#the one moment he got to fully understand him was just a moment before his death and he can't mentally cope with that

[total-killer-brainrot]

cw: noncon, breeding and kidnapping below the cut

When Price retired everyone knew what to expect. He would find a rustic cabin somewhere in the woods, settle down with a pretty bird and maybe pop out a few babies while he still had it in him.

The cabin was the easy part. John was quick to make the secluded lodge home. Deep in the woods, but still a reasonable drive to the nearest small town for any supplies he couldn't get himself. Something about chopping a log for his fire made him feel more masculine than any shot he had ever fired. It was peaceful.

But rather lonely.

John was just too old now for 'dating'. He didn't understand the apps. And any of the eligible ladies in the nearby town were pushing eighty.

Then you showed up. John spotted you on a monthly shopping run. You had just moved into town. A bit frazzled, out of place, but still the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. He managed to chat you up by the till. And every time you would giggle so sweetly at his lame jokes he could feel his cock twitch in his pants.

He just had to have you.

Despite having been a few years out of the military, his skills hadn't faded. And it was nice to have a mission once again. It was only a matter of days before he knew where you lived, your daily routine. Even that you barely knew anyone in town, no one would notice. Everything he needed to snatch you out of the monotony.

It was almost too easy to break into your little flat. He picked through your belongings silently. Pocketing anything he thought you might want in your new home with him. A nice photo of you and some friends on holiday. A well used mug on the shelf. A book you had left lying open on the couch.

You didn't even wake up. Eyes only fluttering briefly as he placed the chloroformed rag over your mouth.

When you finally wake you're groggy. Looking around the unfamiliar room. Your vision so blurry you almost miss the figure sitting near you on the edge of the bed. It takes a moment to focus on him.

"John?" You mumbled, confused. Barely recognising the nice man you met a few days ago. You start to sit up but can't get far, realising your wrists are cuffed to either side of the bed.

John shushes you gently and pecks the top of your head.

"Relax, love. I've got you."

He does take care of you. Feeds you the most wonderful food, helps you bathe, brings you just about anything you could ever need. It would be nice, if you had asked for it.

Part of you pitied this man. He was clearly lonely. But that didn't excuse his actions. At least he never forced himself on you. Though his teasing words and light touches weren't much better. Despite yourself, your body reacted. You spent much of your time embarrasingly wet in your panties. Still he never went further than teasing.

He wanted to though. Boy did he want to. Every time he looked at you he could feel the ache. The need to claim you fully and totally. Maybe put a baby in that belly of yours. But it had to be right. He had a vision.

It had been a few months since John had taken you away from your old life. He knew you still wanted to escape. You were just biding your time until he let his guard down. Silly bird. He had given you everything. The perfect life. All the pretty dresses you could ever want. He loved to dress you up like a doll. Make you a proper wife. But he couldn't have that yet. He needed to make sure you knew you could never leave.

One day he left the keys to the front door unattended. All he had to do was wait. Soon enough you had slipped out. Sprinting into the woods in your lovely heels. He gave you a head start, checking his watch as he pulled up the tracker on his phone. Watching as you stumbled your way through the trees. Silly doll. You couldn't run from him.

When enough time passed he set out after you. Hunting rifle with him. He would never hurt you, never. But he needed you to understand he wasn't playing around. He loved you. Well and truly.

You would love him too.

He fired into the air, just to freak you out. Chuckling as he heard you running ahead of him. You terrified squeal as you dived for cover behind a tree.

He caught up with you easily. Of course he did. He was trained for this sort of thing. It came as naturally to him as breathing.

A firm hand tugged your hair, drawing a cry from your lips as you were pulled to the ground. John's large form gripped you from behind. His breath heavy and hot against your ear.

"Sweetheart..." he growled, and fuck if that didn't make you clench. He sounded amused. "Where do you think you're going..."

He rolled his hips upwards and you gasped. Trying desperately to squirm away from him.

"Can't let my pretty wife go running out in the woods all on her own..." He continued. Shoving you down so your face was pressed into the dirt. Back arched so your ass was pressed against him. He was obviously rock hard. Excited by the hunt.

"Stupid thing..." he mumbled. More to himself than to you as his flipped your skirt up to expose you. "Don't you love me?"

He tugged your panties to the side. Grinding his clothed cock against your bare cunt. The rough fabric of his jeans making you sob.

He was getting greedy. Quick to unbuckle his pants and rub the tip of his cock through your folds. Chuckling roughly at the slick gathered there.

You hated yourself for being so aroused by this. You hated him for turning you on so much. But when his cock notched at your entrance you whimpered. Rocking back against him without thinking. He laughed. Both of you knowing how useless it was for you to fight.

He held you still, hands firm on your hips as he slid in slow. The stretch was almost too much. But he did give you time to adjust at least. Resting inside you. The sound of both of your heavy breaths filling the silent night air.

It was you who caved first. Starting to press back against him. Unable to handle the stillness any longer. You needed him.

The second you moved he was off. Bullying his cock deeper with every thrust. Fucking you into the mud. All you could do was frantically claw at the ground and try your best to keep your mind in one piece.

You were quick to cum. The adrenaline, fear, and his incredible cock too much for your body to handle. Sending you reeling over the edge. Going totally boneless as he fucked you through your orgasm until you were crying and begging him to slow down.

He ignored you. Making sure to hit each thrust as deep as he possibly could. Fully intent on cumming straight into your very womb. He had to make sure it stuck. You couldn't possibly leave him if you had his baby in you.

The thought alone was enough to make him stall. Pressed deep inside you as he came. Leaning over you to hug you close, one hand running over your stomach.

"Can't way till you're swollen with me..."

The gruff, fucked out tone of his voice made you shudder. You didn't want this. But you couldn't deny that the idea had some kind of insane appeal.

He was making you crazy.

"Let's go home, luvie. I'll draw you a bath before we go for round two."

[salparadiselost]

Bruce answered Clark’s text almost immediately.

*You’re aware of the date right?*

Clark’s mind went back to the little ‘Baby-animal-a-day’ calendar on his desk. A white seal had told him that it was October 14th. He knew that it was a day that was in the middle of Bruce’s League vacation, but also that they could contact him through phone or text. He had explicitly said that he should be contacted in case of an emergency.

Getting quotes for one of Lois's pieces wasn’t exactly an emergency, but Clark did have the woman bothering him about it almost every day and it was one of the perks of being best friends with a billionaire.

*Yes*. He texted back. *Are you busy?*

There seemed to be a long pause before he got an answer back from Bruce.

*No. I’m in my bedroom. Come over.*

Clark didn’t hesitate and, after a few moments of making sure he was in his Superman suit so that people didn’t see a mild mannered reporter flying over the Gotham-Metropolis Causeway, he was at Bruce’s bedroom door.

Instantly, he knew why Bruce had asked him about the date.

There was… a smell.

A scent.

Deeply floral and honeyed and so thick that it filled Clark’s brain, triggering something that had never been triggered before. As a Kryptonian, he didn’t have a designation like all of Earth’s humans. He could smell their scents and guess at designations of others, but he truly didn’t understand the emotions beneath them. He had never felt the press of a pack bond, despite how much Ma and Pa tried, or any of the closeness that came from being able to tell people’s emotions by scent.

He had thought that he was completely immune to have scents affect him and yet, here he was feeling something in the wash of Bruce’s heat scent.

*Say your name when you come in,* texted Bruce again. *Maybe that will keep them from biting you.*

He… didn’t really know what that meant, but as he slowly cracked the door open, the snarling was instant.

The kids, he realised after a beat of staring into the dim room and taking in the lump of bodies at the center of an omega nest. Six pairs of eyes were shooting narrow glares at him and filling the room with the sting of something that smelled like battery acid.

Also, underneath the sound, there was a deep, warm hum.

“It’s just me,” Clark said, stepping fully into the room. “I come in peace?”

Growling from two of the kids stopped, though one kept up. He heard one voice snicker about an alien invasion.

“You can come closer,” this was Bruce’s voice speaking from somewhere under the shifting bodies of his pups. It hardly looked like a comfortable position, but Bruce didn’t seem to be struggling. “Tim won’t bite you.”

Clark doubted that, especially as Tim’s snarling seemed to get louder as Clark approached. He knew that all of Bruce’s kids were alphas, except for Damian was too young to be anything more than puppy. Clark hadn’t ever really thought of what all that meant until he watched Bruce try to extract himself from his nest.

“Where are you going?” demanded Tim, still looking at Clark suspiciously.

“Clark wants to manipulate our friendship for journalistic purposes again,” Bruce said, finally standing and stretching his body out with a yawn. “Stay here. I’ll be back.”

“No,” said Tim, more aggressive than Clark had ever heard him be before. “It’s heat season.”

“Clark’s also an alien,” said Dick. The oldest alpha was already relaxing back into the nest, curling towards Jason and closing his eyes. “Designations and scents don’t work on him, ‘member?”

Normally, he would have agreed, but that felt like a huge, huge lie as something about Bruce’s honeyed heat scent seemed to tickle his brain and scratch at something he didn’t think was even there.

Which of course made him feel terrible for lying. Even though, he technically wasn’t. Maybe more like, taking advantage of their pre-conceived notions?

Tim retreated back, allowing Bruce to walk Clark outside and away from the nest. When they were out of the room, away from all the scent-soaked furniture and the stew of smells, Clark’s head felt a bit clearer. Less like he was getting high from a smell alone. Although there was still some weird humming that Clark didn’t know whether his mind was making up just out of pure reaction to whatever Bruce’s scent was doing to him.

(Part of him wondered, what it would feel like to press his nose into the crook of Bruce’s neck. To press his teeth to the warm skin there and bite down hard enough to leave a mark.)

“Sorry about them,” said Bruce with a small, close-lipped smile. “They always get more protective during a heat week.”

The Wayne kids were pretty famous for it actually, ever since a nine-year-old Dick had bitten a socialite’s hand that had wandered too close to Bruce’s waist and the rest of the kids kept a tradition of snapping at anyone that showed too much interest in their omega father.

“It’s fine,” Clark said through his internal panic at trying to figure out what the hell he was feeling, why there was still some kind of weird buzz, and, oh god, was he being manipulative right now? “I’m sorry. I forgot it was a heat week.”

“No, it’s okay,” replied Bruce quickly. “It’s kind of nice actually. Everyone treats me so weirdly during these days. It’s nice to be a normal person for a few minutes and not have someone freaking out over my scent.”

Clark felt like the biggest asshole in the world as he stood there, trying not to treat Bruce weirdly and freak out over his scent.

“Did you bring the quotes?”

Clark had nearly forgotten in his quest to try not to treat Bruce weirdly and freak out over his scent. He scrambled a little before he passed over his phone with the document pulled up. Bruce began reading over them and Clark stared at the small gland on his neck that almost seemed to tease him with how out in the open it was.

Also that weird humming was still there.

Finally, he had to ask. “I, umm, do you hear that noise?”

It was frankly a ridiculous question to be asked by someone with superhearing, but Clark was not exactly thinking the clearest at the moment.

Bruce lifted his head to listen, head tilted a bit before he chuckled. “Oh that’s me. I basically purr through my entire heat week. My kids make fun of me and say that I’m louder than the Batmobile motor. I forgot that you probably hadn’t heard it before.”

Clark knew that he was destined for hell because of all the things that sound had made him want to do to the omega in that moment.

[balaclavabrat]

cat nap

2k words — part of the simon riley x hybrid!reader series -> kitty!reader ( currently reading 🐾 ), puppy!reader, bunny reader.

cw: 18+ CONTENT, MDNI — use of ‘pet’ / ‘kitty’ / kittycunt, daddy kink / strong ddlg themes, scent kink, spit, breeding kink, messy sex overall, brief mention of past trauma.

Simon would be lying if he said he was surprised to see you curled up in your expansive, shared bed. He scoffs over your slumbering form, eyes trailing down to your soft tummy and cute undies that have been exposed due to your tossing and turning. Curling and uncurling yourself into the sheets that smell just like him— he’ll never understand that this bed is your own personal heaven, and that wearing one of his shirts while you take your naps makes it even more divine. No matter how hard he tries.

“Sleepy kitty,” Simon mutters softly, words coming out as affectionately as they possibly can. He brings a heavy hand to rub the top of your head, right between your fluffy ears, and he revels in the startled but satisfied purr that vibrates your frame.

It seems the gentle touch has triggered something in you as you roll over, throwing your arms over your head and twisting your face up. Your body tenses for a moment. Simon’s voice finally falls on your ears now that you’re just barely coherent; “Big stretch— tha’s my good, little pet!”

Each syllable is elongated and sugar coated, making a warm feeling bloom in your chest before Simon even dives into the sheets with you. You sniff a few times. Fresh and clean body wash, even some aftershave— he’s showered. At the realization, your nose scrunches. You enjoy his natural scent. The woody musk, a hint of smoke and sometimes whiskey if he needs a stiff drink after work. It’s spicy and comforting. You missed out on getting whiff when he first got home. You snooze, you lose, you pout… already scowling and you haven’t even opened your eyes fully.

“Don’t make that face,” the words are grumbled; he knows what your issue is. Still, he’s caging you in whilst he speaks. Tattooed arms locking around your waist in a tight hold while his stubble scrubs against your cheek. You look up at him in the middle of a yawn, melting into him as you wrap your arms around his neck. Not before you rub your eyes, though.

“Missed you, daddy,” you whisper, slurred speech and all, forgetting why you were upset a solid minute ago.

“Wasn’t gone for that long, was I?”

He’s teasing as always. Honeyed, brown irises taking in your sweet features as a smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth. You murmur something unintelligible and equally bratty in response, clinging to him even tighter. You could fall asleep again if you really wanted to… if it wasn’t for that pesky feeling that settles in your tummy. The tingling that makes it’s way between your thighs and causes them to flex around Simon’s waist. You mewl softly— sleepily— as Simon rolls over with you in tow. You’re laying on his chest before you know it, face buried in his neck and taking in a deep breath whilst you nose at the skin there in true feline nature. Bumping your forehead into his jawbone in the process.

Simon is rather predictable. The way he drags his hands down your sides is expected; squeezing your waist, rubbing your hips, and then grabbing the swell of your ass. With a minuscule amount of effort, he spreads your plush cheeks. Those calloused fingers slip between the seam in seconds to rub your kittycunt through your panties, eager to ruin the soft cotton. Your reward for being so good and patient while he was gone. Even if you weren’t conscious.

“Daddy.” It’s breathy and pathetic.

“Hm?” Simon hums, as if he isn’t doing anything nefarious.

You haven’t lived with him for long. You moved from shelter to shelter, stayed with people that certainly weren’t cut out to take care of a hybrid in between. Which ultimately lead to Simon finding you in a safe house, tucked away by some sketchy crime boss who liked to throw away his toys once he got bored of them.

You’re not sure what ever happened to him, but you’ve got a few scars to show for that time in your life— Simon doesn’t want to falter your healing process and taint your innocence any further by telling you he painted the wall with the poor bastard's brains once the task force finally caught up to his organization. Not like you would understand, anyway. Too far gone and caught up in being a pampered, little kitten now. With bows on your ears and one to match on your tail, a pretty collar with a bell to wear when you feel up to it. You have everything you’ve ever wanted and more.

Spoiled rotten. Simon thinks to himself, watching your lashes fan over the tops of your supple cheeks. The tips of his fingers, index and middle, find your clit through your underwear, pressing hard enough and moving in little circles to draw a syrupy mewl from you. He feels that little patch of mess growing and growing until the material is practically glued to your cunt, transparent and sticky when he bunches it up and tugs upwards, forcing the cotton to strain against your folds and make you whimper. You’re left writhing on his chest in seconds. Moaning and panting “daddy,” like you’ll die if he doesn’t give in and yank the lacy trim to the side.

Which he does. Doesn’t hesitate to stuff you full either, after all that teasing. Slips his thick middle finger right in and feels your thighs lock up on him, feels your velvet lined walls suck him right in. He’s got you trained to take all of him at this point. You pick your head up, tail swishing behind you wildly.

“Feelin’ good, kitty?”

“So good, daddy,” you whisper back, just over his lips before you two join for a sloppy kiss. Tongues rubbing together in a near disgusting dance. You taste the nicotine on him; you feel his stubble rub against your face. A combination that makes it impossible for your pussy not to squeeze around the digit that’s pressing up on the gooey spot inside of you— you’re trying to force him out before he can get another one in, but Simon’s certainly not a beginner. He knows how to coax your pretty cunt into letting him in.

Your mouth falls open, singing and choking out sounds, and he grins against your scalding cheek. Pressing kisses there when he finds the time. His freehand grips your tail, and that might be the nail in the coffin for you. His fingers fill you up to his knuckles, pressing and flexing until you both can hear how messy you are between your thighs, spreading the glossy arousal all over the plump cheeks of your ass. He tugs at the squirming mess of fluff in his fist—your tail— and your cunt squeezes itself around his fingers so tight he can’t move them anymore. Record timing.

Simon kisses you, again and again. Slow and sensual to fast and rough. Anything you need to ride out the aftershocks of your release, with your poor cunt still flexing and refusing to let go of his digits until he reluctantly has to pull them out. Bringing the messy hand up to his mouth. You watch him lick his fingers clean. His fat tongue peaks out, slipping ‘n sliding through his digits while you stare at him with dazed, half lidded eyes. Before it’s your turn and he decides to share your sweetness. He presses down on your tongue, forcing your mouth to open as wide as it can. Drool slips past your lips and tongue, and he has the revelation that he’s turned you into a proper sex kitten. His fingers fall out of your mouth with a soft and wet pop.

“Relax, kitty.” He grumbles once you begin making hasty movements. It’s more of a demand than anything else. His attempts to coax you are lazy but earnest, petting the back of your head with one hand while the other caresses your lower back. Right above your now drooping tail.

“Wan’ more,” you huff out, planting your hands flat on Simon’s chest as you gather enough strength to sit up. Your poor cunt is still sore from his rough digits, creamy and messy with your release. Painfully empty. You need him.

It’s apparent in every little move you make. Each rut of your hips over his hard cock. You whine, looking down and seeing the mess you’re making on your daddy’s joggers. Simon’s no better. Deep groans rumbling in his giant chest. The gray material grows darker and albeit stickier with your arousal. Simon doesn’t have the heart to deny you— not when you’re gagging for it like this.

He can see your pretty, starry eyes welling with hot tears, making your lashes heavy. Your cheeks are puffy with sleep but plump with pleasure, lips pouty and slick with a mix of your saliva and his. Before he knows it, while he’s under whatever trance you’ve managed to cast over him, he’s helping you get his fat cock out of his sweats. His hands dwarf your own, scarred lips shushing your small sounds in the process with a curse or two.

“Greedy fuckin’ thing.”

It’s his fault for spoiling you so much, but that’s a conversation for later.

His dick immediately smacks against his lower abdomen. Thick and heavy. Beads of his precum create such a mess on his hoodie and you nearly giggle at the sight. The feeling of him grabbing your hips stops you, though. He drags you over his cock, and you have no choice but to squeal when his shaft rubs right up on your sensitive clit, before the fat head catches your drooly entrance. You suck a breath in through your teeth. The last thing you do before Simon plants his feet on the bed and stuffs you full of every inch in one go, growling loud ‘n proud and gripping your skin hard enough to make you sniffle.

Somehow, in the middle of everything, the hem of the shirt you’re wearing becomes tucked between your teeth. And his hoodie becomes balled up in your fists. Simon can’t recall ever seeing you like this. All riled up with your ears flat on your head and small, feisty growls escaping you. The wind is knocked out of him each time you bounce, pulling yourself upwards and then falling right back down on his thick cock.

He doesn’t have it in him to stop you, once again. When you’re milking him like this it’s hard for him to focus on anything besides how much he loves you and your precious cunt. His hand wavers over your tummy, rubbing your smooth skin as he tries to string words together through ragged breaths. Your cunt is unrelenting. Pulsing and squeezing and all around ruining him. Fuckin’ hell— you’re testing his stamina riding him like this.

“Trying to fuck the cum out of me like this, kitten,” he’s throwing his head back, desperately trying to meet your hips to the best of his fucked out abilities, “is tha’ what you want?”

Your response is hummed, meeting his eyes with a glossed over look. Your own drool is soaking the fabric through. Maybe you really are just a dumb kitty, Simon thinks— “Words, pet.” He reminds you with the last bit of composure he has himself, “want daddy to give you some kitties, is that it?”

“Yes!” You squeak out, “Please, daddy! Breed me.”

Simon blacks out after that. It’s a mess of desperate thrusts and you falling forward, flopping onto his chest yet again due to how hard your orgasm rocks into you. He’s gripping your thighs— holding you nice and open, allowing him to fuck up into you and knock your cute squeals right out of your throat. You’re creaming everywhere, covering his cock in a milky white that makes him groan when he feels how much messier your cunt has gotten. The sloppy sounds echo through the room until he stills. Sinking his cock into you as far as it can go, fat head surpassing that spot that draws out your messiest releases and pressing up against your cervix.

His cum is hot and thick. Both of you shudder, feeling it fill you up to the brim and leak out of your poor, fluttering kittycunt while Simon holds onto you for dear life. He huffs and puffs between your ears, unbothered by the way the fluff tickles his nose. There’s a soft noise coming from you. Airy sighs and— no, it can’t be— little snores. Your face is smushed up on Simon’s shoulder. Surely drooling all over his hoodie. Your ears twitch under his nose; the way they tend to when you’re knocked out.

“Un-fuckin’-believable.”

©BALACLAVABRAT

[unifybullseye]

Nights after the engine room

[heartofonychinus]

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕

pairing: husband!sylus x reader genre: funny, dramatic, over-the-top fluff with a sprinkle of angst. a/n: not gonna lie, I was lowkey giggling the whole time writing this because let’s be real, Kieran and Luke are the ultimate chaos gremlins, and now Sylus has officially joined their shenanigans to break his wife’s silent treatment.

It had been a small argument. Not about forgotten laundry, stolen desserts or Mephisto snitching.  This time, it was personal. Sylus had gone on a dangerous mission without you. You. A fully qualified Hunter, with more field time than most rookies could dream of. And yet he’d left without a word, not even a note at best. Like you were just... fragile.

So when he returned, bruised and limping but otherwise alive, you didn’t yell, you didn’t curse,  you just… shut down. No “I love you.”, no “welcome home,” and not even a morning kiss. 

To Sylus? This was his first-ever heartbreak; he simply did not understand how to fix it. 

Just like that, two days pass by with Sylus going desperate and impatient by the hour…

“I haven’t heard her voice in forty-nine hours.”

Kieran looked up from his book. “Didn’t you say you could withstand psychic torture for days?”

“That was before I got married.”, Sylus lets out a long, dramatic sigh as he slumps onto the couch, head tilted back like the world has ended. 

“You want us to help?” Luke asks, peeking over the armrest with sudden amusement.

“She won’t even look at me,” Sylus groans, like he’s been fatally wounded.

“Maybe if you lie on the floor like you’re dying, she’ll at least step over you,” Kieran says flatly. 

Sylus peeks up from the couch, eyes gleaming with sudden intrigue, and just like that, the plotting begins…

A day later, when a business operation goes a little too far into chaos, with too many explosions, Sylus sees an opportunity in the blood on his sleeve. Normally, he’d heal himself before coming home. But today? Today… he walks in wounded, shirt ripped, limping just slightly, like a war-torn, tragic movie protagonist.

He makes eye contact with Kieran and Luke at the door and whispers, “Help me make it look worse.” 

“Say less, Boss-man, we’ve waited our whole life for this.”, Luke and Kieran chime in as they proceed to the theatrical show about to begin…

You’re in the kitchen, studiously ignoring your husband’s existence and then…

SLAM… the door creaks, a loud grunt, something crashes.

Kieran: “BOSS-MAN, STAY WITH US!!” Luke: “NOT LIKE THIS. OH GOD, HE’S LOSING BLOOD.”

You stand frozen for half a second before your instincts kick in, and you bolt out of the kitchen, heart already racing. You sprint into the living room, only to find Sylus half-draped across the couch, shirt in tatters, one hand reaching toward the ceiling like he’s auditioning for a tragic stage play. Kieran’s fanning him. Luke’s pressing a cold compress on his forehead, that’s mostly for vibes.

You drop to your knees, “What happened?! Why didn’t you heal?! Why are you BLEEDING—”

“Because you weren’t talking to me. I didn’t have the will to live.”

“ARE YOU INSANE?!”, you smack his arm. 

“There it is. Her voice. Heaven.”, he sighs in a moment of relief. 

“You manipulative, dramatic, infuriating man”, you snap, eyes blazing as you press the ice pack a little harder against his bruised shoulder.

“Your dramatic, manipulative man.”Sylus murmurs with a tired but smug little grin, eyes softening as he watches you fuss over him.

Before you can bite back, he tugs you gently by the wrist, pulling you in just enough to press a small, careful kiss to your lips, quick, uncertain. You don’t kiss him back at first, but you don’t pull away either. And after a beat, you sigh, quiet, resigned and lean in to return it, just once. Not too soft, not too long, but enough to say what neither of you wants to admit out loud, you missed him too.

Later that night, Sylus is curled in your lap while you bandage him up properly. Kieran walks past and mutters, “He faked a faint, you know.” You pause. Sylus looks up like a guilty cat.

“You FAINTED ON PURPOSE?!”

“…Yes. But you’re talking to me again, so who’s the real winner here?”

You sigh softly, a small smile tugging at your lips because, honestly, you just gave in to him once again.

[maskedbyghost]

arranged marriage with simon. yes i am talking about this again.

simon doesn’t talk much about the marriage at first, but his actions say it all. he insists on carrying your bags, walking on the outside of the sidewalk, and making sure you eat enough during missions. you don't ask him why, but it's clear he's claiming the role of protector, even if this was supposed to be temporary.

he won’t admit it, but simon begins to get used to the little domestic routines. you cooking dinner, him taking care of repairs around the house. it feels too natural, and although he never says anything, he’s already mentally putting the two of you into that “forever” category.

the first time you mention needing space or wanting to stay in a separate room, simon just gives you a look. "what do you mean, separate? we’re married." he’s not joking either. to him, this isn’t a temporary arrangement anymore. if you try to argue, he’ll just pull you close and mutter in your ear, "ring’s on your finger. means you’re mine." and that’s the end of the conversation.

he starts doing small things for you that a husband would—restocking your favorite snacks, making sure your gun is cleaned before missions, and slipping extra blankets on your side of the bed when it’s cold.

after some time, he’s not shy about touching you anymore—brushing a hand against your arm, holding you a little too close when you’re out in public. the more time passes, the more his touches become possessive, like he’s reminding you who you belong to now.

simon is up early, always. you’ll wake up to the smell of coffee, and he’ll have a cup ready for you without asking. if you take your time getting out of bed, he’ll mutter, "c’mon, mrs. riley. don’t make me drag you out." but there’s always a smile on his face.

when you share a bed, simon always pulls you into him at night. no matter how much space you take up at first, by morning, you’re wrapped up in his arms. if you stir in your sleep or seem restless, he’ll murmur, "got you, lovie," without fully waking up, his grip tightening as if to remind you he’s there, keeping you safe.

simon doesn’t open up easily, but after a particularly intense moment, he’ll lean in close, his forehead resting against yours, and he’ll whisper, "don’t care if it was for a mission or not. you’re the only one for me now." it’s not a grand declaration, but the sincerity in his voice makes your heart race.

simon will leave subtle marks of possession on you—his dog tags hanging around your neck, his scent clinging to your clothes, and his bite marks on your skin after an especially heated night. "need everyone to know who you belong to," he’ll growl against your skin, his lips trailing kisses down your neck.

he also has an odd obsession with your wedding ring. he’ll turn it on your finger, kissing it softly whenever you’re close. if you ever take it off for some reason, his brow furrows, and he’ll slip it back on. "keep it on, yeah?" his voice is low, almost pleading. "means something to me."

after a particularly dangerous mission where you were almost hurt, simon corners you in the hallway, eyes filled with emotion. "you’re not leaving me," he growls, pinning you against the wall. "ever. understand?" it’s a statement, a vow, and in that moment, you know you’re his forever, and he’s yours.

when you’re lying in bed together, his arms wrapped around you, simon will sometimes whisper, "mine," into your hair. it’s soft, almost inaudible, but you feel it in your bones. he needs the reminder just as much as you do—that you’re his, and he’s never letting you go.

[yoyomomiko]

I love your writing so much aaaa (⁠ﾉﾟ⁠0ﾟ⁠)⁠ﾉ

I need the monster trio's reaction to reader calling them "husband", could be an accident or intentional I just need it pls!!!! ( T﹏T )

pairings: monster trio x female reader

cw: reader is referred to as "wife", mention of suffocating/drowning in sanji's part, not proofread, probably contains grammar mistakes, english isn't my first language!!

wc: 1.3k+

— (a/n): tysm!! <33 i like writing for one piece characters so I love it when I get more requests for them >.< also, so sorry if this feels boring or short!! :(( -> m.list

— LUFFY

Luffy loves it when you introduce him to new people, but he's usually too distracted to pay attention. Until you call him your husband.

The moment the word leaves your mouth, his face lights up.

He repeats it INSTANTLY, grinning ear to ear. "Husband? That's me, right? You mean me?"

If you try to play it off and say it was a mistake, he ignores your protests and laughs. If he likes it, he likes it. And you're gonna keep calling him that, no matter what!!

He immediately starts calling you "wife" in return, but in the most casual way, like it's completely normal.

He doesn't fully understand what marriage means in a traditional sense, but to him, being your husband means you're his person.

If the crew hears about it, they all would have different reactions. Zoro snorts, Nami fights the urge to roll her eyes, and Sanji almost faints in disbelief.

Luffy, however, is completely unbothered.

If you tell him later that you only said it as a slip up, he just smiles and says "But you could mean it, right?"

He doesn't let it go. He starts using it as an excuse to do things for you. "Husbands have to share their food."

*Cue him stealing from your plate instead*

He loves how you blush when he casually refers to himself as your husband mid conversation.

If you ever genuinely called him that again, he'd get the biggest grin ever and he won't stop talking about it for hours.

He doesn't care about official ceremonies or rings. If you called him your husband once, that's enough for him.

——— ☆

You were introducing the crew to a kind old shopkeeper on an island, someone who had been chatting with you warmly for the past few minutes.

"Oh, and this is my husband, Luffy." You added casually, not even realizing it until the words were already out. You meant captain, not husband. At least that's what you wanted to believe.

Luffy blinked, tilting his head to the side, before a wide grin formed on his lips. "Yeah, that's me, I'm her husband!"

Wait, what? You froze, stiffened, locked in place. Did he seriously just agree?

The shopkeeper chuckled, a warm smile glued to their lips. "Well, aren't you two adorable? How long have you been married for?"

You opened your mouth to correct them, but Luffy beat you to it. "Long enough!" He answered confidently, throwing an arm around your shoulder.

You looked at him, eyes wide, stunned. He just grinned at you, completely unbothered. You sighed, deciding to let it go. For now.

— ZORO

Zoro is not the type to get flustered easily, but calling him your husband? Yeah, that'll do it.

He'd be calm on the outside, but on the inside, he's replaying that moment over and over again.

If you called him that in front of strangers, like introducing him as your husband to avoid weirdos, he'd immediately go along with it.

He doesn't see the need to correct you. If you called him that, then fine. That's what he is now.

If someone asked when you got married, he'll just say "None of your business." and move on.

He secretly enjoys watching you get flustered after realizing what you said, trying to cover it up and say it was just a small mistake.

"Didn't know you were that eager to make it official."

If Sanji overheard, it would be war. "YOU?! HOW DARE YOU–" "Shut up, cook. She said it herself."

He says "cook" as if it's a slur.

If you apologized later for the slip up, he would just simply shrug, saying that it's just some words, but the slight redness on his ears would say otherwise.

He wouldn't bring it up much, but if someone else called him your boyfriend or anything else, he'd correct them. "Husband." No explanation.

Zoro starts to lowkey like the title, but he would NEVER admit it.

He doesn't joke about things like this. If you seriously wanted to be with him in that way, he'd take it 100% seriously.

If you actually bring up the idea of marriage later, he's going to instantly agree.

He starts calling you "wife" just to mess with you!!

——— ☆

You were traveling through a town when an unfamiliar man started hitting on you. He was persistent, and you were quickly running out of patience.

Then, without thinking, you gestured toward Zoro. "Sorry, I'm here with my husband." You sighed as the man's gaze followed the direction you were pointing at.

You immediately regretted it. Zoro turned his head slightly, raising an eyebrow. The man scowled but backed off, muttering an apology before walking away.

You exhaled in relief, until you felt Zoro's gaze on you.

"Husband, huh?" He muttered, amused.

Your face burned, heart beat quickening. "I just said that to get rid of him."

The corners of Zoro's lips tugged upwards, forming a smirk. "Didn't mind it." He kept walking like nothing happened, leaving you flustered.

— SANJI

Sanji freezes completely the second you call him your husband.

For a split second, he actually imagined it. Being your husband. Starting a family. Then his brain shut down.

If you were introducing him to someone that way, he'd try to act normal, but would fail miserably. "Y-Yes, that's right, I'm her– her– her husband, yes–"

His heart would be racing.

If you called him that to avoid someone flirting with you, he'd immediately play along, but also fall deeply in love with you all over again.

If you told him later it was just a slip up, a small and meaningless mistake, he would dramatically explain the feelings he had in that very second. "For a moment, I lived in paradise."

He would start calling you "my wife" at every opportunity. "Oh, my darling wife, allow me to–" "Sanji, stop."

If someone else flirted with you after that, he's quick to place himself in the middle of you and the other person. "I'm her husband, thanks."

I swear bro this man is SO sassy.

Sanji would start daydreaming about an actual wedding. He also gets more protective than usual, standing a little closer, guiding you with a hand on your back.

If you genuinely meant it, he'd be the happiest man alive.

He swears to be the best husband in the world, treat you amazingly, kiss the ground you walk on.

Sanji will never, ever forget the moment you called him that. The moment you called him your husband. Those words remain imprinted in his mind, locked in a special place.

——— ☆

You were in a crowded restaurant, and the waiter was getting a little bit too flirty for your liking. So, without thinking, you immediately decided to shut him down, but not directly. "My husband will have the same order as me."

Sanji knocked over his glass of water, almost choking as he coughed severely. You turned to see him frozen, eyes wide, face completely red. You groaned, pinching your nose bridge. Here we go...

"Say it again, love." Sanji literally sparkled, practically glowing. His eyes held a childish shine, which you couldn't help but describe as adorable.

You sighed. "It was just–"

"Say it again."

You buried your face in your hands, already feeling your heart beat increasing. Gosh, why did he have to be so handsome?

"Sanji, stop." You mumbled, resting your chin in your palm, elbow propped up on the table.

"My darling wife, please–"

"Sanji I swear that if you don't stop this, I will hold you down underwater and watch you suffocate."

"I wouldn't mind that one bit. Dying by your hands is an honor, sweetheart." He winked, smiling as he leaned in closer, giving you a soft kiss on the lips.

He drove you insane. But in the best way possible.

★yoyomiko ★miko

[jaxon-exe]

I’ve seen that future…

If you had told Danny that joining the justice league would mean getting up at the ass crack of dawn to go to some stupid meeting, he never would have joined. Well that not fully true but he might have agreed to have a Zata tube installed in Amity. Even with how much he hates those things it still seems like a better idea now that he is flying through space trying to catch up with this stupid satellite. He was already late thanks to Skulker, which means he missed his perfectly times window to catch the watchtower in orbit so now he’s here playing catch up.

He didn’t even bother to slow down from his Mach 20 pace when he reached it. Just turned intangible and shot through the window into the meeting room. He was expecting to get scolded for being late. Or for his dramatic entrance but he was not expecting the other members to not notice him at all on account of them arguing.

Taking the golden opportunity to get out of a scolding, (he did not want to be the victim of another bat glare) he kept he’s mouth shut and floated down to Hal. Who seemed to be sulking off to the side of the fight. “Dude, what’s gonna on?”

“Batman,” the name was spat like a curse. “Had plans on how to take us all out.” Hal waved to the screen before him, inviting Danny to look.

“Really?” He floated to the screen, seeing files with each leaguer’s name. After a moment of hesitation, he clicked on his own.

“Yeah! Can you fucking believe this?” Hal growled out. “He planned on how to kill us all and is now acting like we’re the unreasonable ones.” Danny would normally be shaken by Hal’s anger. The guy so rarely got truly anger that it startled Danny every time. In that moment however he couldn’t bring his attention way from the screen. It was a decent plan. Risky, unlikely to work but decent. The fact Batman did this at all though. “You think you know a guy, right? Phantom?” Hal asked when he saw the ghost wasn’t responding to him.

Before he could continue his questioning Phantom shot off across the room. All leaguers that could keep up with the ghost speed braces from a fight when they saw him heading straight for Batman. They were anger with him yeah but they didn’t want him dead. They all knew Phantom was physically capable of doing that and had only seen him fly this fast in battle.

Their concern turned to confusion however when Danny stopped dead still just before the dark knight. Looking the man over before reaching to the side, Danny’s hand disappearing into a green vortex that appeared out of thin air. When he pulled back, a small metal box, no bigger than a watch box, laid in his hand as he presented it to Batman.

“This is a blood blossom.” The soft words cut through the tense silence. “It is one of, no it is the only thing that can kill me. For good.” Batman looked at the box, then at the boy. Determination sat on his brows despite the tired sadness that coloured his eyes. “If I…” His eyes broke away from the white lenses. “If I go bad. Please. I understand you don’t want to kill. So please, give this to someone who will kill me.”

No one moved for a moment as they processed the request. Emotions shifting wildly in them all. Superman’s landing on anger. “Why would you give him that?!” He stepped forward. “He already plans to kill us all why would you give him that?!”

“Because I’ve seen that future.” The conference was stated plainly. Melancholy waiting down on the boy as he turn to the others. “The realms are different than here.” His trembled. “Time works differently. You can walk into tomorrow and run into yesterday. Every possibly future exists within the realms.”

He scanned each heroes face as his voice harden. “I’ve seen what happens. I know what happens if I turn.” Danny took a deep breath as he met superman’s eyes. Gazing at him with eyes that saw more than what was in front of him. “I killed you first Clark.” It was stated as fact. Non of them could bring themselves to doubt him. “Then Diana. Then Hal. One by one each one of you were killed… by me.”

His breath came out frosted, his emotions making it hard to keep from freezing the watchtower as he turned back to Batman. “You survived the longest. Out of everyone here you got the closest to stopping me. In that reality however, you didn’t know about ghost. Didn’t know how to fight me.” He held out the box again. “Please, I can’t let that future happen.”

Everyone was stunned. Watching in silent shock as the horror of what Phantom said sunk in. Batman recovers quickest, slowly reaching out to grab that box which he now identified as being made of lead.

“Thank you Phantom.” There was more to those words than what it may appear. A silent reassess that the ghost picked up on.

[classyrbf]

SHE'S A SUCCUBUS! — CHOSO KAMO

SYNOPSIS...as a sex demon, she can always sense the horny virgin boy who’s dying to lose his virginity

INFO...choso x succubus!reader, sub!choso, virgin!choso, somnophilia, riding, overstim, creampie, oral (m!receiving and f!receiving), slight ass eating, cum eating, doggy, squirting, choso is super needy and eager, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

Choso always felt left out when his friend would constantly talk about all the girls they’ve been with, all the experiences they had and what crazy shit they always got into. He’d just sit there, silent. He couldn’t relate to them not one bit. The closest he’s ever to having sex is his right hand or a sex toy. No girl ever looked his way, and his confidence was crushed. They’d only go after his friends, practically drooling over them. Not one of them spared a glance towards Choso.

He was begging to lose his virginity, dying to know what real pussy felt like, how soft tits felt in his hands or even some ass. God, don’t even get him started on wondering what it feels like to receive head. His friends swear it’s the best thing ever as long as the girl knows what she’s doing. He always watches porn, the women on their knees, slobbering all over the man dick like it was some divine dessert. He loved watching the way their pussies wrapped around the mans dick, just imagining how wet and warm it is. He was a lost cause. At this point, he was ready to pay someone to take his virginity. Literally.

And just like any other night, he goes back home, ready to fuck his fist to another average porn video before dozing off to sleep. He’s been extremely horny lately, more than usual and he can’t understand why. Not to mention the wet dreams he’s been having, waking up to cum in his pants like he’s a damn teenager. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him, feeling the need to cum more and more everyday.

Hours later, he’s fast asleep, tossing and turning as he has another wet dream of someone riding him. He can’t make out her face, but it feels so damn real. Everything does. Even her moans and the weight on top of him. “Mmm,” he hums. His brows furrow. He can even hear the sound of skin on skin. His entire body feels like it’s on fire right now, like he’s been hit with some sort of sex pollen. It’s more intense than ever.

Little does he know it’s not a wet dream, no, it’s you. The succubus who’s been watching him for weeks, feeling his urgency to cum, to lose his virginity. He’s summoned you without even realizing. And now you were riding him, gliding your wet pussy up and down his aching cock while he slept, waiting for the moment he wakes up and realizes he’s no longer a virgin. He twists and turns when you run your clawed nails down his pale skin, smiling at the way he moans and whimpers in his sleep.

Choso couldn’t take this overwhelming feeling anymore, forcing himself to wake up, prying his tired eyes open. But the feeling doesn’t stop. The sounds don’t stop. And certainly the woman is his dreams doesnt disappear when he opens his eyes. “Wha—ah—what? Who…? Oh fuck!” He rasps, eyes darting around the room and over your naked body. “What the fuck? Oh my goddd.” As confused and scared as he is right now, he can’t escape the pleasure coursing through him right now.

“Shhh, shhh, just let me make you feel good. You’ve been dying for this haven’t you? I’m here to give you exactly what you want.” You slightly lean back, spreading your legs to let him get a clear view of the way your pussy sucks his cock in.

He looks at you with awe and confusion, but he can’t help but give in, moaning so sweetly when you fully sink down. “Who…who are you?” He gasps, eyes widen when you clench your pussy around him.

“I know when cute virgins like you wanna lose their virginity. You summoned me, accidentally. You’ve been so worked up lately, huh? Well,” you smile, “that was because of me.” His cock twitches inside of you, your hips bouncing faster and harder, watching the way he mouth falls open.

“Fuck, fuck! It’s feels so good,” he heaves, breathing heavily. His cheeks dusted a light pink. “I don’t wanna cum just yet, please slow down. Please, please—nnghhh, fuckkkk.” Choso didn’t stand a chance, shooting sticky ropes of cum into your pussy, his entire body quivering with how intense his orgasm was. “Please, slow down—ah, oh my god. It feels too good—” His eyes rolled into the back of his head as you kept fucking him.

“I’ll keep fucking you till there’s nothing left.” You lean forward, pressing your chest against his, placing your lips on his while you kiss him with such fervor, with such sloppiness. His hands reach down, gripping the plush flesh of your ass. He swears he’s in heaven right now. This can’t be real. No way a sex demon was taking his virginity right now. His dick was so sensitive, but still so hard. He knew he had so much cum left, the only thoughts he had were to fill you up over and over until it was dripping out.

He felt like he was losing his mind, fucking him so hard, creating a sloppy mess where you two met just so you can get him to cum again. Your devilish yet sweet giggles send chills up his spine and straight down to his already throbbing dick. With labored breaths, and his heart rattling against his rib cage, he already knows he’s going to cum again. So soon. “Come don’t hold back on me. I want it all,” you growl in his ear. “I’ll do whatever it takes to empty you dry and fuck you stupid.”

His trembling fingers grip onto your ass harder as he cries out, broken moans swallowed by your kisses and he can’t help but cum again, filling up your tight pussy to the brim. You pull away from the heated kiss looking at the way his hazy eyes stare up at you with such desperation. You halt the movement of your hips and get up from his lap. “No, no, wait. Where are you going?! Please, keep fucking me.” He sits up, watching you get on your knees. Poor thing looks like he’s almost about to cry.

And now he can get a real good view of you. The tail that swayed around and the small little horns that pointed from the top of your head. You really were a sex demon. Your hand took a firm grip on his throbbing cock, his tip leaking like it was begging you to make it cum again. “I can see your thoughts. Your nasty little thoughts.” You run a long stripe from his balls all the way to his tip, licking the excess cum off. Your tongue was freakishly long, but god did it feel so good on him. You spit on his cock, massaging it in as you stroke him, moving your hand in circular motions that make his hips jump. “Say it. I know what you’re thinking.” Your lips curl into a smirk, running the pad of your thumb over his slit.

“Put…put your mouth on it, please,” he says barely above a whisper, too shocked to even form proper words.

“Louder.” You massage his balls with your free hand, earning a guttural groan from him.

“Please, put your mouth on it! Fuck, I wanna know how good it feels!” His lip quivers, his breathing quickening the closer your lips get.

“Good boy.” You smile, darting your tongue out and wrapping it around the base of his cock, swirling it around the head before you take him in your mouth. You stare at him through thick lashes, bobbing your head up and down his thick shaft, spit spilling from the corners of your mouth. Glug, glug, glug.

The sound of you choking on his dick was like music to his hears, taking his all the way down your throat with no problem. How is he supposed to keep up? His brain is fried and his body already feels so weak from cumming two times in a row. But he can’t stop. It’s like you’ve put some kind of spell on him to make him want more. “Shit, I’m all the way in,” he gasps, fall back onto the pillows. You pull him out of your throat, string of saliva connect from your lips to his cock as you continue stroking him. You were so messy, so nasty, but he loved it so fucking much because this is always how he’d picture it.

You spit back on his cock before taking him down your throat again without warning. “Oh my—fuck me, I’m gonna fucking cum again!” He whimpers. His body jolts and his abs tense up at the sensation, pleasure shooting through his body like electricity. He’s so sensitive he can’t help it. His hips buck up into your mouth and next thing he knows, he’s cumming down your throat. “Nnngh shit!” He groans, each orgasm more intense than the last. It’s like as time goes on, he can’t help but get more horny, more greedy.

Within seconds he’s pulling you off his dick on bending you over, pulling your ass in the air. “I’m sorry, I can’t stop, I can’t stop, I can’t,” he’s muttering to himself, sweat dripping down his body. He pushes every inch into you with such ease, like your pussy was made for him. “Feels so good, feels so good I can’t stop stop,” he cries, rummaging his hips into you, fucking hard and fast.

“You’re learning so quickly.” You smile from below him, pushing your ass back against his hips. He watches the way your ass bounces back on his dick and he becomes mesmerized. “That’s it! Fuck me harder. Show me how badly you wanna cum in my pussy again,” you giggle.

Choso pushes your head into the mattress, broken moans falling from his lips. “I need it so badly, so fucking badly.” Your pussy grips him like a vice and he hisses at the tempting feeling.

“Make me squirt all over your cock! Come on, fuck me like you mean it!” You grip the sheets below you, feeling his swollen head press against your sweet spot over and over with each grueling thrust. Upon hearing your words, Choso remembers all those videos he’s watching of girls squirting, and to make you squirt just because of him makes his brain fuzzy. He keeps the same pace, huffing and panting when your pussy grows tighter. “Yes! Yes!” You laugh, sighing in relief when he pulls out and clear liquid shoots from your pussy, coating his cock and sheets.

His eyebrows raise in amazement. “Holy fuck,” he watches the way your pussy leaks before urgently ramming his cock back inside of you. “Do it again. Squirt all over me again! Please! It’s so fucking hot!” He begs as he pounds your pussy like his life depends on it. “Wanna watch you—nnngh—squirt again!”

As if on cue, your pushy gushes around him again, soaking his thighs and his cock and just the sight of it makes him cum so hard he’s toppling over you. “Fuck! I’m cumming!” He thrusts deep inside of you, making sure not to waste even a drop. “Yes, yes!” He huffs, bucking his hips. “I need to taste you, need to fucking—mmm.” He drops to his knees, pulling your ass back against his face while his tongue slurps every drop his cum and your juices, licking through your sloppy folds and sucking on your clit.

“Eager little thing, aren’t you? Such a good, good boy.” You praise, reaching behind you, taking a fistful of his hair and pushing his face deeper into your cunt. His moans at your taste, his free hand reaching down to stroke his swollen and sensitive cock. He moves his tongue up and down, running back and forth between your clit and your ass, and back down to your hole. You quickly pull him away before sitting up.

“Did I do something wrong? Why’d you stop?” He looks at with sad eyes.

“You’re done.” You look down at his cock.

“No, no, I’m not. I promise I still have more. Just keep fucking me, let me eat your pussy or something! Don’t leave!” He pouts, watching you crawl towards him.

“As much as I’d like to keep playing with you, you’re all out of cum, pretty boy.” You smirk. “I’ve got other desperate virgins like you to attend to.” You ghost your lips over his and Choso leans in for a kiss but you pull back from him. “You’re welcome.”

You disappear into a dark corner in his room, like you faded away into it. He runs to turn on his light and sees you’re completely gone. He’s at a loss for words, standing in the middle of his room completely naked. He looks towards his bed, seeing the wet spots you had left. So it was real? No? Yes? He didn’t know what to believe. He accidentally summoned a sex demon to take his virginity. If only he could do it again.

[oneofstarkskids]

professional

clark kent x fem!reader

genre: hella fluff, slow burn!!!

summary: what starts out as a quick visit ends up with you staying the night at your coworkers apartment.

warnings: sexual desire??

note: i saw superman (2025) today and got straight to writing. !!no spoilers!!

2k-ish words

it was another late night at the daily planet. you had stayed after hours, organizing the stack of piles on your desk and making sure tomorrow's articles were ready to go out.

the yellow glow of a desk lamp was the only thing illuminating the room, besides the metropolis light pollution just outside of the large office windows.

as you set aside the last of the prints, you noticed a briefcase leaning against the legs of the desk across from yours.

you didn't need to see the KENT plaque just above the clasp to know it was clark's.

he'd been working on something new this morning too and all of his research was probably still laying between the dividers of that brown case.

so you did the polite thing and tucked it under your arm before locking up the building.

as soon as you stepped outside it began pouring rain. just your luck. you tried calling him, but it kept going straight to voicemail.

you went back through your text messages to the day clark had sent you his address for a gift you had mailed him. nothing special.

just a new pencil sharpener. every article at the bugle was typed up and then printed, but clark preferred to do things the old fashioned way.

he'd write out all of his thoughts, scratch things out, crumble up the really poorly written papers, and then type up the fully revised version.

the only problem was, all he had was this tiny handheld sharpener that had seen hell and back. so, you bought him a new one. as a 'thank you' for supporting you and sticking up to perry when you were first starting out.

you scrolled until you found the location pin. was it rude and probably inappropriate to show up to your co-workers house in the middle of the night, unannounced? maybe.

but hopefully clark would see your intentions for what they were. to return a belonging to a friend.

it was a bit of a walk, but you seemed to be distracted the entire time. were you really just helping out? being a good coworker?

or not-so deep down, was there another reason you were making your way to his place this late?

it didn't matter.

before you knew it, you were standing at his door soaked from head to toe.

he nearly opened the door before you had a chance to knock, saying your name with surprise.

"what are you doing here?" he asked, adjusting his glasses.

you shifted from foot to foot a bit as you held the briefcase out to him, "you left this at the planet. thought you might need it."

he looked over it for a moment before taking it from you. his fingers brushed yours as he reached for it, sending a shiver through your entire body.

clark seemed to notice, then took note of how drenched you were, "did you walk here in the rain?" he asked almost rhetorically.

"yeah, but it's not that far," you said with a smile, contradicting the rosy color of your nose.

clark's dark brows pinched together, trying to understand why you would've done such a thing.

he stepped aside, letting the door swing open, "i have towels and you really should change into something...warmer."

he swallowed, noticing that your pencil skirt and blouse were now clinging to your skin from the rain.

"that's really sweet, but i should probably get home," you said with a soft smile, but his arctic blue eyes could've convinced you otherwise on their own.

"you could get hypothermia. i wouldn't be able to forgive myself," clark said.

you let yourself laugh, it always seemed easier around him, "alright then."

you walked into the apartment, following after him as he went on a hunt for towels.

by the time you'd made it to the bedroom, he'd already set one out along with a pair of his clothes.

"i don't know how well they'll fit, but i figure it's better than wet clothes," he says with his signature grin.

you brush your hair out of your face before whispering a thank you, and that's when you notice how close he is. towering over you and only a few inches away.

your heart seems to beat a little faster.

clark looks down at your chest and blushes suddenly before clearing his throat. "i should probably...sorry. the room's all yours," he mumbles awkwardly before stepping out.

as you get changed, you can't help playing the interaction in your head over and over.

clark is the sweetest man you've ever met. he's insanely talented, really intelligent, and genuinely funny. and yet, there's always something in the way.

something you can't quite see, but feel. on paper, he's perfect. but something tells you there's more to clark kent than he lets on.

now draped in his oversized t-shirt and sweatpants that you had to triple fold over, you leave the room.

he's only a few steps away, in the kitchen, pouring hot water over a blue mug.

"i wanted to make sure you had something warm before you go," he said without looking up.

you involuntarily blushed at his considerate nature, "thanks."

he handed you the mug, "careful. it's hot."

"coffee?" you asked hopefully before peeking into the ceramic cup.

he gave you an apologetic look, "tea."

you snickered at his expression before blowing on the beverage to cool it down.

clark leaned against the counter with one arm.

you tried your best to focus on the drink. to not notice the way the muscles in his biceps rippled from holding his weight. to not let your eyes linger on the veins in his forearm too long. or the way his palm was spread out over the marble-

a loud buzz interrupted, yanking you out of your thoughts.

clark raised his eyebrows, reaching for the phone in his pocket. "looks like a flash flood watch," he said quietly.

your fingers curl aroud the mug nervously.

he noticed this, looking down at you sympathetically. "hey, it's going to be okay."

"but...you should probably stay here for the night. if you're comfortable with that, of course," he stutters.

you think it over for a moment.

clark is a gentleman, so it's not like he would try anything. and besides, the rain was coming down hard. flash flood warnings don't get sent out for no reason.

sure, you worked together and this could probably affect your professional relationship if any lines were to be crossed.

so...you would just have to make sure they weren't.

which was easier said than done when he was always looking at you that way.

"you're right," you nod in agreement.

he analyzed you for a moment, as if he was making sure you weren't uncomfortable in any way.

"okay. you can have the bedroom. i'll sleep on the couch," he said politely. you finished what was left in your mug.

"thank you, clark," you said for what felt like the hundredth time tonight and made a mental note to return the favor some time.

you began handing the mug back to clark but the handle slipped through your fingers and it went plummeting towards the tile.

before it could shatter, clark was on his knees, cradling it with one hand.

your breath hitched at the sight of him down there looking back up at you.

maybe you should've apologized. or even laughed it off.

but he stood up so slowly, barely an inch from your face, and you forgot how to think at all.

"careful," he whispered, eyes flickering down to your lips.

ignoring the magnetic force between the two of you, you went your separate ways.

as you crawled into his sheets and rested your head on his pillow, you were sure that was the last you'd see of the raven haired man for the night.

until, a crack of thunder woke you from your sleep. you jolted forward, hand on your chest as your lungs heaved.

clark was already by your side, hand on your shoulder, "it's okay. just breathe. deep breaths in and then out slowly."

you tried to focus on his voice, do what he said. it wasn't easy, but after a few minutes your breathing had slowed.

he'd held onto you the whole time. "are you okay?" clark asked, sincerity in his eyes.

you nodded, "how did you-"

he blinked, trying to understand what you were asking. then it clicked, "oh. i heard you shout. you were crying."

you felt embarrassment wash over you. this didn't happen often, but when it did you'd be plagued with a dreadful feeling all day long.

how fucking perfect for it to happen the one night you choose to spend at someone else's house.

"i'm so sorry," you let your head fall against your bent knees. on the bright side, you'd forgotten what the dream was even about in the first place.

clark's gentle touch fell from your shoulder to squeeze your hand, "don't say that. it's not your fault."

"it's not your fault." his words echoed in your head.

you let your fingers brush against his, "i woke you."

he shook his head, a single curl falling against his forehead, "i wasn't asleep."

clark wasn't going to tell you it was because he'd been worried about you, listening for the slightest sniffle in case you'd caught something out in the rain.

he just gave you a once-over, double checking that you were okay, before straightening his posture, "you should get some sleep."

your heart dropped as he let go of your hand. as he began to leave, you looked out at the window behind him.

the clouds crackled with fury.

"clark," your voice came out weak.

he turned back to you without hesitation.

"do you wanna stay? maybe talk?" you asked.

clark's eyes went slightly wider and he seemed at a loss for words.

you fidgeted, "it's just, i don't think i'll be able to go back to sleep. and it's kind of awful being alone in here."

"i don't know how you do it," you laughed.

the smile he gave you reached his eyes and he sat beside you without a word.

you moved over, making sure he had enough space before leaning back against the headboard, "tell me about your latest piece."

clark began rambling on and on about news in metropolis. how big corporations were affecting small businesses and something about climate change.

you weren't really sure. at some point you began falling asleep, your head slowly sinking down onto his shoulder.

he stopped talking as he felt you curl up against him, taking a moment to admire your peaceful state.

after making sure you were fully asleep, he gently laid you down against the pillows, pulling the covers up over you.

"goodnight," he whispered before making a move to slip out of bed. but before he could, your arm was flung over his lap.

he let out a short, breathy laugh before trying again.

this time, your fingers curled around his shirt and tugged him closer.

so clark had no choice but to stay there by your side all night long, even dozed off sitting up a few times.

by morning, you'd completely forgotten where you were.

that was until you saw his face. his jaw slack, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose as he snored quietly.

the morning glow hit his features just right and he suddenly didn't look like shy, quiet clark kent.

he looked like something carved by greeks. he looked like a god.

almost as if he could feel you staring, he blinked, slowly waking up. clark gave you a curious look, "were you watching me sleep?"

your eyebrows shot up, "what!? no, of course not. that would be weird."

he nodded slowly, "it would be weird. but, i don't mind weird."

you chewed your bottom lip nervously as your thoughts ran wild. it had only just seemed to dawn on you that you were currently at clark kent's apartment, laying in clark kent's bed, wearing clark kent's clothes.

"you talk in your sleep, ya' know?" he smirked.

you frowned, "um. no, i did not know that."

he looked at you like he knew something you didn't.

"what?? what did i say," you asked, bracing yourself for impact.

clark shook his head reassuringly, "nothing."

you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in as he pulled off the covers and walked over to his dresser, taking a sip from a glass that you hadn't noticed before.

"and i'll make sure that you dreaming of my big, strong arms is off the record," he said smugly and casually.

you gasped in horror, "CLARK!" you threw a pillow at him, missing terribly and being subjected to the sound of his chaotic laughter.

[nyoru]

━━━ SMART BOY, SHOW ME

ㅤsypnosis ⁝ㅤㅤif you were going to learn anything, why not ask the smartest person you know ?ㅤㅤ〝 cw.ㅤㅤprotected sex, mentions of virginity ﹢ sexual curiosity, light body worship / praise, best friends to ??ㅤㅤ﹪ㅤㅤ𝗒𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝗌𝗂-𝖾𝗎𝗇 × 𝖿!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

you met si-eun when you were sixteen. he sat alone at the back of the classroom, a thin shadow against the window, always half-lit by grey skies and never once acknowledging the chatter around him. he was the type of person who didn’t seem real at first. quiet in a way that wasn’t shy, just detached. still. not like a boy, but like a blade, folded cold and sharp.

you, on the other hand, were always a little too soft. not dumb. not loud. just… curious in a way people didn’t always understand. you liked to ask questions no one else thought to ask. and si-eun, for all his silence, never once ignored you when you did.

the first time you spoke to him, you asked if he liked the rain. he looked at you for a long moment, eyes unreadable, and said, “i don’t like or dislike things. they just happen.” you nodded. then sat beside him the next day. and every day after that.

friendship with si-eun wasn’t simple. he didn’t laugh much. didn’t talk unless there was something to say. but you learned to read the space between his words. how his fingers twitched when he was thinking hard. how he always bought two bottles of water and silently handed you one without asking. how he walked you home when the sun went down, even if he never said why.

you got used to it — his silence, his stares, the way he always seemed like he was calculating the world and choosing you anyway.

people didn’t get it. they said si-eun was scary. too smart. too closed off. and maybe he was. but not with you.

with you, he listened. when you asked about physics, he explained. when you forgot things, he remembered. when you cried over a bad grade, he let you sulk in his room and only rolled his eyes once, before quietly pushing a packet of snacks your way.

you admired him. that was the simplest truth of it all. not in a puppy love way. not like those girls who whispered about him in the halls. you admired the way he always knew what to do. how he seemed immune to everything that confused you — emotions, impulses, the mess of being young. si-eun had answers. you.. had questions.

you always thought si-eun was a little unreal. not in the dramatic, daydream kind of way. more like he didn’t seem to belong to the same world as everyone else. while your classmates stumbled over themselves, trying to be liked or seen or chosen, si-eun just existed. unbothered. untouched. like the rules everyone else followed didn’t apply to him, and maybe they didn’t.

he was too smart, too fast, too aware of everything. not just in class — though his grades made teachers swoon — but in fights too, the kind that happened in empty stairwells or behind buildings when someone pushed too far. he always won. but to you, he was just si-eun.

you, who couldn’t punch a wall without crying. who didn’t understand half the formulas written on the board. who walked through the world like it was full of things you hadn’t figured out yet. and somehow, for reasons you never fully grasped, he liked being around you.

sometimes you wondered why. you talked too much. you asked questions that made other people look at you funny. once you asked si-eun if he believed in ghosts and spent the next fifteen minutes rambling about the difference between spirits and shadows. he didn’t interrupt. didn’t laugh. just listened, completely still, until you trailed off with a sheepish “…never mind.”

“I think you’re more interesting than a textbook,” he said after a beat and hell you didn’t stop smiling for hours.

the others noticed it, of course. “why does he only talk to you?” su-ho once asked, mouth full of snack crumbs and voice full of suspicion. “like, what do you even do to him?”

“is he maybe into weird girls?” he snorted, dodging a soda can you threw at his head. “it’s kinda funny watching him look at you like that.” he added.

you had no idea what su-ho or they meant. you weren’t doing anything. si-eun was just your friend. your weird, closed-off, unnaturally competent friend who let you fall asleep on his shoulder during movie nights and always stood a little too close in crowded places.

who handed you napkins without being asked when you spilled something. who once got a nosebleed during a fight and still texted you right after: you need help with physics tomorrow?

you didn’t overthink it. you admired him, sure. everyone did. but your admiration was different.

you liked how he remembered small things. like how you hated seafood and couldn’t drink coffee without sugar. you liked how he never tried to make you feel smaller for being confused or slow. even when you whined and said things like “i’m gonna drop out and open a flower shop,” si-eun just nodded and said, “you’d be good at that.”

he didn’t say things unless he meant them. and that made you want to believe every word that came out of his mouth. he wasn’t as expressionless as people thought, either. you learned how to read him.

when he was annoyed, he’d tap his fingers — short, quick movements like he was trying not to snap. when he was amused, he’d blink a little slower, the corners of his mouth twitching like he was trying not to smile.

and when he looked at you, sometimes — just sometimes — there was something different in his eyes. not fondness, exactly. something heavier. softer. you didn’t know what to call it, but it made your skin feel too warm.

si-eun wasn’t much of a talker, but he never shut you out. not really. once, you asked him if he liked being your friend. it was a stupid question. you regretted it the second it left your mouth.

but he looked at you and said, “you’re the only person who makes me feel like.. i’m not just good for fixing things.” you didn’t say anything back. just leaned against him and hoped he could hear your heartbeat. it was loud. embarrassingly so.

and now, you were in si-eun’s room again, the one place that never changed. the curtains were still half-drawn, the light outside dim enough to make everything inside feel like it was holding its breath.

his desk was organized like always — books stacked in perfect columns, black pens lined in a row, a digital clock ticking too quietly. you were on the floor, stretched out on your stomach, chin propped up on your arms, your phone somewhere nearby but forgotten.

si-eun sat behind you, back against the wall, legs stretched long beside yours. he was scrolling through something on his tablet, probably notes you wouldn’t understand even if you tried. you didn’t know why your heart had been beating too fast all day.

maybe it was because you’d started noticing things you used to ignore. like the way his hair had grown just a little longer over his ears. or how his sleeves were pushed up, exposing veins and wrist bones and that thin scar on his forearm that you’d once touched without thinking.

or how his voice sounded different when he talked to you — slower, quieter, like he didn’t need to say much at all to keep you listening. you couldn’t focus. your thoughts were loud in your head, tangled up and restless.

you were thinking about how you’d never kissed anyone before. not seriously. not properly. and you weren’t embarrassed, exactly — it just felt strange. like you were missing something that everyone else seemed to understand instinctively. like you were too far behind, and eventually someone would find out.

but the real problem wasn’t the kiss. it was that you kept thinking about what it might be like if si-eun was the one to teach you. the thought had been creeping in lately. quiet, uninvited. the way his mouth would feel. the way his hand might tilt your jaw.

the way he’d look at you after. it didn’t make sense — you weren’t dating. he wasn’t flirty. he wasn’t even particularly gentle. but there was something in the way he always noticed you. something that made your stomach twist and your fingers curl.

so you said it. you didn’t even mean to. it just slipped out, too casual, too soft, like a pebble dropped into still water.

“hey… can I ask you something?”

si-eun hummed. not looking up yet.

“it’s gonna sound really dumb.”

he glanced at you then. his face was unreadable, but you could feel his attention sharpening. he always listened like that — completely, like he was watching a wire for signs of tension.

you hesitated. your skin prickled.

“…do you know how to kiss someone?”

the silence hit you immediately. thick. loaded. you almost regretted saying it — almost laughed it off, ready to cover it up with a joke, but then he sat forward slightly, tablet lowering to his lap, and your breath caught in your throat.

“why are you asking me that?” his voice was calm. too calm. not teasing, not annoyed, just.. still?

you swallowed, suddenly aware of how close you were to him, how the space between your knees and his was barely wide enough to fit a thought.

“I don’t know,” you said, your voice smaller now. “I guess… I was just wondering. you always seem to know everything. and—” you paused. “I haven’t. not really. I mean, I’ve never done it properly.”

si-eun stared at you for a long time. his eyes weren’t cold, but they were heavy, like he was holding something back. something sharp and coiled and dangerous, sitting quiet just under the surface.

“and you want me to teach you?”

you blinked, he didn’t sound surprised, more like he was trying to confirm it. like he’d already run the calculations in his head and was now trying to decide if he should press the button.

you sat up slowly, heart pounding so hard you thought it might echo. “I just thought… if anyone could explain it, it’d be you.”

he let out a breath. not a laugh. just an exhale, low and almost bitter. “you really think kissing someone is something you can explain?”

your mouth opened. closed. “you’re smart,” you tried again, weakly. “you’re good at things.”

“i’m not good at this.”

you tilted your head, trying to read him. “you’ve kissed someone before, right?”

he didn’t answer, which meant yes. you nodded, trying to play it cool, trying to stay where the air wasn’t burning.

“i’m just curious,” you said, softer now. “i’ve never done it. I don’t know what it’s supposed to feel like.”

si-eun didn’t move for a long time. then, quietly: “what do you want it to feel like?”

you blinked. “I… don’t know. warm, I guess?” his jaw tensed. his hands stayed in his lap, fingers laced together, like he was trying not to reach for something. you. the air. anything.

you didn’t say anything else. just watched him. waited. the way you always did when he needed time to think. and finally, si-eun looked up. looked at you.

“come here.”

your chest squeezed. you didn’t know what he meant, not exactly — but you moved anyway. toward him. slow. unsure. your knees touched his first. then your legs slid between his. your hands hovered. you didn’t know where to put them. he fixed that for you.

si-eun reached out, and gently — like he’d been imagining this for a long time — he cupped your face. his palm was warm. steady. your skin lit up under his fingers.

he looked at you like he was memorizing you. like he didn’t know whether to pull back or fall forward. and maybe, for the first time in all the years you’d known him, he looked a little unsure.

but his voice didn’t shake. “i’ll show you once,” he said, low. “but after that… you don’t get to pretend you don’t know what you’re doing anymore.” you nodded.

his mouth met yours slowly, at first. like he was testing it — testing you — making sure you wouldn't flinch, wouldn’t pull away once you realized this wasn’t just about helping you anymore. this wasn’t about being smart, or useful, or your reliable best friend. this was him giving in to a thought he shouldn’t have had in the first place.

you didn’t move for the first second. you just felt it. how warm his lips were. how firm. how careful he was, like he was afraid one wrong angle might make you disappear. and then he tilted his head just slightly, hand still cradling your cheek, and kissed you deeper.

and you made a sound — a soft, breathy sound in the back of your throat — that made him freeze. just for a moment. like hearing you respond flipped something in him he hadn’t meant to turn on.

his other hand came up, resting at the side of your neck, and his thumb brushed over the pulse there. and you didn’t even realize you were leaning into him until your knees were bracketing his thighs and your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.

“you’re shaking,” he murmured, against your mouth.

“you kissed me,” you breathed back.

he huffed something between a laugh and a groan, thumb dragging lightly across your bottom lip as he pulled back a fraction — just enough to look at you.

“this was your idea.”

“you said just once.”

“do you want me to stop?”

you stared at him, he looked calm, too calm. again. but his eyes — his eyes were glassy, his breath unsteady, and you could feel it in the way his hands stayed on your skin like he didn’t want to let go.

you shook your head, slow. “no.”

his jaw flexed, and then he kissed you again, hungrier. no more holding back. no more waiting. the second his mouth opened over yours, you felt your whole body react — your stomach tightening, thighs pressing in, heart stuttering out of rhythm.

his tongue slid past your lips, coaxing yours to move, to respond, and gosh — gosh — the low sound he made when you kissed him back with more pressure, more curiosity, more want —

you’d never heard that from him before.

your hands were in his hair before you could think about it, fingers digging in as he pulled you closer, mouth hot and desperate now. he shifted beneath you, letting you settle fully in his lap, your knees on either side of his hips — and when your bodies pressed flush like that, you both gasped into the kiss at the same time.

his grip tightened on your waist. “fuck,” he muttered, lips dragging down to your jaw, your neck. “you don’t even know what you’re doing to me.”

“then show me,” you whispered. “teach me.” he let out a shaky breath. like he was barely hanging on.

“you have no idea what you’re asking for.” but his hands were already sliding beneath your shirt, and you weren’t stopping him.

his fingers slid under your shirt, slow and tentative, careful not to make any sudden movements as if you were something delicate. you weren’t sure why your body trembled at his touch — it was barely anything, just skin grazing skin, the slightest warmth over your waist — but somehow it made you feel stripped raw.

like you were finally standing on the edge of something you’d only ever dared to imagine. you didn’t stop him. you tilted your head instead, offering more of your throat, and his mouth found the hollow there — gentle, reverent, teeth barely brushing.

his palms flattened, spanning across your hips, feeling the rise and fall of your breath like he was memorizing it. “you okay?” he asked you softly, voice lower than usual, hoarse at the edges.

you nodded. “yeah.” he paused, like he was giving you space to change your mind. “you’re sure?” your fingers curled around his wrists, holding him to you. grounding him. “I trust you.”

and that must’ve been all he needed. because something in him cracked. a quiet breaking, not a loud one, like ice melting, like something long-contained finally spilling over.

his mouth was back on yours with a hunger that hadn’t been there before, lips parting yours open, tongue licking into your mouth with purpose. he kissed you like he’d been waiting a lifetime. kissed you like this was all he’d ever wanted but never believed he could have.

and when his hips rolled up against yours, you felt it — him. hard beneath his sweats, thick and undeniable, pressing right where you were already aching. your breath caught. your legs tensed around his sides. you whimpered, just a little, and his forehead dropped to your shoulder with a guttural sound.

“fuck,” he muttered, voice low and shaken. “don’t do that.”

“what?” you breathed.

“make sounds like that. I—” his hands gripped your waist tighter. “i’m trying to go slow.”

you could feel your pulse everywhere now. your thighs clenched again, instinctively, seeking friction. “you want to stop?” he asked, a final out, even now, even with the way his body trembled.

you shook your head. “no. I don’t want to stop.” he lifted his head. his eyes were dark, lashes fluttering slightly like he was holding back something deeper. “do you want me to be your first?”

your answer came in a whisper. “yes.”

he kissed you once more, slower this time. then reached beside the bed, into the drawer, and when he pulled out a condom, you blinked.

“you just… have that?”

his mouth twitched. not quite a smile. “su-ho gave it to me.”

“as a joke?”

“he said something stupid. like, about how I need to ‘get laid before I die cause my pen doesn't work anymore’ or something.”

you laughed, despite yourself. and si-eun’s eyes softened.

“but now,” he said, voice turning quiet again, “i’m glad I have it.”

he rolled it on carefully. you watched, heart pounding, seeing him fully now for the first time. long and thick, flushed at the tip, already leaking. your mouth went dry.

you hadn’t seen a guy naked before, let alone like this, aroused, ready. you swallowed hard, thighs tightening. your whole body ached with nerves and want.

“you okay?” he asked again, brushing hair from your face. “yeah,” you managed. “just… new.”

he leaned down and kissed your temple. “then we’ll go slow.”

he pulled your shorts and underwear down in one motion, so gently it felt like a question. you lifted your hips, let him slide the fabric away, suddenly aware of the cool air on your exposed skin, the vulnerability of being bare in front of someone for the first time. but he didn’t leer. didn’t stare. he looked at you like you were something to be honored. something sacred.

his fingers slid between your legs, testing. your whole body jerked at the first touch — light pressure over your clit that made your thighs twitch.

“you’re already wet,” he said, breath catching. “fuck. you’re soaking.”

your face burned. “sorry—”

“don’t apologize,” he said quickly. “that’s good. that’s so good.”

he dipped one finger lower, easing it into you slowly. you gasped at the stretch. even that was new. he stilled, letting your body adjust, whispering, “breathe,” as he stroked your inner walls gently.

once you relaxed, he added another, curling his fingers, spreading you open with deliberate care. the sound of your slick filled the space between you — wet, soft, real. when he pressed his thumb back to your clit, circling it gently, your hips jolted, and you whined.

“you’re doing so good,” he whispered. “so fucking good.”

your eyes fluttered shut, body rocking helplessly against his hand. when his fingers finally slipped away, you felt empty. needy. but then he was positioning himself, cock brushing against your entrance.

“deep breath,” he murmured. “i’ll go slow.”

and he did.

the first push was the hardest. you tensed without meaning to, your cunt clenching, breath hitching — but he paused, whispered to you again, and let your body guide him.

once you opened up, he eased in deeper. your fingers clawed at his shoulders, trying to hold onto something. the stretch burned. it was full, unrelenting, almost too much.

he was big. bigger than you’d expected. and still he moved gently, carefully, until his hips were flush with yours and you’d taken all of him.

“jesus christ,” he breathed, shaking. “you feel—so tight. so fucking perfect.”

you exhaled shakily. “you’re big.”

he chuckled softly, forehead pressing to yours. “you’re doing amazing.”

he didn’t move right away. just kissed your cheek, your collarbone, brushing his nose against your skin like he was grounding himself.

your walls fluttered around him, already adjusting, and when he finally started to thrust — slow and shallow — it knocked the air from your lungs.

each movement was controlled. each drag of his cock inside you purposeful. he hit deeper with every rock of his hips, and it didn’t take long before your body began to want it.

your breath hitched. your fingers dug in. you let out a moan — small, involuntary — and si-eun groaned. “fuck. that sound.”

you tilted your hips toward him instinctively, seeking more, and he took the cue. he rolled his hips, found a rhythm. and when he shifted slightly — angled deeper — you cried out.

“right there?”

you nodded helplessly. “si-eun—please—”

his hand found your clit again, rubbing you just right while he fucked you through slow, deep strokes. your head fell back. the tension was building fast now, tight, molten, dizzying. your cunt squeezed around him with every thrust, every perfect touch.

and then you broke. your orgasm hit like a tidal wave, rushing through your body, stealing your breath, leaving you writhing beneath him. your cunt fluttered around his cock, milking him, and that’s what pushed him over.

he groaned your name, voice wrecked, and fucked into you one last time, deep and hard. you felt him twitch, felt the heat of him spill into the condom as he came, hips stuttering, body pressed tight to yours, jaw clenched.

you collapsed into each other, breathless and shaking, his arms wrapping around you like he couldn’t bear to let you go. neither of you spoke for a while. but eventually, he kissed your shoulder and whispered, “you’re mine now, you know.”

and you smiled, because you already were. you didn’t know how long the silence stretched between you after it was over, only that you didn’t want to move from the warmth of his body or the way his arms had circled around you so tightly, like he was afraid you’d slip away.

his breath was still a little uneven against your skin, his chest rising and falling against your back now that he’d pulled you into a side hold, your legs tangled under the sheets and your heart still thudding softly in your chest.

he hadn’t said anything more since the last kiss he’d pressed to your shoulder. hadn’t asked how you were. hadn’t pulled away or shifted like he was finished with you.

he was just holding you.

you weren’t sure what came over you, but your fingers reached out and curled lightly into the soft fabric of his shirt, he’d pulled it on again after discarding the condom and wiping you up with the gentlest hands, like it was the most natural thing in the world to clean and dress you himself.

you hadn’t even realized how shy you felt until that part, but he hadn’t teased. hadn’t smirked. just murmured, “tell me if anything hurts, okay?” and you remembered thinking then, he really did think everything through. even now.

“you’re really quiet,” you whispered, voice still hoarse.

his arm tightened around your waist. “thinking.”

“about what?”

he paused for a beat, and then his voice came out low. “how lucky i am.”

you blinked.

your heart stuttered in a different way now, softer, almost painful. he wasn’t the type to say things like that. si-eun didn’t do grand confessions or obvious declarations. he always kept his feelings close to his chest. but now, lying here in the dim warmth of your room, the words felt like they’d slipped out before he could stop them.

you didn’t say anything back. just nudged your head gently under his chin and curled into him more fully.

and for the first time, you felt his lips brush your hair. not in a lustful way. not in a way that tried to start anything again. just quiet affection. soft. steady. like he didn’t want the moment to end either.

you don’t remember when you fell asleep, only that you woke up the next morning still in his arms.

he was already awake when you opened your eyes, blinking blearily against the sunlight seeping in through your curtains. his hair was a little messy, eyes on you like he’d been watching you for a while now, but not in a way that made you nervous. he looked.. calm. at peace. like maybe sleeping beside someone had made him rest easier than he had in years.

“morning,” he murmured, voice rough.

you smiled sleepily. “hi.”

he looked like he wanted to say something, then settled for brushing your cheek with the back of his hand. “you still good?”

“mmhmm.” you stretched slightly, muscles sore but not unpleasantly so. “better than good.”

he looked relieved. and then, like something clicked in his head, he muttered, “wait—class. what time is it?”

“we have plenty of time,” you said, laughing softly. “I always set an early alarm.”

he groaned and flopped back beside you, an arm thrown over his eyes. “you’re too responsible.”

“well, you need me to keep you on track.”

you hadn’t meant it to come out so naturally, but the second you said it, you felt his hand drop from his face and his eyes meet yours again. and not that heavy, unblinking stare you used to catch him slipping into when he thought no one noticed.

his eyes had always carried something haunted in them, ever since the day you met. something fractured, a little hollow, like he’d learned too early that the world could betray you if you weren’t ready for it.

but this morning, it was different. you didn’t notice it right away. it was in the tiny shift. the way his gaze warmed instead of hardened. how he blinked slower, more at ease, like the knots in his chest had loosened overnight. you stared at him for a long second, trying to trace what had changed — and then you realized.

the sadness was still there. maybe it always would be. but it wasn’t all-consuming anymore. not sharp. not cold. there was something softer behind his eyes now.

something that bloomed quiet and tender, like spring cracking through frost. and for the first time, he didn’t look like he was fighting himself just to be here. he looked like he wanted to be.

you leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “you’re different today.”

he raised a brow. “already?”

“I mean it in a good way,” you said. “your eyes don’t look sad.”

he was quiet for a second, then laughed under his breath. “maybe it’s because you kissed me back.”

“maybe it’s because I let you fuck me.”

he turned to face you fully, lips twitching into a smirk now, but not cocky. still fond. “both.”

you rolled your eyes and shoved at him lightly. he caught your hand. and then he said, “can I take you somewhere today?”

you blinked. “what do you mean?”

“after class. I wanna take you out. just us.”

your heart flipped a little. “a date?”

he nodded.

“okay,” you whispered. “i’d really like that.”

the walk to campus that morning felt strangely new, even though it was the same sidewalk you took every morning. the sun was a little too bright, your bag slung too casually over your shoulder, and si-eun was right beside you — hands in his pockets, that unreadable expression on his face that made most people wary of him.

but not you. not anymore. not with the way his pinky kept brushing yours on purpose as you walked. not with the way he leaned in to murmur, “you’re sure you’re not sore?” while your classmates were still ten feet behind.

and definitely not with the way you glanced up and saw it again — that look in his eyes. no longer cold, no longer cracked, still intense, still si-eun.

but clearer, softer, like he could breathe a little easier. like you were the first thing he’d ever let soften him. and god, you wanted to protect that softness for as long as he’d let you.

[celestiaras]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ oh my god (she showed me all the stars ]❜

━━━ .°˖✧ requested by ✨ anon ˚₊ ⊹

ft. rumi x f! reader — kpop demon hunters

╰₊✧ rumi has her first time with her girlfriend┊1.7k words

contains: smut!! dom reader & sub rumi┊established relationship, rumi’s first time with another girl, scissoring, mentions of a past boyfriend 

➤ author's note: don’t be fooled by how hot she looks in the gif, she’s a total bottom here

rumi isn’t the most experienced when it comes to relationships and sex due to her busy lifestyle, but she isn’t a virgin, if you must know. she’s had a boyfriend before, two if you count the one in middle school (she doesn’t because she doesn’t remember his name), back in college when she was tense and stressed all the time while trying to juggle getting her degree, training to be an idol, and training to be a demon hunter. he was a nice guy: smart, funny, handsome, but she always knew that he wasn’t the one for her, more like a device to pass the time by making it more enjoyable with company and to stop the questions on why she was still single when she was as pretty as she was. to be completely honest, she doesn’t exactly remember much about her first time, even though it’s supposed to be a special event. it’s more of a blur because they had come back from a party and had quite a few drinks in their systems, but she certainly remembers the lack of sexual chemistry and feeling quite disappointed afterwards, even though they both had their orgasms. they did a few more times after that, but there was a lack of spark, like they were only going through the motions because couples were supposed to.

then they broke up after her rise as an idol, no longer having much time for him and no longer being able to live normally without being swarmed by paparazzi. she was more confused than anything about her lack of heartbreak over the entire thing, and for quite a while after that, she thought there was something wrong with her other than her half-demon blood. he really was a good guy all around, many said she was so lucky to be with a guy like him, but she didn’t understand it when she felt so neutral about him in every sense. 

soon, she realized that the issue wasn’t her lack of passion, but rather, she was simply with the wrong person (and was probably only with him due to pressure from outside forces to be with a man even if she didn’t care for him, which was the final verdict reached with the help of her elder gay friends during a sleepover), because once she caught feelings for you, she quickly found herself absolutely infatuated as if all of the feelings she was supposed to have for her previous boyfriend said “double it and give it to the next person.”

when you asked her out to be yours, she nearly passed out on the pavement right there because of the overwhelming amount of dopamine going to her brain, making her first instinct to scream about it to her friends before remembering that she actually had to agree. every day was christmas day with you after that, even if they were as mundane as just relaxing on the couch together or helping her practice choreography. she just adores you so much, and it makes her feel like a girl in a fairytale who got her forever happily ever after.

so when you have her in bed like this, underneath you and pressed into the mattress, fully sober and making out sensually on your bed with your hands instinctively starting to wander all over her body after pinning her wrists to the side of her head, she feels nervous. she’s never done with another girl before and doesn’t know much about it as a result, and she feared she would disappoint you in the same way she was disappointed by her ex. 

you could tell that she was worried by the way she was suddenly hesitating to continue, so you let go of her for a moment and looked her in the eyes, full of understanding in a way that only wanted what was best for her, “we don’t have to do anything tonight, you know. we could just cuddle and watch a movie if you want—”

“no! it’s not that i don’t want it, it’s just… i’ve never done it with another girl before, and i’m just… not that experienced in general…”

“i don’t mind that, i just want you to be comfortable, that’s all.”

“i am! and i really want to do it with you, i’m just a little… nervous, that’s all…” how is it that she was easily able to perform in front of millions as an idol, but was suddenly getting shy about intimacy between girlfriends?

her ears were burning from embarrassment, finding it hard to believe that she could easily perform in front of millions as an idol but was suddenly getting shy about intimacy between girlfriends.

“don’t worry about it, it’s completely normal,” you assured. “whatever you want to try, i’ll teach you.”

“well, i… could you… could we try… scissoring?” her ears were burning from embarrassment, evident by how red they were, and her voice had lowered to a kind of high-pitched whisper. 

“you wanna try scissoring?”

“i just… you know, i wanna know if it’s real or just a porn thing… zoey said it didn’t really do anything for her but mira said it did… so i was wondering if it would work for me?”

god, she’s so cute when she’s all shy and submissive like this. you wanted to tease her so badly, but you refrained, knowing that this was a vulnerable moment for her. besides, you’ll have all the time in the world to do it when she’s more confident, moving to kiss her again to unravel her anxiousness, “just lay there and be pretty for me, okay princess?”

rumi’s already a hot mess and melting like putty in your hands, both at the term of endearment and the mere thought of your lower lips ‘kissing’ like the upper ones were right now. you could tell how aroused she was by it when you pulled off her underwear, cute and pink and so soaked that there was an evident wet patch in the fabric, and you couldn’t help but place a little kiss on her pretty flower-like pussy to watch her blush all over. the intricate patterns painted were starting to flicker in a similar vibrant purple as her hair, making you wonder how they would light up like fireworks when she orgasms. 

her mind is running in laps as you strip yourself of your own clothing to match her nude state and position yourself to interlock legs in the most comfortable position. it’s her first time properly seeing you naked, the only other time being when she accidentally walked in on you changing before bolting out of there in mortification, but she’s laying there questioning how on god’s green earth a loser like her who was barely able to string together a sentence when you first met managed to pull and be in bed with a goddess like you. 

the gawking didn’t last for much longer as you pulled her close to you, and she finally felt your two heats meet, so close and intimate in ways she’d never believed possible. it seemed so natural to her to be like this, with your hips slowly moving in a constant motion to press your cunts together, allowing her to feel every inch of you against her in the best way possible. the pressure was making pleasure build as the stimulation made her let out a moan, unable to help herself from also moving to copy your actions and make it faster and better. 

the entire thing is so exhilarating with her heart beating out of her chest as your clits kiss and grind against each other, providing the most exhilarating feeling she could have ever dreamed of. it’s all so intimate, as if this was a ritual that was helping connect your souls in a deeper manner, and she’s felt closer to you now more than ever, both physically and emotionally.

 she peeked one eye open to watch your through her long lashes, observing how yours were screwed shut with the most beautiful expression she’s ever seen while you focus on the movement, the light of the nearby lamp catching in the light sheen of sweat coating your soft skin and making you look more radiant than normal. 

an unfamiliar knot was beginning to form in her abdomen. her mind was all hazy, and she briefly wondered if you had noticed that there were tears in the corners of her eyes and a little bit of drool starting to trickle down her mouth at the heavenly ecstasy. she’s close, she could feel it, but in a way, she didn’t want it to happen yet. you would probably start with aftercare after she bursts like a bubble, being all sweet and tender as you help clean her up, but in a way, she didn’t want this to end yet even if it meant she’ll pass out from exhaustion.

she wants to go all night if it were possible, and if you were willing to. she has plenty of stamina from always singing and dancing for the better part of the day for most of her recent years, and she’s sure she could keep up with whatever you threw her way, even if you wanted to strap her down or finger her senseless or anything else you wanted to do.

all of these wild things running through her head of you using her until she was completely spent was enough to send her over the edge after a mere six minutes of stimulation with her eyes rolling to the back of her skull and her toes curling. “god, that was… that was so perfect,” she whispered once she came down from her high, noticing that her patterns had taken on a gentle glow and that there was a slight numbing feeling in her quivering thighs. it was one of the most amazing feelings she’s ever experienced, second only to the day she found out she would be debuting with her dearest friends but before the day she graduated high school. 

“here, i’ll help you get cleaned up and run a bath—”

“wait!” she called out, grabbing onto your wrist. you still haven’t came yet, and even if you were putting all of your focus on her, she could see that you were still in clear need of your own release. “could you also teach me how to… how to eat… pussy?”

request:

Hi hi! ✨ anon here again! Hope you’re having a good day/night! The last prompt was so good! I loved Rumi’s part! I was wondering if I could request a nsfw fic with Rumi and a female reader? With Rumi being new to wlw intimacy (new to it in general, but not knowing as much about sapphic spicy stuff) And her girlfriend guiding her through it? (Stuff like scissoring and eating out for example) Thanks! And please take your time! No worries!

[jawllines]

“I think this is the best idea you’ve ever had in your life.” Niall answered, his voice lowered while they sat across from each other in a cafe booth. It was a relatively nice day, the weather was beautiful, so they were planning on doing something – what that would be, they weren’t sure, but they started it with lattes and croissants and discussing something that shouldn’t be discussed in public (but what’s new), “Seriously, like – and I just need to take a deep breath because you’re finally listening to me. I don’t know how to tell you this but I bought you a collar like a month ago because I knew you’d pussy out.” 

Y/N’s mouth falls open, jaw loosened, “Ni, you did not!” 

“I did,” he nodded, “I didn’t get the rest of all the things because I didn’t know how you’d feel about it,” he swallowed, then shook his head, “No, I’m lying, I wanted you to fully commit to the bit so I ordered everything. Leash, tail. . .I mean, fuck it, I got ears too.”

or

Y/N likes Harry, and that's convenient, because Harry likes her too

[warning: pet play!!]

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 4

part 5

(8.4k+ words)

vi.

Y/N has never been very good at science. 

Life sciences, like biology, she could figure out easily enough if there were pictures, and chemistry, she could fumble her way through after spending at least an hour screaming into her pillow about how much she didn’t want to do it. Things like physics, though, always zipped right over her head. With a limited understanding of whatever the hell Newton and Einstein were talking about also came a limited understanding of anything that may have to do with space. It was interesting, but actually learning about the concepts that shape their whole universe? Terrifying. Y/N would rather not know how big the galaxies are, because then she needs to start considering the existence of extraterrestrial life, and she feels like as soon as you go down that rabbit hole, you’re asking to get abducted. 

But she does know about supernovas. Only because of a song that she really liked mentioned them, and she had to see what it was. There was a long, intricate explanation as to why they happen, but what Y/N took away from it was that they were an explosion, and it was so bright, it could outshine galaxies. Beautiful colors emerge, blues, purples, pinks, greens, oranges, impressive and intense. 

Whatever is happening in her chest right now, Y/N thinks is close to a supernova. It feels just as colorful and complex. As bewitching, and as dazzling. As captivating, and as terrifying. Her heart races with it, confused, excited, overjoyed, hopelessly giddy. She probably needed a moment to sort through all the thoughts spinning around in her head, but right now, she knew she wouldn’t get one. She didn’t mind that either – not right now. Not when this is a version of Harry that she’d never been privy to. One that she’d never believed she’d ever get to witness. 

Harry, from the moment he’d stepped through her door, was more vulnerable than she’d ever seen him. And she’d seen him with his cock out and everything, consumed by lust, his bare bum walking to her bathroom – all pretty vulnerable positions, she’d say. Like, he definitely wouldn’t want to be caught by a bear in that state. But this emotional vulnerability was something else entirely for such a typically emotionally guarded, closed-off person. The impassive and at times apathetic man that she had come to know had been dipped in honey and set before her. Or, better yet, maybe dipped in an acid, to erode the outer shell and reveal the honeyed center beneath. 

He’d taken her to the sofa immediately, sat down across from her, his hands held out with his palms facing upward, and Y/N wasn’t sure if it’d been a silent request or a silent offering. Maybe both – she took it, no matter what it was, and slid her fingers between his own. Their hands were tight around one another's, as Harry curled his over her knuckles, his thumb stroked her where it lay. 

“I wanted to apologize to you,” Harry started, measured and sure, despite the way his cheeks flamed hot and fiery with what she could only imagine was immense embarrassment. Not that she thought his reaction was anything to be embarrassed about – had roles been reversed, she probably would have cried the moment she saw him then tried to crawl up under his shirt or something. But she knew that Harry wasn’t used to expressing himself or his feelings this intensely, so she understood the nerves behind it. “I should have warned you that Maren would be there, but I wasn’t sure how. . .how to explain why I was telling you? I guess that’s the easiest way to put it. And I really didn’t think she’d be a problem – she’s always been a thorn in my ass, but she usually isn’t so pointed with her advances.” He shook his head with a soft sigh, “But that’s beside the point. You mentioned me not messaging you as much?” Y/N nodded, and Harry nodded with her, “That had nothing to do with Maren,” he explained, “I was. . .if I’m honest, I was worried that I had been too overbearing while you were out for that week.” 

Y/N tilted her head, “Overbearing? I didn’t think so.” She shook her head, “You really took care of me. If you want to see overbearing, you need to meet Ni’s aunt – she checks his forehead like 5 times in the span of 10 minutes to make sure he isn’t too warm.” 

A small smile wormed onto his mouth, warmed and soothed the worry off of his face, “That’s good to know,” he replied, “I suppose I got into my head too, about it all. Especially when you didn’t want to talk to me.” 

With a grimace, Y/N explained herself, “Yeah, that – I didn’t handle that well, I don’t think,” she swallowed hard, “I just – um. . .like I was – I kind of thought I walked in on you two kissing?” Then she hurriedly adds, “Which is within your right to do! You aren’t not allowed to do what you want, I just didn't –” she huffed a sigh, unsure of how to articulate it beyond the easiest way, which happened to be the most humiliating, “I know we aren’t technically together or anything, but it made me jealous. I was jealous, and petty, and wanted to ignore you until I could sort myself out. I get it if the whole jealousy thing makes you uncomfortable, and like...I mean, I want to promise that it won’t happen again, but I don’t know if I can.” She swallowed even harder, chin tipped down, staring at their hands. Even just two weeks ago, Y/N would have rather worked with notoriously difficult Chhurpi cheese than tell Harry that she was jealous. To even allude to the fact that her feelings for him might be beyond what they had started this with.

But tonight, it didn’t feel so hard. It took her a while to spit it out, sure, but she still was able to get there. Part of what encouraged her was the way his hands felt against hers, the expanse of their palms pressed together so warmly that it thaws out her usually cold fingers. Another part was the blatant, and unremitted display of affection he’d doled out to her as soon as he stepped through the threshold of her flat, as if he didn’t peck her face with a hundred kisses, she’d disappear in a puff of smoke. And another – the way he was looking at her. His eyes were softened in a way she only vaguely recalls after they had sex, when she’s only a couple of minutes from passing out, pressed tightly to his side. 

“When I called you the other night and you were with Youngjae, I was so jealous that I could barely see straight,” he admitted suddenly, honestly, “Surely, you realized that? I threw a fit, practically – covered you in all of those marks. Even before then, when he’d only just complimented your meal, invited you to practice under him, and I was just so mad that he’d asked right in front of me. So I took you home and I fucked you that night. Don’t you remember?” 

Y/N nodded, but still, she considered his words, “I kind of figured. Or, well, at least Niall kind of figured and then told me that you were jealous.” 

“Niall is smarter than he looks.” 

“But I guess I just wondered what it was you even had to be jealous of? I mean, you and YoungJae are kind of carbon copies of each other, only he’s Korean!” 

Harry clicked his tongue, “No,” he disagreed, “That’s not the only difference. He’s more personable, more gentle, he seems sweeter, and more patient. Adam told me you had a dedicated crying corner to go to when I yelled at you. It’s different,” he seemed stressed, remembering it, “He’s different than me, and I figured that you’d go and realize that you could learn with someone nicer, who was attractive, and probably had a crush on you.” 

“A crush on me?” Y/N gaped, then sat up straighter, “What the hell? What made you think that?” 

His eyes go wide, “What, you don’t think he likes you? He looked at you like you’d given him a star or something. It was so irritating.” Y/N couldn’t help it when she snorted, a giggle bubbled from her throat, and she had to slip one of her hands from his to cover her mouth, “Don’t laugh at me.” 

“I’m not!” She bit down on her lip to suppress it, but it still slipped free, “It’s just – Harry, he looks at everyone like that! He even looks at you like that – actually, he looks downright dreamy when he even thinks about you.” 

Y/N has never seen Harry truly, genuinely pout until tonight. His bottom lip jutted out, and he still looked grumpy, but Y/N wanted so badly to slip her hands onto his face and pull him to her mouth. To dig her teeth into his lip and nibble and pull at it until he whines, too. She took his hand again, then chanced pulling his hand up to her face, running her cheek along his knuckles, “You’re just saying that.” He muttered. 

“You’re so silly,” Y/N replied. This is such a refreshing development, she thinks. Never would she have expected this from Harry – this pouting, jealous, slightly insecure version of him that thinks she’d run off with Youngjae because he was nice to her. She doesn’t even have time to consider being mad at Niall for exposing her crying corner to Adam, because all she can think about is how upset Harry seemed that it even had to exist. There was a guilt clear on his features, but whispered between his words. Honestly, Y/N hadn’t even thought about how Harry used to yell at her for a long time. “I’m not just saying it! He didn’t give me any vibes like he might like me.” 

Harry tipped his chin up and looked to the side, and wow, she wondered if she reached out and touched his ear, if it’d feel as hot as it looked, “Well, I don’t know how much I trust your detection skills, if I’m being honest.” He mumbled, “It seems like Niall has to do most of the ground work.” Still, despite a grumbled reply, he flipped his hand around so that he cradled her cheek instead, resting it against his palm. 

This giddy feeling that overruns her is nice. It’s fun – she likes it, after so long of being so upset and confused and distraught. She thinks she’s finally starting to understand, though. . .that she’s finally getting it. What Niall had been seeing this entire time. 

“Harry?” She inquired, and he hummed, eyes following Hazelnut as she sat across from them, and looped her tail around her bottom paws. When she doesn’t say anything to immediately follow it, Harry turned to look at her, his green eyes bright, “If I asked to see you and we didn’t have sex, and we didn’t cook something. . .would you be okay with that?” 

Harry answered without hesitation, “Yes.” 

“And if I. . .if I said that I only wanted you to do stuff like this with me? Sex, and…and seeing each other outside of it?” The nerves almost stop her from saying it, threatening to clog her throat.

“Then I’d tell you that it’s been like that from the start,” he replied again, immediately, “I’d tell you that you’re the only person I want to see. The only one I want to sleep with. The only person I’d like to be with.”

Y/N grinned. She scooted across the sofa to wrap her arms around his shoulders, and Harry slid his arms around her waist. It was warm — Y/N wondered when the last time they hugged like this was. If they’ve ever even hugged like this. There’s so much that they have done together, but still so much they hadn’t, and if this was them opening the door to all of that, she was more than enthusiastic.  

With her chin hooked around his shoulder, Harry’s face is dipped into her throat. He takes a deep breath, then a slow exhale, “This is a lot, for me,” he told her, “I wish that you could just siphon information from my brain instead of me having to say it.” 

“Ah, you might need to get used to saying it, though. I’m kind of dense – Niall says so at least.” 

Somehow, they had ended up in her bed. Nothing crazy, nothing sexual, just the two of them tangled up in each other’s limbs, and for the first time, Harry falls asleep first. He had all but demanded that she let him spoon her, so she didn’t get to look at his face, but with the way his breathing had slowed and how heavy his arm felt around her waist, she knew he was resting. This is a sort of content that she seldom gets to feel and still be all in her head to truly enjoy it. Harry’s body is pressed warm against her back, he sounds sweet with little snores, and Y/N can’t help but melt into him entirely. 

All the vulnerability must have tuckered him right out. Y/N smiled to herself, stretching her arm over his, her hand resting over his hand. Even in his dreams, he raises two fingers for her to curl around. Twists his fingers up in hers.

Her insides feel bright, wicked, an ebullition of colors that rival a supernova. 

                                                          .                              .                             .

The thing is, Y/N feels bad. 

Listen, she knows she shouldn’t! She and Harry have discussed their feelings, and they’ve communicated relatively decently about the entire situation and how to avoid it in the future. Harry only implores her that if she has an issue, she bring it to him directly, no matter how intimidating she might think he is. Whether it be work-related or not, Harry is not the type to let issues fester. He’d like to nip it in the bud immediately, as soon as possible, even if he’s the one who is upset. 

So they’d discussed it, and they’d apologized for the misunderstandings, and it should be in the dust by now. Just something they had learned and grown from – something in the past. 

But Y/N replays how Harry had walked into her flat, how he’d cradled her face, kissed her a thousand times, told her to never completely ice him out again. To never not speak to him, to leave him in the dark, and it’d only been a few days – barely. 

She feels bad, though. He’s told her dozens of times that she shouldn’t feel bad, because it wasn’t her fault – the situation was just an incorrect interpretation of the other’s thoughts and feelings at the time. That he wasn’t upset, to stop apologizing, that if she said sorry to him one more time, he would get upset. 

So she has an idea. And she takes her idea to Niall, because he hadn’t steered her wrong at this point, and he would let her know if it was stupid or not. If she would look ridiculous doing it. If she should just make him a meal or something to quell the ache in her chest. 

“I think this is the best idea you’ve ever had in your life.” Niall answered, his voice lowered while they sat across from each other in a cafe booth. It was a relatively nice day, the weather was beautiful, so they were planning on doing something – what that would be, they weren’t sure, but they started it with lattes and croissants and discussing something that shouldn’t be discussed in public (but what’s new), “Seriously, like – and I just need to take a deep breath because you’re finally listening to me. I don’t know how to tell you this but I bought you a collar like a month ago because I knew you’d pussy out.” 

Y/N’s mouth falls open, jaw loosened, “Ni, you did not!” 

“I did,” he nodded, “I didn’t get the rest of all the things because I didn’t know how you’d feel about it,” he swallowed, then shook his head, “No, I’m lying, I wanted you to fully commit to the bit so I ordered everything. Leash, tail. . .I mean, fuck it, I got ears too.” 

“Niall!” She exclaims, but he pulls his phone from his pocket and quickly drags up the link from an email, “How much was – why am I so shocked?” 

Niall clicked his tongue. “I don’t know why you’re shocked at all, actually, I told you I was going to,” he spun the phone around, sliding it across the table, “S’crazy right? It wasn’t that pricey, consider it a birthday present. So, I’ll kind of guide you through this because I know you’ll get in your head and freak out. I was actually intensely into pet play like three years ago, so this is perfect.” 

That’s how Y/N ended up here, after extensive teachings from Niall, examples, and demonstrations that make her face feel so hot it might melt off. It all led to her inviting Harry over to her flat on their day off, with a medium-sized collar around her throat that had his name stitched into it. A leash was clipped to the metal clasp at the back of it, which she looped around her wrist while she moved around so she didn’t get tangled in it. She had a set of ears clipped in neatly on her head, flopping, similar to her hair color, but stuck out enough that it was clear what they were. The most shocking of all, however, and the most time spent between her and Niall, was him teaching her how to open herself up for a plug. 

He showed her how to on his Fleshlight, which looked like a bum, and he’d promised her he’d cleaned it out before he pulled it out for their “fingering-lesson” as he continued to call it. Y/N thinks that if she had said it was okay, Adam would have been on the phone guiding her as well, but she was feeling way too bashful for that. Hell, even talking about it with Niall was a lot, as he described how much lube, the depth she should start with, how many fingers, but even before that – her diet and how to clean herself out to prepare for it. Y/N doesn’t think she’d ever stared so hard at a fleshlight in her life, as she watched him spread it open, talk about the right and wrong way to do it. 

So, spreading her open, a plug with a tail fixed to the end of it caressed the insides of her thighs every time she moved. It was insane, all of this, but they had talked about it before – briefly. Discussed what they wanted to do, how he wanted her to be a proper puppy, and Y/N wanted that too. She just wishes she could skip to the part where she was so cock dumb and empty-headed that she didn’t feel all the anxious, jittering nerves inside of her. 

Because what if Harry was just saying that as pillow talk? What if he’d just been trying to work her and himself up, but the actual thought of it he didn’t want. Maybe they needed to sit and have a proper chat about it, before she just balls to the wall went all in and dressed like a fucking dog then invited him over to her flat. This is actually insane work, honestly, and yeah Niall is right about most things but he’s also a horny freak who typically has partners equally freaky and horny as him. She doesn’t think he’s ever not thoroughly discussed a scene before he did something new with someone either, so when Y/N had mentioned that they’d spoken about it, he probably thought she’d meant actually discussed it. Like sitting across from each other, going through hard nos, dos, and don’ts, and not when Harry was twisting a hand around his prick, and she was a hairpin trigger away from cumming untouched. 

Y/N has nearly completely talked herself out of it by the time she hears her front door open and completely stills. She was sitting on her bed, feeling stupid, silly, and a ton of other negative adjectives that did not instill any confidence in her before something she probably needed a lot of confidence for. She was trembling, her stomach turning, her heart kind of felt like it might be thudding in her throat, and her blood roared through her ears when Harry called for her. First, just her name. Then, “Baby?” Which is a new development – a welcomed one, but one that gets her all fuzzy inside, no matter how many times he’d begun to casually refer to her as such. 

Eventually, she hears his footsteps get further inside. The floorboards shift at the beginning of her hallway, then again right outside of her door, and his hand presses against the wood as he swings it open quietly. He probably thought she had fallen asleep waiting for him or something, which would explain why he was attempting to be so quiet. Instead, he is met with her, sitting on her knees, her hands were supposed to be in her lap per Niall’s instructions, but instead they were curled up in the blankets at her side. 

Harry’s gaze falls upon hers. He blinks a couple of times, like he might be trying to adjust his eyesight to the lower lighting of the room. Or maybe he’s just trying to make sure that this wasn’t some elaborate hallucination that he’d suddenly uncovered. When he stops blinking, the image of her stops disappearing and reappearing before his eyes, and there she still stays. Did he think this was embarrassing? Maybe he was experiencing the world’s greatest second-hand embarrassment – so bad that they could put it in a world record book. Or maybe he was trying not to laugh at her. She probably looked ridiculous, didn’t she? She’d barely looked herself in the mirror once she put the ears in – just enough to make sure they were level with one another before she fucked off into the bedroom. There’s no bra, there’s no underwear – she’s stark naked, just sitting, waiting, like a dog would. Like a puppy. 

“Ohhhh, I see,” his voice is careful, as he takes a step forward, “My baby isn’t here, hm? I just have a sweet little puppy instead.” 

Y/N swallows hard, dipping her head down and lowering her front half against the mattress. When Harry outstretches his hand, she rubs her face into his open palm; her cheek, her nose, her mouth. It felt good, especially when he curled his fingers up in her hair and scratched gently at her hairline, caressing upward through it, to stop at the ears. There’s a soft tug, and her head jerks with it before she settles again, letting his hands explore and move around her new accessories.

It’s when his fingers dance from her head, along her human ears, down to her neck that the pads trace around the collar. He follows the border of it, the threading, slips two fingers between her throat and the leather. It’s tight–not so tight that it’ll choke her, but it’s definitely a weighty presence–one that’s hard to ignore.  That must be when he sees it, though, as he strips around the material, because he pauses, he reads, his breathing hitches, and – 

– he moans. Something loud, a little whiny, erupting from the back of his throat. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles out, dragging his thumb along the embroidery, “Oh my fucking god.” YN lets him continue to pet her but shifts forward, nudging the back of her head against his hand. He slides his fingers to the front of the collar again, twists the thin leash around his knuckles, and gives a soft, gentle tug, “C’mon, you know better. No puppies on the bed.” He helps guide her down, on hands and knees, carefully dismounting from the mattress in the most awkward, limb-filled way she could have. Eventually, she is on the floor, the carpet digging into her nails and into her knees, her face flaming hot when she rubs her cheek against his calf, which may be more of a kitten thing than a dog thing. Niall told her that it could be interchangeable a bit, because typically, all the non-geared-up person in the dynamic cared about was that the other person was giving in to base desires and acting like an animal. 

From this angle, he must be able to see the tail because another murmured curse slips from his mouth, before she feels the same gentle, prodding fingers that usually nudge at her lips, move around her bum. The rim is stretched and messy with lube, so when Harry carefully pushes into it, Y/N whines and lurches forward. Her skin is sensitive, where it’s soft and slick, and he goes from moving around the plug to letting his fingers drag through the tail, “Such a filthy fucking thing. Where did you even get toys like this?” 

Y/N doesn’t answer, because she’s a dog and dogs don’t speak. She does shake her bum, though, move her hips from side to side so the tail swings and tickles the back of her thighs. It’s humiliating in a way that she can’t describe but the way Harry is looking at her, the heat that flurries through his gaze, the lump in his trousers where his cock is pressing up against the zipper. It’s worth it. It’s well worth the way part of her wants to crawl her way right under the bed and not let him pull her out until science can figure out a way to wipe her memory clean. 

But it also feels. . .good. Kind of, she doesn’t know – she needs to stay like this for a little longer. To really get the feel for it. Really see how deep into puppy space she could get. 

Y/N, let’s Harry guide her out of the bedroom. He leads her carefully, doesn’t tug or pull, and Y/N appreciates it. Since they weren’t able to sit down and discuss every avenue of this, she could tell that Harry was approaching it cautiously. He doesn’t just automatically start tugging her around because he doesn’t know that she’s okay with that yet. Doesn’t start spanking her and fucking her with her plug because he doesn’t know that she’d like that. Doesn’t shove her nose into his crotch and make her mouth at him wetly, because he has no clue that the thought makes her want to start drooling. 

He guides her to the sofa, and when he sits down, Y/N sits pretty beside his feet. Harry pets her head like she really is a puppy, cooing at her sweetly, “Such a good girl,” he murmured, his hand sliding down to her jaw, his fingers caressing her skin, “Knows exactly how to be a good puppy already, don’t you? Might not even have to train you.” He hums, “But if my puppy wants to stop this at any time, all she has to say is Duck, okay? And if you can’t talk, then just squeeze my hand three times.” 

Y/N nods and shudders, dips her face against his knee, and nudges against him. Harry chuckles, grabs a pillow off her couch, and sets it on the floor between his spread feet. Once again, he gives the leash a little pull and coaxes her with sweet words, “Knees on the pillow, Pup. Why don’t you rest your head on my thigh for a little bit?” 

That’s easy enough, Y/N could do that. Niall had told her the brunt of this – what makes this all so sexy – is the complete control that Harry would have over her. If he told her to bark, then bark, if he wanted her to pant with her tongue hanging out and drool all over his cock, then she’d do it. Of course, she doesn’t think they’d get too intense tonight, because Harry is – above all else – a good, dominant partner in the dynamic. He knows when to lead and when to step back, how far to take it, and what to relax with. 

So she trusts him implicitly. Even more so when his fingers press against her lips, Y/N opens them eagerly so that he can feed them into her mouth. She sucks on them, licks around his knuckles and sighs contently – it’d been a while since he’d had his fingers in her mouth like this. Y/N forgot how much she liked it; the weight of his fingers against her tongue, the scrape of her teeth along his nails, the salty taste of his skin. She likes how full she felt with only two of them in there. Even more than that, she likes that two of her holes were plugged, and wondered how it might feel to have all three of them. The thought alone makes her shiver. 

They stay like this for a while. Harry turns the telly onto something, but she can’t tell if he’s really paying attention or not. Just feels him stroke the top of her head, fuck his fingers inside of her mouth every so often, stretch them against the inside of her cheeks. It’s mind-numbing in a good way, lulling her somewhere else–somewhere sweeter and softer, as the insides of her legs get sticky from how much she’s leaking down between them. Y/N had been good at first, perfectly still just sucking on his fingers, but she starts to wriggle more. Adjusting her hips, pawing at his calves as she slowly began to get restless. 

Y/N doesn’t realize she’s whining until she feels her throat vibrate with it, and Harry clicks his tongue softly, “What is it, puppy?” He inquired, and Y/N’s brain is full of cotton and clouds when she looks up at him. There’s drool building up at the corner of her mouth, dribbling out of the sides that Harry drags away with his thumb, “Hm? Are you feeling needy?” He pressed down on her tongue before slipping his fingers out of her mouth entirely. Y/N whines, chasing after them, but he uses his grip on the leash to keep her in place, “You can talk, Honey. Can my dumb puppy speak?” 

She opens her mouth, “Please,” her voice sounds wrecked already, “Please, I want – I need it, daddy.” 

There’s a flash in his eyes that has her clench around the plug, only making her more painfully aware of how empty her pussy was. “Yeah, you need it?” Harry repeated, biting down hard enough on his lip that the flesh blanched around the indents of his teeth. She swears she saw his cock twitch in his bottoms, which were doing very little to hide how worked up he was. “Okay, baby, show daddy how much you need it, hm?” But when Y/N starts to lift her hands toward his thighs, Harry grabs for both of them, curling his fingers around each one, “Mm, no, no, Sweetheart. Remember, puppies don’t use their hands.” 

Y/N nods, swallowing hard, not even worried about it. She could do it without her hands – she didn’t need them. All she needed to do was stretch forward and rub her face into his crotch, which should be more embarrassing than it feels right now. The way she buries her nose against him, breathing in deep, mewling when the pure scent of Harry slithers through her. Her mouth is wide open, tongue pressed out against the fabric of his thin linen trousers – the lavender ones that she was fond of – and soaking it around his cock. How he’d had it trapped against his body had made it hard at first, but the harder he got, the easier it was for her to find the head, to lull her tongue around it. She whimpers, brows curling, lips pursing at the tip and suckling through the fabric like it was all she knew how to do. 

Her hands are slid beneath the sofa cushion, so she really wouldn’t use them, but her neck and jaw start getting a little tired from how she has to move without any support. Harry must be able to tell because he tucks his fingers around the back of the collar where it lay against her nape and pulls her away. He laughs when she whines at him, her tongue hanging from her mouth, drool spilling from her, “Wow,” he murmured, “I thought it might take a bit more to get you into a sweet little spot like this, but I forgot how easy you were for it, hm? You trust me, baby?” Y/N nodded – she trusted him more than anything, “Yeah? G’na let me make you feel good?” 

Again, she nods, leaning forward when he slackens his grip and runs her tongue over his cock several times, in wet, long strokes. The fabric’s taste isn’t what she wants, though, and Harry lifts his hips and pushes the bottoms down so that his cock is out. 

He’s hard. The tip is red, leaking already, and it sways a little with the motion of him pulling it free. Y/N barely waits for permission to get her mouth on him, and while she thinks on a different day, when Harry was more prepared for a scene like this – he might have scolded her. Instead, today, he just lets her do what she wants. Laughs through his nose and strokes the side of her head as she mouths out at his cock, which feels bigger right now for some reason, than it usually does. Especially when she can’t use her hands to help guide it, she just has to part her lips and chase after it. She thinks she probably looks dumb, but she doesn’t care. She wants him in her mouth – needs it, actually.  

“Ah, maybe I will have to train a greedy puppy like you after all,” he hums thoughtfully as she slurps around his cock, taking him deep, deep, deep until it touches the back of her throat and it convulses around the intrusion. Y/N slips off, takes barely a breath to compose herself, then goes right back in, “But it’s your first time being my puppy for real, isn’t it? I’ll be more lenient now than I will in the future,” he murmurs and it sounds a little like a warning, when she drools over his cock, down to his balls, lapping at them. He groans, wanton and loud, needy as she was, “God – fuck, c’mon, g’na take care of you. Bet that pussy is so messy, isn’t it baby?” 

There’s some maneuvering involved, but Harry ends up on the floor with her, slipping out of his trousers the rest of the way. When he pulls his top over his head and tosses it to the side, Y/N reaches out for it, grabs for it – she doesn’t know why, but she wants it near her, kind of. Lays it next to her head so she could smell him some more, and if she were more in her head, then she’d realize how very omega-like of her this was, and how prideful Niall would be if he realized she’d done this. But she’s nowhere near that level of conscious thought right now. She’s swimming somewhere so beautiful and brainless that she doesn’t even feel shy to press the fabric to her nose and breathe in deeply. Smell his cologne and his sweat from the day. 

Harry’s cock twitches when he watches her, and he splits her thighs and looks between her legs. She probably is messy right now, lube and her arousal dripping all over the place. Y/N had been worked up after stretching herself open and sliding the plug in, imagining what Harry’s reaction would be to her, and how hard he might fuck her made her touch herself a little bit too. She’d only gotten to two fingers and only did enough to get herself a little more needy, so she feels deprived and restless right now. 

He starts with one fingers, and when her hole sucks him in greedily, he gives her two, right down to the knuckle, “Always so ready for it. Slutty fucking pussy,” he is tentative as he preps her, and with the plug in her bum, it somehow feels more intense. There’s more pressure everywhere, so much so that three of his fingers feel like four, and four of his fingers feel like five. Still, Y/N moans, keens, whines, whimpers – does every sound but bark for him – as he splits her open. It’s so good, she feels so fucking good right now, but all she wants is his cock. Wants him to fill her up and fuck her dumb, even stupider than she is right now. Wants to drool, wants him to fuck her hard and deep, and split around him, and feel the head nudge against her g-spot. She wants to squirt on him and get him messy. She wants him to keep going even when she’s too sensitive and is wiggling away, she wants him to drag her right back to him. 

Y/N starts fucking her hips down into him, her arms slung beneath her knees to keep them spread but her hips moving tirelessly. Harry places a hand on her thigh, fingers stretched wide, but he doesn’t stop her from moving. He almost seems amused by it, above anything else, his eyes watching closely, his lips curled into a smile, cooing little encouragement like, “Yeah, there we go, baby, that feels good, doesn’t it?” She nods helplessly, and he curls his fingers relentlessly as her legs tremble, getting tired, “Why don’t I give you something a little bigger, hm?” 

This time, she nods as enthusiastically as she can. As soon as his fingers slip from her, she rolls onto her belly unprompted, lifts herself onto her knees, and presents herself for him. Years of omegaverse lore aid her subconsciously as she rests herself on her shoulders, reaching back and pulling herself apart to show him where she’s wet and needy for him. Nobody can ever resist that, and at the end of the day, Harry is only a man. He makes a sound kind of close to a growl behind her, cursing beneath his breath when his left hand covers hers to keep her steady, and his right hand guides his prick to her hole. Even though they both knew she was more than ready enough, Harry is still slow about sliding into her. Makes sure she feels every single inch that slides inside of her, stretches her out further. Y/N wonders if it feels tighter because of the plug inside of her. Harry does show an interest in the tail, smoothing it out of his way so that he could look at her again, where she’s stretched taut around the plug. 

“Can’t stop thinking about you getting ready for me,” Harry grinds inside of her deep, and Y/N cries out, her fingers digging deeper into her flesh, “How did I find such a naughty, greedy puppy, hm? Fuck, you were made for this,” he prods at the skin around the plug, threatens to dip his thumb in too as his he slowly starts to build up a rhythm. Y/N wishes she could see him – even if she craned her neck, it would do the view no justice. She wants to watch him from the side, from the back, from between her legs – wants to see how big his cock is, how far it stretches her, how his balls slap against her with every stroke he bottoms out in. 

She can feel herself drooling, and later on, she would cringe about it, and how it smears against her cheek while her face rubs against his shirt. Oh! His shirt, she’d forgotten – she slides her hands from holding herself open and curls her arms around his shirt. Presses her nose into it and breathes in so deeply, taking in every lick of Harry’s scent that she can from it. For some reason, it made Harry’s hips stutter behind her, his fingernails digging into her skin as he paused deep inside of her. Y/N whines, and he must be able to feel that she’s going to move her hips again because he tightens his grip, “No, just – fuck, just give me a minute. You almost made me cum.” 

“Want it,” she whines, “Want it, want it, want it –” 

Harry stretches himself across her back, slips his fingers into her mouth, and muffles her mid-beg, “Shh, dumb puppies like you don’t need to talk or think,” he groans as he slides out of her, slowly rolling his hips, wary to start where he left off right away, “God, you love being my little doggy, don’t you? You’re so fucking wet,” Y/N quivers, holding his fingers uselessly in her mouth, unable to suck or lick or bite, just pant and drool around them, “You wanna cum for, Daddy, Sweetheart? Get me all nice and sticky with it?” 

His pace picks up again, the slide of it easier as he makes more space for himself inside of her. It’s much more intense with Harry pressed up against her like this, and it doubles when his fingers slip between her thighs and swirl around the swollen bud of her clit. It flicks beneath his touch, stiff and engorged, and just the press of his index and middle finger pads against it makes her cry out. The ears are flopping against her head with each thrust. Her legs want to close, but there’s no easy way to, and her back arches against him. But her mouth is full, her clit is being played with, the plug still sits inside of her and Harry rocks his hips into her like he’s trying to make sure the shape of him never leaves, hard and deep, an impression of himself in her insides. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” she sounds around his fingers, and it’s muffled, a staccato sound with every collision of their hips together. Words escape her; she just feels, and she feels everything so intensely right now. 

Her whole body shakes when she cums. It starts with her thighs, shaking hard, making the rest of her legs tremble, and the heat of her arousal swells into a tight balloon that expands rapidly, the latex filling out until it pops, and the warm wave of water that was inside of it flows through her. Washes over her whole body as she pulsates around him, milking him, and Harry fucks her through it, despite how difficult it gets when she squeezes so tightly around him, “Yeah, that’s it, that’s my girl,” he murmured, “I’m not g’na stop, baby, not unless you say your special word.” 

Duck, Y/N remembers, or to squeeze his hand three times. Both are far away from her now though, even as she comes down from her first orgasm, she feels oversensitive as he fucks into her but not in the way where she’d need to shove him off. So she starts working her hips back against him again and Harry curses beneath his breath, then starts fucking her earnestly again. 

She’s unsure for how long it goes on, or how many times she cums. She just knew that around her fourth orgasm, Harry had flipped her around so that she was facing him and had pulled her nipple into his mouth. And she knew that he had started fucking the plug in and out of her bum too, and Y/N felt a bubble in her belly that popped, forcing Harry out of her body when a swell of liquid followed his cock’s exit. He’s made her squirt before, and Y/N had wondered if it was just a one-and-done type of thing, but clearly not. It’s fully within his capability to do it, and leave her breathless, shaking, gasping. 

This time, Harry isn’t able to slip back into her. He peels the condom off, slips his hand through the mess of her pussy and uses that as lube to fuck himself with. Y/N watches through lidded eyes as he strokes his cock, “Yes, yes, such a messy fucking puppy, so perfect for me,” he rambles, “So good, and fucking perfect, made for me, shit – only me,” before he starts to cum, all over her belly, in thick spurts that land heavy on the skin. Some of it even reaches her neck, and the knowledge of it makes her open her mouth, let her tongue hang out in hopes of catching more of it. None comes organically like that, but Harry does smear his fingers through the mess on her belly and feeds it into her mouth. Y/N licks it away, the taste heady and Harry, and so good because of it. 

Y/N can barely move. Her muscles are kind of achy, and her head is so feather-filled she might as well be a pillow. Harry, above anything else, drops to her side and pulls her into his body, not caring about the sticky, drying cum on her skin when he pulls her into him. Rolls her over and maneuvers her limbs until she’s lying on top of him, running one of his hands up and down her back, “That was so beautiful, baby,” he says it so gently, Y/N almost wants to cry for some reason. She feels emotional and exhausted and like, maybe in love, a little bit, she doesn’t know – maybe it was just post-orgasm endorphins or maybe Harry was actually her soulmate, who could tell right then. “Did so well for me, for your first time. So perfect.” 

As he is with all things, Harry is more than careful as he removes the floppy ear clips from her hair, unbuckles the collar, and slowly slips the plug out of her bum. For a moment, one of his fingers does slide around into the little gape that was left, and when she twitches and whines, he kisses the side of her head, “Sorry, Honey, couldn’t help myself,” before slipping it away, “We’ll have to play with that pretty hole too, it was getting jealous.” Y/N manages a laugh, though it’s just breathless and soundless enough to sound like a puff of air through her nose. 

They stay there for a while, until Y/N feels like she can move, but even then, words haven’t come back to her yet. This was the deepest into subspace she thinks she’s ever been, but she isn’t scared of it. Y/N revels in it. With Harry there, she feels safe, and cared for, like she doesn’t need to worry about a thing at all. And she’s right, because he takes her to the shower with him and they get clean together. Harry wipes her down first, tenderly, slowly, and goes quickly for himself so that she isn’t standing there for too long. He coaxes water into her, too, at least half a bottle until she’s pulling her face away. Eventually, they find themselves in her bed, Y/N in a big shirt, her favorite band’s last album cover on the front, and Harry in one of her big shirts with a bunny on the front. He slid her underwear onto her, tucked them nicely around her hips, and then brought her up under the covers. Harry rubs her elbows and knees for a little bit, where they were rubbing against the carpet kind of hurt, and the skin was irritated. He pushes kisses to all the spots that seemed sore. 

“I liked that,” she finally spoke, after what might have been 20 to 30 minutes of silence. Harry doesn’t seem startled, and she wonders if it usually took her a while to start talking anyway, “A lot.” 

“Me too, Sweetheart. You play the role of a greedy puppy very well,” he rubs up and down her arm, where it’s stretched across his chest, “And you were very cute. I’ll probably touch myself to that for weeks.” 

Y/N makes a noise in her throat and tips her face into his chest, “Shut up,” she grumbles, then continues, “I – um – like you a lot,” she sighed out, her lips rewarming, preparing for a ramble that she just knew was going to happen soon. Not that she had anything in particular to ramble about, except the fact that she’d seen a really pretty garden today, before she’d puppy-fied herself. 

Harry, who had begun to play with her fingers, seemed delighted. “Is that so? That’s convenient, because I like you too.” 

“Yeah, and we should probably plant a garden together,” she rumples her lips, “But neither of us has any yard to plant a garden, so we’d have to steal someone’s yard or something. Or buy like a little patch of dirt on someone’s property. Do you know anyone who has a yard?” 

“I’m sure I could find someone,” he replies, amused, “You like gardening?” 

“I’m so bad at it, actually, but you seem like you’d be good at it, so that’s why we should plant together. Are you good at planting?” Y/N feels him nuzzle his nose against her temple, “I feel like you’re good at everything.” 

Harry hums, “No, m’not,” he murmured, “I’m actually not great at folding laundry.” 

“Really?” She tilted her head to look at him, “Like – how?” 

He shrugged, “Dunno, it always looks messy though. You haven’t seen my drawers?” 

“No, was I supposed to see them? Should I be looking through your drawers?” 

“If you wanted to, you could,” he offered, then immediately took it back, “Actually, no, I want you to pretend I’m good at everything still, I don’t need you to see my folding.” 

Y/N laughed, then nestled close to him again, “You’re silly,” she murmurs, sighing again, letting sleep weigh heavy in her bones, “I’m glad I was delusional enough to think that you were obsessed with me.” 

Harry squeezes her close. 

“It’s not delusional if it’s true.” 

[spaceyaemonds]

If this fic took place before the show it so would be the interns being like "oh who's she?"

Like she brings the baby for a ear infection or something at the end of abbots shift and the interns are like "aww is that grand baby abbot"

Until the baby goes "dada" at jack and then they all start doing math 😭

hi friend!!!

ahhhhh!!! okay okay a small little drabble under the cut!! also, I gave baby girl a name, but she will mostly be referred to as bug!

Your poor girl is crying her little eyes out as Dr. King and the guy who introduced himself as “just Whitaker” attempt to assess her.

It’s just an ear infection, you know it’s just an ear infection. But your poor baby is screaming her little lungs out and it’s just breaking your heart.

You should have called Jack. You should have called him the second her temp spiked back up even a little.

Honestly, you’re surprised he isn’t in here yet, or that Perlah or Dana haven’t come by to see her.

Dr. King finally takes pity on the four of you and hands her back, “I think you’re right, it does appear to just be an ear infection, but I’d like to have a senior resident or one of our attendings look her over, just to be safe,”

You nod, gently shushing your girl as she clings to your neck, cries finally quieting down.

“Whitaker, I’m going to try to go find Dr. Robby or Collins, can you wait here with them?”

Whitaker knows she isn’t really asking, but glances awkwardly in your direction before nodding, “I’ll make sure that her chart gets updated,”

Dr. King quickly leaves the room, and Whitaker pulls her chart back up on the tablet.

“Why are you not called Dr. Whitaker?”

He glances back up at you, smiling softly, “Well, I’m still just a med student, I haven’t, uh, earned the title yet,”

You nod, not fully understanding but smiling back at him nonetheless as he goes through her chart.

“Layne Abbot? Are you two related to Dr. Abbot?” His eyebrows raise up at you in question, and you bite your lip to hide the smirk creeping up.

“Something like that,”

Whitaker smiles again slightly, “Should I go get him? I’m sure he’ll want to know that his granddaughter is here,”

He says the worst thing at the absolute worst time.

Jack saw Layne’s name on the board while leaving trauma one, and wasted no time getting to the room the two of you were in, ready to question why the fuck you didn’t call him, when instead he hears Whitaker calling his daughter his granddaughter.

Bug must sense him, or hears the scoff he lets out when he hears the garbage that leave Whitaker’s mouth, because her eyes instantly find his.

And because as much as she loves her mommy, nothing compares to her daddy, those pretty eyes that mirror yours have tears welling right back up in them, and a small whimper of “daddy,” quickly leaves her mouth.

Whitaker thinks he wants to die as he watches the attending that typically works night shifts quickly but gently take the baby from you.

He looks between the two of you, face flushing as he tries to stammer something, anything out.

“Whitaker.”

“Yes, Dr. Abbot?” He winces at the way his voice sounds.

“Go find Robby and tell him my kid has an ear infection,” Jack doesn’t leave room for argument, not that Whitaker would in the current moment.

Whitaker quickly takes his leave, and Jack turns to you instantly, “Honey, why didn’t you call?”

You frown, brave face finally leaving you as tears well up in your own eyes, “She wouldn’t stop crying, and I got really scared when her fever came up again. I didn’t want to waste time calling and rushed here. I didn’t think it would take that long for you to realize we were here and then she wouldn’t stop crying in here,”

Jack takes his free hand and runs it through your hair, “You’re okay, honey. It’s okay,”

Looking down at his other girl, he kisses the side of her head, “You’re okay too, baby,”

Dr. King comes back in a minute later with Dr. Robby and Dr. Santos trailing behind her, stopping mid step once she sees you clinging to Jack’s left side and your daughter clinging to his right.

Santos’ own eyes widen slightly, looking to Dr. King for an answer.

“Ma’am, I didn’t realize you know Dr. Abbot,”

Robby steps around the two of them, “If the last name of our patient didn’t give it away, the listed father on her medical chart should have, Dr. King,”

[jungwnies]

in your own lane | lando norris

୨ৎ : featuring : lando norris x equestrian!reader ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by @sonichkkaaascreams) : when you're never seen at lando’s races, people start to question your commitment. what they don’t see is that you're winning grand prixs of your own — just on horseback. while rumors swirl, lando defends the love no one else fully understands: two athletes, two worlds, one unshakable team.

୨ৎ : genre : romance ୨ৎ : word count : 717

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : this was such a lovely request, love architects and everything domestic

the whispers always came in waves.

sometimes, they were subtle. a side glance in the paddock. a harmless comment during a podcast. other times, it was louder. headlines in bold. “where is she? norris’ girlfriend absent again.”

it didn’t matter that you were halfway across the world, riding a 1.60m course in stuttgart while lando was racing in monza. it didn’t matter that both your schedules were booked to the hour. all anyone ever saw was absence.

you weren’t there.

and somehow, not being there translated to not caring.

you tried to laugh it off the first few times. “let them talk,” you told lando over facetime, helmet hair tucked messily into a braid, your horse munching hay in the background.

he didn’t laugh. “i hate that they don’t get it.”

“you don’t have to defend me,” you’d said, gently. “i know what we have. i’m not in this to prove anything to anyone.”

but it wore on you sometimes, in the quiet in-between moments. when you were icing your shoulder in the hotel room after a fall, and your phone buzzed with lando’s podium photo and a comment: “wish she cared enough to show up.” or when you saw another wag post a picture in the paddock with the caption “always supporting.”

you supported too. just from a different kind of saddle.

monza came and went without you again.

you had a nations cup qualifier the same weekend. there was no possible way to be in two places at once. not when your horse needed you, your team was counting on you, and this was your chance at olympic points.

but the questions kept coming.

the latest one was from a journalist who leaned forward like he was about to drop a bomb.

“she’s never around,” he said, his voice too casual, too smug. “are you sure she’s really invested in this relationship?”

the room went quiet.

lando blinked once. tilted his head. let out a soft laugh, but there was no warmth in it. “are you serious?”

the reporter froze. the air shifted.

“she’s probably winning a grand prix of her own right now. i don’t need her front row at mine to know how serious we are.”

“but doesn’t it bother you?” the reporter asked. “that she doesn’t come to your races?”

lando leaned forward.

“no. because i actually respect what she does. she’s a professional athlete. she has a full season, a whole circuit. and while people are wondering why she’s not at my side, she’s out there, fighting for her own podiums.”

there was a beat of silence.

“she’s not just my girlfriend. she’s her own person. she’s got her own goals. and i’m proud of her for chasing them.”

later that night, his phone buzzed with a voicemail.

you sounded breathless, wind in the mic, the unmistakable squeak of your saddle as you dismounted.

“knocked a rail but still went clear in the jump-off. placed top five. wish you were here, but i know you killed it too. love you. call when you can.”

he smiled down at the phone like it was you.

when you finally saw him again, it was during the rare off-weekend.

both your schedules lined up, and you met in monaco—his place, your quiet sanctuary.

you didn’t even get through the door before he pulled you into his arms.

“missed you,” he mumbled into your neck.

“i saw the clip,” you said softly. “what you said to that reporter.”

he shrugged. “it was nothing.”

“it meant everything,” you whispered.

you sat on the couch, legs tangled, both of you scrolling on your phones.

you were trending together now, side by side on social media: ‘she can’t watch my gps when she’s busy winning her own.’ ‘lando norris claps back at misogyny in the paddock.’

you showed him a photo from your last show: you in your navy jacket, horse mid-air, muscles taut, your form perfect.

he grinned. “god, you’re hot when you’re flying.”

you snorted. “you’re ridiculous.”

“maybe,” he said, tugging you closer, “but you're mine. and no matter where you are, i feel you with me.”

you kissed him then, slow and soft and certain.

you may not always be in the same place, but your hearts? same team. same race. same finish line.

always.

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[gojosatoruhumper]

Don’t leave me behind | Yeon Si-eun x reader

Summary: what if Y/n was the one that got hit by the truck instead of Si-eun?

Warnings: kind of angsty, comforting fluff

WC:1.7k

Notes: I think it is a little rushed, but I already got a better idea in mind, ill try to upload it as soon as I can

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You and Yeon Si-eun have been friends for a little while now. You are Su-ho’s sister, always been close with him. Although you were only a year younger than them, Su-ho always tagged you along with Si-eun and Beom-seok.

You were shy around them at first but grew close to them, especially Si-eun. You could see right through him - he really needed a hug and someone that cares about him.

Su-ho would always tease Si-eun about you, telling him to not hurt you and always take care of you, even calling him brother in law to piss him off even further.

At first he hated the constant teasing, but soon realised maybe he did care a lot more about you than he should have.

At first it started with lingering stares that lasted a little too long, then studying sessions with him when you couldn’t understand certain subjects because Su-ho wouldn’t been much help.

He didn’t show it directly but he really did like helping you, quiet time together and you two being so close together when he explained the questions.

Sometimes when his dad wasn’t home you would cook him food as a thank you, inviting Su-ho from time to time.

And sometimes when he was focused on his own work he would suddenly hear your breathing change - you would fall asleep. At moments like these he would gently tuck you into his own bed, texting your brother you fell asleep and would be staying the night. He wouldn’t admit it to himself, but he would definitely crack a smile at the sight of you, peacefully sleeping in his bed.

You always felt bad when you would wake up in his comfy and warm bed while he slept on the couch.

You would always scold them for getting into fights, helping them with the wounds, cuts and bruises. You would always feel sorry for them. But never Beom-seok. As well as you could see right through Si-eun, you always had a gut feeling Beom-seok wasn’t as nice.

And after the incident, you broke. After you heard what happened to Su-ho you ran straight to the hospital.

You opened the door, tears already falling down your cheeks. Si-eun was already sitting there, you could see how broken he was.

He almost thought you were gonna be mad at him, for not coming to him in time. But how could you be mad at him?

He stood up, now fully facing you as you walked over to him, sobbing.

“Y/n” he said just above a whisper “I’m sorry” he felt his eyes watering, a hot tear streaming down his cheek.

You looked up at him, “Si-eun why are you sorry?” “None of this is your fault” you continued crying, suddenly feeling warm hands around you. “He’s going to be okay” he tried to reassure you, not even sure himself if his friend will really be okay.

You both stayed the night at the hospital, you falling asleep on Si-eun, staining his shirt with your tears. He woke up before you, slowly getting up and putting his blazer on you. Even with your eyes closed he could see how swollen and puffy they were from crying.

As he stood beside you, he gently brushed your hair out of your face with his delicate fingers, observing you. He always has been an observer.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

And well after him beating up Woo-young and Beom-seok, he needed to move to Eunjang high school. In his mind he did that for Su-ho and you. You cried in his arms once again. And he let you.

Eunjang was further away from your current school, which is closer to Si-eun’s old one. But that didn’t stop you from visiting him as often as you could. Sometimes even taking a taxi to his home late at night when he couldn’t fall asleep.

The sleeping pills didn’t work, but you sleeping next to him did. You started seeing him more than a friend a while ago, but never saying anything since you didn’t want to ruin the friendship you had.

You could see that Si-eun was still having a hard time in school, getting into fights again. You would always patch him up, like you used to.

His mom didn’t mind having you around, she could see you had a good impact on her son. When Si-eun’s friends spotted you two together walking home, the teasing started all over again.

Si-eun never stopped blaming himself for what happened, but you always reassured him it was most certainly not his fault.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

It was late already and you were heading home, worried about Si-eun. He told you what has been happening in school and it made you so anxious. You felt your phone buzz, picking it up.

“Hello, is this Y/n, Ahn Su-ho’s sister?” you were confused for a second. “Yes?” you answered, eager to get home faster so you could go check up on Si-eun.

“Im calling from Sungang University hospital, i couldn’t reach anyone else but you, your brother is in critical condition, is there anyone who could come right away?” You stood in the middle of the crosswalk, frozen.

You felt tears swelling up “..huh?” you said, still frozen in shock as you look up to a truck driving. Everything went black.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Si-eun got the heart wrenching phone call. You were in the hospital, Su-ho in critical condition. He dropped everything he was doing, not waisting any time, running as fast as his legs could go. He couldn’t lose you as well. He wouldn’t ever forgive himself.

As he stepped into your room, machines connected to your body, he was fuming with anger. Angry with himself, if he was there, with you this wouldn’t have happened.

He checked up on you and Su-ho, and finding out Su-ho was doing better he went back to your room. He stayed there by your side till morning, falling asleep to the beeping sounds.

You were moved to another room in the morning, only an oxygen mask and a heart monitor connected now. Hu-min, Hyun-tak, Jun-tae as well as your grandmother came in to check on you during the day. Si-eun needed to go back to deal with Beak-jin but he couldn’t bring himself to leave you like this.

The sun started to go down and he was still worried as ever. His eyes were on you, all day and night.

He was now alone with his thoughts, thinking about all the times you were there for him. He couldn’t thank you enough for that. He felt guilty for putting you through so much worry, you always checking up on him, always coming over to cheer him up the best you could.

He felt you shift on the bed, hand reaching for the mask on your face, trying to take it off. Your eyes landed on Si-eun, not even thinking you started smiling to yourself, he really cares about you, doesn’t he? He stood up.

Suddenly your smile dropped as a sat up, stinging pain appearing in your head. You whined at the pain. “Y/n, lay down” he said, but you didn’t move. “Is he okay..?” you asked with furred eyebrows, eyes looking at Si-eun with concern. “He’s okay now, don’t worry” he somewhat smiled at you.

You loved it when he smiled at you, it showed how he cared about you. And right now he looked so cute with messy hair, standing and looking at you.

But suddenly you can see tears prickling at the corner of his eyes as he watched you. “huh, Si-eun is everything okay?” you asked. “Y/n I can’t lose you, not after what happened to Su-ho” he sat down, looking at your expression.

You didn’t want him to worry about you, he already worried about enough things, you couldn’t make it even harder for him than it already is.

“Si-eun” you spoke, throat dry. “Hm?” he replied, raising and eyebrow. “Come here” you said, moving more to the edge so there was somewhat space in this small bed.

He stood there for a second. “I said come here, please?” you asked. He slowly got in bed with you, looking at your delicate face. “Si-eun I’m fine, nothing will happen to me” you explained, knowing he probably was blaming himself for what happened to you.

Your faces so close you could hear his light breathing. You reached your hand to his face, brushing his bangs from his eyes. “Si-eun did you know how pretty you are” you say, barely awake, whole body aching, your hand going back to your side.

He stiffened in shock, not knowing what to do, he never really knew what to say in situations like these. He didn’t know what to say, but he knew what to do. His hand was on your cheek, caressing it, slowly bringing his face to yours, just millimetres away.

Your heart was beating now faster, the beeping on the screen going faster, making you a bit embarrassed. He closed the gap, his chapped lips coming in contact with yours.

You both broke the kiss, him surprised at his actions. You smiled at him, bringing him closer, hugging him and resting your head on his chest. “Can you please stay with me for tonight?” you asked, now eyes closed.

He relaxed a bit, not replying. “Y/n..” he said, looking up at the ceiling, bringing his hand over your torso, hugging you lightly. “Hm?” you hummed, listening to his heart beat.

“I think.. I think I’m in love with you” he said, cracking the smallest smile, you couldn’t see it, but you could tell by the way he said it.

You stiffened up, but relaxing seconds later, hugging him harder. “I love you too, Si-eun” you replied, almost in a whisper. “Please never scare me like this again” he asked, closing his eyes and bringing you even closer to him, hugging you harder, like he never wanted to let go and protect you from all the horrors in this world.