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darkacademicvibes · 2 months ago

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Kiss It Better?

Theodore Nott x Fem!Slytherin Reader

CW: Blood is kind of vividly described, slightly obsessed/dirty minded Theo

Theo entered the Great Hall grumbling.

He sat down grumbling.

And he glared at his utensils grumbling.

You share a look with Pansy, curious and amused, "Theo? What s'a matter?" you ask, leaning in to speak quietly.

The smooth, albeit grumpy italian falling from his lips trails into silence as he glances at your shared friends, unsure whether or not he was willing to tell you - and realistically speaking, the others - about the frankly humiliating situation that had him in such a foul mood.

He knew he was probably being dramatic, but he'd never fucked up like he had this time, and a part of him was deeply - though probably unreasonably -embarassed."Tell you later" he mumbles, his right hand picking up his fork as he stabs at the beans on his plate.

He ignores the questioning looks of the others, the stinging, and most of the loud conversations in the great hall as he keeps his left hand firmly beneath the table, wiping blood on the low hem of his white uniform shirt. He'd never cared much for it anyway, this way he had a reason to wear something other than the stuffy hogwarts shirts in the hot classrooms.

So perhaps there was somewhat of a silverlining to the situation he found himself in.

Eventually, students begin to trickle out of the Great Hall and towards their prefect or head duties, or their common rooms - You and Theodore amongst them - he hesitates as you both enter the slytherin common room, gently grasping your wrist and leading you up to your own dorm. Your first aid kit never stung as much as his, perhaps because you got the good products, and none of them were expired, which he wasn't particularly aching to hear about the riviting affects of not taking proper care of his bumps and scrapes for a third time this month.

He also really didn't want you questioning the flowers tossed (delicately placed) alongside the thin drips of red against his green covers.

"Theo?" you mumble, letting him lead you along as he continues hiding his left hand from your view. He doesn't answer, stopping only to drop your wrist and open your dorm door, you allow him to tug you wordlessly into your dorms bathroom, repating yourself.

"Teddy?"

He groans, reluctantly showing you his hand, blood dripping down his fingertips from the mean cut along the back of his pointer and middle fingers, he'd bled a decent bit, but the drips were more of an occasional trickle of red against his tan skin. "I.. fuck- I got distracted dethorning roses in herbology" he mumbles, refusing to meet your eyes as you guide his fingers over the sink, running a gentle stream of warm water over his bloodied fingers, the watery red dripping down your palm as he watches, something about it making his jaw tick.

"Why were you dethorning roses? I thought you were meant to be trimming venemous tentacula?"

For you.

For your halloween - or, really autumn solstice - ball outfit you'd been mentioning to Pansy that morning at breakfast.

That's exactly what he didn't say.

Couldn't say.

"I did, and then I got bored" he grumbles, itallian accent thick as he winces, watching you clean out the jagged marks along his fingers with your own before gently drying them off. The bleeding has entirely stopped now, but it still stings terribly as you disinfect them, getting ready to place two fresh bandaids over them. He pulls back his hand slightly, and it makes you pause.

"Do you want me to kiss them? So they get better?" you ask quietly, your fingers tacing his palm soothingly.

He swallows the lump in his throat, his baby brown eyes dropping to your lips.

"That works?" he nearly croaks. Fuck - if Mattheo could see him now he'd have a fit. Maybe he'd laugh so hard he'd choke and die so Theo wouldn't have to kill him for it.

You nod softly, gently tugging at his sleeve. "Mhm, my mum used to do it when I was little" you tilt your head.

"Yeah, s'alright then" he grumbles, just trying not to sound like he was about to lose his mind over the fact she was going to fucking kiss it better.

Shit, maybe he should ask Mattheo to punch him in the dick.

You press gentle kisses to both cuts, wrapping bandaids around his fingers after.

"All better" you hum, smiling up at him.

He nods stiffly, his newly fixed up hand tangling into your hair as he guides your head to his chest in a hug. "Thanks, doc, 'nything else I gotta do?" he mumbles, mostly joking. He'd do anything for you, maybe that was a part of the reason he was so fucked in the head, 'cause he couldn't get you out of it.

"Mh, just be careful, Teddy" you huff, and he has to hold back a groan. He had to leave before you called him that again, before you said anything that would make him want to drag you to your bed and make you ruin your sheets.

"I will, I gotta go meet Mattheo, love" he lies through his teeth. He needs a smoke before he goes fucking crazy. He places a lingering kiss to the top of your head before bidding you goodnight and leaving the girls dorms.

There wasn't a lot of things you loved more than your friends, but perhaps the way Theodores low murmur of italian slips through his lips against your forehead could be one of them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He's driving himself fucking mad, the memory of your lips against his ripped open skin replaying in his mind like a fucking charmed camera had snapped in his brain at the perfect moment.

His knee bounces quickly as he sits with Mattheo and Draco, blowing through cigarettes like they're candy straws. You'd given him candy straws once - muggle ones he'd split with you. He'd taken the lemon, cherry, and blue raspberry ones and you'd kept the rest.

"Fucking hell, spit it out- before you drive us up the wall with you" Draco mumbles, flicking his cigarette butt over the side of the astronomy tower, and it makes him glare. You didn't like when people did that, it was why he stopped.

"I can't get her outta my fuckin' head" Theodore breathes, inhaling the poison into his lungs near desperately. Mattheo smirks, distracted by the few people millng about the ground below, "what's new?" he breathes, exhaling the smoke in his own lungs.

Theos knee stops bouncing as a wild, stupid, fucking genious idea slipped into his mind.

"Draco, I need you to do somethin'" Theo sits up, flicking his cigarette onto the floor and stepping on it before exhaling the last of the addictive smoke.

The boy in question groans, "fuckin' depends. what." he snaps, and a cheeky smirk tugs at Theos lips.

"Punch me in the mouth."Mattheo sits up, looking oddly like he'd struck gold as he inhales.

"What the fuck? Why?" Draco scoffs, and Mattheos eyes widen in a near giddy excitment.

"'Cause Theo's a fuckin' freak that knows if he goes to Y/n she'll kiss it all better" Mattheo taunts. Draco raises an amused brow as Theo shrugs noncommitally.

"You sure?" Draco muses, and Theo can only shrug again. Draco and Mattheo share a look and suddenly Mattheo's on his feet, brown eyes wild with excitement.

"How hard?" he grins and Theo follows suit, tugging off his sweater, leaving him in dark jeans and a white t-shirt.

"As long as I bleed, I don't fucking care"

Mattheo cracks his knuckles."How many times?"

"Twice."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The second you saw Theo you were on your feet and practically running to his side, much to his obvious delight as you examine his split lip and the bleeding cut along to bridge of his nose. "Teddy, what happened?" you ask, worried, as your thumb traces the bruising around the cut on his nose.

He tips his head down, pretending that the way he presses his cheek into your palm is an accident as he 'reacts' to the light pressure you're appyling to his (very, very, hurt - if you asked) nose.

His eyes flicker to Mattheo for barely a moment, and he has to bite harshly at his lower lip to keep himself from smirking, the familiar metal taste flooding his tongue.

"Just an argument, ragazza dolce" (sweet girl) he nearly coos the nickname, and you don't know what it means, but it makes you flush a subtle pink nonetheless.

"Can you fix me up, love? Hurts" he grumbles, practically chewwing on his split lower lip as you take his hand. He intertwines your fingers as he lets you lead him up to your bathroom this time.

He leans against the edge of the counter, spreading his legs for you to stand between as you tip his chin down so you can properly fix up his nose.

He waits patiently for you to clean his nose, gluing it up and applying the thin white strips of whatever properly. He never took as much care of himself as you do, that's why he goes to you. He loves how much you care - loves watching the worried way your teeth tug at you own lip whenever he winces. It's never as bad as it looks, not that he'd ever tell you that.

You move to begin on his lip and he leans down slightly, gazing at her warmly, "c'mon love.. not gonna kiss this one better? S'hurting" he mumbles, and you can't help but mumur an apology as his hands find their way around your lower back to press you just slightly closer to his chest as he dips his head to allow you to lightly kiss the cut along his nose.

He knows he's being greedy when his hands fall to the backs of your thighs and knead at the skin as your fingers gently clean his bleeding lip, and when his eyes watch your teeth chewing on your lip he knows asking you to bite his instead would be too much for such a sweet, worried, thing like you.

The last thing he wants is to spook his angel, but when you lift his chin slightly to double-check your work, he can't help the faux-innocent pout on his lips and the pleading gaze he doesn't have to fake.

"Not gonna kiss this one better?" he mumbles, and the butterflies in your stomach melt into a violent stampede urging you to do as he asks, no matter what he wanted.

He hums, leaning close enough for his nose to bump against yours playfully, "s'not gonna heal if you don't, y'know" he teases quietly, and your eyes meet his. They're dark in this lighting, or perhaps it has something to do with the way you could imagine your own skin bruising if he grips your legs any harder.

Something in the chocolate brown softens as you hesitate, and you see your Theodore, the one that listens to what people say and doesn't bother to ask if someone needs help - just doing it for them. Your Theo that has only let you call him teddy for as long as you can remember and who listens to quiet music with you, and doesnt complain when you talk endlessly about whatever had captured your attention that week. Your Theo that stopped smoking in class and throwing his cigarette butts anywhere except into bins, and always let you wear his spare quidditch jersey when the weather is less than stellar, and who was there for you when your ex cheated in fourth year and hasn't let himself leave your side since.

"Please?" he murmurs, and realize that, somehow, you've never been more comfortable with anyone than you are when you're with Theo. He's sweet, and funny, and you've always thought perhaps you could live in the way his clothes smell when you borrow them.

You've always thought of your best friend as safe, the warmth from him when he let his arm rest over the back of your chair, and the way he places his palm against your hip to guide you out of the path of excitable first years or redheads with matches and fireworks nearly tumbling from their pockets.

He feels like he could live forever in the moment your lips brush the dull sting on his, his fingers winding their way into your hair as he kisses you properly, his other hand cupping your cheek so sweetly it makes your knees go weak.

It's unbelieveably soft, nothing like the way he kisses the girls at parties, this kiss is important to him. He wants you to want to kiss him again, so lets himself slow down. It's the first time he's ever cared enough to want to.

His lips trace yours, and a metalic taste seeps into your mouth as you part your lips.

He only kisses you deeper, hating himself for needing to breathe when he pulls away, he could die breathless on your lips and it would be the one thing he'd never regret - not even if he got the chance.

His thumb follows, sweeping over your lips, collecting the messy red he left there and sweetly tracing, rubbing it into your lips like lipstick, his touch never forceful as blood drips down his chin.

He lets you clean him up again in silence, and when you're done for the second time, he smiles down at you, his hands thumbs tracing lines on your hips.

"Hey" you meet his eyes, bright, and so Teddy you almost can't stop yourself from smiling back.

Almost.

You smile at him anyway.

He nearly melts, like he was Draco when Hermione kissed him in sixth year.

Mattheo would laugh at him for this too, but Theo would simply wait until the H/R/S/G Mattheo was scaring himself falling for smiled at him for the first time after their first kiss.

"Are you sure that first 'get better' kiss worked?" he asks, and you know he's asking if you would ever want to kiss him again.

"I don't think so" you whisper, leaning up to gently place a short kiss to his split lip.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's too hot to bother playing quidditch as everyone sits together in the middle of the grassy pitch, nobody had expected for the last day of summer to be this hot - not when it had already started cooling into autumn, but nobody was complaining about the break from winds in corridors just cold enough to make you shiver as it crept up sleeves and skirts and under woolen jumpers.

Theos arm was around your shoulders, unlabed but each others, as he places a flower crown of dried red roses and pressed rosemary leaves into your lap.

"What's this?" you muse, gently picking it up and admiring it, how he'd crafted it was brilliant, a permenant sticking charm keeping the flowers and leaves together on a rose vine.

"That is why I was dethorning roses" he mumbles into your ear, pressing a soft kiss to your temple through your hair.

"For your autumn solstice ball dress" he adds, nuzzling his nose into your cheek to make you laugh.

"Thank you, Teddy" you smile, and he hums, "always, amore" he mumbles, placing his chin on your shoulder. "You'll go with me, won't you? To the dance?" he mumbles.

You smile, "I thought you weren't going?" you tease, and you feel his shoulders move in an unbothered shrug.

"If you're there, I'm there" he grumbles softly.

You might not have been his first anything, but you were the first one that mattered, and that'll never change.

#fem reader #theodore nott #theo nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theo nott x reader #theodore nott imagines #slytherin reader #slytherin boys #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #hogwarts

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notquitecanon · 5 months ago

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some clever sleep pun title // Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Summary: Simon's been spoiled and didn't even realize it. Now his bed isn't as warm as it used to be.

Tw: freak obsessive loser Simon, mentions of sex/boners, sleepy reader, Simon's lowkey manipulative but nothing too insidious.

Two weeks. Simon Riley had been spoiled into two weeks of sharing a bed with you. Sure it hadn't been under the best of circumstances- ratty safe houses with little to no central heating, sleeping bags in camps that weren't safe enough to light fires, catching an hour or so of shut-eye on cargo flights between hot zones. It was a convenience thing, if not a necessity in some cases.

After all, the cold weather gear you'd been issued just simply wasn't up to snuff. And the safe house was cold and damp. The campsites were windy. The flights were drafty and turbulent. And- you were soft and warm and fit right under his chin like you were made to be there. Two weeks of less-than-ideal conditions, and it was the best sleep Simon Riley had in years.

Initially, he hadn't made the connection between you and good sleep. He had assumed it was just the intensity of the mission that had worn him out so much he had no choice but to get good sleep. So, he'd been all too excited to get back home to his own bed, all by himself. Pub dinner, a scalding shower, a proper cuppa, good wank, and his own bed.

For the first hour at least, until no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the sheets to warm up just right. He used to enjoy sprawling out when he laid down, but it seemed like he had too much space now- which was not a common feeling for someone as large as Simon. The detergent scent on his sheets wasn't comforting, wasn't warm enough. His blankets weren't heavy enough.

It took him another hour to answer the question- how had damp mattresses and sleeping bags on forest floors been more comfortable than his own bed in his own flat? He could feel the weariness in his bones, he could feel the comfort he craved... but it just wasn't enough.

So the common denominator had to be you.

"Fuckin' Hell." Simon groaned in the darkness of his bedroom, rubbing a calloused hand up and down his face before rolling himself to the side of the bed and swinging his feet over. Sweats were pulled over his boxers, socks and trainers on his feet, a hoodie over his bare chest, and a clean neck gaiter to pull over the bottom half of his face. Then it was a short 2 AM train ride and a three-block walk into base housing.

Of course, you lived in base housing. That meant a small bed, and a shitty mattress, less than fifteen minutes of hot water at a time..., He spent almost a month away from his flat and now he's crawling to base housing in the middle of the night like a fucking barracks bunny in need of a good fuck. Well, he might not turn that down either...

He shook the thought out of his head, remembering how wide-eyed and flushed you'd been the first three nights you'd shared the safehouse mattress with the lieutenant. Keep ignoring how that look on your face sent blood straight south How still and tense you were at first, shivering and locked up until you tucked into his chest, relaxing as sleep took you. The awkward tense period had waned quicker every night until it became the end-of-day habit for you to curl directly into his chest, falling asleep almost instantly no matter if it was on a damp mattress, forest floor, or sat up against cargo crates.

His mind flitted back to base housing as he raised his fist to beat on your door. Base housing. If you were what it took to get a good night's sleep when off duty, well, his mind was already strategizing the best ways to get you out of base housing and into off-base housing. (Preferably his off-base housing- in his bed.)

A minute passed. No answer. With another grumbled stream of curses, Simon shuffled tiredly on his feet, rubbing his eyes and contemplating just scaling up to the window, but decided against it. He didn't need to deal with base MPs getting called for what would look like an attempted burglary. So instead, his fist rapped even harder on your door, casting trained looks over his shoulder as he did.

Another minute, no answer. His fist raised again, but before he could rain holy (sleepy) hell on your door, it flew open.

Fuck. He was gone. He'd never sleep well alone again.

Just the sight of you and he could feel his brain finally producing sleep chemicals. The door blew a breeze of soft smells at him- detergent, your shampoo, some candle he might have to steal on his way out... and revealed you, only one eye open, hair sleep-mussed and jutting out in every direction, fuzzy socks, one pulled up your calf and the other slouched around your ankle, fluffy house shoes....

"LT?" You questioned with clear confusion, clearly exhausted, maybe not even all the way awake, voice thick and slow with sleep. Unfair you'd been able to sleep just fine on your own while he was pacing the city like an addict, "What are you- what time is it?"

"2:45 in th' morning." He answered gruffly, as usual, already shouldering, albeit gently, into your home. Your home was annnoyingly the perfect temperature, and everything smelled, looked, and felt like you. His nose wrinkled under his mask, frustrated at how much it put him at ease, and made him just want to curl up and hibernate through this cold snap they'd come home to. He'd take anything at this point- your bed, your couch, the floor at the foot of your bed.

"Right." You nodded, letting him past you without much of a fight, closing and locking your door with a sleepy kind of clumsiness, taking a few times to latch the chain before turning back to him. Simon absently wondered how much he could talk to you while keeping you in a sleepy stupor. He also wondered why the thought was so endearing to him as you mumbled, "Wha's going on? Don' tell me we're getting shipped off again already.."

"No' yet." Simon's chest clenched almost worryingly when you bumped into the corner of your couch, rocked on your heels, and then continued on like you hadn't noticed the collision, "Couldn't sleep."

"So now we both suffer?" You mused, the eye you had closed opening halfway as you chuckled at your lame joke, interrupted by a yawn.

"Prefer not to." Simon shrugged and before you could register it, he was already herding you up the stairs with a gentle efficiency that put any working breed to shame, enjoying the upwards view of the little sleep shorts that differed so much from what you'd worn in the field. He wondered if he'd sleep even better with the feeling of your bare thighs wrapped around his, "Lemme sleep here tonight, lovie? Just tonight?"

The just tonight part was probably a lie. But he'd use it as many nights as you'd let him get away with it. The pet name had honestly just slipped in his exhaustion, waking you up just enough that both of your eyes opened and widened, heat creeping up your cheeks. You paused on the steps, bumping directly into Simon's chest as he kept inching you closer to the bedroom. No, he wanted you back in that sleepy agreeable place, so his warm hand splayed across the soft fabric of your sleep shirt, gently rubbing at the small of your back to keep you moving.

"Please, love, go' used ta sleeping with you." He hummed as he guided you into your bedroom, finding the pile of blankets you no doubt had crawled out of to answer his knocking. So many blankets, had you been cold without him? Was the pillow lying longways beside your spot a limp substitute for his chest? He wouldn't ask, he'd just let his assumptions feed his ego. You were back to your lazy shuffling, chest shuddering with another yawn, "C'mon, sweetness, let's get y' ta bed, you're exhausted."

It was easy to gently manhandle you back into bed, your eyes already fluttering as his hands smoothed over your side and legs, brushing some hair out of your face. So maybe it was unfair, to kneel right by your bedside and ask in that low, deep accent, "So- can I stay?"

"Mmmhm, stay." You breathed. Simon smirked under his mask- so eager, not even an 'I guess'. Still, he wasn't going to ask twice, slipping himself into your bed and curling around you just as he had for the past two weeks. The relief was instant, his own eyes already getting too heavy to keep open for long.

The sheets were already warmed by your dozing, and with his added body heat, he could shove some of those extra blankets off. He'd keep you plenty warm. When he pulled you into him, he still had enough room to stretch his long legs out but didn't feel like he was swimming in space. Your pillowcases smelled soft, he didn't know things could smell soft but they did, tinged with your shampoo and perfume and whatever detergent you used. And the weight of your head in the crook of his arm, your arm over his chest, was just right.

He was out in seconds. Good luck ever having your bed to yourself ever again.

___

You've heard of give a dog a bone, now get ready for 'give a soldier a good nights sleep'. Simon is Goldilocks, and your bed is just right. Or maybe the 'give a mouse a cookie' book but this time its just your boss bullying his way into your life (bed) because he's sleepy and touch starved.

#call of duty modern warfare x reader #codmw x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod mwii x reader

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ozzgin · 5 months ago

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Ozz, we're about to be left without TikTok. Pls do something ;-;

I don't think you have to worry about that anymore, anon. Let me offer you an alternative, though, just in case. :) content: gender neutral reader, good ol' human kink trope

You eyed the name suspiciously, index finger hovering above the screen. You'd never seen this kind of writing before. Some sort of foreign language? Why was this in your recommendations, even? With a shrug, you gleefully ignored the eldritch runes and downloaded the cursed app, much too curious to ignore it.

Somehow, perhaps through some fateful glitch of the Universe or your own exceptional clumsiness, you'd accidentally stumbled upon a social media platform belonging to the Monster Realm.

At first, you wondered if this was some bizarre fetish website, or a community you weren't aware of: all videos, without exception, featured monstrous creatures and abstract aberrations. Tails, horns, hundreds of eyes, tentacles, fangs the size of your head. Above everything else, the quality of these costumes was phenomenal, as realistic as it could get.

With mild hesitation, you decided to post your own introductory video, humorously calling yourself a lost wanderer. The few comments you received were of utter confusion; what creature were you supposed to be? Was this some sort of disguise?

You assumed the members were appalled by your lack of participation, so you replied to one of the baffled viewers with a proper explanation and apology. You weren't into this kind of cosplay - just an average human, really - so you hoped it wouldn't be necessary.

That's all it took. The next day, you nearly dropped your phone from the shock of seeing tens of thousands of followers, comments, direct messages, requests. You scrolled helplessly, staring at the never-ending stream of notifications. "Wait, is this actually a human?", "Can you post more videos of yourself", "Do you take tips", "Would you be interested in being interviewed by us", and the suggestions and pleads kept going.

Even worse, you watched in terror as hundreds of videos discussed your arrival. Monsters trying to track you down, hoping to meet you in person, others proudly declaring they'd soon make you their mate.

Was it too late to log off and pretend it never happened?

Your ears perched up at the sound of scratches against your entrance door, and you prayed you hadn't been found by one of the blasphemies already.

#monstertok #monster imagine #monster x reader #monster x human #monster fucker #terato #teratophillia

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meganegatari · 10 months ago

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thinking about loser!ellie who's so vocal during sex...muahahaha. except idrk how to transcribe this kinda talk so LMAO. if you see me put something very similar in the loser!ellie finale...no you didn't. let's just say this is practice for that. 18+

every part of the whole experience would just be blowing her mind. the sights, the smells, the tastes, the sensations—turning her brain to soup. she'd be so obsessed with you, so overwhelmed by the new experience, she wouldn't know what to do with herself.

and at first she'd try to downplay it, stifle the sounds threatening to spill by biting her lip or clapping her hand over her mouth, only allowing quiet huffs and strings of profanities to escape. she'd want you to think she's cool, or she can handle it all smoothly.

however, as time goes on, she loses all control of herself. grunts of effort turn into mewls of your name, which turn into whiny, needy pleas the closer she gets to euphoria. she can't control her sounds anymore, because it's just too good. she even gets so pussydrunk she starts to babble nonsense. she pauses sucking on your clit to push her foggy glasses up her nose and slur through a crackly voice, "mmm, love this— love your pussy s'much babe...so much."

but when she's the one receiving, her pleasureful cries are music to your ears. whatever you may be doing, you'd hear no end of begs for more, until she can't form proper words anymore and all she can produce are loud, melodic moans.

not to mention the look on her face was one so lewd, yet one so clear showing she wasn't holding back. face as red as a budding rose, her copper eyebrows knitted together, her eyes rolled slightly back and screwed tightly shut—even the occasional tear streams down the side of her face. back arched and mouth open, her lips puffy, you wanted to engrave the image of her like this on the inside of your eyelids.

"ah, ah, ah, m'gonna cum—hnn!" is the final shriek of ecstasy before her wails become strangled in her throat—choked, silent moans while she's squirting everywhere and you're working her through it. then her sounds turn into heaving pants as she tries to bring herself back to earth and catch her breath, recover from the sensitivity.

after it all, she grows self-conscious, shyly asking you if she was too loud. but you reassure her quickly that she was perfect, she's so beautiful, and you're glad to have brought her pleasure. even though you're definitely getting a noise complaint from the neighbors. worth it! ♡

never know when to tag or not so: @andersonfilms @ch6douin @aouiaa @sapphic-ovaries @astro-cat2 @paqerings @r3starttt @littlefallenangel111 @srooch @sinfulprayerss @lvlymicha @sunnsh1ine @anniee333 @pinkcwake @marsworlddd @caszzine @saturnsdrafts @ashaynep @flowrmoth @liddysflyer @fortune777 @claude999 @brunaedn @bunnitewsilly @mimasroom2 @deliriousrn @infiniteinquiries @thekill3randthefinalgirl @kissyslut @xysbree tag?

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mehiwilldoitlater · 9 months ago

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When you were taken by your original world and sent into some kind of ancient China, full of demons and monsters, you weren't exactly sure why you were supposed to assist the "Destined one." Damn, you didn't even know how this.

When you find out that this destiny one was some kind of successor of Sun Wukong, saying that you were surprised was a joke.

His eyes scrutinized you; they were dark with a tint of gold when the light stricked them. He silently circled you, creating some distance between you, himself, and the other monkeys, curious about the mortals that presented themselves on their mountain.

Every time you tried to keep some distance, he was ready to close it enough to never leave his sight. What a strange situation, and what strange creature was sent to him just at the dawn of his journey.

The stories portrayed Wukong, as the name says, as a monkey kind of guy: cheerful, ready to make some jokes, who liked to make fun of people and laugh. And yet, the destined one was nothing like this trope.

He was composed, serious, and always straight forward. It was like he decided to expel every fun side from him in order to fulfill his duty.

Despite that, he showed more side to you: he was caring, trying to understand your confusion and fear while in a new world, always remembering to keep your peace while walking to make sure that you didn't get lost around. He was your protector, always ready to strike at every danger, and a good friend in the moment of agony.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't cry for these things, but... I'm sorry, so sorry."

You missed home. You never could believe yourself, but you missed your monothone and unsavory life. You missed waking up, going to walk, listening to endless hours of your boss rumbling—you missed even the crappy food of the cafeteria!

Everything seems so far away, without hope of reaching it. And you felt like trash because he was the one that was there to listen. You felt ashame, ashame of the fact that you were there complaining about what you lost while he was there fighting for both of you. You tried to cover your eyes, holding your breath to calm down, but nothing worked at all.

A stream of tears keeps on crashing down, hiccups escaping your lungs without stop.

Then, you felt his arms—two pairs of strong and soft arms, protecting your now vulnerable state from everything and everyone. His tail followed his gesture, keeping you in place and warm—so warm.

"Please." His high peech voice is now reduced to a whisper. "Don't hold it. Don't hold the pain. I can't see you like this. Please, whatever cloud your heart, speak to me."

Soon, you both became inseparable. You followed him like a shadow, carrying pills and balms, making plans with him for your next move. Damn, even Bajie couldn't believe his eyes when he saw you behind the monkey, a little afraid of the newcomer of the group.

You weren't anymore just some random mortal the Destined one had found and kept at his tail; now you were the Destined done caompanion and trusted friend. His journey became your journey, and his task your task. You both became bound by a silent vow.

"Say...why don't you choose a name? A real one this time."

"I never thought about it." He started to play with a leaf fallen from the nearby tree, thinking about your new idea.

You reached his side, holding his hand in yours, caressing the black claws on it. Once those scared you, now you wonder if a nice manicure could make them look prettier than now.

"Well, you can't let me call you Destined One or Monkey forever! You need a proper name! Something nice! ...umm...how about... Yuánfèn?"

"Um? Since when can you name people here?"

"Well," you continued, "it's destiny in Chinese, no? Like..fate!"

He looked at you, then laughed between his teeth a little. "There's no difference in how they usually call me then!"

"Yes, but...this is how I call you! So is different!"

Soon, you start to not miss home that much. You start to hope to be closer to him—to not go back. You hope that, after your honeymoon, you can stay together and that, despite all, there can be a happy ending for both of you. And silently, in his head, he hoped that too.

"May i?"

He gave you his silent consent, allowing you to caress his cheek with your so small fingers. Your lips met his own, your gesture so timid and gentle that you ask yourself if it's still a small image in your mind instead of something that you're actually doing now. He hasn't moved an inch; confusion starts to come to him and yourself, to the point that you need to stop. Now you just feel ashamed; you felt that you crossed a line, and now you don't even know if you can even go back.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

A small shush from him, his finger holding your chin and guiding you against him. This time, he's trying to mimic your gesture, a blush forming from his face to the visible part of his ears. His kiss is trembling but fierce. He waited long enough to see your still puzzled face.

"I...may don't get how you did it...Can you show me...again, please?"

You don't need to let him ask again; soon your lips smash together again, showing him exactly what's happening.

Your fate is sealed with that kiss, and there's no force on heaven and earth to undo it.

@sun-jglim

#black myth wukong #sun wukong #wukong #sun wukong x reader #wukong x reader #sun wukong x oc #wukong x oc #sun wukong x y/n #jttw #journey to the west #jttw sun wukong #isekai

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pearlcigs · 1 year ago

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⋆ make a woman out of me

christian!virgin!reader x ellie williams

summary ⋆ you swore to yourself you only longed for ellie in a platonic way, but as you get older you seem to realize just how pretty she really is.

warnings ⋆ 2.95k ⋆ smut, i might get cancelled 🤷‍♀️, reader (non penetrative) virginity loss, religious themes, ellie is 19, reader is 18, pastor's daughter!reader, mentions of homophobia, alludes to reader's parents being homophobic, ellie smokes weed, pet names (pretty girl, babe, honey, baby, good girl), cursing, first kiss, corruption, corruption kink, oral (r recieving)

time moved slowly within the parameters of jackson. the same familiar faces, day in and day out. though, it was comforting living in such a community. the horrors of the world beyond the walls that stood tall was something you rarely wanted to think about. it made you sick to your stomach to think of your friends, loved ones, even people you weren't particularly close with, outside of the safe walls, being face to face with whatever monsters marred the unhabitual world.

your parents were strict with religion, your father being the only self acclaimed paster that jackson has ever had to offer. there was never a time you could remember, even before finding refuge in the cozy town, where your parents weren't devout. vivid memories of your mother's fingers gliding over the cross necklace she wore around her neck when you would get in trouble. disappointed sighs and signs of the cross, begging the lord above for forgiveness, explaining to the sky you were too young to know what you've done was a sin.

the bible was followed closely in your home, and you obliged without caution. you prayed, attended your father's mass sessions in the tiny chapel just down the road where he preached the bible, wore the holy cross around your neck to show your devotion, you've read the old torn and withered bible you were so lucky to find front to back. religion was all you've ever known and you had found no reason to ever question the man who hung on your wooden walls, hanging from a cross with his hands and feed nailed to it like an animal. that was, until ellie.

"come on, don't you wanna jus' see what it feels like?" ellie teased, waving the joint in front of your face like a taunt. "no thank you." you replied, sitting at the foot of her bed, legs crossed, eyes wandering around her room. when ellie first came to jackson you were infatuated with her, dwindling it down to pure want but only of friendship. "good girl, that's what you say when someone offers you this shit." ellie moves the weed away from your face, inhaling it and then turning away to exhale the smoke away from you.

it started with just friendly smiles, offering to show her around and help her get to know everyone. she was wary of you. honestly, afraid of your friendly demeanor. people on the outside of the jackson walls were cruel and vicious, she thought, with no doubt in her mind, you were being friendly to lure her into some kind of trap. she danced around you with caution, keeping her distance but also decidingly giving you a chance. she quickly became fond of you, your personality, your looks. everything about you appealed to ellie and something about that made you proud, even more eager to befriend her.

the words 'good girl' ring from her mouth and you're not sure how to respond. was there even a proper response to your best friend calling you that? a simple nod was all you could come up with. watching her lips intently as she blew the smoke out of her lungs. your fingers came up to your neck, fiddling with the cross necklace around your neck, a habit passed down from your mother. ellie never paid much attention to your shy outlook on life. you were reserved and a part of her liked that she had so much of you to herself.

it wasn't until you were 17 that you finally came to terms with the fact that your infatuation was more than just a yearning to be her friend. tears of guilt streaming down your face in the confessional at the shoddy chapel, divider between you and the young volunteer who was ready to beg jesus to abolish your sins. "i'm a girl... and i like another girl." you sniffled, lowering the pitch of your voice instinctively so he wouldn't see past your anonymity. ache in your heart when silence was returned, until soft mutterings of a prayer, asking jesus to forgive your tainted heart.

ellie extended her arms behind her head, a small stretch that gave you big feelings. her shirt rode up, exposing the small of her stomach. you swallowed harshly, wondering why god would tempt you with something like this. a soft sigh emits from ellie's lips, flicking the almost finished joint into a nearby makeshift ashtray. another soft sigh falling from her perfect lips. intent eyes trying to be secretive of the no less then unholy thoughts that you were being tempted with.

ellie was put off at first by your fervent religion. her experiences were tainted, never having a good visual of what a healthy relationship with god looked like. she was unsure if you were going to try and convert her into some pious worshipper. you weren't secretive of your religion and that much was enough to make ellie suspicious. with time she realized you were different from the other religious people she's met. only bringing up your religion or anything to do with it when you were directly asked or if it was really important to speak about.

"whatchu lookin' at, pretty girl?" she chuckled as she noticed the way your eyes locked onto her, like if you looked away she'd be gone. it wasn't unusual for ellie to be flirty or to make casual remarks about how pretty you were. still, every time she did your cheeks were adorned in a rosy color. "just you, i guess. i dunno..." you answered back quickly, hoping that answer was enough to satisfy her eager curiosity. "yeah? just me? got something you wanna say to me?" she was just joking around, trying to get you riled up and flustered but you did have things you wanted to say to her.

"no." you answered, though you were sure she wasn't expecting an actual response. "no? yikes, babe, i'm hurt, thought we had somethin' real here." she smiled and you felt the butterflies in your stomach become tongue tied. one thing you loved about ellie above all things was her smile, how the skin around her eyes scrunched up just the tiniest bit, the apples of her cheeks becoming more prominent. everything about her smile made your head spin.

"els, i like you." the words slip out of your mouth before you could even process what was going on. her smile that coerced you to confess to her in the first place falters. "i'm sorry?" she questions, unsure if you meant what she thought you did. you had never said anything that led ellie to believe you were homophobic or that you thought all gay people were sinners like most of the older people who were religious in jackson did. but still she was careful to keep her sexuality from you, strongly assured you would take after your parents' stance on homosexuality.

"i... i don't know why i said that." you say, truthfully. mouth slightly agape and eyes widened with shock that you'd just outed yourself after years of trying to force down your feelings. there was a silence between the two of you. silence wasn't uncommon around each other, sometimes the both of you preferring to spend your time together quietly as a way to unwind after a treacherous day. but this silence was different than those times. ellies breath was caught in her throat, words jumbled on her tongue.

she only began reacting when she saw the panic on your face, followed by your eyes becoming glassy. "hey, hey. don't cry. it's okay." she comforted, sitting up and placing a hand on your knee. she wasn't good at comforting people, you were well aware of that. "i didn't mean to.." you admitted, voice timid and quiet, still uncertain to how she would react. "hey, it's okay, honey." the term of endearment sliding off her tongue like she was meant to call you that for the rest of your lives.

"i'm not mad." ellie affirms, her tone soft, knowing how afraid of other people's anger you are. another flash of silence emerges, just you and ellie staring at each other. neither of you knowing what to say. she pitied you, seeing how much you resented yourself. your bottom lip slotted between your teeth, biting hard enough to potentially draw blood. "don't do that..." she mutters, gently running her thumb over your partially chapped lips, pulling your bottom lip out of your teeth's grasp.

your breath hitches, a small shudder traveling up your spine. your eyes locked on hers, your heart beating loud enough for the whole world to hear. ellie's eyes flicker down to your lips and then back to your eyes. "i've liked you for a while." you admit, knowing there was no going back at this point. "oh, yeah?" her voice was low, some would even describe as seductive. her thumb still lingering on your bottom lip. "yeah." you whisper back, your eyes now flickering down to her lips.

ellie's hand moves to your jaw. her eyes flicking down to your lips one last time before she leans down and presses her lips against yours. her lips are soft, just like you had imagined. she seems skilled, like she knew what she was doing and what the end goal was. a small smile forming on her face as she realizes you have no idea what you're doing. “like this.” she mumbles against your lips acutely aware how clueless you were when it came to romance.

you follow her lead, doing your best to follow her lead. her free hand finding your waist, squeezing gently. you pull away, panting faintly. "i don't know.." you mumble, trailing off as ellie puts her lips back to yours. the hand that was on your jaw roaming to the back of your head, fingers getting tangled in your hair. "i know." ellie responds moments later, her lips brushing against your with each syllable. you couldn't comprehend what was happening, your mind going blank with ellie's lips on yours. she adored the way you looked at her. looking at her like you needed her.

she gently lays you back, grabbing the first pillow she could find and settling it under your head so you were comfortable. her thighs either side of your body, her body weight on top of you, giving you a cozy feeling you'd never experienced before. "you don't even know how long i've been wantin' to kiss your pretty lips..." she whispers, her bangs hanging in front of her face. you bring your hand up to her face, nervously tucking the hair behind her ear. "god, you're so fuckin'..." she stops, just taking a second to admire how alluring you looked under her.

her lips dip down to your neck, slowly biting and sucking on the skin. your breath hitches, a small whine pushing past your swollen lips. ellie groans against the skin of your neck. "make more of those pretty noises f'r me." she mumbles, hips rolling over yours, another whine spilling from you at the pleasurable feeling. ellie's kisses move away from your neck, down your body. trailing down your collarbone to your clothed chest to your stomach. her lips stop, hovering right above your pussy.

your heart was beating out of your chest, you back arching a little in anticipation. "how bad do you wan' it? tell me, baby. tell me how much you wan' me." she was totally and utterly obsessed with you, her mind becoming drunk by the thought of you— the mere sight of you. "p-please, els..." you mumbled, voice timid from embarrassment. it was partially expected though, you'd never done anything like this. "i want you..." it was simple but effective, making ellie go feral for you. "fuck—"

she lowers her lips to your pussy, kissing over the fabric of your shorts. watching her through hooded eyes, your pussy throbbing from her touch. "gonna eat this pussy s'good. show you what you've been missin' out on." she groans, the fabric of your shorts dampening as she trails her tongue over the sensitive area. ellie surprised herself, shocked that she was able to dirty talk to you so easily like this. your hips were writhing against the bed, more eager than you've ever been in your entire life. you felt dirty for wanting this, knowing that god was watching you become a total slut for ellie.

ellie's fingers hooked on your shorts, pulling them down slow as slow could be, chuckling as you whined. "ellie. ellie, please." you muttered, begging for her to hurry up. ellie's eyes rolled back, the sound of you begging getting her more aroused than she's ever been. no one's ever made her feel like this before. she was done with the teasing, if not for your sake but for hers. she pulled your shorts and underwear off swiftly, discarding them somewhere to find later.

her eyes locked on your bare pussy, fighting back a moan at the sight. "you've got me so fucked up, babe." she muttered, kissing around your thighs first. you were nervous, breath shallow and quick paced, hungry for ellie but embarrassed nevertheless. your voice was caught in your throat, blinking quickly as you watched ellie kiss all over your thighs. ellie looked up at you and you were able to see that she was just as nervous as you. "is this okay? you can tell me to stop." she sounded sincere, pushing aside her pure need to get your consent.

you nodded, not trusting your voice. "use your words like the good girl you are, yeah?" she's longing to just taste your glistening cunt. "yes— yes, els. 't's okay..." she doesn't waste another second after hearing your shaky voice, tongue urgently dipping between your wet folds. you moan at the contact, feeling like you were on cloud 9. ellie's tongue presses flat against your clit, your hand clamping over your mouth. moans being muffled as ellie savors the sweet noises your dripping cunt was making.

ellie wasn't fond of you muffling your perfect little sounds, wanting to hear just how good she could make you feel. "let me hear you. don't make me punish you.." you don't move your hand away from your sinful mouth. your free hand finds ellie's, interlocking your fingers which she gladly accepts. "c'mon, baby. let me hear you." she encourages once more, lips moving against you with ease, mixture of your wetness and her spit. but to her dismay, you still ignored her commands. her free hand sliding your shirt up your body to expose your breasts, you were never one to wear a bra. her hand kneading the supple flesh, thumb running over your nipple.

she licks a strip from your entrance to your clit, making your thighs shake with immense pleasure. "wanna be a brat?" she mumbles into your pussy, looking up at you through her eyelashes, staring you down as her tongue circles your clit. "what is it they make you do in confession? hail mary's? 5 of 'em, now. or i stop." she smirks, watching the look in your eye become more flustered by her request. you slowly move your hand away from your mouth, not wanting this pleasure to ever stop.

"h-hail mary, full of grace—" you cut yourself off with a moan, eyes squeezing shut as you lift your hips, pushing your cunt further into ellie's face. "get to ruin this pretty pussy." ellie groans. "keep goin'. don't stop." she aids you to continue, feeling your cunt flutter around her tongue. "the lord is with— is with thee..." you continue, stuttering through the words. "good girl, keep goin' f'r me. let me hear you." she continues to egg you on, talking into your pussy. her own moans mixing in with the sound of yours.

"blessed art thou— ellie, please..." you whine, squeezing her hand and throwing your head back into the pillow, back arching off the bed. "c'mon, pretty girl. blessed art thou..." you toes curl at her words and the feeling of her tongue teasing your entrance. "—amongst... amongst women..." you trail off, mind becoming to hazy to even remember the words to the prayer you've prayed everyday since you could talk. ellie smirked into your cunt, relishing in the feeling of being able to turn your mind into mush, being the only one able to turn your mind into mush.

your moans and whines became breathier and higher pitched with each flick of her tongue. your stomach twisting in an unfamiliar knot. "ah, ah, ellie—" your thighs trying to clench together and push her head away, the feeling becoming too much. "you're gonna cum, baby?" she spreads your legs wider, her only greedy want is to make pleasure wash over you. "ellie! ellie! ellie!" you chant her name, eyes rolling back as the pleasurable wave of your orgasm finally hits you, moans loud and unfiltered.

"there we go... yeah, nice an' easy. fuck." she mutters, tongue fucking you through your high until your writhing and pushing her off of you. her lips relocating to your thighs and slowly working their way up to your pelvic bone, soft kisses against your skin. "tasted so good, baby. best pussy i've ever had." she praises, eager to show you just how much you pleasured her even though you technically didn't make her cum. "els..." you whined, face flushed a rosy red. "yeah, baby. 'm right here." she leaves a trail of kisses up your body as she reaches your lips, leaving a soft peck to let you know she was here. "does this mean you like me too...?" you asked innocently. "are you serious?"

another christian!reader x ellie williams fic!

#🍄 ⋆ the last of us #🕰️ ⋆ birds and bees #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #the last of us #the last of us x reader #the last of us smut #tlou #tlou x reader #tlou smut #ellie wiliams #ellie williams x you #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie smut #ellie x reader smut

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ashlovesfood · 2 months ago

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I Just Wanna Touch You, Tease you, Lick You, Please you!

Tags: Vacation, threesome, reasurrance, clothes ripping, pool sex, semi public, pounding, two holes for a reason! songs and lyrics, clark is kinda changed, marking

Twt link (Couldn't find a proper 3some but this is from Bruces pov)

〴⋋_⋌〵

A nice vacation to relieve all your aches and sores, but Bruce and Clark decide to surprise you.. The time of weather in Gotham was mixed, from being extremely hot to the point you walked around the manor naked, or when it was freezing cold and you snuggled into the slivers of warmth of Bruce’s body heat on the sheets. Either way, you desperately needed a change and Bruce could tell.

“Doll, how do you feel about a vacation out of Gotham? Somewhere tropical?” You hesitated at first, thinking about if you really wanted to get out of Gotham. There was a pregnant pause before you answered. “Sure! Why not.” You smiled at Bruce, his face lighting up with a relaxed expression. He was going to use his private jet for this occasion, his phone buzzing with text messages. Bruce was secretly going to have Clark come, a threesome about to come your way.

The night turned into packing your suitcase for the vacation, your essentials and other items stuffed into the sides. You finished around midnight as Bruce coaxed you into bed, stopping you from using more energy and to get a good night’s sleep before the vacation.

In the next few days the time to fly out to Fiji came, the car filled with yours and Bruce’s suitcase as he drove towards his private jet. You sang along to your favorite playlist, the song ‘Kiss Me’ by Sixpence None The Richer streaming on your phone. Bruce laughed at how deep you were into the song, the window rolled down enough to let the wind in so it could blow your hair around, your arm dancing with the air as you stuck it out.

Finally, the sight of Bruce’s private jet came into view, the large Aerospatiale AS-350B-2 Ecureuil. Bruce ordered his men to move the suitcases from the car, his hand taking yours as he led you up the stairs into the cabin. It was spacious, the well crafted interior making you gush in awe as Bruce sat you down next to a window.

His pilot was going to take off soon according to Bruce, your eyes looking out the window as you daydreamed. “Bunny. Bunnyy?” His hand gently rubbed your cheek, his palm moving your face to look at him. “Oh sorry- yes B?” You replied to the pet name, wondering what he was going to say. Bruce chuckled at how you looked like a clueless bunny, all dolled up and cute for him. You had a conversation with him as the jet took off, the trip to Fiji taking action.

Above the clouds, you saw how the sky looked so unique from the jet. Your eyes were bulging out of your sockets as you ushered about the view, Bruce admiring how cute you looked when you rambled about something you love. Hours passed, and it looked like you arrived in Fiji within the right time, the sky about to set into a sunset. Bruce ordered a car, a black BMW so he could drive you back to the hotel. It was a huge grand hotel, the lobby showing off large sparkly chandeliers with lounges and a private bar serving the most expensive drinks for their customers.

Bruce assured you that he could handle all the checking in and wanted you to relax, his broad back flexing in his suit as you sat in the lounge, your ears hearing a familiar voice. “Mrs.Wayne? Is that you?” Your head spun around, seeing the one and only Clark Kent in Fiji where you and Bruce were staying. There were past events that flashed in your mind, but you quickly dismissed it and returned to Clark. “Clark! I can’t believe you're here, wait why are you here?” “I’m staying in Fiji for a- uhm, work trip.” You caught onto the hesitation, but dismissed it as being nervous.

Before you could continue, a hand laid on your shoulder and you heard Bruce’s voice. “Clark. I see you’re here and you met my wife. Well, we’re going to our room so meet us some other time, yea?” Bruce gave him a look, making Clark nod and say his goodbyes.

You didn’t mind it as anything weird, Bruce lifting you in bridal style as he walked to the suite. The quiet patter of his footsteps against the floor filled the silence, your head laying on his chest as he took you. Bruce held you with one hand, the keycard opening the door with a beep.

The inside was breathtaking, roses and flowers all decorated on the inside and there were small gifts everywhere. “Oh my gosh! I can’t believe you did this for me!!” You giggled at the sight of all the items Bruce got you, the sight of your favorite brands laid out through the room. “I really wanted to spoil you so much dove, you know how much I love you. Come down to the private pool and I’ll see you soon, okay?” Bruce kissed you on the lips, his eyes lingering on your mouth before he walked out the room. You felt like a shy school girl seeing her crush in the hallways, his passion and love for you making you feel all giddy inside. Gifts ranged from jewelry to full on letters of his passionate love for you and only you. You laughed at how silly you felt, the moment brought memories back on how much Bruce spoiled you.

Your hands eventually found the cutest floral bathing suit inside the bathroom, the fabric being soft and smooth against your skin. It was a cute pink color with ruffles paired with a pair of white and cherry blossom bow flip flops. You smiled at how he got your proportions right, it fit like a glove and it wasn’t uncomfortable in the slightest!

You walked out of the suite with your phone and a pair of sunglasses, your eyes catching onto the private pool near your room. Bruce was in the water, his back muscles covered in water drops as he leaned against the edge of the pool, the sunset coloring the sky with a satisfying orange and red. “Oh my lord he looks soooo satisfying from the back…” You whispered to yourself as you walked near him. Bruce angled his head back, looking at the familiar sight of your legs dolled up with the pretty flip flops. “Angel, why didn’t you say anything? You were quiet as a mouse.”

Bruce’s arms flexed against the edge, his forearms thick witch veins and muscle, the sight of him making your pussy throb. “Sorry, you just looked so delicious from the back I couldn’t resist looking.” You dipped your feet into the water, your figure settling down next to Bruce near the edge. The water rippled calmly around the two of you, the temperature being a perfect balance of warmth and cool.

“I, baby. You remember Clark from the lobby, well he’s going to come here soon.” “Wait, why?” Bruce looked at you, and that’s when you realized this is another threesome. You gasped in shock, the realization hitting you like a brick as it sent waves down your spine. “Another one? Oh you dirty little!”

Bruce chuckled to himself as you flushed with embarrassment and excitement, the view of you worked up made him hard. He caught your lips once more, his tongue slipping into your mouth when you gasped, the advantage spurring you on. You broke the kiss for a breath of air when you saw Clark watching, the once thick black rimmed glasses removed from his face as he stood near the pool. His whole mood seemed to change, his once shy and nerdy demeanor turning into a quiet and more confident expression.

“Getting started without me Bruce? Couldn’t wait that long for me huh?” Clark lifted you out of the water in his arms as he placed you into the hot tub, the steam making you melt into the water. Bruce and Clark seemed to talk to each other as you happily relaxed in the hot water, all your problems being resolved at this moment. Clark slipped in at your right side while Bruce sat on your left, their hands rubbing onto your body.

You moaned at the sensation, their rough hands working out knots and sores in your body, the touch of their fingers brushing against your nipples leaving you all needy and frustrated. Clark sucked on your earlobe, whispering sweet nothings as Bruce bit your neck, leaving love marks all over to show that you were taken.

“Ngh! Too muchhh..!” You arched against the tub, Bruce’s hand reaching behind to slap your doughy globes. It felt so dirty, doing it in a hot tub where anyone can walk in but you knew no one would. Clark was impatient, his hands ripping the fabric of your swimsuit in half revealing your boobs.

“Fuckk.. Look so good for me ma..” He shifted your body to sit on Bruce’s lap as he took one of your nipples, sucking on your areola leaving a mark on your boob. Bruce grinded against your ass, his diamond hard cock leaking precum. “Just had to rip the swimsuit huh? Calling me the dog? Your lucky I wanna see you fuck her.”

Your swimsuit was discarded, leaving you naked and free in the water as Bruce and Clark moved against you, the girthy rock hard cocks against your flesh. Clark took his 10 inches out, leaning in to align himself with your tight pretty hole. He slipped into your cunt, a groan leaving him as he felt your walls clench around his length. “Fuh- fuck..!” His hips snapped against yours, the water spilling over the edge from his strength. Bruce bit down on your shoulder as he rubbed his tip against your ass, his 9 inches about to be buried inside your asshole. He spread the flesh out, lining up his throbbing tip to your hole. Bruce moaned as he entered, the tightness making him more turned on than before.

You screamed in ecstasy, the feeling of being stuffed full of inches from both holes made you go to heaven and be ripped back. “Oh angel- such a good little bun f’me..” He groaned, his front leaning into your back as he fucked you with his cock. Both guys pounded into you at the same pace, the satisfaction of being able to fill you up so full was worth it.

Your eyes were rolled all the way back into your brain, palms and fingers rubbing the delicate skin around your most precious parts. Bruce rubbed your nipples while Clark took your clit, his soft yet rough fingers leaving you with a harsh orgasm. You shivered, your slick doubling as you came all over his cock.

“Cumminggggg!..!” You were fucked without a break, the overstimulation of their dicks inside you made you cum over and over.

“Hah- shitttt..” Clark buried himself to the hilt, his warm seed filling your walls to the brim. Bruce followed behind, his cum filling your ass up. You were filled from both holes with hot cum like a donut, your mouth drooling as you found yourself being cock drunk. Bruce rubbed your body in the water as he hugged you tightly, watching Clark massage your thighs from his rough pounding. Best vacation ever..?

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

A/N started around 10 and finished around 1:30 ... Also the plane is from batman begins if ur like what the freak + title is from would you mind by janet jackson (n˘v˘•)¬

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cybrasigilism · 2 months ago

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Getting In Good W/ The Thanos Team (NSFW HEADCANONS)

warning: smut and all things of the like | NOT PROOFREAD | lowercase intended | reader has female genitalia | dryhumping / outercourse | these are my interpretations of these characters, please be respectful even if my opinions on the characters differ from yours

characters: thanos/choi su-bong (player 230), nam-gyu (player 124), se-mi (player 380), park min-su (player 125), gyeong-su (player 256)

A/N: didn’t want to name this “dryhumping the thanos team” but tbf thats basically what this is oops 🫢 gotta love a headcanon post every now and then.

MDNI! 18+ content beneath the cut, reader’s discretion is advised

thanos / choi su-bong (player 230)

⟢ your make-out sessions usually end with you guys dry humping. sorry 🫢

⟢ he’s not the type to sit there motionless while you do all the work, no. he’ll sink right into it, rolling his hips up into your own as you search for that friction— that pleasure

⟢ definitely down for some dirty talk, but who’s surprised by that.

“y’ feel that? how hard you make me?”

“fuck, ya’ haven’t even taken your clothes off and ‘t still feels like we’re fucking..”

⟢ matter of fact, you guys don’t even necessarily need to be making out for thanos to want to dry hump. if you ever take a seat on his lap, just know there’s always a chance he could feel the need to start grinding up into you— however subtle it may be

⟢ if you’re wearing jeans, he’ll hook his fingers between the belt loops and pull you into it

———

nam-gyu (player 124)

⟢ oh, he is mean about outercourse— but let’s be real, when is nam-gyu ever nice

⟢ loves to watch you squirm beneath him as he rubs your pussy through your panties

⟢ he’s still on top when you guys dry hump, usually likes to have one or both of your legs over his shoulders while you guys grind together

⟢ the most you will ever hear him moan is during dry humping. its something about having all of you, right there, yet restricted by layers of fabric that drives him crazy. the first time you guys did this, you were surprised that those sounds were coming out of his mouth

“ooh fuck yeah, been needing this bad”

“ah shit, i can still feel how fucking wet you are through your clothes— what a pitiful little slut”

“oh fuck, yeah… just keep looking at me like that, fuck—“

⟢ if he’s feeling lazy, he’ll make you sit on his lap while he lays back and enjoys the show. at most he’ll rest his hand on your waist, but don’t expect much affection in these moments

———

se-mi (player 380)

⟢ it’s interchangeable who’s in charge for outercourse, but if it’s se-mi’s turn— you guys won’t even need to strip for you to cum

⟢ loves the view of looking down at the pathetic little expressions you make while she’s on top of you, she also loves feeling you shiver whenever she touches your bare skin— still despite what you two are doing

⟢ even with how urgent dry humping feels, se-mi always tries to be romantic with it— as she is with any sexual act you guys partake in. this comes out in the endless streams of praise she showers you in

“just couldn’t wait— i had to have you like this..”

“you still make me feel so good, even when this is all we have time for”

“ugh, i can’t wait to fuck you proper later….”

⟢ will kiss over every inch of your exposed skin as you guys dry hump. what can she say? she gets very affectionate when she’s horny :)

⟢ if she’s feeling it, she might tease you by making it seem like she’ll move her hands between the fabric separating her from your pussy— she doesn’t usually follow through with this though

————

gyeong-su (player 256)

⟢ he’s so desperate when it comes to dry humping, it’s actually kind of adorable

⟢ you usually initiate the whole thing by “innocently” rubbing your ass up against him when you guys are spooning, and if you consider stopping after you’ve started, he’ll insist by grabbing your hips and rolling his own into you himself

⟢ gyeong-su makes the cutest little whimpers as he buries his face in the crook of your neck as your grinding grows sloppier, the desperation really shining through in his voice

“oh fuck, my god you feel so good.. so good…”

“i just wanna fuck you s’bad… please lemme fuck you…”

“oh god, your ass is so perfect.. feels so perfect on me—“

⟢ as he has his face buried into your neck, gyeong-su will kiss and bite you all over in an attempt to distract himself from the pleasure you’re making him feel— an attempt that falls short, seeing as the sensation of him marking your neck up only eggs you on further

————

park min-su (player 125)

⟢ surprise surprise, min-su is vocal when you guys dry hump

⟢ he’s so overwhelmed by the sensation of you grinding down onto his lap that all he can bring himself to do is plant his hands on your thighs and try his darnedest to hold out as long as possible— however, if you maintain a steady pace, he usually cums pretty fast from dry humping (no shame in that)

⟢ loves when you purposely drag him out, bringing him to what he thinks will be the edge, only for you to slow down and change things up. of course, he never wants these moments to end

⟢ his moans get so desperate, so slutty— it almost sounds like he’s on the verge of tears when you ride him through your clothes

“ah fuck, fuck! oh shit, can’t keep doing this— feels s’ good, ‘m so c—lose…”

“yeah, yeah… please keep riding me j’st like that— oh, fuck me…”

⟢ much like gyeong-su, min-su likes to have you as close as possible while you fuck him through his clothes. if he’s feeling desperate enough, he’ll slip his hands under your shirt just to feel your skin on his, to some degree

═════════════

thank you so much for reading divas! the squid game fandom may be slowly “dying”, but the people will have to pry this show from my cold dead hands

aa always, any advice/constructive criticism on how i can improve my writing is appreciated and requested. have an amazing day/night lovelies 💋

🏷️: @gongyoosgf @namsgyu @kouzih @strangelife122 @agornotsworld @kvstjwonnie @room-722 @pink-apples001 @fiicalapsiholoaga @luvlyfandoms @putrescentpoet @holyshtimgay @maxinehufflepuffprincess

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etherealrin · 3 months ago

Note

okokokokok, OKAY. so.

i feel terrible as a moot to send in a request, buuuttt.... how would the blue lock men be with their daughter's first boyfriend?

specifically rin, sae, nagi, and kaiser!

please don't pressure yourself! take your time😊

⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆ who's that boy?

how the blue lock men react to their daughter's first!boyfriend ft. itoshi rin, itoshi sae, nagi seishiro, and michael kaiser.

note: reader briefly mentioned as the wife, mostly crack

itoshi rin

- his daughter brings a boy back from kindergarten one day, tiny hands interlaced, and rin’s jaw hits the floor

- he stares down intimidatingly at the little boy, who just blinks his innocent eyes back

- “daddy! we’re gonna get married!” his little angel exclaims, all excited

- he thinks he’s going to pass out, because huh? it’s absurd to him—it took him years to fall in love, and here his girl was, barely two months into kindergarten

- begrudgingly agrees to attend their “wedding” at the playground near your house after you convince him that it was all fun and games, he’s willing to do anything to see his sweet girl smile

- the first real boyfriend he meets is in high school, who his daughter invites over for dinner one night, and rin is mildly startled when the guy recognizes him

- “i didn’t know your dad was itoshi rin?” his daughter’s boyfriend asks, in awe. “sir, i am a huge fan!”

- rin very slowly takes a liking to him after that (after the boy says that he always thought rin was the better brother.)

itoshi sae

- meets his daughter’s first boyfriend while picking her up from high school in his bmw m30i (red seats too!)

- “who’s this?” he asks, cool gaze landing on the boy next to his kid

- “h-hello sir,” the guy half bows, fear in his face evident

- “DAD! i told you not to scare him off…” his daughter sighs, waving the boy goodbye while blushing

- sae honestly doesn’t mind that much about his kid dating, he just gets a snicker out of intimidating them

- he does however care about this boy’s personality, is he worthy of sae’s little angel?

- “so, is he any good at soccer?” sae questions.

- “DAD!” his poor kid...

- any sort of relationship between a boyfriend and sae feels business professional, the guy is petrified of slipping up in front of him

- sae is the father that will show up at random times, even crashes dates sometimes and acts like nothing is out of the ordinary, yes he happened to want to get ice cream the same time his daughter and her boyfriend were at the store

- at the end of the day, sae just cares that his daughter feels happy and loved, even if he gets a kick out of scaring them both

nagi seishiro

- doesn’t mind at all, especially if the guy likes video games

- practically steals his daughter’s boyfriend away from her when she brings him home to meet seishiro

- seishiro was known as the “chill” dad anyway, but he was getting along a bit too well with the boyfriend

- his daughter had brought him over for “dinner” (ordered takeout), and upon meeting, nagi asked if he played any video games—he didn’t even bat an eye when his daughter introduces the guy as her boyfriend

- they were duoing just about every game possible after that

- the boyfriend now frequently comes over after school, sometimes just to ask for a video game carry from his girlfriend’s dad

- becomes a part of the family, has all of the streaming system logins and his own profiles on the ps5, xbox, and nitendo switch (super smash bros is an experience with nagi, his daughter, and the boyfriend)

michael kaiser

- 100% has a “no dating until you’re __ age rule” in the household

- even though he’s found love, he’s still extremely wary of it, and he’s even more clueless on how to be a proper parent

- he tries, but he can’t help if he’s a bit too strict at times

- thus his daughter hadn’t told him about her first, or second boyfriend, the one she introduces is actually her third who had asked her to the formal and she couldn’t not tell kaiser

- “dad, what would you do if i were, hypothetically, with a guy at the dance?”

- “i’d lock him into a police interrogation room with me and ask him extremely personal uncomfortable questions to make sure he’s alright, why?”

- the poor guy who had asked his daughter out is now sat in the backseat of michael’s too expensive car, along with his daughter on the way to the venue of the formal

- michael glares at him from the driver’s seat, eyeing him up and down in every way possible

- “who are your parents?” “do you have any hobbies or skills?” “are your grades okay?” “did your father ever beat you up?” “where do you live?” “how old are you?” “what’s your sign?” “why do you think you’re worthy of being here?” the interrogation session has only just begun.

- as if the rose tattoo weren’t intimidating enough, his daughter is lucky if any boyfriend isn’t running away crying after meeting kaiser

a/n: this is different from my usual content so i hope you guys like it...i personally don't think i did a great job characterizing this but f it we ball! tysm ira for the req <3

masterlist!

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cassidyandonlycassidy · 11 months ago

Text

tornadoes aren't more important than you

tyler owens (twisters) x reader

words: 1.5k

warnings: pregnant!reader, married!reader, established relationship

“be careful, yeah?” you place your hands on tylers cheeks, tilting his head down to look you in the eye.

“i wish you could come with me.” tyler sighs, leaning in and pressing his forehead against yours, his cowboy hat tipping upwards and off his head, clattering onto the hardwood.

“i know.” you miss it. the excitement, the fear, the anticipation of storm chasing. “but i don't think the baby would like me getting whipped around.”

tyler chuckles and presses his hands to your stomach, fully showing now that you've reached six months.

“im gonna be safe and im gonna be back home to you real soon.” tyler kisses you deeply, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you in close.

“uh, not to interrupt-”

“you are interrupting, boone.” tyler looks up at him as he stands in the open doorway, trucks filling the driveway.

“we were just finishing saying goodbye.” you raise to your tiptoes and give tyler one more peck.

“i love you.” you whisper against your husbands lips.

“i love you, baby.”

“ew.” boones nose scrunches up, still somehow not used to seeing you kiss despite being married for a year now.

“you stay safe too boone.” you point at him, watching as they head out the door and pile in the trucks.

you wave goodbye to everyone, tyler getting in last as he tips his hat he grabbed off the floor towards you, a silent promise to come back home.

you sigh as you watch them pull away, hand stroking over your belly as the trucks disappear in a cloud of dirt. “it's okay.” you whisper to the baby, but it's mostly for yourself. “daddy will be back.”

“hey.” you answer the phone with a smile on your face. “i watched the live stream.”

“pretty fucking cool huh?”

“pretty cool that you let boone drive the rig.” you chuckle, knowing tyler did that specifically for you, to show you that he can let others take the lead, let them be the one to drive into the tornado.

“how's my baby doing?” tyler asks, ignoring your teasing.

“which one?” you giggle, laying a hand on your stomach. “im good, baby is kicking a lot though.”

“put me on speaker.” tyler requests. you roll your eyes but still turn the volume up and hold the speaker up to your belly.

“it's daddy.” tylers voice is half strict and half high baby voice. “you better stop giving your mama grief when im not there to help her. behave for just a bit longer, buddy.”

“i hope he listens to you.” you shake your head, bringing the phone back up. “how's the storms looking for tomorrow?”

“tracking a couple cells.” tyler confirms. “im coming home friday no matter what they look like over the weekend.”

“mhm, sure.” you roll your eyes, although you don't doubt it. now that you're pregnant, tyler is even more protective over you. he knows you can handle anything, but that doesn't mean he's going to force you to do it all on your own.

“i will. already miss that pretty face baby.” his country twang is music to your ears as you hum out.

“i miss you too. miss kissing your lips.”

“you're killing me, sugar.” tyler groans. you hear dani shouting something in the background.

“i-”

“you gotta go. i know. love you.”

“love you more, darling.”

you have tylers livestream on in the background as you clean the house, feeling the urge to nest and get everything prepared before you're too pregnant to do anything, and tyler certainly wouldn't let you lift a finger when hes home.

you always dreamt of a beautiful old farmhouse like this all your life, but before you could move in tyler insisted on building a proper storm shelter to keep you safe.

you unpack some of the boxes of things you bought for the baby's room, sticking to yellows and oranges to keep everything brightly colored and cohesive, in contrast to the darkening sky.

you're not right in the path of tornados, but they have been known to swing up and hit the closest town every couple years.

you know the cloudy sky is just a result of all the activity further to the west where your husband currently is.

you look back to your phone, watching for a moment as his handsome face turns to look out the window. you can see the reflection of the twister in his eyes, a mix of awe struck and fear that any man within his right mind would feel.

“god-” you look up to the ceiling. you're not the biggest believer, but growing up in the south has you always reverting to whispering a prayer. “keep my husband safe.”

you let out a yawn as you adjust, not knowing for sure the sound that woke you up until you hear it again, your cellphone vibrating on the nightstand.

“hello?” your voice is groggy as you answer. you didn't bother to look at the contact name, there's only one person who would be calling you at this hour. “tyler?”

“baby, get to the storm shelter right now.”

“what?” the words have you instantly awake, hopping to your feet and looking out the window of your second story bedroom. “it looks fine.”

“im- just trust me! are you going?” you can hear the nerves in tyler's voice as well as the roaring of his truck no doubt speeding down the road.

“yes.” you confirm, grabbing one of tylers sweatshirts and slipping it over your head before finding a pair of shoes. “im going down the stairs right now.”

the second you step outside, you can feel the shift in the air.

“im tracking it on the data. we reported it but they said it's not on their maps as if our equipment isn't ten years newer.”

you listen to tylers rant as you round the house to pull open the storm shelter doors. it's not a glamorous area, small and tight but completely concrete and filled with a couple boxes of supplies.

“im in the shelter, ty.” you reassure him as you close the latch. “im safe. the babys safe.”

“it's building.” tyler says, no doubt looking at the radar or getting reports fed to him from boone. “im coming home to you, ill be there in two hours. fuck it, make it an hour and a half.”

“it's wednesday.” you state, although its just after midnight so technically thursday. “you said you weren't coming home until friday.”

“that was before a torando was gonna hit you. baby, i don't want you to go through this alone when you're pregnant.”

“ill be fine.” you reassure tyler. “but if you want to come back and make sure, you're more than welcome. like i said, i miss your lips.”

“gonna give you lots of kisses to make up for being gone.”

“i won't argue with that.” your phone beeps and you pull it away from your ear to realize you're losing service. “i think we are going to disconnect soon.”

“stay on as long as you possibly can.”

you try, but your phone beeps again and the call drops out.

sitting alone in the darkness heightens your other senses, feeling the cold air sneaking in through every available crack as your ears pick up the sound of the wind roaring.

you close your eyes and press your hands against your stomach, softly singing a nursery rhyme that your mother sung to you when you were a baby, your eyes sliding closed as you fall back asleep.

you're startled awake suddenly as the door rips open, only for tyler to quickly enter.

“is it over?” you ask, standing up and wobbling slightly. tyler grabs your hips, holding you up and looking at you up and down, his eyes examining you. you watch the stress and fear and anxiety melt away to be replaced with softness and love.

“it's over.” he confirms, tugging you in close.

“the house?”

“a busted window and a downed tree blocking the driveway. that's all.” tyler presses his nose into your hair, inhaling the scent.

“wasn't bad then.” you wrap your arms around his waist, enjoying the warm embrace.

“no, but i got so fucking scared knowing you were here all alone.” tyler pulls away only to help you up the stairs, hating seeing you confined to the shelter even if it is to keep you safe.

“i just… i can't do this while you're pregnant. i can't leave you here, or anywhere, alone knowing something could happen to you.”

tyler pulls his phone out of his pocket and navigates to his youtube channel, going live and waiting for a couple users to join.

he holds the camera up so he can see himself and you, his arm coming to wrap around your shoulders.

“as you folks know, my lovely wife here is pregnant with our first child. as much as i love tornado wrangling, i love my girl more. for the next six months im going to be taking a step back, but don't unsubscribe, boone is taking over to keep the excitement coming.”

he doesn't even say goodbye, simply ending the livestream, knowing one of his followers surely recorded it to spread the news around.

“ty, you didn't have to do that.”

“yes, i did.” tyler bends down to lift you up, carrying you across the threshold of your house just like he did the day you got married. “im gonna be with you throughout everything. tornados aren't more important than you.”

#this is purely self insert #like theres truly no reason for me to publish this when its just my fantasy #tyler owens fic #tyler owens fanfic #tyler owens fanction #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x you #tyler owens x y/n #tyler owens x oc #tyler owens imagine #tyler owens drabble #tyler owens one shot #tyler owens blurb #tyler owens twisters

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hyukascampfire · 5 months ago

Text

𝓖INGER & 𝓢NAP ` ꕀ. k.th

you were the last person taehyun expected to appear on his doorstep. sweet and fluffy and oh-so-proper; he never thought he’d see you again. but... there you stand. and, much to his own chagrin, he fears that nobody else could get him more bothered. ׄ ⋆ ִ

་༘ ՚՚ ꒰ 🪵 ꒱ ･ 7.9k

ρairings gingerbread!taehyun x frosty puff!reader

𝒢 ‧̥ smut, fantasy, strawberry shortcake au

⍵arnings brat taming, brat tamer!taehyun & brat!reader, his cum is frosting, creampie, ofc no sex ed in strawberryland, thigh riding, oral m!receiving, cumming into mouth, cum eating, corruption of innocence & innocent!reader, banter, chubby!reader and buff!taehyun, manhandling, he throws her around a bit and she's so into it, they don't like each other but also def do, he likes to teach her manners, reader is also spoiled & rich and taehyun is not, hair pulling, he gets mean, no protectiom, let me know if i missed some!

✎୭ ashlynn's note this collab has been seriously so fun. writing fics is fun, but there's something about talking your friends and scheming all the yummy ways you can incorporate certain things into your fic. @thetxtdevil mae baby, thank you so much for being the best and even coming up with this idea. your mind amazes me... like actually. everybody did so unbelievably good, and i'm blessed to have been a part of it. now... let's get foody and smutty lol. some of this was written in a benadryl haze, but that's the fun part. i'm sorry mine came out a lil later than everybody else's, but hopefully it's still fun!

... back to the masterlist ⌇ back to strawberryland

Raising your fist to the door, your knuckles rap against it with a few thick knocks. The door is frosted around the edges in little swirling white puffs of icing, framing the gingerbread door. It’s the same all around his house: gumdrops and candy canes and the like, all twinkling with sugar crystals.

It’s all so sweet—unbelievably so. The man that calls it home is the very antithesis of sweet. He does not take after the gumdrop, nor the sweetness of the icing, and most definitely not the brown sugar and molasses of the gingerbread. Taehyun is the quick snapping of a leg, or the sharpness on your tongue when you get to the cinnamon and nutmeg.

You loathe it. Even being stood here, knocking at his door, you hate. He is everything uncouth and abrasive—he is everything you should not entertain.

Here you are, entertaining it. The door swings open. Your fingers and toes have begun to slow with the cold, like frosty-whip in the fridge. Through the forest, stepping over sugar bushes and cocoa streams, you had fought the bite. Why did he have to live all the way out here? Secluded, as though the rest of Strawberryland were beneath his meddling. You know why: it’s that he believes it. He is exactly as your parents told you he’d be, all those years ago. Of course, they were right. They always are.

When he catches sight of you at his door, his distant eyes morph, and his lip tugs into a scowl. The rise of his brows ruffles your feathers with an infuriating ease. “Is there something you want?” he asks. His tone is infuriating, too. It’s the kind of question that means much more beyond the words said. You catch exactly what he means—how he intends to get under your skin.

Hidden behind the door, he has one hand on the handle. It's an unspoken thing, too. He wants you to remember that he could close it. You can’t let him, or else you’ll have drug your pretty new furry winter boots through the powdered snow for him to slam a door in your face. “Yeah, actually. There is.” You run preening fingers through the ends of your hair. “We’re partners for the bake-off.”

“I don’t do the bake-off,” he says. His eyes would be chocolate and smooth if it weren’t for the way he wields them sharp. “Sorry. You’re gonna have to find somebody more your speed for that.”

Barking an incredulous, perhaps even snobby, laugh, you look around. Snow comes down on the ground, sweet and creamy. It’d been enough of a battle to come here. If you were going to give up so easily, you would’ve turned your little bottom around perhaps two hours ago. Does he think you hadn’t considered that? It was a long walk; you had plenty of time to mull over the many things he might do. Sometimes, you imagined him diplomatic and affable. You stomped those wispy thoughts out. Perhaps it’s been years since you’ve spoken with him, and perhaps what happened between the two of you is dusted over, but you know better. Here he stands in front of you: bitter as ever.

“You’re just gonna leave me without a partner?” you say. Your jaw trembles, seized finally by the cold. “Everybody is already paired up. Literally everybody.”

Shrugging, he says, “I don’t see how that’s my problem. I didn’t sign up for it.”

Your brows knit. That means somebody else had signed him up. You have a sneaking suspicion who might’ve—Blueberry Kai always tells you that he just feels excluded. It’s hard not to laugh when he does. Taehyun? Excluded? He is exactly where he wants to be. Where most are sweet in Strawberryland, the snappy gingerbread finds it easier to justify his bitterness when he lives off in his little gingerbread home, out and away in his own neck of the forest only to be found by a winding gumdrop road, where he can pretend he’s above it all.

It’s entirely ironic. Him, better than you? Gingerbread, and all his ruggedness? His unpolished edges? Once, you’d believed that the two of you weren’t so different. That you could be friends, even. Seeing what he’s grown to be, you think you understand why your parents stepped in. Back then, though, as just that soft little girl who followed the charismatic boy around with crystal stars in your eyes, it had been the worst thing to ever happen to you. He had been so gravity-defying, moving through the soft, marshmallow edges and the sugar-whipped reality of Strawberryland as something different.

No. Not gravity-defying. Rather, in the powdery and sweet sweet Strawberryland, you think that he is the only thing with gravity.

“That’s not fair.”

“Not fair?” he echoes, letting a little patronizing laugh out along with it. “That’s sweet.”

It’s hard not to shift or cross your arms over your chest, abraded by the dripping sneer.

“What? It’s not. It’s not fair that, just because you don’t want to at least give it a try, I can’t participate,” you say. Really, you should just crawl back home and beg to join somebody’s duo, but you can’t lose like that. You can’t lose to him. If you leave it like this, then he’ll have gotten the better of you.

“Can’t get everything we want, huh?” he says, straightening up and taking the door in his hand once more. “Just because everybody else has bent backward to give you what you want doesn’t mean that I will.”

“Wait,” you say, sighing in a white swirl. “Don’t close the door. Don’t you know your manners? It’s rude. You’re just going to let me freeze out here? I walked all the way out here, and even got snow all over my new boots, just for this, just for you to slam a door in my face? I mean, a gentleman would at least invite me in to warm me up.”

Lips twitching into a laugh and his eyes suddenly alight, he says, “A gentleman, huh?” He pulls the door open a little further. The warmth from his home, warm and spiced and oh-so-inviting like oven-warmed gingerbread, brushes over your twinkling skin. “Sure. Show me your manners, then. I want you to ask me nicely.”

Your jaw tightens. Sending him a once over, sharpening your eyes, you decide to just do it. His tone is nasty, but you don’t want to be disqualified for not having a partner. Even if he’s the worst you could’ve been paired with in all of Strawberryland. Or maybe the best, because it’s a gingerbread house competition this year. “Will you just do it?”

“I said ask nicely. Say please.”

He wears a mean smile—he’s having fun watching you squirm. So, you make a conscious effort to straighten up. “Will you please be my partner for the competition?” you say, making your voice sugary and batting your eyelashes in an overdone way. He thinks he’s funny.

Stepping out of the doorway, he motions you inside. It might look gentlemanly if it weren't for the sting in his eyes. You swallow down petty words and push through, your arms full with supplies. Arms aching, you finally let them clatter down over the countertop. The inside of his home is fresh-baked and spiced, aromatic like a true gingerbread cookie straight from the oven. You’re sure the glowing fire helps carry the smell in warm air. It wraps your cold bones up and smooths over some of the frayed edges. You’d been out there for so long… Nobody else had to walk that far for their partner.

Better just to get this done as quickly as you can. You just have to put up with him today, and you’ll be done, and then you can have fun with the competition. He won’t even show up for it; you’re sure.

“I’ll do it all if it’s that big of a deal,” you tell him, laying out the walls and warming the icing between your palms. “You can put the peppermint on, I guess. So then we can say we both worked on it.”

Hair the fluffy brown of true gingerbread and dusted with snowflakes like powdered sugar. Taehyun shakes his head, and it moves with him. “No,” he says, the corners of his lips still turned up as though he knows something you don’t. He rolls the sleeves of his gaudy, knitted Christmas sweater up to his elbows. The corded muscle there, flickering with movement, catches you off guard. Gingerbread, built like that? Tearing your eyes off him with the effort of metal tearing itself from a magnet, you watch him approach the kitchen counters. “I’ll help. We’re partners, right?”

No matter what he says, there’s a twist of something sparkling in those sharp eyes that has you watching him closer—has you trying to gauge exactly what he’s playing at. “Uh… Yeah. Sure. If you want to, I guess.” You gesture at the walls. “Two for us, and ten for display. Can you start the walls?”

“Ten?” he says. “We’re making twelve gingerbread houses?”

With your lips pulled taut, you say, “Yeah… Twelve. Is that too much? I didn’t think any amount of gingerbread houses would be too much for you. That’s a little ironic.” Everything is warm in his home—even when you look down at your own hands to tug off your white woolen gloves, your skin that usually sparkles like frost rests just beneath the surface is tinged with the warmth.

“I can handle it just fine,” he says, taking the wall and base sections of one. “Just wouldn’t want you to ruin your pretty outfit. Twelve is a lot of icing.” He spits the word pretty out like it tastes bad. On his tongue, you’re sure it does. He never cared for pretty things the way you do. Your mommy always said that he was just jealous, but when the both of you were little, before your parents’ meddling, you learned that it was just a different lifestyle. One that you don’t understand, perhaps. Who doesn’t enjoy dressing themselves in lush furs and sugar crystals over their necks?

“I’ll be fine,” you say, snipping the tip of the piping bag open. “I wore these knowing they’d get dirty. They’re my baking clothes. My boots already got all messed up…”

“Oh,” he says. “You put on cashmere knowing you’ll get it dirty. Mommy and daddy paid a pretty penny for that, huh? And it’s your throwaway outfit?”

“Look. If you like it so much, I’ll let you have it when we’re done, yeah? Maybe you’ll make a pretty penny off selling it.” You ice a warm white line down the length of a wall. “Can you hurry? I’m already icing. I don’t want to be here all day.”

There’s a few long, thrumming moments of quiet, where only the sound of your piping back crackling fills his home. Finishing a wall, you tear yourself away from your work to spare a glance his way.

Taehyun’s jaw is tight, a muscle flickering where he grits his jaw in the low light that washes over him. There’s a fire blazing in his eyes, and though he doesn’t turn them on you, the smoke rolling from them is enough to make your skin warm. You’d successfully gotten under his skin. Why stop here, when seeing that look on his face is so fun? He looks as sour as an apple; as spiced as cinnamon. “Wall?” you say, sharp and haughty as you offer your hand out to him in an impatient demand.

Snapping his head up, he hands you a wall with the heat of a thousand ovens in his face. You feel the scald he intends for you with it, and you revel in it.

You bark commands at him, watching his shoulders grow tense and his lips twitch with each. Crush the candy canes, you tell him. Melt the icing. Sprinkle these over that. Soon enough, you’re sitting back and watching him work more than anything.

He doesn’t say a word. You see them brimming in his eyes, but he doesn’t let them burst out all venomous like you know he wants to. It’s quite the show.

“Would you at least help me hold this up?” he says, holding the walls of a house together with one hand. His hands are a mess of runny sugar and powdered sugar for snow, and yours are perfectly clean. You can at least help a little bit if you want to claim any part in the competition.

You reach for the piping bag, fat with the sweet sweet icing, and straighten a wall up. You trace the seams with it, thick and like glue. With a bit too much pressure, the side of the bag bursts. White rivulets of slow icing run down your fingers and over the table. You curse, dropping it to the counter. That’s all of your icing, flopped down and deflating over the surface all sad-like. It’d been so much, that you thought it would last you each house and then some. Of course, you hadn’t brought extra.

Bringing your sticky fingers up to your mouth, you suckle the mess off. It’s so very sweet—warm and weeping, nutty and spiced with something like nutmeg. It’s Taehyun: the smell of it, the way it spreads over your tongue… You stick your tongue out to catch it where some drips down your forearm. “Mmm,” you say, sticky-armed. “Tastes good.” That’ll be good on the gingerbread houses; maybe the two of you do have a chance at winning.

When you look up to Taehyun, he stands frozen in place, his hands still holding up a half-constructed gingerbread house. His eyes are different. It’s a look you don’t recognize—a look you’ve never seen before. Rather than deep and warm, his eyes are blackish and heavy. A swallow goes down his throat; a tense, barely contained thing.

You frown, your lips still a sugary mess. “I didn’t mean to make a mess. Sorry. I’ll clean it up…”

Clearing his throat, Taehyun says, “Yeah…”

He watches you clean the counters, where the icing had pooled, and now the bag is empty, with the same intensity. You can feel it on your skin in a foreign, itching way. You swipe and scoop and work at the spill, and still, he watches. He does not speak.

You survey the houses you’ve managed to finish. They’re pretty, and absolutely competition ready: looping swirls of icing like shingles on the roofs, peppermint chunks all red and white catching light where you’d sprinkled them into the frosting, gumdrops lining the paths true to Taehyun’s own home, and powdered sugar sifted over the entirety of it like snowfall. It’s all great, but there are only four. “What are we supposed to do now?” you say, lips pouty. “That’s all the icing I brought. We literally can’t make any more.” You wipe at a smear on your cheek. How’d that get there? “I think I’m gonna have to come back tomorrow… Can you hold on to the houses for me?”

“Yeah—yeah, sure. Tomorrow,” he says, blinking something away. He straightens. “It’s a long walk. I think you should get going.”

You want to say something snarky or ask him why he wants you out of the house so fast, but it’s true. Night’s creeping over Strawberryland, and you have no icing, and tomorrow’s the last day before the bake-off. If the two of you don’t work harder tomorrow than you did today, then you won’t even make qualifications. You’ll lose before even starting.

You never lose. Not like this, and certainly not to the man standing before you.

ꕀ

“C’mon. You can do better than that, can’t you?” Taehyun says, drooping icing from rooftops like icicles as you sprinkle crushed candies over the top.

You grit your teeth. If he’d been snappy yesterday, he’s made it his mission to be your worst nightmare today. You think it’s his sort of revenge for ordering him around how you did. “What would you like, then?” you say. Maybe it’s feeding right into what he wants, but your life has lent you a short fuse. “You don’t even care about winning. Why does it matter? Let me do it how I want.”

He’s in another sweater. The sleeves are bunched up to the elbow just like yesterday, but you think he’s making a point with it this time. The shifting of his muscles is a bit too intense for piping icing. You’d made it through three more houses, wrangling your inner demons with each passing snide remark or nasty smile the whole time. It doesn’t help that he keeps his home terribly toasty, and you run cold down to the core. You melt and melt until all that is left of your temper is a puddle on the floor beneath you. Gone.

“We’re partners, remember?” he says. He doesn’t even look at you as he says it. “I don’t do things half-assed, Frosty.”

You’re sent reeling with the old nickname. It’d been sweet then, back when it was just the two of you against the world, but now it’s gone sour like milk. It even comes from his mouth soured. It’s something that you thought you’d left a million lifetimes ago, never to hear again. With Taehyun, though, it’s hard to pretend that you are no longer that.

He will not let you forget that, at one point, the two of you were friends. An unlikely pair, especially looking at you now. You thought it was all nothing to you, but seeing him has kicked up dust.

“You don’t?” you say, shooting him a quick glare from the side of your eye. “That’s funny.”

Strong brows shooting up, Taehyun quits mid-piping to look at you. “Funny? What’s funny about it to you?”

You can’t settle the obnoxious smile that curls at the edges of your mouth, mean and taunting and falsely sweet. “Oh, nothing.” You shake a sifter full of powder against your palm. It falls like true snow down over the house.

“No, tell me,” he says, his eyes trained and heavy on your dismissive shrug. “Tell me what you think of me. I wanna hear it.”

Oh, this will be good.

“It’s just that,” you say, “you’re not really known for doing things the best way, you know? Living all the way out here, an ass when anybody tries to talk to you… Well, really, it’s just that nobody likes you. But, don’t worry! I’m sure there’s at least somebody that does.”

His face falls, the twinkle of delight at taunting you that he’d been holding in his eyes gone away. All that’s left is the peaking of something deeper and roiling from out of the cracks. You get the funny feeling that maybe you’ve taken it a step too far.

But, you never lose.

“Is that what it is?” he says. “I work for my shit. You? Everything you’ve ever had has been handed to you.” He measures his words delicately. Like a measuring cup full over the top, he cuts the excess words and coarseness off. He doesn’t say all that he thinks, but you see all he leaves unsaid toiling furiously behind his eyes.

His eyes. They’re clear and, sharp as they are, they pin you. It’s a reflection of that look he gave you yesterday: deep and swirling and wild. It’s more than that, this time, though. It’s laced with anger and bursting at the seams of him. You’re not sure he’ll be able to hold back whatever it is that storms just beneath his skin, this time.

“It is,” you say, punctuation your words concisely. “It’s exactly why my parents said I shouldn’t hang out with you. They said that I’m above… all this.”

Oh, you’ve absolutely taken it too far now. You don’t really mean it. Sure, that’s what they told you, but you don’t really believe it. For some time, you did, but not now. It’s too late for sorries, though. Taehyun’s jaw goes tense.

For a long, awful moment, you just stand there and burn in his silence. It’s worse than any words he might spit. It’s hot—hot, hot, hot, and you turn liquid in it.

In a blink, nothing more, you collide against his countertop. Something clatters and thuds behind you. The gingerbread houses? That doesn’t matter right now—all that your dizzy mind can manage is his body crushing you and his fingers biting into the plush of your cheeks.

Where he had fractured, like true gingerbread, he snaps. You can see it in his eyes; even you know when you’ve pushed too far. Perhaps you ought to have seen this coming.

His knuckles curl white around the edge of the counter beside you, and his fingers dig deeper into your face. He’s oh-so-hot up against you. “I’m sick of your fucking mouth,” he snarls. His breath is hot as it fans over your face, too. “Someone needs to put you in your place. Where are your goddamn manners?”

Your heart thrums in your chest, and your pulse goes wild in your neck. You can’t form the words to answer him.

“Quiet now, huh?” he says. The husk in it makes the place between your thighs feel weird. You don’t know what’s wrong with you.

He shut you up real quick. You’ll give him that.

That funny feeling does flips, roaring to life when his fingers hook under the waistband of your bottoms. “That’s your problem.” His eyes send a chill up and down your spine. “You’ve never been told no. You’ve always gotten what you wanted.” Peeling down all the layers, he tugs your knitted stockings and your little fur skirt, and your sweet frosty panties, too. They bunch at your feet. Between your thighs, right where those foreign, throbbing waves reign, cool air laps at a wetness there. The hair all over your body rises. You’ve never felt anything like it. “Not with me. I'll set you straight. I don’t put up with spoiled brats.”

“I’m not a brat,” you say. “You’re just an ass.” They’re the first words that come to you. Damn your temper.

With the same hand he’d been holding your face in place with, he curls his fingers right into your scalp and yanks hard, baring your neck to him. You lose a strained squeak, tears pricking the corners of your eyes at the sting. If your heart had been racing before, it runs wild, now. You strain your eyes to look at him and his curled lips. Painted with a sneer, he says, “Watch your mouth.”

A swallow goes down your throat hard. It’s all unfamiliar: the aching between your thighs, the burning in your blood, and the dazing of your thoughts. “Taehyun, I… I feel weird. It feels weird.”

Something knowing passes over him. “Yeah?” he says. “Show me where. I can help.”

Show him? You hesitate, searching his eyes for an ounce of joke or aversion. You find none, and that pounding is syrupy-sweet, and he says he can help. That’s all you want; all you need. Taking a trembling hand, you bring it down your body, running the palm down the planes of your belly and resting it just over the spot where the lower bit gives way to the apex of your thighs. Going any further—the thought tightens your throat and pinkens your cheeks the color of strawberry frosting. “There. It feels weird there.”

Taehyun smiles a snappy, spiced smile. He likes that. “Want me to make it feel better?”

Your thoughts feel replaced by something powdery and weightless. You give him a dumb nod.

“Say please.”

Something bratty crawls up your throat, but you want help, and he’s the one who will give it to you. He’d meant that: teaching you a lesson. Melted around the edges already, you say, “Please, help make it feel better.” Your voice wavers.

“There we go. That’s how good girls talk. That’s how you ask to get what you want.” He nudges your thighs apart with a knee and slots it between them, pressed right up against that coolness. Right up against that need. “Grind down on it.”

Neck aching at the angle, you say, “Grind?”

He brushes his clothed thigh right up against you. The friction is delicious—sweet and melty and just what you need. It shoots yellow sparks throughout you.

It feels so good. Your mouth waters in anticipation.

“Grind,” he says. It’s harder, this time. Not a sweet suggestion.

You bring yourself back down on it, gasping at the contact, and you do. You grind, tummy tightening at every brush of the fabric hard and delicious. Your chest constricts, one hand flying up to dig your fingers into his shoulder and the other fighting the hand he has still in your hair. It aches and hurts, and so does the friction as you grow more gaspy and frantic.

It feels so, so good. You want more—you want him to touch you there and everywhere else. He smells just right all over you, nutty and musky like a gingerbread twist. “Taeh—hyun,” you mewl. It burns, but something slick eases the burn a little bit. Just enough for you to enjoy that burn.

“That’s it,” he coos. It’s not a sweet coo; it’s the type of sound one might make when you play right into their mean game. It’s mean. “Make yourself a mess on my thigh. I don’t even have to touch you. What would mommy and daddy think of you now, huh? What would they think if they saw their precious princess fucking herself on my thigh?”

No. That would be the end of you. You whine, thighs twitching. Something twists in your center, scary and foreboding, and still you chase it. None of your thoughts are solid enough to stop. Each time he flexes a muscled thigh or presses it harder into you, you shudder and curl your fingers into his shirt harder.

“Don’t like that, huh?” he laughs. “Then you haven’t learned your lesson. You’re no better than me; I mean, look at you.”

You want to cry when he pins your hips back to the counter, stilling your wild bucking. Squeezing your eyes shut, you claw and reach for that wave, even as it recedes from you. “Why?” you say, voice thin. It’d been so yummy—the sweetness still rests on your tongue. Your heart thumps hard, longing for it.

“I said, look at yourself,” he growls, taking his hold on your hair to crank your head down.

Right where you’d been on his thigh, there’s a sticky, marshmallowy mess. Your mess.

Taehyun releasing his grip on your hair is almost a relief, but he doesn’t even give you time to relish it. The walls of his house blur around you. All that you register in between the motions is his shoulder in your belly and your limbs dangling from you. You dig your hands into his back to balance yourself, but he’s got you.

He has you slung over his shoulder. He’s carrying you like you weigh nothing at all. That place between your thighs flutters anew. In all your life, you never worried too much about the plushness of your belly or your thighs. It is who you are; all mallow and soft around the edges and starkly sweet. But you did get nervous when somebody tried picking you up. Usually, you protest and giggle it off. Watching somebody strain to pick you up when they lift other girls like sacks of flour is just something that makes you feel a little strange.

But, Taehyun does not strain. He doesn’t huff; he carries you right down the hallway and into his room, and he even manhandles you down onto the bed with a bounce without so much as a sound. He is a solid pillar beneath you, and then he is a solid, muscled chest above you. With strong fingers, he pins your hands to the mattress above you. With the other, he leads your shirt up.

He’s so warm against your cold skin. His breath like waves from the oven over your mouth, he says, “You think you’re so much better than me because you have all this?” Curling his fingers around a necklace circling your throat, he tears it off with a clattering of a few snow-drop beads.

You gasp, glaring right into his eyes. “What the hell?” you hiss, arching your chest to wiggle beneath him. Your necklace. Who does he think he is, breaking your stuff? That was one of your favorite necklaces, and now it lies all over his floor. Still, your center pounds and longs for the return of his touch. Everything about him just calls for more from you. You don’t know how you went so long without him, or how you made yourself forget just how drawn you are to his magnetism. Maybe he is just what your parents turn their nose up at, and you too, but that does not make him any less a powerful personality.

He knows exactly who he is and what he wants, as solid as the gingerbread cookie. And you, plush and impressionable as whipped marshmallows, take to him just right. It’s something you once knew, but the sneered words of adults obscured that memory.

“Don’t whine,” he says. “I want to see your pretty neck without all that shit. That’s your problem: you’re spoiled.” He reaches down to mess with his pants.

His length springs free. Cheeks flushing, you take it in. You can’t look away, even as embarrassment crawls spindly legs over your skin at the interest you take in the sight. You’ve never seen anything like it—long and hot and weeping something thick and white from the slit at the pinkish tip. A pearl of it dribbles down, landing on your belly in a string where he holds it.

Taehyun collects that wetness and then urges more from the tip with a few drags down the length of it. Wrapping his fingers around it, he begins to slowly work his fist up and down it. It’s nothing short of impossible to tear your sights off it—it’s another thing that inexplicably fans the flames of something roaring in your center. “Do you want to touch it?” he says, watching your tongue dart out to wet your lips.

The sight of him growing restless over his pumping fist is enough to get you nodding.

“Fuck,” he says, sharp and under his breath. He lets his hand off it. “Go ahead. Touch it. I won’t tell anybody you did.”

When he frees your pinned wrists, you reach out a slow hand. You curl your fingers around it the way he had. Your fingers don’t even touch around jt. The weight and warmth of him in your palm makes your blood tingle. Looking up, you search for guidance in those intelligent, swirling eyes. His bangs hang over his eyes as he watches.

Placing his hand over yours, he drags it up and down his rigid length the way he had been doing a few beats ago. “Like that,” he says. “Just like that.”

You pump your closed fist up and down him, encouraged to squeeze harder and flick your wrist faster with each tight breath he lets slip. The skin of your palm gets stickier and stickier, the slick sounds sending your ears and core burning just the same. You like that it makes him feel good—that he’s making those noises just for you.

He twitches under your fingers. “Feels just like I thought your pretty hands would…” he says, stomach tight. “See—what happens when you give up that bratty fucking act? Shit… harder—give it to me harder, Frosty…” Shivering at the name, you oblige him. You reach your thumb up and collect more of that beaded liquid from the slit, and you work your arm harder. Faster. Your forearm begins to burn, but you don’t let it slow you. All you want is more of this; more of him. Finally, he lets sounds out from his chest freely. He grunts and hisses through his teeth, letting his head fall back. ��Holy shit. I’m gonna—gonna ice your face, okay?” he says. “You said you liked the taste, huh? Wanna taste it again? Give me your tongue…”

Whatever that means, you push yourself up and situate your face in front of his length, your tongue out. Taehyun’s sounds tighten, and his hips begin to stutter and chase your hand. He picks his head back up to look down at you half-lidded—to watch. With only a few last runs of your palm down his length, skin so slick that your hand just slips and slides up him, he growls through gritted teeth. The weight of him in your working hand twitches once more, and from that weeping tip he shoots dancing ribbons of white. It lands on your tongue hot and sweet, melting out all spiced and snappy.

Snappy like gingerbread. Like gingerbread icing. Swallowing it down, you meet his gaze. He pants, chest rising and falling, but there’s something clear and knowing in his heavy eyes when you do. You think you know now, why he’d been so dazed as you made a show of licking that same sticky icing off your hands and said how good it tasted.

When you release him from your palm, it glistens with his sweet essence. He softens in front of your eyes just the littlest bit.

Eyes just as hungry and still catching his breath, Taehyun says, “Open your mouth. I wanna see your tongue.”

Belly doing wicked twists, you do. You stick your tongue out for him, still laden with the headiness of his taste. He does taste good.

“Swallowed it all down?” he says, eating the sight of you with your mouth dropped open up. “You really are so nasty. They all think you’re so sweet—you think you’ve got them all wrapped around your finger.” He pushes you back down to the bed with a palm. “Well, not me. I know that you’re just as filthy as you are spoiled. Somebody had to deal with you.”

Like always, snarky words swirl in your mouth. All it would take is letting them fall off your tongue. But you don’t—not with the feeling between your thighs, and not with the way your blood, frost turned to snowmelt, begs for him to fix it. Not when you know that all it will get you is more of Taehyun’s wrath.

It’s not like what he says is true, or anything. That’s what you tell yourself anyway.

“Taehyun, please. I need it…” He takes a marshmallow thigh of yours, pressing it up so that it melds with your belly. Cool air reminds you once more of that strange wetness between them.

Dark, blown eyes catching the sight of it, his lips quirk into a scoff. “Need what?” he says, reaching a hand down. At the contact of his fingers, just as they had against his thigh, your hips jolt and an explosion like the breaking of sugar glass shoots down the muscles of your thighs. He scoops that stickiness up from its source, bringing the soft cream up to his mouth. Tongue darting out, he has a taste of you just as you had tasted him. “Shit—you taste good too, frosty. You’re so sweet, how’d you turn out like this? That’s okay. I’ll deal with you, and then you’ll be just as sweet as you taste.” That fat tip of him presses flush to the source of all your want. “I’ll straighten you out.”

You don’t know what that means, and you are absolutely sure that you don’t deserve it, but any sass is staunched with the utter sweetness of the stretch in your center. Taehyun presses his hips up into you, slowly and internalizing the dropping open of your mouth, the pinching of your brows into a worrying line, and the press of your palms to his broad chest. He takes it and metabolizes it down like cream cake or the plumpest fruits, and he gives you more. More, all the way up until there is no length of him left to give, and nowhere else for him to go.

You feel so, so full. No amount of twinkling jewels or new skirts hold a candle to this. You don’t know what it is, and you don’t know why Taehyun knows, but whatever. Who cares? Breathing out a shudder, you squirm beneath him to search for that dazzling feeling he’d made you feel earlier.

“Stay still,” he barks, steadying himself beside your head with a sturdy, powerful arm. When had he lost his sweater? You don’t know. You might drool over the definition and warm skin there if he didn’t pull the length of him out until just the tip of him threatens to pop out, and then drive right back in before you could. A gaspy breath falls from your mouth, devolving into mewls and whimpers when he does the same over and over and over again, quick with snapping hips and the smacking of his skin against the soft skin of your bottom. Your thigh quivers in his hold, his fingers digging into the fluff of your thigh as he holds you into it.

Each and every time he slides up against something inside you that makes you feel different. Different from what you felt when you were on his thigh, and different from anything else you’ve felt in the entirety of your life. It’s deeper, right at the very bottom of your belly, sending your veins lazy and your hips twitchy. You want to chase it as much as you want to hide from its power, so all you do is stay in a hazy limbo of sharp gasps and long, drawn out mewls for more.

“No,” he says, his face right in yours. The smell of him, manly and so very sweet like oven-warmed gingerbread, settles over your bones and wiggles its way through your thoughts. It does something to your melted mind, planting a need to cling to him right in the center. Your hands perch all over him: the hair at the back of his head, his working waist, his biceps that flex and strain with his effort, and finally around him so that you can push your cheek to his chest and feel his heart racing there. “You’ll take exactly what I give, and thank me for it. You don’t get to ask for more; not with your mouth.”

“Why?” you say, whining. “I want it—so bad. Please? I’ll be so… so good…” Your voice bounces with each collision of your bodies, and your toes flex and curl at the twisting in your core. Nonetheless, you want more. Whatever this is—this syrupy, pure goodness—Taehyun has shown you something that you will never be whole without again. He has bloomed a flower right in the chest of you, something hungry that will want and want this, and you fear that he will be the only one able to satiate it.

The thought of the smile he’ll wear, should you come crawling back to his doorstep just for this…

Taehyun stops, pushing off you with a curled lip. “What will it take to get you to fucking listen?” he says. He pulls himself from you, leaving you to whine and long for that feeling once more. You want to complain and pull him back over you, but with the fire churning in his dark gaze and the sight of his length, covered in that same white, whipped stuff you’d left all over his thigh.

You’d made a sticky, frosty, frothed mess all over him once again. Really, what would people think of you now? Your mom? Your dad?

Manhandling you again, he flips you onto your hands and knees and shoves your face into the bed. Any yelp or gasp that tears from your chest is muffled into the sheets. Taking the swell of your hips, his fingers like bites against the powdery, soft skin there, his voice comes from behind you. “Won’t you just listen to me? If you’re gonna be mine, you’re gonna have to start learning how to hear no.” Curling your hair up and pulling it like a handle, he snaps your head back into another stinging, awful tug. It turns the arch of your back into something that you can imagine is a sight to be seen. If the burning where you feel his eyes raking down the curve of it has something to speak of it, that is. You squeeze your eyes shut as if that’ll help you any. “You don’t get everything you want. That’s not how this works.”

You don’t say anything. You have nothing good or sweet left to say.

“Say thank you, and I’ll give it to you good, okay?” he says, running a flattened hand down your spine. “That’s all I want to hear. Show me you can be good.”

The last thing you want to do is to thank him. That would mean admitting that you’ve lost, and that ruffles your preening feathers. But you want that goodness back, you want his hips snapping into you and that tight knot back in your belly. You’d do anything for it; even forget your ego.

Your mind is gone, anyway. Whatever your rational self would do, it doesn’t matter. There’s one thing that you want right now, and getting it is so easy. “Thank you, Taehyun. Thank you so much… I’m sorry I’ve been a brat, and I’m sorry about what I said to you. Please, just… help me. Please, I need you so bad.”

You? Sorry? It’s absurd, and yet, you entirely mean it. Maybe it’s your lazy brain talking, or maybe he really has won.

“See? So sweet when you act right,” he says. “Let me show you what happens when you do.”

You could cry real tears when he sets that same pace, his hands bracing on your hips to pull you deeper into each thrust and the front of your body bouncing against the sheets with each. Your cries grow hoarse and beyond needy, and your insides twist and turn even more dangerously.

You are on the brink of something divine. Something that will melt down so well, good on the tongue and as smooth as chocolate, but as sharp as the snapping of gingerbread.

And, snap, he has.

“Yes!” you cry, straining your shoulders as you reach behind you and curl your fingers around the place where he meets your skin. “S..So good! Right there—thank you, Taehyun!”

He doubles down on you. His length hits a spongy spot in your core, pounding up against the walls there and turning your insides against you. It’s almost too good. “There we go,” he says, voice shaking with a growl. The delivery of his thrusts grows sloppy. You think he feels just as good as you do. “That’s what—” Falling over you, he supports himself with each strong arm dug into the mattress beside your head, his solid front melded to your soft back. “That’s what I like to hear. Here you go—fuck, I’m gonna give you what good girls get, okay?”

You hope it’s more of that melty icing he shot from his length earlier. The knot in your belly tightens, just on the brink of a glittery, bright explosion. “Mhm!” you say, your voice cracking. You want it—you want it so bad. The intensity of it, turning over in your veins and rendering your thighs jelly, sings in your ears. It’s a frightening greatness, but you rage against the urge to drop your hips into the mattress and run from it. You need to finally taste what you’ve been chasing. “Taehyun! Right there—please, don’t stop!”

You were demanding more from him again, but Taehyun didn’t stop this time. Not when his growls and whines against your shoulder tell you enough about how he’s feeling. He tongues and nips at your shoulders, the only sounds echoing off the walls of his room, the hollow smack of his hips against your bottom, and the only smell of the sweet mingling of his gingerbread sharpness against your heady marshmallow. It’s good enough to eat.

Crying out with a frantic whine, the feeling deep in your belly changes once more, and you’re writhing and squirming against him. Your hips buck and chase and run, wild and just as explosively as the tightness shooting down your thighs and up through your lower back.

Everywhere. You feel it everywhere. It’s in the continued bouncing of your body, in each nudge of his tip to a sweet, spongecake spot deep inside you, in his breathless pants into your skin, and in the curling of his fingers into your hair when he releases a hip to do so, and in your pleads when he chases his own delicious release. Your throat tightens, and suddenly the sheets are all too warm around you, and you realize with blistering intensity that another one of those knots builds up in your belly. It’s quicker, short, and bright. You’ve barely even made it through the last, but still, it comes.

“Holy shit,” he growls, hips stuttering and then stilling. He reaches a hand down between your thighs and finds a very sweet button. The breath in your throat catches, and in nothing more than a blink of an eye, you crash again, and then your bodies are two twitching, elated things. He presses himself impossibly deeper into you before shooting that same hotness, sweet ropes of sugary icing right into you, and your fluttering insides hold him tight and eat it up. Your heart pounds in your chest, running amok in your ears and your neck, and you try to catch running breaths to no avail.

Occasionally grinding up into you, though there is hardly any space between your joined bodies to do so, Taehyun shoots more lazy spurts for a few long moments. His breaths slow against your skin, and yours do in your chest. Slowly, you recover as two entangled bodies, all clammy and melted like left in the oven for a bit too long.

Pressing hot, wet kisses to the back of your neck, and then down your spine when he pushes off you and pulls himself out, his tongue darting out against your skin for some, he says, “Taste so good… So sweet, even on your skin…” He brushes the wild tangles of hair from your face and adds, “I wonder if you’ve gone all sweet inside, too? You look like it…” The mess of you, your thick creaminess staining your thighs and his runny load pooling from your hole, is all over. It even makes the sheets beneath you dirty with dribbles of his release as it drips. “I told you I’d get you sweet.”

If that sluggish, sugary thing moving through your veins is sweetness taking over you from the inside, perhaps you have gone sweet. Or, perhaps you now have every reason to become his worst nightmare—just if it gets you this.

You’ll play sweet for now. The softer kisses he seasons your skin with are no less enthralling than the delightful goodness still ebbing away between your thighs. You think that, for the first time, you have lost.

And, to your very own dismay, it tastes so very sweet.

... back to the masterlist ⌇ back to strawberryland

✎୭ ashlynn's note BRAT TAMER TAEHUN, amirite?

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