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miam0re · 2 years

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Getting Caught Making Out | Tears of Themis

Warning: SFW, Making out, hickies, more stuff(???)

Pairing: Artem, Luke, Marius, Vyn, Rosa X Fem!Reader (Separate)

Mia’s notes: This story went through so many changes, literally it is a mix of Getting caught+Leaving a hickey on you+Their opinion on PDA. I just gave up and stuck to Getting Caught. Also this is my first FxF write up! It’s not a full fiction, but it is a starting and I am proud of myself uwu Good thing I had this in my drafts huh. I'll write more when I feel better uwu Happy reading loves.

WC: 0.8k per character

Artem values his privacy. He usually wouldn’t choose to engage in any intimate activity anywhere apart from your apartment or his.

Maybe a simple kiss on the cheek or your hand, or when he’s feeling a little bold, he’ll peck your lips and then whip his head away, a pretty red blush settling on his face.

You didn’t mind. Artem loved you and he expressed so in own ways.

But it seemed like he was the one who started to mind that.

The man who used romance movies and psychology books as reference and guidance for his own love life was bound to come across the concept of ‘Public Display of Affection.’

The lead female blushed profusely when the lead male pinned her to her private office’s desk and kisser her passionately. Do you want Artem to do the same?

So he thought to himself, maybe one little kiss in his office would be nice for the both of you. He’d be kissing you in public while avoiding the public. You would probably like that, wouldn’t you?

If only sweet Artem had kept in mind how addicted he was to your kisses. One touch and he was a goner.

The pen stand on Artem’s desk rattled when your hips collided with the edge of the desk, a strangled moan escaping your lips at the force of the impact.

He pulled away from your kiss swollen lips, eyes boring into yours. “Sorry.” He muttered out before devouring your lips in a kiss once again, mercilessly sucking on your bottom lip. His hands roamed your sides, finding home on your hips.

It was like Artem was drunk on the taste of your lips, the feel of your body in his arms. He couldn’t seem to get enough, losing any drop of rationality he had.

“Artem…you said one kiss…” You whimpered when he pulled away to trail his lips down your neck. With a hum to your skin, he replied. “I haven’t stopped yet. This counts as that one kiss.” The adrenaline pumping through his veins gave him a courage he’d never felt before, and it was exciting.

Unfortunately, all the excitement in his flew out when the frosted glass door to his office flung open and Celestine walked in on the two of you. Artem quickly lifted his head from your neck, glancing at the intruder.

“Celestine!” He squeak and then coughed to cover up the crack in his voice, subconsciously reaching his fingers up to fix his tie. “Do you need something?” He asked, knowing full well that he would be subject to a huge amount of teasing once you leave. His fingers brushed back his hair, trying to fix the mess caused by your fingers tugging at his locks.

You pushed yourself from the table and stood behind Artem, letting him fail at handling the situation while you fixed your shirt.

When you peek from the side of his arm, you caught sight of the woman's cheeky smirk, eyes jumping between you and your boyfriend.

“Oh right. Y/N, the meeting regarding the last case is starting soon, you should probably head on since Rosa is waiting. And Artem, board meeting in 10. They want you there.” Her eyes glimmered in mischief as you shuffled towards the door with your head down, mumbling a quick ‘bye bye’ to them.

Celestine grabbed your shoulders and pulled the collar of your shirt up, hiding a red blotch that Artem so carelessly left on your soft skin. “Aren’t you going to kiss your boyfriend goodbye Y/N?” Celestine teased, looking at Artem from the corner of her eye. The way his ears turned red as his fingers rested on the bridge of his nose was a sight to see.

Your eyes widened in bafflement…but you couldn’t deny to desire to do so. Quickly, you darted to him, pulling him down by his tie to plant your lips against his burning cheek, and then sprinted out of the room. In that moment, you were no slower than the Flash.

And then there was silence, Artem cursing himself internally for getting carried away, as he fixed himself up as best as he could. Celestine giggled and walked to him, flattening out his blazer. Her eyes tried making contact with his cyan orbs, but he kept dodging her gaze.

“Artem.”

“Please don’t say anything.”

“I’m proud of you. You finally did something risky, huh?”

“Please, Celestine.”

“You even left a hickey!”

“Please just shut up.”

Luke is more confident when it comes to your relationship, but he is also very respectful; of you and of others.

Maybe that old lady standing over there wouldn’t appreciate him devouring your mouth in a kiss in the middle of the mall, or that child will get disgusting and her parents will glare daggers at you both.

Which is why his kisses are soft and sweet.

Fingers cradling your face with such gentleness, you’d think he just came back from holding the clouds and lips just brushing on top of yours in sweet adoration.

But sometimes he can’t help but kiss you like he’s never before. Seeing your beautiful smile and your eyes glazing into his, brimming with love, it makes his heart race as he takes quick strides towards you.

Every passionate kiss he presses to your lips makes you dizzy.

But maybe the store lobby wasn’t the best place to start this, even though if it was his own store.

“Luke…” Your voice is small as your mouth is covered with his lips moving against yours in a desperate pace. When he parted from your lips to catch his breath, you could see the ruby red of his irises peek between his half closed eyes, nothing but love swirling in them.

When he kissed you again, he pushed you softly against a display cabinet, careful to not hurt you with his grip on your waist, knowing how his strength can get the better of him sometimes. His fingers lifted you chin in the perfect angle for him so mould his lips against yours.

You carded your hands through his hair, holding him tightly when he pulled away to ghost kisses down your cheeks to your throat. “How…are you…so…beautiful?” He commented in between kisses and lick to your delicate skin, taking pride in the way you shivered and sighed loudly.

The store bell jingled loudly, making Luke squeak and jump back from you, his back hitting a display shelf. Dramatically the shelf shook, but thankfully it came to a still after swaying.

“Hi Luke. Y/N.” That familiar cheeky voice came from the door and the both of you turned to look at the intruder. “Maruis, Rosa, it’s good to see you.” You blushed, trying so hard to look normal and slow down your racing heart.

Luke on the other hand was quite composed, minus the blooming red blush on his cheeks. His training must have really taught him how to exercise his poker face. But Mr. Von Hagen was going to have those walls broken down.

“Ya know, if you both want to make out, at least do it somewhere more private.” The raven haired boy teased, winking at you. Rosa went ahead and smacked him for his intrusion. “It’s fine you guys! People get caught kissing all the time!” Rosa tried making thee situation less awkward…by making it more awkward.

Luke’s eye twitched as he tried denying any and every accusation that Marius threw at him. Unfortunately with every exchange of words, your blush grew deeper and deeper.

“Luke you both were definitely making out.”

“What proof do you have?”

“Your hair is all messy.”

“We were exercising.”

“Exercising your mouths. Alright, time to use the wild card.” Marius cracked his knuckles and smirked widely.

“You were making out behind a glass cabinet, Y/N was playing with your hair which is why it’s all messy, your kissing sounds were so audible, like please have mercy on Y/N. And-“ Maruis faced you as you hid your face in Rosa’s shoulder in pure embarrassment.

“Y/N has a hickey forming on her neck.”

You squealed and hid your body behind Rosa. If you had it your way, you would have wished for a meteor to strike you down then and there.

Even Luke’s facade faltered after hearing Marius’s reasoning. His ears turned pink as his eyes glared daggers at the unwanted guest.

Marius smiled at having rendered Luke and you speechless.

“Gotcha.” He giggled, oblivious to the trouble he brewed for himself.

Marius doesn’t care who sees him kissing you. Even the where part doesn’t matter to this boy, be it the location where he’s caught or the places where his kisses touch your skin.

He’s cocky, he’s proud and he’s very loud. Always wanting to show you off and let everyone know that you are his and he is yours.

If you ever happen to pass by him in the hallways of college, or even in the NXX headquarters, he will shamelessly grab you and plant his lips on yours.

Expect little kisses anywhere and everywhere, he will grab you cheeks and kiss them, kiss your neck, kiss your hand. You’re going to have to swat him away like a fly.

He just loooooves kissing you and seeing your innocent blush is the highlight of his day! You little squeals and reactions make his heart melt and he just wants to keep on kissing you to see those adorable expressions again.

And if anyone does walk in, they’re in for a show.

“Slow down boy…” You panted as Marius picked you up and seated you on the table in his office, letting your legs dangle on either side of his hips.

He hummed while pulling away from your neck, admiring the glistening red spot of skin he made. A pretty mark for everyone to know you’re taken.

“Missy…you want me to stop?” He pouted, knowing that it was your biggest weakness, apart from his dizzying kisses. You started spluttering, wrapping your arms around his neck as he ran smooth circles on your thigh, sneaking under your skirt.

“I didn’t say that…I’m just telling you to slo-“ he squished your cheeks and tugged you into him, shushing you with his mouth. He smirked into the kiss, fervently running his tongue over your lips and danced with your tongue until you sighed in happiness and gave in.

See your submission, he pulled away to wink at you. “Do you really want slow?” He let his hands wander up your shirt as he leaned closer to blow against your burning ear. “I think you’re enjoying me not being slow“ And he continued to kiss your ear and neck, giggling at the taste of your skin.

The door slid open and in walked Vincent, Marius’s personal assistant. Your position was such that Marius had his back towards the door, and given the advanced technology of soundless doors, he didn’t notice the intruder.

But you did, your eyes meeting the horrified grey ones of the boy.

“Ma-Marius!” You squeal and push at his shoulder, eyes still fixated on Vincent. Confused, your boyfriend pulled away and followed your gaze to Vincent.

Upon seeing the pale looks on both of your faces he laughed, coughing in a fake manner when you glared at him with blushing cheeks.

“Uh Vincent is there something you need? You were kinda interrupting something here.” Marius winked, wrapping his arm around you waist once you stand up straight.

“Master! There were some…uhh… papers! Yes! They require your immediate attention.” Vincent stumbled over his words while diverting his gaze as you straightened your skirt and Marius fixed the buttons of his shirt.

“Aww so I’ll have to leave Y/N? But I was having fun.” He whined, again with those puppy eyes, but they proved ineffective on Vincent who had seen them many times.

“Sorry but you need to head to the conference room immediately. You can…continue later Master.” Vincent looked to the ground, kicking himself for wording his sentence like that.

You were blushing and chose to stay quiet, lest you make the situation worse. Marius sighed and turned to you, leaning down to peck your lips and then your neck, the tingling sensation of the split second contact making you blush.

“I’ll see you later Missy.” And with a kiss blown in your direction, he was leaving the room.

That left Vincent and you in the room, alone and awkward.

Vicent coughed and walked to the desk, opening a drawer with a first aid kit. You raised your eyebrow and looked at him curiously, seeing him pull out a bandaid and extend it in your direction.

“You probably need this. There’s…umm..there’s a mark on…your neck.” He murmured nervously, avoiding your embarrassed face.

Vyn does prefer to get intimate in more comfortable environments such as your house or his.

But that doesn’t stop his cheeky little self from wanting to play games with you and your mind. Very big tease.

He’ll make note of the environment he’s in, checking how crowded it is and where all can people possibly walk in from. And once he has the all clear, his lips will magnetically fall upon yours.

Vyn will hold you in an empty room in the NXX headquarters and kiss you silly, not stopping even after hearing your protests that someone might walk in.

He just wants to see if you’ll compose yourself well enough, should such a situation arise. Will you be able to smile normally after having him kiss you like no tomorrow?

Of course, Vyn is only human and he too sometimes gets lost into the intensity of his little experiment.

Which lead to him reacting slower to the door opening. Not that he really minds. You’re his lover and isn’t it normal for lovers to kiss?

You didn’t even notice when Vyn pulled you in his lap as he sat on the desk chair. The seat rocked under you as your knees touched his hips. “Vyn!” You gasped and wrapped your arms around his neck, afraid the momentum would knock you over.

“It’s alright dear. Nothing is going to happen to you.” You neck was a breath away from his lips and he took the chance to latch his mouth on your neck. He sucked softly, teeth grazing your flesh. He hummed at your whimpering self as he trailed his lips upwards.

“Give me a kiss?” He asks against your lips, smiling on the inside. How could you say no to him when he stared at you with those golden eyes of his?

With a nervous nod you held his face in your hands and pressed your lips against his. Right as you pulled away from what you were hoping would be a little peck, he grabbed the back of your head and tugged you back, slamming your mouths together.

A steamy kiss later he let you part to take deep breaths. “You didn’t really think a little kiss would be enough, did you?” He teased, shaping patterns on your thigh and hovering his lips on yours.

“I…I” You gulped, finding the words in your flooding mind.

You can thank the beeping of the door open to rid your head of any thoughts, leaving your mind too blank to react.

Artem stood at the door with his eyes wide in shock, not expecting to walk in on the view of you on Vyn’s lap with his lips centimetres away from yours.

Man really just wanted some files.

“Artem.” Vyn greeted, as if he wasn’t just making out with you. Whereas you, you had lost all knowledge of human communication, resorting to gaping like a fish.

Artem sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Vyn this is far from appropriate. You can’t…just do that here.”

When sense finally clicked in you, you scrambled off Vyn’s lap and fixed your clothes, averting your haze from Artem’s.

“It’s your fault for walking in. Should have knocked Artem.” Vyn taunted, striking a cunning pose as he sat on the chair; his elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward and supported his face with the back of his hands.

“Vyn this is a professional organisation.” Artem quipped back and you suddenly felt more uncomfortable than when Artem caught you almost kissing.

Seeing you fidgeting on your heels in discomfort, Vyn pulled back. “Very well. We’ll try to not get caught next time.”

“Meeting in 5.” Artem groaned and left the room, knowing that that was the best he would get out of the stubborn doctor.

“Vyn that was so embarrassing!” You squealed and hid your face in his shoulder when he rose to hug you.

He chuckled softly and kissed your forehead, trying to calm you down. Such a fail. And it really didn’t help when he kissed a specific spot on your neck, one he’d given great attention to during your make out.

“Wear this mark with pride, my dear.”

Rosa is very shy. You would have to be the one to initiate something, only then would you get to see the confident side of her.

Keep throwing hints at her that you really want to kiss her; hold her hand and rub her knuckles, find excuses to be alone with her.

All this really riles her up.

She kinda loves it when you kiss her in public. It makes her feel really special even if it is just a small peck to her cheeks. She knows your true intentions and can’t stop that blush on her face.

And when you find a moment alone with her, she’s pouncing on you.

Rosa is a woman who does indeed have a wild side, it’s just hidden under her layers of shyness.

When you guys are kissing, her hands are all over you, nervously groping your soft flesh and playing with your hair.

She does consider the possibility of being caught, but getting a taste of your lips makes her thoughts foggy.

Being the overthinking girls you are, you and Rosa found yourselves waiting in the NXX conference room one hour before the meeting was to happen. With so much time, what else were you supposed to do if not kiss your girlfriend breathless?

Your lips moulded with hers perfectly, hand inching up her skirt as her fingers curled in the hem of your skirt. She tasted of the candy you just shared a few minutes ago. Eager to get more of that taste, you gently rolled your tongue on hers, hearing her whimper in response.

Her fingers brushed over your cheek and pushed you away.

“Y/N…” she whispered your name and panted, face so very red and cute. You knew that even your face was flushed after that kiss, but neither of you found yourselves stopping.

“Yes sweetheart?” You smiled.

Her knees bumped against yours as she jumped on you, pinning you to the couch with her hips straddling yours. You squeak and manage to turn a shade redder when her face inched closer to yours.

“Woah! Rosa!” You moaned in a hushed tone, sighing at the sensation of her kissing down your neck. Your fingers ran circles over her tights, tugging and releasing the elastic material against her skin.

“What if someone sees us like this sweetheart?” You groan when her mouth latched against your lower lip, eating up anything else you had to say.

She really should have thought of an answer.

“Rosa, you didn’t answer Y/N’s question.” A familiar voice came from the door, making you and Rosa whip your head to the group of boys. Vyn stood in front smiling at you as if you weren’t just eating each other’s faces, Marius had the biggest shit eating grin and finally Artem and Luke where looking anywhere else but at you, respecting your privacy.

“Oh my God!” Rosa jumped up and curled into a ball on the far end of the couch as you stayed laying against the cushions, covering your blushing face with your arm.

“How long have you guys been standing there?” You sighed, trying to keep your confident face on.

“A good minute. Mind if I join in on the fun?” Marius teased while walking to you, plopping in between you and the armrest when you sat up.

“Pervert.” You punched his shoulder and wrapped you arm around Rosa’s body, letting her shrink against your chest.

“Do you need some ice Y/N? What about you Rosa? You were really going at it. I can see the marks so clearly.” Marius kept on with his jest, ignoring the groans of the other members of the team.

“Shut up Marius. You’re just jealous they’re getting some action and you’re not.” Luke grumbled, eyes widening when he realised what he just spoke.

You and Rosa looked at your childhood friend with faces twisted in irritation. He started stammering, finding words. “No! I didn’t, I didn’t mean that! I just…no…I’m sorry….just..I’ll shut up.” He coughed and opened a random file, acting all serious.

“It’s not a big matter, you both. Kissing is very normal.” Vyn piped up. Was he trying to help? Because all that did was make you blush.

You hid your face in your hands. “Artem, I swear if you are going to make an addition to this conversation, I will resign from the company.” You looked up to see his mouth open, almost ready to speak.

He coughed. “I was just going to inform you that…your shirt is a little…unbuttoned.”

Meeting over. You were going to die of embarrassment.

#tears of themis #tears of themis luke #tears of themis artem #tears of themis vyn #tears of themis marius #tears of themis rosa #fem reader #tears of themis x reader #mia.writes

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alice-angel12x · 2 years

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Heartslabyul

Y/n’s mirror glowed brightly as the Door began to take shape. Ace, Deuce, and Grim watched as an image of Y/n holding a mirror appeared on the door.

“Y/n? What is this?” Ace asked as he opened the door.

Inside was a large and glamorous room, it certainly did not match the dimensions from the outside. As the students explored the room when y/n noticed a spiraling staircase going down into the dark below. Slowly making their way down the steps they find themselves in a room full of full-body mirrors, yet they don’t seem to reflect anything. Another strange thing in the room was the many butterflies fluttering about. It was indeed a strange room, but sadly Y/n didn’t have time to wonder about their room. Because they had to help Ace make amends with Riddle.

Sadly simply going to apologize to Riddle is not as easy or simple. So they needed to make a Tart to replace the one Ace stole. But Y/n didn’t know how to bake Tarts and didn’t have money to buy one, they would have been at a dead end.

Yet thankfully the timely arrival of Trey came to their rescue. That was also where Y/n got to meet Riddle for the first time. He was strict and poised, like Abuela, but lacked love or kindness.

Now Y/n understood the pressure Ace, Deuce, and the other dorm students are under.

So with Trey’s help, the first years were going to make many tarts for Riddle and the unbirthday. Halfway through the baking process, the group ran short with a few ingredients, so deuce and Y/n volunteered to go to Sam’s shop to get some.

But they ran into some issues on the way back.

“That hurt! Where the hell’re ya lookin’ at—Wha—You’re the guys who ruined my carbonara’s soft-boiled egg during lunch today!” Student A growled.

“Aren’t you the ones at fault for bumping into me? Even during lunch. The egg wasn’t really that badly harmed, but you made a huge scene out of it. Our carton of eggs is totally ruined, though,” Deuce said, trying to remain calm.

“The hell? You sayin’ it’s my fault, then?” Student A scoffed.

“Hah~? Makin’ a ruckus over eggs, are we?” Student B laughed.

“It didn’t hit the ground so you can still eat it. Stop makin’ a fuss over little things,” Student A added.” Ya better be thankful they broke inside the plastic bag!”

“mess with me, will you..” Deuce growled. “You ain’t got no choice but to apologize for something that’s your fault!”

“These eggs will be used to make a delicious tart in place of turning into chicks, bastard!! Do you understand me, huh!?” Deuce Shouted with pure anger.

_________________

“Deuce? You okay their buddy?” Y/n asked as they tried to comfort a now saddened Deuce.

The young boy explained how he was a delinquent in the past, and how it greatly saddened his mother. So he promised to become a better person. One that his mother would be proud of.

“Yet here I am now, I have not changed,” Deuce said quietly.

“No, I think you have. You did what you did to defend and protect our friend. Yes, you may be a bit rough around the edges, but over time you will learn. And I bet your mom would be proud of you for sticking up for your friends. You are truly amazing Deuce,” Y/n smiled. “ And I know one day you will become someone that you and your mother can be proud of.”

Deuce began to tear up at those words, as he felt Y/n’s warm embrace.

_________________

Soon the day of the unbirthday and things went… Horribly! Turns out that the first years brought the wrong type of Tart to the unbirthday, causing Riddle to get angry, getting Ace anger at him. Leading to Red collars everywhere.

When Y/n saw that Grim was next to be collared, they quickly jumped in front of grim and used the mirror to protect their face and neck. As soon as the magic touched the reflective surface, it suddenly vanished into the mirror. With that distraction, the first years booked it out of the dorm.

“Y/n, how did you do that?” Grim asked.

“I-I don’t know that this mirror could do that,” Y/n stuttered slightly as they stared into the reflective surface.

Y/n slowly touches the surface only for their hand to go right through. They gasped as they quickly pulled their hand back. The boys watched in awe as they watched to try the mirror too, but were met with the hard surface of the mirror.

“Why didn’t it work? Hey, try Ace’s tiny mirror,” Grim said as he snatched a pocket-sized mirror from Ace’s pocket.

“H-Hey!” Ace gasped.

“You have a makeup mirror?” Deuce asked with a small smirk.

And like before, their finger went through the mirror with no resistance.

“Is this… My Gift?” Y/n asked slowly.

“Gift? Do you mean your unique magic, but I thought you were magicless?” Ace asked.

“A gift, this is probably the only power I get,” Y/n explained.re magicless?” Ace asked.

“A gift, this is probably the only power I get,” Y/n explained. “ Though it was cool how Riddle’s magic vanished into the mirror. I wonder where it went?”

As Y/n stared into the mirror an Idea came to mind. In a joking way, Y/n flipped the mirror around and pointed it at Grim, and said “Off With your head”. When Suddenly A Collar appeared on Grim.

“WHAT!!!” The Boys gasped.

________________________

It turned out to be a one-time use, so Y/n couldn’t make another collar appear. It seemed things could get stored away in any mirror Y/n touch, from Objects to spells. Yet this was just the surface of their gift.

—-----------------------

The Overblot situation was shocking to everyone, Especially to Y/n. Who recognized the giant faceless ink monster behind Riddle. In their Father’s Vision, this was the World of Monsters they were warned about.

But Luckily they could free Riddle from his darkness. And With the Aid of the Ghost Camera, Y/n could enter the world of Riddles past.

Even though Y/n may not have suffered as high expectations as he had, They still comforted them greatly saddened Riddle. They could understand wanting to be perfect, yet never being enough. Riddle melted in the warm embrace as Golden butterflies swarm around them.

________________________

When it was all said and done, Riddle apologized for his harsh actions. When something magical happened, the butterfly emerged from the glowing mirror.

"The Butterfly Changed!" Grim gasped.

The butterfly fluttered around a bit and soon flew off into the Maze. Y/n and the others to find it a few turns away from the Dorm, when the butterfly suddenly rested on on of the hedges. As it did, a large full body mirror formed beneath it. Yet reflected on the Surface was Ramshackle Casita.

_________________________________________

Sorry if this felt rushed, but I'm not writing the entire heartslabyul episode in one post or over a couple.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland headcanons #twst yuu #encanto yuu #encanto yuu x twisted wonderland #Encanto Twisted Wonderland

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3nh4 · 3 years

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%txt’s kinks% (gn!reader)

warnings: breeding, petplay, dacryphilia, somnophilia, weapon play, sadism, plushiefucking ment lol

soobin

<3 into (consensually) forced breeding & petplay. horny lil bunny boy just can’t keep it in his pants!! fucks you recklessly like a pup in heat and gets so embarrassed when he inevitably cums too quickly without permission because you just feel too good. “s-soobinie can’t hold it in, master. i’m sorry!”

<3 ranked 1# nations best service top. likes to be tied up so he’s entirely helpless to you using him however you want. even when he’s overstimulated, his legs are shaking, and tears start to stream down his face, he’s powerless to pull out

<3 the prettiest blubbering, crying mess ever btw. it’s a rare occurrence if he cums without any tears

<3 somno fiend. (with prior consent ofc!!!) he loves to play with his master while they’re asleep. it makes him feel dirty, like it’s something he’ll be punished for. it gives him a yucky feeling in his stomach— the same feeling that coincidentally makes him harder than a rock

yeonjun

<3 i cant imagine a switchier switch bro

<3 controversial but i feel like he’s mostly vanilla. like he’s into the powerplay of domming/subbing for his partner but isn’t into harder kinks

<3 LOVES to be praised and give praise. call him a good boy and he’ll be putty in your hands

<3 on the other hand, when he gives praise it’s always kind of backhanded. patronizing but 100% affectionate at the same time. “aww i didn’t think you’d be able to take it all, baby. i’m so proud.”

<3 likes to film you two together to watch later. just having the camera rolling makes it so much more thrilling bcs of the risk factor. loves to send & receive dirty vids as well when y’all can’t see each other in person

beomgyu

<3 little sadist fuck

<3 brattiest dom alive. gets off on making fun of you in the meanest ways possible. “that’s gonna make you cum? woww...”

<3 “maybe you’d be allowed to touch me if you weren’t a fucking idiot who can’t even follow simple rules.”

<3 on the giving end of all sorts of sensory play: temperature play using wax, candles, & ice, blindfolds + ear plugs. revels in being able to make you feel powerless and afraid

<3 speaking of, he’d like to use weapons too. whether that’s by grazing a knife along your soft skin without breaking the flesh, or holding a (plastic) gun to the underside of your chin as he fucks you

taehyun

<3 he’s so vanilla i’m sorry .......

<3 his kink is being in love w you <3333 /j lol

<3 no but really, if anyone truly “makes love” it’s him. he’s so passionate & caring. he spends the whole time whispering in your ear how beautiful you are and how lucky he is to have you

<3 he’d like to record you guys too but just the audio so he can listen to your moans whenever he wants

<3 kinkiest kink he has is a strength kink. loves that he can throw you around or lift you up like you’re nothing. will totally use this to his advantage and hoist you up onto his shoulders so he can eat you out

kai

<3 goodest boy ... he just wants to be praised. tell him he’s doing good, that he’s cute, he’ll blush up a storm

<3 into petplay but like rlly soft .. like collars & lil ear headbands & tail plugs & belly rubs

<3 legally i am obligated to say he’s a plushiefucker. i will not elaborate

<3 he gets off on giving you pleasure. stares a little too hard at your contorted face, could cum just listening to you moan under him

<3 and maybe this is out of left field but he likes when you’re a little rough with him too. he’s not very experienced, and anything you do is going to make him go red in the face, but something about being smacked a lil bit makes his tummy tingle

#txt smut #txt hard hours #txt smut reactions #txt x reader #txt imagines #txt drabbles #txt scenarios #txt headcanons #my first post be nice!!!!! hfdsdjks

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 2 years

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Fear That You’ll Find Out How I’m Imagining You

Summary: For Father Spencer, his life was a simple one: lead his flock in the worship of the Lord. Little he know, a fallen lamb with a breathy whisper of a voice would seep into every waking thought and make him, for the first time since his Calling, question the very vows that restrain him from all Earthly and human pleasures. Who knew the Devil had the face of an Angel and the body of a temptress.

Word Count: around 4700

Content Warnings: Religious themes and references, talk of desire and intimate behaviors, self pleasure (spoken and described, touch of Perv!Spencer, masturbation, touch of innocence kink, heavy themes of priest kink and corruption kink to come

Author’s Note: Welp!! Here it is. The Fleabag-ification of Spencer Reid with a little more spice :). I am kinda proud of how this turned out (I hate to talk about things I’m proud of but I really like this one). I’ve got room on the taglist, but please remember this fic involves heavier/kinkier themes so proceed with caution. Thank you to @reidsbookclub for editing this and giving me a lot of praise 😉

Fear That You’ll Find Out How I’m Imagining You

I suppose it makes sense that the church is my sanctuary, given that I am a priest. There’s something about it that feels like home. From the ornate thurible and the Gothic arches, I am blessed and grateful to have found inner peace within God’s home. The parish, my flock, looks to me for guidance. And I, with the wisdom of the Lord in my heart and head will do my best to follow through on my vow. My vow to the Lord, to refuse any Earthly temptation, all carnal desires that have plagued humanity till the dawn of time. I swore to myself that no flight of fancy, no temptation, no matter how sweet would sway me from the path that I forged. I believed that my Calling to serve the Lord was the greatest force on this Earth and His Heavenly Kingdom.

Yet, I sit now in a bed of my own making. The former Father Spencer Reid, servant of the Lamb of God, is a sinner. But do I regret it? Do I regret tasting Heaven herself? Do I regret feeling salvation in every pore of my body? Do I regret breaking my vow of celibacy on the very altar I once worshiped?

No. Not in the slightest.

If she’s the Devil, then light me up because I’m her only worshiper. If she is sin itself, then I am nothing but a soulless sinner. I’ll love her like the sinful man I am, even if it means my soul is damned to Hell.

I’ll shed the skin of my old life like the snake in the Garden of Eden. I’ll give up the collar I’ve worn in reverence for the Lord for the chance to have her wear my hands like a collar around her neck. I’ll turn my back on the Savior I swore to serve, because she’s my goddess and I’m her only worshiper. Her body, her hips, her lips are the only altar I care to practice at. My hands will marvel at her beauty, wondering how she’s the Devil if she looks like an Angel. I want her bathed in gold, her supple soft skin aching to be caressed by the one man who’s vowed to deny such divine pleasures. Divinity is in her lips, her crimson red, sinful lips that beg to be kissed.

Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.

The words, echoing in my thoughts, bring a self satisfied smile to my lips. My own inner voice isn’t anything compared to the rich timbre of her voice. Though when she said it, I was basked in an euphoria like no other. When she said it, I never wanted to hear it again, unless it slipped from her wine colored lips.

Yet, forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been three months since my last confession. I have committed the one act I’ve swore to never let cross my mind. I’ve tasted Heaven. I’ve eaten the Divine, yet forbidden fruit. And I am a guilty man because not an ounce of regret courses through my veins. My heart, my soul, my spirit are all her’s to keep, to cherish, to with as she wishes. She could break my soul in to a million fractured shards of glass. I’d look into the broken pieces of the reflective surface and I’d be gazing into your face. I’d see her soul where I see mine. She could break if she wishes, tarnish what was sparkled with an incandescent glow, because my soul was only her’s to break. I am a sinner. She’s a saint. But the lines, like most things in life, are blurred. You don’t get any absolutes.

Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. I have fallen in love with a woman. I’ve tasted the sweet essence of carnal sin on her hips and not even the most miraculous waters of your Divine Kingdom could compare. I won’t deny it, Father, I’ve in my mind all the things I could do with her. No penance will be able to reconcile that I now worship my own personal goddess in the bedroom.

I’m not a claustrophobic man, but spending an entire day in the confessionals threatens to turn me into one. It’s not supposed to be a comfortable room, but my entire body aches from being cramped up in the tiny room. The priest prior to me, Father Simon preferred the more formal setting for the parish confessions. From the ornate carvings, the uncomfortably hard kneelers, and iconography this confessional is nothing but ostentatious.

It’s dark in the small room, but the light pours in through the crack between the doorframe and the door. A decorative piece of stained glass is my only window into the rest of the church, but it’s useless to look through. The glass, ornate like everything else in this building, is a depiction of St. Augustine, a 5th century Bishop who, hundreds and hundreds of years after his death, headed my calling to the Lord. The deep cherry reds, the royal blues, and dark purple pieces of glass catch sunlight as they provide my only form of entertainment as I await the next parishioner. Saturdays during Ordinary Time mean the local sinners feel the urge to repent. They repent. I listen and give them some tasks or prayers to absolve them of their sins.

Reconciliation, as I’ve figured out in my two years at this church, is the least popular Sacrament. I suppose that it’s part of human nature, not wanting to admit wrong doings, especially when only a darkened screen sits between you and your Heavenly maker.

The door on the other side, the parishioner’s side, opens with a creak. The old cherry wood doors give off any kind of movement, telling me that there’s someone on the other side desiring to cleanse their soul. I wait for the person to talk, giving them a moment of silence before we begin.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been 3 years since my last confession,” the bodiless voice says. It’s a man’s voice, probably older than myself given the weathered tone in which he speaks. Again, I wait a beat, letting the silence sit with us. As much as I despise the crampedness of the confessionals, it’s revitalizing the same token.

“Let us start with the Sign of the Cross,” I instruct, raising my hand to my forehead, as I begin, “In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, Amen,” I say, my voice echoing in the chamber. I can see an outline of a man through the darkened screen, he kneels before he is ready to atone for his sins.

“You may begin, my brother,” I tell him, “Please confess what you must and hope that you heart and soul will feel a weight lifted off your being,”

The man confesses. His voice shakes as he recounts the people he’s betrayed, hurt, and cursed over the past three years. I listen, nodding my head along, even though the darken screen gives the man his privacy. He continues for some time, speaking about his dependence on alcohol, his emotional neglect of his wife and children, and his desire to be a better father and husband. I can’t offer any personal advice to the topic, as it’s far from my purview, but as he finishes I ask that he joins me in prayer.

“My dear brother,” I tell him, “Let us pray,”

And the cycle continues, parishioner after parishioner. Sinner after sinner. Time seems to stand still while I’m sitting in the dark letting sinners bare their souls for a chance for their maker to forgive them. I want to make a mental note to remember to bring a watch next time I sit for confessions; the hours seem to bleed together without any end in sight.

The door opens again and the light bleeds through the screen. From the silhouette I can tell that my next candidate is a woman. I hear her puttering around in the booth, seemingly not understanding the protocol for this particular rite.

“You’re supposed to be kneeling,” I whisper, hearing her gasp, “Sorry for startling you,” I apologize, “You just sound like you’re not sure what you’re doing,”

“I’m not,” the faceless woman says. Her voice is young, maybe younger than me or around my age. For the first time, I find myself wondering what she looks like. Is her skin as soft as her voice? Are her eyes stormy and mysterious or are they sweet and docile? Is she slim and slender or is her body soft and full of curves? These thoughts trickle into my subconscious and threaten to make my skin crawl.

“Are you here to confess your sins?” I ask, “I will guide you, as a sheppard guides his lamb,” I tell her, the imaginary images of her face popping up in my mind as I speak. I close my eyes, succumbing to total darkness as I force the very thoughts out of my mind. I should be the one on the other side of the confessional, not this woman.

“I’m honestly not even sure why I am here, Father,” the woman whispers into the dark, “I’ve done bad things. But I’m not sure if I regret them. But I’ve never done this before,” I hear the cushion of the kneeler squeak as the woman moves around, probably still uncertain about what she’s doing here in the first place.

“That’s quite alright,” I say, consoling the woman without a face, “I can show you the ropes if you’d like,” I whisper back, terrified that this room isn’t soundproof like promised.

“Do I really have to say ‘Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned’ or is that only in mafia movies?” the woman asks, making me chuckle, despite my usual level of professionalism.

“Raise your hand to your forehead, dear,” I instruct, licking my lips as I continue, “And say, ‘in the name of the Father’,” she repeats after me, following my instructions as I continue, “And now touch your right shoulder and say ‘and the Son,’ and lastly, touch your left shoulder and say ‘and the Holy Spirit, Amen,”’

The woman does as she’s told, her voice but a shaky whisper above my own. I shift in my seat, even more aware of the crampedness of this room. The stained glass, my window the rest of the world and this flimsy, darkened screen the only barrier between me and the sinner before me.

“And now you may say it,” I tell her.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” she whispers, and I can hear every time she catches her voice. I can hear a layer of mystery in the way her voice gravels. I’ve never listened to voices like this before, “I-I’m sorry,” she says, the kneeler creaking as she stands suddenly, “I have to go, I’m crazy to do this-”

“Stop,” I say, my voice firm and steady compared to her weary and unsteady one, “Stay where you are. You’re here to confess your sins and you will,” I tell her, wondering if that gulping sound is coming from her or if I’m just imagining it.

“Yes, sir,” she whispers, kneeling back down. Through the screened barrier I can see the shadow of her hands. She clasps them tightly like she’s praying. I wonder if she’s ever been in this position before, albeit in less holy ways.

“It’s Father,” I correct, “Father Spencer,” I say, correcting myself, “It’s okay for you to know my name, even if I can’t know your name. It makes it less intimidating,”

“Yes, Father,” she whispers, and if I wasn’t such a pious man I would have sworn there was some sort of curse placed on me the moment those words slipped from her lips. I’ve never seen her lips before, but I know that they are beautiful. I know that she is beautiful, “Father Spencer,” she says, playfully, almost in a teasing tone.

“That’s my name,” I say, for the first time in my entire career, unsure of what to say. I could feel my mind twist over and over, tumbling around searching for the right words to materialize, “What brings you here today?”

“I’m not too sure, Father,” the woman starts, “I saw the church across the street and thought that it looked peaceful. If I’m being truthful, I’m a little embarrassed to tell you,” the adds, the nerves in her voice apparent even though I can’t read her body language through the barrier.

“And why is that? If you don’t regret what you did to someone,” I continue, “Part of this sacred sacrament is feeling a desire to seek forgiveness, if I can be so bold to say, regret is usually people feel,”

“I see,” she says, “It’s just difficult to admit, Father. Considering you are…,” her voice, trailing off into the darkness leads me to fill in the blanks. I look up to the nonexistent clock, wondering for a second how many more parishioners I’ll have to get through before I’m finished. I then give my attention back to the woman on the other side of the screen barrier.

“Considering I’m a priest?” I ask, not completely understanding what she’s implying yet, “I’ll promise you that I’m not what priests typically look like. I have all my hair still, for one thing. And I’m a quite bit younger than what most people imagine when it comes to priests,”

“I know,” she whispers, not giving me enough time to comprehend her implications, “I mean, I googled you. Before I walked into this…”

“Confessional,” I correct, “So you know what I look like? Why did you look me up?” I ask, wondering, despite my peaking interest in this mysteriously intriguing woman, if I’m opening a door that I’m forbidden to even think about.

“Because I was scared. This whole disembodied voice thing is a little creepy, if I could be blunt with you Father,” she tells me, a wry chuckle slipping from my lips before I can stop it, “But that was a mistake. Googling you, I mean. It’s going to make this much harder than I thought,”

“And why is that?” I ask, wondering for myself where this would lead.

“You’re a very attractive man,” she says, “And the sins I’ve committed are of the intimate and carnal nature,” the woman tells me, a hidden raspiness to her voice making me lean forward in the confessional. I fold my hands, linking my fingers together as I wait for her to continue.

It’s a peculiar word, carnal. It originates from Latin, a language that I’m all too familiar with. The word is the kind of word that evokes the feelings that it means exactly. Carnal Natural. The mystery woman, who may have skin softer than silk and eyes more tempting than red wine, is on her knees inches away from me confessing to the very sins I deny myself the pleasure of committing. I may be a pious man, who’s dedicated his life to answering the Lord’s calling. But I’m a man still, a man with desires, deep desires. Desire of a very carnal nature I’m denied.

It’s a bed of my own making I suppose, but I’ll forever crave to share the bed with someone as well.

“I’m only a witness,” I reassure, unsure if it’s more for myself or her, “You’re really confessing to God, I’m but a mere servant,”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better, Father?” the woman asks, and I swear I can taste the teasing from her lips, “I’ve touched myself,” she reveals, a beat of silence festering between us.

“You mean,” I say, collecting myself as I shift uncomfortably in the chair. It’s hotter than ever in the tiny room and I am intimately aware of the nearly suffocating pants I’m wearing, “You’ve touched yourself in a self-pleasuring way,”

“Yes, Father,” she answers, her silhouette bowing her head in only what I can assume is humiliation and embarrassment, “It felt good so I’ve done it many times. My boyfriend, ex-boyfriend, struggled to make…”

“Climax?” I offer, refusing to conceal the smirk that materializes across my face as I hear the woman’s frazzled stutters, “I’m a human, my dear. And a man, but you did know that already,” I tease, wondering if her cheeks are heating as I continue.

“Father,” she says, her voice strained with guilt and humiliation, “I want to know if I’m headed for damnation? I try to be a good person, to live my life with good rules, even if I’m not a practicing Catholic. But I’m terrified that this makes me a sinner,”

“I don’t think it has to do with you touching yourself,” I tell her, assessing the situation and hoping in all of my bones that I am giving this wildly interesting woman somecomfort, “I think you’re wondering if you’re a good person, is that right?”

“Yes, Father,” she replies, the silence hanging again in the sticky heat of the confessional, “I’ve been thinking about it for quite some time,”

“You’re a good person,” I tell her, “We’re all sinners in the eyes of the Lord, none of us perfect, none of us sweet and Holy as him. But if we strive to do some good in this world, we can seek eternal life in paradise with him,” I say, wondering if these words are empty promises to her, while they are the very essence of life to me.

I don’t reply, letting the words stick to my skin like honey dripping from beehives. I can feel it in the silence that sits between us. Her heavy, labored breathing and fidgeting against the kneel tells me all I need to know. I’m suddenly filled with an urge to comfort her in a way that blurs the lines like never before. I hardly know this woman; not her name or age, not what she looks like or what she does for a living.

I’ve never felt a desire for a woman this strong in years. I hardly know her, yet I’m overwhelmed with a desire to wipe the tears from her face that I’m sure fall onto the kneeler. I want to brush my fingers across her undoubtedly soft skin and kiss away the things that eat away at her heart. We’re strangers, yet there’s something pulling me towards her, making me question everything I’ve accepted with faithful endeavor.

“Thank you, Father,” she whispers. She shuffles around in the confessional, perhaps searching for her belongings in the dark, still unnerved from the nature of our conversation. She’s quiet, not speaking another word as she exits the confessional. The light seeps into her side of the confessional when she opens the door, reminding me that, in fact, there’s an outside world beyond these walls.

Even though I’m not supposed to, I throw the door open, unsure myself of what exactly I intend to do. The woman from the confession dashes out of the church down the aisle like a runaway bride. I’m tempted to stop her, but I’m not even sure I want to do that in the first place. I’ve already crossed the line, the blurry gray line that’s holding me back from my human desires.

I’m a lucky man, it turns out. Because when she left I not only got a glimpse at her, but my mystery woman left something behind: a perfume-stained handkerchief.

After my encounter with the woman in the confessional, I’ve tried nearly everything to get her out of my mind. I failed. There was something about the breathy way she spoke, the earnestness in her voice when she asked for a kind of forgiveness that even she didn’t know if she wanted. Days later, I would still find myself imagining what she looked like and, like most things, it leads to thoughts that slowly become clouded with forbidden thoughts.

I had a life before I entered the Seminary. A life of a man with desires of the carnal nature. When the woman in the confessional gave her penance about touching herself, I knew exactly what she was talking about. I knew the way that her body would twist and arch with a burning pleasure like no other. I knew the way that she’d bite her lip in an attempt to stifle her moans. I knew the way that she’d do it again and again, seeking the same pleasure over and over.

For years, I’ve restrained myself. I’ve denied myself the sinful pleasures that humans crave. I gave up the life I once led to serve the Lord as a faithful, pious man. But, at the end of the day, aren’t I just a man? Aren’t I a man with desires? Aren’t I a man who could find a woman, who’s voice is nothing but a godless call to the pits of Hell. But if her voice, her breathy, earnest, sweet voice is the song of Hell, then the Devil himself can hand me the hymnal because I'll be singing her praises.

I can hear her voice echoing in my thoughts, encouraging me as my hands unfasten my belt. My black pants fall to my knees, leaving me in my collared shirt and underwear. I should have realized that thinking about this woman would have had this effect on my body and my mind. Perhaps it’s because I’ve denied myself these pleasures for so long that the anticipation is bound to be more intense.

I think of her voice and how soft her hands must be as I pull my hardened erection from my underwear, slowly starting to touch myself with a tight grip. Her breathy voice, airy and Heavenly fills my mind. It’s like the kind of sweet perfume that's so stifling all you can think about is the way it makes you dizzy. As I stroke my cock, I’m plagued with the thoughts of this woman’s perfume. Her handkerchief is buried deep into my pocket, burning a hole through my skin as I go throughout my days.

Moving up and down with my hand on my cock, I imagine she’s kneeling before me, not unlike she was in the confessional. I bring the handkerchief to my nose, breathing in her smell as if I was burying my nose into her neck. Of the glimpse I got of her skin, I know she’s soft and pliant. I think of her breathy, helpless tones as they flutter in my mind. I’ve never seen her face, her lips, her eyes, yet I know I want to see what she’d look like with my cock in her mouth. I wonder if her eyes would flutter with pleasure as I stroked my fingers against her cheek? Would she touch herself while she took me in her mouth, aching to bring herself to the very temptatious climax she confessed to me on her knees days ago?

Groaning, the thoughts and images and sounds flutter in my head, desperately untamed and Hell-bound. I’ve only heard her voice and it’s like I can imagine the way her body would writhe under my touch. I wonder if I ever treated her like she deserves. I curse myself for being the man that’s forbidden by his maker to bring that sinful pleasure to her lips, her body, her mind.

My collar is tight against my next, choking me like an all knowing vice. I feel my blood boil as my hand continues to pleasure myself, wondering how it would feel with a much smaller, much softer, much more angelic hand bringing me to the brink. Or her mouth, wet and warm, taking me in whole with her eyes daring me to proceed. I groan at the thought of watching my dick slip in and out, disappearing in her tight cunt. It’s almost like I can hear the breathless, uncontrolled moans slipping from her perfect lips.

My thoughts, sinful and laden with guilt, thought of what she’d look like on her knees for me, without a screen barrier dividing us. My hands wanted to cover her skin, touching her in places that I’ve vowed to never touch. I wanted to bring her the very pleasure that I’ve restrained myself from. I want to feel how Heavenly soft her thighs would feel as they wrapped around my head like a vice. Not even the Holiest chalice with the Blessed Wine could compare to her taste. I’ve never even feasted on her yet and I’m already desperate for more. My hands and thoughts grow more and more restless….and remorseless as I continue to stroke my length.

If she was sitting before me, I’d tear her clothes from her begging body, touching her and bringing her enough pleasure to confess her sins for a lifetime. No part of her would go unkissed, untouched, unloved. I’d worship her like she’s the most divine altar, because she’s the most precious offering.

I feel heat grow in my stomach and rise throughout my entire being. It’s like all the cells in my body are on fire. I’ve done this before, I’m a man, a human with desires, but it’s never been like this.

I feel everything slip from my metaphorical grip. I throw my reservations to the wind in an attempt to chase my release. If I close my eyes tight enough it’s like I can imagine her hand bringing me closer and closer to the edge. I wonder if she’d give it to me without teasing, or if she’d like to deny me over and over, watching my stony exterior crumble. I’d let her destroy me, I’d like her to ruin me over and over if I’d get a taste of her sweetness in return. They say that the Devil is a terrifying, imposing figure of pure fire, yet as I close my eyes I can only see a Heaven-sent angel. Her lips, rosy and tempting. Her hips, marked with mouth. Her soul, bared and vulnerable, a perfect match to mine.

“Fuck,” I groaned as I finished into my hand. The sweet echoes of voice ricocheting in my head.

My cheeks, flushed with a mixture of humiliation and fervent need, burn a fiery red. My lips, bitten from keeping my moans silent, are swollen and nearly bloodied from the pressure. Her touchless touch dirtied my soul. It unleashed a carnal nature in me. My hand is slick with my release, yet I continue stroking beyond my climax. I don’t have a name to call out in pleasure, but God seems to be inappropriate for a plethora of reasons. Yet, her name would be the sweetest thing to cross my lips, and I’ll be damned if I could never hear her scream mine, even if it will turn me into a godless, Hell-damned man.

I sit there, forehead shining with sweat and pants around my ankles. A smile, sinful and proud forms across my face. Grinning like the Devil, I think I finally understand what the woman in the confessional meant by not regretting it.

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thewritingginger · 3 years

Text

AoT Boys - Preferences

This is something... I have nothing else to say about it lol

Also it may be a bit all over the place idk

Fandom: Attack on Titan Characters: Reiner Braun, Armin Arlert, Eren Yeager & Jean Kirstein Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Fem! Bodied Reader, Mentions of sex, Swearing, lot of boob, ass, & thigh talk, also switches b/w saying s/o and you I'm a mess :)

Enjoy ~

Reiner

Reiner is a simple man that loves dem tiddies!

Big or little doesn't matter

Man has giant hands and if it fits it ships

“You fit so perfectly in my hands.”

Loves to lay on your chest - #LittleSpoonReiner

When he had a particularly rough day all he wants to do is nizzle into your chest and breathe in your scent

Likes to massage them over your clothes when y’all make out

Can’t keep his mouth off of them, licking and biting them as he also plays with your nipples

He may give them a few smacks here and there if that's the mood 😉

Honestly would so happy to just play with your chest and nothing else, especially if you really like it

Likes when his s/o rides him - not only cuz it gives them more control of the pacing but also bc he gets a full view of their breasts

If you want to make this man nearly combust send him a saucy pic while he’s out/at work and can’t get to you

Man is weak for some lacy lingerie - really likes pastels and white (to him if makes it almost feel naughtier cuz of how sweet it looks)

“I was thinking of wearing this to our date tonight, do you like it? 😇” - w/ a mirror pic of you in a matching lacy set, wearing one of his large button up shirts and make sure you put your hand on your cheek sweetly, pressing your breasts together

He would call you so fast!

“Sweetheart, I am at work! Please-”

“And change of plans, instead of going out Imma need you to be on that bed when I get home tonight because we will not be leaving that room till you’re completely fucked out.”

Really likes clothed sex - why would he just rip of that pretty lingerie you put on for him when he can continue to enjoy it on your beautiful body while he rails you?!

He just overall enjoys seeing and feeling your chest and bonus points for it also feeling good for you though he doesn’t really touch them w/o your permission/ when y’all are getting it on

However, in his sleep his hand can become a bit of a wanderer

So he is a perv but not so outwardly so

Really likes lacy or mesh shirts where can see your bra/bralette - though sometimes it can make him feel some type of way

“Beautiful, I always love what you wear but you gotta stop doing this to me, my heart can’t take it.”

Man just melts for you! ok?!

Armin

Armin is a Thigh Man! and I will die on this hill!!!

He loves to hold and squeeze them - in both sexual & non-sexual situations

Laying on them is prime time for him, he may even leave a few sleepy kisses behind before falling asleep on them

Also Thigh fucking is his jam!! And you can’t convince me otherwise

Not only does he love the feeling of your thighs jerking him off but also it’s about that teasing he loves to give his s/o

May even taunt them about it

“You like feeling my cock slide between your thighs?”

“My Angel wishes they had my cock inside them, huh.”

He also just generally loves kissing, licking and biting your thighs, he likes to take his time especially when he is about to go down on you

He likes to have his hand on his s/o’s thigh while sitting next to them, whether at home or out for lunch with friends - not necessarily in a sexual way well… unless you want him to 😉

Want to make him excited? Wear some thigh high stockings

If you are wearing a skirt and at some point in the day you lift the hem to show the garter strap holding up your stocking he’ll let out a little low hum of approval and needs to get his hands on you soon

That also goes for if you want to send him a little pic in the day to show you miss him just a little

“Thinking of you bb 🥰” - w/ a picture of your skirt raised or just in a pair of cute panties while sat on your knees with your thighs pressed together would do the trick

He would blush a little at the initial shock -especially if around others- but would be quick to excuse himself before responding

“You’re so beautiful, when I get home I’m gonna spread those pretty thighs open and have you screaming for me.”

Boy really likes not only shear tights but also fishnets

Whether you wear them under a skirt/dress or under distressed jeans and it peeks through holes and over the top he’s in for it

Has 10000% had sex with a pair of fishnets on - the ones with the extra large holes that he can fit his dick through - yes ma’am

Also just plain old ripping them open so make sure you don’t spend a lot of money of your tights cuz they might not last too long oop

Eren

Also a Boobie Man!

Whether he is just chillin on the couch watching t.v. with his s/o or making out and getting down to business, his hand somehow always finds its way to a boob

He will just put his arm around your shoulder and snake his hand down the collar of your shirt and just cup it - maybe will begin to give a few squeezes here and there mf treating it like a stress ball smh

Will motor boat you - he doesn’t care if there isn't much to your chest either cuz he will go for it anyway

If he is having sex in missionary best believe both his palms would be kneaded his s/o’s breasts

Or if from behind he will lean over and wrap his arm around their front to hold them

But lets need not forget the tiddie bounce when his s/o rides him

So many choices baby boy doesn’t know which one he likes best 🤔

Loves some tiddie-fucking

And cumming on dem boobies as well

“You look so good with my cum drippin down your tits.”

This bitch will be at work and ask for nudes smh

Of course he wants boobie pics - loves when you are topless and holding your breasts with your hands or simply just your cleavage down your shirt

“You’re always so good to me Babygirl. I’ll see you when I get home 😉”

Likes when you wear revealing tops

Of course he’ll about throw hands if someone's gaze stays a bit too long but he is proud of his baby and knows they are beautiful

Eren, unlike Reiner, is more outwardly pervy

Always encourages you not to wear a bra

“Your nipples are so cute, why wouldn’t you want to show them.”

Also you know he aint afraid to stare and when you catch him he’ll just give you a wink and a cocky smirk

Jean

Bonafide Booty Man!

Like Reiner, the size doesn’t matter!

Big or little - if he can grab he can vibe with it

This boy always has his hand on the butt any chance he gets

Cuddle Time? His hand will rubb and hold the booty

When y’all are making out? You best believe he’ll pull you real close and squeeze your ass

So safe to say that taking his s/o from behind is great booty access

Also reverse Cowgirl is a nice view as well

“Fuck, I love seeing your ass bounce on my cock.”

Loves to squeeze, jiggle and spank your butt

Also kissing and biting the cheeks are a yes in his book

Likes to bend over his s/o and go down on them from behind, having is tongue covered in their taste as his hands grope and smack their ass - sign him up

Likes days in at home with you, especially if you opt out of wearing pants - Pants are always optional in his household 😉

If he sees cheeks he’s a happy man

Expect to get little booty love taps &/or pinches while around him - mostly when it’s just you two at home

If you want to fluster him a bit give his ass a little smack/squeeze of your own

Likes when you send him pics but when he’s at work? He’ll have to breathe for a minute and leave the room if others are around

“Baby, should I get these?” - w/ a pic in a dressing room wearing a silky “pajama” short set that leaves little to the imagination; booty on full display of course

“Yes! 😍😍😍”

“My sweet girl, I want to see you in that when I get home.”

Big fan of leggings and high waisted pants on his s/o - all about extenuating that booty

Just tight pants in general tbh

If you ever come out in a little number and the booty is poppin he’ll grab your hand and make you do a little spin for him to get a full 360 view

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Hope you liked that! Want more? Let me know.

My requests are open for both regular and Kinktober - Make sure you read my guidelines :3

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cursestothemoon · 3 years

Text

A Cruel Favor

Regulus Black x Fem!Slytherin!Reader

Request: Could I get and angsty and sad blurb with Regulus? Nothing specific in mind, Regulus’ entire life is pretty tragic already- just throwing some strained and kind of heartbreaking romance into that mix sorry i like pain this is how i cope

Summary: Your relationship with the youngest Black brother in the form of memories seen in a pensieve by Sirius Black.

Warnings: Death, sadness, crying, the dark mark, ghosts

Word Count: 3265

Author's Note: babe you asked for a blurb and i just did not listen i am so sorry, if you'd still like a blurb let me know and i'll whip up a little short piece but regardless i hope you enjoy this 😌

“You didn’t know him! You didn’t want to know him!” Your voice bellowed, trembling with the burning anger you held in your heart for the eldest Black brother.

It was true, back when the war was just ‘politics’ and the ‘Dark Lord’ a name whispered behind closed doors, Sirius Black had already made up his mind about his family- Regulus included.

“He was my brother.” Sirius spoke the statement as if just the mere fact of relation was supposed to trump that he hadn't even spoken to his brother in the months prior to his death.

You let out a bitter laugh, “Don’t lie for the sake of saving face, you never saw him as a brother; not then and certainly not now.”

Sirius seemed taken aback by your accusation, his words getting lost on his tongue for a moment before he quickly regained his fiery passion for argument.

“He betrayed me.”

“You were the one who betrayed him!” Your accusatory finger pointed at Sirius.

The eldest Black brother’s features went stoney, “The moment he decided to get that mark, was the moment he lost his name as my brother.”

Everything in the mangey old house seemed to still, a silence falling so powerful you could hear a pin drop. Your slow footsteps were exaggerated in the quiet, each creak ringing in both yours and Sirius’ ears. With a tired hand, you pushed a small pouch onto the surface of the dining room table, the vials inside clinking together softly.

“They’re numbered.” You breathed out. “There is so much you don’t know, Sirius.”

You walked through the door and onto the street hastily, not wasting any time to apparate back home.

Sirius sat down in the nearest chair with a huff, his knees spread as his shoulders slid down the back of the chair. He hadn’t remembered just how far up his brother’s ass you were.

Roughly, he rubbed his face with his palms before lazily reaching for the dark velvet pouch on the table. The emerald green reminded him not only of his brother, but of his entire family, the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Sirius couldn’t help the groan that left his mouth at the memories of his family that seemed to plague his mind.

Fittingly, Sirius opened the pouch to reveal just that. The silvery, viscous tendrils that floated through each vial were immediately recognized by the pureblood. You had given him your memories...and a letter.

You deserve to know him.

Y/N L/N

Sirius’ curiosity regarding what secrets of his brother’s seemed to be swimming in the vials bubbled over, he was sure 12 Grimmauld Place was harbouring a pensieve somewhere within its walls, he’d just have to get up and find it.

17 October 1974

Barty Crouch Jr. was an insolent child, the type to collect bones and listen to them rattle. He had a nervous tick, his tongue slithering past his lips every so often in a manner that was so serpentine it made your skin prick.

“Come on then, L/N, be a good little girl and do as I say.”

You threw down your quill in frustration, “Bugger off, Crouch. I’ve said no.”

“Don't be like that,” Barty smirked, coming closer to where you were sitting. “It’s only some homework. You were going to do yours anyway, why not get some extra practice in by doing mine too?”

“I’d rather have unforgivables practiced on me than do anything you ask.”

His sickly sweet smile wasn’t one you were expecting, his voice low and threatening, “That can be arranged.”

Your blood ran cold as you watched his nimble fingers move toward his wand pocket in his robes. Truthfully, you should’ve known better. Being in the same house as Barty allowed you the luxury of hearing all the gossip surrounding him and his hobbies, dark magic and curses being at the top of that list.

“Barty.”

The cold baritone made the sandy-haired menace stop in his tracks, his face contorting into an expression of mild annoyance and frustration.

“There’s no need for you to be acting like a child. Quite humiliating asking someone else to do your work, isn’t it, Crouch? Are you too thick to get it done yourself?”

Barty turned to look at his friend, words jumbling as he tried to figure out how to get himself out of the hole he had dug.

“Reg-” The stone-like stare had Barty cowering and mouth snapping shut, the boy seemingly trying to fold in on himself.

With a simple nod of his head, Regulus directed the him to make himself useful elsewhere, but you were far too taken by the handsome boy in front of you to notice the stomping footsteps of Barty’s as he left. Of course you had known of Regulus Black, seen him from afar and even once had Transfiguration with him, but seeing him up close was an experience in and of itself. His skin was ghostly pale, hair dark and wavy as it fell just below his ears, and his cheekbones were high accentuating the slant of his nose. Regulus Black was beautiful, everything about him seemed to be placed just right and sculpted with the utmost care and attention.

He turned to you, your eyes meeting before he gave you an appraising look.

“Regulus.” His hand struck out, a rather rugged introduction.

Slowly, you took his hand in yours and proceeded to shake it. You couldn’t seem to rid yourself of the feeling that your hand was far too dirty, far too boring to be touching his, to even be near his.

“Y/n L/n, thank you- for that.” You were proud of yourself for not allowing your voice to shake.

“I’m sorry he was a bother.”

Regulus seemed to lack the ability of holding a conversation, he nodded- you assumed a goodbye- and got ready to make his way to the dorms.

“Wait,” Your voice came out before you could stop it. “You could stay, I’m almost done anyway. We could...talk.”

The suggestion had the boy's ears turning pink, his words coming out stuttered and jumbled, a stark contrast from the boy who had told off Barty so eloquently.

“If you- alright.”

You thought for a moment before speaking again, “You’re not very good at talking to people are you?”

“Excuse my blatant honesty, but you make me quite nervous.”

It was your turn to have your ears turn a soft hue of red, “I could say the same about you.”

5 April 1975

“Haven’t you got your own side of the blanket? Must you be so close to me?” You giggled, trying to roll away from Regulus while still avoiding the grass.

Regulus smiled, his eyes closing and nose scrunching in thought before he spoke, “I prefer to be close to you; making sure you won’t run out on me.”

Both of you began giggling, his head falling to nudge your shoulder. Ultimately, Regulus shuffled away from your side, allowing just about a foot of space in between your bodies. The wind rustled your hair as you turned your neck to look at the youngest Black as he sat up, his legs stretched and crossed at the ankles, arms propping himself up as his palms pressed flat against the floor.

It was no secret that Regulus was beautiful. His dark hair- now gently flowing in the cool breeze- stood out against his pale skin, freckles were dusted delicately over his aristocratic nose and sharp cheekbones. You could tell he’d never worked a day in his life with how handsome and soft his hands were. His fingers were long and slender, never dry or rough, and his nails perfectly trimmed and always clean.

Regulus Black was absolutely perfect and you were regretting ever complaining about his proximity.

You were quick to right your wrong, bashfully you raised yourself onto all fours and crawled over to your boyfriend. Regulus tried to hold in his smirk, avoiding turning to look at you directly but you could tell his resolve was breaking.

“Regulus…” You spoke his name with an innocent lilt, sitting back on your shins once you were close enough to have your knees touching his thigh.

He hummed, not giving you the satisfaction of having his full attention.

A huff of frustration fell past your lips at his stubbornness as you threw your leg over his thighs, straddling his legs just above his knees. His composure was thinning, a wide smile threatening to spread across his thin lips.

“You’re far too close,” he teased, his hand coming up as if trying to stop you from getting any closer. “I believe you are on my side of the blanket, L/n.”

“Don’t be so fickle, Black.”

Regulus’ pale blue eyes found yours, his delicate hand coming up to run across the delicate collar of your dress.

“It’s in my nature isn’t it?” His eyes held a certain sadness that you could not place, one you wouldn’t see again until a few years later.

Your lips parted to respond to him, only to be interrupted by a Hogwarts ghost floating nearby. It was a ghost neither you nor Regulus were familiar with and as she passed she mumbled something- rather spitefully- about young love. The event had your train of thought derailed, a quiet giggle erupting from your throat as the transparent, deceased woman floated on.

Regulus seemed to find the woman just as amusing as you did, his eyes crinkling with laughter as you two now looked at each other in fits of hysterics.

“Oh her poor soul!” You exclaimed, eyes looking off in the direction she had gone. “If you were a ghost, Reg, where would you haunt with your undead presence.”

His expression contorted into one of reminiscence, “Uncle Alphard’s cherry orchard just a few kilometers from Monts de Venasque. When we were little, Sirius and I would play in the trees. I could sit in those cherry trees for hours, everything just seemed to disappear. Alphard’s been burned off the tapestry since, but he’s left the property in my possession along with the small house on the land. I think if I were to choose one place to spend eternity, it would be there.”

You smiled softly at his answer.

“And you?” He asked, bringing you out of your lovesick haze.

“Me?” You chuckled. “I’d suppose my eternity would be well spent as long as I was somewhere with you.”

28 June 1976

It seemed the entirety of 12 Grimmauld Place shook with how hard Sirius had slammed the front door.

He was gone.

Completely and entirely gone.

And Regulus was completely and entirely alone now.

Regulus swiftly made his way up the stairs and to his room, just barely avoiding a collision with the poor house elf.

“Y/n’s room.” The words were spoken clearly and concisely as the floo powder fell from his shaky hands.

The time of night- 2:27 am- was of little importance to Regulus, he needed to see you.

You woke up with a jolt, the sound of someone stumbling into your room and panicked mumbling doing nothing to ease your nerves though the mop of dark curls had your heart calming down.

“Reg?”

He turned to look at you with heartbroken eyes, watery and bloodshot.

“He’s gone.” He choked out.

You kicked the blankets off yourself and stood up from your bed, bare feet hitting the cold floor.

Keeping a calm tone you slowly got closer to him, “Who’s gone, love?”

His pain was so evident, rolling off him in waves, “Sirius- he’s not coming back.”

“Oh,” You sighed, treading lightly. “I’m sur-”

“No!” He cried, “Burned off the tapestry, probably with the Potters- he’s gone an-and he left me with them.”

Regulus’ anguish, tear stained cheeks, had your own eyes welling with unshed tears. It was clear words would do nothing to calm him, instead you opted for pushing yourself into him and taking his crying form into your arms. His body seemed to give out as you held him, his tears soaking your shirt as he wailed into your neck.

Neither of you could tell how long you stood in the middle of your room seemingly holding him together, but his cries subsided into gentle whimpers and the occasional sniffle as his nose nudged the side of your neck.

His voice came out rough and strained, just barely above a whisper, “Please don’t- don’t leave me like Si- like he did.”

You could feel your heart shatter, “Wouldn’t dream of it, darling.”

“I don’t know how I would’ve survived in this mess if I had never known you.”

Your breath came out ragged as you spoke the truest words you've ever dared to speak, “My heart beats for you, Regulus.”

30 December 1979

His forearm itched.

It seemed to always have an odd itch ever since he was sixteen.

Regulus watched your form get closer, bundled in a thick overcoat and a dark blue scarf- Christmas present from himself- wrapped neatly around your neck. You were the picture of beauty, like a living doll with your soft smile and adoring eyes.

“My love.” You greeted him, leaning in to place a soft kiss against his cold cheek.

His eyes seemed distant, your only greeting a tight lipped smile.

Your eyebrows knit together, “Everything alright?”

Regulus nodded, his eyes swimming with a sadness so familiar, “Just taking you in.”

He pulled off his leather gloves, stuffing them deep in his coat pocket before reaching his hand out to hold your jaw, his thumb running across your skin. The action was comforting and you couldn’t help but close your eyes to savour the feeling of his thumb caressing your cheekbone.

You let out a small gasp when you felt him take your lips in a slow kiss. It was passionate, loving, yet there was a certain finality to it that had a shiver run up your spine in the most unpleasant way.

“I have the cruelest favor to ask of you, and I can only hope you’ll forgive me once I do.”

Your stomach dropped, “What do you mean, Regulus? What- what favor?”

“Please, try to understand-”

“What favor?”

“I couldn’t-”

“Tell me what the favor is, Regulus.”

Your voice had an edge to it that made him compose himself almost instantly.

He took a breath before speaking, his eyes looking off somewhere behind you as he spoke, “He’s getting stronger.”

You didn’t need to ask who this ‘he’ was, the tone made it very clear.

“He has these… horcruxes. Incredibly dark magic, I don't know how many but I know of one. It’s hidden and I’ve found out the location, I can destroy it I know I can but-”

His tone was hushed and your heart rate had started to pick up speed.

“But you don’t know if you’ll live to tell the tale?” You asked with a humorless laugh.

The look in Regulus’ eyes had told you, you were right.

“I can’t let him continue. If this could stop him, weaken him even, it’s worth whatever the consequence to myself may be.” He argued.

You pushed yourself further from him, “I can’t- I won’t lose you. No, there’s no way.”

His expression shifted into one of sorrow and pleading, “I have to.”

And you knew there was no changing his mind.

You bit the side of your lip anxiously, looking at the ground before asking, “And this favor?”

The heartbreak was almost palpable, his voice going raw.

“I cannot be fully prepared to do anything that is necessary to destroy this horcrux if-”

He cut himself off with an intake of breath.

“If I know you’ll be waiting for my return, if I know what I have to leave behind I may be tempted to not go through with my plan.”

You couldn’t help but feel and look horrified, “What are you asking of me, Regulus?”

He seemed to flinch at the tone of your voice, a tone you’d never used before and one he couldn’t name.

“I need you to obliviate yourself from my memory.”

It felt as though your chest had collapsed in on itself, “I-I couldn-”

“You have to!” Regulus cried, his arms gripping the sides of your face as you couldn’t help but let a choked sob escape from your lips. “It’s the only way I’ll be able to go through with it, I can't know that there’s a possibility of leaving you.”

“Please, Regulus, you can’t ask this of me.” You choked out, searching his eyes for some sort of humor, something that told you it was all a cruel joke.

He pressed his lips against your forehead, both of your eyes closing as you two took in short, ragged breaths.

Everything seemed darker. The flowers in the Black garden were cold and dead, the snow wasn’t snow at all, instead dangerous sheets of ice. It was then you realized the war, the death eaters, everything had become so real.

“There is a letter on your bed at home, I’ve settled everything for you. I’m going to stand against the pillar, my back to you, and you are going to do it from behind the hedges so we won’t see each other after. You need to leave once it’s done alright?”

You nodded solemnly, knowing there was no use in fighting it. The cause was bigger than you, bigger than Regulus. Everyone made sacrifices, this just had to be yours.

“My heart beats for you, Y/n, whether I know it or not.”

“And mine for you, Regulus.” You smiled sadly, pulling his wrist up to your face and pulling back his sleeve to reveal his dark mark, pressing a kiss to the skin you spoke, “You aren’t them, you never were and you never will be.”

Regulus smiled but said nothing as he lowered his arms and put his gloves back on. With slow steps he walked to the pillar and looked back at you one last time.

“I’m just taking you in.” He whispered, before slowly turning.

You took your wand from your coat as you took even slower steps to stand just far enough for him not to notice you after it had been done. Regulus felt his resolve crumble with each crunch of your boots against the frozen ground, his eyes screwed shut- tears rolling down his face freely- as he prepared for what was coming.

With a shaky hand you raised your wand.

“Obliviate.”

Present

Sirius seemed to be thrown back from the pensieve, as if the memory had rejected him from viewing any longer, still sensitive. He felt an odd tickling sensation run down his cheek, his hand raising to brush away a stray tear as he fell into a nearby chair.

He never knew…

***

You pushed open the backdoor of your small home, the warm scent of cherry trees welcoming you. The sun was just barely starting to set as you looked off into the horizon of the vast field of trees, if you looked long enough you could make out the handsome silhouette of a boy you once knew sitting up in a cherry tree.

Only a few short months later, the lone figure would be joined by another… a brother.

tags:

@amourtentiaa

@vsawyer1989

@lifeofkaze

@siriusement

@erinruby003

@maybesandohnos

@onlyfreds

@tayyx

#regulus black x reader #regulus black x y/n #regulus black blurb #regulus black imagine #regulus black x fem!reader #marauders era

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simp-cityxx · 3 years

Text

It’s Showtime~

A Toji Fushiguro x Fem! Reader fic (NSFW)

Summary: Your lowkey malewife Fushiguro comes to pick you up from work, but you have some ulterior plans for the night…

Warnings: Praise, Degradation, Lots of dirty talk, spanking, breeding, possessiveness; other general smutty stuff (read at your own risk)

A/N: so yea, Nanami and Toji exist simultaneously in this story which doesn’t make sense (but that’s hawt so) but yk what else doesn’t make sense? THE WORD MALEWIFE AND TOJI BEING REMOTELY CLOSE TO ONE ANOTHER! But yeh enjoy

—

“Late again, huh.”

As you walked under the dim streetlight, Toji opened up your passenger door before crossing his arms with a blank stare on his face.

“Sorry. Nanami just needed someone to stay back and help file a few-“

He slithers a hand on your waist as the other tilts your chin. “Yeah princess, whatever.” Although his approach is far from polite, you’re far too focused on his touches to come up with a witty response. The way his words, gazes, and touches were coated with gracefulness but tinged with urgency drove you wild. It was far from erratic but not essentially delicate…this must’ve been the delicious taste of experience, and you were set for sails just thinking about it.

“What am I going to do with you…” he chuckles, pulling you into a kiss; one that feels almost too intimate. You grip onto his tight shirt with his toned muscles enclosed, leaving you practically gasping for air.

The kiss finally calms down and you hop in the front seat of Toji’s car. It always puzzled you how the man was able to afford such a lavish car on his own, Given the fact that he often took on the role of your “househusband”. You focused your attention as Fushiguro unexpectedly brushed a lose piece of hair out of your face. Even such a simple gesture had your thighs squeezing together, tensing up as the engine started.

“So why does that blondie keep working you so late anyways?”, He sits his hand on his chin.

“I think it’s simply the fact that im the only one who fully understands Mr.Nanami’s file systems.”

He chuckles, “Bullshit. Your boss totally has the hots for ya.” Trying to conceal his feelings on the matter, he opts to keeping his blank stare on the road.

You rolls your eyes, “You know it’s not like that.”

“Well if even if it was, you know I’m still your man,” he shoots you a toothy smile, god he was so hot when he smiled…

You giggle, rolling your eyes.

“You are so damn corny.”

The rest of the ride is quiet, as you’re caught up in your own head. This relationship with the sorcerer killer had been such a whirlwind, even after about three months. His arrogant and flirtatious demeanor never gave any indication that he would want to ‘slow down’, but somehow you were able to mellow him out. In some ways at least.

Before you knew it Toji was opening the passenger door.

“Baby,…..y/n”, He tapped your shoulder as you had kinda zoned out.

“Oh yeah sorry”, you stood up, only to immediately get tossed over the mans broad shoulder, sneakily hoisting you up with a hand on your ass.

“IM NOT YOUR FUCKIN WORM PUT ME DOWN!”

“Huh?”

Without batting an eye, he puts you down as soon as the front door opens.

……..

Walking into the bedroom, you decide to throw on something a little more…causal. (Something you really know will get him going). You grab one of Fushiguro’s oversized collared shirts, leaving it open to expose the skimpy new lingerie you had just bought. Although not something you felt totally comfortable in, one of your office friends insisted you buy it for a night just like this.

You sluggishly walk into the kitchen where dinner is prepared, stretching your spine with a heavy yawn, before glaring up at Toji’s ample chest, merely covered by a black apron.

The raven haired man looks towards you, almost as if he hasn’t noticed your change in attire. You sit down for your meal, a little disappointed at the lack of reaction from your man. You finish up dinner and sluggishly stumble to the living room. Toji is sitting with eyes unenthusiastically glued to the tv. As you make your way over to join him, you feel a tight grip placed on your hip, pulling you into a rather compromising position.

“I told you last time about wearing satin..”

The words crinkle in your ear, causing your spine to tingle. (He has a thing for satin, lordt knows why)

The muscular man begins to spank you, causing an unexpected moan to escape.

“Shhhh.” A deep sinister grin is painted on his face. “There’s no use in screaming anything but my name sweetie.” God, you hated the way his corniness turned you on.

He persisted, already pushing you to the brink as he increased the intensity through his large palm. occasionally he paused to admire his dirty work, placing the gentlest caresses on your stinging ass before causing you to whimper once again.

You were already panting when Toji positioned you in his arms bridal style. “Tired already dollface? But I haven’t had my way with you yet…”

Fuck. You clench your legs as the heat between your legs intensifies. The raven haired man picks up and shoots one of his grins, floppy hair covering his emerald eyes. You could just die right here.

Gently laying his prized possession on the bed, he positions himself in front of you as you undress him. He throws the apron to the side and wastes no time utterly demolishing the lacey lingere you had picked out for him.

“Toji! That was expensive!”

He merely shrugs it off. “Black card is on the desk babe. You don’t even need all this frilly shit to get me to fuck you.” You cross your arms and avert your gaze; pretending this isn’t the exact outcome you wanted.

“Pout all you want, but your body tells me everything I need to know princess.” As he whispers, He glides a finger over your drenched folds, causing you to release the most sickening moan to ever escape your lips.

“I never knew you were this much of a slut for me. We’ve barely even started…”

As much as you want to give a witty response, his electric fingers slip and stretch inside you, leaving you breathless. You burn all over as he leaves intense marks and kisses all over your skin.

“Stammering already?” He grabs your chin and leans in, pressed against your chest.

“How pathetic. Guess we’ll have to teach you a lesson in manners…” with that he growls, slinging your delicate legs over his broad shoulders. As he leaves kisses on your soft thighs, you shudder in ecstasy. He lets out a chuckle.

“You’re so cute when you tense up like that. Just relax; I’ll take care of it.”

Swiftly he begins unrelentingly devouring you. Kisses pepper your sopping cunt, accompanying the intoxicating hums he makes on your bud. Even with your screams and cries, he only lets up when you finally come.

“Good girl. Now can you do something for me?”

As you nod, he sits you down on the edge of the bed. He positions himself in front of you, giving you a clear look at his egregiously long and thick member. It’s a wonder the thing fit inside you.

“I’m just in need of a little warmup. Think you can handle it sweet heart?”

You nod, regaining your composure.

“Yes sir.”

With that, you take as much of his 13 inches as you can fit in your mouth, but as he hits the back of your throat you begin to choke. Noticing, he slides himself out.

“Don’t overextend yourself little whore. Just the tip is fine…”

After affirming his words, you use your methodical tongue to play with his cock, causing him to release little fucks and hisses from the back of his throat. The way you fit him so well always got him going.

You giggle, “who’s stammering now?”

Teasing him was a big mistase. He furrows his brow and pulls away from you leaving you hungry for more.

“Enough. Lay down skank.”

There was no saving you now. It was much too late. You just guaranteed you’d need to use one your sick days just to recuperate. He pins you down by the wrists and starts biting hard onto your chest, causing you to whimper.

“You thought you were real slick huh.”

“I was only-“

Before you can even finish your sentence, the space in between your legs is stuffed full. He pounds hard into your throbbing cunt, amused by your gasps for air, and leaning down occasionally to leave you kisses. He was just too good, from his dirty talk to the slightest of touch, he just knew every little way to turn you to mush. He grinned as he put a hand to your stomach, feeling his cock penetrate you to your highest capacity. He was so proud have pleasured you in such a way, falling in love with the ways you screamed his name, the way your clever ass could turn into this love drunk fool with no one but him. The love he made between your thighs was proof enough that you could be no one but his. Toji may have been a master of his craft, but the way you wrapped around him even left him begging for more.

As you bucked your hips into him, Toji positioned you on top of him.

“It’s time baby.”

He released more of his intoxicating sounds as you both found yourself on the brink of climax. You pleaded for him to stuff you full, so he did just that, speeding up by grabbing your hips before one final thrust, leaving your thighs shaking around his burning shaft. You were all his as you laid there, dazed by just how amazing the feeling it was.

“You did so well for me today honey. I’m glad you learned your lesson.”

He placed a kiss onto your forehead before getting up to draw you a bath.

—

Oh lordt have mercy </3

#toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji thirst #toji fushiguro #nsft post #malewife

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

Note

For your suddenly omegaverse au what exactly happened? Like I think obiwan and Anakin hop over from cannon verse to omegaverse but I am unclear on if there already existed obiwan and Anakin in omegaverse. Did they die early or do they just not exist or are they just not force sensitive and therefore not a part of the order? Is there still a sith conspiracy around Anakin?

Context: Original Post, Surrogacy, Worldbuilding, Obi-Mom, Soap Operas

So, from the original post:

There is no preexisting Anakin in the Omegaverse

Obi-Wan and Anakin just straight up don’t exist until they drop headfirst into the council room, already covered in blood.

To clarify: There has never been an Anakin Skywalker in this AU. There has never been an Obi-Wan Kenobi.

They don't know this for sure when they land in the AU, though. All they know is that the Jedi have no record of either of them. They figure, well, maybe they just got lost in the shuffle. Anakin wasn't found until he was nine, after all, and that was only by great coincidence.

The rest of this post has almost no mention of the omegaverse elements, FYI.

Warning: References to the Tusken massacre, explicit sedation and isolation of a mentally unstable individual threatening violence.

I don’t want to make light of institutionalization and involuntary holds, but Anakin is a character with a history of violence talking about repeating such an act, and that’s... a bit of an extreme case.

------

It's not that hard to convince the Temple to let them run a mission that lets them stop by Tatooine or Stewjon. Anakin cares a lot more, so Tatooine it is! Obi-Wan can tell there's something sketchy going on with Anakin's particular anxiety about this, but he rolls with it. Anakin was very specific about the timing for some reasons, and at this point, it's easier to just let it all play through.

They go well after the whole “congrats, you’re omegas... somehow,” thing has happened, a month or so before Geonosis would have happened. Obi-Wan has managed to help the council sabotage and delay the Separatist side of the war enough that they’ve gained... maybe a few weeks, maybe a few months. Just a little more time to keep a few more people alive. Nobody’s reached out to Kamino yet, and Jango isn’t staging a failed assassination to draw someone in, either. They’ve bought enough time for Anakin to spend his vacation time checking in on his mom seeing if he exists here, and Obi-Wan can go with him.

They get to Tatooine. They wander about, and Anakin doesn't actually explain where they're going, but takes them straight to where the Lars farm is. Obi-Wan lets Anakin tell him that it was the Force that led him to the right area. Anakin can sense that his mom is in there, and Obi-Wan chalks up the relief from his former padawan to 'she's here and we don't have to look for her.'

Anakin is... panicking. Just a bit. What if he shows up and it turns out this reality's Anakin is off doing something completely unrelated and she realizes he's the wrong person? Or what if she doesn't recognize him and he calls her Mom anyway? What if he fucks up and says something stupid or just starts crying on her? She'll think he's insane.

Obi-Wan... takes over.

Anakin stays hidden, listening. Obi-Wan knocks on the door, and asks if there's a 'Shmi Skywalker' in residence. Someone in town mentioned her. He explains that he has a young friend of about twenty years--they're not sure, exactly, because the friend doesn't know his own birthday, but it's about there--who happens to be a Skywalker, and they're trying to see if they can reconnect him with a parent. They don't have much to go off of other than the surname... the Shmi that lives here wouldn't happen to have ever had any children about that age?

No. She hasn't had any children of her own blood, actually, her only child is her stepson, but she'd be happy to meet this other Skywalker, if he's in the area. It's always nice to find family, and connecting with those that were separated from you is a big deal on Tatooine. She's not going to look a gift bantha in the mouth.

(Cliegg, dear, put down the rifle.)

Obi-Wan promises to let his friend know, bids them goodbye, and goes to find Anakin.

Anakin is having a bit of a breakdown.

As one does.

Anakin insists that they stick around for a bit, that they do what they can to protect the farm, because that's his mom, even if she's not really his mom, and Obi-Wan can tell there's a Lot Going On here. He assumes it's because Anakin's upset his mom doesn't know him, which is a little irrational on account of their two options being "Anakin doesn't exist (and so Shmi doesn't know him)" and "Anakin does exist (but Shmi doesn't know this Anakin, so she still doesn't know him)," but Anakin's not a very rational person.

Obi-Wan thinks tamping down the current crisis is probably a little more important than chastising Anakin's attachment issues, mostly because Anakin's hands are shaking, and he's looking a little wild-eyed, and like. Obi-Wan's not great at dealing with Anakin's many and varied emotions, but he's learned at some point when it's best to just... roll with it Until There's Less Risk of Stab or Sobbing Laughter.

He helps figure out some minor fuckery with the Force to hide the family in the homestead behind them from visitors, and to warn them to hide when someone comes by. It’s not a lot--mostly just meditating and asking the Force for a helping hand--but it’s nice.

Except, well, Anakin keeps fidgeting. He keeps panicking. He has them coming back almost daily for a week, always too scared to talk to his mom but insistent on protecting her, and always looking at the calendar. Obi-Wan wants to get back to the Temple, but whatever the actual hell is going on with Anakin is too big to just ignored.

A specific day comes and goes. Anakin is a mess of jitters and nerves, and finally Obi-Wan asks just the wrong (right?) question, and... they visit Shmi.

Anakin says they can talk later, he just wants to see his mom One Last Time.

(Obi-Wan is getting more and more worried, but he sits through the incredibly awkward meeting between Anakin and his alt-universe mom, watches as Anakin has no idea what to say and almost cries, and Shmi just kind of lets him do that and Beru--a sweet girl, Obi-Wan thinks, and very practical--tells him that this is all very normal for reunited slaves.)

(Obi-Wan wonders if maybe there’s some stuff Anakin never told him about how being a slave affected him.)

(Obi-Wan had thought they’d moved past most of this, but..)

The meeting ends. There’s hugging.

They get back to the ship, and Obi-Wan gets to watch Anakin fall apart. Obi-Wan gets to watch Anakin cry and scream into a pillow, hyperventilate and nearly punch a hole in the wall as he rages about how it was all for nothing! Obi-Wan gets to watch Anakin break into a million pieces in a way he’s never seen before.

Obi-Wan gets a confession.

Anakin tells him about the Tuskens.

It’s not an easy conversation. It’s not a short conversation, either. Anakin’s full of pain and misery and rising guilt, talks about how he’s been asking himself if it would be easier to keep his mother safe if he just killed them all now, except Obi-Wan would know, and be disappointed, and sure the Chancellor had said that they were little more than rabid animals, but Anakin doesn’t think he can kill the younglings again when his mom is still fine, and--

Obi-Wan sedates him.

He wants to say that he’s not proud of this, but... Anakin isn’t well. Anakin isn’t well in a way that is currently, specifically, revolving around doing extreme violence. Anakin is talking about going out and committing a slaughter as preventative maintenance.

Anakin stays sedated until they get back to the Temple, and he’s put in Force-suppressant cuffs--Obi-Wan quietly tells them to use something that can’t be sliced or taken apart by a droid specialist, and to avoid collars because Anakin was a slave for nearly a decade, and has a lot of traumatic associations--and in an isolated room.

It’s not a cell. Not technically.

He can’t just leave, though.

Obi-Wan hates himself for it, just a little. He doesn’t want to be doing this, not to his padawan, his brother, his son, but... a massacre. Even the younglings, he’d said.

(“He said he didn’t think he could do it again,” Obi-Wan mutters, half to himself and half to the mind healer that asks for his rundown of the situation. “I think he knows it was wrong, but...”)

(But he still did it, of course.)

It’s... better than Obi-Wan feared, but worse than he hoped.

Anakin is emotionally unstable. He has been, for a long time, but he’s usually functional. When the mind healer isn’t directly poking at his worst wounds, Anakin can more or less pass for... not okay, necessarily, but no worse than anyone else in the war had. He can say the right words. He can do a joint meditation. He can talk about philosophy the way a Knight that’s taken all the right classes does.

But part of Anakin still holds to the idea that the Tuskens deserved to die.

“This is my fault,” Obi-Wan whispers, more than once, resting his head in his hands, elbows on his knees. “I should have...”

“He was an adult,” says Mace, who isn’t Mace, not the one that Obi-Wan knows, but a newer friend, one that’s still figuring how to act around him. “Young, but still an adult. He made that choice.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t answer. Things aren’t that simple.

“The timing can’t have been a coincidence,” Obi-Wan mutters to himself, later on, but in the same spot, and the same position.

The Quinlan of this universe shrugs. He knows Obi-Wan better than most, right now. Psychometry’s helpful that way, and sharing Obi-Wan’s heat hadn’t hurt. “Seems likely. You said Sith were involved and setting traps, and a kid like yours, with that much power and trauma... ripe for the molding.”

Obi-Wan whines, and then catches the noise and stuffs it back down, locks it up tight with the other ‘instinct’ things he doesn’t like to think about having. The sound already has Quinlan shifting closer, and the smell is... intended to be comforting, he thinks. Reacting to his own distress, which he’s probably just pumping out right now, because he still doesn’t know how to--

“Can I help?” Quinlan asks, and Obi-Wan lets him.

Someone gets through to Anakin, maybe, or he just lets himself be ground down, or Obi-Wan’s entreaties that he can’t teach Ahsoka until he understands his crimes get through. He won’t be trusted around the clones until the Jedi can trust him to do the right thing, they inform him.

“I wouldn’t hurt the clones.”

“Nobody’s going to believe that until you understand your crimes and truly, actually feel remorse for them.”

There wasn’t a crime, technically. Not in this universe. That tribe is still alive, here, unknowing of the fate they escaped by dint of Anakin talking himself down from committing another slaughter.

(He tells the mind healer it’s because Obi-Wan was there.)

(He might have done it, he says, if he hadn’t thought Obi-Wan would be disappointed in him.)

(He says it like it’s a foregone conclusion, that Obi-Wan’s opinion is worth more than the horror of what he might become.)

“We’re going to keep an eye on anyone talking to Palpatine,” Shaak tells him one day, after Anakin’s been mental instability hold for two weeks. “We don’t know for sure how far the similarities extend from your universe to ours, but given everything else you’ve been right about...”

“That bad?” Obi-Wan asks.

Shaak grimaces, fangs glinting in the light. “I want to believe we’d have never allowed a child into such a position, but I can’t know what political leverage may have been used in your dimension... whatever reason was had to put Skywalker in those rooms, we know the consequences now--”

“What did he do to my padawan?” Obi-Wan demands, because Anakin won’t even tell him that. Anakin hasn’t mentioned Palpatine since they left Tatooine. Not to Obi-Wan.

“Nothing physical,” Shaak manages. “But the lies he told and the suggestions he planted... it’s good they haven’t met again yet in this life. We’ll all be keeping them far apart.”

He wants to take solace in that. “Why do you know before I do?”

“Skywalker values your opinion,” she says. “Only yours. He doesn’t want you more disappointed in him than you already are, so much of what is relayed to the council as a matter of security goes no further, but this was deemed necessary to share. He agreed to it, if you worried we’d broken his confidence.”

Anakin’s therapy would normally be entirely private.

Anakin’s therapy would normally not be in response to confessions of mass slaughter.

He hasn’t asked to be let out, which Obi-Wan hopes is a sign that he realizes at least subconsciously that he was in the wrong. The mind healer says he could have been released under watch by a Master probably a day or two after he arrived, but seems to be drawing some kind of comfort in knowing he couldn’t hurt someone even if he tried.

Obi-Wan is Anakin’s emergency contact. His next of kin. His healthcare proxy. Anakin has a right to privacy, minor as it is in such a situation, and everyone recognizes and treats him as an adult, but... Obi-Wan learns as much from the mind-healer as he would have back when Anakin was actually a child.

“He trusts you to make the right decisions,” the mind healer tells him, careful and unassuming. “He has... a lot of conflicting opinions about many things, including the order, the coming war, the nature of human reproductive dynamics, the Code... but he seems keen on the idea that you are his best reference on morality and ethics.”

Oh, good, more horrifying responsibility.

“He’s better,” the mind healer tells him. “I want to get him out of here before he starts going stir crazy while still relying on the perceived safety as a crutch for his mental health. And he--”

“He’ll be staying with me,” Obi-Wan says, heavy as anything. “I know.”

“Well... there’s a war coming,” the mind healer says. She offers a thin smile when he looks at her. “I don’t want him going out, but it makes him feel useful, gives him a direction for the aggression, and... the Council is adamant that we’ll need him as much as we need you.”

It’s true.

“Did he tell you why everyone called him the Hero With No Fear?”

“No.”

“Ask him.”

#Anakin Skywalker #Obi Wan Kenobi #Shmi Skywalker #Mace Windu #Quinlan Vos #Shaak Ti #time travel #omegaverse #SW Suddenly Omegaverse #Phoenix Answers Asks #phoenix posts #Tusken Massacre #death mention #dehumanization mention #institutionalization tw #involuntary hold tw #sedation tw #involuntary sedation tw

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worldsover · 3 years

Text

New Home ft. Yena

length ✦ 7953

genres ✧ rewriting/expanding @nsfwtwicecatcher’s quickie, Pet; ‘master’; breathplay; kitten!Yena

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Books left unread on a coffee table, post-it notes on the wall reminding family members to get their laundry done, a whiteboard on the fridge with scribbled-up plans for what to eat. Saturday. The whiteboard is empty today. It has been for months. The post-it notes are for people who have long since moved and the books are never going to be read. Your house was messier when you first settled into it. Now home is just the steel and concrete walls, gorgeous architecture yet too much space for one person. Home is a lonely place. Even though you’re a social person, especially with the nature of your work, you haven’t truly been social in a while. It’s only half not your fault with lockdown and whatnot. Unfortunately, there’s no substituting what actually makes a place cozy: remnants of everyday human life.

The next best thing is a pet.

Bright and wide eyes flick up to meet yours when you open your front door. Your pet is below you. Even in the simple action of her glare, her alluring voice rings out in your mind and calls you with the million words of urgent pleading. Only feet below you when you glance down, yet she is far further underneath. Clay isn’t as easy to mold. The girl knows her place so well; she even has the keycode to it. Not that your home is her own. Not yet, at least.

She shudders. Under the appetite of those eyes draw a few tired lines. Living a similar life to hers, you would have more sympathy, that is, if your bulge weren’t straining so much. Or if she hadn’t missed a weekend with her busy schedule.

As she kneels down, the moonlight silhouettes a distinct outline of her fine curves through the grand windows of the foyer.

Maybe if her bare body weren’t so provocative, you would be a little more lenient. Besides, lenience in this situation would probably constitute dragging her to the couch, mounting her plush chest and giving her a little extra time to inhale.

Small hands fold into her lap and she patiently anticipates her orders. Clothes scatter the floor of the entrance hallway. Her soaked underwear to her right, black lace bra to the left, and in between them, an expensive black dress.

She had a picture wearing that dress on her Instagram story—your garden was its colorful backdrop. Good thing you know a thing or two about privacy yourself, keeping your collection of flowers for your own eyes. Otherwise, there would be a lot of questions, articles, and red circles with red arrows making the obvious connection.

The only thing left on her body is a metal chain collar and a smile. It’s a cheeky simper, a proud grin where the corner of her mouth curls up just a pinch more than usual. She understands its effect. Beautiful pale skin, silky smooth legs. Tight toned stomach, large soft breasts and a perfectly round ass. Cherry red lips that belong to you, lips that stain your body when you demand them. Yet more than all of that, her smile incites a fire within you, and she knows your need to wipe it off her face even when she isn’t doing anything wrong or mischievous.

People play games with pets. You don’t keep a pet just to watch it wander. Well, not true, your aquarium in the living room is little more than decoration. However, this pet is active and eager, even when she kneels nearly motionless. Tilt her chin up and gaze intently into her eyes; desire shines through their dark color.

"Name?” you ask.

“Yena.”

“Incorrect. Try again.”

“Sorry.”

Tug on the collar and Yena bites her lip, stifling the escape of a breath that she holds in. “Still wrong.”

She knows the right answer but she knows, more importantly, how you need to punish her mistakes and how she wants you to treat her. A stronger tug urges a response though her voice first comes out as choked noises. “Agh—I have no name. I am nothing but a toy for my master.”

“Good girl,” you say, loosening your grip. Run fingers through her raven locks and firmly grab them. Yena's head jerks back. The grit you add to your voice is unintentional, but it helps. “Who do you belong to?”

“You, master. My only purpose is to serve you and give you pleasure.” Her words are shaky but they're also genuine in their imploring.

“Never forget that.” Caress her chin then her cheek which you give a gentle slap. Her thighs close shut. “Wet already?”

No need to touch Yena to know that she drips from between those full thighs. It’s in her loose eyes that your stare probes deeper into, the firm nubs that her pretty breasts flaunt, and the ragged breaths that she lets slip her mouth. “Yes, master.”

“Do you expect me to do something about that?” you ask, giving her surprisingly ample tits a harsh slap, their recoil enchanting you. When you watched her from the sidelines, only a few of her stage outfits boasted this key quality of hers. Now they're laid bare for you to play with as you please.

“No, master. My pleasure always comes second.”

Yena whimpers, clenches her thighs tighter, and heightens her pitch with every strike until those whimpers are mewls. Spank her tits again repeatedly, each smack louder than the last. “Good answer.”

The sharp pain only wrings forth more wetness from her pussy.

“Good kitten as well. At least you know better than to make a mess of the floor. Whatever.” A final smack on those tits, leaving red the same shape as your hand. “Against the window.”

No hesitation. Yena straightens her posture and retreats so that her head and back are flat against the tall glass wall behind her.

“Take these off,” you demand.

Yena’s hands move with a dancer’s grace to unzip them. Free at last. Her eyes widen as they always do at the erection standing tall, overcasting her face. Your pet wets her lips with her tongue, careful not to touch you lacking your permission since she is a millimeter away and the slightest breeze would cause that tongue to touch your dick.

You know her defiance leads to the same result. You know that cock is going down her throat either way.

You know she just wants to be a good girl.

“You know what to do.”

Her lips press the tip of your dick with a careful urgency, decorating it with its first red smudge of many. A bit of spit, a bit more lipstick, she leaves fresh marks wherever she can. There’s plenty of shaft for her to kiss around, a lot of flesh for her to worship. At times, she’s hungry and rushed but at others, Yena slows down and adores your erection properly.

She’s a lot easier to satisfy than most pets. Even your fish need the right amount of food, the ample space they take up, and sufficient oxygen in the water.

Meanwhile, you don’t have to put in any work for your dick to be so hard for her. If anything, Yena is the one working hard, licking at your length like it’s a treat. Her tongue is insatiable, elongated all the way out of her mouth. Several swipes, but it’s not enough; Yena must taste all of your cock, as though it were her favorite candy. Despite how hard she tries, all she licks away is the red lip stains on your shaft.

By a simple nudge of your hand, you wrest control of your cock away from her and find out just how wanton your kitten is.

Yena is depraved.

When you depreciated her, she was delighted, appreciative.

Now she’s depressed, deprived of her carnal confection depressed on the pillows of her lips.

“Awwh,” Yena whines and pouts. Animalistic instincts tell her to open her mouth wide and stick out her pink tongue again. Slapping your dick on it several times, her eyes signal her readiness—not that you would wait for her.

Your swollen tip parts her delicious plump lips when they tighten around your hard flesh. She does the work, by sucking softly and hollowing her cute puffy cheeks for your width. It feels luscious but you want it to feel better. You don’t intend on delaying any longer, only waiting for her to bob her head for you to get the right angle. Your hands rest on either side of her head while your fingers wrap in her silky hair. Keep her skull pressed against the wall as you bury your shaft down her throat.

“Ahk,” Yena gags. Apparently experience doesn’t help since she always gags, in spite of how many times she swallows your dick. You don’t care because you thrive on the sounds she makes. The slurping and gagging noises when you fuck her pretty mouth against the wall are music to your ears. Her eyes water as you shove your length into her mouth like the toy she is. Though warm and familiar, you never mistake that familiarity with her throat as bland because her tight muscles are the perfect sleeve for your cock to piston into.

“Take it all, kitten,” you growl, her cute nose meeting your stomach with every thrust. Streaks of mascara drip down her face, her makeup beyond repair as she hungrily chokes on every inch of cock.

Your pet is reduced to pure sloppiness, the only thing pure about her. Her lips spew drool like a leaky faucet, turning her breasts into a glistening mess. It's the way Yena looks at you and begs for rougher treatment with a pouty glance before your hips put in overtime to use her face against the wall without any care for her comfort. However, that look inspires an uncharacteristic kindness from you. In a way.

“Touch yourself. You’ve earned a little pleasure.”

“Th-thank you, master,” your pet replies when you exit her ravaged mouth for a moment. Her voice is raspy. Whenever your cock’s tip drags past her lips so that she can utter some more gratitude at the roughness, that voice becomes more raspy and dry, despite all the spit.

She knows not to be greedy, only squeezing her bountiful breasts and pinching her nipples, understanding how much you delight in the view. It’s not like it bothers her one bit. In fact, the contrary, as her previous attempt at avoiding a waterfall between her legs by pressing her thighs only rubs and stimulates them further. That wet spot underneath her thighs might even tarnish the hardwood.

Her moans vibrate around your cock to urge for even more roughness.

Grip the back of her head and fully stuff her throat. Her breath isn’t relevant. Nothing else in the world is other than your pleasure and Yena wouldn’t have it any other way. The apotheosis of your pleasure surfaces to the forefront of your mind in warning flashes.

“That’s enough, kitten,” you say as you release her raw throat. Several strands of spit connect her mouth to your cock’s tip while more spills out of her freshly used lips. The display alone is tempting but it’s too soon in the night to conclude by the front door.

Yena would whine again at the emptiness in her mouth if she weren't too busy gasping for a taste of oxygen.

“Stand up,” you command, barely giving her a chance to recover as her breaths become heavy. Your pet rises from her knees in an instant and you notice how they’re red and sore. “Were you kneeling the whole time?”

“Yes, master.”

“Didn’t you get my texts when I was in the driveway?”

Yena places her hands behind her back and raises her eyebrows, unsure of your point. She could have gotten on her knees when she received the messages, maybe she could have made herself at home with a glass of water and a rest on the couch before she got in place. It’s not as if you were going to check over your security footage for her behavior. Though now you have new ideas for the future. One of those pet feeders with the camera is going on your wishlist.

Instead of cat food, you would dispense that jelly she likes and let her eat it from a steel bowl whenever she’s a good girl.

This would be one of those times she gets a prize. Of course, it’s only natural that she should kneel the whole time. She should wait for her master, even if the floor is hard, even if she has to wait for an hour.

“Such a good pet.” As a reward, grab the leash at the coat rack.

The few recent guests that you had at your house often asked about what breed of dog you had. A better answer than the truth, you told them it was for your fish.

Attach the leash to her collar, yanking on it with little affection. Before you drag Yena around the house, she reverts to her stance on her knees, though now with hands on the ground to crawl. Her tits dangle, her nipples stick out, and she staggers at the force on her neck and the fatigue already settling in her body. She doesn’t need a tour of the house, but it gives you an excuse to recover. While Yena is built like a doll to exhaust all day, you still need to save some stamina for wetter and warmer holes, for more fuckworthy positions.

Naturally, the comfort is solely yours. While you walk through the living room, the kitchen, and the courtyard like a sapient person, Yena is on all fours. While many animals pant to cool their bodies because they don’t have sweat glands, your kitten pants and sweats at the same time anyway, though her tongue droops out not as much for heat but when she breathes heavily to recoup some energy herself. It’s an applaudable endeavour considering you’ve never used her body gently. Plus, she can never know if you might take her right now, possibly bringing her to the elevator and fucking her on the floor.

You’re in no rush to lead her through the halls of your home. The property is vast. Every ceiling is greater than one regular story tall. It would be prudent to map it, then frame that map for future visitors. Realistically, there’s only one such person in near purview.

Pause for a moment in the gallery of paintings before entering one of your many staircases. A shame you’re not fucking her here.

Slight bruises form on her knees when she clambers up your stairs, but she’s happy. You pass your closet, a bespoke room bigger than her bedroom. Most people get to see her clothed, ravishing in many different styles, however, you would rather have the striking sight of an exposed Yena by the foot of your bed.

“How do you want me, master?”

“Just as you are, but on the bed.”

“Yes, master.” Your pet crawls up next to you.

Another seamless silhouette on the bed, again lit through the three clear walls of your cantilevered bedroom by the night sky. Just as familiar of a position as Yena on her knees, she is face down. If she could see anything, she would know that nature stares back at her, your estate surrounded by bamboo and other greenery. That’s not the property that matters to you at all. Her ass bends up, compliant and ready as always.

Pull on the leash and align your cockhead to her inviting opening. One entrance to dip your shaft for a taste, and it doesn’t take long until your dick shoves into her, balls deep, and her dripping wet heat clenches after every harsh thrust. Somehow rougher than you’ve ever been, pound her cunt with a newfound fervor. Yena wants to be your personal fucktoy.

So be it then.

The motion of her hips reciprocates every time you buck yours. Your length scrapes her clean of her juices and it draws each breath out of her without heed to the natural rhythm of her respiration. Yena is lost and heady with desire when she desperately puffs for more air.

However, she isn’t that lost. “Mmph!” comes out muffled as she screams into a big pillow which deadens her volume.

No one’s going to hear her in the bedroom, other than possibly some deer or birds. Unlike in her dance practice room, the broadcasting station’s bathroom, your car bent over on the hood behind the busy cafe, Yena can be as noisy as she wants but instead she holds herself back.

Not having any of that, yank back hard on the leash when she attempts to fall into the mattress. The first two tugs are in time to each deep rut inside, then after the third time, Yena learns, realizing that you want her to be nice and loud. Her back arches perfectly as her fingers clutch into the sheets, yelping high enough that you swear the windows might shatter. It’s understandable—your shaft sunders the small kitten in twain and no amount of her restraint can hold back her voice.

“Ahh! Master’s cock!”

“That’s what I wanna hear.”

While one hand continues its grip on the leash, the other takes turns on her cushy butt. Left cheek. Right cheek. Initially, firm grasps indent the soft flesh with your fingers and each of its nails, though the softness of her ass and thighs beg to be slapped just like her tits. You succumb and emphatically smack that rear. “Aah! Fuck!” Yena shouts.

Punish the profanity that she lets slip with harder spanks. “I said you can scream, not fucking swear.”

Yet more profanities fumble out and your relentless cadence continues, both with your hands and your cock. The cycle of sounds endures as flesh claps against flesh and Yena puts all focus on staying loud without breaking your rules too much, wanting to leave some of her ass unscathed. Unfortunately, it’s too late, her butt tenderly stinging and her voice losing its intensity. You still ram her from behind with the same depth, the same speed, and the same strength, even when all that’s left is feeble whimpers and indolent sways of her waist, much slower than your own.

“C-can I cum, master?”

Don’t even dignify that with a response. Breathe through your nose, your lips pursed at the replete gratification around your cock, wet muscles swathing the whole length at a slightly prolonged stroke. Grab each cheek and splay that ass so that you can find the tight, winking ring above where your dick stays warm. A forceful spit, then your index finger teases at it with circles tempting to penetrate it.

“Please,” Yena sobs, much softer than normal, “May I cum, master?”

“No. You know the rules. Not like you deserve it anyway.” Your pet pays little heed to your fingers testing the entrance that she’s never even toyed with before. While you continue flirting at the dark hole with one hand, the other takes the stringy mess of clear wetness that leaks below her, the same juices that give your cock a veneer visible even in the low light of the nighttime.

Deeper into her pussy you embed yourself, her walls clasping and throbbing out of control. Aware she is finding it harder to hold back with her wild panting and moaning, you ensure she doesn’t get what she wants. Pull out then yank her onto her knees while you stand up on the bed. Yena holds herself back, only displaying disheartenment with her pouting bottom lip that sticks out. She keeps up her enthusiasm anyway. “Are you going to paint my face, master?”

Too involved with chasing your own orgasm to respond, you stroke your cock inches from her gorgeous face. Yena gives it a few careful smooches, unsure exactly when you’re going to cum because more than anything, she doesn’t want to waste your art by having it fly over her head onto your bed or anything else other than her face.

“I’m nothing but your cum dump, master. Please cum all over me, cum on my face, please master!”

Her begging always sets you off. Your last sight is Yena’s precious features, contorting in anticipation. Vision goes white while your legs tremble a tinge. The perfect canvas to use, you cover her in warm creamy streaks, emphasizing on her delicious lips until her entire face stains pale and sticky. Globs slowly drip from her chin while she sucks you clean with unmatched spit and polish. After a final mouthful, your conclusive bursts find their way down her throat to join the pre-cum already imbibed.

“Thank you, master.” Yena grins in satisfaction while she scrapes most of the seed on her face with her fingers.

After some heavy breathing, hers and your own, you both fall back onto the bed in relaxed sitting positions. Turn on the lights in your room with a switch on your bedside. “Name?” you say with a chuckle.

The charade dates all the way back to your first meeting. After a win at a music show that your group managed to sneak over IZ*ONE, you asked her a simple question on stage to her confusion. Back then, you just thought it’d be funny.

Now, it means a little more.

“Yena.”

Even when not in character, you brush your fingers in her hair like it’s a pet’s fur anyway; it gives you as much comfort as a real pet would. “Good girl.”

“That was really fun, oppa.”

“Thanks. You look great, Yena.”

Yena rubs her fingertips and plays with the semen on it before she licks it up. You get up from the bed.

“What, no thanks?” Toss her a towel and she wipes herself down.

“You’re gonna say that while I’m cleaning your cum off my face?”

“I’m saying that because of it, not in spite of it.” Unfasten the leash from her collar. Only now do you strip down to match her nudity, even surpass it; at least she has that collar. Flop onto your mattress and sink into it as every muscle relaxes in the radiance that follows your climax.

Yena cuddles up next to you in your bed after she gets the last sticky drops from her eyes. She really is a little kitten, curling up and fitting snugly in your arms. Only the sounds of waning respiration fill the room while her warmth fills your heart. Doe eyes look up at you until her blinking slows down to halt when her lids close. Eventually you end up similarly restful and in your post-orgasm rest, you become contemplative.

Bright lights. It's all roles. Performances. It’s impossible to completely separate yourself from your image, your persona is an extension of you. Serious yet friendly to the camera, while always charming and suave. You exaggerate your character, you focus on the key points that draw people in. She grasps this as well as you do, having trained for years. No need for a script, no need for acting classes, people always present an outward identity that isn’t a perfect replica.

Dim lights. It's all roles and performances too. Somehow, it’s the same and so very different. Again, this isn’t you, this is an exaggeration of you. You’re not a strict leader to your group but you become an overbearing owner in the night. Instead of reaching for external traits to amplify, you search for the truth inside of yourself. You need someone, a girl to bend to your will. That’s not the sort of thing you could admit out loud, which is why you’re fortunate to find a person so eager for her own truth, to be shaped and toyed with in the dark.

The question of which is truly you is a difficult one. Neither? Both? Questions fall to the wayside when fatigue takes its hold.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Light or dark, it’s more accurate to say both right now because though only blackness lies past the windows, within them, you forgot to turn off the light. Thus you stir, especially with Yena wriggling in your embrace, inevitable that one of you would wake up in the middle of the night.

“I’ve been thinking,” Yena whispers to break the silence. Her sultry tone entices you, it sparks warmth within you.

Open your eyes. The first thing you notice is how Yena’s nose almost touches the tip of yours, the second is the time, closer to morning than midnight. Finally, your own face looks back on the wall, the light in the room with the darkness outside creating a mirror.

“Ever since the group…” Yena pauses with a finger on her lip. “You know. I’ve been living with my parents.”

“You sure? Feels like you’re living here.”

”I know, I know. In fact, I told them I should find a place closer to all my activities. It was kinda tough explaining it to them but I had to try. Just needed somewhere to call my own. I love them, but it’s not the same as having my own home, umm, a new home. I’ve never had a new home before, or really lived anywhere other than my parents house and with IZ*ONE. I guess it’s not that uncommon at our age, but still, look at you...”

Put a hand on her shoulder to calm her thoughts down. “Hold up, hold up, that’s a lot to take in. Aren’t you gonna move into Yuehua’s dorms?”

“That stuff is still pretty up in the air. But not yet.” Yena puts the finger resting on her cheek on your lips. “Shh. I need somewhere to stay for a few months at least.”

“Good luck with finding a place,” you say with a wry smile.

“Oppa! Lemme convince you. I know this place is really expensive, but do you need all this space? Just to live alone? They’re gonna find out that one of Korea’s biggest love song writers is a complete loner eventually.”

“Yena, this is definitely not closer to your projects. You couldn’t get this kind of forest downtown. Trust me, I looked. Plus, I don’t think it’ll go over too well with the press. I’m an idol too, remember? When they find out I have an idol myself as a live-in fuck kitten, that won’t be fun to deal with.”

“W-well, did I say that’s what I was going to do?”

“Alright then. What is your method to convince me then?”

“Um. A dance?”

You scoff.

The basement has plenty of places for natural light to enter, with skylights from the courtyard letting ample enough in to see, even in the quiet hours of dusk. However, only lit by the moon, it’s much darker than the upper floors of your house. It’s nonetheless sufficient to avoid tripping over things such as iron plates, the squat rack, the rowing machine. You can also see the many mirrors in the open concept lower floor, leading to the entertainment room with its bar and projector, its floor a comfortable grey carpet. It’s more of a man cave than a dungeon, something you wish you considered during renovations as it would be appropriate now.

A metal chain connects to a load supporting column, on the other end, a familiar collar. Yena crawls around in a circle, thankful for the softness of the floor, and she repeats her words like some sort of mantra to acknowledge her bedroom roles. “I’m a nameless pet. I’m a toy only useful for her holes. I love when my master fucks those holes raw, but it doesn’t matter what I like.”

“Very good,” you acknowledge your kitten’s performative talent with an understanding that it comes from an authenticity within her. “You know you left your panties here last time.”

“Yes, master. I thought you’d like them.”

“They’re dirty. I guess that suits you though.” You take the underwear from your pocket. Earlier, you dressed yourself again and retrieved a pair from the stash while Yena followed her instructions to head to the basement. Pink, but more importantly, “Stained with my cum, your juices. Didn’t you wear this on stage too? Panorama, right?”

“Of course, master.” Throw the panties at your pet. It lands on her head, but it falls off, so she bends down and picks it up by the teeth, making a ball in her mouth. “Mmph.”

“Such a well-trained kitten, didn’t even know they played fetch. That’s more for dogs, but I don’t mind. I’m just not sure what you want.”

She drops the underwear to talk, but paws at it playfully while she does. “I want to please my master. I need to.”

“Only for today?”

“No. Everyday please, master.”

“Well, this is my house and if you want to stay in it, I don’t care when your schedule is. You’re going to be here like a good kitten when I come home, right?”

“Yes, master.”

“Here to suck my dick and wet my cock with your fuckhole on your knees and on the floor whenever, correct?”

Her nods are brisk, more assured. “Yes, master.”

“In that case, we’ll call it a deal, okay kitten? You can seal it with a kiss.”

Yena looks up at you, unsure for a moment, but quickly comprehends your request. Unzip your pants yourself, then she crawls towards it, panties balled up in one hand. Slowly back up, teasing her by keeping your erect length inches away.

“Don’t you want it badly?”

“I do, master!”

Grab her hair and slap her. “Your voice should be no louder than mine unless I tell you to, is that clear?”

She bobs her head up and down in swift approval. Yena sobs, though more at the lack of dick in her mouth than the punishment. When you reverse all the way to your bar, she continues moving forward, limb by limb. So close to your cock, yet when she leaps forward, the chain tautens and yanks her backwards which snaps her head back. You rush down to her level.

“Are you okay?” you mouth and she nods promptly. The fullness in your voice returns and you roll your eyes as you stand up. “Kitten wants my cock so badly, you turn dumb for it, right?”

“Yes, master.”

“Give me the panties,” you order. Yena complies, a meek paw handing them to you. The musky scent overwhelms you. It’s the same scent between her legs right now, the same scent on your sheets.

Before she joins Everglow, that scent will mark the whole house.

Conversely, if she doesn’t end up joining, it only means you’ll have more time for her to adjust to her new life. Whiff one last time before you set the cloth on the counter. Take your shaft with your hand and bend it towards her. Yena struggles but manages to ghost it with the tip of her tongue. Her licks thirst especially for the dot of white that dribbles from your slit, but out of her reach, she mewls and whines again.

“Tsk. You already have so much milk in your tummy. I didn’t even mean to feed you, I just wanted to slather your face and greedy little kitten had to eat it all up.” You rub your cock on her cheeks and forehead while you draw in a sharp breath. “Hsss. Tsk, I should’ve punished you then.”

With considerable weight, the slap of your cock on her face leaves new imprints to match the now pinker hand marks on her tits. Yena squeals with each whack but she keeps her mouth open and her tongue lapping, even if she can barely graze your erection. She pulls back and inhales deeply before a strangled noise indicates how she travails for a taste.

After enough to soak the underside of your shaft, you acquiesce—not out of any care to fulfill her wishes but just to balance out the moisture on your length. All you need is a slight buck forward and her mouth pounces on your dick, every drop of her drool coating it.

Yena takes her hands off the floor and holds onto your tip with her lips to keep her up as she tries to scoop up all the saliva. By twisting around the base of your rod, her right hand supplements the work of her mouth, unable to take you all the way down as the leash still constricts her, while her left hand gently toys with your sack. Instead of using her face like any of her other holes, having already done that moments ago, you let the raring girl assume responsibility. You don’t need to tell Yena not to get it twisted. The struggle between her hungry mouth and the collar on her neck cautions her that you’re in charge no matter what.

The travertine countertop digs into your hands as you lean back. “Fucking hell, you’re insatiable, aren’t you?”

“Mhm,” Yena hums in a low moan around your cock.

“Like it’ll be the last time, nngh, when there’ll be plenty more in the future.” Shift your weight off the bar and right foot after left, shuffle in a circle around the column that fixes her.

Yena follows you much like an adorable baby duckling.

She can’t quack right now though. Again, your kitten keeps her mouth’s grip on your rod firm and steady even when the rest of her body is unsteady while she shuffles likewise, though on her four limbs.

You reach the back of the leather couch in your entertainment area, admittedly squirming as much as Yena because of her resplendent suction. Lower yourself behind the sofa until you’re seated on the floor, misusing the sofa for the sake of convenience. A longer chain would have been judicious, to let you sit on the cushioned seats, but you had no time nor willpower to think when you tied up Yena to the pillar.

Even on the rare occasion where you’re willing to bring yourself to her level, she doesn’t bother with eye contact, breathlessly bobbing her head away. Yena lets your cock free from her mouth, though still in a supplicant bow in your crotch, between your legs. “Master, please, may I ride you?”

“Did I say stop?” You spit on her face. “Did I ever say you can ask me for anything?”

“N-no. Master.”

You spread the spit all over her dainty features. While she wiped most of her makeup clean the first time, there’s still plenty to smudge, to vitiate the girl as the cock-hungry slut she tries so hard to be. To make your point, grab her chin and urge her to look back at you. Her eyes glaze with a speck of lust, a little more with fear that drives it. “Clearly you have more to learn. You’re lucky I’m spent. Get on top of that dick.”

Yena stifles a happy squeal before she carefully backs up. Slouch against the couch and the ground. Sure, the posture isn’t the best, but she needs a little more give in the chain for her to ride you properly. While your pet’s exigency to fuck your erection amuses you, sometimes you have to be more practical to chase your high. The two of you wordlessly find the perfect distance so that she can mount your lap while alleviating only a touch of pressure on her throat. As a substitute, fingers wrap around her neck. They don’t give more tension than the collar, but you press their tips anyway into the sides just to remind her true position, even while she’s physically above you.

“Are you going to cum without my permission?“

“No, no, of course not, master.”

“Okay. I don’t need to tell you what to do, right?”

With a hurried nod, Yena’s legs wrap around your waist. Though you can’t see much in the barely lit room, especially with the tits that distract your vision, the light touch and wetness of her cunt on your head inform you that her heat trickles out of her ambrosia, even more than before. She brings her body down, at first holding on to your shoulders, though recognizes from your stern glare that she is not to touch you. Yena puts her hands behind her back, and as a result, needs more force to split herself onto your cock. At every prior encounter, she was content leaving the hard work of penetration to you. The natural lubrication is almost not enough for her to kiss the base of your length under her own power.

You come to plenty of realizations, even as Yena accelerates the bouncing pace of her ass. She always enjoys something around her neck—whether it’s a collar that marks her as your property, or your strong hands that do the same when they leave purple on her milky skin—but by the way her pussy flutters every time you inflict more stress on her throat, you only now realize that it’s also about denying her one of a person’s most basic needs, the lack of air intensifying her arousal.

Though even the simplest of animals need to breathe.

“Master!” Yena cries out between strangled puffs of air. “You’re so big, hah, and you fill me up, hah, so well.”

"Didn't know a pet could talk like such a slut, but I guess my kitten's always in fucking heat huh? Telling me she needs to live here, she just wants to be a fuck hole all day, isn't that right?"

Your kitten doesn’t need to nod or vocalize her agreement in any way, you can tell by how little she pays heed to the chain that holds her back by the neck. Despite the fetter, Yena rides you as though your erection might disappear if she doesn't fuck herself onto you hard enough, if she doesn't cum all over your cock. Every bracing jerk up and down causes you to slump further into the floor, further into the couch, so you back up to fix your stance.

In return, she has to bend back herself, the chain unyielding as her ass follows your crotch in its repetitive motions. Once you reach your couch with your spine upright, Yena has to hold herself up on one arm behind, with her toes barely touching the floor in the awkward pose.

“I call you kitten but you’re acting like a slutty bunny that needs to be bred with how you bounce on that dick at any cost.”

The words set her off. “Master, please, I need to cum,” she says.

She doesn’t need to say it. You notice easily. The tightness is obvious.

More tellingly, her hands replace yours on her neck and you’re too adrift in your own lightheadedness to object. Plus she’s much less lenient with herself than you are.

“Cum, cum, master, please, I need it,” she repeats between uneven sighs.

“Hmm.” You pull yourself back up to a better posture, even if it means not leaning back on the couch. Kiss into her neck. It only brings her closer to her demise, especially when you leave more purple after you increase your suction on the sensitive skin. Your pet knows she needs to hold back. While you’re tolerant of her blubbering fucked-out disarray now, consequent punishments may cost more than one orgasm.

More than whatever sweet floral soap mixes and the territorial marking musk of sex, the smell of desperation hits your nose. Yena’s neediness is fragrant with the sweat splashing between your two bodies and saliva from her lips, kept open in a constant ‘O’ with pleasure. “Cum,” she rasps, though the sound barely comes out as a syllable from her slack mouth.

Thwack.

Thwack. The sounds of her ass leaping up and down hold you just as spellbound as the rest of your senses.

“Right,” she says, eyes wavering and searching why you aren’t answering. So Yena isn’t even trying to bait another punishment with an incorrect answer—or rather, request. Instead, she needs your friction, some stimulation on her tender little clit, anything at all but she is too absent in bliss to ask properly until now. “May I cum? Master?”

You hum and haw, your fingers rapping the floor. Your insouciance contrasts Yena’s vivid zeal, the sloppy expression that her face wears, her legs straining and bending to shove her ass all the way down your cock. Her pleasure doesn’t matter, but you can’t deny how it influences you; besides, you feel your vigor waning and need her walls to milk you dry so you can cum as well.

But is she a good enough girl? Her body is so delicious, her role, her act, her kitten routine so practiced, you might not even ask and concede to her if you were a weaker man.

“Are you a good pet?” you say by some remnant resolve.

“I am, I am!”

Before you can tell her to go ahead, Yena slams down, your cock twitching as much as her insides. “Not good enough,” you grit through your teeth.

Reenergized, assume control and fuck your dick up into her by bucking your hips. “Not good enough?” she whines, her tone falling.

“No.” Though the end product is the same—your shaft leaving and entering her body—you start to bear the brunt of the work, the brunt of your crotch into her butt that you hold up with two hands. Instead of Yena riding you, powerless to your cock, you claim your kitten as its rightful owner with your torrid plunges. Her breeding hole is glad to accept. You’re unable to lean back into the couch, because each thrust is so vigorous that it brings you closer and closer to the column. Jam your feet into the carpeted floor to redirect your momentum into Yena.

“I—I, I don’t know if I c-can hold it—” A particular graze of your cockhead against a sensitive spot interrupts her.

“I didn’t. Say. You could. Fucking cum,” you declare with stern pauses.

Internal heat melts your breath away, then sharp throbs originating from your crotch restarts that breathing. You’re near.

“If you’re going to be a good fucking kitten, you go at the word go, every single time. You suck at the word suck, ahh, ngh, you kneel at my command, and most importantly...”

Yena yelps and pulls back when you jab a couple fingers at her tummy, where a distension disappears and appears faster and faster, before your tongue sticks down her mouth and exits just as quickly.

“Ffff…” Hot air escapes your lungs when your focus shifts for a second back to the incredible sensations wringing your cock. “When I breed this messy pussy, you better remember your proper name. What is it?”

“Nothing,” Yena cries out.

One stroke.

Two.

“Cum.” You add approving grunts and slip a finger between her legs to help along, even if the single word is all she needs. Clear liquid spurts from her crotch, a slicker fluid joins the tensing muscles around your cock, and Yena whimpers with her lips firm against yours, slobbering and drawing out air and pleasure as much as she can. Her up and down motions dwindle, but her whole body palpitates.

The order is as much for you as it is for her. You can empathize with Yena. The earlier warmth and pulsations collide, and in that collision, they explode. Bright lights and dim lights dance in your vision again, even when the room appears darker than it ever has. Yena ensconces you wholly, from her limbs and tits clinging to you as much as her cunt, to her ever-present, ever-changing sounds that reverberate in your spacious basement. Unintended moans, your deep sighs of pleasure, her needy mewls looking for a last surge in her climax. You join in her reverie, your attention to the outside world fading. Every fateful meeting with Yena rolls through your mind, every role that you play. The inside you and the outside you blend as one while your sticky seed blends with her juices, its viscosity making her pussy’s suction unbearable. Yena’s tongue blends with yours too.

Work through the stimulation anyway. Shots and more shots of your cum fire into her edacious chamber.

You can only coax your eyes open for a moment to observe your artistry.

Beautiful pale skin stains with all sorts of red and purple and spit, while silky smooth legs quiver. Tight toned stomach bulges with your cock, large soft breasts press into your torso with its stiff bumps and a perfectly round ass ambiently jiggles with every ounce of your load, every spasm of your cock. Cherry red lips smear against yours, revealing a lighter natural color.

As you disconnect from your kiss, the two of you suspire, breaking the thread of spit to fall between your chests, though hers is more glossy wet. Yena smiles. It’s weak, but as proud as ever, its corner upturned like before.

Your hearts find its timing once again, her chest bumping heavily against yours. Some lazy grinding before she unsheathes you, and her breasts uncompress as she backs up though she straddles you. Yena takes whatever leaks and fingers herself with sticky digits.

“Still want more?” you ask.

“Mhmm.” Her reddish cunt is sore but she entertains herself with her hand anyway.

“So your name’s still not Yena?”

The kitten shakes her head.

“God, you’re gonna be a lot of work aren’t you?”

You peel the girl off your thighs, soaked with all sorts of fluid.

“Now if you really want a new home, be a patient pet for me, okay?” you say, as you grab an extra set of keys on the bar counter. “You might still be in the mood, but I’m just one guy. I need some air. I’ll be back later. I better find you in the same clothes you have right now, you know, like a good kitten. I wanna see you outside in my garden when I get back.”

Yena holds back a smirk. While she takes off her restraining chain, she keeps her collar on. Even if it hides the faint bruises, it designates her as your owner all the same. “Thank you.”

“Who knows? Maybe people’ll put two and two together when I post the pictures to my story.”

A dark Sunday dawn is perfect for a scenic drive.

A pet frolics in your garden.

A pearly trail drips out of her like a tail.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AFF, AO3

Shout out to @existslikepristin for their amazing feedback (you can also find them on AFF). This goes without saying but also shout out to Peach. Already told them this but I always wanted to expand on some quickies and I ended up choosing Pet, over my own quickies, plus this jumped past my very useful draft list, even over my own Yena draft. That's how much I liked it. Hopefully I did it justice.

#kpop smut #izone smut #reader insert #male reader #title tracks

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crossroad-of-fate · 3 years

Text

-An Act Of Kindness-

It was after his overblot that Azul started to feel uninterested in his work. Empty golden parchment was sitting nicely inside his desk drawer, but he couldn't bring himself to take it out and write another contract. Even the atmosphere inside his office was simply unappealing to him.

So he decided to walk around the dormitory, to freshen up his mind.

He didn't expect to be taken down memory lane during his walk. Especially to a time he wished would just disappear without a trace by a simple wave of his magical pen.

He hated himself as a child. Blamed how he looked as the source of his childhood bullying. Despised how much he cried and hid inside his octopus pot instead of standing up to them. His present self was reflected by the glass that kept the water outside and away from him.

He was no longer the chubby, weak, and dumb octopus he once was. He grew out of that and worked hard to get where he was now. A proud Mage-in-training in one of the two most prestigious magic schools in Twisted Wonderland.

But why did he feel so disappointed by himself now?

He had to sit on the floor with his back facing the glass wall to calm himself. He just over blotted yesterday, intense levels of bad emotions aren't good for his health and welfare.

Usually, the calmness of a quiet area would quickly help him to settle down the thoughts running around in his head. But today it just made it worse. He almost wished he wasn't alone right now, to just hear someone talk about something else so he could focus on that.

"..What am I even doing this for?" His voice filled the emptiness in the hallway and he leaned the back of his head onto the glass behind him.

"In the end, it wouldn't change the fact that I was that ugly dumb octopus.." the poisonous words fell from his lips as if it was something he regularly said without much thought.

"Really? Because the Azul I see is an amazing person!"

He looked up to see you walking towards him from another hallway, you waved at him without an issue just as if you haven't walked in on him talking down on himself. You continued,

"He's intelligent, hard-working, and innovative. Oh, I could go on about him for hours!" You clasped your hands over your chest and pretended to swoon. You ungracefully plop down on the floor beside him, keeping yourself only at an arms distance.

"He also has the prettiest shade of white silvery hair, blue eyes that shines under the lighting like crystals, and a cute lil' mole under his lips." You moved your hands around certain places on your head to further describe Azul's features. Settling them down on top of your knees as you talked in a calmer tone.

"But sometimes, I think Azul can't see how beautiful and great he is."

He looked at you blankly at that sentence. His expression told you that he didn't believe a single word that came out of your mouth. But his eyes told a different story.

"You shouldn't let what people say about you determine your worth, you're the only one with the power to do that. Don't let them take it from you.." You almost pleaded at him to not say such bad things about himself, your eyes concerned for him.

Azul was quiet for a while, staring at your small smile directed towards him. Earnestly. Genuinely.

He took off his glasses and let them dangle between his index and middle finger while he lowered his head to rub his temple, hiding his glassy eyes from your view. He chuckled lowly to himself.

If only he had surrounded himself with more people like you from the start, maybe he wouldn't be as pathetic as he is now, not as scared of the little things in life he taught himself to be afraid of.

You sat beside him patiently, hoping that your words would reach him. You wanted him to look at himself the way you do. You admire this man, truly you do. Even with all of his suspicious, and scamming tendencies and even if he was trembling slightly in his place on the floor. He was trying not to cry in front of you to save just a little bit of his facade.

Azul inhaled and exhaled deeply, putting back his glasses and getting up. He patted his uniform off any invisible dust and adjusted his tie. "I should return to my room, the Mostro Lounge will open in a few more hours. I bid you goodbye, (L/N)-san."

He nodded to you without a glance at your face, making his way back with his fists clenched.

"Take care.." Your words fall on deaf ears as he left.

.......

Inside his room, Azul tried to push your words to the back of his head, pleading to himself to just be silent as he changes into his dorm uniform. He succeeded in switching his pants and shirt quietly, he looked to the mirror as he tied his bowtie. Shaking his head to remind himself to just think of nothing.

It's not like you meant what you said, after all. But you did.

You were just trying to cheer him up, you probably didn't have good intentions. You didn't want to see him sad.

You were just pitying him. You wanted to help him.

His fingers froze on top of his collar after a tear rolled down his cheek without him realizing it. Followed by a few others. He managed to finish his bowtie but his arms quickly dropped to his sides limply.

The words he wanted to hear back then, he was told to by a stranger. Someone he wouldn't remember in a few weeks forward. He yelled to himself that your words didn't mean anything, but why did it matter to him if it didn't?

Azul squatted low in front of his mirror and the comforting silence of his room, let the stress in his heart cry out. The frustration he felt directed towards himself for so many years, burst like fireworks repeatedly.

Even as he sniffled and hiccupped, even with his gloved hands wiping the tears, he felt his heavy heart lighten with every whimper and cry.

Thank you

Thank you for saying that.

#twisted wonderland #azul ashengrotto #azul x reader #road work ahead #octavinelle x reader #octavinelle

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peachywrite · 3 years

Text

Before I Let You Go

Rohan Kishibe x JosukeSister!Reader & Protective Brother!Josuke

Trigger Warning: violence, inappropriate stand use, mild suggestive themes

Josuke doesn't understand why his sister has been spending even more time with Morioh's Famous Mangaka.

Josuke sat himself down beside Koichi, the pair of friends awaiting the next delicious plate of specialty pasta Tonio was whipping up for them.

“You know, your sister has been hanging around Rohan quite a bit recently.” Koichi’s concern was evident in his tone of voice and the way he avoided eye contact with Josuke.

“What are you talking about? She just likes his art, is all. She’s always been into drawing and stuff since she was little.” Josuke tried to brush Koichi’s worries away, but he too was a bit suspicious of their sudden closeness.

Tonio returned with two heaping plates of authentic Italian pasta, smiling down as he placed each on the table. He gave a small bow and returned to the kitchen. Koichi poked at the new food with his fork, spinning it around as he began to speak.

“I mean, they’ve been hanging out with each other for a while now, but just recently it feels like something’s changed.” The two paused for a quick bite of their dishes and thought quietly to themselves, both suddenly coming to the same conclusion.

“Hey, Josuke. You don’t think your sister would ever date Rohan, right? What am I thinking, that’s a stupid question. It would never happen.” The shorter boy scratched his cheek nervously, staring down at his plate.

“I-I don’t know. She’s never had a boyfriend before. Rohan’s also too proud to date anyone, so we shouldn’t worry our heads over this, Koichi.” Josuke smiled at him, patting the gray-haired boy on the back to reassure him.

“I don’t know, it’s just… The other day, when I went over to return some photos to Rohan, I saw the two of them through the window. I couldn’t see exactly what they were doing, but it kinda looked like he was holding her hand? And placing a kiss on it? I don’t know though, the window was so high up, so I probably didn’t see anything.” Koichi’s voice wavered, the overwhelming silence from his friend concerning him.

He didn’t have the heart to look Josuke in the eyes at the moment, too afraid he may have let the young man down by not sharing this memory sooner. The dread in his heart outweighed his fears quickly, and Koichi looked up to see a Josuke imbued in the darkest aura imaginable. It reminded him of those terribly frightening spirits in the alley that tried to steal him that one day.

“Uh-Josuke? Is everything a-alright? I know I should have told you sooner, but I wanted to be a hundred percent sure about it before you could go off and beat up Rohan again.” Josuke silently nodded, pulling out his wallet and dropping enough to pay for both meals on the table as he scooted his chair in and began to leave.

“Josuke! We aren’t sure if they even are dating yet!” Koichi shouted.

Josuke turned around, a chilling smile spread across his face as he waved.

“No worries, Koichi. I’m off to find out. Sorry about leaving you, I’ll call Okuyasu to take my place while I’m out. I’ll see you later and tell you what I found out.”

All Koichi could do was stutter in surprise at Josuke’s changed demeanor.

Was he putting on a show to calm his nerves? Or was he actually thinking about how it would affect his sister if Rohan was dating her?

The boy returned to his meal, lost in thought, until a tired Okuyasu joined him at the table.

Josuke’s heart was conflicted. If y/n was really dating Rohan, that would mean she was probably in love with the mangaka. He knew his sister wore her emotions on her sleeve and would never fake a romance, but was that true for Rohan? Could he have used Heaven’s Door to make her love him?

He didn’t trust Rohan after what happened with the others, but he did save his life when they fought against Highway Star.

This is what conflicted him. Rohan had a good soul, but was he doing this because he truly loved y/n, or was this another trick to get back at him for the lost dice game or the partial burning of his mansion? Rohan was the kind of person to hold grudges for as long as he saw fit, so this frightened Josuke.

“You can tease and mess with me all you want, but as soon as you bring my sister into this, you’ve crossed the line.” He muttered under his breath, jogging to the café he knew the artist would probably be sitting at.

As he finally spotted the mangaka, enjoying a sip of tea between his quick sketches, he rushed past the hostess and right up to the table. Rohan was caught off guard, a bit frightened and prepared to use his stand until he saw the steak shaped head of hair.

“Josuke? You idiot, I almost attacked you. Why are you rushing me like an enemy?” He blew out his held breath and took another sip of tea.

Josuke pulled up a seat across from the artist, his hands neatly folded in front of him, eyes staring down as he tried to formulate the proper words without working himself up.

“Rohan, I heard from someone that you may be dating my sister. I just want to know if the rumor is true.” Rohan nearly spit out his cup of tea, the shock of the question taking him completely off guard.

After composing himself, the Great Rohan Kishibe began to sweat as he tried to decide whether he should divulge the truth. Y/n would want him to be honest, but he feared the beating Josuke would surely give him if he found out the two of you were dating.

“Your hesitation to answer is making me nervous, Rohan. You better speak up soon, or I’m gonna lose my patience.” The young delinquent spoke through gritted teeth.

“Fine. Yes, we are. We have been for at least a week now. I love her. It’s simple. Why are you asking me? You could have easily just gotten the same information from her.” Rohan took another sip of tea, hiding his face behind the cup as he tried to figure out how the young man would react.

Josuke’s hands reached out from across the table, grabbing Rohan by the collar and dragging him off to the side, so he could pull him in closer. The smashing of glass on the quiet block alerted the hostesses as they worriedly watched.

“Rohan-sensei! Do you need us to call the police?!” Shouted one of the waitresses, who had reached for her cellphone behind the counter.

“No, everything's alright. I can handle this.” Rohan waved her off, Josuke still dangling the man in the air.

“You better not be doing this to get back at me. I can take the teasing and the jabs at my intelligence, but I won’t let you make a mockery of my sister and her feelings.” Josuke lowered the man down, taking a breath to relax himself, then began to drag the manga artist off the café patio.

“Hey! Release me, you brute! Where are you taking me?!” Rohan struggled in his hold, trying to call Heaven’s Door out to control Josuke.

“We’re going to see y/n.” Rohan stopped fighting and instead calmly placed his hand on Josuke’s shoulder.

The boy stopped, turning around to meet Rohan’s stern face.

“I’ll go with you, just stop manhandling me.” Josuke stared into him, debating with himself, then let the manga artist go.

Rohan stumbled back to his feet, dusting himself off as he grumbled under his breath about how rude Josuke was being to him.

The two walked side by side towards the Higashikata residence. When they were nearly a block away, Josuke spotted you being dropped off by Jotaro. You waved goodbye to the older man, but turned around to face them after.

“Good grief.” Jotaro rolled his eyes with a sigh, leaning against the car as you spotted your brother and your boyfriend angrily walking toward you.

“What do you think is up with them?” You asked, curious as to why both seemed to be in foul moods.

“Looks like your brother found out who your boyfriend is. I’m only staying because I don’t want an unnecessary stand fight.” The marine biologist pouted to himself, annoyed.

You looked back at the pair, shaking your head in annoyance as well.

“I should have just told him from the start. I knew Rohan couldn’t keep quiet about this.” You motioned to the two of them to speed up, so you could talk.

As they reached you, Josuke grabbed onto Rohan again, dragging him by his collar with one hand.

“Why must you fling me around like a rag doll!? I already agreed to come with you!” Rohan shouted, squirming in Josuke’s death grip.

“Use Heaven’s Door on her.” Josuke mumbled to the mangaka.

All he could do was shake his head in response, his eyes wide at the order given to him by the delinquent. Suddenly, a second hand came up to grip the other side of Rohan’s collar, both now shaking him violently.

“I said use Heaven’s Door! I want to be sure you aren’t messing with her!” The tears that welled up in Josuke’s eyes shocked you.

You’d seen Josuke cry before, but these tears were different. He looked scared.

“Josuke, stop it! There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

You placed a hand on Josuke’s back, your touch pausing his tirade and causing him to drop his hold on the artist. Helping him up, you touch Rohan’s cheek and nod to him.

“Rohan, I give you permission to use Heaven’s Door on me right now.” He shook his head again, adamant about his refusal.

“I won’t use it on you. Not for that bastard or for you. It’s not right.” You could tell how upset this was making Rohan. He turned his head away from you, not allowing you to meet his gaze.

“Rohan, please. He’s just scared. Just this once. I’ll never ask for you to do this again.” He finally meets your eyes and sighs.

His hands carefully touch your cheek as he whispers Heaven’s Door. The pages on your face open up and prevent you from moving, but you happily look up at the man, reassuring him that you felt safe and accepted this. Josuke came from behind the artist, flipping through all your pages quickly, searching for any scribblings Rohan could have made.

A few minutes pass and Josuke is finally content with his search. He closes the book on your face and your movement returns to you.

“See. Everything was fine. I really do like him. A lot, actually.” You pinch Josuke’s cheek.

Josuke pulls you into a tight hug as you feel his stress melt away. The mangaka crosses his arms, an angry pout on his face. All you can do is sigh and return the hug.

“I just wanted to be sure. If you were to get hurt because of me, I don’t know how I’d live with that.” He squeezes you tighter, your breath leaving your body quickly from his sheer strength.

“Josuke, it’s fine! Trust me! Now let go, you're crushing me.” You squirm, but your brother refuses to budge.

“I don’t think I will. If I let go, you’re gonna go give Rohan a hug, and I don’t want to see that.” The boy then lifts you with little effort and attempts to run, but his plan is foiled when your stand manifests and wraps around his legs, keeping him from moving.

“I see how it is, y/n. Fine, go be with your boyfriend, but no lovey-dovey stuff.” Your vines unwrap his legs as he sets you down.

You give your brother one last hug and a smile, running into Rohan’s arms. He still looks upset, but when you nuzzle into his chest, his anger melts away.

“I’m sorry you had to do that. It had to happen, though, so don’t be too mad at me. I’ll make it up to you, promise.” You look up at him, still in his arms, he leaves a quick peck on your cheek followed by a hefty sigh.

“You’re lucky I’m such a forgiving man.”

#rohan kishibe x reader #kishibe rohan x reader #rohan kishibe #kishibe rohan #jjba reader insert #jjba part 4 #jjba x reader #jjba #platonic josuke

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haik-choo · 4 years

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request: if you’re taking requests could you maybeeee do some make out scenarios or hcs or anything with the second years + hinata (only if u want to tho 👉👈)

a/n: ifc i’ll give you some make-out scenarios! the doctor recommended a hot boy (or girl ;)) a day keeps the sickness away ;P also if you ever want more detail, you can always ask for a part 2 ;)

[KARASUNO SECOND YEARS + HINATA MAKEOUT HEADCANONS]

-tanaka, nishinoya, ennoshita, hinata

tanaka ryuunosuke.

is SUPER enthusiastic,,,you can NOT tell me that this boy isn’t like a dog wagging its tail with a treat

he absolutely LOVEs it when you are under him and his body is between your legs and he’s practically laying on you, except his hands are cupping your face and his eyes are closed and weiofhweufh

he likes that position because he can easily move his arms to be on either side of your head and push himself up to look down at you as the light from the lamp or the light from the sunset illuminates your dewy and hot face

i don’t imagine him being very vocal, like it’s just a bunch of wet kissing sounds in my opinion. but he loves it when you let out little pleasurable sighs or mewls or just tell him that you like the way he’s kissing you,,,,honey it drives him CRAZY

uses a LOT of tongue okay I KNOW THIS FOR A FACT,,,,this boy likes to literally leave you breathless. sometimes he’ll tangle his hands in your hair and he’ll pull on it whenever you let out a cute sound

almost ALWAYS leads to a little extra somethin somethin ;) if ya know what i MEAN

if it doesn’t though, after you two are done he just lets out a big and shaky sigh and lays his head on your chest/boobs and mutters about how much he loves you

he lowkey forgets about your neck AAGAGAGA. like he just wants to kiss your lIPS bro, but he loves it when you drag your lips on his neck and give him hickies for everyone to see because he’s PROUD of them

rub your hands up and down his arms and he’ll be putty in your ARMS baby,,,,ask him to take off his shirt and he’ll COMBUSt my guy i SWEAR

(i have a headcanon where tanaka has some of the best skin in the team. like he would be one of those guys that just splashes his face with water but has never had a pimple in his goddamn LIFE)

nishinoya yuu.

okay okay i know that y’all might think he’s even more enthusiastic than tanaka,,,but get this: what if homeboy is...serious when he’s sucking your tongue

the prime time to makeout with noya is after he takes a shower and his hair is DOWn because hoT DAMn,,,like after his hot shower his skin is warm and his cheeks are pink and he’s just calm after a long hard day of diving after balls

he’s also another one that likes to be on top of you, but GODDAMN he also likes when he’s sitting up next to the headboard and you’re kissing his neck and leaving deep dark purple lovebites

his hands are always wandering your body, they’re not usually on your face, but he might tug your hair so that you expose your neck and he can mark you everywhere; but he prefers to have his hands rubbing up and down your sides and ass

i see him as letting out a little whine every once in a while, but mostly i think he pants because he gets hot and you’re hot and making out with you is hot and dAMN

his eyes get all half-lidded and he combs through his hair with his hand but it’s still wet and his forehead is all damp from the water droplets and his shirt around the collar is wet and cool against your skin

noya keeps his lips chapsticked UP, he wants his s/o to enjoy soft lips and he has them

when he’s on top of your making out, it usually ends at making out and you two just cuddle after a while, but if you’re on top of him it doesn’t always lead to sex sex but it usually leads to you giving him a handjob oOP--

bites your ears and just bites you in general, he had these really nice and big eyes and just imagines them looking up at you whenever he bites you and they’re all smug and wrieirgeorigjeriog

just clench his shirt and bring his lips up to yours and he’ll feel so wanted i can’t even --

ennoshita chikara.

loves you on top of him, you two are probably watching a movie and your head is on his chest but then your hands cup his face and’s putty in your hands

you brush your thumbs under his eyes and across his lips before peppering his whole face with kisses and then finally kissing his lips

his hands are usually on the dip of your back, but then as you continue to make out they end up going under your shirt and pushing it up as he caresses your whole back softly

making out is low energy and slow, it’s wholesome and soft and he just want to hold you forever. the pressure you put on his chest makes him feel safe and he just iojirgjeriog

he loves looking into your eyes every once in a while and LOVEs to praise you,,,,im talking ‘you look so pretty, baby” “your lips are so soft, they feel so good” “i don’t want you to let me go” like,,,,homeboy is ROMANTIC romantic

he doesn’t mean the praise in a dirty way the words just slip past his lips and they make both of you blush SO hard

lets out low hums of satisfaction and little chuckles whenever you make a sound of move a certain way against him,,,i don’t see making out leading to sex, usually it just leads to a really soft and lovey-dovey mood where you both just want to hold each other and are so grateful for having each other in your lives

but if you end up getting him super riled up, he’ll flip you ever so that he’s on top of you and his hands are all up in your shirt and lifting it up gently

his hands are probably super cold, and they raise goosebumps whenever they ghost across your skin, and he likes suddenly grabbing your bare side with his cold hands so you make a sound

totally the type to tuck your hair behind your ear as you pant and look deep into his brown eyes before he dips down and just kisses the shit outta you

hinata shoyo.

OMF it would start out as a simple kiss in his room but then he just wants more and so he cups your face and just keeps pushing back but doesn’t know it and then he’d end up pushing you onto his bed and he’d fall on top of you but that wouldn’t stop him

his hands are always intertwined with yours by your head, the more into he gets the tighter he holds your hands. i feel that he isn’t amazing at kissing, but he’s just so passionate that it makes up for it

when i say passionate, i mean he gets lost in the good feelings and ends up kissing you really sloppy all on your neck and chest and lips; he’s totally the type to bite your bottom lip and look deep into your eyes and not know what he’s doing to your heart

definitely makes high pitched whines and pants, throws in a few “please” and “you taste good” just to light your heart (and loins) on fire

please please please tangle your hands in his hair and tug him down to you and please please please flip him over so that you’re on top of him and kiss him silly

he’s likes to be playful and energetic when kissing, so he definitely nibbles everywhere and uses his teeth and tongue a lot. he’s totally bitten your tongue on accident before -- he’s the type to clash his mouth into you because he’s so excited that he clashes your teeth together

sometimes in the middle of making out, he’ll like realize what he’s doing and he just turns so red and stops and goes “i-is this okay? am i good? you’re really good but am i doing okay --”

doesn’t usually lead to sex, most of the time after like 15-20 minutes of heated kissing he just falls over next to you on the bed and waits for a minute before excusing himself to the bathroom, then he’ll come back and cuddle with you <3

run your hands up his chest, it’ll make him feel so manly and sexy; it’s such an ego booster for him !!! plus i feel that he’s just really sensitive everywhere ya know

SMILEY KISSES <3<3<3

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deepseavibez · 3 years

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Blindspot || KTH

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-> Picture Source - Pinterest

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Blindspot [Taehyung x Reader]

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Genre - Best Friend; Fear of the Future; Nighttime Memories; Mixed Feelings;

Summary - She believed in more. In better. In bigger. That life was out there waiting to be grabbed with both hands. He's made it his sole purpose to remind her that simple moments were beautiful and meant to be enjoyed... and maybe, she would realize he was one of them.

Warning - (Slight) Angst; Anxiety; Unsure feelings; Fear of the Future; Fluff; Comfort;

Word Count - 4.7k

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🎶 - I'm Fine - BTS

TAE

‘Tae.’

‘Y/n?’ He pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at the time, ‘it’s 3am babe.’

‘... I'm sorry for waking you. Sorry. Go back to sleep, it's okay.’

‘Hey, no, no, I'm awake.’ Sitting up, he switched the phone to his other hand and rubbed at his eyes, ‘What's going on.’

‘It’s not important, I swear,’ he could hear her trying to mask her shakiness over the phone. ‘You can go back to sleep.’

He wouldn’t call her out on lying. He knew better than anyone when y/n was in a bad way. Once he asked her, specifically him, what was wrong, she would crumble and he wasn’t there to catch her right now. ‘Y/n. Come on, talk to me.’

‘I can't sleep.’

‘Yeah, no shit,’ he yawned back.

‘I'm so sorry for waking you.’ He could hear the trepidation in her voice.

‘You know better than to apologize for something like that, ‘ he chastised. ‘Babe, tell me about it. Was it a bad dream? Something keeping you up?’

----------

Y/N

You could hear shuffling over the phone as you searched for an answer. It was hard to put certain emotions into words. You only knew you needed to phone Tae, regretting it too late, when he actually answered. ‘I'm not sure,’ you started awkwardly, ‘I guess. I just don't know where I'm going.’

‘Do you plan on leaving me anytime soon?’ Already pulling your leg, he got you to roll your eyes.

‘No, of course not. I just mean, like, metaphorically.’

Things were a bit...confusing right now.

It had been a long time since you last had to deal with emotions this strong. The voices, getting harder to ignore. You had enough outside negativity to deal with, like family and some friends, all having this certain expectation from you.

It was new for you to rebel, to be who you wanted to be and feel how you wanted to feel without consequences. Choosing a life you solely strived toward, negating the tiny voice in your head saying you were wasting time and you were running out of time and you were not enough.

‘I don't know what I want to do, Tae!’ You burst out, the build up too long, the burden too heavy. ‘I don't have plans. I have a great job, I do. But I don't want to be a PA for the rest of my life and I don't know where to start, where to look, how to choose what I want to do.

I don’t have it figured out, it hasn’t fallen onto my lap, and when I look, I feel like I’m going to waste even more time looking.’

‘Y/n, you know you have a lot more figured out than you give yourself credit for.’ The huskiness of his sleep-leaden voice, comforted you. ‘You have money, a routine stable job, you've worked you way through university and graduated with honors.’ Taehyung did it without effort and he knew you would hear his gruff tone above all others, in a crowd, in a panic, as a voice of reason.

‘I know, and I keep trying to remind myself of that, but it’s just become unbearable. I am running out of time.’ Struggling to remain composed you spoke into the phone as if he was right here, ‘What if I'm still here in ten years, Tae? What if I don't ever figure out my purpose? What if I'm meant to just work and then die? I haven't lived! I haven’t seen the world. I’ve made everyone proud and now I’m the black sheep. I prefer it, It's just-,’

The sound of keys jangling cut you off.

‘Tae,’ you asked tentatively, confusion evident.

‘Hmm.’

‘What are you doing?’ You asked when he provided no further explanation.

‘Are you in pj's right now?’

‘Uh,’ you looked down at your white vest and underwear, just to make sure, ‘yeah, why?’

‘Miss y/n, I didn't know you slept in the nude.’

The protests left you immediately at his teasing, slithering heat under your skin at the very notion. ‘Tae! I am not sleeping in the nude, I have underwear on.’

‘Uh huh, what color are they?’ Your cheeks flamed in embarrassment. You could imagine his smirk, that dumb cocky, arrogant smirk.

He laughed, the sound gruff, infuriating you more, and causing you to giggle back. Because you were the butt of the joke, and you liked his laugh too much. Trying to be mad at him, even when play-fighting or harmless bantering, Taehyung, not a chance.

‘Listen,’ a seriousness settling between you, ‘get dressed, just sweatpants, and a shirt.’

‘Wait, what, why,’

‘Baby, listen for once. Just get dressed and give me five minutes.’

You looked at the blank screen, stunned. Your brain stuck at the word baby, and the effect it had. Your insides were mush, anxiety mollified, despite not knowing what he was about to do next.

‘Babe’, you knew, ‘babe’, you understood, that was normal, routine, best friend. But Baby?

You mulled over it as you discarded your vest, and threw on a loose Celine shirt. Pulling on your black sweats, a pair of socks and air force ones because who knows what this boy was up to, you stopped. You sniffed, once, twice, yep, that was Taehyung’s body wash, but what - oh, you tugged the loose collar toward your nose, yep, this was Tae’s shirt.

You composed yourself, almost deadpan at the small realization. When had he even stripped in your room and why weren’t you there.

Wrapping your messy hair into a bun, you restrained your mind from wandering further.

Your phone beeped from the bed and the screen lit up, a message popping up. ‘Look out your window.’

Peeping out you saw his black Jeep in your driveway. He popped his head out of the driver’s side window and did a two finger salute.

Shaking your head with a smile, you grabbed your phone and made your way downstairs through the house and out the front door.

‘What are you doing here,’ you asked as soon as he came into view. He looked good, white tee, black sweatpants, you matched, except for his leather jacket and red bandana.

He opened the passenger door on your side and leaned back, giving you a once over. His lips twitched as he rested his eyes on the shirt you wore. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he wanted you in his shirt. You raised your eyebrow playfully, refusing to give life to something like butterflies and heart-eyes when your best friend stood in front of you. Life was complicated enough.

‘You needed me to show up.’ He said it a matter-of-factly, but you knew he wanted to be there for you and you couldn’t, not feel grateful, and a little warm, that he would get into his car drive to you, all because you needed him to.

Not waiting for you to reply, he threw a jersey at you. ‘Its cold,’ his tone left no room for protest and he cocked his head toward the jeep, a sign to get in.

You wrapped it around you silently, not moving, not yet.

‘Well,’ his thumb curled around the top of the steering wheel as the rest of his fingers straightened out, his freehand rising to follow his question, ’Come on, get in.’

‘Where are we going?’ You would have gotten in, you would probably end up wherever he was going to take you anyway, but where was the fun in doing everything obediently. Even puppies had wild streaks.

He raised his eyebrow this time, a smirk teasing his cheek, 'You're brave every night, y/n. But not tonight, not while you're with me, come, trust me, wherever we go I'll keep you safe.'

You turned to close and lock the front door, breathing out slowly, as slow and low as you could, doing your best to work on the constriction around your heart; his words too wiry, too strong, too genuine to forget, too deep to ignore. It made you so... agreeable.

Getting into the Jeep, you felt different as you sat here now, in a seat you had been in too many times to count. It was probably the time and the circumstances. Yeah, some shifts were just because of the time, and the air and because it was silent and the dead of night.

You said nothing more, even though a few minutes earlier you spoke into the phone like you would explode if you couldn’t get the words out fast enough, you would be alone in your head, if you weren’t able to make him understand.

You jumped slightly, as you felt his hand close over yours, and pull it toward him to brush his lips along your knuckles. It was an absent action, maybe, because he stared straight ahead, didn’t spare a glance at you as you stared at the side of his head, making it look like he wasn’t even aware he was doing what he was doing.

Swallowing against the pounding of your heart, you chalked this up too. Night time was vulnerable, everyone was just a little more sensitive, you didn’t have to make it more than it needed to be.

Looking out the window you noted the lights and dark windows, empty parks and streets, doing your best to ignore the heat against your hand, the breath against your knuckles, lips not very far away, that were capable of a lot more.

With some effort, you faded out the intensity of his actions, and as your eyes adjusted you saw familiar figures, and buildings you had driven past numerous times. You knew where you were going.

He pulled up in the parking lot of his safe haven. In retrospect, your safe place should be entirely different, but you were safe with Tae, that said, his peace was where you found yours.

Jumping out of the Jeep, you noted how dark and looming the two story building looked. A huge sign reading 'Blindspot' the only posh part about this place, black metal roller doors, spray painted names across the walls, some of the neon colors standing luminescent against the moonless night.

One would think it was graffiti, but the community knew better, the ones that came and went, some that stopped and never left, knew having your name on the wall was a privilege.

He jumped out too, after grabbing something from the back. Carrying it toward you, you noted his knapsack, and a box of some sort.

Handing it over to you to hold, you took hold of them silently, as he pulled out the keys to open the locks and deadbolt.

You watched him, his actions purposeful but he was at home, knowing which way the locks turned, the catch on the bolt needing to be kicked out a certain way before opening fully; he'd done this a thousand times before.

Lifting up the shutters, the noise too loud for the silent night, he opened the door and guided you in, making you all too aware of his palm in the small of your back. Taking the stuff from your hand and throwing it onto the edge of the ring and he lifted up to close the shutters behind you.

You took notice of the extra shirt that falls out of the pile on the ring, one of your favorites of his actually, grey with black spots, sort of like a giant cookies and cream oreo mix.

The empty gym in front of you was a contrast to the busy days it had. There was a weight section, the bags lined up against the far wall hanging still, having no impact thrown at it to sway the dead weight, and the machines had their own floor upstairs, treadmills overlooking the balustrades to the floor below, by the ring where you stood.

The pool area, directly below you, in the basements where the changing rooms and showers could be found.

It looked small on the outside, but inside there were stories to be told, motivation, encouragement, brotherhood, friendships solidified in stone and a fair share of violent memories with broken bones, broken bonds and broken hearts.

Walls were packed with quotes, anatomy teachings and pictures, schedules, a dedicated to growing trophy case with medals and newspaper clippings, and pictures of staff, members, and the boss, with his best friend.

What Tae didn't continue, was the stereotype of the grunge masculine look that came with gyms. Outside may be black as night, but inside there was color everywhere - a world within.

The punching bags were each a different shade, green, red, yellow and blue. The ring bottom was black, neon orange ropes running along the sides in three consecutive lines, and your personal favorite, a giant pride flag hung on a hook outside his office door.

Toxic masculinity wasn't allowed in Taehyung's gym. You could be yourself, make your own lifestyle choices and still be a good fighter or just work-out. He took it upon himself to punch the teeth out of anyone that thought otherwise. This was what he'd always wanted to do and he made it more than just a place to get healthy.

There were four hours, two for the morning, two for the afternoon, catered only to women. Tae understood that men will be men, no matter how much you tried to change it. And comfort mattered.

Working out and exercising, as much as it seemed, like a chore, it could be enjoyable. It could be a social setting, helping people to open up, and cope, providing the best way for them to be themselves.

You helped him find a premises, helped him choose color schemes, and sat in on interviews. For legal purposes you were an advisor and owned a small share percentage. You didn't want it, but Tae insisted, you were especially grateful when the gym grew into more than you both had expected it to become.

'Y/n,' he waved his hand in front of your face, the action snapping you out of your thoughts.

'Huh, sorry, did you say something?'

He smiled comfortingly, 'Take the jacket off and your shoes.'

Scrunching your eyebrows, you finally asked, 'Tae, what are we doing here?'

'We are,' he started explaining as he ripped open a box in his hand, 'doing something I feel you need.'

Looking at you pointedly, he motioned his eyes to the jacket.

Shucking it off, you took off your shoes and redid your bun for good measure.

'It's strange isn't it,' you voiced out loud. He perked up at your food for thought, fingers fiddling with white tape. 'It's strange, that I know every corner of this place, but I haven't ever put a pair of gloves on.'

He raised his hand absently, a student raising his hand to give an answer, his gaze focused on yours as he did. 'That's because you've never had the need to, I'm here to protect you.'

Turning away, you caught yourself, before you let your heart show in your eyes. You've known Tae for so long, been his best friend for years, why now, why this feeling, this tightness in your chest.

You played it off, and walked over to him, socked feet padding against the wooden floor boards.

Taehyung clicking his tongue startled you out of your effort to feel normal; you found him staring at your socks.

'Y/n, I've told the guys this numerous times, you can't spar in the boxing section with socks. It's a slipping hazard.' No trace of the out of the blue romantic words, he bent down easily removing them from your feet one after the other.

It would be weird, if you weren't already so used to his skinship, his cuddling when he slept over, his hand straying over your shoulder on the couch, or brushing against your waist when he passed you. Yet, his thumb, on your ankle, his hand as he circled and held it, even for just the moment that he laid your foot down after taking off the sock, you felt… taken.

You wanted to snort, the wording completely off, I mean, he had a right over you, always had but-

He came into focus, looking up at you from where he sat, and asked lightly,' Do you wash these.'

Your mouth dropped open, as you watched him hold your purple socks in between two fingers, like it would bite him, or the smell would.

Your knee nudged at the side of his face playfully as you reached to pull him up. He took your socks, holding them properly now and put them in his bag, picking up the white tape he was fidgeting with earlier.

'So, will I be sparring with you today?' You were excited now. You had watched people vent and let themselves be free as they learned technique, let themselves be violent without consequences, the satisfaction on their faces after their sessions.

When he finally reaches you again he finds the catch and opens it out. White athletic tape, used to make arms and wrists stiffer, and to provide better grip, even with sweat and slick.

'No, not today. Let's focus on getting you worked up and tired. If you enjoy it, I'll gladly let you go toe to toe with me.' His eyes held a challenge, an underlying meaning evident.

Offering your hands up freely, he taped your wrists and fingers, you've seen him do it many times, just never on your wrists. Experimentally you shook out your fingers and bent and scrunched your wrist to allow for the right amount of tightness.

'Cocky, aren't you, Mr. Kim,' you side-eyed him.

He leaned into you, his breath teasing yours, 'I am the Coach here, y/n.' You blinked at the nervous fluttering in your chest, his intimidation, usually not directed so closely to you, doing something you couldn't explain, couldn't quite grasp.

Somehow, you should be scared, but it was, hot.

Leaning into him, breath for breath, you matched up, 'Then teach me.'

A slow smile broke out over his lips, playful Tae was back, it let you navigate things easier, you knew what to expect.

'So, I'm boxing the bag,' you deduced. 'I don't see why I need to tire myself out. I don't know how to do this.'

His palms closed over your cheeks, puffing your face up, emphasizing your pout. 'You are frustrated. You can't do anything about any of your emotions tomorrow, y/n. You have to be patient. You have to remind yourself it's a day at a time that gets you to your future. It will always be about patience.'

'Unfortunately, patience is overrated at something to 4am,’ you complained as he let go of your face and bent down to produce a new set of gloves from under the ring. Opening the zip of the bag, he pushed one toward you.

Shaking his head at your antics, not even phased, he strapped the gloves to both your hands and walked toward a bag. 'Come on, try it.'

'Color?'

'The yellow one.' He made to stand behind the bag you chose, and held either side of it, knees bent slightly in a defensive stance.

Feeling slightly out of place, and awkward, you huffed and punched the bag just to humor him.

You stared at it. The fucking thing didn't even move.

He burst out laughing at the comical look on your face.

'Okay, wait no,' he composed himself and came around you. His breath fanned your neck, giving you goosebumps, as he held your wrists and showed you how to punch. 'So straighten your elbow, like this, and pull it back in and see how the gloves are shaped, your forefingers curl above your thumb, so inside your glove your thumb shouldn't be in the fist.'

Nodding as you took in the new information, you did your best not to get distracted as he continued, all too comfortable in his element.

'When your wrist hits the bag don't curl it, let it face the impact head on. See, this is how you do it, so you don't break your wrist.' He made you punch the bag and showed you where your wrist was bending and how to keep it tight.

'Alright, baby,' that word, that goddamn word, 'you good to try again?'

Closing your eyes and swallowing hard, you nodded in answer and shook your head out of the Tae trance.

'Start with a simple combo this time, Jab, Jab, Uppercut, Hook.' You knew the names and their directions. Jab was straight forward, twice fast on the submissive hand as a set-up, the uppercut from downward into the abdomen or chin, depending, and the hook, from the dominant hand rounding off on the face.

'Think of it all y/n,' he encouraged, as he walked to his original position, 'the people, the words, the expectations, the beating up of yourself you do on a daily basis, and just go for it.'

Spreading your legs in a stance, aiming at the bag on his command, you clenched your fists and focused.

'Go'

----

'And breathe.'

Breathing heavily you fell flat to the floor, and stared up at the ceiling.

Sweat was in your eyes and your hair, but despite being in dire need of a shower, you felt oddly at ease. Tiny zings of exertion shot through your body as your lungs begged for air and you heard your blood rushing.

The roof was really pretty you thought, the wood positioned in long blocks to form and hold up the gable, grabbing your attention for the first time ever.

You blinked as Tae's face came into view, his hands resting on his knees.

He smirked cutely as he brushed your sweat slicked hair out of your eyes and off your face before reaching down to pick you up off the floor.

Handing you a water bottle, you let him manhandle you as he lifted your form to sit on the edge of the ring, launching himself up to sit next to, a second later.

'How do you feel?' He was proud of himself no doubt, after all, his plan did succeed.

You made a face at him, anyway.

'Hey,' he put both his hands up in mock surrender. 'It worked, didn't it.'

You cut him some slack, this time. 'Yeah, I feel icky, but definitely less worked up.'

---------

🎶 - Black Swan - BTS

TAE

Taking a swig of the water you had opened in your hand, he looks at the top of your head as he closes it and puts it away.

'Hey.'

She looks up at him, eyes hooded in exhaustion.

He smiles at her. Despite how much he loved her spitfire, she's adorable when she's not talking back.

He knew of the thoughts that crawled up her spine on a daily basis. He knew she had no plan, and it made her hyper that she didn't have one, but she couldn't make one because, what if she chose wrong.

He wanted to take care of her. He wanted to tell her that she could be whatever she wanted to be, and he would fly her across the ocean if she really wanted it; that she didn't need to worry about life so much because he would always take care of her.

'You're too sad.'

She scrunched her eyebrows at him.

'You have the whole weight of the world on your shoulders and you can't do anything about it.' He chose his next words carefully. 'I wish you could take a breather, and let a thought be a thought instead of picking it apart.'

He held up his hand to her when she made to protest.

'You know, things may not feel okay right now, with work, or at home, and in your head. But I've never seen someone adapt like you have. You bounce back, despite how much grit it takes.'

He took the gloves off her hand and carefully unwinded the tape on her fingers.

'I don't have answers y/n. But I do know you have me for a long time and I'm going to be here as you do your thing.'

Placing pressure on each finger he massaged the tightness out of it and flexed it for her.

'I don't know where you're supposed to go, if you were meant to leave and give me a round-the-world heartbreak, I'm not sure who you're supposed to be, I don't even know if you have a higher purpose, it wouldn't surprise me if you did, but you, y/n,' he heaved a sigh as he faced her, his gaze meeting hers, his next words the most important thing she'd need to remember,' you're a good you.'

As he met her eyes, her breath hitched. He heard it. He could see the flush in her face. He knew he was being honest. He knew he meant every word.

A half smile, a heavy acceptance, hands that were so easy to hold, eyes that were never anything but honest, a bond that all but forced a person to keep swimming. That was Taehyung to y/n. And that was y/n to Taehyung.

'You're a really, good you,' he reinforced. 'Right now, it works. I have a feeling it will work for a very long time.'

'I'm scared.' He could hear it in her voice. He heard it back when she was in her room too.

'Nothing is really set in stone, babe. And even though it does feel like you're running out of time, it's something you can't help. It's not what you want to hear but it's true.'

'How do I stop being sad?'

She was deflecting. But he had said it before, it wouldn't be gone tomorrow. Her anxiety and her fears, they will probably never go away.

She had the right way to go about it though. You get through it. Somehow. Some days it's a good cry, some days it's with a punching bag, and some days, it was with a best friend.

'See, now that's why you have me.' He answered confidently, as he put his chest out, his need to have her be okay, her smile, her laugh, his only intentions, his favorite thing these days.

'Oh really, you, why, because you're a clown.'

He feigned offense at the statement. 'Excuse me, I am not a clown, ask anyone that comes in for the 5am rush.'

She looked up at the clock in shock, it was really going half-four. She turned back to him sadly, 'I kept you up all night.'

'It was a fun night,' he replied, the teasing of many other ways to keep him up on the tip of this tongue, deciding against it, he looked away from her. 'You needed me, no amount of sleep is worth that.'

He didn't explain himself, he really didn't mind the lack of sleep. He could easily catch a nap in his office, or head home after half a day. But this, this moment with his best friend, that he wanted to be more, he knew he wouldn't choose to be anywhere else. He knew he'd do it over again too.

Pushing off the ring he grabbed the knapsack and handed her his shirt. 'Change out of that shirt, and use this one, you'll catch a cold, because of the sweat. And let's get you home, you need a hot shower, and sleep. I'll drop by for dinner after work too.'

Finally turning to her, he found she hadn't moved an inch, unshed tears in her eyes. Before he knew what he was doing, he pulled her toward him, sweat and all, and held her in his arms. 'You're first y/n, you'll always be first.'

A tender kiss on her head, his words rendering her speechless, and he knew uncharted waters were on the horizon.

This night, things that he'd said, the ways in which she responded, it was going to shift things for them.

But silence was comfortable for them. And she drank his share of coffee while he ate her share of pineapple, because he couldn't stand coffee and she hated pineapple. And he could hold her in his arms and she'd use his shirt while they slept.

It would start small, but he'd show her, the future was bright, she was deserving of more than she understood, she would be protected from her family and expectations and she would learn to remember, purpose or no purpose she wasn't alone, she never would be again.

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