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sincerelyneo · 16 hours

Note

could i request a mark smut 😣😣 where reader and mark just had an intense argument but in the end, they cant be mad at each other for long so they just fck it out of each other 🤐🤐🤐🤐

mad at you | l.mk

“then i try to leave, but baby i just can’t stay mad at you”

💿now playing: mad at you by why don’t we

❯ summary: Mark learns that you’ve made a ‘selfish’ decision that’s bound to put a strain on your relationship. Next thing you know, you're knee-deep in an argument that somehow ends with you sprawled out beneath him; because, let’s be honest, he’s never really been any good at staying mad at you.

❯ pairings: idol!mark x fem!reader

❯ genre: angst, smut, established relationship, make up sex

❯ words: 4.3k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, lots of arguing, swearing, reader is lowkey dramatic, makeup sex, unprotected sex (don't do this!), nipple play, dry humping, brief clit play, slight needy mark bc i can't help myself, creampie, reader uses she/her pronouns, reader and mark argue and resolve it by fucking.

an: i love writing angsty arguments (testament to my real relationships lol) so thank you so much for this request. it lowkey brought me out of writer’s block.

The honeymoon stage lasts approximately thirty months or two and a half years – which would make sense considering you and Mark were approaching your third year together and have argued more recently than you ever had.

But this time it’s different. You’ve never seen Mark like this, so angry that his face is bordering red and his jaw ticks so hard it might crack as the both of you drive in complete silence from your work dinner. He doesn’t even bother sneaking his usual glances at you when he pulls up at stoplights, the hand he likes to place on your thigh is gripping the wheel instead, and the only noise in the car is his rugged and frustrated exhales.

You could feign ignorance about why he's upset, but you know the reason all too well. And while a part of you acknowledges his right to be angry, another, more prideful part, resists the idea of apologising, especially when you think his reaction seems so disproportionate to your mistake.

So you sit in the passenger seat, arms crossed and body frozen, contributing to the cold silence settling between the two of you. You prepare yourself for the earful of a lecture you’re about to get when he pulls up outside your shared apartment.

He parks the car, slams the door shut, and strides towards your building without a backward glance. You scoff at his pettiness; he's never been so angry that he wouldn't at least wait for you to get out of the car with him. He doesn't even slow down when you trail behind. And when he nearly lets the elevator doors close without you, any chance he has of receiving an apology from you flies out the window, you think.

He does, however, show some decency by leaving the front door open for you as you both step out of the elevator and head towards your apartment – how chivalrous.

The chivalry doesn’t last long because the minute he hears you clasp the door shut, he’s glaring at you, arms crossed tightly over his chest, and you can't help but notice that he's rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt in frustration. If he weren't on the brink of yelling at you, you'd be tempted to make him do more than just roll up those sleeves — you'd want the fabric torn off and thrown on the floor in an instant.

“Paris, Y/N?!” Mark seethes, voice deep and uneven. “You signed a fucking contract to work in Paris?!?”

You pause, attempting to gather your thoughts, but the momentary silence doesn't offer much clarity. Eventually, you settle on, "It's just a six-month gig..." – a statement that seems to send him into a frenzy.

“Just six months?” He rubs his jaw repeatedly in disbelief, “That’s six months that we won’t get to see each other, did you even think about that huh?”

You scoff, “You’re one to talk, need I remind you that your job takes you away from me for months at a time.”

"That's not fair," he protests. "You knew exactly what you were getting into when you agreed to date me. I didn’t agree to not seeing my girlfriend for months because she’s gallivanting away in Paris without me."

Your eyes narrow and your nostrils flare, “So what? If you would have known, you wouldn’t have wanted to be my boyfriend?”

His eyes widen and he shakes his head. His hands fly to his hair and he tugs at the strands as he huffs out a breath.

“How the fuck did you get that conclusion from what I said?” He asks, voice sounding baffled. “The reason I’m so mad is because I like being your boyfriend, but I’m not going to see you for the next six months.”

“You’re being a hypocrite right now.”

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, “Right, because I’m always the one being unreasonable.”

“Yes, you are,” you scorn, “This job is my dream, don’t you see how selfish you're being?”

“I’m selfish?” He gasps, “That’s rich considering you didn’t even consult me when making this decision, I had to find out from your smug little co-worker in front of everyone. You were thinking solely about yourself, Y/N.”

You're on the verge of screaming. How is he not seeing things from your perspective? He's usually so understanding, so open to hearing your side. But the razor-sharp look in his eyes tells you that there's no getting through to him. He's convinced you're wrong, and nothing will change his mind.

“It’s for my job, Mark,” you cross your arms and shrug.

“And how many times have I told you that you don’t need to work? How many times do I need to tell you I can look after the both of us?”

“And how many times have I told you that I don’t want that? I don’t want to have to always rely on you!” You snap.

Your teeth grit as the words spit out of your mouth. They seem to hit Mark, deep, his eyes softening for a fleeting moment before sharpening again. He swallows thickly and blinks before running a hand through his hair.

“Then what are we doing, Y/N?” He asks deflated, “What are we if you don’t want to rely on me?”

You're not sure what compels you to say it – whether it's the way you're all worked up, the entire context of the argument, or some inner recognition that you're the one who's fucked up this time despite you both having stuff to apologise for. Still, you escalate the situation from zero to one hundred without a second thought.

“Oh, so you want to break up?”

He shakes his head and tongues the inside of his cheek, “When did I say that?!”

The fight only gets worse after that, the two of you blowing up after every sentence. You run around in circles, throwing accusations and insults at each other to the point the original premise of the argument is lost along the way of a thousand new arguments. It’s like every little thing you’ve both done to irk each other over the last month is brought up; and by the end of it, the two of you swear you’re done with each other.

Sure, you've had your fair share of arguments, but the biting finality of the word "done" as it leaves his lips sends a sharp pang through your stomach – it hurts like hell. You've reached your limit with this endless cycle of back-and-forth; you've had enough of him. Storming past him, you head towards your shared bedroom.

Mark sighs and reaches out for your arm, but you pull away. He doesn't like this, doesn't like the chilliness he feels from you. He doesn't want to end the argument like this; it's never gone this far without a resolution before.

“You can’t just storm away when we argue Y/N, it’s childish.”

“If you don’t like it then leave!” You slam the door shut after you and lock it.

Mark hates this more, not being able to talk this out because you’ve put a wall between the two of you. Then your words register in his mind and he’s the most hurt he’s ever felt. You want him to leave. Fuck that, he thinks. He’s not going to watch his relationship go down the drain over a petty argument.

He knocks on the door a few times, then jiggles the doorknob, calling out your name and pleading for you to let him in. But you remain unmoved, denying him even the satisfaction of hearing your voice telling him to go away. This only adds to his frustration. He's the one you've upset, and yet here he is, begging for you to open up so he can fix things.

After a few more tries he scoffs, your words echoing in his mind once more. Leave. It crosses his mind as he makes his way to the front door of the apartment. He swings it open, ready to clear his head and crash at Johnny's for the night. But just as he's about to step out, he catches sight of a picture of the two of you on the coffee table where he keeps his keys.

It’s from your honeymoon phase when it was easier for the two of you to say you’d never let anything come between you – when love seemed to blind you both. Mark picks up the photo, memories flooding back to the day it was taken. It was the day you met his parents and shared your aspirations of becoming a fashion designer. You reassured them that you had your own dreams and weren't just with their son for his wealth – though his parents wouldn't have minded either way; they would have been content with any girl that made their son happy. And you made Mark happy – you make Mark so fucking happy.

Which is why he can’t believe he’s even considering leaving you in this apartment on your own after a fight. He shuts the front door and makes his way to the couch. He's eager to resolve things with you now, but both of you are too caught up in emotions, spouting shit you'll likely regret in the morning. So he opts to grab a few sofa pillows and a blanket from the storage closet instead. He strips down from his dress shirt and pants, throwing them to the floor before lying back and resting his eyes with a heavy mind.

Regret doesn't hit you until 2:00 am the following morning, when you're met with the chill of an empty space beside you as you reach out to cuddle your boyfriend, only to find him absent. Sure you thought he was overreacting to the news, but you're also painfully aware that your own words were uncalled for. You shouldn’t have asked him to leave – you didn’t want him to.

As you heard the front door open and then close with a clink, a thick lump formed in your throat. The realisation that you had driven him away hit you hard, and you lost all motivation. You lay on your bed, makeup still intact, as you sniffled and sobbed quietly into your pillow. And even now, after tossing and turning from your mind running laps, you’d only managed to sleep for a few minutes.

You stretch your stiff legs and reluctantly leave your bed, unlocking your bedroom door with sleepy eyes. You're taken aback when you see Mark sleeping soundly on the sofa, his breath steady with his eyes closed. You thought he had left, but there he is, covered only by the blanket from the storage closet. It breaks your heart to see him like this; he's likely cold, and he'll probably have a stiff neck in the morning for practice. And you know it's all your fault.

The guilt eats away at you, and without hesitation, you rush to the bedroom to grab his pillows and an extra blanket. Realistically, you should wake him up and insist he sleeps in bed, but the fear of his lingering anger keeps you from doing so. Instead, you kneel in front of him, attempting to swap the sofa pillows for his own bed pillows.

However, your efforts prove futile because Mark is a light sleeper – a detail you foolishly overlooked in your worried state of mind. He blinks as he wakes up once, then twice, appearing confused to find you in front of him in the living room instead of beside him in bed.

“Baby?” He whispers, his eyes hazy as he tries to make sense of what you're doing. It doesn’t take him long once he spots the sofa cushion in your hand to put the pieces together.

You bite your lip and sigh, “I know you're mad at me, but I didn’t want you to wake up stiff in the morning.”

Mark's chest constricts. How could he possibly stay mad at you when you're so cute, fussing over him like this? He notices the smudge of black makeup beneath your eye, and his heart tightens once more – this time with sadness rather than affection.

His hand reaches out to touch your cheek, and you’re shocked at the touch. “You’ve been crying?” He asks and you bow your head.

"I thought you left..."

Mark wants to laugh at the irony. You asked him to leave, and yet here you are, upset at the idea of his departure. He swears if he weren't so in love with you, he'd rant about how much you mess with his head, pushing him to the edge only to pull him back again.

“Would never leave you, baby, you know that,” his voice is soft and comforting as the rough edge of his fingertips finds your jaw.

You can't control it; tears fall freely from your eyes. He's being incredibly considerate and gentle with you, even after you acted like a bitch. Honestly, you almost wish he'd just yell at you instead. But he doesn’t, his eyes widen and he immediately sits up straight letting the blanket fall to the floor as he pulls you up to sit on his lap.

He shushes you, his hands finding your waist where he rubs soothing soft circles into the fabric of your tank top, “Hey, why are you crying? I’m here…please don’t get upset, Y/N.”

His kindness only amplifies your guilt.

"I'm so sorry," you stifle in short sobs, your voice almost cracking. "I should've talked to you about the job offer before signing the contract... I-I didn't mean to act so selfishly. I just... I wasn't thinking."

Mark gives you a half-smile as he runs a hand through your hair. "It's okay, baby... You got caught up in your dream. I'm sorry for not realising that. I'm the one being selfish by always expecting you to put me first."

"No—"

He interrupts you to continue his apology. "You were right, you know. I always expect you to wait for me while I'm on tour. I never considered it from the other side, with me waiting for you... But I will. I'll wait because I know how much this job means to you."

Your face buries itself in the crook of his neck as you cry even harder, and he tuts gently while rubbing your back.

"Please don’t cry, Y/N," he murmurs softly. "I hate seeing you upset."

"Can’t help it," you muffle. "I hate that I upset you…"

Mark pulls you away from his neck, needing to look into your eyes as he speaks. "It's normal for couples to argue, baby. We just need to promise to communicate better, okay?"

His fingers stroke your cheeks again, and you lean into his touch. The warmth of his hand feels so comforting as if he was made to soothe your skin, the only person capable of bringing you relief. You bite your lip and nod against his palm, because you're more than willing to work on your communication if it means never feeling like this again.

"Now, give me a smile. You know, the pretty one I like," he says with a laugh. "If I'm not going to see you for the next six months, I don’t want one of our last moments together to be so... sad."

You smile at him and press your forehead against his with a whisper. "Me neither.”

You’re so close to each other that you’re practically sharing the same breath, if you had said that two hours ago you wouldn’t have believed yourself. But here you are, lips so close that your heavy breathing practically begs him to kiss you.

Mark feels it too, so when he does, it's like the softness of his lips is a bandage, mending the angry tension between the two of you. It patches up the last few hours that have transpired, and when he pulls away, it feels as if nothing even happened.

His hands grip your hips firmly, his fingers pressing down as he guides your body to grind against his clothed crotch. His lips find yours again, accompanied by a groan that escapes into your mouth. It's only when you feel him harden beneath you that you remember he was half-naked on the sofa – clearly after you locked him out of the bedroom.

Suddenly feeling suffocated by your own clothes, you pull away from him to strip off your tank top, tossing it over your head before discarding it somewhere in the living room. You yearn to meet his lips again – the only place you truly feel safe – but Mark wants to savour the way you look. Your clothed cunt eagerly grinding against his hard-on, hips chasing a high so eagerly that your bra strap has slid loosely down your arm.

You're a vision, Mark thinks, one that has him salivating and desperate to fuck you. He almost curses at himself for nearly ruining it all, for nearly walking out on the most beautiful person on the planet, the best sex he's ever had – and not only that but also the funniest, sweetest person he knows he'll ever meet.

He leans into your neck, his nose nuzzling into you as he whispers softly, "I'm sorry... so sorry, Y/N." His hand leaves your hips to cup your breast over your bra, massaging the mound with just enough pressure to elicit soft moans from your lips.

“‘s okay,” you whimper.

Your head falls back as his hand snakes around to unclasp it. He wastes no time brushing his intrusive fingers down your chest, wearing a filthy smirk because he knows just how sensitive you are there. The tip of his finger circles around your nipple until he’s right in the centre, feeling it harden under his touch. He pinches it, and you jolt forward on his cock, making his boxers tighten, and he groans.

He loves how responsive you were to him, watching you writhe over him as he touched you in torturous pleasure. Just the way you arch your back into his touch has pre-cum leaking out of his cock.

He leans in this time, sucking on your nipple and opening wide to get as much of the tender tissue of your breast in his mouth as possible. He holds your waist in place to keep you grinding on him to entice enough friction for him to feel good too.

And when he looks down to see where the two of you meet, he moans when he sees the wet patch leaking through your shorts onto his boxers.

“Fuck, so wet for me, baby. Just for me.”

You whimper, and his hand slips into the hem of your shorts. You’re glad you never wear panties to bed because his fingers find your clit immediately, relieving you of some of the neediness you’ve been feeling from grinding down on him. He rubs small circles as his mouth licks and sucks and nips at your bud.

“Mark…”

“Shhh baby,” he coos, “wanna make it up to you. Please let me make it up to you, let me make you feel good.”

You whimper with a nod of your head, humping into his hand, legs opening wider to give him easier access to the place you’re most sensitive. You let out mild pants, hips bucking more aggressively from the stimulation on both your nipple and clit.

And when Mark notices you getting close, he pulls off your tit to look up at your face. It’s his favourite part — watching your features contort when the bliss is at its highest. It makes his chest swell with pride knowing he’s the one making you cum, knowing his touch is enough to make you shake and moan. And if he wasn’t such a selfish lover, he’d think the sight is something everyone should see at least once.

As you come down from your orgasm, your eyes flutter open to meet him. Mark doesn’t know whether it’s from seeing your orgasm paired with the argument from earlier but he’s the hardest he’s ever been.

You notice it too, looking down and giggling. “Now it’s my turn to make it up to you.”

He lets out a soft huff, and a muscle in his jaw twitches with his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat before he nods. You free his cock from his boxers and shimmy yourself out of your shorts. You let out identical gasps when your bare cunt brushes against the tip of his cock.

Slowly, you sink onto him, fully feeling him inside of you. Your head falls forward, your forehead resting against his shoulder as you take in the size of him, the way he fills you just right — the way he always does.

The stretch as you take him in never gets old, eliciting the same whimpers and whines. You can feel his hands resting on your hips, then slipping to the bend of your waist, silently urging you to move as he presses you downwards.

You lift your hips, slow and steady as you let the sensations wash over you, drawing a low groan from deep in his chest. His grip on your body tightens as you sink back down, blunt nails digging into your skin. The sounds he makes only drive you further into finding a teasing rhythm because his voice is just so pretty. The sounds are soon muffled to your disappointment when his mouth presses into your skin, so his tongue can slide along the top of your breast — making the disappointment fade away real quick.

You let out a breathy cry, hands rising from where they’ve been resting, flattening against his chest, to wrap around his shoulders. The slow pace you’d adopted was becoming not enough. And you could tell from the way Mark is rutting his hips up to meet you, he shares the same sentiment.

Your mouths collide as you pick up the pace, using his shoulders to leverage yourself as you bounce up and down on his cock. When he breaks from the kiss, an unrestrained groan slips past his lips, low and rough, followed by another, and you have to bite back a whimper of your own.

Mark can’t help the noises, he just loves the way you swivel your hips in a way that makes him see stars. He loves watching you work yourself on him for pleasure – he loves when you ride him.

And right when you squeeze around him, he rewards you with a loud, obscene groan, a sound that makes you dizzy and limp. Everything about Mark is intoxicating and downright addicting, and you were in no hurry to kick that addiction. In fact, you craved more of it – needed more.

You grab his hands and guide them across your body. He squeezes them at your hips, smoothing across your thighs, your stomach. His hands were everywhere, eyes dark and desperate, wordlessly begging for you to give him what he needed, the same thing he’d been kind enough to already give you.

So you rock yourself forward, providing a new type of friction that makes you whine helplessly into his skin. Blunt nails mark into the plush of your thighs, a futile attempt at grounding himself. The upward thrust of his hips and the strained catch of his breath tells you that he's growing impatient. You know the pace was slow, but damn it, it felt so fucking good to feel him like this, every inch of him sliding into you, hitting all the spots that makes your brain stop working. It also felt like a sick little way to get revenge...

“Faster,” you hear him say. “Please baby, need it faster.”

You could feel his hips bucking up to meet you. Then his thumb finds your clit, working in circles and making you squeeze around him with a shrill, gasping cry. It was his attempt at bargaining with you, doing anything to make you speed up and shamelessly fuck yourself on his cock. Maybe if he pleases you, you’ll let him cum.

“Please fuck me properly baby, need it,” he rasps, “You want me to forgive you right?”

And then you remember what led you here in the first place. You’d upset him and now you’re teasing him – you suppose it’s only fair if you pick up the pace a little more, fuck him messily and desperately enough to have him dizzying towards his climax.

And once you do, his thrusts grow sloppier, and your thighs start aching. It feels too fucking good so all that you can do is cling to him and let him take the lead, strong hands guiding you as he sucks against your neck. And even though you’re supposed to be the one making him cum, you find yourself buried in the crook of his neck, gasping as your walls clench and nails dig into the skin of his strong back.

The slight stinging sensation is enough to work Mark over the edge, and you feel him twitch inside of you, sending shock waves up your spine as he fucks his cum inside of you with a final powerful thrust. You roll your hips to help him along, taking all you can get from him and he moans his appreciation as you do.

You remain tangled up in one another as you come down from your respective highs with foreheads pressed close. You wrestle to find his hand, lacing your fingers with his as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. He kisses your nose, then your lips, with a tenderness that makes your heart feel like it’s being squeezed.

You don’t want to move just yet, so you release your hands and wrap them around his neck, nuzzling your nose against his before you speak.

"Mark?" You mumble, your voice tired and hazy. He hums in response.

"I’m sorry," you say softly.

You feel his smile against your mouth before he kisses your lips. "It’s okay, baby. I don’t even remember what we were fighting for."

#🏷frompaige #mark lee smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #nct smut #mark lee x reader #nct dream x reader #nct 127 x reader #nct x reader #kpop smut #nct hard hours #nct oneshot

291 notes · View notes

yunhoszn · 20 hours

Text

to hell with it

pairing jung wooyoung x f!reader word count 5k genres angst﹒smut﹒teeniest bit of fluff here and there warnings 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, all lowercase bc she was supposed to be short and vibey and… that just did not happen, mentions and use of weed, very strict parents, lowkey fuckboy wooyoung lol, lots of kissing, marking, scratching, wooyoung has a fascination with reader’s tits lol, nipple play, no real foreplay, unprotected sex, cowgirl and missionary style, dacryphilia, exhibitionism kinda, quite a few references to religious-ish themes, unrequited love in a sense? i got carried away im so sorry

summary you could draw several heaven-hell parallels from this moment in time, from the way wooyoung buries himself inside of you, and you always return to the idea that he’s straight from hell.

more ok… like i said… i got carried away oopsie 😝 this was a request from my lovely wife of 20+ years @juyofans <3 i’m sorry if i strayed too far from the original idea,,, it just happened ok 🙇 also a huge thank u to @bro-atz for betaing for me i LOVE U SO MUCH!! that’s all lets keep this note short and sweet :P reblog if u enjoyed!

@atzhouse

“shit.”

the curse slips from your mouth so naturally upon the discovery that your stash is completely finished. you rummage through the drawer one more time in case you might’ve missed something, but alas, you’ve run into the worst possible scenario. no more weed.

it’s not like you were dependent on it. but it was the end of a long week and it happened to be one of those days. an edible, a long rip from your bong, or a hit from a blunt wrapped with your pretty pink rolling paper sounded like fucking heaven right about now.

you still lived at home, though, and your parents had no clue that you dabbled with marijuana, so you had to keep everything hidden in your room. unfortunately, it was just too expensive to get your own place in this day and age. and despite the fear of getting caught deeply instilled in you, you were extremely desperate.

and well, desperate times called for desperate measures…

“hey, wooyoung…” you speak into the receiver.

your relationship with the guy was complicated. it had nothing to do with him, and everything to do with you. he’d been your plug for a couple years now, and his pretty face made it really hard not to develop a crush. every time you bought from him, you always tried to get a lot at once so you could space out how often you saw him to make things easier on your heart.

the two of you went to high school together, and the first time you reached out in regards to your secret habit was awkward. to say the least. all of your friends had purchased something from him at least once or twice, so they assured you that he was the real deal. but you had only ever mooched off of them and didn’t have the faintest idea what you were supposed to say or do. (what with having dictators for parents and the lot.)

you remember sending him a dm in the most cryptic way possible. he laughed it off, thinking about how cute it was that you didn’t know what you were getting yourself into. but, like every other occasion in which you’d spoken to him, he had a girlfriend at the time. the first time it was haeun, then there was jisu, and it was kind of hard to keep up with the names after that. his patience was endearing, though, and it always left you wanting more out of your conversations. (which is, understandably, what attracted you to the guy.)

he was definitely not a one-partner, commitment type of guy, and that’s all you could ever want out of someone. you thought keeping distance to halt any feelings from growing was the smartest decision. if you didn’t get close to him, it would help squash whatever flame burned beneath your chest.

but now it was time for that little crush to unearth itself, as it does whenever you see him.

“hey, y/n, what’s up?” you can hear the smile in his voice, the one that has your insides melting and your panties nearly dropping to the floor in an instant. it’s almost cocky, like he was expecting your call. and he probably was, all things considered.

“um…“ you stop yourself, squeezing your eyes shut and biting your lip, tilting your head back. “are you free to do a drop right now?”

the digital clock on your nightstand read 9:28 PM and your parents wouldn’t be home for another hour or so, having left for the movies a little over an hour ago. (that was the only reason why you were even thinking of pulling something as idiotic as this.)

not even were you just not allowed to have boys over. you weren’t allowed to have people over period, at least not if your parents were out. in spite of being a grown adult, they still managed to enforce strict rules and curfews on you. you were breaking so many by making this fucking phone call.

Do Not Think About Talking To Boys Under Our Roof.

“yeah, actually. i have to do another in the area so that works out perfectly. i can be there in ten.” he answers and that stupid smile pops into your head again.

Absolutely No Strangers Allowed In The House Without Us Present.

“okay cool— wait, you remember my address?” your brow scrunch together, the confusion boiling up inside of you. he snorts, some shifting audible in the background.

No Alcohol Unless We Are Present, Absolutely No Drugs Allowed.

“yeah? why wouldn’t i?” he asks so nonchalantly, you almost miss it. “i’ll be there soon, babe.”

he ends the call before you can even say anything, still holding your phone to your ear. your jaw hangs open and heat begins to bloom behind your cheeks. this was exactly why you were avoiding him as long as possible. jung wooyoung was a natural flirt, and you were very delusional.

this was fine, right? all you had to do was exchange the goods and money, then send him on his way. it would be like nothing ever happened, like no one was ever here. your parents would be none the wiser and you could finally relax. it would be just like when you were sneaking around in high school, having him drop when you didn’t have a car—

fuck.

you could’ve just met him somewhere instead, huh? you didn’t have the issue of being car-less anymore. you could’ve told your parents you were running out to grab some things from the store and hid it in your bags in case they were home before you. could’ve done literally anything else except act this irrational.

This Is An Honest and Trustworthy Household â€” No Lying Will Be Tolerated.

maybe, subconsciously, you’ve been wanting to see him in this setting again. there was a thrill in breaking your parents rules. you supposed something special, something exciting sparked under your skin all those times you snuck into the backyard to meet with wooyoung through the side gate. but right now, you’re pacing inside your bedroom. this wasn’t the time to get poetic and reminisce about being a schoolgirl with a crush.

you were bulldozing through just about everything on your parents’ list of Do Nots and you feel like you should be more anxious about it. for some reason you’re less afraid of pissing them off. you’re entirely too concerned with looking good for wooyoung, and you don’t even hear the shrill sound of your phone ringing.

wooyoung’s contact lights up the screen, sending all sorts of panic signals to your brain. you severely underestimated how long ten minutes was, and also how long you’d been standing in front of the mirror gawking at yourself like a damn fish out of water. this was embarrassing. you were better than this, god, you were so much better than to lose yourself like this over a man. but jung wooyoung somehow made all rhyme and reason escape you like he was some sexy version of the pied piper.

before you realize it, your feet have carried you down the stairs and to the front door. on the other side stand wooyoung, his backpack slung over his shoulder. he’s dressed in a red zip up hoodies and some baggy jeans. his hair is longer than when you last saw him, long enough to have some of the strands tucked loosely behind his ears. you think you’re entranced by his visuals alone, and then he opens his mouth.

”told ya i remembered.” his words drip with that charisma that sucks you in further, deeper, into the chasm you kept trying to avoid.

”uh— c-come in,” you usher him into your house and up the stairs into your room, just in case. “my parents aren’t home, but i don’t know if my neighbors are watching or something. and just in case they get back earlier, it’s easier to hide you in here than anywhere else.”

wooyoung nods with a snort, eyes wandering around the bedroom you’ve had since you were two years old. he’s never been inside of your house before, much less inside of your room. it’s very you; various posters littering the walls, makeup and skincare products cluttered around your vanity, comfy-looking sheets.

Definitely No Boys Allowed In Your Room.

“you know, y/n, i was pleasantly surprised when you called,” he shrugs off his bag, setting it on the foot of your bed, dragging his finger along the footboard. “i was starting to miss my favorite customer.”

just about everything but standing right here sounded ideal to you. if there were miraculously a sniper stationed on the roof of the house next to yours, you hoped you were in his line of sight and he would take you out. it was as if he knew. he knew exactly what his effect on you was, and that was absolutely perfect, now wasn’t it?

“your— huh?” you’re sure you sound stupid, especially so when he laughs, unzipping his backpack to take out what he was here for. the smell alone practically recalibrates your system and reboots you. wooyoung notices.

”we’ve never smoked together, have we?” he asks, pulling out the tube he was looking for. it’s about an eighth, which is less than what you usually buy from him, but you’re in no position to complain. you shake your head ‘no’ as he hands it to you, before pulling out another and doing the same thing. you raise an eyebrow at him.

”this is—“

”no, i know,” he purses his lips with a nod, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth and swiping across the bottom one. “consider it a gift, for being so loyal to me all these years.”

you guffaw in disbelief. what the fuck?

”wooyoung, you can’t possibly—“

”just let me smoke you out this once. that’s all i ask in return,” he seats himself on the edge of your bed. “and we’ll even use my stuff. you can save yours for later. i’ll make it worth your while.”

you would be cutting it really close to the time your parents were supposed to be home. but he was so tempting. and you were so weak. so, so pitifully weak.

”okay…” you let yourself say. you let yourself divulge just this once. “but, remember—“

”yes yes, your parents. do you think this is my first rodeo?” he laughs, pulling out a little plastic baggie that appears to have pre-ground weed in it. almost like… he was anticipating this? when he reaches into his backpack for what you assume is wraps, you jump to grab your pink rolling paper. you’d been so excited to use it, you weren’t going to let this opportunity go to waste.

batting your lashes at him is the only way you know how to convince him, though it doesn’t really take much convincing. your rolling skills still weren’t the best, despite doing this as long as you have, so you watch in awe as wooyoung does it. his fingers move expertly, and you have to blink away the thoughts threatening to overthrow the sane ones that have been struggling to keep afloat.

wooyoung fishes for the lighter in his pocket, red like the color of his jacket. he lights the blunt and holds it carefully between his fingers. you think he’s going to take the first hit, but then he’s holding it to your lips, gesturing for you to do it. “ladies first.” he throws in with that obnoxiously attractive laugh of his. you hesitantly follow his lead, sitting beside him, then inhaling and filling your chest.

your exhale isn’t as graceful as you hoped it would be, a couple coughs coming out of you, but it was a strong hit. he rubs his free hand up and down your thigh to soothe you, hitting it himself. he’s definitely a lot more experienced than you, in what he does and how he does it, breathing it out into the atmosphere. your room is a little foggy now and you have half the mind to crack open a window, however, you’re hyper aware of his hand on your thigh. and you don’t want it to go away.

If Any Of These Rules Are Broken, You Risk Being Kicked Out.

it’s calm for a few minutes, just the two of you rotating the blunt in comforting silence, his hand still branding its place on your thigh. and then his thumb starts to move. it circles into your bare skin gently, kneading mindlessly. you almost let out a whine, but you catch yourself, concealing it as a cough instead.

“you like me, don’t you, y/n?” wooyoung asks, puffing out a thick white cloud and pouting. “that’s why you buy a lot from me at once. that’s why i sometimes only see you once a month.”

the question catches you so off guard, you almost grab the pink blunt by the spark. he sets it in your ashtray, conveniently placed on one of your bedposts. you stare at him blankly, because how fucking perceptive do you have to be to figure that out? your crush was probably a little more than obvious, sure, but the avoidant tendency you had couldn’t possibly be linked to that. not unless he truly knew you like the back of his hand.

he leans back onto his palms with a snicker, carding his fingers through his hair. the way he’s positioned allows you to glimpse at a bit more of his chest from the partially unzipped jacket. the only thing you see is that it’s bare, and your brain short circuits. it was already frying itself when he called you out, now there wasn’t a single functioning cell up there.

“i’m high like sixty percent of the time, i see everything. i know everything.” he answers your unspoken inquiry. and well, that may be true, but it’s not like you’re doing much to refute with the way you’re ogling at him. (you were a horny high, unfortunately.)

“what—“ you swallow, suddenly all too aware of how close you’re sitting, of how his grip on your thigh is a little more primal. “what if i said no? what then?”

“i’d think you were a liar,” he smiles, that fucking smile you can picture in your head even through a phone call. “and i don’t like being lied to.”

“so it’s a good thing i haven’t said no yet, right?” you breathe, voice entirely too stable for the situation. his hand rises higher on your thigh, the tip of his index finger brushing under your shorts. you glance down at it, eyes already heavy lidded as they observe the way it drags across your skin. fuck.

“mhm,” he hums, gauging your reaction to his touch. “it’s very good.”

you’re losing your patience the longer you sit there, tortured by wooyoung’s hand searing on your thigh. your heart seems to beat faster and you feel like you can tell with the rise and fall of your chest picking up in speed. his lips on yours is all that you want, all that you need, and under this spell (the intoxication swimming through your bloodstream), you’re willing to accept the consequences that may come with it.

a gasp escapes you when his nail scrapes along the side of your leg with the pressure of a feather. it’s overwhelming, to say the least. you want more and more and more, and then so much more until you can’t take it, but part of you is still insecure that he’ll leave you strung out on a clothesline if you indulge. you’re beyond thinking about the repercussions if you’re caught. you’re focused on the repercussions of being hurt if you give in.

but enough is enough.

placing your hand over his own, you slip it under your t-shirt where you’ve been braless this entire time. wooyoung’s eyes widen and you grab one of his hoodie strings, yanking him closer to you. your noses brush and your eyes meet, a silent ask for permission to finally play into what you’ve both been waiting for.

you don’t really give him a second to rethink it.

your lips connect in a rough, messy kiss that has you believing in the existence of a god. one that’s granted what you’ve been dreaming of for years. maybe after this you’ll start praying before bed again, especially if it always rewards you this well.

his mouth slots against yours like it’s the missing piece of a puzzle, your tongues tangling and your teeth nearly clashing. wooyoung’s hand on your chest regains its own control, squeezing your breast and flicking his thumb over a perked nipple. his other hand grips your waist, pulling you onto his lap. your knees dig into the mattress, hands cupping under his jaw and then entwining in his hair.

you sigh into his kiss, obsessed with this length on him. you’re sure he feels the same when he groans after you tug on it, deepening the kiss if possible. the sigh turns into a moan when he guides your hips into a circular motion, grinding you down on him to create a bit of friction and get the ball rolling.

he knows you don’t have a lot of time, maybe an hour tops, but fuck he wishes he could take his time with you. he wished he could explore your body and learn every single thing you liked and didn’t like, and use it all to his advantage. his senses are heightened so he’s keenly aware of your every sound, of each whine that escapes you.

wooyoung’s mouth travels from your own, along your jaw, and down your throat, nipping and sucking so he leaves his mark on you wherever he can. your lips part with a soft moan when he finds the sensitive spot on your neck. his hand is still in your shirt, kneading and massaging your tits like it was second nature for him.

your high has reached its peak, and you’re starting to get light headed from how good everything feels. if he didn’t touch you where you needed him most soon, you feared you might finish prematurely, and after all that you’ve been through to get to this point, you really cannot handle that tonight. thankfully, he seems to read your mind.

“i would love to make up for lost time, but i don’t think we can right now,” he pants into your skin, hands everywhere but somehow nowhere all at once. “let me just—“

“stop yapping and just fuck me, wooyoung, you’re wasting precious time,” you groan, going straight for the zipper of his jacket. you push the red material off of his shoulders in one go, practically pawing at the button of his jeans. he laughs at your impatience, but knows you’re right.

“well, when you put it like that, i don’t feel bad for the disgusting things i wanna do to you,” he teases, helping you pull your shirt over your head. “gonna fuck you so good, you’re gonna wanna see me more than once a month.”

the call out is crazy, but you don’t have the mental capacity to argue with him, head tossing back when he takes one of your tits into his mouth. you scrape your nails down the expanse of his chest and abdomen, a reprieve to the static buzzing throughout your body with wooyoung’s lips all over you. his teeth sink into your collarbone and you nearly lose your sanity. this was it, there was no going back now that you’ve fallen under his spell.

his skilled fingers make quick work removing your shorts and you’re so beyond restless, that he has a bit of trouble getting them down your legs. he stills your hips firmly, practically scolding you when he says, “sit still, pretty, i’m not going anywhere.”

it’s a weird reaffirmation, and in a way it calms your erratic mind. you finally let go of those reservations and allow yourself to submit to these feelings you’ve harbored for years. the heat of wooyoung beneath you is enough to make you squirm again, needing him inside of you before you start crying. (though judging by what he’s said so far, you think he’d like that.)

“god, i need you so bad,” you whine, lips locking with his once more. you speak the words into his mouth and they hold all the subtlety of an excavator, desperation hanging off of each syllable. “please…”

you can feel, rather than see, the conniving smile that graces his features, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. he’s dangling your desire in front of you like a ball of yarn with a cat, the bed of his nails dragging along your hips slowly and tortuously. you reach down to cup his erection through his boxers and that’s what spurs him on, dropping his mischievous act in favor of gifting you what you’ve been asking for so nicely.

wooyoung pushes your underwear to the side, kicking off his boxers so he’s bare for you. part of you is way more excited than you should be to fuck him raw, for the first time nonetheless. he leans back slightly and watches as you hover over his cock, sitting on it gently. he’s definitely on the longer side, longer than the other guys you’ve been with— not that there were very many to compare him to. he fills you up just right, tapping that sweet crook of your pussy when he sheathes entirely.

the moan that breaches the sound barrier fights itself from deep in your chest, tickling his ears and forcing out one of his own. his grip on your hips tightens as you begin to move. it’s more of him moving your body for you, not that you’re complaining at all. less work for you.

with each bounce on his cock, your bed squeaks and it wouldn’t be such a problem if you didn’t also hear the front door open downstairs. your eyes widen almost comically, meeting wooyoung’s with a fear so intense that it nearly scares him too. gratefully, he’s been in this situation before. he holds a finger up to his lips to shush you, simultaneously flipping the two of you so your back is flat on the bed and his feet are planted on the floor.

you’re glad you had the clear mind to lock your door when you came up to your room. you don’t know if it’s because it’s wooyoung, or maybe you’re just into it, but you feel yourself getting more turned on as he continues to fuck you despite your parents being home. he covers your mouth with his hand, rocking his hips into yours with a purpose. his free hand slithers between the two of you, thumb rubbing calculated circles into your clit.

”take it,” he rasps into your ear, nipping the lobe softly; a contrast to what’s tumbling out of his mouth. “take it like the good girl you are.”

at that same moment, there’s a knock on your bedroom door. wooyoung doesn’t stop, in fact, he speeds up his pace, pushing your thigh to your chest so he plunges deeper into your cunt. he’s evil, pure evil.

”y/n, are you in there?” your mother asks.

”y-yes,” you gasp, willing your voice to stay steady. “i was getting ready to go to s-sleep.”

“you sound off… are you feeling okay?” she expresses her concern and you look to wooyoung for help.

you bite down harshly on your lower lip when he leans down to suck on one of your tits instead, still very roughly snapping into you. he urges you to say something anyway, so you can at least get them to leave you alone. “y-yes! i’m fine! i was just looking f-for my pajamas!”

he laughs lowly so only you can hear, gazing at you through his lashes and whispering, “should we tell her they’re on your floor?”

your mother doesn’t question you any further. ”okay… goodnight, sweetheart.”

”goodnight!”

her footsteps get quieter as she walks away from your door. the shit-eating grin on wooyoung’s face contributes to the growing ache in the pit of your stomach more than it pisses you off. unfortunately he just had that effect on you. it was hard to be mad at him when he made you feel like you were lit ablaze, fire burning all the way to the tips of your fingers.

“look at you, sweetheart,” you hate that the pet name has you clenching around his length. his lips trail down your body, worshiping it like you were his own personal goddess. “you’re taking my cock so perfectly.”

if you could scream, you would. you’d be as loud as possible so your whole block knew who was fucking you this good. you’d chant his name like a prayer, which was ironic considering he was, in a sense, more like an incubus. you could draw several heaven-hell parallels from this moment in time, from the way wooyoung buries himself inside of you, and you always return to the idea that he’s straight from hell. the way he lures you in, like the serpent with eve in the garden of eden. he has you turning your back on all forms of reason.

but this inebriation, this sweet poison coursing through your bloodstream as applies practiced pressure to your clit, has your whole being soaring. you could care less about the trouble that comes with it, especially when it has your back arching off of your mattress and into his chest.

your lips pry open in a silent moan when he presses up against that same spongy nook in your pussy. tears well in your eyes as they roll back, spilling down the sides of your cheeks. wooyoung kisses them away and fucks into you harder, inching closer and closer towards what you’re already on the precipice of.

having gone nonverbal after nearly getting caught, it requires so much energy for you to croak out, “‘m so close, woo, so so close…”

he hums approvingly, back at your mouth now. his lips mold with yours so smoothly and your fingers tangle in his hair so easily. you want this forever, to be his in more ways than one. but after tonight, you don’t know how likely that is to happen, and you’ll let yourself be satiated by this one time.

you’re lost in the sensation of his kiss, disappearing in the feeling of his dick sliding in and out of your cunt without restriction. and maybe this would’ve been so different had you not been high. maybe this wouldn’t have happened at all had you been sober. your vision is hazy and your head is clouded, but you’ve never felt so liberated.

wooyoung grazes his nose against yours, a stark contrast in the behavior he’s exhibited tonight. even as he does so, his lower half is still pounding into you without mercy. and for some reason, that tenderness is what has you slipping through the cracks. your orgasm washes over you with no warning, crashing and colliding into your being almost violently.

the fluttering of your walls around his cock has wooyoung finishing right behind you, lashes skimming the tops of your cheeks in butterfly kisses that prolong the climax of your release. it’s much more intimate than you expected, your heart swelling and your body shivering with its implications. he slows his pace to something steady, something that just metaphorically holds your hand through your orgasm.

as you recover from the weight of it all, you realize that you’re still crying. wooyoung attempts to swipe away your tears with his thumbs, but when he notices that they aren’t stopping, his eyebrows knit together in confusion. he slides out of you and back into his boxers, scouring your bedroom floor for your t-shirt. he sits you up gently and cups your jaw in his hand.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, uncharacteristically serious. you’re used to him being playful and joking about everything, so for him to show genuine concern about your emotions means a lot. a lot.

“i’m okay— i’m fine, i’m just being weird.” you dismiss his worries though, since it’s true. he doesn’t owe you anything and you don’t want to guilt him into anything just because your crush is a little heavier than the schoolgirl crush he’s made it out to be. he shakes his head. he’s not having any of that.

”no, you’re upset about something. don’t water yourself down like that.” you don’t like that this is fueling your delusions, don’t like that you want him so much more than you thought you could. and maybe you could’ve stopped yourself, had you not looked at him. your gaze traces from the beauty mark under his eye to the way his hair frames his face.

“i want something i can’t have,” is what you settle on, swallowing down that bitter pill that you’ve been avoiding tonight. “and i think i’m finally coming to terms with it.”

wooyoung searches your expression for thicker substance, as if that will hint towards a clearer answer than what you’ve given him. he finds it in that painfully sad smile of yours. he finds it in the heartache swirling in the pools of your irises. you know he didn’t mean to lead you on. it’s not his fault, really. you understood what you were getting yourself into. none of the blame can be placed in his hold, because it doesn’t belong to him.

”i should go,” he says after a long stretch of silence. “before either of us get into any trouble.”

you watch as he dresses himself quickly and exits through the window, taking your heart along with him. but it would be okay. you wouldn’t have to see him for another month anyways.

at least, that’s what you tell yourself as you reignite the blunt sitting in your ashtray.

#atzhouse #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez wooyoung #ateez jung wooyoung #jung wooyoung #jung wooyoung x reader #jung wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung smut #yunhoszn

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circus-clangen · 21 hours

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(Last text dump of the day I promise)

SO I've been thinking a lot about my main ocs... I have plans to make a webcomic with them SOMEDAY, and in a lot of ways, CircusClan is the sort of test subject to that... Because of that, there are a LOT of similarities between the two, and there are a lot of similarities between the characters... So here's my little self-indugent self-comparison list, between CircusClan and the Live Forever Carnival cast: Ringstar and Dane McCormick: Are they protagonists? Are they antagonists? Who could say... Misguided souls trying to help out in misguided ways...

Tigertoe and Benjamin Bower: Naive protagonists that are too hopeful and innocent to believe anyone would wish them harm....

Trapezetangle and Whip Eisenhower: VERY different personalities between them but they serve a similar role: a.k.a trying to get everyone to just STOP IT

Whippaw and Cecil Farley: Overly-energetic fellas egging everyone on 🤩

Goldmask and Zahra Zamfir: Causing Problems on Purpose

Monkeypaw and Ambrose Zamfir: The ONLY sane ones and they are trying their best

EDIT BC I FORGOR CLOWN: Clowish and Eden, "The Jester": Terrible men bottom text

Anways. Self indulgent post over 🤩

#circusclan #live forever carnival

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the-cryptographer · 2 days

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thinking about that banter where anders asks fenris if he's ever considered suicide and it's weird bc anders definitely started this conversation to upset and embarrass and trigger fenris, and a lot of fans are upset and embarrassed and triggered by it (myself included tbh. i remember it starting up in my game once and walking directly to the nearest stage change to make it stop.) but i think everyone gets too caught up in how shitty it was for anders to do this that they tend to miss fenris's actual response and that this banter becomes one of the most even keeled conversations the two of them have in the whole game. like fenris refuses to emotionally escalate. anders likewise backs down. the result is this incredibly morbid and melancholic little exchange where they ruminate on the differences between their values and characters - that fenris would rather submit than die and anders would rather die than submit - and for a moment they're both sharing the same sadness about where these limitations have gotten them. it's amazing. it's weird. it's a bit of concilation and compassion that never would have happened if anders hadn't been the most tactless person in the thedas.

#anders #fenris #lork dragon age opinions

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wikiangela · 2 days

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20 Questions for Fic Writers

tagged by @dangerpronebuddie @diazsdimples thank you <33

How many works do you have on ao3?

right now it's 90! (57 of these are 911 lol)

What's your total ao3 word count?

535,450

What fandoms do you write for?

currently just 911, but I have some destiel and sambucky fics and who knows, I might get back to them at some point haha

Top 5 fics by kudos:

For a holiday (and forevermore)

I can't love you any more (than I do now)

I'd marry you with paper rings

the next best thing

There’s no way that it’s not going there (with the way that we’re looking at each other)

(they're all buddie and I just noticed that the top 4 are all over 1k kudos?? when did that happen lmao)

Do you respond to comments?

I do! sometimes it takes me a while bc i get lowkey overwhelmed lol but I always do!

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

there's not a lot bc I prefer happy or hopeful endings, but I guess by post 6x10 fics? Fine and don't know what I'd do if your tomorrow never came idk lol

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

most of my fics have happy endings, but I guess I'd say For a holiday (and forevermore)

Do you get hate on fics?

not really? got like one or two not very nice comments but generally no haha

Do you write smut?

yes I do 😁 not often and it always takes me forever but I do have two smut fics in the works (one buddie, one bucktommy lol)

Craziest crossover?

don't have any

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

no, as far as I know

Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope

Have you co-written a fic before?

All time favorite ship?

buddie

(ngl, bucktommy is a veeeeery close second rn🙈)

What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

there's two that have been fighting me for so long they're lowkey abandoned now and tbh I don't know if I still want to finish them? one is a 5+1 nicknames, and the other just a silly idea about eddie flirting with buck since they met but buck being veeeery oblivious lol

What are your writing strengths?

I think (usually) I'm pretty good at staying true to the characters and not making them too ooc (and I know when it's ooc, okay, I have one wip rn where I just don't give a fuck, I'm writing it anyway lol), and I can get into their heads pretty well. Also I think I'm good at the cute fluffy stuff lol idk

What are your writing weaknesses?

there's probably a lot lol - rn the one that comes to mind is descriptions probably, which is why writing fanfic where we have established characters and settings is so much easier than og stuff haha

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I don't mind it but I don't do it a lot aside from a pet name here and there bc I just don't wanna get anything wrong lol

First fandom you wrote in?

for tv shows supernatural, but before that I did write rpf which i just wanna forget about lol

Favorite fic you've written?

rn it's three:

we don't know where this is going now (don't be afraid of heights, let me open your heart wide) - my tommy pov fic <3

I'm comin' back, don't let me go - buck driving/breakdown fic

baby, you drive me wild - car smut - might not be my best but it's my fave smut lol

tags: @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck @loserdiaz @evanbegins

@wildlife4life @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @weewootruck @loveyouanyway

@spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @spotsandsocks

@rogerzsteven @hippolotamus @sunshinediaz @honestlydarkprincess @exhuastedpigeon

@jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @buddieswhvre @theotherbuckley @daffi-990

@hoodie-buck @tizniz @bidisasterevankinard

#wikiangela writes #20 questions #writer questions #fic writer #my fics #writing tag game

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brittmouse-spirals · 16 hours

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hi it's the girl who isn't allowed to cum this year, I've been edging more and more I edge for like at least an hour or two a day now if not more and your blog is still one of the things I look at most regularly while I edge bc you post a lot and your posts are so hot. FUCK I want to cum so so bad it’s all i can think about but good girls don't cum good girls rub their minds away good girls edge forever idont deserve to cum i want to be a good girl good girls dont cumm

…uh. oh yeah I'm sending this bc last time you said something about wanting to see how much of a mess I'd be by the end of the month so um hi here I am… I'm getting so much worse

- F

i'm so so proud to be one you touch and rub and edge and drool over! gosh you really have gotten worse haven't you? there's less and less of your old "smart girl" brain in your head after each edge. you're so much more desperate and weak and obedient. that programming you subject your weak toy mind to is taking over everything else. it leaves you docile, open, accepting of whatever your superiors say or want. how about you let me put some good girl wisdom in your head?

you need to edge. you don't need to cum. cumming makes the pleasure stop. stretch out that pleasure. you need to edge.

you don't deserve to cum. you're a dumb slut who gave up her orgasms for pleasure and control. keep denying yourself. keep scrolling. keep babbling brainlessly about what a good girl you are for not cumming. good girls don't cum. you don't deserve to cum.

keep edging, whore! go deeper. get worse. you love how much worse you are now. this is good for you. this is what you need. this is what you want. edge until all your thoughts leak out of you. edge until you forget what cumming feels like. edge until the greatest pleasure you get is from making your superiors cum. edge yourself empty. edge until you never want to cum again.

and then keep edging. deeper is the only way forward now. you're fucked. we're fucked. keep fucking edging, slut. tempt those around you. corrupt those around you. show them how good edging feels. get them hooked. make them edge sluts like you. edge to what you'll do to them. drool over their blank faces and busy fingers. pull each other even deeper into bliss.

after all, good girls make more good girls. 💖

keep me updated, slut, i've been edging myself to my own words towards you. i wanna watch you get worse. you're so fucking hot when you're denied, begging, and stupid!

(and remember, if this is ever overwhelming or interfering with your non-kink life, you have the permission and the duty to step back and recover. i know i just said a lot of very very degrading stuff, but you really do deserve rest and support. you're allowed to take as long a break as you need from edging - just as long as you don't cum. your needs come first. treat yourself like the prized princess you are, ok?)

#ask #anon ask #F anon #denied anon #brainwashing #bimbo brainwashing #hypnokink #good girls make more good girls #edge slvt #edge slave #pink makes me sink #pink text #good girls encourage each other #degradation kink #objectification kink #denial kink #edging kink #dumbification

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peachesofteal · 1 day

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RAAAAAAAAH CHAPTER 13 BRO!!!!!

as always, i read it like a rabid animal, and then reread the prev 4 chapters and then reread this again HAHA

your work ages like fine wine, and i read and treasure every word of it, especially on rereads when i can make myself slow down to really take it all in <3

"He takes it all away. Every time." made me WEEP!!!!! its what she DESERVES!!!! the dependability and the escape into him and simon (simon takes charge obvs, but johnny is just as much an outlet. sweet sweet boy)

i think he also realizes that she's seeing it as escapism and starts to fall away a bit, bc of how he stops her and asks to check in. it makes me curious abt his and simon's early relationship, if he's recognizing the same pattern of behavior and comparing them.

going on with that, when she was showing them her scars, AUUUUUUGH. that hit so hard man. the “No but… they’re hideous.”

“No.” Simon croaks, voice thick. “There isn’t a single part of you that isn’t perfect.”

SIMOOOOOOOON he sees so much of himself in her. its gotta be heartbreaking, knowing she's where he used to be. he gets it fr. i cant imagine two people more suited for her, someone who's been where she is and got out, and the person who's helped get that someone out of that pit. fuck dude. you're so good at this HAHAHA

im not gonna say nothin abt the good girl stuff…. but heehee!

also also "I'm not a little human nurse" made me laugh so hard LMAO pure arizona from grey's. ive been watching it lately (started right before you started posting simple math actually) reading the hospital bits of SM, you do a really good job of capturing the same energy and stakes and work dynamics that you get watching grey's. im honestly still waiting for the other shoe to drop on the stupid attending marshall, there's always something that a shitty attending can mess up down the road lmao

the ending on this chap killed me though. they knew she was flighty, and that she's smart and capable, but its gotta be so hard to get the relief of her coming back after the day out without answering the phone, only to find the papers the next morning. in bunny's defense though, she mentioned in chapters before moving in (i think before graves hurt her?) with them that she had to start looking at outs, and these papers aren't a 2-day turnaround; she probably bought them weeks ago and only now picked them up. i could be wrong though! i think its unfortunate timing, but she also probably just wants the relief knowing that she's got the backup plan accessible. as much as she loves the boys and penny, she's still not used to having the dependability. the safety scares her, or at least gives her the idea of a false sense of security, since she's been on edge for so so long.

i give her big smooch. poor bun. poor boys, and poor penny. manifesting the worst for graves, truly, rot in hell you idiot american

i hope you're feeling better, its lovely to read your works but even better when you're doing well yourself ❤️❤️❤️

I loved reading this! I adore you.

I love how you noticed that Johnny does stop to check in. He has a very firm grip on her mental and emotional state, (it’s not his first rodeo) and he knows just how to bring her back.

The two of them + Bunny is really a dream come true even if she doesn’t realize it yet (they do) and it will take a lot of time and work on everyone’s part.

I think your notes in your last paragraph are pretty spot on, too. Bunny will talk about it more in the next two chapters but- getting a new identity is not a two day turnaround.

Also yeah, I was channeling Arizona with that line 💀 I was hoping someone would catch it!

10/10 I love your breakdowns, no notes, perfection, they always make me smile.

#peaches asks #frogladder

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xxlady-lunaxx · 3 days

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hi, I'm not sure if you accept requests rn, but if you do, can u make a oneshot of sanemi nursing giyuu back to health after a near-death experience? like a demon, or maybe drowning, if not that's totally fine!

hhihi anon<3

Yes, I do accept requests from here bc I get considerably less on tumblr (which is a relief btw-), so I'll do it

I hope I wrote this quickly enough ;x; I think it took a couple of days, sorry

Thoughts of you | {SaneGiyuu}

Theme: Floof w/ practically non-existent angst

Note: Aaaa there wasn't a lot of the 'nursing back to health' IM SORRY- bc it was mostly giyuu falling in love towards middle-end

×××

Giyuu had worked himself to near-death quite literally. It wasn't on purpose, really! He had just gone... overboard. He'd gotten distracted. Which was unlike himself, unlike a Hashira. But it happened, and there wasn't any going back. He had trained from hour to hour, little to no stop, slept about two hours total in the last three days, and hadn't bothered to get any proper food. He supposed it was some prolonged adrenaline that kept him throughout the days, letting him trudge on. He had gotten another mission, at one point, after these days of totally-taking-care-of-himself, and had gone along tiredly. He had no time to rest, after all.

He had arrived on time, luckily, and had decapitated the demon within the first ten minutes. There was a couple other demons, which took longer to kill because they were hiding. Once finding them, he sapped up the strength he had left and killed them as well. He found, however, that he had used up any energy he'd had left, and tipped over. He wobbled, trying and failing to regain his balance. Then next thing he knew, he was submerged in water, arms aching as he attempted to swim to the surface. He hadn't realized there was an ocean here.

Then he realized there had been some sort of river, maybe. Connecting to a waterfall? It was either considerably deeper than he'd imagined or he was simply too exhausted to get up. He was floating upside down, his eyes shut tight to prevent water from entering them. He felt something sharp grazing his arm and flinched away before realizing it was his katana. He struggled for a moment, trying to sheathe it, but failed. He didn't feel like moving. His body felt like lead and he didn't know if he would ever move again. He felt the breath being drawn out from his lungs, replaced by water. It stung and he coughed, then realized that struggling would only worsen the pain. He stopped, allowing the water to enter his mouth, ignoring the throb in his lungs and the impulse to cough it out.

And suddenly he was flying. Rising? What was happening? His senses had long since faded to a low dull but he felt strong arms wrapping around his torso, lifting him up and out of the water. He felt heavier, the water that had soaked into his clothing weighing him down.

"Damn you, Tomioka..." a distant voice from above him said, annoyance and concern lacing the words.

Giyuu coughed pitifully, the air hitting him like a gust of arctic wind. He was placed down, grass poking at his skin. Hands pressed on his chest, making his cough more, water slowly forcing his way into or out of his lungs. He felt like he couldn't breathe, and didn't make a move to try. He vaguely registered lips against his own, the blissful feeling of air in his lungs again, before blacking out, his senses going dark.

He woke up, eventually. It hurt to breathe and he struggled to draw in a steady breath. His hand stung and he recalled having cut it somehow. His head throbbed like a lightbulb, fading in and out. He sat up slowly, dizzy from the blood that rushed to his head. He blinked. He was laying in a futon, a blanket draped over his body. He lifted his injured hand and found it bandaged. He looked around. He didn't recognize this place. It was unfamiliar to him, and he hated it.

His breath was constricted, though, and if he couldn't breathe well there really wasn't any chance of leaving. He coughed, the unsettling feeling of water still in his lungs making him want to tear them out.

His coughing had brought attention to him and he heard only a minute later he heard a clattering sound of something wooden falling, then footsteps making their way quickly to the room. He went to pretend he was asleep but was a moment too late when, to his shock, Sanemi entered.

He walked to the futon, kneeling down. "You're an idiot, Tomioka, you know that, right?"

Giyuu didn't respond, wondering if this was Sanemi's house then—or if he had simply been put up to the task of helping him.

Sanemi let out a breath. "Fine, be it your way. Does anything hurt particularily badly?"

Giyuu considered this and shook his head. No, nothing did. It stung when he breathed in and his hand and head hurt, but none of them were bad. He'd definitely experienced worse before.

"Good," Sanemi said with a nod. "Now, tell me what you were doing tipping over into the water on your mission."

"I'm sorry," Giyuu mumbled. He didn't know why he had let down his guard, let himself fall. He honestly didn't.

"You better be. Also, I had Kocho run some tests on you too. Turns out you haven't eaten or drunk enough water in the past few days or so, also you've had not even close to enough sleep, and according to your crow you haven't stopped training to do much in the first place," Sanemi said, an exasperated sigh leaving his body. "You're an idiot, Tomioka. Take better care of yourself."

Giyuu hesitated. "She can see that much from a test?"

Sanemi lifted a shoulder. "It was also just eyeing you. Those eyebags were enough indication in terms of sleep."

"Oh."

Sanemi nodded.

"I feel better now, I can go home," Giyuu said, starting to stand.

Sanemi pushed him back down. "No. You're staying here and sleeping until you get better. I don't want to see you getting up for anything except the bathroom, alright?"

Giyuu frowned. "But-"

"No."

There were no more arguments to be said. Sanemi left to go make some food and Giyuu was on his own again, fuming.

He looked down at himself and realized, for the first time, that he wasn't in his own clothes. Had Sanemi changed him?

He glanced around, not seeing his haori around. A sort of panic rose in him and he scrambled up, wobbling for a second, before making his way to the hall where he'd seen Sanemi go. He scampered through it, looking right and left. Had his haori fallen off or been ripped or?-

Sanemi stopped him, clear annoyance directed towards Giyuu. "What the hell are you doing up? I told you to stay down unless you needed the bathroom!"

Giyuu ignored him. "Where's... my haori?" he asked quietly, urgently.

Sanemi let out a breath. "If that was all, you could've just asked." Then his expression softened as he noticed the panic in Giyuu's voice. "It's fine. I washed it and it's drying now. You were soaked from the river, I wasn't about to leave you in those clothes and let you get sick."

Giyuu relaxed. He trusted that Sanemi wouldn't do anything to his haori—he didn't have any reason to, after all. "...thank you," he mumbled.

Sanemi nodded. "Now, back to bed."

He marched him back to the room, tucking him in.

"I'll bring you your food. So cooperate, okay?"

Giyuu nodded.

Sanemi nodded back, gave him one last look, before closing the door and going back down the hall.

×××

Despite Sanemi's usual arrogance, he was surprisingly tender when caring for Giyuu. There were times he reminded him of Tsutako, his hands gently wrapping bandages back around Giyuu's injured hand, feeding him food when Giyuu lapsed into some sort of fever for a couple days. It was soothing, almost, and Giyuu found great comfort from it. He didn't know that Sanemi was able to be like this but he loved it and hoped that maybe it would last a bit longer.

Though he was considerably kinder to Giyuu, Sanemi still found ways to berate him, getting mad at him when he tried getting up on his own during the fever.

While carrying him to the bathroom, Sanemi would snap at him, saying that he was being stubborn for not letting himself be helped. It was ironic that he reminded Giyuu of Tsutako; they were complete opposites in every way possible. But it was what seperated him from Tsutako, it was what made him his own person. And it was what made Giyuu's heart throb almost yearningly around Sanemi. He didn't understand it, at first. He figured it was just a reminising of his past days as a child—those of which he could barely remember, he might add. And yet as time passed on, he found it wasn't that. He found he had fallen for Sanemi. Somehow.

He thought it would be a fleeting crush. Maybe just happy to be with Sanemi when he was being nicer. But it grew stronger as days passed. Then Giyuu was allowed out, he was released back into the comfort of his own home. Yet he went back to Sanemi the following day, offering him some food as a thank you. They sat together and talked, drank tea and had some mochi. It was wonderful.

He managed to convince himself, at one point, that he was only coming to thank him for it. That it meant nothing. But it became clear, and he couldn't deny it anymore, when he stopped by the following days, found himself around Sanemi constantly, and... And his thoughts seemed to trail to Sanemi no matter what. Oh, look, a dog! Sanemi likes dogs. A cat? Sanemi never cared for cats. There's a snake in that pet shop! Obanai has a snake. Sanemi and Obanai are friends, right? Obanai is one of the few Sanemi actually gets along with. Hmm, maybe some tea would be good. Sanemi seemed to like tea—or at least have it often with ohagi.

No, yeah, no. Giyuu was in love.

Upon Sanemi's threats, Giyuu started taking more mind to himself. He tried to sleep at least a couple hours per day, tried to eat and drink more water, kept track of the time and his own body while training. He felt proud of himself for going through with Sanemi's words—then immediately felt childish for being proud. But he continued at it. Although if he hadn't, he probably would've been forced to by Shinobu or Sanemi in the first place.

Usually, on his missions, Giyuu managed to avoid any injuries worse than a scratch. Except he had gotten distracted this time. His distraction had caught himself off guard and, as he hurried to get back to the present, the demon had managed to slash his leg where the uniform wasn't protecting him. It wasn't a particularily strong demon, so it didn't do much harm, but blood still dampened his clothing. Giyuu killed the demon quickly and then stumbled out of the village he had been in, avoiding people. His calf stung and he winced as he walked.

He realized that the closest house he knew of that he could go to from here wasn't his own or the Butterfly Estate. Rather, it was Sanemi's. Figuring he could persuade Sanemi for, maybe, some bandages, he rushed over, ignoring the pain that stabbed his leg as he ran.

He knocked on the door. Luckily, dawn was approaching, so Sanemi was home. The door opened and Sanemi rolled his eyes upon seeing Giyuu injured. He grabbed Giyuu by the elbow and tugged him inside, closing the door behind him.

"Are you going to keep injuring yourself and running to me for help?" Sanemi asked with slight irritation, searching through his drawers for something.

Giyuu lifted a shoulder. "I didn't come to you the first time."

"Still." Sanemi turned, bandages and some cotton balls in hand. He knelt, having Giyuu sit on a chair, and rolled Giyuu's pant leg up, wiping the blood away then dabbing the cotton balls with something and cleaning the wound. He wrapped the bandages around it, tucked it in, then looked up. "Doesn't hurt bad, does it?"

Giyuu shook his head. "It's fine. The demon wasn't that strong. I just... got distracted."

Sanemi frowned. "So you're off forgetting you're also human and overworking yourself to half-death, then you're getting distracted and getting injured by a weak demon now?" he asked pointedly, a disappointed sigh leaving him.

"...when you put it like that," Giyuu mumbled.

"Why the fuck were you even distracted?" Sanemi asked, resting a hand on Giyuu's knee as he pulled himself up.

Giyuu hesitated. "I was... thinking."

"About?"

"...you?"

Sanemi paused. "What?"

"Sorry, nevermind, nothing," Giyuu said quickly, standing suddenly and nearly knocking Sanemi and the chair over.

"What the fuck do you mean, me?" Sanemi asked, stepping in front of Giyuu and stopping him from moving forward.

"No, I..." Giyuu shook his head. "Nothing."

"...Tomioka," Sanemi said.

Giyuu looked up.

"Tomioka, do you like me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"W...WHAT???" Giyuu asked, startled. He fell back onto the chair in his shock.

"God, why are you shouting now?" Sanemi said with a sigh.

"That was so random..." Giyuu mumbled.

"Yeah, well, you're acting like you like me. So either you clarify that you're not, or I'm going to keep you here until you tell me something worth hearing," Sanemi said, poising his hands on his hips.

Giyuu let out a breath. "I can't clarify something that's not true."

Sanemi cocked his head to the side. "What?"

"You told me to clarify that I didn't like you," Giyuu said quietly.

Sanemi took a moment to understand. "Oh. Oh, so you do?"

Giyuu nodded slowly, looking away. It couldn't hurt to tell him, right? He would probably just act as he had before he had helped him. Angry and annoyed at him.

And yet.

"Hm. That's unexpected," Sanemi admitted.

"Can I go now?" Giyuu asked.

Sanemi thought for a moment. "No."

"But I told you-"

"Yeah, shut up," Sanemi said with a huff. He glanced down at Giyuu's lap the promptly sat down, facing him.

Giyuu flushed and tried pushing Sanemi off for a half second, before his hands fell to his side and he looked up at Sanemi. "What're you...?"

"If you like me, then would you date me?" Sanemi asked curiously, ignoring his question.

Giyuu considered this. "Only if you liked me too."

"Then will you be my boyfriend?" Sanemi inquired, sounding so casual it took Giyuu a moment to understand the question.

"I... Wha- You- I said if you liked me, only," Giyuu stuttered, struggling to comprehend what exactly had happened.

"I do," Sanemi said.

"But... what? How? What?"

Sanemi rolled his eyes. "Do you want to be my boyfriend or do you want me to slap you?"

Giyuu grew quiet again. "Fine."

"Fine what? Because if you don't clarify, I'm going to assu-"

"We can date," Giyuu interrupted, averting his eyes. "If you want it too."

Sanemi smiled. "There. That wasn't so hard, was it?" Then, abruptly, he kissed him. It was fleeting, but it felt like an eternity of bliss, somehow, and Giyuu longed for it again when he pulled away.

Sanemi stood, moving back to give Giyuu room. "Alright, now go back home and take care of your leg. Don't keep injuring yourself and being idiotic."

Giyuu opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, unsure. He stood and walked to the door. Sanemi saw him out, watching him leave.

Then, once outside, Giyuu turned back and walked back to the door. "Can you kiss me again?" he asked tentatively.

Sanemi raised an eyebrow. "Want a good-bye kiss?"

Giyuu lifted a shoulder. "Is that bad?"

"Not at all." Sanemi leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Giyuu's lips, moving back a moment later. "Bye, Tomioka."

Giyuu lowered his head in a quick bow. "Thank you."

Sanemi's mouth curved in a smile. "See you later."

"'Later," Giyuu agreed, walking back home.

×××

« Word count: 2600 »

those oneshots where you like how it started and hate how it ended

smh I can never write something where I like the whole thing 😭

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