#does this make sense? i really hope it does.

[jarofstyles]

What about bf!harry gets hard in public and hes basically using you as a human shield and pulling you into his lap while subtly grinding into you🫣

This is a very fratrry thing to do once they get together tbh

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Warnings- exhibitionism, don’t do stuff like this in public plz, filthy talk

——-

“You don’t know what this fuckin’ dress does to me.” With lips mouthing at her neck, she had to take a deep breath as his handsy palms ran over her stomach and tugged her closer to him. The conversations continued around them but as usual, he only had eyes for her. The obsession becoming unglued as his breath left chills on her skin.

“I think I have some idea. It’s against my ass.” She muttered lowly, taking a sip of some sort of lemon drop concoction which- ugh. Whoever was bartending at this party really shouldn’t give up their day job. “You’re like a feral dog sometimes. Just running around grinding your dick into me.” Her voice was kept down but it was hard not to push back into the slow rocking. The guise was he was moving with the music, but those jeans did nothing to shield her from the feeling of the thick length against her ass.

“So try n’tame me then.” He would really like that. The man had been nearly begging her to go to his room but she’d promised her friends she wouldn’t disappear too quickly. Harry was demanding of her time since they’d gotten together, clingy and slightly annoying but she liked to make him work for it a little bit. For a man who had been slutting it around with whoever he wanted- his words, not hers though it did seem like something she’d said- it felt really nice to know she he liked her that much.

“You’d like it too much.” She sighed, tightening her grip on the red solo cup as teeth nipped over her throat. He was borderline obnoxious with the PDA, but Harry really had no sense of shame when it came to that. Her fingers made the cup crinkle, a betrayal from a longtime friend as it exposed just how much it actually got to her. “Can you behave? For one night?”

“Mmmm… nope.” He sighed against her skin. “M’gonna be annoying and hope you stop caring what other people want so you can come upstairs like you really want to do.” Thankfully he kept his voice down as his hand rubbed over her tummy, exhaling a sigh. “I can’t wait until I get you alone and I get t’bury myself in that tight little cunt. Nice n’snug for me, and I’ll make sure you can feel it in this cute belly.”

Harry knew he had a hold on her that she didn’t let a lot of people see, feeling her neck heat up against his lips as she said his voice in a low warning that she mean absolutely none of. “Harry. Stop it. People are around.”

“And that does nothing but get you to soak those panties. Is it the nasty little thong today? The one you left for me t’wrap around my dick when you went home for the weekend?” He hummed. “Got them nice and sticky. T’be honest, if you’d let me I’d take you over into the corner, nudge your dress up and fuck you just like this.” He kept his hands where they were but his cock rubbed over her ass, giving him some friction. She could feel it throb against her, the lump in her throat thick as he continued to talk. His filthy mouth never did know where or when to quit.

“If you’d let me I’d have you walkin’ upstairs with my load down your thighs. Or your cum all over my fingers. I’d give you anything you’d let me have, honestly. And if you think I can’t tell you’re clenching those incredible thighs together, that I don’t know you’re slick between them and probably makin’ a fucking sloppy messy on your skin, you should think again. I know how much you love when I touch you. Like to growl at me like a little kitten but your body can’t hide from me.”

Y/N couldn’t deny it even if she wanted to. Clenching her jaw she fought the flush working its way over her chest, heat flooding her body as he finally moved a hand from her stomach to turn her face so he could catch her lips.

The lack of shyness from the man had him kissing her deep, unashamed of the wolf whistles and groans from his friends as he kissed her like he owned her mouth. She was reminded of it as his tongue brushed against hers and his thick fingers held her chin in place so he could kiss her how he wanted. He did- god, he really fucking did.

“Get a room!”

Harry broke the kiss with a wicked grin. “Don’t mind if we do.”

#jarofstyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry writing #frat harry styles #frat boy harry #teenage dirtbag

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Cult of Love

pairing: cult leader!hyunjin x afab!reader

genre: smut

word count: 5.1k

warning/s: brain washing, dumbification, dom/sub dynamics, manipulation, loss of virginity, corruption, hyunjin calls reader 'pretty', 'my lamb' and 'good girl', choking, power play, pain kink, dacryphilia, overstimulation, breeding kink (wow lmk if i missed some)

a/n: this is just some dirty smut i had so much fun writing! hope you enjoy and if you did please reblog!🩷

~check out my: Masterlist♡

Being part of a big community that devotes all their time to serve only one person was not how you imagined you'd be living ever.

But here you are, after everyone in your life abandoned you, after everything stopped making sense, after everything you ever loved started hating you, after you almost fell off the edge.

He was the one who found you and the one who saved your lost, aching soul. A beacon of shining light, a man so beautiful that you weren't even sure he was real.

That was two years ago, when you were at your lowest, and now you are the happiest you've ever been in your entire life.

Your brain is re-wired only to know your leader, your god, Hyunjin. Only to obey his commands, heed by his word, worship him. And you are happy to do so, after all, he saved your life. He knows what's best for you, more than you do. He loves you, you know that anything he does to you and anything he makes you do he does so out of love.

That's what you were taught and what you believe. So, when you're finally invited to his huge tent, you couldn't be more excited.

One of his guards brought you a red rose the day before and you knew, as well as eveyone did, you are the next chosen one.

You can't sleep all night, wondering what's in store for you. What is your leader Hyunjin gonna ask of you, make you do? You really have no idea, but you're ready to do anything he says.

Come the morning, some of the other girls and boys helped you prepare. They've gotten commands to help you wash and shave, which made you feel a little bit nervous. With that you know you'll probably be naked in front of him at one point and you hope he likes what he sees.

You put on a beautiful white dress, one that Hyunjin sent for you through his guards. There's a flower crown on your head, courtesy of the girls and boys helping you get ready.

Your heart pounds in your chest and in your ears when the guards come to pick you up and lead you to your leader's tent. On the way there, people clap for you and congratulate you.

Briefly you wonder, where the other women and men disappeared to after being invited into his tent but you bury that thought in favor of happier thoughts. Like how you can serve your god.

As soon as you walk in with the guards, you don't dare to look up so you don't seem disrespectful.

"Leave us."- his sweet voice rings in your ears. The guards bow shortly and leave, leaving you alone with Hyunjin.

"Kneel, pretty."- he says and you do so, falling to your knees immediately, your eyes trained on the ground. Footsteps shuffle closer towards you and your heart jumps up into your throat.

"Look at me."- he says, his voice a little bit lower than before. You look up and are met with his godlike features that you missed seeing since he doesn't come out of his tent often. You're in awe every time you catch a glimpse of him, now even more when you're so close to him.

He places his finger on your chin, lifting it up a little. Your lips part as you continue looking at him. His finger slides slowly on your jaw down to your neck where he wraps his hand around you but doesn't squeeze.

Your eyes flutter at the action, hands folding behind your back in an act of submission towards your leader.

"Are you gonna be a good girl for me?"- he asks.

"Yes, yes I will."- you answer immediately.

"You will do what?"- he smirks.

"I will be a good girl for you."- you repeat his words.

"Good."- he says, unwrapping his fingers from you and leaning back. "I wonder why I haven't brought you here earlier. You're really pretty."- he adds, leaning down to look at you more closely.

His eyes are dark and deep and you find yourself drowning in them, feeling weak and submissive just from the way he looks at you.

"T-thank you, Sir."- your voice wavers.

"Hyunjin will suffice. I want to hear my name from those pretty lips."- he smirks again, running his thumb on your lower lip.

"Yes, Hyunjin."- saying his name like that feels blasphemous and you feel like you should be punished just for uttering it so easily. But he ordered you to call him by his name and that's what you're gonna do.

Hyunjin looms over you, his hands on your shoulders, slowly pushing the straps of your dress down. Your chest rises and falls together with your rapid breathing, his touch feels electric on your skin.

He keeps pushing your dress down until your ample breasts pop out for him to admire.

"So pretty."- he whispers, his fingers ghosting over your hardening nipple ever so slightly, teasing you.

Your breath catches in your throat, as he smiles at you.

"You've never been touched, right?"

"No, never."- you say, shaking your head innocently.

"That better be the truth, my lamb. You're mine to corrupt."- he smiles even wider and you shiver.

"It's the truth, Hyunjin."- you whisper his name, it still feels too holy to just roll of your tongue like that.

He smirks and starts undressing right in front of you, while you still kneel on the floor, breasts exposed. You can't believe he's doing that already, you feel like you haven't earned to look at his perfect body yet.

But there he is, in all his glory, his semi hard cock right in front of your face and your mouth waters, arousal pools between your legs.

"Worship my cock, pretty."- he's smirking at you, half-lidded eyes tracking your every breath, every twitch, every shiver.

"Yes, Hyunjin."- you whisper and lean in closer. Your hand comes up to the base of his cock, tongue poking out of your lips to give his head a few experimental licks.

He chuckles at you, his hand coming down to caress your head gently.

"You're like a little kitten."- he says condescendingly but to you anything he says is a compliment.

"Put your mouth around it."- he instructs and you do so, enveloping his head with your lips.

"Show me how good you want to be for me. Suck."- Hyunjin commands and you do just what he says. You start lightly sucking on his head, darting your tongue out to play with his slit experimentally and the most beautiful low grunt comes out of his mouth.

You're encouraged by that so you take more of him in your mouth, and his fingers entangle in your hair, holding you more tightly.

Pretty sounds keep coming out of his mouth as you take more and more of him, his cock growing harder in your wet mouth. You're proud of yourself, so proud that you're making your god feel this good, that your own arousal drips down your inner thigh. You press your legs together and Hyunjin notices.

You're too lost in the pleasure of pleasing him that you don't notice the smirk growing on his face, nor the hand that holds your head holding you even tighter now, but still careful of the pretty flower crown that adorns you. He grabs a fistful of your hair and without warning pushes his cock in deeper into you, his tip hitting the back of your throat, making you gag as tears gather in your eyes, saliva dripping down your chin.

"You gag so sweetly."- he smirks holding your head down and fucking your face lightly. Your heart starts beating faster as you fold your hands behind your back again letting Hyunjin use your face for his pleasure. Tears stream down your cheeks and you shut your eyes tight as he picks up speed. There's nothing you can do but try to breathe through your nose and let him have his way with you.

"Look at me!"- he orders, pulling on your hair and you whimper around him, sending vibrations through his cock as you open your eyes and try to look at him, vision blurred by your tears.

"I love seeing you like this. So pretty when you're ruined for me."- he says and you moan around him again.

"But we're just getting started, my lamb."- he pulls his cock out of your mouth abruptly and you cough a little, trying to regain your senses.

"Get up."- Hyunjin orders and you do so.

Hyunjin's hands are back on your dress as he slides it down your body. You've got nothing under it, just how he wanted you to come to him.

Suddenly, you feel self conscious, being naked like this in front of someone you considered your only god. Your hands fold over your body in an attempt to cover up.

"Are you trying to cover yourself up from me?"- Hyunjin asks, and you look at him, shivering under his gaze.

"I'm- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."- you swallow, letting your hands fall on your sides.

"It's okay my little lamb."- Hyunjin coos at you, hand coming up to cradle your cheek. "It's your first time, I know you're just being shy. But you don't have to be afraid, I know what you need. I know what's best for you."- he whispers the last sentence, as he comes closer to you.

"Yes, Hyunjin."- you repeat the same two words like you're under some kind of spell, mesmerized by his eyes, his lips, his touch.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, you know what's best for me."- you say as he leans in even closer, his breath on your lips.

The hand that was on your cheek is now holding the back of your neck, as his other hand slides down over your breast and side to your lower back. Hyunjin pulls you into his body and you feel how hot his skin is against yours. It makes your senses buzz as he presses his plump lips on yours.

He cradles your head with his big hand, tilting it back and holding you in place as he devours your lips with his. You moan against him, parting your mouth and allowing his tongue to slip in.

Your eyes roll back and you shut them tightly as he pushes his tongue as deep as he can and starts exploring your mouth, tasting you and making sure you never forget the taste of him.

You're not sure if you're allowed to touch him so you keep your hands on your sides, fingertips digging into your own hips because you need to hold on to something. Hyunjin's stealing away your breath with his kiss, you feel dizzy, like you're floating. He finally releases you when he's almost out of breath and you gasp as he looks at you wildly, biting on his lower lip.

"Want you on the bed. Now."- he growls and you almost trip over the carpet in an attempt to lay down as fast as you can.

"Easy, pretty. Don't damage my goods."- Hyunjin smirks as he grabs onto your arm and steadies you.

"I'm sorry, Hyunjin."

"Just lay down."- he orders a little more gently, trying to soothe you and also calm himself down. He's not one to yell or hurt his object of affection unless it's punishment and it's absolutely needed. And he doesn't want to scare you, not with how unhinged he gets when he's turned on.

You lay down as he instructed you, his bed is comfortable and the sheets seem to be made of satin or something similar. You've never touched something as soft as that fabric and it soothes your fast-beating heart just a little.

"Show me that sweet pussy, my lamb."- Hyunjin wastes no time as he sits on the bed.

You gasp a little, taken aback by the command but you obey nonetheless, spreading your legs as wide as you can to show Hyunjin what belongs to him.

He bites his lip, hands on your thighs as he leans in closer between your legs.

"Beautiful."- he says, eyeing it and you feel so vunerable and exposed, even a little humiliated but you try to remind yourself it's your leader Hyunjin, you're his and your body is his, and he has the right to look at you however he wants.

"It looks like a pretty rose."- he adds, smirking and you swallow, you heart almost leaping out of your chest as arousal gushes out of you.

"T-thank you, Hyunjin."- you say quietly, lips trembling in anticipation.

Hyunjin leans in even closer, breath fanning over your wetness and your pussy clenches around nothing. He smirks, he's teasing you and he knows he can do that as long as he wants and you don't get to say no or protest it, you just have to take it.

You wouldn't dare go against him, you believe in him too much to do something bad.

So you keep still as his finger makes contact with your clit. He circles it a little, before sliding it down over your folds, teasingly dipping the pad of his finger inside your dripping hole.

You breathe deeply, trying to calm your racing heart and you feel an ache in your pelvis, an ache telling you to move and chase his fingers, beg for more, anything he'll give you. But you know better than that.

Hyunjin gathers some of your wetness with his fingers and brings them to your lips.

"Taste yourself."- he says and you put your tongue out and start licking at his fingers, eyes never leaving his. He looks at you as if he's going to devour you and you wouldn't mind if he did.

He moves his hand away from your lips and leans down. You think he'll kiss your lips so you close your eyes and wait for him but then you feel his tongue on your nipple.

"Ah!"- you moan as your eyes snap open and you look at him. Hyunjin smirks, his tongue playing with your nipple, moving it up and down, left and right. You're already shaking, so sensitive as you've never been touched like this before.

Hyunjin puts his hand on your other breast, giving it a squeeze before pinching your nipple. He grips your breast again as he takes your nipple in his mouth and starts sucking.

The sight and the feeling together is too much so you shut your eyes tightly, head falling back as you start whimpering and arching into him.

A shot of pain runs through you and your eyes open, only for your mind to register that Hyunjin bit on your nipple.

"Don't look away from me."- he grins, tongue darting out to lick at your tender nipple.

"I'm s-sorry."- you whimper, body twitching under him.

He moves to your other breast, giving it equal attention and when you think he's done, he's not. He just keeps playing with your nipples until they're swollen and tender and you can't take anymore. Silent tears run down your cheeks as you whimper. Hyunjin releases your nipple from his lips and comes up closer to your face.

"Why are you crying, my lamb?"- he asks, knuckles brushing gently on your cheek.

"It hurts."- you whisper, another tear threatening to fall down but Hyunjin wipes it off.

"I promise it'll feel good, pretty. You know I love you, hm? You trust me, don't you?"- he coos at you again, caressing your face and you can't help feeling small when he talks to you like that. Feeling like, to thank him you need to submit to him, be good for him, do what he orders, trust everything he says.

"I trust you, Hyunjin. I would never dream of doubting my leader."- you say.

"Good girl."- he grins. "Now, keep watching me."- Hyunjin whispers as he leans down between your legs, his face close to where you need him the most.

He teases you with kisses to your inner thigh, all the way towards your core, still avoiding it and pressing kisses all around it. You shiver, keeping your eyes on his every move as he commanded you. He looks back at you, eyes unwavering as he presses a kiss to your clit.

You bite on your lip and stay still while Hyunjin starts playing with your clit, giving it teasing kisses and little licks at first before he wraps his lips around it and starts sucking and licking faster. Your legs tremble and you accidentally moan too loudly, arm coming up so you can bite on it.

"Don't do that, pretty. Let me hear your pleasure."- Hyunjin immediately grabs your arm and moves it away from your lips.

"I'm sorry, Hyunjin."- your lips tremble, eyes watering a little. You don't want to keep making mistakes like that and look dumb in front of Hyunjin, you want to be good for him and worthy of his love.

"Hey, hey, don't apologize. You're still learning, my little lamb. Just let me guide you, okay?"- he soothes you with his sweet voice, hands gently caressing your thighs.

"Yes, Hyunjin."- you chant again, determined to follow every command, obey every order he gives you.

Hyunjin leans back down between your legs, this time his tongue slides between your folds.

You gasp at the action, hands gripping the pretty satin sheets under you. Hyunjin smirks as he grips your ass, thumbs on either sides of your core, slowly pulling you apart, opening you up for him.

You whimper, pussy clenching around nothing again and he looks up at you, eyes dark and full of lust.

"Such a sweet pussy. Desperate to be stuffed, hm?"- he asks but gives you no time to answer as he dives in, pushing his tongue inside you as deep as he can.

You're moaning and whining, your legs trembling, knuckles turning white where you grip at the sheets. Nothing ever felt as good as this in your life, Hyunjin is pleasing you so well, swallowing all your juices.

You almost feel too ashamed that you have your god do something like that to you, but that makes you feel even more determined to please him too and give him whatever he asks of you.

Hyunjin is relentless, his tongue is never tiring, even when your moans grow higher in pitch and you feel something swirl in your stomach. It travels down as you keep shaking, legs almost closing around Hyunjin's head and he fucks your pussy with his tongue even faster and you can't hold it in anymore.

"P-please!"- you beg, you don't even know what for but Hyunjin doesn't stop or slow down, and you let go as you moan his name repeatedly, your juices painting his tongue, lips and chin.

"You did so well, my lamb."- he says, a little breathless.

"T-thank you. Hyunjin."- you whimper as he dives back in to play with your clit, flicking it with his tongue fast, teeth grazing at it and you mewl, legs falling open again.

It's a lot, almost too much, but you want to take it, you want him to keep playing with you as long as he wants. Your legs are shaking as he keeps making out with your pussy and you explode on his face again. And then again. And again until you've lost count.

Tears keep streaming down your cheek and you don't even register Hyunjin's face in front of yours until he gently wipes your tears away.

"H-Hyunjin."- you cry out.

"Shh. It's okay, my lamb. You're doing so good for me."- he praises you, fingers running up and down your soaking wet pussy, tortured after all the orgasms he ripped from you.

"I want to be- be good for you."- you whimper as he dips his fingertips into you.

"You do?"- he smirks sickly at you and you nod fervently.

"Then you can take two fingers immediately."- he says and slowly starts pushing into you.

You moan, your back arching instinctively as you grab at the sheets again. Hyunjin's fingers are slender but long and you feel the shape of his knuckles as he pushes them in deep, all the way to the ring that adorns his finger, the coldness of it making you shiver.

He starts moving them slowly as your lips fall open into a silent moan and you stare into his eyes, completely mesmerized by him.

"Feels good, pretty?"- Hyunjin asks. The orgasms you had before helped open you up and lubricate you so you weren't in any pain as he keeps stretching you slowly.

"So good, Hyunjin."- you whimper, your eyes fluttering but staying open. You don't want to accidentally shut them or look away from your leader.

He starts moving them faster as he comes closer to you, peppering your face in kisses, catching your tears with his lips. He kisses your eyelids, your nose, the corners of your lips while he keeps plunging his fingers faster and harder into you.

The contrast of his gentle kisses and the way his fingers are abusing your pussy make you feel incredibly hot. Your mind and body buzzes, you don't know anything but Hyunjin in that moment and you feel a pressure build up, a pressure you've never felt before.

"Let go."- Hyunjin orders when he sees you struggling. And you obey, you let go and squirt all over the bed and his hand just as he pulls his fingers out of you.

"Fuck. That's my good girl."- he smirks and pushes his fingers into you abruptly again.

"Ah!"- you almost scream out as he starts fucking you fast again, your pussy screaming with overstimulation. You want to close your legs, beg him to stop but at the same time you never want him to stop.

"You can take one more finger, right my lamb?"- Hyunjin hovers over you. You look up at him with your hooded and wet eyes and nod.

"Words, pretty."- he warns you, his free hand coming up around your throat.

"Yes, I can take it! Please!"- you cry out, spreading your legs even more.

Hyunjin pulls his fingers out and then pushes three of them back in and the stretch has your eyes rolling back. You seek to ground yourself somehow so you grab his bicep, the one that belongs to the hand holding your neck and he squeezes a little.

"H-h-Hyunjin..."- you whimper as Hyunjin fucks you with such force that it has your whole body rocking together with the bed.

"Tell me pretty..."- he smirks. "Do you want my cock inside you?"

Your mind is gone, all you know is Hyunjin and the need to submit to him completely, to give into him even if he kills you.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes please! Yes!"- you keep chanting as your pussy clenches around his fingers, the squelching sound of your wetness so sinful.

"Squirt for me again and I'll think about it."- he smiles crazy at you but to you he looks beautiful and perfect and you have to obey him. So you let go and squirt again, even more than you did before, your heart beating so fast you're scared it'll actually leap out of your chest.

"Fuck!"- Hyunjin looks crazed, hand coming down to slap your pussy. You whine loudly in pain and surprise, feeling so sensitive after everything he did to you. "I need to breed this sweet pussy now. You want that, hm?"

"Yes, I do!"- you whine again as he grabs his cock, sliding his hard tip on your pussy, pressing it into your clit.

"Beg for it!"- he grabs at your neck again, the tip of his cock between your folds, slowly opening you up.

"Please breed me, Hyunjin!"- you beg, and his eyes roll back before he looks at you wildly and starts pushing in.

Your pussy opens up like a flower to take him, you're so tight and warm, so pliant for him like you were made just for this.

His hand squeezes around your neck as he keeps stretching you with his cock, and you feel a sudden rush of fear with your air being cut off like that, the little sting between your legs, the question if you'll even be able to take all of him.

Your nails dig into his arm and he looks at you so darkly, like he's in a trance and you shiver as the tip of his cock pushes up to your cervix.

"Trust me my little lamb. I'd never hurt you."- he squeezes more and you almost start panicking as little spots appear in front of your eyes.

But you trust him and he starts moving slowly and then he finally releases your neck. You gasp for air, your head is spinning as Hyunjin almost pulls out only for him to push back into you forcefully, knocking the breath out of you again.

"H-Hyunjin! I-it hurts!"- you whimper, tears gathering in your eyes again as he pounds into you.

"It'll feel better. Don't worry, pretty."- he whispers and captures your lips in his, shutting you up.

His tongue forces your lips open, exploring your mouth again, his hands have a bruising hold on your hips.

"Unless you want me to stop completely."- he smirks as he suddenly moves away from you.

"N-no, please don't stop!"- you beg, desperate for him. You want him closer to you, as close as it's possible and you ignore the fear bubbling inside you with the way he's looking at you.

"No? You want me to fuck this tight pussy until she can't take anymore, hm?"- he grins, pressing his fingers on your swollen clit and flicking them in time with his thrusts.

"Yes, please Hyunjin! Please!"- you grab at his arm again and he chuckles darkly, speeding up as his hips slap into you so hard that the bed starts rattling. His cock is ripping you apart but all the pain you felt turns into pleasure, and you can't contain your moans nor keep your eyes opened.

Hyunjin enjoys the view of you spread completely open for him, your hair like a halo around your head, the pretty flower crown ruined, leaving some of the flowers stuck in your hair, tears sliding down your cheeks, your pretty lips parted. He enjoys the power he holds over you, how pliant you are for him, how you'd do anything he asks of you. You just might be his favorite, he thinks as he grips your hips harder, his nails digging into your flesh.

Your eyes snap open and meet with his, there's something animalistic in them and fear runs through you again making your pussy clench around him.

"Are you gonna come for me again, pretty?"- he smirks.

"Y-yeah... I'm... I-" - you can't even form a coherent sentence, not with the way he's fucking you, his hands now roaming all over your body, one of them coming up to wrap around your neck again.

"Can you even talk?"- he chuckles as you lean into his hand, ready to let him choke you to death if that's what he wants.

"Ah!"- you moan when he hits that sweet spot inside you.

"Going a little dumb on my cock, aren't you my lamb?"- he growls as he fucks into you harder, his tip hitting your sweet spot repeatedly, driving you insane until you explode all over his cock.

"Mm yes!"- you answer him, your ears ringing and your whole body tense.

"Gonna breed you now."- Hyunjin squeezes your neck, your air cut off again as his hips pound into you. Your lips fall open, eyes wide as you stare at his dark ones, filled with lust and something else lurking behind it.

His hand is bruising on your neck and you panic, feeling like you're slipping away even though the way his cock is ravaging you makes you come on him again and that's the last straw Hyunjin needed before his cock twitches inside you and he paints your walls with his warm come.

He finally releases your neck, you cough and gasp, grabbing at it, your whole body shaking as your wide eyes stare up at Hyunjin.

"You took that so well, my little lamb."- he says as he pulls out, leaving you feeling empty.

"T-thank you."- you voice is hoarse and you almost don't recognize it. Hyunjin reaches to touch your face and you flinch for some reason, which makes him frown.

"Are you afraid of me, pretty?"- he asks, his face serious and seemingly devoid of any emotions. You swallow and lean your face towards his hand.

"No, I'm not."- you say, trying to convince him and yourself even though your heart is beating fast.

"Why did you flinch?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. It wont happen again."

"It better not. I told you I would never hurt you. Only if you misbehave, then I have to punish you. But you know that everything I do is for your good, right lamb?"- Hyunjin smirks again, caressing your cheek.

"Yes, I know Hyunjin."- you nod.

"Good. Because I'm going to keep you here. You will serve me every day from now on. You will be my wife and bear my children."- he grins, getting up from the bed.

"Really?!"- you ask as you sit up, excited that you out of all people were chosen to serve Hyunjin, to become his wife and give him children.

"Yes. Are you happy about that?"- he hovers over you, hand holding your chin.

"Very happy. And honored."- you nod fervently.

"My little lamb. You know I love you, right?"- Hyunjin asks and there's something gentle shining in his dark eyes.

"Yes, I... I love you too, Hyunjin."- you answer, your lips trembling.

"I know you do."- he smirks again, caressing your head. "Go to sleep now. I have some things to take care of."

"You're not gonna sleep with me?"- you whimper, eyes already watering at the thought of not being next to your leader and soon-to-be husband.

"I'll join you later, my pretty. Don't be sad."- he coos, laying you down and tucking you in.

"Okay."- you say, your eyes closing. After all, you were beyond exhausted and it didn't take long for you to slip away into dreamland.

Hyunjin stands over you for a few moments, eyes scanning your sleeping face, dried tears on your cheeks, lips swollen from kisses and bruises around your neck.

He grins, you're so obedient and innocent, so eager to please him. Everyone else disobeyed him and questioned him but not you. You are so sweet, so good for him. He's going to have so much fun with you and he can't wait to show you just how dark he can be.

#skz x reader #skz smut #stray kids #stray kids x reader #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin #stray kids smut #skz hard thoughts #skz hard hours #stray kids scenarios #hwang hyunjin smut

[hoseoksluna]

CHERRIES | jhs ft. jjk

pairing: soon-to-be-boyfriend!hobi x oc (feat. ex-boyfriend!jk)

genre: heavy, heavy, obnoxious smut

word count: 12.7k

summary: you don't know how he does it, but hobi makes you forget about the life you led before him, using his tongue.

playlist: hobi's playlist ; hobi's the weeknd playlist 

pinterest board: cherries / taglist: join

warnings: oh my god—dd/lg but differently, businessman!hobi, dominant and emotional and fucking possessive hobi, oc is horny... a lot, praise kink, breeding kink sdflhldghfdklaxjkfghskfg, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, female and male masturbation, use of a sex toy, cum eating, ass eating, religious personification, mentions of anal sex, thigh and ass slapping fuck

note: my babies, i'm so happy to be posting PART TWO OF BERRIES for you, oh my god. i had the time of my LIFE writing this, had to take breaks every 20 mins, was horny beyond my fucking mind BECAUSE THE SMUT IN THIS? FUCK. THIS IS PURE FILTH. 12K WORDS OF FILTHY HOBI SMUT. IM DEAD. HAVE BEEN DEAD. i missed writing so much that i spewed this out in 3 days... literally how? but i'm so happy to be back. i hope you enjoy this part. make sure to let me know what you think! i'm in a severe (hehe) need of your feedback. I LOVE YOU, MY BABIES. MWAH.

side note: this part has the entirety of my being in it. from the first word to the last. it means a lot to me. very special chapter! <3

By the time you come out of the art museum, it’s storming. A sound so cacophonous that it spreads dots of gooseflesh along the perimeter of your skin underneath your silk dress and the layer of your heavy trench coat. Loud and violent like your heart’s deep drum that stills once you see Hoseok leaning against his glossy car. Arms and legs crossed in the same fashion, clothed in the coupled shade of blackness, a mop of tousled hair swept back and rippling in the unforgiving wind that flushes his cheeks with its rosy coldness and then clouds pull in, darkening his stare fixed on you. 

A shower of sudden rain finishes its touch on his countenance. 

Eye contact broken, Hobi’s shoulders raise as he feels the iciness of the slender raindrops falling upon him, eyes flicked up to the shadowed heavens. A heartstring of yours snaps and you don’t really know who gave the command to your aching legs to run towards him with your coat suspended over your head—whether it was that weakened heart of yours or basic human decency. Emotion versus logic. 

You find soon enough the verdict of the winner. 

Because when you have to stand on your tippy toes to cover him from the rain, despite the fact you’re wearing your high-heeled boots, and Hobi takes the makeshift shield from your hands and shrouds you both from the wetness, an identical flush crawls from your left cheek, upon the column of your nose right next to your other cheek, warming you up from within. 

Emotion. The string that ruptured grows again to its full length during that fleeting moment and you’re aching to take him home. 

No rain in sight—just him in this close proximity, in this gray cocoon, smiling down at you lopsidedly, a dimmed light flickering in his inky pools, faintly, barely, only there for you to see. To catch and cling to like his patchouli scent does to you, a whiff of dainty wildflowers leaning in and enclosing around you, forcing away the thoughts that are erect in the corners of your mind, waiting for the adequate moment to strike. Thoughts of how you sense Jungkook’s life entwining around your world again; his companion perfuming the air with petrichor, the inner turmoil she must be facing the very strength that pulled those clouds in, causing a storm to stretch across the skies. You figure each beat of her confused heart must be the grumble of the thunder, but then Hobi’s outer film of softness amidst the darkness is a force way greater, because firmness broods right underneath it, and it is an energy that keeps those thoughts pressed against the walls of your mind.

He did turn you into a locked orchard—and the threat of another declared war isn’t even a wind that brushes past your fruit trees and berry bushes. 

In fact, the more you deepen your exchange of gazes and Hobi cages you in between his shirt-clothed elbows, the more you want to show him the stain of your juices upon your panties. 

You’re aroused—blooming, in need to be picked. It outweighs the past and you’re glad for it, deem your newly born sexuality more important than the doomed normalcy of your life. 

You sink your manicured nails into that newness, adamant on not letting it go, regretting that you agreed to see your ex-boyfriend later tonight, regretting that you grew soft at the hint of his own normalcy, even though you said to yourself that you wouldn’t. It’s one of the reasons why you dig your nails deeper, maximizing your closeness to Hobi—it’s done in an effort to erase your foolish moment of weakness, to better yourself like you encouraged yourself to do earlier when you had perceived that you misinterpreted him. You curl your lips under your teeth to stifle back a sigh, wishing you were as firm as him, as stable in your decisions and your way of living as him. Wishing your weakness wasn’t a putty you play with, leave your fingerprints of your bad decisions on that blemish until you hate yourself, until the paste hardens and there’s nothing left for you to do but to watch it. Watch the evidence of your failure, your brokenness and your imbecility like still life—the curse, the doom of your life, haunting you. 

It almost slinks in, threatening yet again to desiccate your orchard, the movement akin to a wave rolling in, but then Hobi speaks. And his voice sears those thoughts to nothing. Not even their shadows are left behind. 

“Did you say hi to your friend?” he murmurs, reaching behind him to open the door of the passenger side for you, the coat that’s propped on his forearm lowering until it rests back around your shoulders. 

You can merely nod, your empty mind focused on the absence of your selfishness—for once again, you want to be close to him for his sake, even more so when Hobi places his palm on the top edge of his car so you don’t hurt your head. 

A prince, an orchardist, and a gentleman. 

You’re feeding him and sucking his dick before he goes to work—you don’t care. Hope to God he fucks your brain out of your head and plants a new one; one that isn’t so stupid. 

Seated inside his car, you glimpse profoundly at the way the rain kisses the crown of his head as he rounds his vehicle, sitting right beside you and carrying inside his heavenly skin fragrance, now accentuated by the residue of petrichor that all of a sudden doesn’t have anything to do with what you just bore. No hints, no thoughts, no wars. How he does it is something you’ll never have the capability of understanding—a fracture of attention of the intimate kind and he binds you to him, erasing your still fresh past as if it never happened. 

You flex and relax your hand on your lap, a gesture that depicts that you cherish it to the point that you yearn to submit to it and remain submitted. And you will. You’ll figure out a way to stay stable, even if events appear to try and revolutionize you. A way to keep your fist clenched in his presence. 

Hobi lets the car warm up a little bit before he turns on the heating, angling his rear view mirror just right, from which two purple, plush dice swing back and forth, colliding once and never meeting again. 

How inspiring. 

And then you watch his hands. Watch them dominate the car, spur it to life as he drives through the drenched street, parting the rain like a curtain, stepping in, taking you home. 

As if he sensed your thoughts, he glances at you. “My place or yours?” 

A red light halts his control and Hobi uses it to tap on the screen of his dashboard, dousing the space in a sultry, wet ambiance as slow, calm music breaks the silence. While it was comfortable for you, now you feel even more at ease and you wiggle in your seat, sinking deeper into the leather. 

Quite useful material for the lecherous saturation of your mind; for the lustful layer of sweat lining your skin. You feel so hot. Feel the need to be ridded of your clothes right now. Feel a certain kind of vivacity that drives you to do things you wouldn’t normally do. 

You take his hand from the shift stick, cradling it with both of your own hands, a finger tracing the veins that paint a slender but a strong temple—a temple for his beauty and character, you suspect. 

“My place,” you say, yearning to make him feel at home in your space; cook for him, make him come, stuff like that.

Green light blinks and Hobi doesn’t withdraw from your hold. No, he tells you what to do, quickly. 

“Keep your hand on mine,” he instructs and you listen, sinking your fingers between his and gripping him like in an effort to grip onto stable submission. “Just like that.” 

Your stomach flips at his choice of praise and you lick your lips, tightening your hold hard enough that he peeks at you with a smirk while he shifts the gear stick with you and speeds down the road. The heat worsens and you don’t think you can take it anymore.

That alone is the most attractive thing you ever experienced with a man. 

And when he plays with your thumb, you can’t help but to squeeze your thighs together. Watch him intently sneak a glance as you do so, knowing your dress has ridden up a little, exposing your tanned thighs, swathed with the brown leather of your boots. Your position also provides him the intriguing reveal of a secret—you’re wearing knee socks underneath. They were invisible to his sight this whole time and now that he sees them, his eyes linger there for a few seconds longer before he drags his teeth along his bottom lip, flicking his gaze back to the road. 

“You’re wearing knee socks under those?” he asks, his voice low and tortured. Doesn’t look at you as he does. Only shifts the gear stick again, stiffly. You imagine something else is stiff, too, and you smile, a tendril of confidence clothing you in allure and sinful, dark joy. It beckons your vivacity to drive forward. 

You move his hand to let the pads of his fingers feel the smooth fabric. His body twitches, his lungs inhaling a short, soft air, mouth parted, eyes unblinking, gloomy just like the heavens above. A thunder sounds and you feel like roaring just the same. 

“It matches my underwear,” you murmur and the thunder prolongs, echoing feebly. You drag his hand down your thigh with the intention to also make him feel the nylon material of your panties, but he halts your movement halfway, hand gripping your flesh, trembling ever so slightly, stirring your confidence. You almost moan at his brusqueness. 

“Don’t,” he scolds, brows furrowing, chest heaving in that slow manner. His lips dry and he wets them. Doesn’t spare you a glance. Turns the wheel with that one hand as he takes a left turn, his posture slouched, thighs spread, a small tent evident in between. His arousal for you grows and it only propels you to finish the job, knowing his scolding was merely a warning, not a portrayal of his discomfort. And he proves you right with his next words. “If you do that, I’ll crash this fucking car.” 

You laugh through your nose, your confidence and your own arousal fluttering in you, begging to be let out. Your favorite artist starts playing and you’re not surprised by the way your body reacts. Your thighs naturally spread and you move your pelvis forward. Feel your slick dampening your panties even more, trickling down your needy seashell just as The Weeknd begins to sing about your desire. 

“I wanna fuck you slow with the lights on…” 

You lick your lips, inhaling deeply and exhaling with a soft moan. Hobi digs his fingernails into your skin, coaxing another one out of you and he calls you by your name in a sterner warning. You caress the edge of his hand with the thought in mind that you’ve always loved the crescent moon, so it would only be illogical for you to not want more of it imprinted on your skin. 

“You shouldn’t praise me then,” you croak out, doused in adrenaline-tinged lust, your sweat heavy upon you. You clutch your cherub necklace, needing to be touched, a habit of yours that you’ve had ever since you were a teenage girl. Your fingers graze your collarbones, lingering in the dip between them. “Besides, you’re such a good driver that I think you can handle it.” 

Hobi hums out an endearing laugh, that smirk of his reappearing on his mouth. He rubs the moons he impressed into your thigh from side to side and your hips buck, asking for that movement down low where you need him the most. 

“You have a praise kink?” he questions and you catch him bite his lip, catch him enjoying that information, sinking it into his flesh. You want to kiss it, bruise it, make it permanent for a little while. You revel in such a dirty, yet gentle conversation and you stop yourself from bucking your hips again. 

“A severe praise kink,” you correct him, emphasizing the adjective with a bit of a bratty tone to divulge to him what he does to you and how much he needs to pay for it. And before you can go on, he catches you off guard. 

“If you want me to keep praising you then rub your clit,” he negotiates with you, taking your hand and moving the gear stick, leaving it there. “And you’re wrong. I can’t handle you like this. I can’t touch you when I’m responsible for your life.” 

Daddy. The title would’ve slipped out of the tip of your tongue had a moan not been first, coating the ambience with a sultriness that makes you tug at his hand in order to do as he says, in order to be praised, to be gratified. But Hobi doesn’t budge. He tightens his grip around the shift stick, clicking his tongue. 

“No, baby. With your other hand,” he orders, his breath shaking and amidst the enveloping of his fatherliness around you, strengthening you and binding you with ropes of safety, girlishness and seductiveness, you scrunch up your brows, wanting his hand to be there when you make yourself feel good. 

And you tell him. 

“I want you to help me.” 

The rain thickens, creating a sensual background noise to the next slow song playing and Hobi sighs, disliking your attitude. Your arousal grows to highs you’ve never seen before, a sweet, pleasing darkness consuming you, sprinkling you with glitters of appetite and craze. 

All because your sexual chemistry is so good, so strong—so natural, despite the fact you just met and don’t know each other enough for it to be possible. It exceeds the laws of human connection and the feeling of it is heady, intoxicating you with wine of the ripest cherries. You even feel as though this is your first alcoholic drink. Feel as though you’re an unspoiled virgin on the cusp of her very first sin—the Virgin Mary with long hair, cherub necklace, tanned skin, knee socks and high-heeled boots. 

Hobi erases your past life. Paints a new one with watercolors; paints you anew. You know the dulcet taste of fatherliness and manliness from Jungkook and while it was what you needed at the time, sexually that is—as it wasn’t often that he used this kind of energy day-to-day, and if he did, it was to tease you—what Hobi does runs deeper. It surpasses your need; it’s not a filling that will decompose soon enough and ask for it again. It’s something else entirely. 

It’s something that falls upon you and stays. Clicks and connects with no way out. It’s another layer of skin, strands of hair growing out of your scalp, the drum of the vein upon your neck. 

It began in the museum and uncoils here. It’s not worth it to juxtapose it with what you had before—it’s laughable to do so. Hobi has established his fatherliness the moment he held your coat as a heathen in a church, not taking his gaze off of your intimate prayers for even a split second. Unkinked it with his honesty and by expressing his responsibility over you, listening to the murmur of the sea of your sexual need but not diving head-first into it, knowing better. And now it is ready to bloom with flowerets, with fruits, with leaves to accompany you. 

“It’s this or nothing,” Hobi decides, squeezing his fingers against yours to also emphasize the gravity of his words and you purse your lips in response, finding the ultimatum so attractive. “You live thirty minutes away, so you either rub your clit on your own or you wait. It’s up to you.” 

It’s mind blowing to you how he went from being timid to now ordering you to pleasure yourself. You’re sweltering beneath your clothes and Hobi notices, looking at your body through his rear view mirror. He turns the heating up and you laugh, blush deepening, eyes crinkling at the corners. Your heart thuds heavily in your chest. 

“Why didn’t you put your seatbelt on?” he mutters, letting go of your hand and giving you a mean look that makes your walls clench and your throat let out a low, almost soundless moan. 

You never put a seatbelt on. As dangerous as it, you hate the way it chokes you due to your small stature and you tell him. “It chokes me, Hobi, I don’t really like it.” 

Hobi doesn’t respond. He reaches over and drags down the seatbelt adjuster without taking his eyes off of the road, driving steadily. His patchouli scent hits your nostrils and you nuzzle your nose into his bicep, fingers curling around his arm, smelling him in a simple, comfortable manner. Hobi gives you a quick smile and you hear the sound of him pulling on the seatbelt, but then a pedestrian runs across the previously empty crosswalk, forcing him to stomp on the brake abruptly and your heart nearly skips out of your chest. Almost flying forward, Hobi holds you in place with his strong arm, which you cradle against your quickening chest. 

Exchanging a look, you both pant in tandem and Hobi shakes his head at you. Panic lines his dark eyelashes and he immediately grabs the seatbelt and, tugging harshly, he sinks it into the buckle, placing the belt behind your back. He doesn’t acknowledge the pedestrian lifting his palm in apology and neither do you, too preoccupied with the fact he just saved your life. 

“You wear a seatbelt in my car. No buts. Understand?” 

Too shocked by the twist of events and too touched by the gesture and the sternness of his words, you nod. He pats your thigh, the one he marked, fondling the skin with his thumb, and it drives you to say something. “I’m sorry, Hobi. I’ll wear the seatbelt from now on.” 

You mean it. This has never happened to you before as you usually take the public transport, but you do understand now how dangerous it is to not wear one. Your heartbeat calms and the aftershocks of the adrenaline come to the surface, scattering along your figure. Numbness melts and your arousal returns at full speed. 

Hobi nods, smiling gently, pleased with your apology, and you feel so peculiarly gratified that you managed to do something like that to him. He sinks his fingers under your thigh and you marvel at the size of his hand because his thumb still remains there on the top of the flesh, even as he wraps his digits around you like that. Kneading just once before he lifts them and begins to tap on his screen again, shifting the energy with the voice of your favorite artist. He moves the gear, accelerating. 

“Why you rushing me, baby? It’s only us, alone,” The Weeknd sings and you sigh, your body loosening up. You hike the seatbelt around your hips higher, curling lower on the leather, thighs parting until your knee taps his hand. You miss his touch and you long for it again, finding its warm ghost on your skin not enough. 

“You like The Weeknd, don’t you?” Hobi says, his pinky finger brushing along your sock-clad knee, causing you to almost twitch. 

You smile, relishing in the love you have for the singer. “I’ve spent ten years of my life loving him.” 

Liking your answer, Hobi skims his fingers along the side of your inner thigh until he finds yours, intertwining them—this time his palm closed over the back of your hand, placing it to its former position on the stick. It’s warmed by him and you love it so much that you search for his thumb, playing with it. 

“I could tell,” he breathes, his tone deepened by a heartfelt emotion that moves through you. You raise your brows in curiosity and question, wondering how that has come to be. Glancing at you to see your reaction, Hobi laughs softly, his heart evident in the sound, coated with it entirely, and you catch his thumb, holding it, on the verge of bursting. “I saw what you did when I put him on.” 

You round the tip of your tongue along your top lip, recollecting well what you did when you heard him. “What did I do?” 

A beat of silence between you and him, he lets the singer sing his elegy. Then, his index finger traces your manicured nail on the same digit. “You spread your legs. Made such a pretty sound that I almost stopped this fucking car and fucked you until the whole city could heard it.” 

Your breath hitches in your throat and you’re too late to halt the moan from slipping out, a fire coursing down from the top of your head to your toes. You want a taste of his desire so bad that you’ll do anything for it. Even let the seatbelt choke you to death. 

Hobi gives you a look, one that chills your blood this time. But it feels absolutely exhilarating.

He calls your name. “Don’t do that to me. Not here.” 

Your breath trembles as you scurry to regain your composure, sliding up in your seat. Hobi, too, stops that movement by cradling your thigh, putting it back to the stick once you get the message. 

Why does this feel better than if he gave in? 

“What if I want to?” you challenge and Hobi rubs his eyes, slapping his hand back onto the steering wheel. Frustration, it looks so good on him. “What if I want you to fuck me here?” 

He shakes his head, just once, biting his lip, reddening the pillow. “No, I don’t share.” 

Fuck. 

This is a point of no return. You will never be the same after what he said and you feel your attachment melting into his chest, dissolving there into leaves from your fruit trees. Your imaginary wings flit, aroused from his possessiveness. 

“You know what to do,” he adds without looking at you, turning up the volume as if to subdue your incoming moans. 

A cherry on the top of the fucking cake. 

You don’t waste a precious second. Lifting the hem of your dress, you expose your drenched panties, a large wet spot in the center darkening the black fabric. Hobi doesn’t spare you a glance. No, he takes your intertwined hands and fixes his rear view mirror, tipping it down. Dangerous, but smart. Responsible. 

It’s those glimmering flecks of his character that drive your fingers to pull your panties to the side, but Hobi, once again, stops you. 

With words, this time. 

“Do you want me to die?” he rasps, tortured—horribly tortured and you cup your femininity, coaxing a groan out of him. “Do it over your panties, baby. Please.” 

He begged. You don’t think you ever heard that word come out of a man’s mouth in your life and you break, whimpering, pulling your panties back in their place over your pussy, dragging the tip of your middle finger up and down your dripping slit, sighing. Adding your index, you put pressure to the sides of your clit as you slide your digits in the same direction, over and over, teasing yourself, breathing out little moans that make him grip the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. 

Hobi glances once at what you’re doing and swears. “Fuck, rub your clit. Don’t tease yourself, baby. Make yourself feel good.” 

With a mewl, you stick your fingers together and begin a series of circles, doing as he says. Your eyes roll back, head knocking back into the leather, satisfaction seizing your body and sweetening it. The material of your panties is so flimsy that it feels as though your fingers are stroking your bare flesh and when you tug the fabric to your hole to wet it and rub your clit harder, your moans gain volume, mingling with The Weeknd’s poetry seamlessly and magnificently, dethroning the rain. 

And then Hobi shifts the gear stick with your hand and drives so fast that your pleasure deepens, thrill rushing in your veins. You match your circles to that speed, your sounds becoming obnoxious, whiny squeaks when you look at him to see his jaw clenched, chest heaving and the tent in his pants larger than you last checked it. 

Hobi skims his fingers along your forearm, back and forth, cradling it. Senses your stare and reciprocates it, catching you at your best when you find your spot and buck your hips, furrowing your brows. He moans, clutching your thigh. 

“So good. Such a good girl, rubbing her clit for me to get praised. Fuck, baby. You’re doing so good.” 

You lift your fingers in order not to come, the aftershocks of your ripped away orgasm quivering throughout your whole body and you squeeze his hand, letting go—wrapping it around his tent, instead. You figure he deserves it for praising you like that. 

He finds your lidded, mischievous eyes in the rear view mirror and he flattens his lips, a brutal expression on his face that should make you scared, but it doesn’t. It only spurs you on. You graze your palm on him, causing his breath to quicken, and you whimper when you search and search for the tip of his cock. He’s slender, but big and your mouth dries. 

“You almost made me come with what you said,” you say, truthfully, retracing your path down his length, his breath, now hardened, wafting over you. You love the way he focuses on the road with every fiber of his being as you’re toying with him. Love watching him grit his teeth, narrow his eyes; love watching sweat adorn his flushed chest and neck. You ache to bite him there. 

And you would—had he not buckled you in place. 

You don’t notice you’ve arrived at your apartment until he stops the car and turns to face you, leaning his elbow on the center console. Nobody could gaslight you into believing that ride took thirty minutes. Nobody. 

Hobi made that fifteen. Ferally. For you. 

You can see it in his shining face—his need for you, his desire, the fact he sped down the road because you’re so horny. And you ache to kiss him. 

“You really do have a praise kink,” he says, mutedly. Must be thinking the same because his gaze flicks to your lips. You lick them for him, encouraging him to do it. “Almost coming from me praising you. Such a good girl.” 

You hiss, the drum in your clit returning, stealing your attention. Hoseok grins, pleased to be proven right, pleased that you make it so easy for him. You squeeze his length and he makes the same sound, gritting his teeth briefly before he pouts. 

“What’s this?” he asks, speaking of your hand placement. “When did I allow you to do this?” 

You breathe heavily, descending your fingers to his full balls, feeling them perfectly due to the silky fabric of his dress pants. You knead them and he moans, the sound traveling right to your yet again needy bundle of nerves. Your hand automatically flies to it, rubbing it, and Hobi curses, eyes narrowing, fixed on the movement of your fingers. 

“It’s asking for me, isn’t it?” you murmur, sliding your hand back to his manhood and his pools almost go cross, head tilting back. Your pleasure from your motions expands, your nerve endings burning. 

“I’m so hard for you,” he agrees, his hand clasping over yours, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows with great difficulty, the column of his throat such a thing of beauty for you that it forces you to unclip your seatbelt. You’re about to crawl onto his lap, but one darkened look from him makes you decide against it. “Show me that pussy, baby.” 

Your moan has a certain elation to it, giddy at the fact you get to expose such an intimate part of you to him, giddy that he’s taking this to another level. 

You slide your drenched panties to the side and at the sight of your glistening pussy Hobi groans deeply.

“Lean against the door,” he commands, wiping at his mouth and you tremble all over, more than delighted that he’s reacting to you this way. 

You swivel, propping your back against the leather of his door and Hobi lifts your legs, spreading them. You hook one of them around the back of his headrest while the other dangles in his hold. His gaze zeroes in on your pussy and as he bites his lip, he acknowledges himself with her by tracing the flesh with his thumb. Your clit, your lips before he circles your gushing hole, groaning, bettering the song you barely can hear. Your confidence and your allure skyrockets and you follow his digit, riding it, begging for more of his touch. He plays chase with you until both of you and him can’t take it anymore and when his thumb is completely soaked, he lifts it to your mouth—only to fuck with you, though, because he plunges it inside his, leaving your own parted for nothing. 

You’re embarrassed, but he likes it. Whimpers around his finger. Pushes your knee to your shoulders and dives right in. 

You yelp, grabbing a hold of his hair as he licks over your clit, closing his lips over it and sucking until your eyes roll back, until all your still parted mouth knows is his name and your thick heel digs into his shoulder. 

But you moan the wrong variation and he’s quick to correct you with a dripping chin, his hands on either side of you, face merely inches away from yours. “That’s Hoseok for you, not Hobi.” 

Red all over, you can only moan in response, gripping his hair until he hisses in pain. He strums your clit without breaking eye contact, so slippery and swollen from his attack. The orchard in you grows, brims with fruit that is on the cusp of bursting, the berries in you big and full. His eyes narrow furthermore, pupils dilated, causing his gaze to darken in ways you’ve never thought could be possible. 

“Moan my name, baby. Show me how good I’m making you feel.” 

The wrong variation slips again, all due to the mind numbing pleasure he’s giving you. He adds more pressure to his fingers for a second before he withdraws and slaps your thigh. And slaps it again. 

“I can’t praise you if you don’t learn well, can I?” he mutters and you whine so loudly that his eyes round, body growing boneless. “Fuck, baby, if you keep making sounds like that I’m gonna come in my pants.” 

You scramble your words, find it the most difficult thing in the world. And he doesn’t help you. Not when he sinks a long finger inside your heat, fucking you slowly until you can take him. You lose your mind altogether. 

“You’re making me feel too-too good,” you breathe out, hiccuping as he adds a second finger in, silencing you when he gives you long strokes. You follow his gaze down and perceive that he’s watching you soak his digits. He twists them, moaning, a litany of mad, mad curses falling out of his mouth in a hushed tone. 

“So wet just from me praising you, oh my God,” Hobi comments and you squeeze your eyes shut, taking it as he begins to pound you to the hilt, his arm bulging, his whole body moving. “Eyes on me. What do you call me when I make you feel this good, hm? I already told you. Just remember.” 

You know which variation he means and wants to hear, but your tongue curls, aching to utter a different name that he deserves to be called by. 

And you say it, opening your eyes and boring them into his. “Daddy.” 

And you don’t stop saying it. Not when he closes his eyes for a split second, agonized by such saccharinity. Not when he undoes the button of his pants and pulls himself out while thumbing your clit. You gasp, legs quivering, what you touched brought to reality and your orgasm nears, especially when he fist-fucks his length. 

Hoseok draws back down to your clit, licking it over, nuzzling his face in it as he drinks your nectar right from the source, his wet fingers from you making squeaky sounds around his girth, causing you to scream, the intensity of the moment running so deep and you’re too weak to take it, overwhelmed by his arousal. 

He lifts his head for a moment. “I want you to call me Daddy when you come on my tongue,” he rasps amidst his growls, never stopping the movement around his cock, and you nod your head, vehemently, willing to do anything for him.

“I’m so close.” 

Hoseok pouts. “That’s so good, baby. You know what to do?” 

You swallow. “I’m gonna call you Daddy when I come.” 

He grins at you and the expression breaks when he fucks his tip, his brows casting a shadow on his face. You break along with it, shuddering—pleasured from watching him pleasure himself. And you break again when he praises you for your good answer. “Such a good girl. You’re gonna come hard for me?” 

You don’t get to say your yes because when he sucks your clit into his mouth and groans against it as he flicks it with his tongue, he’s a witness to it himself. The fruits in your orchard explode and he drinks their juices, running the muscle all over your pussy, his mouth smacking, enjoying every drop. You squeal the title, forcing pleased growls out of him that deepen when you swear, repeating the name over and over again until your orgasm smooths down the perimeters of your body, slowly dwindling away.  

You can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t see. White dots flood your vision and the only thing that grounds you is Hobi taking your hand in his. The dots swim away, revealing him on the verge of his own orgasm as he tugs on his length, rapidly now. 

“That was so good, baby. You came so well for me. Called me Daddy like I wanted. Good girl,” he praises and your moans are an endless stream, enveloping around his cock, which he guides your hand towards. The weight of it, his warmth, the protruding veins, you could come again just from the feel of him. “Jerk off your Daddy. He’s close, too, from the way you came for him.” 

The third person, fuck. You bite your lip, focusing on his tip as you grip him, twisting your wrist. His skin is sticky from your nectar and you spit onto your hand, earning a praise from him that makes your mind spin, even though you heard those two words plenty of times throughout your sinful date. 

It will never get old—it will only make your femininity wetter for him. 

And his growls, the same could be applied to them. They propel you to fuck him faster while your fingers sneak over to your sensitive clit that he provokes, rubbing circles that cloud your vision with a mist, painting him to be an angel—like the one you saw in the museum. 

And when he comes, he grows a pair of glorious wings. Black, with hints of rose gold and pinks. His body doubles over, hands propped on the dashboard and the passenger seat as he spills for you, ropes of cum painting your stomach in that eternal ivory color that serves as skin for those sculptures. In a way you become them once he praises you for making him come, his breaths a legato rivulet that gives you life, his hips snapping, fucking your hand. 

He smears his cum on your tanned stomach, fingers dipping below the waistband of your panties to discover a lighter shade of skin, marveling at the difference. Light passes through his eyes before he covers your pussy with the fabric, opening the glove department to fetch some tissues, cleaning you up, dragging down your dress and helping you sit up.

It’s at this moment, as he’s kneeling—towering over you and you’re sitting on your bum with your hands folded on your lap like the good girl he made you into, that he clutches the back of your neck and smashes his mouth into yours, moving it against you with such strength and vigor that you struggle to devour him in the same manner. It causes you to claw at his sides, to long to see his body in its full, bare beauty. His imaginary wings wrap around you, sealing the resplendence of your orgasm profoundly inside your skin and when he tastes you, his growls traveling down your throat are the raindrops that the orchard inside you needs in order to grow. You help him by moaning back, the aftertaste of you the sunlight. 

Piercing his gaze into yours, he caresses your hair, messes up your diligently fixed updo. Catches your ribbon as it falls, wrapping it around his hand, the wisps dangling from his fingers like your leg was just a few moments ago. 

You’re so satisfied that you could cry. 

You don’t even understand what just happened and how it came to be. Don’t remember what occurred before you sat down in his car—Hobi has completely and wholly erased it. 

And it’s him who notices that your hand still carries the remnants of him. You don’t care to look—you can’t rip your gaze away from the shine on his face, from the gratification smoothing out his features, from the pink flush decorating the perfect redness of his swollen lips. But Hobi forces you to, in the tenderest of ways. Looks lovingly at your palm, cooing, shooting that look into your eyes, where it unfolds, creates something new that you never experienced before. And when he grins, your stomach flips, winged creatures intoxicated with madness inside. 

“You see what you did?” he whispers, the love in his eyes expanding, growing warmer, burning you faintly. “I want you to lick it up. You deserve every drop.” The breath you let out causes him to tremble and you cradle the fabric of his shirt in your fist. Hobi kisses your fingers, looking at you through them, his smile quivering. “Stick out your tongue for me, baby.” 

You do and he slides your palm over it, his salty nectar the sea that swam against your body a week ago in your healing time and you moan, devouring his taste like he devoured your mouth, licking it up, collecting it until there’s nothing left. You show him your tongue, then, and Hobi plays with it, using his thumb, your ribbon wrapped around his hand tickling your chin. He rubs it on the muscle, playing chase with you again until he tells you to suck it. And the sound that descends from his lips once you do makes you squeeze your thighs together, your own wetness dripping out of you. 

To end it, Hobi kisses your forehead, lingering there for a few seconds longer. Caresses your mouth, tracing each line, tracing your cupid’s bow, making you glisten with your own saliva. A shining, lively angel—just like him. You whimper. 

“Swallow it, baby.” 

You do, showing him the evidence that you obeyed after. 

“Good girl.” 

You take the underside of him, semi hard, into your hand, giggling, heart thumping. “You just made me horny all over again.”

Hobi hums, brushing his ribbon-clad fingers through your hair from the crown of your head. You want him to do that once you suck him off. “And you’re gonna make me hard all over again if you touch me like that.” 

You mimic the noise he made, squeezing him. Hobi curses, delighting you. “Let’s go inside. I owe you that breakfast, don’t I?” 

He kisses you, softly, with a hint of harshness that causes your nipples to harden painfully against your bra. You almost rub your clit again, so fucking out of it, crazed. 

“You do, baby.” 

You got everything you wanted in such a small amount of time that your vision twirls. Hobi is holding your hand as you’re leading him to your apartment, your ribbon still hanging from yours and his intertwinement, and your heart hasn’t stopped beating feverishly in your chest. Not even once. 

You’re facing the inevitable as you watch Hobi unlace his dress shoes on his knee, his cock stiff and uncomfortable in his pants. You’re brazenly falling for him. You know your hormones swirling your system from the lustfulness you indulged in aren’t to blame—if there’s anyone to blame, then it’s Hobi himself. You consider him to be such a beautiful person that you would be absolutely stupid, blind and deaf not to fall for him. And what’s more, you sense your decline to be safe. Stable. A leverage that won’t ever break. A ribbon that won’t fray. 

It’s as strange as it is inviting and your submission comes naturally to you. And this time, you don’t fear it won’t last. Don’t fear you’ll let up. There’s a sense vibrating in you that assures you that Hobi will take care of it. Put it back where it belongs if it ever strays. You don’t have to monitor it. You don’t have to do shit. 

You were wrong about one more thing. Hobi isn’t Daddy. 

He’s Father. 

It’s this thought that drives you to take off your dress and leave it in the middle of the floor that leads to your kitchen. You’re barren down to your soaked underwear, bra and knee socks, your feet basking in the way they don’t have to ache in your boots anymore. Pulling a plate of eggs out of the refrigerator, you set it on the counter, preparing a pan by oiling it on the stove. You hear Hobi’s feet pad on the floor as you pop some bread in the toaster and you turn your head, seeing only his dark silhouette standing behind you, your dress and your ribbon in his hands. 

Your heart quickens, abnormally. 

“How do you like your eggs?” you ask, resuming your cooking as you break the shell of an egg on the lip of the pan, spilling the delight into the bubbling oil. 

Hobi crosses the distance and you can only feel the softness of your ribbon when he places his hands on your hips, letting them travel until they stumble across the pooch of your lower belly. He groans, holding you there, pressing his hard, silk-clad cock against your nearly bare bum. 

Self-consciousness creeps in as he kneads one of your insecurities and you quiver, clasping your hand over his, your confidence wavering. 

“However you like them is how I like them,” Hobi flirts and you laugh through your nose, shaking your head, waiting for the egg white to fade into that milky color he painted your stomach with. 

Sunny side up it is. 

“Hobi, your game is out of this world,” you flirt back, sliding your spatula under the egg to check if it’s done before you can flip it. 

Hobi lowers himself onto his knees and you gasp, soundlessly. He begins to scatter violent kisses along the dots upon the flesh of your bum, sucking it into his mouth as if it were an orange he was sinking his teeth into. You have to grip the counter in order not to fall over, willing strength into your weakened legs. 

He bites the supple roundness of your ass cheek, smoothing out the pain with a flick of his tongue and kisses, gentle ones this time around. Hums. “Is it?” 

He glides his nose along the inner of your thigh, rooting right in the center of your pussy, burying his face there. You turn around halfway, arching your back, latching onto his hair that you’ve ruined, egg long forgotten. 

“Your thighs are wet again, fuck,” he whispers, mouthing your clit before he descends once again to them, licking them over, drinking your nectar that he’s created. Trails his tongue back up and, sliding your panties to the side, he takes you into his mouth, growling as he sucks onto your lips, playing with them using his tongue, hands spreading your ass cheeks, so he can have more space to make you absolutely lose yourself in him. 

And it’s working. Even more so when he begins to swirl his tongue around that other, tiny hole, causing your eyes to go cross before they roll back. Your head dips into a dreamy daze, where time doesn’t exist as he switches between flicking your clit and eating your ass and it isn’t until a certain burning smell suffuses your nostrils that you snap out of it. 

You’ve burned his egg, its edges black like the feathers of his imaginary wings, and you yelp, turning off the stove, pushing the pan away. 

“Hobi, I burned your egg,” you exclaim and he bends you over the counter while still remaining on his knees for you, sucking your clit with all the strength he possesses. Your climax pinches you in warning, lovingly, promising to melt over you like rain soon, so very soon. 

Hobi doesn’t give a fuck about his egg, it seems. 

“Just a little more, please,” he begs, moving his flat tongue from side to side on your bud, hands descending down your wet thighs until he reaches your knee socks, stopping there. Whimpers. 

That would’ve thrown you over the edge had he not pulled away, fingers wrapping around your knees. 

You turn around and the sight of him on his knees with his glazed nose, mouth and chin, with his cock pitifully erect in his pants, creating a print that makes you salivate, absolutely and irrevocably breaks you. You can still hear his plea ring in your mind, begging you to give him a few more seconds of your pussy, and your brain malfunctions. Numbness tightens around your fingers when you cradle his face and it feels so real when you do so—the fact that you’re wanted, desired; the fact that Hobi is the one in submission to you, dominant yet attentive to you to the point that he would never want do anything you wouldn’t. He listens to you, carves his life around you… and he hasn’t even known you for a month. 

You messed up his hair—and when you run your fingers through his strands, you feel your powerful ruination sifting through them, feel your seduction and your confidence, alive and breathing in that thick, dark brown mop of his. And now you crave to mess up his skin. Bruise it. Stain it with the pinks you can see in his imaginary wings. Watch them turn yellow like the rose gold in their flecks over the following days. 

You’re not letting go of him. 

Not when he looks at you like you’re Virgin Mary and he’s a sinner. 

You pull him up by the collars of his shirt, wrinkling the fabric, adding to the ruination, and it’s electrifying. He’s the cleanest sinner you’ve ever had the grace to see and you want to stain him. Beyond the stickiness of your juices. And when he towers over you and cages you in between his buff body and the counter, hands on either side of you upon the marble, his patchouli scent making you bloodthirsty, you don’t kiss him. No, you go straight for his neck. 

He didn’t expect it, groaning when you lick a stripe over his vein, sucking the skin inside your mouth. Over and over again until the sucking noises make him twitch and fist the ends of your hair, pressing his cock against your stomach. You’re feral, you’re inhuman, scattering kisses along that column like you’ve never had a man in your hands before. And it’s true. You never have. It was always you who had been in men’s hands. Never the other way around. 

Your fingers gain feeling when you undo the buttons of his shirt, ripping some of them, secretly preventing him from going to work after you’re finished with him. Unless you plaster your correcting concealers on him, he really can’t step a foot outside. The bruise you left on his column is huge, purply red, and the only thing it’s missing is bite marks. A joy rotates in you, rooting from the fact that you’re changing his plans, that you have an effect on him, and you unfold that emotion when you tug that shirt down his broad shoulders and press a kiss in the middle of his chest. 

But then Hobi grips your hair on the crown on your head, making you look at him. 

And you can’t explain it to yourself, why you like being manhandled like that, despite the freedom you just experienced. Like a child, whose father let her run free before he scolded her and told her to stop, for she ran for too long and it’s getting cold. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, lowly, and the tone etches itself onto your own throat because your answer is ready on the tip of your tongue, unabashed, dirty, throbbing.

“I need you to fuck me.” 

Hobi blinks, his brows rising, a light like a comet shooting past his irises before an unbounded, starless night shrouds them. 

You’ve done it. You’ve stained him. Now he needs to come all over you. Make a mess. Paint you again. 

He slackens his hold on your hair. Runs his hand down the length. “If I fuck you, I’ll breed you.” Curls his hand around your throat, where those words form a new necklace, plated with that rose gold. Your mouth parts, a moan falling past, your nectar in tandem, mind dizzy from the idea of being stuffed full of his cum. He flattens his palm over your sternum, hooks his fingers over the band of your bra in the middle of your breasts. You hope he chisels the lines of his hand into your skin. You want to wear him. “Are you on birth control?” 

You stopped taking it the moment you were broken up with. Didn’t think you’d need it so soon. Didn’t think you’d have a man in your life again, let alone sleep with him. 

Your body desires to please Hoseok so resolutely that a wisp of your regret swathes around his wrist—regret that you threw away those pills that are the driving force in his sexuality. He might have been okay with not taking this any further, but you’re not. You’re far, far from okay. 

You want to be bred. You want to be bred so much that you could cry. 

Your mouth pouts, but your sadness doesn’t touch your seduction. It merely heightens it. 

“You have a breeding kink?” you ask, mimicking his former words, causing him to drag his tongue over his lips slowly, divulging his arousal. It’s another tree that begins to grow in your orchard, planted by your bare hands. A cherry tree, its pink flowerets the flush that spreads across his prominent pecs. You want to make them shiny with your tongue. 

And you do. 

You place wet kisses over the underside of his left pec, nibbling on the skin, your small stature making it easy for you. Hobi inhales a sharp breath, sneaking his fingers under the cup of your bra, grasping your breast, squeezing until you whimper. 

“A severe breeding kink,” Hoseok corrects you, just like you did in his car. He pulls down your bra straps, his hand quick to undo the clasp on your back, disposing you of the undergarment, dropping it onto the ground. Gooseflesh spreads across your skin and you let him feel it, let him feel the effect he has on you by pressing yourself against him, twisting your arms around his torso. 

A tender hug, in the middle of a bonding moment. You’d be so happy, you’d laugh, you’d skip, if you had never thrown away those pills.

You wonder if he feels the drum of your heart, if he feels how it’s creating a brand new music that no human, no celestial being has ever heard before. 

“I stopped taking birth control several weeks ago, Hobi,” you say, your regret and your sadness lowering your tone. Hobi coos and it makes you want to sob. “Did you bring a condom?” 

He caresses your bare back, your hair a stream of a waterfall that he parts with his hand. “No, I didn’t expect this to happen.” 

You do the same for him, burying your face deeper into his chest, perceiving that you’re embracing a pure angel. You engrave patterns into his skin, feathers of wings that are dripping with the fire of stars. Even though you’re dying to get fucked, this tenderness is, little by little, appeasing your darkness in a way you don’t really understand. 

“We don’t have to do anything. I can make you come with my mouth again,” Hobi says, drifting his nails along the perimeter of your shoulder blade while his other hand grips your waist. The memory of the moons to the sky you paint on his back.

You lift your head. Meet the gray clouds in his eyes. “You want to breed me that bad?” 

A smile curls one end of his mouth. “It’s what you deserve.” 

The same smile finds a way to your mouth, then blossoms into a grin, your heart a heavy music, and you press it into the middle of his chest. Bite him there, his growls another instrument in the song. He clutches the hair at the nape of your neck, coaxing out a similar sound, your darkness a wave that ebbs to and fro. 

“Put it in my ass, then.” 

Hobi calls you by your name, sternly. 

“What?” 

He sighs. “You want to get fucked in your ass on the first date?” 

You don’t know what part of his sentence makes you hiccup. Whether it’s his purity, the fact that such an angel voiced out that lewd desire of yours and didn’t jump head-first into its sea—or whether he acknowledged, once again, that this is a date. Hobi laughs, endearingly, and you blush. He kisses your cheek, lifting your chin, placing a chaste kiss onto your lips and you could die right now and know you’ll be entering the pearly gates. He’s saved a spot for you there, negotiated with God that you’ll spend your eternity there like the businessman he is. 

It’s what propels you to get on your knees. 

“Baby.” 

And it’s him stopping you each time you want more that makes you fall for him harder. 

“You’re so good to me, Hoseok, I can’t help it. I want to give back to you as much as I can.” 

He utters a low, deep curse, tipping up his chin as he cradles your face in both hands. Helps you stand to your feet, kisses you with something that doesn’t resemble the chastity of before and you moan into his mouth, digging moons into his back. You press your pelvis against his thighs, frustrated that you can’t reach his manhood and Hobi hears you, lifts you up and you wrap your legs around him, grinding your femininity against his manliness, squeaking the same curses down his throat. 

“Fuck, baby, grind that pussy on me like that. Just like that, yes. You learn well, don’t you? You’re such a good girl, you just need to get fucked, don’t you, baby?” 

You agree with every word, your expression of pleasure saying the words for you, and Hobi moans, pushing your hips down on him while he meets you each time. 

“Where’s your bedroom, baby?” 

“Down the hall. First door to the right.” 

You suck on his neck as he takes you there, plopping you down onto the edge of your bed. You watch your hands undo the button of his pants, but then he accidentally kicks into something and you know exactly what it is. 

An orange Nike box filled with the two toys you own. 

And Hobi wouldn’t have crouched to get it had you not started giggling. 

How thrilling it is—to see him holding something so private, something no one has ever seen before. 

He palms his cock once he discovers what’s inside, rolling his eyes back. He throws the box next to you on the mattress, pushing you back and ripping your panties out of your body in a split second. Your giggles die, replaced by whimpers, replaced by the beat of your clit and his vulgarities as he pins your knees down, gazing, lovingly, at the way your nectar trickles down to your other hole. He bends to lick it up and you die, too. 

“Naughty fucking girl. How can you be so naughty and so good at the same time? You’re making me lose my mind,” Hobi snarls, putting his entire weight into the back of your knees and you gush for him, gasping, not able to take his praise, your hips instinctually raising for more of his tongue, which he slaps your thigh for. Once, twice, three times, four times until you whimper so loudly that there’s nothing else left for him to do but let up, grab your pink hitachi and lay down on his back, guide you to sit on his face. 

It’s now that he takes the time to ogle your body. His night-tinged eyes glide along your tan lines, his fingers tracing them, making you shudder and rotate your hips above his mouth that he wets and keeps wetting as if it’s not enough to quench his thirst. 

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he chokes out, brushing the pads of his fingers along your stiffened nipples. Fireworks shoot out above your orchard, casting a rainbow of colors upon the trees and bushes. “I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve you to have you like this. You belong to that museum, baby, but I’d die if someone were to look at you in my place.” 

His possessiveness coated with so much affection and admiration for you elongate your imaginary wings. And you can’t halt the rounding of your mouth, the pool of tears that line your eyes, the cracking of your heart as you take in his precious words. You feel like flying; you feel like soaring free with the knowledge that with the two beats of his own wings he’ll catch up to you, fly with you like two doves. 

You want to kiss him. Pay your gratitude that way and when you begin to crawl down his body, he stops you by grabbing your waist, immobilizing you above his face. 

“Stay where you are. You’re not sitting on my cock until you come on my tongue. Is that what you want? Ride Daddy’s cock until he covers you with his cum?” 

You can’t take it anymore. You simply can’t. 

Hobi turns the vibrator to life and its buzzing sound makes you quiver. You lower yourself onto his mouth that he quickly opens for you, darting out his tongue. He lets you ride the muscle, guiding your hips to twirl in circles, and you hold onto your breasts for emotional support as you sense yourself slowly disappearing in him, in the pleasure he gives you, in his warm, dark aura. 

Your mouth has no lock, no force to stop it from speaking. 

“I was wrong, Hoseok,” you start, changing the direction—swinging your hips back and forth as you grab onto his hair with one hand while the other stimulates your nipple, making you pant, whine and so terribly out of it. “It’s not your game that’s out of this world. It’s your fucking dirty talk.” 

Hobi hums, flicking your hand away and pinching your nipple, causing you to tip your head back and pour more vigor into your movement, his mouth too busy to respond. 

“If you ever talk to anyone like this that’s not me, I’ll kill her, you hear me? She won’t live to see the next day.” 

It’s Hobi now that can’t seem to take it anymore. 

Holding you steady by the waist, he sits up, sucking on your clit with so much strength that you scream, your body shuttering so violently that you completely lose yourself. He throws you onto your pillows, raises your hips until they’re at level with his mouth and finishes his fucking job. Alternates between sucking and licking, stars flooding your vision, the ones you traced on his beautiful, broad back. 

You come and you don’t stop. 

Hobi spits on your clit and presses down the hitachi on it, moving it from side to side, your orgasm prolonging, reaching highs beyond the heavenly kind and all you can see is him, doused in colors that glimmer and his name, the right variation of it this time, falls from your lips like a prayer. Right variation, right prayer. 

Virgin Mary that is looking at her God. 

Setting the toy and your bum on the bed, he takes both of your hands into his fist as you’re still convulsing, in the middle of your undying orgasm. He lines his cock at your entrance, changes his mind last minute, and glides it along your sensitive pussy, holding himself at the base. Back and forth, the ebb and the flow of the sea. The sight does anything but calm you down. It supports the continuation of your orgasm. 

“Listen to me very carefully,” he whispers, lowering your hands to his manhood until they wrap around him. “This cock has been yours the moment you came out of this fucking building to meet me outside. Every ridge, every fucking vein is yours.” He squeezes your hold against him, moving it up and down in an agonizing way that makes him shudder just the same. God at a very breaking point. “And these—” He groans as he uses your hands to cup his balls. “These fucking kids are all yours. Yours to swallow. Yours to decorate this beautiful body with. Yours to stuff your little hole with.” Your chest doesn’t rise with any inhalation of breath. You’re motionless, bloodless, paralyzed through and through. Scorching to the touch. Horny beyond your senses. Hobi pins your hands above your head, lining himself up, at last, at your entrance. Sinks inside you in one swift, but vigorous motion until he’s buried in deep to the hilt and he consumes your scream, kissing you so hard that he sucks every last drop of life you had in you. Then, he nudges his nose against yours, kissing its tip as well. “So don’t think for a second that these eyes are for anyone else but you.” A brutal thrust. A yelp. A loss of time and surroundings. “I’m yours, pup. I’m fucking yours.” A mad, mad laughter. “I’ve known you for a week. Ate your pussy first before I kissed you. And you touched yourself in my fucking car because you got horny from the way I praised you in that museum. How could I not be yours?”

The pet name, the magnificence of his sonnet, the stillness of his cock as you clench around him—the very cozy feeling of him being at home, being at the mountain of Athos that you blessed. You feel so small beneath him, so taken care of—and you’re at loss for words, though only one remains in your otherwise erased vocabulary, and from the top of your lungs, you utter it.

“Daddy.” 

His imaginary wings flutter, the pink swelling over the black, and he growls, letting go of your hands and folding you in half, leaning his weight on the back of your thighs. Props an overlapped pillow beneath your bum, so you’re at the perfect level for him to start fucking you properly.

And he does, coaxing out your screams, causing your legs to shake on either side of his shoulders. 

“That’s right, pup. I’m your Daddy. You’re doing so good, screaming for me the way I like it.” 

Hobi pounds into you, giving you a half of his length that’s more than enough. Bends at the waist to scatter wet kisses along the back of your thigh, filling you to the hilt as he does so, your juices squelching around him, making such a serene, glorious sound that forces him to bite down hard onto your flesh. No alleviation after, just long and ruthless strokes while he stares down at you, eating you with his eyes. The ghost of the pain lingers, adding to the experience, adding volume to your whiny noises. 

“You’re taking it so well. You’re a good pup, aren’t you?” 

You sob, the pressure gyrating deep in your lower tummy, the pet name the thing that will throw you over the edge if he calls you by it again. “Yes, Daddy. I love it when you call me that.” 

A hum. “Oh, yeah?” 

There he fucking goes again. 

A dam rushes to break and you’re defenseless.

“Yeah, I love it so much that it’s gonna make me come.” 

Hobi sucks in a breath. “Tell me you’re my good little pup and I’ll let you come.” The same breath he inhaled lodges in your throat and you watch him with a blurry vision reach over for your hitachi and turn up the intensity until the vibrations are so loud that you hear them echoing within your headspace.

He fucks you faster, ridding you of any chance to speak. Teases you with the toy by placing it, barely, on your stiffened nipple, leaning over to moisten it with his tongue before doing it again. And you can’t stop it and neither can he, the way your orgasm overtakes your whole being. It’s at this moment, when he thrusts become sloppy, that you manage to croak out the words he wanted you to say. 

“I’m your good little pup, Hoseok, oh fuck, yes, yes,” you whisper, your sentence blending into an efflux of legato moans—and this, this is his very undoing. 

And Hobi does something you didn’t expect him to do. 

As colors burst in your perspective and your orgasm drags you under, he stimulates your clit with the toy, pulling out of you and pressing his tip against its vibrating side, growling so deeply that it forces your juices out of you, sprinkling him with its iridescent drops as he tugs at his length. He paints your stomach, paints the hitachi, his nectar so enormous that it lands upon your breasts, even as far as on your neck. His body glistens in sweat and now your essence—and looking at him with your hazy vision, another orgasm rolls in. 

You thrash your body so hard he has to pin you down, ripping the pillow out from behind you, laying down his weight on you. He kisses you and the lip lock lasts, seemingly, for a century. He moves his mouth against yours, basking in the feel of your puffy mouth as he alters between kissing you harshly and kissing you gently, getting to know you this way. 

And when he lets up to breathe, he brushes your hair away, flings the vibrator out until it falls off the bed. 

“Say it again,” Hobi says, affection flashing in his now rounded eyes, its warmth thumping. “Louder, for me.” 

Your throat is dry, but you manage to do it with a sleepy smile. Think you would do anything to please him. “I’m your good little pup.” 

Cupping your face, he kisses you with such tenderness that you begin to cry. Your tears soak his cheeks and he whimpers into your mouth, moved just the same by the depth, the vibrancy of the energy thickening between you. 

And when he looks at you, his own tears rush in his waterline. 

“That’s it, baby,” he whispers, pausing for a second. “What have you done to me?”

When afternoon rolls in, Hobi is still tangled up in your sheets. You brought him breakfast to bed, one you didn’t burn this time, while he rested, naked and gratified, still flushed in pink, but clean from your shower. His patchouli scent intermingled with your body wash, cinnamon and lemon, concocting something intoxicating in you that made you see him with a halo above his head. He became a saint by giving in to his desires, by coming so hard that you still feel his hot ropes of cum singeing all those sensitive, intimate parts of your body. Hobi took his time tracing and smearing each and every drop, rubbing it deep in you as if he was digging a grave for your past. And you watched him do it, with tear-stained cheeks, acknowledging yourself, just as intimately, with the information that this is something Hobi likes to do.

You plan to put that into practice the next time you get to touch him. 

He’s grazing his fingers along your arm as you’re laying halfway on your side, halfway on him, your leg in between his. Seems to be lost in thought, seems to be searching for his words when he widens his travel across your body, going as far as to the peaks of your shoulder blades before returning back. You feel an inkling to help him, feel like it’s the least you can do. 

“What are you thinking about?” you try, dragging a finger across his collarbone. Hobi sighs, so terribly reactive to your touch, your head lifting in such a calming manner as he breathes in and out. 

“Did I scare you with what I said?”

His heart under your ear begins to hammer and right away you understand the gravity of his question. He’s lost himself in a flashback of today’s sinful events, but stumbled across a high, overpowering mountain of his bared emotions—the blessed mountain of Athos. And it seems as though he’s forgotten the way back, the trees around him growing dense, the trees of panic that whisper to him that, maybe, he made a mistake. 

You hope, with every fiber of your being, that he doesn’t regret those words of beauty that have come to live under your skin like planets in the universe that you and he have created. 

That would ruin you. That would break you—and not in the pleasant kind that you like. That universe would drop upon you and you don’t think you’re strong enough to pick up your own half of your creation, shake it off and learn to live again. 

You straddle him and he covers you with your duvet. Not your naked breasts, but your torso, inviting you into that island. You thought he did to prevent distraction from weakening his focus, but he doesn’t regard your body like that—doesn’t regard it as an instrument of lust. Something about that moves you, enough for you to take his hands, your thumbs in the middle of his palms, and spatter your soft kisses on them. On his fingers, his knuckles. And when you reach the back of his hand, you halt, boring your gaze into his, catching that comet flying past his eyes again and staying this time, staying in the glint that appears as his brown pools wet. 

“Your words mean a lot to me. I carry them in my heart. You know that poem?” 

Hobi shakes his head, flattening his lips, closing his eyes for a brief moment. 

You don’t mind. You’re delighted to enlighten him. 

“I carry your heart with me,” you recite, keeping the heel of his palm against your lips. “I carry it in my heart. I am never without it. Anywhere I go, you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling,” you finish the first stanza of the poem that has not left your bloodstream ever since you were a teenage girl. Sharing that with him brings out a sea of feelings you remember your past self invariably longed to swim in. Tenderness, closeness, passion. Having it now feels as though you’ve passed a milestone. Hobi’s halo flashes with a rosy pink hue and your softened heart constricts. “The things you said were my doing, Hobi.” 

He caresses your side, starting from your armpit, going down the side of your breast, your waist until he arrives at the fleshy part of your hip, which he grasps. His chin quivers as he opens his mouth to speak and a lump forms in your throat. 

“You’re a poem, pup,” he whispers, circling his thumb over your tummy. “You don’t mind that I said those things?” 

You kiss his hands again, upon the same places to make your affection last longer on his skin. Your clit awakens at the pet name and naturally, you scooch over until you’re sat on his soft manhood over the duvet and you begin to move your hips back and forth. Hobi hisses, but doesn’t stop you this time. Lets you do what you want in the safety you conjured around him. 

“Say them again.” 

You speed up your movement. 

Hobi moans. Pauses. Swallows. Thinks. “I’m yours.” 

You grind harder in reward, moaning with him, feeling him stiffen under your clit, feeling him comprehend that you love those declarations. 

“My cock is yours,” he breathes out, his other hand joining the other and gripping your hip, digging in his nails. Another half moons, another beauty, intensifying the pleasure. You lick your fingertips and pinch your nipples. Hobi shudders, visibly, underneath you. “If you keep this up, I’m gonna have to cancel my work meeting.” 

You laugh, meekly but seductively, prolonging your thrusts, slowing them down, coaxing pained groans out of him. A delight. “Who said I wanted you to go?” 

Hobi curses, switching places with you on a whim that surprises you, bends you over, arches your back by lifting your bum in the air. The duvet falls, sadly, off of the mattress—and your soul, for him, falls equivalently. 

He slaps the side of your thigh. One, twice, thrice. “Who’s pussy is this?” 

You long to see him, your soul begs for it. Whispers to you to grab your phone and you do, swiping your finger on the screen and angling it so your camera has a blissful view of him. Of him fixed, darkly, on your ass and your femininity in the middle. 

Curious to know what’s taking you so long to answer, his brows rise as he discovers what you’re doing and he bites his lip, pulls on your legs to straighten them and you plop down on the mattress with a loosened breath. He gets in the same position. Licks over the swell of your ass cheek. 

“Film it. Film yourself telling me who’s pussy this is,” Hoseok commands and in a millisecond, without a thought spared, you click on the red button, excitement tingling your nerves. 

“My pussy is yours, Hoseok.” 

His eyes flick to the camera, meeting your stare, and your breath hitches, the view so attractive as he mouths that skin, marking it. He sneaks a hand to your clit, lifting his body a little, and spanks the spot he bruised. You gasp, elated, humming in a high-pitched tone, causing him to smirk. 

“Ride my hand. Whose pussy is this, baby, hm?” 

You snap your hips, furrowing your brows at the faint pleasure, at the desperation that courses through your veins. 

“Yours, Hoseok, ah, fuck. I want you inside me, please.” 

And he takes you, right there on camera, from behind—immortalizing your inside joke as you and him mention it and laugh about it together, immortalizing the way he paints your wings that ivory color and the way he rubs it in, sinking it deep within its membrane. 

And when you’re so spent that you can’t keep your eyes open and Hobi is drifting his mouth over your breasts, he tells you to send it to him. And with one cracked open, you do. 

It’s later in the evening that you find out that it wasn’t Hobi you sent that video to and your blood freezes. 

Your phone rings and Jungkook’s picture fills the screen. 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah, @fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist | READ part one

#hobi smut #jhope smut #jhope x reader #jung hoseok #hoseok x oc #hoseok x yn #hoseok x y/n #hoseok smut #jungkook x oc #jungkook x yn #jungkook smut #hoseok fanfic #btscreatorscorner #btswritersclub #btswriterscollective

[rollinouttahere-writes]

May I request A B I K L with Luffy?

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

I really hope that you aren't touch averse, because your personal space is also his now. Luffy is in a constant state of touching you in one way or another. He's always holding your hand, hugging you, hanging off of you, poking and prodding at you for attention, or carrying/dragging you around depending on your height. Luffy is the clingiest man you'll ever meet, and he's strong enough to make sure that you can't escape it.

He also likes doing stuff with you. His favorite part about going to a new island is bouncing around to all of the local food spots to try them with you. He lives for adventure and wants to experience those with you by his side.

Luffy goes hard with everything he does, and that applies to his love for you. While he is far from a romantic, everyone can tell that you're together in one way or another from watching how Luffy interacts with you. His love is intense and suffocating, and most of all, inescapable.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Luffy is the last person to care about making a mess. If he gets bloodied from beating a rival or threat to a pulp, so be it. He won't even notice until you're cringing away from him and begging for him to bathe first. He's the kind of person that will stop at nothing to protect the people he cares about, and of course that applies to you. You're never going to have to be afraid of anything or anyone besides him with Luffy around.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Another one of those fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants kind of a guy. He has his ultimate goal of being the pirate king and wants to celebrate that with you by his side, and likewise wants to be with you whenever you achieve your own goals, but outside of that he's just going to see where life takes the two of you. As long as you're with him, and have ideally fully accepted him and his love, he doesn't really care that much what happens.

He's a lot like Ace in the sense that marriage straight up never crosses his mind. He thinks it's kind of dumb and pointless. It's not like he's going to up and throw away his darling one day just because of the absence of a marriage certificate, so what's the point? He's the pirate king, and you're his pirate queen/king/royalty figure of sorts. Isn't that good enough?

I can see him wanting to have a family one day with his darling, but that would be really far down the line. He wouldn't even start thinking about it until he's in his thirties at least. And well, I hope you also want children because once his mind is set, that's it. It's going to happen.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

A lot of people mistake you two for being just friends with the way he acts. He's so carefree and goofy with you. It isn't that much different from how he acts around his nakama, just more excessive and he kisses you sometimes. He's very openly affectionate (see A for more detail on that) and isn't one to shy away from PDA.

If you're acting up and "being difficult", Luffy is prone to just ignoring it while keeping an iron-clad grip on you in hopes that you'll wear yourself out and drop it.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Luffy is never actively looking for love, so any relationship that does happen will be something of a slow burn friends to lovers type situation. More likely than not, you will be a part of his crew well before he starts to catch feelings for you. The love progresses so slowly and naturally, that when paired with his tendency to already go to the extreme for the people in his life, his darling might not catch on to the fact that he's even yandere for them.

Your relationship doesn't even get a label until someone else points it out, and by that point you're going to already be blinded by his friendly demeanor and probably have no objection to it.

#monkey d luffy #luffy #monkey d luffy x reader #one piece #yandere one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #yandere #x reader #reader insert

[the-colourful-witch]

⚡️✨Katie Bell✨⚡️

This girl just drew herself, really. No effort needed. I liked the actress that portrayed Katie in the films, so I took inspiration from her dark hair and put my own spin on the rest ✨

There is something I have always struggled with when seeing sporty girls represented on screen or in fan art… it’s that they’re always athletically built. Now, that makes sense, in a way, because to make a character design believable it is the easiest way to get the message across: this girl is fit.

But when it comes to representing women in the athletic field, this is not always true. You can be strong and fit and still have rounder arms or legs. You can still have a belly! Unless you’re actively trying to loose weight, exercising does not mean you look like an Olympic runner or swimmer or whatever. 🫡

So, I try to draw real girls, that are sporty, but aren’t necessarily skinny. I hope that makes sense. I’m trying to do better with my designs and incorporating more different body types, to step away from those stereotypes, so maybe you don’t agree with me and think: huh, but she’s still pretty skinny. I’m trying some things, one character at a time :) 🧡☀️🥇

#illustration #harrypotteruniverse #illustrator #hogwarts #characterdesign #characterart #harrypotterart #harrypotterdesign #characterdesignsheets #gryffindor #katie bell #angelina johnson #oliverwood #oliver wood #alicia spinnet #the weasleys #weasley twins #harrypotterfanart #harrypotter #goldentrio #goldentrioera #hogwartshouses #hogwarts quidditch #quidditchuniforms #gryffindorquidditchteam #gryffindorquidditch

[hargitays]

potential spoilers for s2 of HOTD (leaks)

after a day of thinking about it, i'm actually okay with a potential alicole sex scene. i just really am not looking forward to memes making fun of alicent ("she just needed an orgasm"), calling her a hypocrite, etc.

i honestly think this major change alicent has gone through of having a lot of power politically as the queen to now just being the dowager queen could make her go through an identity crisis. she's just the king's mother now. she worked so hard for this, and it sucks. she's (in her head) done everything by the books, she's morally just, she's devoted her life to serving the king & the realm, she's done her duty, and now there's going to be war.

even if you headcanon alicent as a lesbian, she does not know that about herself. and, even if she did, she wouldn't believe it or do anything about it. she has always been sexually repressed because from what we have seen, she has NEVER had a consensual sexual relationship with someone in her entire life. if she wants to experiment sexually in search of identity, i honestly think that is a good and interesting direction for her character this season. and maybe it will even help the general audience like her more, since she's choosing for herself liberation sexually (but this is just wishful thinking). the main complaint about alicent last season was just a lack of autonomy and perpetual victimhood. while i disagree with that, i feel like this entire arc might help her find herself more & gain some autonomy back. but i just don't really see why she'd be experimenting sexually in the midst of all this turmoil unfolding.

major actual spoilers:

fabien said in a recent interview that criston feels very guilty because he was with alicent (in her chambers, i'm assuming) DURING BLOOD & CHEESE 😭. i really hope i'm misunderstanding but it sounds pretty clear in the video that that is what happens. so maybe the one time that alicent decides to have sex upon her own volition her grandchildren and daughter are attacked and one is murdered??? i just know now that is why she seems so depressed and guilty in every clip we've seen so far. probably why she tries to drown herself in the bathtub. both her and criston are just going to be completely guilt ridden and i guess i don't know how to feel about it until we really see it, i just hope the writing is good. that's all that i need to be on board. i need the sex scene to make sense, time & place, and i hope there is some buildup prior to it etc.

#house of the dragon spoilers #hotd #house of the dragon #a song of ice and fire #alicent hightower #criston cole #alicole #asoiaf #fire and blood #team green

[ghostofhyuck]

NCT Dream and situationships with them.

AN: Idk if situationship is just a filipino thing or not??? but basically it's a situation + relationship where you two people are committed to each other but not in that serious way ?? so it's like a blurred way to say that you like someone, but not to the point that you want to commit to being in a relationship with that...i hope that make sense lol. 

Mark Lee

Everyone thinks that you're wasting your time having Mark as a situationship only. HELLO ??? That's Mark Lee??? He's kind, a gentleman, and everyone wants him but he's there!! stucked in a situationship with you and you're just taking advantage of the situation. But you told Mark many times, you like him yes but you just couldn't commit to a relationship at the moment and he was alright with the setup. You do feel bad but you two consent with the setup, so it's fine. 

Huang Renjun

Having Renjun as a situationship is such a light feeling? You two started as friends who confessed that you two like each other and the next step was what now? You two aren't prepared for a relationship so a non-label situationship it is. It still has that platonic soulmates feeling around but at the same time, you two know when one gives affection and gesture, it's something the other should take seriously. Seriously, having him as your situationship is just having a relationship without the label. 

Lee Jeno

OH. Pulling my hair hard right now because a situationship with Jeno is going to be so chaotic!! It'll be because first, you two have mutual feelings; second, past issues would leave you overthinking about Jeno; and third, you don't want to jump into a relationship where you're the only who wants it. So there's no communication!! And as much as you and Jeno like each other, the mixed signals can be so confusing like why are you so sweet to me, I know you like but do you like me enough to commit ???? tell me !!!

Lee Donghyuck

Another situationship that has a lot of mixed signals. Haechan's sweet, an ideal boyfriend really BUT he already told you that he's just not ready for a relationship BUT he just tends to be so indecisive with his feelings. (cough, gemini, cough) so there's a tendency where he opens up about commitments and stuff but then the next day, it'll be nothing for him LIKE !!!! make up your mind Haechan !!! because you'll be there all confused and wondering where this situationship will go !!! 

Na Jaemin

Hey are you still there? Good --- situationships with Jaemin would probably be the worst, (leos lol) he's the life of the party and if he's bored, he'll be bored. But if he remembers that he has you, he'll go back to you even though there are times that you'll be left hanging. You don't know what to feel about it but hey, it's Jaemin. Even if he calls you at an ungodly hour of 1 am, you'll be willing to meet up with him because you like him, and you hope that his feelings for you haven't fade yet. 

Zhong Chenle

Oh situationships with Chenle would probably be the fun type of situationship ??? It's like the honeymoon phase where you two are clingy with each other, flirt nonstop, and probably had fucked more than once. Everyone is convinced that you two are together but they'll be shocked that you two are not in a relationship. A situationship ??? Really ??? when you are THIS clingy with each other ??? You two probably would laugh it off but wouldn't try to open it to the other because you two are afraid of ruining with what you two have because of a serious commitment. 

Park Jisung

Situationships with Jisung can test your patience. Sure, he's everything and perfect. He treats you nicely BUT why can't he commit? why does he need to put you in a situationship when he is a complete package of a boyfriend !!! You tried to open it to Jisung but he tries to brush it off, he never said that he's not ready for a relationship so what's holding him back ??? probably would ignore all the signs that you want him because Jisung thinks that being a situationship is okay with him and you deserve more (but at the same time, he doesn't want to let you go!)

#nct dream #nct imagines #nct dream fic #nct fic #nct x reader #nct #nct dream imagine #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct dream reactions #nct drabbles #nct dream imagines #nct mark #nct jeno #nct renjun #nct haechan #nct jaemin #nct chenle #nct jisung

[ecto-gorper]

Hello! Can i request Romantic! folly x reader hcs?

* . 🩸Folly x GN! Reader Headcanons

a/n: ahhh folly folly folly oh my goodness!!! as soon as i saw her design i was OBSESSED. she’s so pretty and aahhhhn. HGNFFBHSBD!!!!! i tried to make this as “realistic” as possible i guess. considering she’s. QUUITE THE NICE GAL…. hope u like ^_^

warnings: none <3

Who, what, when, where, and why are my first questions. Folly is… irredeemable, she’s the physical incarnation of malice, and you STILL have the balls to pursue a romantic relationship? Hats off to you, because she’s certainly impressed anyone could ever view her in such a light. Most fear her, that’s ideal, and yet, as she towers over you, all she sees in your eyes are vibrant hearts.

At first, you only served to stroke her ego. She wasn’t actively encouraging it, but it did feel nice to have a little plaything, a toy. She had never sought one out before, not being the type of girl to play with her food, but you were too amusing to kill off. Folly wonders just how far you’ll go for just a bit of her attention.

Elaborating on the “toy” part— Folly likes to mess with you. Whether it’s entering your dreams or physically beside you in the elevator, she enjoys watching you squirm, and it’s clear despite her lack of expressive features. Little touches, like running a claw down your cheek or leaning in just enough to fill you with unease are her favorites. There’s always an impending sense of doom around her, yet all you can feel is the fluttering weight of butterflies in your stomach.

Folly is… not the best at romance. Any flirtatious remarks she makes are often mistaken for sarcastic jabs rather than sincere compliments, something she’s been trying hard to fix. The way she reacts, however, is quite different. More often than not, she gives you a silent nod of acknowledgment, and if you’re lucky, a brief headpat lasting a millisecond—though it’s a bit rough.

If you’ve come here expecting a possessive or jealous depiction of Folly, you’re going to be disappointed. She knows she’s all that, she knows she’s strong, and she knows you couldn’t possibly find anyone better. Yes, it’s an arrogant thing to admit, but is she really wrong? Be honest. However, her confident demeanor may falter a bit if you’re being extra touchy with someone else, prompting her to give them a harsh, cold stare until they leave you alone.

Some of the other elevator passengers may ignore or keep their distance from you, afraid of upsetting or alarming Folly, not wanting to have harsher nightmares or worse punishments. Even if you’re sincerely reassuring them everything’s fine, there’s always an air of caution whenever you’re in the elevator. That’s just the reality of dating the literal... well, physical embodiment of evil.

God forbid you’re bullied or picked on, because Folly won’t intervene, she promises. You can handle it yourself; you’re strong in your own ways! Stick up for yourself. Oh, she definitely won’t be visiting specific people in their sleep tonight. Not at all. In fact, when has she EVER done that? Nightmare parasite? What are you talking about!?

Y’know how outdoor pets will visit their caregivers with ‘gifts’ consisting of dead rodents? Folly does this and finds it amusing—actually it’s the funniest thing in the world watching your reaction as you open the door to another mess you have to clean. Can you at least PRETEND to enjoy it? She worked hard on it! (no she didn’t…)

#regretevator #regretevator x reader #regretevator folly #folly #regretevator folly x reader #folly x reader #folly x reader regretevator #i love folly i love folly btw heyyy did y’all know. haaaaahsbd

[mommyghostface28]

Okay, this might be a very stupid question, and it makes me feel very awkward, but I hope you can give me some advice?

So I know how to eat a girl out, it's not really that hard but.. how do I curl my fingers inside of her so that she gets the max of pleasure and I rub her g spot? I always hear or read about "curling the fingers" But.. what does that mean? Is there a technique? Like, do I curl my fingers up while pumping in, or do I curl them up when I pump out? Is it my whole finger or just the upper half that needs to be curled up, basically like a "C" form?

I'm in an ldr, and we're meeting up soon. I just wanna be prepared to be the best as possible in bed (it's my first girlfriend and I'm inexperienced af)

That's so embarrassing, I'm sorry. I'm really really REALLY sorry...

hi there love! Not a silly question! Let’s see if I can help make some sense of it. It’s essentially a “come here” motion with your fingers. Whichever one, or two, fingers you use. You’re going to slide your fingers in, curl, and pull out. As you’re pulling out your fingers are strengthening out when you pass the g spot. Repeat. It’s a singular motion almost. I will say, you might not get as much “curl” as some people make it seem. In fact depending on how tight she is, you might not get any wiggle room to curl. So instead what you’ll do, is you’ll slide your fingers in, then with the pads of your fingers, push up or “pulse” your fingertips. Almost like you’re tapping. Tap up. Not hard, but firmly. You’ll start to feel the g spot swell, when you feel that, pulse your fingers. As quickly or as slow as you want is dependent on what she enjoys.

Make sure you give the g spot time in between. It makes for a bigger orgasm 🤭 good luck!

#wlw nsft #wlw ns/fw #nsft wlw #lesbian nsft #sapphic nsft #nsft lesbian #bd/sm mommy #wlw domme #lesbian #sapphic ns/fw #sapphic ns/ft #nsft sapphic

[halfdeadsage]

Hi! I just read through your post defending Logan (I reblogged it with a kinda-long addition haha) and I just wanted to say thank you for putting that out there. I hadn't done all the research or known any of the specifics, I just knew about his insane ability and potential. I love that you said you'd defend him with your life, because I feel the exact same way. I feel like there's so much power in your post, if that makes sense... it's one thing to see reblogs of logan videos with captions saying "how could you hate him 😢" and stuff (which no hate to anyone who does, I'm guilty of doing this too and I don't think there's anything wrong with it!!) But I just think it's so special and so important that you actually went out of your way to do the research, learn the info, and share and demonstrate just how remarkable he really is.

I'm sorry this ended up being so long!! All this to say, truly thank you so much for defending him, and honestly I'd love to be your friend because you seem like such an amazing person and I need more LS2 defender friends 😅

I hope you have a great day 🫶🏻

hi !! thank you so much for your kind words , this was so lovely to read in response to my logan post 🥹 i genuinely did not expect it to gain as much traction as it did , i was just upset one day and decided i needed to write that post about him so that others can gain some perspective on him and his situation . and i fully agree about what you said concerning reblogs of logan videos !! yes i agree , there's nothing wrong with reblogging videos / photos of him and captioning them "how could you hate him :(" because i , too , have done the same ! but not everything knows the full scope and extent of his career and talent capabilities , hence the need for further explanation on why we could never hate him . logan haters see posts about logan with captions like "how could you hate him :(" and don't get an explanation for why he's better than everyone thinks . often times , they end up thinking we just love him because he's cute and has a good personality -- which he does , and i love that about him !! but there's more to him than just those things , and understanding WHY he's a good driver and WHY we love him outside of the surface level version of him we've seen thus far in f1 is so so so important .

and it becomes especially important when logan haters only see his career in f1 so far and don't see the little wins he's had along the way . they focus solely on his crashes , the "destructor's championship" , and how alex is doing in comparison to him . they seem to forget that alex has been in formula 1 longer than logan . they seem to forget the hardships that alex had -- must i remind us of his redbull years ?? they seem to forget that alex has had more time to develop his skill and become a better driver than logan . and it's such a frustrating thing , because logan is then immediately credited as a "bad driver" when he's nothing of the sort !! he just needs support from his team , the proper amount of experience before getting into f1 (though by now that's a little too late because of how quickly williams jumped him up to f1) , and he needs to be getting the same upgrades as his teammate ???? it's genuinely ridiculous that they're having him drive a car that's heavier and has outdated (2023 !!!) parts and expect him to do as well as his teammate who has a MUCH lighter car and new parts .

and no worries about your message being long !! i'm sorry that my response ended up being super long , too , haha -- i am just so so passionate about people knowing drivers' past before they jump to conclusions and hate on them . the drivers in f1 are there for a reason and they're the top 20 in the world . they were chosen for a reason . that means that logan sargeant was chosen for a reason , and they're treating him like crap currently . williams needs to shape up so that logan can start showing the most of his potential and show how good of a driver he is , rather than constantly being pushed out of a moving car onto the highway -- aka what they're doing to him now !!!

i would love to be your friend , too !! i love making new friends who love logan the same way i do , and who have the same interest in formula 1 as me !! just send me a dm :))

you have a wonderful day, too !! <3

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #logan sargeant #williams racing #logan sargeant rants #logie bear #logie sargeant #logie sarge <3

[greenqueenhightower]

Thoughts on the new Alicole leaks:

First off, part of me is internally screaming as an Alicole girlie, at the same time my Rhaenicent ship is begging for attention, I’m born to suffer I guess.

Second, it would be a total plot twist if alicole actually happens HOWEVER my knowledge and understanding of the characters of Alicent and Criston from S1 doesn’t see how it’s possible? Like Alicent would never think/dare/care to sleep with someone outside of marriage because of her devotion to duty and the same applies to Criston whose honor is being manifested and earned as her sworn protector. He literally tried to kill himself because he had stained his white cloak and now he does it again? I don’t see how it’s possible as of yet, maybe the mental time jump from S1 Ep10 to S2 Ep1 is too much at the moment. I really do hope that if Alicole happens there is some narrative coherence between what we saw, understood and believed in S1 and what’s coming in S2. I want to know what is that narrative force that moves Alicent and Criston to take that important step and move beyond the duty/sacrifice/restraint that we saw them have in S1.

Sometimes reading the spoilers and speculations for S2 and learning about the writing choices feels that the writers didn’t go for a continuation of what we’ve seen, but for a way to get a new wave of viewers for S2 which is interesting, as long as the narrative choices make sense and give depth to—rather than reinvent—the characters we know.

#anyway I’m dying to see what they do with it #but I am pretty confused atm ngl #alicole #alicent x criston #criston x alicent #alicent hightower #ser criston cole #criston cole #hotd #hotd s2 #hotd season 2 #house of the dragon #hotd speculation #greenqueenhightower #hotd thoughts #hotd leaks #hotd spoilers #team green

[dangermousie]

Your JoL posts have been amazing. I've loved posting my thoughts on them at times.

What do you think are Qing di's intentions about Fan Xian? Does he intend to let him succeed him as the emperor?

Thank you!!! I am so obsessed with this drama - to find something that is super smart AND emotionally engrossing at the same time is super rare but this really hits the spot for me.

Re: the emperor. You know, it wouldn’t surprise me if the emperor despite his brains is like many otherwise brilliant absolute rulers and doesn’t truly believe there will be an end to his rule and that he’s bound by mortality (think of England’s Elizabeth I, an amazing ruler who refused to even contemplate appointing heirs properly because it would mean her reign would end sometimes. Or Louis XIV of France who fought half of Europe and built Versailles and ruled for over 70 years and supposedly said “apres moi le deluge.” Or even the founder of the Qin Dynasty who was the first to unite China and yet was so obsessed with immortality his hastened his death taking mercury elixirs.)

I honestly wonder if some of his obsession with finding the Divine Temple isn’t just to get whatever weapons and secrets it may have or even see if he can take down something he can’t control but to see if there is a way to prolong life. If my theory that he’s a grandmaster is correct and Grandmaster Ye said other grandmasters don’t view themselves as human any more then why not escape the human limitation of death too?

But even if that’s not the case, I do not think he’s grooming Fan Xian to take over. First logistics - he’d have to appoint him on his deathbed because there ain’t no way he’s making him a Crown Prince and it’s not because he’s not in the royal family formally (face it, if the emperor wanted to manipulate things so Fan Xian never formally becomes a Fan and is somehow taken into the imperial family, he’d figure it out) or because to remove an appointed crown prince and son of the empress at that is a big deal (because ditto.)

It’s because the Emperor will never allow his Crown Prince to be someone TOO talented, it’s too much of a threat. Crown Prince is bloody minded enough to be an emperor but he’s only the third smartest out of his five sons (and frankly, third Prince is so young the jury is out on how smart the kid is so maybe he’d be smarter too.) Emperor wants someone he can control without expending titanic effort on the matter. Not someone with too many of his own ideas and a way of getting them rammed through.

The emperor is fond of Fan Xian insofar as it’s possible for him to be fond of anyone (which ain’t much - you get the sense he had more of that capacity when young though even there nothing mattered as much as power; if he’s 100% not related to FX’s mom’s death in any capacity I will be shocked) but as his comment in that pitchpot scene after CPP left indicates, to him strong feelings are a nuisance and stupidity and burden. So he’s fond when it costs him nothing important and is even beneficial but the moment Fan Xian steps out of line enough to be an issue or, even worse, the moment he decides he can’t control Fan Xian, he would not hesitate to murder him, fondness or not (in a way, FX loving so many people so much is Fan Xian’s safety - look how many levers the Fans and Wan’er let alone his followers like WQN give the emperor.) Actually, Fan Xian doesn’t even have to do anything super wrong; if the emperor thought it would give him a big enough advantage, he’d probably murder all his kids on the walls of the palace on the “I can make more” principle a la the father of William Marshal.

Ok I blabbed a whole novel but short version: I’d be surprised if he’s grooming Fan Xian to be the next emperor which is just as well since FX would be miserable as one and I hope at the end he gets his wish to live a joyful life traveling the world with Wan’er and enjoying the peace with his family.

Ultimately, I think the emperor wants to use him like he uses everyone and everything to achieve his goals and make his reign stronger and his kingdom stronger and balance the other princes in a stalemate (if his children fight with each other they are too busy to fight him) and just use him use him use him to the utmost just how he does with everyone else.

#cdrama #asks #joy of life 2 #joy of life

[x-liv25-jamieswife]

can i request hawthorne headcannons pls :)

hawthorne brothers head canons

hi! i think by this you mean hawthorne brothers so thats what im gonna do, but if you wanted smth else, feel free to request it. @ariscats helped with this one. hope you like them <3.

they absolutely love watching friends together. growing up, every friday night, they'd all make time to get together and watch a few episodes. avery, libby, and max joined their watch parties after ave inherited the money.

when they were kids, they once fought over which brother was the best. they all ended up making powerpoints about it and presenting them to each other (xander ended up winning bc he came up with some really fucking smart shit).

xander used to invite his brothers for tea parties at their treehouse. jamie, gray, and nash knew this meant a lot to xander so they always showed up even when they didn't want to.

xander once made his brothers sit through an entire speech where he just ranted about his favorite book boyfriends.

xander buys all of his brothers flowers every once in a while bc boys deserve to get flowers too.

jameson is usually the one who planned each other brother's birthday parties. whenever other people try to plan it, he comes in, says that his brothers deserve smth big and extragavant, kicks everyone out, and does it himself (no he doesn't end up pranking them. he genuinely comes up with things he knows his brothers would like and stuff)

we all know they have a 911, but they also have something called he 119 (or idk anything works) which they can use as many times as they want and its to tell their brothers that they wish to be alone.

for this to make sense, i hc that jameson loves the wear jewelry (rings, chain necklaces, etc). for jamie's 16th birthday, all of his brothers got him a customized ring with their initials engraved on the inside alongside 'i love you'. its quite simple for a hawthorne gift, but it meant a lot to him (bc tobias convinced him he's worthless) and it's now become his favorite ring (he never takes it off)

grayson's favorite painting he's made is a painting of all of his brothers at the beach having fun in the water. the picture he based himself off of to make the painting dated from before things went to shit with emily which is one of the reasons he loves the painting so much.

they always tease nash bc he's the shortest. sometimes he'll be getting smth off of a shelf (which he can reach perfectly fine), and xander or one of the others will pop up and be like 'let us help you, brother, we know you can't reach high places by yourself'

for halloween, one year, the three youngest ones dressed up as alvin and the chipmunks and nash dressed up as the old man who takes care of them in the movie (i forgot his name)

grayson had a phase where he hated taylor swift and nash and xander (even jameson) were horrified. they spent weeks converting him into a swiftie and it worked. gray is now ashamed of his taylor hater era.

when avery and jameson were in their like friends with benefits era in the hawthorne legacy, nash and xander would not leave him alone. they'd constantly be like 'you dumb fuck, you obviously have feelings for her' and he'd be like 'nah yall are crazy' (grayson was too busy ignoring his feelings)

jameson and grayson used to want to celebrate their birthdays at the same time (like one half of the house was decorated for jamie and the other for gray for two days) when they were younger, but, after emily started tearing them apart, they started to distance themselves from one another and stopped celebrating their bdays together (i think it was mentioned in tbh that they hated having their bdays so close to one another but im choosing to ignore that). for jamie's 20th bday (and gray's 21st), they decided to celebrate together again and xander and nash cried.

xander, jamie, and gray once found nash grinding against a pole (basically pole dancing) to i can fix him (no really i can) by taylor swift. they filmed it and sent the video to libby. they now play it at every single one of his bdays (and his wedding).

gray, xander, and nash filmed jamie a video for his birthday where they just yapped about how amazing he is and how much they love him. jameson managed to keep it together until he went up to his room for the night and started sobbing. his brothers found him and tried to comfort him. that entire day is like a core memory for them.

so this is a libby hc but my moot came up with it and i just couldn't not include it. avery and jameson are libby and nash's first kid's god parents. the kid is named sarah after what libby knew avery's mom as. even after she found out it wasn't her real name, she couldn'y bring herself to change her mind bc she decided on this name when she was nine. anyways, all of the brothers (and avery and max) will babysit the kid and gift her the loudest toys in existence just to piss of nash and libby.

when jamie started to self-destruct after emily, xander and him started to drift apart (they were very very close before it). they used to hang out all of the time, but, after emily, didn't really speak for almost a year. this is one of the reasons why xander accepted tobias request when he asked him to overlook the games in tig. he thought it would be an opportunity to get closer with jameson again.

when they were younger (not nash bc he was older), the youngest ones used to have a color for gifts if that makes sense. like all of jamie's gifts would be green, gray's would be grey, and xander's would be red (he gives off red energy). no one explicitly said they wanted the color, but it sort of just became a thing.

there's a dumb song in how i met your mother called nothing suits me like a suit. jamie and xander made it gray's ring tone (for calls, alarms, etc), and xan programmed it in a way that makes it impossible for gray to change it (only xan can).

#the inheritance games #jameson hawthorne #avery grambs #grayson hawthorne #nash hawthorne #libby grambs #xander hawthorne #maxine liu #tobias hawthorne

[watchingblsnowandforever]

Hello!!

The crack post saga continues... =D

Warning: long, long post 😊😅

To be very honest though, for today's ep I will be getting serious more than usual, because it was quite significant in the flow of the plot, and also had moments of communication (this emotional constipation is what makes me yearn for Cherry Magic ah) that need to be studied a little closely.

HOWEVER, there will most definitely be crack because this group of friends is (unapologetically) batshit crazy and my brain refuses to not make comments at the most inappropriate times.

Peem: NO ONE SAW ME CUDDLING MY CRUSH TO SLEEP RIGHT?!

The sheer panic in his movements, oh my gods. It should not be as hilarious as it is 😭😂

To be very honest though, I would've panicked a bit in his place too, with friends like those, they'd never let him live it down

Peem is so cute 😭

Nothing to see here, just a guy getting shy over how his prince charming hom-ed him, and they kissed through his hand and cuddled all night hehe

Phum: here he comes again :) *eye twitch*

Peem's expression, how he's still holding his hands as if he has the cup, Kluen's disbelief, and Phum's smug af face-

I'm wheezing 😭🤣

Kluen, I'm kinda starting to like you, but no.

You don't stand half a chance against them and their situationship.

Hope you find another boyfriend to fall in love at first sight with (and leave my boys alone please, they don't need any more complications) <3

Oh, Fang knows too. Of course he does, that's his little brother right there

We all know how protective of his brother he is, there's no way he'd let anybody else take care of him... unless, he knew Phum liked that person

les voila

Poor Tan, his theerak just ignoring him T-T

*looks between them* yeah, pretty much the same pic 👀

And here it is. The root of all his fears.

See, in this camp, almost all of them are paired up in the sense that they usually stick to that person. Even Beer has MIck. But then comes wild card Kluen, who's hogging all of Peem's attention as much as he can and that leaves Phum. Alone.

I will be getting back to this running motif of Phum being alone and how it changes through the ep in later scenes as well

Also, after they went back, both Mick and Beer asked if he really was okay, which made me smile, because maybe, Phum isn't as alone as he thinks himself to be. There are people who care for him, who are concerned, who'll support him, and of course, he always has Fang, his beloved phi

My poor babie Tan 🥺🥺

Also, notice how the shot is taken in such a way that they're the only ones in the frame, and are also standing within one specific part of the wall? (Ignore Kluen's head and hands please). It reflects how they're in their own world with each other, especially Tan

The nosy peeps gang strikes again!

Jokes aside, the synchronised strides, the background music together set the perfect levels of suspense and comedy

Peem, smug: yes! that emotionally constipated dumbass is finally getting out of De Nile

Pun: wait... is my plan actually working? Ah, of course it is

Toey: head empty, no thoughts, but... DOES P'Q ACTUALLY LIKE ME OMG I'LL DIE

Oh gods, FINALLY. I wish them a happily ever after. Sadhu 😌🙏🏼

Pun forgetting all about being quiet when Toey finally confesses is so on character 😭👍🏼

Also... what's even the point of being quiet? Q and Chain have been friends with these idiots since high school, of course they know they're peeking

Toey: *shooketh*

Gays in thai bl and staring off into the distance 😭

This scene was so, so beautiful and also quite important for both Q and Toey

Q knew what was up, more or less, but his confusion stemmed from his knowledge of Toey

Would Toey really go to these lengths? For him?

"Why? Are you the only one who can tease me?" <- Q says this to tell Toey that he might have been angry, but now he understands that Toey didn't really have any bad intentions

Hugs always get bonus points from me, and this was pretty up there

Pun hiding behind Chain is so on point

His friends: you're an idiot so we had no choice but to intervene 😭😭

Matt's (JJ) comedic timing is >>>>>>

Toey and Matt's friendship is also given weight in the series, and I'm happier for it.

Also revenge is sweet ehehe *coughs*

Moving on.

If there's no live singing dedicated to your One True Love, is it even Thai BL??

We Are making generous use of MSP songs 😭👍🏼

This scene.

The apology. It is at this point that they're leaving all the past pain, grief and anger in the past

Q makes sure to tell Toey that yes, he may have loved Milk Frappe Boy, but now, in the present, all his love was for Toey, his lovable annoying mentee

This apology is not only to Toey, or Milk Frappe Boy, but to himself as well, because by causing pain to a person he loves twice, he'd caused himself pain too

The perfect sweet and romantic moment, but also with a teeny bit of teasing, because that's who they are

No joke, I gasped and nearly stopped breathing when he said this

Peem's reply, his soft but kind of hurt voice were just so painful to hear

But it's also this moment that Peem gives Phum a reality check – if he really didn't want to, he wouldn't be doing any of this, and Phum had no business trying to control his life

The conversation outside with Q was significant, but also a diluted reflection of Peem's earlier (in ep. 7) talk with Q

Even a few episodes earlier, Q would have gone ballistic on Phum for treating his bestie like this, but now, he asks Peem how he feels for Phum, tries to understand exactly what their relationship is

It was at this point that he knew, he fucked up

Beer is a godsent. I love him <3

I think Toey says "I asked hia Tan to blow it up for me."

Also, Tiw and his rubber duck floater from MSP anyone? 👀

And, we are back to square one where Phum is left alone again

As I'd said before, this a repeating motif throughout the series, but especially the last two episodes

This is how it has always been in Phum's life: he has been left behind. He does have Fang, but now even Fang has a boyfriend. And while this does not affect his brother's affection towards him in anyway, it does introduce a new strand of lonliness for Phum because 1. no matter what, he loves his brother a lot, and knows how much he loves Tan, so he definitely will try to stay out of their way at least sometimes and 2. he wants a boyfriend too. Further, he wants Peem, but there's a push and pull there, and after what he said, in his mind he had pretty much ruined his chances with his crush

This is the moment Phum starts to hope that maybe, just maybe, his feelings aren't as unrequited as he'd thought.

On the other hand, Peem is the one afraid here. What if the deal is all that's holding them together? What if without it, Phum will have no reason to be as close to him?

Peem, baby, for one, your groups are already merged, and secondly, this guy is head over heels for you, no way he'd stop following you like a lost puppy

(Apparently, it's not Peem's turn with the communal braincell this week 😭)

Here, Phum is technically alone, but he's surrounded with friends, and he's smiling

He isn't left behind here, for once, he's sitting there by choice (to shamelessly ogle his crush, but shh we don't talk about that) with the comforting knowledge that when/if he jumps in, he won't be left out, Kluen be damned

Once the floodgates of affection have been opened to Q, there's no going back <3

(Also, notice how Tan is already asleep on Fang's shoulder? 👀)

FINALLY

I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT SINCE PEEM KICKED PHUM'S BALLS

Jokes apart, this moment is so, so beautiful. The kiss, the soft question "are you ready for my answer now?" (maybe Peem isn't, but hell if he denies this man his kissies).

Everything leading up to this point is also so very delightful

Phum helping them out in the cafe, despite probably having never worked a day in his life, discovering how Peem still kept the roses and finally, finally, the completed painting. This sight, above all, is what convinces Phum that Peem might have feelings for him after all; because which fool would lie about not having completed something that would free them from being a slave to someone? A fool in love, that's who

ALSO,

if they don't get together and have the fluffiest moments in the next ep, I swear to god, hands will be thrown *grumbles* they're already making me wait a whole damn week

Anyways, that's all for this week, see you next ep! (I cannot promise I won't be jumping around and screaming, but then again, this is supposed to be a crack post so-)

And if you made it this far, thank you so much for reading! 😊

Here, have a bubble tea and a sandwich 🧋🥪

[If you'd like, here are my previous posts: Ep 8 and Ep 9.]

#we are the series #we are series #we are #watching bls: we are #let's talk bl #phumpeem #qtoey #tanfang #chainpun #thai bl

[dragonfly0808]

Sky: The Thesis

This has been the most difficult thesis for me to write, I just don’t always know how to explain just what I wanted to do with Sky and I really hope I did manage to properly convey this here

So, here goes nothing, also, MAYOR SPOILERS FOR A WHOLE LOT OF PLOT POINTS, DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVEN’T READ AT UP TILL S4 CH 22 IF YOU DON’T WANT SPOILERS FOR SKY’S CHARACTER

First Things First

From the very start I knew I wanted Sky to suffer. Just joking (kinda).

 I know that in the OG he could ocasionaly come across as insufferable and I really did not want that.

I chose to give Sky somewhat of a ‘sins of the father’ kinda narration. Sky bears the burden of his father’s crime. His main objective in life is to fix what his dad broke.

From a young age Sky realized that it would be up to him to save Eraklyon from his family line, a duty that he takes very seriously.

Sky has an absent mother and a father that never truly saw him, he saw the way his dad’s betrayl destroyed him and he is determined to never suffer the same fate.

Sky blames himself for pretty much everything in existence, a situation that is not helped either by the duty of acting as King since 15 and actually becoming King at 18 + all the stuff that has happened in the rewrite.

Sky’s main trait and his main objective revolve around redemption, at first, the redemption of his bloodline and of Eraklyon and, later on, his own redemption.

Tried to Bargain with the Stars for More Than Half Your Heart

Sky is stuck from a very young age in this in between place of being the son of destruction and the hope for redemption.

He is partially desperate to be seen as something more, as who he could have been if he’d been the son of anyone else, which is why, when he makes his first true friend (or more accurately his first friend with no royal ties), Brandon, he finds some solace

This is also part of the reason why the switcharoo happens. Yes, it happens mostly for safety reasons, but Sky does take the opportunity to know what it is like to be treated like anyone else

In S1 we see him with a lot of built up frustration over not being able to help his planet and being dismissed by his father, which eventually results in his falling out with Riven

Sky’s frustration is born from a helplessness, he’s not allowed to do anything for his planet nor for himself. The only way he’s told he can help his planet early on in the rewrite is by marrying Diaspro and giving up the chance to marry for love, which obviously causes a bit on anger and resentment which can explain (but not fully justify) some of his attitude in season 1

Sky wishes to be seen and loved for who he is and not ‘in spite’ of his family’s past crimes.

I Can Run But I Can’t Hide From my Family Line

Sky’s greatest fear is turning out like his father, being unable to escape the generational curse of cowardice and betrayl.

We see him at his lowest when Valtor curses him, causing him to undergo his greatest fear, being like his father.

Right before the curse, we see him prioritize Eraklyon and his friends, asking Diaspro to kill both him and his father to prevent any harm from being done if they are cursed, which Diaspro can’t go through with it

Sky has a love/hate relationship with his father, between everything that he did that Sky feels responsible for repairing and also the fact that, after betraying Domino, Erendor was never the same and simply not that great a father to Sky, he tried, but never enough

Sky desperately wants to see the man his father was before, the man who seemed so happy next to Orion and Radius in portraits and pictures, the man his generals have told stories about. But he never gets even a glimpse of who his dad was before, which just causes a bigger rift between the two

Erendor thinks there is nothing left for him, no redemption and no real hope for the future, he gives up, this in part, impacts Sky in the sense that, he is someone who will always cling on to the hope of redemption and who will never back down nor give up

Sky is absolutely determined to keep going, he’s not always sure how he’ll do it, but he knows what giving up does to a person and he doesn’t want that for himself.

Castles Crumbling (You Don’t Wanna Know me Now)

Season 4 Sky is in shambles but he will not let anyone see it.

As I’ve said before, Sky carries the weight of both things that he was responsible for and things that weren’t his fault with equal guilt

In S4, Sky struggles with the sense that he doesn’t deserve forgivness nor does he deserve help in his struggles or pain, his thought is ‘I caused them enough pain and troubles, I shouldn’t burden them with my pain’

Sky is low-key having a months long breakdown, no longer sure of who he is or who he will become, feeling partially isolated in the squad. Valtor took something from him, took his confidence that he would never be like his father, that he would never forget the mistakes of the past

Even if he was cursed and not fully in control, Sky doesn’t see it that way, he still sees everything he did while under the curse as his own failure and as a betrayl to both his friends and to himself since he’d always been adamant about promising himself to never be like his father

Everything that Sky truly has is himself. Eraklyon, the crown, all of that is an inheritance stained by his father’s past. The only thing to truly belong to himself is the determination to right past wrongs, and, by being forced into making choices more aligned with his father than with himself, it truly breaks a part of Sky

We’ll see in his arc in S4 that he is very haunted by the idea of his father and wondering what could have been if Erendor had been just a little bit different

I’m really excited to explore a bit more of his mentality and see how his view of himself slowly changes through the healing of a few of his relationships, specifically with Flora and Bloom

Sky embraces the weight of the crown and is, at his core a very selfless and guilt-ridden person. If he could have it his way, he’d study architecture and lead a quiet life, but he will never try to pursue that life until he feels he has achieved giving Eraklyon peace, and even then he’d probably still feel a sense of responsibility to stay on the throne to ensure peace remains

Thoughts Behind His Main Relationships

Brandon

Brandon is Sky’s very first non-royal friend, they meet at 13 and Sky feels like he can just breath around him, Brandon was the first person from Eraklyon Sky felt safe enough to let his guard down around and he really helped him in becoming a socially functioning person since up until then he really only knew how to interact at balls and formal events or with Stella

But Brandon doesn’t just give Sky a friend, but a whole family. Brandon has a huge heart and a big family, the second he realized that Sky’s family was not like his own, he made sure to integrate Sky into his family.

They see each other as siblings, Sky absolutely sees Brandon’s sisters as his own (especially Alexa) and Brandon’s parents are Sky’s parents. They give him a safe space and the kind of unconditional love Sky had never known

Brandon and Sky are both very dedicated and strong-willed, they push each other to be better and, one of Sky’s favorite things about Brandon is that he doesn’t care about Sky’s royal status, if Sky does something stupid, Brandon will let him know and will tease him

Their friendship is one of absolute trust and brotherhood. They see each other at their lowest and never think for even a second to leave each other

Sky is one of Brandon’s biggest supporter once he’s back in regaining movement in his hand and there is no one else he could even think of to be his right-hand man and be right there with him as he becomes King

And, while Brandon is partially impacted and saddened when he learns of Sky’s choices when cursed, he never doubts that it wasn’t technically Sky truly and knows he will forgive him, because that’s his brother.

They are brothers, they could destroy each other and they’d still love one another, they could end each other, they’d forgive one another. What other word could possibly describe their relationship?

Bloom

They are a friends to lovers situation. From the moment they meet they are quite soft with each other and I think it took them a second to develop a crush but it happened quite organically, nothing dramatic just being like ‘huh, everytime I see you I like you more and more and I’d like to get to know you even better’.

However, after Darkar and Valtor, their relationship is at a standstill. They both have too much on their minds and find themselves tortured by their own thoughts and weights far too heavy for their ages resting on their shoulders

I feel like Sky and Bloom’s relationship is a tragedy, but like, a tragedy because of the narration ya know? Like there are these two kids who for all intents and purposes would’ve known each other their whole lives if Domino hadn’t fallen. Who care about each other so much and just want to be there for each other but have also hurt each other (for Sky, it’s his bloodline that hurt Bloom, for Bloom, it’s the very loyalty that Sky loves that winds up hurting him when Bloom choses a side).

Their tragedy is one of; I love you so much but the universe keeps fucking us over and revealing things that make me wonder if we truly can love each other and be together without another wave of hurt falling upon us.

Their tragedy in s4 converts into one of; I love you but I don’t know if there is room in my mind for that love anymore. I love you but I’m not sure if I even know you anymore. I’ll always love you but I don’t know what to do with that love anymore.

Can two people grow apart and them grow closer once more? Can you forgive that it wasn’t you I hurt? Can you forgive the side I chose wasn’t yours? Can we be friends again? Can we try? Would you like to try?

Their love of each other is pure, it’s just a question of whether or not it can survive all the bullshit the universe keeps throwing at them.

Stella

Sky and Stella have known each other since birth. They’ve been best friends since they were less than two years old and have always had each other’s back.

One of the major changes I made to season 1 was having Stella know about the switcharoo between Sky and Brandon, mostly because, since she’s known Sky her whole life, they couldn’t really keep it a secret from her.

This formed a dynamic for the trio and made them the closest subunit in season 1 since they’ve known each other the longest.

Stella and Sky are two kids who bonded as kids but continued to deepen their bond as they both realized the weight on their shoulders due to being the future rulers of their respective planets.

These two are definetely siblings. They both had somewhat strict mothers so when together, they love to get to just be goofy teenagers. Their friendship is one of ‘We both have so much to do and a lot of weight on our shoulders but when we’re together we can let go and try to trip each other into a fountain for the fun of it and stick out our tongues just because we can and I know you’d never get mad at me over something like that. But you know that if you even need anything I will be right here and nothing will stop me from helping you.’

Stella utterly and fully believes in Sky, she sees right through him and is perhaps the only one who truly knows just how deeply Sky’s eternal guilt runs

Sky can see through Stella just the same, and for a long time, was the only one that was even aware of just how insecure Stella once was deep down

Who is Sky in this Rewrite?

Sky is a good man but a bad son.

Sky is a boy king bearing the weight of past crimes and sins and of his home planet on his shoulders.

He is a boy whose greatest fears came true and he cannot forgive himself for not being strong enough to prevent that from happening. To keep from betraying himself and everything he stands for.

Sky is someone who is ultimately selfless and with a well of guilt deep in his gut that sometimes won’t allow him to breath

Sky is someone who, in a short 3 years has kind of lost himself. He knows what he wishes his life were, he knows what his life must be, but he no longer knows quite who he is, if perhaps he was partially playing a role in fear of what would collapse if he were to stop

Sky is someone who is trying to not only be forgiven but also to forgive himself

Sky is someone determined to not repeat the mistakes of the past and someone determined to redeem his planet and himself

Sky is someone terrified of himself. Of who he could become if he were unable to run from his bloodline, if he is unable to keep himself from turning into his father

He is someone who feels like an outsider and an imposter within his own friend group. He was made into an outsider by circumstances out of his control but somehow, he is the one who keeps himself at the border, even when everyone else has begun to move on and forgive him

—————————

Masterlist

Sky Moodboard

Sky’s Instagram

Sky and Brandon Moodboard

Sky and Bloom Moodboard

Sky and Stella Moodboard

#winx club #winx rewrite #winx #winx headcannon #winx fanfic #winx headcanons #winx sky #winx bloom #winx stella #winx brandon #Winx rewrite #veiled wings and shattered panoramas

[quibbs126]

Heya! Can you do Dark Choco Cookie and Cotton Cookie child?

So I originally misread Cotton as Cotton Candy (especially since not everyone includes the Cookie part of the name), and I’m not doing Dark Choco/Cotton, so Dark Choco/Cotton Candy it is

Anyways, this is Bubble Choco Cookie

So Bubble Choco here is somewhere in his teens, and he’s an avid poet. However he does not want anyone to read his poems, and will make sure you don’t touch his poetry journal. They’re mostly edgy or sad and they aren’t the best, but it’s how he expresses himself. He’ll just pull out his journal and pencil at random times and start writing

When he was younger, he used to be a lot more cheerful and bubbly, but as he entered his teen years, he started to act more rebellious and “dark”. He never quite gave up his fashion sense though, with his main changes just being that he wears some darker shades

He is also very fond of chocolate, specifically the aerated kind

Okay I’m gonna be honest, I don’t have much for him other than the poet angle. I just kind of decided to finally start drawing him

I also recognize that he has very little of Dark Choco in his character, as well as design, but that’s in part because of the way I envisioned this ship. For one thing, it’s in Ovenbreak so no Dark Cacao Kingdom here, Dark Choco probably just lives with Cotton Candy, and also, it’s a wholesome ship, their kid doesn’t need that much angst. And he’s a poet instead of a fighter, and if he doesn’t want to fight, I don’t see any reason for Dark Choco to teach him; Cotton Candy doesn’t seem to live in an area that requires much sword fighting or the like

Anyways, on to design stuff

So Bubble Choco is based on aerated chocolate, since it’s like a really light chocolate, and cotton candy is also light (I’m talking weight btw). Also, I’ve eaten this kind of chocolate before (I quite enjoy Aero bars), and I quite like it

I think another name I was considering was Air Choco, since it’s closer to the actual name of the ingredient, but Bubble Choco works better as a name

Aerated chocolate:

So as I said earlier, I kind of made him for the sake of making him and doing more of these, so there wasn’t a super big amount of thought out into him. I do still like how he turned out though

All I really had to go on initially was the poet angle (I didn’t even reread my old notes), and I wasn’t really sure where to go with his personality until I started tweaking his expression. He was also originally going to be a girl but somewhere in development I decided “eh, why not have him be a boy?” and there you have it

I also knew I wanted him to have black poofy hair with things in it. It was originally more of a curved line in between the ends, but I changed it when I looked at Cotton Candy’s hair more. Though I kind of wish I had kept it now. There was also an old concept I mad ages ago that also had that hair, but it was longer. Don’t know why it’s this current length

After doing the hair, I wasn’t really sure what to do with the outfit, and I kind of just made something up as I went. He’s got the poofy ends of his jacket because of the whole “bubble” thing. I wanted to give him more poofy stuff

His colors are brown and light green become the Aero bars I usually see are regular chocolate (brown) and mint (light green). The pink was added to there’d be a little more color variation

As for the thing in his eye, it’s because of Cotton Candy’s heart eyes and me liking to put stuff in the eyes in place of that. Bubble Choco’s eye thing is supposed to be a sort of reference to Dark Choco with his star, though I didn’t bother to curve it out. And as I realize now, the eye I chose is also his missing eye and the star eye of the SoD. I’d like to claim that was intentional, but it wasn’t

And anyways yeah, there you have it. Bubble Choco. Don’t really have much else to say other than I hope you enjoyed him

#finally another fankid made #and I’m also realizing there’s a few I haven’t released because I either never got around to finishing the desc #or I was meandering on saying they were finished and haven’t done their sketches #but they’re complete enough for me to skim over them when I scroll #eh I’ll deal with those another time #cookie run #cookie run ovenbreak #dark choco cookie #cotton candy cookie #fankid #fanchild #cookie run oc #bubble choco cookie #my ocs #my art #requests #answers