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arieswritez · 5 months

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yandere mark nsfw alphabet😳😳 loved the idea

cw; DARK CONTENT! MDNI!!! rape, breeding/baby trapping, dacryphilia, asphyxiation, abusive 'relationships', edging, predator/prey dynamics, nipple play, kidnapping, food tampering, mentions of suicidal ideation, threats of violence, implied death, manipulation, victim blaming, branding, mentions of incapacitation.

about; nsfw alphabet ft. cray cray mark x gn! reader xx a/n; a couple of u asked for this so here it is :D not edited & straight off the dome so excuse any grammatical errors. will edit if necessary xx

A= Aftercare

'aftercare' with yandere mark is patronizing and condescending. a lot of shushing, wiping your tears, and asking why you're so upset. you asked for this with all your fucking cock teasing. it couldn't have been that bad, i mean, he did make you cum! why can't you just let good things happen to you? ;(

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers)

mark loves your eyes <3 it's the first thing he's noticed from you. how they seemed to gleam and widen while you gave him your undivided attention. he can't count the amounts of times he had to excuse himself and jack off in the bathroom: imagining how your eyes would water with his cock stuck down your throat. or the way your eyebrows would furrow while he jack hammered into you.

C= Cum

yan mark definitely likes marking you with his cum. he likes to see it dripping off your face, along your belly, your thighs, but most importantly, he loves it when he watches it drip out of you. whether you can get pregnant or not - and good luck if you can - there's just something primal about cumming inside of you. marking you in and out.

D= Dirty secret

he's a masochist just as much as he's a sadist. his little obsession with you caused him to get a tattoo of your name <3 right at his adonis belt 🥺 so everytime he's in too deep,, your hands desperately try to hold his hips back,, and your blunt nails dig into the curved lines of your name. it never fails to make his eyes roll into the back of his head 🫶🏽🤭

E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing)

canon typical mark is (was) a blushy lil virgin but yan!mark has a tad bit more experience. he's attractive, he's funny, he knows how to play into the slightly awkward charm that got you to lower your defenses. so it's safe to say it isn't hard to find random hookups every now and then.

it's not all about his experience. he just knows what you like.

you may not know it, but he's. . done his research. and by that i mean, he's logged into your computer or your phone and looked through your browser history. he knows what kind of porn you like. and some of those things are borderline freaky. here you are, acting all innocent, like you wouldn't hurt a fly. or high and mighty like no one would ever dare snuff out your flame.

who would've known you were such a desperate slut?

but that's okay! because he's willing to do anything to satisfy you. . or humiliate you by making you cum. he feels it takes you down a peg, when he pins you down and makes you cum even though you don't want to. even though your mind is racing a mile a minute, trying to hold your climax back while he plays with your clit/cock.

unbeknownst to you, he's watched you masturbate. knows the right amount of pressure & speed that gets your toes curling. he knows you so well & he can't wait to learn more about you 💕

F= Favorite position

mark loves watching you squirm beneath him. most importantly, he loves taking you down. he might even make you think you can get away. the chase, the constant cat and mouse you'd subject him to used to be torture. your teasing, the occasional sliver of skin as you stretched, the way you'd lay your head on his lap as the two of you watched television, the way you'd grin when he blushed. . and the wrestling. god, the play wrestling.

he used to let you win. but now. . now this is real. there's real consequences. so he makes you think you can kick him off while you flail. maybe even lets you get up and run. your elbows are all scuffed during the struggle and he's given you a busted lip, but he lets you think you've won.

god knows he'll catch up eventually.

the games he'd play made you cocky. you thought you were stronger than him instead of considering that it was just him playing nice. so he loves to watch the look of defeat, of deception, anger, and disappointment towards yourself when it's revealed he could've had his way with you all along.

he loves to be on top.

but sometimes,

sometimes,

he likes it when you're on top. some things never change. and lets just say he didn't always let you win play wrestling just because he was trying to be a gentleman. but because he liked the way your weight felt on top of him as you grinned triumphantly, pinning his wrists down.

now, of course, things have changed. he can't let you have all the control. pity. but he forces you to ride him: his hand wrapped around your throat. he could really hurt you if he so much as wanted to. . something he hisses into your ear whenever your pace so much as falters. he makes you work for it. and it takes longer to make him cum when you ride him. fear makes you clumsy, makes your legs shake more, and you're sore and achy and tired, which makes it all the more fun.

so i think his fave is when he forces you to be on top :)

G= Goofy (how serious are they)

yan!mark teases you a lot. comments on how many times he's made you cum, pinches your nipples just to hear you squeal. he's only ever quiet and serious when he's in a bad mood.

H= Hair

mark's trimmed but not necessarily shaved.

you, on the other hand, have to be shaved. not because he finds it unattractive (if anything, it makes him feral. makes him feel like you're something meant to be conquered, something to be domesticated. controlled.)

hence his decision to have you shaved at all times. it's about control.

he forces you into the bath tub and watches as you shave, making sure you're all pretty for him. no, you don't get a say in the matter. you're his little doll. he'll do whatever he wants to you.

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty)

mark is rough. depending on the situation, he may start off slower, softer, easing into you while his words are pure venom. he's grinding into you, making you hiccup, because this type of 'love making' should be reserved for couples. not whatever the two of you have got going on. but of course, he speeds up. roughing you up the more into it he gets.

he's rough regardless of who the object of his affection is, but he's definitely rougher if you're on the masculine side. yan!mark doesn't like to be challenged. he doesn't like talk back. he doesn't like you running around thinking you're big and bad. so he has to knock you down a peg. force you to understand he's stronger than you.

he chokes you out, squeezing your throat until your vision spots. he likes to watch your face change colors. and when your mouth opens, desperately trying to suck in air, he spits onto your tongue 💗

likes it when you - confident, and tough, walking like nothing can ever hurt you - beg him to let you go. beg him not to kill you.

because, sometimes, you fear he just might.

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)

he does! but when he gets you, there's really no need for that <3

when he hadn't kidnapped you, he'd masturbate all the time. it was the only way to relieve himself. like i rambled about before, he'd steal your underwear and cum into them, use them as tissues to wipe his abdomen clean.

secretly takes pictures of you - upskirts if you wear 'em,, or just candids. cums to your most mundane selfies.

if the two of you were close before he kidnapped you, debbie would send you all types of homemade treats. sweet or savory, whatever it was; you loved debbie's cooking. what you didn't know was that mark would add a little bit of his own . . twist to them. when you'd steal bites of his food, you always wondered why his tasted differently to yours.

and the way he'd stare at you as you ate, jesus.

you thought he just liked the way you'd wolf down whatever his mom cooked. turns out he just liked watching you eat his cum.

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)

BREEDING!!! whether you can get pregnant or not, he loves the idea of claiming you for a lifetime. of changing your life and forcing you to carry his child. watching you grow round and hormonal. he knows he'd have to keep you on a tight leash; lest you do something you'll regret in order to escape your fate. but it'll be worth it. because after nine months, you'll have another life to look after. you'll be on edge all the time, protecting a fragile, little life, because you can't trust mark to do it.

after all, if you're really bad, he can always get rid of it. start all over again. and you wouldn't want that, would you~?

dacryphilia.

there's nothing like watching you cry. when you'd confide in him about your troubles, when you'd cry on his shoulder, seek solace in his company for whatever reason, and cry. . it'd be really hard to hide his erection. the first time you let yourself cry in front of him was a day he'd never forget. he couldn't stop thinking about it since. wonders if you tear up when someone fucks you. (you do. you will)

L= Location (where they like to get it on)

mark doesn't care where he takes you as long as he's got you. it can be in public or not, just as long as he takes you to the secondary location he'll keep you prisoner in. if it's in the au where nolan & him team up, there will be a compound with all the rebels. you'd be at the top floor in a comfy little penthouse. a gilded cage overlooking the remains of your burned city.

i think he'll first want to fuck you in a place where there'll be no interruptions. if it isn't in the au where him & nolan conquer earth, he knows how to play his role. doesn't want to risk being found raping you. he'll most likely fuck you in a place you hold dear to your heart. your bedroom, could be an example.

because wherever that safe space may be, you won't be able to stand being there without thinking about him.

M= Motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons)

he likes it when you act so sure of yourself. when someone's a bit cocky and bossy. it's nice to break you.

it is a whole lot easier when someone's shyer, though. wallflowers always blend into the background.

no one misses them when they go missing.

N= No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do)

there's almost nothing mark won't do to you, sorry ;( even if he doesn't like it. . even if you both don't like it. . he'll always find a way to humiliate you if you've been bad. so it's advised you be on your best behavior if you really don't want him to do some fucked up shit to you. & believe him: it hurts him more than it hurts you!!

all he's ever wanted was to own you.

you were meant for him.

so why fight?

you both know you're not getting out of this alive

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)

mark doesn't always give head unless it's to put you in your place. just to show you that he can make you cum and theres nothing you can do about it.

but he makes you choke on him all the time. he's impatient, forcing your head down and hiking his hips up to meet your face. if you've pissed him off, he'll pinch your nose and hold you down. loves to feel your nails dig into the bulk of his thigh. sometimes, you'll make him bleed. he doesn't care.

P= Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed)

mark doesn’t last very long BUT he’s got a very short refractory period and can go for countless rounds. by the time you cum once, he’s already cum like three times and he’s ready for more. by then, he’s already fucked dumb. so your next orgasms will be forced out of you, roughed up and overstimulated as his cum leaks out of you, his cum acting as lube and making the slide intoxicatingly easy.

Q= Quickie

basically non-existent. he loves giving you his undivided attention. and he never stops after one round ;(

R= Risk (do they like to try new things)

he loves trying new things with you. he's spent so much time fantasizing about you that he doesn't even know where to start the first time he gets his hands on you. he'll most likely force fuck you more than once in a day the first time he gets the chance to.

S= Stamina

(see pace <3)

T= Toys

loves using toys on you. if you’ve used them before him, he’ll force you to use them in front of him. it doesn’t take long before he takes control: grabbing them and fucking you with them. edging you. if you cum, then it’s only fair he cums, too, right? and you don’t really like that much ;( so best hold it in <3

U= Unfair (how do they tease? edge?)

mark loves to tease and edge you.

you say you hate him. you can't stand him touching you.

you bite and you snarl, kick and punch, yet when he has you pinned, edging you for hours on end. . you end up breaking. begging him to make you cum. of course, he coaches you through it. tells you he'll leave you alone once you cum, he promises. yet he drags it out for so long. hearing you ask to cum instead of asking him to stop is music to his ears.

except, mark is a liar. you shouldn't trust him.

he just ends up overstimulating you after you cum😒

V= Volume

lots of whispering and hissing, talks very quietly and carefully. you'd think he'd be loud. . but he's not. and despite the fact that he may say vile, disgusting things to you, he whispers them to you so nicely. . if he were saying anything else it'd be sweet. he's so patronizing ;( whimpers in your ear when he's close.

W= Wild card

really into pain.

since he's got his powers, it's not very often that he feels pain. sure, there are some fights with villains - while he's out playing the perfect hero in the mean time - that give him a few flashes of pain. but that's once a blue moon.

nothing compares to you.

you fight him like you're afraid he might kill you. and he might. but it's never his intention ;( he knows what kills and what doesn't (trust him) &, believe it or not, he doesn't want to lose you. but you fight him with such intensity he has to manhandle you more than he'd like.

your hits are surprisingly hard. you claw at him and punch and kick, and he's thought about breaking your legs more times than he can count - he still might if you catch him on a bad day - but then that'd leave you completely immobilized and that's really no fun. because he likes it when you make him bleed. he likes it when your hands slap against his face and when your nails try to claw his eyes out. he wears the bruises and the cuts you give him like badges of honor and he loves to bite his busted lip when he's close to cumming.

he loves it when you hurt him. and he loves it when he ends up winning, anyway.

X= X-ray (size)

5-6in & THICK. really pretty w/ plump balls. he cums SO much.

Y= Yearning (sex drive level)

he's got a HIGH sex drive.

you've teased him for so long he doesn't think he'll ever get enough of you. and there's nothing you can do to stop him. if the two of you weren't close - if the two of you weren't friends, etc. - there's nothing you can do to lay low. you'll catch his attention sooner or later and he'll weasel his way into your life before you even realize it. his intentions would appear pure at first. he'd be so caring, wondering if you're doing okay, and protective; who were you talking to? i don't think they're good for you~

and you listened. because it's mark you're talking about. but if you truly knew him, you'd realize his accusations were actually projections.

Z= Zzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)

falls asleep fairly quickly after he's wrung himself dry. but that's only IF he's already taken you hostage. if he so happens to assault you while the two of you aren't where he'd like to keep you, he takes you there, first. coupled with his strange idea of aftercare, he is fairly affectionate. or as affectionate as you'd expect him to be, anyway. always with a hint of menace: he'd hold you tight against him, an arm around your waist and the other wrapped around your throat. making sure you don't so much as think about straying away from him 💗💗

#mark grayson #invincible #invincible x reader #mark grayson x reader #yandere mark grayson x reader #mark grayson brain rot #can't stop imagining mark being an absolute creep #“when will my husband come back from war”#but it's just some psycho #do you think yan! mark listens to deftones #korea & lovers are his songs #mascara is if he's still pretending to be normal #& baby traps u or something #so now u have to get marrieeeddd eee #when he follows in his dad's footsteps #making u a stay at home parent while he saves the world #but ur being held hostage #listen to it now i am in ur walls

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revehae · 3 months

Text

do you like it, dr. lee?

pairing ↠ haechan, jaemin, jeno × (f) reader

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, noncon, gangbanging, student x professor, reader is early 30s, mentions of infidelity, age gap (18+)

summary ↠ haechan, jaemin, and jeno are some of the brightest, most accomplished students in your class that never fail to make high marks on the exams. but when they approach you one day in your office, your perspective of them changes dramatically.

wc ↠ 5.4k

a/n ↠ part 2/5 of the college-capades series! connected to sexcapade.

don’t like it, don’t read.

it all happened so fast.

one minute, you were chatting with three of your most wonderful students in your office, and the very next, they had you sprawled out on top of your desk.

your heart was speeding. though you attempted to wrestle your way out of their less than gentle embraces, you couldn’t even take one of them, let alone all three. while somebody was keeping your hands still, another was holding you by the legs.

jeno, who had his palm flat over your mouth, only watching your moist, fearfully wide eyes, leaned into your ear and whispered, “scream and we’ll saw your tongue off.”

when he dropped his palm, you sucked in a breath, face tensing with tears as you willed yourself to be compliant. your head was spinning, dizzy with shock. what was happening to you was unfathomable. these boys were some of your favorite students, the ones who never failed to perform magnificently on the exams, and were sparkling in class.

you felt betrayed, in a way. even your worst-performing student wouldn’t stoop this low, and in the midst of your fright, you wondered what you had done to deserve the atrocity that was today. if there was anybody that you could count on to make you feel as if your dedication to this job wasn’t completely useless, it was these boys.

haechan was standing just shy of you, eyes fixed to that knee-length skirt he loved watching you wear. jeno chuckled when he noticed where his friend’s gaze had fallen, because he found himself glancing there too, but usually when you were facing away from your students.

he always thought about getting you naked, seeing your ass without anything to hinder his view. more often than not, jeno fisted himself to the thought of stuffing your ass full of his thick cock, wondering if anybody had ever fucked you there.

snapping out of his imagination, haechan approached you, shoving your long skirt closer to your hips. instinctively, the first thing you did was try to protect yourself, but jaemin grabbed you and ceased all control. you slumped, whimpering defeatedly, “boys, please stop. you know that i have a husband.”

haechan snickered, amused that that was the card you chose to play. “didn’t really look like you cared about your husband when you were fucking my dad,” he retorted.

rather than beat even quicker, it felt as if your heart stilled. “what?”

jeno laughed boisterously. “would you look at that. she thinks you don’t know.”

“that’s right, baby,” haechan replied menacingly, nothing affectionate about his tone, in spite of the pet name. “you run your mouth and we’ll make sure the whole school knows that you can’t stop spreading your legs for my father.”

donning the sweetest tone, jaemin crooned in your ear, “and you wouldn’t want that, right, sweetheart? you wouldn’t want mr. lee to know that his wife isn’t satisfied with just his cock, is she now?”

it felt as if the whole world was crumbling beneath your feet. haechan was johnny’s son, the offspring of the man you had been hooking up with behind your husband’s back, and now he and his friends were threatening to expose your affair if you refused to let them have their way with you.

your lips were trembling. this is all your fault, you chided to yourself. if you could’ve just been a faithful wife, a committed woman, none of this would be happening. they would have nothing against you, nothing that would stop you from reporting to the closest figure of authority. but you had too much at stake.

though you were no stranger to jeno’s short patience, you had never seen it manifest quite like this before, gripping your hair so roughly you whimpered in a blend of pain and shock. he growled, “he asked you a question. i shouldn’t have to tell you that that called for an answer.”

“no,” you replied shakily.

jeno’s grip only tightened and he pressed, “no, what?”

“no, i don’t want him to know…,” you trailed, because it was humiliating to repeat back aloud, but jeno was still gazing at you expectantly. “that i’m not satisfied with just his cock.”

“see, that wasn’t so hard. don’t be a little bitch and make things more complicated than they have to be,” jeno said, releasing his hold on your hair. you would’ve fallen back had not jaemin been there to catch you, only to then grab the little buttons on your blouse. “we’re doing you a favor, really. it’s a three for one deal. a little whore like you should be excited.”

but you didn’t want them, you didn’t even want your husband. you wanted johnny. it made you wonder how they knew of the affair, because haechan seemed oblivious only a couple of weeks ago. he referred to you as some fucking nurse johnny had flirted with, not his molecular biology professor.

for fuck’s sake, you were a solid decade older than them. granted, johnny was at least a decade older than you, though there was a discernible difference between the age gap between the two of you and the gap between you and your undergraduate students.

your button-up blouse finally came undone and jaemin didn’t waste a breath before he snatched off your bra, eager to suck your breasts into his mouth. you gasped out when he did, his tongue darting around your nipples. in the same way, haechan yanked your panties off, cupping between your legs without a second thought.

never in your life had you felt more defenseless, powerless. stripped of all autonomy and forced to let other people have their wicked ways with you. you felt nothing short of violated and it made you sick to your stomach, gut tossing and churning with reproach.

through your stinging eyes, blurry with hot tears, you watched haechan sink to his knees in front of your desk. you weren’t particularly enthusiastic about how exposed you were, your breasts out and your skirt bunched just above your thighs. it felt like the closest thing to walking around the plaza half-naked.

obviously, you felt more watched than you would’ve had it just been one of them, but you were at the mercy of three guys that were paying a godawful amount of attention to your bare figure. jaemin was fixed to your perky chest and jeno was watching haechan situate himself between your legs, holding them open for his friend in case you wanted to be defiant.

“haechan, i don’t want this,” you whined, wiping your face with the back of your hand.

“that’s too bad, baby.” haechan wasn’t even looking at you, gaze locked on your pussy, like that was what you were reduced to. “don’t worry, it’ll feel good.”

you sucked in another gasp when his mouth angled towards your pussy without affording you a notice in advance, your body’s natural instinct being to shut your legs, but jeno was still holding them in place and he was infinitely stronger than you. with the vigorous training that it took to be a member of the campus’ athletic teams, it came to you as no shock, but you were heavily disappointed.

haechan’s tongue singled out your clit while he lapped at you, ravenous. the second he saw you on the first day of class, he knew that he had to have you. so when he found out that you were sleeping with his father, cheating on your husband with haechan’s dad of all people, he became furious.

neither you or johnny were as good at keeping secrets as you thought yourselves to be. on more than one occasion, haechan saw you leaving their house. every now and then, he would see your name on his father’s phone. and it wasn’t fair. if anybody could please you, if anybody could bring you to heaven and back, it was the boy with his head buried between your legs.

as if matters couldn’t get any worse, haechan actually seemed to know what he was doing. though you would never admit it to his face, the way he was sucking at your bundle of nerves had you throbbing, pulsing involuntarily around nothing. you whimpered and whined, but chewed on your bottom lip to stifle the noise.

jaemin chuckled so quietly it was barely audible, but said nothing as of right now, cupping your tits in his palms and squeezing. his patience was much less limited than jeno’s, who was currently shifting out of his boxers, freeing his raging hard cock. you saw him in the corner of your misty eyes, noticing how rigid and thick his cock was, but said nothing.

what you didn’t expect, though probably should have seen coming, was for him to start jacking himself to the sight of you being mishandled. haechan wasn’t the only one that couldn’t stop thinking about from the moment you locked eyes. matter of fact, that mutual pining was the common denominator of this little team.

all three of them were sick in the head, out of their minds obsessed with you. you would have expected some lethal kind of rivalry to develop out of that, but instead, they were much more menacing about it. they were helping each other get what they wanted.

you were a little overwhelmed from all the attention and jeno wasn’t even touching you, but just knowing that he was stroking his cock for you was more than a little unnerving. jaemin’s hands were so strangely gentle, setting a pattern as he groped you, all the while haechan was eating you out vigorously.

“pretty, pretty. so pretty when you cry,” jaemin sang in a way that could’ve been kind, if you ignored the nature of what was happening to you. then, like he knew your secret and was implying that he wouldn’t tell, he whispered for only your ears, “pretty when you lie, too.”

it wasn’t fair. you didn’t want to like this, just like how you didn’t want to be aroused. but when haechan pushed a pair of fingers inside of your pussy you gushed and tightened around his digits. you were so unstill, it drove him mad, prompting him to go harder.

your brain was empty but racing all the while, thinking, this is so fucking wrong. you were fucking his father, for crying out loud, and even that was wrong. you didn’t care then, so according to their logic, it shouldn’t have made a difference now.

haechan and jeno’s grunts blended into one giant cacophony of sound, haechan moaning with a mouthful of pussy because he couldn’t get enough of the way you tasted and your pussy was spasming around his digits, whereas jeno was grunting because he thought you were most right now when you were deprived of all control.

blood was pumping quicker than ever through your veins, your heart screaming for survival. you weren’t even remotely in control of your own body anymore, seized not only by your three reckless students, but the pleasure burning through you like wildfire.

your office, that was typically admirably ventilated, seemed to hot to breathe in. but your breaths became quicker and shorter, as if there was no space in your lungs, and you started to feel the sweat cooling down your back, reminding you of how naked you were.

haechan was so hard, stiffening in his pants the longer he watched you start to unravel, and he could’ve probably gotten off just from making you cum. you were grinding your hips against his mouth, and his long, slender fingers that were surely getting you there. you might not have wanted to confess the truth, but your body couldn’t lie.

“she’s so close,” jeno commented with a chuckle, addressing you as if you weren’t even there. “fuck, i am too.”

a hole of negative emotions opened then and there and swallowed you whole, namely guilt and humiliation. you didn’t want haechan to make you cum, you didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of bringing you pleasure, but that ship had already sailed.

nonetheless, you parted your lips and begged in between shaky moans, “haechan, stop. please, i’m begging you!”

“he’s not going to stop, sweetheart,” jaemin crooned, brushing a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. “don’t you see? he can’t get enough of your pretty pussy. you should feel so good about yourself.”

few things in life had ever made you feel this conflicted. on the one hand, this was degrading on way too many levels and you felt forcibly stripped of all of your dignity. but on the other, deep down inside, the sight of haechan with his head between your thighs as he licked and sucked at your cunt was inexplicably arousing.

and that did it for you. you tried to fight it, you really did, but your orgasm completely blindsided you, taking you by the reins and going to town. your lips parted in a cry of haechan’s name, your thighs trembling and heat striking through you like lightning as you gripped onto jaemin for dear life.

haechan continued to go down on you after you orgasmed, just until you finished more or less riding his face, going limp against your desk with only jaemin to keep you upright. you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t think. all the blood was rushing to your head and your heart was thumping in your ears.

haechan finally pulled back, licking your arousal off of his lips and the corners of his mouth in a way that made your core throb emptily, then asked, “did you like it, dr. lee?”

your ears burned and you said nothing, because there was nothing that needed to be said. your answer was in the way your chest heaved like unstill waters, your fingers still holding onto jaemin’s shirt. like you thought you would collapse if you had nothing to anchor yourself.

jaemin took one glance at you and scoffed, “i think she loved it, man.”

there was something so smug in haechan’s stare, like he just knew that he had you.

when haechan moved, jeno came between your spread legs, still holding his cock while he stroked himself to climax in front of you. like it would never be satisfied, your pussy continued to throb at the sounds you were indirectly plucking out of him, culminating in one deep, guttural growl when he came, shooting his load on your cunt.

though you were (thank god) on birth control, him orgasming there still made you feel iffy. you could feel it trickling down into your hole and hated how eager it seemed to be filled. for half a second, you were convinced that was the worst that could happen.

imagine your shock when jaemin abandoned your boobs, soft and supple as they were, and shifted between your thighs next. you didn’t know what to expect when you noticed him move, they enjoyed keeping you guessing, but it definitely wasn’t for jaemin to lick at your release-stained pussy.

you gasped, “jaemin!”

the sound of him sucking and licking at your clit was lewd, and there were long, damp lines being made with his flattened tongue. while you were appalled, the other watched in amusement how jaemin unabashedly more or less ate jeno’s cum from your hole in a disturbing licking pattern. because where it was a nightmare for you, it was just one giant game to them.

to say nothing of the fact that you had only just orgasmed, sensitive. your thighs couldn’t handle the stimulation and you let out a breath of relief when his mouth separated from you, only for him to stand and force his lips against yours. you resisted, jolting away from him, but your attempts to evade him were in vain.

jaemin didn’t even need to grab your face to keep you still, because there was nowhere for you to hide. it was a disgusting, messy kiss, given that you were adamant on pushing him off. only so much of it was your fault though. jaemin liked it messy, liked how repulsed you were. he liked the grimace you were sporting and the blend of jeno’s cum and saliva dribbling down your chin. the damp spots of his saliva on your cheek from your attempts to dodge him and where his tongue pressed against you instead.

it was nauseating to you. you could taste jeno’s cum on your tongue, even though his cock hadn’t been anywhere near your mouth. and the the taste just wouldn’t go away.

jaemin, at last, pulled back, though only to laugh at the look on your face. “aw, don’t make that face. you liked it, right?”

you parted your lips to say deny him, but jaemin saw it coming and just kissed you again, not one to take no for an answer.

“okay, move your ass,” haechan said after a minute of watching you squirm. you never realized how strong jaemin was.

jaemin frowned, but moved out of the way. not because haechan told him to, but because he had something equally devious running through his brain.

you were baffled when you noticed haechan returning between your thighs, because he should’ve already had his fill. then, you noticed that he had freed his cock from his boxers in the time jaemin spent sucking on your tongue, and swallowed the lump in your throat.

you let out a cry of shock when they spread you over your desk the long way, carelessly toppling over your belongings, and yanked your skirt off your body completely. you were utterly naked, and there was no bit of you they hadn’t seen.

haechan positioned himself behind you, lining himself up at your entrance. there was so much terror in your body at the moment, scared not only for what was to come, but of liking it too.

“please,” you begged, trying to negotiate once more. “you boys should fool around with someone your own age.”

haechan snickered, as if that was funny. he probably thinks it is. “maybe, but where’s the fun in that?”

your jaw slacked when his first thrust drew a pitched cry from the back of your throat. he wasn’t even half as patient as his father would be to sheathe himself completely. johnny would take his time, wallowing in your wetness just before slowly but steadily filling you, inch by fucking inch. haechan, on the other hand, went straight for the kill.

but to your horror, you were soaked enough for him to slip right in smoothly, to say nothing of jeno’s leftover cum facilitating the process. haechan was girthy like johnny too, in spite of all of their stark differences, and you hated that it was so familiar how he was stretching you out.

“wait,” you whimpered, fingers clamping aggressively against the edges of your desk. “haechan, please. you don’t need to do this.”

irritated, jeno nudged jaemin, groaning, “will you shut her up already?”

“gladly,” jaemin chirped, a devilish little smile tugging at his lips.

you lifted your head up when you heard jaemin approaching the side of your desk that you were facing, watching him shuffle out of his pants and boxers, and you quickly started to flail. haechan grabbed your neck, lowered his head, and hissed, “behave, or we’ll have to tell the class that their favorite professor is just a slutty little whore.”

you stilled, remembering what was at stake. it wasn’t just your career, but johnny’s too. the second it got out that the two of you were involved in an affair, you knew you would both have to answer for your sins.

when jaemin finally got his underwear off, lengthy hard cock standing angrily against his stomach, he positioned himself beside your mouth and crooned, “say ‘ah.’”

“i don’t want to,” you whimpered.

jeno crept over, evidently disgruntled, and there was a resounding smack when his palm landed flat against your cheek. “one more thing from you and your husband’s gonna get a nice surprise in his email,” he warned.

defeated, you silently opened your mouth, letting jaemin push himself to the back of your throat. he let out a pleasant little sigh, eyes fluttering closed, paying no attention to the tears dripping down your cheeks. your mouth was too warm for him to a give damn whether or not you wanted this, to care about what you were feeling.

all the while, haechan’s hands were bruising your hips with the merciless grip he had of them. unlike you, his moans were unrestrained, never shy to reveal the ecstasy making his blood pump and his dick throb. you were so wet, so tight, everything he imagined tenfold. his father didn’t deserve you, not in his opinion. everything johnny could do, haechan was certain that he could do better, even if you didn’t want to confess.

even if he was a lot less caring than his dad would present. you didn’t know johnny, not like you thought. the dark side haechan had didn’t just come out of nowhere. though you would never realize, there was a clear reason why haechan was so sick in the head, especially when it came to you. why he took great delight in forcing you over your desk, stuffing you full of his cock and listening to you cry, struggling to hide that you loved his cock.

“he doesn’t love you, you know,” haechan said none too gently, snickering from between your legs. “i hope you realize you’re just another easy whore. not the first, not the last.”

there was so much going on that you were hoping you could somehow detach yourself from the brutal reality. not only was your body overloaded, but your mind and soul, ripping a hole right through all that you thought to be true.

it was all too fucking much. “your mouth feels so good,” jaemin exhaled, a hand tangled through your hair.

“you should feel her pussy. she’s so fucking wet, dude. and she thinks we’re going to buy that she’s not begging for this,” haechan replied, completely degrading.

jaemin chuckled breathlessly. you were sucking it out of him, against your will or not. “yeah, i can hear how wet she is.”

jeno said nothing, but you were already too overwhelmed to notice his absence in the conversation. he was engrossed in thought, waiting with staggering patience for his own turn. which wasn’t typical for him at all. he swore, when he was done with you, you weren’t even going to think for weeks.

between haechan’s twisted smack of his hips against yours and the way jaemin was unabashedly using your mouth to get off, you couldn’t decide which was more brutal. torture was torture, but if it was meant to be so bad, there shouldn’t have been moans slipping from your mouth uncontrollably. there shouldn’t have been a familar weight sitting in the pit of your stomach, waiting to wreck you.

“i know you love this,” haechan said, maybe project just a little, but the body didn’t lie and he could feel you tightening. “i know you love this fucking dick. wish i could hear you say it, baby.”

“that can be arranged,” jaemin quipped, but it took you by surprise when he actually pulled his cock from your mouth. “c’mon, angel. tell haechan how much you love his dick.”

your face flushed with humiliation, but you knew what would happen if you failed to comply. “i...,” you started, hesitant. “i love your dick, haechan.”

haechan smacked your ass, making you stifle a scream. “again.”

you cried out, “i love your dick!”

“i know,” haechan said, sickeningly confident in himself. “i also know that you’re about to cum.”

it was maddening that your husband of ages could hardly even get you off these days but some students in your class were recognizing the signs in record time. you were also ashamed with yourself for being so aroused, for needing to orgasm this badly, but you forfeited control of yourself moments ago.

jaemin had enough and once his dick started to twitch desperately, he shoved his cock back into your mouth, chasing relief for the raging hard-on you’d given him. rather than you sucking him off, it was more of him relentlessly fucking your throat, not stopping when you gagged.

and it wasn’t long before the three of you ultimately came, like a chain of dominoes collapsing after each other. this orgasm was just as powerful as the one that came before, the room reeling as your screams were muffled against jaemin’s stiff cock. your whole body was a thousand degrees hotter. jaemin’s warm cum releasing in your mouth while haechan’s seeped deeply into your pussy.

although you tried to swallow jaemin’s cum, per his request, some of it dripped onto the floor. you were terrified of leaving evidence of this encounter, wishing you would’ve gulped it all back, but then you felt haechan’s cum leaking out of you and your priorities shifted.

“my turn,” jeno said, though that was a given. you were confused when he started to spread haechan’s cum over your asshole, though for the longest you could feel his stare burning through your backside.

baffled, and maybe somewhat startled, you asked, “jeno, what are you doing?”

“shut the fuck up,” jeno snapped belligerently, smacking his palm harshly against your cunt. you cried out in pain, unexpecting. “i’m tired of hearing your voice. just take it.”

but nothing could have prepared you for what was to come. nothing could have prepared you for the merciless way he penetrated your ass, effectively knocking the wind out of you. you felt like you couldn’t breathe, as if all the air in the sky was stolen and hid in this little box somewhere.

you wanted to scream, you wanted to beg for forgiveness for whatever you had done, but no sound would come from your mouth. there was only instant tears, your hands gripped the rim of your desk for purchase. the makeup you were wearing was ruined ages ago, but it had to have looked despicable now, because you were sobbing harder than ever.

“poor thing.” jaemin frowned, pretending to be compassionate. that was something he was good at, you realized. he had you fooled until you saw how recklessly he fucked your throat, and you came to accept they were all too alike.

“she’ll be, fuck, fine,” jeno groaned, careless. he was the roughest of the bunch, the most antagonistic. “this hole is so fucking tight.”

jeno was pressing you against the desk harder than haechan had, roughly mishandling you. it was obvious that jeno didn’t see you as his equal. when it came to you, all he gave a damn about was passing your class and fucking your ass.

never in your life had anyone ever fucked you there before, and the thought hadn’t even crossed your mind. you were so repulsed, choking on your own feelings as they killed you slowly. the pain was unbearable, making it impossible to remain still, but that didn’t matter when jeno had you borderline flattened.

it was almost awe-inducing how he held you down with ease, regardless of how strong you thought you were and how violently you were reacting. it was the closest thing to being split open. pitiful little noises escaped you, but you bit them back, because the last thing you wanted was to get caught. somehow, though, the shock was more agonizing than the pain itself.

your agonized whimpers and jeno’s husky grunts made an awkward cacophony. if there was any of them that got off to your helplessness, you knew it was all of them, but jeno had to wallow in it more than either of them.

haechan and jaemin were stroking their cocks to the sight of you being ravaged to the point of total destruction. there were plenty of times in your life where you felt nothing short of broken, but this was a different variant, a kind from which you knew that you would never recover.

jeno couldn’t believe his thick cock was even fitting into your tight, flexing asshole, though then again, whatever you thought you couldn’t take, jeno would make you do. your body was for his own personal amusement. he leveraged himself deeper and deeper, groaning and laughing, using you to his advantage. because what jeno wanted, he always got. every time without fail. obviously, you were no exception to this pattern, even if it was to your own dismay.

your lip was bleeding from how frequently you were biting. all you wanted was to protect your reputation. you had things to lose, things you knew jeno would steal away from you in a heartbeat, because all he did was take.

“she’s such a damn whore, fuck. she should be grateful i’m fucking her,” jeno hissed, aggressive.

given how much you had heard adjacent statements in the past hour, you were starting to believe them, no matter how disparaging they were. you were accepting the cold truth, that this was your punishment for being unfaithful.

quickening his pace, jeno continued, “i’ve never wanted to fuck that nasty little pussy of hers. not when everybody’s been inside of it. but i can tell she’s never had this ass stretched before.”

his words were hurting more than his cruel movements, and you didn’t understand the science behind that. you whined, “jeno.” please, have mercy, was what you wanted to say, but you knew there was no point.

jeno squeezed your neck, cutting off your ability to inhale, and you felt every nerve in your body start to panic. “for the umpteenth time, shut the fuck up. no one’s fucking talking to you, bitch.”

you quieted, face tensing with delirious pain.

“pathetic if you ask me,” haechan added, breath shaky. “her husband’s dick isn’t good enough for her, so she fucks my dad, and now that we give her three more, she still has the audacity to complain.”

jaemin snorted. “textbook cockslut.”

you wanted to speak, you were desperate to defend your honor and identity, but you had already said enough and you were lucky that they hadn’t already decided to expose you to the whole planet. you had no defenses against them, nothing in your arsenal.

“begging us to stop, but she won’t stop fucking cumming. needy little bitch,” jeno chided, though judging from his breathlessness, he was far from disgruntled.

jaemin chortled, his cock still close to your face, and it was making you mildly uncomfortable. “maybe we should send her back to the husband with some tips.”

“oh, i’ve got one,” haechan said, beaming with his usual mischief. “hold her down and use her little holes until you’re done.”

“yeah, looks like she loves that,” jaemin retorted.

jeno quipped, “we should’ve recorded. maybe showed him a tutorial.”

haechan blew out a contented sigh. “well, there’s always next time.”

your heart was taut with fear at the thought of there being a next time, but the three of your students were grinning with excitement, as if they wholly anticipated reliving this moment in the not so distant future.

“fuck, i’m gonna cum,” jeno grunted, wanting to go even deeper, but there was nowhere for him to move.

haechan hummed, reminiscing over how good it felt to cum inside of your throbbing pussy. how you milked the cum out of him, bled him dry. “shame she’s on birth control. i overheard her and my dad talking,” he replied, nonchalant. “imagine if we got her pregnant.”

“man, don’t talk like that,” jeno groaned.

haechan glanced to jaemin, both of them snickering amongst each other. “dude, i was just kidding. don’t tell me that’s actually getting your dick hard.”

“fuck, i’m gonna…”

the most delicious growl came from the tip of jeno’s tongue when he released inside of your asshole, his brows scrunching together with pleasure. his hips finally grinded to a halt when he met his climax, dumping way too much of his load inside. you could feel his fingertips leaving marks that would indefinitely stain your skin, and you dreaded having to explain them to your husband.

when jeno finally pulled away from you, having had his fill for now, your body went limp against your desk. you could have moved, but you were too exhausted. sweat cooled down your back, chilling you to shudders, but there wasn’t a single thought in your head. all you could do was lie there, used and exploited, hoping that life would return to the way you knew it before they broke you.

because right now, it was bland. the only thing you could feel was the soreness in your legs and the cum dripping from your hole, numbing yourself to everything else.

there was so patronizing about the way jeno turned to you, asking with the slyest grin on his face, “did you like it, dr. lee?”

#tw: noncon #nct dream smut #lee haechan smut #lee jeno smut #jaemin smut #nct smut #nct dream hard hours #haechan smut #jeno smut #revehae fics

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disneyprincemuke · 7 months

Text

to forget you * cl16

you avoided alcohol to forget the likes of charles, but he coped by drowning himself in the very same thing that reminded him of you

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: mention of alcohol, borderline alcoholism

notes: omGgGg i loVED THIS!! i can’t wait to post the last part hehe it’s gonna be greAt!! my ask is open for requests, btw, so please go ahead! <3

(i quit drinking) // (to forget you) // (you called)

charles nurses the glass of scotch on the table, elbow propped up on the kitchen island with his shoulders slumped. he’s wiping off the droplets of condensation on the side to keep his thoughts minimal.

“you’re drinking awfully slow tonight,” pierre teases across the island, raising an eyebrow cautiously at his friend. “something wrong?”

charles looks up, meeting his eyes. he tilts his head and narrows his eyes down. is it really that obvious? “what do you mean?”

pierre’s eyes trail down to the glass. it’s just as full as it was 20 minutes ago when he poured it for charles. charles follows his gaze and internally sighs.

of course, it’s odd that he’s only taking sips of his drink. ever since you both came to the conclusion of your split, he’s been drinking his nights away. excessively.

though, it wasn’t even a drastic change from his routine. he is always drinking; be it with his friends or team. the reason he’s drowning himself in alcohol has changed drastically over the past few weeks. he’s no longer drinking for the fun of it.

he’s drinking to forget you — the way he would watch your back rise and fall every morning, how your bare back felt against his chest, how you would sit up with the blankets loosely draped over your body when he comes in with coffee.

he’s desperately trying to forget the sound of your voice in the morning and the way your lips felt against his skin. nothing he does seems to be enough.

about a week after, in the middle of drinks with carlos, he had imagined you with other guys. making you bubble up in your contagious laughter, the skin by your eyes crinkling when you smile and how your nose scrunches up when you speak.

he threw up right after that.

realistically, he can’t handle the thought of you with someone else. he doesn’t even want to think about the possibility that you never liked him as much as you said you did.

how can something filled with so much passion and fire just burn out so quick?

he falls asleep every night with your name on his tongue, muttering about how much he misses you. his sober self isn’t aware but half the grid is aware of the break up from all his drunken whispers with himself when he thinks nobody is listening.

everybody doesn’t bring it up, simply because he doesn’t.

he wakes up in the morning, hands patting the empty side of the bed searching for your presence. in the middle of the night, he pulls the blankets tighter over his body as if you were there wrestling him for it.

“is something wrong? you never turn scotch down,” pierre laughs, pointing at this drink knowingly. but the worried stint in his eye almost makes charles roll his eyes. it’s the same damn thing he sees from everyone else who has a slight idea of the break up. “you’re not well?”

charles shakes his head. he licks his lips and bit down on his bottom lip. he’s not sure why he doesn’t feel the need to drink either.

the alcohol didn’t make missing you any easier. if anything, it’s made it all the more harder. with every sip, he just found himself missing you more, fingertips dancing above his screen as he ponders if you’d pick up if he called.

there was something about the hollow and yearning feeling in his chest that he strangely likes. maybe it’s the karma for jumping person to person.

sure, charles leclerc is known for moving on faster than the average person. however, there was something different about the pain moving away from a 5 month relationship.

he still has the hairtie you’d unknowingly left on his bathroom sink. in a hangover once, he dragged his feet across his apartment and caught sight of it unexpectedly.

he broke down in a crying and sputtering mess before he passed out by the edge of the bed. he woke up muttering your name again.

“is it the breakup?”

charles looks up again, almost appalled at the assumption. pierre is right, of course, but is it not such an outrageous guess out of nowhere?

he can’t possibly push pierre away as well while he’s in this break up blue. his sadness is so strong and it’s not like he is quiet about it. he’s heard that it’s started to get dangerously contagious with alcohol in the mix.

charles notices the fewer invitations he’s gotten to grab drinks. which is why he’s not particularly surprised, or offended, that max had left him out of the house party he’s throwing over the summer break.

so he just shrugs. he’s not sure he’s ever going to be ready to admit that he truly felt for you despite the alcohol defining most of your relationship’s highs. “i think so.”

pierre just nods. he shoots charles a hesitant look, before turning back to the stove.

charles sighs audibly again, shoulders slumping even more. he looks at his phone sitting on the edge of the counter. it doesn’t light up like he expects it. it doesn’t even buzz.

fine, he thinks, i’ll drink.

just as charles lifts the glass from the counter, his phone lights up and start buzzing in the corner of his eye. he blinks once, making sure it’s not his delusions playing with him.

he hasn’t drank all that much, right?

“are you going to pick up the phone?” pierre asks, hand on his hip, glaring at charles from across the counter. he has a spatula in his hand, pointed directly at him.

charles now knows he shouldn’t have picked up his phone and looked at the caller id first. he should have just answered without hesitation.

with your picture taking up his entire screen with your name, he completely freezes. he’s staring down at it, still blinking to make sure it’s not one of his cruel dreams haunting him once more.

he takes a deep breath, sliding his finger across the screen. “hello?”

“oh, you picked up.”

#hehe i lOVED WRITING THIS #good stuff #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke f1

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babysun412 · 5 months

Text

Naps with Nct Dream!

Mark

Mark is the type of person who needs to be forced to sleep. He's always preoccupied with something whether it's for work or it's his own personal projects. But once you do finally wrestle him down for a nap. He will be out like a light for HOURS.

He will wrap his arms tight around you from behind and his face will bury itself in your neck. He won't even care if your hair is in his face. The feeling of your warm back pressed against him allows him to feel safe and comfortable. He will absolutely whine if you try to pull away when he's not ready to wake up though.

Renjun

Renjun honestly seems like someone who is always down for a nap. With the irritated looks he gives the dreamies I would not be surprised if he's the first one to suggest it.

He would love to take naps during the slower times of the day. The perfect time being the small slump before dinner. He would love waking up to your soft and relaxed face as he can smell warm food cooking (hopefully not by a member who will lit the kitchen on fire) downstairs.

Jeno

Clingy! He is super duper clingy when he is tired and napping is not an exception! However, just like Mark, it does take a little bit for you to convince him to come nap with you. Jeno likes having things to do and he likes relaxing once all his activities are done. So a nap with Jeno is very short, 30 minutes at best.

But once he's wrapped you up against his chest he doesn't let you go the whole time. You gotta pee, too bad. Someone's knocking on the door, oh well. His arms would be tight around you and his nose would instantly bury itself in your hair.

However, there are those small moments where Jeno falls asleep for hours and those are the naps you cherish. You love waking up to his soft sleepy face and the feeling of not needing to be somewhere or doing something.

Haechan (Donghyuck)

Donghyuck doesn't like naps. Not a single bit and while whine over and over again if you try to make him take one. You won't even be able to really nap with the amount of complaining and rolling over he will do.

But if you are reaallllyyyy lucky, he will actually fall asleep. He would have a loose arm thrown over you and his face would be smushed against his pillow with his mouth slightly open. It's funny how the one time he actually naps he's whining for you to stay and keep napping with him.

Jaemin

First of all, Jaemin loves you to pieces. He would do anything for you. If you want a nap, this boy has already dug all of your fluffy blankets out of the closet and is turning off the lights before you even finish asking.

He would pull you into the biggest and tightly bear hug you can imagine. His heartbeat would lull you to sleep and the fact the love of his life is in his arms would put him to sleep too. There is no doubt that his heart only beats for you.

Chenle

Another complainer! But he doesn't do it because he hates naps, in fact he loves them. He complains because he loves to see you get annoyed. He loves watching you shake his arm and the cute frown on your face when he says no. The second you sigh and give up is the second he pulls you towards the bed.

Chenle becomes so soft and gentle with you when you take naps together. He loves when you place your head on his chest and his heart does a flip when your hands clutch onto his hoodie. He'll slowly rub circles on your hip with his fingers until he falls asleep.

If he wakes up before you he loves to just trace your features with his eyes. He refuses to get out of the bed until you wake up. You turn our bad bitch chenle into a big ol' softy.

Jisung

Jisung was absolutely already laying down before you walked into the room. Naps are definitely apart of his everyday routine. He doesn't mind waking up to you in his arms though.

He would be a little surprised to find another person sleeping in his bed when he wakes up. But once he sees that it's you, he instantly fills with happiness. He would sneak as close as he could get without waking you up and press his red smiling face into your shoulder. Seeing you so vulnerable and cute would literally cause his heart to explode.

#nct dream reactions #nct dream texts #nct dream #nct fake texts #nct drabbles #nct fanfic #nct imagines #mark lee #renjun #jeno #haechan #lee donghyuck #jaemin #chenle #park jisung #daegal

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actuallysaiyan · 1 month

Note

Hello, good man 👋🏻

Imagine that Nanami and the reader are rivals. They don't get along with each other until one day they get drunk together and wake up in the same bed.

warnings: drinking, smut, sex...lewd things

Nanami thought he was a pretty patient man, for the most part. Sure he would get annoyed at Satoru's antics, but he could brush them off for the most part. So when he met you, he figured he could just deal with it.

Yet you were the bane of his existence...

You remind him of Satoru a lot. You're too clingy and make too many jokes. You also like to try and one-up him a lot, which makes him angry. Oh it leaves him seething at times. He sees red whenever he's on a mission with you and you're just showing off. You do anything you can to take an opportunity to show off. Even if it means taking an extra few minutes, you'll make a grand gesture to show him how good of a sorcerer you are.

Then the jabs come in and that irks him too. You've called him "old man" jokingly one too many times. He always corrects you, stating that he isn't that old. But you always like to poke fun, making remarks about the bags under his eyes.

That is...until one night. Gojo invites you both out to a celebration for someone's birthday. And you and Nanami get into a drinking contest. It's not a contest at first, but you've just pushed his buttons one too many times. Soon, everyone is noticing how drunk you and Kento are.

By the end of the night, you and Nanami stumble out the door together. He insists on walking you home, despite finding you insufferable, because it's the gentleman thing to do. He holds your hand, even if he's walking a little more wobbly than usual. Once at your apartment, tensions melt and things change.

Your kisses are all teeth-clashing and tongues wrestling for dominance. Kento has you pinned to the wall, his strength apparent as he keeps you there with little to no effort on his part. You whine as he bites your bottom lip. Finally, after all this time, he's showing you the affection you wanted.

He gets you into your bed, tugging your clothes off in a drunken haze. You change things up by flipping him over and straddling him. Grunts and moans rumble through his broad chest as you begin riding him, your hips moving sensually but sloppily all at once. You even let him finish inside of you over and over again, until you both pass out in a sweaty cuddle pile.

The next morning, you wake up with a headache and a dry mouth. But Kento is still there, and he's still holding you.

"Took you long enough to figure it out," you tease him. Kento kisses you hungrily, "Who said I didn't already know?"

#bacon.thirsts #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #kento nanami x y/n #kento nanami smut #nanami kento smut #nanami smut #nanami x reader smut

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chronically-ghosted · 7 months

Text

in another life . . .

rating: explicit, 18+

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

word count: 7K

summary: Partner. That word had been jammed up inside his brain for as long as he could remember. Gym-class partner, lab partner, work-out partner, partner-in-training, partner in this fucking life or death situation where we’re only going to get out alive if we trust each other more than I trust myself. And then he met you and the definition changed again.

warnings: domestic!frankie, marriage kink (if that’s a thing), oral (f receiving) but i think that’s an expectation from every frankie fic, improper use of a kitchen table, unprotected piv, no use of y/n, brief mentions of PTSD, improper use of Spanish, eating in bed

a/n: requested for my 100 followers event! Anon: hiiii firstly! congrats on the big one hundo you totally deserve it 🥂‼️ secondly wondering if I could rq a Pedro boy drabble with prompt number 12... I wanna do laundry for Frankie Morales :D “did you just wash these sheets?” “I did.” “they smell nice. and they’re still warm.”

🤍Masterlist

. . . I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you.

Frankie fills the silence of the house without you in it with music. This house, it had been your choice, even though he never expressly made you choose, or even presented the dichotomy. This house, with its leaky faucet and janky AC unit and finicky pilot light, was what you wanted instead of a diamond ring, and so he gave it to you. First down payment, along with every other red cent you and he had both saved up, went into buying your first home together. This wasn’t forever, you both agreed (with only two bedrooms it wasn’t enough room for a baby, he often thought) but even as the real estate agent glanced around with disdain for the house and your budget, one look from you and it was settled.

“It has good bones,” you said, standing out on the concrete deck overlooking a postage-stamp-sized backyard. There were weeds in the corners and holes from some unknown animal but he could see the wheels in your head turning, imagining how you, like everything else you did, planned to tackle and wrestle control over it with your bare hands. “It needs work, but I think there’s something special here.”

“Yeah?” he asked, threading his fingers through yours, the real estate agent no doubt off somewhere inspecting the drains. “Is there something here?”

You grinned and shoved your nose then a soft press of your lips into his denim-shoulder.

“I’m sure of it.”

All his life, Frankie worked best in a unit. As children, his older brother, his younger brother, and him were practically inseparable, their physical similarities almost presenting as the same person but at different ages, and when that group disbanded because Oscar left for college, he went on to find another one. First, his army unit, then the boys. His boys. Left to his own devices, Frankie was terrible at remembering to eat, sleep regularly – focus on anything other than fixing cars and planes, really – but he’d do it for them. He hated to see that worried crease show up on Will’s brow when Frankie admitted he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He hated that Benny had to show up at his apartment to drag his ass outta bed to get him into the sunlight. And he hated when Pope felt obligated to take him out to bars to try and meet women.

“I’m not dating someone just so they can be my mother,” Frankie muttered into the lip of his beer bottle. “I don’t need anyone thinking I need to rely on them like that.”

“Yeah, but you do better when you have people relying on you.” Pope’s dark eyes flitted from a woman at the bar top to him, with intention and full of force. “And I’m not saying I’m trying to get you to fuck your mother, but you need a partner.”

Partner.

That word had been jammed up inside his brain for as long as he could remember. Gym-class partner, lab partner, work-out partner, partner-in-training, partner in this fucking life or death situation where we’re only going to get out alive if we trust each other more than I trust myself.

And then he met you and the definition changed again.

You are his best friend. You are the woman he wants to fuck every day for the rest of his life. You are the first person he wants to tell good news to and the first person he wants to talk to when he’s had a shitty day. Your voice quiets something inside him that has been far too loud for far too long. You are a relief and a refuge. For all his faults, you love him and sometimes he can’t fathom why.

You are his partner – in life, in marriage (one day), and forever (he hopes).

“I might not always like you, Catfish,” you said to him in Will’s backyard for Benny’s birthday party. You had been drinking and every sip seems to bring you closer and closer to him. With your face tucked up into his neck, arms up under his flannel and hugging his waist, the only way he could be physically closer to you was if he was inside you – which he was about two seconds away from suggestion when you leaned in close. “‘M not always going to like you, but ‘m always going love you.”

And love him you did. You loved him when he decided to go back to school to get some additional certifications so he could maybe teach flight school. The army would pay for most of it, was a fucking relief to your shared thread-bare, cartoon-spider-web empty savings account. But what the army would not pay for was for you to go to nursing school. You worked in hotels for the events services branch, coordinating everything from weddings to conferences, walking (mostly running) from one end of the hotel to the next. Your sister got you a Fitbit for Christmas one year and after the holiday rush, you walked twenty miles in two days.

“After that, this nursing stuff should be a breeze,” you said flippantly as you signed your paperwork for admissions.

Of course you got accepted at one of the better hospitals in the city – he never doubted for a second you would – and as the fresh-faced trainee, you got stuck with most of the night shifts.

Which meant his days looked a lot like this: wake up at 6AM, drive an hour to the helicopter tour building on the coast, fly rich idiots around all day, eat the lunch you had prepped for the both of you on Sunday night, continue flying rich idiots around, drive home in two-hour traffic, change into his work overalls, go work on some cars Benny’s buddy had at the local garage for some extra cash, then go home, heat up dinner you also made Sunday night, and then attend to the most pressing thing you or the house needed.

Which could be:

Fixing the AC unit, resealing the back door so it would close properly, re-caulking the shower, building more attic space, repainting the back fence, or replacing the hand towel holder.

Frankie didn’t mind the hard work. It kept his mind and his hands busy. What he did mind was the house silent and eerily empty without you here.

He didn’t mind the hard work because even for a few hours, he got to hold you while you slept. He got to eat with you at 10:30 at night and it was the highlight of his day.

Pay your surgeon very well to break the spell of aging

Sicker than the rest, there is no test, but this is what you're craving?

Frankie bobs his head, his earphones carefully tucked up under his shirt to prevent the laundry from tangling up in them. He hauls out the latest load and moves onto the washer, fishing out one more sock when suddenly the lights go off. All of them. Total darkness.

And then light and he’s staring down the bottom of the drum.

Then dark. And light.

You. Your code. One you designed when you read that PTSD victims are often triggered into a fight-or-flight response when startled. You, who knew before he did, how to manage the symptoms, create workarounds, and find a pathway through, instead of not at all.

He takes out one of the earbuds and smiles.

“Hey, you’re home.”

You lean against the doorway, smiling that smile that is reserved for him and him alone. Sometimes he’s selfish and wants everything of yours to be only for him – all your smiles, your laughter, your sighs – but that’s like trying to capture sunlight in a butterfly net: too focused on the impossible and you end up missing the daytime.

“How goes this fucking Sysphian task?” You nod at the baskets of laundry at his feet, referring to how you’d often rant and rave about how laundry, the dishes, and grocery shopping were never tasks that could simply be done. He knows how much you hate being unable to cross things off your to-do lists, so he holds your hand during all of these rantings and kisses your knuckles when you take a breath.

“Good,” he shrugs. “‘Bout to fold your scrubs for tomorrow.”

“Ah, have I told you lately that I love you?” You swing into the room and kiss him on his cheek, on the division where his patchy beard meets his skin – the place that you most often claimed on him. Your fingers squeeze around his bicep as you pull away and your eyes fall to the basket behind him. You gasp with glee.

“Did you just wash these sheets?” You ask like you’d just uncovered buried gold.

He smirks, propping his hip up against the dryer. “I did.”

Without another word, you scoop them up in your arms and inhale sharply.

“Mhmm, they smell nice.” You bury your head in deep. “And they’re still warm.”

In the rare moments when you’re both home and going through laundry together, he never fails to scoop up a load of hot towels and dump them over your head, relishing in the girlish giggle from beneath the clean laundry. “It’s so toasty,” you whimper with glee.

“They’re not gonna be if you get your hospital gunk all over them,” Frankie tuts, going back to add a new load into the washer as you glare at him over the lump of sheets.

“Ha, ha. Move over, Mr. Morales, and watch a master at work.”

“Yes, Mrs. Morales.” It’s stupid but his heart always fumbles when he calls you that. It started as a joke, one that you initiated, but now it’s like berry jam on his tongue, sweet and sugary. He’s thought about calling you that while he’s inside you but figures he should save something for the wedding night.

He sidles back, giving you space near the dryer as you pick up a basket of t-shirts.

“You know there’s dinner waiting for you in the kitchen.” He shakes his head as you begin to fold the shirts with lightning speed and precision – a side effect of being the oldest daughter in a family of five kids.

“Yeah, but you’re in here,” you say and bump his hip. He bumps you back and helps with the load. “Besides, it’ll get done faster with two people.”

He can’t exactly argue with that, so he lets the silence grow. But it’s not silence, not really. In the distance, dogs bark. Outside the room, the temperamental AC grumbles, a sound he never thought he’d come to appreciate. Inside the room, fingers tug at fabric, the soft thump as the shirts grow into a continuous pile. Then there’s you, breathing in the lilac-scented air, the scent of his deodorant and sweat and something entirely unique to him– his Frankie-ness as you’ve called it many times without elaborating. I’d bottle it if I could, you told him, bathe in it. You’re kinda weird, he told you, and you know he likes it.

Every once in a while, his elbow brushes up against yours, yours skirting around his, but never colliding, an awareness of the other always present and attended to, a flow of familiarity and recognition he’s never felt before or known since.

Bit by bit, you’ve taken pieces of him into you, picked them up, held them to the light and found them beautiful, until a second bit of his soul lives outside of his body. He knows every inch of you, how every atom calls out to him, begs to be close to him, and held tight. It’s not sunlight he’s trying to keep safe, it’s your heart. Your precious, wonderful heart that is somehow so full, it was enough to fill him up too. Gold filling in the cracks.

Kintsugi, Benny called it, when he got obsessed with anime for three months that one time two years ago. Frankie never could remember the actual name, and maybe that wasn’t the point and maybe it was a little ridiculous, especially when it was explained by a deliriously drunk and bleary-eyed Ben Miller at one in the morning on his brother’s lawn chair.

Maybe a better way of thinking about it was how separate, disparate, jagged and raw edges came to fit together. How someone like him got a do-over, another chance to be remade in the kiln, and how someone like you was allowed to love unselfishly, to ask for things and never be threatened with reparations of some kind – as if loving you deserved some sort of compensation.

Pieces, broken and scattered – he looked up and saw you carrying yours, and you witnessed the scars and blood dripping from the shards of his own past, his life, his love, and despite how slippery his pieces were, how dried and empty and wanting yours were, something pulled them together and made them stay.

Something stronger than light.

Stronger than gold.

You shook his hand and looked at what you built together, the pieces that came together, and in the end, that was your partnership. A creation of something greater – home, family, love.

So much fucking love.

In the end, Frankie Morales used love to build his life, not death, and you’re the one who gave it to him.

He drops the last shirt on the stack and he turns, his fingers seeking the drawstring of your pants.

You know what he wants. You want it too. A singular desire in two separate bodies.

The inherent closeness of domesticity draws you into him, closing the already limited space as hands find waists and lips find skin. He drags his nose against your jaw, somehow already shaking, his teeth grazing your throat, unwilling and unable to press his lips to you, wanting to drag this out as much as possible. He squeezes your hips, thumbs flipping under your shirt to touch, touch, touch, until his fingers wrap around your ribs and you make your first sound of the night. It snags at his restraint, pulling it threadbare.

“Frankie,” you sigh and he cannot fight the cataclysmic pull towards you – he stumbles, pinning you to the laundry room wall, his tongue cupping your earlobe into his mouth and he sucks. The next noise you make is high and keening and it turns his touch frantic.

Caught between the wall and his broad shoulders, he does with you what he wants. He nips at your cheek, your neck, the dip of your clavicle, as his thumb presses up each knot of your spine, drawing out the tension from your body like draining poisoned blood, and by the time he pinches off your bra, you’re all but hanging onto him.

“Baby–,”

He can hear you say, it’s late, we have work in the morning, you don’t have to do this,

I’m not worth this

With a low growl that is all possession, all anger that someone ever made you feel like your love was too much, he tugs your shirt off, knocking his hat off as he goes. In the drift, he sees your eyes flutter, mouth twisted in pleasure and guilt – you don’t want to be asking for things like this – and so he silences every doubt, every worry that he’s tired or it’s too late or his knees are aching too much to make you feel the way you deserve – he kisses you with enough force to knock out every unpleasant thought you’ve ever had about yourself and flattens you against the wall.

You let him pry you open, his touch fervent and insistent, tasting of iced coffee and gum. He licks into you, telling you things with his tongue, the way he tugs your bottom lip between his teeth, in the soft puff of breath that escapes him when you cup the back of his neck. Closer, he begs, closer.

His wide palm arching your lower back into him, he squeezes your ribs, up under your breast, before finally taking your nipple between his thumb and the meat of his hand and twists, just enough to make you break apart from his demanding mouth, gasping as if tapped by a live wire. But it’s him who is electrocuted, who catches fire, who wants to be chewed down and swallowed up. He shuffles and pulls you into him, the throbbing in his pants bordering on painful. He rubs himself against you once and you sigh like you know he hurts. You nod.

Your fingers peel your shirt up and over your head as he cups one thigh then the other until your hips hug his waist, smearing the hem of his shirt up over his skin. He feels the heat coming from between your legs, the slight dampness, against his lower belly and he groans, low, right near that source of warmth he wants to die in.

You curl above him, tipping his head back, as you dive into his mouth again, fingers twisting into his hair, thumbs brushing his temple right where you know he tends to get headaches. Your tongue brushes against his upper lip, tasting his mustache, and his knees threaten to buckle.

“You’re gonna fucking kill me,” he laments, he praises, into the supple wetness of your tongue. You nod, pleased, and press your chest into him. He cannot fucking wait to get his mouth around your tits.

Mouth sealed to yours, hands cupping the meat of your ass, Frankie works entirely on sense memory to carry you into the kitchen, to a long wooden table beneath a wide window, white curtains closed and blinds shut.

This table had been one of the first purchases for the new house. Tan cedar boards with white knobby legs, it instantly reminded him of the one in his own childhood home, where he and his brothers fought over meals and did homework together. Where he held his mom after his father died and where he dropped his bag after coming home from a life too long spent fighting other people’s wars.

This table mattered to him and he’d be damned if it wouldn’t mean something to his own child one day.

That was something you too wanted to give your child, never having a table like this in your own life. You loved the stories he told about the table in his kitchen. How much it meant to him.

And now he was going to fuck you on it, this symbol of stability.

He just wonders how stable it really is.

His fingers clutching the back of your neck, arm running in tandem with your spine, he lowers you down, shifting your weight onto his arm so you don’t bump your head against the wood. He releases you but you protest, a muffled uh-uh, as he tries retreating. You loop your arms around his neck, tugging him flat against you and he feels your breasts mold against his chest, nipples already tight.

“Baby,” he breathes, sucking up and out of your mouth, “let me make you feel good.”

Behind him, he hears your sneakers clatter to the floor, your heels digging into his back as you toe off your shoes, and you shake your head.

“I am.” Kiss. A thumb under his bottom lip. “You do.” Breathless, reverent, grateful.

Grateful.

Grateful that he is kissing you.

Not good enough. God, he’s going to eat that self-loathing right out of you.

You whine, frustrated and hot, as he pulls back. He wants to go right for your pussy, but stutters at the sight of your unmarked tits. Smooth, flushed, heaving. There is no part of you he does not love, does not feel the need to worship on his knees.

But suddenly sour shame strikes him as he realizes enough time has passed since the last time you’d had sex for the hickeys to heal. He intends to amend that right now.

His thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your hips, to calm himself, he folds himself over you, dribbling kisses along your throat, over the wings of your clavicle, at the barest incline at the top of your breast, and then to the meat of your tit, the heaviness, the sway, and he bites down. Predictably, you yelp, nails scratching roughly into his scalp and that only makes him suck harder. You have very strict rules around where he can mark you, but on the places he can – oh, you beg him for it.

He palms your other tit, just to feel the goosebumps break out across your skin, to roll your nipple with the calluses on his palm. His teeth release, his tongue laving over that already pink and swollen skin, and he glances up, his other thumb coming to massage that fragile patch.

Being a pilot, a soldier, a brother, a son, those are the things he is. But Frankie lives – aches, pines, desires – to watch you come apart.

The purple bruise on your tit shining like a luxurious necklace, your eyes flutter open when you feel him pull up. Your fingers around his ears, your chest wet with his spit, you let him take you in. You give him this, because you know you’re about to get so much more. With your legs still wrapped around his waist, he can feel the soft cant of your hips, the quiet, patient begging, as you thought he needed reminding that you needed this. You rub up him, knees pinned to his ribs, and he lets you pull him into your mouth, grounding him. This kiss is brief, soft, a far cry from the tearing and biting that got you onto the table. Knowing exactly the state you need to be in to ask for what you want, he holds your jaw, thumb against the apple of your cheek and he slips his tongue out of your mouth. Again a protest, an instinctual reaction to the repeated pattern of abandonment, but like all cries for help, he quiets your squirming by sliding his thumb between your lips.

“Suck,” he murmurs gently. Your eyes flutter shut, your nails carving half moons into his forearm, lips creating a vacuum seal around his knuckle and you obey – you suck – and he rewards you with a trail of kisses across your sternum, over your breasts, to the soft swell of your stomach. He nuzzles your belly button and you groan, eyes still shut and his thumb still in your mouth. He bites, softer than before, just above the thatch of hair and you whine around his finger, body going supple for him. He slides his thumb out, dragging a shiny string of spit over your plush lips, down your chin, joining his other hand at the waist band of both your panties and your scrubs.

Any fast movement will awaken that anxious, overthinking, beautiful brain of yours, now that he has it fuzzy and unfocused, so he keeps kissing, keeps sucking and biting, that spot just above your curls. He tongues your hip, and then the other side, your bottom half wonderfully bare before you can open your eyes.

His shoulder bumps the back of your thigh as he stands up right, inhaling the sweat behind your knee, the pungent tang of your glistening curls, your almond butter body lotion. It’s hunger, he feels, but not a tangible hunger, one that can be so easily satiated. It’s not painful, or weakening – no, he is made stronger by it. He feels your blood pulse beneath his hand on your inner thigh as he opens you up and he’s made better by it.

He kneels, a holy servant before the divine meal of their goddess, on shitty linoleum beneath harsh lights in a kitchen he can barely afford.

Frankie takes your hand, kisses your knuckles, and slides your grip into his hair.

“Recuérdame cómo te gusta, nena.”

He eats. He consumes. He licks. He sucks. He slurps.

He tastes your dripping wetness on the seam of your cunt, before his tongue ever gets the chance to explore, to open, to divulge. He licks until he feels your breath hitch – a curse in the shape of his name, as if he needs scolding for making you feel so good – and then he opens his jaw and tongues your hole.

In a lust-drunk haze you once told him he has something better than DSL – he has a pussy-eating nose. He prods you with that nose you can’t seem to get enough of, licking in as far as he can, coating himself in everything as it leaks out of you, and he moans as he can feel it on his chin. You vibrate with the sound and above him, your fingers clench down into his hair.

“Oh, fuck, holy – fuck, Frankie–,” your trembling shakes the bowl of your hips, spilling his meal, so he sucks your clit in a way that makes your body freeze and then melt. You go limp, pliable, and gushing. He gets a few more moments of twisting and sucking and swallowing, until by the third time he puts his lips around your clit, you open-mouth whine and it’s like his body violently remembers he has a cock. He is seized with such a need to fuck you in this warm, wet place he’s dug out with his tongue, he doubles over and rests his teeth against your thigh.

“Frankie, I’m so close,” you writhe, chest flushed and brow sweaty.

Before you, he never knew sex could feel like this, could do this. Sure, he used sex to keep away those circling, vulture-like thoughts from time to time. But this, this drawing out and unthreading, unspooling, of himself and someone else, tearing at ego-drenched threads until all that was left was a being of pure want and desire – he didn’t know this was possible.

He didn’t know he could feel like this.

One more broad lick, coating everything in what he hope fucking smells like him, and you arch, thighs shaking, his hair in danger of being ripped from his scalp. You gasp as you flatten, the first orgasm of the night rolling through you, sweat making your skin salty, as though you had been breached by the ocean.

He laps you through it, of course, a nascent smirk on his face.

You open your eyes to this self-satisfied Frankie, eyes only visible over the top of your cunt, and you whine.

You reach for him and he goes, smearing your slick over your face, offering it to you in supplication on his tongue. He tastes your rising desperation, the way you sharpen your teeth against his lips, batter his tongue into the corner of his mouth, try to claim what your cunt already has. His hunger is an infection and your fever has reached a boiling point.

Your trembling fingers curl his shirt up his back, passing over the ruddy scar on his shoulder where he got hit with a stray bullet, the jagged white line over his ribs where a knife nearly split him open. He used to only fuck with his shirt on. He doesn’t now.

His shirt crumples to the floor as he sits up, you following, eyes dark, and you bite his pec muscle, your love for him twisting you into an anthropophagist. You want to consume him, like your pussy swallows his cock. Having him impale you is not enough; you want intercourse with him on a subatomic level.

You inch back to give yourself enough space to unbutton his jeans and he sees the wet slick left behind on the table. The heat behind his groin shoots up his spine and he grunts, burying his face into your neck where he tugs on your earlobe with his teeth, hands planted on either side of you.

“Hurry, baby, I gotta fuck this pussy,” he whispers against the curve of your jaw. He wants to leave a giant purple bruise there, this instinct to claim, to mark, stoking the roiling heat at the base of his spine and drawing up his balls.

But his attention snaps back to your hands when he hears a click, the release of his zipper is almost euphoric. He moans in relief, unable to see through his half-lidded eyes the explosion of goosebumps over your skin as his breath tumbles over your back and down your chest.

His urgent hands overwhelm yours, one pushing his jeans down his hips, the other palming your stomach, pushing you back and you go willingly, but seemingly mesmerized by the sight of his aching, flushed cock springing up against his stomach. You lie down, but only barely, still on your elbows, as he tugs you by your ankles to the edge of the table.

Your uneven breathing could mean a lot of things. He thought you were being complementary the first time you told him he was too big, but your eyes always widened at the sight of his cock.

“Do you need to be opened up some more, cariño?”

At his rawest, Spanish came out of him like a spilled bottle of molasses, sweet, slow, rich.

“Hmm? Tell me what you need. Hable mas alto por favor.” He rubs your knees, your thighs, hoping you’ll ask for what he wants.

“F-fingers, Frankie,” you swallow, eyes still latched on to his now weeping cock. You glance up at him, face open and full of trust, and he feels his dick pulse. “Please, Frankie, put your fingers in me.”

“Fucking anything.” He plants one hand and cups your mound, lost for a moment in the soaked curls, before pushing two fingers inside and thrusting. “I’ll fucking give you anything you want.”

His hips jerking slightly in tandem with the pulse of his fingers, his slacked mouth an indication of how unconscious his humping has become, as he watches you dissolve with every stroke of his hand. God, he didn’t know they made things this pretty. His hand pushes your knee up and back, finding room for three fingers and your eyes roll back in your head. You scrabble for anything to hold onto, fingers searching for the ghosts of your bedsheets, but finding none, your arms curl over your head and latch onto the other edge of the table. You present your fucking tits to him like you’re letting him admire artwork.

It almost brings him to his knees.

“Oh, I’m coming, oh, Frankie, I’m gonna –,”

He pulls out his fingers just enough to let you gush down his palm, his wrist, and he licks it up like a glutton. It drips a bit onto the linoleum and he smears it with his bare feet.

Frankie slides two fingers back in, his brain going fuzzy at being away from the clutch of your cunt for too long, when you grab his wrist.

You can barely breathe, your skin a pale pink, your cunt no doubt must be sore, but your eyes are as hard as diamonds in your skull. He swallows the flush of spit in his mouth.

“Now, Frankie,” you plead, fingers tight around his wet wrist, the hairs on his arm standing up at the sound of your commanding voice. “Fuck me, now, I need you inside of me.”

It always makes him a bit dumbstruck, the way you beg, the way you let him and only him see this side of you – this side of you that is sick with wanting.

His hand squeezes the base of his cock once, eyes fluttering, to remind himself he cannot blow his fucking load the instant the tip of him is inside you. He taps your clit, once, twice, lubing himself up as if he hadn’t moved around internal organs to make way for himself. He notches, then slides, white-knuckling his impending orgasm in favor of making this good for you. He steps farther between your legs, hands sliding from your thighs, up to your waist. He thumbs your nipple and your pussy twitches around him. He swears his heart flat out stops for a concerning length of time.

“How is a pussy this good all mine? All fucking mine?” He rolls his hips, pushing deeper, movements marionetted by the high-pitched whimpers and moans of your mouth. He could catalog every single one of them, has done so in the deep recesses of his brain, and it takes just a second to know when it switches from pleasure to pain.

He bends over you, you choking on his dick, and kisses you hard, shattering the tense look on your face.

“I love you,” he tells you, a secret that despite being well-known to anyone who sees him look at you, still feels precious and fragile. His hand plasters your hair to your sweaty neck as he kisses you desperately, speaking a language only you understand. “I love you so fucking much.”

You sigh into his open mouth. “I wanna marry you, Fransisco Morales.”

He is covered in gold. Dripping with it.

His nails at your hip dig into your skin and you know exactly what you’ve done.

“Say it. Say it louder, nena,” he snarls, face pressed into your cheek, and he thrusts forward with enough force to rock the table. The table legs squeak as you pin him to you one more time and nip at his ear. The last drop in the well, the rope slipping over the edge, the coil locked into place.

“I wanna fucking marry you.”

With a breathy grunt, he yanks you down onto his cock by your waist and slaps your ass with his balls. It’s been a while since your cunt has taken a beating like this. You clutch at the edge of the table again, mouth torn open.

He knows you like it when he plays with your clit, and he will, but he needs to get this out of him.

“Yeah? You’re gonna marry the guy who’s fucking your pussy so good right now?” It’s amazing that words escape at all through his gritted teeth, jaw taut. He watches as he disappears and reappears in you, your lips puffy and pink already but he needs more. He doesn’t want you to be able to walk out of bed tomorrow.

“Yes, Frankie – oh, god, there, right there – yes, I’m gonna marry you.” He tips your hips up as he pounds down and you arch, crying out at the angle, the depth, how full you feel. He fucks like he’s trying to bruise your ribcage through your pussy.

The thoughts in his head collide with the others, knotting together, blurring, until the only noise he can make, the only thing he can verbalize is the tight grunts, the hm, hm, hm, as he focuses on chasing this fire.

He feels it approach so fast, he’s nearly taken under by the intensity of his orgasm so he slows, grinds instead, and with his eyes on your face, he cups himself around where he’s split you open, feeling your lips suck in and out with every thrust.

He closes his eyes briefly, helpless against the waves of arousal that coat his fingers. He smears your clit with his thumb and his name is a split, jagged thing that burns your tongue. He wants that taste on his tongue again.

You throb once, a sharp climax warming your pussy, and he backs out, drops to his knees, and licks you up again. He can taste his sweat there this time and he groans. His hands slip over your skin from the sweat in the crease of your thigh.

The cries from your mouth are wet now, on the curve of a salty tongue. You tremble like your orgasm is a physical thing, thrumming under your skin, warming your blood and you claw at his forearm.

“B-baby, please–,”

Wiping his mouth on your inner thigh, then licking up the mess he made, Frankie stands. He swats your bottom lightly, tutting. He’s a mad man, he knows it, he can’t tell if it's delirium from the rough ache of his balls or masochistic joy in hearing you beg, but again he rubs himself through your folds. It’s not the same, not nearly enough, but it helps last just a bit longer.

“No crying until after I’ve made you come.”

“I’ve already come twice,” you whine as you buck your hips, trying to take him in deeper. “You said I can have anything I want.”

“And what does princesa want?” Yeah, there’s definitely something wrong with him.

Your eyes flash as your nails dig into his shoulders, that fire he so loves to stoke flaring out.

“I want to come on your cock, Mr. Morales.”

And he unravels, divinity calling his name.

His pace is slow, then rough, then deep.

The table is just the right height. He balances on knee on the lip, bending your knees over his shoulders, and fucking down into you. He’s going to snap you in fucking half and maybe he does but he’ll be there to seal you back up again.

Pour himself into you. Fill you. Make you whole once more.

Baby, please.

The first drip of tears starts out the corner of your eyes as you come, open-mouthed, throat exposed, a cry loud and in the shape of his name tearing from your lips, your body locking up, cunt squeezing him until he feels himself burst.

With a shudder and a groan, he spills, hot and flush into you. He comes, and comes, and comes, until his gooey spend is forced out of you and down the crack of your ass. He can’t see anything past the white spark in his eyes, feel anything but you and the tingle of his limbs.

The excess of you and him is everywhere, leaking out onto the kitchen table, soaking the wood. There’s a ringing in his ears he can’t quiet.

Your breath is hot on his neck, sweaty skin stuck tightly against his, he knows he’s crushing you, his arms given out at some point, but he really doesn’t think he can stand up right. He kisses your cheek by way of apology and thanks but you don’t seem to mind, your own gaze unfocused on the ceiling.

“Fuck, Frankie . . .”

He laughs, realizes his legs aren’t working, so trembling and uneasy, he slides out of you and manages to make it to the floor. He blames the sudden dizziness on a lack of food and then blames the dizziness for lying down on the floor.

His eyes flutter and somehow you’re suddenly curled up next to him, your palm resting over his pounding heart. His fingers find their way up into your sweat-damp hair, thumb gently rubbing against the knot at the base of your skull.

“Your back is gonna be killing you in about fifteen minutes, sweetheart,” you grumble sleepily into his chest, a grin on your face.

“I can’t feel anything below my waist right now.” He yawns. “So, we’ve got some time.”

You nod, absentmindedly stroking the dark hair on his chest.

“We need to talk about Pope’s birthday party this weekend. Will put us on drink duty . . . but I can’t really focus on anything right now.”

“Good,” he smirks with his eyes shut. “That was some of my best work.” And then he frowns. “You need to eat.” He pokes your side and you huff.

“Okay, if you’re awake enough to berate me, we can at least go to bed.”

Groaning, you pull him up and he threatens to stumble you both into the wall, but he kisses your cheek and swats your ass, before snagging a tub of ice cream and a spoon. He meets you in the bedroom with the cap off and a smear of chocolate around his lips.

You’ve got one of his shirts, grinning up at him from the center of the bed, and he’s torn about whether he likes you in his boxers, or nothing at all.

You take the ice cream from him before he has a chance to flop down on the bed.

“Not exactly a nutritious meal,” you mutter around the spoon and he turns his face from the pillow to glare at you.

“That’s the other dinner I made for you, so eat.”

Your giggle is all you can give to show your thanks.

He rolls onto his back, groaning theatrically, before tucking his hand behind his head, and his fingers coming to rest on his stomach.

Behind the lids of his eyes, he can feel you watching him.

“What?” He grumbles, feeling around for your foot to pinch your ankle. He hears you move so he knows he’s close. “Not the right flavor, princesa?”

“No,” you laugh and prod his hip with your toe. “It’s just . . .”

His eyes open, finding yours in the half-lit gloom. You’re grinning the spoon in your mouth, eyes bright with something unnameable. You shrug, eying his hand between you both.

“I just never knew Fransisco Morales could be domesticated.”

He wipes the chocolate off your chin with his thumb.

Yeah, who knew?

#frankie morales #fransisco morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales smut #triple frontier #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #frankie morales x f!reader

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consistencynevermether · 7 months

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Astarion x Rouge! Tav

A/N: I am, as the professionals would say, back on my bullshit. anyways here's another in my series of Astarion x a certain class

part 1 (Paladin Tav version)- https://www.tumblr.com/consistencynevermether/730256251991310336/astarion-x-gn-paladin-reader-hcs-an-this-man?source=share

Bastard x bastard

You two are absolute little SHITS together let me tell y’all that

Your love language? CRIME.

No but seriously imagine this- one of you had this plain steel ring, nothing special or anything just collecting dust at the bottom of your bags. Honestly, you don’t even remember which one of you it originally belonged to

When you first met, one of you had stolen the ring from the other to prove they were “superior with their hands” to the other. Eventually, it became a game between the two of you, every few days stealing this little trinket from each other. And bragging until the other stole it back. It didn’t matter whether either of you wore it on your fingers, around your necks, or even hiding it in folds of clothing. Neither could hold onto it for more than a week before the other snatched it up

The most memorable little moment with this ring- once you had both gone on a late night walk, hand in hand. The moon's soft glow bathing you both in silver, it was like a scene out of a romance novel, especially when you leaned in to press your lips against his

And then-

While he was distracted you slipped it off his finger and booked it. Immediately running as fast as you could, not daring to look back, laughing as you sped off with your prize

Unfortunately for you, Astarion happens to be a vampire spawn. Vampire spawn are quite physically inclined, and Astarion is pretty fit

What I’m saying is you made it a good 30 feet before getting tackled to the ground and had the ring wrestled out of your hand

Honestly, though, you were laughing so hard you didn’t even mind losing the game, you were just happy that for a second your master plan had worked.

Astarion complained about how his outfit got all dusty because of you, but you had heard him laughing right along with you when he had tackled you to the ground

Astarion won’t admit this, but that ring means more to him than any bejeweled precious jewelry ever could, because it connects him to you

Both of you claim to have the best set of knives and take every opportunity to show off to each other with your skills. Once you actually picked a lock with a smaller blade and you could swear it caused Astarion to be a little flustered.

Sharing clothes? Sharing clothes. Listen, I'm just saying, will you let your vampire boyfriend burn up in the sun or will you lend him that nice new cloak you just got? Yea, that’s what I thought now it’s joint property. Dw tho it all evens out when you steal one of his nightshirts (it’s the comfiest thing ever, and not just because it always faintly smells like him)

You guys definitely do couples' heists together. Sneaking, pickpocketing, lockpicking, running from the law, it's all in a day's work for the most shifty couple in Faerun. One of you might distract a lord while the other snuck into his vault to retrieve some valuable magical item.

Ok but in all seriousness, y’all must be the most ethereal couple around. Imagine seeing two people glide over the rooftops of Baldur's gate, each jump almost like steps to a dance they both know by heart. Flitting around each other like ribbons in the breeze, one with soft silver hair and the other face obscured by their pitch-black cloak, hood pulled up and rippling in the night air. They dance across rooftops, swift as shadows, graceful as spirits, never touching, and yet somehow the rare onlooker knows they are meant to be a pair.

Some bard has definitely written a song about that last bullet point I promise you.

You two probably had a million cons just waiting to be used. I imagine during your time together trying to get rid of the tadpole, you would both talk late into the night, bouncing ideas off each other, throwing out ideas of different tricks you could pull on the unsuspecting. Some genuinely clever, most just absurd attempts at making the other person laugh.

If you ever actually got the chance to you it though? Oh ho HO. let me tell you how this went down. Your party had gotten into a situation, attempting to be as inconspicuous as possible. But by a bout of bad luck, someone had started harassing Karlach and at the same time, Lazel had started yelling at a guard, hand on her sword, inches away from striking. The party needed some sort of distraction, and luckily you both had just the thing.

Astarion had grabbed the nearest glass of wine and splashed it on you, then putting on his best offended face he anguished, “How could you cheat on me?!?! And with my own BROTHER!?!?” That sentence made everyone's head snap up, including the guards as you both laid the theatrics on thick. You kept this act up with Astarion for a good 10 minutes, with fake tears and dramatics from both of you. At one point on the spot, you made up that he had slept with your mother and it was revenge, and the crowd was extremely invested, people taking sides, guards trying to calm down the chaos. But hey you're fake out worked, Karlach and Lazel were able to sneak away quietly and you had both given the distraction of a lifetime. Shadowheart disapproves.

Occasionally the two of you will talk in Thieves cant to each other when you don’t want the party to overhear certain conversations. Originally you were both probably talking about important things like strategies and debating about how to go about getting rid of the tadpole. But now you kind of both just use it to piss off Lazel a little.

Ultimately you two really understand each other on a deep level, you really are 2 people with one mind. And together there's a world of adventure out there for you both, and infinite fun magical items for you both too “acquire”.

#astarion fic #astarion romance #astarion x mc #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x you #baldurs gate 3 astarion #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x y/n #astarion x rouge

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solar-wing · 4 days

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⚣ Submission 🗣️

⚣🗣️ A/N → Something I couldn't get out of my head after I saw this TikTok. You can't tell me this wouldn't be Jason in this situation. WARNINGS: none

⚣🗣️ Summary → Imagine being in a relationship with Jason Todd where you know Jason could easily beat you in a fight but it never stops you from talking shit as if you’ll fuck him up, and he just lets you…

⚣🗣️ Words → 851

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 🗣️

It’s not something Jason admits he finds amusing and adorable about you, but the fact that he lets you do it without any real pushback is telling enough. Because imagine, this towering and colossal-sized man, definitely over 6 feet and huge mass with the muscles to show and is a trained fighter (no matter how informal), getting beaten in a fight between him and his shorter and/or smaller boyfriend.

And it’s not to say you could never beat him in a fight, oh no! Your Jaybirdie would never want you to believe he doubts your capability and skills like that. Actually, he’d very much like and would encourage you to be able to learn how to take him down. It would help with his anxiety and fear of you being out in the world without him there to protect you, feeling more at ease knowing you could defend yourself if need be.

He’s definitely planning to make that a reality, because if you two are going to continue to be in a relationship, Jason needs to know that you can protect yourself without him there. It’s something you both talked about and he made it clear when you first got into a serious relationship about him and his family’s side careers.

But, until then, Jason will happily and silently enjoy the trash-talking and play fights with you. It just gives him more of an excuse to have your body rubbing against his, the perv…

It always starts small and silly.

Whether you’re just feeling playful or want attention, it doesn’t matter. You and Jason will be cuddling on the couch or the bed and engaging in your usual harmless domestic banter. Or he’ll be minding his own business cooking, reading, or going over cases and reports, and you’ll just come up and start messing with him.

Messing up his hair, poking him in his face, slapping his butt, and shoving against his body. Despite popular belief, Jason has a somewhat good level of patience and will endure it, but then you start talking shit.

“Oh, was that important? Looks like you’ll need to start over,” You’ll say after purposely jerking his hand while he was writing notes down on a mission report.

“Oops, looks like you dropped something. You’re so freaking clumsy,” said with a jeering tone after knocking the book Jason was reading out of his hands.

“Aww, is the little baby getting upset? Don’t cry baby, it’ll be okay,” You’ll respond in the most insulting baby voice knowing how much Jason despises it and usually ends up being his last straw.

The vigilante will give a soft shove and a warning look to you and that’s all you need. You’ll start taunting him even more and pushing yourself against him, grabbing at his wrists and arms as he holds you back.

“You feeling tough all of sudden? Am I going to have to mess you up like last time?”

Ding. Ding. Ding.

The next moment, Jason’s patience has officially run out and now, the two of you are rolling around on the bed, couch, and floor trying to pin the other. Well, you’re trying to pin him.

Jason’s just holding you off with ease and letting you slip out of his grabs now and then, letting you think you’ve got a chance. Of course, that leads to more shit-talking.

“Man, what kind of criminals are you fighting? You’re no match for me.”

Of course, as things will go when it comes to wrestling between two males, it eventually gets a little out of hand. You’ll shove Jason too hard, accidentally land a hit on his face or nether region, or you’ll even purposefully try to cheat to which your boyfriend responds by immediately putting you in a submission.

Never anything too rough or painful, just enough to immobilize you until you calm down and stop fighting back. But, even the non-painful ones are a bit much for you since you’re not used to fighting like Jason is, so you’ll typically give in within a few seconds, especially when he puts a little pressure on you and jerks you a bit as payback for all the trash talk.

It doesn’t stop you though, since as soon as you’re both done and back to whatever you were doing, you’ll continue to talk shit at your boyfriend like you had him in submission.

“Hopefully you learned your lesson.”

“We can clearly see who the big guy is in this relationship now. Don’t worry little man, maybe you’ll win again next time.”

“Light work. Maybe we should get you some classes small fry.”

And so much more trash-talking and playful jabs until the next round. But, Jason doesn’t mind. As long as he’s the one getting to put you in a submission at the end, he’ll let you trash-talk him all day, every day.

☀️ | Jason Todd/Red Hood | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

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hyunsvngs · 23 days

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Hannie and i are already basically the same person (anxious and introverted). so, i can imagine him getting just past his tolerance like just a little bit too high and going almost non-verbal (speaking from past experience). but he's just so horny, but he literally can't use his words. Hannie'd be so needy that he'll just grab your hand and pull it onto his half-hard dick and just whimper until you catch the hint. OR he'll just cuddle super close to you and start rutting until you decide (if you decide) to help him out

under the cut because maybe dubcon?!?! AH

he's scrolling through his phone, eyes looking away from you. his leg has started to jiggle rhythmically, hand firmly placed on your thigh, and you link your fingers together. you're not doing much yourself, just chilling, staring at the ceiling a little with how high you are. jisung's leg abruptly stops and so does his scrolling, and his hand clenches around yours a little.

"you okay, baby?" you murmur, and jisung hums in approval. it's a little shaky, but you let it slide. a few moments later, his spare hand has started to pull on the crotch of his joggers, phone discarded next to him. you turn to look at him and he huffs, head rolling back against the back of the couch.

"hnnfn." he mumbles, intelligently, and you giggle. he grabs your hand tighter again, but this time he moves it, shoving your hand down the front of his joggers. you're met with his cock, half-hard and steadily getting harder underneath your joint grip. "baby..."

"jisung, a-are you- did you- you're really high," you say, but you're already discarding his hand, gripping his cock and pumping him to full hardness. he whimpers, nodding eagerly, and you let him start to cant his hips against your grip.

"haaa, aah- ah, mmn-" he's babbling, slurring his words and not quite letting anything out, but he's nodding so vehemently you can't bring yourself to stop. his cock bumps against his joggers with every movement of your hand, and it only makes him wail, hand moving to grip your shoulder.

"is it good, baby?" you hum, lips pressing against his cheek. he only nods, turning to you to try to catch your mouth with his. he's messy with his kiss, spit swirling all over your bottom lip and your chin, and you can only suck his tongue into your mouth. you pull away with a bite, and he moans so loud you're thankful no one else is in. "is it dry? hurting your cock, yeah?"

jisung keens, nodding, but he makes no movement to slick up the friction he's getting. you know your baby likes pain, so you clench your fist a little tighter, cooing when his cock finally begins to leak.

"will you cum, baby?" you smile, and jisung answers you with pushing his joggers down. they hit the floor and he wrestles them off of his feet, parting his thighs further to show you just how hard he is. he's started leaking like a faucet, and his cock protrudes upwards in a curve that has your pussy gushing in your panties. "oh, sungie. you're so hard, so hard."

"i- yes," he wails, and when his hands move again he's gripping his balls himself. he clenches his hand around them tightly, and with a roll of his eyes backwards his head is rolling onto your shoulder. "c- c- hnng, ah- ah, can-"

"yeah, baby, c'mon, get dirty f'r me.”

#stoner!skz #so nervous about this one actually u guys #juno’s asks ♡#asks: jisung

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pandorasfavorite · 2 months

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I like imagining Dominik to be the neediest and messiest man ever. Like he can’t help but be drawn to you…

“Baby-“ he says in a hushed whisper, “babyy” he shakes your arm trying to wake you up. You groan and pull the blankets further above your head, shrugging Dominik off. He is nearly on top of you and one of his hands are clasped on your hip, pushing your body in attempt to wake you up. “Angel…love of my life…mami”, his hands peel back the covers and he kisses the side of your jaw. You flip over on your back to glare at Dominik fiercely and in a glimpse your eyes fly open. “DOM!”, you toss yourself on top of him, wrapping your arms around his neck, without a care. His strong arms wrap around you for the first time in 2 weeks.

He was away wrestling, and he couldn’t give you exact time to expect him back… considering he didn’t even know himself. You’ve been aching for him since the second he left and the surprise of him beside you in bed was phenomenal.

Now you’re perched on his lap staring at him with soft plush lips that are begging to touch his. Though as if he could read your mind, or maybe he was feeling the same way, his tattooed hand reaches behind your neck, pulling you in to crash your lips to his. His tongue slips between your open mouth, his lips sucking and brushing against your own. The second he pulls away he pushes your hair to the side, pressing his face into the side of your neck, inhaling you. “God I missed you”

You smile at how sweet he is, after all he was always attached to your hip if he could be. You push Dominik by the shoulders making him look at you as if you cut off his air supply. “How was your trip?”, you say so soft it could’ve been a whisper. He rolls his eyes, pushing you back against his chest and kissing your neck. His bottom lip dragging after every kiss. You giggle at the feeling of his face nudging you to the side, “Dom baby, how was it?”, you push him back one more time.

He grabs your hand and pressed it against his cock, “You feel what you do to me mami? Your pretty face and-“you feel his finger trace the outline of your boobs, “- this beautiful body”. His tongue darts out to lick his lips and he stares at you for as long as he can stand it. He clasps a hand gently around your neck, pulling himself inevitably closer, “Promise you won’t have to do anything, just let me make you feel good hm?”.

#dominik mysterio #dominik mysterio x reader #dominik mysterio fanfiction #dominik mysterio x you #dom dom #dominik mysterio fluff #dominik my bbg #dominik mysterio smut #dominik mysterio x reader smut #wwe #pick me

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revehae · 25 days

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tw // noncon. yes its rape dont ask me no stupid fucking questions

yesterday (over a month ago technically) i couldn’t stop thinking about apologetic rapist haechan like ugghhhhhhhhhh

walk with me. this is a man you trust to have in your home, spending time watching movies and playing video games together in between your stressful lives… you’ve confided in each other about all of your problems, big or small, and chat about everything under the sun. you give him advice that he doesn’t listen to, then has the audacity to complain afterwards. he’s got a spare key to your place and you’ve got one to his, and all your boyfriends over the years feel like they have to compete with him, but the thought is ridiculous to you. compete with haechan romantically? it’s laughable. sure the guy has seen you half naked, but it’s not like that, you’re comfortable, you’ve never seen him ogle you or heard him make some unsolicited comment about your body that even strangers have made… why would anyone have to compete with haechan? he’s your best friend, nothing more, nothing less.

you’re not sure how you could’ve been so wrong. the way you see it, the haechan you thought you knew wouldn’t take advantage of how comfortable you feel around him, the fact that you let him share a bed with you every now and then. it’s not necessarily strange for his hands to wander around you, he’s clingy and unconsciously does it in his sleep, but it is strange for them to be so firm at your hips, nails digging into your skin, sounds that aren’t soft snores falling from his whiny lips.

confusion dwindles. betrayal stings your eyes. haechan sees it, too. he lifts his head up, tosses the hair out his face, and meets your eyes. there’s no arrogant shimmer to his eyes or smug smile to his face; the opposite. there’s shame and guilt and sadness, you want to think, and he beats you to a word, uttering, “i’m sorry…”

but he’s not sorry enough to stop. not even when you struggle against him, trying to wrestle your way out of his arms. you and haechan would play fight all the time, but you never realized just how strong he really was until you try to wrestle out of his arms and he pins your arms in place, whispering, “please. i don’t want to hurt you.”

but he would if he felt he had to. you’re in disbelief, the ugliest feeling festering inside your chest as it tightens so hard you can hardly breathe. when you beg him to stop, he says, “i can’t.” because you feel so much better than he’s ever imagined, and he’s imagined it a lot, and he just “can’t resist” himself. his eyes are misty, out of pleasure or out of shame, but either way, he needs to do this. he has to.

he can’t look you in your eyes. he can’t look at your face at all, really. he knows what he’ll see, the tears pouring from your eyes that gleam with a fierce blend of betrayal and despair and ire and disbelief. haechan doesn’t want to see you that way. having to hear your sniffles, knowing it’s all his fault, is bad enough. but in spite of the pangs of guilt that really do tear at his chest, he’s still in the middle of you, holding you in place, using your body for his own relief. so he just keeps his clasp on your hips, squeezing his eyes closed, and mutters, “i’m sorry…,” over and over and over again, hoping it’s enough. hoping that you’ll bring yourself to forgive him.

it’s not like it’s long before it’s over. haechan’s not proud of it but you’re all he’s been able to think about and it’s not like he’s ever hit a pussy raw before, if ever. you feel so filthy when he pulls out of you - his cum gushing out of your hole - and so broken. haechan says he’ll help you clean, but you’re rushing over to the bathroom and locking yourself inside before he has a chance to do anything. he hurriedly pulls on his pants and spends a long ten minutes knocking on the door, trying to get you to open it even after you scream at him to leave you alone, but he can hear the shower running from the other side. and he decides to leave you alone for now.

haechan tries to make it up to you, he really does. he doesn’t want you to hate him. you have to understand. your body was calling to him, enticing him, and he tried so hard but he couldn’t control it anymore. he’s gone when you return from a really, really long shower that you took in hopes of feeling less dirty, but to no avail. every bit of relief you feel at his absence, which isn’t much considering that pieces of him linger everywhere - on your sheets and in your aching bones and everywhere in between - fades when you hear the front door click open and he returns with your favorite takeout in hand. it’s his way of showing you that he’s still your best friend, that he still knows and loves you, that he’s sorry.

you’re not hungry. you have no appetite after that. haechan tries to get you to eat, but the second he comes near you, you flinch away from him. you never thought the day would come, but you are scared of him. he’s not the haechan you thought he was, no matter how hard he tries to convince you that he still is. you beg him to go, to leave you alone, but he doesn’t listen. he never does.

#tw: noncon #lee haechan smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #haechan smut #nct smut #nct dream hard hours

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gunwoos · 9 months

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woo-jin x reader x gun-woo poly headcanons

sorry this is kinda short! also i've never written anything poly before so it might not be the best. i procrastinated finishing this all week cause my brain ran out of ideas but anyways enjoy 🫶

ok hear me out

u either meet them and they're already in an established relationship OR u guys r all best friends and they both realize how much they like u and how much they like each other and eventually u guys all start dating

ur guys relationship is such a fun dynamic. like ur dating both of ur best friends it really can't get better than that

u have a spot permanently reserved in between the two of them

whether ur walking down the street, taking the bus, ur in the middle of them

they lowkey fight over u (playfully) (woojin starts it 100% of the time)

like woojin asks u to come watch him at practice but u and gunwoo have plans to go somewhere and woojin is just like ??? "ur hogging her!!!"

he then proceeds to go on this long rant abt how sad and lonely he's gonna be at practice all by himself while u two have fun without him (jokingly)

all jokes aside tho u guys have a really secure relationship and are able to do things in pairs rather than all 3 of u being together 24/7

like u and woojin, u and gunwoo, and gunwoo and woojin all have ur own things u like to do in pairs and it's nice for whoever doesn't go to have some alone time

they (try to) teach u how to box if ur interested

or if ur a boxer urself even better! all 3 of u can practice and compete in tournaments together (ur gonna be rich from all the prize money u guys win together)

practices with all 3 of u usually ends up with u guys just messing around but it's fun while it lasts

trying to go to sleep with these two is chaotic to say the least. u guys all eventually end up moving in together and apartments r expensive so u guys thought it would be a good idea to just have one bedroom with a singular king sized bed in it

news flash it's not big enough for u and ur two tall ass boyfriends

like u guys try cute cuddling positions to start off but it just ends with u guys laying on top of each other and it's a mess but u guys r comfy so

woojin likes to fall asleep with his head on your chest and geonwoo likes to have your head on his chest

u usually end up with your head on geonwoo's chest, cuddled into his side with woojin behind / kind of laying on top of u or hugging the both of u. whatever position u guys fall asleep in doesnt last tho and by the time u guys wake up it's just a tangle of limbs

HOLDING HANDS. whenever u guys go out together , and especially if wherever u are is crowded, all 3 of u are linking hands

they're both protective of u. they're overprotective when it comes to danger and stuff like that considering what they went through with kim myeon-gil , but they're not super overprotective if ur talking to other guys or smth

they also don't get jealous easily. there's so much trust in ur relationship and u guys communicate really well , so they really won't get jealous unless they actually have good reason to be

if someone is like over the top flirting with u and getting touchy tho, they're both by u in an instant scaring whoever's bothering u away

they know u can handle urself but will step in if they need to

like just imagine ur at a bar or smth, u leave the table to go get the three of u more drinks and some guy starts getting flirty with u while ur waiting. ur ignoring him but the guy wont take a hint, the next thing u know both of your boyfriends are on either side of u, one has an arm over ur shoulders and the other wraps one around ur waist

the guy looks terrified and is out of there in seconds

playfighting. it's mostly just u and woojin unless gunwoo is in playful mood

like u guys start bickering about something unserious and next thing u know u guys r on the floor wrestling (he barely uses any strength obviously) and gunwoos just rolling his eyes and watching

u guys honestly have such a great relationship. u got so lucky to have not one but two amazing boyfriends who love u more than anything

nsfw under ⬇️

again, they're both tall and strong as hell so expect to get manhandled a little bit (gently tho)

like holding down ur hips while going down on u, moving ur body into different positions

the sex is GOOD. like hands down it's amazing

another thing, even tho they're both boxers, you're much smaller than they are and they're so SO gentle with u

i honestly don't think either of them would like it rough they're just so sweet and don't wanna hurt u in any way

i also don't think they'd wanna like.. be in u at the same time unless ur into that, like if u suggest it and confirm that ur 100% ok with it they'll be hesitant at first but they're just like "ok! ^-^"

like i said in the sfw hcs, u have a spot permanently reserved in between the two of them and yes that includes in the bedroom

this can go so many ways too

gunwoo behind u, leaving kisses along ur jawline and neck as u lean back onto him while woojin goes down on u

eiffel tower. (i'll write a fic abt this i promise)

with the 3 of u, the possibilities are endless

they're both so giving and like pleasuring u better than receiving (not that they don't love when u pleasure them too)

they're both obsessed with eating u out

they're both athletes, they're competitive and wanna learn and become the best they possibly can at whatever they're doing , including pleasing u.

the first few times u guys do it they'll pay attention to every detail, what u like and don't like, what u really like, what things turn u on the most, etc

by the time u guys are a few months into the relationship they know just how to please u

like the sex was already good but it's just so much better once u guys learn more about each other in a sexual sense

it also doesn't have to be all 3 of u every single time, if one of u is tired or isn't in the mood but 2 of u are, u guys can go off and do ur own thing without the other feeling left out or jealous

u guys have such a trusting relationship including in the bedroom which makes the sex even better

like i said in their separate headcanons, woojin is prob a little bit freakier than gunwoo

like i know this man at least has a pair of handcuffs and i swear by this

woojin probably brings out a more adventurous side to gunwoo (and u if ur not usually adventurous) in the bedroom and it's so interesting to see

#bloodhounds #bloodhounds x reader #bloodhounds fanfic #bloodhounds kdrama #kim gunwoo #kim gunwoo x reader #kim gun woo x reader #kim gun woo #hong woojin #hong woo jin #hong woojin x reader #hong woo jin x reader #headcanons #gunwoo x reader x woojin

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misojunnie · 9 months

Note

Hey! could i request hugs with &team?

And then a part two to this could be 'When you remove their arms from you when they try to hug you' if you enjoyed writing the first part?

Thank you sm<3

☆ hugs with &team!

ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ʚϊɞ.

byun eui joo - ej

ej is often not the one to initiate a hug. he keeps to himself, not wanting to show too much affection or cross too many boundaries. but when you hug him, he can’t help but feel so loved, resting his forehead against yours, just bathing in the warmth of your touch. he doesn’t even dare to move or say anything, just softly embracing you. ej is so sweet, but he’s nervous that the hug is going on for too long, or you might be uncomfortable. hugging ej takes a while to feel natural, but he has a huge smile on his face when you part, knowing that he loves you so dearly.

murata fuma - fuma

he’s a bit shocked when you first hugged him, but he quickly grows used to it. with the amount of muscle he has, his hugs are super warm and comfortable, his arms snugly wrapped around your waist, your chin on his shoulder. he hums gently and uses one hand to stroke your hair, smiling. I can definitely imagine you falling asleep while fuma is hugging you. while he might not be a big hugger himself, he can clearly tell when you need one, and has no problem indulging you.

koga yudai- k

k hugs only the people he trusts. it makes him feel strong to hold you in his arms, so trust me, he’s hugging you pretty often. he shrinks down from his full height, lowering his head so it can rest comfortably on your shoulder while he presses a soft kiss to your neck. k is often cold towards those he doesn’t know, so you really know he truly loves you when he spends full minutes with his arms wrapped snugly around you, just humming softly to himself as the two of you embrace.

wang yixiang- nicholas

nicholas has two sides: smug, and soft. when you first run at him, wrapping your arms around him and snuggling into his embrace, he chuckles against your skin with a little smile, whispering “did you really miss me that much?”. but it doesn’t take long for him to sigh and hold you tightly, letting himself get comfortable in your arms. he whispers sweet things to you as the two of you rock back and forth, just swaying and basking in each other’s affection. nicholas values physical touch so much, so hugs with him would be both frequent and sweet. he can’t last a day without a hug.

nakakita yuma - yuma

hugging yuma would put the biggest grin on his face. yuma typically loves to have his arm around your shoulders or around your waist when you’re out and about, but it’s rare full hugs like these that he truly treasures. his arms immediately fly to your waist, holding you so tightly you almost can’t breathe, and for a moment it feels like you’re wrestling rather than hugging, but that’s just him showing how close he wants to be to you. yuma is very affectionate, and hugs are his favorite kind of touch.

asakura jo - jo

jo is typically not too friendly. he’s not very touchy-feely, hence his constant rejection of romantic advances or affection from his friends. so when you hug him, it takes him a moment to process what’s actually happening. the warm feeling of your skin on his, your arms wrapped tightly around his torso. his hands float in the air, eyes wide, before he finally melts, coming down from his full height to rest his chin on the top of your head. he places one of his big hands on the small of your back, the other just between your shoulder blades. jo has a hard time adjusting to hugs, but once he starts, good luck getting him to stop.

shigeta harua - harua

harua loves hugs. hugging him would put a lovely smile on his face as he eagerly hugs you in return. the first time you hugged him, it was a bit awkward, a little short lived, but both of you were ecstatic afterwards. for the rest of the day, it was impossible to get him to leave you alone. harua throws his arms around your neck and laughs, the two of you spinning in a little circle while holding each other gently.

ta-ki

taki isn’t really used to hugs. he loves affection, but receiving it is a bit awkward for him. it took a long time for him to be able to gauge when a hug was appropriate, but now? he’s addicted. taki loves nothing more then your warm embrace, the feeling of your arms tightly holding him as he spins you in little circles. while taki initially wasn’t a fan of hugs, now he snuggles up against you at every opportunity. whether it’s from behind, from the side, or from the front. he just loves to be close to you when he can.

hirota riki - maki

hugging maki would just put the biggest smile on his face. he’s so happy that you want to physically be close to him, it absolutely warms his heart. he immediately wraps his arms around you tightly, resting his head on your shoulder and snuggling his face into the crook of your neck. maki makes himself at home in a hug almost immediately, and when you finally try to pry him off, he whines and rolls his eyes. and this boy is strong, so getting him off would take quite a bit of effort. he’d complain, but still has an enormous smile on his face.

ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ʚϊɞ.

a/n: whew this took a million years to write 🥲 I never really realized that there were so many &team members 😭 finishing this was a battle!!! but I super enjoyed it <3 more &team content coming soon!

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xothatnerdykid · 7 months

Text

what would you do? (baby, if you only knew)

When mysterious pro hero Eraserhead saves you one night, you insist on buying him a cup of coffee to say thank you. Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead x fem!reader drabble. Cute and fluffy but very suggestive towards the end (still SFW tho). 2,409 words.

"It's not safe to be out at night all alone, sweetheart," the man with the wolfish smile moves closer to leer at you.

Ignoring him, you wrap your coat tighter around you and walk faster.

As your bad luck would have it, this only riles him up further and he chases after you. "Let me walk you home, pretty little thing. Can't have you getting into trouble now, can we?"

"The only one getting into trouble…" Your voice quivers, but there’s a determination underneath your fear as you turn to face the stranger, “Is you!”

You spray your mace in his eyes but he’s faster than you, and stronger too. He wrestles it out of your hand and grabs your wrist, twisting it behind you.

Before you can even think to scream, the man’s already on the ground.

A figure in dark clothing emerges from the nearby shadows. He had your would-be attacker tied up in a matter of seconds.

“Don’t you know,” he said low and menacingly — too menacingly for a hero, you think — bending down to grab the man’s wrist the way he did yours. “That’s no way to treat a lady?”

He twists it until the man screams out in agony. “Gaaah! Alright, alright, already! Just let me go!”

“Not until you apologize.”

He looks up at you with frantic, pleading eyes, “I’m sorry. Now will you please tell this psycho to let me go?”

He loosens his grip on the man’s arm with a shove. “The police are already on their way to pick you up, so don’t even think about trying anything.”

The perpetrator grunts but bows his head in defeat.

“Are you alright?” The man finally turns to look at you, the harsh edges of his voice softening just a little when he asks you.

You take a good look at him and realize he’s almost intimidatingly taller than you. With a lean frame clad in all black and a grey scarf, his eyes are dark and piercing in spite of their obvious weariness. He has a scar on his face and long, messy dark hair.

But in spite of all these things, there’s a kindness to his expression and in the way he almost reaches out to touch you.

You nod. “Yes. Better, now. Thanks to you.”

He drops his hand and stuffs them into his pocket. Silence hangs in the air for a moment before he clears his throat, “Do you need an escort home?”

You don’t, really. It was only a block away from here and much better lit and safer than this shortcut you recklessly took, but you say yes anyway. “I’d appreciate that.”

Without another word, he falls into step beside you and you walk in silence. It’s not long before you’re at your apartment building door.

You want to say thank you, but — “I don’t even know your name.”

He shrugs. “You don’t need to.”

“I want to thank you properly,” you insist.

He eyes for a moment before hesitantly reaching out his hand. “Shouta.”

Oh.

You weren’t expecting him to give you his real name.

He mistakes your surprise for hesitation and almost pulls his hand back before you realize your mistake, hurriedly shaking it.

“Thank you, Shouta. I owe you for saving me tonight. What can I do to repay you?”

He shakes his head. “That’s not necessary.”

“Please, I insist. Do you drink coffee? Or like cats?”

He scrunches his eyebrows at you. “Cats?”

“Yeah, I work at this cat cafe not too far from here. Stop by anytime this week and I’ll have a free coffee waiting for you,” you offer hesitantly.

“Hmm,” he rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe if I pass by it on my patrol, sure.”

But his noncommittal answer makes you cross your arms over your chest. “Don’t tell me I have to get myself into trouble to see you again?” You half-joke.

He doesn’t laugh.

But there's the faintest glimpse of something akin to amusement in his eyes that you convince yourself you’re probably not imagining, so you take that as a small win.

"Your choice," You shrug and unlock the door to your apartment building. Turning to face him one last time before heading inside, you smirk. "See you around, Shouta."

He clears his throat but says nothing more. You leave him standing in the dimly lit street outside your apartment, but he doesn’t leave your mind for days.

_________________________________________________________________________

"So is the coffee here any good?"

You look up to the surprising sight of the man who saved you a few days ago standing in front of the counter. “Shouta!” You exclaim, and a genuine smile lights up your face. “Glad you could make it. This shift was starting to get the better of me.”

He rubs the back of his neck and you notice he has his hair up this time, the scarf gone. You can't help but stare at his hands and the exposed skin of his neck as he looks around the cozy cafe and all the playful felines.

When he doesn’t say anything, you offer, "Do you want to pet a cat? Or just a coffee?" Hopefully not to go, you think to yourself.

“You know I’m too old for you, right?” He asks instead, and you feel your face heat up.

"I don't think so," you shoot back. And despite how flustered you feel, you look him right in the eye.

He does the last thing you expect him to: he leans against the counter and chuckles. "Relax, I was only teasing."

Filled with newfound confidence, you smirk and look up at him from underneath your eyelashes. "I wasn't."

There’s a moment of charged silence where he looks like he might be on the brink of smiling again, the corner of his lip twitching. But he clears his throat instead and his expression turns stony and blank again. "So, about the coffee..."

_________________________________________________________________________

You tell him it'll be ready in 5 minutes, and he takes a seat in the back corner, playing with some of the cats and kittens. For someone who seems so stern and serious all the time, he's surprisingly gentle with them. You think it adds another layer of intrigue to him.

As you bring his coffee over, you notice him engrossed in rubbing a little orange tabby cat dozing off on his lap. And you know you're not imagining the smile on his lips this time.

"Enjoying ourselves, are we?" You can't help but poke fun at him as you set his cup down on the table. "Is this what heroes do in their spare time?"

He snorts. "What free time?"

"Oh?" You sit down across from him even though you know you're not supposed to (for reasons other than getting in trouble with your manager).

You cross your legs and brush your foot lightly against his ankle. And although he doesn't comment on it or react, he doesn't move away either.

“I’m flattered then, that you somehow managed to find the time to drop by.”

He shrugs, then takes a sip of his coffee. "You should've made one for yourself so you could keep me company.”

"I thought you said I was too young for you?"

"No, I said I was too old for you.”

You quirk your eyebrow in return. "And I said not to me."

And though you're just being your usual playful self, you can sense the subtle shift in the atmosphere as the moment lingers.

Shouta is looking at you intensely, and though you know him to be a man of few words, his eyes seem to be holding a conversation all on their own right now.

His little laugh breaks the spell, the sound deep and genuine. "You're relentless, I'll give you that," He shakes his head.

"And you're stubborn." You take the drink he offers you and make sure to keep your eyes fixed on him as you sip it. "What's it gonna take for you to listen?”

He quirks his eyebrow at you, and you don’t miss the way his fingers brush against yours when he takes back his coffee cup. “I’m listening…”

_________________________________________________________________________

Shouta comes back to the cafe a couple of times after that, and it’s always the same. You make sure you don’t take your break until he arrives and you happily spend all of it and more chatting with him in his favorite corner near the cat tower.

Each visit is a bright spot in your day, and you allow yourself the small hope that it is for him, too. The conversations flow naturally, a mix of light-hearted banter and personal stories. Shouta opens up about his work, his passion for teaching, and his love for cats. In turn, you share your dreams, your aspirations, and your random nonsensical thoughts with him.

And just like every other time, you have to force yourself to get up, sighing. "Okay, everyone's giving me the look again. My break ended about 15 minutes ago."

He holds his hand up to gesture that it's no big deal and gets up too. "Thank you for the coffee and the company. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

“No, no trouble at all. You know, you don’t have to leave just because I have to go back to work.”

“I can’t. Duty calls.” He rubs the chin of the little tabby cat on his arm and she purrs contentedly. “But I’ll come back. This one seems to have taken a liking to me.”

“She wouldn’t be the only one.”

You can’t help but laugh at the way your flirty comment leaves him a little flustered. He looked devastatingly handsome to you, frowning and turning away to hide his blush.

Clearing his throat, he sets the kitten down gently on the floor with the others.

As he turns to leave, you impulsively reach out to grab his wrist.

He looks at you, surprised, and you give him a playful smile. "Hey, one more thing before you go."

Leaning closer, you press your lips against his in a soft, lingering kiss.

He freezes for a moment, uncharacteristically caught off guard again (you seemed to have a habit of doing that to him). But it’s not long before he relaxes into the kiss, his lips moving against yours with an unexpected tenderness.

When you pull away, you search his face for any indication of his feelings and there’s a spark of something…soft and almost shy in his gaze.

“I’ll be looking forward to that coffee,” he says with his eyes half-lidded and his breath ghosting across your cheek.

"I'll be here," you smile, face flushed and heart racing.

_________________________________________________________________________

“You’re not wearing your uniform,” Shouta remarks when he sees you again.

And it’s such an unexpected thing for him to say when you have him pressed up against the wall of the tiny, dimly lit supply closet by the back of the cafe where you were just making out, that you have to laugh.

“I could say the same for you.” You grab him by the collar of his shirt and kiss him again, deeply, searingly. You love how erratic his breathing and his eyes get, the way his swollen lips feel against yours.

“I’m not working today,” He murmurs, breath mingling with yours.

“Neither am I.”

“Oh?” He pulls aways for a moment. “Then why are you here?”

You smirk, “Didn’t wanna miss my favorite customer in case he came in.”

His face immediately softens, and you revel at the warmth of his thumb lightly tracing the outline of your lips. “Is that so?”

“Yes. By the way, have you seen him yet?”

It’s his turn to laugh now.

The sound is so light-hearted and genuine that you can’t help the warmth that floods you at the thought of being the one to bring it out of him.

“No, but I’ll be sure to tell you when I do.” He brushes a lock of hair from your forehead and places a soft, lingering kiss there. “In the meantime, I hope you don’t mind slumming it with me.”

“Hmm,” you pretend to think about it for a moment. “I suppose…I could be persuaded…” You trail your fingers playfully up his shirt and then cup his chin. “But you’ll have to work hard to convince me.”

His hands wander down your back and stop to rest on your waist, his touch sending shivers down your spine. “Do you want me,” He murmurs in a voice so low and husky it makes your toes curl, “to show you just how persuasive I can be?”

You nod eagerly, and he smirks as he hoists you up and turns you around so that you’re the one pinned up against the wall now. He cradles the back of your head and leans down to capture your lips in another electrifying kiss.

You feel so lost in the sensations of his intoxicating taste, his hungry kiss, his hands roaming your body that you hardly notice yourself instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist.

He does, however, and feeling your grip on him suddenly tighten, hearing your small exclamations of pleasure — it’s enough to leave him just a little dazed and heady with desire.

You pull back for a moment to catch your breath, but he's not having it, quickly closing the distance between you again. He needs this. He loves it too much to stop.

You feel yourself smile against his lips and push him away gently. “Shouta,” you laugh breathlessly. “Give a girl a minute.”

He chuckles darkly, his playful demeanor from moments ago subtly turning into something more intense. “You know, y/n,” His grip on your waist tightens as he leans in again, his lips trailing a searing path along your jawline and down your neck. “I pride myself on being a gentleman…”

You don’t — can’t — respond, each touch sending a jolt of desire through you. You can hardly contain the soft gasps that escape your lips.

“So I hope you don’t feel offended by me asking this,” you feel his hot breath against your chest, up your neck. When he looks into your eyes, his gaze is smoldering. His dark and clouded eyes flicker down your lips for a moment before he continues, “But would you like to come back to my apartment with me?”

You’ve never said yes to anything faster in your life.

#aizawa shouta #bnha shouta aizawa #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa x reader #mha aizawa #bnha aizawa #amaya writes #aizawa sensei #eraserhead #aizawa imagine #aizawa shouta imagine #aizawa shouta x you #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shouta x y/n #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

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