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mydearestdaryl · 1 month

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ಇ. 𝑚𝛼𝑚𝛼 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

summary: you've loved daryl's daughter since you met her, but becoming her mama is only recent. warnings: twd violence, blood & gore, character deaths, mildly explicit language, implications of sex, not really proofread. pairing: dad! daryl dixon x greene! reader (fluff, angst if you squint, kinda). setting: terminus. credits to: @louifaith for the amazing plot idea, hope you like this! a/n: my first post so please be kind. i tried to keep daryl's character but it was hard. anyway, i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it, and i appreciate constructive criticism. ♡

it started on your dad's farm when daryl got shot by andrea. heather, his daughter, was younger then, almost two years old, and to keep her from seeing her daddy in the state he arrived that day, you showed her your childhood dollhouse, playing with her until your dad let you know daryl was better and resting in the guest room.

you went to visit him, baby in arms, and she immediately jumped into her daddy's arms when she saw him. he invited you to stay a little longer that night, not even knowing why he did that.

you became heather's (and daryl's) favorite person since then, and when her daddy was better and resumed the search for sophia, she pretty much demanded to be babysat by you and only you.

then the group lost the farm and spent months on the road. heather became more and more attached to you during this time, who would try to keep her positive and happy by telling her you were all looking for a treasure together.

she believed you when you found the prison, where you helped her decorate her and carl's cell with colored chalks you found.

one day you came back from a run with glenn and rick, happy and smiley as you handed heather the coloring book and crayons you found for her. glenn told daryl that the gift almost got you killed that day. too focused on the girl, you missed daryl's adoring eyes when he looked at you.

this happened multiple times. you missed how he was so protective of you, how he always made sure you and heather were fed and safe, the subtle blush on his cheeks when you complimented him, or how his eyes never left you if you weren't next to each other.

"i didn't even know 'er," daryl started. you were sitting next to him on a bench outside the prison watching the sunset as Heather sat on your lap, napping peacefully. "her mom," he added, stroking his daughter's downy cheek softly.

your eyes met his stormy ones, and after staring at each other shortly, he looked away, suddenly interested in the fences.

"me and merle had been holed up in our trailer as usual, him bitchin' 'bout how i never wanted to go out no more. jus' to shut him up, i agreed to hit the bar with 'im one night," he explained, nervously chewing on his bottom lip.

he didn't even know why he was opening up to you. but there was something about you that had attracted me since day 1. his daughter was a shy little girl with most, but she seemed right at home with you, bubbly and happy in your arms.

and his father was no different. his walls came down in your presence, even if he tried to avoid or deny it. and there was something between you and the hunter, everybody knew. everybody saw it but you two. idiots.

he believed you only liked him because he was heather's dad, and because he provided for the group. that was the only reasonable explanation to him. and you believed firmly he was only grateful that you took care of heather, so he was friendly in return. fools.

"i knew t'was a mistake soon as we walked in. place was too damn loud, too many people. but merle shoved a beer in my hand, said i needed to "loosen up." so i started drinkin'," he said, clearing his throat when he paused. "merle kept passing me drinks, an' i got real drunk."

"next thing I know, merle's leadin' me outside, sayin' he's got a 'surprise' fer me. turns out the damn fool hired some lady, had her waitin' round back. i told him no way but he kept calling names, tellin' me I wasn't a man…" daryl talked and lowered his volume as he stared at the girl in your arms, eyes always softer when he looked at her. "woke up in the mornin' feelin' lower than shit."

"'bout nine months later there's a knock at the door. the lady's standin' there with the tiniest baby i ever saw in 'er arms. pink lil' face scrunched up and her hands like fists—looked real funny then.” he chuckled at the memory and you smiled as well, imagining newborn heather until daryl went on.

“couldn't believe somethin' so fragile was spawned from my sorry ass," he added. you wanted to speak, to tell him he was an amazing man, but you knew that right now he needed just you to listen.

"the woman told me if I didn't keep her she was gon' get rid'a her somehow. i wasn't sure she was mine but I didn't care," his eyes finally made contact with yours again, smirking as if he was about to tell a joke. "then she grew up and…"

"she's your twin," you giggled and he nodded, his gaze finding his shoes. If only you knew what the sound of your laugh did to him. "how did you choose her name?" you questioned. it was something you wondered often.

he chuckled again, meeting your gaze again, "she didn' have a name for a month," he explained with a smile. "then ma uncle said she needed one, and i called her all the girl names i could think of until she smiled at one."

"she named herself," you said with a breathy laugh, placing a kiss on the head of the adorable girl holding you while she slept, your eyes were this close to turning into hearts, and unbeknownst to you, his were just the same, but while looking at you.

the memories seemed too distant now.

the second prison attack seemed like a blur. one moment your dad was dead, and then daryl was cupping your face, telling you to get heather and leave. now you both were camping in an abandoned rv five days later, the almost-three-year-old blissfully unaware of the stressful situation, for all she knew, you two were on a little vacation. a girls' trip.

maybe keeping the girl in such a state of ignorance was foolish, knowing the chances of never seeing her dad again were high, but she was a toddler, a baby, and you'd keep her unaware and happy as long as you possibly could.

sleep claimed you at some moment of the late night, much to your dismay, since you had been too paranoid to allow yourself to sleep and not keep watch for the past days.

"mama, mama, maaaama," heather called you in a sweet, sing-songy voice as she cradled your face with her tiny hands, shaking your face gently. you opened your eyes quickly, instantly searching for dangers, but there was none nearby. it was now morning, though.

then you realized what she called you, and your heart skipped a bit. she called you mama. she considered you her mom.

"hey baby," you softly cooed. you smiled brightly at her, cupping her sweet little face and placing a short kiss to her nose.

"when we gonna eat?" heather spoke letting go of your face to play with her bunny plushie. a gift from daryl.

"oh, you're hungry? we still got an apple left, let me slice it for you," you said, moving her off you to go get the apple and knife from your bag. a grumble was heard from your stomach as you sliced the red fruit, reminding you that you hadn't eaten in 3 days. all the food was for heather now since it was getting harder and harder to find any.

"mama's hungry," heather giggled as she took the napkin with the apple slices and started munching on it. you hummed and tickled her, not wanting to deny or confirm it as you sat next to her. heather handed you a slice, and even though you wanted her to remain fed, you figured you'd find more food today and took the slice from her hand, eating it slowly to make it last.

yes, you knew it didn't work like that.

"you know what we're doing today?" you started as you got the baby wipes you found in the last drugstore you came by, cleaning her face and hands. oh, how you missed showers.

her cute face lit up with excitement, she had already complained of being bored in the trailer before. "we're going on an expedition today!" you explained, eyeing the stain on heather's shirt she had been wearing for the past couple of days. "we're gonna find food, and maybe new clothes, perhaps a toy, how does that sound?"

"yay!" heather celebrated, making you laugh, "and we gonna find daddy!" she added with a gasp, beaming excitedly. your heart dropped, but you didn't let it show, simply faking your best smile.

"oh, but we're on a girls' trip, honey, daddy will have to wait a little longer." heather nodded and you got your bag ready, although it was almost empty.

you got your quiver on and held your bow with your right hand, heather holding the other hand. "now, remember the rules? if i say yellow…"

"i hide, close my eyes, and be quiet," heather said, skipping as she walked next to you, "and if you say red we run," she added, looking all adorably serious.

"perfect," you praised her. "we're also looking for a new place to sleep, would you like that?" she nodded, crouching down to pick up a rock she found pretty.

in the trunk of a car, you were lucky enough to find two bags of chips on the verge of expiring, but still good, along with a bottle of water—it was a little warm but it was good too. the girl happily helped you put the stuff in your bag before you both quietly continued your journey in search of somewhere to camp.

on your way, you found a sign with a map. some place called terminus seemed to offer shelter for anyone, it claimed to be a sanctuary. it seemed too good to be true, but it was also too dangerous to stay out here with heather another night, so you decided to give it a shot.

you walked almost all day, holding heather when she was too tired, and boy, was she getting heavier, but at last, you found terminus that night. there, the people seemed kind and attentive, perhaps too attentive. obsessed, almost. mentioning how rare it was to see a little kid lately, and going on and on about how sweet kids are.

your gut was telling you to run, to take heather far from this place, so kindly declining the food they were offering, you took your girl in your arms and told them you still had to find her father, as an excuse.

this infuriated these weird people, making them point their guns at you and the sleeping child in your arms as they threatened you to try and move. your heart was beating so fast you thought heather would be able to feel it. you begged them to let you go, holding your kid as tight as you could so she wouldn't see what was happening.

an older woman approached you, attempting to pet heather's hair, but you slapped her hand away. she huffed and whispered in your ear, "oh, don't worry, we'll keep you together. kids and women taste good together."

a couple of the men dragged you to a sort of shipping container, locking you and heather in there, taking your weapons and bags away.

you felt thankful for the darkness for hiding your tears, so when heather asked you what was going on, you faked a happy voice and told her you were in a cave and you'd be safe here until tomorrow. rocking her back to sleep.

you got no sleep at night expecting these cannibals to show up. you were ready to put up a fight. the kid woke up in the morning, maybe around 7 or 8 a.m., which you guessed based on the slight shift of light that peeked through the thin gap below the door of the container.

to keep heather from being afraid, you played with her to guess the number, letter, or word you spelled on her back with your fingers, earning a bunch of laughs from her. but all too soon, one of the men who welcomed you suddenly opened the door ordering both to come with him, dragging you when you begged him to let you go.

he took you to a room with tables that had all kinds of stuff, from toys to jewelry, to clothes and shoes. they were belongings of other people.

the man's voice interrupted your thoughts. "first, take your earrings, necklace, and shoes off, and put them where they belong," he instructed. "the kid can put the toy over there," he pointed at the pile of plushies and toys. your heart ached for the kids that you assumed died here.

"mama?" heather spoke to you, hugging your leg. "i don't wanna leave bunny," heather quietly said, and you could tell she was getting scared, but you didn't know how to turn this into a game or a story, and only a nervous stammer left your lips.

"i'll come back to let you know when you can take your clothes off," the man said, eyeing your body in a way that made you want to poke his eyes out. "try anything funny and i'll make you watch as we eat her," he whispered in your ear, almost making you gag from the way his hot, stinky breath hit your neck. you stared daggers at him as he laughed and left through the back door. "i'll be right outside," he said all too cheery.

you felt grossed out. the only difference between these people and walkers was that they were alive and aware, and that thought alone made you feel more uneasy.

"daddy!" heather squealed happily, making you turn your head so fast you were surprised you didn't break your neck, but you only found her reaching for the crossbow on the table of weapons. how did you miss it? It was daryl's crossbow, no doubt. with the little stick figures that heather drew on one side. "nama, daddy's here!"

"yeah," you said almost breathlessly as you grabbed the weapon. "he is," you said, still processing the new information.

"let's go get him!" heather declared, but a loud explosion made both of you jump, heather let out a little scream, hugging you again before she started crying. you held her as you slowly approached the door to hear the commotion outside, hearing the guys that were on guard rush away.

you opened the door, seeing nothing but chaos outside.

you closed it again, setting heather down and kneeling to talk to her. "okay, baby, right now we're going to get away, okay? we're going to run. it's red, got it, honey?" you said as calmly as you could manage. She nodded as you gently dried her tears.

"okay," she whispered. "i trust you, mama," she said holding you tightly.

after a few seconds, you rushed to grab your bow and arrows, as well as daryl's crossbow, slinging each on one shoulder before grabbing a machete that was on the table also. you held heather who wrapped her little arms around your neck, hiding her face in your neck with her eyes shut so she wouldn't have to see anything.

everything felt in slow motion when you stepped outside, stabbing in the head the walkers you came across almost robotically, adrenaline and fear rushing through your veins, and trying to find a way out without being bitten. though a gap in the fence you managed to get heather through, and you carefully climbed over it.

you walked for about ten minutes until you heard voices. daryl's voice among them. heather's wide eyes made contact with yours, and she pointed to where the noise could be heard from.

"heather and (y/n)?" your hunter asked.

"yeah! i saw them, i thought they were behind us. i called them. they probably didn't hear me!" carl explained, a hint of stress and sadness in his voice.

"the're still there, i'm goin' back for 'em," daryl announced.

you whispered something for heather to say, which she repeated brightly: "you're probably gonna need this!" her tiny voice made all eyes turn to look at you immediately. there were some new faces, but you were only focused on daryl.

his teary eyes made contact with yours, his breathing was heavy, and his lip trembled. you stared at each other for a minute until his gaze dropped to heather and he finally broke down. heather and you ran to him, he and you kneeling for a family hug. "daddy!" heather called happily, eyes closed from the big smile she wore.

you were finally home—the three of you were. his arms protectively around his two girls as heather beamed peppering his father's and mother's faces with sweet kisses, drying your tears too. she didn't understand why you cried when she was so happy, but she didn't question it.

impulsively, he held your face softly with his free hand and his lips met yours. it was a peck, quick so he could pull away before you reacted in case it wasn't welcomed, but you grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him in again, pouring all the emotion both had been too blind to notice before into the kiss.

you only pulled away when you heard heather giggle next to you.

taking a proper look at her daddy now up close, she gasped, looking at his blackeye. "mama, daddy got a owie," she pouted, "mama gonna make it better," she told her father, placing a hand on his shoulder in utter seriousness—adorable.

"i'm sure mama will," daryl hugged his daughter, meeting your gaze again, but this time his eyes were softer, adoring, and loving, and yours were just the same. heather nodded before his dad tickled her with his beard, making her laugh loudly, which made the rest of the group smile as well.

maybe things weren't perfect yet. life was not perfect, but this moment absolutely was.

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon headcanons #dad!daryl

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hwanghyunjinenthusiast · 9 months

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Mr. (Not so) Perfectly Fine

AN: Not sure where this came from, but here we are. Maybe one day I'll write Josh in a non-toxic way lol. Also tagging Kai @lovelyhan because it's the law. I joked about writing a series of fics based on Taylor Swift songs. This fic isn't part of that idea. I just thought this title felt fitting (it's based off of a Taylor Swift song for anyone unaware).

Synopsis: Falling in love with Joshua was easy. It came to you easier than breathing. It's no wonder, then, that when he offers you a fraction of his affection after shattering your heart months ago, that you would grasp for it. Regardless of the consequences.

General tags and warnings: Joshua Hong x Fem! Reader, not super relevant to the plot but, this is a Non-Idol AU, exes to exes with benefits, elements of angst, Josh is emotionally constipated, Soonyoung and Seungkwan featuring as supportive but, tired friends, discussions around Reader having low self-esteem and being self-loathing at times, discussions around an unhealthy relationship and returning to it, alcohol and alcohol consumption, Seokmin featuring as a genuinely good guy who probably deserves better and discussions around jealousy and possessiveness on Josh's end.

Smut tags: mentions of throatfucking, mentions of piv sex with a condom (I know who am I?), mentions of a Daddy kink, it's implied that Josh is pretty self-centered (generally but, sexually more specifically) but, that does get remedied later, nipple play (f. receiving), Reader sucks on Josh's fingers, praise (f. receiving), implications of Reader being a bit of a masochist, Reader sits on Josh's face, overstimulation (f. receiving), pet names, dirty talk, begging, piv sex without a condom, marking (f. receiving), biting (f. receiving) and creampie.

Word count: 8514 (...I don't want to talk about it.)

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

The first time you found yourself at Joshua's doorstep was an innocuous Thursday evening. The sun had begun its descent on the horizon when you began the familiar route to his apartment building. You're not entirely sure what possessed you to knock on his front door, or what had possessed you to drive there to begin with. However, when he swung his door open, dressed in nothing but, a simple black shirt that clung a little too tightly to his broad chest and some grey sweats. Surprise colouring his handsome face, you knew it was too late to back away now.

To your shock, however, Josh had let you in without much question. Stepping aside wordlessly, you took the very obvious invitation. The sight of his living room was familiar in a way that churned the pit of your stomach. You weren't going to fall apart in his living room like the way you had when he broke up with you. You wouldn't allow yourself to. Wasn't it pathetic enough that you'd come grovelling back to him without much of a reason as to why? That you're likely about to have the most uncomfortable conversation that you've had in your entire life?

You're not sure what you'd expected from Joshua. He joined you on his couch, always too white for your liking but, didn't say anything. You weren't sure if he'd been waiting for you to explain why you're at his place after close to four months of next to zero contact.

Idiot. Of course he was.

"I," you start but, the words never seemed to find you. You focused on the pictures that decorated his wall. Choosing to look at anywhere that wasn't him at the risk of losing your already fickle train of thought. Pictures of him in suits with different friends and business partners. His work smile working overtime in all of them as he'd been showered with endless awards and promotions.

His work had always been the love of his life.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," were the first words he'd uttered to you in months. That had caused you to whip your head to face him. Reading Joshua was a skill you had never been able to master.

Master? You doubt you'd even be considered an amateur at it after a year of being with him.

His face betrayed little but, a barely there glimmer of understanding bled through that even you managed to catch. Understanding is an emotion you wouldn't typically associate with the someone like him. However, it flickers across his too handsome face nonetheless.

Perhaps you should've consulted an exorcist because before you know it, you're not sure what caused you to kiss him. You two have barely spoken, and there you were, gripping his shirt like a lifeline and kissing him on his stupid couch as the figures in his photographs act as spectators. You were going to apologise. You were going to erase him for good from your brain and dig a hole for yourself to crawl into.

But, then he'd kissed you back. His kiss, much like him, wasn't all passion and desperation. It was slow. Methodical. His soft lips refamiliarising themselves with your mouth once more gradually. As if he had all of the time in the world. Testing to see if this would be worth it. If you would be worth it.

Whatever he had been looking for during his exploration, he seemingly found because before you knew it, you found yourself amidst the sheets of his bed. Cool, navy blue sheets acting as a balm to your far too hot skin while his large hands mapped the expanse of your body. His heavy cock bruised the back of your throat before you found yourself arched for him with your face in one of his soft pillows and his long fingers in your hair. After months of no sex, specifically no sex with him, it took you a few long moments to adjust to the sting he provided.

From then, it was bliss.

His pillow muffling your whimpers and moans. Cries of 'Joshua' and 'Josh' and 'Daddy' were partially swallowed by the soft material. Your fingernails clawed at his sheets while he found relief in your body. His hips stuttered into you and filling the condom he had hurriedly put on, especially when the last title had hit his ears.

The two of you dressed in silence. The ruffling of your clothing and the sounds of the city all that you had to comfort you. When you stood on unsteady legs to leave, he hadn't walked you out. Not that you expected him to but, that didn't stop the sting from developing behind your eyes and your throat from growing tight.

Bliss was so, so easy to come back to. And come back, you did. You and Joshua still hadn't spoken all that much. Not putting any labels on... whatever tentative understanding the two of you had. You simply show up to his apartment, and he knows what you're here for. If you can't have him the way you want to, you'll have to settle for the way he needs you.

Two weeks.

Two weeks is the longest time you've gone without knocking on Joshua's front door. You can't help the guilt that twists up inside you and shreds your insides. However, you know rationally that you have nothing to feel guilty about. Joshua isn't your boyfriend anymore. He hasn't been for six months now. The two of you simply find solace in each other's bodies. It has just been easier with him than expending your time and energy on trying to meet anyone. Especially with how little energy and time you have as it with work all but, drowning you.

However, as Seungkwan has tried to sear into your brain, this isn't exactly healthy. Letting yourself fall into his bed and come apart underneath him for the past three months is likely in your top five unwisest decisions you've made in adulthood.

But god, it's just so easy.

"You know you deserve better," Seungkwan stresses to you for the likely millionth time. His typically kind face marred with a frown that does not suit him in the slightest. His glass of wine left completely untouched on your coffee table with his arms cross over his chest. Soonyoung nods, taking a sip of his own wine before speaking, "He's a dick. He's pretty much been using you since the two of you started dating."

"That's not true," you protest, your wine sloshing dangerous before you simmer down a little. "Joshua has his....issues but, I don't think it's fair to say all he does is use me. I mean, I'm the one who showed up to his door after us being broken up," you argue, "If anything this is a mutual using of each other."

"Except you're in love with him," Seungkwan deadpans. Soonyoung once again nods in agreement. Traitor.

"I'm not in love-"

You promptly stop talking when both men shoot you looks. Your face warms and you hide in your glass of wine. The liquid pleasantly heating your veins and acting as a phenomenal distraction from the gazes of your friends that are far, far too piercing.

"We're just here because we're worried," Soonyoung says softly and you can't bare to look into his eyes right now. You're too scared to see what you'll find in them. You're not sure what's worse. The pity or the frustration from the two of them.

"If it makes you two feel any better, I haven't gone to him in two weeks," you respond weakly. Despising the knot that builds in your throat and the tears that burn your eyes. You feel no better than when you were in university crying to them about shitty hookups and even shittier exes.

"That's a great start," Seungkwan responds sounding genuinely happy. Genuinely proud of you. His warm, larger hand grabbing yours and rubbing soothing circles into your skin. "Also, I'm sorry. I know you're an adult and I don't want to come across like I'm scolding you but, it's really hard watching you go back to him and break your heart all over again."

Oh, the guilt is back. Different but, present all the same. At this point, it's become an ever present companion for you.

"I'm sorry too. I know it's not fair for me to put the two of you through this either," you whisper in response. You don't think you're capable of speaking any louder right now.

"Hey now!" Soonyoung butts in, grabbing you both by your shoulders and crushing you to his chest. Seungkwan, to everyone's shock, only protests minimally, "What are friends for? Now both of you stop being so gloomy. We're here to get tipsy on cheap wine, inhale all the carbs we can and watch bad movies. Get it together."

The laugh that Soonyoung forces from you is foreign and a little rough around the edges but, it's one of the few you've managed in longer than you care to think about. And if you cling to him more fiercely than usual, he has the grace not to mention it.

It gets a little easier after that. You haven't found yourself knocking at Joshua's door for a good month now. Soonyoung seems ready to throw you a party over it and the same pity isn't as present in Seungkwan's gaze when the three of you find the time to catch up with each other.

Joshua never messages or calls you in the time you don't spend in his bed. You suppose you shouldn't be surprised. You're typically the one reaching out to him and making the journey to his apartment to experience a fraction of him. To bask in whatever he's willing to offer you.

You're not sure whether what you two have can be classed as affectionate. It was better than nothing, at least, you had supposed.

You still can't help the sparks of bitterness that fester in your system when you open up your chat with him. A simple 'Okay' from him being the last message in the conversation when you asked if you could come over. God, you were pathetic. Sad. Desperate.

Perhaps it's pettiness or spite or the resentment or maybe some part of you still wants his attention but, you send him a message before locking your phone for the night and turning away to face your windows. The voice in your head (that sounds suspiciously like Seungkwan) echoes that maybe that wasn't a good idea. Maybe allowing your anger to get the better of you wasn't wise. However, what's done is done. You just hope sleep finds you quicker than it has over the past two years.

You: I'm going on a date on Friday.

Seokmin is a nice guy.

No, calling him nice isn't fair or true to the man's character. Nice is vague. Meaningless. A platitude at best.

Ever since Soonyoung very heavy handedly sent you his number in the hopes that you'd focus your attention elsewhere, you two had been speaking borderline nonstop for a week now. Him regaling you with the less glamorous aspects of being an actor and you venting to him about a particular unruly classroom. You'd learned that he cried easily and had a weakness for anything dogs related. He'd learned that you love musicals and random historical facts.

It was the first time in a long time Joshua had barely crossed your mind. He still had but, it was an improvement. A week wasn't realistic enough to completely be clean of him but, you were taking steps. Seokmin definitely made it less difficult.

So, when Seokmin, nervousness rolling off of him in waves even over text, had asked you on a date, it was a no-brainer that you'd agree without much question. You deserve a pleasant night out. It also certainly doesn't hurt that Seokmin is an Adonis of a man.

You honestly don't remember the last time you were giddy over a date. Over a man. Butterflies kicking up in a storm in your stomach when you agonise over what you should wear. The temptation to cancel springing up more times than you count with every drag of your hangers and article of clothing that adds to pile accumulating on your bedroom floor. Fortunately, you find a dress in the back of your wardrobe that clings to you in a way that balances attractive and formal masterfully.

Seokmin is somehow even more attractive in person. All the pictures you came across during your search across his social media accounts do not even begin to do him justice. He's funnier too. His tales of disastrous productions and poor costume fittings prompting laughter out of you the likes of which mostly Soonyoung and Seungkwan are able to. Before you know it, it's already been three hours, and your mostly plates and glasses remain largely untouched.

"I had a great time," Seokmin starts once you two are outside. Whether it's the breeze or his proximity to you, goosebumps rise on your skin. It doesn't help that his cologne infiltrates your senses and muddles your mind further. The butterflies have chosen now to make a reappearance as well.

"Me too," you reply, your cheeks hurting from how hard you've been smiling all night and now isn't any different. Seokmin looks for all the world that he wants you to kiss him. Kind, brown eyes fliting down to your lips in a way you assume he hopes is subtle but, it's not. Terribly so. It's cute though. He's cute. However, you think you're going to take it slower this time around. As infatuating as he is, you know you're in no place to be kissing anyone.

Before you can bring up a different topic to help cut some of the tension weighing on your chest, your phone vibrates in your hand. Alerting you that your Uber has arrived.

"Looks like my ride is here," you tell him with a disappointed turn of your lips. For all your reservations, you really wouldn't have minded spending some more time with the man who would put the sun to shame.

"Have a safe ride home. Text me when you get home, okay?" And his blinding smile spreads across his handsome face once more. You've only known Seokmin for a short period but, it feels freeing to talk to someone whose feelings you don't need to attempt to decipher. They're there and clear as day on his face and in his words. Or maybe you're projecting. That's possible.

"Will do. Text me when you get home too, okay?" You reply, steeling your resolve before pulling him in for a hug. Hugs are fine. Safe. At least a safer option than kissing. Seokmin happily returns the gesture and heat that you haven't felt in some time begins to simmer in the very pit of your stomach when you feel how solid he is.

Now is not the time.

"Of course. It was nice getting to finally meet you in person. Hopefully we can see each other again," Oh. The butterflies certainly feel strongly about that.

Untangling yourself from his built frame is unpleasant, and a deeply irrational part of you wants to continue to cling to him. You opt to shove it down. "Hopefully," you respond with a coy smile, "I'd like that." And you truly would.

Seokmin watches you enter your Uber. He watches you until he can no longer see the car, and the gesture brings a smile to your face so wide that it feels a little foreign. If the driver hears your dreamy sigh, they choose not to comment on it. Thoughts of the actor with perhaps the brightest smile you've ever seen in your life fill your mind all the way to your apartment. Seokmin is still occupying your thoughts as you greet the on duty security and enter the, thankfully, empty elevator. More people don't need to see you practically levitating over this man. Over one date.

The smile that's been stinging your cheeks drops from your face when you notice a figure lingering at your front door. You can tell even from this distance that it's Joshua. Your steps grow more hurried, the clinking of your heels echoing through the empty hall. You suppose you're grateful that none of your neighbours are out. You're not entirely sure how this is going to go based on the anger bubbling up inside of you at the sight of your ex-boyfriend.

Joshua turns his head at the sound of your heels and he has the nerve to smile. To look relieved. You beat him to the punch for once instead of allowing the very tentative wall you've meticulously been building since the last time you found yourself in his too cool bed to crumble.

"What're you doing here?"

The bite in your voice takes even you by surprise but, you're too tired and a touch too fed up to really care about potentially offending him. Your arms crossing over your rapidly rising and falling chest as anger courses through your veins.

For all your inability to typically read him, the surprise on his face is clear as day. You don't think you've ever seen him look this unsure, a nervous hand carding through his short, dark hair. Oh. He must have cut it in the time you haven't found yourself on his doorstep.

"Hi uh," he stutters in a way deeply unlike him, "Can we talk inside?"

A voice that sounds very much like Seungkwan screams to send him away. To cuss him out where he stood in your hall and send him back to his sterile apartment that you never quite seemed to fit into.

However, you've never been good at saying no to him.

"Fine," you spit, walking to your front door and unlocking it while he stood by just hovering. Admitly, beneath the frustration and anger and annoyance at seeing him again after what has felt like ages, a miniscule part of you is curious why he's here.

Joshua walks in after you easily. The same way he used to when the two of you were together. The knowledge simultaneously dulls and sharpens the knife that twists in your gut but, you push it aside. Maybe an actual conversation is far overdue so, you can finally be free of him. Your coworker Wonwoo likes to joke that closure is just an invention of fiction but, just maybe this is your chance to find a fraction of it.

He shuts the door behind him while you turn on the lights. You want nothing more than to kick off your heels, pour yourself a glass of wine and regale Soonyoung and Seungkwan with all the details of your night. Joshua sure has a knack for ruining your plans.

"So, what do you want to talk about?" You ask once you've gathered all of courage. Leaning against the back of your couch, waiting for him to explain himself. Ignoring the way your throat burns seeing him in your home again.

"How was your date?" Are not the words you were expecting and they throw you utterly for a loop.

"What?" You blurt out sounding completely flabbergasted, "Is that why you're here? Fucking seriously?" The anger that's been simmer under the surface grows in ferocity once you begin to piece together why he's here. Why he's decided to reinsert himself into your life.

"You're here because you're fucking jealous?"

He has the nerve to look affronted by the assertion, "I'm not jealous-" he starts but, you're beyond frustrated and annoyed right now. Seungkwan would be proud.

"Joshua, please. Then why are you here? Why are you asking about my fucking date? Because you want an update on my life? You haven't reached out to me in fucking months!" You exclaim and you just hope you're not loud enough for any of your neighbours to hear. Though your concerns around that are minimal as the object of your anger walks towards you tentatively.

"I know," he sighs, continuing to run a tired hand through what you assume was his meticulously styled hair, "Honestly, I'm not sure why I'm here. I'm sorry. I just- I just miss you, I think."

Soonyoung has always been fond of calling Joshua an asshole over the course of your relationship and even after its end, but, in this moment, you realise Josh is not just an asshole, he's cruel.

His admission renders you speechless. You probably look comical just staring at him as his words sink into your brain.

'I just- I just miss you.'

He continues on his cruel streak, your carefully constructed walls falling to pieces with every syllable that leaves his full lips, "When you sent me that text, it just felt so awful. I felt awful and I think I realised just how much I missed you. Missed having you around. So I just got in my car and drove here," he breathes out, nearly tripping over his words in a rush to get them out, "I think I'm starting to understand why you came to my place all those months ago," he laughs with very little humour.

You think this is perhaps the most vulnerable you've ever seen him. More than your first date. The first time you told him you loved him. The first time you two slept together. All of those moments could not ever hope to hold a candle to the unadulterated emotions stirring in his doe eyes right now.

"You really suck, you know that?" You respond, the watery quality of your voice not going unnoticed, "Just when I thought I could let you go and move on, you just had to come back and do all of this. Say all of this," you mutter tiredly, shutting your eyes to just have a moment to yourself to think. To breathe.

The press of his forehead against your own is startling but, and you won't ever admit it to anyone else, comforting. It just feels so good to allow yourself to melt into him. The familiar scent of his too expensive cologne infiltrating your senses and muddling your brain further. Your hands grasp the front of his shirt, a shuddering breath leaving your lips.

"I know. I'm sorry," he whispers, and he's just so close, and you remember how easy it was to fall in love with him. How easy it is to continue to fall into him every chance you can.

So you do.

Everything, every voice that sounds like a friend screaming at you that this is a horrible, stupid idea, that you've been doing well, are all silenced when you press your lips to his in a kiss that is more hesitant than anything else. He kisses you back fiercer than you anticipate. Than you're used to from him. Swallowing your startled gasp like it's the first thing he's consumed in days and cupping your face with his large hands. His teeth nip at your bottom lip briefly when a whimper falls from your lips from how aggressive he's being.

"This is my favourite dress of yours," he mutters into your mouth between kisses, the tender way his thumbs brush your face juxtaposing with his desire to seemingly consume you whole, "I've always thought you looked gorgeous in it. So beautiful. Sexy," he continues, one of his hands drifting to palm at the thickest part of your exposed thigh. Arousal pools in the pit of your stomach. The fact that it's been months since you've been with him, been with anyone, fully hitting your body based on how quickly you find yourself becoming wet and your thighs rub against one another.

"My beautiful girl," he whispers, not giving you enough time to process his words before his mouth descends on you again. His hand kneading your thigh in a way that could be considered desperate if this was anyone other than Josh, shoving the material of your dress higher.

Once you remember you can touch him too, your hands find themselves in his now shorter hair, the inky locks filling the gaps between your fingers easily and the groan he presses into your lips worsens the ache you feel at the apex of your thighs. You want him. You don't think you'll ever stop wanting but, seeing him lose his composure for once has your panties sticking to you in a way that grows uncomfortable fast.

"Bedroom," you whisper, maybe part of you is worried that if either of you speak too loudly you'll burst this bubble you've found yourselves in. Josh just nods, tugging you to wobbly feet and pushing you towards your bedroom. His mouth never leaving yours while his hands touch and feel and grope and paw at every part of you they can reach. You try to not think too hard about how this reminds you of the first time he spent the night here and, how easily he seems to remember where your room is.

Fortunately, it doesn't take the two of you long to bump against your bedroom door. Fumbling with it longer than necessary while being lost in each other. A breathless giggle from you fills the quiet space when he curses while struggling to shut it behind him. Your laughter doesn't last long. His lips pressing scorching kisses to your throat as you settle onto your bed. It's like he can't even go a few seconds without touching you somehow. The thoughts prompts your heart to thunder in your chest.

"Can I take this off?" He asks against the hollow of your throat, impatiently tugging on the straps of your dress. You nod quickly, shuddering when he runs his teeth along your pulse and you feel him lightly grinding against your thigh.

"I want you to use your words, baby," baby. He really will be your demise. You can't remember the last time he called you that and, it only further fogs up your mind.

"Yes, Joshie, please," you whimper, your fingernails biting into the muscles of his biceps. The veins on his forearms coupled with the way the muscles flex is just so hot that it feels just the slightest bit unfair. Briefly, you wonder if he wore a short sleeve shirt because he knows how just a little bit stupid his arms make you.

He stills over you. His lidded eyes widening in surprise and, that forces you out of your lust-filled daze. He beats you to it before you can question his change of demeanour.

"You called me Joshie," is all he says in explanation at first, fingers ghosting over your shoulders. The barely there touch causing goosebumps to rise on your skin, "You haven't called me that since we broke up," he finishes and the raw emotion in his eyes renders you unable to respond for a few, long moments.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't-"

"It's okay. More than okay, actually," he cuts you off with a shake of his head, tossling his hair even more, "I didn't realise how much I missed hearing you call me that and Shua until now," he leans down, heavy eyes focusing on your well-kissed lips as his hands begin to slowly undress you, "Please keep calling me by those names."

The control he had slips out of his grasp as his hands tug down the straps of your form-fitting dress. While you'd much rather wind your arms around his broad and solid torso, you concede for these few minutes to help him undress you. Helping him free your arms from your straps before he tugs it off of your body in record time. Between how quickly you find yourself nearly naked and his words, you can't help yourself reaching for him and he happily complies. Nestling himself between your thighs properly while his hands squeeze your breasts over your bra.

"Shua," you whine into his mouth, your hips jolting up to his when you feel him pressed against you. Your hands tug him as close to you as humanly possible. Determined to fuse yourself to him and, based on the way his grip on you grows harsher, he doesn't seem to mind the idea all that much.

"God, I fucking missed you so much," he groans, nuzzling himself into your neck once more. Licking and kissing every millimetre of your skin he can, and every breath hitting you sends you further into madness. You suppose after months of not being touched, even his breath fanning against your skin is enough for goosebumps to rise to your skin and your thighs to clamp around his waist.

"Missed you too, Shua," you sigh, arching into him when his soft lips drift from your throat to sear kisses to the tops of your breasts. His hands reaching behind you to skillfully unclasp your bra and toss it somewhere onto your bedroom floor. Completely forgotten as he takes the opportunity to drink in the sight of your breasts moving with every greedy inhale and shuddering exhale you take.

"God, you're beautiful," he sighs in a way you'd almost describe as dreamy. His irises totally swallowed whole by his dilated pupils. The 'thank you' you intend to respond with is wiped from your mind when he latches onto one of your hardened nipples. His massive hand kneading your other breast to ensure it's not neglected. Your fingers weave into his hair, tugging on it with each tug of his plump lips and lick of tongue. His fingers tugging on your nipple enough to make you gasp from the embers of pain.

"Always so responsive," he chuckles throatily against your skin, pinching your nipple to prove his point. His eyes glinting at the way you moan and grind against his prominent length.

"Stop teasing," you whine, pouting at him. You're taken aback by the way his eyes soften considerably. Leaning up to press a heartbreaking gentle kiss to your more than likely bruised lips while his hand drifts towards your thighs. Swallowing your keens as his stupidly long fingers drag themselves over your panties. Coating them further in your wetness while you attempt to ground yourself by clawing at his broad shoulders.

"I'm sorry," he says and, based on the way he speaks, you're not entirely sure what he what he's apologising for.

His fingers shove your panties to the side and touch your slick folds directly before you're left with your thoughts for too long. "Joshie," you cry into him with every barely there brush of his digits. Your hips bucking into him when they circle your clit before continuing their leisure stroke of you.

"You're so fucking wet already," he groans, returning to your breasts to litter them with much harsher kisses. His fingers shallowly dipping into your entrance but never giving you the satisfaction you so deeply need. "All of this just from some kissing and playing with your tits, baby?" He asks, glancing up at you like you could realistically answer with his long fingers touching you and his breath fanning across your breasts. The amusement in his tone prickling your cheeks in embarrassment, more of your wetness leaking out of you and onto him.

"Or maybe you just get this wet for me." He muses out loud with a grin that's too smug for your liking. "Don't roll your eyes at me like that," he chuckles. However, the lightheartedness of the moment is cut short when he brings the hand that's been toying with your pussy up for you to see.

"I mean, it is true though. Isn't it?" He poses with a glance to gauge your reaction as his fingers spread, your arousal webbing them. You wouldn't be surprised if you were radiating enough heat from your face to rival the sun.

"Shua, that's embarrassing," you whine, avoiding his intense gaze, choosing instead to focus on an imaginary spot over his shoulder.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about, baby," he mutters, resting his slick fingers on your bottom lip and focusing on them fully, "If anything, I'm flattered," he finishes with another arrogant uptick of his lips. It doesn't take much nudging for you to part your lips and for him to push his digits into his mouth. A quiet groan hitting your ears when you hum around them, your tongue licking up the taste of yourself eagerly.

"Fuck," he hisses, his thumb catching the drool that slips past your occupied mouth, "I should let you suck on my fingers more often. You look so pretty with them in your mouth," he mutters, grinding his hips against you as he memorises the sight of you gagging on his fingers and lapping at your essence. "Plus, I know how much you like them. You're not very subtle," he laughs, pulling them from your drooling lips and leaning away from you.

He doesn't give you much time to complain or miss his warmth over you, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of your soiled panties and tugging on them so frantically you're worried that he'll rip them. Luckily, they remain intact and soon join the heap of your clothing strawn all over your bedroom floor.

You don't typically have the presence of mind and time to feel self-conscious when you've been with Joshua. Too preoccupied with shutting your brain off and enjoying whatever time with him he lets you have. However, the way he pauses and his eyes leisurely scan your body now tempts you to hide in your pillows. Your heart trying its utmost to burst out of your chest and your blood roaring in your veins all you can hear.

He doesn't leave you to spiral for much longer. Tugging off his shirt that costs more than you think a plain, blue shirt has any right to. Your walls clench hard when your eyes land on the expanses of muscle, skin and arms that are available for you to fully consume.

"I want you to sit on my face," he says and his words are laden with so much unflinching desire. His eyes reflecting the same emotions and, you didn't think it was plausible for you to get any wetter yet, here you are.

"Shua, you don't have to-"

"I want to," he cuts you off with an air of finality. His gaze holding your own and waiting to see if you'd push this.

"I was such a fucking selfish asshole," he huffs, dragging the hand not covered in your spit down his handsome face, "I'm sorry."

You soften at that. Reaching for his hand and lacing your fingers with his, "It's okay."

"It's not," he argues, squeezing your hand before letting it go and settling beside you, "You deserve better than me, you know."

"I've been told," you respond dryly, trying your utmost to keep the images of your friends out of your mind. Basking in the warmth of his body.

"I'll make it up to you. Every chance I can. I promise I'll make it up to you. So, come here," he says as though his words don't close up your throat and cause your heart to hammer against your chest. When he looks at you like that, how could you ever dream of denying him?

Joshua's eyes never leave yours the entire time you move to settle yourself on his handsome face. The look in his eyes makes you feel like you're being set alight from the inside out, only finding a brief reprieve when his focus shifts from your face to your pussy. Large hands palming your thighs while his eyes drink you in.

"Come here," he commands, pulling you towards him. The strength in his hold causes your walls to flutter but, he doesn't force you. Giving you the chance to settle down on his face at your own pace. It doesn't take you much more prompting to do so. Carefully straddling him to make sure he can still breathe and that you're not smothering him. Joshua, however, doesn't care for your concerns. Firmly pulling you down onto him and latching onto your clit like a man starved. Not allowing you a moment to catch your breath. Long fingers biting into your ass as he guides you along his face.

"Shua," you cry, steadying yourself on your headboard while he continues to eager lap at your clit. Your thighs quiver around his head with every suck and lick he gives you, his hold helping you along his tongue. If you could find the strength to crack open your eyes, you would've noticed him watching you. His cock twitching in his boxers with every shuddering exhale and moan from your bruised lips.

The knot in the pit of your stomach tightens faster than you anticipate. Perhaps it's not being touched by anyone for so long or, perhaps it's simply Joshua that has your orgasm building up so quickly. From the way he groans into your drenched folds and his fingers dig into your so harshly that you wouldn't be surprised to find imprints on your ass later, he doesn't. If anything, your fragile state just motivates him. The vibrations from all of his own sounds of pleasure coupled with his unrelenting tongue made it so you really never stood a chance.

He continues to lap at you through one of your most intense orgasms. The grip you have on your headboard bites into your skin but, you can't bring yourselves to care when your walls spasm continously and your vision darkens around the edges. Overwhelmed tears spilling from you and streaking overheated face.

"Joshie," you whimper, your hips attempting to jolt away from him but, his strength is unrelenting. Keeping you firmly situated on his face while his focus shifts lower. A shudder running down your spine and goosebumps once again prickling your skin when he chooses to lap up your wetness directly from the source. The prods of his tongue and brushes of his nose on your clit make your stomach feels as though its tangled in a series of complicated knots.

The tears continue to fall freely as the overstimulation settles itself into your very bones. Your second release hits you like a runaway train. Your choked moans and cries of his name echoing so prominently throughout your bedroom, you're a little worried your neighbours might hear you. Joshua doesn't seem to care all that much. Cursing into your twitching entrance as more of your wetness seeps out of you and onto his awaiting tongue.

His hold on you eases up significantly after that, and with the near nonexistent energy you have and on still shaking thighs, you move off of him. Gracelessly plopping yourself down next to him in an attempt to regain sensation below your waist and come back from whatever dimension his mouth sent you to.

"Are you okay?"

Cracking a tired eye open to meet his heavy but, slightly concerned eyes proves to be a mistake. His hair is a complete and utter mess. Sticking up in every which direction in a way that just endearing him to you. However, the flush to his cheeks and sheen of your juices on the bottom half of his face quickly diminish any less carnal feelings you felt bubbling up for him. Despite nearly blacking out from how hard you came. Twice. Your body still opts to betray you. Your walls clenching around nothing at his dishevelled state and the outline clear as day in his dress pants.

"Yeah," you manage to croak out, cringing at the scratchy quality of your voice.

"Good," he mutters before kissing you. It's much gentler this time around. His tongue still snaking its way into your mouth and, the taste of yourself on it is enough for you to pull him closer to you. Tugging on his hair with every press of his plush lips and nip on your bottom lip. You're reminded that he's very much still hard and hasn't cum when the weight of him rests against your thigh. Just the idea of his cock pulls a wanton whine from you, which he happily swallows.

"Want you," you pant against him, trying your best not to allow yourself to completely lose yourself in his swirling, brown eyes.

"You have me, baby," he responds with more meaning than your fuzzy brain can process right now. His thumb caressing your cheek while he plants quick but, gentle kisses to your lips.

"No," you say, reaching one of your hands between your bodies and cupping him over his pants. He groans against you, his hips jerking against your hand, "I want you, Joshie," you emphasise with a squeeze of his girthy, long cock.

"I wanted tonight to be about you," the drop in octave of his voice only adds to the fresh wave of wetness leaking out of your pulsing hole. "Well, I want to feel you inside of me. That makes it still about me, doesn't it?"

You would laugh at the strangled 'fuck' that leaves his lips if you weren't at your wit's end right now. His kiss is much more aggressive this time around. Barely giving you any time or room to breathe or think while his hands fumble with the buttons and zipper of his pants. Tugging them and his boxers off at record speed and tossing them unceremoniously to join the mess on your bedroom floor. His lips remain attached to yours the entire time. Determined to make you think of nothing but, him.

You moan into each other when his bare cock drags along your drenched folds. His hips shallowly thrusting along you until he's slick with your wetness and his pre-cum. Every nudge of his fat head on your hypersensitive clit causes your lashes to flutter and your hips to meet him in his shallow movements.

"Shua, please," you whimper out when he drifts to kiss and lick your throat once again. His hips never ceasing their movements while his hands occupy themselves with your breasts. Tugging on your nipples while he nips into every bit of your skin his teeth can reach.

"You drive me fucking crazy," he groans, pulling away from you. He doesn't go too far. Gripping himself in his large hand and watching the way he runs along your slit. Drinking in the way you mewl and arch into him, chasing him for every bit of sensation he offers. "Your pussy's so pretty, baby. You'll look even better with my cock spliting you open, yeah?" He breathes, blown out pupils watching your face when he teases your fluttering entrance.

"Yes, yes, Joshie please. Please, just fuck me. I need it, I need you."

That prompts an especially harsh thrust against you, but he still doesn't sink into you, and you think you may just burst into tears from frustration. You'd forgotten his fondness for teasing and pushing you as close as possible to insanity.

"You really want me to fuck you that badly, baby?" The smirk on his face is equal parts irritating and attractive, "You'll even let me fuck you without a condom? My poor, desperate baby," he coos. Shifting his attention away from your face momentarily to watch the way his length teases your hole, his head just barely pushing into you.

"Fuck," you whimpers, gripping your poor sheets for dear life, "Yes, Joshie. Yes, I want you to fuck me raw. Please please pleas-" you choke on a moan when he slowly starts to sink into you. Your head kicks back and whimpers flow freely from your lips with every centimetre of himself he pushes into you. You probably should have let him stretch you out on his long, thick fingers because it takes you a great deal of adjusting to grow accustomed to his cock. His hands scorch your hips and shake with restraint. Determined to allow you ample room to get used to the feeling of him before he really starts to move.

It's difficult to know who moans the loudest when he's finally fully sheathed inside of you. The last time the two of you had forgone condoms was when you were still dating so, the feeling him completely bare sends your mind and body into a tailspin. Your fingernails digging into his back harder than you mean to but, it's not like you can help it when you can feel his cock molding you around him and kissing the deepest parts of you and, he hasn't even moved yet. Joshua, for his part, isn't fairing much better than you. Panting into the space between your neck and shoulder as he attempts to gather his bearings while your walls sporadically clench and unclench around him. It's a little embarrassing how close he already feels but, when your warm, wet walls cling to him, he doesn't think he can be faulted too much.

"Joshie, you ca-can move," you manage to utter with everything within you. Reaching for him and cupping his beautiful face in your hands. You don't want to examine the look in his eyes too closely right now. You don't think your heart can take it, and you fear you'll cry for an entire reason entirely if you do.

He nods. His first thrust is barely a movement at all, calling it shallow would be generous. However, after what has felt like a lifetime without any friction, that miniscule movement is still enough to set off sparks in the base of your spine and a gasp to be punched straight from your already struggling lungs. "I missed you," he grunts into your neck, the slight pain from where he runs over the bruises forming there with his mouth only causing you to clamp down even more around his thick cock.

"Missed you so fucking much. Only thought about you the whole time," he pants while he picks up his speed significantly, his hands keeping you in place while he sets the pace. Glancing up at you to watch the way your face twists with every drag of himself along your sinful walls and bite of your sensitive neck. "Did you miss me? Did you think of me? Think of this cock, sweetheart?"

"Yes," you cry out, trying to fill your greedy, burning lungs with any air you can while you lose yourself in pleasure, in him, "I only ever thought of you, Shua. Missed y-you so much," you moan because it's true. It was so hard staying away from him. From not running to your car and knocking on his door at concerning hours of the night. And now, as he fucks you to tears on his cock, you wonder why you even stayed away from him. From the look he gives you now that makes you feel like you're burning and, from the way his large hands that splay across your hips, you don't know why you ever thought of never seeing him again.

Your respective sounds of pleasure coupled with the obscene sounds of him thrusting into you ring out throughout your room. Bleary eyes drinking in the way his biceps flex and the sheen of sweat that's built up on his tan skin. Inky hair sticking to his damp forehead as he watches himself sink into you over and over and over again. Catching your lidded gaze and leaning down to kiss you, one of his hands cupping your jaw. Drifting downwards to ghost along your throat but, not applying pressure. Still, the thought itself is enough for you to keen against him and tightening around his cock.

"I love you."

Now that catches you totally off guard. Your eyes widening and your blood roaring in your ears. You blink up at him, your lips parting as your brain tries to process his words.

"Joshie," you sigh, lacing your fingers behind his neck and kissing the corner of his lips, "I love you too. I'll always love you," you whisper, not wanting to scare him away and feeling far too much far too quickly that you don't think you could speak louder even if you wanted to.

"Fuck," he grits out, pressing your thighs against your chest and tugging you into another searing, messy lip lock. It's more teeth and spit than an actual kiss but, you're not complaining. "You're mine, right? That other guy could never make you feel the way I do, right baby?" He groans against your mouth. You weren't expecting him to bring up Seokmin now of all times, while his cock bullies the sensitive parts of your walls and you're pretty sure another orgasm is building.

"Joshie-"

"I want you to say it," he mutters, his hand slotting itself between your sweaty, scorching bodies until his fingers find your clit. Not allowing you a chance to adjust, rubbing quick circles into while he continues to split you open on his cock, "that you're mine. That he'd never make you feel this way. Feel this good."

"I'm y-yours, Joshie," you whimper, his body keeping you in place so you have no choice but to allow yourself to be fucked dumb by him. That all too familiar knot tightening and tightening with every brush and stroke, "I'm yours. Always yours. Only yours," you cry out when he bites down on your neck.

You feel him cum before the warning tumbles out of his mouth. His cock pushed into you as deeply as it'll go and it throbs. It throbs and keeps throbbing with every rope of his cum that fills your waiting walls. Drawn out moans burned into your skin while his fingers clumsy continue to rub into you. It's no surprise then, with his warm cum already beginning to leak out of you, that your third orgasm hits you. This one isn't as intense as the previous two but, it does still causes you to squirm underneath him. Slick walls spasming around his softening cock while your combined orgasms trickle out of you and onto your poor sheets.

"Shua, my thighs hurt," you wheeze, tapping his arm. He mutters a tired 'sorry' before slowly pulling out of you and getting off of you. He does take a long moment to sear the image of his cum dribbling out of you into his mind. Shaking his head, he lies down beside you and tugs you to his broad chest. Cuddling with Joshua joins the litany of activities and behaviours you're not used to from him. However, he's so warm and you're so, so tired. It's just so easy to allow yourself to be lulled to sleep by his heartbeat and his hand playing with your hair. It doesn't take long for him to join you in the land of slumber after your eyes flutter shut.

Seokmin💛: Hey, just wanted to let you know I got home! I really did have a great time. I hope we can go out on another date soon :)

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#joshua hong smut #hong jisoo smut #joshua seventeen smut #seventeen joshua smut #seventeen smut #joshua hong x reader smut #seventeen x reader smut #joshua smut #joshua x reader smut #hong jisoo x reader smut

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anthurak · 4 months

Text

Continuing on the topic of the possibility of a Charlie/Vaggie/Emily polycule*, I thought I’d discuss a few other thoughts on why these three could totally work together:

Assuming that Vaggie was originally human, and perhaps has even ‘become’ human again in a way with the removal of her wings, then these three together could represent an interesting thematic ‘trinity’ bridging Hell and Heaven: We have a Demon (Charlie), a Human (Vaggie) and an Angel (Emily) all coming together.

Next, and this could have some interesting implications for the next two episodes if we get a B-plot focused on Vaggie, given just how SIMILAR Charlie and Emily are, if Vaggie had to spend any amount of time with Emily, you can’t tell me she wouldn’t start falling for Emily too. Or that Vaggie trying to stay angry/jealous of Emily and failing miserably wouldn’t be completely hilarious.

Additionally, you know how Charlie’s and Vaggie’s character designs are clearly meant to subvert a lot of traditional gender norms? Like how Charlie is has a lot traditionally feminine/‘girly’ personality traits like being super upbeat, cheerful, friendly and kind, yet dresses exclusively in masculine clothes and is taller than her partner, while Vaggie has a lot of traditionally masculine/butch personality traits yet wears much more feminine clothing and is the shorter of the pair? Well imagine if Emily ends up following this trend if/when she joins Charlie and Vaggie in Hell?

Like say, Fallen-Angel!Emily ends up going PURE emo/goth/punk look, while of course remaining exactly the same upbeat, cheerful cinnamon roll just like Charlie that she was before. And maybe cheerfully dropping f-bombs left and right because she can swear now and thinks cussing is really fun!

*Speaking of which, have we settled on a ship name for these three yet? I realize ‘Chaggiem’ works well enough (and sounds amusingly similar to ‘requiem’ of all things) but personally I think ‘Unholy Trinity’ is pretty good. Alternatively, ‘Two and a Half Halos’.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin ramblings #hazbin theory #charlie morningstar #vaggie #hazbin vaggie #hazbin emily #chaggie #chemily #vaggiemily #whatever we're calling charlie x vaggie x emily #chaggiem #unholy trinity #two and a half halos #fallen!emily has black wings #not because 'falling' actually turned them black or anything emily just dyes her wings now because she thinks it looks cool

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copinghardasfvck · 5 months

Text

winter mornings

SEVERUS SNAPE X READER

a/n: i wrote this with myself in mind so there might (???) be implications of a hefty age gap but i think its readable from any background. also this shit was supposed to be quick. lo and behold ive been tippity tappin my little fingers for 2 hrs in my car to produce this tasty little filth for you girlies

summary : no plot just fucking

tags: smut, soft, light degradation, cosy, a moment of teacher roleplay but its up to you to decide if they’re actually teacher/student or just rp, assumed use of contraceptives, dumbification, piv, creampie

The fireplace remained crackling as you turned off the stove. But even with the warmth of the first, your toes wiggled against each other, in an attempt to stay warm.

You wiggled your hips a little, lightly humming Last Christmas — you don't know how anyone could hate muggles so much. They had to admit muggle music had its merits. They do Christmas right. As you danced, you transferred the bacon you had just cooked onto a plate along side the waffles you previously prepared.

You then made your way to the refrigerator to loot Severus's collection of fruit. The thought, I hope he isn't awake yet was rudely interrupted by two strong arms circling around your waist, cinching your — his — white dress shirt around your waist.

"Get back in bed!" you hissed, placing your hands over his, which held you tightly.

A tired hum left him and he kissed your neck... trailing up to your jaw. Smiling, you leaned into it, reveling in your realization that his arms were bare. You turned, eyeing his frame. He was only wearing black pajama pants. Chest bare, probably because you stole his shirt.

He looked at you, pursing his lips as he took in your entire form. You had slipped on panties. But you hadn't bothered in even buttoning up his shirt. You were definitely an indecent sight. But in your defense you hadn't planned to stay out of bed too long. You were hoping to surprise him. He raised his brows at you, though a sort of softness remained in his eyes.

The way he was looking at you... Maybe it was the fact that the love you held for him made you dizzy. Fuzz clouded your head and your lids felt heavy. You felt like you couldn't stop admiring him because even if you got tired of his eyes, you could rave on and on about how adorable his nose is. And if you ever got tired of his nose, you could talk anyones ears off about line that formed between his eyebrows when his face hardened. In short, this feeling was hypnotic.

Maybe its the mere fact that you were hypnotized, dizzy, fuzzy, but you could swear the gaze he trained on you seemed like he could not tear his gaze away from you even if he wanted to. Severus knew you were right. That after he met you, he understood Narcissus better. He felt like he could forget to eat, sleep, forget all the necessities of life just because hes so taken by your beauty staring back at him.

With a case of blueberries in your right hand, you wrapped your arms around his neck, watching his eyebrows jump up amusedly at your affection.

Your pussy always got so wet when he did that. There was something in that — the fact that he always looked so confident, waiting for you to make the next move, letting you surprise him, letting you take control — take initiative. And just letting himself be amused by your forwardness. You smirked at him, first looking up, doe eyed into his eyes, then letting your eyes fall to his lips.

You bit your lip, "Good morning, handsome," Then you looked back up to meet his hooded eyes.

The corners of his lips had turned up by then. "Good morning, love."

There was a churning in your stomach in response. He always got you with the simplest of phrases. "I was making you breakfast but you spoiled the surprise."

"I apologize," he said, hushed. Eyes still so focused and trained on you, like he was melting into your gaze.

"I don't accept your apology."

His brows lifted inquisitively, the corners of his mouth stretching wider into a full smile. Oh if only anyone else were there to witness the rare occurrence of Severus Snape, certified grump, cracking such a wide smile just for his little dearest love. "I am your humble servant, my dear, simply point me in the direction of repentance."

You smirked wider, letting your eyes flicker down and up again, making it clear to him what you wanted, If it wasn't already abundantly clear. "Kiss me, you dolt."

Severus didn't need to be told twice. His lips came down on yours hungrily and you whimpered, immediately parting your lips to accept his tongue. You back arched back and you adjusted your grip on his neck to keep you upright, your right leg coming up against his side. He took your thigh in his hand, keeping his other arm around you for support.

Then he hissed and gently detached from you. You stared up at him, light concern in your eyes, because you hadn't realized yet, but you still had a container of blueberries in your hand, fresh out of the fridge. And as you were snogging your boyfriend, you accidentally placed the very cold container against his unclothed skin.

"Cold," he reached back, taking it from you, and tossed it carelessly on the kitchen counter. Then he wrapped his arms your waist again.

A wide apologetic smile spread across your face and you giggled, "sorry."

He kissed you over and over, "Unacceptable," and hooked an arm under your ass to lift you up. You squealed, giggling the whole way as he walked over to the couch in the living space adjacent to his kitchen and threw you on top of it.

"What in Merlin's name did I do to deserve such a perfect little toy, mm?" he asked, almost as if he were honestly inquiring.

You shrugged and took the opportunity to tease him, "I know right? Yours to fuck any time you want, and I cook you breakfast."

He huffed a little laugh and kissed you again. Your heart soared.

You loved these private moments so much — these moments when it feels as if you are truly the only two people in the world. The tender vulnerability behind your praises and gentle bouncing back and forth of banter... It really made it feel like your two souls — usually dim and passively burning for the mere sake of keeping your mortal bodies going — burned together in a fiery dance. A dance, on a dark, black, and substance-less stage, in nothing but space. A dance that no one could see or feel or experience the way you experienced it.

Nothing even matters. Nothing but him.

Only his lips, his body, his pleasure, him. His mind, his heart. You'd protect and nurture and grow all of it.

Sighing into the kiss, you wrapped your legs around his waist and tightened your legs. He grunted in response, inhaling deeply before parting from your lips. His jaw was clenched, eyes hooded and dark, as he stared down at your smiling face.

"You think you're so cute?"

You nodded, lightly rolling your hips in a circle, your pussy feeling so hot. And there was just a flimsy little string blocking your vulva from the fabric of his pants.

"… Rubbing on me like a little bitch in heat."

Despite the harshness of his words, your eyes widened and you bit your lip, a small whine escaping because if you thought your stomach was twisting and churning before, you were positively ill with desire now.

He sighed, pressing his forehead against yours, hair draping over your face. You dug your heel into his backside, trying to press him closer. His dick rubbing against your pussy was so fucking delicious. his labored breaths were hot against your skin, nose pressed to the side of yours. If you didn't know him any better, you'd think he was about to cum in his pants like a schoolboy. But you knew him better.

"Cute little whore..." he muttered, twisting his face over to give you a few small pecks, all as he loosened his pants and shimmied them down his hips.

Something feral left your throat when his cock was pressed against your cunt. "Feels so hot, Sev," you were absolutely breathless.

And god you couldn't stop looking up at him with those pouty eyes. Every time you looked up at him through your pretty little eyelashes a flash of desire shot through him — the desire to see that face he loved. The face you made when you were so consumed by pleasure, so cock drunk, that your eyes screwed shut and tears pricked at your eyes.

The angry red head of his cock was leaking a little so you pushed your panties to the side and rolled your hips so that his juices collected on your pussy lips. Not that you needed extra lubrication that badly. Your cunt was already leaking into your other puckered hole and it was soon to be on the couch if he didn't hurry up and fuck you. But he loved to watch you tease yourself.

"Do you want me to fuck you, my sweet little whore?"

"Duh," You furrowed your brows, the bit of sass slipping out because you were at a point of arousal where tiny hot spikes of frustration were starting to poke and prod at your brain. You want him so bad. You need him.

"Beg me, then. Out loud like a good girl," he smirked at you this time and you whined, rolling your eyes.

You're rubbing your naked pussy on his bare cock and he still needs you to tell him how badly you want him to fuck you into next week. How you want him to fuck you so hard you wake up in summer.

"Out loud."

Bastard.

A small chuckle left him and he adjusted so that his shaft, now covered in your juices, wasn't that part that was rubbing against your cunt. No, the bastard started rubbing his tip along your hole, dipping in a little just to tease.

You whined again, "Please please fuck my wet little cunt, sir. I need you. I-I need your cock it'd feel so perfect," you mumbled softly, back arching off the soft couch. Your lips brushed his with every word, eyes flutter close from the frustrating desire coursing through you. Your heart... You wonder if he could feel your heart. If he did, you wonder if he was worried about how fast it was going.

“Such a lovely thing,” He muttered, “Good little witch, begging for my cock so prettily,” And he finally sunk his dick into you, slowly.

You moaned at the stretch, tossing your head to the side, eyes shut tight, lips parted, brows furrowed together.

Severus was quick to take your chin and twist your face back into view. Through a deep groan, he commanded “Open. Your. Eyes.”

You obeyed, breath hitching at the intensity of his stare. His eyelids dropped a little as he sighed, pressing his forehead against yours again. Then he began a slow pace of thrusting in and out of you.

Your parted lips continued to brush against his due to your proximity and you obediently kept your heavy eyes trained on his no matter how badly they wanted to flutter shut and enjoy the intimacy of his touch and his warmth surrounding you. You forced them open because he ordered it.

“Outstanding,” He smirked, teasing, “Always, this cunt is always deserving of the highest marks.”

“Thank you Professor, I’m happy my tight little pussy pleases you so much,” You mewled, a string of barely coherent words, highpitched, due to the pleasure you were feeling. You saw as his eyebrows knitted together. Merlin he was beautiful. “‘wanna make you cum. fuck me harder? Please?”

“Dirty little…” He chuckled, “Want me to use you like a little whore to empty my cock into? Is that it?”

“m’yeah want you to use me, Severus please be rough,”officially overwhelmed by the pleasure and the further arousal, you wrapped your legs back around him, using your heel to coax his hip movement how you liked.

“Since you begged so sweetly,” He gave you a little peck before pulling back. and you whined at the distance. That whine quickly caught in the back of your throat though because Severus gripped your hips with his big hands, hard. And he began fucking down into you with increased fervor.

You called out, eyes screwing shut once more, legs tightening against his body. “Ahhh, oh S-sev!! Please,” You didn’t know what you were begging for.

But Merlin, it was all so much. His praises echoed in your head alongside the dirty, condescending words that accompanied them. All the while the sound of your impossibly wet cunt squishing with every re-entry into your eager hole, the sound of Severus Snape’s balls slapping against the moist patch that formed along your taint and asshole, the perfect way he fit inside you… It was enough to make a girl go absolutely insane.

“Your cunt sucks me back in when even I pull out. Do you feel that, lovely girl? How badly it needs me.”

“Y-yes!!” You said, struggling to form any coherent thoughts. Oh Merlin… you love getting to this point. “Need…. Mmm need it!”

“So beautiful when you’re drunk on cock, when you get so stupid,” Severus rambled, one hand making its way to your hair to pull on it, “Perfect little pussy.”

You yelped, screaming more yes’s as he fucked you harder, hurdling toward an intense orgasm.

He fucked you like that, pulling on your hair, hips snapping back and forth. The head of his cock rammed into your most sensitive spot inside you over and over.

“I’m s-so… Please, Sev please,”

“Use your words, dear, be polite,” He spoke through shaking moans. He was getting close too.

“C-cum,” You tried, legs shaking, “‘m gonna cum sir”

“Go on then, darling milk me dry. Cum for me.”

Once you heard the deep baritone command, you allowed yourself to release. He leaned down, captured your lips in his and pumped you a little faster and sloppier to reach his orgasm. You leaned back and watched his face contort as he pumped his cock a few more pronounce times to ensure he spilled all his seed inside.

You kissed his jaw as he recovered, licking and nipping his neck along your way down, your little hand cupping his other cheek. You loved kissing every part of him. You loved how warm he was, how his hair smelled, everything. He’s so lovely.

Breakfast is cold now.

#severus snape x reader

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angelkhi · 2 years

Text

keep driving - j.m

pairing: dbf!joel miller x reader

summary: you need some extra driving lessons and your dads best friend offers himself up for the job.

warnings: SMUT 18+ (Minors DNI), car sex, oral (m), mutual (?) praise, unprotected sex (please wrap your disco stick❤️‍🔥), fingering, language, age gap, panic attack, mentions of a heart attack (in passing), mentions of a near car accident, slightly awkward in parts sorry, driving (it's horrible and needs a warning?!), very little plot but also a lot going on.

word count: 2.8k

a little note: some of you are american and call it “driving stick” but for me (a british person) ya girl is just driving okay???? be gentle with me i’m rusty x (btw wrote this instead of an assignment that’s many hundreds of words less than this you’re welcome)

The quiet evening was coming to a close when your dad had bought up how close he came to a heart attack every time you got behind the wheel. A couple of glasses of rosé had already warmed your cheeks, but as your father listed all the ways he didn't trust you on the roads to Joel, you quickly became embarrassed.

Joel ever the hero interjected a couple of times assuring you that he wasn't great at the start and he's sure you're much better than you're given credit for, but that didn't stop your dad from going on and on to the point where Joel offered to take over. At first you had been grateful when Joel offered up some of his time to help you gain confidence behind the wheel. That's how you'd been raised after all, grateful and polite, some may say to a fault.

Even a few evenings later when the lesson finally arrives, you choose to be grateful that Joel Miller is taking the time to teach you how to drive in between lessons, rather than focusing on the implications of being alone with him in such a small space. You push whatever ridiculous and overly horny thoughts floating about your head to the back of your mind or you're sure you'll crash the car before it even turns on.

Now parked on a small street, he runs over the basics you thankfully already know because there's no way your brain is registering anything he says when he's sat so close to you, taking up so much space so gracefully. He talks with his hands, pointing at various buttons and gesturing about the vehicle, and you can only hope that he'll stop doing so before he makes focusing on the road an extremely hard task. He finally gestures for you to start the car, which you do, placing it in gear and doing your final checks. He's saying something, talking you through it but you're already familiar with everything he's telling you to do.

"Okay so clutch up slowly- oh okay never mind we're driving already." Joel can't hide the surprise in his voice at your obvious competence behind the wheel. The way your dad had talked about teaching you to drive, he'd made it sound like you couldn't tell your left from your right (which lets be honest you can't) but Joel was expecting to be grabbing the wheel every 5 seconds.

Still, nearly 20 minutes into the destination-less drive, and you're yet to make a detrimental mistake. He tries to make small talk with you, asking about your uni degree, his focus split between your driving and your words. Though every now and then your responses are cut off by some bright and colourful curse, telling a slow driver 'fucking suck a dick' or grumbling at the gears to "fuck off" if they didn't transition smoothly. Joel didn't anticipate the absolute filth coming out of your mouth. Each time it caught him off guard in the worst of ways. He hoped you wouldn't notice the way he'd began shifting in his seat when you called a red light a "fuckin cocksucker", but he got ahold of himself and whatever bizarre thoughts your potty mouth had bestowed upon him.

The drive was smooth apart from a couple issues following directions and a near miss whilst parallel parking. Every now and then he'd mumble some form of 'good' or 'well done' or 'that was perfect' or your personal favourite, a low whistle when you execute something particularly smoothly. He was fucking with your brain constantly and you were worried that you were growing close to swerving into a bush.

The drive continues smoothly for another 10 minutes until you turn onto a main road, a large truck parked on the opposite side of the street. You consider slowing down worrying about cars coming around it, but maintain your speed hoping that the oncoming drivers will be just as considerate.

You watch as a car approaches behind the van, slowing down a little preparing to stop, until car suddenly decides to swerve into the middle of the road, cutting you off completely and dangerously. You turn the wheel and break sharply, narrowly avoiding a head on collision with the absolute idiot who just continues driving like they'd done nothing wrong. The car is silent apart from the low hum of the radio and yours and Joel's heaving breaths.

"Woah. Okay let's pull over here." Joel points to a small side street a few paces ahead and it's then you realise you've frozen, on a main road. You take a moment to move and Joel asks if you'd like to switch over but you shake your head and get the car moving again. You pull into the overgrown industrial estate quietly and shut off the engine, still not quite processing what just happened.

"You did real good out there." Joel's hand rests on your thigh and you're trying real hard to not let his words affect you. "Dunno what your pops is talking about, you're a pro."

The warmth from his rough palm is intoxicating and you let yourself slip and just wonder for a moment, what would happen if his hand were to slide further across up leg. But then you scold yourself for even entertaining the idea after what just happened.

"I think i need some air." Just like that you're out of the car, stones crunching beneath your feet, the only light from the beaming headlights as you drink in the night air. You had almost died. Joel had almost died.

"That wasn't your fault. Just some dickhead driver who shouldn't be on the road." Joel is in front of you, all warm and brooding and he's hugging you, so tight that you almost let yourself cry.

"Hey hey look at me." His hands cup your face, so large and warm against your quickly chilling skin. "Breathe. That's it, good girl"

You look up at him, studying the soft wrinkles on his forehead, the small bags under his eyes, the firm frown on his face. The pair of you stay like that until your breaths even out a little and your hands stop trembling. He looks like he wants to say something more, but then he drops his hands and opens the passenger door for you.

"Cmon it's getting chilly." You nod, sliding into the seat wordlessly, watching as he walks round to the drivers side. Joel cranks up the heater and focuses on you once more.

"You okay?" He asks, his voice rough. His hand comes to rest on your thigh again and all of a sudden you're both fine and ten times worse than before.

"Yeah. Think so." You pause, "uh, thanks for tonight. It was really helpful."

"You're welcome sweet pea." fucking hell.

"Also sorry about the bit where we almost died." You add quietly.

"You handled it like a pro, just a shame there's some 'fuckin cocksuckers' out on the roads." You laugh when he quotes your earlier cursing and his own dry chuckle accompanies your own. His hand is still on your thigh, and maybe its the adrenaline from the past few moments, but you place your hand on top of his.

A silence stretches between the two of you and you're scared to look up at him. You're scared that he'll see sense. That he'll remember to him you're just a kid. You move his hand half an inch closer to where you desperately need him but he squeezes your thigh tighter, halting the movement.

“Hey,” his thumb taps your chin, forcing you to look up at him, “what’re you doing sweet pea?”

You don’t reply, not trusting your own voice. Instead you move his hand once more, slow waiting to see what he does. At first he just watches you, intrigued by the boldness of your actions, waiting to see how far you’ll take it. Why you finally drop his hand, he waits for a moment, watching you all doe eyed and desperate to be touched.

This time, when his hand moves it’s of his own volition, sliding between your thighs, cupping your clothed cunt, watching in awe as you automatically begin grinding on his hand.

“Tell me what you need, darlin.” His hand slides under your shirt to the waistband of your leggings, thumb stroking at the skin just above the elastic.

“Joel…” You’re already so desperate, so needy for him to give you what you want.

“You want me to touch you?” His fingers push into your leggings and your breath hitches as he stops at the hem of your panties. “Gonna need an answer, darlin.”

“Yes. Please Joel.”

“Where?” You watch as he smirks, waiting for your answer. “Where do you want me to touch you?”

“Want your fingers in my pussy.” He looks stunned for a moment, before finally pushes your panties to the side, rubbing his fingers over your wet cunt.

“You’ve got a dirty fuckin mouth.” He rubs at your clit, “And a messy cunt.”

“Who’s got a dirty mouth now?” You gasp as he slips a finger into you, the low hum of the radio not enough to drown out the wet sounds of him fucking you with his fingers. “More.”

“Greedy little thing.” He whispers, stretching you out with a second finger, his cock growing hard, straining against his jeans. You grind yourself against his hand, clit bumping against his palm, chasing the orgasm he’s so close to giving you. You grip his arm for support, his rough skin perfect against your sensitive clit. Joel curls his fingers ever so slightly, catching just the right spot and you’re done for. You grind against his hand until your too sensitive to move anymore, cheeks warm and breaths shallow.

He pulls his hand from your panties and brings his fingers to your lips, licking them clean, tasting you on his tongue and he has to stop himself from bending you over the and tasting your cunt until you’re a crying mess.

“Get in the back.” He says gruffly, popping his door not waiting for a response. You climb between the two seats, watching Joel as he slides in beside you. You don’t waste time, reaching for his belt, and he lifts his hips helping you pull down his jeans and briefs.

You waste no time wrapping a hand around him in all of his thick and weeping glory, pumping his cock a few times before lapping at the precum leaking from the tip. You take your time swallowing him down, using your hands where your mouth couldn’t reach.

“Fuckin hell girl.” His hand finds its way into your hair, gripping at the roots, tensing when you take him further into your mouth. Joel’s hips buck lightly, his tip sliding further into your throat, the unexpected intrusion making you gag a little.

“Shit sorry, sorry.” He’s apology falls on death ears and you move your tongue in the same way hoping he’d do it again. “You’re unbelievable.”

You gag on him once more, hands working at his base gripping him tightly, relishing in his tight grip on your hair. When he pulls you up off of him you’re confused, worried that you’ve done something wrong, but then he kisses you pulling you into him.

“You did so good for me, so good. But if you keep going I ain’t gonna last.” You nod, slip out of your trousers and move to straddle him, enjoying the way he responds so easily to you, his grip on your waist sure to leave a mark when you drag his tip between your wet folds.

His hands slide to your hips, guiding you as you slide down onto him, slow and cautious at first. Joel curses under his breath and sends out a quick prayer that he’ll last longer than a singular thrust. He’s never felt a cunt so wet and warm and perfect for him in his entire life. The way you squeeze him when you lift your hips, the way you rock forward against him when you swallow him in all over again. He’s not sure if once will be enough, if he can live without you wrapped around him 24 hours a day.

“Take what you need, you’re doing so well for me.” You’re more sure in your movements now, your hips moving quicker, with more fluidity and you never want to remember where you end and Joel begins.

Joel let’s his head drop into the crux of your neck, his teeth nipping at your most sensitive spots, his warm breath soothing your marked skin. He can already feel the tightening in his stomach, his cock growing more and more sensitive but he’ll be damned if he comes before you do.

You’re whimpering against him, enjoying the way his hips meet your thrusts. You forget how to breathe when he slides his hand into the small gap between your bodies, rolling his thumb against your clit, slow and soft, increasing the pressure by a fraction when he feels your pussy grip him a little tighter.

“Joel, you feel so fucking good. Gonna cum.” He groans deeply and you consider for a moment that Joel enjoys you praising him. But then he thrusts up, hitting just the right spot and any thoughts are clean out of your mind.

“That’s it sweet girl, give it to me.”

His arm is secure around your waist, holding you against him as he drives his hips up into you, fucking you through your orgasm. Your cunt clamps down on him like a vice, his fingers not letting up on your clit and you’re pretty sure you may pass out if he keeps touching you so perfectly.

“Fucking hell.” You whimper when he finally lets up, your breath shallow in your lungs. Joel’s face is flushed, his eyes alive with need as he peers up at you, watching you come down from your orgasm. He’s devastatingly handsome and you’ve never seen him look so needy.

“Joel, cum inside me please want it so bad. I need it Joel.” You thread your hands through his short hair, pressing long kisses against his jaw and lips, swallowing his throaty groans.

“You’re so good to me, fuck. You gonna let me send you home to your pops full of me, huh?” He speaks against your lips, but you’re too far gone to even pay attention to his words anymore.

You’re surrounded by Joel, his scent, his skin, you’re lost in him. Your teeth sink into his bottom lip, just past the point of pleasure, before you pull him into a soothing kiss. His hips stutter, and he grips your waist so tight, as though he’s scared your going to disappear, pulling you flush against him whilst he releases thick ropes of cum into your pussy.

His groan is deep and guttural and completely Joel. The kiss is slow this time, slow and sweet and a little bit filthy, his hips grinding into you once more, eliciting more needy whimpers from you.

“Fuck.” He presses his soft lips against yours. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you.” You reply, scratching lightly at his nape, enjoying the way he shivers against you.

“What’re you thinking?” He asks. You run your hands through his salt and pepper locks once more, just taking him in.

“You’re really pretty.” Your pride swells when his cheeks flush even further. “And… i’m so glad we didn’t take my dads car.”

He chuckles, throwing his head back, enjoying the sound of your laugh. You shift above him slightly and he winces, stilling your hips.

“C’mon let’s get you dressed. I’m pretty sure I made a promise, something along the lines of sending you home full of my cum?”

“You’ve got a filthy mouth on you, Mr Miller.” You speak against his lips as he slips out of you, and reaches for your underwear. He watches as you awkwardly manoeuvre pulling your clothes back on and climb into the passenger seat.

“I learned from the best.”

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader smut #the last of us #the last of us part 2 #the last of us hbo #the last of us smut #dbf!joel miller #smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal joel miller #pedro pascal smut

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coriphallus · 3 months

Text

A little rant on patch 6 and the implications for bg3's future

Okay, bear with me for a sec its gonna go somewhere eventually. My first bg3 run (thats spammed here on this blog) i played ascended astarion/dark urge romance where i picked the reject bhaal and become the absolute ending.

as it was my first playthrough on release i was vibrating off mt seat and i didnt really have elaborate HCs or anything, i was just doing a quick evil run until the bugs get sorted out. i didn't think much beyond "yes this dude would want the shiny stones for himself"

first time i saw astarion enthralled, i was confused. he asked me to do it, he was quite insistent on it since the beginning of the game. i was confused for a couple of hours, digesting the entire game i just played. Then it hit me; the game was calling me out. it was telling me ive been stupid for not having seen this coming and at that point i felt awe.

it was right, everything pointed to this, it was right in front of my eyes all i needed was to connect the dots that the game laid out quite visibly and i was just too caught up to see.

'well my durge would never do that' didnt matter because thats exactly what the companions thought. Gale thought the powers of an insatiable weave wouldnt corrupt him, that he'd stay true to himself, shadowheart thought shar had blessed and her she'd guide her, that she could be her true self under her influence, astarion thought he'd be free, that he'd cherish the bond he'd made with the player but at the end of the day power reveals; and when that power is acquired through the corpses of thousands its quite evident that Absolute power corrupts absolutely. IT WAS IN THE FKIN NAME.

it was a shining bait i was so focused on getting my hands on that i didn't look back to see the mountain of corpses i had to step on to get there. the game was telling me 'HEY LOOK AT EVERYTHING YOU'VE DONE TO GET HERE, LOOK AT WHAT HAPPENED TO ALL THE OTHERS WHO THOUGHT THEY COULD ACHIEVE THIS, DO YOU THINK YOU'D HOLD HANDS AND SING KUMBAYA WITH YOUR FRIENDS AFTER ALL THIS?'

just as there was never an option where frodo could stab saurons flaming eyeball and sit on his throne with the ring on his finger and sam at his side, there was never an ending i could get my 'happy ending' the way id like it to. i wanted frodo to remain in middle earth and have some peace in the end, i didnt understand how he was 'too changed' to remain and sam wasnt when i first read the books. i was angry even, that i didnt get what i wanted. it wasnt like tolkien haphazardly put together an ending out of his ass bcs he didnt know what to do with the characters, its not that he didn't think while writing that the fans would hate it, he wrote a story that achieved its catharsis by reaching its narrative conclusion. it couldnt have done that any other way. it was deliberate. i may not have understood or agreed at the time but it was the story he wanted to tell, and it wouldnt be one of the greatest stories ever told if the writer wanted to please a 10 y/o like myself.

it was never out of character for my durge at all, i was just blissfully avoiding the NARRATIVE.

months later we get this absolute narrative abomination:

and all i can say is im worried.

im worried bcs this is a clear disrespect to the story they've written, im worried bcs if they can do off with huge plot elements and beats such as this just like that it shows a lack of commitment to their own plot and if a huge Point of the game can be treated like a minor mistake than what else can? was is just a lack of oversight that laezel gets killed under vlaakith? can it be waved off if enough vlaakith loving gith players come together and shout loud enough that they want to ride alongside their queen with their gith gf?

what part of the game is tangible to hold on to, and after two years worth of patches that are made to appease the fans at the expense of the story, will it still be the game i fell in love with?

i dont blame the fans for wanting, i blame the devs for delivering. that they could sacrifice the integrity of a pretty straightforward story bodes ill tidings for the future of this game.

yes i wanted this feature, but i was glad i wasn't given it. i may have been confused and slightly miffed that i didn't get to reign supreme with my evil bf, but i immensely respected the game that could call me out on it. i wish they could show the same respect to their own writing.

#bg3 #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 #patch 6

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tired-hellowl · 3 months

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here' a comprehensive list as to every problem I have with the current *unecessary characters known as 'Glitz and Glam'

Do they expand the story/worldbuilding in any meaningful way? Do they explore a new hidden dynamic/past conjunction with a differing character and is that explored meaningfully? What was the point of having them animated when Mammon can portray the same level of humiliation/degrading/on stage lack of positive reinforcements. 😐

I'm so sorry but I view these characters as necessary garbage that caused some animators arthritis via too many patterns, not enough screen time to have meat and potatoes worth of dialogue, or really any pretense within the story whatsoever and yes this extends towards every female character on screen but let's not worry about that !!! Even if they are IMPLIED to be from the ring of envy-a color or ring we haven't seen nor meaningfully conveyed to the audience that it even is possible to go in/exists- it isn't conveyed to the audience well enough besides the visual implication of colors???? Instead of having shitty b-plots that go nowhere via Stolas and Blitz goofing off in seeing stars, Moxxie and Millie getting C-plots for no reason, or loona getting a rabies shot- all of that time could have been exploring hell, going to different rings, focusing on other characters besides the main 5, literally I would prefer a quiet episode like BoJack Horsemans 'Fish out of Water'where we can actually see the personalities of the main characters be appreciated and shown to us but that's never gonna happen :/

What I've been worried about is not even the on screen racism/out of touch 'rap/hip-hop parody' leaves a terrible taste in my mouth, if that isn't enough then the sexualization/implication of an incest type dynamic and nothing else besides fetish bait with these characters constantly grabbing one another and not really acting like siblings moreso someone who has never had siblings attempting to write sibling banter and failing terribly :/

Why do you have a problem with 'Klown Bitch' it's so catchy! Uhm, no??? I feel bad for anyone who attempts to defend helluva/hazbin as good modern musicals let me grit my teeth in silence as to the glorification over white people dominating black culture

HERES A HISTORY OF FEMALE HIPHOP ARTISTS: X

Pictured above is very old concept art about twin characters and its the same hairshape viv kept to transfer over to glitz/glam- despite clearly being over designed and way too much going on Alá vivzie style. It just goes to show she recycles even from herself and not every design is always new hot and fresh :/ AND SPEAKING OF CONCEPT ART-

Also also don't forget salems' concept designs thst got passed even though they loon toony, loony, clown enough, and definitely majorly way easier to have animated besides the mess that is the current design meta ???

Love how you can clearly see the silhouettes being so easily identifiable comparably towards the actual amalgamated mess that is their current limbs attempting to hold onto their toothpick body for their head.

All this screams to me is viv using the artists thst try to come onto helluva and they try their best with what their given, viv only picks the best bits SHE thinks is worth her time rather then thinking about the audience or animating anything else besides overglorified white people rap 🤔

Also the episode literally presents its full internalized misogyny/racism within this episode because vivzie herself literally admitted to typing into script with a full chest that

'Women just ain't funny'

. . .

why present misogyny within the series if you as a creator aren't willing to tackle the subject matter? Why write about it or present it as if you're smart over including the joke in your script when it isn't even funny because it just further pushes women out of the entertainment/comedy business which mind you IS ALREADY VERY WELL MALE DOMINATED SO PUTTING OTHER WOMEN DOWN TO PUT YOURSELF UP ISNT HELPING YOUR CASE VIV???

So then what was the point of adding female clowns if all you were going to do with them was make fun of them out of their expense and then profit off of the fact that they are incest coded????????????

?????????Are we watching the same fucking series????????

#vivziepop critical #i'll add more later #helluva critique #helluva critical #helluva boss criticism #helluva boss is homophobic #helluva boss critical #i hate it here #anti hazbin hotel #anti spindlehorse #anti helluva boss #anti vivziepop #cw inc*st #I hate glitz and glam so much

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wardenparker · 4 months

Text

Summer Rose

Professor!Santiago Garcia x female OC Co-written with @julesonrecord

Rating: E for Explicit 18+ Word Count: 6k Warnings: OC is named (Daphne Antonelli) but has minimal physical description. Age gap 10+ years. Both parties are consenting adults. Alcohol consumption, mutual pining, professor/student, oral sex (f and m receiving), 69, sexy mythology references, vaginal sex, protected sex, fingernails/scratching, a bit of biting. Summary: Daphne is having an absolutely terrible day and has missed office hours to turn in her final paper to Professor Garcia. When she turns up on his doorstep to turn in her assignment, the professor she's been crushing on for ages offers her a supportive ear -- and help relaxing. Notes: A little collaboration between myself and my beloved Jules featuring a character we've working on (Daphne) and today's wet daydream of college professor!Santiago. Honestly this is just a bit of porn with the barest thread of a plot, and we're not sorry. Also, just a disclaimer that I have no clue how one finishes a masters degree, but it doesn't matter. We're here for the porn, not the threadbare plot.

Twilight is beautiful on campus. Santiago has always thought so, even before he had the letters after his last name that demarcate him as faculty. He enjoys the blush of the sun fading, the purple of the dusky sky fading to blue-black, indigo, then glitter with starlight.

He likes walking home after class this way; a quiet moment to ease his mind after lectures and before grading. This late in the semester, it will be one of the last walks before the summer term. As he passes through the quiet neighborhood and climbs his front doors, he glances up, spies Orion's Belt in the heavens. He thinks about introducing the story next time he holds his Mythology and Myth-Making class. Did he include it this year? He can't remember. He'd been... distracted.

His phone pings with a text as he sets his messenger bag on the dining room table and undoes his cuff buttons, rolling them up. Too damn hot for this, damn dress code rules... He peers down at the message, and notes it's from an unknown number. His students know to text him if they have an emergency, so he opens it straight away.

Hi, Professor Garcia. I know that it's after office hours, but the fact is...I missed office hours altogether. Would it be an inconvenience to call you and explain? Otherwise I'm not sure how to get my final paper to you. Thanks, Daphne Antonelli (Mythology and Myth-Making)

Santiago lifts an eyebrow. He recognizes the name. Oh yes, he recognizes it. In fact, he's called it to mind more often than is probably appropriate, along with the image of a very beautiful graduate student with a focused stare and drop-dead gorgeous eyes. She was an attentive student, responsive, ready to answer questions but never one to hog the spotlight, making insightful, empathetic, and razor-sharp questions. It was unlike her to miss anything, never mind not visit office hours. They'd spent many such visits over the semester. Short. Professional. Of course.

So why does his heart rate increase, his teeth sink into his bottom lip as he thoughtfully taps the phone screen, spelling out a careful, professional text?

Hi Daphne. As this is your final paper, I would really like to have it ASAP as I am required to submit grades on Monday. Why don't you swing by my home to drop it off?

Feel free to call, he types, then deletes before sending. He wanted to hear her voice. He did need that paper. No reason why he couldn't do both in person. No reason at all.

He had had his graduate students over for a spring dinner after midterms so they know how and where to find him. The bonfire that night had lasted for ages, as tipsy grad students who were feeling feisty with a full meal in their bellies debated the cultural implications of different myth origins and the similarities of some creation myths that they had just been discussing in class. Daphne had been amongst the students that night, animatedly defending her points with unmatched ferocity that was impossible to ignore.

The text that comes through a few moments later takes a while for her to decide on, judging from the continuously undulating bubbles indicating how long she was typing compared to the brevity of the eventual message.

Thank you for understanding. I'll be over shortly so the rest of your night isn't interrupted.

Satisfaction. He tosses the phone down and leans over the table with a slow sigh, taking a look around the room. The same old familiar wall-to-wall bookshelves line the tidy bungalow. The same pendant lamps up, tacky, that he'd meant to change when he bought this place... four years ago. His degrees might be hung in his office upstairs, his clothes are here, he shaves here, but who does he have here, really? Nobody. Warm sheets for a night and then no one. Nothing. There was no reason to bother, really—

And then Daphne. Daphne with her slowly blossoming smile that melted from shy to beaming when he said hello to her on campus. Daphne with her neat notes in the margins, Daphne with the legs that had so often been tucked primly next to his as they leaned over a book or paper together, never touching but so close, close enough so that he could smell her perfume: cinnamon, orchid, incense.

"Fuck," he mutters to the table. There's no way of hiding from himself, not really. He pushes off the wood and stalks to the kitchen for a beer. He cracks it open efficiently and takes a long swallow, Adam's apple bobbing. He wants her. That much is clear. How could he not? She was intelligent, fierce, gorgeous. He could fool himself all he wanted, her coming here was a bad idea. It's been a long semester, keeping her close but not too close.

But, he realizes with a jolt, she's about to graduate. This is her final, his course is over. He is... well, technically by Monday, no longer her professor.

"Fuck," he mutters again, this time to a magnet of a catfish, his only catch from a weekend out fishing with the guys.

It's twenty minutes later precisely when his doorbell rings. There was no sound of a car outside on the street or dramatic slam of a door, but when he opens the door there is a bicycle leaning against his front gate and a frazzled looking student on his front step.

"Hi, Professor." Daphne stands on his step with a mix of anxiety and embarrassment on her face and she digs into her bag right away to pull out a manila folder with his class name and number written on it alongside her name. "I'm so sorry about this. I know it's technically late and that you'll have to dock points for that. It's completely my fault."

"Hey, hey, easy." He lifts a palm and lowers it soothingly, taking the manila folder gently. "There's no need to be sorry, accidents happen." Then, as he knew he would, he asked, "Would you like to come in? It's the end of semester, though. Maybe you have a party you'd rather get to?" He smiles fondly, bumping his shoulder against the doorframe and folding his arms to show off his tanned forearms, shirt sleeves straining slightly.

Yeah, he's still got moves. And he wants to show them off. To Daphne. Who is no longer his student. Who's staring up at him with the anguish slowly sliding from her face. He wants to remove it, stroke her stress away with his thumb, ease it out of her slowly—

Fuck, he's screwed.

"I'm not really – I mean, I haven't –" She doesn't get invited to parties, is what she's trying to say. Not that she doesn't enjoy parties, because she does. She absolutely does. The night they spent here at his house just sitting around the fire talking and sharing a meal was one of her favorite graduate school memories. But she isn't great at socializing with the other students in her program, she's found. There is something a little odd about Daphne, and it has reverberated through her life to keep her just a little on the outside of normal.

Maybe that's why she nods, accepting the invitation with swallowed thanks, and steps inside her professor's house. Her professor who has more than a decade on her in terms of age but has never held his years of experience or knowledge over her head. If they were colleagues, she might have even considered him a friend. As it is, being his student, she's stuck in a sort of limbo with a useless crush and fond memories. "I've had kind of a crazy day," she admits sheepishly. "Even if I had been invited to any of the parties on campus, I don't think I would be going."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, Daph," he says, with real sympathy. "Is everything all right? I just opened a beer, would you like anything?"

"A pipe burst at my place and my landlord is claiming I'm liable, then my computer crashed in the middle of doing one last edit on your term paper and the tech office gave me grief, it's just...it's been a long day." She barely even nodded in agreement that a drink would be a huge relief, but he is immediately retreating to his refrigerator to grab her a beer. "Oh, and my summer plans fell through today." Her shoulders sag, the stress of the day dragging her down and determined to keep her there. "I'm just lucky I got up to take a shower first thing this morning or else the day would've been even worse."

"Oh, Daph, that's a rotten one," he says, placing the opened beer on the coffee table and settling his hands on her shoulders. "What happened to your summer? Surely you're going off to some incredible internship, you're more than qualified." And she is. He'd have recommended her to any program she wanted, and had, in fact, written her a letter of recommendation earlier in the year. "You know I'm not going to dock points, right?" he asks more quietly. "None of today was your fault, sweetheart."

Sweetheart. That shouldn't burrow into her chest and bloom into warmth like it does, and Daphne's eyes drop to the floor immediately to carefully focus on the toes of her boots instead of looking him in the face. That's your professor. Don't be creepy. "I had that internship lined up in London with the publishing company but they pulled the rug out from under me." She shrugs, feeling more vulnerable in the moment than she wants to admit. "Apparently the CFO's kid decided all of a sudden that he wants to be an author, so they rescinded my offer. He's going to get it instead."

His chest pangs. He hates that there is nothing he can do to fix this for her -- because she's right. That's the cherry on top of an extremely long day, and all he can do then is what feels most natural, which is to lift her chin up with the crook of his finger, his voice soft, gentle. "Hey."

When she meets his gaze, he watches them flicker slightly, scanning his face as he drinks in hers. Her eyes are so pretty. Like fresh honey dripped from a spoon.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he says again, and means it. "You deserve that spot, but you'll find something better, okay? Hey, look at me." She had turned away slightly, embarrassed or perhaps made shy by his praise, but her eyes fix on him again, golden and fringed with thick lashes. "I promise, you will. There's lots of ways into this world, and you're too talented not to break in. Okay? You want to sit down, tell me about it?" His fingers clasp around her delicate elbow, ready to guide her to the couch.

"There's not a lot more to tell, to be honest." Two people with two beers steer almost mechanically toward the couch, and Daphne finds herself being seated on his plush leather sectional just before he sits down beside her. This spring has been chilly and he still has a throw blanket out, which he pulls close to them as if to have it at the ready. "No summer in London means I'm going to have to either go back home and figure out my next step there, or find a new place here and do the same. Because I'm sure as hell not staying in the place I'm in now. As if the landlord weren't bad enough, now the plumbing is going."

"Huh." He trails his arm over the back of the sofa, sipping his beer thoughtfully. "What kinda guy is this-" Asshole, he wants to say, but quells it, "Fellow? Any chance he'll back off? Perhaps once he... calms down, he can be reasoned with." He's approaching the boundary of reason himself. He can see it, taste it, the drip of something sweet down his throat. "Beautiful woman like you? You could convince a man of anything."

The pffft sound that comes out of her mouth goes with a wave of her hand, but she does accept a sip of the beer that he's brought her with a grateful sigh. "The apartment is a piece of shit anyway, if I'm honest. I hate it there. It's just that it's affordable." There's a moment's pause where Daphne's eyes widen in panic and she deflates again with a groan. "I already put in my notice at my job, oh my god."

"Hey, hey, Daphne." He puts his beer down and reaches for her, wrapping one arm around her waist, cupping her flushed cheek with the other hand. "C'mon, it's going to be okay, I promise, but for right now, I need you to relax, okay? Can you do that for me, bebita?" They're so close now, almost nose to nose. He's lost in her eyes again, but he can feel the burning heat of her little cheek in his palm.

She had been so sure she was going to start crying instantly with that realization, but two searing hot hands on her skin steady her. His touch is grounding, pulling her away from the edge of panic and drawing her into his aura so effortlessly that she didn't even realize how close he was until she felt his breath on her skin. "O—okay—" He can't know that the thing keeping her from having a complete panic attack on his couch right now is the fact that all the blood in her body has rushed to her aching clit, but damned if it isn't working. Daphne nods vaguely, trying to keep her head from swimming, but all she feels is his hands on her and the way his coffee brown eyes have turned to oceans in front of her. "Okay," she repeats softly.

"Okay?" Santiago nods, his breath coming a little fast. "I'll help you. I'll help you relax, sweetheart. You tell me to stop any time, okay?" He leans closer so slowly, their breaths mingling. He can almost count her eyelashes. Her nose is sweet and soft as it brushes his, but it's nothing compared to her plush lips. They seal against his and he feels the world fall out from under him. Something deep and ravenous unlocks and spills out all over his inside. He barely chokes down a groan.

There is no doubt that this is the most surreal moment of Daphne's life, and it isn't as though she hasn't been in some weird situations before. It's a miracle that she managed to get her beer bottle onto the nearby coffee table without spilling or knocking anything over, but she needs her hands for this. For a year and a half she's been working on a master's degree and avoiding too much contact with the one professor who makes her mind fog up and her daydreams wander, until finally she had landed in his classroom.

And now on his couch.

Kissing him.

If it were anything besides the most surreal moment of her life, she might have jumped backward or at the very least, pulled away. But Daphne has imagined kissing Santiago Garcia far too many times to do anything but sigh in response and open up for him like a summer rose.

"It's okay," he repeats soothingly between kisses: to himself, to her, to the waiting tension in the room. "I've got you, cariño. I've got you now, there you go, so sweet for me. So pretty. Beautiful, smart girl." He deepens the kiss, tasting her lips slowly, reverently, one hand sliding slowly down her soft sweater to rest on her waist and squeeze gently. He brushes his thumb over the soft material and then flicks it open, wanting closeness, to drag his palm up her thin blouse, wide and slow across her back.

The sound that bubbles out of her is a plaintive moan, unsure but wanting, and one of her hands grasps for steadiness on his arm even as the other instinctively sinks into his curls to keep him close. The battle is want versus wisdom, and it takes longer than she's proud of for Daphne to drag her lips from his and pant for a breath that still has no prayer of clearing her head.

"But." The fog in her mind has settled thick and heavy like the arousal in her core, and even as she's trying to straighten herself out she's still clinging to him with digging fingers and sharp nails. "You'll get fired," she manages to breathe out a few seconds later. Her only real protest being that she doesn't want him to get in trouble over a whim – which is surely all this is to him.

"Baby, no, no," he shakes his head, almost laughing with relief that that is her only concern. "No, you're graduating. I'm not your teacher any more. You handed in your paper. We can finally do what I – what I've been—" Shit. This is going to sound so bad. "What I've been thinking about since I met you," he admits.

Santi leans his forehead against hers, sighing. "I'm sorry. It's so inappropriate, but it's true. I've been waiting so long to kiss you, baby girl. Let me kiss you." He brushes his fingers over her knee, lifting her skirt just a little. "Let me make you feel so good, my little nymph. Do you even know how long you've been haunting me?" His mouth brushes her again, gently, over the corner of her mouth, the edge of her jaw, the flutter of her pulse, which smells delicious, deep and floral, her scent.

His cock aches against his zipper.

"Fuck." This time Daphne groans, sinking further into the couch, and feels herself giggle softly in disbelief more than she's actually aware of making the sound herself. "You've been haunted?" She challenges, eyes burning with courage now that she's heard his confession. Heard him beg. Did he really just beg for her? "Do you know how long I put off taking your class because I didn't know if I could even concentrate around you?"

Using the opportunity of her gently reclining body, Santiago leans in for the catch. "I never could," he murmurs into the hollow of her throat, his hands sweeping her skirt up, revealing her pretty legs, and god her thighs, so plush and luscious in his hands. He takes a moment to stroke there, brush the hem of her panties with his thumbs. "Never. You came in with Eros and made me Apollo." One thumb slips gently under the gusset of her panties. "Are you running, little nymph, hm?"

"Fuck—I—no, I—I don't even think my legs work now," she huffs, all at once tense as a bowstring with desire and measurably more relaxed as the reality of the man she's wanted forever finally touching her exactly where she wants him.

Well, not exactly. But it's not going to take long to get there at the rate they're going.

"What should I..." Daphne's head falls back on the sofa cushion as his thumb strokes her slit and she moans. "Santiago is a lot of syllables to moan."

"Santi. You can call me Santi from now on," he murmurs, removing his thumb from her panties only to twist the thin white cotton things, Jesus, so fucking wet, around his fingers and slide them down, down. He tosses them to the side and shucks off her high heeled boots while he's there, his eyes locked on where she glistens for him, needs him. "But you can call out any god you want to, bonita." He flicks his gaze to hers and smirks. "Show me how much you were paying attention, yeah?"

If she can even remember a single name from his class at this point she'll be shocked, and the cool air of his house on her overheated cunt is enough to have her squirming instinctively underneath him. Her brain has pretty much given up the ghost already, overstimulated in the very best way possible far before the rest of her body feels the same. Although she has a feeling that it will get there. "Santi..." Trying it out, there is a sweetness on her tongue and heaviness in her core that really is just a whine waiting to break free. Daphne's hands have found their way to his shirt front, fumbling to free the buttons even while she's nearly shaking with desire. "If you get to touch me, I want to touch you, too."

His lips find hers again, almost impatient to taste her again. "You can touch me, I want you to," he mutters against her lips, lifting her blouse hem from her skirt as she takes care of his buttons. Santiago doesn't pause, doesn't make it easy for her or for himself, drowning himself in the touch of her, the sweet little noises emanating from her throat, the ones taking a running leap on the way to begging for everything he's ready to give. He lifts her shirt over her head and begins tugging down her skirt an inch at a time, his fingers dragging slowly over her hips, her now bare legs.

Nothing is exactly torn away, not specifically, but the pile of clothing that collects beside his living room sofa accumulates quickly and haphazardly — shirts and sweaters and everything else discarded blindly as they drown in kissing each other and swallowing those moans that make their way to the surface over and over again. With that building freedom Daphne finds a buried courage — not that she is a timid lover by any means, but there is an eagerness below the surface here that she hasn’t felt in so long. When the only thing left between them is the flimsy pair of boxers that do nothing to disguise how achingly hard he is, Daph bites down on his bottom lip to pull a groan out of him and soothes it away by sucking on the same spot as her fingers slip under the waistband of his last remaining piece of clothing.

"Fuck," he hisses, hips jumping forward so that the weeping tip of his cock brushes against her hand and he groans. He sits up straighter, caught in a web, aching to touch her – at least take his boxers off, fuck – but loathe to move away from her curious little hand. He settles for sitting up on his knees, staring at the place she's touching him, watching her explore him as though in a trance.

Taking advantage of the momentary shift, Daphne sits up along with him and nudges Santi backward so that he is on his back now instead of her. His curls are mussed and his eyes are so black with lust that he looks positively debauched before she’s even had a chance to touch him very much. Once he’s on his back, though, Daphne hooks her thumbs in his boxers and peels them away, groaning at the sight of him. Harder than diamonds and leaking precum like an eager teenager, a sly smirk rides across her face knowing she did that to him. “I want to suck your cock,” she admits, gaze flickering between his length and his blackened eyes. “You have no idea how many hours I’ve spent imagining sucking your cock under that desk in your office.”

Santiago closes his eyes a moment. Is he fucking dreaming? Or is his most fucked fantasy coming true before his eyes?

"Probably almost as many as what I've spent imagining what that wet little pussy tastes like." His voice is a low rasp, but he pulls himself together enough to halt her hand on his throbbing dick. His fingers squeeze around hers, gliding over the rigid shaft slowly, with control. His breath fans over her forehead. "You want this, baby? Hm? Gonna have to give me something in return. Come here," he urges, a low purr, her very own siren. "Come here and give me a little taste, cariño."

“Even Kama had to worship a lover in order to find his release,” Daph breathes, having spent an entire semester doodling images of the Hindu love god’s sugarcane bow and bird companions in her notes while thinking of all the various ways her professor could be worshipped.

"Kama was burnt alive by Shiva, sweetheart, and I don't plan on doing any different to you. Come here, that's it." Santi helps Daphne turn in his lap, both of them facing the wall. He guides her hips over his face as he lies back on the couch. Thank fuck it was big enough, for this and more, and then her perfect pussy is hovering over his face, tantalizing him. At heart? Santiago likes torturing himself, loves the thrill of giving into pleasure. Perhaps that too, is why he waited so long to take this girl into his bed. Perhaps that's why he's slow and sure as he spreads her lips, flattens his tongue, and tastes her indulgently, from clit to hole.

Daphne's momentary flash of composure is gone again as soon as he tastes her. Her legs shake on either side of his head, thighs pressed to his ears so her moans are muffled but it isn't on purpose. It's just been so long since she had a man between her legs who knew what the fuck he was doing that just having her clit noticed is a vast improvement. Daphne's body sags momentarily before she is shifting all her weight to one hand and wrapping the other around the base of his cock to stroke his base with the pressure that he showed her – the pressure he likes – while she takes as much of him as she can into her mouth.

When he moans it's with a growl into her pussy she can feel vibrate all the way up through her lungs.

She's not fucking sitting, and he knows it's because she's still, however minutely now that her moans are ringing sweet and clear across his living room, in her head instead of fully in her perfect body the way he wants. Licking up her slick almost lazily, he drags his nails lightly up the outsides of her thighs before firmly catching her hips in hand and pressing her into his waiting mouth, his evening stubble scraping across her folds. Only then does he give her a real reason to moan, encouraging her to grind while his laps at her clit with his tongue, filling his hands with all the gorgeous skin he can reach.

"Sit," he grunts, "Fuck, baby, I wanna to go to the field of fucking reeds with this pussy on my face, come on, you can do it, give it to me."

Come on, carińo, I know you can come for me, such a good fucking girl, he thinks, his brain a hazy lightning storm at the sensation of her hot throat squeezing around him as she swallows. Fuck, he could let her do this all night, but he's hungry for her pleasure and he's so close, he can taste it. Santiago lifts her hips with a final loud suck and trails a finger around her slit, teasing, almost pressing, but only just, his thumb running circles around her clit. With a deep breath he lifts his mouth, slips his tongue and a single finger inside, fucking into her with slow, measured movements.

The overwhelming pleasure of having more than just the tip of his tongue inside her pussy has Daphne moaning so earnestly that she pulls off of him cock with a lurid pop. "Dammit—I—fuck, I'm going to cum—Santi, baby, oh my f—" The shaking of her legs and the coil in her core twist down on each other so her thighs tighten and he breathes into her like he's going to devour her whole as she falls apart at the seams.

Oh yes. He really likes hearing her moaning that, but not more than the way she gives in as her orgasm rocks through her, grinding her hips down, into his waiting, eager mouth, helping her ride him through it until the aftershocks ease. His voice is barely a scrape when he lifts her up, his aching cock swinging between his legs as he presses forward, eager for her mouth. "Did so good, baby, such a good girl for me. I need to fuck you. Need to fuck you, baby. How do you want it?"

"Any way." Daphne gasps, trying to wrap her head around any kind of how that's more artful than just sinking down on him right here and now. When she does wrap her head around it, though, she groans in a less ethereal tone. "Let me grab a condom." Like any sensible, sexually active college girl, she carries one in her regular purse. Emergency cock wrap, if you will. She just never thought she'd actually need it.

"Wait, I got it." He scoots up a moment, digging into the small table beside the couch. From the drawer Santi draws out the foil pouch and rips it open, quickly rolling it on before turning his attention back on Daphne, who's watching him with drowned eyes, eyes deep and longing and still so lovely.

"Lie back, sweetheart. You ready for me?" He slowly glides the head over her silky wet folds, smearing her slick across his tip.

Deciding she absolutely does not need to know how many other girls have been fucked on this couch -- possibly at the end of their own courses -- Daph pushed herself up on her elbows to kiss him fiercely. Tonight is not to be wasted. Tonight is to be a fantastic memory. "I'm ready." Her nails drag down the base of his scalp, having caught a near purr from him earlier when she did the same. "I want you to fuck me, Santi."

Almost before his name is out of her mouth, he's pushing inside her with a low rumble, his head falling back slightly into her hands. Her nails scrape sensation over his scalp and down his spine, and her cunt is licking flames over him, so warm and perfect he almost comes right fucking there, but halts, breathing damp against her lips, his teeth nipping her lip possessively.

They hold like that, frozen together in the heat of the moment as he regains his composure and she adjusts to the stretch and fill and thickness of his cock inside her. The only movement, in this long moment of coming together, is the languid slide and tangle of their tongues together as they drown in the intimacy of feverish kisses.

Gradually, Santi comes down enough to get restless, eager again. He nips and bites down over her jaw and descends on her throat, sucking a mark low on her collarbone as his hands pay some long overdue attention to her pretty, heaving tits. Mine.

When the mark on her neck is soothed with his tongue, he sits up slowly, his eyes a glittering black, his lips parted. He looks like he's about to devour her. He takes one of her calves in his hand, eyes never leaving hers, tipping her knee up towards her head and then out, spread wide for him. He grips her ankle in a warm hand. Then, with a grunt, he's pulling back and pitching forward hard enough for their skin to clap obscenely, fast enough to make them both soon begin to tremble.

The position that he's in has him almost entirely out of her reach, just close even to graze her nails over his chest as he thrusts into her at a pace frantic enough to make them both pant and heave. Her back arches off the couch with a keen and her hands grapple with the couch cushions for purchase to hold on tight as Santi fucks her so deeply and insistently that she can practically feel him all the way up in her throat.

"Gripping me so fuckin' tight, baby, Jesus," he says through his teeth, his jaw tight, streaks of pleasure raking down his chest with her sharp, clinging nails. Keeping his relentless pace, he bends forward, pushing her thigh up, testing her limit. When he's low enough he seizes her mouth with his, grinding deep.

"One more for me, pretty girl, one more," he whispers huskily, his other hand skimming down her body to rub at her clit.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, so good baby, oh my fucking god—" Something in Daphne's mind short circuits, and the rambling begins in earnest the higher and higher she climbs toward a second orgasm. Tripping over her own tongue and throwing her hands up over her head as he slams into her so hard that either they are moving up the length of the sofa or the entire sofa is moving, Daph is completely lost in her pleasure. That volcano of pleasure building in her core is damn near ready to explode and the only thing she wants more than to erupt is to take him with her.

The second her expression breaks and she cries out for him, he's gone. He thinks he's done even before she clamps down on his cock like a goddamned vice, ripping his orgasm from him in a half dozen hard but increasingly languid strokes.

His upper body grows heavy, and with a groan he grinds in deeply just once more – never mind why – and leans his forehead on her soft breast, pulling out of her with a sigh. His entire body is basking, floating. If she puts her hands in his hair again he might even fall asleep.

There's a moment of quiet as he ties off and disposes of the condom, and for a split-second Santi disappears around a corner but he comes back with a warm, damp kitchen cloth to clean them both up with before curling back around her on the couch. "Goddamn," she huffs, giggling softly to herself as his arms come around her.

"Tell me about it," he says sleepily, flipping the throw blanket over the two of them as they settle, kiss, explore lazily what before had been greedily consumed. "Still not sure I'm not dreaming," he says, only half-joking, tracing her lips with a smile. "Did I really get so lucky?"

"I'm not sure how you're the starstruck one out of the two of us," Daphne teases, even though it's through a thin veil of honesty.

"Bonita, I've been increasingly starstruck all semester," he chuckles. "You have so much to look forward to. Shit, you're definitely going farther places than I am. I'm just happy to be here," he presses a kiss to her left tit, "To enjoy-" to her right nipple- "The satisfaction of being right." He kisses her forehead and studies her, his lids heavy. "Do you need anything before you fall asleep, baby girl? You wanna sleep here or in bed? I can't let you bike home this late, querida, so don't even try. Besides, you can shower here, my plumbing is fine." He smirks here, as if anticipating the swat he's earned himself.

"It's not that late." Daphne wrinkles her nose at herself. The protest was just good manners. She doesn't actually want to leave. She wants to wrap up in him and breathe in this comfort for as long as humanly possible. When he levels her with a disapproving look, Daph just ends up grinning. "Let's go to bed," she suggests, catching his lips as he drags them along her jaw. "And when I wake you up in the morning with my lips wrapped around your cock again, you'll be glad your back isn't sore."

The laugh bursts out of his chest with delight, easy and real. "All right, baby, all right, and what makes you think I won't beat you to it?" Santi pulls her to her feet, wrapping the soft blanket securely around her shoulders before guiding her upstairs with a hand at the small of her back.

No matter which one of them beats the other two it, they both know they aren't done. Whether it's a weekend, a week, a month, or even more. This night is just the beginning.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

My Masterlist!

#Oscar Isaac #Oscar Isaac character fanfiction #Oscar Isaac fanfic #Santiago Garcia #Santiago 'Pope' Garcia #Santiago Garcia x OC #Santiago Garcia x female!OC #Triple Frontier #college professor au #professor!Santiago Garcia #pwp #really there is barely any plot here #and we're not sorry

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ladyluscinia · 7 months

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I think they were so worried about not getting a season 3 they ruined both the viewers expecting one and the viewers who would've liked it to end there. they've created an easily destroyable status quo because of course something needs to happen to get everyone back together for season 3. so it's not even a happy ending; it's so fragile, it's designed to fall apart the second that anyone learns that the show is back on. i get not wanting to bank on having a third season and wrapping it up but like. Galavant did that and did it better. WITH THE HEROES RETIRING AND THE TWO MINUTE MARRIAGE CEREMONY TO BOOT. But it gave an outline of where the plot might go from there and how the adventure will continue if it gets to. And it never got to, and season 2's ending is good because it's not /fragile/--it's not a cliffhanger, but you get the idea that they could keep going from there still. whereas this one didn't want to be a cliffhanger so much that they created the most breakable new status quo in history and if there is a season 3 it'll immediately be undone and I'll probably still watch it but like I'll /know/, y'know? They could fix everything in the first episode of season 3 and I'd still have to know that at one point, this was considered an acceptable outcome.

The thing that is driving me absolutely insane is they DID NOT HAVE TO DO THIS!

There's so many people looking at it like "well it's a shame that 2x08 clearly had to cram several episodes into one for budget reasons and it made the development weaker but that's the situation MAX put them in" and I cannot emphasize enough how much that is not true.

MAX did not break it to them after episodes 2x01 - 2x07 were written and half filmed that they would have to wrap up the whole plot in 30 minutes. Like absolute worst case scenario they had 10 eps mostly written and budget came back 20% over and they had to reduce to 8 total. More likely they knew they were getting 8 from the start.

It is absolutely nobody's fuck up except David Jenkins and his writers' room if they were unrealistic about what character beats were needed and would fit in the timeframe to reach a satisfying wrap up.

Worries about no S3 were on the table the moment it took until JUNE to get confirmation of S2. This wasn't sprung on them. If they wanted their story to have a "just in case" happy ending and then a "fully realized arc" happy ending, they should have fucking acted like it???

I was shocked when the first three episodes that dropped were so hardcore on destroying Edward's relationships and laying bare exactly how deep his issues went. It only made sense to me if they were going all in on getting a S3 and prepared to spend all of S2 focused on the implications of all that, and then the not-even two week in-universe timeline of the season reinforced my understanding that was happening.

"Shame we don't have time for our main couple to even start addressing their relationship or having moments of self-realization and sharing their issues," says guy who decided to make the first half of S2 about adding more problems on top of well established ones from S1 and the second half of S2 about throwing in a second breakup cycle instead of dealing with the fallout from the first.

Want Edward to end on a beat of feeling part of the found family? Well maybe adding a timeskip after 2x05 and then a crew chat in 2x06 where you make it clear he did an apology tour offscreen could help, but you also could have just not focused hard on him poisoning his relationship with every single one of them in the first place???

There's multiple different ways you can do Act 2 of a three act structure, and they did not have to choose one that ends on another dark cliffhanger beat or right at the open ended turning point toward growth? Like they didn't even do the one they picked in a way they could fit in their season. I feel like by the end of a struggles Act 2 both your protagonists need to have self-realized their issues and maybe had one conversation about it? Edward still wasn't talking about his guilt, and Stede wasn't talking about anything.

They aren't even at the turning point of growth and out of the backsliding / lessons learned era yet, that's why potential S3 will start on another backslide when status quo breaks and Stede starts "that's nice, dear"-ing Edward during the day and slipping out at night to vicariously listen to pirate stories or whatever (and they frame it like he's cheating).

We have two out of three seasons in a show that might only get two, and I feel like the characters have barely moved from their starting position.

Like idk maybe they are really good at coming up with character flaws - ex: Stede is repressed and bottles up his traumas until he mentally checks out / runs away - and just drawing blanks on how to believably "fix" them, but just going "well what if we just used this flaw to throw another miscommunication roadblock in their relationship?" is not getting them where they want to be.

The season was fundamentally designed against their stated goal and did not make what seem to be necessary writing concessions to the reduced screentime if they wanted their finale to land as an even plausibly happy ending. It's hollow.

And possibly not even salvageable in S3 since they aren't demonstrating the skills to salvage it.

#our flag means death #ofmd s2 #ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd 2x08 #david jenkins #ask #ladyluscinia #ofmd meta #ofmd critical

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 10 months

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Is Malleus not that famous in other countries cause in the Scalding Sands event Najma didn't seem to know who he was, there probably aren't many pictures of him around the internet but with how nervous Jamil was getting its weird it didn't cross her, you'd think he'd be pretty well known being the top 5 strongest mage and heir to the throne in Briar Valley

Well 😅 Najma’s just one person, right? I don’t think her specifically not knowing who Malleus is reflects on the average Twisted Wonderland civilian’s knowledge.

With that in mind, there’s actually many reasons why Najma in particular (and/or some other people) may not recognize Malleus:

People don’t always know political figures or figures of prominence in specific circles, especially if it isn’t of interest or of relevance to them. Think about it. Do you know the names and faces of political figures in countries outside of your own? What about specialists (athletes, artists, scientists) in fields you aren’t involved in? Thinking of it like that, it isn’t at all surprising that Najma, doesn’t recognize royalty from another country or highly ranked magicians (when she isn’t shown to be one herself).

Maybe Malleus just hasn’t been mentioned in Najma’s history class yet. For example, in Glorious Masquerade, we learn that Magic History class does not cover certain materials like the accomplishments of the Just Judge until year 2. Therefore, it’s possible that Najma has not yet learned about the Draconias in school. (Alternatively, it’s also possible that non-magic schools skim over notable mages; this would explain why NRC students specifically take Magic History, which I assume focuses on magic and mages, rather than just “History”.)

With how fae aging works, maybe the history books are just not up to date. There is a noted few hundred years of unexplained time between Malleus’s egg existing and it finally hatching when, in reality, it should have only taken a few years for his egg to hatch. It’s also said in book 7 part 4 that none of the history books speak of what happened to Briar Valley’s monarchs (ie Malleus’s parents), and that “the books at home and at the school library don’t mention anything about the Briar Valley’s history”.

It’s difficult to communicate with the Briar Valley. This is very possible, especially seeing as how the country is said to be lacking in way of technological advancements. (STYX is able to contact them, but they’re a secret organization 😂) This would likely mean that historians would have to physically travel far north to personally document Briar Valley themselves—which may be an arduous task, seeing as mirror travel and warp pads are not widely accessible to the general public. Since the Briar Valley is reclusive and even implied to not be accepting of non-fae, it may be even more challenging to get clearance to visit the country. A lot of their history seems to spread mainly by direct word of mouth (as Silver and Sebek imply in book 7; their father and grandfather, respectively, did not either of them about the Draconia family history or about the several years’ period of war Briar Valley went through).

In the actual Scalding Sands event, the visiting NRC students mention that the locals aren’t panicking about Malleus because the head wrap he’s wearing disguises him. Najma also later mistakes his horns as being decorations or fakes. This can easily be explained by the simple fact that… well, celebrities would wear different clothes in public to “blend in” and people wouldn’t recognize them because no one thinks “hey, I’ll run into a super famous person roaming my local market”. If you don’t pay enough attention to something, you may just overlook it. Attention is selective.

Aaaand of course, we have the good old boring explanation of “it’s for plot convenience, don’t question it” 😂

Personally, I think the “the history books just don’t talk about it” explanation is the most accurate, as there’s actual strong narrative implications of it in the main story; however, it’s possible that the real reason is a combination of all of these.

#twst #twisted wonderland #Malleus Draconia #Najma Viper #disney twisted wonderland #notes from the writing raven #question #twst theory #twst theories #twisted wonderland theories #twisted wonderland theory

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sarejima · 2 months

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i am a starving child and am requesting kyman fanfics to soothe my hunger (PLS recommend ME SOME)

OMG YAY SOMEBODY ASKED ME SMTH IM SO HAPPY AMSBSDB

Unfortunately I'm a green and inexperienced mother but I'll do my best!! (thisll be long as i cant keep from waxing poetic about fics i like)-

The love of my life and one of the best things I've had the pleasure of reading period is “Know your Enemy” by Elsen. It's beyond perfect to me enough so that even though it may never be finished I'm sort of satisfied. Eric's characterisation is beautiful and literally just as hilarious as in the show itself with the way he schemes and jumps over nonsensical hoops in his head in order to satisfy his self image in processing his feelings for Kyle and unwitting desires to submit to him. The plot and setting in and of themselves also somehow complement his absurdity. Also has just the right amount of perversion. (Okay I'm done sorry)

Another genius Cartman channelfic that I was audibly giggling at due to the insanity of his mental gymnastics is "I crush everything" by Rainbow_Convection which is quite short and mainly deals with him "processing" his feelings

(The above person is really good at writing compellingly about manic impulses and emotions so check out their other fics too)

On a similar note and also exploring implications of Cartmans outright deluded conscious, this time through Kyle's perspective, is 'Imaginationland 4: a tale of two Kyles' by Sinshipsahoy where it's revealed to Kyle (in increasingly horrifying ways) that Cartman's mind is (literally) swarming with him.

(This guy also has a worryingly well written corpse desecration fic so if that's your cup of tea)

In the 'I'm with Stupid' series by numbknee Eric gets together with Kyle and is annoying and fiercely loveable and everything's great until Kyle realises that sadly Cartman's views on relationships/love in general- but especially with Kyle, his 'enemy'- had been significantly skewed from the start due to an aversion to vulnerability, stunting their progress. I especially like the fourth and last fic/chapter.

Kinda depressing but in 'Sharing Last Names' by serpenrzbreath an adult Cartman's Kyle obsession is partly due to lamenting, while in the depths of denial, his own collosal wasted potential as over the years wasted rotting and room-bound due to severe mental instability but also just lack of trying, one of the only things grounding his shame is Kyle's comparative success, and when a time of reckoning comes an unwilling(?) Kyle is all he feels like turning to. However he soon learns that pity and concern is much more confusing and enraging than ire.

Some more Kyle focused fics are

'Love and the other thing' by Gumdroppy where we get an equal amount of Kyle and Eric perspective- Kyle who revealed his love for Eric as a kid first and loves Eric WAY too much for his own good(to the point where his friends feel the need to take measures to ensure his best interests) and Eric who perhaps fell harder- worships the ground Kyle walks on- but can't seem to help the kneejerk hurt and abuse that flows from his hands. Bonus points for jealous Stan and Kenny being an angel.

Ans also by Elsen 'How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Let My Mortal Enemy Eat My Ass' which is really hot with a compelling theme of overcoming Kyle's past trama what can I say

'It's basically a weird cat, right?' By Verimakea is a adorable fic about adult Kyle who by chance meets Eric in raccoon form(and then not-so-raccoon form) in which Cartman has separation issues and Kyle is forced to battle loneliness and incteasing mildly worrying feelings for this addition to his life.

Some other concepts:

'Baby, Just Say Yes' by shortstackedcheesecake96- a beautiful wonderful fic where the palpable chemistry between a (surprisingly earnest about the subject and a talented actor) Cartman and (quite good novice) Kyle get cast as Juliet and Romeo respectively. There's so much compelling teenage awkwardness where they both appear to be unwillingly drawn to each other despite everything in ways they feel they really shouldn't- Kyle especially is almost embarrassingly captivated by an Eric in his element- and it's such a pleasure to read; just thinking about some scenes has me wanting to reread it lmao.

(This writer also has a lot of enticing and well-written smut too)

'Fake it 'till you make it' by mewtwos is another fic I hold so so close to my heart in which Kyle and Eric have to fake date for a bit, until they realise that these fake displays of affection draw them in a little bit too hard; make them a bit too lightheaded, and by that point the reel has already been cast. It's insanely well written.

'Expertise' by Mewtwos where Eric is a little too eager to practice kissing with kyle and they have a little awakening

'To Be Wanted' by Verimakea- a Cowboy au where Kyle takes it upon himself to capture Wanted Sheriff Cartman, but things quickly gp array and they and up stuck together in one place for an indeterminate amount of time, with Kyle put in a position where he often has bo choice but to rely on the other. This writer is seriously skilled at painting subtly erotic/suggestive imagery, and writing complex emotions into characters through their actions so its quite the fun leg-kicking read lol.

'Copacabana' by Senkenwoo is a bittersweet fic about jaded middle aged retired performer Kyle recalling how he lost his charming and endearingly annoying bartender lover

Some unconventional smut cus y not:

'Laid To Rest' by gosh_zillah in which Kyle has a deep seated desire to be a cocksleeve and subsequently gets watched in his sleep by an enthralled little audience for a bit(among other things as he proves to be quite perceptive lol)

"You're in his DMs? i'm in his walls, we are not the same" by ratherblue - Eric watches Kyle have smexy times thru a hidden camera; implied mutual pining. Also Kyle's trans

'Cause I'm a free bitch, baby' by knumbknee where Kyle sees an Eric in proper drag for the first time and is transfixed

'sleep tight' by bloodylamb is a quirky little sleepover somnophillia fic where Kyle's mildly vocal about his Eric-disposition in his sleep if you're good with dubcon.

I'm sure you weren't expecting to be waterboarded by text and for this I apologise

#kyman #kyman fanfiction #its long i know #i will swear up and down for these fics tho #and these writers #there are probably loads of great ones i have yet to read #south park #its not 4am anymore so i fixed it lol

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rassicas · 1 year

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I think the concept behind Grizz is solid: a Former Bear who inadvertently Ship Of Theseus'd himself into Not Being A Bear Anymore ties neatly into the running theme of Judd and Lil Judd being the Only Mammals left: Mr. Grizz, whatever he is now, no longer counts as a mammal. But in execution... Yeah. They should have focused on the "Ship Of Theseus angle" and the fact that, in his attempts to bring back mammals, he's become more like the organisms that he's trying to destroy.

Ive gotten about a good few dozen comments on YT about this exact thing. but half of them being annoyingly condescending in the process for not bringing up this analysis in my Live (keyword live) reaction of me hating on the bear. i dont think ive really addressed how i feel about this particular thing because of how rude ppl were, but its been a while and youre being nice so long post incoming Anyway yes im very much aware of this 'ship of Theseus angle to grizz, I did see that "in defense of grizz" video. And honestly I do agree it is something about him that has interesting potential if they'd leaned into it more. Much of my distaste with the ending of ROTM is the build up and execution. They made the bear foreshadowing laughably obvious years too early, and then all the poor fools like me who care too much about splatoon's story had faith that "surely the splatoon team, who just made a story as surprising and serious as Octo Expansion, wouldn't handle foreshadowing the identity of their next major villain that badly" took the biggest L. IF the splatoon team had been more blatant that the Judds were the last mammals left throughout the series (the only time it was directly stated that all mammals were extinct before ROTM? in a dev interview. and for years nobody wanted to believe it whenever i tried bringing it up lmao.) if they weren't that on the nose about the bear imagery. if the only solid piece of deception they had about Grizz not being a bear in the entirety of splatoon canon wasn't in a paid artbook... if they were more deceptive about the fact, I'm sure i wouldve been a bit more accepting of the idea of him secretly being a bear from earlier on, and it would've been a cooler reveal. But surface level knowledge should be called into question by looking at the deeper evidence, not the other way around.

The ineffectiveness of the bear reveal is a culmination of Splatoon doing a frankly, bad job at putting whats supposed to be basic, important, worldbuilding knowledge in the game. I think the intended effect of the bear reveal was that the general audience of fans were supposed to have been like "woah, but all mammals are supposed to be all dead holy shit i cant believe hes a bear." and that info was supposed to put a wedge in the bear theories. but when 95% of the player-base anticipating splatoon 3 had no idea that all mammals (except the judds) are supposed to be extinct in the splatoon world and how that's an important part of its worldbuilding up until the announcement of the story mode, if at all...idk man thats pretty bad.

The way the info about mammal extinction was worded in the official news posts sounds like it was supposed to be common knowledge for Splatoon fans, not a surprise like it ended up being.

Anyway back to the execution, it would've been cooler if they'd leaned into that horror element, the fact that he's hardly even a mammal anymore. I think the implication is there. It is cool and fucked up in Splatoon's signature way! But again, I agree it would be better if it was played up or even acknowledged once directly, like in log.exe. Even with all the potential for bear Mr. Grizz to be cool, the years of too-blatant foreshadowing leading to a frustratingly disappointing reveal and the exact annoying plot holes i feared of has permanently soured the concept of him being a bear to me.

#asks #return of the mammalians #i also get a lot of but what about dramatic irony!#soooo many signs point to the intent of it being a serious surprise #doesnt help that the eng dialogue added in a fuckton of goofiness that wasnt even there in the original #it wasnt intended to be dramatic irony period

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honeyhotteoks · 2 years

Text

into the aurora - chapter twenty-one (ot8)

chapter twenty-one: and you can't stop now

chapter summary: the tension at the studio with hongjoong finally snaps

warnings: basically all smut, specific warnings for: oral sex (f receiving), fingering, rough sex/rough foreplay, public sex (kind of), implication of choking, extremely light spanking/impact play, pussy drunk hongjoong

pairings: ot8 x reader

genre: fluff, angst, romance, ateez ensemble x reader, polyamory, non-idol!reader, fem!reader, smut

word count: 5.1K

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You’re not sure exactly where it started, if it was just you wearing a skirt to work, the late hour, or just more evidence of how pent up you’ve all been with the busy schedules, but it hardly matters when you’re coming hard against his mouth on the studio couch.

Your hands are locked in his hair, body trembling as he moves to kiss your thighs and sweep his hand up and down your calf where you hang over the end of the couch.

The door is thankfully locked this time, a brief moment of genius on your part as he crowded you up against the door even though you know it’s nearly midnight and there’s not a soul left in the building. This time neither one of you knew how to stop, not a single half hearted attempt at saying you shouldn’t enough to keep him from you.

You let your hands drop after a moment and your eyes flutter open, nothing but the dark padded ceiling above you, and you think at least there’s one good thing about Hongjoong’s office.

“How was that?” He asks, kissing your thighs again and giving you a squeeze.

“Good,” You sigh, a dizzy smile on your lips, “this is really stupid, but that was really good,”

He chuckles against your skin and you feel him shrug, “You’re not wrong,”

“God,” You take a deep breath, pushing your hair back from your face but not trusting your body enough to sit up just quite yet, “you’re actually very good at that,”

“Yeah?” He asks, but you can feel in his tone that he knows it. Something in his demeanor shifted the minute he had you on your back, a little flicker of the man you used to watch on stage.

“Oh, shut up,” You swat at his hand where it creeps up over your hip.

“Hmm,” His hands push your skirt up higher so that now it’s fully rucked up and over your hips and you finally look down between your legs. He’s studying you, a little too closely and you fight the instinct to close your legs. “You have,” His finger runs down one side of your slit, just barely touching, “a perfect pussy,”

“Joong!” You blush hard, your hips shifting back and away from him.

He grins and looks up at you, sitting up a little higher so he can see you better and resting his arms on your splayed thighs, “I’m just being honest,”

“You’re just,” You flounder for the right words, letting your head drop back with a sigh, “I don’t know, you’re different when we’re messing around.”

“Different bad?” He asks, brow crinkling.

“No!” You sit up and reach for him, “No, you’re just so focused when you’re working. We don’t flirt or touch, and then all of a sudden look at us,”

“Ah,” He laughs, resting on his knees, still between your open legs though your skirt has fallen somewhat back into place and you feel a bit less exposed now. He slides his hands up your outer thighs and lets them rest on your hips, “Work is work, and this is this,”

“I can see that,” You smile down at him.

His hands tighten and the look on his face turns teasing, wolfish and plotting and you can practically hear him thinking, “So you’re saying you like me like this?”

“Hongjoong,” You nudge his shoulder, but he shifts closer.

“You do,” His hands sweep a line up and down your thighs again, “you like the way I make you feel,”

Heat is sparking again between you, and you want to say something but the words die in your throat when he dips forwards to kiss your chest, working his lips down to the top of your v-neck blouse until he’s squarely over your sternum. He sighs against your skin, his breath warm, and you shiver as he shifts his hands up your sides to pull the straps of your top down, letting the fabric drop down and pool around your waist.

“Joong,” You breathe, but he shakes his head, never once lifting his lips.

With careful delicacy, his kisses travel across your chest, and he peels the top of your bra down so there’s nothing in his path. His lips close around your nipple, and he sucks gingerly, holding you steady as your body jerks at the sudden sensation.

With ease he teases you, the flat of his tongue flicking your pebbled nipple again and again, and your legs widen so you can draw him even closer.

“y/n,” He tweaks your other nipple with his fingers, “darling,”

“Hmm?” Your eyes open to look down at him, the sudden pet name warming you.

“I need to make you come again,” He says, a little desperate edge in his voice, and his hand palms your breast a little harder, “right now,”

“H-Hongjoong,” You can feel him tense against you, like he’s ready to crawl inside your skin, and you shudder.

“Shh,” He shakes his head, pushing you back down on your back suddenly and dropping low again between your thighs, “I got you,”

His hand stays splayed wide over your stomach as he sinks his tongue into your already wet folds again, groaning as he does and pressing firmly as he flicks it over your clit. You clap a hand over your mouth to quiet the sudden moan on your lips and rock your hips against him.

“God,” He says as he lifts his mouth, “you taste so fucking good,”

A whine catches in your throat.

“Yeah, darling?” He teases, dragging his tongue from the bottom to the top of your slit, “Do you like when I talk to you?”

“Fuck,” His voice makes you shiver, and you open your mouth to respond but the sensation of his mouth attaching back to your clit makes your body jerk and you stifle another moan.

He groans against you, “I’m going to make you come on my tongue,” he murmurs, nipping at your thigh with his teeth, “and then on my fingers.” He drags his thumb over your clit, adding pressure when he drags it back again to flick it firmly and your eyes snap shut. “Then you can come on my cock,” he flicks your clit again.

“Joong, I swear to God,” You pant, your hips rocking to catch some more friction but he’s lifted his hand.

“Do you want it, darling?” He shifts forwards, lifting your legs to tilt your hips the way he wants you, settling the backs of your thighs on his shoulders.

“Touch me,” You plead, reaching for his hand.

“Touch you how?” He teases, blowing a cool stream of air across your cunt.

“Fuck,” You groan, dropping your hand to grip the cushions beneath you.

“Here?” You feel him press two fingers to your slit, using them to separate your lips, and you would be blushing about how he’s watching you, but it feels too good to care.

“Yes, there,” You nod, looking down and watching the way he smiles up at you from between your thighs.

“Right here?” He blows another cool stream of air over you, targeted on your clit now, watching as you jerk and rock under his hands. “Look at you,” he blows a little more air and smiles, twisting his head to the side to press a kiss to your thigh, “so desperate, aren’t you?”

Your mind spins, the teasing too much after you’ve already come.

“And so wet,” He adds, dragging a finger up through your folds just enough to gather evidence of your arousal on his fingers, “and soft,”

“Hongjoong,” You sigh.

“Fine,” He bites down softly on your inner thigh and you jerk under him at the change in sensation, “if that’s what you want,”

He sounds dismissive, bored even, but his tongue sinks into your folds and his arms wrap around you to anchor you positively immobile against his mouth. You squirm under him, whining and gripping down on the couch, holding on as best you can while he coaxes you open with his mouth.

You wouldn’t have ever guessed he would be quite so passionate or quite so dominant, but he devours you like you’re his favorite meal, and he groans into you every time you press your hips forwards onto his tongue.

“Ah,” You wince as he sucks hard on your clit, but the spike of pleasure that rockets up your body from your clit to your nipples makes you moan and your eyes snap open.

He shifts down, taking your sound to mean it was too much, and he’s not wrong. For a moment it was, but now you feel your clit throbbing and you need him to do it again.

“H-harder,” You pant, reaching for him and finding his hand over your belly, “do that again,”

He hesitates for just a second before he positions his lips and tongue over your swollen bud and sucks hard. The hot spike fires up your body again and you grip down on his hand, your nails digging into him.

“Really?” He chuckles against you, his words a little muffled, “let’s try that again, then,”

When he sucks again, a little harder and longer this time, you can’t stop the strangled noise that comes out of you and you clap your other hand over your mouth, “I’ll come,” you mumble through your fingers, “I’ll, fuck,”

“Perfect,” He sucks again, and suddenly his mouth is moving at a pace you can’t believe. It feels like his tongue is everywhere, and his hands are so tight on your body now you’re surely bruising, but you want it. You want him to leave his mark, suddenly and desperately, you want to feel him tomorrow.

He settles finally over your clit, and the cord inside you feels like there’s only a single thread left connecting either end together. He sucks harder, faster and more insistently. You know you're squirming under him but he doesn’t let you go, determined to draw you out.

He takes a sudden breath, before resuming his pace, and the shifting sensations combined with the sharp, almost painful pleasure is all it takes to pull you apart. The thread breaks suddenly, and you come hard once again, your legs vibrating with pleasure and your head back, body curled up in waves of sensation. You manage to stay quiet, your mouth open in a silent moan, but he knows anyways, no room to mistake the way your body is shaking.

You’re gasping, recovering your breath and thinking that you have a moment when he lifts his mouth, but he moves quicker than before. He drops your legs, shifting on the floor so that he’s at your side, and before you can ask what he’s doing, he has two fingers sunken deeply in your spasming cunt.

“Hongjoong!” Your eyes press closed tightly and you rock back onto the couch.

“Fuck, you feel good,” He sighs, pumping his fingers quickly, pressing in hard on every stroke in so that he can reach as deeply as he can.

The sudden shift has you caught in a haze, not given a second to come down from your orgasm and instead being held at a higher level of tension, drawing it out long like a rolling wave in a way you don’t know you’ve ever experienced.

You lean up just a bit, watching his hand as you spread your legs wider for him, but he presses you back down to the couch with a firm hand on your chest. You’re panting, breathy and shallow, and the way he holds you down leaves you nothing to do but let him take.

“M-more,” Your hand grips his sleeve.

He hums, pleased, and then leans over you just a bit more to better his angle, pumping into you firmly and flicking his fingers inside you at just the right spot to drag over your spongy g-spot over and over again.

The high tension and rolling wave takes you and you let it, pliant and shuddering under his hands. He watches your face with a stunned smile, cursing under his breath and holding you steady with the hand on your chest.

“Just like that,” He urges you, even though you’re deep in the middle of the dizzying orgasm, “fucking come just for me,”

“Joong!” You bite down hard, trying your best to keep quiet even though the soundproofing in the room takes care of most of that for you.

“God,” He presses his fingers in again, but keeps them in deep and drops his lips to your breastbone, pressing needy kisses along your skin, down your ribs, across the fluttering muscles of your abdomen, “I can feel you coming, beautiful,”

Your core is spasming around his fingers, muscles tightening and releasing with the waves of your orgasm, and you can barely think let alone respond. His fingers slip out finally, but he doesn’t lift up, his lips still dancing over your skin and his warm breath making you shiver.

His arm slips under your legs, supporting your awkward position slipping off the edge of the couch, just keeping you steady enough to let you recover.

When things do finally start to clear, you come back down to the feeling of his slow kisses, lips gently working their way across your skin. You blink your eyes back open and reach for him, finding his shoulder and letting your hand rest, “Joong, oh my god,”

He hums against your chest, “Yeah?”

“I don’t even know what’s going on,” You laugh, legs still feeling like jelly, “what did you do to me?”

“I’m not done,” He shakes his head, finally lifting up so he can press a kiss to your jaw.

“Yeah?” You sigh, “I don’t know if I can take any more,”

“Oh,” His voice drops a little, and you watch him shift at your side. He clears his throat softly and presses one more kiss to your skin before he nods, “That’s okay, we don’t have to do anything else,”

You bite down on your tongue to keep from laughing, the way you watched the spectrum of emotions pass over his face, but you keep going, “I’m just exhausted now,”

“Right,” He nods, easing your legs down to the floor and giving you a smile, even though you can see it’s a little half hearted, “that’s fine, we can go home as soon as you’re ready,”

“Hongjoong,” You watch as he runs a hand through his hair looking around him until he finds your underwear discarded to the side so he can pass them to you. You accept them and your face breaks into a smile but he’s still not looking at you.

“And then you know,” He says, rambling to himself now and trying to take his mind off how naked you are on the couch next to him, “we’ll do more another time,”

“Hongjoong,” You sit up, interrupting him a little more forcefully this time.

“Oh,” He turns, “what is it?”

“I’m messing with you,” You smile, “obviously.”

He’s completely still, processing your words.

“I’m messing with you,” You repeat and you watch a small smile bloom on his face, “and if you don’t let me fuck you, I might lose my mind.”

You expect him to scold, to laugh or to roll his eyes, but he surges forwards and pulls you closer towards him with a hand firmly on the back of your neck until your lips are locked back together. It’s unsteady though, and you tip forwards, bracing yourself on his shoulder.

“You’re so mean,” He nips at your lip and you twitch in his hands, “how are you still so mean after I made you come so much?”

“It’s funny,” You tease him, pushing him backwards until you’re tumbling down onto the studio floor.

“Funny,” He repeats, narrowing his eyes.

“Mhm,” You’re straddling his thighs, and you push away from him so that you can sit up over him and undo his pants, frantically pulling at the buttons and zippers, “god, why do you have to buy pants like this?” You groan, trying to get around yet another little decorative buckle that surely makes him look cool and fashionable but leaves you aching.

“Our stylist gives us a lot of the,”

“It’s not a real question,” You laugh, finally pushing his pants open and yanking them a little further so that they’re down his thighs. The hard line of his cock concealed by his boxers makes you hum softly, finally close to having him like you want him.

“y/n,” He starts to say, but his words fade when you pull his boxers down too, “oh fuck,”

You stroke him steadily, drawing him up and fully hard now, before you lift up and slide forwards. You glance up at his face quickly, seeing only hungry need in his expression, and then sink down to take him inside you in one fast stroke.

Hongjoong’s hands lock down on your thighs, gripping you tight as his head falls back, a cursing groan on his lips. You push your hips lower, making sure you have every inch inside, and then let yourself relish in the feeling of him.

“y/n,” He shudders, “you feel,” his voice trails off and his eyes blink back open to find yours.

“So do you,” You murmur.

“Move,” he sighs, “please,”

You start off slow, rolling your hips forwards and back to drag your clit along his hard pubic bone and give him the slightest bit of friction. If he could pleasure you, give to you so intensely, you could do the same for him. You clench your muscles, gripping his cock tight as you start to bounce and he swallows back a moan of his own.

“Feel good?” You anchor your hands on his chest for leverage, watching his face with rapt attention, searching for what makes him pant and curse.

“You know it’s perfect,” He groans, “god, darling,”

“Touch me,” You prompt him, needing his hands to do something more than just hold your hips, you want to feel him everywhere.

He blinks up and remembers himself, one hand remaining tight on your hip but the other traveling up your chest. You dip forwards just a bit more, and he palms each of your breasts as you continue to rock your hips, drawing him in and out of your tight core.

You moan as he cock passes over a sensitive spot over and over, and you collapse forwards just a little more to sink into the sensation. His hand travels up, slipping up your chest until his hand rests at the base of your throat. You gasp as his fingers tighten for just a moment, and his mouth drops open, watching the way your face responds to the sudden sensation of his hand on your neck.

“Mm,” Your eyes pressed closed as you ride him, focused on maintaining your pace for him, but your body is trembling and his hands roaming your body are making you dizzy, “Hongjoong,”

“Don’t stop,” He urges you, hands returning to your hips to help you.

“I need you to come,” You beg him, “please, please,”

“Fuck,” He curses and your eyes snap back open.

You watch the exact moment he decides to change the pace, a flicker of a smirk and he tugs you down, sliding his hand on your throat behind your neck and pulling you forward. You crash down, and you expect him to kiss you, but instead he just presses you into his chest. He wraps his arms around you, a vice grip to lock your body down against his.

“Joong,” You twist in his arms to try and see his face, but he’s holding you too tightly.

He hushes you, and you feel his legs move into a better position, “I told you I’d make you come on my cock,”

His words rush heat through your body, and with every sudden drive of his cock into your overstimulated body you can feel yourself rocketing back to where you were when he got you on your back on the couch in the first place.

“Ah!” You whine against him, “Yes, yes, Joong,”

His hand shifts, and you feel it descend suddenly onto your ass, a pleasantly harsh smack before he grips down on the plush skin and uses the position to hold you steady.

“My needy little darling,” He pants, never once breaking his pace.

The sting of your skin feels delicious, combined with the heady feeling of your oncoming orgasm, “Again, again,” you choke out with a whine.

His hand flexes, gripping your skin before he releases you and brings his hand down with another crack. You moan into his skin, biting down on your lip and feeling your body start to tremble again. “Is that just making you wetter?” He groans, “Fuck, it is, isn’t it?”

“Again,” You nod into his chest, the feeling of your body cresting once again.

“I want you to come,” He groans into your hair, “come on, baby,”

It only takes two more sharp spanks for you to come apart over him once again, and he pushes his hips up to thrust his cock deep inside you as you shake above him.

“I’m,” He groans and pumps twice more, coming fast into your spasming walls. He shudders under you, gripping you close and panting, another muttered curse on his lips. He holds you tight, his chest heaving under your cheek and his skin slick with sweat, and your body floats, disconnected and suddenly exhausted in the hazy afterglow.

When you finally ease back into your body, you decide that you’re starving. Lying on Hongjoong’s chest, with his arms still wrapped around your waist, you breathe easily, letting him hold you close with your cheek still nestled against his smooth chest. His legs have relaxed under you, and the thump of his heart has started to slow back to a normal rhythm.

Hongjoong slides his hand along your back, “Don’t fall asleep, darling,”

You shake your head just a little, “I won’t,”

“You sound very awake,” He teases.

“Hmm,” You sigh, turning your head just enough to press a kiss to his sternum.

“It’s late,” He murmurs, “we need to go,”

“I know,” You sigh, arching your back to stretch your exhausted muscles, before you push yourself up off his chest and look down at him, “but next time let’s do this at home, I’m starving, and I want to go to sleep,”

“I didn’t think you’d be more whiny after sex,” Hongjoong smirks, squeezing your thigh.

“Hey,” You slap his chest lightly, “you were the one who jumped me,”

“I know,” He nods, “that’s why I’ll cook you something when we get home,”

“You will not,” You roll your eyes, “I’ve only ever seen you order take out,”

“Okay,” He smiles, “then I’ll heat up leftovers for you,”

You grin, shaking your head and shifting off his body completely so you can get dressed again. “Mm,” You turn, catching his lips and drawing him back to you once he’s standing, “Will you put me to bed after?”

He laughs, smiling and his eyes bright, “How do you still want more?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” You kiss him again, “I just like your hands on me,”

“Mhm,” He breaks your mouths apart, “we’ll see,”

You know he’s just teasing, you know that the night will end finally with him in your bed, you can see it all over his face. He watches you while you dress, eyes flicking over you hungrily even though he made you come four times as promised and just fucked you senseless.

You pull your hair up into a neat bun, and do your best to wipe away any traces of smudged makeup before presenting yourself fully cleaned up to Hongjoong, “How do I look?”

“Good,” He assures you, no longer flirtatious and laden with innuendo, “but you do look tired, I shouldn’t have kept you so late,”

“It’s alright,” You shake your head, “I wanted to,”

He steps close, pressing a warm kiss to your lips and squeezing your hand, “You have an earlier day than I do tomorrow, I should get you home,”

“I’m using to being up late with you,” You tell him, pulling your bag up onto your shoulder and shaking your head, “stop worrying,”

He nods, pulling the rest of his things together and tapping out a quick message on his phone. He pulls a beanie down over his mussed hair and takes a deep breath, before clicking open his office door and peeking out into the hall. “All clear,” he says when he sees the halls are empty, “let’s go home,”

You follow each other out with a good foot of distance between you, something you just know to do when walking next to any of them now regardless of the time or place. Anywhere outside the dorm you’re cautious, especially in the office where a rumor like this could really hurt all your careers.

One of their drivers waits downstairs, and when Hongjoong pulls open the back door of the SUV he smiles, “I’m so sorry to keep you out so late,” he apologizes with ease, “we were just in the middle of working on something,”

“It’s okay,” Their driver responds, “I just dropped a few of the other members home, it’s no problem.”

“Okay good,” Hongjoong offers his hand as you climb into the car and you take it to hoist yourself inside the large vehicle, using his hand as an anchor.

In the car, the warmth of the vehicle has you nodding off almost immediately, despite the short drive home. It isn’t until you feel the car slow a full stop and your seat belt unbuckle that you start to stir again.

“We’re home,” Hongjoong murmurs, “let’s go inside,”

You stretch and yawn, rolling your shoulders and picking up your things, “Sorry, I’m just so tired,”

“That’s alright,” He smiles, plucking your bag out of your hands and throwing it over his shoulder, “we’ll get you to bed soon,”

You nod, exhausted from the work day and your time with Hongjoong in the studio. You have to be up in just a few hours, and you probably shouldn’t stay up any more, but the minute you walk through the door and see Seonghwa, Mingi, and Yeosang stretched over the couches you perk up a bit.

“There she is!” Seonghwa grins as he catches sight of you, “I haven’t seen your face all day,”

You roll your eyes, but smile, “I missed you all too, hello,”

Hongjoong sets your bag by the sliding door to your room, and then passes back behind you, this time laying a warm hand on your lower back, “Will you stay up to eat?”

“Mhm,” You nod, “you don’t mind?”

He smiles, his face warm and kind, “I’m happy to,”

He pecks your cheek before moving towards the kitchen, and you can tell he’s not intentionally making eye contact with any of the boys, but you are, and they certainly noticed. You can’t help the frankly stupid smile on your face, and you’re sure there’s a light blush on your cheeks.

“Don’t you have an early morning?” Mingi’s brow furrows as he looks at you, “You look exhausted.”

“Mingi,” Seonghwa slaps his arm.

“Do I look that bad?” You sigh, smoothing your hands over your cheeks.

“I didn’t say you looked bad,” Mingi corrects, hauling himself to his feet and walking towards you, “but you look like you’re about to drop and you’re up in,” he checks the watch on his wrist, “four and a half, five hours?”

“I know,” You lean into his hands, “I swear, I’m going, I just need to eat,”

“Alright,” He ferries you towards the bar and pushes you onto a stool, “let’s go,”

“I’m going to start following you all around when you have early schedules,” You groan, yawning into your hand, “I’ll bug you until you go to sleep early,”

“You already do that,” Seonghwa smiles, “and I’m not complaining,”

Yeosang settles next to you and brushes his hand over your hair, “I’ll make sure you get up tomorrow,” he says with ease, “don’t worry,”

“I got it,” Your head lifts up when you hear Hongjoong’s voice, “I mean, I’ll be up early tomorrow, I’ll make sure she’s up,”

“We don’t have a schedule until eleven,” Mingi says, “right?”

“Yeah, but,” Hongjoong gestures and shrugs, turning back to fetch your food out of the microwave.

Mingi opens his mouth to say something else, but you interrupt him as you stifle another yawn, “Joong kept me out late, he can get me up early,”

“Exactly,” Hongjoong agrees, grabbing you a pair of chopsticks and heading back to the bar.

Yeosang opens his mouth to say something else, possibly to suggest that he wouldn’t mind waking you, but Seonghwa shakes his head and Yeosang keeps his mouth shut.

Hongjoong feeds you a plate piled with leftovers, and you eat quickly and without preamble, the boys disappearing one by one to bed with a kiss. Everyone else goes to bed, but not him. He leans on the opposite side of the bar watching you eat until he’s sure you’ve had your fill and then clears it away. By the time he turns back around you’re already half asleep in your hands.

He takes you to bed quietly, easing into your sheets beside you and offering an open arm. He’s touchy sometimes, but not like the others who cling onto you like you might disappear if they don’t have their hands on you in some way. Instead of yanking you into his arms, Hongjoong offers you a soft place to land. You scoot towards him, easing into his arms, and in seconds you drift.

In the morning he wakes you with peppered kisses across your cheeks and softly murmured words. He pushes you out of bed until your feet are on the floor, until you’re on your way to the shower despite how bleary you are. When you make it back to your room, now shocked awake by the cold water, you find him passed out back in your pillows. He looks younger like this, his face clear without any of the stress of leadership. With quiet movements, you get ready for your early workday, and before you leave you tuck him back into your bed. With a gentle tug, you pull his phone from his hand and plug it onto your charger. You know he’s just as exhausted as you, if not more, but he’s trying. In many little ways, you are taking care of each other.

You slip out of the apartment before the day gets going and into the early morning light of the city. Things finally feel right, solid and sure. Seoul feels like home, and so do they.

~next chapter will be posted on sunday, 10/30 at 10:00 AM ET

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