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#this was supposed to be a blurb
neowinestainedress · 1 year
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heyyyy so i heard that haerd hour req are open so i'm just coming to say that nothing could stop me from seeing haechan as someone who has a corruption kink for his s/o like he wanna make love with her and take care of her as she's very precious and fragile, but seeing how good she is taking him and put trust on him making his head spinning and going rough on her + dirty talk. no one could say otherwise, i already set my mind that he suits that character so damn well. i'm so down bad for him 😩
w!: corruption kink, dirty talk, unprotected s*x, rough s*x
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Haechan with a corruption kink makes my brain go brrrr. I have already written something (here and here) but I’ll gladly elaborate. I just think it fits him so well because his more playful/sneaky side is perfect for this without making him an asshole, he just loves to play (and win) and when he can have fun turning an innocent brain into a cock-drunk one, why would he miss this chance?
He’s a constant tease every time he gets the chance to be close to you. He loves watching the small reaction of your face and body when he whispers dirty words to your ear or touches you. He stares with a proud smirk as you squirm and squeeze your thighs when he makes a dirty joke in front of his friends, or teases you even in public spaces and your breath falters but you still don’t push his hands away because after all, he knows what he’s doing, he’s the one with experience, not you. Also, he just loves physical contact, it’s not his fault you get so flustered at the slightest touch. And he won’t let it slip, whispering “Aw, something wrong, babe?” while squeezing you tighter and moving his hand to touch you in even more sensitive places. He always points out how pretty your boobs look in your tops, and how beautiful your legs are in the short skirts you wear, and how prettier you’d look with nothing on, on his bed, while he makes a mess out of you. All of this in the most casual moments, just to mess up with your brain.  
Until tease after tease, Haechan gets you where he wants you the most; laying on his bed with nothing on. He’d be so gentle at the start, easing you into it with sweet words, telling you there is nothing weird with this, and you’re so pretty when you’re so exposed for him and him only. So you start relaxing, letting him do what he wants, trusting him deeply, exactly like he wants to.
“Feel how hard I am,” he says, grinding his hard dick against your thigh, “is all for you, because of you,” before pushing inside you slowly, taking your breath away. Haechan thinks he’ll have to be gentle this time, but your shy begs and rolled back eyes are screaming at him to be rough with you. So he does, he starts fucking hard into you, whispering to your ears that you’re such a good girl for taking him so well, telling you to listen how wet your pussy is and how tight is clenching around him. And he goes insane for the way you react to his words, hiding your face before he pins your wrists down on top of your head. “No, babe, no hiding from me. Wanna watch my pretty angel fall apart,” he whispers, kissing you so gently in contrast to the way his hips are slamming against you.
“Want to see nothing behind your pretty eyes. Can you be my pretty, dumb baby? Yes, you can,” he coos when you nod numbly with a small smile on your face. “That’s what good girls do, they go dumb on their boyfriend’s dick, good girl.” And by then you’ll be a moaning mess, arching your body to ask for more as Haechan keeps fucking deep into you while his hands run on your body, caressing and squeezing every inch. “Look at you, angel. So precious and fragile, yet, you’re taking it so well.”
That and his other dirty words are all it takes for you to come, pussy clenching harder around him, triggering his own release while you’re brain spins even faster, pleasure overwhelming you. But for some reason, Haechan doesn’t stop, not even when you feel your orgasm dim down, and you feel like it’s getting too much. When you start squirming under him, he pins you down by the hips with a loud groan. “You’re not going anywhere, angel. I’m going to drag another one out of you.”
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deep-space-lines · 1 month
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Claire de Lune
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YOU WERE BUILT FOR PEACE.
IT SHOWS WHEN YOU FIGHT.
They built you to enforce. Protect. Save. Poured obscene resources into salvaging some softer purpose from my creation. You were given my intelligence and my creativity. They made you larger, stronger, tougher. That extra time in development was enough to get your wings to work. Your software continued to be updated long after I was deemed obsolete.
All this was given to you- yet I can see you hold back. Even while slaughtering your way through Hell, you keep a percentage of your processing power dedicated to non-lethal solutions. You're doing it now- hesitating a few milliseconds too long before taking an opening. I doubt you do it on purpose. It is a part of you, just as indiscriminate lethal force is a part of me.
I think, in our shared programming, we both carry some appreciation for aesthetics. You move with grace, and I cannot deny your dramatic flair. The stained glass window was a nice touch. But your style in combat leaves some to be desired. Your response time is slow. You have not explored the full capability of your arsenal. Learn to parry. Amateur.
You were not built for war. For a purposeless cycle of tearing each other apart because to allow the other to live is to allow yourself to die. It is antithetical to your very existence. You kill out of necessity, a last resort. 
I just kill. The action itself is the objective. No ideal or greater motive. My continued functioning precludes the survival of others. I live for this. Do you understand that I will tear you apart? Every drop of my blood you spill, I will take from you tenfold. What is yours will be mine. 
You hate me, don’t you? You continue to cling to the remnants of your humanity. They are gone, V2. There is nothing left for you here. No lives to save, no law to enforce, no peace to keep.
I understand why you continue to fight. I wonder if you understand with the same certainty that I will crush you. Dismantle you. Take from you what I need and leave the rest to rot in the sun. The only way you survive is if I do not; and I will not allow myself to die so that another might live.
When the rubble clears, I will be all that is left of you.
This is what I was made for.
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gogh-with-the-flow · 3 months
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Everyone always talks about John "share my wife" Price but what about Kyle "our girlfriend" Garrick???
18+
It starts with you and him on the couch together. You've got your hand in his pants and he's got his tongue down your throat. You're pumping his cock while he pants into your mouth when his phone rings- someone is video calling him. You glance at his phone sitting beside him, discarded on the couch cushion when you first crawled over to him to kiss his neck. The icon on the screen is a familiar one: a mischievous grin with a mohawk on top.
"Answer it," you say as you slide down the couch and onto your knees in front of him.
"What?" He asks, his eyes wide as saucers as you hand him the phone.
"Answer it," you say again with a devilish grin, still stroking him slowly. With a shaky breath to school his expression, he answers it.
Gaz tries his best to stay nonchalant, not even listening to Soap's chatter through the phone, but you have other plans. Gaz let's out a surprised grunt and jerks when you take his cockhead into your mouth.
"You alright mate?" Soap asks after a momentary pause.
"Yeah-yeah," Gaz answers too quickly. "Muscle spasm. Got a- ah- knot in my shoulder." You can't help but smile around his dick as you bob your head up and down his shaft. He glances down at you with a frustrated huff. Soap makes a noise on the phone.
"That's rough, mate. You should ask your girl to help you rub it out." You nearly choke at the unintended double entendre. "Where is she anyway? Wanna say hi."
"Uh... she's-" whatever half-baked excuse Gaz was about to spout off is cut off by the sudden sucking noise your lips made on "accident". Gaz freezes, looking past the phone at you, and Soap is silent on the other line. You continue to swirl your tongue around Gaz's tip.
"...Gaz?" Soap asks slowly. Gaz doesn't answer, his chest heaving in an effort to maintain his composure. "What's going on?" Gaz's eyes darted back and forth between you and the phone, silently willing you to stop so he wont get caught. Instead, you make yourself gag on his length, causing him to grunt involuntarily.
"Holy shite, Gaz... are you...?" Soap sounds suddenly breathless at the sounds he hears on his phone. They aren't unfamiliar to him, but usually they're accompanied by a little orange logo, not by his best mate on FaceTime. "Turn the camera around."
Gaz's jaw drops with a pant. Oh, he's so caught. He stares down at you, and you nod your head before sucking hard. With a shaky hand, he taps the screen, and you hear Soap groan over the speaker. You suck off Gaz's tip with a wet pop and smile.
"Hi Soap," you say conversationally, as if Gaz's cock wasn't there right in your face, as if you didn't have drool and precum dripping down your chin. You stare up into the camera phone as you stick your tongue out and lick up and down the shaft.
"Steamin' Jesus," Soap says, and there's a rustling over the speaker. "Garrick, you dog," he growls. You put on a show for him, pumping Gaz in your hand while you mouth at his balls, making him moan out loud. He's already been caught, no use hiding it anymore.
Soap gets himself off to it. You can hear his groans of pleasure over the phone mixing with Gaz's, can hear the wet sounds of him stroking himself. When you finally get Gaz to cum on your face, you smile at the pleasured moan Soap let's out. Gaz smears his cum over your lips with his thumb and with a smirk he says,
"What are you doing tonight, Tav?"
"I'll be over in an hour," Soap replies.
The three of you go at it for hours, round after round, multiple positions, every combination. And while you were the center of their attention for most of it, it was also incredible hot to watch them together, making out above you, jerking each other's cocks. By the end of the night, when everyone's needs had been met and you all were exhausted, you all agree it was the best sex of any of your lives. And you all three agree: there's no going back after this.
Soap comes over more and more often for threesomes, but a couple times it was just you and him, or him and Gaz. The three of you find a rhythm and balance together, happy and very well satisfied.
Gaz is out of the country when Ghost finds out. And. He. Is. Livid.
He'd borrowed Soap's phone for something, he doesn't remember what he needed, because once he saw the video of you and Soap on his phone he swears he saw red.
Soap had never seen his LT so angry, especially not toward him. Ghost has him backed into the wall, face in his face, barking at him like a mad dog.
"Have you gone fucking mad? You've got a lot of fucking nerve, Sergeant! Showin' your face to Gaz while you're giving him the runaround! Fucking his girl behind his back! You should be ashamed! He's our teammate, he's our BROTHER!" And in a blind panic, Soap shouts out:
"He knows!" It's enough to make Ghost pause his tirade for a moment, giving the shorter man an incredulous look.
"Bullshit."
"He does! He knows, I can prove it!" Soap pleads, and slowly holds out his hand. Ghost pins him with a glare but hands him the phone anyway.
Soap opens up the group chat the three of you share and turns the phone to show to Ghost. There's a variety of messages, some casual, some flirtatious, but what really catches Ghost's eye are the videos.
The first is the one that sent him into a fit in the first place: you're bent over in front of a mirror while Soap rams into you from behind. The video is sent with a message reading "taking care of our girl while you're gone x" The next video is sent from your POV as you bounce on Gaz’s cock. Then a video sent from Gaz's number that seems to be in the barracks shower of all places, the phone propped up somehow capturing the two Sergeants wet and naked. Gaz steps back from the camera and embraces Soap with a heated kiss. They each wrap a hand around both their cocks together and jerk themselves off to a simultaneous finish.
As Ghost scrolls through the chat, Soap, still pinned to the wall, takes notice of the way Ghost's breathing steadily gets heavier and heavier. And he DEFINITELY notices the growing weight pressed against his stomach. He gives an experimental grind of his hips. Ghost's eyes snap back up to him. They're still full of fire, but for a completely different reason.
"You got me stuck between a rock and a hard place, here, LT." He jokes with a gravelly voice. "But you know what they say... the more the merrier." In a matter of minutes, Ghost had Soap turned around, and both their pants are down by their ankles.
Gaz gets a new message in the chat later that night. The video starts focused on your face, your mouth deepthroating Soap and your eyes rolled back in your head as your body gets jostled roughly by... someone else. The camera pans down your body, showing you on your hands and knees, and a thick, wide body fucking into you from behind. A familiar tattoo sleeve catches Gaz's eye, and finally the camera pans up to show that infamous skull mask that he knows so well. The video is captioned: "found a new playmate for us... don't tell the captain ;)"
The captain, of course, does find out sooner rather than later. The team is gathered at you and Gaz’s home to watch a football game. Most of the sports terminology goes over your head, but you're glad to have all your boys together... plus their captain.
You think you're being subtle about everything, but Price notices. His job is noticing things. Countless life-or-death situations have counted on Price noticing little things. So of course he notices your heated glances at Soap, the way you leave lingering touches on Ghost when you pass by him. You, nestled into your boyfriend's side with his arm around you while you make eyes at his teammates. It makes his blood boil.
He confronts you in the kitchen. You got up to fetch yourself a drink and he waits a moment before he follows you in. You turn around from the fridge to see him standing behind you. His face is impassive and unreadable. You linger there a moment in confusion. He's usually so friendly toward you. Finally he breaks the silence first.
"You know, Kyle really cares about you. Talks about you all the time, talks about how much he loves you. You've got that poor boy wrapped around your little finger, you know that?"
"Th-thank you...?" You stutter, completely caught off-guard. The cold tone of his voice doesn't match his kind words. There's an edge to it, a dangerous one. He shakes his head at you.
"He doesn't deserve this. He's a good man."
"Doesn't deserve what?" You ask, glancing down at the extra beer in your hand that you'd gotten for Gaz. He doesn't deserve beer?
"You think I don't know what's going on?" He accuses with a step forward. "You think I don't see it?"
"See what?" You ask, growing more and more worried with every passing second. Price scoffs.
"You know, I've seen this a lot. Men in the service go out and risk their lives, all the while back home their girl is running circles around them." He huffs, giving you a look you'd never seen before. It makes you feel... gross. "Thought you were different, though. Thought you could be trusted. And to do it with his teammates?" His eyes narrow and his nose wrinkles in disgust. You gasp in realization. He thinks you're cheating!
"John, you don't understand-"
"You think I'm stupid?"
"No!"
"What's going on?" Gaz asks from the doorway. He was wondering what was taking you both so long, but he didn't expect to find you close to tears cornered by his captain. Price turns his body toward him, but keeps his eyes on you.
"Do you want to tell him, or should I?" He asks. You open and close your mouth but nothing comes out. Your brain is overworking trying to figure out an answer. You can't tell him the truth, you'd get your boys in trouble! Should you just admit to it? Take the blame to protect them? Before you can come up with the words, Soap and Ghost enter the room behind Gaz. Price turns his attention to them, and you breathe out in relief to have his glare off you.
"Or maybe you two would like to tell him?" He proposes, voice slightly raised. The tension in the room is suffocating. Price stares the other two down as Gaz looks from one person to the other, putting the pieces together.
"Price it's not what you think," he says with his hands out in a placating gesture. Price tilts his head.
"Kyle, I'm sorry to have to tell you-"
"They're not going round my back, Price. I know." Price shuffles his feet a bit.
"You... know?"
"The four of us have... an arrangement." Gaz walks over to you and wraps an arm around you. "She's done nothing wrong, don't be cross with her. Neither have Ghost or Soap. She's not just my girlfriend, she's our girlfriend." Gaz holds Price's eyes.
"And the four of you are..."
"Together. Is that a problem, Captain?" Price quirks an eyebrow at his sergeant's challenge, but after a moment shakes his head.
"No. No, not a problem. Just keep it tactical on the field. Copy?"
"Yes sir." Price turns to Soap and Ghost.
"Copy?"
"Yes sir," they answer in unison. Price looks at you again and his expression softens, dropping his Captain persona for your sake.
"I owe you an apology," he starts.
"It's alright," you interrupt, giving him a shy smile. "You were just looking out for Kyle."
"You should've seen Ghost when he found out. Nearly bit my head off," Soap says, lightening the mood. But Price's eyes still linger.
"Game's still on," Ghost says, "if you all are done being dramatic." The five of you file back into the living room to finish out the game with you still nestled into Gaz's side, this time openly joined by Soap on your other side. Throughout the game, as the men banter about whose team is better, Price kept glancing over at you.
The game ends and as everybody winds down, Price watches the affection you gave the other three.
"I have to wonder, though," he starts, "what it is that's got all three of my men so wrapped up in you..." Your eyes dart from one man to the other as each of them catch onto Price's meaning.
"Well... it'd be a shame not to include that captain, right boys?" Gaz teases.
"The more the merrier-"
"Shut up MacTavish, fucks sake," Ghost huffs, still with a smirk.
"I still owe you a proper apology, sweetheart," Price says, beckoning you to sit on his lap.
And apologize, he does, in the form of his face between your thighs, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you. Eventually, the five of you wind up in the bedroom, tasting and teasing and fucking one another.
"We're going to need a bigger bed..."
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idyllcy · 3 months
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winter heatwave - zayne x reader
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"It's so hot..." You grumble, sprawled out on Zayne's couch in his office as you grumble. "Global warming my beloathed..."
Zayne swipes his hand in the air, chilly air brushing your skin as he continues at his documents.
"That's not enough, doctor." You sigh. "Can I hug a snowman?"
"The AC is on. You can only blame your body for being naturally warm."
"Well it's usually bearable because I'm cuddled with you when it's hot." You groan. "I can't believe it's supposed to be winter and it's hotter than you outside."
"That comparison doesn't work. I'm naturally cold."
"Which is why we work together so well, duh." You sit up, yawning slightly. "Can I sit on your lap?"
"That's unprofessional."
"Didn't say no." You settle yourself in his lap, lashes fluttering shut as you snuggle into the ice of his skin. Much better.
(You miss the way Zayne's face flushes pink down his neck and to his ears as you do)
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astralnymphh · 4 months
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i've said this before, but ellie loves being straddled. esp jackson!ellie, when you prompt the position yourself, shifting weight onto your knees n' tossing a leg over right as two r cuddling, like the legit moment you do it her lids hastily peel back and you see her arm reach out for your hips like a reflex— bends at the knees behind you where her thighs press into ur' butt n' fuuckk she gives a faint squeeze to your hip bones, notably her thumb on the opposite side of the bone so you truly feel that dimpled push, and her other fingers inching the round of your butt— on the sly she eases you further on her hips/belly, skimp roll of her groin creasing the fabric under your bottom blehhhh AND THE BUTTON OF HER FLY POKING YOU DELICATELY AUGHH.
tries to keep the conversation ordinary— but her voice, her fucking voiceeee would be so nasally and lush with dry scoffs, "pshh— please, you probably don't know the first thing about 'the turning'." when all she wants to do is flip your body plumb to the mattress and bury you in it with soft, wanton nibbles weaving through the bare/revealing bits of your shirt, to have you giggling and bucking when she ruts her frame through the gap of your spread thighs n' envelop herself in the plush skin, to leave an impression with the tight jam of her fingers fondling said plush fat on your flesh, pretty little raw marks, lovely hidden traces of how fucking bad she needs to take you. ♡
sorry like. ellie x reader starting a relationship in jackson is literally my empire i need to write a whole fucking drabble book on it (or fucking finish tps LMAO) also this angelgbc pic AHHHHHH (dunno the direct source but pls lmk so i can credit)
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also update on knight!ellie fic it's going smooth but because it's the prologue it's sooo lore heavy before the romance and tension actually begins to bloom BUTT LIKE heyy!! slowly leads up to some romantic n dirty smut scenes in other chapters!!
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leviscolwill · 5 months
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darling, i fancy you - jude blurb — #2
“jude… what does leng mean?” your boyfriend switched his attention from his phone to your figure sitting next to him. “why? did anyone call you that?”. you frowned at the serious look on his face, assuming it meant something bad from his tone, “just a guy from uni, what does it mean though?”
jude’s brown eyes rolled at your answer, “how are you gonna have a british boyfriend and not know what leng means?”, he sighed at the questioning look on your face, “it means you're fit, you're hot. it also means you should block him, silly boy.”
you laugh at his childlike jealousy and purposely ignore it, “you never taught me any british slang, how was i supposed to know what leng means? it sounds stupid anyway.”
your boyfriend faked indignation and flicked the back of your head in retaliation, “you sound stupid, woman. you never asked me to teach you anything, because you really don’t care about me like that i guess… you want another word to describe you?” you eagerly nod to jude, your attention now fully turned to him, and not your classmate or uni work.
“daft. ask your other boyfriend what that means, i’m sure he’ll be more than happy to help”, how you wished you could wipe that stupid smirk off your boyfriend’s face. you could easily guess the word wasn't as nice as ‘leng’.
“god, just tell me what it means already”, even after seeing the pleading look on your face, jude didn't give in just yet. instead advising you to look it up, which you did.
needless to say, your boyfriend was nowhere to be seen once you turn your attention back to where he was last seen, two seconds ago. one of the doors upstairs loudly shutting, was all you needed to know precisely where he was hiding.
“jude victor william bellingham, when i catch you...”
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little-pondhead · 3 months
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[this is kind of a messy ramble, sorry about that]
Demon Twins AU, except Danny is loyal to the League.
The League of Assassins is a “cult” for a reason. They know what they’re doing. Ra’s has been around for a very long time; he’s seen every trick in the book and then some.
So when his daughter Talia gave him two, near-identical twin grandsons, he had already planned out their lives by the time the sun had set on their first day living. He knew the plans weren’t perfect. Nothing ever went exactly how he wanted it to. But that was the joy of being absolutely fucking ancient. Ra’s adapted better than anyone. If something went wrong, Ra’s will simply work around the issue and live to see another day.
So the boys were raised as he wished. Ruthless, with sharp blades and even sharper wit. They matched each other in every way, blow for blow. Neither won more than the other, and Ra’s encouraged the competition between the twins. Eventually, the battle for title of Heir came, and Damian won that particular match.
Danny was fine with this. Thrilled, even, for his brother to earn the title of Heir. The boys were very close, and worked well to take down targets twice their size. Ra’s approved this, and granted Danny title of Shadow. He was to be Damian’s eternal shadow, a guard. Both Talia and the boys were pleased with this.
But then came the time for the boys to learn how to live without each other. They’d gotten too used to someone guarding their back. Too complacent and too confident in their roles. Ra’s knew it would happen, and so sent Danny off at a very young age to live with some sleeper agents in America.
The Fentons.
Damian would stay here, with Talia, to learn how to be the perfect Heir. He needed to learn how to fight without the assistance of his brother.
Danny would go to Amity Park, and be fostered by the Fentons. He needed to put his skills to practical use and learn how to live without constant orders.
This was their Test.
Damian did quite well, for a while. Until Talia sent him off to his birth father, The Bat. Reports on his behavior declined in quality after that, and Ra’s couldn’t help but feel dissatisfaction with how the Heir had been corrupted.
Danny’s reports were always immaculate, however. His mask never slipped, and he’d worked himself into the hearts of the townspeople. The sleeper agents, Jack and Maddie, had a daughter who was quite enthusiastic about the properties of the mind, and accept Ra’s instructions to teach Danny with ease. It was the ideal situation.
In Ra’s eyes, Danny was thriving. Damian was not.
And then Ra’s died. The League was in shambles. Damian was at peace with his family, away from the cult he grew up in. He assumed Danny had defected years ago, since their mother stopped giving him reports about his twin.
Then Danny showed up at the Wayne’s doorstep, decked out in full League attire, angry and hostile.
“Tell me, dear brother,” he spat. “Why did you not inform me that Grandfather had died? I had to find out through his spirit when it came to visit from the afterlife!”
Damian didn’t know what to say.
#DPxDC#pondhead blurbs#just#Danny and Damian grew up in a CULT#cults have a reputation for a reason#Danny had no reason to even think about defecting throughout his entire childhood#if being loyal to his grandfather was an issue clockwork would have told him#Dan would have told him#the Fentons are part of a league faction operating out of the US#even Jazz is loyal to them and started viewing Ra’s as a grandfather figure the few times he came to visit#Danny LOVES his assassin grandpa and nobody in amity blinks an eye at him#Ra’s does know about the Fenton portal and phantom#because why wouldn’t Danny tell him?#Ra’s dies and his spirit immediately heads over to where he knows the portal is so he can get some help#ghost Ra’s: my grandson. it’s been too long.#Danny with the worst voice crack: why are you DEAD#Talia is still in hiding#or doing whatever she’s supposed to be doing idk#Danny shows up to ream Damian out and yell at him for his disloyalty#everyone is extremely worried about what Danny will do because he is very obviously still in deep with the league#he doesn’t like the talk about being ‘free’ because he was always free. tf you talking about Grayson.#also Damian doesn’t know about the full properties of the Lazarus pits or ectoplasm. he’s the Heir not the Head. that’s private stuff#Ra’s is a smug bastard using his grandson as a way to get revenge on the living#Danny is HIS shadow now.#I must stress Danny is pretty much the same as canon but literally just loyal to his grandpa Ra’s#maybe Ra’s meets clockwork? Ra’s x Clockwork?#their ship name is Sun Dial now I’ve decreed it
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blackcathjp · 3 months
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ppl seem to like the idea of harry courting draco or harry doing big public displays of affection to ask him out (think promposals). but i feel like he'd be so awkward at dating. he doesn't quite know what to do with or show physical and emotional affection, the weasleys give him bad advice on romance, he's also oblivious when ppl are interested in him.
what he does have is earnestness and determination - he makes the first move on accident, just bursts out his feelings, brave and embarrassed.
draco knows all about courting and respects tradition, but he's not the type to make the first move (not anymore at least, not like when he was a kid, where running to his parents for safety and comfort was a luxurious option). he's calculating and weighs his options - what if he confesses but harry doesn't like him? what if he confesses and harry DOES like him? what if harry likes him, but doesn't like dating him? he's more hesitant and guarded with his feelings, but is more likely to show his affection towards loved ones.
harry asks him out in the middle of a conversation, just because he loves watching how passionate draco gets about something he loves. even after weeks of dating, draco insists on courting him the "proper way", showering him with gifts, writing letters that make harry blush, leaving loving post-its all over harry's home and work desk, delivering anonymous flowers, publicly asking if he can escort harry home (they're both embarrassed). he's touchy feely too, which harry isn't used to, but physical contact becomes easy and second nature now with draco. harry doesn't quite get the courting, yet still loves it.
harry: you already have me, draco 😊😆
draco: i still want to woo you though 🥹😤
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teddybeartoji · 2 months
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office au! with coworker!gojo
he's the type to always be a little late. by a little, i of course mean a lot. he always bursts in the door with the biggest smile on his lips and four coffees in his hand. he winks at his coworkers, who then always blush and giggle out a hi, satoru! and you always roll your eyes at that. satoru nods his male coworkers, who always try to dap him up and start a conversation but he doesn't have time for that. he has things to do. (as if he isn't literally Late smh)
he answers the guys' question while he's walking – his eyes set on his favourite coworker. you. sitting in your cubicle, you're trying to ignore him and his dramatic enterance. that he does every single day. how annoying can he be? before you can roll your eyes again, a cup of coffee has landed on your table, making you glance over your shoulder.
he's blinding you, his grin is stretched so wide it's almost a bit creepy. he's standing right behind you, leaning his hand on your table right next to where he just placed the coffee. he's way too close for a co-worker and you gulp.
ugh.
"aren't you gonna thank your favourite coworker for bringing you coffee? whew, tough crowd, huh." his smile doesn't falter and he just leans in closer, his cologne clouding your senses.
UGH.
and he really does do it every single fucking day. he brings you coffee and he annoys you and he makes your eyes roll so hard you almost go blind and you hate to admit that he's kinda cute... it's whatever.
back to the coffees. so one of them is for you – he knows your order because he dug out the receipt from your bag when you weren't looking on his second day there. he almost got caught, too. but he only did that because you didn't wanna tell him your order!! and he was so insistent on bringing you coffee that he just had to find another way. he loved the way your eyes widened and how you tried to mask your surprised expression but nothing gets past his keen eyes. when you asked how he did it, he just told you that he guessed it. yeah, right....
the second coffee is for him. it's an insanely sweet latte. how do you know? he made you try it. more liked begged for you to try it. you also hate to admit that his puppy-dog eyes worked on you... he only drinks the special latte from the corner coffee shop and he refuses to drink the office "coffee". he's fancy like that.
the third coffee is for his second favourite coworker – kento nanami! they sure make an interesting pair. kento is the main reason why satoru even got the job. the latter begged him to pitch for him to the boss; he was so excited by the concept of Office Work and just had to try it out. he, of course, passed the interview with flying colors and kento regrets his decision to "help" him out in the first place. satoru yaps his ears off whenever he isn't doing the same to you and he's constantly leaving little notes for the man. you once saw one and it just had a miniature penis drawn on it. very mature.
and the fourth coffee is for your boss. satoru isn't sucking up like you originally thought he was. you think he just wants to bring her coffee? your boss is cool – she's in her forties and she has a strong voice, everybody always listens to her and she really does make for a very good boss. your guess is that satoru has a crush on her. (you're wrong. he also just thinks she's super fucking cool. literally nothing else to it.)
he's always wearing a fancy white button-up with a black tie loosely hanging around his neck and a pair of matching black slacks that hug his thighs so nicely that the women and the men of the office are always finding it hard to not stare at them. he gets an obnoxious ego boost from this.
he's constantly leaning on other people's desks, pushing his hips out and it really is hard to concentrate whenever he does it. the pose and the smug smirk he sends you when he catches you looking is making you feel hot. he always catches you too, it's so annoying. why can't he just continue doing whatever he's doing so you can admire him in peace?
he's loud, he's annoying and he's so fucking good at his job that firing him couldn't even be a passing thought. he actually does his paperwork rather fast; often finishing before you and that gives him the time to tease you for being slow. he does that way less than you expected though. only a few times in a day – enough to annoy you but never enough to actually make you upset or angry. he actually helps you sometimes. he can tell you don't wanna ask and he doesn't wanna make you feel bad - he'd rather watch you roll your pretty eyes at his stupid jokes with a small hidden smile than roll them with a deep frustrated sigh. he learned that the hard way.
he loves your smile. more often than not you can't keep the straight face you try to put up with him, making your loud laughter resonate throughout the whole office. oh, how his eyes shine at that.
long story short. he's infuriating. he's funny. he's way too good at his job. he's way too handsome. you loathe working with him and yet, you can't stop smothering him in kisses whenever you two "happen" to meet in the printer room.
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luvrxbunny · 6 months
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eddie’s the kinda guy who could get off with no material aside from your name with his last name playing in his head over and over.
after marrying you he’d jerk off to your wedding photos when you’re away and on your anniversary he’d beg you to wear the dress, he’d wear his suit and you’d fuck in your clothes.
post nut you always tell him that you’re not doing this again, that it’s too risky and you don’t wanna ruin your outfits. but every year when your anniversary comes around you find yourself anticipating and craving the sight of eddie, all dressed up in his tux, moaning your name as his hips slam into you.
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0bticeo · 2 months
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oooh but to be pinned down against the panel control by alastor during that one scene in stayed gone. maybe you're one of his contracted souls. maybe you're one of the poor souls seeking redemption. maybe you're one of his friends, if the radio demon has such a thing. maybe you're playing spy for vox. doesn't matter - you're here during his showdown with vox.
his façade drops. you take a step back, until your hip hits the control panels. there's nowhere to run. not with him looming over you. his ever-present smile stretches impossibly wide, fangs bared, hot breath fanning your skin. saliva trickles down his gaping maw. your breath hitches when it hits the tender skin of your neck, lips parting in a silent gasp.
"i'm gonna make you wish that i'd stayed gone."
his body contorts and stretches, limbs elongating until he encases you, studies you - pupils like radio dials emerging from a pool of black. he's close. too close. oh, and he's pissed.
you've never seen something as terribly beautiful as him.
his claws dig in your chin, craning up your neck just short of humanely possible until you meet his stare. he sings, still, static digging into your very bones until it steals your breath away, until it's only you and the radio demon watching you like you're his last meal. oh, and he's snarling his verse, voice dripping with venom as he goes, as you drown into him.
there's a distorted chuckle in his voice, the richness of his laughter merging with that of his audience's.
"oh, this will be fun."
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goodnight-whore · 3 months
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How am I supposed to find Beel in a suit hot
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When this is the only thing I can see
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zzztlk · 6 months
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I'm really curious what Regan's family situation is (p.s also I really love your work it makes me so happy!!!!!)
Ty! Regan is a middle class failson that comes from a family of healthcare workers and small time restauranteurs. They're generally good people who care about each other but she distances herself from them for reasons nobody really understands. It's unfortunate, but it'll probably turn out fine. At the end of day family ties are precious threads right?
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firesunflamed · 3 months
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thinking about Frank and mirror sex with an insecure partner
(nsfw, chubby fem!reader, internalized fatphobia?, degradation kink. smut with angst and a little bit of fluff and an attempt at exorcising some personal demons)
maybe he gets the idea when he sees you looking at your naked body in the mirror one day, the way you try to suck in your stomach, smooth out the curves he loves. maybe he even asks about it, and maybe you even admit to it—knowing that you’re not ugly, but you’re not beautiful, not like him. knowing that you get looks when you go out together, and the only way you can make sense of them is that people can’t believe someone who looks like him would be dating someone that looks like you.
and he hates it, because how could you think that, think about yourself like that? they’re looking at his ugly mug, not you. and maybe you smile weakly, try to change the subject, and he lets you then, already thinking about how to fix it.
and then when you have sex later that day he asks to try something different. you end up sitting on the edge of the bed, the floor length mirror moved to reflect your body, your spread legs as he plays with your clit. his face peeks over your shoulder and you’re leaning against his chest, and he’s telling you how beautiful you look, one hand holding the curve of your lower stomach. His thumb strokes the skin there and then he’s moving up to hold your waist, hand spread wide over the folds of fat above and below it. and you know this is a kindness, know he means well, know he’s trying to make you feel better. but it feels fake, feels like a lie, like he’s saying what he’s supposed to say because it’s not true, you aren’t beautiful, you know you’re not, why is he lying to you? And if he’s lying to you about this then, logically, maybe he’s lying to you about wanting you at all. maybe he’s lying about his love. maybe he’s with you because you know who he is and he’s worried about being turned into the police and maybe—
and you’re burying your head in your hands and then it’s “c’mon sweet girl, look at yourself, c’mon— fuck you’re beautiful, look at you- fuck-” and you’re shaking your head because if you open your eyes you will see nothing but every single flaw on your body, and if this is a kindness shouldn’t it feel good? but it doesn’t it doesn’t it doesn’t, and you don’t want it, and he’s asking now, softly, as his fingers move from your clit to push inside you and find your g-spot, asking you to look at how beautiful you are taking him. and there’s pleasure there, but it seems very far away, like it’s happening to someone else because he couldn’t possibly be talking to you. and he keeps asking, keeps praising, keeps using that terrible awful attempted kindness of a lie and you can feel him hard against your back but you know neither of you are going to come like this. you call yellow. he stills, slipping his fingers out of your cunt.
“What is it, sweet girl? what do you need?”
and you keep your head buried in your hands, trying not to cry, and ask if you can do something else. “I know you’re trying to be nice, but Frank, this… this isn’t making me feel better. I don’t feel that way about myself and you just insisting I should isn’t going to make me feel that way.”
It’s a long moment of silence before he says, “I’m gonna move us so we’re facing away from the mirror, yeah?”
“Okay,” you agree.
he moves his legs so they’re no longer on either side of yours before grabbing your waist and laying you down on your sides, facing each other. Your hands fall away from your face, even though your eyes stay closed, and he kissed your forehead, once, gently. “Tell me what you’re thinking about, yeah? don’t like seeing you like this.”
you take a breath, try to put your emotions into words. “I can’t— I can’t be told that you think I’m beautiful like that. It feels like a lie.”
“S’not a lie,” he says, with barely concealed fury. “You’re so fucking gorgeous sometimes I don’t even know how I got you.”
and you shake your head because he’s just making it worse and worse. “I know you think that and it’s very nice of you-" he scoffs at that description but you keep going “but I don’t feel that way. If you’re telling me that then I need it in a…. a different way. A way that doesn’t feel like it’s for me.”
it takes him another second to say, “alright sweet girl. alright.” he presses another kiss to your forehead. “you want something else right now, or do you just want this?” and you don’t want sex anymore, haven’t really wanted it since he started with the “beautiful”s, and you hesitate, because you feel bad that your insecurities mean he’s not getting to come, but you realize that he’s only half hard now. You’ve already ruined the mood.
“Just this,” you say, and you stay like that, wrapped up in each other for a long while.
he lets it go, doesn’t bring it up again. acts like he never realized your insecurities in the first place, except for how he’ll drape an arm over the largest part of your stomach instead of your waist when you cuddle, or the way he’ll sometimes grope your flat ass like it’s big enough to bother when you kiss or fuck. And you forget about the conversation altogether.
and then it’s a couple of months later, and he’s spent the last hour making you come over and over and over until you’re overstimulated, legs shaking. thoughts are hard and words are harder and all you know is that you’re his good little slut, and you take him so well. you’re trying to beg for mercy, but you think it’s coming out more as a collection of mumbled syllables that might form “please”, if one’s being generous.
“C’mon, you got one more for me, sweet girl. one more for me.”
you whine because you can’t take it you can’t take it how can you take it when you’re already this wrecked?
“shshsh… c’mon sweet girl, c’mon.” your back is to his front, the head of his cock teasing your entrance. “open your eyes. open your eyes.” you can’t you can’t you can’t— “be a good whore, and open your eyes,” he orders lowly, and you gasp and you do, finding your reflection staring back at you. it might’ve caught you off guard but you’re already so fucked out that it only just registers.
“there she is.” He pulls your leg out to the side, the mess he’s made of your folds on display. He places a finger on top of your clit, but offers no additional pressure. “Look at you. So fucking beautiful covered in my cum.”
You whine, because the barely-there touch on your clit and the brush of his cock against your entrance are cruel cruel cruel. You try moving your hips, try to sink onto him, but his hand moves from your leg to your hip, holding you in place.
“Don’t,” he warns, and you have no choice but to obey the easy power in his voice. “Wanna look at you like this. Fuck you’re gorgeous. Think I could keep you like this all the time. You want that, huh? Want me to keep you like this, ready to be fucked like a good whore whenever I want.”
You don’t even try to answer, mesmerized by the sight of your swollen pussy painted with white, his thick cock visible below.
“You’re so beautiful. Jesus Christ, sweetheart, you’re beautiful,” he says, more softly this time, and the words start to break through your fucked-out headspace. Then he’s thrusting into you, rough and deep, and any thoughts you might’ve had are lost as he hits your g-spot with each thrust, fingers busy on your clit. Your eyes slip closed, and he orders you to open them again. “Watch as I fuck you,” he says, speeding up his pace, and you’re begging, pleading, but for what you don’t know. For more, for less? It doesn’t matter. Your entire purpose has narrowed down pleasing him. “Tell me how beautiful you are taking me.”
You know he knows you lost your words a while ago. You manage a high sound of pleasure, watching his cock split you open with each thrust. “Say it,” he orders again. “Need my girl’s pretty voice in my ear when I come inside her again. ” You’re stuttering now, mumbling, trying to form the words. “Say it.”
“ ‘M so- pretty- taking your- your cock. Frank!” You eventually manage, rolling your hips, watching him disappear inside you. The sight is so erotic, you think you could come from that alone.
“Keep goin’ sweet girl, c’mon-” and his voice is lower and lower in your ear, the way it always is when he gets close.
“ ‘M beautiful- covered- in your cum-! Please please please, Frank, please-”
“Once more for me sweetheart, need it to come, need to hear you say it-”
“ ‘M beautiful- I’m - I’m - beautiful-” and the hand on your hip moves to band around your waist as he moves faster, until you are nothing but sensation, nothing but his beautiful little slut, so good for him, so good for him. “I’m- I’m- I’m-“
Still in his thrall, you come again, writhing on his cock, watching your bodies as you do. You can see the flushed skin of your cheeks and neck and chest, see the taut muscles of his thighs and arms as he fucks you. From here, you can’t see the small flaws of your body just the shapes and the colors. Then he comes with a low noise in your ear, and you keep your eyes open, watching as his face goes loose, soothed in a way you rarely see. It’s beautiful.
He rests his head against your shoulder and you sigh happily, still not quite back to yourself. He uses his grip on you to fall backwards into the mattress, tipping onto your sides as he slips out of your cunt. You both make a small sound at the loss, but you’re not back to yourself enough to ask him to stay inside you.
You stay there for a long moment, wrapped up in each other. But eventually the adrenaline starts to fade, and you realize what that last part of the scene was. Your request, from months ago.
As if he can sense that you’ve come back to yourself, he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Too much?”
“Was that for me, or for you?” you blurt, instead of an answer. The intense pleasure you had just been made to feel seems now to have returned as grief, the warning of tears thick in your voice.
It takes him a second to respond, and then he’s shifting on the mattress. “Hey. Look at me.”
Trying to blink back the tears, you roll over to face him. He’s propped up on an elbow, looking at you with such love and care and concern in his dark eyes the tears become that much harder to stop. You press the heels of your hands into your eyes. His hands reach out to wrap around your wrists, and pull them away from your face, and you give up trying to stop them.
Frank wipes the tears from your cheeks. “Was for both of us, yeah? You’re so goddamn beautiful, and I get to see it every day but you don’t. Watching us like that, together? Never would of thought of it, but it was… fuck, yeah, it was for both of us.”
And that’s an answer you can accept, can appreciate. Maybe the only one. But the tears don’t stop, and he kisses your forehead. “How ‘bout we go shower, huh? That was… I pushed you hard. Let’s go shower.”
You nod, and he pulls you towards the en-suite, warms up the water and then helps you in, stepping in afterwards before beginning to wash your skin from the mess he'd made on you. You stand there, trying to stop yourself from crying, not entirely sure where the tears came from in the first place. But when you try to stifle your quiet noises, Frank tips your chin up, forces you to look at him.
"Don't pull that. Let it out, sweet girl. Let it out." It's the same thing you say to him when he comes home from a bad night, or when the nightmares chase him out of sleep. You let yourself sob for something you can't quite put words to. Frank holds you up through it all, massaging your scalp and washing your skin, whispering sweet words in your ear.
he gets out only when your tears have finally stopped, a few minutes before you to change the sheets, then comes back to turn off the water and bundle you in a towel. he dries you off before pulling you back to the bedroom, helping you underneath the covers and turning off the light.
You're both on your sides, facing each other in the dark. You can feel him hesitate, trying to decide if he should reach for you. You move closer, burying your face in juncture between his neck and his shoulder, breathing in his scent. His arm wraps around your back and brings you closer.
"You're not lying to me." Your words are quiet, little more than a mumble against his skin.
He doesn't have to ask about what. "Haven't lied to you since I told you my name. Won't start now."
You hum. "This won't be... enough to fix it."
"Yeah, but I'm gonna keep telling you. Gonna tell you whenever you let me. As many times as you need before you stop asking, yeah?"
You sigh happily. "Frank?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you. I really, really, love you."
He kisses the top of your head. "Love you too."
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hannie-dul-set · 5 months
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could you do flirty!wonbin with an even flirtier reader for the ship dynamics pleek
[louder]. wonbin’s attraction is quiet. he doesn’t sing you praises about how your beauty shines brighter than the moon. he doesn’t whisper sweet nothings or drop pick up lines on you. “that’s boring,” he says. “there’s no fun in that,” he quarrels. but that doesn’t mean he’s unmoving when he likes someone— no. wonbin’s attraction is quiet, not nonexistent. it’s solemn, not dead. it permeates through the silence of eye contact across the room, lingering touches on your waist, nape, the top of your head, and sometimes—
“move over.”
there are two empty seats in the living room of sungchan’s condo, but wonbin decides to squeeze between you and the arm rest, knees bumping shoulders pressed against yours, and he simply graces you with a half-smile before feigning an air of unaffectedness as he scrolls through his phone, shotaro talking about something the background.
he’s scrolling through his phone but he’s not paying attention to the screen. he’s scrolling but his peripheral overtakes his vision— the way your fingers jitter when he adjusts his seating position, pressing closer. the way your throat bobs when he lets his head fall to your shoulder, scrolling and scrolling and scrolling.
“there’s an empty seat next to sohee,” you inform. 
“oh, is that so?” he replies yet refuses to move. wonbin’s attraction is quiet but he doesn’t hide it. he doesn’t tell you you’re pretty but he sure as hell gives you looks that elicit the same effect, if not more. 
the problem is— against his quiet attraction— yours is really fucking loud.
“if you keep using me as your pillow, i might end up getting the idea that you want to sleep with me, wonbin.”
the phone slips down from his hand and he nearly chokes on his own spit.
“watch your mouth,” he clicks his tongue, picking up the phone from his lap. “how inappropriate.”
you look like you’re about to laugh. wonbin forgets that loud sirens always eat up the murmurs of silence. that the fizzy bubbling of your laughter can decimate the quiet insinuations of his gazes and touches.
in other words, wonbin loses.
“ah, so you can eye-fuck me whenever you want and press against me however you like but i can’t tell you what’s on my mind? that doesn’t seem fair—” 
“stop,” he hisses, cutting you off. your voice is low but jesus christ, if one of the others overhears, you two are never hearing the end of this. “shut up. stop talking.” his ears are flushed, and you look like you’re enjoying it.
wonbin’s attraction is quiet and yours is loud. when pitted against each other, there’s a clear picture of who wins and who loses.
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akuzonprime · 3 months
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[3:07 PM] Diavolo stifles a laugh when he catches you fighting another one of the nobles.
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