↳ banner by the wonderfully talented danica ( @dnrequests)
⌁pairing; boyfriend!chan x curvy!reader (f.)
⌁genre; established relationship, pwp, fluff, smut
⌁word count; 3.2k
⌁summary; wherein which you lazily make out with your boyfriend on a rainy morning.
⌁warnings; soft dom!chan, sub!reader, soft sex, 34+35, daddy kink, slight pain kink, slight orgasm control, overstimulation, handjob, oral (m. and f. receiving), slight edging, teasing, fingering, spanking, breast/nipple play, cum play, spit play
❥ special thanks to my lovely kat ( @yeoldontknow ) for titling this and reading it over and to hani ( @amourtae ) for giving this a read too! i love ya both sm
Nearly five, the morning usually begins with Chan stumbling back from the studio. Eyes heavy, movements slow, he’d carefully crawl and tuck himself in beside you, freezing when you’d make even the slightest motion. Even when exhausted and craving nothing then the soft plush of his pillow under his head, he’d rather prolong his entry to bed if it means that you remain sleeping. He knows just how hard it is for you to fall back to sleep once you’re up. Riddled with guilt, he’d try to stay up with you, inevitably falling asleep in your arms, head tucked against your breasts and lips slightly drooling over them. Eventually, you’d fall back asleep to the quiet rhythm of his heart and melody of his snores.
This morning begins early too, nearly five. Chan isn’t stumbling in, already in bed having exhausted himself in you the night before. Your cheek was once pressed against his chest, lips slightly drooling over his warm skin. Amidst the gentle patter of the rain, you lay back on your pillow now, Chan’s arm under your neck. His lips cradle yours, tongue not too far behind. Groggy, he lazily adorns your mouth with his saliva, using the hand snaked under your head to push your hair back before half-heartedly grabbing your nearest breast. He teases your nipple between his fingers, pinching and tugging. You moan your approval and feel him smirk against your lips. If you were looking into his eyes right now, you’re sure they’d be gleaming with mischief.
Hello. Today you can donate pads to song mingi of ateez. One pad is all he needs. Please contact our email, [email protected] for more information. Make a difference. Help.
support the cause! help a needy boy contact [email protected] please!!
And for those asking, no, tampons do not work. We just need pads. Help us get our goal of 3 pads per day. [email protected]
Make a different. Choose pads. Donate to song mingi.
5 pads per day for 5 days every month for better hygiene and to lead a healthy life! for a better future! let’s get these pads
Keith had the most marriage proposals out of all the paladins, but after being universally recognized as the Galra Emperor (even if it was on accident) the proposals increase x10. Ezor won’t stop laughing and Kolivan is overprotective.
When he was with the Blade of Marmora, Keith made a point to try and steal a ship for every mission he went on. Kolivan is glad Keith went back to the paladins because he was running out of room to store them, mostly because one mission had Keith bringing back an entire Galra cruiser .
Keith: I’m back!
Kolivan[looking in exasperated horror at the imperial cruiser parked on his base]: Don’t you have a lion to fly or something?
[Keith glances between the cruiser and Kolivan]
Kolivan[3000% done]: Here, go find your mom. Be someone else’s problem for a while.
This is just a little piece of experimentation writing, I had an idea and ran with it just to try out the Vibes. I had to give them names for it to feel right, I guess we’ll see if either of them show up again in the future. I wanted to try something here, starting with the small detail and slowly widening the lens… I like how it turned out!
Contents: aftermath of torture/interrogation, mob/crime type setting, hand whump, knives, guns, blood, threats, all that juicy stuff.
It hurts like hell as his hand is lifted—the mangled broken one with its cracked bones and dislocated joints—so the pad of his thumb can be pressed to the fingerprint scanner. Of course it’s the broken one that Blake uses, not the one that’s chained to the table leg.
Gil grits his teeth through every tiny shift, air whistles past his teeth as he hisses, almost a whine. And then he breathes, swallows, gets air into his lungs just in time to be able to gasp as his hand is laid back down on the surface of the table and the pain spikes all over again. There’s a gentle clunk in front of him and he opens his eyes to see his phone shining up at him.
“Now the passcode.”
He looks up, licks his lips. The handcuff rattles as he tries to raise his right hand. Blake holds his gaze, waiting perched on the edge of the table.
“The passcode.”
They’d asked for it before, but that was hours ago. Hours before the pain he’s in now. Long before he’d reached the point of caving in, willing to do this—to make it stop.
“Y-yeah, give me… yeah.” His voice is hoarse. He’s out of options, or at least out of options that don’t involve more pain.
