two hug day

While I Was Clearing Out My Desktop, I Found This Gem

It Still Remains as One of My Life Goals: Find Someone Who Will Hug Me the Same Way Oscar Hugged Evan

Voltron shipping in a nutshell

Klance: Brings the opposites attract and the love/hate dynamic to its limits, MUTUAL PINING

Sheith: ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST AN

Hance: Bros before hoes 一OH WAIT THERES NO DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE TWO, hugs all day

Shallura: space power couple, has like 4 kids to feed, “conquered the universe last tuesday now what’s next”

Shidge: cuddly, tol n smol dynamic, mostly a family kind of dynamic, pidge is somehow always riding on Shiro’s shoulders

Heith: a lot of hugging and crying, but also A LOT of mutual support. Anything involving Hunk is sweet and precious :)))

keidge/kidge: THEORY!!! CONFIRMED!!!!! EXPOSED!!!!! basically the alien couple, probably has 10 drawing boards in their room

Shance: the dad jokes duo, a lot of saving each other’s ass 24/7, suprisingly compatible, looks like a pure wholesome ship but actually have 20000 kinks

Lancelot: Romeo & Juliet. its a crackship but hey!! it works!! usually involving a kidnapped Lance

edit: there’s shance now

Preparing for cold winters by always staying warm  ♡

7

The Dork Captains | Kuroo & Bokuto |
 - Happy Valentine’s day to my cute @sexuallyfrustratedjellal
from your secret valentine 
♥ ⃛ヾ(๑❛ ▿ ◠๑ )

  • *221B*
  • Sherlock: *thoughtful* I love-
  • Rosamund: Molly?
  • Sherlock: No, I need-
  • Rosamund: Molly?
  • Sherlock: *frowns* No, I want-
  • Rosamund: *nods* Molly.
  • Sherlock: ...
  • Sherlock: *hugs his knees; pouts* Whatever. I miss Molly.
  • Rosamund: *rolls her eyes* It's only for the weekend.
  • Sherlock: *sulking* But why did she have to go with him?
  • Rosamund: *shrugs* They're just friends.
  • Sherlock: *bitter* You should have seen him. Drooling all over her.
  • Rosamund: *sighs* Men *gets up; walks into Sherlock's bedroom*
  • Sherlock: *looks up* What are you doing?
  • -a few minutes later-
  • Rosamund: *skips back in; on the phone* I know you're busy, Aunt Molly, and I'm sorry to interrupt but Uncle Sherlock has something important to tell you *holds out the phone*
  • Sherlock: *eyes wide; shakes his head*
  • Rosamund: *frowns* Or you could put this on speakerphone and I'll do it.
  • Sherlock: *snatches the phone; swallows* Hi, Molly. How's it going?
  • Molly: *exasperated* Actually, Sherlock, I'm in the middle of a lecture. Rosie said it was important so...
  • Sherlock: *coughs* Right. I...um, I miss you.
  • Molly: ...
  • Molly: That's the important thing you wanted to tell me?
  • Sherlock: *sweating* Well, yes, that and...I...I love you.
  • Molly: ...
  • Molly: ...
  • Molly: *giggles* I love you too.
  • -a chorus of 'awww's can be heard in the background-
  • Molly: *to her class* Oh, be quiet, you lot.

grip

Hug 3.0

Hug 1.0 Hug 2.0

When everything was done, Kate dead and Peter dead, Derek found himself in Stiles bedroom again. Stiles wasn’t there, he was off to see Lydia in the hospital, and Derek slid to the ground directly after he entered through the window.

Something about this room made him feel safe almost and Derek was too exhausted to care right now why that might be.

He just spent a few days held captive and tortured by the woman who used him and who burned his whole family, he got shot three times and had to kill his last remaining family member. He deserved a break.

Which was of course exactly the reason why he heard Stiles running up the stairs now.

Derek could have made it out before Stiles entered his room, but he was too tired to even lift his head where he had it bowed down and covered with his arms. Stiles would have to deal.

“The fuck!” Stiles exclaimed when he entered and it sounded like he crashed against the door.

“What now? What could you possibly want now? You are the freaking alpha like you wanted, what more do you need?” Stiles asked him and Derek took a shuddering breath.

He was never meant to be the alpha.

“Derek!” Stiles shouted when Derek didn’t answer him and that spurred him into action.

He shot up from his crouched position on the floor and was in Stiles face an instant later.

“What?” he growled and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, nice try, but lemme tell you, your uncle was way more menacing. He had the voice and everything.”

“What,” Derek said and felt himself go cold.

Peter had threatened Stiles. Stiles could be dead like Laura right now.

“He couldn’t find you so he came to me. Because apparently, I am the clever one. Of course only the psychotic killer would realize how useful I can be. By the way, nice work getting caught by the freaking Argents. What were you thinking there, huh?”

“Did he hurt you,” Derek growled and Stiles actually laughed in his face.

“To be honest, he was the most polite out of all of you. Just a little bit of threatening, a little offer of the bite, all about consent. The same cannot be said for you, you know?” Stiles said and punched his shoulder.

“He offered you the bite.”

“Is that supposed to be a question? Cause if so, you’re missing a bit of inflection there.”

“Stiles,” Derek flashed his fangs at him and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, you’re real scary big guy. What do you want? See what I did there, by the way? I made that a question. You should learn that too.”

He pushed Derek away and suddenly all the fight and adrenaline left Derek.

“I killed him,” he whispered and then he gagged when he caught a whiff of Kate’s perfume mingled with burned human flesh. It was like that night all over again.

“I know. I was there, remember?”

“I killed…I had…she was…” Derek stuttered and started to shake all over.

Kate had captured him. She had held him captive and tortured him, she licked him, and Derek was about to throw up when Stiles hand landed on his shoulder.

“Shit, Derek, are you okay?”

“She touched me,” he managed to get out and then he was retching into Stiles waste bin.

“Okay, okay, you get it out,” Stiles murmured.

He followed Derek, and stroked a hand up and down his back. He stayed quiet for a few minutes, before he spoke up again.

“When you say she touched you, do you mean in a bad touch way?” Stiles carefully asked and Derek heaved again.

“Okay, I guess that answers that,” he muttered as Derek sat next to the bin.

Derek’s skin crawled all over, he could still feel her tongue on him and he felt filthy.

“Can I…shower?” he asked and Stiles raised an eyebrow at him.

“A question. You’re a quick learner. I’ll get you something to change. See if I can find a shirt that might actually fit you,” he added with a little chuckle.

Derek didn’t react to that and instead stumbled out of the room to get to the shower as quickly as possible.

He was nearly burning himself under the spray, but it still wasn’t enough to get rid of the feeling of her on his skin.

Stiles entered the bathroom at some point to lay out the clothes he got for him and then Derek was viciously scrubbing at his skin.

“Dude, are you okay in there?” Stiles asked after some time. “You’ve been in there a really long time.”

Derek didn’t react, but he did shut off the water and then stood there for a second, just staring blankly at nothing before he dragged himself out of the shower.

Stiles clothes were a bit tight but they did fit him and when he came back to his bedroom Stiles was running up and down.

“I have a million questions and only half of them are about Kate but first you’re getting your hug,” he declared and this time it was Derek who initiated it.

The moment the sentence left Stiles mouth he was already there, throwing his arms around Stiles and burying his face in his neck again. Stiles didn’t smell like Kate, or like burned flesh. All Derek could smell was Stiles.

“You’re okay now, you’re safe,” Stiles promised him and held him tight against him.

Derek was unwilling to let go of Stiles anytime soon and Stiles seemed to realize that after a few minutes.

“Alright, you know what, I’m just human, and I’m tired of standing,” he started and Derek let out a low whine while he started to pull away from Stiles only to be stopped when Stiles tightened his arms around him.

“Not what I meant, man. Let’s just, you know, lie down,” he said and gently steered Derek towards the bed.

They almost managed it without letting go of each other and soon enough they were lying side by side, Derek’s face still mashed into Stiles’ neck and half draped over him.

“It’s okay,” Stiles repeated every now and then and scratched the back of Derek’s neck. “You’re still going to answer all my questions but you can sleep first.”

Derek suddenly realized how sleepy he already was and it didn’t take more than a few minutes for him to drift off.

When he woke up again, he was still pressed against Stiles, who was asleep as well.

Derek took a few more seconds to enjoy the warmth and the hand still buried in his hair, before he gently extricated himself.

“Questions,” Stiles mumbled and blinked up at him.

“Sleep, Stiles,” Derek whispered back.

“Asshole,” Stiles replied right before he fell back asleep.

Derek wasn’t sure he could answer all of Stiles’ questions without freaking out again, but right now he felt settled enough.

He really wondered why it was that Stiles could do that to him.

Hug 4.0

PART 1

2/18 Happy Miyusawa Day! ( ღ’ᴗ’ღ ) 

As promised, here’s the second part of the Figure Skating AU comic! I’m posting it now because tomorrow I sadly wouldn’t be available almost all day // cries 

Sawamura forced Miyuki to go skating on the frozen lake they saw from their hotel room’s window

This is the Miyuki-centric part 

I hope you enjoy this! 

Keep reading

gimme some sugar → peter parker

♬ fetish — selena gomez ft. gucci mane ♬

❈ the way you walk, the way you talk. i blame you ‘cause it’s all your fault. ❈

REQUESTS
↳ Could you do a peter parker imagine where they’re dating and she’s always checking him out and calling him hot and stuff, only because she thinks it’s cute when he gets flustered?
↳ Peter imagine where he gets jealous because he thinks flash is trying to flirt w (yn)?
↳ kissey!peter parker please?

warning(s): makeout.

“hey baby boy,” (y/n) greeted, kissing peter’s cheek after she approached the usual table. peter’s cheeks grew warm as he mumbled a ‘hey’ back. ned pushed his cheek out jokingly, causing (y/n) to laugh as she walked around the table to hug him. “what’s up ned? how are you?”

“i’m doing okay, actually. i passed my history test today. most nerve-wracking moment of my life.” the two got lost in their conversation while peter tried to wrap up his homework.

“hey, (y/n),” flash grinned with his teeth showing. he leaned against the table as he began to talk to her about the project due in mr. laritate’s class. he got too close for peter’s liking, causing his to huff.

“first off, number two is wrong.” michelle spoke up from beside peter. “second, you’re gonna have to try a little bit harder than that to hide your jealousy.”

“what? i’m not jealous.” peter defended as he looked over his math work.

“you forgot to carry out the two,” she pointed at his paper. peter began frantically erasing the rest of his work, knowing that if he forgot to carry, the whole product was messed up. “and, you totally are. you may have a baby face, but your baby face can get pretty mean-looking.”

out of subconscious, peter glanced up to find flash laughing with (y/n), causing him to glare. from the corner of her eye, should could see peter facing their direction and averted all of her attention on her boyfriend. she didn’t say much. she didn’t say anything, actually. she only stared at him with so much adoration.

“(y/n),” flash tried to snap her out of her daze. the couple shared eye contact, something only they could understand. “(y/n)…” flash waved his hand in her face.

“flash, let me get back to you in a second.” she smiled politely. “i’ll see you in english?” she dismissed him so quick, leaving him a stuttering mess as he tried to protest, but she had already shoo’d him away. peter mentally laughed at flash.

“what’s wrong pete?” (y/n) asked with concern lacing her voice. she reached over the table grabbing his hand.

“what were you talking about with flash?” he made it obvious he was jealous.

(y/n) giggled. “only about how you look like a snack.” she flirted.

“i- what?” his cheeks flushed. he had heard the word being thrown around by the upperclassmen. which made sense since (y/n) was a junior.

“yeah,” she smiled. she tugged his collar from under his sweater, patting his chest. “you look really hot. i could eat you up, hence why you look like a snack.”

“flash…talked to you…about how i, look good?” it took some time for peter to process the information.

“of course,” (y/n) nodded her head. “flash has made it no secret that he’s bi-curious. come on, babe, keep up.”

3 o'clock rolled around. it was part of (y/n) and peter’s schedule to leave the library around 3, so they could get sandwiches after school.

the two walked side by side on the football field, fingers laced together as they talked about their plans for the weekend. peter noticed (y/n) was being less touchy than she usually was. it kind of threw him off guard, but he didn’t question it.

walking into mr. delmar’s deli shop, he greeted the regular customers with a wide smile. “peter, (y/n)! what will it be today? the usual?” the two chuckled at the knowing man with a nod.

“number five with pickle, smushed down, okay. and also a number two with spicy salami and provolone cheese.” he wrote it down on the ticket, hanging it over the rack for the workers in the back to get out. (y/n) swiped her card before peter could whip out his wallet.

“we’ll call out your order when it’s ready.”

“thank you mr. delmar.” (y/n) smiled at the italian man.

“(y/n),” peter spoke with a frown.

“you paid yesterday.” (y/n) defended as they walked passed mr. delmar’s cat.

after finishing their sandwiches (peter did, (y/n) barely touched her food), they headed up the block to (y/n)’s place. they didn’t talk much on their way. they walked in comfortable silence with a few comments here and there.

(y/n) was lucky to catch her mother at door.

“ma!” (y/n) hugged her mother as her mom kissed hers and peter’s forehead.

“hey, you two!” she smiled at the two. “listen, i’m in a rush. taxi’s waiting for me, but (y/n), i left money on the counter for takeout. knock yourselves out. have a great night. i know there’s no school tomorrow, but i expect you two to go to bed at a reasonable time tonight, okay?” she pointed her finger at the two.

“alright ma, i promise.”

“we’ll take good care of the house janice,” peter smiled innocently. god, he was too pure for his own good. “you can trust us.”

“you, i trust. my daughter, not so much,” janice joked. the taxi honked once, making janice give the two hugs.

“have a great day at work ma, i’ll see you tomorrow.”

(y/n) stepped into the apartment with peter, shutting the door behind her.

“what’s your deal today?” peter questioned with a frown, pulling his girlfriend in his arms, now that they were behind closed doors. he pressed a kiss to her cheek. “you barely ate your sandwich today, you zone out.”

“i’m okay,” she told peter. he was so concerned for her.

“you’re weren’t yourself today, so i’m not entirely sure about that.” peter looked down at (y/n) whom was only a few inches shorter than he was. “you love mr. delmar’s sandwiches, you’re always hungry. what happened today?”

“i wasn’t hungry for sandwiches, i guess.” she shrugged her shoulders.

“why didn’t you tell me? here, what are you hungry for?” he started putting his shoes on again.

“no, pete, it’s okay.” (y/n) halted him before he could tie is converse. “i’m sure i’ll find a good snack here.” her eyes glinted with mischievousness. but he didn’t seem to catch it.

“saltines and nutella, you said you liked that, right?” peter stood to wander in her kitchen and rummage through her cupboards. she remained where she was for a moment, eyes shut as she asked the gods for patience.

before she could actually tell peter no, peter was already spreading nutella on a cracker with a butterknife. smiling to herself, (y/n) waltzed next to peter, leaning her head on his back, wrapping her arms around his torso.

peter turned in her arms, feeding her the cracker, hoping it’d lift her mood at least a little bit. she nodded her head as she munched on the sweet-salty mix that she loved so much. peter ate one himself, nodding his head at the combination. he approved.

“babe,” (y/n) chuckled. “you’ve got nutella on your lips. come'ere,” she grabbed his cheeks, lightly pressing her lips against his, pecking his lips multiple times.

she could taste the sweetness of his lips. the rich, chocolate-hazelnut cream only made her desire for him grow like a persian silk tree. (y/n) let out a noise of delight slip her throat as she kissed him. peter was enjoying this just as much, her lips were so soft and gentle.

peter leaned against the counter with one arm around her waist. his free hand cupping her jaw so delicately, he didn’t want to even think about hurting her as he kissed her with so much passion. her hands tightly gripped the collar of his shirt as she stood on the tip of her toes, kissing back with just as much fiery ardor.

(y/n) was the first to pull back. with her forehead pressed against peter’s, eyes shut, she desperately tried to catch her breath.

“d-do you think you should finish your snack or?..” peter jutted his thumb behind him.

“nah, i’m looking at a perfect snack right now.” her eyes were glued to peter’s, grinning at the audible gasp that escaped his mouth.

Surrogate Father ✷ Lee Taemin

Genre: Smut

Warning: graphic sex (no duh), adoptive father/daughter, big age gap, daddy kink, jealous taemin, just overall really bad for pure souls

⁜⁜⁜

You were the best happening in Taemin’s life, that he couldn’t deny, yet your arrival in it was due to one of the worst experiences.

At twenty-two and engaged to his girlfriend of eight years, he was devastated to hear from the doctors that their couple could never conceive. He didn’t want to know who was «responsible» for that, as blaming them would be inhumane. He just cried and held his fiancée and found another way to have the child they so desperately sought to love.

They called orphanages, talked for months on end, signed encyclopaedias worth of paperwork. The adoption mechanisms were slow and rusted, but a year later, they got news. A child who could be theirs. Not one of their choosing, of course not — that would be perverse and lead to destructive complaints of «I should’ve picked someone else». Like nature, the process was random.

Finally, after an arduous year and a half of struggle, he welcomed you in his household. Your home.

The beginnings stumbled and stammered. You were seven, spoke hardly any Korean, and had a mind warped by your growth among other lost children and shifting workers who weren’t truly parents. His girlfriend studied and worked around the clock, smiling at you as hello and goodbye, but Taemin dedicated himself to you.

He taught you the social skills an orphanage couldn’t provide. How to talk and speak up for yourself, how to shake a hand and pack a punch, how to introduce yourself politely and say farewell forever. You learned how to love him the fastest.

You mispronounced his name as Teenim and he giggled, correcting you only to hear you make the mistake again. It became your personal nickname for him even long after you spoke Korean like you were born with it.

He cooked while you sat on the counter and let you taste the food at different stages of preparation. You loved the tepid rice but hated the raw beef.

You enrolled into a school and after the first day you called Taemin Oppa. He ruffled your hair and told you he wasn’t your brother, but your daddy. You repeated the word, paraded and cherished it like a treasure.

The seams of your world appeared the month following your third anniversary of adoption. Taemin’s girlfriend announced she’d had enough of over-stressing herself and of him being more with his «fake daughter» than his «real fiancée». She threw the ring at him and packed her bags.

Taemin sobbed for two days, hugging you and nestling his forehead on your shoulder, but you didn’t notice her absence. You had your daddy and nothing mattered.

He buried himself in a myriad of part-time jobs, and you progressively became a discarded gimmick, a pet whose owners lost interest in. You befriended some children but never quite entertained those relationships enough to last.

You were twelve and an orphan once again.

Taemin patted your head when he walked by you in the hallway, no more kisses or hugs or words. He stopped teaching you about life and telling you stories at all time of the day and wandering around town with you. Your family life was a dream in arrested development.

Your world finished crumbling down when your biological parents — you loathed to call them real parents — wanted you back. They said they regretted giving you up and could take care of you, now, and the law was on their side.

Taemin’s eyes were bloodshot and lacklustre, his mouth unable to form all the apologies he wanted to tell you. How guilty and sorry he was. He held you against his heart like the first day, and when he stood away you tried to pull him back to you. Your arms hung from his shoulders as he adjusted the bow of the dress he gifted you for Christmas.

Heart and luggage heavy, you were brought to what they called your home country — but how could it be your home if you knew nothing of it? You couldn’t pronounce its sounds or understand its phrases. It wasn’t home: it was foreign, strange, unwelcoming.

You were eighteen and still dreamt in Korean. All your thoughts existed in the dialect Taemin taught you, even if you hadn’t spoken a word of it in years. Every day, you reiterated his address, his name, the details of his face, the touch of his hands. The woman who gave birth to you never was «mom» and no one grew to be more than an acquaintance.

For your nineteenth birthday, you saved money for a plane ticket and flew to South Korea. A homecoming, a true one, for once. You wore the dress of your last day with your daddy and carried little more than the bare minimum.

You strode to his house, the path memorised in your legs’ natural movements, familiar and comforting. Coming up to the grey house, you straightened your skirt and rang the bell, a din you didn’t recognise. Your eyes widened.

A man unlike your daddy threw the door agape, extended arm reaching for something you didn’t have.

“Yay, sush —” he cut his exclamation short, “Wait, you’re not the delivery man. Who are you?”

He gave your body a once-over, your unusual complexion and foreign facial structure, brow raising like you were a tourist who definitely should not be at his doorstep.

“I’m Y/N.” Your Korean sounded wobbly even to your ears, and you winced somewhat. “I’m looking for Taemin, he lived here.”

The man grinned, slung an arm over your shoulders and dragged you in. You shimmied along, discomfited, wondering if there wasn’t any danger in letting a stranger bring you in his house.

“So how’d a pretty girl like you know Taemin? You’re honestly too good for him.” The man asked, shameless in his attempt at hitting on you.

You compared him to your daddy. Black hair, wider face, slightly bigger nose, thinner lips, but overall still attractive, although not by your standards.

“He’s —” you hesitated, unsure what the least misleading appellation would be, “my daddy. I mean, like —”

“No, that’s not possible. He fucking hates being called daddy. And he hasn’t hooked up with anyone in forever.” He nudged you closer to his face. “But me, if you want, I’m always availa —”

Clacks of nails on a doorframe interrupted him. Then an icy voice, laced with boredom and arsenic.

“Minho, I thought we’d agreed you wouldn’t fuck your girls in my house.”

It shrilled, a warped version of Taemin’s harmonious chime, but definitely his. You shoved the stranger’s arm off and ran to your daddy, a wide smile spreading from ear to ear.

“Teenim! I’m so happy to see you!”

You engulfed him in a tight embrace, like he was air you needed to live, while he stayed petrified. No one used that nickname, not since — not unless…

He scoped your form up, the dress you’d begged him to buy, the locks he’d combed and braided hundreds of times, the face he peppered in butterfly kisses.

“Y/N?” The name stunned him more than his, but his eyes brightened and his hands slowly rose to cup your cheeks. “Oh my God, Y/N, it’s you… Thank you.” His lips pressed on your forehead. “Thank you for remembering me.” On your cheeks. “Thank you for finding me.” On your nose. “Thank you for returning to me.”

He ghosted a second over the last part of your face, then leant back, ruddying up.

“I missed you.” You nuzzled into the crook of his neck, tickling the skin.

“I missed you too, princess.” His chin rested atop your head, his eyes closing as he stroked your hair. He missed that, too. “I tried to find you and get you back, but they wouldn’t let me. They wouldn’t tell me anything. They said I couldn’t because I wasn’t your real father and didn’t have any rights over you.”

You pecked a tendon accessible to you, feeling him shiver.

“They’re wrong. You’re my daddy, I don’t care about the others.”

A cold finger poked deep into your flesh.

“Hey!” You jumped back to see Minho, staring quizzically at you two.

“Your moment’s really nice, but who exactly is she? Like, what’s this story of daddy and real father?”

Taemin’s hands clasped over your waist and he placed you in front of him, mirroring your introduction on the first day of school.

“Y/N,” he sounded proud, with a hint of something stronger, different and insidious, “is my daughter. I adopted her twelve years ago, but her biological parents took her back four years ago.”

Minho stuck out his tongue in disgust.

“God, that’s awful. Poor kid. Poor you.” He looked down to you. “But wow, you should’ve told me you had a daughter that hot. Is she off limits, or?”

An abashed blush hurt your cheeks. Taemin wrapped around you, pulling you into his protection.

“Y/N is my princess.”

Minho lifted his hands in surrender, a lopsided smile swaying his lips.

“Okay, all right, got it. I’ll just go girl-hunting somewhere else.”

He strolled out, picking his jacket up on the way, waving you goodbye as he shut the door. You blinked a few times, convinced you’d hallucinated the man, then glanced at your daddy. You loved the shape of his features now more than ever, especially the way his hooded eyes stared you down.

“Daddy? How are you?”

He stepped closer, his linked arms a trap you willingly got yourself into.

“Princess, I’ve been thinking about you every single minute.” His falling bangs titillated the tip of your nose. “But what are you thinking of Minho?”

The question cut you short of opinions. You cared about Taemin, nothing but Taemin, why would Minho be involved? Instinctively, you averted your eyes and your cheeks heated up with a middle schooler’s shame. Taemin constricted you, leer narrowing to a slit, a hand snaking to your butt.

“My little princess is all grown up… and she likes another man.” He licked his lips and bit on the lower. “I shouldn’t care so much. I shouldn’t do this.”

“Daddy… I care too, I want to do this.”

You closed any gap between your bodies, your bosom crammed into a valorising cleavage against his chest, grinding slowly on his thigh.

“Princess,” he hissed, stifling a groan, “you shouldn’t tempt me like that.”

You kept rocking your hips against him, his hardening member poking your belly. He gave in and squeezed your ass — once you moaned, twice you mewled, thrice you whimpered. Your movement paced faster the more he slapped your butt, skirt inching up with every slide over his thigh. His hand grabbed your right leg, kneaded the soft flesh then hoisted it over his hip. You jumped, wrapping completely around his waist, and he slammed you to the wall to maintain you up.

“Ah! Taemin, daddy, ah… ah…”

You gasped loudly as his free hand groped one breast through the fabric, pressing and pushing it, grazing his fingers over the bud of your nipple. Taemin licked down your neck, seeking the perfect spots to abuse and suck on, his plump lips lighting your nerves on fire, hickeys in their wake. You tangled your fingers in his silky hair and guided his head along the neckline of your dress, down to the dip of your chest.

He took the elastic between his teeth then let go, jolting you with the pain. You groaned and bucked against his erect shaft. He countered with a growl and a pinch of your nipple, the pleasure sending your head back. You hit the wall, a dull throbbing spreading through, but all you felt was Taemin bruising your breast.

No one had ever touched you for more than a hug, these new sensations overwhelmed you, but it was your daddy and you longed for more. More of it, more of him, more, more, more.

You attached a hand to your neglected breast, rubbing circles into it up to the jutting nipple. Taemin removed your own fingers, harsh and chafing your mound, then thumbed its top over and over until you cried out. The pleasure wracked you.

“Ah, ah… Daddy, please —”

He parted your bodies and unbuckled his belt, discarding it with a rattle. You went to lower his pants and underwear, careful to the extreme, making him groan as you grazed the skin down from his belly button to the inside of his thighs. His cock smacked your own leg as it was freed, and you couldn’t help but stare. You gulped down, a stir in your loins and knot in your guts.

Taemin leant back against you and whispered for you to touch him. Your hands wrapped around the base of his member, earning a moan and a bop of his Adam’s apple as you titillated his ballsack then stroked up his length, your thumbs popping his end as if to get something out of it. He thrusted into your hands harshly, and you picked up speed. Your fingers ran up and down, tightly squeezing him, his veins engorged and pulsing under your touch.

He heaved out when pre-cum seeped out and you spread it all over his dick, making him as wet as your own core. With a bit more friction, he came into your balled hands. You brought your fingers to your mouth, sucking them clean and lapping off what you couldn’t reach otherwise. Taemin fisted your hair and jerked your head back.

“Ah, my perfect princess… You did so well, I need to reward you…”

He slid up your dress, completely exposing you, and hooked your panties to leave your folds bare. Drenched, by and for him. A smirk on his lips, he circled your clit and pressed it like you’d done to him. Rubbing it, thumbing it, kneading the area and sending high voltage coursing within your system. You moaned out, bringing your hands over his shoulder blades.

He secured a hand on your waist and the other beneath your ass, pinioning you into position. Your breath hitched with expectation. He shifted between your legs, prodding your excited clit — then rammed into you. You scathed his back with long trails from your nails, shouting out his name.

“Taemin! Ah! Daddy, daddy, ah, Taemin!”

Your scream silenced as he hit you again, in a sensitive spot that flamed up your core. Shutting your eyes, legs tightening around his waist, you let him thrust into you however he pleased. Your walls stretched, your muscles tensed, your bones cracked, your guts knotted up in an assemblage of electricity and fire. Your throat scalded from the repetitive noises you couldn’t stop.

He gave you too much, hit you too hard. His thrusts crashed upward and gravity pulled you downward and you floated between the two in pure paradise. The ecstasy washed over you like a tsunami, destroying every other sensation — the ache in your back, the burn in your womb.

Taemin progressed down, holding you as you bounced slower on him, until you came to a full stop. You stumbled off him, barely keeping yourself up, and he clutched you against his body.

“Princess, do you need to clean up? Or rest?”

“B — Both.” You choked out weakly.

“Of course, Y/N. Let me help you there.”

He smiled at you and you smiled back.

He was rough and caring and you didn’t want any more and you couldn’t ask for any better.

Rafael Barba / Threats (Part Two)

Here is the conclusion to Threats! I really had fun writing this story, and I hope everyone enjoyed it! If anyone has any requests, please drop an ask or a message. I’m way more free since classes are over now. Please enjoy!

Here’s Part One if you missed it! 

Originally posted by seekret-fanfic

Keep reading