#His ego is one of his charm points for sure

[callsigns-haze]

Little life

Summary: Jake "Hangman" Seresin has always been the centre of attention, but behind the cocky aviator façade, he cherishes quiet nights at home with his pregnant wife, Y/N, as they navigate love, routine, and a life the squad knows nothing about.

Warning: This fic contains fluff, pregnancy themes, and light teasing romance.

Word count: 1068 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x reader

English is not my first language so I apologies for mistakes

Part 2 Part 3

Jake Seresin was a man who always seemed to attract attention. With his easy charm and cocky grin, women flocked to him the moment they laid eyes on him. It happened every time—at the bar, after missions, during social events. The second a woman saw him, they’d saunter over, usually with a flirtatious smile, batting their lashes, asking him to buy them a drink.

And every time, without fail, Jake turned them down.

It confused the entire Dagger squad. They’d tease him relentlessly about it, nudging him with raised brows and playful smirks, wondering why someone like him—someone who had the looks, the swagger, the perfect call sign—never took the bait. They couldn’t figure him out. To them, Jake seemed like the type to indulge in a little fun, to soak up the attention and enjoy the benefits of being the golden boy.

But Jake wasn’t interested.

Not anymore.

Because the truth was, when Jake wasn’t flying missions or teasing his teammates, he was at home in Texas, living a life no one suspected. He had a routine, a life outside of the cocky, brash aviator persona he wore like a second skin.

That life began with you.

You sat at your desk, soft lighting casting a warm glow over your latest manuscript. The smell of ink and freshly brewed tea hung in the air, and the quiet hum of a summer night filtered through the open window. You were three months pregnant now, the couple married for a month now, and the bump had just started to show beneath your oversized sweater, a fact Jake never missed when he was home.

He sat nearby, like always, in his favourite armchair. His legs stretched out casually, one arm slung over the back, while the other held a half-empty glass of whiskey. His eyes weren’t on the drink, though—they were on you, as they always were.

You highlighted another line in your manuscript, frowning a little as you moved the neon marker across the page. The ruler in your hand—one you used to make sure your lines were perfectly straight—had gotten a little too stained with colour, and without thinking, you reached out and wiped the edge of the ruler off on Jake’s hand.

He chuckled, low and warm, shaking his head in amusement. “You know, sweetheart, there are other ways to clean that thing. Ever heard of tissues?”

You glanced at him, giving a half-smile as you continued working. “Maybe. But I prefer you.”

That made him grin wider. “Lucky me, then.”

It had become a sort of routine for the two of you, especially now that you were pregnant and he was often gone on missions. When he was home, though, there was no place Jake would rather be than right here, with you, basking in the quiet moments. To anyone else, he was “Hangman”—the sharp-tongued aviator with an ego the size of Texas itself. But with you, he was just Jake, the man who found peace in the most mundane of moments.

He loved watching you work. The way your brow would furrow in concentration, how you’d absentmindedly tuck your hair behind your ear, or bite your lip when you were thinking through a tricky plot point. Jake would tease you for your little quirks, leaning over to plant a quick kiss on the top of your head when he couldn’t resist anymore.

“Need any help there, author of mine?” he’d ask, his voice teasing but soft.

You’d roll your eyes in response, but your smile always gave you away. “I think I’ve got it covered, flyboy.”

Jake would laugh and go back to his drink, but you knew he liked being part of your world like this. When you’d first met, you had been a rising star in the literary world, already on your way to becoming a bestselling author. You were about to turn 20 in a couple weeks just before you wandered into 27 year old Jakes life. Jake never made a big deal about it, though he’d brag quietly to himself every time he saw one of your books displayed in airport bookstores. No one in the squad had any idea who you were, much less that you and Jake were married. And he liked it that way. He liked keeping this part of his life private, away from the chaos of the outside world.

With you, everything was simpler. Real.

Jake loved you in ways no one ever saw. He loved you in the stolen kisses between your sentences, in the lazy mornings in bed when you pressed your nose against his chest, in the quiet I love you’s whispered as he pulled you close late at night. You were his world—everything else was just noise.

As you finished another page, you sighed softly, stretching your arms above your head. Jake’s gaze was on you in an instant, taking in the slight curve of your stomach, his eyes filled with warmth and pride. He got up from his chair and moved behind you, his large hands coming to rest on your shoulders, gently kneading away the tension that had built up from hours of working.

“Time to take a break, darlin’,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple.

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes for a moment. “Just a little longer. I’m almost done.”

Jake let out a soft laugh, low and teasing. “That’s what you said an hour ago.”

You smiled, but your body relaxed under his hands. You couldn’t deny that the warmth of his touch and the quiet affection in his voice had a way of making you forget the world for a while.

“Alright, alright,” you relented, setting your highlighter down. “But only because you’re so persuasive.”

Jake grinned, pressing a kiss to your neck before straightening up. He turned your chair around so you were facing him, his hands on either side of the armrests, caging you in. His eyes sparkled with that mischievous glint he always had when he was about to say something that would make your heart race.

“Darlin’, I don’t need to be persuasive,” he drawled, his Southern accent thick and smooth. “I’m your favourite distraction, remember?”

You laughed, shaking your head as he leaned in closer. “You’re impossible, Jake.”

“And you love me for it,” he said, his lips brushing against yours before kissing you softly, his hand resting on your belly, feeling the life growing inside you.

And he was right, even though he was nearly seven years older—you did love him for it.

I may or may not have made this into a mini series so let me know if you'd like to be tagged

Part 2 Part 3

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞.

Synopsis: What I think Alastors wife would be like, if he had one of course.

Warnings: mentions of blood, pinning, harassment?, Alastor being himself, not in a specific time period but at some point shifts to hell? Let me know if anyone is interested in a part two!!

Navigation!! // Masterlist!! // Serendipity Writes (event)

Alastors wife probably didnt like him at first, and that’s a guarantee. He likes a challenge, but Alastor also likes being liked by people. It fills his ego, makes him feel good about himself. He likes to watch people stumble and fall but quite literally cracks under the pressure of doing just that when it comes to winning you over. Chances were he was constantly trying to figure you out, for two reasons. One, being that he didn’t understand how you couldn’t like him. I mean come on, look at him! He’s got the charm, the manners, the style and the class, the status. What more could you want? The second reason being, the more you denied him, the more he took it as a challenge, the more he wanted you.

Well, surprise surprise, you dont like people with an image to keep up; and to his dismay, that’s exactly what he does. He projects an image. One he refuses to change, and even after marrying you, still doesn’t drop the image, but starts to become more real and honest with himself.

“People who project an image of themselves to others are just trying to fool themselves into being someone they aren’t.” Was what you told him.

Alastor had also asked you out multiple times before you finally said yes. Everyone knows Alastor is very picky with the people he chooses to surround himself with. Everyone he associates with is either there to serve him, or to provide him with something, even if they’re unaware of it. Which only made you trust him less. What purpose did you serve him? What if one day he found you no longer useful and tossed you to the side? Well what were you to do then?

Denying him proved to be a challenge in itself, seeing that he’s quite literally everywhere all at once.

He’d try cheap tricks first. Buying you gifts, constantly showing up at your doorstep with a bouquet of flowers or a stuffed animal. One time he even got you a whole gift basket of your favorite treats. How sweet~ if it was actually about you and not him just trying to patch up his ego. Well at least that was what you thought on the matter.

If that didnt work he’d resort to going ghost. After all, people only miss you when you’re gone right? Well not in this case. He had left you alone physically, at least to your knowledge, but he had still kept a close watch on you. Why, he just knew it would bother you that he suddenly stopped! Until he overheard you speaking with a friend about how happy you were to finally get some peace and quiet. Well that simply wouldn’t do. After all, you should always make an impact, and what kind of impact would he be leaving on you if you went back to your old boring life? No no that just wont do dear.

He’ll start showing back up at your doorstep, taking you on surprise outing to force you to spend time with him. He’ll take you on a walk around a nearby park, a restaurant one day, the picture show the next. He has a long list of places to take you, so you’ll never go to the same place twice! Get your dancing shoes because he’s gonna take you out to the town for the night, after all the city never sleeps! This is when he becomes less forceful, but more of a decent calm. He begins to listen more when you speak, and you actually begin to care about what he’s saying, what a shock!

It’s almost like a switch flips after your outings. He’ll take you to an orchestra show, snickering to himself when he sees your eyes begin to water as the show closes out. He’ll force you to hold onto his arm as he walks you across the street on a rainy night, making sure you don’t slip or trip on the wet pavement. If you ever do, he’ll try his best to catch you and if he doesn’t? Oh what a nightmare, it seems he’s fallen too! For you that is~

You two begin to feel closer, not only physically but emotionally. He gets you to open up about your personal struggles, and in turn, he’ll share some of his own, but not too much. He doesn’t allow himself to be fully and completely vulnerable with you, not yet. But he does try his best to sympathize with you when you share your piece of mind with him. He feels accomplished to know this part of you, and his ego is the last thing on his mind anymore, but instead you take up all the space.

He doesn’t use pet names for you, not cute ones anyway. He’ll call you his devilish belladonna, especially if you love flowers. His creepy spider Lillie. He’ll often speak in the ‘language of flowers’, and will educate you on it if you don’t know so you know exactly what he’s talking about.

He’s the type of person to correct people in public to make them feel stupid, but he never does that with you. Instead he’ll wait until it’s just the two of you and tell you jokingly how wrong you were. You’ll get upset because he let you look like a fool, but in his mind he’s just protecting your feelings. If anyone else corrects you, they’ll have their mouth sewn shut that’s for sure!

He never gets you the same bouquet of flowers. They’re always different, and every week or so you have a new one. He keeps a separate batch for himself so he knows when to get you another. That being said he also makes the bouquets himself, he does not buy them for you already made.

When you finally take Alastor up on his offer to court you properly, he is over the moon about it! Finally, you seem to be coming to your senses dear! Though you quickly follow that comment up with a “Let the blood rush to your head first.” He just bats his lashes at you with a smile. You always know how to make him feel so loved!

Gets very jealous very easily. If he sees you laughing with someone that isn’t him, he’ll size them up before deciding if they’re a threat or not. Heaven forbid anyone actually put their hands on you and uh oh! Limb of the floor someone come get it!

His possessive nature is rooted in abandonment, and thus being said, he has deep attachment issues to you. You are never out of his sight when you two begin dating, and you’re hardly ever far from him in general. You two dress similarly too, especially if you’re from the same era. He’ll switch up your wardrobe slowly so it complements his.

He isn’t one for strong PDA unless he feels like he needs too or just has a strong want too. Usually it’s an arm around your waist, or you hanging onto his arm loosely. The most he’ll ever really do is a kiss on the back of your hand or to your temple. That being said, he’s like this for various reasons.

One, he has a lot of enemies, which means that not not only does that put you in danger, but if you’re also a powerful overlord, it puts him at risk too, though he doesn’t care much about that part.

Second, he doesn’t like physical contact much, and though he always makes an exception for you, he has his image and pristine reputation to keep up. Which you extremely dislike but tolerate because it’s Alastor and if he hasn’t changed much in centuries, nothings going to change ever.

Alastor is very very fond of you, whether you believe it or not. Your fiery attitude has him whipped more than he likes to admit. He’ll joke with other sinners that he’d sacrifice you to save himself but you both know that isn’t true, his nervous ticks prove it to be false, if you do say so yourself.

He’s very fidgety. He’ll tug a piece of your clothing or twirl a strand of your hair between his claws. If you claim he’s messing up your hair he’ll cast a tornado of shadows around you to fuck it up even more, and then smiling at you lovingly when you threaten to cut his ears off because you can’t tell if they’re his hair or just furry ass ears. You always give him a good laugh.

Other sinners are actually convinced you both hate each other, but turf wars on the news show that you two are the most in love when you’re wreaking havoc on innocent sinners for no possible reason other than the fact you two had an argument and the best way to settle it? Dancing in the rain, which actually isn’t rain, just blood falling from the sky because you like to kill people for fun.

“My darling looks the best in red if I do say so myself! Especially if she’s dressed by another’s remains, oh the beauty!”

Alastor has and will continue to get in his feelings about you and his mother getting along so well. He loves you both to pieces, so seeing his two favorite people together makes his dead heart swell with joy.

He’ll ask you to accompany him to the tailors, he values your opinion more than others so you often make adjustments to his suit and he’s just like ‘Whatever she says that’s what’s going on the suit.’ You also make him your personal dressing doll, trying different patterns and styles on him for fun. Alastor is a true skinny jeans hater and he will die on that hill, again. He really appreciates the 60’s style, but prefers to stick to his own decade.

He will take you out hunting with him, and the two of you share breakfast together with the fresh meat you’ve caught. He only gets the best quality for you because he refuses to have you two ‘eating like chums’. A restaurant tried to lie to the two of you, saying their meat was high quality and fresh. Alastor killed everyone in it and you two shared remains like a true power couple. Hells finest of course. ;)

He’s very critical of picking out jewelry for you. Hunting for the perfect ring for you took him ages, mainly because he knew exactly what he wanted but no jeweler had what he wanted all in one ring. So instead he forces them to make him a custom one. Torn limbs and bloody parts later, you have the ring that Alastor worked so hard to give you. He proposes to you Extermination day, claiming he’d love to spend another year in hell with you before the angels come to rip you two apart from each other. It was such a sweet day, at least to you it was.

The type of relationship where he plays the piano and you sing. He loves when you sing and will gush about you to anyone in sight even if he doesn’t know them.

Is very needy in private. He’s a stage 10000 clinger, and will stick to you like his life depends on it, but will be damned if anyone catches him. You don’t tell anyone about it, you like the private life.

You two have cook offs all the time. You make the hotel staff judge, and ultimately Niffty is the tie breaker because she’s brutally honest. Once she told Alastor he should stay out of the kitchen because women were better at it for a reason… harsh!

He was fine though, he got her back by ridding the hotel of bugs. He knows she likes chasing them around and for that she sobbed at his feet for ten minutes asking him to bring them back. It didn’t take much actually, Sir Pentious brought them back on his own, much to Charlies dismay.

He loves to read with you. You two often read a book and once you both finish you have a tea session over it. It starts off being about the book and then somehow shifts to just gossiping and talking shit about the other overlords, except for Rosie, we love Rosie in this household.

Speaking of, Rosie is usually where you get your clothes from. She’s a sweetheart when she isn’t picking pieces of muscle from her teeth, that sharp smile is a killer! She loves to talk about Alastor with you, and usually she’s where you go after you two have had an argument. You’re also her personal Barbie doll. She puts you in outfits and she and Alastor judge over them. Nine times out of ten you leave her boutique with a new wardrobe every time.

Now let’s talk about Vox.

Honestly the whole reason Vox knows about you is probably because he was digging through Alastors shit. But when he sees you? Oh lord, this man is HOOKED.

He doesn’t even know how Alastor managed to get you entangled with him. He finds out about you when you and Alastor aren’t dating yet, and he basically jumps at his chance to try to be with you.

Vox will forever consider you the one that got away, you can’t change my mind.

Alastor has proven time and time again that he’s basically better than Vox. He took a seven year back, came on the radio one day and boom all his viewers were back. In Alastors mind there’s no competition, just Vox being obsessed with the fact Alastor said no.

Valentino uses it against Vox all the time, and it will always make Vox buffer.

[ahqkas]

“MILLION DOLLAR MAN — bruce wayne.

PAIRING! bruce wayne 𝒙 fem!reader SYNOPSIS! bruce met you through a dating app (his sons’ doing, really) and the temptation to invite you over for christmas is getting harder to resist WORD COUNT! 3.6k WARNINGS / TAGS! fluff, bruce is literally down bad for reader in this one, unedited + lmk if found! NOTES! for nat & based on this req. , header bellow belongs to @/v6que © ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

BRUCE WAYNE AVOIDED RELATIONSHIPS LIKE A SOLDIER DODGING BULLETS, each attempt adding yet another layer to the armor he wore daily. He didn’t need them, the women, or so he told himself. They entered his life easily — at his own charity galas, where one pretty bird thought she could get a kiss from him by the end of the night. Female admirers who ate up his charming smiles and sharp eyes seemed to flock around him at all times. And those countless girls who were lured in by the Wayne name, the status, the wealth.

And Bruce gave them the attention they craved from him.

The women served their purpose as brief districtions, companions who helped him maintain his public image, but none of them really mattered to him.

They kept the colder side of his bed warm, but never his heart.

It wasn’t that Bruce didn’t want love — some part of him did, but that part was buried under the weight of Batman. Allowing himself to lose the walls around him and find an attachment in a woman wasn't something his alter ego was okay with, not with the way he’d been living. And another part convinced him that his duties as Gotham’s protector, with all his scars and wounds, didn’t make him a possible object for such things. Love and vigilantism didn’t mingle together well.

Maybe that’s why his own sons and personal butler teamed up on him. Batman was a hero to many, but with how much it damaged Bruce’s internal beliefs, it would ruin him soon enough.

It started as something innocent (but it seemed the wolf was clothed in sheep’s wool): Dick, his oldest, had teased him about his non-existent love life during a training session in the Batcave.

The large space was full with flickering lights coming from the monitors and grunts from the fighting men. Sweat filled the air, masculine and strong, but that only indicated to the hard work they were doing. Training wasn’t easy, they liked to train with the maximum intensity ( it was kinda needed, too ) and it showed. From their damp hair and glistening skin to the rippling muscles underneath their clothes.

“You know, Bruce,” his son started when he blocked yet another strike coming from the man in question. A puff of air left his mouth upon the attack. Not fair. “for someone who spends his nights saving people, you sure are terrible at saving yourself from eternal loneliness.”

Bruce delivered another jab, this one directed straight at Dick’s weak point. “Not now, Dick.”

But his son was nothing if not persistent and he always got what he wanted, whether it was with or without serious consequences. “I’m serious. When was the last time you went on a date? And don’t try to tell me you had one on your arm during the last charity event. That doesn’t count.”

Both of them fully knew Bruce’s arm candies were way more interested in his name and money than in his heart and soul. The truth made his jaw muscles tighten at the realization.

“My personal life is irrelevant to my work.”

Dick took the opportunity and circled the older man like a predator catching the prey’s scent of blood. A sweet weakness, that one. He’d be stupid if he didn’t take the chance. “Is it though? I mean, sure, you’re great at taking down supervillains and brooding on top of high rooftops, but even Batman needs a little action sometimes. The different kind of action, of course. Or are you planning to spend the rest of your life married to the job?”

Bruce swiped his right leg toward Dick’s shins, trying to take him down like he was the said supervillain but the acrobat jumped right on time, avoiding Bruce’s attempt with a grin on his face.

He landed on his feet and crossed his arms at his chest, leaning the weight of his body against one leg. The playfulness disappeared from both his voice and expression and instead, seriousness graced him whole. “Seriously, Bruce, even Alfred’s worried. He brought it up the other day while we were decorating the tree. Something about how the manor feels colder than usual this year.”

“The heating system is fine.”

With Jason gone, it was the truth. His second son had this strange relationship with all the members of the family. Off and on. Off and on. No one truly knew where they stood in Jason’s eyes but he made the effort and showed up on Christmas Eve the other year upon receiving Alfred’s invitation.

Bruce doubted he would show up two years in a row.

“That’s not what he meant, and you know it,” Dick pressed, and effectively added more salt into Bruce’s wounds. It stung and it fucking hurt. As much as Batman was ruthless, it didn’t mean the man under the mask was resistant against the pain his life brought. “You’re not getting any younger, B. It wouldn’t kill you to let someone in. And I don’t mean us. Try to meet someone who isn’t friendly with a criminal record.”

The older man could only stare helplessly at the other. Those words his son, partner, spoke were loud, crawling their way into his mind and much to his dismay, his heart as well.

Before he could voice his dismissal, a younger voice called out. It was familiar in a way family tended to be.

“You are wasting your breath, Grayson. Father has neither the time nor the inclination to entertain your nonsense,” his youngest son declared into the space of Batcave, his voice ringing out and echoing every single word. The blood son, Damian Wayne.

The father didn’t even flinch, just let out a deep sigh through his nose. It was as usual between those two, always bickering from Damian’s side and teasing remarks from Dick’s. You could mistake the blood running through their system as one, if not for the physical differences. They were brothers in all but red.

“Damian,” Dick started in that lecturing tone he’d always seemed to use with the younger boy, “when was the last time you saw Bruce here even try to have a social life?”

Damian rolled his eyes, the green disappearing behind his eyelids before they reappeared, rougher than they were. “The so called ‘social life’ you’re referring to consists of women who barely last through dinner. Why would he waste his energy on distractions when Gotham requires his full attention?”

“Because even Batman needs a break. You know, normal human things? Like dating, smiling, not dying alone in this cave surrounded by bats?”

“If Father is content with his choices, who are you to meddle? Unlike you, he does not require constant companionship to validate his existence.”

“Ouch,” Dick put his palm against his heart in a mocking manner, feigning hurt as his lips formed a pout. “You’ve got a real gift for the Christmas spirit, don’t you?”

The younger son narrowed his eyes at his supposed brother. The constant bickering was almost normal in their lives so far, and nothing seemed to be changing any time soon. He had to learn how to live with the excuse of a brother, although he started to form a light liking towards him. He wasn’t so bad. “I only speak the truth,” his green irises flicked to Bruce. “Though it is peculiar he tolerates your interference. Perhaps even Father has realized how pathetic his current romantic life—or lack thereof—appears.”

The object of the conversation let out another sigh, this one loud enough for the boys to hear. Their gazes snapped toward Bruce with accusingly great speed.

“If you two are done debating my personal life, there’s actual work to be done.”

He missed the glance his oldest threw at the youngest. He missed the look filled with amusement and a plan that was already brewing. He missed the nod they gave each other, although Dick’s was more pronounced and determined.

The next few hours were spent creating Bruce’s dating app profile.

The final result was the definition of real sugar daddy vibes. Every detail had been debated (mostly argued over though) and thought through, so to say the boys were satisfied with it was an understatement. The oldest prided in the work, saying how it would get so many women to reply which would eventually lead to the right one. The middle one Dick and Damian (only Dick) dragged into the activity beamed up once the profile was set while the youngest scoffed and scowled during the entire process.

During the next evening, the boys showed the main man his new account.

Bruce was left speechless upon seeing the bright screen flash before his eyes. Not a single word was muttered as he watched his boys showing him the app and explaining how exactly it worked (he’d never used a dating app before all this so bear with him). The main photo on the profile was a candid one of him, the one Cass had taken on a sunny day in the Wayne Manor gardern. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt, the long sleeves rolled up past his elbows as the muscles of his forearms bulged up. The faintest smile tugged at the corner of his lips, the sunlight casting shadows across his sharp features and Bruce had to admit they chose a good photo.

It wasn’t intimidating, but it wasn’t exactly friendly as well. The good old middle.

The boys knew he was convinced to give it a try when he waved them off with a deep sigh slipping past his lips.

The game was on.

It was past the midnight when he lied in his bed, propped against one too many pillows and wondered why he was still scrolling through the damned dating app. It was late—far past the time he should have been out on patrol, but Red Hood and Red Robin got it covered for him.

Bruce wasn’t looking for anything specific, really. If he were honest, this whole situation felt out of place for him. Swiping through the profiles was more like an exercise for his thumb.

First was Madison K. Her profile opened with flashy colors that immediately put Bruce into a doubtful situation. Were all these women going to be like this? Madison was beautiful and her looks screamed professionalism: her makeup was done flawlessly, adorning her bright eyes and full lips. She looked like she belonged on a cover for a fashion magazine, not a dating app. Her bio made his thumb swipe left.

‘Manifesting my best life. CEO of my own happiness. Looking for someone who’s successful, ambitious, and knows how to treat me like a queen.’

The next account’s bio made him grimace and swipe left once again.

‘Looking for someone who can keep me living the dream. If you’re successful, generous, and ready to spoil me, let’s talk.”

At this point, Bruce was ready to delete the dating app his boys set up and enjoy the rest of his night. Most of the profiles he swiped through were simply bland to him. Nothing felt genuine. Right. It was safe to say he was losing the hope Dick had set in him earlier in the evening. Until he stumbled upon your profile.

The account stood out among the others—simple, elegant, but with a certain amount of warmth that seemed genuine. Bruce’s heart skipped a beat once he scrolled further and came across your photo. The picture showed you in a cozy cafe, the one Steph adored so much for their cinnamon roll buns. A soft smile danced on your pretty face, highlighting the curve of your cheeks as you looked off to the side. You captured Bruce in a way the others didn’t.

You looked like a fawn surrounded by hungry wolves. You were admirable while they were craving wealth and status. Two different sides of a coin, but Bruce had already known his pick.

Your bio was sincere, a sight the man liked to see.

‘I enjoy the little moments — finding beauty in the simple things. I believe in kindness, and I’m looking for someone who values honesty and a deep conversation.’

His mind flicked briefly toward the countless hours he spends in the cave, surrounded by work and worries. You seemed like the one who could understand the balance between the quiet and the loud, someone who could exist in both of his worlds without losing that spark you held in your gaze.

Before he could overthink it, Bruce clicked on the “message” button.

Once the screen of your non-existent chat appeared, his mind went blank and all he was capable of was to stare mindlessly at the phone. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, but no words came to him. What did one say to someone like you? He wasn’t used to thinking ahead when it came to women. This was a new field. And he couldn’t screw up.

Finally, his fingers moved before his mind could think of whatever embarrassing thing it was capable of.

> Hey, I noticed your profile and wanted to reach out. There’s something about your words that struck a chord with me. I’d like to know more about you.

And that’s how the two of you started your relationship, or whatever you could call it. Neither of you voiced it as official, but that was okay. He hadn’t expected to feel this way, not so soon. And yet it came at him, crashing like a large wave of emotions every time you were around. You changed everything for him.

Your conversations became the highlight of his days.

His ears perked up every single time without a fail when he heard the soft ‘ping!’ of the notification, already convinced it was from you (and it 98 percent was). Whether it was early in the morning before he started working in the chaotic Wayne Enterprises or late at night when the Batcave was quiet and felt at peace. You were always there with him.

You were thoughtful, generous, and refreshingly kind. You asked him questions that no one else dared to: what he wanted from life, what made him happy, what kept him awake at night. You didn’t flinch at his silence. You didn’t push him to give answers he wasn’t ready to share. You understood him in a way only a few people did.

Piece by piece, he let you into his world — not that part filled with constant danger and threats, but that part that longed for something real.

By the time Christmas approached, Bruce was sure of one thing: he wanted you in his life.

The holiday was just around the corner, filling the air with joy and gratitude as it always did. The snow was blanketing the streets with white powder, and although many people were complaining about the cold, it had its charm.

Christmas had always been about family for Bruce, about gathering around the tree and full table with the people who mattered most. It was lonely at first, after the death of his parents, but over the years, Alfred had made it work. The table was always full of tasty food the kids adored and presents Bruce knew would make them more than happy were neatly waiting for them every morning after Christmas Eve.

This year though, Bruce wanted it to be a little different. He wanted you to be part of it.

You might actually fit into the chaos of the Wayne family — the teasing and playful banters between you, Dick, and Tim would be absolute gold to hear. You probably even could handle Damian’s wit which was something his father would like to see. He could picture you smiling, holding back your own remarks. The idea of you sitting beside him at the long dining table, sharing their traditions, made his chest feel warm in a way he wasn’t used to.

That night, he sent you a message.

> Are you free on Christmas Eve?

Your response came in quickly, as it always did. Bruce’s heart thumped against the bones of his ribs.

> I am. Why?

He hesitated for a bit, overthinking his decision.

> I’d like you to join me for dinner. It’s a family thing but I’d really like for you to be there.

> Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.

> You wouldn’t be intruding.

Bruce could picture the light frown between your brows and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. You often did it unconsciously, never knowing how pretty you looked this way. But even as he pictured your face, a part of him was growing more nervous about the situation. Would you agree to an event this serious? Spend Christmas with him. And his family. Or were you coming up with excuses right now? He wouldn’t blame you.

> Then I’d love to come.

His heart skipped a beat and that night, Bruce went to bed feeling a little lighter than he usually did.

Snow blanketed the long driveway leading up to Wayne Manor and for once, Bruce wasn’t thinking about the pressure of Batman or the chaos the boys would definitely stir up tonight. His attention was entirely focused on the one making your way towards him. He stood just outside the grand entrance, dressed in a dark, perfectly tailored suit that fit him like a glove. The soft crunch of tires on the white powder alerted him to your arrival, and as your car pulled up, Bruce started to feel the nervousness. He adjusted his tie with a single hand.

When you stepped out, his breath caught.

You were breathtakingly beautiful. Dressed in an inky black that hugged your figure in all the right places, the fabric shimmered under the outdoor lights of the mansion. The smile you gave him when your eyes met melted all the nerves that had been harboring in his system. He was finally calm and composed, for what seemed like the first time in the evening.

“You’re early,” Bruce pointed out softly when you walked up the stairs to meet him in front of the door, and his eyes sparkled with little stars at the sight of you. How did he get so lucky? “You look stunning, by the way.”

“I didn’t want to keep you waiting. And thank you. You clean up well, too, Bruce.”

Your gaze held a playful edge in it as you accepted his hand, locking your palm around his bulging biceps and squeezing warmly. The touch added the missing piece of the puzzle Bruce was trying to solve while his cheeks warmed a rosy pink under your influence without any hesitation. The gesture felt natural, like it always belonged there.

The two of you approached the doors of the manor in a shared silence, although it didn’t feel a bit awkward. You took a moment to take in the place. It was like something out of your childhood dreams — tall, arched windows glowing with the soft light of a dozen garlands lining the entryway. The faint hum of holiday music and the occasional sound of laughter echoed through the manor.

It was Bruce’s home.

“Do you always go this big for Christmas?” you voiced a question that's been sitting on your mind since the moment you saw the large Christmas tree from the entryway to Bruce’s living room. Decorated with lots of ornaments, it looked lovely, accompanied by a heap of presents.

“Alfred insists,” admitting with a soft chuckle, Bruce rubbed the nape of his neck as he led you deeper into his home. “And the boys like the holidays. I want them to have the best.”

The scent of pine and cinnamon enveloped your senses the further you moved. The sounds grew louder, too. You awe made him feel lighter somehow. The dining room at Wayne Manor was nothing short of spectacular this night, with the long mahogany table adorned with a dozen of flickering candles and plates of food that looked like it belonged in a holiday spread for a cookbook.

You were sitting beside Bruce (he kind of insisted anyway), your hand occasionally brushing against his. He helped you settle into the chair which earned a teasing glance from Dick. Speaking of his oldest son, he was sitting across from you with an easy grin that told you some questions would come your way sooner or later. Tim was at Dick’s right, while Damian occupied the chair from the other side of his father.

The evening was more than successful in your opinion. Steph asked you about your favorite literature, while Tim quizzed you on trivia about Gotham (which you surprisingly got all right). Damian, after much persistence from Dick, shared a story about his latest art project, though he kept glancing at you as if trying to gauge your reaction.

Through it all, Bruce remained by your side.

When the night finally came to an end, and everyone drifted to their own space of the manor, Bruce walked you to the entrance with a gentle hand against the small of your back.

“Thank you,” his gaze met yours as he handed you your coat, effortlessly helping you slip your arms into the sleeves. “For coming tonight. For putting up with them.”

You gifted him with the most precious kind of a present; your smile, smaller hands reaching up to adjust the collar of his dark suit. “Of course. They’re wonderful, Bruce. I enjoyed myself tonight.”

For a man who othen found himself at loss for words when it came to talking in emotions, Bruce found himself smiling softly with his heart feeling lighter than it had in years. Because for the first time, Christmas didn’t feel like an obligation. It felt like a new beginning.

[pucksandpower]

Bet on It

Charles Leclerc x Marko!Reader

Summary: Charles will do anything for you to finally give him the time of day … even if that means betting on himself to pull off the impossible in exchange for a date with you

“Charles, don’t even start,” you raise your hand to stop him before he can get the words out.

His mouth closes and he looks at you with those puppy dog eyes, like a sad little boy who just got told he can’t have ice cream before dinner.

You have to resist the urge to laugh. Does he really think that’s going to work on you? You’ve seen that look a hundred times before, whenever you turn him down for a date.

Which is every time he’s asked.

“Come on, Y/N,” he pleads. “Just one date, that’s all I’m asking for.”

You shake your head, arms crossed over your chest. “Nope, not gonna happen.”

He runs a hand through his hair in frustration. That tousled mop looks like it hasn’t seen a comb in days. Somehow he manages to make the just-rolled-out-of-bed look work.

“Give me one good reason why not,” he challenges.

“I’ll give you three,” you fire back. “One, you’re an F1 driver, which means you have an ego the size of a not-so-small country. Two, you’re my team’s biggest rival. And three, you’re a player.”

He puts a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “Moi? I would never.”

You fix him with a pointed stare and his innocent act crumbles.

“Okay fine, maybe I used to be,” he admits. “But I’m not like that anymore. I’m ready to settle down, and I want to do that with you.”

“Uh huh, sure you are,” you say skeptically. “I’m not some pitlane groupie. I don’t just fall all over myself for handsome drivers with dreamy eyes.”

His face lights up. “You think I have dreamy eyes?”

You feel your cheeks flush. Crap. You did not mean to let that slip out.

“That’s not the point,” you say quickly. “The point is, the answer is no. It’s always going to be no. So you can stop asking me out already.”

You turn on your heel to walk away, but he reaches out and gently grabs your wrist. You pause, looking back at him.

“Just one date,” he says again, green eyes boring into yours. “Give me a chance to prove myself. If you don’t have a good time, I’ll never ask you out again.”

You consider his offer. One date, that’s all he’s asking for. And really, what’s the harm? It’s not like you have to marry the guy if you go to dinner with him once.

Still … this is Charles Leclerc you’re dealing with. Who knows what kind of charms and flirtatious tricks he’d pull out to try and win you over? You know you find him attractive — those eyes really are dreamy — but getting involved with him would be messy, to say the least. Your grandfather would flip.

“I don’t think so,” you say firmly. “Like I already told you, it’s not going to happen.”

His face falls. For a second you feel a twinge of guilt. He looks so dejected. But then that spark of mischief is back in his eyes. Uh oh. You know that look. The wheels are turning. He’s got an idea.

“Okay, how about we make this interesting,” he says slowly. “If I win the race this weekend, you have to go on a date with me.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. Is he serious right now?

“Let me get this straight … you want to make a bet involving the outcome of the race, when it’s at the Red Bull Ring, our team’s home track, where Max has won four times in the last six seasons? With the rocket ship of a car that is the RB20?” You shake your head in disbelief. “I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

He shrugs, a small smile playing on his lips. “I never said it was a sure thing. But if I manage to pull it off, then you have to hold up your end of the bargain.”

You consider his proposition. On the one hand, the chances of him winning in the Ferrari this weekend are not great. Statistically, Max is the clear favorite. So there’s really no risk of you actually having to go on a date with Charles.

On the other hand, you have to admit the idea is intriguing. And knowing Charles beat the odds to win would be kinda hot ...

Wait, what are you thinking? Get it together, Y/N! This is a terrible idea.

But before you can talk yourself out of it, you hear yourself saying, “Alright, you’re on.”

A wide grin spreads across Charles’ handsome face. “Yeah? We have a bet then?”

You nod, already wondering if you’ve made a huge mistake. “Yep. But don’t look so cocky. The chances of you winning are like a million to one.”

“We’ll see about that,” he says with a wink. Then he glances down at his watch. “I better go. See you in part fermé after the race.”

He turns and saunters off. You watch him go, heart sinking. What on earth have you just agreed to?

***

Your stomach is in knots on race day. You tried to play it cool in front of Charles, but the truth is, you are desperately hoping he does not win this race. One date with him and you know you’ll be a goner. You’re already more attracted to him than you want to admit.

You watch from the Red Bull garage as the cars go around on the formation lap. Charles is starting P5, with Max on pole. The odds are heavily in the World Champion’s favor.

But still … plenty of drivers have won from worse positions. And this is Charles Leclerc you’re talking about. When he sets his mind to something, he’s unstoppable.

The red lights go out and Max gets a clean start, streaking away into the lead. Charles has a decent launch off the line too, but he can’t challenge Max going into turn 1. He slots into P5 behind Lando Norris as they thunder down the straight for the first time.

Your grandfather shoots you a look from across the garage, one eyebrow quirked. He knows about the bet. He wasn’t exactly thrilled when you told him, but amusement seemed to win out over anger in the end. Probably because he’s just as confident as you are that Charles has no chance today.

The race unfolds lap after lap. Max opens up a huge gap while fighting rages behind him. Charles battles with the Mercedes of Lewis Hamilton, exchanging positions several times. By lap 20, Charles is up to P4, having pulled off a stellar overtake around the outside of turn 7.

Half distance comes and goes. Charles is closing in on Checo and George Russell ahead of him. He’s clearly got the bit between his teeth today. You watch with bated breath as he pulls alongside the Red Bull and Mercedes into turn 4, the three drivers going wheel to wheel with barely any room to spare. Charles emerges ahead and suddenly he’s P2.

Your grandfather shoots you another look. “He’s on the podium,” he remarks.

You bite your lip. You don’t need the reminder. Ugh, you knew you shouldn’t have agreed to this.

With 15 laps to go, Max’s engine unexpectedly lets go in a plume of smoke. Your grandfather curses while the Red Bull mechanics stare at the screens in disbelief. Charles swoops through into P1 with Checo behind him, the Ferrari now running up a solid lead.

Barring disaster, Charles is going to win this race. Which means you’re going to have to go on a date with him.

You watch the final laps tick down with growing dread. The checkered flag waves and the Ferrari garage erupts in celebration. Charles pulls the car to a stop and rips off his helmet, beaming from ear to ear. Even from here you can see the pure joy and elation on his face.

He jumps out of the cockpit and is immediately mobbed by his team. You try to slip away unnoticed, but one of the Ferrari press officers flags you down.

“Charles wants to see you for the podium celebration,” he says.

You close your eyes briefly in defeat. There’s no getting out of this now. Slowly you follow the man out to the cool down room. Charles is just coming out, still flushed with victory. When he sees you, his whole face lights up.

“I told you I could do it,” he crows, pulling you into an exuberant hug before you can protest. He smells like petrol and sweat.

“Yeah, yeah, congratulations,” you mumble into his race suit.

He grins down at you. “Don’t look so sad. I promise you’ll have fun.”

You force a smile, but inside your heart is sinking. One date with Charles and you know you’ll never be able to resist him again.

The podium passes in a blur. You manage to avoid any interviews, not trusting yourself not to say something you’ll regret on camera. Like what a cocky, arrogant, too-handsome-for-his-own-good flirt Charles is.

After what feels like an eternity of spraying champagne and cheering crowds, Charles finally finds you again. His hair is still damp and curled wildly from the celebratory drink.

Charles playfully wipes a splash of sparkling wine from your cheek, his touch lingering for a moment.

“Sorry about that,” he says with a twinkle in his eye.

You just shake your head, unable to stop the smile spreading across your face. His joy is infectious.

“I believe you owe me a date,” he says, looking far too pleased with himself.

You sigh, resigned to your fate. “I guess I did make a deal. When do you want to do this?”

“No time like the present.” He glances at his watch. “I’ll pick you up at 7. Wear something nice.”

Your eyes widen. Tonight? You were hoping to have a little more time to mentally prepare yourself. But before you can object, he leans in and presses a swift kiss to your cheek.

“See you tonight, Y/N.”

Then he’s gone, strolling back to the Ferrari garage like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Meanwhile, your heart is thudding against your ribs. You touch your cheek where his lips branded your skin.

You just hope you have the strength not to give in to his charms completely. One date. That’s it. You are not going to fall for Charles Leclerc.

No matter how dreamy his eyes are.

***

The doorbell rings at 7pm sharp. You take a deep breath and smooth down your dress before opening the door.

Charles stands there looking unfairly handsome in a sharp charcoal suit. His eyes light up when he sees you.

“Wow,” he says, gaze traveling appreciatively over you. “You look amazing.”

You feel yourself blush. “Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

He grins and offers you his arm. “Shall we?”

You loop your hand through his elbow and let him lead you to his car. He opens the door for you like a true gentleman. This sweet, chivalrous side is one you’ve never seen before. Already he’s subverting your expectations.

During the drive, Charles asks you questions and listens intently to your answers. He’s completely focused on you, making you feel like the most fascinating person in the world. By the time you arrive at the restaurant, a lovely Italian place near the city center, you’re feeling much more at ease.

Dinner passes enjoyably with playful, flirtatious conversation. Charles has you laughing one minute and blushing the next with his charm and undivided attention. He seems to know just what to say to make you smile. Not an ounce of cockiness or ego shows through.

After you polish off a shared tiramisu, Charles suggests a walk through the nearby park. You happily agree. As you stroll beneath the trees, he tentatively reaches for your hand. When you thread your fingers through his, the smile that lights up his face melts your heart.

You talk softly, learning more about each other. He asks thoughtful questions and shares things about himself that surprise you. Like his close relationship with his family, his secret talent for cooking (which you don’t believe for a second), and his love for composing music.

When he shyly admits he’s never felt this way about anyone before, you don’t doubt his sincerity for a moment. He means every word.

Too soon you’ve looped back to where you started and flag down the valet before making the drive back to the hotel. Charles walks you to your door, still holding your hand like he never wants to let go.

“I had a really nice time tonight,” you say softly.

“Me too.” He moves closer, searching your eyes. “I’d really like to see you again.”

Your breath catches at his closeness and the intensity in his gaze. The wise thing would be to end this now before it goes any further. But his hopeful, heart eyes crumble your resolve.

“I’d like that too,” you whisper.

A smile blooms on his face right before he leans in and kisses you. It’s soft and sweet, sending tingles down to your toes. When he pulls back, eyes shining, you know you’re a goner.

One date turns into two, then three, then suddenly you’re spending every weekend together, traveling between races. Charles goes out of his way to meet up with you, even when it means long flights in between events. Holding you in his arms seems to be the only thing that matters.

When he shyly asks you to be his girlfriend, you don’t hesitate a second before saying yes. The kiss he gives you leaves no doubt about his happiness.

Your grandfather is wary at first, but Charles is relentless, assuring him at every chance how deeply he cares about you. Eventually Helmut accepts that the man gazing at you like you hung the stars is nothing like the flirtatious playboy he assumed.

This is the real Charles — sweet, thoughtful, and absolutely devoted.

The two of you become inseparable. Charles arrives at every race with your hand clasped in his, making sure to greet your grandfather before and after with a handshake and sincere well wishes. He stays close through successes and disappointments, as you become his steadfast supporter.

At night you lay tangled together, talking late into the darkness. He whispers secrets no one else knows and you bare your soul in return. You’ve never felt more understood by someone. In his arms is your favorite place in the world.

When he shyly gives you a key to his Monaco apartment, tears fill your eyes. Calling it home feels as natural as breathing.

Whenever you walk through the door, his eyes light up like you’re the answer to every prayer. He sweeps you into his arms, holding you close as he whispers “I missed you.”

Charles looks at you like he’s seeing his future. “I want this forever,” he murmurs against your lips.

You look into those watercolor eyes and know you never stood a chance at resisting. “Me too.”

***

The new season kicks off and you’re thrilled to be back in the paddock with Charles. The only downside is having to part ways when you reach the garages, going to opposite sides of the divide.

You’ve gotten used to your Red Bull team gear. The colors are familiar, almost comforting. Charles has gently brought up the idea of you wearing Ferrari red instead, but you just can’t bring yourself to do it. That would feel like the ultimate betrayal.

Charles accepts your decision with his usual grace. He knows how difficult this situation is for you, caught between loyalties. But the gleam in his eye tells you he hasn’t given up on swaying you yet.

Sure enough, as Monza approaches, Charles issues a new challenge.

“If I win our home race, you have to wear Ferrari merch next time,” he coaxes, punctuating his request with a kiss.

You pretend to think about it. “Hmm, I guess I could do that.” Seeing his smile light up melts your reluctance.

Charles takes pole position on Saturday, amping up the pressure. Still, you’re not too worried. Max has this in the bag.

Famous last words. You really should have learned better the first time.

Only Max doesn’t have it in the bag. Charles drives a flawless race and takes the victory, the Tifosi crowd exploding with delirious joy. Charles standing proudly atop the podium in front of the sea of fans is a sight you’ll never forget.

Now you have to hold up your end of the bargain.

The next race weekend you show up with a red Ferrari team shirt stretched across your shoulders, a matching cap gracing your head. You feel like a fraud, but a deal’s a deal.

You’re trying to sneak through the paddock unnoticed when a reporter flags you down.

“Y/N, care to explain the new look?” She asks, eyeing your outfit.

You shift awkwardly, grasping for words. “Oh, um, well ...”

Before you can formulate a response, an excited voice interrupts. “That’s my girl!”

Charles appears out of nowhere and throws an arm around you, beaming at the camera.

“Everybody’s a Ferrari fan.” He declares. “Even if they say they’re not, they are Ferrari fans.”

He emphasizes this point by planting a kiss directly on your mouth. You flush crimson but can’t help smiling against his lips.

Pulling back, he winks and shoots the camera a million dollar grin. “She looks good in red, no?”

With that he steers you away, leaving the reporter chuckling behind you.

“You’re terrible,” you scold Charles, but you’re laughing too.

He just grins and kisses your temple. “Maybe so, but I’m your terrible boyfriend who you love very much, yes?”

You roll your eyes but snuggle closer into his side. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

Tomorrow you’ll be back in dark blue, but right now, wrapped in Charles’ embrace and seeing how happy it makes him, you can’t bring yourself to mind the color change too much.

Maybe eventually you’ll get used to alternating depending on whose garage you’re watching from that day. It seems Charles Leclerc has more sway over you than you ever could have imagined, enough to override even a lifetime of team loyalties.

And, as he looks at you like you’re the only woman on earth, you can’t find it in yourself to regret that fact one bit.

***

After the stunt Charles pulled with the interview, you decide turnabout is fair play. An idea starts forming, bringing a devious smile to your lips. Time for a little payback.

You bide your time, waiting for the perfect moment. Finally, an off weekend arrives where Charles is staying at your place. When he goes out to run errands on Saturday morning, you set your plan in motion.

A quick trip to Agent Provocateur provides the supplies you need. After Charles leaves, you slip into the dressing room and emerge wearing a sexy red lace teddy that leaves little to the imagination.

Checking yourself in the mirror, you make a few adjustments. The color is Ferrari red through and through. Charles’ eyes are going to bug out of his head when he sees you in this.

You hear the front door open right on cue. “Mon amour, I’m back!” Charles calls.

“In here!” You reply, reclining casually across the bed. You arrange yourself in a tempting pose and wait.

A moment later Charles appears in the doorway, loaded down with his own shopping bags. When he spots you, he freezes, jaw dropping. The bags tumble unheeded to the floor.

You bite your lip coyly. “Welcome home.”

“What … I … you …” Charles stammers, eyes round as saucers as they rove over you. He seems incapable of forming a coherent thought.

You toss your hair back with exaggerated nonchalance. “Oh this old thing? Just trying on some new clothes. What do you think?”

Charles makes a strangled noise, still rooted to the spot.

You take pity on him and pat the bed. “Why don’t you come over here and show me how much you like it?”

That snaps him out of his stupor. In two strides he’s across the room, mouth capturing yours hungrily. You melt into his kiss, winding your arms around his neck.

When you finally come up for air, his eyes are blazing. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

You trail a fingertip down his chest. “Payback for your little stunt.”

He grins sheepishly. “Okay, I deserved that. But this ...” His heated gaze travels over you again. “You look incredible. Only one thing would make it better ...”

He hurries over to his gear bag, rummaging excitedly. With a flourish, he produces his cap, a large 16 prominently embroidered on the front. Plopping it on your head, he steps back to admire the effect.

“Perfect,” he declares. Taking your hand, he tugs you to the full length mirror.

The vision staring back makes you catch your breath. The red teddy clinging to every curve, paired with Charles’ cap tilted rakishly on top of cascading hair … you have to admit it’s hot. No wonder Charles looks ready to combust.

His arms slide around you from behind, lips finding that sensitive spot beneath your ear. “Have I mentioned how sexy you look in red?” He murmurs.

You tilt your head to give him better access, sighing with pleasure. “Mmm, I think you better show me some more.”

Charles grins against your skin. “With pleasure.”

Scooping you up, he deposits you back on the bed and proceeds to worship every inch of the tantalizing red lingerie with hands, lips, and devoted words.

By the time he finally peels it off you, the teddy is a tattered scrap. But the awed look in his eyes makes it clear the effect is unforgettable.

Laying wrapped in each other’s arms afterward, you kiss the tip of his nose playfully. “So I take it you liked your surprise?”

“Liked it?” He shakes his head in wonder. “I absolutely loved it. You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You snuggle into his chest, satisfied. “Well in that case, expect to see more Ferrari red in my collection in the future.”

His eyes light up. “You’re going to be the death of me. But what a way to go.”

You’ll have to add some rosso corsa to your closet. Not that you mind.

A small price to pay to see that look in his eyes, like you’re the answer to his wildest fantasies come true.

[ddarker-dreams]

Can you spare us some Scara crumbs for this starving pigeons pls?🥺🥺🥺 I miss the way how you write that shortass gremlin so much (I miss my wife, tails... I miss my wife)

There comes a point where even you, one of the few species capable of withstanding long-term exposure to a certain Harbinger, find yourself exasperated. Beneath his apathetic façade lies a volatile ego, poised to misinterpret the most innocent acts as a knife through the heart. Scaramouche's treated you coldly since you both retired to your personal quarters. You'd like to claim ignorance, but you know better — know him better — which makes remedying the issue harder.

"You had a fun evening, I take it?"

His voice shoots across the room, releasing the taut string that's had you in the crosshair for hours.

"It was fine," you accentuate your indifference with a shrug. Then, a counterattack of your own: "Why?"

He puffs his cheek to the side, looking more like an indignant child than one of the most feared forces at the Fatui's disposal. "Oh, no reason. I just couldn't help but notice how eager you were to fawn over my co-worker."

And there it is, you think. Why did we have to run into Childe, of all people...?

"I was just being polite."

"'Polite?'" He repeats, barking out a hollow laugh. "That smile, those sweet expressions were polite? Are you sure you weren't auditioning to be a courtesan?"

You offer him your most unimpressed look. Scaramouche returns it tenfold, narrowing his eyes and closing the gap in distance between you. You take it as an opportunity to examine the finer details he works so diligently to hide. The trembling of his lower lip, curling of his fists, and the watery sheen coating his eyes.

Although he doesn't require oxygen, his chest heaves like he's been deprived of it.

Or something of equal significance.

"I can't stand it," he admits, raising a shaky hand to cup your face. "You— that... nauseating charm. You're bound to attract pests everywhere you go. I thought by now, it'd be clear that you're off limits, but..."

Electricity crackles in the air.

Then, he freezes when you lay your hand on his.

"No one's going to try anything," you reassure. You leave out the part that they might as well be bringing about the end of the world. "Let's just call it a night before we get more worked up, okay?"

His fingers twitch.

Eventually, he averts his gaze, a rosy blush dusting over his cheeks.

Scaramouche clears his throat, then grumbles, "... I'm not worked up."

Regardless of his complaints, he silently acquiesces to your wish, slinking his way over to your wardrobe to contemplate what he'll have you wear the following day.

[ashwhowrites]

Hi, Can you do a Steve harrington x freak!reader where the reader has always liked him since he was king Steve but then he embarrassed them so they avoided him ever since until either season 3 or 4, where Steve is trying to win them back with the help of Eddie, their best friend. Happy ending please!!! Thank you!!

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Soft spot

Y/N knew liking Steve was a horrible idea, but she fell anyway. She liked him before he became King Steve, and unfortunately liked him during that phase.

He did not feel the same. Instead, he publicly embarrassed her. Even though it happened years ago, she could still feel the burn of embarrassment. And the fact she never got an apology from him might have been a factor as to why she can't get over it.

Then he graduated and she didn't have to relive it. She kept clear of him around town, not wanting him to find something else he disliked about her. She was doing a damn great job at it, until Eddie.

Eddie and Y/N were best friends and ran hellfire together. One thing that started their friendship was their dislike for Steve. And now? Eddie and Steve somehow became friends, and it pissed Y/N off.

She was hurt and betrayed that Eddie would be friends with him, but Eddie kept preaching that Steve was different. But how was Eddie so sure? What if he changed back within a second. She still had a soft for Steve and knew that part of her would win. That meant she was going to fight as much as she could.

As for Steve, he never forgot about her once he graduated. She was out of sight and in his mind, her name always rang a bell.

She was talking with Eddie, her smile so wide and beautiful. Steve couldn't help but stare in awe as she looked memorizing doing something so simple. Then her eyes moved to his, and he froze. He gulped as her eyes went into slits before she looked back at Eddie. Steve almost felt jealous of her soft eyes when she looked at Eddie. He wanted her to look at him like that too.

After Eddie bid her goodbye, he walked over to Steve.

"Ready to go?" Eddie asked, clueless to Steve's personal battle.

"Uh yeah, but quick question," Steve said, Eddie turned his head to listen. "How do I get Y/N to like me?"

~~~

Eddie warned Steve it would be a long ride to get Y/N to forgive him, and he was okay with that.

Y/N worked at the arcade, and Steve happily drove Dustin and the gang to play. As they went wild, he made his way over to the counter. She was leaning over the counter, looking bored as he walked up. But once she saw him, she stood tall.

"Hi, Y/N right?" Steve asked, already throwing on his charming smile

"That's what the name tag says," She said, sass on her tongue. Steve looked down at her chest, her name tag clear as day.

"Right," Steve said, rubbing his jaw as he tried to figure out what to say next. "Look, I'll just cut to the chase-"

"No need to, I'm not interested in anything you have to say," she said cutting him off. She smirked, loving that she got to embarrass him instead.

"That's fair, but please?" He tried. She tried to look away from his desperate brown eyes.

"Please? King Steve begs now?" Y/N asked, her smirk growing more and more.

"I'm not King Steve anymore. I grew up and left that stupid ego behind." Steve said, his voice serious. "I want to apologize and maybe start over?"

Y/N felt her heart race, but she couldn't get sucked in by his charm and puppy eyes. "Why all of a sudden? Because you and Eddie are friends? Just because you two are friends, does not mean we need to be friends."

"I've never seen you around, but you are now and I want to fix this." He said as he pointed between them.

"You mean never noticed me around," Y/N snapped, "and nothing to fix because I'm not interested in ever talking to you. Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do." She walked out from behind the counter and took off.

Steve sighed, not happy with how that interaction went.

~~~

Eddie and Y/N talked about the next campaign as they walked to his van. The night was chilly as it was nearly eight pm. Y/N sighed as Steve's car was parked next to them, Dustin in the front seat.

"Hi, again," Steve said with a smile, leaning slightly out of his window.

Y/N rolled her eyes and got into the van, slamming the door shut before he could speak again.

Eddie shrugged his shoulders with a slight smile. He secretly enjoyed the treatment she gave Steve.

~~~

Y/N sighed as Eddie dragged her through the party. Sometimes she hated how much she loved Eddie and agreed to do anything for him.

"Deal will be like an hour tops, then we'll leave," Eddie promised. Y/N sighed louder but kept walking. Eddie found a table outside and took her a seat, Y/N left to grab them a drink.

She walked into the crowded kitchen and filled up two cups with some type of liquor she didn't even know.

"Need a hand?" Steve's voice came from behind her. His mouth was right in her ear, his breath made her shiver.

She turned around, sighing as she prepared to deal with him again.

"Nope, I'm all good," she said, preparing to leave but he softly grabbed her arm to stop her. He yanked her so her body was against his. She was so close that she smelled his cologne and the beer on his breath. His skin glowed under the dim lights, and she tried not to memorize the freckles and moles on his face.

"You aren't leaving until we talk," he demanded. Y/N tried to stand her ground, tried to act like his touch, his voice, and his body had no control over her.

"I told you I don't want to talk," she snapped, but her body didn't move.

"Fine, then listen." He said, moving his grip down to her hand as he walked her into the nearest room with a door.

He closed the door behind him, now both in a random bedroom.

"I'm meant to be here with Eddie," Y/N said, one last attempt to leave but he didn't move away from the door.

"Eddie will be fine for two seconds," Steve mumbled. Y/N placed the drinks on the nightstand and crossed her arms.

"What do you want from me, Steve? Why can't you leave me alone?" She asked

"I'm sorry for what I did in high school. I'm sorry I said those things about you in front of a crowd. You never deserved that. I was a dick and too prideful to admit I was wrong, but I'm not anymore." He began to walk towards her, "I'm not him anymore. I've changed, but the one thing that never changed was my feelings for you."

Y/N froze as the last words fell from his lips. He was now right in front of her, soft doe eyes staring into hers.

She broke the eye contact, licking her lips as she cleared her throat. She looked around the room before she looked at him again.

"Munson told me all about your suspicion and that you don't believe that I've changed. But I can prove it to you if you give me the chance." He spoke softly and quietly.

"What feelings?" she whispered, her voice cracked as her throat dried up. She felt nervous under his strong gaze.

"I've had feelings for you for years. I know I fucked up my chance the first time. Being popular was too important and I forced myself to pick Nancy. I tried so hard to make her you," she gulped as his left hand cupped her cheek. His thumb rubbed her cheek, and she hated that she felt herself melting into it. "No one could be you."

Y/N collected herself and pushed him off.

"That doesn't make sense!" She argued, her skin was growing hot. "You have these huge feelings for me? I put myself out there for you! I asked you to the dance and you rejected me way crueler than I could have imagined. Now that you lost your title and realized you peaked in high school, now you want me? Now I'm safe to go after? You haven't changed. You are still shallow and selfish." Her words didn't deflect Steve. Her angry body was toe to toe with him, she breathed heavily but all he could focus on was how close her lips were to his.

"I can't change the past, Y/N. If I could, I would in a second. But please at least give us a chance. What if we could be really good together? I know you still have feelings for me. Here's another chance for both of us to see where these feelings can take us."

"How the fuck do you know what I feel? You don't know me."

"You wouldn't have spent years hating me if you didn't still want me." He said a smug look on his face that she wanted to smack off. "You wouldn't still be standing here, trying to deny me if you didn't like me. It would have been easy to leave me here, but it's hard isn't it? A part of you wants me to suffer, which I understand and deserve. But what does the other part of you say?"

She bit her tongue as she thought. She knew everything he said was right. Her pride wants to leave him in this bedroom alone. But he followed his pride and it left him hurt. If she followed her pride, wouldn't she have the same outcome?

"The other part," she started, holding herself in her arms, "doesn't want to let you go for a second time." She admitted she looked down at their shoes. She could feel water in her eyes but she tried to keep it back. "I already know what life is like hating you," she looked up. He was hanging on to every word, his lips parted as he waited. "And my stupid heart wants to know what it's like to love you." A tear slipped and she wiped it away before it fell. "I hate that I want you."

She sniffled, and Steve quickly held her face in his hands. He leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes as he felt her breath hitting his lips.

"Let me heal you. I can fix this for us." He promised. She closed her eyes as more tears fell. "I'm sorry, so sorry."

Before she could say anything, she felt lips against hers. She sighed at how soft his lips felt, but how strong the kiss was. It made her breathless. She tangled her hands in his hair as she let herself go. She'd wanted this since she was sixteen, she needed to go for it.

Kissing Steve was better than she ever dreamed. His hands moved down to her waist, pushing her further against him. The kiss grew hot and heavy as they desperately clung to each other.

Y/N would always have that soft spot for Steve.

[gumiluver]

SIN FOR ME ~ JJK NSFW SCENARIOS

synopsis: jjk men as the seven deadly sins <3

cover pic credit: chaeeunn2 on pintrest

lovers <3: afab!reader, gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, fushiguro/zen’in toji, ryomen sukuna, okkotsu yuta, kamo choso

byr/byi: the content in this fic is not suitable for individuals under the age of 18, minors please do not interact

cw: nsfw, rough sex (all lovers <3), manhandling (satoru, sukuna, choso), squirting (suguru, toji, choso), choking (sukuna), dacryphilia (suguru), breeding kink (suguru, kento), cunnilingus (toji, yuta, choso), daddy kink (toji), pussy slapping (sukuna ofc), thigh slapping (yuta), overstimulation (suguru, toji, choso), light bondage (yuta)

✧༺♥༻✧ ✧༺♥༻✧ ✧༺♥༻✧

SATORU -> PRIDE 🖤

Gojo Satoru, better known as ‘the worlds strongest,’ is not a very humble man, to say the least. His ego can get the best of him at times, but that’s part of his charm—being a prideful bastard, that is.

To be fair, it is well earned—you don’t get that type of recognition just for fun after all. His natural aptitude towards cursed energy along with his enhanced physical prowess make him an unstoppable force, and he makes sure to own up to his title of ‘being the best’ by proving it to you nightly, even if you already acknowledge him as such.

But what he truly yearns for is to hear your little cockdrunk praises, to see you become enamored with the way he’s making you feel. He loves hearing those little thoughtless babbles of praise and those helpless begs that fall from your salacious mouth. It all just feeds into his pride and makes him ache for more.

“o-ohh my—fuck,” you moan, arching your lower back as satoru presses his tip against your soaked pussy. He guides it along your folds, gathering your essence and coating his cock with your slick. He snickers, already loving how much of an effect he has on you, “this wet for me already, princess? haven’t even started playin’ with ya yet.”

He really can’t help himself when given the opportunity to tease you, loving the way you get all red and embarrassed when he points out just how much you obviously want him. You’ll try and deny it too, but how could you deny something—someone—that makes your princess pussy gush like fucking crazy? You shake your head, flushing at his accusation while averting his piercing gaze.

“Ah ah ah, pretty girl. Eyes on me. Want you to watch my cock sink into this pussy,” he tsks, pinning your hips down with his one hand to ensure you won’t squirm away from him as he brings his other to grip the back of your neck. He angles your neck downward, making sure that you have the perfect view of him taking what’s his, and the cry that escapes your mouth once he bottoms out makes his tip leak ridiculously inside you.

But Satoru knows better, he knows when his pretty pillow princess is holding out on him—and he is not pleased by your restraint.

“I know for a fact you can be a hell of a lot louder than that, princess. What’s got ya all shy now, huh?” he taunts, starting up a moderately fast pace that invades your warm, plush walls. He releases the grip he has on the nape of your neck and the side of your hip to travel down towards your pussy, quickly positioning his thumb above your sensitive clit while his other hand presses against your lower tummy, effectively making you squeeze around his cock as he starts to rearrange your guts with a newfound, vigorous pace.

“AAHH!!” you cry, completely surprised by the sudden burst of pleasure that courses through your body. You feel your mind short-circuit from the sharp intrusion of his cock fucking up into your cervix, all the while he ruthlessly rubs against your small clit. The way he massages your womb with his hand as he meets each of his thrust makes you constrict around his cock with a vice-like grip. He can feel you squeeze him for all his worth, and he can’t help but fuck into you harder and faster—hoping to mold the shape of his cock forever into your beautiful pussy.

“ohfuckohfuckohfuckkkk—toruuuu!! ‘s so goooood!!” you cry loudly. All prior thoughts having left your mind as you become reduced to nothing but a needy little cockdrunk slut that would do anything for him—the only man who’s been able to make you lose your morals for the sake of pleasure.

“Thaaaat’s it—squeeze my cock juuust like that, princess. Take it all in and make me proud,”

SUGURU -> GREED 🖤

Everything about Suguru makes him a dangerous man. His technique, his intelligence, his energy, his charisma—it all aids in his natural greed that makes him want to take, take, take.

His hunger to have and own everything and anything makes him an insatiable lover. He wants to see you writhe away from him, overwhelmed by his greedy little appetite—but what truly makes him dangerous is just how turned on he gets from slutting your pussy out to his cock. He just can’t seem to get enough of the way your pussy fucking milks his cock like none other.

Just the thought of expending all of your energy—and then some—makes his dick ache with pain. He’ll even overstimulate himself by continuously pumping into you even after cumming inside you, just to make sure he’s got you completely fucked out for him.

“More,” suguru demands, “need you to cum more fr’ me baby, need you to fucking make a mess,” he says as he rubs your clit faster and thrust his fingers up into your core deeper. A pained squeal leaves your lips as your hand shoots down to try and stop suguru from overstimulating you further, too fucked out to give him another orgasm.

“s-sugu’ baby pleaseee, m’ so sensitive!! n-no more, can’t take no more baby plea-mphh!!” your cries suddenly being interrupted by his tongue shoving itself into your mouth. You groan loudly in the kiss, making suguru smirk at how easy it is to get you to fold for him.

But still, he’s not completely satisfied—yet.

He needs to make sure that you’re his; undoubtably and irrevocably, his. He’s greedy enough to mark your skin up, to attack your neck with an onslaught of bites and licks that leave hickeys across your décolletage.

But now he needs to take what’s his. He needs to breed his pussy and claim it as his.

And what’s even more twisted is how easy it would be to take you as his, to simply stuff his fat dick in your tiny hole and to paint your walls white with his thick cum. Just the thought of having you wherever or whenever he wanted makes him quickly remove his fingers from your tight pussy and mindlessly shove his massive length inside of you with one. harsh. thrust.

And the scream you let out is like music to his ears.

He coos at you, hushing your whimpers with gentle kisses along your face. He licks the tears that fall down the fat of your cheeks and groans at the taste. He knows he’s big, but he loves how much you struggle to take him—the little tears are just an added ego boost for him.

But despite his attempt to ground you back to him you can’t help the white flash of pure ecstasy that overwhelms your body and takes over your brain, forcing you to squirt out an early orgasm all over his thick shaft.

And this is when he truly realizes that you will forever remain as his, and his alone. The way your pussy squirts as if she were cryin’ for him, how she grips his shaft ridiculously tight as if she were begging him to stay inside, and how she fucking sings to him as he pounds his fat cock into her, the loud *squelch squelch squelch* overtaking your moans, making geto lose his sanity for good.

“You’re mine, and no one else can have you, understand me, pretty girl?”

KENTO -> ENVY 🖤

Interestingly, Nanami only exemplifies his envy when he fucks you. It’s not like he means to let his envy of others get the best of him, all he wants to do is give you the most perfect life.

The second he laid his eyes on you he could tell that his need for you would be unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. He just had to claim you as his before anyone else could.

He would never admit this to you, but his envy is what made him decide that he wanted you to be his pretty little housewife. He noticed how his fellow colleagues were already fathers of their own, and saw how content their lives were and wanted to replicate that same feeling with you. What better way to do so than actually having you be his housewife?

“Look at what you do to me, look at how much control you have over me baby,” kento grunts, aggressively palming his angry cock in front of you. You whine and squeeze your thighs together, trying to alleviate the ache that settles in your cunt, but failing helplessly.

You really weren’t sure as to what exactly got him so worked up—all you did was cook him his favorite dinner! You knew he was having a hard day at work, and since you had the day off you thought he’d enjoy coming home to a comfy home and yummy meal.

But, it just so happens that today—of all days—half of the staff decided to take off early for the upcoming holidays, no doubt to be with their little spouses and children, which meant that he had to pick up three times the amount of sorcery work than normal.

And you knew how much he despised working overtime.

So when he comes home to see your cute form bent in front of the kitchen table, ass beautifully on display for him to ogle at while you carefully arrange the dinner plates—he fucking loses it.

And now, he’s got you right where he wants you—pressed in a mean mating press that makes your thighs burn and cunt drip with excitement. He lines his red tip up to your sweet pussy and slowly inches his cock inside you, savoring the pleasure-filled whimpers and cries that fall from your lips.

“mmmm, fuck baby—take me so good,” he praises, pushing your calves up and onto his shoulders so he can fully bottom out in you.

And in this position, all that you can do is just take it, and he doesn’t want to hear a single complaint fall from your lips. You’ll be his good girl for the night, won’t you?

“Think it’s time you gave me a little one—what do you say, love? Ready to be a mommy?”

TOJI -> GLUTTONY 🖤

Toji can never get enough of anything—money, alcohol, gambling, sex— there’s never been such a thing as “too much” in his dictionary.

He has a particularly ravenous appetite, especially when it deals with you and your sweet little cries of pleasure—he just can’t get enough of ‘em. The way your cries feed his hunger and how your pussy expertly milks his cock makes him loose his mind and indulge in his gluttonous tendencies.

Will never let you have just one orgasm. He has to rip multiple orgasms out of you, or else he won’t be satisfied. Even if you’re overstimulated and begging for him to stop—telling him that it’s too much or that you’re too sensitive, he’ll purposefully pump his hips harder and faster to get you to squeeze around him even more.

“How many times was that now doll, five?” he questioned, barely even breaking a sweat from the rigorous pounding he’s been giving you. His thick cock is pressed deeply inside your womb, pushing up to that soft gummy spot that he knows makes you a whiny mess.

And you? You can barely even feel yourself, let alone think about how good his thick shaft feels inside you. You swear it’s been eons since he’s given you a break, and your cunt is about to explode from all the stimulation if you don’t get one soon.

“D-daddy please! ‘s too much fr’ me!” you plea, but your cries fall on deaf ears as he wraps his hand around your neck, applying light pressure to the sides to further stimulate your sense of touch, forcing you to only focus on the pleasure he’s making you feel.

“Too much? Sorry, don’t know what that means doll,” he mocks, laughing deviously as he quickens his thrusts and assaults your pussy with demon-like strength. Your voice is bouncing off the walls, getting higher and higher in pitch as you reach your sixth orgasm of the night.

But it was all too much! You couldn’t control the orgasm that rips out of you and the absolute mess you’re making from squirting all over him. A loud groan emits from Toji as he watches your poor pussy spray all over his toned pelvis and thighs. Your cunt involuntarily constricts around his fat cock so tightly that it pushes his cock out, and he’s quick to replace it with his filthy mouth.

He’s relentless, truly relentless. He starts to suck on your already sensitive clit, pinning your hips down to the bed so you can’t squirm away from him. He won’t even let you take a sip of water if it meant leaving your sweet pussy; so he makes sure to take his time with your cunt, eating up every single ounce of your essence that he becomes hypnotized by your sweet ambrosia.

“Mmmm—ya taste like fuckin’ candy, doll. And ya not goin’ anywhere ‘till I get my fill,”

SUKUNA -> WRATH 🖤

Wrath itself is a complex emotion that often gets a bad rap, but Sukuna’s wrath ignites a warmth throughout your body that makes you feel alive and him passionate.

And when that same wrath bleeds into the most intimate of moments, he just can’t help but mix a bit of pain with pleasure.

Sex is where he can be his true self, take all his rage and anger and change it into a passion that makes you succumb to him without much thought. It’s almost like he holds all his rage in just to take it out on your pussy—and to be fair, you’re not complaining one bit.

“Too deep for ya? Is that why you’re crying so much, little one? Awww—too bad,” he coos at you, feigning sympathy as he continues to piston his hips against the fat of your ass, forcing his thick cock inside of your plush walls at an unreasonable speed and depth that makes you see start.

“ah! ah! ah! ‘k-kuna!!” you cry, each moan punctuated by a single thrust of his hips, the force of him rocking his cock inside you takes your breath away and leaves you aching for more. He has you bent over in front of him, plump ass on display while he pushes your back into a wicked arch. Cute little dimples adorn your lower back that he can’t help but press his thumbs into, further pushing you down and making you take every inch of his thick shaft. You feel your pussy latch onto his cock as if it were it’s life source, your knuckles turning white as you grip the pillow in front of you and shove your face in it to quiet your whorish screams of pleasure.

He growls, displeased at your attempts at hiding just how good he was making you feel. How dare you try to conceal how good your king makes you feel? He’s quick to grasp your hair, gripping at the base and lifting you upwards. You belt out a cry of pain, the sudden jolt of being pulled upward by your hair while he holds you tightly across your tummy makes you feel so disoriented, he has to give your pussy a few smacks to get your attention back to him, “if I have to stop what I’m doing again to make sure you don’t hide your pathetic pleas, you won’t be able to walk for a whole fucking week,”

He stills inside of you, impaling his monstrous cock deeper and deeper until it feels like he’s in your fucking throat. You know he’s waiting for you to respond, but he’s way too deep in your guts to even let the gasp of air out that you’ve been holding in your lungs. You start to shake around him helplessly, and he can’t help but laugh at how pitifully small you are to him—how easy it is to make you a submissive little whore, “awww what is it little one, cat got your tongue?”

His laugh bellows throughout his kingdom as he continues his attack on your pussy, gripping your throat now as he angles his hips upwards to piston his cock so deep inside you that it inadvertently silences your pretty moans.

And he does not appreciate that one bit.

“I told you not to hide your moans from your king. Now, you’re gonna take your punishment like a good slut—or else,”

YUTA -> LUST 🖤

Yuta’s always been dedicated to your pleasure—so much so that he refuses to acknowledge his own needs until you fall apart on his mouth and fingers.

He’ll take his sweet time with foreplay too, the longest time ever being an hour of him between your legs, making out with your pussy and fingering you to oblivion.

Absolutely despises it when you try and push him away—how could you deprive him of you, his most prized possession? If he even suspects that you’ll try and push him away from your pretty pussy, he’ll make sure to take some…preventative measures.

“Mmmm—what a pretty sight,” Yuta moans, palming himself through his jeans as he watches you try and wiggle out of the restraints. He’s got your wrists handcuffed above you, woven between the headboard to ensure you don’t squirm away while he has his fun.

You couldn’t help the pathetic whine that escapes your lips, wanting to break free from the cuffs so you could just touch him already, “yuta pleaseee! just wanna touch youuu~”

He coos at you, sympathetic towards your needs; after all, he’d beg too if he were in your position,“Not yet baby, need you to stay nice and still for me alright? Can you do that for me, lovey?”

He watches you nod your head, melting at the little pout that you give him when he starts to strip. Wide, eager eyes follow his movement, and you take note of his thick cock straining heavily against his boxers—just begging to be touched. You clench your thighs together as he walks towards you, settling himself between your thighs to face your vulnerable form. He’s grinning wickedly, gripping a thigh in each hand as he hoists your thighs over his shoulders—granting perfect access to your slick pussy.

“Already so wet fr’ me baby, gotta have a taste first,” he mumbles, trailing gentle kisses from your inner thigh up to where your cute little clit is hiding. His warm breath over your cunt makes you squirm in his arms, earning yourself a smack towards your inner thigh.

“That’s the only warning you get, so behave,” he scolds, wanting to enjoy the moment shared between him and your angelic pussy. You yelp at the harsh sting of his palm, and the sight of your pussy quivering makes Yuta indulge in his lust, tenfold.

“Keep your eyes on me love, want you to watch how wet this pussy gets fr’ me,”

CHOSO -> SLOTH 🖤

Choso is sloppy. Not in a way that makes him annoying or an inconvenience; oh no—he’s sloppy because of how obsessed he gets, especially when dealing with your pussy and with how messy you get.

He always takes his time with you, giving languid and lazy licks that make your cunt flutter ridiculously from the pressure his tongue provides. He doesn’t even tell you to sit on his face anymore, opting to simply hoist your naked hips above his face and plops you straight onto his awaiting tongue—loving how easy it is to access your slick and maneuver your hips.

Makes you cum super quick. Like, unreasonably quick. He’ll just keep going and going and going until you soak the sheets, reveling at the way your sweet cunny gushes for him.

“aahh- m’ g-gonna make a mess, chosoooo!!!” You cry loudly, unable to control the slick that squirts out from your pussy. He quickens his thrusts up into your pussy while rubbing your clit at the same, consistent pace but with much more pressure, much more vigor, and much more persistence. The black spots that start to sneak up in your vision a clear indication of your body losing its battle between pleasure and pain, slowly draining you of air as you start to pant heavily.

“Ughhhh fuckkk yessss love, that’s ittt!! Love when ya fuckin squirt on me like that, such a messy little slut fr’ me,” he groans loudly, fucking up into your pussy even harder by slamming your hips down with his other hand as you swivel your hips in circles. His tip rubs up into that spongy spot that makes intense pleasure shoot down from your head to your toes and inadvertently makes you squelch out even more jets of your essence as he keeps giving you powerfully sharp thrusts.

At this point—you’re long gone, you’ve ascended to heavens beyond this reality as choso continues to guide you through another soaking orgasm. Your breathing is unsteady, and you feel your head start to get dizzy over his persistent thrusts and his gentle rubs on your pulsating cunt. You’re shaking and shivering, whining and crying for him to ‘ease up’, to let you take a breather from all this pleasure.

Thankfully, choso is known to be a generous man that would do anything for his beloved. You feel him slow his thrusts down to a slower pace, lifting his upper body up to kiss your as he trails a hand to the nape of your neck. He holds your waist steady with his other hand and rubs it gently up and down your side, effectively grounding yourself back to him from almost losing consciousness.

But this time, choso had…other plans.

Once he feels you relax around his cock, he starts gyrating his hips up against yours again. A whimper escapes your lips as you try to squirm away from him. He chuckles, planting both his hands firmly on your waist and pushes you further down onto his cock. Your eyes shoot open and your back arches at just how deep his cock is reaching you, it felt like he was trying to fuck up into your cervix—the pleasure just too much for your poor pussy to handle.

And suddenly, he lifts your hips up and completely moves you off of his cock. The abrupt removal of his cock from your warmth makes you whimper from the lack of contact, feeling completely empty.

“Don’t look so sad baby, you’ll love this part,” he says, a tinge of playfulness laced in his words as he positions himself to lay flat on the bed. Before you can even question his intent, he picks you back up by your hips and places you smack down on his chest—princess pussy on perfect display for him.

In this position, choso can have as much fun as he wanted without having to overstimulate himself or overwork your body—to an extent, that is.

Your protests fall on deaf ears as he pushes you closer up to his face, and from the way he looks at you it makes you fall silent from sheer submission. He’s completely fixated on you, a vicious darkness clouded his eyes, daring you to question his authority in this very moment—right as he’s about to have his fill of you.

“Don’t try and run now, love. Come and ride my fuckin’ face,”

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a/n: ahhhh I hope you guys liked this one!! I’m not really too sure how I did on this haha, I’d love to know what y’all think!! I also tried to format my blog a bit so now it should be easier to access some of my other works! 🥰

Likes, comments, follows, reblogs, and any other form of interaction is greatly appreciated <3 #supportcreators

[slimepuparibaba]

LnDS HCs: Sylus (General HCs)

HI! I HAVE TOO MANY HEADCANONS FOR SYLUS SO PLEASE TAKE THEM!! THEY WILL DEFO NOT BE ACCURATE COME JULY BUT STILL IM USING WHAT SCRAPS OF INFO I HAVE RN AND IF HE TURNS OUT LIKE THIS APOLLO GAVE ME THE GIFT OF PROPHECY

IF THIS IS INACCURATE I WILL COMMIT CHAPTER 4 OKOK

GENERAL HC DUMP / PREDICTIONS (MAYBE DONT COUNT ON IT)

Okay, we all agree he comes off as the type of guy that would burn the world for you.

BUT!

Big but here.

I don't think he's a terrible boyfriend or anything. In fact, he genuinely does love you.

I believe, me personally, you are the one weakness this man has and he will treat you with care. Is the way he treats you rough around the edges and comes off a little different than most? Yes.

But he won't ever actually hurt you. He watches you from afar like a silent protector to make sure you aren't hurt, even using his Evol to make sure you STAY alive.

I personally think he might actually treat you kinda like one of his men, like an equal in terms of "you can definitely handle yourself and I know you're strong", but he'll still keep an eye on you just because you're that important to him. He trusts you.

...okay, so like, maybe not completely trust you because let's be honest here, you're kiiiinda prone to trying dumb shit on him, but it's funny. He'll forgive it. The smug bastard.

From what I've seen, he comes off cool, suave, knows what he's doing. Cocky.

Bad boy. He's a bad boy in all sense of the word.

He knows what he's doing, he's confident, he's charming. Knows what to say and do. He's also a CEO so dealing with people? Basically easy for him.

When it comes to you? He will flirt. Because he likes getting a reaction out of you.

I bet he teases you a TON. You hate him? Good. At least you have him in your thoughts.

Love is war with him. You try to scheme? He already has a counter. Man is 100 steps ahead of you, but just likes seeing you make a complete fool of yourself.

You know when he gets the upper hand he'll have that signature smirk of his that just screams "kiss me to shut me up and I'll consider this your win".

You thought Rafayel had an ego? Nah. NAH, THIS DUDE HAS AN E G O.

Sparring sessions with him are very likely. He'd probably be like "alright, but not going easy on you" or something cocky like that with a smug smirk on his face.

Man genuinely treats you as his equal though when training. Teaches you everything he knows and points out some techniques you might be rusty on.

Rizz is off the charts. He's lived in the N109 Zone and breathed it for so long. He's a sweet talker, so be prepared for him to know how to make you melt.

But also, he will actually spoil you. Will he make you work for it? Yes. He will give you an entire runaround (make you say please, make you verbalize it, etc), but he does it because he loves you.

You are genuinely his soft spot, and I CANNOT stress this enough.

The things he does in the dark are things he does FOR YOU. His reason for being REVOLVES around you, you just don't know it yet. Don't let him being the leader of Onichynus get to your head—he has method to his madness.

[jeongharine]

syntax ERROR: the right formula

⚝ wonwoo x reader

⚝ comedy, smut

⚝ notes: you and wonwoo decide to take the thing between you on level two. but no one has to know about it. you would rather die than to have someone figure out about your sexual escapades with the local nerdy fuckboy. it is an ego thing. (part i)

(thanks to everyone who read and liked part one, i’ve never received such an amount of likes for something that i posted <3 i hope you will like this part as well, it is a bit longer but i had a little fun in writing some teasing ooof enjoy it, have a good early summer period and stay safe x)

“can you actually believe that, y/n? he ghosted me for i don’t know three weeks, and then he had the nerve to ask for a tit pic,” nabi sighs, taking a sip from her blue-ish drink.

“you know what? i’m so done with men. all of them. we really ar- are you even listening to me?” 

you are caught off guard by the clicking of her fingers in front of your eyes. truth is, you are only half present, the other half of you is scanning the whole floor, trying to see if there’s a certain someone amongst the agglomeration of bodies. 

“yeah, sure, sorry,” you apologize, leaning your side against the wall. “i was somewhere else for a second. you were saying that he ghosted you?”

“i’m never talking to him again. or any man.” “hm,” you hum, crossing your arms. you actaully don’t know who she is trying to convince at this point, because that must’ve been the fifth time you heard your friend giving you that speech (during that semester alone). 

“really, i don’t know why those guys haven’t been thrown out of the campus yet. they’re a hazard, including your brother from what i’ve heard. sorry. but yeah, they’re a threat to public health,”

you shrug, because honestly you don’t care that much about their business. and that is important to keep it low.

“could be worse, though, i could be one of the poor girls getting fucked by one of them in their spare time,” 

oh. 

you giggle, a little nervous. “yeah, yeah,” you agree, looking back at the mass of students. “yeah, that’d be totally awful.” 

“i couldn’t even count on my fingers the amount of girls that had one night stands with one of them, and somehow proceeded in becoming completely whipped and infatuated, only to be told that they don’t ‘fuck the same person twice’. like… what the fuck is that? who do they think they are? sorry that your brother is involved in this discourse, but he’s kind of a prick,”  

you laugh, noticing the tinge of red that covers her cheeks. “you sound really drunk,” 

“i’m not bullshitting you. they’re pricks and that’s on period,” 

she raises her cup in a silent cheer, and took another sip. “i know you’re not involved in the fuckboy thing that plagues this campus and, honestly, you’re better off that way. but trust me when i say that they aren’t worth the headache,” 

with an inattentive nod, you take another peek at the strangers filling the space near you. “i believe you, don’t worry. i know my thing or two,” 

the worst part? you do. 

and the even worse bit? there are two things wrong with what she has just told you. 

number one: yes, they could be kind of jerks sometimes. but they aren’t completely soulless, at least some of them. they are fun to be around, actually, when picked alone and not in group, or when they are not trying to impress someone into sleeping with them.

number two: they fuck the same person twice, if feeling like it. at least wonwoo. and you know that because you’ve been fucking him on and off for the past five months or so. 

when you first met him, you weren’t exactly after a “secret friends with benefits” relationship. you just needed a math tutor. but long story short, you didn’t expect to fall victim to his charms, melting under his tender kisses, moaning his name as he rolled his hips against you, edging your orgasm for longer than you can hold it. and you surely didn’t expect to like it as much as you do. 

truth is: jeon wonwoo is everything, but he isn’t dumb. he knows that he is attractive and smart as hell - he knows that with his voice so silky and deep just saying the right words is enough to have you in bed with him, and he knows how to use the two things very well. 

apart from also corrupting you in games hours.

also, you are human, alright? and there is something extremely tempting about sleeping with your brother best friend, especially when he keeps coming back to you. it’s only nature to want to feel special every once in a while. 

again: it is an ego thing. 

plus no one ever caught you. not nabi or any of your other friends. as far as you are aware, wonwoo’s group doesn’t know a thing either, which makes you appreciate him even more because you don’t know how hoshi could take this.  

so yeah, he isn’t a total douchebag. he has the most basic sense of loyalty. 

x

with a sigh, you push your body away from the wall, fumbling with your purse. you are praying that- oh there he fucking is. 

the moment that you see wonwoo, sitting on the couch across from you, you forget how to breathe for a moment. 

he looks better than you had anticipated: dressed in all black, with his thighs spread across the seat, ready to be fucked right then and there. his dark long hair is parted in the middle, with a few stubborn strands falling over his angelic features, as his gaze navigates around the room, staring at nothing in particular.

next to him, there is another one of his friends, seokmin, talking about something animatedly but wonwoo is paying no attention. 

his expression is one of irritation, you notice, with his thick eyebrows furrowed, jaw clenching. but when his gaze falls on you, however, wonwoo’s perceived annoyance instantly dissipates. 

you watch as his eyes meet your own, then he trails down your body with desire, stopping around the level of your thighs for a bit longer than you have predicted. 

you know that stare awfully well: it is the same one that he gives you when he sees you around campus, or in the pc-bang when you’re winning or when you actually understand the concepts that he’s teaching you. the silent provocation that tells you, and only you, that he really wants to have some alone time right now. 

a tricky smirk sprouts at the corner of his lips, and he leans back against the couch. you follow his movements as he reaches towards his pocket and extracts his phone, staring at you as he does so. he unlocks it, taking a final glance at your expectant features before he starts to type something.

[00:23] wonu: so glad to see that you came  

[00:23] wonu: will you do me a favour and meet me in the bathroom upstairs? second door to the right ;) 

and what can you do when he’s asking it like this? you take the stairs and you wonder, as you open your way through the crowd of sweaty bodies and spilling drinks, if you aren’t trying too hard to rationalize and catastrophize something that is actually very simple. 

a story with a beginning, a middle part, and a satisfying ending: you two want to fuck each other, you do, then you move right forward. no hidden feelings, no strings attached. that’s it. couldn’t get any better than that. 

but maybe, it isn’t everything about that, and you know it. it is also about overhearing the other girls talking as you make your way upstairs, complaining about how ridiculously hot and pretty he is. it is about having that steamy, trembling secret between the two of you. it is about knowing that yeah, wonwoo is crazy hot and smart and funny and you can have that whenever you want.

x

just like the calm before the storm, there is a moment of quietness and stillness between the instant of when you lock the door, and the one when you see him. 

as you turn around, dwelling in his proximity, you think about a million things at the same time: about teasing him for his location choice, or maybe about how he must’ve been going through a drought, if he has to count on his covert booty call to get laid at a party. 

before you can say anything, wonwoo’s lips are on yours, attacking your mouth in a fervorous kiss. you whimper in surprise as he pushes you against the closed bathroom door, his hands circling your waist as he squeezes your body against his. your purse falls on the ground with a muffled sound, but you barely even notice it. 

it is something else, really. tonight, he’s kissing you as if he physically can’t contain himself long enough to do anything else - as if all that he can think of doing is to feel the heavenly contact of your mouth against his, while your fingers pull strands of his hair.

as he invites his tongue inside your mouth, wonwoo groanes and lowers his hands, squeezing your ass like he is about to lose every last ounce of sanity he has left in him. you sigh as he moves his focus onto your neck, placing open-mouthed kisses. 

“someone’s excited,” you comment, slightly breathless. the only response you get is another groan, and the rolling of his hips against your inner thigh where you can feel his dick, already semi-hard, pressing. 

“couldn’t even bother to take me somewhere else,” 

“i just needed to have you now. have you seen how hot you are?” his voice comes out muffled against your skin, the reverberations of his timbre propagating directly towards your core. 

“i see you’re starting to get more adventurous with this,” you bite down on your lower lip and he sucks your flesh, groping your ass once again. “parties and nights out used to be so off limits to you.” 

wonwoo chuckles against your neck, moving back towards your mouth. he starts making out with you again, his breath hot and heavy against your face, and you start to think how you could very well pass out seen the level of craving building inside of you. 

“i changed my mind.” he speaks as he leans back. 

you smirk at his attitude. “we’ll end up getting caught,” 

“aw, baby,” he pouts, looking at you with artificial pity. “are you afraid your brother is going to find out?”

okay, he can be kind of a prick sometimes. 

“so i can leave, then?” you raise one eyebrow, fingers playing with the hair at the back of his neck. 

“you can, the door is right behind you. you know i’m not one to insist,” wonwoo tells you, quickly losing interest in this part of the conversation. “but something tells me you won’t.” 

you don’t even try to respond, because there is nothing to be said: both of you know what you are doing there, and the idea of walking out is just too ridiculous to consider. 

with a suspire, you watch as wonwoo moves his lips down your chest, stopping at the fabric of your blouse. 

“what if someone hears us?” you suddenly remember, heartbeat quickening at the thought. 

“what is it?” he asks as his fingers work on your buttons, exposing more of your chest. the slow pace of his is going to kill you one of these days. 

“you’re worried that people are going to find out about this? about us? when you’re always begging to be fucked in the room next to your brother’s one or when there’s someone at my dorm?” 

you open your mouth to respond but his chuckle, so deep and melodious, catches you off guard. 

“how scandalous, right? you are not the pure little thing you make yourself to be,” wonwoo continues, finally opening your blouse and fully exposing your bra to him. he hums with delight. “red lace? you really want to tease me,” 

you swallow dry as he takes the blouse off your shoulders and gently places it beside the sink, above a towel. he can be so thoughtful and gentle. 

“wonu, i-“ “you’re such a little brat sometimes, you know that?” he interrupts, eyes following his own movements as his hands circle your body, moving to unclasp your bra. and of course he gets it right on the first try. 

“you came all the way up here just to get fucked, and now you’re worried that people are going to know about it,” you stare him down, a smirk already creeping up in the corner of your lips. 

“how does that make me a brat?” 

he smiles. “don’t try to to play the naive card on me,” another agile movement of his fingers and your bra joins your blouse besides the sink. 

wonwoo sighs deeply at your exposed breasts, trying to imprint that sight into the back of his mind. “pretending as if you don’t know exactly what you’re doing. you can drop the act now, y/n,” “i don’t-“ his mouth attacking you is all that you needed to shut up and let him do what he wants really.

overwhelmed by the sensation, you let out a gasp as his hand squeezes you, playing with you as he moans against your skin. 

“i love it so much,” he hums, moaning at the marvelous sensation of your warm skin against his tongue. you were almost forgetting how much wonwoo aches to play with your tits - not that you are complaining. 

“and i love that it’s all for me,” he breathes out before placing kisses again.

you whimper at the contact, arching your back in a failed attempt to get closer to him. as much as you know he is most likely to just say whatever he thinks would turn you on, wonwoo’s words expand inside your chest, building a heat that seems to suffocate you. even if you know it is bullshit, maybe not all of it, you like to be called his. ego strokes and all of that. 

“wonu…” there is only a thin wooden door separating you two from the outside world, and at the moment you can’t care less if they hear you calling out his name. the guy really does wonders to your anxiety. 

but he also likes to tease you. 

he moves away from your breasts and you almost, almost, cry out in frustration. but wonwoo starts to trace kisses back to your neck, then to your jawline. and you feel like you’re going crazy with all that back and forth.

“i’m not gonna lie, i understand where you’re coming from,” he says. “i like to keep this as a secret too. it’s so hot.” 

you almost forget how to inhale when he aligns his face with yours, placing a peck on your swollen lips. “yeah?” you ask, sounding as if you are in a daydream. 

“yeah,” he agrees, breathless. 

even if wonwoo tries his best to look as if he’s under total control, you know that he can’t keep that front for too long. he is clearly turned on, and the hardness pressing against your thigh is all of the proof that you need. he

even if wonwoo tries his best to look as if he’s under total control, you know that he can’t keep that front for too long. he is clearly turned on, and the hardness pressing against your thigh is all of the proof that you need. he’s close to get too worked up.

“it’s so great to know that i have one of the sexiest nerdy girls on campus just for myself…” his hand trails up your thighs, adventuring in the lands beneath your skirt. “and no one knows.”

you bite your lower lip, anticipating the contact of his hand against your core. “what’s so tempting about it?” you ask. 

he smiles. “ah… many things,”

your stare doesn’t vacillate. “i’d like an example,” 

instead of answering you straight away, wonwoo decides to take his sweet time. he leans his head to the side and kisses you feverishly, growing satisfied with the the small whimpers and breaths that echoes in between your mouths. his hands are all over you: on your ass, your waist, down your thighs and up your hips, where his eyes can not see. you only have your skirt and your panties on, and it is so frustrating to still feel him fully dressed against you. 

at last, he pulls away, placing his forehead against yours. as he speaks, you feel the tingle of his hands as they move towards the hem of your panties. 

“i like seeing you walk around campus, knowing that you’re sore from the night before,” he speaks slowly, his voice in a low vibration against your mouth. “and i know you don’t tell any of your friends about it. about how i fucked you so good that you almost cried,” 

you hum, closing your eyes. “what else?”

much to your dismay, his hands leave your underwear again, coming out to pull you closer. “when you send me those audios late at night,” he’s breathing out hard then, drowning in those lewd memories. “crying out my name… ” he stops and takes a big breath. “how am i supposed to say no to that? so there i go, out the door, telling your brother that i’m going to the library to study, instead of saying that i’m going to see his crazy hot sister and that i’m going to fuck her…” he hesitates. “and i just get this… adrenaline rush because he and my other friends don’t know it’s you.” 

“and how do you know that i like any of it?” you tease. 

wonwoo snickers at your question. both of you know that it is plastered all over your face, but he can keep up with that little teasing if you want to. 

“two reasons,” he says. “first: you do the same to me, or don’t you?” 

“i don’t recall,” you respond, forging innocence. okay, maybe you do like to play the naive part. 

“oh no? what a terrible memory you have, i see why you do badly in exams when you don’t study with me. now, let me remind you,” he places a strand of your hair behind your ear, his words hitting your skin in heated, libidinous waves. wonwoo is so close that you can count his eyelashes if you want to, his torso squeezed so tight against yours that you wonder how you even manage to breathe in this position. 

“it was just last week, babe. you called me to your flat after your roommate had left,” one of his hands goes back to play with the hem of your underwear, fingertips feeling like sparks against your skin. 

“you got so horny with just the thought of having me, isn’t that right?” much to your surprise, your voice comes out a lot more steady than you have expected. “don’t flatter yourself, you don’t know that.”

wonwoo laughs, placing his warm, swollen lips against the skin of your neck. “i don’t,” he agrees, digits pressing against your clothed area. 

you know he feels how wet your panties have become, so there’s no reason to keep that up. regardless, you kind of like it. 

“but i do remember how much you wanted me that night. how many times did i fuck you that night? and you just had to keep quiet, because your neighbours could have been catching something. that was so cute,” 

you sigh, your insides in knots over the tension you are sustaining. you hate him sometimes. hate how good he is. “i wasn’t counting.” 

“i know,” he swiftly pulls the fabric of your underwear to the side. 

“and this right here, this is the second reason. look at this,” his digits move, teasing you and you have to suppress a moan. “you’re always ready. i love that. you’re so good to me.” 

god, you are so close to lose it.

“so quiet all of a sudden,” his nose delicately trails up your neck, his mouth meeting the angle of your jaw in open kisses. in an attempt to ground yourself, your hands fly to his shoulders, nails digging through his t-shirt. you can still feel wonwoo’s fingers playing. you hate him. or not. you don’t know. 

“i know i leave you speechless, sometimes, but i wan to hear you too,” 

strong and steady, his other hand meets the curvature of your waist, pressing your body against his.

“nothing? y/n, you’re especially irresistible tonight,” his eyes are somewhat dazed, unfocused and hooded. he appears as if he’s two seconds away from fucking you raw against the wall, and you seriously wouldn’t mind at this point. 

“you know why i called you here?” “because you want to fuck me,” you respond without missing a beat. 

“i do, of course,” he places his forehead against yours, and you whimper. 

“and the best part is that no one will even know it,” he continues. against your best judgement, your knees are getting weaker by the minute, the knot in your abdomen about to untie.

“just you and i. just the two of us will know how much you begged.” 

“wonu,” you call out, hands tangling themselves in the roots of his silky hair. you whisper out his name again, your voice coming out in such a promiscuous tone. 

god, wonwoo loves hearing the effect he has on you. 

x

maybe jeon wonwoo does also have a golden dick. 

above you, he smirks at the sensation of your mouth around his thumb, his other hand coming to place small caresses on your hair. after he removes his thumb from your mouth, you get back to your feet. it swiftly crosses your mind that your legs might give out eventually but, thankfully, they seem a bit more firm than what you have anticipated. 

“better?” you ask. 

“perfect.” wonwoo kisses you, sighing against your mouth. he pulls away gradually, his body still moving a bit slow.

“you always are.” 

“aw, how nice of you,” you smile at his compliment, walking towards your pile of clothes. “always with the compliments.” 

he hums in agreement, watching your naked body - your fingers holding that red bra he adores so much. “do we have any lesson programmed this week?” 

an incredulous laugh ruptures your lips as you clasp your bra behind your back. 

“we just had sex, and you’re already thinking about studying time?” 

he shruggs. “i like to have a schedule,” 

“i don’t actually remember, but we can game at mine wednesday,” your skirt moves up your legs, all the way up to your waistline. from the corner of your eyes, you can see wonwoo fumbling with his own jeans, which he now curses for being inside out. 

“can you pass me some toilet paper?” you ask him, eager to clean the mess between your legs. there’s no way you are going to put your panties back on, even if the thought of going commando isn’t exactly the most welcoming either. 

wonwoo is sitting on the toilet lid, putting his jeans back, and simply nods in agreement before doing so. “i’d like to know, though,” he insists.

you smile, taking a cheeky glance at him. “oh, so you are needy. since when you’re so needy?” 

he groans. “i’m not needy, shut up.” the sound of his zipper closing echoes inside the cubicle. 

“well, you can have this as a memory, if you’d like.” 

you throw your red panties at him, watching as his face grows interested at the piece of cloth in his hands. wonwoo sighs, tugging his t-shirt back inside his pants. 

“you’re killing me,” he complains. “good.” you smile, turning back at him. “how do i look? presentable?” 

he examins you for an instant, taking in the details of your form. “it doesn’t look like you just got fucked, if that’s what you’re asking,” 

“great!” you swirl around, “have a nice night, wonu. and don’t get too excited with the panties,” 

wonwoo gets up and walks closer to you, your underwear safely guarded in his hands. you are positive he’s going to have fun with it later. “you’re going home already?” he asks. 

“yeah, you did a good job at making me tired,” the clicking of the lock is a pleasant reminder that no one tried to open the door during your alone time.

wonwoo chuckles, leaning closer to you and he places a kiss on your forehead. 

“good night, then. thanks for the panties,” you laugh. “you’re welcome.” 

x

the building is glowing in the most diverse colours from the outside, and the sound of the music is like a distant pulse.

you watch, heart clenching inside of your chest, as wonwoo steps out of the front door with hoshi and seokmin - his head hanging low and a smile at the corner of his lips. 

there is a volume in his front pocket, where you are sure he has tugged in your panties.

“i think that we should go home and sleep. but let’s keep this conversation on hold,” wonwoo cuts off the conversation. seokmin, however, isn’t satisfied. 

“you know that i’ll find out eventually,” he says, trying not to trip while walking. 

“i always do. and hoshi knows it well.” 

hoshi laughs, meeting wonwoo’s eyes. on the other side of the street, you and nabi take the opposite direction, having wonwoo to turn his head quickly at you. 

“wonu-yah, i think you should give those lacy panties hanging off your pocket back to my sister tomorrow,”

“what-” “oh fuck!” a tomato red face wonwoo grabs them, while seokmin trips and nearly cries out loud in the middle of the street.

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

dress - m. murdock

a/n: i am not proud of this in the way that i will not be claiming it when i am judged by god. warnings: SMUT like real sex!!! dom!matt, p in v smut, matt has a thing for talking in bed, MATT BEING A TEASE!!! many nicknames, pining, praise with slight degradation, fluff here and there, tipsy reader and matt, i'm sure i'm missing one or two word count: 3.3k summary: ten months of yearning wears you and matt down to desperation. pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader now playing: dress - taylor swift "say my name and everything just stops/i dont want you like a best friend/only bought this dress so you could take it off."

Foggy is so mad at him.

You’re a good employee, a great employee even! You’re dedicated to your job, and you bake in your free time, so you bring in all sorts of treats—Homemade bagels, donuts, cookies—His favorite are your cinnamon chai sugar cookies you make.

You’re intelligent, well-spoken, and good at explaining the issues that you run into. And you’re funny, Foggy would argue, you have incredible timing and wit. You always buy a round at Josies. You are an amazing employee and friend, and Foggy adores you.

So why, pray tell, must Matt feel the need to have you?

He won’t say it out loud, not to Karen, not to Maggie, not to Foggy, and certainly not you. But he’s entranced by you. He loves the sound of your voice as you explain things, he loves that your heart always skips a beat whenever you’re about to deliver a one liner that will crack everyone else up, he loves that when you bake, you always make things all naturally out of desire to make the best dessert you possibly can. But most of all?

He loves that your heart rate picks up whenever he enters the room.

You, on the other hand, are pretty much fascinated by Matt Murdock. You love the sound of his laughter, you love his hands, you love his charm, you love that you can see a chain around his neck when the day dwindles and he loosens his tie, and Jesus H Christ, you love that baritone.

So, it’s safe to say you’ve both been smitten since the first day you met each other.

Yet, you spend ten months cruelly dancing around your attraction for each other.

He’s hesitant to want you in any context, he’s your boss, he’s fucking Daredevil!

By then you know—Mostly accidentally on purpose. All his usual people are out of town or busy, so when he gets stabbed, he has nowhere else to go. He winds up climbing into your window, scaring the ever-living shit out of you. It’s not how he wanted to tell you about his alter ego, but he knows he can trust you.

And you hate the site of blood and gore, so you struggle to patch him up that night. And it makes your heart ache, all the ways he hurts from his nighttime hobby. And he decides right then and there that he can’t have you, not now. Not knowing how much you would—and really, will—worry about him.

So, he buries his want in other people that have no real meaning to him. He even goes on a second date with some of them. One of them even comes to visit him in the office to have lunch.

It makes you jealous to the point where you need to take a walk to dwindle your desire to go back into the office and beg on your hands and knees for her to leave so you can have him. What happens instead is that you go get a pumpkin chai latte and take it back to the office, sitting and keeping to yourself, even when the girl comes out of his office giggling as he stands in the doorway as she leaves.

He smells the pumpkin from his office, and it drives him wild. Just from how quietly you dwell in your jealousy, as you mask it with your favorite fall flavors.

He breaks up with the girl the next day.

• • •

And a week later, he gets his official invitation to Marci and Foggy’s wedding—A big to do, full of family, friends and coworkers that make it a real party. Matt will be Foggy’s best man. You and Karen aren’t in the wedding party, as you were good friends with both the bride and groom, but Karen wanted to make sure at least one of them was focused on the firm, and you hated to be the center of attention. So, you shared your love from a few aisles back.

You had gone shopping with Marci for your dress, Karen too. You enjoyed spending time with them—While you had made friends with them easily, prior friends had never really come easy to you.

It was nice to be wanted.

But they had insisted on you trying to find different dresses that made you look amazing. And for the most part, the dresses made you sort of uncomfortable. They revealed too much or revealed too little.

And then you came across this red satin dress. It hugs your curves in all the right way, and it makes you look good. It makes you feel good. You have these perfect black heels to wear with them, and then Karen says it.

“You know, Matt kind of has a thing about textures. He loves silk and satin.” Your face burns. Of course, he does. Why wouldn’t he? He can hear people's heartbeats, tell when they’re lying, why wouldn’t he be keen on nice textures?

“Karen Page, are you insisting I should by this dress to impress a man?” You laugh just to escape your nerves.

“No! But it can’t hurt! It’s not like he’s bringing a date—” She turns to Marci. “He’s not bringing a date, right?” she asks quickly. It makes her laugh.

“No, Murdock RVSP’ed for one.”  You look at yourself in the mirror again, thinking it over. And over. And over. Then you turn to your friends again, and nod.

“Alright. Alright, I’ll get it.” You grin, “And y’know.. Karen’s right, It can’t make the situation any worse.”

“You know what you need now? Good lingerie for after—” Your face is red again at your friend’s comment.

“Shut up, Marci!” You whine, heading back to the dressing room to get changed.

• • •

Matt is sitting with Foggy and his brothers, enjoying a glass of scotch before the ceremony when someone knocks on the door.

And somehow, he’s not shocked to hear your nervous heartbeat when the door opens.

“Hey Fog, Karen said you had scissors—Can I borrow ‘em quick? There’s a tag on this dress I forgot to take off and it’s impossible to reach—”

“Yes, Absolutely, and you know who would be great at helping you? Matt. An incredible knack for… Cutting things.” It’s a poor attempt to get the two of you alone, yet Foggy hands you the scissors and pushes you and Matt outside the room.

“My rooms only two doors down.” He explains, taking your hand in his and leading you there.

After finding out about his super senses, it became clear that he was more than capable of finding his way through places he’s stayed, and that he’s privy to a lot more information than people would give him credit for.

So here you are. In Matt Murdock’s hotel room. A tag itching at your back, with you unable to grab it.

“I’m just gonna—” He awkwardly reaches to the top of your dress, and you just move the hair from your neck and try to ease his anxiety.

“Just go for it, Matt. I don’t care, it’s just annoying.” You promise. And he does.

He folds the top of your dress the best he can and its only enough for the scissors to almost grab the tag without him sticking his hand down your dress. He hesitates for a second before exhaling deeply.

Then, he leans down towards your back, and scrunches the material enough so that he can reach the tag and bites the tag off.

You can feel his other hand on your hip. His hot breath on your back. He hears your heart jump as your breath becomes shaky. He wonders how bad it would be for him to skip the wedding and take you right here, in this room.

He plucks the tag from his teeth and smooths out your dress, as you let go of your hair. He feels this raw need for you.

And you feel it too. Yet he pulls away, taking a step back from you.

“We should get to the ceremony.” he said, trying to catch his breath. He yearns for you, in a way that anyone else would laugh at. It’s the type of yearning you read about in Jane Austen novels. That is the level that Matt longs to touch you. It’s desperation.

“Yeah...” You say softly, trying to recover from what just happened. You drop him back off at Foggy’s suite and head back to the hall, hoping to find Karen and put the moment behind you. And that’s just what happens. You watch the ceremony, and it’s gorgeous. You’re thrilled for Marci and Foggy, and it elates you that they put together such a beautiful ceremony.

And yet, you can’t take your eyes off Matt and how good he looks. He stands tall, and he really does look good. It makes it kind of hard to focus. It makes it really hard to focus. And you think about this all the way through their first dance song, through dinner, through cake and through all the cheesy wedding traditions Foggy insisted on.

You have a few drinks but eventually it all becomes too much, and you take a minute outside of the hall and into the cold air. And you’re thinking about Matt.

“You’re gonna catch a cold out here.”

Speak of the devil.

You turn back to him and smile.

“I’ve been thinking about you.” You say, and he hums. It’s the alcohol in both of your systems, it’s why neither of you run when you say it.

“Same goes for you, sweetheart.” He takes off his coat and wraps it around your shoulders. You note the silky texture of the inside of the jacket. It pushes you further.

“Why do we insist on playing this game? Why do we watch each other go after people who we don’t want when all we want is each other?”

He takes a moment to answer. Because in truth, he’s sure he could tell you why, he could discuss all of the horrible things that have happened to him, and you could share the same sort of stories about your own life. You could sit there and dissect past traumas for hours.

But that’s not really what you’re asking.

“I don’t know...” He says softly. His hands find themselves on your hips, and he rubs small circles into the fabric. “Satin?” You hum, melting at his touch. “Words, pretty girl. You know I like hearing your voice.”

“Satin.” You confirm, your breath catching.

“There she is...” He hums, and leans in. You feel his breath against your lip, and you take it upon yourself to close the gap between the two of you.

It’s soft, full of this hesitation because despite all the flirting, you’re still unsure of yourself. He quickly eases these fears as his hands move and you find his arms wrapped around your torso. He deepens the kiss, and you both lean into it. It becomes more desperate after that.

Your hands find their way to his hair, and you fiddle with the ends, unwilling to break the kiss, even if it means air. He breaks the kiss for a second, only to come back to your lips with more passion, biting your bottom lip, before slipping his tongue into your mouth, taking the more aggressive approach.

And you can’t take it anymore. You need him. You pull away from him, pant softly before kissing his jaw gently.

“Take me to your room.” You request. He obliges.

You find yourself taking off your heels as soon as you get in, your feet aching as you walk further into the room. The context is much different than it was this afternoon—And it makes you nervous.

Matt comes up from behind you and places his hands on your arms, rubbing them gently, before kissing your shoulder.

“You don’t have to be nervous. I’ll be gentle with you...” He says softly. You hum before he continues, “Or do you... want me to be rough with you?” he asks teasingly, landing a quick bite onto your shoulder. You make a noise of surprise and turn to him.

“You’re a tease, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Once or twice.” He begins to loosen his tie, eventually forcing it off and then starting to unbutton his shirt. You begin to help him with this task, eventually getting it all the way unbuttoned. Then you gently push him back against the bed and he laughs, falling onto it.

He thinks it’s cute. Until you sit above him, your dress hiking a bit. You lean down to kiss him as his hands find their way to the back of your thighs, and begin to move up and down, just being the tease, he is.

You whine into the kiss, and it just makes him chuckle further, before flipping the pair of you over, then planting a kiss on your neck.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Needy from just a few kisses?” He slips off his shirt as he continues to kiss you. One hand remains on your thigh, travelling up your thigh, eventually finding your panties.

“Mhm...” You hum, your hands wrapping around his neck again to play with his hair.

“Talk to me, sweet girl...” he says softly before he continues his assault on your neck.

“Matt…” You hum. “You know, I only—” Then his fingers find your clit and begin rubbing gentle circles, just teasing you with his fingers. It turns him from tease to cruel. You let out a moan, and he only tuts in disappointment.

“Keep talking or you won’t get anything from me.” He tells you, before continuing to tease you. His fingers begin to work on your folds. You try your best to focus. He takes off your panties and throws them on the ground somewhere.

“Only bought this dress for you... Thought you might like it...” You gasp again as he slips a finger into you, “Fuck—Thought it would make you do something about it.” In fairness, it got the reaction you had only hoped for in your wildest dreams. It makes him chuckle against your skin.

“Only got this pretty little dress for me to touch you like this?” He adds another finger and starts to move. When you don’t answer, too busy getting lost in his fingers, he bites your shoulder again. “Answer me, sweetheart.”

“Yes! God, yes…” You respond. He hums in approval, continuing to curl his fingers inside of you. It only takes a few minutes before you can feel yourself near the edge of an orgasm. “Matt… Baby, please...”

“C’mon, sweet girl... I’ve got you, let go...” And it’s enough to make you, cumming all over his fingers. He lets you ride out your high, out of breath. He kisses your neck again before bringing his fingers up to his lips, tasting your juices. “Sweet girl, still.” He smirks. Your heart skips a beat. He chuckles. Then he continues, “Did so good for me, sweetheart... Wanna keep going?” He asks.

“Yes, please... Wanna feel you inside me...” you confess.

“You want me to fill you up and stretch you out, pretty girl?” You should know better by now, but you just hum in response, gaining another bite to your shoulder. “Try again.”

“Yes... I want you so badly, Matt, please... I’ve been dreaming about it for months now,” You confess, “Need you...”  He seems satisfied by this, and moves back, helping you sit up.

“Well then, we’ll need to get this pretty dress off you.” He says, his fingers working to take off his belt. Your fingers run over his chest. It’s all he can do not to rip the dress off, but he knows how much it means to you and how much it could’ve cost. So, instead, he slips the dress off you and feels you shiver against him. Still so nervous. He tosses the dress in the general direction of his suitcase, so it doesn’t sit on the floor. He leans in and starts pressing kisses to your chest, his hands reaching up to your bra and unclasping it. He throws it with much less care than the dress.

He keeps kissing down your torso as he lays you back on the bed, your hands going again to his hair.

“How come it’s fair that I’m fully naked, and you still have pants on?” You ask. It makes him laugh, and he stands straight again.

“Fair enough,” he says, taking them off. And then goes his boxers. Before you can stare at him, he’s on top of you again, kissing you deeply. You can feel his cock resting against your fold and it makes you moan into the kiss. He pulls away for just a second before asking, “Is this, okay? You’ll stop me if it’s too much?”

“Yeah, I’ll tell you.” You respond. He smiles at your words.

“Perfect. Perfect, pretty girl...” He hums as he begins to kiss your shoulders and the top of your chest, before slipping inside of you. You let out a moan, and he groans as well, taking a few minutes to take all of you in. It feels amazing. He begins to move inside of you as he brings you in for another kiss. When he pulls away, he’s talking, “Been thinking about this for... Fuck, so long...” He groans. “Been dreaming of this perfect pussy and how good it would feel around me…” He says, and it elicits a shaky moan from you.

“Faster, please...” You request, and he obliges, picking up the pace. You’ve been thinking about this for a long time too. You never imagined he’d be so controlling about the whole thing. It works you up almost as much as how vocal he is.

He leaves bites and marks down your chest as he pulls you closer to him, knowing he won’t last much longer. He feels you tighten around him and makes another demand, “Tell me how badly you want to cum, and I’ll let you.” He says this before planting a rather contrasting soft kiss to your ear.

“Please... Please, Matt, Fuck... I need to cum all over your cock... Wanna feel so good, baby...” You moan, your fingers pulling on his hair. It excites you when he moans. “And I want you to cum inside me... Fill me up, Baby, please...” You beg. He’s happy with it for now, but he knows he’ll want to hear more another time.

“C’mon, sweet girl. Cum for me…” He pants, and it’s all you need before you let yourself come undone around his cock. He continues thrusting for a few minutes, letting you ride out your high, before cumming himself, and you moan at the feeling. He lays against you for a few minutes, trying to recover, and it’s then that you notice he’s shaking.

“Are you okay?” You ask softly, brushing his hair out of his face. He looks at you with those gorgeous brown eyes. He laughs at your question.

“I’m great... You’re just... amazing...” he says honestly, kissing your shoulder one more time. “Perfect, pretty girl...” He praises. “My perfect girl...” It makes you shudder. He stays like this for a moment more before kissing you softly. Then, he sits up and goes to get a towel to clean the both of you up. And then, he’s back in bed with you. He pulls you close as you both recover from what just happened.

“I wasn’t lying,” You start, “I’ve been thinking about you for months. You’re all I’ve wanted for so long...” You confess. He kisses your head and pulls you closer.

“Me too... I was too much of an idiot to tell you though. Almost let you get away.”

“You got me.” You affirm. He hums and begins to rub all too familiar circles into your hips with his thumbs.

“And now I just want you more.”

The feeling is mutual.

[writerfromshikahr]

Because Illario can't help himself flirt with Rook and I had to use "that line" to start a little piece.

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Enough, Illario (Part 1) - Lucanis X Rook Fanfic

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"You know, de Riva, you chose the wrong Dellamorte."

Rook's eyebrow arched. "Is that so? I wasn't aware I had chosen one at all."

Lucanis shot him a look.

"I'm charming, clearly more handsome, and the things I can do to you—" Illario started, but Lucanis kicked him under the café table, making him jolt in his chair.

"That's enough, cousin," Lucanis said quietly.

"What?! We're just having a little fun. Always so serious, Lucanis."

"We are here to discuss Crow business, not inflate your already overstuffed ego. This is why your contracts always go wrong."

Illario smirked. "Sometimes wrong feels better." He winked at Rook.

"I'd prefer not to die anytime soon, yeah..." Rook replied flatly.

"See? Even Rook doesn't fall for your idiotic charm."

"Yet..." Illario added with a sly grin. "I have never failed to bed a Crow I fancy."

"Aww, how sweet. Well, you can call me your first disappointment then," she shot back.

Lucanis spat his coffee back into his cup, trying to stifle a laugh.

"I love a challenge from a beautiful woman," Illario smirked.

Rook's lips curved into a mischievous smile as she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "Oh, I wouldn't call it a challenge. More like an impossibility."

Illario's eyes gleamed with amusement, clearly undeterred. "Impossibility? You wound me, mi amada. Surely you can't deny the allure of an irresistible man like myself."

Lucanis shot his cousin a pointed glare. "The only thing irresistible about you is your ability to ruin a meeting. Maybe focus on that talent instead."

Rook chuckled, her laugh soft and utterly unbothered by Illario's relentless flirting. "Lucanis does have a point. If your jobs are anything like your attempts to flirt, I can see why they might go sideways."

Illario placed a dramatic hand over his chest, pretending to be mortally offended. "You both wound me! And here I thought Antivan Crows were meant to appreciate style and finesse."

Lucanis sighed, clearly done with the conversation but unwilling to abandon the sharp amusement tugging at his lips. "Your version of 'style' belongs in a tavern, Illario, not at a Crow meeting."

Illario choked on his drink. "By the Maker, you two deserve each other. So serious, so sharp-tongued—it's no wonder you're not fun at parties."

"At least we leave them alive," Rook quipped.

Lucanis coughed to disguise the laugh threatening to escape, while his cousin sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Fine, fine. I can tell when I'm not appreciated."

"Can you?" Lucanis muttered under his breath, earning him another laugh from Rook.

Illario wagged a finger at both of them. "One day, Rook, you'll regret underestimating my charms and all I can offer, in the bedroom and on a contract."

"Not likely," Rook replied smoothly, before turning her attention to Lucanis.

Illario leaned closer to her, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "You know, de Riva, a woman like you deserves someone who truly appreciates her. Someone who knows how to make you..."

Lucanis placed his coffee cup down just a little harder than necessary. "Enough, Illario."

"Touchy," he replied, grinning wider as he turned back to Rook. "But I understand. He’s always been the brooding type and never shares his feelings."

"And here I thought assassins were supposed to be elusive and guarded. Unlike you," she replied, her eyes darting briefly toward Lucanis, catching the flicker of tension in his expression.

"Don't worry, if subtlety ever bores you, you know where to find me."

"Careful, Illario," she replied, her tone sharp but amused. "Keep pushing, and Lucanis might decide to silence you for good."

He grinned, clearly enjoying himself. "Ah, but then he’d have to admit why he did it, and we couldn't have that now, could we, cousin?"

"Sometimes incrimination is worth the risk." Lucanis said into his coffee, taking a long, thoughtful sip.

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Part 2 can be found HERE

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[darkst4lker]

a bed full of snakes is a warfield. // harry potter.

slytherin!harry potter x slytherin!reader

plot: ever since your first year, when you and harry entered slytherin, you've been rivals. always wanting to be better than the other, always fighting, always teasing each other. the problem is that you're so alike, you can't stand each other. until one night harry wakes up from a nightmare, and you help him calm down.

tw: rivals to lovers, mentions of violence, trauma, a nose bleed, sixth year, half-blood prince events, harry is the same harry as always just maybe a little more arrogant bc y'know, he spent five years in slytherin. fluff, angst, nightmares. low caps on purpose. draco and harry get along here.

notes: english is not my first language, but i hope you enjoy anyways. sorry if there's any mistakes.

horace slughorn lessons weren't an easy ride for someone who doesn't know potions. luckily for you, you were one of his most talented students like you were once for professor snape before he started teaching defense against dark arts.

in fact, you were so good at potions that you couldn't possibly believe how on earth harry james potter could be standing in this class and being the best one at it when a year ago he was a failure at this subject.

there was a part of you that was livid by the fact that he was succeeding at the only field you always surpassed him, because you and harry had a tendency of making a nasty competition out of the rest of subjects. but, there was another side of you that was about to explode out of excitement.

you sure loved a good competition, and harry provided that for you and you for him every single time since the two of you entered slytherin five years ago.

it became sort of a symbiotic relationship because he stimulated your arrogance and thirst for success like no other person in your life, it was a hunger you both carried driven purely by the need of being better than the other.

yet, the problem between you and harry was probably the fact that apart from being in an eternal competition, you two fought like if you were at war. draco malfoy, a friend of both of you, hated to be in the same room as the two of you at the same time and so did harry's bestest friends: ron and hermione. you and harry knew how to be awfully insufferable.

well, at least that's what everyone thought until that day.

it was a quite beautiful and warm day outside. the sky was clear as you were leaving slughorn class after being surpassed (again) by harry. at this point it was getting tiring to always lose to him but not even harry could ruin that day for you.

as you walked out of the classroom friendly grabbing pansy's arm, you saw him: his green eyes always standing out, his messy uniform and the way his skin appeared so soft to the touch. you dismissed the thought quickly as harry's look went to yours, and a cocky smile appeared in his lips as he approached you and pansy.

“guess you'll need to settle for the second place.” harry said, obviously teasing you. hermione and ron came chasing after him making obvious that he went out of his way to mess with you.

an annoyed sigh left your lips, it was almost funny to see how harry ego became bigger after every class because it meant that you would surely enjoy much more the moment you finally archived to bring it down.

as you looked at him, his eyes made you shiver a little. the bastard was pretty as a sin, and charming as a snake, but he always forgot that you also knew how to behave like a snake too, and finally your mouth opened to answer him.

“can't live without me, can you?” you answered, an arrogant smile placing itself on your lips. “just wait until i figure out how you managed to cheat in slughorn classes, and i will become his favorite like i was with professor snape.” you added, firing back at him with a determined expression.

“oh, please (y/n). the only reason you were snape's favorite is because he literally hates me unprovoked.” harry joked and you got instantly irritated. “and don't pretend you aren't obsessed with me either.” he said, obviously teasing you.

you looked at pansy, who seemed a little desperate to flee from your encounter and you released her arm letting her go silently. then your eyes went right back at harry.

“for merlin sake, potter.” you said, rolling your eyes at him. “you scared her.”

“no, you scared her.” harry answered, crossing his arms. “you're the one who gets all worked up when i tell you the truth.”

“what on earth are you talking about, potter? you were shit at potions all these five years until months ago, don't get arrogant on me.” you mimicked his actions, crossing your arms too as the words left your mouth.

“yeah sur-...” harry was obviously about to fight you back, until hermione voice interrupted him, making you both remember that you weren't alone.

ron stood back from the encounter clearly tired of your rivalry, and hermione by the other hand seemed in a hurry.

“harry, please we need to go or we're going to be late for herbology.” she said, annoyed. “by the way, hi (y/n).”

“hi granger.” your voice came out friendly. “please hold your dog leash tighter the next time.” you added, a mocking tone on your words as you looked at harry.

you and harry's friends weren't exactly «besties» but you did not hate each other at all. not after what you did for harry in third year.

you had proved that you cared for harry deep inside when a dementor made him fall of his broom breaking it in the process and you stayed by his side for hours before he woke up and even bought him chocolate frogs. hermione and ron didn't understood why you asked them to not tell harry, but they did what you requested out of respect and you disappeared before harry opened his eyes.

and that was your little secret, one you intended to keep forever.

how could you not? knowing that would only make him more arrogant that he already is. also, is not like you did that because you liked him anyways, right?

i mean, he's insufferable, but you didn't wanted him to die by any means. it scared the shit out of you even thinking about the possibility.

in fact, it frightened you so much that you were fighting for him to be safe even now, but he doesn't need to know yet. no one had to know.

except for, of course, dumbledore.

“if im a dog then what are you? a kitten?” harry answered clearly irritated and hermione pulled him by the ear to get him off your neck and dragged him the other way, leaving you with an heated answer stuck in your tongue.

but even if harry's words had made you furious, they also had a clearly effect on you.

“bye, (l/n)” ron said as he followed them, clearly enjoying not being the one scolded by hermione for once. his words brought you to reality again.

as harry left unwillingly with hermione and ron, you stood there for a second. the corridor was almost empty, and you heart was beating subtly faster than always.

was this something normal? when did you started to feel like this?

you didn't knew at all, sometimes it was like you felt this since first year without noticing. yet, this emotion you didn't wanted to acknowledge was really starting disturb your peace.

it seemed harry potter always managed to ruin your day.

hours later, you found yourself laying on your bed. the green sheets embraced your body comfortably, trying to induce you into dreams, but it was impossible.

you were wide awake in the pale moonlight crossing the water covering the windows of the slytherin girls dorm in the dungeons. a sigh left your lips, as you rolled in bed trying to find the exact position to finally catch sleep but instead you heard the door of the boys dorm opening and closing. then steps and a calm sob.

this was not the first time you heard this in your time on hogwarts and you knew what was it, but all these years you were too coward to go out and do something about it.

it was harry, and you knew that he had one of his horrid nightmares.

you decided this was the last night you wouldn't go out and help him, because even if he was annoying, irritating and a bastard, your rivalry had its limits.

as you stood up in your black pajamas, your heartbeat got faster. what were you going to say to him?

for once, a part of you decided it didn't matter.

so when you opened the door, you saw him sitting im one of the sofas of the common room, crying quietly, his face slightly red and with a nose bleed that was getting worse and worse, staining his neck and his pajamas.

you almost ran to his side, casting a quick accio charm with your wand to get an elegant green hanky with your silvery initials embroidered in one of the corners. a gift from draco that you haven't got to use until that night.

harry looked at you almost in shock as you sat on the sofa with him, but he stayed silent, sobbing without making almost any sound. he seemed surprised to see you there but he seemed to calm down a little when you grabbed his face sweetly and used your hanky to carefully try to clean the blood from his face, holding it to his nose.

your fingers got stained with his blood, but you didn't seemed to care.

“hold it in place” you almost whispered, talking to him like he was a crying child.

he subtly nodded, tears still coming out from his eyes.

your fingers approached his cheeks, wiping his tears away even if they would keep coming out. then, while seeing his face, you remembered the photo of james potter in his seeker uniform on the quidditch shelf on one of the hallways in hogwarts. yet, when you eyes met his, another iconic photo came to your mind.

the portrait of lily evans in slughorn's shelf. her loving eyes were the same ones her son had inherited, the constant vestiges of her life were alive in harry and spoke through him like an ocean of sweetness.

you didn't knew why you paid so much attention to harry's parents photos, but something had drawn your curiosity and through the years it became more and more real what everyone thought:

“you really look exactly like your father.” your voice came out, still in a whisper while grabbing his cheeks. “except for your eyes.”

you didn't added what everyone said next, because harry knew it all too well.

he leant against your hands, accepting your touch and a sad smile came out his lips, genuinely moved by your words. words that even if he had heard them a thousand times before, for some reason, he never expected to hear them from you.

and that made his heart skip a beat.

“thank you.” harry managed to say. your soul felt almost wounded at the sadness in his voice, the voice of a dying man, a dying boy, that once had survived death but it kept chasing him over and over again.

and while you fought him on daylight, now you wanted to protect him under the watery moonlight coming from the windows.

“don't mention it.” you answered. your hands didn't moved from his face, now caressing it tenderly.

“please don't tell-...” he was going to say, but you interrupted him.

“i won't tell anyone, you don't have to worry.” you said as you got closer to him. “i never did.”

of course you wouldn't tell a soul. as much as you loved your slytherin mates, you knew that a bed full of snakes is a warfield, and being a lot of them the sons and daughters of death eaters they were surely going to eat harry up with rumours and mean insults.

and, every other time you had heard him come out of his room at night, you always kept it private because being a snake meant surviving at any cost, even if that meant feasting on your own kin to keep yourself alive. slytherin was about enduring, about succeeding.

and those were qualities that helped harry in the many times he had to face tom riddle, slytherin made him understand the dark lord much better but the cost was the constant fear of becoming him, of not being capable of surviving, of transforming into an omen.

“it was one of your nightmares?” he nodded after you muttered the question, taking one of your hands to hold one of his.

“it was about the night my parents died.” harry confessed. the tears had stopped for a moment, but a couple of them left his green eyes. “snape taught me occlumency to keep voldemort out of my head, but i keep having nightmares.” he explained, his voice too calm for someone that cried a lot just minutes before.

you looked at him, his burden becoming extremely palpable to you. the curse of being an unwilling child forced to fight a war that he didn't started, and that he didn't wanted.

you didn't thought much about what you were doing when you took off his glasses, put them on the small table beside the sofa and pulled him into a tight hug, one of your hands in his back, the other on his nape, caressing him.

harry cried on your shoulder, and you tried your best to make him feel held.

“it's okay, let it all out.” soft words left your lips, reassure him. “im here”

he hugged you back, almost desperately. like if he hadn't been comforted in a long time.

“im here, harry i will help you. you're not alone” you said and you instantly regretted it, knowing your words probably blew up your intent of not revealing the secret you've been keeping from him.

as you both broke the hug, harry spoke.

“help me?” he asked, clearly in disbelief. “why would you ever help me?” he asked you, a smile escaping his lips through the tears as if you just told him a joke.

you sighed. it was time to reveal your secret.

“because even if i love to fight with you, i don't want to see you die.” you confessed, you words in a seriousness harry had never heard on you.

he went silent for a moment, suspecting you had something say.

and it was true, because when the year started you parents began to pressure you to become a death eater. a destiny you would quickly share with draco in no less than a couple months.

but you knew way better than that, and in fear of having to do something awful or worse (having to hurt harry) you ran to dumbledore and explained him everything.

albus received your confession with open arms and offered you a way to help harry: joining the order of the phoenix and act as a double spy under the tutoring of severus snape who also acted as a double spy.

you were forbidden of sharing most of that information with absolutely anyone, but here you were, about to confess in front of one of the people you hated the most.

or maybe you loved the most.

because who would put their lives on a stake for a person in who they don't believe? for someone you don't love?

the most beautiful sacrifices are made out of love, out of adoration.

and maybe and just maybe, you loved harry potter.

the realization came to you suddenly, as he waited for an explanation while looking at you.

yet, a realization came to him too.

“(y/n), what did you do?” harry asked, his eyes widening for a moment. “what did you do?” his voice was soft, yet desperate.

“there's a lot of things im willing to do for you.” you admitted, trying to dismiss his question one last time.

“for salazar, please tell me what did you do.” he pleaded, scared that you could be in danger.

something cracked on your insides because facing his desperation, how could you deny him all your secrets?

“i've joined the order.” your answer struck him like a punch straight on the face. “my parents want me to become a death eater, so i spoke to dumbledore. i'll be a double spy.”

harry face went from having a sad expression to a surprised one.

“but how? why?” he desperately grabbed your hands, you thought his eyes had a hint of fear in them but you dismissed it. “you can't just do that for me, you're sacrificing your life if voldemort finds out.”

“i'm doing it happily, harry.”

“but why?!” harry exclaimed, then he remembered that everyone were sleeping and closed his eyes in frustration. “we were fighting this morning, tell me why would you do this?”

“you don't understand.” you said as his hands grabbed yours tightly.

“you can't say that after saying all of this to me, (y/n).” he answered, obviously getting annoyed. “i don't want you to do this.”

“i think i love you harry.” you admitted, looking at him in the eyes. “i did it because i love you, i was just too stubborn to admit that to myself. i sat by your side in third year when you passed out and fell off your broom because i love you. i bought you chocolate frogs that time because i love you, i beated the shit out of crabbe in fourth year because i love you and he said some blood purist shit about you.” you confessed, looking at him, your voice getting weaker with every word said. harry smiled at the last sentence, now understanding why you did that to crabbe in fourth year. he had thought all this time that it had been just a discussion between both of you that escalated. harry remembered your wounded knuckles, and something inside him trembled. “all i ever did was because i love you, even when i fight you.” you finished, your eyes about to tear up a little.

the realization was too hard for you to handle, knowing he probably didn't liked you back.

you both were tearing up, his nose bleed had stopped long ago yet some stains of blood were in his clothes and in your fingers.

your hanky rested on the sofa, your eyes were on his like it was the first sip of water you got on a whole lifetime.

“remember that time in fourth year i approached you with ron, and i stayed silent for like a whole minute im front of you and then fleed?” harry asked, smiling sweetly towards you. you nodded in response, clearly remembering the awkward encounter. “i wanted to invite you to the yule ball, but i got scared.” he confessed. “and then you ended up going with draco so i started picking on you the whole event because i was jealous.”

a laugh escaped your lips as he spoke, you could have never imagined his intentions and now here he was, erasing your fear of harry not loving you back.

“i think i love you too.” he continued. “this is weird tho, i never thought we would be speaking of this”

“yeah, you're right.” you answered, taking your hand out of his to give him a friendly punch on the arm. “how i will get used to be all sweet with you when we're always insulting each other?”

“we'll get there someday.” harry said, chuckling.

a brief silence came between you both as your eyes explored each other's faces, and in a moment he just stopped thinking and made a move.

harry grabbed your cheeks and pulled you to steal a kiss from you, it was sweet yet you felt his subtly swollen face because of the tears, a little taste of blood because of the rest he had on his lips, your own tears finally running free. both of you weren't exactly experienced on kissing, but you managed to keep it loving.

it was the kind of kiss you never thought you and harry would give each other. the intoxicating embrace of a hidden love that somehow managed to survive all these years to finally bloom.

a kiss soaked in a infinite mantra of sacrifice, of purity, of unconditional love. the kind of love you're willing to die for.

yet, the kiss was brief and tender. when you both broke it, your cheeks were subtly pink and his were too.

“this is a good start.” you whispered close to his face, finally accepting the feelings inside your heart.

“yes, it is.” he smiled at you, and then it seemed like an idea crossed his mind.

there was a brief moment of silence before he spoke again.

“if you're going to be a double spy, you'll need to be trained.” harry said. “i can help you practice. it frightens me to think of you dying.”

his offer made you giggle, and you nodded.

“okay.” you answered. “i can help you with potions in return.”

“i mean, i've been managing as you already know, but i don't understand a single thing of what im doing so i could really use your help.” harry confessed, smiling. “you see, i found this book on my first class, it has notes to get every potion right.” he added. “and a spell i desperately want you to learn if you're really going to risk your life like that.”

you leant against his shoulder intertwining your hands.

“im up for it, what's the spell called?” you answered as he leant his head against yours.

harry didn't answered right away, he struggled in his insides to share the information, but now he felt safe with you.

you both didn't had a clue of what was going to happen or if you were going to be together right away. harry needed time, you needed time and all these confessions after years of fighting non stop were confusing the hell out of you. yet, a war was coming and you were going to play a dangerous part on it.

and knowing that you had already made your big move on the board to help keep him safe while putting you at risk, harry realized you really could use knowing his secret.

« a secret for a secret » he thought, thinking on your confession.

when he finally answered, his voice sounded serious but the intention of helping you was there.

his words were dripping honey, the kind of honey someone has inside when they want you to be safe. when they love you so much, they are willing to die thousands of times for you too.

“sectumsempra.”

I HOPED YOU ENJOYED IT!! im a sucker for slytherin!harry so im planning writing more things of him in the future!! ♡

[mariasont]

Okay okay, so this doesn't have to be smutty if you don't want but enemies to lovers Spencer, they banter and fight at work they just can't get along * cough sexual tension cough* she is like really short, 5 foot nothing. And one day during an argument she goes "I'll climb you like a tree!" Trying to be intimidating but it comes off as something entirely 😂

Climb You Like A Tree

A/N: ahhhh thank you so much for the request--loved, loved, loveddd writing this! <3 xoxo

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: suggestive flirting, enemies to lovers

wc: 1.1k

From the moment you joined the BAU, you were immediately drawn to Dr. Spencer Reid, resident boy genius and pretty boy. You were hooked on his random facts, and his rare snarky comments--essentially everything about him.

But that admiration swiftly turned into exasperation after just a week of working alongside him. What began as quirky charm quickly soured; his random facts, once amusing, now felt like thinly veiled jabs, and his 'occasional' snark became a relentless critique targeting you. You were at a loss, unable to pinpoint the exact misstep that had seemingly placed you on the receiving end of his pointed barbs, but it was clear you had inadvertently crossed some invisible line.

You couldn't shake the feeling that you were an unwelcome replacement for Alex in his eyes. But surely, he couldn't blame you for that, could he? You tried to overlook his subtle digs, to treat them as mere background noise, but god he made it hard.

Month after month, you kept your head down, refusing the grant him the reaction he so desperately wanted. You were new and hesitant about your place on the team, so you bore the blunt of his jabs with a diplomatic smile.

By the fourth month, you'd reached your breaking point, and you unleashed your own brand of sharp-tongued retorts. You were known for your smart mouth in your old department--a skill that had made you both a standout and a frequent flyer in the disciplinary office. You could sense the team's growing frustration at your constant bickering. Yet, there was an unspoken acknowledgement of the singular abilities you both contributed, a balance that tipped in the favor of necessity.

Today had been particularly challenging, your most recent case had ended in the death of seven victims before the unsub ultimately killed himself, taking the locations of the victims with him. So, when you landed and were greeted not by a moment's rest but by a mocking monolith of paperwork, you were at your wits end.

"Could you click that pen any louder?" you grumbled, your eyes blazing with irritation as they met Spencer's, causing for a momentary pause in your flurry of activity.

"Technically, yes. The Doppler Effect dictates that the perceived volume changes with distance, so if I were to move closer to you, the clicking would indeed sound louder to you," Spencer retorted with a sardonic edge, inching closer across the desk, his pen's clicks swelling in volume as if to underscore the scientific principle he so carefully threw upon you.

"Come any closer and I swear I'll shove that pen where the sun doesn't shine."

"Yeah, you'd like that wouldn't you?"

You bit back the words that sat on the tip of your tongue, acutely aware of Hotch's scrutinizing stare. If was reprimand was on the horizon, you were determined not to be the recipient, despite Spencer's knack for bushing your buttons. The worst part of it all was how undeniably attractive you found Spencer to be--you liked his nerdy comments, the way you had to break your neck to look at him, and even that stupid smirk of his.

It was like a twisted game of fuck, marry, kill--except Spencer was your choice for all three, a secret you'd never admit to anyone. God knows that his ego was already overinflated.

"You know, while acai berries themselves are rich in antioxidants, the bowls are often misleadingly marketed as superfoods. In reality, the excessive amounts of granola, sweetened fruits, and added sugars make it the equivalent of dressing up a dessert as a fruit salad."

Your spoon paused mid-air suspended in the stillness of the break room, as your gaze drifted upwards to lock with Spencer's. A smirk unfurled across your lips, and with deliberate slowness, you savored a slow, exaggerated mouthful, the spoon exiting your mouth with a prolonged, tantalizing pull. A contented moan escaped you. "Mmm, nothing beats a bowl of disguised indulgence. Thanks for the insight, but this 'fruit salad' just became a tad sweeter."

You observed him as he stood, mouth slightly open, eyes glued to your lips with an intensity that bordered on reverence. Anticipating his usual quick-witted comeback, you were met with silence. "Aww, what's the matter, wonder boy? Cat got your tongue?"

"Not at all, but it wouldn't hurt for the cat to catch yours for a change," he replied, stepping forward, his stare cutting through the space between you. 

"Look who's talking. When you finally decide to censor your own commentary, that's when I'll consider silence," you pronounced, your acai bowl abandoned on the counter as a wave of irritation surged within you, propelling you forward.

"Censor my commentary? Trust me, If I didn't, we'd be having a very different conversation right now," he murmured, his frame inching so close you could feel the warmth of his breath.

"You must love the sound of my voice to be this close. Remind me again about the Doppler Effect?" you snapped, attempting to sound unaffected, but your body betrayed you--a rush of warmth blooming over your face. "Or is it just my personal bubble that's too tempting?"

"Are you always this flustered when someone invades your space, or am I the exception?" he teased, stepping in even closer, nearly pressing against you. Your gazes locked in a silent challenge as you tilted you head up defiantly, your heart doing somersaults in your chest.

"Flustered? Hardly. I'm just sizing up the tree before I climb," you declare, your gaze sharpening to fine points. "And you're not as tall as you think."

A sudden burst of laughter spilled from Spencer, a rich sound that echoed through the minimal space between you. He didn't step back, your chests touching. The sound jolted you, and as the weight of your own words hit you, a fierce blush flared across your cheeks, your embarrassment impossible to hide.

"Wait, that's not--ugh!" you stammer, but Spencer is already retreating towards the bullpen, his laughter trailing behind him, taunting you. Your voice echoes down the hallway as you hurry after his figure. "Spencer!"

At the bullpen's entrance, Spencer halts, turning to address the team with a grin. "Guess who just said she's planning to climb me like a tree?" he announces, your words now on display for the entire team. Heat creeps into your cheeks as you wish the ground would swallow you whole.

"Called it!" Penelope's voice rang up, her hands waving like she was directing a parade. "Profiler? Please, I didn't need a badge to see this coming. Doubters, eat your hearts out. Get it, girl!"

"I said 'like a tree' in a metaphorical sense, guys. You know, like overcoming obstacles...not literally climbing Spencer!" you mumble, your face hidden behind your hands, the embarrassment radiating from your cheeks.

With a lean that closed the gap between you, Spencer's voice was low and teasing, "Keep telling yourself that."

[cherrifire]

Hi :D Logic behind the latest batch of cutie marks? if you feel like sharing :)

Hello everypony ^-^ It is cuie mark info dump again ^-^

Before we start, reminder that Grian + Tango do not have cutie marks because they are a hippogriff and a Kirin respectively. Non-pony creatures do not have cutie marks :)

Now that we've got that out of the way, let's get started!

Mumbo's Cutie Mark

I'm the proudest of this one because it'd simple but affective.

Mumbo's cutie mark is a tangled-up red wire which has been cut at the ends to expose the conductors. The wire is also particularly made to create an 'M' shape.

Similar to Impulse's cutie mark, Mumbo's is related to electricity for his investment in redstone. Electricity being the closest thing to it. That said, I gave Mumbo a wire because it is the baseline of all electricity. It connects everything together. From the power source and into whatever little machine or contraption you've built, wires are needed to keep it all powered! So I thought using it as a cutie mark would work really well for Mumbo. Sometimes he can just bring people together just like a wire does for electricity.

(And the little knot in the wire is just a little something to indicate Mumbo may be a bit of a mess)

Additionally, with the wire being in the shape of an 'M' it could stand for Mumbo while also being in the shape of a mustache too :)

Scar's Cutie Mark

Capitalism baby! Scar's cutie mark is of a red top hat next to a bag of bits (the currency in my little pony is called bits and are essentially gold coins).

At heart, Scar is a swindler. He's full of joy and whimsy sure, but he has a real talent for selling little trinkets to anypony who takes a look at his store front. In my head, Scar is essentially the flim and flam of this AU. He's a wandering salespony who shows up from time to time with things to sell from all across Equestria! That's where the little bag can be interpreted as a bag of coins, or a bag full of mystery items he's collected over the years.

Also, the top hat is there to represent Scar's salespony flair.

Joel's Cutie Mark

Joel's cutie mark is of a greek stone pillar and a chisel.

There are a couple of meanings to this one. The first one is pretty obvious, Joel loves to build! He's a fantastic builder with an eye for design. So I chose a greek pillar to represent one of my favourite builds of his, Stratos! But of course, a simple pillar can be used for lots of things and that's where the second meaning comes in. To hold things up! Joel holds himself up to on pretty high pedestal. He's very full of himself and I honestly can't blame him. Joel is great! So of course I had to represent his ego in his cutie mark somehow.

Jimmy's Cutie Mark

Jimmy's cutie mark is of a little canary bird. Another cutie mark with two meanings behind it!

First, is the obvious one. The canary in the coal mine. Misfortune will fall upon the canary to indicate to others that the journey may be too dangerous to continue. A bad luck charm if you will or a bad omen. And that's the surface meaning of his cutie mark that everypony knows it for. Jimmy is the poor clumsy pony in town who always seems to hurt himself before things go wrong.

However, there is a second meaning. Canary birds are also supposed to happiness and harmony. This is the main core of the cutie mark which gets over looked. Despite the bad implications of his cutie mark, it does not stop Jimmy from spreading joy wherever he goes. He's kind and joyous, keeping a positive attitude no matter what.

(I of course have a Ranchers plot point where Tango says this to Jimmy to cheer him up about his cutie mark one day. Tango, who has never had a cutie mark and does not understand their importance, says he doesn't see Jimmy as bad luck, but instead feels joy when Jimmy smiles no matter the situation. But that's a story for another day 🤭)

[ravenslvt]

why does your best friend’s brother have to be so hot??

☆ suna rintarou x f!reader! (pt.3)☆

pt.1 pt.2 pt.4 links!!

cw: smut! porn with feelings, fluff!, oral sex f recieving, confessions, alcohol use (responsibly), reader is hot and she knows it, tiny bit of angst but not really, party!, atsumu is annoying.

you stare at yourself in the mirror, cursing trying to put the obnoxious earring backing on.

“here let me help you.” your best friend mumbles, moving your hair and easily putting the jewlery on in place.

“thanks… are you sure it won’t be too cold tonight? maybe the skirt is too much.” you pout, looking over your outfit. the only ‘going out’ clothes you really brought was a short skirt and your favorite top that you’d wear to parties back at college.

it was your last week here at the suna residence, with classes starting up again soon.

so of course, the miya twins decided to reunite everyone at their family home, and throw a party. you were at least thankful it was only a street away so no one had to drive over there.

“you’ll be fine. atsumu’s hosting, i’m sure he’ll offer to warm you up” ami giggles. you roll your eyes. the more eccentric miya twin had always pined after you back in high school. of course you never paid him any mind, your heart was always focused on rintarou.

everytime you’d go to the inarizaki volleyball games back in high school, he’d come up to you with his charming smile. ‘aww, come all this way just to see little ol’ me? how sweet!’ he’d say before his brother would come in and grab him, apologizing for his nagging behavior. what you’d never notice though, was the way rintarou would glare daggers at his friend, always flirting with you right in front of him.

you wouldn’t hear their conversations in the locker rooms back then either.

‘i think i’m gonna ask her out, what do you think, suna?’ the blonde setter comments, smirking at the brunette who sat on the bench on his phone.

he just scoffed, sounding unconvinced. ‘good luck with that.’

‘hey! what’s that supposed to mean?’ he pouts, his ego taking a blow.

‘just saying, doesn’t seem like she’s that interested in you.’ suna replies, taking a sip from his water bottle.

‘oh yeah? sounds like you’re just jealous, mister.’ atsamu’s lips quirk back up into his usual smirk.

rin’s eye twitches.

‘no way. she’s like a sister to me.’

“ami you liar, it’s cold as fuck!” you shiver slightly, holding your arms to your chest as you step out the front door, rintarou locking it behind you three.

“consequences of dressing like a hottie. some liquor will warm you right up” she beams at you, making you sigh. “i guess” you squirm uncomfortably in your outfit. the second you walked downstairs, rintarou’s eyes went directly to your bare legs in the skirt. he still seemed so nervous around you even after he’s quite literally been inside of you (twice).

“let’s go before atsumu drinks everything and starts challenging people to sing offs.” the older suna says, walking ahead of you guys on the sidewalk.

“jeez, why’s he in a mood” ami mutters to you, you just shrug, eyeing him.

rin wasn't too excited at the thought of watching guys fawn over you all night while he had to stand back and not be able to do a thing about it.

once you approach the house, you could hear music playing from the backyard. rintarou knocks on the door first, texting someone to let them know you were there.

the door opens a few seconds later, a grey haired twin smiling at you three. “look who it is! long time no see girls. suna.” he gives the man a side hug, they still saw each other from time to time after college. you noticed the way osamu’s eyes lit up when ami smiled back at him. your eyebrows quirked.

“everyone’s scattered around, mostly in the back. drinks in the kitchen, beer pong in the garadge. the usual.” he lets you guys in pointing to each area as if you all hadn’t been there before.

“thanks, samu! c’mon” ami grabs your arm, giving osamu a kirt wave before dragging you into the kitchen where a few familiar faces stood around. you two pour yourselves drink after drink, conversing with some girls you ran into.

“atsumu!” one of the girls waves behind you. you hear him approach, turning around to face him. rintarou stood across the room with the osamu, keeping an eye once he saw the blonde come up to you.

“if it isn’t my favorite girl! how are you, gorgeous?” he slings a strong arm around your shoulder. if you weren’t in such a good mood you probably would have shrugged him off.

“hi, miya” you play into it, giving him a friendly smile. but still, rintarou lingered in the back of your mind.

“miya? ouch, no need to be so formal to the future love of your life.” he puts a dramatic hand to his heart, as if he’d been stabbed. you just roll your eyes, moving his arm and stepping away from him. he puts on his usual pout, ignoring the other girls who were trying to get his attention.

“you’re funny. should be a comedian instead of an athlete.” you comment, taking a sip from the plastic cup in your hand. you ignore the familiar burning sensation of the alcohol in your throat.

“i think that’s the only compliment you’ve ever given me, i’m flattered.”

you roll your eyes at his antics. you should’ve expected this from him.

rin watches from the side, downing his drink a little too fast.

“don’t let atsumu rile you up, man. dude’s just trying to rebound from his last girlfriend who dumped him.” osamu reassures the tall middle blocker, noticing his glaring at his brother.

“rebound? he’s trying to hook up with her or something?” suna’s grip on the cup tightens at the thought of you even being near atsumu in that way.

“who knows, he’s been crushing on her since like second year. why do you care so much anyways? i thought you saw her like a- oh.” his eyes soften. he got it. the time he got lunch with suna a week ago, noticing the hickies on his neck. him mentioning that you were staying at their house over the break.

you two were fucking.

“jesus dude, does your sister know?” he questions, his voice getting a little quieter.

“huh? what, no. we’re both adults, i don’t see why…” rintarou drags on, noticing the way the blonde twin was getting closer and closer to you.

“then why do you- hey! where are you going?” the grey haired twin calls after him, but he just ignores him.

your eyes meet rin’s as he approaches. a hint of relief washing over you. osamu took this chance to chat up ami.

“what’s goin on, dude?” suna puts a hand on the setter’s shoulder.

“suna! missed seein’ you around!” the tipsy man gives his attention to his old friend, giving you a chance to slip away. you give ami some excuse like ‘need some fresh air.’ she just nods, making sure you’re good before continuing her conversation with the calmer twin. you smile at the way her face lit up when talking to him.

you sit on a loungchair by the pool, far enough from everyone. you pull out your phone, giggling at the thought of how mad rintarou would be realizing his sister and bestfriend were flirting. it was kind of ironic though, given your own situation.

your mind started to wander. were you wrong for openly lying to your bestfriend who you adored so dearly? you’d liked rin for years, but since you guys started hooking up, you’ve had a guilty conscience.

what even were you two? you weren’t dating, but more than friends. the stolen kisses you two shared when ami wasn’t in the room. the looks you give each other over dinner or when passing in the hallway. it would all be over in a weeks time. would he move on? find someone else to occupy his time?

“what are you staring at?” the low voice you know oh to well cuts through your thoughts. you realize you spaced out, staring into the changing colors of the pool lights. suna takes a seat next to you on the spacious chair.

“nothing, just thinking.” you shrug, bringing your gaze back to him.

“what are you doing out here?” you add, picking up your drink from the floor and taking a sip. he gives you a small smile.

“couldn’t let you sit out here all alone. especially if tsumu tried hitting on you again.” he watches as your lips meet the cup. your eyebrow quirked.

“hmm. someone jealous?” you smirk, placing your drink back down on the floor, your head already dizzy from all the alcohol you’ve already had. plus your close proximity to the man in front of you did not help.

he snorts. “of him? no way. if you wanted him you would’ve gone for it years ago. plus-“ he leans a little closer. “-he’s not the one who got to fuck you.” oh the liquor made him bold.

it was true, he wasn’t jealous of the setter himself. he was more jealous at the thought of anyone else having you. especially when you leave in a week.

“y’know, tokyo’s only like, three hours away from where i go.” he says. he refuses to look away from you. you just look so good.

“what are you implying?” you cross one leg over the other, leaning a little back to get a better look at him.

“i-i don’t know. just mentioning it.” you scoff at his sudden dry response. your heart feeling a small pang of hurt from remembering what atsumu told you just a few minutes ago before rin came over to save you from his nagging.

‘aw that’s cute. looking over at suna over there. y’know he told me he sees you as a little sister. such a sweet guy looking out for you like that.’ the worst part is he wasn’t even trying to be sarcastic or spiteful, just genuinely praising suna.

“right…” you sigh, standing up to leave. before you can even turn around he reaches for your hand.

“hey, what’s wrong?” his voice is full of worry. your shoulders slump, he stands to meet your height. he still held onto your hand, his thumb rubbing gently over your knuckles.

“i-i’m just drained. think i’m gonna walk back home.” your skin tingles at the way he’s so gentle with you. compared to the way he was in sports.

“let me walk you.”

“no, that’s not necessary rin.”

“you’re drunk, i’m not gonna let you walk home alone.”

“i’m not even that-“ you start, but he cuts you off with a stern scold of your own name.

“fine… but let me text your sister first.” you sigh, sending her a quick ‘don’t feel too god, rintarou’s gonna take me home. are you ok? we can stay if you want.’

she sends back a text that makes you giggle. ‘oh girl, do not worry about me’ you look up and spot her with osamu, she gives you a thumbs up. you knew you were right. she’s been wanting to hop on the samu train since high school. glad she finally got the chance.

‘don’t wait up. probably gonna stay here tonight. do NOT tell my brother he will murder me and samu both.’

you laugh at your phone, suna gives you a confused look.

“what’s so funny?”

“oh, nothing. let’s go.”

you two snuck out the back gate, not wanting to draw any attention. it was bad enough you two were walking out together, a lingering mark still on his neck from just a few days ago.

“you still cold?” he asks, your shoulders brushing as you walk down the dark street.

“nah, ami was right. tequila warms me right up.” you say. plus the close proximity to him kept you warm, his body heat radiating from under his jacket. it stayed silent for a few moments before you speak up.

“was… was atsumu telling the truth?” you say, looking up at him.

“what did that idiot say this time?” he gives a small laugh.

“that you think of me as a sister.” this makes him stop dead in his tracks. he looks at you nervously.

“do you really think we’d have done all we did if i thought that?” he says, pushing a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. you shrug, making him sigh.

“i said that shit in high school. before…”

“before what?” you peer up at him, his callused hands moving to cup your face.

“before i realized i… had feelings for you.” he confesses, making your eyes widen.

when rintarou first realized he was in love with you, it was a little later than when you developed your own crush on him. it was your eighteenth birthday, suna was nineteen and in his first year of college. ami threw you a suprise party at her house, inviting all your friends. you wore your prettiest little outfit. ami even convinced her uncle to get you guys some beers, needless to say, the birthday girl drank most of them.

when the night went on, you spotted rin nursing his own beer on the couch. you come up to him, sitting maybe a little too close than you meant to.

“why’re you sulking here by yourself. s’my birthday! i command you to have some fun, rintarou.” the way you said his name made something stir inside of him. your body faced his, you didn’t even notice the way your dress rode up on your thighs, or the way his eyes immediately went down to them.

“how’s it feel to finally be an adult?” he says, forcing his eyes back on yours.

“s’alright. kinda anticlimactic but i’m glad m’here. glad you’re here.” you admit, the alcohol clearly making you more bold. his eyes widen a little. you weren’t just his little sister’s best friend, you were a smart, funny, beautiful woman. he’s always known you were pretty, it was obvious. but he’d never had a genuine conversation with you like this.

you two talked for half an hour. everytime you’d smile or laugh at something he said, his heart beat would quicken in his chest.

your head whipped when you heard a call of your name from one of your friends. “c’mon! we got you a cake!”

he never forgot the smile you had on your face when your friends put this much effort into your birthday. it just proved what a good, special person you were. he found himself not wanting you to leave, wanting you to stay talking with him. the nagging pain in his heart when you got up to leave, giving him a cute little wave and a ‘talk to you later!’

then it all clicked.

years of glaring at any boy who approached you, smiling whenever he’d see you in the stands of his games cheering him on, the small tingle of excitment in his chest when he knew you were coming over to see his sister.

he’d loved you for so long, and he never even realized it. not until you left for college, leaving him with his own feelings to sort through. so when he found out you were staying with them over the break, god was he estatic on the inside.

you two stand only a few houses down from his. you could easily walk over and continue the conversation there, but he needed you. needed you to know how much he truly cared.

“oh” a hint of nerves crawled up your spine. your head spins. you’d been this close so many times before, but behind closed doors. except that one time in the kitchen.

but he held you in the middle of the street, not caring that anyone could walk out of their house and see you two. his forehead presses against yours, breathing in your air.

you didn’t know what to say, so you just lean up on your tipy toes and peck his lips, making him smile. he wraps his arms around your waist, not a chance of letting you pull away from him.

“rin, someone might see.” you giggle into the kiss, he just shakes his head gently.

“i don’t give a fuck, let them.”

you stand in his room. it hadn’t changed very much since the very few times you’d peeked in walking past it before. a few hoodies laid out in his chair from when he was deciding what to wear earlier.

he had a few posters on his walls, some of random volleyball teams and even some random bands. the room smelled like him.

“here, drink some water.” he walks back in, closing the door behind him as he hands you a clear plastic bottle. you take it, your hand brushing with his own. you seat yourself on the edge of his bed, tapping your foot against the carpeted floor anxiously. you take a few sips to relieve your nerves.

“you look really good tonight.” his voice cuts through the silence. your head perks up, eyes meeting his.

“so i don’t look good every other night?” you give him a playful smile. he scoffs, hopping on the bed next to you, making the mattress squeak.

“you know what i mean.” his large hand finds your own, playing with you fingers.

this was probably the first time in the last few weeks you’d been alone for this long together without fucking.

“osamu knows about… us.” his hand doesn’t leave your own. your eyebrow quirks.

“you told him?” you softly ask, not angry or demanding. if anything, you were somewhat flattered he wanted people to know.

“he figured it out. mentioned i was ‘oogling’ you too hard” he gives a small chuckle, squeezing your hand gently. his small little acts of affection always made you relax into his touch. you lead your head on his strong shoulder, sighing.

“you think he’ll tell ami?” you peek up at him, moving a peice of his dark hair away from his eyes. he just shrugs.

“probably not. even if he does it wouldn’t be the worst thing.” he kisses your forehead.

“i’d rather her find out when i’m hours away. i don’t need to be murdered in my sleep for lying to her.” you reply. he just laughs.

“c’mon. you’re the only girl she’d ever approve of me being with. she loves you, my parents love you, i-“

you cut him off with a kiss to his surprisingly soft lips, pulling him in by the nape of his neck.

he smiles into the kiss, his hands going to your waist to bring you closer.

“c’mere” he grabs your hips, helping you straddle his lap, facing him. you hold back a gasp when you feel his half hard dick

“someone’s impatient…” you mumble into his mouth, he bites your lip in retort. you try to pull back but his mouth just follows yours, hands gripping your waist for dear life so you didn’t fall right off his lap.

“look so pretty in your little skirt-“ one of his hands reaches under your skirt, groping your ass through your panties, making you gasp.

“-wanted to drag you in the bathroom and fuck you over the counter.” his kisses go down your jaw, sucking new marks into your neck and collarbones.

“jesus, rin.” your voice is needy. you unconsciously grind your hips into his, needing some some sort of friction. the action made him groan.

your breath catches in your throat when he switches your positions, you laying on your back on his bed while he stands over you. his eyes go to your lifted skirt, holding back a groan when he sees the growing wet patch on the fabric of your panties.

he breathes out your name, looking up at you while slowly kissing down your exposed thighs, kneeling down. you squirm under him, he just gives your thigh a threatening squeeze. “stay still, pretty.” his nose finds your clothed clit, making you gasp.

“y-you don’t have to-“

“shush. i want to, so badly.” he assures, licking your clothed cunt. the fabric adding to the stimulation, making you grip his sheets underneath you.

he slides your soaked panties to the side, the cool air hitting your now exposed pussy.

“always so pretty for me.” he immediately delves into your cunt, lapping up and down you folds before focusing on your clit. you let out mewls of his name, gripping at his dark locs of hair.

he brings you closer to him, his arms locking under your thighs so he’s holding you up to his mouth. he could do this forever.

he moans into your wetness, the sounds of your pleasure making him practically get off. he slowly grinded his own hips into the bed, but not letting himself cum unless it was with you.

you’d never felt like this before. the constant laps of his hot tongue compared to his mouth sucking on your clit making you clench your thighs around him. he groaned at a certain harsh tug to his hair, the vibrations on your pussy only adding to the pleasure.

what really got you close to the edge though was when his tongue prods itself into your tight hole, making you try and pull away from how overwhelmed you were with how good it felt.

“f-fuck, rin, s’too much.” your thighs start to shake around his head, but he only speeds up. his nose catching on your clit while his tongue dips into you, pumping in and out. you let out a loud moan when you start to cum around his tongue, suna not even daring to stop. if all he could eat for the rest of his life was your pussy, he’d be between your legs all day everyday.

your hips roll into his face, wetness coating his chin and nose. you have to push his head away when it starts to get too much. he pulls away, panting. he wipes his mouth with his sleeve, crawling up on top of you to kiss you. you sigh into the kiss when you taste yourself on his tounge. it got you aroused all over again.

“rinnn” you whine, hands tugging at his hoodie.

“what’s up, baby?” he kisses your cheek, a smug smirk on his face looking down at you. he looked absolutely heavenly looking over you, hands on either side of your head.

“need you” you pout up at him.

“what do you need, hmm?” he sits up on his knees to pull his hoodie over his head, his bare chest and toned abs on display. you practically moan just at the sight of him. you’d never get bored of this view.

“you- your cock… please” your hands go straight to his abs, kissing down his pecs and stomach. he chuckles at you, hand smoothing down your hair.

“want me t’make you feel good?” he pushes your shoulders back down so your back is completley pressed against the sheets. you nod frantically.

“anything for my gorgeous girl.” he slides his pants and boxers off, throwing them somewhere on the floor. while he does this you take your chance to rip your top off, along with your bra.

he crawls back over you, slotting himself between your legs. you look at him expectedly as he pulls out his already hard cock. pre cum already leaking from his raging pink tip.

he lines himself up with you, impatiently siding himself into your needy hole.

you’d never felt him from this angle before, the way he was perfectly slotted inside of you.

he slowly moves his hips, cock sliding deliciously in and out of you. your eyes screw shut.

“g-god rin, feels so good, fuck!” your hands go straight to his shoulders, not caring how badly your manicured nails were dragging down his arms.

but it wasn’t enough for him. he grabs your legs, hoisting them over his shoulders as he pumps even deeper.

“there we go. so f-fucking perfect, baby.” his breath hitched as his pace quickens, fucking into you at the perfect speed and angle.

you let out the most borderline pornographic moan when the head of his cock hits that spongey spot deep inside of you. his hand goes to pinch and tug at your nipples, making you mewl.

“rinn!” you cry out as he pounds into you relentlessly. this was by far your favorite angle with him.

“right here, pretty.” he wants nothing more than to reach down and kiss you, but he didn’t wanna hurt your poor legs. plus you felt so good he didn’t wanna move. so instead his thumb goes to your slick pussy, rubbing and pinching at your clit.

“so fuckin’ messy.” he grunts, your cunt practically trapping him in. you watch as he spits down where you two meet, adding extra lubricant. the sight made you feel so dirty, but so fucking good.

his eyes watched the way his cock entered you so insanley perfectly. like you were made to take him. the wet noises coming from your arousal whenever he thrusts in and out and the sounds of your mixed moans filled the quiet room.

his head rolls back and he groans, he wanted to kiss you so bad.

“fuck- switch. want you to ride me.” you pout when he pulls out, leaving you feeling so empty.

you sit up, as he sits leaning against the headboard. he gives his cock a few pumps when he watches you climb on him, hands on his shoulders as you line his cock up with you. his hands hold your waist for support as you sink yourself down onto him.

you let out a moan when he’s fully seated inside of you. you move off of him almost all the way, bouncing yourself up and down his cock.

“oh-“ you moan as he snaps up his own hips to meet your own. you hear as his head slams against the wooden headboard with a grunt.

he grabs your throat, bringing you in to kiss him. it was messy and needy. all tongue and teeth at how fucked out you both were. he pulls back, his hand still lingering on your throat as the roll of your hips gets faster and faster.

his eyes focus on the marks he left on your neck, running a finger over the fresh dark purple hickies lingering all over your neck and chest. then his eyes go to your bouncing tits, grabbing them and bringing one into his mouth.

you groan when he bites down.

“rin- can’t anymore. g’nna cum” you whine out, your hips getting tired and messy. he sits up more straight, grabbing your hips and slamming up into you, making your eyes roll back.

“cum all over my cock, baby. told ya i’d make you feel good.” sweat beaded up by his brow, he was focusing on his thrusts.

“c-cum inside me rin! please, wanna feel you inside.” you plead. brain feeling like it’s short circuiting, the only thing running through your brain was how good his cock felt pumping inside of you.

he kisses you as you moan into his mouth, cuming around him and squeezing his dick. he pulses inside of you, warm cum filling you up as you share eachothers moans. your kiss goes from rushed and hot to sweet and tender as you come down from your orgasms. neither one of you makes a move to pull away, his cock softening inside of you.

“again?” you pant, kissing his cheek and looking at him with pleading eyes.

you yelp when he pinches your waist, but it turns into a small whine when you feel him get hard inside of you again.

“you’re gonna kill me, gorgeous.”

the clock read 6:28 AM. the sun was barely rising, you lie on rintarou’s chest as you two peacefully slept, his arm wrapped securely around your waist. his fluffy blanket wrapped snug around you.

the front door quietly creeks open, and shuts.

“shit that was loud as fuck” a hushed high pitched voice whispers. the younger suna sneaks up the stairs, shoes in hand, expecting to find you asleep in her bedroom. but the room was empty. the house was silent, her brother’s door closed.

hmm, that’s weird. you guys came back from the party, right?

ami knocks on her brother’s door, loudly in attempt to wake him up.

“hellooo?” she asks where you are, opening the door abruptly. “did you guys not come back from the party-“

“what the fuck?!”

a/n: need suna (requests) i love this man.

masterlist

[prettiestlovergirl]

YOU CAN BE THE BOSS

tw: MDNI; fem!reader; slytherin! reader; unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it); rough sex; degradation kink; hair pulling; dacryphilia; begging; some drinking; dom! mattheo; bratty! reader; french! mattheo; impact play.

concept: you and mattheo have been enemies with benefits for a while now, but after you score higher on a test... he wants to make sure you still remember your place with him ;) song: you can be the boss by lana del rey

a/n: still pushing the french! mattheo agenda bcos bilingual men make me go weak in the knees (and ruin my panties). my french is still shit, they do not teach you kinky pet names in high school french class! so bear with me you guys. enjoy, my lovelies! 𓆩♡𓆪

mattheo riddle was the bane of your existence and the source of all your most recent orgasms.

you couldn't stand each other! he thought you were an insufferable know-it-all and you thought he was a cocky asshole. if it were up to you, you'd have never had to interact with him again.

then, after one late night in the library, it was like a flip had switched on in you both. you still couldn't stand each other, sure, but suddenly you both seemed much more bearable to the other when his cock was bruising your cervix.

and thus began the new phase of your relationship: taunting and teasing each other in public and then fucking out your grievances in private. it was the perfect system, really.

today, you had been particularly insufferable to him. you'd scored exactly two points higher on a charms test and hadn't stopped gloating. you needed to be brought down a peg or two, and mattheo knew just how to do it.

you were both in the common room, the quidditch team having thrown a party to celebrate your house victory in the game against ravenclaw.

you were certainly cocky today and you knew it, your small academic victory had made you a bit giddy. normally, you wouldn't have cared, but mattheo was so annoyed by it, you couldn't help but rub it in! how were you to know that there'd be consequences to your actions?!

when your eyes finally landed on mattheo, he'd been holding a red solo cup and talking with theo in the corner. he looked hot, not that you'd ever tell him that. he didn't need his ego getting any bigger.

you were used to him pouncing on you almost immediately after you spotted him, so when your eyes landed on him and he didn't even look over? you instantly knew that it was him being petty.

well, if he wanted to be petty, two could certainly play that game! he wanted you to come crawling to him and beg him to fuck you? you'd rather die! well, not die, but you know.

mattheo could feel your eyes on him, but he made no effort to look your way or give you any attention. if you wanted him, you had to put in the work tonight. if you wanted to be stubborn, he was more than willing to go home alone and leave you to suffer.

the next hour consisted of you trying to gain his attention in a multitude of ways. you flirted with blaise, danced with theo, even left a perfect imprint of your lipstick on draco, and nothing. little did you know, he kept a tally of every little act for... later use.

he continued to ignore you, despite the fact that he wanted nothing more than to grab you and fuck you right there in front of everybody. you weren't his girlfriend, but you were still fucking his, and you were absolutely gonna pay for your teasing.

after another 20 minutes, you were done. he was sitting back on the couch, the usual picture of cocky and casual that both turned you on more and simultaneously made you want to slap him across the face. it was a fine little line you walked daily.

you walked up to him, arms crossed over your chest as you narrowed your eyes at him. "fine! you win." you hissed, only to be met with his stupid smug smirk.

"i'm sorry? not sure what you mean, ma douce, (my sweet) what exactly did i win?" he questioned, giving you a fake n innocent look. "i win at so much, gonna need you to be more specific."

you should have just walked away. he was too cocky, it made your skin crawl, but fuck you needed him. "this! this stupid little game your playing, you win, i give up, lets go. now." you felt like a child, wanting to stomp your foot on the ground and beg for his stupid attention.

"ah, well, since you asked so nicely." he grinned, taking his sweet time getting off the couch and setting his cup down. he didn't grab your hand or look back to see if you followed him up the stairs; he knew you would.

"you are such a sore fucking loser!" you huffed once the door was closed, making him laugh at your annoyance and frustration. "so fucking dramatic." he smirked, hands already slipping under your skirt to grab your ass.

you moved to kiss him, but he turned his head away, instead choosing to place his lips on your neck. "dick." you whined, nails scraping over the nape of his neck while his teeth sunk harshly into your skin. "who? me. i'm being nice, don't want to ruin your pretty make-up, môme" (brat) he scoffed back, rolling his eyes at your dramatics.

you dug your nails into his skin as retaliation, but it only resulted in him spanking your ass so hard you yelped out. "un tel putain de gosse" (you're such a fucking child) he murmured as he brought his hands up and unbuttoned your school shirt.

his hands moved quickly to push the fabric off your shoulders, but his mouth moved slow and rough as he let his teeth graze over as much of your bare skin as he could. he might have been annoyed with you, but fuck did he love seeing you covered in his work.

you were getting desperate for more and he knew it, the slowness of his actions entirely purposeful. "mattheo, please." you begged, head leaned back as he smirked against your skin. "please, what? you know i like it when you use your words."

"i hate you." you grumbled, hissing lightly at the pain of his fingers digging into your waist. "sorry, 'm sorry!" you huffed, biting your lip before going on. "please fuck me. now." you half begged; half demanded.

"that's more like it." he smirked, spinning you around and smacking your ass once again. "get on the bed, salope (slut). on your stomach" he commanded, and you happily complied. you laid down on the bed, ass up in the air just like he'd told you to.

"putain (fuck), look at you." mattheo sighed, lifting your skirt up with his hands while he dragged your panties down just under your thighs. he used his hands to keep your spread open, admiring your already glistening pussy.

"you've been so cocky all fucking day, flirting around, bragging. what would they all say if they could see you now? all soaked and desperate." he cooed, dragging his thumb all the way through your folds.

you whined a bit, hips attempting to grind against his hand the best you could before his other hand came back up and spanked you harshly. "gotta stay still, ma douche (my sweet). don't wanna see your pretty little head get hurt." he teased, rubbing over your warm skin.

"s-sorry." you nodded, instantly whining as he pulled away from you. you kept facing the wall, but you could hear his belt being undone and him stripping right behind you.

mattheo groaned as he wrapped his hand around his cock, moving it up and down a few times as he admired the view of you all ready for him.

you wiggled your hips a bit, desperately waiting for him to put you out of your misery and fuck you. he chuckled at your desperation, smacking his cock against your ass just to hear you gasp and moan out.

"tease!" you huffed, grabbing the bedsheets gently as he started to slowly, teasingly, rub his cock through your wet folds. he was just trying to make sure your wetness was spread evenly, that's all! he was being a good fuck buddy.

"fuck, mattheo, please!" you begged, closing your eyes as he continued to tease and mess with your puffy cunt until you were close to tears.

"i had to watch you walk around, flirting with all my fucking friends like a fucking salope. (slut) now you're here, whining and begging for me to do you a favor? doesn't work like that, ma douce (my sweet). you take what i give you, got it?" he asked, spanking you again for good measure.

"'m sorry! 'm sorry, i know, but please, mattheo! need you!" you begged, his hand moving to hold your hip down to keep you from squirming while your arousal dripped all over his cock.

"you gonna be a good girl f'me? if i fuck you real nice, are you gonna keep running your mouth downstairs?" he asked, to which you immediately nodded. "yes! yes, i'll be so good, won't say a word, promise, just please!" you whimpered.

"well, if you promise." he teased, and thrusted all the way into your soaked pussy. he groaned as your walls fluttered around him. you'd fucked dozens of times at this point, but he never got tired of feeling your walls squeeze his cock.

he moved painfully slow, tearing out whines of anguish and frustration from your throat as you gripped his bedsheets. "what's wrong, ma douce (my sweet)? i thought you wanted me to fuck you." he mocked, squeezing your ass tightly.

"please, please, please!" you whined, desperate tears starting to drip down your cheeks as he pulled almost all the way out before slowly and roughly thrust all the way back in. you could feel every inch of him filling you up over and over.

"'m just doing what you asked, ma douce (my sweet). or do you need even more from me?" he scoffed, squeezing and massaging your ass as he continued his slow thrusts.

you instantly nodded, not caring that he was mocking you n calling you greedy. you were too fucking desperate and needy for him and all your tears only seemed to make him want to tease more.

"tellement putain de gourmande." (so fucking greedy) mattheo smirked, punctuating his words with another slap to your ass before finally giving in to your pleads for more and speeding up his thrusts.

"fuck! yes, thank you, thank you, fuck yes!" you moaned, his hips snapping roughly into yours as his free hand gathered your hair into a ponytail, tugging you back and making your back arch.

"such a needy fucking brat, what am i gonna do with you?" he scoffed, looking over your teary face as you continued to moan and whine as he fucked you rough and hard.

you couldn't speak, mind already so hazy from the way his cock stretched your walls. he pulled you into a sloppy kiss, swallowing your moans and squeaks of pure fucking bliss.

he tasted like the malt liquor he'd been drinking from before and you swore you were getting drunk off the taste. he sunk his teeth into your lower lip, groaning against you as he bullied your pussy again and again with no remorse.

your walls fluttered and clenched around his cock, signaling just how close you were to cumming. "mm, please, make me cum, please!" you whimpered against him as he pulled away from your lips, hand still tightly fisting your hair as he fucked you.

"that's it, that's ma douce (my sweet). be a good fucking girl and cum on my cock, yeah? cum all over my fucking cock." he commanded, watching as your legs shook on either side of him while you coated his cock in your creamy slick.

he let go of your hair and you practically collapsed against the bed, face smushing into the sheets. he continued to fuck into you, groaning at how much tighter you felt now that you came.

you whined as the overstimulation started to set in, but you were unable to squirm with your legs all jellylike and his hand keeping you in place. you sobbed in pure bliss, staining his sheets with your mascara and tears.

"fuck, that's it fuck." he grunted, biting his lip harshly as he slowed down. "fuck yourself on me, ma douce (my sweet). make me cum." he demanded, drawing another whiny cry from your lips.

"c'mon, you want to be a good girl, don't you? thought you were sorry for being such a brat, huh? fuck yourself on me." he cooed, kneading your ass while you pouted but nodded and forced yourself back up.

you rocked your hips back against him, working at a sluggish pace as you were still too blissed out to function normally. the alcohol n orgasm n cock still filling you up left your brain numb and blank.

after a few more rocks of your hips, he pulled out of you and started to tug his cock until his cum shot onto your back. he watched as your swollen n gummy cunt leaked with your juices, panting as he watched you collapse and he laid down beside you.

you both laid there until you both caught your breath. your eyes were heavy n you were already starting to doze off when he nudged you. "c'mon, lets get you cleaned up." he smirked, pushing himself off the bed.

"whatever you say..." you mumbled sleepily.

ᵈⁱᵛⁱᵈᵉʳ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵇʸ @ᵐᵘʳᵘᶠᶠⁱⁿ