#I feel like I made her leaning back too much

[bangaveragewhitewine]

⋆⁺₊❅ meet the parents

single dad Eddie Munson x single mom Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Summary: For my fourth and final fic of @littlexdeaths The Twelve Days of Promptmas, I bring you a romcom-worthy meet cute! A one-night stand in a small town is always a dangerous game.

Content: Eddie and Reader are both single parents. Modern AU. P in V and oral sex. Too many feelings for a one-night stand. Reader’s shitty ex mention. Small town dynamics. Light on Christmas, heavy on Eddie being a sexy menace. If you see any typos/messy sentences lmk!!

Just an extra little note to say the biggest THANK YOU to @littlexdeaths for putting together these wonderful Promptmas ideas, and for just being completely lovely and amazing too. I have had such a fun few weeks working on writing again, it’s been a crazy few months for me personally so this has been the best way to get back into writing and feeling creative again!! I’ve loved every minute ❤️

✨bang average festive fics✨ Eddie Munson fics ✨Dividers by @strangergraphics✨

It has been quite a few years since you woke up in a stranger’s bed. 

More used to the morning time routine of trying to get a sleepy six-year-old up and ready for the day, or the heartwarming feeling of said six-year-old making her way into your bed to cuddle on sleepy Sundays, you feel a little out of your depth this morning.

And some degree of hungover. 

But it could be worse, you supposed. The stranger’s bed was comfy and he had plenty of pillows for you to sleep on. His sheets were clean and he had not totally smothered you like a limpet all night, nor had he expected you to get up and leave while you were still catching your breath. He was a fairer bedmate than your daughter, and it was pleasant to wake up with the warm weight of his inked arm around you rather than a kid’s-size-twelve foot digging into your ribs, or her hair in your mouth. 

You sink into the comfort of it all, relishing that long-forgotten post-great-sex ache all over and the feeling of waking after a deep and dreamless sleep. You had not been this well-rested in almost seven years.

Next to you, he is asleep on his stomach with his arm across your middle. The room is dusky dark, but you can still make out the tattoos along his pale bare body and the glint of his nose ring, the spill of long dark hair piled up on his head. He is much softer now than when you met in the bar last night, no coy smirk or wolfish grin, no deep dimples on his cheeks. His whiskey eyes are still shut, and you feel warm all over when you remember how he had looked at you like you were the only woman in the bar, in the world, last night. How he had taken you home and taken you apart right here in his navy sheets. 

Carefully, trying not to wake the man next to you, you ease yourself up to check your phone.  It’s far too early to worry about picking Hazel up yet.

Not for the first time, you say a silent thanks to the universe for your neighbour for agreeing to babysit Hazel so that you could have a well-deserved Christmas night out with the friends you had made at work. You will bring her a nice hand-tied bouquet from the shop next week, just because. Without Claudia and her kindness to lean on, you know that going it alone in this small new town would so be much harder. It had been serendipitous really, moving in next door to an older and wiser woman who had been in the very same position as you when her son was not much older than Hazel. You begin piecing together the perfect bouquet for her, eucalyptus and rose and red ribbon, distracting yourself briefly from the dull ache in your head and the dry feeling on your tongue.

He brought you a glass of water before you fell asleep together. It’s cool in your throat, though it barely touches the sides of the discomfort pressing behind your brows. When the glass is mostly empty, you settle back next to him and let yourself doze for a little longer.

Eddie instinctively pulls you closer in his sleep, his warm morning breath tickling your shoulder and neck. You know it is just temporary, he is still a stranger, but let yourself enjoy the fleeting comfort while it lasts.

“Morning.”

His voice is rough and smoky, and there’s a tired smile waiting for you when you open your eyes a while later. You are struck by how pretty he is, handsome and hot but pretty with it; long dark lashes and doe-eyes, cheekbones to die for.

“Hi,” you whisper back. You feel yourself smiling back at him, feeling dreamy and oh-so-comfortable. You stretch your body out, relishing the rush of blood and oxygen to your muscles and your eyes drop closed again at that so-good feeling.

“Sleeping Beauty.” 

When Eddie kisses your hair, you miss how he closes his eyes and savours the moment; you are too busy basking in the unexpected tenderness of this one-night stand, the easiness of waking up slow with a man you met less than twelve hours ago. Even if it is just for this morning, you soak it up. 

“Mhmm. You have a comfy bed,” you whisper, looking up at him again. 

You brush your fingertips along his silver chain before tracing up to his jaw, past the tendrils of hair escaping his scrunchie. You know the feeling of that dark grown-out and nicely-maintained stubble, how it brushed and burned so good on the inside of your thighs, how it feels against your lips. 

Tentatively, bravely, you press your mouth against his and feel his smile. It’s sweet, slow. Intimate and lovely.

“Yeah? M’glad you think so,” he murmurs and steals one more kiss before pulling you against his body. 

Last night as you basked in the afterglow, Eddie asked so quietly if he could hold you and you almost teared up about it. It had been a long time since anyone had held you like that, like he is holding you again this morning.  It has been a long time since anyone has been sweet to you, shared closeness and intimacy like this. Not since the man you loved upped and left, leaving you and one-year-old Hazel with only each other to love. 

You feel the strength of his arms and the softness of his belly. There’s a stirring, hardening interest against your thigh and yet he’s not being too forward or pushy. He’s just holding you, just ‘coz. 

“I don’t… S’a while since I had a sleepover,” he admits, running his blunt nails over the small of your back. “You didn’t hog the covers, and you didn’t sneak off without saying bye…”

Eddie pulls back a little, wearing that small flirty smile that made you swoon last night. His voice is so playful, even though it is deep with morning huskiness. 

“Still here,” you whisper back, “I… It’s been a while for me too. I don’t usually… Yeah.” You shrug, you know he gets it. 

There is a glint of something in his eyes before he looks up at the ceiling. “I’m glad we did. I had fun.” 

The dimple in his cheek is beautiful and bashful, and when he looks at you again his eyes go right to your lips.

“Me too.” You touch his chain again and tug gently to bring your lips together again, putting you both out of your misery.

No one has ever kissed you like Eddie did last night, with all-consuming lust that made you feel electric. He is a blend of rough and smooth, a firm guiding hand followed by a gentle caress. You have never felt so wanted, so craved.

The way he kisses you this morning pushes aside the thoughts of all you need to do today. All you know is want, the cloying feeling of wanting to touch and be touched, craving pleasure. With his hands to guide, you straddle his lap and lean into the feeling of his fingertips wandering past the hem of the t-shirt he loaned you last night. 

Eddie looks up at you like you’re some sort of deity, his eyes and lips shining as you peel off the t-shirt and throw it behind you, leaving yourself bare in his lap. He was not put off by the stretch marks, or the Mom Body you felt so self-conscious about sometimes. Nor was he put off by the fact that you are a Mom. Eddie had simply smiled when you briefly mentioned your daughter, told you he had his own little girl without giving too much away. With that fresh layer of yourselves on show, you could understand each other just a little bit more without going full gushing-parent mode, sharing pictures of your little angels or ranting about who loved Bluey and loathed Peppa more. 

His fingers run over the stretch marks on your hips, starting up a slow grind as he kisses your neck (remembering your ‘no marks’ rule). There is a slight chill in the air to remind you that beyond this liminal bliss, it is a frosty December morning, but Eddie warms you up and distracts you without second thought. 

In the gauzy light, you see touches of fatherhood around his room, easily missed in the passion of last night - a framed drawing on his bedside table, a kiddie hair clip in his ring dish. You smile to yourself and shiver when his warm breath skates over the damp trail of kisses.

“Pretty smile,” he murmurs, needing to taste and feel it again. 

Hands wander and squeeze and you get drunk on each other all over again in the cocoon of Eddie’s bed. You blindly follow his dark treasure trail before taking him in hand, hot and diamond-hard, and savour the taste and sound of his moan. Your aching need for him is tempered and satiated by his fingers and you flush hot all over when he encourages you to scoot up and let him taste you, almost begging for it. Dazed with want, you find yourself clinging to the headboard with white knuckles and his name spilling from your lips. 

Eddie could die a happy man with your thighs bracketing his head. The taste of you makes him feel drunk as you take your pleasure from him; the needy roll of your hips is encouraged by his greedy hands in contrast to how cautious and careful you had been not to trap and tug his hair beneath your knees. 

When you are sufficiently dumb with pleasure, he lays you back against the pillows and lays out his desire for you in between messy kisses, losing his train of thought when you get your hand back on him and whisper back your need for him to fuck you now. Eddie reaches blindly for the (blessedly still-in-date) box of foil-wrapped packets in his drawer, not wanting to look away from you for even a moment.

He holds your hand as he makes love to you and you have to remind yourself not to get too caught up in how sweet Eddie is, even when he his making you feel like you have never been so full; sweetness and filthy words wound together so sweetly. It’s overwhelming and he catches you fighting tears when you feel too good. 

“Hey,” he whispers, wearing too much worry between his brows. “Do you want to stop, sweetheart? Am I hurting you?”

A guy being decent should not make your heart swell like this, and yet it does. You shake your head, tears spill over and he brushes them away with care.

“No, no. You’re not hurting me,” you promise. “I feel really good. S’just a lot.” 

Your voice wobbles and he smiles fondly against your mouth, relieved and happy to be wanted in return. 

Eddie has this magnetism, warm and cloying and a little mysterious; it makes you feel comfortable even when he’s teasing you and making you flush hot all over. 

“Yeah, baby? That’s what I’m here for,” he whispers, and kisses you slowly, sweetly. “Let me make you feel good.” You feel like your heart could beat out of your chest. He can feel it hammering against him as he starts up a slow roll of his hips that fills you completely. 

Your fingers clutch at the sheets as Eddie fucks you into his mattress. Nothing else matters in those moments, only pleasure. You fight the urge to sink your teeth into the meat and muscle of his arm, lick the drip of sweat from his neck. Instead, you taste the way he moans your name and cling to him when you come just moments apart - you first, then him.

He shares his water with you afterwards when he sees your empty glass; you are both damp with sweat and lying side by side with your heartbeats pounding in your ears, the lingering taste of each other on your tongues.

When he kisses you again, his lips are water-cooled and tender.

“Can I make you some coffee? I have to pick up my little terror in a bit…” he says, already cringing at himself. “She’s great, I swear. I promised her diner pancakes for brunch.”

Reality trickles back in, a not-unpleasant cooling off of your morning together.

“Yeah, I should probably not show up in last night’s clothes to pick my kid up. Coffee sounds good.” 

There was always an expiry date on this; the boundaries of a one-night stand were set and familiar, despite how long it has been and despite how easy and intimate this morning has been. You’re both adults, both okay with it. 

“Cool.” He smiles and hauls himself out of bed, stepping into his lost and found again boxers before he doubles back to kiss your cheek. 

When your legs are steady enough he shows you how the shower works, leaving you to it with a new toothbrush, fresh towels and a familiar squeeze to your bare hip. There’s a little part of you that wants him to join you, waste hot water and let him press you against the cold tiles. Eddie wants that too, to delay your inevitable parting of ways and return to reality.

When you look in the mirror, you see a well-fucked woman; kiss-bitten lips and that long-lost post-sex glow. 

“What the fuck,” you murmur to yourself, giggling a little when you think over the last twelve hours. 

You had not gone out looking for a hookup last night, but you made the most of the festive excuse to go for drinks with the few friends you had made since moving to Hawkins six months ago. Catching Eddie’s eye at the bar had been a happy accident. A happy accident that lead to letting him buy you a drink, and then buying him one back. Your friends had wholeheartedly encouraged it, knew him to see around town and vouched for him as a mechanic. Good with his hands, they had teased. Oh, how right they had been.

The water is hot and Eddie’s shower gel is the typical ‘for men’ scented sort of thing. You feel fresh and clean when you step back into the bedroom, finding sweats and an Iron Maiden hoodie on the bed for you, alongside your clothes from last night (which Eddie has attempted to fold neatly, instead of leaving you to pick them up from the floor).

It should not make you smile so much, but your cheeks ache pleasantly as you dress yourself, opting for last night’s jeans with Eddie’s sweater. It’s washed-soft and smells like the detergent you have at home with a hint of his cologne.

You follow the scent of coffee and the sound of music downstairs, finding more traces of parenthood on your way - a purple fairy door on the baseboard,  a washing basket full of clean kids' clothes outside a closed bedroom door, light-up Skechers and silver glitter rain boots in the hall. There is something familiar about them, but brush it aside as something Hazel probably asked for in Target.

Eddie’s unbuttoned jeans hang low on his hips as he makes coffee in mismatched mugs, his hair is down tickling against his bare shoulders and back. There are drawings on the fridge and a Christmas tree peeking out from the living room. It feels like a happy home.

His eyes light up when he sees you, looking as hungry and enamoured by you in his hoodie as he had been when you were wearing nothing at all. 

“Do you take sugar, or are you sweet enough?” he asks, wearing a softer version of that panty-dropper smile from last night. He smells clean, minty and masculine, after a quick whore’s bath in the other bathroom.

“Just one,” you say, resting your hip against the kitchen island while you watch him fix up your coffee. “You’re smooth, huh?”

“You tell me.” He slides the mug across to you before blowing on his coffee, taking a still-too-hot sip that he tries and fails to cover. For a moment, you think he might be doing a bit, alas he is simply endearingly clumsy.

You feel bad laughing, but Eddie only pouts a little bit before grinning at you. There’s a faint blush on his cheeks and he ducks his head to hide behind his hair. 

“Real smooth.” 

Exercising patience, you decide to let your coffee cool a little.

“I’ll give you a ride home if you like?” he says, hoping it’s not too forward. 

He wants to be more forward, ask for your number and ask you out. He likes how his clothes fit your body, and how you looked blissed-out in his bed. While Eddie’s trying not to come off too strong, you appreciate his sweetness and fight your own internal battle of trying not to fall for your one-night stand.

“Yeah, that would be great. Thanks, Eddie. I’m over on Cornwallis, is that out of your way?”

He smiles a little, “I don’t mind a little detour, sweetheart.”

You pointedly blow on your coffee, learning from his mistake, and savour the made-just-right coffee in a Snoopy & Woodstock mug.

Over his shoulder, you spot a photo of a familiar man on the fridge, bookended by two heads of dark curly hair. There’s a handpainted fridge magnet with ‘Fae’ written in childishly charming pink writing, and you feel your cheeks flame.

He watches your face change, looks over his shoulder to see what you’re looking at. 

“Ah. That’s my Uncle Wayne, and Fae. My daughter. she’s six.” He unpins the picture and thumbs over it gently before turning it around to you.

You know exactly who they are, but take it anyway.

When you moved your life to Hawkins, Indiana six months ago, you would never have believed that you would make friends with a grandfather in his sixties outside of Curtain Call Dance Studio while you waited for Hazel. Making friends as a single Mom in a new town was not easy, you had little time outside of work and parenting for yourself, let alone socialising (and god forbid, dating). And then you parked next to Wayne one Thursday. He was a little quiet but had warmed up more each week; now he smiled when he saw you, asked how your job at the florists was and how Hazel was doing in school.

Even though they were in different First Grade class groups at Hawkins Elementary, Hazel and Fae had become almost inseparable in their dance classes and on the playground. 

You knew Fae’s dad worked late some evenings, so Wayne helped him out. Hazel had told you that she had seen Fae’s dad once when he picked her up early to go to the dentist, and that he had hair just like her friend.

“She looks just like me, it’s crazy - poor kid. I can’t believe she’s six. She’s supposed to be three, max. Y’know what I mean?” He says, showing you more of his proud Dad side before realising that your confusion is not because you’re looking at a picture of two clones. “You okay?”

“You’re Fae’s Dad? Fae Munson?” you ask, watching his shoulders tense a little as he nods. “Eddie. Our kids know each other. I’ve met Wayne.” 

He scowls slightly beneath his bangs, confused and a little worried that he hooked up with the mother of one of the kids who was mean to Fae in school, who told the teacher when she was ‘too chatty’ or when she stood up for herself.

The words spill from you untempered, unrestrained to clear it all up. “They’re at dance class together. They’re in the same grade. Hazel and Fae are friends, Eddie…”

He visibly softens, drops his shoulders, and even though he still looks confused he melts even more when an involuntary nervous laugh bubbles from your chest. 

“Seriously? No… You’re Hazel’s mom?” His eyes blow wide. “Fuck.” 

Eddie puts his head on the counter with a thunk, and you’re left with the photo of three smiling Munsons. Fae has her Dad’s eyes and hair, his impish mischief that had endeared you to the little girl. They really are alike.

“Wayne was right,” he says, muffled beneath his hair before peeking at you, “You are cute.” 

It makes you laugh more, though your cheeks feel like the surface of the sun.

“Wayne thinks I’m cute? Huh…”

“No. Nope,” he yelps, head flying up like a wild thing. “Oh my goddd.”

You feel a little spacey as the pieces fall into place. Wayne’s nephew Ed worked at Thatcher Tyre as a mechanic, and Fae had told Hazel her Dad looked like a rockstar. She wasn’t wrong…

“He was totally going to try and set us up or somethin’.”

“He did say I’d finally get to meet you at the Winter Performance…” you say, feeling fizzy-all-over as you come to terms with the shock of it all. “Guess we bet him to it.”

“Told me you were real sweet too.” Eddie smiles, his cheeks are pinker than ever.

Part of your brain berates you for hooking up with a stranger in a small town - a small town where everyone knows everyone else. But when Eddie reaches his hand out across the island and says, “Good to finally meet you, Hazel’s Mom,” with that flirty smile and his whiskey eyes, it melts away and you’re not really that sorry at all.

You take his hand, mug-warmed and adorned with silver rings. 

“Nice to meet you at last, Fae’s Dad.”

Neither of you is too embarrassed by the revelation, though you both circle back to how fucking crazy it is at least twice. Even though you still feel gooey-warm under his attention, you don’t want anything to get in the way of your daughter’s friendship, of your new start in Hawkins, and feel selfish for wanting more than the taste you have already had of Eddie Munson. You both know your time together is drawing to an end, the bubble is about to burst, and a little part of you wishes that the illusion of being strangers could have lasted a little longer. 

With your coffee consumed and your coats and boots on, Eddie takes your hand and pulls you against his body before you step outside of the door together. 

“Hey, gorgeous. One more kiss?” he asks, head tilted to the side. 

You don’t need to think about it, and take his stubbled jaw with both hands as he holds your hips. Kissing him makes all the tension roll away once more, and you hope it is enough to help him remember you as more than just some other Mom in the First Grade Parents Group Chat (which you both have muted). You have to savour it, remember his taste and touch.

Eddie is not shy about kissing you, he slides his tongue against yours and moans ever so quietly when you push your chest against his. He is also the one to slow it down, makes it sweet and tender and you would dare say romantic, even with his hands on your ass. 

“Can I ask for one more thing?” he whispers, nudging his nose against yours. 

Right now, you would consider giving him a kidney or a blow job if he asked nicely. 

“Mhm,” you whisper, giving nothing away just yet. 

“Can I get your number? I wanna take you out properly,” he says, his thumbs play with the belt loop at the back of your jeans. “Like a date.”

Feeling hot all over, you try to play it cool and not nod so eagerly lest you headbutt him and leave him bloody-nosed. 

“Yeah. That would be nice, Eddie.” 

He watches how your teeth sink into your lip and has to kiss you once more, just because. You take his phone and add your number and name, adding a little sparkle emoji before deleting it. Then you add it again and hand it back before you can change your mind.

“Cool. And, um maybe the girls could have a play date sometime? I was gonna ask for your number anyway, so y’know. Two birds, one stone and all that. Silver linings?” Eddie does a jazz-hand-flourish thing before he shakes his head at himself and tucks his phone away. “I had a good time with you. A great time. And I know what you might be thinking, I don’t want this to get between the girls either. But I’d love to see you again.”

You are even more endeared by these glimpses of how sensible he is as well as his goofy awkwardness beneath the leather jacket and bad boy stare.

He is as gentlemanly as he had been last night, opening doors for you, though he is less handsy in the bright morning light (he does give your knee a squeeze at the stoplight). You feel safe with him as he navigates the frosty roads of Hawkins, talking about music, what concerts you had been to before becoming parents, and where to get the sparkly tutus for the Winter Performance. 

All too soon he pulls up outside your house, spotting the red door with the handmade wreath that you had described.

“Next to Henderson’s?” he asks, brow raised.

“Yep. Do you know Claudia, or is this town just too small?”

He laughs, tilts his head against the headrest. “It’s way too small. Her son, Dustin? One of my best friends.” 

You tip your head forward, smiling even as your head shakes. “I’ve heard so much about Dustin. We’re having Christmas dinner with them.”

Eddie's dimpled cheeks crease even more. “Damn. Well, I can’t wait to hear why you picked Hawkins of all places to move to. You can tell me on our date.”

Proud of how that flusters you, he presses a kiss to your hand and winks, “I’ll text you later, sweetheart.”

You want to kiss him again, but you manage to restrain yourself, remembering the nosy neighbours on Cornwallis. Instead, you let the flickering fire inside you flirt back, hoping to fluster him too.

You place your hand high on his thigh and squeeze. “You better, Eddie. Drive safe.”

You can feel him checking you out all over again, the weight and warmth of his gaze, as you make your way up the path to your door. Once your key is in the lock, you part ways with a wave and a wink, lingering just a moment more to watch his car peel away from the curb. 

Left with a fluttering feeling in your tummy and warm cheeks that ache from smiling, you take a moment for yourself in your hallway. 

It is time to go back to being Hazel’s mom. You can’t wait to hear about her sleepover with Ms. Claudia and the cats, bask in her brilliance and take every hug and smooch she will offer you (or let you take for yourself). Inspired by Eddie and Fae’s breakfast date, you think of taking your girl to the diner for dinner later on, maybe watching a Christmas movie before bed. 

In the mirror above your sideboard, hanging above the key dish and the thrifted lamp and a photo of you and Hazel in matching sunglasses, you catch sight of your smiling reflection once more, enveloped in a dreamy daze and borrowed hoodie. Your phone buzzes in your pocket and your smile becomes bigger, brighter, brimming with hope. 

What did you think? Do we want more of these two? 👀 Thank you so very very much for reading! Your comments, reblogs and likes are incredibly appreciated and adored!

Whether you're celebrating or not, I am wishing you the cosiest and most wonderful holiday season filled with peace and love and every good thing you deserve ✨

[moonlightwritingf1]

The Secret Santa Gift | LN4

𐙚༘⋆˖°🎄๋࣭ ⭑₊ ⊹ summary ━━━━━━━ At a Christmas party, Y/N receives a gift from Lando, her Secret Santa. After realizing his feelings, she meets him in Hyde Park, where Lando confesses his love.

𐙚༘⋆˖°🎄๋࣭ ⭑₊ ⊹ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

𐙚༘⋆˖°🎄๋࣭ ⭑₊ ⊹ word count ━━━━━━━ 1.8k

Inside Pietra and Max’s flat, the warm glow of fairy lights cast a festive ambiance. The group had gathered around, their laughter and chatter filling the space. Among the group was Lando Norris, the Formula 1 driver, whose infectious energy was as much a highlight of the evening as the spiced mulled wine.

Y/N had met Lando through Pietra. He was charming, funny, and always had a way of making her laugh, but she’d never considered that he might see her as more than just a friend. Why would someone like him—a world-famous driver with fans across the globe—be interested in someone like her?

What Y/N didn’t know was that from the moment Lando had met her, he was hooked. Her shy smiles, fierce wit, and the way she carried herself had captivated him. He had tried to drop hints—playful teasing, lingering stares, and always managing to be by her side whenever they were in the same room. But so far, his feelings had gone unnoticed, much to the amusement of their mutual friends.

Tonight, Lando’s heart raced with anticipation. He had drawn Y/N’s name for Secret Santa, and he’d spent days planning her gift. If he couldn’t tell her how he felt outright, he’d let his actions do the talking.

As everyone settled in a circle around the tree, Pietra handed out the gifts.

“Alright, everyone, one at a time. Let’s see what Santa’s brought us,” Pietra announced with a grin.

Y/N’s turn came quickly. She picked up a neatly wrapped box with her name on it and smiled. “Ooh, this one looks fancy.”

She carefully unwrapped the paper to reveal a beautifully designed gift box. Inside were items that immediately caught her attention: a novel by her favorite author, a selection of her go-to snacks, and a handwritten note tucked neatly between them.

She picked up the note and read it aloud, her cheeks turning pink as she spoke:

"To Y/N,

I hope these little things bring a smile to your face. You deserve all the happiness in the world. Happy Christmas!

—Your Secret Santa."

The room was quiet for a moment before the group erupted into knowing smiles and exchanged glances.

“This is perfect,” Y/N said, beaming. “Whoever my Secret Santa is, thank you!”

Across the room, Lando leaned back against the couch, his soft smile betraying his delight. “Glad you like it,” he said casually.

Y/N gave him a warm smile before turning her attention back to the gift box, completely unaware of the depth behind his words.

Later in the evening, when the group had dispersed into smaller conversations, Pietra sidled up to Lando. She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

“You’re not subtle at all, you know,” she said, her tone teasing.

Lando shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. “Don’t need to be. She’s worth it.”

Pietra shook her head with a grin. “You’ve got it bad, Norris. When are you going to tell her?”

Lando glanced over at Y/N, who was laughing at something one of the others had said. Her smile lit up the room, and for a moment, it was just her in his world.

“Soon,” he said softly.

As the evening wound down and guests began to leave, Lando lingered behind, offering to help Pietra and Max clean up. Y/N stayed too, not wanting the night to end just yet.

“Did you have fun tonight?” Lando asked as he carried a stack of plates to the kitchen.

“Yeah,” Y/N replied, leaning against the counter. “It’s always nice to get together like this. And that gift… It was really thoughtful.”

Lando met her gaze, his lips quirking into a smile. “I’m glad. You deserve it.”

There was something in his tone—something warm and genuine—that made her stomach flutter. She quickly looked away, brushing it off as friendly banter.

As the clock struck midnight, Lando walked Y/N to the door. The cold air outside was a stark contrast to the warmth of the evening.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said, his voice soft.

“Goodnight, Lando,” she replied, her cheeks tinged pink from more than just the cold.

As she walked away, Lando stood there for a moment, watching her disappear into the night. He knew he couldn’t keep his feelings a secret much longer.

And maybe, just maybe, Y/N was beginning to notice too.

The days following the Secret Santa evening were uneventful for Y/N—or so she told herself. Her mind, however, kept drifting back to the gift. There was something about it, something so specific and thoughtful, that made her heart skip a beat. Whoever her Secret Santa was had paid attention to the little details about her life. But who could it have been?

“It’s probably just Pietra,” she muttered to herself one morning as she walked to the café near her office for her usual coffee fix. “She knows I love that author.”

Still, the way Lando had smiled at her that night lingered in her thoughts. It wasn’t the playful grin she was used to seeing. It was softer, almost tender, and it made her cheeks heat every time she replayed it in her head.

Shaking off the memory, she stepped into the café, greeted by the rich aroma of coffee beans and the low hum of conversation.

Lando, on the other hand, wasn’t shaking off anything. The memory of Y/N’s smile when she opened his gift was etched in his mind. He’d been tempted to tell her the truth that night but had held back, not wanting to overwhelm her. But he couldn’t wait much longer.

“Mate, just tell her,” his friend Max had said during a call the day after the party. “She’s not as oblivious as you think.”

Lando wasn’t convinced. Y/N had a way of brushing off his flirtations as jokes, as though the idea of him liking her was absurd. But he was determined to change that.

A few days later, Y/N found herself at the same café again, waiting for her latte. It was one of those rare slow mornings, and she decided to sit by the window to watch the city bustle by. As she sipped her coffee, an older woman sitting at the next table leaned over with a warm smile.

“Excuse me, dear,” the woman said. “I couldn’t help but notice—are you seeing that young man who was sitting here a few minutes ago?”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “Um, no. I don’t think I know who you mean.”

The woman chuckled softly. “He was sitting here earlier, fiddling with his phone and glancing at the door every few seconds. When you walked in, his face lit up like a Christmas tree. He left not long after but looked quite pleased with himself.”

Y/N frowned, confused. “Are you sure it was me he was looking at?”

“Oh, absolutely,” the woman said, her eyes twinkling. “He couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat. “What did he look like?” she asked, though she already had a sinking suspicion.

“Dark brown hair, striking greenish-blue eyes, and a sharp jawline. He looked like someone who belonged on the cover of a high-end sports magazine—tall and had an athletic build.”

Y/N’s stomach flipped. It couldn’t be… could it?

That evening, as she walked home, her mind raced. The description fit Lando perfectly, and the woman’s words were hard to ignore. Was it possible that he’d been there, watching her? And if so, why hadn’t he said anything?

By the time she reached her flat, she was too restless to sit still. She grabbed her phone and opened a message thread with Pietra.

Y/N: Can I ask you something? Was Lando my Secret Santa?

A few seconds later, her phone buzzed.

Pietra: Took you long enough to figure it out. Yes, it was him. And yes, he’s head over heels for you.

Y/N stared at the message, her heart pounding. Pietra’s words confirmed what the woman in the café had hinted at.

The next day, Lando texted her out of the blue.

Lando: Fancy a walk in Hyde Park? I’m in London for a couple of days.

Y/N hesitated but replied.

Y/N: Sure. When?

That afternoon, they met by the park entrance. Lando greeted her with his usual playful smile, though his eyes held a certain softness that made her heart flutter.

“Thanks for coming,” he said as they started walking.

“It’s nice to get some fresh air,” Y/N replied, trying to sound casual.

For a while, they strolled in comfortable silence, the crunch of gravel underfoot and the distant sound of children playing filling the gaps.

“Can I ask you something?” she said suddenly, stopping near a bench.

Lando turned to her, his hands in his coat pockets. “Anything.”

She took a deep breath. “Were you my Secret Santa?”

His lips twitched into a smirk. “What gave it away?”

“Pietra,” she admitted, folding her arms. “And maybe an old woman in a café who said you were staring at me like a lovesick puppy.”

Lando’s eyes widened, then he laughed—a warm, genuine sound. “Lovesick puppy, huh? That’s new.”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat. “So… it’s true?”

Lando stepped closer, his teasing tone softening. “Yeah, it’s true. I was your Secret Santa. And I’ve been trying to tell you how I feel for months.”

Her breath hitched. “Lando…”

He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re everything, Y/N. You’re funny, smart, kind, and you have no idea how much you light up a room just by being in it. I’ve been crazy about you since the day we met.”

She stared at him, her mind racing. All the little moments—the lingering looks, the teasing, the way he always seemed to be near her—suddenly made sense.

“I… I thought you were just being nice,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando chuckled softly. “I don’t flirt with just anyone, you know.”

Y/N bit her lip, her heart pounding. “I didn’t think someone like you would look at someone like me.”

His expression turned serious. “Y/N, you’re everything I’ve been looking for. And I don’t care about what I do or where I live. All I care about is you.”

Her eyes filled with tears as his words sank in. “You really mean that?”

He nodded, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “I’d do anything for you. You mean that much to me.”

Y/N smiled through her tears. “I think I’ve been falling for you too. I just didn’t realize it.”

Lando’s grin returned, playful yet full of warmth. “Took you long enough.”

Before she could reply, he leaned in, capturing her lips in a gentle, heartfelt kiss. The world around them faded, leaving only the two of them in that perfect moment.

[s6daz]

Hi hi! I love you’re writings💗

Can I request for g!p soft Sevika with breeding kink please? Maybe Sevika is bottom and reader just ride her and tease with idea to cum inside…

Thank you🫶🏻

♰ sevika x f!reader ִ ݁ ˖ ◜

cw: g!p sevika, sevika bottom (if u squint too much), breeding kink, teasing (from the reader), reader dominating the situation (?, porn without plot

note: i honestly don't remember much of what i wrote here but i saw it was for this request in my notes so... i hope it's what u asked for

they were a chaos of soft moans and groans. wet kisses, saliva spreading from the corner of their lips that almost reached their necks and gasps for air. your hands were firm in her hair as you moved your hips torturously over her clothing covered bulge, her hands gripping your hips, occasionally releasing moans into your mouth desperate for you.

you broke away from the hot kiss for a moment and gently licked her lower lip, sucking it softly before letting your teeth sink into the flesh of her dark lips: listening to the grunt and gasp that sevika let out, you felt how all the heat began to rise through your body.

"did you like that, love?" you teased with a tempting smile, subtly watching sevika reaction, who let out a heavy sigh before looking back at you.

"yes, i love it doll" she pronounced quickly no matter how begging she looked in front of you. "mhh should we level up?" you responded as your hands went down to the hem of her pants playing with them.

she simply nodded as if all her words had been swallowed, she leaned her head back to rest on the pillow, letting out soft sighs.

when you saw that sevika gave you permission, you moved a little to be able to take off her pants more easily. you grabbed the hem of them along with her boxers and slowly lowered them. your eyes widened with pleasure when you saw how sevika cock finally came out from her cage, the erect cock jumped against her stomach but you continued lowering the fabric down her toned thighs until you reached her knees.

"you look so pretty like this" you said looking at how sevika was breathing unevenly while her eyes were closed and you could notice the slight sweat running down her forehead, you laughed just thinking about how desperate she could be right now.

not hearing any words, you looked down at her penis, you could see that there were already droplets of precum near her tip. you smile when you see what you could provoke in sevika and slowly wrap the phallus in your hand, giving gentle movements up and down.

"does it feel good?" you ask, watching as sevika began to cling to the sheets, she simply moaned and nodded. “good girl…” you praise.

your hand continued making the movements from up to down, watching as her cock became increasingly wetter from the precum, your thumb went to her head, caressing it gently, causing sevika to shudder.

"did you just shiver, vika?" you muttered with some sarcasm, hearing her groan at your comment, clearly annoyed.

you had her at your mercy and that only makes you hornier, you don't want her to cum in your hand so you put her penis aside feeling how she was complaining when she no longer felt your heat on her circumference, slowly you moved to being able to take off your shorts easier.

you threw them to the side and since you didn't have panties you focused on sevika, trying to position yourself to feel how your skin was sticking to hers. you moved your hips, rubbing from one side to the other only on her tip and this only made sevika desperate further.

"damn it princess, put it in now" she speaks impatiently as she takes a look at you, you stopped the games since equal deep down you were desperate and you began to align her cock to your needy entrance watching those anxious eyes that watched all your movements while her stiff cock collided inside your wet center, making its way between your tight walls. you saw how she rolled her eyes and let out a subtle moan as she felt everything all your insides in her circumference.

her hands moved to your hips, squeezing them tightly. her reaction was so exquisite that you raised your hips and fell back down only to hear her cute moan again.

the intensity of the moment fueled your need to dominate her and explore every inch of her body, you leaned closer to her; "does it feel good?" you asked, knowing full well that she couldn't answer because of her euphoria.

you clung to her shoulders and began to push your hips, riding her so exquisitely that sevika would occasionally let out moans louder than normal, you weren't far behind either, the rhythm of your hips made you feel a thousand things; feeling sevika cock inside you touching all those exact points that led you to lose your sanity made you delirious.

"i-it feels so good vika" you gasp for air to fill your lungs suffocated by pleasure.

in her first attempt to control the situation, she began to push her hips in rhythm with yours, making your back hunch and you felt slight tears begin to threaten to come out.

"fuck..." she managed to formulate letting out a sigh, in response you squeezed your pussy around she making her let out a grunt. the intensity of the moment began to be noticed when the splash began to intensify and you could feel how sevika was throbbing inside you.

"so fucking perfect" she gasped as her flesh hand went down to your ass giving it a squeeze, you smiled when you the heard and leaned in to whisper to she; "do you want to cum inside?"

you could see how her eyes darkened just by mentioning being able to end up inside: since you never allowed her to. "get me pregnant, i'm sure you want it" you whispered, provoking her even more. "would you give me your cum, love?"

something clicked in sevika and her hands quickly grabbed onto your body, starting to thrust harder into you with a very great urgency. you grabbed onto her back, scratching the in her wake. the sound of skin against skin filled the room and you let out all the noises and complaints that you couldn't before.

"damn it... i'll leave my son inside you" she let out between gasps before feeling her climax approaching. jets of her semen filled your insides and uterus, making you collapse in her arms. for a few minutes, the only thing that could be heard in the room were her agitated breathing in search of air. they enjoyed the silence until you felt sane enough to to be able to move and want to take her cock out of you, if it weren't for the quick movement that sevika made you fall back into her chest.

"this is far from over, darling, i will fill you until i am sure you have my son."

[starrydali]

hii i got a request for a luke castellan fic🤭

so i thought of it the other day.. what if its during a capture the flag game but reader and luke get carried away with yk.. making out or smth and they get caught !

do what you want with it, i just thought it could be cute😊

Friends With Benefits - Luke Castellan

∘°∘♡∘° Stoppp I love this so much♡

✧˖*°࿐*✧.┊You and Luke have always been close friends, but lately, things have been a little… complicated. You're not quite dating, but you're not just friends either. Stolen kisses here and there, moments where the line between friendship and something more starts to blur. ✧. ┊

The moonlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled patterns on the forest floor. You were supposed to be patrolling—Luke was supposed to be patrolling—but instead, you were backed against the rough bark of a tree, his lips brushing against yours in a way that sent your thoughts spiraling into chaos.

“Luke,” you mumbled between kisses, though you made no effort to stop him. “We’re going to get caught.”

He pulled back slightly, his face so close that his breath warmed your skin. His smirk was maddeningly cocky, the kind that made you simultaneously want to shove him and kiss him again. “Relax,” he said, his voice low and full of amusement. “You worry too much.”

“You don’t worry enough,” you shot back, your hands resting awkwardly on his chest, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer.

Luke just chuckled, leaning in again, his lips brushing against the corner of your mouth before moving to trail down your jaw. “It’s adorable how you think anyone’s paying attention to us right now.”

You were about to retort when—

“Luke Castellan.”

The sharp voice cut through the quiet of the woods like a blade. Your head snapped toward the source of the sound, and your stomach dropped. Annabeth.

She stood a few feet away, arms crossed and a look of utter disbelief etched on her face. For once, her calculating gaze wasn’t directed at some strategic move in Capture the Flag—it was pinned squarely on the two of you.

“Oh gods,” you muttered under your breath, stepping away from Luke so fast you nearly tripped over a root.

Luke, on the other hand, didn’t seem the least bit fazed. He leaned casually against the tree, his arms crossed over his chest, and gave Annabeth his most infuriating grin. “Hey, Annabeth,” he said, as if she’d just caught him skipping chores and not...well, this.

“‘Hey, Annabeth?’” she repeated, her voice rising slightly. Her eyes flicked between you and Luke, her expression a mix of shock, confusion, and something that looked suspiciously like secondhand embarrassment. “What the hell was that?”

You opened your mouth to explain—or maybe apologize—but no sound came out. Your face was burning so hot you were sure it could rival Apollo’s chariot.

“We were just...uh...” Luke began, his grin widening as he glanced at you.

“Don’t,” Annabeth interrupted, holding up a hand. “Don’t even try to explain.”

Luke shrugged, clearly enjoying himself. “Alright, if you insist.”

“Luke!” you hissed, swatting his arm.

“What?” he said, feigning innocence. “I’m not lying. She told me not to explain.”

Annabeth groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I cannot believe this. You two are supposed to be best friends.”

“We are,” Luke said, the casual tone in his voice almost convincing.

“Best friends don’t...” Annabeth gestured vaguely between the two of you, clearly at a loss for words.

You wanted to sink into the ground and disappear forever. “This isn’t—it’s not—”

“Not what it looked like?” Annabeth supplied, raising an eyebrow.

You nodded furiously, though you weren’t entirely sure what you were agreeing to.

Luke, ever the opportunist, slung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him. “Come on, Annabeth,” he said, his tone light and teasing. “Can’t two best friends share a kiss now and then without it being a big deal?”

“No!” Annabeth snapped, her face incredulous. “No, they can’t!”

“Well,” Luke said, his smirk practically glowing in the dark, “guess we missed the memo.”

Annabeth threw her hands up in frustration. “You’re both unbelievable.” She turned on her heel and stalked back toward the creek, muttering something about idiocy and never being able to unsee things.

As soon as she was out of earshot, you turned to Luke, your jaw dropping. “What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” he said, his expression far too pleased with himself. “That went better than I expected.”

“Better?” you repeated, your voice a mix of disbelief and mortification. “She’s never going to let us live this down.”

“Probably not,” Luke agreed, his grin softening into something almost fond as he looked at you. “But hey, at least now you know what you're dealing with.”

“And what exactly am dealing with?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him.

Luke’s gaze flicked briefly to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “A best friend who doesn’t play by the rules.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest betrayed you. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here you are,” he teased, leaning in just enough that your noses brushed.

You shoved him lightly, though the smile tugging at your lips was impossible to hide. “Come on,” you said, grabbing his wrist and pulling him in the direction of the creek. “Let’s actually do our job before we get caught again.”

“Whatever you say, best friend,” he said, his laughter echoing through the trees as he followed you.

✧. ┊ Send requests! :)

[covenofagatha]

A dance with death (and her wife) (Part 2)

A look into Agatha and Rio's home life, and you are reeling from having The Witch and Lady Death in your motel room

Word count: 4200

Warnings: mentions of murder, manipulativeness, light gaslighting

The same morning you get called to Westview, Agatha Harkness wakes up to find her wife, Rio Vidal, staring at her. 

“If you were going to kill me, how would you do it?” Rio asks, and Agatha raises an eyebrow. 

“Good morning to you, too,” she groans, propping herself up on her elbows to get a better look at Rio, who is lounging in the chair in the corner. “How long have you been watching me sleep?” 

Rio shrugs. “You make it sound like I’m some serial killer who’s about to murder you.” Her eyes widen conspiratorially and Agatha snorts before plopping back down. 

“She’s getting here today, you know,” Agatha says and she can hear Rio’s breath hitch. 

She leans forward in the chair. “When do you think she’ll come see me?” The eagerness is evident in her voice, and Agatha knows how she feels. 

“Once we pull off our little ‘Welcome to Westview’ stunt tonight? I bet no time at all,” Agatha answers. 

Rio grins, seemingly satisfied with the answer, and picks up the skeleton mask sitting on the dresser. She fiddles with the strings and holds it up to her face. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that Miami director books the appointment himself. Do police detectives usually include a business card to their wife’s therapy practice in their information file to the FBI?” 

“Better hope he doesn’t just pull her off the case,” Agatha remarks, ignoring the question, and finally gets up out of bed and walks past the bouquet of purple azaleas on the vanity. “He’s pretty serious when it comes to protecting her. Especially after…” 

“No,” Rio cuts her off and Agatha looks at her wife in surprise. Rio puts her mask down, stands up, and walks over so she’s face-to-face with the older woman. She reaches a hand out to put it gently around Agatha’s throat, who doesn’t even flinch. Rio smirks and drags her hand downward so it’s resting over her heart. “We’re finally getting what we want. Do you know how long we’ve been waiting for this? For her? I’m not letting her go.”

Agatha tilts her head to the side, thinking for a second. “If I were going to kill you, I’d fill a syringe with air and inject it into your bloodstream under your toenail. The death would mimic a heart attack and the track mark would be almost impossible to find. I’d tell the authorities that you were under so much stress as a therapist that it eventually took a toll on your body,” she says slowly, clinically even, watching Rio’s hazel eyes get dark. 

She hums and looks down at Agatha’s lips. “You really know how to make a lady swoon.” Rio gives her a quick peck and leaves the room so her wife can get ready for work. 

On her way to the kitchen, Rio steps into the spare room in the hallway and takes a deep breath, feeling the tension seeping from her muscles. The table in the middle of the room is covered in vials, all Agatha’s doing. They don’t call her The Witch for nothing, Rio thinks. She picks up her own dagger and twirls it between her practiced fingers while she admires the handiwork on the left side of the room. 

From ceiling to floor, the wall is completely covered with you. Every single case file you’ve profiled for, pictures of you from now all the way back to your childhood, transcripts from Quantico and college. Rio’s favorite photo hangs front and center, the one of the scar you got from dealing with the Scarlet Killer, all rough and jagged. 

Rio would’ve made it prettier. 

Patience, she reminds herself. 

The trap has been laid. All that’s left to do is wait. 

***

You turn the entire motel room upside down, scourging for anything else the killers may have left behind: a camera or a listening device, or maybe even a clue. 

Nothing. 

And then you kick yourself for touching everything because now you can’t even test for prints. Plus, it’s a motel room so you’re not sure you’d be able to narrow it down. 

The phone is in your hand dialing Tony back before you can think. He doesn’t answer and you slam it down on the bed in frustration. 

They were here. The Witch and Lady Death were in your room. 

You draw the blinds and deadbolt the door, making a mental note to ask the front desk to change the locks. How did they get in? How did they know you were going to get food? 

A cold feeling sinks into your bones. They must be watching you. 

And what’s to stop them from coming back? This time though, when you’re in the room? 

Anyone could be next. Agatha’s words echo around in your head and you didn’t realize just how true they are until now. 

You don’t realize you’re hyperventilating until you feel dizzy and gag. Then you run to the bathroom and puke into the toilet. Wiping a hand across your sweaty forehead, your mind spins with what to do. 

You could call the police, but you don’t think they would do any good, especially after you’ve tampered with evidence. There were no cameras in this motel, you had already checked. 

Pacing back and forth, head in your hands, you try and try and try to think of what to do. 

And finally you think of something. 

You punch in the number and hold the phone up to your ear. 

It rings three times and then there’s a click. 

“Dr. Rio Vidal’s office, if this is an emergency please hang up the phone and call 911. If not, this is Dr. Vidal, how can I help you?” 

You take a shaky breath and press your fingers to your forehead to stave off the incoming headache. “Um, yes, hi, I was calling to see if I could make an appointment? The sooner, the better.” 

There’s shuffling and then tapping of keys on a computer. “What’s your name?” When you say it, you hear a sharp inhale and then a cough. “Sorry about that. How does 1 pm tomorrow sound?” 

You blink. You didn’t realize you’d be able to get in that fast, but you suppose in a small town like Westview, not many people are going to therapy. “Yeah, that would be great. I’ll see you tomorrow then. Thank you.” 

“Bye, Agent Y/L/N,” she says. You frown. You never told her you were an agent. But you figure it’s been announced that you’re coming, so you brush it off. 

You take a quick shower and then get into bed, trying to relax and maybe get some sleep. You promised Tony you’d get five hours a night, but you’ll be lucky if you even get one. 

At every groan and creak, you jump and grab your gun, sitting up completely alert. It’s always the wind or a tree branch or the building settling. 

You lay under the sheets, hand gripped around your weapon, and you don’t sleep a wink. 

When you get to the station the next morning, the first person you see is Agatha. She looks up at you, takes in your new outfit, and smiles brightly. 

The killers replaced all your clothes so you had no choice but to wear the new ones until you’re able to go shopping. You wouldn’t be surprised if they laced the fabric with something and you end up dead before lunch, but it’s snowing today and you had nothing else to wear. 

“Have a good first night in Westview?” She asks and you cautiously glance around the room. 

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” You ask urgently, voice low. Concern flits onto her face and she nods and stands up. She pulls you into the evidence locker. “They were at my motel last night,” you hiss. 

Agatha’s hand flies to her mouth. “The killers? Are you sure?” 

You nod furiously. “I had left to get food and when I came back, the door was open and they had packed my suitcase with all new stuff—” You motion down at your body and she checks you out again. “—and perfume and then they circled ‘lovers’ on a sticky note I had to tell me their relationship and they left the flower on my table!” 

“Slow down,” Agatha says and you realize you’ve been talking so fast that you haven’t taken a breath. She puts her hands on your shoulders. “Did you see them? Did they come back?” 

“No, not yet at least. I don’t understand, if they wanted to kill me, why not just wait until I was there? Or asleep?” 

“Maybe they didn’t want to kill you,” Agatha suggests. “Maybe they just wanted to send you a message or something. It’s pretty big news that we have a profiler from the FBI here to help stop them.” 

You frown. “So they wanted to let me know they’re not scared of me?” 

She shrugs. “Maybe, maybe not. Who knows what they’re thinking. But the most important thing is that you’re okay. We can send over some officers later to test for evidence, if you want.” 

“It’s no use, I tore the place apart last night,” you say, shaking your head at your own stupidity. She squeezes your shoulders. 

“Hey, don’t worry. Like you said, if they wanted you dead, you’d be dead. Let’s go out there and work on catching them so you and everyone else in Westview can sleep easy, yeah?” 

You nod, feeling a little better but then you pause. “Agatha, are you afraid?”

Something flickers in her eyes before it's quickly replaced by humor. “I think they know better than to break into the home of a decorated detective such as myself,” she says haughtily and you can’t help but to laugh. She chuckles too, but then something in her face changes. 

Before you can ask what’s wrong, she leans in and sniffs up your neck. You freeze and find all the air in your lungs gone. 

“New perfume?” She mutters. 

You had put it on this morning without even thinking about it as your usual had also been taken. Thanatos. The Greek personification of death. 

Or as Freud defined it, a person’s urge to die. 

“Yeah,” you stutter. Agatha finally pulls back and her blue eyes are dilated. You find your gaze dropping down to her mouth again and you want to feel her lips on yours. 

“You said they packed your suitcase with all new stuff,” she says in a hushed voice and your heartbeat picks up. “Did they give you that too?” 

“Yes,” you whisper, and instead of looking disgusted, like you thought she would, she looks excited. 

She leans back in and presses her face into your neck and are you imagining her lips ghosting against your skin or is that really happening? It feels like your entire body is on fire. 

They trail up, light as a feather against your jugular vein, and she’s at your chin when the door slams open and you jump back. She winks and then she’s turning on her heel and walking out. It’s an officer, trying to book evidence, looking very confused. 

“Making friends, Miami?” He jokes and your face flushes before you quickly leave the room before finding Agatha and the rest of the detectives back in the room with the case information. 

You tirelessly pour over every single detail for the next few hours to no avail. You toss out theories but Agatha always finds something that doesn’t add up and you’re always back to square one. 

But then it’s time for your therapy appointment, so you drop your pen down to the table and gather the pages of your chicken scratch to throw in your bag. 

“I have to head out,” you say hastily and Agatha glances up. 

“Hot date, superstar?” She teases and the memory of her mouth on your neck burns through you. 

You shake your head. “Just uh, going to the doctor.” 

She raises an eyebrow daringly and smirks. “Have fun.” 

You give her a tight smile and then you’re in your car driving to the office. There’s people walking on the street on your route and you can’t help but wonder which of them might be the next victim. 

It’s always been hard to not get too attached to the people in the towns you work at. Looking at them, knowing tomorrow they might not be alive, it takes a toll on you. 

That’s part of the reason you get so attached. The waiting, the not knowing. It eats away at you. 

Dr. Vidal’s office is tucked away in the corner of a string of workspaces in a building, and you feel something weird in your stomach as you walk up the steps. For the third time in the past 24 hours, your scar sears with a pain you haven’t felt since right after. You have to stop and breathe deeply before opening the door. 

A woman sits at the front desk typing on her computer. She barely even looks at you and you stand at the desk for a moment before clearing your throat. 

“Um, hi, I have an appointment for one? I’m Y/N,” you say and it’s like she’s finally realized someone’s standing there. 

She hums in acknowledgement and scrolls until she finds your name and clicks. “The doctor will be with you shortly.” 

You tap the desk and go sit down, wiping your palms on your pants. It’s only a few minutes before a door opens and your name is called. 

Walking into the room, the first thing you notice is the thick smell of nature. And then you see plants everywhere. Bookshelves line the walls, full with books and pots of every type of plant and flower you’ve ever seen. Your eyes narrow, but you don’t see anything purple. 

And then you see Dr. Vidal sitting behind a large desk. You tentatively take a seat in one of the chairs across from her, squirming under her intense gaze. She’s an attractive woman, hair pulled back into a tight bun and brown eyes that seem to stare into your soul. There’s not a hair out of place on her desk; everything is meticulously organized and right where she needs it. 

You clear your throat. “Big plant lover?” You say, and it’s an incredibly awkward way to make a first impression. You’ve never been good at therapy, or with uncomfortable silences. 

But she doesn’t seem to care, finds it almost amusing. Her tongue pushes against the inside of her cheek and she settles forward. “So, what brings you to therapy?” 

You don’t even know where to start. “I just got to town, and um, oh – I’m a profiler, by the way, for the FBI. I’m here working on the case with The Witch and Lady Death.” 

“Lady Death?” Dr. Vidal asks, giving you an intrigued look. 

“Oh, we figured out that there’s actually two killers. That’s what I nicknamed the other one, because apparently she’s been seen with the bottom half of a skeleton mask on her face. Wait, this is all confidential right?” 

“Of course,” she assures you, voice smooth as honey. “Anything you say here doesn’t leave this room unless you threaten to hurt yourself or someone else. So, you’re here about the case?” 

You nod, playing with the hem of your sweater. “Yeah, you could say that. I sort of have some obsessive tendencies when it comes to cases like these, and I just wanted to get ahead of them before I spiraled again.” 

“What does a spiral look like for you?” 

Chewing on your nail, your gut twists and you can feel Wanda’s knife jabbing into you. “I stop eating, stop sleeping. The work consumes me, I can’t take a break. I don’t want to take a break. There’s just this overwhelming need to catch the killer and I won’t stop – I can’t stop – until I find them. It can be dangerous.” 

She nods and writes something down in her notebook. “Why did you become a profiler?” 

“To help people,” you answer immediately. “I like reading the killers, figuring out what they’re thinking, getting inside their heads and beating them at their own game.” 

“When did you start knowing you wanted to do this? Why not just become a detective or something?” 

This one takes a bit longer to think about. “I don’t know, I just remember being a kid and wanting to…” You trail off, suddenly feeling confused. “I’m sorry, I don’t really know what I was going to say.” Something is weird, wrong even. What were you thinking of? 

“No, don’t apologize,” Dr. Vidal says, laying her hands on the desk with wide eyes. “You wanted to what as a kid? What happened that made you want to think like a killer?” 

A dull ache starts to throb against your skull the harder you try and think about it. “I don’t know,” you repeat, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I’m not thinking like a killer, I’m figuring out the way their brain works. So I can catch them.” 

She leans back and crosses her arms. “What do you feel when you think like them?” 

“What does this have to do with–” But you’re cut off by a blinding burst of pain and then glimpses of something you can’t quite explain flash through your mind. 

Snow. 

Trees. 

A clearing in the woods. 

Red birds flutter from the branches, startled by something. 

You hear your name and the images are gone. Dr. Vidal is watching you closely, breathing heavily. “What was that?” 

Shaking your head, you try to make sense of what just happened. Memories or hallucinations? “Um, sorry, I don’t know. What was the question?” 

Her eyes are dark and they remind you of Agatha’s in the evidence locker. How she had leaned down and smelled the perfume you were wearing. You shift in your chair. 

“I was asking what your coping mechanisms are for when you start to feel yourself spiraling,” she says, and you’re still a little foggy, but you’re pretty sure that’s not what she asked. 

You think you might be going crazy. “My boss back in Miami was pretty good about recognizing when I needed to take a step back. I’m trying to not get too involved and make sure I’m eating and staying hydrated and sleeping enough. And I’m here, so I think this should help.” 

“That’s what I’m here for,” Dr. Vidal says with a smile. “If you ever start to feel too drawn in, take three deep breaths and then do the 5-4-3-2-1 technique. Are you familiar?” 

You almost roll your eyes. That’s exactly what they told you to do during your mandated therapy. Name five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste. It was meant to ground you and reduce your anxiety. 

“Yeah, I’ve tried it a few times, but it didn’t really work for me,” you admit and she waves dismissively. 

She quickly scribbles something down and rips out a chunk of paper, sliding it across to you. “This is my cell,” she says. “Call me anytime, day or night, if you ever need to talk. Sometimes that’s the best way to calm down. I know you’re new here, but do you have anyone else, maybe someone you’ve been working with that you could talk to if you need to?” 

“There’s this one woman I work with that’s pretty nice. She’s the main detective on the case, so I think I could reach out if I really needed to,” you say and she looks pleased. 

“Detective Harkness?” Dr. Vidal asks. 

In a small town, people are bound to be familiar with each other. “Um, yeah, do you know her?” 

She smirks. “Very well. She’s quite attractive, don’t you think?” 

The question catches you off-guard. Is everyone in this place weird? “I mean, sure, of course. Are you allowed to say that?” 

“Well, she’s my wife so I would hope so.” 

Your mouth drops open. Her lips on your skin, ghosting along your neck, filling you with heat and a need for more. “Oh, I’m so sorry for saying that, I had no idea, obviously. We just work together.” 

“Don’t be, doll. I’m sure the two of you would make quite the pair,” Dr. Vidal says, and you ignore the possible unprofessionalism at the pet name. She doesn’t seem offended at all, only fascinated. 

You shift in your seat again while trying to figure out what to say. “Well–” you start, but she cuts you off. 

“Let me guess, she’s been flirting?” 

Fuck. What do you even say? Is Dr. Vidal going to be mad, say she can’t treat you anymore? It’s not your fault, you hadn’t done anything. 

She scoffs. “You’re such a pretty young thing, I can’t blame her. You’ll have to come over for dinner with us some night.” 

“Um, is that allowed?” You ask, blinking slowly. You have absolutely no idea what is going on. Is your therapist suggesting a threesome with you and her wife and woman you’re working with? 

“Getting a meal with your support system? Why wouldn’t it be?” When she phrases it like that, it’s hard to find an error with her logic. 

You shrug. It would be nice to be able to talk freely about things. And you’re sure Agatha has told her about the case already. “Yeah, okay.”

“Is there anything else you want to talk about?” 

The question weighs on your mind as you chew on your lip and debate whether or not to tell her about the images you just saw. You don’t remember ever being in those woods. “Do patients ever, I don’t know, see things while they talk to you? Like false memories or something?” 

This gets her attention. “What did you see?” 

“Snow, and woods, and a flock of birds. I don’t know, it felt familiar but I’ve never…” You try to put it into words, but you don’t know how. 

“What happens when you try to follow that memory?” She asks and you close your eyes, but there’s nothing. 

“I–I can’t. There was like a pain in my head when you asked about what made me want to think like a killer, and then I saw it, but it’s not happening now.” You sound defeated, a testament to your frustration. 

Dr. Vidal frowns. “Do you know what repressed memories are? And I never asked you that.” 

It’s like the floor tilts under you and you stare blankly at her. You can only focus on the latter part. “No, you did, I remember…” You start to breathe heavily, panic rising in your chest, and she comes over to rub at your back. “I don’t understand.” 

“It’s possible you’re feeling a little overwhelmed by all this. I think you need to go home and get some rest. Did you sleep last night?” 

It makes sense to you now. You didn’t sleep at all, your brain is just playing tricks on you. “No.” 

She nods. “Go home. Take a nap. Let’s book a follow up, though. See if we can get to the bottom of those images.” 

You choose to come back in three days in the afternoon again and then you drive back to the motel. Your exhaustion suddenly weighs a ton and all you have to do is stumble in your room, collapse on the bed, and you pass out. 

The snow crunches underneath your boots as you trode through it. Branches claw at your legs through your pants and the wind whips your cheeks. 

It’s cold, but you can’t feel it. 

Where are you going? You don’t know, but your legs do. They take you through the woods into the clearing. 

You stand alone for a few minutes and then you hear someone – something? – approaching. 

A purple wolf. 

You crouch down to your knees and it saunters up to you. One eye is a piercing blue, the other is hazel. 

So familiar, yet otherworldly. You don’t understand. 

It opens its mouth to say something, and you’re leaning in to make sure you hear it, when –

Your phone rings and it jolts you awake in a cold sweat. You roll over in bed to find you’ve been asleep for hours. You reach for your phone when you realize that you’re completely naked. 

How did that happen? 

When you were younger, you know you had problems with sleep-walking, but you would always keep your clothes on. You file that away to talk to Dr. Vidal about next time. 

“Hello?” You say groggily, not even checking who’s on the other line. 

“It’s Agatha,” the voice says and it’s like a bucket of cold water gets thrown on you. “There’s been another murder.”

[iamgonnagetyouback]

jealous? who, me?

theodore nott x reader where you meet his friends for the first time and daphne is definitely not in your good books

↬ word count : 931 words ˎˊ˗

↬ warnings : secondhand embarrassment (for daphne) ⭑.ᐟ

↬ author's note : i loved this too much (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)

navigation┆theodore nott masterlist┆request here 𝜗𝜚

You weren’t supposed to be feeling this way. This was Theodore’s night—his friends, his circle, his world. You’d come to the party with the intention of being supportive and charming, maybe even making a good impression.

Until Daphne Greengrass entered the picture.

She was pretty. Too pretty. Effortlessly gorgeous with her sleek blonde hair, sharp cheekbones, and a laugh that danced through the room like wind chimes. And the worst part? She knew Theodore—knew him well.

You stood beside Theodore, nursing your wine glass and trying to maintain a polite smile as Daphne monopolized the conversation. Her hand brushed his arm—again—and she tossed her hair back with an almost rehearsed air of effortlessness.

Theodore, ever the gentleman, leaned in slightly to hear her better, his lips twitching at something she said. You weren’t entirely sure what was so funny, but you were sure it wasn’t that funny.

“Oh, that’s funny,” you muttered under your breath, your voice laced with dry amusement.

Theodore’s brow quirked, but before he could speak, Daphne excused herself. “Excuse me for a second, I need to grab a drink,” she said, flashing you a quick glance, one you could only describe as calculating.

Theodore turned to you as soon as she was out of earshot, his brows knitting together in mild confusion. “What’s funny?” he asked, his voice low and smooth.

You smiled sweetly, far too sweetly. “Nothing, Tesoro. Just enjoying the show.”

One brow arched as he slid an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “Amore mio,” he murmured, his voice carrying a teasing edge. “Should I be worried?”

You took a deliberate sip of your wine, eyes flickering toward the direction Daphne had gone. “Not at all. I think you’re the one being thoroughly entertained.”

Theodore’s lips twitched again, this time with a barely concealed laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are,” you shot back, your smile sharp enough to cut.

His brow quirked, but before he could say something, Daphne made her way over, holding two glasses of champagne. She handed one to Theodore, completely ignoring you.

“Thought you might need a refill,” she said, her tone light and lilting. “We wouldn’t want you getting parched, would we?”

You raised your own glass slightly. “Oh, don’t worry, Daphne. I’m keeping him hydrated just fine.”

Daphne’s smile faltered for half a second before she recovered. “How thoughtful of you.”

“Isn’t it?” you replied, tilting your head with faux innocence. “I like to take care of my things.”

Theodore’s grip on your waist tightened, and you could feel the low rumble of a laugh in his chest, though he didn’t let it escape. Instead, he pressed his lips to your temple in what was meant to be a calming gesture but only fueled your sass.

“So,” Daphne began, clearly trying to redirect. “Theo was just telling me about the time we went to Monaco together. What a trip, right?”

“Monaco?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow. “How quaint. Theo and I were just talking about planning something grander. Italy, maybe. You know, somewhere with a bit more... romance.”

Daphne blinked, clearly thrown off. “Italy’s nice. I’ve been to Tuscany a few times.”

“Of course you have,” you replied, swirling your wine lazily. “So cultured of you.”

Theodore cleared his throat, his grip on your waist now firmly grounding. “Amore mio,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear. “Play nice.”

“I am playing nice,” you whispered back, your tone dripping with faux sweetness. “She started it.”

“I heard that,” Daphne said, smiling tightly.

“Oh, good,” you said, flashing her a grin. “I’d hate for you to feel left out.”

Theodore’s shoulders shook slightly as he tried—and failed—to suppress a laugh. “Daphne, why don’t you tell me about that new project you mentioned earlier?” he asked, his voice steady despite his amusement.

“Oh, yes!” Daphne launched into an explanation about some fashion venture she was working on, her hands gesturing animatedly. You nodded along, your expression politely disinterested, until she said something you couldn’t resist.

“It’s been such a challenge finding the right balance between trendy and timeless, you know?” Daphne said.

“Oh, I wouldn’t know,” you replied airily. “I just wear whatever Theo likes to take off.”

Daphne’s cheeks turned a shade of pink that clashed horribly with her dress, and Theodore’s hand on your waist flexed as he pulled you even closer.

“Cara mia,” he said softly, his voice low and filled with warning. “Behave.”

“I’m behaving,” you said innocently, glancing up at him with wide eyes. “Aren’t I, Daphne?”

Daphne set her champagne down on a nearby table, her smile now more brittle than bright. “Well, it’s been lovely catching up, Theo,” she said, barely sparing you a glance. “I’ll see you around.”

As soon as she walked away, Theodore let out a quiet laugh, his forehead dropping to your shoulder.

“You’re impossible,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

“She’s impossible,” you shot back.

“She’s harmless.”

“She’s obnoxious.”

He straightened, his dark eyes gleaming as he looked at you. “You’re jealous.”

“Am not.”

“You are,” he teased, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Fine,” you admitted, crossing your arms. “Maybe I didn’t love the way she looked at you.”

“Amore mio,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “She could look at me all she wants. I’m still going home with you.”

You huffed, but the way his hand slid up your back and the warmth in his eyes softened your irritation.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you muttered.

“And you’re lucky I find you endlessly entertaining,” he replied, leaning down to kiss you.

[luvleyshif4]

BOUND TO YOU

Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Even after dating for years, you realize just how much you’re still in love with Rafe and how obsessed you are with him.

Warning: fluffiest fluff, lot of physical touch, tooth rotting love, reader is a book gyal, just readers pov (there aren’t really any serious warnings)

Word count: 813 words

Authors note: Soo this is the shortest one-shot I’ve written for Rafe out of the four. It’s just a little fluff I came up with after seeing a TikTok of a girl talking about how she’s still so obsessed with her boyfriend, even after 7 years of dating. Hope you all like it! 😘😘 (also love how this makes me feel so utterly single!!!!!!!!)

EDIT: I’ve already uploaded Rafe’s POV SO GO AND CHECK IT OUT!!

Rafe’s POV

The soft rustle of pages filled the air as you sat curled up on the far end of the couch, a book resting in your lap. It was one of those quiet evenings, where the world outside seemed to slow down, leaving just the two of you in your little bubble. Rafe was on the other end of the couch, his laptop open, his brows slightly furrowed as he typed away.

You had been flipping through the same page for at least five minutes now, but the words weren’t sticking. Your eyes kept wandering, drawn, as they so often were, to him. The way his lips pursed ever so slightly in concentration, the way his hair fell messily across his forehead. Even the small crease that appeared between his brows when he was focused felt endearing.

He was just sitting there, lost in whatever he was working on, but something about the scene made your chest tighten. Maybe it was the warm light of the room casting golden tones over his skin, or the quiet comfort of being together like this. Or maybe it was simply him, the effortless way he existed, the way he carried himself even in the smallest, most mundane moments.

You felt yourself staring, unable to stop. It was almost embarrassing, the way your heart fluttered like you were back at the start of your relationship. But here you were, years later, still completely captivated.

Rafe’s fingers paused on the keyboard, and he glanced up, his blue eyes meeting yours. His lips curled into a small, knowing smile. “What?” he asked, his voice soft but laced with amusement.

You froze, heat rushing to your cheeks. “Nothing,” you murmured quickly, looking down at your book, pretending to read.

But Rafe wasn’t convinced. “Uh-huh,” he said, his tone teasing now. You could feel his gaze on you, lingering, studying. “You’re staring at me, baby.”

“I’m not,” you said, a little too quickly, the warmth in your face growing.

He chuckled under his breath and set his laptop aside. Then, in one fluid motion, he lifted his arm and gestured toward you, silently inviting you to come closer. The look in his eyes was soft, teasing but warm, and you couldn’t help but feel drawn to him.

You closed your book, setting it on the coffee table, and moved toward him, sliding into his side. His arm wrapped around you almost instantly, pulling you closer, and you rested your head against his shoulder. His warmth was immediate, comforting, and you could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you. He smelled like clean laundry and the faint cologne he always wore, a scent that had become so familiar, so him.

Rafe didn’t say anything at first, just let out a soft exhale, his hand coming up to rest gently on your waist. His thumb brushed against your side absentmindedly, and the simple gesture sent a wave of butterflies through your stomach.

You tilted your head slightly, looking up at him. His face was so close now, his features softened by the dim light. Your eyes lingered on his lips for just a moment too long, and Rafe noticed.

He didn’t tease you. Instead, he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was slow, tender, and deliberate. It wasn’t rushed, it was the kind of kiss that felt like coming home, like an unspoken reminder of everything you shared.

His hand slid up to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he kissed you deeper. You felt yourself melt into him, your heart pounding in your chest, even though you’d kissed him a thousand times before. There was something about the way he kissed you each time that made the world feel impossibly small, as if nothing else existed but the two of you.

When he finally pulled away, your breath was unsteady, and your cheeks were warm. Rafe didn’t go far, though. He rested his forehead against yours, his eyes half-lidded and a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“You okay?” he murmured, his voice low and intimate.

You nodded, but the words you wanted to say caught in your throat. Instead, you leaned into him again, tucking your head against his shoulder. His arm wrapped around you, pulling you closer, and he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

It was in that moment, nestled against him with his hand resting protectively on your side, that it hit you.

Even after all this time, after all the years of being together, all the kisses and quiet nights and moments like this, you were still so completely, utterly in love with him. You still felt that same giddy, heart-stopping adoration that you did at the very beginning. He still made your heart race, still left you breathless, still consumed every part of you in a way no one else ever could.

You closed your eyes, letting the realization settle over you. It wasn’t just love, it was obsession, in the best way. He was your anchor, your home, the one person who could make you feel like this without even trying.

Rafe’s fingers traced absent patterns on your arm, his touch soothing. “You’re quiet,” he said softly.

You tilted your head to look up at him, a small smile playing on your lips. “Just thinking,” you replied.

“About what?”

You hesitated, your chest swelling with so much emotion it almost hurt. “You,” you said simply.

Rafe’s lips curved into a soft, genuine smile, and he leaned down to kiss your forehead again. “Good,” he murmured. “’Cause I’m always thinking about you.”

You didn’t say anything else, just tucked yourself closer to him, letting the steady beat of his heart lull you into a state of perfect contentment. Because in his arms, with his lips still lingering on your skin, you knew you were exactly where you were meant to be.

You knew you were bound to him the moment you met him. And even after all this time, you couldn’t get enough of him.

Authors note: Rafe’s POV is up now bbssss.😝

[sinofwriting]

Karma - Charles Leclerc

Words: 1,396 Summary: Charles and her had plans. 2025 would start with her fully moving in with him and then at the Monaco Grand Prix, they’d become public. A certain rapper ruins that in Vegas. Note(s): Lamar!Reader, Reader has the nickname ‘Butterfly’, slight smau, changed results of Abu Dhabi, also yes the title is referring to the Taylor Swift song, lol. Thank you @burningcupcakefire for encouraging me to write this when I mentioned the idea!!!

Masterlist | Support Me!

Charles could privately admit that when all the diss tracks started to come out, he more than paid attention to them. He had always appreciated Kendrick’s music but in the past year had gained a new perspective of him as both an artist and a person. All because he had started seeing the artist’s younger sister.

They hadn’t gone public yet, were still unsure of when they wanted to. He had reservations about putting more eyes on her and considering how his fans, how motorsport fans were, he could only imagine the baseless claims they’d made, the attacks they’d lay at her feet and Y/N, or Butterfly as she had been nicknamed by her brother’s fans, a nickname that had quickly caught to everyone in her life, had her own reasons.

She didn’t care about what fans would say, they were behind a keyboard, she could be perfect, and to Charles she was, and they would still find something to pick at, there was no winning. It was the attention he brought. She was already sometimes followed around by paparazzi just because of her brother, she knew that as soon as the news broke, she really would never be able to get her groceries in peace without some divorced thirty-year-old shouting questions as he took photos of her.

So they both had agreed that after the new year, when she was finally fully living with him in Monaco, and then at the Monaco Grand Prix, they would reveal their relationship, that of course didn’t go to plan because of one Instagram story.

—

—

Butterfly is fuming when he gets back to his hotel room, the curtains drawn back and letting the lights of Vegas spill into it, onto her. She’s nearly as stunning here as she is on his balcony in Monaco that faces the coast. A gorgeous backdrop that can’t even come close to her beauty no matter how much it tries.

Her fury makes arousal simmer in the pit of his stomach and his lips twitch upwards when she leans into the kiss he presses to the corner of her lips.

“You're nearly as mad as when he mentioned Whitney.”

She scowls at the verbal reminder of that shit. “He’s lucky I’m a civil adult.”

“Very civil.” Charles agrees.

“I mean, honestly what the fuck does he think he’s doing. Acting like he got an interest in F1.”

Charles listens as she starts to rant, having clearly waited for him, and he listens as undresses. Gathering his clothes up as her voice increases in volume and he gently tugs her with him into the bathroom, turning on the shower before easily lifting her onto the bathroom counter, her hands pausing their gesturing to run over his arms in thanks before she continues.

She rants through his brief shower, nearly slipping when she begins to read out texts between her and her brother.

“He is pissed?” His voice is nearly high, head poking out of the shower to look at her with wide eyes.

Butterfly looks at him in confusion, head cocked to the side. “Baby, of course. Your family. We don’t stand for shit like this against family.”

Charles can’t even point out that said shit is just an insta story of Drake saying he’s betting on him to win the grand prix, because he knows it feels deeper than that, especially with Drake’s history of betting. His mind is far too focused on the word family.

“I’m family?”

She lets out a laugh, tongue running over her teeth. “Baby, you got with me right before one of the worst times for our family and stuck through it. You never had to prove yourself, but that did it. You're stuck with all of us now.”

He feels warm all over at the words and he ducks his back into the shower, quickly rinsing off before climbing out, barely remembering to put a towel around his waist before capturing her lips in a kiss.

Her hands eagerly run over his back, legs opening to pull him closer and he tries to keep his upper body away from her, not wanting to get her shirt wet, but she pulls him closer and he can’t resist her, has never been able to.

“You’ve made me all wet.” She teases when they break apart.

He tries to apologize, but then she’s taking his hand and pressing it between them, against her leggings, and the feeling of wetness pulls a moan from the back of his throat.

“You are very lucky that I don’t listen to Andrea.”

“Very lucky.” She agrees.

—

“K said you had an idea.”

Charles lets out a hum, fingers trailing over her ribs.

“He wouldn’t tell me what.”

His fingers pause. “I was thinking instead of staying in Vegas tomorrow we go and see him.”

“We leave for Qatar on Monday.”

“We can make it back to Vegas in time for our flight. It’s barely a two-hour flight from there to here.”

This time she hums.

“Can we go public?”

He nearly chokes. “What?”

“Public, I want to go public. We had kind of talked about doing it before Monaco next season, but things have changed a bit.”

“Because I’m family.”

She laughs, “Yeah, baby, because your family.”

“What if we do a uh soft launch?”

“A soft launch?”

“Yeah, I’ll take a picture with your brother for my insta stories, start following you, you follow me back.” Excitement starts to build as he speaks.

“I post a little something about being in Qatar.”

“We do a little date night in Abu Dhabi.”

She hums, “You kiss me after you win Abu Dhabi.”

“You think I’m going to win?”

“Fuck yeah, baby. First Ferrari driver to win there and you’ll overtake Norris in the standings and maybe Ferrari will finish P2 in the constructors.”

“I like this plan.”

She smiles. “I like it too.”

—

—

—

—

“Yes Charles!”

“Yes!” He screams over the radio. “Where did Carlos finish? Where did Norris, Oscar?” He wants to celebrate the win, but the constructors and drivers are far more important.

“Carlos P6, Norris P3, Oscar P10. You are second in the drivers. And we are second in constructors, 2 points between you and Norris, four points between us and McLaren.”

“Fuck.” The excitement in him is simmered with resentment. Four points was all it came down to and of course it wasn’t in their favor.

“Charles, Charles,” Fred’s voice is thick over the radio. “You did fantastic, another win for you and an amazing drive!”

He smiles, taking his hands off to wave at fans as he slowly moves around the track. Italian easily spilling from his lips as he thanks Fred, Bryan, the mechanics, engineers and the whole team.

It’s satisfying to pull his car to the number one spot as Lando takes off his helmet, jaw twitching. Charles wants to shake him because how can he be this focused on second in the drivers when him and his team won the constructors. He stares at him for a second before getting out of the car and throwing himself into his teams arms.

They easily catch him, hands patting all over, his name spilling off lips over and over again. They grip him tighter before letting him go to take off his helmet and balaclava.

The air is refreshing against his face and normally he's taking a drink of water, starting to put back on jewelry, but today he’s searching through the crowd of red, heart thumping when he finally notices her.

She’s to the side, beaming at him as Bryan stands on her left while his mom and brothers stand to her right. And he goes to her.

His hands easily going to her face, holding it gently before kissing her.

She’s mumbling something against his lips and he wants to know what, but he can’t stop kissing her. Not when she’s clutching at his arms, pressing closer to him. But a nudge to the ribs makes him pull away, breathless, and his tongue runs over his swollen lips.

“So proud of you, baby! So fucking proud!” She yells at him as he’s pulled away for a post race interview and he can’t help but blow her a kiss, happy to have won in front of her for the first time and in front of his family again.

[karaeilishh]

𝜗𝜚 sorry? b. eilish . . .

a/n — you bitches wanted mad jealous dom billie so badly, here you go

cw — degradation, pathetic!reader, manipulative, jealous!billie

xmas fic n 2

maybe the christmas party was a really bad idea.

maybe your short red dress trimmed with fake white fur was a really, really bad idea.

maybe letting that girl buy you a drink was just a terrible idea.

“i-i’m so sorry, billie..” tears streaming down your cheeks, voice sounding so pathetic and desperate that her menacing expression is complemented by a chuckle. a loud intake of breath escapes plump lips before her piercing gaze burns a hole through your eyes. the pads of her fingers squeeze the sides of your neck painfully, nearly cutting off your airway. she can feel you pulsating beneath her grip.

“did i fucking tell you to apologize?” the wild glint in her eyes, the huskiness of her voice, so quiet yet terrifying, her entire existence made your legs buckle. you shake your head hysterically, unable to force the words out. the unknown is scary. "i said open up. wide"

you slowly open your mouth, the tip of your tongue resting on your bottom lip. her hand moves from your neck to grab your chin, almost breaking your jaw. her face is too close to yours, you can feel the hot breath passing through her clenched lips, the anger seeping from her entire being. "such a slut. mine"

it only takes a moment before you feel her warm, sticky spit on the back of your tongue, slowly dripping down your throat. your mouth is dry from the rapidity of your breathing.

"swallow, now" her tone is unwavering, terrifying, and you immediately comply, letting the liquid slide further down your gullet. she doesn't even call you a good girl like she usually does, her eyes are indifferent. just her fingers, parting your lips, pushing into your mouth. so deep that your gag reflexes work almost immediately. trying to lean further against the wall has no effect, billie just pushes her fingers further in, fucking your mouth. "suck"

lips wrap around three fingers, applying a little pressure as your tongue slides between them. her nails scratch the back of your neck, but it only adds more embers to the blazing fire between your legs.

as much as she loves the look of you like this, she gets bored quickly. her fingers leave your mouth with a dirty slurping sound, trailing a few strings of drool trailing from your lips. “you’ve upset me so much today.”

an apology threatens to fall from your lips, but you know that when she’s like this, you need to let her finish her monologue. iron rings burn against your heated skin as her fingers trace up your thighs. “i do everything for you, baby. and this is what i get in return? letting some slut buy you drinks.”

her tone of voice is sickeningly fake, making your stomach churn. billie was good at manipulating, making you feel so awful, just so she could fuck your brain mindlessly, turning your body and mind into a dumb mess. “it’s disrespectful, you know?”

more tears drip from your face onto your chest, leaving wet trails in their wake. "y—yes.." shame flooded your cheeks as you could barely see your girlfriend's face. she smiled softly for the first time, tilting her head to the side. "billie, i—i'm so sorry.."

"shh—shh—shh. my poor baby." her thumbs gently brushed the tears from your face as you shook under her touch. you both knew what a good attitude was the calm before the terrible storm. "you want to apologize to me properly, right?"

you nod.

"my sweet girl. only so obedient after she's been scolded."

tags - @chrissv4mp, @hkkuugu, @sweet3nerrr, @krosep, @stonerfromlesbos, @loveyoumatthewbernard, @47lake @ohdoyoustillcry, @bilsdillldough, @n0vabug, @bxllxeb, @hopingforgoodblogs, @mybluebossanova

[societyfolklore]

Merry Christmas, I Miss You

Title:  Merry Christmas, I Miss You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Female Reader

Summary: After overhearing a conversation at a Christmas party, Bucky realizes that you may miss him as much as he misses you. Determined to bridge the distance, he makes the first move to reconnect during the holidays, risking vulnerability to say the words he’s been holding back: Merry Christmas, I miss you.

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings:  //Warnings // Explicit Content //18+, Minors DNI, smut, Angsty, Petsname, Unprotected sex,  No Beta reading…

A/N:  Alex Crichton – 'Merry Christmas, I miss you' was the inspo for this.. damn song has been living in my head!

The compound was alive with holiday cheer, every surface glittering with Tony’s trademark flair for the extravagant. Twinkling lights wrapped around beams, garlands of evergreen adorned the walls, and a grand Christmas tree stood at the center of the room, its branches heavy with ornaments that seemed far too expensive for their own good. The scent of mulled cider and freshly baked cookies filled the air, mingling with the distant hum of holiday classics playing over the speakers.

It was everything a holiday gathering should be, filled with warmth and laughter, but for Bucky Barnes, it felt like he was standing outside of it all. He leaned against a corner wall, arms crossed over his chest, his lukewarm drink forgotten in his hand. His steel-blue eyes scanned the room, taking in the sight of his teammates laughing, mingling, and for once, letting their guards down.

He tried to let the festive energy seep into him, to shake off the weight that had been pressing on him for weeks now. But no matter how hard he tried, he felt miles away. Like he was a ghost in the room, watching everyone else enjoy a life he wasn’t sure he belonged in anymore.

It wasn’t just the usual holiday blues-no, this emptiness had a name. Yours.

Bucky sighed, his gaze drifting to the corner of the room where you’d stood last year. He could still picture you as if it had happened yesterday. You’d walked in late, the chill of the winter air clinging to you as you shrugged off your coat. Your cheeks had been flushed red from the cold, your smile sheepish as you muttered something about how much you hated New York winters.

He remembered how you’d lit up the room without even trying. Your laughter, your warmth, the way you managed to draw people in without a second thought. You’d been the brightest part of the party back then, and now your absence was like a gaping void, one he couldn’t ignore no matter how hard he tried.

He’d told himself he wouldn’t think about you tonight. That he’d keep his distance, let you enjoy the evening without the weight of his presence lingering in the background. But that had been a lie from the start. Every corner of the compound reminded him of you, of the way you’d made him feel less like the broken man he believed himself to be.

From his spot near the doorway, Bucky’s sharp gaze caught a flash of red on the balcony. Natasha. She was standing outside, her crimson hair catching the soft glow of the string lights wrapped around the railing.

And then he saw you.

His heart clenched painfully in his chest as you came into view, standing beside Nat. He hadn’t even realized you’d arrived. You were bundled in a soft sweater, the colour rich and vibrant against your skin, your hair catching the faint glow of the lights. From a distance, you looked as radiant as ever, but as he watched you, he noticed something different.

There was a sadness in your posture that hadn’t been there before. The way your shoulders slumped slightly, the faint shadow in your eyes, even as you laughed softly at something Natasha said. It was as if you were carrying a weight you didn’t know how to set down, and it made Bucky’s chest tighten all over again.

He should’ve turned away, should’ve given you the space you deserved. But curiosity got the better of him, and he found himself inching closer to the balcony, staying just out of sight as your voices drifted toward him.

“I don’t know, Nat,” you said, your voice soft but tinged with a melancholy that struck Bucky like a blow. “The city just feels too heavy this time of year. Everywhere I go, it’s like I’m walking through ghosts.”

Natasha’s reply was quieter, harder for him to catch. She placed a gentle hand on your arm, her expression unreadable as she listened.

“Maybe I need to get away,” you admitted after a pause, your voice barely above a whisper. “Just for a little while. A beach somewhere, maybe. I don’t know. It’s easier to forget when I’m not here.”

Bucky’s grip on his glass tightened, the faint sound of creaking metal snapping him out of his trance. You were leaving?

The idea of you slipping further out of his life sent a wave of panic crashing over him. He’d spent months convincing himself that letting you go was the right thing to do. That you deserved someone better, someone less damaged, someone whole. But now, hearing those words, he couldn’t help but wonder-had he made a mistake?

The thought hit him harder than he expected, knocking the air from his lungs. He turned away before you could spot him, retreating back into the warmth of the party. But even as he moved, the tightness in his chest didn’t fade.

Bucky leaned against the nearest wall, his head dropping as he fought to steady his breathing. The echo of your words replayed in his mind, louder and louder with each passing second.

He’d let you go, convinced it was the right thing. But what if it wasn’t? What if letting you go had been the biggest mistake of his life?

The noise of the party faded into the background, the laughter and music a distant hum as he stared blankly ahead. For the first time in a long time, he felt the stirrings of something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years: hope.

If you were still here, still lingering on the edges of his world, maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe he could fix this. Maybe he could find the courage to reach out.

But as he stood there, chest tight with regret and longing, one thought kept echoing in his mind, louder than the rest.

He didn’t want you to go.

*~*

That night, Bucky lay awake in his dimly lit apartment, the weight of your words pressing heavily on his chest. The room was silent save for the faint hum of the heater in the corner, its effort to fight off the biting chill doing little to ease the ache within him. The phone on his bedside table seemed to mock him, its dark screen reflecting his indecision.

He had your number. He could call you. The thought sent a jolt of nervous energy through him, his heart pounding against his ribcage. He imagined your voice on the other end, soft and familiar, the sound of it enough to pull him back from the edge of the spiral he’d been in for months.

But what if you didn’t want to hear from him? What if he’d already done too much damage, created a chasm between you that couldn’t be bridged? The fear of rejection kept his hand frozen, hovering over the phone but unable to bring himself to pick it up.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, his metal fingers brushing against his temple as he let out a shaky breath. The clock on the wall ticked steadily, each second passing with the same relentless rhythm as his thoughts. He replayed your voice in his head-the sadness that lingered in your words, the wistful tone that had nearly undone him when you spoke of leaving.

What if this was his last chance?

When the clock struck midnight, something in him snapped. His hand shot out, grabbing the phone before he could second-guess himself again. The screen lit up as he dialled your number, his heart hammering with every ring.

One ring. Two.

He almost ended the call, the weight of his doubt clawing at him. But then-

“Hello?”

Your voice was soft, hesitant, and so achingly familiar that it felt like a lifeline. The knot in his chest loosened slightly, though the words he wanted to say lodged themselves in his throat.

“It’s me,” he managed, his voice rough and unsteady. “Bucky.”

A pause stretched between you, the silence both heavy and fragile. “Bucky… hey, Is everything okay?”

He closed his eyes, the sound of your voice stirring something deep within him. “Yeah,” he said, exhaling a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “I’m fine. I just… I overheard you at the party. About leaving.”

“Oh.” Your voice was quieter now, and he imagined the way your brow might furrow as you processed his words. “I didn’t realize you were there.”

“I was,” he admitted, his fingers gripping the edge of the blanket as if grounding himself. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but… I heard enough.”

There was another pause, longer this time, and he could almost hear the gears turning in your mind.

“Why does it matter to you?” you asked softly, your tone cautious, as though bracing for his response.

Bucky swallowed hard, his throat dry as he tried to find the right words. “Because I don’t want you to go Doll,” he said, the vulnerability in his voice surprising even to him.

His admission hung in the air like a fragile thread, and he waited, his pulse thundering in his ears.

“Why not?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitated, the fear of baring himself completely nearly stopping him. But the memory of your laughter, the light you’d brought into his life, pushed him forward.

“Because I miss you Dol,” he said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I know I shouldn’t. I know I messed things up, but I miss you. And I thought… maybe… maybe you miss me too.”

Your breath hitched on the other end of the line, the sound so soft he almost missed it. The silence extended, and he wondered if you were even still there.

“Doll?”

“I do,” you whispered after a moment, the words cracking slightly. “I miss you too.”

Relief flooded him, leaving him momentarily speechless. He pressed the phone tighter to his ear, needing the connection, even if it was only through a device. His metal hand running through his hair.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he said after a moment, his voice trembling. “Letting you go. I thought you’d be better off without me, that I’d just mess things up more if I stayed.”

“Bucky…” Your voice was thick with emotion, and he imagined the way your lips might tremble, the way you’d fight back tears even as your heart softened.

“But I was wrong,” he continued, his voice firming with the weight of his conviction. “I was so wrong. Losing you-letting you walk away-was the worst mistake I could make. If there’s chance I can fix that,  fix us, I wanna do that it take to try.”

Silence stretched again, but this time it wasn’t heavy. It was charged, filled with the echoes of words unsaid and the fragile hope blooming between you.

“I don’t know what to say,” you finally admitted, your voice trembling.

“Just say you’ll give me a chance Doll,” he said, his tone quiet but resolute. “One more chance to make things right.”

Your breath hitched again, and he waited, hiSSs heart hanging on the edge of your response.

“Okay,” you said softly, the word like a balm to his frayed nerves. “Okay, Bucky.”

His lips curved into the faintest smile, the weight in his chest lifting for the first time in what felt like forever.

“Thank you,” he murmured, the words carrying all the emotion he couldn’t yet express.

“Don’t thank me yet,” you replied, a hint of humour lacing your voice. “You’ve got a lot to make up for.”

“I know,” he said, his tone filled with quiet determination. “And I will. I promise sweetheart.”

As the call ended, Bucky set the phone down with a steadiness he hadn’t felt in months. For the first time, hope flickered in the dark corners of his heart, and he clung to it with everything he had.

*~*~*~*

The next day, Bucky woke with a rare sense of determination. If there was even a sliver of hope to rebuild what he’d lost with you, he wasn’t going to waste it. His mind replayed the sound of your voice from the night before-soft, hesitant, but filled with the same longing that had kept him awake for months. It was enough to spur him into action.

Inspired by your love for grand gestures, he decided to do something bold, something undeniably him, and undeniably you. His plan? Turn his small, unassuming house into a beacon of Christmas cheer, a declaration of hope, vulnerability, and just a little bit of chaos.

The execution, however, proved to be more challenging than he’d anticipated.

For hours, Bucky wrestled with tangled strings of lights that seemed to fight back at every turn. He balanced precariously on ladders, muttering curses under his breath as the icy wind nipped at his fingers. Halfway through, he managed to drop an entire box of ornaments, glitter exploding across the room like a small festive bomb.

By the time he finished, he was sweaty, exhausted, and sparkling faintly from head to toe. He stepped back to admire his handiwork, his breath puffing in the cold evening air as he surveyed the glowing masterpiece.

The house was dazzling- perhaps a bit too dazzling. Twinkling lights wrapped around every beam, eaves lined with a cascade of shimmering icicle bulbs, and the walkway lit by glowing candy canes. It was extravagant, chaotic, and just a little ridiculous. But it was perfect.

To Bucky, it felt like more than just a holiday display. It was a reflection of everything he wanted to tell you but hadn’t found the words for yet. It was an invitation, a promise, and a plea all wrapped in one.

He pulled out his phone and dialled your number before he could second-guess himself.

“Come over,” he said simply when you picked up. “Please Doll, I want to show you something.”

You hesitated, and his heart stuttered. But then you sighed softly. “Okay, Bucky. I’ll be there soon.”

*~*~*~*

When you arrived, the sight stole the breath from your lungs.

Bucky’s house glowed like something out of a holiday dream, every inch covered in twinkling lights that danced against the snowy backdrop of the night. The air was crisp, the stars overhead faint in comparison to the warmth emanating from the home before you.

For the first time in weeks, a genuine smile tugged at your lips.

Bucky stood on the porch, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, his shoulders tense as he watched you. There was a nervous energy about him, as though he wasn’t sure if this gesture would land the way he hoped.

“Well?” he asked, his voice softer than you remembered, almost shy. “Is it too much?”

You shook your head, blinking back the sting of tears that pricked at the corners of your eyes. “No,” you said, your voice breaking slightly. “It’s perfect.”

Relief washed over his features, and he stepped closer, his boots crunching lightly against the snow-dusted porch. His gaze never left yours, the intensity of his steel-blue eyes grounding you as he bridged the gap between you.

“That look on your face right now,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “That’s all I want.”

Your breath hitched at the sincerity in his tone, the way his vulnerability wrapped around you like a second layer of warmth.

“Bucky,” you started, but he shook his head slightly, his lips curving into a soft, almost bittersweet smile.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, his words as much a confession as a plea. “I’ve missed this. Missed Us.”

Your heart clenched at the raw emotion in his voice. There was no hesitation, no bravado- just him, standing before you, laying his heart bare in a way that stole your words.

You took a tentative step closer, your hand reaching up to touch his cheek. The faint scruff of his beard scratched against your palm, grounding you in the moment. “I’ve missed you too,” you admitted softly.

Bucky leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment before he opened them again, locking onto yours. “I don’t want to waste any more time,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I want to make this right. Tell me I can do that?”

Tears spilled over, but this time they were warm, cathartic. “Yeah Buck, y-you can,” you whispered, the words thick with emotion.

“I can’t lose you,” he said simply. “Not again.”

His words broke the wall inside you, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned forward, your lips capturing his. The kiss was slow, tentative at first, but it quickly deepened, months of longing pouring into every movement. His hands cradled your face as if you were something fragile, something precious.

When you finally pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, your breath mingling in the space between you. Bucky’s hands lingered on your face, his thumbs brushing gently across your cheeks as if grounding himself in the reality of the moment. His chest rose and fell with unsteady breaths, the raw emotion in his eyes enough to steal the air from your lungs.

Without a word, he wrapped his arms around you, one hand sliding beneath your legs as he effortlessly lifted you off the ground. A soft gasp escaped your lips, and you instinctively looped your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling in the long strands of his hair.

“Let me take care of you, Doll,” he murmured, his voice rough but filled with tenderness.

He carried you up the porch steps, his footsteps slow and deliberate as if savouring the feeling of holding you close again. When he opened the door, the warm glow of the Christmas lights inside welcomed you, casting soft patterns on the walls. The room smelled faintly of pine and cinnamon, a cozy haven from the chill outside.

Bucky walked straight to the couch, sitting down with you still cradled in his arms. He shifted, his hands adjusting to hold you firmly as you straddled his lap. The proximity made your heart race, the heat of his body radiating through his jacket as your foreheads pressed together again.

“I’ve dreamed about this,” he whispered, his breath warm against your lips. “About you. About us. Tell me this isn’t a dream Doll.”

“It’s not,” you promised softly, your hands cupping his face. “I’m here, Buck. I’m yours.”

Something in him snapped at your words. His lips found yours again, more insistent this time, a hunger building between you that had been simmering for far too long. His hands slid down to your hips, gripping them firmly as he guided you closer, your bodies fitting together like pieces of a puzzle.

“God, Doll,” he groaned against your lips, his voice vibrating through you. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

His mouth moved from yours, trailing heated kisses along your jaw and down to your neck. He nipped lightly at the sensitive skin there, soothing it with his tongue before whispering, “Missed the way you taste, the way you feel.”

A soft whimper escaped you as his hands slid beneath your sweater, his rough fingers skimming over your bare skin. He groaned when he felt you shiver beneath his touch, his lips finding their way back to yours as he tugged the fabric over your head.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his eyes roaming over you with a reverence that made your breath hitch. “How’d I ever let you go?”

“Bucky,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you reached for the buttons of his jacket. He helped you shrug it off, the layers falling away until it was just the two of you, skin against skin, no barriers left to hide behind.

He shifted beneath you, his hands gripping your thighs as he stood, carrying you effortlessly toward the bedroom. “Need you,” he said, his voice raw. “Need to feel you, Doll. Need to remind you how much you mean to me.”

You barely registered the soft thud of the bedroom door closing before he laid you gently on the bed, his weight settling over you like a protective shield. His lips found yours again, his kiss deep and unrelenting as his hands explored every inch of you.

“Bucky,” you gasped when his lips trailed lower, leaving a path of fire down your chest and stomach. “Please.”

“Patience, Doll,” he murmured, his voice a mix of teasing and worship. “I’m gonna take my time with you. Show you how much I’ve missed you.”

His hands moved with a deliberate slowness, peeling your jeans down your legs inch by inch. His lips followed the curve of your hips, his breath warm against your skin as he left a trail of kisses down your thighs. Each touch sent a ripple of anticipation coursing through you, your body trembling beneath his attentions.

When you were bare before him, he paused, his eyes raking over you with an intensity that made your breath catch. The room seemed to hum with the weight of his gaze, the hunger and reverence in his expression sending a flush across your cheeks.

“So perfect,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. His hand slid up your legs, his calloused fingers trailing fire along your skin as they gripped your hips possessively. “All mine.”

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice a whispered plea as your fingers gripped the sheets beneath you. “All yours, Buck.”

A low growl rumbled in his throat at your words, and he leaned down, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that was both tender and demanding. His tongue slid against yours, tasting you, claiming you, while his hands continued their exploration, mapping every inch of you as if committing you to memory.

When his lips left yours, they trailed down your jaw, your neck, and then lower. He took his time, his mouth lavishing attention on every sensitive spot, drawing soft gasps and moans from your lips. His teeth grazed the curve of your breast before his tongue soothed the ache, his name tumbling from your mouth like a prayer as his hand found the heat between your thighs.

“You’re so wet for me, Doll,” he said, his voice thick with satisfaction. His fingers teased your folds, spreading your slick arousal before circling your clit with slow, torturous precision. “Been dreaming about this. About you.”

Your hips arched into his touch, your body begging for more as his fingers worked you expertly. The coil of pleasure in your belly tightened with each movement, and just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, his fingers slid inside you, curling to hit the spot that made your vision blur.

“Bucky,” you whimpered, your hands tangling in his hair as he kissed his way back up your body.

“Let go for me, baby girl,” he murmured against your skin.

You did as beautiful as he remembered. The release crashed over you like a tidal wave, your back arching off the bed as his name spilled from your lips in a breathless cry. Bucky watched you the entire time, his gaze dark and possessive as he guided you through the waves of pleasure.

But he wasn’t done.

As you came down, your body still trembling, he shed the last of his clothes, the sight of him stealing what little breath you had left. His muscles rippled as he moved over you, the heat of his body pressing into yours as he lined himself up at your entrance.

“Look at me, Doll,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. His vibranium hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. “I need to see you. Need to know you’re here.”

Your eyes met his, and the intensity in his gaze made your heart ache. Slowly, he pushed into you, the stretch a perfect mix of pleasure and pain as he filled you completely. He groaned deeply, his head falling to your shoulder as he stilled for a moment, letting you adjust to the feel of him.

“Feel so fucking good,” he breathed, his voice raw and strained. “-made for me Doll.”

He began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, as though savouring every second. His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he drove into you, the friction sparking fire in your veins.

“Bucky,” you moaned, your nails digging into his shoulders as he picked up the pace, each thrust deeper and harder than the last. The sound of your bodies moving together filled the room, every gasp, groan, and whispered plea driving Bucky on.

“That’s it,” he growled, his lips brushing against your ear. “Take me, Doll. Let me feel you.”

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer as he thrust into you with a desperation that matched your own. The tension between you built higher and higher, the edge drawing closer with every movement.

“Oh god.” It was impossible not to get lost in him.

“You going to come again for me, babygirl?” he rasped, his hand sliding between your bodies to find your clit. His thumb pressed down in time with his thrusts, and the combination sent you spiralling closer the edge, squeezing him. “Going to show me you missed me too?”

“Y-yeah Buck going, to.. god.. fuck.” You nodded frantically, your brows pinching together as it all started to build, a whimper leaving you and he hit that spongey spot inside.

Your release hit you hard, your walls clenching around him as your cries filled the room. Bucky followed seconds later, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep inside you, his release spilling into you as he groaned your name.

For a moment, the world stood still, the only sound the heavy breathing of the two of you tangled together. Bucky collapsed onto his forearms, his weight resting carefully on you as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

“Love you,” he whispered, the words slipping out in the haze of the moment.

Your heart swelled, and you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close. “I love you too, Bucky,” you said softly, the truth of it settling over both of you like a balm.

He shifted, rolling onto his side and pulling you with him so that you were tucked against his chest. The soft glow of the Christmas lights bathed the room in a warm hue, wrapping you both in their gentle light.

“Never letting you go again, Doll,” he murmured, his voice resolute as he pressed another kiss to your hair.

And as you lay there, wrapped in his arms, you believed him. For the first time in a long time, everything felt right.

[meazalykov]

siblings or dating?

mary fowler x mancity!reader

summary: people never knew what your relationship was like with your doppelgänger

it’s always been something people noticed first. the resemblance.

you still remember the first time you met mary, both of you showing up early to manchester city’s preseason camp. its weird wearing blue, since you were used to the pink you wore for portland. 

the first person you spotted was mary. you spotted her across the field and froze for half a second—she looked like you. same sharp jawline, matching cheekbones, eyes that crinkled the same way when she laughed. 

she must’ve felt it too because when her gaze landed on you, she blinked, tilted her head, and gave you the same crooked grin you wore when you were confused.

“weird,” she’d said when you finally introduced yourselves, shaking hands, studying each other like you were staring into a mirror.

“yeah.. uh.. it’s a little weird,” you agreed, trying to suppress the laugh that bubbled in your throat.

it wasn’t until months later that you realized how much weirder it would get. teammates made jokes almost immediately, calling you “twins” when you sat next to each other on the team bus, making you pair up for drills because “you’re basically the same person.” 

you and mary laughed it off at first. then it started becoming a thing. fans pointing it out on social media. commentators stumbling over how to describe you when you lined up next to each other on the pitch. 

your own families were raising eyebrows when you brought mary home over the holidays. it’s impossible not to see it: you look alike.

so when you and mary fell into a relationship—a slow burn that neither of you expected but both of you welcomed—you wondered how the hell you were going to explain it to anyone outside the locker room.

“we’re not sisters,” mary said once, teasing you after a particularly brutal “twin” joke from the team. 

“i promise. i’m just the prettier version of you.”

you rolled your eyes but smiled anyway because, well, you thought mary was beautiful. it didn’t matter that she looked like you; she wasn’t you. she was stubborn and fierce and australian and always knew when to crack a joke to lighten the mood. 

she wasn’t your mirror—she was your partner.

it didn’t stop the world from noticing, though. the viral moment happened on an ordinary saturday afternoon, city up by a single goal against arsenal. you were desperate to close the game out, sprinting into the box as the minutes ticked down. laia sent a pass your way, and you didn’t think—just struck the ball cleanly, sending it past the keeper into the far corner.

the stadium erupted. you spun around, pumping your fists in celebration, and then mary was there, arms wrapping around you from behind, lifting you off the ground.

“yes, y/n!” she shouted into your ear, her voice breaking through the roar of the crowd.

you laughed, leaning back against her, letting the moment settle over you. you could feel her grinning against your shoulder, her excitement bleeding into yours. 

for a second, you forgot that you were on a pitch in front of thousands of people—it was just you and mary, a girl who loved you and who you loved right back.

the moment exploded on social media.

fans who followed you closely were thrilled, posting screenshots of mary’s arms around you, captions calling it the sweetest thing they’d ever seen. but casual viewers, the ones who didn’t know your story, were confused.

“are they sisters or girlfriends?”

“this is so weird. they look identical.”

“is anyone going to talk about how she’s dating her doppelgänger?”

you and mary laughed about it later, scrolling through twitter together on the couch. mary leaned her head on your shoulder, smirking as she read a particularly unhinged comment aloud.

“it’s strange, isn’t it?” you murmured, setting your phone down. 

mary hummed, thoughtful for a beat. 

“maybe. but we don’t have to explain anything to anyone, do we?”

she was right. you didn’t owe anyone an explanation. you didn’t owe them the story of how you met,and  how you fell in love. you’d found someone who made you feel seen and loved and whole—someone who just happened to look like you.

“besides,” mary added, nudging you playfully, 

“you’re lucky. not everyone gets to date someone as beautiful as me.”

you rolled your eyes, laughing softly as you kissed her temple. 

“you’re right. i’m lucky.”

and you were.

you didn’t care what anyone else thought. mary was yours, and you were hers, and that was all that mattered.

masterlist

[purpamint]

Even after two years this is still one of my favorite comics I’ve made, and since it’s the holiday season, here’s the text version of it I wrote for it today that has some fun bonus details that I’m pretty happy with:

Back when Kris and Noelle back were both kids, they were opening presents while sitting by a Christmas tree. Kris is wearing their red horns that they supposedly wore a lot as a kid. Kris opens their present and reveals a green and yellow striped sweater. After Kris opens their present, Noelle cheerily says, “Merry Krismas! Dess and I worked together to make you this sweater!!”

Kris looks in awe, exclaiming, “WOAH!! so cool....”

Noelle gives Kris a thumbs up with a happy expression, saying “why don’t you try it on?”

“ok!”

Asriel and Dess are both looking at Kris now that they’ve tried on their new sweater. The sweater is visibly way too big for Kris.

Asriel is smiling, but his expression betrays the fact that he is a bit worried that the sweater doesn’t fit Kris, however he is still trying to stay on the bright side.

Asriel expresses, “It’s a bit oversized…”

Dess, focusing more on Kris’s enjoyment of the present than the size, looks to Asriel and assuredly states, “They seem to like it!” She proudly stands with her hands on her hips with a satisfied smile.

Kris wears their sweater with a delighted smile as if they were as content as one could be. It was as if in nothing the world could be better than as small as sweater made just for them. It was as if they would be fine if this one moment lasted forever.

Dess, continuing what she was stating earlier, laughs, “Hah! It doesn’t matter if it fits as long as they like it!” Clearly pleased at how much Kris seems to enjoy their present, she remains unbothered by the minor issue of the size. Asriel, less concerned after realizing Kris’s genuine joy at the sweater, finally agrees with Dess, albeit still reserved “I guess so!”

Many years later…

The world is completely black. It feels as if so much time has passed. The darkness only brings back those warm distant memories. The darkness feels like daydreaming with eyes closed. Those dreams feel real yet so fragile…

Noelle sees Kris while at school

Casually starting a passing conversation with an old friend, she laughs, “Woah Kris… talk about a flashback!! Fa-ha!”

It was like she was suddenly propelled millions of years back in to the past, reminded of both the embarrassing and the bittersweet moments.

Caught up in the moment of remembrance— almost as if all the years of distance between the two teens had suddenly melted away to potentially forge some sense of reconnection— she continues, “You haven’t worn that since…” Quickly trailing off.

Reality comes back like a tsunami of ice water over a blacksmith’s freshly re-heated piece of iron. The once re-shapable metal is now chilled and harder to change.

Now, the darkness has faded out.

Noelle couldn’t help but wonder about Kris sometimes. Why wear that sweater…? Not that it’s a bad thing, but it hasn’t been worn in ages…

With an inquisitive expression, she politely asks, “Any reason why you’re wearing it?”

Kris sits at their school desk slightly leaning forward laying their chin on their right hand. Their other arm lays on their desk as if they were partially crossing their arms. They do not look directly at Noelle. They almost appear as if they are not looking at anything at all— or at least not towards anything in particular. They have an introspective expression. Like they are thinking about old friends, old memories, old dreams… at least that’s what it seems.

“I guess I have been feeling nostalgic lately…” Kris replies. An indirect response like that from them was not unusual.

…but…

It seemed like that they were being honest.

It’s generally hard to read them, it was even hard to read them back when they were more open…but Noelle is so familiar with them that it is almost natural, even if the skill has a little bit of rust.

Kris looks softly at their sweater. It’s been so long since they’ve worn it, but they still remember the day they got it. They wished that day would last forever back then. Sometimes they still do. It felt so big back then, but now it matches their size much closer, even if it is a bit baggy in some places. But it’s honestly more comfortable that way… they never minded oversized clothes anyways.

They loved it so much because it was made with care, just for them.

It’s their favorite sweater…

It fits almost perfectly…

Little deltarune comic for the holidays! (About the Holidays too, wow) This took a bit longer to make than expected because I chose to make it on paper, so I had to do a bit of color adjustments to make it look right in the photos. Despite it’s lateness hope y’all like it! :D

[fawninthesnow]

𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥: One Shot

𐙚 Marcus acacius x fem!reader/emperor geta x fem!reader 𐙚 18+

Summary: You are the Empress of Rome in a mundane marriage to Emperor Geta. After a military banquet, you find yourself in the bedroom of his subordinate, Marcus Acacius.

Warnings/Contains: fem reader, smut, teasing, pinning, [slight] dirty talk, unprotected sex, cheating, deny orgm, not proof read,

Word Count: 2.5k

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“I did not think you would remember my name.” Acacius remarked.

“With all you do for this great country…how could I, *Marcus* Acacius?” You smiled in the shade as two servants fanned your tanned skin.

He chuckled with a sly grin while holding the ball in both his hands, tossing it back and forth. “Why did you say that so condescendingly? I would love to hear something genuine coming out of your mouth. After all, you’re the empress.” He laughed before clearing his throat.

“So, I should kiss your ass?”

“In no way, Miss.”

“How about this…” You touch your chin, your [e/c] eyes falling on his chest and strong biceps. “Thank you, Marcus.” You said, touching your thigh. You smiled at his cheeks as they flushed pink.

“I apologize, Miss, in case I disrespected you.”

“It’s water under the bridge, isn’t that right?” He listened to the laughed in your voice as you stood nearly against him now. He inhaled the vanilla and Lily scent off your body. He craved to pull you into his embrace and just taste, a simple taste of your neck. To press his lips on your warm honey skin and suck on your nipples, squeeze and touch you until you could no longer take it

“Your dessert, Miss [].” A server offered you a sweet dessert on a silver platter with a heavy silver spoon. There was a period of silence as the two took in their surroundings and the people who filled that space.

“Lady [y/n], are you and your better half still coming to the Banquet? I know the emperor has not made many appearances.”

You licked a swirl of cream from the spoon. Marcus grew flustered— not that you cared to notice but your eyes fell to his hands. “We will be there.” The sound of her finger leaving her mouth and cream filling on her tongue made his loins ache. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Marcus stayed still. That same small smirk. That same tilt of his head that made his hair shift. That same look of desire and determination to grab and take that seductive woman into his arms, into his rough hands. “Well. I should be going. Enjoy the rest of your day off...” Marcus smiled as he looked away from you.

**That night.**

After a dance, you found yourself on the main balcony. You caught your breath, feeling the cool breeze on your bosom and as it flowed in your dress. “Feeling alright?” Marcus’s melancholy and calm voice touched her ears.

Without turning around to him, you responded. “Yes.” Her tone was that of a question (nearly).

He smiled, moving to your side. “Wine?”

You took the offered glass and smiled, “Thank you, Mister Acacius.”

“Of course, Miss.” You sipped from your glass as the two of you stood together. He threw back the last of the wine in his glass before moving closer. “You seem introverted tonight. What are your days like?”

“Hm? Well, you know, I sit around…and wait for my husband to come to me.” Your body leaned against a pillar, facing him on the balcony as wind whipped your hair around. “Everyday.” You sighed softly; a sad, drunken moan left your lips.

“That doesn’t sound too fun.” He moved closer, his dark hair softly turned and flipped in the night spring breeze. Your looked at his arms, his chest in his white garments. He is a big man, much different from Geta. “Geta does not let you out much?”

“I’m not a dog…but yes, it’s rather hard to convince him to do anything but what he wants.”

“Even with a body like yours?” You said nothing to that, smirking as your eyes settled inside each other. His expression was hard and serious, “I did not mean to offend you. I just cannot believe there’s a man out there that wouldn’t follow your every word.” You touched your own waist and hips, tracing the design on your dress. “Are you happy with…?”

“My husband?”

“Your predicament.”

“…no. How’s things for you and yours?” He smiled softly before breaking into a deep yet empty laughter, “I take it, *Lady* Acacius has a love for the more…” You walked past him and to the other pillar to your left, draping against it as you sipped from the glass, the straps of your dress slipping down your soft shoulders. “Mundane…rather, ‘Vanilla’ things of life. One lover, one child, one home, one position, one bed, same sheets, same plates, same clothes. Isn’t that exhausting?” Your gaze fell onto his slightly pink lips and strong nose.

Your pupils stayed on his lips when they moved, “I don’t think we are close enough for me to tell you the truth.” Your glass was placed on the balcony table.

You took his hands, his rough calluses into your soft ones. He stood close but still, you brought him against your body until you were stuck between him and the pillar. “Is this close enough?”

“Yes.” His warm breath on your ear as his right hand caressed your neck; you look up at him. “You’re drunk.”

“*We’re* tipsy.”

“Doesn’t make it any better.” His deep voice made your thighs spread involuntarily. His palm wondered down the breasts of your dress. Nervous and feeling rather out of himself, Marcus let out shaking breaths. “Let’s go inside.” You looked away from him, letting the wind whip your hair about her face again. He moved hair from your full lips and cheeks. “I can’t stand it when you don’t look at me.” You smiled, turning your gaze back to him. When his hands fell on the hips of your dress, you let out a soft breath. Marcus leaned deeper onto you, enveloping you with his body.

“You are an attention hungry man.” Your fingertips rubbed his pants, gently stroking.

“I only want your attention.”

You thought back to the many times he’d laugh louder at your jokes than others. When he’d move his seat till he was directly across from you at dinner parties. “Poor thing.” You caressed his cheek as his eyes shut. He exhaled on the top of your head, enjoying your touch, and the feel of your curves pressed on him. His hips pushed onto you; his garments felt tight, tighter than ever. His cock needed to breathe. You smiled, turning around so your cheek touched the pillar, and ass pressed on his clothes. As if bucking against you, he held you still, guiding your ass along his boner.

“…damn.” You raised your dress over the curve of your ass. “H- holy shit.” He stared at your bare thighs and ass; such made him groan with pleasure. You felt his warm breath as he pants over your shoulder; he continues working his hips against your ass.

The door to the balcony swung open and the two tore from each other. Marcus stood against the railing, gripping it tightly as he tried to relax his lustful gaze and stiff erection. He gulped, praying his cock wouldn’t bust the seams of his pants as he looked away from anything around him. You fixed your hair, and straightened out your dress before turning to the open door. Geta, drunk and groaning, held onto the door handle for support.

“My, my! Geta.” You helped your husband stand.

“What’s…uh…what…” Geta mumbled, looking at your glossy eyes as he held your cheeks. “What’s goin on? You two…are talking about me, huh?”

“You’re paranoid.”

“It’s my job to be…” He smiled, covering your face with his hot, wine-stained breath. Your lipstick smeared on his face as you messily kissed. Marcus exhaled although shaking, attempting to ignore the erotic sounds that sounded as if it came from a *speaker* behind him. He groaned with no control, letting out a sigh. “Who….right, Marcus. Marcus…Marcus, C’mere. Look at…me.” Marcus cleared his throat, turning to the man. “You look red…”

“You look drunk.” He muttered, watching as the man leaned on his tipsy wife. For a moment, there was silence, then the three laughed.

“Fucker. Haha! I swear…he’d kill me if…I weren’t his emperor.” Geta’s words slurred, and he sighed many times as he spoke.

“Who says I haven’t tried?” Marcus muttered before helping you carrying him.

“You’re funny.” Geta coughed and groaned before trying to fix his posture.

“There are rooms here for guests. Our room is…down the hall.”

“Allow me. I don’t want you to mess up your dress.” You observed Marcus as he sneered, putting Geta in his shoulder. Geta continued to dip out of consciousness, trying to watch his wife’s gaze but it stayed on Marcus.

Later that night, Marcus sat up in bed, glaring at the wall ahead. His wife stayed to her side of the bed, snoring quietly. With his chest rising calmly, he thought of the empress in her dancing dress, leaning forward as she sat at the dinner table. He was beside her at the time with Geta to her left. Although she held her husband’s arm, she leaned to Marcus. Her bosom against his body. Her body was warm, he recalled. Before any time at all, his erection stood beneath the covers. He shut his eyes and mumbled to himself, “Fuck.” As they sat beside each other at the time, he wanted to cup her chest, to rub her ass, maybe even slip his fingers inside of her—

Marcus opened his eyes, not surprised to find his fist around his cock, gently holding himself. With a quick glance to his right, he looked at his wife. His chest heaved as his imagination ran wild about the other woman, about you. He wanted to tie you down to his headboard and make love to you until your body was spent and twitching. Marcus stood, running his fingers through his dark hair before going to the bathroom. He snatched his wife’s lavender body moisturizer from the counter and dipped his hand inside before rubbing it along his shaft with a roughness of a sexually frustrated man. He hadn’t had sex in weeks, not with his wife, a woman who prefers planned sexual activity. On his own, he’s made himself cum more times than her lips have since they’ve met.

He slipped on a robe, and called over a guard, “Send word to the emperor’s suite.” He offered the man a paper. The guard quickly knocked upon the door. You opened the bedroom door. “Marcus?” You read the note. *Come to my room.*

Marcus’s chest heaved and his breath were huffs heavy with lust as he quietly masturbated inside of the bathroom. The man leaned over the counter, and resisted his orgasm. He imagined your perfume scent in his nose beneath him as he huffed, making his hips throb.

His bedroom door was the only one with one flame burning outside, your curiosity grew as the door opened slightly. In the yellow lighting, your pretty body and round face met his gaze. He invited you inside and shut the door. At the nearest wall, he pressed you softly against it, gripping your sheer robe. “Take it off.” You nodded, untying the cloth. He stayed pressed up against your body, breathing deeply… “Fucking hell, you look amazing.”

You looked up at him with glossy [e/c] eyes, hoping and praying he’d make that first move. *No*. You thought. “I- I shouldn’t. Geta. He’s not the best man when he’s angry. Especially over me.”

“Fuck.” He held your throat and brought you closer. His tongue explored your mouth as you softly moaned—you couldn’t help it. His hands rubbing your thighs. He couldn't believe this was happening to him. The slight moans mixed with his words gave away a hint of his excitement. Your leg went to his hip and once again, you felt his erection; this time pressing on your soaked slit.

Marcus let out a soft groan as you scratched around his neck, your actions were getting to him... really getting to him. Your breathing was matching his, your hands were as hungry as his to feel and touch.

He controlled your body, pinning you up on the love seat. “Shhh,” He smiled before he noticed a certain reluctance towards him, “Don’t look away from me. Let me have you.” You agreed, letting your eyes shut. He gently slipped inside of your tight pussy, filling you until those pretty eyes fell back and shut closed.

Marcus's body heated up as your lips moved against his cheek, your tongue tracing the contours of it. He lets out another soft moan as you start to move against him now, grinding your hips deeply against his. Your movement was causing his body to shiver, it seemed as though his hands started trembling now too. “Oh, Marcus,” The sound of your whimpering only excited and riled him up more and more. “You are more of a man than he will ever be.” He gently pushed his hips against yours, making you squeal and scratch his back with your nails. Your words of him being a man had him breathing a bit more heavily. His fingers gently slid up your neck, down to your nipple, gently teasing and rubbing it until your body writhes under his. Moans left your lips, making it hard for you to stay quiet.

The movement and noise they made shook the love seat and the bed his wife lay asleep on, shake. “A- ah~ My empress~” Marcus groaned into your ear, pushing his hips faster with these quick strokes. Your eyes water and spill tears as his thick cock stretched your cunt.

“Hmm-“ His lips met yours, messily smearing your lipstick. “F- fuck, Marcus. Fuck me.” He held you still under him, quickly pounding his hips against yours until you could only tremble, staring in his eyes. “You’re too loud~” You whispered, listening to the squelch of your own wetness and the creak of the furniture.

A few loud knocks on the door echoed in the room, followed by another set of loud bangs. Marcus’s heart pounded as he turned around. “…shit!” His wife slowly rose from bed, wiping her eyes.

“[Y/n]! [Y/n]? Are you in there?!” Marcus pushed you under the bed and put on a robe. He looked at his wife and smiled.

“Go back to bed, honey.” The woman groaned, laying back on the pillows. When Marcus answered the door, he tossed his hair, “Hello?”

“Is [Y/n] in there?” Geta asked roughly, rather hungover. “My wife.”

“Eh, I haven’t seen her all night.” He smiled, leaning on the door. “Would-“

“No.” Geta interrupted gruffly.

End <3 (Thinking of doing a part 2!!) Sorry for any spelling/ grammar mistakes!

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[mingi-s-dimples]

Raw Need - Yunho

KINKTOBER DAY 29, REQ. BY 🤧

~"IM BACK AGAIN W ANOTHER REQUEST okay so its an omegaverse , reader is an omega and their dear partner is an alpha ( lets say yunho) and like this is readers first rut she couldnt control it at all because it was her first ever rut and she didn’t want to go tell yunho but because of the sweet smell of her pheromones yunho instantly knew what happened and it was clear that reader was feeling hotter and redder than usual when yunho asked her about at first she said no but after a little time she told him which make yunho go feral he asked “Would u mind if i helped” (They never did the bombaya before but they took showers and he was BIG.) but yunho didnt wait for an answer and he put his head in her neck slowly kissing her neck inhaling her sweet smell making him go crazy and get hard (a little skip time like they got undressed blah blah blah ) and when it was time for him to enter her like she told him to go slowly and that shes a little bit scared because she never took him before aka like a over all like gentle first time but after he stretched her out he was rough going deeper and deeper every time and maybe a little after care too 👉🏼👈🏼"

pairing: alpha!yunho × omega f!reader

genre: 18+, omegaverse, slight filth

summary: your first rut washed rough over you... and even if you didn't wanna do anything about it... your man made sure he'd fuck you senseless thru your rut.

wc: 5.1k

warnings: omegaverse, harsh dom!yunho, virgin/first rut for reader, marking, love at first then rough sex, mirror sex, hair pulling, pussy eating, making out, praise, some pet names, unprotected, completely consensual, for sure forgot something, might edit later.

Author's Note: I loved writing this one tbh... bestie I hope you like it and it's to your liking 😁 ily 🤍

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member in any way.

The quiet hum of the afternoon wrapped around the room like a cocoon, its tranquility disrupted only by the faint shuffle of papers and the occasional sound of distant footsteps. The room was nothing short of lavish, its opulence apparent in every detail. Velvet curtains hung heavy over the tall windows, filtering the sunlight into soft, golden streams that spilled across the polished hardwood floor. A grand bed sat in the center of the room, its plush, cream-colored duvet perfectly arranged, though you hadn’t dared to sit on it. Across from the bed, a gilded mirror stretched nearly to the ceiling, its ornate frame gleaming faintly in the dim light. Yunho had chosen its placement himself, a detail that always made your cheeks flush when you caught his lingering gaze in its reflection. Now, with the heat of your rut clouding your thoughts, the mirror felt more intrusive than ever.

The air was thick, though, laced with something so delicate and sweet that it bordered on intoxicating. You didn’t notice at first. Or maybe you did, but the swirling haze of heat pooling in your stomach had grown too overwhelming to let you focus on much else.

Your rut was coming on fast—too fast.

Leaning against the edge of the heavy wooden desk for balance, you drew in a shaky breath, your hands gripping the smooth surface like it was the only anchor in the storm raging inside of you. A feverish heat coursed through your veins, making your skin flush and your breaths uneven. You swallowed hard, your gaze darting toward the door as anxiety churned in your chest.

Yunho was just outside.

You hadn’t planned on telling him. How could you? The thought alone made your cheeks burn hotter than they already were. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him—he was always so gentle with you, so caring, even when his alpha instincts occasionally surfaced in subtle ways. But this was different. This was your first rut. An experience so raw, so visceral, that it made you feel exposed in a way you couldn’t explain.

But Yunho would never let it go unnoticed.

The soft knock on the door startled you, your pulse jumping as you instinctively turned your head toward the sound.

“Y/N?” Yunho’s voice, low and warm, slipped through the crack in the door. It wasn’t just a question—it was a demand cloaked in care, his presence pressing against the threshold like a force you couldn’t escape.

You pressed your lips together, debating whether to respond. Surely he wouldn’t notice anything if you just—

The door creaked open before you could finish that thought, and Yunho stepped inside. His eyes found you instantly, and the moment they did, the room shifted.

The air grew heavier, electric, as his gaze darkened. His nostrils flared subtly, and you watched his jaw tense as he inhaled deeply. That sweet, unmistakable scent of your pheromones had reached him, and the effect was instant. His shoulders stiffened, the usual calm in his expression shattering as raw, unfiltered instinct bled through.

“Are you okay?” His voice was softer than you expected, but the tension behind it was unmistakable. He took a step closer, then another, his broad frame making the room feel impossibly small.

You nodded quickly, too quickly. “I’m fine,” you said, though the slight tremor in your voice betrayed you.

Yunho’s eyes narrowed, his sharp gaze sweeping over you. You could feel him dissecting every detail—the way your hands trembled against the desk, the sheen of sweat on your flushed skin, the way your breaths came faster than normal. He knew.

“It’s your first rut, isn’t it?” His voice was lower now, rougher, the barely contained growl in his tone sending a shiver down your spine.

You hesitated, caught between denial and the truth that your body had already given away. Finally, you nodded, your gaze dropping to avoid the intensity of his stare.

But that was all it took.

Something inside Yunho snapped. A low, guttural growl rumbled from his chest, and the tension that had been building between you broke like a dam. In the next instant, he was in front of you, moving faster than you could process. His hand cupped your face, firm and unyielding as he tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“You should’ve told me.” His voice was rough, feral, his breath hot against your skin. “You think I wouldn’t notice? You think I’d let you go through this alone?”

His other hand found your waist, his fingers pressing into your hip as though anchoring you to him. His body was impossibly close now, radiating a heat that only seemed to amplify the storm inside you.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” he rasped, his tone more growl than words.

Before you could answer—or even breathe—he leaned in, his lips brushing the curve of your neck. The kiss wasn’t soft; it was open-mouthed, searing, and possessive in a way that left you breathless. He wasn’t holding back anymore. The restraint he’d always shown around you was gone, replaced by something wild and uncontrollable.

His teeth grazed your skin, not enough to hurt but enough to make you tremble beneath him. “You’re mine,” he murmured against your neck, his voice low and rough, like a vow. “No one else gets to see you like this. No one else gets to touch you.”

Yunho pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes burning with an intensity that made your knees weak. “Let me take care of you,” he growled, his fingers tightening their hold on your waist. “Don’t you dare hide this from me again.”

Yunho’s eyes remained locked on yours, his pupils blown wide with a feral hunger that made your breath hitch. The intensity of his gaze was almost too much, but it was impossible to look away. He leaned in, his hand still firm on your waist, pulling you closer until the heat of his body overwhelmed your senses.

His lips captured yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was desperate, messy, and entirely consuming, his mouth moving against yours like he couldn’t get enough. When his teeth caught your bottom lip, biting just hard enough to make you gasp, a low growl rumbled deep in his chest. His nails dug into your waist, not enough to hurt but enough to remind you of the sheer strength he was holding back.

“Bed,” he rasped against your lips, his voice rough and commanding. Before you could even process the word, his hands were on you, guiding you backward. The desk’s edge scraped against your hip for a fleeting moment before his grip tightened, lifting you just enough to move you effortlessly.

You barely registered your back hitting the plush mattress until you felt the weight of his body hovering over you. Yunho’s movements weren’t rough, but they were purposeful, deliberate, as though his instincts had taken full control. His hands roamed your sides, firm and possessive as they found your waist again.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes burning with intensity. His thumb brushed against your cheek, a moment of tenderness that contrasted starkly with the raw hunger in his expression.

“Can I?” he asked, his voice softer now, though the strain in it was evident. His fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt, the tension in his body clear as he awaited your answer.

You swallowed hard, your lips parting slightly as you nodded, shy but certain.

That was all the permission Yunho needed.

His hands moved with urgency, tugging at your shirt as though it offended him. The fabric yielded easily under his grip, and though his movements bordered on aggressive, there was a reverence in the way his fingers ghosted over your skin as he worked. He paused only briefly, his gaze raking over you before his lips were back on your neck, trailing a path of open-mouthed kisses that left you breathless.

The heat pooling in your belly intensified as his hands slipped lower, brushing the waistband of your shorts. His touch was firm, unyielding, and it sent sparks through every nerve in your body.

A sudden thought flared in your mind, unbidden but vivid. You remembered the time you and Yunho had taken a shower together, an innocent moment that had left you more flustered than you cared to admit. You hadn’t been able to stop your gaze from wandering, and what you’d seen had stayed with you ever since. He was… packing, to put it mildly.

The memory alone was enough to make you press your thighs together, your body betraying the heat swirling inside you. Yunho noticed instantly. His eyes darkened further, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as though he could read your thoughts.

“You’re thinking about something,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. His lips brushed against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Something that’s turning you on even more, isn’t it?”

You tried to shake your head, but Yunho wasn’t having it. His hand slid down to your thigh, gently coaxing it apart as his nails grazed your skin. The possessiveness in his touch was unmistakable, and it only made the ache in your core worse.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice rough with want. “And I’m going to make sure you never forget it.”

Yunho’s lips didn’t relent, dragging hot, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your neck, his teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp. His hands gripped your waist firmly, fingers digging into your skin as though anchoring himself. You could feel the possessiveness radiating from him, the way his touch claimed every inch of you.

“Mine,” he growled softly against your neck, the word vibrating against your skin before his teeth sank gently into the sensitive spot just below your jaw. The sensation sent a wave of dizziness washing over you, the heat pooling low in your belly becoming nearly unbearable.

Your hands moved instinctively, tangling in his dark hair as his lips continued their path downward. He seemed to revel in the way you clung to him, his low growl vibrating against your skin as his mouth traveled to your collarbone. He didn’t hesitate, leaving marks in his wake—small, dark bruises that bloomed on your skin like a map of his devotion.

“Yunho,” you whispered, your voice shaky and breathless as your body arched into his touch.

“Shh,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. His lips pressed to the curve of your shoulder before trailing lower. “Let me take care of you.”

Every kiss, every bite, every graze of his teeth left you reeling. His lips found the swell of your chest, your nipples hard, pressing kisses that were as reverent as they were feral. When his mouth closed over them, you couldn’t help the soft sound that escaped you, your head falling back against the bed as your body melted beneath him.

“You’re so perfect,” he rasped, his voice thick with need. His hands moved to your sides, holding you steady as his lips continued their descent. He kissed along the curve of your ribs, his teeth scraping lightly against your skin just enough to leave a tingle in their wake.

By the time his mouth reached your belly, you were dizzy, your mind fogged with the overwhelming sensations flooding your body. His tongue traced the sensitive dip of your navel before his teeth grazed just above it, and your fingers tightened in his hair, tugging softly in response.

Yunho groaned at your touch, the sound sending another jolt of heat through you. His lips continued their path lower, pressing kisses to the soft skin of your hips before finding the tender flesh of your inner thigh.

He paused for a moment, his breath ghosting over your skin as he looked up at you. The sight of him—his dark, feral eyes gazing at you from between your thighs, his lips slightly swollen and marked with your taste—made your breath hitch.

“You look so beautiful like this,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, almost a growl. His hands slid to your thighs, gripping them firmly before pulling you closer with a single, powerful motion.

Before you could process the movement, his mouth was working its way on your folds, his lips pressing against you with a hunger that left no room for hesitation. The sudden intensity of it made you gasp, your head falling back as the heat in your belly surged, consuming you completely.

Yunho didn’t hold back. His mouth moved with precision and fervor, his tongue working against your sensitive flesh in ways that left you gasping. Each stroke was deliberate, calculated, his lips and tongue dragging over every nerve ending until your entire body trembled beneath him. His hands gripped your thighs, firm enough to keep you open for him, his nails pressing into your skin as though daring you to move.

The sounds leaving you were unrestrained, soft moans mixed with whimpers that only seemed to spur him on. He groaned against you, the vibration sending a shockwave through your body that made your legs shake.

“Yunho—” you managed to gasp, your fingers tangling deeper into his hair, pulling just enough to draw another low growl from him. The way his tongue teased and circled your clit, the sheer intensity of his focus, had you spiraling.

“That’s it,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough and possessive. “Let me hear you.”

The coil in your belly tightened with every flick of his tongue, every gentle scrape of his teeth. Your legs trembled uncontrollably, the heat spreading through your entire body as your breaths grew shallow. You couldn’t think, couldn’t focus on anything except the relentless pleasure he was giving you.

When you finally reached your high, it hit you like a wave, crashing over you in a blinding surge of heat and sensation. Your body arched, your hands clutching at Yunho as soft cries spilled from your lips. He didn’t stop, his tongue coaxing you through every second of your orgasm until you were trembling from the overstimulation, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“Good girl,” Yunho rasped, his voice laced with satisfaction as he finally pulled back, his lips glistening. He pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, a smirk playing at the edges of his mouth. “You’re so beautiful like this.”

He stood, towering over you as his hands moved to the hem of his shirt. His muscles flexed as he pulled it over his head, tossing it aside without care. The golden light from the room caught the lines of his chest and shoulders, every movement accentuating the raw strength in his form.

You couldn’t help but stare as he reached for the waistband of his pants, his fingers deftly undoing the button before sliding them down. He was stunning, every inch of him commanding your attention.

Yunho’s eyes darkened as he caught you looking, his smirk widening. “See something you like?” he teased, though the heat in his gaze left no room for denial.

He climbed onto the bed with an ease that belied his size, his hands finding your waist again as he pulled you up into his lap. The shift was sudden, and you let out a soft gasp as he positioned you effortlessly. His knees rested on the mattress, and he held you securely, your legs draped on either side of his hips.

You realized the mirror was directly in front of you now, its reflective surface catching every detail of the moment. Yunho’s grip shifted, one hand sliding beneath your knees as the other found your chin, tilting your face toward the mirror.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice a mix of awe and command. “So beautiful. So perfect.”

Your cheeks flushed as you caught your reflection. The sight of yourself, completely exposed in his lap, was almost too much. You tried to avert your gaze, but Yunho’s fingers on your chin held firm, gently pulling you back.

“Don’t look away,” he said, his tone soft but unyielding. “I want you to see how stunning you are. I want you to see what I see.”

His hands shifted again, his fingers gripping beneath your knees to spread you open further. The action made you gasp, the vulnerability of the position sending a fresh wave of heat through your body.

“You’re mine,” Yunho said, his voice low and reverent as he held you in place. “Every inch of you is mine.”

His lips brushed against your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “And I’m going to make sure you never forget it.”

Yunho's hands were firm but gentle as he guided you into position, pulling you into his lap. Your back pressed against his chest, and the warmth of his body surrounded you, his presence overwhelming in the best way. His hands moved to your legs, his fingertips sending little shivers through your skin as he positioned you just right. You could feel the heat of him beneath you, his cock brushing over your lower back with each movement. The proximity made your pulse quicken, the sensation of him so close that it nearly drove you wild.

You paused for a moment, your breath shallow, a mix of excitement and nerves flooding you. The overwhelming heat of the situation, the closeness, made your mind dizzy. You reached back, placing your hand on his chest to steady yourself, and your voice trembled as you spoke.

“Yunho,” you whispered, the sound almost a plea.

“Yes, darling?” he stopped everything, looking in the mirror at you.

You hesitated for a moment. “It’s... my first time… c-can you... can you be gentle with me, at first?”

Yunho froze for a moment, his hands stilling under your knees. He could feel the nervousness in your touch, your soft voice carrying the weight of your vulnerability. He leaned forward, pressing a tender kiss to your shoulder, his lips warm and reassuring.

“Of course, baby,” Yunho murmured, his voice steady and soothing. “I’ll take care of you, always.”

You felt his hands shift, adjusting his position beneath you, and he moved with such careful attention. His body was so close that you could feel the heat of him against your back, the pressure building with every slight movement, but he held back, moving only as slowly as you needed. His grip on your legs tightened just enough to give you comfort and security, and you melted into his touch.

With a deep breath, Yunho slowly guided you down, inch by inch. You felt the initial stretch, the unfamiliar sensation, but his slow movements allowed you to adjust, your body beginning to relax into him. The feeling of his chest against your back, of his heat surrounding you, made your body respond, even if it was just from the closeness.

“Good girl,” he whispered, his voice a soothing hum in your ear. “You’re doing so well. Just breathe, take your time.”

You shifted slightly, the soft friction sending tiny jolts of pleasure through you, and Yunho’s body tightened beneath you, a low growl escaping from his throat. He was fighting the urge to move faster, to take you with more force, but he restrained himself, focusing on you.

Slowly, the tension in your body began to ease, the heat in your core building as you adjusted to the feeling of him. You could feel him brushing against your back, his warmth spreading, and every soft touch, every movement, only made you crave more of him.

“You okay?” Yunho asked, his voice filled with concern, though there was a darker edge of hunger just beneath the surface. “Need me to go slower?”

You nodded, your voice barely a whisper as you breathed out, “ I’m okay.”

The slow, steady rhythm continued as Yunho guided you, his hands holding your legs outwards as he effortlessly pulled you up and down on his cock, slowly. You could feel the power in him, the control, but also the tenderness with which he held you, the care in every movement. He was taking his time with you, making sure you were completely comfortable, completely lost in the moment with him.

After a few moments, you felt your body adjusting, the heat growing, and the soft ache turning into something deeper, more intense. You shifted again, this time pressing your back more firmly against his chest, seeking a deeper connection. Yunho immediately noticed the change, his breathing picking up as he responded with a slight shift of his own.

“I think you’re ready for more,” he muttered softly, his voice a mixture of admiration and hunger. “Tell me if I’m right, baby. You want more?”

You nodded shyly, your breath quickening as you felt the weight of his gaze on you. “Yes… please.”

Yunho smiled softly, pressing another kiss to the back of your neck, and without waiting another moment, he began to move with you, slowly, steadily, a little deeper, a little more insistent. The heat inside you began to build with each motion, your body finally responding fully to his touch.

As the moment stretched on, Yunho could feel his control slipping. The slow, steady pace had done its job—it had allowed you to adjust, to relax—but the desire building inside him was too much to bear. He couldn’t stay patient forever, not when the way you moved against him, so delicate and needy, was driving him wild.

With a low, barely contained growl, Yunho suddenly shifted. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you forward with a force that took you by surprise. You gasped as your chest pressed into the soft mattress, your body tilted just enough to feel the change. His hand moved swiftly to the back of your neck, his fingers threading into your hair as he held you in place, his chest pressed against your back.

“May I go rougher?” Yunho’s voice was hoarse, his breath ragged against the back of your neck. “I can’t take it anymore. I need more.”

The words, so full of need, sent a rush of heat through your body. You could feel the raw desire in his voice, and without hesitation, you nodded faintly, unable to speak as your breath caught in your throat.

The moment you gave him that silent permission, Yunho’s pace shifted, becoming more intense. His hands gripped you more firmly as he guided you forward, his movements faster, deeper. Every shift of his body sent sparks through your skin, the heat in your belly intensifying with every thrust. The pressure in your chest built as your body responded to him, the sensual rhythm becoming more urgent, more powerful.

His lips brushed against your shoulder, his breath warm on your skin. “You feel so good,” he murmured, his voice strained, but still soft with reverence. “So perfect for me.”

Each movement sent you spiraling, your body trembling with the force of the connection, with the overwhelming intensity of the moment. Yunho’s hold on you was firm, possessive, yet still filled with the tenderness he couldn’t hide. He was in control, but it was clear that every inch of him was completely consumed by you.

Yunho’s grip in your hair tightened slightly, pulling just enough to send a shiver down your spine. The sensation was electrifying, the sharp contrast between his strength and the reverence in his touch overwhelming. His breath was hot against your neck, his lips brushing over your skin as he whispered, his voice a low growl.

“Look at you, completely perfect,” he murmured, the words laced with possessiveness. His hand on your waist slid lower, his grip firm as he guided your body to move with his. Every shift, every deliberate motion, sent ripples of warmth through your skin, your senses heightened by the intensity of his presence.

“You feel that?” he asked, his voice rough but filled with awe. “That’s all you, baby. You’re driving me insane.”

Your legs trembled as Yunho moved with more purpose, the power behind his actions leaving you breathless. His body fit against yours so completely, every part of him enveloping you as if he was meant to. His hand slipped from your waist to rest on your belly, pulling you even closer against him as he leaned down to kiss the corner of your jaw, his lips moving slowly, savoring every inch of you.

“I want you to let go for me,” he coaxed, his voice softening slightly as his lips moved back to your ear. “Don’t hold back. I want all of you, every sound, every feeling.”

The tension building in your body was unbearable, the heat pooling low in your belly as Yunho continued, his movements growing rougher, more commanding. The way he whispered praise into your ear only added fuel to the fire, each word wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

“You’re incredible,” Yunho groaned, his tone heavy with admiration and something darker, more primal. “I could stay like this forever.”

When the orgasm overtook you again, your body arched instinctively, every nerve alight with sensation. Your fingers gripped the sheets beneath you, the overwhelming release leaving you breathless as soft cries escaped your lips. Yunho didn’t stop, his movements steady and sure as he helped you ride the high. His hold on you tightened, his growls low and guttural as he watched you come undone.

Even as the waves of sensation subsided, Yunho’s pace didn’t falter. His grip on your waist grew stronger, his other hand tangling in your hair once more as he pulled you back slightly to meet him.

“Stay with me,” he growled, his voice rough, his breaths shallow. “I’m not done with you yet.”

His movements became more intense, his need for you taking over as his strength pressed you firmly into place. The sound of his voice, the feeling of his body surrounding you, was too much. You could feel his restraint slipping, the raw hunger in his actions showing through as he drove himself toward his own high, spilling his load inches deep inside you, filling you up good.

When he finally stilled, his breath heavy and ragged against your ear, he buried his face into the crook of your neck. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close as he pressed soft, lingering kisses to your skin.

“You’re amazing,” Yunho whispered, his voice softening, though the roughness from before lingered in the edges. “You’re mine. Always mine.”

With a tender strength, Yunho sat back, lifting you effortlessly into his embrace. Your body felt light against his, completely enveloped in his warmth as he guided you to lean against his chest. His hands moved gently now, tracing slow circles on your waist as he whispered soothing words into your ear.

Tilting your chin upward with his fingers, Yunho made you look into the mirror once more. Your reflection was a testament to the moment—your cheeks flushed, your lips swollen, your hair slightly mussed… body all sweaty and your cunt dripping with both of his and your juices on his thighs. His gaze, dark and full of pride, met yours in the glass as he kissed your temple softly.

“Look at yourself,” he murmured, his voice deep but tender. “Do you see what I see? How beautiful are you?”

Your face heated further, and you tried to look away, but his hand was quick to guide your chin back, holding you steady.

“Don’t shy away,” Yunho said, his voice firm but full of affection. “You’re breathtaking. Perfect. Mine.”

And as he held you there, safe in his embrace, the intensity of the moment melted into a warm stillness. You could feel his heart beating steadily against your back, his lips pressing one final kiss to the crown of your head as he whispered once more, “Always.”

As the intensity ebbed and warmth began to settle over you both, Yunho’s grip on your waist softened slightly, though his presence remained firm and grounding. His breath was still uneven as it fanned against your ear, and his hand shifted to cradle your face gently, his thumb brushing across your flushed cheek.

“You okay, baby?” he murmured, his voice low, rough around the edges but filled with tenderness. His eyes searched yours as his fingers trailed softly down your jawline, grounding you even as the sensations still lingered. “You were so good for me… I need to know you’re feeling alright.”

You nodded faintly, still catching your breath, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m okay… I promise.”

Yunho’s lips twitched into a faint smile, the kind that was just for you, warm and full of pride. “Good,” he said softly, pressing a lingering kiss to the curve of your shoulder. “Because you were perfect. Better than perfect.”

With gentle yet deliberate strength, Yunho guided your body to turn and face him fully, his hands steady on your waist as he pulled you into his chest. His arms wrapped around you tightly, holding you so close it was as if he wanted to shield you from the world. The feeling of his warmth, his steady heartbeat beneath your cheek, made you feel completely secure.

“That was your first rut,” he murmured into your hair, his voice reverent but laced with something darker, the remnants of his earlier feral energy still flickering beneath the surface. “And you handled it like you were made for me.”

His fingers trailed down your spine, his grip firm but soothing, as though he couldn’t stop touching you, couldn’t let go even for a moment. “You have no idea how proud I am of you,” Yunho whispered, his lips brushing against your temple before finding your ear. “You’re mine. Every single part of you, and I’ll never let you forget it.”

The possessiveness in his tone sent another shiver through you, but the tenderness in his embrace made you relax completely. When Yunho pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze was unwavering, dark with adoration and a lingering hunger, though his smile softened the edges.

“You’re incredible,” he said, pressing a final kiss to your forehead before tucking you back into his arms. “Always.”

And in his embrace, the weight of the moment dissolved into something sweeter, safer. Even as your body hummed with the remnants of everything you’d just shared, it was his presence, his unyielding care, that made you feel entirely, utterly his.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @peachy-bell26 @atiny1 @my-atiny-kookie-rkive

[woozinhos]

Love your work! Can we get Seungcheol sitting in the cuck chair watching his girl get plowed by Jeonghan? Watching her pathetically squirm and stare into his eyes while Jeonghan takes her?

ahh of course had to do some research for this YOI learn something new everyday lmao

The three of you were in Seungcheol's bedroom, the atmosphere thick with tension and anticipation.

Seungcheol sat in a chair in the corner, his eyes fixed on the scene before him.

Jeonghan had you pinned beneath him on the bed, his body moving against yours with a slow, deliberate rhythm.

You were making soft, needy sounds, your eyes locked on Seungcheol's face as Jeonghan continued to claim you.

Seungcheol's jaw was clenched, his eyes dark with a mixture of jealousy and desire.

He watched as Jeonghan's hands roamed over your body, his fingers tracing every curve and dip as he moved inside you.

You were trembling beneath Jeonghan, your body reacting to his every touch and movement.

Seungcheol shifted in his chair, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

Jeonghan lifted you up effortlessly, flipping you onto your hands and knees.

You let out a gasp as he positioned you so that you were facing Seungcheol, your body on full display for him to see.

Seungcheol's eyes widened, his gaze raking over your exposed form hungrily.

Jeonghan took his time, sliding into you from behind with a slow, deliberate motion.

You let out a soft moan as he filled you completely, your back arching as he started to move.

Seungcheol's breath hitched, his eyes fixed on the sight of you taking Jeonghan so willingly.

Jeonghan set a punishing pace, his hips snapping against yours with each thrust.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by your gasps and moans.

Seungcheol's knuckles were white from gripping the arms of the chair so tightly, his body tense with a mixture of frustration and arousal.

Your eyes locked with Seungcheol's as Jeonghan continued to take you from behind, your body rocking with each powerful thrust.

Seungcheol's expression was a mix of anger and need, his eyes dark and intense as he watched you unravel under Jeonghan's touch.

He wanted nothing more than to be the one making you whimper like that, to be the one claiming you as his own.

Jeonghan leaned over you, his chest pressed against your back as he drove into you.

His breath was hot against your ear as he whispered, "Look at him. Look at how much he wants you."

Seungcheol's eyes never left yours, his gaze burning with a possessive hunger that made your stomach flutter.

You could see the frustration and jealousy in Seungcheol's eyes, but there was also something else there - a hint of longing and desire that made your heart race.

Jeonghan's hands gripped your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your skin as he continued to pound into you relentlessly.

"He wishes he was the one doing this to you," Jeonghan growled, his voice low and husky. "He wishes he was the one making you feel this good."

Seungcheol's eyes flashed with something almost feral as he watched you whimper and squirm under Jeonghan's touch.

He could see the pleasure etched on your face, the way your body responded to every move Jeonghan made.

It was torture for him to sit there and watch, knowing that he couldn't be the one touching you, making you fall apart like that.

"S-seungcheol..."

Your voice was shaky and broken, the words barely more than a whimper.

Seungcheol's eyes widened at the sound of his name on your lips, his body tensing even further.

Jeonghan chuckled darkly, his pace slowing slightly.

"Looks like you're enjoying this a little too much," he teased, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Making him watch while I take you apart."

Seungcheol's voice was low and rough, laced with barely restrained desire.

"Damn it, Jeonghan..."

He gritted his teeth, his hands clenching into fists once again.

Jeonghan smirked, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on both of you.

"What's the matter, Seungcheol?" he taunted, his hips rolling lazily against yours. "Jealous?"

Jeonghan chuckled again, clearly relishing in the sound of your moans.

He picked up the pace once more, driving into you with renewed vigor as he sought to draw more of those delicious sounds from you.

Your moans filled the room, growing louder and more desperate with each thrust.

Seungcheol was practically trembling in his seat, his eyes dark with lust as he watched you come undone under Jeonghan's touch.

Jeonghan leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke.

"You're close, aren't you?" he murmured, his voice low and seductive. "I can feel it. You're so tight around me."

Your body trembled as you nodded, unable to form coherent words anymore.

Jeonghan's hand snaked around your waist, his fingers finding your clit and starting to circle it in tight, precise circles.

"Please... please..."

The words came out in a desperate, needy whine as you arched your back, seeking more of his touch.

Jeonghan's grip on your hips tightened, his movements becoming more erratic as he neared his own release.

"I'm gonna cum," he growled, his voice rough with pleasure. "And you're going to take it all, aren't you?"

Seungcheol's smirk widened as he watched you look at him, his eyes burning with a possessive intensity.

He knew you were close to the edge, and he knew that Jeonghan was going to make you fall apart any second now.

Jeonghan's body tensed against yours, his muscles going taut as he drove into you one last time.

He let out a low groan, his head falling forward as he came, spilling himself deep inside you.

You could feel the warmth of his release filling you, the sensation pushing you even closer to your own climax.

Jeonghan held you tightly against him, his chest heaving as he came down from his high.

You were so close now, your body quivering with the need for release.

Jeonghan's fingers continued to circle your clit, his movements more deliberate now as he tried to bring you to your peak.

You let out a cry as you finally reached your climax, your body convulsing with pleasure as waves of ecstasy washed over you.

Jeonghan held you tightly, his lips brushing against your shoulder as he rode out your orgasm with you.

As the last tremors of pleasure subsided, you collapsed against Jeonghan, completely spent.

He held you close, his arms wrapping around you protectively as he pressed gentle kisses to your hair.

Seungcheol smiled back at you, a look of pure adoration on his face.

He was clearly pleased with the show you had put on for him, his eyes roaming over your body hungrily.

As you caught your breath, Jeonghan slowly pulled out of you, leaving you feeling empty and sensitive.

He held you against him for a moment longer before gently lifting you up and carrying you over to the couch where Seungcheol was seated.

Jeonghan placed you down on Seungcheol's lap, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Seungcheol immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close against his chest as he nuzzled his face into your neck.

"You were so good for us, baby," he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin. "So beautiful when you come undone like that."

Jeonghan sat down beside you and Seungcheol, his eyes still raking over your body with obvious interest.

"You're a mess," he teased, reaching out to run a finger through the mixture of his cum and yours that was slowly dripping out of you.

You let out a small whimper as Jeonghan's finger teased your sensitive skin, your body still oversensitive from your orgasm.

Seungcheol's arms tightened around you, holding you still as Jeonghan continued to play with you.

Jeonghan chuckled, clearly enjoying your reactions.

"Look at you," he said, his voice low and husky. "So desperate and needy. You want more, don't you?"

Seungcheol nipped at your earlobe, his hands roaming over your body possessively.

"She always wants more," he growled, his lips moving to your neck. "She's insatiable."

You were completely at their mercy now, trapped between the two of them as they looked at you with a mixture of lust and amusement.

Their smirks only served to make you feel even more vulnerable, their gazes sending shivers down your spine

[pinkslipxox]

Morning Bliss:

Summary: Billie is super affectionate to you after a night of passion ❤️🙈

Warnings: fluffy Billie 💋🤭🥰

——————————————————————————

The morning sun streamed through the curtains of Billie’s bedroom, casting a warm, golden hue across the cozy space. The air was filled with a lingering sense of intimacy and love, remnants of the passionate night they had shared. Billie lay in bed, her raven black hair fanned out on the pillows, a content smile gracing her lips as she felt the soft weight of her girlfriend, Y/N, nestled against her side.

Y/N stirred awake, her eyes fluttering open to find Billie watching her with adoration. As their gazes met, Y/N felt her heart swell, and a smile broke across her face.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” she teased softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Good morning, mama,” Billie replied, her voice low and silky, filled with affection. Without hesitation, Billie leaned in closer, capturing Y/N’s lips in a lingering kiss that sent a shiver of joy through her. Their connection was electric, a bond that felt both profound and effortless.

As the kiss deepened, Y/N melted against Billie, savoring the warmth of her girlfriend's body. Billie’s hands roamed gently, caressing Y/N’s waist with a tenderness that left her breathless. “Last night was incredible,” Billie murmured against Y/N’s lips, her green eyes sparkling with mischief and love.

“You were amazing,” Y/N replied, her cheeks flushing with warmth. The memory of their passionate night together lingered in the air around them, wrapping them in a blissful cocoon of affection.

In a playful mood, Billie tilted her head and began to plant soft kisses along Y/N’s neck, teasingly nipping at her skin. Y/N giggled at the sensation, her entire body alive with the intimacy of the moment. “Billie, that tickles!” she squealed, squirming playfully.

“Tickles in the best way,” Billie shot back, her lips curling into a cheeky grin as she continued her gentle assault, peppering kisses from Y/N's collarbone up to her jawline. “You’re just so perfect, I can’t help myself.”

Y/N felt her heart flutter at the way Billie adored her, each kiss and touch making her feel cherished. The room was filled with a warm ambiance, a safe harbor where they could be completely themselves. Billie pulled back just enough to look into Y/N’s eyes, her expression soft and full of affection.

“You know you’re my favorite person, right?” she whispered, her voice dripping with sincerity.

“Always,” Y/N replied, her voice softening as she leaned in for another kiss, this one more tender, full of the love they shared. It tasted like sweetness, like everything they had built together.

Billie then shifted her focus, gently kissing down Y/N’s body, trailing soft, feather-light kisses across her collarbone and down towards her breasts. Every touch was delicate, imbued with a sense of reverence that made Y/N gasp softly, her skin prickling with goosebumps.

“Billie…” she breathed, overwhelmed with affection and warmth. The way Billie looked at her, with those vibrant eyes full of love and admiration, made Y/N feel like the only person in the world. “You’re too much.”

“Just for you, baby,” Billie replied with a soft chuckle, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper as she nuzzled into Y/N’s softness, relishing in their intimacy. “My sweet girl.”

Y/N ran her fingers through Billie’s hair, lost in the bliss of the moment. She adored how Billie could switch effortlessly from playful to gentle, always knowing just how to make her feel cherished. “You’re so soft, Billie,” Y/N murmured, her voice laced with affection.

“And you’re my reason for everything,” Billie said, looking up at her, sincerity glowing in her emerald eyes.

As they cuddled closer, enveloped in the warmth of their love, they shared soft kisses, each one more intimate than the last. The world outside faded away, and in that moment, they were simply Billie and Y/N—two souls in love, lost in their own paradise.

“I love you so much,” Y/N whispered, pressing her forehead against Billie’s, their breaths mingling together in a blissful harmony.

“I love you more, mama,” Billie replied, wrapping her arms tightly around Y/N, pulling her even closer. Together, they laid there, hearts intertwined, ready to face whatever the day might bring—together, united by an unbreakable bond and an ocean of love.