#I'm tired out of my mind so i hope this makes sense lol

[stealerofthe2ndbraincell]

There's an aspect of Original!Elias Bouchard that makes me so sad to think about in a weird kind of "meta" way.

And that's the fact that he has to be labelled as the "OG" not as Elias.

Technically speaking Elias has been dead for years. It's Jonah that's taken over - literally having his eyes removed and replacing them with his own and living as him (he even seemingly keeps his "old fashioned haircut" on Elias' hair).

And yet we as the audience don't often call that form of Jonah "JONAH". Instead it's Elias, cause he's been Elias for 4 series at this point.

"Elias started the apocalypse", "Elias beat that old man to death with a metal pipe" when it was never really Elias in the first place.

He's been so robbed of his own identity that not even death can spare him; all of Jonah's actions in his body are recognised as him.

(Btw this isn't me saying you can't call Jonah!Elias straight up Elias, I do that regularly ofc. I'm just being emo rn lol)

[tinystarbites]

accidents pt. II | Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: during a long case away, Spencer accidentally sees Reader's nudes on her phone and can't cope because he is a MESS for reader whoops pt.II The Reckoning /j, this is basically just 10k words of porn with feelings yikes

Warnings: SMUT MDNI, 18+ only, fem!reader, fluff, some angst (still Spencer feeling he isn't good enough 😔), EMOTIONSSS, Spencer STILL loves you so much, he gets a hug, and so much more!, talk about sex, detailed asking for CONSENT (be safe people), sex (piv), some frottage, uhhh what else, dirty talk, some dom/sub understones (sub!Spencer ofc), little bit allusion to subspace, Spencer discovers so many kinks in this awww we're so proud of you bby (mentioned kinks: praise kink, squint of liking being embarrassed, tiiny bit of a voyeristic thing), also I made him a virgin whoops so virgin!Spencer, proofread but prolly not perfect lol. Tell me if I'm missing any tags I am so tired

(also, Spencer will be bisexual in all of my Spencer fics because I am not a coward like the writers were and I will honour Spencer the way he was intended to)

HERE you can read pt. I, I do recommend it to have context and all but do whatever you want lmao I'm not your mother anyway have fun being completely wrecked like I was while writing this!! also thanks so so MUCH for 400 followers and almost 2k likes on the first part, you guys are the best and I hope you enjoy this fic as a thanks!!<333

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Spencer’s never sprung from his bed faster in his life before.

His heart is a jackhammer in his chest, chipping away at his ribs one bone splitter at a time because-

It’s you. In front of his door. And Spencer is so hard it hurts but- he can’t just-

“Spencer?”

He sucks in a haggard breath, hands reaching up and messing up his hair even more. His thoughts are everywhere and nowhere at once and he just needs to- needs just a moment to-

“Uh, yeah, just a second!”, he calls back, voice scratchy and used from the- the moaning Jesus Christ because he was about to come with your mental image and he somehow, magically, managed to apparently conjure you up in front of his door with his pathetic pining and oh god-

He has to- ugh- has to wash his hands and make it go away and –

“Okay, I’ll just…chill with that weird plant here.”

An overwhelmed whimper slips past his lips and he just, stands there for at least another five seconds before something in his mind snaps back into place and he rushes to the small, adjacent bathroom of his room.

After he thoroughly washed his hands, his erection has flagged off enough so that it’s not the first thing greeting you when he opens the door and thank god for that.

And oh- seeing you after doing that actually knocks the wind out of his lungs because you are just so goddamn lovely it makes Spencer want to do stupid, stupid things like cry or kiss you or spontaneously combust into a million pieces.

For once, he does something okay-ishly sensible though.

“Hi.”

You look at him, one eyebrow raised in amusement or scepticism, he doesn’t know for sure. Your eyes hold mirthful sparkles in them when he finally manages to meet your gaze, so he settles for the former of the two options.

You’re not wearing your work clothes anymore. Rather, you went for a cozy looking, oversized sweater and funkily patterned leggings. Your fashion sense outside of work always reminded Spencer of Penelope’s.

“Hi to yourself”, you chuckle, “Can I come in or are you too busy reading ten books at once?”

Spencer feels himself flush under your gentle teasing.

“Only seven books. But, yes, of course you can come in.”

He turns out of the way, creating room for you to pass him into his room. As soon as you are inside, you don’t hesitate to jump onto his bed and flop on your back with your arms spread wide.

Spencer’s breath hitches and he has to do some very extensive mental gymnastics to supress all the inappropriate thoughts from escaping the box he banished them into. Controlling his body’s response to seeing you in the same bed he was just jacking off in is… a different story. He pulls down the hem of his shirt as discreetly as possible, as he takes a seat next to you. Making sure that there is not too much distance between you two as to raise any suspicion and make it obvious he’s trying to get some distance between you, but also enough space so that he isn’t enticed to do anything unwise. Like, reach out and feel your warmth underneath his fingers. Or the softness of your skin. Or anything else really.

The more seconds tick by in which neither of you say anything, the more nervous Spencer becomes. He starts fiddling around with his fingers, aborting more than one move to steal a glance at your face to see what you’re thinking.

“Spencer”, you then finally say, voice kind of pout-y and if that didn’t make Spencer whip his head around to face you, the next thing you say for sure does. “Do you hate me?”

“Wha-“, he sputters your name, “No- no! Of course, I don’t- whe- why would you think that?”

You let out an exasperated groan, moving around until you are lying on your side, head propped up on your arm and frowning up at him. “Because you’ve been acting hella weird these last few days and you won’t tell me whyyyy”, you drag out the last syllable, pout on your lips and Spencer has to look up at the ceiling or else he’s just going to confess everything without second thought and that will definitely not happen.

“I haven’t been acting weird, really, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You remain silent again and Spencer feels the judging glare you send his way without having to look at you. Yes, he has been acting weird, he knows that, but you can never ever know the reason why tha-

“Is it because you saw my nudes?”

Spencer almost breaks his neck with how fast he whips his head down to look at you again. A strangled noise escapes him without permission and what. What.

“Because, that would actually explain so much, especially the way you’ve been acting and really, that’s probably on me because I’ve always been telling myself to put them behind a password block but I somehow always manage to forget that because apparently I have only one braincell left that’s stuck spinning on the deep-fried version of Funky Town and well, I guess I’m glad it was you that found them and not someone else and-“

“What? No, no, I didn’t- What- that’s not- what-“, Spencer cuts off your rambling with a horrified, screeched version of a protest because how- how could you have guessed what’s going on with just one try? Is Spencer so- so absolutely besotted with you that he’s so obvious? Spencer is so very confused and overwhelmed with whatever the hell is going on, he kind of misses the slight twitching of your mouth.

“Come on, Spencer. I said it’s fine and basically my own fault. Uh- well, actually… sorry. Because, well, that’s probably not very work-appropriate… I will pay for your therapy session, just send me the bill.”

Spencer thought he’d reached the limits of confusion seconds ago but apparently, he hadn’t. What. What are you even saying?

“Therapy sessions?”

You just- ignore him.

“Oh, also, please don’t tell Hotch? He’ll be pissed, despite me literally just doing hot-girl shit, y’know-“

Oh, Spencer cannot take it anymore.

He says your name and, “Stop, please, please, just-“

You snap your mouth shut, pulling your lips between your teeth and Spencer definitely doesn’t miss the way you have to force your mouth to stay still this time.

“Are you- is this a joke?”, Spencer asks, frazzled and desperate and so confused he just wants to bury his head under the duvet and never come out again. Because if you don’t actually know but- are just joking around, oh Spencer is overwhelmed, alright.

Your expression changes into something panicked then. “No, no, Spencer, sorry. I’m- sorry. Of course I’m not joking, I’m so sorry. It’s just a little bit too easy to tease you. Sorry.” You actually look apologetic now, lips downturned and frowning slightly.

“Not joking- so… so, you know?”, there’s something big and anxious pressing inside of Spencer’s chest. The urge to hide away and never face daylight again intensifies tenfold. He’s flushing before he realizes, hands trembling and breathing a bit too fast to be considered normal. Oh god, you know, you actually know, you’re going to- you’re never going to speak with him again you are probably here to tell him how weird and- and-

You must’ve noticed the frenzy he is thinking himself into, because you reach out with one hand and gently nudge his thigh with one knuckle. “Spencer”, you say, voice serious and steady and not the slightest bit disgusted or harsh and it snaps him out of his anxiety spiral.

“I knew the second I walked back into that room after you basically fled the precinct. I am, really, genuinely, sorry for making you uncomfortable. Like, it wasn’t actually my intention for you to see them. And then, after I realized what… I just wanted to wait and see what you’d do, if you came to talk to me or, well…”

You sigh, the hand that nudged him ruffling through your hair.

“I didn’t handle this situation very well. I’m really sorry. So… “, you trail off, scrunching your nose in that adorable way of yours that makes Spencer want to kiss it until it scrunches even further because you’d laugh and try to fight him off.

“We can just- forget about this. Forget that it ever happened, or-“, you hesitate again.

Spencer feels suddenly breathless. Like he stands in front of a cliff face, seconds before taking the step to send himself careening towards something immeasurably great or devastatingly fatal.

“Or…?”, he breathes, voice small and unsure.

You meet his eyes again after what feels like hours. There’s something intense in them, burning, and it’s like an electric shock to Spencer’s system. He’d give anything for you to keep looking at him like that forever.

“Or”, your hand returns to his thigh, but this time you let your fingers travel along the shape of it and Spencer whimpers. The burning in your eyes intensifies and Spencer feels hot, suddenly, so hot he’s burning with it. “Or we can do something else.”

“Something else?”, Spencer basically croaks because his throat is so dry and it’s difficult for his body to function properly when you are touching him like that.

You hum in agreement. “Whatever you want. You can tell m-“

“You.”

You look a bit startled when he cuts you off with that one, desperate syllable. Startled but also endlessly amused and Spencer just- his mind is apparently turned off, what the-

You laugh quietly, and your eyes soften, and it does something to Spencer that leaves an ach-y feeling in his chest. Oh, he loves you so much he can’t take it.

“Sure. You can have me”, you say simply, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world for you to admit, “Tell me what exactly you want, because I’d give you the world if you asked.”

And suddenly there’s hot pressure behind Spencer’s eyes, at the back of his throat. You’re just- just- amazing and so lovely and so kind to him, no one has ever said something like that to him, he doesn’t know how to handle it.

Spencer blinks up to the ceiling, desperately willing these stupid unwelcome tears away because crying about you treating him kindly is so on the bottom of the list of acting casual about this, so he rather feels than sees you sitting up next to him. Your hand slips from his legs and he feels the loss of your touch as if someone sucked the marrow from his bones. Before he can say something embarrassing like ‘please touch me again’ he feels your hand covering his. It fills him with a heady kind of courage.

“I want…”, Spencer starts, feeling entirely too uncomfortable with having to state his deepest and darkest desires. There’s the old familiar urge to start picking at his nails nagging at him, but you just interlace your fingers with his and start tracing random patterns into the skin there with your thumb. Spencer melts against you and tenses up at the same time because it’s just so- so nice. It feels so nice and Spencer never thought he’d ever get to have things like that with you but you’re here. You’re here, with him, and basically offering Spencer the entire world on a silver platter but it’s still so so unfathomably difficult just saying what he so badly wants.

“You want…?”, you hum slightly, voice soft and so tender as you continue painting patterns on his skin and Spencer would literally die for you. And that’s the entire problem. Spencer doesn’t know if you’d do the same. Well. Maybe not die die for him but. He can’t just sleep with you, and it not meaning anything to you. It would kill him. It would kill him, if after you give him tenderness and pleasure and acceptance in a way he’s never dreamed of receiving, you would go back to normal. Always politely distanced, close, but never close enough and it already twists his chest just thinking of that possibility.

“I just-“, he tries again, but when the words are stuck in his throat, sticky molten sugar that tastes like bile and fear, he pulls out of your grip and buries his face in his hands. He’s so bad at this. He’s the worst. No wonder he’s never had- had something like Morgan has, one night stand after one night stand (not that he particularly wants that, god no, but just-) because Spencer is just so bad at spilling all of the things that plague his gut and keep his thoughts in overdrive at night. No wonder he’s never even had a girlfriend or boyfriend before.

“Hey, hey, Spencer”, he feels your hands cupping his own, still over his face. Not taking them away, but just – there. “It’s alright, penguin, we can always come back to this another time. I’ll wait.”

Spencer’s face crumples and his breath hitches a little because- penguin. That’s the frankly ridiculous nickname you’ve been using for him ever since he apparently once looked like one, with that white scarf and knee-length black coat he wore during one of your cases where a blizzard surprised not only the team, but also the unsub. Spencer, like most of you, wasn’t prepared and thus, had to make do with what the helpful officers provided them with. And well, Spencer drew the penguin stick it seemed.

It’s ridiculous but sweet and it always makes him feel so loved, loved by you, because it’s adorable and theirs and he just loves it irrationally much, okay? And also, penguins are just really fascinating because-

“Did you know that most penguins live monogamously? The Emperor penguin is actually one of the only ones that mate seasonally, they only have one mate per breeding season. But most others have a mate for life, like, like swans and bald eagles.”

Before Spencer even opened his mouth, he was aware of the fact he was going to ramble on about some unimportant stuff. It’s always like this, it always feels like a breath he’s been holding in for too long, like an itch somewhere in his weird brain that only stops when he opens his mouth and infodumps and he cannot stop it. No matter how consciously he is telling himself to cut it out or screaming at himself to shut the fuck up you weirdo, it’s unavoidable. As soon as his brain latches onto a statistic or a fact it is reminded of, it’s an unstoppable force.

Like now. He is kicking himself. Why, oh why can’t he ever be normal? He feels himself flushing bright red from embarrassment and shame and frustration. He can’t believe he is rambling about birds while- while whatever the hell you two are doing right now. While in the middle of a conversation that started out with you confronting him about him seeing your nudes, jesus christ.

Spencer is about to suffocate himself with a pillow when you let out a graceless snort.

It confuses Spencer so much he lowers his hands to look at you and- oh.

Your eyes are shining with something that looks so close to what he would call affection, and it makes him want to bawl his eyes out and at the same time, smile so hard there’ll be laugh lines on his cheeks for the rest of the week.

“Well, that fits perfectly then”, you say, and Spencer doesn’t understand.

“What do you mean?”

You smile just a little wider, a little more teasingly but in a nice way, in a kind way and it leaves Spencer’s chest blooming with warmth.

“If you’re my penguin, I’ll be your penguin.”

Youryouryouryouryour-

Spencer feels entirely braindead. Only the fact that you called him yours registers. Because yes. Yes. Spencer is so yours he’d gladly let you make every decision for him from now on in his life and yes. That’s not exactly a very normal thing to think. Or to want. Spencer doesn’t care. He’s never felt normal about you for a day in his life and he definitely won’t start now.

“You- you mean- like, as, as mates?”

You scrunch your nose in disgust. “If you want to call us that, I think I’ll take back my offer.”

It punches a giggle out of Spencer, sudden and kind of light-headed. He watches your face break into a wide grin.

“But you- you’d like that?” You’d like me?

You pull a face, sniffing in a nonchalant way, direct your face to your nails in fake disinterest.

“Sure. Whatever.”

And Spencer can’t help himself. He sobs out a laugh- laughs out a sob or, whatever that weird noise he makes is, because you’re so ridiculous and he loves you more than anything in the world.

You roll your eyes, fondly, shake your head slightly.

“Of course, Spencer. I’d like that very much because I like you a very unnormal amount. Literally. On my knees, crying, screaming etcetera”, you say just like that, smiling just like that.

Spencer feels like he’s dreaming. He must be. There’s no other explanation for it. He just can’t wrap his head around the fact that you could like him. You. You’re so, so lovely and amazing and you deserve everything good in this world and Spencer is just. Spencer.

“You- you like me? Me?”, Spencer can’t hide the incredulous tone that seeps into his questions because you like him?

There’s no traces of humour in your eyes anymore. Your eyes look painfully honest, face suddenly serious, and it steals Spencer’s breath away.

You lean closer to him again, grabbing his hands with yours. Your gaze bores itself into his, intense and steady and he can’t look away. “Spencer. I know it’s- I know life has been hard on you for way too long. And that leaves its marks on you. That’s fine. It’s human. But. You do not deserve any less love because of that, do you understand me? Of course I like you, what isn’t there to like? You’re kind and funny and sweet and just so- Spencer. You’re so lovable and it kills me to know that you don’t see how you are so worthy of being loved.”

Oh.

Oh.

You can’t just- can’t just say things like that and expect him to not cry a little. Can’t expect him to act completely nonchalant and cool about all of this when you say things like that to him. Are you trying to kill him? Because it sure does feel like that.

Spencer is so completely at a loss. He doesn’t know what to say to that- not to mention what to do. How do you always do this? How can you see straight to the hidden, bruised core of him, littered with all these ugly and bad things and. Just. Figure out what to say to strike him exactly there.

It should scare him, being known so deeply. It should, but it doesn’t because it’s you. You are warmth and acceptance like his favourite place in front of a fireplace, book in hand and rain gently knocking against windows. You are quiet mornings at work, you are soft rays of sunlight in his hair, you are gentle hands helping you up when you fall and bruise your knees. You are –

A touch to his cheek startles him. He opens his eyes – when did he close them? – to your fingers brushing some stray tears away, so softly as if he’s something precious, something to be held delicately. That thought sends new tears spilling down his cheek. He can’t believe this is affecting him so much, so completely he simultaneously feels like he is going to shatter and be stitched back together again.

He never knew he needed this so much.

“Sorry for making you cry, penguin. I didn’t think this discussion about my lack of nude etiquette would get this emotionally damaging”, you say, voice hushed in the big silence of the room, a small smile on your lips and eyes so kind.

Spencer snorts, despite himself. This has really been a very bizarre evening. He feels almost drunk on the weirdness of it all, on the rollercoaster that his emotions have ridden all evening. That’s probably why he does what he does next.  

“Neither did I, especially after you interrupted me while I wa-“

Spencer shuts his mouth so fast he clicks his teeth together, eyes wide and suddenly horrified. He- what-

Why?

Why can’t Spencer ever keep his big mouth shut? Is he completely and utterly insane?

There’re alarm bells going off somewhere in Spencer’s head and a concerning warmth settling deep in his stomach when your grin takes on a slightly devilish edge, one he knows all too well and. And. Oh. He’s in trouble. So much trouble. Why did he have to say that?

“After I interrupted you while?”, you prompt him, eyes electric and hot and oh god-

Spencer is so dumb. An idiot. Of the highest order. High IQ, where?

“Nothing”, he says, voice high-pitched and rushed and he curses himself and his ability to act everything else but nonchalant. He’d be the worst actor of all time.

“Spencer.”

The tone of your voice rearranges something in his neurons. He can feel himself sit up just that little bit straighter, can feel his mind buzz at the edges. He’s never felt like this before.

He loves it.

“Hmm?”, is all he gets out. Trouble, so much trouble.

Suddenly you’re standing up, away from him and Spencer wants to whine because you should stay there next to him, forever fixed to his side. He doesn’t have to despair long, because you take one of your knees and gently nudge his legs apart with it and okay. Okay. That definitely didn’t just send Spencer’s mind reeling. That wasn’t just totally the hottest thing that ever happened to him.

You slot yourself between his legs as if you own that space and. In his humble opinion, you do. You so do. Spencer is willing to give you a map of his entire body and a marker and tell you to please demarcate every part of him you want. He’d give it to you, no questions asked.

He is looking up at you, at your burning eyes that still hold something so soft in them that makes the lump in his throat bigger again. And by god, Spencer just needs to hear you say it again-

“You like me?”

You move closer to him, lifting one hand and placing it underneath his chin. Your thumb traces along his jaw and Spencer feels like he is going to burst into a million embarrassed pieces.

“Yes”, you say simply, but the way you say it. Spencer can’t help but shiver and exhale shakily. He feels so warm, everywhere. His skin burns where your fingers are touching him. He never wants this to stop.

“You- You want me?”

Your hand grips his face a little stronger, your other fingers splaying over and down his throat and there’s a high noise coming from somewhere and there’s goosebumps on his body everywhere and oh, wait- it’s him. The noise. Well, how embarrassing but. He doesn’t care. Nope. Not at all.

…Okay maybe a little. His face feels warm, suddenly, warmer than the rest of him and yes. He’s blushing, okay?

“Spencer”, the way you say his name it- god, “I want you. I said it before, but. I will give you anything. Tell me what you want, Spencer, and you will get it from me.”

Your eyes are so dark and your voice so low and Spencer actually whines and. He’s hard again, so hard, because he didn’t come before and now, he’s even more pent-up and his thoughts are a mess, but you haven’t even touched him more than this and he’s already so worked up from you just saying these things to him-

“I want you”, Spencer pants, currently finding no other English words in the dictionary of his mind. And well. Emily was right about him. IQ slashed to zero when pretty person do thing.

He watches you take a deep breath, as if to steady yourself, as if this whole thing is affecting you as much as it affects him but that’s- ridiculous. Impossible. Because. Have you seen yourself?

“I know that, Spencer. But what do you want from me? Do you want me to kiss you?”, you ask, face suddenly so close to his Spencer feels your breath fan over his skin, and he whimpers because yes he wants that wants that- “Do you want me to touch you more?”, your other hand grabs his side, gentle but just a little bit roughly and Spencer is suddenly vividly reminded of the fact how strong you are and he feels kind of lightheaded-

“Do you want me to fuck you, Spencer?”

Spencer is going to pass out. And die. And moan and say, “Please yes yes yes”. Maybe not in that particular order.

“Okay, angel, anything you want”, you say, smiling softly at him as if he’s the best thing in the world and angel. Angel. Angel.

Before he’s even started to process you calling him angel, he sees a glint in your eyes, that edge in your smile again and before he knows what’s happening, you’re kissing him.

You’re kissing him and it’s- everything.

Your mouth is soft against his, and Spencer’s insides twist and flutter and his brain is kind of lagging behind, but he wants to be closerclosercloser-

It’s so good Spencer completely blanks on everything. There’s nothing in his mind except the feel of your lips moving against his. There’s no insecurity, no embarrassment tainting this moment even though this is literally like, only the sixth kiss or so of Spencer’s life and he has no idea what he is doing. But it’s so good.

A noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper escapes him when you lick into his mouth and Spencer’s soul almost leaves his body. He feels you shudder where you are pressed together, chest to chest.

“Spencer, Spencer”, you breathe against his lips, in between wet, hot, kisses. You rub your nose against his, eyes closed.

“Hmm?”, he hums, his voice somewhere in Canada or wherever. His mouth is too busy smiling so wide it hurts, anyways. No time for articulating anything.

“You’re amazing, Spencer, amazing.”

And he wants to shake his head, no, because the only one amazing here is you. But it’s impossible to disagree with you when your mouth has returned to his in a way that is probably ruining him for anyone else. (He’s okay with that.)

You peck him on the lips once, twice more, before you press your lips against his jaw, exactly where you had your fingers before. Your hands are basically the only thing holding Spencer up in a sitting position, because he feels like molten chocolate in your hands. Muscles apparently forgetting to do their job and well. Who can blame them? Spencer has stopped thinking in proper sentences the moment you had walked into his life, so. Only a matter of time until you broke the rest of him as well.

You kiss his neck and Spencer gasps. It’s really been a hot minute - three years, one hundred, twenty-one days and twenty hours to be exact – the last time he made out with someone. Everything feels heightened on his heated skin, especially you opening your mouth against him and licking him oh god-

It almost feels like a reward when you gently bite at his skin next. Spencer almost screams.

“So good, so so good for me”, he hears you whisper into the skin of his neck and this time, Spencer does make a noise. Because yes. He wants that. Be good for you. That’s the only thing in his fuzzy mind that feels clear, that feels graspable.

He can see your pupils dilate. Can see the wicked lilt to your lips. “You like being good for me, don’t you, angel?”

ANGEL. Spencer is nodding his head before he knows he does so. “Yes, yes.”

“Fuck”, he hears you breathe against him and it’s strange, seeing the effect he has on you. Did really he do that? “I can’t believe how incredible you are, sweetheart.”

And you need to stop. If you keep calling Spencer these things- he’s pretty sure he won’t survive this. The team would need to find another genius to solve cases with. His cactus Greg would dry out and wilt and die. You and Penelope would need to find another victim to send confusing memes to.

“Did you like my pictures, Spencer?”, you then ask and that’s so not fair. You can’t just ask him that while he’s so utterly in your hands that he’s sure he’d tell you about every little fantasy he’s had about you ever if you asked.

Because Spencer wants to be good, feels that need so deeply in his bones, he nods frantically. “Yes, I- I liked them.”

At the same time the words leave his mouth, something feels wrong. There’s an ugly thing twisting in his stomach, so unpleasant it momentarily occludes the high-octane bliss-fuzz fogging up his mind.

You notice the shift in mood almost immediately. “What’s wrong, angel?”

And well. It’s just- that guilt. Of not saying anything to you about Spencer seeing your nudes, of just ogling you like that without your permission. That wasn’t very good of him. Actually, the opposite. He’s been bad and he hates that. Hates that so severely that there’s suddenly tears on his cheeks and oh no. That’s mortifying. Who cries before sex? Jesus Christ he’s such a virgin it is genuinely embarrassing.

“I’m- I’m sorry”, he stutters, a little bit hysterical, creating distance between you, arms slung around himself, “I should’ve, should’ve said something, I’m so so sorry, I’m the worst friend and now I’m- I’m crying, oh god, I’m so sorry-“

“Hey, hey hey whoa. Spencer, darling. Penguin. Look at me, please?”

But he shakes his head. He doesn’t deserve to look at you again. What was he even thinking? He was- so creepy and now- now-

Two warm hands grab his face and then Spencer is looking into your eyes again. He squeezes his own shut, but all that it does is send more tears spilling over his cheeks and he’s so fucking stupid-

“Baby, please.”

Spencer sobs.

Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. That’s the best thing he has ever heard but he doesn’t deserve these things.

“Of course you deserve it, silly goose”, you say and oh. He’s said that out loud.

Your thumbs brush over his cheeks and Spencer can’t not lean into your touch, despite everything. Because that’s just the way it always is. He’s drawn to your warmth and tenderness like a moon revolves around its planet.

“I thought we’d established that it was an accident? And if it was someone’s fault, then mine, because no password, remember?”

Spencer opens his eyes. The deep affection swimming in yours makes him sob again. He’s a mess. A crying, horny mess and Spencer definitely fucked this up. Why does Spencer always ruin the few good things in his life?

“Spencer, Spencer. Hey. It’s okay, I promise you. We wouldn’t be doing this, if it wasn’t, okay?”, you kiss his nose. “Do you want to lay down, maybe?”

He nods, not really thinking clearly. He moves up the bed, under the covers and curls up on his side. He waits for you to get up from the bed, for you to walk over to the door and leave. To say that this was a mistake, he was a mistake. To say that you take back everything you said to him in the last half hour.

He’s not just a little surprised to feel your weight dip the mattress, to feel even more sudden warmth engulf him when you spoon him from behind. You start tracing swirly patterns over the skin of his arm and he feels goosebumps spread all over his body.

Some minutes tick by, you still holding him, when his tears have finally dried up. He doesn’t remember crying so much in one day. Spencer feels miserable.

“Do you still like me?”, he asks, and yes, it’s pathetic and stupid but. He doesn’t care if you never have sex or if you’re not going to be more than his friend now. Because the thought of you not being in his life in any capacity anymore- just no.

He can feel you freeze and take in a sharp breath. “Wha- Spencer. Of course, I still like you. I don’t care what we do, I just want to be with you. In any way you’ll have me.”

You sound so understanding and sincere and actually confused about his fear as if you’d never even think of not liking him anymore and and and-

And something in him just- snaps. He wants you, needs you so much he’s going to die if he doesn’t-

He shuffles and turns in your arms until he’s face to face with you. You look at him, eyebrow raised in question but so beautiful and lovely and you still like him-

“I want you so bad”, he says and then he presses his lips against yours again.

You respond immediately, low moan escaping you and Spencer is greedy, he wants to hear more, feel more, feel everything with you.

He’s kissing you as if he’s going to die if he ever stopped, which, yes, he absolutely would, and you kiss him back as if you can’t live without him. It makes everything become hazy again, like before, and every bad feeling suddenly feels eons away. Like he’s underwater, floaty and relaxed. Safe, he feels safe in the way you kiss him and hold him. Like you always do.

You move your kisses to his neck, sucking and biting and Spencer is moaning and moaning and can’t stop and then suddenly, you’re gone, what –

“Spencer, Spencer, wait”, you pant, out of breath and flushed and he wants to cry again, “Sorry, sorry I just-“

You frame his face in your hands, a little bit roughly. “I’m so sorry for making this so hard, you’re being so good for me, but Spencer. Have you done this before?”

Somewhere in the fog that is his minds, Spencer finds his voice. It’s high and airy but he doesn’t care. “No, no, I haven’t.”

He watches you take a deep breath, feels your fingers digging into his skin a little bit more.

“Tell me. Do you want this, Spencer?”, your voice is shaking as if you need to keep yourself in check and Spencer can’t believe he’s getting to see you like this.

“Yes”, he says because he can’t ever want anything else, and, “Please make me feel good.”

You inhale sharply, your grip on his face bordering on painful. “Spencer, you’re incredible, amazing, the best- I’ll make you feel good, okay? I’ll make you feel so good because you deserve it.”

“Yes”, Spencer is not ashamed of how whiny he sounds. No. He’s owning it now. This is his thing now, okay? He’ll gladly be your pathetic wet cat, or whatever the term was that you sometimes use to describe him with. Whatever it even means.

“Good”, you grin, and then you push on his shoulder hard and he’s on his back. And you. Sitting on top of him, thighs on either side of him. Straddling him exactly where he wants you most and he exhales a needy ‘ah’. His hypothesis of liking being manhandled is… yet to be disproven. He’s discovering so many things about himself today.

Pleasure radiates in waves from where you’re passively giving pressure to his hard cock and yeah okay. This is good. Amazing. He’s never felt better. But-

“Please.”

“Please what, angel?”

“More?”

“More what?”

Your fingers trailing along his throat and jaw, down his chest and teasing ghost-like over his nipples are not really helpful in finding the right words to what he wants. You take pity on him.

“More touch?”

Spencer nods his head, so fast he almost gets dizzy because he’s at that point again where everything feels liquid, hazy, a little bit unreal. So, speaking is already quite the task.

You smile at him as if he just solved the most difficult equation. “Doing so good, Spencer. Incredible.”

He moans. Okay. Another hypothesis to add to his ever-growing list of scientific discoveries today.

“Where do you want touch, Spencer? Here?”, there’s hands in his hair. He shakes his head.

“Hmm… Here?”, fingers drawing circles on his chest and yes, that feels nice, so nice but he wants-

“Here?”, you ground your hips down and jesus-

“Yes!”, Spencer almost chokes on the sound. Pleasure shoots up his spine and he whimpers. “Please.”

You exhale shakily, looking flush. ��Okay. Because you ask so nicely.” There’re two little taps on his lower stomach through his shirt. “Do you want to take this off first? Or no?”

The way you give him the chance to say no- the way you respect his autonomy so deeply-

It’s basic human decency, yes, but it’s also the hottest thing and Spencer feels so valued and understood and safe that he’s not even hesitating when he mutters a quiet yes.

You help him sit up because he’s currently not really heir over his body like he usually is. Help his head out of the shirt and thread his arms out. And then, he’s half naked in front of you and suddenly, the doubt and insecurity that’ve been so quiet so far are back with a vengeance.

The urge to cover himself is so big it’s impossible to stop his arms from wrapping around himself.

Spencer knows he’s not ugly. He’s not that bad looking actually. Can’t be too bad if Morgan keeps insisting on calling him pretty boy, even though Spencer sometimes still has the sneaking suspicion that he’s teasing him. But his friend wouldn’t be so cruel.

But other people like to be. Pipe-cleaner, leek, straw, big-eyes. He’s heard it all before. He has matured enough and grown into himself so that these things don’t bother him like they used to. But still. Still. These things are arduous to scrub from under his skin.

Your gaze on him though- he’s never felt so, cleaned from all of these mean words before. You look- you look reverent while mapping his skin and maybe that’s the reason why he lowers his arms again.

“Spencer. You’re a dream”, you say, almost in trance. Almost as if you’re hypnotized by him, and he’s flushing. But. Being watched so intently, being admired like that. He feels his dick give an indigent twitch against your clothed core. Another thing for the list.

“So impatient”, you tut and Spencer flushes more. He thinks he’s waited long enough for this. But he doesn’t say that. If you stopped now- he would definitely combust spontaneously.

You lean down, over him. Hands trailing along his sides like you did earlier, but without any clothes between your skin and his. It’s almost too much. And not enough. He feels electrified, where you touch him. His heart is hammering against his ribs so hard you must be able to feel it. His stomach is in knots, fluttery. He’s never felt more alive.

You connect your lips to his throat, placing kiss after kiss along the arched length of it. Follow the same path with your tongue and Spencer whines, curves up against you a little. Everything feels so good Spencer is floating in it.

You shift your attention to his collarbones next, kissing but then gently biting and Spencer feels the indents of your teeth all the way through to his back and he hopes, wants, you to sink them into him so deep they’ll leave marks. So that he carries the evidence of this with him for the rest of this case, so that there’s absolutely no more doubt to who he belongs to. That thought alone makes him whimper, makes him feel that tiny little bit more lost in you.

You start kissing along his chest, down his stomach. Open mouthed, wet kisses and Spencer shivers when the places you put them feel cold after because of your spit. The lower you get, the noisier he becomes and at one point, Spencer would’ve been embarrassed. Well, he kind of is, but he’s also so turned on that the embarrassment doesn’t feel as stifling like usual. Rather, in a weird way, it makes everything hotter, and he does not own enough brain capacity right now to decipher that. But he does add it to the list.

When your face is dangerously close to the waistband of his pyjama, Spencer tenses, holds his breath. Being shirtless is one thing, but… well.

“It’s okay, Spencer. We only do as much as you feel comfortable with”, you murmur, giving a small peck to the left of his belly button. You calmingly follow his sides with your hands, smiling at him with so much affection in your eyes that Spencer feels speechless, breathless, until the tension releases his muscles again and he melts into the sheets.

“’m just…”, he tries, he really tries so hard to tell you that he wants this more than anything he’s ever wanted but that he just feels… insecure.

You kiss his stomach again. “How about we only take off the pyjama? For now? If you want to take off your underwear too later, we can still do that.”

That… that’s actually a good idea. So, he nods.

“Words, angel.”

“Yes, yes. That’s- good.”

You look so proud of him. “You’re so good, Spencer. Perfect.”

He moans embarrassingly loud. He really should be more concerned about this. About how you are basically pulling him apart, thread by thread and he just lets you, willingly. How you know which threads to pull to reduce him to a sweaty mess in what felt like 0.2 seconds.

There’s a finger dipping beneath the waistband, moving back and forth along the newly exposed skin. Your eyes watch him intently, almost predator-like. A question is in there somewhere as well and Spencer nods again.

You help him lift his hips, help him pull down the pants. Spencer is kind of busy kicking his legs a little to shake them off completely but when he looks back and down himself to where you are hyper-focused on the outline of his cock through the thin fabric he blushes.

Even more when he notices the big, dark blue splotch in front of his underwear. That’s definitely never happened before. How embarrassing.

When you look up at him again, you’re also flushed. Eyes dark, wide, voice kind of unsteady. “Spencer, Spencer, can I?”

“Please”, and then you palm him with your hand, and it feels so good it takes all of his concentration to not come on the spot. He doesn’t know if he’ll survive this until you arrive to the main thing.

It’s not the first time someone has touched him like that, but it is the first time you are doing it, and it already feels better than anything he’s ever felt before. You’re either a wizard or Spencer is just biased because he thinks everything you do is ten times better than the same thing done by someone else.

Probably the first reason.

He has his head angled back, one of his arms thrown over his eyes. If he looked at you now, he’s pretty sure, he’d come. Visual stimulation on top of physical would probably be the end of him. It’s already too much, just feeling your hand move up and down his dick in various pressures. Almost as if you are testing what he likes best, and Spencer is definitely here for it. Definitely. He’s happy to just let you experiment with him until you know all the different ways to drive him mad with pleasure with just a few moves.

Which, you apparently already figured out, judging by the way Spencer can’t form a single coherent thought anymore. It’s already, so good, so freaking good holy shit, and you’re still not touching him. Still a layer of fabric between your hand and him and he kind of- just-

“Take it off?”

You still your hand, looking up at him. You look kind of crazed, almost a little pained. It takes two deep breaths for you to process what he just asked, eyes a little unfocused before they fix Spencer to the bed with an intensity that makes him feel unfocused. “You sure, angel?”

Spencer literally can’t do anything but nod. You stay in your position for some moments longer, before you sigh out a long breath, mumbling something that suspiciously resembles you’re gonna be the death of me. Spencer misses your warmth on top of him the second you hoist yourself up. It’s kind of crazy and destitute of him. You are literally right there but he’s waited for this for so long it feels like he’s suffocating without your weight pressing him down. Which is ironic and also, insane.

Your fingers are gentle, when they move under the stretchy fabric of his underwear. Even gentler when they pull down and down and down until Spencer is entirely naked in front of you.

Oh, he feels so exposed. While he has been the recipient of a mediocre hand job before, it’s been in his trousers. This is kind of the first time someone sees him naked like that, because school locker rooms and his mother don’t count.

He doesn’t dare look at you. If there’s anything akin to disappointment, not to mention disgust on your face- Spencer probably would have to jump out the window, stat. His gaze is frozen on his cock, steadily leaking precum on his stomach (which, embarrassing). He’s abashedly trying to insert himself into your point of view, tries to imagine what you think about seeing him like this. What you might think about his dick, if it’s too short or too thin or if it looks weird, if he should’ve shaved. If his legs look strange and too gangly now, or if his stomach connects to his pubic area wrong or-

“Holy shit”, you say, and Spencer is too curious for his own damn good sometimes, because he can’t force his gaze to stay away from you.

You look at him- like before. Reverent but more, so much more. He almost feels like a deity, the way you look at him. Someone to be awed by, someone that should be worshipped. Spencer feels his already in overdrive heartbeat quicken even more, blood flushing his cheeks so much it leaks down his throat, to his chest.

Spencer would literally kill to have you look at him like this for the rest of his life.

“Holy shit, Spencer”, you repeat, eyes now meeting his, “You’re like- a literal fucking dream. I cannot believe- you’re so beautiful, how are you so beautiful everywhere?”

Spencer whimpers and he needs you to touch him kiss him fuck him anything please now or he will absolutely die from heart palpitations.

Some of his despairing thoughts must’ve come through to you, because the next thing you do is moan, which is the best thing he’s ever heard. Then, you take off your sweater. Second to go is your cropped tank top and you aren’t wearing a bra and good heavens.

Pictures could never compare. Not even Botticelli could’ve adequately committed you to canvas.

Spencer must’ve taken some brain damage from seeing you half naked. He doesn’t remember you taking off the remainder of your clothes, nor does he remember you straddling him again. But, fuck.

Spencer kind of doesn’t use the f-word that often but-

fuckfuckfuckufuckfkcufuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckcufkc-

You’re warm against him, and wet, so freaking wet, and it feels so mind-blowingly good- it’s a miracle he’s still holding on. But-

“Won’t last long”, he gets out, breathy and whiny and just so goddamn fuzzy from pleasure. The world could literally perish right now, and he wouldn’t care. He can’t care, because this is the best thing that ever happened to him and he won’t ever care about anything else ever again other than feeling you, you you you you, against him.

“Spencer, Spencer”, you breathe, gasp, and fuck, the way you keep using his name. “Are you okay? Do you still want this?”

It’s ridiculous you even ask. But the warmth in his chest, the feeling of comfort and safety and ease – because everything with you is so easy, so natural - he feels with the way you look after him-

He feels your thumbs caressing his wet cheeks. You put small, sweet kisses all over his face. Take the time to brush away some of his sweat-sticky hair from his forehead. Place kisses there too. You end with a drawn out, gentle kiss to his lips.

“What do you say, sweetheart?”

There’s really only one way for him to answer that. He trusts you. Plain and simple. There’s no one else he could ever do this with.

“Yes, I want. Please.”

You kiss him again. “So good Spencer, you’re so fucking good to me. I can’t believe you are trusting me with this. You are incredible, angel.”

Spencer doesn’t know how it’s anatomically possible, but he blushes even harder. Also, feels his cock twitch against you because he apparently likes to be called good almost as much as he likes being good. For you. Only you. Jesus Christ.

“Do you have a condom?”, you ask and ah. Well.

“Suitcase”, and wow. First word with more than one syllable since you straddled him the first time. He’s being so brave right now. He deserves a medal. Proof of Being Able to Speak Polysyllabic Words While Getting Fucked (Almost).

There’s humour glistening in your eyes, when you hide a fake gasp behind your hand and say, “Oh my god, Spencer you dog. Can’t believe you planned this entire thing.”

Spencer almost chokes on his own spit. “N-no! I just- uh, like being prepared.”

You grind down a snort, drive your teeth into your lower lip. “In case you accidentally saw your coworker’s nudes and them being down to fuck you about it?"

Oh my god, you’re the most ridiculous person he’s ever met. He can’t stop himself from grinning because seeing you trying to keep your laughter at bay-

“Yes. That.”

“But what if- what if it was Rossi instead of you seeing them? How would’ve your plan worked out then, huh?”, you wheeze, shaking from literal suppressed laughter and Spencer makes a sound like a dying horse.

“Rossi? Rossi?”

“Oh my god, imagine it would’ve been Hotch. He would’ve probably fired me so hard and then called me a week later to disappointed-dad-talk me to come back but to please, refrain from bringing personal files to work in the future.”

Spencer laughs. He’s still rock-hard underneath you, but he’s laughing because that’s what you always do. Being so absurd and silly that he’s shocked to laughter.

He adores you with every fibre of his being.

“What the fuck?”, you ask, incredulous but laughing yourself, “Is my misery amusing to you?”

And Spencer feels like being a little bit of a brat. “Very.”

You flick his nose. Grumble something like I’ll show you misery and then you move your hips against his and Spencer sees stars. Let’s out an embarrassingly high whine.

Ah well. It was still worth it.

“Don’t move”, you order, when you climb down from him to retrieve a condom. Spencer watches you, lets himself look at you. All the times he’s wondered how it would be, how it would feel like, being in this kind of situation with you. He’s never in a million years thought it would feel so familiar. Like you’ve done this before, so many times that it’s just become something normal between you two. He’s actually relaxed. So turned on it feels like he’s going to burst any second, but he’s calm. He feels comfortable, so much so that it doesn’t even matter that it’s the first time he’s doing this and he’s so clueless about all of this.

But he knows, if it’s with you, he never ever has to worry about anything.

“Do you have lube as well?”, you ask, rifling through his suitcase and distracting him from his sappy thoughts.

“Hmm. No, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, angel”, you say while returning to Spencer, and the nickname kind of switches something off again in his brain. Perfect. He’s never going to be able to be normal again about that word.

“We’ll have to get some, for next time. Always feels better with it.”

Spencer hasn’t really registered more than next time next time next time-

He’s pulled out of his daze of knowing your intentions of this not only being a one-off thing, when you straddle him again, a bit lower on his legs. Spencer moans, loud and high, when you grab him by the base and god, fuck, his skin is tingling with anticipation.

With your other hand, you grab the condom and then use your teeth to open the packet, and his cock jumps in your hand. How are you so hot. How does everything you do turn him on so much, what.

He watches you take out the plastic ring as if he’s watching from above, out of his body. He watches as you position the condom over his tip and then pull it down, down and Spencer’s brain must be lagging because he feels everything with at least a two second delay and shit, god, son of a-

“You ready, baby?”

He makes a noise between a sob and a whine. He’s losing his mind. “Please please please-“

“Fuck, Spencer”, you whine, lift yourself up a bit with your legs and then you are sinking down on him, inch by agonizing inch.

It’s so good, it’s so good, you are so warm, so hot, and Spencer can’t stop making noises until your hips are flush to his and he’s inside you.

You let out a loud, drawn-out moan above him. “Fuck, fuck, Spencer. You feel so fucking good, holy shit.”

He feels like he’s one move away from coming. God, oh god, it feels so incredible.

“Can I move? Spencer, please?”, your voice is wrecked, you’re flushed down to your navel, and you’re the best thing he’s ever seen.

“Please please please please”, it’s the only word he remembers how to pronounce.

“Fuck”, you almost sob, lifting yourself almost completely off him. You lower yourself back down again, one swift move, and you both moan.

You pick up the pace a little, fucking him with still languid but purposeful thrusts. Every time his cock sinks back into you, Spencer feels bits and pieces of his sanity crumbling away. He can’t think, can’t speak, his mind so fogged up and fuzzy he’s having troubles remembering who he is. He’s so completely at your mercy he’d let you do anything to him.

That turns him on a worryingly huge amount. List, something about a list somewhere.

“Oh, god, look at you. Spencer, baby, angel. You feel so good inside of me, so good.”

He keens, grabs at your strong thighs bracketing his slim hips. Arches up into you, closerclosercloser-

“You like being good for me, right angel?”, you ask, hips slowing down to a gentle grinding that absolutely drives Spencer insane and he’s too far gone to even nod, “It suits you. Being so wrecked for me, moaning and shaking. God, fuck, you’re divine, Spencer, fuck.”

The pressure behind his cock, low in his stomach, that’s been building all evening, all week, holy shit, it’s too much. Spencer feels delirious, feels your hotness around him, feels your hands pressing his chest down into the bed. He’s going to die it feels so good.

“You going to come for me, Spencer? You gonna be good for me and come inside of me?”

Please please please please- it’s all he can think, all he can feel, because because-

You give a particularly hard thrust and-

Spencer’s coming, moaning and moaning, shaking everywhere. He’s coming and it feels so good, so fucking good. He’s never come so hard in his life before.

He might have blacked out a little. The next time he’s aware of something, it’s you cleaning him with a wet washcloth. Slow, and gentle and Jesus.

“What?”, is the first thing he manages to say, and you snicker beside him. You caress his face, hand running through his hair, down his chest. Peck his lips. You’re both still naked.

“Feeling good?”, you ask and what kind of question even is that. You just fucked the soul from his body, and you ask him-

“I almost died”, he says, tagging your name at the end with an incredulous tint to it.

You snort, setting the washcloth on the nightstand behind you. You lie down close to him, cuddling into his side. “That was the plan.”

“Killing me with sex?”

“Yep. That’s for ogling my nudes without my permission, you creep.”

He says your name again, exasperated but so fucking fond it’s a miracle you’ve never noticed his pining before. You shrug, pull a ‘what can you do face’. Spencer rolls his eyes and then, unceremoniously, flops on top of you.

“Uffff”, you press out. “You’re smothering me, penguin.”

Spencer shrugs and copies the expression you just did. You bark out a laugh.

“Ha! Didn’t know post-sex Spencer is such a cheeky little shit. I’ve created a monster.”

He can’t entirely control his face, some parts of a smile slipping into his features. He does manage to poke out his tongue at you though, before he buries his face in your neck.

Some minutes tick by, you both enjoying the other’s presence and warmth and idleness, before something in his brain-

“Wait-“, Spencer splutters, pushing himself away from you so that he can look at you. “Did you- did you even finish?”

He’s kind of horrified. He was so focused on his pleasure- he- how did he forget? He doesn’t remember you coming and oh no, he’s such an asshole, who doesn’t make sure the other person has come as well and-

“Spencer, Spencer”, you shush him, fingers trailing along his back, and he shivers, eyes rolling back.

“I made myself come right after, don’t worry. You were kind of busy in your post-orgasm, pussy-drunk coma.”

Spencer flushes. “But I wanted to…”

You laugh softly. “You can do whatever to me, next time, sweets. This was about you. We’ll go on a date as soon as we’re back home. Fucking Florida is driving me nuts.”

Oh, he suddenly feels shy. A date? You want to go on a date with him?

“Really?”, he asks, and he hates how insecure he sounds.

You send him an unbelieving look. “Uh, what about the last hour makes you think otherwise? Seriously, Spencer, we need to work on your confidence.”

“Okay”, he mutters, a little bit pout-y and you scoff, pulling him down on top of your chest again.

There, with your hands painting patterns on his back and him completely lost in your warmth and familiarity, Spencer thinks that maybe, Florida isn’t that bad.

--

Bonus

“So, then. Made any scientific discoveries last night, pretty boy?”

Spencer chokes on his coffee.

“What?”

“Nothing”, his ‘friend’ says, smirking and leaning against his table, “You just seem to have figured out that little problem that’s been keeping that pretty head of yours all messed up.”

Spencer feels himself flush. Stupid body and stupid involuntary, physiological reactions. Morgan picks up on it, of course.

“Ohhhhh, want to share with the class what those discoveries were?”

Briefly, so very briefly, Spencer thinks of his self-compiled list but- no no no no.

“Shut up, Morgan.”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

tags: @sebastiansstanswhore @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @wasitforrevenge @wannabewolf @tommorecommendedfics @winterhi09 @theoraekenslover @chaewondrful @okeyhoezayy @busy-buzzing @laurakirsten0502 @redros3y @trashxqueen @kitty-kei @so-long-daisymay @hayleythecannibal @jsnsnsnszjzj @reeidsluv @kayane28 @moonysreid @desperately-seeking-serotonin @munsonslunchbox @tul1p-mimi @anuttellaa @pinkgomie @elizabethmidnight2017 @evrmorets @cyanidebitsg @bangchansdog @pinterestwhore145 @some-one-yiu-dont-kno @emma-e-a

i hope these work lmao, also let me know if you wanna be on my eternal tag list for any future Spencer fic ;)

[rosyblooom]

levi's jeans | ln4 smau

PAIRING: lando norris x fem quadrant!reader SUMMARY: y/n loves levi's jeans—it's all she wears, ever. so when lando has to draw her in a quadrant video, that's what he draws: levi's jeans. a bad attempt at flirting? maybe, but it gets the ball rolling. A/N: been listening to 'levii's jeans' 24/7 since the album dropped omg

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yourusername happy now??? i don't only wear levi's jeans see😌

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username the lando tag??? lmao his drawing is still on her mind💀

username no but the way I didn't even question it when he drew jeans for y/n lool username @/levis I found yall's next collab partner

landonorris Why'd you tag me in this 🤣

yourusername u drew the jeans🙄 username ...how about u guys kiss and makeup hmm?😏

username oop get u a girl that can do both iktr!!

username why do i kinda want them to date tho🧍‍♀️

username babe me too username me three 🙋‍♂️ username i've been thinking little lando has a crush👀 it was soo obvious in the yt vid

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[ caption: New Quadrant video out now!! Swipe up to watch ]

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[ caption: let's ride 🏍️ ]

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f1gossipofficial

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f1gossipofficial After two months of being spotted together numerous times in London and Monaco, and stirring up dating rumours, Lando Norris and fellow Quadrant member Y/N L/N were recently seen off the coast of Spain, soaking up the sun and looking pretty cosy.

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username it's already been 2 months??? omg can they just say yes or no i'm tired😩

username can yall not read the room? look at the pics and ask yourself if that's how friend act pls username they've been friends for ages before that, it makes sense not to rush into anything tbh

username OMG Y/N'S NOT WEARING JEANS🤩

username cause they're in the ocean??🤣 username a win is a win idc !!

username noo i hope they're just friends😭💔

username they're both so hot omfg

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yourusername so happy to announce my levi's x y/n collab that's coming out next week friday!!😭 as everyone probably knows (and is sick of lol) i love me some levi's, so this collection has been soo much fun to work on and i'm very excited for you guys to see it!!🤍❤️💙

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3:35 ─────────ㅇ─── 4:17

[the-kr8tor]

lavender + ❣️ with Jason todd where they are at the manor after being out ( prob shopping or smth) and he confesses his love bc a bunch of guys were asking for readers number but she turned them all down and he wanted to be hers and was tired of guys bothering his (soon to be) girl. Hopefully this makes sense lol but you totally don't have to do this. I love you and hope you have an amazing week!! 😘😘

Yay a Jason req! Thank you for being patient! I hope you like your potion 🩷

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem! Reader/ Red Hood x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, CW food mention, Best friends to lovers, Fluff

Katy's one year celebration 🎉

Jason has been uncharacteristically quiet the entire drive to the manor. He doesn't even tap his fingers to the rhythm of the radio playing a cheesy pop song that he keeps telling you that he doesn't like. With one hand he steers the wheel while his elbow rests on the window sill. It's a cool afternoon in Gotham, orange and pink hues shifting along the clouds, the road is still wet from the downpour a few hours ago. His drenched jacket that he used to shield you both from the rain hangs over the backseat.

You watch him with pensive eyes, wracking your brain as to why he's so quiet when he was such a chatterbox back when he was driving to the grocery store. You've almost forgotten what he was talking about, mind reeling from the conclusion that you might've done something to agitate your best friend. Maybe you shouldn't have volunteered to go on a grocery run when Alfred asked, especially that you and Jason planned to hang out at your place. Biting the inside of your cheek, you try to remember what happened at the store to warrant such a stifling silence from Jason— Well, he opened the door for you while he was talking about that new book he was so excited to read. Then he grabbed a cart, pushed it while you had your hand on the end, guiding him, and all the while you two kept chattering on the aisle, taking stuff that was on Alfred's list. And then that was it. Nothing special happened, well except for that one guy with a nice smile who asked you where the cereal was. And that one dude who helped you take the can of beans from the highest shelf while Jason was weighing the blueberries.

You must've looked quite agitated or even constipated because it's now Jason's turn to worry.

“Are you okay? You look like you need to take a shit.” He glances briefly to you, green eyes hiding an emotion you're still trying to ascertain.

“Am I okay? Jay, you're the one who's been silent the entire way.” He enters the manor's gates, shrugging at your words. “We can still hang out at my place after this. I'm sorry we wasted an afternoon buying Damian's sweets.”

There's a small smile on his lips, “that kid eats too much sugar.” Clicking his seatbelt off, he opens the door with a groan, you surmise that his healing knee is still bothering him.

You sigh, getting more anxious at his dodging. Before you could open the door for yourself, you find Jason outside of your door, opening it for you. “C’mon, Jay, talk to me.” Tugging at the hem of his shirt, you smile up at him. “Is it because I ate the donut you left in my fridge?”

Jason furrows his brows, lips pursed, trying not to laugh. “That was yours, babe, I left it for you.”

You blink, hand drifting away from his shirt. He already misses your hold on him. “Oh, thanks.”

“You and Dami share a sweet tooth, so I got it for you.” He leans down, arm placed atop the car, eyes soft and tender. “But thank you for confessing your sins.”

You can't help but ogle at how he looks from below. “...yeah, sure, Jay.” You say in a small tone. It's not the nickname that has you all giddy inside, you're used to his sweet nicknames that he has bestowed upon you. No, it's the thought that he left you a treat because he knows how much you love that triple chocolate donut that has you bouncing off the walls after eating it.

So it's not the donut, then why the hell does he have a stick up his finely toned ass?

Jason leaves your side, the cologne you bought him lingering around you. He opens the trunk, carrying every single plastic bag with both hands. You finally stand up after being weak in the knees after the simple look he gave you. Walking towards him to help, he's already halfway inside the mansion before you could grab a few bags from him. Knowing him, it's all effortless. Well, at least he left you one tiny bag that only contains two boxes of cereal— one regular wheat and one that has your tooth rotting just from looking at the bright colors. With a sigh, you grab it and follow him inside and towards the kitchen.

The plastic bags rustle as he takes out all the groceries. It's filled with fresh vegetables, fruits, sugar and all the food that a vigilante needs for patrol. You put your singular bag on the counter next to the others, helping him take out the rest while he still stands there all quiet and broody. In the low light of the kitchen you can clearly see that Bruce has definitely made a big influence on him.

You put your foot down, knees up on the stool to level with him, hands placed on the cold marble countertop as he raises a curious brow at you. “What's up, Jay?”

“What's up?” He mimics your tone. “Nothing, babe, just taking out the groceries.” You take the can of beans from his hand and then you place it loudly on the counter while you take a stance against the red hood who makes goons cower in fear just from his stare. “You really want to know?”

“Yes!” You exclaim, reaching over the counter to grab his hand. Wordlessly telling him that you're there for him whatever kind of problem has plagued him recently.

Jason watches as your fingers dance along his scarred palm, kneading his muscles just like you always do whenever he drops in your apartment after a tough patrol. He was so sure that he had gathered enough courage to tell you, but now that you have your hands around his own, all his bravery is down the drain.

He sucks in his teeth, leaning down, elbows atop the counter, green eyes staring anywhere near your eyes, and then he places a quick kiss along your knuckles. Warmth soothing you, almost making you forget what you were asking for.

Defeated, you cup his jaw, thumb running along his growing stubble, fingers reaching behind his ear to rub lovingly across his nape. “Okay, it's okay if you don't want to tell me. But I'll be here if you want to tell me.” You smile when he leans against your touch, eyes looking at you with such fondness that you almost melt on the spot.

Jason rationalizes his thoughts, the same thoughts that have plagued him for years, the same thoughts that he has dreamed of telling you. “It’s not the donut.”

“Of course it's not the donut.” You chuckle, fingers still tangled in his hair.

“And it's not because of the trip to the grocery store.” His eyes flick over to yours, smiling softly at how you look back at him with the same fondness. “I liked our trip, I kept imagining that we were buying stuff for our place.”

“Do you want more hangouts like that then? You can join me in going to my laundry place. We can watch the clothes tumble and dry like a couple of old people.” Your waist is cold against the counter, but you don't mind as long as he's there with you. “How's that sound?”

“Sounds great. I'll bring the spare change.” You chuckle, after a beat, you thought that was the end of it, but Jason looks like he still wants to say something else— so you stay rooted in place. “But that's not the reason.”

“Okay,” you nod, encouraging him to continue. He gives you his other hand to hold, fingers beckoning your touch. You indulge him, leaving his hair to hold his hand.

“It's that fucking guy.” He blurts out. “Guys.” He corrects himself.

“What guys?”

“The ones who were asking for your number.”

You blink, trying to recall. “I don't remember that.”

“Come on, Y/N.” He squeezes your hands as if that will help you remember them. “The tall blonde guy and the one with the uncanny smile. Just thinking about that grin gives me the creeps.”

“Oh,” you know Jason enough to actually know what he means. “Yeah, I actually remember now. What about them?”

He scoffs, acting like you caught his hand in the cookie jar. “They were bothering you is all. I was just worried for you.”

You nod, hands sliding from his own. For a moment, Jason thinks you're about to go off on him, telling him that you can handle yourself or that you can give your number to whoever the hell you want to. Because who is he to tell you who to date? It's not like you're together, right? But is it wrong that he wants to?

His thoughts get thrown out of the window when you hold his face, soft palms against his rough skin, thumb tracing along the scar on his cheek. It's all affectionate, loving, and it has Jason's heart pumping a thousand times per second.

You smile, head tilting, staring at how his eyes glow under the kitchen lights. It's mundane, but you love him like this, just like how you love him in any way shape or form. You love your best friend. “You're an idiot, Jason Todd.” Your smile gets bigger, he frowns, fearing the worst. “You know that I'm in love with you, right?”

Jason's worried eyes light up, not a trace of his worries, just you in his vision, bathed in the light of his home. “Now I do.” He chuckles, mirroring your position, holding your face in his hands, gentle, like how you'd hold a delicate feather. Placing his forehead atop yours, he says the three words back. “I love you. I'm sorry it took this long.”

Jason leans away, eyes staring at your lips before watching your heart shaped eyes look at him. “That's my girl.” Tilting his head back, you chase his lips, grabbing his collar to do what you've always wanted to do.

“I don't blame you, it took me a while too.” You sniff, refusing to let the tears escape you. “By the way, I never gave them my number.”

[primalsouls]

your eyes

'malipo' kinich x m!reader

I don't care how long it takes As long as I'm with you I've got a smile on my face

theme: general, fluff

warning: none, i think, maybe a bit ooc?

summary: (name) has been crushing on a certain saurian hunter for a while already and wayna was getting tired of just watching him stare at the hunter with loving eyes with no plans of making a confession. just how long until kinich notices?

notes: got some inspiration lol i finally got kinich a couple of nights ago xD I was so happy, so I started writing this fic for him lol hope you like it! reblog & comments, any feedback is appreciated!

(colored) eyes stared at the back of a certain saurian hunter. he was talking to one of the tribe’s elders. (name) sighed. a longing gaze watching the dendro user walk away with a small bag of mora in his hands, his annoying companion yapping away beside him about any little trait he could use to berate the other. with kinich out of sight, (name) returned to sorting through a box full of gems but another figure blocked his way, startling the young seller.

“you keep staring at him like that, he’ll feel holes burning in the back of his head.” joked the tribe's chief Wayna, a playful smirk displayed on his features. (name)’s cheeks burned, a pinkish hue decorating across them. “c’mon, when are you going to tell him? you’ve been pinning him since the day you came from Inazuma.” wayna added with a tilt of his head and his arms crossed firmly over his chest. (name) glared at him lightly, smacking the chief’s arm while gesturing to shush. 

“shut up! you can’t say that aloud.” (name) huffed, walking over to the chief to return to his latest shipment. part of him regretted telling wayna about his secret crush on the dendro hunter. well, more like the older man found out within the first few weeks after (name) arrived in huitztlan and got rescued by kinich and the self-centered dragonlord k'uhul ajaw in a near-death attack by some of the wild saurians. Wayna, of course, teased the inazuman merchant for a while about his little secret crush on the hunter after promising not to spill it out to anyone else, especially on kinich, or worse, ajaw. but wayna was getting a little tired of the electro user just staring at the guy whenever he was around. it had been almost half a year since (name) came to natlan. he was surprised kinich didn’t sense those yearning glances… yet. maybe he already noticed but doesn’t bother looking into it. maybe he didn’t. wayna was curious now. 

wayna sighed, shaking his head. “young people these days.” he said, looking over the seller roamed through his shipment. “you two aren’t staying any younger. you should confess, (name).”

“and for what? to get rejected? get made fun of and berated by the oh-so-great dragonlord k’uhul ajaw?” (name) said through gritted teeth, annoyance sipping into his tone. “i’ve rather died in the night kingdom than confess my feelings to kinich.” wayna winced at the last part of (name)’s statement. not wanting to get electrocuted, wayna simply patted (name)’s head and walked away to attend to other matters in the tribe. the merchant clicked his tongue before moving around his little shop to display the new various gems he received from kirara. as he pulled out another small box with more gems stored inside it, (name) noticed a pretty gem that had a familiar color of a familiar pair of eyes. oh, great. now kinich was beginning to affect his line of work. maybe he should confess… but how? no, maybe he shouldn’t. his feelings are only going to get hurt and he would have no choice but to move back to inazuma. archons, his mind tends to be exaggerating. 

(name) shook his head. maybe next time. when he has enough courage to confess his pining feelings. 

the gem matching kinich’s eyes was too pretty. (name) had no choice but to make it into a bracelet. it looked beautiful. just like kinich. ugh. he just can’t get rid of him. The saurian hunter kept plaguing his mind every day and night. his heart raced at just the mention of his name. (name) frowned. he put the bracelet away in his pockets as he walked down the dirt path leading to the scions of the canopy. he was still a long way from home. (name) had a delivery he needed to do personally, to make the gems the customer asked for delivered safely and he did so by delivering them himself. he should have just hired kirara. it was a long walk. too long. 

“you pathetic, lizard-brain worm! you dared tried to defy the almighty dragonlord k’uhul ajaw!? you truly dared to invite the wrath of the almighty dragonlord k’uhul ajaw, a sovereign of the nation of flames!”

(name) paused. he recognized that voice. that aggravating voice. even from this distance, he could feel it getting under his skin. but if ajaw was nearby… does that mean he was too?

biting his lower lip back, (name) debated eavesdropping into their conversation. he shouldn’t but… archons, he sounded like a creep thinking this, he wanted to see kinich. it had been almost a week since he last saw him. it was just a little glance. that’s all. 

quietly walking over behind a tree, (name) peeked over the trunk. ah, there he was. standing tall with his arms crossed over his chest, eyes closed as he let ajaw talk his ears off. but it wasn’t just him there. the legendary traveler and their companion paimon were there, too. (name) honestly didn’t pay attention to the other three. His longing gaze was set on the dark-haired dendro user. 

wow. how can a human being like him be so pretty and strong-willed?

(name) sighed with a heavy heart and blinked. but when he looked over to where kinich stood, said hunter was gone. oh, no. the other three were still arguing with one another, so where had kinich gone to?

“i’ve seen the way you look at me when you think i don’t notice.” a voice spoke lowly behind him. (name) let out a small, frightened shout at the sudden presence of kinich behind him. his eyes widened. his face flushed brightly. his words quickly registered into his mind before shaking his hands in defend. 

“wha-wha-what are you ta-talking about?” (name) cursed mentally for his nervous stutter, his (colored) eyes looked anywhere but at the saurian hunter. 

“that longing look in your eyes… noticed it for a while now.” kinich answered, uncrossing his arms as he took a step closer to (name), who instead took a step behind. and they continued for a bit until his back met the tree, kinich never breaking eye contact. 

(name)’s brows furrowed, his anxious gaze staring down at the ground beside him. a hand went into his pocket where the bracelet was, trying to see comfort from it. 

getting no response back, kinich tilted his head as he leaned his face closer to (name). he was a few inches taller than him, finding the little height difference endearing. “started noticing it after the first month you stayed in the canopy. the way you have this yearning look in your eyes. they’re always set on me. you wouldn’t even flinch whenever i caught your stare.” oh, no. (name) inwardly groaned. he must have zoned out as he stared openly at the claymore wielder. the merchant wanted to dig a hole and died in it out of embarrassment. so kinich knew for half a year. how humiliating. 

“i-i didn’t mean to… i’m sorry. i just, um.. I…” (name) was at a loss for words. he was sure his face was as red as those dendrobiums that appeared around the shipwrecks in nazuichi beach. his heart beat so fast, he was afraid it was going to burst out of his chest. part of him hoped so to avoid this worst-case scenario. 

kinich shook his head at the unfinished apology. “there’s no need to say that.” he started, his own gaze now looking at the tree behind (name)’s back. “i’ve…been having the same longing look, too… towards you. for a while now.” kinich said, pulling himself together to look into (name)’s eyes, after said seller found the courage to do so too. he stared down at the other with a small intense look in his eyes before shifting his gaze back towards the trio he left behind. “i’m not busy right now. ajaw is busy with a couple of behavioral teachers right now, so… would you like to take a walk back to the canopy?” kinich offered his arm towards (name). The electro user stared at him in shock before smiling timidly, taking his arm in his own. 

“that will be lovely.” (name) had a feeling wayna would be too surprised the moment they arrived at the tribe. his smile grew a bit, already feeling the teasing miles away. at the very least, things turned out in a good light, unlike what his overthinking mind had clouded inside his head. (name) was happy with this outcome.

[kingkat12]

hickeys (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, mentions of sex, softcore-y smut, tw!bullying, Roman using his powers for no good, he's being so weird about virgin!reader, angsty fluff lol

summary: after having sacrificed your friendship with Letha for Roman's limited understanding of love and affection, you suddenly learn the consequences of your actions...

word count: 7,406 (you know me, not sorry anymore)

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9

Roman had a hickey right on the side of his throat. Thankfully, I knew who gave him that one-- me.

It dawned on me that I had never seen him with one before. Despite how easy it was for me to get lost in the feelings of joy, finding a sense of pride at being the only one allowed to do that to him, I remembered Roman hadn't always been open to these sorts of things. He had warmed up to it gradually, with everything starting as a small incident at my place a week ago.

We had been splayed out on my bed, my face buried in his chest as I took a casual mid-day nap on top of him. It had become a habit-- Roman would come over, we'd bicker about something, then make out for about an hour until he decided to take his smoke break on my balcony. But today was different; the both of us had just finished a rather hard math test, so we were absolutely spent by the time we hit my bed. Roman didn't even have the energy to smoke, and seeing how tired he was, I decided to be bold and cuddle up to him; however, I hadn't expected us to fall asleep like this.

Weirdly enough, he didn't resist my advances. He'd usually start feeling uncomfortable as he wasn't used to affection like this, but today, Roman had his arms around me as I laid with my head on top of his chest. I had been a little embarrassed to wake up to the sight of a tiny puddle of my drool on his sweater, and I tapped the spot with my fingers as though that would make it go away.

Roman awoke, groggy. He let out a low grunt as he raised his head, trying to get a look at what I was doing. "Is that what I think it is?--"

"No," My words barely came out louder than a whisper, now covering the spot with my palm as I looked up at him with a soft smile. "Did you sleep well?"

Roman, being the stubborn asshole he was, didn't even register my question. "Did you drool on me?"

Oh God, this was mortifying. I figured he'd find out anyway; I slowly removed my hand from the spot, sliding off him. "Sorry..." As I rolled over, my back against the bed, I could only sigh. Being Roman's unofficial official girlfriend was hard, especially now that I didn't have any friends to discuss it with. 

However, there were moments where the hardships were worth it. Moments like these ones, where Roman now flipped over and unexpectedly snuggled up to me, his face hiding in the crook of my neck. "I've never been drooled on like that before," he said, his words muffled in my hair. "This is my favourite sweater."

With wary movements, I brought one hand up to his brown locks, gently stroking through them. I wasn't sure what the next sound from Roman was, but the closest thing would be a purr. "I'm sorry," I mumbled, my other hand running up and down his broad back. "Want me to buy you a new one?"

Roman huffed; "Don't be stupid. I'll just leave it in the washer here if you don't mind," 

"The washer?" My hands froze, no longer ghosting over his skin with gentle touches. "It will dry up in a second, Roman, get yourself together. And even worse, I might get the urge to wear it if you leave it here." I immediately regretted that joke the second it slipped past my lips-- in hopes of brushing over it, scared he'd climb off me and go back to being his usual self, I resumed running my fingers through his hair and up his back.

To my surprise, Roman didn't react much. The only thing I could notice was a rather shaky breath against my neck, almost as though he had just had a really tempting thought. Eventually, he spoke; "It wouldn't fit you very well,"

I did my best to shrug, although that was hard to do with someone on top of me. "That's not the premise," I huffed. "People usually wear each others' stuff when they're into one another. It's a cute thing."

"... So you'd want me to leave my sweater here?" Roman eventually propped himself up on his elbows, meeting my gaze. "Why? It's not like you'd be able to wear it anywhere."

It was in moments like these that I realized how little Roman actually knew about girls. He was supposedly very good in bed, but with feelings and affection? He was like a very aggressive puppy with gorgeous fur-- some men you simply have to train to be soft. "I'd wear it at home," I said, reaching out to brush his messed up hair away from his green eyes. "Especially when it's stormy outside and I'm doing my homework."

Something about my words seemed to be leaving small cracks in Roman's shell-- had I not been so observant, I wouldn't have noticed the way his pupils dilated or the way his features softened as he looked at me. "Would it be a one-way thing?" he asked; was I imagining things, or did he sound shy? "You get my sweater, and I get..."  Roman propped himself up further, taking a quick glance around my room. It didn't take long before his eyes landed on the plain, black hair ties on my nightstand, and he wasted no time reaching for two in one go. "I get these."

Seeing him so serious about this exchange was too funny-- I couldn't help the giggle building in my chest, suppressing a rather obnoxious laugh. "Yeah, I think that's smart," I murmured, stroking my thumb over his cheek. "Your hair is getting a little long... Would probably make your life easier."

Roman rolled his eyes, huffing. "It's not exactly like you have anything else lying around here!"

There was no way in hell I was about to tell him that my room was this clean because I had predicted he'd come over. "Okay, but it still works," I reached for his hand, taking the ties into my palm before rolling them over his fingers, watching as the rubber bands now sat comfortably at his wrist. "There you go!" I exclaimed, beaming up at a rather perplexed Roman. "Sweater, please."

It took a few seconds for him to react-- his eyes fixated on the black rubber ties around his wrist, and before I knew it, I saw slivers of pink appearing on his cheeks. I had never seen him react to anything like this before, and I had no idea why Roman was suddenly unmistakably blushing. "Fuck," he breathed. "That's cute." 

To hide his blush, he quickly wried his sweater off his body, throwing it away on a chair nearby before burying his face in the crook of my neck again, putting his whole weight back on me. "Promise to use it for dirty stuff too," he grumbled, probably to save face, before pressing a kiss to my neck. 

I was happy Roman didn't see how brightly I was smiling-- I would've been told off immediately, and he'd most likely retract right back into his shell. It was unusual for him to accept any sort of affection, and I wondered whether he had let anyone this close before. The more I got to know Roman, the more he was sleepy and babbling around me, I realized that I had to gradually ease physical kindness into his life to make our weird whatever-ship work. 

The whatever-ship I had sacrificed everything for.

And I would've spiraled deeper into thoughts about it, but the sudden pressure I felt against my neck made me snap out of it-- I realized he was giving me a rather hefty hickey, a familiar tingling sensation coursing its way through my body. I let out a satisfied sigh, my fingers burying themselves deeper into Roman's hair as he moved elsewhere on my neck to make a second one. "These will go well with the sweater," he purred against my skin.

I held back a shiver-- The hate I had once felt for him had quickly turned into whatever this was. All I knew, was that it felt good enough to distract me from the guilt that kept gnawing at me after betraying Letha the way I did. ｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

The next day at school actually marked a month since the last time Letha and I had spoken on the bleachers. A month of staring at her longingly from afar like a kicked puppy and asking our mutual friends how she was. It didn't take long before they all heard what had happened between Roman and I, and they suddenly became Letha's friends only.

I didn't know how lonely I would be after I chose Roman, and it was slowly breaking my heart. Being blacklisted by nearly all the girls at school was tough, to say the least. 

So as I rummaged around my locker, getting ready for my next class, I didn't expect Letha to approach. There was no way I could imagine she'd do that, especially after the way she had been denying all my attempts of reconciliation. But here she was, blonde hair styled to perfection, and her green, stern eyes meeting mine the second I closed my locker door.

I stared right back, at a loss for words despite opening my mouth to speak. 

Letha cleared her throat, pressing her books tightly against her chest. "It's been a month," she tried, something about her softening with the weight of her words. "I think I might be ready to... talk."

My heart jumped up like never before, immediately thrown into a feeling of ecstatic victory. "What?" I squeaked, unable to stop my beaming look of joy. "Are you serious?" 

Letha shrugged, biting the inside of her cheek to suppress her smile. "I think it's time to try, at least?--" Her words came to a halt the second I turned to face her fully, and her green eyes immediately found my neck. 

My hair had moved to behind my shoulders as I turned around, revealing the hickeys I had tried my best to cover with setting powder and foundation. It didn't take long before Letha's softening look became one of horror as she took a step back, clearly repulsed.

I immediately went into panic, piecing it together. "No, Letha, wait!--"

There was no stopping Letha before she turned on her heel, bolting down the corridor with heavy steps. 

I turned back towards my locker, pressing my forehead against it. There was no way in hell I'd let everyone see me cry in public again. It felt as though Letha had dug her hand into my chest and ripped out my heart, now squeezing it until it finally popped. My breath hitched as I stepped away from the locker, sniffling as I felt a sob build.

Just as I was about to leave and get to class somehow, the familiar scent of cinnamon entered my system. "What did Letha want?" Roman asked, his hands tucked into his pockets as he approached. His brows were drawn together in a disapproving look as he watched Letha disappear down the hallway in unmatched hurry, and I got a good glance at him when I finally turned around to face him. How long had he been watching me from afar?

Roman's glare quickly faded away when his attention shifted and he noticed the way my eyes had glossed over. His whole tough look disappeared within a sliver of a second, and I was unsure whether he noticed it himself. "... Nothing good, I see?"

I shied away from his gaze, my eyes darting down to my shoes. "She wanted to make up all until she saw... well," To demonstrate, I turned a little, showing Roman the once blank canvas which was now covered in about six hickeys that I counted last night. It was clear to me that my attempt at hiding them had failed.

Roman could only sigh, an infuriating grin now spreading across his face. "I'm going to say sorry now, but know that I don't fully mean it because... the sight of you like this is so damn hot," He leaned down, pressing his lips against my forehead as he took my face into his hands. I couldn't help but notice that he was still wearing my two black rubber bands just as my breath hitched at the loving gesture.

Something about the kiss made my heart skip, but another part was ripping at me; Roman clearly cared more about the fact that he had marked me than how upset I was. I hummed in response, not knowing what else to say before much later; "Don't do that,"

"Do what?"

"Don't kiss me like that," I mumbled, pressing my back against my locker to make as much space between us as possible. "Just... Don't." 

Roman's first reaction was on display with a stunned expression, up until his brows drew together in what I could only read as annoyance. "Fine," he said, teeth gritted. His hands fell down at his sides, trying to save face as he took a step away from me; "I'm just trying to make you feel a little better, it's not that fucking deep." In true Godfrey fashion, he also proceeded to storm down the hallway, clearly flustered after being shut down.

I had to take a long breath-- this was a lot to take in for one day. Roman being in denial about his feelings also didn't help much. I wanted to run after him, grab his hand and tell him that he could do absolutely whatever he wanted with me, that I'd love for him to kiss me like that once more, but I knew I couldn't.

It was hard to believe how badly I had fallen for a guy who could barely regulate his own feelings. Someone who insisted on making it apparent to everyone that I was his without actually wanting to put a name to it. I let out a sigh, watching Roman get further and further away. Something told me I maybe should've followed him, at least asked him whether he wanted to come to my place later and sleep next to each other, but my plans quickly fell apart when I witnessed the one thing I hated seeing most in the world.

In the midst of his angry storm-off, Roman managed to turn his head to allow for his eyes to follow a girl with an exceptionally short skirt passing him by. 

I wanted to throw up-- the hungry look in his eyes made me nauseous. Everything about Roman looking at someone in the way he usually looked at me made me want to burst into tears all over again. 

No matter what I felt for him, one thing would never change; I hated Roman Godfrey. I hated him and the way he made me feel like a stomped bug. Hated the way he'd look at me after he'd make me cum around his fingers, the way he'd stroke my hair away from my forehead with the gentlest touch as I fell asleep, and the way he'd insist on driving me everywhere just to spend some extra time together.

I hated him. I hated this feeling, and especially what it had done to me, my friendships, and my reputation.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

... Thoughts of my reputation went out the window now that Roman was back in my bed. Nothing suggestive, of course-- he was currently half asleep next to me. Even more heartwarming, was the fact that he still wore my two hair ties around his wrist, and I could get a proper look at him now that he was resting. I loved this feeling; we were both wearing the items we had exchanged.

"It looks good on you," he mumbled, tugging me closer with the arm he had around me. "My sweater. I thought I would hate seeing you in it, but it's not so bad."

My body was halfway on top of his, and I couldn't help but giggle as he pressed me closer to his chest. "Why did you think you'd hate it?" I adored the feeling of being completely engulfed in Roman-- the lingering scent of his perfume stuck to the gigantic sweater I was in, and his big arms around me made all my pain feel worth it. 

All up until Roman hummed, eyes still closed as his hands raked through my hair; "You wearing my stuff makes it real... Like you're mine. I don't know whether I want that responsibility,"

I could only sigh, unsure whether I should let my heart sink just yet. Sometimes, it was best to dig around in Roman's mud of a brain before settling for the version he wanted me to believe. "So you would be okay if I was with someone else?"

Roman opened one eye, glancing down at me as he raised a brow. "Are you with someone else?"

"... No,"

"Would you want to be?"

What an odd question; one he didn't need to know the truth of. "Would you care if I did?"

Roman opened his second eye, now scouring my face to check for cracks in my facade. Something told me he wasn't buying it, but that he wasn't about to take any chances. Eventually, he scoffed, rolling his eyes before closing them again; "Fuck off,"

"Fuck off yourself," I mumbled, burying my face in the crook of his neck. I tried to dull out the fact that his arm automatically wrapped itself tighter around me before I spoke once more; "Answer the question."

"Why?" Roman shifted, pulling my whole body on top of his, letting out a satisfied sigh now that all of my weight was laid on him. "It's a stupid question. Why can't we just enjoy this moment?"

He had a point, sure-- I just didn't deem it enough. "I hope you remember that I have a lot on the line here," I placed my hands next to his head, pushing myself up to get a proper look at him. Roman eventually opened his big, green eyes, and they quickly rounded out as they met mine. Everything about looking into his eyes made me want to squeal and pepper him with kisses; this was dangerous territory. I knew had to pull myself together; "I have, like... zero friends because of this. Because I chose you. And you not wanting to take on that responsibility or whatever it was that you called it, makes me feel like crap. You make me feel like crap." 

It was clear that Roman was holding his breath without thinking about it. He stared up at me, unsure what to say; "... All the time?"

"What?"

"Do I make you feel like crap all the time?"

That was certainly a way to spin it-- taken aback, I furrowed my brows as I pondered the question. "Not... all the time, no,"

Roman hummed; he seemed content with that answer. "I know you're upset about the whole Letha thing," he said, his big hands traveling down to grab at my hips as he shifted me to sit in his lap. "I also see that I'm not exactly helping the situation, but... you can't keep blaming me for your decision."

"... Okay," His request was simple enough-- I was ready to adhere to his wishes. "But then you have to say it out loud."

"Say what?"

"That you like me,"

I watched as Roman's eyes widened, his grip on my hips tightening. His whole body tensed up, unsure whether to speak or not. It was clear that he was conflicted about how to tread forward, and I held my breath the second his plush lips parted. Roman sat up, his back now supported by my headboard. Like this, I was sat in his lap with my arms draped around his neck, and he connected our foreheads with a sigh. Roman's words eventually came out like a slow, warm whisper; "I don't know what I feel," 

It felt as though my heart had lodged itself into my throat-- what? I was about to start arguing with him, cursing him out for dragging me through the mud for nothing, all until Roman suddenly reached for my hand. He placed my palm over his heart, his eyes finding mine as he steadied his breathing. "I don't know what I feel," he echoed. "But I know that looking at you makes my heart beat faster. Feel how hard it's going?" He pressed my hand further up against his chest, something about his touch giving away the sincere nature of this gesture. I hadn't seen Roman doing anything this romantic before, and everything was practically perfect all up until he opened his dumb teenage mouth; "I'm serious. It usually only beats like this when I look at pictures of Sydney Sweeney in a swimsuit."

That's it-- I groaned and ripped my hand out of his grip. "Okay, that's enough. You need to leave, it's almost midnight," In an attempt to climb off him, I almost made it out of his lap before his hands grabbed my hips once more, forcing me back down as I yelped. My eyes widened as they met Roman's, watching his signature smirk spread across his lips. 

"Where do you think you're going in my sweater?" he purred, suppressing a chuckle. "My sweater, my rules. Give me a kiss before I leave, at least."

I huffed as I snaked my arms around his neck, feeling his hot breath against my lips. "And why should I kiss you?"

"Because you want to?" Roman didn't care to try to suppress his grin, gently nudging my nose with his as his grip on my waist tightened. His voice dropped, getting airy as he whispered against my lips; "You want to so bad."

Everything about him made the butterflies in my stomach flutter-- it didn't help that his hair was tousled in a classic heartbreaker look, along with how ridiculously soft his lips suddenly looked. 

Roman definitely noticed the reddening of my cheeks, concluding why I had gone mute. "Don't be like that," he teased, not doing a good job with hiding his amusement. "Just kiss me first, for once. Have you noticed that you never initiate anything?"

I held my breath-- "I just... don't know what I'm doing," My confession was unexpected, but it felt nice to get it off my chest. "I don't want you to think I'm clueless."

"But you are?" Roman's chuckle was one of mischief as his hands shamelessly trailed down my body, now grabbing my ass as he pushed me closer to him. "It's not a bad thing. Just means I can program you to my liking."

I didn't even act as though I wanted his hands off of me, giving in to his antics. Something about the way he was holding me made me feel awfully warm-- maybe it was time to take off the sweater? "Tell me what you like, then," I purred, putting my hands on his chest. I figured that if I had gone down this route, I'd continue my path with conviction. 

Roman's smirk only grew, letting out a breathy laugh against my lips as he gave my ass a firm squeeze. "That's my girl," he cooed. "We'll start simple." He nudged his nose against mine once more, his lips parting before his words came out in a hot whisper against mine; "Kiss me."

His words were too alluring to deny-- I leaned forward, my hands carefully laying against his broad shoulder as I kissed him. A sigh of satisfaction escaped Roman, who immediately dug his hands into the flesh of my behind to tug me closer. Everything about the way he was reacting to me reminded me of our first date, and the way he had held and kissed me in the alley when we were hiding from Letha. 

The kiss was slow, almost lazy; something about the moonlight hitting us was making it more intense. It mostly consisted of small, loving pecks, and many pauses to simply smile against one another. I wondered whether he had ever kissed anyone like this before, with a softness I didn't see in him very often. 

It was hard to believe that this was the same guy that had me running around scared for him to prick me with needles. The only thing pricking me right now was the hardening of Roman's cock beneath me. With every twitch, every time his hands dug into my hips in an attempt to grind me against him, I could only grin into the kiss. There wasn't exactly anything sexual about this kiss, but he would always get hard from the smallest little things-- I couldn't help but find pride in it. At least this was another confirmation that he wanted me.

Roman eventually grew frustrated, now trying to rut up against me just for any sort of friction. With that, I grabbed the headboard, raising myself with my knees so that he wouldn't succeed. As he groaned, I had to bite down on my growing smile; the look on his gorgeous face was too damn thrilling.

Roman's eyes were round, his chest sinking with a shaky exhale as a rosy flush lingered in his cheeks. "Anything," he breathed. "Just give me anything. I'll take it."

"Anything?" I wasn't quite sure what he was getting at; "What do you mean?"

His hands grabbed at my waist, signalizing that he wanted me to sit down on his arousal once more-- perhaps that felt like a relief in itself? Roman stared up at me through his brows, his fingers digging into my flesh. "I'm not asking you for sex. I'm being nice. So I'm saying I'll take anything you'll give me... Even the smallest thing," He leaned forward, pressing a wet kiss against my neck which had me losing my breath within seconds, now whispering against my skin; "Just touch me." Roman's needy kisses trailed up my neck, jaw, and cheeks until his breath was hot against my ear. "However you want. Don't be shy, try it out."

Something told me that Roman was secretly into me being a virgin, after all this time of making fun of me for it. However, I wasn't about to say no to the opportunity to explore with the Roman Godfrey, and I eventually sat back down on his arousal, my cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red at the sound of his muffled grunt. 

My hands went up into his soft hair, pressing a kiss against his temple as my fingers stroked through his locks. "There's one thing I might want to try..."

Roman turned to nip at my jaw, his hands traveling back down to my ass. "Go for it,"

I didn't want to give him time to change his mind; my hand in his hair tightened, pulling him away from me with an unexpected roughness. I was about to apologize until I noticed the way Roman closed his eyes, and the way his lips parted in what looked like pleasure. It suddenly dawned on me that he might be the type to like a little pain, not only cause it. However, I wasn't ready to explore that at the moment-- I had another thought to attend to. 

Roman's head lolled back against the headboard as I leaned down to kiss his neck, and it was clear to me that he was enjoying himself. It was only when his fingers dug themselves back into the flesh of my behind that I got the confidence to pull through with my original plan; I sucked down on a particular spot, hard enough to leave a mark.

I didn't need to see his face to know that Roman's eyes were wide open with the realization of what was happening. I was ready for him to push me away, tell me off, tell me to stop-- but his arms only wrapped around me, pulling me closer in a swift motion that had me grinding up against his hard cock, and Roman let out a sigh of pleasure as he let himself be marked with a blooming hickey. 

Something told me I had to be somewhat special for him to allow me to do such a thing, and it quickly dawned on me that I had never felt this happy with anyone before, despite his shortcomings. 

I liked Roman more than I had ever liked anyone before, and I had an inkling that he felt the same. Who knew something so simple could feel so incredibly good?

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Knowing I had Roman wrapped around my finger, despite him not being able to properly say it out loud, had me floating around in my own little bubble. Everything concerning Letha suddenly felt irrelevant, and it wasn't taking up as much space in my mind as before. All I could think about was the way Roman had smiled at me as he passed me in the hall, the red hickey on the side of his neck peeking out past his shirt. The cherry on top of it were the two hair ties he still wore around his wrist-- he was enjoying this, wasn't he?

However, I was yanked back into the absolute shitshow I had caused for myself concerning my girlfriends later that same day.

My previous friends had never done anything more than glare at me from across the hall. Maybe the occasional overdramatic huff when they passed me, an extra eye-roll my way, and so I did my best to not pay it any mind. 

Which is why I was so shocked when the proceeding followed. 

It didn't bother me to sit alone at lunch-- not anymore, at least. I wasn't about to reach out to Roman to ask where he was and whether I could join him either; but just as I picked up my phone, ready put away my nerves and text him, my gaze was diverted from the screen and to the three girls that sat down in front of me.

I held my breath, my eyes widening with the realization that my previous best friends were staring at me with the nastiest looks I had probably ever seen.

Oh no.

Breathing deeply, I did my best to harden my gaze and keep my guard up. "What do you want, Jasmine?" I asked, putting my phone down on the table as I stared down the girl in the middle. Jasmine was the one I had liked the least in our friend group, and I wasn't surprised that she was the one to take action-- the rest of the girls always followed her like dogs, and it had always made me sick; especially now that they were sitting by her like docile animals.

Jasmine cleared her throat, leaning further over the table in an attempt to intimidate me; "We're just here to make you aware of something,"

"Which is...?"

Taken aback by my lack of reaction, Jasmine's eye twitched just slightly as the girls next to her grew more and more uncomfortable. "Letha told me what she saw on your neck. And sitting this close to you, I see it too... Do you not understand how it makes you look?"

There was no way for me to hold back my sarcasm; "How does it make me look? Do indulge, Jas," I couldn't even hold back my grimace at this point. "Why does it even matter to you?"

Jasmine's eye twitched once more, and she slammed her hands against the table with a loud thud. "What upsets Letha, upsets me! I'm just glad I found out what kind of person you truly are, and it brings me immense joy to realize everyone is starting to catch on to the truth as well!"

Despite how hard I attempted to stay neutral, unaffected, and unfazed, I couldn't do anything about the way my heart sunk. I couldn't even muster up anything to counter Jasmine's words, taken aback by the bluntness of my previous friend.

"Letha really wanted to reconcile, do you know that?" Jasmine continued, an evil snicker building in her throat. "But it's fucking disgusting that you walk around like you're proud to be fucking Roman Godfrey, especially when you know how much you've hurt her. Fucking traitor!"

Before I could protest, she reached for my phone which I had left unattended. There was barely any time to pry it out of Jasmine's hands before she stood up and smashed it into the table, the rest of her posse scurrying away from the table before the pieces of glass could hit them. I didn't have to look to know that the whole cafeteria was watching this scene play out; it was only when I heard gasps coming from around us that I truly realized the extent of what had happened.

As the glass from my phone had bounced off the table, the sharp pieces flying in every direction, I had covered my face with my hands. So, when I slowly pried them away from my eyes, turning them around to identify where the stinging of my skin was coming from, my eyes fell on the three pieces of glass lodged into the back of my hands. It wasn't too deep, not enough to scar or cause real damage, but damn-- it burned like crazy. 

With tears in my eyes, I watched as Jasmine snickered, clearly unaffected by the fact that she had caused me physical harm; "We're ready to make your life a living hell," she hissed. "That'll show you. Fucking whore."

Something inside me broke. Usually, I would've fought back, I would've said something-- but I froze. Completely. I had never felt anything like this, the mix of both physical and mental pain turning me to stone.

Fuck. Was this truly how everyone saw me? Nothing more than one of Roman's countless whores?

I knew this would haunt me for the following weeks to come, and I couldn't fight the way my mind shut down. The need to get away overcame me; with shaky steps, I got up from my table, realizing I was about to leave school despite the day not being finished. 

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

I had avoided Roman like the plague for the rest of the day-- I was almost as broken as my phone. I held the pieces in my hands under the dim lights of my desk in my room, nudging the glass around on the table. My phone had completely shattered, now just a heap of technology I held onto for the sake of nostalgia in a deep state of shock.

I kept glancing at my hands, my fingers ghosting over the three thin cuts that had parted my skin. They were thankfully not that grotesque to look at, and I was quite sure I could play it off as a scratch from a particularly large cat if anyone asked. 

Or... so I hoped. 

I wondered whether Letha knew about what had happened. Did she condone it? Had she been the one who ordered Jasmine and her gang to mess with me? Everything about this situation made my head spin-- Choosing Roman might've been the wrong decision. I kept thinking about an alternative universe in which I had never asked him to kiss me in the first place, or one where I had told Letha about my feelings for her cousin before it was too late.

It dawned on me that I had mostly likely made the wrong choice-- how was I supposed to deal with this?

Just as I was about to toss the remnants of my phone into the nearby bin, I heard a few knocks at my window which made me turn towards the sound. There he was, the last rays of today's sunlight making the bronze hues in his hair shine through; Roman tapped against the glass once more, eyes round with an emotion I couldn't piece together from afar.

I walked towards the window and opened it, leaning against the frame as I spoke; "What are you doing here?" My tone was sharper than expected-- seeing him didn't exactly make me feel any better.

"You haven't answered my messages," Roman didn't seem to be in a hurry about getting off my roof, making himself comfortable by sitting down by the window. "All day. Radio silence. I'm not really used to that from you, so... just checking to see whether you're having a stroke or something."

I did my best not to roll my eyes; "A stroke?"

"I don't know?" Roman shrugged, his green eyes never leaving mine. "What other explanation is there for a girl not answering me?"

I grimaced as I watched his expression. It was impossible to push down the intense feelings of frustration when I looked at him, all my love for him manifesting back to its usual hate-- I wouldn't have been in this situation if I hadn't met him. This was technically just as much his fault as mine. 

Why did he look so confused? It suddenly hit me that he was being dead serious; he didn't get it at all. He genuinely couldn't find another reason for my absence. "Oh," was what I managed to say, clearing my throat as I sat down on the window sill. "Have you not heard?" 

Roman blinked twice, clearly lost as he looked up at me. "Heard what?"

My eyes darted down to my hands, which I had covered with the sleeves of Roman's sweater without even thinking about it. "I thought everyone would be talking about it," I mumbled. "I guess that's a relief, then."

"What are you talking about?" The green of his eyes nearly swallowed me, and I found a tiny trace of genuine concern behind them, so miniscule I could barely notice it. "What happened?"

I wanted to disappear into a heap of nothing; it was so embarrassing that I had let this happen. My pride was definitely trying to choke the life out of me. "My phone broke," I breathed, automatically reaching for the hem of the sweatshirt out of nervous habit-- I felt my cheeks flush, nervous to be revisiting the moment that had haunted me all day.

Roman's brows furrowed, unsure how to react; "You made it sound like something really bad had happened. I could buy you a new one, no problem," He watched me pick at the sweatshirt, now reaching out for my hands to stop my destructive fidgeting.

I let out the breath I had been holding the second our fingers intertwined, feeling the roughness of his hands against mine. My eyes rested on the black hair ties he still wore around his wrist, a blooming warmth igniting in my chest and wading through all my anger. I was so swept up in the moment, comforted by the way he squeezed my hands twice, that I didn't catch the moment the sleeves of the sweater bunched up and revealed the cuts on the back of my hands. "You don't need to buy me a new phone, don't be ridiculous," I said, watching a single strand of his brown hair slowly fall over his eyes as he glanced down. "I'd feel bad--"

"What's this?" Roman's grip around my hands tightened, now bringing them up to his face. 

It felt as though my breath had gotten lodged in my throat as I watched Roman's widening green eyes scan the surface of my hands. His brows drew together once more, thumbs swiping over the unhealed wounds. The touch made me hiss, attempting to get out of his grip, but to no avail. "It's the neighbour's cat," I tried. "I bent down to pet it, and--"

"This is not from a cat," Roman's gaze darted up to meet mine, suddenly a lot more intense than usual. "I'll ask you again, what happened?"

I tried to squirm out of his hold once more; "It's not important, Roman... Forget it, please. Actually, I'm going to have to ask you to leave--"

"Tell me,"

"No, seriously, drop it! Can't you just go?!--"

Roman's grip around my hands tightened further, almost to the point of making me wince. "Tell me," His pupils widened at an eerie rate, transfixed on mine. It felt as though his words were echoing through my head, and it didn't take long before I suddenly felt as though my inner monologue froze over.

And before I knew it, my mouth had a mind of its own; "They broke my phone,"

"Who?"

I really, really tried to fight it. Getting Roman involved in this drama was certainly not ideal, and I did my best to push away the urge to tell him; why was it so strong, all of a sudden? It almost felt as though he was controlling my mind, but it was ridiculous to even think so-- that was obviously impossible. Right? 

I eventually got around to answering; "Jasmine," 

"... Who?" Roman was beginning to sound like a really confused owl.

"Jasmine," I echoed. "Letha's friend. She brought a few girls over to my table and smashed my phone. Called me a whore."

Roman was silent for a few seconds, his face going unnaturally blank. "These cuts are from your phone?"

"Yeah,"

"And she did it because you're with me?"

"... Yeah," Did he just insinuate that we were together? I held my breath, unsure why my mouth wasn't adhering to my orders-- I so desperately wanted to point it out, but I physically couldn't. What on earth was happening?

Roman hummed, his grip around my hands loosening. "What else did she say?"

I blinked several times in an attempt to get out of the trance-like state I found myself in, but nothing seemed to be working as long as Roman's gaze was locked on me. "She said she's gonna make my life a living hell," As I sniffled, I realized tears were pooling in my eyes. I squeezed them shut, shaking my head to try to snap out of it once more. "I- It's fine, though." It dawned on me that the trick was to not look at him-- I finally started feeling like myself again. "I just need to talk to Letha and check out the options for a truce, or whatever."

As I dared to open my eyes, I watched his blank face. Something about the lack of reaction was unsettling, on the border of uncomfortable, and it almost made me want to squirm. It was in this silence that a thick, red drop of blood suddenly made its way down Roman's nose, and he didn't react when it met his lips. It was almost as though he had frozen to his place on my roof, and I couldn't remember the last time he had blinked.

My eyes widened, concern filling my body. "You're bleeding," I breathed, trying to get my hands out of his. "Let me get something for you, Roman, it's gonna run down to your shirt!--"

Abruptly, he got up with a quickness I hadn't seen in him before, still not saying a word. Suddenly, I couldn't help but notice it-- the hickey on the right side of his throat. One he wasn't even trying to cover up. Despite how much Roman kept denying wanting to be with me, here he was, getting up to do God knows what whilst quite literally baring my mark on his skin.

I watched him, my brows drawing together in complete and utter confusion. "Roman?" Calling out his name didn't seem to do anything; he let the stream of blood run down his chin, now dripping down onto his shirt. I could only look up at him, unsure why he was acting like this.

Finally, Roman spoke; "Living hell, you say?" His voice was low, threatening-- it was suddenly clear to me that he had gotten a very dark idea.

These sorts of proclamations coming from a guy who had an affinity for pricking girls with needles genuinely concerned me. I got up from the window sill, ready to climb out onto the roof to join him. "Come on, Roman, let's just talk!--"

It was as though he was on auto-control, rushing to the edge of the roof before turning around to climb down. My heart beat hard in my chest as I nearly lunged out of my window, hoping to reach him in time. "Hey, where are you going?!" 

I didn't make it-- Roman had already managed to land on the grass beneath him, his long limbs an apparent advantage, and he was now storming down my lawn towards his car. 

"Roman!" I yelled, crouching down on the edge of my roof; this was definitely not looking good. My mind kept racing as I gave up trying to catch up to him, burying my face in my hands. 

I was screwed. I was so screwed. 

(a/n: check out PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9 if you haven't!! thank you for reading, more to come!!<33)

[k-zuzu]

Jeongin hard thoughts?

Imagine you and jeongin were having sex when he finished first so you ended up faking an orgasm. A few days later he overhears you telling a friend over the phone abt this. When you wake up next to him the next morning you find yourself tied to your headboard, unable to escape. You are completely naked and jeongin comes in. He eats you out and forces orgasm after orgasm out of you until you are crying and he is completely relentless. He finally let's up after your 15th orgasm and you are relived, until you see him take the vibrator from the drawer and turn it to the highest and holding it against your clit while he fucks you coaxing about 20 more orgasms leaving you feeling exhausted. He says he only did this to pay you back for the orgasm he owed you.

If you do this, could u pls tag me? <3333

스트레이키즈

yang jeongin 𖹭 afab!reader

what i owe you.

synopsis: an insecure jeongin wants nothing other than to make you feel good.

content: explicit sexual content (mdni), pwp, afab!female reader, established relationship, pet names (babe, baby, innie), dubious consent but it all works out, mentioned faked orgasm, yandere!jeongin if you put glasses and squint, they have a safeword but the reader doesn't use it, not proofread, lowercase intended.

explicit warnings: dom!jeongin, he is a little mean/aggressive but sweet and calm?, cunnilingus, fingering, edging, overstimulation, using a vibrator, bondage/eagle

zuzu's notes: highlow! sorry this took si long, it was in my drafts for awhile. idk if it's okay that i answered your ask or if you wanted me to just make a post and then tag you but... well, amazing ask, girliepop! i love the idea so much, but you made it sound conplwte idk what to add, i hope you enjoy anyway hehe. writing this kinda reminded me of seven by jungkook ft. latto, so maybe that's a song rec while reading this lol. ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

main masterlist.

"don't get me wrong, i love jeongin..."

i.n didn't intend to eavesdrop. he arrived home a few hours early to surprise you, but his curiosity piqued when he heard your soft voice when you were supposedly supposed to be the only one he would come home to. as he crept closer to the door of your shared bedroom, expecting the worst that he pushed to the back of his mind,

he knew that you were talking about him. he let out a breath of relief when he saw that you were on the phone. he wanted to know more but also he felt guilty for violating your privacy... it was your shared home anyway, he felt somewhat justified in his behavior.

"i guess he has been a little stressed lately and needed a quick release. i just had to fake mine,"

i.n's heart dropped to the pit of stomach. fake? he felt a gnawing sensation. as he listened closely, they prayed that you were referring to something else and not your intimate moments together. the uncertainty was weighing heavily on his mind and he felt a sense of insecurity about your pleasure. he wondered when else you would fake and he didn't realize. your words continued.

"otherwise... i don't know, he could have been embarrassed since he could always make me release before him... it's my first time having to fake it—"

without warning, i.n burst into the bedroom and loudly announced himself. "babe, i'm home!" he exclaimed, immediately capturing your attention. he proceeded to remove his shoulder bag and neatly comb his hair, all while putting on a convincing performance that he had just arrived.

"oh!" you exclaimed, hanging up the phone and rushing to put on your slippers and greeting i.n with a warm, loving hug that i.n struggled to return properly. "you're early, baby!" you said cheerily, planting a kiss on his cheek. "how was practice?"

"practice was a little tiring," he forced a smile. "i wanted to take you out to dinner."

"oh, really? let me get ready then—" you pulled away from him, looking around before heading toward the closet.

"ah, babe," he called out, following you into the bedroom and wrapped his arms around you from behind. "maybe after dinner, you'd wanna...?"

"oh," you paused. a bead of sweat dripped down i.n's forehead as he awaited your response. he felt a little nervous but he wanted to make up for your lost orgasm tonight until he heard your response; "maybe not tonight, baby." you smiled and patted his hand around you as you searched for an outfit.

"ah, okay, then..." i.n promptly removed his arms around your body and decided to wash up as well.

dinner went by quickly and quietly, probably like last night. i.n couldn't get the thought of your phone conversation out of his head and decided to plan something for the next morning.

"dinner was amazing, baby," you kissed his cheek as you opened the door to your apartment. "we haven't been able to eat out in weeks."

"that's why i wanted to surprise you..." he gave you a sweet smile.

the night ended peacefully, it was dark and quiet, the bedroom was well ventilated, and you were actually a bit chilly, so you cuddled up to i.n's broad form. curse you for being so cozy that night, you ended up having the deepest and best sleep of your life until you woke up to a sensation.

your eyes fluttered open and you look down to see i.n's head between your legs. slowly, your mind woke up along with your body and you grew alarmed, shutting your legs together, only to not. they were tied down to the foot of the bed, you tried to move your arms but they were tied to the end of the bed. "jeongin-" you rasped out.

he lifted his head from your legs, "oh, you're awake." he said blankly and wiped his bottop lip with his thumb as he sat up.

"what are you doing? untie me," you whined as your arms and legs struggled to escape the restrains.

"shh, baby, calm down..." he shuffled up, legs straddling your stomach as he leaned down and placed a tender kiss on your cheek, then your soft lips. he pulled away and stared into your eyes. "i'm simply making up for a lost orgasm the other night."

"babe, i have a meeting to get to,"

"tell them you're sick." he went back down and laid his tongue flatly on your clit, kitten licking it, earning a soft moan from you. "i'm sure you will be soon."

"baby, please-" you cried when he fit two of his thick fingers knuckle-deep effortlessly into your pussy, you were so wet from arousal and his saliva that he didn't struggle. he curled his fingers, hitting your g-spot repeatedly. "ah, baby-" you moaned out. fuck. he hadn't given you this type of attention in months, maybe it was okay to call in sick today. you were a bit overwhelmed and you could only move your hips against his hand.

"you like that?" i.n asked quietly as he watched your hips rock against his hand, eyes flickering to look at your already fucked out expression. "you must really like it..." he whispered and pulled his fingers out.

"innie!" you whined out, your disappointment was short-lived when he began lapping at your cunt again, sucking and eating you like there was no tomorrow. "don't stop like that..." you moaned, you could feel your climax building up as he sucked harshly on your clit and licked your hole. he let out a low moan as he felt your cum build up on his tongue.

"mmm, babe, you taste amazing. i can't believe i missed out on this for months..."

slowly, you caught your breath, but you felt his tongue on you again. "ah, innie, stop- i- can't..." you whined, moving your hips away from him.

"ah ah, quit moving, babe. i need to make you feel good." jeongin grabbed your hips in place and continued his job. you whined in his grasp, helpless. "if you really wanted to stop, you'd say the safeword, no?" he put his middle finger and began fingering you aggressively. you blubbered as you felt another orgasm building. "come on baby," he said, voice low as he quickened his pace, finger unrelenting, his thumb moved to rub your clit and you creamed around his finger.

"ah, baby... please..." you moaned out, eyes fluttering shut. you hadn't had to consecutive amazing orgasms forced out of you liked that before. "please..." you blubbered.

"please what?" jeongin asked, his finger began pumping inside you once more, this time he fit in his pointer and his ring, he pushed them in so deep you felt the cold silver of his rings against your folds. you whined out at the sensation. "please what baby?"

you were left speechless, your voice exhausted from the relentless stream of orgasms jeongin had wrung from you. his fingers continued to work their magic, adding another orgasm to your already impressive tally, he began to eat you out once more. and more. and more. this continued for about 10 times before he finally stopped, pulling away from your quivering pussy and sucking the evidence of your cum from his fingers.

"mhgh... baby, are you done now...?" you asked weakly, your voice barely audible. your eyes fluttered open as jeongin stood up and walked towards the bedside table, pulling out a vibrator with a wicked glint in his eye. your eyes widened.

you had a long day ahead of you.

[waffle-spam]

Being the Big Spoon (Lyney)

I saw a magic siblings edit and had a sudden urge to write :P

Scenario: Holding them to sleep when they're usually the ones holding you

Contents: Fluff, I think this counts as hurt/comfort, established relationship, me trying to pick apart the characters brain and how they think, no gender specified

Definitely using this scenario with Xiao too lol.

In usual wafflespam fashion this was written on my phone as I was falling asleep so idk hopefully it makes sense / is in character?

Lyney was supposed to be the protector.

With his siblings, with being the next Father of the House of the Hearth, with everyone.

It was late and Lynette and Freminet were out on a mission, which always had him feeling anxious. The siblings were a package deal. They always did missions together. They worked best together, always covered each other's weaknesses with their strengths, always bright back results. Of course he knew they were perfectly strong and capable without him, but they haven't been separated like this -- him safe at home while his family was out there where he couldn't do anything if something were to go wrong -- since Lynette got her vision first and started going on the more dangerous missions without him. An integral, inseparable part of himself was out there, exposed to danger without him being able to preserve it.

But he couldn't think about that now. He had to get some rest because he had his own mission early the next day.

Normally when things were this bad his siblings would rest beside him, their presence a grounding force for him.

But right now he didn't have them. He had you.

He wrapped his arms around you, resting his head on top of yours, as if trying to physically shield you from the world.

If he couldn't be out there protecting his siblings, at least he could protect you like this. The thought seemed to appease his worries to some degree.

He was caught off guard when he felt you adjust yourself as the two of you slept, now being held close under the crook of your neck instead of him feeling you curled up against his chest.

"You're shivering," you whisper to him, and he realizes only now that you've pointed it out.

"How observant..." He hummed, flashing what he hoped looked like a cheeky smile, his composure and stage confidence quickly returning as Lyney called upon it with practiced ease. "Nothing ever gets past you, does it?"

You seemed to frown at that.

"If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine..." You say, long accustomed to his tendency to hide his problems away. If he wasn't ready, he wasn't ready. "But I want to try something."

Gentle hands rested on his upper arms now, the repeated circular movements of your thumbs against him coaxing the loud thoughts in his head to fade to a dull static. Still there, ever-present prickling at the back of his mind, but more manageable now.

He was enveloped in warmth, the very same warmth he was always trying to preserve for others. The very same warmth he didn't dare set aside for himself if it meant someone he cared about would go cold.

His siblings often tried to talk to him, to get him to open up, but some things he just couldn't share.

For the first time in a long while, he was the one receiving comfort instead of giving it. Maybe it was because he was too tired to take on the caretaker role right now. Maybe it was the sudden flood of calm that made him not want to get out of your arms.

Slowly, tentatively, he let himself relax against you. He let himself get lost in your heartbeat, your gentle breathing, your soft whispers that he was barely awake to register.

You can feel how he physically melts against you, his warm breaths against your shoulder evening out as he finally fell asleep.

---

I really didn't know how to end this I'm sorry 🫠

[wheeboo]

in bloom | kim mingyu

SYNOPSIS. in which you struggle to tell your husband something that can make or break your relationship. PAIRING. idol!husband!kim mingyu x afab!reader (ft. best friend!seulgi) GENRE. fluff, established relationship, idol au, pregnancy au, comfort WARNINGS. reader is pregnant and has female reproductive organs, vague mentions of intimate relations, mentions of fatigue and throwing up, terms of endearment, kissing WORD COUNT. 2.5k

requested from anon: idol!husband!mingyu x reader where you find out ur pregnant, and youre nervous to tell mingyu <3

notes: this is my second time ever writing a pregnancy au (first time on this blog), so... i hope u enjoy! i had too much fun with this lol

Being in the bathroom has never been this suffocating before. It's embarrassing, because literally anyone can walk in and hear the way you've been hacking over the toilet the past couple of days just like at your workplace, but the sudden bursts of nausea leaves you with no other option. You take a deep breath, attempting to compose yourself, and finally manage to stand up straight.

The little stick trembles in your hand, and as you peer down at the result, you swear you can feel the world around you completely stop. The two unmistakable lines are staring down at you through the small window of the test. You blink a few times, shaking the test even, as if hoping the lines will disappear or change, but they only remain.

It takes a moment for the reality to sink in. You're going to be a parent. A million thoughts race through your mind, and amidst the chaos, one question stands out: how do you share this with Mingyu?

Your husband is an idol, for God's sake. You've already seen the intensity of his schedule, the rigorous demands of his career, and the constant scrutiny from the public that has negatively affected other celebrities too. It feels as if you're going to be dropping a bombshell down on him.

You both always been careful when being intimate. And though you've had your conversations together about what it would be like to start a family, you never imagined it would happen quite like this, right at this moment when your husband has been reaching the peak of his career and is constantly in the spotlight. The timing couldn't be more unexpected, yet here you are, holding the proof of the little life growing within you.

Bringing the test out of sight, you splash some water on your face, taking a moment to collect yourself, before calmly making your way out of your bathroom, even with the anxious pounding of your heart feeling like it's bouncing off the walls of your place. And then suddenly, you're met with Seulgi running up to you from your living room.

"Well?" she asks, hands clasping together in excitement and an eager smile spreading across her face.

You turn towards her, and for some reason seeing the way your best friend's eyes are literally glowing with curiosity and anticipation almost makes you want to pull her in for a hug and sob into her shoulders. But you can't do that𑁋you're still struggling to process everything.

Instead, you take the pregnancy test out and show it to her.

Seulgi's eyes widen, and her hands fly to her mouth in disbelief.

"No way! Are you serious?" she whispers loudly, staring down at the test just to make sure.

"Yeah, I..." You take a deep breath. "I'm pregnant."

Seulgi just squeals, unable to contain her joy. She pulls you into a tight hug that makes you let out a groan at the sudden pressure over your tired body, yet you feel a sense of relief and happiness sharing this moment with someone close.

"Sorry! Oh my gosh, I feel like crying. This is𑁋I'm so happy for you!" Seulgi exclaims as she lets you go, holding your shoulders at arm's length and bouncing up and down happily.

The two of you share a knowing smile with each other. And as Seulgi catches sight of the way your smile doesn't seem as bright as hers, the way it doesn't seem to reach to your ears, she takes a step back, concern etching across her face.

Seulgi takes your hands in hers. "Are you okay? How are you feeling?"

You let out a sigh. "I'm... I'm just overwhelmed, you know? It's a lot to take in, especially considering Mingyu's schedule and everything."

Seulgi squeezes your hands reassuringly. "I'm sure he will be over the moon, Y/N. He loves you more than anything."

Her words seem to offer comfort, but a lingering worry tugs at the edges of your thoughts. Seulgi senses your unease and pulls you into this time, a gentle hug.

"Listen," she says softly, rubbing her hands up and down your back comfortingly. "Mingyu is your husband. He loves you, and this is something you both have talked about before, right? You both will figure things out, so don't worry too much, okay?"

Feeling a bit more reassured, you manage a small smile. "You're right. I... I just need to find the right time to tell him."

When you both pull away from each other, Seulgi just grins.

"You'll know when the time is right, Y/N," she says, taking another glance down at the test out of excitement once again. "I'm going to be an auntie and spoil that little one rotten!"

You only let out a laugh and playfully shove her away, a lightness in your heart gradually replacing the worry in your bones.

It's been hard trying to conceal away the fatigue whenever you and Mingyu wake up together in the morning and the subtle changes in your eating habits, but you've managed to keep it under wraps so far, constantly playing it off as stress or tiredness, though you do marvel at how your husband is just a little more oblivious than you thought.

Seulgi has been nagging you almost every day to take it easy and to share the news with Mingyu. And as the days pass, the weight of the unspoken truth feels heavier, and you realise that the longer you wait, the more difficult it becomes to find the perfect moment.

So you decide to act on it. You venture to the grocery store to buy some ingredients, and prepare a romantic, intimate dinner at home. You hope that it could help clear away the cloud of anxiety running through your mind and encourage you to finally tell him once and for all.

As the savoury aroma wafts through your home, you set the table with care, ensuring everything is just right. And when you overhear the familiar clicks of the locks at the front door, you take a deep breath, your heart beating a little faster, and slowly make your way to greet him.

Mingyu walks in his almost disheveled glory, a charming mess that somehow makes him even more endearing. His tall, strong frame moves with a grace that seems effortless. You can tell the day has left its mark on him, evident in the slight weariness around his eyes, but there's an unmistakable warmth and charm that lingers in the way he carries himself.

When he catches sight of you, his eyes lock onto yours, and a smile spreads across his face, seemingly erasing any signs of fatigue.

"Hey, beautiful," he greets, closing the door behind him and coming up to you to place a sweet kiss to your lips, like he always does. Then he gestures towards the table. "What's all this?"

A shy smile plays on your lips as you take his hand and lead him to the table. "I thought we could have a special dinner tonight. Just the two of us."

He quirks a teasing eyebrow up, eyes scanning over your face. "Did I forget something?"

You shake your head. "No, you didn't forget anything, honey. I... just missed spending some quality time with you. That's all."

Mingyu's expression softens, and he pulls out a chair for you. God, you love him. "Well, I'm all yours tonight."

As the two of you begin to share the carefully prepared meal, the tension in the room slowly dissipates. He tells you about the recent preparations for his group's performance at an upcoming award show, and you update him on all the latest gossip at your workplace.

You love the sense of normalcy returning to your evening and being with him after such an eventful day. Yet within you, the anticipation courses through your veins beneath the surface of your composed act.

It becomes a bit too hard to handle that you have to dismiss yourself to the bathroom to calm yourself down.

Your hands clutch the countertop as you take a deep breath and lock eyes with yourself in the mirror. The reality of the situation dawns on you anew, the nerves doing nothing but making you overthink. It's a blend of excitement and anxiety, and it makes you tighten your grip on the cold surface of the sink.

You look down at your pocket, where the pregnancy test is safely tucked away. You know you can't postpone this moment any longer.

You've imagined the two of you as parents so many times𑁋waking up together and preparing breakfast for a little one, taking family trips, and experiencing the joy of watching your child grow before your eyes. Envisioning this kind of future with Mingyu has always been a dream, and now that it's becoming a reality, the knot in your stomach tightens.

When you head out of the bathroom, you catch sight of your husband already tidying up and washing your dishes under the dim kitchen light. And for some reason the sight alone is enough to send a surge of warmth through you and make your heart leap out of your chest. You married this man, decided to devote your entire life to him despite the complications with his career, and now, you're about to share a piece of both of you with him.

He dries his hands upon noticing you coming up. Then he looks at you with those warm, loving eyes, and it hits you like a wave𑁋the realisation that this incredible man, who has been your rock, your love, and your partner in all aspects of life, is going to be the father of your child. Just in that moment alone, you swear you fell in love with him all over again.

"Hi, angel." He reaches for your hand, interlocking your fingers together and you can feel his wedding ring pressing against your skin, giving you a playful twirl before pulling you into his arms. "What's going on in that beautiful mind of yours?"

You smile softly, feeling the warmth of his embrace. Mingyu has this uncanny ability to make you feel safe, and right now, you need that more than ever.

"Nothing, just..." You bring a thumb up to brush over his skin. "Thinking about you."

Mingyu giggles heartily, pushing back some hair away from your face. "Oh, yeah?" His voice is low and husky, sending shivers down your spine. "Hmm, is it good thoughts?”

You only give him a sly grin. "Always."

Mingyu just pulls you even closer, his hands making their way down to hold you lightly at the waist.

"Good, because..." He leans in, pressing a kiss to the spot behind your ear. "I've been thinking about you too."

You laugh softly, relishing the feeling of his warm breath against your skin. When he pulls away, your gazes meet together, and you take a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. This is it𑁋the moment you've been waiting for.

"Can you close your eyes for me?" You whisper, a nervous but hopeful smile playing on your lips.

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. "What's this, a surprise?"

You nod, trying to conceal the trembling excitement in your voice. "Just close your eyes, honey. Trust me."

He chuckles but obliges anyway, shutting his eyes and wearing a curious grin. You take a moment to compose yourself, feeling the weight of the moment settle on your shoulders. With a deep breath, you retrieve the pregnancy test from your pocket and carefully place it into his hand.

"Okay, you can open your eyes now."

Mingyu blinks his eyes open, and as he sees the pregnancy test in his hand, his expression transforms from curiosity to bewilderment. He looks down at the test, then back at you, his eyes widening with realisation.

"I𑁋is this...?"

"Yeah, we're..." Your words trail off for a second, and you swallow down the lump in your throat. "We're going to be parents."

Mingyu's eyes widen even further, and for a moment, he seems frozen in place. The seconds only continue stretch, feeling like an eternity in the utter silence of your place. You watch the flicker of emotions on his face𑁋surprise, confusion, shock, joy, and a hint of nervousness.

Then, as if a switch is flipped, a radiant smile breaks across his features. Before you can say something, you find yourself being lifted up and sat on the island of your kitchen with Mingyu standing between your legs.

"W-We're going to have a baby?" he stammers, as if the test wasn't enough to convince him and he needs to hear it from your own lips.

You cup his face with your hands. "Yes. We're... we're going to be parents, Gyu."

That's all it takes him for to kiss you, a gentle yet fervent kiss that feels enough to knock the air out of your lungs. Smiles emerge on both of your faces, laughter leaves your lips as he peppers kisses now all over your face.

"I can't believe it," he says between kisses, before pulling away to look at you. There's something a bit different in the way he's looking at you now, something deeper, more profound. "You're carrying our baby. I'm... I'm going to be a dad."

He gently rests his forehead against yours, his hands still cupping your face.

"We're going to be parents," he repeats, savouring the words on his tongue. He knows that phrase will be repeating in his head for the longest time. "I can't believe how lucky I am."

You kiss him again. The kitchen seems to glow with warmth and love as Mingyu holds you close, refusing to pull away anytime soon.

A pair of large arms sneak around you, the soft light of the morning seeping in through the small window and bathing your bathroom in an relaxing, ethereal glow. Mingyu nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his familiar scent wrapping around you comfortingly.

"Good morning, my love," he whispers, lips grazing against your ear.

You dry your face with a towel, letting out a contented sigh as you relax into his embrace. "Good morning."

As the quietness of the morning takes over, you feel Mingyu's hand drift a little lower, before stopping right at the hem of your shirt.

"Can I?" he asks carefully.

You can't help but grin. "You know I'm not even showing yet, right?"

Mingyu just smiles meekly against your skin. "I know. I just want to feel close to the both of you."

So with a nod, you feel his hand make its way under your shirt and gently rest on your stomach. It's only been a day since you've told him, yet he traces over your skin with such tenderness that it makes your heart swell with right out of your chest. He's always been this gentle with you, treating you with the utmost care and love as if you're the most delicate treasure he's ever held. And now, knowing that he's going to extend that same love to the tiny life growing within you, it brings heat to your eyes.

You lean back into him, relishing the warmth of his touch.

As his hand comes to a stop, he places his head on your shoulder. "This is real, isn't it?"

You cup over his hand with yours, following the way he's caressing over your stomach. "Very real."

Mingyu presses a soft kiss to the nape of your neck, and one to your shoulder blade.

"I love you," he murmurs into your skin. "I love you both so much."

His words linger in the hushed bathroom, and you both stand there for a little while, simply basking in the warmth of the moment knowing that your little family is now in bloom.

"I love you too," You finally reply, turning so that you can face him. "We love you too."

Mingyu just pulls you close and kisses you once more. He will never get tired of hearing that.

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts

[kmt123whatsthetea]

No books for a prankster

George Weasley x reader

Requested by: @adinamayb2

Request gist: “5 foot Ravenclaw bookworm and George have hardcore sex”

A/N: Thank you for the request! For this fic, I decided that George would try to take the reader's mind off of books because he's jealous, if that makes sense (it will make sense when read). I don't know why it's taken me longer than usual to write fanfics (I think I'm just going mad yk). Two book related fanfics one after the other, I hope you guys like books lol.

T/W: Unprotected sex, Hardcore sex, Very jealous George, mentions of bondage (but no bondage), Teasing, Underwear gag, Creampie

George hated books.

Sure he didn't mind reading every now and again, but when those books took his girlfriend’s attention off of him, he hated them. When he suggested a date, it was always “Just another chapter, Georgie, I promise” or “This new book I got is so good, let me tell you all about it”.

George was happy that you had a reading hobby, but he missed your attention. Sometimes he felt guilty for being jealous of your books, until that horny little devil on his shoulder reminded him that the more you read, the less time you were in his bed.

He could feel his patience slipping every time he saw you with a book. He missed those days where he would sneak into the Ravenclaw common room and kidnap you for a date without having to worry about you losing your page in your newest reading material (he knew he was being dramatic, but he could help it).

One evening, he snuck into the Ravenclaw common room and found you sitting in front of the fire with your nose stuck in a book. He edged his way closer until he was sitting on the sofa next to you.

“Reading again, love?”

You were, but his breath on the shell of your ear made it difficult to move on to the next word.

“Georgie, you know I like reading. What are you doing here so late anyway?”

“I missed my favourite girl. I sleep better when i'm next to you…or inside you”

You turned your attention back to your book, hiding your blush within the pages. George adjusted so that he was laying down, his head on your lap. His eyes travelled up your chest and to your eyes, which were still avoiding his.

“I came all this way to see you, baby, are you just gonna ignore me?”

His teasing pout, like the one he was wearing at that very moment, could either be very cute or very. George took matters into his own hands and took the book from you. He stood up from the sofa and put the book down before reaching his hands out to you.

When your hot, horny boyfriend offers you his hand, would you really decline it?

You take his hand and let him pull you up, his tall frame towering over you. Dating a boy who was a good foot taller than you came with serious advantages. If you wanted a book from a high shelf, all you'd have to do is ask. If he was tired, he could easily lean his head on yours like a boney pillow.

George pulled you up to your dorm room, having familiarised himself with the route from his countless visits. Once you were both inside and the door was shut, you were his.

His hands pulled at your school shirt, grunting when you reminded him not to break the buttons again. When he managed to strip you down to your underwear, he picked you up in his arms before quite literally throwing you onto the bed.

He pulled his own shirt over his head before moving his hands to his belt. His eyes stayed on yours, a predatory grin painted on his face.

“You waste all your attention on those silly books. They can’t make you feel as good as I can, baby”

George pushed your legs apart and got in between them. He brought his hand down to rub your clit through your underwear. With every moan and squirm, his smile grew wider. His other hand presses on your stomach, stopping you from squirming anymore.

When you kept squirming, he brought his hand down on your thigh in a sharp slap.

“If you keep squirming, I’ll tie your hands to the bed posts. Are you gonna be a good girl and stop squirming?”

“I’ll be good Georgie, I promise”

He gave out a satisfied grunt and pulled your underwear down your legs. George pushed his boxers down enough to pull out his cock. He pushed his tip against your clit, smearing his precum on the throbbing bundle of nerves.

George pushed his tip in before pulling back out. He always enjoyed teasing you.

“On second thought, maybe I should leave you with your books”

He grinned when you whined. It's not like he would just leave you high and dry now, he loved being inside of you too much.

“Please Georgie, I don’t want those books, I want you”

George loved hearing how much you loved and needed him (even if he did use teasing as a leverage to hear it). He thrust his cock inside you fully, his hand covering your mouth when you let out a scream in pleasure.

Instead of removing his hand, he looked down at your underwear on the mattress next to your thigh and got an evil idea. He picked the discarded underwear up and removed his hand from your mouth.

“Open up, baby”

You opened your mouth obediently for George, letting him push the fabric into your mouth. When he knew that no sounds would slip past the fashioned gag, he pulled out and rammed his cock back in. His hips slammed against yours with each thrust, marking your skin red.

His hands gripped your ankles, pushing them up against your chest and folding you into a mating press. His thrusts didn’t relent, pounding into you with an animalistic passion.

His fingers came down to pinch your clit, rubbing it in messy circles.

“Does my baby wanna cum all over my cock?”

The gag muffled your pleas. The most you could do was nod like a woman possessed.

“Alright then baby, make a mess on my cock and I’ll cover that sweet little pussy in my cum”

That bad snapped, and you came hard on his cock. Spots filled your vision and your screams somehow surpassed the fabric gagging your mouth.

“Such a good girl for me, looking so pretty with my cock deep inside you”

George pulls his cock out, pumping it with his fist. After a couple more pumps, his cum sprayed over your swollen folds. He moved his hips a little closer, his tip dragging along your mound and leaving a sticky trail.

His hand reached towards your mouth, pulling the crumpled underwear from your mouth. His other hand came to cradle your cheek, a tender touch after a hot and heavy session.

“You always do so well for me, my pretty baby”

[weirdkpopgirl]

Embrace | Haechan Imagine #8

Title: Embrace

Genre: Fluff, slight angst

Warnings: vague mentions of reader struggling with insomnia

Word Count: 616

Author's Note: This story was inspired by my bad habit of not going to sleep, even when I'm tired lol. It's not like I do it on purpose, but my mind just cries out for a distraction sometimes. I don't know how to explain it. Anyway if any of you can relate to this, I hope this story can give you some comfort ^ ^

─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─

In the quiet space of your apartment, you were sprawled out on the couch as your thumb absentmindedly scrolled through the world of social media. Every so often, your eyes subconsciously flickered to the time on the left corner of the screen, reminding you that one a.m. was now closely bordering two.

The back of your mind was screaming at you to go to sleep, thinking of all the things you were supposed to do the following day. Yet, the apprehension of not being able to fall asleep made you hesitate. The fear wasn’t large, but enough to keep you trapped in the scrolling abyss, a dance between fatigue and distraction.

Eventually, you heard the soft echoes of your boyfriend’s slippers padding against the wooden floor, drawing him closer to where you were stationed. Rubbing his eyes, he approached you with a slight frown on his lips. 

“Baby, it’s late. Why are you still up?” Haechan murmured with a touch of concern in his voice. 

Although he was accustomed to being awake in the odd hours due to his work, seeing you deviate from a regular sleep schedule puzzled him.

You glanced up at him with weary eyes. “Just can’t seem to quiet my mind,” you muttered with a small shrug.

Haechan sighed as he witnessed you fight back a yawn. He moved to sit beside you for a moment and gently removed your phone from your hands and set it down on the coffee table.

“Come on, let’s go to bed,” he said, taking your hand in his. “Maybe I can help you relax.”

Reluctantly, you gave in and allowed him to guide you to the bedroom. The subtle glow of the lamp on your nightstand casted a gentle ambiance in the room. Once you were tucked under the soft comforter, Haechan settled down beside you.

“Close your eyes, baby,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around you in a comfortable position. 

His lips brushed against your temple, sending a tingling shock down your spine. The warmth of his touch prompted you to snuggle closer, your head finding the perfect spot on his chest. The echoes of his steady heartbeat were calming and the warmth of his embrace gradually melted away any troublesome thoughts that lingered within you.

You let out a heavy exhale before mumbling, “You really have a way of making everything feel okay.”

Haechan chuckled and brushed back a lock of hair behind your ear. The corners of his lips curled into a small smirk.

“Of course, you just happen to have the most caring, loving, and devastatingly handsome boyfriend,” he said, flashing you a teasing smile.

You knew he was only joking. But as his words sank in through your mind, you recognized the truth in them. The longer you were with Haechan, the more you realized that you didn’t know what you’d do without him in your life.

Instinctively, your hand drifted to cradle his face, lightly tracing over the moles adorning his cheek. Gazing into his eyes, a sense of vulnerability washed over you.

“You’re right. I do,” you quietly admitted.

Caught off guard by your serious response, Haechan’s heart ached at your simple words. This overwhelming surge of deep love and affection he had for you hit him all at once. Without holding back, he leaned in to capture your lips in a tender kiss. You stayed like this for a while, before breaking away with a smile. The two of you eventually succumbed to sleep, peacefully nestled in each other’s embrace.

─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─

[foreverisntenough]

hi! i was just wondering maybe we can get a one shot of y/n and trent and it s solely focused on the dogs?? i feel like we didn’t see much of them in ours and your mine and i love dogs so much so i wanted to know more about them 😅

could be about anything really, maybe how they first got them or their first walk or first visit at the vet. i don’t mind lol

I'm not sure why but this felt so wholesome so I decided to write a little something. We didn’t get a ton of this moments in the ‘You’re Mine’ series. It was all very progressive so this more static moment was sweet.

Ignore any grammatical errors just throwing this out there. Hope you enjoy xx

--------- My tiny one shot short below for you 🤍

'Prince and Koba'

1.6 k words | Trent Alexander-Arnold x Reader |

↳ After a summer romance, you finally travel to go to Trent's house in Liverpool for the first time. Whilst your're nervous about many things, one thing weighing on you... would his dogs like you?

---------

When Trent first mentioned his two French bulldogs in casual conversation, your heart gave a little leap. You loved dogs, and the idea of meeting his made you excited in a way that felt strangely important. Like if he let you, the relationship would be more real. There was something about dogs—how they seem to sense the core of a person—that made you feel like your upcoming visit to Trent in Liverpool wasn’t just about meeting him again but meeting the full scope of his life. His dogs were a part of that, an extension of him, and it mattered more than you cared to admit whether they’d like you. It was after one of his matches, you’d just arrived to England earlier in the day. Now late in the evening, you finally stood just inside his front door.. This was your first time visiting Trent after that magical summer romance, and now you were at his home—his sanctuary. As Trent unlocked his house door the soft chime of the alarm beeped in the background as he opened it wider to let you both in. Before you could even say anything, you heard it—the rapid patter of paws on hardwood floors. Trent’s dogs were making their way toward you. Or, more specifically, toward him.

Prince and Koba, his two French bulldogs, bounded down the hall. Trent barely had time to straighten up before they reached him, skidding to a stop at his feet, their excitement palpable. He crouched down, his game-worn body groaning a little as he did, and greeted them with all the affection they were used to. It was clear this was their routine, and you couldn’t help but smile at the way he melted into them, tired as he was. But then something shifted. Prince, the more curious of the two, turned his attention away from Trent and toward you. His ears perked up as he studied you with those round, inquisitive eyes. For a moment, he seemed to pause, as if he was weighing whether you were worth investigating. And then, with a wag of his little tail, he made his decision. The next thing you knew, Price was trotting over to you, and you couldn’t help but laugh in relief. You crouched down, holding out your hand for him to sniff, and his soft nose brushed against your fingers.

“Hi, Prince,” you cooed, your voice soft and full of joy. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” You cooed. You stayed low, letting him get a good sniff, all while scratching behind his ears. He wagged his tail a little harder, clearly pleased with your presence. Just as you were about to relax completely, Koba, the more boisterous of the two, decided it was his turn. He barreled toward you with all the grace of a bulldog who hadn’t quite mastered his own momentum. He ran into you with a solid thud, knocking you slightly off balance from your squat. You laughed, slightly thrown off-kilter now, but it was the kind of laugh that spilled out of you uncontrollably, the kind that made your cheeks hurt in the best way.

“Oh! Hello,” you giggled, catching yourself as you steadied both dogs with your hands. “Just as excited to meet you too. I promise, yeah?” You cooed gently. Trent stood up slowly, watching with an amused grin as you were swarmed by his two dogs. He had never realized just how important this moment was until now. His dogs were like an extension of him, and seeing how easily you interacted with them made something click in his chest. His heart warmed at the sight of you laughing with them, your hands ruffling their fur as if you had known them your whole life.

“They like you,” Trent said softly, his voice filled with a mix of relief and affection. You looked up at him, still smiling as you rubbed Price’s belly while Koba licked your hand.

“I’m glad,” you said, still a bit breathless from the excitement. “I was nervous they wouldn’t.” Trent chuckled, walking over to where you were still crouched down. 

“Nervous? Nah,” he said, his voice teasing but warm. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. I think they’re already in love with you.” He said it and his heart nearly stopped. He knew he was in love with you but you didn’t need to know that just yet. Seeing you with Prince and Koba had him almost fumbling. Nevertheless, whilst searching for a semblance of composure in his head, he offered you a hand, and you took it, letting him pull you up. As you stood, Prince and Koba continued to circle around your legs, clearly not ready to let you go just yet. Trent reached down to pat their heads once more before turning his full attention to you.

“You want to go to the cinema?” he asked, his eyes scanning your face for any hint of exhaustion or nerves. “I was thinking we could watch something. Unless you’d rather crash.” You smiled, feeling the weight of the day beginning to settle in your bones. 

“Sounds perfect, T.” You cooed. He nodded and gently pulled you into a cuddle. The warmth of his embrace made you relax completely. You could feel his heartbeat against your cheek as you rested your head on his chest, and the soft sounds of his dogs settling down at your feet filled the quiet space around you.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” he whispered into your hair, his voice so soft you almost missed it. You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. 

“Me too,” you whispered back, and you meant it more than anything. And so, as the night settled in, the excitement of the evening gave way to a cozy calm. You and Trent made your way to the cinema room, ready to unwind after a long day. The dogs, Prince and Koba, trailed behind, their little nails clicking softly against the floor. It was sweet how they followed, like they were just as eager to join in for the night. Once you sank into the plush sofa, the dogs wasted no time in making themselves at home. Koba and Prince both jumped up as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Trent, clearly used to this, chuckled and tried to gently shoo them off at first pretending them didn’t.

“Nah, not tonight, lads,” he said, giving them a halfhearted push. “Go on.” He instructed them. You smiled, watching how instinctively they ignored him and stayed close, like it was routine for them to snuggle up with Trent on quiet nights like this.

“They can stay,” you teased, giving Trent a playful nudge. “I don’t mind sharing you with them.” Trent raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at his lips. 

“Oh yeah? Alright then, you two. Up you go.” With that simple invitation, Prince stepped in a circle a few times on the couch, as if trying to find the perfect spot, before plopping down next to you. His warm little body pressed against your thigh, his face nuzzling into you. You couldn’t help but coo softly, your hand absentmindedly stroking his fur. But Koba, ever the clown, made a far more dramatic entrance. With little hesitation, he tried to clumsily sprawl himself right across your stomach, his paws digging into you like he was trying to claim the prime cuddle spot for himself. You laughed, the sound ringing through the room, as his weight nearly knocked the breath out of you.

“Comfortable?” you giggled a question, with a raise of your eye brow looking down at him.  Trent laughed at the scene, shaking his head before reaching over to move Koba onto the cushion next to him. 

“Alright, relax, Kobs,” he teased, scratching Koba behind the ears. “You can sit with us, but I get to cuddle with her. She flew all the way here for me, not you.” You flashed him a cheeky smile, not missing the opportunity to tease him right back. 

“Mmm, sure about that? I mean, these two are pretty cute. Maybe I did come all the way to England just for them.” You teased.. Trent rolled his eyes, letting out a playful scoff. 

“Yeah, yeah. Course. Make sense. Probably didn’t even miss me one bit.” He bit back. Despite his joking annoyance, he pulled you closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as you leaned into him. 

“I’m kidding, baby. Missed you more than anything.” You whispered, nuzzling your face into him. He hummed kissing your hair. The comfortable silence that followed was filled with the warmth of shared affection, the soft breathing of the dogs, and the low hum of the movie you barely paid attention to. "But they were a little bit of an incentive." You cooed quietly as Trent’s hand absentmindedly stroked your arm with a disapproving shake of the head as you cuddled into his side, and every so often, Price would let out a contented sigh from where he was nestled by your leg. Koba, for all his chaotic energy, had settled comfortably on his own cushion, glancing occasionally between you and Trent as if to make sure everything was just as it should be. It was a simple, sweet moment. One of those times that felt like life had slowed down just for a while, and all the noise and chaos of the world could wait until tomorrow. For now, it was just the two of you—and, of course, the dogs—enjoying each other’s presence. “I like this,” you whispered again, breaking the silence, your voice barely above a breath as you rested your head against his chest. “Just being here with you.” Trent smiled, the kind of smile that made your heart feel warm. He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering for a moment. “Me too,” he murmured back. 

“This is perfect.” He confirmed. And it really was.

⇨ Read other ForeverIsntEnough work here!

[lanasblood]

HOTTER THAN SIN | neteyam x reader

pairing: neteyam x f!reader

summary: at night, you find yourself seeking solace and comfort in the arms of your lover while conflicting emotions highlight your struggle between duty and true happiness.

word count: 3k

warnings: forbidden love trope, nsfw content - minors do not interact, fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v, biting, marking, some background info for the plot (to make it a bit logical), cheating with consent (?), you and neteyam acting like wild animals lol it's always h words hours with him, all characters are adults

na'vi words: yerik - hexapede (deer-like pandoran animal); yawne - beloved

* gif's mine (for the first time)

"You are promised to my baby bro." His words echoed in your mind, over and over again, as you absentmindedly ran a comb through your hair in your nightly routine. The night had already slipped away, the moons shining brightly in the sky, silently witnessing your inner turmoil as you, for the third time now, abandoned your attempt to braid your hair. A sense of unease settled in the air as you found yourself alone, lost in deep contemplation, unable to sleep peacefully.

"Your baby bro loves someone else, and so do I,"  you had told him, not to appease your own conscience or even his but as a matter of fact. It was true that you and Lo'ak had been forced to reach a silent agreement, but that didn't mean you were in agreement at all. It was largely driven by your parents and his; you had been betrothed to each other as young children, unaware of the true significance of it. As the years went by and this arrangement took up more presence in your lives, both you and Lo'ak realized that there was absolutely no chemistry between you. And so, you agreed that until your impending mating (and both of you were confident you would find a way to escape the situation by then), he could do as he pleased with whomever he wanted, and so could you. What Lo'ak didn't know was that your "whomever" happened to be his own brother, a secret you no longer wanted to keep hidden. 

You've had many conversations with Neteyam about it, repeatedly making it clear that you were not satisfied with the current situation, and that you no longer wanted a secret affair. You were tired of meeting him whenever it was convenient and not when you wanted, tired of hiding in the shadows when it could be so easy to change it all. All he had to do was face his elders and announce that he had chosen you as his mate by his side. Everyone would understand, you were sure of it. But Neteyam didn't want to hear any of it; he ignored your questions, changed the subject, and smooth-talked his way out of it every time. You were so fucking tired of it all. 

However, you were not tired of his lustrous glances during communal gatherings, his playful smiles whenever he saw you at training, his gentle touches on your lower back that lingered a bit too long whenever he passed by, his whispered compliments close to your ear when no one was looking, and his secret signs only you knew, like the subtle nod of his head signaling you to follow him to the forest, or the way he licked over his lower lip, barely noticeable to untrained eyes, but a clear sign for you that you wouldn't be spending the night alone.

"What the..." you furrowed your brows, setting the comb aside in your hand, as you saw a familiar silhouette standing at the entrance of your family's tent, a smug smile on his face. "Are you crazy?" you whisper-yelled at him, "My parents are sleeping!" You quickly glanced at the sealed section at the end of the tent, hoping that no one would come out and see you together with Neteyam in the middle of the night.

"I know," he shrugged nonchalantly, "But that has never stopped me from seeing my beautiful girl."

"Not your girl," you reminded him harshly, "Your own words. Besides, I'm still angry at you, so in case you don't have an answer to my questions, you can just go away the way you…" 

You gasped then, your eyes widening in alarm, like those of a yerik witnessing the sharp tip of an arrow hurtling towards it. Suddenly, you found yourself lying flat on your back, with Neteyam above you, having pinned you down. How on Pandora had he done that again? Just a few seconds ago, he was standing at the entrance of the tent, you had been distracted for a fraction of a second, and now... 

You decided not to dwell on his surprise maneuvers for long, as his soft lips had once again claimed yours, the same as the hundreds and thousands of times before, washing away any questions and worries with a single sweep. You gasped into the kiss, letting your slender hands roam over his strong arms, tracing along his well-defined back where your fingertips pressed into his delicate skin. Eywa, this man was perfect.

"That's why I'm here," he mumbled in between hot kisses, while your lips almost refused to part for even a second, "Cannot let my girl go to sleep angry, can I?"

You sighed into the next kiss, a longer, and more passionate one, but tried to keep a clear head as a single question dominated your thoughts: Just when would you officially become his?

"Do not ask questions whose answers you cannot handle," he whispered against your lips, brushing a tender kiss on the corner of your mouth, and buried his left hand in your flowing hair.

"You know I can handle it," you retorted, a slight pout on your lips. You no longer wondered how Neteyam always seemed to know what was going through your mind. Perhaps he just knew you inside and out. Or perhaps you were an open book, and everyone else could genuinely read from your face what you were feeling, what you were thinking. That was indeed the most plausible explanation that had come to your mind since the first night you has spent with Neteyam. Yes, that must be it, you must be easy to read. 

If only you knew that you were precisely the opposite. You had thrown Neteyam off balance so many times without even trying, without even realizing, solely through your actions, which stood in contradiction to your feelings that he could sense as clearly as a gentle touch because he did, in fact, know you inside and out. You were anything but easy to read. At least not always. And you were probably the most capable person he had encountered, with him always being in awe with the new surprises you had up your sleeve. 

Neteyam smiled a genuine smile, "Just trust me on this and leave the rest to me." 

His deep accented voice triggered so many emotions within you. Your hands slid lower, reaching the hem of his loincloth, attempting to untie the knot, but it proved to be more challenging than anticipated as Neteyam playfully nibbled on the delicate skin of your neck, occasionally running his tongue over it in a teasing manner. You shuddered so intensely under his touch that you believed you were on the verge of experiencing an orgasm solely from his caresses, the peak of pleasure within reach and tantalizingly close whenever he was near. It was crazy.

"Yes," you murmured as his hands tenderly glided along your sides, descending to your bare thighs, venturing further toward your heated core, which yearned so desperately for attention. But he took his time, still lavishing attention on your neck, sending shivers cascading down your spine. His tongue traced a path down to your chest. You yearned to feel more, so much more, and the absence of his touch in that specific place drove you wild. His hand traveled up again, skimming delicately over the insides of your thighs, teasingly brushing against your heated core, only to divert his focus to your taut stomach and breasts. Everywhere but there.

"Please." It almost sounded like whining, which caused the prince of the forest to chuckle softly once again. 

In the next instant, you already regretted your quiet plea, as the following sound you heard was the screech of fabric ripping apart.

You gasped heavily, staring at him with eyes filled with desire. "You... oh, you. Couldn't you have done that like a normal person?"

"I thought you didn't want to wait any longer," he smirked, exuding an irresistibly seductive charm. Gone were your loincloth and upper feathery piece that you had loved so dearly, having spent hours of weaving. He then adjusted himself slightly as you struggled to remove his loincloth. The clothes fell carelessly to the ground, as if they had never belonged to you both. Completely naked, as the Great Mother had created you, and yet like wild animals, you both pounced on each other.

Shamelessly, he now gazed at your body, completely exposed, as you lay before him, as you eagerly craved his touch. But this time, it was he who looked rather surprised, as you swiftly rose up, burying your hands in his nape and and drawing him back down to you. You pressed your throbbing core against him and your sweet lips against his, claiming him with fervor, completely consumed by desire. You kissed him this time with wild, unrestrained passion, and dug your nails into the firm flesh of his back. Neteyam broke away, gasping for a moment, before turning his attention to your breasts. He encircled your hardened peaks with his soft lips, sucking and teasing them, occasionally nipping and biting, which elicited another gasp from you. It aroused him immensely to hear those sweet sounds escaping your lips, knowing that only he could evoke such a response from you. His loins were on fire, his cock eager to feel the wet, tight embrace of your folds, but for now, his focus was solely on you, you and your quivering body under his hands and his mouth.

"Mhmm," you hummed, running your tongue over your lips and wrapping your legs tightly around his hips, grinding your arching core against the hardness of his arousal. You wanted to feel him. To feel him filling you completely, driving you to the edge of sanity, but he took his time, still caressing your tits, occasionally nibbling lightly on your hardened nipples, eliciting soft moans from you, before soothing them with his tongue. Meanwhile, his hands never ceased their massaging motions, sensually exploring every inch of your body. His mouth trailed lower, moving along your stomach, and his tongue traced circles around your belly button. His hands gently spread your legs apart, granting him more access and freedom to explore your trembling form.

Arching your head back, as much as you could in that position, you let out a soft moan as his hands glided briefly over your pulsating core. He lowered his head between your legs and tantalizingly licked over it, causing a slightly louder moan to escape your lips this time.

"Shh, yawne, not so loud," he warned you, and once again turned his attention and focus on your sensitive pearl, licking it once more before exhaling a gentle breath onto it, which sent shivers of pleasure coursing through your body.

And there it was... his lips pressed against your highly sensitive spot. He kissed you there, suckling on your bud and then traced small circles over it with his warm, wet tongue, causing you to grip the mat under you tightly. Eywa, it felt so good. He knew exactly what he was doing, and you wanted more. So much more.

"You like that?" he whispered in a sultry tone, knowing damn well you did, his breath feeling so hot on your pulsating core caused another shiver to run through you. Unable to form any words, you simply nodded, your back arching as he expertly buried two fingers inside you, pleasuring you and making you see stars. Afraid of being too loud, you pressed your own hand against your mouth, while simultaneously pressing your hips against him. With your other hand, you caressed your breasts, eliciting a low growl from Neteyam. If only you knew the intensity of the fire you ignited within him as you touched and pleasured yourself before his eyes. 

Before you could lunge at his neck in frustration for withdrawing his fingers just as you were on the edge of orgasm, you could already feel the firm tip of him pressing against your slick entrance. Opening your eyes, you locked your gaze with his, a wave of longing twisting your features as his lustful gaze met you, making your pelvic muscles clench with burning desire, begging for his hard cock. 

Neteyam's smile grew even more seductive, his demeanor unapologetically indulgent as he plunged into you with one powerful thrust. You gasped for air, wanting to moan, and the handsome man knew it wouldn't be a quiet affair. So, he quickly pressed his lips against yours, making you taste yourself on his tongue, and muffling your cries as he initially took you in a slow rhythm.

You wrapped your legs around his hips once more and threw your head back as you felt Neteyam's lips on your neck, his hands on your breasts, and his throbbing hardness pulsing between your legs. Biting down on your tongue, you suppressed the urge to moan loudly, moving your hips to meet his thrusts and digging your fingers into his back, leaving faint red marks that would surely fade by tomorrow.. 

"Ahh, yes… you make me feel… so good… mmm… Neteyam..."  you whispered hoarsely in his ear, lightly biting into his earlobe, causing him to momentarily tense up. His weakness.

Neteyam didn't waste a moment. His hand swiftly descended between your bodies, finding your bud and expertly stimulating it with his fingers, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. His thrusts intensified, becoming faster and more urgent, as he synchronized the movements of his hand with the rhythm of his hips. The combination of his skilled touch and the relentless pace of his thrusts pushed you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

Your moans grew louder, the world around you spinning as the intensity of your orgasm built within you, ready to explode in a wave of pleasure, threatening to consume you and pull you into the abyss. You knew all too well that you couldn't remain silent for it became harder and harder to contain your moans any longer. The need to release them was as urgent as the pulsating sensation between your legs. You were going to scream, but you shouldn't. Not here, not now.

"Come for me, yawne," Neteyam moaned softly against your lips. His words sent a shiver of anticipation through your body. The pleasure intensified as he increased his relentless pace and his hand continued to simulate your clit. You should come for him. Only for him. Every stroke, every touch brought you closer to the edge.

"Oh, Eywa, you're so… mmm… you're so…" A chocked sob left your mouth right when your body trembled, and your muscles suddenly contracted as the orgasm hit you with such force that for a moment, you feared losing consciousness. You wanted to scream, but Neteyam's mouth on yours silenced any sound that would have been too loud and potentially awaken your parents... no, perhaps the entire village. You surrendered completely to the ecstasy, letting it consume you entirely as he continued to ride out your orgasm, maintaining his rhythm and intensity. You came undone in his arms, your release washing over you in powerful waves, a surrender to the passion that ignited between you. This was different, you knew it. Not even in the woods last week, or when he surprised you while bathing early yesterday morning, had you experienced anything like this.

You breathed heavily, keeping your eyes closed. Only dimly did you register Neteyam, heaving in sync with your own panting and heavy breathing, finding his release with your name on his lips and collapsing exhaustedly on top of your delicate body, burying you beneath him, as comfortable warmth filled you, painting your walls. Both of you were on fire, the heat between your bodies lingering, the aftershocks of the orgasm gradually subsiding, and your heart pounding in your chest, mind struggling to process what just happened between the two of you, you clung to him, to his sweaty, strong body.

You didn't want to talk, you never really did, after sex. That's why you were grateful to Neteyam for lying there in silence, giving you some time to gather your thoughts that had become jumbled in the heat of the moment.

Your worries were gone. No anger, no negativity, no elders, no Lo'ak, no duties, no secrets, just Neteyam, just him and you. 

Neteyam stood up, bracing himself with both hands on either side of your head, and silently observed you for a moment, a thumb coming forward to brush your silent tears away. Small beads of sweat glistened on his body, looking like stars in the pale moonlight, and his bioluminescent freckles glowed so beautifully, giving him an ethereal look as if he were blessed by Eywa herself (which he probably was), as if he were the only source of light in the darkness, as if he were the answer to all your questions, your anchor, your key.

Your breathing was still uneven, but you were gradually calming down. Your hair was tousled on the mat, and as Neteyam looked at you with a loving gaze, he tenderly traced his fingers along your cheek, to which you instinctively leaned in, seeking his touch.

"You are beautiful, yawne," he whispered and leaned in closer to you. He gave a gentle kiss on the tip of your nose, on the corner of your mouth, and sealed your lips with his one last time, savoring the taste of your sweetness that ignited a primal desire within him, but this time, he exerted self-control and held himself back. "I promise you, I will make you mine."

You murmured something weakly in response, closing your eyes as he placed his right hand around your body, keeping you impossibly closer to him. Although you knew, he'd be long gone in the morning, you snuggled against him, pretending as if he was yours and you were his, the both of you meant to be. And you smiled at that thought, his golden eyes were the last thing you saw before falling into a deep sleep, embarking on what would likely be the sweetest dream you had ever experienced in your life.

note: not trying to be pick-me here, I genuinely find the smut I write cringey, but let me know if you enjoyed it, loves 🥴💕

btw, I've never seen anyone gif this exact scene. how do you like neteyam staring right into your soul? (if anyone has a 4k version of that, please hit me up)

[cripplecharacters]

Hi! I have three questions. In my story I'd like one of my characters to use a cane, because I never see any representation for younger people who use canes. For context this is in a medieval fantasy setting and it's going to be a comic so it will be visual media.

Question 1

I was thinking about why she might use it, and I thought maybe she could have broken her leg at some point and have chronic pain from that. I looked it up and it looks like broken bones CAN cause chronic pain, and I found a few posts from people saying that they have chronic pain/a limp after breaking their legs.

Does this sound like something that she would/could use a cane for? Would this type of chronic pain be helped by using a cane, or would it not make much of a differnece?

Question 2

At one point in the story her best friend/love interest is being attacked by a creature. Would it be okay for her to use her cane to hit it? She doesn't beat the shit out of it or anything, she just whacks it on the head to get its attention and stop it from attacking her friend.

Idk if this is even a trope but I don't want it to come across as me saying disability aids are dangerous or secretly weapons or something. She doesn't have one of those sword canes, it's just a normal cane.

Question 3

I don't know a lot about canes but I'm planning on her cane being a hand-carved, wooden, offset handle cane.

Will that type of cane be good for supporting her body as she walks around? She's pretty petite and maybe around like 5'2" or something, so she doesn't have a lot of weight to support.

I found a guide online that stated how to size her cane correctly, but do I need to add a few extra inches to compensate for the cane sinking into the ground when she walks around outdoors or will that not make much of a difference?

She lives in a rural village and there are no paved roads, just dirt. Should I maybe put a metal cap on the bottom of the cane so that it doesn't get worn down on dirt/rocks/etc?

Hi!

A cane would make sense for that! Especially if her leg doesn't offer enough stability or can't bear all the weight (though if it can't bear it at all, crutches would be better).

I don't see a problem with whacking something with a cane, though it's definitely a desperate measure (I mean, a walking cane is short as hell). I can't imagine that it would be a particularly good weapon unless she manages to knock it out first try lol. But for diverting attention it would be fine.

The type of cane sounds good to me! Though keep in mind that if she's petite and doesn't have a lot of strength, it being wooden could be eventually tiring for her in the long run. Most modern canes are much lighter for this reason.

As for the height measuring, unless she walks in mud or something equally swamp-esque it wouldn't really make a difference. The general rule is that a cane should reach the crease at the wrist, but in my experience it doesn't have to be exact. More or less around that height should be alright.

A metal cap is an interesting solution! Canes do very much wear out at the tip, and we have to change out the tips once in a while, especially if we happen to be going through harsher terrain a lot. Because her cane is wooden and non-modern, I think the best idea would be to always have the tip covered (these things wear off from any surface in existence, some are just faster than others) and change them occasionally when they're no longer usable (e.g. after walking through a rocky terrain for a long time).

I appreciate the amount of thought you put into the character! I hope this is helpful:-)

mod Sasza

[cozy-cinnamon-roll]

Stitches (Part II)

(Read Part I Here! used to be We Interrupt This Broadcast... changed the name because I feel like this fits better 😅)

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Ler!Rosie, Ler!OC, Lee!Alastor (strictly platonic)

Content/Trigger Warnings: tickling, very brief blood mention, medical themes (non-graphic & painless). And again, this is set right after Alastor gets his ass handed to him by Adam, so you can expect some angst (don't worry, he gets better).

If there are any trigger warnings you'd like me to add in the future (and/or to this fic), PLEASE let me know! I am always happy to oblige. 💕

This is a ticklefic! If that's not your cup of tea, kindly move along.

"Almost ready" I said. "Basically finished" I said. Sorry y'all, the Chronic Illness Fairy struck. 😅 I will say this was my favorite part to write, but also the one I'm most uncertain about... bit more angst in this installment and I'm not much of an angst writer lol... but with Rosie in the mix (especially as a ler), angst never lasts long. 🥰

Also I changed the title. Hopefully it's not confusing that way... cuz without Part 1 this fic makes zero sense 😅

One last thing... I'm so happy y'all like Trudy! Was thinking about posting a lil sketch of her at some point (I need a new insomnia project now that this fic is done 😅). I've been having a truly awful few weeks on the anxiety front, so all the positive feedback on Part I has been quite literally making my days 💕

Hope you enjoy!!

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"Ooh, you stubborn little bastard. You're still gonna refuse to laugh?" Rosie mutters.

Alastor doesn't dare try to speak. All he can manage is a defiant shake of his head.

"Look, my friend. If you 'don't mind a little tickling,' and getting all giggly is your specialty…" Rosie tweaks his bottom rib, eliciting a noise that comes just short of a squeak. "What, exactly, is the problem here?"

"I'm supposed to be in control!" he grinds out through his twitching grin.

"You are in control, sir." Trudy abruptly withdraws her hands, holding them up innocently. "You can tell me to stop at any time."

Alastor cringes. He was sorta hoping no one would point that out.

"Which is why I find it so fascinating that you haven't yet." A sly smirk creeps across Rosie's face.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

"I- I'm humoring you!"

"Humoring me?" Rosie tilts her head. "My dear, I hope you're not doing this just for my sake. If you don't want Trudy to check for further injury-"

"No, I do! O-on my terms!"

"This is on your terms."

"Yes, but-"

"In fact, you insisted."

He stumbles again, before mumbling another meager, "…to humor you!"

Trudy shoots her boss a disoriented look - but Rosie, as usual, is hearing her friend loud and clear.

"Alastor." Rosie rolls her eyes, gestures for Trudy to step aside, and scoots over to place a hand on his knee. "Adam is dead. Everyone in hell thinks you're either succumbing to your wounds in some remote gutter or hiding in whatever alternate dimension you just spent the last seven years. You're not even 'on air'." She leans in. "You can drop the act for a moment, if it's what you need."

That certainly hits the mark. For the first time, Alastor's smile falters - not completely dropping, but certainly losing much of the strained quality it's had since he arrived.

"I wish I could, my dear."

Encouraged, Rosie continues. "Well, what's stopping ya? As much as I love spending time with Alastor the Radio Demon… if you wanna take this opportunity to let out whoever's underneath that effervescent grin of yours, you know we wouldn't mind."

Alastor swallows - and for the first time in a decades, Rosie finds his expression difficult to read. "Rosie, I'm afraid I can't really..."

"I mean, you've been holding that same silly show-host-smile for years! Don't tell me you've never gotten tired of it!"

"It's sewn on, Rosie."

"…What?"

He hesitates. "Let's just say today wasn't the first time I've been, ah... stitched up." As he speaks, he gestures to his toothy grin. And for once, there's not a trace of distortion in his voice.

Rosie's dark eyes go wide when she realizes what he means. The cannibal overlord just stands there for a beat, in an uncharacteristic moment of shock.

But, being Rosie, she quickly recovers. "Well, so what?"

"I'm just saying, I'm afraid I can't really drop the act."

"Nonsense! Since when has your act had anything to do with your face?" Rosie flicks her hand, as if brushing the thought aside. "Who cares if you can't show genuine Alastor. I wanna hear him."

"But my microphone..."

"You're doing just fine without it."

Once again, this attempt at reassurance only makes Alastor look more disturbed. "Th-this can't be me!"

"...Well, no. This right here sure isn't the Alastor I know. But…"

Alastor is barely listening to her anymore. His broadcast persona has been his sole identity since he was alive. Now his radio tower has been reduced to rubble, his microphone snapped clean in half, even his carefully-styled clothing left in tatters…

If this is the Genuine Alastor he's now stuck with - panicked, stuttering, weak - he can't imagine how he'll ever be able to face the rest of hell…

But these racing thoughts are once again interrupted by nails tracing up his sides. A sharp yelp cuts the air as poor Alastor just about jumps out of his skin.

"…Perhaps I can offer a little help?" Rosie suggests gently, once she has his undivided (and adorably flustered) attention. "On your terms, of course?"

Alastor just gazes back at her for a long moment. "What do you have in mind?"

"I happen to know something about you that even you can't fake."

The radio demon hesitates… before heaving a sigh and, to Rosie's surprise, giving a small nod of consent.

She breaks into a brilliant (and frankly terrifying) smile.

Before Alastor can brace himself, Rosie's hands have both found his sides and begun working into his waist. Having just watched him squirm around under Trudy's thorough probing twice (and adored every second of it), she already has a pretty good idea of where his worst spots are.

Which is made abundantly clear by Alastor's reaction. Within seconds he's gone from still trying to hold it all in by habit, to giggling into his hands, to cackling hysterically.

And it's the kind of laughter she's spent the last seven years missing. This isn't the confident, taunting chuckle he brings out for battles or brushing off rivals; this is bright, helpless, occasionally hiccuping laughter, the kind that is nearly impossible for him to stop once he starts - and the kind she only has the privilege of hearing when something truly amuses him.

"You can't sew your laughter on," Rosie reminds him. "This is all yours."

Rosie's fingers creep up under his shirt to scribble on bare tummy, adding a couple new sweet spots to her mental catalogue. This technique brings out even more of her favorite little quirks: the way he bats playfully (and completely ineffectually) at her wrists; his repeated attempts to speak around his laughter that only result in frantic spurts of incomprehensible, giggle-laced gibberish.

As she traces her nails across his lower belly she also finds a tiiiny layer of unexpected pudge. Which probably shouldn't surprise her - he's been out of the battle scene for seven years, after all. All those deer carcasses have to go somewhere.

Regardless, she finds it terribly endearing for some reason... and the surge of affection translates into a corresponding surge in the intensity of Rosie's tickles.

"AHaha! Ro- Rosie!" he blurts, his voice jumping a full octave higher than normal. "Stop!!"

Rosie removes her hands immediately. "Stop?"

"Aha- ah- well- I mean, er…" He stumbles breathlessly, and gives a sheepish cough.

"You didn't really want me to stop, did you?"

Rosie resumes with a chuckle, reeling herself in just a little. "How 'bout we say... oh... 'enough,' if you really want me to quit?"

Of course, she has to go and say it out loud.

"M-more of a reflehex..." he admits reluctantly.

Alastor tosses a shaky thumbs-up at her, already too lost in his own giggles to manage a verbal reply.

And he's gotta admit… Rosie was absolutely right. He wouldn't stop her right now for all the souls in hell. There's a reason Alastor has the most recognizable evil cackle of any other overlord. He can't help but find dissolving into laughter as cathartic and exhilarating as always - even if this time, it's not at some poor soul's misfortune. It's a result of his best friend's affection for her darling deer demon.

"As fun as getting your soft little belly is," Rosie muses, pausing to let Alastor catch his breath for a moment, "I can't help but wonder if you're ticklish anywhere else…"

Alastor may be off the air, but Rosie can practically hear the screech of microphone feedback just by the look on his face. "….I plead the fifth."

"Have you considered his ears?" Trudy pipes up shyly. While she'd managed to restrain herself behind an impeccably professional bedside manner earlier, it had taken everything in her power not to stroke Alastor's ears when she'd been close enough to do so. They were just. so. fluffy.

"Ohhh, heavens…" Alastor, for his part, curls in on himself at the mere suggestion.

Rosie grins. "Hey, 'no' is always an option."

A long pause. Alastor can't believe he's considering this. But the sensation of being tickled, as unbearable as it is, does feel awfully pleasant… and it's been so long since anyone has dared to touch him…

And what else does he have to lose at this point, anyway?

"I suppose if you're… very gentle…"

"Are you aware that your ears are the softest thing in the nine circles?"

This stipulation ends up backfiring. When it comes to his ears, gentle is worse. So, so much worse.

Poor Alastor is too busy clutching his stomach and snickering madly into his sleeve to reply.

"I should know, I work in retail. These right here-" Rosie traces her fingers down the feathery-soft edges, sending the radio demon into a new round of hysterics. "-Would fetch a pretty penny."

"They're nohot for saHA-ale!!"

"Nooo, I should say not." Rosie's hapless victim lurches back into the cushions as her fingers find the fluffy region at the base of his ears. Even without the microphone, his cackles have no problem filling the room. "You're the only demon classy enough to wear them."

"And don' you - GAHaha! - f-forget it!" He's so drunk on laughter now that he's beginning to slur his words. His careful elocution has gone the same place as his steady tone, and lack of stutter.

Luckily, he's also far too drunk on laughter to care.

...Right about there, Rosie notices that the faint hum of radio static in the air is no longer just in her head.

He is laughing his heart out for the first time in weeks. Genuinely laughing for the first time in decades. And laughing completely for himself, for his own enjoyment, without need for intimidation or control or image or audience, for the first time since long before he died.

While Trudy typically can't say much for her self-preservation instinct, she's got enough of one to feel hesitant joining her boss in tickling the most powerful overlord in hell (outside the pretense of medical intervention, at least). So she just stands back, watching fondly as The Most Dangerous Overlord This Side of the Pentagram utterly destroys the deer demon.

...At least, until she notices a flicker of green light out of the corner of her eye. Lying forgotten on the end table, the splintered ends of Alastor's microphone are sparking and crackling like live wires.

The surgeon creeps over for a closer look, staring in fascination. And then - just as Rosie gets poor Alastor behind the ears and delivers a scribble to his tummy at the same time - she ever-so-gently nudges the fractured ends closer to one another.

To her surprise, a bright green spark arcs clear across the gap. For a fraction of a second, the whole staff radiates a flash of a familiar green glow.

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"Keep him laughing, Rosie," Trudy murmurs over her shoulder. It appears the Radio Demon's downfall will be nothing more than an intermission.

Thanks for being so patient with me y'all! Hope it was worth the wait 💕

💜- Cozy

[littlexscarletxwitch]

Hi!!!!! I hope you’re doing well!! I really like the way you write, I was hoping to request a fic with either Wanda or Natasha, or both if you vibe with it, and F! avenger reader with a whole bunch of pining. Maybe they go on a mission and one of them runs into like a sex pollen/ aphrodisiac that really makes them crave their crush and enhances preexisting feelings for that person. You can totally ignore this if you’re not comfortable with the idea, I appreciate you either way!!

── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲

paring: wandanat x fem!avenger!reader

tag(s): nsfw, smut with no plot, sex pollen, insatiable r (or at least I tried), wanda and nat doing whatever r needs

warning(s): MDNI, +18 ONLY read at your own risk, explicit smut, wlw sex, vaginal fingering (r receiving), mouth riding (r receiving) thigh riding (r receiving), tit sucking, slight blood kink (?), kinda dom!reader, grammatical errors, unedited

word count: 2.2k

note: Half way through writing this fic I was like "Wait, is this supposed to be smut. I mean it's sex pollen so it has to right?" and I'm still not sure but I just went with it lol. AAAAH, my first wandanat fic, I'm so excited you guys. I really hope you guys like it. It was quite a challenge writing a threesome and some parts I feel like they are bad but meh. Just go with it. Thank you, nonnie, for this request. I appreciate you just as much. I hope you like it. I'm not a native english speaker, so please let me know about any sort of mistake. Love y'all <3

requests are open! + check my rules + masterlist <3

The moment the intoxicating honey-like scent filled your lungs you felt as if your whole body shivered.

Your eyes clouded for a few seconds, your body losing balance as your legs trembled. The whole room felt like it was spinning and your thoughts were getting louder and louder. Images of red hair, tangled limbs and short black nails rushing through your mind.

“Y/n, everything okay?” you heard Steve’s voice through your earpiece, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“You have been silent for quite a while now, detka,” you heard Wanda say.

“You’re still alive, right Y/n?” Nastasha joked.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. All clear, let’s head back,” you said, trying to ignore the way your body was starting to feel different in every conceivable way possible.

As you made your way back to the quinjet you felt your heart rate increasing, you blamed it on the adrenaline of the mission, the nerves of getting out in the field once again and decided not to think too much about it, pushing everything back deep inside of your mind.

“Okay, good job everyone!” Steve congratulated all of you. “Fortunately for us, this Hydra base was empty, but it’s not always going to be like that…” he kept on going with his speech but you weren’t listening anymore.

You took a seat, feeling as if your legs would give out on you any second. It felt as if someone was hammering your poor brain, you felt your skin on fire and you felt a sinking feeling in your stomach. You felt as if your senses magnified and you felt everything ten times stronger, no matter how hard you tried to stop feeling anything at all.

“Y/n, you okay?” Clint said while placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m just tired,” you said as you gently shrugged off his hand off your burning skin, not wanting him to notice it.

Okay,” he said, sitting next to you, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

You did the same, in hopes that getting some rest will make it all go away. As you drifted off to sleep, two pairs of eyes were watching your every move. Taking down mental notes of your body language, something they would usually do. But this time they could clearly tell that something was off with you.

“Something is up with her,” the redhead mumbled, squinting her eyes at you.

“Something’s definitely wrong,” the brunette concluded.

“Can you like, check on her?”

“You want me to go through her mind?!” Wanda hissed in disbelief.

“Oh, come on. Don’t act so innocent now, Wan,” the brunette's eyes opened wide in realisation, of course Natasha knew about that. “I know you do it all the time, it’s like your little hobby, isn’t it?” the redhead teased her.

“No, I do not. Those things are private,” Wanda scoffed.

“It’s okay, I’m judging. I mean I think I would also do it if I could,” she had a grin plastered on her face.

“It’s not funny, Nat,” she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, right. Just do it,” Natasha nudged her.

“Okay, okay,” the brunette mumbled some Russian curses and a second later her eyes were turning red.

“What do you see?”

“I’m not sure,” she said, getting lost in your mind. “Everything’s a blur.”

“What do you mean ‘a blur’? It can’t be right.”

“I’m just telling you what I’m seeing, Tasha,” her brows furrowed as she tried to concentrate even more.

There had to be something that could tell the both of them what was wrong with you. You barely talked to them when you got in the quinjet, that was so not like you. You were always trailing behind them, that was one thing they liked about you. Wherever they went, you followed them like a lost puppy.

They also found it cute that even though everyone was aware you had a thing for the two of them, you never dared to do anything about it. So the two of them would tease you, making you flustered, loving the way your cheeks would go crimson red. They liked you, they really did, that was why Wanda and Natasha were so eager to know what was wrong with you. So they could make you feel better.

“Wait a second…”

“What? What is it? Tell me.”

“I think she’s in pain, but she’s not physically hurt. No, this is deeper, quite strange really. Oh, Nat, I think she’s—”

“Okay, everyone you are free for the rest of the day. See you all at dinner. First round is on me,” Steve said, as the quinjet landed. His loud voice woke you up in the process and distracted Wanda.

You groaned in annoyance, sleeping did nothing for you, everything felt ten times louder and you felt like tearing your skin off your body.

You got up quickly and made your way to your bedroom, closing the door behind you.

“The fuck’s wrong with me?” you mumbled to yourself.

You felt your tummy sinking, a fire starting in your lower area. You closed your eyes as the pain became unbearable. But closing your eyes only made it worse somehow. Your mind was filled with thoughts of them, their hands, their lips, their kisses, their scents.

“Fuck,” it came out as a moan.

The only thing you could think about was Natasha and Wanda. And that was when it hit you. You needed them, you always had, but this time you needed them or you felt like you could actually die. They will know what to do, they could help you.

“Detka!” you heard someone banging on your door.

You gasped in relief at the perfect timing.

“Y/n, we know you are not okay. Just let us inside,” the redhead shouted through your door.

Once you open the door, they realise how bad this whole thing was for you. With just one look at you they could tell you were a mess. Your breath was uneven, your cheeks were as red as ever and a thin layer of sweet covered your whole body.

“I, I—,” you tried, but your voice simply wasn’t cooperating.

“We know, baby. We know,” Wanda cooed, as Natasha closed and locked the door behind her.

“This is bad, you shouldn’t be here…”

“It’s okay, malyshaka. We are here to help you.”

“I don’t think I can control myself…”

“We don’t want you to,” the redhead said as she stood behind you.

You could feel her hot breath on your neck sending shivers down your spine.

“It hurts,” you almost cried. “I need it to stop… I need you… Make it stop,” you said breathlessly.

And that’s all it took for Wanda to connect her lips with yours and for Natasha to kiss your neck. You swear you could come undone just by the feeling of their lips but it wasn’t nearly enough. Moans escaped from your mouth repeatedly, gasping for air.

Somehow the three of you made it to your bed, Wanda’s lips never leaving yours and Natasha firming her grip on your waist. Soon enough the three of you were stripped out of your clothes, and your eyes rolled to the back of your skull as soon as you made skin to skin contact with them.

“Fuck,” the word rolled out off your togue onto Wanda’s lips the moment your exposed core touched her thigh.

You felt a wave of pleasure washing over you, clouding all your senses and just focusing on the overwhelming feeling. Your head fell back as it hit Natasha’s stomach and she seized the moment in order to finally have a taste of your lips.

As Natasha took care of your lips, trailing her rough hands all over your torso, you started rocking your hips, Wanda’s thigh hitting the right spots on your core. It soon all became too much and you started riding her thigh at a much faster pace, knowing you were closer to your relief.

The coil inside you finally snapped, a wave of immense pleasure washed over you as you cursed over and over again, their names slipping out of your lips. You were a sweety horny little mess, you had a first taste of them and now you needed more. It was a hunger that was yet to be satisfied.

As you catched your breath, you got up from Wanda’s lap and gently pushed Natasha over the bed.

“What are you—?” she raised a brow at you, confused at your behaviour.

They have studied you before and they knew for a fact that you were no leader, you were a follower. You were also a people pleaser, everybody’s needs coming before your own. So you taking the lead in this situation got her off guard.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, before getting on top of her, straddling her head with your thighs.

Without a warning you let your weight fall on top of her, her lips getting immediate access to your cunt. Natasha wasn’t able to resist you, she started licking, sucking, biting, getting moans and whimpers out of your pretty lips.

Her hands found your thighs and gently squeezed, her nails digging into your flesh. You felt Wanda getting behind you, rocking herself onto Natasha’s abdomen. She kissed your neck, leaving love bites all over your sensitive skin.

The room was filled with your moans and whimpers as Wanda and Natasha took care of you. You didn't care how loud you were being, you felt in cloud 9 with the two Russians hitting all the right places.

Your head fell back on Wanda’s shoulder, her hands trailing up your body pinching and massaging your nipples. All while Natasha worked her tongue in and out of you, her nose hitting your clit making your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

You felt your second orgasm getting closer, you knew you wouldn’t be able to last long if they kept on working their magic on you.

“Shit, don’t stop,” you gasped.

Natasha moaned in your cunt as she felt your hips rocking even faster, and wanting to help you out, she did her best work on you. Wanda didn’t trail behind and she kept on teasing your breast and sucking on your skin.

“I’m— I’m—,” a loud moan cut you off as you came undone on Natasha’s lips.

She helped you ride out your high, getting as much of your juice as she could. She moaned at the taste of you, her eyes rolling to the back of her skull getting confirmation you were as sweet as she had always imagined. The moan she let out sent a shiver up your spine, making you squirm.

“How are you, malyshka?” Wanda whispered in your ear, as she helped you get off of Nat.

You throw yourself at her, feeling the fire inside of you starting back again, as your lips seek for hers. You kissed her roughly, biting her lower lip so hard that some blood came out. You tasted her blood on your tongue as you licked the small wound you had caused her.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled on her lips, breathless.

“It’s okay,” she whispered on your lips.

You didn’t mean to be rough with her, but it was out of your control. The fire inside you was too strong to keep it under control.

“I want your fingers… I need your fingers,” you said, reaching for her hand and putting two of her fingers inside of your mouth.

Wanda moaned at the sight before her, she swore she was soaking wet. But right now it wasn't about her, it was all about helping you. Poor Y/n, suffering like a bitch in heat.

Once you were done sucking, you guided them to your aching cunt, letting her take care of you. Even though you had already come two times, you were still as wet and as needy. She easily pushed two fingers inside of you, her eyes closing at how warm you felt.

“She’s so tight, Nat.”

“Really? I guess we’ll have to work on that,” you heard the redhead chuckling, but you were lost in your pleaser. Through your hooded eyes you watched them kiss each other, making you even hotter and wetter. Wanda knew you needed this really bad, so being the lady she was, she quickly picked up her pace. She felt you clenched around her fingers and that only made her thrust her fingers even faster.

Natahsa loved the scene unfolding before her eyes but wanting to take part, she got closer to Wanda, her lips reaching out for the brunette’s breasts, sucking her nipples.

“Shit,” she gasped at the feeling, her finger stopping for half a second.

“Wanda…” you moaned out annoyingly, making Natasha chuckle.

“So– sorry,” she breathed out, getting back to her work.

Your hands travelled up or body, pinching and massaging your own breast, as you watched the redhead sucking violently Wanda’s nipples. Getting whimpers out of the two of you.

“Wan, I’m close,” you whispered.

“We got you, moya lyubov.”

The moment the pet name reached your ears you felt the wave of pleasure washing over you, coming for the third time.

“Fuck!” you manage to say, short of breath.

You felt the fire inside you finally being put out as Wanda’s fingers helped you ride out your high.

“You finally had enough?” Natasha joked.

“Maybe,” you shuddered, still trying to recover from the activity.

“Well, you better have, it’s our turn now.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at her, a small smile forming on your lips.

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M