#SO I JUST WATCH IT OR LOOK IT OVER FOR HOURS

[gloomwitchwrites]

Good evening to you. I thought about writing you many times but never had the courage to do so 😅 I saw a TikTok Trend some time ago and thought about the Reaction from our beloved task Force 141. How would they react when you "accidentally" sent them the message "He just left our house, you can come now. He'll be gone for some time". Basically pranking them by implying something shady. You can ignore this if it's weird of course. Thank you for your time and amazing writing 🙏😊

I'm so glad you finally got the courage to send in a request because I had so much fun with this one! Many many thanks because I pretty much cackled and giggled the whole time I wrote this. I'm not exaggerating. I adored this prompt. It not only gave me room for a little humor, but it also gave me the opportunity to be a little naughty!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, pranks & shenanigans, suggestive themes, mild sexual content, dirty talk, dirty thoughts, swearing, possessive behavior

Word Count: 1.5k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if series

John Price

Five minutes.

Five. Minutes.

Five minutes and you're already causing problems.

John isn't surprised. Not in the least. Sometimes, you enjoy being on your worst behavior just because it stirs him into a frenzy.

John is sitting at a stoplight, staring down at his phone screen. A car honks but he ignores it.

He's gone. Come over.

There isn't anyone else. John knows this explicitly. Not because he completely trusts you—which he does—but because he knows your exact location at all times. He knows what you search on your phone and what things you look at on the internet. And because he knows that, he knows you're just trying to take the piss.

Locking his phone screen, John turns on his blinker. A few turns later and he's back home, marching through the door. He's not mad. Far from it. You just need a good lesson—a good spanking. Over his knee with a bare ass. That way he can watch it bounce, watch as you wiggle and squirm, hear you whimper, and watch as your arousal grows with each strike.

Then, and only then, will he keep you under him. Which is what you want anyway.

John walks silently and with purpose, approaching you as you casually lounge on the couch.

"You're home early."

John ignores the jab. "You're on one today, cabbage."

"Whatever do you mean?"

John holds up his phone. "Think I'm going to believe this?"

Your eyes widen but John can see the bluff. "I meant to send that to—"

"To me," interrupts John. “You meant to send it to me.”

"To a friend,” you correct, but John notices the smile you attempt to hide. “I meant to send it to a friend.”

No. You wanted John to come home—to be a bit neurotic, even a little possessive.

"Fine," growls John. "I'll bite."

He places one hand on the top of the back cushion while the other rests above your head. He leans in, lowering his voice.

"Who do you belong to?"

"You."

"Show me you mean it."

You tuck your knees in, drawing back your top and removing your lounge pants. When they're gone, you spread wide, revealing your glistening pussy. Your arousal is clear, and John cannot wait to sink inside.

"That's my good girl."

John "Soap" MacTavish

You sent the texts not long after Johnny left for work.

He’s gone. Won’t be home for hours. Come over.

At first, you believed that Johnny would get those texts and immediately turn around, to head home and bust down the door. He did no such thing. He didn’t even respond. Not a peep from him. You spent the rest of the day in limbo, unsure if Johnny received the texts at all.

So, when he does come home, you expect him to say something.

“Hey you,” he murmurs, going in for a kiss.

“How was work?” you ask.

“Good,” he replies, heading down the hall to the bedroom. “Had a briefing. We’ll be heading out for a mission next week.”

“Do you know when exactly?” you ask.

“Tuesday!” he calls back.

Nothing. This man is completely glossing over the fact that you sent those texts to him. When he reappears in nothing but a pair of sweatpants, you nearly swoon at his bare chest and stomach.

“What did you get up to today?” he asks, sauntering over to grasp your hips and pull you close.

“Nothing much,” you reply, and Johnny hums in reply, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“You know,” he says after a beat, fishing out his phone from his pocket. “You did send me a few odd texts earlier.” He taps away at the screen at turns it around to show you.

The texts you sent are right there, glowing brightly.

“Oh, those—”

“I checked the cameras.”

“Cameras?” you choke. “What cameras?”

Johnny grins and then he’s tapping away at his phone again. When he shifts the screen around, you see yourself and him in real time. You turn to the corner of the room from where the feed is coming from.

“I never saw anyone come over. But I did see this.”

Tapping again, he changes to an earlier time during the day. It’s a feed of the bedroom, and you’re masturbating. Johnny ups the volume and you hear yourself moan.

“There’s this, too,” he says, switching to the night before when he had you on all fours, ass in the air.

“Johnny!”

He tightens his hand on your hip, keeping you close. Lowering his voice, Johnny grins. “Try again, love.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

You watch from the window as Simon’s car pulls out of the drive. You wait until he turns the corner before unlocking your phone and selecting his name.

He’s just left. Come over.

With a wicked grin, you hit send, knowing that the texts will reach Simon any second. Leaning against the window, you wait, and then smile wider as Simon’s car sharply turns the corner and speeds down the street back to the house.

He’s hardly parked the car before he’s exiting the vehicle, storming toward the house, malicious intent clear with every step. With a triumphant giggle, you rush to the bedroom and flop onto the bed, pretending that you’re up to nothing at all.

You hear the front door slam, then Simon’s thunderous footsteps followed by doors opening and closing. Sprawling out across the bed, you tap away at your phone, acting like you're not bothered at all.

When he appears in the doorway, you deliberately ignore him for five long seconds before you casually turn your head and smile.

"You're home early," you observe.

Simon looms in the doorway. "What the bloody hell was that text about?"

"What text?" you shrug, all innocence.

Simon, deadpan, replies "He's just left. Come over."

"Oh. That was for a friend."

"Which friend?"

"A friend."

Simon slowly walks up to the side of the bed. "You're fucking with me."

"Don't know what you're on about, Simon."

The murderous demeanor you saw earlier melts away, leaving behind a mischievous glint that you know all too well. With a viper-like quickness, Simon grasps your ankle and yanks you to the end of the bed.

"Simon!" you shriek, but he's already flipping you over onto your stomach.

He plants both knees on either side of you, keeping you trapped beneath him, his large hands coming down on your wrists to pin them above your head.

"Was last night not enough?" he asks, voice a gruff whisper. "Or do you need another lesson?"

You lift your head as Simon transfers both wrists beneath one hand. He has his phone, tapping away at the screen.

'What are you doing?"

"Telling Price I'm not coming in."

"But you're scheduled."

Simon locks the phone and then tosses it to the side. "He'll understand." Pressing his lips to the shell of your ear, his voice drops to a breathy whisper. "I have a woman to breed."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

It's cruel, perhaps. Even mean. But getting Kyle worked up is so goddamn sweet.

He’s protective, sometimes even a bit possessive, and nothing is hotter to you than watching him stake his claim.

Which is why you sent those texts in the first place—a way to make his heartrate spike.

He just left. He'll be gone for hours.

Kyle bursts through the bedroom door, his chest heaving as if he just ran several miles.

“Where are they?” he asks, voice a growl.

Kyle heads for the bathroom. Throwing open the door, he storms inside, but finding nothing, retreats back into the bedroom.

"Where's who?" you ask in mock innocence as Kyle opens the closet, pushing aside clothes as if he’ll find someone hiding there.

Kyle exits the closet, hands on his hips. “I saw the texts.”

“What texts?” You casually retrieve your phone, already knowing what you’ll find there. Opening up the messaging app, you click on Kyle’s name, and laugh.

“Sorry,” you giggle. “I meant to send that to a friend.”

Kyle’s eyes shut, and the sigh he makes is so loud you laugh harder. Clutching his own phone in his hand, Kyle shakes it in his fist.

“You’re having a laugh,” he says.

"No," you giggle. "Just a mistake."

That thin line becomes a smirk. Kyle tosses his phone onto the bed and you immediately know you’re done for.

“I know you, love. Think you’re clever, yeah?”

He saunters forward, and you push up onto your hands, sliding back along the bed.

“Kyle,” you warn.

“Tricking me just to get me home. For what? Think I’m going to bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you?”

Yes. That’s exactly what I think.

You scoot away, sinking into the pile of pillows at the head of the bed. Kyle matches your movements until he’s nearly horizontal over you.

“You’re right,” he continues. “I will.” His gaze roams over your body and then returns to your face. “But first, I’m going to train you into never making a silly mistake like that ever again.”

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[riboism]

prettiest virgin

》 pairing: dilf! j.yh x fem babysitter! reader

》 wc: 7.8k

》 plot: every night this summer, you fantasized about your boss, Mr. Jeong. babysitting his adorable daughter all summer had turned your small crush on the young, single dad into a lust-filled infatuation. after an awkward encounter that left you both humiliated, you did your best to keep your distance at his daughter’s birthday party. that is, until fate trapped you in a bathroom with him while the party carried on outside.

》 content: oh boy, let's see, age gap, aged up yunho, virgin reader, reader lowkey down bad and porn-obsessed, bathroom sex, mirror sex, panties stay on!! grinding, cowgirl stand and carry, yunho basically using you like a fleshlight, use of sir and good girl, filthy dirty talk, cum eating, cum facial, multiple orgasms, reader obsessed with his cum lol, thigh fucking, sucking his dick while he watches porn??? MONSTER CAWK YUNHO

》 playlist: prettiest virgin- agar agar, candy- doja cat, I fucking lust you- d'african, taste so good- sabrina claudio, less of you- omar apollo, real life- the marias

You promised yourself you wouldn’t do this again, but here you were, laying in bed with a vibrator cupped to your clit, eyes glued to your phone screen as you tapped on the first video in the big dick category. It took a while for the vibrator to buzz you the right way, but once you found your sweet spot, your head sank lower into your pillow and you had to bite your lip to keep any sounds from slipping out of your mouth. This was the fifth night in a row that you jerked off, and honestly, you were exhausted; Tired of waking up late because of your little late-night endeavors, tired of feeling gross each time your wetness leaked out and stained your panties during the day, and most of all, tired of being a virgin. 

The video you were watching had your favorite pornstar in it. The guy himself wasn’t at all your type, but his cock was pretty. And big. It’s weird to admit, but this is how you imagined Mr. Jeong’s cock looked like. You had been babysitting Mr. Jeong’s six-year-old daughter for the summer while school was out. She was an angel. Hana reminded you a lot of Bubbles from the PowerPuff Girls cartoon, with her sweet little voice and sensitive nature. You loved spending time with her. 

Yes, throughout the summer, you had developed a crush on Hana’s Dad. How could you not? He was everything a man ought to be— tall, handsome, and kind. His being a good father was just a plus in your eyes. He worked from home, so you’d see him occasionally throughout the day. During his break, he’d come downstairs from his home office to color with Hana for a few minutes. During lunch, you’d sit with them on the patio, watching with heart eyes as he wiped ketchup off of her little mouth. 

Lately, your infatuation has become all-consuming, and you resorted to buying a vibrator from Amazon to help ease your frustrations. And that’s when this little habit of yours began. It felt odd, at first. You didn’t want to be the type of person who watches porn every night for hours, imagining your boss doing all these things to you. It just sort of happened. And instead of easing your frustrations, it made them worse. 

You hated being a virgin. Vibrators weren’t enough. You, for lack of a better term, needed to be dicked down. Preferably by Mr. Jeong, but that would only happen in your wildest dreams. It wasn’t like he made it easy for you. Yesterday for example, when you were preparing Hana’s PB&J, Mr. Jeong reached over your head to grab a mug from the cupboard above you. “Behind you,” he alerted, his fingers grazing over your waist as he pulled his coffee mug out. You stood frozen, the place where he touched you burning hot on your skin. 

Every time he touches you, whether it’s the accidental brush of his fingers when he hands you your check or the deliberate weight of his hand on your shoulder as he thanks you at the end of the day, it only makes you crave him more and more.

The video you were watching had an obvious size kink going on. The male pornstar was huge, and he was able to pick up his petite partner and fuck into her with ease. Your thighs clenched thinking about Mr. Jeong picking you up like that and pumping you up and down his length, stuffing just the tip of his big cock into you because that’s all that could fit. Your core tightened, and your orgasm was imminent, until…

It died. Your vibrator died. 

“Oh, fuck off!” You cursed, slamming your head back into your pillow. Stupid cheap fucking vibrator. Here’s to another night of being a lonely, twenty-something virgin, going to bed unsatisfied and unwanted. You sighed, exasperated.

Mr. Jeong was older. You didn’t know much about his wife. It was a sensitive topic for him. And Hana was too young to remember her final moments. He couldn’t possibly want anything to do with you, and instead, you filled your head with unrealistic fantasies to keep yourself up at night and made yourself cum to them. Maybe you wouldn’t be so miserable if you were around more boys your age. 

Too tired to continue with your fingers, you shifted to your side and tried to make yourself comfortable. It was 4 in the morning now, which meant you’d only get about 3 hours tonight. Just great, you thought to yourself, waiting for the exhaustion to finally lull you to sleep. 

—

You were rather sluggish today, struggling to keep your eyes open as you drove to Mr. Jeong’s house. The cold brew you picked up before heading over there wasn’t much help. Instead, it just made you even more tired. I need to stop jerking off before bed, you told yourself. Luckily, it was Friday, which meant you had enough time to catch up on the lost hours of sleep this weekend. 

You sighed as you measured out the detergent to wash Hana’s favorite tutu, the warm and fuzzy smell of fabric softener reminding you of your blanket at home, making you want to sleep even more. Hana got upset this morning before you dropped her off to ballet practice when some syrup from her drive-thru pancakes dripped onto her tutu. To quiet her tantrum, you promised her you’d go back home to wash it so it's nice and clean for her to wear when she comes back, and that you’d also bring her second favorite tutu for practice— a purplish-blue one with pink glitter dusted around it. It didn’t feel right just washing one piece of clothing, so you decided to go upstairs and quickly grab the dirty clothes from Hana and Mr. Jeong’s hampers. 

You yawned as you made your way up the stairs, stopping by Hana’s room first. Her room was, as always, a chaotic mess—Barbie dolls and crayons scattered across the floor in colorful disarray, old juice boxes, and snack bags left forgotten on the desk. No matter how many times you tried to teach her the importance of cleaning up after herself, the lesson never seemed to stick. With a resigned sigh, you grabbed the clothes from her hamper and stuffed them into the laundry basket.

Leaving her room, you headed toward Mr. Jeong’s, but froze mid-step as a strange, muffled sound reached your ears from his office. At first, you assumed he was in a meeting, but as you drew closer, the noises grew more alarming—strained and uneven, almost as if he were in pain or… crying?

You gently set the laundry basket down on the floor, carefully tiptoeing toward the door. Pressing your ear against the cold, wooden surface, you strained to make sense of the muffled noises coming from inside. A sharp hiss followed by a low, frustrated “fuck” caught you off guard, making your breath hitch.

Startled, you raised a hand and knocked lightly on the door. “Mr. Jeong?” you called softly. No answer. Concern gnawed at you, and without thinking, you turned the knob. The door creaked as it inched open, the sound slicing through the stillness.

“Mr. Jeong, is everything—” you started, stepping inside.

Mr. Jeong swiveled in his chair, his face frozen in a mask of shock and embarrassment. The two of you stood locked in place as if time itself had come to a standstill. The only sounds in the room were the filthy, lewd moans of a woman coming from his computer. Your gaze dropped instinctively, trailing down his frame until your eyes caught on something in his lower half— his long slender fingers gripping tightly onto his erect cock. 

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, his voice sharp with panic as he scrambled to pull his pants up, hastily stuffing himself back into his waistband. His movements were frantic, his face flushed a deep crimson. “I-I thought you were at the ballet school!”

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, the heat rising so quickly you felt your face must be as red as his. “I-I was,” you stammered, your words tumbling out awkwardly as you tried to steady your voice. “But… Hana’s tutu got dirty, and I… I came back to grab another one…”

The porn video continued playing in the background, the sounds of the ridiculously wet blowjob making the awkwardness even more unbearable.

Mr. Jeong, finally snapping out of his daze, spun back to his computer and fumbled to exit the site, the click of the mouse unnervingly loud in the heavy silence. He turned back to you, his mouth opening as if to say something, but no words came. His expression was a mixture of shame and desperation, his face still a deep shade of red.

“I’m so sorry,” you blurted out, your voice breathless and shaky as you struggled to compose yourself. The urge to flee was overwhelming. “I-I should get back to Hana. So sorry again!”

Without waiting for a response, you spun on your heel and hurried out of the room, heart pounding in your chest as you tried to process what had just happened.

—

You had worried earlier about how you’d make it through the day, feeling so drained and sluggish, but the shock from what happened had jolted you awake like a surge of electricity. Now, a different concern gnawed at you—whether you’d be able to sleep at all tonight. Embarrassment burned through you, and you were sure poor Mr. Jeong wanted to disappear off the face of the Earth after that moment.

Yet, despite yourself, your mind kept racing, replaying the image of his cock. It was so big. It was prettier than the pornstar’s you watch every night. It looked so firm in his hands, the tip flushed pink just like his cheeks. You wondered how it would feel between your legs. Would you even be able to take it? You had dildos in the past, but nothing more than the size of your palm.

“Cash or card?” Hana chirped, her cheerful voice snapping you out of the inappropriate thoughts swirling in your head about her dad.

“Hmm?” you mumbled, blinking down at her as she sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor. The living room was a mess, scattered with the colorful pieces of her cashier playset. She pointed at the small plastic credit card in your hand, her expression expectant.

“Oh, uh… I guess card?” you replied, handing it over. You watched as she swiped it through the toy terminal, her little hand expertly mimicking the action.

“Boo beep!” she said with a grin, the sound effects spot-on, before handing you back the card along with a tiny plastic milk carton. “Here you go!”

You couldn’t help but smile, her playful innocence pulling you further from your earlier embarrassment. “Thanks, Hana. Can I have a bag, please?”

“That’s fifty cents extra.” 

“Little haggler, aren’t you?” You teased. 

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed down the stairs, pulling Hana’s attention away from the transaction. “Daddy!” she exclaimed joyfully, rushing toward Mr. Jeong and wrapping her tiny arms around his legs in a tight hug.

“Hey, peanut,” he greeted with a warm smile, scooping her up and planting a quick kiss on her cheek.

“Daddy, I did a pirouette today at practice! Wanna see?”

As Hana spun around, tripping over her own feet a couple of times, you gathered your things and stuffed them into your bag. You kept your eyes down, moving toward the door with a quiet sigh of relief. For once, you were thankful it wasn’t payday; no need to linger any longer, no forced small talk with Mr. Jeong. He seemed just as relieved as he tried his best to avoid you altogether. 

“See you next week, kiddo,” you said, ruffling Hana’s soft hair before heading for the door.

“Wait, Daddy! Can Y/N come to my birthday party tomorrow?”

Mr. Jeong’s smile faltered, replaced by an uncomfortable glance in your direction. “Oh, um, well… why don’t you ask her, sweetie?” he said, quickly deflecting the question back to you.

Hana ran up to you, pressing her small body into your legs and looking up at you with those wide, pleading eyes. “Y/N, can you please please please come to my birthday party? There’s gonna be ice cream cake!”

The urge to say no was strong. You could sense Mr. Jeong’s discomfort, and honestly, you were looking forward to a quiet weekend away from him. But her hopeful gaze, the way her lips stuck out in a small, almost irresistible pout… it was too much to deny.

“Oh, well… I think I have to go somewhere this weekend and…” you started, but then her lower lip began to tremble, and you hated seeing her upset.

You let out a soft sigh, the words slipping out despite yourself. “I, uh, I guess I can come for a little bit.”

“Yay!” Hana cheered, her excitement spilling over as she jumped up and down. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

You exchanged a quiet good night with Mr. Jeong, the awkwardness lingering between you both, before disappearing into the warm summer night. The air was heavy as you made your way to your car, but your mind was racing.

As you sat behind the wheel, you cursed yourself under your breath. You should’ve held your ground, should’ve said no when you had the chance. But now… now you are going to a party with Mr. Jeong. How were you supposed to handle that? How were you supposed to navigate a whole afternoon, trapped in the same space with him, when the last thing you wanted was to face him after walking in on him jerking off earlier?

You huffed as you put your keys in the ignition. This was going to be a long weekend. 

—

The next day came quickly, too quickly, and you dreaded the whole affair as you pulled up on the driveway. You showed up about thirty minutes later than the time on the invitation, hoping to blend into the chaos without much fanfare. Sure enough, no one seemed to notice.

The house was buzzing with activity. Little kids, probably Hana’s classmates and friends from ballet, darted around like wild animals, screaming and leaving a trail of toys and crumbs in their wake. You weaved through the commotion, making your way to the table piled high with brightly wrapped presents.

You set down your gift; a doll set Hana had been dreaming about for weeks. Suddenly, you felt a small squeeze at your leg. Looking down, you saw Hana beaming up at you, her arms wrapped around you in a tight hug.

“You came!” she squealed, bouncing with excitement.

“Of course I did. Happy birthday!” you said, smiling as you ruffled her hair.

“Come meet my friends!” she insisted, grabbing your hand before you could protest.

Hana dragged you into the backyard, where her friends were splashing in the pool, their parents sitting nearby and watching them like hawks. Hana proudly introduced you to two of her closest friends—“important friends,” as she whispered with a serious nod that made you chuckle.

As you chatted with Hana’s friends, you felt a familiar pull in the corner of your eye. Mr. Jeong stood near the grill, just within your peripheral vision. The moment you glanced in his direction, your heart gave a sharp tug. He was watching you.

Your breath caught, but just before you could process it, you quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the childlike conversation in front of you. As you nodded along, a thought crept in—was he still looking at you? The possibility made your skin prickle, a slow heat creeping up your neck, your pulse growing erratic. You fought the urge to glance his way again, but curiosity got the better of you. You glanced up again, a quick and casual move, but this time, he wasn’t looking anymore. He had already turned his attention to another parent, nodding along to whatever they were saying, sipping on his ice cold beer. Still, your skin tingled, like his gaze hadn’t fully left you.

The mix of the screaming children, the sun beating down on you, and the overwhelming energy of the party soon had you retreating. With a quick excuse, you headed for the shaded table, grabbing a Coca-Cola and savoring the brief moment of quiet.

You chugged the fizzy drink, the burn in your throat oddly satisfying as it momentarily cooled you off. As you set the half-empty can down, your ears caught snippets of a hushed conversation from the table next to you. Two women, likely mothers of Hana’s friends, were whispering, and one word made you tune in: Yunho.

“His wife passed away a few years ago, back when Hana was just learning to walk. Poor guy, raising her all on his own.”

“God, but he’s so cute, though,” the other one said, not bothering to lower her voice.

“I know, right? If I didn’t have Leo, I’d totally take him out for a spin.” They dissolved into giggles, clearly enjoying their little moment until their eyes flicked toward you.

You froze, caught mid-sip from your drink. The sudden attention made your cheeks warm as they realized you’d overheard them. One of the women quickly cleared her throat, trying to cover the awkwardness.

“So, which one’s yours?” she asked, her tone friendly, though her shoulders were tense—probably hoping you hadn’t heard the part where she casually considered sleeping with Mr. Jeong.

“Oh, none of them,” you replied, forcing a polite smile. “I’m Hana’s babysitter.”

You took another sip of your soda, trying to ignore the way the two women were looking at you. It was obvious they had some kind of assumption about you and Mr. Jeong, and it made your skin prickle with discomfort.

“Oh, I didn’t know Mr. Jeong had a babysitter,” the long-haired woman said, glancing at her friend with a knowing look.

You shifted under their stares, suddenly feeling like you were being sized up. They both looked down at your exposed legs, your flowy skirt just barely covering your knees. You knew what they were thinking. Their curiosity wasn’t just innocent small talk. It felt more like they were trying to figure out if you were a threat. A young, single dad and his younger, pretty babysitter? Sounded like an overdone porn plot. 

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, your fingers anxiously slipped against your soda can, sending the cold, fizzy liquid spilling down the front of your shirt.

“Oh, shit—” You gasped, stepping back as the sticky sweetness seeped into the fabric.

The two women let out little gasps, covering their mouths, but neither of them moved to help.

“Ugh,” you muttered, shaking your hands off. “Excuse me.”

Quickly, you turned and made your way inside, walking past clusters of parents and kids until you reached the staircase. Your face was burning with frustration. This whole weekend was just one embarrassment after another. Everything had felt weird since yesterday. Mr. Jeong had been acting strange, you’d been acting strange, and now you had people assuming things about you that weren’t even true.

You climbed the stairs, the noise of the party fading as you finally reached the bathroom. With a sigh, you pushed the door open and slipped inside, shutting the door behind you.

The cold air from the vent hit your damp shirt, making the fabric cling to your skin uncomfortably. Grimacing, you pulled it over your head and tossed it onto the sink. You turned on the faucet, grabbing a towel to try and clean it before the stickiness set in.

As you rubbed at the stain, you caught your reflection in the mirror. Your cheeks were still flushed, your hair slightly messy from the heat outside. You looked… flustered. Not just from the soda incident, but from everything. From him. From the way he was staring at you, from the way you’d been thinking about him all day, despite knowing you shouldn’t. It was no surprise that you couldn’t sleep the night before, your hands stuffed inside your panties all night, forcing yourself to cum over and over as you thought about Mr. Jeong pumping his big hard cock after a long day. You couldn’t help but wonder what kind of categories he liked. MILF? Hentai? Gangbang? Did he have a favorite pornstar? You desperately wanted to know what he liked, how he liked it, his greatest desires. But what was the use? You were only driving yourself mad with these little fantasies. 

You let out a deep breath, gripping the edge of the sink. Get it together.

Before you could pull yourself back to reality, you were startled by a sudden commotion outside of your door. And before you could even react, the door knob turned and the door creaked open.

Your heart jumped into your throat as Mr. Jeong stepped inside, his eyes focused on something behind him, mid-sentence. “I’ll be right there, just gotta take a leak—”

He stopped. Completely frozen.

His eyes landed on your bare skin, the lacy edge of your bra, the way the damp fabric of your shirt sat crumpled in the sink.

For a second, neither of you moved.

Then, as if snapping out of it, his eyes shot up to yours, and his face turned to that shade of red you’d seen before. “Shit” He spun around so fast he nearly slammed into the wall, and shut the door in front of him.

Your face burned with mortification. You grabbed your shirt, holding it up against your chest even though it was still wet. “What are you doing?” you whisper-yelled, trying to sound indignant, but your voice came out weaker than you wanted.

He ran a hand through his hair, his head still facing the door. “It wasn’t locked! And my friend is outside and—” He stopped himself, exhaling sharply. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll go.”

Silence lingered between you. You should’ve told him to hurry up and leave. Should’ve thrown something at him, and scolded him for barging in like that.

But you didn’t.

Instead, your pulse pounded in your ears as you watched the way his hands clenched at his sides, the way the muscle in the side of his jaw tensed. He was still standing there, motionless and breathing a little too hard, like he was trying really, really hard to control himself.

“…Are you gonna go?” you asked, your voice softer now.

Mr. Jeong hesitated, his hand lying still on the doorknob. He let out a shaky breath. “My friend is still out in the hall, maybe, I don’t know, I don’t want him to come in after me and see you. I’m just gonna give it another minute, just to be safe.” He whispered. 

The bathroom felt impossibly small like the walls had closed in on you. The silence stretched, almost suffocating, broken only by the soft inhales through his nose and the distant chatter from the party downstairs. The faint drip of the faucet filled the space between you, but neither of you moved, let alone spoke.

It had only been a few seconds—maybe ten, maybe twenty—but it felt like minutes, like an eternity of you two just standing there, backs turned, bodies tense.

You both strained your ears, trying to pick up any signs of his friend lingering outside, but the house was too noisy, too alive with the sound of kids playing and parents chatting. There was no way to tell.

Then, slowly, almost hesitantly, he turned his head just enough to glance at you over his shoulder. His eyes lowered down to your body, just for a second, before he snapped his head forward again, almost too quickly, like he’d been caught looking.

His throat bobbed. “I think he might be gone,” he murmured. “I don’t hear anything.”

You nodded behind him, staying in place.

He exhaled deeply, his shoulders finally relaxing. “I’m really sorry,” he said, sounding defeated.

“It’s not your fault,” you replied, gripping your damp shirt tighter against your chest. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. I should’ve locked the door.”

“Right. Um… thanks,” he said. Then, after a pause, he added, “I also meant about yesterday. I feel so embarrassed. I hope that doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable about working for me. Hana really likes you.”

The mention of yesterday sent a small twist through your stomach. You swallowed. “I’m sorry for that too. I shouldn’t have walked in on you like that.”

He let out a short, breathy chuckle. “I guess we’re both just bad at locking doors. Makes us even.”

A small, nervous laugh slipped out of you, easing some of the tension in the room.

“And you don’t have to be embarrassed. Everyone does it—it’s normal,” you said, trying to reassure him, though you weren’t entirely sure why. Maybe to ease his discomfort. Maybe to ease your own.

He let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Oh yeah?” he mused, tilting his head slightly. “You jerk off in front of your babysitter too?”

The teasing tone in his voice made your cheeks warm up. But it was the way he turned then, fully facing you, locking his deep brown eyes onto yours, that made the air shift; buzzing with something neither of you acknowledged but both of you felt.

His smirk faded as quickly as it had come as if he suddenly realized how inappropriate his words were. But he didn’t apologize this time. And more importantly—he didn’t leave.

Your stomach twisted into knots again, breath growing heavier, shallower. Fuck. He was so hot. His sharp jawline, so strong and well-defined, tensed ever so slightly. His broad shoulders, so effortlessly commanding, made you feel smaller in the best way. And those eyes—deep, warm brown, always soft when he looked at Hana—weren’t so soft now. They were sharp, locked onto you with an intensity that made your pulse race. Even the faint crinkles near his eyes, the ones that usually appeared when he smiled, seemed more pronounced at this moment, only adding to how devastatingly beautiful he was.

You should have said something. You should have slipped on your cola-stained t-shirt and left the bathroom. But instead, you stood there, heart hammering in your chest, letting the weight of his gaze consume you. You couldn’t leave him. Not yet. 

And then, without a second thought, you let your damp t-shirt slip from your fingers, the fabric pooling at your feet. 

Mr. Jeong's gaze dropped to your cleavage, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. His initial serious expression made your heart flutter with uncertainty. Have you crossed a line? But then, his tongue darted out to wet his lips, and when his eyes met yours again, they held a spark that made your heart skip a beat. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice a mixture of sternness and intrigue.

“I just want to help…” you replied softly, stepping closer with careful slowness. Each step brought you nearer until you were close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. Your eyes locked onto his, filled with intent and a hint of mischief.

With a soft but bold touch, you reached out to cup his clothed cock, feeling its firmness beneath your palm. You applied a teasing pressure, grinding your hand against him. The sudden contact made him draw in a sharp breath, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he absorbed the sensation. “You didn’t get to cum last time, did you?” you murmured, your voice a sultry whisper that broke the tense silence between you.

His eyes opened slowly, a mix of desire and astonishment etched on his features. The initial hesitation seemed to melt away, replaced by a hunger that mirrored your own. He bit his bottom lip, trying to stop a moan from escaping. You could feel him hardening in your hand, his pant seam threatening to burst open. 

As if all his restraint had snapped, he pressed one hand against the back of your head, fingers burrowing into your hair, while the other slid just under your chin, tilting your face up to meet his. He slammed his lips onto yours, finally giving in to the wild desire that had been simmering between you all day. Your lips moved messily while he grinded himself against your hand.  “Fuck, you’re fucking crazy,” he said breathlessly into your lips, “And no, I didn’t, but I did think about creaming on your face before bed last night.”  

You could already feel a wetness pooling between your legs, his words being the boost you so desperately needed to move forward. You kept kissing him hungrily while undoing his fly, his half-hard cock springing out in anticipation. You took him into your hand, your fingers barely meeting as you gripped around him, stroking him gently while he cursed into your mouth. 

Mr. Jeong pulled away and spun you around in one swift move, pressing your body against his chest and trapping you in his embrace. Your hand remained obedient and eager, pumping his cock as his big hands roamed your body. One hand squeezed your breast, while the other slipped underneath your skirt. “Wore this skimpy little thing on purpose, didn’t you?” His words cascaded down your neck, “Little slut.” 

You moaned softly as his fingers rubbed against your clothed clit, your sticky wet juices leaking through the fabric. Mr. Jeong gathered the front of your panties together and pulled with a force that made you gasp. The fabric wedged against your throbbing pussy, leaving you whimpering as you bucked your hips against the friction. 

“Your so fucking wet, Y/N…” He teased, his lips pressed against your ears, sending a rush of butterflies in your stomach. “You liked what you saw yesterday, didn’t you? Couldn’t stop thinking about it, could you? Bet you came in on purpose, hmm? Heard what I was doing and wanted to help me cum?” 

A deep, throaty moan escaped your lips. You loved the way he was talking to you, the way he reduced you to a horndog little pervert, and deep down, you knew it was true. You were addicted to the thrill of it all. “Yes, sir,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desire. “I wanna be your good girl, your slut. Wanna help you cum sir, please. Want your hot load on me. Please, sir, I need it.” Your words were an invitation, a desperate plea for the intense pleasure you’ve craved for so long, and you knew he couldn't resist.

Mr. Jeong shifted from behind you and you felt the warmth of his cock, a tantalizing tap against your cunt, which forced an excited yelp from your lips. His hand covered your mouth, a gentle yet firm reminder to keep quiet. “Don’t want anyone hearing us, do we baby?” 

His cock was sandwiched between your sopping-wet folds and the tight fabric of your panties. The feeling was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help but grind your hot, eager pussy over his length. Your back rested against his chest, and you could feel his heart pounding in sync with your racing pulse. The fabric of your panties provided delicious friction, and you moaned softly into his hand, the sound muffled but still carrying the weight of your satisfaction. 

You pressed your thighs together, squeezing his cock as you rode him, the sensation being too much for the both of you. “Fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me cum too soon,” He panted, his head falling forward and burying into your shoulder. 

You grew restless, your grinding becoming faster and wild, the sounds of your quiet and desperate begging like music to his ears. “Please, sir, cum in my panties, I’ll be so good,” You pleaded with tears of pleasure streaking down your cheeks. The thought of walking around in his cum-soaked panties gave you a thrill. You could feel your clit pulsing as you rutted against his shaft, the sheer bliss of it beyond anything you’d ever experienced. “I’m gonna cum, sir, please…oh, fuck, I’m cumming!” You cried out, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm.

As your orgasm subsided, his cock still pressed against your swollen clit. You felt a numbness, a euphoric high that left you floating, your wetness a warm, inviting contrast to his hot, throbbing length. Shivers ran down your spine, and you felt like you were hovering, your consciousness detached from your body. 

Mr. Jeong lifted you in his strong arms, carrying you like fragile glass. He brought you to the bathroom mirror, and as he held you up, you couldn't help but be amazed at the sight of his length against your body. It was almost surreal, the difference in scale, and you felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. He snaked a hand around your waist, pulling your panties to the side, exposing your wet, glistening cunt to the cool air. You shivered, feeling a rush of vulnerability. He slapped his cock against your wet cunt, grinning, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. 

“What are you doing, sir?” you asked shyly, your voice soft and hesitant. You had never experienced this position before, and the sight of your legs spread wide and your cunt so open and exposed made you nervous. Mr. Jeong's hands grasped under your thighs, supporting your weight, and you could feel his strength and his muscles bulging as he held you up. “I wanna see this little pussy take my big cock,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. “Wanna watch it stretch and take me deep.” 

You gulped, your heart racing in your chest. You had never taken something this big before, and Mr. Jeong was indeed impressive. The thought of being stretched, of accommodating to his size, both excited and intimidated you. You wanted to tell him about your virginity, but the words caught in your throat. You didn't want to turn him off, and so you remained silent, your mind racing with a mix of emotions.

Noticing your worried glance reflected in the mirror, Mr. Jeong's eyes narrowed, a hint of disappointment creasing his features. “What's wrong, baby? You wanna stop?” he asked, his voice laced with concern. 

“No,” you said quietly before reaching down to grasp his cock. With a firm grip, you began to work him up and down, the weight of his hard length in your hands making your pussy twitch. You pushed his cock against your entrance, the head pressing against your tight, virgin opening. “Please, sir,” you begged, your voice pathetically dry. “I want your cock inside of me. I want to feel you stretching me, filling me up. Wanna be good for you.”

The thought of giving up your virginity to him was both scary and exhilarating. You wanted to be his, to belong to him in the most intimate way possible. You pumped him desperately, your core aching to have him stuffed deep inside you. 

The head of his cock pressed against your tight opening, and you could feel the stretch, the burning sensation of being filled for the very first time. A sob escaped your lips as Mr. Jeong slowly lowered you over his cock, the mirror reflecting it all. You watched in awe as his hot, throbbing rod disappeared inside your body, the sight of it stretching you, filling you, almost too much to bear.

“Fuck, you're so tight,” he grunted, his eyes wide with a mix of pleasure and awe. The sensation of being filled by his impressive size was intense, and you were intoxicated by a mixture of pain and bliss, the feeling making your mind numb. He was incredibly gentle at first, pushing just the tip of his cock into your walls, treating you with the utmost care. But as tension built within him, his eyes grew darker, a fierce lust taking over. With a sudden, primal urge, he began working you over his cock, pulling you up and down, your tight pussy gripping his length. You felt incredible to him, like a fleshlight come to life, and even he struggled to mask his moans as your body adjusted to his size. 

The pain was fleeting, replaced by a deep, satisfying pleasure. “Oh god, sir” you whispered, your voice strained. “It feels so good. So full... Please, don't stop.” Your sweet pleas made his ears buzz, his stomach fluttering from just how sweetly you begged for more of him. 

“God, you’re doing so good for me,” He praised, almost giddy with how effortlessly you fit him. His eyes never left the mirror, his thick bulge disappearing into your tight, wet pussy, a sight too mesmerizing to look away from.  “Such a good girl…look so pretty on my cock” He huffed, “My little cumslut.” 

His words sent a rush of heat to your cheeks, and you felt your pussy clench around him in response. You wanted him to keep talking dirty to you, to fill your ears with every filthy word and fantasy he had while pounding into you. 

Mr. Jeong grew tired, and he placed you back on the ground, pushing your body down against the sink, the cold marble against your bare stomach sending a chill down your spine. He lifted your skirt, rubbing himself against your puffy pussy lips, the overstimulation driving you wild. You felt his cock, thick and hard, lining up with your hole, and you knew what was coming. Your mouth fell open in a silent gasp as he pushed into you in one swift, powerful motion, filling you up completely. He stilled his hips, giving your pussy a chance to adjust to his size, to wrap itself around him, to pulsate and invite him deeper. You were stuffed, every inch of your pussy filled with his cock, his balls swinging and slapping against your raw skin with each thrust.

With each snap of his hips, you cursed under your breath, your fingers gripping tightly to the sink as if it were your only anchor in this storm. "S-so big!" you yelped, your voice filled with a mix of awe and fear. Your body was now completely at the mercy of Mr. Jeong, his powerful strokes sending waves of pleasure and pain through your sensitive pussy.

As he continued to thrust into you, he brought one hand up, pressing his fingers against your mouth, effectively silencing your moans. "Gotta do something about that mouth, baby," he whispered, his voice low and dangerous. His fingers, still wet with your juices from before, found their way into your mouth, and you gladly accepted them, your lips closing around his digits. You moaned deeply, your tongue wrapping around his fingers, tasting yourself on them. You lost yourself in his touch, his hard cock massaging your gummy walls, his fingers probing and exploring your warm mouth, his lips licking and sucking your ear lobe as he whispered filth to you, bringing you to the brink of another orgasm.

As your eyes met your reflection in the mirror, you were struck by a sense of unfamiliarity. Your makeup was smudged and running, the black mascara staining your tears and streaking down your cheeks. Your hair was frizzy and chaotic, some sweat-drenched strands framing your face and sticking to your warm cheeks. Your lips looked wet and swollen as you gagged around Mr. Jeong’s long fingers, the saliva dripping down your chin. You loved it. You looked like a woman who had been pleasured beyond measure. There was an intoxicating power in seeing yourself like this, a power that made you feel alive and desirable. It reminded you of the pornstar Mr. Jeong was watching yesterday, her fucked-out expression now mirroring your own. 

"Oh god, sir, it's too much!" you moaned, pulling his fingers out from your mouth. "I can't take it! I'm gonna cum again!"

“Fuck, me too,” He grunted as he pulled out of you, feeling the inevitable approach of his own release. Relief washed over you, your body weakening, your walls clenching and spasming around nothing. Mr. Jeong spun you around, placing a hand on the top of your head, pushing you to your knees just as your body swayed with the first waves of your climax. 

As Mr. Jeong jerked himself off with his hand, his eyes never left your face, now a beautiful canvas covered in the ropes of his hot cum. Though still reeling from the intense orgasm he had just given you, you opened your mouth wide, obediently accepting his thick, white cum as it splashed over your tongue. The taste was both bitter and sour, but you loved it, a unique flavor that was all his.

You licked your lips, moaning softly as you savored his taste. You kissed his tender tip, running your tongue over his slit, relishing the feeling of his cum leaking out, warm and sticky.

With a playful smile, Mr. Jeong rubbed his tip against your lips, leaving a trail of cum as he did so. "Shit, baby, you look so pretty with my cum on your face," he said, his voice shaky with post-orgasmic delight. "My sweet little cumslut."

Taking him into your mouth once more, you swirled your tongue around his sensitive head, moaning from the taste and texture of his cum. You pulled off with a plopping sound, a satisfied smile on your face. "Taste so good, sir," you whispered, your voice filled with admiration and gratitude. "Thank you for letting me taste your cum.”

Mr. Jeong, clearly pleased with your gratitude, ran his fingers through your hair affectionately, gently tucking a strand behind your ear. Suddenly, there was a hard knock on the door, snapping you both out of your little daze. 

“Yo, Yunho,” a voice called from the door. “Are you taking a shit? How much longer are you gonna be? Hana’s ready to cut the cake.”

Mr. Jeong flinched, his hands moving fast as he pulled his bottoms up, stuffing himself back inside like a guilty teenager caught red-handed. “Uh, just a minute! I’ll be right out!” he called back, voice strained.

The man sighed. “Alright, well, hurry up. The cake’s melting out here.”

You both snapped into action, scrambling to fix your clothes and smooth your hair. The rush of reality crashing back down made your heart pound even harder than before. Just as you were ready to bolt, Yunho suddenly froze, his expression shifting once he realized the mess he left on your face was still dripping down your cheeks. 

Then, without a word, he grabbed a few squares of toilet paper and gently wiped the sticky white jelly from your flushed face. “Sorry,” he murmured, his fingers barely grazing your skin, his eyes burning with the same embarrassed, heated look from before.

Once you were clean, he lingered for a second too long, standing so close you could feel his breath on your lips. He parted his mouth as if to say something, anything, but nothing came out. Instead, his fingers anxiously tapped against his thigh, a nervous habit you had never noticed before.

“You should go first,” you said quickly, sensing the weight of the moment. “I’ll come down after.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, then he nodded. “Thanks,” he muttered, stuffing his shirt back into his waistband before slipping out the door with hurried, uneven steps.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding and sank onto the toilet seat. The room still smelled faintly of him, and it felt unreal how fast the energy had shifted. Had he just been hit with regret? Was he now scrambling to shove this whole thing into a locked box in his mind? Now no longer in the heat of the moment, did he think what you two did was wrong? Were you going to get fired? 

For the rest of the party, Mr. Jeong successfully avoided you. He busied himself slicing tiny squares of cake for the kids, nodding along to endless small talk with the other parents as if nothing had happened.

You took the hint, feeling a slight shame in your chest.

Slipping out early, you gave Hana a tight hug before heading back to your car. The second you settled into your seat, your phone buzzed in your pocket. With a sigh, you pulled it out, expecting something mundane.

But when you read the message, you couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips.

Jeong Yunho: See you Monday ;)

—

Your sleep schedule had indeed improved, and you found yourself no longer relying on toys to satisfy your desires. The structure and routine of your new life, with Hana and Mr. Jeong, had brought a sense of balance and fulfillment. You enjoyed the daily interactions with Hana, whether it was playing frisbee in the backyard or teaching her simple math in her room. Your bond with her grew stronger each day, and you found great joy in being a positive influence in her life.

However, it was the Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays that held a special place in your heart. These were the days when you dropped Hana off at her ballet recitals, and while she was practicing her pliés and pirouettes, you would return to their home to tend to your other job.

Your knees were growing sore from scraping against the carpet under Yunho’s desktop table. Sounds of girls moaning emanated from his monitor. Though you were curious about what he was watching, you knew it was none of your business. Instead, you focused on the task at hand and wrapped your warm mouth over his throbbing cock, nestling yourself between his legs from under his desk. The width of his bulge filled your throat, and you gagged lightly, a sign of your complete submission to him.

Yunho, lost in the porno he was watching, seemed momentarily unaware of your presence. He was engrossed in the images on his screen, his eyes droopy and his breathing heavy. Your mouth bobbed up and down, your lips wrapping tightly around his shaft, and you could feel his excitement building. The sound of his moans mixed with the pornographic sounds on his computer made you clench around nothing, forcing you to slip your hand past your waistband. 

As you continued to suck him, you could feel his hands running through your hair, gently guiding your movements. You massaged his warm balls with your free hand, feeling his cum bubbling up in his sack, and you knew it wouldn't be long before he released his load into your waiting mouth.

"That's it, baby," Yunho whispered, his voice soft yet dominant. “Keep that pretty mouth on me. So good…so, so good for me.”

I would greatly appreciate reblogs with comments and replies. please consider leaving feedback if you enjoyed this x.

[loveesiren]

𝖢𝗁𝗈𝗂 𝖲𝖾𝗎𝗇𝗀-𝗁𝗒𝗎𝗇 𝗏𝗌. 𝖳.𝖮.𝖯 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍 𝖧𝖢

Highly requested Choi Seunghyun vs. T.O.P smut HCs! This man is so damn fine and I need him badly.

Warnings: smutty smut smut. MDNI. 18+, breeding kink

Choi Seunghyun

❁ Seunghyun, who always picks up dinner for you on his way home, excited to sit on the couch and watch a movie with you.

❁ Seunghyun, who refuses to buy you your own hoodies because you're just so stinkin' cute in his. He loves how big they are on you.

❁ Seunghyun, who could never get close enough to you. He'd lay in your lap and pick up your hand, placing it in his hair so you'd play with it. He'd reach inside your hoodie, his hands roaming your stomach and breasts, not in a sexual way, he just needed the skin to skin contact.

❁ Seunghyun, who loved sleeping naked with you, because again, he needs that skin to skin contact, it makes his dreams feel real.

❁ Seunghyun, who always brings you to the studio with him so he can show you the new music he's been working on. His eyes lit up every time you praised his work.

❁ Seunghyun, who loved the way you fell asleep in his lap, clinging to him like a spider monkey while he finished editing his songs. He loved carrying you to bed and tucking you in.

❁ Seunghyun, who loved your body so much. When the two of you got intimate, he took his sweet time exploring every inch of your body. And I'm not talking normal fan fic stuff. This man would take a good hour showing love to every part of you, making sure you felt worshipped. Sometimes you almost got angry because god you were just so fucking horny.

❁ Seunhyun, who got lost in making out with your pussy because you tasted so damn sweet.

❁ Seunghyun, who would hold your hands over your head as he grinded into you, holding eye contact with you even as he kissed you because your eyes were just so pretty.

❁ Seunghyun, who whimpered when he felt you clench around him, his release soon following because god he loved the way your body needed him.

❁ Seunghyun, who'd run a bath for the two of you and sit silently as you leaned back against him, peppering kisses on top of your head and temples as he ran soap over your body.

❁ Seunghyun, who clung to you so tightly when you slept together, because he just needed you more than anything.

T.O.P

☆ TOP, who was protective and possessive over you. His hands never leaving your body when you were out in public.

☆ TOP, who broke a mans jaw for trying to grope you.

☆ TOP, who was fucking dominant.

☆ TOP, who's demeanor changed around the paparazzi when you were with him. He had a primal instinct to protect you.

☆ TOP, who loved to tease you in public. Brushing his fingers over your clothed pussy under the dinner table, telling you to settle down when your breath hitched.

☆ TOP, who'd say, "We're at a business dinner, Y/n. Compose yourself." He'd mutter as he pressed harder against your core.

☆ TOP, who loved watching you squirm in public.

☆ TOP, who prayed you'd crack because that means he gets to punish you when you get home.

☆ TOP, who tsked at you the second you walked through the door. Loving the way you looked up at him with those big innocent eyes. "Strip." He'd say, as he removed the watch from his wrist. "You didn't settle down when I told you to, did you?"

☆ TOP, who watched you with hungry eyes as your dress fell to the floor. "On your knees."

☆ TOP, who loved how you did exactly as he said, you looked so cute on the floor looking up with him at him with needy eyes.

☆ TOP, who'd throat fuck you relentlessly, telling you you were such an obedient girl as he watched your mascara run down your face.

☆ TOP, who'd throw you over his knee, landing relentless spankings on your pretty little ass until your cheeks turned red. He loved the way you whimpered.

☆ TOP, who'd pick you up and throw your legs over his shoulders as he slid you down on his cock, the pressure was almost too overwhelming.

☆ TOP, who'd fuck up into you, loving the way your tits bounced as you came undone around him.

☆ TOP, who'd cum deep inside you and force you to sit upside down after because the man had a breeding kink and he wanted to make sure you got pregnant.

☆ TOP, who'd light a cigarette as he sat next to you, making sure none of his cum spilled out of you, using his thumb to push back in any that threatened to spill out.

☆ TOP, who when he decided you'd been a good girl for him, would take you to the shower and clean you up.

☆ TOP, who'd make sure you were tucked sweetly in bed, admiring his pretty girl, before he stepped out for his final cigarette of the night.

Tags: @kaylieiskrazy04 @fr3akyyg1rll @heuningpie @sapph1r3x @moondooll @tranquilty @noharaaa @mariaxman @dear-satan @infinetlyforgotten @staryscorner @blu-brrys @come-as-you-are-111 @nicklet94 @vamplivivi @3mma-lovely @hanadulsetaad @sayugarper @forevervibezzzz1 @shieraseastarrs @mooonologyy @skzdreamz @stillpervert @seunghyunwifey @juliskopf @mirahyun @mattsturniolosbabymama @kai-277 @rotten-toenails

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Days of the Week

Monday is your grouchy and uptight coworker. He's a stickler for the rules and not someone who confesses his feelings. He'll usually push his spectacles up his nose and frown at you whenever you try and do something new, no matter how simple.

"What did I say about filling out the spreadsheets by yourself? You've confused all the figures."

He'll push both you and your chair out of the way and settle himself at your desk like one messed up spreadsheet means the death of the whole company. If you ever try and thank him, he'll glare at you like you've insulted his whole bloodline.

"Tch. Just ask me next time."

If you pay attention, you might notice the blush that tinges his cheeks whenever you smile at him. You might notice the way he straightens his already perfect tie before coming over to harangue you about company dress code and your slightly-too-short skirts. (Why is he noticing your skirt length to begin with? Perv).

Luckily for him, you're usually too irritated or harassed to pay attention. His secret crush will be staying a secret for as long as he can manage.

Tuesday is your overly sweet neighbour. He introduced himself to you the second you moved in - offering you a tupperware of homecooked food because he knew exactly how overwhelming moving in could be. He's the guy you call when you need a shelf hung up or a stubborn jar opened. He'll raise his brows when you thank him, secretly pleased that you asked for his help.

"That's what neighbours are for, right?"

He doesn't mention that the previous tenants left him a spare key to your apartment. What if you get hurt one day while you're locked inside, with no one able to reach you in time? It's safer for you both if he keeps it a secret.

And if he occasionally let's himself into your apartment while you're at work, it's just to keep an eye on the place. It's what any good neighbour would do. So stop wondering what the white stains on your panties are, okay?

Wednesday is your unassuming classmate. They're the quiet kind, apt to fade into the background without meaning to.

At first, they were envious of you. Pretty, clever, friendly - you aren't the type people can easily ignore. They watch you whenever they can, desperate to somehow copy that elusive charm that makes you so special.

It doesn't work, obviously. When they try smiling like you it looks stiff and unnatural. When they copy your outfits they feel exposed, self conscious. When they try wearing the same perfume as you they break out in hives that last all week.

They can't be you. No one can.

But they aren't going to give up so easily. Maybe your luck doesn't come from clothes or hair or makeup. Maybe it's something deep inside of you, something that can be ripped out and kept for themselves.

They're going to learn what makes you so special, even if it means following you home with duct tape and chloroform.

Thursday is your favourite professor. He's the quietly confident type, the kind of man who doesn't have to shout to keep the lecture hall's attention. He's insightful and empathetic, his brown eyes always warm.

You trust him totally and completely. You don't notice when he starts resting his hand on your lower back whenever you stand next to him. You don't notice that your papers are always graded more harshly than your classmates. You don't realise he wants you, not even when he offers you private office hours despite his packed schedule.

You're a real cock tease, always looking at him with those doe eyes and pretty lips. He's a patient man - he'll have you eventually. It doesn't matter if it takes him two weeks or two years, he'll keep dropping your grades until you beg him for help.

You trust him. You really, really shouldn't.

Friday is the star athlete that everyone admires. Handsome, confident, clever. A man like that would usually invite envy, would get dirty looks thrown at his back and nasty surprises in his locker.

Not him though. Everyone loves Friday.

Well, everyone except for you. There's something about him that frightens you. Underneath his golden boy facade, there's something rotten and selfish.

You don't realise he's noticed your dislike until he corners you after class one day. He wraps one hand around your wrist as everyone files out of the lecture hall, too eager for the weekend to notice the slightly panicked look on your face.

"Listen, I hate to think I've done something to offend you. If I have, just tell me now and we can sort it out," he tells you, blue eyes cold and distant despite his pretty boy smile.

You tug at your wrist but his grip is unbreakable. He isn't hurting you, but his strength keeps you right where he wants you.

"We barely even know each other," you say, your eyes jumping to the door and the suddenly empty corridors. "I don't have any issue with you."

"That's a lie and we both know it. I don't want to push you, but I'm not letting you go until I know what I've done."

You finally meet his eyes. "You have it too easy in life. You get everything you want. I don't hate you. But I don't like you either."

His expression is a careful blank. "I'm not going to apologise for what I have or for what I've been given."

You tug at your wrist again and he finally let's you go.

"I don't expect you to," you mutter as you swing your bag over your shoulder and hurry out the door.

He watches you leave and inside him some selfish, possessive creature lifts its head and growls. You should have known - when a man with everything he could ever want is shown something he can't have, that just makes him want it all the more.

"Gonna make her mine," he says to the empty classroom. A promise or a threat, even he can't be sure.

Saturday is a party girl. The kind of bombshell who wears a tiny metallic bikini, a cowboy hat and absolutely nothing else to a rave.

She knows every kind of cocktail and every kind of fun time pill. She's shamelessly cocky and shamelessly outgoing. When you run into her at a concert, she'll get you all the way to the stage no matter how packed the crowds are. 

You'd think a girl like that would know all about boundaries and consent and you'd be right. The thing is, she ignores it just as easily as she ignores speed limits and DUI citations.

She'll kiss you when you're too drunk to say no. She'll give you pills that she knows you can't handle just to take you home. She'll ignore you when you try and push her away, weak and intoxicated and too woozy to form a full sentence.

And the worst part? She knows you won't report her. Girls can get drunk and touchy without it ever being called a crime.

She'll run her hands up your thighs and nip your neck and tell you she loves you. But she's always long gone by morning.

She's just a girl, your honour. And she'll use that excuse as many times as she needs to.

Sunday is your local barista. He's an artist on the side, the kind of creative soul who can't express himself without the help of charcoal and acrylic.

He's too stoic to ever work the cash register or take orders, but he somehow always ends up there when you're in line.

He usually sneaks an extra sweet treat into your order. And if he has the time, he'll usually leave a little doodle on your receipt.

He hasn't spoken to you much, but he can feel the red thread of fate tugging you closer everyday. You're soulmates, lovers meant to be, fated by heaven and all its angels.

It doesn't matter how long it takes, you'll be his eventually. He can read it in the stars.

[lazysoulwriter]

In the Quiet Moments - Drew Starkey.

She hadn’t realized how long it had been until she saw the calendar on the wall. Almost a month. A whole month since she’d felt Drew’s touch, heard his laughter echoing in her apartment, or seen the warmth in his eyes when he looked at her. The constant whirlwind of interviews, photo shoots, and events had swept him away, and she tried to convince herself she understood. His career was booming, and the attention he was getting was deserved—he worked so hard for it. But that didn’t make it any easier.

She sat on the couch, scrolling through her phone, but the truth weighed heavily on her heart. She was fine on the surface, managing work and life just as she always had, but underneath it all, there was this ache. A quiet loneliness that had crept in, something she hadn’t felt before when he was around. Drew had always been a constant—his presence, his voice, his smile. Now, it felt like he was slipping through her fingers, no matter how hard she tried to hold on.

She knew the game. She knew how it worked. Drew wasn’t the first person in her life to put their career first. But with him, it felt different. There was something unspoken between them, a bond that had never been just casual, even though they weren’t officially anything. Yet.

The pain of the distance between them didn’t come from lack of affection; it came from the lack of him. She missed the way he’d brush her hair from her face as they laughed about some silly thing, or how he’d reach for her hand during those quiet moments when they didn’t need to say anything at all.

Her phone buzzed with another notification, but she ignored it. The screen blurred as her thoughts wandered to him again. To Drew. She hadn’t heard from him in a few days—no surprise, given the hectic schedule he’d been navigating. But as much as she tried to bury the feeling, a part of her longed to hear his voice. To be in his arms. Just to know he was still there.

She took a deep breath, convincing herself she was being ridiculous. He had his reasons. She would wait. She could be patient.

But then, the sound of the doorbell rang out, sharp and unexpected.

Her heart skipped a beat.

She wasn’t expecting anyone, not at this hour. Hesitantly, she stood up, her feet carrying her to the door. She opened it without thinking twice, and there he was—Drew. Standing on her doorstep, his face softer than usual, eyes slightly downcast. He wore that familiar pouty face, the one he always did when he knew he’d messed up or let something slide. But now, it felt different. It was almost as if he was apologizing without saying a word.

She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. She just moved aside, silently inviting him in. Drew stepped over the threshold, but neither of them said anything at first.

The silence in the room felt heavy, thick with all the things they hadn’t said, all the emotions they’d kept buried. Drew shifted, running a hand through his hair, his gaze lingering on the floor, not sure how to begin.

“I know I’ve been… distant,” Drew said, his voice low, but clear. He didn’t need to say more. She already knew. “I just… I got caught up in everything. And I know that’s not fair to you.”

She stayed quiet, watching him with a mix of sadness and understanding. She could see the way he was struggling with his words. He had never been good at expressing his feelings, but this time, it was different. She could tell.

He stepped closer, closing the gap between them, and when he reached for her hands, it felt like an unspoken plea. His fingers brushed against hers, his touch tentative at first, almost as if asking for permission.

“I love you,” he said, his voice stronger now, more certain. “I know I haven’t shown it the way I should have. And I’m sorry for that. But I love you. And I want to do better. I want to be better… for you. For us.”

His words hit her harder than she expected. Her throat tightened, and her heart swelled. She could feel the sincerity in his voice, but there was also the sting of the last month—the distance, the silence. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it was hard.

“I love you too,” she whispered, barely audible. Her voice cracked, betraying the hurt she’d been trying to hide. “But I’m hurt, Drew. I needed you here. I needed us.”

Drew’s expression softened, and he took a step closer, his hand gently cupping her cheek. “I know. And I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice filled with regret. “Please… let me make it right. Let me take care of the hurt I’ve caused. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Her breath hitched, and she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to steady herself. He was here. He was here, and that meant something. It meant he hadn’t given up on them, even if he’d been lost in his world for a while.

Without another word, she let herself be pulled into his arms. Drew wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, his warmth flooding through her. She could feel his heart beating against hers, the steady rhythm grounding her. They stood there in silence for a moment, just holding each other, as if they could undo all the hurt by being together again.

And then, Drew leaned in, his lips brushing gently against hers, soft at first, as if testing the waters. But she responded immediately, her arms winding around his neck, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more desperate, as if they were both trying to make up for the time lost.

It wasn’t just a kiss. It was a promise. A promise to love, to be there, to make things right. It was a kiss that spoke of longing, of everything they hadn’t been able to say until now.

When they finally pulled away, their foreheads resting together, Drew’s voice was low and full of emotion. “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured. “I promise. We’ll figure this out. Together.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, she believed him.

･῾ ᵎ⌇ ⁺◦ 💘 ✧.

[weoris]

BIRTHDAY BOY ‎ ❪ 엔하이픈 ꔫ 양정원 ❫

O1 ✉️ each year you stress on making his ‎ ‎ birthday even better than the last. who knew ‎that all he ‎ ‎ needed was his favourite girl?

O ୨୧ 2 childhood friends to lovers | birthday au. ‎ 💼 ׂ  ׅ shy! jungwon x fem!reader fluff ‎ ‎ alcohol kissing 2.7k wc.

‎ ❛ clickhere! 🎀 dailytoo! ❜

2016 ━━━ THE 12TH BIRTHDAY

another huff of frustration left your lips, as you panted and wiped the sweat off your forehead. your mom chuckled while placing the sprinkles on his cake, as she looked at how focused you were on blowing the balloon.

“Honey relax.. you’ve been at it for Jungwonie’s not going to focus on one balloon for his birthday.”

your mother said softly, making you glare at her and shake your head, “You don’t get it, everything has to be perfect!”

she rolled her eyes and nudged Jungwon’s mom’s arm, as the two women chuckled.. it was adorable how hyper fixated you always were on birthdays of your best friends. your mom didn’t even want to begin thinking about how crazy you got on your own special days..

tons of other elementary school kids started to fill in Jungwon’s house a few hours later, and you watched from afar with a little prideful grin on your face. yeah, you did that. invitations were your job! and you took these sorts of jobs very seriously.

“Guys! I see him!” Minji exclaimed, her voice echoing off the living room walls as she saw his mom’s car parking outside. All the kids shushed each other, hiding behind the couch, the counter, the plants.. anything.. as you giggled and turned off the lights hurriedly.

Jungwon let out a content sighed with a grin in his mom’s car as he licked the spoon of cake icing. he had just gotten his own little birthday celebration at taekwondo practise, his coach and teammates singing him happy birthday and even getting some cake slices!

“Don’t eat too much, we still have dinner at home..” his mom playfully scolded, parking in the driveway as she looked through the mirror.

Jungwon smiled shyly mid-lick, giggling a bit as he got caught, putting the dessert down. “Sorry, mom~”

His mom chuckled and shook her head, as Jungwon removed his seatbelt and they both started walking up to their house. “Mom? Is y/n not coming over?” He suddenly asked, making her sigh again.

“Sorry sweetie, she has to stay over at her aunts house for another week.. her parents will be there! you’ll still get your present from her!” His mom replied, trying to bite back a smile.. jungwon nodded but a pout grew on his face as he looked down..

it wasn’t really the present he wanted..

“Yeah.. I can always see her at school-” Jungwon muttered, trying to be optimistic even when his eyes showed disappointment..

“Surprise!” but suddenly, his saddened eyes sparkled in shock and adoration.. his eyes sprawled across the room.. the chocolate cake on the table, cat and bts themed birthday ballon’s, all of his friends.. you..? you were here?! was this real?

“H-Happy Birthday!” You started awkwardly, causing a chain reaction as everyone in the room cheered as well.

Jungwon chuckled shyly and rubbed his neck, looking down at you.. “You told me you were going out of town.. did you plan all of this?” He muttered quietly, as you shrugged in a playful manner. “Maybe?” tilting your head, you giggled and ruffled his hair.

He bit his lip, closing his eyes.. while letting you mess up his hair. “You.. you’re so..” jungwon whispered, chuckling a bit as he looked down at you.. while you tilted your head and raised your eyebrows in curiosity. “Hm?”

“Let’s go dude!!” his friends grabbed his shoulders suddenly pulled him in to the party, disturbing your cute moment..

You giggled and looked over at him, how he seemed so shocked at the sudden action. you hoped he’d have fun tho.. after all, you had planned out only all of his favourite party games ever!

Jungwon hummed as he looked out on the night sky, not really paying attention to his friends leaving with their parents down the road.. or the fact that his house was a mess downstairs.

he just stared at the pretty stars in the night sky, the 10 o’clock hour making him feel almost scandalous for staying past his bedtime..

but another thing itched the back of his mind. Jungwon loved all the gifts, all the party games and of course the cake.. but he hadn’t been able to spend much time with you.

he didn’t have time to thank you for the surprise, he didn’t receive your gift, he could barely even see you from all the music and dancing his friends forced him in to!

Plus.. jungwon felt too shy to admit wanting to spend time with you. he knew his friends would tease him, everyone already teased you both relentlessly! And anytime that happened, he risked the chance of spilling out his secret feelings..

He sighed and leaned back against the wall of his balcony, sitting on the wooden floor with his knees tucked, his arms resting atop.

“Hey.. What are you doing here? On.. the ground..” You whined a little, peeking out from the door. “You should be helping your parents and I clean up!”

Jungwon couldn’t help but smile at your complaining, looking at you from the side. “Mhm.. sorry.. I’ll be there..” he hummed quietly, eyes trailing down to the ground again.

You didn’t know why, but you felt a bit guilty.. he seemed to be a bit troubled, why not lend a shoulder to rest on? “..actually it’s fine.. the birthday boy shouldn’t clean up~” you cooed gently, sighing before joining him on the floor.

He sighed and smiled, looking down and fiddling with his fingers again. “I can clean up..” he added, wanting to be of help, but you smacked your lips and nudged him.

“Tch.. I just excused your chore, and now you wanna do em? Seriously.. what kind of kid are you?” you huffed, making him giggle again as he kept his eyes down.. he couldn’t look you up in the eye..

but he noticed the floor was pretty dirty, and your white skirt was sat on it. he frowned and poked your thigh, grabbing your attention. “Don’t sit there.. you’ll dirty your skirt. you can rest on my bed, if you’d like?” Jungwon whispered, making you blush a little at how sweet he was..

You smiled but shook your head. “It’s ok..” you whispered. “I wanna spend time with you..”

Jungwon froze for a moment, before gulping and nodding.. trying to appear calm. only, he had to turn his face away from you and keep his hand over his mouth to hide his reddening cheeks and shy grin. You giggled again at how cute he looked, but didn’t push it..

“So.. you enjoyed the party?” you asked gently again, making him nod immediately, still playing with his fingers. “Mhm..” he hummed.

“Only.. I couldn’t find you for most of it..” jungwon admitted, feeling his heart race at how bold he suddenly felt. you smirked and looked at him. “Missed me?”

he chewed his inner lip, sighing a bit as he looked up at the stars again. you giggled and shook your head, liking how he got all shy.. “Yea..” he suddenly said, making you turn and widen your eyes, with your cheeks turning warm.

“I.. wanted to thank you for the party.. and I wanted to talk to you.. I wanted to take Polaroids too..” he suddenly let out, feeling a sudden rush of boldness hit him. maybe it was his birthday luck that he thought could help him?

but you were surprised.. and Polaroids? he hated whenever you took Polaroids of him. “.. you like those things, right?” jungwon whispered, looking up at you again. your eyes turned big again, gulping and nodding.. he wanted to do something you liked?

“Y-yeah.. I do..” you whispered back, gulping and looking down.

Jungwon felt his cheeks warming up.. but he felt a strange sense of pride and his ego rising in his chest.. you were the nervous one for once.

“By the way.. here’s your gift..” you added, grabbing the little gift box from behind you and handing it to him. He chuckled and hurriedly opened it.. a little friendship bracelet resting inside, blue and orange strings, with his initials and even a cat charm..

jungwon raised his eyebrows and took the bracelet immediately, breath shuddering a little. it was something so simple, so small.. he didn’t even like jewellery or things like that. but he couldn’t stop that fluttery feeling in his heart..

“Ta da~ see? I have one too!” You cooed, showing him your wrist, yours with pink and white strings and another kitty charm. he looked down at your wrist.. ‘JWS GIRL’ it read.. making him stumble a bit.. his girl? you had a bracelet.. calling you his girl?

You chuckled at the surprised reaction on his face. “It still is your birthday gift. I wanted it to be special for you!” jungwon smiled shakily and nodded, his eyes fluttering from his gift to your wrist, to back to your eyes.

“I.. I love it.. thanks y/n..” he stuttered, chuckling awkwardly as he put the bracelet on. you clapped playfully again and giggled. “Perfect! Wait here!” you exclaimed, standing up and leaving the balcony.

Jungwon’s eyes widened, as he looked back and leaned to the door to find you.. but you had run off already, bumping against a shelf on your way. Another laugh escaped his lips as he saw you stumble.. how endearing, he thought.

He wasn’t expecting you to come back with your Polaroid camera, grabbing his wrist close to yours to rest on your thigh, snapping the photo with your other hand. Jungwon gulped at the sudden proximity, but a little smile grew on his lips as he saw how excited you looked, flapping around the plastic photo eagerly and biting your lip.

“Look! ‘YJW’ and ‘JWs GIRL’!” you read out from the Polaroid that showed off your bracelets, before looking back up at him with a smirk, “We’re pretty cute together aren’t we~?” you cooed, knowing it’d make him turn red like a tomato again.

and turn red he did, as he chuckled nervously and bit his lip, nodding at your words while rubbing the back of his neck. “Y-yeah.. we are..” he said softly again while you were admiring the cute photo.

“Here.. come here..” you hummed again, but you were the one that leaned closer to him, as you both stood up this time, your shoulder in front of his. Jungwon pursed his lips at the sudden contact again, but eventually put his arm over your shoulder and held you close against him, while you snapped another Polaroid.

“Damn.. we really do look good together!” You exclaimed excitedly at how good the photo turned out, making jungwon pull back with a little smile.. his eyes stuck on you.. “m-mhm..” he hummed absentmindedly..

Your eyes found his again, looking at him with sparkly eyes and a grin. “Happy 12th, birthday boy!” you exclaimed, suddenly wrapping your arms around his neck and jumping into his arms.

“Woah-” He stumbled back a bit, trying to catch his breath and his stance as he quickly wrapped his own arms around your back. a tiny giggle left his lips, voice muffled as his face was pressed against your thick sweater.

You bit your lip and pulled away, looking back up at him and smiling mischievously. “By the way.. I had another gift ready too..” you muttered softly, making his eyebrows raise as he chuckled and nodded. “You did? That’s generous..” he hummed.

with a nod, you suddenly pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

Jungwon’s eyes turned wide for the hundredth time that night.. as he looked down at you.. he felt the world stop for a moment as you giggled up at him.

“Rest up if you won’t clean up!” You exclaimed, running off with a giggle suddenly. Jungwon was left speechless, his hand on his cheek as his fingers lightly touched the lip balm from your kiss mark..

This was definitely his favourite birthday..

2025 ━━━ THE 21ST BIRTHDAY

you bit your lip while trying to tie the balloon together again, panting in frustration from how heavily you breathed to blow it up earlier..

heeseung raised an eyebrow, but Sunoo was already used to your enthusiasm in birthdays, especially those of Jungwon’s. “Y/n? You ok? Your face is like.. blue.” hee asked in worry, coming behind you.

you inhaled deeply, after almost loosing your lung capacity in the span of five minutes. “Huh? Y-yeah-” you muttered, before the sound of the balloon flying away and the air splattering away hit your face, blowing away your hair.

“Goddamnit!” you exclaimed in frustration, running around to grab the balloon you accidentally let go of.. Sunoo rolled his eyes while decorating the rest of the living room. Heeseung gulped, looking at you in worry.

“Is she ok?” He asked the other. Sunoo shrugged and nodded. “I think so.. she’s always like this, just gets crazy over birthdays, especially Jungwon’s..”

“You know that polaroid jungwon keeps in the back of his phone? Of the two bracelets? those were from his 12th birthday, y/n gifted him friendship bracelets!” Sunoo exclaimed with a slight giggle, but looked back down with a soft sigh and shook his head.

“But that was before they became a couple.. they got together three years later and became the completely insufferable couple we know and love..” Sunoo added, making heeseung chuckle. “Hey.. jungwonie isn’t insufferable.” He argued back.

Sunoo rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Try dealing with 15-year-old jungwon yapping your ear off about his every date with y/n.. you’ll see just how insufferable he was..”

Heeseung pursed his lips, smirking slightly as he shook his head.

“Hey! Jungwon’s gonna be back in half an hour and the place is barely decorated! Get your hands on some ribbons and get this place in tip-top form!” You suddenly scolded, pointing at both heeseung and sunoo.

Sunoo rolled his eyes and sighed, but heeseung playfully saluted and nodded, cracking up as you left. “Yeah.. that girl has just never stopped being insufferable..”

“Surprise!” Everyone yelled as Jungwon opened the door, still clad in his leather jacket and all-black outfit. He gasped and chuckled at everything, some fancy champagne on the table, the golden 21 balloons on top of his couch, all of his friends.. and you.

He put his jacket on the coat rack, hugging you immediately with a giggle. “My god, honey.. this is so unexpected!” Jungwon cooed, holding you tight against his chest..

“Seriously? you really didn’t know~?” You chuckled in surprise, looking up at him as he pulled away and kept you under his arm. “No, I knew..” he muttered, still with a grin as he looked around at all of his friends and the decor.

Of course he knew, you had only been planning a surprise party at every birthday of his since he was 12.

“Ok enough with the sappy stuff, let’s get partying!” Jake wooed, his pink party glasses already on as he slung his arm over Jungwon’s shoulder, and slammed the champagne bottle into his chest. “Woo!” Jake exclaimed again, making jungwon chuckle and quickly grasp the alcohol.. he was 100% sure his friend had already started pregaming too hard..

Jungwon shook his head but popped open the bottle, starting his 21st celebration as you looked at your smiley boyfriend with adoration..

“Mm~ thank you for my party~” jungwon cooed, his arms wrapped around your waist as he embraced you from behind and walked you to the bedroom.

his voice was slightly murmured and slurred being against your cheek and jaw, pressing soft kisses to your skin.. he was also a bit tipsy, just a little~

a giggle escaped your lips, as you ruffled his blonde locks behind you. “Thank you for being born..” you cooed, turning back to him as you wrapped your arms around his neck, slowly pressing your lips onto his in a deep, yet gentle kiss.

Jungwon giggled against your lip, tilting his head and leaning lower to reach your lips as he pushed back the door behind you, entering the comforting feeling of your bedroom.

He pulled away with a soft moan, giggling at how pretty you looked. jungwon stayed there for a moment, brushing your hair back as he looked down at you.. with such love in his eyes, but you could barely distinguish them from his originally sparkly eyes that seemed to have the stars in them.

“What, sweetie?” You whispered, wondering what was going on in his pretty mind, behind that cute grin. he chuckled cutely again and turned red slightly from how you caught his obvious staring. “N-nothing..” he shook his head, giggling softly.

“Nothing, baby..” he hummed again, pressing his nose against your cheek as he left another open-mouthed kiss to yours skin.

you giggled at his clinginess, not used to him being so bold. he eventually got all blushy again when he realised what he was doing, as he pulled back and covered his hand with his face with a lazy giggle..

“Mmh.. gosh..” he chuckled groggily. “I’m sorry..”

but his words just made your heart warm up even more. you held his hand again, dragging him to the balcony. “C’mere honey..” you whispered, as jungwon hummed in a raspy voice and followed you..

you pushed him slightly to the rails, taking out your Polaroid camera.. jungwon raised his eyebrows when he noticed what you were doing, another lovesick yet embarrassed grin on his face. “Baby, I’m drunk..” he groaned, rubbing his cheek softly.

“Just pose~” you said in a teasingly scolding tone, making him giggle again as he shook his head and closed his eyes. he puffed his cheeks and pouted his lips, taking one of his hands out of his pockets and making a heart pose against his cheek. “Aw! How cute!” you cooed, an overly dramatic tone to tease him.

Jungwon’s exaggerated cute pose faltered at your words, as he chuckled at how cruelly supportive you were. but you had already snapped a photo of him at peak-aegyo form.

you giggled and flapped around the photo excitedly, biting your lip and looking down at the picture eagerly. “Awh~ you’re so adorable!” You cooed, but jungwon rolled his eyes, keeping his hand in his pocket, while the other snatched the photo.

“This is for your eyes only, got that, princess?” He said in a stern voice, but his smile was too handsome and adorable for you to take seriously.. as your heart started racing even more. you nodded anyway and fought back a chuckle.

Jungwon suddenly took the camera too, pushing you back slightly against the railing. “Here.. let me take yours too~” he cooed, snapping a cute photo of yours as you giggled, but posed for the camera in a corny manner.

and either jungwon didn’t know how to work your old camera.. or he was too busy staring at the tiny screen.. as it took forever for him to snap a picture. and judging by his paused reaction, how his eyes turned a bit hazy and his giggles stopped.. you guessed it was the latter.

you pursed your lips, hiding your shy grin..

but you walked back up to him again, reviewing the flashy Polaroid. despite his drunk state, the photo came out beautiful! “Honey, it’s gorgeous!” you exclaimed, giggling in excitement. Jungwon nodded, a stupid little grin on his face as he looked down at you, stumbling a little.. a little whisper escaped his lips “yeah.. gorgeous..”

you didn’t notice his little distracted daze, but you looked up at him in excitement again. “Let’s take a selfie, hun!” you giggled, mini-clapping as you bit your lip. jungwon raised his eyebrows and chuckled at how cute you looked, as he patted your head and nodded.

“Alright, babe.. look up..” he whispered, a hand on your shoulder as he pulled you closer to him. he puffed his cheeks again and pouted his lips, as he kneeled down a little to reach your height. you put your hands on his shoulder and tip-toed slightly.

“1, 2..” he quietly said, and you let out a soft, hushed giggle as you turned to him and smiled.. before pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek on 3, as the flash clicked through.

Jungwon’s eyes widened slightly, but a chuckle escaped his lips.. even at the simplest kisses, you still had him as shy as he was 9 years ago..

he blushed and rubbed his neck, as you snatched the picture and flapped the photo back and forth, grinning at the cute photo down. “Hey.. we look pretty cute together!” you hummed excitedly, raising your eyebrows as you showed him the photo.

Jungwon chuckled and nodded, closing his eyes in a way that said this girl.. “yes, baby..” he hummed, kissing your forehead softly. “we do look pretty cute together..” he said slowly as he pressed his cheek against the side of your head and looked down at the photo..

“Guess we have more Polaroids to add to the birthday collection~” you cooed, giggling softly, as Jungwon nodded and shrugged. “Guess we do..”

You could tell he was pretty tired from his vice and state, but you had one more thing to say..

you put your arms around his neck again, biting your lip and giggling as he pushed him back slightly from your tight hug. a much gentler, yet just as enthusiastic embrace than the one 9 years ago..

“Happy 21st, birthday boy!” You exclaimed, as jungwon stumbled back, holding you quickly against his chest with his one arm, the other still holding the camera.. “Woah..” he let out, chuckling at your eagerness.

“Mhm.. thank you, baby..” jungwon cooed, looking down at you and chuckling as he pressed another chaste kiss to your cheek. you giggled at his affection and leaned up slightly, rubbing your noses gently against each other.

“Mm.. You always know how to make my birthdays the best each year.. my girl~” he whispered with a soft giggle, recalling the bracelets you both still had on.. while rubbing his nose against yours as his eyes trailed down to your lips.

you giggled again and nodded, “and I’ll do it all the way to your 100th.. y j w~ ” you whispered back with a chuckle, leaning up and softly pressing your lips against his..

one thing’s for sure, he wanted to spend every birthday with you.. with his girl.

© weoris | tumblr.

❪ BUNNY TALK ❫ the day I come back is jungwon’s bday , xin x jw agenda is meant to be fr. hope you all enjoy !! >< who else loves hopelessly in love enha 🙋🏻‍♀️ and happy jungwon day 🐈💓

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[pomegranatelifethis]

Porcelain Doll

**English is not my native language**

WARNING: THERE IS RAPE, I MARKED THAT, YOU CAN GO WITHOUT READING. DISTURBING ELEMENTS

(A Neglected!Reader x Batfam Story)

In the beginning, Wayne Manor echoed with her laughter. He was someone who filled every room he entered with his light. He made little jokes, tried to make everyone laugh with his cheerful laughter, and said good morning to everyone one by one every morning.

He enjoyed sneaking sugar into Tim's coffee and watching the surprised expression on his face. He would applaud Dick's cool moves while training, and try to provoke Jason by arguing about the books he was reading. Despite Damian's harsh demeanor, she would try to break through the wall between them and talk about things that would interest him—Titus or cats, for example.

As for Bruce... He would always look for an opportunity to call him "Dad", but every time the words got stuck in his throat. Instead, he would sit quietly next to her, sometimes bringing her coffee with a small smile.

But nothing found a response.

At first he tried not to notice. "Maybe they're too busy," he thought. After all, they were all heroes. They lived in a city like Gotham and had responsibilities. So he decided to show himself more and make more effort.

But over time, everything became more and more obvious.

Every "I'm busy now" turned into an endless silence over time.

Every "we'll talk later" became promises that never happened again.

At one point, Dick stopped hearing his voice. Jason stopped laughing at his jokes. Even though Tim was exhausted before his eyes, he didn't even ask him once, "Are you okay?" he didn't ask. Damian didn't even seem to tolerate his presence.

But what hurt the most was Bruce.

When he tried to hug her, Bruce would just shake his head slightly and walk past her. Even when there was a problem, he always consulted others instead of listening to her thoughts. At some point, he just started to feel like a part of the wall—a shadow that existed but went unnoticed.

No matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he laughed, no matter how much he talked... When he realized that it didn't make a difference to them, the light inside him began to fade.

And then, tragedy struck.

No one knew exactly what happened that night. Maybe he had an argument with someone, maybe he was in the middle of a fight. Maybe they didn't even realize someone had hurt him.

But as he left the house that night, the last spark of hope that still burned within him flickered and went out like a candle flame.

When he came back in the morning, he was still the same person—but also completely different.

After that moment, their conversations decreased. Their smiles disappeared.

When Tim looked at him for hours, he no longer made the same fun comments. When Jason made a joke, he didn't even react. No matter how hard Dick tried, he couldn't make him laugh. Even when Damian got angry, he didn't look up.

And Bruce… Even when he realized something was wrong, it was too late.

His eyes were empty, his soul seemed to be lost in a void. It was as if there were no emotions left inside him.

She was just a porcelain doll now. Cold, silent and numb.

And you know what was the worst?

No one remembered when it broke

Porcelain Doll

November 11 – The Day It Broke

Everything started out ordinary that day.

He woke up early in the morning and helped Alfred, who was preparing breakfast in the kitchen. At that moment, he heard Damian and Tim arguing in the living room and noticed Jason tinkering with his motorcycle in the garage. Bruce was in his study, studying the reports, his eyes narrowed with fatigue.

He tried to approach everyone, as always, preserving the endless energy and joy within him.

He interrupted Damian and Tim's argument, maybe if he made a joke the atmosphere would soften. But Damian glared at him.

“There is no place for unnecessary people here.”

These words hit him like a sharp knife, and for a moment he felt like he couldn't breathe. The smile that fell on his face faded, but he tried to recover. He had hoped Tim would at least defend him, but Tim just sighed and continued talking.

He didn't say anything. He felt like there was something extra there, but he still remained silent.

When he met Dick in the kitchen, he put a big smile on his face.

“Dick! Shall we do something today?”

But Dick's answer was just a smile. “Then, okay?”

When?

Later. Always later.

Everyone had a job. Everyone had a priority.

And he was never among those priorities.

But what hurt him the most was Bruce.

When evening came, he went to her study. Maybe he could at least talk to her for a few minutes. When he knocked on the door, Bruce's voice was heard from inside.

“I'm busy.”

He swallowed. But he didn't give up.

“Dad… Can we just talk for a minute? It won't take long, I promise.”

Silence.

Then he heard his chair creak slightly. Bruce's cold voice echoed again:

“I'm really busy right now. Please come back later.”

Later.

Again?

He walked away, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

That night, no one at the mansion noticed him leaving quietly.

No one knew he was walking alone through the dark streets of Gotham.

No one knew that he felt that it made no difference whether he existed or not in this world that no longer meant anything to him.

And no one found out what happened to him. But you will learn, let's find out what happened

That night, when he left the mansion, no one noticed anything. He silently closed the door and lost his steps in the dark streets. When Gotham's night darkness combined with the feeling of loneliness, everything became even deeper. The weather was cold and the wind was harsh, but the emptiness inside was colder.

A void inside him felt like nothing made any sense anymore. No one looked at him, no one understood what he felt. In this darkness, he didn't have to prove anything to anyone.

The streets embraced him like the dark corners of Gotham. He walked slowly, his steps so light that he could not even hear himself. But then, that darkness came closer to him, deepening the emptiness within him.

Suddenly, there was something he noticed with his eyes—figures blending into the shadows. They moved so fast that he couldn't quite understand what was happening. He didn't want to face them even for a moment with his eyes. But it was too late.

Suddenly, he felt a cold touch on his back. He tried to turn back, but someone grabbed his arms hard. It was done so suddenly and harshly that he was thrown off before he even had a chance to do anything. His face hit the ground and his arms and legs curled up. Everything was blurred, he felt a cold, but painful warmth enveloping his body.

For a few minutes he tried to understand what was happening. The fear inside him only prevented him from hearing the voices. Hands continued to wrap around his body. Everything became blurry for a moment.

When the voices stopped, his joy, which once shone like the light within him, was replaced by deep silence. There was nothing left in his mind. The darkness that night was a breaking point.

He stepped aside, emotionally frozen, despite not being aware of his own body and his hands shaking. That night, he broke in a way that no one else saw anymore. And it would never be the same again.

Telling what happened that night would make every word knot in his mouth. It was a reflection of the break, the pain, the lost joy. But there was something, no longer felt—losing oneself, not belonging to anyone or anything. It all ended with the person he once knew.

And that night, among the cold walls on the west side, no one ever understood what happened to him.

Flashback – The Night It Broke

The streets were dark.

Gotham was always dangerous, but he didn't care at the moment. There was such a big void inside him… He couldn't even feel what was dangerous anymore. His feet dragged him unconsciously from one street to another.

He was cold. But this coldness had penetrated not only his body but also his soul.

At one point, he realized someone was calling out to him. At first he didn't care. But then the steps became heavier. His eyes blurred.

When someone grabbed his arm, he instinctively pulled back. But the streets were silent, there was no escape.

When the touches became harder, he realized that moment.

Something inside him was screaming. He was thinking about the voice that echoed in the Batcave a few hours ago. That short answer Bruce gave him, Damian's disdainful look...

They didn't even know he was here.

And they wouldn't know.

He resisted. But he was tired, very tired.

He felt the hardness of the cold wall on his back. His breathing became irregular. Words didn't come out of his mouth. A pair of hands, then another...

**Those who are uncomfortable with the detailed scene should not read it, maybe I will remove it from the scene**

Without wasting any time, he slid your panties down your legs and forced his big dick into your dry, unprepared hole. it hurt. . It hurt so bad. You screamed and beat him, you raised your hands and tried to beat him with pathetic tears in your eyes, but it didn't work. nothing happened. He was so strong, so big, so muscular, and so desperate that he couldn't give up his relentless and unstrategic attacks. When your screams dried up, big tears flowed from your face. When you gave up and surrendered to the intruder, snot was running down your face. and god listened. He made a few more rough, sloppy thrusts, pushing the tip of his leaking dick towards your cervix, and the man was whining on top of you - filling your pussy with an overwhelming amount of sticky cum.

**Scene ended**

At that moment, his mind fell silent.

Everything fell silent.

The Next Morning – Return Home

When he returned, the moonlight illuminated the garden of the mansion.

He was disheveled, but no one noticed. His hair was disheveled, but no one looked. His face was expressionless, but no one questioned it.

Nobody asked anything.

And he didn't say anything either.

He just went into the bathroom. The water should have been hot, but his skin was numb. It was dirty. He was in a mess. No matter how much he rubbed it, no matter how long he stayed under water, it wouldn't go away.

He knew.

But he still didn't come out of the bathroom for hours.

That day, the last remaining humanity within him broke.

And it didn't belong to anyone anymore. Not to the Batfamily, not to Bruce, not to himself.

[gf2bellamy]

hiii!

i was wondering if you could write spencer x reader, where she’s having a really bad day but spencer is coming home from a case and is exhausted, mentally and physically so she feels guilty that she would bother him with her mood

So she just hides away and is on the verge of a panic attack and spencer finds her and is all “you save me, so pls let me save you” and just comforts her (and calls her angel because 🫠)

thankyouuu so much (you dont have to do it if you dont want! no pressure at all!) i love your writing, it’s so incredibly cute and endearing <3

exhaustion — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: reader crying a lot , reader feeling guilty / tired / exhausted, spencer calls reader angel a/n: hii thank you so much for your request !! i hope you like this <3

The apartment was quiet—too quiet. You sat on the couch, curled up in one corner, staring blankly at the empty space in front of you. The TV was off, the big overhead light was off, and the only light came from the small lamp on the side table.

You hadn’t moved in what felt like hours, your mind swirling with the events of the day. It had been one of those days—the kind where nothing went right, where every little thing seemed to pile up until you felt like you were drowning under the weight of it all. 

You missed Spencer. A lot. Especially right now.

He had a way of making everything feel better. You longed for his comforting hugs and the way he’d listen to you ramble about your day.

But he wasn’t here. He was at work, buried under mountains of paperwork and case files.

The sound of keys jingling in the lock snapped you out of your thoughts. You jumped up from the couch, your heart leaping in your chest as you hurried to the door.

Spencer stepped inside, looking disheveled and exhausted. His tie was loosened, his hair was a mess, and there were dark circles under his eyes. He dropped his bag by the door with a heavy thud, and before you could say a word, he pulled you into a tight hug. 

You melted into his embrace, your arms wrapping around his neck as you buried your face in his shoulder. He smelled like coffee and faintly of paper. For a moment, you just stood there, holding each other.

“I missed you,” Spencer mumbled into your hair, his voice muffled but sincere. His hands rubbed soothing circles on your back.

“I missed you too,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. You didn’t want to let go, but after a moment, he pulled back slightly, his hands moving to cradle your face. His thumbs brushed gently over your cheeks.

“Today was horrible,” he said with a sigh, his shoulders slumping as he let go of you to shrug off his jacket. He ran a hand through his hair, looking more tired than you’d seen him in a long time. 

You bit your lip, hesitating. “What happened?” you asked softly, following him as he moved further into the apartment. 

He sighed again, sinking onto the couch and leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Just… paperwork. So much paperwork. And then Garcia’s computer crashed, so we lost half the files we needed, and Hotch wanted everything reorganized by tomorrow morning…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “It was just one thing after another.” 

You sat down next to him, your heart aching as you watched him. He looked so drained, so unlike his usual self, and you felt a pang of guilt for even thinking about burdening him with your own problems.

Today had been hard for you, but it sounded like it had been even harder for him. The last thing you wanted was to add to his stress. 

So instead of talking about your day, you reached out and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry,” you said quietly. “That sounds awful.” 

He gave you a small, tired smile, his fingers intertwining with yours. “It’s okay. It’s just… one of those days, you know?” 

You nodded, your throat tightening. You did know.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him. Instead, you shifted closer, pulling him into another hug. He leaned into you, his head resting on your shoulder as you ran your fingers through his hair. 

“How was your day?” Spencer mumbled, his voice soft and drowsy as he leaned back against the couch, pulling you with him.

You settled against his side, his head still resting on your shoulder as your fingers continued to gently card through his hair.

The question caught you off guard, and you hesitated for a moment, your hand stilling briefly before you forced yourself to keep moving. 

“It was… good,” you said, your voice carefully neutral. You tried to inject a note of cheerfulness into your tone, but it came out sounding hollow, even to your own ears. 

Spencer hummed against your shoulder, seemingly too tired to notice the slight falter in your voice. “I’m glad,” he murmured, his words muffled as he nuzzled closer to you. His warmth was comforting, but it did little to ease the tightness in your chest. 

After a moment, he shifted, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before slowly sitting up. “I’m going to get changed,” he said, his voice still heavy with exhaustion.

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze before standing and heading toward the bedroom, leaving you alone on the couch. 

As soon as he was out of sight, the lump in your throat returned, thicker and more suffocating than before. You bit your lip hard, trying to hold back the tears that had been threatening to spill all evening.

But it was no use. The dam broke, and before you could stop yourself, you were on your feet, hurrying toward the bathroom. 

You shut the door behind you with a soft click, leaning against it as the first tear slipped down your cheek. Then another. And another.

Soon, you were crying , your shoulders shaking as you tried to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape. You muttered curses under your breath, frustrated with yourself for not being able to hold it together. 

“Get it together,” you whispered harshly, pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes. But the tears wouldn’t stop.

The tears kept running, your shoulders shaking as you tried to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape.

You felt like a mess, your face hot and your chest tight. But just as you were about to try to pull yourself together, you heard footsteps outside the bathroom door, followed by a soft knock. 

“Hey,” Spencer’s voice came through the door, gentle and concerned. “Can I come in?” 

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. You didn’t know what to do. Part of you wanted to tell him to go away, to spare him from seeing you like this, but another part of you desperately needed him.

You muttered a curse under your breath, wiping at your face with the back of your hand before slowly getting to your feet. 

You opened the door just enough to peek out, your eyes meeting Spencer’s. He was standing there, his expression soft but worried. His hair was still a mess, but his eyes were focused entirely on you. 

“Hey, hey,” he said immediately, stepping closer. “What’s wrong?” 

You sniffled, your throat tightening as you tried to find the words. “I—” you started, but your voice broke, and you shook your head, unable to continue.

How could you even begin to explain? Everything was wrong. The entire day had been wrong, and now you felt like you were falling apart. 

Spencer didn’t push. Instead, he reached out, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek, wiping away a tear. His touch was so tender that it only made you cry harder.

“Come on,” he said softly, his hand slipping down to take yours. He gave it a gentle squeeze before pulling you with him, leading you out of the bathroom and down the hallway. 

You followed him numbly, your fingers intertwined with his as he guided you to the bedroom. He sat you down on the edge of the bed and knelt in front of you, his hands resting on your knees as he looked up at you, his eyes searching yours. 

“Talk to me, angel,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “What’s going on?” 

The nickname made your heart ache, and you shook your head, fresh tears spilling over. “I didn’t want to bother you,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “You had such a bad day, and I didn’t want to make it worse.” 

Spencer’s expression softened, his hands moving to cradle your face. “You could never make my day worse,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And you’re never a bother. Not to me. Not ever.” 

You shook your head again, your hands gripping his wrists as you tried to steady yourself. “But you were so tired, and I didn’t want to—” 

“Hey,” he interrupted gently, his thumbs brushing away your tears. “You save me, I save you. That’s how this works, remember?” 

You nodded slowly, your breath hitching as more tears spilled over by just hearing those sweet words. Spencer leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before pulling you into his arms.

You went willingly, burying your face in his shoulder as he held you close. His hands rubbed soothing circles on your back, and you felt some of the tension in your chest begin to ease. After a while he slowly let go, but his hands remaining on your arms.

“Tell me about your day,” he said after a while, his voice soft but insistent. “What happened?” 

You hesitated, but the way he was looking at you—so patient, so understanding—made it impossible to hold back. So you told him. You told him about everything that had gone wrong.

And he listened, his hands never leaving yours, his eyes never wavering from yours. 

When you were done, he pulled you into his arms again, holding you tightly against his chest. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “I’m sorry you had such a bad day. But I’m here now, okay? And I’m not going anywhere.” 

You nodded, your face buried in his shoulder as you clung to him. For the first time all day, you felt like you could breathe again. Like maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his shirt. 

Spencer pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. “Always, angel,” he said softly. “Always.” 

[gold-onthe-inside]

contingency operations

n. def. - a situation requiring military operations in response to natural disasters, terrorists, subversives, or as otherwise directed by appropriate authority to protect US interests.

who? spencer reid (s7) x analyst!reader summary: when a former navy SEAL threatens your base of operations, your safety is the only thing on spencer's mind. content warnings: jealous and pining spencer, gun talk, spencer kind of manhandles you, spencer getting cockblocked by jj word count: 1.8k a/n: don't hate me, i didn't have his confession speech planned.

It’s not that far a stretch for you to be the first person he thinks of — while JJ’s negotiating with her DoD contacts to get them a look at a classified operation, he’s gone upstairs to look for you. Working in counterintelligence meant you had access to all kinds of information, whether that be domestic or international. Spencer carefully carried the cup of coffee, file pinned under his arm, aiming to find you at your cubicle, except you’re standing at another one, perched on the table while you talked to another person.

Spencer’s not the kind to get jealous, or so he thought, except the guy you’re talking to isn’t like the others who occupy the floor — he’s got broad shoulders and an easy smile, and at least if he was blond, he wouldn’t have been competition. He just had to be a brunet, charming to top it off. Spencer doesn’t know if he’s ever made you smile unless you were teasing him.

The longer he stands there, the more awkward he feels, and he eventually gets the nerve to knock on your desk and make you look up — an improvement to a year ago where he would have just pretended to look lost and leave. His stomach turns when he watches you place your hand on the guy’s shoulder, squeezing as you walk away.

“Is that a bribe I see?” you asked, the corner of your lip curling as you spied the coffee in his hand.

“Nope, it’s completely unrelated to the favor I came to ask,” Spencer said, earning a rueful look as you take it and sit in your chair.

“What do you need?” you asked, sipping the coffee that was made perfectly to your liking — he'd gotten to know your preferences better over the last year, spending more time together since the Doyle case. You'd been an escape from the suffocating emptiness of the bullpen, and he'd been good company when you had been barred from Penelope's lair for 6 months.

“Anything you might have on Dorado Falls,” Spencer said, his voice rising an octave in hope that you might help as you go through your files.

“And Pen can’t do this because?” you asked, pulling up your file directory.

“She doesn’t have clearance,” Spencer said, lacing his fingers together and twisting it in his nervousness. As expected, you turn your head to look at him.

“You want eyes on a classified op you don’t have the clearance for?” you asked, raising a brow at him.

“Yes?” He's got this puppy-eyed look, like when he asks if you have lunch plans, or if you want to see a 4-hour long sci-fi film that's only available in Russian.

“Reid,” you said with a sigh, rubbing your forehead. “I can’t just—”

“He killed 8 people in one day,” Spencer insisted in a hushed voice. “He’s got a U.S. General as a hostage, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.” He watched your folded lips, your contemplative look, and he can finally take a breath when you turn your chair and acquiesce.

“You people are gonna get me fired one of these days,” you muttered under your breath, Spencer leaning over your shoulder as you find the file you’re looking for. “Navy SEAL operation, 2003, this what you’re looking for?” you asked, his breath fanning over your cheek, warm and coffee-tinged. If you turned your head, you could probably kiss his cheek — not that you would. But the thought crosses your mind as he nodded.

“That’s the one,” he said, and moved when you had to reach for the drawer, copying the file onto a clean flashdrive before ejecting it.

“I like my job, Reid,” you said, turning to look at him, which you could do forever with his coiffed hair and blue sleeves rolled to his elbows, paired with a grey vest. “If I get fired, you’re paying my rent,” you continued, pressing the flashdrive into his hand and his lips break into a smile.

“You’re a lifesaver,” he replied, closing his hand over the drive and leaving you to your work, and you watched him walk until he got to the glass doors, holding back a laugh as you watched him break into an awkward run for the elevators.

The next time he goes to your floor, he doesn’t bother waiting for the lift, running up stairs as fast as he can to get to you before the unsub does — even though it’s wholly unprofessional. He needs to be with his team, ready to talk down the unsub at a moment’s notice, but his focus shattered the moment he found out you hadn’t evacuated yet. Instead, you were focused on activating a failsafe program, in case anyone other than the members of your division moved to access the network on your floor.

“What are you still doing here?” Spencer yelled at you, almost skidding to your cubicle.

“Almost done, give me a second,” you said, gritting your teeth, fingers flying over your keyboard as you authenticate yourself. “Jesus Christ, I need to make this program faster,” you muttered and Spencer swears that if the unsub doesn’t kill you, he might.

“Really? There’s a Navy SEAL breaking into the building, and you’re thinking of more projects to work on?” he demanded, his hands pressed to his revolver.

“There’s a Navy SEAL on his way and you think a cowboy pistol’s gonna save you?” you retorted sharply.

“What do you have against my gun?” he asked, his voice rising in octave again.

“Uh, how about the reload for one,” you said. “What, do you carry around spare bullets in your pocket? Plus the recoil rules out rapid fire. What are you gonna do if you get pinned down?”

“I’m gonna keep you from getting killed,” he said, reaching out to grip your bicep. “You’re right, I don’t have the firepower of an uzi, what I can do is get us out of this room,” he finished, tugging your arm.

"Hold on, it's almost done," you muttered.

"No, I'm dragging you out of here now-" He said, but you just shrugged, still tapping away at the keys with only your left hand free.

"No, you can't," you said idly as you continued to work. "You haven't the strength to get me to move without cooperation, and I'm not leaving until I finish this."

“I-“ he opened his mouth, then closed it. What was he going to say? That you were being stubborn for the sake of it? That your life was more important than this task? That you should get up, and run with him? That he’d save you? He couldn’t voice any of those. You both knew them all anyway, and you’d be able to rebuff them with ease. “Just hurry, please.”

He leaned closer to you, trying to ignore the soft scent of your hair.

"Oh, well, now that you've told me to hurry," you responded dryly, turning your face to look at him, inches away from his. The proximity surprised him, but he barely had time to think about it before you were hitting return and taking your hand off the keys.

“Done,” you announced, standing up. “Time to run. Unless, of course, you want to argue about that too?”

"Can we?" he asked, pulling you along the corridor. "I do have a list of complaints about your recklessness."

"You have a list of complaints about everything," you retorted as he opened the fire escape door for you. You stepped through, Spencer closing the door behind you both.

"Your general attitude is up there," He admitted, running down the stairs and pulling you after him. "Your inability to keep yourself safe, your tendency to throw yourself into danger for the sake of a project—"

"Jesus Christ, Reid, if we find out a rogue operative is going to break in, you don't think we'd have a protocol for it?" you argued, frustrated.

"Yes, I believe the protocol is to evacuate," he reminded you, reaching the landing. He kept you close, though he'd never admit that it was to reassure himself.

"God, for a genius, you really are daft," you muttered, rounding the corner to another flight of stairs. "You think we'd just leave the entire network open for him?"

"No," he allowed, following your hurried footsteps. "But I don't think your life should be worth the risk. No data is worth you dying."

"Yeah, how about dozens of classified operations and cover identities that need to be kept under wraps?" you snapped at him. "I was doing my job, you're the one who came looking for me when you should be with your team."

"The team knows my priority is with you," he admitted, then immediately regretted it because that was information that he hadn't been planning to tell you.

You stopped in your tracks, staring at him. "What does that mean?"

His eyes widened and he backtracked. "The team knows that if you're threatened, the likelihood is I'll disregard protocol," he said. Well, it was the truth, even if it wasn't really what he'd meant. "We should keep moving," he said.

"No, you can't keep doing this," you demanded, pulling at his arm. "Every time, every time, you say this cryptic coded thing that I don't know what to do with. Just say what you mean, already!"

"I-I don't..." Spencer's heart was hammering in his chest, his eyes wide. The truth was, he wanted to tell you. He wanted you to know where you stood with him... but the fear of rejection would stop him every time. He was in love with you. He hadn't had the courage to admit it yet. His earpiece interrupts him, and for once in his life, Reid is almost glad to have his earpiece interrupt his thoughts.

“Reid, we’re seeing movement on the 7th floor, where are you?” JJ asked, her voice rushed.

"I'm in the stairwell with the most stubborn woman in the world," he said, looking pointedly at you as you scowled at him.

“Get back up here,” JJ replied. “We need all hands on deck.”

"I'm coming," he said, and looked at you. "So much for getting you out," he murmured. "If you run now, can I trust you won't go back to your desk?"

“Believe it or not, I have no interest in facing a 6 ft Navy SEAL,” you replied dryly.

"So that's a yes," he says, smiling despite his attempt to remain serious.

I'm in love with you, he thought, but he wasn't brave enough to say.

I don't want to lose you. He was even less willing to voice that.

"Don't stop running till you're out," he told you instead, his voice as firm as he could make it.

"Don't get killed by a SEAL," you replied, your sense of humor never failing you as you add, "Although, it would be a cool way to go out."

"I'm sure you'll be very smug about it at my funeral," he said, but neither of you were really smiling anymore. "I'll be okay," he promised you. "Get out of here."

You take one last lingering look at him, then started running down to the exit, leaving him behind.

It took him a full 5 seconds to start moving after you finally left, and the feeling of emptiness in his chest only grew with each step up the stairs.

He was in love with you, and he was determined to tell you.

Just not yet.

[covenofagatha]

A different kind of workout

Based on this brainworm (thank you worm anon)

Or: Agatha gets off to your voice while you're working out

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: g!p Agatha, desperate and horny and pervert Agatha, mentions of squirting, masturbation, daddy kink, light objectification, humping, voyeurism, praise kink

When you finally get downstairs after a slow morning, Agatha is already sitting in a barstool at the island in the kitchen. She’s absentmindedly watching something on her phone while spooning yogurt out of a container. 

She looks up when you walk in, rakes her eyes over your gray sweatpants and white tank top, and smirks. Agatha is wearing a pair of navy pants and a green flannel, hair in a loose ponytail. “Morning, honey,” she purrs. “Where are you off to looking so delicious?” 

You look down at your typical workout clothes and raise an eyebrow. “I have a private lesson.” Your job at the gym is only part-time, a way to get some extra cash so Agatha doesn’t have to pay for everything, but having to work on the weekend is unusual. 

“Aw, baby, why not just blow it off?” Agatha pouts dramatically, reaching her hand out to wrap around your wrist and pull you to stand between her legs. She puts her arms around your waist and plants open-mouthed kisses on the bare skin of your chest. You let out a muffled moan and close your eyes, losing yourself in the feeling of her lips on you. “Why not blow me instead?”

“Agatha, I—“ 

“Come on, honey,” she says in a low, seductive voice, and goddammit, it almost works. You feel her cock twitch inside her pants against your upper leg. “I’ll cover the cost. I need you to help me workout.” 

You hum and chuckle, wrapping your arms around her neck, sneaking a look at the clock on the stove over her shoulder. “Oh, yeah?” Agatha nods eagerly, hands sliding down to cup your ass and squeezes. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but I do need to get going. Maybe you should stretch a little so you don’t pull anything when I get back.” 

Agatha snorts at your quip, but reluctantly lets you go so you can grab a protein shake from the fridge. “Fine, fine,” she acquiesces. “Have a good session. Call me when you finish.” 

“Sure thing.” You press a kiss to her temple. “Change the sheets, will you?” 

Last night, things got a little messy when Agatha had made you cum with her fingers, and then with her mouth, and then finally slid her cock into your pussy and angled your hips up and fucked you harder than she had in awhile with her hand around your throat and her mouth on your nipple. 

She had pushed your legs even more wide and up and bit your shoulder and you had squirted everywhere after a particularly rough thrust, absolutely soaking yourself, her, and the bed. But you both had been so exhausted after the vigorous sex that she had pulled you to the other side of the bed, the unsoaked side, and you two quickly fell asleep in each other’s arms. 

“Mm, you don’t want to keep them drenched?” Agatha teases and you roll your eyes playfully and fix her with a stern look. “I’ve got it, baby, go get your session done.” 

Trusting her, you leave and drive the short seven minute drive to the gym. Your client is already there, and you lose yourself for the next hour in training him. He gets a personal best on bench press, so when you call Agatha in the locker room after, you’re giddy and you completely forgot what you asked her to do. 

“It was so good!” you exclaim when she asks you how it went. “It took awhile for him to build up to it, so I didn’t get to get my workout in, but it was so worth it. He booked four more sessions with me and gave me a huge tip for getting him to a PR. Apparently he’s been stuck there for a while.” 

There’s a muffled sound on the other side of the phone and you wonder if she’s even listening to you. But then the noise stops. “That’s awesome, baby, you’re such a good trainer. He’s lucky to have you. Although, you better get your workout in. Got to stay strong for me, hm?” 

You huff, certain she’s up to something, and take off your sweaty tank top, leaving you in a sports bra and sweats. “What do you want me to do?” 

“Better drop and give me as many push-ups as you can,” she says and you can practically hear her smirk through the phone. 

Looking at the floor, you wrinkle your nose. There’s no way you’re getting on the dirty locker room floor, so you take a towel out and lay it on the bench. Elevated push-ups will have to do. “Is that all? Need me to count out loud for you?” 

She hums thoughtfully. “How about…how about you say my name? After each one.” 

Biting back a comment about how transparent she’s being, you get into position, your hands gripping the edge of the bench. “Did you change the sheets yet?” you ask, mentally preparing for the push-ups, possibly your least favorite exercise ever. 

“I’m going right now,” she promises. “Better get on with it. Let’s see who can finish faster.” The innuendo goes straight to your cunt and you have to shake the sinking fog out of your mind before you start. 

Down. Up. “Agatha,” you say. 

Down. Up. “Agatha.” 

Down. Up. “Agatha.” 

You can hear a slight rustling from her end and you keep going. After about fifteen, your voice starts to get breathier, her name on your lips more of a whimper now, and she grunts. 

Freezing, you strain your ears in case she makes another noise. She notices your silence and tsks to get you back on track and you do another push-up, this time, moaning, “Agatha,” as sultrily as you can. She sharply inhales before grunting louder and then her line goes quiet. 

Did she — fuck. Your breathing starts to grow heavy and you do another one, saying her name in the same cadence. She fucking muted herself. Your breathy gasps are getting to her so much that she had to mute herself so you wouldn’t know that she’s most likely stroking her cock to your voice. 

Your arms are on fire now, and so is your pussy, but you keep pushing because she might be getting off to it. “I’m getting closer, I don’t know how much longer I can go for,” you groan weakly, the same way you do when she overstimulates you. 

“— oh, fuck, babygirl.” The words suddenly break through the phone, although sounding far away. Agatha must have accidentally unmuted herself. 

This time, you have to stop and you quickly run to wash your hands and then open the camera app. The two of you have a blink camera set up in your bedroom just in case the two of you are ever in the mood to spice things up and record — it also does wonders for when one of you is away for work — but you can tap into it at any point. 

You put the call on speakerphone and click on the video icon and your jaw drops. 

Agatha is holding the wet sheet, so wet you can see the darkened gray fabric through the screen, up to her nose, and she’s taken her cock out of her pants, just holding it. She thrusts into her fist when she takes in the scent of your wetness that still stains the bed and lets out a guttural moan. You can see her phone tossed to the side of the bed. 

Heat rushes through you and you say her name again, whining it in the husky tone that always drives her absolutely wild, and she pitches forward onto the bed, the hand holding her cock catching herself while she keeps the sheet against her nose. 

“Need you so bad, babygirl,” she mumbles. “Need your hand, need your mouth, your tits — fuck, your cunt.” 

You are so thankful that it’s Saturday morning at the gym and rarely anyone comes this early, because you can’t help but slide a hand into your sweatpants and rest it over your underwear. You’re content to just watch and listen right now, but you can feel yourself rapidly getting wetter. 

She lowers her hips onto the bed, trapping her hard, red, leaking cock between the soiled part of the sheet and her stomach, digs her fingers into the side of the bed, and grinds. “Fuck, daddy needs you,” she babbles and you can’t stop the moan that tears itself out of your throat. 

Agatha has never once brought up wanting to be called daddy, and you’ve never thought about it, but hearing her say it right now in this context — your clit pulses and now you can’t stop thinking about calling her anything else. 

You’d say it out loud right now, partly to help her get off but also because it’s got you turned you on beyond words, but your throat is so dry the title won’t form. 

“Such a good girl for daddy, so fucking hot, you feel so good around my cock,” she babbles, humping her hips faster, fingers scrambling for purchase so she can feel more, but then she stops and you almost whine. 

She glances at her phone, as if to make sure you’re still there, and you swallow roughly. “Fuck, Agatha, I can’t take much more,” you whine, all high-pitched, and you watch her furiously grab your pillow, inhale it, and then shove it between her and the bed. 

This time, you can’t resist sliding your underwear over and pressing two fingers against your clit and your whole body jerks. The relief washes over you and you frantically start to rub it when Agatha bunches up the pillow around her cock and grabs the sheet so roughly that it comes right off the bed. 

“Oh, fuck — you’re daddy’s good girl,” she keens and you slide a finger into yourself, letting out a desperate sigh that you’re not even sure she hears. “Need you so bad, need to use you — fuck, you’re daddy’s perfect cocksleeve, my fucking fleshlight, you take me so well, need you so bad…” 

She moves her legs under her so she’s kneeling and can fuck the pillow — your pillow — even harder and you shove another finger into your cunt and curl them, but it’s not enough. Only Agatha’s cock is enough to fill the gaping ache inside you. 

Her nose is buried in the sheet and you wonder if she can even still smell you on it, but it’s clearly working for her because she sobs out a broken, strangled noise and grinds even faster. You match her thrusts with your own fingers, your palm bumping against your clit each time and you sink your teeth down into your bottom lip so you don’t make a sound.

“Daddy needs you, fuck baby, daddy’s gonna cum all over you,” she pants urgently before pushing herself up and grabbing her cock, stroking it madly, pointing it at your pillow, that is now covered in her precum, and pulls the still-damp sheet over it. She grunts and babbles something completely incomprehensible, and then five long strands of cum spurt out of her cock, her hand moving quickly up and down to pump it all out. Agatha groans loudly and continues fucking her hand and that’s it for you — you cum, your warm walls convulsing around your fingers and your clit spasms against your palm.

You manage to stay quiet, but you almost lose composure when Agatha takes in the absolute mess she just made once she takes her hand off of herself and one last load of cum weakly splatters out onto the pillow as she thrusts into nothing. 

“Fuck,” she says softly, chuckling to herself while glancing at the phone, clearly proud of herself and thinking you’re completely in the dark. 

But you’ve now recovered enough from your intense orgasm and you’re back to your usual bratty self. “So much for changing the sheets, daddy,” you muse and take way too much delight in how she stiffens. She grabs her phone and then looks at the camera, but there’s no missing the way her cock twitches. 

“Did you—” She stops like she’s too embarrassed to finish the question and you nod smugly even though she can’t see you. 

“I did. Why don’t you just leave the sheets for now? No point in changing them when we’re just going to ruin them all over again the second I get home. Right, daddy?” 

She whimpers at the name and nods, grinding her already half-hard against nothing. 

You might just need to throw out the sheets after. 

@lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Hawks x Y/N | A Friday Night Between Your Thighs 💋

I recently ran a poll asking "How're We Fuckin' Hawks Tonight?" And most of y'all voted for "He's eating you out," so here's a fic about it. Enjoyyyy <3 A18+ MDNI

Here's something important that absolutely needs to be known by all - getting eaten out by Hawks is always a fuckin' pleasure.

He gets home late Friday night after a long day, long week, long month. He's absolutely exhausted as he slumps through your apartment door and drops his jacket to the ground. He barely makes it over to the couch, falling face first into the plush navy cushions.

You coo and fuss over him, quickly pushing your laptop onto the coffee table and pulling his head into your lap. You card your fingers through his hair and within seconds his eyes droop closed. He's so, so tired, and laying on your lap feels like absolute heaven. He wishes he had more energy to spend hanging out with you or taking you out on his nights off - but right now all he can focus on is the gentle way your fingertips scratch against his scalp and down his sore neck.

You let him doze for a half hour - just enough to recharge but not too much to get him hooked into REM sleep. As he rests, you slowly extract yourself out from under him, laying his head on a soft pillow and covering him with a thick knit blanket. You take care to tuck him in, smoothing the crimson feathers of his wings down lightly as you go. He lets out the tiniest of groans in reply. His wings are sensitive, after all.

You move quietly to the kitchen to get some dinner going - a thick chicken noodle soup to drive the chill from his aching bones. When Keigo's head pokes up from the couch a half an hour later, you're already ladling a generous portion into his favorite bowl. His tired eyes crinkle at the corners as you stride towards him, two heavy soup bowls in hand.

"What did I do to deserve all this?" He asks with wonder as you lay down the bowls on the coffee table and pull out your TV dinner trays so the two of you won't spill on the upholstery. You hand him his bowl of soup and he smiles up at you adoringly. He's still wrapped up in the blanket - covered with it like a cloak over his head and shoulders. He looks like a character from the hobbit, sans bushy beard or fuzzy feet.

"I guess you just got lucky." You plant a kiss on his scratchy cheek before pulling your own bowl towards you. You grab the remote and flick on a comfort movie. There's no room for stressful plots tonight.

You both dig into your soup happily. Keigo asks for seconds, and then thirds. You even manage to scrounge up a sleeve of Ritz crackers that he absolutely demolishes. You love seeing him relaxed and happy - it's a rare sight. But here he is - beautiful and curled up on your couch with a full belly. It makes your heart sing.

He's already falling back asleep. That's no surprise - after a meal Keigo is always out like a light. You know it stems from his childhood trauma - he spent the beginning of his life hungry and afraid. Having a full stomach is such a comfort to him now, and makes him feel so safe and at ease. He always knocks out for a little right after dinner. You watch his eyelids get heavy and you note that he's still wearing his street clothes.

"Kei...let me go get something comfier for you to wear, hm?" You say sweetly, placing the dirty soup pot in the sink.

"Huh?" He blinks awake. "Oh, yeah, babe. That would be great." He smiles at you again and you feel so bubbly and warm. You drag your fingertips lightly across his wings as you pass the couch and he glimmers under your touch. You hurry back to your room and open up the drawer you've dedicated to Keigo's things. He's stashed a few outfits - jeans, t-shirts and the like - in the space alongside some sweats, extra boxers, deodorant and a tiny bottle of his favorite cologne.

You scoop out a plain black t-shirt and his favorite pair of well-loved grey sweatpants. A few months ago, the back pocket tore clean off. Keito had been pretty bummed about it - this was one of the first clothing items he had bought himself after getting to leave the confines of the Commission. He knew it was silly to hold on to a pair of sweatpants of all things...but he struggled to throw them out and let them go.

In a fit of creative inspiration, you were able to spend some time after work watching sewing tutorials on YouTube. After an hour of content, you had managed to clumsily sew the pants back together. You'd also added a tiny addition - a small heart shaped patch that would be featured prominently on his right ass cheek. When you had unveiling your handy work to your boyfriend, he had gone absolutely mad with excitement. He had kissed your face all over and giggled at the tiny patch addition. He loved that you'd managed to make his favorite pair of pants even more special, and of course he loved the excuse to model his tight hero ass around the apartment for you.

You bring out the fresh outfit and toss it to him on the couch. He immediately gets up, untangling himself from the blanket, and starts to strip.

"Keigo! Dude! The window shades aren't closed!" You shriek at his indecency. He tosses you a wicked grin over his shoulder as he pulls off his shirt, shimmying it up and over his wings. If there's one thing you'll never get tired of - it's seeing your boyfriend naked. His chest is toned and his abs are well defined. His waist tapers down into a tight "v" shape that makes your mouth water. He unzips his jeans and then bends over to pull his foot out of one leg, then the other. He straightens up and turns so you can take him in fully - he's standing in the center of the apartment in nothing but his fitted black boxers. The thin material stretches across his thick thighs in a absolutely delicious way that makes you blush. And, oh, his goddamn package...you can't even begin to find the words to describe how good his cock looks half hard and cradled in that expensive underwear of his.

"I could just stay like this, babe. I don't need to put anything else on." He wiggles his eyebrows up at you suggestively. "Actually...I could lose the boxers, too, if that's what you'd want..."

"Kei..." You say breathlessly, looking him up and down. "I thought you'd want to go back to sleep."

He takes a step towards you, his deep golden eyes filled with a look of want. Suddenly he looks wide awake. Heat pools between your legs as his mouth pulls into a sly grin. He lets his gaze rake across your body, hovering across your breasts, your lips. He knows exactly what he's doing, the damn bird.

"How could I go to sleep when my amazing girlfriend needs to be taken care of?" He walks over to you, folding you into his warm embrace. His biceps flex impressively around you and once again you're in awe of how hot and fit your goddamn pro hero boyfriend is. He nuzzles his face into your neck and sits there for a moment, breathing in your familiar scent before placing a wet kiss on your flushed skin.

"My girl is so good to me...feeding me, making sure I'm cozy and well cared for." He starts to place a trail of hot kisses up your neck and behind your ear. When he reaches your hairline, he groans. "I want to return the favor before we go to bed. Gotta show you I can take care of you, too. Let me eat you out, baby?"

"Mmm, Kei." You can't help but moan at the offer. You shift your weight from foot to foot as arousal blooms in your panties.

"Yeah, baby?" He lets a hand drift lightly down your stomach and over your clothed pussy. He swirls his fingertips in a light figure eight motion around your clit - over and over until you let out a breathy moan. "You gonna let me take care of my pretty birdy?"

"Please."

It's all he needs to hear. A second later he's thrown you down on the couch and he's stripping you down. Your shirt, bra and jeans are instantly on the floor. He leaves your panties, throwing your legs haphazardly over his shoulders as he gets himself into a good position. You're already so turned on that there's a growing damp spot on the gusset of your white laced panties. Keigo breathes in sharply at the sight, biting his lip as he surveys your beautiful body. It's as if he's not quite sure where he wants to start.

"Keigo...I need you, baby." You moan out, bringing your hands up to cup his beautiful sharp face. He leans into the touch, eyes sliding shut for a moment as he just enjoys the way your fingertips feel against his jawline.

"I know, hun. I'm gonna make you feel so goddamn good with my tongue." He promises, reaching down to awkwardly push his boxers off and towards his thighs. His pretty thick cock spring free, kissing his toned stomach and leaving a messy smear of pre-cum on his abs. He takes his dick in one hand, stroking it slowly as he leans forward to kiss the soft plane of your stomach.

You inhale a sharp breath at the contact. His lips are hot and soft as they move across your belly, across your navel, and down towards the waistband of your panties. He takes his time, lavishing every inch of exposed skin he can find with his lips, tongue and teeth. He rolls the edges of his bite across the swell of your hips, and the sensation causes goosebumps to swell across your skin. When he runs his hot tongue flat under the waistband of your panties, you know you're done for.

He releases his cock from his grasp so that he can use both hands. It springs back into position, twitching lightly against his abs. You can't help but envision the snug fit of his cock deep in your cunt. It's one of your favorite feelings - the way he fits inside of you so well. The gentle lovemaking Keigo excels at that allows you to feel every glorious inch of his cock as he flexes and thrusts into you with steady rhythm.

"Time to take these off, I think." He says, hooking his thumbs under the lacy waistband of your panties and pulling swiftly down. The cool apartment air hits your pussy and you suck in a tiny breath at the change in temperature. "Don't worry, babe. I'll warm you up in a minute." He says knowingly, chuckling under his breath at your vague discomfort. He spreads your legs out a bit, staring down at your perfect pussy with an expression of awe.

"I'll never get tired of this view." He says, tracing a fingertip lightly around your folds. You bite your lip as you watch him play with you, zigzagging his fingers across your pussy without touching you in the spots that ache the most. He bends his head forward so he can start kissing up your leg, up your thigh, and into the crease between your leg and your pussy. You're dripping wet, now. Shit, you're so wet you'll need to clean off the couch later with carpet cleaner or something stupid like that.

"Keigo...Keigo please." You beg, staring up into his bright golden eyes with want. You're desperate for him - always have been, always will be.

He smiles down at you and the look is so open and genuine it makes you want to squeal. Keigo is such a damn romantic sometimes - when he fucks you, 90% of the time he wants to "make love." Rough sex is reserved for rare occasions - anniversaries, birthdays and needing to work through tension after hard missions. Keigo prefers to go slow and soft - he wants to make sure you feel his love in every thrust, every lick.

And so, when he finally brings his mouth down to your pussy to get to work, you're not surprised by the way that he takes his sweet time. He starts out at a glacial pace to let you acclimate to the overwhelming feeling of the flat of his tongue against your clit. He knows you're sensitive and get overwhelmed easily, so he likes to ease you into it as best he can. You're already overstimulated and don't think you can last too long - not when he's working at you so meticulously.

Keigo's tongue slowly swirls around your clit, trying to find the perfect rhythm to bring you to the brink of pleasure. You moan pathetically as he tries out a few different shapes - tracing the tip of his tongue back and forth across your clit and folds. After a few minutes, you relax into it, your butt sinking into the couch as he presses your legs further up over his shoulders.

He pulls his face away from your core and you moan at the loss of contact. He looks down at you with an intense expression, eyes smoky and filled with desire. For a moment, a thin string of saliva connects his face to your pussy, and you can't help but think it's the hottest goddamn thing you've ever seen.

"I'm gonna spell my name. Remind you who you belong to." He says in a low, husky voice. You stomach flips at that. He's never done anything like this before, and you wonder where he's taking inspiration from. He dives back in, and after a moment you start to decipher the "K" he's tracing over and over with his tongue across your pussy.

"Fuck!" You cry out when he licks an "E" and than an "I" across your poor, throbbing pussy. The "G" is no big deal, but the way he traces the "O" over and over and over across your clit has you bucking your hips into his face.

"Oh, you liked that last part?" He teases, repositioning himself a bit for better access. He leans back down and continues to trace the same delightful pattern across your clit until your legs start to shake.

"Kei...I'm so close." You say, trying desperately to get your limbs under control as they shake with pleasure. He doesn't stop what he's doing - he just keeps methodically swirling his tongue around you as the pressure inside builds.

He brings a hand down to grasp at the meat of your ass. He takes a cheek in hand and squeezes lightly, making you cry out again before slowly sliding a fingertip between your cheeks. He starts to circle your hole with a soft, wet fingertip as he eats you out. He's played a bit with your ass before - all just gentle touches and caresses up to this point. But now...now he's pushing and sliding and putting pressure on the spot in just the right way.

You feel your orgasm swelling inside of you, Keigo's fingers and mouth working in tandem to draw as much pleasure out of you as humanly possible. Your legs shake more than you thought was humanly possible, and Keigo's cock can be seen clearly twitching in response.

When you cum, you cry out his name (every form of it you know!). Keigo, Hawks, baby, wings, my love. You repeat each of these names with enthusiasm, worshiping the man who's head is between your thighs and taking no prisoners. The orgasm hits you hard and fast, ringing up from your quivering clit and deep into your core. You feel the release all over - in the twitch of your legs, the curl of your toes, in the way your eyes roll back.

"Keigo, babe, I love you." The orgasm rolls through you, making every square inch of you feel alive - you're practically pulsing with heat. Keigo licks you through it, keeping his face planted firmly in one spot as you rhythmically shift your hips to ride his tongue. You can't imagine a feeling better than cumming on Keigo Takami's pretty boy face. You groan out as you come down from your high. Keigo doesn't stop until you tell him to.

When you finally ask him to stop, it's because your clit is getting overly sensitive and needs a break. He nods and pulls his face away from you, grinning like an idiot. His cheeks and chin are damp with your slick, but he looks absolutely thrilled.

"Was that good, babe? Did you enjoy it?" He asks eagerly, shifting forward so he can join you down on the couch and wrap you in his arms.

"Kei, that was..." You don't have the words to describe the magic Keigo's just worked on your pussy. It was Transcendent. Magnificent. Life altering. All good terms and phrases to describe the way that you just ascended on the Number Two Hero's tongue. He nuzzles his face into your neck once more and pulls you close.

"Anytime you need, babe. I'll eat you out whenever. No questions asked."

"That's a big promise, Kei." You say, lifting a hand to his golden locks so you can scratch his scalp the way that he likes. "I might take advantage."

"Oh please." He practically begs, squeezing you lightly between his strong biceps. "I'd eat you out all day if I could. In bed when you wake up, in my office between patrols, in the bathroom at the bar when we're out with friends...babe, I wanna worship that pussy every second I can."

"You're crazy." You laugh, smushing a kiss onto his still damp cheek.

"Crazy for you." He sighs out, happy to feel your skin against his. The two of you are laying completely naked on the couch but it feels like the most natural thing in the world. He's still hard against you but doesn't put up a fuss about it.

"Want me to take care of that?" You ask letting your fingers skim across his half-hard cock. He shivers at the contact, his dick instantly pricking up at the feeling.

"Yes, please."

You smirk and bring your palm up to your mouth for him to see. You lock eyes with him - his golden irises shimmering as he watches you lick the palm of your hand up and down. You then lower the hand between the two of you and wrap it around his dick. His sharp intake of breath at the contact is music to your ears - you're going to absolutely tare him apart like this, you just know it.

"Does my babe like getting jerked off?" You ask softly, pumping slowly at his cock with your slick hand. He whimpers in reply. "Use your words, Keigo."

"Y-yes, Y/N. I fucking love it." He manages to get out between trembling lips. He slowly flexes his hips so he can thrust into your hand, but you cease your ministrations.

"No, Keigo. I call the shots with this." You say firmly, and his hips slow to a stop. Only when he's stopped moving do you resume jerking him off. After a minute, your hand starts to feel dry. You release his cock (much to his protesting) and bring it up to your mouth again. This time, you spit cleanly into the center of your palm. His eyes widen as he watches you spit twice more into your hand before bringing it back down to pleasure him. The saliva is exactly the lubrication needed, and he sighs gratefully as your small hand glides up and down his length.

"You know what this feels like?" You ask him, looking down at his hard cock admiringly.

"What?" He asks, breathless. He's unable to take his eyes away from your lovely face as you push and pull him through his pleasure.

"Feels like...Pro Hero material." You say, picking up your pace and spending a bit of extra time focusing around his tip. He cries out in appreciation - Keigo loves dirty talk. And praise. And essentially whatever you're willing to offer him in a sexy context like this.

It only takes another few good pumps to push him over the edge. You feel his whole body shiver in anticipation of his orgasm - his balls tighten, his cock is pulses. A moment later, he's splattering hot ropes of cum across your bare stomach. He's groaning out your name and giggling into the side of your neck as he spills his seed all over your soft skin.

"Fuck. You're perfect. So perfect, babe." He moans out as he finishes. He bats your hand away as his cock softens and everything gets a little too sensitive.

You lay there for a minute, wrapped up in each other on the couch as Keigo catches his breath.

"I wish you could come into work and do that for me between meetings." He sighs out, content. "That's exactly the kind of reset I need on tough days like this."

"Well your office door has a lock on it, right?" You grin - you love teasing this silly bird. "I don't see any reason why we can't just take a 'work break' together at your desk. And if I accidentally end up on my knees sucking and fucking you behind closed doors? That can't be the worst thing to happen at a Pro Hero agency." You say innocently, batting your eyes at him.

"Fuck. Stop being so hot Y/N. Now I've got an offfice kink or something." He chuckles, planting a wet kiss on your shoulder.

"Well, I'll break the illusion and be not-hot for a moment. I need to pee like a motherfucker." You try to say with a straight face, smirking as you curse.

"The mouth on you!" Keigo says, pretending to sound scandalized. But he releases you from his embrace, allowing your to scrabble to your feet and make your way to the tiny bathroom at the other end of the apartment.

You hurry off to pee and to grab a wet washcloth for yourself. You hastily wipe down your stomach - careful to smooth off all of the cum. After the quick wipe-down, you grab a fresh towel for Keigo and bustle back out into the living room. You toss him the towel and he uses a soft red feather to catch it mid-air. He cleans himself off and finally puts on the comfy outfit you had brought him earlier. The grey sweatpants hang comfortably off of his slim frame, the tiny red heart patch accentuating his juicy booty (or so you think, anyway).

"I think..." You say, surveying him with your hands on your hips. You're still completely naked, and the blinds are still completely open. But, fuck it. At this point if anyone has been watching you both through the window, they've already had a full fucking show. "I think that it's time for bed."

"I couldn't agree more, birdy." Keigo gets to his feet and plants a kiss on your forehead. "I'm gonna hop in the shower real quick and wash myself off, though. It was a long day at the agency and I think I could use a good scrub before I get in between those clean sheets of yours."

"Oh, good point. I appreciate that." You say, happy that you won't need to wash stickiness out of your sheets in the morning. You pad after him back into the bathroom where he flicks your shower to the perfect temperature with practiced skill. The room fills with steam and everything feels blissful. Your body feels loose and warm from your orgasm, and a long stream of hot water from your massage shower head sounds like heaven.

"Care to join me?" He throws you one of those devilish, flirty looks and you melt under his golden gaze. He throws all his clothes to the ground and steps into the shower, reaching out a hand to help you in behind him. He's so goddamn beautiful it makes you want to sing - you'll never tire of seeing Keigo naked. His toned body and honey gold skin shimmer in the low light of the bathroom.

You grin up at him, unable to picture a more perfect Friday night spent with your Pro Hero boyfriend. Soup, sex, shower, sleep. Honestly, what more could a girl want?

You step up behind him and into the hot, steamy shower.

"Always."

End.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

This one was inspired by a poll I ran recently...

Y'all voted for "He's Eating You Out" so obviously I had to make that happen!

Hope you enjoyed this smutty little fun about our boy Hawks!

Want more fun, smutty fics? Feel free to check out my 🔥Master List🔥 - there's plenty of more where this came from!

Stay safe and be good to each other <3

XOXO,

RedRiotUnbreakableHeart ❤️

[cuntyji]

higuruma hiromi had always been a man of justice, fairness, and… questionable life decisions, according to his colleagues. so when the entire firm spent a week complaining about a mangy, scrappy little cat that kept loitering outside their building, digging through trash cans and glaring at interns like they personally wronged her, he did the only logical thing: he adopted her.

"this is melody," he announced the next morning, standing in the middle of the office with a very unimpressed, half-bald cat perched on his shoulder like a pirate’s parrot. "she's a lawyer now."

there was a long silence.

"hiromi," his assistant said carefully. "she's… a cat."

"and so much more," higuruma replied solemnly, adjusting his grip as melody dug her claws into his suit. "she has the heart of an advocate, the soul of a warrior, and the temper of a senior partner during billable hours."

"she looks like she crawled out of hell," someone whispered.

it was true. melody had one torn ear, a permanent scowl, and a coat that looked like it had survived at least three natural disasters. she stared down at the room, tail flicking, already judging everyone’s life choices.

"we're a professional law firm," the managing partner, mr. tokuda, said, rubbing his temples. "we cannot have a cat on payroll."

"she doesn't need payroll," higuruma countered. "she works pro bono."

someone in the back choked on their coffee.

melody, to her credit, fit in seamlessly. she spent most of her days lounging on case files, knocking over stacks of legal briefs, and terrorizing junior associates. if a client walked in and she didn't like their energy, she’d hiss at them until they reconsidered their lawsuit.

"your cat just swiped at a client!" his assistant whisper-yelled one afternoon.

"ah," higuruma mused, watching melody bat at the man's tie with mild hostility. "an excellent judge of character."

weeks passed. melody claimed a corner office. interns started referring to her as "ms. melody" in hushed tones, as if she was some high-ranking partner who held the power to make or break their careers. someone made her a tiny nameplate for her desk: melody, esq.

by the end of the month, she had an email.

melody@higurumalaw.com

her signature line? "i find you in contempt."

a/n: neva written for hot lawyer man before....slay!!!

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

A Madness Most Discreet | G.W.

feat. George Weasley x Malfoy!reader

summary: Draco's older sister arrives at Hogwarts for her final year of schooling, and sets her sights on a certain red-headed trickster.

cw: MDNI 18+, pov switching, making out and adult language, light angst (we're just getting started baby), pining, Malfoy family drama and blood prejudice, confident!reader

series navigation | masterlist | divider by @roseraris

Readers POV

No one knew what to expect when the Daily Prophet reported that you, the eldest child of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, would be attending Hogwarts for your final year of schooling.

You'd been homeschooled your entire life due to your father's protective nature, but with Draco being 16, he felt you'd have adequate enough protection. Not to mention, he had more pressing matters to attend to than your schooling.

You were beside yourself with excitement. Finally, you'd see the outside of the walls of Malfoy Manor. Finally, you'd get to be around people that weren't Death Eaters twice your age, or your little brother. You loved Draco, but come on. A girl's gotta eat.

Draco and Professor McGonagall led you through the ancient corridors to the Great Hall, every portraits eye trained on you. The newcomer, the subject of many whispered conversations that passed by them less than an hour prior. It seemed even the castle itself was buzzing about your arrival.

You wanted desperately to ride the train with Draco, but your father insisted you be transported separately to minimize the scene you’re appearance would cause.

But you were not one for subtlety.

“I’m begging you to not make a scene,” Draco hissed in your ear, his Slytherin robes brushing your calves. You weren’t sure when it happened, but at some point your little brother grew like a weed and now stood a head taller than you.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, D.” You looped your arm through his, leaning your head on his shoulder. You were lying through your teeth, and he knew it.

“Seriously, y/n. There’s enough attention on us already.”

“Salazar’s tits, Draco! Would you relax? Everything will be fine.” The three of you reached the door to the Great Hall, closed firmly and unbelievably high.You swore you heard McGonagall curse under her breath, and Draco’s arm tightened around yours.

It seemed a scene would be made after all, and you fought the smile threatening to curve your lips.

“Ready, Malfoys?” McGonagall asked, turning to look over you both. The look in her eyes, almost pitying, made you hold Draco's arm a bit tighter, smile faltering.

What are they so worried about?

“As we’ll ever be,” Draco sighed.

McGonagall pushed open the doors, revealing the massive dining hall. Every table was filled with students, piles and piles of food over every surface, and more travelling on levitating trays around the room. Candles floated from the ceiling, the night sky clear and shining with stars.

Every head swiveled towards you, and you watched Draco’s demeanor change instantly. Suddenly, he was no longer Draco, but Lucius, and your stomach curdled, souring your excitement over a grand entrance.

Draco pulled you even closer to his side, casting a warning sneer to every eye that lingered too long while you walked towards Albus Dumbledore on the dais.

Your eyes ping-ponged from student to student, taking in the people you’d spend the next eight months with. You fought to keep your face neutral, an elegant mask of in difference like you'd been taught, but your heart pounded with excitement in your chest.

What a thrill to finally be seen.

The Gryffindor table was on your right, the maroon-clad students sizing you up with open disdain, but even that couldn't dampen the thrill tingling under your skin.

You spotted Harry Potter towards the center of the impossibly long table, flanked by some red-headed boy, Weasley, you surmised, and the girl you immediately recognized as Granger. Or so Draco called her, faux venom on his tongue.

His eyes flicked to her as well, and you suppressed the snicker that bubbled on your tongue. Despite your sheltered upbringing, you knew infatuation when you saw it.

You looked back towards the group, all of their eyes trained on you. But, your gaze snagged on one of them in particular, skipping over his twin beside him. His eyes were different, molten amber and sweet like honey, his hair like phoenix feathers, lips slightly parted like he was staring at a Great Wonder, but instead he was staring at you. Your heart gave an excited flutter.

Oh, there you are, a voice in the back of your mind whispered.

George's POV

Of course, George had heard that the eldest Malfoy was joining their class. Everyone had heard about your arrival. And Lucius made a point of telling Arthur shortly after the decision was made, something about ‘Keep those trouble-making twins away from my daughter.’

But, when the doors opened to the Great Hall and you entered on Draco’s arm, George had been stunned silent anyways.

You were beautiful, unfairly so. Which of course you were, you’re a Malfoy for Merlin’s sake. And George found that he couldn’t look away.

As you walked towards Professor Dumbledore, you scanned the tables, a curious glint in your gaze betraying your disinterested expression. George watched your eyes skip over Dean, then Seamus, then Hermoine, Harry, Ron—until your eyes locked on his. The air was sucked from the room, his heart hammering like a cornered hare as your gaze inexplicably held his.

Even as you continued to walk by, your eyes remained locked together, your head turning just slightly. A smirk sharpened your angelic face, and George’s jaw went slack. But then Draco gave you a nudge and you turned forward, a slight skip in your step.

“—pretty fit, eh?” Fred muttered in his ear. “Oi, look at ‘im,” Fred snickered. “George? Geooooorgie?”

Ron snapped his fingers in front of his face and George jolted back to reality. “Merlin, mate. Earth to George.”

“Sorry, what’d ya’ say?” George asked, looking around at his friends. They all stared at him with a mix of amusement and abject horror.

“Said she’s pretty fit,” Fred chuckled, bumping his shoulder.

“She’s a Malfoy,” Hermoine scolded.

“Yeah, so by definition, she’s hot,” Seamus replied.

“Exactly—”

George tuned them out as you were lead up to the stage, the Sorting Hat waiting on a stool to your right. Dumbledore was speaking, but George tuned him out as well, too fixated on the arrogant slant of your smile, the mischief shining from your eyes.

You had trouble written all over you.

McGonagall lifted the Sorting Hat, and it looked like you were speaking to it, no, flirting with it, your dark lashes fluttering.

“What is she saying to it?” Harry asked, leaning forward.

McGonagall placed it on your head, and the hat gave a great laugh, rendering the hall silent. “What a mind you have, girl. Clever, cunning, mischievous—a troublesome combination indeed. Seems even a Malfoy can be more than they appear. But even still—” The room held it’s breath, and Draco looked like he might keel over from stress, even paler than usual. “Slytherin!” The hat cried, and Draco exhaled, shaking his head at the dramatic pout on your face.

Saints, that pout. George wanted to sink his teeth into it.

“You think she’s going to be as bad as him?” Ginny asked, watching as Draco escorted you down the stairs and over to the roaring Slytherin table. People were throwing themselves out of their seats to make room for you, and you basked in the attention like a benevolent queen returned to her kingdom.

“Worse, probably,” George muttered, forcing himself to look away from you and back to his dinner. Suddenly, he found himself without an appetite.

Reader's POV

Your first three weeks at Hogwarts had been a whirlwind of introductions, lectures, and parties. The world was at your feet, the lower classman wanted to be you, your classmates wanted to fuck you, and everyone else was terrified of you. You never had to wait for a drink, or a meal, and someone was always willing to do your assignments for you, not that you needed it.

It seemed your education under your father far surpassed that of your peers, in certain subjects at least. You could out cast them all with ease, and were looking forward to when dueling would begin.

And, you seemed to see your tall, red-headed boy everywhere you went. You'd learned that his name was George, a Weasley, Draco had sneered when he caught you ogling his tall, lean frame by the lake one afternoon.

You knew how your family felt about families like the Weasley's, but despite your father's best efforts, you couldn't bring yourself to hate someone for something as trivial as what ran through their veins.

An opportunity to speak to George hadn't presented itself until you'd escaped to the library one evening. The attention you initially craved was starting to border on suffocating, and you wanted a few hours of quiet to yourself.

It was a lesson your mother had taught you. You can withstand anything so long as you hold onto yourself.

But when you entered the library and started pursuing the stacks for the Potions section, you found none other than George Weasley stretched out in a window seat, a book in his lap, his head lolled against the window as he snored.

You tiptoed closer, taking in the state of him. He was dressed in trousers and a white button down, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, his tie a little loose around his throat. His hair was messy, like he'd been running his fingers through it, and his socks were mismatched argyle.

You knew you shouldn't, but you found him extremely endearing, so soft-looking and cozy. Your fingers itched to straighten his tie, smooth his flaming hair.

Instead you lifted the book from his lap and read the cover. “Pyromancy and Magical Combustion: A Spellcaster’s Guide”

George stirred suddenly, his hands flexing around empty air.

You considered backing off and leaving him to rest, but where the fun in that?

“George,” you purred, but he didn't respond. “Geoooorge,” you tried again, poking him in the sternum. He turned his head, freckled nose scrunching. “George, darling. It's time to wake up.” You walked your fingers up his chest and tugged lightly on his red and gold tie.

“Hm?” He mumbled, brown lashes fluttering open to reveal his sleep-trodden, amber eyes. They locked on your face, widening for a second before he jolted upright. “Y/n? Merlin, where the fuck—”

“It’s alright, love,” you shushed him, using deft fingers to straighten his tie and fix his collar. “You're in the library, sleeping like an angel. Lucky it was me that found you and not Pince.” You glanced up at him, finding his jaw a little slack, his eyes round as he stared at you in shock.

You always were a little too bold for your own good. Reckless in the pursuit of what you wanted.

“I, uh, yeah. Lucky me.” He swiped a hand through his hair. “Sleeping like an angel, hm?” He asked, regaining some of that cheeky charm you’d witnessed from afar over the last few weeks. A trait that only piqued your interest further.

“You looked awfully sweet to me,” you said, batting your lashes.

“Said the rattlesnake to the kitten,” he said, a teasing lilt in his voice.

“Rattlesnake?” You scoffed, feigning hurt with a hand over your heart. “I don't bite!”

“I don't believe that for a second, Malfoy.” His eyes skimmed over your face, down to your lips.

You flashed said fangs, and he smiled back.

“Why are you in the library?” He asked, glancing over your shoulder. “Alone? I haven't seen you without Draco or one of his goons since you arrived.”

You rolled your eyes. Draco had assigned Theo Nott and Blaise Zabini to watch over you when he couldn't, and it took a concerted effort to evade them and come here. “Was getting a little tired of the entourage,” you admitted.

“A Malfoy? Tired of attention?” He tapped a finger on your forehead, featherlight. “I think you might be broken.”

“You're one to talk, Mr. Weasley. Where’s your twin? Recently severed, are we?”

He chuckled, the sound low and honey sweet. “Hufflepuff party.”

“And you didn't go, because…? You love pyromancy so much?” You held up the book, teasing him.

“Wasn't in the mood to socialize,” he said, shrugging a shoulder.

“Well, George, it seems we may have more in common than we realized.”

His eyes warmed. “Seems so.”

“Could you help me find the Potions section?” You asked, cocking a thumb over your shoulder. “Draco never gave me a tour…”

George popped up, revealing his full height and sending you back a step, and your mouth filled with a saliva. The top of your head barely skimmed his collar bone, his limbs long and lean.

He offered you his elbow. “Right this way, Ms. Malfoy.”

You rested your hand on his bicep, the burgeoning heat between you flaring brightly at even the smallest contact, and he lead you through the stacks.

He was warm and steady beside you, his cologne fresh and clean smelling, his muscles flexing slightly as he steered you. Butterflies stirred in your stomach, pleased that your instinct when you spotted him had been correct.

He was a delight. Handsome, sweet, clever. A loyal Gryffindor, the opposite of all the other pricks that threw themselves at you.

When you arrived at the clearly labeled Potions section, you turned to face him. “You’re in my Potions class, right? Are you any good?” You asked, wanting to delay his departure.

“Pretty good, yeah. Why? Need a tutor?” He quirked an eyebrow, his voice coming out a little too fast to be ready as anything but eager.

“If you've got the time.” You shrugged. “I wouldn't want to keep you.”

“Nonsense. I'm happy to be of service,” he said, winking at you, sending a fizz of desire pulsing through your blood.

George gathered the books you needed and led you to a secluded table at the back of the library, recognizing the risk of anyone seeing the two of you together, even doing something as simple as studying.

“So, what's the trouble with Potions?” He asked once you were settled in, books splayed around the table.

“My father didn't see the value in it, and it's not like we have a laboratory in the Manor,” you said, dipping your quill in your ink.

“So you were homeschooled your entire life?” George folded his arms against the table, leaning a bit closer. “Why?”

You shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “My father had his reasons.” It was a practiced answer, a safe one, and it tasted bitter on your tongue. “He thought it wasn't safe,” you added, wanting to assuage the guilty feeling.

“Not safe?” George scoffed. “Hogwarts is the safest place in the world.

“Depends on who your enemies are,” you said, finally meeting his eyes.

“And who are you enemies?” He asked, sitting back on his chair.

You brushed the soft tail of your quill over you lips, mulling over your response. “Well, George. I suppose you are.”

“That's a shame, here I thought I was just your Potions tutor.”

You snorted, caught off guard by his joking. “Should be fine, as long as we aren't friends,” you chuckled.

“Definitely not friends.” He smiled. “Now, the thing about Beezors…”

George's POV

George watched you pour over your notes, brow furrowed slightly in concentration, and you did that god-forsaken fucking thing with your quill again.

Dragged the feather over your lips with the barest touch, the movement unconscious, and it made his heart seize every single fucking time.

He could hardly believe he was sitting across from you, walking through the curriculum you needed for the first Potions exam in two weeks. You'd missed a lot being homeschooled, but we're clearly incredibly bright, and you picked everything up with ease that rivaled Hermione.

He'd been fascinated by you from the moment you walked into the Great Hall, and managed to snag his eye every time you entered a room there after. You occupied his mind too, so much so he was already behind in Charms, but he wasn't even quite ready to admit that to himself yet.

You were a Malfoy, after all. It didn't matter that you were interesting, or clever, or beautiful. You were a Malfoy. End of story.

He should get up and walk away right now.

What right did you have asking him for help? You had everything. And you were smart enough to do this on your own. You didn't need him. And he shouldn't want you.

Oh, Merlin. And he didn't want you….right?

He couldn't. He barely knew you beyond your reputation and the whispers he'd gathered in the halls, but it felt like he did. Like he's known you for ages, the quiet between you comfortable despite his racing thoughts.

But no, surely not. He didn't want you. Nope.

You dragged you quill against your lips again, sighing softly, and he nearly melted to the floor like a lit candle.

Fuck. He wanted you.

“George?” You called, waving a hand in front of his face, and he jolted back to the present. “Dozing off again?” You teased, voice sweet as treacle.

“No, was just, ah, trying to remember what we covered fourth year,” he said, rubbing the back of his head and hoping you didn't catch the flush in his cheeks.

But based on the twinkle in your eye, you certainly did.

“Maybe we can cover it tomorrow?” You asked, closing your book and setting down your quill. “I'm not sure I can absorb anything else tonight—” a soft yawn punctuated your words, sweet as a lamb, and George had to look away so he didn't memorize the exact shade of your tongue.

Definitely don't meet up with her tomorrow. “Yeah, same spot?” He asked, gathering his things as well.

“It's a date.” You winked, and flitted between the stacks, disappearing from his sight.

George slumped back onto his seat, scrubbing a hand over his face.

When he showed up ten minutes early to the library the following day, he'd never felt more pathetic in his life.

All day, he told himself he wasn't going to go. That he was going to leave you hanging and end this before it got started. Whatever this was.

He was betraying his family by sitting in this chair, guilt churning and acrid in his gut. They would be so disappointed him. He could already hear his mother in his mind: you're a spineless fool.

And it was the truth. He'd lied to Fred and Ron about what he was doing, and snuck past Hermione and Harry who were studying by the entrance. He was lying to and hiding from the people he loved most, all for a Malfoy.

He was about to get up from his seat when you came breezing around the corner, a cauldron in your arms. He continued to rise but instead of fleeing, he took the cauldron from you with a chastising tsk.

“Stealing from Snape, are we, rattlesnake?” He set the cauldron on the table, turning back to you.

“I didn't steal it!” You argued.

He raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk lifting the corner of his mouth.

“I'm going to bring it back later.” You rolled your eyes and dumped your bag onto the table, potions and herbs rolling out. “How else am I supposed to learn about potions?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Merlin, you were adorable. Pink cheeked from carrying everything, your hair windswept, eyes shining with that rebellious light. He was helpless, drawn to it like a moth.

“Just don't blow my eyebrows off,” he grumbled.

“No promises,” you teased back.

The two of you toiled the rest of the evening away over the cauldron, successfully making two of the four potions Snape had covered this semester.

You stood shoulder to shoulder over the bubbling green liquid, and he glanced down at you, at the victorious little grin on your face, and he felt his insides twist.

He reached to grab a bundle of herbs on your right, and you turned to grab an ingredient on his left, and your bodies bumped together in the middle, faces nearly colliding.

“S-shit, sorry,” he said, pretending he couldn't smell the expensive perfume on your skin. Like it wasn't rotting his brain from the inside out.

“Sorry for what?” You asked, leaning the rest of the way to get your ingredient, apparently completely unbothered by your chest pressed up against his, your face brushing his shoulder.

“Uh, I—”

“So tense, Georgie,” you murmured, reaching a hand up to squeeze at his flexed bicep. “I don't bite, remember?”

Every scrap of attention zeroed in on your hand touching his arm, his heart thundering in his chest. Georgie. The nickname rattled around in his empty mind. Georgie. Georgie. Georgie.

“I'll try,” he rasped, clearing his throat.

An hour later and you finished the third Potion, the sun long ago set over the horizon. It wouldn't be long before Pince came looking for stragglers, and you'd be booted from the library.

George glanced over at you, your cheek propped against your palm, lashes fluttering as your lids slid closed. Something warm bloomed in his chest watching you doze, peaceful and untroubled, trusting him enough to let your guard down so completely.

As quietly as he could, he picked up his things and yours, and discarded the potion. Carefully, he tucked the cauldron behind one of the the shelves for your next study session so you wouldn't have to lug it back and forth, vowing to take the fall if Snape caught on.

“Rattlesnake,” he cooed, nudging your shoulder. “C’mon, we gotta get out of here.”

You groaned, nose wrinkling before you blinked open your eyes at him. A sleepy smile stretched across your face, and his knees turned to jelly. He wanted to kiss you so badly it stole his breath.

“Sorry, Georgie,” you mumbled, covering your mouth when you yawned.

“All good, love,” he replied, handing you your things. Shit, he cursed himself. Love had just rolled off his tongue, easy as breathing.

But you only smiled at him, slinging your bag over your shoulder and getting to your feet. “Thanks for your help,” you said. “Do you think you'll have time to meet next week?”

Quidditch matches started next week, eating into the little bit of free time he had. But he'd figure it out.

“Could probably meet Monday after practice, if you'd like,” he said, shouldering his own bag.

“Monday would be great.” You rose up onto your toes to peck his cheek. “See you then!” You tossed over your shoulder as you walked away, leaving him a flustered mess.

He rubbed his hand over his cheek, the place your lips brushed his skin still tingling, and sighed. How could he stay away from you? Why should he? Because of your last name?

It was the Malfoy’s job to be stuck up and judgemental, not his. And you seemed to be nothing like them…

Then, something occured to him. A thought so upsetting it punched the air out of his chest and he dropped back down onto his chair.

What if this was a trick?

What if this was a way for the Malfoy's to get close to his family? To get them to let their guards down? What if you were just a beautiful Trojan Horse?

He shook his head, trying to shake the dark thoughts loose. You couldn't be, not with those bright eyes and rebellious smile. He couldn't imagine you being so cruel. But then again…you were a Malfoy.

How could he know for sure?

He left the library with his head hung low, doubts swirling in his mind like a storm, making his stomach churn, but one stood clearer than the rest. Disruptive as a strike of lightning.

Was it worth the risk?

Reader's POV

Your connection with George deepened over those few study sessions, and it seemed he was just as into you as you were him. From the knocked together knees, to his fingers brushing against yours when he passed over an ingredient or book, to his eyes lingering on you over the cauldron, the signs were plentiful.

But Monday night, he'd been different.

He was acting strange the entire study session, watching you closely, giving clipped, one or two word answers. His shoulders seemed almost heavy, burdened.

At first, you chalked it up to him being tired after practice, but instinctively, you knew it had something to do with you.

Unable to bear it any longer, you turned to him after shelving your books. “Is something wrong, George?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

He froze in place, refusing to meet your eyes. Then, something seemed to give way in his expression, a loaded sigh loosing from his chest. “I'm not sure we should keep doing this,” he admitted, sounding almost pained. “Your family would have a conniption, as would mine.”

You let your arms fall to your sides. It was only a matter of time before this came up, you supposed. But, you were prepared for it. “And?” You asked, risking a step closer. “I'm not sure about you…” you placed a hand on his chest, feeling his heart race, his muscles tense under your touch. But he didn't pull away. “But I make my own decisions.”

He placed his hand over yours. “You could have anyone you want. So, why me? What's in it for you?”

You recoiled slightly, removing your hand from him and taking a step back. “You think I have some ulterior motive.” It wasn't a question, nor was it a shock. Everyone always assumed you did everything with malicious intent. You just thought maybe George saw you differently.

George's eyes softened, sensing your hurt, but he didn't back away from his claim. “I think your father has it out for my little brother and his best friends, and I won't put them in danger just because I want to kiss a girl.”

Your heart gave a jilted pang, confusion making your brows furrow. You knew he was being completely honest. He wanted to kiss you, but he was afraid of what the consequences might be. Consequences you hadn't even really considered.

George had every reason to be skeptical of you. But your only ulterior motive was getting closer to him, and maybe getting under your father's skin a little should he ever find out.

“I don't have an ulterior motive, George. Nor do I take orders from anyone, least of all my father. I have no ill will towards your family, and I'm sorry that mine has treated you all so poorly.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Swear it,” he said, holding up his pinky.

You wrapped your pinky around his. “I swear.”

His eyes searched your face and you saw the moment he decided he trusted you, eyes melting like honey. "I trust you, rattlesnake." A smirk broke through his serious expression. “Am I going to regret it?”

Relief ballooned in your chest. “In the best way,” you purred, bringing his pinky up your lips and brushing a kiss across his knuckle.

His pupils dilated, breath hitching in his chest. Then you were moving, his body pressing you backwards against the bookshelf, dropping your pinky to brace your hips with both hands.

“You're awfully confident,” he whispered in your ear, making your stomach flutter with anticipation.

You hadn't felt this excited in far too long, his touch, his voice as tempting as the finest wine.

“Are you going to find out why? Or keep prattling on?”

With a final exhale, he crashed his mouth to yours, his lips supple and insistent, your toes instantly curling in your shoes. You opened up for him and he licked into your mouth with firm strokes, deliberate and claiming. He tasted like lemon drops and black tea, and you were desperate for more of it.

Every other kiss you'd had felt lifeless and disappointing, empty and wet in the worst way. But this, the fervid caress of his searching tongue, felt like wildfire: burning, consuming, ravenous.

“George,” you gasped when his lips traveled down your neck, the tip of his nose a cold contrast to the heat of his mouth.

He nipped at your pulse, sucking the skin between his teeth to leave a mark.

“George!” You giggled, pulling on his hair to stop him.

“Y/n,” he hummed, smiling at you. His lips were puffy and slicked with spit, his eyes sparkling.

Two could play at that game.

You leaned forward, licking a long stripe from the hollow of his throat, over his Adams apple, to the underside of his chin.

“Shit.” His hands tightened on your waist, his head falling back to give you more access. You bit down, laving your tongue over his fevered skin, and his let out a low groan. “You little liar,” he gruffed, one of his hands coming up to tangle in your hair. “You do bite.”

You giggled, lapping at the light purple mark you left behind. “I'm not sorry.”

He tipped your head back and reconnected your lips, teasing and light. “You have no reason to be. Bite me all you like, rattlesnake,” he murmured between unhurried pecks.

“Careful what you ask for.” You caught his lower lip between your teeth and tugged gently, earning another groan, before kissing him a final time, soft and lingering.

Hearing the distant chime of the bell tower, you finally broke apart. Curfew. Pince would be around any second.

You brushed your nose against his. “I have to get back to the common room,” you sighed.

“’Course. Wouldn't dream of keeping you from your beauty sleep.” He brought your knuckles to his lips, kissing them lightly. “See you at the match tomorrow?”

You nodded, pulling your still tingling lower lip between your teeth. “Absolutely. I’ll be in green.”

“Ouch,” he chuckled, pretending to wince. “I'll have you in red soon enough.” He released your hand and walked backwards out of the aisle, his eyes trained on you until he was forced to turn the corner, his hand sticking out to wave a final goodbye as he disappeared.

You placed a hand over your thundering heart, a little stunned by your bodies intense reaction him.

What in Salazar's name has you gotten yourself into?

George's POV

George left the library achingly hard and shook to his core, the blood that hadn't traveled south roaring in his ears.

That was the singularly most earth-shattering kiss of his life. And it was with the absolute last person he should be kissing.

George wasn't the type to get physical so quickly after meeting someone, but you were irresistible. And seemed to want him as badly as he wanted you, a fact he struggled to get his head around.

And even though he knew he should, he couldn't bring himself to regret a second of it. In fact, he was already anxiously awaiting the match tomorrow, debating whether or not he could squeeze in some extra practice at dawn while he walked back to his dorm.

As soon as he opened the door, he found his brother, Ron, Harry, Seamus, and Neville sitting up in their beds, and stopped short.

“Hey George!” Harry called, waving.

“What’s the matter with you?” Fred asked, clocking his trepidation immediately.

George had to fight to urge to clap a hand over the mark you’d left on his neck. Would they smell your perfume on his skin?

“Nothing? Why?” He asked, heading towards his trunk.

Fred eyed him suspiciously. “Where have you been?”

“Library,” George answered, a little too quick.

Fred studied him a moment longer, then snapped his fingers, a huge grin on his face. “You were with a girl!”

The rest of the boys oooooh’d, and George felt his cheeks heat.

“Yeah, right. You know me, drowning in babes,” he argued, throwing a towel and his pajamas over his shoulder. “I'm going to take a shower.”

“Ah, so just a snog, then?” Seamus teased.

George flipped them off and left for the showers, praying they forget about it by the time he got back.

Reader's POV

“Where the fuck have you been?” Draco snapped, rounding on you as soon as you stepped back into the Slytherin common room.

“Places,” you reply, kissing his cheek before strolling by.

He caught your wrist, tugging you back to him. “Y/n…”

“Draco…” You rolled your eyes. “I was in the library, relax.” You pull away from him and walk towards the girls dormitory, Draco on your heels.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time there,” he accused, an edge of suspicion in his voice. “I would have gone with you, or Blaise or Pansy—”

“I wanted to go alone,” you snapped, stopping so suddenly he bumped into you. A hush fell over the common room. “I don't need a fucking body guard, Draco. You need to back off.”

Draco's nostrils flared, his eyes narrowing. “Stop it,” he hissed. “We can talk about this in private.”

“Why? Is your ‘bad guy' reputation so fragile?”

His jaw flexed, and you could tell your words stung, hurt flickering across his eyes.

You sighed. “D, I can take care of myself,” you murmured.

“But if something happened to you…” his voice softened, trailing off.

“Let me have this,” you asked, taking his hand in both of yours. “Please. I've never had any freedom.”

He squeezed your hands. “I know, I know. Just…let me know where you are, at least? Don't just keep disappearing—what is that?” His eyes hardened, lowering to your neck.

You fought to hold your composure. “What? Oh, the burn? I bumped it with my curling iron this afternoon.” You grazed your fingers over the mark George had left, a flurry of butterflies kicking up in your stomach.

Draco dropped your hand, and guilt soured your fuzzy feelings.

“Who is it?” He growled.

“Draco—”

“You think I can't tell when you're lying?” He grabbed you and lead you into a quieter part of the common room, shadowed from onlookers. “Who was it, y/n?”

You glared daggers at him, squaring your shoulders. “I suggest you mind your own business, or we will have a fucking problem. I will not hesitate to dismantle every brick of this bullshit castle you've built. Clear?”

His jaw ticked, eyes blazing. “This is not a fucking game,” he said after a tense moment of silence.

“Just trust me, okay? I’m fine. We’re fine. Not everything is life and death.”

“Y/n, you aren't listening—”

“No, you aren't listening. We're safe here. And I have my brother to protect me from anything scary, yeah?” You reached up to pinch his cheek, and he scowled, swatting your hand away.

“I can't protect you if I don't know where you are,” he argued.

You sighed. “I'll try and tell you from now on, okay? But you can't be with me 24/7. You need to have a little faith in me.”

“It's not you that I doubt,” he grumbled, but you could tell that you'd won this round.

“Goodnight, Draco. And don't stay up too late, you've got a game tomorrow.” You poked him hard in the chest, and he rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Goodnight, sister.” He waved you off and you ascended the stairs to the girls dorm, leaving him to his friends, and you to toss and turn in your bed, dreaming of George.

Thank you for reading!

If you'd like to be included in the taglist, comment below!

taglist: @pxige1234, @simars3, @jaybbygrl, @irlpokemonsworld, @just-some-random-blogger

[scissorcentral]

Abby with a reader who's just •_• bug eyed and silent lmao, very oblivious to everything, always in their own world, but very endearing and sweet to abs <3

Abby with a more introverted(?) reader-

warnings- (there aren't really i don't think)

-Abby literally thinks you are the most adorable human being ever. Whenever you space out during group discussions, she literally can't help but laugh to herself before slinging her arm around you and holding you against her until you come back to reality (because of course you're always directly next to her).

-If anyone tries to make little jokes or tease you about your speaking habits or anything about you, she will shut them up so fast you literally won't even have time to notice. It gets a point where nobody even thinks about trying because Abby will either clap back, aiming to destroy their ego, or give them the most insane death glare. Like the type of look that could kill, and it probably could if she tried hard enough.

-You can't help but mess with her fingers and drift off sometimes and she literally will have like hearts in her eyes as she watches you. You're completely silent just running your fingers all over her hands and she will just watch in awe with a soft blush on her cheeks. She's literally enamored by you and whatever you do.

-Whenever you are out on patrol together, she ALWAYS makes sure to keep an eye on you no matter what. She knows you can get a little off track, your mind sometimes wandering causing you to wander a bit to. After her dad's death she refuses to lose you so she makes sure to never let you out of her sight as long as she can help it.

-Sometimes you guys will sneak off and find a building with an accessible roof and you will just sit for hours. Sometimes you guys won't even speak, and other times Abby will talk for the entire time as you listen to every word she says. Sometimes its rant and other times it's some stupid store that sends you both into a fit of giggles. Her main goal is always getting some laughs out of you which she always does, rant or not. She lives for the sound of your laughter.

-Her dream is to be able to see the world through your eyes. How you are able to get through most of your days without talking or talking so little. How you can be so oblivious to things but also so insightful to other things. She is so obsessed with you and how you go about your life. She wishes she could know what it's like, but even though she really can't she does everything in her power to understand you.

-Before you guys got together, Abby had been literally in love with you, but you never noticed her advances. She would get so angry, like screaming into her pillow angry. It would make her so embarrassed how pathetic she'd get but she still continued to try. Eventually you caught on after she had to be so extremely blunt. Now the whole thing is something she just teases you about, but your obliviousness is something she has grown to completely love. It's so cute to her now(it wasn't cute when she was putting her reputation on the line with her extremely obvious advances(well obvious to everyone but you))

-If you ever get lost in your head she's always there to try and ease you out. It becomes a thing she is really good at. Holding you close to her, her thumbs rubbing softly over your skin, light kisses on your temple. It's sweet and something you become incredibly grateful for. You will always show your appreciation by leaving a new coin on her nightstand that you had secretly found on a patrol.

-Abby makes it her fucking mission to see you smile. Whatever she has to do she will do (which can be a little concerning). She thinks your smile is the cutest thing in the world and would literally die to see it once more.

-If anyone in the stadium says legit one negative word about you, she will lose it. Nobody is allowed to talk bad about you. Ever. She is so extremely protective of you. You're her everything. She knows you aren't classified as a "completely normal person" by everyone's else's standards but that's why she loves you so much. The way your eyes will glaze over slightly when you space out, the way you'll just stare at people when they send you a backhanded compliment, and the way she's the only person who gets to hear you speak and even then, it's usually quiet whispers. You've got her completely whipped. You got the Abby Anderson completely and utterly whipped.

notes- Hi. I am actually horrified to post this as I haven't written and posted on Tumblr in multiple years so it's weird to be back. This is such shit, but I hope you do enjoy. To me this writing feels like a fourth grader who just learned a few new vocab words but whatever. I'll probably go back and fix it and add more but I'm still having a crisis from just writing this so we will see. Hope you like it.

(also i didn't know how to word the title but i tried.)

[lightlyblooming]

What if it wasn't a joke?

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: What if Natasha’s teasing wasn’t a joke? 

Words: 2.1k

I tapped my fingers on the glossy wooden table in front of me, following the tempo of the conversation around me. The cacophony of voices flitted through my mind, going in one ear and out the other. 

What was supposed to be a swift debriefing with the rest of the Avengers had stretched into its third hour. I’d lost my patience two and a half hours ago when Tony Stark started talking about possible technological improvements he could add to the Avenger’s headquarters. It had only gone down from there.

I stared down at my leather folder opened on the table, letting out a slightly too-loud sigh when I saw the two sentences of notes I’d managed to put down. Only two sentences of actually useful information. Three hours, two sentences. Three hours for two sentences. 

My fingers curled into a fist. I picked up my pen, if only so that my frustration wouldn’t show. I hovered the pen over the clean piece of paper, but that only caused my anger to grow because there wasn’t anything to write.

My phone buzzed in my pocket and I dropped the pen, grateful for the distraction.

I leaned back in my chair and pulled out my phone, ignoring the sidelong glance I got from Steve Rogers. Phones technically weren’t allowed during meetings, but confidential information had stopped being shared hours ago. I doubted it’d matter if I leaked a conversation over what type of flavoured water they wanted in the lounge this month.

A smile tugged at the corner of my lips as I read the notification that lit up the screen. 

Natasha: Busy daydreaming about me?

I raised my eyes to Natasha, my smile growing further when I noticed she had already been watching me. Her blue eyes twinkled with humour, but her features betrayed nothing. Her expression was just as blank, severe, and stoic as it had been for the last few hours.

Natasha only held my eyes for a handful of moments before she turned away, returning her steady attention to the conversation.

I texted back: I’m just thinking about how this meeting could’ve been an email.

Natasha picked up her phone a few moments later. Her expression didn’t change, and I was too far away to notice any other minor changes. I looked back to the nearly blank paper in front of me. 

Every second I spent waiting for her response felt like an eternity. I started to tap my fingers again.

After what felt like forever, my phone buzzed.

Natasha: I wouldn’t have seen you if it was an email.

A second later, she added: And I do enjoy watching you when you’re frustrated.

My eyes shot to her. She merely stared back at me, watching, waiting. I blinked at her, hoping she’d offer any kind of reaction for me to read. Instead, she picked her phone up, her fingers moving across the screen.

I lowered my eyes to the paper and put my phone on the empty sheet. I placed my elbow on the table and rested my head in my hand. My leg, the traitorous thing, started to bounce. My body tensed with every moment that passed. My breaths grew shallow as I waited for that screen to light up.

What was taking her so long? She had to be writing an essay if it was taking her this long to finish. I couldn’t help but wonder if she liked leaving me waiting.

My heart skipped when the screen lit up, only for it to drop deep into my gut when I read the text.

Natasha: It’s even better when you get flustered and start blushing.

I shut off my phone and shoved it into my pocket.

My head thundered in my chest as heat prickled on my cheeks. I silently cursed myself for playing right into her hand. 

It wasn’t like it was a surprise. She’d joke far too often about how easy it was to throw me off and the enjoyment she got from it wasn’t a secret. She always pushed it and tested it, seeing what measure of responses she could get. One glance. One smile. One whispered word. One step too close. A touch that lingered too long. For fuck’s sake, one sentence that toed the line between friendly banter and flirtatious teasing would leave me dumbed down and unable to speak for hours.

I took a deep breath and ran my hand through my hair, hating the way I shook. I focused on my breaths, reread those two stupid sentences written on the paper. I willed the heat to fall from my face. I counted through my breathing. I picked up my pen and clicked it over and over again.

I was a fool for being affected by her. It was nothing. It meant nothing. It was a game to her, just a way to fill time and push away excruciating boredom.

I reminded myself of all those moments Natasha had toyed with me, only to pull away a moment later. 

I remembered the hours we had spent crouched in some dark hole, waiting out a mission, her faint touches oh-so-clear in the pitch black. I recalled the way she had looked at me days later when I had brought it up, her face flush with confusion and eyes so cold it was like looking at a stranger. 

I remembered the first time we’d exchanged personal numbers after becoming part of the Avengers. It had only been a handful of years since we’d worked together in the Red Room, yet she treated me like she’d never seen me before.

I remembered the hours of texting we’d do in those fluid hours of the night when time lost all meaning. Then the absence of contact in the morning, followed by stilted small talk that’d build a chasm between us. 

I glanced over at Natasha. My heart stung when I saw her stoic expression fixed on Wanda Maximoff.

I closed the folder and got to my feet. The rest of the Avengers at the table glared at me, but I ignored them. There was no reason for me to stay. The important parts of the meeting were done. I hadn’t needed to chime in for well over an hour. And I didn’t feel like torturing myself with Natasha’s cold distance for any longer.

⧗

I stirred my half-melted cocktail with the metal straw. The metal clicked against the glass. A chill wind brushed over my skin and rustled my hair, causing goosebumps to prickle along my arms. 

The Avengers compound had long since settled into its peaceful night operations. All the lights had been dimmed, the large mass of day staff had been sent home or to their rooms, the headache-inducing sound of jets coming and going had finally stopped. These small hours of the night were the only time I got any solitude. 

I watched the tarmac from the balcony, taking in the quinjets that had been left out and the skeleton crew that maintained them.

They always had to be ready, waiting, should the sky fall open and the Avengers had to be on the other side of the world in an hour. I always had to be ready to answer the call, be prepared for anything at any moment. I hadn’t even left the compound for a non-Avengers related reason for… months. It was too risky.

I looked down at the cocktail in my hand and braced my arm against the balcony railing. I sighed and pursed my lips at it.

Despite the small amount of alcohol I’d had, I could feel the warmth of drunkenness spreading through my limbs and a delightful buzz that clouded my mind. I was already too far gone to fly, or fight, or do any amount of strategic thinking. Drinking more would only multiply that and make my recovery take longer. If there was an emergency and I got called out--

The door to the balcony softly clicked open and I whipped my head around, muscles going taught. 

The moment I laid my eyes on Natasha, who stood silently in the doorway, I let out a breath and allowed my shoulders to slump. The warm glow of the Avenger’s lounge silhouetted her form and took the sharp edges out of her appearance. 

She almost seemed vulnerable there, in her sweatpants and loose t-shirt. Her hair had been pulled back into a braid. The light caught the loose strands of her hair, making it look like strings of spun gold. My eyes couldn’t help but wander to the smooth plane of her neck. I couldn’t stop the prying thoughts that wondered how it would feel, how it would taste, if she’d just let me get close enough.

I pressed my lips closed and squeezed my eyes. I gave myself a moment to breathe and settle my system before I turned around and fixed my eyes on the cocktail cradled in my hands.

The stupid drink, wiping away every ounce of self-preservation I had.

The door clicked shut and Natasha walked up beside me, bracing her arms on the railing, mirroring my position. A beer bottle hung from her fingers, dangling precariously over the distant ground. Natasha took a swig and from the sound of it, she was quite far into her drink as well. At least I wasn’t the only intoxicated one.

I sipped at my now fully melted cocktail. I winced at the overwhelmingly sweet liquid. Without the ice to break up the taste, it had turned into a cloying mixture of syrup and rum.

“Too hard for you?” Natasha’s voice was low and heavy. 

Her voice tugged at something deep in the pit of my gut. My heart fluttered in my chest and my breaths shuddered. Heat prickled at my cheeks, and I prayed that Natasha thought it was because of the alcohol. I glanced at her out of the corner of my eyes and knew my prayers had fallen upon deaf ears when I saw the teasing tilt to her lips.

I don’t know if it was the alcohol or the illusion of sanctity the darkness granted, but the truth came out before I could even consider filtering my words, “A bit.”

Natasha’s ghost of a smile grew into a full-on grin. Her voice dipped into a sultry drawl that raked along my bones, “You should let me buy you a drink some time. I can show you what hard feels like.”

My hand tightened around the glass. I opened my mouth, prepared to spit out one of the million scripted rejections I had tucked in the back of my mind, but stopped short.

I schooled my features and turned towards Natasha. I took in her stance: her relaxed shoulders, fingers that fidgeted with the rim of the beer bottle, her ram-rod straight back, her attentive eyes, her welcoming smile, the way her head tilted just-so. She was expectant, waiting, and… nervous? A furrow ghosted in the space between her brows. Tiny fragments of uncertainty flashed across her face.

I swallowed and stared into her eyes. I tapped my thigh with my free hand. Silence stretched between us. My muscles tensed with every second that crept by.

I was such an idiot. A fool. My hesitation revealed more than I ever wanted Natasha to know. My growing silence stripped me bare and made me more naked than I would’ve been if I had merely removed my clothes. 

“Or--” Natasha’s words were slow, hesitant, searching, “--you can buy me one of those cocktails you always get, we can get drunk, and I can stop calling you a lightweight.”

I pressed my lips together and searched Natasha’s expression. All I found was a gentle vulnerability. There was teasing, yes, but behind all that was an openness I’d never seen in her before. 

What if, this time, it was a genuine offer? What if I said yes? Would she take me to a bar, let me order her a drink, and end the night with more than a painfully professional handshake? Or would she laugh and back off, making me look like a fool for even considering the offer?

My mind was too clouded to make a clear choice. I couldn’t discern anything more from her expression. I couldn’t calculate all the possible responses. 

I let out a shuddering breath and, with the type of courage I could only get from the alcohol coursing through my system, said, “Only if you promise to show me the best places.”

Natasha let out a breath and straightened. All signs of tension smoothed from her face. A light seemed to spark in her eyes, bringing a glowing warmth to her features. 

“Promise,” Natasha said, her voice strung with the softness and truth in her oath. 

[pomegranatelifethis]

I got another one!

Reader REALLY smart I am talking smarter then ALL of them but being passed on as useless untill solving a problem which is made for Harvard university final year students in a matter of seconds?

Thank you for your time!

**English is not my native language**

**I know it's bad But it will be sorted out**

I loved your idea and made a little sketch

---

In the Batcave, Tim sat at the computer, intensely focused on the screen. The problem in front of him was challenging—a mathematical equation designed for Harvard University senior students. The room was silent, except for the sound of his fingers rapidly tapping the keyboard. With every move, he believed he was one step closer to a solution, but still, he couldn’t find the answer. Numbers and formulas on the screen tangled together, each one seemingly going in its own direction, never quite coming together.

At that moment, the room was empty aside from you and Tim. Everyone else was off doing their own thing, but Tim's problem was the toughest of them all. You couldn't help but think of the way they all saw you—Bruce’s little girl, a mistake from a one-night stand, dismissed as nothing more than a nuisance. Everyone treated you like you were dumb, like you didn’t matter. They didn’t understand you, but that didn’t bother you. Not really. You knew what you were capable of, even if no one else did.

You watched Tim work for a while, then walked over to him, standing just behind his shoulder. "Need some help?" you asked, your voice calm and collected, tinged with just a hint of confidence.

Tim glanced up at you, pausing for a moment, then shook his head. "This is a problem Harvard seniors would struggle with, there’s no way you can solve it."

You raised an eyebrow. "Harvard, huh? You’ve really overcomplicated this."

Without waiting for a response, you leaned in and began typing, your fingers flying over the keys with remarkable speed. Within seconds, the problem was solved. Tim watched in shock as the solution appeared on the screen, his disbelief palpable.

“How... how did you do that so fast?” Tim asked, his voice a mix of surprise and awe.

You glanced up at him, giving a small, almost imperceptible smile. "Harvard’s brightest students would take hours to solve this. I guess the problem was in making it seem harder than it really is."

After your words, you turned and walked away, leaving Tim staring at the screen, still processing what had just happened. As you left the room, you didn’t look back. You knew that despite their views, despite the way they underestimated you, you were more than capable. And that was something they would have to learn the hard way.

No one had seen your potential—not yet. But you knew what you were worth. And that was enough.