#Which naturally brings the focus to his lips

[lunarzs]

The only proof anyone will ever need on The Untamed being undeniably a romance is how in the episode 1, Wei Wuxian sees the robes of Gusu Lan and the first thing he thinks of is the first time he ever laid eyes on Lan Wangji, and his graceful walk in the pristine white robes.

[fukashiin]

attractive things they do #2 !

— w. housewardens

⤷ "yuutapdatass tweeted: malleus pls stop dming me to rub our feet together as a nightly custom"

cw: hinted suggestive content for malleus, vil and leona. passive reader! enjoy ♡

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

shushing others so you can focus.

pens and textbooks alike cluster along your designated study table, accompanied by the riddle rosehearts as his knee brushes against yours wordlessly. he's utilising this free period, toiling out and about to aid you in your, regretfully, pointless revision. finals season starts to get rigid around this time, so he's more than content to lend a hand if you're willing to put in the effort. except—the students abounded at the table diagonal to yours start getting chattier than what's socially allowed in the library, so riddle calls them out without a pain. one "they're trying to focus." and their mouths are zipped. he turns back to you, unperturbed, and smiles. "shall we continue?"

SO patient with you it makes you cry.

riddle may be a bomb of ire waiting to burst at any given moment, but you believe that his patience shouldn't go uncredited. a tireless awardee, a distinguished laureate, going sleepy in your eyes, although he's wrestling to win over the urge just so you can get the hand of the concept he's cramming into your head last-minute. the scent of white petunias could really alleviate his fatigue, and you make a promise to bring over a few of those in favour for his devoutness to your study sessions. for the time being, he'll make sure you pass, for him, and for yourself.

vows that he'll outdo your stupid ex in every way.

whatever your ex did wrong, riddle will do better. that's just in his nature. he swears with each and every fibre of his body, nuzzling his head in the dip of your shoulder, that he'll love you in ways that your morose ex never bothered to think about. a muttered pledge that couldn't compare to the pious burn that lit in his eyes, like a withstanding candle refusing to go out. his confessions are firm, where he'll be the betterment that you wished for on an astral night, so please, don't put him in your doubt.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

pressing you against the nearest wall he spots to kiss you.

there are numerous attributes to this man that renders you hopelessly drunk in love. one of them is his maddening habit of pressing you flushed against the nearest surface in his sight, and the most poorly lit areas when you're in stranded in a public space to guise the both of you. he executes this with the softest hint of care, ensuring that the landing wasn't too harsh, and advancing when given the green light. wispy strands of hair stroke your skin like a feather, as fine lips come crashing down to yours in a heartbeat, in paradise. he gives you a sheer once-over, bringing up the following statement: "grab onto my vest if you need to."

breathes the confidence into you.

downgrading oneself may be in his dictionary, but it won't appear in yours. he'll clasp any opportunity to brandish his infamous eye-roll to those whose comments about you stray a bit too loud. you may be a bit thrown off by the audacity and aimlessly think about the ways of which you could live up to his—your standards. you take a bit to reorient yourself when you hear your name being called out, sluggish hands circling your waist, as you're unable to finish your thought about how beautiful he is until he asks whether you're actually sparing a single thought for those nobodies. he casually states that you're leagues better than them, whether you think so or not, and won't mind giving you a physical demonstration if you can't bring yourself to accept it yet, because he knows it.

just knows what you want without you having to tell him.

eyeing an accoutrement that could accent your main outfit? longing for a new stand-alone book after the last one you buried yourself in was a letdown? leona has the prices covered. despite your incessant denial, that you don't actually need those, he tells you that a little spending wouldn't hurt. he doesn't need verbal expression to know what'll satisfy you, the flit of your gaze is the only opening he requires. you're embarrassed by how easily you're read, but the hearty smile that blooms on your face will be all the excuses leona needs to keep spoiling you.

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

drapes his coat over your legs if you're cold.

sometimes, you swear that he has the whole "affection capability" of a wooden plank. his actions aren't entirely faultless, nor was there not a single second of err in the delivery of his speeches, but he does haul around that handy coat solely for moments like these. perched wordlessly on top of mostro lounge's signature high stools, azul rebukes your rash behaviour after spurting out in the rain without an umbrella, clothes weatherworn and all—not to mention the lounge's benevolent addition of its AC. the chills rack your body from head to toe, not noticing that a fuzzy warmth starts to blanket your legs, as azul pats it down creaseless. he says that you can pay him in return at a later date, your declining health is his utmost priority at the moment.

sets you straight when you need it.

his prized coin collection seems to blur boorishly, bleeding into the soft jazz playing in the back. the thirsting need to word-vomit all over the place, thanks to the hours of ennui you've been experiencing ever since you've trudged yourself back to azul's room, threatens to tip over the edge. he notes your irresolute responses to his (nearly) bombarding questions while he's planted over at his desk, and takes the initiative to make you open up to him. he wants you to look at him, commit his words to memory, as he caresses your shoulder under the twinkling lavender glow of his night lamp with a sure look in his eyes, guaranteeing that you're going to do fine.

has a secret album dedicated to pictures of you in his gallery.

azul tries to get accustomed to the revolutionising tricks of technology just for you. fine, if he has to pass through every single hyperlink and learn unfamiliar terms, that's on him. other than owning a booming magicam account promoting #mostrolounge, he saves a single, peculiar file in his gallery that hoards all the pictures he's taken of you when you're together, on a date or not. he can't tell if your lovely visage is the sole cause to the rapid change of pace in his heart when he's dealing with a mounting workload, but if you ever drag yourself down after taking a quick glance at them, he'll bring you right back up.

KALIM-AL-ASIM

clears the hair out of your face when its windy.

you may be a tad bit hesitant to ride the magic carpet every once in a while, but kalim's sparkling serendipity puts your heart at ease. he takes you for a midnight rendezvous, golden embroidery flashing and sheening at every twist and turn you direct with the tassels with aplomb—as he compliments. his headpieces jangle merrily like a thousand bells in the breeze, up until he notices your sight being blocked by the troublesome hair whirling all over the place. chuckle as he may, he shifts it to the side of your face with a deft hand, tracing the last strands down to your chin. "there. seeing better now?"

interlaces your hand with his in your sleep. (the physical touch GOAT)

wrinkled bedsheets rustle under the weight of your movements, coarse, and even a bit sullen as the morning ooze of sunlight drenches through your curtains, as if it prohibits you to sleep in the entire day. kalim's newfound ailment forces the two of you to be separated indefinitely, so colour yourself surprised when you feel the taut clutch of your hand in another, holding onto the remaining pieces of you that he needily ached for all night. sun-kissed fingers wove between yours like silken ribbons, his eyes pleading for you to stay, as a minute—a moment without you in his world—would be infallible torture.

purchases a piece of the moon for you.

you know those moneyed, wealthy fans who purchase a piece of the moon for their favourite idol? kalim gets influenced, and is driven by his conviction that you deserve something more extravagant than rowdy parades or a hallowed mansion (regardless of how many he wishes to buy). he takes it upon himself to surf across Lunar Registry, registering your full name and gifting its stated amount for approximately...5000 sq ft of land of the celestial body that hung high in the sky, radiating its extraterrestrial luminance on your nights of sobriety. you chide him for such an impulsive act in return, but soften up when he states, upright, that he would gift you all the stars in space if he could.

VIL SCHOENHEIT

brings you to touch him himself.

no use if you're cowardly in the bold language of physical touch, vil will simply make you oblige into feeling him, whether its physically or through minds. oftentimes you find yourself hastily straddled on his lap, him decked in his satin-sewn pajamas, as you prod and poke his hands nervously while scrutinizing every area of skin that screamed of his unyielding years of care. there's a teasing lilt that lurks behind his voice, questioning if you're seriously taking your time trying to figure him out where you're aware that he's less than patient. he seizes your hand in his grip, and leads them to his chest—shamelessly. if he needs to remind you of who you're with every day, he'll be more than committed to reel you closer to his body.

demands full eye contact.

tsking and huffing is, an unsurprisingly normal habit for him to adapt. and this includes moments of when you're shying away from him, heaving under your tense breath about how unfairly attractive he is. slick in his latest outfit tailored specifically according to his calibrated measurements. high stilettos bests your height, and he almost seems disappointed in the lack of praise he's receiving (although he knows exactly why). you feel a manicured finger tilt your chin upwards, as your teetering praises come to an abrupt halt. he smiles, demanding you to look him in the eyes throughout every second you're worshipping him.

tells you to ready yourself before he showers you in his love.

vil wants you to experience each and every slide of his nails against your feverish skin, whispering pure promises and cherishing you, affirming that you're worth much more to him than a million grand. if you ever throw yourself below the bar lower than necessary, he waves your deplorable behaviour away, and asks if you truly believe that you're tumbling down that route of thinking when you're with him. vying arms enclose your figure like a velvet blanket, surrendering your chapped lips a centimetre away from his, as his refined scent tickles your nose until he advises you to prepare yourself to revel in his untiring devotion. all your worthwhile priorities were put on hold until further notice.

IDIA SHROUD

leaning back in his chair after finishing a game.

you arose from your sleep, previously dozing off while perusing written tales of the past propped up on idia's bed. the culprit of your awakening is off cheering in the same vicinity after speed running a round and emerging victorious, unmanned, of the latest version of a first-person shooter game he recently installed on his computer. he starts to recline in his chair as it creaks off his weight, arms slackened behind his head and his sweater gliding off of his stomach, exposing the barest bit of delicate skin that indulges you to run your hands across. he emits the heaviest of sighs while he runs a sore hand through his hair, as the disorientation of your mind starts to scatter all over the place.

"i thought it'd cost more."

Idia Shroud will not have you get scammed by lowly, needling scammers surfacing online websites like newborn piranhas. his head begins to split when you spout about the official item being too pricey and that you won't be able to milk a single penny out of your derelict dorm, so he insists that he pays for the item for you himself. you send him a link of the mentioned item, and he felt like he was dragging himself through wet cement throughout the whole mire. he remains indifferent to the price overall, and goes "oh? i thought it'd cost more." with a brazen smirk etched on his face that it almost gave you a whiplash.

discreetly orders things to your front door.

quivering lips settle atop of your shoulder for the last time before he sends you back from his room after the intimate amour that had you two wondrously occupied for the entire day. you pilfer a single gummy worm from his desk, and cloak yourself further into his jacket that intoxicates every one of your senses as you streel into the night air that reeked of petrichor. your steps begin to feel like bricks, whilst your eyes were betraying your wish to stay alert. as you approach the front door welcoming you to your dorm, you gauge the sight of a small box placed on the carpet with a small note plastered on it that follows the lines of "for you, pretty thing."

MALLEUS DRACONIA

cushioning your head with his hand.

bony fingers sail through the pleasance of your hair, twirling each and every tendril that it meets and bringing them to his defined, pillowy lips. amusement cracks through the ominosity that sits in his eyes, shielded by his bangs as he beams a smile your way before grasping your shoulders in a split second. he pushes you down onto the mattress with a thud, cushioning your head with a single hand, and tells you to save your yelps and complaints before he endows you with the ability to sing for him all night. he reassures you that he does in fact, know how to secure the deadbolt on the door.

doesn't bother with any potential contenders whatsoever.

malleus but it's "okay, and?" personified. yes, he's heard of the towering sovereign in the neighbouring country who was recently appointed. yes, he's heard of the lucrative salesman nearby situated in town whose attention you captured after visiting his booth. yes, he's heard of Leona Kingscholar. but he could not give Two (2) flying tamagotchis about whoever has been swaying your way, tossing cheap and low-grade courtship in an attempt to earn your affection. he notes that he does have some cheesy pick-up lines of his own to use, but unlike the others, he knows you inside and out. he has no use for the mainstream ways of love and is eager to please you to his own liking, further revealing the unparalleled reverence he maintains for you and only you.

brushes his fingers over your collarbone.

once you step across the threshold of his bathroom, adorned in his nightwear, malleus can't help but dim the lights with the flick of his finger after catching the sight of your collarbone that peaks out from underneath. he's in front of you the moment you blink, and hums in response to your addled self. he brings his ice-tipped fingers to your neck, padding it with caution, and sliding them down to the V-shaped collar that hides the rest of your warmth. stark fingers ghost over the structure of your collarbone, and malleus asks whether you think the gibbous moon will be kind enough as to not set so early.

[chxnsgirl]

필릭스 ─── hands on me

[ ⟡ ] ── NSFW, MDNI!  ✁ tattoo artist!felix x afab!reader , sliiight buildup , oral (f. rec) , unprotected p in v (don't be silly) this was a request ♡ i hope you like it ! ♡ masterlist

smut below the cut - minors gtfo.

it wasn't your first tattoo, but it was your first time going to this shop. 

what made it nerve-wracking was the fact that your tattoo artist, felix, was absolutely stunning. you had heard about him through a friend, and now, seeing him in person, it was impossible not to feel a little flustered.

felix was everything you imagined—and then some. his black hair, slightly tousled, framed a face that could've been carved by a master sculptor. the tattoos that covered his arms, neck, and chest were intricate and bold, each one telling a story. 

he also had a variety of piercings—small hoops and studs that caught the light in a way that was somehow both edgy and captivating. his warm eyes, though, were what really threw you off guard. despite his tough exterior, there was something soft, inviting, almost comforting about them.

but it wasn’t just his eyes that drew you in. you couldn’t help but focus on his lips, which were perfectly shaped—plump and naturally a little shiny, likely from the chapstick he kept applying. you found yourself getting lost in the way he spoke, your eyes lingering on his lips as he explained the tattoo process, trying not to blush every time he glanced your way.

he looked so damn good. and that only made your nerves skyrocket.

the tattoo itself wasn’t huge, but the idea of being alone with him, vulnerable as he worked on your skin, had you second-guessing everything. you had no idea how long you could stay still, especially with his hands so close to you.

after you filled out the paperwork, felix returned shortly, holding a few sketches he’d worked on. you had opted for a bite mark design on your inner thigh—something subtle but realistic, something that would look almost like a real imprint. you’d spent hours online researching, and now it was time to make it real. you looked at the options, your hand shaking slightly as you reached out to point at the one you liked the most.

“this one’s perfect,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended. your gaze lifted to meet his, feeling heat creep up your neck. you tried to push the nerves down, but it was hard when he was standing so close, his presence overwhelming in the best and worst ways.

felix chuckled softly, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he noticed your discomfort. his expression softened just a little, and he leaned in slightly, his gaze flickering between your eyes and the spot you had pointed to. “don’t worry,” he said, his voice low and calm, almost teasing. “we’ll take it slow. you’ll be fine.”

you nodded, trying to calm the storm of butterflies in your stomach. felix’s confidence was reassuring, but you couldn’t shake the mix of excitement and nerves swirling within you. 

felix slipped on his black gloves, the latex stretching over his fingers with a soft snap. he looked up at you, his gaze shifting between the paperwork on the counter and the spot you had indicated for your tattoo. "so, where did you say you wanted it again? your inner thigh?" his voice was steady, but there was a slight curiosity in his tone, maybe even a hint of hesitation.

you nodded, setting your bag down on the table next to the tattoo chair, your hands slightly trembling from both nerves and anticipation. "yeah, the inner thigh."

felix seemed to hesitate, his eyes flicking to your leggings. you could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to phrase his question just right. "um... are those rollable?" he asked, gesturing vaguely toward your leggings.

your stomach sank, realization hitting you. you had completely forgotten to bring a pair of safety shorts, the kind that would make this whole process a lot easier for both of you. you felt a knot tighten in your chest. "uh... no. they're not," you replied quietly, your voice barely above a whisper as you avoided his gaze, suddenly very aware of your clothing.

felix's eyes softened, and he nodded slowly, clearly understanding the situation. he seemed to be weighing his words, a slight furrow of uncertainty crossing his brow before he spoke again. "are you comfortable with... taking them off?" his voice was gentle, yet there was a note of hesitation there, as if unsure how you might react. "if not, it's okay. we can always reschedule, do it another day."

you felt the pressure of the moment, the weight of the decision hanging in the air. you knew you had to get this done—work was about to pick up, and you didn’t have much time to spare. you couldn’t afford to reschedule. after a brief moment of internal conflict, you sighed softly and gave a small, reassuring shake of your head. "i can take them off. it's fine," you said, your voice a little more steady now. you offered a smile, though it felt slightly forced.

felix's expression seemed to relax at your words, the tension in his shoulders easing. he gave you a small, reassuring smile in return, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "okay," he said gently. "i'll give you some privacy, then."

with that, he turned and made his way toward the door. his footsteps were quiet, almost deliberate, and before leaving, he glanced back at you once more. "let me know when you're ready," he said softly before closing the door behind him, leaving you in the room alone.

you stood there for a moment, a mix of emotions swirling through you. you knew it was just part of the process, but it felt more intimate than you anticipated. still, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what came next.

you called out softly, "i'm ready," your voice steady despite the storm of nerves coursing through you. moments later, the door creaked open, and felix stepped back in, his gaze carefully neutral as he approached.

"alright," he said warmly, his tone professional yet kind. he kept his focus on your face as he moved to his workstation, ensuring you didn’t feel self-conscious under his gaze. "let me just get everything set up."

you nodded, clutching the edge of the chair lightly, your palms damp. the air felt cooler against your exposed skin, heightening your awareness of the situation. you reminded yourself that this was just part of the process—felix was a professional, and you were in good hands.

felix busied himself organizing his tools, laying out the stencil, and double-checking the placement. when he turned back toward you, he knelt slightly to meet your eye level, his tone gentle. "alright, i’m going to place the stencil now. let me know if it feels off, okay?"

you swallowed hard and nodded again, your throat feeling tight. "okay," you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

felix moved closer, his gloved hands brushing lightly against your skin as he positioned the stencil on your inner thigh. his touch was firm yet delicate, and the closeness of it all made your heart race even faster. you forced yourself to stay still, focusing on your breathing.

"how does that look?" felix asked, pulling back slightly to give you space to examine the placement. his eyes met yours, soft and reassuring, as if sensing your nervousness.

you glanced down, grateful for the chance to break eye contact. the stencil looked perfect—exactly where you’d envisioned it. "it’s great," you said, trying to sound more confident. "right where i wanted it."

"good," felix replied, smiling slightly as he stood up. he moved to adjust his machine, the hum of it filling the room a moment later. "you ready to get started? i’ll go slow at first, so you can get used to the feeling."

you nodded, gripping the armrests of the chair a little tighter. "yeah, i’m ready."

felix leaned in again, his presence calming despite the anxiety bubbling within you. his voice was gentle as he spoke. "just let me know if you need a break, okay? you’re doing great so far."

the first touch of the needle against your skin was sharp, but it was the kind of pain you could endure. you tried to focus on the steady hum of the machine and felix’s soft, calming instructions. still, his closeness made it hard to relax—his body angled toward you, his breath occasionally fanning over your skin, and the subtle brush of his hand near your inner thigh sent your heart racing.

felix worked with a laser focus, his movements precise and practiced as he outlined the stencil. his professionalism was clear, but the proximity made it impossible for you not to notice every little thing—the faint scent of his cologne, the warmth of his hands through the gloves, and the way his dark eyes stayed intently on his work.

lost in his task, felix leaned in further, his breath ghosting over your exposed skin. his knuckles brushed the outside of your underwear, a touch so light it could have been accidental, but it sent a jolt through you. the sensations from the needle—the sharpness, the vibrations—only seemed to amplify the growing heat in your core. you pressed your lips together, willing yourself to stay still, but the ache was becoming impossible to ignore.

as felix adjusted his position, his hand grazed just slightly closer, his knuckles brushing against your clit through the thin fabric of your panties. the contact was brief but electric, and a soft, involuntary whimper escaped your lips before you could stop it. the sound was barely audible over the hum of the tattoo machine, but felix froze instantly, his head snapping up.

his dark eyes locked onto yours, a mix of concern and something unspoken flashing across his face. “you okay?” he asked softly, his voice laced with genuine care as he set the machine down on the tray beside him. his gaze flicked over your face, searching for any sign of distress.

your breath hitched, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the words. the weight of the situation hit you all at once—the intimacy of the moment, the vulnerability of being in this position with someone like felix, and the fact that he had noticed your reaction. you nodded quickly, your face burning as you tried to steady your breathing. "yeah, i’m fine," you said, your voice a little higher than usual, betraying your flustered state.

felix’s brows knitted together briefly, as if he wasn’t entirely convinced. he tilted his head slightly, his tone softening even further. "you sure? we can take a break if you need."

you swallowed hard, shaking your head more firmly this time. "no, really, i’m okay. just... sensitive, i guess." you gave a nervous laugh, hoping to brush it off.

felix’s lips curved into a small, understanding smile, though there was still something unreadable lingering in his expression. "alright," he said gently. "but if anything feels uncomfortable, you let me know, okay?"

you nodded again, feeling a mix of relief and embarrassment as he returned to his work. his focus shifted back to the tattoo, but the tension in the air felt heavier now, charged with an energy neither of you acknowledged. you closed your eyes, willing yourself to stay composed, though the sensation of his hands and the steady vibrations made it a challenge you weren’t sure you’d win.

throughout the duration of the tattoo session, you tried your best to maintain a calm composure, hiding the telltale signs of your arousal as you and felix talked about random things. but felix could see and smell it all too clearly. the scent of your desire wafted through the air, filling his senses and causing an immediate reaction in his jeans. his member began to thicken and strain against the fabric, already tight on its own.

though he knew he needed to remain professional, the sight and smell of your arousal was impossible to resist. he couldn't help but lean in closer, selfishly inhaling more of your intoxicating scent as he worked deftly on your skin. as his breath brushed against your core, a shiver ran down your spine.

but then he caught a glimpse of your slick glistening through your panties, and he almost let out an audible groan. it was clear that you were completely turned on by him and his touch, and he couldn't resist pushing the boundaries just a little further. 

you squirmed slightly, the movement catching his attention. "still doing okay?" felix asked, his voice low, almost a whisper. the words were laced with a subtle edge, a hint of something more.

"y-yeah," you stammered, your voice unsteady. your face felt hot, and you avoided his gaze, knowing that if you looked at him now, you might lose whatever shred of composure you had left.

felix's lips quirked into a small smile, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he refocused on the tattoo. he told himself to stop, to keep this professional, but the temptation was maddening. his hand brushed against your thigh again, his knuckles grazing higher this time, and he swore he felt you shiver.

he glanced up, his dark eyes locking with yours. the room felt unbearably small, the air thick with tension. felix hesitated, his professionalism warring with the primal desire that had been building since the session began.

he leaned back slightly, setting the tattoo machine down. his gloves flexed as he adjusted them, his voice soft but firm when he finally spoke. "you’re... really sensitive here," he said, his words carrying more weight than their innocent meaning should have.

you swallowed hard, your breath quickening. "yeah, i guess so," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

felix leaned in again, his face so close you could feel the heat of his breath. "if this gets too much for you... or if you need anything, just say the word," he said, his tone almost daring you to admit what he already knew.

the tension in the room was unbearable, the air thick with unspoken desire. felix's hand had just brushed your slick panties again, his breath hot against your inner thigh, when you jolted slightly, a soft gasp escaping your lips. your body was trembling, the sensations overwhelming as your arousal built to a point where you could barely think straight.

"felix," you breathed, your voice unsteady as you placed a hand on his wrist, stopping his movements. "i... i need a second."

he froze immediately, his dark eyes snapping up to meet yours, filled with concern. his hand withdrew gently, and he sat back slightly, giving you space. "are you okay?" he asked softly, his voice steady but laced with worry.

you nodded quickly, swallowing hard as you tried to steady your breathing. "yeah, i’m just... it’s a lot," you admitted, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. you couldn’t meet his gaze, but when you glanced down, you caught sight of the prominent bulge in his jeans, straining against the fabric. your breath hitched at the realization, and your eyes darted back up to his.

felix followed your gaze and cursed under his breath, running a gloved hand through his dark hair. "i’m sorry," he murmured, his voice rougher now. he shifted slightly, as if trying to relieve some of the pressure, but it was no use.

your heart raced at his words, a mix of embarrassment and intrigue flooding through you. "felix..." you started, your voice trembling.

he leaned closer, his gaze locking onto yours, his expression equal parts hesitant and desperate. "if this is too much, we can stop," he said, his tone sincere. "but... if you want, i can help you." his words hung in the air, heavy with implication.

your lips parted, your mind spinning at the offer. "help me?" you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

felix nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "you know what i mean." he said, his voice dropping an octave, "i can take care of it. only if you want me to." his gloved hand rested lightly on your thigh, his touch both comforting and suggestive, and his eyes were pleading.

you hesitated, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you considered his words. the ache between your legs was unbearable, and the thought of his skilled hands—or more—bringing you relief was almost too tempting to resist. but the intensity of the moment, the sheer intimacy of what he was offering, made you pause.

"only if you’re sure," felix added, his voice softer now. "i don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with."

you gave him a nod, your voice wavering. “words, y/n.” he said, setting the tool down and taking his gloves off. “i-i’m sure,” you said nervously.

that was all felix needed. he yanked off his gloves, tossing them aside in a hurry. a growl rumbled low in his chest as he leaned in, his hand sliding higher along your thigh, skimming the edge of your panties. his lips were tantalizingly close to your skin, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine. 

his fingers brushed against the damp fabric of your panties, a teasing, feather-light touch that made you gasp softly. felix smirked, his eyes darkening as he saw the effect he had on you. "so wet," he murmured, his thumb pressing lightly against your clit through the fabric, drawing a whimper from your lips. "is this all for me?"

you nodded, your body arching into his touch as a soft moan escaped you. felix groaned, leaning down to press his lips against your thigh, his kisses slow and deliberate.

 he tugged your panties aside, exposing you fully to his gaze. your pretty lips were glistening, sopping wet with your essence. his eyes drank you in, and he licked his lips before looking up at you. "i want to make you feel good," he said, his voice husky with need. "will you let me?"

"please," you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation.

felix didn’t hesitate. he dropped to his knees in front of the chair, his hands gripping your thighs as he pulled you closer to the edge. 

his touch was gentle and careful as he moved your thighs apart, mindful not to disturb your freshly inked skin. with one hand holding your panties to the side and the other spreading your lips open, he marveled at the sight between your legs. "fuck, you're so wet," he murmured before leaning in for a taste.

the sensation of his tongue piercing against your sensitive flesh caught you by surprise, but it was a welcomed one. a wave of satisfaction rippled through you as he flicked his tongue against your clit with skilled precision. your hand found its way to his head, fingers tangling into his hair and tugging occasionally in pleasure. he looked up at you, a hand running along the inside of your thigh as he lavished attention on your bud.

a deep growl rumbled from his chest as he buried his face deeper into your cunt, sucking and licking with fervent desire. you couldn't hold back the loud moan that escaped your lips or the way your body arched towards him. "just like that," you praised him through heavy breaths, hips bucking against his face desperately.

it was too much. the sight of felix between your legs, his nose buried in your mound and the wet, sloppy noises of him eating you out sent a sharp pang to your core. with a few more sucks from his mouth, you came undone - stars exploding behind closed eyes and pleasure coursing through every inch of your body. felix eagerly lapped up every drop of you, not pulling away until you gently guided his head off of you.

he stood up in front of you, smiling down with pride and lust in his eyes. "feeling better?" he asked playfully. you could only nod, cheeks flushed darkly from the intense encounter that had just occurred. your gaze drifted down to the prominent bulge in his jeans, knowing that he needed release too. "let me help you," you muttered, eagerly reaching for him.

felix’s grin faltered for a moment as your words sank in. his dark eyes widened slightly, and then his smirk returned, this time tinged with a hint of surprise and desire. "you don’t have to do that," he said softly, though the way his voice betrayed just how much he wanted you to.

you swallowed hard, your body still trembling from the intensity of your orgasm, but your gaze remained fixed on the straining bulge in his jeans. the thought of him, thick and hard, made your core clench again. you shook your head, your voice steadier now. "i want to."

felix’s jaw tightened, and he let out a low groan, as though he was fighting every instinct he had. "are you sure?" he asked, his hands flexing at his sides. "this wasn’t supposed to go this far. i... i don’t want you to feel pressured."

you stood slowly from the chair, your knees still a little shaky, but your determination unwavering. your hands reached for his belt, and when you looked up at him, your eyes were full of intent. "i’m sure, felix," you said softly, your fingers working the buckle open. 

he let out a sharp breath, his restraint snapping as he nodded. "fuck," he muttered, his hands coming to rest on your hips. "i’m not going to hold back, then."

with that, felix helped guide you as you undid his jeans, his cock springing free, the sight making your breath catch. he was surprisingly thick, the head flushed and already leaking precum, and the sheer size of him only made your arousal spark anew. felix leaned down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, his hands sliding down to grip your ass as he pulled you flush against him. 

“bend over that counter for me.” he instructed you, patting your barely clothed ass. you did just that, bending over the counter and arching your back for him slightly. he yanked your panties to the side again, getting behind you hurriedly. he rubbed his fat tip against your wet lips, coating himself with a groan. he pushed himself inside you slowly, as if savoring every inch being swallowed by your cunt. each second of his cock filling you was pure bliss; he felt divine. 

he buried himself to the hilt, a low, throaty groan leaving his lips. he ran his hands up your back, catching your shoulder to pull you back against him. “oh, you feel so good,” he grunted, slowly pistoning his cock in and out of your cunt. he lifted your leg carefully, helping you rest it on the counter so he could fuck you better. 

his hands roamed your body as he fucked into you, one of them resting in the crevice of your thighs and your hip, squeezing into your flesh. he sped up quickly, rutting into you with low growls and curses. his thick tip massaged your g-spot so deliciously, making a pit form deep in your stomach. you whined loudly, crying out in bliss as he stretched you fully.

felix abruptly halted when he heard a sharp knock at his door, and he cursed under his breath. "i'm with a client," he hollered, his hands still kneading your flesh while he paused inside you. the sound of footsteps retreating from outside his door made him exhale heavily with relief. he quickly returned to thrusting into you with renewed vigor, the thrill of almost getting caught fueling his actions. 

as he continued to fuck you senseless, you whimpered in excitement, knowing that any minute someone could walk in on you both. "you almost got us caught," felix growled, increasing his pace to an unrelenting one as he whispered dirty words in your ear. the possibility of being caught only heightened the intense pleasure pulsating through your body, and you couldn't help but moan louder with each powerful thrust.

felix moaned loudly as your pussy tightened around him, fluttering and milking him with every delicious movement. "f-fucking...shit, you're gonna make me cum already," he choked out hoarsely. his fingers dug into your skin now and his hips were moving quickly and urgently as he chased his release.

your ass slapped against his waist, the loud clapping sounds echoing in the room. "cum in me," you whimpered, glancing back at him over your shoulder with pleading eyes. he didn't need to be told twice and obliged, your words sending him over the edge in no time. with a deep growl, he threw his head back and bit his lip as he emptied himself inside of you. he pumped you full with his load, his cock twitching with each spurt of cum.

you whined in pleasure, your eyes fluttering closed as he continued to thrust slowly in and out of you, mixing his release with your own essence. his gaze never left where your bodies were connected, as if he was in a trance from how thoroughly fucked out he was. 

he finally pulled out wetly, helping you stand back upright. “are you okay?” he asked, tucking himself away quickly and helping you fix your panties. you nodded, still dazed from the thorough fucking he gave you. “yeah, th-thanks for helping me,” you looked up at him, a dark blush on your face. 

he grinned and zipped his pants back up. “don’t mention it,” he nodded toward the chair. “should we continue?”

needless to say, you continued. and you definitely would be coming back.

tags: @ritsmith @bluesungology @jeonginsleftcheek

©chxnsgirl do not repost, translate, or copy my works in any way, shape, or form.

[gojoest]

FIRST WORD — girl dad!gojo satoru

girl dad satoru, established relationship (you’re married, it is indicated that you have two other kids besides the little one that appears in this drabble), nanami cameo, suggestive credits at the end (breeding hinted, just to be safe), sry this lowkey sucks + not proofread, i typed it out in 10 mins but i hope you enjoy!

satoru is trying really hard to get his little daughter to say “papa”, but oh well

“come on, my life — say it”

satoru, crouched down before the baby chair where his little daughter is sitting, a picture of his face in one hand while the other alternates between pointing at the photo and then at his face, slowly repeats, over and over, with utmost perseverance and patience, the first word he wishes his little one would utter—

“pa-pa”, he carefully speaks, syllable by syllable. “pa-pa”, and again. “come on, baby — at least you don’t betray me, i know you’re papa’s girl — come on now, say it”, he pleads.

this has been going on for the past few weeks.

your entire house currently looks like the room of a teenager where it’s posters on the walls and little trinkets on the shelves, courtesy of heavy hyperfixations. but instead of posters and trinkets it’s your husband’s face, everywhere. kitchen, living room, hallways, your baby’s room — every-single-where and every-single-surface and wall has the photograph of your husband’s face on it. he even purchased custom-made plushies and toys of himself, some of which are hanging from the musical baby mobile above your daughter’s crib — but instead of music it’s his voice, teaching his toddler through made-up songs how to say ‘papa’.

“satoru, don’t you think this is a little bit, um— “, you once brought up, pausing to clear your throat, trying your best to sound softer while you say this. knowing how sensitive he is about the matter, and how devoted to have this innocuous win — “…too much? hm, love? it’s like you’re… brainwashing the baby…”

lips immediately pursed, satoru pouted under his nose — “easy for you to say, our two other kids said ‘mama’ first — effortlessly, at that. let me have this one at least”

okay, you shrugged and backed off.

and this morning, as you sipped on your coffee, you silently watched your husband in the kitchen — kneeled down before the baby chair, going about his educational routine.

after he was done with the photos, he took your daughter’s hand and pressed her fingers on his lips, while he kept repeating the word ‘papa’. he said that this method allows the baby to see the way your mouth moves as you speak but also hear and feel the sound all at the same time. (he sure has read a lot of things on the internet)

but your little one remained silent, only giggling here and there as she poked around her father’s face, completely refusing to cooperate with him despite his desperate attempts.

it is an endearing sight, really. part of you felt pity for your husband, you cannot lie. he was trying so hard, and for what...

all of a sudden,

the doorbell rings.

“i’ll take it”, you quickly pad over to open the door.

it’s nanami — dropping by with some baked treats for the kids, as he often does. your children love him a lot. during dinner gatherings he always sneaks away to read them bedtime stories. even though he doesn’t look like the type on the surface, he sure has a soft spot for children. and, truth be told, they are all naturally drawn to him as well. maybe it’s his calm demeanor and the sense of safety he brings along with his presence.

“ah, thank you — these look so delicious, i am sure the kids will die for a bite”, you chime, as you guide him into the kitchen.

“oh— nanami, it’s you”, satoru casually points out without even turning his head to greet him, his eyes glued on his little daughter… who seems to be looking elsewhere, past her father…

…at nanami.

a bit bothered by that, satoru shifts a little bit to the side, to block the view — to, once again, be the main focus in his daughter’s eyes. but, alas…

she tilts her head, googly eyes glancing at the blond man behind her father.

she opens her mouth, a giggle first escapes, and then—

“na-na—”, she pauses… “—mi” — a beam of laughter and her hands reaching forward, pointing at nanami.

silence in the kitchen befalls.

you cover your mouth with a hand, trying to prevent yourself from bursting into laughter. it’s tragic but funny at the same time, and you know — in just a few seconds the real baby in this room will not be your daughter.

“nanami”, satoru slowly stands up, shoulders hanging low and voice — monotone and stern. “get out”

p.s.: satoru makes a scene. he is absolutely devastated. you have to drag him away and pick up the pieces and calm him down. and, of course, he thinks — the only way to make things better is to give him another child. a new opportunity…and you need to get down to business, now. while nanami is babysitting downstairs.

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

Snuggles On The Couch

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Warnings: smut

When Lando has a weekend off from racing he tries to come home to England from time to time and visit his family. Of course, since he doesn't want to spend a second away from you, he always asks you to go with him, and you always agree because you like spending time with his family. You get along well, you have a lot of topics to talk about and it's never boring in their company.

It was the same this weekend. You spent the whole day hanging out outside in the yard of the Norris family home. The whole family was together, and Lando was hovering around you all the time making sure you weren't bored, and besides it comes naturally to him that he has to be near you all the time and have physical contact with you.

When evening came you had dinner together after which Lando's sisters went out with their friends and his mom and dad greeted you and went upstairs wanting to give you some privacy down in the living room.

Feeling a little exhausted from the day, you stretched and yawned loudly before your head hit the pillow on the couch in front of the TV.

"You feeling tired?" Lando asked coming from the kitchen towards you.

"A bit, yeah" You yawn again.

"It's barely 9 p.m. baby, do you wanna go to sleep already?" He asks sitting down on the couch and putting your legs over his lap. "Thought we could watch a movie before bed?

"Yeah, sure, why not. I can't promise that I'll see the end of the movie awake though" You smile sleepily.

While you were looking for a movie on netflix, Lando settled comfortably sideways behind you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to his chest. He started kissing your neck tickling you and making you giggle.

"Lan, you're distracting me"

"I missed you today" He says nuzzling his nose against your shoulder.

"You missed me? We've been literally together all day."

"Yeah, but" He sighs. "you didn't pay much attention to me and I had to share you with others. I want you to myself now."

You turn your head to look at him rolling your eyes and laughing. He takes the chance to kiss your lips running his tongue over your bottom lip, but you don't let him in. Instead you break the kiss and focus your attention to finding the movie to watch.

Lando wasn't really interested in watching the movie at all. He actually suggested the movie just to try to keep you awake a little longer to get what he wanted. His lips were attached to your neck as his hands slowly began to roam your body, sliding them under your shirt and squeezing your breasts over your bra.

"Lan..stop it" You half whispered half moaned squirming a little.

"Just keep looking for the movie" He murmured against your skin grinding himself against your ass.

You could clearly feel how hard he was as he squeezed your hip and pulled your ass into his crotch. You squeezed your thighs clenching around nothing as he tried to slip his hand in between them.

"Lando, no. We're in the living room, there's no chance" You resisted taking his wrist and trying to move it away.

"C'mon, baby. Let me touch you, please." He whines quietly forcing your thighs apart. "Can't you feel what you're doing to me?"

"I'm too tired and there's no way we're having sex on your parent's couch"

"You don't have to do anything. You just lay here and find a movie and I'll do all the work, yeah? Just let me feel your pussy please.." He groaned biting your shoulder.

Your common sense told you no, but your body responded differently to his touches. Especially when he kissed you just below the ear and rubbed your pussy over your tights. Your lips instantly parted and eyes closed as you took his wrist, but didn't stop him.

"How come you're so wet if you don't want it, baby? Hm? I feel it through those tights of yours" He murmured continuing to work his fingers over your clothed clit while his other hand gently grabbed your neck.

You couldn't bring yourself to say anything nor to open your eyes. You just hoped he wouldn't stop what he was doing.

"I'm gonna fuck you right here, right now, nice and gentle, yeah?"

You nodded and that was all it took for him to pull your tights down just below your ass and free his cock from his now already too tight pants and boxers.

"Soaking wet" He groaned playing with your pussy. He collected your wetness with his fingertips rubbing it over the tip of his cock. "You ready for me, darling?"

You answered his question by arching your back for him letting him put his tip on your entrance. He teased your hole a little before pushing himself in and burying his head into the crook of your neck to quietly groan into it. You whimpered at the feeling of his cock filling you. Before he started thrusting, he put his hand on your hip to rock you back and forth on his hard cock.

"Been thinking about this all day, fuck baby" He grunted starting to move in and out of you slowly.

"What if someone walks in here?" You worried, but the feeling was too good to stop.

"I don't care, I'll just keep fucking you until we both finish" Tingles ran through your body at his words and you let out a louder moan than you intended. His other hand immediately went up to cover your mouth. "Quiet, love, quiet"

He was fucking you deep and slow keeping your mouth covered with his hand and leaving wet kisses over your skin.

"You like how I'm fucking you, hm?" He whispered in your ear.

"Faster, Lan please" You quietly cried out.

"You need it faster, baby? I'll give you faster" He said lifting up your leg and increasing his pace. His eyes followed your movements as your hand slid down to your clit quickly rubbing it in circles. His eyes rolled in his head at the sight. "Oh fuck..Are you getting close?" He asked hoping that you were because he knew he couldn't last much longer.

"Yes, Lan, uh-yes"

"Me too. I just wanna come for you, baby"

He kept thrusting in you and soon you could feel him twitching inside. You knew he was about to come as his breath started quivering.

"I'm gonna cum inside so we don't make a mess, yeah?" He barely managed to say. You moaned squeezing your thighs together and clenching around his cock. It send both of you over the edge as the familiar feeling of pleasure coursed through your body.

"Oh fuck, yes, yes baby come all over my cock" He pressed you against his chest burying his head into your neck once again until both of your rode out your orgasms.

He pulled your chin with his fingers to face him and you smiled flushing avoiding his eyes.

"What? Why are you so shy all of a sudden?" He chuckled.

"Because..this was so wrong" You sighed shaking your head.

"It was, that's why you came so hard, baby"

[nochepsicodelica]

"Baby, what's wrong?" Toji leans forward on the bar counter to try and get a look at your face.

You hear Toji's voice, but you feel heavy, like you're being weighed down and you can't move. Your elbow is on the counter, allowing you to rest your chin in your palm. Your head is turned to the side and you're facing away from him. Your leg is bouncing like crazy against the metal bars of the stool you sit on and your heart is racing, your breathing coming out a little shaky as it exits through your nose.

"Hey." Toji's hand goes to your knee, moving along with every bounce of your leg. He doesn't attempt to still you, but he's hoping the warmth will manage to soothe you a little. "It's okay, ma. Listen to me." When you don't move, he stands from his seat and makes his way over to your other side to stand in front of you. "Focus on me." His hands come up to shield your eyes from all the light around you, blocking your peripheral vision so that your main view is him. He lays his fingers over your ears to somewhat muffle the sounds of the lively bar area.

You're overstimulated, overwhelmed by all the lights, and music, and everybody around you. You were so excited to spend some time out with Toji. You've been here with him before, and you remembered you had a really good time— definitely one of your favorite dates with him— so you expected this time to be just as fun. Everything was going well until you made it to the bar, where you're sitting, now, trying to calm down. Everywhere you turned, you made eye contact with someone, there was a group of people that was being way too loud, and the volume of the music being played was inconsistent— sometimes blaring, sometimes at a comfortable volume, and sometimes the music was almost inaudible. You felt like your head was spinning. With all of these things combined, you could hardly focus on Toji who was trying to get your attention, because the bartender was taking your drink orders. You asked him to repeat himself three times, and each time you couldn't process what he was saying. He ended up just getting you your usual.

The sensory overload only worsened as time went by. Whenever Toji said anything to you, you would just hum and nod your head, not really taking in his words. You ended up reaching rock bottom and couldn't respond to him at all. You weren't feeling well, and he eventually picked up on it, which led to this moment, where he's standing in front of you, helping you deescalate this awful feeling.

You blink slowly at Toji, holding his attentive gaze. He picks up your limp hand from where it rests on your thigh and brings it up to his face, positioning it so that you're cupping his jaw and your thumb is pressed against the scar on his lips.

Toji used to really hate his scar. Too many bad memories are linked to it. The blemish reminded him of how unwanted he was, growing up. When he met you, he was really insecure about it, to the point where his heart would sink to his stomach, when he caught you glancing at it for even the quickest second. He found out later on that his scar brings you comfort. Whenever you're stressed about something and Toji does a mental check in, the first thing you do is kiss his scar, before communicating what has you so stressed. Whenever you're sad, Toji pulls you onto his lap and lets you talk out all your feelings. As if by natural instinct, your thumb runs along the strike on his lips, before you wrap your arms around him and melt into his comforting embrace. Even at random times, you'll walk up to him and lay a barrage of kisses on his scar, before walking off to continue what you were doing, like it's a form of recharging, but also your motivation to get things done.

Though the method in which Toji got his scar was vehemently horrid, a lot of the negative memories are overridden by more positive ones of it bringing you tranquility. Before, there was absolutely nothing good about it. It used to piss him off, because it just served as a malignant reminder of his past, and it just sat there on his grim face—useless. Now that he knows that the sight and the feeling of it puts your mind at ease and that it grounds you and keeps you with him, his hatred towards the permanence of the tattered skin isn't as vile.

"Look, mama. You feel that?" He manually drags your thumb up and down his scar, in an attempt to bring you back. Your eyebrows furrow, then relax at the feeling of the familiar texture beneath the pad of your thumb. "Yeah, i'm here. It's okay, doll." When you manage to move your thumb on your own, he lets go of your hand and puts his hand back beside your face to shield you, again. He can feel people watching, but he really doesn't care what it looks like to them. It's none of their business, anyway.

"You wanna get out of here? We can go for a drive or a walk. Anything you want." He sees you press your lips together like you want to say something, but then you stop and just keep looking at him with that same look of exhaustion from your overwhelming amount of awareness. "Alright, let's get out of here, first." He pulls out his wallet and a few bills, leaving them beneath the glass of your unfinished drink, before helping you off the stool. "It's okay, doll. Don't even worry about it. Just hold onto me." You wrap an arm around him and he keeps his hand on your shoulder, squeezing occasionally to remind you that he's looking out for you, as he guides you to the exit.

You both decide to lean against the trunk of the car for a few minutes to get some fresh air. The parking lot is practically empty, save for three other cars scattered in different areas. You've managed to calm down a little more, but you still haven't said anything. It's a mixture of guilt and embarrassment for ending what was supposed to be a nice night out with your lover.

Your shame is visible. You can't even look up from your fidgeting hands. Toji takes one of them in both of his, aiming to start a conversation with you.

"Why are you stressing out on me, my sweet girl?" Your palm rests on top of Toji's, while the thumb of his free hand brushes your knuckles. He tilts his head to look at you as you stare at the ground for a few more seconds.

"I don't know what happened," you say, finally turning to look at him. "I was fine when we were on our way here, remember?" Toji nods, clearly remembering how excited you were when you saw the lit up, neon lettering. "Then, we got inside, and I felt weird—jittery, like when you have caffeine and don't put the energy to use. I felt like people were watching my every move, and my chest felt tight."

Toji hums, taking in the heaviness of your words and considers your feelings. "And why is it that you left me to figure out that you felt like you were dying, instead of telling me from the start?" His words aren't sharp, rather, doused with concern.

"That would have made it our shortest date night ever. We walk in, I say 'baby, I feel uncomfortable with how loud everything is', we walk out." Your brows raise, as if your explanation showcases the better option more clearly—what you chose to do, instead.

"That is one thousand times better than what you went through a few minutes ago." Toji can see your lips twitching, like you're aching to defend your reason for withholding your discomfort from him, but he won't have it. He's not going to waste time arguing over something he will always be right about. Your comfort, your health, your wellbeing— it's prioritized.

"I don't like seeing you that way." He gently pulls you so that you're standing right in front of him. His gorgeous, green eyes effortlessly hold you hostage and his hands settle on your lower back, further adding on to the feeling of being caught up in him. "You were frozen and you went silent— you were just out of it."

Your expression shows the guilt you've been stomaching since you walked out of the bar, and the feeling only intensifies at his evident concern for you.

"Fuck." He sighs, pulling you into a tight hug. "Don't look at me like that, ma. You know I care." He turns his head and takes in the ambrosial scent of your perfume, sourcing it from the side of your neck, where a few of his kisses land. "I don't want you to hide how you're feeling from me like that ever again. You understand?"

You nod against him. "Sorry."

"I'm not mad at you. I don't want you to apologize. Just tell me you understand," Toji clarifies.

"I understand," you confirm, quiet and disheartened, like you've just been scolded.

"Good. Now, tell me you love me." He loosens his hold and pulls you back, still maintaining a fairly close proximity with you. His hands take the ends of your coat and ride up until they reach the first button and hole of it. He merges them and goes up, feeling for the next ones, but when he reaches them, he pauses. Your attention is on what he's doing rather than his request.

"What?" You ask, looking at him.

"I'll wait," he responds, smiling softly at the bashfulness that shines through your expression.

"You're putting me on the spot," you say, giggling.

"You say it all the time. Why is it weird now?"

It's that smirk on his face and the knowing look in his eyes, that has your heart racing. It's the fact that he rescued you from something he couldn't feel—an internal hurricane. It's not hard to say the words, but you're damn nervous, this time.

"I love you, Toji," you, wholeheartedly, declare.

"I wasn't ready. Go again," he teases, because he lives for the way your eyes light up before you laugh.

"I love you, baby," you repeat, a gentle smile curled on your lips, remnants of your amusement towards his playfulness.

Toji sighs, mesmerized by the entirety of you. "You're so pretty, ma," he says, feeding the undying glow of your ethereal smile, in hopes that it doesn't dim again anytime soon. He continues buttoning up your coat, not breaking eye contact with you for even a second. When the last button is done, he shoves his hands into your pockets and pulls you in for a deep kiss. "I love you," he murmurs, against your lips, proceeding with more kisses.

Your hands come up to cup his cheeks, the warmth of his skin spreading through your palms with every ongoing kiss you share. Your hand repositions, your fingers resting beneath his jaw, allowing your thumb to slide down and get as close as you can to his scar, without interfering with the movement of his lips. It rests there until you finally separate from each other. You lean forward once more and press a lasting, final kiss to the strike.

"Feeling better?" Toji asks, a smug grin on his face.

"Much better," you respond. "Can we go somewhere else? Anywhere else. I don't think I can go back in there. It'll be awkward with the bartender having seen everything and just... fuck that. I can't go in there, again."

"Let's go for a drive," Toji says. He pulls his hands out of your now heated pockets, and takes his weight off the trunk, standing up straight and towering over you. "If you see anything interesting, we can stop and check it out."

"Let's get lost," you suggest, grinning mischievously.

Toji's eyebrows pinch in confusion. "Get lost? What does that mean?" He asks.

"It means, let's drive aimlessly and just... get lost," you repeat, enthusiastically.

He loves how excited you are, despite how insane you sound, which is why he doesn't have the heart to shut down your crazy idea.

"You know, it's almost impossible for me to get lost, 'cause of my jobs, doll. I'm sent everywhere, so anywhere we go, I know how to get us back home."

"I can't say the same, so it would be an adventure." You smile, internally giddy at the thought of having a guide through the dark unknown.

"It would be me kidnapping you." His hands go to your cheeks, forcing you to keep your eyes on him, so he can observe you to make sure you are in your right mind.

You laugh at the intensity of his gaze. "Not if I'm willingly going with you. Please? If you hate traveling with me, we'll never do it again. I promise."

Toji scoffs. "That's a little extreme, don't you think?"

You give him a charming smile, one you normally use to heavily influence his judgement.

"Fucking-" He groans, half frustrated, half smitten at the stunning sight before him. You don't even have the time to process the swiftness of him leaning down to press a hard kiss onto your lips. "God, you always do that. You always do that. You know what it does to me and you just... fuck." His breath stutters, and again, he's tasting the sweetness of your lips. His hands are still cupping your face, keeping you locked in with him. Toji doesn't stop until you're both breathing heavily through your noses and panting when he finally pulls away.

"Let's get lost," he says, in your words verbatim. Verdant orbs stare into your soul, in search of the smallest trace of uncertainty, but all he is able to find is wonder and adoration, staring right back at him. "Let's go away, doll."

[monamipencil]

— angel eyes | l.sm

⋆ summary; though seokmin and you are focused on building a good relationship, you both forget an integral part of it. sex. or, in which you both have sex after being together for one year.

⋆ pairings; seokmin x fem! reader ⋆ genre; smut, angst (a teeny bit), fluff, established relationship ⋆ w.c; 3.7k+ ⋆ warnings; soonyoung slander, they're both horny and didn't have sex for no reason, seokmin is a loveable idiot, insecurities, oral (m. & f. receiving), unprotected sex (she's on pills), creampie, he's shy and adorable, mentions of food. ⋆ a/n; ty to the anon that came up with this idea. man, i love writing this guy.

Seokmin takes a deep breath for the nth time and rolls down the windows. He sighs, unbuttoning his shirt a bit to rid the hotness in the car. His hand moves to turn up the air cooler, but he stops halfway, eyes falling on your figure. You’re curled up in the passenger seat, pulling his coat tighter around you. 

A soft smile graces his features as he shifts focus to the road again. The events of the night slip away from his mind easily as you replace them. Seokmin has never felt happier than with you. It’s easier to breathe around you, easy to be himself around you, easy to feel loved and love you back. Everything has been so easy, and he feels content with the relationship. 

In fact, Seokmin even planned on going on one knee just 3 months into the relationship. He couldn’t help it. Everything flew naturally with you. And just like that, certain things didn’t even occur to him. Too focused on being in love, you both completely forgot about an integral part of a relationship. Sex.

The hard thing (no pun intended) is this had only been brought out to the limelight when one of his friends, Soonyoung, joked about it, unknowingly after your first anniversary. “Oh? Have you both even done it?” 

Soonyoung did not expect the absolute silence that followed, which affirmed his statement. The air felt too thick for him, and he could hear his heart thrumming in his ear. The awkwardness quickly dissolved when Mingyu made a mess, and everyone jumped to bully him. Since then, it lingered in his mind like a ghost, and his cheeks burnt up coyly.

He wasn’t embarrassed, per se, but shy. He was never embarrassed about the relationship at any point. Always proud that you both were taking things slow and smooth, earning comments of marriage from others frequently. 

And it's not like Seokmin shied away from the topic of sex either. He is a gentleman, not an idiot. And a bit shy. 

Hence, exactly why he couldn’t bring himself to meet your eyes the rest of the night. Soonyoungs joke shed a different light on you, and he found himself catching the details he usually missed.  Your cleavage that was slightly exposed when you bent forward, the curve of your ass when he placed his hand on your waist, the softness of your hips, and your soft, pretty lips, he found himself thinking about for the rest of the night. 

But you were seemingly unaffected by any of it. You were your usual self, and when he shied away from your eyes, you simply pinched his cheeks and kissed the corner of his lips to silently say, “it’s ok.” 

The kiss lingers on his skin warmly. He lifts his hand to caress your cheeks and smiles when you lean into his touch. But that smile drops when the strap of your dress falls, exposing your cleavage. With your curled-up position facing him, he can see it clearly.

Seokmin shifts his gaze back to the road, sporting a blush and a raging boner.

From then on, he had tried to initiate sex more often. Keyword; tried. 

He stopped by a convenience store to buy some condoms but ended up completely off the track and bought some of his childhood snacks.

“Honey, I’m home!” He announces, making his way to you with a big smile. You greet him back, “Hi baby,”

“You won’t believe what I found!” He exclaims, showing off the goods he bought, and you tilt your head, squinting at the plastic bags of snacks. “My childhood snacks! I actually went to buy-” Oh, right. He went to buy condoms. 

“Mhm, what did you want to buy?” you ask, fully focusing on him with a small smile. 

“I—well, uh.. I forgot.” He stutters under your gaze, and you chuckle, finding him adorable. Pressing a kiss to his lips, you take some of the snacks from his. “Come on, let’s store them.” 

“Huh? Ye—yeah.” 

...

At least he’s trying. 

He even googles up stuff! Countless articles pop up, and Seokmin is surprised to find that multiple people actually resonated with his problem. But it also worries him, and his heart sinks reading said articles — In a sexless relationship? Instant red flag! — Sexual incompatibility and its effects on long-term relationships — 6 ways to find out that your partner hates yo-

He slams the laptop shut and buried his face in his hands. Trying to ignore the lump in his throat, he rubs his face over and over again. Tears prick his waterline, and he can’t bite back the sob that rakes from his chest. What if you do hate him? 

The insecurity gnaws at his heart, and he feels disgusted with himself. Seokmin hugs the pillow for some comfort and falls asleep within minutes. 

God damn Soonyoung.

You groan out loudly, removing your hands from between your thighs and catching your breath. Ever since he brought it up, you found yourself like this often. Naked, horny, and sopping wet. You sigh heavily and turn around your bed, caressing his side of the bed. 

Your boyfriend is fucking hot. He’s the most gorgeous man you know. Call it an exaggeration, but it is true. He’s a piece of art. And you? Well, you’re a woman. 

A woman who has fallen head over heels for him. 

Getting to know him through the first months of your relationship, you came to know about his gentle nature, and as others say, he’s god-sent, something you can’t deny. He’s got it all. Personality, looks, a rare kind of optimism, and certainly a good dick. (yes. You were going through an album he shared with you, consisting of old pictures from college and school, and interestingly enough, there was a mirror selfie of his naked self, sporting a boner.) 

And being honest, Seokmin is quite naïve at times, and any horny feelings were unintentionally locked up in favor of taking things slow. You didn’t want to mess up things, and you see a future with him, leading to subconsciously pushing away intimate moments. 

That is until Soonyoung opened the floodgates.

You groan again. Just because Soonyoungs words elicited a positive response from you doesn’t mean the same for Seokmin. He couldn’t even look at you after that, and with much of your efforts, you brought the relationship back to normal. But things are going south again, with him seemingly avoiding you. It is hard to do so when you are actively living with someone, but he is pent-up at work lately. 

With another curse, you sit up, determined to set things straight, Not by talking, but by some other means. 

He’s always stressed and tense from work, and what better stress-buster there is than sex? Checking the time, you smirk. There’s more than enough time to make extra preparations as well.

...

You’re lying on the bed again with a giddy feeling as you anxiously wait for your boyfriend to return him. You bite your lip, resisting the urge to check yourself in the mirror again. You bathed, sprayed his favorite perfume, and applied a bit of gloss, wanting to keep it natural. You’re wearing sexy white lingerie, not too provocative and not too boring, it was perfect. And since you didn’t want to give your boyfriend a heart attack, you wore one of his t-shirts, covering the lingerie. 

The sound of the front door opening has you sitting up in a frantic and your heart races when you hear his usual “Honey, I’m home!” you take deep breaths to ease your nerves and go outside to greet him. His back is turned to you as he removes his shoes and places them on the rack at the entrance. You hug his back, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face into his upper back. 

“Missed you,” you pout. You missed him so fucking much. Seokmin was taking mental escapes, and it really hurt to not see his usual happy-go-lucky self. 

He freezes under your touch, and you sigh. He turns in your embrace and smiles sweetly at you, murmuring a soft, “missed you too.” Before slotting his lips on yours. Your hands come up to hold his face and deepen the kiss. He hums against your lips, one of his hands move to your waist and the other to your face. 

He breaks the kiss, but not before another sweet peck. But you pull him in for another by grabbing his tie. He gasps when you bite his lip, giving you the perfect chance to slip in your tongue. He pulls you flush against him, fingers digging into your waist. You caress his hair and wrap your arms around his shoulder. The feeling of his tongue on yours is ecstatic, and you drown yourself in his scent.

You walk backward, slowly leading him to the bedroom. You gasp when he lifts you, and you wrap your legs around his waist, holding onto him. He gasps for breath and walks into the bedroom. Seokmin knows where this is leading, but he hasn’t processed any of what is happening now. 

He’s drunk on your scent, and the way you look at him makes him oblige to you, like a man lured by a siren. You don’t cease your kisses but reduce them to pecks and slowly move from his lips to his neck. He grunts lowly, feeling you sucking and nibbling on his sensitive skin. 

He sets you down on the bed, quickly moving to undo his tie, but you pull him down to the bed and straddle his hips. You bite back a moan, feeling his hard cock graze your thigh and continue your attack on his neck. He tilts his neck, giving you space, and rests his hands on your bare thighs, slowly moving them under the tee to your—oh.

The reality of what is happening dawns upon him as his fingers graze the lazy material of your panties. Seokmin gently pulls you away, gripping your shoulders as he looks at you with a bewildered look. 

“Shit. Do—do you not want this?” he watches your face morph through multiple emotions, and he notices the tears forming. 

“Wait, no. No! that’s not—wait. Please?” You nod, waiting for him. 

But Seokmin cannot form a word for the life of him, and he panics, uttering continuous ‘I’s and ‘uhm’s. He gives up, sighing and catching your eyes on him. Fuck. His cock twitches in his pants, and he can’t help the nasty thoughts that form in his mind. 

“Just,” he breathes in, closing his eyes before finding yours again. “Fuck me, please.”

You close the gap between you two, kissing his lips tenderly. Gently pushing him back, you make him lay on the mattress without breaking the kiss. You sigh against his lips, resting your forehead on his and silently searching for reassurance in his eyes. That reassurance comes with him pushing your hips down to his. 

You sit up, smiling prettily at him before removing his t-shirt. His eyes widen, and his mouth falls agape as he sits up to have a better look. You wore this for him? He rests his hand on your thighs, fixating his eyes on your breasts. You giggle, “you like it?” he nods wordlessly before switching positions. 

Seokmin looks down at your figure, “So pretty.” He whispers before kissing your neck, licking the skin, and nibbling on it. He kisses further and further down till he reaches the valley of your breasts. He looks up at you, catching your eager eyes and shit. The newfound confidence fades away, and his cheeks burn up. 

To add to his shyness, you lift yourself up, undoing the bra and flinging it into some corner. You guide his hands to your breasts, and your nipples harden immediately under his touch. You moan, pushing your chest out, encouraging him to do whatever he fucking wants. 

But you did not expect him to right away wrap his lips on your pebbled nipples as his hand toys with the other. You whimper and moan, turning putty in his hands. His tongue circles around your nipple before he sucks on it. Your panty sticks to your core like a second skin, and you feel more arousal drip through the material. 

He switches to the other one, sucking so diligently on it. Before he could go further below, you stop him. “Wait. I want to see you too.” You whisper breathlessly. 

You help him undress and bite your lips, soaking in his figure. Watching as he slips off his pants, you feel yourself grow hotter. Seokmin looks like what you could only describe as a walking wet dream. Your eyes dart all over his figure. Wide shoulders and strong biceps complemented by a firm chest and a toned abdomen. And, thick thighs complementing his—oh, god. 

Your eyes widen, and your mouth waters as you see the outline of his cock. He’s thick and big. Enough to pleasure you and not enough to hurt. So, in total, it’s perfect. You just want him to bruise your insides and-

Seokmin holds your chin, gently tilting your head up to make you look at him. You look at him through your eyelashes and pout lightly at him while arching your back and closing your arms to push your breasts together.

His cock twitches, leaking pearls of precum that stained his boxers. His chest fills with confidence at the way you are reacting to him. Even he cannot comprehend what he's doing. Your effect on him is that powerful. 

He takes you by surprise and kneels on the floor. It's his turn to look at you through his lashes, big brown eyes staring at you with need. You lick your lips, watching him as he pulls you to the edge and spreads your legs. He kisses your heat through the lacy material and licks at the patch formed by your arousal. His nose presses against your clit, and you gasp, feeling all the bones in your body weaken as he has his way with you. 

Pulling away, he slides his fingers under the hem of your panties and peels it off you, leaving you bare. It joins the pile of clothes, and he dives right in, licking and kissing your folds. “Fuck!” you arch your back and push your cunt onto his face. His nose directly presses against your clit, and you moan as he basically fucking makes out with your cunt. 

You close your legs around his head and tangle your fingers with his locks, pushing him further. He sucks on the little bundle of nerves, then circles his tongue around it with occasional kitten licks. You tug at his hair harshly, and your moans fill the room along with wet sounds as he eats you out. Feeling the orgasm inching closer, you force his mouth off you. 

“Need you,” you whimper, grabbing his face and kissing him. He moans into your mouth as you roughly push your tongue past his lips, tasting yourself on him. His cock twitches with need when you rake your nails down his nape and shoulders. Seokmin grows hotter, thinking about your hands pumping his cock as you suck on his tip. 

You pull away to get down on your knees and hook your finger under the hem of his boxers as he stands up. You pull it down, gawking at his hard, twitching cock, and take him in your hands. His cock rests heavy in your hands, and you couldn’t care less about the cold floor biting your knees. You give the tip an experimental lick, tasting his precum while batting your eyelashes up at him. 

You grin, satisfied when he throws his head back, groaning at a small lick. Without warning, you take half of his length in your mouth, eyes rolling back at the feeling of it resting heavily on your tongue. He tangles his fingers in your hair, looking down at you while he moans a string of curses. Wrapping your fingers around his base, you pump his length and swirl your tongue around his tip. 

You bounce your head up and down his cock, getting used to his girth. You pull away momentarily, and a string of saliva connects your lips to his tip. Licking your lips, you maintain eye contact with him and wrap your lips around his length once again. But this time, you take his full length in your mouth, gagging and enjoying how he fills you up. You hold his thighs for support, sliding his cock out fully before taking him again. 

You do this a couple of times and feel him twitching in your mouth. Seokmin pulls your mouth off his cock, biting his lips in vain to prevent moaning at the erotic sight before him. You know how to put that mouth to use. A few more seconds and he would’ve cummed down your throat. 

With a huff, he pulls you up and backs you to the bed. You lay on the soft sheet, letting him take control. You gasp when he teases his tip on your folds, coating it in your arousal, and he moans, feeling your warmth and wetness. His tip nears your entrance, stretching past your folds, and then—

“Shit. Condoms,” he curses, eyes snapping towards yours in worry. You chuckle, finding your dumbfounded boyfriend adorable. “I’m on pills. Don’t worry.”  

His eyebrows crease, “Since when?”

“Since that dinner. Couldn’t stop thinking about you and your cock.” 

A light blush settles on his cheek, and he smiles at you, shaking his head. He pushes his hair back to calm himself down, and you sigh, finding him hot. There he sits on his knees, between your legs, and a coat of sweat glistens on his skin. He looks ethereal and hot. Yeah, you’d let him rearrange your insides. 

He chuckles, finding your lusty eyes ogling him. “You’re making me shy!” 

And you hook your arms under your knees, pulling your legs to your chest. You bite your lips with a sultry look on your face, and he groans, watching your pussy glisten under the light. He readjusts himself, feeling your folds with his tip again. 

You gasp and moan as his length fills you up, stretching your walls. You haven’t had sex in over a year, and you’re feeling the effects now. Tears well up, and you close your eyes, attempting to adjust to his length. Seokmin leans down, kissing your tears away, and you open your eyes, finding his chocolate eyes staring at you with love and lust.

“Shit. Is it too much? I can pull out, baby.” He softly says, voice laced with concern. You shake your head, whispering a ‘no.’ You lift your head up, slotting your lips against his.

You hook your hands around his nape, deepening the kiss. He holds your waist as you wrap your legs around his hips, holding still till you adjust. Your gummy walls grip his length tightly, making his head spin. After a few moments, you pull away from the kiss, taking a deep breath and nodding at him. 

Seokmin pulls out slowly, leaving only his tip in before slowly sinking back. You both moan in unison when he fills up again. He does this a few times before settling into a comfortable and pleasurable pace. You moan with each snap of his hips towards yours, eyes rolling back in pleasure. His cock kisses your walls in all the right places.

His moans mix with yours in the bedroom, along with the sounds of your hips meeting. Your cunt squeezes his cock, and the wetness allows him to easily slide his cock in and out of you. The feeling of your arousal coating his cock is sinful, and your naked skin on his makes warmth pool in his chest. 

He catches your lips in a sensual kiss, slowing down his pace. His tongue slides against yours easily, wandering your mouth. Your arousal drips down, sticking to his balls with each thrust. You bite his lower lip, making him whine into your mouth, and fasten his pace a bit. You slide your hand between your bodies to stimulate your clit, but he beats you to it.

Long, slender fingers rub at your clit, drawing in your orgasm. You buck your hips up, desperately meeting his cock and fingers. Seokmin moans when you clench his cock, speeding up his climax. You whine, feeling the familiar knot in your stomach, and he feels his cock twitch as well. His pace stutters, turning erratic as he kisses you messily. 

With a moan of his name, you cum on his cock and hold onto him for dear life. He follows suit, hips stuttering to a halt as ribbons of cum paint your walls. He rests his forehead on yours, trying to catch his breath. You sigh in bliss, his warm cum filling you up to the brim. 

He pulls out, falling to your side and instantly pulling you into a cuddle. His cum oozes out, and it should feel dirty, but it doesn’t. Instead, it feels like home, warm and cozy, with his cum filling up your cunt. 

“I love you,” he whispers into your ear, and you giggle, feeling his breath tickle you. You can’t see him, but you feel his smile. “I love you too, baby.” And you giggle again when he kisses your neck, accidentally tickling you again.

His strong hands wrap around you comfortingly. And a serene silence envelops you both. Only for a while, though, “should I order pizzas?” 

You heartily laugh, slapping his chest lightly, and peck his cheeks. He adorably grins at you, pulling you closer. You rest your head on his chest, hugging him with a lazy smile. 

“Was that ok?” he voices out.

“Hmm, the pizza?” 

His chest reverberates as he chuckles, “No—I mean yes. That’s also there but…” 

“Was the … sex good?” he finishes, and you look up, meeting his curious eyes tinged with insecurity. But you smile brightly at him, nodding, “The best I’ve ever had.” His eyes widen before he squints at you playfully. 

“Don’t lie, it was that good?”

“Yep. 10/10. Best cock in the world.”

You both laugh, and he adds, “your...” He coughs, “uhhh...” He gives up, gesturing towards your heat and nodding in acknowledgment. Your body shakes with laughter, and he hides his face shyly. You remove his hands and kiss his face, hugging him closer. Silence settles again, and you feel content in his arms before he speaks again. 

“Also, pizza ok?” 

tags; @seungkwanschicken @aaa-sia @dokyeomkyeom @bangantokchy @jespecially

@asyre @armycarat2612 @bewoyewo @pan-de-seungcheol

(send an ask to be added on the taglist!)

[withahappyrefrain]

Just a Game

You and Peter like to play a game. It requires no trivia or plastic pieces. Just two people and feigned innocence.

Warnings: CNC (which has been discussed explicitly) unprotected sex, language, minor breeding kink at the very end

You and Peter like to play a game. 

It's not a board game, though you two enjoy those from time to time. Not a video game, though Peter has expressed interest. 

This game doesn't require any trivia knowledge or plastic pieces. No one has to keep track of points. There isn't a timer. 

All this game requires is a surface and your two bodies. 

Sometimes it was a couch, when you two were in the middle of watching a movie. Other times it could be your kitchen counter, dinner be damned. Rarely, it would be the back of a car, which was your favorite. Peter’s favorite-against a wall- depended on when and where. 

Today the surface was your shared bed. 

It started innocently, like it always does. Peter found you curled up in bed, reading. He hadn’t considered playing today. But then he saw you, wearing only one of his hoodies and those pastel yellow panties that drove him wild. 

It didn’t help that Peter could smell you. Though the cover of your book didn't look out of the ordinary, your arousal revealed the true nature of your reading choice. 

“What’cha reading ladybug?” He asked, curling up to you. 

You put on an innocent smile, keeping the book to your chest, “Oh nothing. Just one of those silly romance books.” 

Peter raised his eyebrows, “Silly? Let me see.” 

Before you could squeak out an objection, Peter snatched the book away, his eyes scanning the page you were on. 

“He pushed her dress up to her hips, revealing her wet core. He dove in, lapping up her arousal like a starved man, his mouth quickly attaching itself to her clit.”

Sometimes you got so caught up in playing your role. Peter had said much dirtier things to you and yet there you were, head in your hands and a warm flush coursing through your body. 

Peter placed the book on your nightstand before bringing your hands away from your face. 

“Oh baby. You’re too sweet to be reading something like that. Why don’t we cuddle instead?”

With his brown puppy dog eyes and sweet smile, he actually sounded genuine. For a moment, you thought he wasn’t inviting you to play. Not when he had his head in your lap, practically purring as your fingernails gently scratched his scalp. 

But then his long, nimble fingers made their way under the blanket, grazing against your bare skin, drawing shapes along your thighs as he made his way up your body.

“Peter.” His name was said in a sweet, sing-song voice, “Thought you wanted to cuddle.”

He sat up, pulling you closer, “I do bug.” Peter's other hand was now underneath your shirt, creeping up to your chest.. 

“Peter,” you could barely breathe, too enthralled with how good his fingers felt kneading your breasts, “This isn’t cuddling.” 

“I know,” He sighed, as if he felt some guilt about what he was doing, “But doesn’t it feel good bug?”

You could only nod, breath hitching up when one of his large hands began to toy with the elastic waistband of your panties. 

The foreplay was fun, but it wasn't the main focus of the game. 

That didn't come until you were underneath him, completely bare and withering as his hard cock slid between your soaked folds. It was a battle, fighting the urge to jerk your hips up, potentially catching him. 

“Peter, w-we shouldn't,” your voice was shaky as you tried to come across as worried rather than in a pleasure laced haze.

“I know. We shouldn’t.” He's panting. Peter's lips ghosted over your bare skin, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses. 

In this game, your birth control and five year relationship didn't exist. 

No. In this game you were wide-eyed and innocent. In this game, both your heads were clouded with lust, longing threatening to overtake common sense. 

“Maybe,” His voice is soft, addictive. “Maybe I-we-just the tip?” 

You throw your head back when the head of his cock makes contact with your clit. Desire racked through your body, fingers creating crescent shaped marks along his back as you searched for something, anything to ground you amidst the pleasure haze that was clouding your judgment. 

Part of you wanted to break character so he would fuck you sooner. 

But where was the fun in that?

“But we-fuck- we don’t have a condom?” A box of condoms was currently stashed away in your nightstand. You had been on birth control for years. There was no concern.

Again, not in this game. 

With your wide, doe-like eyes, sweet voice, and withering body, Peter was truly surprised he hadn’t come already. 

But where was the fun in that? That didn’t allow him to play, to take off the friendly neighborhood hero mask and act out his deepest desires. 

His head dropped down to your chest, his thin pink lips quickly latching on to one of your breasts. Your back arched in pleasure, hands grabbing Peter’s soft chestnut locks upon feeling the scrape of his teeth. His hips continue to thrust forward, reminding you of what was within reach. 

“I know, forgot to bring some. It would just-just be the tip,” He sounds like he just ran a marathon. You’re so warm and wet. Everytime the plush head of his cock nudges against your clit, he can feel your walls clenching, trying to catch him, enticing him in. 

“Peter,” the way you moan his name is sweeter than any song he’s heard, “We-no. Peter, don’t.”

He’s already grabbed the backs of your thighs, hitching them up to your chest. Now he has the picture view of his cock sliding through your slicked folds. You have the prettiest cunt Peter’s ever seen and God, does he want to use it.

Your hips twitch as he nudges his cock towards your all too welcoming entrance, entranced by how your walls eagerly suck him in. Eyes roll to the back of your head upon feeling the head of his cock begin to stretch you, nearly forgetting your role in all this. 

“W-wait!” You try to prop yourself up, try to jerk your hips away. 

But Peter is stronger. It drives you crazy, his strength. His hands grasp your shoulders, pushing you back down onto the mattress. 

“It’s okay bug. Just the tip, remember?” The ambered irises are blown out with lust. Combined with the downright wicked smirk adorning his handsome face, he looks more devilish than heroic. 

It thrills you. No one else sees this side of him, only you. Only you does he feel comfortable enough to indulge in these desires. 

For a few moments, it's only the tip, sliding in and out of your tight walls. 

Sometimes he’ll dive right in, other times he'll drag it out, as if Peter is truly at war with his morals when it comes to your sweet cunt. 

“Just….just the tip,” he whispers, as though he’s trying to convince himself, trying to convince you. 

The outcome is clear, but you still nod your head. “Just the tip,” you agree. 

“So…fucking tight,” He watches where you two connect in awe, lips parted, “So warm. God…feel fuckin’ incredible.” 

The praise leaves goosebumps on your skin, almost distracting enough to not notice that Peter has been slowly pushing his cock in more and more with each passing moment. Your body betrays you, hips jerking upwards in a desperate, near pathetic attempt to get more of his cock. 

Sometimes the game is hard to keep up with. There have been times where you both forfeit, craving each other far too much to continue. 

If Peter noticed you breaking character, he didn’t acknowledge it. He’s too mesmerized by the way your cunt eagerly welcomes him. 

“Fuck, baby, m’sorry, it’s-you feel s’good.” His speech is slurred, drunk off your body. Before you can react, he thrusts forward, filling you to the brim. 

Finally. 

“Pete-no! We can’t!” You plead, despite your body enthusiastically welcoming the intrusion, “You said-ah! You said the-the tip!”

His cock twitches at your words, at the feigned concern in your voice. His lips ghost over your face, hips increasing the speed of their thrusts. 

“I know, I know,” it’s almost convincing, that he truly feels bad for this, for giving in to lust. As if neither of you wanted it. 

He picks up his pace, shushing your fake protests. His cock feels incredible, so full. No matter how much prep beforehand, the sheer size of Peter is still an adjustment. 

“You'll- you’ll pull out, right?” You gasp, eyes meeting his. 

“‘Course bug,” He chuckles. 

He won't. But it's the false promises that keep you going.

“As-ah- as long as you pull out, it's okay, right?” You're committed to the role of the naive girlfriend, Peter will give you that. The concern in your eyes is incredibly convincing. 

Sometimes he's so caught up in the euphoria of you that he forgets to play along. All he has to do is look you in the eyes to remember his role. 

“Yeah, it's okay. God, feels incredible. Your pussy.” He hitched your legs further up until they were nearly resting on his shoulders. The change in angle allowed him to thrust deeper, reaching the spot that made you see stars. 

Bliss quickly overcame you, causing you to focus less on the game and more on the coil that was currently winding up in the pit of your stomach, threatening to snap at any moment. 

“God, you're clenching me. Can barely pull out.” His pressed his lips against yours, capturing them in a messy kiss. 

You shake your head, “Y-you should. Peter!”

But Peter continues, relishing in how tight you're gripping him. It's addictive. 

“Everytime I try to pull out, your little cunt sucks me back in. Think she wants me to stay.” His words elicit a downright desperate whimper from you. 

“How’s this? I'll stay ‘till ya cum.” His composure was incredible, his voice so soft you almost believed him. 

Almost. 

Weakly, you nodded as Peter’s perfidious promise promptly pershing into the periphery of your mind. Who could express you to focus, when his nimble fingers were toying with your clit? 

Your pleas to stop fade away, occasionally a feeble no falling from your lips. His massive hands were all over you, kneading at your soft skin, sure to leave bruises. 

It's one of the best things to Peter, waking up and admiring the work he did on your body from the night before. 

But for now, he could enjoy another favorite-you. It was cute, nearly adorable how your legs shook, your hips jerking upwards, desperate to get more despite already being full of him. The pathetic whimpers that fell from your lips, unable to form anything coherent. With each thrust, your breasts bounced against your chest. 

It was picturesque. Peter wished he could grab his camera to immortalize this moment, but that would break the illusion. 

So instead, his fingers skim your soft skin, tracing over your plush curves, downward until he reaches his desired location. 

After all, he promised he'd pull out once you cum. So why not help? 

His fingers on your clit felt like lightning, sending a crack of electricity up your spine. It's euphoric, you can't even bother to play along, hands gripping the strands of his hair tightly as the bedroom is quickly filled with your moans. 

When you finally get pushed over the pleasurable edge, it’s loud. There are no whines or pleads for Peter to pull out. Only raucous moans that fill the bedroom, combining with the erotic sound of his skin slapping against yours. 

“Shit, feel s’good. S’fuckin tight,” He pants, “Babe-baby. You feel s’good. Don’t know if I can pull out.”

His words jolt you out of the lavender haze, reminding you of the part you were still playing. 

“N-No. You can’t!” 

Peter nods his head, though he’s not agree with you, “M’sorry,feel s’good.”

You try to sit up, to put up a fight. But just as you do, you’re pushed back down, your hands above your head, enclasped with Peter’s. His body covers you like a warm weighted blanket, the kind where it’s so soft and deceptively confining, you can’t get up even if you wanted to. The spicy scent of cinnamon that always lingers on his body floods your nostrils, his mouth swallowing your pleas to stop as his hips erratically slam into yours. 

It was blissful. You were enraptured by Peter, by his body, roleplay be damned. Your legs wrapped themselves around his lithe waist, pulling him closer. 

Peter reaching his own high triggers yours again, walls clamping tightly down on his cock as he floods you with his warm. 

“Baby, m’s’sorry, feels too good,” it's then you register he's still rutting his hips against yours. 

Well this is a new move. Usually the game ended at this point. 

The chance to prolong, to try something new was thrilling. 

So you shook your head. “Peter!” Your moan contained more desire than it did distress, “N-no, you need-oh- pull out!” 

But Peter just grunts. It's so animalistic, your thighs clench at the sound. His refractory period was much shorter than anyone else you had been with, no doubt thanks to a radioactive spider bite. 

Now sensitivity is surging through your body, pain and pleasure mixing together. He's hitting the spot that makes you see stars, the spot you didn't think existed until you met Peter. 

It's getting harder to stay in character. But as long as Peter is trying, so will you. 

“Y-you promised you'd pull out!” 

“I know,” he groans in your ear, “Shouldn't have such a fucking tight cunt then. Don't know how ya expect me to pull out.” 

His teeth sink down into your throat, earning a sharp gasp. 

“God, your cunt,” the scruff of his beard scratches against your skin, “Think you want me to cum in ya again.” 

You shook your head, “No! Please!” Fingers claw at his strong back to no avail. He continues with his harsh thrusts, paying no attention to how your mixed arousal was leaking onto the sheets. 

“No- stop!” But that wasn't your safe word. 

He could tell you were already close, your moans increasing in pitch, how your walls were clinging to his cock. 

You just needed a little help getting there. 

“Gonna cum in ya again. It might just take this time. Is that what you want? For me to fuck a baby in ya?” 

The illusion of your feigned innocence shatters, his words igniting a flame in you that can't be fanned out. 

You're now wailing, nodding enthusiastically at Peter's words. Fingers which were once clawing at him now grip his shoulders. Instead of jerking away, your hips move upwards. 

“Y-yes! Want it to take s’bad! Please fill me up!” 

Your voice was nearly unrecognizable; whiny and desperate. It only spurs him on, his cock thrusting into you at a near bruising pace. 

Peter's next high is with your’s, hips stuttering as he fills you once more. He knows he could go again, but everyone needs a break, an intermission before the next act. 

The next few moments, you two are speechless. The only audible sounds are that of heavy breathing and the overhead ceiling fan.

“Well, that was fun,” you chuckled, running your fingers absentmindedly through his hair. 

Peter finally made eye contact with you. His eyes are dark, almost black with lust. The grin on his face is downright wolfish. 

“Oh sweetheart, I'm far from done with you.” 

You were in for a long night. 

[monstersholygrail]

So about this Demon priest, I'm intrigued... go on. I can imagine as he's in the middle of a sermon, reader walks in, as reader just felt led to enter the church. As soon as Demon priest sees reader... he stumbles over the carefully and well prepare recitations. Sight focused on the back pew that reader silently sat on, not even noticing the uncharacteristic falter of the priest, nor realizing his eyes trained on them. He's been enraptured.

This is amazing, I am all for making this canon to Demon Priest. He’s so stinkin cute.

When you first walk into the church, Demon Priest swears he’s finally been graced with the presence of an angel once more. Your beauty ethereal, your presence divine in nature.

Hope blossoms within his chest that he has finally completed his repentance. That he will finally be welcomed back into those pearly gates. With heavens light shining back at him in your eyes how can he think otherwise?

He meets you after the service and realization dawns on him that you were not a messenger sent from above to take him to rejoin his fellow brethren. No, he realized instead that you were something far greater.

As part of his repentance, Demon Priest feels the pain of remaining inside a holy sanctuary. His feet burn with every step he takes, his hands while holding all blessed liturgical objects, and his face with the use of Holy water. With his demon healing they heal, only for them to come once more. Yet they each leave their own scars.

But as soon as your hand slips into his in greeting, Demon Priest feels as though a balm has been washed over his soul. The pain leaving him instantly with your touch. You certainly weren’t there to bring him home but perhaps you were something better than he could’ve ever imagined.

You were a gift.

Sent down from above and placed on his path. A testament to his strength and devotion. And he would be so utterly devoted. To you.

At every turn he seeked your approving gaze. At every chance he could risk he seeked your soothing touch. You had so utterly consumed him, turning his world upside down until it all came back to you.

It wasn’t long before he could no longer resist the idea of what it would be like to feel more of you. To grasp your supple flesh in his palms. Take your hardened nipples between his razor sharp teeth. Taste the sweet nectar of your essence on his tongue. He wanted all of you. To consume you as you had him.

Now as his hands run all over your body, leaving a lustful heat in his path, he finally has. The stain glass windows of his office shine down on you, illuminating your beauty as you ride his cock.

Your body bouncing so prettily along his hardened length, his eyes watch you with a feral hunger. Claws digging into your hips as he fucks up into you, not being able to help himself from taking you as roughly as he’s been wanting to. Your cries of pleasure being the most lovely sound he’s ever heard.

“Yes! It’s s-so good. Feels so good. I can’t believe we’re doing this,” you exclaim, baring your neck for him. His cock twitches within your wet heat, the curves of your body driving him closer to delirium.

He molds himself over your form, not being able to get close enough to the ecstasy of your skin. His lips latching on and sucking heartily at each of your breasts, leaving you panting as you try and match his every thrust.

“Tell me, my beloved, how can I be expected to deny you? That which I most crave. My greatest temptation…” he growls and you feel the vibration move through your body and shoot straight to your soaked core.

His claws sink into your plush hips, using his hold to slam you down on his needy cock. A hoarse cry is ripped from your lips. Hands finding purchase and bringing a soothing relief to his shoulders as he drives himself into you.

“Let me worship you,” he whispers with an intensity that sends chills up your spine. Yet you can’t focus on its meaning as your pleasure bursts through you, clenching down as you cum hard on his cock.

Demon priest grunts, his fierce eyes never leaving your expression so deeply filled with ecstasy. The sight of your pleasure enough to send him right over the edge with you, stuffing you full of his length as he shoots his cum deep into your womb.

And it’s in that moment he knows. He has found salvation in you.

[willyoubemycherryy]

𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝒸𝒶𝓃’𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌. (𝐹.𝒯𝒾𝑔𝑒𝓁𝒶𝒶𝓇)

This is unexpected I know but I saw wicked recently and it changed me. I love that man so go ahead and call me Metallica because nothing else matters. Here, have my heart it’s yours.

Contains: emotional distress, mentions of anxiety, angst, comfort, established relationship insults, allusions to smut, Fiyero x reader

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

•. ° ⋆✴︎ ˚｡⋆

Being at Shiz was supposed to be a good fit for you. Everyone here has a gift just like you so naturally, you’d blend right in.

No muss, no fuss…right?

Wrong.

Your “gift” quickly turned into a curse when you found yourself involved with a certain irritatingly charming prince whose heart was secretly bigger than those eyes he’s always roaming over you with.

How you got into this was a mystery because normally men like Fiyero simply weren’t your type. Free spirited, flirtatious, distracting, thoughtless…he was almost cavalier. But you soon found out that there were no men like Fiyero because he was one of a kind; although you weren’t sure what kind and you could never bring yourself to ignore him….

And so your relationship was formed.

You noticed you two were opposites yet with Fiyero it seemed like the thought never quite occurred to him. That unconditional affection for everyone he so easily held about him was what did you in. The way he lulled people together, outcasts and norms didn’t matter, it all made your organized world spin out of orbit with him at the center. And oh how pleasant spinning was.

The warm tingling that raced through you when he’d take your hand, gently kissing his way up from the back of your hand to the crux underneath your ear leading to your jaw, brushing your hair to your opposite shoulder so he could place a few more warm, generous kisses on the sensitive skin around that area, purposefully ignoring your quiet sighs of bliss, before finally kissing your lips and asking tenderly,

“How is my darling girl today, hm?”

Yes, being with Fiyero was a dream. So why…

Why have you been plagued with visions of him meeting a most terrible and lonely end?

They started off fleeting- your visions- a little glimpse of your love in a field then darkness before they began to escalate drastically. You would see your Fiyero in a field and in that field he appeared to be fighting guards before being outnumbered and taken away. The next time your vision changed…and Fiyero along with it. That was what ultimately broke you. The same field but only this time there was no Fiyero.

Only a scarecrow.

But the posted up thing seemed so familiar to you, the jacket reminding you of big hands around your waist while you held on the the muscled arms of that same jacket, smiling and laughing breathlessly as you were spun, music and life playing as you two danced on…as the memory faded, that’s when you realized that that was Fiyero. You woke up bawling in a cold sweat, almost delirious with grief.

The dream visions kept happening.

You resorted to napping only when necessary but that was never long, so on top of sleep deprivation your anxiety was off the charts. The slightest thing seemed to always snap something in you which made your mood and eventually appearance- tank. In other words, you were a wreck.

Fiyero, obviously, was the first to notice and decided he wouldn’t push you to talk about it if you weren’t ready so he decided to just stay by your side as he always did but he made his presence softer, more gentle.

For you. He’d do anything for you.

Only you didn’t improve much. Dark circles, the way your anxiety grew to panic, especially when Fiyero wasn’t around and it was becoming difficult to ignore. The way you became almost frantic about him. Out of your mind with worry.

One day it all gave when you were studying in his dorm suite and he grew restless. Not wanting to disturb you, Fiyero gave a soft kiss to the top of your head, smiling at the cute focus lines on your forehead as you read, before slipping out the door for a walk around, to get rid of some of the extra energy. You hadn’t even noticed until almost an hour later when you look up and your Fiyero is nowhere to be found. Panic set in immediately.

It was like gravity suddenly failing as everything you’d been holding back came crashing into the surface. The fear of losing him and the joy he bought you with something as simple as his smile, the grief of knowing how badly you’d miss him if something happened and he’d be taken away from you, the sadness because you needed him, loving him more than he’ll ever know. Both your panic and despair led to the flood of tears.

You tried to breathe, to think rationally, but you just couldn’t, exhausted by the weight of your emotions.

Left crying for what felt like eons, the door suddenly swings open, quick loud footsteps then big warm hands cup your face looking at you with all the concern in the world as you sob hopelessly.

Fiyero’s eyes search your face with a frown. It’s true that you’ve been having a difficult time these last few weeks, though he’s not sure what’s been causing it but seeing you like this…on his knees Fiyero suddenly wraps his arms around you, crushing you to his chest as he brings a hand to hold the back of your head, tucking you under his chin, soothing you until you quiet. The wetness on his shirt, the mess of your lovely hair, the shattered mirrors from the impact of your emotions; none of that matters more than how you’re actually feeling. What’s truly wrong with you.

“Please”, the desperation in his voice brings a fresh wave of tears that spill down your cheeks but he has to know,

“tell me princess, what is it thats filled you with such sadness?”

Your voice is hoarse when you take a deep breath and downright pained when you reply.

“Don’t go away from me. Stay with me, by my side, you can’t leave you can’t-!” Fiyero stops your incoming meltdown by tightening his hold on you, shushing you gently, before titling your chin with a bent index finger, heartbreak bleeding into his eyes as he sees the fear in yours.

“How ever could I go away from you?”, he asks, lightly shaking his head. “I’ll always be here. Why? Do you think I’ll leave?” You can tell from the way he’s speaking that he’s not trying to upset you even though he’s unaware of the image his question brings you, still you answer. “…no. I’m worried you’ll be stolen- taken from me. Gone in every world where I’d never get to be with you again”, and Fiyero’s eyes widen in shock.

“Who would take me awa-“, you cut him off as the truth spills out into the air. Your visions, the way you know they’re caused by that underlying evil that’s been plaguing Oz like a slow working poison, even him and the scarecrow. You tell him everything down from the very night you got the first vision of him in that damned field. By the end you’re gasping through the stream of tears that break up your wails and Fiyero reels for a moment with parts victory and fear. Victory because ha! He knew Oz was off and fear because your visions were never wrong…either way..you were basically telling him that he was going to die.

And that’s been the cause of your recent state.

You weren’t just sad- you were mourning.

Mourning him.

In a lot of ways, you two were connected. You loved him and he loved you. When you are together- hell- when you’re simply in the same space, your hearts beat the same beat. Not a pump out of place and Fiyero felt that, when he hugs you and your chest is pressed to his or sometimes more intimately…warmth over your naked forms as he rocks into you deeper, claiming your mouth in pleasure as your nails rake down his back. His chest is pressed against yours then too, your hearts both beating as one, even as he drives into all your senses with a catching heat you could never control.

He was also the first not to be weary of your visions the way most people were. It was a rare gift so not much was known about foretellers and people tended to fear what they didn’t understand but there was a constant stigma that they only foretold catastrophe. He knew that wasn’t true as bad does need good and you only proved his point.

Starting with when you casually foretold him to make sure his fly isn’t down in the mess hall that Wednesday like you saw it would be, leading to quite the moment. And unlike most people, Fiyero did not heed your warning, he simply let his pants be. After the embarrassment of the entire student body noticing and things had quieted to their normal schedule, you cornered him in the hall and called him every kind of dimwit imaginable.

“Moron! You daft, airheaded, twittle brained, dim witted, dumb, doe-eyed, idiot buffoon! Did you not hear a wit of what I told you Monday?!”

“I-“

“I wasn’t finished! I told you so you could keep it from happening! Having a pleasing face and pretty smile won’t always distract everyone from your mishaps! Be more responsible!”

That’s when he realized it. One, that foretellers weren’t all about doom and gloom; and two, the delicious way you didn’t hesitate to lay into him like others never did, with that scowl on your pretty face showed him that he needed to have you.

“Ah, so you find my face to be pleasing?” The flush that bloomed across your face made him smirk as he let his ego take over.

“You’re not wrong. It is quite pleasing, in more ways than one-“, you cut him off with a scandalized gasp, promptly turning on your heel and scurrying away with a slightly tinted face. The implications of his words giving you quite the head-rush. Oh, you were so going down.

Only it wasn’t easy. You didn’t want him when he was Fiyero Tigelaar of Winkie Country- no. You preferred him when he was just..Fiyero. So now seeing the woman who loves him for him breakdown because you were petrified of losing him made a pit settle in his stomach that he desperately wanted to wish away as he rushed to comfort you.

“Shhh, hey, it’s alright. I’m here- right here. Nothing is taking me away from you. I wouldn’t let it.” The hushed whisper of his words fell over you like a blanket but the nagging worry was still there.

“But what-“

“No what if’s. I will not go anywhere that you can’t follow.”

The resolution in his voice makes you look up, staring at him through blurry wet eyes, closing them when he bought his hand up to wipe them, cooing softly. Silence took over as you allowed yourself to calm, taking him in. The sound of his voice, how he spoke, the gleam that was forever in his eye, the broad heat from his body, the lovely smell that always clung to him and rubbed off on you, even his hands. In the silence you whisper back to him.

“Promise me”, you’ll swear him to it, if that’s what it takes to keep him strictly by your side.

“I promise.” Of course he does, and without hesitation.

Wordlessly, you’re lifted and carried a short distance before you’re laid down, back falling into the plush comforters around you as Fiyero settles over top of you, raining slow tender kisses across your face. The familiarity of such a position makes you flush as your hands find purchase on his wide shoulders.

“I’m afraid, my pet, that we still have another problem…”, he trails off as you try to stay grounded.

“Mmm-oh! And what is that problem?” It takes longer than you would have preferred to get the words out, through the haze of Fiyero’s big hands caressing up your sides in a slow drag, thumbing at the sides of your breasts as he settles between your legs. Movements slow, languid.

“The problem”, he pauses to lave his tongue across the underside of your jaw, the hot wet muscle working as the kisses to your neck become molten, “..is how sad you still look.”

Look sad? You? You doubt it. The confused sound that leaves your dazed self makes him smile.

Your heart skips a hard beat when Fiyero presses himself against you, drinking in the way your teary eyes flutter back in pleasure with a bite of his lip, successfully having distracted you.

“Don’t worry though, it’s an easy enough fix…”, answering him coherently is the last thing on your mind as you let out a belated ‘hm’. Fiyero intentionally rolls his hips against your heat as your hands fly to his chest, working to get his shirt open with a whine.

“Yeah, told you I’m right here-“, he says pressing down on your lower tummy, “but I think it would help more for you to feel it no?”

Your response is pulling his head down to your lips, wanting him all over you as he licks into your mouth….

•

•

Afterwards when he’s tired you out enough to put you to sleep; there are no nightmares. No visions.

That night, or any of the ones after.

[yunjardi]

STRICTLY BUSINESS [18+]

[JAKE SIM DRABBLE]

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/pairing: boss!jake x fem!assistant/

/content warnings: smut [18+ mdni], semi-public sex, unprotected sex, oral [m receiving], dirty talk, spanking, making out/kissing, nail marks, pls lmk if i missed anything!!!/

/wc: 1,296

/author's note: i know i said this would be more of a drabble, but i got a little carried away lol. i'm super glad to be back after over a year <3 thank you to those who have been here and also those who are just stopping by :) ily <3

p.s. this is not proofread at all oops

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you found yourself wondering how you managed to get yourself into this position.

that said 'position' being on your knees between jake's legs as he sat back in his office chair.

you didn't think that this was something that actually happened in real life, fucking your boss that is. it seemed so unreal until a few short months ago when you were hired to be jake's personal assistant- something that would ultimately lead to you keeping a dirty little secret.

jake is smooth talker, so you assumed that he spoke in a flirty manner to everyone. that was until the two of you began building a closer relationship which was natural due to the nature of your job, but you didn't think that it would go this far, you didn't think that you two would end up being this close.

flirting turned into dates (that jake referred to as simply 'treating my assistant for being so great at her job'), dates turned into late nights together, late nights together turned into sleepovers, and those sleepovers soon became a regular occurrence. i mean, waking up and already being by your boss's side first thing in the morning makes your job a whole lot easier, right?

right.

whatever way you tried to dance around it doesn't (and won't) change the fact that you are, indeed, banging your boss.

"just like that," jake breathed out as you let his tip hit the back of your throat, "such a good girl."

a constant string of praises, moans, and curses fell from jake's pretty lips as you mercilessly teased him with your tongue, unable to stop yourself from getting wet in the process.

jake smirked and raised an eyebrow as he noticed one of your hands gently slipping into your panties. he watched as you pleased yourself whilst simultaneously pleasing him which was bringing him closer and closer to the edge.

"is my princess getting riled up?" jake cooed as he looked down at you, being sure to focus on the way you touched yourself. you couldn't help but look away as your face began to heat up at the sudden confrontation, but jake was quick to tilt your head up so that you had no choice but to look him in his pretty eyes.

"so cute," jake chuckled sexily as he brushed your hair away from your face, "now, be a good girl and sit on my desk, yeah?" naturally, you followed his orders (mostly out of habit at this point) and sat yourself up on his desk, ready to fulfill his every request.

he looked gorgeous standing before you, his hair slightly messy from having run his hands through it and his shirt halfway unbuttoned. it was impossible for anyone in their right mind to not be attracted to him in some way, shape, or form.

jake gently leaned in, giving you a tender kiss on the lips before moving down to you neck. his hands wandered from your lower back down to your thighs as he continued to kiss all over you, causing your breath to hitch. he made sure to hike up your already short skirt as the gap between your bodies became slimmer and slimmer.

you instinctively brought your hands up to further unbutton his shirt, wanting to see the entirety of his toned body. jake followed suit, beginning to slide the thin strap of your top down your shoulder before fully discarding your shirt somewhere in his office, leaving you in the lacy bra jake had gotten you as a gift for 'being such a great assistant.'

it drove him crazy to see you wearing the pretty bra he bought just for you, and it made him crave you even more desperately.

he couldn't resist you any longer.

he pulled you into a passionate kiss before teasing your entrance with his tip, causing a little gasp to get caught in your throat at the sudden rush. once again, he tilted your face upward, making sure to meet your gaze before slowly inching his throbbing tip into you. you gripped tightly onto his forearm as his cock went deeper and deeper inside you, your walls squeezing every inch of his length.

"jake-" you moaned out as you loosened your grip on his forearms, your hands now holding onto his as he slowly began to move his hips. your eyes rolled back as you let a string of moans leave your lips, his thick tip hitting your sweet spot with every single one of his strokes.

"your cunt is so tiny and small, yet you take me so well," jake smirked as he brought one of his hands down to your clit, beginning to gently rub circles around it as you struggled to keep your legs apart.

your moans became increasingly desperate as jake began to pick up his pace, his hands now gripping at your thighs as he pounded your sweet spot. you could only manage to let out little whines and begs for him to not stop as you felt yourself leaning closer and closer to your climax.

jake promptly picked you up from his desk and sat you down on his lap, guiding his length back inside you as to not waste any precious time that he could be spending fucking you.

the two of you moaned in sync as you sunk back down onto his cock, his tip immediately poking at your spot once again.

after he fully bottomed out, you wasted no time grinding your hips against his, still desperate to reach your high.

jake let his head fall back in pleasure as he left harsh spanks on your ass and thighs. "my good girl," jake moaned deeply into your ear as he left kisses on your neck, "you're all mine, yeah?" you barely managed to nod your head through the extreme pleasure. "mhm, all yours," you moaned breathlessly as he fucked his cock into you from underneath you.

a familiar burning sensation bubbled in your core as jake took control again, being rougher with you than he was before. all you could do was moan uncontrollably about how good he felt being this deep inside you.

"feels good, yeah?" jake teased as you snaked your hands around his shoulders, leaving your nail marks on his skin, "you haven't managed to let go of me since i put my dick inside you." he chuckled as he let caressed all over your body. you pouted at his teasing, but that only prompted him to grab your face and kiss you before pounding into your pussy again.

you could barely warn jake before you inevitably came all over his hard cock. all you could do was let out pathetic moans and hold onto him as you reached your high which jake found oh-so cute.

"you did so good for me, princess," jake praised you as he gently rubbed your clit, his cock still buried deep inside you, "i won't last much longer either." he sighed breathily, flashing his pretty smile before giving you a few more strokes. soon enough, jake finished alongside you, his deep groans penetrating your ears as he let his seed leak into you.

the two of you sat catching your breaths for a bit before jake helped you get cleaned up. you ruffled his hair as he turned to hand you his suit jacket. jake draped his suit jacket across your shoulders, adoring the way you looked wearing his clothes before the two of you exited his office.

a co-worker of jake's stopped to say hello and commented on how lively he seemed today.

jake couldn't stop the cheeky grin from forming on his face.

"well, what can i say? i've got a really great assistant to keep me company."

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a/n: thankyouthankyouthankyou for reading <3 i've truly missed writing and you all so much ! i'll be back with another one soon my loves <3

main taglist: @axartia @jjhmk @jayroseyy @ayohahaha @asaheyow @bunhoons @red-xherry @duolingofanaccount @leeis @jaeyunologyy @green-orangeade @imbaeksbae @sunghoonmybeloved @leeheeheeseung (send an ask to be added + if you have asked to be on my permanent taglist and don't see your username, pls message me bc i removed blogs that were unable to be tagged!)

©yunjardi on tumblr

[didhewinkback]

camaraderie

a little something old blurb for @harry-on-broadway's short n' sweet fic challenge + a request from agesssss ago (literally august 2023) The mc in something old decided to get a tattoo for Harry too..

word count: 2.5k ya girl saw the prompt and said let me do 5x that 🤦‍♀️

---

You blame the wine. 

Well, the wine combined with the way he’d been acting all dinner, searing gaze never leaving your face, his eyes drifting down to your lips when you were in the middle of telling a story. How in between courses he reached below the table, wrapping his hand around the bottom of your chair and pulling so you were side by side, his arm resting along the back of it, fingers drawing patterns on your shoulder. How somewhere between glasses two and three he leant in to whisper in your ear about how fucking good you looked, pressing a few kisses along your neck before pulling back to focus on his own plate. 

He’s always handsy but it takes on a different nature when he’s been drinking. His grip is tighter, his eyes linger for longer. He’s got to have his hands on you in some capacity, his attention never wavering from your orbit. Most social norms that he would typically follow are out the window; he won’t give anyone else an ounce of attention. Doesn’t care about being polite or upholding his usual good manners, not when his focus is on one thing and one thing only. 

You. 

So you can’t blame yourself for ruining the surprise you had been planning for weeks now, the one you took great lengths to hide, to save for the wedding day. You’re good at surprises, you know you are, you pulled off that 30th birthday surprise -  which took weeks of planning thank you very much. You’ve managed to surprise him on tour multiple times - nothing quite compares to seeing him walk into his dressing room and freezing in absolute shock when he sees you before instantly wrapping you up in his arms, holding tight while murmuring thank yous into your hair. 

So you thought you had this one in the bag. This surprise tattoo you got in the middle of the night at your hen do, all your girls taking bets on how long it would take before you revealed it to him - Jenna said you were going to show him the second you got home and you just about cut her out of the bridal party. The audacity. 

You had facetimed him that night, absolutely drunk off your arse and making him laugh so hard his eyes crinkled. You were stood outside the bar, showing off your obnoxious bridal sash while you slurred out that you just wanted to see the face you were going to love for the rest of your life. It made his face bloom into the greatest shade of pink you’ve ever seen. And even then! You said nothing. 

But how can you blame yourself now, when he guides you out of the restaurant with a hand on your lower back, the heat of it burning through your dress. When he takes your hand as you navigate your way through the busy Italian streets, bustling with activity, the excitement of early summer days in the air. He pulls you down a quieter side street, where it’s just the two of you and the cobblestones and street lamps lighting your way home. 

He pauses and turns to you, face flushed from the alcohol, his eyes grazing over your features as his lips twitch up into a soft smile, his hands coming up to cup your face, thumbs rubbing against your cheeks.

He takes a deep inhale, shaking his head almost in disbelief at the sight of you, which has you swaying on your feet more than you already are. He leans in slow, mouth inches away from yours, eyes closing as he breathes you in. 

He seems content to just stay there, mouth inches from yours, just teasing you. You can’t help but whine, impatience eating away at you. He huffs a laugh at the sound, eyes fluttering open to lock with yours before he brings your mouth to his and just kisses the hell out of you, tongue gliding into your mouth as he holds you close to him. You wind your arms around his neck, hands catching on the sweater he’s got draped across his back -  the one he swore he brought for himself but you know he only brought it just in case you got cold. 

He moves one hand down your body to wrap his arm around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as he slides his hand up into your hair to hold you in place while he slowly takes you apart with his lips, his tongue sliding over yours in a smooth pass, hand tightening in your hair when you softly moan. 

He pulls away slowly, if only to breathe, not letting go of you for a moment as he presses kisses along your cheek, your bodies so close together you can feel the way you’re both catching your breath. 

“Wanted to do that all night. Couldn’t believe this gorgeous girl was sat at my table,” he says, lips dragging against your skin. “All mine.”

“I am,” you gasp out and you can feel the words leave your mouth before you can stop them. “Got something to prove it.”

His hands tighten on you. “That ring, yeah?” he asks. 

And there’s your out. But for whatever reason - be it the wine, the dinner, the way his hands are holding you tight, the way his breath feels against your neck -  it just makes you want to give him everything.  You shake your head and he freezes. And then you freeze. 

Shit.

“Don’t go all shy on me now,” he mutters against your neck, pressing a kiss there before pulling his head back to look at you. His curious eyes roaming over your face, lips twitching into a smirk. 

You scrunch up your face, cringing at yourself for letting it slip so fucking close to the finish line. 

“Was trying to wait to show you until the wedding.” you say and his eyes light up, a man on a mission you already know you lost. “I blame you. If you weren’t so…”

Your hand gestures in a circle at him, not stopping at anything particular, just at his whole overall aura. His vibe. Him.

“Bloody irresistible?” he says, fully smirking now and you try your best to fight your smile, shaking your head at him. 

“That’s one word for it.” you deadpan and he honks out a laugh.

“Was working wonders on you a few moments ago.”

“Clearly.” you say and his gaze darkens, refocusing on the task at hand. 

He tightens his hold on your hips and walks you backwards until your back presses up against the terrace wall, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head to soften the blow, though he really is being gentle. You place your hands on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. It’s just the two of you tucked in a corner of the street with the glow of the nearby streetlamp casting shadows on his face, twinkling eyes never wavering from yours. 

“Can I see it now?” he asks softly, smile creeping on his face like he already knows the answer. He presses a soft kiss on your jaw, then the corner of your mouth.

“Please, baby,” he mumbles, the words barely out of his mouth before he’s pressing it to yours, kissing you slowly, thoroughly, the way he knows you like it, the way he knows makes you melt in his hands. 

He pulls back slowly, breathing out a laugh when your lips try to chase his but he keeps his distance so he can look right at you. 

“‘S it at home?” he asks, gaze darkening when you shake your head. You can see him swallow, your eyes catching on the way his throat moves as you try to slow down your racing heart, the way your heartbeat is thundering in your ears. Now or never. 

You keep your gazes locked as you bring your thumb up to your mouth, tongue darting out to lick the pad, heat flushing through you as his eyes track the movement. You lift your right hand and start rubbing at your ring finger, quickly licking at your thumb once more until you remove all the makeup covering up the tattoo. 

You can feel his eyes practically burning a hole through your hand, desperate to see what you’ve been hiding all this time. Once all the makeup is cleaned off, you look back up at him and hold out your hand. His brow is furrowed as he looks down and then he sees it. 

It’s not small, as far as finger tattoos go. A single H, in his handwriting, taking up the space between the lower half of your ring finger and your knuckle. Big enough where it’ll still be partly visible under the ring in a few weeks. Big enough that there is no doubt who it's for. Who you belong to. Who belongs to you.

You dreamt of this bit, what his face would look like when he saw it. What his reaction would be. For every day of the last month. And still you couldn’t have predicted this - the way all his breath leaves him in a rush, blinking rapidly as he grabs your hand and holds it up in the light, rocking back on his heels, practically swooning. 

“‘S that - that’s….” he cuts himself off, thumb rubbing over the tattoo. He sniffles, frozen on the spot as he stares at your hand. He takes a deep breath and looks back up at you, eyes a bit glassy, lips twitching as he tries to get ahold of himself. 

You bring your free hand up to cup his face, palm resting on the stubble, thumb dragging along his cheeks as he looks back at the tattoo. 

“Got a tattoo for me?” he croaks out, leaning into your palm. “Got inked up for me, baby?”

“I did.” you basically croak back, the look on his face making your stomach somersault. 

“Y’ said you’d never -”

“Changed my mind.” you say. “Really liked the idea of having something permanent for you on my skin.”

His grip on your hip tightens as his head falls to your collarbone, seemingly overwhelmed as he all but whimpers. His thumb hasn’t stopped slowly rubbing over the tattoo. You slide your hand up into his hair, nails scratching against his scalp and he leans up to kiss your cheek.

“Tell me about it?” he mumbles against your skin. “Please. Want the whole story.”

So you do. All the hazy details. How when you were on a pub crawl, making your way to the final destination of the evening, you passed a tattoo parlor and it felt like fate. You had known you wanted to get this done for ages, had photos on your phone of the proper lettering and size and no time seemed more appropriate than when you were out with your favorite girls in the whole world, all there to hold your hand through it.

How all you could picture when you got it done, when you were sitting through the sting of it, was the look on his face. How you’ve spent the last few weeks feeling quite stupid diligently covering it up, even over the covering and the nasty peeling which felt a bit insane. How all you’ve wanted for the last month is to tell him about it, to show him and to see this look on his face but you were waiting for the wedding day. How none of that matters now because you’ve got him looking at you the way he is and it's better than you could’ve ever dreamt. Has you feeling like you’re burning from the inside out.

“‘M glad you told me now,” he says, eyes still glimmering with emotion as he looks at you, still holding onto your hand, thumb over your finger. “Wouldn’t have been able to focus on the day. Can barely focus now.”

“You like it?”

“Like it? Are y’ joking?” he asks incredulously. “Baby, I love it. Feel like ‘m losing my mind.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, huffing a laugh. “Y’ know what mine mean to me…’s like I carry the people I love with me wherever I go. A reminder of how loved I am. ‘Nd how much I love them in return. And you doing this for me? I -”

His voice cuts out, thick with emotion as he swallows, taking a shaky breath as he blinks rapidly, holding your hand tightly in his. He huffs a shaky laugh when your thumb leans up to wipe away the errant tears that have slipped out. Shaking his head as if to clear it. Taking another deep breath before he speaks again.

“Just the thought of you… you going through the pain of this - wait, how bad did it hurt?”

“Really not that bad,” you say, softly giggling at the concern on his face. “Stung a bit but was nothing. Worth it.”

“My brave girl.” he says and you roll your eyes as he presses a kiss to the tattoo. “God this is the greatest thing ever. Can’t decide if ‘m gonna burst into tears or fuck you against this wall.”

You honk out a laugh at that. 

“Both works for me” you shrug, making him laugh just as hard.  “You've always been a great multitasker.”  

He wiggles his eyebrows at you, smiling when you laugh again. His eyes roam over your features as the laughter dies down, his expression growing more serious as he shifts his gaze from your face to your hand, thumb moving along your skin as if to prove it’s permanence and then looks back to you.

“Christ. I love you.” he says sincerely, the look in his eyes making your breath catch in your throat. “I love you so much, you know that right? Almost can’t put it into words. I just. Can’t believe y’ did this for me. My girl with my handwriting on her body. Forever.” 

“Yeah,” you say, just as sincerely. Feeling it deep in your bones. This is it. It’s him. Always has been.  “Forever.”

You see the way the word hits him, how he blinks back against the emotion as he takes a deep breath, looking back at the tattoo on your finger, lips twitching up into a disbelieving smile. 

He presses a soft kiss to it before placing your hand on his shoulder and slowly kissing his way up your arm, hands falling to your hips as you slide your hand into his hair. He moves along your shoulder, infusing his love into your skin with every press of his lips. He lingers on your neck as he presses his body right up against yours, hips pressing into yours as he sucks a mark into your skin. 

He kisses his way up to your jaw, eyes locking with yours before he pulls you impossibly closer and kisses you so deeply it makes your head spin. If there was any doubt in your mind about how he felt about you in this moment, it's answered in every press of his lips against yours, the way his tongue slides over yours, the way his hands come up to cradle your face when you sigh into his mouth, holding you so gently despite the way he’s kissing you so hard, his beard and mustache scraping against your skin but you lean into the burn. 

“Let me take y’ home and show you how much I like the tattoo, baby.” he says, panting into your ear when he pulls away. “Would show you right now but the things ‘m dreaming up -”

He cuts himself off with a groan, hands tightening on your body as he bites down on your neck. 

“Want to make y’ feel as good as this makes me feel.” he says lowly and heat flushes through you. You’d give him just about anything.

“Yeah,” you quickly agree, barely getting the word out before he’s claiming your mouth again, hands sliding all over your body, squeezing as they roam. 

“Let’s go home,” he says when he reluctantly pulls away, taking your hands and pulling you off the wall and into his arms. He wraps one arm around your waist, splaying his hand across your belly to hold you against him, low, possessive. 

And if the walk home takes twice as long because he keeps stopping to press you up against the nearby scenery, dragging his lips against your skin until you melt in his hands, so be it. 

You’re right where you want to be. In his arms. Forever. 

---

a/n: lmk what u think! the original request was for a much sexier tattoo placement and lots of smut so i hope this was still alright! just felt right for them. if i wrote the smut this would be like 6k l o l . let me know what u think! love u bye

taglist:@tobesolovelysstuff, @louyoursins, @daydreamingofmatilda, @jojo-blog53, @marzhshaim, @devilsqueen722, @just-happiness-only,@lomlhstyles, @feestyles, @spock4presidnet, @sunshinemoonsposts, @indierockgirrl, @jerseygirlinca, @kissitnhekitchen, @goldnrry,

[pathologicalreid]

the angel of the bottomless pit | s.r.

in which you cope with Spencer's mortality after he's shot in the neck

margovember

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: takes place during the events of 9x23 "angels" and 9x24 "demons", shooting, hospitals, mortality, allusions to Spencer's addiction, jareau!reader, nausea, concussion, refusal of medical treatment word count: 4.55k a/n: a reader insert for my favorite cm finale <3 happy day seven of my migraine

You took a deep breath, standing in a group outside of the restaurant in Briscoe County, the team tried to figure out how to set up a line of communication with Preacher Mills when the first shots were fired.

The blue glow of the police cars provided the only light, and you didn’t see the body coming until it had already flown into you. Someone called your name—JJ—but you couldn’t turn to look at her. You toppled backward, so disoriented from the impact that you couldn’t catch yourself, leaving your head to fly into the passenger door of a car, knocking you out cold.

You came to in the ambulance, just barely enough to feel a searing pain on the back of your head, the kind that made your stomach churn with even the slightest movement. Your eyes opened to nothing more than slits, trying to keep a majority of the light from burning your retinas while you searched for a familiar face. Finally, you caught sight of your sister, hovering over you in the ambulance and tenderly smoothing your hair back.

Parting your lips, you wanted to tell her that your head hurt, but as you allowed time for your eyes to focus, you noticed the way her brows pinched together, the way she looked when she was worried.

Begrudgingly, your nurse had provided you with the proper paperwork for you to leave the hospital room. She tried to insist that you needed to lay down and rest, but you didn’t believe yourself to be physically capable of resting, not after your sister talked to you when you woke up.

Spencer had been shot before, but you’d needed to threaten your sister in order to get her to divulge the gravity of the situation to you. He’d been shot in the neck, and from what you could ascertain, it didn’t look good.

You couldn’t let yourself be stuck in a hospital bed while Spencer was on an operating table, so you flashed your credentials at the nurse and convinced her to bring you the AMA paperwork. JJ left your patient bag with you, so you opted to change into your slightly bloodied clothes and scour the floor for your sister.

It didn’t take long for you to find Blake, and where she was, the rest of the team couldn’t be far behind.

JJ didn’t seem to notice you as she walked into the waiting room, blonde ponytail swinging with purpose as she held her hands out. You couldn’t hear the exchange between the two agents, but you took a few more apprehensive steps and listened to JJ sigh, “Spence would’ve read like two books by now. Or three.”

You chucked softly at the remark, only for the lighthearted joke to fall through when Blake shook her head, “it should’ve been me.”

Spencer and Alex had always had a pseudo-familial relationship with each other, with her acting as a surrogate mother, filling in emotional gaps that his mother had never been able to occupy, let it be because of her schizophrenia or the natural separation that Spencer’s intelligence placed between him and the general population. He’d never really had that before.

Keeping your distance, you watched Blake struggle with the circumstances of the evening, and you held your breath as your sister commiserated, “Or me. Or any of us,” she offered, resting her elbows on her knees.

“No,” Blake said, looking up at your sister with an unreadable expression, “he pushed me out of the way.” Your chest tightened, you weren’t entirely sure if it was the head injury or Blakes revelation that was causing your nausea, “If he doesn’t make it…”

JJ’s head snapped up, “He’ll make it.” You agreed with her sentiments—you had to.

Blake nodded in understanding, comprehending your sister’s need to look on the bright side of the situation, “He has to.” Disbelief was plain on her face, “He’s just—he’s too young.”

“Yeah,” JJ continued, “There’s still things for him to do.” She ran her palms along her jean-covered thighs, and you pulled away from the wall, convincing yourself that now was the best time for you to approach them again. That is, until your sister spoke again, “You know, he wants kids… Can you imagine Spence as a dad?”

Your movements faltered. You could. You thought of Spencer as a dad more often than you cared to admit. Imagining him waltzing around the living room with your son on his hip, humming along to Bob Dylan. Wondering what it would be like to find him with his glasses perched on his nose, reading to your daughter, who would be falling asleep in his lap. You weren’t alone with those thoughts though, sometimes when it was just the two of you, curled up in the darkness of your bedroom together, you pitched potential baby names for a child who had yet to be conceived.

“That’d be the luckiest kid in the world,” Blake said, sniffling slightly as her head tilted at just the right angle and her eyes locked with yours.

JJ nodded slowly, “No doubt,” she spoke as you approached, still oblivious to your presence.

You walked over to them, taking as deep of a breath as you physically could before calling for your sister, “J,” you said, bowing your head to avoid looking directly at the fluorescent lights.

Your shoes tapped lightly on the linoleum floor as your sister stood to greet you, “Ducky?” She said, confusion seeping into her tone, “What happened? What did the doctor say?”

Keeping your head tilted down, you waved off her concern, “I signed AMA papers. Have you heard anything?” You bulldozed right through your sister’s worry, returning to what really mattered—Spencer.

JJ shook her head solemnly, “No, he’s still in surgery.” She sighed, knowing she was giving out disappointing news, “You should still be under observation, come here,” she cupped your chin and studied your eyes, “Sit down.”

You sat in the chair that she had previously inhabited, your cheeks warming as your older sister placed an FBI jacket around your shoulders like you were a kid who had run into the snow without a second thought. She had a certain way of caring for you, her little sister, without making you feel infantilized.

The sound of heels clicking on the floor caught her attention, Penelope leaned forward to embrace your sister, “You made it.”

“Yeah,” Garcia said as if there was nowhere else she’d be, “We’re not the only one that’s connected, and he knows somebody with a plane.” She gestured back to Matt Cruz, who greeted you with a small wave, “How is he?”

Your heart panged at her question, she’d likely hopped on a plane immediately and come to see Spencer, just to find he was still in surgery. You pulled your feet up on the chair, hugging your knees to your chest and resting your chin on a kneecap. There was a very good possibility that you’d be leaving Texas without Spencer at your side, and it sounded like a fate worse than death. Losing him caused you physical pain when you even considered the odds. Being shot in the neck seemed like a concrete death sentence.

An unfamiliar person caught your attention, and you looked up at him in hopes that he had news about your boyfriend, only to be disappointed when he spoke, “You all can see Agent Morgan now.”

Then you felt guilty for being disappointed, Derek had been shot, and you were disappointed that he was well enough to be seen, just because Spencer wasn’t. JJ set a gentle hand on your shoulder, sensing your unease.

Everyone assumed you’d stay and wait, and when JJ checked to see if Blake was going too, Alex shook her head and gestured to the surrounding waiting area, “Well, if you don’t mind, I’d really like to stay here.”

JJ raised her eyebrows and pointed at the both of you, “The second you hear anything, call me.”

“Hey,” Garcia said, kind eyes looking between you and Blake, “I’ll be right back.”

They left you and Alex behind, if someone came out and had news about Spencer, you didn’t want to have to hear it secondhand. Comfortingly, she reached out, set a hand on your shoulder, and squeezed, “How’s your head?”

The double meaning of her question didn’t pass you by even in your concussed state, you sniffled miserably, “Busy.” You let your eyes fall shut, taking a deep breath as she moved to rub small circles on your upper back.

She accepted your answer for what it was, recognizing the fact that your ability to analyze your own emotions was stunted, and understandably so. Blake didn’t push when you quieted down, focusing on keeping your nausea at bay while she waited next to you.

“Agents,” an unfamiliar voice greeted, your eyes opened, and your head snapped up—too fast—and stars danced in your vision as you looked at the doctor in front of you.

Blake took over for you, managing the questions and enabling you to be quiet, you lowered your gaze, staring at the doctor’s sensible shoes as they interrupted the patterns in the linoleum. “How is he?”

“Incredibly lucky,” the doctor answered, and you were going to throw up. “Two millimeters to the right and the bullet would have torn through the carotid artery. It nicked some smaller vessels, but we’ve stopped the bleeding,” you wanted him to stop talking. “You can see him now.”

Spencer hated hospitals; you knew that well enough. He’d expressed his thoughts on hospitals rather emphatically a few weeks ago, and you shuddered at the memory of what you now referred to as The Rabies Case.

He was surrounded. You were perched on a chair next to his hospital bed, facing the marred side of his neck, all of the gore disguised behind a stack of bandages. Blake was across from you, sitting a little further from the bed while Penelope arranged figurines that she’d grabbed from your apartment before catching her flight here.

Maneuvering Spencer’s hand so that it rested in yours, you watched his chest rise and fall with steady breaths, reminding yourself that he was alive while his vital monitor beeped with each beat of his heart. You were worried about what would happen when he woke up, for a while, he’d be fine, but once his anesthesia fully wore off, he’d be in a world of pain.

You added your other hand to the pile, warming his cold fingers as Penelope continued her setup, “It’ll be so great if he wakes up… and this is the first thing he sees.”

Blake smiled fondly at the display on Spencer’s hospital tray, “Yeah, the good doctor will always make him smile.” She was resting her head in her hand, keeping her chin up while she kept an eye on him and, inadvertently, you.

Penelope laughed nervously, “It would be really weird if he wakes up and we’re all just ooh staring at him. So, I’m gonna go stand over here,” she announced, walking over to the window and glancing out of it. Her resolve fell through quickly, turning her head so she could keep an eye on him, even from a distance.

You squeezed his hand, slightly leaning over the bed in order to sweep a few stray hairs from his forehead, freezing when you saw his irises move beneath his eyelids, but sitting back down when he didn’t stir further.

“How’s your head?” Blake asked, minding her volume as she sat back in her chair.

Humming, you laid your head down on Spencer’s bed and closed your eyes, blocking out the fluorescent hospital lights and brushing your thumb over his knuckles, “Fine.”

You rested your chin in one hand, leaving your elbow propped up on the bed while your free hand remained in Spencer’s. Except now, he was holding it back, your fingers intertwined while he spoke with Alex, “When this comes off, I’m gonna look just like Boris Karloff.”

Blake smiled in response, a similar look reflected on your own face, “Yeah, a little green makeup and you’ll have the best Halloween costume ever.”

Your imagination got away from you for just a moment, thinking about Spencer and his proposed Frankenstein costume while he shut his eyes. Looking back at him when everyone went too long without speaking, “Are you okay?” You asked, squeezing his shoulder in an attempt to encourage communication.

“Everybody’s fine,” Blake assured him, “Don’t worry.”

Spencer shook his head almost imperceptibly, “I’m not.”

Tilting your head to the side, you watched him carefully as he kept his eyes closed, probably trying to keep the light from his eyes. “You’ve got that furrowed brow,” Blake observed, cueing you to reach forward and swipe your thumb over the crease on his forehead as if you could dismiss his concerns with just one motion.

He never really answered, interrupted by Garcia returning to the hospital room with a tray in hand, “Hey, hey, hey, look who’s still awake.” She placed the tray in front of Spencer, pushing the figurines out of the way, “Can you tell her she can go now, please?”

Smiling softly at Blake, Spencer’s head bobbed, “I’m okay Alex, go help the team,” he told her, his voice still hoarse from the breathing tube he’d had during surgery. It didn’t seem like he was in a lot of pain yet, but you were keeping a keen eye on him.

“Alright,” Blake said, smiling at the three of you, “I’m out of here.” She placed a hand on the side rail of the hospital bed, “I’m glad you’re awake.”

Spencer tipped his head back, resting it on the pillows that you’d tried to fluff up for him, “Thank you,” he said, watching her leave, returning to the case.

You’d offered your help to Hotch, but you’d done so by jumping up from your chair and almost keeling over in the process, so he told you to stick around here and help Garcia when you could. “Okay,” Garcia took hold of her phone that had previously been resting in the crook of her neck, “Juice, broth, or Jell-O?”

His eyes widened in faux excitement, “Jell-O, my favorite,” he said, reaching out for the spoon and container of orange gelatin, pushing the cup of juice in your direction as he did.

Monitoring his movements, you confirmed your suspicions when you noticed his right eye twitch. He was in pain, and he was putting on a brave face for the two of you. Your head was moving in the direction of a dull throb as opposed to a piercing pain. You knew you couldn’t take his pain away, but you could humor his attempt to take care of you.

Quietly, you took the cup of apple juice in your hands and slowly sipped at it, feeling victorious when Spencer beamed at you.

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep, but, sure enough, at some point you had set your head down on the edge of Spencer’s bed and let your eyes fall shut. It wasn’t a particularly restful sleep, but you were woken up to the sound of a door clicking shut. Lifting your head, you cringed at the stars that danced in your vision.

“Okay,” she said to someone over the phone, seemingly out of breath. “I did that, now what?”

Frowning, you watched as her brown eyes danced around the hospital room, “Penny?” You minded your volume, not wanting to wake Spencer unless it was absolutely necessary, “What’s going on?”

She doesn’t answer your question, eyes locking onto something in the room, “Yes, yes,” she spoke into the phone. “I can do that; I can do that.” Her lips parted in what seemed like surprise, “That is not gonna be easy.”

You cocked your head at her curiously, meaning to walk over to her, but refraining from doing so. You didn’t want to untangle your hand from Spencer’s.

“Oh my god, what?” You were beginning to tire of the one-sided phone conversation, “Okay.”

She hung up the phone and met your gaze, “We have to get him out of here.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, “Uh, have you lost your mind? No.” You were not going to take your boyfriend—who had just been shot in the neck—out of his hospital bed and, presumably, into the wheelchair that Garcia was unfolding.

Quickly, she gives you the reader’s digest version of what’s going on, assuring you that this wouldn’t be the plan unless it was absolutely necessary.

Sighing, you turned your head to Spencer, sleeping peacefully as you squeezed his hand and set your free palm on his shoulder, “Hey, baby,” you whispered, not wanting to startle him. “Spence,” you said gently, watching his eyebrows furrow as you carefully woke him up.

You felt awful, he’d just gone back to sleep after getting his post-op antibiotics, and here you were, waking him up again because the person who shot him in the neck wanted to finish what he’d started. He moved slowly, and you didn’t have the heart to rush him even while there was someone looking to kill him.

Penelope took control, starting to wheel Spencer out while he rubbed at the base of his neck, she stood in the doorway, staring at the fire alarm on the wall and likely calculating how many karma points she’d lose from pulling it.

Sighing, you reached behind her and pulled the alarm yourself, flinching at the loud noise that came as a result. “Fuck,” You cursed, a wave of nausea rolling through you as you set a hand on Penelope’s shoulder, using her as a guide while she wheeled Spencer toward the elevator.

At least once you were outside it was darker, the warm Texas night surrounded the three of you as you watched the hospital personnel frantically try to get everyone to safety. You glanced around at other patients, wheeling their IVs around, worry flooded your chest until you made a full turn, face to face with Spencer again. He was safe.

You crouched down and rested your head on his blanket-covered lap, “Does your head hurt?” He asked you, a hand moving to settle on your shoulder. Normally, he’d smooth down the hair on the back of your head, but he refrained from touching the tender area.

Humming a confirmation, you smiled to yourself as Spencer moved his hands to either side of your head, acting as blinders to prevent any light from bothering your eyes. The two of you made quite a pair, you were sure of it.

Penelope was nervously tapping her heels on the cement, and even though it irritated your headache, you didn’t ask her to stop. The team had an understanding of Garcia, right now she was in a gray area. She didn’t usually travel, and she was worried about Spencer, so you let her tap her heels.

You lost track of how long you were stuck squatting outside of the hospital before the firefighters called the all-clear, allowing people to filter back through the hallways. You lagged behind Penelope as she pushed Spencer through the hospital, “You okay?” She asked him, peeling back the covers of his hospital bed.

“I’m just really tired,” he said, climbing into the bed and smiling at you as you took a seat on the cushioned seat on the other side of the room. You fluffed up a spare pillow and rested your head on it, your eyes hooded with sleep, but you kept them open to watch Spencer settle.

She nodded, helping him pull the covers back over himself, “Of course you are. You need to get some sleep…” her voice trailed off as a nurse entered the room. “Oh, but how can you sleep? ‘Cause you’re in a hospital where people are always poking you.” Penelope watches the nurse with intense curiosity, “He had his meds an hour ago.”

The nurse didn’t falter, “Yeah, post-op antibiotics.”

Poor Spencer just wanted to sleep, but now you were on high alert, slowly getting up from your perch as Penelope said exactly what you were thinking, “Yeah, he had those too.”

You remembered when they came in to do it because you checked the bottle over to make sure Spencer wouldn’t have an allergic reaction to the medication, he turned his head, wincing as his neck rotated, “Which ones? Carbenicillin?” Your stomach lurched, “No, that’s not right. I have a severe reaction to beta lactams. I can’t have that.”

Begrudgingly, the nurse flipped open Spencer’s chart and looked over it, “That’s not in your chart.”

Once the nurse put the syringe in Spencer’s IV, you trudged over to the hospital bed to assess the situation, “What are you doing?” Spencer asked, pulling out his IV before smacking the syringe from the nurse’s hand for good measure.

It wasn’t until the nurse bent over to grab the syringe that you saw it, a gun tucked into the waistband of his scrubs. Shit, where was your gun?

“Garcia, he has a gun,” Spencer said, leaning back into the pillows as Penelope produced Spencer’s revolver from his patient bag.

Her hands trembled as she held the gun out, and instinctively, you took the gun from her hands and fired the shot, your head immediately dropping to the sheets of the bed as a high-pitched squeal flooded your senses. “Oh my god, I’m gonna throw up,” you groaned, picking a spot to stare at in hopes that the world would stop spinning.

You felt someone’s hands on yours as they removed the gun from your hands, people were running into the room, likely to provide medical care to the man you had just shot. “My ears don’t pop for like a week after I fly,” Penelope started to ramble. “If this is like that, that’s gonna drive me bonkers. Am I yelling? Because it feels like I might be yelling.”

“Yes,” you answered her question, she was yelling, and it wasn’t helping the ringing in your ears, which left Spencer to console her.

She took a deep breath and set a hand on your back, “Okay. You’re okay. It’s okay.”

The jet was crowded enough without you taking up another seat. Instead, you opted to sit next to Spencer, taking a spot on the floor as he slept. You wanted to keep an eye on him, the soft whistles from his nose as he exhaled brought you immense comfort. Your eyes followed Penelope as she looked around for somewhere to sit.

JJ walked out of the galley, stopping next to you to hand you a water bottle and smooth your hair back. She smiled at you before making her way back to her seat.

You turned your attention back to Spencer, leaning the side of your head against the wall and reaching out to tuck his blanket around him.

Blake had offered to drive the two of you home, allowing you to take the back seat of the car, using the surrounding seats to block the streetlights from your view. The car was completely silent the entire way to the district, and you don’t get home until it’s pitch-black outside, the warm lamplight reflecting off of puddles from the spring rain.

You’d excused yourself to retreat into the bedroom, leaving the two of them in the living room. Something had been bothering Blake, and you wanted to give them time to talk, coming back after you heard the front door close.

Returning to the living room, you found Spencer standing by the window, likely watching Alex catch a cab. You timidly put your hands behind your back, “Hey,” you said softly, getting his attention.

Spencer turned around, smiling softly as his brown eyes studied you, now in your pajamas, standing in front of him, “Hi, lovely.” He stepped over to you, “How are you feeling?”

The flight had done terrible things to your head, the changes in pressure resulting in you hurling into the jet bathroom. You hummed, wrapping your arms around his torso, “Just… don’t make any sudden movements,” you said softly, practically melting into him as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed a soft kiss to the crown of your head. “How’s your neck?”

“Fine, a bit stiff” he answered, blatantly lying to you. For tonight, you’d allow it. Tomorrow, you’d get on him about how he actually felt. He herded you to bed, giving you a place to lay down as he peeled off his own clothes, refraining from taking off his undershirt and choosing to sleep in it.

Your chest ached as you shifted to rest your head on his chest, reveling in the closeness that you felt to him, your ulterior motive being an insatiable need to hear his heart beating. It wasn’t enough for you to hear his breathing or the warmth of his body beneath you, you needed to hear the blood pump through him.

This time last night, you had no idea if you’d ever be able to talk to him again, which you suppose explained the next words that come out of your mouth, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he answered softly, his fingertips tracing shapes along your spine as his breathing slowed and he relaxed into the mattress.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you take a deep breath, “I want to go first.”

Spencer’s movements faltered, his palm flattening against your upper back, “What are you talking about?”

Tears pricked your eyes, and you found yourself grateful for the pain medication your sister had you take just in case. “You’re not allowed to die before me, Spencer. I want to go first.”

“Come here,” He said, pulling you up slightly on the bed and wrapping his arms firmly around you.

Realistically, you knew there was an unfathomable level of unpredictability when it came to human mortality, especially in your line of work, but you couldn’t stop yourself from remembering how horrified you had been when you woke up and JJ told you Spencer was in surgery. You couldn’t stop yourself from recognizing the fact that a world without Spencer Reid was not a world you wanted to be in.

Your thoughts were in hyperdrive, being steered by emotions that you had kept bottled for the last twenty-four hours, and Spencer recognized that. “No one’s dying, honey,” he said, rubbing your back soothingly as tears leaked from your eyes, dripping onto the cotton of his t-shirt.

“Spence,” you whispered, a weak scold. He had almost died. There was no getting around that.

He shushed you, “I know,” he murmured, “I know, but we’re fine.” He took a few, slow breaths, hoping you would follow along. “You can go first, if that’s what you want,” he acquiesced, “but not for a long time, okay?”

Nodding slowly, you moved your head to rest your chin on his chest, “Okay,” you breathed, watching his expression in the curtain-diffused moonlight.

“We still have things to do,” he reminded you, reminiscent of the conversation you’d walked in on JJ and Blake having at the hospital.

He was right.

[goldfades]

shower sex with luke hughes help

✮ 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, lh⁴³

♡ ─ word count | 1k

♡ ─ warnings | NSFW under the cut! unedited (no one is surprised) unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it kids), p in v action, pretty vanilla lol, jack being a cockblock HA

♡ ─ taglist | @dancerbailey3 @valluvsu @daisysnhl @dasiysthings @iminlovewithtz11 @literatureluster @lvrzegras @lxvleyzoe @bowen-power @ru-kru @jackhughesily @hearts-for-luke

♡ ─ ev's notes | i haven't written a full blown smut in a while i hope i'm still good at it LMAO, hope y'all will enjoy!!! also requests are open so PLEASE SEND THEM IN! ya girl is trying to get out of a really bad writing rut rn :((

The warm water was rolling down the curves of your body as you relaxed, feeling all the stress from the week running down the drain with the water. Your fingers worked themselves into your scalp as you washed your hair with your coconut scented shampoo, washing it thoroughly.

You were too engrossed with washing your hair, you didn't hear the bathroom door open and close swiftly. You heard the glass bathroom door open and quickly turned around to face your boyfriend, who had invited himself into the shower.

"Hey," Luke spoke casually as his racked down your body, not even trying to hide his smirk. His eyes took in every curve of your body, feeling his face warm up in the process. "How was your day?"

You laughed at how casual he was acting, despite being in the shower. But you didn't really care, you had missed him. "Busy. How was yours?"

"Stressful?"

You nodded, sighing.

"Maybe I can help with that?" He answered smoothly, the smirk evident in his expression as you laughed. He looked down at you, his eyes focusing on you and your body. Despite your bashful expression, you couldn't help but feel your stomach twist in desire as you gazed up at your boyfriend.

It had been a while since you two had sex with your busy schedules, the only downside to being adults. And you weren't busy, Jack was always around being a cockblock, which both of you hated.

"I'd love that," you answered, breathlessly as he smirked down at you. He instantly leaned down and gave you a soft kiss, taking your face in his hand. The kiss was gentle but very needy but it escalated into a sloppy make-out session as the water dripped down both your bodies.

Luke's hands wandered further down, clasping your neck in an attempt to bring you closer. You let out a moan into the kiss as he pushed you against the tile, taking control of the kiss.

"Been thinking about you all day, Y/N." Luke's lips traveled down to your chin and then to your neck, planting harsh kisses everywhere. Your eyes shut in pleasure, as you let him touch you. "Couldn't focus because of you, princess. All 'cus of you."

Your mind had turned into mush the moment he started sucking on your sensitive spot on your neck, a nasty moan coming out of your mouth. All you could think of was Luke, Luke, Luke.

His hands then grabbed your hips, pushing them closer to his. Your arms naturally crossed around his shoulders as he came up to give you a rough kiss, his hands bruising on your hips.

The water was still running as he pulled your legs up, crossing at his hips. "I missed you so much, baby."

"Missed you too." You responded breathlessly as he pulled you into another kiss. One of his hands travelled down to your soaking cunt, his fingers teasing.

Your back arched against the tile as he kept touching your cunt, but careful not to enter. He was teasing and both of you knew it, you hated it. "Fuck Luke, come on."

"What? I wanna take my time with you baby, is that such a crime?" He spoke and you could feel his smirk against your neck as he kept playing with cunt.

You whined as he kept leaving teasing touches on your cunt before he finally entered one long, slim finger in you. Your whole body jolted at that, clenching around his finger. He kept it there for a few seconds before he began thrusting it in and out, slowly.

"Luke, please." You whined, his pace was slow and excruciating, you hated it.

"Please what?"

You hated when he did this, but you knew it made the O better. "Just fuck me, Luke."

He let out a laugh before he stopped completely, taking his finger out of your sticky core. Before you could complain, you felt him push in his tip inside your cunt slowly. Your back arched in response, your head falling back on tile from the pleasure. He was only a quarter in and you felt so full, he was so big.

He stretched you out so well, you felt like your head was in the clouds. As he bottomed you out, you felt like your whole body was on fire. You loved how well he filled you up, it was like he was made for you.

Your arms hung off Luke's shoulders as his hands were still holding on to your hips as he began thrusting in and out of you, slowly at first. But you knew that pace wouldn't last. Before you knew it, Luke was fucking you into the wall as you held onto to his shoulders for dear life.

"Luke!" you cried out as he kept his pace brutal and quick, just like you liked. His head fell on your forehead as he kept pounding into you, your whole body shaking with each thrust.

You felt the familiar burning sensation in your lower stomach as he kept his pace and you knew you were close. Your walls clenched around Luke's cock, he moaned at that. You were so tight and so warm, he loved how you felt.

He moved one hand from your hip and went down to your clit, rubbing the nub as he kept fucking into you. Both sensations made you cry out in utter pleasure, your whole body began twitching. The knot was getting tighter and tighter and finally, it snapped. Your moan echoed throughout the bathroom, your vision blurring momentarily as Luke chased his own high. His hips snapped against yours roughly, fucking you through your orgasm.

And before you knew it, he was spilling his seed into you. You both breathed heavily, trying to regain your composure after that. But before neither of you could say anything, you heard some knocking on the door.

"Could you guys fuck quieter please, I'm trying to take a nap." Jack's voice was muffled on the other side of the door as he spoke. Luke immediately let out an agitated sigh.

"Jesus Christ." Luke mumbled before he continued, "Whatever dude, go back to sleep."

"Are you guys using protection or am I gonna be an uncle soon?" Jack teased before you and Luke let out annoyed groans.

"Go back to bed!" You both shouted in union.

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[megwritesriddles]

Tied to You ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Young! Severus Snape x Fem! Reader / You

Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 14 - Praise & Bondage. Severus has a girlfriend and he's about as shocked as anyone about it. She brings something out in him, something loving, something experimental, but also something slightly more sinister.

Tags: Praise kink, Light bondage, Fingering, Dom!Severus, Lots of praise, Good girl, Reader is referred to as a girl a LOT, Established relationship (kinda?), Getting together, Fluff, Red flags, Possessive behaviour, Unhealthy/Toxic relationship dynamic forming, Ambiguous ending (kinda).

Word count: 3.6k

Read it on ao3! | Masterlist

Authors note: I can't write Severus as anything other than at least a bit of a creepy little freak, even though this is mostly normal and fluffy!! Again this includes a lot of unnecessary backstory to set the scene!! Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Being in a relationship was a very novel concept to Severus. It wasn’t something he’d ever really thought would happen to him until recently. Sure, he’d daydreamed about it throughout his life to various degrees, but he’d always resigned himself to the fact that daydreams would be the closest he would get. However, you were very real. He’d known of you since the first year, being in his same year group he was bound to have heard your name a few times, whether on registers or from overheard gossip at the Slytherin table. 

He’d never thought of you very much at all until the sixth year when you were in the same advanced potions class as him. The class was much smaller than in previous years, full of only the highest achievers in the subject in the O.W.L.s and this is where he noticed you. You were on the quieter side in class, but whenever you were called on, you gave the correct answers. You were obviously intelligent, especially at this subject, which intrigued him as a bit of a ‘swot’ as his few friends called him. He liked that you cared about studying, much more than most of your peers seemed to. It was also quite obvious even by a glance that you were a pretty girl. Once he’d started paying a little more attention to you, he’d overheard many unsavoury comments about you by his peers, about what they might like to do to you. But, you kept yourself to yourself, frequently kindly (but firmly) turning down boys who tried to flirt with you. He admired that you weren’t above a little threat against the boys who couldn’t hear the word ‘no’. Despite your withdrawn nature, you were well known as a member of the duelling club, a high achieving one at that, and so often were able to threaten the boys into backing off.

All sixth year he’d silently admired you. When the seventh year began, he told himself he’d let go of it and focus solely on his studies, but he’d never been less focused in his life. All the feelings he’d harboured for Lily for so long latched themselves onto you, becoming much larger and more consuming. They felt like a frightening entity on their own, following him around everywhere he went, trying to pounce on you whenever you’d make small talk with him before class in the corridor, or seek him out for advice on your potions homework, even though you always seemed to actually know what you were talking about. He should have realised something was odd about this, but he was too blinded by self-hatred to see the woods from the trees. So when you confessed to having feelings for him, he’d initially just sat and stared silently at you.

You’d caught him in the library, as you had taken to doing often lately and asked to sit. He’d agreed, expecting another odd question about the homework but instead, you’d sat there chewing your lip. His eyes had strayed down to the sight a few too many times, no matter how he tried to control himself. He watched as the corners of your lips tugged up a little. 

“I have a crush on you, Severus,” you’d admitted with a shaky breath. He’d just blinked at you. “Well… crush sounds so juvenile… I fancy you? I have… feelings for you?” you continued on. “I just figured I ought to say something before it’s too late, you know?”

And that’s how he’d ended up in a relationship with you. He was so shocked at the time that he can't even remember what he’d said to you in response, and it was too late to ask. Whatever it was, it had clearly worked, as you had pulled him into a hug and kissed his cheek and the next weekend, he was waiting for you at the Three Broomsticks. By the end of that evening, you’d been sitting in his lap and kissing him with a passion he had never even seen, let alone felt for himself, his arms around your waist, touching you gingerly. 

The entire school was baffled by your relationship. His friends and even several strangers asked him how the hell he had managed to ensnare you and he had no answer for any of them even if he wanted to, he couldn’t understand it either. One day he believes he will never be in a relationship in his life, and the next, the most beautiful girl in all of Hogwarts is hanging off of his arm for all to see. He’s surprised how unashamed you are, not only to be dating him but with public displays of affection. You always hook your arm around his as you walk, kiss his cheek as a goodbye, sit in his lap in the library and sneak his hand up your thigh. Sex. That’s the part of all this that seems the craziest to him because all of a sudden he has an active sex life. You’re all over him, and as much as it makes his head spin, he’s always willing to indulge you. 

The first time you’d brought him into your dorm, he hadn’t known what was going on until you were stripping him down. Of course, you’d asked him several times if you could proceed, but he had just blindly agreed because he would let you do anything. He hadn’t told you he was a virgin until after you were done, even though he knew you knew, if from nothing else, from his very speedy performance. You’d been very sweet about it, as you were about everything, and snuggled up to him, falling asleep in his arms. No one had ever felt so safe around him before. He wanted desperately to keep you in his arms forever, and when you got up in the morning, he almost held you hostage but ended up playing it off as a joke. You’d just giggled at him and told him he’d be the cutest captor in the world, which he laughed off, but the thought crossed his mind.

He was having the most sex out of everyone in his dorm, which would have been completely unfathomable only a few months ago. It surprised him how voracious you were, you’d always seemed rather meek, yet you were dragging him away at least once a day if not more. It was a surprise that he loved. You’d created a monster, a monster that constantly loomed over his time with you. He wasn’t sure how he would ever cope if this relationship ended, not only emotionally, but also having gotten used to such frequent sexual activity. There was hardly anyone else who would ever be willing to indulge him, and you loved to, which made it a thousand times better. He felt desirable to you, a feeling he’d been inadvertently chasing his entire life. He was never going to let you go. Ever. 

You didn’t seem to realise how serious he was when he told you as such. You’d giggle and peck his cheeks and tell him in a sweet little voice that you’d never let him go either, but he knew you didn’t mean it quite like he did. You enjoyed his possessive streak, loving the way his arm would slip around you when a boy would stare, marking you all over as his. As baffling as it was to everyone, there was no confusion about the fact you were taken, constantly covered in little lovebites, his hands on you whenever they could be. He’d adjust your skirts and button up your tops, softly whispering how this skin was for his eyes only now. As he gained more confidence in public displays of affection with you, he’d grip your thigh in a possessive gesture under the table, and kiss at your neck in front of others, a reminder of who left those marks there. 

Severus was always up for anything that you recommended in the bedroom, surprisingly experimental despite his rigid routines during the day. You played around often, trying new things, different dynamics, different positions, and introducing various aids. As time went on, you could tell he was coming into himself as a more dominant presence, his initial nerves and shyness wearing off as he got used to you and the idea that you truly did like him and desired him. You were happy to submit to him and let yourself go with whatever he wanted from you. Every part of him was long and lithe and elegant, exploring parts of you that had never been touched before, deep within you. He loved to watch you come undone, taking immense satisfaction in the knowledge of his effects on you, effects he thought he’d never have on anyone. He worships you in the most sinful ways, and you worship him in return. Your roommates all hate the both of you, no matter how many silencing charms you cast. 

You’re a little anxious when Severus heads to Hogsmeade alone one weekend, no matter how much he insists he’s only buying you a present. You’ve barely been apart for more than classes since your relationship began, and while you doubt he’s off cheating on you, the distance still makes you unreasonably anxious. You pounce on him when he returns, telling him how much you missed him, not spotting his smug smile against your shoulder. He rubs your back and assures you he felt similarly while he was away, which he did, he’d been desperate to get back to you, for many reasons. He gives you a little box, housing a little silver necklace that he’d gone to fetch from Hogsmeade for you. It has a little ‘S’ as the pendant, his initial, another means with which to stake claim over you. He clasps it behind your neck and you’re all smiles as you declare how much you love it. Then you notice another little bag.

“Is that for your other girlfriend?” you joke, pouting a little. He laughs, kissing your cheek. 

“No, it’s for you my love, but we have to be alone for me to show you,” he guides you up to his dorm which is currently empty, most of his dormmates now avoid the space whenever they can because of the two of you. He brings you to his bed to sit in his lap and closes the curtains around you. You giggle, fascinated to see what he’s got, already making a few mental guesses. 

Although it hadn’t popped into your head as a guess, the small spool of rope makes sense as he pulls it from the bag. He explains that it’s a soft cotton material that is both sturdy and comfortable. He doesn’t have to tell you what it’s for, you already know, and you’re willing to give it a go, the idea already exciting you a little. He can tell from the way you begin to rub your thighs together slightly. He’s become fluent in your body language over the course of your relationship, by now he’s sure he could write the dictionary. He grins at you.

“So sweet already getting all excited,” he whispers, his voice deep and silky. You love the authoritative tone he uses to speak to you when he wants to be in charge like this, it makes your thighs clench even more. “Now come on, my love, how would you like your hands tied?” he enquires softly, rubbing a hand over your thigh. After a short period of deliberation between the two of you, he lies you down against the bed and starts slowly popping open the buttons of your shirt one by one, making his way down to untuck it from your skirt. He pushes the shirt open and down, palms smoothing over your bare shoulders. You sit up for a moment to let the shirt fall away completely and so that he can reach around you to unhook your bra more easily. Once he’s pulled the bra away from you, you lie back down. “Good girl, my beautiful girl,” he praises, gently folding your shirt up and placing it onto the ground, then setting your bra on top of it. He taps your hips, urging you to lift them, gently sliding down your skirt, followed by your underwear. His need for you is mounting, folding these items a little more haphazardly before he places them on the ground by the others. He gently holds your legs apart, rubbing a hand up and down your thighs. “You like the idea of being tied up for me?” he chuckles, seeing you already glistening with want. You nod and he hums. “Aren’t you just perfect? My perfect girl,” he coos, leaning down to pepper kisses on your stomach for a moment before sitting back up. You watch him eagerly, yearning for him to give you what you want. He takes a gentle hold of your wrists and lifts them over your head, reaching for the length of rope. “Is this alright? Your arms aren’t stretching too much?”

“No, it’s fine,” you assure, watching as he starts carefully threading the rope around your wrists in figure-eights. 

“I read up on how to do this, let’s hope I get it on the first try,” he smiles down at you. You giggle in return. He fusses for a little while, adjusting and readjusting so it’s not too tight, but that you can’t slip out of the restraints either. You’re sure he’s being a perfectionist about it like he is about most things, so you wait patiently. Once he’s happy, he sits back and looks at you, in all your naked glory, lying there tied up and waiting for him. He shivers and groans. “Merlin… You look like an angel, my beautiful perfect girl,” he leans down and leaves open-mouthed kisses along your neck, reinforcing several fading hickies he’s left on you before. You moan softly and squirm beneath him, pulling at your restraints without meaning to, feeling the need to touch him. You’re surprised how quickly you feel the need to use your hands and he just smirks at you. “Be good for me and don’t fight your restraints, won’t you?” he murmurs. You nod weakly, ceasing your movements and taking a deep breath, forcing yourself to relax as his lips and hands explore your body at a torturous pace. His lips kiss patterns around and between your breasts slowly, leaving a litany of little marks behind to mark his territory, his hands slowly sliding up and down your hips and waist. “Your body is absolutely exquisite, I don’t tell you that enough, my love, sculpted by the gods, all for me,” he mutters against your skin, sucking another lovebite into the side of your breast. The praise flusters you, part of you wants to argue, but you adore the idea of him truly seeing you that way, and you believe he does. He continues to press deliberate kisses across your chest, his eyes shut in prayer. His hands brush your stomach, teasing you by skimming low and withdrawing. You sigh needily and feel him nip your skin in response. “Tell me what you want,” he orders softly.

“I want your fingers inside me,” you answer breathily, writhing a little but making sure to keep your hands still. You feel him smile and nip the skin of your sternum, by your fluttering heart. 

“That’s my girl, always so direct,” he chuckles, sitting up and spreading your legs once more. He gasps softly. “Oh… you must really be liking being at my mercy, hm? Dripping wet for me,” he smiles, rubbing the soft skin of your inner thigh. His genuine smile is a rarity, he’s usually so stoic and serious, that the sight of it makes you whimper for him. Oh, how crazy he drives you. “Shhh, wait like a good girl, I know you can wait, you’re more than capable,” you pout up at him and he smiles again.“Those perfect pouty lips,” he leans down and gives you a soft sensual kiss, his fingertips tracing patterns up your thigh as he kisses you. You want to wrap your arms around him, to slide your hand in his trousers, but instead, you pull pathetically at your ropes for a moment before giving up and focusing on kissing him. His fingers nudge gently at your folds, making you spread your legs further eagerly. The tip of his index finger slides up and down between your folds, gathering wetness and using it to help circle your sensitive nub. You whine softly against his lips. “Good girl, you sound so beautiful when I make you feel good,” he praises. He leisurely slides a finger into you, which you accommodate easily due to your high state of arousal. His lithe fingers reach places you’d never even realised you’d had before your relationship with him, gently stimulating the tender spongy spot within you that makes your hips buck. He adds another finger, making you gasp and moan softly. He strokes your walls for a moment, letting you adjust to the stretch, which doesn’t take too long in the state you’re in. You stare up into his eyes, silently begging him to move his fingers, he grins back at you, his nose bumping yours affectionately. “What is it, my love?” you whine at his playful innocence, he gets like this sometimes, all smug and teasing, a monster that you had created.

“M-move them, please,” you pant, tugging uselessly at your restraints. He gives you a pointed look and you stop. 

“Okay, but you have to keep being good for me, I know you can,” he kisses the corner of your mouth, slowly withdrawing his fingers and pressing them back in. You mewl softly, digging your heels into the plush mattress. His fingers move slowly and expertly from months of memorising your body, pushing up against that tender spot with each thrust. The room fills with vulgar wet sounds and Severus finally thinks to cast a silencing spell with his free hand. You blush, both at the realisation you hadn’t been silenced, but also at the nonchalant way he does magic while moving his fingers inside you. It’s oddly hot and he feels you fluttering around his fingers. “What is it, sweet girl? What made you throb?” he enquires, kissing your jaw. You giggle breathlessly, his fingers still working you.

“Just you,”

“I’m flattered, my love,” he purrs. “You’re so perfect for me, aren’t you? My dream girl, my perfect girl,” he mumbles between kisses against your skin, his fingers speeding up, making you whimper and squirm. He sits up, his movements never ceasing, to look over you. Your hands tied sends a possessive thrill through him, the more innocent thought that you trust him like this, and the more dangerous idea to keep you like this. “Look at you,” he hums. “You look divine, all flushed and needy for me,” he punctuates his sentence by beginning to circle his thumb over your sensitive bundle of nerves. You choke out a moan, your eyes closing for a moment. “You’re doing so well, my love, good girl, you must be getting close,”

“Y-yeah,” you moan, your back arching slightly.

“You always look so beautiful when you come,” he muses, intensifying his movements. Your moans pick up, louder and more frequent, your hands tensing and untensing in the restraints, wishing to grab onto something but unable to do anything but dig your nails into your palms. “That’s it, let yourself go, be a good girl for me like I know you are,” he coaxes. “Let me feel you come on my fingers, let me feel your pussy clench,” you gasp at his lewd words, your head growing fuzzier. It only takes a few more moments and you fall apart, your whole body shivering and going warm. You cry out his name in desperation, nails digging into your palms, back arching up off of the bed. He keeps going relentlessly, feeling you clenching around his fingers, driving you to the point of near insanity, wailing in pleasure before he finally slows down his ministrations. “You were so good, my love, so beautiful, I’m so proud of you,” he leans down, kissing across your chest once more, slowly withdrawing his fingers. You whine softly, your chest heaving under his lips as you struggle to regain your breath, your heart pounding under your skin. “That’s it, calm down for me,” he soothes, kissing up to your mouth and pressing a lingering kiss to your parted lips. “How was that?”

“Yeah, good, very good,” you laugh breathlessly. He caresses your cheek, nuzzling your nose with his own.

“Did being tied up make it better?”

“In some ways, it felt more intense, more submissive than I usually am, but I did miss touching you,” you explain quietly. He nods along in understanding. “But I’ll happily do it again, I just need some recovery time,” you smile sheepishly, and he kisses your cheek. 

“I understand, my love, you’ve been a very good girl, no more tonight, my perfect girl must be tired,” he hums. He leans up and loosens your restraints, placing placating kisses on your wrists where the rope had been rubbing slightly, but he doesn’t entirely remove the rope, just gently massaging your wrists with his thumbs for a moment.

“Are you going to untie me?” you ask playfully. He pauses for a moment, thinking, before fiddling with the rope again. He secures your wrists to the headboard of his bed, making you furrow your brows in confusion. “You said no more tonight,”

“I know, my love, and I stick to it, but I think I’ll keep you here anyway,”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

xoxoxo

[kurooh]

☆ fluff, with mha spoilers about hawks’ fate (ch. 385&426)

“c’mon, stay still, keigo,” you remind him softly, adjusting the angle of his head with a hand at his chin. “i’m not gonna poke your eye out, don’t worry.”

“it looks really . . pointed,” keigo replies, eyeing the tip of the eyeliner pen cautiously. “and anyway, how’re your hands not shaking that bad?”

“practice,” you shrug, “but your talking is breaking up my concentration, y’know.”

“okay, okay,” he zips his lips and pretends to toss a key over his shoulder. you simply shake your head at keigo’s antics, bringing the tip of the pen to his eye again. this time, he manages to control his flinch enough to not mess up the wing you’re drawing.

keigo had been born with his birdlike quirk, fierce wings, which came along with many other avian characteristics. his astute, piercing golden eyes were a good example of what came along with his quirk. more interestingly, his eyes had always had dark markings around them—sharp lines and wings to further add to his birdlike appearance.

since losing his quirk to all for one on that vile day, in a battle that should’ve been won, keigo lost most of those odd little characteristics, the markings around his eyes being one of them. (of course, he never lost his penchant for fried chicken.) now, as the president of the hero public safety commission, he’s tasked with talking to all kinds of different heroes who certainly know who he used to be.

“you okay, kei? i’m gonna move onto the next eye, baby,” you whisper, so as not to startle him when he’s already gotten this relaxed. he nods, lost in thought.

not long after getting the job, keigo rushed to tell you the excellent news, and ask a simple request of you. he’d looked at you with his striking eyes, the skin around them empty and bare.

“so, y’know the marks i had around my eyes? the black birdie ones?” keigo seriously described it to you as if you’d never seen them a day in your life.

“of course, kei. why . . ?”

“so, i’ve gotta go into work and talk to people every day. i’m still hawks, the cool cool cool retired number two prohero, just without the wings and eye makeup.” his voice drifted off as he patted around behind him, momentarily expecting to be met with the softness of his downy vermillion feathers.

you nodded silently, heart squeezing sadly for him. he chuckled awkwardly and cleared his throat, “anyway, i’d like you to do the eyeliner for me each day. i know, i know, it’s kinda ridiculous, but it would really mean a lot to me.”

keigo looks back wistfully, turning the memory over in his head a few times while you color in the wing and prepare to add the detail to his inner corner, all from memory. as the tip of the pen strokes over the delicate skin, he loosens up more, letting you nudge his face left and right without that nervous stiffness from before.

he notices the way your brows knit in concentration, the tight grip you’ve got on the eyeliner pen, and the lightness in which you use it on him. it’s ridiculous how something so small can mean this much—warmth rises to his cheeks and colors them something rosy.

“and . . done!” you exclaim, stepping back to admire your handiwork. “kei, you’ll love this.”

“lemme see the mirror, dovey,” keigo chuckles happily, gesturing for you to step to the side. as he stares into his reflection in the vanity, he can see red feathers surrounding his shoulders and the space behind them. a squint of his eyes has them fading away, and he clears his throat shakily to focus on the makeup.

behind him, you rest your hands on his shoulders, rubbing them soothingly as though you know what he’s thinking. the black makeup around his eyes and in the inner corners looks natural, complimenting his face perfectly. you’d managed to pull something this accurate off, just from memory—keigo sniffles, rising to his feet from the chair. he envelops you in a strong hug, tucking his face into your neck carefully so as not to smear your work.

“you did such a great job, dovey,” keigo whispers into your skin, fingers squeezing you. “i can’t wait for you to do this for me every morning.”

“really?” you ask, swaying a little with him in your arms. “my makeup skills are that good?”

“of course they are!” he exclaims, “but seriously though, thank you. i felt naked without the eyeliner.”

your cheeks warm and you giggle; keigo’s heart flutters with adoration, no longer grounded. he doesn’t want to let you go just yet, but he steps back curiously, fiddling around with the eyeliner pen. you gasp accusingly—he’d swiped it from you without letting you notice.

he flashes you a silly smile, dangling the pen from his fingertips with mirth sparkling in his gold eyes. “hey, mind if i try on you? we can match!”