#alright but kinda stressful too and the one before that was [same] and one before that [same] and before that they’d be pretty heinous so.

[noxtivagus]

damn it's been a while since i've been on tumblr

[darkmatilda]

𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: spencer had heard rumors that a few female students secretly had a crush on him, but he always dismissed it as a joke and never intended to engage in any kind of relationship with them. that is, until a certain bright and quiet one caught his attention.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: professor reid x student!female reader, spence's pov only, uni looks like a f1ucking hogwart just for the vibe, reader having some daddy issues and revealing some past experiences, father's death anniversary, trauma dumping actually but it's not a self-insert story i just really got into it lol, age gap, fingering, insane sexual tension during their convos, kinda socially awkward reader who's also an irony queen from time to time, talking, lots of talking blah blah

𝐚/𝐧: a special dedication to my beloved girlies who feel that if they ever crossed paths with spencer reid they’d be too stupid to talk to him. it's also a request i got from one of you <3 hope you'll enjoy it

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 8.9k

Dr. Reid didn’t notice her right away.

Alright, fine. Dr. Reid did notice her. His analytical mind placed great importance on everything happening around him. He observed the faces of his students, instantly committing their names to memory—he wanted to know who attended his lectures. A more accurate statement would be that, at first, he didn’t pay her any special attention.

She struck him as quiet. And she was quiet. Silent and observant—that was the impression he had of her. When he formed that opinion, he wasn’t thinking about her yet. While reading, he didn’t wonder whether the book he had chosen would appeal to her, nor did he consider which aspects of it might draw her into the depths of discussion, making her usually tightly pressed lips come alive with unceasing words. Arriving at the university with a briefcase in hand, his coat tightly wrapped around him, he didn’t fixate on the ever-thickening layer of snow or brush its delicate flakes from his hair. His mind was entirely absorbed by thoughts of whether her clothing was suited to the weather and if she might be cold. Most importantly, when he formed that opinion, his gaze, upon entering the lecture hall, didn’t immediately begin searching for her face—unassuming and half-hidden among the others—before he’d even greeted the rest of the students.

Because when he formed that opinion, she was just a student, like all the others.

His lectures with her group were held twice a week, at a time when everything outside the window slowly began to gray, and they usually ended with a sense of relief for all the students, as another day of study came to a close. Reid always stayed a moment longer in the room, ready to answer any lingering questions or offer help with any issues. These questions often repeated. Sometimes, when he felt particularly tired, he didn’t have to exert much effort in his responses. That didn’t mean, of course, that he was ignorant. It was simply that his lips seemed to know the right words; he didn’t need to fully wake up or concentrate.

It was the same that late November afternoon. She approached slowly, almost shyly, to his desk, waiting for the moment when everyone else would finally disappear through the door. As if she were embarrassed that her question might reach unwanted ears. He lifted his gaze to her, immediately noticing her retreat and uncertainty, and smiled gently, encouragingly, to embolden her. And the question she asked had the effect of caffeine injected directly into his veins.

His brain immediately sprang into action, so absorbed and genuinely intrigued. Surprised, even. He answered her question, of course, but when he felt the penetrating, eager gaze of her eyes on him, he couldn’t shake the feeling that everything he said was inadequate and couldn’t satisfy her curiosity. He even became somewhat stressed and lost his train of thought. A slight hint of amusement stretched her lips, but, luckily for him, she ignored it, sparing him any embarrassment. They discussed a topic unusually connected to the lecture, and he hadn’t felt so intellectually engaged in a long time, though it lasted only a quarter of an hour. Afterward, she disappeared through the door like everyone else, thanking him for the answer before she left.

He didn’t hide the fact that his thoughts returned to that conversation. And when, after another lecture, she approached him again in that same characteristic manner, he hoped she would pick up where they left off. That they would continue their discussion exactly at that interrupted point. But her question was about something else, something equally fascinating, and at that moment, in that instant, he completely erased everything from his mind that had come before, fully absorbed in what they were now discussing.

Slowly, it all stopped being solely about criminology lectures and started touching on every possible tangent, from literature to more mundane matters, like current events at the university. But no matter what they were talking about, he approached it with the same level of engagement. He was pleased that it had become their little ritual.

Being, let’s not shy away from the word, a genius, meant that it was hard for him to find someone on the same intellectual level. And he didn’t say this with disdain for others, absolutely not. Spencer always enjoyed those little chats with others, truly cherished the time spent with his close ones. He just sometimes needed that kind of intellectual stimulation.

With the second week of December, something changed.

It was probably something about her general mood. Well, this month was often exceptionally depressing for a large portion of the population, but it didn’t seem like that was the issue. She had once mentioned to him that she really valued winter.

 “Really?” he asked then, resting one hand on the desk. Usually, their conversations followed the typical, unspoken arrangement of their bodies in relation to each other. He, more relaxed, often prone to gestures, and she, much less expressive. Her hip didn’t tilt to either side, she maintained a straight posture, and liked to hold something in her hands—like a notebook. When she had nothing, her fingers gently brushed the edge of the desk. Spencer couldn’t help but constantly lower his gaze to her hands and analyze their subtle movements. When he spoke, they remained still, frozen in focus. When she spoke, they would move in fluid, wave-like motions to the sides. He tried not to stare too much, as he was sure that if she caught him, she’d stop. But he liked those moments of uncontrolled naturalness in her. “What do you like about it so much?”

Her facial expressions were fascinating. Complex, like the world depicted in some novel. At the same time, difficult to decipher; sometimes, he had to guess what some small gestures meant. She blinked rarely, and when she did it more often than usual, it seemed to substitute for a shrug or uncertainty.

“I think it’s mostly how short the days are. When one of them turns out to be a failure, you don’t have to wait long until the new one begins.”

“When a day feels like a failure, you don’t have to write it off completely. Maybe sometimes it’s worth trying to fix it, at any moment you find yourself in.”

“That’s very wise advice, professor. But not for me,” she scoffed. “When something goes wrong, I’d rather start over right away than linger in that bad streak. Even when I make a mistake while taking notes, I...”

“You tear the page out and start writing on a clean one,” he blurted out the end of the sentence, his back straightening slightly when he realized he had said it out loud.

He had noticed how she did that, not once or twice. However, he was slightly embarrassed by the fact that he had admitted to staring at her during lectures. And he didn’t do it on purpose! Most of all, not obsessively. It just happened that the longer they knew each other, the more their private conversations continued, the more often his gaze drifted toward her. Sometimes, while analyzing a topic, he was so curious about what she thought, specifically what she thought, that he simply couldn’t stop himself… although usually, he still couldn’t read much from her face.

At his observation, her hand resting on the edge of the desk froze.

“Exactly,” she admitted, giving him a gentle smile. He looked at her more closely then, noticing the slight radiance on her face. That expression suited her. It wasn’t as if she always wore a completely serious or sad face. More often, though, she hid her emotions instead of eagerly presenting every little feeling she had. She cleared her throat, and Spencer immediately dropped his gaze. “I hope the sound of tearing paper doesn’t throw you off rhythm.”

“Of course not,” he reassured her quickly. “Don’t even worry about it. The only thing that throws me off rhythm is conversations.”

“That doesn’t happen often, though,” she replied. “I mean, others don’t talk to each other when you’re speaking. It’s completely different in other classes.”

This comment surprised him immensely; he frowned and asked what she meant by it.

"Maybe it's just my observation," she noted at the start. "Maybe it's about the way you speak—you’re... you're very engaged in the topic, and listening to you is so pleasant that others don't feel the need to make silly remarks or interrupt. Or maybe..." She suddenly stopped, a tension flickered across her face, as if she desperately wanted to pull back from what she was about to say.

"Or maybe...?" He couldn't stop himself, so curious to hear the end of the sentence. Then he noticed her discomfort, her gaze fixed on the desk, embarrassment washing over her. His curiosity wasn’t worth making her feel that way, and he quickly scolded himself. "It's fine, you don't have to continue..."

"Or maybe I just think that others are quieter because of how focused I am," she blurted out in one breath, pressing her lips together in embarrassment. Spencer felt an unidentified shift in the rhythm of his heart, beating against his chest. "On you. On the lecture, of course."

"On the lecture," he repeated, his voice strangely husky. He swallowed, trying to clear it, struggling to find the right words. "I'm... I'm really glad that you find everything I say so interesting."

"Of course I do," she replied carefully. "Criminology is my passion, and it's the field I want to explore as deeply as I can. And you're a huge authority to me. Like, I’m sure, to all the other students too," she added hastily.

As December progressed, their conversations became a bit less lively and shorter. Or maybe it was just some mistaken impression of his? Maybe he had grown to like them so much and looked forward to them so eagerly that no matter how long they lasted, it would never be enough for him? He felt strange with such a thought and immediately reprimanded himself. He shouldn't be placing so much importance on his meetings with his student. 

She shouldn’t occupy his thoughts as much as she did.

Brilliant, now he was starting to pin all the blame on her. 

Pathetic.

Looking back, that day was exceptionally bright. Snowflakes fell relentlessly from the sky, twirling in a dance-like motion and tracing delicate patterns in the air. A thick layer of snow on the windowsills cast a white glow across the room and seemed to shield the interior from the intrusion of any potential darkness.

Spencer had promised himself he wouldn’t look at her the moment he walked into the room. And yet, he did. Though she might have seemed like a loner, she had a small circle of friends—three, to be precise. A quiet girl, a guy, and, finally, another girl who was their complete opposite, always seeming to voice the thoughts of their entire group aloud.

Before his arrival, they seemed to be discussing something. She was only half-listening, her eyes fixed on the book she was reading. When she did respond, which was rare, her lips barely parted. Meanwhile, as she turned the pages, her hands gripped them so tightly it looked as if she might tear them apart.

He mentally noted the detail, curious about what kind of book could evoke such emotions in her. He desperately needed to know the title. Or maybe it wasn’t about the book at all? It didn’t matter. He had to find out anyway.

Reid couldn’t make out the writing on the cover—simple and black, like some kind of journal. Throughout the entire lecture, it lay closed right under her nose. Craning his neck and trying to identify it he probably looked like a total idiot. It was only after some time that he reminded himself, sobered by the thought that, based on what she had once told him—and assuming it had been a sincere admission—he was, in some way, an authority figure to these students. He ought to focus on passing on as much of his knowledge to them as possible in return. 

When the class finally came to an end, everyone began heading for the exit. She usually packed her things at a very slow pace, making sure to be the last one in the room, apart from him. She wasn’t doing anything wrong; she had the right to stay and talk to her professor, but she still approached it with some caution. Maybe she didn’t want to raise the curiosity of her friends? In any case, that day she didn’t slow down as she made her way to his desk. She followed the other figures toward the exit, arm in arm with a friend who was saying something to her. Spencer was surprised to notice that she didn’t turn toward him even once.

Before he could understand what she was doing, he called her name. Loudly.

She wasn’t the only one who turned around, but she was the only one who stayed. He tried hard to read the expression on her face. She seemed a little distracted, her gaze moving from the door to him, and he began to suspect that maybe she had simply forgotten about their brief conversations. He deeply hoped that was the case. Not that she had any problems, or that he had said something she didn’t like…

“Yeah?” she asked, tightly holding a thick book against her chest. He still hadn’t figured out which one, and it still intrigued him. “Do you want to talk about something, professor?”

Reid suddenly realized in panic that he hadn’t prepared any topic. He had called her over spontaneously, not even really knowing why. Usually, it was her who approached him with a question, and the conversation would flow on its own… but the weight of her gaze left him no time to think. 

"Well..." he began, nervously swallowing and feeling like a small, pathetic boy. "Actually, no... actually, I just wanted to know... if you had any questions. About the lecture, I mean."

He leaned one hand on the desk, hoping he didn’t look as deeply embarrassed as he felt. What the hell was happening to him?

"I don't have any," she replied. Spencer almost sighed in disappointment, barely managing to stop himself. She had been standing very close to the closed door, turning toward it as if making sure no one was behind it. Then, suddenly, she timidly stepped closer to him. "To be honest, I wasn't really focused today. I guess... it’s just not my day."

 His brows furrowed in brief concern.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Do you need me to explain something in more detail? It's... really no trouble for me, and I don’t want you to fall behind."

"Please don't worry about it, professor," she assured him. Her fingers tightened around the book she was holding, and the sigh that escaped her lips carried with it a small... smile? "Thank you for that, but I'll just take notes from someone and catch up on my own. I don't want to take up your time..."

 "It's really no trouble..."

 "...And by the way... I don't feel too well. My focus is nonexistent so it wouldn’t make much sense."

"Alright," he gave in, and for a moment, they both fell silent. Looking at her face, he tried to find any signs of illness, a developing cold, or maybe the flu. She did look a bit pale. She shifted from foot to foot, and he realized he had been staring at her and quickly shook his head. "Sorry for holding you up. You should go and try to rest. Have…have something warm to drink. It will do you good."

She wasn’t gazing longingly at the door, impatient with his words and eager to leave, as he had thought she would. In fact... she seemed to be looking at him with a hint of hesitation.

"It’s not that... I can’t focus at all," she began. "It’s just that more complicated topics can’t settle in my mind. Related to studying, mostly. But that doesn’t mean I want to shut myself off completely. Honestly, I think I could use a bit of conversation..." A sudden laugh escaped her lips. "Sorry, really. I didn’t mean to bother you with... nonsense. I should probably talk to a friend, not a professor, if I just wanted to chat..."

She flinched, as if about to turn and leave—almost run away. Spencer straightened abruptly, wanting to stop her.

“No, wait—don’t go. You can talk to me. What is it? Is something bothering you?”

Her gaze wandered aimlessly around the room for a moment before she finally shook her head.

"Nothing specific. Stress, the end of the semester, you know. Everyone’s only talking about that, and I just want to think about something else for a moment. Anything."

"I completely understand," Reid admitted. Leaning back against the edge of his desk, arms crossed over his chest, he studied her more intently. A flicker of doubt sparked within him—was it really just that? Something inside him tugged, eager to uncover everything weighing on her mind and causing such a somber mood. But he knew her well enough by now to realize that a direct question would only make her retreat.

He paused, considering what he would want to talk about if he needed to distract himself from a troubling thought.

"Does... does literature fall under those complicated topics you can’t quite settle in your mind?"

She dropped her head with a sudden laugh. A fleeting sense of satisfaction washed over him, as if he’d just achieved some long-term goal. Odd, but pleasant.

“No,” she replied. “Literature is actually a topic I could talk about even in the middle of the night, freshly woken from sleep. In theory, at least. In practice, I’d probably start mixing up names so much you wouldn’t even know which work I was referring to. I mean, they wouldn’t. The person who woke me up wouldn’t know—I didn’t mean you specifically…”

This time, it was him who started laughing as she, embarrassed, tried to untangle herself from her own words.

"I got the general message."

"Thank God. You know, I've been thinking lately that if I just kept my mouth shut every time I said something stupid, I’d save myself from a ton—no, an enormous amount of incredibly awkward social situations."

It amused him that she had pointed out a problem he himself often dealt with. He opened his mouth to say something, but almost immediately had to close it again. He nearly blurted out that he found all her moments of embarrassment genuinely endearing and didn’t want her to hold back from speaking around him just out of fear of self-embarrassment. 

Before he could even decide if it was the appropriate thing to say, she spoke again.

“So… why did you ask about literature?”

He was so lost in thought that for a brief moment, he almost forgot that he had even brought up the topic. It wasn’t until his gaze once again landed on the book she was holding that he snapped back to reality.

“I spent most of the lecture wondering what you were reading,” he admitted, still standing with his back to the desk, leaning on it with his hands, trying to hide their brief, slight tremor. Maybe he had said it too directly… or perhaps it was just his usual tendency to overanalyze every word he said to her. Quickly, he added, “Because I’m sure I’ve never seen that book before. I don’t recognize the cover at all, although I know there can be different editions. What’s the author’s name?”

She gave him the name with a strange expression. Spencer furrowed his brows, but she beat him to it, speaking before he could say anything.

“That’s right, it’s my father’s book.”

Honestly intrigued, he tilted his head to the side.

"I didn’t know he was a writer. And... to be completely honest, I’ve never heard of him..."

To his surprise, she laughed. Not shyly and genuinely as before, but with a bitterness that lingered in her voice.

"It’s not that he was a writer. He just really, really wanted to be one. But no publisher was really interested in what came out of his office. Which doesn’t surprise me much. Anyway, in the end, he gave up and printed that one copy just to have something to proudly put on the shelf."

He felt that they had stepped onto some unstable ground, one that required him to tread carefully. Or perhaps even retreat if it might cause her any pain. And it seemed that it did. However, Spencer felt too concerned to pull back. 

“Why are you reading his book, anyway?” he asked cautiously. Her face remained expressionless, and he wondered if she even caught the gist of his question. Most likely, she did—without a problem—but he felt an inner need to add something more, to keep the conversation flowing smoothly instead of making it feel like an interrogation. “Maybe… maybe it’s just my completely wrong assumption—correct me if I’m off—but you didn’t exactly look… like you were enjoying it much.”

She drew in a breath and let it out slowly. She forced herself to stay calm, forced herself to appear at ease. But it was too late—the enigmatic shield that had protected her from all sides had been cracked, and her expression turned transparent, everything behind it 

"He's gone. Two years ago, in December," she admitted, her voice lacking overt despair, though tinged with the unmistakable weight of layered pain. She seemed uncomfortable sharing it—not with him as a person, but with him as her professor. "A few days before Christmas. Last year... I don’t know why, maybe just to torture myself, I started reading it. And this year, the same thing. The month started, and somehow, subconsciously... I just woke up with the book in my hands at one point. That’s... for context. Forgive me if this doesn’t interest you at all. I probably said too much…”

“No, you didn’t. Don’t think that,” he assured her, instinctively taking a step forward, closer to her, though he couldn’t quite explain why. The conversation had drifted into an unexpected territory, but this was exactly what he had wanted—to know what had been weighing on her. “At least… at least now I understand what’s been making you feel the way you do lately. I won’t keep catching myself trying to guess what’s behind it anymore. And I won’t worry so much, now that I know.”

“Worry,” she repeated immediately after him, before the echo of his previous words had a chance to dissolve into the void. Her tone was the kind used to point out someone’s grammatical slip-ups—sharp, quick, decisive. As if she simply couldn’t help herself.

Spencer froze in place, just one step away from her. Now that he was finally this close, he could have taken a proper look at the cover of the book she was holding, but suddenly, it didn’t matter at all. His focus was entirely on her—her words, her face, and the quiet weight of the troubles she carried.

He didn’t know what he should do, his hands falling limply at his sides. He imagined what it would feel like to gently touch her cheek—he could do it, all it would take was moving his hand forward. That was all that separated them. Just that small distance and some ingrained barrier in his mind, shaking its head in disapproval and conjuring painfully vivid images of her pulling away before his fingers even grazed her skin, leaving him as quickly as she could.

“It’s not that… reading this book is such a complete torment,” she began with a sigh, relaxing her posture slightly as his shadow loomed just above her. She held the book out toward him, so close that she didn’t even have to extend her elbow. She had clearly changed the subject. “You can… check for yourself. It’s decently written. At times, good. It has some insightful points. Page 814, for example. Verse 6.”

Surprised not only by the request but also by her precise instructions, Reid took the book from her without hesitation. It was incredibly thick and heavy, with no interesting illustrations on the cover, only the author’s name written in fancy font. Though his reading speed was impressive, instead of absorbing the information on the following pages, he focused on reaching the one she had pointed out.

The mentioned quote was underlined with a black line, as if drawn with a ruler.

"It is impossible to prove your loyalty under favorable conditions. For it to happen, something must shake your world, the walls of your home must begin to crumble, and challenges must materialize outside. Only then, in that most difficult moment for both of you, can you finally prove to the other person that you will never leave them, and that your love will never reach their back."

"I love this quote," she said before he could formulate any thought. Surprisingly, there was no trace of irony in her voice. "Honestly. It's accurate and aligns with my personal worldview. But at the same time, it amuses me incredibly..." She scoffed bitterly. "...That it came from the pen of a guy who, after sixteen years of marriage, got another woman pregnant. Oopsie. A bit of hypocrisy, don't you think?"

Completely shaken by the confession, Spencer placed his hand on her shoulder. He didn't care that she had said it all in a tone dripping with sarcasm, not in the form of a broken lament. He still felt that he had to, felt that he needed to offer her some form of support, even if it was as weak as touching her hand.

She seemed to be in shock. Those earlier words had almost escaped from her lips on their own, and she kept them slightly parted, as if hoping they would return. And when they didn't, she must not have expected his reaction. Or maybe she was counting on a response just as sharp as her tone, a snicker or a biting retort. Not a touch, not a tender furrowing of his brow.

Her bottom lip trembled, and her cheeks flushed with a delicate redness.

 “Sorry, really. Can I... can I open the window? I think I need some fresh air…”

Instead of responding, he guided her toward the window, his hand resting on her back, hovering just at the edge of touch. She closed her eyes, feeling the winter chill against her face, and sighed. Spencer, though reluctantly, stepped back a couple of paces, giving her space. But he couldn't stop himself from studying her face. He hadn't noticed it before, too focused on her mind, but now he saw that her face, her presence, was just as beautiful.

Was it just a simple statement of fact, or a thought that had emerged from the unpredictable corners of his inner self?

They spent a moment, maybe even a few minutes, in silence. After that, she hesitantly turned to him over her shoulder.

"Oh no, don't you dare apologize again," he warned, extending his hand in a firm gesture.

"But I should," she said. "You're my professor, and I just came to you and started unloading about my life. It's not even just inappropriate anymore, it's simply pathetic."

"As long as I don't consider it inappropriate or pathetic, then it isn't. And you place too much importance on the fact that I'm your professor. Maybe... it would help you if you stopped seeing me only in that context, and started... seeing me as, say, a friend. And if that's too much, then at least as a genuinely interested conversational partner?"

The corners of her lips suddenly trembled.

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"Well, I think we could argue about the definition if we wanted to."

“There’s no need for that,” she said, turning fully away from the window and leaning on the windowsill with her elbows. A few traces of a blush still lingered on her face, adding so much charm that Spencer’s thoughts began to wander in such a dangerous direction that he had to look away. “But… I need to know. Is that… what you really think of me? A conversation companion? A slash, a friend?”

“I’m not sure… if I understand,”

 One of her nails bent as she nervously tapped it on the windowsill.

 “I just want to know if you think of me as someone more than an annoying student who bothers you after every lecture.”

Reid was momentarily taken aback.

“You thought I thought of you like that?”

Unfazed, she blinked.

“You tell me.”

"He didn’t know how to put it into words without it sounding inappropriate. In the end, he decided to stop worrying about propriety and just be honest.

"Not once, since you started coming to see me, have I thought you were irritating. But more than once, I’ve thought that you’re truly fascinating, and I even... I even found myself eagerly awaiting what you’d want to talk about next."

Her head tilted slightly to the side as she listened to him. The old, familiar impenetrability returned to her expression—her eyes slightly narrowed, her lips... perhaps on the verge of an uncertain smile?

He never got the chance to find out. Immediately after his words, someone interrupted them, completely shattering the atmosphere inside.

"Are there any more classes here?" asked the man responsible for cleaning, peeking inside. "I thought they were over..."

"Because they are," Reid quickly replied, only now noticing that, indeed, darkness had fallen outside. Their classes had taken place in the afternoon, and the conversation had stretched so long that early winter evening had already begun. "We were just... just leaving."

"Well then, I guess goodbye," she said once they were outside. "It really got late, and I need to rewrite my notes..."

For some reason, he felt incredibly disappointed.

*

The last lecture before the Christmas break took place in a dreamy atmosphere. Everyone's spirit was already outside the classroom, far from criminology-related topics, surrounded by family and loved ones.

As usual, he couldn't stop glancing in her direction. He was incredibly pleased that nothing had changed since their memorable conversation, and their routine of chatting after every class remained untouched. Or perhaps something had changed? Their mutual ease with one another had grown, as had the range of topics they navigated. His impatience for their conversations had grown as well...

That day, he waited for her to approach his desk with her characteristic, slow, perfectly controlled step. He watched, almost hypnotized, as she did, adjusting her bag on her shoulder before standing up from her seat. But when she was right in front of him, one of her friends, the loud one, suddenly grabbed her hand.

"Don't tell me you're planning to bother him again," she scoffed. "We were supposed to go out and eat together before I head home, remember?"

"Oh," her friend hesitated, casting an apologetic glance at Spencer. They were too close for him not to overhear their conversation. He felt a selfish frustration rising within him. "Actually, sorry, I forgot. But...Can you give me a minute?"

Her friend rolled her eyes but nodded, and after a moment, they were left alone in the room.

"You're not staying to chat, or has my deduction skills gotten worse?"

"Unfortunately. I mean, unfortunately, I'm not staying. For long. I just wanted to... wish you a Merry Christmas."

Sometimes, when he talked to her, he forgot there was a world outside of their conversation, and that such a thing as months existed, and one of them was December. Christmas, right.

"Merry Christmas, to you too. I hope... I hope you'll have a really nice time."

He didn't know what else to add. Everything he said could lead to a long discussion, and outside the door, her friend was probably waiting for her to join her. So he stayed silent, a little awkwardly. She gave him an equally awkward smile. Awkward, but sincere.

Her feet shuffled in place, as if they wanted to stay in the room, not leave.

She waved goodbye once more to break the tension and disappeared through the door.

Spencer let out a heavy sigh. Maybe he should've said something. Suddenly, so many possible topics came to his mind. For example, the holiday party, the ball, organized by her department. Was she planning to go? What about Christmas itself? Was she going to spend it with her family? How was she feeling? How had her day gone? Did she enjoy the lecture? They were short questions, ones she'd probably answer just as briefly. He could have asked any of them.

But it was too late. They won't see each other until the beginning of the new semester.

He overanalyzed the interaction for a few more hours, later that evening, on his way to the university library. The corridors were almost empty; the students had either left or were attending the Christmas ball that had just begun. It might have sounded a bit serious and pompous, but such an event was indeed organized every year by a different department. It shouldn’t be confused with a student party, as formal attire was required, and the music was usually classical or instrumental versions of traditional carols. It was a way to thank the students, faculty, and university management for completing another semester.

He overanalyzed the interaction for a few more hours, later that evening, on his way to the university library. The corridors were almost empty; the students had either left or were attending the Christmas ball that had just begun. It might have sounded a bit serious and pompous, but such an event was indeed organized every year by a different department. It shouldn’t be confused with a student party, as formal attire was required, and the music was usually classical or instrumental versions of traditional carols. It was a way to thank the students, faculty, and university management for completing another semester.

Initially, Reid had planned to stop by briefly, but after feeling strange for a few hours and sensing a migraine coming on, he decided to skip it. He definitely preferred to spend the evening among the shelves and books. He rarely admitted it to others, but the reason he chose this particular university was not the salary offered, but the richness of their library’s resources.

He had hoped that spending time there would help distract him from a certain student, who had progressively been occupying his thoughts more and more. In fact, she already had a room in his mind. A room. A damn palace with seven bedrooms, each dedicated to a different day of the week. What he hadn’t expected, however, was to see her almost immediately after stepping into the library. Fast asleep in one of the corners, her face resting on a small table with four seats around it, only one of which was occupied—hers.

Reid couldn't help but chuckle at the irony of it.

Before he had a chance to think about it, before the thought even crossed his mind that perhaps she didn’t want anyone disturbing her in the middle of her late-night solo study session, he moved closer, carefully stepping so as not to wake her. It didn’t take long for him to realize that he could probably jump up and down, and it wouldn’t make a difference. Both of her ears were plugged with headphones, effectively shutting her off from the sounds of the outside world.

Despite this fact, he carefully sat down on the edge of the table to her left, so close that her limp hand, resting on it, ended up parallel and very close to his leg. First, he glanced at the textbooks spread out before her, then at the thick book by her father, the one she still read every day. Finally, his gaze fell on her—on that face, deeply asleep. Unable to resist, he lifted his trembling hand and gently tucked the strands of hair that had fallen onto her face behind her ear.

The moment his fingers brushed her skin, she jolted awake with a startled flinch. Spencer blushed, realizing only then what he had done. To avoid embarrassing himself, he quickly cleared his throat and spoke up.

“Sorry to wake you. But this probably isn’t the most comfortable place to nap.”

She straightened up, blinking in confusion.

“Did I fall asleep…?” Her gaze locked on him, and she shook her head, now fully awake. “Oh, I definitely fell asleep. I didn’t even notice you coming up.”

“Maybe I was sneaking around too much. Anyway, what were you working on before you passed out? Studying, reading?”

Still rubbing her tired face, she looked at her things.

“I guess a bit of both. I had some catch-up work I wanted to do. Then I decided I had enough, and my brain just couldn’t absorb any more new facts or information. So, I started reading.” She nodded toward the book.

Reid stared at her for a moment longer.

“You know… I’ve been thinking about it lately,” he began. It was a little hard for him to focus on speaking when she rested her chin on her hand, looking at him from beneath her lifted lashes. Her eyes were puffy, mascara slightly smudged under her eyelids, but she still looked… well, it was hard to put it into a single word. “About your dad’s book, I mean.” Actually, he'd mostly been thinking about her, but that topic had popped into his mind for a moment. “And that quote you read to me once. It seemed pretty good, and I’m surprised no publisher wanted to release it. What’s it actually about?”

He felt confused by the sudden amusement that appeared on her face.

“What’s going on?” He furrowed his brows.

She shook her head, trying to suppress her laughter.

“Just so you know, I’m not laughing at you,” she quickly reassured him. “It’s just when I imagined your reaction… okay, just listen. My dad’s novel is about a young student, a poor one, who, in a moment of desperation, decides to murder a woman from whom he borrowed money. And then for the next thousand pages, he alternates between hating himself and trying to justify his actions in his own eyes.”

Spencer was silent, his brows lowering more and more.

“Sorry… I really don’t want to accuse your dad of plagiarism, but this sounds like…”

“Crime and Punishment, I know. And it is plagiarism. Well, he preferred to call it inspiration, and, to be fair, not everything is the same. The story takes place in New York instead of Petersburg, the main character’s name is different, but everything else… it’s the same, only longer. Every chapter stretched to its limits, with reflections on every possible subject. It’s almost twice the length of the original.”

Not knowing how exactly to respond, he did what felt most natural. He laughed, and she followed with a quick chuckle.

“Sorry, this is so absurd. Why... why did he actually do it?”

“I ask myself that question every day, believe me. He was kind of a Dostoyevsky wannabe. On his desk, he kept a photo of me and a collector’s edition of The Brothers Karamazov. He even... he even tried to force me to study Russian philology instead of criminology, but, well… you can see how that turned out. And if this sounds absurd to you, guess what the main character’s name is?”

“You mentioned it’s different. But I have no idea, probably something more in line with American standards…”

“Oh, very much. Rodney Rozzleknock. Now I bet you’re not surprised nobody wanted to publish it?”

For a moment, they sat in silence, he alternately shook his head in disbelief and hid his face in his hands. This was probably the most absurdly funny thing he had heard in a long time, and if it weren’t for the actual version of the book they were talking about being right in front of him, he wouldn’t believe it existed.

"So that's why you know so much about Russian literature," he said. They had once had a brief conversation on the topic, and he had actually been impressed.

"It wasn’t knowledge I willingly acquired. And by the way, what are you doing here, Professor?"

He shrugged. She hadn’t used that title for him in a while, but hadn’t yet started using his first name either, and he wasn’t sure how to suggest it.

"I was planning to drop by the ball for a bit, but I decided I’d rather spend some time among books. Speaking of which, the ball. Didn’t you want to go?"

He assumed that she might be similar to him in that regard and didn’t really care for events like that. But, to his surprise, a certain, not so obvious expression crossed her face.

"Actually, I would have gone if I had gotten an invitation."

"I don’t understand," he furrowed his brows. "You don’t need an invitation. Your department organized it, you were all invited just by the fact of it.”

Her lips parted in shock, and a short Oh escaped.

"In that case... I guess it doesn't matter anymore. It's too late. My friend won't be there, the rest of my friends have probably already gone, and I won’t be able to find them in the crowd, and..." She sighed, a bit embarrassed. "And I guess I'm just kind of too shy to show up there alone."

Reid watched her in silence for a moment. A foolish thought crossed his mind. Foolish, but... was it really? He had no idea how she might interpret it, whether she’d even want to, or what she’d think of him.

“I’d be happy to... go with you,” he blurted out, nervously swallowing the lump in his throat as soon as the words left his mouth. His eyes stayed fixed on her, searching for her reaction.

And she... burst into laughter, probably assuming he was joking.

“Wait... seriously?” she asked, straightening her shoulders, her tone suddenly more incredulous. “But... how do you even imagine that? It’s already started, I’m completely unprepared, and it’s formal attire only…”

"I’ll need to change too. But it won’t take long, and the ball goes on late. We’ll only be a little late," he reasoned logically, realizing he was actively trying to convince her. He hated these kinds of events, but this was a chance to spend time together... Besides, he was doing it for her. Why should she miss out on something she clearly wanted to attend just because of a misunderstanding and a bit of shyness?

"Yeah... but I’ll still have to deal with everything else. I look—"

Before she could finish, he leaned in and gently wiped the smudged mascara from under her eye with his thumb.

"You look perfect. Just right for the ball. So?"

Her eyes widened at the gesture, and a sharp exhale escaped her lips.

“Okay. Okay. I think... I think we can do this... Why not? Just give me fifteen minutes. Thirty. Thirty minutes...”

As she spoke, she hastily gathered all her belongings into her bag, glanced at him for a brief moment, then disappeared in a rush, not even looking back over her shoulder.

Spencer, on the other hand, felt as though he had been glued to the table he was perched on. His heart was pounding wildly in his chest.

Did he just... ask the girl he liked to a ball?

And she said yes?

He still couldn’t quite believe it, even when, exactly thirty minutes later—almost as though she’d measured the time with a stopwatch—they met again at the entrance to the gymnasium, now transformed for the occasion.

The floor had been covered in polished wooden panels, and the walls were draped with light-colored fabrics, adorned with strings of glowing garlands shaped like snowflakes. In the corner of the room, a small stage, decorated with sprigs of evergreen, hosted a modest orchestra of students and members of the college choir, playing gentle holiday tunes live.

The scene was beautiful, almost magical, but Spencer only took it in once as they entered. For the rest of the evening, his attention was solely on her—because, once again, he couldn’t find the words to describe what he was seeing.

And that didn’t happen very often.

"Do you think... do you think any of the other professors might disapprove of you being here with me?" she asked hesitantly as they made their way along the edge of the gym, skirting the buffet and staying far from the crowd dancing in the center.

For a moment, Spencer didn’t process her question. He was too focused on the way her lips moved as she spoke, too focused on her. Shaking himself out of it, he replayed her words in his mind.

"I… uh… no, I don’t think so," he replied, stumbling over his words. "Why would they? We’re both adults."

She still didn’t look convinced. Her brow furrowed, her gaze darting between the dance floor and him. Her hand rested lightly on his forearm, keeping them connected in the growing crowd, though she kept adjusting her grip as if unsure about the contact.

When Spencer tried to pull away, thinking she might be uncomfortable, she surprised him by grabbing his arm again, more firmly this time. Her insistence sent a strange, electrifying warmth through him.

He sighed softly, acutely aware of how close they were now—so close that their hips nearly brushed with every step. "Besides," he added, trying to sound reassuring, "this is a ball. Everyone’s here to have fun. No one’s going to pay any attention to us."

She nodded, as if trying to convince herself of the same thing, though her gaze drifted once more to the couples twirling around the dance floor. He felt a pang of apprehension, hoping she didn’t want to join them. That would be a disaster—he’d only manage to humiliate himself in front of her.

"I’m not much of a dancer," he blurted out quickly. "Okay, that’s an understatement. I’m a terrible dancer. You’d… you’d really rather not see me try, trust me."

For a moment, she stayed silent, her expression unreadable. Then, a small smile tugged at her lips.

"I, on the other hand, am a pretty good dancer," she admitted, attempting to sound modest. But after a beat, she rolled her eyes at herself and added with a wry laugh, "Okay, fine—I’m very good. My dad was a Dostoyevsky fanatic, but my mom? She was obsessed with dance. She practically dragged me to lessons for years. She thought it was a terrible shame not to know how to dance—especially for a man. No offense, of course."

Spencer ducked his head with a soft laugh.

"None taken. Listen, I believe you're a fantastic teacher... but I also believe I'm a lost cause. I might accidentally step on your feet..."

"You should pray that I don't step on your feet," she retorted with a laugh, extending her foot and tapping the heel of her shoe for emphasis. "But I think you should at least give it a try. After all, it’s a ball."

Spencer looked at her for a moment, caught between amusement and mild dread, before finally shrugging with a resigned grin. 

Earlier in life, he hadn’t had many opportunities to dance, so he was relieved that the piece being played by the school orchestra turned out to be incredibly slow. He could only cautiously mimic her movements, trying not to hurt her. However, focus came with difficulty as his nostrils were constantly filled with the sweet, distracting scent of her perfume and her body itself.

“You’re doing great,” she whispered softly, briefly lifting her gaze to him. He stared at her face for a moment, so close to his, cursing in his mind when she lowered her gaze again…

All evening, he had to fight with himself to avoid doing anything foolish.

But when, at midnight, they found themselves in his office, it became incredibly difficult.

Especially when she was slightly leaning against his desk, just in front of him, and the blush of dance-induced fatigue covered most of her neck. He wanted to touch that particular spot on her skin, expecting the blood to be pulsing there very quickly.

Her breath seemed quickened too, and every sound that escaped her lips drew him closer and closer to her. To the point where he thought he might lose his mind.

“Thank you for tonight,” he said, hoping that if he focused on the words, on speaking them, it might somehow sober him from this state. “I really... didn’t expect to have such a great time at the ball.”

Speaking wasn’t helping; the way her gaze wandered over him certainly wasn’t helping. The way the dress fit her body... none of it was helping.

"I'm glad," she said softly, the redness now covering not just her neck but most of her cheeks as well. She took a deep breath, as if calming herself. "You know, I felt a little guilty because I had the impression that you went there just for me."

"Well, I considered going alone... earlier," he confessed. "But in the end, I changed my mind, and I'm glad I did, because otherwise, I wouldn't have run into you, and I wouldn't remember any of this so clearly. Thank you," he repeated, and before he knew it, he was standing even closer to her, closer than propriety would dictate. Unable to fight it any longer, he reached for her hip, hidden beneath the fabric of her dress. She sharply inhaled, seeming embarrassed by her own reaction. He started to pull back, but then she lightly perched herself on the edge of the desk... and his hand slid down her body, gently grazing her knee. “"Really, I would like to thank you..."

His throat went dry, a nervous sweat rose on his neck. He felt her knee, then her thigh under his finger, his whole hand under the fabric of her dress, heading higher and higher…but suddenly stopped, when her trembling hands began to untie his tie.

"Probably... probably you're uncomfortable," she explained, swallowing. She looked at the collar of his shirt, at the place where his hands were, but couldn't bring herself to look him in the eyes. "It's a bit... stuffy in here."

He could feel the moisture on his fingers even though his fingers didn’t even get inside. He hesitated right there, glancing uncertainly at her face. Her eyes were closed, and she was breathing heavily, exhales escaping her lips with a quiet hiss.

"Are you okay?" he asked, making sure. He didn't like the fact that her eyes were closed; he couldn't read many emotions from her face, and he needed to be certain that this was what she wanted. Her face didn't even twitch at his question. "I won't do anything more if you don't answer me."

She swallowed, their faces were inches apart, and he could see and hear it.

"What... what would you like me to answer?"

"Just that you want this," he whispered.

"I want this...Spencer."

It was probably the first time she addressed him by his name, but the state he was in didn’t allow him to trust his memory too much. He hadn’t expected himself to ever think like that. In any case, it acted like a catalyst for him. Barely had the last syllable left her lips, his finger sank into her. 

One, and soon after, another.

His name escaped her lips again, but this time, halfway through, it turned into a sweet, pleading moan. For a while, no sound other than their restless breaths could be heard in the office. Her moan tore through the surroundings, pierced the air, and lodged itself there forever. Just as it became lodged in his ears, tickling them from within. He wanted to hear it again...He quickly found the rhythm that most often caused it.

She spread her legs wider which allowed him to get closer, to gain better access. At first, both of her hands were gripping the edge of the desk, her knuckles almost white. With each of his movements, stronger and gradually faster, they began to loosen slowly, until they finally released completely. Surprised, she sighed, not knowing where to place them, and threw them around his neck.

“Is… is this how you’re thanking me for today?’ she asked, her voice high, he could barely understand her through the chaotic breaths. He was so focused that he didn’t even notice she had opened her eyes. 

Her beautiful eyes. So pleading, begging him not to stop.

"Are you taking this as a form of thanks?"

She nodded, and at the same moment, she closed her eyes again, tilting her head back. Spencer groaned at the sight of her exposed neck, the blush covering it. He leaned to taste her warm skin, pressing his lips against it, then sighed directly into her, as a shiver ran through her entire body.

He had a feeling that if one more sound escaped her lips, he would simply lose his mind. Barely managed to speak again, his voice completely out of place with the words he intended to say, so high, almost crying.

"That's... that's not enough to thank you, don't you think?"

taglist: @she-wont-miss @mggslover @kakamixoxo @nyeddleblog @dylanobrienswife0420 @wmoony @heddgie @khxna @marauder-exe-old @yujyujj @charleyreid @aristeia29 @kitty-kai @sp3ncelle @nightfullofparadox

[reshinless]

──── sleeping on their lap ...

𝜗𝜚 synopsis. laying on his lap waaa, implied that reader & character are dating

𝜗𝜚 pairings. blade & dan heng x gn! reader ; seperately!

𝜗𝜚 director's notice. first work coming back from break, hope you like it, follow & rb to support (˶ˆᗜˆ˵)

he sounded annoyed as you lazed onto his lap. "just don't be a nuisance." blade placed his hand onto your forehead, "i won't be, plus you like it when i do this." you said, moving his palm over your mouth to give it a kiss !

he won't say it out loud, but he loves it so much once you do place your head on his lap

feels like the luckiest man alive, if you both are close enough, which is probably the case, but he'll hum a tune, a tune from his childhood, a tune that always lulled him to sleep. even on the darkest nights.

getting with this man is almost like impossible, and you practically did the impossible

likes to caress your face, not in a weird way, he just does it when he trying to admire your face.

type of guy to start playing with your hair too

and one time, he was reading something out loud to you, and if you ever mention that you liked it when he did that, he'll bring out a book or two to read out for you, and maybe go to sleep after that

but most of the time, he's the kind to just be quiet throughout it, him reading stuff out to you is quite rare unless you really ask him to.

even when he's stressed, your breathing kinda just calms him down. starts to match your breathing pattern the same way.

dan heng feels a little shock to sense that weight had slowly been put ontop of his lap, he looks down to see your face, "can i sleep like this for a bit? just a bit!" you say, taking his hand and putting it over your chest. "i— well, i can't really say no, can i?" he caresses your hair, "i can get off if you really don't want me to thou—" he cuts you off as you try to get your head up from his lap, "please, just rest easy." "oh alright! thanks dear!"

has confessed before that he loves it when you feel comfortable enough around him to lay your head on his lap.

you trust him enough that you sleep on him?! oh wow he is about just system restart.

can't help but start to intertwine his fingers in the strands of your hair, loves to do it so much.

just holds your hand when you're there, just there on his lap.

feels very proud, you put your trust in him and feel close enough to be vulnerable around him even though it's very clear you both are already dating? yes

he kinda is just like a book of a person. not that easy to open. but you got him to open up to you, and he's thankful everyday that he did.

YOO I LOVE THE WAY I STYLED THIS NO JOKE. just wait till i find out how to do them fake texts for smau trust.

[borathae]

"Your husband, who is your lovely sub on normal days, asks if he could take the lead for once."

Pairing: CEO!Jungkook x f.Reader 

Genre: married life!AU, Smut

Warnings: switchy Dom!Jungkook, switch!Reader, basically he wants to be Dom but ends up having quite a subby approach to the entire scene, he is so cute!, slightly bratty!Reader, he shows off his bratty side as well, he lets a few "Mommy"s slip because he is cute, sex in the playroom, leather handcuffs, he ties her to the bed with ropes, suit kink as he keeps his suit on during sex, lap sitting, he is a giggly tease, body worship, nipple licking, temperature play with peach juice, edging (f.receiving), oral (f.receiving), vaginal fingering, use of a rabbit vibrator, use of lube, strength kink, some dirty talk, he calls her "his queen", giggly aftercare, Kookie slips right back into sub-mode the moment the scene ended, they’re so in love!!

Wordcount: 9.7k

a/n: Okay you guys, you know that I love aaol!Kook and his subby nature very much, but this idea came to me one night and wouldn't want to leave me. So enjoy, this is him being the Dom in a scene I am *gulps* have fun besties 😩💜

Your husband had a request last night. It was the type of request he never made before and one you most definitely didn’t expect to ever hear from him.

“Can I dom you?”

The question fell during dinner, leaving you to look at him with widened eyes.

“It’s just that, that…”

He began stuttering then, fondling with his own ear nervously.

“...you know that I, uhm, you know how we, uhm. You know uhm. You know how we once talked about how I’m kinda only subbing for the right woman and that I’m actually a switch? You know it, it was on our first date. You know?”

You assured him that yes of course you remember.

“Yeah okay I uh. Uhm. Uh. Mmh, yeah. I was, uh.”

You had to tell him then, “Jungkook, please don’t be so nervous, there is no reason for it”, which calmed him down enough that he could finish his sentence properly.

“It’s just that, I was thinking that maybe we could, you know, switch it up for once? Just, just once obviously and I, I don’t wanna invalidate you as a Dom.”

“You aren’t, my love”, you told him to which he seemed rather assured.

“Okay good, so uhm. What do you think? Could I be, uhm, could I be the Dom for once? Just once? Please? Once?”

Jungkook looked at you with the biggest puppy eyes ever and so you told him in the most nonchalant of ways that “yeah sure, let’s switch it up. But ain’t calling you Daddy.”

“Ew hell no, that’s just gross. You’re literally the same age as me.”

At that you had to laugh, “but Jungkook dear, you call me Mommy too.”

“Well, that’s different because you’re hot and like totally my type.”

A day has passed between that conversation and the current moment. You have just come home, now in the middle of hanging up your coat when Jungkook calls for you.

“My love, can you come here for a moment?”

“Coming! Just gotta get rid of my bag!” you tell him, doing exactly that.

You find Jungkook in the living room once you are done undressing. He is sitting on the chaise lounge by the window, still wearing a suit. Well, parts of it at least. A black and terribly tight button up is tucked into his equally as tight and as black slacks. The sleeves of the shirt are rolled up, revealing his strong, lower arms to you. His favourite Rolex sits around his wrist. The suit jacket he had draped on the chaise lounge beside him.

“Hey there handsome, how was your day?” you greet him.

“Good. Yours?”

“Good too, just kinda stressful.”

“Yeah stressful?”

“Yeah very. But it’s alright because I’m home now. With you.”

Jungkook gives you a shy grin. You let your eyes run over his chest. He has three of his buttons open, leaving little to your imagination.

“But what’s with you. Why are you still in your suit?” you ask him.

“It’s not my work suit.”

“It’s not?”

Jungkook smirks and spreads his legs rather cockily.

“Come here, my love”, he says, carrying a certain rasp in his voice.

“Oh? Okay”, you chuckle, “is this already part of your plan?”

“Yeah maybe”, he straightens up the closer you come.

“Is it now? What about dinner?”

“Wanna take you out afterwards. It’s not good to play with a full stomach anyway”, he tells you, following the sway of your hips with his eyes, “now sit”, he says, tapping his lap.

You smile fondly, climbing on top of his lap in a way so that you were facing him. Your knees are caging in his hips and you have your hands hooked behind his neck.

“Like this?” you ask, playing with his undercut at the nape of his neck.

“Perfect”, he says and places his hands on your hips to massage them gently. He scans his eyes over your body, “you’re so beautiful, my love.”

“Oh? Thank you. I feel like a mess. I was sweating so much today.”

“I don’t even see it. You are so beautiful.”

“Thank you, Bunny.”

“No, no. Call me by name tonight”, he pauses, “if it’s alright with you, of course”, he adds in a whisper.

“By your name?” you stifle a chuckle, but Jungkook is looking at you with dead serious eyes, “fine. Thank you, Jungkook”, you coo, fluttering your lashes at him.

Jungkook nods his head and runs his hand up your back. He gives your body a gentle squeeze when he reaches your upper back, then begins dancing his hands down to your hips again.

“How was your day, my love? Honestly”, he asks with his attentive eyes solely focused on you. He loves listening to you.

“It was good. Just really hot and the last two lectures kinda ruined me. I’m so tired”, you say and rest your head on his shoulder, “but that’s amazing. You’re so snuggly.”

Jungkook kisses your hair and rubs his hands up and down your back. His touch is so nice, making you tingle in a comforting manner. 

“Are you in the mood for kink? I know I’m kinda surprising you right now.”

“No, I knew you would. We talked about it, didn’t we?”

“Mhm, yeah. But moods can change, especially after a long day.”

“No, I still want it. I was looking forward to tonight. I’m so curious to what you have planned.”

“It’s gonna be so good”, he says and wiggles.

“Yeah?"

“Mh-hm, I put a lot of thought into it and worked with the wishes you told me yesterday. I really worked so hard on it.”

“Uuh Bunny, that sounds intriguing.”

“I know, oh Mommy I’m so-”, he stops and wiggles out of your hug. He pouts at you, “no Bunny”, he frowns cutely, “and you’re not my Mommy tonight. No.”

You laugh, caressing his cheeks, “you’re cute. But fine. I’ll behave. What do you have planned, Jungkook?”

“First, tell me your rights”, he says.

“Well, I have the right to vote and the right to voice my opinion freely, there is also the right to-”

“No ___, don’t ruin my plan”, Jungkook whines, sending you a pleading look.

You chuckle. He is so adorable. You are pretty sure that if you truly acted bratty, he would just straight up break into tears because of feeling way too overwhelmed. Poor, sweet boy. Maybe you should cut him some slack for now. After all, Jungkook has a talent for planning scenes. You are sure that he put a lot of effort into tonight.

“Fine”, you give in, “Green, yellow and red. Snap my fingers three times or hum happy birthday. Also don’t you dare call me a good girl or I will end the scene immediately.”

“Yes, that’s it. I understand”, Jungkook says, nodding his head, “do you want this?”

“Yes Jungkook, I do.”

“Good”, he lowers his eyes playfully, “you know? I did some thinking today.”

“You did?”

“Mhm yeah. I was thinking about all the ways I could ruin you.”

“Ruin me?” you gasp, feeling genuinely surprised.

“Yeah”, Jungkook lowers his eyes playfully, “you always put so much effort into making sure I’m a complete mess, so I put a lot of thinking into what I could do to you.”

“You did?” you ask him, finding more and more enjoyment in the scene.

“Yeah”, he smirks playfully, “why don’t you clean up and get pretty for me and I’ll show you?”

“You’ll show me?” you ask huskily, moving closer.

Jungkook looks at your lips with half-lidded eyes.

“Yeah”, he rasps, “upstairs.”

A shiver runs down your spine, making your hips squirm on top of his lap.

“You really prepared it upstairs?”

“Yeah, like we talked about”, he says cockily, “I also put out something for you to wear.”

“Fuck Bunny, you-”

“Uh, nuh”, he silences you by pressing his finger against your lips, “aren’t you forgetting something here?”

“Jungkook”, you murmur, gawking at him with widened eyes, “I meant Jungkook.”

“Better”, he rasps and caresses your chin with two of his fingers, “now off you go, get cleaned up and pretty and then come upstairs. I’ll be waiting for you.”

“Fine, geez you’re really into this role aren’t you?” you murmur, stumbling off his lap with slightly wobbly knees.

Jungkook told the truth. He really prepared something to wear for you. One of his shirts. Babyblue and oversized. It is resting on your bed with a single red rose and a little note on top of it. You aren’t surprised that he chose something so domestic and casual. He loves it when you wear his clothes and quite frankly, you expected him to choose domestic attire for you.

You decide to get washed up first and read the note later.

Once done and with your body finally smelling and feeling clean again, you sit down on the edge of the bed, putting on the shirt. It fits you perfectly, smelling just like him. Once you took a good whiff of him, you reach for the note and the finely wrapped chocolate praline he placed beside it. You let it melt on your tongue as you read.

“A flower and chocolate for my Queen. PS: No panties please ;) Love, Jungkook.”

You smile, folding the note neatly and placing it next to the rose.

“You’re so cute, Bunny”, you murmur, leaving the bedroom to finally hurry upstairs.

You are so excited for what he has planned. You know that whatever he thought of will be fun. The two of you had a long and thorough conversation about your likes and dislikes last night, so you know that Jungkook must have taken great advantage of the knowledge. He is your amazing husband after all.

You knock three times and wait with a racing heart.

“Come in!”

You take a deep breath and finally slip inside.

The playroom doesn’t look much different than it normally does. Except that Jungkook turned on all the moodlights and he changed the once red PVC cover for the black one. It fits well with his outfit.

“Look at you”, he says, leaving the place by the backlit window to strut to you, “you look fucking stunning.”

“Thank you”, you say, “and thank you for the rose and chocolate.”

“Of course”, he says, taking your hand to place a soft kiss on top of your knuckles, “anything for my Queen”, he rasps, looking at you with playful eyes.

He leaves you all hot and bothered. This cocky, flirty attitude suits him so well.

“So”, you begin, “finally ready to tell me what you have planned for me?”

Jungkook straightens up solely to begin circling you like a predator would its prey. His steps are confident, the sound of his shoes are loud on the floorboards.

One.

Two.

He is standing just about behind you, placing his hand on your lower back. He leans in, making sure that you would feel his breath tickle your neck.

“Patience”, he whispers, inching his hand closer and closer to your front. He presents a flute of a sparkling beverage to you. It reflects the red lights, “for you.”

“What’s that?” you gasp, eyeing it with slight shock in your tummy.

“Sparkling peach juice”, he says and giggles, “I wanted to treat you to something yummy.”

“Oh dear, you had me worried that you got alcohol for a sec”, you say, accepting the flute gladly.

“Never”, he says and snakes his arm around you so he could clink glasses with you. He ghosts his lips over your neck as he does, sending shivers down your spine, “to a wonderful evening”, he rasps.

“Yeah”, you agree and guide the glass to your lips. Jungkook does the same with his’. One sip and then he ghosts his lips over your neck again. They are cold from the juice, their kisses leave wet spots on your skin. Jungkook lets his breath swirl over them, intensifying the sensation to the max. It also doesn’t help that his unoccupied hand is running up and down your waist, reminding you just how warm his touch feels.

“I’m so obsessed with you”, he whispers, nibbling on the spots he marked to get rid of the juice, “I can’t stop looking at you in this shirt”, he says, letting his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

The shiver running down your spine leaves you seeking his closeness. You lean into him, sipping on the juice.

“Means I’m yours”, you whisper, listening to his breath hitch.

“Mine?” he repeats, voice shaky.

You smirk triumphantly, “yeah, yours. When you’re on business trips I always put it on, it’s like you’re right there with me.”

“My love”, Jungkook is almost growling, pressing himself into you while his hand grips your hip strongly. He buries his face in your neck, purring deeply.

You giggle, stumbling from how aggressively he is gripping you and with just how much vigour he is grinding into you. You knew it. This would drive him insane. You solely did it to get him that way. Desperate and oh so turned on.

“Fuck, you drive me insane”, he rasps, “I wanna treat you so fucking right.”

His hand rests itself on your stomach, pressing your body back into him. You fall gladly, moaning softly when your ass brushes against his growing cock.

You have to look at him. You just have to.

“Goddamn Kook, what’s gotten into you?”

He looks into your eyes, “why? Do you not like it? Did I do something wrong?” he asks panickedly.

“No, it’s just. You’re actually into that role, aren’t you?”

He nods his head, “I spent my entire day thinking about it”, he confesses and giggles cutely, “I couldn’t concentrate at work at all because all I could think about was us and, and you and just how excited I am for tonight.”

“Well, that’s not good. You shouldn’t do that, baby”, you say, caressing his cheek.

“I know, but I couldn’t help it Mommy, I just-”, he falters, lowering his eyes at you, “don’t do that”, he whines.

“Oh, cutie”, you laugh.

“Hey don’t laugh, it’s not funny. You’re so mean, you gotta give me a chance too.”

“I am, I am. Don’t worry”, you assure him, snickering.

He huffs out air, pouting.

“Fine”, you twirl, placing your hand on his chest, “I’ll try to behave from now on.”

“Thanks”, he says, relaxing. He touches your side, massaging it slowly while his eyes race over your features.

“I’ll try, can’t promise that I’ll succeed”, you say, smirking.

“Mhm, that’s enough for me”, he says, pulling you closer, “thank you, my love. I really need this, so thank you.”

He is so sweet. You are melting on the spot. He is so, so sweet.

“Now”, you say and shotgun the rest of your juice, “finally wanna tell me what you have planned for me?”

“Well first”, he says and takes your hand, “follow me.”

He leads you to the bed, sitting down and pulling you on top of his lap in a way so that your legs would tangle down on one side of him and your back was supported by his arm. The glasses are placed on the floor for now.

The other hand he slips between your legs, feeling up your inner thigh with teasing precision. You really want to squirm because of it. His touch is like fire on your skin.

“What would you say if I told you that I want to put handcuffs around your wrists? And then make you lie on the mattress while I feel up every inch of you?”

“Handcuffs you’re saying? What kinda handcuffs?”

You are acting oblivious on purpose. In reality, you knew exactly of what handcuffs he is talking. You talked about it last night.

He nods his head to the side, pulling your attention to the black leather cuffs currently resting beside him on the bed. You know these cuffs. They have been around Jungkook’s wrists a hundred times before.

“Those seem familiar.”

“Mhm probably. They’re comfy, trust me.”

“Yeah? Have experience with them?”

He smirks playfully, looking at your lips, “maybe.”

“That’s hot. Someone so strong and manly all tied up. That’s so hot”, you coo, swirling your nail up his exposed chest.

Jungkook purrs, moving closer until your lips are touching. One second of gazing. His hand moves, his finger brushes over your pussy. A gasp slips past your lips.

“No panties”, he says and smiles, “you listened. I like that.”

He is tracing your thigh as he speaks. He is so close to your middle that you would only have to move a little and you could have his touch. One more time. The first touch felt so good.

“I thought I’d make it easier for you”, you whisper, chasing him in a squirm.

“You did so well”, he praises, “now”, he pauses his touches, hovers his finger just above your clit, “can you tell me what you think of the idea, mhm?”

Again. He knew exactly what you thought of it because you told him last night. You were into it and you trusted him. It was still terribly exciting to hear you consent to it once again.

“It’s alright.”

“Alright?”

You giggle playfully, making Jungkook frown. It’s actually quite a sexy look on him.

“Kidding. I like it”, you say, grinning when this makes Jungkook roll his eyes at you.

“Pick them up.”

“Huh?”

“Pick up the handcuffs”, Jungkook repeats the order. His voice sounds sterner than before.

You follow with a chuckle, snatching them from the mattress to tangle them from your fingers instead.

“And now?”

“Put them around your wrist.”

“Like this?” you ask, messing it up on purpose.

Jungkook grabs your wrist harshly, genuinely flustering you. He is still frowning, working skillfully to close the shackles. First your right then your left. He twists the chain between them and tugs your hands closer. 

“Like this”, he says.

“Well damn. That’s one way to do it”, you murmur, gazing into his dark eyes.

“How do they feel?” he asks.

“Good”, you rasp, gawking at him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, you’re just really hot”, you say, making him blush and lower his eyes. 

“Heh”, he lets out, gazing into your eyes. His hand slips between your legs again, massaging your inner thigh. You feel hot instantly, tensing your muscles in desperation. 

And as he runs his fingers over your skin, he continues talking.  

“I want to hook you to the bed by the handcuffs. What do you think of that?”

“Sounds constricting.”

“Yeah”, he places his hand over your pussy, moving his fingers as slowly as possible. 

You gasp because of it, parting your legs.

“I promise that it’ll feel nice. Like this”, he rasps, parting your folds with two of his fingers. He feels you up. Once. Twice. His touch retreats, desperation remains. 

“Jungkook”, you breathe, closing your fingers around a bundle of his shirt. 

Jungkook’s hooded eyes flit down to them, the right corner of his lips curls into a smirk. He touches your inner thigh, basking in the squirm you do because of it. 

“Can I call you cute?” he asks. 

“Cute?”

“Are you comfortable with being called that way?”

“Only when you say it. Why?”

He moves closer, squeezing your thigh and eliciting a loud gasp from you. His dark eyes flit to your lips, his breath tickles you as he speaks.

“Because you’re so fucking cute when you squirm for me”, he rasps, sending shivers down your spine. 

“Goddamn it, Kook”, you whisper, aching for a kiss. 

Jungkook purrs and smirks. He stubs you with his nose, getting to his feet afterwards with you in his arms bridal style. His muscles tense, he bounces you in his arms twice to get a better grip. And you are dizzy. Seriously, you are dizzy. You expected anything, but not for Jungkook to be so good at controlling a scene. 

Jungkook sets you down on the bed carefully, placing you in the middle of it and soothing you by caressing your cheek. 

“Are you comfortable?” he makes sure.

“Yeah, I am”, you assure him.

“Okay. Good. Lift your arms, I’m tying you down”, he orders and you obey. 

He grabs the rope, guiding it to your handcuffs to tie you down. He prepared the rope for tonight. Black tossa yute. He likes the feel of it and the colour. He thinks that it fits the overall vibe he is trying to go for. Dark and mysterious.

Jungkook finishes the knot, running his fingers down your arms and making you writhe in the process. His touch tingles like crazy.

“How is that?” he asks you. 

“Good”, you answer him, studying his face, “what now?”

“Now? I’m taking my time with you. You’re so beautiful, It’d be a shame not to”, he says, sitting down at the edge of the bed. He pulls one knee up, placing his arm across your waist. Like this, he is propped up on his hand, facing you with sparkly eyes. 

He runs them up and down your torso and as the seconds become longer and longer, those sparkles get replaced by hungry fire.  

You feel on fire too. Sharing silence with him. Being gazed upon. Building tension. Jungkook hasn’t touched you yet and somehow this is driving you insane. 

Jungkook moves. Finally. His touch lays itself upon your stomach. His warmth seeps through the shirt, your skin is covered in goosebumps. He caresses you, squeezes you afterwards. Strong and desperate. 

Jungkook locks eyes with you. They are dark and half-lidded. 

“You’re so fucking sexy in my shirt”, he rasps, voice deeper than usual, “I’m so addicted to you.”

“Addicted?” you gasp.

“Yeah”, he purrs, running his hand up your tummy and sternum until he reaches your throat. He doesn’t touch it, knowing that you don’t want him to go there. Instead he lifts his hand so only his fingertips are touching you. He tugs at the collar of the shirt, giving you a glimpse of what he will do next. “I’m running on nothing but you.”

You feel good from his sweet words. He always knows what to say. Jungkook slips his fingers to the upper most button of the shirt. 

“Can I start to undress you?” he asks

“Yes, you can”, you allow him, feeling incredibly safe right now. You didn’t for a second feel fear for tonight. There is a reason why you don’t want to sub. Not only for the most obvious one that Domming just feels a lot better to you and it comes natural to you, but also because being a sub in the past hurt you. The men you had to sleep with at your job hurt you, fucked you into non-consensual submission and left without making sure to fix what they broke. Quite frankly, being someone’s sub traumatised you.

But you weren’t scared of tonight because you aren’t scared of Jungkook. You could never be scared of Jungkook. Especially not when it comes to kink. He respects you, loves you and cherishes you. You told him that you needed him to ask permission for every new step he takes and he does. He is asking, going slow, making sure that he only proceeds once he gets your clear verbal consent. This is everything you needed and Jungkook is showing you once again that you can always trust him and count on him. And it is enough to make you feel safe enough that you willingly let yourself get tied up and therefore rendered helpless.

He undresses you slowly. Button by button. Each time he opens a new one, he feels up your skin with featherlight touches. There are ten buttons on his shirt, by the time you mentally counted to ten, you are aching for his touch. You really, really are. 

Jungkook retreats his hand, letting the situation hang in the air. Your shirt is still closed except for a little slit having formed in the middle. Technically you are still dressed, but feel naked already. Naked and desperate. 

“How was that?” he asks you. 

“Good”, you get out, “Jungkook, hurry up.”

“Patience”, he soothes you, caressing your hip. 

“I hate patience”, you say and huff out air. 

“No you don’t, you’re telling me to be patient all the time”, he retorts and goddamn it hits right where it hurts the most.

“No need to throw my own bomb back at me”, you mumble, making him snicker.

You send him a pout, one that Jungkook wipes away instantly with a soft caress to your chin.

“You’re so cute”, he whispers, making you roll your eyes fondly.

He retreats his hand, touching your exposed collarbone instead. 

“I’ll get on top of you for now. Is that okay?” 

“Yeah, it’s okay.”

“Good, that’s good”, Jungkook says and climbs on bed, claiming his spot right atop your lap. His slacks are struggling around his thighs and butt, stretching to their limit. The view is seriously making your mouth water. 

Jungkook sits down on you. Nicely heavy and warm. That’s how he feels. And weirdly enough, he feels in charge. Despite how normally submissive he is in this position, tonight he feels in charge and you are starting to enjoy it more and more. At least for tonight. He is so hot when he is bossy. 

Your eyes flit from his meaty thighs to his hands. He is currently fixing the rolled up sleeves of his shirt, making sure that you get the perfect view of his lower arms and working fingers. He ends it by running his fingertips down his own skin, rocking back and forth on you just once. 

He is so hot without even trying. No wonder you’re so irrevocably in love with him.

He lowers himself, hands coming to rest on each side of your head and dark eyes running over your face.

“You’re so pretty”, he rasps.

“And you’re drooling.”

“Mhm proudly”, he says, giving you a cute grin, “I’ll start to open your shirt now and I’ll touch you as I do. Are you ready?”

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

“Good. Relax for me, my love. You’re in good hands”, he whispers and sits up, placing his hands on your tummy to feel up your torso. He stops once he reaches the collar of your shirt, hooking his fingers in it to tug it open. 

And so it begins. The addicting game of undress. Jungkook goes slow, eyes running over your body adoringly and fingers tracing your skin ever so often.

“I love it when you wear my shirts”, he whispers in a raspy voice.

“I know, you’re not good at hiding it”, you say, gazing at him.

“Who said I wanna hide it?”

“Hah. Sweet talker.”

“Mh-hm yeah”, he lets out and lowers his lips to your neck. He kisses the tender spot where your neck meets your collarbone. You find yourself sighing his name because of it, rolling your head to the side to give him better access. 

One Jungkook takes gladly, trailing his kisses along your neck while his fingers feel up your upper sides. His touch tickles in an amazing way. 

“You’re so beautiful”, he whispers, “I’m so lucky. Seriously so lucky”, you adds and swirls his tongue down your neck. 

“Ah”, you let out at the sensation, writhing in bliss. His tongue is so wet and warm, leaving behind a tingling cold sensation where the air hits your skin. 

Jungkook wraps his lips around a spot on your upper chest and sucks. It feels gentle at first until a small sting shoots through you. 

“Kookie”, you let out and luckily for you, Jungkook slips his lips from your skin to kiss a loving trail down to your breasts.

“My queen”, he whispers, “you’re mine. All mine. I love my queen so much”, he says and lifts his gaze to look at you.

“I love you too”, you tell him with a fluttering tummy. 

“Heh”, he lets out and lowers himself back to your chest, “my love, can I worship your breasts?”

“Yes, you can.”

“Thank you, you are so beautiful. I wanna make you feel so good”, he whispers and begins kissing your skin. He moans and sighs as he does, running his hands over your curves and rocking his hips back and forth on your lap. 

It feels so good. He is so gentle in his touches and loving in his kisses. Every second with him feels like a dream. A warm and safe dream. By the time Jungkook lifts his lips from your chest for the first time, you are so charged in pleasure that you actually whine.

“What was that?” he asks, tracing your ribs right under your breasts.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” he smiles boyishly, “are you sure? Because it sounded like a whine to me.”

He makes you frown and pout. He chuckles because of it, wiggling his hips.

“You’re a tease”, you get out and arch your back, “fuck Kookie, my nipples are sensitive.”

“I know, they’re really swollen too”, he says and rubs his fingers against them. The touch makes you arch into him again, forcing your lips to produce a soft moan. Jungkook circles his hips and moans with you, “that feels so good. Your nipples are so, so pretty.”

“Kook, seriously”, you sigh, “it’s driving me insane.”

“It’s starting to work, doesn’t it?”

“What does?”

“My plan to ruin you.”

You open your eyes, sending him a look. Jungkook snickers because of it, giving you a playful smile. 

“Look at you enjoying this”, you murmur, “so mean.”

He snickers with even more boyishness in his eyes, sliding his hands to your waist and leaning some of his weight on you. 

“Are you still enjoying it?”

“I am. A lot.”

“That’s so nice to hear. Oh Mommy, I’m so happy”, he says and leans down to smooch your lips. He cups your cheeks, rubbing his nose against yours as he wiggles his hips, “do you really like it a lot?”

“Yes, I really do. You feel so good.”

“Oh god, Mommy”, he giggles, “that makes me so, so happy. I wanna be such a good Dom to you, Mommy.”

“You’re cute, Bunny. Also, I thought I’m not your Mommy tonight?”

“Oh”, Jungkook lifts his head, blinking at you with widened eyes, “I uh…”

You laugh, “don’t worry, love. I’m just gonna act like you didn’t say that.”

“God”, he lowers his eyes shyly, “thank you. I can’t stop calling you that. It comes so natural to me.”

“It’s alright. You’re still in charge, don’t worry.”

“Okay, okay”, he grins cutely, “I want to do the next step to you.”

“Okay? What do you wanna do?”

“I wanna use the juice to get my mouth colder and then run it over your body”, his eyes shift to your nipples, his thumbs draw light circles on them, “especially your nipples”, he adds in a breathy whisper.

“That’s hot, do it”, you allow him, arching into his touch.

“Okay. Stay, don’t go anywhere”, he says and snickers at his joke as he climbs off your lap.

“Stupid noodle”, you murmur, smiling to yourself.

He skips back to the bed in happy steps and sits down on your lap again. He carries the flute of juice in his left hand, lifting it to his lips to take a sip. He swallows it, keeping up eye contact as he does. Once done, he smiles, letting out a soft chuckle.

You retort it, arching into his hand as he runs it over your torso. He cradles your breasts and massages them gently.

“The juice is so yummy”, he says and leans down to dance his cold lips over your chest.

“Mhhm”, you purr, closing your eyes in pleasure. His fingers are so warm, his touch so hot and yet his lips are so cold. The contrast of sensations makes you tingle like crazy.

Jungkook sits up and takes another sip. He keeps just enough in his mouth so he could wrap his lips round your nipple and make you feel the sensation. Wet and cold. Goosebumps form on your chest because of it. The tingle snakes all the way down to your pussy.

“God”, you chuckle, squirming desperately, “that’s cold. Hah.”

Jungkook swallows the juice, ending it by sucking on your nipple. You are so goddamn sensitive already that you have to close your legs and rub them together.

“Bunny…”

Jungkook lifts his lips, moaning softly. He looks up at you with sparkly eyes, smiling sweetly. 

“You’re so sweet”, he says, “I love your nipples so much.”

“You’re such a tease”, you whisper.

Jungkook scrunches his nose and sits up. He lifts the flute of juice and guides it over your tummy. 

“This isn’t gonna go well”, you tell him, watching with a dizzy head.

He tilts the glass.

“Bunny, listen to me. It’s gonna go everywhere.”

But Jungkook doesn’t listen. He tilts the flute and lets the juice trickle down onto your tummy. It goes well at first until it gets too much and the juice escapes down your sides. 

“Oh no”, he gasps, leaning down quickly to slurp it up from your tummy. 

“See?” you laugh, “you stupid noodle, you should have listened. I know what’s up.”

Jungkook slurps one last time, then licks up and down your tummy with the flat of his tongue. You have to be honest, that shit feels amazing. Cold at first until his hot mouth warms you up again.

He guides his mouth to your lower tummy, nibbling at your tenderness with his teeth tugged behind his lips. You squirm and giggle. 

Jungkook lifts his head, grinning up at you.

“This was all part of my plan”, he very obviously lies, “I wanted the juice to go everywhere so I can lick your tummy.”

“Mhm sure”, you say sarcastically and snicker, “you’re such a stupid noodle.”

“Heh”, he lets out and sits up. There is one sip left in the glass. He decides to trickle it over your tummy again. It spills again, making you chuckle and glance at him. He does the same, “all part of the plan.”

“Sure.”

Jungkook grins and leans down, slurping up the sweet juice while his hands run up and down your sides. The empty glass he discarded on the bed for now. 

Once clean again, he guides his eager tongue up to your breasts. His mouth is warmed up by now, it feels like fire around your nipples as he sucks and licks them. One at a time with equal amounts of attention shared between them. 

And while he does, he is rolling his hips on your lap, squeezing his thighs around you needily. He is even whimpering like the natural babyboy he is. If you weren’t so tied up and ruined in desperation, you would have grabbed him and flipped him to give him the fuck he deserved. 

But you aren’t in control tonight. At least, you pretend to be. 

“Jungkook more”, and so you beg, feeling not an ounce of shame in doing so. He makes you feel so safe that it doesn’t feel weird to beg. 

Jungkook lifts his puffy lips from your equally as puffy nipples. His fingers continue to play with them even when he sits up. His hips wiggle and roll against you, his butt is stuck out as he arches his back. 

This whole situation really is one big roleplay, you think as you watch him pose so instinctively submissive. 

“Did you just beg?” he asks, melting you with it. He is so cute.

“And if I did?” you answer him, thrusting your hips up. Jungkook squeaks and moans, pressing his thighs together. Cute. He is so adorable, “I need more, please.”

“Oh god”, he chokes out and wiggles his hips, “okay. Yes”, he nods his head vigorously and gives your nipples a soft pinch.

The sensation makes you sigh and arch your back.

“I want to use a rabbit on you”, he smiles with his eyes, “not me, an actual rabbit vibe.”

You roll your eyes, “you stupid noodle, that joke was terrible”, you say with a fond grin. 

“Hehe”, he lets out and leans down, forcing heat to rise to your cheeks from just how seductive he suddenly looks. Playful and terribly cute, but still very seductive, “can I use a toy on you, please?”

“Yes you can”, you whisper, eyes hypnotised by his lips. They are so wet and puffy from sucking your nipples. And so pink. You want to kiss him so fucking bad.

“Thank you. Now stay here, I’ll get the toy”, he says, kissing your forehead once before climbing off bed and strutting to the big toy wall. He discards the glass on a table while he is at it.

You and he are very proud of your collection. It took a few years to get it where it is today and you are still not done. Each toy has its separate compartment, while your more aesthetic toys even have their own display case. The rabbit vibrator was a White Day present from Jungkook. Dark pink and soft silicone. The toy is both controlled by buttons and over its very own app. Sometimes when Jungkook is on a business trip and you have sex over a video call, you use said rabbit to get off while Jungkook is the one controlling the pattern. Obviously he knows that he can only get his very own reward if he gives you a good pattern and until now, he has never disappointed. 

Jungkook closes the drawer and returns to the bed, but not before grabbing your favourite lube. 

You also use the rabbit to jerk off whenever Jungkook is not in the mood for sex or you are too lazy to ask him and need simple, quick relief. And on your most favourite occasions, you use the toy to get off Jungkook, stuffing his ass with it and using its curve to torture his prostate while the smaller side presses against his balls. Jungkook shakes like crazy whenever you do that.

Jungkook places the lube bottle and toy next to you on the mattress. He touches your legs, running his palms down to your ankles.

“Ready?”

“For what?”

“That”, he says, grabs you by your ankles and pulls your legs apart.

You squeak right along with your feet as they slide over the PVC cover.

“Jungkook why?” you laugh, “oh my fucking god.”

“I’m sorry, it’s always so hot when you do it. Did you not like it?”

“I did, don’t worry, just fuck. You’re better at that than I thought you would be.”

Jungkook grins cockily, “what can I say? I’m a natural.”

“You’re a stupid noodle that’s what you are”, you say with a fond giggle.

“Yeah…I like being your stupid noodle. It makes you laugh. I love making you laugh.”

“God Kookie, you’re so cute.”

“Heh”, he lets out and places himself between your open legs. He places the rabbit on your tummy, resting his hand on the sheets next to your pussy. Then he flashes you a cute smile, “you’re pretty.”

“God Kookie, I love you so much which is why I’m gonna tell you something now. Hurry the fuck up”, you say and groan, bucking your hips up in desperation.

He laughs, wiggling his shoulders.

“It’s not fun is it?” he teases and kisses your knee, “now you know how I feel when you tease me.”

“If I knew you would use tonight as a revenge scheme I’d have said no”, you joke, making his laughter grow.

He smooches your other knee then flashes you a smile.

“I’ll get started, yeah?” he says.

“Yeah”, you stress, opening your legs further.

Despite his words, Jungkook takes his sweet time in getting the toy ready. He picks it up from your tummy and spreads lube over its silicon shaft as slowly as possible, all while his pretty doe eyes switch between the toy and your face.

“Kook…” you warn.

He looks at you and smiles, “patience. I’m almost done.”

“You’re such a tease.”

He doesn’t say anything to that. He merely smiles and connects his lubed up fingers with your pussy.

You hiss at the contact, rolling your hips into his touch. It feels like ecstasy to be touched by him. His fingers are so gentle and know exactly where to touch.

“You’re so wet”, he lulls, massaging your pussy in slow circles. First your clit and folds, then he lingers on your entrance.

“Fuck, baby”, you moan softly.

Jungkook slips his fingers inside, forcing your body to shudder in pleasure. The breach feels so good that you have to grip the ropes and arch your back. Jungkook watches it happening with his cock straining his slacks. He didn’t dare to imagine you twisting ropes like this and yet here you are, twisting the ropes because of how good he makes you feel. He swallows down the mewl threatening to escape him and instead channels his desperation into curling his fingers just right.

“That feels so good”, you sigh, rolling your head to the side, “fuck.”

“I love this so much”, he confesses with his voice trembling, “you’re so soft.”

“More.”

Jungkook smiles because you are twisting the ropes again and you don’t even notice it. He’s really got you desperate, hasn’t he? He feels his heart flutter and his tummy turn in desire. This is so sexy to him.

He slips his fingers free, even if you whine, and guides the vibrator to your pussy. Your whines stops, desperate breathing replaces them.

“Take a deep breath for me”, he orders in a soft voice, listening to the way your breath hitches in your throat. He puts gentle pressure on your pussy and slips inside.

“Jungkook”, you release your breath in a moan of his name, clenching around the toy with your fingers closing around the ropes again.

“Keep breathing, my love. Keep breathing”, Jungkook talks you through it, staring at your pussy with dilated pupils. She looks so pretty around the toy, fitting right around it. As if you were made for it. Jungkook squeezes his legs together and pushes the last two inches inside, “done. How are you?”

“Turn it on, please.”

“Did you just beg again?”

“Fuck, shut up and do it”, you throw back in a chuckle, sending him a look.

Jungkook snickers, scrunching his nose up, “you’re so cute”, he says and presses the on button. The toy begins purring and humming, sending vibrations through your pussy.

“Holy shit”, your eyes roll back and fall closed, your legs open further, “Jungkook….”

“That’s it. Relax”, he speaks in whispers, moving the toy back and forth carefully, “how’s that, my love?”

“Good, really good just…move the clit part a little to the left.”

Jungkook fixes the position, “like this?”

“Yes”, you groan, rolling your hips up, “yes there. Keep that going. Jungkook, right there.”

“This makes me so hard”, he confesses in a mewl. He gets on his knees, squeezing his cock between his thighs this way. He keeps rubbing them together, finding relief that way. He knows that it’s not the most dominant position, but he can’t help himself. He loves it so much when he can serve you! He loves making you feel good, moan and shake. He loves it so much that he gets so horny that he just has to rub his cock against whatever is closest. And tonight his clothed thighs are the closest friction he can get and he chases it like a needy bunny while his hand never once messes up the rhythm of the toy.

It is not long and he has you arching your back for an orgasm. Your thighs are trembling and your fingers ache from twisting the ropes.

“Jungkook, I have to cum”, you confess in a moan, readying yourself for the amazing high with bated breath. You just know that the orgasm is going to feel like heaven. He managed to rile you up so much that it will consume your entire body. You can’t wait to have it.

In three, two…

Jungkook removes the toy from your pussy and turns it off. The fire dies down, agony replaces it.

“What the hell?” you groan, writhing in pain, “holy fuck, did you just edge me?”

Your eyes meet. While you are genuinely shocked by what just happened, Jungkook seems proud of himself.

“Yeah”, he says.

“What the fuck?”

He laughs, wiggling his shoulders. 

“No seriously, what the fuck? Why would you do that?” you press out. He never edged you without your orders before. This is a fucking first and goddamn, it riles you up.

“Because I can”, he throws back and grins.

“You are. So. Mean”, you get out and drop your head, “holy shit, I wanna cum.”

Jungkook snickers, running his hands down your thighs. He pushes them apart gently and lowers himself to your pussy. He plops down on his tummy and finally connects his mouth with your heat.

You flinch at the sudden wet warmth around your pussy, tugging at the ropes so aggressively that the rings jingle.

“Jungkook”, you choke out, “Jungkook, holy fuck.”

Jungkook mewls into you, lapping at your wet pussy with his sparkly eyes gazing up at you. You taste sweet like the lube he covered you in. He licks you until the taste has faded and only the amazing taste of your pleasure coats his tongue. He loves this taste so much more than the tacky artificial sweetness of lube.

He closes his arms around your thighs and tugs you closer, slurping deliciously as he drinks your taste.

“You’re fucking amazing”, you get out, writhing in pleasure, “I’m fucking serious, you’re amazing.”

Jungkook fucks the mattress because of your praise, moaning into your pussy desperately. He runs his palms up and down your tender thighs, soothing the shakes running through them each time he runs his eager tongue over your clit. He loves those shakes so much that he wants them to run through you constantly. He focuses his licks on your clit, switching between drawing circles and flicking the tip of his tongue up and down your swollen bundle of nerves. He knows that this drives you crazy.

“This is gonna make me cum”, you confess, shaking unapologetically.

Jungkook mewls and puts more pressure on your clit. He wants you to be as close to orgasming as possible. He has to get you as needy as you can get for what he has planned next. Your clit throbs under his tongue, but he knows not to pull back yet. It often throbs when he’s going down on you, this isn’t an indicator yet. In your beginnings, Jungkook often pulled back when you began throbbing under his tongue because he thought that you would orgasm, but years and years of practice and routine taught him that this wasn’t a sign yet. You just have a very reactive clit. Especially when his mouth is involved.

Jungkook listens to the noises you make. They are currently loud and filled with desperation. Good. That means he can still continue. You get quieter, the closer you get, because you always start holding your breath when you are about to orgasm. Jungkook knows that much. 

He speeds up his licks and moans into you so can feel the vibrations. 

“Oh, ah-”, you twist the ropes and hold your breath. 

Now.

Jungkook breaks away.

“Oh my fucking god, you didn’t just- urgh”, you groan and thrust your hips against nothing, “how did you know?”

Jungkook feels so incredibly proud right now. He knows you so well!

“Years of practice”, he says. He tries his hardest to sound dominant and confident, but his voice is shaking like crazy because of how happy he feels.

“This is the worst. Why do you know me so well?” you murmur and whine, “please Kookie, do something again.”

“No”, he says, hoping for one more beg.

“Yes?” you throw back, “please”, you add, meaning it honestly.

Jungkook giggles, “I love it when you beg”, he says. He sits up and reaches for the vibrator. 

“Yes. This”, you murmur, eyeing it hungrily.

He spreads new lube on it and your pussy and pushes it back inside, turning it on.

“Yes this”, you moan, rolling your head from side to side, “this is….ah.”

Jungkook makes minimal movements with the toy. He wants it to keep pressing against your g-spot because he knows that he’s got you horny enough that this is what you need. You love it so much when he goes deep and slow whenever you’re far enough into the sex. It’s those moments where you pull him closer with your legs when you’re doing it missionary and those moments where you grind down on him when you’re riding him. Jungkook can hear it in the way your moans leave you.

“Does that feel good?” he rasps.

“It feels so good”, you moan, circling your hips as you keep chasing the pleasure.

Jungkook mewls and looks at your pussy. He just noticed that your clit isn’t getting stimulated. He quickly fixes the position of the toy, forcing your hips to thrust into the sensation.

“Holy shit”, you press out under your breath and then you begin to grow more and more silent as you hold your breath for longer and longer.

Jungkook circles the toy.

Silence. You are holding your breath.

Jungkook removes the toy.

“Noo Bunny, can’t you let Mommy cum?” you whine, writhing on the sheets. 

“I’m sorry Mommy, I can’t”, Jungkook says, putting the now turned off toy on the sheets.

“Fucking hell urgh”, you groan, chasing his fleeing touch as your fingers twist the ropes.

Jungkook soothes the agony by running his hands up and down your inner thighs, placing soft kisses on your knee. 

“Sorry Mommy, so sorry”, he whispers.

“No you’re not, you’re enjoying this”, you grumble. 

Jungkook snickers, climbing on top of you. He places his hands on each side of your head, gazing down at you. He is arching his back. Even now when he is the one charge, he finds himself in such a fuckable posture naturally. 

“Can you tell me your colour?” he asks, rocking back and forth mindlessly. 

“Green, but a really edged green.” 

He scrunches his nose up, giggles. You chuckle, gazing at him.

“You’re so funny”, he says, booping your nose with his finger.

You shake him off, huffing out air as you pretend to be angry. You even furrow your brows at him.

“Make me cum, you brat”, you grumble.

Jungkook snickers and kisses your forehead, “you calling me like that doesn’t work on me tonight.”

“Hmpf, you meanie”, you mumble.

“I’m sorry”, he coos and turns on your body so you have his clothed cock right above your face.

“Really?” you laugh, oggling it hungrily. It is a miracle to you how his slacks still manage to contain his cock. It is filling up his left pant leg, bulging the fabric painfully. Poor boy must be in so much pain right now. You gulp, yearning for his cock in your mouth. He must be so wet by now. You want him running down your throat and throbbing against your tongue.

“Get naked and let me suck your pretty cock”, you order.

“No”, Jungkook throws back and wiggles his hips teasingly. He knows exactly what he is doing. 

“You’re such a brat. Do as you’re told.”

“I don’t have to do anything”, he snickers cutely, “I’m in charge.”

“Wow”, you laugh and writhe, “fuck, you drive me insane.”

“I know”, Jungkook throws back and wiggles his hips one last time. You growl and try to snatch him by lifting your head, but he moves away. Your eyes meet. He looks so full of mischief and entertainment. The giggles he lets out are indicator enough just how much he enjoys being a little brat tonight. And you can’t even be mad at him, because he is in charge and can do whatever he wants. Oh, you are crazy for this man. 

“Once I’m free again, you’ll see what this gets you”, you mumble and huff out air. 

“Mhm okay”, he purrs and grins. Then he turns away again. He arches his back and lowers himself to your pussy.

“Bunny”, you gasp, arching into him. This feels like heaven. His mouth is so warm and wet, his lips are so soft. 

Jungkook grips your hips and tilts them up, moaning around your clit as he sucks on her needily. He moves his head as he sucks, rubbing his cute nose through your folds as best as the position allows him to.

“Yes Bunny. Fuck, that feels so good.”

He loves sixty-nining with you so much. Bear in mind, his favourite variation of the position is when he is tied up, blindfolded and plugged up while you smother him and suck his cock. This is what really gets him going, but this right now is heaven as well. You taste like lube again, but Jungkook cleans it off within a few seconds. Then your unfiltered, raw taste coats his tongue and Jungkook finds himself moaning around your clit even louder.

“Holy fuck, please don’t stop.”

Jungkook doesn’t know if he could stop again. You taste so good that he feels dizzy. He wanted to edge you with his mouth one more time and then make you cum with the vibrator, but he doesn’t know if he has the strength to do that. Jealousy stings in his chest when he thinks about making you climax with a toy. He doesn’t want the toy to be the thing which sends you off. He wants to be the one making you see stars. He wants you to fall silent in bliss because of his mouth and not because of a stupid toy.

Jungkook growls into you and furrows his brows. It’s decided then. The toy won’t get your orgasm, never ever. He will make you cum with his mouth. Yes, that’s it.

“I’m close”, you get out and whimper, “please Jungkook, don’t edge me anymore.”

You aren’t aware that your begging is useless. Jungkook already made up his mind. He is going to make you cum. He growls around your clit, sucking it between his lips harshly. And he keeps it right there, suckling on it with his cock throbbing in his slacks. So good. You taste so good.

“Jungkook”, you mewl, sounding so utterly ruined, “Jungkook, you’re making me cum.”

He whimpers, dimpling your hips as he grips them harder.

“Ah”, you let out and then grow silent.

Jungkook mewls at the realisation, concentrating all of his attention on the spot which made you go silent.

“Fuck. Now”, you press out and thrust your hips up. The knot in your tummy bursts, the hottest orgasm takes a hold of you, “Jungkook”, you moan loudly, shaking uncontrollably. As much as you hate to admit it, you are glad that he edged you because this is paradise. You haven’t felt your climax as deeply as you do right now in ages. This is the kind of high which genuinely makes your toes curl and which makes your muscles go limb.

Jungkook licks you through it, keening in a high pitched voice as his head pounds in pleasure. This was the best decision ever. You feel so good when you are climaxing on his tongue. He can barely stop himself after your high died down, whimpering your name as he kisses your pussy over and over again. 

“Well shit, holy shit. Fuck”, you get out in breathy pants for air. Your body refuses to move, your head is turning. You feel so goddamn fulfilled. This was incredible.

Jungkook guides his kisses up your torso, crawling off of you gradually. He grabs your face and kisses you in the unfamiliar position. With your heads facing opposite directions, he has to suck on your upper lip.

You snicker and moan. It never gets boring with him. 

“Hm”, Jungkook hums and breaks the kiss with a cute smile. He runs his thumbs over your cheeks, gazing down at you. 

“Did you like this?” he asks.

“I loved it.”

“Then you have to thank me.”

You lift your brows, “really?”

“Yeah”, he says in a giggle, nodding his head.

“Wow okay”, you smile fondly, “thank you, Jungkook.”

Jungkook snickers and scrunches his nose up, “you’re welcome”, he says and pulls your face into a big smooch. 

Just once because then he sits up and runs his hands to your tied wrists. He opens the ropes and handcuffs, picking up your freed wrists to caress them gently.

“Does anything hurt?” he asks.

“No, nothing hurts.”

“Good”, he rolls circles into the tender inner side of your wrists, “you kept twisting the ropes”, he says and sends you a boyish grin.

“I did not”, you lie, making him snicker.

“Yes, you did. Admit it, you were really desperate.”

“Mhm yeah I was”, you admit happily, basking in the giddy giggles he lets out. 

You sit up and turn around. Now you are both kneeling, facing each other. You run your hands up his thighs, waist and chest until you can cup his cheeks. Jungkook squirms because of the touch.

“You did an amazing job, Bunny”, you praise him, “I was only that desperate because I felt safe.”

“Mommy”, he whimpers, gripping your wrists, “this is everything I wanted you to feel. I’m so happy.” 

“I’m happy too, my love”, you tell him and lean in to kiss his cheek, “good job, my love.” 

Jungkook giggles and hugs you, swaying your bodies from side to side enthusiastically.

“Oh Mommy, I’m so happy”, he confesses, squeezing you gently, “and, and now I’ll take you out for dinner and, and treat you to yummy dessert.”

“Yeah? What about your cock? You’re so hard in your slacks”, you say, running your hand up and down his bulge.

“I want to go out with it”, he talks breathily because of the touch, “you can do whatever you think is right to do. In the restaurant or the car or, or wherever you think is fitting.”

You smirk, “mhm okay”, you purr, kissing his neck gently, “so I take it that order has been restored, mhm?”

He giggles and nods his head, “yes Mommy.”

[cinamintyy]

Hello! I was wondering if you could do a small request? I was thinking of Capitano with an s/o who’s a dragon? Like just a normal dragon that can turn into a human(like Nuvulett<don’t remember how to spell my hydro dragons name) and there the last of there kind?(By that I mean born a dragon and went into hiding because of over hunting also By dragon form look at the dragons from House of the dragon for some inspo) how do you think he’d react to seeing his s/o’s dragon form for the first time and having a flight? Lest not forget to deep snoring…if not that’s alright I just wanted to put this out there.

Capitano has me in a chokehold I swear

Capitano x Dragon reader:

A/N:Sry this is late, but I love this idea sm. I'm just clearing out my inbox for these next days.

CW: Dragon reader, hybrid reader, minor character death.

It was cruel how all of those you knew were taken from you, simply for sport. Killed and taken apart for wings or horns as trophies. You saw all this happening and decided this would not happen to you, so you hid, amongst the humans. You hid any feature that would identify to those hunters you were a dragon, something the rest of your kind couldn't or refused to do. You wouldn't end up hanging on the wall, so you abandoned who you used to be. You didn't have a home, but you eventually decided to settle in Natlan. The pilgrimage wasn't an interest of yours it never was, either way, you weren't from Natlan so you couldn't join. For the stories you told and how wise you were, I mean, you did live a few hundred years. The smaller children especially enjoyed your "made-up" stories of dragons and flying through the sky at extremely high altitudes and speeds. To be fair, your life was going pretty peaceful.

One day, you were at a bar just to get a quick drink when this larger-than-average man who was fully covered in armour sat next to you and ordered a drink. He piqued your curiosity, so you started small talk, but it's safe to say he was a brick wall. You continued to have determination and persisted in talking to him. Capitano was honestly impressed at your persistence and decided to humor you. You both met at the same bar every day to talk. He loved the wise energy you emanated. To be honest, he became smitten, he loved seeking you for advice. But one thing that ate at you was the fact Capitano didn't know the actual you. The fact you were a dragon, the closer you both, the bigger the urge you had to tell him was. You need stress relief and what better way to relieve yourself than to take flight? Just the way you used to, at the very same heights and altitudes. What you didn't know was Capitano knew something was wrong, to him you acted 'odd' and kinda standoffish. He was about to visit you so he could what was up with you when he saw you headed somewhere else. Which just so you know this was at night so it was quite odd, he decided that instead of asking you where you were heading he would just follow you. Secretive? He knew, but what if someone was harming you and you were keeping it secret from him? If it was harmless he would leave knowing you were fine. You decided to take a quick fly around the outskirts of Natlan at night, if any people saw you they would just be seen as having a screw loose. C'mon, this was Natlan, the only place where someone would most likely just see a dragon flying around was Mondstadt. Unbeknownst to you, Capitano saw the whole thing, from you transforming, to you flying, and to you landing back down. You had only realized he saw you afterward. "I apologize, I feel as though I've intruded on you, you've been acting quite odd as of late, and I thought I should follow you to make sure no one was hurting you. I truly apologize I was too forward in my actions." He said to you bowing slightly to show how apologetic he was. You cursed yourself for being so careless silently before replying. "It's alright you had good intentions, either way, you were going to find out one way or another. I am, as you can see, a dragon." Capitano stared in silence before finding his words "A beautiful one I might add, I quite enjoyed seeing you soar through the air." You blushed at the words, "So you're not angry that I've kept such a secret from you?" You asked. "Goodness no, it's understandable why one would keep such a thing, but I'm glad I now know." You let out a sigh of relief at his words. "Perhaps one day you should take me out flying, I think I'd enjoy it." He said proposing an idea for a next date.

Perhaps you would take him outside flying, you think you would enjoy it as well.

[schoenpepper]

Signed

Intro: If you were going to go through all that trouble with hurting yourself, he might as well help you~

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, yandere, gore-ish, reader is yuu, mentions of self harm, blood, jade is a warning in and of himself, not proofread, kinda short

A/N: For @kiraiyugen on my event, that is finally DONE THANK FUCK. Alright, see you guys laterrrr

Masterlist

Jade adores you, truly.

There’s something about the way you mill about in this big new world; it draws him to you. Like a fish caught in a line. Like a mermaid trapped in a fisherman’s net. Like a shark smelling blood.

He adores you so, so very much, darling.

But you keep avoiding him.

He feels a bit hurt. Are you still not over the sea anemone incident? It was just a harmless little prank, and no real harm was done. Does he scare you? Are you afraid of him? His lips stretch into a wide grin, sharp teeth bared and glinting ominously under the cerulean-mauve lights of the lounge. 

You shouldn’t be afraid of your soulmate.

“Why’s the prefect your soulmate, Jade~?” Floyd asks nonchalantly, and he can feel even Azul’s eyes boring into him, one brow raised as if asking the same question. His smile reverts back to one of polite pleasantry as he folds his hands in front of his lap. “They have the scar, of course. Right on their nape,” a long and thin faded scar that Jade had carved into his own skin back when he was a child, oh so thoroughly enthralled by the idea of having someone made just for him, “it could’ve been quite hard to miss, but thankfully, I had caught quite the clear glimpse.”

The conversation comes to a close when you step into the lounge. Alone. All too helpless.

The three share a look.

Floyd grins lazily, Azul sighs and turns away, whereas Jade picks up the tea he’d prepared just for you, carrying it over to your table. “For you, my dear. It seems you’ve been quite stressed recently,” he says with a smile, placing the teacup before you, “it’s not often I see you without your friends.” The topic seems to be a sore spot by the way you pull back, glancing at him warily though your lashes.

“Thank you…but that seems to be none of your business.”

Perhaps he shouldn’t have mentioned your friends?

After all, it must be hard feeling isolated when all the people you’d gotten close to in this world have been scared off.

“I see. Then I’ll leave you to it.”

Jade walks off without ever losing his smile.

The night is quiet, and at some point, only you are left in the lounge, sleeping soundly with your head atop the table. He steps closer to see your pretty face all scrunched up from nightmare-filled dreams. Are you thinking of all the people that you believe have abandoned you? Are you thinking about the old world you can never go back to? Are you thinking of the too-frequent overblots in this school, or perhaps the fact that you’re never really out of danger?

He gently takes your body up into a princess carry, one arm tucked beneath your knees and the other cradling your back, his lips leaving a fleeting kiss between your brows. Floyd barely looks up from the video game on his phone. Azul sends him a warning glare before going back to his stack of contracts to read through and verify. The only one truly against his plan is the soft muted voice at the back of his mind. It’s probably his conscience, so he doesn’t really need to listen to it. Morals are disposable.

You are not.

You are beyond being an option to choose above mortal values; you are the better half of his long-corrupted soul. His caress is as cautious as it is vicious; laying you down onto the soft mattress of his bed when his plans indicate no salvation for you tonight. Only his. The warmth of your skin against his palms promises him that he can find his deliverance within you.

But all that Jade can give you in return is sin.

And thus, he will give it to you in gluttonous abundance.

He slips off your jacket and pulls up the long sleeves of your uniform shirt up to your elbows. As expected, you were the cause of his recent plight; of dozens of deep and shallow overlapping scars that decorated the insides of his arms down to his wrists. “So beautiful,” he murmurs, trailing his fingertips over the fresher wounds, “and yet, so unfair. It’s not just your skin darling, you ought to take better care of it.”

No one’s told you about the soulmate connection yet?

Such lovely ignorance.

Jade knows for a fact that you wouldn’t have done such a thing if you had known what it did to other people. You’ve always been a kind, generous soul, haven’t you? You would pity your soulmate for the wrongs you’ve carved into their skin, surely, crystalline tears running down your cheeks.

“If you want to mark yourself so much, let me help you~”

You wouldn’t be waking up for another few hours, so there are no fearful screams when Jade brandishes a small, thin knife.

“Where shall I put it, darling?”

Your friends have been restless again lately, refusing to heed his warnings. Then perhaps, he ought to mark you somewhere a little more prominent?

He digs the knife into your flesh.

The next time you wake up back in your own room, there’s a still-bleeding inscription right below your collarbone, etched into your skin like a signature; in elegant script as if written with a pen dipped in blood,

Jade Leech

[endereies]

ADDICTED TO YOU

Pairing: Chris x Reader

Contains: Sub!Chris (kinda), Drug-usage (be smart people), Blowjob, Hair pulling, don't like - don't read. Let me know if i missed anything<3

Requested?: no

Author's notes: This is my first time writing smut so I hope it's good loll

Word Count: 2975

I had been to many parties in my life, fuck, I hosted half of them. But I never did anything crazy. I only provided, sometimes that drove me crazy. People around me were constantly inhaling smoke and I could only sit back and watch as the small embers burn and lit up in the cherry, making their faces glow against the night.

I had never had the urge to smoke and watching everyone get high was always an experience, typically leading to me taking care of everyone and making sure no one ever went overboard.

I was stressed.

-

I had been forced by some random kids at my college to host another party, only as a gateway to sell drugs to other students who shared the same cravings. It was a constant I was forced to adapt to, whether I liked it or not.

I had the same few people come up to me and most of the time the conversations reached around the same bends.

Most.

Chris has always managed to drag me in to some sort of long conversation, it made me feel like I wasn’t just used as a gateway to safely get high. Even if he had tried to convince me one or twice…

-

“Cmon y/n, you have never even wondered what it is like?” I had tried to walk to my lessons a long time ago but Chris had caged me in his presence enough that I had given up ten minutes ago.

“Of course I have wondered, but I don’t care enough to go along with anything.” I roll my eyes at him and try to turn away but he grabs my wrists and twists my body back towards him again.

“We both know that isn’t true” I provide him with a lack of a response and I raise an eyebrow at him.

“I’ve seen you at those parties, your eyes trace the blunts every single time. It’s the one thing you pay attention to other than those people who beg for ‘secret spots’ in your house.

“The fuck do you know, you are always out your mind whenever I see you. Nate had to drag you out last time.” I cross my arms over my chest, hoping he will try and drop the subject soon.

“I had a new kind, ma. That ain’t fair…” He feigns a pout, not holding it for long without any giggles.

“Whatever, look. Just be at my place at seven. I’m hosting.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” He leaves with that same stupid grin on his face.

-

The party had started an hour ago and I had landed myself in the gardens outside faster than I would’ve liked. My tie hung loosely around my neck and the top button of my shirt was undone. Already, someone had thrown up in front of me. Definitely the effects of previous substances but it was enough to dampen my mood and force me for some fresh air.

“Hey ma, nice outfit. Shame you chose outside as your runway.” I hear Chris’s voice from in front of me but I don’t bother enough to respond in the same manner as him.

“What.”

“You alright y/n?” He kneels down, his knees meeting to damp grass just so that he can see my face, full of mixed emotions.

“Some bitch nearly threw up on me, thankfully she didn’t but I can’t say the same to the houseplants.” I sigh and look away from him.

“Already?” My head nods in response.

“Well…Why are you out here then?” His voice seems gentler and calmer, noticing his normal attitude won’t get him anywhere.

“The smell was strong; the people are pissing me off and I have a headache from the shit music they are playing on repeat. But that’s nothing new…”

“Mind if I smoke?” He practically ignores the last sentences I give him and pulls out a poorly wrapped blunt that seems like it’s been stuffed into his pocket for a little bit too long.

“Whatever.”

He takes one of the garden chairs and drags it over the grass to sit close to me. As close as the seats would allow before the metal legs scrapped each other.

A small spark emits from an old red lighter before it glows with an orange flame. The light breeze shakes it and weakens the strength, making it have to stay alight longer before it managed to light the blunt. Chris holds the blunt between his lips, holding it there while putting the lighter in his pocket, inhaling weakly. It takes a few seconds before a cloud of smoke exits between Chris’s lips.

I didn’t mean to stare but the way the fire lights up his face in the dark was somewhat mesmerising. I could just be the awful night I was having but everything just seemed so much more appealing.

I suddenly grab the blunt from Chris’s hand and place it in between my own fingers and bring it to my lips and breath in. Big mistake.

I don’t even get a change to hold in the smoke before it exits my lungs harshly, scrapping my throat as it arises.

“Woah woah, y/n. Jesus are you okay?” His touch immediately burns into my back as he soothes it with his palm. “Take it easy…”

I can’t respond to him without producing weak coughs.

“If you really want to do it, I can show you?”

I’ve definitely had a shit day if I am really debating getting high. I don’t want to openly admit it so I nod my head slowly.

“Okay…I’ll show you how first, yeah?” I study his motions as he hollows out his cheeks slightly and allows more space to inhale, the ember’s light glows a little brighter when he breathes in. The blunt rests between his index and middle fingers and he draws it away from his mouth. Chris tilted his head away from mine and blows out the smoke into the cold air and I watch as it slowly disappears.

“Here.” His hand moves next to mine and I shakily grab the blunt.

Was I really doing this?

I bring it to my lips and exhale softly before placing it into my mouth.

“Try and relax and rest it just between your lips…” His voice trails off, putting his focus into adjusting my grip on the blunt.

“Like this?” My voice is meek as I try not to blow out the blunt.

“Better, ma. Now, inhale it slowly, once you feel a sting I want you to stop and hold it in.”

I try and take a long and deep breathe but the stinging comes sooner than later. I manage to hold it in my lungs for a few seconds before I’m forced to exhale quickly out of my nose with a slight cough. I shut my eyes as they start to water. Chris immediately takes the blunt from my fingers and I cough a little harsher now.

“There you go, not bad for your first time.” He smiles at me, taking the blunt between his own lips again while he waits for me to calm myself.

“That wasn’t as bad as the first time.” I shake my head as I cough one last time.

“This is a stronger one y/n, I’d rather you not take any huge amount of this, alright?” His tone isn’t as gentle and when he faces me his expression isn’t anything but serious.

“Yeah...sure.”

-

Chris and I had swapped between this blunt a few times and it had really started to hit me now, everything was dream-like. My vision lacked behind my brain and caused me to feel dizzy when I laughed too much or moved my head a little quickly. We kept on giggling to ourselves and playfully making jokes to one another.

“Fuck, I think I am feeling this now.” I smile pathetically at him, no longer being able to fully control my expressions.

“Yeah? Good. That’s when the good shit starts to happen, ma.” His eyes linger on mine as I take the blunt between my lips and take a deep inhale of the smoke. I watch his gaze fall to my lips even after the blunt is back in his hand again. When he looks back up a smirk is plastered on his face and I immediately try to compose myself.

Chris takes one final puff of smoke and put out the blunt, smashing it between the grass and the sole of his shoe. He looks over to me but I’m already staring at him.

“Everything okay?”

“You’re pretty.”

I don’t even think about the words I’m saying anymore to him, I’m too gone to care.

“Is that so?” He smiles sheepishly at my, gazing back down to my lips.

“Very much so. I’ve always noticed that.” A silence falls between us as we edge close to each other, his face only being a few inches away from mine.

I let out a shaky breath once I finally acknowledge the distance shortening between us.

“Do I make you nervous, y/n?”

The warmth of our breath mingled between us before our lips finally meet each other’s.

The gentle pressure was enough to make me lose my mind and send a shiver down my spine. Chris’s fingers wrapped around the edge of my jaw, pulling me slightly closer to him. His teeth graze my lower lips slightly and I open my mouth for him to gain better access. I feel him smile against me and the way his hand traced my arm had me intoxicated.

I slowly pull away from him, wanting to catch my breath and his gaze remains locked on my lips, slightly coated in his saliva. The fixation makes me instantly clench my thighs tightly together.

His palm rolls off my arm and places itself on to my hip, using his thumb to press small circles into my skin. He remains looking at me softly before placing his lips on mine again. I accept his touch almost instantly and I feel his hand that was on jaw snake around to the back of my neck, wanting to pull me closer.

He relaxed his body with the aid of the weed and sighed into the kiss. I laid my hands on to his thighs and slowly dragged them upwards. A deep sigh emits from him as my hands etch closer. He breaks the kiss and looks down to my palm, watching it with a dazed expression.

“Is this okay…?” I look down in the same direction as him and inch my hand so that I stop just below his dick.

He hums in response and nods his head eagerly, a tent clearly forming under his jeans.

Before I move my palm, he pulls my head towards me with his hand still on my neck and kisses me softly again. I use this to my advantage and I shift my hand so that I’m gently palming Chris through his clothing, but I don’t apply enough pressure for any major satisfaction. Even so, I earn a light whimper from Chris and it becomes harder to resist to apply more force.

“Please...don’t be a tease, ma.” His voice is gentle against my lips and I feel his warm breath on my skin, making me smile in to the kiss.

I was definitely being hit harshly with the effects of the weed, while I appreciated Chris’s appearance, I would never openly admit that. Let alone palm his dick, just after we kiss for the first time. I had always known that he was an attractive person and I often caught myself staring. And I bet he knew that too since he often caught me in a daydream while sheepishly smiling at him.

I find myself following his words and I break away from the kiss so that I can move from the chair to the wet grass beneath me.

His eyes look in to mine, practically begging me to touch him.

I keep my eyes on him while I brush my hands over his jeans and up towards his belt, slowly undoing it. I pull his jeans down past his waist and to his thighs.

I palm him again slowly and I see his head tilt backwards, making sure that I apply more pressure this time. I play with the waistband of his boxers and slowly pull them down to meet his jeans.

I stare at his dick and reality set in for a moment. Being high was mixing with my brain but at this point I was too far gone to care about that. It was something I would leave for future me to figure out.

I wasn’t going to overthink this and I just leant forward to kiss the tip of Chris’s dick and softly lick over it.

“Fuck…” His words fall softly from his lips in a whisper.

I continue to softly kiss the tip before licking a stripe down from his base to his tip and taking him in my mouth. A faint groan emits from Chris and his back arches slightly from the stimulation. He let his legs fall more to the sides which allowed me to etch closer. My mouth withdrawals from his cock and I smile at the hitched breath he takes from the loss of contact.

I swirl my tongue around my mouth whilst I gather saliva which drips off my tongue and falls on to the tip of his dick. It slowly flows down the side and I push the remaining amount down with my palm. My eyes fixate on Chris’s face and I drag my hand up and down his dick, torturingly slow. Looking back down towards me, Chris moans softly at the sound of my saliva over his skin, the weed making this experience more heightened for the both of us.

“Does this feel good Chris?” I mumble quietly against the skin of his thigh that I nip and kiss at.

“Fuck yeah, don’t stop…” He moans through his words breathlessly, the tone of my voice making his hips jerk into my palms.

I look back down to his dick and lean in so that my face is directly in front of his dick, making sure he keeps his eyes on me like a dog playing fetch. Groans echo through my ears once I take him in my mouth, letting my tongue glide across his skin. I take a few inches into my mouth and slowly bob my head up and down, making sure that I work with the rest in my hand.

One of his hands grips on to the sides of the chair, his knuckles turning white as he tries to remain still while the other hand finds its way to the back of my head. His fingers brush over my hair, almost reassuring me before he grabs a fistful into a make-shift ponytail.

After working around his tip for a few moments, something in me snaps and I deepthroat him, catching us both off guard. His hips rut towards my mouth as his dick hits the back of my throat and I gag slightly at the sensation.

A whine leaves Chris’s throat when I remove my mouth from him.

“You okay baby?” The name falls so casually from his lips and it grabs my attention quickly. “You don’t have t- fuck”

I draw out a long moan as I take his deep into my throat once again, getting past the constant need to gag. When I do gag, I try and not pull off completely and work around the tip again.

Chris decides that isn’t enough and uses the strands of hair he gathered to push my head back down onto his cock. Saliva drips from the corners of my mouth and I collect in my palm repeatedly, spreading it to the places my mouth can’t reach.

My eyes look back up to him, his face twisted in pleasure.

“If you keep looking at me l-like that I’m gonna c-cum, ma.” I hum in approval, sending vibrations down his dick. His grip on my hair tightens and pulls slightly whenever his hips jerk upwards.

I feel his dick twitch slightly in my mouth, signalling that he was close, so I slow down to tease him a little while longer.

“y/n…I’m close.” He moans breathlessly and pants through his words.

When he says this, I take him deep in my mouth, doing my best to supress my gags. He twitches again and his hips jerk up to hit the back of my throat. His grip on my hair tightens and he holds me in place.

“fuck..” He groans as he cums down my throat. I ignore the tears that prick at my eyes and swallow it all. My mouth leaves his dick but my hand remains pumping it to ride out his high. Small whimpers leave his lips once it starts to become too much and I look up at him, his face slightly fucked out.

“Was that okay?” I murmur quietly trying to break the silence.

“Ma, that was perfect, you looked so pretty with my cock in your mouth.” His words land heavily through his breaths but I smile up at him as he adjusts himself.

Chris is a little uneasy on his feet once his orgasm diminishes, the effects of weed only slightly weaker now. He pulls his boxers and jeans back up and looks me in the eyes as I follow suit and stand next to him. Fingers wrap around under my chin and pull me towards Chris for another kiss, allowing him to taste himself.

“I should get high with you more often, Chris” I speak against his lips making him pull back.

“Yeah? You’d be a fool to think this wasn’t happening again.”

© ENDEREIES 2024

@melliflws @axolotllover225 @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @sturniolosmind @worldlxvlys @patscorner @breeloveschris @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @mayhem-72 @luverboychris

[muddyorbsblr]

charades

'one look and they'll know' collection masterlist See my full list of works here!

Placement: pre-relationship era; months before 'one look and they'll know'

Summary: After a particularly horrible day on set, Chris extends an invitation for you to join the cast in a game of charades to unwind.

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warning/s: workplace bullying (mentioned); language [let me know if I missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: hints of mutual pining; we're in Hemsworth's POV

"Come on, it'll be fun, Tiny Terror, I promise." Chris gave your shoulders a slight shake to hopefully snap you out of the sour mood you'd been in all day. It was more than obvious why, considering that there were a good few production assistants that looked like they were on their own personal mission to get you to break composure and break a nose, constantly putting your team down for working too slow or some other reason.

One of them even tried insisting that there were props out of place so they could call into question your skill in clocking the continuity between shots. And while it was simple enough to debunk their accusations, it had also been a rather tedious day even just watching all of the little inconveniences happen that seemed hellbent on putting a damper to your day. He couldn't imagine how much more stressful it was in your shoes.

You were only allowed a few minutes to breathe without much worry when those assistants were pulled aside for Taika to have a word with them. Because other than him, there was someone else that not only witnessed the borderline harassment that occurred today, but was damn near foaming at the mouth to start snapping at them for their insolence.

Tom.

And right now Chris could only imagine that the Brit was standing at full height putting forward every single intimidation tactic he had on display at those people and asking them point blank if they had some sort of issue with you.

"I really don't know, Hemsy, it's been a long day. I kinda just want it to be over," you sighed, the facade you'd put in place of trying to look unbothered finally cracking as your shoulders slumped. "No idea who fucking pissed in their cereal this morning but if their goal was to drag someone down with them, they fucking succeeded. Just wanna go back to my hotel room and order a big bowl of pasta and a bottle of wine and turn my phone off until tomorrow morning."

"Alright, how about this. Just a few rounds, and if you hate it, I'll pay for your pasta and wine?"

You paused, thinking over his offer for a few seconds before finally sighing, "Fine. Thirty minutes. But if I tell you I wanna go, you better be ready to order me the fattest bowl of truffle cream pasta you can find."

Just as you walked off back to your team, Taika and Tom came out of one of the back offices where they sequestered the offending crew members. There were visible scowls on their faces as they muttered to themselves while Taika whispered some instructions to security, probably telling them to keep an eye on the troublemakers moving forward.

"Saw you talking to Lil Mayhem," Taika spoke up once he stood where you did just a few moments ago. "She alright?"

Had the situation not been so tense, Chris probably would have poked a bit of fun at the way Tom's face became visibly more animated as he scanned the set trying to find you. If the Brit became even the slightest bit more enamored with you and still refused to do anything about it, he might have to tell you himself just to caution you that if you didn't feel the same way, you'd have to let him down gently. And preferably sooner rather than later.

"She will be," Chris answered. "She's joining us later."

"Ah perfect," the New Zealander exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "We can pair her off with Tom."

"Hmm?" There was an alarmed look in Tom's eyes now, the sound coming out of him uncharacteristically higher pitched than normal.

"Oh come on, mate, did you really think nobody noticed? You look at her like a pup, wagging its tail and jumping in place when its mum comes home." Chris clapped a hand down on his shoulder, trying not to laugh at how mortified he looked finding out his subtle "work crush" on you wasn't exactly that subtle. "Just don't go humping her leg when she walks in."

"Oh my God, yes you're here too," Tessa exclaimed when you walked into Taika's suite, doing a little bounce on her place at the couch and patting the seat beside her. "We can be partners and smoke their asses."

"Hemsworth promised to buy me pasta if I hated it," you told her with a shrug, sitting at the vacant seat. You didn't seem to have noticed that Tom had moved over, making room next to him on the other side of the table. "And I'm not one to turn down free food."

"Tessa you're already partnered with Chris over here," Taika informed her, pointing at the Australian.

"Hold on since when?" He simply showed her a paper containing all your names, your eyes widening slightly when you saw that yours was next to Tom's. "Fine," she huffed, shifting her gaze over to Chris. "We got this."

Taika then presented a little fishbowl containing folded scraps of paper and explained that a single turn would consist of each of you picking out a paper and trying to sign out whatever was on their paper, while the other had to guess what it was. Straightforward enough. "Whoever's signing cannot talk, but they can make sounds if they think it'll help," he kept on explaining. "Winning pair will get…a nice swanky dinner for two when we get to LA for the premiere. Sound good?"

Lay it on a little thicker, Taika, I don't think they're catching on yet, Chris thought sarcastically, immediately clocking the way your cheeks were reddening and Tom was without a doubt imagining what it would be like to be sitting across from you in a fancy restaurant, imagining that you two were on a proper date. What with the way he couldn't keep his eyes off of you, along with that dopey lovestruck smile painting his face every time you even shared the same breathing space, it wasn't that hard to take a guess what the Brit was thinking right at this moment.

Once everyone had a scrap of paper in their hand, Taika spun a little wheel of your names to pick out which pair went first. "Alrighty then, Tom? Y/N? Which one of you'll be guessing first?"

"Oh, uhm…can I guess first? 'Cause I can't sign for shit."  Your request as you addressed Tom sounded casual enough, had it not been for the chuckle at the end that immediately had both Chris and Taika knowing much better than to mistake your demeanor for 'casual'. Seemed you were as skittish around Tom as he was around you.

And maybe Chris didn't have to interfere and advise you to let his friend down easy after all. Maybe he just had to sit back and let you two find each other at your own pace.

Though admittedly this was the type of behavior that started out cute but would grow frustrating to watch if it went on for too long. If neither of you made a move in the coming weeks he might be tempted to lock you two in a cramped storage closet to move things along.

Tom stood up from his seat, cheeks quickly becoming tinged with pink when he saw the words on his little scrap of paper before looking up and holding your gaze. On a whim, Chris decided to take his phone out and have his camera at the ready.

The chime on Taika's phone signaled him to start, and he held up five fingers in front of you.

"Five words." He then nodded and held up one finger before creating a letter "T" with his hands. "First word 'The'." He held up four fingers next and did the "T" symbol again. "And fourth word 'The'. So 'The Blank-Blank The Blank'?"

He nodded at you, a light shining in both your eyes as he kept on, like a couple of kids excited they found someone to play with. But then when Tom went on to sign the second word, for a split second you gave him a look that had everyone in the room that paid even the smallest amount of attention that his affections were definitely not one-sided.

You were well on your way to being completely smitten with him, too.

He held up two fingers before making a lassoing motion and snapping his fingers so loud that the sound made your neck twitch, your eyes glazing over as he pointed to the space in front of him. "Uh…uhm…Capture?" He shook his head, repeating the motion again. "Herding?" He shook his head again. "Collaring--Cowboy?" He let out a laugh before shaking his head again. "Okay I don't think I'm gonna get that, maybe another word we're running out of time."

Tom took a deep breath, as if composing himself before holding up five fingers. And then he drew his hands close to his chest and started making the most ridiculous sound with his head tilted to the ceiling. "Ememememe omomomomo".

That had you bursting into a fit of giggles, making him break out into a face-splitting grin and a few chuckles of his own. "I'm sorry I got absolutely nothing on that, go back to the second word." He went back to the lassoing and snapping movement. "Wait is this for a person or an animal?" He made a motion as if weighing an object in each of his hands, signaling to you that it was both. "Both?! Okay so…domestication?" He shook his head, but motioning for you to keep going down that route. "The--Taming?" Then you gasped, standing up right as two seconds were left on the clock, clapping your hands. "The Taming of the Shrew! The Taming of the Shrew!"

Out of the sheer excitement in the moment, he made his way around the table, grasping for your hands before framing your face in his hands. Had you both lost yourselves in the moment for even a few seconds longer, Chris would have bet good money that you two would have shared a kiss right in front of them.

But then both of you froze in place, giving each other an awkward smile before he stepped back, making his way back to where he stood seconds before. Good thing Chris already had his phone in hand and snapped a photo before your mutual shyness toward each other got the better of you.

"Cute," Taika commented, throwing Tom a look. "Alrighty then Y/N, it's your turn now."

You stood, looking at your scrap of paper and then looking around the room, your eyes landing on the decorative skull flower vase on the dining table.

Before you could signal for Taika to start the clock, Tom spoke up, "Hamlet?"

A choked sound of utter shock slipped out of everyone else in the room. "Hold up, that counts right, T?" Taika just nodded.

"How the fuck--Are you two telepathically connected or something?" Tessa threw the question out, pointing her finger at both of you. "You know what it doesn't matter, the night's still young. We still got a chance to smoke 'em, Hemsworth."

Chris wasn't paying much attention, shooting you a text instead. So you wanna cash in on that free food, Tiny Terror?

He had to fight back the knowing grin that pulled at the corners of his mouth seeing the message you typed back. I could stay a few more rounds.

A/N: I did mention before that I have some pre-relationship chapters planned for these two blorbos, right? 👀 Well if I didn't, I'm saying it now. Chapters. Plural. I honestly don't know how many pieces I have in store for this collection but safe to say it's not ending any time soon. 😳💖

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover @dryyoursaltyoceantears @herdetectivetheorist

[steddieas-shegoes]

Nother idea: Wayne & Eddie coming home from a long ass day, tired & stressed, both of them arriving at their trailer at the same time. Both of them taking a deep breath knowing that they'll have to clean up & prepare dinner but both are exhausted. But when they come in their trailer is sparkling clean. The floors swept & mopped, dirty clothes put into the wash, clean clothes folded neatly on the couch in piles for both Eddie and Wayne. Their trailer smells clean & fresh, they turn towards the kitchen & see Steve humming quietly to himself along with the radio on low as he pulls fresh made supper from the oven, on the counters are baked goods cooling. Wayne & Eddie realizing that Steve not only cleaned up their home but he prepared them easy to reheat meals, cleaned up their space bc he knew they'd be exhausted & both of them like the trailer to be clean, but neither had time. So he did it because they are his family & he loves them & wants them to feel safe and cared for in their new home.

MY LOVE! So I kinda ran with a somewhat different background plot, just because it kind of felt like I needed to show that Steve ain't slackin'. I also moved this one ahead of another request because I needed to write Wayne in a sappy way after chapter 2 of demon Steve. Steve was born to be a housewife with guidance counselor tendencies and I don't make the rules. ENJOY! - Mickala ❤️

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

Eddie felt the exhaustion fully hit him as soon as he put his van in park.

He’d been working more overtime over the last month to save up for the down payment on the house he and Steve fell in love with.

The government money helped, but it mostly went to medical bills and a new van when his old one had become government property.

Wayne told him to keep as much of it saved as he could. “You never know what life will throw at ya,” he’d said.

Steve had been working a lot too, but was focusing on his classes at the community college, trying to set up a better future for both of them.

It meant that Eddie was pulling a lot of the financial weight right now, that Wayne was doing as much as he could for them so they could actually save up, but it would all be worth it.

Wayne knocked on his window and he blinked his eyes open again.

When had he even closed them?

Eddie opened the door and stepped out, groaning at the ache in his knee. It still wasn’t 100%, probably never would be as long as he was doing physical labor, and today had been particularly rough at the shop.

“Alright, bud?” Wayne asked him, hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah. Just tired,” Eddie replied.

“You and me both. Let’s go relax a bit.”

But relaxing wouldn’t be on the table until they fixed dinner and cleaned up a bit and Eddie knew the faucet had been leaking when he left this morning and they didn’t need a leak like that running up the water bill, so he should probably try to fix it before bed.

He let Wayne go in first, as always, knowing he’d take longer going up the porch steps.

He could handle walking just fine most of the time, but stairs were a bitch.

He nearly walked right into Wayne when he walked through the front door, the older man standing stock still right in the entrance.

“Wayne? You good?” Eddie asked, his mind suddenly filtering through any number of terrible reasons for his sudden frozen demeanor.

And then he could smell it.

Cookies.

Someone was baking cookies.

And then he saw it.

The living room was completely cleaned and organized, magazines stacked neatly on the table, no crumbs on the couch or carpet, the weird mud stain from Eddie’s boots no longer on the rug by the front door.

He heard the record player going, though the volume was low enough that he could also hear Steve singing in the kitchen.

“Looks like your boy’s been busy,” Wayne smirked over his shoulder at him.

“I don’t-“ Eddie started to say.

“Eds? Wayne? You guys home?” Steve called from the kitchen.

Before they answered, he walked around the corner with an apron on, his glasses perched on his nose, and a beaming smile on his face.

“I just put the lasagna back in the oven to heat up a bit for you. Had to wait for the cookies to come out,” Steve said as he walked towards them.

He wrapped his arms around Eddie’s neck and kissed him on the lips quickly, then pulled away to give Wayne a quick side hug.

“I made some lemonade that should be nice and cold by now. You want some?”

Eddie and Wayne blinked at him, surprise at what was happening rendering them speechless.

“Is everything okay?” Steve’s tone shifted to concern, the smile dropping from his face as he took in their stillness.

“You cleaned?” Wayne asked.

“And cooked?” Eddie asked.

“And baked?” Wayne added.

“My afternoon class was canceled and Keith said he wouldn’t approve overtime for me, so. I came home?” Steve still looked concerned, like he was waiting for one or both of them to start yelling at him.

“Where’s your car?” Wayne asked.

That was a great question. Eddie just realized it wasn’t in the yard, which was half the reason he’d been shocked to see Steve here at all.

“Oh! Max needed to go to therapy. I was already in the middle of baking so I told her she could just use it as long as she was back by eight.”

“So you’ve been cleaning and baking and cooking all afternoon? For us?” Eddie asked, biting back as much emotion as he could.

He was tired and overwhelmed with love and he knew he would start crying if he didn’t contain some of it.

“I just wanted to take care of you guys and take care of our house. You worked all day and I had some free time to do it,” Steve shrugged.

Wayne collected himself first, moving toward Steve and squeezing his shoulder.

“Thanks, son. You don’t know how much I appreciate ya doin’ all this,” he said, voice slightly choked up.

“It’s no problem, Wayne,” Steve replied, face red.

“Mind if I go grab a shower first?” he asked Eddie.

“Fine with me,” Eddie responded.

Wayne nodded once, smiling at them both, and walked to his room to grab clothes for after his shower.

Steve looked up at Eddie shyly.

“Lasagna will be about 20 more minutes if you wanna grab a drink,” he said quietly.

Eddie smirked.

“Some of that lemonade sounds nice,” he played along, knowing exactly where this was going.

No matter how tired or sore he was, he wouldn’t turn down the chance to get his hands on Steve or have Steve’s hands on him.

Steve led him into the kitchen by his hand, tugging him along as he excitedly explained that he’d found the lemons at a farm stand on his way home from work yesterday and considered using them for a cheesecake, but decided this would be better.

Eddie smiled at him fondly, just happy that Steve is happy.

“I’ll get you a glass, just wait right there,” Steve said, pushing him against the counter gently.

But Eddie didn’t let him pull away yet, fisted his shirt and pulled him against his front.

“Eds!” Steve yelped as they made contact.

“I’m sure the lemonade is perfect, but I want a taste of you first, sugar,” Eddie mumbled, leaning down to press his lips against Steve’s.

Steve melted against him, letting Eddie’s tongue past his lips and letting out a low moan when Eddie’s hands squeezed his ass.

“What’re you doing?” he whispered against Eddie’s lips.

“Touching you,” Eddie answered before kissing the corner of his mouth, his cheek, his jaw.

“Wayne though.”

“He’s already in the shower. We got a few minutes.”

“We can’t do much in a few minutes,” Steve said, trying to stifle another moan as Eddie’s fingers untied his apron and slid to the front of his jeans to undo his button.

“You underestimate how hot it is to see you like a little housewife, sweetheart,” Eddie chuckled.

Steve slapped his arm.

“Not a housewife.”

“No? You sure seemed happy about cleaning up and cooking for me,” Eddie said as he slid his hands into the waistband of Steve’s boxers.

“Eds,” he gasped, but didn’t stop him as he wrapped his hand around his half-hard cock.

“Get me out, Stevie. Don’t have much time,” Eddie groaned.

Steve did as he was asked, but still seemed hesitant.

Eddie paused.

“You wanna call it?” he asked.

If Steve truly didn’t want to, he knew what to say to stop, and he knew Eddie would stop, no questions asked.

But he shook his head, biting his lip to contain a whimper as Eddie looked down at their cocks and spit.

“Gotta stay quiet, still. Don’t wanna be caught,” Eddie whispered as he leaned in to kiss him again, keep his mouth preoccupied so he didn’t give them away.

He knew Wayne would be at least another 10 minutes, but they both liked the idea of having to stay quiet and be quick.

And quick it was.

They both came in barely two minutes, Eddie riled up from Steve just being Steve, Steve being riled up at the fact they were doing this in the kitchen.

“I just cleaned this floor, you better not have gotten anything on it,” Steve smirked at Eddie as they buttoned themselves back up.

“Promise I’ll clean it up myself if I did.”

“You better. Gonna go shower next?” Steve tied the apron back up, walking over to the fridge to finally get the lemonade.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sore today. Hot water will help.”

Steve turned to him with a furrowed brow.

“You should’ve said, baby. You need some Motrin or something?”

“Nah, maybe after I eat. Got a dose of you to help,” he winked obnoxiously.

“Alright, keep it in your pants,” Steve said as he poured a glass for Eddie and a glass for Wayne.

“You’re the one who had it out a minute ago!”

Steve just gave him a dead-eyed stare before handing him his lemonade.

“Get out of my kitchen.”

“Sir, yes sir!” Eddie saluted.

He took a few sips of the lemonade as he walked towards his bedroom to grab clothes.

It was delicious, as he expected.

Just like coming home to Steve every day.

[daisyvisions]

✦ Day 18 - Sensory Deprivation

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Pairing: Best friend!Younghoon x afab!reader

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Word Count: 1.5K

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Warnings: Smut (18+, minors DNI), gonna label this a graphic sex, sensory deprivation, mentions of smoking weed, high sex, fingering, neck kissing, a lil bit of marking, some good ol’ cock rubbing, unprotected sex, creampie, mating press, slight pleasure dom maybe? pet name (baby, sweetheart), proofread once (sorry it’s 2AM as I’m writing this)

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. A/N: My very 1st kinktober fic is here! I was worried I wouldn’t have the time to write but here I am, determined to write for each day hehe hope you all enjoy this one!

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Network: @deoboyznet

✦ Kinktober Masterlist ✦

“Seriously Younghoon, what’s in this shit?” You giggle as you exhale the smoke.

“Feels good right? It’s a new blend from my dealer. Said it hits much faster than the older batch.” And he was right. You only took in a few puffs and your whole body started to feel like it was floating away.

“Well whatever the hell is in it, it’s doing magic on me.” You sigh. “Kinda tingles too actually.”

“It does fuck-” Younghoon moans out, leaning his head against the headboard of his bed. The sound of his moan surging straight to your core without you realizing it.

You turn your head to look at him, getting a good look at his side profile. Has he always been this handsome?

“Thanks for this. Been so stressed out lately with everything going on.”

“But you’re always stressed out.” Younghoon replies as a matter of fact. “You just gotta relax sometimes, you know?”

You scoff. “Easy for you to say. You’re not struggling with a scholarship and working a part-time job.”

“My part-time job is taking care of you does that count?” He smiles. You roll your eyes at him before snatching the blunt from his fingers and taking in another puff.

“Look, all I'm saying is you need to stop overworking that pretty little head of yours alright?”

“You think my head is pretty?” You giggle.

“Of course I do. The prettiest one of all.” He raises his finger to poke the side of your head as he speaks and you pretend to fall over, making you both laugh in the process.

“You’re lucky I didn’t feel that one.” You tell him as you reposition yourself beside him. “Everything gets so numb when I’m high.”

“Oh? So if I do this-” Younghoon pinches your bicep. “You don’t feel anything?”

“Nope. Nothing at all.” You reply back.

“How about this?” He boops your nose. You shake your head.

“And how about…Now!” He lunges forward, tickling your waist. You squeal as you try to push him away. His position having an advantage over yours so you couldn’t squirm your way out of his grip if you tried.

A few seconds later, Younghoon’s body hovers over yours, his knees placed at each side of your thighs.

“Thought you said you couldn’t feel anything?” He raises his eyebrow.

“Tickles don’t count asshole, of course I can feel it.” You look up at him, both of you completely unaware of the position you’re in.

“So if I do this-” His hand reaches for the side of your neck, tracing his finger down your soft skin.

“Nothing?” He asks.

“Still none” You reassure him.

“Okay. But what about this?” He lowers his head down to your neck, rubbing the tip of his lips against following the same trail his finger traced onto your skin.

“Y-yeah. Nothing a-at all.” You stutter, closing your eyes in an attempt to control any kind of involuntary sound that might escape your mouth.

Without warning Younghoon starts to leave light kisses on your neck, slowly doing so to get a reaction out of you. You try to hold your breath, but with every kiss he leaves on your skin pools of heat bloom within your core.

Younghoon stops for a moment to reach for the blunt in the ashtray on his night stand and deeply inhales one last time before putting it out. He hovers over you once more, the tip of his nose lightly touching yours as he squeezes your cheeks with one hand to open your mouth.

Suddenly, he's exhaling the smoke into your mouth. His lips now lightly touching yours in the process. You inhale the smoke. Holding it in your lungs before exhaling it, keeping at contact with him as you do.

“Baby’s been so stressed out lately huh?” He asks. You nod your head in response.

“Poor thing.” He tuts. “Want to be taken care of that’s all. Is that what you want?”

“Mhm.” You whine out as you nod your head again.

“Just close your eyes sweetheart. Let me take care of you.” His thumb grazing your bottom lip as his other hand rubs circles on your exposed waist. You follow his words and slowly close your eyes.

Younghoon dips his head to kiss your neck again but this time intentionally sucking on the sensitive skin in-between in the hopes of leaving his marks on you.

You gasp at the sensational feeling. Your sense of touch heightened from closing your eyes and being as high as a cloud. Younghoon licks a particularly sensitive spot right below your earlobe, eliciting a very erotic moan from you.

“Fuck, pretty sounds. Just how I imagined them-” He whispers in your ear.

Suddenly your hips jolt upwards as you feel the pad of his fingers circling your clit through your pajama shorts. The slow pace of his movements making you want more.

“Do you trust me?” He whispers in your ear again. You nod your head in response.

“I’m gonna need you to say it baby.” He says, adding a bit more pressure to your sensitive bud.

“I- I trust you.” you respond. Your voice sounding more innocent than it should've.

“Just keep your eyes closed alright? I’ll make you feel good. Sooo good.”

You feel his body shift from the bed as he gets off for a moment. You hear the sound of his pants unzip and a plop throws the piece of clothing somewhere in the room. The mattress dips as you feel him hover over you once again.

His hands run up your exposed legs until his fingers hook to the waistband of your shorts and slowly removing them along with your underwear. The breeze of the air hitting your cunt has you gasping, making you realize how wet you are right now.

Younghoon groans at the sight, his hands resting on top of your knees before slowly spreading your legs apart for him. You can feel him inserting his figure between your legs, trying to get closer to you as much as possible.

You lick your lips in anticipation, wishing you could open your eyes and soak in the view before you. Before you know it, you feel something warm and wet gliding through your folds, the tip nudging your throbbing clit with every stroke. You moan at the thought of his bare cock rubbing against you.

“Feels good baby?” He asks.

“P-please” you whine in response.

“P-please what?” You hear the mocking tone in his voice. “Want this?” He pulls back and thrusts his length between your folds, the tip nearly getting caught at your entrance making you whimper.

“I need your cock Younghoon please-” you beg.

“As you wish…” as soon as Younghoon responds you feel his cock pushing inside you, making you arch your back from the pleasurable stretch of being filled to the brim.

“Oh shit- you’re so warm. So tight too…” He rolls his hips, making sure to drag his length in and out of you slowly to make you feel all of him every time he bottoms out.

“You like that baby? Like it when I fuck you like this?”

“Yes- oh my god!” You exclaim. You’ve never felt so full in your life.

You feel his hands move from from the dip of your hips to the back of your calves, lifting them onto his shoulders as he leans forwards to fold your legs into a mating press.

The sudden change of angle makes his cock go deeper inside you, nudging that sweet gummy spot that has you closer to the edge of your orgasm. His elbows placed at each side of your head, locking you into the position even further as he dips his head to hastily meet your lips. His tongue snaking its way inside your mouth, moaning as he delivers deeper thrusts.

You both feel like time is slowing down, the feeling of his cock dragging through your velvety walls in slow motion. Feeling every vein in his cock rubbing inside you. Your cunt embracing his member like it was meant to be there.

Shared moans and whimpers echoing through the room as you both help each other reach some kind of lustful euphoria you’ve never experienced before. Chanting his name as he continues to hit your spot inside until you reach your high in unison. Panting against each other’s lips and kissing like it was your source of oxygen.

You both stay like this for a while, enjoying the warmth radiating from each other’s bodies. His length still twitching inside you, signaling how much he can’t get enough of you.

You slowly open your eyes, meeting the caring yet lustful gaze of Younghoon’s as he caresses your cheek before swiping his thumb across your bottom lip as he smirks at you,

“See baby? Told you I’d make you feel good.”

[lushlovers]

The P-word, J Burrow

summary; he doesn't know what to say or how to react to things like this.

warnings; fluff fr, mentions of pregnancy and pregnancy tests, pet names (baby, honey, ) joe actually kinda sucks with words but same lmaoooo, swearing, kissing

word count; 903

note; yes angst but also fluff. i'm working on more frat!lsu!joey, but this was something random I wanted to post since it's been a little while. i hate the ending no one talk about it. winter writer's block ain't no joke fr.

this is kind of my thank you for two hundred followers even though we are just on the cusp of three, but thank you so much, I appreciate the support of my works more than you will ever know. i love every one of my followers so so sooo much yall are the best:)

Pregnant, pregnant, pregnant. Maybe the more you think of those eight letters will fade away and completely off the little plastic at-home test you decided to finally take. God the word just keeps ringing in your head like the most annoying of alarms. How the hell are you supposed to tell him? His career's just started he'll never be along for the roller coaster ride, especially not when it consists of a baby running around as well.

However, luck chooses to be your opponent this evening since Joe's already home and sitting on the couch in the living room, completely oblivious to the fact that your world has just turned completely upside down. It took a while for you to work up the nerve to call him up, but when you did everything suddenly felt so heavy.

The weight refused to leave your shoulders as he sat on the truck at the foot of your bed. Rehearing in the mirror, preparing for every scenario, but especially for the one that you hope and pray will never occur. Everything that you've been through together, nothing will go wrong, he's too good of a person.

After several minutes, worry becomes evident in your voice as he asks you through the door if everything's alright, "'M fine, just nervous, I guess." That seemed to do the opposite of what you intended, that is, maybe your lying and saying you're fine would shut him up for a bit, but your being nervous led to many other questions from the other side of the door.

Adding on to that p-word, every what if clouds your mind as well. What if telling him this is your biggest regret? What if he just packs his shit and leaves? What if-, "Baby, are you sure?" Fucks sake he's still going with his questions, in any less stressful situation this would've been appreciated, but not when you can barely seem to focus on the most topic at hand.

Now or never, seemed to be the only thing that got you to push open the door and finally face the man you love so dearly. He almost instantly jumps up, concern written all over his face even more so when he glances in the direction of your hands. "Do you wanna tell me what's going on?" No, not entirely, you think but you won't let that escape your mouth, matter of fact, nothing leaves your mouth for many seconds. Maybe never was a good idea.

It took a bit for you to unscramble your words and finally speak up, "I'm gonna tell you something, but you have to try not to freak out." Your mouth felt dry the way your anxiety made your throat close up made it feel like your lungs had shrunk five times the size they were before, "Okay, care to share? I'm like shitting my pants right now," Joe spoke, chuckling but not because it was funny, he laughs because he's terrified of what words may escape your lips.

You do everything you can to avoid his eyes because the all too familiar feeling of tears surfaces on your waterline and his brows furrow at that. "Honey, you know you can tell me anything, yeah?" His question is lost to you as he cups your face thumbing away the tears before they got a chance to slip down your cheeks. The feeling of his eyes searching yours for any answer to all the questions that he's thinking about is a scary feeling.

"I'm pregnant," it comes out as a whisper, but the way the color completely drains from his face, you know he understood every syllable of those two words. For a split second, he stares at you with a look you don't think you've ever received from him before, "That's... wow." A strangled breath of half relief and half worry escapes you at his response.

Your soul leaves your body as he racks his brain for something to say to express just how he's feeling, but he's almost certain there is no possible way to verbally explain it. Now tears are welling up in his pretty blue eyes, "That's insane, I dunno what to say, are you sure?" His voice is trembling just as much as his hands as you place the test into his palm, he gets choked up as he reads over the same word that had your stomach in knots before with nothing but admiration and surprise.

"Holy fucking shit," he gapes, pulling you into him so tight it nearly knocks the wind right out of you. You laugh now as it settles into your mind that Joe would never do anything to hurt you or your baby in any way possible and to think he would ever leave in a situation like this one was silly, but thinking irrationally tends to happen quite a lot.

"I'm gonna be a dad, I need to call-" you cut him off before he's able to go on his rant, "How about we pause, and we can tell whoever we want in the most extravagant, Joseph Burrow way possible?" He snorts at that, pulling his face away from his place against your shoulder, muffling some form of agreement against your lips, then your jaw, neck, and clavicle, and lowering himself to his knees.

For a moment he looks up at you, "Sorry if I scared you with my response, I don't usually know what to say in times like this and my brain went into shock mode."

[buggybambi]

So glad you're back!! Would you ever consider writing for Carmy x Richie's younger sister again?? I had an idea (if you want to write it, please dont overwhelm yourself) where reader and Carmen are fighting while reader is pregnant with their first baby and Carmen says something kinda mean to her and then she goes into laboro unexpectedly?! And seeing how Richie would react to that and be so defensive of his little sister 🥹

hi love! hope this is okay :) | fem!reader, mentions of a hospital, nicu stay/labor

You know he didn't mean it. Calling you stupid for showing up to the Bear that day when there was tools laying about, too many unknown people being around. He was just a worried soon-to-be dad, but that didn't make it easier.

Carmen was always protective over you, and now that you two had a baby on the way, it heightened. He was already on edge with the amount of repairs being done that day in the Bear, and the hazardous scene the restaraunt was in. He was just stressed out and took it out on you, like an idiot.

You didn't stick around to hear his apology after the words slipped out of his mouth. "Why are you being so difficult about this!? Showing up here was fucking stupid of you!" Nat took you outside to get you both away from each other, give you both some space to breathe. You could hear Carmen leave the restaraunt, disappearing to who knows where.

You sigh as you lean against the fence outside, gripping it with one hand. "He didn't mean it, it's just- there's been a lot happening today. Like a lot. Our fridge guy couldn't come and then a health inspection." Nat tried to explain. You were barely listening as your eyes squeezed shut. The pain in your abdomen and back you'd been briefly experiencing for the past few minutes had subsided as you let out an exhale. Syd stepped out at the same time.

"Hey, woah, you alright?" She asks. "Yeah, yeah sorry. Just Braxton Hicks. They just haven't been this intense." You answer. Syd stares at you both before clearing her throat. "I think your water just broke." She says.

You stare at her for a second, almost laughing. "Funny, Syd, but this isn't the time-" You look down and realize she's right. Your water just broke. "No, no, no it's too soon. We don't.. Carmen has to be here. You say, your voice filled with panic.

"Honey, I don't think you have a choice. Let's go to the hospital, okay? Syd, call Richie and Carmen, tell them to meet us at Chicago West." Nat takes your hand, helping you walk around the corner to her car, where she proceeds to break more then a few traffic laws.

"Who the fuck are you to talk to my sister like that?" Richie demands. The two were going back and forth after Carmen got back to the restaraunt. "Richie, I'm not fucking doing this with you right now." Carmen argues.

Syd walks in, exhaling. "Do either of you check your phones?!" She asks. "I don't know, he's a dumbass." Richie comments as Carmen rolls his eyes.

"Mine's.." Carmen frantically searches his pockets. "It must be in my office. What's the matter?" He asks. Syd frowns. "Y/n went into labor outside, Nat took her to Chicago West. I've been trying to call you to get you there before you miss the birth."

Carmen's already out the door by the time she finishes talking.

────

"If Carmen misses this, I'm going to kill him." Nat comments as she puts a pillow under your back for support. You sigh, laying back. The room is mostly quiet, except for the beeping of equipment. Monitoring your heartrate, your baby's heartrate, your contractions. It feels surreal to watch them increase and decrease with spikes on the monitor.

"He won't miss this. He'll be here." You say, your voice laced with doubt. You knew if Sydney had gotten ahold of Carmen, he'd be speeding to the hospital. Your doctor had been trying to push back your labor as much as she can, but you knew you were about to start pushing soon.

"I really hope you're right. I'm gonna go get you more ice chips." She says, stepping out of the room. You stare at the heartbeat monitors before you hear a small knock on the door. You turn to find Carmen in the doorway. "Hi." He says softly.

You smile. "Hey. Nice of you to drop by." You say, waiting for him to come over to you. When he doesn't immediately, you hold your hand out for him. He practically runs, taking it. "I'm so sorry. For not being here and for what I said. I shouldn't have- you didn't deserve that."

You shake your head. "Carm, you're here now. I'm glad you are. I love your sister but she is not a good birthing coach." She comments as he laughs.

He presses a kiss to your head. "I'm here now." He says. You squeeze his hand lightly. "I know you are, Carmy." Nat smiles as she returns. "Good, you get to live. Here are your ice chips. Best of luck." She wishes, placing a kiss on your cheek.

You smile. "Thanks for being so helpful, Nat."

────

Within the next half hour, your baby boy was in the world. Laying on your chest, his tiny hand wrapped around Carmen's finger. "He's so perfect." Carmen whispers, his voice filled with such fondness.

You two decided on a name: Theodore "Teddy" Berzatto. He was perfect to you two. Your own little boy, your son.

Richie and the rest of the staff came by the hospital. You swooned over your big brother getting to hold your little boy. "He looks just like dad." Richie admits quietly. You nod. "He does. Looks like dad and Mikey." Carmen agrees.

Your son couldn't have been surrounded with more love.

[artyandink]

amoralism | thirteen

SUMMARY: You and Dean Winchester are the top agents from Major Crimes. You’re also assigned as partners on the same case- a crime syndicate is running loose and buying out most of downtown New York. He hates you cause you hate him. You hate him cause you think he got in his position with his daddy’s influence. But this case is personal to one of you more than the other- and you may be getting too personal for comfort.

TW: Dean’s the mole, the Sucide Squad formation and it being a train wreck, a bit of family problems, angst, smut

STW: unprotected sex (do not do this at any circumstances), oral (f. receiving), betrayal!era Dean sex so it’s kinda like if Demon!Dean would do it which we all love, kind of angsty sex, rough sex, rather emotional

SERIES MASTERLIST

Song Inspo: Tears of Gold - Faouzia

catastrophism

You and Sam were hunched over a pile of papers and computer screens in his dimly lit living room. The room, usually a sanctuary, felt heavy with the weight of your mission. The hum of the computer and the rustling of papers were the only sounds breaking the silence as you scoured for any sign of Dean.

“We’ve got to find him before he goes underground completely,” Sam said, his voice strained but determined. His eyes darted across the screen, following the trail of data that might lead you to Dean. The pressure was mounting; it was evident in the lines etched deep into his face.

You nodded absentmindedly, your eyes glazed over as you flipped through a file with disjointed leads. The stress was palpable, and though you were trying to keep your focus, your thoughts kept wandering back to Dean—the betrayal, the manipulation, the overwhelming realization of it all. It was hard to shake the image of him as the mole, a shadow over every decision and interaction.

Sam glanced over at you, noting the weariness in your eyes and the tight grip you had on the edge of the table. “Hey,” he said gently, “are you okay? You seem...off.”

You blinked, snapping back to reality. “I’m fine,” you replied, though your voice was brittle and unconvincing. “We just need to keep going. We can’t stop now.”

Sam didn’t buy it. He knew you too well. “You’ve been pushing yourself really hard. Maybe we should take a break. It’s been nonstop since—”

“No,” you cut him off sharply, perhaps a little too sharply. “We don’t have time for breaks. Dean’s out there, and he’s a threat. We have to find him before he disappears.”

Sam’s expression hardened slightly, his protective instincts kicking in. “I understand that. But if you’re not in a good place, it’s going to make things harder. We need you at your best.”

You felt a surge of frustration, but underneath it, a deep current of fear and sadness. “I’m fine,” you insisted again, but this time your voice trembled.

Sam’s face softened, seeing through the façade you were desperately trying to maintain. “Look, if you’re struggling, it’s okay. We’re in this together. But you need to let yourself take a breath.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the pressure of it all was too much. You tried to hold back the tears, but they began to spill over uncontrollably. The stress, the worry, the betrayal—everything was crashing down on you, and you felt utterly defeated.

Sam stood up from his chair, his demeanor shifting to one of concern and empathy. “Hey,” he said gently, approaching you. “It’s okay to let it out. We’re going to get through this.”

You couldn’t hold back any longer. You slumped forward, your shoulders shaking with sobs as the tears flowed freely. It was as if all the stress and pain you’d been trying to contain had finally broken free. The sound of your crying filled the room, raw and unabashed.

Sam moved quickly to your side, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. The warmth of his hug was a balm to your frayed nerves. “It’s alright,” he murmured, his voice steady and reassuring. “We’re going to figure this out. You don’t have to carry this burden alone.”

You clung to him, taking solace in the simple act of being held. His presence was grounding, a stark contrast to the chaos swirling in your mind. The tears kept coming, each one a release of pent-up emotion and stress. Sam held you firmly, his hand gently rubbing your back in a soothing rhythm.

As you began to regain some composure, you heard a gentle knock on the door. It creaked open, revealing Jess, rubbing her baby bump. She stepped in, concern etched on her face. “Sam? I heard... Are you guys okay? Do you need anything?”

Sam glanced up, his eyes apologetic. “Hey, Jess. We’re... we’re fine. Just had a bit of a moment.”

Jess looked between you and Sam, understanding dawning on her face. “Do you need something to eat or drink? Maybe just some time to relax?”

You pulled away slightly from Sam’s embrace, wiping at your tear-streaked face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

Jess shook her head, her expression gentle. “Don’t apologize. Everyone needs a break sometimes. Here, let me get you something. It’s the least I can do.”

She left the room, her presence a calming one. You and Sam were left alone again, but the tension in the room had lessened. Sam’s gaze was soft, and he gave you a reassuring nod. “It’s okay to take a step back. We’ll get through this together.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Thanks, Sam. I just...I didn’t realize how overwhelmed I was.”

“It’s understandable,” Sam said. “This whole situation is tough on everyone. But remember, you don’t have to go through it alone.”

You nodded, grateful for his support. Jess returned shortly with a tray of snacks and drinks, setting them down on the table. “Here you go,” she said with a warm smile. “Just some comfort food. It might not solve everything, but it can help.”

You managed a small, grateful smile as you took a sip of the tea Jess had brought. The simple act of kindness felt like a balm to your frayed nerves. Jess’s presence, combined with Sam’s unwavering support, helped you find a moment of calm amid the storm.

As you ate and drank, the conversation shifted to lighter topics, the atmosphere easing as you all shared a brief respite from the intensity of the situation. Sam and Jess talked about their plans for the weekend, and you listened, allowing yourself to be momentarily distracted from the pressing worries.

You and Sam made your way through the narrow, dimly lit corridors of the FBI headquarters, the weight of the last few weeks pressing down on you like a vice. The air was thick with the tension that had been building ever since Dean's betrayal came to light, and it was all you could do to keep moving forward. Sam walked beside you, his long strides purposeful, but there was a heaviness to his movements that you recognized all too well. He’d been carrying the burden of Dean’s actions just as much as you had, maybe even more.

As you approached the office of Director Bobby Singer, your stomach twisted in knots. Bobby wasn’t just your superior; he was practically family. He’d known Sam and Dean since they were kids, and he’d watched them grow into the men they were today. The thought of facing him, of telling him that you still had no solid leads on Dean’s whereabouts, made your chest tighten with guilt.

Sam paused in front of the heavy oak door, his hand hovering over the handle. He glanced at you, his hazel eyes filled with a mixture of determination and dread. “You ready for this?” he asked, his voice low and rough.

You swallowed hard, nodding despite the uncertainty gnawing at your insides. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

With a deep breath, Sam pushed open the door, and you both stepped into the office. The room was dimly lit, the warm glow of a desk lamp casting long shadows across the walls lined with bookshelves crammed full of case files, old and new. The scent of leather and paper filled the air, a comforting reminder of the countless hours spent in this room, poring over case details with Bobby.

Behind the large, cluttered desk sat Director Bobby Singer. He was a grizzled man in his late fifties, his once-dark hair now streaked with gray, his blue eyes sharp and calculating. He looked up from the file he was reading, his gaze settling on the two of you with a mixture of weariness and concern. The lines on his face seemed deeper than you remembered, as if the weight of the world had finally begun to take its toll on him.

“Shut the door behind you,” Bobby said, his voice gravelly but not unkind. You did as he asked, the soft click of the door closing behind you punctuating the heavy silence that had settled over the room.

Bobby motioned to the two chairs in front of his desk. “Sit,” he said simply, and you and Sam both sank into the worn leather chairs, the familiar creak of the old furniture grounding you in the moment.

For a long moment, Bobby just stared at the two of you, his eyes flicking back and forth as if searching for something. You could tell he was trying to gauge the situation, to read between the lines of what you weren’t saying. Finally, he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest.

“I’m guessing you’re here to give me an update on Dean,” he said, his tone neutral but the underlying concern evident.

Sam cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “We’ve been working every lead we’ve got, Bobby, but…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening with frustration.

Bobby’s eyes narrowed, his expression hardening. “But you haven’t found him.”

It wasn’t a question, and the truth of it hung in the air like a lead weight.

You glanced at Sam, seeing the same frustration mirrored in his face. “We’ve been following every lead, Bobby,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s like he’s just… disappeared.”

Bobby’s expression didn’t change, but you could see the flicker of pain in his eyes, a pain that came from knowing just how far Dean had fallen. He let out a heavy sigh, rubbing a hand over his face as if trying to wipe away the exhaustion that clung to him.

“Dammit,” Bobby muttered under his breath, more to himself than to you. He was silent for a moment, his mind clearly working through the implications of what you’d said. Finally, he looked back up at the two of you, his gaze sharp and focused.

“Tell me everything,” he said, his voice firm. “Every lead you’ve followed, every dead end. I need to know where we stand.”

You and Sam exchanged a quick glance before Sam nodded, leaning forward slightly as he began to recount the details of the investigation. “We started with his last known location,” Sam began, his voice steady despite the tension in his body. “After he escaped custody, we traced him to a safe house in Montana. But by the time we got there, he was already gone.”

Bobby nodded, listening intently, his eyes never leaving Sam’s face. “Any sign of where he went after that?”

Sam shook his head, his frustration evident. “Nothing concrete. We found some evidence that he’d been in contact with a few known associates—people we’ve had on our radar for a while. But none of them were willing to talk. It’s like they’re more afraid of Dean than they are of us.”

Bobby frowned, his fingers tapping absently on the edge of his desk. “That’s not surprising. Dean’s always been good at getting people to do what he wants. But this… This is different. He’s not just working with them, he’s controlling them.”

You nodded, the weight of Bobby’s words settling heavily in your chest. “We think he’s been planning this for a long time,” you said quietly. “He’s always been one step ahead of us, like he knew what we were going to do before we did it.”

Bobby’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing as he processed what you were saying. “And you think he’s working alone?”

The question hung in the air, and you could see the doubt in Sam’s eyes as he considered how to respond. “We’re not sure,” Sam admitted finally. “We know he’s been in contact with some high-level operatives, but we haven’t been able to confirm if he’s officially aligned with any groups. It’s possible he’s acting independently.”

Bobby’s lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze hardening. “If Dean’s gone rogue, that makes him even more dangerous. He knows our methods, our protocols. He can predict our every move.”

The room fell silent as the reality of the situation settled over you all. Dean wasn’t just another fugitive; he was one of your own, someone who knew the inner workings of the FBI better than anyone. And that made him a threat like no other.

Bobby leaned forward, his gaze piercing as he looked at you and Sam. “So what’s your plan? How do you intend to bring him in?”

The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words. The truth was, you didn’t have a concrete plan. Every lead you’d followed had ended in a dead end, every attempt to track him down had been thwarted. And now, sitting here in Bobby’s office, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of hopelessness creeping in.

But before you could voice those doubts, Sam spoke up, his voice firm and resolute. “We’re going to keep looking,” he said, his jaw set in determination. “We’re not giving up, Bobby. We’ll find him. We have to.”

Bobby studied Sam for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he nodded, a reluctant sigh escaping him. “I know you will, Sam. But you need to be careful. Dean’s not the same person you grew up with. He’s changed. And I don’t just mean because of what he’s done. He’s… different.”

The words sent a chill down your spine, and you couldn’t help but wonder just how much Dean had changed. How much of the man you’d known and loved was still in there, and how much had been lost to whatever darkness had taken hold of him.

“We’ll be careful,” you said quietly, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you. “But we need to bring him in, Bobby. Before he does something we can’t undo.”

Bobby’s gaze softened slightly, a hint of the familiar warmth returning to his eyes. “I know you will,” he said, his voice gentle. “Just… don’t let this consume you. Either of you. Dean’s made his choices, and now you have to make yours.”

The words hung heavy in the air, a reminder that this wasn’t just about finding Dean; it was about protecting yourselves, about not losing sight of who you were in the process. And that was something you both needed to remember, no matter how difficult it might be.

The room fell silent again, the weight of everything left unsaid pressing down on you. You could feel Sam’s tension beside you, his fists clenched in his lap as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. You wanted to reach out to him, to offer some kind of comfort, but you weren’t sure what to say. How could you comfort him when you felt just as lost as he did?

Bobby seemed to sense the tension between you, and he let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his graying hair. “Look, I know this is hard. It’s hard for all of us. But we’ll get through it. We always do.”

You nodded, grateful for the reassurance, even if you weren’t entirely sure you believed it. “Thank you, Bobby,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bobby waved off your thanks, his expression softening as he looked at you and Sam. “You’re family,” he said simply. “We take care of our own.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, and you felt a lump forming in your throat. You wanted to believe that everything would be okay, that you’d find Dean and make things right. But as you left Bobby’s office, the reality of the situation settled over you once more.

Dean was out there, a threat to everyone you cared about, and you had no idea where to start looking next. All you could do was keep searching, keep fighting, and hope that somehow, you’d find a way to bring him back before it was too late.

The night had settled into an eerie silence, the kind that left you hyper-aware of every creak and groan of your house. Your bedroom was dimly lit by the soft glow of the lamp on your bedside table, casting long shadows across the walls. You’d been sitting on the edge of your bed for what felt like hours, your mind spinning, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. The revelation that Dean was the mole had shattered something inside you, leaving you feeling lost and hollow. You’d tried to focus on finding him, on stopping him, but every time you closed your eyes, all you could see was his face—the smirk that used to make your heart race, now twisted into something dangerous, something you didn’t recognize.

You knew you should be doing something—anything—but instead, you sat there, paralyzed by the weight of it all. Your hands trembled slightly as you ran them through your hair, the stress of the past few days catching up with you. How had it come to this? Dean, of all people, betraying you, betraying Sam, betraying everything you thought he stood for. You wanted to hate him, but the truth was, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Despite everything, you missed him. You missed the way he used to look at you, the way he could make you feel safe and alive all at once. But now, all of that felt like a distant memory, tainted by the knowledge of what he’d done.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear the door creak open. It wasn’t until you felt a presence in the room—familiar, yet unsettling—that you realized you weren’t alone. Your heart leapt into your throat, and you whipped around, eyes widening in disbelief as you saw him standing there, just inside the doorway.

“Dean…” The word came out as a whisper, a mix of shock and something else you couldn’t quite place.

He looked different. The Dean you knew was always intense, but this—this was something else. His green eyes were hard, almost cold, and there was a darkness in them that made your blood run cold. He was dressed in his usual jeans and leather jacket, but there was an edge to him now, a dangerous confidence that had always been there, but was now fully unleashed.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stand up from the bed, though your legs felt like they might give out at any moment. “What are you doing here?” you demanded, your voice stronger than you felt. “How did you even get in?”

Dean just stared at you for a long moment, his gaze piercing, before he finally spoke. “You left the window unlocked.” His voice was low, rough, the sound of it sending a shiver down your spine. There was something different in his tone—an almost predatory calm that both terrified and thrilled you.

You took a step back, instinctively putting some distance between you. “You need to leave, Dean. Right now. You—” The words caught in your throat. “You shouldn’t be here.”

A slow, humorless smile spread across his face as he took a step forward, closing the gap you’d tried to create. “I shouldn’t be here?” he echoed, his voice dripping with irony. “I think you know that’s not gonna happen, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. The term of endearment used to make you feel warm, cared for. Now, it felt like a weapon, a reminder of what he used to be and what he’d become. You shook your head, trying to clear the fog in your mind. “Dean, please… We can talk about this, but not here. Not like this.”

His smile faltered slightly, a flash of something—anger? hurt?—flickering across his face before it was gone, replaced by that cold, hard mask. “There’s nothing to talk about,” he said flatly. “You and Sam think you can just hunt me down, lock me up? You really think I’d let that happen?”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, the stark reality of what he was saying, what he was willing to do, finally sinking in. “I don’t want to lock you up,” you said, your voice trembling despite your best efforts. “I just want to understand why, Dean. Why are you doing this? Why did you betray us?”

For a moment, just a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of the old Dean, the man you loved, behind those cold eyes. But it was gone almost as soon as it appeared, replaced by something darker, more resolute.

“It’s not that simple,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” you shot back, your desperation starting to bleed through. “I deserve to know, Dean. After everything we’ve been through, I deserve to know why.”

He stared at you, his jaw clenched, and for a moment you thought he might actually tell you, that he might break down the wall he’d built around himself. But then his expression hardened, and he took another step toward you, close enough now that you could feel the heat radiating off him.

“Enough with the questions,” he growled, his voice a rough whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. “You’re not here to understand. You’re here because you can’t stay away.”

The accusation stung because deep down, you knew there was some truth to it. Despite everything, despite knowing what he’d done, you couldn’t stop wanting him. It was like a sickness, an addiction you couldn’t shake.

“No,” you whispered, trying to convince yourself as much as him. “I’m here because I wanted to make you see reason. To remind you of who you are.”

Dean’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist in a grip that was firm but not painful. It was enough to make your heart race, enough to make you acutely aware of how close he was, how easily he could overpower you if he wanted to.

“Who I am?” he echoed, his voice low and dangerous. “I know exactly who I am. And I think you do too.”

Your breath caught in your throat as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “You can try to resist all you want, but we both know how this ends.”

You wanted to argue, wanted to push him away, but your body betrayed you. The feel of his breath against your skin, the heat of his body so close to yours, it was all too much. Despite everything, despite knowing that you should hate him, you couldn’t stop the way your body reacted to him.

“Dean, please…” The words came out as a whisper, but you weren’t even sure what you were asking for. For him to stop? For him to keep going? You didn’t know anymore. All you knew was that you were lost, caught between wanting him and knowing you shouldn’t.

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. His other hand came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a gesture that was surprisingly tender, considering the darkness in his eyes. The touch made you shiver, your resolve crumbling even further.

You looked up at him, your eyes searching his for any sign of the man you used to know. “Why are you doing this?” you asked again, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Why, Dean?”

For a moment, just a moment, you thought you saw something break in his expression, something that looked like guilt or regret. But then it was gone, replaced by that same cold, steely resolve.

“Because this is who I am now,” he said, his voice rough, almost resigned. “And you’re either with me or against me.”

The words hit you like a blow, the finality of them making your heart ache. You wanted to scream, to cry, to beg him to come back to you, but you knew it was useless. This was who he was now, and nothing you said would change that.

But even as you thought that, even as you felt the tears prick at the corners of your eyes, you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning into him, from letting him pull you closer until your bodies were pressed together. The feel of him against you, the heat and strength of him, it was intoxicating, and you hated yourself for wanting it, for needing it.

“Dean…” you whispered, your voice breaking.

He didn’t say anything, just tightened his grip on you, his hand sliding from your face down to your neck, his fingers curling around the back of your head as he tilted your face up to his. For a moment, you thought he might kiss you, and despite everything, you wanted him to. You wanted to lose yourself in him, to forget everything for just a little while.

But instead, he just stared down at you, his gaze intense, almost searching. “Tell me to stop,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Tell me to walk away, and I will.”

The words hung in the air between you, a lifeline you weren’t sure you were strong enough to take. You knew you should tell him to stop, that you should tell him to leave and never come back. But you couldn’t. The truth was, you didn’t want him to stop. You didn’t want him to leave. Despite everything, despite knowing that you should hate him, you still wanted him.

You didn’t say anything, and after a moment, Dean’s expression hardened. “That’s what I thought,” he muttered, almost to himself.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t gentle or tender like the kisses you used to share. This was different. This was rough, demanding, almost desperate. It was like he was trying to claim you, to remind you who was in control. And maybe that was what you needed—maybe that was why you didn’t push him away.

You kissed him back, your hands fisting in his jacket as you pulled him closer, giving in to the need that had been gnawing at you since the moment he walked into the room. It was wrong, you knew that, but in that moment, you didn’t care. All you cared about was the way he made you feel, the way he could make you forget everything else.

Dean’s hands moved to your waist, his grip firm as he pushed you back toward the bed. You went willingly, your heart pounding in your chest as the back of your legs hit the mattress. He broke the kiss just long enough to push you down onto the bed, following you down, his body pressing you into the mattress as he claimed your lips again.

It was all happening so fast, and yet it felt like time had slowed down, every touch, every kiss searing itself into your memory. You knew this was a mistake, that you should stop him, but you couldn’t. You were too far gone, too lost in the feel of him, the taste of him. You’d been craving this, needing it, and now that it was happening, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop it.

Dean’s hands were everywhere—on your waist, your hips, sliding under your shirt to touch your bare skin. You gasped at the feel of his rough hands against your skin, the touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. It was like you were on fire, every nerve ending alive with sensation.

“Dean…” His name slipped from your lips, a plea, a confession. You didn’t even know what you were asking for anymore. All you knew was that you needed him, that you couldn’t let him go.

His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You arched into him, your hands gripping his shoulders as you tried to pull him closer, needing more, needing all of him. It was like a fever, a need so intense it consumed you, and you couldn’t think of anything else but him.

Dean’s hand slid up your thigh, pushing your shirt higher as he went. You gasped, your head falling back against the pillows as his lips found a sensitive spot on your neck, the touch sending a shiver down your spine. It was too much, and yet not enough. You needed more, and he knew it. He could sense it in the way you moved beneath him, in the way you clung to him.

“Is this what you want?” Dean’s voice was rough, almost mocking as he pulled back just enough to look down at you. His eyes were dark, filled with a dangerous intensity that both thrilled and terrified you.

You met his gaze, your breath coming in short gasps. You should say no. You should tell him to stop. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you found yourself nodding, your body betraying you once again.

A slow, almost triumphant smile spread across his face, and he leaned down, capturing your lips in another searing kiss. His hand slid higher, pushing your shirt up and over your head, tossing it aside without a second thought. His lips followed the path of his hands, leaving a trail of heat as he kissed his way down your chest, your stomach.

You were trembling now, your body alight with need and anticipation. Every touch, every kiss was like a brand, searing itself into your skin, your soul. You were losing yourself in him, in the feel of him, and you didn’t know if you’d ever be able to find your way back.

Dean’s hands were rough, his touch possessive as he moved over you, his lips finding every sensitive spot, his hands leaving marks that would bruise by morning. You gasped, moaned, begged for more, even as your mind screamed at you to stop, to remember who he was, what he’d done.

But it was too late. You were too far gone, too lost in the haze of desire and need. This was Dean, and despite everything, despite the betrayal, despite the lies, you couldn’t stop wanting him. You couldn’t stop loving him.

And so you gave in, letting him take you, letting him claim you, even though you knew it was wrong, even though you knew it would destroy you.

His lips latched onto your clit, sucking harshly as he threw your legs over his shoulders, taking it between his teeth for a moment before tracing his name with his tongue. Dean’s fingers came in to break you further, delving into your soaked pussy as he lapped up everything you had to offer until his lips and chin were glistening, but didn’t stop even then.

You didn’t know how long it lasted—minutes, hours, it all blurred together in a haze of heat and need. All you knew was that when it was over, when the storm had passed, you were left trembling, broken, your heart shattered into a million pieces as you came hard and fast, not given time to think or speak.

Dean was still there, his weight heavy on top of you, his breath ragged against your neck when he quickly pounced back up, whipping off his jeans and boxers, his leather jacket and shirt and entering you with one quick snap of his hips. You could feel his heart beating against your chest, strong and steady, a reminder that this wasn’t a dream anymore, that this was real.

You didn’t want it to be real. He’d leave again.

But he removed that thought from your head, pinning your hands above your head, thrusting so hard you’d probably feel it for a week. “So good, baby girl.” Dean growled against your neck, chuckling. “So desperate for me to fuck you raw. I’ll explain everything, I promise.” You couldn’t think, speak, not when he was stripping you of everything in that moment.

Breaking you down and building you back up again as something broken - like him - until he came and you did too a few sloppy thrusts later, Dean’s hard, unrecognisable body collapsing on top of yours like it used to,

For a long moment, neither of you moved, the silence in the room deafening. You didn’t know what to say, what to do. All you could do was lie there, trying to catch your breath, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

Finally, Dean pulled away, rolling off you and onto his back. He didn’t say anything, didn’t look at you. He just lay there, staring up at the ceiling, his expression unreadable.

You turned your head to look at him, your heart aching at the sight of him. He looked so different now, so distant. The man you loved was still there, somewhere beneath the surface, but he was buried deep, hidden behind layers of anger and pain.

“Dean…” You didn’t know what you were going to say, didn’t know if there was anything left to say. But before you could finish, he cut you off.

“Don’t.” His voice was rough, cold, and it made you flinch. “Just… don’t.”

The words hit you like a slap in the face, the finality of them making your chest tighten. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to explain. He didn’t want to be saved.

And that hurt more than anything.

The following morning, you arrived at the FBI headquarters with an uneasy sense of anticipation. The memory of Dean's sudden reappearance in your life, his rough demeanor, and the fraught, emotional aftermath of that encounter left you feeling on edge. Your nerves were still raw, and the uncertainty of the situation made every step feel heavy, every sound magnified.

You and Sam headed straight to Bobby Singer’s office, where you knew you would receive an update on the ongoing investigation. The sense of urgency was palpable, and Sam’s expression was set in determined lines as he opened the door to Bobby’s office.

Bobby was already there, sitting behind his desk with a stack of files neatly arranged before him. His face was etched with concern, and the usual warmth of his expression was tempered by the seriousness of the situation. As you and Sam entered, Bobby glanced up, his gaze sweeping over you with a hint of the resolve he always carried.

“Morning,” Bobby said, his voice carrying the weariness of long hours spent working on a high-stakes case. “I’ve called a meeting. We’re going to need to think outside the box on this one.”

You exchanged a quick look with Sam, both of you wondering what Bobby had in mind. The weight of Dean’s betrayal had pushed you to the edge, and it seemed like the solution would involve something unconventional.

Bobby stood up, his demeanor taking on a more theatrical edge. “We’ve got a team coming together, one that’s going to work outside of the usual Bureau protocols. You’ll see what I mean.”

With a wave of his hand, Bobby began the introductions. It felt like the opening scene of a high-stakes action movie, each name and face meant to signal something important. You stood there, watching and waiting, as Bobby began.

“First up,” Bobby said, his voice taking on a dramatic tone, “we’ve got someone who’s not just a tech genius but also a force to be reckoned with. She’s the one who can hack through the toughest security systems and has a knack for getting things done. Ladies and gentlemen, Charlie Bradbury.”

The door to Bobby’s office opened with a flourish, and in walked Charlie Bradbury. She was a petite woman with an energetic presence, her short red hair styled into a messy bob that seemed to fit her vibrant personality. Her attire was a bit unconventional for an FBI meeting—a graphic tee layered under a plaid shirt, and jeans with sneakers. She gave a quick wave and a bright smile, her enthusiasm evident as she took her place in the room.

“Next,” Bobby continued, “we have Garth Fitzgerald IV. He’s got the smarts, the charm, and a level of resourcefulness that’s hard to match. Garth, why don’t you come on in?”

The door opened again, and Garth Fitzgerald IV strolled in. Garth had an easygoing manner about him, his long brown hair pulled into a casual ponytail. He wore a casual blazer over a graphic tee, and his demeanor was relaxed, almost too relaxed for the gravity of the situation. His bright blue eyes twinkled with a mix of intelligence and mischief, making it clear he was someone who could be counted on in a pinch.

“Now for someone with a bit more of a no-nonsense attitude,” Bobby said. “John Winchester, a Navy SEAL and Bureau veteran. He’s seen it all and survived it all. Let’s see him now.”

John Winchester entered the room with a solid, no-nonsense presence. He was tall and muscular, his uniform impeccably pressed, his hair cut short and neatly styled. His eyes were sharp and alert, constantly scanning the room with a practiced gaze. His stance was rigid, and there was an intensity about him that spoke of years spent in high-stress situations. Despite the seriousness, there was a quiet respect in his posture, indicating that he was here to get results.

“Dad.” Sam said almost breathlessly, getting a curt nod from John.

“Son.” He replied quietly.

“Coming up next,” Bobby said, with a hint of pride, “Agent Jack Kline. Young, but don’t let that fool you. He’s driven, sharp, and has a personal stake in this mission.”

The door swung open to reveal Jack Kline. Jack was in his mid-twenties, his youthful face marked by a determination that belied his age. He wore a perfectly tailored suit, his dark hair slicked back with a bit too much gel. There was an earnestness about him, a fire in his eyes that suggested he was ready to prove himself. He gave a quick nod as he took his place, his posture straight and attentive.

“Rufus Turner is up next,” Bobby said, his voice carrying a note of familiarity. “He’s a personal friend of mine, a man who’s been around the block and knows his way through the worst of situations.”

Rufus Turner ambled in with a relaxed air. He was an older man with a grizzled beard and a weathered face that told tales of a long life lived on the edge. His attire was practical and comfortable—a flannel shirt over a t-shirt and worn jeans. Despite his casual look, there was an air of quiet competence about him. He moved with the ease of someone who knew exactly how to handle himself in any situation.

“And finally,” Bobby said, with a hint of ceremony, “we have MI6 agent Mick Davies. Don’t let his British charm fool you. He’s a seasoned operative with a knack for strategy and an uncanny ability to get results.”

Mick Davies walked in with a smooth confidence. He was impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, his British accent evident as he gave a polite nod to everyone in the room. His dark hair was neatly styled, and his demeanor was polished and controlled, suggesting a refined sense of discipline and professionalism. He glanced around the room with a keen eye, taking in the group with an air of detached interest.

“Why did that feel too much like a movie?” Sam pointed out, extremely confused.

“Get with the times, idjit.” Bobby replied with a grimace.

You, Sam, and Bobby walked down the corridor toward the large conference room where the newly assembled team, unofficially dubbed the “suicide squad” by Bobby, was set to have its first meeting. The mood was a mix of trepidation and reluctant optimism. Each step you took echoed with the weight of the task ahead. You glanced at Sam, who looked as tense as you felt. He caught your eye and offered a small, reassuring smile.

“Ready for this?” Sam asked, his voice carrying a note of humor despite the underlying seriousness.

You shrugged, trying to mask your nervousness with a grin. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Bobby led the way, his demeanor a blend of determined authority and barely concealed exasperation. “Let’s just hope this motley crew can get their act together. We need results, and we need them fast.”

As you entered the conference room, the scene that greeted you was anything but what you had expected. The room, designed for high-stakes meetings and serious discussions, was currently a battleground of personalities. Papers were scattered across the large table, coffee cups and half-eaten snacks littered the surface, and a low murmur of voices competed with the sound of shuffling papers and the occasional burst of laughter.

Charlie was already there, surrounded by a mountain of tech gadgets and open laptops. She was energetically typing away on her keyboard, her eyes darting from one screen to another with frenetic energy. “Just give me a sec, I’m almost through with this encryption!” she called out without looking up.

Garth was sprawled comfortably in one of the chairs, his feet propped up on the table. He was engrossed in a large comic book, occasionally glancing up with a mischievous grin. “Hey, what’s up? Got any cool new cases for us?” he asked cheerfully, waving his comic book around.

John, standing at the window, was peering out with a focused intensity. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, his posture rigid. He barely acknowledged the newcomers, his attention fixed on something only he seemed to see. His frown deepened as he muttered, “We better make sure our perimeter is secure. Can’t be too careful.”

Agent Kline, with his loosely tailored suit and too-gelled hair, was seated at the far end of the table, his gaze darting nervously between his notes and the door. He looked as if he was bracing himself for an incoming storm. “Is this where the briefing starts?” he asked, his accent tinged with a hint of nervous politeness.

Rufus Turner, the weathered veteran, was sitting back in his chair with a cup of coffee in hand. He was wearing a bemused expression as he watched the chaos unfold. “Well, ain’t this a sight,” he said, taking a leisurely sip of his coffee. “Looks like we got ourselves a real circus here.”

Mick was the last to arrive, his sharp suit and neatly combed hair making him stand out even more in the already chaotic room. He entered with a smooth, confident stride, giving everyone a polite nod before taking a seat. “Morning, everyone. I trust we’re all ready to tackle the matter at hand?” he said, his British accent crisp and precise.

Bobby took a deep breath, his face a mask of restrained frustration. “Alright, everyone, let’s get this show on the road. We have a lot to cover, and we need to get organized.”

Charlie, still engrossed in her work, muttered, “Just a minute, Bobby. I’m almost through with decrypting this file. We’re going to need it.”

Garth looked up from his comic book with a raised eyebrow. “Decrypting? Sounds like a real party. How about we get some snacks and make this meeting more fun?”

John, still fixated on the window, grunted in agreement. “We don’t have time for snacks. We need to focus.”

Jack shifted in his seat, trying to catch Bobby’s attention. “Director Singer, if we could have a clear agenda, it might help streamline things.”

Rufus snorted into his coffee. “Streamline things? We haven’t even started, and it’s already a mess.”

Mick, attempting to bring some semblance of order, cleared his throat. “Perhaps a more structured approach would be beneficial. Let’s lay out our objectives clearly.”

Bobby’s patience was visibly wearing thin. He tapped the table with his knuckles, trying to regain control of the meeting. “Alright, everyone, listen up. We’ve got a lot of talent in this room, but we need to focus. The situation is critical, and we can’t afford any more delays. We need to find Dean and resolve this crisis.”

Charlie finally looked up from her screens, her face alight with excitement. “Got it! I’ve got some preliminary data here. We can start by narrowing down his recent contacts.”

Garth folded his comic book with a flourish and sat up straight. “Alright, let’s get to it then. I’m ready for action.”

John let out a huff and moved away from the window. “Fine, but we better not waste time. We need to be meticulous.”

Jack adjusted his suit and glanced at his notes. “I’ll handle the documentation and ensure everything is properly logged. Efficiency is key.”

Rufus shook his head, his expression a mix of amusement and skepticism. “Well, this oughta be interesting.”

Mick straightened in his chair, his demeanor all business. “Let’s proceed with a detailed strategy. We need to ensure that all angles are covered.”

As the team began to settle into their roles, the chaos seemed to simmer down a bit, replaced by a more focused, if still somewhat disorganized, energy. You and Sam exchanged glances, silently acknowledging the irony of the situation. The team was indeed a collection of diverse and conflicting personalities, but maybe, just maybe, that was what would make them effective.

Sam leaned closer and whispered, “Do you think this is going to work?”

You shrugged, a wry smile playing on your lips. “They said so much nonsense in five minutes that I’m not quite sure.”

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[iateyourparents]

fOoL fOr YoU | c.b.

pairing: colby brock x singer!fem!reader

summary: fate has its own ways to connect people who are destined to each other, even after breaking them apart at some point in life.

warnings: kinda short, use of y/n, bad writing and grammar(i’m sorry but english is not my first language)

an: songs used here are fOoL fOr YoU by ZAYN, My stupid heart by Walk off the Earth. Album used in here - Lover by Taylor Swift.

pictures are from pinterest:)

“Come on guys, let me hear you! I know you like this one!” you said to microphone before continuing the song “Cause I’m a fool for you and the things, the things you do…”

You heard crowd clearly and loudly singing with you your debutant song and you couldn’t feel more proud.

Even though since realese of this song you made two whole albums it still was most of your fans’ favorite song, and to be honest, it was yours too.

It was song about your teenage love, how you felt about that one boy that you aren’t even in touch anymore. You wrote fOoL fOr YoU while you still were a lovesick teenager but before you were able to present it to your former muse from these times, you were broken up.

Then, years later you met that amazing man, Charles, who took you under his wings becoming your manager and helped you with realesing your debutant single - fOoL fOr YoU.

And that’s how you became pretty famous and now, here you were playing all around the world for your “we’ll never be the same again” world tour, promoting your newest album.

“Alright, that was so good! Thank you!” you took a break to take a sip of water and then you were back in front of the chanting crowd “Okay, so I wrote this one about my ex who was absolutely awful experience but also taught me a lot.”

You could hear loud screams from a crowd which already knew what song you were about to sing so you just laughed and started singing, crowd following also started shouting lyrics.

“My stupid heart don’t know, I’ve tried to let you go so many times before…”

After few more songs you bided your goodbye to the crowd promising you will be back someday and you got off the stage and met Charles on backstage.

„How was it?” you asked with smile, sipping water.

„That was great!” you could say he was proud „And you were worried you wouldn’t be able to play on arenas.”

„That’s a big step!” you defended yourself with smile „I can’t wait to take a shower, I stink.” you grimaced.

„I won’t disagree.” he laughed and hugged you „Go relax a little before we have to go to tourbus.”

„You too Charlie, I know that you are secretly almost ripping off your hair.”

Now you were supposed to head to Los Angeles where you would play two concerts and then you would have a month long break before starting last part of the tour - Europe.

|||

You were currently sitting at the vanity in your changing room. Your make up artist, Sarah, was doing your make up for your last performance before a break when Charles came into the room.

„Hi” he started.

„Hi Charlie, what’s up?” you could tell he had some offer for you.

„What do you say, you, me and your band go to some club after you come off the stage to celebrate successful tour?”

You looked at him in the mirror and smirked at him.

„Sounds great to me.”

|||

You and your crew sat in some club. You weren’t drunk but it felt good to feel more easy with alcohol in your system after stressful couple of weeks.

„My forever favorite moment is when this one fan threw his boxers on scene and they landed perfectly in front of y/n. Her face was priceless.” Mark, the drummer, laughed. You loved talking about memories from the tour but that memory actually was traumatizing since it was the first time ever when something like this happened.

„I felt attacked.” you joked and took a last sip of your sweet drink „I’ll go order next one. Somebody wants something?”

You heard chorus of no’s and assurances that they have almost full glasses so you just walked towards the counter and waited for a bartender to end taking someone else’s order.

„Your concert was awesome.” you heard next to you. When you turned to the side you saw someone you thought you would never see again in person.

Infamous ghost hunter, your ex and an old muse of yours.

Cole Brock.

Or rather, Colby.

„Thank you” you smiled „Fancy seeing you here.”

„I live in LA.” he explained „I liked this one song, what was it? Fool for you?”

You smirked and shook your head „Yeah, I like it too.”

„So, was I good muse?” he winked and you laughed. Of course he would know it was about him. You’re pretty sure that when you were together you were sometimes telling him parts of this song.

„Excellent, thank you.”

„I’m always happy to help, so if you will need some new music, here’s my number.” he handed you a piece of paper with some numbers.

„I’ll make sure to call if i’ll need anything.” you winked at him and he laughed.

„I hope so.” he looked behind his back where a blonde boy, Sam, called him „I have to go but i’ll be waiting for your call.”

|||

If some days later you actually called Colby, nobody have to know. And if that meeting ended with him tangled in your sheets, also nobody have to know. And if this was more than one time occurrence then also nobody have to know.

And if your next album called ’Lover’ was about him and everyone knew it was about him, then it’s okay.

And if you both tattooed ’fOoL fOr YoU’ on your hips on the day of your wedding, then it’s great even if everybody knows.

You two really were like lovesick fools.

[bgomtori]

☆ consume - c.bg

synopsis - you have a major exam coming up, after realising that you've been neglecting your health, beomgyu decides to step in.

-> beomgyu x reader

-> established relationship, high school au!

-> warnings! yn kinda starves herself and beats herself up for not remembering anything :( , pressure from studies, mental breakdowns and burnouts. yn is kind off a studies>you typa girl.

-> note! im having a big exam coming up soon, 'm extremely anxious.. so i kinda wanna write this to relieve somw stress :)

pressure, high standards, academic validation, from your parents, teachers and even yourself were taking a toll on you. staying coped up in your room for weeks, drowning yourself in revision notes, study guides, and past year papers. one may think that you were insane for being able to sit by your desk for such long hours, you thought the same too, but anything for your parents to tell you that they were proud of your achievements, anything to make yourself satisfied with yourself.

hours of cramming notes, and self study was definitely not easy. you'd often find yourself placing your phone under your pillow, preventing yourself from getting distracted by any notification from your friends or boyfriend. it wasn't any better, you'd often skip meals, your parents were usually out till late into the night, making it easier for you since no one forced you out of the room to eat. of course you'd take showers, make yourself refreshed before continuing your long study sessions, snacking on a few energy bars and drinks to pull all nighters to finish a chapter or subject. it was definitely not healthy, but this was like a routine for you when the year end exams were nearing.

you wouldn't be surprised if you arrived at school to see a panicked beomgyu standing by your lockers, glancing at his phone every now and then, wondering why you haven't replied to his calls or texts, he had a brief idea why, but he needed confirmation. you greeted him as per usual, your signature bright smile appearing on your lips, yet why does your eyes still look so tired? beomgyu's face was perplexed, were you staying up again.

"why haven't you replied my messages or calls yn?" beomgyu raised his eyebrows, you looked at him in confusion, switching on your phone to see 38 messages and 7 missed calls from beomgyu. you chuckled, wiping your sweaty palms against your shirt.

"i kinda turned off my phone, and placed it under my pillow so i wouldn't get distracted.. sorry." you apologised, feeling guilty, all beomgyu did was want to care for you, yet you're placing your studies over him. beomgyu sighed, combing his hair through his slender fingers, "i'm just worried for you yn.." his pout made you giggle, your hand patting beomgyu's squishy cheeks in reassurance, "i'll be alright."

"oh right, i'm staying back after school, one on one session with my teacher so you don't need to wait for me 'kay?" you informed, interlocking your arm to beomgyu's as you walked down the crowded hallway. beomgyu hummed in response to you, giving you a chaste kiss on your lips. "i'll see you in your classroom later." beomgyu bidded you goodbye, leaving you to make your way to your seat. scrolling on your phone, you read the messages your friends sent you, replying to all of them, apologising for worrying them so much.

"yn!" hanni called out, dragging a seat towards your desk, the scratchy sound against the floor tiles made you flinch in disgust. "what is it hanni." you replied, freezing at the sudden physical contact of her hugging you like a koala.

"you're not burning the midnight oil again right." hanni grumbled, removing herself from your shoulders. you shook your head, in hopes that she'd believe you. "lies! i know you all too well yn, this month is where you constantly shove your face in textbooks and study guides!" hanni basically shouted for the whole class to hear. you had to quickly shut her up by cupping your hand around her mouth.

"fine, you got me, but it's not like i'll die.." you whispered out the last part, making her gasp dramatically. you shushed her again, placing your index finger on your lips. "you need to take care of yourself yn, i don't want to see a repeat of last year ever again!" hanni nagged, similar to your mother, folding her arms as well. you felt yourself laugh nervously, you knew that you were slowly crawling back into the dark hole that you always find yourself in whenever the final exam season was soon.

classes went by slowly, you found yourself zoning out, bopping your head due to fatigue, you should have bought an energy drink during lunch earlier. after what seemed like hours, you last class was over, students from your class immediately left once the teacher dismissed them, you stayed put, waiting for everyone to leave while you slowly walked towards your teacher.

"sorry for troubling you ms lee.. but i really want to do well this year." you bowed, taking a seat infront of her. she shook her head, "you're fine yn, i can see that you're putting in the effort, that's what i'm proud of." you felt yourself grow speechless, the few words that you've been wanting to hear from your parents came out of your teacher's mouth instead. you didn't know what to do or say, you gave her a quick smile before you two started your little tutoring session.

"you're doing just fine my dear, you'll do just as well for the upcoming end-of-years." ms lee patted your shoulder, ushering you towards the classroom door. you bowed, bidding her goodbye. a sudden wave of negative thoughts started crashing over you, why? you didn't want to grow attached to a teacher that gave you the care and concern your parents should have given, along with the thoughts of you wanting to do extremely well for ms lee, for yourself, and even your parents even if it did nothing. you just didn't want anyone to be disappointed in you. you plugged in your earphones to cancel out your overpowering thoughts, blasting your shared playlist with beomgyu.

ynn ★: i just ended, going home rn..

ynn ★: wyd?

gyu :> : taking a break from revision, kinda lazy today

gyu :> : it's getting late, go home safely mkay? i love you

ynn ★: i love you too gyu :)

he was so sweet to you, you didn't deserve this especially how you were treating him. you prioritised your studies over him, hence not giving him the same amount of attention. you unlocked your front door, immediately heading into your room to start work. you showered, did your facial routine, and turned on your nightlamp. your table was messy, filled with all, notebooks, textbooks, loose practice papers, and stationary. you groaned, you weren't feeling like it, but you couldn't stop. you knew that you'd regret it.

each word you wrote looked like scribbles, you spelt things wrong. why wasn't anything going your way right now? why is your mind going haywire, was it because of earlier? tears pricked your eyes, you couldn't do this anymore, you felt overwhelmed from everything, mentally exhausted in general. you slapped your face, in hopes that you'd stop crying but it continued, you were breaking down, losing complete control of your feelings. first time after a year, sure you've cried many times this year, and past years, however, this felt like your worst one yet.

you quickly picked up your phone, you wanted beomgyu, you needed him to console you. hitting the call button, your fingers were trembling, soft pleas coming out of your mouth for him to hurry up.

"yn?" his voice called out, it was rare for you to call him so suddenly. you sniffled, bringing your phone's mic towards your lips, "please, come over.. you have my keys, just come please gyu." you stuttered, unable to speak properly due to how dry your throat was. you could hear from beomgyu's end how frantic he was, him grabbing his keys to dashing out of his house. "i'll be there in 3, please wait yn." you hummed, ending the call. you replied beomgyu's messages, his attempt to keep you distracted, but your thoughts were too overpowering, you continued sobbing, your fingers digging into your thighs, scratching them from time to time.

"yn." beomgyu whispered, closing your bedroom door, locking it just in case your parents suddenly came home, and saw you in this state. you hiccuped, turning towards him, beomgyu looked at you with concern, this was the first time he has seen you like this after a long time. he gave you his hoodie that he knew gave you comfort, before pulling you into a tight embrace. you continued crying on his shoulder, probably making a wet mess on his shirt right now, but beomgyu didn't care. beomgyu's fingers rubbed the back of your head, whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

"you're okay now yn, it's alright. let it all out." beomgyu mumbled, his soothing, calming voice, making you feel less like shit. you felt yourself slowly easing up, pulling away from beomgyu's comfortable shoulder. beomgyu took a piece of tissue from the box at the corner of your desk, blowing your nose for you, his thumb wiping away the single tear falling from your face.

"let's lay in bed, i'll make you some instant ramen alright?" beomgyu rubbed your cheek, before aidding you towards your bed, he made sure that you were comfortable before he went to your kitchen to prepare some samyang, your favourite. you laid there on your bed, scrolling on your phone, still suffering with a stuffed nose, but you could smell beomgyu's scent on the hoodie he gave you, consoling your thoughts.

the aroma of the spicy carbonara samyang filled your nostrils, making you sit up. you grabbed the bowl beomgyu passed to you, slurping it up to your heart's content. "nice?" beomgyu asked, sitting on the edge of your bed, his head propped his head onto the palm of his hand, watching you with gentle eyes. you nodded your head, chewing on the cheesy noodles. you twirled the noodles around the chopsticks, tilting them towards beomgyu, wanting him to eat them. beomgyu took a big bite, savouring the creamy, spicy sensation of the noodles.

"i think i should be a chef." beomgyu joked, trying to make you feel better. you giggled, placing the empty bowl on the nightstand next to your bed. you signalled beomgyu to lay next to you, wanting to cuddle with him in bed. beomgyu obliged, allowing you to nuzzle into the crook of his neck, the vibration of his humming, made you feel relaxed. your body was practically on top of beomgyu, while you cling onto him like your life depended on it. you looked up to stare at beomgyu, through your fluttering eyelashes, giving his jaw a chaste kiss.

"hm?" beomgyu hummed, using his free hand to stroke your soft hair, you pouted slightly, still snifflinf a little from your breakdown. your fingers laced around his as he used his thumb to rub your knuckles gently, assuring your that everything is in control now.

"i love you beom." you muttered, loud enough for him to hear, "i'm sorry for suddenly worrying you, i don't know, my first instinct was to call you." you rambled, apologising for being such a burden to him, you felt tears slowly welling up in your eyes again. you said whatever concerned was distracting you, letting out a few tears.

"it's just so tiring to try to make everyone around me proud of me when no one even cares, not even my parents. at this point i'm doing it for myself, for my own validation, but i can't see any improvement, or just something that i can take pride in." you choked out, full on ranting to beomgyu while he stayed quiet, rubbing your hand in small circular motions. his eyes stayed on your figure, making sure that you know he's listening to you with all ears.

"i'm sorry if i'm ever a bad girlfriend to you, you give me so much attention, love, and care, but i can't seem to reciprocrate it, i love you so much, but i don't know how to prove that to you.. i'm afraid that'll you'll leave me for someone better, someone that'll shower you with affection." you apologised, reasoning yourself. beomgyu's eyebrows were knitted together, how could you say that? you were the best thing that happened in his life.

"yn, you know i don't care if you don't provide me the same amount of adoration or anything, as long as i know that you're okay, and that you're still here to stay by my side. then that's all i ask for. i'm honest." beomgyu carressed your cheek, while your lips trembled, your eyes glossy, blinking back the tears threathening to fall out. beomgyu's plump lips curled up, pecking your lips.

"just don't overwork yourself, i hate seeing you like this, you make me worried." beomgyu warned, you slightly chuckled, "i'll try to improve myself for you gyu." reassuring him.

[lomlhwa]

vocal training (k.th)

paring: vocal coach!taehyun x idol!reader

preview: you've been working with taehyun for the past year and a half to improve your voice for your debut. after so much time building tension, taehyun finds that he has a... different sound that he wants to hear come out of you. maybe even help you relieve some stress about your upcoming debut.

tags/warnings: fem reader, reader is so oblivious to taehyun's crush on her, so much kissing, taehyun consent king, thigh riding, multiple orgasms, fingering, auralism, hair pulling, praise, degrading, pet names (baby, doll, babe, my love, good girl, slut), unprotected penetration (wrap it before you tap it), orgasm denial, reader just getting bent over taehyun's mixing desk, creampie

trigger warnings: kinda unconsensual audio recording but it's literally only mentioned right at the end.

wc: 1.5k

song recs for this fic: perfume by dojaejung, la girls by charlie puth, my house by 2pm, deja vu by ateez, they wanna fuck by kim petras, dangerous woman by ariana grande

a/n: if you want your pussy domestically abused, hit my line. with that, nevvie out 🫡

you try again to hit the falsetto taehyun’s been trying to get out of you. yet again, your voice breaks right before you hit the right note. you rip the headphones off and groan in frustration. 

you've been trying to hit this note for weeks. the one time you managed to hit it, you weren't even recording. you'd come into the studio early to practice, in hopes you'd be able to impress your coach by hitting the note first try when he gets here. he always made you feel special when you managed to hit a difficult note. hugs, kisses on the cheek, anything to be mildly touchy. 

you almost thought he might have a crush on you. but why would your vocal coach like you as anything more than his student or his friend? you had started to like taehyun because of his touchy-ness but you would never tell him. there’s no way he would see you the same way.

he arrives at the studio to see you sitting on the floor beyond frustrated with yourself. you bang your head against the sound proofed wall behind you, trying to figure out what you’re doing wrong. he giggles to himself before opening the door to the recording room. 

“you’re belting. you’re supposed to just let it flow, baby,” taehyun says as he opens the door to the recording room where you currently reside. you sigh and throw your lyric sheets in his general direction. “i don’t know how to not belt it,” you groan and shove your face in your hands. 

he gets behind you as best he can and hooks his arms under your armpits, lifting you up off the floor. “a falsetto is a head voice tone and you, doll, are using your chest voice. you just gotta shift where you’re singing from and you’ll hit it,” he puts the headphones back on your head, readjusting the mic to your level. he demonstrates the note with his own head voice, impressing you in the process. the fact that your male vocal coach can hit female falsettos never fails to amaze you. 

he walks back out of the recording room, settling into his chair in front of the mixing board. “i don’t think i’m physically capable of doing that,” you say into the mic, your voice booming into the other room. he laughs before pressing the intercom button and saying, “babe, i know you’re capable. you’re just pushing yourself too hard.” you whine, not wanting to keep trying.

“alright, come on, head voice,” he reminds you, “i know you’ve got that note somewhere in that beautiful voice of yours.” you do a couple vocal warm ups to prepare to try and get yourself into your head voice. he cues the backtrack and you wait a moment for your cue to sing. you sing the first couple of verses with no mistakes. a small musical bridge hits and you prepare yourself to sing your high note. but, much to your dismay, your voice cracks again, ruining this part of the recording. 

you throw the headphones off and yell, which takes over the other room’s sounds. you throw your pages around again, losing your cool. “y/n, come out here please,” taehyun says over the intercom. you trudge out of the studio and out to face your vocal coach. “you’re still belting,” you open your mouth to retort with some smartass comment but he pulls you onto his lap, wrapping arm around your waist to caress your back. 

“if you keep forcing the note, you’re going to ruin your vocal chords. we don’t want that right before your debut, do we, doll?” he sounds so condescending that it sends chills down your spine. he wraps both arms around you, pulling you down to rest your full body weight on his hardened member. you look at him, your mouth slightly agape and your eyes wide. 

“taehyun what are you-” he shakes his head, shushing you. he grips your hips with his hands, rocking you back and forth in his lap. your hands find purchase on his shoulders to keep yourself grounded. his hands fall away and your hips continue on their own. taehyun holds your jaw with one of his hands, forcing you to look at him. a small groan falls from your lips at the contact. 

“do you want some… extra voice training?” he asks. you know what he really means and your mind is so foggy that all you can do is not and make a small noise of agreement. “i need words, baby,” he says, tracing your throat and jawline with his pointer finger. he shifts you over to his thigh before flexing it, sending a spike of pleasure through you. “yes! yes please,” you cry out. 

he breathes out a few curses before connecting your lips. his lips are plump and soft. he licks over your bottom lip, relishing in the taste of your cherry chapstick. you catch the tip of his tongue between your lips, giving it a harsh suck before welcoming it into your mouth fully. 

his hand travels down to the small of your back to encourage you to rock your hips on his thigh. you let out a shaky breath as taehyun helps you set a steady pace. you hold his face in your hands as he kisses down your neck, licking over the spots where dark marks are sure to appear. “that’s it, baby. use me to get off,” he says, his voice low and raspy. his words send a new jolt of pleasure through you, your hips picking up their pace. 

“that’s a good girl. good fucking girl,” his groans against your ear. your hands move from his face to the back of his neck, tugging on his hair. “go on, doll, cum for me.” your hips stutter as your high crashes over you. taehyun talks you through it, whispering small praises about how good you are for him. 

“i would love to taste you, but i think i might explode if i’m not inside you in the next 30 seconds.” that’s the only warning he gives you before getting you off his lap and bent over his mixing desk. he reaches over to turn off the mixer, not wanting your bodyweight to accidentally mess with something. he tugs your pants down to your ankles, not even bothering to take them off you fully. 

his finger traces the wet patch on your panties before tugging your panties off too. he grabs your hair, tugging your head back before saying; “i’m going to fuck you until you can hit the fucking high note.” your eyes roll into the back of your head as he shoves into you. he sheathes himself fully, but doesn’t move. you wiggle around, trying to get something out of him.

“sing the note,” he emphasizes his words with a thrust accompanying each word. you clear your throat, preparing your voice box to try and hit the note he wants. when your voice cracks again, he lets out a sinister laugh. “aww, you stupid slut. guess you don’t get to cum,” he tugs your hair again before setting a borderline abusive pace. the sounds of skin slapping and your high pitched moans fill the room.

“oh so you can moan at the right pitch but you can’t fucking sing at the right pitch? absolutely pathetic,” his words have an extremely mean tone and it makes you clench around him. he makes a ‘tsk’ sound when you clench. he jerks your head back again, leaning down to kiss you. your ass jiggles when he thrusts harder into you. you groan against his mouth, your high creeping up on you.

“gonna-mmf cum,” you manage to say. he shakes his head, pulling away from your lips. “ah, ah, ah, i don’t think so,” he stops all his movements, causing your high to begin to fall away. you make a crying sound, whining at him denying you your second orgasm. 

“hit. the. fucking. note,” he growls. you look into his eyes; his pupils are blown and his hair is sticking to his sweaty forehead. he has his bottom lip caught between his teeth, admiring your half naked body underneath him. you open your mouth to sing and you finally get the note. 

"i'm so fucking proud of you, my love," his hips pick up their aggressive page again. "i knew you could do it." you squeal, kicking your feet at your sensitivity. you know your high is gonna hit sooner rather than later. you're barely gasping out breaths as he abuses your hole with his throbbing cock. 

you can tell his own orgasm is building at the way his grunts have become louder. "where do you want it, baby?" he asks, basically edging himself to wait for your answer. "i-inside p-please taehyun," you mutter, your orgasm crashing into you like a tsunami. 

he hits you with one last thrust before filling you up to the brim with his seed. he admires the way your wet, hot sex keeps him swallowed in, sucking him dry. you finally collapse on the mixing board, your arms too worn out to keep holding your torso up.

"hey, let's get you home," taehyun says while pulling your pants and underwear back up your legs. "but don't i have to hit the note on recording?" you ask, confused while he helps you stumble to the door.

"you already did. i was recording the whole time."

© lomlhwa 2023