#and copy. watch and copy. patterns. nods

[oceantornadoo]

protective ex-husband!simon, implied violence/break-in

“i know! and that’s when i told her-“ you paused, your hand halfway to the keys at the bottom of your purse. your apartment door was open, a menacing sliver of darkness awaiting you. “hey, i’m going to have to call you back.” you ended the call with your friend, slowly backing away from your door. shit. you knew you locked the door when you left for work, and no one else had a copy of your key. a creeping sensation came over you, like someone was watching from within. slowly, you retreated, taking the elevator down to your apartment’s lobby as the anxiety crawled through your body. you wracked your brain, wondering if you should call the police. wondering if they would even believe you. there was only one call to make.

“come on, pick up.” you tapped your foot impatiently as your ex husband took forever to answer the phone. it was all you could do to not think about your home being violated, about a potential stalker or date gone wrong.

“‘ello?”

“si- simon, it’s me.”

“i know, lovie. that’s why i picked up.” you let out a quiet sob of relief at his voice, the bottle on your emotions starting to leak.

“what’s wrong?” his voice changed, immediately hearing your silent tears. he could always read you too well. “i don’t want to bother you but” you hiccupped. shit. “but my apartment door was open and i’m pretty sure i closed it, i usually do. i don’t know if im being silly but now im in the lobby and im just scared, simon.” there was a fumbling sound, the echoes of simon zipping up his jacket and pulling on his shoes.

“go to that cafe across the street, dove. go get yourself one of those overpriced hot chocolates. i’ll be there in 15.”

9 minutes later, your shaking hands were tapping random patterns on the cafe table, unable to raise your drink to your mouth without spilling it. your eyes were locked onto the wood grain, counting lines to distract yourself.

suddenly, a gloved hand covered yours. you looked up and there he was, your ghost in all his glory. you forgot everything for a second, forgot the past arguments and the strained silences, and flung yourself into his arms. you breathed in his comforting scent of pinewood that masked his cigarettes, a cologne you got him four years ago for christmas. your face was wet, and as he pulled you back to check you for injuries, his thumb brushed a stray tear away from your face. you didn’t even realize you were crying.

“‘s okay, baby. i’m here now. give me your keys.” you fumbled for your keys, purse strap sliding off your shoulder as your hands shook too much to keep it balanced. simon caught it gracefully, finding your keys in the same pocket you always kept them. “stay here. i’ll be back.” you nodded instinctively. only when you saw his figure retreat to your apartment building, clothed in all black like a figure of death, you realized you hadn’t told him your new apartment number.

twenty minutes passed. simon’s presence had worked like medicine as your heart rate has now dropped back down to normal, your hands stable enough to finish your drink. any other person would be worried for simon’s safety, but you knew the only person you should be concerned for was your intruder.

“you’re stayin’ with me tonight.” he was back, looking exactly the same. he wasn’t even winded. “thank you simon, but don’t be ridiculous. i can get a hotel. you live so far from my work anyways.” he approached you, crowding into your space as he leaned over you, even with a cafe table in between. “consider it payment then.” he tilted your chin up with his left hand as he hid his other one, covered with blood, in his pocket. “one way or another, you’re in my bed tonight, dove.” you gulped at that. “and i’ve got riley in the car. you wouldn’t abandon him, would you?” of course he had gotten your cat when he checked out your apartment. riley hated men, but never simon. cheeky bastard.

“you win.”

fast forward a couple of hours and you were getting ready for bed at simon’s, belly full from the meal he had made you. riley made himself at home on the living room couch, of course. “he’s in my spot.” you gestured to your cat on the couch. “wha’ d’ya mean?” your husband simon was now in sweats and sweats only, clean from the shower he had after you both got home back to his place. you pretended not to see him methodically wash blood out of his fingernails, reasoning quite easily with yourself that it was for a good cause.

“my couch for tonight.” simon moved toward you and you avoided his eyes, trying not to stare at how beautiful he still was. muscular but thick, torso adorned with scars you used to trace on sunday mornings when you both stayed in bed until the afternoon. he gripped your chin, forcing you to make eye contact. “told’ya you were in my bed tonight, dovie.” you swallowed and he watched your throat move, memories of you swallowing something else countless times rising to the surface.

“don’t be silly, simon. that would cross a line.”

“what line?” his arms were crossed now, drawing your attention to an unfamiliar tattoo right above his heart. a small dove.

“we’re not together anymore, simon.”

“you’re still my wife.”

silence. he was always like this, pushing you until you broke. he was unwilling to compromise, even on the smallest of issues. usually you’d fight him, spit fire until you lost your voice. tonight though, you were reminded of how he was the only person you were able to call, the only one committing dark sins without asking, all for your safety. instead, you threw your hands up and walked into his bedroom, mechanically stripping as you put on one of his shirts and a pair of boxers. you felt his eyes on you, burning a hole through the fabric. you were tired, so tired of this push and pull.

“what.” you whipped around, all venom. his eyes were impossibly soft, holding yours with a peaceful caress. “you’re as beautiful as the day i lost you.” your fire went out at that. “you’re just trying to get me naked.” you mumbled, looking down as you fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. you watched as his body came into view, pressing your forehead against his bare skin.

“could see you in a thousand layers and you’d still be the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen, dove.” ever so slowly, your hands crept up his body to grab his shoulders and neck. he picked you up with ease, turning the lights off and tucking you both in bed. “when did you get the tattoo?” you asked in the dark.

“3 months and 12 days ago.” what would have been your 3rd year of marriage, your anniversary. you lowered your head and gave him a kiss right where the tattoo was. “can we talk about it in the morning?” you snuggled into him, that familiar scent calming you once again. “always, dove.” he kissed your forehead, smiling in the dark.

----

idk why im obsessed with the break-in and simon to the rescue trope but its fueling me lately

[arbitrarykiwi]

omfg i think i speak for everyone when i say we need more thanos and nam gyu boyfriend content bc OHMYGOD i need them i need them to pass ME like a blunt

Passed Around

omg uhhh..... YES??!!! there's just somethin about the idea of smoking with them and then getting absolutely RUINED by both of them. you would have to pull me out of a room with them by the back of my neck like a fucking DOG!!! I NEED BOAF EM SO BAYYYYDDDDD!!!! I hope you enjoy anon!!! <3

Warnings: smut (18+), bro..I took this and fucking ran with it omg, weed smoking, sex while high, threesome, oral (m and f receiving), they both eat you out at the same time, choking, squirting, multiple orgasms, recording sex (they both do it), missionary, doggy style, deep throating/ throat fucking, name calling (bitch, slut, whore) ((but they really mean it endearingly)) , facial, lil bit of cum play, spit, spanking, Thanos slaps you like once (not in a mean way), fuckeddumb! Reader, probably more, read at your own risk

If anyone comes across this that’s not familiar with my profile- first off hiiii!- second, this request bounces of a previous thangyu x reader request you can find here - it’s not needed to read it before this, just wanted to put it here if you wish to find more of my thangyu content :D

If someone asked if you were lucky, you’d say yes without a doubt in your mind. And it’s all because of your two doting boyfriends!

Thanos and Nam-gyu were admittedly like night and day, they couldn’t be more different from each other- but that’s what makes them work so well! You got the best of both worlds.

You hardly could ever spend a moment alone, they always had to be by you. If they both weren’t there, one of them was. But thankfully tonight, you have both of them at your sides. You’re sandwiched in between them on Nam-gyu’s bed. A blunt is being passed between the three of you, the room smoky and only lit by the bright colors of the TV that blares the show you guys were watching. You think you guys are on your third or fourth blunt of the night- you weren’t sure they just kept rolling anytime one was finished, and you just kept smoking them.

You’re laid back against the headboard of Nam-gyu’s bed. Your hooded eyes watching the TV with a dazed expression. The warmth of their body’s only helping to relax you further than you already are.

They’re curled around you, Thanos was to your left, he had his arm slung around you, your head on his shoulder, one of his tattooed fingers playing with your hair. He’d alternate between stroking your hair or just having his hand slung over your shoulder, going under the collar of your shirt to grab at one of your breasts- it wasn’t even sexual, he just loved the feel of your tits in his hands. It calmed him down! At least that’s what he always told you.

Nam-gyu is lying on top of your stomach, legs entangled with yours. His cold hands are under your shirt, drawing random patterns against the skin of your stomach. Your hand is in his hair, twirling the black strands around your fingers. Anytime you’d poke his head to pas him the blunt, he’d remove his hands from under your shirt to reach up and take the blunt, hit it, then pass it back to Thanos- returning his hands to under your shirt. Following in Thanos’ footsteps as he’d reach his hand up to your other breast that Thanos wasn’t occupying and copy his movements.

And that’s how you guys stay for a bit as you smoked, Thanos and Nam-gyu would occasionally have a hand on one of your tits, removing themselves from you only to hit the blunt.

You were either too high, too entranced in the show on TV or in such a calm haze by their gentle touches and presence, or a mixture of all three- but you seem to miss the look your two boyfriends give each other. It’s a silent confirmation that they both want the same thing-you. There’s a hungry glint in both of their eyes as they stare at each other. Thanos nods, his grin widening as he nudges you with his arm that’s skin around your shoulder.

Thanos takes a long drag, sucking in the smoke, and holding it in for a moment. You think he’s trying to show you something, why else would he get your attention by nudging you like that? You also feel Nam-gyu twist his head against your stomach. You look down to find his chin resting against your flesh, looking up at you with red tinted eyes and a hazy smile, “Hi my baby.” You coo quickly, with a confused giggle, hand running over his hair making sure to acknowledge him- god forbid you give Thanos more attention than Nam-gyu.

You’re then quickly turning your face back to Thanos, trying to see what he wanted to show you. You watch him as he stares at you with his hooded eyes. He lets his breath go, the yellow-ish smoke is billowing out of his mouth. Your eyes widen, “ooohhh! It’s yellow, you guys picked up really good shit this time.” You praise, figuring that’s that he wanted to show you. But it wasn’t.

They both chuckle, Thanos passes the blunt to Nam-gyu, reaching over you and skipping your turn in the rotation completely. You’re pulled out of your stoned haze as you whip your head to look at Thanos accusatorially. “What the fuck?! You skipped me.” You pout looking over to Nam-gyu who smirks at you and hits the blunt, staring at you mockingly from his spot against your stomach.

The purple haired man to your left just laughs, leaning in and beginning to trail his nose up your neck, inhaling your scent. His hand, now free from the blunt runs up your stomach, over your chest, and up your neck to your jaw, turning your face back to him. “You don’t need to be hittin’ that Señorita, you’re gonna be busy.” He mumbles, a wicked grin on his face as he brings you closer to him, capturing your lips in his.

You sigh into it, it’s slow and full of tongue. You always hate how easily they can make you melt. Your lips move in sync, Thanos’ tattooed hands come to cup the sides of your face, pulling you impossibly closer. His tongue is exploring your mouth, tasting you for all you’re worth.

You let out a surprised sound that was akin to a squeak as from your right side, Nam-gyu’s hands are all over you, gripping at your waist as he pushes your shirt up to begin leaving open mouthed kisses on your stomach, the blunt hanging loosely between his fingers as he pushes himself upwards to begin to kiss along your neck as you continue kissing his purple haired counterpart part. Thanos is suddenly pulling away from the kiss, biting your bottom lip as he retreats. His hands push your face to your right and immediately Nam-gyu’s lips are on yours.

Any time they do something like this, pushing you or guiding you to the other when they’re finished- truly sharing you rather than competing with each other- it has you spinning. The contrast between Thanos’ desperate, rough kiss to Nam-gyu’s forceful and needy one already has you feeling hot and bothered.

Nam-gyu always kisses you so fervently, like you’re a dream that he never wants to wake up from. His hands are working up your waist to your breasts, kneading the soft flesh in his hands. Thanos hisses, feeling his cock harden as he watches you two make out, gritting his teeth and drawing in a shaky breath when he sees one of Nam-gyu’s hands remove itself from under your shirt and come up to grip at your throat as he pulls away from the kiss.

It’s an instant reaction when his grip tightens on your neck, you whine out desperately, eyebrows upturning and pupils blowing wide. You can hear the both of them chuckle. Nam-gyu is pulling you up, guiding you by your throat to a kneeling position. Thanos situates himself behind you, hands reaching up under your shirt, immediately beginning to pull at your perky nipples. Thankfully, you hardly ever wore a bra when you were with them- why would you? It just gets in the way more often than not.

“See… all it takes is me choking her and she gets so worked up f’us. ‘S like a lil on switch ain’t it?” Nam-gyu chides with a mocking tone, punctuating his words by squeezing your throat harder. It causes you to bite your lip, your body temperature sky rocketing, you can feel your pussy begin to throb. The pressure that’s added to your neck causes you to arch back into Thanos, pressing your ass back into him.

You hear Thanos chuckle darkly as he hooks his chin over one of your shoulders his hands dropping from your breasts to your hips, his fingers slipping below the waist band of your shorts- which were actually a pair of Nam-gyu’s boxers- to feel you against his palms entirely- he honestly wished you weren’t even wearing those stupid fucking boxers, they just get in the way. He’s pulling your ass back onto his hardening cock, “I know right…” he hums back in response to Nam-gyu who’s still using one hand to hold your throat while the other works to roughly grope at your breasts.

Thanos begins to grind his erection on your ass, you can only begin to breath heavier when you feel the thick heat of his cock begin to grow against your back. “Cute little thing just loves being man handled…” Thanos mocks into your ear. “Bet she’s already dripping just by us fondling her a bit, so easy…” he adds, you can hear the mocking pout in his voice although you can’t see his face.

Nam-gyu is staring at you like you’re an ancient greek statue of a long forgotten goddess that he wants to devote himself to and devour, and you can only imagine that Thanos facial expression is similar. “Of course she is…” Nam-gyu hums, his hand pulls away from your breast, pulling your nipple with as he does.

You bite down on your bottom lip harder, your eyes squeeze shut and you let out a soft moan. It makes both of them become infinitely harder. As Nam-gyu releases your nipple, Thanos is leaning further over your shoulder. They both watch hungrily as the flesh bounces back to your chest, jiggling a bit before settling back into place. “Why don’t you check? Check to see how wet her slutty pussy is just from us barely messin’ with her.” Thanos directs at Nam-gyu.

Thanos is pulling away quickly working to pull your (his) shirt over your head. When the shirt’s is thrown off to the side, Thanos’ hand replaces Nam-gyu’s on your throat, pulling you back into him. His mouth is on your neck, teeth biting into the flesh. His other tattooed hand is attaching to the swell of your breasts his thumb rubbing over your nipples before pinching.

At the same time one of Nam-gyu’s hands is gripping at your hip and the other is slipping his hand down into the waistband of the boxers you’re wearing. His hand molds to your pussy, letting out a low growl when he feels how wet you’re becoming.

“She’s fucking soaked…” he directs towards Thanos, you can tell by his voice that with his discovery, a new level of hunger is reached within the dark haired male. Nam-gyu moves his hand on your hip reaches up and pulls one of Thanos’ hand off your breasts, “outta my way.” He grumbles before his mouth is around your nipple.

Thanos is behind you, grumbling under his breath, his cock rutting into your back harder, “fuckin’ selfish.” He scolds Nam-gyu. He releases his hand on your throat to drop it to the breast that his counterpart wasn’t occupying, “yer already playin with her pussy, bro, c’mon.” He continues. It only makes your chest heave faster. Something about them fighting over you always made your heart and pussy flutter.

Nam-gyu’s mouth always was, and currently is relentless. He’s sucking your nipple into his mouth and moaning into your flesh like he’s in heaven. His fingers are practically finger painting with your arousal, smearing the syrupy liquid that is gushing out of you around your cunt and thighs. “Mhm…” Nam-gyu responds, mouth still attached to your breast. He pulls off with a wet pop, looking up to Thanos who was still leaning over your shoulder “And she’s soooo fuckin’ wet dude…such a messy fuckin’ pussy.” Nam-gyu teases, knowing it would only piss Thanos off that he wasn’t tasting or feeling your sweet cunt like Nam-gyu was.

Nam-gyu’s fingers worked magic, playing with your folds and coaxing more and more sweet and wetness to drip out of your cunt. He’s practically massaging your pussy, moaning into your tits as he savors the soft feeling of your soaking cunt on his fingers. You’re a panting mess against Thanos, soft moans beginning to slip through your lips.

“Oh fuck you…” Thanos seethes at Nam-gyu, taking his irritation out on you- squeezing harder at your breast and grinding his hard cock against your ass. “I can’t wait any longer. I needa taste ‘er.” Thanos growls, lightly shoving you forward into Nam-gyu as he begins to move out from behind you, scooting on his knees around the bed. “Finally somethin’ we agree on.” Nam-gyu scoffs with a laugh.

It’s a skillfully rehearsed set of movements, one they’ve done hundreds of times. Thanos pushes you forward, Nam-gyu pulls you into him, removing his hand out of the boxers you wore and pulling them down your thighs. The boxers you wore are thrown haphazardly across the room. The raven haired male is then pushing you back onto the bed, your head hits the pillows. Thanos soon joins Nam-gyu in front of you.

They each take one of your ankles in their hands. Their hands mirror each other as they slide down your legs. At this point you know you’re fucking drenched, it’s embarrassing really. And as they look down at you like two wolves ready to pounce on a fawn you’re whimpering eyes frantically darting between the two, not being able to figure out where to focus.

They’re pushing your thighs open, spreading you wide, your glistening cunt on full display for them. “Oh-ho…” Thanos chuckles, “you were right, pretty thing’s dripping for us..” his hand comes to cup your pussy, grinding his palm into your clit. He exhilerated by your sloppy state, your thighs and pubic bone covered in your own arousal thanks to Nam-gyu’s earlier work. “‘Gyu did a good job huh? His fingers feel good?” Thanos muses down to you, his tattooed middle finger beginning to trace around the outside of your cunt. You twitch against his hand, the way your pussy clenches with the minimal attention makes the both of him draw in sharp breaths.

“Mhm..” you whine out in response to Thanos your eyes trained on him as you bite your lip and nod, your hips canting up into his touch trying to get him to touch where you needed it. Your eyes dart over to Nam-gyu who’s licking his lips, hand gripping at your one of your inner thighs, thumb pulling your cunt open for them to see you better. “Made me feel so good.” You direct towards Nam-gyu. His yes look up to you, a soft smile spreading across his lips at the praise- in an instant the hungry, devious grin is back.

They seem to think the same thing, they’re both laying down on the bed, their faces becoming level with your cunt. Nam-gyu is the first to touch you again, his hand coming up to rest on your pubic bone, hand turning down, his thumb and pointer finger coming to spread you nice ‘n wide. It’s a beautiful sight, pretty pink cunt just drooling milky white arousal that spills down to your ass.

“Fucking Christ….” Thanos says with a wide grin, the hand around your thigh gripping harder, he’s looking at your pussy like it’s the million dollar jackpot at the casino or a free ounce of weed. “Perfect fucking cunt..” Nam-gyu muses, his eyes staring at your pussy hungrily, his fingers pinching together slightly causing you to whimper and arch into his touch.

“You needy, baby? Wan’ us to eat your pretty ‘lil pussy?” Thanos asks, you let out a breathless laugh, pushing yourself up on your elbows to look down at the perfect view below you. “F-fuck yes. P-please I need it. Need both of you…” You beg them desperately. They seem to look at each other for a moment before either agreeing your begging was good enough or they just couldn’t wait any longer.

The feeling of both their tongues meeting your cunt at the same time is exhilarating. They’ve done it plenty of times before but you’ve never gotten used to it. They both watch you out differently, leaving you with two different patterns lapping greedily at your pussy. Your hands are gripping the sheets of the bed beside you in a white-knuckled grip. The obscene sounds of your wet pussy and they’re slurping is sure to be heard through the walls of nam-gyu’s apartment.

They’re messy, unforgiving. Their tongues intertwine on top of your clit. Both pairs of lips wrapping around the bud. You can tell they’re just as fucked out as you are, their eyes peer up at you from between your legs, taking in every one of your reactions. It’s a view you always will think about, both of their faces buried deep in your cunt, noses bumping against your clit in alternate movements.

You’re crying out, stomach tensing. Fighting your head from falling back in ecstasy on the pillows, you really don’t want to look away from the two men who are slurping at your messy cunt like your arousal is the elixir of life. “H-holy f-fuck…” you gasp out, hips grinding up into their mouths. You can feel the vibrations of their laughs, it only sends more shocks of pleasure through your body. Thanos pulls away, leaning his face against your thigh, Nam-gyu wastes no time to fill in his place, his mouth engulfing you- tongue thrusting into your tight head.

“Mhm…” Thanos coos at you, his eyes trained on the way Nam-gyu messily tongue fucks you. “So fuckin messy…” he mocks, “you hear how loud your pussy is? Needed us so bad, huh, princess?” Thanos asks, Nam-gyu’s eyes open again and lock with yours, wanting to see your reaction. Your eyebrows are upturned, your pillowy lips wet and swollen, heaving breaths causing your breasts to jiggle with each exhale. “F-fuck ohmygod ‘Gyu..” you cry out, “y-yes needed you two so fuck- so fucking bad.” You finish.

Thanos is leaning back down, shoving Nam-Gyu to the side so he can get his own fill. Thanos is always so much more erratic than Nam-gyu. While Nam-Gyu eats you out like a dog lapping at water on a hot day, long, languid, deep strokes of his tongue trying to savor the taste of you, Thanos eats your cunt like a man starved. It’s fast paced, messy, and he’s all over you. He’s even pulling back to spit on your puffy cunt before going back in for seconds

Nam-gyu watches Thanos, his face wet by your arousal, “Such a whore…” he says, even with the harsh pet name, there’s an odd softness to his voice, he’s praising you. His hand reaching up to your face, his middle and ring finger pulling at your bottom lip. You knew what to do, your lips part sucking in his fingers. “Mhm…” he says nodding at you as your tongue swirls around his digits, the pads of his fingers pushing at your tongue, “so good f’us, smart girl knows what she needs to do….” He adds.

The purple haired rapper is pulling away from your cunt, your clit sucked into his lips as he does. You’re crying around Nam-Gyu’s fingers, eyes rolling back at the wet ‘pop’ that sounds through the room as Thanos releases your clit. “We’ve trained her well.” He mumbles against your pussy. You’re shaking against the bed, whining around Nam-gyu’s fingers. His fingers pull themselves from your mouth, wet with your saliva. He’s quickly settling back down next to Thanos, his fingers beginning to play with your puffy cunt. Your head kicks back onto the pillow as you moan out a mix of both their names.

You can hear Thanos chuckle darkly and you’re weakly pulling your head off the pillow to look down. They both have their cheeks rested against one of your thighs, just staring at the way your cunt continuously gushes thick streams of your arousal, clenching impatiently. “Ya’ didn’t even have to wet your fingers…she’s already so fuckin wet…” Thanos hisses through grit teeth, like your pussy is the most delicious sight he could ever lay his eyes upon. “Just wanted your fingers in her throat you pervert.” He laughs, looking over to Nam-gyu with a wide grin.

“Can you blame me? You seen the way she looks at you with your cock shoved down her throat, ‘s the same look.” Nam-gyu scoffs, his fingers teasing your entrance. You’re trying to grind down into his fingers, wanting your cunt to finally be full but the weight of their heads on your thighs keeps you from moving.

They either seem to have come to the conclusion they teased you enough or have waited long enough because in a second Nam-gyu’s fingers are deep within your spongy walls and both their tongues were back on your clit. Your back arches off the bed, your head tilting heavenward as you let out a choked sob. They don’t ease you into it, no they’ve been fucking you- ruining you- for well over a year now they know you can take it. And with the weed coursing through their system their mind is only set on one thing and that is feeling you, tasting you, as you cum on their tongues.

It’s so fucking filthy, the sounds that come from in between your legs only turn you on more. Nam-gyu’s fingers are pistoning into your cunt, scissoring themselves inside you and reaching places you know your fingers never could. He knows you like the back of his hand, knows exactly where to curl his fingers to brush against that spongy spot inside you that makes you see stars. Nam-gyu pulls away from your cunt, his fingers never ceasing. Thanos wastes no time in shifting over the slightest bit to fully coat your throbbing clit with the soft, wet warmth of his tongue.

“Ya’ know how much of a slut you are?” Nam-gyu hums, dark eyes watching as his fingers disappear into your leaking hole, pushing out more of your arousal onto the bed and observing how Thanos’ lips suck on your clit, tongue playing with it in swiveling motions. “Letting two men eat your depraved cunt…” The black haired male chides. Your eyebrows are upturned, your wide eyes looking at him with a fucked out haze to them. You’re just nodding alone to his words dumbly, hips grinding down on his fingers as you let out choked ‘uh-huh!’s. “And you just love it.” His eyebrow quirks up when he feels you tighten at his words, “yeeeahhh you do…can feel you squeezing me pretty girl.” He muses, beginning to curl his fingers upward in a devine, fast paced curling motion that makes the wet ‘schlick, schlick, schlick” sound that comes from your cunt become even louder.

Thanos chuckled against your cunt, pulling off of you. Nam-gyu immediately takes his place, his fingers and mouth working at your raw pussy desperate to have you cum on his tongue. Thanos is sitting up and leaning over you, laughing when he sees how your head is tilted back and your eyes are screwed shut in ecstasy. He grips your chin, hard, yanking you to face him. Your eyes shoot open to look at him, your body jerking upwards with every harsh thrust of Nam-Gyu’s fingers. “Ohhhh….” Thanos lets out in a low hum, “you’re close aren’t you? Gonna cum f’us?” He asks.

You’re babbling incoherently at this point, the way Nam-gyu is sucking at your cunt as his fingers burry themselves deep in your twitching walls makes you not be able to even think straight. Thanos is laughing, his hand coming up to connect with the side of your face in a harsh slap. It wasn’t hard, it was enough to sting, and fuck, did it make your cunt throb. You can tell Nam-gyu feels it because he scoffs against your pussy, letting out a muffled ‘filthy fuckin slut’ against your puffy folds when he feels you tighten around his fingers when you’re slapped.

Thanos hand goes back to gripping your chin after the slap, shaking your head around in a degrading manner “Answer me sweetheart. We haven’t even fucked ya’ yet and you’re already acting like a brainless whore. C’mon now, tell ‘Gyu how good he’s doin’, gonna make you cum huh?” The purple haired man growls.

“F-fuck y-yes! Feels, oh shit, feels so fucking good, ‘m g-gonna, ohmygod.” Your eyes are fluttering back as the heat in your lower stomach grows almost painful, your words cut off by choked sobs, Thanos is reaching his free hand down to push on your lower stomach, a high-pitched squeal falling out of your lips as you’re hurled towards your orgasm.

“O-oh fuck! ‘m cumming! fuckfuckfuck!!” Your words are slurred and babbled, your eyes screwing shut as you’re cumming hard. You can hear the wet gush of your cunt spraying down Nam-Gyu’s hand, drenching the sheets below you, and he’s drinking you up for all your worth, practically sucking your orgasm out of you.

“Oho! There you go! Fuck you’re makin such a mess.” Thanos praises, eyes never straying from the view of you soaking Nam-gyu’s face. You’re thrashing against the bed, hips rutting into his face as he greedily swallows your cum. You have to reach a hand up and push at his head, his lips still wrapped around your clit even after your orgasm is over. When he pulls his face up you whine breathlessly- he’s covered. His face, neck, and chest are soaked with droplets of your arousal.

“Could fuckin’ eat your sweet pussy all day..” Nam-gyu says breathlessly as his dark eyes look down to see the mess he’s made of you. Your cunt is raw and puffy, coated in your arousal and cream they worked out of you. Nam-gyu is reaching into his back pocket with one hand and using the other to spread you open so he can see your pretty pussy entirely. His and comes back around, pulling out his phone and opening the camera to take a couple pictures of his artwork. You’re whining in protest- though you really love when they do that, you know they’re only ever shared between the two of them. Both of them have albums of pictures of you once they’re through with you- they have to have things to look at if you’re not around!!

You’re pretty sure they plan out every time they’re going to fuck you. It’s like they meet before and type out an itinerary of who gets to fuck your cunt when and who’s taking your throat. Like they plan a play by play so when it comes down to it they’re not wasting any time.

You see Nam-gyu typing and then hear Thanos phone go off a moment later. They’re both maneuvering back down to your cunt, tongues going back and enveloping your pussy. You cry out, entirely overstimulated at the moment but they have to clean you up!!

They’re pulling away from your cunt in a mess of spit and saliva, tongues hanging out like dogs panting. Thanos is looking at your fucked out form when Nam-gyu goes back in for seconds (thirds.), his lips wrapped around your clit and his tongue working against it. You’re moaning out broken syllables of their names, hips grinding against his tongue. Thanos looks down annoyed at Nam-gyu, obviously straying from whatever plan they had made up.

Thanos’ painted nails are tangling themselves into Nam-gyu’s hair, yanking him off your cunt roughly. You and the male between your thighs let out echoing moans. “Quit being greedy.” He scolds at Nam-gyu,

You’re still coming down from your orgasm as they bicker, you don’t think you could ever get used to the both of them eating you out at once. Your cunt is still leaking syrupy cum, a thick trail of the creamy arousal beginning to drop down to your ass. Nam-gyu fights against Thanos’ hold to drop back down and begin devouring the rest of your cum. He’s moaning in your pussy, the taste of your orgasm one of his worst addictions, he could never get enough and always needed a fix. Thank god you were a timely dealer!

He’s pulling away from your cunt and smirking, “Couldn’t let it go to waste, bro…’s a delicacy.” Nam-Gyu says turning back to Thanos with a shit eating grin. In no time, They’re crawing off the bed, ridding themselves of their pants and boxers, beginning to maneuver you expertly. Nam-gyu grabs a hold of your ankles, spinning you horizontally across the bed. Thanos is then gripping your wrists and pulling you towards him, your head hanging off the bed.

You’re looking at him upside down as his tattooed hand begins to fist his hard cock over your face, his other hand reaching down to slap one of your breasts sharply then grabbing at the flesh. You’re whining out looking up at him, his grin is nearly sadistic as you know what’s about to come next.

Since this arrangement has been going on for a long while now, they’ve come to have favorite positions for both of them to use you in. It was a long and arduous task to try and find the happy neutral ground. Hey! No one ever said having two boyfriends was easy work.

This position happened to be one they compromised on. Thanos loved seeing the imprint of his cock sliding in and out of your throat, he loved being able to choke you. And Nam-gyu loved nothing more than to be able to see your cunt stretched out around your cock and your tits bounce as he fucked you. And you? Well, you were getting absolutely destroyed by them either way so you were just happy they found something that they didn’t have to fight over.

You feel the bed shift under the weight of Nam-gyu crawling back onto the bed. He’s kneeling between your legs, hands reaching down to your hips to lift you up, your legs resting limply over his hips. You can feel the weight of his heavy cock against your stomach. His ring clad hands are running up and down your thighs.

“Been waiting for this all day…could never get enough of this tight cunt…” Nam-gyu growls, looking up to Thanos as he nods in agreement, his hips beginning to move back and forth to grind his cock in the mess that was spread around your cunt and pubic bone. The underside of his dick catching your clit with each motion.

“Best pussy and mouth out there, aren’t we lucky….” Thanos praises, eyes flicking down to you. He quirks up an amused eyebrow when he sees your desperate state, your mouth hung open nice and wide, already waiting for his cock. He releases your breast from his grip, Nam-gyu’s hands now sliding up your stomach to replace them.

Thanos’ hand that isn’t occupied by fisting his cock runs up to your neck, dragging a squeezed hand up the expanse of your throat. “What a greedy slut you are, beautiful..” Thanos mocks, “Just had two men devour your sloppy pussy and now you just can’t wait to get stuffed…”

“Wouldn’t be nice to keep her waiting, would it?” Nam-gyu hums, hand coming to splay itself on your pubic bone, thumb reaching down to flick at your clit. You can feel him begin to rub the leaking tip of his cock between your folds, a breathy falling from your lips.

“Yeahhh…” Thanos grins watching as Nam-gyu teases your cunt, “Wants it bad doesn’t she…” he continues, his thumb pinching at your pert nipple as he lowers his hefty cock to your face, you know exactly what to do. Your tongue lolls out of your mouth beginning to press open mouthed kisses down his thick shaft, lathing your tongue over the hot skin as you twitch against Nam-gyu.

Nam-gyu pushes the tip of his bulbous cock-head into your sopping walls, it’s a stretch you don’t think you could ever be prepared for no matter how many times he’s fucked you. You let out a cracked whine, the blissful fullness of his cock entering you being quickly ripped away as he pulls back out. Maybe it’s some kind of obscure fetish he had, but he loved just sinking his fat cock-head into your tight cunt, watching as you greedily suck him in and consume his tip in a wet, sopping warmth. He’s edging himself while edging you.

Thanos laughs as you moan out, head falling further off the bed as you throw it back in pleasure. “So mean…” he directs at the raven haired man who fucks you shallowly, “She jus’ wants to be stuffed and you’re teasing her..” Thanos says, you can tell he really doesn’t feel bad for you, in fact he likes watching as Nam-gyu rocks into your cunt, he loves being able to see your face twist into a contorted expression of bliss.

“‘M not stopping you from fucking her slutty mouth..fill ‘er up if she’s wants to be stuffed so bad..” Nam-gyu grunts, pulling all the way out and slapping his thick cock against your weeping cunt with a wet ‘plap plap plap’ before beginning to sink back into you.

And only a few moments later, stuffed you are. Thanos is balls deep in your throat, heavy balls hanging over your eyes as he slides his cock in and out of your tight throat. Your face, his balls, and anything in the vicinity is covered in your spit. It’s sloppy. Debauched. Hes thrusting into your throat without abandon, one of his hands coming down to caress your throat feeling the bulge of his thick cock slide down your esophagus. You’re helplessly gagging and moaning around him, fountains of spit bubbling out of your throat- making it all the more sloppy which only urges Thanos to fuck your throat harder. “Takin me so well…letting me use this fuckin’ throat.” He growls, “Can feel how fuckin’ deep I am ohmygod…” he’s hissing, his words punctuated by him grabbing your throat harder, his teeth clenched.

Nam-gyu finally sinks fully into you, wasting no time to begin thrusting into your sopping cunt. It’s damn near violent, every thrust jolting you forward, shoving Thanos’ cock deeper into your throat. All you can do is let out choked muffled moans. “‘Gyu makin’ you feel good, sweetheart?”

You let out a muffled ‘mhm! mhm!” The vibrations making Thanos stiffen. His hand grips harder at your throat, “easy, girl..fuck!…Fuckin do that and I’ll cum too quick” Thanos is growling, beginning to choke you with his hand as his cock stuffs your throat.

Between your legs Nam-gyu’s hips jackhammer into yours at a damn near evil pace. Your pussy is stretched impossibly wide, yet you still grip his thick length with a tightness that could fool him into thinking he’s never ruined your sweet cunt before. It’s one of the reasons he can never get enough. Anytime he draws his hips back a streak of milky-white coats his cock, forming a ring as the base of his dick anytime he slams back into you. He reaches so deep, filling your cunt until you’re moaning out mindlessly, though your sounds come out choked and garbled around Thanos’ cock that’s shoved in your mouth.

Thanos’ hand was still on your throat, his head kicked back as his hips thrust brutally into the tight cavern of your throat. Your tongue sliding along the top of his cock as his tip bullies its way down your throat. You’re gagging and spitting around his length, choked moaned muffled by the thick dick sliding up and down your throat. “F-fuck.” He stutters out in a breathless laugh, a blissful grin stretched across his lips. “Such a good cock sucker, so fuckin sloppy.” He says pulling all the way out of your throat with a sickening wet sound. You’re gasping for air, a messy string of spit coming out of your mouth and connecting your mouth to the tip of his throbbing cock. His hand releases his harsh grip on your throat, hand moving up and down the expanse of your neck in a soothing motion. “Look at you Señorita…” he says in a proud tone, “such a beautiful sight..” he hums.

You then watch from an upside down view as he fumbles for his phone that was on the ground. You se him unlock it and presumably go to the camera app. He comes back closer to you, resting his heavy cock on your face. Your suspicions are proved correct when the flash of his camera flicks on, you only get impossibly righter- clenching around Nam-gyu who lets out a choked, “slut loves to be filmed”

Thanos is pointing the phone down at you as he slides his cock past your pillowy lips. He watches through the phone screen as he sinks deeper into your mouth, you’re gagging around him as he begins to push past the tight ring of your throat. “Mhm…” he mumbles to himself, eyes trained on the bulge that begins to show in your throat on the image displayed on his phone. His hand is back on your throat, squeezing it before trailing down, his phone camera following his movements. He leans over you, his cock sinking deeper into your throat. His hand grips at your tits that bounce with Nam-gyu’s thrusts. He then pans the camera up, catching how Nam-gyu fucks into your cunt.

The corner of Nam-gyu’s bottom lip is caught in his teeth, one of his hands is around your hip, holding you up slightly as he thrusts into you, the other is reaching up to take his hair back and out of his face before dropping back down to his side. The wet sound of skin slapping on skin is resounding through the room, most certainly being picked up by the camera recording you three. Thanos cannot deny how fucking hot the view is that the phone camera captures. He watches on through the screen as Nam-gyu reaches his free up and begins to play with your clit. You sob out in pleasure round Thanos’ cock. The vibrations cause him to nearly fall over, he has to stop his recording abruptly- throwing his phone to the side before pulling out of your throat.

“C’mon man I gotta fuck her cunt.” Thanos nearly begs Nam-gyu. Nam-gyu thrusts into your pussy once more, sinking balls deep in you, wanting to hear you cry out for him without Thanos’ cock muffling the sounds. And that you do, it’s a choked, wracked whine, it’s a cute sound that has both of them groaning in response. Nam-gyu is pulling out of you, looking down to see how your cunt holds the shape of his tick cock for a second before desperately clenching around nothing. “Fine, fine….i wanna feel her choke on my cock too anyway.” The longer haired male is scoffing.

Once again, they’re moving you with a swiftness that leaves you no time to process what position you’re in until you feel the tips of their cocks touch you. You’re on all fours, back arched so prettily. Thanos is behind you painted nails digging into the flesh of your ass as he rocks his dick against you. Nam-gyu is in front of you, one hand gripping the base of his cock as he runs his leaking tip against your lips- smearing his pre-cum on your lips like a new personalized lipgloss- his other hand gripping your hair into a makeshift ponytail.

In tandem they’re sinking back inside you. Your moans muffled by Nam-gyu’s cock. Despite being stretched out by Nam-gyu fucking you previously, you’re were still gripping down on Thanos’ cock like a vice. His hips are drawing back, watching the way your cunt sucks him back into your tight walls. Your eyes look up at Nam-gyu his head tilted back and his mouth hung open singing praises of your name as your tongue swirled around him.

“Still so fuckin’ tight…” Thanos growls, his hips slapping into your ass violently, his painted nails leaving crescent moon shaped imprints in the far of your ass. One of his hands releases its grip to smack your ass, it’s hard and painful, making you sob out and choke around Nam-gyu’s cock. “Dirty fuckin’ bitch.” The male in front of you growls, feeling your moans around his dick when Thanos spanks you. It’s resounding through your head as deep rumble that only makes your eyes roll into the back of your skull.

“Creamin’ all over my fuckin’ cock.” You hear Thanos growl from above you, his thrust becoming rougher, jolting you forward and further down Nam-Gyu’s cock. You feel one of Thanos’ hand grip at one of the globes of your ass, pushing up and spreading you so he can see the mess that is your pussy. Anytime he draws his hips back, sticky strings of your thick arousal coat his thighs and pelvis, dripping down to his heavy balls that slap against your clit with every mind numbing thrust. “Just love getting ruined by two fuckin’ cocks, don���t’cha pretty girl?” Thanos says, and you feel him spit downwards, the warm saliva dripping down the valley of your ass and mixing with the mess between your thighs as he pile drives into you.

Nam-gyu’s hand that holds your tightens, a signal for you to respond. You let out a muffled ‘mhm!’ your eyes fluttering closed and screwing shut as you feel yourself about to cum. Every time Thanos thrusts into you the fat tip of his cock brutally fucks into your g-spot. “Oh you’re close…fuckin milkin’ me” Thanos growls lowly, your eyes are welling with tears at this point. Thanos looks up at the black haired male in front of him, “she already squirted and she still wants to cum again…how fuckin’ greedy.. makin’ us do all the work.” He finishes, one of his hands reaching diagonally across your back to grip at your ass.

“You’re right..” Nam-gyu responds, pushing your mouth impossibly deeper down his shaft, your tongue lapping at his balls. “Make her to the work this time…” And you can hear the smirk in his voice.

Thanos nods in response, his hand coming down to slap your ass, “You heard him. Work for it.” He hisses. “Wanna cum so bad? Fuck yourself on my cock like the slut you are.” The purple haired male finishes in a deep rasp from behind you.

You can do nothing but obey, lest you don’t want to cum. You’re grinding back onto him, looking up at Nam-Gyu as he releases the make shift ponytail he has your hair in and begins to cradle your face in both his hands, “C’mon you can do better than that….” Nam-gyu says lowly, looking down at you, beginning to fuck his cock down your throat, “Don’t you wanna cum? You’re not actin’ like it…” he says, you know it’s a threat.

You begin to fuck your self back onto the purple hairs man behind you, a loud ‘slap’ of wet skin resounds through the room every time your ass connects to the fronts of his thighs, the flesh recoiling against his skin. “That’s it. F-fuck.” Thanos hisses out, his hand on your ass moving with the flesh that jiggles each time you sink him balls deep, “Look at that fuckin’ ass…” he grumbles in a low voice, more to himself than anyone, but Nam-Gyu hums in approval as he watches on, low moans of praise falling from his lips as you suck him down eagerly, moaning around him with more ferocity.

“Yeah…you’re gonna cum, can fuckin feel it, go on make a mess f’me, pretty girl.” Thanos says, his hand wrapping around you to play with your throbbing clit in erratic circles. The stimulation immediately throws you over the edge, you’re clenching down on Thanos’ cock so hard it stills his movements. Nam-Gyu pulls out of your throat, his hand fisting his cock as you gasp, catching your breath. Immediately you’re moaning and whining out, your hips are simultaneously thrusting back onto the thick length in sloppy motions and trying to bring your clit into his fingers.

You’re orgasm sprays out of you in a violent fountain, and Thanos adjusts his hands to grip both of your hips, brutally pulling you back against him and fucking your cum out of you in gushing spurts. You’re sobbing out a mix of their names, babbled and choked as you see stars. Your breath is heaving, you would have fallen down if it wasn’t for the both of them reaching down to hold you up.

And as fucked out as you are, overstimulated beyond belief- you can only think of the fact they have yet to cum. You look at them desperately, like it’s the one thing you truly need to be satisfied after all this. Your adrenaline keeps you coherent enough to keep wanting more. You wouldn’t be satiated until you felt them cum on you or in you- you never were.

They’re working together to pull you off the bed and you follow excitedly, being this position all too many times- it was one of your favorites. As you situate yourself on your knees in front of them and look up at them teary eyed and fucked out- hair matted and sticking to your face and lips swollen from taking both of them in your mouth- they’re fisting their cocks over you, singing praises of your form as you kneel below them.

“So fuckin pretty, cryin’ f’us.” Nam-gyu grunts out, squeezing the tip of his throbbing cock before working to fist the rest of his length. “Such a good girl…knew just what to do…” Thanos mumbles, his words broken by a moan, “fuck…look at you kneelin’ like the good whore ya are.” He finishes. You’re addicted to the way both their fists work furiously against their cocks, each having their own rhythm and particular way of doing it.

“Gonna be a good girl and let us paint y’er face?” Nam-Gyu says, quirking an eyebrow up at you. When you nod and part your lips, sticking out your tongue they both groan. “F-fuck you look so good, wanna record this.” Thanos grunts, Nam-gyu seems to have the same idea as they’re both reaching over and grabbing their phones that were scattered about the bed. They’re quickly returning in front of you, looming over you as they work their hands along their cocks above you.

You look up at them, your face stained with tears, eyes red, puffy and covered in mascara- but you still eagerly await what they’re gonna give you with your tongue out. Your eyes are squinting against the harsh light of the flash from both your phones. It should make you embarrassed that you’re letting them record you in this state but you’re not- you love it.

“Yeeeahhh….” Thanos growls, his hand fisting his cock rapidly, “that’s it pretty girl, you look so fuckin good.” He praises, his voice becoming shaky. You look over to Nam-Gyu who is obviously just as close to cumming, his hand jerking his thick length, using your spit as lube. “Gonna look so fuckin’ good covered in our cum, princess.” Nam-Gyu is hissing out.

You nod, moaning out, wanting nothing more than to be painted by the both of them. Thanos kicks his head back, moaning out your name in a low hiss, his cum beginning to fall to your face in pearly white ropes. Nam-gyu is right behind him, phone in his hand shaking slightly as he jerks his cock over your face.

You can feel the alternating ropes of their warm cum covering your face. Your eyes shutting as you collect what you could on your tongue. You feel a large drop land on one of your eyelids, thankful you closed your eyes, but something about the raunchiness of it just makes you sigh out.

They’re both stepping forward, placing the tips of their cocks on your tongue. Like the good girl you are, you’re eagerly cleaning them up. Tongue rolling between the two thick cocks and taking them into your mouth, you open your one eye- looking up to the camera as you make more of a show of stretching your mouth around the both of them, sucking them both dry.

They’re ending the video and throwing their phones to the ground almost simultaneously, their chests heaving with heavy breaths. When they tilt their heads back down to look at the mess they made, you’re swiping a finger across your face to collect the mix of their cum and suck it off your fingers. You smile up innocently at them and they both groan, smiling down at you.

Nam-Gyu is picking you up off the floor like you’re a rag doll, “you’re gonna be the death of us” he chuckles. He’s throwing you onto his bed and you bounce softly on the plush mattress letting out a giggle. You didn’t even realize Thanos had stepped away until he’s hovering over your face from the side of the bed and wiping you clean with a cool towel.

You can help but giggle and smile as he does it. It’s so odd, they just fucked you like a whore and now they’re doting on you. Nam-gyu is filling up your water bottle that you kept on the bedside table and begging to roll another blunt while Thanos is trying to fight your giggles to keep you still enough to clean you. Something he knows you love after being so completely ruined, it allows you to relax.

They really were the best boyfriends. You really don’t know what you’d do without them and you’re glad that you’re able to see the two varying sides of the both of them.

Buut…They never fail to remind you of their other side of them, the raunchy personalities that originally drew you towards them. Like days later with your out to dinner with your friends and you see they both send a couple videos in your group chat, and you open it unexpectedly to see the most sinful pictures and videos- trying desperately to shield the very obvious image that blares across your screen.

Up next on requests I got another thangyu non-squid games request focused on silky dynamics of the relationship

After that is more thangyu with thick!reader smut. Including double penetration n thick thigh love!

3rd in line we have a namgyu smut with naive! / innocent! Reader >:)

4th we got a new ask for a dead beat baby daddy! Namgyu x reader smut involving hate fucking

As always thank you all for reading and requesting! It’s always so much fun getting to interact with you guys and write them!!! - love always <3 kiwi

[luveline]

kbd —You gather the family consensus on a fifth baby. mom!reader x dad!Steve, 2k

The first baby you and Steve have is a ringer for him. She’s his copy down to the eyelashes, and she has his good heart. She’s a good sister, a beautiful daughter, and she’s a brilliant student. 

But growing up makes you curious.

“Mom, why are you in the bathroom again?” 

You laugh nervously. “What?” you ask, gaze on your hands. 

“You’ve been in here like ten times today! Are you okay?” 

She sound so, so cute when she’s suspicious. Her voice twists up and her concern feels too big. She knows it’s not normal to go to the bathroom this many times and she’s clearly not okay with this new development. 

She knocks the door hard. “Do you need me to get dad?” 

You open the door and pull her in quickly. She giggles, startled to be grabbed and put on the counter, her hair falling into her eyes the same wavy pattern as her dads. He’s got strong genes. Steve stamps the kids as Harrington’s, all except your Beth, who looks just like you. 

“Mom, what the heck is going on?” 

“I’m gonna ask you a huge question and you have to tell me your first answer. Don’t worry about anything else. Be honest, okay?” 

“Okay. You’re making me nervous.” 

You show her your pregnancy test. “You know what this means?” 

She wrinkles her nose. “Did you pee on that?” 

“I did. Babe, do you know what that means, though?” 

“You’re having another baby?” Avery guesses. You go quiet. She beams at you. “Wait! Wait, mom, are you having another baby?” 

“I don’t know yet.” One positive test and six negatives makes you think it was a mistake, but you’ve been pregnant four times before. You’re starting to feel like an expert. “If I did have another baby, what would you think?” 

She tips her head back. You put the test aside and take her smaller hands into yours. She’s so pretty, all your babies are beautiful, and they’re all so special, and maybe you do want another one. Is that crazy? 

You nibble your lip as Avery thinks. 

“Well, we need a bigger house.” 

You nod agreeably. “We do.” 

“I love being a big sister.” 

“You’re the best one there ever was.” 

Avery holds your hands back, still smiling. “Well, mommy, I think it’s good. Then I will have four sisters. That’s even more than Stacey K.” 

You look her dead in the eye, but it’s all love pouring between you both. “So if mommy wants to have another baby, that’s okay? You’d be happy?” 

Avery puckers for a kiss, which you give. You wrap your arms around her and push her head into your neck. “Have another baby if you want, mommy,” she says, laughing, “I love babies. Um, most of the time. More now you got us the sound machine.” 

“Avery… don’t tell anybody, okay? Can we keep this our secret? I don’t know if I’m gonna have another one yet. I need to make sure everyone’s happy first.” 

Avery pats your back. It’s adorable. “Sure, mommy.” 

You ask Beth, next. Stealing her away from her colouring sometime later that day, you pull your second eldest against your chest outside in the back yard and watch the clouds move in the sky as it changes from blue to carnation pink. “Bubby?” 

“Yeah?” Beth asks. 

“Can I ask you a secret question?” 

“Yes.” She looks away from the sky. “Why?” 

“Because I care about what you think, okay?” 

“I know.” 

You ask Beth if another baby would be too many. She says no. She says she needs a brother, maybe twins if you can manage it, but it’s fine if you can’t. You kiss her cheek and spend another ten minutes with her staring up at the changing colours.

The first test being positive rocked your world. You were happy, but shocked to find yourself grinning at the two pink lines, because you thought four was enough. There’s a few years between each of your girls and you’d never expect to be pregnant again so soon after the last —you and Steve had one good night a fortnight ago. Wren’s not even a year old. 

Why do you want another baby so badly? 

You kiss Beth again. You love your kids, and you finally, finally got that promotion at work, and you’d been thinking about moving anyway, because two of the girls are sharing a room. You didn’t bring it up in fear of upsetting your sentimental husband before it was necessary. All your babies grew up here. This is where you and Steve started your life, and it’s never perfect but it’s amazing, and he’ll not want to leave it. 

He would be much happier if you left to make room for another baby, though. 

If you ask Dove what she thinks, she’ll probably say yes and grumble, and then spill the secret, so you don’t ask, but you watch her carefully for a while when Steve demands you and Beth come back inside. 

You let Beth run off and sit down. 

“You’ll catch a bug,” he says, leaning over your seat at the kitchen table to kiss your cheek. “You’re already freezing.” 

“We were watching the sun go down.” 

“Watch from the window.” He squints at you, his arms wrapping around your front. “Something wrong?” 

“No.”

“Okay, liar.” He taps your chin until you lift it and kisses you soundly. “It’s a good thing you’re this beautiful. You wouldn’t get away with your shit if you weren’t.” 

“My shit.” 

He grins into another kiss. “Sorry,” he says, kissing you softly. “I’m kidding, I love you, don’t frown at me.” 

You entrap him for a skewiff hug. He couldn’t be more eager, nosing at your cheek, the baby and Dove giggling at something where they sit at the table eating skinny banana slices. 

“They’re like us,” Steve says, following your gaze, “best friends.” 

You push him away from you gently. “Shush. Don’t you have stuff to do?” 

“I bet you think so. But no, I don’t, I’ve done everything.” 

Four kids is a lot, and somehow you and Steve have gotten really, really good at being their parents. You have four healthy, happy girls, with all the food they could ever eat and more princess dresses than they could ever wear. Now it’s six thirty on a Saturday and all that’s left to do is watch some TV. 

Maybe you’re an idiot to mess this up. 

“I need to pee really badly, so watch the baby.” 

“Jerk,” you say. You do not need to be told to watch your own baby. 

He snickers as he leaves. 

It was the high of the test. That first positive test was just a shock, is all. Your life is perfect now, nothing needs to change, because Steve loves you more and more everyday, and you adore him —you’d do anything for him and your girls. You and Steve would treasure another baby, but some things aren’t meant to be. 

But– but you could have another one. So you’re not pregnant right now, so what? Steve would have another baby with you if you asked. He’d probably spin you around in circles and call you the best, sweetest woman alive. You could spend the next nine months on the couch and he’d still think that way. 

“Baby?” Steve calls. 

“What, dad?” Bethie asks. 

“Not you, baby. Mommy, can you come here?” 

Your system gets another shock. Shit, the bathroom. 

You grab Wren to her horror and Dove’s jealousy and chug her along to the bathroom. You could’ve left her in her high chair, but soft bananas are a scary task for an unsupervised baby who eats mash for every meal.

Steve’s waiting in the doorway. It’s a small bathroom, and you can see as quickly as he can the mess of pregnancy strip tests you left on top of the bathroom trash can. There’s two in his hand. 

“Steve, I was gonna tell you about it,” you say, frowning. 

He frowns back. “Yeah?” he asks. 

“Really. I mean, obviously I would have,” —you tell each other everything— “but I was trying to work out how I feel, and the girls too. Avery always wants more sisters and Beth said she wants a brother and–” You smile. “I know I said we were done having babies for a while, if ever again, I know that was me, but when I thought I was pregnant again I got this rush of happiness going through me like a wave.” You shift Wren and her frowning higher up your chest. She’s appeased by a quick kiss pressed to the top of her head. “I don’t know why but I think I really want another baby.” 

He leans against the doorway, his arms crossing, with a strange expression playing on his mouth. 

“You can probably tell. I took like, twenty tests,” you exaggerate, embarrassed by your impromptu speech. “I kept hoping they’d come up positive. I got one positive first and the rest were negative, so I guess it was just a fluke.” 

“Ohhh,” he says, smiling around it. “Oh, that makes more sense.” 

“What makes sense?” 

“I think they just needed a little more time to cook, honey. They’re all positive.” He isn’t good at hiding how happy he feels. “You really want another one?” 

He’s achingly hopeful. 

You close the gap between you to lean on him and check the tests. “It must be super early,” Steve murmurs. 

“Well, it was only two and a half weeks ago,” you murmur back, seeing the double pink lines for yourself. Both tests are positive. “The ones in there, they’re…” 

“They’re all positive. When was the last time you had your eyes tested?”

“It was dark in there,” you joke, not sure what to say, even as a crest of pure joy begins to rise through your entire body. Your hands hum. 

“You want another baby?” he asks, pulling you tightly against him. “Then let’s have another baby. Let’s do it. You can have everything you want.” 

You stare at him. 

He nods. “We can do it. Let’s have another baby.” 

Heat in your eyes, the barest line of tears in your waterline as you give him a one-armed hug. “You want to?” you ask. 

He breathes out by your ear. “That’s a dumb question. And it’s pretty good luck, right? I mean, we weren’t trying, I didn’t even know you wanted another one, so for it to catch…” He does that groaning pleased thing where he buries his nose against the side of your face. 

“I didn’t know until the test was in my hand.” 

He laughs happily into your skin before he pulls away. He kisses you, he kisses Wren, and he flicks your tummy gently. “Holy shit, that’s a lot of Harringtons.” 

You get another loving kiss for all your efforts. “Steve?” you ask, eyes still closed, his face hovering just an inch away from your own. 

“What, honey?” He says it like light of my life, angel, sweetheart, all the devotion you're used to. 

“We’re probably gonna have to move.” 

“Are you kidding? I already figured it all out. We’re gonna convert the attic.” 

You laugh as he dots a kiss against your cheek. “We are?” 

“I got a quote a couple of months ago, I figured if Beth and Avery got too picky we could give Avery a new room upstairs. But it’ll still work, don’t you think?” 

You finally descend into giggly happy tears and Steve pretends he’s immune, but you hear him sniffing as you stroke Wren's chubby cheek with your finger. “What do you think, sweetheart?” you ask softly. “Do you want a baby sister? How about a brother? What are you thinking?” 

She gurgles her own laugh. “Da,” she says, pointing at Steve like he’s funny. 

“Do I get to decide?” Steve asks her, gasping happily. 

Steve has a lot more to say about it all later that night when the kids are sleeping, baby Wren on his chest, just for an hour before you both sleep too. 

He starts with asking if you’re sure, which you are for now, then the scary stuff, because you got really exhausted last time and it’s not going to be easier. He talks so much and you just lay there, in awe, because he means what he told you. You can have everything you want. Steve’s gonna make sure of it. 

“I’ll get you some prenatals in the morning, okay?” he promises, stroking hearts into Wren’s sleeping back. 

You shift over the pillow to kiss his cheek. “Thanks, H. I love you.” 

“I love you so much I don’t think you get it,” he says, tipping his head your way.

But you do. It’s why five kids feels like a gift, and not a curse. You get how much he loves you. 

[moonchild9350]

Bows, Lilac, and Kittens

Summary: Han doesn’t think he’s needy, unlike what his band mates believe, but that all changes when he sees you in his favorite type of lingerie.

Pairing: established relationship idol Han x fab reader

Genre: smut 18+ MDNI

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: pussy job, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), cum tasting.

Notes: idk I think Jisung would be into this haha I hope you like it! If so consider a reblog, comment, and like ♡

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

“Babe, do you think I’m needy?”

Your boyfriend Jisung had just walked through the door, screaming the question as he made his way to your bedroom. You stepped out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around your body since you were fresh out of the shower. You looked at Jisung, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, a pout on his face, making his cheeks seem bigger. He had his arms crossed, as he looked at you with his big boba eyes, as he awaited your answer.

“No, of course not baby,” you replied as you walked over to your dresser, pulling out a pair of panties and a shirt.

You pulled the shirt over your head and then slid one leg and then the other through your panties, pulling them up over your hips, the band snapping in place as they settled over your ass. You wanted to tease Jisung, to prove a point. Your boyfriend thought he wasn’t needy, but that was far from the truth, especially in the bedroom. Proving your point, you heard Jisung let out a whimper, your head immediately turning to look at the man after hearing the sound.

His eyes were trained on your ass, his mouth open. Anyone would say he was enamored with the flesh, not too flat but a nice roundness to the globes, but you knew better. Yes, you know Jisung loves every part of you, but there was one thing that drove him crazy, bringing out the neediness in him. That was your panties and not just any panties, but the ones you kept that were cute more than sexy, little patterns decorated across the fabric and a little bow in the center.

You looked down and noticed what panties you had chosen this time, a smirk forming across your face. The fabric was a soft lilac with little kittens littered across them, a little pink bow on the band. Looking up, you took in how Jisung wiggled in place, his eyes never leaving your pelvis. You felt your pussy clench at the attention, his gaze turning you on.

“Mmmm,” you said, slowly walking towards your lover, “maybe you’re a little needy after all.”

Jisung was practically drooling, his mouth open, and eyes wide. You noticed the tent in his pants, watching as he let out yet another whimper.

“Wanna see more?” You teased, your fingers playing with the hem of your shirt.

Jisung nodded his head, his hair flopping up and down obscuring his eyes. He pushed the hair out of his face and looked up at you.

“Yes, yes please,” he begged.

You giggled at his desperation before pulling your shirt up, your panties on display. You were dripping, your arousal seeping into the material. Jisung gripped your waist suddenly and yanked you toward him, burying his face in your pelvis, as he inhaled deeply, taking in your scent.

He placed kiss after kiss along your mound before dipping his head lower and darting his tongue out, the tip of the muscle brushing against your clothed clit. You jerked at the sensation, your hands gripping your shirt tighter as Jisung continued to lick the bud. You felt more slick gush into your panties as you slowly rocked your hips, fucking yourself on his tongue.

You tossed your head back, lost in the pleasure Jisung was giving you, the warm feeling spreading throughout your belly. You felt you could cum like this, the feeling close, the band expanding in your belly letting you know sweet bliss was close. But, before you could open your mouth to let him know, he pulled himself back, a string of saliva connecting his lips to the material of your panties.

Jisung groaned, looking at the mess he made, the material soaked and sticking to your skin. Without warning he yanked you onto the bed and spread your legs.

“Take your shirt off baby,” he said breathlessly as he slid his sweats and boxers down, his cock springing free of its confines.

You slid your shirt up and over your head, your tits on display for the man above you. You spread your legs wider as he stepped in between them, eyes glued to your covered core, stroking his cock.

“You’re soaked baby,” he groaned, reaching out his finger to press the material of your panties to your core.

Shivering at his touch, you replied, “all for you Sungie.”

“All for me,” he whispered, grasping his cock once more to drag it through your covered folds.

You let out a moan, grasping the sheets below as he slid his cock again and again through the fabric. You were dripping, your slick soaking the panties creating a sheer effect. Each stroke of his cock slipped against your clit, the tip kissing the swollen bud over and over.

Jisung let out a strangled cry, before he shifted your panties to the side, slipping his cock beneath the material. He pressed the hard appendage down, the head slipping through your thick folds, causing a squelching sound to be heard.

“Ohh my god, babe,” Jisung moaned out as he frantically began to thrust his hips, pressing his shaft to glide through your folds. Your breath kicked up, as the pleasure increased, that sensation building up once more in your belly. You moaned out as Jisung whimpered, his brow furrowed as he concentrated on fucking your lips.

“Look at that baby,” he managed to breathe out, “your soaking, can see my cock between your cute little folds.”

You looked down, your pussy clenching at the sight. Jisung was right, your panties were soaked through, Jisung’s cock clearly visible beneath the material. You looked up at your lover, watching as he scrunched up his eyes, lost in pleasure, and guided your gaze down, your eyes landing on his pelvis and then back to your soaking pussy.

You laid back onto the sheets, a sigh leaving your lips as you focused on the warm sensation, emptying your mind as it spread throughout your body. You were floating in that space you go to every now and then, as it was quiet throughout the room, the only sounds heard were your soft moans, Jisung’s whimpers, and your wet pussy. Your reverie was broken at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice, your eyes fluttering open.

“Play with your tits baby,” Jisung said.

You could tell he was close, there desperation in his eyes as he sped up his thrusts, the head of his cock hitting against your clit. You whimpered and shook your head, bringing your hands to your tits, grasping the flesh in your hands. You flicked your nipples, your eyes on Jisung as he watched you, his hips never faltering. Your moans grew louder as you squeezed and pinched your nipples, shocks of pleasures running down your spine to your core.

“I’m close Sungie,” you whined, the added sensation to your nipples causing the coil to tighten even more.

Jisung whimpered and shook his head, as his thrusts became more sporadic. “Cum with me baby,” he whined, “please, please, please,” he chanted over and over before he stilled, letting out a loud groan as his hot cum spurt onto your mound and panties.

The sight of your boyfriend’s high and the feel of his tip sliding up against your clit caused you to tip of the edge, as the coil snapped, warmth spreading throughout your body. You moaned out, pinching your nipples as you rode out your high. Jisung watched you from above, his eyes darting between your face and your little hole, watching as it clenched around nothing.

Taking a breath, you dropped your hands and reached down, sliding your finger through his cum on your pelvis before bringing it to your lips and wrapping them around the digit. You moaned as you sucked his cum off your finger, the salty taste settling on your tongue. Removing your finger from your mouth with a pop, you grinned at the boy above you.

“God I love you baby,” Jisung said, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips.

He looked down at your panties, completely ruined from your slick and his cum.

“Aww what a shame,” Jisung said, as he pushed your panties back in place. “I actually liked this pair. Guess I’m gonna have to buy you a new pair huh.”

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92

[vxnillabxn]

Can I request headcanons for all 5 lads men reacting to his gn s/o telling him how you never kissed anyone before please?

𐙚˙⋆.˚ mainfive! x gn!reader ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ fluff! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ sfw! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ do not translate/copy/repost! ꒰੭

﹙♡﹚AH! i hope i got your request right! thanks so much, this made me feel all fuzzy and warm inside, i need to kiss them !! and ik it's long, but pls bear with me TT.TT

𐙚˙⋆.˚ caleb! ꒰੭

there's not a single thing you can hide from him.

he knows how you feel after just a brief glance. he knows how many hours you've slept based on your mood. he knows if you're having intrusive thoughts, and he definitely knows what you're craving just by noticing your food patterns lately.

he knows exactly what you've been through, your first achievements and your latest ones. hell, he was there on your first day of kindergarten, both of you holding your tiny hands together. you didn't even have to mention your inexperience —he already knew.

needless to say, he never joked about it. in fact, he waited for you to open up, and when you finally did, he couldn't help but blush. hearing it from your pretty lips was a whole different experience.

when it happened, it was late at night; you were both holding hands, and you saw a cute couple walking past. they kissed, and your gaze lingered.

“everything okay, pips?”

he says softly, looking down at you with curiosity.

you nod.

“yeah, i was just… nevermind.”

he knows. he notices the brief glimmer in your eyes at the sweet, fleeting gesture between the couple, and he notices the subtle lick to your lips before you bite them ever so gently.

you're imagining what it would feel like to be kissed, and when your mind replaces the couple with caleb and yourself instead, you can't help but feel even more nervous. sure, you two know each other better than anyone, but now, under this different context, it feels… strange.

you walk a bit more until he buys your favorite treat and hands it to you. you sit down on a small bench facing the moonlit lake.

you rest your head on his shoulder; he kisses the top of your head. will a kiss on the lips feel as comforting as this one? will his lips feel as warm?

you look up at him, and he lowers his head to meet your gaze.

he smiles.

“so?” he asks, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

“so… what?”

he sighs, chuckling lightly.

“tell me what's on your mind, pips.”

it takes a few minutes in silence, with just the soft breeze and the cars passing behind you, before you gather up enough courage.

“promise me you won't laugh.”

“i would never laugh at you,” he says gently, but you catch a serious undertone in his voice.

“well, i… never kissed anyone before.”

you say it quick, fast, like ripping off a bandaid. or at least, it feels that drastic to you.

he, on the other hand, finds it absolutely adorable. you're so serious about something so trivial —that he was already aware of— and he can't help but kiss your cheek like a cat owner kisses their cat. lots of quick, playful kisses, making you laugh.

“stop!” you gently push him away, and his bright violet gaze tells you everything you need to know.

he's smitten.

he leans in and ruffles your hair.

“i know, pips.”

obviously, he'll never admit that he kind of made sure you never kissed anyone back in high school or college. it was impossible for your classmates to even look your way when they saw a tall, looming presence watching over you like a biblically accurate guardian angel.

before you can ask how he knows, he leans forward even more to whisper in your ear.

“if it makes you feel better, i haven't kissed anyone before either.”

hasn't he? but he was so popular back in high school. you figured he must have kissed someone but kept it private.

“i've been… keeping it safe for someone special.”

your eyes brighten with wonder, but deep inside, there's no doubt in your heart.

the way he looks down at your lips, the way his eyes are genuine and loving, the way his cheeks are slightly flushed, reminding you of when he's feverish.

he's been saving his first kiss for you, and you only. and that makes you feel warm and cared for.

plus, you trust him more than enough to give him your first one too.

and all of your firsts, for that matter.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ rafayel! ꒰੭

you two have been together for a few months now, officially.

rafayel wasn't pushy, nor was he excessively cuddly —unless he was being dramatic about something and needed your attention.

however, you did notice his lingering gaze on your lips. the way he'd stop and stare at you whenever you were just sitting around, even if you were basically doing nothing.

he would take the cups you'd been drinking from and sip on them too, and he would use your chapstick both in secret and right in front of you.

you were starting to catch on to what was going on, but you didn't know how to address it without sounding awkward or immature.

you wanted to kiss him, of course. his lips were always so inviting, his gaze so adoring, and his gentle caresses late at night made you crave fusing your body with his —if only it were humanly possible.

but, obviously, being with a popular and romantic guy like rafayel meant he probably had experience, or at least, that's what you assumed. not that it bothered you, but it made you feel a bit overwhelmed.

what if he thinks your kiss sucks?

what if you poke him in the eye with your nose?

the thought of messing up something so simple, yet so complex at the same time, was eating at you.

and now that he was literally showing you what he wanted —but never pushing— you finally had to tell him.

so, one quiet afternoon, you two were having lunch, sitting barefoot on the cold marble floor, skin still warm from being under the sun earlier that day.

“raf?”

you call his name before taking a bite of your food. he looks up and smiles.

“yes, cutie?”

you swallow, then take a sip of water. you're clearly nervous.

“so… recently, you've been a bit more… forward.”

he nods, as if that was obvious.

“well, yeah. now that we're together, i can finally shower my muse with affection. why? is it too much for you?”

you quickly shake your head.

“no, raf, it's just…”

his lips turn a bit pouty, and he soon stands up.

“don't you like it? am i being too pushy? shall i punish myself for causing you distress? do you think i'm weird? am i weird?”

you stand up behind him, trying not to laugh. he's pacing around, pressing the back of his hand dramatically against his forehead as if he's about to faint.

“rafayel, stop!”

you hug him from behind and giggle, soon making him turn to face you.

“gosh, relax! i just wanted to say something very, very silly.”

you take a deep breath before looking into his eyes.

“raf, i've never kissed anyone before. i know you want to kiss me, and i really want you to. i just don't want to mess it up or… well, make a fool out of myself.”

he's dumbfounded.

offended, even.

his brows furrow, as if you'd just insulted his entire lineage.

“cutie… what are you saying?”

he steps closer and gently takes both your hands, entwining your fingers.

“even if you were purposely trying to be a fool, you'd still be mesmerizing in my eyes. there's nothing you could do that would make me think you'd messed up.”

you arch an eyebrow.

“...okay, yeah, maybe ignoring me for hours or not returning my calls might be a huge mistake on your part. but that's not the point!” he quickly adds, finally stepping closer until your chests press together.

“look, i'll wait. if you don't feel ready for a kiss on the lips, i'll kiss your whole body instead. or your cheeks, or your hands, or anywhere you feel comfortable.”

he reassures you, though he quickly adds more.

“i won't lie, i really want to kiss you, but if that doesn't make you comfortable, i promise i'll find more ways to love you. and that's going to be easy, trust me.”

you smile warmly and nod. you're so grateful for him.

“don't worry, raf. just give me more time, because i really want our first kiss to be special. i'll practice with a pillow or someth—”

“no!”

he backs away immediately.

“practice with me! i'll cover my face! or… or, damn, i'll make a sculpture of myself, give me two weeks!”

“rafayel—!”

he's already running out of the room to gather materials.

and you know for a fact it will take him less than two weeks, but you'll probably kiss him before that.

he's earned it by being so cute.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ sylus! ꒰੭

this man makes you nervous.

sure, you are the only one who dares defy him (playfully). you are also the only one who can make this man do whatever you say, because he lives to satisfy you, and only you.

he also lives to worship you. when you two aren't bantering or playfully challenging each other, he is lovingly staring, tenderly caressing your back, trailing kisses along your skin —all while keeping his gaze locked on you.

obviously, this makes you go crazy. crazy and self-conscious.

it is crystal clear how much he wants you, how much he loves you, how much he's waiting for you.

but you are just… you. you want him too, yes, but you don't know how to show the same quiet intensity he does.

naturally, he notices your hesitation. whenever he gets too close to your lips, you quickly avert your gaze and make him focus on your jawline instead.

when he brushes your lower lip with his thumb and has you right where he wants you, —your lips parting, your cheeks warming— you quickly pull his hand away and hug him instead.

he can't lie: he thinks that's endearing, especially since you're not pushing him away completely. you just gently change his focus, or so you think.

today, he wants to settle this matter.

you look up at him briefly before following, clearly intrigued by whatever it is he has to say.

“sweetie, won't you be a darling and come with me?”

you two walk up to his room, and he sits down before spreading his legs. he pats his thigh twice.

“come, kitten.”

oh, this is serious. you walk up to him and sit on top of his leg, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“care to explain what is going on in that pretty little mind of yours?”

you sigh, knowing where this is going.

“what do you mean, sy?”

he hums quietly as a response.

he stays silent, but his red eyes glow just a tiny, tiny bit.

you really can't hide anything from him, can you?

“fine! fine. look, it's nothing serious, okay? you don’t have to worry about it.”

“tell me.”

“sy, i know you want to… to kiss me.”

he is unfazed.

“indeed, kitten.”

gosh, this man…

“well, i don't think i'm… ready, sy.”

he tilts his head ever so slightly. it's barely visible.

“i shall wait, then,” he states, matter-of-factly.

now you have to spit it out, or else he'll think you're not ready because of nervousness, and not because of your lack of experience —though both are true.

“no, sylus. i mean… i've never kissed anyone before.”

he just looks at you, silently. but then his gaze softens, and he gently caresses your waist.

“ah, so that was it, kitten?”

his lips curl up in a grin, and you look away.

“it's not funny…”

but he quickly holds your chin and makes you look back at him, exploring your embarrassed face with delight.

“i never said it was, sweetie… my, aren't you just adorable?”

your cheeks heat up, and you squirm under his scrutiny.

“sylus!”

he clicks his tongue, soon making you straddle him. despite his playful demeanor, he remains gentle overall.

he kisses your forehead, his lips lingering.

“i mean it. i don't find it funny... though, had you said so before, i would've been much more understanding.”

you sigh, knowing he’s right. you rest against his chest, nuzzling your cheek against it.

“sorry… i mean, it made me really self-conscious, and i didn't want to make a big deal about it.”

he kisses the crown of your head before massaging your shoulders.

“hm. you should make a big deal about it, my love. anything that dares hurt your pride is to be destroyed. if you don't feel strong enough to do it, you have me.”

you look up at him as your brows knit together.

“sylus…”

“always,” he adds to his previous statement.

you smile, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“but, i must admit… the idea of claiming your first kiss is very much tempting, kitten.”

you groan and gently push his chest, jumping away from his lap.

“good night, you big birdbrain!”

and he lets you go, very amused.

but he never lets you go too far, so you better hurry if you don’t want him to catch you.

though he will.

he always does.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ xavier! ꒰੭

you two organized a small gathering with mutual friends. he was next to you, enjoying the way you laughed, the way you were so at ease and carefree.

his hand rested on top of yours, and upon feeling his warmth, you felt even better. you laughed, ate some snacks and shared funny anecdotes until your friends eventually started to leave.

now, only xavier and you remained, and neither of you wanted to clean up.

xavier wanted to cuddle, and you two obviously did, nuzzling against each other on the soft couch.

however, surprisingly enough, he wasn't sleepy. he wanted to do something, anything. the night is still young, he said.

so you two decided to play “two truths, one lie.”

as the name indicates, you had to say three statements: two truthful ones, and a false one. he had to guess which one was not true.

“hm, okay… the first one, i skipped training before, and not because of sickness. the second one, i've never cuddled a bear, and third… i've never kissed anyone before.”

he chuckles, gently poking your cheek.

“okay, that's easy.”

you arch your eyebrow, clearly in a playful yet challenging gesture.

“ah, yeah? prove it to me then, xav.”

he grins and puffs his chest.

“obviously, you've never cuddled a bear, otherwise you wouldn't be here to tell it. that's the truth.”

you grin, chuckling with him.

“okay, smarty-pants. you got yourself one point. next!”

he now ponders, averting his gaze as he thinks about your two other statements.

“hm, considering how much you love training, and how you're basically the best, i would have to say that you've never actually skipped it. that's the lie.”

you grin, shaking your head quickly.

his eyes go a bit wide.

“wait, you've skipped training… willingly?”

“mhm. once. there was this webtoon i had been wanting to read for so long, and it just so happened to be published early in the morning. i just had to skip training…”

he smiles, now poking your other cheek as he did before.

“naughty... now i know where your priorities lie.”

“oh, come on! you would have done the same if a book you wanted to read was finally being published after years in the making!”

and he doesn't deny it.

there's a comfortable silence between you two, before he finally shifts, his gaze now curious.

“so… does that mean that your last statement was true?”

“hm?” you tilt your head. then, you remember. “ah! yeah, i've never kissed anyone before. what, is that lame?”

you giggle.

he doesn't.

he suddenly cups your cheek tenderly, and you look at him, puzzled.

“xav…?”

he leans in just a bit, enough for both your breaths to mix together.

“so… if i were to kiss you one day, would that make me your first?”

your cheeks feel suddenly hotter.

you quietly nod, and he smiles.

“good.”

and just like that, he pulls back, now sitting on the couch.

you sit up too, now looking at him as if he was an alien. is he crazy?

“xavier, where are you going?”

he shrugs, starting to pick up everything. from the dirty cups to the almost empty plates of snacks.

“i want to clean up. i'm energized already.”

you just stare. but his words come back to you. if he was to kiss you one day…

so, he wants to kiss you.

oh god, he wants to kiss you.

and you, without noticing, already accepted it beforehand.

you lie down and cover your face with a cushion, trying not to panic.

and he stares from the kitchen door with a soft smile on his lips.

if you're this flustered just by thinking about your first kiss ever, and you already and oh-so-casually agreed to it…

how flustered will you get once it happens?

now he has something new to dream about, so he rushes to clean everything up so he can finally go to sleep with you.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ zayne! ꒰੭

to be honest, ever since you two started dating, nothing really has changed from when you were friends.

well, only a couple things. for example, he'd scold you more, and he is definitely more petty during arguments.

and also, he hugs you. not from behind yet, but you know he wants to, especially when you two go to sleep. and how could you forget his forehead kisses? he likes those, a lot.

now, you were fine with it. he was also seemingly fine with this, and you two enjoyed each other's company while he worked, so there is nothing to complain about, right?

right.

as you read a romance novel quietly, he typed on his computer. you didn't notice his longing gaze, his occasional sighs, the way his eyes would travel down to your parted lips as you read so intently.

you didn't know how zayne felt. you were unaware of how much he wanted to be affectionate, of how much he wanted to just do and not think too much about it afterwards.

he wanted to furiously make out, to hug you until you were breathless, to hold you while you slept and memorize every single scent of yours; from your shampoo to your perfume, to the lingering scent of detergent and even down to your pheromones.

he wanted everything.

soon enough, you look up when the room falls silent, and also because you read the cheesiest scene ever, and you wanted to share. zayne had stopped typing, looking down as his thoughts grew wilder.

“zaynie! what do you think of this scene?”

you get up and approach him, showing him the page.

he finally looks up and reads said paragraph. it is a kissing scene. it describes how explosive it feels to finally kiss the person you love. it also says how it all makes sense afterwards.

“does kissing really feel like that?” you quietly ask. he knows everything after all.

he's like your own search engine.

he fixes his glasses and looks back at his screen.

“how would i know?”

his voice is a bit strained, but he keeps composed.

you sigh, gently smacking his forearm.

“oh, come on! i know you're not a hopeless romantic or anything, but don't you know what kissing is like?”

he stops typing. is that what you think of him?

all this time, you've thought of him as a cold man? or, worse. as someone who doesn't really enjoy physical affection?

he tenses up from head to toe.

this can't be.

“zaynie, i've never kissed before either, so don't feel embarrassed to—”

he stands up, and his chair rides back, away from his desk.

oh, maybe that offended him.

“zayne, that was a joke, i didn't—”

and all of the sudden, your view is blocked.

he hugged you.

both his arms are surrounding you and pulling you closer to his chest. tight, desperate, even more needy after knowing you haven't kissed anyone.

he'll be your first, as much as you'll be his.

he inhales the sweet scent of your shampoo, he presses his cheek against your head.

even when he isn't kissing you, it feels explosive. it makes everything purposeful, worthy.

like the book described a kiss to feel, or rather, what love feels like.

you hesitantly hug him back, but you quickly feel comfortable. his scent, his soft shirt, everything feels just right.

“what page are you reading?”

he quietly asks. you are a bit confused, but you answer anyway.

“chapter 3, page 77. why?”

he hums and steps back ever so slightly, not wanting to fully let go.

“bookmark it.”

you narrow your eyes, but he quickly explains.

“we'll figure out the answer to your question together.”

and your eyes go a bit wide.

“as in… doing research?”

there's a small smile on his lips now, barely noticeable.

“you could say so.”

you nod. you trust his methods, and something tells you you'll even come to enjoy them.

zayne also knows he'll wait. he'll wait until you willingly express and consent for anything to happen, even if it's allowing him a simple kiss on the cheek.

because, if he acts by his own will, he'd never, ever let you go from his side, let alone from his arms.

which were made for you alone.

[honeyslibrary]

Kindergarten Blues | Quinn Hughes

Pairing; dad!Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warning(s); fluff, dad Quinn being soooo adorable, not sure what else

Summary; It's Scarlett's first day of kindergarten, and a certain someone is a mess (installment in the Sweet Girl universe)

Word Count; 3.4k

Authors Note: I love this so so much 😭 -Honey

The first hints of dawn streaked through the curtains of your bedroom as your alarm gently chimed. You reached over to silence it before it could wake Quinn, who was still fast asleep beside you. His face was peaceful, the worry lines that often appeared during hockey season smoothed away. You allowed yourself a moment to watch him, knowing that today would be an emotional one for your little family.

Today was Scarlett's first day of kindergarten.

The thought sent a flutter of anxiety through your chest. How was it possible that your baby girl was already old enough for school? It seemed like just yesterday that Quinn was holding her tiny newborn form in his hockey-calloused hands, looking terrified and awestruck all at once.

You slipped out of bed, padding quietly to the bathroom to brush your teeth and splash some water on your face. The house was quiet, that special kind of stillness that existed only in the early morning. You checked the time, 6:30 AM. Perfect. You had planned everything meticulously to ensure a smooth, unhurried morning for Scarlett's big day.

The lunch you'd prepared the night before waited in the refrigerator: a heart-shaped sandwich (peanut butter and honey, her favorite), apple slices arranged in a flower pattern, carrot sticks, a small container of ranch dip, and a special first-day-of-school cookie you'd picked up from her favorite bakery. Her brand-new lunchbox, sparkly purple with hockey sticks along the border, a special custom order that had made her squeal with delight when she opened it—sat on the counter, ready to be packed.

You started the coffee maker, knowing Quinn would need the caffeine boost this morning. He'd been putting on a brave face about Scarlett starting school, but you caught him looking at baby photos late at night several times in the past week.

With the coffee brewing, you made your way to Scarlett's bedroom. The door was decorated with wooden letters spelling out her name, each one painted by Quinn during your pregnancy. His way of nesting. You pushed it open gently, peeking inside.

Your daughter was sprawled across her bed, one arm flung over her head. Her wild brunette curls, just like Quinn's in texture and color, were spread across her pillow. The covers had been kicked to the foot of the bed, her favorite stuffed penguin clutched tightly against her chest. The penguin had been a gift from Luke and Jack when they'd played the Canucks last season, and it had rarely left her side since.

You sat on the edge of her bed, brushing a curl away from her face.

"Scarlett," you whispered, running a hand gently over her back. "Time to wake up, baby."

She stirred, burying her face deeper into her pillow.

"Sweet girl," you tried again, using Quinn's special nickname for her. "It's a big day today."

Her eyes fluttered open, revealing those striking hazel eyes that were an exact copy of her father's. For a moment, she looked confused, then understanding dawned on her face and she bolted upright.

"Is it school day?" she asked, her voice thick with sleep but vibrating with excitement.

You nodded, unable to suppress your smile at her enthusiasm. "It's school day, baby."

She threw her arms around you, squeezing tight. "I'm gonna be a kindergartener!" she declared, as if it were the most impressive achievement in the world. And to her, it was.

"You sure are," you agreed, returning her hug. "Should we go wake Daddy?"

Scarlett nodded vigorously, already scrambling out of bed. She raced down the hallway in her Care Bear pajamas, gifted by your coworker last Christmas, her bare feet pattering against the hardwood floors.

You followed more slowly, watching as she burst into your bedroom and launched herself onto the bed.

"Daddy! Daddy! It's school day!" she exclaimed, bouncing on the mattress.

Quinn groaned dramatically, pretending to be annoyed by the wake-up call, but you could see the smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He reached out and grabbed Scarlett mid-bounce, pulling her into a bear hug as she squealed with delight.

"Is it your first day already?" he asked, his voice rough with sleep. "I thought that was next year."

"No, Daddy," Scarlett giggled, squirming in his grasp. "Today! September fifth! You promised you'd drive me in your truck!"

"Did I say that?" he teased, tickling her sides. "I can't remember making such a promise."

"You did!" she insisted between fits of laughter. "You pinky swore!"

"Well, if I pinky swore, then I definitely have to do it," Quinn conceded solemnly. "Pinky swears are sacred."

You watched from the doorway, your heart so full it felt like it might burst. Quinn caught your eye over Scarlett's head, and the look that passed between you was one of shared amazement. How did we get so lucky?

"Okay, sweet girl," Quinn said, releasing her from his grip. "If you're going to be a kindergartener today, you should probably get dressed, right?"

Scarlett nodded seriously. "In my new outfit," she specified. "The one with the sparkly stars."

"That's right," you confirmed. "And what about breakfast? What does a kindergartener eat on her first day?"

"Pancakes!" she declared without hesitation. "With blueberries and maple syrup. The real kind from Canada, not Aunt Jemima." She butchers the name, but it’s amusing nonetheless.

Quinn laughed at that. "That's my girl, already a maple syrup snob at six years old."

"Uncle Brock says the American stuff is just sugar water," Scarlett informed you both primly, repeating something she'd overheard at a team barbecue.

"Does he now?" you asked "Well, why don't you and Daddy get started on those pancakes while I grab your outfit?"

Scarlett scrambled off the bed, tugging Quinn's hand. "Come on, Daddy! I'll help crack the eggs!"

"Just what I need in the morning, eggshells in my pancakes," Quinn muttered, but he was smiling as he allowed himself to be pulled from the bed.

You headed to Scarlett's room, opening her closet to retrieve the outfit she'd picked out weeks ago for this special day: a denim jumper with silver stars embroidered across the front, a light purple t-shirt to go underneath, white leggings with more stars along the sides, and her prized possession, light-up sneakers that twinkled with each step. It wasn't the most coordinated outfit, but it was pure Scarlett. Bright, vibrant, and unapologetically herself.

Downstairs, you could hear the sounds of Quinn and Scarlett in the kitchen: the clatter of mixing bowls, Scarlett's high, excited voice, and Quinn's deeper responses. By the time you joined them, flour dusted the countertop, and Quinn had a streak of it across his forehead.

"Mommy, I'm making the best pancakes ever!" Scarlett announced, standing on her step stool by the counter, wooden spoon in hand.

"I can see that," you said, setting her clothes on a clean section of counter. "The kitchen is wearing almost as much batter as is in the bowl."

Quinn shot you an apologetic look. "We got a little excited with the mixing."

"It's a special day," you conceded, dropping a kiss on his flour-dusted cheek. "I think the kitchen can handle a little mess."

While Quinn supervised the pancake cooking, you helped Scarlett get dressed in her chosen outfit. Her excitement was contagious, and you found yourself getting caught up in her joy as she twirled to make her sneakers light up.

"Mommy," she said suddenly, her expression turning serious. "Can you do my hair in pigtails today? With the purple ribbons? I want to look pretty for my teacher."

"Of course, sweet girl," you replied, using Quinn's nickname without thinking. "You're going to be the cutest in the class."

After breakfast, which was indeed quite delicious despite the mess involved in its creation, you took Scarlett to the bathroom to brush her teeth. She insisted on doing it herself, "because I'm a big girl now," but you took over brushing the back molars.

Then came the hair styling. You sat her on a stool in front of the bathroom mirror, carefully parting her blonde curls down the middle and working each side into a neat pigtail. The purple ribbons were tied into perfect bows, and when you were finished, Scarlett beamed at her reflection.

"I look like a princess," she declared, a descriptor that perfectly encapsulated your daughter's dual obsessions.

"The prettiest princess I've ever seen," Quinn agreed from the doorway, now showered and dressed in dark jeans and a button-down shirt, far more put-together than his usual off season attire of athletic shorts and a t-shirt.

You raised an eyebrow at him. "You clean up nice, Captain."

He shrugged, a slight flush coloring his cheeks. "It's a big day. Thought I should make an effort."

While Quinn helped Scarlett put on her backpack, a miniature version of his Canucks gear bag, complete with the number 43 and "HUGHES" emblazoned on the side, you grabbed her lunch and the small chalkboard sign you'd prepared the night before.

Outside, the morning was crisp and clear, a hint of autumn in the air despite it only being early September. Quinn's truck was parked in the driveway, freshly washed for the occasion.

"Picture time!" you announced, holding up the sign that read "My First Day of Kindergarten" in your neatest handwriting.

Scarlett posed proudly in front of the house, holding the sign with both hands, her smile so wide it seemed to take up half her face. Quinn stood back with you, his arm around your waist, watching as your daughter preened for the camera.

"She's going to be fine," you whispered to him, sensing the tension in his body. "She's so ready for this."

"I know," he murmured back. "It's not her I'm worried about."

After what felt like a hundred photos, solo shots of Scarlett, pictures with you, with Quinn, with both of you, with just her backpack, with her lunchbox, it was finally time to leave for school.

"I call shotgun!" Scarlett yelled, racing toward Quinn's truck.

"Nice try, sweet girl," Quinn laughed, opening the back door instead. "Kindergarteners ride in the back seat. Captain's orders."

Scarlett huffed but allowed herself to be buckled into her booster seat. "When I'm seven, can I ride in the front?"

"When you're sixteen," Quinn countered.

"Eight?"

"Fifteen."

"Nine?"

"Fourteen and that's my final offer."

You listened to their familiar negotiation game with a smile as you climbed into the passenger seat. This was their thing, a back-and-forth that could go on for ages, neither one ever actually expecting to win but both enjoying the verbal sparring nonetheless.

The drive to Scarlett's elementary school was short but seemed to stretch on forever. You glanced back frequently, watching as Scarlett's eyes widened at the sight of other children walking hand-in-hand with their parents toward the school building.

Quinn was unusually quiet, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. You reached over, placing your hand on his thigh, offering silent support. He gave you a tight smile in return.

Finding a parking spot proved challenging, with every parent accompanying their child on the first day, but Quinn eventually wedged his truck between a minivan and an SUV.

"Ready, sweet girl?" he asked, his voice admirably steady as he helped Scarlett down from her seat.

She nodded, suddenly looking much smaller with her oversized backpack and lunchbox. She reached for both your hands, positioning herself between you and Quinn.

The walk to her classroom was a blur of activity. Other parents taking photos, teachers greeting new students with bright smiles, older children rushing to find their friends after the summer break. Through it all, Scarlett held tight to your hands, her initial bravado tempered now by the reality of what was happening.

Outside Room 8, a young woman with a warm smile and curly brown hair stood greeting each child. A name tag on her dress read "Ms. Jones."

"You must be Scarlett," she said, kneeling down to your daughter's level. "I'm Ms. Jones. I'm so excited to have you in my class this year."

Scarlett inched slightly closer to Quinn's leg but managed a small "Hi."

"I love your pigtails," Ms. Jones continued. "And those shoes are amazing! Do they light up?"

Scarlett nodded, stomping one foot to demonstrate. The action seemed to bolster her confidence. "My daddy got them for me. He's the captain of the Canucks."

Ms. Jones' eyes flickered briefly to Quinn, a flash of recognition there and quickly suppressed. To her credit, she redirected her attention immediately back to Scarlett. "Well, that's very exciting! We have a special helper job called 'Line Leader' in our classroom. Maybe you'd like to try that today?"

Scarlett's eyes widened. "Like a captain?"

"Exactly like a captain," Ms. Jones confirmed. "Would you like to come in and see where your cubby is? You can put your backpack away."

Scarlett looked up at you and Quinn, seeking reassurance. You nodded encouragingly, even as your throat tightened with emotion.

"We'll be right here," Quinn promised, his voice rougher than usual. "We're not leaving yet."

That seemed to be all the encouragement Scarlett needed. She let go of your hands and stepped forward to take Ms. Jones' outstretched one.

"I'll bring her right back to say goodbye," the teacher assured you both before leading Scarlett into the colorful classroom.

As soon as Scarlett was out of sight, you felt Quinn's hand grip yours tightly. You turned to look at him and were startled by the sheen of tears in his eyes.

"Quinn," you murmured, squeezing his hand. "Are you okay?"

He tried to smile but it wobbled precariously. "Yeah, I just... she's so small, you know? And that backpack is almost as big as she is, and what if the other kids aren't nice, or what if she gets scared and we're not there, or what if—"

"Quinn," you interrupted gently, turning to face him fully. "She's going to be fine. She's strong and smart and friendly. She's got this."

He nodded, taking a deep breath. "I know. I know she does. She's the bravest person I know, and she's only six." He laughed shakily.

You smiled. "Remember when she was four and insisted on skating with the team during family skate? No fear whatsoever."

Quinn's eyes softened at the recollection. "She went straight up to Demko and told him his pads were too big and that's why he kept falling down."

"And he just nodded like she'd given him the most profound advice," you added, laughing.

The brief walk down memory lane seemed to steady Quinn somewhat, but when Scarlett reappeared in the doorway, backpack stowed and ready to officially start her day, you felt him tense beside you.

"Mommy! Daddy! I have my own hook with my name on it!" she exclaimed, pointing back into the classroom. "And there's a reading corner with beanbags and a science table with a real microscope!"

"That sounds amazing, sweet girl," Quinn said, kneeling down to her level. "Are you ready for your first day?"

Scarlett nodded enthusiastically, but then hesitated. "Will you come get me after school is over? Promise?"

"Wild horses couldn't keep us away," Quinn assured her, pulling her into a tight hug. "I'll be counting the minutes until I see you again."

You watched as he held onto her just a fraction longer than necessary, his eyes squeezed shut as if committing the moment to memory. When he finally released her, you could see he was fighting back tears.

"Have the best day, baby," you said, taking your turn to hug her. "We can't wait to hear all about it later."

Scarlett beamed at you both, then turned to Ms. Jones, who was waiting patiently nearby. "I'm ready now," she declared with all the gravity a six-year-old could muster.

"Excellent," Ms. Jones smiled. "Say goodbye to your parents, and then we'll find your seat for morning circle."

"Bye, Mommy! Bye, Daddy!" Scarlett called, already moving toward the classroom. "Love you infinity!"

"Love you infinity plus one," Quinn responded automatically, your family's familiar farewell.

And then she was gone, disappearing into the classroom with one last wave and a flash of light-up sneakers.

You and Quinn stood frozen for a moment, staring at the spot where she'd been. Around you, other parents were wiping away tears or hugging each other for support.

When you turned to Quinn, you were startled to see tears flowing freely down his face.

"Quinn," you whispered, pulling him a few steps away from the classroom door for privacy.

He tried to speak but choked on the words. Instead, he pulled you into a fierce hug, burying his face in your neck. You could feel the dampness of his tears against your skin.

"It's okay," you soothed, rubbing circles on his back despite the lump in your own throat. "She's okay."

"I know," he managed after a moment, his voice muffled against you. "I just... when did she get so big? I still remember the first time I held her, she was so tiny I was terrified I'd break her."

You smiled at the memory. Centered, unflappable Quinn Hughes, renowned for his composure under pressure on the ice, completely undone by a seven-pound newborn.

"And now she's walking into that classroom like she owns the place," he continued, pulling back slightly to look at you, his hazel eyes, so like Scarlett's, swimming with tears. "When did that happen?"

"One day at a time," you replied simply, reaching up to wipe a tear from his cheek. "That's how it always happens."

Quinn took a deep, shuddering breath, collecting himself. "I thought I was prepared for this," he admitted. "I even gave myself a pep talk in the shower this morning."

"Did it include 'don't cry in front of the other dads'?" you teased gently.

He groaned, glancing around to see if any of the other parents had noticed his breakdown. "Petey is never going to let me live this down if he finds out."

"Your secret's safe with me," you promised, linking your arm through his as you began walking toward the exit. "Although I have to say, I'm a little surprised. I thought I'd be the emotional wreck today."

Quinn shrugged, his composure slowly returning. "I think it hit me harder because... well, she's my little angel, you know? We have our morning skates and our secret handshake and our special pregame rituals. And now she's going to have this whole life that doesn't include me."

The vulnerability in his admission made your heart ache. "She'll always be your little girl," you assured him. "School doesn't change that."

He nodded, though he still looked a bit lost. "I just hope she has a good day."

"She will," you said confidently. "And then she'll come home and tell us all about it, and tomorrow will be a little easier, and the day after that easier still."

You reached the truck, and Quinn opened your door before walking around to the driver's side. Inside, the silence felt heavy with the absence of Scarlett's chatter from the back seat.

Quinn stared at the school building through the windshield, making no move to start the engine. "Is it ridiculous that I want to sit in the parking lot all day, just in case she needs us?"

You reached over, taking his hand in yours. "Not ridiculous. Very sweet, but not practical."

He sighed, finally turning the key in the ignition. "I suppose you're right."

"How about this," you suggested. "Let's go get breakfast, just the two of us. When was the last time we did that?"

Quinn considered this, a small smile finally breaking through his melancholy. "Probably before Scarlett was born."

"Exactly. We can go to that diner you like, the one with the ridiculously strong coffee."

"And the breakfast casseroles?" he asked, perking up slightly.

"Those very ones," you confirmed. "And then we can take our time, maybe walk along the seawall, and still be back with plenty of time to pick her up."

Quinn nodded, finally putting the truck in reverse. "Okay, yeah. That sounds good." He glanced at you, love and gratitude evident in his expression. "Thank you."

"For what?" you asked.

"For knowing exactly what to say. For being strong when I'm a mess. For giving me the most amazing daughter in the world." He leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "For everything."

My Patreon, where you can find exclusive fics not posted anywhere else: HERE

[novvabee]

And They Were Roommates pt.7

Summary: this one is pretty short and sweet, but Y/N makes the boys friendship bracelets.

“What colors do you want?” you ask Sirius who is sitting on the other side of the couch, picking out beads and charms that he likes. You were making little bracelets for you and the girls when Sirius walked in the living room and asked what you were up to. He cozied up next to you and watched as you intricately wove and knotted a pink, white, and green bracelet for Lily. Once you were finished he sweetly asked for one, and you of course agreed.

“Do you have red and black?” he asked, still sifting through the little charms.

“Of course,” you replied, “I also have this silvery color I think you’d like.” You lifted the string of the shimmery silver so he could see. His face lit up and he nodded. You cut three equal length strings in the colors he wanted and began tying knots.

He handed you three charms that he wanted: a star, a red guitar, and cherries. You couldn’t explain it, but those charms just made sense on a Sirius bracelet. 

He hovered over you, watching intently, sitting close enough to rest his chin on your shoulder. You enjoyed this small, quiet moment with Sirius. You felt like you didn’t get them often, but when they happen, it leaves you with a warm feeling all over.

“Could you teach me how to make one?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you replied, “just grab some colors and copy me.” you turned to face him, legs criss-crossed, knees touching his. 

“Ok, just go slow.” he said.

You smiled and showed him the basic knots and loops he had to copy, at a much slower pace, making sure your work was on clear display for him to follow. “See you make a ‘4’ with the strings, and make sure it is tight so that you can see the pattern,” you explained, “and then you move to the next string.”

“W-wait, slow down.” he laughed.

“Keep up, slow poke.” you laughed back. In all fairness, he did try, but somewhere along the way it all went wrong. 

The bracelet, if you could call it that, turned into some sort of knotted ball, strings hanging loose. You bit your lip and turned away to stop from laughing.

“Don’t you dare laugh.” he said, this just made you hide your face in your hands to muffle the giggles coming out. “Stop it! I tried so hard!” he said, fake pouting. 

“Oh it’s lovely Siri,” you laughed, holding out your wrist for him to tie it to. It looked like something a cat would play with, but you were genuinely proud of him for trying. He grabbed ahold of your wrist and secured it, a goofy smile cut across his face. You loved to see it, loved that he was comfortable to be silly around you, himself around you.

“Ok, ok my turn.” you say to him. He closed his eyes and held out his wrist, the same way you did. You tied the bracelet around his wrist, knotting it to make sure he could take it off when he wanted. “Ok look!”

He opened his eyes. His smile grew and he looked quite pleased. “I love it.” he said, eyes not moving from the strings. There it was again, that warm little feeling. "You gotta tie it tighter so it wont come off." you nodded and tightened it. You thought surely he would take it off soon after you put it on, but maybe you thought wrong.

You heard footsteps make their way downstairs. You looked up seeing Remus, still in pajamas and hair a bit messy. 

“Morning sunshine.” Sirius shot at him. Remus yawned and made his way over to the pair of you. It wasn’t irregular for him to sleep in so late, usually allowing himself a day of rest once a month, you figured it was because he always stayed up so late and he was trying to fix his sleep schedule.

“Hi Remmy,” you greeted him.

“What are you two up to?” he asked, voice groggy and deep.

“We are making bracelets, Y/N is teaching me.” Sirius said, holding his wrist up for Remus to see.

Remus took Sirius’s hand and held it close, examining your work. He smiled at you. “Fine craftsmanship, I see,” he said jokingly.

“Would you like one? I can make one for you as well.” you asked. It would not take long at all, you had made hundreds before.

He nodded. “Course I would like one, love.”

You beamed up at him, clapping your hands eagerly. “Pick out the colors and charms you’d like.” you ordered him.

He chose green, brown, and a yellowy tan color. The colors much like the sweaters he often wears. He picked out a singular charm, a crescent moon, and the letters spelling out ‘moony’.

“Moony?” you asked. He was now sitting on the armchair, sitting sideways, long legs dangling over the arm’s edge. 

He chuckled, supplying you with a short, “It’s a nickname.”

“But why-” you were interrupted with the front door opening and James swooping in, always the tornado. He was out of breath and sweaty, just coming back from a jog.

“Hello! I need to shower- Ah Remus nice to see you’re finally awake, anyways after that I want to make dinner-Chicken and pasta alright?” he asked, so fast paced and chaotic, the way he always was. He stopped in his tracks when he saw what you were doing, coming to the back of the couch and looking over. “What is that?” he asked.

“A bracelet, I made one for Sirius and now one for Remus. Sirius made me one too, which I love and am very proud of.” you held up your arm for James to see the yarn ball dangling halfway on your wrist. James and Remus both burst into laughter, Sirius chuckling along with them. 

“Well that's not fair,” James said, “if you are making friendship bracelets, I want one too.”

You giggled at the slight childishness of that statement, but  replied, “Fine, you pick out some colors and charms too.”

James picked red, yellow, and white for his colors and two tiny gold charms; a sun and a lightning bolt. The sun made sense for him, he was always the light and warmth within the house, bright and happy. The lightning bolt however…

“Why the lightning bolt?” you asked, straining your neck all the way back to look at him above the couch.

He smiled down at you and shrugged. “No clue, I just think it’s cool.”

Taglist 💌: @too-efn-old-to-be-here @cometsghost @eeviee4 @giuli-in-earth @spicybearnaise @the-lavender-girl @adharalikethestar @champomiel @itsleroyposts

[theastralsage]

Fault Lines

❤︎ tags and content: friends to lovers, mutual pining, one bed trope, snowed in, smut, xavier x f!reader, feral xavier, rough sex ❤︎ author note: reuploaded 🔞NSFW content - Minors DNI 🔞 Dividers: @/omi.resources ©2025 theastralsage do not repost, copy, translate, or modify

The train rumbled beneath you, a steady hum that barely cut through the howling wind outside. Snow streaked past the windows in thick, blinding waves, the storm swallowing the landscape beyond. The interior of the train was warm, but a subtle chill still lingered in the air, seeping through the metal frame.

Across from you, Xavier sat with his arms crossed, gaze flickering between the datapad in his hands and the storm outside. He was composed, as always—sharp lines, cool demeanor, a presence that never quite relaxed, even in transit.

You pulled your coat tighter around you, exhaling softly. “I don’t know why they thought sending us out now was a good idea,” you muttered, watching the whiteout conditions blur past the window.

Xavier didn’t look up. “Weather patterns are unpredictable. It was clear when we left.”

“Still. I bet half the city is shutting down by now.”

At that, he finally lifted his gaze to you. “Then we’ll adjust.”

That was such a Xavier answer that you huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “Of course. Adapt and overcome.”

His lips twitched—just barely—but he didn’t argue.

For a while, the two of you sat in relative silence, the train’s steady motion and the occasional muffled announcement the only things filling the space between words. It wasn’t uncomfortable, though. Xavier wasn’t the type to fill silences unnecessarily, and you’d long since learned to read the conversations in his quiet glances, his subtle shifts in expression.

Eventually, you stretched out your legs slightly, nudging his boot with yours beneath the table. “So. What’s on your schedule after this?”

Xavier glanced at you, considering. “Routine surveillance. Lower district.”

“Exciting.”

He arched a brow. “Necessary.”

You hummed, tilting your head. “Yeah, but necessary doesn’t always mean interesting.”

“I don’t need it to be interesting.”

“Of course you don’t.” Your lips quirked. “You probably prefer it when things are uneventful.”

“Efficiency is preferable to unnecessary complications,” he replied smoothly.

You smirked, leaning back. “Boring.”

He didn’t argue, but there was something almost amused in the glance he gave you before he returned his focus to the datapad.

Outside, the storm thickened. The train slowed slightly, adjusting for the weather.

You sighed, shifting in your seat. “Hopefully this place has good heating. I don’t think I’ve been this cold in a while.”

Xavier made a quiet sound of agreement, his gaze lingering on the frost-lined window. “It’ll pass.”

You nodded, watching the snow continue to fall. Something about it felt heavy, like the kind of storm that could shift plans, change trajectories. But for now, the train carried you forward, the destination still ahead.

The train groaned as it pulled into the station, its momentum slowing until it finally lurched to a stop. Outside, the city was buried beneath layers of freshly fallen snow, the streets dusted white beneath flickering streetlights. The blizzard hadn’t let up—the wind still howled through the towering buildings, sending spirals of ice and powder sweeping across the platforms.

You pulled your coat tighter around you as you stepped onto the platform, boots crunching against the frozen ground. The cold was instant, seeping through the layers of fabric like it had been waiting for you to step outside.

Xavier descended beside you, his expression unreadable as always, though you caught the subtle way he adjusted his gloves, flexing his fingers against the cold. Even he wasn’t immune to it, then.

A sharp gust of wind cut through the station, and you swore under your breath. “Damn. I think it got worse.”

Xavier exhaled, watching his breath fog in the icy air. “It’ll pass.”

“You said that an hour ago,” you muttered.

He didn’t respond, but you could’ve sworn the look he gave you held a flicker of amusement.

A moment later, he shifted slightly, turning to face you fully. “Your route takes you through the research district?”

“Yeah. Shouldn’t take long,” you said, adjusting the strap of your bag. “And you’re headed toward the lower sector?”

He nodded. “Expected to check in before sundown.”

You huffed, blowing warm air into your gloved hands. “Alright. I’ll meet you at the hotel once I’m done.”

Xavier didn’t respond right away, glancing toward the snow-covered city stretching out before you both. The station was bustling despite the weather—figures in heavy coats moving through the haze of frost and lamplight, their footsteps muffled by the snow.

Then, finally, he spoke. “Be careful.”

It was quiet, just two simple words, but something about the way he said it made warmth flicker in your chest despite the freezing air.

You smirked. “You too.”

Xavier gave a small nod, then turned, adjusting the high collar of his coat as he stepped off toward his destination. You lingered for a second, watching him disappear into the crowd, before exhaling and setting off in the opposite direction.

The storm roared overhead.

<hr>

The research district was eerily quiet, muffled by the heavy snowfall. The usual hum of city life was subdued beneath layers of ice and cold, leaving only the distant hum of power grids and the occasional flickering streetlight to break the silence.

You tightened your grip on your coat, stepping briskly through the narrow streets. The cold bit at your face, but you ignored it, focused on the task at hand. This was supposed to be routine—just a check-in with the local researchers, exchanging updated intel, and making sure all sensitive data remained secure.

Inside the main lab building, the warmth was an immediate contrast. The overhead lights buzzed, casting a sterile glow over the pristine floors. A handful of researchers milled about, all looking more exhausted than usual, their coats hastily thrown over chairs. The storm must’ve been keeping them here longer than intended.

Dr. Lian, the head researcher, barely looked up from her screen when you entered. “You’re late.”

You pulled off your gloves, rubbing warmth back into your fingers. “Blame the train. You have the reports?”

She slid a tablet across the counter. “Encrypted, as requested. But there’s been… unusual movement near the old storage facilities. Someone’s been poking around.”

You frowned. “Any breaches?”

“None yet.” She hesitated. “But I have a feeling it’s only a matter of time.”

You nodded, tucking the tablet into your coat. “I’ll flag it for review. Keep everything locked down until then.”

Lian sighed, rubbing her temples. “I’ll add it to the list of things keeping me up at night.”

You smirked. “Welcome to the club.”

With that, you left the lab, stepping back into the freezing cold. The snow was falling heavier now, thick flakes sticking to your hair as you pulled your coat tighter. You had what you came for—now, it was time to meet up with Xavier.

<hr>

Xavier moved through the lower sector with practiced ease, slipping between narrow alleyways and quiet streets, his breath fogging in the cold air.

The lower district was always unpredictable. Even in this weather, figures loitered in the shadows, half-hidden beneath hoods and coats. It wasn’t just the cold that made people keep their heads down here.

He stepped into a dimly lit outpost, the faint hum of security monitors filling the air. The contact he was meeting—a wiry man with sharp eyes and a nervous twitch—didn’t bother with greetings.

“There’s been movement,” the man muttered, pulling up a grainy feed on one of the monitors. “Near the restricted zones.”

Xavier studied the footage. Silhouettes moving where they shouldn’t be. Patterns that suggested more than just random strays.

“They’re testing the perimeter,” Xavier observed.

The contact nodded grimly. “I don’t know what they’re planning, but it’s not small.”

Xavier exhaled, rolling his shoulders. “I’ll report it.”

The man hesitated. “You think command will take it seriously?”

Xavier’s gaze was sharp. “They will.”

That seemed to settle things. The contact leaned back, rubbing his hands together for warmth. “Storm’s getting worse. You should get moving before the trains start shutting down.”

Xavier was already turning toward the door. “I have somewhere to be.”

<hr>

By the time you reached the hotel, the city was practically buried in snow. The storm had thickened into an unrelenting whiteout, the streets coated in ice, the distant hum of emergency broadcasts echoing through the streets.

The lobby was a welcome relief—warm, modern, with soft golden lighting and a quiet hum of activity as stranded travelers checked in. You sighed, shaking the snow from your coat as you stepped inside.

You didn’t have to look long to find Xavier. He was already there, standing near the front desk, his coat dusted with snow, his sharp gaze scanning the room. He looked up as you approached, his expression as unreadable as ever, though you caught the flicker of assessment in his gaze—checking for injuries, exhaustion, anything out of place.

“I take it your mission went smoothly?” he asked.

You exhaled, pulling off your gloves. “Define smoothly.”

A ghost of amusement passed through his eyes, but he didn’t press. “We should check in before the storm worsens.”

You nodded, glancing around. The hotel was filling up fast—travelers seeking shelter, some looking frustrated as they spoke to staff. You didn’t think much of it. Not yet.

As Xavier turned toward the front desk, you followed, unaware that in just a few minutes, everything was about to go very, very wrong.

The warmth of the hotel lobby did little to thaw the exhaustion settling in your bones. The storm outside had only worsened, snow piling against the glass doors as wind howled through the streets. More travelers had filtered in, their coats damp, their faces pinched with frustration as they spoke with staff.

Still, you weren’t concerned. Not yet.

Xavier stepped up to the front desk, cool and composed as always, while you busied yourself rubbing warmth back into your fingers. The receptionist—a tired-looking woman with dark circles under her eyes—offered a polite, if strained, smile.

“Welcome,” she said, fingers already moving across her console. “Name on the reservation?”

“Xavier.” His voice was clipped, efficient. “There should be two rooms.”

The receptionist’s expression faltered. That was the first sign something was wrong.

She frowned at the screen, then hesitated. “Ah. About that.”

Xavier’s brows barely lifted, but you caught the subtle way his posture shifted.

You sighed. “What about that?”

The receptionist winced. “It seems there was a… logistical issue. Due to the storm, we had several unexpected bookings. We did our best to accommodate, but unfortunately—”

A pause. A weary glance between the two of you.

“There’s only one room available.”

Silence.

You stared at her. “One room?”

She nodded apologetically. “We’re completely booked. Every available space has already been filled.”

You exhaled, slow and measured. “Okay. Fine. Not ideal, but fine. It’s at least a double room, right?”

Another hesitation.

Your stomach dropped.

“It’s a single,” she admitted. “With one bed.”

Another beat of silence. This time, heavier.

You weren’t looking at Xavier, but you felt the shift in the air beside you. Like he’d gone perfectly, painfully still.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, finally, you turned toward him. “Well,” you said, voice drier than the tundra outside. “That’s unfortunate.”

Xavier’s jaw tightened just slightly. “...Yes.”

The receptionist, clearly desperate to smooth things over, jumped in. “I truly apologize for the inconvenience. We’d offer a cot, but we’re out of those as well.”

Of course.

You dragged a hand down your face. “Right. So. One room. One bed.”

Xavier exhaled through his nose, the sharp edge of frustration barely visible beneath the usual composure. “It’s late,” he said, voice even. “We’ll take it.”

You blinked. “We will?”

“It’s a bed,” he said, tone just a little too pragmatic. “Given the alternatives, it’s acceptable.”

You squinted at him, but he was already reaching for the room key.

Fine. Fine. You could handle this.

Probably.

Without another word, you grabbed your bag and followed him toward the elevator, the tension trailing behind you both like a second storm.

The moment the door clicked open, you immediately assessed the situation.

It was a nice room—modern, warm, with soft lighting and a window overlooking the snow-covered streets. The heater hummed quietly in the corner, doing its best to chase away the outside chill.

But none of that mattered. Because the centerpiece of the room—the only piece of furniture that really mattered—was the large, singular bed pressed against the far wall.

You and Xavier stood in the doorway, silent.

Neither of you moved.

Finally, you sighed, stepping inside and tossing your bag onto the chair in the corner. “Alright. We’re both adults. This is just sleeping. No big deal.”

Xavier made a noise that sounded suspiciously like agreement, though he was still standing stiffly by the door, like he wasn’t quite ready to commit to entering.

You shot him a look. “Don’t tell me you’re the one making this weird.”

He exhaled sharply, stepping further inside, his movements precise and controlled. “I’m not making it anything.”

“Good,” you said, kicking off your boots. “Because I really don’t have the energy to sleep in the bathtub.”

He gave you a glance—flat, unimpressed. “That’s unnecessary.”

“Well, yeah, but so is sharing a bed with you.”

He didn’t argue.

Another beat of silence stretched between you before he finally moved toward his side of the room, undoing the buttons on his coat with careful precision. His gloves landed neatly on the table, his every movement deliberate, measured.

You, meanwhile, were already face-down on the bed, groaning into the pillow. “This is going to be so awkward.”

Xavier paused, then muttered, “Agreed.”

The heater hummed. The storm raged on outside. And the two of you stood at opposite sides of the room, acutely aware that sooner or later, you’d have to turn off the lights—and deal with the fact that there was, in fact, only one bed.

You exhaled slowly, rubbing your hands over your face as you sat up. The warmth of the room was helping, but the cold from outside still clung to you, a deep chill settled in your bones.

“I’m taking the shower first,” you announced, standing before Xavier could argue. “I need to thaw out before I turn into an icicle.”

He barely glanced up from where he was unzipping his bag. “Go ahead.”

You hesitated. You weren’t sure what you expected—maybe some kind of snark, or another pointedly flat agreed, but no. He was just… casually rolling up his sleeves, focused on methodically unpacking.

Right. Fine. Normal behavior.

You grabbed some clothes from your bag and stepped into the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

The moment you were alone, you let out a long breath.

Okay. This wasn’t that bad. It was temporary. Just a minor inconvenience. You could handle one bed. It wasn’t like you and Xavier were going to be cuddling or anything. You’d both just stay on your own sides and get through the night like professionals.

Totally fine.

You turned on the water, stripping off your cold-dampened clothes while the steam began to curl against the mirror. The shower was heaven—hot water rolling over your skin, the kind of warmth that made your muscles finally start to relax. You stayed there longer than necessary, letting the heat chase away the tension in your shoulders, the chill in your fingers.

By the time you stepped out, wrapped in a towel, the mirror was fully fogged over.

And yet, despite the warmth, a prickle of anticipation settled in your stomach. Because you were about to step back into that room. And Xavier would still be there.

You shook off the thought, quickly pulling on fresh clothes before running a towel through your hair. This was fine. Completely fine.

While you were in the shower, Xavier busied himself with the simple, methodical process of unpacking. Clothes folded. Gear stowed away. Weapons secured. It was a routine he could do on autopilot, a way to ground himself in the familiarity of order.

But then his communicator buzzed.

His gaze flicked to the screen, reading the message quickly.

UPDATE: Due to severe weather conditions, all travel has been suspended. No departures until further notice.

Xavier’s jaw tensed.

More than one night, then.

He glanced toward the bathroom, where the faint sound of running water still filled the room. You didn’t know yet.

He should tell you. It would be the practical thing to do. But instead, he sat down at the edge of the bed, pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead, willing away the very real fact that he was about to spend multiple nights sharing a space with you.

With you.

Xavier had trained himself well—his focus was sharp, his control ironclad. But that control had never been tested quite like this.

He was used to watching you. Observing from a distance, cataloging your habits, the way you moved, the way you felt—a presence that had long since embedded itself in his mind. It was something he could usually ignore, tuck away in the part of his brain that kept things need-to-know, classified, untouchable.

But now there would be no distance.

His gaze flicked toward the bed—the single, far too small bed.

His fingers twitched at his side.

This wasn’t ideal. But it was just sleeping. A basic, biological necessity. If he could manage high-risk operations, enemy encounters, and missions that required complete emotional detachment, then he could certainly manage this.

Except…

His mind betrayed him for a second, slipping past the carefully constructed walls. A flicker of something unbidden—the thought of you in this room, shifting under the covers, breathing soft in the dark.

He exhaled sharply. It’s fine.

The bathroom door opened, and a wave of steam curled into the room as you stepped out, dressed in warm, comfortable clothes, hair still damp.

His gaze barely flickered over you before he forced himself to turn back to his bag, fastening the last strap with precise efficiency.

You arched a brow. “You unpacked?”

“We’ll be here longer than expected.” His voice was as even as ever, though he left out the part about how much longer.

You groaned. “I was afraid of that.”

He nodded. “You should get comfortable.”

You snorted, running a hand through your damp hair. “Right. Super easy when I have to share a bed with you.”

A pause. His grip tightened slightly on the strap of his bag.

That feeling surged up again—quick, sharp, gone before he could examine it.

“...I’ll shower,” he said simply, stepping past you toward the bathroom.

And just like that, he put space between you again, slipping back into the safety of cold water and careful control.

<hr>

Xavier emerged from the bathroom, steam rolling out behind him, his damp hair slightly tousled from where he’d run a towel through it. He had changed into a black shirt and sleep pants, the kind of simple, no-nonsense outfit you should not have thoughts about—but here you were, thinking them anyway.

You quickly shoved those thoughts aside and buried yourself deeper under the covers, pulling the blanket higher like it could somehow shield you from reality. This is fine.

He crossed the room with his usual quiet efficiency, placing his folded clothes exactly where he wanted them, movements sharp, precise, completely unfazed—meanwhile, you were lying there, internally screaming.

Then came the moment you’d been bracing for.

Xavier lifted the blanket and slid into the bed.

You stared at the ceiling. He stared at the ceiling.

The bed felt smaller than it had five minutes ago.

A whole galaxy of space existed elsewhere in the room, but here, under this blanket, it felt like you were occupying the same inch of breathable air. His warmth seeped into the space between you, his presence too much despite the fact that he hadn’t even touched you.

You shifted slightly, trying to find a comfortable position.

Unfortunately, that meant accidentally brushing your foot against his leg.

It was meant to be nothing. A brief, fleeting touch. But the second your freezing toes made contact with his skin—

Oh.

You barely had time to register the fact that he’d tensed before you realized something much, much worse.

That was not his leg.

Your entire body locked up, a slow, creeping horror spreading through your system as realization slammed into you like a freight train.

Xavier was hard.

Like—no-question-about-it, very visibly affected, no way to ignore it—hard.

You stopped breathing.

He stopped breathing.

A thick, suffocating silence filled the room as the two of you lay there, perfectly still, your foot still traitorously pressed against the very real, very undeniable evidence of whatever the hell this was.

Your brain short-circuited.

Oh no. Oh no.

Your entire being screamed at you to move, to fix this, to rewind time and pretend this never happened—but it was like your body had forgotten how to function.

And Xavier?

Xavier was still not moving.

Which was somehow worse, because that meant he was actively trying not to react. And Xavier never hesitated, never faltered, never got thrown off his game.

Until now.

Very, very slowly, you retracted your foot, heat rushing to your face so fast it was a miracle you didn’t spontaneously combust.

“…So,” you whispered, voice strangled. “That’s a thing that’s happening.”

Xavier inhaled sharply through his nose, his jaw clenched so tightly you were afraid he might break a tooth.

You were about to make a joke—something, anything to cut the tension—when his voice finally came, low and dangerously controlled:

“Go to sleep.”

A pause.

Then, unable to help yourself—because you were you and your survival instincts were terrible—you murmured, “Not sure I can now.”

His fingers twitched against the blanket.

You bit your lip, glancing sideways at him. “I mean, should we—”

“Don’t.”

His voice was strained, his breathing controlled, but when you turned your head slightly, you caught it—that look in his eyes. The kind of restraint that meant he was holding back something dangerous.

Something he wanted.

And now, neither of you were pretending anymore.

You could feel the tension thick in the air, pressing down on both of you. You weren’t even sure who was going to break first.

But someone was going to.

The silence stretched between you like a drawn wire, tense and vibrating with something neither of you could ignore anymore. The heat from his body was palpable now, pressing into your side despite the fact that you weren’t even touching.

Not yet.

Your breath came shallow. You could feel the weight of his restraint, the tight coil of it in his muscles, the way his fingers flexed once, twice against the blanket like he was debating something.

You had no idea what would happen if one of you pushed just a little harder.

So, naturally, you did.

Slowly—carefully—you turned onto your side, facing him in the dim light. The sheets shifted, a whisper of fabric, and Xavier’s breath hitched.

And that’s when you knew.

Knew that he was right there, standing on the very edge of whatever this was, waiting for a single excuse to fall.

“…Xavier.” Your voice was softer than you intended, edged with something you couldn’t name.

He didn’t answer.

But then—he moved.

One second, he was rigid beside you, a locked system of restraint. The next, he was rolling onto his side, facing you fully, the heat of his body washing over you like a second blanket.

Then—his hand.

Slow, deliberate, sliding beneath the covers. His fingers brushed over your hip first, barely a touch, before skimming lower, wrapping around your thigh.

You squeaked.

That was all it took.

Xavier exhaled sharply, and then he dragged you closer, his grip firm, pressing your leg over his. The blanket shifted, tangled between you, but you barely noticed because—

Oh. Oh, he was right there.

The sharp scent of clean skin and faint soap. The warmth of his breath, slow but heavy, controlled but barely. His hand on your thigh, fingers pressing in like he wanted to memorize the shape of you.

His voice, when it finally came, was deep, wrecked.

“You keep moving closer,” he murmured, low and deliberate. “What is it you want?”

Your stomach flipped.

“You,” you blurted before you could stop yourself.

A mistake. A massive mistake.

Because Xavier laughed.

Not his usual dry, nearly silent exhale. No—this was low, amused, but dark at the edges, like he’d just been given permission to be exactly what he was.

His hand flexed against your thigh.

And then, so easily, so naturally, he rolled on top of you.

The weight of him pressed you into the mattress, slow and intentional, his knee sliding between your legs like it belonged there.

A breath. His lips ghosted over your cheek, not quite kissing you, but close enough to make your heart stutter.

Then, finally—

“I know,” he murmured against your skin.

And then he kissed you.

Xavier kissed you like he had been waiting—starving for this, for you. There was no hesitation, no testing the waters—just the sheer weight of his mouth pressing against yours, his body crowding into your space until there was nowhere left to run.

You gasped against him, and he took full advantage, slipping his tongue between your lips, deepening the kiss with a precision that made your head spin.

His knee pressed higher between your legs, parting them further, and the friction—God, the friction—made a pathetic little sound slip from your throat.

That sound?

It broke him.

Xavier growled, low and rough, and then his hands were on you—gripping your waist, your thighs, fingertips digging into your skin like he was holding himself back from something even worse.

He wasn’t just kissing you—he was devouring you.

“This what you wanted?” he murmured against your lips, voice thick, wrecked. His teeth scraped your bottom lip, teasing, before he soothed the sting with his tongue. “This why you kept shifting closer?”

Your brain barely functioned enough to register the question, let alone form a response.

You nodded—probably too eagerly—and he chuckled, dark and knowing.

“Thought so,” he muttered, dragging his mouth down your jaw, your throat, tongue flicking over the rapid pulse there.

Then, without warning—his hand slid under your shirt.

You gasped, body arching instinctively as his fingers dragged up your stomach, slow and teasing. He didn’t rush—he took his time, like he was mapping you out, learning every inch of you by touch alone.

You squirmed, half-desperate, half-mortified by how easily he had you falling apart beneath him. “Xavier—”

“Mm.” His lips brushed the shell of your ear. “Still cold?”

The bastard.

You barely had time to scowl before his fingers hooked into the waistband of your shorts, tugging just enough to make your breath hitch.

“You should’ve said something sooner,” he murmured, his voice silk and sin. “I’d have warmed you up already.”

Then his fingers dipped lower.

Your body jerked—a strangled sound leaving your throat—and Xavier just smirked against your skin, all sharp teeth and wicked satisfaction.

Xavier’s fingers traced the edge of your waistband, deliberate, teasing, a slow drag of knuckles against your hip that made your breath stutter. His body was still pressed against you, the heat of him seeping into your skin, his knee still nestled between your thighs, keeping them parted just enough to be maddening.

His lips brushed against your jaw, trailing lower, slow, like he was savoring every second of this.

“You’re already shaking,” he murmured, voice thick with amusement, with something darker. His teeth scraped lightly over your pulse point. “Barely even touched you yet.”

You wanted to snap back, say something, but the second his fingers slid beneath your shorts, all coherent thought vanished.

You gasped—your hips jerking instinctively—and Xavier made a quiet, satisfied noise, his breath hot against your throat.

“There it is,” he murmured, almost like he’d been waiting for that reaction. His fingers skimmed lower, brushing just barely where you needed them, teasing, testing, not nearly enough.

You squirmed, fingers fisting the fabric of his shirt, trying to get more, trying to—

“Ah.” His voice was soft but firm, a warning wrapped in silk. His free hand caught your wrist, pinning it against the mattress. “Stay still.”

You whimpered, half-frustrated, half-desperate, and that did something to him—you felt it in the way his body tensed, in the sharp exhale through his nose, in the way his grip on your thigh tightened.

Then, very slowly, he dragged his lips back up to your ear, his fingers finally slipping between your thighs, barely parting you.

“Good girl,” he whispered.

You whined.

Xavier chuckled—low, dark, pleased—before he sank his fingers into you.

Your back arched hard, a strangled moan ripping from your throat, and he groaned at the feeling of you around him, hot and wet and clenching around his fingers.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his control cracking at the edges. “You’re soaking.”

You couldn’t even respond, couldn’t think, not when he curled his fingers just right—pressing against that spot that made your entire body tremble.

“Sensitive, too,” he mused, voice rough, wrecked. His mouth was back on your throat, biting, soothing, ruining you. “Poor thing.”

His pace was slow at first, deliberate, making sure you felt every movement, every deep press of his fingers, every subtle shift of his wrist.

Then he picked up the pace.

And you—you came apart.

Your breath hitched, your nails digging into his arm, your body tightening around him as the pleasure spiked—a helpless, broken moan escaping your lips.

Xavier cursed softly, his hand tightening on your hip, keeping you right there, right on the edge.

“Come on,” he murmured, a dangerous promise in his voice. “Let me feel it.”

That was all it took.

The pleasure hit—white-hot, all-consuming, tearing through you like a live wire. Your body arched, thighs trembling, breath shattered as you tumbled over the edge.

Xavier groaned, feeling you clench around his fingers, riding it out, his lips pressed against your jaw, his breath ragged.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was your heavy breathing, the faint hum of the heater, the storm still raging outside.

Then, finally, Xavier slowly withdrew his fingers.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he lifted them to his lips—watching you, watching your reaction—as he slipped them into his mouth.

Your stomach flipped.

He groaned softly, eyes dark, heat pooling behind them. “Sweet,” he murmured, almost to himself.

Your brain short-circuited.

He smirked, then leaned down, his mouth brushing against your ear as he whispered—

“You’re still cold, aren’t you?”

A pause.

Then—

“I should fix that.”

Your body was still trembling, heat coiling low in your stomach, your breath uneven from the aftermath of what Xavier had just done to you. But as he hovered over you, smirking like he’d won, you decided—

No.

If he thought he was the only one who could play this game, he was wrong.

Your fingers, still unsteady but determined, trailed down his chest, skimming over the hard lines of muscle beneath his shirt. Xavier’s smirk faltered just slightly, his sharp eyes flicking to yours, curiosity flashing behind them.

“Oh?” he murmured, voice all velvety amusement. “Feeling bold?”

You didn’t answer. You just pushed.

A sharp shove against his chest, enough to catch him off guard, enough to tip the balance—he let you roll him onto his back, his broad frame sinking into the mattress beneath you.

Xavier blinked up at you, surprise flickering across his face for half a second before it was replaced by something hungrier.

He let you do this.

He wanted you to do this.

And now that you were here? Oh, you were going to make him pay.

You straddled his hips, palms splaying over his chest, feeling the steady, controlled rise and fall of his breathing. His pupils were blown wide, his lips slightly parted—but his hands? His hands stayed right where they were, resting at his sides, like he was waiting to see what you’d do.

You smirked.

“Oh,” you murmured, dragging your nails lightly down his stomach, “I’m just returning the favor.”

His breath hitched. Barely. But you felt it.

Your fingers slipped lower, tracing the waistband of his sleep pants, feeling the sharp inhale he took as you brushed against the very obvious problem he was dealing with.

Xavier’s jaw tightened, but he still didn’t move.

So you did.

Slow, deliberate—you reached inside, wrapping your fingers around him, feeling just how thick and hot he was, how he twitched under your touch.

That was the first time you heard it—

A ragged breath.

Not controlled. Not calculated.

Just raw need.

“Fuck.” His voice was low, strained, his head tipping back against the pillow as his fingers finally clenched in the sheets.

You grinned, feeling intoxicatingly powerful.

“You are warm,” you mused, stroking him, watching the way his muscles tensed beneath you.

Xavier groaned, hips jerking slightly, his grip on the sheets tightening like he was actively fighting the urge to take control back.

“I can’t tell if you’re teasing me,” he muttered, voice wrecked, “or if you actually don’t know what you’re doing.”

Your fingers squeezed just a little harder.

His breath stuttered.

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” you whispered.

Then, before he could form a response, you leaned down, dragging your lips over his throat, biting, your hand still working him in slow, torturous strokes.

And that?

That broke him.

Xavier snapped.

His hands moved—gripping your hips, grinding you down against him, making you feel how hard he was, how much he needed this.

His lips ghosted over your ear, his voice low, wrecked, but dangerous.

“You want to play this game?” he rasped. “Fine.”

Then he flipped you again, pinning you hard against the mattress.

“Let’s see if you can handle what happens next.”

Xavier’s grip on your hips was tight, bordering on bruising as he pinned you beneath him, his body pressing into yours, heavy and hot. His breath was ragged, his pupils dark and hungry, and you could feel the exact moment his restraint snapped.

“You wanted to tease?” he muttered, his voice thick, dangerous, pressing his knee between your thighs. “You wanted to test me?”

You swallowed hard, but before you could even think of an answer, Xavier shoved your shorts down, ripping them off like they were nothing, like he had zero patience left.

“Xavier—” You gasped, your breath hitching as the cold air kissed your now-exposed skin—

But then—

Then he slammed into you.

Your back arched off the mattress, a strangled, broken moan escaping your lips as he buried himself deep, stretching you open, filling you.

“Oh, fuck—”

Xavier groaned, his head tipping back for half a second, like he was reveling in the way you clenched around him, your body squeezing him so tight he could barely move.

Then his gaze snapped back to yours, sharp and wrecked.

“You can take it,” he muttered, voice low, wrecked, a promise more than a reassurance. His hands slid under your thighs, lifting you slightly, angling you just right before—

He thrust.

Hard.

The bed slammed against the wall with a crack.

You screamed, nails digging into his back as the force of it sent you rocking into the mattress, your brain going completely blank from the sheer intensity.

Xavier didn’t let up.

He set a brutal pace—deep, relentless, every snap of his hips sending the headboard smashing into the wall, rattling the entire bed frame like it was barely holding together.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he growled against your ear, his breath hot, his voice raw. “Look at you—” Another hard thrust. Another wrecked, helpless moan from you. “—taking me so well.”

You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

He had you pinned, your legs wrapped around his waist, your fingers tangled in his hair, your body shaking beneath him as he fucked you like he owned you.

The headboard cracked again, the frame creaking under the force, but Xavier didn’t care—he just kept pounding into you, chasing something deeper, something desperate.

“You feel fucking perfect,” he groaned, pressing his forehead against yours, his teeth gritted as he slammed into you again, harder, faster.

The bed frame snapped.

One of the legs gave out with a violent crack, the entire mattress tilting, sending you both crashing deeper into the ruined frame—

But Xavier didn’t stop.

If anything, it made him worse.

A feral sound tore from his throat, his grip on your hips tightening, his pace turning almost brutal as he wrecked you, fucked you into the now-broken bed like nothing else in the world existed except the feeling of you wrapped around him.

“You wanted this,” he rasped, biting at your jaw, your throat, dragging his teeth over your skin. “Didn’t you?”

You sobbed out something that was probably supposed to be a yes, but it came out as nothing but a guttural moan.

Xavier chuckled darkly, dragging his fingers between your bodies, finding your clit—

And that broke you.

Your entire body locked up, your breath catching, the pleasure slamming into you like a fucking tidal wave—

You came hard, a choked cry escaping your lips as you clenched around him, body trembling, legs tightening around his waist.

Xavier groaned, his rhythm faltering, his fingers digging into your skin as he buried himself deep one final time, his body shuddering as he came with a low, wrecked growl against your throat.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was your ragged breathing, the faint hum of the heater, the creak of the ruined bed beneath you both.

Then—

“Fuck.” Xavier exhaled sharply, forehead pressing against your shoulder as his body relaxed, chest rising and falling with the aftershocks.

You stared at the ceiling, completely spent, still buzzing from the intensity of it all.

After a long pause—

“You broke the bed,” you muttered breathlessly.

Xavier let out a short, breathless laugh against your skin, his body still heavy on top of you. “Technically,” he murmured, voice still low, satisfied, “we broke it together.”

You snorted, too exhausted to argue.

“Yeah, yeah,” you murmured, still trying to catch your breath. “So, uh… what do we tell the front desk?”

Xavier smirked against your shoulder.

“That we need another bed.”

A pause.

Then, a wicked, dangerous glint in his eye—

“But I’ll just break that one too.”

<hr>

The room was wrecked.

The bed? Ruined. One of the legs had completely given out, the frame split, the mattress slumped at a questionable angle.

You were boneless, sprawled beneath Xavier, your body still thrumming from the absolute destruction he had just delivered. Your legs refused to function. Your lungs still hadn’t caught up.

But your brain?

Your brain had questions.

Like, for example, what the fuck just happened.

Xavier was still on you, his body warm, heavy in a way that wasn’t suffocating—just grounding. His breath was steady now, though his fingers were still absently tracing patterns into your skin, like he needed the tactile reminder that you were there.

And honestly? You liked it.

You let the silence linger for a moment, basking in the quiet hum of the heater, the faint flicker of snowfall outside the window. Then, finally, you swallowed, your voice hoarse, exhausted.

“So,” you murmured, shifting slightly beneath him, “where the hell did that come from?”

Xavier huffed a quiet laugh against your skin, but he didn’t move, his face still half-buried in the crook of your neck.

“You really don’t know?” His voice was lower now, quieter. Softer.

You blinked, tilting your head slightly to try and get a look at him. “I mean—no?”

Another beat of silence. Then, with an almost reluctant exhale, he lifted his head just enough to look at you, his sharp gaze now hazy, warm, fond.

“Because it’s you,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Your breath caught.

Xavier didn’t look away.

“I’ve wanted this,” he admitted, voice quieter now, more vulnerable. His fingers traced slow, lazy circles over your ribs, his body still partially pressed against yours. “For longer than I should.”

Your heart stumbled over itself.

“Xavier—”

“You think I don’t notice?” He exhaled sharply, his thumb brushing over the curve of your hip. “The way you look at me? The way I look at you?” His voice dipped lower, his lips ghosting just barely over yours. “You think I don’t feel it every time we get too close?”

You swallowed hard. You knew what he meant. The tension had always been there, unspoken, buried beneath layers of professionalism, logic, denial.

You just hadn’t expected him to be the one to admit it first.

Xavier gave you a look, like he could see the gears turning in your head, and sighed, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

You let out a breathless laugh, overwhelmed, dizzy. “I’m ridiculous? You’re the one who broke a bed over this.”

His lips twitched—not quite a smile, but close.

“I did warn you.”

“You did not warn me.”

“Mm.” His fingers trailed up your side, light and soothing now, as if trying to calm the lingering tremors in your muscles. “Maybe not verbally.”

You groaned, letting your head fall back against the ruined mattress. “Unbelievable.”

Xavier smirked, then, without a word, rolled off of you, pulling you effortlessly with him so that you were half-sprawled over his chest instead of lying in the wreckage of the broken bed frame.

The shift was jarring—one minute, your body was still thrumming from being absolutely wrecked, and the next, you were being held.

And gently, at that.

It sent a different kind of warmth through your chest, slower, softer.

“…You okay?” he murmured, the rough edge of his voice smoothing into something almost tender.

You blinked, caught off guard by the question—by the quiet concern in it.

“Yeah,” you admitted, your voice softer now. “Just… processing.”

His arm tightened around you slightly, fingers dragging over the bare skin of your back in slow, absent motions. “Mm.”

Silence settled between you again, but this time, it was comfortable. Warm.

You shifted slightly, turning your head toward the window, where the snow was still falling outside, thick and slow under the golden glow of the streetlights.

Xavier followed your gaze, exhaling softly.

“…Storm’s still going,” he murmured.

You sighed. “Guess that means we’re still stuck here.”

A pause.

Then, very dryly—

“We should probably request another bed.”

You snorted, pressing your face into his chest to smother your laughter. “Yeah,” you muttered, muffled. “Probably.”

Xavier was quiet for a moment, his fingers still absently tracing over your spine. Then, his voice dipped lower—

“But I’m not sleeping in it.”

You froze.

Slowly, you lifted your head to look at him, your stomach flipping. “Oh?”

Xavier’s gaze was dark again, but not with hunger this time—something else, something warmer, something dangerous in an entirely different way.

“Mm.” His fingers tightened on your waist, pulling you just a fraction closer. “Now that I have you here?” His lips brushed against your forehead, light, teasing. “You’re not sleeping anywhere else.”

Your breath caught.

“…Bossy,” you muttered, feeling your face heat up.

He hummed, his smirk pressing against your temple. “You like it.”

You rolled your eyes, but didn’t argue.

Instead, you settled against him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest, the quiet hum of warmth between you.

Outside, the snow continued to fall.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt completely, perfectly warm.

[yuvany]

PAINT ME LIKE MONA LISA

𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍 with an artist!reader

OT7 ENHYPEN x fem!reader . . . CONTENT / WARNING(S) : fluff + est relationship + not proofread . . WORD COUNT : 812 . CHECK MARK !!

( REBLOGS + FEEDBACK APPRECIATED !! )

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

"Hee, don't move." You suddenly warn, your pencil balancing in between your fingers as you hold your palm up. "Please don't tell me a bomb is gonna detonate, babe." he jokes, and you chuckle, the sound of your pencil stratching the paper fills the room. "Are you drawing something?" He asks, and you hum. "Yup, wanna take a guess what i'm drawing?" You try to do this quickly while Heeseung is standing as still as he can. "Not sure. Care to tell me, pretty girl?" Heeseung itches his nose quickly, which goes unnoticed by you. "Obviously Mr.Handsome is my muse today."

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

Saw you placing a bowl of fruit on the table, adjusting it and looking at it from all angles. Jay starts getting interested in what you're doing, so he gets closer to you from his hiding spot behind a corner. You hum delighted and return to your seat, but see Jay standing there. "Hello?" You ask with a chuckle. "Hey, sweetness. What's going on here?" Jay asked. "Nothing much, just an art project for school, they want us to do realism." You go on and explain the assignment. "So, like in the movies?" He asks, referring to how most movies use a bowl of fruits. You nod your head, and Jay gives you a kiss on the cheek for good luck.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

Jake walks into your room and sees the painting resting on the floor, the paint still looking moist. It's like the canvas is whispering for him to come closer, because he does, his eyes observing each detail. Without noticing, Jake's finger gets closer to the canvas, brushing against the edge softly. "Aye! Don't touch!" You exclaimed upon entering your room and seeing him hunched on the floor. "sorry babe, but this is absolutely gorgous!" He says, a wide smile presenting itself on his lips. "Thank you, but you gotta be careful, babe." You laugh awkwardly, hunching down beside him to admire your art with him.

𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙆 𝙎𝙐𝙉𝙂𝙃𝙊𝙊𝙉

He sees you pull out a sketch book and a pen, his eyes glued to the movement of your wrist. "Are you drawing me?" He asks with a smirk as he poses jokingly. "You wish." You chuckle and turn the block around so that he can get a view of it. Sunghoon takes a while to look over the rough sketch, and you start to wonder if he's actually observing it, or just zoning-out. You raise and eyebrow, and he says, "You know, I am a much better view than a simple window." He glides his arm around your waist and pulls you in. "I'm sure you are." You say, pressing you lips to the corner of his mouth.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢

You and him went to an art museum, his hands holding yours while you take your time to watch each exhibition before either taking a picture, which Sunoo knoows you'll use later as reference, or pulling out a small piece of paper form your bag and a pencil as you sketch the art while explaining the history behind the artworks. "That's really interesting." He says, and follows you around while you repeat the pattern of taking a photo, sketching and explaining. "Imagine if they one day put up your art, angel." he says in awe, and you reply, "then I'll tell them that the history of it is my love for you."

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

He sees you curled up in bed with your art block on the bed as you sketch on it lazily while laying down, waiting for inspiration to flow into your head. Jungwon sees you through the door when he walks by, and walks back to make sure of what he saw. Naturally he walks in, catching your attention. You hum at the sight of him and he plops onto the floor after grabbing a pencil from your desk causing yiu to stop drawing and look at him confused. So far, you've only drawn sunflowers and fishes very sloppily. Jungwon sees them and tries to copy the best he could, but let's just say he did his best. "That's a cute one." You giggle, seeing his attempt.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

Your first date with him was an artistic and creative one. He took you to an art cafe and challanged you to a paiting conset, but he underestimated you and drew a nice sunset instead, confident that he'd win the bet easily. "Times up!" He says with a smirk, and you smile brightly and let go off the brush. "Do you wanna go first?" You ask, and Riki shrugs. "Alright, but be prepared to be blown away." You clap the sight of his scenery, and he urges you to show yours. As you turn the canvas to him, his jaw drops and you chuckle. "So what do I win?" you ask after he was done gaping. "How about a kiss?" He asks, and delivers.

[delilahsturniolo]

— ♡ pov . . . m.s

in which . . . matt wishes you could see yourself from his pov

warnings . . . angst, insecurity, crying, comforting, fluff.

written by @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or modify my works. if you are taking any inspiration from this, please ask me first before posting and credit me in your description. happy reading! :)

POSITIONS WRITING MARATHON . . . fic #14

matt sees you differently than you see yourself. and sometimes, that scares you more than anything. he’s lying beside you now, one arm tucked under his head, the other lazily tracing patterns over the bare skin of your back. the sheets are soft, tangled around your legs, and the room is dim, quiet except for the hum of his breath and your heartbeat, still a little too fast.

you’re curled into him, face buried in his chest, trying to calm the swirl of thoughts in your head.“you’re doing that thing again,” he murmurs softly, brushing your hair back. “what thing?” you ask, muffled against his skin. “thinking too hard. overanalyzing. disappearing into your own head.”you go still for a second. then shrug. “i just… i don’t get it.” his fingers pause on your spine. “get what?”

“how you look at me like that. like i’m…” you swallow. “everything.” he doesn’t answer right away. and when he does, his voice is low and full of something heavy. “because you are, what do you mean honey?” you pull back slightly to look at him. he’s already watching you. eyes soft, sleepy, honest. “matt…”

“you don’t see what i see,” he says quietly. “you never do. but god, if you could just see yourself for one second through my eyes…” his thumb brushes over your cheek, slow and reverent. “you’d never doubt how easy it is to love you.”

your throat tightens. you blink fast, trying to keep the tears from falling, but he sees it anyway. of course he does. “i’m messy,” you whisper. “i’m insecure. i shut down when things get hard. sometimes i don’t even know how to let people love me.”

“and i don’t care,” he says, firm. “i’ll keep showing you how. as many times as it takes.” you stare at him. at his jaw, his mouth, the little mole on his neck. every detail. because somehow, this boy who could have anyone, chose you, and keeps choosing you.

“you really love me like that?” you ask, voice barely audible. he nods. “yeah, always. like i wanna hold every version of you, even the ones you hide. especially the ones you think make you unlovable.” he leans in and kisses your forehead. then your cheek. your jaw. every soft place that’s ever been bruised by doubt.

“you make me want to be better,” he whispers. “you make me feel everything. and i hope, one day, you look in the mirror and see what i see.”your chest aches. but it’s a good ache. the kind that comes with being seen and still held.

so you kiss him, slow, shaky, real, and whisper against his lips, “i love you.” he smiles, hands sliding up your back to pull you closer. “i love you more,” he murmurs. “i couldn’t not even if i tried.”

© delilahsturniolo

💌: blehhhh and another writing marathon finished WOOOOO!!! i worked overtime for you guys, and i’m so so happy and grateful for everyone who stuck around and supported me throughout these 14 days of posting and i’m so glad i inspired others!! i probably won’t do another one for a while…although i already have everything planned out, i can’t say when the next writing marathon will be but most likely within the next few months depending on how busy i am!! for now i’m gonna start working on my au’s more and begin planning shit for my 1 year on tumblr! :) anyway i love you all so so much!! <3

[moonstruckme]

Hi! My inbox is being evil again (it's trying to keep us apart!) and temporarily deleting the exact requests I want to find, so here's a copy+paste of the request I got and thank you so much anon :)

could you do a james x fem!reader where he helps her through a particularly bad panic attack and then just cuddles her and grounds her again? i get them all the time and the thought of the comfort just makes me feel better :,)

cw: modern au, panic attack

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 730 words

James knows it’d be no help to tell you how scared these attacks make him, but they do make him very scared. He imagines it’s not too different from your reasoning right now; he knows, ultimately, that you’ll be alright, but the thought doesn’t provide as much comfort as it should when he’s watching you with your breaths coming quick and short and your nails digging into your own palm like you can hurt yourself worse on the surface that whatever’s doing this to you. 

He starts there. Takes your hand and uncurls your fingers, threading them through his. 

“You’re okay,” he tells you, sitting on the coffee table with his knees touching yours. He shuts the computer on your lap, easing it out of your grip to move it away. “Take a breath, sweetheart.” 

If you can still hear him you show no sign of it. A tear forms in the corner of your eye, falling when you blink. He can feel your heartbeat jumping where the base of his palm rests over your wrist. 

“Can I give you a hug?” 

There, a slight nod. James curls towards you eagerly, if a bit awkwardly, his knees on either side of your thighs and sitting a bit taller than you while he rubs your back. He makes big, sweeping circles, hoping to lull you with the slow pattern. Tears slug down your cheeks in curved lines, his shirt collecting their damp masses. 

“It’ll pass, angel. It always does, yeah? I know it feels like it’s not going to get better, but it will. You’re doing so good. So, so good, my love.” 

Your breath wheezes slightly on the way in, evidence of your diligent efforts, and when it comes out a low, pained sound comes with it. James feels it deep in his throat. He increases his pressure on your back. 

“Is this okay?” he worries, then feels shitty. You’re hardly up for questioning right now. He tries to sound certain. “Focus on my hand, angel. You’re okay, I’ve got you. Take a big breath for me.” 

He feels you try, your little sob when it doesn’t go as deep as either of you want. 

“I can’t—” 

“You can, it’s alright. You’re already doing so much better, see? It’s going away.” 

This one is worse than some of the others James has sat through with you. It seems to take ages for your breathing to slow down, and a while after that until he feels your heart find a somewhat normal rhythm under his palm. 

He knows you’re with him, more present, when you move your legs to give him easier access to you. James adjusts eagerly, giving you a proper hug. Your crying is less stilted now. He never thought he’d be so relieved to hear you sniffle and weep on his shoulder. 

“There you are,” he sighs, holding you tight. “You did it, sweetheart.” 

“James,” you whimper. 

“I know, but you’re okay. Keep breathing nice and deep,” he reminds you, worried another one will start up. “You made it. Now all you have to do is take it easy for a while.” 

“Thank you.” Your voice is a soft, small thing. It encourages James back from you, though only far enough to see your face. One tear hangs from your bottom lashes like a dewdrop from a petal. When he kisses beneath your eye it transfers to his skin. 

“No thanks necessary.” He kisses you on your other cheek, just to make it even. “You did all the hard work yourself.” 

“Still,” you say, a bit wobbly, “thanks.” 

James frowns. He allows himself to stop rubbing that same endless circle on your back, brushes a piece of hair away from your face. “Anytime,” he tells you sincerely. 

The worst of your crying seems over, but the look you give him suggests you might start again. James likes to think of himself as a man unafraid of tears and strong emotions; he’ll let you cry all night if that’s what you need. Still, he’d prefer to avoid it. 

“How do you feel?” he asks quickly. “Do you want some water? We could go for a walk, it might help to be outside.” 

You don’t want to do either of those, but you do consent to another hug. Which, really, is a better outcome than he’d dared to hope for. 

[sinstear]

ㅤ ㅤ❝ 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐥𝐦 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐞 ❞ 

there were so many things abby loved. loved the way you silently sat at your dresser, applying your skincare early in the mornings, when no one else was awake, birds quietly humming and singing a tune you’ve both probably heard so many times that you could sing it in your sleep, and grumbling each time you messed up. she loved, adored, watching you walk in and out the closet, new pieces of clothing in your hands each time, asking her what she thought about every individual piece, and if she loved a shirt more than a pair of jeans, you would simply roll your eyes playfully and threw them at her before once again making your way back into the closet, huffing each time she would laugh at your indecisiveness. abby even loves it when you’re dressed in something a little warmer for the cold weather after spending several minutes looking at each outfit, that you slump yourself beside her on the bed, when she’s still not even up yet, and curl up into her side, threading your fingers through her hair, tucking strands behind her ear that have escaped the small elastic keeping it together, or at least trying to keep it together.

whispering soft i love you’s against her cheek when she tried to bury her face in the crook of your neck constantly, running your fingers up and down her back, drawing random patterns in your wake. waking up, getting ready, and picking an outfit was your normal routine, but instantly lying beside abby the second you were done, waiting for her to wake up, playing with her hair, and kissing her face, was something you always did. it was something you both did together. no matter the mood or time. but abbys all-time favorite thing you do? something that melts her heart into a puddle, even if she’s just woken up? it will always be the way your fingers graze her jaw, brushing your knuckles over her cheek, kissing the apple of her cheeks and gently lifting her face, cupping it carefully between your hands, like precious cargo and littering a kiss on every inch of her skin. giggling against her forehead when she lets out a disgruntled whine when she picks up on you missing her mouth completely and not giving in to her that quickly. “you’re so cute,” you grinned, pulling away from her forehead, copying her pout and roll your eyes playfully. “you’re so needy in the mornings, what do you want?” 

“a kiss. my kiss” abby grumbled, making no effort to pull her face away.

“you forgot some words in there” you trailed off, kissing the tip of her nose.

“give me my kiss now?” blue eyes quick to meet yours the second the question left her mouth. “please?” she added seconds later when seeing your scowl.

her eyes fluttered closed when you brushed your thumb across her cheek, pulled her face closer to your own, and pressed the softest kiss against her lips. a kiss that she melted more into as one of her hands found your waist, and the other found the back of your head. soft huffed breaths and hums fell from the blonde when your teeth nipped and nibbled at her bottom lip carefully. “you’re lucky i love you so much” you muttered into her lips, smiling at the action of her pushing flyaway hairs out your face. “and that you’re so adorable”

“m’not adorable” abby huffed, slumping her forehead against yours. “i love you”

“yes you are, my adorable handsome girlfriend” you nodded, planting a final kiss on her lips. one that she would have loved to continue if you didn’t slap her knee gently, pulling out her trance. “now as much as i love you, m’not waiting another 4 hours for you to get out of bed, come on, you promised me breakfast!”

“patience woman” she grumbled under her breath, pushing a pillow into your face.

“what was that?”

“i love you, love of my life!” abby yelled, already jumping off the bed and rushing off into the bathroom. 

“crazy girl” you couldn’t help but laugh. “i’ll make us something to drink before we leave!”

“m’kay, just make sure you don’t steal the chocolate! that was for our movie marathon tonight” the blonde called out behind the bathroom door. the words had you snapping your head around quickly. 

“what?!”

“do not steal it!”

“you evil woman”

“you love me”

“i really do”

[dearlenore]

BAMBI. / S.REID / SUMMARY - Spencer meets a young criminal law student

PAIRING: allison!grey x spencer reid / w/c: 2.0K / fluff

a/n: I wanna make this a series so bad, also credit to @cheriesbucky for inspiring me to share my oc!!<3 not proofread I fear…

The moment Spencer Reid stepped onto the Princeton campus, a familiar chill ran through him—not from the weather, though early April still bit through his coat—but from memory. These kinds of places never changed. The stone buildings. The tightly-trimmed lawns. The buzz of students too smart for their own good and not nearly as smart as they’d one day believe.

He wasn’t sure why he said yes when Rossi asked him to come along. It wasn’t like his presence was necessary—David Rossi could give a criminology seminar in his sleep, probably had before. But when the invitation came from the university, and Rossi offered a guest seat beside him on the panel, Spencer heard himself agree before he could figure out why.

Maybe it was nostalgia. Or maybe it was the ache—something deep and slow that settled in his chest more often these days, like a ghost of something he couldn’t name.

The lecture hall was warm, filled with the scent of dusty books, coffee cups, and a kind of hunger that only academic places carried. Spencer followed Rossi inside and took the side seat near the stage, where he could fade into the background. His eyes flicked around, scanning students who leaned over notebooks and laptops, whispering to one another in anticipation. Most didn’t recognize him. A few stared a moment too long, perhaps uncertain where they’d seen his face before.

Then he saw her.

Front row, dead center. Small. Maybe five-foot-five. Pale blue cardigan slipping off one shoulder, an open notebook resting delicately on her lap, even though she hadn’t written a single word yet. She was staring at Rossi like he was reading a poem. Not with infatuation—no—but fascination. Her eyes were wide, lit from inside with something he couldn’t place.

Curiosity. Eagerness. Maybe both.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and bit her pen in thought. The motion was small, almost automatic. And yet, it stuck in Spencer’s mind longer than it should have.

He forced himself to look away.

Rossi launched into his introduction, commanding the room with the ease of a seasoned profiler. “Who here knows the difference between an M.O. and a signature?” he asked.

A few hands shot up, and then—hers.

Spencer watched her from the corner of his vision. Noticed the way she hesitated for a second before raising her hand all the way, like she wasn’t sure if she had the right to speak.

“You,” Rossi called.

Her voice was soft. Musical. “M.O. is the method an offender uses to commit the crime—practical things. Signature is the psychological need they fulfill through specific acts. It’s not necessary to commit the crime, but it satisfies something deeper.”

Rossi nodded, clearly (at least mildly) impressed. “Textbook answer.”

Spencer found himself leaning forward.

Later, after the seminar ended and students began packing up their bags, she lingered. Most of the audience swarmed Rossi, shoving copies of his books at him for autographs or asking questions they could’ve Googled. But she stood a few feet away, notebook in hand, staring at the crowd intensely, as if deep in thought.

He should’ve left it alone.

But something about her kept pulling at him—an invisible string he couldn’t stop tugging.

“You asked a question earlier,” he said, calling out to her with his hands tucked into his coat pockets. “About signature behavior.”

She blinked up at him, startled at first, then visibly relaxing. “I did.” Her eyes flicked across his face. “You’re Dr. Reid, right?”

He nodded. “That’s me.”

“I’ve read a few of your papers,” she admitted, cheeks flushing pink as she smiled. “Especially the one on spatial-temporal patterning and ritualistic homicides. It’s… a little terrifying….But brilliant of course! Really brilliant!”

The panicked praise made something flutter in his chest, a reaction he didn’t quite expect. “Thank you. Most people don’t make it past the abstract.”

“I liked your footnotes,” she said, laughing a bit. “They read like side conversations. Almost like you’re thinking out loud.”

He smiled back before he realized he was doing it. “That’s… probably because I was.”

She laughed again—a small, bright sound that curled around his ribs and stayed there, placing itself as if he’d been missing it all along.

“I’m Allison,” she said.

“Allison,” he repeated. Her name fit her. Gentle. Old-fashioned in a soft way. “Are you majoring in criminology?”

“Psych and criminal justice,” she said. “Double major. I want to work with children who’ve experienced trauma. Maybe help them testify in court…. Or maybe just help them survive it. I’m only human.”

That stopped him for a moment.

So young. She couldn’t have been older than twenty-three or twenty-four. And yet, her voice didn’t waver when she said it. She meant every word. She’d sounded like him at that age.

“That’s… admirable,” he said, quieter now. “And difficult.”

“I know.” She laughed awkwardly again. “But I’ve seen what happens when no one helps them.” Allison flashed a small awkward tight lipped smile.

Spencer studied her. She didn’t elaborate, and he didn’t ask.

“I’m surprised you’re not one of Rossi’s groupies,” he offered lightly.

She shook her head. “He’s brilliant, but a little… intimidating. You’re a lot less scary and official looking… plus you’re not selling yourself so I just assumed I could relate to you more than him.”

Spencer laughed. “You’d be surprised. I’m just bad at it.”

She tilted her head. “I think that’s why I like your writing. You don’t try to convince anyone—you just share what you know. Like a polite invitation into your brain.”

He didn’t know what to say to that.

There was a pause—brief, but thick. Students filtered out around them, filing toward the doors, laughing and shouting about midterms. But Spencer stood still. And so did she.

“I’m headed to the arts building,” she said, finally breaking the quiet. “They’re holding a mini recital in the quad. I’m playing violin with some of the kids from the local elementary school. It’s kind of chaotic, but… cute.”

He almost said goodbye.

Almost.

But instead—“Do you mind if I come?”

She blinked. “You want to?”

“I like violin.”

That made her smile again. Something sparkled in her eyes. “Sure. But only if you’re okay with tambourines and maracas interrupting every other note.”

“I’ve worked crime scenes next to train tracks and screaming neighbors,” he said. “I think I’ll manage.”

After Spencer had excused himself, they walked side by side through campus. The wind tugged at her cardigan again, and she didn’t bother fixing it. Her hair blew into her face, and when she laughed, it was as if the whole quad leaned in to listen.

They didn’t talk much as they walked across the quad.

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it felt easy—like they’d done this before in some other life. Spencer glanced at her from time to time, watching how she tucked loose hair behind her ears, how her fingers curled tightly around the strap of her violin case. She was nervous, maybe. But not because of him.

“Do you perform often?” he asked, his voice breaking the hush of spring wind.

“Only for things like this,” she replied. “The kids are part of a music therapy program downtown. Some are neurodivergent, some have anxiety, and a few are dealing with grief. Music helps….Even if it’s messy and loud.” Allison chuckled to herself, a small smile playing at her lips.

Spencer nodded. “There’s research to support that. Auditory rhythm can activate the limbic system and regulate emotional response.”

She glanced up at him, smiling. “You’d love our practice room. Pure chaos.” Allison made a cut air motion. “But their smiles make it worth it.”

When they reached the grass clearing near the art building, there were folding chairs set up in uneven rows, half-filled with local parents and students bundled against the breeze. Children buzzed around like bumblebees, laughing and crashing tambourines together, each sound a wild burst of joy.

Spencer hesitated at the edge of the group. His coat felt too formal, his shoes too polished. He never quite knew how to be casual, especially around people who moved so easily through the world.

“Want to sit?” she asked, gesturing toward an empty bench near the front.

“I’ll watch from here,” he said. “Better view.”

Allison gave him a quick smile, then moved to join the kids. One little boy immediately wrapped his arms around her waist, and she bent to hug him, laughing softly as he clung. Another girl handed her a bright red plastic maraca.

“She’s gonna play the pretty song again,” the girl told her.

“Only if you help me with rhythm,” Allison replied, crouching down to their level.

Spencer watched, unable to look away.

The violin came out of its case like something sacred. She tuned it quickly—gently—before resting it on her shoulder. The first note drifted out into the air like breath, soft and golden. Not perfect, not polished. But real.

The children chimed in soon after, their percussion wild and unsynchronized, but she never corrected them. She let them play. She let them be. And somehow, the mismatched rhythm and sharp off-beat clapping wove itself into something whole. Something alive.

Spencer sat still, arms folded, heart unexpectedly full.

She was luminous like this—wrapped in music, surrounded by joy, completely unaware of how radiant she looked. Not in an untouchable way, but in a quiet, reverent one. Like she was full of light and trying desperately not to spill it.

After a few songs—mostly lullabies and one wobbly rendition of You Are My Sunshine—the concert ended. The crowd clapped. The kids laughed. And Allison bowed deeply with exaggerated flair that made all the children giggle.

Spencer stood when she approached, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright from the cold.

“I warned you it’d be chaotic,” she said.

“It was,” he agreed. “But it was… good. Really good.”

She beamed at him, tucking the violin back in its case. “They’ve been practicing for weeks. I’m glad they didn’t freeze up.”

“You’re really good with them,” he said, watching the last few kids run back toward their parents.

“I just try to listen.” She shrugged. “Most of them don’t get that very often.”

They fell quiet again, the kind of silence that meant more than words. The sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting golden light across the quad. Allison stood there with her case at her side, the wind catching the edge of her cardigan again.

Spencer wanted to tell her she reminded him of spring. The kind of person who made things grow. But it felt too much, too soon, and he didn’t know how to say it without sounding foolish.

Instead, he asked, “Would you want to get coffee sometime?”

She blinked, looking surprised—but not displeased.

“With you?”

“With…me I’d hope,” he confirmed, nerves curling around his ribs. “If you want.”

Her smile was soft and slow. “I’d like that.”

They exchanged numbers awkwardly—Allison fumbling with her phone, Spencer typing with the kind of caution he usually reserved for crime scene reports. Then she glanced at the time and winced.

“I promised I’d help clean up the art room,” she said. “But… thank you. For coming.” She made an awkward gesture before hitting her fist into her palm and swaying nervously.

“I’m glad I did,” he said truthfully.

And he meant it.

Because even as he walked away—coat buttoned against the evening chill, the sounds of laughter still echoing behind him—Spencer knew something had shifted. Maybe it was the way she played. Maybe the way she listened.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was the way he felt a little warmer now.

Like she’d lit something in him he didn’t know was still capable of catching fire.

[bittertasteofhoney]

Good Day Sunshine | Ch. 10

Fight a Little Harder

Summary: Roberta attempts to pull you out of your Joel-induced coma with a trip to the Tipsy Bison.

|| angst, jackson!joel, jackson!joel x f!reader, age gap (but legal!), reader is afab, physical violence, graphic language||

Notes: Oh boy did I make some peeps upset on my last update…so to continue to say I’m so sorry and grovel at your feet (like Joel really should), here is a super quick update! Thank you for sticking with this fic and showing support even though it is frustrating atm! I promise, more smut, banter and tension is coming your way lovelies.

(Also def still need to edit this so please ignore any typos or weird edits!)

The characters, names and characterizations belong to HBO Max and The Last of Us franchise. This work is my creative property and aside from re-blogs and shares, I do not give permission to share or copy my work without permission or consent.

Previous Chapter.

For days, you walked in a daze. You couldn’t get his empty words out of your mind. You knew he was lying to you, but whatever lie he was telling himself won out in the end.

You did the bare minimum - went to work and home. You didn’t stop by the mess hall or volunteer to deliver rations or welcome packs. The only people that really saw you were your coworkers. You were a shell and you kicked yourself daily for letting Joel make you feel this way.

Anger now filled your evenings. Where did he get off deciding when your age difference was a problem? He seemed just fine when he was buried between your legs and when you spent every single night together. He was happy. You saw it in his eyes. So why the hell did he do this?

You knew he had to have heard something around town, but the obstacle that kept you in a roadblock was why he didn’t just come to you about it? Of course, you were bothered by the careless things people were saying but every night that he walked through your door and made you smile proved them wrong.

But now? Was it all true? Your inner demons were fighting each other for dominance, and it was leaving your mind in a fractured place.

After the fifth or sixth day watching you slumped over that week’s produce almost mute, Roberta finally lost all her patience. You were wrestling with a turnip plant when her shadow covered you.

“You’re really pissing me off.” You looked up at her in confusion, adjusting your hat to meet her eye. She was backlit by the midday sun, but even you could see the disappointed look on her face and those green eyes narrowed at you.

You shook your head in confusion as a response so she continued. “Don’t get me wrong. I want to wring Joel’s neck, but I’m also mad at you for letting a guy affect you like this. He isn’t worth all this moping if he was stupid enough to let you go.”

You sat back on your heels and released a deep sigh. “Trust me, I know. I hate who I’ve become but…what happened between us hurt, and I’m not ashamed to say my ego is bruised and I’m hurt and confused and…” Your voice caught and you took another intake of oxygen to steady yourself. “I don’t know. I guess I thought we were something special.”

She just stared at you, letting you speak. “And it just came out of nowhere. I know people were talking-”

“Fuck those morons.” A clipped laugh escaped your lips at her interjection.

“They didn’t know the whole story. I can see how it looked to the outside, but that night when everything changed. God, Roberta. I’ve never felt like that. It was…”

She held up a hand with a disgusted look on her face. “I really don't need the details. He made you happy. I got it. But he’s still an asshole for doing this. I don’t care about his reasoning.”

You nodded and dug a finger into the dirt, tracing a pattern.

“So, the only natural thing we can do to get you out of this funk? We gotta get you drunk, my friend. Andy is watching the kids tonight so I’m intending on drinking until I can’t feel my feet. ” Another laugh escaped you. “Your ass better be at the Tipsy Bison tonight at eight or so help me, I will drag you all the way to the bar top.”

She stomped away but for the first time in days, a small smile ghosted your lips.

Once eight rolled around, you already had a tumbler of whiskey in your hand and a gaggle of coworkers surrounding you in the warm-lit bar. You distractedly swirled the liquid in your glass when you felt a nudge and looked up to Roberta frowning at you. You flashed her a smile to appease her and spun around on your chair to motion to Tommy who was working the bar that night.

The second he caught your eye, he bounded over and gave you a wink. “How’s my favorite ray of sunshine doin’?”

You shrugged and swallowed what remained in your glass, sliding it his way. He grabbed a bottle from behind him and topped it off. “Just peachy. Thanks for asking.”

He leaned on the waxed wooden counter and you tentatively met his gaze. He looked at you for a long moment before simply saying, “He’s a goddamn idiot for hurtin’ the both of you.”

You barely had a chance to react or ask him more about what he meant when a rowdy group entered the bar. You took a healthy swallow of your refreshed glass when a whistle rang out across the crowded space.

“Sunshine! Just the girl I’ve been waiting to see.” Confused, you spun back around and wished you could take the action back when you met the searching eye of Roddy.

Roberta immediately grabbed your arm to move you away when you patted it to tell her you were fine. At least for now.

You felt Tommy stiffen behind you. He was the first to speak. “Roddy, you ain’t supposed to be in here and I suggest you turn your ass around before openin’ that big mouth of yours.”

Roddy threw his hands up, smirking to himself. “I mean no harm, Tommy. I promise. I just had a question I wanted to ask her.” You moved to stand, and he took a step toward you. Roberta shot him a murderous glance and he just laughed. “Why didn’t you tell me I had to basically be an octogenarian to even interest you? I didn’t realize soft dicks were your thing.”

You looked at your shoes, feeling your cheeks heat. Joel maybe wasn’t your favorite person at the moment, but his dick sure wasn’t soft.

The entire bar was watching your exchange. You felt Roberta’s hand on your shoulder.

“Roddy, get the fuck out of here. Nobody asked for your bullshit.”

Once again, Roddy pushed forward and Tommy hopped over the bar to put himself between the two of you. “You better not fuckin’ touch her.”

The asshole just kept laughing with his eyes glued on you. “Tell me, was it good? Did you enjoy that old man fucking you? Or was it him who enjoyed having you sit back riding his cock while you-”

Someone grabbed Roddy by the collar of his jacket, yanking him back and hauling him to the floor with a loud grunt. That someone was a person you didn’t even notice sitting in the corner of the bar accompanied by Maria while Tommy worked his shift for the night. You also somehow didn’t notice those chocolate brown eyes clocking your every movement from the moment you walked in.

Hell, you would’ve been surprised to see how long he held himself back before he just couldn’t take one more word out of that asshole’s mouth. And when your eyes clocked Joel on top of Roddy, the wave of deja vu that hit you was lethal.

His fists were flying at a rate that seemed humanly impossible, and you barely registered your choice to launch yourself toward the fray until you felt a strong pair of arms holding you back. You screamed his name and other townspeople in the bar tried to intervene, but no one could get close enough to stop those fists from connecting with Roddy’s cheek, ribs, mouth and nose. They just kept coming.

You screamed his name again, and for a brief moment, he paused but the sound of your scared voice only renewed his anger. You fought against Tommy and finally found a break in his grip. Instead of once again trying to intervene like many expected you to, you beelined for the door.

You ran outside and paused when your feet hit the packed mud, heaving in breaths. You leaned forward on your knees and tried to breathe deeply, but the tears finally came. The words Roddy said and seeing Joel for the first time since he broke things off hit you like a brick wall. The tears turned into soft sobs and you brought a hand to your chest as you heard another set of feet barrel outside.

You spun around and saw Joel standing there, panting and spotting yet another bloody lip. At least Roddy is consistent.

Your breaths came quicker and soon, you too were panting in anger. He opened his mouth to speak but you stole his moment away. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

You closed the space between you and shoved him. “Why are you doing this?!”

Joel’s eyes were dark and angry, and even he couldn’t keep that from his voice. “Like hell am I going to stand around and watch while he talks to you like that. That little shit has no business-”

“No! You have no business.” Your hands were flying in vague gestures as the adrenaline and anger flowed through you and demanded to be emoted. “How can you tell me you want nothing more to do with me? And that I make you feel dirty. Then, turn around and waltz in with your fucking white horse?”

He just looked at you with angry eyes and you couldn’t stand it. “Say something!”

He brought a hand to his mouth and rubbed it, trying to control his own emotions. He’d never seen you this angry. Hell, no one had.

“Why did you treat me like I didn’t matter to you if you’re going to continue using your fists every time someone is nasty to me?!” He still couldn’t speak.

“I’ll give you this, Joel. At least you're consistent in your bullshit. Because none of it makes any sense. In theory, you shouldn’t care if what we had together felt so wrong.”

He stepped forward without thinking and bracketed your shoulders with his hands. You shoved him away again.

“No. You don’t get to do that anymore. You don’t get to touch me.” Your tears were coming in streams and covering your face in a wet shine. You touched your chest again to still your breath and the hiccups that were puncturing your words. “None of it makes any sense. Unless you lied to me.” You hated that your voice cracked.

He took a step back and whispered your name. You shook your head angrily. “Did you lie to me?”

His eyes pleaded with you to do something but you didn’t know what because the coward couldn’t even speak a goddamn syllable other than your name. “Is it because of what people were saying? Does small-town talk really matter that much to you?”

He just shook his head.

“Well, whatever it was, it sure made that decision a quick one for you.”

Again, he whispered your name and tried to close the gap between you. You let him, briefly. You met his eyes and wanted to fall back into time before any of this happened. You just wanted your nights back with him. You wanted him back.

“I’m sure you’ll get over this quickly, too.” You tore his arms off you and stormed down the road and back to your home that was no longer a place he could escape to.

As soon as you were out of sight, Tommy slowly walked down the steps and turned to his brother with a hard look on his face.

“You deserved everythin’ she threw at you. You’re a goddamn coward, Joel. You don’t fuckin’ deserve her.”

Next Chapter.

Tag List :) @silksepia @hello-nah817 @longlivetheloneliness @keseqna @millers-girl @treacherqus @lemonboi @spnfic85 @secretlettersfromyourlove @nosebeers @boscogirlsworld @aleemendoza2425-blog @puppi-sonnenschein

[changisworld]

Baby fever

Husband!Chan x reader

word count;3,200

Summary: Your husband, Bangchan has finally decided that he too wants a baby, after you constantly pestering him & getting it into how good parents you would both be.

-just HAD to write this after I got an ask about & then having my amazing 🪫 anon AGREEING which has now encouraged me to write this heheh,

18+, MDNI, SMUT WARNINGS UNDER THE CUT

©ANY translation, copy & paste, posting of my work is strictly forbidden for ANY posts/ writing i post.

main masterlist here

SMUT WARNINGS: PIV, oral(f rec), B R E E D I N G kink, creampie, lactation kink if you squint, nipple sucking, slight dirty talk, channie is BBBIIIGGG, bulge kink, body worship, marking, lovemaking, praise, aftercare but more off screen, 99% smut 1% backstory :3

You & your husband, Chan are just strolling around Walmart, doing some grocery shopping for your fridge & cupboards & you both end up walking past the small clothes section & your eyes land instantly on the cute newborn baby onzies & cute baby packs of socks.

"Channieeee, how can you even look at this n not want a baby? the clothes are so teeny & adorable!" you cheer, looking at him with a big smile & doe eyes on your face & chan just looks at you & rolls his eyes, smiling at you as he reaches out to touch the baby clothes, looking at all the cute patterns on them.

"Shhh! It's not that I don't want a baby, It's just scary! You say the exact same quote every time we walk past anything to do with babies I can rehearse it!" He giggles before putting his hand up & splaying it across the little onzie, comparing the size to it.

"I know but I'm just dyyying for a baby! Would you prefer a boy or a girl? & you've been saying you'll 'think about it' for monthhhs! We'd be the best parents on earth n you know it, I've seen you with kids & you'd be the best dad evverrrrr!" you cheer back, reaching out to ruffle his soft black hair & he kneans into your touch.

"I wouldn't care if about gender as long as I got a mini us & I knowww but still! You've came off the pill so now we just gotta see if it happens, can you get us some tomatoes? We forgot to pick em up." He questions you, putting both hands back on the cart & giving you a kiss on your cheek, making you blush.

"Doesn't mean much if you pull out Channie! I'll grab five." you sigh as you leave your husband & walk to go get what he asked you to. Chan watches you leave before he looks back at some of the cute baby clothes & he picks up three different onzies in different stripes & also polka dot patterns, he also picks up a cute little white baby hat before he buries it underneath the small mountain of items still in the cart before making his way to the checkout, texting you to just put the tomatoes back & meet him at the car.

⭑･ﾟﾟ･:༅｡.｡༅:ﾟ::✼✿　　✿･⭑✼:ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ

"I didn't even realise that you'd asked me for tomatoes but while I was there I remembered you don't even like tomatoes!" You whine as you buckle in your seatbelt, turning to look at the man beside you, now laughing as he turns the key.

"I just wanted to see if you'd remember! You failed the test." he chirps back & you swat him on the arm jokingly & he just laughs at you again before driving back to your shared home.

The rest of the day goes without a hitch, Chan insists on putting the items away & you don't complain, deciding to just tidy up your shared bedroom instead, reorganising the room & making the bed before deciding to just do some laundry since you have the habit of letting it pile up.

You are sorting out your jewellery box, using your shirt to make each piece shinier before replacing each part, fully rearranging the box in front of you when your bedroom door opens & Chan enters the room, hands behind his back.

"Ah, what ya doin babe?" he questions, looking a bit antsy. "Just tidying, why? Wha'cha hiding?" you reply, your head nodding towards him, referring to whatever he is holding behind his frame.

"well eh, I couldn't decide if I was gonna hide it for a while longer or if I wanted to lay it on the bed with rose petals or something, make it all romantic but you caught me, can I do that or are you gonna be stubborn n make me show you now?" he hums to you & you frown your eyebrows at him, chuckling as you try move your head to see what is in his hands, but he is quicker & keeps moving his frame.

"You know me too well, I really am that stubborn, show meeee." you reply as you do as he asks of you anyway & you stand in front of him before closing your eyes & cupping your hands in front of the both of you.

He takes in a deep breath & you just know his hands are shaking behind is back. "Just know y/nnie, no pressure! I don't want you to feel like I'm putting you on the spot." he says in a soft voice as he places something in your hands.

You open your eyes after nodding at his words & look down & what is it you see? A few of the tiny baby onzies you were dreaming over just a few hours ago & an adorable tiny tiny baby hat laying on top of them.

You look up at Chan, nerves smeared all over his features, his adams apple moving through his throat as he swallows, not taking his eyes off you as his hands cup themselves over the outside of yours, his thumbs caressing your hands.

"Is this what I think this means, Channie?" you ask, your mind going at a million miles an hour & the butterflies in your stomach being that crazy you're convinced they're about to fly out of your mouth.

"Uh.. yeah, I've had my mind up for a while, just got a bit scared to directly say it I guess?" he replies, his cheeks a shade of rose pink as you can feel his hands slightly shaking & getting warmer against your as he keeps his on yours.

"Channie, you're so silly, there was nothing to be scared of when I've been begging you to knock me up!" you joke as you softly throw the small fabric on the chest of drawers beside you both before practically throwing yourself at him, connecting your lips together, he freezes for a second before melting into your touch & kissing you back passionately.

He ushers you towards the bed & you lay down once the back of your knees hit the edge of your bed & chan follows right behind you, putting his hand & forearm on the bed beside your head to hold up his weight as his tongue begins to break past your lips, tasting you deeper, which you have no problem reciprocating.

You worm your hands beneath one of his usual black shirts & you feel over his chiselled abs, making him squirm. "You really are desperate, aren'cha?" he teases as he takes the three seconds to take his top off before getting back into the same position he was in before, taking the time to admire your slightly reddened & spit glossed lips.

"Well why waste time when I've been begging for so long?" you chirp back as you wriggle yourself up the bed, making chan follow not long behind you.

Your husband just smirks at you before kissing the tip of your nose. "I love you, soooo much, you mean the world n more to me." he murmurs in a sweet tone to you before he begins to kiss your jawline before making his way down to your neck, nibbling on different spots of your neck before lightly suckling on the exact same parts of skin, leaving four dark red marks on the right side of your neck.

Chan bunches your shirt up at the top of your chest, not bothering to take it off as he wriggles himself downwards just an inch & begins to fondle your tits over your bra as he kisses the parts not covered by the fabric & you sit up just enough to unclasp it for him & he lets out a hum of approval before taking a look up at you, the both of your eyes completely full of lust, pupils blown out & your stomach does a flip.

He cups your right tit in his hand as he starts to tongue your left nipple, your nipples perking up even more than what the cold air caused. He takes it in his mouth & suckles on it, making your back arch off the bed & you let out a small hum as you let your fingers find their way into his hair, playing with it.

"Your tits are so perfect, can't even imagine these filled with milk, try save me some, alright?" he says, more to himself but he still takes the time to look up at you, his fingers not stalling on your right nipple before reattaching his pretty, pink, puffy lips to your nipple, sucking on it as if it's the last time he will ever do so.

"Channie with a lactation kink? who woulda guessed." you chuckle at him as he switches tit, repeating the action & you close your eyes, simply taking in the feeling.

He then stops his motions & gives yet another hickey to your left tit before kissing all the way down your stomach before pushing your shorts & underwear off your smooth legs without much struggle.

"How do you blame me, have you seen you?" he remarks back at your words, not even looking up at you this time as he now settles down at your legs before pushing them open, now looking at your pretty, now glistening cunt & he sighs, a dreamy look painting his features & your heart melts.

He wants to tease you but his own patience is wearing thin so after a few kisses to your thighs, working his way inwards, not missing the way you squirm & twitch beneath him as your thighs rest on his broad shoulders & he licks a long, slow stripe up your cunt which makes you shudder.

He uses the tip of his tongue to slightly tease you but mostly to get a deeper taste by licking the outside part of your folds before using his tongue to part them further before he works his way up to your clit & begins kitten licking it.

"Chan, like that, fingers please." you request, sucking a breath through your teeth, trying your best to stay still for him. "say please n I will" he teases to you before moving away from your clit, much at your disapproval & begins teasing your now leaking hole.

"Pretty pleaseee, Channie, please." You beg as you try push your hips towards him, giving him that little bit extra of your cunt on his lips & he obviously can't help but let out a muffled groan as he starts to grind his hips against the bedsheets, trying to ease even a tiny bit of the pressure in his cock as he listens to your pleas & enters his middle & index finger into your pussy, a small squelch being heard.

He picks up the pace on your clit as he begins to suck & nibble on it, not caring about how much spit is escaping his lips as his fingers match the same speed, doing a 'come here' motion & you begin grinding against his face, your hands reaching down to twist your nipples in your fingers as you begin to fall apart.

"Gonna cum channie, don't stop." you basically demand as your eyes scrunch closed & your legs close in on his head, but he doesn't budge & continues at the same speed, smirking into you & humming & moaning into you & your orgasm bubbles over not even five seconds later, moaning his name non stop.

He lets you ride out your orgasm on his tongue & fingers as he slowly slows down his movements until you begin to whine & he knows your body well enough to know it's the overstimulation setting in.

He pulls out his fingers & puts them up to his mouth & sucks the orgasm you just had off his fingers & groans to himself before licking his lips & then making his way back up to you & kissing you, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue & you whimper on his lips.

"Taste as good as always, do you still wanna do this Channie? You can still pull out if you have any doubts." you reassure him, cupping his cheek with your hand & moving your thumb back & forth, giving him a warm smile. "I'd never back out babe, especially now that it's out in the open, lemme put this baby in you, mkay?" he chirps, nuzzling into your touch before allowing you to sit up so you can take your top off & he strips too, his cock slapping against his lower stomach as he helps manoeuvre you towards the edge of the bed & stands between your legs, jerking himself a few times, his tip already shiny with the amount of precum that has been leaking for the past twenty minutes or so.

He gives you a warm smile & he reaches down to hold your hand, your wedding rings beside one another as he begins to slowly push in, knowing he can't go too quick as he is aware how big he is, he knows he needs to allow a lot of time to stretch so he doesn't make it hurt any more than needed since no matter how much prep he gives you, it still makes you hold your breath for a second.

He buries himself to the hilt & he pauses, letting you get adjust as he kisses your ring finger, making you both blush as you look at each other, nothing but love & adoration in both of your eyes.

"You can move, 'm ready." you softly speak & chan hums as he moves his hips before softly moving them forward again, both of you letting out a moan in unison. "you're so tight, y/n, I'm fully convinced you're made for me." He says in a hoarse voice, biting his bottom lip, making you clench around him.

He begins a medium pace, hitting your G-spot each time & you can barely catch your breath as you both make eye contact, not one of you daring to break it as you can both slightly hear the wet, squelching noises of your cunt wrapping around his cock over your shared moans.

"Chan-nie, you're in my s-stomach, fuck." you yelp as he changes his position slightly, hammering into your spongey spot & kissing your cervix in a painful yet addicting way.

"Hmm yea? I can tell, look at it sweetie." he groans back, slightly breathless as he stands up, pace not slowing as he takes the hand which he is still holding & placing it on your lower stomach & you can't help but get giddy as you can feel his cock in your pelvis, making you clench around your husband more than you already were, making his pace falter.

"Taking me so well, babe, see? too bad we won't get to see it in your pretty belly once my cum sticks, can't say I-I'd complain though." he basically whimpers as he leans back over you, taking your lips in his own as he continues to destroy your poor hole & you yelp into his mouth with how deep he is.

"C-I'm gonna cum, gim-gimme it." you shriek as your hands reach onto behind his back & you dig your nails into his back, refusing to let go & chan just groans into you as he kisses you again, muffling both of your moans but only slightly.

You begin clenching around his cock & he stands back upright to be able to take in the whole sight. He reaches down to rub your swollen button with his thumb & you don't even have the right mind to even be able to warn him before your second orgasm hits you like a brick wall & your legs begin shaking as your back arches & you let out a shriek as you cum, this time all over his cock, your orgasm so strong it almost pushes him out of your hole.

He doesn't falter his pace this time & continues at the same speed & rhythm, throwing his head back but not for long as he feels his own orgasm starting to bubble up.

He looks down at your pretty, reddened face, a small shimmer on your skin, your tits bouncing along with his thrusts as you pinch your nipples again, not breaking eye contact with you.

"Cha-channie, s-so big I-I swear to f-fuck, please c-cum in me, gim-gimme your baby." you whine up at him, trying your best to ignore the overstimulation he is giving you for the sake of his own release & mostly focusing on just trying to push the simple sentence out.

"Wou-wouldn't dream oth-otherwise, beautiful, your pretty belly gon-gonna be so full for me, I know it's gonna s-stick, you're t-too good for me, my angel." he says, breathless & he takes your left hand in his again & he sucks on two of your fingers as he lets his orgasm take over, having to use all his strength to keep himself standing as he lets his cum coat your walls, you taking in the feeling of it too.

Chan lets his own orgasm come & then pass before he slowly pulls out, not failing to notice how his dick is so shiny you'd think he put lube on it & he uses the rest of his strength to help you lay at the top of the bed & he rests his back against the pillows, letting you lay between his legs, your back against his chest.

He grabs the bottle of water from his side of the beds bedside table as he always insists on having water there & feeding you it as he kisses the top of your head.

"Did so well for me hunny, you not sore or anything? I love you sooo much. want me to run you a bath n make food?" he questions softly as he reaches down with the hand not holding the bottle to rub over your stomach.

"I'm fine, more than fine actually, just daydreaming about out future bundle of joy! Just wanna lay here for now but yes, we can bath n eat soon, just lemme melt into you a bit more first." you half joke as you turn your head way from the bottle, indirectly telling him you're finished drinking & he just half laughs as he puts it back where he originally found it & cuddles you.

"Just gotta think of baby names don't we? It can't come soon enough, you can choose food since you'll complain if I order something for us if you give me the freedom to choose." he jokes & you just 'tut' at his words, smiling as you rest your head on his arms.

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[quillsandcravats]

Reign

Summary: Benedict, devoted and submissive, reveres you as his Queen and seeks to bring you ultimate pleasure. Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!Reader Rated: Explicit, MDNI, 18+ only Word Count: 2k Warnings: d/s, femdom, dirty talk, light bondage, both praise and degradation, pet names, drool/spit, oral (f receiving), queening/face sitting, light breathplay Requested: Yes/No

You sit on the plush chaise in the drawing room, your eyes scanning the latest copy of Lady Whistledown's Society Papers. The crackle of the fire in the hearth is complemented by the patter of London rain tapping against the large, ornate windows. With a rustle, you flip to the next page and reach for your porcelain teacup on the side table. The warmth of the tea spreads through you as you take a long, satisfying sip.

The faintest of whimpers drifts through the room, pulling your focus from your task. A small, condescending smile tugs at the corners of your lips, a mix of amusement and superiority evident in the slight upward curve. Benedict is down on his knees, the intricate patterns of the Persian rug beneath him, its rich reds and blues intertwining. The flickering firelight bathes him in a soft, amber hue, accentuating the contours of his face and casting shadows that dance across his smooth, pale skin. His entire body is stripped, leaving every inch of his complexion exposed to the cool air of the room. A navy blue silk cravat is tightly knotted around his mouth, muffling his voice so that his whimpers and gasps emerge as soft, unintelligible sounds.

Your lover's eyes glisten like sapphires, hidden by the fringe of his lashes that tremble subtly. A faint line forms between his brows, a silent plea for your approval. With a sharp tongue click, you let the teacup drop to the table with a jarring clatter. "Do I sense impatience?" you query.

Benedict's brow furrows as he jerks his head from side to side, his messy brunette hair moving briskly. "Mmph-mph. Unh, unh,"

You rise to your feet and make your way toward him. God, Benedict looks at you like you hang the moon. In front of the Ton, he leads you with all of the decorum and masculinity expected of a gentleman. But privately, he needs you to guide, lead, and love him in every way you can. He needs to submit to you, to your every desire and whim. Here, you reign as Benedict's queen; he would surrender himself entirely for you, willing to do anything to earn your adoration.

You run gentle fingers through his hair as you crouch beside him, feeling its texture against your fingertips. You glide a single finger down his stomach. With each gentle stroke, you can feel the slight twitch under your touch , a subtle reaction to your caress. A laugh escapes your lips as you marvel at how his body responds to the gentlest brush of your fingertips. His cock stands erect, demanding your focus.

Artfully, you reach out, grazing the precum with your fingertips, feeling its warm slickness. You dance a line along the underside of his cockhead with your finger, softly arousing the sensitive cluster of nerves at his frenulum. Benedict's hips buck immediately in response, and a low, guttural moan escapes him, muffled by his gag.

"You are so messy," you coo, using his wetness to lubricate your hand and stroke him. "Merely from being exposed, unclothed before me, watching me peruse that scandalous gossip from Lady Whistledown?"

He whines, his eyes flitting shut, head tipping back in pleasure. This is how you treasure him most - all filthy and compliant, just for you. With a gentle tug, you slide the knot loose, feeling the fabric of the cravat slip through your fingers as you unwind it from his head. The fabric unfurls, releasing his mouth from its restraint.

"Shall we put that pretty mouth to better use?"

Benedict acknowledges his lack of permission to voice his desires. So he simply nods, his eyes filled with an intense yearning as you rise, your movements enticing as you walk back to the chaise. You lower yourself down, smoothing your dress as you cross one leg over the other.

"You may speak, pet."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

You remember the first time Benedict referred to you with that title. It happened during a conversation about how things would proceed, discussing mutual desires, aversions, and what you wished to experience. You discussed names and safe words together — and he inquired whether he could call you His Queen. Benedict longed to surrender himself entirely to your will, cherishing the idea of you having absolute dominion over him.

"Crawl to me."

Benedict lowers himself to his hands and knees, slinking toward you with the grace of a feline. His eyes shimmer with adoration, a hungry desperation etched across his features. As he crawls nearer, his mouth parts with eager anticipation. You gaze at his pouty, pink lips, shimmering with a ravenous desire. You imagine those lips exploring you ... every inch of you. Lust blossoms in your core, your pussy pulsating as he draws nearer. With a gentle yet commanding gesture of your pointer finger, you guide Benedict before you on the floor.

"Lie on your back, gazing up."

He sinks to the floor, his back pressing into the rug's softness. His eyes lock onto yours, a delectable mix of curiosity and intensity as if awaiting your next step in a dance. You crouch beside him on the floor. Your hand, gentle and deliberate, traces the contours of his face, your palm gliding softly over the curve of his cheek, savouring the texture of his skin and the bit of stubble there. He is breathtakingly handsome, each feature enchanting, even the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes mesmerize you. This man is your universe - someone you adore with a passion that surpasses the boundaries of societal norms: the profound love of a domme for her devoted submissive.

You slide your pointer and middle fingers between Benedict's parted lips, and he begins to suckle with a rhythmic hunger. The moist warmth of his tongue sends a spark of pleasure coursing through your fingertips, electric and vivid. His shoulders slacken as he eases into the sensation, allowing you to press deeper, past a second knuckle, then a third, until his saliva pools and spills around your fingers. You allow yourself to fuck his mouth with your fingers for a while, teasingly playing with the slickness of his spit, creating a mess as you smear it across his lips. You slide your fingers deeper, deeper, deeper until you sense his breath hitch and hear him gasp, a cascade of spit escaping his mouth in response.

"Such a good boy, taking Your Majesty's fingers so perfectly," You commend, observing the proud smile of accomplishment that spreads across his lips and the delightful pink blush that colors his cheeks. The sight, the feel of his mouth, drool, and tongue sends shivers down your spine, igniting a heat that pulses in your clit. The ache in your core grows sharp-set, desperate for his face to be buried in your pussy, lapping at you with want.

Abruptly, you slide your fingers from his mouth, feeling the slick warmth disappear from your skin. You surge to your feet in a swift, fluid motion. His eyes track you, a soft squeak of disappointment escaping his throat.

Your face contorts into a parody of empathy, eyebrows arching delicately, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. You push your lower lip into an exaggerated pout, tilting your head with calculated grace. This teasing mimicry echoes one of his iconic expressions—an intimate, playful jab at him.

"Aw, poor thing," you murmur, your voice thick with feigned sincerity.

You move forward, standing with one foot on either side of his face, the cool wooden floor steady beneath your feet. His breaths are shallow and rhythmic, barely audible, but you can sense the anticipation in their pattern. Slowly, you gather the muslin of your dress in your hands, pulling it up to reveal yourself fully to him, feeling the night air brush against your skin. Benedict moans softly as you do so, his hips rising with yearning, his shaft pulsing at the mesmerizing view of your cunt, partially veiled by a soft, delicate tuft of hair.

"Where does a Queen sit?"

"O-on her throne, Your Majesty," Benedict breathes. His voice was sweet and innocent, like warm honey drizzling your skin.

"And what, pray tell, is my throne?"

"My face, Your Majesty…my face is your throne."

"Well done, pet."

You gently descend onto his face, the warmth of his breath mingling with your heat. His nose grazes your skin, drawing in your distinctive fragrance, while his lips linger just below, parted and trembling. Benedict closes his eyes, savoring the moment before he indulges in what he craves most—the intoxicating essence of his queen, his Dominant.

Your breath hitches, a shiver cascading over your skin as his lips descend upon your cunt. A tantalizing mix of tingling and tickling elicits a soft gasp from you, settling into the sensation as you sink deeper into a seated position, your heels tucked behind your ass, knees nearly on the ground. You can feel the warm moisture of his mouth on your pussy, kissing and suckling with his entire mouth. He holds nothing back, letting himself go entirely as he tastes your sweetness. The wet sounds of his kisses and suckles on your folds only make you more aroused. A filthy symphony fills the drawing room, consuming you both.

"What an obedient slut you are," You offer a keening praise, undulating your hips in a circle. Your hands glide upward, exploring the contours beneath your dress until they reach the soft swell of your breasts. With a gentle yet deliberate touch, your thumb and forefinger tease your nipples, rolling and squeezing them in a rhythm that matches the subtle sway of your pelvis.

Benedict's fingers gently tap against your thigh, pleading for a moment of reprieve. As you rise up, he takes in a deep gasp of air, his body trembling with anticipation as you lower yourself back down onto him. He struggles to control his breathing as you move in a rhythm that allows him just enough oxygen to continue servicing you. A satisfied smile curves your lips as you hear his muffled groan and feel his skilled mouth latch onto your clit, knowing that this intense sensation will push you over the edge. As his lips suction your swollen clit, the pleasure takes you to a new height.

A simmering warmth gathers deep within your belly like a slow-burning fire, its fury growing as it wells through your center. Your body responds with animalistic instinct. The sweltering urges you on; your hips respond, pressing fervently against him.

"Yes, yes, my good boy!" You toss your head back, letting a carnal moan fall from your lips. "Fuck! Oh, Benedict, darling, fuck."

You feel nothing but pure pleasure as your orgasm rockets through you, your thighs squeezing and clamping around Benedict's head. White hot waves break through your body, the darkness blooming behind your closed eyes, your head tipped back in rapture. Your muscles contract and release, involuntarily squeezing and clamping around him as you ride it out. Benedict's skilled mouth sends waves of pleasure through your body until it's overwhelming. A groan comes from him as he feels you come on his face. He pushes upward, yearning to reach himself, but restrains, aware that he hasn't been granted permission, at least, not yet.

Benedict's tongue continues to tease at your throbbing and sensitive clit, his arms holding you tightly against him. He knows exactly how to keep you on the edge of ecstasy, knowing that the slightest change in pressure or speed will send you over the edge. And so he holds on, allowing himself to lessen his suckling just slightly, not wanting to overwhelm your sensitive nub. A second orgasm rages through you, even more intense than the first. Your body bucks, your hands grasping at his hair as you cry out his name, lost in a haze. You do not care who can hear your cries - not the maids, not the damned people on the street, not the entire world - the pleasure is too overwhelming to worry about discretion.

You need a few moments to stop your legs from trembling, so you inhale deeply and exhale slowly to steady yourself. Carefully, you shift your position, sliding off Benedict and settling beside him. He turns his head toward you, his face glistening, hair mussed like a madman. A soft giggle escapes your lips as you lean in, closing the gap to plant a kiss on him, the familiar taste of your own essence lingering on his skin.

"I do believe my good boy deserves a treat," you coquette. "Might you want Your Queen to return the favor?"

I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE REPOSTED, COPIED, OR TRANSLATED WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT CONSENT. Taglist: @whatcjdidnext @i-do-not-care-bear @monaskydancer @enchantedbytomandhenry