#but he is beautiful and i love the sculpting on the clothes

[apples-are-yummy]

fae charlie meeting you

song of the forest no.2

hehe i love my forest creature

Charlie needed to think.

He didn't understand what he felt when he saw you.

He didn't understand why the wind thrummed with his heart when he saw you.

He didn't understand why a human was making him like this.

Humans are bad! they take from his home, they take from his forest, they take from his life.

He didn't understand why you were different.

He had to go to the only place that he knew to calm his nerves, the spring

The spring in the forest is one of Charlie's favorite spots.

The water is crystal clear and blooming with life, both flora and fauna.

Charlie was swimming, no goal in mind, just feeling the fresh water around him ripple and flow, clearing his mind as it ebbs and flows, but something in the water caught his eye.

It was a small rock at the bottom of the spring.

But it was just so pretty.

He dove deep to grab the rock, feeling the weight in his hand as he swam back to the surface.

It was a chunk of red agate that had been tumbled by the sand over hundreds of years in the spring. The banding was lighter in color, swirling around the curves of the stone. it was beautiful, it almost reminded him of the human he had seen earlier.

Charlie started to swim to the shore to place the rock with all of his clothing and such when he started to feel that shift again.

He felt the same presence in the forest as before, the same current in the wind and charlie had no fucking clue what to do.

He felt the presence get closer and he panicked.

He looked around and saw nothing but it kept getting closer to the shore from the forest,

so he hid.

He found a huge rock that was in the water but still close to the shore and swam behind it.

Charlie tried to ignore the pull, ignore the wind beating with his heart and ignore the sound of someone walking on the sand–

His eyes widened and his tail lowered. He moved his hand to his mouth to cover any noise that might escape his lips.

That presence– that glow was so close to Charlie.

Silently, he moves just enough to see what was near him and—

It happened again.

The wind twirled.

The forest sang.

And Charlie's quick heartbeat was broadcasted through the wind.

He saw the same person–the same human as before.

His tail started to wag again and luckily for Charlie, no plants were close enough to him, because if they were, they would shine for you.

You walked to the shore, finding a large rock to sit on to dangle your feet over into the water, just wanting to relax. You had spotted a rock that seemed big enough and started to walk towards it.

Charlie's eyes widened even further when you turned and started to walk towards him.

shoot.

Did you see him?

Quickly, he ducked completely behind the rock and he sank a little deeper in the water so only his head was above.

He put his back to the rock, praying to the sun that you didn't see him, and you hadn't! at least not yet…

You had made it to the rock, rolling up the legs of your pants, but before you could sit down and hang your legs into the water, you saw a man in the water resting against the rock.

"Hello? Are you alright?" you asked the strange man.

Charlie jumped at your voice, it was so… beautiful.

He quickly turned around and looked up at you.

The wind began to twirl and the forest began to sing again.

All he could do was stare at you with his eyes wide, his mouth agape.

You finally got to see who the strange head was.

Oh he was pretty. His eyes the same color of the water, his hair wet and pushed back and his antlers–

What. The. Fuck.

He had antlers. Fucking antlers with cute little flowers on them.

What the hell is this guy? you thought, trying to examine him even more.

Your eyes fell from his head down his body, seeing his sculpted shoulders and golden skin and– oh of COURSE he's naked.

Before you could keep studying him, he spoke.

"I’m– I’m fine. Who are you and why are you here." He had to gather every ounce of courage in him as he stood to speak, trying to look intimidating to you.

"I’m y/n… I'm just here to relax! I don't want to do anything bad, I swear!" you defended yourself as you look at his now standing figure– still naked, and does he have a fucking tail?!

You couldn't deny he was stunning, yea the antlers and the tail were weird but… he made your cheeks flush and your heart start to race. 

Hell, you didn't even know this guy, but you couldn't deny that you were pulled to him.

Charlie stood down from his stance slightly, still feeling melted by your glow.

"I’m Charlie." 

"Can I ask– what are you?" your head tilted, still wildly curious of Charlie.

"I’m… me. I’m Charlie." he spoke, just a little confused with your question.

"I know you’re charlie… but what…species are you? where did you come from? " you asked the fae.

"I'm fae, I come from the forest, I live here, I've lived here for hundreds of years." Charlie explained it to you as if it was obvious, but he was being gentler than his first introduction.

You slowly nod just stare at him, astonished. you had read about fae before, passing them off to just be fantasy, but here he was, standing in the water below you.

"Can I ask why you're naked though? I mean do fae wear clothes…?" you prodded.

He laughed loudly in response, throwing his head back slightly. Charlie had warmed up to you quickly, following the pull towards you.

"My clothes are over there," he pointed to the shore, "but why would I wear clothes in the water though? It would get all heavy and wet."

"Because you're exposed! your uh, thing is just visible!" you asked him, gesturing to his groin and averting your eyes.

He looked where you were gesturing.

"And?" he tilted his head in genuine curiosity "I'm just in the water though, nothing can hurt me, I don't need clothes to protect me. And 'my thing' is just part of me, it's not any different than my legs or my hands. Why do I need to cover it up?"

You opened your mouth to respond but closed it after you couldn't find an answer.

"You know what, that's fair." you said as you sat down on the rock.

He smiled at you and you swore he made the sun look dim.

"Y'know, I think you're the first nice human I've ever met." he crossed his arms and rested them on the rock, getting closer to you.

"I don't doubt that. a lot of us are kinda awful." you chuckled.

The sun began to set and the crickets began to chirp. it was getting late, and you knew you had to get home eventually.

You two had been talking for hours.

"Charlie, I think I have to leave, it's getting pretty dark out…" you looked down at him, his freckles glowing through the night. 

"It got dark faster than I thought." he smiled, stretched upward, his sculpted torso on display.

"Could I… walk you to the edge of the forest?" Charlie tilted his head and looked up at you. 

"I'd like that." you smiled down at him.

You both left the rock, you walked to the sand, and Charlie swam to the shore to put his clothes back on.

When Charlie got back to his stack of his clothing, he saw the small agate he found earlier.

Quickly, he put his clothes back on, not forgetting to grab the little rock.

You met him where the sand meets the trees and you were about to step forward when you noticed he didn't have any shoes on. You smiled at him.

"Did you forget your shoes?" You asked.

"Oh, no, I don't like wearing them, I can't feel the forest if there's anything on my feet." He responded, starting to walk into the forest.

"Huh… alright then." you followed him but you noticed light coming from the ground. You looked down and saw that wherever Charlie walked, glowed.

"Holy shit…" you gaped as you looked to where Charlie stepped. 

He stopped, confused as to what shocked you, but then he saw you looking down to his feet.

"Oh! don't worry about that, it just happens when I touch plants!" He laughed it off as if it was completely normal while he touched some moss on a tree and it began to glow too.

Both of you started to walk again, you silently nodded, still astounded by Charlie and what he could do.

Eventually as you walked together, you reached the edge of the forest, he turned to you.

"I uh… wanted to give you this… I found it at the bottom of the spring, and it reminded me of you…" He held out the small agate to you as he averted his eyes, a blush rising to his cheeks and the flora around him started to glow brighter.

You looked at him, smiling as you gently took the rock from his warm hand, a blush starting to rise to your cheeks as well.

“I'll see ya later?” you asked him, he only nodded in response, captured in your eyes.

“Bye Charlie.” you cupped the side of his face and placed a soft kiss to his cheek, looking into his eyes and smiling afterwards.

The plants around him glowed the brightest they had ever been and the wind twirled, his tail swayed, and the forest was thrumming with both of you.

“B-bye (y/n)…” He stuttered out, watching as you walked away.

As you walked away, he touched his cheek, still feeling the ghost of your lips.

The wind’s dance began to rest, and the song of the forest began to get quiet.

Charlie smiled as he turned to walk back home, he still didn’t know what he felt, but he knew he didn't want it to stop.

[crowaes]

Slow Damage - Skytube [nsfw] - Towa: Blood Transfusion Version - Official product photos

28,600円 - Preorder: through December 12th - Estimated release: June 2025

[thewritetofreespeech]

Shower you with love

plot: Jinwoo comes home from a dungeon in desperate need for a shower. And you.

tags: f!reader, jinwoo x reader, shower sex, heterosexual sex, fingering, cute fluffy couple stuff

wc: 1.3K

-------------------------🔹----------------------------------

It was getting pretty late. You glance at your phone again to check the time, and sigh as you decided Jinwoo was probably not coming home. The life of a Hunter was like that sometimes. All you could do was hope that he was safe and ok.

Picking yourself up from the couch to put your mug in the sink for tomorrow’s wash and get ready for bed, when you hear the front door open. The only person it could be was Jinwoo, as Jinah was staying over at a friend’s place to study and work on a project, and raced for the door. Your enthusiasm is dampened, however, and smile falters as you take in your boyfriend’s appearance at the door. “What the hell happened to you?”

“I fell in a mud pit.”

You cover your mouth not to laugh directly in Jinwoo’s face, but also cover some of the smell. Not the freshest mud you had to assume; with Gods knew what else was in the pit before Jinwoo was added to it. “Well….take all that off then. I don’t want you tracking all this ick through the house. Luckily the washer is free. Just leave it there and I’ll take care of it.”

Jinwoo obediently pulled off his shoes and the rest of his clothes. His beautiful, sculpted body becoming more & more revealed as he stripped down to his boxers, fortunately spared from the muck. “Go take a shower and I’ll toss these in. Do you want anything to eat after?” He shook his head. Jinwoo seemed tired, but that might just be the long day or just the stress getting to him, so you decided to not push on the last time he ate. “Ok. Get cleaned up and we’ll get ready for bed.”

He made his way through the apartment to the bathroom, and you made quick work of the laundry. After you finished setting up a heavy wash cycle, you heard Jinwoo call your name from the bathroom. “What’s wrong?” You ask when you arrive. Expecting the worst somehow but just finding your boyfriend standing there with the shower running.

“Take a shower with me.”

You blush at Jinwoo’s request. He looked completely serious, yet somehow a little vulnerable as he reached out to pull you further into the bathroom. How could you say no?

Stripping out of your pjs, you wait for Jinwoo to get into the shower first. It was chilly in the bathroom, but you were willing to wait to have the initial layer of filth sluff off Jinwoo’s skin before you joined him. The water was warm as it hit your back, and you let out a little sigh. “It’s not too hot, is it?”

You turn around to face Jinwoo. His eyes fixed on you with a gaze as warm as the shower. Wet hair flopping down on his face. “No. It’s perfect.”

Jinwoo smiled, then leaned forward to give you a kiss. Slow, lazy, a signal on how tired he was, but apparently not that tired. “I missed you.” That was apparent by his erection brushing against your thigh.

You shutter but try to keep coy so Jinwoo didn’t completely have the upper hand. “You were only gone for a day.” You remind him.

He pouted in response with a frown. “Time is different in the dungeons.” You would have to take his word on that.

The Hunter pulled you in for another kiss. Bodies press fully together this time. You moan as your nipples brushed against the hard planes of his chest. Those calloused hands sliding over your body with ease thanks to the water. “Jinwoo…”

“I need you.” He told you when the two of you broke free. That serious yet vulnerable look on his face again.

“Ok.” You told him and pulled him back in. He could have all of you, he only needed to ask.

Kissing again, Jinwoo turned you both around, so you were out of the direct spray and your back was against the shower wall. His hands moved down between your legs to touch you and you moan as one of his fingers slid into you. Easy with the warm water. “Jin…” You whimper as he touched you. Pumping his fingers inside as his thumb brushed against your clit.

You manage to open your eyes and find Jinwoo staring at you. Transfixed. Taking in every express. In recent months he had become more observant like this in a variety of ways, but you never thought you would be the focus of it. Having him look at you that way, as if inside you, made your stomach quake as you held onto him.

“Jinwoo please…” You buck your hips into his hand and Jinwoo needed no further encouragement.

He pulled his hand from you and asked you to lift your leg. The shelf intended for small soaps & shampoo finding a whole new purpose in your shower set up. Jinwoo stepped further into your space and lined his cock up with your entrance. Pressing forward as you moan at being filled inside by him.

It felt amazing. Being close to him again (even if it was just a day). Apparently, however, missing you left Jinwoo with very little patience. Where he would usually slow up to start, he just went in full tilt with his thrusts inside you this time. Not that you were complaining. Your moans and screams echoing off the tile of the bathroom were evidence to that. “Oh God Jinwoo! Don’t stop!”

Your lover gave a low grunt in your ear, then suddenly your legs were up around Jinwoo’s waist with ease as he pounded into you. “Fuck!” You shriek as you cling onto him. When the hell did he get so strong?!

The change in position allowed Jinwoo to fuck deeper inside you. Hard and heavy. You could feel every thrust of his cock through your body. Pure, mind-numbing pleasure.

“Oh! Oh God Jin! So good! I-I’m gonna cum-!”

“Cum for me.” And it was like his words were a new activate command, meant only for you. You cum hard. Your whole body tightening around Jinwoo as you clung to him. Your pussy seizing around his cock as he came inside you.

The two of you hold there for a moment. Jinwoo holding you against the wall with him leaning against you, and you suspended in the air. When he let you down, he did so gently. Your legs were shaky, and you were still in a wet shower. 80% of household accidents happen in the bathroom, and you have to wonder now if great sex might also be the cause.

Jinwoo washed his hair quickly, then turned around to do the same to you. While he rinsed you cleaned the rest of your body to get the sweat and mess off you. Sex wasn’t dirty but it certainly wasn’t the most hygienic activity at times. Freshly showered, Jinwoo turned off the shower and stepped out of the tub. Offering you his hand.

“Do we have any puddings left?”

You turn to look over at Jinwoo as you dried off with your towel. Smirking a little, as he looked more like a little lost puppy now, rather than the beast that just fucked you. “I think so. Why? Are you hungry now?”

Jinwoo nodded and you leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Let me make you something then. You can’t live off pudding and protein bars Jin.”

“But I like pudding.” He insisted, but didn’t argue any further as he went to put on clothes and wait for you to make him something. Just a light snack. You couldn’t send the great Hunter to bed hungry, but he did need to get to bed.

As you watched him eat, cleaning up the crumbs from the counter as he happily munched, you thought it was good to have him home.

[retiredteabag]

The eyes of the beholder

my masterlist

Sukuna genuinely does not understand the concept of physical insecurity.

He has pride unrivaled by any, his assurity never wavers, and despite his unique appearance, he does not consider himself strange.

Additionally, Sukuna has a hard time putting himself in the shoes of others. He deems himself perfect. You are his favored one, so he attributes the same to you.

He sees you as the height of beauty and never entertains a different notion. It would never come to his mind.

What? You think he's wrong when he says your beauty is unparalleled? You think him a liar? You don't trust his judgment? Truly, he does not comprehend insecurity.

"Not everything is about you, Kuna." You spin around in one of the estate's halls of mirrors and run you hands over the subtle stretch marks that appear on your hips.

You had been trying on formal attire for one of the estate's events, something both you and Sukuna hated. He could likely feel any unhappy emotion that permeated your space.

You never enjoyed having to critique whether or not something was flattering on your body and Sukuna was no help as he wouldn’t allowed criticism of you.

He thought it was a waste of time because to him, it all looked appealing.

That, and you both hated events. Balls, Galas, Auctions, the whole gambit. None of it suited your interests, and The King thought them a disturbance.

You finally pulled on your original clothing, ruffling it this way and that so it would fall just right, and stepped out from behind the hall's flowing curtains.

"You wound me when you say things like that." Sukuna had his head leaned back against the wall with his eyes closed.

"I'll let everyone know just how well I can wound their King." You scoff and roll you eyes.

"Heavens, don’t they know?” He sits up. All four of his red eyes glower at you as if you've cast some kind of spell his way. "Why does this upset you so? Haven't I said that flaws hold no residence within you?"

Your lips are pulled into a frown. You know he couldn’t possibly understand, at first, it felt somewhat invalidating. His mindset was so far from yours, of course he would think it skewed.

"Don't you just think that because I have unfortunately found favor with you?" You begin to fold the options that the seamstresses had brought you as he huffs at your choice of words. "You were sculpted perfectly as you know, you and I are different."

He grumbles, having heard your complaints before. But you continue before he can take issue with it.

"My skin has these markings, and my thighs touch when I stand, my frame is far from ideal-" You turn to him now, "-and I cannot always love how things fit me as you do."

It's not that you're actually upset, just somewhat flummoxed by The King of Curses mindset.

Sukuna had sat up as you spoke, and now his posture bends toward you. He wears the silliest face you have ever possibly seen him produce and it almost makes you laugh.

His mouth is slightly open, lip arched, his eyes are wide but his brows are pulled together at your words and you could guess that he has never been so confused.

"What?" You almost giggle.

"By God, you care entirely too much."

You have to take a deep breath before he continues, "Your skin? What is it wrong with your skin? I quite like your skin. Would you rather I find you a furry pelt you can wear?"

It's moments like these that remind you of how silly this man is. You shake your head, but he continues, slowly, bewildered.

"Your... thighs touch? I see not how that could be an issue. Do not my thighs touch as well? How is it you are able to invent these things to be bothered by?"

Although you had been frustrated a moment before, you know he has a point. He had lived through many more centuries, it very well might have seemed strange to worry over such things.

Sukuna stands, coming closer without pause, and tugs on the draping of your garb. "What formula are you using to decide what looks good and what does not?" His hands find your body and squeeze over you in an almost ticklish way.

It was not sexual, it was not uncomfortable either. He was simply feeling you. He loved your being, whatever shell you presented in. Eventually, his palm came up and engulfed the top of your head, his fingers dangled by your eyes. "Hmmm, I cannot understand. Anything would be flattering if it was put on you."

A part of you wanted to murmur, "That's just what you're saying." But you knew Sukuna, and you knew he meant it. The concept that you might hold his same mindset was an impossibility at that moment in the hall of mirrors.

But you had many other moments to share with your King and believe me when I say, that man could be convincing.

[luv-lock]

Do you think Bruce would introduce y/n to the justice league? I could totally see her simping over the flash (Or conner Kent 👀).

The first time you meet Conner, you’re immediately smitten. He’s tall, gorgeous, and has that perfect blend of confidence and awkward boy-next-door energy that you thrive on.

You don’t even bother introducing yourself properly. After the initial “Hey, pretty boy, wanna fuck?” incident, you lean into your new role as his unsolicited sugar mama.

Conner, tries to respond, but you’re already calculating how much of Bruce’s money you’ll need to spoil him.

During one mission, you dramatically announce, “Conner deserves everything! Clothes, gadgets, vacations—all on Daddy Bruce’s tab!”

Once, you bought him an entire motorcycle. When Bruce found out, he dragged you into the Batcave, his voice dangerously calm.

“Explain why my credit card statement says you purchased a $50,000 bike.”

“It’s for Conner. He deserves nice things.”

Bruce’s eye twitches. “Conner can fly. He doesn’t need a bike.”

You shrug. “But he looks so good on it, Bruce. Don’t be stingy.”

You’re constantly “borrowing” Bruce’s money for ridiculous things.

“Bruce, I need a million dollars.”

“For what?” he asks, already exhausted.

“To buy Conner a pony. He’s always wanted one.”

Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m not giving you a million dollars.”

“Fine,” you huff. “But don’t come crying to me when Conner’s sad and pony-less.”

You have a love-hate relationship with Diana. You’re in awe of her beauty, strength, and grace, but you’re also deeply insecure.

During one mission, you stop mid-battle to dramatically compare your boobs to hers, much to everyone’s horror.

“Diana,” you sniff, clutching your chest, “I’ll never be able to compete with perfection like yours. It’s not fair!”

Diana, ever graceful, reassures you, “You’re beautiful in your own right.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re perfect,” you reply, before glaring at Bruce. “He never says anything nice to me.”

Bruce, utterly done: “Because you don’t deserve it.”

During a training session, you randomly grab Diana’s hand and place it on your boobs.

“Feel that, Diana. Am I Amazon material yet?”

She humors you, nodding seriously. “You’re getting there.”

You: “If I bulk up, can I join Themyscira?”

Barry finds you hilarious. He loves how unfiltered you are, even when it gets way too inappropriate.

Once, during a mission, you casually said, “Barry, do you think you could vibrate fast enough to—”

Barry, cutting you off, flailing: “DO NOT FINISH THAT SENTENCE.”

You just smirk. “I’m just saying. There’s potential.”

He starts speed-dodging your flirting, but you’re persistent. “One day, Speedy, you’ll come around.”

You have exactly one question for Hal when you meet him:

“So, hypothetically, could you make a functional dild—”

Hal, already holding up a hand: “Nope. Don’t even finish that thought.”

You pout. “Why do you even have the ring if you’re not going to use it creatively?”

Clark tries his best to remain polite and patient, but you test his limits.

“You must’ve been sculpted by the gods,” you tell him once, blatantly checking him out. “What’s it like being perfect, superdaddy?”

“I… um… thank you?” Clark stammers, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck while Bruce glares daggers at you.

You immediately give Arthur the nickname “Aquadaddy” and refuse to call him anything else.

“Look at those arms, Aquadaddy. What’s your bench press, a blue whale?”

Arthur smirks, clearly amused. “Something like that.”

You: “Bet you could throw me across the room.”

Arthur: “Why would I do that?”

You: “For fun. And because I’d enjoy it.”

You’re also obsessed with his tattoos.

“Did it hurt? Can I touch them? Are you planning on getting more? What if we got matching ones?!”

He indulges you for about five seconds before realizing you’re just trying to find an excuse to grope his arm.

“You’re worse than Barry,” he mutters.

During an underwater mission, you accidentally blurted out, “Do mermaids exist? Be honest.”

Arthur: “They’re… complicated.”

You: “Complicated? Are they, like, your exes?”

Arthur groans, swimming away while you cackle.

You’ve made it your life’s mission to torment Bruce.

When the League gathers for a meeting, you always find a way to embarrass him. One time, you slid into the room dramatically, pointed at him, and declared, “That man is the reason I’m not married yet!”

Bruce: “How is this my fault?”

You grin. “Because I’ll never find another man who looks as good in a suit. You’ve ruined my standards.”

You are Bruce’s biggest headache. Every time he turns around, you’re doing something wildly inappropriate.

During a League movie night, you plop yourself on the floor between his legs, resting your head on his thigh.

“Your thighs are so firm, Bruce. You ever think about becoming a leg model?”

Bruce just stares down at you, utterly done. “Go sit somewhere else.”

You grin up at him. “Nope. This is my spot now.”

As unhinged as you are, everyone in the League has a soft spot for you. You make them laugh, even if it’s at Bruce’s expense.

And while your antics are embarrassing for Bruce, they all know you’re a fierce fighter and incredibly loyal. When it matters, you’ve got their backs—and they wouldn’t trade you for anything.

Except Bruce. Bruce would absolutely trade you for five minutes of peace.

[strawberrymatchawhore]

baby

summary- babying your "tough" hubby rafe.. maybe some freakydeakyness at the end

note- this is the complete opposite of the rafe ive been writing about LMAOOO.. this man is SO BAD help me

it was 2am and you were in your bedroom scrolling on your phone, a random netflix show playing in the background. you've been waiting for your husband to get home for hours, being the wife to the chief of police did have its negatives. this was one of them.

you heard footsteps walking up the stairs and immediately turned off your phone, throwing the covers over yourself you pretend to be asleep. the door opens and you feel the weight of the bed shift.

"hey baby. sorry for getting home so late" rafe says giving your forehead a kiss, you jokingly ignore him.

"c'mon now i know youre awake.. get up and hold me." he begged tiredly, you couldnt help but giggle at how desperate he sounded.

"fine." you mumbled into the sheets but stayed in your position, he hugs you putting all of his weight on your body.

"okay okayy, i got it. now get off me you fatty." you whined, pushing his large frame off of you. you leaned against the bed frame and opened your arms, the both of you adjusting to a more comfortable position. which was the both of you propped up against a pillow.

"im so tired." he yawns into your chest, you played with his hair as the both of you stayed in silence.

"i know you are, you need a day off. youve been working too hard." validating him, his hand plays with the ribbon of your pajama shorts.

"see? youre still in your uniform, youre gonna make the bed dirty." you patted his back and drew circles on it.

"what, you want me take it off? if you wanted to see me naked you couldve asked sweetheart." he looked up at you and smirked. you glared at him, lightly slapping his arm.

"not what i meant.." you blushed.

"youre so cute you know that rafey, honestly when i look at you i just want to eat you." you confessed and massaged his temples, his face nuzzles into your chest even further. clearly he was blushing as well.

"i dont know how i got so lucky, im so glad i have a such a beautiful boy in my life. everything about you is just perfect." you cooed admiring his sculpted face, the way his plump lips curled into a smile.

"stopppp" he whined. you couldnt help but pull out your phone and take a picture. because if you didnt, who wouldve believe that your 6'2 husband loved to be babied like this? not like you were going to show anyone, its just for your eyes only. you wanted to cherish this moment forever.

"did you just take a picture?"

"let me see it." he shot up and reached for your phone. you put your phone under your pillow and laid on it, making sure he wasnt able to grab it. the two of you started play fighting.

"nooo please, you look so cute. let me keep it!!" you laughed, he started to tickle you. and you slowly started to fall off the bed. your legs wrapped around his waist and dragged him down, if you were gonna fall he was going to come down with you.

the laughing coming from you both died down and you looked up at him, what a funny position. you both were on the floor and he was in between your legs hovering over you.

rafe leaned downed and passionately kissed your lips, his hand starts to play with your shorts. you eventually pull away and slap his hand.

"nuh uh. go shower first. you stink." you got up to your feet then helped your boyfriend get up as well. you looked up at rafe with your head tilted, what was this man plotting?

"not unless you join me.. you cant say no" he quickly said and grabbed you by the waist. hoisting you over his shoulder and carrying you to the master bathroom.

"ahhh! rafe stop!!" you busted out laughing, kicking your feet as he practically dragged you to the shower. he put you down and turned on the warm water, it poured over you both. you furrowed your eyebrows.

"great now my clothes are all wet." you pouted crossing your arms over your now soaked tank top.

"more reason to take it off... lift your arms f'me"

[reidishh]

001

↳ Loss of Virginity with Aaron Hotchner

"Gonna give you all my love, boy, my fear is fading fast. Been saving it all for you, 'cause only love can last." - Madonna, Like a Virgin.

CONTENT/WARNINGS. Prelude to Smut (18+ mdni); Slight Dom/Sub Dynamics.

WC. 0.6K

AUTHORS NOTE. A light start to kinkmas. This is probably the worst thing I've ever written, but I want it out of the way, so enjoy.

kinkmas '24 masterlist

Aaron was beginning to believe there was no view more beautiful than you perched on his lap, skin flushed, lips kiss-bitten. You were a work of art - painted by Monet, sculpted by Conova. You belonged in a museum, put on display to be adored and revered for centuries to come. 

You were positively bewitching.

You wore Aaron’s navy GWU Law sweatshirt, something you had found shoved in the back of his wardrobe, discarded and forgotten. He wore it often during his time as a law student - it was one of his favorites, though he’d wager that it wouldn’t fit his filled out frame anymore. Aaron loved the way it looked on you, he loved the way seeing you in it made him feel.

Aaron’s hands rested against your thighs, his fingertips teasing against your soft skin, his cock hard and straining against the front of his pants as you unwittingly pushed yourself further against him. He needed you with a fierce desperation, inhibitions be damned. He needed to taste you and to feel you and to hear you. He needed to worship you. Aaron needed to know that you needed him, that you wanted him - he needed to know you were sure. 

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered, his lips brushing against yours, the ghost of a kiss. Aaron could hear you whimper, could feel you grind your clothed pussy against him in response. His hands moved to grasp your hips, halting your tantalizing movements. “You have to say it; I have to hear you say it.”

Your skin flushed a deeper shade of red at the prospect of voicing your desire, of telling Aaron all the places you wanted him to touch you, all the ways you wanted him to take you. 

“Aaron…” you murmured, your heart racing - a ceaseless, unrelenting cadence against your ribcage. You were sure - one hundred percent certain - that you wanted this, that you wanted him to be your first. But, then, there it was… that small, nettlesome flicker of hesitation that kept you from speaking your wants and needs into existence. 

Aaron - damn him and his profiling abilities - caught your hesitation, his grip on you relaxing, his brows furrowing in rumination. “We’re not going to do anything you don’t want to,” the man affirmed, his eyes boring into yours. “If this is too much, too soon… if you want to stop, just say the word. Nothing has to happen tonight.”

“And if I don’t want to stop?”

“We’ll move at your pace,” Aaron promised, face relaxing. “Whatever you want, whenever you want it - it’s yours.” 

His words - the confirmation that this moment was yours, that every passing second and miniscule action would be tailored to your wants and needs… it smothered that flicker of hesitation. 

His words were your green light. 

You bent down, capturing Aaron’s lips in a heated kiss. He tasted like the cheap red wine you had picked up from the convenience store - the wine itself was far too bitter for your liking, though it tasted satisfyingly sweet on his tongue. 

You were an addict. You could kiss him forever, you could lose yourself in everything that was him. 

Your hands left his shoulders, trailing over his chest and stopping at the waistband of his slacks. Your fingertips dipped beneath the waistband as you flirted with the idea of freeing his cock from its confines, delighting in the feeling of Aaron’s teasing smile against your lips.

“I want you,” you admitted, quiet, pleading. “Now. Please.”

Aaron gripped your hips tighter, his fingers digging into your bare flesh as he pulled you further against him. “Take what you want,” he implored. “You’re in control.”

[lustlovehart]

Soft Clipped Feathers

A/n: Really Self-Indulgent for Sundays realese today.

Pairing: Sunday x Reader

Summary: You’ve grown tired of staying in the hidden nest that is Sundays arms, yet you can’t bring yourself to really leave that comfort. So, you do the only thing that can alleviate this want, use Sundays infatuation for yourself. (1.3k words)

Warnings: [Yandere], Possesion, Manipulation, Implied NSFW & Suggestive, Reader lowkey plays with Sunday (And it backfires LMAO), Themes of codependency, Sunday and Reader get filthy? Very unholy you two, Tiny (Big) obsession from Sunday, Uhm they make out on the floor?? Idk if that needs a tag

There’s a certain petulance in the room you sit in. Stained windows filled with colorful sectors, unify into a beautiful image of a Dove… falling victim to the hunter who sang false truths in its flight of freedom.

“You’ve been staring at the window for quite some time.” The man who claims himself to be the representation of the holiest of days, speaks into the once-relaxing silence of the room. He displays himself as a savior, yet you know better than to trust hunters, they’ve always believed their prey to be the lone sustenance for their fortune. “It’s lovely isn’t it?”

“Not really. I just don’t feel like looking at a man flaunting his feathers.”

“You liked when that IPC worker did. Did you not?” Sunday takes a step closer, to the wooden bench you rest on, his gloved hand caressing your skin. He traces up your arm, thumb ghosting your lips, bestowing a gentle tap on your mouth. It’s akin to a kiss really, if you could count it.

It doesn’t matter though, you’ve kissed plenty of times, and it makes no difference whether you do it with or without clothes. Though, the remembrance makes you shudder. Fingers dancing on your skin, blankets surrounding your intertwined bodies. A romantic scene really, if it weren’t for the fact you imagined the cool cruel silver, to be a chilling night in penacony.

“No, that was just jealousy blinding you, Sunday.” The man pulls away, his wings fluttering ever so slightly.

“Jealousy is the trait of men with no virtues, inharmonious men.” He speaks the word inharmonious, like treason.

“Well, it seems this room is filled with impropriety then hm?” You lean further into the mahogany, hoping somehow, someway, the wood will take liquid form and drown you. Yet you know it won’t. A trio of buttons undo on your blouse from the action, Sunday watching with great intent.

A majority of your chest is now on full display, to Sunday and each piece of art in the room. The eyes in the stained glass, those sculpted pupils of those statues, yet the only gaze you feel is his. Halovian eyes dilate at the sight, he’s quick to look into your eyes when you notice his entrance.

The garment was far too tight on you, but you had no urge to change out of it. Perhaps an unconscious act of rebellion to Sundays put together attire, perfectly fitting his form.

“Your clothes are astray.” He points out the detail as if you didn’t know. You don’t have the chance to reply before you feel Sunday nudge his way into your spot on the bench, towering over you as gloved fingers quickly work to redo the buttons. “Still, it would be dishonorable, for you, if someone saw you this way.” He emphasizes the ‘for you’ as if you cared.

You clasp your hands around his, effectively pausing his movements. He inhales when you pull him down, wind rushing through his hair. This adrenaline is further ensued, when the only thing stopping him from touching bare skin, is the cloth he’s attempting to redo.

In truth, this is the only way you feel to have any control of your fate. His affections for you are wide, yet narrow too. Wide in a way you can feel yourself drown in this so-called adoration, but narrow to a point you could never fully move through it. The rare moments you have with him, where you have him in a cage, is when you entangle him in the love he sought from you so deeply.

Though, this cage will always be unlocked for a free bird like him. But for you, you’ll forever be doomed to roam on the floor, those soft feathers of yours, clipped to never breathe air again.

“If someone saw us like this, that would only solidify what you want.” Your voice is low, warm air blowing on Sunday's neck. His knee is placed between your legs, his elbow being the sole pillar from his ravish on your being. His eyes trail between your eyes and your lips, those golden optics widening when you suddenly lean up.

Now you’re truly testing a man of virtue. A dangerous endeavor indeed.

“What do you plan to do?” His question doesn’t match the look in his eyes, you should know, his eyes are centimeters from yours, and so are your lips. The wings from his head flutter down, gentle feathers caressing your skin; successfully covering the visage of your surroundings.

All that’s left to see is Sunday.

“Do you plan to do this, and go to sleep satisfied at testing my countenance?” You don’t answer him, yet again, he didn’t want a reply. “Or will you finally change your ways? As you’ve promised at confessional time and time again.”

Oh, he knew that was you?

“Sunday—” you’re cut short when a kiss is delegated on your temple, any retort dying immediately at his placating.

“It’s okay, I’ll forgive you,” His arm falls to brush your cheek, the leather from his glove squeaking at the movement. “As long as you listen.” he stops talking after the final sentence, only softly gazing into your eyes. It’s uncomfortable, and piercing. It’s a strikingly familiar gaze to that of a husband, which Sunday is anything but.

“You…” Your words are strained, it’s a pain to face the reality you willingly put yourself into with him. “Sunday…” You grit your teeth, roughly pushing Sunday to the marble floor, bodies falling in unison.

Once again, you’re left in the only position you feel comfortable, making Sunday fall victim to your charms. At this point. Your shirt has already fallen down your shoulder, and your back is on cold flooring.

You take a deep breath in, before enacting your act of rebellion to this so-called man of virtue. You shall strip this room of its purity. But, to be transparent…

There’s no purity left in this room, for it’s not a beautiful art gallery of glass and statues. It’s the home you’ve always lived in. It’s the cruelest joke of all, you have the freedom to go where you wish, but you don’t, you stay.

“This world isn’t kind,” Sunday kisses your palm as he lays his head on your chest, the soft beating of your heart turning his own. “Wait until I’ve made it so.” You’re not sure what he means, but you nod… at the time.

Maybe it’s because of his words, or maybe simply fear for the unkind world he speaks of. Sometimes, you wish for a reality where you step into this cruel world, only then do hatchlings grow strength in their wings.

Now though, wings that have been clipped, have no chance of regaining that opportunity.

In one motion, you take his handsome face into your palms, pulling him roughly to your lips, his own hands finding refuge on your waist, pulling you down into him. It’s filthy and self-indulgent, but all you can do.

When you disconnect to breathe, a trail of saliva connects your lips, a reminder of the everbinding hold he has on you. If you think positively, it could also refer to how deep this infatuation with you, has implemented itself into Sunday's core.

Maybe the simple sight of you, reminds Sunday what it is he strives to do in reality, create a sanctuary of peace. Not you though, he’s the only one allowed to feel your comfort.

You dive back in, ready to drown in the essence that is harmony, through his lips.

…

You wake up to the colorful sight of stained glass, the same sight of a Dove and a hunter invading your pupils. There’s something different though.

There’s a hole in place of the Dove's heart, the window shattered, but only in that sole spot.

The blanket draped over you slides off as you leave the marble platform, but you’re stopped when a firm forearm wraps around your waist, effectively pulling you back. You look back at the perpetrator with a glare.

“Sunday, you’re a man of manners, you’ll be late for… whatever you have going on today.” it’s a pathetic attempt to get him off. Of course it doesn’t work.

“You’re right, but I won’t be late.” you continue to stare at the image, only vaguely listening to Sunday's words.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?" Considering it’s only the morning after…. what you’ve done, your urge to be spiteful isn’t as strong as yesterdays. You wish that wasn’t so.

“You’re coming with me.” He says it so softly, it doesn’t register completely in your mind. But when it does, you wonder if the dove was attempting to warn you.

“You’re… Making me leave…?” You turn around, facing the man that continues to lay next to you.

“No, I’m making you stay, with me.”

…

It seems you’re no longer a bird with freedom to walk anywhere you want anymore either. You’re left flightless, and freedomless.

But…

“I see…” You don’t fight, not like he expected you to do. Not like… you expected to do so either. You lie back down, burying yourself into the blanket with him, burying yourself into Sunday. His arms surround you in a warm embrace.

Maybe it’s your own fault for flying into this hunters trap, with your own free will.

Hahaha, please come him with my 0 pity and 80 pulls Mr.Sunday :). Alsooo, I hope this is good, because, confession… I haven’t finished the penacony quest, only the first one 😬

[jj-one]

PRESS PLAY !

your boyfriend Jungkook convinces you to make a sextape with him, ultimately ending up with you getting wrecked on camera.

pairing: bf!Jungkook x gf!reader genre/tags: pwp (plot is barely there), smut, piv, unprotected sex, dom!jungkook/sub!reader, manhandling, daddy kink?, there is absolutely nothing holy about this fic… read at your own risk that’s all i’m gonna say tbh words: 3.0k

[note] if you remember seeing this before yes i’m the original author i didn’t plagiarize lol, i made a new blog and was formerly known as @milkychae but deleted a while ago. i’ll be reposting all my old deleted fics and using this as an archive !

Jungkook checks himself out in the mirror one last time, threading his fingers through his thick, silky hair before hitting the record button to start filming.

He had the camera set up on a tripod placed in front of the bed, flashing you a soft smile. You couldn’t stop ogling his divine features, he looked so damn good. His messy jet-black hair swept the sides of his face and was only in a pair of white Calvin Klein boxers. He just looks like pure heaven, unable to keep yourself contained as you sneak glances at his nicely toned, heavily tattooed body. You can literally stare at his beautiful sculpted abs all day, he was the true definition of perfection.

‘How’d I get so lucky to have the hottest boyfriend alive?’ You often thought to yourself.

“M’kay, ready babe?” Jungkook asks reassuringly, he knows you’re excited to do this just as much as he is.

You nod your head “mhm, was born ready!” He chuckles at your cuteness, pressing the little red ‘record’ button on his camera.

Once the camera begins rolling Jungkook wastes no time to spring into action, turning towards you to cup your face in his large hands. He kisses you hungrily, causing you to moan ever so slightly into him, without breaking the kiss you both land onto the bed— he’s hovering over your frame providing light touches to your thigh. You were enjoying every minute of this so far, never getting enough of the sweet taste of him. Pulling away for a second, he grabs ahold of your neck, keeping you in place while his free hand roam all over your upper body. He presses wet kisses to your jaw and chin, then comes back up to kiss your pretty lips once again, making the kiss grow sloppier and heavier. A string of Jungkook’s saliva forms when he momentarily detaches hisself from your lips, smiling down at you. It was more of a devilish smile though, a smile that looks like he was going to snatch the soul out of your body. You two play around on the bed for a bit, passionately kissing and enjoying each other’s presence.

“Come here baby,” Jungkook says, instructing you to get on top of him now, positioning himself behind one of the fluffy pillows on the bed. You do exactly as you’re told and get on his lap to straddle him, he grabs your face with his left hand to kiss you some more while rubbing your ass, harshly slapping it in the process. You wore the tiniest pink micro skirt with bows on the side, it was a mesh material and super see through. Jungkook loved the outfit you were wearing since it was a tiny two-piece crop top and skirt, adoring the curves and shape of your body in the least bit of clothing possible. Slowly lifting up your skirt now, he licks his lips when looking down at your bare pussy, teasing your entrance with his tatted fingers. You quietly gasp as he rubs your soaked folds in an up and down, slow motion, making you subconsciously twitch from sensitivity.

“My god.. you’re so fucking wet babygirl,” Jungkook groaned as he slid two fingers inside, “look how much you’re dripping already babe.” he whispers, staring in awe at his fingers disappearing into your sweet cunt. The room’s filled with only sounds of your wetness, combined with the soft moans you utter, all the juices dripping down your legs and his thumb brushing over your clit was having you see stars.

“You hear that? That’s what good pussy’s supposed to sound like,” Jungkook brags while looking over at the camera, he’s taking this very serious, as if you’re going to end up posting this on PornHub or something. You loved it though and you can tell how into this he is, which only makes you want to do a better job at pleasing him. You moaned louder for him as his fingers go deeper into you, reaching those spots that you never could. Rolling your eyes back as he fingers you harder, he was soaked in your juices, obsessed with the view behold him. You match the movements of his pace, grinding against his digits whilst he reaches a certain spongy spot— feeling so close to cumming already.

Then he abruptly took his fingers out of your dripping cunt, denying you of your orgasm. You whined loudly, clenching again just to feel something, wanting more of him filling you up at this very moment. You childishly pout and beg for more, but he just shushes you and flashes a smirk at your whininess. “Don’t worry sweet pea, m’gonna give you exactly what you need..” Jungkook rasps, still staring down at your cute pussy, but this time spreading your lips apart. He ran his finger down to your clit once again to gently rub in circles, making it even more puffy and swollen. Basking in all your beauty as you threw your head back from the intense pleasure.

“Wanna taste you,” Jungkook’s voice almost sounds desperate, not wanting to waste another second. “Come sit on my face babydoll,” he motions for you to temporarily get off of him, lying down on the bed, requesting that you still keep your skirt on. Placing yourself onto him and comfortably sit on his face, his mouth attaches to your pussy quicker than you can form a thought, already ferociously sucking on your clit. His hands went straight to your ass, slapping each cheek every chance he could, forming blatant red hand prints on your butt.

Jungkook was eating you out like his life was depending on it, uncontrollably moaning his name over and over again. You were in a frenzy as you grind on his face, grabbing the top of his head as if he was able to even go anywhere, his face was quite literally glued to your pussy. Jungkook kept at it for what felt like hours, your juices leaking all over his face without a care in the world. Then all of a sudden you felt this weird sensation, something you’ve never experienced before. It was the same slimy sensation that was all too familiar, but just in a different hole instead. Jungkook was licking your ass, his tongue kept flicking it at first, but now he’s fully immersed into it. He’s never done this to you before but it felt so amazing, it felt just as good as him eating you out but had a distinctly different feel to it.

“You like it baby?” He asks when pulling his tongue away, replacing it with his fingers. His fingers go so deep in your little hole making you squeal out loud.

“Mmm… yes daddy, I do!” A string of moans escape you, sounding so pretty that it’s like music to Jungkook’s ears. Smirking up at you while his digits continue going in and out of your ass, planting a quick kiss to your pussy.

“Fuck, I love you so much my love,” even during moments like these, Jungkook still reminded you how much he adores you, going back to licking your sensitive clit while still fingering your ass. You were in utopia, lost in the magical feeling of his tongue and fingers doing wonders on you. Jungkook could totally be a pornstar if he wanted to, he had the looks, the skill, and stamina.

“I love you so much kookie..” you mewl, closing your eyes from how intense all of this was. You can feel your release coming any minute and you only got louder for him, grabbing the strands of his hair, gripping it with everything you had. You were riding his face like a rodeo and he was more than here for it, his tongue never letting up on your clit. When he dragged a long stripe across your heat, that was all it took for you to cum all over his face. Slowing down your pace as you finally chase your high, smothering Jungkook with your creamy, juicy pussy.

“Goddamn babe, you made such a mess.” Jungkook grunts out when releasing you from his grasp, his face completely drenched with your juices. You come down from being on top and lower yourself to kiss his wet lips, getting a taste of you on his tongue.

Jungkook tells you to get up and stand directly in front of the camera, you immediately follow his orders. He makes his way over to you, ordering you again to get on your knees in a stern tone. Situating yourself down onto the floor, you pull his boxers down and his cock springs out freely from it’s barriers. Making steady eye contact with the camera while grabbing his thick, lengthy cock, the tip was so red and puffy, precum leaking out to make you even more hungry for him. You wasted zero time in filling your mouth with Jungkook’s cock, it felt so warm against your tongue, loving the prominent veins that would show when he was extra hard. You start taking in his length and getting a good rhythm going, bobbing your head up and down. Jungkook winces at the sensation, taking a fistful of your hair and slamming the entirety of his cock into your mouth. His length hits the back of your throat, coming into contact with your uvula, causing you to make a sudden gagging noise. The drool peeking out from the corners of your mouth becoming more apparent as he fucks your pretty mouth.

“You have the best lips for giving head babe,” Jungkook coos while sighing out and throwing his head back, “your mouth is so fucking good to me…” He couldn’t stop praising you, you were like an angel to him. An innocent angel that was only a freak for him. Jungkook starts to get a little rougher with you, forcefully pushing his cock even further down your throat, causing you to choke for real this time.

“Yeah just like that baby, choke on it,” he strokes your hair out the way to get a better look at you. He thrives off taking control of you, see how far he can push you, he knows you can handle it though, he does it out of pure love. “Like being stuffed with a mouthful of my cock, hm?”

“You’re such a dirty fucking slut, look at you,” Jungkook continues degrading you, “sucking my dick on camera like the filthy whore you are.”

You keep on sucking his cock as you look him in the eyes, the words he’s saying right now is all you need to hear for you to become even more of a dripping mess. Your wetness is only growing and it’s starting to spill onto the floor, oh how embarrassing…

Jungkook’s cock was buried deep inside your mouth, managing to fit all of him without gagging anymore. He’s trained you so well over the years it doesn’t take much warming up for all of him to settle in perfectly, it’s like it was made specifically for you. You stay like this for a while, feeling his fat cock throbbing in your mouth as you gaze up at his gorgeous face through your lashes, appreciating how much you admire him. You’d honestly do anything to make him happy. After awhile, you release him from your mouth and go straight to his balls, sucking them up like a vacuum. Jungkook moans out so violently that you think the neighbors could probably hear that one, your eyes grew wide as you didn’t expect him to be so vocal from that. Seeing the biggest smile etched on your boyfriend’s face.

“Shit.. you’re so good at that baby,” he compliments you again, holding the back of your head for dear life. You could suck him off for hours without ever getting tired of it.

He pulls you away from him, telling you to get back on the bed and to bend over with your ass facing up. You do so without hesitation and begin arching, ready for him to do whatever he wants. He proceeds to spread your pussy lips again, as if earlier wasn’t enough already, he dips his tongue back into your soaking wet heat. Your mouth goes agape, barely able to make a sound, only letting out a small moan as he continues, spitting a little on your slit and rubbing it in. He eats you out again while you look back at the camera, whimpering when he squeezes your left ass cheek and gives it a harsh slap. You whimper from all the stimulation, body vibrating as he chuckles at how adorable you are.

“Your pussy tastes so fucking good,” Jungkook is so obsessed with you, but it’s a mutual obsession amongst each other. He took a short break away from your wetness, “you don’t know what you do to me y/n.”

All you could do in that moment was moan like crazy, he was making you feel astronomically good. He licked a couple more languid stripes across your slit and gave it a little slap once he was done. Lifting his head up, he’s finally going to do what he’s been waiting for this entire time. He rubs your ass with one hand while stroking his cock for a little bit with the other, bringing the tip to the entrance of your slit and teasing your hole. His dick slipping in between your wet folds is driving you insane, making you want to just slide it in already.

“C’mon Koo, fuck me alreadyyy.” You were practically begging for him to stuff you at this point, wiggling your ass against him, wanting nothing more than to be filled up by him and only him.

“Alright babe damn, always so eager for me,” he groans as he starts pushing his cock inside of you now.

A broken moan escapes from your lips as you’re feeling him slowly opening you up, your tightness already adjusting to his girth. He began fucking you from behind at a rough pace, giving you exactly what you needed the most. Jungkook grabs your neck once again and brings your back towards his chest, saying all types of dirty, sinful things in your ear while he relentlessly fucks you, slamming his cock in and out of you making you go delirious. Practically shoving his hard length into you, you couldn’t help but scream out in pure ecstasy. His cock felt was the best thing on earth and the more he slammed into you the more you didn’t want it to ever be over.

He was so big you could feel his cock in your stomach, all your insides were being rearranged by him. Your ass was jiggling on his cock so nicely, giving him an absolutely stunning view. Firmly settling your face back into the pillows again, while looking down at your ass he grabs your waist firmly with one hand, the other being on your right butt cheek which was severely bruised from him spanking you earlier. You were so beyond soaking wet that the only noises filling up the room were the gushy sounds of your wetness and the ceaseless thrusts of Jungkook’s cock going deeper in you than ever before.

“Just wanna fill up your tight pussy with all my cum…” Jungkook coos, sounding so pussydrunk from all the pleasure he’s feeling right now. “Show me how desperately you want my cum inside you,” he keeps going, urging you to give him more of a reaction, probably since you’re both on camera.

“Mmm… yes daddy, need you to fill me up and make your cumslut pleasee,” you beg for him to continue fucking you, bouncing back on his cock and making him growl. You wanted him to feel like he was on top of the world, like you were a drug and the only cure for his addiction was your pussy. He keeps thrusting into you erratically, his strokes getting messier and sloppier as he soon reaches his climax.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh fuckk—“ Jungkook belts out a string of curses as he fucks your tight cunt, “m’gonna fucking cum babe… so close..” he grips onto your waist tighter, indefinitely picking up his pace as he starts to see flashes of white invade his vision. He was fucking into you so hard and fast that you couldn’t think or speak coherently anymore, just saying random words and babbling the entire time.

“Jungkook I love you, I love you so much..” was all you were able to say, to which he replies with “I love you more” and continues fucking you from behind like the rent is due. Your eyes were permanently at the back of your head as you were absorbed in the utmost pleasure. Jungkook’s hand reaches over to rub your clit as he proceeds to hit all the right spots inside you, his cock felt so good, everything just feels otherworldly to you right now.

“Ah! Cumming babe, gonna cum—“ Jungkook lets out the deepest groan as he shoots his load inside your warmth, “Oh my god, fuck yes…” he felt like he was on cloud nine, thrusting into you with slowed movements while coating your walls with his thick hot cum. You contract around him, soon reaching your climax right after him, both of your releases mixing together inside of you.

Once he pulls out, you were bodies intertwined with one another again, forgetting all about the camera that was still rolling. You aggressively kiss him, tongues mingling together as if you’re trying to swallow each other’s existence. You took a glance at the camera, checking the time on the screen to see that it’s been going on for almost an hour and thirty minutes now… Jungkook pulls away, noticing you looking at the camera, leaving for a quick second to finally turn it off. He faces back in your direction and presents you with the warmest smile, looking down at your thighs and eyeing the creamy mess that’s dripped down between your legs.

“Let’s get you all cleaned up huh darling?” Jungkook cutely offers, gently kissing your cheek. His big boba ball eyes were staring right into your soul with nothing but admiration and love for you. The duality of his actions were almost surreal, he just fucked you like the devil reincarnated but then acts like the sweetest angel once it’s all over. You’ve always adored that special quality about your boyfriend.

[leirastar]

new world | chapter 1

Pairing: Ot8 Ateez x reader AU: fantasy AU | stranger -> mates Summary: A tragic accident left you unable to use your wings and, with that, claimed your father's life, leaving you in the care of your noble uncle. In Hala, a house of eight kingdoms, each boasting its own wonders, you never imagined that amidst the pain, you would also fall—this time, in love. Word Count: 4.2k | 18 minutes Warning: blood/injury, violence (mentions of fighting), medical procedures. poisons, storm

The sun hung low in the sky, painting the field in muted hues of gold and green as a chill crept through the air. You knelt amidst the tall grass, your nimble fingers carefully plucking fragrant herbs from the earth.

The air, sharp and brisk, carried a chill that hinted at an approaching storm.

Humming softly to yourself, you tightened your coat around your shoulders and pulled your cape closer, shielding yourself from the biting wind. Your basket was half-filled with herbs you had carefully selected—lavender for calming teas, chamomile for soothing salves, and a few sprigs of arnica for your uncle’s pain medicine. The breeze carried the sweet scent of the harvest as it rustled the wildflowers around you, though now the wind's sharper edge made your hands move faster.

The day, though peaceful, had taken on a sense of urgency. You couldn’t help but notice the gentle rustling of the wind seemed louder now, almost ominous as the skies darkened in the distance.

Satisfied with your haul, you stood, brushing dirt from your hands and skirt. Hefting your now-overfilled basket, you began the familiar walk home. The chill made your steps quicken as you hummed a soft tune as the village rooftops coming into view through the gathering gloom.

You resided on the town's far outskirts, away from the bustling markets and vibrant city lights, and close to the east border of Caius. It was a short walk, no more than ten minutes, but the icy gusts and the scent of rain in the air made it feel longer. As the smell of distant cooking fires greeted you, a comforting reminder of the simple life you cherished, you cast a wary glance at the clouds above, quickening your pace to reach the safety of home before the storm arrived.

But as you neared your small cottage, something felt...off.

The front door was ajar, its hinges creaking slightly in the breeze.

You paused.

You knew you had closed it.

Heart pounding, you set your basket on the steps. Your finger closed around your herb knife to calm your anxiety as a mean of protection. From inside came the sound of something crashing to the floor, followed by a muffled grunt. Your heart raced as you pressed your hand against the doorframe, leaning just enough to peek inside.

The sight made you gasp.

A man was slumped against your kitchen table, his dark clothing torn and stained crimson with blood. His breathing was ragged, his face pale and slick with sweat. Broken pottery lay scattered on the floor near his feet, evidence of his struggle to stay upright.

Albeit the pain that contorted his face, he was undeniably beautiful, as though the gods themselves had sculpted him. Shaking off the fleeting daydream, you steadied yourself and pointed your knife toward the stranger, your grip firm despite the rapid beat of your heart.

“Who—who are you?” you demanded, stepping fully into the room.

The man's head snapped up at your voice, his sharp eyes narrowing despite the pale exhaustion pulling at his features. Pain was etched into every line of his face, but it did nothing to dull the rigid posture he held, a silent, almost haughty declaration that he refused to surrender to his circumstances.

“I—” He winced, his hand pressing firmly against the gash at his side, blood seeping between his fingers. “I didn’t mean to intrude.” His voice was low, steady despite the strain, with an edge of reluctant apology—one that came as though it pained him to admit he might need help.

“I’ll be gone as soon as I… catch my breath.”

Even now, weakened and injured, he carried himself with a quiet dignity, as though he were more offended by his situation than the injury itself. There was no demand for pity, no pleading in his tone—only the undeniable weight of a man who was unused to seeking aid and found the very act distasteful.

You hesitated, your grip on the knife tightening. There was something about him that felt dangerous—his strong, lean frame and the way he held himself, even in pain, spoke of someone used to commanding attention. But there was also vulnerability in his gaze, a desperation that softened your wariness.

“You’re hurt,” your voice firm but calm, setting the knife on the counter but keeping it within reach.

His jaw tightened, as though bracing himself against the sting of his pride. “I’ll manage,” he muttered, but the slight tremor in his stance betrayed him. The stubbornness in his tone didn’t match the pallor of his face or the faint, uneven breaths he tried to suppress.

You sighed, exasperated but unmoved. His stubbornness didn’t surprise you. It was written in his posture, in the hard line of his mouth, in the way he refused to meet your gaze.

“Well, you’re doing a poor job of it,” you shot back, sharper this time.

That caught his attention. His gaze snapped to you, dark and piercing, as though offended by your audacity. For a moment, silence stretched between you, but gaze flickered there, almost reluctant amusement. His lips pressed into a thin line as though trying to decide whether to fight you on this or accept the inevitable.

“I don’t… need your help,” he said stiffly, though his voice wavered just slightly as his strength faltered.

“And yet you’re bleeding all over my table,” you countered, your tone calm but firm. “Please, sit down. You’re only making it worse.”

His eyes warred visibly against your words, his hand tightening into a fist where it gripped the edge of the table. Finally, with a reluctant sigh, he muttered, “This is… unnecessary.”

“It’s necessary if you want to survive,” you replied, already moving to his side.

When you slid an arm under his, he stiffened, his body going rigid as though the very act of being supported grated against him.

“I can walk,” he grumbled.

“You can barely stand,” you replied dryly, guiding him carefully toward your bedroom. His weight pressed against you for only a moment before he forced himself to stand taller, his stubborn pride refusing to let him lean on you more than absolutely necessary.

Easing him down onto the edge of the bed. His shoulders stiffened as if being placed there was yet another blow to his pride, but he didn’t protest.

“I’m… sorry for the intrusion,” he said again, his tone quieter this time, as though apologizing was both foreign and uncomfortable. “It wasn’t my intention.”

“Apology accepted. You’ll be better off lying down,” you said, your voice steady despite the flurry of nerves coursing through you.

He exhaled sharply, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the mattress. “I don’t need—”

“Stop talking,” you cut in firmly, kneeling beside him. “You do need help, whether you like it or not.”

He glared at you for a moment, though the fire in his gaze was dimmed by exhaustion. “Stubborn woman,” he muttered under his breath, though there was no real malice in his tone.

“And you’re not exactly a model of reason yourself,” you replied.

Stepping back briefly, you crossed the room to close the windows, the glass panes rattling faintly from the wind outside. The storm was growing, the wind howling as it clawed at the shutters, and you latched them firmly to keep the cold at bay. The room immediately felt quieter, warmer, though the tension lingering between you and the man remained palpable.

You quickly gathered supplies: clean linen strips for bandages, a basin of water, and a flask of pain medicine from the nearby cupboard, you turned to him, your eyes scanning his pale, sweat-drenched face.

"I need to see the wound," you instructed gently. He hesitated, then nodded, removing his hand to reveal a deep gash.

Your breath hitched.

The gash was deep, inflamed, and stained with a purple sheen. You sighed softly, this is not an ordinary wound.

“This will hurt,” you warned, dipping a clean cloth into a mixture of strong wine and vinegar, the sharp tang filling the air. Carefully, you began to cleanse the wound. He winced, a sharp breath hissing through his teeth, but his silence held.

Once satisfied, you reached for the flask of pain medicine. “Here,” you said firmly, holding it out to him. “Drink this. It’ll help.”

He eyed it with suspicion, his pride flaring visibly as though the very idea of accepting medicine offended him. “What is it?”

“Something to keep you alive,” you said flatly, pushing the flask closer. “Stop questioning everything and drink.”

Reluctantly, he took a small sip, grimacing slightly as the bitter taste settled on his tongue. After another swallow, his shoulders eased, the tension in his posture slowly melting as the medicine began to dull the sharp edge of his pain.

Placing the flask next to the bed, you reached out instinctively, placing a hand over his to offer quiet comfort. It was a small, unthinking gesture—one you often did for your uncle’s patients.

But the moment your hand touched his, his eyes snapped open, and for the briefest moment, they glowed vivid blue. A faint luminescence bloomed across his forehead, like the trace of some ancient mark, and you gasped softly, your heart stuttering.

Startled, you glanced toward the window just as a flash of lightning lit the room, the storm raging outside. You told yourself it was the storm’s light playing tricks on your eyes. It had to be.

But when you looked back, his eyes had returned to their original goldish-brown hue, the glow vanished as though it had never been. He was staring at you now—his expression unreadable, though softer, almost hesitant.

“What… was that?” you whispered, withdrawing your hand quickly.

He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. Whatever walls he had erected earlier now seemed to falter, as though something in that brief exchange had shifted. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter.

“You’re kind,” he murmured, surprising you. “Far kinder than I deserve.”

The vulnerability in his tone startled you almost as much as the glow had, but you masked it, straightening in your seat. “You’re still a terrible patient,” you replied lightly, though your voice was gentler this time.

After washing your hands, you cleansed the wound with water, then applied a thin layer of honey before covering it with the linen bandages. "This should help prevent infection," you explained.

As you worked, you noticed his features more clearly—sharp jawline, dark hair sticking to his sweat-dampened forehead, and piercing eyes that watched you with a mix of caution and gratitude. He wasn’t a common traveler; his clothes, though damaged, were of fine make, and the insignia on his belt hinted at nobility.

“What happened to you?”

As you peeled back more of his torn shirt, the full extent of his injuries came into view—dark bruises blooming across his ribs and smaller cuts scattered like a map of violence. You furrowed your brows in concern, but your hands remained steady.

“Bandits,” he muttered. “On the road. They... didn’t expect me to fight back.”

You studied him closely, the flicker of doubt plain on your face. You didn’t press him, not yet, but you weren’t a fool. This far from the city, you've never heard of such bandits. The wound, telltale sheen of poison—this wasn’t the work of ordinary bandits.

Still, you asked, “You fought them off?”

He gave a weak, humorless chuckle. “Not well enough, apparently.”

You shook your head, setting to work cleaning the wound. “You’re lucky you made it here. Another hour, and this might have turned fatal.”

“I suppose I am,” he muttered, his gaze fixed on you, though the defiance from earlier had softened to something quieter. Something thoughtful.

For the first time, he seemed to regard you not as an inconvenience or an intrusion but as someone who had saved his life. His expression was still guarded, but the edges of it had shifted—less sharp, more yielding.

“Why were you traveling alone?”

He hesitated, as if debating how much to reveal. Finally, he said, “I was trying to avoid... attention.”

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. “Well, you’ve certainly gotten mine.”

For the first time, a small, tired smile tugged at his lips. “Lucky me.”

You huffed, securing the bandage with perhaps more force than necessary. “You’re far too stubborn for your own good,” you added, brushing your hands off and rising to fetch a fresh cloth.

His tired smile lingered faintly. “Takes one to know one.”

You shot him a look over your shoulder. “I wouldn’t call saving your life stubborn. Sensible, maybe.”

He exhaled a soft huff, something between amusement and exhaustion. “Sensible,” he repeated quietly, as though testing the word on his tongue.

As you laid a damp cloth on his fevered forehead, his gaze tracked your movements—sharp but softened, no longer the cold and aloof glint from earlier. There was something new there now, as if he were seeing you through fresh eyes.

“You’re skilled,” he remarked, his voice quieter, more measured.

“I’ve had practice,” you replied simply, brushing the damp cloth lightly over his brow.

As you observed him resting on the bed, your attention shifted to his tattered, bloodstained coat draped loosely over his shoulders. The fine wool and intricate stitching caught your eye—unmistakable signs of noble craftsmanship, the kind of attire far beyond the means of a mortal Aetherions.

“Your clothes are dirty,” you remarked, crossing the room to fetch clean garments. You hesitated for only a moment before offering them. “I have, um, clothes you can use.”

His cold gaze glanced at the garments, then back at you, his expression clouded with an emotion you couldn't quite identify.

"Your lover's or something?" he asked, his voice laced with something unreadable—disapproval, maybe, or curiosity.

"Or something," you replied, maintaining composure.

"I'll help you."

“I can manage on my own,” he muttered instinctively, pride flaring again like a reflex.

“You’ll tear open the bandage if you try,” you replied firmly, setting the clothes on the cot beside him.

For a moment, it looked as though he’d refuse outright, his pride warring with the exhaustion tugging at him. But then, as though resigning to his limits, he gave you a slow, reluctant nod.

“Fine,” he muttered.

You approached carefully, your hands steady as you helped him remove the soiled coat. Beneath the dirt and blood, the fabric was rich, its quality unmistakable—a silent confirmation of his noble status. You discarded it into the enchanted basin at the corner of the room, where water rippled and swirled, magic working to cleanse the garment, a convenient aid in your otherwise rustic setting.

The act of dressing him felt oddly intimate. You tried to remain professional, your movements efficient and practiced, yet you couldn’t ignore the way his skin, warm and solid beneath your fingertips, sent faint sparks fluttering through you.

The tension in the room seemed to shift, subtle but undeniable. It seems that the spark however, not only resolve to you but to the man in front of you. His breathing slowed, a low, almost imperceptible sound escaping him—a contented hum.

You glanced up just in time to catch the faint dilation of his pupils, his golden-brown eyes softening as they met yours-you surmised he felt the same feather-light sensations that danced across your skin.

He nodded slightly, feeling content, His eyes, already heavy with exhaustion, drifted closed.

"You'd better get some sleep, my lord. You need the rest," you advised, pulling the blanket up over him.

As you turned away, his hand shot out at the last moment, catching yours in a gentle grasp. his voice barely above a whisper.

"Stay."

His voice barely above a whisper but enough to root you in place. A shiver traced your spine, feather-light but persistent.

What is this?

Your breath caught. He was already half-asleep, his hold loose but firm enough to keep you there. Slowly, you sank to the floor beside the cot, your hand still cradled in his as his breathing deepened.

As the storm continued to rage outside, you sat in silence, watching him drift into a fitful sleep,. The quiet hum of his breath filled the room, a stark contrast to the battle-worn pride and defiance you had seen earlier. Now, in sleep, he seemed almost fragile—something you doubted he’d allow anyone else to witness.

A peculiar sensation washed over you as you sat there—an electric and feather-light touches across your skin. You glanced around, startled, blaming the chill in the air or perhaps lingering adrenaline from the unexpected encounter.

As the storm continued its relentless howl outside, you remained by his side, his hand still loosely curled around yours. The room was quiet now, save for the soft rhythm of his breathing and the distant patter of rain against the window.

You rested your head against the edge of the bed, the tension of the day finally catching up to you. The warmth of the room and the steady rise and fall of his chest seemed to lull you, exhaustion washing over you like a heavy tide.

Before you knew it, your eyes fluttered closed, and sleep claimed you.

The first light of morning crept through the shutters, rousing you from an unexpectedly deep sleep. Blinking groggily, you took in your surroundings— the familiar wood-paneled walls of your room—and realized you were in your own bed.

A heavy quilt had been draped over your shoulders, and as you slowly sat up, the events of last night came rushing back.

The stranger. The injury. His touch.

Where was he?

Heart skipping a beat, throwing the quilt aside you rose quickly, disoriented. The sound of soft clinking and faint movement drew your attention to the kitchen. Padding toward the sound, you rounded the corner and froze.

There he was, standing by the counter, sleeves rolled up, his tall frame at ease despite the faint signs of exhaustion still etched across his face. He moved with surprising ease preparing something—bread, it seemed, with slices of dried fruit laid out neatly beside it.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” you said, your voice cutting through the quiet. He turned, his expression calm but faintly amused.

“I’ve rested enough,” he replied, his tone steady.

You crossed your arms, arching an eyebrow. “Resting in my bed apparently wasn’t enough. How did you even manage to get me there?”

He smirked faintly, gesturing to his side. “ You’re not as heavy as you think.”

Rolling your eyes, you moved to rekindle the fire, the faint flicker of flames crackling to life. “You should have stayed put. You’ll tear your wound open again.”

“And leave you sleeping on the floor?” he countered smoothly. “That wouldn’t be very polite, would it?”

The wit in his tone caught you off guard, and despite yourself, a quiet chuckle escaped. “Well, you didn’t give me much choice last night. You’d have bled out on my floor.”

“Fair,” he admitted with a faint smile, leaning against the counter.

As the tea brewed, the fragrant aroma filling the air, you placed two cups on the table and motioned for him to sit. He hesitated momentarily, then complied, easing into the chair with a grace that seemed almost practiced.

As you poured the steaming liquid into a mug, you stepped closer to hand it to him. The motion brought you near enough to catch his scent, and it stopped you in your tracks.

Crisp and refreshing, it carried the essence of ice and snow with a subtle hint of salt. It was a scent unlike any you’d known—both ethereal and grounding at once.

For a moment, the room felt smaller, the space between you almost suffocating. He took the mug from your outstretched hand, his fingers brushing against yours briefly-another fluttering feeling surfaced in the base of your heart. His gaze, steady and unreadable, held yours for a beat longer than necessary before he broke the silence.

“I must apologize for imposing upon you," he said after a while, his gaze meeting yours. "I had little choice but to seek refuge here."

You shook your head, offering a small smile. “There’s no need for apologies. I’m glad I could help.”

“I never caught your name,” you said as you poured the tea.

“Yunho,” he replied, his tone casual but his gaze studying you carefully.

You nodded, tucking the name away in your thoughts. “Yunho,” you repeated softly. For a brief moment, his golden-brown eyes shimmered faintly—an almost imperceptible flash of vivid blue that made your breath hitch. You blinked, dismissing it as a trick of the light.

“I’m—”

“Y/N.” he interrupted, his lips curling into the faintest smirk.

You tilted your head, surprised. “I don’t remember telling you that.”

He glanced down at his cup, “I… read your name,” he admitted, his tone casual, but something about the way he said it felt carefully chosen. “You left your herb journals open.”

You arched an eyebrow but chose not to press further. “All right, Yunho,” you said after a moment. The two of you settled into a quiet, tranquil morning together.

As the morning light spilled across the room, Yunho finished the last sip of his tea and set the cup down gently. Without a word, he rose and walked toward the door, his steps composed and deliberate. You watched him silently, curiosity swirling within you as he paused, his hand resting on the wooden frame.

“Where are you going?” you asked cautiously, stepping forward.

He stood there for a moment, his gaze distant as though he could see far beyond the village. The faint morning breeze swept through the slightly open door, tousling his dark hair, which fell forward to cover his forehead.

“My lord-”

Before you could finish, a sudden shift filled the air, he shifted his shoulders, and in one fluid motion, his wings unfurled. Rich, indigo feathers stretched wide, filling the space with a quiet, breathtaking power that left you frozen where you stood. Morning light poured through the door, catching the hues of his feathers, making them shimmer like liquid twilight.

Your breath hitched as you stepped forward instinctively. “You’re leaving,” you said, your voice ragged.

Yunho’s expression softened slightly, though his voice carried a firm edge. “It seems I’ve overstayed my welcome. ”

His expression unreadable, “I have matters to attend to.”

“But it’s only been a few hours, my lord,” you protested, your tone pleading. “You should rest.”

He turned slightly, allowing you to glimpse his side where the wound that should still be open was now completely healed. Your breath caught as you stepped closer.

“That’s… impossible,” you whispered, reaching out instinctively, your fingers hovering just above where the bandage had been. “It should still be open.”

“I heal quickly,” he replied, his tone casual, though his posture suggested he was ready to depart. “I really should be leaving.”

You swallowed, the inexplicable weight of his departure sitting heavily in your chest. Acting on impulse, you picked up his robe from the table nearby and stepped closer, gently draping it over his shoulders.

“Wait,” you murmured, your hands lingering for a moment as you adjusted the fabric, your gaze meeting his with unspoken intensity.

The movement brought you closer, your eyes locking with his. The tension between you felt almost tangible, as though the very air crackled with energy.

You couldn’t lie to yourself—it felt good having someone around. Someone who wasn’t family.

It had been so long since you’d shared your space with anyone else, and the quiet presence Yunho brought, despite the questions surrounding him, filled an emptiness you hadn’t known was there.

“You... you don’t have to go yet,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. You weren’t sure what had come over you—only that the thought of him leaving felt strangely unbearable.

His gaze softened, and for a moment, it seemed he might stay. He craned his neck down, his face close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. The soft rhythm of it sent a shiver down your spine, the quiet intimacy of the moment leaving you rooted in place, as though the air between you had become something tangible.

“May I come back, my lady?” he asked, his voice low, almost intimate.

The question sent a shiver through you, and for a heartbeat, you couldn’t find the words. Your grip on his robe tightened for a heartbeat before you let go. Without a word, you gave him a faint nod, a strange feeling settling over you.

His lips curved into the faintest smile as he stepped back, his wings spreading wide once more. The morning light caught the rich indigo of his feathers, casting a glow that made him seem otherworldly. The breeze stirred again, carrying with it the faint, crisp scent of snow and salt.

And then, with one last lingering glance, he was gone, leaving behind the faintest trace of snow in the air and a heart that raced long after he’d disappeared into the sky.

You stood there long after he was gone, the air still tingling with the remnants of his presence. A single indigo feather rested on the floor where he had stood, and as you picked it up, eyeing the indigo feather, you couldn’t help but smile, a quiet warmth settling in your chest.

and already, you found yourself counting the breaths until you would see him again.

Masterlist

Prologue | two

A/n: I wrote 2 draft for this and after a lot of contemplating i've decided on this one. i hope you enjoy it!

Taglist (OPEN):

@pinkpearlstar @deltamoon666 @kyra1205 @hecateslittlewitchling @dumplingsyum @caratiny-latte @seongwars @halloweenbyphoebebridgers @angelqueendom @ffenjoyerdazme @lostxxgirl @xh01bri @neemaxx @furfoxsake22 @Thejentheredhead @soulphoenix1618

[gold-onthe-inside]

wrong person...

who? spencer reid x blake!reader content warnings: reference to an open wound (as a metaphor), kissing, implied sex based on: req. @imagining-in-the-margins wrong recipient prompt (nsfw) - Character sends their friend a detailed review of their recent sexual encounter… and accidentally sends it to the person they’re reviewing - can be xOC word count: 1.5k a/n: it broke my heart having to make penelope the bad gal in this fic, but tbf, my girl can cross boundaries, even with the best intentions. reader is a psychologist and alex's goddaughter, set in s8 (maeve does not exist), after the fifth date. also, slightly tweaked the prompt so it's not necessarily a play-by-play review, but enough to sting. spencer's not the kind that kisses and tells in my book, and i don't feel comfortable writing reader!characters that do.

So, maybe it wasn't an entirely awful idea to let your godmother set you up with her colleague. He's definitely smarter than all your own colleagues combined, and easy to wind up too. In the beginning, it had all been to get Alex off your back, and then you hadn't been able to stop thinking about him all week. You had rules to navigate this stuff, you had refused to get attached until he texted or called you first, and there was a 5th date minimum to invite him in like this. Most days, your heart still felt like an open wound, too many men using you like a plaything, a stepping stone to someone else, but Spencer was different.

You leant on your elbow, always an early riser, the sun barely peeking through your curtains, as you took in his features - the slope of his nose, his perfect peach coloured lips that had been reverent to you all night, cleverly placed love bites behind his ear and chest. At 30, you were too old to be careless. He had freckles too, if you looked close enough, lightly dotting his nose. He's gorgeous and it felt ridiculous that he didn't know it with the way his jawline was sculpted by Michelangelo himself. You'd learnt a long time ago not to trust boys as pretty as he was, but Spencer was all heart, no matter what Alex said about his brain capacity. He was earnest in a way that modern men weren't, you could see why Alex was begging you to see him.

Slowly but surely, he started to stir, hazel eyes blinking up at you. "Hi, beautiful," he murmured, all hoarse from sleep and you couldn't help a smile.

"Morning, sunshine," you replied, and he's already leaning up to kiss you, his hand sliding into your hair, and you sink into his warmth, letting it dissolve you all over again, until his phone started to ring, and he had the decency to give you a sense of closure before pulling away entirely.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, slowly opening his golden green eyes.

"It's your job, don't apologise," you said, your voice mellow like honey, and he kissed your nose before shifting to take the call. You'd rather he kiss you like that and leave for work, than the guys who left before you could wake up - or worse, while you were in the shower. You sat up in bed, watching as he pinned his phone between his ear and shoulder, scrabbling to put on clothes and hopping into a pair of trousers, trying not to laugh - he was easily embarrassed, not that you minded. You liked reassuring him afterwards that you really did like him.

He doesn't blame you for speaking up before he hangs up, you were only trying to help, calling out his name to toss him his watch, which he caught in both hands (he's getting better at that), but it means Penelope hears her voice. And from there on, all hell breaks loose.

Penelope's relentless with this stuff, really the only thing that bothers him about her. He loved her with all his heart, but sometimes, she just didn't know where to draw the line. It's not the first time in history that an FBI agent had done something like this. Alex was kind enough not to say anything, which everyone took as a woman of her age being demure and respectful. But the rest of them…

It was his fault entirely, he should have had better control of his temper. But texting had always been a pet peeve of his, and every time his phone went off that day, it had been Penelope probing about the girl she'd heard over the phone. He'd done everything he could think of, even begged Morgan to call Penelope off the hunt, told him he'd do everyone's paperwork for the rest of the month, but even Morgan knew when a cause was lost. Penelope had tracked his card, found the restaurant the two of you had gone to (some niche Korean place he knew you'd like), and had gone to the extent of tracking you down and ID'ing you, and doing a full background check, and was updating him so often that he'd lost track of the case he was actually supposed to be working. Not being able to narrow the profile any further and the next phone vibration being the last straw, he'd texted back in a blind rage, not even reading the message that had actually been sent.

Spencer: stop texting me at work! i'm probably never gonna see her again anyway, so just STOP!

In his defence, not that he actually thought he had one after his mistake, Penelope had actually stopped texting him after the message had sent. He'd thought it was his text, but it had actually been because she'd tracked down their unsub. It wasn't until he called you with the intention of telling you that he was flying back that night (and was craving Thai food and her company) that he realised something was wrong, because you wouldn't answer. You always answered your cell. Not because of him personally, or so he was flattered to think until Alex corrected that, but because the virtue of your profession. Any call could be an emergency call so you always always picked up. You'd interrupted dates to answer calls - not that he minded, not with how his job sent him all over the country at a moment's notice. So, why wouldn't you answer his?

And then he realised. He had fucked up. Massively, massively fucked up. You had texted him around noon, wishing him luck with the case, that you had taken a lunch break in case he wanted to talk, and asking whether he'd eaten. To which he'd replied with a complete overreaction and now he was sorely tempted to jump out of the jet without a parachute.

He closed down any kind of small talk, sidelining Penelope's attempt to probe deeper, but even then, it was, what, an hour between Quantico and DC?

You were watching Roman Holiday on your couch, practically swallowed in blankets as you watched your comfort movie when the bell rang. Repeatedly. You didn't pause the movie - you had it memorised - as you left your cocoon to answer the door, looking through the peephole first. Spencer was panting, out of breath, almost bent over as you opened the door, mostly to make sure he didn't pass out. "What, were you chased by a hyena or something?"

"I'm… so… sorry," he panted, looking up at her. "I… I can explain all of it, I didn't mean it."

"I'm surprised you even came here, I thought you were never gonna see me again," you said dryly, knowing it was a low blow - he deserved a chance to explain - but you had been miserable for hours. He could live with a little of your sarcasm.

"I didn't mean to send it to you," he said and you tilted your head.

"I know that, you're too smart to mix up pronouns," you said.

"Penelope… heard your voice this morning… she was like a dog…. With a bone all day, just… constantly texting me and asking about you and I couldn't focus at work, I just texted it to her to shut her up for a bit, I didn't… actually mean in… Can I sit down?" he asked, pleading at you, and you really can't resist those eyes, so you stepped aside, letting him into your apartment.

He's too good at his job not to see how that one text had ruined your day - with your favourite movie and everything but the mattress from your bedroom hauled out to the couch, and he crashed into an armchair, his gaze on you as you poured him a glass of water and walked over, kneeling beside him to make him drink it. He let the cool liquid wash down his throat, then set the glass aside, leaning over and closer to you. "I really really didn't mean any of that. I mean, I did mean the stop texting part, and I meant it for Penelope, but not for you, I always want to hear from you, I mean, if I could, I'd shrink you down to Tinkerbell size and take you with me everywhere, but miniaturisation technology is too far away, we're barely getting 3D printing to work reliably--"

"I believe you," you said softly, pressing your hand to his wrist, feeling his thumping pulse.

"You do?" he asked, looking at you with those beautiful eyes.

"I do," you said. "To be fair, it did feel very uncharacteristic of you to say that to me, let alone get angry at me."

"It's just been a really long day," he said, tiredly, and you nod.

"I have the perfect cure for that," you said, smiling up at him.

"Yeah?"

"Roman Holiday and takeout," you replied and he smiled back down at you.

"Sounds perfect to me."

[byuntrash101]

cheerleader

f!reader x yunho x mingi x san x seonghwa smut | mdni 1.6k the boys always like to celebrate victory with their biggest cheerleader after a game nsfw tags under the cut

#18: blowgang + bukkake (twt p☆rnlink) soccer players!ateez, blowbang (m rec.), facials and a lot of cum (bukkake), dom!ateez, sub!reader, gentle!yunho, mean!seonghwa, praising, degrading (whore, slut)

a/n: okkk so this is the first request for my 3k celebration! i hope you enjoy it! look forward to the other ones <3

3k celebration | ateez masterlist | navigation

You almost squeezed the hotdog out of the bun as Yunho scored the last winning goal. The crowd rose in unisson for the college team. The euphoria took over you when the tall team captain sent you a flying kiss for the goal celebration. 

Him and the whole team knew they owed you a lot. Rare were the fans that were as devoted and cheered as loud as you. And you planned to show this devotion once again after the game. Like you always do: on your knees.

***

The floor of the locker room scraped your bare knees but you couldn't care less about the pain when nearly half the team was standing in front of you, fresh out of the shower, hair still wet, droplets of water trickling down their chests and torsos to reach the white towels tightly wrapped around their waists.

“You saw, baby?” Yunho said, wrapping his big warm hand around your neck to pull you closer. “I scored just for you.” He pressed his clothed half hard cock to your cheek and you bit your lip to repress a moan. 

“Shut up, you scored one goal. I caught like five attempts.” Mingi, the goalkeeper, scoffed side eyeing his tall captain that didn't pay him any attention as he was guiding your hand over the outline of his cock. Mingi also approached you, ripping the towel off him. 

“Here, love” Mingi said gently, wrapping his hand around your jaw to turn your head away from Yunho and to his direction. “Suck on my cock. I saved the game”

You started to lick your lips hurriedly as your mouth started to water at the sight of Mingi’s juicy length.

“Excuse me, what about us?” San interjected also coming into view with his rock hard cock in hand. Instantly your eyes traveled from the thick and veiny appendix to the sculpted V on his abdomen then to his pecs and board shoulders, his skin was still wet and glistening. “Seonghwa and I defended like our lives depended on it! I think I did a good job. I should get my dick sucked.” San said poking his cock into you other cheek.

“Come on, guys” Seonghwa finally said, also stepping to you. “There’ll be enough of our favorite cheerleader for all of us. Right, darling? You’ll be a good girl and suck all of our cocks?” The oldest said with a half smirk, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip. You felt arousal pool between you thighs at the mere mention of having all these cocks into your mouth and nodded immediately. 

“Yes. I’ll suck all of your cocks for as long as you want” you replied looking at the four men circling you.

“Good little slut.” Seonghwa said, stroking your cheek and guiding you on his length. You immediately opened your mouth to take him past your lips. The smooth tip glided on your tongue while you moaned and Seonghwa sighed in pleasure.

“Sorry boys, eldest privilege” Seonghwas said in a breath as the others were grunting in disapproval.

“Here babygirl use your hands” Yunho said as he wrapped your fingers around his huge and dripping cock. 

“Me too baby” Mingi said, taking your other hand. And you started to jerk off the two men while you bobbed your head on Seonghwa length’s coating it with your spit as all kinds of beautiful sounds erupted from them.

“Fuck what about me?” San complained as he stroked his cock while looking at you being at your maximum capacity. 

As soon as you heard him whine you popped Seonghwa out of your mouth to shove San’s cock into your mouth. His tip hit the back of your throat instantly making him groan and moan.

“Fuck baby, that feels… so g-good” San said throwing his head back, putting both hands on his nape.

“Fuck baby grip harder” Yunho said tightly wrapping his big hands around yours. Thrusting his fat cock into your ballad fist. “Yeaah like that” he sighed in bliss.

Seonghwa gathered your hair in one of his hands and pushed your face on San’s length while his other hand jerked himself off, his spit-coated cock making wet squelching noises in the process. 

“Yeah that's it, baby. Suck his dick just like that. Show me what that pretty mouth can do” Seonghwa encouraged.

“Fuckk” San whimpered when your nose touched his pubic bone with the eldest's help and you repressed a gag before popping him out with a cough amd gasping for air.

Only seconds later Seonghwa was stuffing your mouth and throat with his cock again. You didn’t even have a second to breathe you were already being gagged on his length as he relentlessly fucked your throat. 

Mingi whimpered and Yunho grunted as you balled your fists tighter in response. Both the men thrusting into your hands while tears bloomed into your eyes. Seonghwa looked down at you with a satisfied grin when two big tears rolled on your heated cheeks before he released you.

You coughed up again and let go of Mingi and Yunho.

“Come on baby, you’re not already tired are you?” Yunho said, lifting your face to look up at him. You shook your head unable to respond verbally due to the burning in your throat and earned another praise from the tall man.

You opened your mouth once again, wrapping your hand around Mingi’s length with one hand and around San’s with the other one. You started to slurp on Yunho's cock, bobbing your head a couple of times before popping him out and going to Mingi. The man threw his head back. You did the same thing before taking San back into your mouth. Then you were back to taking Seonghwa. You alternated like this for a while until San pulled on your hair to get your avid wet mouth off his cock. He shut his eyes tight and breathed in heavily, large beads of sweat rolling on his temple and hanging on his sharp jaw line.

“Fuck that was close, almost busted” San said in a short breath.

“Baby you’re so good with that pretty little mouth of yours you almost made San cum” Yunho cooed. 

“Do that on me baby” Mingi requested and you immediately gave him your undivided attention. You wrapped both your hands around his base while you slipped his tip inside your mouth, licking the slit, your eyes fluttering close at the taste of his precum filling your mouth. Everytime you bobbed your head your hands followed your mouth, perfectly gliding on his length thanks to your spit. 

“Oh fuckfuckfuck b-baby” Mingi hurriedly said. also pulling on your hair. 

“Yeah she’s good” San said with a smirk while you let Mingi out and aimed his tip onto your face, making him spill his load right onto your cheeks and lips, your hands still jerking his twitching cock until you eventually milked him dry.

“Fuck baby” Mingi said shuddering and short of breathe, “that was amazing.”

“My turn” Yunho said, breaching your swollen lips. “God f-fuck” he groaned as he felt your throat tightening around him. He was also quite close after this much teasing. Your hand wrapped around San’s cock and you started jerking him off again.

“Fuck you look so pretty my cock shoved down your cock and covered in cum” Yunho groaned, his raspy voice getting strained.

“Just for you” you briefly said before taking him back into your mouth and bobbing your head even faster.

“Fuckkk… g-gonna cum. ” Yunho said. And you popped him out and immediately taking Hwa’s cock inside your wet hole, continuously jerking off San.

“Look at me baby while you suck on Seonghwa’s cock. Look at me while I cum for you.” Yunho’s raspy voice whispered as he was lifting your chin to him and he jerked himself off. As Seonghwa fucked your throat you turned her head slightly to receive Yunho's warm load on your face you moaned around Seonghwa as you felt the hot cum come in contact with your heated skin.

“Fuck I can't hold on anymore. Baby my turn” San said as you didn’t stop pulling and pushing on his cock with your balled fist. You aimed his cock to your face where he came immediately after Yunho the three big loads mixing and decorating your pretty face, becoming indistinguishable.

“Fuck what a fucking whore you are baby” Seonghwa said also getting out your mouth to stroke his cock over your face “open your mouth, slut.” You immediately executed the command. 

“She’s so hungry for cum that’s crazy” San noted with a smirk that you could hear.

“Insatiable,” Yunho added.

“Want one more?” Seonghwa asked and you didn't even have the time to agree before beautiful thick ropes of cum spurted out of his slit to soak your face with yet another warm load. “Fuckkk” Seonghwa moaned while you hurriedly sucked on your lips and scraped the cum on your cheeks to your mouth, avidly sucking on your fingers, your brain officially switching off to focus solely on the taste of the four men in your mouth.

“Hmmm so good.” you moaned against your fingers. “More.” And Seonghwa chuckled.

“Let's call back the rest of the team to take care of you, baby” Seonghwa said pushing your hair out of your beautiful fucked out face.

“Four of us isn’t enough, right darling?” Yunho asked but you were way too far gone to answer anything.

“On it” Mingi said as he picked up his phone from his locker “Yeah, Joong, can you come back to the lockers? Yeah… y/n is here. Yeah we already started but we need back up.”

a/n: what. a. start!!!!! I'm super excited for this event! I hope you had as much fun reading as me writing. look forward to the other fics <3

3k celebration | ateez masterlist | navigation

[aryadelvich]

May the act begin - Luigi Mangione x reader

Notes : It’s been a little while since I last posted—I’ve been really wanting to write an enemies-to-lovers story so badly (sigh, Lu). Anyway, here it is! And don’t worry if you’ve sent a request—I’m currently working on it!

Warning : NSFW, enemies to lover, fake dating, submissive Luigi, submissive reader, dominant Luigi, dominant reader, cunnilingus, blowjob, P in V, doggy style, gentleman Luigi, caring Luigi, slapping, rough, talk trough it, breeding kink (I’ve seen a lot of writers doing this so I’m following the move, please let me know if I forgot anything !!!)

Words count : 7.1k

Updated Materlist

"You little freak. I knew it the first time I saw you," he said, smirking as he kissed you deeply.

"Groundbreaking, Luigi," you replied dryly, full of sarcasm.

He laughed and kissed you again—this time with more hunger.

This wasn’t love. It wasn’t tender. This was fucking, plain and simple. Tonight, you could do whatever you wanted to him—and he could do the same to you. He was your puppet, and you were his. He was here for one thing and one thing only: lust.

Because the truth was, you despised him. Mentally, emotionally—you couldn’t stand him. You hated him so much that you could ruin him and not feel a thing. You didn’t care about the consequences. It was Luigi, after all. One more reason for him to hate you wouldn’t change a damn thing between you.

And the cherry on top? You got to mess with him. That gave you more satisfaction than anything else happening right now. You wanted him to suffer. Because of you. You wanted him to beg. To fall at your feet. To be your obedient little toy.

"You're so fucking pathetic," you said, ripping open his shirt, buttons popping and scattering across the floor.

"Yeah? And yet you’re the one tearing off my clothes," he shot back without missing a beat.

"You begged me with those sad puppy eyes—‘Please Y/n, sleep with me. I’m just the poor nerd no girl wants,’"you mocked in a low, exaggerated voice.

He grinned and pulled your top over your head.

"Funny how at least one girl seems pretty into me right now."

You shoved him down onto the bed. He leaned back on his elbows, eyes gleaming with that same smug, infuriating glint. Then you straddled him, taking control.

"You’re so desperate you’re fucking the one girl who can’t stand you. Tell me—how deep does the self-loathing have to run to go crawling to the person who probably hates you the most?"

"What’s hilarious is that you're saying all this while grinding on me. Isn't that... ironic? Or is it an oxymoron?"

"Wow, learned a new word? Does playing the intellectual work for you often?"

He placed his hands on your hips and began to guide them, slow and deliberate. You couldn’t hold back the moan that slipped from your lips. Even through your jeans, you could feel how sure of himself he was—how in control. And God, you didn’t know how long you’d last.

Because damn, he was beautiful.

You had no idea that underneath those repetitive, boring clothes was a body like this. Broad shoulders, thick arms that looked like they could hold you down or hold you together. His chest was full and firm, pectorals sculpted like he’d been drawn by an artist. His collarbone was sharply defined, his neck thick and perfectly proportioned. You watched the way his Adam’s apple shifted when he spoke.

Even his nipples were perfect.

That little voice in your head got louder.

You pinched his right nipple—just to see what would happen.

He flinched, face twisting slightly, and you weren’t sure if it hurt or if he liked it. But deep down? You already knew.

He loved it.

The real question was…did you?

"Okay, that’s a first,"he said with a half-laugh. "Pinching my nipple? Seriously, Y/n? You’re so weird."

"I prefer the term unpredictable," you shot back. "And of course no one’s ever done that—you’re a loser who only hangs out with guys."

You didn’t give him time to answer. You leaned in and licked his nipple once, then glanced up at him, waiting for his reaction.

He slid a hand into your hair, giving a small nod.

You licked again—slower this time—then gently caught it between your teeth, biting just enough to make him feel it. His back arched against you. He hadn’t expected the sensation to hit him so hard.

"Go lower,"he ordered.

"Don’t give me orders,"you snapped, voice cold.

"Please," he said quickly. "Go lower. I’m begging you—I can’t take it anymore."

Much better.

You stood and slipped off your jeans and underwear in one smooth motion. Now you were completely naked in front of him, and there wasn’t a hint of shame in your posture. Why would there be? It was Luigi. What could he possibly say—insult you? Like that would faze you.

And… maybe it was more than that.

You trusted him. Despite the constant bickering, the tension, the games—he had never crossed the line. Not once.

Now he looked up at you, starry-eyed, lips parted in awe. That soft, almost reverent smile playing on his face.

"So that’s what a real woman looks like," you said, tilting your head. "In case you were wondering. A real one—not the fake ones in all that porn you probably watch every day."

Your gaze flicked to his nightstand, looking for a telltale box of tissues—something to prove your point.

Nothing. Just books and a lamp.

And since you showed up unannounced, it wasn’t like he had time to hide the evidence.

So maybe… he really didn’t.

And weirdly, that disappointed you.

You’d had so many jokes lined up.

"I don’t watch porn," he said as he unbuttoned his pants. "I’m against it."

You rolled your eyes.

"Wow, you’re so different. Should I give you a medal?" you replied, all sarcasm.

But part of you found it… refreshing. A guy who actually had thoughts of his own. Who didn’t just follow every urge or trend.

“I’m not a slave to my desires. I can stop whenever I want,” he said, like he meant it.

“Then let’s stop,” you challenged, though your voice faltered just slightly. You didn’t really mean it.

His expression shifted—something cracked beneath the surface.

“I... I don’t want to. Not now,” he murmured, placing a hand on your hip and gently drawing you back in. This kiss was different—softer, slower. Tender, even.

“Alright,” you breathed, ruffling his curls with a smirk. “I’ll take care of you. Then I’ll vanish from your life like a good little mistake.”

“I’ll take care of you too,” he replied, mirroring your tone. And just like that, your heart clenched. There was something in his voice—warm, sincere. Vulnerable. It made you feel… special. Like you were seeing a version of him no one else got to.

“You really had me fooled,” you teased. “You’re not the sweet little Luigi everyone thinks you are. Am I surprised? Not even a little.”

“That side’s just for you,” he said with a crooked smile. “You’re too far gone to handle the nice guy act anyway.”

“Wow,” you said, voice thick with sarcasm. “Now I feel so important.”

“Then shut up,” he growled, smirking, “and get back to what you were doing. You’ll thank me later.”

He lay back again, and you moved to straddle him. Slowly, you started trailing kisses—his lips, his jaw, then down his throat. Your mouth explored every inch: his collarbone, his chest, the defined curve of his abs, the faint line of hair leading down to where his boxers sat low on his hips.

You could already see how hard he was through the fabric.

With deliberate slowness, you hooked your fingers into the waistband and pulled them down. His cock sprang free, thick and flushed, and for a second, you just stared.

Perfect. It suited him—confident, imposing. Almost too much, but somehow exactly what you'd imagined.

You ran your hand down the length of him, gentle and curious, watching every shift in his expression. His head fell back with a quiet groan, and his hips twitched beneath your touch.

“Fuck… you’re too good,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

“I haven’t even done anything yet,” you whispered, amused.

He sat up, planting his feet on the floor at the edge of the bed. And without missing a beat, you dropped to your knees in front of him. The hardwood was cool beneath you, but the heat between your bodies was burning.

His breath caught as your hands moved on him, slow strokes that made his cock pulse beneath your fingertips. He was already aching, hard, and waiting—and just the sight of it made your mouth water.

“Y/n…”

His voice was rough, gravel and heat, and it went straight through you.

But you didn’t look up. Not yet.

You leaned in, let your breath brush the tip, and felt his thighs tense.

Then, with no warning, you took him into your mouth—slow, deep, warm. His groan was instant and primal, his hand sliding into your hair, fingers curling but not pulling. You started slow, taking your time, teasing. Your tongue swirled as you set a rhythm, your lips moving around him with practiced control. But you could feel the shift—his breathing quickened, his hand tightened in your hair, his hips barely holding back. He wanted more. Needed it. And you wanted to give it to him so bad.

You picked up the rhythm, your lips and tongue working him harder, more relentlessly. His hand gripped your hair, guiding you deeper with each thrust. You felt him push past the back of your throat, your nose brushing against his stomach. You didn’t stop. You welcomed it.

“Fuck, Y/n…” he groaned, voice breaking, body trembling beneath your hands. His hips started moving, shallow thrusts into your mouth that grew rougher, more urgent. You held onto his thighs to steady yourself, letting him take control.

It wasn’t slow. It wasn’t soft. And you didn’t want it to be.

The room was filled with the sounds of his pleasure—his moans, the wet glide of your mouth, the low curse he whispered every time you took him deeper. Your throat ached, your jaw burned, but the way he responded, the way he came undone beneath you—it was worth everything. He was close. You could feel it. His movements became unsteady, his groans deeper, more desperate.

“I’m gonna…” he rasped. “I’m—”

You pushed him all the way in just as he came with a choked cry, his body tensing as he released into your mouth. You swallowed everything, not pulling back, letting your tongue gently coax him through the aftershocks. His body finally slumped, spent, his grip on your hair going slack. You stayed there a moment, catching your breath, your lips still around him. Then you slowly pulled back, letting him go with a soft pop. You looked up—lips swollen, eyes dark, breath slightly uneven—and found him staring down at you, chest heaving.

“Holy shit,” he whispered, still trying to recover. “I knew you were a freak, but… this? Damn.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” you shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm as you stood.

But the second you moved, he grabbed your wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he said, smirking. “I’m not done with you yet.”

“Nowhere…” you replied, a breathless murmur.

He pulled you down with him, laying back on the bed and dragging you onto his chest, holding you there like he wasn’t letting you go anytime soon. He kissed every inch of your body as he gently laid you down on his bed. His mouth found your breasts, biting and teasing your nipples as if getting revenge for what you’d done to him earlier. Your head tilted back—he hadn’t even gotten to the main part yet, but it was already a lot. You had to admit, he was good. He flipped you both over, switching positions—he was now beneath you, and you were on top. You met his gaze and instantly understood what he wanted. You lowered yourself, settling your core over his lips, and he didn’t waste a second. His tongue and mouth got to work, licking and sucking at your most sensitive parts. Your hands tangled in his curls, holding tight, while his big nose pressed perfectly against your clit. It was too good. Even better when you moved your hips to your own rhythm, hearing him moan underneath you, struggling to catch his breath—but that was on him. He was the one who asked you to sit on his face. If he choked, well, too bad. You didn’t care.

Not that you’d last much longer anyway—it felt way too good.

At one point, you noticed he wasn’t making any sound at all. Just to be sure, you lifted yourself off of him, checking to see if he was still alive and not suffocating beneath you. What a pathetic way to die… or maybe honorable? Dying while giving pleasure to—well, you weren’t his wife, but still. A woman.

“You good?” you asked, a little breathless. “You got quiet for a second.”

“I’m fine. Get back here,” he said—more command than request.

And this time, your hips moved faster. His hands gripped your thighs, anchoring you to him as your hips rocked harder against his mouth. The pressure, the rhythm—it was maddening. You could feel him groan into you, the vibration shooting straight through your core. He was insatiable, and you were right there with him.

You didn’t care how you looked. Hair messy, breathing ragged, legs trembling—none of it mattered. Not when his tongue was moving like that. Not when your whole body was tightening, coiling, ready to snap.

You cried out his name—louder than you meant to—as your climax hit you like a wave crashing hard and fast. Your body arched, your fingers pulling at his hair, and still, he didn’t stop. Not even when you shuddered above him, gasping for air. He kept going, slower now, teasing you through the aftershocks until you were too sensitive to handle another second.

You finally pulled away, legs shaking as you slid off him, collapsing beside him on the bed. He was grinning—smug, flushed, lips wet.

And now, the real things were beginning. The excitement hadn’t faded—if anything, it had only grown. Every second with him made you want more. He was addictive. Like a high you couldn’t come down from. He gave your ass a light smack.

“On all fours,” he ordered.

You moved into position without hesitation, your breath already catching. The anticipation alone had you soaked. That familiar, maddening ache was back between your thighs—buzzing, pulsing, desperate.

You felt the bed shift as he knelt behind you. Then the head of his cock brushed against your entrance, teasing you, gliding through the wetness. You whimpered, pushing your hips back, silently begging for more. He didn’t need to see your face to know how badly you wanted it—but you could feel the grin pulling at his lips anyway.

“You’re so wet,” he murmured, cocky and amused. “You want this so bad, baby?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

He chuckled softly—then slammed into you in one sudden, brutal thrust. Normally it would’ve hurt, but you were so ready for him, maybe even too ready. Another cry slipped from your lips, and you cursed yourself for it—you didn’t want to feed his already massive ego. But he groaned too as he sank into you.

It felt too good. Like he was made for you. Every inch of him hit exactly where you needed, the length, the thickness—like it was meant to be. You already knew you wouldn’t last long, no matter how much you wanted this to last all night.

His hands roamed your back, finding a firm hold on your hips before he started to move—slow at first, deep and deliberate, then faster. One hand slid to your neck, steadying himself, grounding you, and somehow making the pleasure sharper, more consuming.

“Say it,” he growled behind you. “Say this is what you wanted. That all your attitude was just you begging for me to shut you up and fuck you properly.”

You bit your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“What? Nothing to say now?” he taunted. “You’re always running that mouth. What happened—did I fuck the words out of you?”

Still, you stayed silent. That only made him smirk. You didn’t need to see it to feel it.

He reached for your mouth, trying to push a finger between your lips. “Say it.”

You didn’t—because instead, you sank your teeth into his finger.

“Fucking bitch,” he snarled, yanking his hand away.

You took your chance. With a sudden push, you flipped him over, climbed on top, and straddled him. Now you were in control—even if a part of you missed the way he was handling you seconds ago.

“Piece of shit,” you snapped, gripping his throat with one hand and squeezing.

He barely reacted. “You only managed that because I let you,” he said, calm, amused. “We both know I’m stronger than you.”

He slapped your ass—hard. Your body jerked, and a surprised moan burst from your lips before you could stop it. You glared at him, breath ragged, heart pounding—but your hips had a mind of their own. You rolled them forward, slowly, deliberately, feeling the way he stretched you, filled you. His hands rested on your thighs, just watching you for a moment, hungry eyes. You moved at your own pace, savoring every friction, every sensation that rippled through you. The way his body responded to yours, the way your pleasure stirred his, it was intoxicating.

“You’re riding that dick… so good,” he growled, his grip tightening on your thighs as if anchoring himself.

You rolled your eyes. Luigi, giving you a compliment? That was new. And okay—maybe not the most poetic, but still. Sometimes, in the middle of everything, he'd let little things slip. Baby… You feel so good.

“You’re not used to compliments from men, huh? Your father never said anything nice to you?” he teased, eyes dark, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You rolled your eyes again, but this time with a crooked little smile.

“You’re so fucking annoying, you know that?”

“Yes or no?”

“Can we not talk about my family while we’re fucking?”

He nodded, looking a little apologetic. Then he shifted, sitting up, pulling you tighter against him as he thrust up into you. His rhythm picked up. His breathing grew ragged. You felt him twitch inside you—he was close. So close.

“Can I breed you?” he groaned into your neck, voice all heat and desperation.

“What? No.” You gasped between moans, brows furrowed.

He started to pull out, but you locked your legs around him, holding him in place.

“Stay. I’m about to cum… hold it together.”

“Oh fuck… I can’t—”

“Yes, you can.” You gripped his shoulders, grounding him. You were barely hanging on yourself, your whole body tense, drawn tight like a bowstring.

“Stop looking at me,” he panted. “You’re making it worse.” He looked like he was unraveling. “Can I cum? Please?” he asked, voice cracking, raw and pleading.

“Oh my god—no. Just hold it. I’m right there.”

“You’re so fucking selfish… you little whore.”

“Don’t call me that—you’re seriously making it worse.”

“Shut up.”

Sat up, locked together, still moving. Still trembling. Still chasing that edge. You leaned in, lips brushing his ear, breath hot and shaky.

“Yes” you whispered.

The words had barely left your mouth before he came, hard, moaning deep in your neck as he emptied himself inside you. His release triggered yours, like a chain reaction, and your moans tangled in the thick, heavy air between you. It was overwhelming. Perfect. Too much and not enough all at once.

“You’re so good,” he murmured against your skin, pressing a kiss to your neck.

You fell back against the bed, catching your breath, still dazed. He was beautiful. Disgustingly so. Like something carved from marble—his curls messy from your hands, his chest heaving, his eyes half-lidded. He looked unreal with the sweat all over his body, he was all shiny, all of this for you. And it pissed you off. Because he wasn’t just beautiful. He was kind. Gentle. Sharp. Honest. Clever. And you’d never admit any of it—not to him. Not even to yourself.

You hated him. You liked hating him. It was safer that way.

Even if tonight—just tonight—you’d let him in.

He slowly pulled out, and you felt his warmth drip from you, sending one last shiver down your spine. But before you could move, he pushed back in again—slow, deep—like he wasn’t done.

“I’m putting babies in you,” he whispered with a smirk.

“You’re so embarrassing,” you muttered. But the truth? The way he made you feel—that was what really embarrassed you.

“You don’t like it?”

“I don’t mind,” you said.

A lie.

Because you loved it. Luigi collapsed on top of you, his full weight pressing down, stealing your breath—but it felt good. He was big, he completely covered you, and somehow, like this, you felt safe. Slowly, your bodies started to calm, the high began to fade.

“Second round?” Luigi asked with a teasing look.

You traced lazy circles on his back, running your fingers over his thick arms, into his curls, down his neck—everywhere, really—while he nuzzled into your collarbone, his breath and kisses tickling your skin.

But then—a knock at the door shattered the moment.

You groaned internally. Who dared interrupt?

Luigi sighed, growling under his breath as he lifted his head.

“You don’t have to answer,” you suggested, praying he’d listen and come back to where he belonged—on you, his head tucked into your neck, wrapped in your arms.

“You’re right,” he agreed.

He was just about to lie back down when a girl’s voice echoed from behind the door.

“Luigi? You in there?”

He shot up immediately, much to your dismay, and scrambled off the bed.

“Shit, shit, shit!” he hissed, yanking on his boxers and pajama pants in record time.

“Who is it?” you asked, propping yourself up on your elbows. “You better not have a girlfriend, Luigi. You wouldn’t dare, right?”

“Shh, not a sound. You’re not here, okay?”

You fell back onto the bed with a frustrated sigh. What the hell is happening? You’d just assumed you’d have him to yourself at least for the night.

He cracked the door open, just enough so the girl outside couldn’t see inside.

“Hey,” she said casually.

“Hey. What brings you here?”

“Um, I texted before I came over…”

“Oh, didn’t see it. I was… busy,” he replied, glancing back at you quickly.

Who is this girl? And more importantly—why does she have his number? You didn’t even have that.

“I wanted to talk about meeting your parents. Which dress do you think is better?” she asked, showing him pictures of dresses on her phone.

Seriously? She came all the way here for that? Meeting the parents? That sounded… serious. And if it was serious, it probably meant your little fling was over before it had really begun.

“You came over for that?” Luigi raised a brow.

“Yeah, I want to look perfect for them. I mean, they’re your parents. I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

You shifted slightly on the bed, making it creak.

“Is someone in your room?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“What? No,” Luigi replied instantly.

Now you had two options: stay quiet and hope she left, or do something to make sure she knew you were there.

Option one? Boring.

Option two? Way more fun.

“Luigi?” you called out across the room, loud and clear.

He spun around, eyes wide, mouthing for you to shut up. He looked completely panicked, which made it even more hilarious.

“Is there someone in there?” she asked again, more suspicious now.

“No, that’s my sister. She’s on FaceTime,” he said quickly.

“Mmh… That didn’t sound like your sister’s voice. And it was way too loud to be coming from a phone,” she replied, not buying it.

She knows his sister? Oh wow. You suddenly felt like you’d walked into something way more complicated than expected.

Then, without warning, she shoved the door open and stepped inside—only to find you sitting at the edge of the bed, quickly yanking the covers over yourself. Of course, you were completely naked.

“Seriously, Luigi? Who is she?”

“She’s just a friend,” he said.

“Well, this has nothing to do with me. I should go. Good luck to both of you,” you say, calmly but firmly, as you start gathering your clothes scattered across the room. The sheet is still wrapped around your body like some fragile shield.

“No. You're staying. You're my guest,” Luigi says, voice steady with just a hint of tension.

You raise an eyebrow. What is he even talking about?

“Look,” he turns to the girl, “we haven’t been together in a long time. I tried getting back with you—several times. But you kept shutting me down. I think I’m allowed to move on.”

“But I was finally ready. You didn’t try hard enough,” she snaps back, furious.

“Please don’t do this. I tried more than once, and every single time, it was the same wall. Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

“Then fine. I’m not coming tomorrow,” she huffs, arms crossed like a final strike.

You glance at Luigi. Is this meeting really that important?

“But I already told my parents you were coming. They’re looking forward to it.”

“I don’t care. It’s over,” she says before walking out, slamming the door behind her.

Luigi exhales deeply and turns back to you.

“Wow. You really suck,” you mutter, half-teasing, half-exhausted.

“She just wanted to keep me around as a backup. It took me five failed attempts to realize it.”

He sinks down beside you on the bed and throws you a playful look. “You ruined everything… like always.”

“You did that all by yourself.”

“Okay, okay, fair. I just wanted to blame someone else for once,” he says with a soft grin, running a hand through your hair. Then, his tone shifts, quieter now. “It’s just… I talked about her to my parents so many times. They were really excited to meet her. Back then, anyway. I didn’t want to let them down, so I invited her. But yeah, it was a dumb move.”

“It’s never a good idea to chase someone who’s already made up their mind,” you reply, stretching out on the bed and patting the spot next to you.

Luigi lies down facing you. His eyes search yours, and for a long moment, neither of you speaks. It’s oddly intimate. You eventually look away, just as his phone vibrates on the nightstand.

“Probably my mom,” he mumbles, grabbing it.

It is. He reads her message, then sighs.

“She’s so hyped to meet my ‘girlfriend’, I don’t even know how to tell her she’s not coming anymore.”

“Maybe talk to your ex—maybe she’ll reconsider.”

“She won’t. Especially not after seeing you.” He pauses, then smirks at you. “Actually… I’ve got an idea. What if you came instead?”

“What? No way. I’m terrible with parents. That sounds like a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Oh, come on. This is in part your fault. You completely distracted me and now I’ve got no one to bring. You owe me.”

“My fault?” you laugh. “I didn’t forced you. And let’s not forget—we don’t even like each other.”

“Just once. Be my fake girlfriend for one night. And in return, I’ll do anything you want.”

“Anything?”

“Yes. Within legal limits, of course.”

“…Fine. When?”

“Tomorrow. I’ll come pick you up.”

“Alright.”

You get up and start dressing, gathering your things again. But Luigi catches your arm gently.

“You’re not staying?”

“Nope. I need to get ready for your big parent trap tomorrow.”

“Come on, just one last kiss,” he says, looking up at you with his best sad-puppy eyes.

“Nice try. We’re not a couple, Luigi.”

“We’re just practicing for later”

“No kiss”

Reluctantly, he lets go. You get dressed quickly, and head for the door.

•• D-Day •••

You were ready. You had slipped into one of your nicest dresses—elegant but understated. Your makeup was simple, just like you always wore it, and you’d curled your hair into soft waves. You didn’t feel particularly nervous. After all, it wasn’t really your in-laws you were about to meet, and you weren’t in a real relationship. You had no one to impress, so you decided to just be yourself.

A knock at the door.

You opened it to find Luigi standing there.

“Wow… you look stunning.”

“Thanks… you’re not so bad yourself.”

He had dressed up in a smart little suit, a light blue shirt, and a violet tie. He looked charming—like the ideal son-in-law. It was almost suspicious.

“Shall we?”

He offered his arm with a warm smile. You looped yours through his, and the two of you headed to his car.

“So… what’s our story?” you asked as he started driving.

“Just be yourself,” he replied easily.

“And if someone asks me stuff about you? I barely know anything about your life. All I know is that you’re kind of an idiot.”

He chuckled, eyes on the road. “Well, my favorite color is blue. I love video games, traveling, hiking, and reading. That’s all you really need to know.”

He glanced your way. “What about you?”

“My favorite color is orange. I’m into movies, love hiking too, and I listen to a lot of music,” you said, listing the basics.

He put on some music, and the drive continued in comfortable silence. Eventually, you pulled into a quiet, upscale neighborhood lined with stunning homes.

“Whoa… your house is huge.”

He nodded, visibly a little awkward. You hadn’t expected this. You knew he was well-off, but this was another level.

“Ready?”

“Too late to run?” you muttered.

“You’ll be fine.”

You stepped inside, and it was instantly overwhelming. The house was packed with people—laughter, conversation, children screaming in the background.

“Okay, your family is huge. I thought it was just gonna be your parents.”

“Welcome to the Mangione family,” he said with a smirk. “We’re Italian. We don’t do ‘small gatherings.’”

“You tricked me, you sneaky bastard.”

He grinned. “I told you you’d meet my parents. I just might’ve skipped a few... logistical details.”

“Luigi! You’re finally here!” a woman’s voice called out.

His mother rushed over, pulling him into a tight hug. His father followed right behind.

“Hi sweetheart. And you must be Bianca! It’s so lovely to meet you!”

“Actually, it’s Y/n,” you corrected gently.

His mother froze, clearly caught off guard. You shot a subtle glare at Luigi.

“Luigi must’ve given you my full name. Everyone close to me just calls me Y/n.”

“Oh! Right—of course! So sorry about that,” she said quickly before pulling you into a warm, affectionate hug.

His father, more formal, gave you a firm handshake and a respectful nod. “Welcome.”

May the act begin.

The living room was buzzing with chatter, clinking glasses, and bursts of laughter. You could barely keep track of all the introductions—uncles, aunts, cousins, second cousins, grandparents, people who seemed only vaguely related but were welcomed like blood.

At first, you stuck close to Luigi’s side like a quiet shadow, offering polite smiles and nods, but you slowly warmed up. His family was surprisingly welcoming. One of his aunts complimented your dress, another asked about your job, and a cousin asked if you liked tiramisu before dragging you to the dessert table.

You played along, smiling, answering, even asking a few questions back.

A pair of twin boys, no older than six, were zooming around with toy airplanes, nearly colliding into furniture. One of them tripped and fell right at your feet, letting out a frustrated groan. You bent down to help him up and, without thinking, made a whooshing airplane noise that sent both kids into a fit of laughter.

Moments later, you were on the floor with them, flying invisible jets and dramatically crashing them into pillows. Luigi watched from across the room, amused, arms crossed and an endearing smirk tugging at his lips.

"You’re surprisingly good with kids," he said as he walked over.

"That’s because I am one," you shot back, brushing imaginary dust off your dress. He puts his hand on your hips.

“Fair.”

Then someone called out from the dining room: “Alright, time for the family game!”

Everyone shuffled into the large room where a game of charades was already being set up. You and Luigi exchanged a quick look—half dread, half challenge.

“Wanna team up?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re going down.”

You were put on Team Mangione A—alongside Luigi, one of his younger cousins, and his aunt with the world’s most aggressive poker face.

The game was chaotic. People shouted ridiculous guesses, exaggerated movements filled the room, and someone kept snorting every time they laughed. When it was your turn, you mimed “Titanic” with such dramatic flair that Luigi burst out laughing mid-guess. When it was his turn, he attempted “The Godfather” with a horrible accent and somehow still managed to get it right.

You were in sync. Every round, you guessed each other’s clues within seconds, communicating with just a look or a barely-there gesture.

In the final round, it was between your team and another, and it all came down to you. You drew the last word, looked at Luigi, and started acting.

“Rollercoaster,” he shouted instantly. “Haunted house? Spider… explosion? Fireworks!”

“Yes!” you cheered, pointing at him as the room erupted in noise.

Your team had won.

Everyone clapped and whistled, and someone passed out slices of cake in celebration. You flopped down onto the couch beside Luigi. He leaned in a little, voice dropping low enough that only you could hear, a smug grin on his face. “Can I kiss you?”

You looked back at Luigi. “We can’t,” you whispered, trying to suppress a smile. “Not in front of your whole family.”

It wasn’t long, just a soft, quick press of his lips against yours—but it made your breath catch anyway. Warmth bloomed in your chest.

When you pulled away, the room had gone suspiciously quiet for half a second—just long enough.

“Oooooh!” one of the cousins howled.

“The lovebirds strike again!” another shouted from the armchair.

“Somebody get them a balcony already!” an aunt cackled, raising her glass.

You buried your face in your hands, laughing. Luigi just leaned back casually, looking smug as ever.

You were all chatting casually over appetizers. The conversation turned, naturally, to food.

"Do you cook, Y/n?" asked the nonna pouring herself another glass of sparkling water.

"A little," you replied. "But I’m more of a dessert person. I love trying new recipes."

Luigi’s cousin perked up. "What’s the craziest best you’ve ever tasted?"

You smiled, thinking back. "Okay, don’t judge me — but once, I had a kinder bueno tiramisu."

Suddenly, the room fell silent. Forks froze mid-air. Luigi slowly turned to you, eyes wide.

"A… Kinder… tiramisu?" he repeated, like you had just insulted his grandmother.

"Yeah," you said, blinking innocently. "It was actually really good—"

"Madonna mia," someone whispered across the table.

His aunt clutched her chest dramatically. "Che sacrilegio!"

One of the uncles shook his head like he was grieving. "They ruin everything these days…"

Luigi covered his face with both hands. "Y/n, why would you say that here ?"

"I didn’t know this was a sacred topic!" you said, laughing nervously. "I mean… it still had mascarpone!"

"That’s not enough!" his nonna cried from across the room. "You don’t mess with tradition!"

By now, everyone was laughing — half in horror, half in amusement — and you felt yourself relax. Even if you were an outsider, at least you were now part of the joke.

Luigi leaned in close, his voice low and amused as he whispered in your ear, “You just committed culinary blasphemy in front of three generations of Italians.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “I didn’t realize it was that serious.”

“Oh, it is,” he said with mock solemnity. “You just lost Nonna’s blessing.”

You gasped dramatically. “Then I better go make things right.”

He watched with a grin as you stood and made your way over to his grandmother. From across the room, he saw you speaking with animated hands, full of charm, while she listened intently. A beat later, she broke into a warm smile, pulled you into a hug, and kissed both your cheeks.

Luigi laughed softly to himself. Of course she forgave you.

You walked back toward him, head high, a triumphant glint in your eye.

“She forgave me,” you announced, grinning.

He leaned against the back of the couch, arms crossed, trying not to smile too hard. “You charmed my Nonna. That’s dangerously powerful.”

“She said I had good manners. And taste — except in tiramisu.”

He laugh and put his hand on your hips.

A flicker of guilt tugged at you. Pretending in front of people who had welcomed you so warmly—it didn’t sit right. Maybe that’s why you weren’t letting yourself relax completely. You knew, sooner or later, this would all come to an end.

You slipped away to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, needing a moment to yourself. Luigi followed without saying a word. When you stepped into the room, his father was already there, leaning casually against the counter.

“You’re not joining the game, Dad?” Luigi asked, pulling a chilled bottle of water from the fridge. He grabbed a glass, filled it, and set it in front of you with a small smile.

“Thanks,” you murmured.

His father chuckled. “Your old man’s too ancient for that kind of chaos.”

“Oh, come on,” Luigi teased. “You’re just scared you’ll lose. Admit it.”

Luigi’s father gave a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he sipped his glass of wine. Then he looked at you, his tone softening.

“And you? You like games like that?”

You paused, fingers curling around the cool glass in front of you.

“I do,” you said slowly. “I used to play all kinds of silly games with my dad when I was little.”

There was a pause, the kind that feels like a breath held in the air.

“But… he passed away when I was twelve,” you added, your voice quieter now, steady but tinged with something deeper. “If I could play just one more game with him… I wouldn’t think twice.”

Luigi glanced at you, something tender flashing in his eyes.

His father was quiet for a moment, then straightened up and gave a small nod.

“Well,” he said, setting down his cup, “guess I better not waste the games I still can play.”

He gave you a gentle smile, then patted Luigi on the shoulder. “Let’s go. Before your aunt claims she’s undefeated.”

You smiled softly as he walked out of the kitchen, a little faster than before.

Luigi looked at you, voice low. “I’m so sorry”

You gave a half-shrug, blinking back the emotion that had snuck up on you. “Just telling the truth.”

He didn’t say anything right away—just reached out and gave your hand a quick, quiet squeeze.

He takes your hand and leads you into a room, quiet and empty. The moment you step through the door, recognition hits you — it’s his teenage bedroom.

"My old room," Luigi says, eyes gleaming with nostalgia. "What do you think?"

"I think… I would’ve been so jealous of you if we’d been friends back then. Oh my God — is that a GameCube? That’s insane. You really are the nerd I thought you were."

Luigi bursts out laughing.

"What was your favorite game?" He ask, curious.

"Mario Kart — the classic version. I used to play it at the mall, in the electronics section. What about you?"

"Wait, seriously? At the mall? Man... Zelda. Nothing beats Zelda."

"Yeah, we couldn’t afford one at home. So every time we went shopping, I’d spend hours in that aisle, just playing. You probably wouldn’t get that — you must’ve been rich, rich, rich."

You sit down on the bed, your eyes drifting to the bookshelf, packed with novels and games. You look at his photos with his family. And then, without warning, tears well up in your eyes.

"Hey, hey, hey," Luigi rushes over, dropping to his knees in front of you. "What’s wrong? Why are you crying?"

"It’s just… your family is so kind…"

"Hey, don’t cry. Come on, dry those tears. You’ll see them again soon, I promise. I want to see you smile, okay?"

You wipe your cheeks, and he pulls you into a warm embrace, leaving a trail of gentle kisses in your hair.

"I’m sorry about yesterday... when I brought up your dad. I didn’t know—"

"You didn’t know," you say softly, cutting him off. "It’s okay. I forgive you."

“I’ll walk you home,” Luigi offered.

You nodded, and both of you stood. Without a word, he took your hand. It caught you off guard, but you didn’t pull away. As you made your way through the house, you said your goodbyes—his mom wrapped you in one last warm hug and handed you a big container of food. His dad gave you a quiet, reassuring look.

Then you stepped outside together.

The drive back was quiet, peaceful. His playlist played softly in the background, filling the silence just enough. Neither of you needed to speak.

When you reached your place, he pulled up to the curb and turned to you.

“Thanks for coming,” he said, smiling gently. “Tonight was amazing. You were amazing.”

You smiled back. “I really loved it. Your family’s incredible—so genuine, so grounded. Time just flew by. Thank you.”

He gave a small nod, eyes lingering on you for a beat, then walked you to your door.

That was how the night ended.

•• Weeks later ••

Luigi got back together with his ex.

And you—quietly, completely—chose to never speak to him again.

As if none of it had ever happened.

Tags : @bean-is-reading @iinfinitelimits

[tateypots]

Sunrise

18+ MDNI

Summary: You love the sunrise, but it’s even better with Joel.

A/N: The wonderful @baronessvonglitter made me this beautiful moodboard as part of her 1000 follower milestone celebration and it’s so beautiful it finally gave me the kick I needed to write this little thing that has been sitting in my idea folder forever. So here’s some soft Joel just because.

I wrote this on my phone (and deleted it once by mistake 🤦🏻‍♀️) so there’s probably loads of mistakes!

Warnings: smut, soft Joel, established relationship, unprotected piv, lots of praise.

Sunrise had always been your favourite time of day. A natural early riser, you loved to watch the inky hues of night surrender to the golden yellows and oranges of the dawn as light filtered across the sky. You loved the way the quiet stillness is broken by gentle birdsong, soft and lilting before the bustle of daily life takes over. Another day broken, fresh and full of possibilities.

And ever since you’d met Joel Miller, you’d loved the sunrise even more.

You loved him more than you’d ever thought possible. He was firm and steady, strong but also playful and gentle. You loved his quiet dedication, to his work, his family, to you. He worked ceaselessly to ensure you were all taken care of, and you worked just as hard to make sure he was as well.

Mornings were spent in a rush of preparing breakfasts and lunches, making sure Sarah was washed and dressed, bag packed for school or soccer practice. Quick kisses and I love yous exchanged before rushing out the door. Days spent working or running errands before reuniting for family dinners and movie nights often interrupted by calls about his latest work project.

Even at night Joel was never off duty, often awoken by the patter of small feet, a little voice crying over a nightmare, needing cuddles from her dad to make the fear recede. At other times woken by a phone call, Tommy needing rescuing from whatever risky situation he’d found himself in, or on the really bad nights, bailing out of jail.

But at sunrise, he was just yours. No one’s boss, no one’s brother, no one’s dad. For that brief window you didn’t have to share him and you cherished it.

You got to see him peacefully sleeping as the golden light crept over his prone body, illuminating him in a glow that seemed to emanate from within. You got to take in his features, the beautiful face that you loved so dearly, his brow smoothed, the furrowed lines of his frequent frowns and scowls mere ghosts of themselves. The beautiful lines by the sides of his eyes that crinkled whenever he smiled. His strong aquiline nose that gave him a wise, regal bearing. The plush lips that were soft and plump and felt like heaven against your body. His strong neck, that one freckle you love to kiss and the vein you loved to nuzzle against and feel his pulse, strong and steadying. His strong arms and chest, sculpted by years of hard labour. You’d never wake him, knowing how precious his sleep was.

Yes, you loved to watch him, peaceful and content. The only thing you loved more were the days he awoke himself, pulling you into him with a sleepy groan and a rumbling ‘morning’ beautiful.” When he’d slot those beautiful lips against yours and kiss you like he’d never get another chance. When he’d roll you onto your back and kiss his way down your body, divesting you of clothes and spreading your legs as he went. When he’d rest his head against your thigh for a moment and admire your core like it was a renaissance painting, eyes full of wonder, “prettiest fuckin’ pussy I ever saw, gets prettier every fuckin’ day,” before diving in with his tongue, lapping at you in broad strokes until your hips bucked and you stifled your moans with a pillow. When he’d tease your clit, circling with the tip of his tongue, not enough pressure to get you where you so desperately needed, enjoying the keening and whines you let escape, knowing full well how to get you to abandon your pride and have you begging for him.

“Please Joel - oh fuck! Please!”

“Hmmm, what was that darlin’, I couldn’t quite hear?”

“Joel! Fuck, please baby, I need more, please!!”

“Oh there she is, my good girl asking for what she wants,” he’d respond before sucking your clit hard and laving his tongue over it perfectly, slipping one finger, then another inside you, the pressure of them entering you along with his sucking of your clit enough to launch you into orbit and have you clenching and spilling around his fingers.

You loved the way he’d push down his boxers, the sight of him rock hard and leaking, just for you. You loved the way he’d crawl back up your body and settle between your thighs. The way he’d capture your lips in another desperate kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as he slipped his throbbing cock into the welcoming heat of your body. You loved the way he’d moan into your ear as he sank further and further inside you, savouring every second.

You loved the slow drag of his cock in and out as he languidly fucked you, eyes never leaving yours, enjoying the way the world fell away when he had you like this, like you were the only 2 people in the world.

“That’s it baby, just like that. Gona take my time with you, gona fuck you nice and slow, just like you deserve.”

You loved the deep rumble of his voice in your ear, the way the vibrations made your whole body tingle with delight and he loved the sweet, soft moans you gave him with every plunge of his cock.

“My perfect girl, makin’ such pretty noises for me. Take my cock like a fuckin’ dream baby, like you were made just for me.”

You relish it. These times where he takes you slowly, passionately, no reason to rush. Not a panicked railing, chasing your highs quickly whenever you have a minute to yourselves before someone needs him. Not that you didn’t love that too. The thrill of knowing you could be interrupted at any time. The way his hips batter into yours, the strength of him blowing your mind every damn time. The desperate edge to his voice as he tells you he needs you to come for him, that he needs to feel it.

But like this it feels special. He makes you feel special. The way he moves you can feel every ridge and vein as he fills you up, it feels as though he’s igniting every single nerve of your pussy, the slow build up to something absolutely devastating.

And he never falters, his hips keep pumping in their slow steady rhythm, his stamina almost otherworldly as he soaks in the vision of you, spread open in ecstasy beneath him. It’s a vision that will burn itself onto his retinas until the next time he has you like this. Tucked away and treasured in his mind every time he closes his eyes.

“That’s it baby, doin’ so good for me.”

He loved the way you whine and cling to him, completely lost to the pleasure, to him. The way you look at him as though he is your everything, your whole world. Loved the way you pull him down to you, pushing your lips against his, messy, uncoordinated, desperate as your pussy pulses and drools on him.

“Can feel it comin’ baby, feel it buildin’. Gona be a big one, I can tell.”

And he’d be right. He’d make sure it was a big one. Big enough to have the memory last until the next time, make sure you feel how much he loves you.

And when he dropped his hand between you to rub those perfect circles on your clit, perfected in moments just like this it’s a foregone conclusion. He’d clamp a hand over your mouth to quiet the moans you’d no longer have control of as your body reaches the cataclysmic peak. It’s his favourite thing, the way you clench down on him, the way you shake underneath him, the way your arms wrap even tighter around him, the feel of your scream of pleasure being soaked up by his palm.

And still his hips would pump in that maddening slow rhythm, prolonging your high as long as he can, until you suck in a huge breath and he sees the clouds part from your eyes as you come back to yourself. Only then would he pick up his pace, chasing his own high now that he’d taken care of you. Putting you first, just like he wishes he always could.

His groans are like music to your ears, this is for him. Just for him and you loved the sounds of him losing himself in you.

You’d plant kisses on the side of his face you have access to.

“So good baby, always make me feel so good, always take care of me, I love you so much Joel.”

He’d groan extra loud for you at that and it has your pussy clenching again. You know just how to get him. Hearing you acknowledge how much you appreciate all he does, how much you love him, it’s his Achilles heel. You’d revel in it as his thrusts get erratic.

“Give it to me baby, I need your cum. Please baby, please!”

And he’d be done for. He’d give you anything you asked for. You’d feel it deep inside as his hips finally still. That delicious pulsing heat spreading throughout your core and it pushes you over once more, a smaller, quieter high but no less special.

You loved the way he’d slump on top of you. His energy spent. You loved the quiet moments where you’d just hold each other, no words needed. Peaceful in the golden glow of the morning.

Yes you loved the sunrise. But sunrises with Joel Miller hit different.

Tagging a few people who might be interested, no pressure to read, let me know if you want to be removed. @baronessvonglitter @magpiepills @milla-frenchy @aurorawritestoescape @itwasntimethatdidit40 @lilac-boo @evolnoomym @lamartell @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @axshadows

[anika-ann]

Restless Hearts - S.R.

Type: one-shot, established relationship, next-to-zero plot

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word Count: 6,2k

Summary: Moving in together with Steve is the dream come true – or it should have been. You didn't exactly have the chance to benefit from that since he shipped off to a mission for days and is only now coming back.

You grow restless. And to make it worse, you only get to reunite with him on this stupid pompous party instead of your home. Well. Just few more hours of socializing to survive.

You could handle that, right?

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, semi-public sex if you squint, unprotected sex, language, Steve being a menace, two idiots in love who can't keep their hands off of each other

A/N: written for the Smutty September Fest hosted by @mercurial-chuckles . Thank you for hosting 💕 I have chosen multiple prompts - finding a somewhat private area at a fancy party to f* and quickie where you don’t take any clothes off, just tug and pull and expose the essentials 🤭

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; enjoy y'all 🥰

Sparkling lights. Sparkling drinks. Elegant gowns and sharp suits. Subtle polite laughter and conversation occasionally interrupted by a louder exclamation and a genuine burst of laughter from the groups forming around those who knew how to charm a crowd. A non-descript music, one song bleeding into another, a few couples trying to find space on the dancefloor that had mostly changed into an agora, a space for conversation rather than for moving in well-practiced sync.

The dress skirt brushing over your knees and ankles, a slight chill on the back of your neck as someone opened the balcony doors, letting in fresh April air of New York City. The light stink of alcohol and sweat amongst the hundreds of expensive perfumes and colognes. The rich aftertaste of the sting of bubbles, sweet and spicy on your tongue.

The golden lights shone bright but intimate, reflecting in your champagne glass and prompting you to finish your first – and likely one of the lasts – drink of the night.

You weren’t much of a drinker. You indulged every once in a while, more of curiosity about what fancy brand the host had chosen for the occasion and a thing of courtesy, using the glass like a required social prop.

Such was the case tonight too – a fancy evening for investors and associates of the Earth’s mightiest heroes. Politicians, diplomats, government officials, high-ranking military officials and filthy-rich entrepreneurs – mostly not your crowd, to speak plainly. There was a slightly better company too, even if scarce: former agents and other colleagues – well-vetted beforehand, of course – scientists, non-profit representatives, veterans. Several Avengers too, of course.

But your favourite – the one who had brought you deeper into the world of superheroes – was yet to be found.  

Steve Rogers most definitely was your favourite; nearly flawless moral compass, loyal, protective of the less fortunate ones and his own. A fighter who had won and lost all too much; an artist, who saw beauty around him nevertheless. A kind soul with an enormous heart, perhaps a tad too big for his own body despite his impressive physique. Larger than life and yet somehow humble enough in his insistence that he was just a man, ordinary, like most; just lucky enough to had been given a chance to fight and to defend.

And to love.

Steve Rogers certainly was your favourite, as he should be; the goodness of the world distilled into one man, with a face and a body of worth of being sculpted by the masters of ancient arts, the warmest smile and a sparkle to his eye a testimony to his brilliant mind and wicked humour. All that at your fingertips; all that supposedly yours, as incredible as it seemed at most times.

He was yours.

Your boyfriend of four months and seventeen days.

Not that you had been counting; perhaps just a little. You were innocent in the matter, however; it was mostly your and Steve’s friends, teasing you about taking things slow. According to Bucky, had you been taking things at Steve’s desired pace, with how smitten he apparently was, he would have already had a ring on your finger.

You didn’t dare to judge, afraid of raising your hopes a little too much; however, there was something to be said about Steve Rogers in love. He made it clear; so painfully and blissfully clear, letting you feel his much-reciprocated adoration in hundreds if not thousands of little moments.

In his touch. In his words. In his actions.

Your demanding jobs perhaps did slow down your progress a bit, making even the settling on a day of your first date quite the feat; but it was one of those good things that made the waiting worth it.

If Steve was smitten, so were you; and while a proposal would feel rather rash, you certainly not at all thinking about how you’d probably say yes anyway, because you simply knew, you’d settle for moving in together.

You had moved in together, thirteen days ago.

And the move in that had left you with half-unpacked boxes, cold bed and an apartment lacking the true aura of a home, because the person you wished to build it with was godknowswhere in a middle of Siberia, having left after a passionate welcome-to-our-new-home and a message delivered at three damn forty a.m.

Steve had left the pleasant warmth of your bed at four, with a profound sleepy apology and a lingering kiss to your forehead.

Left for an off-grid no-contact mission. Lasting for days.

For all the faith you had in his skill and strength, the worry that came with him being away for so long without as much of a short text was eating at you; and then there was the matter of simply missing him, the empty feeling only accentuated by having expected to be nearer to him at last and getting this instead. You were an independent woman and you could live your life without a man just fine, but goddamn were you also a woman madly in love, missing your boyfriend.

And you were growing impatient.

You were still at your first drink, yes, but knowing Steve should appear at any moment did not help calm your nerves, the slightly uncomfortable but exciting swirl of anticipation of seeing him again – in a suit no less – as intense as the yearning for comfort of actually seeing for yourself that he was safe and sound.

He had texted you, at last, about four hours ago, that he was on his way, nothing but a couple of bruises already healing, looking forward to seeing you.

You had agreed to meet at the venue; he would be running last minute, or perhaps even fashionably late, grabbing a quick shower and a shave at his at-hand quarters at the Tower, just throwing on a suit he kept there for such occasions. You had offered to help – for the completely selfish reason of seeing him sooner and in private instead of in front of hundreds of watchful curious eyes – but he had sweetly refused, argumenting that at least one of you should be on time and promising he would find you first thing upon his arrival.

You would have grumbled if you hadn’t been soothed by the Love you, can’t wait to hold you again, he had texted after. He was a charming loveable bastard like that.

As the infamous murmur of excitement arose around you, bringing you back to the present, your eyes easily found the source of the commotion: Steve Rogers himself.

Your heart rate accelerating reminded you that not being able to meet Steve before the event might have been a blessing. Had you had the chance to get your hands on him, you two would probably end up being very much unfashionably late; a welcome home kiss would have simply not sufficed.

He was breathtaking.

The traditional black suit with navy blue glint was fitted for certain; tight where it should be, accentuating Steve’s absurdly broad shoulders and thin waist, pants no doubt hugging all the right places from behind somehow complimenting his long muscular legs too, pristine white shirt with a bowtie matching the suit; the soft blue reflection emphasized the colour of his eyes as they scanned the room without ever stopping his progress, his polite smile spreading wide when his gaze found yours, the blue of his irises turning warmer; the most beautiful feature to his face battling the magnificence of his sharply cut jaw.

The instant relief washing over you screamed of how anxious you had actually been before you had seen him alive and well; the warmth spreading through your veins whispered of comfort, a tidal wave of feeling at home after a long travel; the heat curling in your belly and sending sparkles through every nerve ending reminded you that your body had been missing him in all different ways.

Your gaze zeroed on his every step. He seemed to move too slow and too fast at once; and suddenly he was standing in front of you, one hand gently grasping yours, the other lightly laying on your waist, a chaste kiss to your temple lingering as your body naturally sought his and carefully leaned into his entirely publicly appropriate greeting. The familiar woodsy notes of his cologne and aftershave had your heartbeat pick up and instinctively move closer into his embrace and breathing in deeply, the scent going straight to your head; but following his lead, you didn’t get too close, letting the gentle timbre of his voice soothe your need for connection instead.

At last; he was home. He was here, with you, and his love, while contained in socially acceptable gestures, seemed to draw a protective circle around your pair, shining brighter and warmer than the lights and all the luxuries around combined.

“Hey sweetheart. It’s so good to see you,” he whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek this time, his eyes lit alive as he retreated, a hint of a smile still playing in the corner of his lips. “And you are absolutely stunning. Almost tripped over my feet the moment I set my eyes on you.”

Resisting the urge to tenderly slap his side at the exaggeration, at making your face burn hot – and something inside you purr with satisfaction since you had chosen your outfit with care, much like your makeup and hairdo – you gathered your composure, straightening your posture and charming a smile for him in return.

In one of many late-night conversations, when he had revealed his artistic side to you, he had admitted he loved to feast his eyes on all kinds of art from the most ordinary ones to the rarest; you had understood then that while a fighter and just a man in his core, his soul was a thing seeking beauty and goodness everywhere. In both things and people. A doodle could make him smile and hum in delight as much as a painting or a sculpture, he had said shyly; a building, an arrangement of flowers, a beautiful dress too. The last one, however, he had appreciated most on a woman as bewitching as yourself, he had told you, a tender finger on your jaw, a glint of dark mischief in his eye, lips slanting over yours and stealing your breath in a matter of a second; proving he was appreciative of you just as much when you were wearing nothing at all.

This time, however, you liked to believe he enjoyed the sight of you in the dress indeed; the top was hugging your curves like a second skin, the dark crimson fabric bled into a breeze-light skirt, shorter at the front, longer at the back, offering a less-than-scandalous but still teasing peek of your legs and clear view of your matching heels.

“It’s really good to see you too, love. And you look quite handsome yourself… I nearly dropped my drink upon seeing you,” you reciprocated with a small smirk, pointedly finishing your drink at last, heat flaring in your core when you caught Steve’s gaze lingering on your lips as they barely touched the edge of the glass, not leaving an imprint despite the dangerously red colour of your lipstick.

As you set your glass on the nearest table, you took a satisfactory note of Steve’s gaze flickering even lower, and bit back a smile.

As high as the neckline of your dress was, actually reaching half-up your throat and barely but chastely covering your shoulders, the oval-shaped cut stretching from between your collarbones down over your sternum was a rather intentional trap.

And your Captain had fallen right into it, his Adam’s apple bobbing before his gaze snapped back to your face, pupils wider, irises having gained just a tad darker shade. The fresh surge of confidence was almost as intense as the swoop of desire in your lower belly, sending your thoughts spiralling far away from a behaviour socially acceptable at an event like this.

It made you want to abandon the event and let it sort itself even if Steve had just barely arrived.

Who cared anyway? Steve deserved a proper rest after a taxing mission; rest and more, whatever his heart desired. And maybe not only his heart; if you were honest with yourself, you were only a hot-blooded human being like the rest of the world and were looking forward to truly greeting Steve home in all the ways imaginable.

You could control yourself in the public, of course, and you genuinely understood the importance of networking. But you should bring up simply taking Steve home for his own good; and you could profit from it all the same. From his proximity, from the privacy of your home, from getting your hands on the insanely handsome man’s body.

Whether he sensed the sparkles in the air you weren’t sure; but he leaned towards your face, his voice dripping slow and rich like honey from his lips brushing your ear, sinful despite the words being perfectly innocent.

“It works well then, honey.” He offered you his elbow, straightening his posture as if he was so damn proud to show off what kind of a woman he had on his arm. “Let’s go fulfil our duty of mingling so we can excuse ourselves as soon as possible.”

With his last words carrying alluring notes of an intimate promise, you conceded.

Nodding, you arranged your face in a polite smile, crafted to nonchalant perfection.

“Let’s go mingle indeed.”

Indeed, let’s work so we can sneak away and go home as soon as possible.

Your plan had gone a little awry.

In the glow of delight at Steve’s arrival, you had underestimated the number of people who found it their crucial mission to meet and greet and catch up with Captain America.

You had kept up the pleasant façade through all the conversations, nodding and chuckling politely when the situation called for it; but you were growing weary and you could feel tension gradually building in Steve’s shoulders as well, the way you remained connected by at least an inch of a touch at all times permitting you to observe the change.

You had thought it would help when you subtly nodded towards the dance floor; his smile turned much more genuine as he asked you for a dance, earning your pair a breather and a moment of shared intimacy for a few songs.

But you had been wrong in your strategy; if it were possible, Steve’s jaw appeared locked even tighter than before once your reprieve was deemed to last too long and you agreed to return to socializing. His touch grew into a hold; at moments, it was but a grip, until you felt him forcefully relax and ease the pressure.

You didn’t blame him one bit.

He must have been exhausted; away from home for so long, physically and mentally drained after an intense, albeit successful mission, forced to put on a mask for everyone else’s benefit, because Steve Rogers, to a point, was a poster boy. As much as he was trying to change that, working on allowing himself to show and accept his humanity, he remained the embodiment of a hero who never gave up and raised others on his own shoulders despite scratching the bottom of the barrel of his own energy.

He remained cordial and polite and a gentleman; he offered to get you a drink as you excused yourself to the bathroom, returning only to find him – visibly annoyed, for once – trapped in a conversation with Tony. A conversation which was probably not at all important, but apparently couldn’t wait, at least in Tony’s mind.  

“Such a charming woman, standing here all by herself. How is that even possible?” questioned a voice from your left just as you pondered rescuing your boyfriend, causing you to waver.

It was a very male voice. An unfamiliar voice.

And had it been Clint or Sam or Bucky, you’d laugh at the poor line, which would no doubt be told with a drop of teasing; or in Thor’s case, entirely genuine and fitting to Asgardian but not Midgardian ways. Hearing it from a stranger, though, that made you want to roll your eyes.

You were a strong soldier of God so to speak, however; you turned to the source of the voice with a smile with just a slightly sharp edge – one the tall lanky man was oblivious to, as it turned out – and greeted him with a measured Sir.

As he introduced himself, you learned that Mr. Doctor Bowers PhD. might have had two PhDs but none of them was in taking a goddamn hint. Because now you were sort-of trapped much like Steve was, the written and unwritten rules of courtesy not permitting you to make up an excuse of needing to go to the bathroom after you had clearly just come back.

You counted seconds, pondering how soon you could leave the man behind without appearing too rude. You got to a hundred when your patience truly was wearing thin.

He was still not taking any of the hints you had dropped. Worse, even. You weren’t presumptuous enough – unlike some people in the mostly one-sided conversation – to imagine the flirting. He was clearly attempting to flirt and was failing miserably. He was shameless about it too, even if a little condescending.

Ninety-four seconds later, you had enough of him and far too little of Steve; your skin seemed to be already burning where Steve had last touched you, yearning for the contact to return in a perhaps clingy, but entirely honest way.

And suddenly, as if some miracle provided by Asgardian magic, the touch was back.

Steve’s arm was curling around your waist, his side pressing to your hip, his lips making a gentle – and strangely electric – contact with your hairline.

“I’m sorry about the hold-up, sweetheart. Who’s your… friend?”

It was a little funny, really. The man matched Steve in height, but at the biting note in Steve’s voice, he shrank at least a foot and a half.

He introduced himself after clearing his throat, maintaining the remnants of his composure which all of sudden carried no hint of the wannabe seducer. You wanted to kiss Steve right on the lips right there for that alone.

Mr. Doctor PhD also probably regretted extending his hand for Steve to shake; because at Steve’s grip, no doubt stronger than necessary despite his entirely nonchalant mask of politeness, he actually winced.

You were no supporter of violence, much like Steve, which might seem ironic to some given his profession – but the lick of heat at seeing Steve put the guy into back into his place sent a shudder of undiluted want down your spine and straight into your core, your posture involuntarily shifting in response. Steve’s hold on you tightened.

“I have to talk to my girlfriend now, if you excuse us. See you around,” Steve said, already spinning you towards the exit to drive his point to the end.

You didn’t resist.

If anything, you couldn’t walk fast enough, regretting wearing heels and wishing for a pair of sneakers instead to sneak away from the party altogether at last.

Only when Steve led you further and further away from people, deeper into the complex, your heart began thundering in your chest; you noticed that the tension in his muscles you had worried about had grew tenfold and realized that his announcement about needing to talk to you might be more than an excuse.

“Steve, are you alright?”

“Fine,” he responded flatly, yet in a voice carrying hundred times more warmth than just a moment ago.

Right. And the Sun is blue, the pigs can fly and tachyons had always been proven particles of matter.  

You swallowed the snarky response, glancing at him as you barely kept up with his long strides; still, you could tell he was holding back, having seen him march with much more hurry and relentlessness.

“Thanks for the rescue, by the way. Really,” you pipped up, one corner of your lips rising despite your stomach turning tight at the unreadable expression on Steve’s face. “Guy simply couldn’t take the hint that I only have eyes for my Captain.”

An uncomprehensible grumbly noise vibrated in Steve’s chest, his arm sliding from your waist in favour of taking your hand in his instead.

Apparently, your attempt at cheering him up failed; you should have known.

The corridor was now completely devoid of people; you had arrived to the part of the floor with three small conference rooms, one an each of them dark and empty – because everyone was at the party.

Your smile turned truly nervous at that point, your mind racing as much as your heart. Steve wouldn’t have led you here unless he wanted to urgently talk about something important. You were a little baffled as to why hadn’t he opted for the elevator and his former quarters instead; but you didn’t question it as he placed his palm on the scanner and practically threw one of the doors open and all but pulled you in, some of the lights automatically flickering to life.

That was all that your ordinary human brain had time to register.

Because then Steve’s hand found firm purchase of your neck, cupping your jaw, lips slanted over yours with ferocity and passion that had your mind snap blank and set your body on fire, your hands limply landing on his firm chest.

Oh. O-okay.

More than okay.

You were forced to walk backwards, Steve’s other hand pressing against your hip to lead your step and steady you at once; an anchor you desperately needed in the whirlwind of puzzlement and madly stirred desire. Your lips parted in invitation just before your ass hit the conference table, an unvoluntary whimper escaping you when Steve’s body aligned with yours, every single part of him bare his lips tight and wound up, his hardness brushing against your thigh.

At the small sound so willingly consumed by his demanding kiss, he squeezed your hip harder, tongue exploring hundred-times explored with delight, air stolen from your lungs, your hands scrambling to grab his suit jacket to pull him even closer.

Who needed breathing anyway?

You didn’t. And you didn’t care how you got here either, be it desire fuelled by impatience or jealousy or the endless time apart, your choice of a dress or your lipstick which you knew Steve liked so much. You didn’t give a damn.

He was the spoilsport, releasing your lips and pressing his forehead against yours, his quick breaths fanning your face, hand from your neck sliding lower, an almost inhuman sound pushing through his teeth when his fingertips found the exposed skin on your breastbone, petting the soft spot adoringly.

You had not known until that moment how much you craved his touch precisely at that spot and how weak in the knees it could make you.

“Please say y-“

“Yes,” you gasped, instantly rewarded by his mouth on yours again with a muttered but hearty-

“God, I missed you-“

-dextrous fingers sliding under your skirts and hiking the fabric up as they travelled up your thigh, Steve’s pelvis rocking against yours, creating delicious friction against your core.

“I missed you too.”

Your hands went to roam over his freshly shaven jaw, over his shoulders, pushing the jacket off just to make him growl in frustration when he had to stop touching you for two full seconds to get rid of it.

“Sorry, want to feel you,” you apologized nonsensically, every single moment of his touch going straight to your head like a strong sweet wine, intoxicating and addictive, much like his scent, his taste, consuming all of your senses.

“Need to have you-”

“You have me,” you said breathily, a plea and a promise at once, thoroughly appreciated by a squeeze to your ass, fingertips wandering towards where you needed him the most--

And then Steve halted in his progress, body turning into a statue as he came in contact with bare skin, lips stilling on yours.

You gulped, trying to judge his reaction despite your haze.

You had had… a little incident when dressing up to the nines. Your broken nail nicked your thigh-high, sending a run up your calf. Uncharacteristically unprepared, you had found out if was your only pair. And sure. You could have run to a store. You could have express-ordered; stores would trip over their feet to deliver to Ms. Captain America in need. You could have worn a pantyhose.

And yet, your mind had steered you towards the drawer where you had kept tights specifically bought for a wholly different occasion than a social outing.

Why not? Your dress was long enough. And having hoped Steve’s mission would bring him home victorious and excited, having missed all of him terribly, you thought you might at least save some time once you two would be home.

Except you weren’t at home now. But that wasn’t on you – you were completely innocent in that matter.

Except you weren’t and your tights were conveniently sewn with a large enough opening to have Steve fit his hand or other parts of his body through, leaving but a flimsy lace panties in his way.

“Sweetheart?” he rasped, licking his lips as if to tempt you further, to confess your sins born of love and lust. He pulled back just an inch, to meet your gaze, his own pupils blown so wide only a thin ring of your beloved blue remained.

You gulped; not ashamed, not truly, perhaps a little apprehensive of his judgement. You had worn what was pretty much an erotic prop to a high-class event and had you not been careful and had had an accident, anyone seeing or god forbid snapping a picture…

“I… wanted to greet you home… and feel you as soon as possible,” you admitted silently, heart thundering in your chest, in your ears, in your temples, in your fingertips fisting the collar of Steve’s shirt.

A beat of silence.

Several wild beats of your heart.

“Christ, I love you-“

You were hoisted up on the edge of the table in a lightning speed and a mouth-watering display of strength, lips devoured by Steve’s with enough force to bend you backwards, the line of your soaked panties pushed aside to not waste time indeed as Steve’s fingertips dipped into your slick with a mutual groan of pleasure.

“Steve-“

“That’s right, honey,” he whispered, lips teasing the soft skin of your throat now, “I’m here now, all yours.”

He teased your lower lips back and forth, once, twice, three times too many and then he finally entered you with two fingers, a dark chuckle coming deep from his throat at the gasp of his name, stepping closer between your spread thighs to press your legs further apart.

He pumped his fingers with ease, driving you towards the stars at a dizzying speed, pressing a soothing kiss to your sternum when you cried out at him curling his fingers just right.

“That’s it, honey… sing for me. Just for me,” he pleaded, contradicting his plea by claiming your lips again and pushing deeper, faster, wicked,your whimpers swallowed greedily, all his, just like you were, on the brink of ecstasy.

You were trembling; in pleasure, in anticipation of absolute bliss, with Steve’s hand firmly pressed to your lower back to hold you close and annihilate you in the most exquisite way known to man. His words, his touch, the husky notes of his voice, the sheer need radiating off him and still making sure you were to steal the first round of fireworks just for yourself.

It exploded through your body without warning.

You broke with a cry of his name, lips freed just so he could hear the delicious sound, so beautifully seconded by his harsh breaths and so filthily accompanied by the wet sound of your pleasure you had no capacity to be ashamed of but revelled in instead.

You knew he did too. Because he had done that to you, for you. It was his and yours and both was a privilege; and lust incarnate, as he brought you down from your high gently as it be, his hand disappearing from your back in favour of undoing his fly and zipper.

Feel as soon as possible; no time to waste. Pants shoved down only as little as necessary, boxers following, a peek of a mouthwatering – and always a little intimidating – sight was all you got.

A small startled sound escaped you when you were being pulled further towards the edge of the table without a moment of reprieve, a chuckle bubbling in your throat at Steve’s impatience – but with no malice. God knew you understood; the moment the head nudged your entrance, coating him in your slick, your orgasmic bliss was long gone, replaced by even more acute need.

You wanted him. Now. All of him. Wanted to feel him deep inside you, wanted him to fill you so completely as only he ever could, devoured by him, desired and loved.

And you wanted to make him feel as delirious with pleasure as he had made you a moment ago, wanted to make his world so hot it turned white for a moment, make his knees buckle with the force of his release.

Your gaze met his, eyes feasting at the beautiful panting mess he already was, all pristine in his suit and bowtie and ready to ruin and be ruined, lips crimson and kiss-swollen and parting with a groan as he slowly pushed into you.

“Look at me, Steve. Want you to see what you do to me,” you whispered, the little broken sound pushing past his lips the only warning you got before he snapped his hips forward with a curse on his lips and sheeted himself fully inside you at once. God, so fully and suddenly that all air got knocked from your lungs.

His hand grasped your jaw, tender but firm, a dangerous glint in his eye, thumb running over your painted lower lip.

“Oh I’m looking, honey.” His gaze flickered down as he retreated almost all the way out, shining with your arousal, and thrusted deeply again, causing your eyes to flutter shut. “And there’s nothing prettier than you falling apart for me, so let. Me. See you.”

He accentuated every word with a sharp snap of his hips, stroking and stretching your walls over and over, setting a rhythm, teasingly slow and punishingly quick, hand and lips roaming, grabbing and caressing, kisses all teeth and all soft, grip on your hips keeping you still to assure he could take you exactly as he liked and encouraging you to roll your hips at your pace as you balanced on the edge of the table all the same.

“Missed you.”

“Love you.

“Need you.”

“So good for me.”

“I’m so damn lucky.”

“Please.”

“Look at me.”

“Give it me, honey.”

Your head was spinning as you were consumed by bliss, spiralling towards your peak so fast you couldn’t tell anymore which words were yours and which were his, where you ended and he began, clinging to each other as you were carried higher and higher, your ears ringing and still allowing you to hear the clinks of the belt buckle and the sinful sound of your rapid love-making; like a lightning running through yours very being, you shattered with a high-pitched whimper of Steve’s name, an echo of a hoarse voice stringing curses and praise barely reaching your conscience.

You panted against Steve’s shoulder as he curled around you, minuscule movements of hips to ride out both of your highs, soft words spilling from his lips as he was barely caching breath himself.

You took a minute, maybe two or five, still, clinging to him all the same, the heady scent of sex and sweat weighing down the air, your tongue heavy and throat parched, fingers carding through Steve’s damp hair softly.

And still, you chuckled breathlessly as Steve kept running his warm hand up and down your back, the sound causing him to press a kiss to your lips that tasted of apology for some reason.

“Well…”

“I’m sorry for pouncing on you, sweetheart,” he muttered, a genuine note of regret nearly lost in the pleasure carried over to his voice.

Your smiled must have looked exhausted, you thought; but blissed out.

Oh, your sweetheart of a boyfriend. As if you hadn’t just both enjoyed this tremendously. Surely, he didn’t really mean it, did he?

“I’m sorry for sort-of setting a trap then…” you followed suit, the words feeling simply wrong on your tongue. “Except I’m not.”

At that, Steve lifted his head, meeting your gaze, his eyes sparkling with mischief and desire still.

“Me neither.”

You grinned, trying not to be acutely aware of his hardness still stretching you to your fullest.

Of course he wasn’t entirely satisfied. One round had barely even been enough.

“That’s what I thought. Good.”

He mirrored your expression, his grin a little boyish and devilish at once, his expression soft but somehow everything but innocent.

Yet, he caressed your face with his fingertips with tenderness, from your damp temple over your cheekbone to your jaw, gently pressing against your lips.

“I love you. And I missed you. So much. I swear I just wanted to go home – take you home, the moment I walked in,” he admitted, causing your smile to turn sympathetic.

You knew all about that; it was all you had been truly thinking about the whole evening.

“I know the feeling.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh…” you trailed off, sensations slowly returning to your body outside the all-consuming pleasure. You felt like you were burning; sweaty and fucked-out for the lack of a better term, most of your body tingling… You chuckled self-deprecatingly. “God, my legs shake so much… what did you do to me?”

Steve’s hands moved to your thighs as if he needed to feel it and steady the trembling, to help, teeth worrying over his lip, just a hint of guilt – and a whole lot more of something you didn’t dare to decode, because those were some dangerous waters.

You expected him to pull out and help you stand then, clean up; after all, he was a gentleman like that, always supporting you.

He did the former, tenderly so as not to hurt you; but not the latter. When he carefully left your body and you tried to stand, he halted your movements with tightening his hold on your thighs, his gaze roaming all over you as you glanced at him all with puzzlement.

“Steve?”

“Maybe you should lie down,” he suggested lowly, his gaze flickering from your still quaking legs to the opening of your dress on your chest and to your lips and then back.

You swallowed against your dry throat.

The dangerous waters you hadn’t dared to explore roared in the back of your head, a shudder of scalding heat running through your body.

He hadn’t cleaned up. He hadn’t tucked himself in. He was still… as always---he-

You licked your lips, your heart stumbling so hard in your chest it was almost painful.

Wordlessly but with his blown pupils observing you like a hawk, one of his hands moved to your shoulder, gently pushing, encouraging you to lie down on the desk indeed.

And who were you to protest? His gaze was once again pleading and challenging you.

Please, say yes.

Like a fallen angel coaxing you to sin; and you’d all but follow hm straight to hell, because you knew he’d show you heaven unparalleled.

The table was cold and unforgivingly hard against your back, but you didn’t care; all you cared about was Steve looking at you like that, like you were a goddess and a prize he had sworn to win, guiding your leg up to rest your ankle against his shoulder, his hot mouth pressing a kiss to your calf. His other hand pushed his pants and boxes down his legs this time, before he reached for your other leg and wrapped it around his waist, once again nudging your sensitive opening.

“Just one more, honey,” he coaxed you, as if you needed convincing, as if the tremble of your body hadn’t turned from blissful and exhausted to one of anticipation. “Just one more and then we’ll go home…”

He pressed another kiss to your calf and met your gaze as he slowly sank back in with ease, something devilish and painfully alluring flashing in his eyes as a shudder ran through your body, sensitive from your earlier activities.

“And when we’re there, I’ll take you once more… once for every day I would have made love to you, had I been in our home with you as I should have.”

In the haze of your mind, the math didn’t seem to math or even matter, even though you felt it should.

But for now, all you could focus on was Steve, finally with you, and soon coming to your shared home with you, at last.

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

The event's masterlist

*chuckles* I’m in danger🥹

I hope Steve makes sure she’s hydrated and eats something in between🤭 And maybe gets some sleep; not all of us are supersoldiers 🥹

ANYWAY. Thank you for reading! Drop feedback if you're willing and may September bring you many smutty cozy evenings and peace 💕

[lunajay33]

It’s You❤️‍🔥 Part.2

Summary: You went along with Bella to Italy to save Edward, but when you get there things go unexpectedly and you become mate to the strongest Volturi guard

Pairing: Felix x human female reader

Warning: Mention of blood, bit of angst

Part.1

•Masterlist•

It’s been a week since I’ve been living in the Volturi castle in Italy, for the first few days I stayed in my room that I shared with Felix, the bed was mainly mine since he doesn’t sleep but sometimes I craved for his touch at night to help calm me to sleep

It was late at night and I was ready for bed, Heidi was another vampire I grew close to, she was easy to talk too and made me feel at home, she even went out shopping and bought me a much of new clothes, including the silk deep red night dress I was wearing right now as I was cuddled alone in the bed I so desperately want Felix in but alas he had guard duty

Finishing my book I laid it aside when the doors open revealing the one vampire I was missing, I could feel my heart quicken and my smile brighten as he walked towards me

“You’re back! I missed you” I said jumping in his lap as he sat on the bed, his strong arms quick to tighten around my waist

“Oh how I missed you too amore, what a sexy dress and my favorite color too, such a tempterous” he said as his eyes roamed my body his hands squeezing my hips

“Heidi picked it out, I was hoping you’d like it” I said placing my hands on his hips

“Oh amore I don’t like it I adore it, I adore you” he said nuzzling his nose into my neck, he had admitted that he loved doing this because I was warm and he craved my scent

“I was wondering….i mean only if you want to of course….would you maybe stay with me in the bed tonight? I know you don’t sleep but I want to feel you next to me while I sleep” he raised his head and smiled gently

“I’d be honoured” in a flash he changed out of his daily work clothes into a pair of grey sweatpants and a slim fitted black long sleeve top, his form showing beautifully in this attire compared to the jacket he usually had on, only making me crave him more

Climbing into bed next to me I curled into his side flaring my legs over his lap as my head rested on his arm, his other hand come to rest on my hip, he was hard and cold but god did it feel right

“Sleep my little one, you need your rest”

“You’ll stay right?”

“All night, I’ll be here when you wake” and slowly I drifted off into the best sleep I’ve had since being here

I woke up finally feeling relaxed looking up to see Felix was still holding me with a book in his other hand

“Good morning handsome!” I smiled as I sat up rubbing my eyes

“Morning amore, sleep well? You were talking in your sleep a lot” he smirked

“Oh no what did I say?” Nervously fiddling with my fingers not remembering anything I might have dreamed about

“Nothing crazy just mumbling my name a lot, were you dreaming of my little one?” He asked as he grazed his hand over my exposed thigh

“Umm I don’t remember….oh god this is so embarrassing” I groaned trying to look anywhere but his piercing ruby eyes

“Don’t be I quite enjoyed it, even though I love being with you darling I have to get to the throne room for the day” he said as he stood up and walked over to our shared wardrobe and I watched as he stripped out of his clothes leaving him in a pair of black boxers, his back was muscular and strong, his legs like tree trunks and when he turned his abs had me weak

“Like what you see darling?” He laughed as he pulled on his work clothes

“Was your body sculpted by the gods wow” my mouth agape from awe

He finished getting ready then was kneeling infront of me at the side of the bed

“I’ll see you this evening, I have something special planned, wear something nice and meet me in the gardens amore” he smiled placing a gentle kiss to my hair line before he was gone

Times like this made me feel incredibly self conscious, he was beautiful not a single flaw and I was just a human, my hair had bust offs, my skin wasn’t spot less like marble as his was, my body wasn’t extremely toned like his, what did he see in me?

Grudgingly I dragged myself out of bed and pulled on a pair of casual leggings and hoodie for now, putting my hair into a ponytail and leaving the room in hopes to find Heidi

Thankfully it wasn’t hard finding her in the library as she was sat on a leather couch flipping through a fashion magazine, she quickly looked my way as I head towards her, plopping myself down on the couch beside her

“Y/n! Is everything okay you’re looking a bit down hun” she said as she placed her magazine to the side giving me her full attention

“I’ve just been insecure I guess, I may or may not have seen Felix’s body this morning and he’s just so perfect I mean how does he not have girls hanging off of him and he gets saddled with me, I know we’re mates but I feel like he’ll get bored of me and realize he can have so much better” I said as my face flushed and I could feel the tears well in my eyes

“Oh hun don’t think like that, trust me he adores you, you should hear the way he fawns over when he’s talking with Demetri, he thinks the world of you, he worships the ground you walk on just give it time everything will itself out”

“Thanks Heidi I appreciate it, hey Felix said he had something special planned tonight and said I had to dress nice, and seeing as you’re an expert in everything fashion wanna help me get ready” I asked hoping to cheer the mood and distract myself

“Omg I’ve been waiting for this day! Let’s go!”

Heidi did one last curl in my hair and we were finally done, she had me all dolled up like I was going to a ball

“How do you like it?!” She asked looking at me through the mirror

“I love it thank you so much! I feel like a princess” my dress was a deep grey covered in sparkles stopping at my mid thigh, a black lace cover over my shoulders, my makeup subtle but classy with sparkles on my eyes

“Because you are a princess, now it’s about time Felix will be getting off now go make his jaw drop” she smiled pushing me towards the door

I made my way through the long winding hallways, pushing open the back door finally feeling the fresh night air, the garden glowing with the little decorations the Volturi members each added, suddenly a gush of wind whipped by me, I smiled turning around hoping to see Felix but was faced with someone I wasn’t formally acquainted with, I’ve seen him around sometimes but he was usually lurking in the shadows giving me an unsettled feeling thankfully I was always with Felix but now that I’m alone I felt fear, complete fear as his eyes roamed every inch of me

“Why don’t you look exquisite, and here all alone what a treat” his smirk widening from ear to ear

“Felix is gonna be here any minute you better leave” I said anxiously as I stepped back

“Well I better hurry then” in an instant he was on me pushing my hard to the ground knocking the wind out of me, I tried to push him away but it was no use and I could feel my life flash before my eyes, this isn’t how I wanted to go I didn’t wanna go at all I only just found my soulmate, life was just starting and the only thing I could think of to hopefully save me was scream

“FELIX HELP ME” the scream i let out was desperate and blood curdling but i was too late as pain seared through my shoulder, his death dug deep into my flesh, i could feel my blood run down my back

Almost just as quickly as he latched on he was ripped away, by who I don’t know because the venomous pain coursing through my shoulder was distracting, excruciating, soon Felix was leaning over me panic written all over his face, Demetri on my other side

“FELIX IT BURNS MAKE IT STOP” I screamed again

“You can do it Felix, she’s not ready yet” Felix looked conflicted before he huffed a breathe he didn’t have and sunk his teeth into the previous wound sucking out the venom as soon as that scorching pain subsided I became weak as Felix clung to me

“Felix she’s clean, you’re taking too much” with a snap he was off me, my blood dripping down his face, scared, worried

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you mio amore, I should have been here” he said as he laid my head on his lap

“You saved me Felix, this wasn’t your fault…….I…I love you” I said weakly before I faded into unconsciousness

Waking up the light beaming through the window bothering my eyes, quickly shielding them as the bed dipped beside me

“Thank god you’re awake, I was so worried Angel” I turned seeing Felix, his skin paler than usual, eyes as black as coal which ive never seen before

I raised my hands tracing my fingers over his cool cheek

“Are you okay? You look sick if that’s possible”

“You’ve been out for 2 days I couldn’t leave your side, I haven’t been feeding I just needed to be with you” he smiled pushing my hair back

“I’m okay, a little sore but I’m fine because of you, you still need to take care of yourself too tho my love” he nuzzled into my hand which warmed by heart

“I wish the night went differently I had so much planned for us” he said as he climbed into the bed next to me so I could cuddle into him, everything felt right again

“I had a whole picnic for us, well you mostly, the moon was gonna be illuminating us and I know you love that, then I was gonna present you with a gift I have had with me since I found out about mates millennia ago” my heart pumped with excitement I sat up to look at him

“You have a gift for me!”

“Yes amore here I’ve held onto it long enough, now it’s with the one I got it for” he said reaching into his pocket and pulling out a long thin box

He opened it to reveal a gorgeous bracelet, one you’d never be able to find even in the last 100 years, a unique gold chain with added gold tiny flowers along the chain and at the center a ruby crystal surrounded by more flowers

“Felix it’s beautiful, I love it! Would you help me putting it on?” I asked as I gave him my wrist which he was quick to place the bracelet around

“It’s beautiful on you amore, it was made for you” he smiled as he placed a kiss to my hand like a gentleman

“I love you Felix”

“I love you more than you could ever know little one”

Taglist: @rosaliedepp @parabatai-winchester