#drag shows are fun and harmless

[handspunyarns]

[drop-the-curtain-123]

ok very specific gripe about assassination classroom

But how comes the series is all "be yourself, use your hobbies, despite everyone judgement, for good" then just... Never questions the roasting of Mimura air guitaring?

Look at my boy! He's so unwell afterwards

Ik now there are more scenes later in the manga that again use it as a Punchline. It just encapsulates that weird gap of "things that are just never Not the Joke/Mocked" which kind of defeats the show messaging 😭

t's not even used in a "do it anyway, grow strong and proud" like some others, it's just. There.

(hi rinka btw happy belated birthday to you)

Anyway unconsequential nitpicking rant over, have a good day.

[mrsbarnesblog]

just us

masterlist

summary: a situation between pogues and kooks at the beach made Rafe rethink his priorities

word count: 1.8k.

warnings: season 4 spoilers, established relationship, mention of the dead turtle, that hoe Ruthie, protective Rafe

a/n: i'm obsessed with season 4, y'all. absolutely in love with everything that's going on and especially with Rafe being in a better place with a girl that he actually likes 🥹 this scene at the beach with turtles just made me sob, so I really need someone to drag that bitch by her hair. sorry not sorry.

Your heart was beating with adrenaline from the scene that just happened at the beach, with Topper’s girlfriend almost running over the pogues and being the usual insane bitch that she was. Rafe stood beside you, silent but shaking his buzzed head in disapproval.

Kie was standing on her knees on the sand, in shock, with juice still dripping down her face and hair. She brushed off the help of her friends, instead standing and picking something up from the ground, without hesitation, going towards the group of people around you. They seemed absolutely delighted by the whole situation, laughing, fist bumping each other, and making you want to punch every single one of them in the face. 

You didn’t even want to be here in the first place, not with a bunch of people with whom you shared mutual hatred towards each other. Rafe was your only connection with them, and it seemed like even for him it was a bit too much. A fun day at a beach with a little surfing competition, where even Topper and JJ seemed to have some fun together, took the wrong turn way too quickly.

“Look what you did! Is this okay?” Kie stopped in front of Ruthie, reaching out her hand to show something that you weren’t able to see, but by the look on her face it was obviously serious to her. “There was a turtle hatch, you idiots! You drove right over it!” Your stomach twisted at the realization, and you took a step closer to see it yourself. 

“Oh my God.” You whispered, catching a glimpse of a tiny dead turtle with a crushed shell laying in the palm of her hand. So little and harmless that the picture of it brought tears to your eyes. 

“Don’t look, baby.” Rafe’s deep voice mumbled near your ear, with a warm hand sprawled across your back to try to distract you, but you shook your head, unable to take your eyes off it. 

“All right, but it was only one.” Ruthie said with her usual attitude, nonchalantly pointing to the rest of the turtles that, luckily, were perfectly fine. Your mouth opened in disbelief, and you looked at Rafe to see him uncomfortably rubbing the back of his head. 

“I’m so sorry, Kie…” You whispered to her, stepping further away from the kooks, eyes drifting again to the dead animal in her hand. No matter how hard you tried to fit in with Rafe and his friends, you could never be one of them if it meant to be a bunch of pompous and cruel rich kids. You thought that, maybe it was time for you to finally admit that. 

“It’s not your fault, Y/N.” She briefly looked at you, because despite not being friends, there never were any arguments between you and the rest of the pogues, always keeping cool and friendly with each other. “There’s something wrong with you, people.” Kiara looked back at the kooks with disgust written all over her face. 

“I’m leaving, Rafe.” Barely holding back your tears, you looked back at your boyfriend, before picking up your beach bag from the sand and turning around. “I’m sorry again for them, Kie.”

“No, wait, Y/N.” He pushed through the crowd, wide-eyed, quickly approaching you and grasping your wrist. “This is not—“

“I don’t want to be here. I didn’t sign up to hang out with your friends when I started dating you, okay?” You groaned in frustration, attempting to move, but Rafe stopped you. “I don’t even know why we’re here, why you are here, when you clearly don’t enjoy it anymore.” 

“Listen, this is not so easy, okay?” He rolled his eyes, but you knew it was not fully directed at you; Rafe was already struggling with trusting those around him, and the fact that you slowly but steadily made him reconsider his current surroundings did not help. 

“You are not like them, they are not your friends, don’t you understand it?” The pure desperation was speaking in you, searching for the answers in his eyes. You overheard some people laughing at you, as they were too confident that Rafe would never listen to someone like you, someone from the cut, not even realizing the war that was currently going on in his head. 

He was silent, thinking, making his already overwhelmed mind go hundred miles per hour to figure something out, because you were right. The more time had passed, the more the two of you were together, the less Rafe found himself enjoying the presence of his old friends, the less he wanted to do that childish bullshit. 

“This dumb fucking bitch almost ran over people and killed an innocent animal because her big ego got hurt, do you understand?! So I’m leaving. Alone or with you.” You almost whispered the last part to him, too scared that he'd not choose you. At the end of the day, you were a pogue, and no matter how much you tried, you would never be good enough for Rafe. 

“What did you just call me?” Ruthie arched a brow, now shooting daggers at you. 

“I called you a dumb fucking bitch, didn’t you hear me?” You spat, finally having a good enough reason to tell the truth right in her face. “Or are you too stupid to get that through your thick scull?” 

“That’s rich, coming for a pogue. It’s just a cycle of life. And if you, losers, are so offended by that, it’s not my problem.” 

“A cycle of life? Getting flattened by a truck is not a cycle of life.” Kiara pushed Ruthie with her hand, and it nearly turned into a fight, with JJ standing by his girlfriend's side. You turned away from them, too frustrated and drained to bother listening to the rest of the conversation, your gaze shifting to Rafe, who still held your hand.

“I want to leave. Stay here if you want to, I don’t care. I’m done with them, Rafe.” Your teary eyes met his blue ones, and he shook his head, pulling you closer with your forearms. The mere thought of you leaving him, angry and upset, triggered a whirlwind of panic within him.

“Hey, no, I’m not staying, okay?” Rafe's hands, now much gentler and delicate, touched your cheeks, wiping away a few tears that you could not keep back. Rafe had never been too comfortable with the display of emotions, and he was pretty sure that it was the first time he had actually seen you cry. And he knew how much you had always carried for animals, how you petted every stray cat or a dog on the street, and how you hated any form of violence against them. 

The pulsating and aching feeling in his chest at the sight of your tears made him want to drop everything, or rather, eliminate everyone who had upset you, and just hold you in his arms. 

“Aw, look at you.” You heard that annoying voice behind you back again, pulling you out of the bubble in which you fell, and turning around, you saw that Kie and JJ were no longer there. Your eyes instantly rolled back as Ruthie looked at you with her usual fake sympathy, crossing her arms over her chest. “Go back to your side of the island, you’re not one of us. Don’t even know why Rafe bothers to bring you here when you’re just another dirty toy to—“

Rafe left your side before she could finish her sentence, looming over her with the most furious expression you had ever seen on his face. Everyone and everything seemed to fall silent for a moment, and you held your breath, unsure what he would do. “Wanna say some bullshit about her? Try to do it right in my face and see what happens.”

“You’re not seriously protecting the pogue. She’s not on our side.” Her smile faded, her eyes now nervously looking between Rafe and Topper, who was standing behind her back. 

“C’mon, Rafe…” He started, but quickly shut his mouth as soon as Rafe turned his head towards him with a silent threat. You felt your heartbeat quickening as the atmosphere started to get even more intense. Everyone around you also started arguing and saying God knows what, but Rafe was awfully calm, and it frightened you even more. 

You moved closer to them as you made your way through the warm sand, until you were able to place a comforting hand on your boyfriend's back. He was so tense under your touch that it amazed you how the hell he was not shaking because of it. The only times you had ever seen him behaving that way was when people whispered something about his father behind his back.

“It’s okay, Ray.” You whispered, kissing his shoulder and sliding your hand down his back to take a hold of his bicep. 

“You’re lucky that I don’t hit women. But if I hear a single word about my girlfriend again, you will regret it, I promise you." Your stomach flattered from the way he protected you, from the way his friends opened their mouths in shock at his words. Even Topper and Kelce were too stunned to speak, sending each other weird glances. “Control, your crazy bitch, Top.” 

As if nothing had happened, Rafe stepped back, throwing a protective hand over your shoulders and guiding you away from the group. He was silent for a whole walk towards his truck, only stopping near the passenger door and turning you to face him. 

His worried blue eyes were almost shining under the bright and hot sun and you saw words forming in his head and sitting at the tip of his tongue. You waited another minute, while Rafe was focused on your necklace, thinking. His hands found a place on your waist, rubbing circles into your skin, until he finally took a deep breath and looked up. 

“You’re right.” He said simply. “I’m not this person anymore. That shit with racing with pogues was fun and all, but I didn’t like what happened today.” You half smiled, nodding and encouraging him to talk. “If—if I want to be like my dad, I need to have my priorities straight. No more of this bullshit, no more fake ass people, yeah? You’re the only one who's been here for me for a long fucking time. You’re the only one who I can trust, baby.”

His hand cupped your cheek, eyes focused solemnly on you, before he lowered himself closer to you to place a kiss on your lips. 

“This is the right decision. You’ve overgrown them, you’re a better man now. And i’ll be here for you whenever you need me, I promise. I guess it’s just us now." Your body sagged against his, too wrapped in the comfort of his presence to even care about anything else. Your lips brushed against his, making Rafe groan.

“Just us, baby.”

[iniquitousyearning]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

fuckfest. the slytherins — groupsome / drunk sex.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. | 2024.

summary: malfoy manor is a great place for drinks, laughs, and…. orgys?

warnings: 18+ MDNI, SMUTTTTTT, porn with negative 100 plot, literally just sex and mentions of alcohol, group of uni students that love to consensually gangbang when they have the chance (sorry i’m cackling at that), pansy and reader kiss a few times, multiple orgasms from some of the boys, anal sex, fingering, oral.

Habits are simple, predictable things, slipping into your life without much thought. Some are reckless, some harmless. And some, well—some come with the taste of someone else's lips.

You're not sure when kissing Pansy Parkinson became one of them. What started as a drunken dare, a little more fun than you'd planned for, has now undoubtedly turned into something else—something almost close to ritual. With every night that stretches long, every round of drinks that comes too fast, it's inevitable that your lips will find hers at one point or another, like clockwork.

And a habit is just a habit, but this one—this one you never feel like breaking.

"You ever try body shots with tequila?" Pansy whispers, breath warm against your lips as her smirk hooks you, the same way it always does.

"Plenty of times." You grin back, your mouth barely brushing hers. "What, you want me to lay back for you, Parkinson? Shirt pulled down—or off?"

Theo whistles, and Pansy giggles. They've seen this before, watched it unfold in countless variations, yet it's still equally as entertaining every single time.

"Pull it down, take it off, whatever gets me there faster." She's already moving, grabbing lime and salt with hands that are too steady for how much you've all been drinking. "You know I won't complain either way."

You pour her a shot, liquid gold catching the dim light in the room. You feel the weight of every inebriated gaze on you—Draco, Blaise, Enzo, Mattheo, Theo—all of them watching, same way they always do when you and Pansy put on a show.

You blink and she’s back in front of you, lime and salt in hand. You feel bold, drunk on the moment as you hook your fingers under the hem of your shirt, leaning into her kiss only to break it as you pull the fabric over your head. The boys shift around you—more whistles—and Pansy's hands find your face, greedy and gentle all at once, barely giving you a moment to toss the shirt aside before she nudges you onto your back.

"You're so fucking hot," she purrs, slinking between you and the boys who are seated around the table, grinning. "Tilt your head, that's it—here—"

She nestles the cool shot glass between your tits while sprinkling the salt on your neck—then, the lime slice is between your teeth before you can even register it, and now you're staring straight at Blaise—his dark eyes roving over you like a feast, lips parted just enough that you can imagine the feel of them pressed against your own.

Your thighs tense, heat pooling low in your stomach.

"The boys wanted a show," Pansy whispers as she pulls off her own shirt. "They'll get one."

You hum in agreement and she works like she's done this a hundred times— shot glass disappearing between her lips, tossing the tequila back before she sets it aside— warm tongue dragging along the line of salt on your skin, moving up to suck juice from the lime between your lips. She meets your eyes for what feels like a split second before the lime is yanked free and her mouth is on yours, lips tasting like tequila and salt and something wild—

You close your eyes against the flood of sensation—the alcohol, the heat, the spinning of the room—and kiss her back with equal fervour. Her lips crush yours, sloppy and wild, a thousand impulses spinning through your mind and inevitably, you're too weak to fight them, tugging her closer as a result.

Pansy huffs, fingers curling into your hair as she crawls on top of you—straddling your hips on top of the table as one hand slips down to your chest. The boys are muttering things that you can't hear as the kiss is frantic now, teeth grazing, tongues tangled, the taste of lime and tequila lingering in each exhale.

"Gods, Pansy," you gasp into her mouth, hands sliding down her waist, digging into the fabric of her skirt. "You're insatiable."

She pulls back just enough to smirk, breathless, her dark eyes glinting. "I could say the same about you, babe."

You feel the tension in her greedy fingers as they curl against your scalp, her weight pressing you down into the table, and suddenly—all the teasing, all the playing at flirting feels too far away—you need her closer, need to take control back, need to feel her beneath you instead of towering over you—

"Pans—" your hands find her hips, gripping tight as you push against her, trying to flip her onto her back—but in your haste, you misjudge the edge of the table and before you can stop her she's tumbling forward, off the side, straight into Draco's lap. "Oh—shit—"

Everyone gasps, the room pausing for a moment and you're vaguely aware of Blaise's hands clutching your waist, pulling you steady into his lap as you teeter off the table too, the tequila making your head spin. Pansy is sprawled over Draco on the floor, skirt hitched high enough to give the rest of you a perfect view of her ass—to which everyone in the room is admiring. Shamelessly.

It's a spectacle—and the boys have always loved a fucking spectacle.

"Merlin's sake—" Draco grunts as Pansy slumps over him, straddling his waist. You catch the way his hands grip her thighs, fingers flexing like they don't quite know what to do with themselves. "Always the bloody dramatics with you two.”

"I'm not even sorry." Pansy grins, unrepentant as ever as she leans into Draco's neck, teasing like nothing's even happened, like she's perfectly content to remain there, straddling his lap. "You make a good seat."

Draco scoffs, and Theo snickers from across the table.

"You're a menace." The words from Draco's lips sound a lot like praise, and something about the way his eyes flutter shut when Pansy's tongue finds the sensitive skin at his throat makes your mouth go dry. "You're alright, though?"

"Fine," she murmurs, though her tone suggests she's thinking of anything but her well-being. "Totally fine." Her fingers brush over his chest, tracing the buttons of his shirt. "Are...are you fine?"

"I'm—" his voice catches when her fingers undo the first button. "I'm fine."

"You are," she agrees, voice a little hoarse, as she undoes the second, then the third. "Very, very fine."

Draco's face flushes, and there's a sheepish edge to his smile as his hands—almost without thought—begin to slide higher, fingers trailing under the hem of her skirt, pulling it just a little further up her hips. Her eyes flutter closed for just a second as he settles over the curve of her ass, and there's a spark, a shiver of something between them—

Your gaze flicks to Blaise, feeling his presence at your back—solid, grounding, the warmth of his chest pressed against you as you lean into him. You don't have to see him to know he's watching, though you find the confirmation anyways, his dark eyes tracing every movement, every shift between the two heated Slytherins on the floor.

When you glance back, you see the boys are all watching, too—Theo, Enzo, Mattheo—all glued to the sight, silent in their anticipation.

Pansy grinds down, and Draco's head tips back, eyes closed, hands clinging to her hips, her ass, anywhere he can find—

"They don't waste any time, do they?" Blaise murmurs, words a tickle at your pulse, the sound of his voice pulling you back into your own body, your own skin.

You shiver as his fingers trail lightly up your ribs, teasing the edge of your black lace bra—you tilt your head and you catch Theo's gaze sliding over you, flicking back and forth between Pansy's legs and the way Blaise's hands have begun their slow exploration along your sides. You grin as you meet Enzo's eyes next, his lip pulled between his teeth, fingers tracing the rim of his cup—

"You could take notes, Zabini," you murmur, the words catching in your throat as his lips graze your shoulder—so close, too close.

"Me? Take notes?" He chuckles, pressing a kiss to the spot just below your ear. "I've already got it down to a science, baby.”

"Yeah?" You hum, lost in the feel of his mouth on your skin, the way his fingers are edging dangerously close to your breasts. You can feel Mattheo's gaze, burning into you from across the table, but you don't dare look, you'd crack if you did. "You sure about that?"

"Quiz me if you'd like." As if to prove his point, he pushes past the fabric of your bra, long fingers finding a nipple, and your hips twitch of their own accord, a gasp leaving your lips.  "I'll pass any test you give me."

"Cocky." There's a slight edge to your voice as you roll your hips, meeting his heat with your own—just to distract him, of course. "You're gonna' make the others jealous."

"They'll have their fun," his finger toys with the clasp of your bra, now. You feel him undo it. "I want you first."

"Oh," you gasp at the sensation of cool air against bare skin as he yanks it off your arms, exposing your tits to everyone at the table. "Cocky and greedy."

"You'd expect nothing less, baby." He practically growls.

You choke on a moan. "Blaise-"

"That's my name," he's groping, his fingers pinching your nipples just hard enough to make you squeak. "I know you're real familiar with it."

Pansy's moans, soft and breathy, fill the space as Draco works her out of her skirt, mouth moving between her thighs. You clench—seeing them—her fingers in his hair, her gasps growing louder and more frantic—your pulse quickens—

"Jealous?" Blaise's taunts, having caught you staring.

You shake your head, but—Merlin, how could you not be? You'd give just about anything to relieve the heat between your thighs. To feel the heat of all the eyes watching you right now against your skin. Mattheo, Theo, Enzo—

"Not jealous." Even you can hear how breathless you sound. "Just impatient."

"Patience is a virtue," Blaise says, all mock-virtuousness, squeezing your tits again, as if to punish you for being impatient. "One I'm happy to reward—"

Mattheo is the first to snap, shoving the half-empty bottle of alcohol aside and standing up, chair scraping across the floor. Theo considers doing the same, you can tell, eyes still glued to your half-naked body as he drains his cup in one gulp. Your eyes flick to Enzo, who's merely staring, his lip still being bitten to death between his teeth.

Merlin help you.

Mattheo strolls around the table—eyes roaming as he moves, stopping just behind where you sit on Blaise's lap, breath warm on the back of your neck as he murmurs in your ear—

"I've been patient." You think it's to Blaise. "Where's my reward."

Blaise snorts, and then Theo stands up.

"We've been patient." He's looking at Blaise, lips just starting to grin. "Real, real patient."

Enzo laughs as he rises, too—all three of them forming a loose semi-circle around you and Blaise. You can almost taste the testosterone—hot and eager and hungry—as their eyes rake over you.

Blaise tugs you closer, his hands sliding down to your hips. "I'm feeling outnumbered."

"You're outnumbered," Theo agrees, smirk growing as his fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you off Blaise's lap and to your feet. "You're also outvoted. You think we're going to just sit around and watch?"

"Not a chance in hell," Mattheo growls as he moves behind you, calloused hand running up your thigh.

Blaise grunts from where he's still seated, watching you with molten eyes, "you lot are animals, you know that?"

You almost laugh at that, considering he had your bra off in minutes.

"We're just—eager." Theo whispers, leaning in just enough to breathe against your neck, kissing a path up your jaw while Mattheo's hands work at undoing your skirt. You're so turned on you're not sure how you're not dripping down your thighs. "I wanted to be inside you three fucking hours ago."

You whimper at his words, the thick air of the room suddenly too much as Mattheo's hands push your skirt down your legs.

"Three hours is generous." Enzo's moving now, but he isn't looking at you—his eyes are locked on Pansy as Draco slams into her—the two of them locked in a trance. "My head's been filled with filth since this afternoon."

"Filth?" Blaise cocks an eyebrow. "Is that what you're calling it now?"

"Filth," Mattheo husks, and his hand comes up to wrap around your throat—lips pressed to your ear. "All I've been able to think about for the past week."

Your hips twitch at the pressure against your throat—and you moan louder than Pansy. "Gods—if one of you doesn't fuck me in the next minute—"

"Told you," Blaise chuckles, watching Mattheo's hand around your throat like a hawk. "Animal."

"Then what?" Mattheo ignores him—fingers pressing against your pulse just a little harder as he pulls you flush against him, teeth finding your ear, and you feel Theo's fingers trail down your front, teasing your slit. "What're you gonna do?"

"Fuck," you mutter, breathless, hips jerking toward the touch. "I'll die—"

"Oh, that's not good." Enzo's looking now, circling around to stand on your free side, his gaze traveling from your face, down your body, to where Theo's fingers are centimetres from pushing into your soaked cunt. "Is it our responsibility to prevent that?"

"Probably. It's only the right thing to do." Mattheo's cooes against your neck. "Can't have you dying on us, now can we?"

"Mm. Not the only," Theo murmurs, pressing his lips to yours as he pushes a finger inside you. "I can think of a dozen things to do right now."

"A dozen?" Blaise scoffs. You're starting to hate the sound of his teasing fucking tone. "Only a dozen?"

You can't even reply—any words you possess are swallowed by another moan as a second, then a third, of Theo's fingers push deep into you. Even his fingers are long, you think. You forgot just how big—

"Merlin, Theo—fuck—"

"That's the idea," he grins against your lips—you moan again when his fingers curl deep.

"You like that?" Mattheos hands are all over you—your tits, your ass, the press of his chest against your bare back—and you think that you need to see his face, need to see his eyes. "You need more?"

"Yes." You're not sure if you're speaking to Mattheo, or Theo, or Enzo or Blaise, or all of them. "Yes, please—please—"

"Oh good," Blaise muses. "She's polite."

"Of course she is," Theo groans as your cunt clenches around his digits—your slick sounds filling the space between you, mingling with the sound of skin smacking from a few feet away. "So good for us."

"Mm," Mattheo adds, teeth scraping over your shoulder, squeezing your ass to make you gasp. "Very."

"A real angel," Enzo purrs, still circling like a fucking shark, eyes flitting over to Pansy and Draco again as her moans grow louder, more insistent. "Especially when she's begging."

It's all too much—Theo's fingers pumping deep, his thumb swirling your clit, the sounds of Draco and Pansy and the feel of hands and lips and intoxicated eyes everywhere—

Your head falls back against Mattheo’s shoulder. "Oh, please—fuck—please—"

"What're you begging for, Bellissima?" Theo murmurs, drawing your eyes back to his. "Wanna use your words?"

You gasp as his fingers move faster, deeper, as if he's trying to pull the words out of your throat. "Need—"

Blaise snickers. "Yes?"

"Need to cum—" you cry out, hysterical as Mattheo pinches your nipples, groans against your neck. "Need to be—fucked—"

"And I'm the greedy one." That's Blaise again, insufferable as ever.

"We like greedy," Theo grins against your mouth, fingers crooking, and your knees buckle. "Right, boys?"

"We do," Mattheo growls.

"We like it a lot," Enzo agrees, his eyes finally meeting yours. "We love it."

"Then what're you waiting for," you gasp, unable to take much more of the heat building, twisting, every point of contact sending a new wave of need through your body. "Give it to me—"

"Give you what?" It's Blaise again—God, he's driving you fucking insane tonight. "You gotta be more specific, babygirl."

"Give—ohh—" your orgasm is right there. Right. Fucking. There. "Give me your fucking dick, Zabini—fuck—you called first—"

"Oh I did, didn't I?" Blaise still hasn't moved from his seat, but you can see the way his trousers are straining. "Guess it's my lucky day."

Theo lets loose a groan, and you can feel his hips jerking in rhythm with his fingers. "Thank Merlin for small favours."

"Lucky for all of us, really." The corner of Blaise's mouth twitches, almost with the suggestion of a smile. "Don't you think, Enzo?"

Before you can even comprehend Enzo's response, Theo curls his fingers just right, thumb rubbing your clit just right, Mattheo groping your chest and kissing your neck just fucking right—and then you're there—climax charging you, release spilling all over Theo's fingers—

"Oh, fuck—yesyesyes—"

You cry out and shudder forward, only being held up by Theo and Mattheos hands, and you're barely back on earth before you feel Blaise's fingers under your thighs—urging you back and laying you out across the table as if you're a fucking feast for him—

"Patience," Blaise grins down at you, hands finding your thighs, squeezing hard enough to drag you back to reality and realize he's got his trousers undone. "Is really such a virtue."

"Right," you mumble, still breathless as you look up at him. "Too bad I'm fresh out."

Blaise chuckles at that. "I can tell."

Fuck this—

"Blaise—if you don't fuck me right now—" you push up from the table, urging him back into the chair he was sitting in. "I will let everyone else fuck me first and make goddamn sure you watch."

There's a flicker of surprise in Blaise's eyes as he slumps back in the chair—Mattheo snorts behind you and for a second you wonder if you may have just gone too far—

"Not a chance," he smiles, his words coming out in a growl that's all heat and lust and something just a little dangerous. "We'll have none of that."

And then, he's on his feet again. But this time, when he touches you, it’s firm and fast and not at all gentle. He directs you around the table before bending you over it, and you hear someone—Theo, you think?—groan like they're in pain, the sound swallowed by a desperate moan that you know for certain is Pansy's.

Your eyes flutter when you hear it—you just don't know where to look—

"No, look up. Up." Blaise's hand is in your hair, forcing you to look up from the table, and you realize where the sound came from. "I want you to watch."

Your head's spinning in a way you're sure is not entirely from the alcohol, and it only intensifies when your eyes focus on the scene just across the room—Draco and Pansy sprawled on the couch, now, Pansy riding him while stroking Enzo's insistent dick, his glossed eyes glued to yours, watching, just watching—

Blaise's hand is still in your hair. "That's it. Watch."

Enzo smiles at you, cheeky and fucking taunting before Pansy tightens her grip while jerking him off and his head tips back—

"Gonna' be good for me," Blaise murmurs against your back—his tip pressing against your dripping entrance. "Gonna' take it all for me?"

"Yes," you gasp, catching a glimpse of Mattheo and Theo just off to the side of you, sharing a smoke. "Fuck yes—"

"That's it, baby. Just relax," he cooes, and then he's pushing into you. "Relax and enjoy it—"

There's a sting as he stretches you, and keeps stretching you until he's bottoming out far fucking deeper than you'd remembered—there's a moan from you that gets tangled between your teeth, a gasp from infront you, a moan from someone else, and—gods, if Blaise doesn't start moving—

"Blaise—oh, fuck—"

Blaise gives a low moan as your walls flutter around him, a swear under his breath that's punctuated with a hard squeeze of your hip. "Good—god—Merlin—"

He pulls out just enough to make you cry out, shameless—and it melds with Pansy's from across the room.

"Shh," Mattheo steps infront of you, blocking your view of Pansy and Draco and Enzo. "Let Blaise feel you—"

—and suddenly, Mattheo's hand is on your jaw, forcing your head back, coaxing your eyes to his. His other hand disappears, down past his belt, and you moan again—wet walls squeezing Blaise as he slowly starts to rock into you.

"I wanna' fuck your throat," Mattheo murmurs, so close you can feel his breath on your lips. "Badly."

"So needy," your words are a breathless moan, but Mattheo doesn't seem to mind—he just grins as he unbuttons his trousers. "Can't even watch for five minutes without—"

"I know, I can't," he interrupts, and his hand's back at your jaw, gripping hard. "You've got me too fucking hard."

You're about to reply with another smartass comment, but Theo saddles up next to his fellow Slytherin and before you can blink his hand is on the back of your head, tangling in your hair, angling your lips toward Mattheo's now-exposed cock—

"Don't worry about the smart mouth," Theo leans down close to you, every intention of cutting off your reply. "We have other uses for it."

You'd probably roll your eyes at the phrase if it wasn't for Mattheo's dick pushing past your teeth and hitting the back of your throat so quick you gag— eyes squeezed shut as Blaise bottoms out, again and again.

"That's one of them." he adds with a smirk, watching you choke on his best friends dick.

You can't even think. Every thought that enters your head is immediately replaced with another moan, another sensation, another need, another—

"Draco! Fuck!" You hear Pansy cry out from the couch.

"Keep going, Pans," Enzo grunts, his voice sounding choked. "Just like that."

"She taking you good, Blaise?" The question comes out in a moan of his own—you think it's Draco—and you wonder idly who's doing what over there now. "Tight as I remember?"

“Tight and wet and—fuck—" Blaise's voice has taken on a new level of strangled, desperate, need that's almost too raw to hear it, and— "she's—good. She's good."

"That's it," Draco grunts again, like he's pleased to hear it. "She's an—oh, yes, Pansy, fuck—"

The noise from the couch is too much—you're not able to think past the fullness—the desperate, overwhelming heat that's consumed you, and that's when you feel a pair of lips at your ear—

"Does it feel good?" Theo's words are barely louder than a whisper, your gagging sounds almost drowning them out. He grabs your hand, slowly bringing it to his crotch. "Having us like this?"

Your fingers are clumsy, shaky as they wrap around him and try to push his trousers down—it's hard to see past the water in your eyes but once you do you're rewarded with a gasp and a low swear under his breath that sounds so damn good you want to hear it a million times more.

"Mmmfff." You moan around Mattheo as Blaise's fingers find your clit, coaxing you towards a high you're not sure you can handle—

"That's it," Theo whispers, moving your hand just the way he likes it. His fingers are tangled with yours while his free hand finds your hair again, shoving you closer to Mattheo. "Fuck. That's it."

Everything is spinning and whirling in the best way, the best possible way, and you know you're there, so close, but it's so hard to think, so hard to do anything—when—

"You gonna' cum for us, baby?" Another pair of lips at your ear, not Theo's voice, but Blaise's—ragged with his deep thrusts. "Gonna' cum for us good and hard?"

Your response, which most likely would have been something along the lines of: "yes" or "please" or "gods yes fucking please," is completely smothered by Mattheo—his hand at the back of your head alongside Theo's, fingers tangled in your hair, cockhead slamming the back of your throat over and over and over—

"Then do it," Blaise knows your answer anyways. His fingers rub quicker, his hips piston faster. "Now."

And it's in this moment where you lose yourself completely—the world narrows down to your body, every sensation flooding through you, and the fucking sounds—Pansy's moans, Theo's groans, Blaise's pants, Mattheo's swearing, Draco's whimpers and Enzo's fucking grunting—where you can't do a goddamn thing to stop it, not that you even wanted to. You do what Blaise told you, cumming so hard you see stars behind your eyes, and for one blissful, everlasting second—you feel nothing but pure unadulterated pleasure, until it all comes rushing back with force.

You think you hear Theo say "good girl" as your body tenses—shaking, trembling, clenching around Blaise so hard his pace falters and his hips slow and his thrusts turn erratic—and then you feel it—the result of his pent up passion as he slows to to an absolute standstill—spilling his cum deep into your cunt while he shudders against you, gasping out a curse that might have been your name.

"Oh, fuck," he groans, slowly—carefully—and you feel him pull out of you just as Mattheo moans, hands tightening in your hair, spilling his own release down your throat. "Oh, sweet Merlin."

It takes a moment for reality to filter back in, and you try to catch your breath in a way that's probably not very dignified. You're not quite sure what to do with yourself—and quite frankly, you're not given the chance to figure it out as Mattheo pulls out too and Theo slips up behind you—

"Come here, Bella," he murmurs, his lips at your ear again—he sounds like he's trying to catch his breath, too. Through the fog you remember that at one point you were jerking him off—and you feel the confirmation of his need still hard against your ass as he pulls you up against him. "There we go. Easy now."

You try to speak—you're not sure what you would even say—but your voice is as shaky as the rest of you, and all that comes out is a soft moan.

"She's—" Blaise's still trying to steady his breath as he slumps into his prior chair, trousers still half undone. "—she's on mars."

"I've a feeling we all are," Theo mutters, holding you against him. His fingers skim down your stomach, almost like he's mapping out the aftershocks. "Some more than others."

You can almost feel the way his eyes flick across the room with that—noting the way Draco's splayed out on the couch next to Pansy who's now riding Enzo and jerking a still half-hard Mattheo—

"Oh, relax," Draco scoffs, eyes shut and head tipped toward the ceiling. "I'll rejoin the land of the living in a moment."

"Sure, Draco," Mattheo huffs, and you can practically hear the roll of his eyes from here. "We'll be here when you do."

"Mm—fuck, Pansy—"

Enzo's moan cuts through their bantering and it's at that moment where Theo finally decides he's waited long enough—he grabs your wrist and pulls you away from the table, directing you to the couch where he slumps down and drags you into his lap, your thighs on either side of his—throbbing, leaking cock pressing against your cum soaked cunt.

You moan, and Pansy moans beside you.

"I think," Theo murmurs into your neck, his words as thick and as needy as his hardness, "I could get used to this."

"S'that right?" You try to keep your words cool, to be as unaffected as you'd like, but—there's no hiding the way your breath hitches, the way you move your hips just the slightest in his lap. "I can't say the same about your size."

"Take me at your own pace." He husks, a smirk you're sure is attached to the words. "I'm halfway there already from that handjob."

You'd laugh at that if you weren't still so breathless and shaky from before, so instead the laugh comes out as a needy moan as you slide forward, shifting in his lap until you feel his tip brush up against your already sensitive clit—

"Gods," you breathe out the word, bracing your hands on his shoulders. "Such a gentleman."

"Always," he replies, completely sincere just before his hands grab your hips and in one quick motion—he's guiding you down onto him. "Always for you."

You'd reply—you'd probably even say something that might be sweet, if you could, if the rest of the world didn't fade into a sort of pleasurable blankness as you sink down—down until the moan that leaves you is so unbridled that it should have been embarrassing if the whole fucking lot of you weren't so far passed embarrassment—because just the head of him is so thick and you're suddenly thankful Blaise stretched you out so deliciously because otherwise you think it'd be too much, too quick and—fuck.

You're still sensitive, and you know he can tell—

"Oh, she's tight." Theo's voice is low in your ear, his lips tracing your jawline. "Too much?"

"Never," you gasp out, offering some weak shake of your head. "Never too much."

He grins against your pulse, teeth scraping across your skin—

"Good."

He punctuates the word by sinking you down a bit more, the stretch of his shaft drawing out a moan from deep in your chest—

"And when it is?"

—he pauses, tightening his grip on your hips to pull you up slightly before sliding you back down—

"Tell me."

You're only half able to form the thought at this point—the other half of you is so preoccupied with the feeling of his hands holding you, his lips against your skin, his voice in your ear—you nod, anyway, and there's another moan from somewhere in the room—Enzo again, and it's more of a whimper than anything else.

"That’s it, Pansy, so good—"

"Feels good, Enzy?" Her response comes through gasps. "You like it like that?"

Blaise answers for them both—you catch a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye, slumped back in his chair with a new drink in hand. "Keep that up and he'll never leave that couch again."

"He's not the only one." Theo's words vibrate through you, and while you're not sure if it's the meaning behind them or the way they're sent deep into your neck with a hint of teeth, either way you have to swallow a moan before you can respond.

"Is that so?" You reply, doing your goddamn best to keep your voice steady as Theo's hips roll up into you again.

"It is so," he murmurs. "You think you can handle staying on this couch all summer?"

Summer. Hardly a week away. You think of the days and nights you're going to spend in this manor, in this room—in this room on this fucking couch—

His hands slip to your ass, guiding you up and down. "You think you could last another hour?"

"Mmm," you manage to get the sound out before he rolls up again, the perfect angle to hit that sensitive spot somewhere deep inside you and that's all you have to say before all other higher level thinking goes out the window. "Oh, Theo, you’re fucking deep—"

"I know," he replies, his breath harsh against your throat, his words lost between the moans you can't seem to keep from slipping out. "I know, bella, I know—"

Cocky bastard.

You lean down, pulling his head against your chest with hands in his hair and he follows. You'd think he'd try to pull back, just to say something witty with a smirk on his face—but instead he groans, his tongue flicking over your nipple and that's when you hear Mattheo grunt from somewhere beside you—

"Fuck me." His voice comes out as a gasp that he's struggling to keep from sounding strangled. Pansy's still lazily stroking him, multitasking while riding Enzo. "I'm so fucking hard again."

If you could manage a proper response, you might have said that was the idea—you'd probably have said something very clever about how you wouldn't mind letting him down your throat again.

You can still think, but the thought is a struggle, so all you manage is a breathless—

"Matt—“

"Mmm?" Hardly a hum—and for some reason it's so much more attractive than it probably should be. "Yes, princess?"

The way you shiver at the pet name is something you're going to have to examine at some point—not now, though, because if you have to put any more thought into any single thing you're going to explode.

"You—you—"

Theo interrupts before you can finish the sentence. "Fuck her, Riddle."

If Mattheo's surprise at Theo's apparent order is evident, it's masked by the moan he lets out as Pansy does something that must have felt especially good.

"I, fuck—I already fucked her throat, Nott. If you'd finish gatekeeping her—"

"She's got another hole, Riddle," Theo replies, with that self-assured tone that's too goddamn cocky to be legal and you wonder absently if he knows what it does to you as he gives a sharp, deliberate roll of his hips. "She can handle it, can't you, bella?"

You try to moan out an answer—you're sure there's a sound there—anything to let him know that yes, you not only can but that you're not sure there's anything you'd rather do—yet the words die before you can get them out as Mattheo is already moving—rough hands finding your ass, spreading your cheeks as he leans down to press a kiss to the dimples on your lower back. The sensation catches you off guard but you don't have time to think about that before you feel something wet—his saliva, you think—slick between your cheeks and then his fingers are there, rubbing and massaging against your tight hole—

And then, he's pressing a finger into you. "Oh—"

You're not even sure if your gasp is a reaction to Theo's movement or Mattheo's—all you know is that for a moment it all just combines into a whirlwind that seems to just drown all the oxygen out of your lungs completely—

"I know," Theo's breath is as laboured and rough as yours—the rumble of his words vibrating against your chest, your collarbone. "God, I know—"

"Jesus," another moan, strangled and needy, and it's not from you or Theo or even Enzo—it's from Mattheo. "Oh, this ass is tight—"

That's not something you're going to be able to get over—hearing that coming from him. "Oh fuck, Matt—"

"Mmm?" There's a smile in his voice—and you'd see it on his face if you were facing him, if all of his focus weren't so decidedly somewhere else. "You want me to fuck this perfect ass, don’t you?"

With that he pushes another finger into you while Theo wraps his arms around your waist to hold you steady to his chest. His hips cant up into you, and you swear you're on fire—Mattheo chuckles.

The sensation is so much you’re crying out again, his teasing turning infuriating. "You're a goddamn—ah—bastard—"

"Maybe so," he replies, with a smack to one of your asscheeks. "But a bastard that's going to—"

He stretches you out, pumping and scissoring slow, just as deliberate as everything else he does—and the moan you let out is enough to drown out whatever witty, dirty words you're sure he was going to follow that with—

"Fuck—fuck," the word is all you can manage as you brace your hands against Theo's shoulders, nails digging into his skin— "oh, fuck—"

Mattheo groans against your back and you swear it's intentional because he has to know what all of this is doing to you—what it's doing to Theo by association.

"Fuck, she likes that—" Theo's gasp hits you like a punch in the gut. "I should have—"

It's like there's a whole sentence, some snarky, perfectly articulate statement he had in mind, but whatever words it was comprised of are lost in the way he shivers—in the way his hips jerk more erratically due to how tight you're squeezing him—due to the way your walls spasm as Mattheos fingers keep pumping, stretching—

"Should have what?" It's a miracle you manage the words, and you're feeling particularly proud about the way it's more of a challenge than a question, even if it's half mumbled.

Whatever it is, he can't say it, and whatever retort you had for that is interrupted by the sound of a grunt—Enzo. His face is screwed up in pleasure, his breath is coming in ragged, uneven pants and there's a look in his eyes that looks distinctly broken.

Mattheo groans and pulls his fingers free. You feel the tip of his dick replacing them. "Can’t fucking wait any longer."

Enzo's eyes meet yours, then, and they're absolutely wrecked. "I'm going to—"

Pansy grins and moans out her reply. "Yeah, you are."

There's little else you can say—not that you'd have the words even if you weren't as lost as the rest of them. You just have a flash of thought about how you've never seen Enzo look like that before, open and vulnerable and completely at the mercy of whatever bliss he's riding right now, but then there's another feral moan escaping your lips—

"Oh, Gods, Mattheo!—"

Theo groans into your neck as Mattheo presses in and it takes merely two seconds before your eyes roll back—the way he sinks into your ass is a level of fullness you weren't sure you could reach, and even that's a thought that's too complex for you to process as your head drops, forehead pressed to Theo's shoulder.

There's a hiss from his lips, another muttered curse that you half catch as he bites at your collarbone, his hands moving back to squeeze your hips—

"Fuck, yes," Mattheo's voice sounds more strained than you've ever heard it. "Jesus Christ, that feels good—"

"Don't think the saviour would like you taking his name in vain," Blaise says, from somewhere in the room. "Not in this scenario at least."

No, he wouldn't, you think, but there's no way you've got the wherewithal to speak now—any focus you had is lost now that you're impaled on not one, but two cocks and it's like your entire nervous system's been turned over to the sensation of being so fucking full, so surrounded—of not being able to do anything except try to remember how to breathe.

It's not working very well.

"Mm," Theo's moans, fucking up into you nice and slow. "I think he'd understand."

"I think that's a rather blasphemous stance to take," Blaise replies. "Then again, given the scenario, perhaps that's not the most shocking revelation I've had of you all today."

"Blaise," Enzo groans, his tone somewhere between pleading and demanding. "Are you really going to try and have a conversation right now?"

"Just making an observation," Blaise says casually, and you swear that part of your brain that still functions can see the smirk plastered on his face in your mind. "Merely commenting about the depravity on display."

"Your commentary is duly noted," Mattheo breathes, his words punctuated by a low moan as he smacks your ass. "And dismissed."

There's a grumble of agreement through the room at that, including one from you, but all your words come out as a gasp—

Theo loves you like this. You can tell he's fucking savouring it. "That's it, bella. You don't need to do more than that."

Part of you wants to protest the statement, wants to argue that you have it in you to contribute more, but no matter how hard you try—and you do try—all that comes out around the moans is an inarticulate mess.

"Yeah, that's it," Mattheo groans, and you'd be embarrassed about how utterly ruined by all of this you are if you could focus on anything other than the two dicks pumping you in rhythm. "Just let me and Nott take care of your—mmf—tight fuckin' holes."

There's a whine that worms its way out of your chest and through your lips at that, and you don't know what it's begging for—just that it's begging, and all your mind cares about right now is that Theo and Mattheo understand that.

Theo's response is a moan of his own and a hand finding the back of your neck, his fingers wrapping around your hair. "So fucking wet—tight—"

"And taking us so goddamn well," Mattheo adds as one of his hands grab your ass again, spreading you open. "Fucking hell—I'm so close—"

"So are we," Theo responds for you, and the words are harsh and desperate and make your whole body shudder. "So—ah—so are we—"

The realization that he can feel how close you are makes you clench—walls fluttering around the both of them as they fuck you tempered—it’s only a few more seconds before you're seeing stars so bright you hardly register the sounds of Enzo and Pansy reaching their climaxes next to you—the feeling of Pansy crashing her lips to yours as she cums and moans into your mouth propelling you further over the edge, into your own ecstasy—

And if there were a way to describe it, you're sure you'd think of it later, but right now it's all just fire and lightning—pleasure wracking your body until you're certain you're not going to come down for hours. You can't really hear anything—just the rushing of your own blood pulsing in your ears—but as it starts to subside, your vision returns and the sound follows—your lips still pressed to Pansy's as Theo moans underneath you, spilling his release into your cunt while Mattheo is still thrusting slow—

"Oh my god," you gasp as you break the kiss, all of you breathing so hard you're sure it's going to take a while for the oxygen levels in the room to return to normal. "Oh my god, oh my god—"

"Mmm," is about all Theo seems to be capable of currently.

It’s a rare thing for him to be rendered speechless—and you'd grin at the knowledge if it weren't for Mattheo still thrusting deep in your ass—leaving Theo trapped inside your cunt, his length still twitching and throbbing within your walls.

"Still with us, princess?" Mattheo's chuckle is somewhat strangled, and the hand he's not gripping your ass with finds your hair again, tugging your head back to expose your neck. "You aren't done already, are you?"

If he expects—or even wants—an actual answer to that question, he's going to be very disappointed because all you can manage is a strangled half-moan that's a decent representation to how you're feeling right now—

"I think she's lost her words," Mattheo murmurs—and then it's like he realizes something. "Maybe we should test that."

"Wha—"

It's not a proper word, but you don't even have the chance to fully get it out before his hand in your hair is pulling your head back even further and you realize that at some point Pansy had gotten off of Enzo and he's now kneeling on the couch in front of you with his cum covered cock aimed directly at your lips—

"Clean me off."

It's another demand you'd probably be inclined to respond to with a snarky reply if you were at all confident in your ability to do anything other than open your mouth and let him press the tip to your tongue—

"Good girl," Enzo says, and the praise is delivered with that voice that sounds like it came from some dark place inside him, the one that's only ever really appeared in the privacy of these walls and with this group of people. "Taste your bestfriend on me, hm? You like that?"

It's a question you'd probably deny a few months ago, but that's not the case anymore—and you know that the answer would be obvious regardless, given how you've just proven you're more than happy to share them with her. So instead you give an answer that's a better representation of how you feel without having to admit it, and it only comes out as a hum of agreement as you taste her.

"I know you do," Enzo replies, and he's got that same smirk he usually has when he's got the upper hand, the one that usually makes you feel at least mildly put out—now it just makes you shiver. "Little slut."

Theo, who's still trapped underneath you and still half hard inside you, moans at that.

"Mmmm-" yes, you want to say, but you can't and the noise you manage instead, around the taste of your bestfriend on your tongue, comes out more like a whimper that has absolutely no business doing as much to you as it does.

Mattheo growls with a deep thrust into your ass, and the whimper turns into a whine as Pansy moves closer to you.

"You look pretty," she murmurs, her mouth pressed against your hair as Enzo pushes his dick deeper down your throat. "You look so fucking pretty right now."

There's something about that, the way her voice caresses the words, that makes something warm rush through you, wrapping around the bliss and squeezing until you're almost overwhelmed again.

Your eyes water, as you gag. "Mmgh—"

"Mhmm," her lips move down your cheek, next to your mouth where Enzo is still slowly fucking it, and it's like the action is deliberate—a way to show, without saying it outright, just how wrecked you are. "And you say I'm insatiable."

That's fair, because right now you're fairly certain you've never wanted something to continue forever quite as much as you do this, regardless of the fact that you know it's not practical.

"Ah, fuck—" Mattheo grunts with a messy thrust. “Oh, fuck—"

He's not the most loquacious person in the world but even he is having a hard time getting words out—and you're not much better, with the only sounds you're capable of making completely indecipherable even for you, let alone the rest of the room.

"Fuck—" with a final curse, he spills his release deep into your ass and Theo groans from under you as you clench as a result. "—yes."

The feeling of him twitching and spilling inside you makes you moan around Enzo, and he groans too—one hand tangled in your hair and the other tangled in Pansy's to keep her close—

"Mm, yes," Enzo moans now, jerking his hips toward your face. "Feels good—so good—“

—and close is an apt word because they're all close to you, all surrounding you—even Blaise and Draco's exhausted presence are felt in the background.

"I'm pretty sure she's gonna be sore for days after this," Pansy says, the words whispered. "I hope you all know—"

"I think she'll be thanking us for that," Theo replies before anyone else can. "In a day or two at least."

Pansy giggles, a sound that's soft and familiar and comforting even in this current state of being surrounded and overwhelmed, and her cheek brushes up against yours as the two of you peer up at Enzo—

"You're probably right." She whispers.

Enzo grunts, pulling his cock from your mouth and offering it to Pansy who greedily takes it in her own—

"Selfless generosity," Theo murmurs from directly under your chin having just witnessed that, and his tone suggests he's got his signature smirk in place. "How noble of us."

"Very selfless," Blaise says, from somewhere in the room again—and even as you're lost in pleasure you know that statement borders on sarcastic. "Absolutely nothing in it for any of you."

"Nothing at all," Theo replies, the same amount of sarcasm in his voice as Blaise's. "It's all self-sacrifice."

"Mm," Mattheo murmurs against your shoulder, before he pushes himself off you and finally pulls out. "Not even a shred of personal satisfaction."

You're still collapsed on top of Theo, as boneless as a human being can be, and a quiet whine escapes your lips at the loss before you can stop it.

"See," Theo murmurs, a hand coming up to run through your hair. "We've practically made a martyr of ourselves here. Selflessness at its finest."

"So humble," Blaise says, and you swear you hear the eyeroll that's almost certainly included. "I think this calls for medals and a parade through the streets. A holiday, maybe. Selfless Slytherin Day."

Enzo huffs—you can tell he's considering telling Blaise to shut up before he ruins his orgasm but as Pansy drags her tongue along the underside of his shaft, he seems to forget about it—

"Absolutely," Mattheo says—and if you had the strength to lift your head and look at him there'd likely be a smug smirk on his face. "I'd volunteer to be parade marshall, personally."

Enzo pulls out of Pansy's mouth with a gasp—and it's all but two seconds before he sprays sticky jets of cum all over your face and hers, his head tipping back as he does—

"I'm sure you would," Blaise says dryly, his voice coming from closer now than before. "I'm sure you would also volunteer to accept the medal, and then offer a speech about how humble you are."

"Mhm,” Mattheo sounds unbothered. You know he is. "Obviously. Someone's got to make sure the truth is told."

Pansy giggles against your face, then, before her tongue drags across your cheek, collecting some of Enzo's release. "Well, it's no good if you all are going to keep doing a poor job at the selflessness part.”

"I think we're well past the point of pretending we're doing this selflessly," Theo mutters dryly as he presses a kiss to your shoulder. "If we were capable of that level of pretending, we'd all be in Ravenclaw."

Your hands find Pansy's hair, holding her close to you as you lick Enzo's cum off her chin and jaw.

"You're welcome to switch houses if you'd like," Blaise responds dryly. "Some of us were sorted to our houses for reasons other than self-satisfaction—"

"Oh, shove it, Zabini," Enzo says as his breath comes back. "You're acting like a bloody dad."

Blaise opens his mouth, presumably to offer some kind of sharp retort, but before they have a chance, Pansy cuts in. "If you're all quite finished with the pissing contest—“

"We've been done for minutes," Theo replies quickly, hand now stroking through your hair. "Now we're just bickering for the sake of it, as usual."

"Which means we've got at least another half an hour to go," Blaise mutters—before apparently giving up all attempt at sounding cool and collected and flopping down on the nearest open section of sofa.

"At least," Mattheo agrees. "Maybe an hour, if we're lucky."

Next to you, Enzo grunts out a laugh as he starts trying to fix himself back to modesty. "Lucky is one word for it—"

"I think lucky is an excellent term for the current state of things," Theo replies, his voice all smooth and silky and perfectly at fucking ease. "In fact, I'd be hard pressed to think of anything more lucky than getting to experience this."

Everyone is in agreement, at that.

[visdollie]

☆ having fun without me?

sum: vi isnt happy when she sees you posing on your insta story with another girl at a party

cw: wlw, angry sex, overstim, fem!reader, dom!vi, clit rubbing (r!receiving), dirty talk, slapping, name calling (slut), not proofread

fucked.

fucked is what you were when you realized the time. after countless hours of heartfelt conversations and a plethora of shots, you had gotten so distracted at the party that you forgot to get home to vi on time.

10:00 pm was the time vi told you before your friend picked you up. it was fucking 2:31 am. you already knew how impatient she could be.

"aw, leaving so soon?" a girl you met at said party whined at you with a tilt to her head as she watched you rush to gather your belongings and text your friend a quick "meet me outside" in an obvious hurry. the same girl you decided to snap a cute 'harmless' selfie with and post to your story.

you dashed out the door, leaving her a quick "so sorry we'll meet again soon!" before rushing to the parking lot, searching for your friends car with a look of fear on your face.

"im fucked, im so fucked!" you yapped her ears off, just watching her roll her eyes and drive you home.

---

shivers went down your spine as you steadily unlocked and opened your shared front door, avoiding making any noise in hopes that vi was just asleep, and would just penalize you in the morning.

you were practically on your tippy toes, but the creaky door did you no justice as it slipped out your grip and slammed closed.

"fuck." you whispered.

it was terrifyingly dark in your home. not a single peep or sound besides the loud ass air conditioner. you thought you were fine for the night, but no.. not until your girlfriend snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you back roughly as a yelp slipped from your lips.

"ah! vi.. you scared me." you giggled anxiously. vi could sense that you both knew the obvious issue which placed tension between the situation as she planted kisses across your collarbone.

"missed me?" she muttered on your warm, sticky skin in a malicious tone. you nodded your head, too nervous to say anything that could possibly anger her more.

she crept closer to your ear. "was having fun without me, yeah? takin pics with random girls, lettin them grab all on your ass? bet you had a great fucking time.. slut." she bit down on your neck, not hard enough to leave a scar, but harsh enough to taste the metallic flavor of your blood. you whimpered, loud.

"m sorry.. was jus having fun, n i didnt realize the tim-"

you yelped as she grabbed your wrist and dragged you down the so familiar hallway to your bedroom, muttering a rough "shut it. you saw this coming, baby."

the grip she had on your wrists tightened, her nails digging into your soft skin that made it obvious to you she was getting angrier by the second. was she angry because you got home late? or because of your oh so touchy friend? you assumed it was both.

all thoughts were snapped out of your head as she threw you on the silky, crepe pink sheets and immediately started attacking your neck with bites and bruises.

"mmh.." you whined pathetically, letting her take your brain over and dumb it down. her hand slid down your body, putting it up your skirt to rub at your clit at a rugged pace to make you more wet, as if you already werent.

your poor body struggled in determination to move away from her touch but her grip on your hips with her free hand kept you still. she lifted up from your collarbone, admiring the mess she made. "keep still, slut. shouldve been home on time, but was too busy out fuckin girls, yeah?" her pace on your clit grew faster.

"f-ffuhck.. was.. wasnt fuckin no one, vi! was jus havin fun.. d.. dont even know the girls name.. m sorry.." you babbled on and on hoping for some relief on your poor clit as she went faster each word you spoke. she had no plans of showing mercy, no way. she was way too pissed for that.

"yeah, right. she shouldnt have been touchin you like that, baby." a loud, harsh slap met your thigh, pulling a choked out moan from the back of your throat. "p-please!"

she felt you growing wetter through your panties, deciding to pause her steady motions to rip them off. she grinned at how wet you were. your pussy was glistening, practically reflecting off the ceiling light. you stuffed your face in your pillow in embarassment.

"so fuckin wet, its like you were waiting on this. prolly were, slut." she belittled you, listening to your whines of disagreement. her fingers rubbed up and down your cunt, lubricating them so she'd be able to fuck you senseless. sloppy noises of you pussy making her drip through her own underwear.

you keened at the feeling. "p-please.. fill me up vi! hurry.." vi let out a grunt of annoyance at your impatience. a rough SLAP at your pussy. yeah, that'll shut you up.

tears welled up in your eyes as you pressed your lips closed, a long whimper leaving them. "always so fucking noisy." your girlfriend quietly muttered before shoving two of her fingers deep in your cunt. "just wanna be stuffed full with my fingers, dont you baby?"

throwing your head back at the feeling, you nodded hastily. brain going dumb as she worked her digits in and out of you, thumb going at your clit. "tell me baby, did you do anything with that girl, hmm? why were you with her?" she spoke to you softly, as if she wasnt pissed a few seconds ago.

"w..was just a friend vi, promise! she.. haah.. means nothin to mme.. pleasepleaseplease.."

she snickered at your babbling, fucking you quicker as a reward of your honesty. you knew vi wasnt really worried about you leaving her. you adored her and she adored you on an unfathomable level, she just worried about your safety. (and had a big fear of other bitches growing crushes on you.)

"gon.. gonna cum.." you whined, legs trembling from how sore they were growing. vi felt you clenching around her rough fingers, thumb rubbing at your clit to loosen you up.

"cmon, baby. cum for me. let go all over my fingers.." her words made you sob out even more. you clawed at the sheets, cumming all over them with a long, drawn out wail.

she kept fucking her fingers into you, adding a third one. you started kicking your legs in overstimulation, whining for her to let up but she was relentless.

"tell me, baby. tell me who you belong to."

you doubted you could even speak properly due to the aggressive fingerfucking, but you made an attempt, tears dripping onto the sheets at this point. pathetic.

yet you tried anyway. "y..you vi.. belong to.. you.."

she faught back a laugh, removing her fingers from your cunt and planting a kiss to your forehead. you laid back onto the bed, immediately squeezing your thighs closed.

"you did so well, cupcake. but you arent going out for a while."

you frowned, rolling your eyes at her. secretly though, you didnt mind. if it means being able to spend more time with your girlfriend, you dont mind.

@ visdollie 2024

[crowsofdarkness]

Beach day with some of the Avengers turns into a little private time with Bucky.

18+ CW's below the cut(public sex, p in v, Bucky not being able to wait for you any longer)

The sun beat down on my bare back, covered by the thin material of my swimsuit; a cute olive green one. I adjusted my position from my stomach to lay on my back, needing to tan my front side. Things have been slow with the Avengers so some of us decided to spend it at the lake. All of us had been working extremely hard the last week so a day outside relaxing in the sun, I was eager to get there.

“Did you reapply sunscreen?” 

Raising my sunglasses, I raised myself on my elbows as I lay on the blanket in the sand to look over at Steve who was holding up a bottle of sunscreen. 

“Depends, are you asking to reapply for me?” I teased with a sly smile. 

He snorted before tossing me the bottle, me catching it mid air. My casual flirty banter was what I was known for. It was all in good fun and made things comfortable for me to be in a group of guys, most of them either Gods or super soldiers; as weird as that sounded. Everyone here made me feel welcomed when I first started six months ago which I was grateful for. They were all great friends of mine and the flirting was all harmless. 

Well, all were harmless but for one. 

As I rubbed the sunscreen into my red skin thanks to the tanning, I peered through my sunglasses over towards Bucky who was resting in the water on a raft, water droplets falling off his vibranium arm. I nibbled on my bottom lip when I noticed Bucky was already watching me rub the sunscreen into the skin above my breasts. 

Things between us were different from the rest. 

It was always stolen glances, lingering touches, and the occasional finding ourselves stuck in an enclosed space together. But that’s all it ever was, much to my dismay. It was pretty evident I had feelings for Bucky but was too shy with him to take it a step further mostly because it wasn’t clear what he wanted. 

Sure he would let his eyes burn as he drank me in or would playfully smirk at me when I was walking around the Avengers tower. But he’d never come out right and say anything. 

Noticing he was still watching me, I decided to test the waters with my plan and spread the sunscreen lower in the valley of my breasts. I slowly worked it into the skin while peeling away the fabric of my swimsuit slightly to press the sunscreen into the skin there. I wasn’t showing my full breasts but due to the angle where Bucky was floating in the water, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind he got a little peek. 

His tongue darted out to wet his lips and slowly began rising out of the water to walk up the sand towards me. Swallowing thickly, I glanced at him as he blocked the sun's rays with his large form. 

“Do you need me to get your back?” His voice was strained, almost as if he was trying to hold himself back. 

Phase one of my plan? Check. 

I took a deep breath to gather my courage, pushing away my nerves, and shook the bottle at him. “Do you mind?” 

Our fingers brushed when he took the bottle from me and I felt a spark surge through me when he motioned for me to lay back on my stomach. He sat on the back of my knees, both of his locking me in place on either side of me. The water dripped from his soaked shorts onto my skin, making me shiver. The water had been freezing when we first arrived a few hours ago and I refused to dip my toes in it. 

“Sorry,” Bucky chuckled when he noticed me shivering underneath him. 

But it wasn’t only for the water but because of how he felt on top of me when he worked in the sunscreen on my back, working out the tense muscles as he went. I had to bite back a moan not only because of his fingers dragging down my back but because it truly felt euphoric as he massaged my back. Especially with his vibranium fingers.

“Is this okay?” He wondered, moving his hands lower. 

My swimsuit was a one piece but a lower exposed back and the bottom pulled up between my ass cheeks, almost like a thong. 

“Just as long as you cover all of me. I don’t need a handprint being tanned into my ass because you missed it,” I teased while looking over my shoulder at him. 

Bucky’s eyes met mine and darted his tongue out to wet his lips when I mentioned my ass. His fingers ghosted over it, a teasing gleam in his eyes now. I froze under his touch, not because he was about to touch my ass, but the fact he could possibly see the wet spot between my legs. Teasing him and then having his hand all over me had worked me up and I couldn’t help the way my body reacted. 

The rest of the group had parted from the beach and were all swimming in the water, meaning they couldn't hear us. Or see what we were doing unless they were close by. To them, it seemed like Bucky was innocently applying sunscreen to my back for me. But to us, he was dragging a finger down my spine and over the swell of my ass. 

He leaned his tall body over my back so he could breath against the crook of my neck. “Green is your color, doll.” 

My heart lurched into my throat when his pet name for me lingered into my skin. The first time he uttered it to me was earlier in the week when we arrived at the first venue for the tour and we both found ourselves alone in the kitchen of the Avengers tower and I was on top of the counter, trying to reach something in a high cabinet, to which Bucky was there to grab it from me when I was struggling slightly. 

“Careful, doll. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” 

I blinked at him. “Doll?” 

Bucky’s face twitched when he realized what he had said. “Sorry, it just slipped out. If you don’t like it or are uncomfortable, I understand.” 

“No!” I was quick to wave him off. “I-I like it.”

A wide smirk spread to his face, causing the skin next to his eyes to crinkle. “Good, because it stays. doll.”

A soft breeze brushed over my skin even with Bucky’s body heat wrapping around me as he still hovered. 

“I remember you mentioning you love the color green,” I admitted while removing my sunglasses so I could look up into those dark eyes. 

He hummed while brushing away a strand of hair from my face, applying sunscreen to me long forgotten as he laid his body next to mine. I let my eyes trace the muscles across his skin and tried so hard not to trace it with my tongue. 

“Can I be honest with you?” He asked while letting his inner battles win and traced his vibranium finger over my shoulder, tracing the patterns the freckles made. 

Even though the nerves ate away at me for what he was about to divulge, I did my best to nod. 

“The second I saw you step into the common area wearing this swimsuit I knew I wanted to fuck you in it,” Bucky leaned forward to whisper in my ear. 

A moan fell from my lips as I kept my gaze from meeting his, not wanting him to know how bad I wanted that. 

His knuckle lifted my chin, giving me no choice but to look at him. “Can I?” 

Something about him being so sweet with his question made my insides warm, even though I was freaking out. 

“Won’t this make things weird for us?” I asked. 

“I don’t see how,” Bucky’s hand was now resting low on my hip. “Something tells me you want it just as much as me.” 

Now I could help the teasing smirk as I rested up on an elbow so I could bring my lips closer to his. 

“I think you’re wrong.”

“The wet spot between your legs tells me I’m right, doll,” he faintly brushed his lips over mine before tapping my hip. “Face the water.” 

My eyes widened. “Wait, we’re doing it here?” 

“I can’t wait until we get back to the bus, Y/N. I’ve been forcing myself to not want you but I can’t do that anymore. I need to feel you,” Bucky admitted before helping me turn to face the water while he laid behind me. 

My entire body was set ablaze knowing that he felt the same way I had. Months of flirting and dancing around each other led to this moment; us fucking on the beach while the rest of our friends could possibly see if they looked close enough. I made this known to Bucky, who reached for another blanket we’d brought and laid it over our bodies to cover our lower halves. The sun was setting, bringing a slight chill along with it so it wasn’t odd. To everyone else, it seemed like we were taking a nap together.  

Bucky’s fingers palmed my ass causing him to groan in the back of my head. 

“I’m sorry if I ruin your swimsuit,” he apologized while pulling it to the side so he could have full access to my pussy. 

“You’ll just have to buy me a new one,” I said. 

A soft kiss to my head. “I’ll buy you whatever you want, doll. If you let me.” 

He pulled out his cock from his shorts and brushed the head along my folds, causing my eyes to roll back as my forehead fell to the blanket. 

“Are you on anything?” Bucky asked. 

I nodded while pressing my ass against him. “Please no teasing. I’ve been wanting this for a long time, Bucky.” 

He said nothing, simply pressing himself fully inside of me causing us both to moan. At first his pace was slow, wanting to feel all of me as I clamped around his cock. I did my best not to move much, not wanting to give way to the others what we were doing underneath the blanket. Since Bucky’s one arm was supporting my head now and the other gripping my hip, I held the bottom of my swim suit to the side so he could fuck into me. His cock was thick, filling me up completely and I desperately wanted to see how it looked. 

Another time. 

“Bucky,” I moaned. “It’s so good.” 

His breathing was warm against my ear. “You feel just like I imagined, doll. I’m not going to last long.” 

I pressed a kiss to the gold streaks of his vibranium arm. “Neither am I.” 

Both of us moved slowly together, enjoying the sensual moment together as the sun set bathed us both in a glow of orange and purples. Bucky left kisses along my neck as he pulled his cock nearly out right before filling me up again; over and over until I was able to finally let euphoria win as I gave into him. I bit the inside of my to muffle my yell when my orgasm hit, body writing against him. 

“You did so good, doll. Such a good girl for me,” Bucky’s snaps of his hips were becoming more fast paced as he chased his own release. 

Movement caught my attention and I noticed that the rest of the group were starting to leave the water, walking up to us, and Bucky grumbled under his breath. 

“When we get back to the compound, I’m not letting you leave my room. I want you all for myself.” 

I rested the back of my head against his chest. “You have me, Bucky. Now cum for me. Fill me up.” 

He made a low noise in the back of his throat as his cock swelled inside of me moments before he spilled all of him inside of me, coating my walls. Just in time because Steve stopped in front of our blanket and looked down at us. 

“Are you guys done doing whatever it is you’re doing or can we eat now?” 

Bucky flipped him off and pulled me closer to his chest by wrapping his arm around me. “Fuck off, Steve.”

He made no move to remove his cock from inside of me as we allowed ourselves to fall into a small nap while the others started prepping everything for our fire barbeque. 

[tan1shere]

Okay

Billie Eilish x female reader !

A/n: angry sex is all I can say 😩 enjoy 😇

Summary: she's mad at you, but it doesn't last long.

Warnings: smut ! Car sex, angry sex, RED ROOTS BILLIE ! Rough billie 😋

Masterlist

She was mad. Angry. But that didn't even begin to explain it. But so were you, she didn't have a right to be mad at you. You two were on the brink of an argument, only moments before one of you breaks. Hence why she dragged you out of that club. The Audi was speeding through the night when suddenly she speaks up. "You shouldn't of done that." Her voice was stern. "Billi-" "No. It was stupid." Your eyes roll. "Oh please give it a break, I needed some space." She's silent. No reply. "I'm sure you did too." You look out the window, when you see your surroundings blur as she speeds up.

You turn your head to face her. Her left hand was gripped tightly around the steering wheel eyes glued infront of her. Fury radiating off her body. Your nerves pick up, you had to admit it was thrilling. She always made you feel that way and would never ever put you in danger so you trusted her. Her nuckles flex, veins popping in the night lighting. "Billie." You then say trying to get her to either slow down just a tiny bit or talk to you. There was no telling what could happen as her foot presses harder on the accelerator. "Billie." You repeat more forceful. Feeling your heart rate pick up.

Nothing. As the car speeds up her anger only increases. Her eyes darken, her brows furrowing. This is the most mad you've seen her in forever and it frightened you whenever you saw it. But at the same time, it made her look even more attractive, sending you hot. Your eyes dart to her hand, everything more prominent because of her grip. "Bills.." You whisper, and that's when she looks at you. The exact same look on her face. Still nothing, but a slight smirk.

Try to stop me, I'm like no way.

She could see slight fear, but with the past incidents, she knew that you knew she would never do anything but protect you. Just some harmless fun. It was turning her on. Even more so when you squeeze your thighs together, her eyes move to look. Noting that the dress you wore was ridden up very high. "Scared?" You shake your head. But you do get a bit scared as she keeps looking at you, pushing down all the way going far over the speed limit. But what was going to happen? It was 3 in the morning. There's nobody out.

Speeding like this shit was stolen.

Your eyes knit together with worry. "Billie-" Your eyes look to the road making sure she's still going straight. She surprisingly was. Your head looks back at her, her eyes on you intently, tilting her head a bit. "Tell your eyes that." Your breath catches in your throat. "Im still mad at you." She chuckles dryly. "Ditto." Her voice was dripping with venom. Your body shifts in the seat, causing her to look down at your thighs, biting her lip. "Fuck it." She mumbles. "Wha-?" But you were cut completely short as she slams on the breaks, putting her arm infront of you to make sure you don't fly forward.

Confusion strikes you as you're in the middle of nowhere. "Backseat. Now." Even though you were still slightly mad at her, your brain was telling you to do it. Wanting to see where this would lead. "Gunna show you just how angry I am." She says getting out the drivers seat and slamming the door. You flinch just slightly not expecting it. But my god was she sexy this way. You climb into the back, not caring if your dress moved more. She was just going to move it anyways. She opens the door, getting in and grabbing you. "Come on baby get on top, there you go."

She grabs your face instantly kissing you with absolute fire. Your mind shuts down. Forgetting even why you two were arguing. She was still very well aware, grabbing one of your hands and placing it on her belt. "I'm still pissed, you undo it. Kay?" "Okay." Your fingers fiddle with it, unhooking it and grabbing her zipper. "Good, good." She says observing. "Keep going." Your breath stills, moving her jeans to get the fake dick out. On full display. "Don't see why I have to do all the work. Sit." She stares into your soul, your heart rate still picking up. You felt like her prey in the little game. "B-" You begun but immediately shut up as she raises a brow. Tongue visibly poking into her cheek.

I got dirty in my own veins.

Fuck. You were so incredibly screwed. "Sit." She repeats. Your hands quickly try to take your underwear off, finding everything more difficult especially with her God damn eyes glued on you. You go to grab it again breathing out shakily. Lining it up perfectly and slowly sinking down. And with how wet she had you it wasn't hard. "Good fucking girl." Your mouth hangs open at the feeling of the slight stretch, causing both of you to bite your lips. Your hips move on her with need, everything about it was hasty. Gripping her shoulders for support. The feeling of how deep it was going straight to your stomach. Literally. Her hands make contact with the straps.

Pulling them down and letting your breasts spill out. "You're going to apologize." And that's when you give her a look. "The fuck I'm no-" Her hand comes flying to your jaw causing your mouth to close shut. "You want this right? You want me in you correct?" You whimper out as her fingers most definitely leave marks but you gave zero shits. You wanted that, you wanted her to mark you all over. "Speak." She orders. You gulp back a moan as she ruts up into you, making sure you're focusing. "Y-yes." "Apologize." She warns you with her eyes. "But-" Her hands instantly move.

Picking your hips up off of her making you whine out, her trips to the gym really paying off. "I'm sorry!" You screech. She gives it a second but she didn't need to. She had you exactly where she wanted you. "I'm sorry Bills, I'll talk to you next time just please. Please, need to feel you so bad." You felt pathetic, but you needed this desperately. She slowly puts you back down, making a moan slip into the car. It soon smelling of sex. Her hands continue their previous actions. Grabbing both your tits and kneading them. "Speed up baby, atta girl." Your eyes roll back as you feel her pinch your nipples. Moving up and down on her. Her hands moving down your body.

I can feel it in my brain.

Gripping your sides and helping you move even quicker. "Fuck!" You say falling against her, letting your head land on her shoulder. Her leg lifts up, bringing the one straddled on her up aswel in the process, getting a perfect angle. Your brain fogs up, squeezing your eyes shut as you feel it deeper. "Billie.." You breathe. She doesn't respond, only rutting her hips up into you. Causing you to almost scream but your mouth turns and bites the flesh on her shoulder. Her teeth sink into her lip as you do so, finding every action of yours attractive.

She grips your ass tightly, slamming you down with more force onto her dick. "Cum on me baby, do it. Know you can." Your head turns to the side, still having it rested on her shoulder. Moving so you can watch just a little of what was happening. Your breath uneven, having it warm against her neck as your fucked out state comes closer. And closer. And within seconds your juices are leaking all over her, moans floating into her eardrums. She was in heaven. "W-was that a good apology?" You tiredly speak.

She smiles to herself stroking your hair, soothingly. "Yeah baby. A very good one."

"I'm sorry too." She then says, kissing your head. "It's okay Billie. Trust me. We gave eachother a pretty good apology."

"Agreed."

[stormyfog]

his favorite 🗝️

teacher sunghoon x student fem!reader

content: high school au, yandere behavior, stalking, obsession, kidnapping, manipulation, smut later on

chapter 1

just a few weeks had passed since your 18th birthday, and senior year felt like it was dragging on. while most of your classmates were focused on graduation and college plans, you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that came with attending mr. park sunghoon’s history class. at first, his calm demeanor and occasional compliments about your work seemed harmless, but the way his dark eyes lingered on you during lectures left a knot of discomfort in your stomach.

you told yourself it was nothing—just a teacher showing interest in a promising student—but the signs were becoming harder to ignore. the way he always seemed to call on you for answers, even when your hand wasn’t raised. the way his voice softened when he said your name, as if savoring it. and the most unsettling part? the way he would subtly position himself closer to your desk, his presence looming just enough to make your pulse quicken.

it wasn’t just during class anymore. lately, you’d noticed him outside of school—always at the local coffee shop where you liked to study, or passing by the park when you took walks after school. at first, you thought it was a coincidence, but there was always something about his gaze that made you uneasy, like he was watching you. you couldn’t explain it, but every time you spotted him, he seemed to be waiting for the right moment to speak, his lips curling into that unnerving smile when you caught his eye.

it was hard to shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. sunghoon was 22, young for a teacher, and you were just 18—a senior in high school, barely an adult. the age gap didn’t seem like much at first, but the more you thought about his ‘coincidental’ appearances, the more it felt off. he had no reason to be at the coffee shop at the same time as you, let alone at the park during your evening walks. it was almost as if he was deliberately positioning himself in your path. the thought made your stomach churn, but you quickly pushed it aside, telling yourself it was nothing. still, the nagging feeling lingered, a quiet whisper telling you that it was all too strange.

you couldn’t keep the growing discomfort to yourself anymore, so you told your friends, yeji and yuna, about sunghoon’s strange appearances. they listened intently at first, but as soon as you mentioned the coffee shop and park, they burst into laughter. “oh, come on,” yeji teased, nudging you with her elbow. “maybe he’s just a fan of your ‘brilliant’ history essays.” yuna grinned, clearly enjoying the playful jab. “yeah, maybe he has a secret crush on you!” they both giggled, making light of it. but as the laughter died down, a hint of doubt crept into your mind. what if they were right? maybe you were just overthinking it. still, the uneasy feeling wouldn’t go away.

yeji and yuna had been your friends for about a year now, ever since you’d started hanging out more with their group. they were part of the popular crowd, the ones everyone seemed to gravitate toward, and you often found yourself in the middle of their social circle, even if you were sometimes on the outskirts. they were fun to be around, but they also had a way of ignoring you or teasing you, especially when it came to anything serious. like now, when you tried to explain the situation with sunghoon. it wasn’t the first time they’d brushed off something you were concerned about, and part of you couldn’t help but feel like maybe you were being too sensitive, but deep down, you couldn’t ignore the unease creeping into your thoughts.

what you didn’t know was that yeji and yuna had been talking behind your back for the past couple of months. you had no clue about their whispers and the things they were saying when you weren’t around, but sunghoon knew. he’d been watching you more closely than you realized. under the guise of a harmless social media account named history_nerd, sunghoon kept tabs on everything you did, including the things your friends said about you. his obsession with you ran deeper than you could have imagined, and he was planning something sinister involving your so-called ‘friends.’ they had no idea what they were unknowingly walking into, and neither did you. but sunghoon did, and he was already setting his plan into motion.

sunghoon’s obsession with you started at the beginning of senior year. his history class was a two-semester course, and you had signed up for it because you genuinely liked history and wanted to learn. what you didn’t realize was how much your dedication caught his attention. unlike most of the students who would sleep through lectures or tune out entirely, you actually paid attention, asking insightful questions and participating in discussions. it wasn’t lost on sunghoon that you were one of the few who truly cared about his subject. at first, he admired your focus, but over time, it turned into something darker—something deeper. every glance you shot him, every thoughtful comment, made his heart race. to him, you weren’t just a student; you were the only one who truly understood him, and he was determined to make you his in ways that no one else could.

chapter 2

during some free time in class, you pulled out your phone to check social media, hoping to distract yourself for a moment. as you scrolled through your feed, a post under the account history_nerd caught your attention. your heart skipped a beat as you saw a screenshot of yeji and yuna’s conversation—messages where they were talking about you, mocking you and betraying your trust. the caption beneath the screenshot read, “you shouldn’t trust others so easily.” your stomach twisted, and you felt a cold sweat form as you glanced up. sunghoon was watching you closely from across the room, his eyes piercing through you as though he knew exactly how you were feeling.

sunghoon had gotten his hands on that screenshot in the most sinister way. yesterday, after class, yeji had carelessly left her phone on her desk, oblivious to the fact that sunghoon had been waiting for the perfect moment. he casually slipped it into his bag, took it home with him, and plugged it into his laptop. hours later, he had everything—every message, every secret conversation yeji had ever had. he smirked as he uncovered the ugly words she and yuna had said about you, savoring the power he now held over both them and you. this morning, he made sure to leave the phone in the lost and found box at the front office, ensuring yeji would find it, none the wiser to how much had already been exposed.

after class, once everyone had left, you walked up to sunghoon’s desk, your heart pounding in your chest. “mr. park, did you post that?” you asked, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and fear. sunghoon looked up at the screenshot on your phone as you held it up to him, his face an innocent mask. “post what?” he asked, feigning confusion. “i have no idea what you’re talking about.” he leaned back in his chair, a calm smile forming on his lips. “but bullying is not tolerated in my classroom, and i’ll be having a word with yeji and yuna about it later.” he shrugged nonchalantly, acting as if he hadn’t just violated every boundary to make sure you saw that post. the way he looked at you made it clear that he knew exactly what he was doing—but he was playing the game all too well.

you quietly nodded, not wanting to provoke sunghoon any further, and walked away, the heavy weight of the situation pressing on your chest. you made your way to the cafeteria, sitting down with yeji and yuna, pretending nothing had happened, but a deep sadness lingered in your gut. as the conversation carried on around you, you tried to ignore the gnawing feeling of unease. then, one by one, everyone's phones buzzed with a notification, including yours. you glanced at your screen, heart sinking when you saw what it was. sunghoon had posted a nude photo of yeji—one that had clearly come from her private camera roll. the caption was simple, but chilling: "careful what you share, yeji." no one knew who had posted it, but it was clear that sunghoon had access to yeji’s phone. he had it all planned. he could do whatever he wanted, and it seemed like he was just getting started.

yeji and yuna noticed the post almost immediately. yeji’s face drained of color as she stared at her phone, her eyes wide in disbelief. "no... no way," she whispered, her hands trembling as she looked around the cafeteria, the realization sinking in. before anyone could say anything, yeji shot up from her seat, running out of the cafeteria in tears. a small part of me felt a twisted sense of satisfaction. after all, they had been talking behind my back for months, treating me like a joke. but then, a wave of guilt washed over me. who could do such a thing to someone? despite everything, seeing yeji cry like that made me question if this was all too much. sunghoon, however, was watching it all unfold. he leaned casually against the cafeteria door, his eyes gleaming as he observed yeji’s frantic escape.

chapter 3

the next few days were a blur. yeji avoided me, yuna barely spoke to me, and everything felt off. the weight of what had happened lingered in the air like a constant, uncomfortable pressure. the entire school seemed to be buzzing about the post, whispers and curious glances following me everywhere i went. sunghoon, though, acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary. he still smiled his usual, calm smile whenever we crossed paths. but there was something in his eyes—a coldness that sent shivers down my spine, something that reminded me that he was always watching.

i waited until the school day was over, eager to escape the chaos and find some peace at my favorite coffee shop. once the final bell rang, i headed over there, hoping for some quiet time to clear my mind. but when i walked in, there he was again—sunghoon. sitting by the window, sipping his coffee, his eyes immediately locking onto mine. my stomach dropped. this was probably the 9th? 10th? 11th? time i’d seen him here. i lost count. i couldn’t help but wonder if he was really stalking me. the way he watched me, his smile faint but knowing, sent a chill down my spine. i couldn’t shake the feeling that this was no coincidence anymore.

sunghoon motioned for me to sit across from him at a small round table meant for two, his gaze never leaving mine. i hesitated, but the way he looked at me made it hard to say no. as i slid into the seat, he leaned forward slightly, his smile curling at the edges. “i saw what happened today,” he said, his voice low, almost soothing. “and i’m going to make sure it doesn’t happen again.” his words were calm, but there was an underlying intensity in them that made my heart race. i didn't need to ask what he meant—his silence spoke louder than any threat could.

i slowly nodded, trying my best to avoid making eye contact with sunghoon. the weight of his gaze felt like it was pressing into me, making it hard to breathe. just as i was about to gather my thoughts, a waitress approached our table with a bright smile. "couples get dessert for free today since it’s national couples day! what would you like to order?" she asked cheerfully. i froze, about to explain that sunghoon and i were not a couple, but before i could say anything, he smoothly cut me off. "we’ll have one piece of tiramisu, please. for both of us," he said with that familiar calm tone, his smile never faltering. the waitress beamed at us and walked away to place our order, leaving me speechless and unsure of what just happened.

a wave of flustered warmth spread across my face, and i could feel the butterflies in my stomach fluttering uncontrollably. why am i feeling this way? i mentally scolded myself. sunghoon is my teacher—this is wrong! but no matter how hard i tried to push the feelings away, i couldn’t help it. sunghoon noticed my flushed cheeks and the way i fidgeted in my seat. a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he leaned in slightly, his gaze softening. “you’re cute,” he remarked, his voice low and teasing. the way he said it made my heart race even faster, and i could feel my face burn hotter in response.

just as i was trying to calm myself down, the door to the coffee shop swung open with force, and in stormed yeji and yuna. they looked directly at me and sunghoon, their faces filled with accusation. yeji’s eyes were wide with fury as she pointed a finger at both of us. “you two,” she spat, her voice trembling with anger. “you’re the ones behind the history_nerd account, aren’t you? and don’t even try to pretend like this is just a ‘coincidence’—you always ‘run into’ each other after school.” her voice was a mix of disbelief and anger, and i could feel the tension in the air. sunghoon didn’t flinch, his calm demeanor unchanged, but my heart raced as i anxiously waited for what he’d say next.

i opened my mouth to defend myself, ready to explain that sunghoon was always the one ‘bumping’ into me after school, but before i could say anything, sunghoon spoke up, his voice sharp and authoritative. "yeji, yuna," he began, his tone calm but with a hint of coldness, "you shouldn't be blaming a teacher like that. it's completely inappropriate." he leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving them. "and just so you know," he continued, his smile darkening slightly, "this coffee shop is still on school grounds. the school owns it. so, if you want to keep making accusations, perhaps you'd like to consider the consequences. this kind of behavior could get you both in trouble." the weight of his words hung in the air, and i could feel the shift in the room as yeji and yuna hesitated, unsure of how to respond.

"ugh, whatever!" yeji huffed, her face red with frustration. with a final glare, both she and yuna stormed out of the coffee shop, leaving the air heavy with tension. i sat there in shock, still processing everything that had just happened. no one had ever accused me like that before. the sudden shift in the atmosphere left me feeling vulnerable, like the walls were closing in around me. before i could gather my thoughts, sunghoon reached across the table, his hand gently but firmly grabbing mine. his grip tightened, and i instinctively looked up at him, meeting his gaze. his expression was soft, almost comforting, but his words sent a chill down my spine. "see?" he murmured, his voice low and steady. "i need to be here to protect you, y/n. you have no idea how dangerous this world can be." his words felt heavy, like they held more meaning than i could grasp. something about the way he said it made my heart race, but i couldn't tell if it was out of fear or something else entirely.

as sunghoon spoke, i felt a strange warmth wash over me, like i could finally trust someone. he was right, after all—maybe the world was dangerous, and maybe i did need someone to protect me. slowly, i started to believe his manipulation, letting the thoughts creep into my mind. i nodded quietly as he pulled out his phone and offered me his number, a small, reassuring smile playing at the corners of his lips. "call me if anything's troubling you," he said, his voice so sincere it almost felt real. i took his number, and before i could process anything further, he was already offering to walk me home. as we left the coffee shop, my mind was clouded with a mixture of confusion and comfort, feeling safer with each step we took together. but deep down, i couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that something was off. bad mistake, i thought to myself. sunghoon now knew where i lived. and something told me that this wasn’t going to end well.

chapter 4

the weekend finally arrived, but instead of feeling the usual excitement that came with the break from school, i found myself paralyzed with fear. after the confrontation with yeji and yuna, i couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that followed me like a shadow. the thought of running into them again—or worse, dealing with their accusations in front of more people—was enough to keep me indoors. meanwhile, miles away, sunghoon was at home, sitting in his dimly lit living room. his phone screen glowed as he scrolled through a secret gallery of photos he had taken of me—pictures i hadn’t even realized he’d taken. each photo captured moments i thought were private, moments i never noticed him watching. a sinister smile tugged at his lips as he stared at them, utterly consumed by his obsession.

feeling restless, i decided to distract myself by scrolling through social media for a while. but of course, i couldn’t escape the uneasiness for long. as i mindlessly swiped through posts, one in particular caught my attention, making my heart race. it was from history_nerd again. this time, the post was a photo of me walking home from school—taken from behind, as if someone had been following me. my chest tightened in fear as i stared at the picture. without thinking, i quickly took a screenshot and sent it to sunghoon. this has to be him, i thought. he always seemed to pop up wherever i was. who else could it be?

sunghoon’s response came almost instantly. instead of addressing my question, he asked, “is someone stalking you?” his words sent a chill down my spine, the calculated phrasing making my stomach churn. i hesitated before replying, my fingers trembling as i typed out, “yes, i think so.” i had no idea what game he was playing, but part of me felt compelled to trust him. his next message came just seconds later: “remember, i’m here to protect you.” those words lingered in my mind, both comforting and unsettling at the same time.

feeling an inexplicable pull toward sunghoon, i couldn’t ignore the fact that i’d been harboring feelings for him for a while now. i knew it was wrong—a student shouldn’t have feelings for their teacher—but i couldn’t help it. his presence, his words, they all made me feel safe yet unnerved at the same time. my phone buzzed again, his message reading: “can i stop by?” i stared at the text, battling my paranoia and the faint comfort his words brought. after a moment of hesitation, i typed out a shaky “yes.” before i could send my address, another text came through: “don’t worry, i’m already here.”

i peeked out the window, and there he was—sunghoon stepping out of his car, his figure illuminated by the faint glow of the streetlights. my heart raced as i hurried downstairs, my footsteps echoing in the quiet house. i opened the door to find him standing there, a calm smile on his face, as if he belonged there. my mind raced with questions: how did he get here so quickly? was he waiting outside this whole time? the thought sent a chill down my spine, but i couldn’t stop myself from stepping aside and letting him in.

sunghoon handed me a small gift box, his calm demeanor unsettling. i looked at him, confused, but he simply said, "go on, open it." hesitantly, i peeled back the delicate ribbon and lifted the lid. my breath hitched as my eyes widened in sheer horror—a severed index finger lay inside, bloodied and grotesque. i stumbled back, nearly dropping the box, as sunghoon leaned in slightly, his voice low and steady. "it's yeji's finger," he explained, almost casually. "specifically, the one she used to point at you in the coffee shop." his words sent a shiver down my spine, and i realized just how far his obsession had gone.

i stared at him, trembling, my voice barely above a whisper. "what did you do...?" his expression remained calm, almost too calm, as he answered, "i took care of yeji and yuna for good. they won’t bother you again." my heart sank as his words registered. did he kill them? the disbelief must have been written all over my face because, before i could say anything, he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a menacing tone. "if you even think about telling anyone about this, y/n, i’ll make your life a living hell. your grades, your reputation—everything will crumble. do you understand me?" his cold, unrelenting gaze pinned me in place, and i felt completely trapped. i hesitantly nodded, too terrified to do anything else. sunghoon’s lips curled into a small, satisfied smile. “good,” he said, his tone unsettlingly calm. sunghoon straightened up and extended his hand, his voice now eerily soft. "now, give me your phone, y/n." confused, i hesitated for a moment, but the look on his face left no room for defiance. reluctantly, i handed it to him, watching as he pulled a small chip from his pocket. he inserted it into the back of my phone with practiced ease, then handed it back to me with a chilling smile. "there," he said, his tone almost mocking. "now i’ll always be watching you. anytime, anywhere. don’t forget, y/n—i’m here to protect you." his words made my skin crawl.

“i have to leave now—i have a meeting to attend. see you next week, love.” his voice lingered in the air, sending chills down my spine as he turned and walked out the door. i stood frozen in place, staring at the grotesque gift he’d left behind: the severed finger. my emotions swirled into a confusing storm—fear, disbelief, and a horrifyingly misplaced sense of affection. what was wrong with me? why couldn’t i stop the strange pull i felt toward him, even now?

chapter 5

the following week arrived, and as i sat at my desk, my gaze drifted to the two empty seats where yeji and yuna used to sit. the classroom felt heavier, the usual chatter subdued by the weight of their absence. everyone had seen the news over the weekend—yeji and yuna were murdered in cold blood. the reports offered little detail, only confirming the gruesome truth: no suspect had been found. whispers of fear and speculation filled the air, but i remained silent, my stomach twisting with guilt and dread. i knew more than i ever could admit, yet i stayed frozen in my chair, pretending to be as clueless as the rest.

sunghoon continued class like normal, as if nothing ever happened. his calm demeanor was almost unnerving, as though the chilling events from the previous week were just another routine part of life. i tried to focus on the lesson, but my mind kept wandering, the weight of what he'd done still lingering heavily on me. once class was done, i gathered my things, ready to leave and grab something to eat in the cafeteria. but before i could make my way to the door, sunghoon called out to me, his voice smooth and casual. "y/n, wait." i turned to find him standing by his desk, his gaze steady. "i was thinking, maybe we could have lunch together today. just the two of us, in the classroom. what do you say?" his smile was warm, but something about it sent a chill down my spine. i stood frozen for a moment, unsure of how to respond.

i hesitated for a brief moment, but ultimately agreed, not wanting to know what sunghoon might do if i declined his offer. we sat together in the empty classroom, sharing his meal. the silence between us was oddly comfortable, though my heart was still pounding in my chest. sunghoon broke the silence with a soft chuckle. "this reminds me of our little coffee 'date,'" he said, his eyes glinting with something i couldn’t quite read. he leaned back in his chair, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "i guess you could say this is our second date."

i blinked, trying to process his words. my mouth went dry as i glanced at him, unsure of what to say. after a moment of silence, i gathered the courage to speak up. "mr. park... isn’t it a bit inappropriate for a teacher and a student to have a relationship?" my voice trembled slightly as i spoke, but i couldn’t hold it in anymore.

sunghoon didn’t seem fazed at all by my question. he simply leaned forward, his expression softening in a way that made my heart skip a beat. "y/n," he said, his voice low and serious, "my love for you can’t be controlled. it’s something that’s meant to be. i need to be with you. we belong together." the intensity of his gaze made my blood run cold, but i couldn’t look away. it was like he was pulling me into his world, one i wasn’t sure i wanted to be a part of.

sunghoon’s smile deepened as he leaned back in his chair, his eyes studying me with an unsettling intensity. “you don’t have to call me ‘mr. park’ anymore, y/n,” he said softly, almost coaxing. “now that we’re in a relationship, just call me sunghoon.” i froze, my mind racing to process what he just said. a relationship? how were we already in one? my confusion must have been obvious because sunghoon’s expression softened, as if patiently waiting for me to understand. “the finger i gave you,” he continued, his voice low and steady, “was a vow. a symbol of my commitment to you. it’s my promise that i’ll always be here for you, to protect you, to love you.” he reached out and cupped my hand in his, his thumb lightly stroking the back of my palm. “we’ve already started this journey together, y/n. you belong to me now, and nothing will change that.”

"b-but i don't understand—" i stuttered, but before i could finish my sentence, sunghoon cut me off with a sudden kiss. his lips pressed against mine, firm but gentle, as if to silence my confusion. when he pulled back, he smirked, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling confidence. "there," he said, his voice smooth and calm. "now, do you understand?" i blinked, my heart racing as i sat there flustered, still processing what had just happened. my thoughts were a whirlwind, and the confusion only grew as i looked at him, unable to fully comprehend the depth of his intentions. i was torn between disbelief and a strange, unsettling pull toward him.

sunghoon noticed the confusion on my face and, without a word, got up from his seat. he moved behind me, turning my chair so that i was now facing him directly. slowly, he knelt down in front of me, his hands gently resting on my thighs as he looked up at me with an intensity that made my breath hitch. his eyes were filled with something i couldn't quite place—desperation, love, maybe both. "y/n," he said, his voice soft but filled with an undeniable urgency. "please, i love you so much. you don't understand." his words sent a shiver down my spine, and for a moment, everything around us seemed to fade away. it was just the two of us—his gaze locking with mine, leaving me unsure of how to respond or what to feel.

"but sungh—mr. park... this is wrong..." i whispered, my voice trembling as i looked down at him. my heart raced, torn between the feelings i couldn't deny and the fear of what could happen if anyone found out. what if someone caught us? what would happen to me? sunghoon’s gaze softened, but there was a certain intensity in his eyes that made it hard to look away. slowly, he reached up and cupped my cheek, his thumb gently stroking my skin. "i’ll make sure you understand how much i love you," he said softly, his voice laced with determination. my heart skipped a beat as i struggled to comprehend the weight of his words.

chapter 6

i went to school the next day, heart fluttering at the thought of seeing sunghoon again, even though i shouldn't be feeling this way. i knew what was going on between us was wrong, but i couldn't help it. my emotions were tangled, and the more i tried to ignore it, the stronger my feelings became. as i walked down the hallway, lost in my thoughts, a boy suddenly bumped into me, making me stumble slightly. "watch where you're going, dumbass!" he snapped, not even bothering to look at me as he walked away. i blinked in surprise, not used to being spoken to like that. the boy was changbin—one of the popular kids, part of the school football team. he was loud, obnoxious, and an egoistical narcissist, always acting like the world revolved around him. what i didn’t realize was that sunghoon had been watching me the whole time, his eyes following the interaction from the corner of the hallway.

sunghoon’s eyes narrowed as he watched changbin walk away, his mind already working over how to get rid of him. he didn’t take kindly to anyone disrespecting what was his—whether they realized it or not. the idea of changbin causing me any kind of distress was enough to spark a dark glint in his eyes. he was already making plans, devising ways to ensure no one ever dared to treat me poorly again.

but as his thoughts consumed him, he was snapped out of them when i walked past him, heading toward his classroom. his gaze lingered on me for a moment, a sense of satisfaction settling in his chest as i moved closer to him. "y/n," he whispered under his breath, barely audible to anyone else, "don't worry. no one will hurt you anymore."

the next day, after school, i returned home to find a neatly wrapped gift sitting on my doorstep. my heart skipped a beat as i stared at it, dread creeping up my spine. i picked it up and took it inside, setting it on the table before slowly opening it. my stomach churned as i lifted the lid to reveal a severed tongue, still fresh. a note rested beside it, scrawled in sunghoon’s handwriting: “changbin has been taken care of.” my breath hitched as i read it again—so quickly? i thought, my mind reeling. the realization hit me with a sickening clarity: the mouth that had bad mouthed me was gone, silenced forever. i couldn’t decide whether i felt fear or an unsettling sense of relief.

i wanted to call the police, desperately hoping for a way out, but then i remembered the chip sunghoon had placed in my phone. he could be listening to everything i said, tracking my every move. my stomach twisted as the realization hit me hard. i couldn't do anything through my phone. but then, a plan began to form in my mind. i quickly hid my phone in a drawer where sunghoon couldn’t track me and grabbed my landline phone. my hands trembled as i dialed the cops, praying that they wouldn’t trace the call back to me. but as i spoke, a nagging feeling clawed at me. little did i know, sunghoon had already anticipated this. he’d snuck into my house at night while i was sleeping, tapping into the wires and setting up hidden cameras. he was watching me, tracking my every move, even now.

when the cops arrived, i rushed to explain everything—how sunghoon had been stalking me, manipulating me, and even going as far as sending me body parts. i thought for sure they would take me seriously, but to my shock, sunghoon had already anticipated this. as soon as the cops arrived at his house, he simply explained that there was someone threatening his girlfriend, trying to frame him for things he didn't do. he played the role of the concerned boyfriend to perfection, and the officers, looking at his calm demeanor and well-spoken story, were convinced. they told me that there was no evidence to support my claims and left, leaving me feeling more trapped than ever. sunghoon had twisted everything, and now, even the police believed him over me.

i got my phone out of the drawer and stared at it in horror when i saw sunghoon’s text: "you shouldn't have done that, sweetheart. you know what happens now." panic flooded my chest as i desperately called him, my voice trembling. "i’m sorry, sunghoon. i didn’t mean to... please, don’t ruin my reputation." i pleaded, the weight of everything sinking in. i could almost hear the smirk in his voice as he responded, "i like hearing you beg like that, y/n. it sounds so much better when you’re on the brink of tears." my heart raced. i begged him to stop, to please not do anything more. "i’ll do anything, just... please don’t ruin my reputation, i’m begging you!" i said, remembering his earlier threats. he had me in his grasp, and i could feel the suffocating control he had over me.

chapter 7

the next day, i walked into school, still shaken from what had happened last night. the image of sunghoon’s text and his voice echoing in my mind wouldn’t leave me. i couldn’t focus during class, my thoughts constantly drifting back to the mess i had gotten myself into. throughout the lesson, i could feel sunghoon’s eyes on me, his gaze burning into the side of my face. every time i dared to look up, i caught him staring, as if making sure i wouldn’t forget who had the power in this twisted relationship. as soon as the bell rang, signaling the end of class, he called me over to his desk. my heart pounded as i walked toward him, wondering what he wanted this time.

suddenly, without warning, sunghoon pulled me onto his lap, making me face him. my heart raced as i was caught off guard by his sudden movement, the closeness between us making my head spin. i flushed, flustered, as i tried to wriggle out of his grip, but his arms tightened around me, holding me firmly in place. "you'll do anything, right?" he murmured, his voice dripping with that same calm authority i had grown used to hearing. my mind flashed back to what i had said last night, and i felt a rush of panic rise within me. "s-sunghoon!" i stammered, trying to push myself away slightly, "someone might see us!" but his smirk only grew wider as he pulled me closer.

sunghoon suddenly leaned in and kissed me, a deep, intense kiss that left me breathless. i felt his hands gripping my sides, holding me in place as if he didn’t want to let go. my thoughts scattered, and for a moment, everything seemed to blur into nothing but the feeling of him against me. but then, as the kiss lingered, my mind started to clear, and the overwhelming rush of emotions made me pull back, gasping for air. "i-i don’t think i can do this, sunghoon..." i said, my voice trembling with uncertainty, my heart pounding in my chest.

i immediately got up from his lap, my legs shaking as i quickly scrambled out of his embrace. my heart was racing as i rushed out of the classroom, trying to steady my breath. what was i thinking? i couldn't let myself be dragged into this any further. i didn’t want this. i couldn’t. but as i hurried down the hallway, i could feel his gaze on me, watching every move i made. i turned around briefly and saw sunghoon sitting there, his lips curled into a smug smirk, as if he knew exactly what i was feeling.

after school, i lay down on my bed, trying to shake off the events of the day, when i got a text from sunghoon. hesitant, i opened it and froze. it was a picture of me sitting on my bed, taken from somewhere in the room. my heart skipped a beat as i scrolled to his next message: "it's so nice watching you." a cold shiver ran down my spine as the realization hit me—he was watching me. right now.

sunghoon then bombarded me with a flood of photos—me in my house, in my bedroom, even in my bathroom. my stomach twisted as i scrolled through each one, horrified at how many he had. i couldn’t even remember when he had taken them. the last message that came through read, “it’s fun seeing you pleasure yourself, hearing your desperate moans. every time you do it, i pleasure myself too. i want to feel myself inside of you.” my heart pounded in my chest, and i felt completely exposed, trapped in my own home with no way to escape his watchful eyes.

sunghoon’s next message popped up on my screen: “you should visit me sometime, then we can spend some real time together.” my hands trembled as i stared at the words. i couldn’t do this anymore. this constant fear, the way he controlled everything—it was suffocating. i couldn’t breathe. with a heavy heart, i decided to block him, hoping for some peace, even though i knew it might only be temporary. i needed to get away, clear my mind. i grabbed my jacket and stepped outside, deciding to take a walk in the evening, hoping the fresh air would help shake off the weight that had been dragging me down.

as i walked, a sinking feeling grew in my stomach. i couldn’t shake the sensation that someone was following me. i kept turning around, scanning the street, but saw nothing. i hurried my pace, trying to ignore the unsettling feeling, when i turned back to face forward—there he was. sunghoon. right in front of me. i stumbled back in shock, my heart racing. he stared at me, his eyes cold and stern, his voice low but sharp. "why did you block me?" i couldn’t answer. i was frozen, unable to speak. sunghoon took a step closer, his words biting. "i gave you so much love until now, but you gave me nothing." my voice trembled as i spoke, barely able to form the words. "sunghoon, this isn't how you love someone..." his eyes darkened, and he stepped even closer, his presence overwhelming. "then how else am i supposed to express my love to you?" i didn’t say anything. i couldn’t. my thoughts were a mess, my chest tight. what could i say to that?

sunghoon grabbed me, ready to kiss me, but i pulled back, trying to escape from him. sunghoon was quicker and stronger, grabbing my arms from behind, preventing me from running. he whispered close to my ear, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine, "you made me do this. i tried protecting you, but you won't listen." before i could react, he pressed a cloth over my nose and mouth, and the chemical scent hit me almost instantly. i struggled to stay conscious, but the world quickly blurred and faded to black. sunghoon carefully lifted me into his arms and carried me to his car, driving off to his house.

chapter 8 (smut)

i woke up in a daze, my mind foggy as i tried to make sense of my surroundings. the room was unfamiliar, cold, and sterile, but what caught my eye was the disturbing sight of pictures of me, scattered across the walls, each one pinned up like some twisted shrine. panic flooded my body as i tried to move, only to realize i was tied to the bed, my limbs restrained. the door creaked open, and there he was—sunghoon. his expression was desperate, his gaze fixated on me. he crawled onto the bed, hovering over me, his voice shaky as he whispered, "why won't you just accept my love, y/n? please, let me love you." i stared at him, my heart a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. i didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to escape, yet part of me felt trapped in something i couldn’t quite understand.

sunghoon leaned in, his lips pressing against mine, but i pulled back, my breath shaky. "please, sunghoon, stop," i whispered, my heart racing. he didn’t listen, his grip on my wrists tightening as he leaned in again, his voice soft yet filled with an intensity that made my skin crawl. "don’t resist, y/n. you were made for me to love. you can’t deny it. you belong to me." his words echoed in my mind, twisting and distorting everything i had once believed, leaving me feeling more trapped than ever before.

sunghoon kissed me again, more passionately this time, his lips hungry and demanding. he grabbed my waist, pulling me even closer to him, as if he couldn’t get enough. i whimpered softly in between the kisses, my body shivering as his lips moved down my neck, planting tender yet fervent kisses along the sensitive skin. each kiss sent waves of heat through me, and i felt my heart race faster. his touch was intoxicating, and i couldn't help but melt into him, caught in the intensity of the moment.

sunghoon's hands moved with slow determination, gently removing my clothes, his touch careful yet full of intent. each piece that fell away felt like a step deeper into vulnerability. his lips continued their path, each kiss a promise as he moved down my body, his warm breath against my skin sending sparks of anticipation through me. when he finally reached my core, he paused for a moment, his gaze meeting mine, dark and filled with longing. i couldn't breathe, the air thick with tension as i waited for what would come next.

sunghoon's head descended between my thighs, his tongue teasing my clit with gentle licks. my back arched involuntarily as pleasure coursed through me, but i couldn't move much since my arms were secured above my head by those restraints. he then plunged his tongue deep within me, feasting on my wetness like a starving man. the sensation was too intense to resist as moans escaped from between my lips as sunghoon devoured me whole. his groan of satisfaction vibrated through me, sending shivers down my spine and making me whimper for more.

"i'm so close!" i whispered to sunghoon, my body trembling with anticipation. he didn't pause or slow down, his tongue still dancing across my clit. the sensation was building up inside me like a storm about to break free. sunghoon seemed to sense it too, his fingers digging gently into my hips as he continued to feast on me. then it happened—a wave of pleasure crashed over me, sending shivers down my spine and making every muscle in my body contract. i screamed out loud as the orgasm ripped through me, feeling sunghoon's groan of satisfaction vibrate against my skin.

as i came down from my high, sunghoon stood up, his movements fluid and confident. he undressed slowly, revealing the full length of his hard member to me. my eyes widened as he stepped closer, his gaze burning with an intense passion. "i'm going to show you just how much i love you," he whispered huskily against my ear. his warm breath sent shivers down my spine as he pressed himself against me. "you're mine now, completely mine."

as sunghoon positioned himself at my entrance, i felt a flutter of uncertainty. his cock was massive, and i wondered if i could truly take it all. but before i could say anything, he whispered reassurances in my ear. "you can take it," he coaxed, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. "i know you're tight, but trust me when i say you can handle every inch." with that confidence-building promise ringing in my ears, he slowly began to push forward. at first, it was just the tip of him entering me—a gentle probing that made me gasp with surprise. but as he continued to push deeper and deeper into me. the pressure built, and i moaned softly as he slid in another inch.

as sunghoon hovered over me, his cock buried deep within my depths, he claimed my mouth with a passionate kiss. his tongue danced against mine, the pressure building as he began to thrust into me once more. the sensation was intoxicating—his hard length moving in and out of me while our lips remained locked. i felt myself getting lost in the rhythm—the gentle rocking motion of his hips, the soft moans escaping from between our lips. it was like we were one being now.

as sunghoon's thrusts quickened, his cock pistoning in and out of me with a frenzied intensity. i felt myself getting caught up in the moment, my body responding to his possessive rhythm. he was claiming me now—every inch of him buried deep within me as he pounded into me like a wild animal. i could feel his dominance coursing through me like a river—the raw power and strength that drove him to take what was rightfully his. it was intoxicating, this sense of being completely owned by him. and yet, despite the overwhelming sensations building inside me, i couldn't help but crave more.

"i'm so close again-!," i said to sunghoon, my body trembling with anticipation. tears began to form at the corners of my eyes as the sensations building inside me reached a fever pitch. the pressure was too much—his cock still pounding into me like a jackhammer, his lips still claiming mine in a passionate kiss. i felt myself getting lost in the storm of pleasure and pain, unable to distinguish one from the other.

as i came again, my body convulsing around sunghoon's cock like a vice. he groaned loudly against my mouth, his hips pumping furiously as he chased his own release. and then it hit him—a massive orgasm that ripped through every fiber of his being. he came inside me, filling me with his hot seed as our bodies shook and trembled together.

sunghoon then laid next to me, our bodies still entwined from our intense lovemaking. sunghoon wrapped his arms around me, holding me close as he whispered softly against my ear. "now do you understand how much i love you?" he asked, his voice husky with emotion. i felt a lump form in my throat as i nodded silently, overwhelmed by the depth of his feelings for me. he held me tighter, his grip like a vice as he buried his face in my hair. in that moment, it was clear that nothing could ever come between us.

[rememberwren]

/•Harmless Fun 7•\

Former and further chapters can be found here.

You and Johnny kiss. With company. Ghoap/fem!reader, dry humping, kissing, handjobs, exhibitionism, suggestion of blowjobs.

-

Kissing Johnny only gets easier, and it was easy to begin with.

-

The next morning sees you running late for work. After your late night, you had forgotten to set your alarm and hadn’t awoken until the sun spilled in through your open curtains and you could hear the sound of Simon bustling around at the other end of the apartment. You had taken the quickest shower of your life, brushed your teeth, and done your best to make yourself presentable, rehearsing potential excuses in your head for your boss. There was a crash on I-57; my car broke down; a child fell down a well… 

You didn’t even have time to grab a cup of Simon’s coffee before you were wrenching the front door open, but when Johnny calls out sharply for you to halt, you are startled enough into stopping your frenzied rush, turning to blink at his careful, limping approach. He cups your jaw and brings your mouth to his, tasting like creamer and sugar, just the way you like your coffee. 

“Have a good day, hen,” he says when he pulls back, giving you an innocuous smile. 

Your eyes flitter to Simon, who is leaning with one hip against the kitchen island, coffee halfway to his mouth, brows raised—it’s reflexive to check on him, to make sure that Johnny hasn’t made him angry with this sudden show of affection. To make sure that you’re allowed to enjoy it. When Simon’s coffee finally completes its circuit to his mouth, you look back at Johnny and give him a shy smile. 

“You too,” you say for lack of better words. After you shut the door, you mouth to yourself, Oh my god. Then you remember your own lateness and rush down to the parking lot, praying for green lights all the way to work. 

Inside the apartment, Johnny fixes Simon with a smug expression. 

Simon shakes his head, eyes rolling toward the ceiling. 

-

When you get home from work, feet aching and a knot in your neck, it all seems to melt away as Johnny sits up from where he was slumped on the couch and draws you onto his lap. You’re careful not to put too much pressure on his bad thigh, gripping his shoulders tightly, eyes flickering around the apartment looking for the looming presence of Johnny’s other half once Johnny’s intent seems clear. 

“Where’s Simon?” you breathe. 

“Out,” says Johnny, taking your chin in his fingers and coaxing you down toward his mouth. He pauses, lips nearly brushing. “Should we wait so he can watch?” 

“What?” 

Johnny grins. He leans up the last few hairs’ breadths and kisses you, and Simon finds you in a similar place nearly an hour later. 

You’ve shifted of course, unable to kneel for so long without your legs falling asleep. Now Johnny lays with his bad thigh braced against the back of the couch, legs opened for you to be nestled between, your arms looped around his neck so you can play with the soft hairs at the back of his head. 

Your mouth feels numb from kissing, your thoughts syrupy and slow, focused only on the softness of Johnny’s mouth, the way his stubble rubs your cheeks raw (and your neck, when he gives your mouth a break and trails his lips down your jaw to the space between your neck and shoulder). Your head feels light and airy, your heart too, positively buoyant with all the affection. The only part of you that doesn’t feel sleepy and slow is that needy place between your legs; there you ache, slick enough for your panties to stick to you every time you shift. 

Johnny isn’t unaffected, either. He’s been hard since he dragged you onto his lap, but he seems completely content to do nothing about it. Anytime you try to escalate your kisses into something a little firmer, a little more satisfying, he drags you back to that soft and slow place where it feels like all your thoughts leak out your ears. 

“Johnny,” you breathe into the crook of his neck, resting your own sore one. He hums in answer. “Don’t you want—more?” 

“Got you in my lap,” he says, hands massaging your hips firmly. “What more could I possibly want?” 

You let your pelvis settle a little more firmly against his own, rocking against his hard cock. He can’t control the way his breath hitches at the stimulation, fingertips digging into your flesh. 

“Oh, him?” Johnny asks innocently. “Just ignore him.” 

“I don’t want to ignore him,” you mutter sulkily. “I want to sit on him.” 

Johnny guffaws. Beneath you, his cock twitches. 

The door opens and Simon enters. He’s dripping sweat from his run, and for the first time you notice the backpack he carries with him, the way it seems to droop against his back, like it’s filled with something heavy. All three of you freeze at the sight of the other. The moment is broken by a buzzing—Simon fishes his phone from his pocket and sighs, pressing it to his ear. 

“I’m listening,” he says, shutting the front door behind him. 

Johnny reaches out softly and turns your chin back towards him. There is something in his eyes, something mischievous, but all he does is coax your mouth back down to his and kiss you again. You sigh against his mouth, eyes fluttering closed as he sucks sweetly on your tongue. You hear the sound of Simon’s voice, but his words go in one ear and out the other, the warm rumble of his tenor doing nothing to help the ache between your thighs. 

Johnny grips your hips in his hands and—oh, oh god. He rocks you gently against him, his cock brushing against your soaked sex through your respective layers. It sends a jolt through you, even this small stimulation feeling good after denying yourself for so long. You can’t help the sound that slips out of your throat, the little whine that Johnny swallows whole and matches with a warm, pleased hum. 

You know what he’s doing now. Had he planned it to be like this? It’s hard to imagine that he hadn’t, not with his earlier flippant phrase of waiting for Simon to watch. Respectability wars with your own need, and you find that it’s far too easy to let your need win, to let Johnny’s hands guide you against his cock again and again, stoking that fire in your belly into something transcendental, something too big to be ignored. 

“Johnny?” you hear Simon say to whoever is on the other end of the phone, the name briefly breaking through your stupor. “Being a pain in my ass, as usual.” 

You break away from Johnny’s mouth but can’t seem to stop the gentle rolling of your hips. Instead you bury your face in his neck, hoping for some reprieve from the embarrassment that has your face aflame, from the shame that seems to be doing nothing but whetting the ache between your legs. 

“Johnny,” you whine quietly. “Be fair.” 

“What’s unfair?” he breathes. He jerks his hips up against you softly. “Oh—this? You want me to stop? Just say the word.” 

You chance a glance toward Simon and find that he still has the phone pressed to his ear, but his eyes are focused firmly on you and Johnny, his expression of greater intensity than usual: brows lower, eyes darker, scarred mouth barely parted, like he has something to say but can’t. He meets your eyes and hums something noncommittal into the phone. You wonder if he’s paying attention to the call at all. 

Simon turns his eyes away. He reaches down and grips the hem of his shirt, lifts it up to wipe at his dripping brow, and it gives you a glance of his body: pale and scarred, but so fucking strong, muscled with a nice layer of padding. Fuck, they are both so painfully beautiful. You realize that Johnny has stopped his gentle ministrations on your hips and that now all the movement is due to you: you’re the one grinding against his hard cock. You hide in his neck again, placing sloppy kisses against his steady pulse. 

“That’s it,” Johnny mutters, barely loud enough for you to hear. His hands slip around to cup your arse. “Does that feel good?” 

You nod. Anything would feel good after so much time spent on the most innocent of foreplay, anything would feel good with how swollen and wet you were. Johnny’s hands press against you, lengthening your strokes, turning your hasty, jerky movements into slow, sensual rolls of your hips, maximizing the contact between you both. 

“Sit up, I want to see you,” he whispers. Your head is so full of cotton that you do, forgetting for a moment that Simon is there. He’s watching you again, one hand braced against the countertop, dark eyes watching the way you grind against his husband’s cock, knuckles white where he grips the phone and presses it to his ear, giving the occasional grunt to whomever is on the other line. Johnny says: “Fuck, yer beautiful.” 

You ignore that, unwilling to let him fluster you any more than you already are. Instead you brace your hands against his chest and quicken your hips, feeling the coil inside your belly twist tight. You’ve needed to cum since last night, since Johnny first kissed you with Simon right there watching. All you want is to feel that sweet burst of pleasure, to let it rise up like high tide and drown you. Johnny’s hands smooth along your thighs and up your belly and cup the fullness of your breasts, and that’s all you need to cover your face, mouth falling open as a painfully embarrassing sound is torn from your throat. Your body is wracked with shivers as your pussy clenches tight around nothing, and you’d forgotten over the years just how unsatisfying these kinds of orgasms could be. You needed something inside you, something you could clench down on, if only Johnny had been willing to give it to you. 

A door clicks shut. Your misty eyes open to find that Simon is gone. 

“Beautiful,” Johnny says, drawing you back down into his arms for a kiss. Against your mouth, he mutters: “Yer perfect.” 

“We scared off Simon,” you groan, forehead resting against his own. Beneath you, his cock is still hard, reminding you that he still hasn’t cum yet—likely can’t with just this level of stimulation. 

“Yeah, he’s scared t’ death,” Johnny says, eyes rolling, his hands smoothing up and down the small of your back. “Probably already got his cock out in the next room.” 

You frown. That wouldn’t make any sense. You decide to focus on what does make sense—helping Johnny find his own pleasure. Reaching down, you lightly trail your fingers over his clothed cock, feeling positively electric when he gives a shaky sigh, cock jerking beneath your tentative touch. 

“Want some help?” you ask. 

He just gives you a soft smile. “Actually, I know just the person who’s going to help me.” 

-

When Johnny enters the bedroom, Simon is nowhere in sight. The light coming from beneath the ensuite door tells him all he needs to know. He raps his knuckles against the door and waits, unable to help the grin that stretches his mouth and the way his cock nudges at the fly of his denim. The door opens and a hand reaches out, gripping the collar of his shirt and pulling him in, pressing him back against the door with enough force to rattle the knob. 

“Hi love,” Johnny coos. “How was your run?” 

Simon kisses him, sucks on his full lower lips, licks into his open mouth like it is a cup he can drink his fill from. Johnny meets him with equal fervor, his hands falling to find Simon’s belt already undone, his cock already free and hard. It’s a warm, familiar weight in his palm as he strokes his lover and thumbs at the leaking head. 

“Not—not being subtle at all,” Johnny warns him. 

Simon just grunts in between kisses. 

“What, can you taste her on me?” Johnny teases. 

Simon groans and buries his face in the crook of Johnny’s neck where you had buried your own. He presses his mouth to every mark you left behind, teases your teeth marks with his own, hips thrusting into the tight fist of Johnny’s hand. 

“You’re not subtle either,” Simon grits out, palms placed flat on the oak door, pinning Johnny in place. “She’s going to catch on that you’re trying to play matchmaker.” 

“I’m not aiming for subtle,” Johnny breathes. He presses Simon back with a palm against his chest and drops to his knees, even as Simon’s eyes tighten with disapproval, knowing Johnny can’t remain in the position long. Johnny just grins, easy and lighter than he’s felt in weeks. “I’ve got about five minutes before my leg starts killin’ me…think you can cum before then?” 

“I think that depends on how good your mouth treats me,” Simon says. 

“I’d better get to work then, hadn’t I?”

[satansdarlin]

Blue stained glass

While I work on the fourth chapter of a full deck of cards I also decided to write for another one of my boys! Welcoming Kurt Wagner to the stage! Apologies for any bad German, I'm still learning it and often forget that it is a gendered language so please forgive me.

MDNI

Rating: E

Word count: 8.3k

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x shy!artist!fem!reader

Warnings: reader being kinda stalkerish but not with bad intentions, implied that some of the students have harmless crushes on Kurt, Kurt being a flirt, smut! Because I missed writing it, Oral (fem receiving), PiV, mentions of Kurt's faith, you wife that man up!, pregnancy. Not beta read!

If you liked this check of my masterlist or put in a request if they are open

Golden light trickled in through the curtains as the sun set behind the school. The smell of dragon's blood incense wafted around the room in delicate wisps of smoke. The only sounds were the slight breeze outside and the dragging of bristles across canvas. You sat on the wooden stool, a slight hunch in your back you'd need to correct later with stretches. Your gaze followed along as you drew blue across the canvas. Blue had become a vital part of all your recent works, and you knew exactly why. Whenever you thought of art, flashes of blue fur, a spaded tail, the smell of sulfur, a silver cross, and a mischievous laugh filled your mind. You wouldn't call it obsession or infatuation. He was your muse. Not that he knew. How could you tell your teammate that he gave you such powerful inspiration? So the portfolio filled to the brim with artworks of just him remained hidden away under your bed.

Kurt Wagner. Everyone loved him. He was a friend worth keeping, made everything fun, always had the best ideas to keep the students entertained, and loved to chatter. Even Logan enjoyed his company from time to time. Kurt just had a way with people, with mutants. A few months back, you had a solo mission with him. It was awkward at first—the shy, quiet artist of the school and the impish chatterbox didn't know how to approach one another. In the end, the mission had concluded in giggles and soft-spoken words. Kurt was wonderful. That's why you couldn't understand why he kept insisting on spending time with you of all people. You were reserved, shy, introverted—the exact opposite of Kurt.

You had put the "Do Not Disturb" sign on your door before starting, hoping it would deter visitors. It did. Well, anyone who saw the sign didn't bother you; the same could not be said for the blue fuzzy imp. He didn't see it, to be fair. He had just gotten home from taking some students to the mall for shopping and wanted to show you the paints he had found, so he teleported. The smell of sulfur and the familiar BAMF sound filled your room, making your eyes widen comedically as you stared at the canvas. A painting of Kurt praying in a church with blue stained glass—one he was most certainly not supposed to see.

"Mein Freund, you would not believe the gift I have found for you— ah," his pleasant accent-tinted voice stalled as he gazed at your shape and then the painting before you. His eyes widened and filled with glee. "Oh mein Gott! Is that me? It's... it's—" he struggled to find the English word for a moment before settling on, "herrlich."

You stammered shyly as he walked up behind you, gazing at the painting with a smile that made your insides flutter like a thousand baby butterflies had hatched. "I... erm... yes, it's you, but it's not finished," you spoke hesitantly.

"Not finished?" Kurt moved closer, his tail swaying gently behind him in that way it did when he was truly excited about something. "But it's already so beautiful! The way you captured the light through the windows..." He leaned in, careful not to disturb your workspace, but close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. "I had no idea you were watching me pray."

Your cheeks burned hot. "I... I wasn't. Not really. I just... sometimes I sketch you when you're around the mansion, and I remembered how peaceful you looked that one time I passed by the chapel..." You trailed off, realizing you might be revealing too much.

Kurt's expression softened, and a knowing look crossed his features. "Then perhaps..." he said, reaching down to carefully take the brush from your trembling fingers, "you wouldn't mind showing me the other drawings?" His golden eyes flickered toward your bed, where your portfolio lay hidden.

Your heart nearly stopped. "You knew?"

A gentle laugh escaped him, musical and warm. "Mein Schatz, I may be a fool sometimes, but I'm not blind. I've seen the way you look at me when you think I'm not watching." He paused, his tail curling slightly in what you had learned was nervousness. "The same way I look at you when you're lost in your art."

The confession hung in the air between you, as tangible as the wisps of incense smoke still dancing through the golden evening light. You sat frozen, brush dripping blue paint onto the dropcloth below, as Kurt Wagner—your muse, your teammate, your secret inspiration—waited for your response with bated breath.

"You... look at me?" You whispered in shock and a tinge of disbelief. He looked at you like you looked at him? That sounded impossible, yet the way his tail curled in nervousness and his foot tapped against the ground told a different story.

Kurt's hand came up to rub the back of his neck, a gesture you'd seen countless times when he was trying to find the right words. "Ja, I do. More than I probably should." His voice was softer now, almost vulnerable. "When you're in the garden sketching, or during the art class with the students when you create those beautiful displays... The way your face lights up when you finally perfect a piece you've been working on..." He trailed off, a deeper blue tinting his cheeks.

Your heart thundered in your chest as he took a small step closer, his tail now swaying in a gentle, hypnotic pattern. "I've wanted to tell you for so long, but..." He gestured to himself with a self-deprecating smile. "Well, I wasn't sure someone who creates such beauty would want..."

"Kurt," you interrupted, finding courage you didn't know you had. Standing from your stool, you reached for his hand, feeling the unique texture of his fur against your palm. "You are beauty. Why do you think I can't stop painting you?"

His golden eyes widened, and that brilliant smile you'd captured in countless sketches spread across his face. "Then perhaps," he said, bringing your joined hands up between you, "we've both been a bit foolish, ja?"

A small laugh escaped you, breaking the tension. "More than a bit." Your eyes drifted to the painting on the easel, then back to him. "Would you... would you like to see the others? The real ones, not just the ones I do for art class?"

Kurt's tail perked up, and he squeezed your hand gently. "I would love nothing more, mein Schatz. But first..." He reached into his jacket pocket with his free hand and pulled out a small paper bag. "I really did bring you something from the art store."

Inside was a set of iridescent blue paints that shifted colors in the dying sunlight, almost the exact shade of Kurt's fur when he moved. Your breath caught at the thoughtfulness of the gift, and when you looked up at him, his expression was so tender it made your heart ache.

"I saw them and thought of you," he admitted quietly. "Though I suppose I'm always thinking of you these days."

The confession hung in the air like a prayer, and you found yourself moving closer, drawn into his orbit like you'd always been, only now there was no need to hide it. The golden light that had started this evening's painting session now painted Kurt in warm hues, making him look almost ethereal—your own personal angel, right here in your art-cluttered room.

"Kurt," you whispered, not quite sure what you wanted to say, but knowing you needed to say something. The way he looked at you now, like you were one of his precious religious paintings come to life, made you understand why he'd always insisted on spending time with you. He'd been drawn to you just as you'd been to him, both of you dancing around each other in an elaborate routine of stolen glances and hidden feelings.

His tail curled gently around your wrist, as if he couldn't bear to not touch you in some way, and you realized that maybe this was what inspiration truly felt like—not just the desire to capture beauty, but to be part of it. With trembling hands, you knelt beside your bed, aware of Kurt's presence behind you as you reached underneath to pull out the large black portfolio case. Your heart hammered against your ribs—no one had ever seen these pieces before. They were raw, honest, intimate in a way your public artwork never was.

"I, um," you started, clutching the portfolio to your chest as you stood, "some of these are just quick sketches, and others aren't very good—"

"Liebling," Kurt interrupted gently, his tail swaying with barely contained excitement, "everything you create is wunderbar. May I?" He gestured to your bed, and you nodded, watching as he settled cross-legged on the corner, patting the space beside him.

You sat down carefully, the portfolio balanced on your lap. Kurt's warmth beside you was both comforting and nerve-wracking. Taking a deep breath, you unzipped the case and pulled out the first few pieces.

"Oh!" Kurt's delighted gasp made you jump slightly. His tail curled in pleasure as he leaned forward to study a charcoal drawing of himself perched on the mansion's balcony railing, looking out over the grounds. "I remember this day. It was right after that terrible thunderstorm, ja? When the sun finally came out?"

You nodded, surprised he'd remembered such a small moment. "The light was hitting your fur just right, and I couldn't help but..." you trailed off, embarrassed at admitting how much you'd observed him.

But Kurt was already reaching for the next piece, his golden eyes bright with wonder. "And this one!" It was a series of quick gesture sketches of him during a training session, his body in various poses of acrobatic grace. "You've captured the movement so perfectly. I had no idea you were watching so closely."

Your cheeks burned. "I hope that doesn't sound creepy."

His laugh was warm and genuine. "Nein, not at all. Though it does explain why you always volunteered to help supervise training." His tail brushed against your back playfully, making you squeak in surprise.

As you went through more pieces, your initial nervousness began to fade, replaced by a warm glow at Kurt's genuine enthusiasm for each drawing. He had a comment for every piece—remembering the moments you'd captured, praising your technique, asking questions about your process. His tail never stopped moving, expressing his excitement in a way his controlled expressions couldn't quite hide.

"This one," he breathed, carefully lifting a watercolor painting, "this is..." It was one of your favorites—Kurt in the library late at night, reading by lamplight, his tail curled around a cup of tea. You'd painted it from memory after watching him there one evening, trying to capture the peaceful contentment he radiated in those quiet moments.

"The way you see me," he said softly, tracing the air above the painting as if afraid to touch it, "it's so..."

"Real," you finished quietly. "That's just... how you look to me."

Kurt turned to face you then, and the expression on his face made your breath catch. "All this time," he murmured, "I thought I was alone in feeling this way. In seeing such beauty in someone else."

You ducked your head, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze, but his tail gently curved under your chin, lifting it back up. "No hiding," he said softly. "Not anymore, ja?"

The portfolio slid forgotten to the floor as Kurt's hand came up to cup your cheek, his touch feather-light, as if he still couldn't quite believe he was allowed this. In the fading golden light of your room, surrounded by scattered artwork that told the story of your hidden feelings, Kurt Wagner looked at you like you were the masterpiece—not the artist. Time seemed to slow as Kurt's hand remained gentle against your cheek, his thumb brushing softly across your skin. Your heart was doing acrobatics that could rival his best performances, and you wondered if he could feel how warm your face had become.

"Mein Schatz," he whispered, leaning closer, "may I...?"

You could only manage a tiny nod, and then his lips were on yours, soft and sweet. The kiss was gentle, almost reverent, and you could feel his smile against your mouth. His tail curled around your waist, drawing you closer as your hands tentatively came up to rest against his chest, feeling the soft fabric of his shirt and the steady beating of his heart beneath.

When you finally parted, you immediately buried your burning face in his shoulder, earning a warm chuckle that rumbled through his chest. "Hiding again so soon?" he teased, his accent thicker with emotion.

"Mmph," was all you could manage, which only made him laugh more.

"And here I thought artists were supposed to appreciate beautiful moments," he continued playfully, his tail squeezing your waist. "Perhaps I should pose for another painting? 'The First Kiss' would make a lovely addition to your collection, ja?"

You groaned and swatted his chest weakly. "Kurt!"

"Or maybe a series?" He was clearly enjoying himself now, his voice full of mischief. "We could call it 'The Evolution of Romance' or 'Love in Blue'—"

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your face still flaming. "You're terrible."

His grin was radiant. "Terrible, but yours?" The hope in his voice made your heart flutter.

"Yeah," you whispered, managing a shy smile. "Mine."

"Wunderbar!" He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead. "Though I must ask—do you have any paintings of our future together hidden away as well? Should I be prepared for more surprises?"

"Kurt Wagner!" You tried to sound scandalized, but you couldn't help laughing, especially when he waggled his eyebrows at you.

"What? It's a reasonable question! After all, you've been secretly documenting me for months. For all I know, you've already planned our wedding colors—blue and more blue, I assume?"

You grabbed a nearby pillow and tried to smack him with it, but he teleported across the room with a BAMF, leaving a cloud of sulfur and the echo of his laughter. He reappeared perched on your easel, careful not to disturb your painting, his tail swishing playfully.

"You know," he said, his golden eyes twinkling, "I think I prefer being your muse when I know about it. The poses can be much more interesting this way."

"Oh my god," you mumbled, falling back onto your bed and covering your face with your hands. But you couldn't hide your smile, especially when you felt the familiar displacement of air and suddenly had a warm, fuzzy mutant curled around you, pressing gentle kisses to your temple.

"Don't worry, Liebling," he murmured against your skin, his tail finding your hand and twining with your fingers. "I promise to be the best muse you could ask for. Though..." He paused dramatically, "I do have one condition."

You peeked through your fingers at him. "What's that?"

His smile softened into something so tender it made your chest ache. "That next time you paint me praying in the chapel, you'll be there with me. Some masterpieces are better created together, don't you think?"

This time, when you pulled him down for another kiss, you didn't hide your face afterward. After all, how could you when he was looking at you like that—like you were both the artist and the masterpiece, the muse and the creator, the beginning and end of something beautiful?

Though you did blush furiously when he later insisted on signing all your portraits of him with "Kurt Wagner, Professional Muse and Master of Stealing Artists' Hearts.”

.

.

.

The chatter of students filled the air and the sweet smell of honeysuckle surrounded you and your students. Truth be told, you hadn't even offered to do this job; teaching the art class wasn't something that had ever been on your mind, but Charles had asked you to do so, saying it would be good for the students to have an outlet for their emotions. Though teaching a bunch of mutant teenagers wasn't particularly easy, especially when half of them wanted to be in the danger room training to be X-Men—you probably got more questions about that than actual art.

"Your piece should be about expression. There is no right or wrong, only your feelings about your art," you spoke gently as you walked by the students settled in the grass of the gardens behind the school. A hand rose up and you looked over and nodded at the boy, Damian you believed his name was.

"Excuse me, but how exactly is painting helping us prepare for anything?" You sighed at the boy's question as he got some chastising nudges from some of your more kind students. You got that question about every class.

Before you could answer, a familiar BAMF sound and the scent of sulfur announced Kurt's arrival. He appeared perched on the garden wall, his tail swaying as he grinned at the class. Several students brightened immediately—Kurt had always been a favorite among them.

"Ah, but that is where you are wrong, mein junger Freund," Kurt said, gracefully flipping down to land beside you. His shoulder brushed yours in a subtle show of support that made your heart flutter, even after months of being together. "Art teaches us more than you might think. Strategy, patience, observation..." He winked at you before continuing, "How do you think I learned to move so efficiently in battle? By understanding space, movement, and perception—all things your talented teacher here helped me improve."

A few students giggled, well aware of your relationship with the blue mutant. It had become something of a school legend how you'd been caught with a portfolio full of Kurt drawings. Some of the older students even insisted they'd known all along, claiming they'd seen the way you both looked at each other during training sessions.

"Besides," Kurt continued, picking up one of the spare brushes from your supply kit and twirling it like one of his swords, "did you know that Leonardo da Vinci used his artistic skills to design defense systems? Or that camouflage patterns were created by artists? Even the maps we use for missions were drawn by artists."

Damian sat up straighter, suddenly looking more interested. "Really?"

You smiled, grateful for Kurt's intervention. "Really. And speaking of missions..." You shared a knowing look with Kurt before addressing the class. "Who wants to hear about the time my sketching skills helped us locate a hidden Sentinel facility?"

"Oh, tell them about the warehouse in Berlin!" Kurt added enthusiastically, his tail curling around your waist as he settled beside you. "When you noticed the architectural inconsistencies in my reconnaissance sketches?"

The students were all paying attention now, art supplies temporarily forgotten as they leaned in to hear the story. Even Damian had put down his phone, his previous skepticism replaced with curiosity.

"Well," you began, feeling Kurt's tail squeeze encouragingly, "it started when we noticed some unusual energy signatures in an old industrial district..."

As you recounted the mission, Kurt occasionally chimed in with his own colorful commentary, making the students laugh with his dramatic reenactments. You couldn't help but smile, watching him demonstrate his acrobatic moves while describing how your artistic knowledge had helped spot the hidden entrance.

"And that," Kurt concluded, landing gracefully beside you again, "is why we should never underestimate the power of art. Or artists." He pressed a quick kiss to your temple, making several students coo and others playfully groan at the display of affection.

"Mr. Wagner," one of the girls called out, a mischievous glint in her eye, "are you going to model for our class like you do for the teacher?"

Your face immediately heated up as Kurt laughed delightedly. "Sadly, I'm needed in the danger room. Though..." He grinned at you, that familiar impish look in his golden eyes, "I do have a private session scheduled later."

"Kurt!" you hissed, mortified as the students erupted in giggles.

He merely winked, pressed another quick kiss to your cheek, and teleported away with a theatrical bow, leaving you to face your amused students with burning cheeks.

"Now then," you said, trying to regain some semblance of professional dignity despite your flushed face, "back to your projects. And no, Jenny, you cannot paint Mr. Wagner for your assignment—pick a different subject."

The disappointment on several faces told you that more than one student had been planning exactly that. You couldn't really blame them though. After all, you had an entire portfolio that proved just how inspiring a subject Kurt Wagner could be. After the lingering giggles from Kurt's dramatic exit finally subsided, you circled back through your students, the grass crunching softly beneath your feet. The afternoon sun warmed your shoulders as you paused to observe their work, offering gentle guidance where needed.

"Sarah," you said, stopping beside a girl whose hands were literally glowing as she painted, her mutation allowing her to create luminescent colors, "that's beautiful. The way you're using your powers to add depth to the sunset—very creative." Her beaming smile made your heart warm; it was moments like these that reminded you why Charles had been right about teaching.

Moving on, you found Marcus struggling with his brushstrokes, his extra set of arms getting in the way of each other. "Try coordinating them like we practiced," you suggested softly. "Remember, each hand can work on a different section. Think of it like... like when Kurt coordinates his tail with his movements during training."

The mention of Kurt made a few nearby students glance up with knowing smirks, but you ignored them, focusing on how Marcus's face lit up with understanding. Within minutes, all four of his hands were working in harmony, creating an intricate pattern that would have taken others four times as long to complete.

"Teacher?" A quiet voice drew your attention to Amy, a shy freshman whose scales tended to change color with her emotions—currently a nervous purple. "I... I don't know if this is good enough." She gestured to her canvas where she'd painted a self-portrait, her scales rendered in beautiful iridescent shades.

You knelt beside her, careful not to disturb her workspace. "What makes you think it's not good enough?"

"It's just..." she glanced around at her classmates' work, her scales shifting to a deeper purple. "Everyone else is painting normal things. Beautiful things. I painted... me."

"Amy," you said gently, thinking of all the times you'd doubted your own artwork, of all the paintings of Kurt you'd hidden away because you thought they were too revealing, too personal. "Do you remember what Kurt said in his last ethics class about beauty?"

Her scales flickered with hints of pink—she had a bit of a crush on Kurt, like half the school. "That it comes in all forms?"

"Exactly. And look—" you pointed to how the light caught her painting's scales, creating rainbow patterns across the canvas. "You've captured something uniquely beautiful. Something only you could create, because only you know exactly how those scales feel, how they shift and change. That's not just good art, that's powerful art."

The purple of her scales gradually shifted to a warm golden hue as she smiled, looking at her painting with new eyes. Around you, other students had paused to listen, and you saw several of them return to their work with renewed purpose.

"Damian," you called out, noticing he'd actually started painting instead of just complaining, "excellent use of perspective on that building. Been practicing your architectural sketches?"

He tried to look nonchalant, but you caught his pleased grin. "Yeah, well... after what you said about the Berlin mission... I figured it might be useful. You know, for future X-Men stuff."

"Hey, teacher?" Jenny piped up, paint smudged adorably across her cheek. "Since we can't paint Mr. Wagner, could you tell us more about how art helped on missions while we work? Please?"

A chorus of agreements rose from the class, and you couldn't help but smile. "Alright, but keep painting. There was this one time in Moscow when my knowledge of color theory helped us identify a shapeshifter..."

As you shared the story, moving between easels and offering guidance, you noticed how the students' work seemed to come alive. Even the most reluctant artists were engaged now, their creativity flowing as they listened to tales of how art and heroism could intertwine.

The smell of honeysuckle grew stronger as the afternoon wore on, mixing with paint and teenage enthusiasm. A flash of blue in your peripheral vision caught your attention—Kurt, watching proudly from a nearby window between his training sessions. He blew you a kiss before disappearing again, leaving you with paint-stained fingers and a garden full of budding artists who were finally beginning to understand that there was more than one way to be extraordinary.

"Teacher?" Amy called out, her scales now a confident shade of blue that reminded you of someone special. "I think I'd like to do another self-portrait. Maybe... maybe one of me in an X-Men uniform this time?"

You smiled, thinking of your own portfolio of Kurt, of how art had led you to love, and how that love had led you here, helping these young mutants find their own way to express their unique beauty. "I think that's a wonderful idea, Amy. Just remember—"

"We know, we know," the class chorused together, matching your grin, "there is no right or wrong, only our feelings about our art!”

.

.

.

Evening had settled over the mansion, the last rays of sunlight painting your studio in familiar golden hues. The day's classes were done, art supplies cleaned and stored away, and you'd finally managed to stop blushing from Kurt's teasing comments during your lesson. You were just setting up your easel when the familiar BAMF announced his arrival.

"Ah, mein Schatz," Kurt's voice was warm as he appeared behind you, arms wrapping around your waist and tail curling affectionately around your ankle. "Ready for our 'private session'?" You could hear the playful smirk in his voice.

"You," you turned in his arms to poke his chest accusingly, "are terrible. Do you know how many knowing looks I got from the students after you left?"

He laughed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I couldn't help myself. You're adorable when you blush. Speaking of which..." His tail reached over to your desk, picking up your sketchbook and flipping it open to reveal today's quick sketches of him during his brief visit to your class. "Someone was inspired during their teaching duties, ja?"

"Kurt!" You tried to snatch the sketchbook, but he teleported across the room, perching on the window seat as he continued flipping through pages.

"Oh, this one is new!" He held up a sketch of himself demonstrating acrobatic moves to your students. "You captured my best side."

"All your sides are your best side," you mumbled before you could stop yourself, then immediately covered your face with your hands as he teleported back to you, gathering you close.

"Is that so?" he murmured against your ear. "Then perhaps we should make sure you have proper reference material for all of them?" His tail gently pulled your hands away from your face, forcing you to meet his tender gaze. "Now then, how would you like me to pose, Liebling?"

You gestured weakly to the arrangement you'd set up—a comfortable chair positioned near the window, where the last of the sunset would cast those perfect shadows you loved to capture. "Just... sitting would be nice. Natural. Like when you're reading in the library."

Kurt's expression softened as he settled into the chair, understanding your desire to capture one of your favorite quiet moments. He pulled out a small book of poetry—Rilke, you noticed—and arranged himself comfortably, his tail draped over the armrest.

"Like this?" he asked, and you nodded, already reaching for your charcoal. This was familiar territory now, though no less special than those first secret sketches. If anything, it was more intimate—knowing he was here specifically for you, watching you create, sharing these peaceful moments together.

As you began to sketch, Kurt started reading aloud softly in German, his accent wrapping around the words like silk. You'd grown to love these evenings, the gentle cadence of his voice mixing with the scratch of charcoal on paper, the way his tail would occasionally twitch in response to a particular phrase or stanza.

"You know," he said during a pause between poems, his golden eyes meeting yours over the top of his book, "I used to wonder why you chose me as your subject so often. Now I think I understand."

You paused in your sketching, curious. "Oh?"

"Ja. It's the same reason I can't stop watching you when you create." He marked his place in the book and leaned forward slightly. "There's something magical about seeing someone doing what they love, being exactly who they are meant to be. You see me that way when I move, when I pray, when I simply exist. And I see you that way when you're lost in your art."

The charcoal trembled slightly in your fingers as he continued, "It's like seeing someone's soul, isn't it? Their truest self?"

You nodded, unable to find words for how perfectly he'd captured it. Kurt rose from the chair in one fluid movement, crossing to where you stood. His hand covered yours on the charcoal, bringing it to rest against the easel.

"Perhaps," he whispered, turning you to face him, his tail wrapping around your waist, "we could find other ways to capture this moment?"

Your breath caught as he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that tasted of poetry and promises. The charcoal slipped forgotten from your fingers as you wound your arms around his neck, letting yourself get lost in the overwhelming rightness of being held by him.

When you finally parted, Kurt rested his forehead against yours, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Though I do hope you'll finish the sketch later. I have a reputation as Professional Muse to maintain, after all."

You laughed, the sound mixing with his own quiet chuckle in the golden evening light of your studio, where art and love had become beautifully, perfectly intertwined.

"So how do you wish to capture this moment, hm?" You hummed up at him with a new sense of courage.

Kurt's yellow eyes sparkle with mischief and desire as he gazes down at you, his tail gently squeezing your waist. The sunset light casts a warm glow on your skin, highlighting the delicate curve of your neck and the soft fullness of your lips. He leans in, his breath ghosting over your skin as he speaks.

"There are so many ways, mein Schatz..." he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "We could start with a kiss..."

And he does, capturing your lips in a deep, lingering kiss that steals the breath from your lungs. His lips are surprisingly soft against yours, moving with a passion and tenderness that sets your heart racing. One hand tangles in your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, while the other slides down your back, pressing you closer to him.

When he finally pulls away, you're both breathing heavily, your cheeks flushed and your eyes dark with desire. Kurt's tail tightens around you, keeping you anchored against him as he trails his lips along your jaw, nipping lightly at your earlobe.

"Or perhaps," he whispers, his voice sending shivers down your spine, "you'd like to capture the way my hands feel on your skin?"

Without waiting for an answer, he begins to unbutton your shirt, his fingers brushing against your bare skin as he reveals more and more of your body to his hungry gaze. Each touch sends sparks of electricity through you, igniting a fire that only seems to grow with each passing second.

As your shirt falls to the floor, Kurt takes a step back, his eyes roving hungrily over your newly exposed skin. His gaze is almost reverent, as if he's drinking in every inch of you like a man dying of thirst.

"Beautiful," he breathes, his voice filled with awe and desire. "You're absolutely perfect, Meine Liebe."

His hands come up to cup your breasts, thick fingers brushing over your hardening nipples through the thin fabric of your bra. You arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips as he begins to circle and tease, building the pleasure slowly but surely. Kurt's hands continue their sensual exploration of your body, tracing every curve and dip with a reverence that makes your skin tingle. He leans down to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, his tongue darting out to taste the salt of your skin.

"I want to worship every inch of you," he murmurs against your throat, his voice rough with desire. "To show you how much you mean to me."

His fingers find the clasp of your bra, deftly unhooking it and sliding the straps down your shoulders. The garment falls away, baring your breasts to his eager gaze. Kurt pauses for a moment, simply drinking in the sight of you, before cupping the weight of your breasts in his palms.

"Perfektion," he breathes, thumbing your nipples until they pebble beneath his touch. He lowers his head, taking one nipple into his mouth and suckling gently, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.

You gasp at the sensation, your hands coming up to tangle in his hair, holding him close. Kurt continues his ministrations, alternating between your breasts, licking and sucking and nipping until you're writhing against him, desperate for more.

His hands drift lower, skimming over your stomach and hips before dipping beneath the waistband of your pants. He strokes you through the damp fabric of your underwear, his touch light and teasing.

"So wet already," he marvels, his voice thick with arousal. "You're so responsive, mein Schatz. So perfect."

He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your pants and underwear, tugging them down your legs in one smooth motion. You kick them off impatiently, standing before him in nothing but your socks and shoes.

Kurt takes a step back, his eyes raking over your naked form with undisguised hunger. He licks his lips, his tail swishing behind him in anticipation.

"Lie down on the couch," he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument. "I want to taste you." You obey without hesitation, settling into the plush cushions immediately.

 Kurt follows you to the couch, his eyes never leaving your body as he crawls over you, settling between your spread thighs. He runs his hands up your legs, his touch light and teasing, until he reaches the apex of your thighs.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, spreading your folds with his fingers and exposing your glistening flesh to his hungry gaze. "I can't wait to taste you."

He leans down, dragging his tongue along your slit in one long, slow lick. The sensation is electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body. You gasp, your hips lifting off the couch as you seek more of his touch.

Kurt chuckles, the sound vibrating against your sensitive skin. He looks up at you through his lashes, his yellow eyes gleaming with mischief and desire.

"Patience, mein Schatz," he teases, blowing a cool stream of air over your wet heat. "We have all the time in the world."

And then he's diving back in, his tongue delving deep into your core, lapping at your essence like a man starved. He circles your clit with the tip of his tongue, flicking over the sensitive bud again and again until you're writhing beneath him, desperate for release.

His hands grip your thighs, holding you steady as he feasts on your flesh, his groans of pleasure muffled against your skin. The room fills with the obscene sounds of his licking and sucking, punctuated by your own breathy moans and gasps.

Kurt brings a hand up to your clit, rubbing tight circles around the swollen nub as he continues to tongue-fuck your dripping cunt. The dual stimulation is too much, pushing you closer and closer to the edge with each passing second.

"That's it, Kleine," he encourages, his voice rough with arousal. "Let go. Come for me."

His words are all it takes to send you hurtling over the edge, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. You cry out, your hands fisting in Kurt's hair as waves of pleasure crash over you, threatening to drown you in their intensity.

Kurt works you through it, his tongue and fingers never faltering as he prolongs your climax, drawing out every last shudder and gasp until you're boneless and spent, collapsing back against the couch in a sweaty, satisfied heap.

He presses one last kiss to your sensitive flesh before crawling up your body, settling his weight on top of you. His erection presses insistently against your thigh as he wiggles off his pants, hot and hard and ready for you.*

"I need you, meine Engel," he breathes, his voice thick with desire. "I need to be inside you."

He reaches down between your bodies, grasping his cock and lining it up with your entrance. You can feel the heat of him, the pulsing need that throbs against your slick folds.

With one swift thrust, he's inside you, filling you completely. You cry out at the sudden stretch, your walls clenching around him like a vice.

"Fuck, you're tight," Kurt groans, his hips rocking against yours as he begins to move. "So perfect. So gut."

He sets a steady rhythm, pulling out slowly before slamming back in, his cock hitting depths you didn't even know you had. Each thrust sends sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine, igniting a fire in your core that threatens to consume you whole. Your heart flutters hearing him slur out German and English in a pleasure drunken haze. Kurt's tail wraps around your legs, holding them open wide as he pistons into you, his hips snapping against yours with increasing urgency. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by your shared moans and gasps.

"So good," he pants, his face buried in your neck as he laves his tongue over your pulse point. "So perfekt. So mine."

His words send a shiver down your spine, igniting a possessive heat in your core. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into your body with each thrust.

"Yours," you gasp, your nails digging into the fur of his back. "All yours, kurt"

Kurt growls, low and deep, his tail tightening around your legs as he pounds into you with abandon. The couch creaks beneath your combined weight, threatening to give way under the force of his thrusts.

"Ich liebe dich," he slurs, his words muffled against your skin. "Love you so much. Need you. Need to be inside you forever."

His confession sends you careening over the edge, your body seizing up as another orgasm rips through you. You clench around him, your walls fluttering and spasming as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you.

"Fuck, Prinzessin," Kurt groans, his hips stuttering as he chases his own release. "Feel so good. So perfect. Gonna come. Gonna fill you up."

With a final, bruising thrust, he buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he empties himself into your waiting womb. You can feel the heat of his seed, the way it paints your insides, marking you as his.

He collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the cushions as he pants against your neck. His tail unwinds from your legs, draping lazily over your thigh as he nuzzles into your hair.

"I love you," he murmurs, his voice soft and sated. "My perfect girl. Meine schöne Künstlerin."

You smile, your heart full to bursting with love and contentment.

.

.

.

Nearly a year later

The chapel was quiet save for the soft whisper of your pencil across paper. Early morning light filtered through the stained glass windows, casting familiar blue patterns across the wooden pews. Kurt knelt at the altar in prayer, his tail curved peacefully behind him, rosary beads wrapped gently around his three-fingered hands.

You'd grown comfortable here in these morning moments, sharing this sacred space with him. What had once felt like an intrusion now felt like belonging. Your sketchbook was filled with these quiet scenes—Kurt in prayer, Kurt reading his Bible, Kurt simply existing in this place that meant so much to him. But this morning was different. This morning, your hand trembled slightly as you drew, your mind wandering to the small box hidden in your art supplies.

It had taken weeks to create, working late into the night in your studio after Kurt had fallen asleep. A hand-carved wooden ring box, painted with delicate scenes from your relationship—the first time you'd been caught painting him, your first kiss, teaching art class together, quiet moments in the chapel. The ring inside was simple silver, engraved with tiny crosses and artist's brushes intertwined.

"You're thinking very loudly this morning, Liebling," Kurt's voice startled you from your thoughts. He hadn't moved from his position, but his tail swayed knowingly.

"Sorry," you mumbled, adding another shadow to your sketch. "Didn't mean to disturb your prayers."

"You never disturb me," he said softly, finally turning to face you with that gentle smile that still made your heart skip. "Though I am curious what has you so distracted. Usually you're much more focused when drawing in here."

You set down your sketchbook with trembling fingers. "Actually, I... I have something for you."

Kurt's eyebrows rose curiously as you reached into your art bag, pulling out the painted box. His golden eyes widened as you stood and walked to him, kneeling beside him at the altar.

"Kurt Wagner," you began, your voice shaky but determined, "you've been my muse, my inspiration, my best friend, and the love of my life. You've shown me that beauty exists in so many forms, that faith can be found in art just as much as prayer, and that love..." you had to pause, swallowing hard as his tail curled around your wrist encouragingly, "love can be both the masterpiece and the creation itself."

You opened the box, revealing the ring nestled inside. "Would you let me spend the rest of my life creating with you?"

Kurt's breath caught as he took in the painted scenes on the box, his fingers trailing reverently over the tiny details you'd spent so long perfecting. When he looked up, his eyes were shining with tears.

"Mein Gott," he whispered, "you've managed to surprise the teleporter." His tail tightened around your wrist as he pulled you closer, pressing his forehead to yours. "Did you really think there could be any answer but yes? You are the greatest masterpiece God has ever placed in my life."

Your laugh was watery as you slipped the ring onto his finger, a perfect fit just as you'd hoped. Kurt cradled your face in his hands, his touch infinitely gentle.

"Though I must say," he murmured, his accent thick with emotion, "you've rather stolen my thunder, Liebling." With his tail, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, making you gasp. "I was planning to ask you after morning mass."

Inside was a delicate gold ring with a blue sapphire that matched his fur perfectly. "Great minds think alike, ja?"

You couldn't speak through your tears as he slipped the ring onto your finger, but you didn't need to. The way you pulled him into a kiss said everything necessary, the morning light painting you both in shades of blue and gold through the stained glass windows.

"I can't wait to see how you'll paint this moment," Kurt whispered against your lips, making you laugh.

"Already planning it," you admitted. "Though I might need my muse to pose for several reference sketches."

His tail wrapped around your waist as he grinned. "I believe that can be arranged. After all..." he pressed another soft kiss to your lips, "we have the rest of our lives to perfect it."

Through the chapel windows, the morning light continued to paint you both in blues and golds, artist and muse, two hearts creating something beautiful together. And if anyone noticed that your afternoon art class was especially romantic that day, well... they were kind enough not to mention it. Though you did have to tell Jenny, once again, that no, she still couldn't paint Mr. Wagner for her assignment—even if he was now your fiancé.

.

.

.

You woke up to soft snores and looked over, unable to help but smile softly. Your husband's sleeping face was too cute to not smile at. After five years of being married, you'd never grow tired of waking up to this. Recently he had taken to growing out a goatee, saying it made him look more mature (you couldn't help but agree—after all, it made your mind wander a lot too). You carefully pulled out of his embrace without waking him; his tail was always a struggle to remove from its place around your leg without waking him, but you managed it. After a small silent dance of triumph, you moved out of your shared bedroom to the room across from it.

The room was halfway painted, though you had been working on it for the past six months. It had paintings of stories and family littered across it—scenes from Kurt's favorite fairy tales, the X-Men as loving aunts and uncles, even a small portrait of Professor Xavier smiling benevolently from above the planned crib space. You picked up a brush and were about to continue when you accidentally kicked a paint bucket. That's all it took, and with a sudden puff of smoke your husband had teleported in, his stance ready for action but relaxing when he saw it was just you up early.

"Mein Gott, woman, I thought you were a thief!" He exclaimed, holding his three-fingered hand over his chest before walking over with a soft tired smile and pecking your lips. "You're up early, I don't even hear the morning birds yet."

"Needed to stretch my legs," you hummed back, and he hummed softly in suspicion. His hand rested on your stomach.

"Are you sure it is not because of the Kleine?" He spoke in a teasing voice as he gently rubbed your stomach.

You leaned back against his chest, letting his warmth seep into you as you both gazed at the wall you'd been painting. His tail automatically wrapped around your waist, just above where your small baby bump was beginning to show. "Maybe," you admitted. "I just... I want it to be perfect before they arrive."

Kurt nuzzled against your neck, his goatee tickling your skin. "Liebling, with you as their mother, how could it be anything but perfect?" His hand joined yours on the brush. "Though perhaps we could add a few more acrobatic scenes? A future X-Man should know their father's best moves, ja?"

You laughed softly, mindful of the early hour. "Kurt, we don't even know if they'll be able to teleport yet."

"Ah, but they're already showing artistic talent!" He moved to stand beside you, gesturing dramatically at your stomach. "Look how perfectly they've rounded out your usually straight lines!"

"Did you just call me fat, Mr. Wagner?" you asked with mock offense.

His eyes widened comically. "Nein! Never! I merely meant to say you're more... sculptural these days?" His tail flicked nervously as he tried to backtrack, making you giggle.

"Saved it," you murmured, turning back to the wall. You'd been working on a particular scene—a small blue figure learning to teleport while protective arms waited to catch them. "Do you really think they'll like it? All of this?"

Kurt's arms wrapped around you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder as he surveyed your work. "Mein Schatz, they will love it. Just as they will love you." His hand splayed protectively over your stomach. "Though perhaps we should add a small easel next to the training equipment? Best to be prepared for all possibilities."

You turned in his arms, brush still in hand, accidentally leaving a small blue streak across his chest. "Oops."

His grin turned mischievous. "Oh? Is that how we're playing this morning?" He reached for another brush. "You know, the wall isn't the only canvas in need of some color..."

"Kurt Wagner, don't you dare—" But it was too late. With a playful BAMF, he was behind you, painting a gentle heart on the back of your nightshirt.

What followed was a careful (mindful of your condition) but enthusiastic paint war, filling the nursery with quiet laughter and colorful streaks. By the time the sun began to rise, you were both covered in paint, sitting on the drop cloth and admiring your handiwork—both on the walls and each other.

"You know," Kurt mused, his tail drawing abstract patterns in a small paint puddle, "this might be your best work yet."

You looked around at the cheerful chaos you'd created together—the story-filled walls, the paint-splattered drop cloths, the mixing of your artistic vision with his playful additions. Your hand found his, fingers intertwining as they rested on your growing bump.

"No," you said softly, "I think our best work is still in progress."

His answering smile was brighter than the rising sun, and as he pulled you in for a paint-smudged kiss, you couldn't help but think that sometimes the most beautiful art came from life itself—messy, unexpected, and absolutely perfect.

Though you did make him clean up the paint footprints he'd teleported all over the mansion before the students woke up. Your gaze went over to the window which Kurt had helped you place the stain on. The blue hues glittered over the room and it filled you with a sense of love and happiness. Blue would always be apart of your life now, and you wouldn't have it any other way. 

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Hey, neighbor

Masterlist

Pairing: Jason Todd x (f) Reader

Tags: mystery, eventual smut, pwp, incorrect science (im so sorry to women in S.T.EM.), morally ambiguous Jason Todd, neighbors, nerdy reader, smoking

Chapter 1: Jason is assigned to investigate the cute grad student in the apartment below his.

Jason sat by the open window of his kitchen, two guns disassembled before him on a worn-out cloth, the room filled with the scent of oil and cigarette smoke. His shirt was long discarded on the chair beside the one on which he sat as the unreliable apartment AC sputtered and groaned, a constant reminder of the summer heat.

His fingers moved deftly to reassemble the weapon. ACDC blasting from his phone on the windowsill, the music helping him focus amidst the noise of the neighborhood. But the sounds of laughter and the thud of a soccer ball periodically interrupted his concentration. Some kids were playing a game on the street.

As he glanced at the game, a familiar figure caught his attention. The girl from 1B, the apartment below his, made her way up the street up to their building.

He took a drag from his cigarette and watched as you chatted away on the phone, oblivious to the looks you got in your preppy skirt and tucked in V that accentuated your figure and proudly showed your cleavage. Barbara may have given him a boring assignment, but you sure looked a whole lot of fun. At the very least, he could enjoy the view on his investigation.

"Yeah, it's a nightmare," he heard you complain to your phone when you were just at the entrance door to the building. "The subway's been shut down every day this week... I keep having to walk all the way home from the research center in thirty degree weather. Oh well, at least I'm getting my steps in."

Two of the kids abandoned the game and ran up to you before you could unlock the front door. Jason could hear as they bombarded you with questions about your experiments. You told the person on your call that youll text them before you hung up.

Then, you enthusiastically began explaining your work to the kids in an animated manner, mentioning elements and scientific terms, talking about chemical reactions as if you were narrating a bedtime story. The kids listened with rapt attention, nodding as if they understood every word.

Jason couldn't help but chuckle to himself, finding it amusing how you were explaining complex concepts to children, and they hung on to every word. The kids inquired eagerly if you had any samples for them.

You reached into your bag, extracted a vial, read the label, and then froze, right before hiding it out of the view of the kids.

Jason let out a puff of smoke and narrowed his eyes. That wasn't a usual reaction to a harmless substance.

You recovered quickly, informing the kids that the vial in your hand wasn't the "good" one. After a moment of rummaging through your container, you took out another vial, read the label, and then handed it to the kids, who cheered with delight.

"What does it do?" one of them asked.

"Pour some salt into it and see. Not too much though, a pinch is good." You winked.

"Awesome!" The second kid exclaimed.

You beamed at their enthusiasm. Jason found himself grinning, momentarily forgetting about his gun. But his amusement quickly died as he caught a glimpse of the symbol on the vial you clutched in your hand. Poison Ivy. Barbara's intel was right.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Exhausted from his patrol, Jason parked his motorcycle and climbed off, the engine's growl fading out. As he approached your building steps, his keen senses caught a low whisper drifting from the porch. You sat with your neighbor Melody, engaged in a hushed conversation. You often sat with her on the porch on the days when her husband worked the late shift. The two of you sipping wine from coffee cups in a fun tradition.

Jason's footsteps barely made a sound as he climbed up the steps, overhearing Melody’s animated voice praising his handsome features and enigmatic aura. You reciprocated, painting a vivid picture of his muscles, tattoos, and piercings. A grin tugged at the corner of Jason's pierced lips as he absorbed the words, silently revelling in the compliments.

He cleared his throat once he reached the steps you two were sat on.

Melody’s eyes twinkled mischievously as she quipped, "You're out past your bedtime, hun." She extended her cigarette to him.

He eyed it and then accepted. Tossing the stick in his mouth, before lowering himself towards her held up lighter, he gave her a glazing look, his blue eyes burning in the setting sun as he inhaled from the stick, then he stood back up and leaned against the railing.

As the smoke curled in the air, Jason turned his attention to you. “How's school going?”

You realized you'd been staring. Blinking and trying to recall his question, you felt as though it was off hearing his voice. Jason was nice enough, you guessed, if a bit of a tease at times, but he'd mostly kept to himself. At least, that was your perception of him since he moved into your run-down building on the outskirts of gotham a month ago. "... uhh pretty good. Thanks for asking.”

"Shame about those subway closures, though, huh.” He offered a charming grin when he tilted his head.

"Oh, tell me about it." You rolled your eyes at the reminder. "This city... i swear. Do the closures cause you much trouble?”

He shook his head and gestured to his bike. "Nah, got my bike to help with that shit."

You followed his gaze to the impressive vehicle leaning against the wall. "Cool," you said out loud without meaning to.

"Let me know if you ever need a ride."

That caught your attention, making you turn back to him. The thought of riding on his bike had your heart fluttering, and you caught your friend's gaze beside you as you bit your lip, turning back to Jason, whose brooding gaze zeroed in on your mouth. You tried not to let it distract you. "How about tomorrow? I got to present my thesis at 8 am. Can't be late, and it would help a ton."

Melody stood up. “Well I should go, you two have fun.” She winked at you over her shoulder.

You made a move to leave as well, but Jason's hand on yours halted you. His grip was firm as he leaned in, his tone low. "Meet me here tomorrow at seve forty five." he asked, his hooded eyes gazing into yours.

Your pulse quickened at his closeness, and his voice in your ear sent goosebumps along your skin.

You finally found your voice again. "T- the commute is usually around forty minutes." Refering to his propositioned meeting time.

The corner of his lips twitched, and his tongue brushed against his sharp canine. "You've never ridden a bike before, have you?"

Your cheeks turned red. "No."

"Tomorrow, I'll show you what real speed is."

You looked up at him and swallowed. The words sounding both threatening and exciting. "Okay,"

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

He was right about speed. As you held on to Jason, you felt the hum of the engine as he excelarated on the road, passing vehicles on his way. You were scared at first, breathing quickly under your helmet. You were pretty sure you gripped creases onto his jacket. But then that fear gave way to excitement.

Not only were you going one fifty within city limits, but you were doing so while sitting right behind Jason. He steered with such nonchalance, the smell of his ocean cologne invading your senses as his large frame steered in front of you. His confidence was so hot, you had to adjust yourself on the seat a couple times, regretting your decision to wear your checkered skirt as the only thing standing between the vibrating seat and your pussy were your thin panties.

You've finally reached the center, and he parked his bike, getting off first as you sat back, propping yourself by holding the seat behind you. He then reached for you, hads grabbing your waist, and lifted you with ease before placing you on the ground.

"Come on," he removed his helmet, revealing the perfectly messy hair and chiseled face under it. He removed yours next, slightly brushing your hair with his hands as well. "I'll walk you in."

When you scamned your card at the door, he put his hand on your hip, steering you inside, his fingers brushing you on the spot gently.

"Nice place," he commented pursing his lips in an impressed expression when you two were inside. Students and fsfukty were rushing around you, occasionally a curious eye looked Jason up and down. "Is that were you work? He gentured towards a large door at the end of the hall.

"No, im on the fourth floor." You explained.

"Hmm,"

"Thanks so much, Jason." You grinned at him once you were inside. "I owe you one."

He shook his head. "I'll think of a way you could make it up to me."

You swallowed as your mind filled with images of you doing just that. Mostly on your knees. You shook your head. "Well, I should go." You tightened your hold on the straps of your bag.

He winked at you. "Knock 'em dead."

You couldn't help the involuntary giggle. "I'll do my best."

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Jason pulled up to the research center at midnight. He scanned your card against the sensor, and the entrance door let out a beep, letting him pull it and enter with ease.

He passed by the few working students and faculty and casually strode up to the fourth floor, checking every door to find the one he was looking for. The one belonging to you.

When he finally landed on the correct door and walked in, he heard his phone ring and tapped on his headphones to pick up as he studied your work desk.

"So, Jay," Roy Harper spoke in his ear, "About time we hit the streets again."

Standing amidst the small and tidy space of your desk, Jason surveyed the room, noting the orderliness that seemed to mirror the girl who inhabited it. His gaze roamed over lab tools and equipment, finally settling on the vial that he recognized from the other day. Memories of the haunted expression you held when you accidentally almost gave it to the neighborhood kids resurfaced.

Jason held up the vial to study its content and confirm his suspicions about the label. "Miss me already, Harper?"

As Roy went on, Jason recalled the articles and social media profiles that appeared on the screen when he looked you up. You were from the suburbs. Your parents were serving time for robberies in their county jail.

Framed pictures adorned your desk, capturing moments with friends and colleagues. Amidst the cheerful snapshots, there were no family pictures. Though that wasn't uncommon in offices. He continued his exploration, venturing into your desk cupboards, where medals, certificates, and awards adorned - accomplishments in science.

“What a smart girl," he cooed to himself, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

Roy's voice interrupted his thoughts, snapping him back to the present. "Jason, are you even listening?"

Jason blinked, refocusing on the call. "Yeah, yeah, I'm here."

Roy chuckled. "You're doing it again, aren't you?” He sighed. “You, with your detective shit. I swear to god..."

Jason grinned sheepishly. His gaze fell upon a particular photo. You stood beside an older woman, likely your professor, holding an award. The picture looked recent, raising questions that echoed in his mind. He'd have to start with her.

Roy groaned, but there was no real irritation in his voice. "Listen, I'm sending you a rendezvous point in the city. Meet me there in an hour?"

Jason nodded, his phone pinging and the screen brightening with the address. He took out his phone and snapped a picture of you with your professor. "I'll be there."

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

In the dimly lit study of Wayne Manor, Jason handed the vial over to Bruce Wayne, who examined it with a furrowed brow.

"Babs' intel was right," Jason crossed his arms. Dick Grayson stood nearby, his arms crossed, curiosity etched on his face.

Bruce scanned the vial, his fingers deftly manipulating it. "That's not Ivy's toxin. It looks similar, but not viscos enough. I need to bring this to the lab," he concluded and held the glass container out to Dick.

"Hurry, I'll need to return it before she comes back tomorrow." Jason informed.

Dick handed the vial back to Bruce and turned his attention to Jason, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "So, Jay, did she use the pheromones on you?" he quipped, his tone teasing.

Jason arched an eyebrow, a cocky smile playing on his lips. "She's more your style, Grayson. Im not into nerdys,"

Dick chuckled, holding up the vial. "The nerdy ones end up being the most fun!" he retorted, insinuating a connection between you and Poison Ivy.

Bruce handed the vial to Alfred to analyze in the lab and redirected their attention to the matter at hand. "Focus," he interjected, his tone firm. "We need to find out Ivy's whereabouts and her potential connection to this girl. I'll go to arkam tonight. You, too, are on patrol. Jason, keep an eye on her."

Jason mock saluted his adoptive father. "Yes, sir,"

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Once the lab analysis came in and the vial had been returned to your work desk, Dick and Jason were back in Jason's apartment; each nursing a beer even though it was only noon.

Dick scrolled on his laptop, typing away at locations for possible patrol when he snapped the computer shut. "Alright, come on. Old man’s not here, you can tell me, are you more interested in this job. Or this girl?" He raised a brow.

Jason knew you had been home early today after checking out the schedule pinned on your wall yesterday. He also knew that your window was open and it was below his, and he could definitely hear your humming while you did some task.

"Who? y/n?" He said a little louder than necessary. He noticed the humming had stopped. Dick noticed it too, raising his brow at his adopted brother.

Feeling a bit bold, he sat up and turned towards his brother. "She's a cute girl. Likes to wear neat button-up shirts, neatly tucked into her preppy little skirts when she goes to study."

He strained to hear you. You weren't making a sound. "And when she walks home in the heat, the sweat makes her clothes stick onto her body..."

"Oh yeah?" Dick asked, catching on to what Jason was doing as he eyed the window.

"Ill admit, dude, she has a nice fucking body." Jason groaned on purpose.

"What else is nice about her?"

"Well, she always comes back from the library with some cheap, dumb looking romance novels so that she could fantasize when she's alone, and she thinks nobody can hear -"

An object fell from somewhwere beneath the open window, followed by a feminine gasp.

Dick grined. "That's very nice... go on"

Jason shrugged, feeling as though he had his fun. He strained his ears to pick up any more noise or reactions from your window. When he didn't, he shrugged it off, turning back to his brother and speaking in his inside voice. "Well... she's a good kid. She plays it kinda safe. Not really my type, I guess."

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

That evening, Jason was going up the stairs to his apartment, about to change for patrol. He heard clicks coming from the second floor and turned his head to see who it was. He nearly froze on the spot when he saw you make your way to the steps.

You were in high heel leather stilettos, which made you almost come up to his nose, though you were on the highest step, and he was one below. A short red velvet dress sat on your dancer physique, with long sleeves and a dip in the front that showed off your choker of the same color. Your hair was up in a ponytail, with small curls falling down each side to frame your face. You wore red lipstick, glossed over, and made you look so kissable. Jason realised he must have been staring. He cleared his throat. "Nice dress."

You rolled your eyes. "Can you please move?"

"Are you mad at me?" He didn't get out of the way, though.

"No," you shrugged, remembering his words earlier today. "Plays is too safe." "Not my type," whatever. Like you cares what he thought of you. You did, though.

"Oh yeah? Well, where are you going dressed like that?" He pressed.

"Somewhere fun.” You snapped at him. “Get out of my way, Jason." You shoved past him.

He smirked to himself, deciding his evening was all booked up. Because there was no way he was going to let you put yourself in danger on the way to fun just to spite him for his dumb big mouth.

[tales-from-elysivm]

Jinx x f!reader and their first kiss, date, time, fight, all that couple stuff short little pieces of girlies being cute

★。／ get jinxed ＼。★

pairing: jinx x f!reader

fandom: arcane

word count: 1,612

tw: canon typical swearing/slang, some light spoiler warnings, and some suggestive/NSFW content! MDNI!

notes: this is a fic i am really excited for! Thank you again for the request anon! It was really fun to write, and i got through it pretty quickly to be perfectly honest because of that haha. Not proofread because im tired, and i have no shame :D enjoy!

! be sure to like and reblog if you enjoyed !

➼ first date with jinx 

You worked under Silco delivering shimmer across Zaun. Of course, you knew you shouldn’t have been doing this, it could get you arrested without question and you’d find yourself in Stillwater. But it paid well, and working so closely with the Eye of Zaun meant you didn’t have to worry as much about danger in Zaun. People saw you as a god-send, you gave them their weekly hit, if anything, the danger made them respect you. 

It was during this time that you met Jinx, while picking up your next delivery of shimmer from Silco’s warehouse. She had been there to speak with him privately about some arson issue that happened in Piltover. You had heard briefly about a lanky, blue-haired girl that would build bombs in the open space beneath the warehouse, but it was rare that anyone had ever seen her. But you managed. Somehow.

She intercepts you on your trade route, setting bombs off in the street just across from one of your clients. Jinx claims to recognise you from skulking around the warehouse. And at some point her chaotic energy and her strange inability to sit still seems to lull you into some sense of security. She’s just the perfect idea of unpredictability that you needed in your otherwise boring Zaunite lifestyle. (Though you were very lucky, all things considered.)

Your first date is a simple diner one. At first, you didn’t even know it was a date, just that she wanted to do something fun with you. She takes you in to meet her favourite bartender Chuck, who seems to almost slink beneath the counter when she drags you in. I feel like Jinx would give you a little monkey bomb as a gift for your first date - though it isn’t set, it’s pretty harmless. Other than that she bombards you with strange bursts of Jinx-aligned humour, and rambles at length about her various inventions, promising to take you down to her workshop to show you everything, while tightly gripping your fingers with chipped blue nails. 

And something in those bright, blue eyes makes you think that maybe this unpredictability could be quite fun. 

‘Don’t ya get bored frownin’ like that?’ jinx drums her nails on her glass, the clinking echoing throughout the empty bar. It was quite odd, you reckon, for it to be this quiet, but maybe its just jinx. 

In her own way of trying to get a smile out of you she starts spouting some random jokes. Tries telling her own funny stories. They all mostly revolve around bombs or explosive presentations she’s organised at piltover events. Mainly the absurdity of it all gets a laugh out of you, or you just smile at the giddy, child-like happiness you see in her eyes. Something that seems so pure (ignoring the fact that she’s probably an arsonist and on several watchlists)

‘There ya go!’ she cheers, grabbing onto your hands and interlacing your fingers. You think maybe you should paint your nails too to match her, see if it makes her happy. ‘You look so much prettier with a smile, trinket’

➼ first kiss with jinx 

It was after your third or fourth date that you ended up spending your free time in the warehouse. Jinx begins showing you all the new inventions she’s making, and all her designs for cartoony monkey bombs, you even help her draw out a few, including a cutesy little cat one that she isn’t as fond of, but she still makes one for you. 

Most of your relationship consists of Jinx making you little trinkets, like keychains, safe bombs, little bracelets and rings, and strange, misshapen sculptures made of leftover metal pieces. 

She loves you, in a very Jinx-way. She’s touchy but never very pushy. Long hugs, cuddles on a couch that she has balancing on a metal propellor in her warehouse, letting you braid her hair when she’s tired (please brush her hair, she will melt, and she needs some softness), holding hands in Zaun or dragging you to her private meetings with Silco. Whether you like it or not, you have the Eye of Zaun as an adopted father figure now. He isn’t quite sure what to think about it either. 

It is one of those cuddle sessions, after she is plagued by the voices that taunt her, that you end up just holding her face into your neck and sitting with her. These are the most important to her, like she can feel safe for once. 

‘Thank ya toots,’ she curls around you, straddling your lap and looking down on you with an innocent pout on her face. You don’t have to ask what she’s thanking you for, this has become a pretty regular occurrence. 

In her moment of calmed silence, you untie one of her braids and begin to brush through her long, blue locks with your fingers. She immediately melts into your hands, leaning forward to lean into your chest, gazing up at you. 

‘I feel like ya deserve somethin,’ she says absently, tapping her chin with one nail. Then a mischievous smile crosses her lips. ‘C’mere!’

She eagerly grabs your cheeks, barely giving you a second to register what’s happening before she smushes your faces together. Her lips are chapped, but her kiss is so enthusiastic that you have to take a moment before returning it. Your hand grips her hair in between tight fingers. 

The rest of your cuddle sesh is spent with soft, hurried kisses.

➼ first fight with jinx 

You don’t often fight with Jinx, you don’t like to yell at her or be upset, and watch her usually gleeful expression drop into that of a kicked puppy. But you were worried about her this time. 

She had gone up to piltover against Silco’s wishes again, most likely to stir up trouble, so he decided to send you after her to drag her back to Zaun. When you had gotten there however, you found only the debris of her explosions, the spraypaint she loved, clouds of coloured smoke, and guards everywhere. 

And no Jinx.

No sign of her or where she could be, you had no choice but to return to Zaun before you got dragged into the oncoming investigation, empty-handed. You spend the rest of the day worrying over where she might be in her workshop, sitting with your head in your hands on the couch. Is she hurt? Captured? She could be dead for all you know.

So when she shows up again, seemingly ignorant to how long she has been gone or the stress she has caused, you can’t help but raise your voice, crying about how you had expected the worst. You scream back and forth for a bit before she leaves you to burn off her energy.

‘Hey trinket,’ the door to her warehouse screeches open, and she stands in the entrance, looking at you as you sit on the couch, barely even looking at her. ‘Ya still mad at me?’

She sighs when she doesn’t get a response, coming close to wipe at the dried tear-stains on your cheeks, setting down her tools and her guns to favour your face between her hands. Jinx makes sure you can see only her.

‘I’m sorry i vanished, i didnt mean to scare ya, honest.’ she pulls you down to lean into her shoulder, still stroking your cheeks with her fingers. ‘Can ya forgive me, trinket? I’ll make it up to ya, i promise.’

Jinx cuddles with you on the couch for the rest of the day, showering you in kisses at your request. Safe to say, you can’t stay mad at her for very long at all.

|| ! mdni content below ! ||

➼ first time with jinx 

Jinx has always loved touching you, whether it’s a hand on your knee, an arm around your shoulder, or a hug from behind. She just loves to be close to you. But when you begin talking about the idea of sex with her she immediately jumps on the idea (and probably jumps on you as soon as you bring it up, you only barely manage to drag her somewhere private)

She’s an enthusiastic lover in all things, of course. Fucking you isn’t going to be any different. But she’s gentle the first time, despite it all, she doesn’t really know what she’s doing, i don’t think Silco really prepared her for intimate relationships. 

But still, having sex with Jinx is amusing, its not serious, always cracking little jokes or tickling each other and finding little ways to be comfortable with the process. You can’t really find it in you to be nervous. 

She’d start slowly with you though, if you wanted, just to make you comfortable <3 

‘God trinket, ya look s’ pretty like this for me,’ she’s already slightly breathless, skirting her hands and dragging her chipped nails over your ribs. She lays you down on the couch in her warehouse, sitting between your thighs, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes.

‘Ya feel alright?’ she checks in occasionally, just to be sure. 

But she lets her hands wander at the same time, she can tell you aren’t going to say no just by the look in your eyes, urging her to continue. She lets her hands travel over your stomach and down in between your thighs, but she doesn’t hurry where you need her. No, she prefers to tease you. Just a little bit to get you squirming. 

When she does finally reach your core, dipping her fingers in between your folds, does she finally let up and give you what you want.

[kyuuumie]

random sfw billdip headcanons (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

headcanons below the cut (๑◕◡◕๑)

🌲 - dipper often reminds bill that he’s human and will die eventually, to which bill either scoffs, claiming he’ll just drag dipper back from the afterlife, or outright avoids the topic, unwilling to even entertain the idea.

⚠️ - bill loves showing off his vast knowledge of the universe, but dipper constantly questions and challenges him, which secretly delights bill because dipper’s curiosity is one of the things he adores most.

🌲 - dipper spends nights pouring over ancient texts and magical lore, while bill lazily hovers over his shoulder, correcting dipper’s translations or making fun of the humans who wrote the texts.

⚠️ - bill’s idea of a date is often something surreal, like visiting a nightmare dimension or exploring dreamscapes. dipper complains at first but ends up being intrigued by the strangeness.

🌲 - dipper is prone to overthinking and insomnia, so bill, who doesn’t need sleep, often floats around the room narrating absurd dream stories or weird facts to help dipper relax.

⚠️ - when they argue, bill tends to get loud and dramatic, sometimes altering reality to prove his point, while dipper stays calm and logical, which drives bill crazy.

🌲 - dipper has a fear of thunderstorms, and although bill doesn’t fully understand why he would be afraid of something harmless, he awkwardly tries to comfort dipper, sometimes making the thunder quieter or altering the storm to be less frightening.

⚠️ - bill will sometimes alter reality slightly, like changing the color of the sky to match dipper’s favorite shade of blue or making stars form constellations spelling out embarrassing messages of love.

🌲 - dipper struggles with trusting bill fully, always keeping one eye open for tricks, but deep down, he knows that bill wouldn’t harm him at this point—if he wanted to, he already had plenty of chances.

⚠️ - bill often has fantasies of apocalyptic scenarios where he and dipper rule over a broken world together, though he’s never shared it with dipper because he knows how much dipper values the world’s stability.

🌲 - whenever dipper has a nightmare, bill immediately senses it and dives in, reshaping the dream into something less scary, though he often makes it weird and chaotic instead.

⚠️ - bill gets incredibly jealous when dipper spends too much time with other people, making passive-aggressive comments or causing minor reality glitches as a sign of his displeasure.

🌲 - dipper constantly acts as bill’s moral compass, reminding him that not everything needs to end in chaos or destruction. this creates a strange dynamic where bill tries (and often fails) to tone down his destructive tendencies for dipper’s sake.

⚠️ - bill warps time whenever dipper is about to miss something important, like giving him an extra few hours to finish a project or study. dipper gets annoyed because it’s technically cheating, but he appreciates it.

🌲 - dipper sometimes struggles with the moral implications of being in love with someone as dangerous as bill, but he ultimately decides that love isn’t always black and white, and his feelings are genuine despite the risks.

⚠️ - bill constantly tries to make deals with dipper, offering outlandish rewards in exchange for little things like affection or time together. dipper always refuses, but bill keeps trying, purely for fun.

🌲 - dipper isn’t afraid to call bill out on his more questionable behavior, and though bill laughs it off, dipper knows that bill respects him more for being able to stand his ground.

⚠️ - bill struggles with human etiquette, often forgetting small social norms. dipper has to remind him not to laugh maniacally in public or avoid turning a small argument into a reality-warping event.

🌲 - dipper finds it hard to express his deeper emotions around bill, knowing that bill thrives on control and chaos. but in rare moments, he lets his guard down, and bill responds with surprising tenderness.

⚠️ - bill tries to cook for dipper but ends up using ingredients that are barely edible. dipper appreciates the effort, even if the food is... questionable.

🌲 - dipper’s natural curiosity sometimes drives him to ask bill questions about the darker aspects of the universe. while bill is more than willing to indulge, dipper always keeps a careful boundary between curiosity and crossing into moral grey areas.

⚠️ - bill sometimes reads dipper’s thoughts and responds to them before dipper can even say anything, which dipper finds both unsettling and endearing.

🌲 - dipper has become so desensitized to the supernatural that bizarre occurrences, like reality warping or bill’s eldritch transformations, no longer faze him.

⚠️ - bill often hints at his ability to make dipper immortal, teasing him with the idea of an eternity together, though dipper isn’t sure if bill is serious or just messing with him.

[meinkatzchen]

Mate I'm just seriously loving your take on ren, it's impressed so much so far too!

Also could I patch up your y/n? Poor gal looks scared out her wits.. Gonna pull that fox's tail if it happens again [[Still fab art, keep it up hon!!]]

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! 💕💕💕 I have a cold right now, so I hope my thoughts won't come across as jumbled. I still really like to see Ren not as such a harmless fluffy ball of shyness, as Gato showed him in the original BTD (although he is quite cute there, but still…I don't see any interest in developing relationships with MC, whom Strade decided to keep, if they initially get along with Ren x) ). As for the remake, I am building my own image of the fox-boy based on the available screenshots from Gato's Patreon and it seemed to me, no, I had a strong thought in my head that he could be hostile at the beginning if: MC is beastkin, and Strade keep them alive (I already wrote why in post), MC is trying to escape from the basement, and he does not want to help them, or if MC attacked him first. And he will be dangerous, I mean, he has claws and fangs! And, it seems, strong arms. And also, a strong fear of Strade and deep submission to him. But in general…Fights with MC and those nasty/painful actions that Strade can force two to do together are just the tip of the iceberg in this house, which can affect the emotional background of two. Ren can frame MC at home and manipulate them if they are cold and hostile to him. But if they treat him friendly, respectful and affectionate, then he will definitely reciprocate! And I think that the two of them can cooperate to take care of each other's mental and physical condition. I have too many headcanons for the relationship between the fox-boy and my cat-girl and I hope that I can gradually show them somehow. In general, I advise you and everyone to dream and come up with your own heads, it's fun!

AWWWWWWW!!! Btw, my cat (her name is Mist) will be fine 💕 I'm coloring this picture now and I understand that, judging by the fresh wounds on Ren, she scratched him pretty badly, so, temporarily, she is not his friend, but his sparring partner…….but Mist is cunning, if she caused you sympathy and a desire to treat her wounds and drag Ren away, then she did everything right ;)

[6rookie-writer0110]

Don't wake me up

Astrid Deetz x Reader (Gender-Neutral)

Summary - Date night at an abandoned theme park.

“What are we doing here?” Astrid asked.

“This is our date here,” You said.

You and Astrid are standing in front of an abandoned theme park at night.

“You said you didn't want a normal date,” You said.

“I didn't say that. But this could be fun, but nothing will work without the power” Astrid said.

“You don't have to be negative, I already thought about that” You smiled.

You kissed her cheek and she smiled. She grabbed your hand and followed you inside. You showed her where is the powerbox and you turned it on. Some of the rides did turn and others didn't turn on. You and Astrid start to walk around and you are feeling a little scared, but you don't tell her. She felt the squeeze you did on her hand but she didn't say anything about it. You and Astrid are standing in the bumper car rink, you notice the power box and turn it on.

“Let's do it” You smiled.

You and Astrid go to the rink and pick a different bumper car. You are surprised it started to move then she bumped into you, then she started to giggle. You and Astrid are just driving around and bumping into each other.

You and Astrid leave the rink and walk around again. Then she dragged you toward the games then she got behind the counter. You watched her set up the metal-rusted cans into a small pyramid.

“Throw the ball and see if you can a prize,” Astrid said.

“I don't think I would want those dirty plush,” You said.

She grabbed the balls from the ground and gave it to you.

“Just throw, Y/N” Astrid smiled

She moves to the side and she watches you throw the balls. You did knock the cans down

“What did I win? Please don't say those dirty plush” You said.

She went towards you, grabbed your shirt, and kissed you on the lips.

“I like this prize” you smiled.

“Me too” Astrid smiled.

You kiss her back and she doesn't stop smiling. You and Astrid start to walk around again, then you follow her to the carousel.

“Do you think it will work?” Astrid asked.

“I don't think so, it hasn't worked over ten years,” You said.

“I think we should find out,” Astrid said.

“Okay,” You said.

While looking around, you saw the power switch. The carousel started to move and turn around for a few seconds then it stopped.

“I’m surprised it worked for a few seconds,” You said.

“I did wish it kept working, it would have been more fun,” Astrid said.

You have your hand on the horse of the carousel. At first, you didn't notice the spider going on your hand now you noticed it, your eyes opened wide.

“Y/N don't scream,” Astrid said.

“I hate spiders” Your voice cracked.

You were about to shake your hand but she was quick enough to get the spider away from your hand. You started to shake your hand and she started to pet the spider. You moved away from her and she started to giggle.

“Y/N, pet it” Astrid smiled.

“No!” You stated.

“Y/N, don't be a baby. Pet the spider, see it won't bite” Astrid said.

She likes bugs and she knows that you hate every single type of bug. She told you before that some bugs are harmless but you don't care. She kept walking towards you but you moved away from her then she laughed.

“Astrid Deetz stop it,” You said.

“Wow, full name. Such a baby, Y/N” Astrid giggled.

You kept moving away from her and she petted the spider. She gently put the spider on the ground and she walked towards you. She did catch up to you and grabbed your hand and she is still smiling.

“You don't have to be scared anymore,” Astrid said.

“Gross you touched a spider” You teased.

“Whatever, Y/N” Astrid smiled.

You and Astrid kept exploring the amusement park. You and Astrid noticed the fireworks then you helped her climb to the roof of the funhouse. She sits next to you and she wraps her arm around your arm.

“I had fun tonight, Y/N,” Astrid said.

“Me too. First time doing this with anyone glad it was with you” You said.

“I feel the same way,” Astrid said.

You and Astrid looked at each other, then she kissed you on the lips. Then you and Astrid continued to watch the fireworks together.

[brainddeadd]

oooo young player x devils!

maybe she went to the all stars with jack and jesper and her and jack were just chasing chaos everywhere and jack made sure he introduced his favorite teammate to everyone

All Star

The NHL All-Star weekend was one of the biggest events of the season, and Y/N couldn’t believe she was there. As one of the youngest players on the New Jersey Devils, it felt surreal to be surrounded by the league's best players. But it wasn’t just the experience that made it memorable—it was the fact that she got to attend with Jack Hughes and Jesper Bratt.

From the moment they arrived, Jack had stuck to her side like glue, dragging her along as he greeted friends and teammates from across the league. Jesper, ever the calm balance between Jack's chaos, trailed behind with a grin, shaking his head at Jack’s antics.

“You ready to cause some trouble?” Jack had whispered to Y/N with a mischievous gleam in his eye the minute they set foot in the arena.

“Always,” she replied, smirking.

The two of them became an unstoppable duo. Whether it was sneaking into places they probably weren’t supposed to be or challenging other All-Stars to ridiculous mini-competitions, they were everywhere, causing harmless but hilarious chaos.

At one point, Jesper just stood there watching with amusement as Jack and Y/N started an impromptu stickhandling contest on the carpet in the hallway. “You two are like little kids,” he said, shaking his head but unable to hide his grin.

But it wasn’t all just playful chaos. Jack had one goal in mind: to introduce Y/N to everyone. He was proud to have her as his teammate and wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to show it off.

He dragged her to different groups of players, a big smile on his face each time he introduced her. “This is Y/N—my favorite teammate!” Jack would say enthusiastically. “Seriously, you gotta watch out for her on the ice. She’s a beast.”

Every time, Y/N would laugh, a little embarrassed, but she couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride at how much Jack hyped her up. She had quickly become close to Jack and the rest of the boys on the Devils, and seeing him talk about her like that made her feel like she really belonged.

At one point, they found themselves face-to-face with Connor McDavid. Jack, unphased, immediately launched into introductions. “Connor, you’ve gotta meet Y/N! She’s going to take over the league one day, I swear.”

Connor chuckled and gave her a friendly nod. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’ve heard good things.”

Y/N smiled nervously, feeling the weight of the high praise from both Jack and McDavid. “Thanks. I’ve still got a long way to go, though.”

“Trust me, you’ll get there,” Connor said with a reassuring smile before glancing at Jack. “You picked a good favorite.”

“Right?!” Jack grinned, slinging an arm around her shoulders as if to show off even more.

As the day went on, Jack continued to introduce her to every player he could, his excitement never waning. Whether it was players from other teams, media, or event organizers, Jack made sure everyone knew who Y/N was.

At the Skills Competition, the two of them were up to more mischief. Between events, they’d jokingly commentate on each other’s performances, making playful bets on who could outdo the other. Jesper sat on the bench, shaking his head at their antics, but you could see the fondness in his eyes. Even on a stage as big as the All-Star weekend, they didn’t take themselves too seriously.

Nico Hischier, who was watching the weekend unfold from back home, texted Y/N during one of the events: “You and Jack causing trouble? Don’t let him get you into too much.”

She replied with a picture of Jack mid-celebration after winning a contest: “No promises :)”

By the end of the weekend, Y/N was exhausted but buzzing with excitement. It had been a whirlwind of meeting legends, participating in events, and sharing endless laughs with Jack and Jesper. As they were heading out, Jack looked at her with a grin. “This was fun. You’re coming to every All-Star game from now on with me, right?”

Y/N laughed. “If I can keep up with you, sure.”

“You will. And next year, we’ll cause even more chaos,” Jack promised with a wink.

Jesper sighed dramatically from beside them. “Just try not to get banned from the league, alright?”

As they all piled into the car to head back, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a surge of gratitude. She had found a family in this team, and moments like these, where Jack made sure she was part of the fun and excitement, meant everything.

And even though she was the youngest and still learning, she knew one thing for sure—she wasn’t going to forget this weekend anytime soon.