#he Needs to get back in touch with himself

[bi-writes]

deranged ex husband!ghost thoughts:

he lives up to his nickname. he's not ex husband price who simply Does Not Stop and shows up all the time to demonstrate to your new partners that he is fundamental anatomy to your life.

he haunts you. tampered amazon packages, a room slightly altered when you return from work, he's in your phone, he's in your inbox, he fixes things while you're away just as often as he breaks them.

is there someone in the other room? you bought a travel door lock and replaced every piece of home security tech with something new but you can swear you can hear a window shimmied open, a door lock whirring. you think you're losing your mind. who do you call when you think you're being stalked? when security is your greatest fear? your ex? his friends?

a wriggling and primal part of your mind warns you this is a bad idea. but you unblock his number, you text simon to see if he's still in the area. how are you doing? i know it's been a while, but i need a favor.

oh my goodness............................. (18+)

he says nothing as he does a walkthrough of your new divorcee flat. one bedroom in a nice-enough neighborhood, but you saw the twitch of his eye when he noticed the front lobby doors could be jimmyed open with the edge of a credit card.

the cat greets him like she always does. slender, grey thing that slithers between his thick legs as he moves through your space. you notice his gloved hands ghosting over divots in entryways that he made, flicking the useless lock of your window that he's already broken himself twice. you follow him like a puppy into every room he studies, rocking back and forth, wet eyes and trembling lips realizing as he moves just how unsafe you are.

he says nothing when he stands in your foyer again after doing his thorough once-over, turning to face you silently, where you're already crying. he just stands, not touching you, tilting his head to the side as he watches those glassy, salty tears fall down your puffed cheeks as you sputter through soft breaths that you don't know what to do.

ghost just kisses his teeth and stands there. he's an asshole—he's not going to do anything unless you ask him to. he's mean like that, likes to be wanted. he wants you to open your pretty, wet mouth and ask for it like a good girl. he's not going to assume you want his help; he wants you to put your hands on his thick chest and ask him all pathetic that you need him to do something about the thing that's been breaking into your house.

ghost is not your husband anymore though. when he was, he would've gladly fixed all your things for you. he would've gladly spent the entire day installing cameras, fixing your locks, getting you proper deadbolts, but he's just some man to you now, and his labor isn't for free.

he wants to feel nasty about it, but he can't. you don't even have to ask what he wants—you know what it is. you sniffle, blubbery and whiny, as you put your thumbs into the gusset of your sleep shorts and pull them to the side as you bend over the kitchen counter.

he keeps a big hand tangled in your hair as he fucks you. he yanks your neck back, bending you at the hip, an angle so sharp that your back arches uncomfortably as the edge of the counter digs into your tummy sharply. he barely makes a sound himself, but the slick between your bodies makes up for it.

slap, slap, slap—you're soaked between the thighs, all wound up and hot and breathless after watching ghost be so capable and confident and smart. he's so intelligent. he's so big and brawny and brave. you'd trade anything to feel safe again after living on your own after so long, and honestly, paying for fixed locks for a wet shag with your ex-husband isn't the worst price at all.

the problem between you two was never the sex, that's for sure. in fact, you think the connection alone kept you around longer than you meant to be. ghost would light a cigarette and stick a thick hand down his trousers, and you'd all but fall onto his dick just to placate the heat of attraction that always wound you like crazy.

your eyes roll back in your head when he cups your pussy with a big, hot hand. you grip the counter and grind against his palm, sticking your tongue out as he pounds into you deeper, more forcefully. he's close, you know it by the falter in his breaths, and you can't help yourself.

you just can't.

"inside—" you whine. "don't pull out—"

ghost laughs—why the fuck would he ever pull out?

maybe if he breaks a window next, you'll let him try for a baby.

[sv3t1ana]

SYNOPSIS ᯓ In your college math class, you’ve always seen Choso as the quiet, nerdy guy who kept to himself. He was the one with perfect grades and a pair of glasses perched on his nose. When your midterm grades don’t reflect your effort, you ask him to tutor you.

PAIRING ᯓ Tutor! NerdCho x fem! reader

WARNINGS ᯓ SMUT MDNI, college AU, VIRGIN CHOSO, tw: calculus </3, you take his virginity, you make him call you "good girl," you make him tutor you during it, lots of consent, unprotected piv sex, eye contact, sweet ending, fluff, PORN WITH PLOT, reader is very sweet with nervous shy Choso.

WORD COUNT ᯓ 6.0k

Your head rests in your hands, drowning out the noise of pens moving, glossing over the set of calculus problems sat in front of you. At this point you don’t know why you still try. You’ve failed every assignment so far, and the midterm went so horribly you had to physically go outside and touch grass to keep yourself from becoming too depressed about it.

Most of the class either had their heads in their phone or pretending to follow along, and then there’s Choso. You noticed him immediately, he was always on task, scribbling notes, glasses perched on his nose, he looked like the kind of guy who sleeps with a textbook under his pillow. It looked like math was as easy as breathing for him, and you couldn’t comprehend why someone would actually care about this stuff.

-----

Choso noticed you on day one, your hair perfectly blown out, pink manicured nails, coffee in hand, about 10 minutes late. He noticed even sooner that you struggled, the way you’d roll your eyes and cock your head back dramatically in the middle of an in-class assignment, or when you’d pull your laptop out to check your test scores just to sigh loud enough for everyone to hear.

You were exactly his type. Well, not that he had a type per se, and not that he’s ever so much as shook hands with the opposite sex, but you were too attractive for him not to like you. When you spoke up it made his heart stutter, the way you squinted your eyes and brows furrowed in concentration made his stomach flip, the perfume you wore blessing his lungs.

He knew you were never the type of girl to talk to him. Not when he overheard you talking with your friends outside the classroom about some party.

“I’m telling you, you need to go all out for this Halloween party. It’s gonna be crazy. What are you wearing?”

“Oh, I’ve got the perfect thing. A super slutty devil outfit. You know, a skirt, corset, fishnets.”

He nearly passed out visualizing you in that outfit, how your thighs would look restrained by fishnets, a corset that would cinch your waist dangerously thin and probably make your tits pop out, but he was in the middle of class, and he already told himself he’d stop getting boners in the middle of class.

It was too much for him, why did you have such a tight hold on his heart when you’d never speak to him? It just made his self-confidence dwindle, as if he couldn’t become more of a coward.

-----

It was about three weeks out from the final, and thank god these websites existed online that could tell you what you needed to score on the final to pass the class.

Unfortunately for you, you scored a measly 11/100 on the midterm, meaning you’d need at least 90/100 to pass the class with a 70%, and hell would freeze over before you taught yourself calculus topics well enough to score that high on the final.

It was a Monday, and you were feeling the aftermath of a Sunday darty a little too strongly. You might’ve slept in a bit too much, and honestly, you didn’t care. Attendance was a grade booster, and you weren’t about to let those free points slip through your fingers. You walked into class, hair a mess, dressed in the baggiest sweatpants and the most oversized hoodie you could find.

The second you stepped through the door you didn’t miss the way Choso’s eyes widened as they locked on your disheveled state. You barely spared him a glance as you shuffled to your seat, exhaling loudly in relief that you even made it here at all.

But, of course, the universe wasn’t quite done with you yet.

You reached for your bag, only to realize, fuck, you forgot your pens and pencils.

You giggled to yourself getting out of your seat and walking over to him.

“Can I bother you for a pen?” you asked, voice smooth and sweet, flashing him a playful puppy-dog look.

Choso’s face turned pink, and he immediately froze up. “U-um, yeah, of course.” His voice cracked, and you could practically hear his heart pounding in his chest. His posture straightened, like your words sent a jolt of electricity through him.

His hand trembled slightly as he handed you the nicest pen in his collection, like it was a prized possession.

You grinned, “Thanks!” Then, just as you were about to turn back to your desk, you stopped mid-step and spun around on your heel, catching him completely off guard.

Your eyes locked onto him again, serious expression on your face as he nearly jumped out of his seat. “Oh, wait. What did you get on the midterm?”

He fidgeted, averting his gaze and adjusting his glasses nervously. “Oh, uh.. 100.”

He said it like it was the most casual thing in the world. You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Okay, genius.”

-----

For the next week after that, every time you entered the class Choso was always there first, so you spared him a smile and wave.

At first, he didn’t know you were even waving at him, looking behind him like there must be someone else more worthy of your attention, just to be met with the wall of windows behind where he sat, and you were, in fact, waving to him. He lifted his hand nervously, a timid smile curving his lips, waving back as you set your drink on your desk and prepared for another grueling lecture.

It was becoming more real, finals two weeks out, and you just failed every assignment last week, it was not looking good for you.

Until, a devilish smile spread across your face as an idea popped into your head, almost a physical light bulb appearing above your head because your scheme was just that great.

You had it all planned out. Step one, wear the thinnest, tightest, most revealing top you had. Step two, ask Choso to tutor you. How could it go wrong?

-----

It was just another normal day to Choso, or at least as normal as it could be when the girl he’d spent the last few months secretly pining for had started waving at him almost every day. That had become his new normal, and it still made his heart race every time.

But that day, you walked in, and everything changed.

You wore a pair of tight jeans and a button-up short-sleeved top that was a little too tight across the chest. The last button on your shirt barely held on, the fabric straining over the curve of your breasts, and he had to swallow to keep himself from completely losing it.

“Your name’s Choso, right?” you asked, voice sweet, eyes locked on his, and oh god, you looked so cute.

“Y-yeah,” he stammered, cheeks warming.

“Well, I was wondering...” you propped your hands on your knees, bending down to his level, but with the angle you were leaning, your tits were the first thing he saw rather than your face. His eyes shot to the floor. “Would you be willing to help tutor me so I can pass this final?”

You clasped your hands together in front of your chest, bottom lip jutting out as you tilted your head, looking at him with the kind of pleading gaze he couldn’t say no to. “Pleeaseee?”

And oh god, you were begging him. He could hardly breathe, his heart pounding so hard it might’ve leapt right out of his chest.

His face was a deep crimson, ears nearly exploding off his head, “U-um, sure, I-I can help.”

You smiled so brightly that it took all of his willpower not to melt. “Great! Thanks!” you cheered, jumping in excitement.

Shit, holy shit, when you jumped your boobs were bouncing right in his face. Brain short-circuiting, he had to look away, he had to. There was no way he could survive this.

Of course you noticed. “Here, put your number in my phone so I can text you later,” you winked.

He hesitatingly took your phone in his hand, fingers trembling.

All of this. All of this in one day?

First you waved at him, then you wore that outfit, and then you said you’ll text him? It was all over for him at this point. His life was officially over.

-----

It was late at night when you texted, the first text Choso had ever got from a non-family member.

“hey Choso, when can we start the tutoring?”

He kept typing out the message, deleting it, typing it out, deleting it, damn near 15 minutes go by before he actually responded.

“I’m free after class tomorrow if that works for you. I can meet you at the library or somewhere on campus.”

Your response coming almost immediately.

“i was thinking maybe we could do it at your dorm? quieter and more focused, you know?”

At his dorm? It was almost 1:00 AM and he was already cleaning.

“Uh, yeah, that works. My dorm is fine. I’ll text you when I get back.”

You flipped over in your bed, feet kicking in the air and giggling to yourself. Ugh, you loved making boys nervous. There was just something about Choso that made you want to corrupt him, smash his glasses with your heel and make him do your homework for the rest of his life.

-----

You spent all day in your room, holding different shirt options to your body in front of the mirror in anticipation of your first tutoring session. You really did need the help, but what girl didn’t want to look her best with her new male tutor?

You were so giddy about it you skipped all of your classes for the day, this was such an important event for you.

-----

You plucked at the hem of your shirt, dragging the fabric between your fingers as Choso flips through his notes. His dorm was neat, neater than you expected. His bed was all made, desk clean of clutter, trashcan empty, it made you giggle, actually. He did all this for you.

You grinned at him, “you look nervous.”

He adjusted his glasses, deadpanning you. “I’m not.”

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head at him and squinting your eyes. “Right. So you’re just gripping that pen like it’s your last lifeline?”

Choso glanced down, loosening his grip slightly which made you smile. “Let’s just start. What’s the derivative of 3x cubed?”

You hummed, tapping your lips in exaggerated thought. “Mmm… seven?”

“No.” He replied flatly.

You laughed, leaning forward on his desk. “You’re cute when you’re annoyed.”

Choso paused for half a second, and you didn’t miss the way his jaw tenses.

He exhaled through his nose, ignoring your comment. “Try again.”

You stretched back in your chair, throwing your arms over your head. “God, this is so hard. My brain just doesn’t work like yours, y’know?”

Choso stares at you, expression unreadable as he flips to a new page in his notebook and scribbles something down, sliding it toward you.

You glance down. A problem is written out step by step, clear, easy to follow. For all his awkwardness, he’s patient. You expected him to break first.

“You know, Choso, I think you might actually be a good tutor.”

He quirked an eyebrow, “that was kinda the point.”

The first tutoring session played out like this, your impatience clashing with his steady calm, laced with sharp-edged banter. In the end, you did pick up a few things, one of them being that your new favorite pastime was making him tremble.

When the session finally wrapped up, you stretched, shirt riding up just enough to make his gaze snap to the desk. “Alright, I think that’s enough for today. I’d say I earned a lot,” you mused, voice thick with fake amusement.

Choso swallowed, not knowing if you meant calculus or something else entirely. “Uh, yeah. Just keep practicing.”

You shot him a lazy smile, telling him how good of a tutor he was and letting his name roll off your tongue. You knew what you did to him.

Later that night you sat in bed, laptop open and textbook in front of you, shooting him a text.

“why is math even a requirement for me. be fr rn. i just tried to do one problem and just stared at it for five minutes before giving up. i am beyond saving.”

“You are not beyond saving. You just need more practice.”

“nerd. okay but seriously, how do you not struggle at all? i bet you could do derivatives in your sleep.”

“I mean, probably. It’s just simple pattern recognition.”

“well the only pattern i recognize is me bombing every exam.”

“That’s why we’re tutoring, right? You’ll get it.”

“you have so much faith in me, it’s almost cute.”

Choso stared at his screen for way too long, rereading your words like they might change if he blinked enough. Cute. Him cute? Well, almost cute. But still. Cute.

“You’re not as hopeless as you think. Just need a better way to approach the problems.”

“aww lol u really care huh? so sweet :)”

He immediately regretted everything.

“Just get some sleep.”

He hesitated before sending another text. He really, really shouldn’t do it.

“Good night.”

Stupid, why would he send that?

“goodnight, Choso <3”

He hadn’t even realized he was holding his breath until he let out a shaky exhale. His heart hammering in his chest, fingers gripping the phone so tightly he thought it might crack.

He cursed under his breath, forcing himself to set the phone down. But he didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. His thoughts racing, a chaotic swirl of “she’s teasing” and “she’s just being nice” then “no, she’s probably messing with me.”

But what if you weren't?

His heart skipped as he tried to lie still, the faintest tremble in his legs and hands betraying his calm exterior. He squeezed his eyes shut, sweat beading on his forehead, heat creeping up his neck, skin burning with embarrassment.

You idiot. Why did you say anything?

The words “good night” had felt like an eternity before he hit send, and now that it was done he couldn’t help but question everything.

He grabbed his chest, clutching it like he could contain the frantic rhythm of his pulse. Was he too forward? Too weird?

God, this is so stupid.

But he remembered how you smiled earlier, how you looked at him like you wanted to keep going. That thought alone was enough to make his heart beat faster. He groaned into his pillow, clenching his fist around the sheets, unsure of how much longer he could survive this.

-----

Today was your second tutoring session with Choso, looking forward to it because you knew the chaos you were about to stir.

It wasn’t just the subject that had you on edge, it was the way he made you feel when he tried so hard to maintain his composure, and how cute he looked when you knocked him off balance.

You picked out a low-cut top that left just enough to the imagination. The black fabric clung to your body, outlining every curve, and the thin straps only accentuated the subtle shift in your posture as you moved. Paired with denim shorts that were just a liiitle too short for your liking.

Oh you were definitely going to enjoy this.

When you arrived at his dorm, he greeted you at the door, eyes widening just a fraction as they flicked to your outfit. His face flushed and he nervously cleared his throat.

“Hey,” you greeted, casually walking in and trying your best to act nonchalant, the little smile tugging at the corner of your lips betraying you. “So… what are we doing today?”

His voice was a little too strained. “Uh, w-we’re going over limits and derivatives,” he darted his eyes around the room. “You, uh… you ready?”

You couldn’t help but notice how stiff he was, how his posture was unnaturally rigid like he was trying not to make any sudden movements. His eyes kept flicking up and down between your face and anywhere else on your body, his gaze lingering too long on your chest, hands twitching at his sides.

You raised an eyebrow as you took a seat, smiling at him so warmly you looked like a beautiful renaissance painting. And Choso tried so hard not to look at you directly, his fingers shaky as they reached for his textbook.

You leaned forward, making sure to get just a bit closer than necessary, your bare knee brushing against his as you settled in. You watched how he stiffened, body going tense as if he were holding himself together by sheer willpower.

“You look distracted,” you quipped, and oh, you just looked so pretty, sitting so close to him, hair framing your face perfectly, long lashes fluttering in his direction like you didn’t know what you did to him.

He blushed again, immediately averting his stare. His words stammered as he tried to focus. “N-no, I’m not distracted! Just trying to make sure I can explain this correctly.”

You bit your lip, savoring the moment. Watching him squirm under your teasing felt way too good. You really liked this.

“I’m sure you’ll do fine.” You said it with a mischievous glint in your eyes, turning your body to face him more directly and leaning in, hands in your lap so your arms accidentally pushed your boobs together. “I think I’m distracting you.”

You could practically feel the sweat beading his hairline. His voice cracked when he spoke, “No! I’m fine, I-I can do this.”

He cleared his throat again, turning the pages of his textbook with a little more force than necessary. Without thinking, you reached your arm forward, one of your elbows accidentally brushing against his arm as you reached for the textbook.

You don’t know if he actually gasped or you just fantasized that.

His hand landed clumsily on your thigh, just below the hem of your shorts. His fingers were warm, thick, long, you could feel his pulse beneath his skin, fast and erratic. His eyes were wide, mouth agape staring at his hand like it just committed a heinous crime. You had to fight to keep your expression neutral, but a part of you want to grab his hand to keep it there as he drew away.

“Uh!” He stammered, yanking his hand away so quickly it felt like he burned himself. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean- I wasn’t-”

You smiled, leaning back casually. “It’s fine. Really,” you said, your voice sweet like honey. “You can touch me anytime.”

As if his blush couldn’t get any deeper, his mouth opened to say something but the words seemed to fail him as he returned fumbling with the pages of his textbook. Hands even more jittery than before.

You sighed, humming to yourself, taking in the sight of his discomfort with an unrelenting smile. He’s so cute when he’s flustered.

The tutoring session stretched on longer than either of you expected, filled with more awkward moments and persistent tension. But despite the longing glances and missteps, you could kind of understand unit 1. Progress. A small victory.

----

It was the morning before your final, and your bed felt like the only thing worth living for. The world outside was bustling and you couldn’t care less. You tossed and turned, half-heartedly kicking off your blankets and throwing your pillows across the room as if it were the source of all your problems. Maybe if I break the pillow, you thought in a daze, I’ll magically forget I have to study.

The snooze button was your best friend but it wasn’t doing you any favors today. You were stuck in a loop of staring at the ceiling and wishing for the sweet release of sleep, but even then, your mind couldn’t settle. Your brain refusing to focus on anything other than the thought of seeing Choso later. It shouldn’t have been that exciting, but you were feeling a little giddy. Maybe it was his nervous, earnest energy, or how adorably flustered he always got around you. Whatever it was, you had to admit: you were looking forward to tutoring today… just not the actual studying part.

As you got yourself ready for the day, your phone buzzed, and it was a message from Choso.

“Ready for tutoring?”

You stared at it for a while. You really didn’t want to study. But the thought of seeing him so pliant, of making him fidget like he always did, was enough to pull you out of your pit of dread.

-----

You barely looked at your notes, instead keeping your gaze on him. You pouted, jutting out your bottom lip, not bothering to hide the irritation building inside of you.

“I don’t wanna do this,” you groaned, slouching and folding your arms. “Can’t I just not? I mean what’s the point?”

Choso hesitated, looking at you from the corner of his eye. “I- well, I think it would help if we just focused a little longer. You’ve made progress.”

But that didn’t help your mood. You puffed out your bottom lip even more. “Ugh, no. I don’t wanna,” you whined, catching his eyes with yours, watching him fumble with the pen in his hands.

You extended an arm, resting your hand on the nape of his neck playing with the stray hairs that fell from his buns. “Come on, Choso. Tell me I’ve been a good girl today. I deserve it for actually showing up.”

He froze, breath hitching. There was a moment of silence before he pushed his glasses up. “I-I… You’ve been good,” he mumbled.

You tilted your head at him, still twirling his hair between your fingers. “No, I’ve been a good girl, right?”

His lips parted, looking at you shyly when you began tracing circles on his upper back with your nails, causing a shiver to visibly run through his body. “Yes… you’ve been a- a good girl.”

You smiled softly at him. “Thanks, Cho, but I really don’t wanna study today,” you said, voice melodious.

“You’re welcome,” he murmured, cut off from whatever else he was going to say when you stood from your chair, throwing a leg over his lap and straddling him.

“W-we need to study,” he said, expression pure as he looked at you, he really had no choice to, you took up his entire vision, nonetheless sat on his lap. Your breasts were squished against his hard chest, your erect nipples poking from your shirt, which he saw you wore no bra.

“Chooo,” you said in a sing-songy voice, bringing your glossed lips inches away from his. “If you really wanna study that bad then fine, but I deserve a reward.”

“A-a reward-”

You brought your lips to his in a sweet, delicate kiss, testing the waters. He halted for a beat before returning the kiss, not knowing exactly what he’s supposed to be doing and accidentally using way too much teeth.

You couldn’t help but giggle, wrapping your arms around his suspiciously broad shoulders, momentarily breaking the kiss. “Jeez, you work out or something?” You asked, leaning back to eye him as your hands traveled his shoulders, squeeze his biceps, caress his chest.

“U-um,” he didn’t have time to respond before you kissed him again. This time, your lips parted to lick his, grazing your teeth over his bottom lip before bringing it into your mouth to lightly bite it. He groaned in response, instinctively bringing his hands up to rest modestly high on your back.

You hummed into his mouth, retracting your hands to guide his, helping him to find purchase on your ass. “You can touch me, Cho,” you said gently, moving your hips higher on his lap.

He nearly whimpered feeling your body weight on his erection, involuntarily squeezing you as your hips grind on his, planting wet kissing along his jaw and neck.

You laughed to yourself, he was so adorable like this. He had no idea what to do, no idea how to kiss, where to put his hands. It was so precious, and it made the heat in your center burn even more.

“Take my shirt off,”

“A-are you sure? I mean, we need to-”

“Pleeeaseee, Cho?” You gave him that pout again, that look with wide, sad eyes that he couldn’t resist. Your existence just made this a losing game for him, and his palms were already sweaty peeling the fabric off your body, letting out a shaky inhale at the sight of your pert nipples, rotund breasts that were just begging him to touch.

“You- you’re beautiful,” he said under his breath, unable to take his gaze away from your bare body before him, he could tell your skin was delicately soft without even touching it.

“You really think so?” A brush spread across your cheeks, your arousal soaking your panties watching him completely awestruck. “You can touch them, it’s okay.”

He cupped your breasts with either hand, kneading them and letting the tissue pillow between his fingers in his grasp.

“Put one in your mouth,” your voice was so sweet, so sugary guiding him through the normal bouts of foreplay.

And he did just that, lowering his head to meet your breasts and sucking so tactfully like you were a precious heirloom that’d break if he was too rough.

“You can be more rough, I’m okay, I promise.” He looked up at you questionably, before he used the flat of his tongue in long strokes over your nipple, taking his time to relish in this moment, savoring the taste of your skin on his tastebuds. He used the tip of his tongue to toy with your nipple, drawing shapes on it which only made you arch your back into him, threading your fingers in his hair.

He just kept going at it, switching between them making sure they both got the same love before you had to tell him to stop, the teasing stimulation making you so antsy sitting on his clothed cock.

You removed his shirt next, revealing his chiseled chest and abs, your mouth watering at the sight. You licked stripes up his neck, sucking on his pulse points and biting as he melted under you. You’d give him a bite, smooth it over with your tongue, plant kisses on it, then give him a hickey.

By the end of this he’d be littered with them, marked as yours.

Your bare breasts on his skin was making him feral, he never in a million years thought this was how he’d spend the end of his sophomore year in college. He thought he’d have to pay someone in order to lose his virginity, probably spend the rest of his life alone as his awkwardness made it impossible to talk to women. But here you were, half-naked and gyrating your hips on his erection. Let alone a woman as beautiful as you, someone he fell in love with the moment you opened your lips for him.

“Should we study, Cho?” You ask, looking up at him from where you left traces of yourself on his body.

“Uh, s-study?” His breath was nearly gone, lost in thought about how he had to be the luckiest man in the world to somehow sign up for the same math class as you.

“Yeah,” you planted a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “We can start studying now,” you began getting off his lap, and he was trying to devise a plan on how to get through a tutoring session with the ache in his pants, that was until you slipped your shorts off, panties landing on the floor with them.

Oh.

Oh.

When you straddled him again, your slick arousal was already forming a spot on his pants.

“U-um,” he stuttered, pushing up his glasses. His blush started at his appled cheekbones, ending somewhere his happy trail ran under his pants. Somewhere you were so desperate for. “I thought, you wanted to-”

“We’ll study,” you said, caressing his muscled form, using your nail to trace down his chest, then his abs. “Is it okay if I unbutton your pants?”

He bobbed his head up and down almost frantically, his mouth drooling at you fully naked, fully naked on top of him. He pinched the underside of his leg to make sure this wasn’t a dream, his head had been spinning from the moment you touched him.

You deftly unbuttoned his pants, unzipping and letting him shimmy his way out of them. You palmed the very large erection over his boxers, running your hands up and down his length. His head dropped forward, having to suck in breaths to avoid whining like a virgin when you haven’t even touched skin yet. Your fingers were so delicate yet your grip on him was firm, working him over the cloth that covered his most sensitive area and toying with his leaking tip, letting a wet spot appear under the waistband of his boxers.

It was then that you popped his cock out, eyeing the veins that ran up and down his length, his nearly crimson tip, swollen in hopeless desire for release. His balls were so tight, you massaged them with one hand as the other started jerking him slowly, almost painfully. You brought your lips to his again, absorbing all of his whimpers in your mouth and kissing back with addiction.

He tasted sweet, his luscious lips and wet tongue saccharine on your tastebuds. He was so addictive. A man so flexible under your insatiable presence, you removed his glasses and pushed his bangs out of his face, beautiful chestnut brown eyes that looked at you with so much love and desire.

You lifted your hips, “I’m gonna put it in now, okay?”

He nodded intensely, eyes locked on yours with his brows barely pinched together when you teased his tip, running it between your slick and spreading your wetness all over. He was practically pleading you with his eyes, not able to say a word as he let you take the lead.

You sunk down on him slowly, letting him feel all of you and the way your tight walls stretched for his thickness so perfectly, it was like you were made for him.

“Ngh­- what is it- fuck- that we need to study?” You asked, breathless, dumbstruck when you bottomed out, his tip poking your cervix as you sat, unmoving.

He stilled for a moment, hesitating in the other-worldly pleasure your pussy offered. You broke him out of his spell when you skimmed your thumb lightly over his cheek, bringing his attention back to reality.

“I-integrals,” he spluttered. “You need to learn- mmh- integrals.”

You started moving your hips slowly mid-sentence, an unhurried tempo so you could watch how he breaks for you.

“Mmm, start explaining it.” You grabbed his hands that gripped the armrests of his chair, bringing them back to your ass, his grip tightening immediately, squeezing the fat firmly with his rough hands.

“Integrals are- hah- the opposite of- hngh-”

“Mhm? Opposite of?” You were sweating, willing yourself to keep a languid tempo and not fuck him how you wanted. He was a virgin after all, and one that was so smitten with you, you loved dragging it out, loved the attention he gave you.

“Th-they’re the opposite of- of derivatives,” his grasp on you only tightening, it was aching, throbbing inside you as you tenderly lowered your hips each time, slowly feeling him getting harder and harder, it was a battle with himself not to cry out.

You leaned in close, your hands cradling his face like he was some delicate artwork, “you’re so big inside me,” you brought your lips to his. He was in a total state of catatonia, your walls milking him with each descent, a puddle of your arousal and his pre drenching the curls at his base. “Aren’t you, Cho?”

You just held his face in your hands, he was so angelic when he was fucked out, bangs sticking to his forehead that you move out of the way for him, skimming your thumbs over his cheeks, a sheen of sweat coating his face.

“A-and,” he began, the grasp he had on your body frantic as he took in more of you, filling his palms with your curves and spreading you wide for him in attempt to feel more. He loved you so much in this moment, he wished he could live inside your skin. “They’re the- the total- mmpf- accumulation over an interval.”

“You’re so sexy when you- ugh- explain things,” you sped up the tempo slightly, just barely, but enough to heighten the carnality, enough to tighten the coil in your abdomen. “Give me an example.”

He was completely hunched over, his head resting on your shoulder as you worked your hips. He was barely able to form a coherent thought let alone do math.

“U-uh, an example?” He huffed out.

“Mhm, give me an example baby.”

“The integral of- haah- x is x squared over 2.” His face was contorted, lips sucked in, brows pinched tightly, nose scrunched as he wallowed in the pleasure, how you only seemed to get more wet the more time that passed, his multiple releases of pre making your entrance so slick, so easy for you to slide up and down his length.

“Cho,” you looked at him with big eyes, grasping his forearm. “Cum with me, touch me here,” you brought his hand to your clit, showing him a circling motion with his thumb.

“Here?” he asked breathlessly, almost jumping out of his skin at the thought of making you cum with his fingers and cock.

“Yes, mmm, just like that, more pressure,” you coached him.

His thumb was circling your clit now, adding the pressure that you pleaded for. His other hand rested lovingly at your back, and you bounced rapidly on him, your thighs slapping his with each fall of your hips. Your hands gripped his shoulders for support, his muscled physique flexing under you as he climbed closer to climax.

You both reach your breaking point at the same time, maintaining eye contact over clouded vision. Your walls milked him for all he had and more, body quivering as you bellowed deeply, all of the stress and tension leaving your body being stretched by his thick length, no choice but to hit your g-spot because of his size. He worked you through it, urgently rubbing you with his thumb while he squeezed his eyes shut, twitching violently inside you releasing his rich seed, no doubt entering your womb.

You both came down from your high together too, foreheads resting as you caught your breath, his dick refusing to go flaccid as you sat still on it.

“Cho,” you looked up at him, tears pricking your eyes and smudging your makeup. “I want to be with you,” you pleaded.

He looked at you so worryingly yet so tenderly, he put a hand at the back of your head, bringing you to his chest so he could hold you close.

“I want to be with you too.” He added.

-----

You took the final the next day, then found yourself sitting on Choso’s dorm room floor with the final grades one click away. Your finger hovered over the screen before finally tapping, the number appearing in bold.

38/100

Silence.

Choso, ever the supportive boyfriend, started gently, “it’s okay, babe, I’ll help you study next ti-”

“LET’S GOOO!” You shouted, pumping your fists in the air like you’d just won the lottery.

He flinched at your sudden outburst, staring at you like you’d completely lost your mind. “Wait, what?”

“I did better than last time!” You grinned, spinning to face him.

His brows lifted in disbelief, mouth opening then closing. You still failed terribly.

Before he could find the words, you launched yourself at him, arms wrapping around his neck. “You can still tutor me!”

He let out a small, helpless laugh, arms instinctively wrapping around your waist. He sighed, pressing his hands tighter.

“I’ll always tutor you.”

A/N: i'm just sitting here giggling at this because choso really is a horrible tutor. like reader girl already had no hopes, but he just let her ride him instead of studying the DAY BEFORE the final... but this is smut, and the integral of x is actually (x^2/2)+C

[zoieru]

Weirdly specific headcanons about the lads boys and your lip balm / chapstick ~

Xavier ~

'what's that smell? it...doesn't smell like shampoo usually does.'

he's cuddling on the sofa with you and lifts his head, hair a bit fluffed from where he was tucked into your neck and chest, and his light eyebrows draw in at the centre trying to work out where it comes from.

'smell? Mm...its probably my lipbalm, Xavier, here,'

he takes it when you grab it and give it to him, rolling it over in his fingers to read any writing around the edge, head resting back against you again. he takes off the lid and sniffs it, eyes widening slightly before smiling a touch.

'its nice. does it taste good?'

he sort of asks without thinking of the double entendre at first, but a second later he realises and his eyes hold a flicker of mischief as he brings his face closer, eyes flitting to your lips.

'i dont know, you tell me?'

then he's all up in your business, eyes closing as he brings his lips to yours almost exploratory as when you try a new snack.

'mmh, yes. I like it.'

'good'

you plant a soft little kiss on the end of his nose to a cute blink and blushed chuckle from him.

over the next few hours he keeps coming back to kiss you more pointedly, more often, to a raised eyebrow from you. he likes the feeling and smell of it on his lips, it makes them soft and makes him think of you.

'Xavier you can take it if you want, i have a spar-'

'I don't want one.'

'but...?'

He only wants the thin soft coating of it on his lips when it means he's kissed you recently.

Rafayel ~

once this man catches drift of your scented lip balms he is all over that shit. he'll insist on going to choose ones, buying too many since you cant try them at the store, and then pouts when you tell him you cant face trying on and wiping off like ten different lip balms just so he can smell and kiss you over and over to see which one is best.

youre sat on the bed, the fading sunlight shining through the domed windows of your shared bedroom and onto this ridiculous pile of little cylindrical tubes on the duvet.

'but...'

'the scents will mix, and anyway lip balm is supposed to be nourishing, not causing my lips to be sore because ive applied and scraped off loads of different ones'

'well how am i supposed to know which one is the best then?'

'you'll have to wait and see i guess, i can put a different one on at few hour intervals, itll be like a fun surprise, you can guess which one i have on!'

'thats tooo longggg'

later you catch him applying one on himself in the bathroom, he just couldnt wait okay!! when you do put one on, he materialises at your side, hands running over your skin and finding their way to your jaw as if he could sense it from the other room, and he tilts his head with a little cute smirk.

'next taste test? this one's going to be good, i can feel it.'

Zayne ~

'here,'

he hands you one that he picked off the shelf next to you as you perused the options.

'what, you like this one?'

'i'm not familiar with it, but its important to use ones with more natural ingredients, especially when applying to sensitive areas like your face and mouth.'

'mmh, makes sense.'

you buy a few different types at his behest, and then he watches you try them and smell them as he puts his stuff away around the house.

'do you like them?'

'this one smells really good, actually.'

'mh?'

he's at your side, finding himself strangely excited to have another scent to not only feel and smell when he kisses you, but also to associate with you like he does with your hair stuff or your perfume.

'it does, you're right.'

he takes your chin in his other hands fingers, his usually gentle but firm touch, and then runs his thumb featherlight across the edge of your bottom lip, dark eyelashes lowering slightly as his eyes seem to both soften and darken at the same time.

'does it taste just as good?'

Sylus ~

'get all of them'

'Sylus, there are like fifty options here, why would I need fifty lip balms?'

he just shrugs, that annoyingly handsome smirk on his face as he feigns nonchalance.

'just trying to be supportive, kitten. no need to scratch now.'

'being supportive would be you helping me pick one'

'mmh, would it now?'

he was waiting to be asked, he's irritating like that. you rolled your eyes subtly and couldnt help the smile off his face as he on cue started analysing the options on the shelf with a discerning critical eye. after a silence, you pause, and glance at him sidelong.

'so?'

he points to a few in succession, speaking in a slow thoughtful sort of drawl as he ponders, playful yet serious simultaneously. It's an important decision, of course.

'too sweet, too floral, too colourful, too...is that glitter? i thought this was supposed to be health related, not glamourous. though i suppose a mix of both might be alluring. mmh...this one'

he holds it out to you, made up his mind. not stating his reason outright obviously. he looks down at you and eyes flick between your face and his choice, very subtly figuring out your reaction to his choice. as you leave the shop after buying, and go to put on your helmet to get on his bike, his hand comes to rest on top of it, stopping its path, and he raises an eyebrow, cocking his head. You blink.

'hm?'

'well, come now, are you going to let me try the latest flavour of the lips i so often indulge in, or would you be cruel and have me wait?'

Caleb ~

so...lets say one day you're buying something completely unrelated, but you double take as your eyes happen to flit over some apple scented lip balm on the store shelf. You pause, nibble on your lip with a faint curl to the corners, and grab it and apply it on the way home. It's good...that apple scent that isnt too artificial or plasticky but also sweet and sharp enough to be noticeable and tasty.

Its hard to keep it in somehow when he gets home? its like a secret, which feels stupid, but he looks at you and raises a suspicious eyebrow.

'why you smilin', pips? what have you done?'

he asks, starting to laugh a bit at your face as you tried to keep it normal. it'll be like after a while where he wrestles you off the stove or something playfully that he'll catch a whiff. i mean he's obviously noticed your lips seem a touch shinier, but didn't think a whole lot of it except 'nice'.

'did you buy new perfume?'

'no...?'

'but...its appley over here, you got one in your ear or somethin'?'

he makes a point of sniffing around you like a dog as your giggling form is pressed back against the counter. then he pauses as his nose nears yours and a cheeky smile stretches across his face. his hand lifts and he runs the back of his fingers ever so softly over your bottom lip, his eyes following the movement.

'ah, bullseye. so this is what you were giggling about earlier, you're so silly pipsqueak,'

'what? why?!'

'who gets all giggly about lip balm hm?'

he tilts his head, still in teasy puppy mode, though his eyes have softened and darkened as his face has come closer. as you pout he pokes your lips again with a smirk.

'mmh, an apple flavoured pout huh?'

he leans in achingly slowly to kiss you.

Weirdly specific headcanons about the lads boys and your scrunchie

[eufezco]

bucky's sexual drive had been in negative numbers for so long.

it might be because of the antidepressants his therapist was prescribing. he’d read the side effects on the label, and decreased libido had been listed there in tiny, as if it were just another minor inconvenience—like dry mouth or dizziness. but he couldn't complain about that because he needed those pills, as much as he tried to deny it. they kept away the nightmares, the spirals... but they also kept away everything else. the desire, the excitement, the flicker of interest when someone laughed at his dry humor or looked at him like he was something more than a ghost of the past.

it might be because of him. relationships required energy, patience, trust—and he was still working on having that with himself. some nights he wondered if under all the layers of trauma and cold metal there was still a part of him capable of wanting the way he used to, back when things were simpler. back when he was just bucky barnes, before the war, before hydra, before all of it.

but bucky rather think that it was because he never met anyone like you before. of course he had met cute girls. kind, smart, even a few who had given him that lingering glance that invited something more. but it never quite clicked. not in the way it should. not in the way that it used to.

you were all of that.

kind, smart, you matched his dry humor, laughed at his dark jokes because you knew that was his way of copying, and you laughed in a genuine way, not with the awkward politeness others gave him. you also didn’t shy away from the scars, you didn't stare at his metal arm and make him feel like a freak, like he was beyond repair. you didn’t flinch when your fingers brushed against his cold metal hand.

and you were beautiful and so sexy. was he allowed to think that? because, god help him, he did.

sam always told him that he had a staring problem but with you? bucky was pretty sure you could call the cops on him for how much he stared. it wasn’t intentional—at least, not at first. but then the wind would catch your skirt, revealing just a few more inches of your leg, or you’d push your hair behind your ear, exposing the soft skin of your neck, or bite your lip when you were deep in thought, and suddenly, he was gone, swallowing hard and forcing himself to look away before his thoughts could betray him any further.

after a long day, bucky let himself fall onto the bed.

the second he was alone, he let out a big huff and ran his hands over his face, like that would somehow erase the thoughts running wild in his head. it didn’t. nothing could. because you were still there, burned into his mind. the way you had looked this evening—the way you always looked—had him all kinds of messed up.

the entire town had gathered at the harbor to celebrate that the boat was finally restored, thanks to him and sam. it had been a good day, a rare kind of day where he felt normal, not a soldier, not a weapon. and, of course, you had been there.

bucky had tried—really tried—to focus on everything else: the music, the food, the way the people clapped him on the back like he belonged. and then you had hugged him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world. his hands found your hips. he felt the soft curve of you beneath his touch, he inhaled the faint scent of whatever perfume you always wore and his brain short-circuited.

now, in his bed—the one he had bought only because you told him he could no longer sleep on the floor—bucky rubbed his face, trying to calm himself. the heat crept up the back of his neck, spreading down his spine. hours later, he could still feel the shape of you against his hands, the way your body pressed tight against his. the knot low in his stomach twisted and he felt his pants get tighter. fuck, he mumbled to himself.

bucky took a breath through his nose and moved his hands to palm himself through his jeans. his breath hitched, he was already so hard it hurt. it was pathetic.

he should feel ashamed for letting you—the thought of you—completely unravel him. but he didn't because, goddamn, the way you had looked today, the way you had smiled at him, the way your dress hugged your body in all the right places… his fingers found the buckle of his belt, hesitating for only a second before undoing it. it was too much for a man who had spent so long pretending he didn’t want. pretending he didn’t need.

bucky lowered his zipper. god, would he even remember how to do this? he had tried before, he had let his hand wander, hoping that maybe he could feel something again. but it never worked. his body never responded the way it should, his mind too lost in thoughts. but this time, when he slipped his hand inside his underwear, he exhaled sharply as his fingers wrapped around himself, his head tipped back against the pillow and his chest rose and fell slowly.

his eyes closed shut. that way it was easy to remember you dancing as the sun went down, the way you moved your hips, completely unaware of what you were doing to him as he stood there, beer in hand, watching you with a hunger he barely understood, much less controlled. the way your lips had parted slightly when your gaze met his, like maybe you knew, like maybe you wanted him just as badly as he wanted you.

his hand moved up and down his length, slow and deliberate. he felt the thick vein beneath his fingers, the way he pulsed into the warmth of his own palm. bucky tried to breath through his nose to stay quiet, biting his lip down, but his mouth parted and a shaky moan slipped free as he gave in.

he imagined your hands on him instead of his own, your fingers tracing down his stomach and wrapping around him with a softness he hadn’t felt in years. he imagined your voice whispering his name like a prayer and what it would feel like to have your lips against his.

fuck, he was so sensitive. his hips lifted from the bed as his hand moved faster, his grip tightened and his breath came in sharp, uneven pants. his mind was completely lost in the pleasure, it had been decades since he had felt something like this. the years in hydra, the years in wakanda, the years he’d been blipped, he didn’t even think he’d have enough peace to search for pleasure.

but now you were in his life.

his hips continued lifting from the mattress, his body desperate for more. his muscles tensed, his stomach getting tight, tighter— his metal arm reached out blindly, grasping for something to quiet himself. his fingers found the pillow beside him, and he pulled it close, pressing it against his mouth in a desperate attempt to muffle his moans.

he was close. too close.

bucky squirmed on the bed, his body caught between the pleasure and the overwhelming sensitivity. his hips jerked as he attempted to escape his own hand, but his body had other plans—chasing the friction even as it made him shudder.

his head pressed back into the pillow, his entire body shaking as he came with a loud moan against the pillow, and the only name on his lips was yours.

the next few seconds, bucky tried to catch his breath. he dropped the pillow that he used to cover his mouth, his chest rose and fell slowly. he dragged his metal hand over his face, the other one still inside his jeans, fingers sticky. god, he came in his pants. he swallowed hard, his jaw clenching as he used his cold metal fingers so massage his temples.

even now, when his body still felt too sensitive, his mind still hazy—he couldn't stop thinking about you. with your laugh, your kindness, your stupid little smirk whenever you caught him staring—because sam was right, he did have a staring problem. but how could he not?

bucky let out a sharp breath and forced himself to move to clean up. he had no idea how the hell he was supposed to look you in the eyes tomorrow after your name broke from his lips when the first orgasm in years hit him.

[pomegranate-theater]

Hello 👋 hope you are well!

I just wanted to know if, by any chance, you will be making another part of " what yandere them do (to you) after catching you in the act of masturbating." For other hsr men? ( Especially for Aventurine? I'm a big sucker for him >.< )

➤𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒖𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆 — what yandere them do (to you) after catching you in the act of masturbating. [part one with other characters]

aventurine, mydei, anaxa, argenti.

contents: afab reader, dub-con/non-con, yandere, forced relationship, masturbation, coercion, rough sex, aphrodisiacs, condescending talk, one thigh slap, fingering, squirting, oral—reader receiving. not suitable for minors.

note: i hope you are well too!

AVENTURINE

That spacious penthouse of Aventurine’s, somehow, did nothing to muffle the sounds of the vibrations of your fancy electric toothbrush that you have sneaked into your room — purchased by no one else by Aventurine, along flossers, making sure your dental hygiene stays on top even in the enclosed environment. Or maybe, you were so paranoid your hearing was overly sensitized.

You’ll have to replace the head of the toothbrush once you’re done with torturing your clit — doing the latter through the panties as the friction of the toothbrush’s hair scared you — but your only concern at the moment was not getting caught by the gambler. Should you have chosen to touch yourself while he’s at work, you’d have not so much worry; however, you were so pent up from stress today you couldn’t do anything else than keep the toothbrush under the blanket.

A device so expensive, how come was it so loud? It was getting hot too, you were scared it’d explode, as the motor being pressed too hard couldn’t rotate with its furious speed freely. Once it grew scorching in its temperature, you suddenly threw it away on the wooden floor, your heart beating like crazy from the fact you could have gotten seriously burned. Unfortunately, not only was the impact loud, the toothbrush was now able to release volume as it pleased; soon to expose your naughty behavior.

You were right, as a few moments later, the door was opened by no other than Aventurine himself. He picked up the toothbrush and turned it off before you could get up and hide it. “Friend, if I have known you were so desperate, I would have bought you a real vibrator… not force to you use an impromptu version,” he teased, despite the surprise (and his own arousal) at having witnessed the proof of you masturbating.

You, speechless, had your own brain fried by the sudden confrontation. You were well aware how easily Aventurine was capable of turning gained knowledge into his power against you, so your panic wasn’t even about your oppressor knowing you were doing what every other human does.

“Doesn’t it hurt and all?” he teased again.

“Give it back, Aventurine!” you demanded, both embarrassed and petrified.

“Nah, you need to relax, friend. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about… and that toothbrush needs to be replaced, anyway,” he shrugged off and threw the cleaning tool into your desk bin. “So overpriced if so loud for how much money I’ve spent on it… you’ve allowed me to find out.”

“Now,” he approached, not letting you to mourn your toothbrush’s loss for too long, “It seems you need a bit of help, don’t you?”

You crawled back on bed, nervous about his attention. “I… don’t, leave me alone, Aventurine.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be so shy.”

Suddenly, you were being pinned down under him, your wrists above your head — he has had enough to learn you’d fight him too much, a stubborn thing you were.

“I can give you something much better, you know,” he said, drawing his voice to be a perfect, smooth tone — one that got you going involuntarily to you. The juxtaposition of what your mind said and body wanted left you frozen in spot.

“I mean, as long as you ask, of course,” he added, his tone innocent, but you knew better. Even if his offer is not something you wanted, asking him would be proving against that; therefore painting you as a person who wanted this so you could never accuse him of anything. He was a sly and intelligent bastard, who knew how to play his cards against you… and your lately desperate body.

“N-no… I don’t want anything from you, so get off of me!” you protested, and fell quiet when he ground his crotch against yours. His bulge was hard already, and it stimulated your still puffed clit perfectly. You whimpered, and he with one hand still holding yours, slipped his other one under your underwear to circle on your clit. “S-stop…” you cried out.

“Come on, it’s so easy to say ‘please’, isn’t it?” he said seductively. His finger, while it pleased your bundle of nerves, it pleasured this way too slowly to be satisfying — on purpose. And you couldn’t last being denied anymore.

“Please,” you choked out quietly; regardless of the volume, enough for a man like him to accuse you as guilty. “See?” his voice darkened, as he sped up the ministrations. “All you need to do is ask.” As if it was ever that easy with him.

MYDEI

Mydeimos was considered one of most good looking people in Amphoreus for a reason. That stupid, meaty, strong body; with a handsome face and beautiful hair. Out of all he could have, ironically, it was the most unwilling person that he wanted — you. And you believed yourself to be most immune to him, fueled by rage and hate towards him for keeping you with him against your will for “protection purposes”.

Or so you have used to. Because recently, his body was the only thing on your mind; the obsession made to be worse when he held you against him, whether it was at day or night as he was bare-chested anyway. Not that you’d let him know — if he didn’t notice already, that is.

You were a victim of your own desires, desires towards him, whether they were out of genuine attraction or forced attachment — as now, you were driving his hairbrush’s handle into yourself. It wasn’t even comfortable to use, the rough edges almost hurt, but you couldn’t find anything better. It’s not as if you could casually ask Mydei to buy a sex toy.

The position of your self-sex was awkward too — you were on your fours, arching your arm behind your pussy to thrust the brush inside; in resemblance of a sex position as a feigned sex. Your arm hurt, the pleasure wasn’t even that good, so you could only grow in your frustration.

“What a ridiculous thing did you come up with?” a rough voice scared you, and you froze from dread. Mydei has caught you not only masturbating, but also doing this with his hairbrush. There was not a single way you could explain yourself.

Staying like this was humiliating and yet, pulling it out the hairbrush in front of him would be humiliating too; so you remained an ice sculpture. It had to be Mydei to take the next step, himself very flustered by the shocking discovery, and take out the handle from your pussy; now wet with your juices. The brush was thrown somewhere on the floor; however, as you tried to get up, his hand kept you pinned in the position.

“M-Mydei?” you asked in anxiety, worried by the prolonged exposure he chose to keep you in. Your stomach dropped when you heard the shuffling sound of his pants being pulled down.

Mydei didn’t acknowledge yours words — instead, he said something worrying, “If I had known how bad is your pull towards me, I would have spared you of this misery a long time ago.” He assumed you must have needed him if it was his item you used on yourself.

You weren’t given much time to comprehend the implication; only could scream as he suddenly filled you up with something much bigger, warmer and better — his cock. Your upper body fell downward, and your knees you stayed on trembled as he started to roughly fuck you from behind — finally relieving both you, and himself who’s been waiting for you for months.

“Mydei!” you gasped as he deepened his thrusts. Everything has happened so fast, too fast, you now could only focus on the quickly arising pleasure.

“Please forgive me for the delay,” he grunted, his hands holding onto your hips with a bruising force. “I should have known I don’t even need to ask you, only act and fuck you.”

“But don’t worry,” he leaned over your body, the heavy weight holding you down, and licked your neck, “We will catch up with what we have missed.” The promise was made, and you wouldn’t have much mercy for the rest of the night.

ANAXA

Something has been wrong with your body for days counted. Hot, irritated, throbbing feeling between your legs followed you every moment. You believed you had a fever, at first, especially with how dizzy you were; but you found out you were feeling much better when giving yourself a sexual relief. Albeit, the comfort was only momentarily, before it’d grow to pesky levels in just few hours, keeping the cycle on the loop.

Today was no different — pumping fingers into your relaxed and incredibly wet pussy, not given any respite from arousal, with occasional intrusion of thoughts about Anaxa to help you reach ecstasy faster. It was only when you were out of this mad state that you’d care about the consequences of letting this man rule your body and mind — when in heat like this, you could only imagine his gentle hands, taunting tone, and him scolding you for being so naughty.

“Anaxagoras, don’t tease me…” you mewled out for yourself and the fantasy you’ve created, barely capable of pronouncing a longer name. “I can’t… it’s too much…!”

“I can see that,” he replied, and you fingered yourself much harder. “Then…” you pleaded, and then you were silent, and then you realized it wasn’t your delirious brain. However, you could only look up at him with a limp motion, not as startled by his presence as you should be — the result of your feverish state.

“You… shouldn’t,” you couldn’t even finish your sentence, too dumb.

“I shouldn’t enter your room when you are so busy, you meant to say? But dear, the door was never closed in the first place, so it’s as if you were suggesting I should come inside and witness this debauchery for myself…” he informed, the untroubled voice making you somehow more aroused.

You shook your head, still using your fingers, no matter if with more hesitation — you were too deep into your crisis to even consider stopping. “I didn’t… I forgot… please, I can’t…”

“Such an impotent thing you’ve become. Can’t do anything, not without my help…” he sighed, as if dealing with a lost cause of a scholar only he could smarten up.

Your stomach and pussy fluttered when he approached, and you shamelessly spread your legs for him to find a spot between. “Truly indecorous,” he scolded, and you moaned.

“Is that what can feed this wanton creature?” he inquired, almost coldly, as he shoved out your fingers and re-filled your pussy with his own — two, not thrusting but rubbing a spot with fingertips.

“Ah!” you yelled, as he hit a point unknown to you, one you thought of as unreachable, and something big was approaching— much, much more terrible than a typical orgasm.

“No, stop, something’s wrong!” you cried out, trying to shut your legs; but he slapped your thigh. “Let it go. Only then we’ll think of better ways of treating your ailments,” he ordered.

As your orgasm hit you, it arrived with a splash of liquids, staining you, him, and the bed. The screams didn’t cover the sloshing sound, and you fell into spasms as you were coming down.

“Seems I was right. The aphrodisiac works wonderfully. You’ve given me enough material for a research in how I can punish that disobedient thing you’ve been becoming lately.”

“The downside is you can’t rest easily until I fuck the product out of you, but that could be interpreted as a benefit itself, hm?”

You could have only shudder as he started to unclothe himself.

ARGENTI

Humping your own hand while the other held Argenti’s blanket smelling like roses for sure didn’t make you feel any good about your own conscience. You could never let this man know that you were using an everyday item of his to pleasure yourself, especially after your latest fits of anger at him that would expose your fraudulent perception of him.

You felt patronized, overly coddled and like a child when living with him — how can a man who has forced you to be with him could be so gentle, contradictory to the cruelty behind the capture? And yet, same gentleness oftentimes spoke to you against your will, making you feel loved and appreciated, which translated into physical desire.

“My beautiful rose, I am back!” the handsome voice announced, opening the door to your small house you were currently staying at. Unfortunately, the arrangement of the cottage didn’t really have separate spaces, so he’d see you on the floor from the inside immediately. You both became stunned: you — at his return much earlier than promised, him — at your current predicament.

“Is that… my blanket?” he inquired with a nervous tone.

Your mouth opened and it closed, with you having nothing to defend yourself with. As tears of humiliation build up in your precious eyes, Argenti was quick to step forward with an apologetic smile. “No, no, it’s alright. I’m not mad at you.” He wiped your tears and kissed your cheek. As he did, you noticed how aroused he himself was when his elated breath hit your skin.

“Except, you should allow me to relieve you of your torment I can see in you.” Your eyes bulged in surprise, and before you could oppose his words, Argenti was helping you up, and he settled himself down between your legs. Being on his knees for you and not Idrila herself caused a hesitation within him accusing him of treason; until he excused himself by telling himself he saw you two differently.

“Argenti, what are you—“ “Ssh. As I’ve said, it’s alright,” he reassured, and was lapping at your still wet pussy. Your hand found purchase in his red hair, tugging, as you tried to fight the sudden sensation.

“Wait—“ But your protest were left l only for the air to hear, as he pleasured you diligently.

“I cannot help but be thankful for this opportunity,” he murmured against your thigh his hand gently stroked. Unstripped of his armor suit for the time when he’s been venturing outside, he looked more beautiful than ever. “Furthermore, I see myself as ashamed of being so… immodest in my behavior, craving you like this…” he said, self-deprecating himself, “I hope you can forgive me and see my actions as a worship instead.”

“Just… shut up, Argenti,” you scolded, and humped his face. He moaned, drinking from you eagerly, and his gentle hands fondled soft flesh of your behind.

“Anything you ask for, beloved,” he promised, an oath he’d never break, before his tongue slipped into your hole, ultimately silencing him.

[moonstruckme]

omgomg can i request wolfstar or any of the marauders (literally so excited j leave it up to u) with a reader who faints when she sees blood? I have severe blood phobia and i hate feeling lightheaded but it's kinda funny if u think about it... have a great day ❤️

Thanks for requesting lovely <3

cw: blood, fainting, Sirius on a power trip (everyone's worst nightmare I think)

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 968 words

You watch Remus look down on the onion with concentrated, dry eyes. “I don’t know how you can do that,” you say, mystified.

“He’s a freak of nature,” Sirius says. 

“Even when I cut along the lines, like you’re supposed to…” You brush a knuckle underneath your lashes, catching the residual wetness from when you’d attempted what Remus is doing so easily. “Maybe you are a freak of nature.” 

Remus is more than a little smug. “Maybe my eyes are just better than yours.” 

“No, that can’t be it…” 

“Cut your tomatoes, love,” he teases. “Those won’t hurt you.” 

You scoff, grabbing the serrated knife from the knife block. In the second your back is turned, you hear Remus’ knife hit the cutting board funny. 

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Bollocks.” 

“Ha!” Sirius cries triumphantly, though he moves closer to ensure Remus is okay. “Who’s the pro onion chopper now? What’d you do to yourself, let me see.” 

Remus rolls his eyes but gives his hand over to Sirius’ care. Your boyfriend coos, pulling him closer to the sink and turning on the tap. 

You hear more than see yourself stumble, your feet clumsy on the tile floor. Remus’ gaze snaps to you. You feel suddenly very warm. 

Remus says something, you think, but it’s lost to the rushing in your ears. Blood drips from his hand into the sink. You watch it turn pink as it swirls into the drain.

You stumble again. 

---

“What did you think shouting at her was going to do?” 

“I don’t know!” There’s a hand on your cheek, tapping insistently. “This is your fault anyway, get a plaster on that. Or just wrap it up for now, we’ll deal with it after.”  

“Your concern is touching.” 

A sigh. “I’ll kiss it better in a minute, darling, but I’m somewhat occupied right now.” More tapping. “Hey, open your eyes, baby. Come on, I can see you twitching.” 

“Did she hit her head?” 

“I don’t think so. Just give her a second, yeah?” 

With effort, you lift your weighted eyelids. Sirius stops tapping. His thumb strokes down your cheek instead. 

“Hey.” He smiles, concern lingering at the corners. “In the future, I think we’d all appreciate a bit of warning before you drop like a bag of rocks. Okay?” 

Your voice comes out quiet and wispy. “I’ll try.” 

Sirius’ grin widens. “Attagirl.” 

“I think you’re supposed to lift her legs,” Remus frets from somewhere you can’t see him. You try, but Sirius puts his hand under your chin, tilting your head back up. 

“You can lift them once you’re cleaned up,” he says lightly. “Eyes on me, sweetness. Rem needs to stop bleeding before you two can resume gazing lovingly at each other, I’m afraid.” 

“Are you okay?” you ask the ceiling. 

“Fine, love. It’s just a cut.” 

Your voice wavers. “It looked like it was bleeding a lot.” 

“It was, but it’s shallow,” Sirius reassures you. He gives you an easy smile, thumb stroking a short line from the corner of your mouth to your chin. “You know our Moony, he loves to make a spectacle of himself.” 

You manage a little smile. “Sounds like him.” 

Remus makes a sound like a laugh that’s trying to be a sigh. Your ankles lift up off the floor, and Sirius finally allows you to look down, where you find your boyfriend with a paper towel wrapped around his hand. 

“Why is it that even when I’m hurt, you’re both still ganging up on me?” he asks. “Does your head feel alright?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe. You feel yourself frown as you look at his hand. Hoping you won’t see more blood, fearing you will, worry keeping your gaze trapped either way. “Are you hurt?” 

Remus visibly softens. “No. I’m fine, sweetheart. How do you feel?” 

“I’m okay, really. I think it just surprised me.” 

“Do you realize how full my hands are with the two of you?” Sirius asks, fondness obvious in his agitated tone. “You fainting, you bleeding all over the place—I mean, Christ, how’s a man to make supper?” 

You let your eyes shut for a moment. Truthfully, you still feel a bit odd. You know it’ll pass soon. “I’ll cut the onions next time,” you say. 

“That might be best,” he says. “I hate to do it to you, sweetness, but lesser of two evils and all that.” 

“I am still perfectly capable—” Remus tries to say, but Sirius cuts him off. 

“Hush, you. Go wait in the bathroom, I’ll come take care of you in a minute.” 

Remus does not go to the bathroom. He stages his rebellion silently, rolling his eyes as he stays put. 

“Do you really feel alright?” Sirius asks you. 

You hum. “Yeah. I mean, I’m…” You nod your head from side to side. “You know.” 

His eyebrows raise amusedly. Remus chuffs out a laugh. “Course I do, babe. I know exactly what you mean. Care to elaborate for Remus, though?” 

“I’m okay.” 

Sirius waits a moment for you to say more. When you don’t, he nods, taking this in stride. “Do you think if I help, you can get over to the couch to lie there for a while? Just until I finish tending to our wounded soldier over here.” 

“It’s just a scratch,” Remus insists, exasperated, but he lowers your feet back to the ground so Sirius can help you up. “I don’t need help with it, really, it—oh, bollocks.” 

Sirius shields your eyes with his hand before you can see what the fuss is about. “Get another towel and go wait in the bathroom,” he tells Remus firmly, helping you stand. He half drags you towards the couch as you hear Remus’ cursing move down the hall. “God, always the dramatics with the two of you. Honestly.” 

[darkmatilda]

𝐜𝐨𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: spencer genuinely can't believe that you're being kind to him. and you—well, you weren’t ashamed to admit that seeing him with the child had just a little melted your heart.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x diva!chemist reader, a very fleeting mention of the babysitter kidnapper, but other than that, the fluffiest shit ive ever written (don't get used to it) (love them so much shshaha its unhealthy) (spencer performing MAGIC TRICK!)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 2.3k

𝐚/𝐧: requested by lovely @ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat love you so much you have no idea

The yellow Ford Falcon XB was reaching its record speed, slicing through the racetrack like a released arrow, emitting that signature mechanical growl and drawing dozens of captivated gazes.

At least, that’s how it looked through the eyes of a six-year-old.

Through Spencer’s eyes, it was just a toy car being pushed across the wooden surface of the table by a small hand.

The boy’s brown hair nearly touched his shoulders, and he wore a blue soccer jersey with a number on the back. His gaze wasn’t curiously darting around the office where they were alone—it was fixed solely on his favorite toy.

Reid watched him in silence for a moment, letting him play in peace before starting the conversation he, unfortunately, had to initiate.

For some time now, they had been working on a case involving the abduction of babysitters—each disappearing while on the job, vanishing after leaving the house with the children they were watching. Whether heading to the park, the playground, or a store, that was the only variable. The rest of the details were so methodical, so patterned, that there was no doubt they were dealing with a serial offender.

"Liam," he began, drawing the boy’s green eyes to him.

Spencer didn’t feel comfortable in this role. He never considered himself particularly gifted when it came to interacting with children—which was strange, considering everyone around him seemed to think otherwise. Especially since the arrival of his godson, Henry, had given him more opportunities for it.

"My name is Spencer, and…I’d like to talk to you for a moment."

He paused. The boy's face took on an odd expression; he didn’t respond, just looked at him with a certain shyness. Spencer hesitated, opening his mouth only to close it again.

All the previous babysitters had been taken the moment they looked away, leaving the children alone. From a child’s perspective, it must have been confusing. One moment, their beloved babysitter was with them, and the next, uniformed officers arrived, whisking them away to a place where more strange adults asked them strange but gentle questions.

For example, if they saw anything strange.

Strange? The children never really understood what that meant. After all, they had just been playing at the park like they did every afternoon. What could possibly be strange about that?

Spencer sighed. He didn’t want to bombard the boy with questions that would, at best, earn him a nod or a shake of the head. If he wanted answers—testimony (though the word felt absurd when referring to a six-year-old)—he’d have to take a different approach. He needed Liam to open up naturally. Even if it took a little longer.

"Is that a Falcon XB?" he asked, deliberately exaggerating his interest as he nodded toward the toy car teetering at the edge of the table. He moved around to take a seat beside the boy, slouching slightly. It always seemed easier to talk to kids when they were at the same eye level. "Can I see it?"

Liam stared at him for a moment before nodding.

Spencer carefully picked up the toy. His hesitation wasn’t just about earning the boy’s trust—though that was important. No, the real reason for his reluctance was the fact that, just five minutes ago, he had watched Liam absentmindedly shove the car into his mouth, biting down on its yellow surface.

"It’s really cool. Is it your favorite?" he asked, trying to push aside the thought of bacteria. The countless, countless bacteria.

There are an estimated 700 different species living in the human mouth…

Liam nodded again.

Focus, Reid. Cars, not bacteria.

"Did you know the original Falcon XB had an engine that let it reach over 220 kilometers per hour? It was so popular in Australia that the police used it for high-speed chases."

The boy studied him in silence for a moment, but Spencer could tell he had his attention.

“So…it’s a police car? Why doesn’t it have a siren?”

“The ones used by the police did," Spencer explained. "They also had lights on the roof so they could chase criminals. You know, yours might not have them because…”—he lowered his voice—“…it’s actually a secret police car.”

Liam frowned, clearly not following. “A secret police car?”

Spencer nodded.

“Used for undercover missions,” he continued. The boy’s full attention was locked onto him now—he must’ve hit on something that really fascinated him. “By secret agents, so they wouldn’t be noticed. And when they really need to…”

He glanced at Liam out of the corner of his eye, making sure the boy was still watching him closely. Once he was sure he had him hooked, Spencer clasped his hands together, concealing the Hot Wheels car between them. He held them still for a moment, letting the anticipation build.

Then, finally, he pulled them apart—revealing nothing but empty palms.

“…it disappears.”

  The boy’s mouth fell open in amazement, gasping. Spencer couldn’t help but smile at the sight, even though, to him, it was nothing impressive. He had done this trick hundreds of times—it was so simple. And yet, there was something oddly satisfying about watching the boy’s reaction, seeing how intently he studied Spencer’s hands, completely baffled by the disappearance of his toy.

Then suddenly, in the middle of it all, Spencer felt someone watching him.

He shifted his gaze toward the doorway, toward the figure standing in the threshold—the sight of whom caused his smile to falter. Not out of displeasure, but more out of surprise. And it wasn’t just her presence that caught him off guard. Lately, they had been running into each other in the most unexpected situations, to the point where he was starting to get used to it. What he wasn’t used to was the expression on her face.

By now, he had memorized the looks she most often wore around him—irritation, sarcasm, playful exasperation. But the way her head tilted slightly to the side, the faint curve at the corner of her lips, and the softness in her eyes didn’t fit into any of those categories. 

 Spencer felt his shoulders tense. He wasn’t sure if he had always been this paranoid or if it was a newly acquired trait—maybe one tied specifically to her—but a sense of unease settled over him. Before standing up to approach her and find out what she wanted, he cleared his throat and turned back to Liam one last time. He placed his hand behind the boy’s ear, pulling out the toy car as if it had been hidden there all along.

“I’ll be back in a moment, alright?” he informed him.

The boy didn’t even look at him, completely engrossed in examining the car from every angle, as if truly believing it could vanish on command. Spencer found himself smiling again. But that expression faded entirely when he stepped closer to the woman leaning against the doorframe. She shifted slightly backward into the hallway—probably to keep their conversation out of the child’s earshot.

“You know,” she started before he could say anything, raising her eyebrows slightly.

She lifted something in her hand—something Spencer hadn’t even noticed before, too focused on analyzing the look on her face. That suspicious look on her face. It was a plastic box of crayons.

“When JJ ran into me in the hallway, shoving this into my hands and begging me to find Spence and give it to him, I was a little confused. But now I get it.”

She nodded toward the boy.

Spencer instinctively followed her gaze, mirroring its path. At the same time, she shoved the box of crayons into his hands. Caught off guard, he had to grip it tightly to keep from dropping it. She then crossed her arms over her chest.

He glanced at her face once more and suddenly sighed, finally realizing what this meant.

“Oh, well, let me guess,” he began, rolling his eyes upward. “Because you had to deliver this to me, you now expect something in return. And you won’t tell me what, you’ll just keep me in suspense for the next few weeks, casually reminding me that I owe you, until eventually, you demand something absolutely ridiculous.”

He spoke with confidence, convinced of his theory. But as a prolonged silence settled between them, he started to doubt it. Especially when she averted her gaze for a moment.

Someone might think she was crafting a particularly sharp retort—he himself considered it for a second—until he realized she never needed time to think of a comeback. When talking to him, they rolled off her tongue at machine-gun speed.

Another brief glance toward the boy.

"This is about the case with the kidnapped babysitters, isn’t it?" she asked, completely ignoring his entire speech. "I heard something about it. The kid—he's okay?"

Spencer didn't hide his surprise at the question. It took him a moment to realize that it was completely natural in this situation—almost anyone would have asked it. Maybe it was just the rare trace of concern in her voice that caught him off guard.

“Um… yeah…yeah, he's okay,” he stammered, his tongue suddenly twisting over the words. He had no idea why. He shook his head slightly, trying to clear the strange fog in his brain.

“I mean, I was just about to talk to him, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t see anything. Same as in the previous cases. This unsub doesn’t…doesn’t hurt kids.” Suddenly, he became aware of the weight of the crayons in his hands, remembering them again. He added, “And, uh, thanks for this. When we work with kids, we often give them paper and crayons. Sometimes it’s easier for them to draw something than to say it out loud.”

She let out a sound—a hum—suggesting that she understood.

He caught himself mentally keeping track of time. They were probably breaking a record for how long they had gone without arguing. Or at least without one of them slipping in a tiny jab at the other.

He was experiencing so-called cognitive dissonance.

“So, they stuck you with babysitting duty today?” she asked. Before he could respond, she let out a quiet snort. “Well, no surprise there.”

“What do you mean?” Spencer frowned. “By the way, this isn’t a common thing. I’m not particularly good with kids. Usually, they assign someone else for this, like—”

“I’m not particularly good with kids,” she repeated, her voice laced with mockery.

Oh. So they were back to their usual dynamic.

“Congratulations. You heard me correctly.”

“I know I did,” she shot back, sharper this time. “I just don’t agree. I watched you two for a moment. You are good with kids. Didn’t you see how excited he was when you did that trick?”

“He was just surprised. I made his toy disappear.”

“Which doesn’t change the fact that he’s a kid whose babysitter was just…” She mouthed the word kidnapped, only her lips forming the shape of it. “Something he might not fully grasp, but still—he was taken to a completely unfamiliar place, away from his parents. And instead of being terrified, he’s calm, even fascinated by what you showed him. So, like I said, you are good with kids.”

Spencer listened to her explanation, an odd feeling creeping over him. A kind of uncertainty, like she couldn’t possibly be talking about him. He almost wanted to turn around, check if someone was standing behind him, if the words were meant for someone else. But he didn’t—because, strangely, even moving felt difficult at that moment.

“Anyway,” she murmured suddenly, breaking the prolonged silence between them. “I’ve got to go. And don’t worry, you don’t owe me anything this time. I’ll let you off the hook—just this once.”

Before she left, she focused on his face one last time. That strange expression was still there—the same one from the beginning of their conversation, the one that had thrown him into cognitive dissonance. That strange expression that, maybe, was… something kind?

He returned to Liam, so lost in thought that he hadn’t even noticed the boy watching him for quite some time. He gave a small nod, pulling himself back to reality, back to the case at hand.

“She’s your friend?” Liam asked, his gaze drifting to where the woman had just been standing.

Spencer set the box of crayons down on the table, within the boy’s reach. He considered the question for a moment. He decided, however, that a six-year-old didn’t need the complicated details of their relationship.

“Yes.”

A brief silence followed his—well, lie.

“Really pretty.”

Laughter gathered in his chest. It was, in its own way, charming—the infatuation hidden in his shy words.

"Yes," he nodded gently. "I mean, she knows that” 

"Because you told her?"

He hesitated at those words, genuinely unsure of what to say. Fortunately, the boy wasn’t waiting for an answer. For a moment, his green eyes locked onto the toy car still sitting on the table, then back to Spencer, full of silent request.

"Can you teach me that trick?"

*

"Okay, buddy. Don’t stress. You’ve got this. Good luck."

Spencer patted the boy on the back. Liam gave a small nod, as if gathering courage, then hesitantly made his way toward the woman.

At the sight of a child suddenly at her feet, her eyebrows lifted high. She crouched down, asking him something in a soft voice.

Liam held out both fists, the yellow toy barely fitting in one of them. It was obvious where it was hidden, yet the woman pretended to consider her choice carefully before pointing at one hand.

Proud of himself, he revealed both empty palms—then pulled the toy car from behind her ear.

Her lips stretched into a wide smile, exaggerated in surprise. Then, she sought out his gaze, holding it for a lingering moment—just long enough for Spencer to realize he was smiling too.

[saltierstumpierman]

in celebration of voltron somehow trending again, here's a list of my fav vld fics that i've collected over the years:

Other by Tango Dancer | 11k | Klance

Alfonso watches his brother break down, alone on the porch at night, listening to a nameless person’s steady heartbeat. He watches, and he feels resentment stir into his gut, against the universe who took away his little brother and gave back this broken parody of him. Against himself, for not having stopped it somehow. Against Voltron for choosing him, and the empire for starting this war in the first place. And against this mysterious person, for keeping an essential part of his brother’s soul with them, and making it impossible for him to be happy with them the way it used to be. The way it should be. OR Lance's family struggle to come to terms with the man their son and brother has become.

genuinely my favorite fanfiction ever. the impression this fic has left on me... i regularly think back on the scenes in this fic and have to search for it again. i adore outsider POVs and how to tell a story without over-explaining to readers.

i want your heaven and your oceans too by mothpoem | 11k | Klance

“Not—not that you’d be my rebound! I mean, you’d be helping me take my mind off of this guy, but to be a rebound, I’d have to have dated him first, I think, and he doesn’t even know I like him, so. You wouldn’t be a rebound. At worst, we become badass partners-in-crime with a grudging respect for each other, at best, we’re soulmates for life and this is fate trying to help us find happiness. So. Um.” Lance swallows and looks up at the Blade of Marmora soldier through his lashes. “What say you?” They look down at their hands for a moment, fingers twisting together in deep thought. Then they’re pulling their gloves off, revealing pale, half-bruised knuckles of the human variation, and their mask is dissolving, giving way to big blue-purple eyes and an achingly familiar jet-black cowlick. “Who,” says Keith Kogane, in that low-pitched rumble that makes Lance’s stomach roil in the good way—holy fuck—“is this guy you’re trying to get over?”

i love mission fics, I love s4 era klance, and I fucking love love love identity shenanigans. love this fic to death and always come back to it when the VLD demon rears its head.

tell me again, do you love me? by hiuythn | 6k | Klance

If it were anybody else, Lance would think they’re messing with him for fun. But Keith is Keith, straight-forward and guileless. If he’s touching Lance more, it’s only because he’s gotten more comfortable. And on one hand, that’s great, that’s—Lance feels very honored. His heart is doing backflips and aerial stunts and everything. On the other, this is really not helping with his raging crush. His breaking point turns out to be when Keith, exhausted after a day of subspace meetings, drops his head onto Lance’s shoulder and sighs. It’s a sigh that says, now I’m comfortable, that admits, I’m recharging, that practically screams, you help. Hands in his pockets, he lets Lance bear his weight as if he trusts Lance to handle it. Great. That’s just—how dare he. How dare he be so vulnerable with Lance? Who does that? It’s so enraging that Lance just blurts out, “I’m going to need you to stop doing this before I fall in love with you even more, asshole.” Keith freezes. - Or, five times Lance acknowledges his feelings for Keith and one time Keith reciprocates.

hiuythn is one of my fav ao3 writers in general, but this fic fits a very particular niche in my heart. highly suggest if u enjoy reluctant acceptance with a mix of obliviousness.

just come to me once by laallomri | 94k | Klance

Lance’s smile widens. He leans forward, and the prickling in Keith’s chest gives way to butterflies, fluttering wildly in his stomach, and oh wow has Lance always had this many freckles, has he always had eyelashes that long, has he— Lance pokes his cheek, right over the Galra mark. Keith blinks. “I can’t believe you and your mom have matching face tattoos now,” he says, and it’s so fucking dumb, but it’s exactly the kind of dumb thing Keith has longed to hear, and before he knows what he’s doing he’s surging forward, almost knocking Lance back against Red’s paw, and throwing his arms around him. In which Keith lives on a space whale, goes on a road trip, and (eventually) gets a boyfriend.

ik the word count is intimidating compared to the rest in this list but i cannot over-emphasize to try this fic at least once. laallomri is another classic ao3 writer and i've been glued to their page since vld was actively releasing. much much love for their works <33

No, I Could Never Fake It by 2towels | 9k | Klance

Keith nods just slightly in his hands, so Lance believes he’s been given permission and leans forward to press a fleeting kiss to his lips. In the back of his head he hopes it’s the best kiss Keith has ever had, but he’s quickly distracted by the hand fisting in the front of his shirt and forcing him a few inches back. “Oh my god, you were right.” Pidge groans, rubbing her face. Shiro looks a little stunned at the display, and maybe a little guilty, like he should have realized Lance’s mistake before it steamrolled into Keith’s discomfort—but Keith, himself, is wearing a very neutral expression. He licks his lips, and Lance is distracted by it a moment, even if it was a very plain kiss that he shouldn’t be distracted by. “See?” Keith says, tearing his eyes away and looking to Shiro, “We’re great actors.” -- Five kisses Lance doesn't count, and one he does.

FANTASTIC! no notes. just go read it. wonderful wonderful wonderful, it still gives me butterflies every time i read it.

A Light In The Dark by usernicole | 19k | Klance

Far away from his friends at the castle, Keith's only way of communicating with them is a battered old phone. This is maybe going to be harder than he thought. A long-distance, friends-to-lovers fic, set during season four.

such a classic. this fic set up so many tropes for future klance fics to come. i can always appreciate when a fic branches out to give attention to the platonic relationships involved without it feeling forced. much much love for this fic <33

that's all for now. go leave a kudos and comment on the fics to show the authors your appreciation!!

IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 2025????!?!?

[jungwnies]

sfw alphabet | max verstappen (mv1)

୨ৎ : synopsis : sfw a-z alphabet for max verstappen

୨ৎ : word count : 1483

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

(a/n) : don't forget to like & reblog !! my requests are open!

a ⤖ affection (how affectionate is he? how often does he show affection?)

not overly affectionate in public, but very touchy in private

loves casual touches...

like a hand on your back, fingers playing with yours, resting his arm around you

shows love in quiet, consistent ways rather than big romantic gestures

instinctively reaches for your hand or pulls you closer in his sleep

b ⤖ beginning (what would he be like as a bsf; how would the friendship start?)

chaotic, competitive, and fiercely loyal as a friend

will challenge you to literally everything (even things you don’t care about)

loves to tease and roast you, but in a way that’s lowkey affectionate

likely met through mutual friends or the f1 world, but once he trusts you, you’re stuck with him

c ⤖ cuddles (does he like to cuddle; how would he cuddle?)

selective cuddler tbh

only cuddles when he’s in the mood or exhausted

prefers being the big spoon but will let you lay on his chest when he’s feeling soft

loves lazy couch cuddles after long days, usually while watching something

if he falls asleep on you?

good luck moving...he’s not letting go

d ⤖ domestic (does he want to settle down; how good is he at cooking and cleaning?)

100% sees himself settling down but probably later in life

absolutely useless in the kitchen...will either burn something or order food

not messy, but not overly tidy

his version of "clean" is "organized chaos"

will attempt to help with chores but gets distracted easily

e ⤖ ending (if he had to break up with you; how would he do it?)

hates confrontation but wouldn’t ghost you, he’d be direct

tries to keep it short and emotionless, but if he really loves you, he’ll struggle

might distance himself beforehand to prepare for it

avoids drama, doesn’t believe in dragging things out once a decision is made

bro wants to be "nonchalant" but the nonchalant def isn't in the room with us LMFAO

f ⤖ fiance (how does he feel about commitment; would he want to get married quick?)

i think we ALL know this man is NOT in a rush to get married

but he definitely takes commitment seriously

if he’s all in, he’s all in

wouldn’t rush marriage but once he knows, he knows

doesn’t care about a huge wedding, but he’d want it to be private and meaningful

would probably propose in a low-key, intimate moment rather than something flashy

g ⤖ gentle (how gentle is he; emotionally + physically?)

physically? very gentle when it matters, especially with you

emotionally? a bit rough around the edges but gets softer over time

will check in on you in his own way, even if it’s just “did you eat?”

protective rather than soft

he expresses care through actions rather than words

h ⤖ hugs (does he likes hugs; how often does he hug you; what are his hugs like?)

not a big hugger with most people, but with you, it’s different

back hugs are his thing

he’ll wrap his arms around you randomly

hugs you tighter when he’s stressed, like he needs to recharge

quick shoulder squeezes when he’s busy but still wants to show affection

i ⤖ i love you (how fast does he say he loves you?)

takes his time

won’t say it unless he truly means it

might show it through actions first before actually saying the words

when he finally says it, it’s unexpected but sincere

prefers proving it over saying it constantly

j ⤖ jealousy (how jealous does he get; what does he do when he is jealous?)

competitive by nature, so he gets lowkey jealous but won’t admit it

if another guy is flirting with you, he’ll hover nearby and make his presence known

gets grumpy and sulky, but instead of arguing, he’ll just claim you with casual touches

if it really bothers him, he’ll confront you privately but won’t cause a scene

k ⤖ kisses (what are his kisses like; where does he like to kiss you; where does he like to be kissed?)

slow and deep kisses rather than rushed pecks

loves forehead kisses when he’s feeling soft

jawline/neck kisses are his go-to when he’s feeling playful

likes when you kiss his shoulder or temple

it makes him feel secure

l ⤖ little ones (how is he around children?)

surprisingly good with kids (penelope literally loves him), but he’ll never admit it

would be a fun dad but also slightly panicked when they cry

gets super competitive even in kid’s games...will not let them win on purpose

protective over his own kids, will be the type to coach their karting career if they’re interested

m ⤖ morning (how are mornings spent with him?)

not a morning person unless it’s race day

grumpy and groggy for the first 15 minutes... prob longer than that tbh

needs coffee before human interaction

if you wake up before him, expect a sleepy arm pulling you back to bed

n ⤖ night (how are nights spent with him?)

winds down with gaming or watching sports

loves quiet moments

just being next to you is enough

gets weirdly philosophical late at night

sleeps better when you’re beside him

o ⤖ open (when would he open up; does he say everything at once or does he wait to reveal himself?)

takes time to open up

he’s naturally guarded let's blame jos for this

won’t talk about feelings unless he trusts you completely

expresses emotions through actions more than words

if he does open up, it’s late at night when he’s relaxed

p ⤖ patience (how easily angered is he?)

short temper, especially under stress

gets frustrated quickly but calms down just as fast

easily annoyed by small things, but he’s not one to hold grudges

if he gets mad at you, he needs a moment alone to cool off

bro is just a chill guy ... but he definitely has his moments lmfao

q ⤖ quizzes (how much would he remember about you; does he remember every little detail; or is he forgetful?)

surprisingly good memory

remembers random facts about you

might forget small things like dates, but remembers what actually matters

can recall your order at any restaurant

will bring up something you said months ago, proving he listens more than you think

r ⤖ remember (what is his favorite moment in the relationship?)

probably the first time he realized he wanted to be with you seriously

a moment when you comforted him after a rough race

some random, quiet memory that doesn’t seem big but means a lot to him

s ⤖ security (how protective is he; how does he protect you; how would he like to be protected?)

very protective but not overbearing

keeps an arm around you in crowded places

will 100% throw hands if someone disrespects you

prepares for every situation

makes sure you’re safe before himself

t ⤖ try (how much effort does he put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

not a grand gesture kind of guy, but he makes an effort in his own way

remembers important dates, but don’t expect anything over-the-top

his idea of a good date is something fun and casual

like karting, a race weekend getaway, or a quiet dinner

when he gets you gifts, they’re usually thoughtful and practical rather than extravagant

u ⤖ ugly (what are some of his bad habits?)

terrible at texting back

sometimes leaves you on read for hours (or days)

stubborn as hell...once he’s made up his mind, good luck changing it

can be emotionally closed off, struggles to talk about feelings

terrible at sitting still

always fidgeting, moving, or doing something

v ⤖ vanity (how concerned is he with his looks?)

lowkey vain without admitting it

takes care of his appearance but acts like he doesn’t care

hates bad hair days...if it’s not sitting right, he gets annoyed

wears team gear constantly, even outside of f1 events

secretly likes when you compliment his looks, even though he plays it cool

w ⤖ whole (would he feel incomplete without you?)

wouldn’t admit it easily, but yes, you’re a huge part of his life

when you’re apart, he gets restless

doesn’t know what to do with himself

hates sleeping alone once he’s used to having you around

if you ever broke up, he’d pretend he’s fine but would be absolutely miserable

x ⤖ xtra (random headcanon for him)

obsessed with winning at everything

even dumb games like mario kart

takes you on late-night drives just to clear his mind

collects race helmets like trophies and would 100% gift you one of his as a sentimental gesture

gets pouty when you beat him at something, but secretly loves that you challenge him-

y ⤖ yuck (what are some things he wouldn't like; in general or in a partner?)

hates unnecessary drama

if you’re constantly picking fights, he’ll check out fast

doesn’t like overly clingy behavior, needs his personal space sometimes

fake people piss him off

he values honesty above all

dislikes when people try too hard to impress him...he def prefers authenticity

z ⤖ zzz (what are his sleeping habits?)

moves a lot in his sleep

sometimes ends up half on top of you without realizing

needs to sleep in complete darkness, otherwise he gets annoyed

prefers falling asleep with you next to him bc he finds it comforting

if you wake up before him and try to leave, he’ll instinctively pull you back into bed

2021-2024 © jungwnies on tumblr | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

[cybsoo2]

parasite

╰┈➤ synopsis — Jungkook swears the two of you are in love. Two hearts harbouring the same feeling for one another, but a blue screen always keeping you apart. However, an impromptu live steam reveals some interesting information that could finally destroy the distance.

╰┈➤ pairing — yandere!jungkook x camgirl!reader

╰┈➤ word count — 2.5k

╰┈➤ content warning — mature themes, obsessive behavior, masturbation (m&f), semi-public masturbation, voyeurism (by eavesdropping), sexting, porn, he's delusional

“I can’t sleep.” Your voice is soft and sleep-laced. “No matter how hard I try, I can’t stop thinking about it.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. Speaking to him like you’re confessing a secret. “I thought I could make it until Friday–”

Friday.  Jungkook’s favourite day. The one day of the week he can see you through the screen. He hates how much distance there is between you. His hands twitching to reach through the screen, body begging to pull you close. You always say how lonely the winters get, how cold it is in your room.

He could keep you warm.

And while his head knows that you’re just two strangers through a screen, his heart begs to differ. Because every time you come online, sit down in your chair and stare into the camera, you look into the lens like you can see him.

You’re looking at him like that right now. Looking into his eyes like you need him.

Jungkook knows just what you like. He knows how to heat you up– airy moans sounding through his headphones. And he knows how to cool you down– praising your performance and telling you how pretty you looked. But even though he knows you better than you know yourself, you bring out a part of Jungkook he didn’t know he had.

You destroy him. Tearing him to pieces and putting them back together again. Stretching him so thin he thinks he’ll snap, only to be let back like an elastic band.

He craves you like he can’t understand. Foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog, aching to sink his teeth into your skin. You’re all he thinks about, every day of the week until Friday– when he finally gets to speak his mind. It’s a short second of pleasure in a sea of pain, but you make it worth the while.

That’s why this stream is such a blessing. You answered his call and came to him when he needed it most. And it seems like you needed him too.

“I can’t stop thinking about–” You pause to bite your lip, a look of pain etched upon your face. “How much it hurts.”

It does look like it hurts. Your teary eyes are red-rimmed, as if you kept rubbing at them– trying to rid yourself of these intrusive thoughts. Your lips stand out to him too, bitten and bleeding just a bit. You’re quick to lick it away, almost like you could sense his staring.

Jungkook is in pain too. That string in his stomach is tightening by the second. It begins to burn and it hurts with the way he’s straining through his pants. His blue pajamas are growing a bit of a dark spot near the front. They’re too tight, so why even bother keeping them on?

“You won’t be mad at me right?” You’ve begun to rock yourself back and forth. The pillow in between your legs brings just a bit of relief. “I tried so hard to last till Friday– I really did. But then again, this could be like a little treat to the both of us.”

Your eyes remain fixed on the flood of new messages. Hands fisting the sheets tightly, you’re whole body tense because you refuse to go any further unless your viewers tell you to. All the responses scream at you, begging for you to continue, but you stay still.

Jungkook can’t take it any longer. His pants discarded on the floor, shirt somewhere he forgot. He palms himself through his boxers, hips jutting up to meet his hand. Arousal shoots through his skin and he’s staining himself a dark blue. If he can touch himself so carelessly, then don’t you deserve to as well?

kookiejar: keep going kookiejar: i know we both need it

Jungkook can see you reach your hand down slowly. Pushing past the waistband of your underwear and reaching that aching part of you.

From where you lie on your side, Jungkook can see everything. Your shirt is riding up, risen up along your stomach to reveal your bare skin. The cotton clings to you, you’ve already broken a sweat from the raging heat in your core.

The black panties you wear grow darker as you keep drowning in desire. They’ve gotten messy, lacy patterns sticking to your skin. The fabric creates too much distance, so you slowly slide them off. Now nothing separates you from the sin you’re so caught up in. A sheer wetness coating your thighs. You keep rubbing them together to get more friction, trapping your fingers in between your legs.

Your movements are lazy as you chase your lust. Tired and still sleepy, there’s no reason to rush into it. You slowly circle your clit, building up a tension that has you clenching around nothing. That aching need only rises as you slip your fingers down further. Pushing two fingers into your puffy, pink hole. You let out a groan at the sensation and Jungkook thinks he’ll go insane.

He’s a total mess. Warm and wet, he’s completely soaked through his shorts. The fabric begins to inch at his sensitive skin and his face contorts at the feeling. He peels them off, thighs trembling as they stick together.

His cock stands tall. Angry and red as pearly drops of pre-cum roll down the slide. He’s barely touched himself, only lazy strokes after desperately palming himself through his pants, but he can already feel himself tipping over the edge if he doesn’t slow down.

His insides are tied tight, abs tensing and hands shaking. His whole body feels as if it’s on fire. He grips onto the corner of his computer to hold himself still. Thumbs brushing against your hair through the screen. His eyes lock onto you, focused on watching you ride out your pleasure before he even thinks about his own.

You’re covering up all the pretty little sounds you make. Biting down on your fist as you try to fight off every moan that makes its way up your throat. All Jungkook can hear is the rusting sheets and your heavy breathing– hitching as you hit that sweet spot.

You’ve never been very vocal when you’re like this. None of those obnoxiously loud moans or phony cries of climax. You’re not like those porn stars of the week, fake and nothing but fictional. You’re real. That’s why Jungkook was so drawn to you. Your sweet sighs as your head arched back. The way you’d talk to the chat, always so worried if they were enjoying themselves or not, saying you wouldn’t finish unless they did first. And how you’d always end up breathless whenever you finally came undone. Jungkook knows how you act when you’re deep in desire, but this isn’t it.

kookiejar: what are you hiding from?

You scan over the chat as you lazily fuck yourself. Jungkook can see the reflection of his message in your iris. The bright blue words burnt into your retinas, they stay there for a second before you try to blink them away.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” You say between heavy breathes. Still blissed out and struggling to think. “I couldn’t wait, and if we’re too loud, people could hear.” Your voice is a bit muffled, face hiding in your pillow in embarrassment.

kookiejar: all that matters is you and me kookiejar: don’t worry about anyone else

His blue words burn into the screen. They’re all you can see. 

Were you really so bad at concealing your emotions? Hiding your hesitation in between dirty  words and a dark room. You tried to cater to your fans while still enjoying the ecstasy, all without ever truly letting go. Yet, you can never outrun the eyes of anonymous. He sees right through your lies. He looks into your heart and knows what you really want. 

Perhaps letting go wouldn’t be so bad? To let yourself indulge in the dark night. To be truly tangled up in this heat. To have your fingers pushed up inside. Knuckle-deep and stroking at the softest parts of you. Reaching deeper and rubbing against that sweet spot– the one that has you arching your back and letting out a sweet sigh. 

Screw the neighbours and what they’ll say the next morning, you’ll deal with the consequences when they come. And even if you did have a bit of doubt in your mind, a notification from the chat eases all your worries.

user ‘kookiejar’ sent you $250

kookiejar: let yourself go

And you do just that. Sounds of pure pleasure play through Jungkook’s headphones: airy moans and heavy breathing– that creaky bed frame that you can’t afford to fix. You’re wrapped up in the bedsheets, baby blue colour that keeps getting darker. Blue turnt to black with how much you’re working yourself up. Wetness dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets. You turn over slightly onto your stomach. Grinding down onto the mattress while your hand grabs a fistful of the sheets. Searching for something to hold on to as open mouthed moans muffle themselves into your pillow. 

Tonight is intimate. You could’ve chosen to be selfish– gotten off as the sun fell from the sky. Giving into your cravings and chasing the heat. A few minutes spent pulling at your clit, teasing yourself a little before and pumping them inside. You could’ve come undone in quiet, hiding it like a secret in the dark. But instead, you chose to come online.

You’re sharing all the secrets about yourself. Giving your viewers a voyeuristic look at the little details that make up your life. Small details that you should’ve been more careful to conceal. Because as you let your mind relax and your emotions take over, your muted moans make their way through the single white wall that separates you. 

Jungkook can barely make out the noises coming from the room right next to him. It’s all so muffled he has to stain himself to hear. His headphones lay abandoned on his bed. Computer tossed to the side and for the very first time, his eyes aren’t on you. Instead he stares at the white wall in front of him. Eyebrows furrowed as he tries to focus on what he can’t hear. Jungkook pushes himself closer to the wall, ear pressed up against it. No air leaves his lips, he’s completely quiet. All his attention on your hushed moans that sound through the wall. 

He can hear you. 

He can actually hear you– and not through a stupid screen or on replay in his memories, but right next door. It’s almost as if you’re right next to him, and Jungkook can’t help himself from imagining it. 

You two sitting on the same bed, not even an inch of distance between your bodies. You’re breaking a sweat, the moisture gathers at your hairline and drips down to your flushed cheeks. They’ve turnt red with how hot you’ve grown. 

With your warm body in reach, Jungkook can barely hold himself back. His once forgotten arousal has only been intensified. Back is the ache in his bones and he lets out a groan at the feeling. Jungkook lets out a small whine, sensitive to the cold air against his burning body. He left the lonely sheets in search of your voice and now he sits slumped against the wall. He wraps one hand around his cock, his needs have been neglected and he doesn’t know if he can ignore them any longer. 

He starts out slow, lazy strokes going down his dick, but it isn’t very long before he picks up the pace. His other hand tries to grip onto the wall. Jungkook’s mind is a mess and he needs something to steady himself with. Not only that, but with his palm pressed flat against the wall, it’s almost as if he could reach right through and take you in his arms. Just a single touch from you would be enough to push him over the edge. He’s close– and from what he can hear, you are too. 

Almost at your breaking point, you’re so desperate to cum it’s hard to hold back– but you do. Pulling your fingers away from your aching cunt, letting out a breathy whine as you do so. Biting down on your sticky fingers, you try to ignore the throbbing of your core. Your body begs for more, but you turnt to look into the lens instead. 

“Fuck– I’m so close.” You say through a muffled moan. “You are too, aren’t you?” You look at the camera in anticipation, waiting for a response with baited breath. 

Jungkook doesn’t even have to grab his headphones to hear your question, he can hear it right through the wall. A part of him jumps to answer you, the words threatening to tumble past his lips. But he clamps his hand down on his mouth and swallows back the sentence. He wouldn’t want to scare you after all. Instead, Jungkook is quick to snatch up the laptop laying open on his bed and type out a reply.

kookiejar: yes, please– i’m so close kookiejar: you make me insane when you make those pretty sounds

“You want me to keep going?” You ask the chat. Head rolling back as you reach back down. Slender fingers encircle your clit, rubbing at the sensitive spot. The feeling is so good it has you slipping out a soft moan. “Like when I make these sounds?” Your eyes flutter over to the chat once again. You ask the question almost teasingly. And even if you can’t see him, Jungkook can’t stop himself from frantically nodding his head yes. 

He types with trembling fingers. No doubt making a mess of his computer. Sticky hands traveling over the keys, begging you to keep doing what you’re doing His hand travels up to the tip of his cock. So slick it’s easy to start thumbing over his slit. The new sensation and noises of you doing the same has his eyes rolling back. His head lolls to the side, temple resting against the cold wall. Frantic eyes flicker to your form, still teasing at your clit as pretty sighs tumble past your pink lips. 

Jungkook’s almost there. A burning heat builds up in his stomach. It spreads through his body and reaches his crotch. He’s a second away from cumming and he wants you to do the same.

kookiejar: don’t stop

Eyes drifting amongst the dark, they find the light and focus on a single sentence. Don’t stop. 

“Okay–” You manage to say through a sigh. And with your face buried into the pillow and fingers rubbing against your bud, the string inside you finally snaps. As you reach your peak, you mumble out the remainder of your sentence. “Kookie…”

With his name on your lips and his hands thumbing at the tip, Jungkook can’t hold back any longer. He cums all over himself. A stickiness that covers his hand and the wall in between you. And instead of the screen that used to separate you, it’s the room that entraps you. A room with white walls and iron bars. One that he just has to figure out how to sneak into.

© cybsoo2 2025, all rights reserved

[luiluvr]

touch || luigi mangione

oh hii !! i saw @vershautece’s post and hadddd to write this, and deepest apologies i have NOT written smut before like my blog is losing its virginity </3 anywaysss hope u enjoy it!!

WARNINGS: f!reader, 18+, sex, dry humping/thigh riding, lu cumming in his pants, college!luigi loses his virginity, unprotected p in v i tried proofreading but when i wrote this i was half asleep so ☠

SUMMARY: Literally just sex (taking Lu's virginity :3) and dry humping him in his sweatpants gahhh

WC: 2.8k

Mess, mess, what a mess! Homecoming at UPenn was no joke. The frat boys painted their bodies the college’s colors, rowdy hallways and loud music. The campus buzzed with life; and the boys showed no shame — especially Luigi Mangione. He was new; a freshman. In contrast to the other male students, he was different. Had the smarts you know would take him many places, the charisma of a romcom boyfriend, everything you could want or need.

Lucky for you, he had his eyes drawn to your pretty figure, the way your skirt bounced, your thighs, and overall, your smile. He loved those rosy lips and kind flashes of teeth. 

“Did I get my back?” Luigi asks his friend, Lane. 

“Barely.” His friend chuckles, most of the paint on Luigi’s lanky figure was dried. He just needed assistance mapping out the ‘P’, since he and his friends were going to line up in the stands and spell out Penn. 

“Can you help me then?”

“No, I gotta get help myself, I’m not gonna paint you, that’d be weird!” Lane laughs. Luigi’s thick, bushy brows furrow, “what do you suggest then, Dr. Know-it-all?”

“Get the girls to do it.”

“Oh come on,” Luigi sighs, “I don’t want them to be uncomfortable.” Lane sighs, “they’re not gonna be uncomfortable. If they like us, anyway… You could ask Y/N..” Lane teases him, smirking and bumping his shoulder.

“We still have an hour or two.” Luigi nods, plenty of time to get painted on by his crush. You.

 So, with their heads held high, the boys walked the campus with their bodies painted blue and red to the dorms where you and your friends stayed. Your roommate was actually dating Lane — you never quite understood that. A knock at the door later, and the girl’s fun get ready for homecoming was crashed with body paint. 

Unfortunately for Lane, he forgot the second bottle of white paint. Your roommate accompanied them back across campus.

The other girls had disappeared, including the last blue-painted boy; leaving you alone with Mangione. You side eye him a moment, he stood awkwardly, rubbing his cracked, painted palms together. He had smuggled the white paint bottle.

You looked so cute to him, your creamy thighs, carefully lined lips and the white skirt with a blue blouse. He could feel himself growing a bit hard. It was embarrassing, you were so pretty and perfect to him, but he was a virgin — contrary to popular belief. He just liked you. He wanted you.

Luigi finally breaks the silence, watching you pull the rollers from your shiny hair. He clears his throat, “uh, Y/N?” His voice was a bit shaky.

“Yes?” You reply, your voice as smooth as honey.

“When you’re done… Would you mind helping me paint my back and uhmm.. The P on my stomach?” Don’t blush, Luigi. 

Oh he’s so cute, he’s so shy asking you, his bunched up curls and tall stance. You shiver at the thought of touching him.

“Sure.” You said simply, not wanting to seem too excited. 

After a bit you finally tended to him. You coated your hands in the paint and slathered it over his boney back. He wasn’t exactly the most buff guy, but he had a normal body for this age. He was really attractive, he wore those slutty gray sweatpants every girl begs her boyfriend to wear.

 In this case, you didn’t ask him, he came to you like that. 

It wasn’t your fault it was so obvious, the gentle outline through the fabric, you avoided looking at it, so he wasn’t weirded out by you. You always knew this guy was packing. Literally. He had you paint down to his waist, his v-line was so prominent.

For Luigi, your hands on him was like being dropped in heaven rather than the gates. He tensed a little at first but your warm palms soothe his occasional aches. He stood with posture and hopeful confidence, he liked you way too much.

“Okay, red’s done.” You state, showing him in the bathroom mirror as you wash it off your palms. “Looks great.” He says, you ended up using a blow dryer to get it dry faster. He had to sit down on the couch for a few, you did too. All that work plus doing your hair prior was tiring.

He looks over at you, his freckles show overlaying blush and his beauty marks are so perfectly placed on each cheek.

“What is it?” You questioned, wanting to know why he was staring so hard. He freezes and stares more, like a deer in headlights. “Sorry, I…I think you’re really pretty.” His cheeky, little crooked smile. You wanted to kiss him so bad.

“Thank you, Luigi.”

“O-of course.”

You smile warmly and tip your head back, looking up at the ceiling a moment, then he speaks up, his voice cracks. “I like you.” God, he was nervous.

“You do?”

“I do.”

“I like you too.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.” 

He silently cheered and ran a lap around, celebrating in his mind, but outside he nodded and looked at you as though you’re the only girl to ever exist in this world. “I really like that skirt of yours too.” He blurts.

“Yeah?” You chuckle.

“Yeah..” He bit his lip subconsciously and looks down at your thighs, pressed together and pressed to the cushion, he was almost jealous the couch could be sat on by you. He wanted to kiss up your legs and praise every part of your body, and let himself get lost in his sexual desires for you, he wanted-

“My eyes are up here, Lu.” You smile. His hazel irises dart up, his cheeks impossibly turn more pink, and he starts to get cocky.

“They are," he says quietly. “I wanna look down here though.” He continued. Something changed, like the quiet, nervous atmosphere had shifted into an undeniable need, longing and prayers that it would evolve into something soon before one of you lost it.

You stood to get the white paint from the table, but Lu grabbed your hand and stopped you abruptly. “Luigi?”

“C’mere.” He whispers, pulling you down on his lap, somehow, at some point there was a spurt of confidence in him that shone like a star now. “Lu-“ 

“Shhh.” He says, looking at your body in his hands, although clothed he can only imagine what lies beneath it. He blinks, then reaches for your breasts. He looks for reassurance, once you nod he’s practically a goner. His large, slender fingers are groping and squeezing your boobs, so gently yet possessively in a way you liked. 

“You’re s-so..” Words are uncomprehending in his brain, all he thinks and sees is lust. He leans forward and kisses between your collarbones. Slowly up your throat, stopping at your jaw. “I’m sorry, I can’t help it. I need you so badly, Y/N.” He murmurs, looking at you greedily. 

With a tug, he popped open the buttons on your lace blouse, you were never one to wear a bra underneath a top like this — so when he was met with bare breasts, he almost frothed at the mouth. It took a moment before he gazes between your face and boobs, you nod; and he’s gone. Again.

His kiss was tender and he only suckled for so long before nursing the other breast, kneading one softly, then switching off. It felt so intimate, yet so sweet coming from him. You could only moan, letting your fingers curl up in his hair.

Then he cupped your ass, squeezing the flesh and all he felt was the dampened fabric of your panties under the skirt. His eyes meet yours like a needy puppy’s. “You want me…?” He asks, in a state of disbelief that this was real. 

“I do.”

He fidgets for a moment, he wanted to tell you, but you had an idea. To try something different but equally pleasurable for yourself, he had no clue what you were doing until you were doing it. Softly, you straddled one of his thighs and began moving your aching need against it. He watched in awe, his cock was getting harder from the warmth, the fabric friction and your sounds. The sounds…

He exhaled, holding you in place, he nudged his thigh forward, causing a gasp to escape you. Each second grew more needful for both of you, he was so turned on he couldn’t think straight. “Lu,” you moan, and moan. Gently dry humping his thigh, it was so tender. You were so wet you left a small stain on the thigh of his sweatpants.

He was desperate and being a virgin in this state, he needed something more. Luigi grabs your hips and moves you directly on his erection. He leans so he is almost laying back, with you on top, he encourages you to keep moving.

You do.

You humped him through the sweats, his hardness rubbing against you in all of the right ways, your eyes flutter and you can feel how desperate you’re getting to have him inside you. Luigi could barely handle it, he was whiny, enjoying the view of you rubbing against his tented pants. Every now and then he’d buck up against you…

It became too much, he was guiding your hips, making sure you felt him against your pussy and ass — he groaned, feeling the twitch in his pants become more consistent until you moved so much he panted, begging you. A warmth spread against your panties and you lifted up, glancing down to find Luigi came right there in his briefs and sweats. It was a little endearing to see the male’s cum in that place. He blushes profusely, looking at you with embarrassment. “S-sorry.”

“For what?” “I came too fast.” He whispered. “I don’t think so.” You laugh softly, gazing at the mess you made of him. You turn to face him and lean over, planting your first big kiss on his lips. He moans and cups your face, kissing you sloppily for a long moment. His tongue slipped in your mouth, mapping out, wanting to remember every detail of you.

“I want you.” Your voice rang in the air. “I want you too. Bad.” He pants, then debates — “But uhm… I’m a virgin.”

You grin, pinching his cheek softly. “Oh, Lu, you think that’ll stop me?” He gushes. You tug him up from the couch, then grab the paint bottle and head back to the bathroom, shutting the door behind the both of you.

One hour to gametime.

Your fingers moved across his abdomen and lower chest, tracing the letter P, he was so shaky and sensitive still from cumming in his pants — it didn’t help he couldn’t clean that up yet either. You took extra time and care to paint him right and once done, you teasingly wiped your paint-covered thumb over his dick in the sweats.

He whined, looking down at you, there was no hiding that! “Y-Y/N..” He cooed. Just that action made his member twitch with arousal and life again. “Yes?” Weak, Luigi was so weak to you. He kissed your neck as you cleaned the white paint from your fingertips, “p-please.” 

“Please, what?” You ask, looking at him as he shifts on his feet.

“Please… I need you to fuck me.”

“You’re sure you want me to be your first?” 

“Positive. That's all I want.. I want you, Y/N. Please.”

From confident to straight up begging to be inside you.

You finally cave in, and the poor thing was so inexperienced, but he wanted to do the work. He only wanted to please you. Following instructions, he shimmied your panties down from under your skirt and showed off your breasts again. All in the mirror. The counter was just the right height and he could bend you over it. You stayed there, letting him get himself ready, you told him, “do what feels right, don’t rush yourself.” He nodded and carefully went a step at a time, you arched a bit and he ran his large palms over your ass. Then he pushed down his sweats and briefs, his erection was almost worse than the one before.

Luigi gently stroked himself, shakily groaning as he stood straight, adjusted your hip and aligned himself, “there we go, don’t be shy.” You say calmly. He gently poked your entrance with his tip, rubbed a bit as you wanted. He was packing — just a lot more than you expected. His tip alone felt so big and he wasn’t even inside you.

“Slowly, now..”  He makes sure he’s still aligned right and gently uses his hand to guide his dick’s head into you. He watched you in the mirror. You gasp, not expecting that at all.

“Holy shit… o-okay..” You mumble, “Like I said, do what feels right.. okay?” Luigi nodded, feeling that confident cockiness coming back as he slowly pushed his length inside you, officially and fully, no longer a virgin. His face contorted, brows furrowed, he looks at your ass from this angle, the way your breasts spill out of the blouse.

He let you adjust to his size – more or so, he had to adjust to your slick tightness — he really had to focus here. All he could think of right now was how your pussy felt like heaven.

A flicker of need, and he began pushing in, pulling out, repetitively. You moaned, he did too, enjoying the feel. He got the swing of it pretty quick and ol’ sweet, nerdy Luigi was a little addict after five minutes. His hips slapped into your rear, filling the bathroom with pleasure and his length completely stretched you.

Two desperate souls, desiring. Joined together in passionate lovemaking. Luigi loved how your breasts bounced back n’ forth when he thrusted into you — how you moaned, your eyes shut and rolled back, all of it in the reflection for him to take in. “Fuck, Y/N, I’m gonna cum.” He growls into your ear, kissing your neck as he brushes your hair aside.

“Okay.” You hum, he glances at you in the mirror. “I can pull out-“

“Don’t you dare.” You smiled slyly, cutting him off. Luigi blushed, confused, but not stopping his thrusts. “Are you sure…?”

“Yes.”

He was hesitant but fuck, he loses his virginity to you and he gets to cum inside you? Double win for him.

His movements became sloppy and erratic, needy and quick. You were a squirming, writhing mess — especially when he curiously reached under you and began rubbing at your clit. For someone with zero experience he found it quick. It made you whine, it made him feel so empowered for that moment…

“Lu, I’m gonna..” You pant, your back arching against him. He leans you up and cups around your ribs, holding you steadily so he can just thrust faster, it was a change but it felt amazing.

He made you really cry out in pleasure, your walls clung to him like a last lifeline and he groaned deeply, using it to his advantage to get off. He moved faster, despite your overwhelming orgasm, overstimulating you by continuously rubbing at your nub and nipping your neck, “You’re so fucking sexy.” He whispers, you had no clue where his sudden spark came from to be dominant, but you loved it.

Not even a full minute later, you felt him cum inside you – something you both probably shouldn’t have done but gosh, it was so worth it watching him collapse on your back, heaving and planting soft kisses on your shoulder. “That was amazing, God, Y/N, I love you.” He paused, blushing more when he realizes what he’s admitted out loud; but your expression says it all. 

“I love you too.”

The both of you cleaned up, you fixed his painted body (and had to change clothes yourself, since some bits that didn’t dry, got all over you.) Thankfully Luigi had a spare pair of sweatpants, stretchy, black fabric. “Hold on, I gotta redo it now,” you smile. Although it meant ruining your makeup, you got the paint on your lips and pressed a kiss against the sweatpants, just over his dick.

“Huh – oh.” Luigi moans as you do so, he flushes and watches you. His heartbeat was quick and he felt so giddy. Gosh, he loved your touch. Then Lane and your roommate returned, he had the ‘E’ painted on his stomach. Now everyone was ready to head out and enjoy homecoming.

It was fun, Luigi and his friends walked together, but of course Lane’s observant eyes glinted. “You have fun Luigi?” He smirks. “What are you talking about?” Luigi responds. “C’mon, I know you had sex with her.”

“What? How?”

Lane pointed at his sweatpants, which he quickly remembered that your lips marked. He rubs his neck nervously and smiles. “So, you finally lost it?” Lane bumps their elbows. Luigi gazed at you, at your smile – laughing with your girl friends. He felt a sense of pride when you look back at him, his stomach flutters. 

It also didn't help you had a big red handprint from Luigi's palm-covered hands on your lower butt cheek, which if you walked a certain way, was completely visible in that skirt. Luigi smiled, because he did that.

“Yeah, I guess I did.”

TAGS: @vershautece @iinfinitelimits (lmk if u want to be added!)

[siri-ike]

It was almost a relief, you know? Knowing that they were never really his friends. At least if he's alone, no one can leave him. Or betray him. This was for the best, really. Now, he can't fool himself into trusting again. Danny floated above Gotham observatory overlooking the city. Curled up as tight as he could be. Intangible and invisible, like he didn't even exist. If only.

He looked up at the smog. This city couldn't even give him that much. All it did was take. All anyone did was take, take, take until there was nothing left of him.

It was time he stood up for himself. It was time for him to hit back.

Danny uncurled at the decision. And during this dark Gotham night, a light appeared beneath the smog.

Why should he be the one to hide? Why should he be the one to veer out of harms way?

High above Gotham observatory floated a green glowing boy. As bright as any star. And like the brightest stars, he would burn fast.

Slowly, it descended. The temperature dropped along with him. Soon, he was hovering shortly above the roof of the observatory, and all of Gotham reached zero degrees Celsius.

From his perch, he watched as summer turned to winter.

If all they want is a dangerous monster. He may as well give it to them.

He hugged his legs to him and let out a long frozen breath. The blue tinted white cloud became bigger and bigger as it moved further towards the city. At its exact border, snow began to fall. It was probably the cleanest snow Gotham had seen in decades. If anything, he'd be doing the world a favor by getting rid of it.

The cold stung his cheeks and nose. The tears trickling down his face froze solid. It stung even more, but he didn't wipe them away. It should hurt. He wants to hurt.

In the distance, he hears a crash and screams as the first snowflakes reach the ground, and giant icicles burst out of the ground where they land.

He peeked up from behind his knees at the cries for help.

He doesn't help.

That's not who he is anymore.

A slight creaking sound behind him cought the Ghost Kings attention.

"It was easier, before," Phantom said slowly closed off. "I could keep the cold in, then." He turned to the sorce of the sound. "When someone was worth the warmth."

From just below the horizon of the metal dome, Nightwing climbed into sight. "You can still stop. We can call it even."

"Even?" He spoke in a whisper, but he wasn't quiet. "I'm not the one who needs to earn forgiveness."

Nightwing cringed at the accusation. Did they really go too far? Staying low, he creped closer. "I'm, I'm sorry. We should have trusted you."

"That's not true." Phantom paused and gestured to the chaos unfolding on the city. "That's clearly not true." He floated into a standing position. "I don't need your trust. I don't want your trust."

A chill went down Nightwings spine when their eyes met.

"I was wrong to give you mine." He let his foot touch the roof, and in an instant, a thick sheet of ice spread out from all around him. He looked up at Nightwing, frozen through, with a look of shock on his face.

Phantom slipped through the metal sheeting and into the observatory. He couldn't even turn tangable in there. The whole thing was covered and filled with ice. At least then, no one can disturb him.

Phantom spent hours wallowing at the star maps and research that would now be lost. He mourned the astronomer who was on shift that night. Alone. Just like him. He looked through the framed photos around her station. Unlike him, she had a family to come home to.

He had fully taken stock of his dome when the whole thing started shaking around him. He, of course, stayed was still.

Outside the Batmobile, treked through the ice and slush. This version looked more like a tank than the usual sleek design.

Through a pair of heat sensing binoculars, Red Robin spotted a figure inside the frozen observatory. It was so much colder than the ice around.

What stepped out wasn't Danny, the joke cracking ghost boy who could talk about space for literal hours on end. The gentle soul desperate for a community was gone. In his place was something else. His skin was almost as white as his hair, except his lips, nose, fingers, and toes had all turned dark gray from what had to be 3rd degree frostbite. Two streams of tears stuck frozen to his cheeks. He had dark circles around his eyes, which were only half open.

Paranoia eats the Phantom

DP x DC Prompt

I've always read stories where Danny and the Bats end up together in many ways, but one story caught my eye, 'A Heart Worth Breaking', one chapter in that work on a03 has Danny snapping at the Bats for looking into him when he hasn't done the same, and it inspired me to make a prompt similar to that chapter

Danny escaped the horrors of both the GIW and his parents. They cut him open, seen what makes him tick. They run tests on the 'samples' they collect from him. They put him in a room and see what is best to work on him to hurt him. They put him in different Ghost Containment devices that are modified to inflict harm on him. They... they killed those he 'manipulated' (Jazz, Sam and Tucker) in front of him... just to see if he would reveal his 'true colors'.

He escaped to Gotham when the Justice League began a raid on the GIW base he was being held in. None of the heroes had shown interest in the calls coming from Amity, so why now? He wouldn't find that answer, as he just wants to live. He wants to be a person and not a 'thing' to be studied or a hero. Gotham has enough ambient ectoplasm for him to live in, so he had Technus Forge him some identification papers on the digital plane to be "Daniel Jasper Folson".

He did his best to avoid the radar of the Bats and Birds, but he couldn't ignore his obsession. He went out at night as Phantom to try and discreetly help those in need. He failed at being discreet and was discovered by the Bats and Birds.

He wasn't expecting to be requested to help them during some big hits on Trafficking Rings or gathering Intel on the big name rogues that are obviously hiding something behind the scenes. Sure, he only has Nightwing, Red Hood, and occasionally Signal to hang out with, but he's slowly coming to trust the Bats and Birds of Gotham.

He should've known that it was too good to be true. During a quiet night, where he was hanging out with Wing and Hood on a roof, eating Batburgers together, he overheard Oracle and Red Robin tell one of the two with Danny about their progress on finding more information on him or trying to get through the GIW logs kn him.

This causes him to snap on Wing and Hood, saying that they didn't care for him as another being, treating him as a thing to be studied and contained. He stops himself from revealing too much and runs away. He runs away to be with the lesbian couple that both remind him of his sister and best friend in some ways and who have helped him on occasion when he ran into them on the streets, trying to build up enough money to get a home for himself.

He is at their front door, waiting for one of them to open it after he knocked on it, tears still streaming down his face and looking heartbroken. They do let him in and do their best to comfort him. He is just staring blankly at nothing in front of him as the couple trues to get him to talk to them. He vaguely hears Harley tell Pamela something about flowers, someone called B-man, and about himself.

Before he registers Pamela coming into the room with the flowers, he sees one of the Bats or Birds land by the window. It's only after the Bat or Bird almost knocks on the window to be let in when he registered the flowers that Pamela has offered to Danny. Blood Blossoms. His body hurts, and with the bouquet of Blood Blossoms so close to him, his body begins to melt in a grotesque way into a puddle of Ectoplasm, and then thay puddle evaporated into nothing.

But that wasn't Danny. That was a duplicate he sent to Pamela and Harley. He couldn't fully trust them, as they were known to be, on occasion, working with the Bats and Birds, but he wanted to be with people he knew he could trust. And now he thinks that trust is broken, as he connected the dots, seeing one of the Vigilantes go to them, figuring out that B-Man is Batman, and the Blood Blossoms that Pamela had.

Maybe it's time for him to use his Ghost King title to the fullest. He can't trust the heroes of the world because of that trust had been betrayed by the Bats and Birds of Gotham, and he's going to make an announcement to the world.

[voxslays]

ARS LONGA, VITA BREVIS

“art is long, life is short.”

WARNINGS: Clingy!reader, touch-starved!alastor + reader, major misunderstanding/conflict that gets resolved.

You felt pensive. Maybe even sombre. You could feel the disconsolate gloom creeping up on your psyche. Why? Simply because you had to keep your hands to yourself.

Like Charlie, you had always been a touchy-feely person. The type to want to crawl into someone’s skin—although, not literally. Only metaphorically. To many, you were one of the sweetest demon belle’s they had ever met. Perhaps that’s why the Radio Demon had taken such a strong liking to you.

That’s right. You and Alastor were in the courting process. But it didn’t feel official to you. It felt wrong. Your body ached of touch deprivation. It was as if the lack of touch from your lover was eating away at your skin—like the walls were closing in around you. But you chalked it up to being over-dramatic.

You loved Alastor, and being the respectful and loving person you are, you chose to ignore it and give him the space he so desperately desired—even if it caused you pain. You were willing to do anything for the goofy (in your eyes) deer demon.

⊹₊⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆

It wasn’t until many weeks later it became a problem.

Despite the other residents (including Alastor) noticing such a huge change in your personality, none of them could get any information out of you. Not Charlie, with her one on one therapy sessions, not Husk trying to get you drunk, not even Alastor. Until, today.

Sitting on one of the red velvet sofas in the main lobby, you kept your head down while you read your book. It was a bad habit of yours that Alastor hated. The deer demon always insisted on you fixing your posture, but no matter what either of you did, it never seemed to work. Nearby, you hear the familiar clomping of Alastor’s boots.

Alastor came over to the sofa, humming an old swing tune to himself as he stood over you, peering down at the book in your lap. As usual, the radio demon was unamused with your slouched nature— and he made a noise of disapproval. “Come on now, my dear. How many times do I have to tell you not to slouch..?!” He said in a half-scolding, half-teasing manner.

You simply giggle. As he attempts to sit down next to you, you instinctively move over a smidge. Alastor needed his personal space, didn’t he ? The demon let out an exasperated and crackly sigh, moving to sit down on the sofa next to you— only to notice that you had scooted away from him, leaving space between the two of you.

He chuckled to himself, amused by your little habit of avoiding contact with him, as he leaned back against the sofa, folding his arms over his chest. He looked over at you, a playful smirk on his face. “You still insist on keeping that distance from me, hm?”

“Huh?” You ask, placing your book down on the mahogany coffee table and looking up at your lover in genuine confusion. He chuckled softly at how adorable you were when you were oblivious to his teasing. The demon leans a little closer to you, his smirk growing wider. “Oh, nothing, my dear. Just noticing how you always seem to keep a little distance between us..”

“I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.” You smile gently. By now, Alastor knew of your touchy and clingy nature. So why were you personally forcing yourself to be touch starved? Alastor’s smirk softens into a small, fond smile as he heard your words. He was touched that you were so considerate of his personal space—but at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel a little amused by your clueless obliviousness to how much he actually enjoyed your touch.

He scoffs playfully, shaking his head—his tall, red and black ears flailing slightly. “My dear, you could never make me uncomfortable..” He then chuckled, his expression turning playful as he leaned in closer to you. He gently grabs you by the curve of your chin, smoothly caressing it as he keeps his signature yellow smile.

And as if to catch you off guard, he leans in for a chaste peck of the lips. His lips are surprisingly soft for a serial killer, turned hell’s most dangerous overlord. “I love you.” You smile, looking down bashfully.

“I deeply care for you too, my dear.”

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 22

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 21 | Series Masterlist | Part 23

Chapter Word Count: Over 3.8k

Chapter Summary: Bucky decides to take you to the club where you have a chat with Natasha.

Chapter Warnings: Aftermath of physical assault, tension, mention of violence and threats, inner turmoil, crying, kissing, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight. Thank you again for sticking with me! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-in-darkness . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Silence stretched on as Bucky glared at his phone, and you felt uncomfortable with each second that passed. You managed to steal a glance at Curtis who gave a quick shake of the head in response. You sensed he wasn’t about to interrupt whatever thoughts were going through his boss’s mind, but you couldn’t take it.

“What are you going to do?” you asked.

He considered your question with a barely there smile. “I’m going to ignore him.”

You exchanged another look with Curtis who only shook his head again. “Is that a good idea?” you asked.

“I need to talk with the bastard who touched you before I talk to him,” he said. He was out for blood, but he was still thinking somewhat logically. If he spoke to him now, who knew how that would go? “I also want him to squirm.”

Of course, he did. “Should we call Natasha? Because I know you don’t want me to be alone while you… deal with that.”

“No, I don’t,” he confirmed, dialing and putting it on speakerphone.

It didn’t take long for her to answer. “Wasn’t expecting to hear from you, Barnes. Did you upset your girl again? Because whatever happened, I’m likely going to be on her side.”

Curtis snorted before Bucky shot him a glare. “My girl was attacked,” he growled.

You put a hand on his arm. The last thing he needed to do was get worked up. “Is she okay? What the hell happened?” Natasha asked, all traces of her previous sarcasm gone. Her concern was touching. “And who the hell did it?”

“I’m okay,” you assured her. “Well, I’m as okay as I can be,” you added because you weren’t completely okay. No one in your position would be.

“I’ve got the bastard at my club, and I’m going to have a very long talk with him,” he said, fire in his eyes when he looked at you. “No one touches you and gets away with it.”

Except for Bucky himself.

“If she’s okay and you have the guy, why are you calling me? I can’t imagine it’s because you want me to get a hit in, though I wouldn’t mind.”

Bucky smirked. “I know you wouldn’t, but I need you to come to the club and keep an eye on my girl while I handle it,” he said. You knew an order when you heard one. You also figured Bucky didn’t want Natasha alone with you in the penthouse. There was trust between them, but only to an extent.

“You’re really bringing her there?” she asked, muttering something under her breath that you couldn’t catch. “Jesus, you’re not going to make her watch are you?”

You shuddered. A very small fraction of you wanted to witness it and maybe hurt Clark yourself for what he did, but the core of who you were held you back. You weren’t holding Bucky though, were you? You knew whatever happened to Clark wasn’t going to end well, and were you any better than Bucky by letting him dispense his own brand of justice?

Guilt was going to stain your soul and you wanted to desperately wash it away.

“No, she’s going to rest in my office, but I’d rather she not be alone given the circumstances and she suggested that you stay with her,” he said.

“Please,” you said.

“Kotyonok, you don’t have to say please,” Bucky said.

“No, but you should. She isn’t a soldier for you to order around, so use your manners,” you argued, seeing a smile tug at Curtis’s lips. “I understand if you can’t, Natasha,” you said to her. She couldn’t drop everything to watch over you.

“I need to wrap up one thing and I’ll head over if Bucky says ‘please’,” she said after a moment.

Bucky exhaled through his nose when you sweetly smiled. “Will you please watch over my girl?”

“Of course,” she answered easily.

You visibly relaxed. “Thanks.” You weren’t sure how many of the details you’d give her about what happened, but you could ask her about the self-defense lessons.

“Us girls have to stick together,” she said. You suspected she was smiling. “And so you’re aware, Barnes, I’m doing this for her, not you.”

“I know. Just be there,” Bucky said, hanging up without another word.

Curtis assessed you with a cool gaze before he smiled. “You’re sweet, but you’re a little badass, too,” he commented, crossing his arms and turning that cool gaze toward his boss. “I’m really going to enjoy those brownies.”

An arm snaked around your waist before you could respond that you were anything but a badass. “Those brownies are the only thing of hers you’re going to taste because she’s mine,” Bucky said in a low voice.

Heat shot up your neck to your cheeks. “Oh, my god. You’re like a well-dressed caveman, I swear,” you said, pulling away. You hoped Bucky wouldn’t fire Curtis after tonight. “Do you have something I can change into before we go?”

The amusement faded from Curtis’s eyes when he looked at the tear in your cardigan. He looked almost as upset as Bucky. “Yeah, I have a few things,” Bucky answered, leading you down the hall. “Get the car started, and bring her water and a snack with you,” he said over his shoulder.

“Please,” you added, rubbing your temple. “Manners cost nothing.”

“I use manners with you, don’t I?” he teased before he stopped you at the bedroom door. “How’s your head?”

“Hurts a little,” you admitted, seeing his lips set in a grim line. He kissed your forehead a heartbeat later, his lips tenderly brushing your skin. “I wish that took the pain away.”

You weren’t just talking about the headache. You wished he could really be your knight in shining armor who made the hurt stop. He caused so much of this pain, but he still showed up when you were in need. Was he going to help you heal or tear the wounds back open?

“I wish it did, too,” he whispered, letting you go ahead of him. “Closet’s on the right. I can have you take something for your head once we’re in the car.”

You searched for the light and gasped once you turned it on. It was one of the biggest closets you had ever seen, complete with built in shelves and a seating area. The left side was filled with suits, shoes, and more for Bucky. The right side was only half full with dresses and various outfits. There were a few pairs of shoes and handbags, too. You didn’t have to look to know that everything was in your size.

“When did you do this?” you asked, turning around to face him. You expected him to breathe down your neck, but he kept a respectable distance.

“Early on,” he said, tilting his head. “You look surprised.”

“I knew you had pajamas here for me, but I didn't expect more. Thank you,” you said. You weren't sure why you were surprised. He told you countless times you’d be moving in. “If you had clothes for me, why ask if I wanted a whole new wardrobe?”

“Because there's still lots of space to fill up,” he pointed out.

“You said part of the fun of gift giving is surprising the receiver.”

“And you said part of the fun of shopping is picking out your own stuff. You specifically said the next time we went shopping that you wanted to pick everything yourself.”

You ran your fingers along one of the dresses, wanting to be angry as you remembered the incident at the shop. You couldn't find the anger within. There was… something else there instead. “So you listened to me?”

“I always listen to you,” he replied.

“No, you don't, but I do believe you hear every word I say,” you said. There was a big difference between hearing and listening.

He sighed and took your hand. “I’m trying, Kotyonok.”

“I know, Bucky,” you smiled sadly. Bucky was used to being in charge, used to everyone following his orders. You pushed back, challenged him. It had to be foreign territory for him, as much as he said he liked your fire. “And I appreciate it.”

He took a few steps closer when you went to pick a new outfit for yourself. “This really isn’t how I wanted you to be here.”

“What was your plan if I refused to move in?” you asked, not looking at him as you went through the drawers. There was more jewelry for you, too. Between the library and this, he wasn’t kidding about spoiling you.

“I’m sure you remember that Thor and Sam invest in real estate,” he said. You hummed in acknowledgement. “I would’ve had the building bought and forced you out of your place.”

You laughed, a small and sad sound. It wasn’t a shock since it was implied that they were aware of your neighborhood and were interested in a possible investment. Hearing Bucky admit it though, not even bothering to lie or sound ashamed... “You would’ve forced me out of there just to get what you want?”

“What we want. Love and happiness. Together,” he said with fierce determination that bordered on his usual obsession.

Your nails dug into your palms, but only for a moment. “Turn around or leave, please, so I can change,” you said, too emotionally exhausted to deny or argue since love and happiness were things you wanted and he knew it.

“Do you think I’m going to try something?” he asked, sounding hurt.

“I think we're both feeling a lot of emotions, you desperately want me, and your control is hanging on by a thread,” you replied, daring to look at him. There was so much longing in his eyes and his fingers twitched like he wanted to touch you, whether it was to leave his mark or erase Clark’s touch. “And we know that line shouldn’t be crossed tonight.”

He was going to take you to bed eventually. Coaxing you or wearing you down, it was inevitable. He wouldn’t do it tonight though. Not when he wanted revenge on Clark and still needed answers.

It didn't stop him from looking conflicted when he nodded. “I’ll be right outside,” he said, leaving you alone.

Once you determined he wasn’t going to walk back in, you stripped down. The urge to scream rose up when you stared at the discarded cardigan. It was meant to keep you warm, but all you could do was shiver when you thought of your friends at the winery and Clark putting his hands on you. Wiping at your eyes, you threw something simple and comfortable on. You couldn’t keep Bucky waiting.

Bucky stood right beside the door as you walked out, his jaw tight. He must’ve noticed you had gotten teary-eyed again. “You’re breaking my heart,” he whispered, reaching for your hand. “I know what happened isn’t going to fade overnight, but I’ll make you feel safe again. I’ll make you smile, too.”

“You’re a determined man,” you said. In some ways, you felt a little safer. Your library and panic room were safe. He was going to get you a panic button. Ray and Curtis had an eye on you. You had a feeling Bucky wouldn't let you stray too far away from him for a while.

As far as him making you smile, you wondered how he planned to do that.

You didn’t speak when Bucky took you to the car, silently drinking and eating while he stayed tense beside you. Curtis didn't say a word either. Your stomach turned, but it had nothing to do with your head. There was tension in the vehicle, each passing second bringing Bucky closer to unleashing his rage on someone who dared to hurt you.

“What would your mom have done if someone put a hand on you?” you finally asked to break the silence.

“She would've been compassionate but firm. Protective but encourage me to speak up and defend myself. And she would've made sure that person never laid a finger on me ever again,” he said proudly.

Your heart ached as you thought of your parents. They’d never know what happened to you because they’d never bother to ask how you were doing and you’d never bother to tell them because they wouldn't fight for you. Brick by brick it was another wall you put up. Bucky continued to hand you the tools to build it, all while tearing down the wall you tried to put between you and him.

“I want to do something normal tomorrow,” you said, voluntarily resting your head on Bucky’s shoulder. The gesture helped him relax. You, too. “Something besides resting.”

“How about that pizza and a movie date night we talked about?” he suggested, tenderly rubbing your arm. “That’s normal.”

“Can I pick the movie?”

“You can pick whatever movie you want,” he promised.

You lifted your head to gaze at him. “I know I can’t stop you from doing whatever it is you’re going to do,” you began. There would be no reasoning with him in that matter. “But how can I help you after?”

He tried not to give anything away, but his eyes filled with shock. “You… want to help me?”

“I don’t know what kind of mood you’ll be in once you’re done. I don’t know if you’ll want attention and be clingy or if you’ll want to be alone so you can cool off. So when it’s said and done, please, tell me what you need so I can give it to you to the best of my ability,” you answered.

You were tired of walking on eggshells. You wouldn't do it in your new home. If you were going to be with him, you had to know how to handle him after something of this magnitude.

You heard him sigh before his lips touched yours. “I just need you,” he whispered, your heart fluttering when he kissed you again, deeper. It wasn’t forceful though. It was slow and deliberate without pushing or taking too much. He didn’t try to pull you back in either when you pulled away. That was progress.

“We’re here,” Curtis said.

“I’m going to help you after this, too, however I can,” he promised, brushing a soft kiss against your lips and helping you out of the car.

Who knew this incident was something that would bring you closer together?

You spotted Natasha leaning against a sleek black car with a bored look on her face. “How did I beat you here?” she asked before locking eyes with you. There was sympathy and concern there. “This wasn’t how I wanted to see you again.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” you said, glancing at the sign for the club. It was strange not seeing it lit up.

“Let’s get inside,” Bucky ordered, giving you a slight smile. “Please.”

Natasha brushed by Curtis. “Everett.”

“Romanoff,” he acknowledged.

There was no bass reverberating through the walls, no signs of patrons drinking and dancing. No Hal at the bar or Jax or Ari keeping watch. The usual energy of nightlife and sex and fun were nowhere to be found. Minus the footsteps across the floor, there was no other sound.

“Ray,” you whispered when he came through a door. He looked as pristine as always, but the hard blinks gave away his agitation.

“Everyone’s downstairs, boss,” he said, pushing his glasses up. “Are you alright?” he asked you, his voice much softer.

Bucky’s hold tightened on you once again. You were really going to have to work on his possessive streak, especially when it came to his own men. “I’m as okay as I can be,” you said, giving him a small smile.

“Let me take her up to the office and I’ll be right down,” Bucky said.

When you imagined the look of a killer, you imagined something lifeless and empty. Bucky’s eyes were always full of fire and passion when it came to you. But the cold look that crossed his face when he walked you to his office, you saw a glimpse of the danger he spoke about. Clark wasn’t going to get any mercy or care from Bucky.

“The couch is pretty comfortable to sleep on and there’s a fridge and some food, too, if you’re still hungry,” he said, grabbing a pillow and blanket that he had stashed away. “If you need me, push the red button on the right side of my desk.”

“I think I'll be okay,” you said, taking a seat on the couch while Natasha took one of the chairs.

Bucky tipped your chin up. “I don’t know how long I’ll be, but try to get some rest,” he said, leaning down. You expected a kiss, but he just brushed his nose against yours. “And I know you can’t say you love me yet, but just know that I love you and this is all for you.”

You exhaled when he straightened up. Was it all for you? “Please, be careful and don’t lose yourself,” you said. Whatever demon was going to surface within Bucky tonight couldn’t permanently stay because it would destroy you both if it did.

“I won’t lose myself.” The smile he gave you could’ve melted hearts. “I have you to come back to.”

With that, Bucky left the office and shut the door behind him.

“Well,” Natasha said, leaning forward in her chair. “I have a feeling you won’t be going to sleep right away.”

“No, I won’t,” you agreed. You couldn’t since your mind was racing with too many thoughts of what happened and what would happen.

“You don’t have to say a word,” she assured you. “If you do want to talk about what happened though, I’ll listen.”

You told her everything. How Clark used to come into the shop for roses for Lois. How he tried to give you flowers and showed up when you weren’t at the shop. How upset he was when you turned down his offer for coffee and how he was waiting for you tonight. The hatred he seemed to have for Bucky, the mention of a powerful friend, that he didn’t confirm or deny that it was Zemo. What he did once he was in your apartment, Bucky and some of his men saving you. All of it. And by the time you finished, you were sniffling and exhausted.

Natasha, looking as cool and calm as always, handed you a tissue. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. You don’t deserve it.”

You blew your nose. “No one deserves it,” you said. It wasn’t something you’d wish on anyone.

“If you need a place a stay-”

“I’m in the penthouse now, which is exactly what Bucky wanted all along,” you said, and you believed Bucky when he said it wasn’t how you were supposed to eventually be there. “I appreciate the offer though.”

“Okay. I’ll back off for now.” She tapped a finger against the chair arm. “May I say something else?”

“I won’t stop you.”

“The powerful friend of Clark’s may be Zemo, but I don’t think he would’ve ordered him to attack you the way he did. If you had resisted going with Clark and it was really on Zemo’s orders, he should’ve backed off instead of laying a hand on you.”

“But Zemo lost his wife and kid. Maybe he wouldn’t care if I got hurt,” you said. Losing loved ones like that could drive people to do extreme things.

“He’s more strategic than that and he knows someone hurting you could start a war,” she said, shaking her head. If that was true and Clark took matters into his own hands, what did that mean for Zemo? “Something isn’t adding up here. We have to talk to Barnes when he’s done.”

Your fingers twisted in the blanket. The entire situation was so much to take in. “Am I a bad person for not stopping Bucky?” you asked suddenly.

“What? No. No.” She straightened up and shook her head. “Don't do that to yourself.”

“But I know he’s going to hurt Clark. Maybe kill him. And I-”

“You’re not a bad person, do you hear me?” Natasha left her chair to sit near you, but kept a distance and made sure she didn’t touch you. “Listen to me. Clark crossed boundaries and attacked you. Barnes crossed boundaries, too, but he never once went to that level. Even if a part of you does want revenge it doesn't make you a bad person. Wanting justice makes you human.”

“But Bucky’s making his own brand of justice.”

“They have their own rules when it comes to what's theirs and someone put their hands on the top dog’s girl. He can't let that slide. None of those men can,” she said.

That was the world you lived in now. “So, even though you believe I have power over Bucky, I couldn't have stopped him if I tried?” you asked.

“As powerful as you are, even if you got down on your knees and begged, it wouldn't stop him from doing what he thinks he has to do in this situation,” the redhead answered. You were afraid of that. “But you don't have to carry that guilt. Their actions, Clark’s, Bucky’s, any of them, they chose those paths. Not you.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, dabbing at your eyes with a fresh tissue. “Sorry for crying.”

“After everything you’ve been through, it would worry me if you didn’t cry.”

You had to laugh since she had a point. “I told Bucky I want to be able to defend myself in case anything happens again. I’d really like it if you could teach me.”

You didn’t have to tell her that you didn’t want a man teaching you. She was smart, intuitive. “I’d love to teach you. Just tell me when you want to start and I’ll make it happen,” she said, sighing when her phone went off. “I’m sorry. It’s my sister.”

“Take it,” you said. She had already done enough by listening to you and agreeing to the self-defense lessons.

“Yelena, I’m kind of busy at the moment,” she answered, gripping her phone tighter. “He’s what?”

“What’s the matter?” you asked, though it was none of your business.

Natasha pulled the phone away from her ear. “My sister’s a block away from the club. Want to take a guess who she’s following?”

“Zemo?” you guessed, your stomach sinking again. Was he coming here because Bucky ignored his message?

“Yep, but don’t worry. She’ll make sure he doesn’t make it inside.”

Whether Zemo got into the club or not, you were going to get answers. It was the least you deserved. Because this was your life, and you were tired of people playing with it like you were a doll.

I'm so glad Natasha is there for our girl. Is she onto something with Zemo? And we may get a surprise in the next update. 😏 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[lucygraysboy]

feeling the passion with which lucy gray’s mouth is working against his, billy’s joints seem to liquefy and he hauls her petite body further up into his lap, any hesitancy and carefulness dissolving into this feverish need to make her feel loved, to assure her all his promises are to be kept, to show her that she’s everything to him. his songbird. his soulmate. his whole world. his skin erupts with goose bumps, melting beneath her touch. she kisses so sweetly, so fiercely that it has his head spinning, floating. his tongue brushes her bottom lip, shyly at first, as though he was just trying to taste more of this vanilla lipgloss that he seems to be hooked on now, but then another unsolicited sigh escapes him. a hum of delight. hand guiding her, angling her face to deepen the kiss. the heat of her mouth scorching compared even to the warmth of the water, sending sparks showering across the backs of his eyes. his tongue slips between her lips, experimentally, and then a little deeper, tangling with hers. and for a moment, she’s the only thing on his oxygen-deprived mind. no feeling other than being here with her matters. his grip tightens, fingers struggling to refrain from traveling to other places, exploring the rest of her gorgeous body. her thighs, her hips, her chest. but he doesn’t want to scare her away, push his luck or embarrass himself by letting this make-out session get out of hand. he never wants this moment to end, but he can feel jolts of anticipation racing straight to his groin, nerve-endings tingling, and ends up pulling back from her, his forehead resting against hers, his heart slamming into her chest. “i love you,” he whispers breathlessly, not caring if she says it back. he just needs to let the universe know, get it off his chest. “more than anyone and anything.” 

“i have to believe you now, hm. got no choice but to.” the brunette teases, slender arms looping around his neck now. even if she’s being impulsive right now, she wants the same things, being his little bird. being his forever, when she’s already been so since the day they met. fear holds her down from blurting everything, like last time. there’ll have to be a certain amount of time to go by before she gets brave like that again. even if she’s kissing him now. heat radiates beneath her cheeks and the warm water serves nothing beneficial to keep her temperature down, understanding the fever in the kiss too— because she answers to it by kissing him longer than she intended and harder. their eyelashes almost touching, coming up for air, just to crash into him again. lips taking his bottom lip between hers now, then his upper again, giving away all evidence how hungry she’s been for him too. she meant to just give billy a test sample and now here she is making out with him, devouring his taste, hanging onto him and kissing him like there’s no tomorrow. and so frustratingly, he always gets away with it too. anyone else, she wouldn’t be so vulnerable to. and there’s the other part of vulnerability, her body radiating with waves of lovemones, lucy gray grows weaker in his hold and nearly melts against his hand touching her face and back that cause all these fireworks in her chest while their lips connect over and over. fingers in his hair gently clutching his thick curls as the only way to anchor herself in this storm of weakness. nearly blurting something crazy, like she loves him too, all these games are old by now, can they just be crazy in love together without anymore obstacles because they’re written in the stars anyway. but luckily, savoring the last bit of the heated kiss keeps her mouth shut and a reluctance to pull away.

[klausysworld]

I absolutely NEED a one shot where klaus like always gets a hard 0n when Yn around or he thinks of her

His family teases him and Yn doesn’t have clue about his crush on her

Helpless

Klaus couldn't help the way his body reacted to her. It wasn't his fault that she was always so perfect.

In fact, Klaus blamed Rebekah.

She had been the one to befriend Y/N, they met at Mystical Falls High School when Rebekah tried out for the cheerleaders. Caroline had been salty about it but Y/N was happy to invite new people in.

Rebekah took a liking to her in an instant and ended up inviting her round.

That's how Klaus met her. Finding an unknown girl stood in his kitchen in only a tiny little skort and what could barely be called a top. Y/N only smiled at him and introduced herself as Rebekah's friend.

The idea of his younger sister making a friend so easily would have amused him but his thoughts had quickly ran away from him as he took her in. His viewing was cut short when Rebekah shoved him out the way.

"Sorry Y/N, that's Nik." She mumbled as she opened the cupboard to look for something for Y/N to eat. "Damn. We'll have to order something, come on." She shrugged and grabbed Y/N's hand, pulling her back upstairs.

Y/N was over often and Klaus had become accustomed to seeing her in her cheer outfit but that didn't mean he didn't feel anything.

Rebekah had only noticed it when she saw him pull a pillow over his lap part way through a movie. She knew that Klaus had a little crush on Y/N, that wasn't hard to realise with how often he looked at her and how easily his lips upturned in her presence but realising the extent made her smirk.

Rebekah would start 'lending' clothes to Y/N the day after a sleepover, having her dress in tight little shorts and tube tops. Convincing her that she didn't need to wear a bra round the house.

Klaus was almost drooling.

His fingers dug into the couch when she sat beside him after Rebekah had spread herself out across the other sofa. Klaus was too focused on not staring at Y/N's nipples to notice Rebekah's obvious game play.

When it had gotten late and Y/N started getting tired but the film wasn't finished Rebekah decided to push it. "You can always lay down. Nik doesn't mind, he even has a pillow. Just rest on his lap." Her words sounded to passive and innocent that Y/N just glanced to Klaus who, no matter how badly he knew he should've said no, nodded his head and adjusted the pillow.

Before he knew it his fingers were stroking her hair, his hips desperately holding back when she made small sounds on contempt.

Once she was asleep he couldn't help but touch her face, trace each feature. Bekah had gone to the bathroom, leaving him alone with her and his thoughts. He couldn't help but stroke her bottom lip with his thumb. As soon as he heard the door shut his hands were pulled away and he was sat back against the cushions but Rebekah knew what he wanted.

She started having lollipops on hand, always having one to give to Y/N. Klaus was losing it.

Once or twice she'd forgotten to finish her lolly, leaving it somewhere by accident. Klaus would end up licking her taste fresh from it, his eyes closing as he sucked her flavour down.

He could just about restrain himself from acting on his feelings.

Until all his other siblings were woken and also caught onto the situation. Kol would shamelessly flirt with Y/N, purposefully trying to make Klaus flip out. Even Elijah had picked up on it. He'd clear his throat and glance Klaus down, reminding his brother to cover his arousal with an amused smile on his face when Niklaus would go a beat red and pull a pillow over himself again. Kol had started calling it his 'problem pillow'.

Rebekah was subtle but Kol? Brutal.

"Don't tell me Nik's cum on his pillow again!" He'd call loud enough that it made Klaus shoot up out of his seat in panic that Y/N had heard but not quite loud enough that it would travel up the stairs to where Y/N actually was.

"Someone's in a sticky situation-" He'd jest before a book was lobbed at his head.

"You know Y/N if you're feeling stressed, I'm positive Nik would pound it out of you." He'd grin but Y/N didn't get it; thank god.

Klaus would shove Kol out the room, out the house sometimes and storm up the stairs.

Was it embarrassing? Of course. Was it hilarious for the others? Obviously.

Once Y/N figured it out and joined in on the teasing it was too much to bare.