#he wants that guy. he wants his hands and grin and teasing voice all to himself and not on eddie.

[tender-rosiey]

lock jaw — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: when I said silence, I meant it literally btw <3

it starts the way it always does—with him talking.

satoru loves to talk. he thrives on it, really.

his voice fills every space he enters, a mix of cocky and teasing remarks, words tumbling out of him like they were just waiting for an audience.

he has no problem being that audience himself, either, monologuing even when no one’s listening.

and right now? right now, he’s very much talking at you.

“—so obviously, I had to step in, because nanamin was totally going about it the wrong way, y’know? I mean, the guy’s got skill, sure, but zero flare. no pizzazz. no—hey, are you even listening?”

you are. technically. but you don’t give him the satisfaction of confirming it.

instead, you tilt your head up at him, one brow raised in that way that always makes his grin twitch wider.

satoru doesn’t like being ignored. that’s why you do it.

and, sure enough, he scoffs. “oh, I see how it is. you think you’re cute, huh?”

you hum, noncommittal.

his fingers drum against the table, restless energy leaking into movement. “it’s a good thing you’re married to me, ‘cause—”

you lift a hand.

it’s not much. just a simple flick of your wrist.

the moment your fingers move, his words catch, cut off like someone pressed pause on a song mid-verse. his mouth is still open, brows furrowed like he can’t quite believe it.

oh, but he believes it.

your technique has always been a thorn in his side. you don’t know what makes it work, just that it does.

no one else can silence him like this—literally silence him, rendering every word, every noise, completely null the second you decide you’ve had enough.

it drives him insane.

you let a few beats of silence pass before you drop your hand. his voice snaps back into existence, mid-word.

“—ain’t no way you just did that again,” he grumbles, like this is somehow the first time.

his mouth pulls into a pout, the corners twitching with the threat of a smirk. “y’know, most wives enjoy hearing their husband talk.”

“I do,” you say, because it’s true.

satoru leans in, one hand propped beneath his chin. “so? why do you keep shutting me up, then?”

you lift your fingers again, just slightly, and watch the way his whole body stiffens in response. he goes silent before you even activate it, eyes narrowing.

“I swear—”

your fingers twitch.

nothing.

his mouth slams shut anyway, like muscle memory has kicked in. his whole face scrunches up, torn between irritation and reluctant amusement.

it takes him a second to realize you never actually used your technique, and when he does, his eye twitches.

“oh, you suck.”

you smile. “I know.”

satoru groans, dragging a hand down his face. “how’d I get stuck with you?”

you just hum, pretending to think. “bad luck?”

he snorts.

and just like that, whatever annoyance he was pretending to have dissolves into something else—something warmer. his head tilts, his voice dropping into that low, teasing hum. “or maybe good luck.”

you don’t let yourself react, but a wave of warmth rushes through you anyway. his eyes gleam behind his glasses, sharp and knowing. he feels it, too.

it’s always been like this with satoru—this push and pull, this game of who can get under whose skin first. he hates being shut up. but he loves being shut up by you.

that’s probably why he keeps trying.

the next time he catches you alone, it’s in the kitchen.

you’re getting water, half-distracted, when arms loop around your waist from behind, a chin dropping onto your shoulder.

“whatcha doin’?”

“getting water,” you deadpan.

“oooh. riveting.” his arms tighten just slightly, like he’s trying to keep you there. “y’know, I was thinking.”

“that’s new.”

satoru gasps, scandalized. “rude!”

he nuzzles closer, all dramatic offense and fake hurt. “as I was saying—I was thinking about how unfair it is that you get to shut me up whenever you want, but I can’t do the same to you.”

you sip your water, unimpressed. “sounds like a you problem.”

“exactly! and since we’re married, your problems are my problems—so really, we should fix this together.”

you know where this is going. you don’t like where it’s going.

“…no.”

“but I didn’t even—”

“no.”

his arms squeeze tighter, his voice dropping into that saccharine lilt. “c’mooon. just one little pact—no more silencing me, and in return…”

“in return what?” you ask, humoring him.

“in return, I’ll—uh—” he pauses. “I’ll try not to annoy you as much?”

you turn your head just enough to squint at him. “you could just not annoy me in the first place.”

“pfft. impossible.”

you roll your eyes, setting your glass down. “then no deal.”

satoru pouts. “you’re no fun.”

“I’m plenty fun.”

“not to me.”

you lift a hand.

his mouth clamps shut instantly.

“…I hate you.”

you drop your hand. “no, you don’t.”

his pout deepens. “no, I don’t.”

and because he’s satoru—because he’s infuriating—he suddenly dips forward and presses a kiss to your cheek.

it’s quick, but deliberate, with his lips lingering just enough to tease you. by the time you turn to scold him, he’s already slipping away, whistling like nothing happened.

the sneaking doesn’t stop.

if anything, it gets worse.

he tests you in public now, dropping snarky comments just to see if you’ll silence him mid-sentence.

he tries to get the upper hand, too—kissing you without warning, murmuring things low enough that only you can hear, things designed to throw you off balance.

and it works. sometimes.

but the thing about satoru? he talks a lot.

he always has.

and that’s exactly why you win.

it happens in front of his students.

which, really, is something he should’ve seen coming.

you’re standing off to the side, arms crossed, watching as megumi practices his stance. nobara is stretching. yuji is bouncing on his feet like he’s ready to fight someone on the spot.

it’s peaceful. quiet.

and, naturally, satoru can’t have that.

he claps his hands together. “alright, kiddos! who’s ready for an essential, life-changing lesson?”

yuji perks up immediately. “ooh, what kinda lesson?”

“the most important kind,” satoru declares, straightening his posture like he’s about to reveal the secrets of the universe. “a lesson in style.”

megumi exhales sharply. nobara groans. you don’t even have to look to know they’re both already tuning him out.

but he’s not done.

“you may think you know fashion, but you don’t. not like me. there are levels to this—depths of drip, if you will—like an expertly curated wardrobe of absolute perfection.”

he gestures grandly to himself. “and lucky for you, I am both your teacher and your fashion icon.”

nobara shoots you a look. “this is every day for you, isn’t it?”

“unfortunately.”

satoru hears it. of course, he hears it.

he places a hand over his chest like you’ve wounded him. “unfortunately?” he echoes, all faux devastation. “sweetheart, you wound me.”

yuji chokes on a laugh. “wow, sensei. that was fast.”

“you don’t get it, yuji.” satoru points at you, sunglasses slipping down his nose.

“this woman right here? my beloved, my precious, my better half? she is cruel.” he sighs, tilting his head dramatically.

“every day, she shuts me up without a second thought. do you know how unfair that is? the strongest sorcerer in the world, silenced—just like that.”

megumi, who has absolutely witnessed this before, doesn’t even look up. “sounds like you deserve it.”

satoru gasps. “et tu, megumi?”

“yeah,” megumi deadpans. “et me.”

satoru clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “see? this is what I deal with. betrayal. disrespect. my own wife using her technique against me at every turn.”

yuji raises a hand. “wait, wait—so she actually can shut you up?”

“oh, she can,” satoru grumbles. “and she does.”

nobara perks up, eyes gleaming. “no way. prove it.”

satoru freezes.

you see the exact moment realization dawns on him��what he’s just done, the challenge he’s issued on your behalf.

you see it in the way his jaw shifts, the way his weight shifts ever so slightly on his heels.

you raise a brow. “you want me to prove it?”

satoru narrows his eyes. “don’t you dare.”

you lift your hand.

“don’t you—”

silence.

satoru’s mouth is still open, but no sound comes out. nothing. not even the beginnings of a protest. his lips move, forming words you can’t hear, before he snaps his mouth shut entirely.

the silence stretches.

then—

“oh my god,” nobara breathes.

yuji loses his mind.

megumi simply nods. “good.”

satoru’s eye twitches. he points at you, accusing, but there’s nothing he can do. you smile sweetly.

after a long beat, you drop your hand.

“—believe you just did that in front of my students,” he huffs, voice returning in the middle of a sentence.

his sunglasses slide down his nose, revealing wide, scandalized eyes. “my own wife, betraying me in front of my kids.”

“they asked me to.”

“yeah,” nobara pipes up. “that was amazing. do it again.”

satoru splutters. “hey! whose side are you on?”

yuji is grinning. “I mean, sensei, that was kinda cool.”

“it was humiliating!”

“you deserved it.”

“I did not!”

you hum, faux thoughtful. “you kinda did.”

satoru stares at you, horrified. “et tu, my love?”

“yeah.” you smirk. “et me.”

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[houseofaegon]

SKINNY DIPPING pt. 2 ✩ Wally Clark

Pairings: Wally Clark x Fem!reader

Warnings: +18 SMUT MINORS DNI. very slow burn. semi-public sex, unprotected p in v, teasing, heavy sexual tension, explicit dirty talk, praising, degradation, skinny dipping in a public pool, possesiveness/jealousy, light choking, rough gripping & mandhandling, overstimulation, wally being a cocky little shit and very possessive, kinda dom!wally, risk of getting caught, begging, breeding kink. wally whimpering???? (god have mercy)

Summary: For what feels like an eternity, Y/n and Wally have been nothing more than just friends. but that changes one reckless night when they decide to cross skinny dipping off their "100 things to do before crossing over" bucket list. Teasing and meaningless flirting turn heated, and the tension that has been simmering between them finally snaps. Under the moonlit water, boundaries blur, and their friendship is completely wrecked, in the best possible way.

Author's note: this is part 2!! Part 1 is linked below <3 And part 3 soon! I had to take a moment to breath and relax while writing this cause hello????? god jesus have mercy I'm literally gnawing at the bars of my enclosure. Also, thank you so much for the love on part 1!! it made me soooo happy to see you guys liked it <3333 it means the world to me!

Word count: 4043

Song choices: lose control - teddy swims, tear you apart - she wants revenge, closer - nine inch nails, flawless - the neighbourhood, do i wanna know? - arctic monkeys, TiO - zayn, again - noah cyrus.

masterlist. part 1. part 2. part 3

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"So...Skinny dipping?" his lips brushed against your ear, his voice now a low whisper.

"Skinny dipping," you repeated, lips curving into a playful grin. "Just don't get all excited to see me naked, Clark," you teased, pushing him lightly. "And hands to yourself," you added.

He raised an eyebrow, his eyes darkening a little. He couldn't help but smirk as well. He was excited at the thought of seeing you like that.

"I make no promises," he replied with a teasing grin, his raspy voice sending shivers down your spine.

"I mean it, Clark," you huffed, rolling your eyes, though the warmth you felt bubbling up inside you betrayed the annoyance you were trying to fake.

He leaned in again, his face mere inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin. "Can you blame me, though?" his voice dipped lower, rougher, almost a whisper. "You look so damn pretty, I can't help but flirt a little."

Your pulse quickened, but you refused to let him notice it. You pushed him back again, keeping the smirk on your lips. "Yeah, yeah," you drawled, tilting your head. "Am I the first girl you've ever said this to? Or the fourth? Or ninetieth?"

He lets out a short laugh, shaking his head. The truth was, Wally had a certain reputation, and everyone knew it. His charming smiles, teasing grins, and how he made girls feel like they were the center of his world… He never meant any of it. None of the girls he flirted with ever came close to you, to how you made him feel.

He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes. His gaze held yours, unwavering.

"None of those girls were you," he said quietly. "And none of them meant anything to me."

With a dramatic sigh, you place your hand over your forehead, pretending to swoon. "Oh, Wally! How you make my heart race!"

His laugh was loud, unrestrained, the kind of laugh that made your stomach flip every single time you heard it. He rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he nudged you in the stomach. "Oh, shut up," he said, grinning. "You're such a dork, you know that?"

"And you love it," you shot back, tilting your chin up in defiance.

Wally didn't answer immediately. Instead, his smirk faded slightly, and it made your chest feel too tight. He took a step closer again.

"Yeah," he admitted, voice just above a whisper. "I do."

The teasing had completely vanished now. Your throat suddenly felt dry, your pulse hammering in your ears. Something in his eyes told you that he wasn't playing anymore.

Your mouth opened, but before you could say anything, he lifted a hand, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered just a second too long, his touch light, but it managed to burn right through you.

He knew exactly what he was doing. The way he spoke, the way his gaze bore into you, the slight grin on his lips—it was all too deliberate, too calculated, and it made your pulse quicken. His eyes didn't lie, it was pure desire that clouded them and his judgment too. Wally had always been a flirt with everyone, and you were no exception. There had always been playful and flirty banter between you, but it was nothing more than a game. Nothing more than playful teasing. This? This felt different, it felt real. Lines were getting blurry, and your body was reacting in a way you never thought possible.

"You're trouble, you know that?" he murmured, his thumb grazing your jaw.

Your breath hitched. "Takes one to know one," you whispered back.

His eyes darkened, and for a second, you thought he was going to close the distance between you completely. Your heart slammed against your ribs, anticipation running through every nerve in your body.

With a smooth, effortless motion, Wally pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside like it was nothing. He knew you were watching him, and you did. You watched him, you couldn't tear your eyes away, hypnotized by his every movement, by the way the moonlight caressed his skin, his body gleaming under the soft light. You had seen him shirtless plenty of times before–he loved to work out and flaunt what he'd earned. But tonight? Tonight felt so much different. 

Your heart skipped a beat as you let your gaze travel down his chest, the way his abs tightened as he took off his shorts, kicking them aside, leaving only his boxers on. "You coming?" his voice was casual. But the way his eyes roamed over you, the way his smirk depended as he noticed the way you couldn’t keep your eyes off him, it was anything but innocent. "Go ahead," he added, nodding toward the water. "Get in first. I'll be right behind you."

You folded your arms over your chest, tilting your head as you arched a brow. "Oh, I see what you're doing," you mused, propping yourself on your hip. "You want me to strip first so you can get a show, huh?"

Wally's grin became bigger, shameless, and cocky. "And if I do?" he murmured.

"Then that makes you predictable," you shot back, tilting your head trying to feign disinterest.

His smirk didn't waver. If anything, it grew bolder. "Or just a man with very good taste," he countered smoothly, stepping closer. "But, hey, if you're too shy—"

Before he could finish, you grabbed the hem of your white shirt and pulled it over your head, letting it drop carelessly onto the ground. His smirk vanished. It was only for a second, but you saw it, the way his throat bobbed, the way his gaze dropped, drinking every inch of you. Satisfaction curled in your stomach.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips. That cocky smirk? Gone. Replaced by something you couldn't quite place, something darker, deeper. Something raw.

You stepped toward the pool, your back to him, deliberately ignoring his presence, pretending you didn't feel the heat of his gaze burning into you. "You were saying?" you teased, sliding your skirt down inch by inch, slowly, letting it slip past your thighs and pool at your feet before stepping out of it. "What was that about me being too shy?"

A smirk tugged at your lips as you tilted your head just enough to catch a glimpse of him over your shoulder. Victory. He wasn't smirking anymore—his mouth slightly parted, eyes darker, stance tense like he was barely holding himself together. You had him right where you wanted him.

But you weren't done. If he wanted a show, he was gonna get one.

Keeping your gaze locked on his, you let your hands drift behind your back, fingers working the clasp of your lace bra with infuriating slowness. You could see the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his chest rising and falling faster.

The straps slid down your shoulders, the cool night air hitting your skin, making your nipples harden instantly. And still, you watched him, letting his gaze devour you. Letting the bra drop, you let yourself bask in the way his pupils dilated, the way his hands clenched, every single vein and muscle in his arms tensing like he was fighting every instinct to move towards you and touch you.

And he was. God, he was fighting it, hard. Every demon inside him was telling him to grab you, to pull you close to him, to feel your skin against his, to claim you.

With a wicked grin, you toyed with the waistband of your lace black underwear, sliding it down, teasing him slowly. "Cat got your tongue, Clark?" you chuckled. Before he could answer, you turned your head and slipped into the pool.

When you submerged in the water, disappearing from his view, he let out a sharp exhale, the sound more like a whimper. As you resurfaced, he could've sworn he stopped breathing. You were everything he had ever wanted, and to see you there, bare, wet, and exposed? It was almost too much for him to handle.

His hands clenched into fists, his entire body trembling with the effort to restrain himself. His gaze didn't waver—it never left your body, exploring every inch of you.

You looked mesmerizing, the way the moonlight made your wet skin glow underneath it. He was desperate to touch you, to run his hands over your perfectly soft skin.

You ran your hands over your wet, slicked-back hair, your gaze on him. Wally stood there, frozen, eyes dark and fixed on you.

It was intoxicating, the power you had over him.

"What happened to all that smooth talk, Clark?" you teased, tilting your head, a playful smirk on your lips. "You suddenly forgot how to speak?"

That did it.

Wally's jaw locked, his hands clenched at his sides like he was physically restraining himself. For a second, you thought he might actually fight it—might crack a joke, roll his eyes, brush it off like he always did, return to his usual cocky self.

But then, without hesitation, he shoved his boxers down and kicked them aside. His eyes never leaving yours.

Your breath caught in your throat.

He stood before you, the hard lines of his body tense with restraint, every muscle in his stomach flexing as he fought for control. And then there was the unmistakable evidence of his arousal, thick and hard, a blatant display of everything he wanted—everything he wanted from you.

A shiver went down your spine, heat pooling in your stomach as your eyes slowly flickered up to his.

He didn't say a word. He just stepped forward, smoothly, deliberately, like a predator hunting its prey, before dipping into the pool. The water rippled as he disappeared beneath the surface. And then, he surged back up, breaking through the water right in front of you, so close that droplets splashed on your face, so close that his lips nearly brushed yours as he exhaled a deep, slow breath.

You inhaled sharply, instinctively swimming back, but his hands were already on your waist, locking you in place. Holding you right there, right where he wanted.

“What happened to all that smooth talk, sweetheart?" he repeated your exact words, the term of endearment making your stomach flip. His voice low, almost teasing. "You suddenly forgot how to speak?"

Your pulse hammered against your ribs. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to smirk even as every nerve in your body buzzed with anticipation. This was dangerous, you knew it, and he did too.

But neither of you seemed to care.

"You think you're real cute, don't you?" his voice was low and rough, every word seemed to vibrate through your chest as his lips hovered just above yours, his breath warm against your skin. His voice made your knees weak.

You grinned, hands sliding up his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. "I don't think," you whispered. "I know."

A low growl rumbled in his throat. And suddenly, you weren't smirking anymore. There wasn't a single hint of playfulness in his eyes. They were filled with pure and raw heat. Dangerous, Hungry. His grip tightened, pulling you flush against him. Beneath the water, skin met skin, heat against heat. It was undeniable now, impossible to ignore, impossible to run away from. Everything you tried to ignore, every line you'd both tried so hard not to cross.

Everything was collapsing in on itself.

This was happening.

This was real.

"You have no idea what you're doing to me." His voice was thick with frustration, like he was holding back every ounce of self-control. Every inch of him trembled beneath your hands, his chest rising and falling too fast, his fingers digging into your waist. The struggle was written all over his face. He wanted you. You could see it. Feel it. He was trying so hard to hold back.

And God, he wanted to. You could feel it in the way his body tensed against yours, in the way his jaw clenched, in the way his lips hovered right there, barely an inch away, like he was dying to close the distance. Dying to taste you.

You inhaled sharply, your heart slamming against your ribs. What the hell were you doing?

Stripping in front of him? Letting him see you like this, bare and exposed? Teasing him? Knowing exactly what it would do to him?

It wasn't like you at all.

It wasn't like either of you.

This wasn't the playful banter you'd always shared. It never got further than simple jokes and meaningless teasing. This? This was territory neither of you had ever ventured into. There was a thin, fragile line. You wanted to cross it. You needed to. But the fear... the fear of losing everything you had—the fear of losing him—kept you hanging on, just barely.

Wally swallowed hard, his fingers tracing slow, agonizing patterns against your skin. "You're dangerous," he whispered again, lower this time, rougher, as if the words were ripped straight from his chest. His hands tightened against your hips beneath the water, his eyes locked onto yours, searching for hesitation—begging for it, for a reason to stop.

But there was none.

The words slipped out of your mouth before you could even think. "Am I?"

His breath caught a subtle tremor in his jaw. "Don't tease me," he growled. "You have no idea what you're getting yourself into."

But you did.

And so did he.

His forehead dipped to yours, his breathing uneven. Your hands slid up, curling around the back of his neck, fingers threading through his wet hair. His eyes squeezed shut like he was trying—really trying—to fight it.

But there was nothing left to fight.

You’d both lost this battle a long time ago.

"You know this changes everything," he whispered, his voice raw, breaking over the words. His thumb brushed your skin, so painfully slow, like he was memorizing you, like he was savoring this moment.

Your chest tightened. You knew he was right. You knew this was it—the point of no return.

But it was too late for second thoughts.

Your lips parted, breath shaking. His eyes darkened at the sight of your open mouth, the sounds of your shaky breath making his pulse quicken. He was undone. Completely undone. All his hesitation, his willpower, his good intentions. Gone. He was drowning in you.

"Maybe it should," you whispered.

A sharp inhale. His hands gripped you tighter, and his forehead dropped fully against yours. "You have no idea what you're saying."

You let out a soft, breathless laugh. "Oh, I think I do."

His head lifted just enough for your eyes to lock, his pupils blown wide, lips slightly parted. His mouth was right there. Just a little more...

"You don't fucking get it," he rasped, his hands sliding up, thumbs brushing the underside of your ribs. "If we do this—if I kiss you—I won’t be able to stop. I won’t be able to just pretend it didn’t happen. You know that, don’t you?”

Your pulse slammed in your throat, and you nodded, barely breathing.

His fingers traced slow, lazy circles against your skin, like he was trying to soothe himself, trying to keep his composure. But you could feel it—the tension radiating off him, the heat rolling off his body even beneath the water.

"What if I don't want you to stop?" you whispered.

His eyes darkened, the grip on your waist tightening, pressing into your skin, making you groan. You were sure he was going to leave bruises, but you didn’t care. 

His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking as he sucked in a sharp breath through his nose. "You think this is a fucking game?"

“A little," you replied, a playful smirk dancing on your lips.

Wally let out a strained, bitter chuckle, but there was no humor in his eyes. No playfulness was left in the smile that painted his face. “You wanna keep playing?” he murmured, his voice rough, teasing, but there was an edge to it now, something deeper, dangerous. “Because I can play, sweetheart. But you better be ready for what happens when I stop holding back. When I stop pretending, we can go back to how things were. When I stop fucking pretending we're just friends.”

With a growl, he pushed you through the water until your back hit the edge of the pool. The impact and the feeling of the cold tiles sent a sharp shiver down your spine, making you gasp. The way he mandhandled you with such ease, his grip so possessive, the way his body caged you in completely, it made your head spin. 

His lips brushed yours—just barely. But it was enough to make your fingers clutch at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, like he was the only thing keeping you standing.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered against your lips, pleading. “Tell me you don’t want this.”

You should say it. You should push him away, laugh it off, pretend like this was just another game, another moment of playful teasing between best friends who had spent years toeing the line.

But you didn’t.

Because you couldn’t.

Instead, your fingers crept up his neck, nails tracing the hard line of his jaw, tightening in his wet hair, pulling him closer, your body pressing against his beneath the water. You felt the way his breath stuttered, the way his fingers dug into your ribs, his thumb caressing your breasts, like he was barely hanging on.

Your lips brushed against his as you whispered, “I dare you.”

A sharp inhale. His hands tightened. "Don't," he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. "I swear, if you keep looking at me like that—"

"Like what?" you interrupted, faking innocence as your fingers trailed down his chest, nails scraping over his hard muscles.

His breath left him in a shaky exhale. "Like you want this."

Your lips curled. "Who says I don't?"

A low groan rumbled from his chest, his restraint hanging by a thread. His hands slid down slowly, gripping, teasing, like he was testing himself—testing you. “You don’t get it.”

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I do," you whispered, your mouth just barely on his, so close he could feel your words on his skin. "You're the one who doesn't."

His jaw ticked. "Don't push me," he warned, his voice a painful growl. 

You tilted your head, dragging your nose against his. "Why? Afraid you'll give in?"

"Afraid I won't be able to stop."

A wicked smile danced on your lips as you leaned in, your mouth grazing the corner of his. Not a kiss—just a taste. "You know what I think?” you murmured, your teeth just barely scraping against his lips, leaving the most devastating kiss there. “I think you’ve thought about this. A lot.”

“Tell me I’m wrong,” you taunted him, your voice nothing but a breath, a challenge, a plea. "Just tell me I'm wrong, and we'll stop, we'll forget any of this happened, we'll just—"

His patience snapped.

His hands slid down your waist, gripping your thighs before he hoisted you up, forcing your legs to wrap around him. A choked gasp escaped your lips as you felt all of him, thick and hard, pressing right against your soaked core. A groan tore from his throat, guttural and desperate, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs, bruising you. 

“Fuck,” he whimpered. “You keep grinding on me like that and I fucking swear–” His words cut off into a sharp inhale as you grinded against him again. 

You rolled your hips against him, dragging your slick heat over the hard ridge of his cock, and his entire body tensed.  

A sharp, wrecked groan tore from his throat, his grip turning bruising as he slammed your body harder against the cool tile. His mouth was on you in an instant—biting, licking, claiming—his teeth scraping your jaw, his tongue lapping at the spot he just marked, soothing it just to do it all over again. 

“Tell me to stop,” he rasped. 

You swallowed hard. The words were right there, on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say them.

Stop.

No, you wouldn’t. You didn’t want him to stop. You wanted him to keep going, to touch you right where you needed him the most, to make you his, to claim you, to possess you. You wanted to feel his lips on yours, on your entire body. You needed this, the release–you needed him. 

“Say. It.” His groan was raw, wrecked. His hands ghosted up your thighs, slow, teasing, so agonizingly close to where you needed them. “Tell me to fucking stop.”

You stayed silent. 

His lips curled into a dark smirk. “That’s what I fucking thought.”

His hands flexed, gripping your thighs tighter, dragging your hips flush against him, grinding against your core so hard and deep it made your breath catch.

“Fuck, you feel that?" he groaned, his voice rough dripping with need. "Feel how hard you make me? You did that, sweetheart. You."

His lips brushed your jaw, teasing, before his teeth sank into your skin—not enough to hurt, but enough to make you whimper. His tongue soothed the spot, only to bite again, harder this time.

"You don't think I've noticed? The way your eyes are on me when you think I'm not watching? The way your whole body reacts to me?"

His fingers dug into your hips, hard, making you gasp, dragging your body against him once more, letting you feel every single inch of how much he wanted you.

Fuck.

"You've been playing a dangerous game, baby," he growled. "Playing dumb, acting like all those little teases, all those flirty smiles, all those times you touched me without meaning to—like they didn't mean anything."

A dark chuckle rumbled from his chest.

"But we both know that's not true, don't we?" His grip became stronger by the minute, his fingers slithering lower, teasing the edge of your stomach, dancing along your skin with agonizing precision. He knew what he was fucking doing, he wanted to drive you insane, the same way you drove him to the brink of insanty.

"You know it's not true. Deep down, you always knew exactly what you've been doing to me."

And he was right.

Every glance, every touch, every smile, every almost—you’d been testing him, taunting him. Watching, waiting, wondering how far you could push before he snapped.

And now? He was breaking apart.

His fingers inched lower, making your entire body arch against him, desperate, aching, starving for more.

Please, please, please.

A gasp tore from your throat as his fingers finally found your aching clit, pressing down in slow, agonizing cirles.

Oh, fuck.

Your head fell back against the cool tile, your breath coming out in ragged pants. This was different. He was different. This wasn't the Wally you were used to—your best friend, the sweet, flirty, cocky, Wally who loved teasing you just as much as you teased him.

This was someone else, a completely different version of him you'd never seen before. Dangerous.

"I think you know how much I fucking want you," he groaned, his forehead pressed against yours, his eyes dark, desperate, completely feral with need. "And you've been pretending you don't feel it, too."

You swallowed hard, but no words would come out. What could you say? That he was wrong? That this was just another game?

It wasn't. Not anymore.

You'd crossed every line, and there was no going back.

Your entire body trembled as his fingers moved harder, faster, making your entire world narrow to the feeling of his fingers against your aching core.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, your breath coming in gasps, but you didn’t answer.

You couldn’t. Not when you were falling apart in his hands.

Not when you felt so good pressed against him.

So fucking good.

"And now, baby?" His tongue brushed over your lips, slowly. "Now you're gonna find out exactly what happens when you push me too fucking far."

[nicholasluvbot]

FLYING KISSㅤ𓈒ㅤ𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗈𝗈𝗇𝗁𝖺𝗄 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗈𝖻𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝖾𝗉𝗍 𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 18-𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋-𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝗈𝗒.

ㅤㅤ── 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝖾𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗌 𝖼𝗂𝗋𝖼𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗆𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗈𝗆𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾.

𝒇 ! readerㅤ𖥔ㅤ500ㅤㅤ><ㅤ`ㅤ𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗇𝗌ㅤ𓈒ㅤ──── cautions 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗃𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗒 ㅤㅤ🍀ㅤㅤ𝖠𝖱𝖢𝖧𝗂𝖵𝖤

woonhak always stretches an arm out on the back of your chair, absentmindedly playing with your hair or tracing circles on your shoulder while pretending not to care. if someone else tries to squeeze in between you, he automatically shifts his chair closer to yours—anything to be near you.

he swears he never gets jealous, but the moment another guy gets a little too close to you, his whole demeanor shifts. "oh, that guy?" he says, unimpressed. "he's like 5'7 on a good day." he tries to act indifferent, but he's noticeably more clingy for the rest of the day, standing closer than usual, his shoulder brushing against yours, making sure you laugh at all of his jokes instead.

if someone talks about asking you out in front of him, he lets out a short, sharp laugh before mumbling, "yeah, good luck with that." and when someone actually flirts with you in front of him, he plays it off with fake nonchalance—jaw tightening, but his voice light and teasing. "oh, so you're cheating on me now?" he tilts his head, wearing an exaggerated look of betrayal.

you shove at his arm playfully. "you are so unserious."

"dead serious," he quips, resting his chin on his hand as he watches you. "but hey, do what you want. just don't come crying to me when you realize no one treats you as well as i do."

he teases you relentlessly but goes completely still when you lean your head on his shoulder. he pretends not to care, staring ahead like it’s no big deal, but you can feel how stiff he gets at first. then, slowly, his body relaxes, and after a while, he even tilts his head to rest against yours.

in class, he flicks your forehead when he catches you zoning out or dozing off, playfully scolding you to pay attention—then immediately following it with a quiet, "you okay?" in a softer voice.

he "accidentally" wins a carnival game and tosses you the stuffed animal casually. "i don’t need it," he says, even though you both know he was trying hard to win. but later, when you’re not looking, he grins to himself, satisfied when he sees you still hugging it hours later.

he always finds an excuse to be at your house, lounging on your couch like it’s his second home. he acts like he's there for the snacks, but really, he just loves being around you, in your space.

he grumbles about how you always make him do things, like helping you carry your stuff or waiting for you after class, but the one time you don’t ask for his help, he frowns. "what, you didn’t need me?" and when you say you didn’t want to bother him, he scoffs, shoving his hands in his pockets. "idiot. it’s not a bother."

it’s so obvious—everyone sees it. he thinks he hides it well, but every so often, when you're laughing, focused, or just doing anything at all, he gets this soft look in his eyes. it only lasts a second before he snaps out of it, clearing his throat and teasing you about something random. but when jaehyun asks, "dude, do you like them or something?" woonhak just scoffs, looking anywhere but at you.

"who wouldn’t?"

‎ ‎     • 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 🗯 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 ───── 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 ˆᗜˆ

tags ( boynextdoor ) @coquettejunnie , @hanninova , @chaeneu , @aloe-7 , @en-dream , @rizzkisworld , @cosmicwintr , @mydearyeseo , @ladyaida , @fae-renjun , @slytherinshua , @jjennuine , @kstrucknet , @k-films , @sgz-net

[wendichester]

✮⋆˙ coffee, pie & a side of trouble,

summary. you finally have a handsome customer at the diner

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 399

notes. happy jackles day .ᐟ 🩷

Dean’s been to a lot of diners—greasy spoons with peeling vinyl booths and coffee strong enough to wake the dead. But this one? This one’s special.

And it has nothing to do with the menu.

“Can I get you something, sweetheart?”

Your voice is smooth, a little teasing, and when Dean glances up from the sticky menu, he nearly forgets how to speak.

Damn.

He knew walking into this place was a good idea.

You’re standing there in a worn little uniform, not exactly glamorous, but on you? It works. There’s a knowing glint in your eyes, like you’ve dealt with plenty of guys like him before—cocky, road-worn, up to no good.

Dean grins. “That depends. What’s good here?”

You huff a laugh, placing a hand on your hip. “Nothing, really. But the coffee’s hot, and the pie won’t kill you.”

“Damn, and here I was hoping for fine dining.” He taps a finger against the menu. “Tell you what—bring me some of that not-deadly pie and your best cup of coffee.”

Your lips twitch like you’re trying not to smile. “You got it, handsome.”

Dean watches as you walk away, taking his sweet time, because hey—he’s only human.

By the time you come back, balancing a plate of pie and a steaming mug, he’s already decided he likes this place way more than he should.

You set everything down in front of him, leaning slightly over the table. “That should keep you busy for a bit.”

Dean smirks, picking up his fork. “Depends. You sticking around, or am I supposed to enjoy this all by myself?”

You arch a brow. “Are you flirting for a discount?”

He grins around his first bite of pie. “Is it working?”

You shake your head, but there’s warmth in your eyes. “Not a chance.”

Dean chuckles, taking a sip of his coffee. “Alright, alright. Just figured I’d try my luck.”

You cross your arms, leaning against the booth. “You passin’ through, or should I expect you back for breakfast?”

Dean lifts a shoulder, his smirk softening just a little. “Depends. You on the morning shift?”

You pretend to think about it, tapping your fingers on the table. “Guess you’ll just have to come by and find out.”

He exhales a laugh, shaking his head. “You really know how to keep a guy on his toes.”

And damn it, he will be back.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @taurus0queenie33 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystems ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @funkenniffler ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @lieutenantchaos ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion ⋆ @lovewolfspirit ⋆ @kayleighwinchester ⋆ @s0urw00lf ⋆ @cursednevermore ⋆ @onelonelybitch ⋆ @americanvenom13 ⋆ @iluvdeanwinchester ⋆ @idk6505 ⋆ @devilslittlehelper ⋆ @cloverleaf20 ⋆ @giggles1026 ⋆ @idontwannabehere7 ⋆ @beakaleak32 ⋆ @ocelotlist51 ⋆ @lelapine ⋆ @pwin098 ⋆ @lacysretribution ⋆ @globetrotter28 ⋆ @i-love-gvf ⋆ @lemonswinchester ⋆ @4k1vrr ⋆ @bejeweledinterludes ( continues in the comments )

[enhaflixer]

HARD HOURS; reaction when you ask to sit on their face!

wc: 5.6K cw (MDNI 18+): face-sitting, explicit activity, begging, overstim-, you name it tbh A/N: HI GUYS BACK AGAIN! this was the post to this ask! pls keep comin at me w the requests i loveeeee them. TL: @ziiao @beariegyu @somuchdard @naurwayyyyy @annybah @ddolleri @ijustwannareadstuff20 @zzhengyu @seonhoon @izyyyyyyy @dreamy-carat

𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠

You don’t hesitate. You don’t overthink it. You just say it.

"Heeseung, I want to sit on your face."

The words roll off your tongue effortlessly, clear and sure, leaving no room for doubt.

Heeseung, who had been half-distracted, lazily scrolling through his phone, freezes mid-swipe. His body stills entirely, only his eyes shifting toward you, flickering with something dark and unreadable. Slowly, deliberately, he places his phone facedown on the nightstand. He lets a breath out through his nose, his jaw tensing for just a moment, like he's trying to process what you just said.

And then he smirks.

"Yeah?" His voice is silk-smooth, dripping with amusement, but beneath it, you can hear the shift in his breathing, the slight rasp, the way his fingers twitch against the sheets. "You wanna ride my face, baby?"

You nod, unwavering. "Right now."

Heeseung’s tongue swipes across his bottom lip, slow, measured, his dark gaze dragging over your body like he’s already picturing exactly how he’s going to have you. He lets out a quiet chuckle, low and knowing, stretching his arms behind his head like this is all just casual conversation to him.

"You’re not shy at all, huh?" His voice is teasing, but there’s something else beneath it. Something dangerous.

You tilt your chin up slightly. "Nope."

His smirk deepens.

"Good," he murmurs, and then his hands shoot forward, gripping your thighs, yanking you toward him so fast your breath stutters. You land against him with a sharp gasp, his chest burning hot through his thin shirt, his fingers kneading the flesh of your hips like he’s getting a feel for what’s his.

His lips brush against your jaw, warm and lazy. "Then take what you need, baby," he whispers, his breath fanning against your skin.

Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, heat coiling low in your stomach. You shift against him, moving to straddle his waist, but his hands tighten their grip on you.

"Nuh-uh," he murmurs, voice deep, knowing, controlling.

Heeseung flips you with zero effort, guiding you up, positioning you exactly where he wants. Your knees press into the mattress on either side of his head, your hands bracing against the headboard for balance. His fingertips dig into the curve of your ass, spreading you open, exposing you completely to his gaze.

His breath is hot, teasing, unbearably close.

"You were so confident a second ago," he taunts. "What happened, baby?"

You glare down at him. "I hate you."

Heeseung grins. "No, you don’t."

And then—he smacks your ass.

Hard.

A sharp gasp leaves your lips, your body jerking forward at the sting.

"Heeseung—"

"That’s my name, baby," he muses, voice mocking, low, thick with amusement and absolute fucking hunger. His other hand soothes over the spot he just slapped, rubbing slow, deliberate circles into the heated skin. "Now sit."

Your stomach tightens.

His grip on you tightens.

And then, he tugs you down onto his mouth.

Your entire body locks up, breath catching in your throat as his tongue flicks out, slow and devastating, pressing deep, licking a stripe right through your center.

"Hee—oh, fuck—"

His groan vibrates through you, his hands sliding up your thighs, holding you in place as he devours you. His tongue works in slow, precise strokes, teasing your clit, circling, pulling back just to hear you whine before diving back in, unrelenting.

The feeling is overwhelming.

You try to lift yourself up, **instinct kicking in, the pleasure too much too fast—**but Heeseung’s grip tightens, yanking you back down.

"Where do you think you’re going?" he murmurs against you, the vibrations shooting through your core. "Stay still, baby."

Your hands clench into the headboard, nails digging in.

You whimper, hips bucking involuntarily as he works you over with slow, teasing flicks of his tongue, his lips closing around your clit just to suck, long and deep, pulling sounds from you that you don’t even recognize.

Another sharp slap lands against your ass.

"Did I fucking stutter?" His voice is hoarse, wrecked, vibrating through you.

Your thighs shake around him, your entire body trembling with overstimulation as he groans against your core, completely lost in you, drunk off the taste, utterly obsessed with how you’re falling apart above him.

You try again to move—not away, just to adjust, to get a moment to breathe, but Heeseung won’t let you.

"You wanted this," he reminds you, squeezing your thighs, his fingers digging in just enough to leave marks. "So take it, baby."

You sob, hips rolling against his tongue, your body completely giving in, shaking, breaking under his mouth.

And Heeseung?

He’s not stopping.

Not even when you’re whimpering, wrecked, trembling so hard you can barely stay upright.

Not even when you’re falling apart so hard you can’t think, can’t speak, can only gasp, moan, beg.

His arms lock around your thighs, anchoring you in place, refusing to let you escape.

And when you finally come undone, completely shattered, gasping his name like a prayer, Heeseung moans into you, messy and wrecked, his own hips rutting into the mattress beneath you.

And still, he doesn’t let go.

Because he’s not done.

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠

You barely step through the door before you feel him watching you.

Jay’s leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, lips curled in a slow smirk. His gaze drags over you—your fitted blouse, your tight pencil skirt, the black stockings hugging every inch of your legs.

You feel his eyes burning into you, following the way your heels click against the hardwood, the way you sigh, rolling your shoulders, completely exhausted.

“Hi Honey,” he murmurs, voice low, deep, knowing. “Rough day?”

You let out a soft, tired sigh, dropping your bag by the door.

“The worst,” you mumble.

Jay hums softly, pushing off the counter, moving toward you with slow, deliberate steps.

“That so?” His hands find your waist, warm and grounding, pulling you close. “You should let me take care of you, then.”

Your stomach flips at the way he says it, his voice smooth as silk, laced with something darker.

Jay’s fingers trail down the curve of your hips, brushing the hem of your skirt.

“You wore this to work?” he asks, voice teasing, full of amusement—but there’s something else behind it, something hot and possessive.

You smirk, lifting a brow.

“Obviously.”

Jay lets out a low hum, his hands gripping your hips tighter, his body pressing against yours.

“You’re such a tease,” he murmurs, his lips grazing your jaw, moving lower, pressing soft, deliberate kisses against your neck.

“You walk around like this all day, looking like that, and you expect me to just sit here and do nothing?”

You laugh softly, but the sound catches in your throat when his fingers slip under the hem of your skirt, sliding up your thigh, teasing the lace edge of your stockings.

“Jay,” you breathe, your hands gripping his arms, nails digging into the fabric of his sleeves.

He groans, his breath hot against your skin.

“You look so fucking good,” he murmurs, his fingers hooking under your stockings, tugging slightly.

“Too good.”

And then—you hear the rip.

The sharp sound of tearing fabric fills the space between you, and your stomach flips, heat pooling low in your belly.

“Jay—”

“Shhh, baby,” he soothes, his voice thick, teasing.

“You don’t need these anymore.”

His fingers trail up your now-exposed skin, his touch slow, deliberate, torturous.

And then—he drops to his knees.

Your breath catches in your throat.

His hands run up the back of your thighs, gripping, kneading, spreading.

“You’re keeping the heels on,” he murmurs. “Keep looking pretty for me, my doll.”

Your body shudders at his words, anticipation thrumming through every nerve.

“Jay—”

He groans at the way you say his name, his grip tightening.

“Sit,” he commands, his voice rough, impatient, eager.

And you do.

His hands guide you down onto his mouth, his grip firm, demanding.

The first flick of his tongue is hot, precise, devastating.

A sharp gasp rips through you, your fingers tangling in his hair, gripping tight.

“Fuck—”

Jay moans against you, completely obsessed, completely gone.

“You taste so good, baby,” he breathes, his tongue pressing into you, licking slow and deep.

Your hips roll forward instinctively, chasing the pressure, the heat, the pleasure.

“That’s it, baby,” Jay groans, his voice dripping with praise, filthy and sweet all at once.

“Use me.”

Your thighs tremble, your breath coming in uneven gasps, your body already coiling tight.

“Jay, I—”

He hums against you, sucking hard, his tongue flicking, teasing, circling your clit, keeping you right on the edge.

And then—he grips your hips and pulls you down harder.

A loud, desperate moan falls from your lips, echoing through the room.

Jay growls against you, gripping tighter, keeping you still as he devours you, wrecks you, ruins you.

Your body locks up, heat crashing over you like a tidal wave.

“Come on, baby,” he murmurs against your skin. “Let go.”

And you do.

Your orgasm slams into you, wave after wave of overwhelming pleasure, your body trembling, shaking, completely spent.

But Jay—Jay doesn’t stop.

Even when you whimper, even when you try to lift yourself away, too sensitive, too wrecked—he holds you in place.

“One more, baby,” he breathes, his tongue flicking over your clit again, sucking slow and deep.

“Give me one more, yeah?”

You sob, your body shuddering, your legs trembling.

“Jay, please—”

“You can,” he whispers, his fingers slipping inside you, curling just right, hitting that spot that makes your vision blur.

“Be my good girl and give me another.”

And you do.

And then—one more.

And another.

Until you’re crying, shaking, completely spent, completely his.

Until Jay finally lets you go, finally pulls back, grinning, his lips slick with you, his eyes dark and wild.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, pressing a slow, filthy kiss to the inside of your thigh.

“You did so good for me, baby.”

Your breath catches, your body still trembling, and Jay just smirks, licking his lips.

“Still stressed?” he teases, his voice low and smug and impossibly sweet.

You glare at him weakly.

“You’re such an asshole,” you mumble, voice wrecked.

Jay laughs softly, pressing one more kiss to your thigh.

𝐒𝐢𝐦 𝐉𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐮𝐧

Jake had been a problem since the second he walked through the door.

At first? It was tolerable.

A lazy backhug, his sweaty chest pressing against you, lips dragging over your shoulder. Then? He got annoying.

Whining. Pouting. Dramatically stretching in front of you, rolling his shoulders, running a hand through his damp hair like he was in a goddamn sports commercial.

But now? Now, he was downright shameless.

Walking around shirtless, sweat still cooling on his skin, grey sweats slung low on his hips, doing the absolute most to get your attention.

And you? You weren’t falling for it.

Jake groaned dramatically, flopping onto the couch like you had personally wounded him. “Baby, can you just stop working for two fucking seconds?”

You didn’t even look up. “Jake, I have stuff to do.”

“You can do it later.”

“I don’t want to do it later.”

Jake huffed, his arms crossing as he slumped further into the couch. “You don’t even care that I came home all sweaty and hot for you?”

You sighed sharply. “Just ‘cause you have your tits out, Jake, doesn’t mean my work is magically done.”

Jake gasped. Like, actual, genuine offense.

His jaw dropped, his eyebrows knit together, and the pout on his face was so comically ridiculous you almost felt bad. Almost.

“You’re actually so mean,” he muttered, frowning deeper, dropping his head against the armrest like a sulking child. “Here I am, wanting to spend time with my girlfriend, and you—”

“You’re being clingy.”

Jake gasped again, louder this time. “You did not just—”

“If you’re so desperate,” you murmured, finally looking up, rolling your eyes. “Just let me sit on your face then.”

Silence.

Jake froze. His entire body tensed. His pupils blew wide, his jaw clenched, his fingers twitching against his thigh.Then? His lips curled into a grin. But not his usual boyish, easy grin—no, this one was dangerous.

“You better not be saying that just to mess with me, sweetheart,” he murmured, stepping closer, voice a low, slow rumble. “Because now?” His fingers curled under your chin, tilting your face up to his. “You don’t get a choice.”

Before you could react, he moved.

One second, you were seated. The next? Jake had you in his lap, one strong arm wrapped around your waist, the other bracing against the couch as he caged you in. His chest pressed against yours, still warm from his workout, and the scent of sweat and body wash lingered between you.

“You always talk big, baby,” he murmured, leaning in, his breath hot against your cheek.

“But can you back it up?”

Before you could even answer, his lips brushed your ear, lingering, teasing. His tongue flicked out, wet and warm, tracing the curve before he sucked lightly at your earlobe. A shiver ran down your spine, and Jake felt it.

“Sensitive there?” he hummed, a smirk tugging at his lips. His voice was deep, knowing, dripping in amusement. “Bet you’re already soaked, aren’t you?”

You huffed, shifting in his hold, but that only made things worse. His grip on your waist tightened, keeping you pressed flush against him. He licked your ear again, slower this time, soaking the skin, nipping at it before whispering, “You know, baby… you should be careful what you say.”

Jake licked his lips, tilting his head. “Now, you’re gonna have to prove you meant it.”

Before you could snap back, his hands gripped your thighs, flipping you onto the bed, spreading your legs before you could even blink.

“Jake—”

“You wanna sit on my face?” he growled, his voice thick with something dark, something teasing. “Then fucking do it.”

Your stomach flipped, breath catching in your throat.

Jake grinned up at you, fingers digging into your thighs. “You always talk big, baby,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin as he leaned in, lips brushing your inner thigh.

Then, without warning, he licked a long, slow stripe through your folds—hot, wet, devastating.

A wrecked gasp left your lips.

Jake moaned. Deep, filthy, almost possessive.

“That’s it, baby,” he breathed, his tongue flicking against your clit, slow and deliberate. “Make a fucking mess on me.”

And you did.

Jake’s mouth worked you like he was starving, licking, sucking, spitting on your cunt just to make it sloppier.

“You taste so fucking good,” he murmured, his lips dragging over your swollen clit, teasing, torturing. “I could do this all night.”

You whimpered, thighs trembling.

Jake grinned against you, his hands squeezing your ass, forcing you lower. “Come on, sweetheart,” he purrs. “Grind on my face.”

Your entire body shudders.

And then—you do.

You start slow, rolling your hips, dragging yourself over his tongue.

Jake groaned, his fingers bruising your skin.

“That’s it,” he breathed, his tongue flicking against your clit, sucking, teasing, licking into you like he was completely fucking gone.

“Ride it, baby. Use me.”

You moaned, head dropping back, your body moving without thinking.

Jake’s grip tightened, his tongue moving faster, sloppier, wetter.

And then—he fucking spits on you.

A wrecked cry left your lips.

Jake laughed darkly. “Filthy fucking girl,” he muttered, voice muffled against you. “You like that?”

You whimpered, hands pulling at his hair.

Jake moaned, tongue pressing against your swollen clit, teasing, flicking, working you up so damn fast.

“You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” he taunted, his voice thick with amusement.

“You gonna make a fucking mess on my face?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, pleasure coiling hot and tight.

Jake grinned against you, sensing how close you were.

“Come on, baby,” he murmured, his tongue flicking mercilessly. “Be a good girl and fucking cum for me.”

And you did.

Your whole body locked up, thighs shaking, your hands fisting the sheets as your orgasm slammed through you.

Jake moaned against you, licking you through it, completely fucking obsessed.

“Fuck yes,” he muttered, his tongue dragging through your wetness, lapping up every drop. “You taste so fucking good, baby.”

You twitched, body still trembling, still sensitive.

Jake grinned against you, pressing a messy, wet kiss to your inner thigh.

“You’re done sitting on my face,” he murmured, voice low, rough. “Now you’re gonna take my cock like a good girl.”

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧

Sunghoon had been an absolute menace all day.

Not in an obvious way. No, that would’ve been too easy.

Instead, he was being painfully cool, effortlessly composed, acting like you didn’t exist. He wasn’t sulking—he was worse.

He was being petty as fuck.

“Hey,” he had said flatly when he walked in, not even sparing you a glance.

Then he spent the whole evening avoiding you. Moving around you like you weren’t there. No teasing, no lazy backhugs, no hands sliding down your waist when he passed by.

You tried to get him to crack, pushing against his cold front, but he was stubborn.

“You okay?” you had asked.

“I’m fine,” he had answered, so clipped, so dry, so totally fucking lying.

And now, here you were. Sitting on the bed, watching him pull his shirt off, muscles flexing under the dim bedroom light.

Still ignoring you.

You sighed, finally pushing off the bed, stepping toward him. “You’re mad at me.”

“I’m not mad,” Sunghoon replied, reaching for a clean shirt.

You narrowed your eyes. “Liar.”

Sunghoon let out a sharp scoff, shaking his head. “What, you want me to be mad?”

“I want you to stop acting like you’re fine when you’re obviously not,” you said, tilting your head, arms crossing. “You’ve been weird all day.”

Sunghoon didn’t answer. Didn’t even look at you.

And that’s when it clicked.

You smirked. “This is about earlier, isn’t it?”

Sunghoon froze.

Oh. Oh. This was good.

“You’re mad,” you continued, stepping closer, voice turning teasing, “because I didn’t kiss you properly on your birthday.”

Sunghoon still refused to meet your eyes, crossing his arms. “That’s stupid.”

“You’re stupid,” you shot back.

Sunghoon’s jaw flexed.

“All this attitude,” you mused, stepping even closer, fingers skimming over his chest, watching his muscles tense under your touch.

“Over a little kiss?”

Sunghoon exhaled sharply, nostrils flaring, his hands twitching at his sides.

Oh, he was fighting himself. You could feel it.

“You know,” you murmured, dragging your fingers lower, letting your nails scratch lightly against his abs. “I could make it up to you.”

Finally, Sunghoon looked at you.

His gaze was dark, heavy-lidded, burning. “Oh?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, pressing closer, lips brushing his jaw.

Then? You took his hand.

And dragged it between your legs.

Sunghoon’s entire body locked up.

“I’ll even let you kiss me here,” you whispered, pressing his palm against your heat.

Sunghoon groaned. His head tilted forward, forehead resting against yours, his fingers flexing against you through your clothes.

“You’re playing with fire,” he murmured, voice rough, strained.

“You gonna do something about it?” you teased, breath hitching when he pressed his fingers harder, more deliberate.

Then, he moved.

Sunghoon’s hands found your hips, gripping them tight, spinning you around, pushing you backward until your knees hit the bed.

“You wanna run your mouth?” he murmured, pushing you back onto the mattress, crawling over you, his lips grazing your ear.

“Then sit on my fucking face and let me shut you up.”

Your stomach flipped.

Sunghoon’s grip tightened, his nose brushing against your neck, teeth grazing the skin.

“Go on,” he coaxed, voice dark and smooth, like he was daring you. “Since you’re so eager to let me make it up to you.”

You didn’t hesitate.

Sunghoon let you straddle him, settling himself against the pillows, his fingers digging into your thighs.

“Take these off,” he muttered, tugging at your shorts.

You obeyed.

And then? Sunghoon dragged you down onto his mouth.

You gasped. Sunghoon moaned.

The vibration shot straight through you. His tongue was hot, wet, and fucking precise, flicking against your clit, sucking, teasing, his hands tightening around your thighs, keeping you from running away.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, nails digging into his shoulders.

Sunghoon groaned against you, sucking harder, his grip dragging you further onto his face.

“That’s it,” he murmured, voice muffled against you. “Make a fucking mess on me.”

You whimpered, hips moving instinctively.

Sunghoon grinned against your pussy, tongue working even faster.

“Yeah?” he taunted, his hands guiding your movements, rolling your hips against his mouth. “You wanna ride it, baby?”

You choked on a gasp.

Sunghoon’s tongue flicked over your clit, relentless, devastating, completely fucking addicting.

“You taste so fucking good,” he muttered, his voice dripping with need.

You were so close, so close—

And then? Sunghoon stopped.

Your head snapped down. “What—”

Sunghoon licked his lips, smirking up at you. “That’s for earlier.”

You gaped. “Are you fucking serious?”

Sunghoon chuckled darkly, gripping your thighs, pressing an open-mouthed kiss against your inner thigh.

“You want more?” he murmured, voice slow, taunting.

“Yes,” you gasped.

“Then,” he breathed, his lips brushing against your soaked core, “beg.”

𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐨𝐨

You weren’t sure how he was going to react.

Sunoo could be so unpredictable—so effortlessly smug and teasing one moment, then adorably flustered the next.

So, naturally, you tested the waters.

“Hey,” you murmured, tilting your head, watching him stretch on the bed, scrolling through his phone.

Sunoo barely glanced up. “Hey, baby.”

You hesitated—just for a second—before going for it.

“You ever wanna try something different?”

That got his attention.

He arched a brow, locking his phone, turning toward you fully. “Oh? Like what?”

You shrugged, keeping your tone light, casual. “I dunno. Maybe… you wanna try letting me sit on your face?”

Silence.

Then—Sunoo blinked.

Once. Twice.

Then?

A slow, deliberate smirk spread across his lips.

He leaned back against the headboard, folding his arms behind his head, looking up at you like you were his new favorite game.

“You wanna sit on my face, baby?” he repeated, his voice dripping with amusement.

You blinked at his lack of hesitation. “Yeah?”

Sunoo hummed. “You asking or telling?”

You felt heat creep up your neck. “I mean…”

Sunoo grinned. “You’re cute when you try to act all shy.”

You huffed. “Forget it.”

“Oh, no, no,” he interrupted, sitting up fully, reaching for your wrist, pulling you closer. “Now I’m interested.”

His hands found your waist, dragging you onto his lap, his nose brushing against yours, his voice dropping.

“You want me to be underneath you?” he murmured, his fingers slipping beneath your shirt, featherlight against your skin. “You wanna grind on my mouth, baby?”

Your stomach flipped.

“Sunoo,” you muttered, suddenly feeling way too warm.

He grinned wider.

“Okay,” he breathed, his voice light, teasing, completely unbothered. “Try it.”

You blinked. “Wait—what? Just like that?”

Sunoo arched a brow. “You wanted me to say no?”

“No, but—”

“Baby,” he interrupted, tilting his head, watching you like you were being ridiculous. “You think I wouldn’t wanna eat you out?”

Your brain short-circuited.

Sunoo laughed.

“Come here,” he murmured, pulling you forward, guiding you until you were straddling his chest.

You swallowed hard, heat coiling in your stomach. “You sure?”

Sunoo looked up at you, gaze dark, lips parting slightly.

“You’re gonna ask me that after I just told you to sit?” he taunted, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts.

Then?

He grinned. “You’re adorable.”

And before you could say anything else, he flipped you over, settling between your legs, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss over your inner thigh.

“Let me start you off slow,” he murmured, his breath warm, his fingers already dragging your shorts down.

“You can sit on my face after I make you beg for it.”

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐰𝐨𝐧

One Week Without Sex.

It felt like a fucking eternity.

Jungwon wasn’t handling it well.

At first, he had laughed, cocky and self-assured, thinking you wouldn’t actually go through with it. Thinking you’d cave before he did.

But then?

You stopped sleeping in the same bed.

That was night one.

Night two was him calling out for you, only to be met with silence.

By night four, he was waiting up for you, sitting stiffly on the couch, hoping you’d at least look at him when you walked past.

By night seven, he had completely lost it.

And now?

Jungwon was on his fucking knees.

Begging.

The moment you stepped into the bedroom, he moved—instinctual, desperate, unthinking—his hands grabbing at your hips, his lips brushing against your stomach as he pressed his forehead against you.

“Baby,” he rasped, voice rough, his grip tight. “Please.”

You didn’t even acknowledge him.

Instead, you sighed, reaching for your nightshirt like he wasn’t kneeling at your feet, ready to worship you.

“No,” you said simply.

Jungwon let out a low, frustrated groan, his fingers digging into your skin, his grip possessive, unyielding. “You’ve made your point, I get it,” he muttered, voice hoarse, strained with frustration.

“You really think so?” you mused, tilting your head.

“Yes,” he said immediately, his hands sliding under your shirt, feeling your warmth, desperate for contact. “Loud and clear. I was an idiot. A selfish, ungrateful idiot. I didn’t appreciate you, and now I’m fucking miserable.”

“You’re miserable?” you mused, arching a brow.

Jungwon let out a rough, humorless laugh. “You have no fucking idea.”

Your fingers traced his jaw, nails dragging along his cheekbones as you tilted his chin up. His lips were parted, his pupils blown wide, his breath shaky.

“You really want me that bad, baby?”

Jungwon exhaled sharply. “Yes.”

“How bad?”

“I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

A slow, satisfied hum left your lips as you dragged your thumb over his lower lip, feeling the way his tongue darted out slightly, like he wanted to taste you.

“You want me that bad?”

Jungwon nodded frantically.

“Then make me squirt on your face, Jungwon,” you purred, tracing his lips, feeling the way his breath stuttered.

“And if you can’t?”

You leaned in, whispering against his lips, your voice dripping with challenge.

“No sex for two more weeks.”

Jungwon froze.

And then?

He moved.

His hands shot to your waist, dragging you onto the bed, his movements impatient, rough, completely frenzied.

“You think I can’t do it?” he muttered, voice low, dangerous, almost amused.

“You really think I won’t make you fucking cry?”

Your stomach flipped.

“You got a lot to prove, baby,” you teased, running a hand through his hair, tugging lightly.

Jungwon’s jaw clenched.

“I fucking hate you,” he breathed.

Then?

He lowered himself again.

And kissed every inch of you.

Slow. Worshiping.

His lips brushed over your knees, your thighs, your stomach, your hips—everywhere but where you needed him most.

“You smell so fucking good,” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot, his fingers tight on your thighs.

“Jungwon—”

“You’re not going anywhere,” he growled, his fingers tightening, dragging you down onto his mouth.

And fucking destroyed you.

His tongue flicked against you—slow, deliberate—before he sucked, deep and wet, his grip keeping you locked in place.

“Fuck—” you gasped, your thighs trembling against his head.

Jungwon moaned against you, sucking harder, flicking his tongue against your clit in devastating, unrelenting strokes.

“You taste so fucking good,” he murmured, voice thick with hunger.

His words only made the pleasure coil tighter in your stomach.

You tried to lift yourself slightly, but Jungwon wasn’t having it.

“Stay,” he growled, his fingers tightening, dragging you back down.

Your back arched as he slipped a finger inside you—then another—stretching you, curling them just right, his tongue flicking faster, more precise.

“Oh my god—”

“You can take more,” he murmured, voice low, teasing, completely in control.

His fingers curled again, pressing right against that spot—

You sobbed.

“That’s it, baby,” he breathed, his lips slick, his tongue relentless. “Come on, I want it—need it. Give it to me.”

And just like that—you shattered.

Your entire body seized up, thighs shaking, your hands yanking at his hair as pleasure crashed over you in violent, uncontrollable waves.

Jungwon moaned against you, drinking in every last drop, lapping up everything, sucking gently as aftershocks racked through your body.

“Too much—” you whimpered, trying to move, trying to pull away.

Jungwon only smirked against you, his fingers still lazily teasing your entrance.

“One more,” he rasped, his voice dark, commanding. “Come on, baby. One more for me.”

His tongue flicked one more time, his fingers curling—

And you sobbed.

When you finally slumped against the bed, panting, trembling, completely spent— Jungwon pulled back, his lips swollen, his mouth slick, his eyes dark and feral.

And then?

He smirked.

“You were saying?” he murmured, voice thick with satisfaction.

You blinked, still dazed.

“Shut up,” you muttered, grabbing his jaw, pulling him up to kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips.

Jungwon grinned against your mouth, his hands already sliding over your body again.

“Say it,” he whispered.

You groaned, rolling your eyes.

“Fine.”

His smirk widened.

“Sex ban is over, baby.”

Jungwon froze.

And then?

His eyes turned glassy.

“Thank you,” he whispered, almost reverently, but then—he kept going.

“Thank you, God,” he mumbled, kissing your jaw.

“Thank you, universe,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to your throat.

“Thank you, moon and stars and planets,” he sighed, sucking a mark onto your collarbone.

“Thank you, higher powers, divine forces, ancient magic—”

“Jungwon,” you snapped, glaring at him.

His smirk returned instantly.

“Sex ban is over, baby.”

Jungwon chuckled, pressing another slow, teasing kiss to your lips.

“Good,” he murmured, voice thick with pure satisfaction.

“Because I’m not fucking done with you yet.”

𝐍𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐤𝐢

“You sure you can handle it?”

Riki’s voice was so fucking cocky it made your stomach flip. He sat at the edge of the bed, legs spread wide, looking at you like you were a challenge he was ready to destroy. His black tee was rumpled from practice, his sweats sitting low on his hips, his usual lazy grin pulling at his lips as he leaned back on his palms.

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“I wouldn’t be asking if I wasn’t sure.”

His grin widened. “Then come here, baby.”

You climbed onto his lap first, your hands bracing against his shoulders, rolling your hips against him once just to tease. His hands immediately went to your waist, fingers pressing hard enough to leave marks, but when you tried to move higher—actually position yourself over his face—he stopped you.

“Not so fast,” he murmured, tilting his head. “You think you can just tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you just like that?”

You blinked, pulling back slightly. “Isn’t that the point?”

His grip tightened, forcing your thighs apart even wider as he dragged you closer, his breath ghosting against your skin. “No, sweetheart,” he mused, his lips brushing against your inner thigh. “The point is making you beg for it.”

Then?

He sank his teeth into you.

Your breath hitched, your fingers flying into his hair on instinct. “Riki—”

He just chuckled, lazy and smug, biting down again, harder, his tongue following after to soothe over the spot, his eyes dark as he glanced up at you.

“What, baby?” he murmured, pressing open-mouthed kisses up your thigh, his hands keeping you spread wide.“Feeling a little desperate now?”

You groaned, throwing your head back. “Riki, stop teasing—”

“Where’s the fun in that?” He grinned against your skin, his lips dragging higher, nipping at the sensitive flesh, making you jolt. “C’mon, you wanted to sit on my face, didn’t you?”

Your stomach clenched.

“Then do it,” he challenged, his voice low, taunting.

His hands slid down, gripping your ass, dragging you higher—and finally, finally, you settled over him, your knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his head.

“You good?” you murmured, even as your breath hitched when you felt his lips skim against your inner thigh again.

Riki just smirked, his hands tightening.

“Baby,” he murmured, voice low, deep, teasing. “You’re shaking.”

Before you could snap at him, his mouth was on you—hot, wet, and fucking relentless.

Your entire body arched, your hands flying to the headboard as his tongue flicked against your clit, swirling slow at first, then faster, teasing, sucking lightly before pulling back just to hear your whimper.

“Shit—”

Riki hummed against you, his grip unrelenting as he pulled you down harder against his mouth.

“You wanted this, yeah?” he murmured, his voice pure sin, thick with amusement as he licked you again, slow and filthy.

“You wanted to ride my face so bad—so do it.”

Your thighs clenched around his head, your body moving on its own, grinding down against his tongue as the pleasure coiled tight in your stomach.

“That’s it,” he groaned, his fingers digging into your hips, guiding your movements. “Keep going, baby. Use me.”

Your breath was ragged, your body trembling as his tongue flicked against your clit faster, his hands keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

It was too much. It was not enough. It was fucking everything.

And just when you were so close, when you could feel it building—

He pulled away.

Your eyes snapped open, frustration washing over you instantly. “Riki—”

“Mm?” He smirked, his lips shining, his tongue flicking out to lick them clean.

“You—” You could barely speak, your breath still uneven, your body aching. “You fucking asshole—”

He just grinned, tilting his head. “What? You said you wanted to sit on my face. You never said I had to let you cum.”

Your entire body burned with frustration and desire and the urge to slap him senseless.

“You’re the worst,” you growled.

Riki just chuckled, dark and teasing.

“Make me beg, then.”

[moonlight-joy]

A Surprise Delivery

MASTERLIST

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Summary: When Spencer forgets his lunch, you decide to bring it to him at the BAU—only to be met with an overly curious and excited team. The moment they realize you’re the person Spencer constantly talks about, they tease him relentlessly, much to his embarrassment. Despite the chaos, Spencer’s quiet affection and the team’s warmth make you realize just how much you belong—not just with him, but with all of them.

Pairing: Reader/Spencer Reid

Spencer was always in a rush in the mornings. His mind ran a thousand miles per hour, jumping from one thought to the next, always thinking ahead.

It was one of the things you adored about him.

Unfortunately, it also meant he often forgot things.

Like today—when he left for work without his lunch.

You noticed it the second you walked into the kitchen. His neatly packed lunch sat on the counter, completely untouched.

With a fond sigh, you grabbed it and decided to bring it to him yourself.

After all, you hadn’t had the chance to visit the BAU yet.

Spencer talked about his team all the time—telling you stories of their cases, their friendships, and their relentless teasing of him.

But you’d never actually met them in person.

Until now.

Walking into the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit was… intimidating.

Agents moved around with stacks of files, their voices filling the air with serious discussions. You saw desks cluttered with crime scene photos, case notes, and very, very intense people.

And then you spotted him.

Spencer was sitting at his desk, completely engrossed in a case file. His brow was furrowed, his fingers tapping absentmindedly on his knee, lips pursed in deep concentration.

Your heart swelled.

God, you loved him.

Taking a deep breath, you walked over, lunch in hand.

“Spencer?”

His head snapped up at the sound of your voice, and for a moment, he just stared.

“Y/N?” His eyes widened. “What are you doing here?”

You lifted the lunch bag with a small smile. “You forgot this.”

Spencer blinked. Then grinned. He stood so fast that his chair nearly toppled over.

“You didn’t have to bring it all the way here,” he said, voice full of affection.

“I wanted to,” you admitted shyly. “Didn’t want you skipping lunch.”

Before Spencer could respond, a voice cut through the air.

“Well, well, well… what do we have here?”

You turned just in time to see Derek Morgan smirking as he approached, followed by a very curious Penelope Garcia, JJ, and Emily Prentiss.

“Oh. My. God.” Garcia gasped, practically bouncing in excitement.

Her eyes widened as she took you in, then whipped around to face Spencer.

“Tell me this absolute ray of sunshine is the mysterious person you’ve been hiding from us.”

Spencer groaned. “I haven’t been hiding her.”

“Oh, you absolutely have,” Emily teased, crossing her arms. “And I think I speak for everyone when I say… excuse me?!”

You felt your face heat up as all eyes landed on you.

Spencer must have noticed, because he immediately moved closer, his hand brushing against yours in silent reassurance.

JJ smiled kindly. “It’s really nice to finally meet you. Spencer talks about you all the time.”

“JJ.” Spencer muttered, clearly embarrassed.

“What? It’s true!” JJ laughed. “I swear, every other conversation is ‘Y/N said this,’ ‘Y/N likes that.’”

You turned to Spencer, a grin playing at your lips. “Really?”

Spencer cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly. “I… I may have mentioned you. Once or twice.”

Morgan smirked. “More like a hundred times.”

Spencer glared at him.

You giggled, feeling your nerves slowly fade.

Morgan grinned. “So, tell me, how did this guy manage to score someone like you?”

Spencer opened his mouth to protest, but you beat him to it.

You turned to Morgan with a sweet, sincere smile and said, “He’s pretty easy to love.”

The team collectively swooned.

Garcia clutched her chest dramatically. “Okay, I officially love you. We’re keeping you.”

Emily smirked. “Spencer, you better hold on tight, because I think we just found our new favorite person.”

Spencer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, but you could see the small smile tugging at his lips.

JJ nudged you playfully. “You know, he usually avoids talking about relationships with us. But you? He never stops talking about you.”

You turned to Spencer, softening.

“You do?”

Spencer fidgeted, clearly flustered. “I— I mean, it’s— they’re exaggerating.”

“Oh, not at all,” Morgan said cheerfully. “In fact, the only thing we haven’t heard is how you met.”

Spencer groaned. “Oh, no. We are not doing this right now.”

Garcia gasped. “Wait. Was it a nerdy meet-cute? Did you bump into each other in a library? Did you both reach for the same book and your fingers brushed?”

Morgan grinned. “Did you impress her with your crazy genius memory?”

Emily smirked. “Or did she save him from tripping over his own feet?”

Spencer sighed heavily. “You’re all impossible.”

You laughed, loving the way Spencer’s team teased him but adored him all the same.

Spencer turned back to you, his voice softer now. “Thank you for bringing this.”

You smiled. “Anytime.”

Morgan smirked. “Alright, pretty boy, we’ll leave you two alone… for now.”

As the team walked away—clearly whispering and already planning ways to tease Spencer later—he sighed and turned back to you.

Spencer shook his head. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

You grinned. “Probably not.”

He huffed but then took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Still worth it.”

Your heart fluttered.

And in that moment, standing in the middle of the busy BAU bullpen, surrounded by Spencer’s friends, his family, you knew—

So was this.

Please support my work with like and comment

[mrsclrakey]

Heyyy guys tysm for the requests I really appreciate it so today’s story is kind of based on the song dress by Taylor swift I hope u guys like it!!!!!!!!

STORY NAME- Whispered Confessions

It had started innocently enough—late nights with George spent laughing over nothing, stolen moments in crowded rooms, the brush of his hand against yours that lingered just a little too long.

You had been friends for what felt like forever, though your connection always felt… different. Like there was something unspoken between you, humming beneath the surface, too fragile to bring into the light.

Tonight was no exception. The two of you were at a party, the kind of loud, buzzing gathering George usually thrived in. But while he worked the room with his effortless charm, his eyes kept finding yours.

You tried to focus on the conversation you were having, but every time your gaze met his across the room, your chest tightened. He looked unfairly good tonight—his shirt slightly undone, his hair just the right amount of messy.

When he finally approached you, his smile was easy, but his eyes were anything but.

“Need some air?” he asked, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You nodded, grateful for the excuse.

He led you outside, away from the noise and the crowd, to a quiet garden strung with fairy lights. The air was cool against your skin, and the faint sound of music drifted out from the open windows.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. George leaned against the railing, his fingers tracing the edge of his glass, while you stood a few steps away, your arms crossed.

“You looked like you needed saving,” he said, breaking the silence.

You smiled. “Maybe. Or maybe I just wanted to see you.”

He tilted his head, his grin faltering slightly. “You see me all the time.”

“Not like this.” The words escaped before you could stop them, hanging in the air between you.

George’s eyes darkened, his usual teasing demeanor slipping away. “What are you saying?”

You hesitated, your heart pounding. But you were tired of pretending, tired of hiding how you felt. “I think you know.”

He set his glass down and took a step closer, his gaze locked on yours. “Say it anyway.”

Your breath hitched, but you refused to look away. “I can’t stop thinking about you, George. The way you make me laugh, the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice… I’ve tried to ignore it, but I can’t.”

He was in front of you now, so close you could feel the heat radiating from him. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that?”

His hand reached up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “You’re all I think about. You have been for months.”

Your lips parted, but no words came out. You didn’t need them. The look in his eyes said everything.

And when he kissed you, it was like the world fell away. There was no party, no noise, no one else. Just you and George, tangled up in a moment that felt like it had been years in the making.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice barely a whisper.

“No one gets to see this side of me. Just you.”

And you realized, in that moment, that you didn’t want it any other way.

[grenadehearts]

authors note: ohhh yeaaa a drunken makeout sesh w shinsou?? while the neighborhood plays.. should i continue this drabble further?

You and Shinsou had staggered up the stairs to some random, crappy bedroom, the purple and blue hue of the LED lights casting over him, making him look even more enticing than he usually did—messy, tousled hair, smudged eyeliner, and that cocky toothy grin that sent you to your knees with his hand fisted in your hair. Your hands tugged at his loose flannel, one buried in his purple curls while he guided you back—one large hand pressing against the small of your back, while the other cradled your face, angling you just right. Crashing his lips against yours in a kiss that was all mess, and searing heat with a taste of urgency, the remnants of cheap alcohol lingering on his tongue.

There was nothing gentle nor kind about his actions, they weren't slow or sweet—nor, was their any tenderness in the way he held you, in the way he devoured your mouth like a man drowning trying to grasp any amount of air out of his lungs, even the way his grip tightened against your back sure to be embedded into your skin by sunrise,  as he navigated you up the creaky stairs of some shitty college house party The farther up you went, the needier you both became. The pounding bass from downstairs softened, the muffled lyrics of Sweater Weather fading into the walls, drowned out by the way your breath hitched every time his teeth grazed your bottom lip. its muffled barely coherent lyrics mixing with the tiny gasps of air you and Shinsou stole between fevered kisses, the shuffle of his Docs against the wooden stairs filling the gaps in sound.

When another drunk couple stumbled past—her heels in hand, mini dress riding up to expose a shitty thigh tattoo she probably got to rebel against her parents—giggling against a guy clumsily gripping her waist—Shinsou yanked you flush against his chest, pressing his back to the wall, to avoid any drunken collision.

 His scent hit you like a drug—cigarettes, faded cologne, along with something that was  distinctly him, but there wasn’t nearly enough time to fully take it in before he was on you again, lips crashing against yours, rough and impatient. The cold metal of his chain brushing against your exposed cleavage, sending a delicious chill up your spine. And when he got tired of just your lips, his mouth trailed lower, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down to your collarbone. His breath was hot, each exhale a tease against your skin as he sucked at the delicate flesh, leaving a pale bruise and a sleek trail of saliva.

But when your reaction wasn’t enough—when you weren’t trembling the way he wanted—he bit down, a sharp nip that had your thighs clenching on instinct. A breathy, involuntary whimper slipped past your lips. He heard it. Felt it. The bastard smirked against your neck, lips curving against the sensitive skin as his hand slithered between your thighs, fingers pressing right against that pulse point.

A shudder rolled through you as his breath ghosted over the shell of your ear, his voice low, rough, dripping with satisfaction.

"Atta girl," he murmured, fingers teasing against the heat between your legs. "Give me more of that."

p.s i've never written for shinsou so.. bare w me pls..

[lilangelbud]

It was a hot afternoon, the kind where the air felt heavy and stifling, clinging to your skin like a second layer. You were in your room, sprawled on the bed with a book in hand, trying to distract yourself from the oppressive heat. The ceiling fan whirred above, doing little more than pushing the warm air around.

Your dad’s voice broke through the silence, sharp and commanding. “Hey! Can you grab me a towel?” he called from the bathroom down the hall.

You sighed, setting the book aside. Why can’t he just get it himself? But you knew better than to argue. He always had a way of making even the simplest request sound like an order. You pushed yourself off the bed, making your way to the linen closet to grab a clean towel.

As you approached the bathroom door, you hesitated. What if he’s not decent? But you shook the thought away. He was your dad, after all. You knocked lightly. “Here’s the towel,” you said, your voice steady.

The door swung open before you could even finish the sentence. There he stood, completely unabashed, water dripping down his chest, his towel hanging loosely in his hand—more of an afterthought than a cover. “Thanks,” he said, taking the towel from you with a smirk.

You froze for a moment, your eyes instinctively flickering down before you yanked them back up to his face. He didn’t seem to care. If anything, he seemed amused. “You coming or going?” he asked, his tone teasing.

“Uh, going,” you stammered, stepping back quickly.

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Relax. It’s just skin.”

You turned on your heel, your face burning, and hurried back to your room. But the image of him standing there, so casually exposed, lingered in your mind.

---

A few days later, you were in the backyard, tending to the garden. The sun was high, beating down on your back as you knelt in the dirt, pulling weeds. You heard the screen door slam shut, and you glanced over your shoulder to see your dad walking out, a beer in hand.

He didn’t say anything at first, just leaned against the porch railing and watched you. You could feel his eyes on you, and it made your skin prickle. “Need any help?” he asked finally, his voice casual.

“I’m good,” you replied, not looking up.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him shift, and then—your heart skipped a beat—he unzipped his jeans and started pissing right there in the open, not even trying to hide it. You jerked your head up, shocked. “Dad!”

He glanced over at you, completely unfazed. “What? It’s just nature.”

You stared at him, your mouth hanging open. He finished up, zipped his pants, and took a swig of his beer. “You want to hold it for me next time?” he asked, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“No!” you snapped, your face burning again.

He laughed, deep and hearty. “Just kidding. Relax, kid.”

But you couldn’t relax. The way he looked at you, the way he spoke to you—it was like he was testing you, pushing boundaries you didn’t even know existed.

---

That night, you were lying in bed, trying to sleep, when you heard it. The muffled sounds of movement, of gasps and moans, coming from your parents’ room down the hall. You buried your face in your pillow, trying to block it out, but it was no use. The sounds grew louder, more urgent, and you could feel your body responding despite yourself.

The next morning, you avoided your dad’s eyes at breakfast, your cheeks flushed. He seemed completely at ease, as if nothing had happened. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew. He had to know.

---

A few days later, you were walking past him in the kitchen when he reached out and slapped your ass, the sound sharp and startling. You whipped around, glaring at him. “Daddy!”

He just grinned. “What? You’ve got a nice ass. Can’t a guy appreciate it?”

You stared at him, your heart pounding. “That’s not… that’s not okay.”

His grin faded, and for a moment, he looked almost serious. Then he shrugged. “You’re right. My bad.”

But the way he said it, the way he looked at you—it didn’t feel like an apology. It felt like a challenge.

---

One evening, you were in your room, your body trembling as you touched yourself. You had been trying to keep these feelings at bay, but they were too strong, too insistent. You closed your eyes, letting out a soft moan as you rubbed yourself, your fingers moving faster, harder. “Daddy, yes.”—

The door creaked open.

You froze, your heart stopping mid-beat. Your dad stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable. For a moment, neither of you moved, neither of you spoke. Then he raised an eyebrow. “Is this game actually turning you on?” he asked, his tone dripping with condescension.

You felt a rush of shame, but also something else—something hot and electric. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t think.

He stepped into the room, his eyes never leaving yours. “Well? Is it?”

[thatfatbitxch]

The Muggle Wife

Pairing: Severus snape x muggle reader

Summary: Snapes muggle wife comes to work with him for a day.

Word count: 3800

Warnings: None

Note: I am a nursing student so I couldn’t help but make y/n a nurse. I wrote this mostly for myself but decided to share. Let me know if you guys want a part two.

∴.·:*¨¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

The soft patter of rain against the window was the first thing Y/N noticed as she stirred awake, still nestled beneath the heavy warmth of the blankets. The second was the comforting weight of her husband beside her. Severus was rarely still in the mornings—he was always up before her, always already halfway through a book or preparing for the day ahead. But today, he remained in bed, his breath slow and steady, one arm draped loosely across his stomach.

Y/N turned onto her side, propping herself up slightly to look at him. He was still asleep, his dark hair slightly mussed against the pillow. The deep lines of his face, usually so tight with concentration or irritation, were softened in rest. It was a rare sight. She smiled to herself, taking the moment to admire him.

Outside, the grey sky stretched endlessly, the steady drizzle promising a slow, quiet day. Sundays were one of the few days they had together, uninterrupted. No work, no obligations—just the two of them. Y/N treasured mornings like this, where she could pretend that their lives were simple, that they weren’t so often pulled in different directions.

She reached out, running her fingers lightly over the back of his hand.

“Are you watching me sleep?” Severus’s voice was rough with sleep, his eyes still closed.

Y/N grinned. “Maybe.”

He let out a low sigh but didn’t move away. Instead, he turned his head slightly toward her, finally cracking open one dark eye. “That’s unsettling.”

“You’ll survive,” she teased, brushing her fingertips up his arm.

He hummed, letting his eyes fall shut again. “What time is it?”

Y/N glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “A little after eight.”

Severus exhaled heavily, his fingers flexing against the blanket. “Too early.”

She laughed softly. “For what? You’re usually up by now.”

“It’s Sunday,” he muttered. “Even I am entitled to a moment of peace.”

Y/N tilted her head, amused. “Who are you, and what have you done with my husband?”

He let out a low scoff, but she caught the faintest twitch of his lips.

She took the opportunity to shift closer, tucking herself against his side. His body was warm, and despite his usual complaints about being smothered, he didn’t push her away. Instead, he lifted an arm, allowing her to rest against him properly.

For a long moment, they simply lay there, listening to the rain.

It was Severus who eventually broke the silence. “Are you working today?”

Y/N sighed. “No, I have the next few days off.”

“Hmm.”

She smiled, recognizing that small sound for what it was—a quiet acknowledgment that he was pleased.

“Which means,” she continued lightly, tracing a slow circle on his chest, “we can actually spend the day together.”

Severus let out a noncommittal noise, but Y/N could tell he wasn’t against the idea.

They spent so much time apart during the week. Between his responsibilities at Hogwarts and her long shifts at the hospital, their days often blurred past one another. It made moments like this—lazy mornings wrapped in each other’s warmth—all the more precious.

She hesitated for a second, chewing her lip. She had been thinking about something for a while now, and if there was ever a moment to bring it up, it was now.

“Severus?” she asked, her voice quieter than before.

He opened his eyes again, glancing at her. “What is it?”

She bit the inside of her cheek before speaking. “Can I come with you to Hogwarts tomorrow?”

There it was—the immediate tension in his body, the subtle stiffening of his shoulders. His expression shifted, dark eyes sharpening with caution.

“No,” he said flatly.

Y/N sighed, but she had expected this. “Just hear me out.”

“There is nothing to hear,” he muttered, shifting to sit up slightly. “You do not need to be there.”

“I want to see where you work.”

“I work in a dungeon surrounded by idiotic children. There is nothing remotely appealing about it.”

She huffed, sitting up properly now. “Severus, I’m not asking to stay forever. I just want to visit. I want to see the castle, your classroom—I want to understand what your life is like when you’re not here.”

He ran a hand down his face, clearly agitated. “It is entirely unnecessary.”

She crossed her arms, tilting her head. “Is it really that bad? That I want to know more about your world?”

Severus let out a slow, measured breath, rubbing his temple. She could see the internal battle written across his face. He wasn’t just being difficult for the sake of it—he genuinely disliked the idea.

Y/N softened slightly. “Look… I know you like to keep your work and home life separate. I respect that. But I spend all this time telling you about my day-to-day life and I know almost nothing about yours, it’s a huge part of your life. I mean, I spend most of my days at the hospital, and you know everything about my job.”

Severus exhaled through his nose. “Yes, and I like hearing about your day, there’s not much about my job.”

Y/N laughed. “Oh, please, Apparently you got staircases that move, a giant squid in the lake, and ghosts floating around like it’s normal.”

Severus gave her a look. “That is normal.”

She smirked. “Exactly. And yet, I’ve never seen it.”.”

He glanced at her but said nothing.

She reached for his hand again. “Just one day. You don’t even have to introduce me to anyone. I’ll just sit quietly in the back of your class and watch.”

Severus let out a low groan. “That is worse.”

Y/N smiled. “Why? Are you afraid I’ll make you look soft?”

His scowl deepened. “No.”

“Then what’s the issue?”

“The issue,” he said through gritted teeth, “is that my students are insufferable, and the last thing I need is them seeing me with my wife.”

She blinked. “So… they don’t know you’re married?”

Severus hesitated before looking away, his expression unreadable.

“Oh my God,” she said, covering her mouth with a laugh. “You never told them?”

“There was no reason to,” he muttered.

She gaped at him. “Severus! That’s kind of a big thing to leave out!”

He glared at her. “It is none of their concern.”

“Oh, I’m definitely coming now,” she said, grinning. “I have to see their reactions.”

Severus let out a low sigh, rubbing his temple. “That is precisely why you should not come. It is hardly a place for—” He hesitated before finishing the sentence.

“For a Muggle?” she supplied, arching an eyebrow.

His expression darkened. “For anyone with an ounce of common sense,” he corrected. “Hogwarts is not a place for idle visits. It is a school, not a spectacle.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Severus. Please.”

He turned his head slightly to look at her, his dark eyes scanning her face. He saw the sincerity in her expression, the soft crease of her brow as she studied him, waiting for a response. She wasn’t asking just out of curiosity—she genuinely wanted to understand him better. And damn it, she knew he had a hard time saying no when she looked at him like that.

He exhaled sharply. “You will hate it.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Severus scowled, his mind already running through all the potential disasters that could unfold. His students were incompetent enough on their own—throwing Y/N into the mix would only invite chaos. And worse than that, it would invite questions. His students had no idea he was married. He preferred it that way. He had spent years crafting an image of himself as the cold, unapproachable Potions Master, and the presence of his Muggle wife would shatter that illusion in an instant.

She reached for his hand, lacing her fingers through his. “Please, Severus?”

He stared at her, his jaw tightening. He should say no. He should put an end to this ridiculous idea immediately.

“…Fine,” he muttered begrudgingly.

Y/N grinned, squeezing his hand. “I knew you’d say yes.”

He scowled. “You are infuriating.”

“And you love me for it.”

Severus didn’t respond, but the slight twitch of his lips gave him away.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

An hour later, after a quick breakfast and much grumbling from Severus about how she would regret this decision, they stood near the fireplace in their home, preparing to Floo to Hogwarts. Y/N smoothed down her scrubs, glancing down at them with a small frown. “Maybe I should’ve worn something different.”

Severus eyed her attire critically. “You look perfectly fine.”

“I don’t exactly scream ‘Professor’s wife,’ do I?”

“You certainly don’t scream anything remotely intimidating,” he deadpanned.

She smirked. “That’s your job, isn’t it?”

He let out a long-suffering sigh before grabbing a handful of Floo powder. “Just stay close to me and, for the love of Merlin, do not engage with the students more than necessary.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but nodded. “Got it. No making friends with your little minions.”

“They are not minions,” Severus growled. “They are reckless, imbecilic—”

“Children,” Y/N interrupted with a pointed look.

Severus sneered but didn’t argue. Instead, he tossed the Floo powder into the flames, watching as they roared emerald green. He stepped inside and held out his hand. “Come.”

Y/N took a deep breath before gripping his hand tightly. “Hogwarts, here we come.”

And with that, they disappeared into the flames.

There was a rushing sensation, the world blurring around her as they were pulled forward at an almost impossible speed. The swirling green light engulfed them, and before Y/N could even catch her breath, they landed in a grand, dimly lit room.

She stumbled slightly, but Severus’s grip on her arm kept her upright.

“Jeez next time, warn me about what that feels like” she muttered, brushing off imaginary soot from her coat.

Severus ignored her, instead glancing around to make sure they hadn’t landed in the middle of some unwanted company. The office they arrived in was old and regal, lined with countless bookshelves and moving portraits. An enormous wooden desk sat at the far end of the room, and a fire crackled warmly in the hearth.

Y/N looked around in awe. “Wow. And this is just the entrance?”

“This is my office,” Severus corrected. “We are in the dungeons.”

She blinked, glancing at the dark stone walls. “Your office is in the basement?”

Severus gave her a dry look. “Dungeons.”

“Right, dungeons,” she said, barely suppressing a smirk.

“Come.” He gestured for her to follow him toward a narrow doorway leading to a long corridor.

Y/N stepped out behind him, and the first thing she noticed was the cool, musty scent of the stone walls. The hallway stretched on, lit only by torches flickering along the sides. It was eerily quiet, save for the soft echo of their footsteps.

“This is… very ominous,” she observed.

Severus merely hummed in response, leading her through a series of winding hallways. As they walked, the silence of the dungeons slowly gave way to the distant sounds of the castle waking up—muffled voices, the occasional burst of laughter, the clatter of footsteps on stone.

Y/N’s eyes wandered everywhere. The moving paintings, the candlelit chandeliers, the impossibly tall ceilings—it was like stepping into another world.

Severus, of course, was entirely unfazed, walking with the same long, purposeful strides he always did.

She reached for his hand, lacing their fingers together as they walked. “Are you really that miserable working here?”

Severus glanced at her. “I never said I was miserable.”

She raised an eyebrow.

He sighed. “It is… tolerable.”

She smirked. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said about your job.”

“I am attempting to maintain my patience with you,” he muttered.

Y/N only laughed.

As they ascended a stone staircase, the sound of students became louder. The moment they stepped into the main hallways, the atmosphere shifted entirely.

The castle was alive.

Students in robes moved through the corridors, chatting and laughing, their voices echoing through the massive stone halls. Some carried books, others had cauldrons or parchment in their arms. It was a chaotic yet strangely organized scene, and Y/N found herself grinning as she took it all in.

However, as soon as students caught sight of Severus, the energy changed. Conversations hushed. Students moved aside instinctively, pressing themselves against the walls to avoid crossing his path. Their gazes flickered nervously between Severus and—

Her.

It was subtle at first—just a few curious glances. But as they walked, the stares became more blatant.

Y/N could practically hear the thoughts running through their heads.

Who is that?

Why is she with Snape?

Wait—Snape has a wife?!

A few students even whispered to each other behind their hands, their expressions ranging from confusion to outright shock.

Y/N bit back a laugh. Oh, this is going to be fun.

Severus, on the other hand, was clearly unamused. His jaw was tight, his expression unreadable. He didn’t acknowledge the students gawking at them, though Y/N could tell he was very aware of it.

She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. “Do they all think you’re a celibate vampire or something?”

Severus shot her a sharp look, his mouth pressing into a firm line.

She grinned. “That’s a yes.”

He inhaled slowly through his nose, as if summoning every ounce of patience he had. “Do not engage.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she said sweetly.

Severus led her through the halls, ignoring every wide-eyed stare and hushed whisper. It was clear that the sight of him with someone—let alone a Muggle—was an event in itself.

Y/N, however, found it thoroughly amusing.

Eventually, they reached the entrance to the Potions classroom. Severus paused before pushing the heavy wooden door open, casting her one last warning glance.

“Sit in the back,” he instructed. “Do not speak to the students. And under no circumstances are you to distract my class.”

Y/N placed a hand over her heart in mock sincerity. “I would never.”

Severus narrowed his eyes but said nothing, instead stepping into the classroom.

This was going to be interesting.

The moment Y/N settled into her seat at the back of the classroom, she felt the students’ stares practically burning into her.

It was obvious they were dying to know who she was.

Even as Severus swept into his usual lecture—his voice sharp and commanding—the students kept sneaking glances at her. Some whispered behind their hands, others tried to subtly turn in their seats.

Y/N smiled to herself.

Severus, of course, pretended not to notice. He moved about the room, giving instructions in his usual crisp, no-nonsense tone. “Your Amortentia samples are to be completed by the end of this period. Any foolishness will result in immediate expulsion from my classroom.”

A few students gulped.

Y/N had to resist laughing. Merlin, they’re all terrified of him.

As the students got to work, the room filled with the bubbling of cauldrons and the soft scribbling of notes. The scent of Amortentia—the powerful love potion—lingered in the air, a strange mix of everyone’s most beloved smells.

Y/N sat quietly at first, watching.

But it wasn’t long before one of the students—Hermione Granger, if she recalled the name correctly—turned in her seat and whispered, “Excuse me, miss, but… who are you?”

Immediately, all the students nearby went silent, their attention snapping toward her.

Y/N smiled, leaning forward slightly. “I’m Y/N. Severus’s wife.”

The effect was instant.

A ripple of shocked murmurs spread through the room. Several students exchanged wide-eyed glances, some looking downright baffled. A few even turned to gawk at Severus, who was currently occupied with examining a student’s potion.

“Wife?” Ron Weasley whispered, looking scandalized. “Snape’s married?”

“Since when?” someone else asked.

“Wait—how does that even work?”

Y/N chuckled, resting her chin in her hand. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you just look so… nice,” a Hufflepuff girl said hesitantly, as if she wasn’t sure whether she should be saying it out loud. “How do you—um—how do you get along with Professor Snape?”

Y/N grinned. “Sev is an absolute sweetheart once you get to know him.”

A collective wave of disbelief washed over the students.

“Sweetheart?” Seamus Finnigan repeated, looking as if he’d just heard the most absurd thing in the world.

Several students immediately turned to look at Severus, as if trying to reconcile this new information with the man they’d known for years.

Y/N laughed at their stunned faces. “I know it’s hard to believe, but I promise you, once you get past all the scowling and dramatic cloak billowing, he’s actually really kind.”

A few students stifled their laughter at her description.

At that moment, Harry Potter—who had been unusually quiet—spoke up. “How did you two meet?”

Y/N’s smile softened. “Ah. That’s a story.”

That got their attention.

The students leaned in, completely abandoning their potions in favor of hearing whatever ridiculous story had led to their feared Potions Master getting married.

Y/N rested her elbows on the table. “Well, it happened one night when I was walking home from my shift—”

“Shift?” Hermione asked.

“I’m a nurse,” Y/N explained.

That sparked more interest

“A Muggle nurse?” Dean Thomas asked.

Y/N nodded. “Yes. I work in a hospital.”

A few students whispered among themselves. Clearly, this was fascinating information.

Severus, who had been preoccupied with monitoring cauldrons, finally seemed to sense something was amiss. He turned sharply, his eyes narrowing when he saw his students sitting in rapt attention—not to him, but to his wife.

“What,” he asked slowly, his voice low and dangerous, “are you all doing?”

Silence fell over the room.

Then, almost simultaneously, every student turned back to their potions, stirring frantically as if they had been paying attention the whole time.

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

Severus narrowed his eyes, then shifted his sharp gaze to her.

Y/N only gave him an innocent smile.

With an exasperated sigh, Severus turned away, resuming his usual rounds through the classroom.

The moment he was far enough away, the students subtly turned back toward her.

“So?” one of them whispered eagerly.

Y/N smirked. “Where was I?”

“You were walking home,” Hermione reminded her.

“Right,” Y/N said. “So, I was walking home after my shift, and I found Severus lying in an alley.”

Gasps.

“An alley?” Ron whispered in horror.

Y/N nodded. “He looked like a homeless man.”

That was too much. A few students actually gasped again, while others smacked their hands over their mouths to stifle laughter.

“Wait—so, what did you do?” Dean asked, his eyes wide.

“I went to help him, of course! He was hurt. I assumed he was a regular person, and I’m a nurse—I couldn’t just leave him there.”

“So, you had no idea he was a wizard?”

“None at all,” Y/N confirmed. “He was just some grumpy, half-conscious man bleeding on the pavement.”

Seamus covered his mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

A Ravenclaw girl raised her hand slightly. “And… what happened next?”

Y/N smirked. “I patched him up, brought him home, and he tried to be all moody and mysterious about it. But I wasn’t having it. He was injured, so I made him stay.”

The students listened, completely enthralled.

“What did he say?”

“He mostly just glared at me.”

“Did he at least say thank you?”

Y/N snorted. “Of course not. But, eventually, I found out he wasn’t just some random man. He was—well, him. And, for some reason, he kept coming back.”

“And now you’re married,” a Hufflepuff boy said in amazement.

Y/N smiled. “Crazy how life works, huh?”

The students exchanged looks, still struggling to comprehend this new reality.

Before any of them could ask more, Severus’s voice cut through the air.

“Get back to work.”

The students instantly snapped to attention, scrambling to focus on their cauldrons.

Y/N bit her lip, glancing toward Severus. He was giving her a very pointed look, his dark eyes filled with something between exasperation and why did I let you come here?

She only winked.

Severus inhaled slowly through his nose, then turned away, resuming his lecture.

The moment he wasn’t looking, one of the students whispered, “You have to come to every class.”

Y/N grinned.

After the final bell rang, signaling the end of class, the students took their time packing up their things. Usually, they were eager to escape the dungeon and their intimidating Potions Master, but today, they lingered.

They weren’t ready to say goodbye to Y/N just yet.

“That was the best Potions lesson I’ve ever had,” Ron muttered to Harry as they gathered their books.

Harry nodded in agreement. “Who knew Snape’s wife would be so cool?”

Meanwhile, a group of students had gathered around Y/N’s desk, talking to her in hushed, excited voices.

“You have to come back,” Seamus insisted.

“Yes! Please?” a Ravenclaw girl pleaded.

Y/N laughed. “I don’t think Severus will allow it.”

“Why not?” Hermione asked. “It’s educational, isn’t it? Learning about Muggle medicine? I’m sure Professor Dumbledore would approve.”

Several students nodded eagerly.

Y/N smirked, glancing toward Severus, who was currently rubbing his temples as if trying to ward off a headache.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered.

“You’re being dramatic,” Y/N teased, standing from her seat. “It was fun, wasn’t it?”

Severus gave her an unimpressed look. “For whom?”

“The students loved her,” Dean interjected. “Honestly, sir, she should come to every lesson.”

Severus fixed him with a cold stare. “Would you all prefer detention?”

Silence.

Dean shrank back slightly. “…Noted.”

Severus exhaled, clearly exhausted, and turned to Y/N. “Come. We’re leaving.”

Y/N grinned, then turned back to the students, who still looked hopeful.

“Well, I suppose we’ll see,” she said.

A chorus of disappointed groans followed.

“Please?” a Hufflepuff girl begged. “Even just one more time?”

Y/N gave her a knowing look. “I doubt it will be just one more time.”

“Exactly,” Seamus said. “That’s why you might as well keep coming back!”

Y/N chuckled.

Severus, however, was at his limit. He grabbed her hand, tugging her toward the door. “Enough. We are leaving.”

Y/N let herself be led away, throwing a final wave to the students as they called after her:

“She’s coming back, right?”

“She has to!”

“She makes you bearable, sir!”

That last comment made Severus stop in his tracks.

The students froze.

Very slowly, Severus turned his head toward the direction of the voice.

Silence.

Then—

“GO.”

The students scattered, grabbing their things and rushing out of the dungeon in a chaotic blur.

Y/N couldn’t hold back her laughter any longer.

“You love them,” she teased, squeezing his hand.

“I loathe them,” Severus corrected, his voice dripping with irritation.

Y/N only smiled, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

He grumbled something under his breath, but Y/N didn’t miss the faint pink dusting his ears.

Oh yes.

She was definitely coming back.

[tommygotwrittenoff]

i need eddie to get another guy friend in season 8, and buck loses his shit about it (again), so he breaks up with t because he's convinced that the weird feeling he gets when he sees them together is because he is Really attracted to the new guy.

[s0dium]

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐄𝐗

A/n: Almost kinktober guys ;) Synopsis: How many rounds can JJK men go for? Characters: Gojo Satoru, Toji Fushiguro, Geto Suguru, Choso, Sukuna Ryomen Warnings: Doggy, mating press, multiple orgasms, sub space, overstimulation, dub-con, photo taking, cock warming, nipple sucking, finger sucking, breeding, unprotected sex, virgin!Choso, mentions of masturbation, pussy drunk men

☆ Gojo Satoru: 3-4

The longest three rounds of your life

You think he can stop just cumming in you once? Hell no. The best part about sex is when he can see his cum oozing out of you with each push.

Also loves overstimulating himself until he is a groaning mess.

Unfortunately for you, Gojo Satoru is NOT a one-minute man.

"Awe come on don't go zoning out on me now~"

Gojo's voice is teasing, a low, melodic coo that slides into your ears as you struggle to focus. His grin is wide, almost predatory, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement as he leans in closer. You’re hazy, breathless, your mind clouded with pleasure, barely able to register the words.

"S'cant... feel too...” You mumbled and thrashed against Gojo's hold, forcing him to pin your wrists together above your head while he pistoned into you with brute force. Sure it's only the second round for him but for you, he's brought you over the edge more than your poor poor body can handle.

Your body feels completely spent, trembling with overstimulation as your legs, sore from the constant tightening and untightening, hang limp in Gojo's grip. He’s folded you in half, his hands pressing your legs against your chest, locking you in place with ease. The room feels heavy, a warm haze clouding your thoughts as you realize you’ve been drooling, too lost in the overwhelming pleasure to even care.

“Feel fucking amazing Jesus Christ.” Gojo manages to groan out between pants followed by a string of curses. Every time he leaves the clutch of your cunny, his cock is coated in a thick shiny sheen of creaminess, and when he snaps his hips back in, it settles right at the base of him, painting your puffy pussy lips as well. Gojo effortlessly lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, sinking even deeper into you with each forceful thrust. The new angle, paired with the relentless pace of his hips snapping against yours, sends you spiraling dangerously close to the edge. Your grip on the sheets falters, hands slipping as tears streak down your flushed cheeks. Your mouth hangs open, drool pooling beneath you, completely mind-fucked and overwhelmed by the pleasure that consumes every inch of your body.

Your limbs have no strength left to resist—no, you don’t want to. Every nerve in your body is thrumming, begging for more as you let him take control. His every movement draws out a fresh wave of sensation, each thrust sending you spiraling closer to that next high. You can’t stop it—there’s no chance to. Your body is his to use, to pull pleasure from again and again, and all you can do is surrender to the bliss as it builds, crashing over you uncontrollably.

"Come for me baby," Gojo coos. "I'll cum in you and if it spills we can start all over again."

~

☆ Toji Fushiguro: 6

First three you are riding him and doing all the work.

Then when your legs give out thats even he fucks you silly

He is so big :( Sometimes he has to let you cock warm him for a bit so you can catch your breath

This is it you where going to die.

You were going to be fucked to death.

"Shhh, stop crying would you? Yer' taking it like a champ I promise."

Two big hands come up to your face to wipe the hot tears streaming down your face. Your body is trembling uncontrollably, every muscle quivering as waves of pleasure leave you numb and overwhelmed. It’s like your senses have short-circuited, leaving you shaking, barely able to register anything beyond the intense, lingering sensation pulsing through you.

Even though Toji is unmoving inside you, your pussy cannot stop spasming from the pleasure of his fat tip pressed up against your g-spot. Even if he wanted to pull out right now, Toji doubts that your cunt would give up the vice grip on his cock. Coincidentally that meant that he was keeping you plugged with 3 loads of warm sticky cum in your tight walls.

"Fuck still so tight baby, you want me to fuck you more don't you?" Toji's voice is a low, teasing coo as his focus shifts to your breasts, his tongue flicking over each hardened nipple, tracing slow, lazy circles that send shivers down your spine. One hand squeezes your breast, kneading the soft flesh, while the other glides over your sides and stomach, his touch warm and deliberate, drawing out every sensation. With all the strength you can muster, you wrap your legs around his waist pulling him closer to you so that you can feel his cock push impossibly farther into you, and he moans into your breast, biting your nipple softly. 

Then, without releasing your nipple from his mouth, he begins the slow roll of his hips into your sloppy cunt. Toji's hips move in a slow, deliberate rhythm, each roll pressing him deeper into you with a tantalizing, unhurried pace. His movements are controlled, almost teasing, as he grinds against you, making you feel every inch, every pulse of his dick as he draws out your pleasure with each smooth thrust.

"Just take it m'kay? You can handle it."

~

☆ Geto Suguru: 4

Geto is a real fiend

The breaks between sex consist of him drinking water and kissing the water into your mouth. After that it's right back to fucking.

Loves taking photos of his cum oozing out of you. Looks at it when he is bored.

“So pretty….”

Drool dripped from your chin onto the pillow below, mixing with the tears streaming from your eyes, which were rolled back in bliss. Your breath hitched the moment Geto's hand tightened in your hair, pulling your head back just enough to catch his gaze out of the corner of your eye. As your eyes lock, a dark, knowing smirk curves on his lips, sending a shiver down your spine. You were finally getting used to the dizzying, mind-numbing pressure of his tip crashing into your cervix—but the bad news? Your legs were completely numb, trembling and useless beneath you.

 “Did you hear what I said doll?”

 Whatever was left of your mind tried to reign back its focus on the man pistoning into you from behind, but as it turned out, there wasn’t much. The friction of his cock dragging against you was unbearable, even with the syrupy cum soaking the walls of your quivering pussy. All you could do was dizzily nod, earning a chuckle from Geto while he eyes the way your hips instinctively raise so his cock can sink even deeper into you from behind. If you could only know the heaven your cunt you're putting his mind in, he is sure you'd be the one smirking. Geto even has to bite harshly on his lip to stop himself from whimpering every time your sticky pussy spasms from pleasure.

The euphoria came in waves of electric current that pulsed through your sloppy pussy and the only thing keeping you grounded his loads of warm sticky cum dripping down your thigh.  

 “Come on speak to me baby, I've only come two times, we've barely even started.”

 The wet sounds of Geto's dick slipping in and out of you filled the room and your senses. His cock filled you so much better than your hands ever could, hitting that gummy spot inside your walls over and over again perfectly, and you wondered how you were ever satisfied with the way you masturbated before you met him.

 “I’m a lucky man arent I? To have such an obedient baby with such a pretty pussy.” His hand comes to your face to caress your cheek, and you nestle into his touch while his thumb wipes away your tears. Your too busy immersing in the warmth of his palm to notice the flash of light and the sound of a shutter above you. Even when you turn your head back in curiosity, all you see is Geto staring at the screen of his phone with a lazy grin spread on his face.

~

☆ Choso: 2

Give this man a break! He's a half century old curse who has never fucked before!

You should be glad that he didn't cum by just slipping his tip in, because oh god lord he is seeing colors.

Choso swore he wasn't a whimpering man. Nothing that good could ever make him stumble over his words like a schoolboy. But Jesus Christ, he was not expecting you.

“F-fuck, you’re tight,” Choso groans hoarsely. You felt good? Try god-like, Choso's mind was in euphoria right now. His hand or a fleshlight could never compare to the way your gummy walls sucked him in and hugged his cock.

"M'feel good Cho~" You whine, head thrown back against the plush pillow. The stretch was delicious. It had you squirming and writhing and you couldn't help but tighten as your body tried to push out the large foreign intrusion. You gasped when you felt his tip smush against your cervix, little bolts of electricity being sent through your stomach as he pressed against you.

Choso was slow at first, wanting to still admire the way your cunt swallows him up, the fat of his head has a hard time popping out with how greedy your cunny is being. He whines at how hot you are on the inside, but he’s quick to change to a faster pace.

Choso’s voice comes out in a deep, breathless groan, his grip tightening as he leans closer, his words heavy with need. "W-wanna do this all the time. Every day, baby," he rasps, his eyes half-lidded in pleasure, completely lost in the sensation. Each thrust seems to pull the words from his lips as if he can’t hold back, his body trembling with how good it feels. The thought of having you like this, over and over, only spurs him on, his pace quickening as he grinds against you, desperate to make this moment last forever.

Unable to handle the sensation, your hands grab his shoulder and grip them for dear life. Choso doesn’t let up his pace, in fact he increases it, pounding your poor little cunt with no remorse. His mind is foggy, everything just feels and looks so so good, he’s not even thinking when he shoves his fingers in your mouth, digits pressing down on your tongue and swirling around in the spit.

“Your gonna let me use you when ever I want right? Gotta lot of time to make up for, you gonna be a good girl and always make me feel good right?”

~

☆ Sukuna Ryomen: Lord have mercy

It depends.

Its either the longest no-break sex marathon of your life or 6 even seven rounds with small breaks in between.

Unfortunately, Sukuna is a sadist, it's a headcanon that he might prioritize his pleasure over yours. Combine that with his godly stamina and you have an insane combo.

Kneeling helplessly, both your wrists pinned behind you by just one of Sukuna’s powerful arms, you can only brace yourself as he thrusts into you from behind, each powerful movement sending shockwaves through your body as he effortlessly controls your every breath, your every tremble.

"C-cant do this!" you cry, your voice breaking as Sukuna's grip tightens around your wrists, holding you firmly in place. Your legs are sore from this kneeling position and the angle that his cock hits you is so euphoric it's almost painful from the sheer collision. Sukuna chuckles darkly, his pace relentless as he leans in closer, his hot breath ghosting over your neck.

"Oh, but you will," he growls, each word dripping with wicked amusement, his hips driving into you harder. "You don’t have a choice."

You can only wail in response, the sound escaping your lips uncontrollably as the overwhelming pleasure consumes you. Every thrust sends a wave of heat surging through your body, your mind going blank as Sukuna fills you completely, each movement pushing you closer to the edge. The pressure builds with each deep, forceful stroke, your body trembling beneath him, and all you can do is surrender to the intense, all-encompassing bliss that threatens to pull you under.

"Such a good girl, you're a natural submissive, aren't you? Or maybe you just loved being fucked like the slut you are."

How much time has passed? You can’t even tell anymore—everything blurs together in a haze of pleasure and heat. The rhythm of Sukuna’s relentless pistoning becomes the only thing grounding you, your mind foggy and lost as your body responds to him instinctively. Each second feels stretched out, an eternity of raw sensation as you teeter on the brink, utterly consumed by the moment.

"Gonna fuck you like this till I’ve had my fill, got that?" Sukuna’s voice is a low, dangerous growl in your ear, the words sending a shiver down your spine as he presses deeper.

[wendichester]

₊˚⊹౨ৎ ₊˚⊹ sweet talks & sales pitches,

summary. cj tries to convince you to join the stand

pairing. cj braxton x reader

wordcount. 507

notes. happy jackles day .ᐟ 🩷

“C’mon, just think about it.”

CJ’s voice is smooth, persuasive—the kind of tone that probably works wonders on people calling The Stand for advice. But you? You’re not buying it.

Not yet, anyway.

You shoot him a look, arms crossed as you lean against the brick wall outside the student center. “For the last time, I am not joining your little teen hotline.”

CJ grins, completely unfazed. “It’s not little, it’s a big deal. We help people.”

You arch a brow. “And I help people by not giving them terrible advice.”

He gasps, all mock offense, pressing a hand to his chest like you’ve wounded him. “I’ll have you know, I give excellent advice.”

“You once told a guy to deal with his breakup by watching Rocky and eating an entire pizza.”

“And? That’s fantastic advice.”

You snort, shaking your head, but before you can fire back, CJ moves—quick, smooth—throwing his arm around your shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His body is warm against yours, familiar but also… not.

Because lately, it’s been feeling different.

The way he sits too close, the way his eyes linger a little longer, the way his compliments have started sounding less like friendly banter and more like something else entirely.

Like this.

“You know, you’d be great at it,” he says, his voice softer now, his chin dipping slightly so he can meet your eyes.

You glance up at him, suspicious. “You say that to everyone, or am I just special?”

His smirk deepens. “Oh, you’re definitely special.”

You roll your eyes, but your stomach flips, betraying you.

“You’re smart, you’re a good listener, and you’ve got a voice that people would probably find super soothing.” He squeezes your shoulder, pulling you just a little closer. “And let’s not forget the most important part—you’re really cute, which will absolutely boost morale.”

Your breath catches for half a second before you manage an unimpressed look. “You’re seriously flirting with me just to get me to join?”

He grins, unrepentant. “Who says I need an excuse?”

Your heart does something ridiculous in your chest, but you school your expression, tilting your head like you’re considering it. “If I say yes, do I get to boss you around?”

CJ chuckles, low and warm, his fingers drumming absentmindedly against your shoulder. “You can try.”

You hum thoughtfully. “Tempting.”

His arm tightens around you for a brief second, and his voice drops just a little. “Say yes, sweetheart.”

The air between you shifts—lighthearted, teasing, but charged.

You could walk away. Call his bluff. Keep pretending you don’t notice the way he looks at you.

Or—

You exhale, shaking your head with a small, amused smile. “Fine.”

CJ blinks, like he wasn’t actually expecting to win. “Wait, seriously?”

You shrug. “You wore me down.”

His grin is brilliant, full of something undeniably pleased. “Damn right I did.”

And as he tugs you just a little closer, his fingers brushing your arm, you get the feeling this isn’t just about The Stand anymore.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @taurus0queenie33 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystems ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @funkenniffler ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @lieutenantchaos ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion ⋆ @lovewolfspirit ⋆ @kayleighwinchester ⋆ @s0urw00lf ⋆ @cursednevermore ⋆ @onelonelybitch ⋆ @americanvenom13 ⋆ @iluvdeanwinchester ⋆ @idk6505 ⋆ @devilslittlehelper ⋆ @cloverleaf20 ⋆ @giggles1026 ⋆ @idontwannabehere7 ⋆ @beakaleak32 ⋆ @ocelotlist51 ⋆ @lelapine ⋆ @pwin098 ⋆ @lacysretribution ⋆ @globetrotter28 ⋆ @i-love-gvf ⋆ @lemonswinchester ⋆ @4k1vrr ⋆ @bejeweledinterludes ( continues in the comments )

[kbwrites]

Heated Waters

synopsis: being married is hard, being married without seeing each other is even harder.

⚝ content: Hiromi Higuruma x F! Reader, nsfw, bathtub sex, fingering, Hiromi neglects his wife, but boy does he make up for it

⚝ wc: 1.9k

“Yeah we do it pretty much every day.”

Satoru said, taking a leisurely sip of his water. His pale face alight with mischief, a shit-eating grin across his lips. His three coworkers stared at him in (jealousy) disbelief.

Suguru was the first to break the silence, wanting to save face “Everyday is a bit much, isn’t it, Satoru?”

Satoru chuckled, his blue eyes glinting with amusement as he watched his friend squirm. "What about you guys? How often do our married friends get it in?" His gaze flickered to Nanami, who cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses, his eyes fixed on the steam rising from his coffee cup.

“Twice a week, I suppose…”

Satoru's smile widened, clearly entertained by the responses he was drawing out. He then turned his attention to the oldest among them, Hiromi Higuruma, who was carefully straightening his tie, a subtle attempt to avoid eye contact.

“What about you, Higuruma?”

“Your wife, (Y/N) is a little younger than you, right? C’mon Higuruma-San…She a total freak?” Satoru teased.

Hiromi's jaw tightened, a flicker of irritation crossing his features as his grip on his coffee cup tightened. He took a slow, measured breath, his voice strained but controlled when he finally spoke.

“Please don’t talk about my wife like that.”

But Satoru, ever the instigator, didn’t back down. “It’s just us guys riiggght? And I can’t lie Higuruma, you’re one lucky guy. (Y/N) is a catch.”

Nanami nodded in agreement, as did Suguru, though both seemed to sense the discomfort growing in Hiromi. The older man could only sigh, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the conversation.

It was true—you were everything he could have ever wanted in a partner. Beautiful, intelligent, kind-hearted—his perfect match. If heaven existed, Hiromi was certain you’d be the only one worthy of it.

But long nights in the office, and early mornings preparing for court would take a toll on any relationship. The truth was… Hiromi hadn’t touched you in over a month. By the time he came home—you were fast asleep, and weekends were spent running the mountain of errands you couldn’t get to during the week. You loved each other of course, but it was hard. A month without feeling the warmth of your husband's hands all over your skin was starting to weigh heavily on both of you.

“You don’t have to answer Higuruma-san..” Nanami chimed in, sensing his elder colleague’s discomfort.

“Over a month.” Hiromi exhaled, the truth slipping out before he could stop it.

The room fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in.

“WHAT?” Gojo audibly gasps. “Your wife looks like THAT and you haven’t f—”

Suguru swiftly cut him off with a well-placed elbow to the chest. “Satoru… leave Higuruma alone.” The long-haired male warns. “Still, that is surprising.”

“I know I know..” Higuruma pinches his bridge. He wanted nothing more than to have his wife under him… on top of him. But the endless stream of work kept him trapped in a cycle of exhaustion. “I’ve been so busy I can’t even remember the last time I actually spoke to her properly.”

Suguru offered an apologetic smile. “Sounds like you need a break.”

“Sounds like you need some puss—” Nanami quickly elbowed Satoru in the chest before he could finish his sentence.

Hiromi shook his head, letting out a dry chuckle as he ran a hand through his dark locks, clearly frustrated with himself. “I appreciate your concern, guys, but I don’t see how I can take a break right now. I have so much work to do, and I’m the only one who knows how to handle all of it.”

“Higuruma-San. Satoru will take care of the paperwork for you.” Nanami suggested with a deadpan expression.

“HUH?” Satoru blurted out, clearly caught off guard by the sudden assignment.

“Yeah,” Nanami continued, ignoring Satoru’s protest. “It’s not like he actually does any work around here anyway.”

Suguru smirked, nodding in agreement. “That’s true. You might as well make yourself useful, Satoru.”

Before Hiromi could protest, the trio moved in unison—Suguru grabbing Hiromi’s briefcase, Nanami steering him toward the door, and Satoru sighing dramatically as he resigned himself to the task.

“Are… are you boys sure about this? I don’t want to burden you–”

“Nonsense! Go home and take care of your wife!”

Hiromi placed his briefcase by the door, his tie feeling suddenly too tight around his neck. He loosened it with a sigh, running a hand through his hair as he glanced around. The familiar scent of home greeted him. It was comforting yet bittersweet, a reminder of all the moments he had missed. The living room was tidy, the soft hum of the dishwasher running in the kitchen. You had clearly been busy, taking care of the house as you always did, even when he wasn’t around.

“Honey?” Hiromi calls out to you, his voice echoing slightly in the stillness.

Frowning, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair before making his way down the hall. As he approached the bathroom, he noticed a faint light seeping out from under the door, accompanied by the sound of water gently lapping against the tub.

He hesitated for a moment, then slowly opened the door.

The sight that greeted him made his breath catch in his throat. There you were, reclining in the bathtub, your eyes closed, head resting on the edge as steam rose around you. The soft glow of candles illuminated the room, casting a warm, serene light over your features.

You looked so peaceful, so beautiful—that it almost hurt to look at you. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly as he took in the sight, but the guilt and longing only deepened. How long had it been since he’d taken the time to appreciate you like this? Since he’d been able to just… be with you?

You opened your eyes, gaze meeting your husband as he leaned against the door frame.

“Hiromi?” you murmured, your voice soft, almost questioning, as if unsure whether he was really there or just a figment of your imagination.

“Hey Honey…” his voice equally soft, as he took a tentative step closer. The warmth of the room seemed to wrap around him, melting away some of the day’s stress.

“You’re home early.” You muse, looking at him as you rested your arms on the tub. He doesn’t respond, just walks towards you with purposeful steps.

Hiromi stares down at you with half-lidded eyes.“The guys decided I need a break.” He paused, his breath hitching slightly as he continued, “Can I join you?” A playful smirk tugged at the corner of your lips.

“Only if you take off your clothes this time.”

A dry chuckle escaped his lips as he unbuttons his dress shirt, letting each article of clothing fall to the tile floor. As he finally sheds his boxers before settling behind you. You exhaled softly, the tension you’d been holding onto for weeks dissipating as you sank into your husband’s embrace.

Hiromi didn’t waste a moment, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your neck, placing lazy, lingering kisses along the curve where your shoulder met your throat. His breath was warm against your skin, his kisses slow and unhurried, as if savoring every second, every inch of you.

His hands weren’t idle either, tracing gentle patterns along your stomach, moving upwards to cup your breasts with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. He nipped lightly at your earlobe, his voice a husky murmur, “I’ve missed you… more than you know.”

“Missed you too ‘Romi..” Your voice trembling as the almost foreign heat began to pool in your core.

Deft fingers teased your nipples, rolling and pinching—eliciting a soft moan from your lips as your body arched into his touch. Your hand reached back, tangling in his dark locks, pulling him closer as his lips traveled down to your shoulder, his other hand snaking under the water to your aching cunt.

“ahhhh… s-shitt..” You cry out as Hiromi’s fingers slowly circle your swollen bud. His touch light, teasing.

“Thirty-two days… I’m so sorry m’love.” He mumbles into your shoulder as he slips a slender digit into your entrance. Your walls flutter immediately around the intrusion, as he gently pumped into you.

He adds another finger, curling up to the spot he had neglected all those weeks. He extended his thumb to rub your clit. You arch your back against him, feeling his cock twitch against your ass.

“Hiro…” you moan, reaching behind for him, but he bites down lightly on your shoulder.

“Not yet, pretty girl, want you t’cum first okay?”

He whispers as he feels your gummy walls clench around him.

He speeds up his ministrations, digits stuffing your cunt as your pussy throbs and squelches. Your whimpers echo around the tiled walls, water lapping around your bodies.

You feel the pressure building as each thrust of his long fingers brush against your g-spot.

“g-gonna cum!”

“Cum f’me sweetheart please—god… need it so bad.” Hiromi mumbles as he pumps even faster.

“a-ahh!” you cry as you reach your high, walls clenching as you cum on your husband’s hand. He removes his fingers from you, moving to gently circle your clit as you come down from your orgasm.

You both stay there for a moment, your heavy breathing the only sound occupying the space, mingling with the gentle slosh of water against the porcelain tub. Hiromi’s arms wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you closer.

Slowly, he lifted you, the warm water swirling around you both as he maneuvered you to face him, settling you on his lap. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your knees pressing against the cool sides of the tub.

You straddled Hiromi, your bodies now fully aligned, chest to chest. Your husband's dark, half-lidded eyes bore into yours, his expression a mixture of raw need and unspoken tenderness. He let his hands rest on your waist for a moment, thumbs tracing gentle circles against your damp skin as he took in the sight of you.

“I don’t know how I’ve stayed away from you for so long…” his voice breaking slightly as if the admission pained him.

Your breath hitched as you shifted slightly in his lap, feeling the tension between you intensify. Hiromi’s hands slid up your sides, his touch deliberate and slow, leaving a trail of heat in their wake as his lips finally found yours. The kiss was deep, full of hunger that had been simmering between you both for far too long.

His grip on your waist tightened as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a dance that left you dizzy with need.

Breaking the kiss, Hiromi leaned his forehead against yours, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

“I won’t make that mistake again.”

Without a word, he rose from the tub, lifting you effortlessly into his arms. Water cascaded down your bodies, pooling at your feet as he carried you toward the bedroom, his lips trailing wet kisses down the side of your neck.

He laid you gently onto the bed, your back sinking into the soft silken sheets, but Hiromi didn’t waste any time. His gaze darkening as he climbed over you, his body hovering just above yours, his eyes drinking you in like a man starved.

“I’m going to make up for every second I’ve missed.”

[mommynott]

Thin Ice

Theodore Nott x Reader

Summary: Your friends drag you to a hockey game, but halfway through you lock eyes with Theo. You can’t help but feel a strong pull toward him. Deciding to shoot your shot with the player.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, SMUT, Chars 18+, Hockey AU, flirting, tons of tension, explicit language, hockey!theo, dom!theo

A/N: Starting this series for my babe @amiableness I hope you enjoy it because this is just the start! Also BIG shoutout to my girl @westcanaan82 for the hockey!theo render. Definitely go Check out her page because she makes me DROOOOL

The arena was packed, and the noise was overwhelming as you sat in your seat, begrudgingly dragged there by your friends. You were scrolling through your phone, totally uninterested in the game unfolding before you.

But then… it seemed out of nowhere. A tall and muscular figure on the ice caught your attention. Fuck he’s hot. It was player number 13, Theo, whose piercing eyes were fixed on you through his helmet.

You felt a smirk growing on your lips before he nodded his head up at you and skated along the ice. Shuffling a puck with his hockey stick with ease. The game going on. Fuck maybe this game isn’t too boring. You held your phone in your hand but your gaze settled on him on the ice. Suddenly gaining an interest in this sport.

After he shot a puck into the goal he pumped his fist in the air but you swore he looked over at you. Throwing you a flirty wink. And trust me, he fucking did. At this point, Theodore was trying to show off for you. Hoping he would get your attention. Craving your attention.

The game ended, and his team had won the match. But after all the eyefucking you two did you wanted to stay back in hopes to see that same player. “I’ll catch up with you guys later!” Your friends gave you a knowing look while they walked out. You slowly moved around the now quiet arena.

A few minutes later, you started to feel defeated, thinking he must’ve left but that’s when you heard a low and deep Italian accent. “I noticed you in the crowd…Seemed to be pretty glued to that phone of yours.”

Bright cherry red painted across your cheeks as you turned around. Quickly tucking your phone away in your purse, you gave the hockey player a small sheepish smile. “Uh…Yeah, sorry…It’s just not really my thing I guess.”

But when your gaze settled upon the player, he wasn’t in the same gear from on the ice. Oh no. he was now in a tight under-armor top, showing off his muscular and toned torso along with a pair of black sweatpants. Freshly out of the shower, his brown locks clung to his forehead. The smell of his body wash was rich and intoxicating as it wafted all around you. Fuck me.

“Not your thing, huh? What is your thing then?”

Theo asked, his taunting tone hinting with flirtatiousness. Feeling the way your heart skipped from his words. His deep voice. Fucking hell. You hesitated for a moment, your fingers anxiously playing with the rings you wore. “I don’t know…Reading…Movies.”

Replying to the Italian, he ran a hand through his wavy hair, slicking it back and giving you a charming smile. “A reader. Interesting….” Theodore said in the same teasing tone before sticking out his hand and you matched him, giving your own and shaking it. The second your hands met, a spark pulsated through your body.

“Nott. Theodore Nott. But you can call me Theo, Cara.”

The charming accent rolled off his tongue smoothly as you both exchanged names. You crossed your arms over your chest, shifting your weight to one leg. Bringing your confidence out. Something you always had. “Anyways…What’s interesting about me reading?” You asked, giving him a bratty little grin.

Theo cocked an eyebrow, scoffing under his breath as he took a step before you. Eyeing you up and down fully. “Ah, I’m not sure. Just interesting…What do you like to read?” He questioned as he casually leaned closer toward you.

You tried to focus but his voice, his words were so smooth it sent little shivers down your spine. "Umm… mostly romance— Stuff like that." You mentally chastised yourself for sounding so fucking cliche. He seemed very interested in you…Maybe even so much so that you could get some hockey player action.

Theo gave you a lazy smile and your heart fluttered, feeling the tension building between you both. "Romance, huh? That’s fitting." You raised an eyebrow, confused. What the fuck was he on about? “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, leaning even closer towards you. “You look like the romantic type….Soft…sweet— Y’know?.” Your cheeks burned again. Was he flirting with you? This couldn’t possibly be real. This was something out of the novels you’d read.

“Oh— Thanks I guess?” A sea of giggles freed from your lush lips. The same ones Theo’s eyes were burning into now. He stalked toward you as you walked back until you were pinned against the white brick wall of the ice rink.

He carefully took a strand of your hair, wrapping it around his pointer finger while his tongue poked the inside of his cheek. “Can I get the pretty girl's number, hm?” He asked, remaining not only charming but… cocky. Drawing you to him even more.

It seemed that your confidence exuded his own to creep out. But fuck did you like it. A confident man like this? Damn. “Huh…I’m not sure. Can you?” Teasing him right back you subtly bit your lower lip to fight back the giggles that wanted to escape from within.

“Fuckin’ tease. Isn’t that right?”

Theodore now pinned both of his hands above your head, practically towering over your tiny frame. “Perhaps just a little bit…” Breathing out your words, your gaze danced along with his ocean eyes. Feeling your heart thump hard against your chest.

“I like a tease…A challenge…” His tone now held something of mischief, giving him a different vibe. And fuck, your whole body was fucking feeling it. “Yeah?” You asked, bringing out more of your sultry tone, keeping your lips slightly parted as you glanced down to his own.

That was it. Theo was going to come in hot. Make his move. Smash his lips to yours. But just as he was millimeters away from ravishing you a loud shout was heard. “—Nott! Back in the locker room!” His fucking coach. What a cock block. Theo rolled his eyes and cursed in Italian under his breath.

“We aren’t finished here…” He replied to you lowly, throwing up his pointer finger to his coach. He reached into his pocket. Pulling out a pen and taking your arm. Feeling the tickle of his scribbling, He wrote something on it as you sat there dumbfounded.

Once he was done, you scanned over your forearm. In sloppy handwriting was written his number followed by “Text me, Tesoro ;)” giggling at his little winky face as you nodded your head.

With that, he walked off with his coach to the locker room. That night you got home thinking of everything and anything that could have happened if his damn trainer didn’t interrupt you two. That’s when you decided to send him a flirty yet risky text…

Ahhhh the start of hockey!theo 🏒🥅⛸️

Really hope y’all enjoyed im too excited to continue on with this au! ATP I have so many and STILL have some In the back of my mind help lol

As always asks and requests are open my sweet peas 💋

Divider pinned in my masterlist🌙

[yueebby]

5:13pm — gojo satoru

contents. highschool!gojo, fluff, he’s so lovesick and everyone is just plain sick of it, obsessive behavior kinda, oblivious!reader

notes. a small drabble as i get back to writing! this is cute n all, but if a guy acted like this irl i would probably file a restraining order ngl. here's to the return of my lovesick!gojo series!!! *not proofread eek

“look at waka inoue's latest issue–!” satoru flips open his phone to display the raunchy image of the gravure idol in nothing but a tiny bikini, giving the effect that her breasts were basically spilling out of the fabric. he and the other second-years had just wrapped up a mission and, at satoru's relentless insistence, ended up celebrating at a nearby dessert shop. with a smug grin and eyes shut in self-satisfaction, the white haired boy remained oblivious to the looks of pure disgust his two friends were shooting his way.

“and you wonder why you’re less popular with girls.” suguru coughs under his breath.

satoru shoots him a glare. “what’s that supposed to mean? i’m plenty popular with the ladies thanks to this money maker,” satoru takes off his sunglasses, striking a pose for his friends.

they grimace.

“girls don’t want a guy whose wallpaper is a gravure model,” shoko deadpans. “especially not [name].”

that gets satoru's attention. he immediately perks up from his spot on the cafe booth.

“seriously?”

“seriously.” his two friends respond in unison. 

suguru snickers behind his hand, and satoru swiftly kicks his feet under the table. the resulting loud thud earns them a chorus of glares from the other patrons, but satoru barely notices.

then, like music, your familiar scolding reaches his ears

“honestly, satoru, i’m not here to supervise you and you’re already making a scene–”

his lips are already curling into a grin, ready to greet you with some teasing remark, but then– he actually sees you.

and he thinks he's stopped breathing.

“are you trying to kill me?!” satoru practically chokes, cerulean eyes blown wide as they rake over you, taking in every detail. his jaw slackens, and he stares, openly and painfully shamelessly.

under his intense, and almost hungry gaze, you shift awkwardly, suddenly all too aware of the frilly dress hugging your fram. you tug your cardigan around yourself a little tighter. "...no?"

“then why are you wearing that?" his voice is sharp, almost accusing. "why do you look like that?"

you're not sure you get what he means. his behavior is strange– stranger than usual. but satoru isn't looking at you anymore. he's looking around you, surveying the dessert shop like he's assessing a battlefield.

was something wrong? was it ugly? you lower your gaze, fingers nervously smoothing over the lace of your dress. the style was trendy... you're nearly certain.

“cute, right? i picked it out myself.” shoko says, smug and satisfied as she pulls you down into the booth beside her.

satoru clicks his tongue. "a little too cute," he mutters darkly, arms crossing as his fingers dig into his sleeves. his jaw tightens, knee bouncing underneath the table. never mind his racing heart!

he glares at the rest of the shop as if daring anyone to look at you for a second too long.

"i don't want all these normies seeing you like this."

“you freak.”

suguru, ever the angel changes the subject, steps in before satoru can dig himself an even deeper hole. “i think you look great [name], but you didn’t have to go out of your way to dress up right after your mission.”

“i wanted to dress up! it’s fun to wear something other than the uniform—“

“cursed technique reversal: red..” gojo murmurs under his breath, his eyes flickering across the room.

shoko groans, suguru sighs, and you—still blissfully unaware—blink in confusion.