#i messed around with the lighting on this

[amberinn]

Jesus, did everyone in the tags forget the phrase

"I'm just a boy 🎀" exists

"I'm just a girl", "girl math", "girl dinner", "divine feminine energy", "bimbocore", "clean girl", "girl's girl", "girlfriend brain" SHUT UPPP!!! SHUTT THE FUCKKKK UPPPPPP !!!!

[bunnis-monsters]

Becoming the Queen

Bee hybrids x Fem!Reader

warning: oviposition, orgy, breeding, oral

WK: 5k

A/N: I hope this is alright for a Valentine’s Day special… this is a commission, hehe. The lovely members on kofi got to see this 2 weeks early ><

It was early, the grass you trudged through to get to work still wet with the morning dew. You never truly enjoyed waking up before the sun rose, but you loved what you did and could never give it up.

You were a florist, owning the only flower shop in the county. People from all over would come to buy a bouquet, and you were up to your head in flower arrangements by the late afternoon.

Some customers were kind, tipping you well and making sure their flowers were well taken care of. Others got on your very last nerve, daring to say your flowers seemed old or wilted.

It took everything in you not to leap over the counters. You could take people insulting you, but no one could insinuate that your flowers weren’t perfect. You grew them yourself, preening and watering them to perfection.

As you neared your flower shop, you noticed there were more customers than usual waiting outside. Usually most of your sales happened after 10 am, not so early in the day.

But as you took out your keys and looked up, you realized that not all of them were there for flowers.

One of your windows was broken, shards of glass covering the floor and a bit of blood staining the windowsill. Something has smashed through the glass!

And from taking one look into your shop, you realized that they hadn’t just broken your window.

Bouquets lay strewn across the cool tiles, petals blowing in the wind as you opened the door. Someone or something had been in your shop and had ruined your carefully arranged bouquets.

A shard of one of your potted plants crunched under your foot as you took in all the damage that had been done. It would set you back several weeks.

“Damn it…”

Although it frustrated you to no end, you brushed off your skirt and set off to the back, grabbing a broom and getting to work.

After getting the mess up and opening up the shop, you tried your best not to think about what destroyed your inventory. You focused on your work instead. It was always easy to lose yourself in a good book while waiting on your next customer, but today your mind kept wandering back to potential culprits.

There were a group of teenagers that vandalized a restaurant a block away last week. At the local boba place, someone had been stealing the boba and straws. It wasn’t unthinkable that the other incidents may be related to what happened earlier that morning.

You closed the shop for the night, sighing as you zipped up your hoodie. It was way too cold, you’d have to bring your coat tomorrow if you planned on being out this late.

It couldn’t be helped, you had to stay after closing to contact clients and refer them to other florists that could get their arrangements done now that the ones you prepared were ruined.

Thankfully, most of your clients were kind enough to overlook it, but you received a few earfuls that you couldn’t complain about. At least they weren’t leaving a bad review…

The night air made you shiver. You rubbed your arms and continued on home, dreading tomorrow. There was so much work you’d have to redo, and money you would lose out on.

‘I hope there’s going to be enough money left over for me to pay my bills this month…’

You were stirred from your thoughts when you felt a chill go down your spine. For a moment you just assumed it was the frigid temperatures making you feel this way, but something was off.

The world around you was quiet. The way home had sparse light, and before that night you had never been afraid of the dark. It comforted you, in fact.

But as you froze in the middle of the path, your heart thumping against your chest, you realized that there was a sound that drowned out everything else. You hadn’t noticed it at first, and now it was almost unbearably loud.

A buzzing filled the air, and you quickly had to cover your ears as it only increased in volume.

You picked up something else, the smell of honey. Slowly, you opened your eyes.

It took a moment to fully comprehend what was before you. There were several humanoid silhouettes surrounding you, and their outlines were… fluffy?

“Is this really her?”

“Yes, I told you she was soft!”

“And she makes the flowers bloom?”

“Yes, yes!”

A hand reached out to tilt your chin up, and you were face to face with some kind of insect-like creature. It was taller than any man you had ever seen, with big black eyes and yellow… fluff? Fuzz? You weren’t sure, but these things didn’t have normal human skin.

“Ah, she’s just as pretty as you said.”

The other creatures let out a satisfied buzz, encircling you. They all seemed rather curious and excited, lifting up parts of your clothing and examining you.

“H-hey!”

When you yelped, they all backed off, seeming confused and a little hurt. “Wh… what the hell are you… things? Why are you following me!?”

The leader stepped forward again, a bit sheepish but understanding. “Sorry… we saw how upset you were about the mess we made and-“

“You all caused that mess!?”

They all let out whines and upset buzzes as you groaned. The entire day had been a nightmare you’d wake up from soon. It had to be.

“I’m going to bed…”

You moved past the group, but they followed after you, seeming concerned and nervous.

“But you’re coming with u-“

His mouth was covered by another’s hand. “We’re sorry for the mess. Please, we’ll help repay you tomorrow. So… don’t be too angry.”

It was hard to stay too angry with them, they sounded genuinely remorseful and a touch sad. “… alright, but you’ll need to be here early tomorrow.”

You went to bed, figuring that this would all be over once you had a good night of sleep. There were no strange bee-like creatures in your front yard, no difficult messes to deal with, just a bad dream.

Unfortunately you were very wrong.

Walking outside with your hot coffee and sporting your pajamas, you were met with several expectant faces.

“You’re awake!”

You stood there for a moment, blinking sluggishly before staring down at your coffee. After blinking a few times, you breathed in and out.

“So… you are real then.”

The creatures were bee hybrids, a species you heard about before. Hybrids weren’t exactly uncommon, but it was rare for insect based hybrids to leave their hives or nests to interact with humans.

They did keep their promise and help you prepare bouquets the entire day, pollinating your flowers and following after you baby ducklings with their mother.

Unbeknownst to you, the bees had been watching you for a while.

It started when they lost their queen.

For months she had been bedridden, and no eggs were laid. Of course, the bee hybrids were much more concerned about their beloved queen than eggs, but she was beside herself with worry.

“Who will take care of you when I’m gone?”

The queen knew she was well past her egg bearing years and was going to die soon. After all, what purpose did a queen have when she couldn’t expand the hive?

“Don’t say things like that, your majesty. You won’t leave us…”

They were stricken with grief after her passing, nearly a year went by before they even considered a new queen.

Their last one had been a bee hybrid born in that very hive. Wanting to keep the tradition of raising a new queen wasn’t possible since she had only ever birthed sons.

Not wanting to take the chance of foreign bee hives trying to spy on them by giving them a female, the bee hybrids looked elsewhere for their next queen.

You happened to be a perfect match.

Not only were you beautiful and plump as a good queen should be, your kind nature and gentle heart told them you would be an amazing mother to the little ones.

The only problem was getting you to the hive.

“She’s so pretty, I love her…” said one of the bee hybrids, his wings fluttering as he watched you remove the thorns from some roses.

“She is. I want to stuff her full of my e-“

The others turned red and buzzed at the horny bee. “H-hey, don’t talk about the queen like that!”

“But that’s what everyone’s thinking…”

The worker bees pouted, flying around you and offering pollen or honey. The guards watched from afar.

Most of the bee hybrids were not what you would call… intelligent. But there were some that ran the show and made all of the important decisions.

“We’ll take her soon. Our hive needs a queen, and if we don’t get one soon, everyone will go mad. We need a queen to mate and protect, it’s what keeps us calm,” said one of the guards, his stinger twitching and ready to attack.

“But she loves working with the flowers. What if we put a strain on her mind? If she is unwell, our hive will suffer with her.”

That was true, the bee hybrids’ productivity and mental well being depended on you. If you were depressed, they would be as well. Not only that, they’d be constantly trying to cheer you up and become worse if you remained in that state for too long.

“I think I know what we can do to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

~

You had never felt so tired in your entire life. The day hadn’t been so tough, but as you closed your eyes to go to bed, suddenly your body felt so heavy that you weren’t sure if you’d ever be able to get up.

Sleep took you, and when you woke up everything seemed… different.

Your usually stiff bed felt incredibly soft, your body melting into the plush material.

“Ugh…”

The moment you let out a groan, you heard the sound of buzzing and frantic voices.

“The queen is awake!”

“Oh, my queen are you alright?”

“Hurry, prepare her breakfast and bring the towels for the bath!”

You rubbed your eyes as you listened to the bustling around you. When your vision was no longer blurry, you could hardly believe what you were seeing.

No longer were you in your small bedroom in your modest home by the forest. The walls of your room were shaped like a honeycomb… no, they were a honeycomb. You could even see the amber colored liquid pooling at the bottom as some bee hybrids scooped it up.

You were laid out on a king sized bed, with thick blankets and plush pillows surrounding you like some kind of nest.

Surrounding you was a swarm of bee hybrids. Some were teeming with excitement and giddy energy, while others peeked around their fellow hybrids with curiosity. The ones closest to you, though, seemed a mix of concerned and nervous, fretting over you.

“Oh, what if she isn’t feeling well? Should we give her some honey?”

“Breakfast first, she can have honey on toast or biscuits.”

“Humans really eat honey in that way?”

While you struggled to get your bearings, they continued to flit about the room doing various things to acclimate you.

“Where… am I?”

Every single one of the bee hybrids paused, their attention solely on you. Several whispered among themselves as their gaze stayed on your plump figure.

“You’re home, my queen.”

A taller, less fluffy bee hybrid walked forward, his expression neutral. He kneeled before you, taking your hand and raising it to his mouth for a kiss.

“Q-queen? What do you-“

All at once they all rushed forward to dote on you. Your body was covered in kisses, and you could feel their soft fluff almost everywhere.

“My queen, we’re so happy!”

“We promise you’ll have a good life here, no more stress or worry!”

Gentle nips and bites were pressed into your sensitive neck and thighs, hands moving to caress and grope all of your body.

You were still groggy, and immediately began to warm up when one hand found its way to your inner thigh. When you let out a startled moan, the bees on the bed began to buzz and focus on that spot.

“Our queen is sensitive!”

A few of them pried your thighs open, inspecting your bare cunt and giving it a few experimental touches and licks. Had they undressed you beforehand?

Their tongues were long and thin, delicate against your slowly hardening clit. You could tell they were all excited by the way their buzzing increased and their bodies shook.

Your scent filled the air, attracting more bee hybrids from the hall. The ones on the bed touched and fondled your sleepy body as the others watched from the sidelines.

Your face heated up when you realized they were stroking their cocks, their eyes glued on your body and the way it was being played with by their peers.

There was no chance to react or cry out in protest, you were being too overwhelmed by pleasure. One of their tongues entered your cunt, making your eyes widen and your fists clench the silk bed sheet underneath you.

“She likes that, don’t stop.”

You felt one of them latch onto your breasts, their long tongue swirling around your nipple. Their antennae tickled your face, and you felt completely overstimulated.

Every touch made you twist and buck your hips, it was hard to control yourself. Never before had you felt such intense pleasure, and it was making you see stars.

‘This has to be some sort of wet dream…’ you thought to yourself, squishing your plush thighs together. ‘Might as well enjoy it…’

“Is she ready yet?” one of them cooed, nuzzling their fluffy face against your neck.

“Not for eggs, but…”

The others backed off, and a smaller, more feminine looking bee hybrid climbed on top of you. He was still at least half a foot taller than you, but tiny compared to the others.

“H-hello, my queen…” he chirped shyly, giving your cheek an affectionate nuzzle. “I’ll be the one to mate with you first…”

He was even fluffier than the others, and his cock was already twitching against your thigh. It was more long than thick, and had a pinkish, orange color.

You reached out to touch it, your fingers wrapping around his length. This made the smaller bee hybrid gasp, his hips bucking wildly in surprise.

The other hybrids stepped closer, buzzing with both excitement and jealousy. Already, the single male was receiving all of your attention… they all wanted a turn!

Fortunately for you, they had been ordered to give you space. This would be your first time with a bee hybrid, and if they weren’t careful, they could end up hurting their precious queen.

Your health and well being meant more to them than anything else.

“M-my queen, ahh!”

His eyes glistened with flustered tears as you stroked his cock, honey colored precum seeping out of the tip. You couldn’t remember the last time you had pleasured yourself.

If this was a dream, you were going to have fun.

You laid on your back, pulling the hybrid in by his hips. It was clear out of the two of you, he was the one lacking experience.

“Oh, you’re so pretty my queen-“ he blubbered out, his hips rutting against yours as his cock settled between your pussy lips. You could feel his tip kissing your clit, and it was enough to have you both let out a shuddering moan.

“Mmph…”

You kissed him, letting his long tongue slip down your throat as you moved your hand to guide his cock towards your entrance.

The moan he let out in your mouth as he sunk into your fat cunt was sinful, and out of the corner of your eye you noticed several of the bees were fucking their fists to the sight of you being fucked by one of their own.

“T-too good! I’m gonna-“

His cum spurted into your womb, he was finishing before he could even properly thrust in and out of you. You were going to whine about it, but something caused you to pause your complaints.

While his cock twitched inside of you, it swelled up, and before you could question what was happening, eggs began to pool into your womb along with his cum.

The feeling of them being fucked into you, stretching your pussy out as the eggs were laid inside of you made your head spin.

Your pussy clenched around the eggs, and before you knew it you were cumming harder than you ever had before. You arched your back, tears running down your cheeks as you rode out your high.

By the end of it, you were a mess. Cum from both you and the bee hybrid pooled around your thighs, soaking into the expensive feeling sheets.

“This… isn’t a dream, is it?”

The hybrid gathered around you, some cooing over your spent, naked body while others were desperate to have their hands on you.

“It’s no dream, my queen!”

“We all love you!”

“Let’s get you to the bath, you deserve to relax!”

You let out a tired sigh as you were carried away. The tub was nearly as big as your bedroom back home, and several of the bees joined you in the warm, pleasantly scented water.

You could smell fresh flowers and honey, and you let out a sigh of relief when several pairs of hands went to work massaging your sore muscles. A pair of two slipped between your thighs, toying with your sensitive clit and feeling around to make sure all of the eggs were safe and sound inside of you.

“Is the water warm enough, my queen?”

Hands cupped your breasts, giving them a playful squeeze before rubbing honey scented soap into them. “Mmph, yes, it’s good…”

You glanced down at your belly, noticing it poked out slightly. The memory of how the eggs felt being pushed inside of you made your cheeks heat up.

This was all a lot to process. If this wasn’t a dream like you had originally assumed, then that meant you had been taken away to a bee hybrid hive and made into a queen.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions…” another bee said, giving you a sympathetic look. “But you don’t have to worry, we’ll cater to your every want and need. You’ll never want for anything.”

Deciding a fight wasn’t worth it, you sunk back into the warm water, letting yourself be pampered and taken care of for now.

“… I want to talk to whoever is in charge here.”

The two hybrid bathing you shared a look before speaking.

“That would be you, my queen.”

You placed a hand on your temple, rubbing it before replying. “I mean, who decided that I would be queen? Surely someone here has been making decisions regarding the hive while there was no queen.”

A silence fell over the room, the only sound being the water droplets falling from your skin.

“Well… I guess that would be the council. Are you requesting a meeting with the council, my queen?”

You nodded, and the two stood before getting you dried off and dressed. They were obedient, doing exactly as you asked. “Are you sure, my queen? You still need your breakfast and-“

“I’m sure, take me to the council.”

The walls of the hive were made of honeycomb, unsurprisingly. Each section contained a bee hybrid that was hard at work, making honey while chattering amongst themselves.

“Haven’t you heard, Bumble? There’s a new queen, and she’s a pretty one too!”

“Yeah, she’s already had her first batch of eggs too!”

“That’s not fair, I wanted to give the queen my eggs first!”

You avoided making eye contact with them, your cheeks hot with embarrassment again. It flustered you to know their words were causing your panties to grow wet.

Hiding was useless, though. The scent of your arousal caused the bee hybrids near you to react. Their antennas twitched while their cocks hardened the second your scent reached them. It was an immediate reaction that had you hiding within the safety of your guards as you were escorted to the council.

“My queen, what brings you here?”

You stood before the council, looking up at their pleasantly surprised faces. There were around 30 of them, all sitting in a half circle. Papers were piled next to each bee, and even while their full attention was on you, their hands still moved to work on the papers in front of them.

‘Busy and a bee’ was a phrase you heard a lot growing up, and as you watched them flit about the room, writing and shouting orders all while keeping their eyes on you, it finally dawned on you how accurate it was.

“I came here with questions. My first one is why am I here?”

They paused their work for a moment, and some shooed away any bees that weren’t in the council before shutting the doors.

“… as you may know, bee hybrid hives consist mainly of males,” one of the council members began, standing and walking towards you.

“Female bees are not born often, meaning that we cannot run a hive without… taking a female on as our queen,” another finished, setting aside a stack of finished papers.

“It’s also a great way to diversify the hive and prevent… inbreeding.”

You raised an eyebrow as the bee hybrid stood in front of you. He was nearly 10 feet tall, and crouched down in front of you, taking your hand before kissing the back of it.

When he looked into your eyes, they sparkled with devotion. “Our undercover agents have been watching you for months. You’re kind, and you love nature. You must know that without a queen, our hive will die out within a year.”

It was hard to look away from his dark orbs. The way he looked at you made your heart race.

“I know that we took you away without asking, but we cannot let you go. Please know that you will be treated with the utmost care, and you will be pampered beyond belief.”

For a moment you stayed quiet, your expression softening. “… what would be expected of me as queen?”

The entire council perked up, some leaping out of their seats in excitement without warning. They quickly returned to their work when the leader gave them a warning glance.

“You only have a handful of responsibilities each day. You greet the public, bond with the children, attend diplomatic meetings, and… breed with your loyal subjects to create your children.”

Your face heated up at the memory of your morning session with the pretty bee hybrid.

“And… I do these every day?”

They nodded. “Diplomatic meetings are less frequent, but everything else is daily.”

Daily… you’d get fucked like that daily?

‘Am I really going to abandon the life I’ve been living for the past few years just to get a good fuck and some pampering?’

Yes. Yes you were.

“Alright… I’m in. Not like I have much of a choice in the matter anyways…”

The bees surrounding you let out happy whines and buzzes. You were surrounded once again, being nuzzled and pulled into fluffy chests. They were all scenting you, obviously happy you were going to be their queen of your own free will.

“Then let’s get you some breakfast, my queen. You have much to do!”

Breakfast was filled with lots of chattering among your current attendants. They were fluffy, jealous things that lounged about in your quarters, burying their faces into your soft body and gossiping amongst themselves.

Once you were done eating, you were escorted to your first duty as queen.

“I hope your royal attendants behaved well. They are just excited to have a queen to dote on again. If you have any sexual needs or desires, they will perform them for you. And do not worry, they cannot produce eggs, so they exist purely for your pleasure and entertainment.”

It seemed strange, but your attendants seemed quite happy and spoiled, so you continued to follow the councilman in charge or guiding you.

“This is the nursery.”

The walls had the same honeycombs as the rest of the hive, but in each one was a crib and a sleeping babe. On the carpeted floor, toddlers waddled and crawled about, playing with toys as they got in their daily exercise.

Almost like a switch had been flipped, their tiny heads turned towards you. The closest baby bee tears up, their tiny, chubby legs struggling to carry them forward as they toddled their way over.

“M-mama!”

Every child within hearing range made their way over, clinging to your legs and fussing as they attempted to crawl up. They held onto your clothing, suckling on any bare skin they could find in an attempt to nurse.

“H-hey, I’m not your-“

The bee hybrid next to you sighed softly. “They won’t listen. You have the scent of their mother now, they want you to hold and feed them.”

Their little eyes were getting red and puffy from crying, they couldn’t understand why their mama wasn’t holding or feeding them.

It was really tugging at your heartstrings. They were just so little, you couldn’t imagine having a baby and how their innocent minds would try to process your death.

“Hey… it’s okay, mama is right here.”

You sat down, letting them climb into your lap and arms. A team of bee hybrids joined you, helping to bottle feed and soothe them.

“Once the eggs in you begin to grow, you’ll start lactating and will be able to feed hordes of the baby bees,” the councilman said, watching how the young ones bonded with you instantly.

“For now, though… you just need to give them your attention and care. They need it.”

As the little ones were laid down for a nap, you were able to sneak out and leave for your next appointment.

“The entire hive knows there is a new queen, gossip gets out fast,” the councilman said as you ate some lunch. Your attendants were playing with your clit, all cooing over how sensitive and hard it was getting under their touch.

There seemed to be no shame with them. You were sitting in the middle of the cafeteria and no one batted an eye as your fat pussy lips were pulled apart so they could lick and fuck your hole with their long tongues.

“However, you’ll still need to make an official appearance in front of the hive… that, and we’ll need to start the breeding ceremony.”

You were having trouble focusing, your fingers tugging on the hair of the bee between your legs. “C-ceremony?”

“Yes, my queen. It is customary for every bee hybrid to take a few days off of work to come and greet the queen. They all get their turns to mate and fill you with some of their own eggs.”

The ceremony began later in the evening. You were brought out before your loyal subjects, dressed in lacy lingerie and placed on a bed.

You felt less like a beloved ruler, and more like a breeding cow being brought out to be sold to the highest bidder.

Every bee bowed before you, dropping to one knee as they waited for you to speak.

“My loyal subjects…”

Just the sound of your voice sent a shiver of excitement through the crowd. You could see them shaking, few already hard and struggling to keep their hands off their pink, throbbing cocks.

“You have all been gathered here for the… breeding ceremony. As thanks for working as hard as you do, you all get a turn to…”

Again, your cheeks began to warm up. You couldn’t believe you were saying this. “… you all get a turn to breed me, your queen. I will take your eggs and incubate them, ensuring your bloodline will continue.”

With that, you laid down. The councilmen ushered forward a group of bee hybrids, and the breeding commenced.

They didn’t want to hurt you, that much was for sure.

Most of the bee hybrids were several feet taller than you, though some stopped at only a few inches above your head. No matter how much they towered over you, their touch was still gentle and hesitant.

None of them had ever touched a human before, much less mated with one. Your body was so sensitive, responding to every nudge and movement of their hands.

One of them sunk their fingers into your cunt, another offering you their cock. You took it into your mouth, causing them to buck their hips.

Your pussy gushed around their fingers.

“S-she’s getting all wet… my queen, is this good for you?”

“Yes, that means she’s excited! You can mate with her now!”

Each cock that entered you was different. Some were short and thick, others thin and long, but a few were both so girthy and long that you felt like you were being split in two.

At one point you were being fucked while jerking off two other bee hybrid and blowing another, trying to please as many as your subjects at once as possible.

The first creampie was almost soothing, the feeling of eggs filling your needy cunt was… mind blowing. You felt so fulfilled, you wanted to be fucked like this forever.

After the tenth bee hybrid though… you were so stuffed full you could barely think. Your tummy was stretched out, looking just about ready to burst.

“Oh, so pretty…” a bee chittered, rubbing your distended belly. “Our queen is doing so well…”

After another five bees had their way with you, the councilmen stepped forward. “That's enough for now, she needs her rest.”

Your attendants were quick to descend upon the bed, buzzing threateningly at every other hybrid that dared to even look at their exhausted queen.

“You truly did do well…” one of them cooed, kissing your temple after they bathed you then tucked you into bed.

“Sleep, you’ll need your rest. Tomorrow will bring even more eggs.”

As you laid down, curled up with a bee hybrid cuddle pile, you couldn’t help but look forward to tomorrow.

You were already becoming an amazing queen… and it had only been a day.

————————

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[rafesangelita]

♡ “i think i’m a little bit, little bit, a little bit in love with you.”— your ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement with rafe comes to an ultimate end when he suddenly says the ‘L’ word while he’s inside of you..

warnings: fwb!rafe, f2l, unprotected sex, praise, slight angst, confessions, mutual pining, fluff, soft aftercare

a/n: now presenting… ‘BE MINE?’ 🤍 me and ‘little bit’ by lykke li will always be locked in!!

link: VALENTINE’S DAY CELEBRATION ໒꒰ྀི｡- ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১

ignorance truly was bliss.

here you were, ignoring the way your heart fluttered and ached at the sight of the man who was currently fucking you into oblivion. of course, rafe wasn’t just any man— no, he was your best friend. while you two were terrified of messing up your friendship with a label other than ‘just friends’, it didn’t stop neither of you from falling for each other, both of you resorting to sex with a bullshit ‘no strings attached’ rule that you two obviously didn’t follow. if spending your nights tangled up in each other’s sheets was the only way to be together non-platonically, then so be it.

rafe had his thumb inbetween your lips, your hand wrapped tightly around his wrist as he slammed into you at an unforgiving pace. you don’t know how long you two have been going at it, or how many orgasms you’ve had, but the only way you could describe how you felt right now was stupid. unable to form a single thought, you sucked on rafe’s digit while he lost himself, his head rolling to the side as your walls sucked him in. “h-holy shit!” his hips stuttered, a whimper leaving your lips when you felt the hot spurts of rafe’s cum paint your insides.

rafe felt the shocks of his orgasm ripple through his body, his body collapsing on top of your own as he writhed in pure unadulterated pleasure. “i.. shit— i fucking love you.” he panted, cradling your head before leaving sloppy kisses against the sensitive flesh of your neck. you sucked in a breath, his words hitting you right where it hurt. blinking rapidly, you heard your heart beating in your ears as your mind began racing a million miles per minute.

did he really mean that?

was he just talking about the sex?

what if he just said it on accident?

you couldn’t focus on anything else. it wasn’t until rafe rolled over, his lips trailing across your chest before he saw the conflicted look on your face. “what’s wrong? are you okay?” you wanted to scoff but settled for a slight shake of your head instead. “you just said you loved me.” rafe’s chest was rising and falling as he swallowed thickly, both of you looking at each other with a knowing look in your eyes.

“i know.”

rafe watched as you sat up, crossing your arms over your chest. “you can’t just say that casually, rafe..” you muttered, suddenly feeling exposed despite being naked in front of him a countless amount of times. rafe moved closer, his hand trailing underneath the plush comforter. rubbing circles into the soft flesh of your thigh, rafe sighed before flashing you a soft smile. “there’s nothing casual about what i said,” he started, “it might’ve came out at a questionable time but i meant it.” rafe met your gaze under the dim lighting of his room, the intensity in his stare making goosebumps spread across your skin.

you stayed silent, pondering his words and the weight they carried. of course you felt the same, there was no doubt about that, but to say that you weren’t scared of what this meant would be a lie. you two were entering a new kind of territory. this wasn’t just ‘friendly’ sleepovers anymore, it was more complicated than that. you had sworn off any man that wasn’t rafe, your best friend consuming every fiber of your being. little did you know, rafe had been exclusive with you since he realized he couldn’t stand to not be near you. he needed to see you, talk to you, touch you everyday.

you had undoubtedly made a home for yourself in his brain and his heart, and he had no intentions of ever kicking you out. “do you really?” you couldn’t help but ask, your fingertips finding his under the covers. rafe studied your face, engraving your features into his mind as he thought about what to say next. “i’m gonna tell you something..” he pulled you close, caging you between his arms as he traced the soft curve of your lips, “i can’t pinpoint exactly when i started feeling this way, apart of me thinks i always have, you just made it easier for me to realize it.” his breath fanned your cheek as he spoke.

“everyone on this island has their own idea of me, but you? you know me for who i really am. i’ve never had to put on a show, i’ve never had to fear judgement from you. you just get me, you know?” you felt so warm and fuzzy inside, you couldn’t help but bury your face in his chest. “i love you too, rafe.” he felt like he could breathe when that sentence finally sounded from your mouth, his shoulders relaxing as he released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “yeah?” he pulled away to cup your face as you nodded. “yeah, i just— i didn’t know how to go about something like this.”

rafe hummed in agreement, both of you looking at each other momentarily before leaning in for a kiss. once your lips touched, you felt relief wash over you; months of pent up tension leaving your body. rafe couldn’t believe that everything was out in the open now. “well, our anniversary date is impossible to forget since it’s on valentine’s day.” your heart fluttered in your chest at the proposition. “anniversary date?” you repeated. “yeah.. you didn’t think we’d be single after this, did you?” you giggled against his lips, welcoming him between your thighs again.

“no, i suppose not.”

[verstappenverse]

Just Another Valentine

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Every year you and Lando spend Valentine’s Day together as part of an unspoken tradition, but this year something feels different, something that is impossible for you to ignore.

1.8k words / Masterlist

Valentine’s Day always had a way of making you feel like a spectator in your own life.

The smell of chocolate and overpriced roses was thick in the air, reminding you of the one day of the year you could always count on to make you feel at least a little pathetic.

It wasn’t that you hated it. It was cute in theory, love, grand gestures, all of that. But when you were single, the whole thing felt a bit like a slap in the face. And unfortunately, this year was no different.

But at least you had one constant.

Lando had a habit of making sure neither of you ever spent this day alone. Every year, if you were both single (which, more often than not, you were), he’d take you out, making sure the day didn’t pass unnoticed. It started as a joke years ago and then, it happened again. And again. Until it was basically tradition.

So when your phone lit up that morning with a text from him saying, Pick you up at seven. Wear something nice 😉 you knew exactly what it meant.

And for some reason, you spent the whole day trying not to overthink it.

By the time 7:00 p.m. rolled around you had already changed twice, first into something dressy, then into something a little more casual, only to second-guess yourself and switch again. Which was ridiculous because it was just Lando.

The same Lando who raided your fridge without asking, who stole your blankets during movie nights without a hint of remorse, who had seen you half-asleep and drooling on the couch more times than you cared to admit. The Lando who teased you endlessly, who could read your mood with a single glance. Lando who had seen you at your absolute worst, stressed over exams, hungover from nights you barely remembered, even the times when you’d just been a mess of emotions, and he never once flinched.

So why were your hands shaking a little when you opened the door?

Lando leaned against the frame, dressed in something a little nicer than his usual hoodie and joggers, a fitted black sweater and dark tailored trousers, smelling like something expensive. His signature grin was in place, dimples and all, as his gaze ran over you slowly, eyes darkening slightly, though he covered it with a smirk.

“Damn,” he said, cocking his head. “You really listened to me.”

You rolled your eyes. “You said ‘wear something nice.’ I figured you’d complain if I showed up in pyjamas.”

He put a hand over his heart in mock offense “I would never complain about anything you wore,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, grabbing your coat. “Yeah, yeah. You want a gold star or something?”

“I’ll take a kiss on the cheek.”

You snorted. “In your dreams Norris.”

“You have no idea.”

You lightly smacked his arm as he led you out. The cool February air nipped at your skin as you got into his car, but it was warm inside, the radio playing quietly.

“So,” you said, glancing over. “What’s the plan?”

“You’ll see.”

Ten minutes later, you were standing in front of a little restaurant you’d never been to before. Intimate, dimly lit, tucked away in a quiet part of town. Fairy lights lined the outdoor seating area, and through the windows, you could see tables set with candles, couples leaning in close over their meals.

The hostess led you to a table by the window, and Lando pulled out your chair, waiting until you sat before taking his own seat across from you. You raised an eyebrow at his oddly formal behavior, but he just smiled, picking up the menu like this was all completely normal.

“You really planned this?” you asked.

Lando leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

You eyed him, tapping the menu. “I don’t know. It’s suspicious.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Remind me how you’re single again?”

You exhaled a laugh, running a finger along the edge of your glass. “Probably the same reason you are.”

HIs expression flickered, something unreadable passing over his face before he leaned back, exhaling through his nose with a laugh.

“Has it ever occurred to you,” you asked, “that we’ve spent more Valentine’s Days with each other than with people we’ve actually dated?”

Lando looked up. “Huh. Now that you mention it… yeah.”

You shook your head with a laugh. “Kinda sad, isn’t it?”

He laughed. “Or maybe we just have shit taste in partners.”

You hummed, swirling the wine in your glass. “Speak for yourself.”

“Oh, trust me, I am.” He shrugged. “Or maybe it just means we have good taste.”

“In each other?”

“Obviously.” He grinned. “C’mon, like I need an excuse to spend time with you.”

You paused for a second, something warm settling in your stomach.

The two of you had always been like this, flirting without thinking, teasing each other like it was second nature. But tonight, something felt different. The way his eyes lingered longer on you when you spoke. The way his fingers brushed yours when he handed you a drink. The way your knees touched under the table, neither of you moving away.

Then, as the waiter cleared the table, Lando reached under his seat and pulled out an elegantly wrapped box, sliding it across to you.

You blinked at it. “What’s this?”

“Open it.”

Inside was a Lego Bouquet set, a build-your-own floral arrangement, colorful and intricate.

You let out a surprised laugh, shaking your head. “You got me Lego flowers?”

“They won’t die,” he said, “and we could you know…build them together, it could be fun.”

You bit your lip, warmth spreading through your chest. “You really didn’t have to.”

“I know,” he said, softer this time. “But I wanted to.”

You ran your fingers over the box, heart pounding a little harder than it should’ve been.

Lando rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking unsure. “Is it weird?”

You shook your head. “No. It’s… really sweet.”

His lips twitched. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You didn’t know why your voice was so quiet.

You let yourself relax as the evening passed, enjoying the food, the conversation, the way Lando somehow always knew how to make you laugh, and by the time dinner was over, the restaurant was starting to empty.

Lando leaned back in his chair, watching you. “So, did I do a good job?”

You smirked. “It was okay.”

He gasped dramatically. “Just okay?”

“Always fishing,” you laughed, nudging his foot under the table. “Fine. It was great. Thanks for making today a little less depressing.”

He scoffed with a laugh. “Wow. That’s the gratitude I get?”

You rolled your eyes but softened. “Alright, alright. You really didn’t have to do all this, you know.”

Lando tilted his head. “Yeah, I did.”

There was something in the way he said it that made your breath catch for a second. But before you could process it, he was standing up and paying the bill.

“C’mon,” he said, holding out a hand. “One more stop.”

You recognised where you were the second he parked up.

“The beach?”

He shrugged, killing the engine. “Yeah.”

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “In February? You hate the cold.”

He shot you a sideways glance, “I also hate traffic, but that would never stop me from picking you up.”

It was quiet this time of night, the sound of the waves filling the space between you as you walked along the sand. The air was cool, but Lando had given you his jacket somewhere along the way, and you pulled it tighter around yourself.

After a while, he stopped, hands stuffed in his pockets as he looked out at the water.

You stood next to him, stealing a glance at his profile. The soft glow of the city lights reflecting from the water caught the edges of his face, the sharp line of his jaw, the slight furrow in his brow.

After a moment, he sighed. “You okay?”

You blinked, glancing over. “Yeah. Why?”

“You’ve been quiet.”

You shrugged, toeing at the sand. “Just thinking.”

Lando hummed. “About?”

And then, without thinking, you said it. “I can’t help but think that this is a little more effort than someone would normally put in for their friend.”

Lando turned to you, eyes searching yours.

For a second, neither of you said anything.

Then—

“Guess I’m not as subtle as as I thought.”

You swallowed. “Lando—”

“I know,” he cut in, running a hand through his hair. “Bad timing, right? But I just… I don’t know how to keep pretending that I only do things like this because we’re friends.”

Your heart was hammering. “So, all of this—”

“Was me trying to tell you without actually telling you.” He scratched the back of his neck, looking almost shy.

You stared at him, the weight of his words settling over you.

And then, suddenly, it all made sense.

The way he always put you first. The way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. The way he showed up, year after year, on this day of all days. The way you never questioned it, because, well, deep down, you had always wanted it.

You took a step closer. “Lando.”

His eyes flickered to your lips before meeting your gaze again. “Yeah?”

You smiled. “You really didn’t need all this effort.”

His brows furrowed. “What do you—”

You kissed him before he could finish.

For a second, he froze. Then, his hands found your waist, pulling you in as he kissed you back.

You pulled back. “Say it.”

Lando swallowed, his jaw tightening. “What?”

“Say it,” you repeated, voice softer this time.

His fingers twitched around your waist.

Then, low and rough, “I want you.”

Your stomach flipped.

When you finally pulled back you were both breathing hard, the air between you charged. Lando's hands lingered on your waist, his thumb tracing absent circles against your hip, like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

He let out a shaky laugh, exhaling slowly. “Fuck.”

You swallowed, your fingers still curled into the fabric of his sweater. “Yeah.”

His eyes flickered between yours, searching, like he was making sure he hadn’t just imagined it. Then, his lips curved into a smirk, soft, almost disbelieving.

“So… that wasn’t just a ‘thanks for dinner’ kind of kiss, was it?”

You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “No, Lando. It wasn’t.”

His smirk deepened. “Good. Cause I was really gonna struggle pretending otherwise.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

He nudged your chin up with a knuckle. “You’re sure about this?”

You looked at him, really looked at him, the way his eyes held yours, the way his grip on you hadn’t loosened, the way this had always been inevitable.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “I’m sure.”

Lando grinned, eyes bright with something you weren’t sure you’d ever seen before.

“Finally,” he muttered, pulling you in again.

[muqingslover]

[ I've seen how Caleb is often described to be a sex god without any experience at every first time (and I eat it up) but I also think we should discuss the other side of it. Kinda of an addition to my previous post ]

Let's discuss virgin Caleb that since he hit puberty has been struggling with his own desires and when he finally received the green light from you it's like a dam was unleashed.

This man is BEYOND sensitive. And so damn needy too, to the point that greedy would be a much more suitable word for him.

He started having wet dreams about you after the first kiss and the walk of shame to the bathroom every morning to wash his boxers is very real.

He's got a leaking and painful boner every time you kiss him for a little too long and he can't get enough of the taste of your tongue on his.

Having you on his lap is both bliss and torture. He'd try to hide the fact he's hard the first few times, not wanting to scare or pressure you, but each time your hips pressed down against his boner he'd be rolling his eyes back into his head and forcing down a groan.

I'm a dry-humping truther and I firmly believe the first time he came with you was by rubbing himself against your leg like the dog he is while you two were making out.

Caleb is mortified about his first experience with a blow job and he wishes you'd forget such an embarrassing moment of him.

But in all honesty, it wasn't his fault. You offered out of nowhere, which left him no time to mentally prepare, and just by having you kneeling down in front of him with your hand wrapped around his cock had him gripping the edge of the desk behind him, to the point the wood creaked at the sheer pressure.

And when you licked along the precum that was dripping down his length and pushed your tongue against his swollen tip he came and he came hard. His cum coating your face, getting onto some parts of your hair and in your mouth.

It goes without saying that he spent the rest of the day apologizing, but the sight of you swallowing his cum that had gotten onto your lips made him dizzy and hard again.

I'm sure he'll be fantastic in bed eventually, but your first time is a mess. Literally. Caleb is so eager to explore the body he's desired for so long and to please you as much as you do to him.

Everywhere he can reach is littered with dark and very obvious hickeys.

He'd have your hands pinned next or above your head so you couldn't touch him otherwise he knows he won't last at all.

Though, all his efforts bear no fruit because the second this man bottoms out inside of your warm and tight insides he is cumming again.

His body would tremble as he held his entire weight on his forearms to not crush you and he bit down on his lips.

After switching condoms, you'd have to get on top while his shaky legs recover from his orgasm and oh gods he's really trying his fucking best right now.

He's panting against your neck when you roll your hips and cause a loud moan to escape his lips, followed by his strong arms wrapping around your middle like a bear hug as if to keep himself grounded. It's rather cute, really.

He'd come with you this time, if not a little before from you clenching around his cock and the sweet whimpers because he's oh so very sensitive.

His hands would feel up your thighs then shamelessly grab your ass while he looked up at you, loving the view of you on top of him and he's got the cockiest grin you've ever seen on his face.

Now we're talking about someone with YEARS of suppressed sexual desires so you better brace yourself because he's far from done.

Caleb would use the entire night to learn everything he possibly can about your body, besides what he already knew. Each sweet spot that make you cry so good for him and just how deep he can hit inside of you to have you gasping for more.

He's sloppy, he's desperate, he's pathetic and it's messy. He'd ask between shaky breaths and his tone is almost whiny "Does that good? I need you to talk to me sweetheart, c'mon."

"Tell me what you want and I'll do it. Teach me how to make you feel good."

"Can I go deeper? Fuck- Please? Please? you feel so good-"

"I can't stop— Just one more, I'll make it good for you too, please, gods please, I need more of you or I'll go insane."

Caleb is the type of pathetic loser that would get a nosebleed while he pounded into you for the nth time.

He'd kiss you when you showed concern, spit trickling down your chin as the taste of iron would spread on your tongue before he pulled away to admire the sight of you completely disheveled for him. Because of him.

He licks the few drops on your chest, the crimson smearing with the sweat glistening on your skin and leaving a trail that only added to the perverted satisfaction that you're his.

Almost every position is crossed off the list in a single night and he's willing to do anything you ask of him. You want to ride him again? He's sat. You want him to hit it from the back? He's got you on your hands and knees already. You want him to eat you out? Please, by all means take a seat on his face. You have complete control over everything that happens most of the time.

It's morning by the time you two pass out, or run out of condoms in the box honestly, but you can fully expect him to try something when he gets into the shower with you the next day. Hey, he's just helping you clean up like a good boyfriend should ;) .

[solxamber]

Giving Them Chocolates on Valentine's Day with: Savanaclaw

Go here for other dorms

Leona Kingscholar

You find Leona sprawled out under his favorite tree, one arm draped over his eyes, looking about two seconds away from a nap.

Typical.

You take a deep breath, shoving down every ounce of nervousness, and step closer, holding out the neatly wrapped box. “Here.”

Leona cracks one eye open, lazily glancing at the chocolates like you just handed him an average Tuesday. With a low hum, he takes them, rolling the box in his hand with a raised brow.

“Hm? What’s this for?”

You narrow your eyes. “What do you think it’s for?”

He stretches, completely unbothered, as if he gets gifted chocolates all the time (which, okay, maybe he does, but that’s not the point right now).

“Dunno," he drawls, clearly messing with you. "You bribing me for something?”

Your eye twitches. “Leona.”

He huffs a laugh, finally looking at you, amusement flickering in his gaze. And then you say it.

"Happy Valentine’s Day."

And oh.

It’s like you hit him with a truck.

His smirk falters for half a second, his fingers tightening ever so slightly around the box. His pupils dilate—a barely-there shift, but you catch it.

He goes quiet. Not his usual lazy, I-don't-care quiet, but the kind that comes when he’s actually processing something.

Then, so smoothly it almost throws you off, he leans back, a slow, pleased grin spreading across his face.

"…Took you long enough," he murmurs, sounding downright smug.

Your heart does a stupid flip. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

Leona ignores you, already sitting up properly, one arm resting lazily over his knee. "Pick a nice place for dinner tonight," he says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. "On me, of course."

You blink. "What?"

He taps the box. "These chocolates. They’re from you. To me." He tilts his head, all sharp confidence and warmth. "That makes us partners now, doesn’t it?"

Your brain short-circuits. “I—wait, what—"

"Better choose somewhere good," he continues, completely unbothered by your struggling. "I’m not wasting our first date on cheap takeout."

Your heart is going through it.

Leona smirks. "Oh? What’s with that look?"

You swear you see his tail flick just slightly, the only sign of how incredibly pleased he is.

You groan, covering your face with your hands. "You’re doing this on purpose."

He chuckles, leaning in just close enough to murmur, "Yeah, yeah. You still like me, though."

…You’re doomed.

Ruggie Bucchi

You barely get the chance to say anything before Ruggie spots the chocolates in your hands. His sharp eyes flicker to the heart-shaped box, and he immediately grins.

“Oooh, what’s this?” He leans in slightly, tail swishing with interest. “Someone confess to ya?”

You blink. “Huh? No.”

He tilts his head, playful and curious. “Oh? Then, uh… you gonna keep it?”

You narrow your eyes. “Why?”

His grin widens. “Because if ya don’t want it, I can, y’know… dispose of it for ya.”

You snort. “Ruggie, you just wanna eat it.”

“Duh.” He laughs, not even bothering to deny it. “Be a shame to waste good chocolate, right?”

Typical Ruggie.

You shake your head, amused, before finally shoving the box toward him. “Good thing it’s for you, then.”

Ruggie pauses.

It’s subtle, the way his ears perk up, the way his tail stiffens mid-swing. His grip on the box is light at first, almost hesitant, like he’s making sure he heard you right.

“For me?” His voice comes out softer, almost cautious.

You nod, suddenly a little shy under his gaze. “Yeah. I like you. So, you know… Happy Valentine’s Day.”

For the first time, Ruggie looks completely, utterly stunned.

His mouth parts slightly, blinking up at you like his brain just hit a temporary loading screen. And honestly? He looks adorable.

Then—just as quickly as the surprise hit—he recovers.

Ruggie grins, his usual confidence flickering back into place as he shifts the box under one arm. “Well, well. Ain’t this a nice surprise?”

You raise a brow. “You okay there?”

“Pfft. ‘Course I am!” He laughs, shaking his head. “Just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”

Then—softer, warmer, but still undeniably Ruggie— “I like you too, y’know.”

Your heart stumbles.

He notices, obviously, because his grin turns downright cheeky. “Heh. Look at you, getting all flustered."

“Oh, shut up.”

He just laughs again, effortlessly slipping his fingers through yours, tugging you along like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “C’mon, let’s go. Can’t let all this romantic energy go to waste, right?”

And just like that—you’re dragged along.

Jack Howl

Jack is not the kind of guy who gets flustered easily. He’s tough, level-headed, always the first to brush things off with that no-nonsense attitude of his.

Which is why seeing him completely short-circuit is so incredibly satisfying.

You hold out the chocolates, your heart hammering as you say, “These are for you. I like you, Jack. Happy Valentine’s.”

His ears shoot straight up. His tail freezes mid-sway. His mouth opens like he’s about to say something, but—nothing.

No words. No sound. Just pure, stunned silence.

You wait.

And wait.

Jack still says nothing.

But his tail? His tail is betraying him completely.

It explodes into motion, wagging so fast that you swear he’s about to lift off like a helicopter. NASA is calling. He’s about to reach orbit.

“…Jack?” you prompt, biting back a smile.

He blinks rapidly, as if rebooting, and finally—finally—manages to form words.

“I—” He clears his throat, cheeks flushed, voice a little strained. “I like you too.”

Your heart skips.

Jack rubs the back of his neck, glancing to the side like he’s gathering his courage. “Are you, uh… free tonight?”

You tilt your head. “Why?”

He shifts awkwardly. The tail is still going. “Because I wanna take you on a date.”

Your stomach flips. “Yeah,” you say, smiling. “I’d like that.”

Jack nods, determined, as if locking this in before fate can take it away. “Good. I’ll—I’ll plan something nice.”

You have never seen him this flustered. It is absolutely adorable.

And judging by the way his tail refuses to stop wagging, you’re pretty sure he’s never been this happy, either.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[reidrum]

i can do a lot with fifteen minutes

note: short n sweet deluxe dropped halfway through writing this and basically she wrote fifteen minutes for this fic specifically. user reidrum is feeling festive so we are pink today, happy valentine's day friends <3

summary: in which you and spencer don't make it out the door on date night

cw: smut 18+ minors dni, p in v sex, fingering, oral (m receiving), mirror usage, switch!spencer (shocking for me too), reader wears a dress and lingerie, fluff, hot losers in love, this is pure filth actually

wc: 3.8k

The green satin dress held against you in front of the mirror is beautiful, flattering. The modest length with light ruching accentuates your figure like an ethereal being. Fairy like, angel like as Spencer loves to liken you to. 

The red silk dress is dangerous. With a slit leaving little to imagination, the deep hue reflects off your skin like a siren waiting to trick the sorry sailor into submitting. It’s a weapon almost, and you’re not sure if you’re willing to wield it tonight on a small dinner date.

The question was whether you wanted to look dangerously alluring or divinely beautiful. Your head turns at the sound of footsteps and your breath hitches as you catch a glimpse of Spencer walking past the door dressed in dark slacks and a dark maroon button up, tie undone around his neck. Mismatched socks, of course. 

You go with the red one.

You remove it from the hanger and gently slip it over your body, sliding the straps over your shoulders and reaching back to pull the zipper up. Realizing the zipper is too high for you to do it on your own, you call in reinforcements.

“Spencer!” you call out, “Can you come help me zip up please?”

“Sure baby, give me one second!” he calls back from down the hall.

You cross an arm over your chest to hold the dress in place while you grab the necklace Spencer had gifted you earlier that day, twisting awkwardly to put it on but eventually successful. You bend back down to look for the matching earrings, digging through your drawers and jewelry dishes. Your fingers rummage through the mess and you finally find them, grinning at your small win before gasping in surprise at the hands that encircle your waist.

“Shit, Spence. You scared me.” you chuckle, straightening up to press against his chest with your back.

His hands roam around your lower waist while pressing and gripping in the places he knows so intimately, a chaste kiss to your shoulder, “Sorry, couldn’t help myself. You want me to zip it up now?”

You gently part from his arms and walk over to the mirror again, “Let me just adjust it first and then you can.” He nods and follows you, standing a few steps behind you as he watches you fix the straps and lay of the dress. Spencer can never get used to this part, he might never for as long as you allow him the grace of being in your life. You meet his eyes again in the mirror and smile softly, “Okay, can you?”

He returns your smile with pure affection and steps to be only an inch behind you, his proximity giving leeway to invasion by your perfume. The sweet smell surrounds every fiber of him and threatens to render him useless, but he perseveres and clears his throat in hopes of him tethering himself back down. He raises his fingers to your shoulders and ghosts along the curve until he reaches the nape of your neck. Your shiver doesn’t go unnoticed when Spencer tenderly brushes your hair to the side giving him clear access to the zipper.

“You okay?” he asks softly.

You meet his eyes again through the mirror, one of his hands on your waist while the other is brushing your hair to one side. Your heart is beating rapidly, sensing the intense intimacy and energy radiating from the moment. With a shaky exhale you reply, “Yeah just, felt a breeze.”

He hums in acknowledgment and the corners of his lips twitch up in a knowing manner from behind you, completely aware you’re not able to see it. He moves his hand from his waist to hover at the base of the zipper near your lower back, his breath hitching as he spots your lace panties peeking out of the opening. His finger grazes the fabric unintentionally as he grips the zipper and begins to slowly pull it up. The small jump you give makes his hand return to your waist, holding you harder so you don’t move around.

The sound of the zipper winding up fills the silence in the room, the accidental brushes of his fingers against your bare skin sending electric shocks throughout your body. By the time he reaches the top his shaky breaths are hitting warm on your nape, making no move to back away. 

You smile, “Thank you.”

His hands don’t leave you, they return back to their rightful place encircled around you. “Is this a new dress?” he murmurs.

You wrap your own arms on top of his and lean back into him, a small smirk gracing your face as you sense the intention of your dress choice starting to settle. “Yeah, just got it on a whim. You like it?”

Spencer swallows, “I love it, I’ll buy you one of these in every color. It can be the only thing you ever wear.”

A giggle escapes you, and Spencer smiles widely. He looks at you again through the mirror and takes in your whole appearance. You’ve always had a natural beauty to you that Spencer admired and marveled at constantly, but when you got all dressed up? For him? There aren’t enough neurons in his brain that will ever make him understand how the Aphrodite reincarnate is in love with him. He thanks any and every god watching for blessing him in this way.

“You smell so good,” he groans, “You wash your hair? It’s so soft, I could nap in it. The necklace looks pretty on you, ‘m glad you like it. God, I love you so much.”

You laugh softly, tilting your head back into his neck and pressing a kiss to his lower jaw, “I love you too.” He returns a kiss to your cheek and lets his lips travel about your body like a map.

His lips trail the open skin of your shoulders, “You look,” kiss, “so beautiful,” kiss, “This color,” kiss, kiss, “Didn’t think I’d like red this much.” Kiss. Hold. Release.

“You should see what I have underneath.” your voice holds a teasing lilt.

Spencer freezes behind you, his resolve breaking and crumbling by the second. “Sweetheart, don’t tease me. We won’t make it out the door if you do.”

A few moments pause, then you speak barely above a whisper, “And what if I want that?”

He locks eyes with you again through the mirror, the silent communication between you both confirming you’re on the same page. The mischief floods his eyes. “Then you’ll get it.”

It was an unconscious decision to place the mirror in front of the bed—the only place where it fit logistically. But Spencer likes to think it was a subconscious decision in that you hoped one day it would serve its purpose in the way you wanted.

Which secretly may have been the way he wanted, but it’s a mutualistic win either way.

He releases you from his arm and walks back to sit on the edge of the bed. Before you can mourn the loss of his warmth he speaks with a low rasp, “Come here.”

You stare at him doe eyed, stunned into paralysis somehow. His smirk only grows wider when he realizes he’s slowly rendering you defenseless. He holds a hand out for you, “Just come here, baby. Want to show you something.”

The autopilot finally kicks in and you take a few steps closer to stand in front of him. Once you’re within reach he slides his hands up the sides of your waist, gently nudging you, “Turn around.”

Satisfied when you listen, his hands pull your hips down to perch you in his lap facing the mirror. He secures your waist with an arm and rubs the other over the expanse of your bare thighs. Your eyes flutter shut with the warm contact flushing through your skin, head falling to rest atop his given your slight height advantage whilst sat on his lap. The position gives him perfect access to the crevice of your neck allowing him to lean up and attach to the sensitive skin there, delicately suckling before moving up to the crest of your ear.

“You know, studies have shown that watching yourself be pleasured through a mirror has proven to be a more intense experience than normal.” 

He hooks his legs around your ankles and parts them open. You gasp at the sudden rush of cold air between your thighs, finding yourself unable to close them even if you tried. He gently grips your jaw and slowly turns your face to meet the mirror again.

“Look how pretty you are sitting on my lap, baby.” he coos, “All pliant and perfect. I could do whatever I want with you,” a soft whine leaves you, he chuckles, “Would you like that? Watch me let me have my way with you?”

“Spence,” you whisper, “I…”

His lips ghost your ear, “What is it, pretty girl? What do you need?”

You whimper as his fingers start to trace tantalizing circles up your legs into your upper thigh. 

“Can’t do anything if you don’t tell me. Be a good girl and use your words.”

You curse softly, “Fuck, W—Want you…to touch me…please.”

Spencer wickedly grins, “Such good manners,” His hand delves between your thighs and lightly traces the outline of your panties, “Want you to watch yourself while I touch you, okay?”

You nod, he stops. You panic, “Y—Yes, okay.”

He finally applies pressure to your core and you let out a shuddered breath, his finger dragging up and down and circling at the top creating a beautifully addicting friction. You moan softly and tilt your head back to rest on his shoulder and he tuts, “Eyes up, sweetheart.”

You’re about to protest when his finger hooks onto the side of your panties and settles between your folds, dipping down to swipe at your entrance and spreading the wetness all over you. A languish moan breaks from your throat as your eyes are fixated on the mirror, watching his hand work in between your legs. Spencer hasn’t taken his eyes off you either, though does he ever, equally entranced at the way you react to his ministrations.

He prods at your hole as you attempt to buck your hips up, his arm clamping you down and closer to him, “It’s okay, shh I got you. Always got you, yeah?” His finger finally slides inside you and you let out a deep groan feeling the motion of him slipping in and out of you so easily, “So wet, baby. Doesn’t take too much to get you like this, huh?”

“Spence…” you whine, “More,,,please.”

“I know, patience, pretty girl.” slyly slipping in a second finger, “Doing so good f’me, look how beautiful you are.”

You force your eyes back to the mirror and a fresh wave of intoxication invades you as you clock the heavy rise and fall of your chest, the lewd sound of his fingers working you to your peak. He was right, you looked hot. It’s like you’ve unlocked a new level of sensuality that you didn’t even know existed and seeing yourself in this way only adds to the building tension.

He speeds up ever so slightly and feels you clench irregularly around his fingers, he lets his thumb drag up to your clit and rub lazy circles around it. The moans fall out of you with no control anymore as you feel your peak approaching fast. Spencer whispers praises, coaxing you closer to the edge, “Look at yourself when you come.”

The dam breaks and gratification floods throughout your body, you watch yourself as you see it take a hold of you so carnally. His fingers don’t stop inside you, slowly working you through your orgasm watching alongside you in the mirror with awe. Eventually he removes himself from your core not breaking eye contact with you as he raises his fingers to your mouth, you opening up without hesitation and swirling your tongue around them. His breath stutters, he’s so in love with you it hurts.

You’re still deep in the haze of coming down from your high, waiting for your senses to calibrate and remember where you even are when the sound of a zipper pulls you back down instead.

“Spence?” you ask breathlessly.

He hums, “Yes?”

“What are you doing?”

“Said I should see what you have underneath, just taking up your offer baby. That okay?” The zipper hits the base of your dress just at the crest of your panties, the rush of air invading your back.

It’s like a click goes off in your head as soon as you’ve fully calmed down and you remember what your initial plan for the night was. A slow grin crawls onto your face.

“More than okay, in fact let me show you.” You stand up slowly making a point to jut your hips back to him as you make a show of sliding the dress down your body.

Now, Spencer is very much used to feeling breathless around you. It’s basically a default setting for him at this point. But as you turn around to face him with the smugly innocent smile on your face and slowly sink to your knees before him clad in the lace set he so bravely thought he could handle with conviction, his heart makes a mockery of him by stopping in protest of the nerve he had.

The clinking of his belt draws his focus back to the moment as he watches you undo it with the button and zipper, nudging him to lift his hips so you can pull them down. He listens blindly like he’s trapped under a spell. The siren effect, the zealous sailor who believes himself to be strong enough to brave the seas for so long only to succumb to the temptations of the siren song.

He never stood a chance.

Your hand comes up to palm him through his boxers, licking your lips with a smirk as you trace over the wet patch. The alternating pressure causes Spencer’s breath to huff deeper, impatiently. He has to suppress a whine when your fingers finally reach his waistband and painstakingly peel it back to take him out.

It’s your turn to tut at him, “You were so talkative just now, don’t stop on my account.” Your thumb and pointer form a ring around him and you slowly drag it up and down his length, tightening around him at different points.

“Baby, don’t tease me please.” he begs.

“What, like you did? I’d never be so cruel, my love.” you say innocently. You lean down and lick a stripe on him from base to tip, letting your tongue swirl around the head. Choked gasps and curses fall from his lips as you sink your mouth down on him, taking him as far back as you can. He tries to feel a little bad as his hand flies to your hair, your beautifully done hair, but he can’t bring himself to care when he hits the back of your throat and you gag a little before pulling back slightly. His hands gather your hair in a makeshift ponytail and watches with bated breath as you bob your head up and down on him. His eyes wander up behind you, remembering the mirror and the sight staring back at him is so pornographically obscene the loud whimper leaves him without warning.

Much to his soft protests you remove your mouth from and continue to lazily stroke him. He pouts down at you, “Wh–Why’d you stop?”

With another kiss to his tip you rise to your full height and push him back to lie flat on the bed, his legs bent at the edge with the backs of his calves flush with the bed. “Because I want you to come inside me, is that okay?” you say with such blunt honesty it goes straight to his groin.

He swallows hard, “God, yeah sweet girl that’s okay. Come here.”

You move your hands to your back to remove your bra before Spencer protests again, “Wait, keep it on.” 

You raise your eyebrows before grinning widely, “Any other requests?”

“Kiss?”

Your eyes soften, climbing atop him to straddle him on each side of his hips. You cup his jaw gently and lean down pressing your lips gingerly to his, whispering a low “Love you” before pulling back all the way. Spencer gazes up at you like you hold the answers to everything in the universe, like you are the answer to everything in the universe. He would gladly spend the rest of his life searching for the unknown if it meant reaching you at the end of it all.

“Love you too.”

You hook a finger over your panties and drag it to the side and position yourself over him, teasing yourself with his tip before slowly starting to sink down on him. The joint whine from you both rings about the room as you bottom out above him, his hands flying to your hips to hold you in place. He breathes out heavily, trying to think about literally anything else besides how tight you feel wrapped around him, how hard he’s refraining from bucking his hips up into you, how the blissed out look on your face is enough to make him come on sight and he hasn’t even moved at all.

“Feel so full, Spence,” you raise your hips tentatively, “Need to move, please,”

Like he’d ever say no to you. “Okay baby, I got you,”

You start to move with fervor, Spencer’s hand glued to your waist guiding you as you set the pace. You place your hands on his chest to give yourself leverage as you bounce on his cock, lewd moans and curses mixing with the sounds of your bodies meeting and him moving in and out of you.

Spencer feels delirious, meeting your hips as they clamp down on him with his own thrusts. You attempt to quicken your pace, but your wobbly legs cause your hips to stutter irregularly. He senses your struggle and plants his feet on the bed and tugs you to lay on his chest.

“Hold on, okay?”

You hazily nod and let Spencer take over as he ruts up into you at a pace you can barely comprehend. His hands are pressed into your hips so hard you know it’s going to leave beautiful imprints. He groans when you clench around him tightly again, and it’s then you feel your second orgasm of the night approaching fast, “Spence… ‘m close.”

“It’s okay baby, I got you. You can let go.” he whispers.

The second wave of your climax hits you hard, effectively sending your mind in reeling circles before you land back down in his arms. He continues to chase his own high and spills into you a few seconds later, lazily thrusting you both as you ascend back down to this realm.

You lay limp over his body making no intention to move and Spencer going soft inside you. He smooths your hair back while pressing kisses to the crown of your head.

“You look like an angel,” he murmurs with a soft kiss to your nose, “You are an angel.”

A soft smile spreads on your face pressing into his neck with a laugh, “You always say that after.”

“Because it’s always true.”

You lift your head up a little to look into his hazel brown eyes and pepper kisses all over his face before landing soundly on his mouth. “I love you.”

“I love you, angel.”

“I don’t think we’re going to make our reservation anymore.” you sigh out and wrap your arms around his body, making yourself comfortable atop Spencer. He breathes out, “I already canceled it, don’t worry.”

“What? When did you do that?”

“When I realized you were wearing this dress I called them before I came in to help you.” he admits sheepishly.

You chuckle, “Lost before we even started, think that’s a new record for me.”

He flips you over with a yelp, “Think I need to redeem myself, don’t you think?”

“How do you suppose we do that?”

“I have a couple ideas.”

[hahashifts]

Hero POV:

It was a simple job - get to the warehouse and clear out some thugs that had been harassing the families on the far side of the river and stealing the money from their already scarce coffers. And with the king increasing rents for the third time this year... if these thugs kept stealing from the cityfolk they'd be starving before the month was out.

What I hadn't expected was to get jumped - literally - and hit over the head from above.

Yeah, someone literally jumped from a roof and landed on me. Whether it was on purpose or accidental there was no telling but all I knew was it hurt like hell and then it was lights out.

Villain POV:

I was enjoying a rather lovely stroll after dealing with some unrest in my territory when I came across a crumpled figure on the sidewalk. I was about to turn down the opposite street and retreat to the nearby gardens when a faint groan came from the figure and a familiar sensation washed over me.

No, surely it couldn't -

"You're such a complete disaster," I groaned, scooping the unconscious little hero off the sidewalk. "Like, holy hell, how does anyone let you out of their sight? Stop picking fights with people you aren't ready for."

She groaned again and her eyes fluttered open. "It wasn't a fight this time," she mumbled, her eyes closing again. "-ust bad luck."

"Uh huh. Bad luck, bad timing, bad judgement - for a hero you're sure bad at a lot of things." I snorted, trying to ignore the warmth that leeched from her into me, as if her light could fill my veins and my chest and restart the rock that resided there.

"If I wasn't so bad at all this I'd rob you of your dashing rescues. Who's the hero now," she grumbled, barely conscious. I knew I needed to keep her talking and awake, check for a concussion.

"Careful, or I'll leave you in the gutter where I found you." I tsked at her, trying to rile her awake a bit more. She could never resist banter in our clashes in the past, it was one of her less known weaknesses.

"No, you won't," she smiled faintly then and if I did still have a heart it may have flown from my chest.

This magical little halfling was carrying a dangerous kind of magic, I reminded myself as I held her just a bit further from my chest. Best not to risk bursting into flames and having us both go up in an inferno because she accidentally glowed too brightly.

I shook my head in exasperation. "You're a mess," I murmured as a breeze wafted down the alley and her hair fluttered around and tickled my nose, carrying with it the scent of her - daylight, moon orchids, and fresh water breezes all came to mind but none could quite capture her.

"Apparently I'm your mess." She grumbled, definitely more awake now than she had been. We were at the crossroads that would lead back to her side of the river, where her light and magic were treasured and valued. She'd be fine to walk the rest of the way home, if she so desired.

"Be that as it may, I'm not always going to be around when you get into trouble. We may have mutual territory in the city we fight over, but leave this side of the river alone. Trust me. Everyone here would rather snuff out your light than accept any help you try and offer them."

"It almost sounds like you're worried for me. Has that frozen heart of yours grown soft after all these years?" She teased and roused herself more. I stopped my walking and set her down on her feet, waiting a few extra moments before I released her from my grip. The absence of her warmth was a physical vacuum around me and I worked my damnedest to bury any sign of my confusion as she got her bearings and realized where she was.

"We got here so fast. It took me nearly fifteen minutes to get to that part of your territory." She admitted as she looked around.

"Long legs," I lied to ease any discomfort she may feel. We got here fast because I'd been too preoccupied with holding her in my arms and listening to her breathing and keeping her awake to keep my speed at a more normal pace.

"Well, thank you, again, for getting me out of there." She scratched the back of her head out of nervousness then winced and it was only the decades I'd dedicated to self control that kept me rooted in place several feet away from her. My instincts all screamed at me to scoop her back into my arms and whisk her back to my home and never let her leave again but I knew that was wrong. Beyond wrong. Especially for someone so filled with life.

"Don't mention it." Was the only reply that felt safe to give. Cold. Detached. Unbothered.

She gave a little half chuckle half huff and turned and started walking across the bridge. She was nearly halfway across when she turned and said, "You know, this is going to make whatever your next dastardly deed is a lot more awkward, now that I know there's so much good in you." She then flashed me a dazzling - and I mean a sun flare hitting my very soul kind of dazzling - smile, then disappeared on the other side of the bridge.

I turned only when she was truly out of my sight and in the safety of the dome and walked back home, ignoring the instincts that screamed at me to run after her and break all the treaties just to walk her to her door.

Absurd sentimentality. The lingering effects from her magic and inner light, no doubt.

“You’re such a complete disaster.” groans the villain, scooping the unconscious hero off the sidewalk “Like, holy hell, how does anyone let you out of their sight. Stop picking fights with people you aren’t ready for.”

[animamii]

part trois of Toji's Valentine Suprise

contains smuttttt c;

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"You wearin' that anklet I gotcha?" Toji asks, spread out on the recliner. It's only been a few hours since this little impromptu reunion (aka him actually somehow breaking out of prison to see you). You sit on the loveseat, knees bent as your back rests on the arm. Looking like a disheveled mess, hair all sex ruffled, silk slip hanging off of one shoulder. Lips all plump and swollen, glossy and red. Fuckin' perfect in Toji's eyes.

"Uh huh," you stick your pedicured foot out, golden anklet dangling, the little 'TF' written in old english font making a light sound as it softly sways.

"Looks pretty on ya, knew that gold would complement your skin," he hums, grabbing your foot and kissing the top, eyes locked on yours. Your breath hitches for a quick second, you always got so enamored with Toji after he fucks you good. Still in your sex daze, your hands bunch the fabric of the silk slip, somehow growing needy again. Toji continues to look at the anklet, your foot in his grip. "White toes too? My favorite." His thumb brushes the gel polish before he kisses the tips of your toes. But oh, he doesn't stop there.

His scarred lip curls into mischievous smile as he opens his mouth, lips wrapping around a few of your toes. a soft gasp leaves your mouth, and you clutch onto your dress even tighter. Toji's gaze is intense, burning into yours, and you can't help but be drawn in by his raw, unadulterated desire. Your heart races as Toji's mouth closes around your toes, the sensation both strange and exhilarating. You can't help but arch your back slightly, a soft moan escaping your lips.

A deep, satisfied groan rumbles from Toji’s chest as he sucks lightly on your toes, his tongue flicking against the pads before he pulls back with a wet pop. His grip tightens around your ankle, holding you in place as he smirks up at you, watching the way your thighs press together, your lip caught between your teeth.

"What?" His voice is low, teasing. "Too much?" You shake your head, swallowing hard, but your breath is uneven, your body already responding. His thumb strokes over your ankle, grazing the delicate chain, and his smirk widens. "Yeah, that’s what I thought."

Slowly, he drags his lips along the curve of your foot, kissing up your ankle, your shin, taking his sweet time as he watches you squirm. You hate how easily he gets to you, how even the softest touch makes heat pool low in your belly. He knows exactly what he’s doing—knows how to wind you up, how to keep you right on the edge. It pisses you off, really.

You exhale shakily. "You’re so—"

"So what?" Toji murmurs, pressing a kiss to your knee before running his hands up your thighs, spreading them just slightly as he inches closer. "Good to you? Thought you knew that already, baby." He chuckles as he makes that oh so true assumption.

Your nails dig into the fabric of your slip, anticipation making your heart pound against your ribs. "You’re ridiculous," you mutter, cheeks burning red.

Toji chuckles, dark and low, as his hands slide higher. "And yet you still let me do whatever I want with you." His lips ghost over your inner thigh, his breath warm against your sensitive skin. "Ain’t that right?" You bite your lip, nodding without thinking.

"Good girl." His voice is pure satisfaction before he pulls you closer, eyes gleaming with something wicked. "Now, lemme really show you how much I missed you."

Toji’s hands grip your thighs, thumbs rubbing slow, lazy circles into your skin. He’s settled between your legs now, still lounging back like he’s got all the time in the world, like he didn’t just break out of prison to see you. The smug bastard knows exactly what he’s doing, keeping his touch featherlight, dragging out the moment until you’re squirming beneath his gaze.

"T-Toji—" Your breath catches as he kisses the inside of your thigh, lips soft against your overheated skin. He knows just where to kiss, which spots are the most sensitive. Where his open mouthed kisses should be placed precisely that will make you whimper.

"Mm?" He hums, acting like he doesn’t notice the way your fingers twitch against the silk of your slip, gripping the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping you sane. "What’s wrong, baby? You gettin’ needy on me again?" You glare at him, but it’s weak, and he knows it.

Toji grins, his scarred lip curling up as he presses another kiss, a little higher this time. "Didn’t I just take care of you, huh? Thought that’d be enough to hold you over, but look at you." His hands squeeze your plush thighs, making heat pool in your stomach. "Lookin’ all pretty and desperate again."

You hate how much his teasing affects you, how easily he has you melting under his touch, wrapped around his finger. "You’re so—"

"So good to you?" He finishes for you once again like he wants you to say it, grinning when you huff out a frustrated breath. "Yeah, I know, baby. Ain’t my fault you got no self control when it comes to me."

You open your mouth to argue, but the second you do, his hands tighten, and he pulls you forward, dragging you to the edge of the loveseat with a yelp. Before you can protest, he tugs your legs over his shoulders, his smirk widening as you gasp.

"Relax," he murmurs, thumbs stroking the inside of your thighs. "I got you, baby. I always got you, right?"

Your heart pounds as his mouth gets closer, his breath hot against your skin. "Toji—"

"Shh," he soothes, pressing a lingering kiss over the anklet, right where his initials rest against your skin. "Gonna take my time with you, princess."

Toji’s grip is firm as he spreads your thighs wider, his hands rough against your soft skin. His breath fans over your already soaked panties, making your stomach clench in anticipation. He watches you, dark eyes gleaming, eating up every little twitch, every shaky breath you take. Ohhh how he missed this. How he missed you.

"Fuck, baby." His thumb brushes over the damp fabric, feeling the heat radiating from you. Pulling his thumb back, it's sticky with your arousal, which he licks off with a swipe of his tongue. "You're drippin’ already? Thought you said I was ridiculous—but look at you." He tuts, pressing a teasing kiss right where you need him most, making your hips jerk. Fuckin' tease. "You miss me that bad?"

"Toji—" Your voice is almost a whine, hands gripping the arm of the loveseat like it’ll stop the way your body responds to him so easily. But it’s useless. You always fall apart for him.

He chuckles, low and dark, fingers hooking into the thin fabric of your panties before tugging them down slowly, deliberately, letting the cool air graze over your bare skin. He groans at the sight of you, licking his lips. "Shit, baby. Prettiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen."

Before you can respond, his mouth is on you. A sharp gasp rips from your lips as his tongue flicks over your clit, slow at first, teasing, just to watch you squirm. But Toji’s never been a patient man, and he wants you to come undone. His tongue moves expertly, with a distinct precision because he always knows exactly what he's doing, switching between broad strokes and tight circles, sucking at just the right moments. He knows your body best, knows just what to do to make you unravel. The obscene sounds of his mouth working against you only make it worse—make you needier.

"Fuck, Toji—" You arch, hands flying to his hair, fingers tangling in his dark strands, tugging. He groans at that, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure straight through you. Your sweet as candy voice always made him melt, made his heartstrings tug.

"That’s it, baby," he rasps between licks, voice dripping with satisfaction. "Pull my hair, ride my fuckin’ face. I want you to. I know you want to too."

You don’t need to be told twice. Your hips move on their own, grinding against his tongue as he groans, eating you like a starved man. His hands grip your thighs tighter, keeping you exactly where he wants you, dragging you even closer, like he can’t get enough. Guiding your hips, helping you fuck his face.

"T-Toji, I—" You feel the pressure building, that tight coil in your stomach about to snap. He knows it, too. He can feel it in the way your thighs shake, in the way your fingers grip his hair even tighter. Your heel digs into his back, forcing his face into your coochie, basically having him in a headlock.

"C’mon, baby," he coaxes, voice rough with his own need. "Gimme what I want. Let me taste you."

It’s the filthy desperation in his voice that sends you over the edge. Your body tenses before shattering, pleasure rolling through you in waves as Toji keeps going, licking and sucking you through it, groaning against you as he drinks it all in. When you finally go limp, breathless and trembling, he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, chin glistening with your slickness, smirking like he just won the fucking lottery.

"Told you, baby," he murmurs, pressing one last kiss to your overstimulated clit, making you whimper, your hips bucking. "I always take care of what’s mine."

Toji’s fingers trail over your trembling thighs, lazy and possessive, as you struggle to catch your breath. He’s still between your legs, lips glistening, gaze locked onto you like he’s debating whether to ruin you all over again. But his eyes drop lower—to your ankle, where that delicate gold chain rests against your skin, his initials catching in the dim light.

A slow, satisfied smirk spreads across his lips. "Knew that anklet would look good on you," he murmurs, fingers tracing over it, letting the tiny ‘TF’ pendant sway against your skin. "Y’know why I got this for you, huh doll?"

You swallow hard, body still buzzing from your orgasm, but Toji doesn’t like being ignored. His fingers slide up your calf, grip tightening just enough to make you focus.

"I asked you a question, princess."

"Toji..." Your voice is soft, breathless, and he loves it.

"C’mon," he coaxes, tilting his head, fingers playing with the charm. "Why do you think I put my name right there? Hmm?" His thumb presses against the anklet, dragging over your skin. Even an innocent touch like that has you tingling in all the right places, Like anything he does to you gives you that pleasure. "Right on this pretty lil’ ankle? You know what it means, don’tcha?"

Butterflies form inside your stomach at the implication, heat rushing through your veins. He watches the realization dawn on your face, the way you shift beneath his intense gaze, biting your lip.

"Say it," he urges, voice dipping into something darker, hungrier. You hesitate, and that will not do.

With a deep chuckle, Toji moves fast—grabbing your ankle, lifting your leg up over his shoulder, your body stretched out beneath him. His free hand slides up your thigh, his grip firm, possessive. The weight of him, the heat of him, makes your head spin.

"This lil’ thing?" He flicks the charm, letting it dangle. "It means you’re mine, baby. My girl. My name right here, sittin’ pretty on your ankle—so everyone knows exactly who the fuck you belong to."

You shudder, something needy stirring deep inside you. Toji always had a way of branding you without even trying. His touch, his voice, the way he owned every piece of you without question.

"You like that, huh?" His smirk widens as he leans in, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses up your calf, stopping right where the anklet rests. "Bet you think about me every time you see it. Every time you feel it brush against your skin." He kisses the charm, tongue flicking against the cool metal before his teeth scrape over it. Your breath stutters.

"T-Toji—"

"Mmm, that’s right, baby," he groans against your skin, his grip tightening. "Go on, say it. Say who you belong to."

You hesitate, brain still hazy, but then he bites just below your anklet, just enough to make you gasp—just enough to send a shock of pleasure straight to your core.

"Toji—fuck! I—"

"Yeah, you do, baby," he rasps, hot and breathy against your skin. "Say it."

Your nails dig into the cushions, your body on fire, already craving more. "I’m yours, Toji."

He lets out a dark, satisfied chuckle, teeth grazing your ankle one last time before he shifts, pressing you deeper into the loveseat, his weight heavy, suffocating in the best way.

"Damn right you are," he mutters, lips trailing down your neck, hands spreading your thighs again as he fits himself in the gap. "And now I’m gonna make sure you never forget it."

With two fingers he grabs the leftover slickness that was still coating your sex, and he uses it to lube up his cock like the sick man he is. You didn't even notice that he had pulled it out, only seeing as he pumps himself a few times. With a little plaat! he slaps your clit with his heavy length, making you jolt, your puffy clit still trying to recover from the overstimulation.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, watching the way you react to him. "So fuckin’ sensitive for me. You want it, huh?" His cock drags through your folds, the thick head nudging your entrance, teasing. "Say it."

Your breath hitches, hands gripping at his arms, nails digging into the muscle. "I want it, Toji. Please."

His smirk deepens, enjoying the desperation in your voice. "That’s my good girl." And with one slow, deliberate roll of his hips, he sinks into you, stretching you open inch by inch, making sure you feel every bit of him.

A strangled moan rips from your throat as he bottoms out, your walls fluttering around him. "Shit, baby. Always so tight for me," he grits out, eyes locked onto yours, watching the way your face contorts with pleasure.

He stills for a second, letting you adjust, but the way your body clenches around him has his control hanging by a thread. "You okay, princess?"

You nod frantically, fingers digging into his biceps. "Move, Toji. Please." Even through your hazy overstimulation, you were still such a needy needy girl for him.

That’s all he needs. His hips pull back before slamming forward, setting a deep, brutal pace that has your back arching off the loveseat. Each thrust pushes you further into the cushions, the force of it making your anklet jingle softly, like a taunting reminder of who you belong to.

"Listen to that," he rasps, his hand gripping your ankle again, lifting your leg higher. "That sound, baby—know what it means? Means I own this fuckin’ pussy." He looks at the anklet that is now next to his head, he smirks, "And this means I own you. Told ya this would be dangling over my shoulder soon." He flicks the charm in a cocky almost patronizing way, letting it sway back and forth, back and forth.

Your moans come faster, broken, desperate, and Toji eats it up, his pace only growing rougher. "Fuck, you take me so good," he groans, watching the way your body welcomes him, your slick coating his cock, making it easier for him to drive deeper. "No one else can have you like this. Only me. Say it."

"Only you, Toji!" You cry out, body trembling, nails raking down his back. Bottom lip jutted out, the cutest of needy pouts on your face. It makes Toji smile for a second, not smirk but smile. Even so fucked out you looked so cute. But then the way your walls squeeze around his thickness makes him go feral once more.

"That’s right, baby," he growls, leaning down, his lips ghosting over yours. "Mine. No matter what, no matter where I'm at. It's only mine." Your stomach clenches at his words, the possessiveness in his voice making your head spin. You barely manage a nod, overwhelmed by the way he’s filling you, owning you completely.

His lips crash into yours, swallowing your whimpers as he thrusts into you with deep, deliberate strokes. His grip on your ankle tightens, pressing it against his shoulder, the anklet dangling right beside his cheek, swinging in time with each snap of his hips. Toji groans, burying himself deeper, his cock dragging along that spot that has your toes curling. This turns you into a babbling, moaning mess. Toji can't help but let out a moaned-out chuckle, proud of your undoing that he caused.

His pace is ruthless now, hands gripping your hips, pulling you into every thrust. The room is filled with the sound of skin slapping, your breathy moans mixing with his low, guttural groans. The pressure in your core builds, unbearable, white-hot pleasure creeping up your spine.

"T-Toji—fuck, I—"

"I got you, baby," he grits out, sweat dripping down his temples as he keeps driving into you. "Let go. Show me who this pussy belongs to."

His fingers drop to your clit, rubbing tight, skilled circles, and that’s it—you shatter, pleasure ripping through you as you cry out his name, your body locking up before trembling beneath him.

Toji watches in awe—in that loving adoration he always does, drinking in the way your walls grip him—the way they flutter, your face twisted in pleasure—the pretty way your brow furrows and the way your eyes are glossy and glazed over, your anklet still swaying with every movement,. "Fuck, baby—gonna cum—"

He barely pulls out in time, pumping his thick length, ropes of hot cum spilling onto your stomach, your thighs. He groans your name, breath ragged, before collapsing against you, body heavy and warm.

For a moment, neither of you speak, just panting in the aftermath, bodies still buzzing. Then, Toji lifts his head, eyes flicking down to the mess he’s made of you—of your trembling thighs, the slick between them, the way his initials on that anklet stand out against your flushed skin.

A slow, satisfied smirk stretches across his lips. "Told you, baby." His fingers brush over the chain, still admiring his claim on you. "Looks even better when it’s right where it belongs."

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

like the doctor ordered c; @livv-in-color

tags ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ @psoycy @yourname-exee @fandomsearcherforcuntymen @universallydepressed13 @cheolliehugs @xinarii @blendingcaramal @k-a-m232 @stainednailpolishremover

[d0rianw1lde]

Pre-S4 Eddie who’s completely unaware of the true events of the Starcourt mall.

Pre-S4 Eddie who has to make sure that his eyes aren’t deceiving him- that Steve Harrington is actually in the back of his shitty van, cash in hand, waiting for Eddie to pick his jaw up off of the floor and give him the damn weed he’s trying to pay for.

“Sorry- not every day you uh..” Eddie starts.

“..See your high school bully ask you for weed?”

“What? No. No, those are my biggest buyers.” Eddie snorts, and hands over the baggy. Steve goes to hand him the money, and Eddie counts it, giving back half. Steve stares at him quizzically. “Consider it a first-buy deal.” Eddie explains, and Steve shrugs, unamused.

“You mind if I..” Steve grumbles, and Eddie puts his hands up.

“Be my guest. That’s a best-seller. Purple Palm Tree Delight. It’ll have you in another dimension.” Eddie grins, but Steve cringes slightly. He looks to Eddie, who, with slender, ringed fingers, beckons for the baggy back. “C’mon, let me roll it for ya. You look..beat, man. Heard scoops went up in flames.” Eddie lets out a low whistle- if only he knew.

Steve doesn’t answer. He just waits patiently for Eddie to hand him the little joint, offering him a light. Steve places the joint between his lips, and leans forward, allowing the flame to light the tip of the joint. He anticipates the feeling he knows all too well- the calming feeling. The beautiful, floating feeling that had allowed him to drift away from his parents fighting, from his tanking grades, from his girlfriend declaring their love bullshit. And that first drag in feels like bliss…it feels like drifting..It feels like..

Falling. Like spiraling.

Had Eddie’s van always been so small? So suffocating? Steve allows the smoke to leave his lungs, and Eddie leans back. Grinning and reaching out for the joint.

“So..What do you do now?”

“What?” Steve’s mind is racing- this isn’t bliss. This isn’t mellowness. God, why is Eddie’s van so goddamn small? Have the sleeves of his jacket always been so

So tight? Around his wrists?

The tacky lights in Eddie’s van shine brighter- they feel blinding.

“Just asking you where you work now.”

Where he works.

Who he works for.

“Scoops..” Steve mutters, but his voice is far away. Eddie plucks the joint from Steve’s fingers.

“What?” Eddie asks, taking a drag from the joint.

Steve’s mouth is dry.

He reaches out, places a hand on Steve’s shoulder, but the angle is awkward, and his fingers brush-

His fingers brush his neck.

The spot.

It burns. Steve swears it burns the same it did.

God, Eddie’s music is so obnoxious-

Or was it Robin’s screams?

Where even was he? He stares at the door at the back of Eddie’s truck. He crawls toward it, and fumbles helplessly with the handle.

“Hey- Steve? It’s uh- It’s just Indica, man-“

“Gotta- Get out. let me-“ Steve’s hands are trembling- his vision is blurring- is it the drugs? His tears? Was this dying? Had he ever left that dark room? That sterile metal box?

Eddie tries to lean over to open the door, but Steve’s frantic movements leave him blocked off completely. He crawls into the front quickly, and hops out of the van, running to the back to open the door up.

And Steve nearly falls out of the back- if it hadn’t been for Eddie scrambling to break Steve’s fall, he would’ve ended up with a mouth full of dirt. And judging by the ragged breaths leaving Steve’s lips, and the unintelligible ramblings tumbling from his lips, that was the last thing he needed.

Eddie was no stranger to a bad high. No stranger to coaxing his customers out of a panic when they first tried a bit of weed- but this?

If only he knew.

Pre S4 Eddie who’s completely unaware of the true events of Starcourt.

Pre S4 Eddie clutching Steve Harrington’s face, telling him he’s safe. That he’s at Lover’s Lake. That he’s just having a bad high.

Pre S4 Eddie holding the King of Hawkins High in his arms as he shrivels into a broken mess of sobs, and apologies that echo against the silent trees of Lover’s Lake.

[honeyncherry]

everything i never asked for - joe burrow

summary valentine’s day with joe

content fluff fluff fluff

You didn’t expect much for Valentine’s Day this year. The past couple of months had been rough, between everything that happened and Joe’s whirlwind schedule with the Pro Bowl, Honors, and the Super Bowl. You figured today would be low-key. Maybe just a lazy morning, a home-cooked meal, and some much needed rest.

And that was exactly how the day started.

You wake up to slow, warm kisses along your shoulder, Joe's voice still rough from sleep as he murmurs, “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby.” He pulls you closer, his arm heavy around your waist, and for a while, you stayed tangled in the covers, soaking in the rare, quiet stillness.

By late morning, he’s in the kitchen making breakfast (if you can even call it that). He’s in a pair of grey sweats that hang low on his hips, hair still messy, leaning against the counter with a smug look as you do most of the work.

He claims he’s helping, but really, he’s just standing behind you, arms wrapped around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder, sneaking bites of the pancakes you’re making.

Later in the afternoon, your phone buzzes. A friend asks if you want to meet up for a little Galentine’s date. You hesitate, glancing at Joe, but before you can even consider turning it down, he nudges you.

"Go."

"No—"

"Seriously, go. You deserve a break from me," he jokes, smirking as he stretches out on the couch. "Besides, I promise I won’t waste away in your absence."

You narrow your eyes at him, sensing he’s up to something, but he looks completely unbothered. Eventually, you give in, grab your things, and head out.

The afternoon is easy, spent catching up and laughing, but a small part of you keeps thinking about Joe. How effortless the morning felt. How rare it is for him to have time to just be.

When you finally return home, you’re not expecting much, maybe him still sprawled on the couch, half-asleep. But the second you step inside, you realize something is different.

The lights are dim. Candles flicker along the dining table, casting a soft, golden glow across the room. The smell of something savory lingers in the air, and standing in the middle of it all is Joe. He’s changed into something nicer, sleeves pushed up to reveal his forearms as he finishes setting the table, looking both ridiculously proud of himself and a little nervous.

"What is this?" you ask, blinking at the setup.

"A proper Valentine’s Day," he says, wiping his hands on a dish towel before making his way over to you. "Figured you deserved at least one romantic surprise today."

The table is set with the fine china set you two received as a housewarming gift. A homemade meal is waiting, something he clearly put effort into, even if a few little mishaps, like the slightly burnt garlic bread, give away his struggles. A bottle of wine is already open, two glasses waiting.

And then, as if that wasn’t enough, he tugs you into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, fingers rubbing gentle circles into your back as he whispers, “Missed you today.”

The evening flows effortlessly, filled with laughter, teasing, and Joe dramatically complaining about “how hard cooking is” as he watches you take your first bite. He studies your reaction like it determines his entire fate, waiting for your verdict. You hum thoughtfully, dragging it out just to mess with him before finally breaking into a smile.

"It’s actually really good, Joe."

"You’re lying."

"No, I swear! Well… except maybe the garlic bread."

"Knew you were gonna say that."

You’re both grinning. He reaches across the table, fingers brushing over yours and his voice softer as he says, "I know things have been a lot recently."

He pauses, thumb grazing over your knuckles before meeting your eyes again. "I just wanted today to be about you. You deserve that."

Somehow, that means more to you than any grand gesture ever could.

After dinner, you both end up curled on the couch, his arm draped over your shoulders as some random movie plays in the background. You’re not really paying attention, just floating on the high of the day, tucked against his side, his fingers tracing lazy patterns over your arm.

Then, without warning, Joe suddenly untangles himself from you and disappears into the kitchen. You barely have time to question it before he’s back, a small bakery box in his hands, looking far too pleased with himself.

"Chocolate cake?" you ask, already smiling as he flips the lid open to reveal two thick slices of rich, decadent cake from your favorite bakery.

"Went out earlier and got it while you were gone," he says, settling back beside you. He grabs a fork, slicing off a bite before holding it up to your lips with an expectant look. "I’ll share. If you’re nice."

You roll your eyes but take the bite, humming in satisfaction as the sweetness melts on your tongue. It’s perfect, exactly how you like it. But before you can even reach for your own fork, Joe steals another bite, straight from your slice, grinning like he’s getting away with something.

"Joe!"

"What?" he says around a mouthful of cake, not even remotely guilty.

You huff, reaching for the box, but he shifts just out of reach, holding the fork and the cake hostage. It turns into a game, him dodging your attempts to take control of the dessert, laughter bubbling between you, the weight of the last few months feeling lighter than it has in a long time. Eventually he relents, letting you have your share, though not without sneaking a few extra bites when he thinks you’re too distracted.

By the time the cake is gone, Joe shifts slightly, adjusting so you’re tucked even closer. His fingers mindlessly trace over your knuckles where your hand rests against his chest, the warmth of his body easing you into a quiet, content haze.

You let out a sigh, fingertips grazing over his arm. "Thank you for today." His lips brush across your forehead, then your cheek, before finally pressing a tender kiss to your lips — his own silent way of saying you’re welcome.

The movie plays on, just background noise now, filling the quiet between your slowed breaths. His thumb moves absentmindedly over your wrist, a quiet, familiar touch that still makes your heart flutter after all this time.

Just when you think he might be drifting off, Joe presses another kiss to the top of your head, lingering for a second longer than necessary.

"This was nice."

You smile against his shirt, barely lifting your head. "Yeah?"

He hums in response, his chest rising and falling beneath your palm. "Yeah. Just us. Feels good."

There’s something unspoken in the way he says it, in the way his hold tightens around you, like he needed today just as much as you did. Maybe more.

You don’t say anything back. You don’t need to. Instead, you let your fingers lace through his, soaking in the kind of serenity that can only be found in moments like this.

As the candlelight flickers, casting golden warmth over the both of you, you realize that maybe you hadn’t expected much for Valentine’s Day. You hadn’t asked for anything, hadn’t wished for anything elaborate.

But Joe?

He’s always there, giving you more than you ever thought to ask for.

[p0orbaby]

Cute Valentine’s Day blurb with leah attempting to make reader breakfast in bed? <3

i wrote this 20 mins. currently getting ready for a wedding (not mine), how apt

-

It starts with a noise. A crash, followed by a muttered curse that’s definitely not part of your usual morning soundtrack.

You blink awake, the room still dim with early light, and roll over to find Leah’s side of the bed empty. Suspicious.

Then another noise. A clatter, the unmistakable sound of something metal hitting the floor. Possibly a pan. Possibly Leah herself.

You rub your eyes, suppressing a sigh, and push yourself up. Your suspicions are confirmed when you catch the faint, distinctly worrying scent of something… burning?

Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you shuffle toward the kitchen, bracing yourself for whatever disaster awaits.

And there she is. Your wife. Your brilliant, talented, entirely useless-in-the-kitchen wife.

Leah stands by the stove, hair a mess, wearing her Arsenal training hoodie and a look of pure, wide-eyed panic. There’s flour on her hands. Flour. For reasons unknown, because you’re fairly sure flour is not required for whatever she’s attempting.

She notices you immediately, eyes snapping up like she’s been caught committing a crime. “Go back to bed,” she orders, waving a wooden spoon at you like some kind of medieval weapon.

You fold your arms, tilting your head. “Why is there flour everywhere?”

“I don’t know,” she admits, looking genuinely distressed. “I just thought it made sense.”

You glance at the counter. There’s a half-assembled plate of toast, a pan of slightly charred eggs, and what looks like an attempt at pancakes. You squint. “Are those—”

“Don’t say it,” she warns, turning back to the stove like she can salvage this. She cannot.

You step closer, peering over her shoulder. “Leah, that pancake is black.”

“It’s caramelised,” she argues, using the kind of confident tone she reserves for post-match interviews.

“It’s burnt.”

She lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing her forehead with her wrist. “I just wanted to do something nice, you know?”

Your heart softens immediately. This is Leah. All bravado and confidence, but underneath it, always so full of love. You wrap your arms around her from behind, pressing a soft kiss to the side of her neck.

“You are doing something nice,” you murmur. “Just… badly.”

She groans, letting her head fall back against your shoulder. “You could at least pretend to be impressed.”

“I am impressed,” you tease. “Not by the food, but definitely by the effort.”

She huffs, turning in your arms so you’re face to face. “This isn’t going how I planned.”

“Well,” you say, reaching over to steal a piece of toast from the plate, “lucky for you, I’m a big fan of toast.”

Leah watches as you take a bite, waiting for your reaction. It’s… crunchy. A little on the dry side. But edible.

She raises an eyebrow. “Well?”

You chew thoughtfully, then nod. “Not bad.”

“Liar.”

You grin, swallowing before pressing a quick kiss to her lips. “Seriously, babe. Best Valentine’s breakfast I’ve ever had.”

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t protest when you kiss her again. Then she sighs, glancing at the chaos behind her. “Right. We’re ordering croissants, aren’t we?”

You nod, already reaching for your phone. “One hundred percent.”

[ducktoo]

Again

IVE’s Jang Wonyoung x M!Reader

Note: I have resorted to the sacred prompt list by Anon again….this helped me so much frrr. Hope you will post your first ever fic here so I can tagged you!!

This concludes the unofficial (or official ig) IZ*ONE marathon. @hyeyulenjoyer hope this was a fun ride for you. And thank you everyone for enjoying these fics as well! Also appreciate IVE for paying respect to the recent tragedy. All the dumb haters who find ways to hate them again....just touch grass pls.

(this was the perfect picture for this fic lol)

The tickets sit on your desk, undisturbed, their glossy surface catching the dim glow of your bedside lamp. You don’t even need to read the text printed on them anymore. The details are already burned into your brain.

A fan sign.

It was supposed to be special. The kind of thing you looked forward to for weeks, marked on your calendar with a little star. You were supposed to show up, tease her about messing up choreography, make her laugh in the middle of a serious performance, see that look in her eyes that was just for you.

Now, the tickets feel like a joke.

Your phone is face-down beside them, dark screen hiding the messages you haven't opened yet—the well-meaning texts from friends, the casual work notifications. All messages except from her.

Wonyoung.

You close your eyes, but it doesn't help. The memory of your last call with her is still fresh, the words playing over and over like a song stuck on repeat.

"I just don’t have time for this anymore."

"For us, you mean?"

"Mhm."

The way she said it—calm, measured, like it was just another item to tick off on her to-do list—had made something inside you crack. There had been no anger in her voice. No hesitation.

That…hurt more than anything.

You had wanted to say something, anything to make her stop. To remind her of the nights spent whispering over the phone until she fell asleep, of the rare moments when she let herself be vulnerable with you, of the way she would light up the second she saw you waiting for her backstage to take her to eat a whole cow together.

But you couldn't mutter a voice.

You had just sat there, phone pressed to your ear, fingers gripping the fabric of your hoodie so tightly it threatened to tear.

And then, just like that, she was gone.

It was three days ago.

Three days of checking your phone too often. Three days of convincing yourself you were fine. Three days of staring at these damn tickets on the desk and trying to figure out why you hadn’t just thrown them away. You should sell them. Give them to someone who’d actually enjoy them.

But something stops you.

Maybe it’s pride. Maybe it’s stubbornness. Maybe it’s the stupid, lingering part of you that refuses to admit that she’s really gone. Whatever the reason, you find yourself gripping them tighter instead of throwing them away.

You decided that you will go.

Not for her. Not to see her.

Just so you don’t have to sit in this room, drowning in thoughts of what used to be.

That’s what you tell yourself, anyway.

-

The venue is packed.

Fans shuffle forward in line, their chatter buzzing in the air like static. Excited whispers, rustling light sticks, the occasional squeal when a favourite member’s name is mentioned.

Your fingers tighten around the album in your hands. (Ironically you still hold onto her album)

This is normal for them. For the fans around you, this is just another fan sign. A chance to meet their idols, to share fleeting moments, to walk away with a signature and a memory they’ll cherish for years.

You should feel the same. Instead, you’re just… tired. Who could blame you, you’re about to come face-to-face with your ex-girlfriend.

And she has no idea you’re here.

Your grip on the album tightens as the line inches forward. The first few members greet you with polite smiles, their voices light and bubbly. You do your best to respond normally, but your mind is elsewhere, trapped in the inevitable moment that keeps creeping closer and closer.

You don’t need to look up to know she’s at the end of the table. You can feel her presence.

And then, suddenly, there’s no more time left.

Your album slides across the table. Long, slender fingers stop it in place.

There’s a small pause—so brief that no one else seems to notice—but you do. You feel it in the slight delay before she looks up, in the way her fingers tighten just a fraction around the album’s edge.

And then her eyes meet yours.

She looks the same. Flawless, as always. Every strand of hair perfectly in place, makeup soft and ethereal under the bright overhead lights. And those sparkly eyes that you often got lost in.

But…she’s not yours anymore. Not at all.

There was a flicker of something—recognition, surprise, something deeper—crosses her face. But it’s gone in an instant, replaced by a carefully neutral expression.

Her lips part slightly, but no words come out at first. Then…

“Hey.”

It’s awkward. Too awkward. You can feel the tension hanging between you, thick and suffocating.

You swallow, trying to ignore the way your chest tightens. “Hey.”

For a split second, she looks like she wants to say something else. Like she wants to break the script, ignore the rehearsed greetings and practiced smiles.

But then—

She doesn’t.

Instead, she picks up her pen, the mask slipping back into place. Her expression evens out, and in a voice so perfectly professional it almost stings, she says,

“Thanks for coming.”

Just like she would to any other fan. That made your stomach twists.

You should’ve known. Of course, she wouldn't acknowledge it. Not here. Not in front of all these people.

Still, it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “Yeah. Would’ve been a waste of money if I didn’t.”

Something flickers across her face, but it’s gone before you can catch it. She presses her lips together, nodding slightly. “Right. Can’t have that.”

She signs her name, her handwriting as neat and practiced as always. But there’s a hesitance in the way she moves, a slight delay before she lifts the pen from the page.

When she finally pushes the album back toward you, her fingers linger just a second longer than necessary.

Then, in a voice so quiet that only you can hear…

“Take care, okay?”

She’s looking at you now. Really looking at you.

And for a moment, just one fleeting moment, she’s not the Jang Wonyoung, the IT girl, the global superstar.

She’s just…Wonyoung.

The girl who used to call you late at night just to hear your voice.

The girl who used to lace her fingers through yours under the table when no one was looking.

The girl who told you she didn’t have time for you anymore.

You stare at her.

The words stick to your throat. You genuinely don’t trust yourself to say anything.

So you just…don’t.

You just take the album, stand up, and walk away. And even as you disappear into the crowd, you can still feel her eyes on you.

-

You’ve been doing fine.

Or at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

It’s been a few days since the fan sign, and you’ve buried yourself in anything that keeps your mind occupied—work, games, mindless scrolling through your phone. Anything to keep yourself from replaying the look on Wonyoung’s face at the fansign. From remembering the way she hesitated before handing your album back. From thinking about the way her gaze kept flickering toward you as you walk away, as if she was looking for something.

Or someone.

But that’s not your problem anymore. You told yourself that the moment you left the venue.

Which is why, when your phone starts ringing at an ungodly hour, you almost don’t check the caller ID. Almost.

The second you see her name flashing on the screen, your stomach twists.

Jang Wonyoung.

The ringing continues, each second stretching unbearably. You should let it go. Turn off your phone. Pretend you never saw it.

But you don’t. Because deep down, you know you still want to hear her voice. So you answer.

“...Hello?”

There’s silence on the other end for a moment, followed by a soft giggle—breathy and drawn out, the kind that used to slip past her lips whenever she was feeling particularly affectionate.

"Dummmyy!" she hums, stretching your nickname like it’s some sweet, familiar melody.

“Wonyo. Are you drunk?” You sigh, ignoring the way your nickname for her easily rolled out of your tongue.

She giggles again, the sound loose and unguarded. "Mmm… maybe."

"Goddamn it." You rub your temples. "Where are you?"

A rustling noise filters through the receiver, followed by the distant hum of traffic. "Somewhere," she mumbles. "Some bar, I think. The girls took me out."

Figures.

You shift in bed, propping yourself up against the headboard. “It’s late.”

“I know,” she says, not sounding the least bit apologetic. “But I wanted to call you.”

You close your eyes, exhaling through your nose. “Why?”

She doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, there’s a soft exhale, the kind she lets out when she’s gathering her thoughts. Then, quieter…

“Because I miss you.”

Your fingers tighten around the phone.

"Don’t do that," you say quietly.

"Do what?"

"Say things you don’t mean."

Another pause. When she speaks again, her voice is steadier. "But I do mean it. I do miss you."

You swallow, trying to keep your voice steady. "Well, that’s not my problem anymore, is it?"

She goes quiet.

For a moment, all you hear is the faint sound of music in the background, the distant chatter of people. She’s probably in the back of some high-end bar or a private lounge that someone of her status often went. You can picture it too easily—her long hair falling over her shoulders, her lips painted red, the glow of the city lights reflecting in her eyes.

Your heart beat rapidly at the image.

"You came to the fansign," she says suddenly, cutting into your thoughts.

You rub at your temple. "Mhm."

"Why?"

"You already know why."

"Say it anyway."

You sigh. "Because I had the tickets. It would’ve been a waste."

She lets out a humourless laugh. "Right. Can’t have that."

Something about the way she repeats your words from that day makes your stomach twist.

There’s another long pause. Then, almost hesitantly.

"Did you feel anything?"

Your eyes widened. "Feel what?"

"When you saw me again." Her voice is quieter now. "Did you feel anything?"

Your jaw clenches. You want to lie. Want to say no, not at all. That it didn’t matter. That she doesn’t matter. But you can’t.

Because the truth is, you felt everything.

The way your heart clenched when she looked at you. The way your stomach twisted when her fingers hesitated over your name. The way your mind screamed at you to move on, to stop letting her affect you, to stop caring.

But you don’t tell her any of that.

Instead, you settle for, "Who cares anyway."

"Why not?"

"Because we’re done, Jang Wonyoung."

She sucks in a sharp breath, and for a second, you wonder if she’s about to cry.

"You-" She stops, swallows. When she speaks again, her voice is unsteady. "You didn’t even try to fight for me."

Your grip tightens around the phone, knuckles turning white. "You were the one who ended things. On the phone, may I remind you."

"I know," she whispers. "And I thought it was the right choice. But now I just—" She breaks off, voice cracking slightly. "I don’t know anymore."

You shut your eyes.

It would be so easy to give in. To tell her that you don’t know either, that you still think about her, that you still wonder if maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t supposed to end like this.

But what’s the point?

She made her choice.

And you’re tired of being the one left picking up the pieces.

"You’re drunk, Jang Wonyoung," you say, voice carefully even. "Go home and go to sleep."

"Wait—"

"Goodnight."

And then, before she can say another word, you hang up.

The silence that follows is deafening.

And yet, for the first time in days, you finally let yourself breathe.

-

Or at least, it should be.

You did the right thing, you tell yourself—cut it off before it could spiral any further. Before you let yourself believe, even for a second, that anything has changed.

But still, the weight in your chest lingers.

The room feels too quiet now, the kind of silence that presses in from all sides, making it impossible to ignore the thoughts creeping into your head. You lie back down, throwing an arm over your eyes, willing yourself to sleep.

You don’t know how much time passes before you hear it.

A knock.

You freeze.

At first, you think you’re imagining it. Sleep-deprived, emotionally drained, and still reeling from that damn phone call, your brain must be conjuring things that aren’t real. But then, the knocking got more insistent. Erratic, yet insistent.

Your brows furrow. You sit up, straining your ears.

"Who the hell…?"

It’s almost 3 AM. No one in their right mind would be visiting you at this hour. Then again, you just got a call from a drunk girl not in their right mind.

Knock, knock, knock.

It’s louder this time, clumsy and uncoordinated, like whoever’s on the other side can barely keep their balance. A sinking feeling settles in your stomach.

You begrudingly throw off your blankets and push yourself up, padding toward the door. Your hand hovers over the handle for a second before you sigh and pull it open.

And there she is.

Wonyoung.

She’s standing there in the dim, flickering hallway light, wrapped in a thin coat that does nothing to protect her from the cold. Her long hair is slightly tousled, the glossy perfection from the concert gone, strands falling loosely over her shoulders. She sways just the slightest, a delicate wobble on unsteady feet. Her lips are slightly parted, eyes glassy—not just from the alcohol but from something else. Something unreadable.

You blink.

She blinks back, like she’s just now processing that you’re standing in front of her.

Then, with absolutely no warning, she wobbles forward, collapsing against your chest.

You barely manage to catch her. “Jesus—Wonyo.” You gently hold her arms, steadying her. “What the hell are you doing here?”

"Surprise," she breathes, half-laughing, half-sniffling.

You let out a sharp breath. “Surprise? You’re seriously—” You stop yourself, jaw clenching. “How did you even get here?”

"I took a taxi," she announces, like that explains anything. Like that justifies her showing up at your door past midnight after breaking up with you.

You stare at her. “Alone?”

“Mmhmm.”

Your stomach twists. “Wonyoung, do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”

She just hums, leaning more of her weight onto you. Her forehead presses against your shoulder, and you can feel the slight tremble in her body.

You sigh, tightening your grip. “You’re freezing.”

“I was walking.”

“Walking where?”

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she tilts her head back to look at you properly. Her lips part slightly, like she’s about to say something—something serious, something she’s probably been holding in for too long. But then, she hiccups.

You close your eyes, exhaling sharply through your nose. “You’re unbelievable.”

She smiles lazily, like she didn’t just show up at your door dead drunk in the middle of the night after breaking up with you.

"You hung up on me," she murmurs.

You pull back slightly, just enough to see her properly. “Yeah. I did.”

"That was mean," she says, pouting. "I was talking."

"You were drunk."

"Still talking."

You shake your head, adjusting your grip on her. “Come on. You need water. And sleep.”

She hums, letting you guide her inside. “Only if you let me stay.”

You pause.

For a brief second, something in her voice sounds painfully sober.

But then she giggles again, burying her face in your chest, and you decide that you’ll deal with that in the morning.

For now, you just hold her close.

You sigh, pressing your lips into a thin line as you shift your grip on her. She’s barely standing at this point, practically melting into you like she has no bones in her body.

"Alright, come on," you mutter, wrapping an arm around her waist and leading her inside.

She stumbles slightly, her fingers gripping at your shirt as she giggles under her breath. "You smell nice," she mumbles.

You ignore that.

You close the door behind you with your foot, guiding her toward the couch. She flops onto it with zero resistance, her coat slipping off her shoulders. The moment she’s down, she tilts her head back, blinking up at you like she’s expecting something.

She doesn’t hesitate. Stumble inside like she belongs here.

And maybe that’s the problem. She did belong here.

And now? Now you don’t know.

Her eyes lazily drift across the apartment, lingering on the things she still remembers—the half-empty cup of coffee on your desk, the hoodie she used to steal draped over the chair, the faint indent in the couch where she used to curl up next to you.

Then she noticed your desk, the same desk where the fansign ticket sat just days ago. The same one she saw in your hands at the fansign days ago.

"You really came," she murmurs, not looking at you. "I didn’t think you actually would."

You shrug. "Like I said. Would’ve been a waste."

She flinches. Just the tiniest bit. But you catch it.

She exhales slowly, arms wrapping around herself. "It was weird."

"What was?"

"Seeing you there. But not... There, you know?" She fully looks at you now, and there's something raw in her expression. Something you’re not sure you’re ready to face. "You didn’t smile. You didn’t tease me like you usually do. You barely even looked at me."

"What did you expect?" you ask quietly. "You dumped me, Wonyoung. You can’t just expect me to act like nothing happened."

She presses her lips together, fingers gripping the hem of her sleeve. "I know."

You wait. Give her the space to say what she came here to say.

But she doesn’t. Not right away.

She defeatedly sighed, tucking her knees under her chin, looking smaller than she ever has before. She stares at her hands for a long moment before mumbling, "I don’t know why I came here."

You scoff. "Really? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you drunk-called your ex, then showed up at his apartment in the middle of the night without a plan."

She frowns. "I do have a plan."

You raise an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

She huffs. "Step one: get inside. Step two..." She falters, looking away. "...I didn’t think that far."

You shake your head. "Unbelievable."

Silence stretches between you, heavy and unspoken.

Then, barely above a whisper, "Do you hate me?"

You freeze.

Your first instinct is to say no. Because of course you don’t hate her. You never could.

But that’s not the right answer, is it?

So instead, you tell the truth.

"I don’t know," you admit. "I want to. But I can't."

She looks up at you then, eyes searching. Hopeful and afraid all at once. "I messed up, didn’t I?"

You let out a hollow laugh. "Yea. Big time."

She swallows. Lowers her gaze again. "I thought breaking up would make things easier. For you…for both of us."

"Did it?"

She shakes her head. "No."

You run a hand through your hair, exhaling. "Then why did you do it?"

"I was scared," she says, and her voice is so small, so unlike the confident idol the world knows, that it almost hurts to hear. "I thought I was being selfish, holding onto you when I barely had time to see you. I thought you deserved more than stolen moments and rushed phone calls."

Your jaw clenches. "You didn’t even ask me what I wanted."

"I know," she whispers. "I thought I was making the right choice."

You sit down across from her, legs spread, elbows on your knees. "And now?"

She meets your gaze, vulnerability laid bare. "Now... I just miss you."

Your heart leaped a mile. This was the Wonyoung you always see. Not the glamorous and model-esque Jang Wonyoung everyone always see on TV. Not the well-spoken and powerful public figure everyone knows. Just…a gentle yet bubbly girl who snuggled up next to you on the couch at the end of the day.

But your brain should tell her to leave. To sleep it off, to sober up and think about this when her mind is clearer.

Then she reaches out—just the slightest, her fingers brushing against yours on the couch. And you don’t pull away.

"You’re drunk," you remind her, though your voice lacks conviction.

She smiles faintly. "Thanks…Mr. Obvious."

Silence. Then, tentatively, "Can I sleep here tonight?"

Another hesitation.

But just like before, you already know your answer.

You sigh. Your hand intertwined with hers.

"Go get a blanket. Wonyo."

She doesn’t move right away. Just watches you, like she’s memorizing you all over again.

Then, with a small, almost relieved nod, she gets up and stumbled into your bedroom as she dragged you along—the same bedroom she used to slip into after long schedules, the same one she used to call hers.

And just like that, the distance you tried so hard to create crumbles.

Again.

[jarofstyles]

Can you do a valentines blurb where she has her period and feels bad about it but he reassures her? Thank you Miss jars!!!

Aw that would be so cute! Yes let me do that.❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Check out our Patreon for early access and 240+ exclusive writings and series

Warnings- mentions of period/ period sex, light food play? If you wanna consider it that. Fluff

Harry hummed happily as he dipped another one the ripe, red strawberries into a bowl of dark chocolate, coating it thoroughly before setting it on an appropriately heart shaped plate. Turning to her with a hand cupped underneath, he held out one of the ones that had set up and she had drizzled with white chocolate. "Open up, gorgeous. Need someone t’taste test. Don’t want them to be shit, do we?"

As she took a bite, he couldn't resist moving the fruit to the side stealing a kiss, tasting the rich chocolate directly on her lips. "Mmm." he hummed, wiping the corners of his mouth with his thumb and pointing finger. "Almost as sweet as you- but you’re better." With a little smirk, he turned back to the counter to start the process again.

"These are basically foreplay, Y’know." he joked, dipping another strawberry and swirling it by the stem to get the excess dripped off as he leaned over to press a kiss to her neck, making her giggle. "I mean, chocolate-covered strawberries? Really?" He fanned himself dramatically, earning another laugh from her. "They're fucking dangerous..." He held another one out teasingly as she leaned forward. "Here sweets, open f’me again..." He fed it to her slowly, watching her lips close around the fruit. “See? It works for more than just my cock.”

“Har.” Y/N coughed, covering her mouth so the chewed up strawberry didn’t spray everywhere. “Can we be wholesome for once? This is a nice and calm activity.” She was teasing, but mostly didn’t want to get too far into it because then she would be miserable. It was very easy for him to work her up, but she had woken up with her period coming early.

"Alright, alright... if you insist. We'll be wholesome. Sorry, baby." He chuckled, wiping his hands clean on his half apron before taking another strawberry and dipping it carefully. "See? Wholesome Harry, feeding his sweet girlfriend strawberries... I can do it." He fed her another one, this time without any innuendo, simply enjoying the quiet moment with her.

She took the strawberry from him gently, her fingers brushing against his as she took a bite, chewing slowly and swallowing before speaking without the fruit in her mouth. "Mmm... Milk is my favorite. I know dark is healthier but.." She shrugged, wiping a tiny drip of chocolate from her chin with her finger. "Thank you. I know that it’s inconvenient that I got my period on Valentine’s Day but I’ll make up for it when it’s over." She reassured him, feeding him a strawberry in return, trying to keep the moment light and sweet. He hadn’t made her feel bad about it at all when she had told him, but she was still a little disappointed. The cute outfit she had wanted to wear was wasted.

He bit into the strawberry she offered, his teeth sinking into the ripe fruit as he chewed thoughtfully. "Baby, y’don't need to make anything up to me." He insisted. That wasn’t what this was about. "This right here? It's perfect." He gestured between them with the hand holding the strawberry, a small smear of chocolate now adorning his finger. Thankfully she had reminded him to take the rings off before they’d gotten too deep into it or he would have a whole different mess. "Us, being goofy over strawberries? S’my kinda romance."

It was actually rather nice to have a lower key Valentine’s Day. The presents were still waiting to be opened and the new plan consisted of movies, making their snacks and relaxing. Simply being in each others presence. As much as he liked to make a big effort and do some grander gestures, it made him feel good that she truly craved his mere presence more than anything else.

“Today isn’t about sex. It’s about bein’ together and showing our love. M’just happy that I’m here with you doing something. I may tease you, because I definitely would do it… I don’t mind blood-“ The wrinkle of her nose made him snicker. “Hey, M’just saying it doesn’t bother me. But it does you, and I don’t want it if you aren’t very, very enthusiastic about it. Praise kink n’all of that.” It was a joke… kind of. He did have a praise kink, but he really didn’t give a shit if they had sex tonight.

Being able to eat and laugh with her was the best sort of night. When she had said she didn’t feel too well, he had no problem cancelling the reservation and changing from the stuffy outfit he’d been in to a pair of sweats and one of her graphic tee shirts to make homemade pizza and chocolate covered strawberries. Domestic stuff was something he loved, anyways. Y/N was the best thing he loved.

He brought his chocolate-smudged finger to her lips, pressing it gently against them and encouraging her to clean it off with a small kiss. She obliged, her soft lips brushing against his finger as she licked off the remaining chocolate. "Love you, angel." He murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Always."

[chrissturnsfav]

rapper!chris singer!reader shower sex?

⋆.˚✮ shower sex with rapper!chris

you and chris are in the shower, hot water cascading down your bodies, expensive glass foggy. the bathroom echoes with your moans, the wet squelches as chris drives himself in and out of you, the noise of the water hitting the marble floor.

it's so erotic, so sloppy, so hot. and chris looks so good.

his messy brown hair is dripping wet, tiny droplets dripping down his chest, glistening in the overhead light of the shower.

you can't help the way your eyes grow watery, back arching off the wall as your legs cling around chris' waist tighter, nails digging into his biceps.

chris smirks, lips parted as he pants, pressing his forehead against yours as his hands knead the flesh of your asscheeks. "feels that fuckin' good? so good you fuckin' crying' again?" he chuckles breathily.

you find it hard to form words, blubbered sentences falling from your open mouth in shaky whines, eyes rolling back as a tear escapes them.

he hums softly, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip, the fast and hard pace he gives you every time not faltering for even a millisecond. he raises a hand, gently brushing a tear from your under eye, "c'mon, take it like a big girl, mama. you got it, know you do."

you whimper, drool seeping past your lips as you gasp shakily, arms moving to cross around his neck tight as ever, "p-please...fff-fuck..." you're not sure if you're begging him not to stop, or begging him to slow down. your mind is a hazy mess, unable to focus on anything but the feeling of him filling you up so nicely.

"s'okay," chris coos almost mockingly, chuckling at the way your face twists in ecstasy, teeth sinking into his bottom lip, "you can take it, my girl. always take my cock so pretty."

you let out a high pitched whine when you feel your orgasm approaching full speed in a way that makes your eyes water again, jaw locked open, thighs beginning to shake around his wet body. your inner walls squeeze him tight involuntarily, earning a groan from his lips.

"shiiit...you gonna cum f'me, huh?" he grunts, panting against your face, wiping another tear from your hot cheek, "can feel you squeezin' my shit so fuckin' tight, baby...c'mon, cum f'me."

"i-i...c-chriiisss," is all you manage to babble out, hooded eyes staring up at him through blurred vision as all the heat rushes to your belly, tightening the knot inside it, walls squeezing him tighter.

"i know," he coos, smirking down at you, feeling himself get close as well. he speeds up his pace, wanting you to cum before he does. "c'mon, baby, cum, m'so close..."

you gasp loudly, body shaking in his grasp as your orgasm hits you like a train. it makes your jaw fall slack, makes you drool, makes your eyes roll to the back of your skull as you let out a shaky cry.

chris feels your gummy walls fluttering around his dick as his pace grows sloppy, hissing in pleasure, heat rushing to his balls at the sight of your pretty face all fucked out for him.

"thaaaat's it, mama, atta girl. did so fuckin' good f'me...m'bout to fuckin' cum too..." he grunts, gasping as his eyes roll back, your body still shaking as you come down from your high in pants and whines.

"fuuuck," he groans through clenched teeth as he cums, eyes rolling back as you feel yourself get stuffed full of his sticky seed, making you let out a soft moan as he rides out your highs, hips stuttering.

"goddamn," he mumbles breathlessly, burying his face in your neck as you bury your own in his bare chest, slowly catching your breath. "pussy got me fucked up," he scoffs out a chuckle, shaking his head as he presses a soft kiss to your wet skin.

thank you for reading!! <3

tags 🏷️: @sturnobsessedwh0re , @idrk2292 , @mattsbrat , @ribbonlovergirl , @matthewsroses , @mattsdemi , @emely9274 , @frankoceanfanpage , @ifwdominicfike , @marrykisskilled , @strnilolover , @cayleeuhithinknott , @forgottxen , @sophand4n4 , @sturnsrecord , @purpledragon222 , @faiyaz555 , @jocelyncsblog , @freakiolos , @slut4chris888 , @chriss-slutt , @ilovedanielcaesar , @annsx03 , @snoopychris , @chrissweetheart , @slutformatt17 , @mattsturnii , @dominicfikeenthusiast , @mattsbratt333 , @ivysturnss , @tessasturns , @coquettechris , @courta13 , @sturniolo101 , @malsmind

@chrissturnsfav ™

[greensagephase]

Getting Freaky with Miguel Includes... [spelling Valentine's]

warning: nsfw, so minors DNI, female reader

V - Velvet ropes/handcuffs

Miguel thinks you look so pretty when you're tied up for him 🎀 and at his mercy, so he'll tie your wrists. You like to tie him, too, sometimes for some activities.

A - Ass spanking

Miguel is an ass [and thighs] man [don't ask me how I know], so he loves spanking you. It's not necessarily harsh spanks, unless you're into that, but he simply enjoys watching the way your rear moves after he delivers the spanks. And of course, the cute moans and whines you make are another reason he enjoys it.

L - Lube, lots of it

He has plans which he cannot tell you about right now because the haters will try to sabotage him -- He wants to take a trip to poundtown with you, and since Valentine's is on a Friday this year, he decides a weekend trip there is just and necessary, so lube is a must.😌

E - Erotic massaging

You both love to massage each other's sensitive spots to get all riled up before the deed, focusing on stimulation and pressure on those spots. Other important factors: ambiance music [hehe]. Oils are a must, obviously, and Miguel really enjoys this part. He loves watching you grow more and more needy and aroused as he massages the oils onto your skin, and watches you in awe at how glowy and pretty your skin looks.

N - Nipple play

Miguel delivers light caresses, circular motions, gentle sucking and biting, licking, pinching, and rolling to your nipples, adding on to the teasing. No hard play unless you like that.

T - Thighs

As stated, Miguel is also a thighs man. He loves thick thighs and will worship yours like you're a goddess. He'll mark them with love bites and hickeys! His home is between them, and you better accept that.

An extra on thighs, Miguel loves having you ride his. 🤭 He loves how desperate you get for friction, so he likes to tease you by stopping your movements by grabbing you from the hips. He later helps you by guiding you, whispering how pretty you look leaving a mess on his skin.

I - Intercourse

The p in v, of course! After roleplay, he will ravish your kitty until he has you chanting his name like it's the only word you know. Since this will be a weekend situation, he'll switch it up between rough, slow, or gentle -- whatever you're both feeling in the moment and with your consent always. You'll also switch it up with positions from missionary to doggy style to mating press for, um, research purposes.

N - Nutting inside

Miguel will nut inside you every time. He's not wasting a single drop. 😌You both love the feeling of him finishing inside [breeding kink... *sighs*😔🙏🏼]. The sight of his hot cum and your juices combined dripping out of your pussy is always so hot and satisfying for you both. If going multiple times in one session, he'll use it as lube for sure and push it back inside with his tip [clawing at the walls of my enclosure rn; i'm ovulating, sorry].

E - Edging

You equally love edging each other until you have the other whining and whimpering for release. Miguel will finger you, use toys, or use his cock to edge you to that moment before climaxing only to stop with a teasing smirk while he hears your pleas for release. In return, you play with his cock and balls with your hands and/or mouth to edge him on. You enjoy doing this when he's all tied up, especially.

S - Spooning in Aftercare

To add some fluff to this spice, spooning. Miguel always spoons you after each session. Of course, this is after he helps you clean up and makes sure you're all comfortable. He wraps his body around yours to make you feel loved and safe, whispering sweet things into your ear, like how well you took him, how beautiful you look, and how much he loves you.🥹

Oh, and that he hopes a November baby will be part of your lives in the upcoming future 🤭

♡_♡_♡_♡_♡_♡_♡_♡_♡_♡_♡_♡_♡_♡_♡_♡

Thought of this literally today. I'm ovulating, your honor. 😔 Thank you for reading!

Alondra❤️