#keep forgetting to scan so fuck it

[zorritocruzado]

Sketched these maybe last winter? Decided If Im going to make comics with these dorks I need to decide how they look when not anime faced lmao [thou tbf the boys are well defined in trailers but everyone else suffers from cgi anime face lol]

[iloveyoongi4321]

SHHH! Library Rules.

college!nerd armin who sits one row behind you in a lecture and tries to focus on the slides but your thighs are just... right there. crossed, jiggling slightly as you bounce your leg out of boredom, little skirt riding up when you shift—he’s not even hearing the professor anymore. his notes are just bullet points that say:

thighs.

thighs???

fucking thighs.

and he gets so flustered, like he adjusts his big round glasses and pretends to take notes but his face is flushed and his jeans are getting uncomfortably tight...

later that night? he’s scrolling through his phone and lands on your post—it’s a mirror pic, a seemingly innocent story—but you’re sitting on your bed with one leg up and he snaps. doesn't even make it to his bed. he’s jerking off in his desk chair, moaning like he’s being tortured, trying to keep quiet as he strokes himself to the thought of your thighs wrapped around his head, suffocating him.

armin doesn't believe his ears when you ask him to study. flash a sweet little smile. tilt your head just a little bit. he's halfway through chewing on his pen cap when you lean over his desk and say, “hey, armin. wanna go over notes together at the library?”

his brain short circuits.

he literally forgets how to speak for a full second. then manages a weak, breathy, “yeah—uh. yes. i mean. i can. i’d like that.”

you thank him like it’s nothing. walk away like you didn’t just leave a smouldering crater in his chest. but you know exactly what you’re doing. because later that evening, you show up to the library in that skirt. the tiny pink one. and the thigh highs with the little bow at the top. like a sin made of silk and smugness.

you sit across from him. cross your legs real slow.

he swallows.

don’t look. don’t look. okay, you looked. fuck.

and swallows again when you lean forward, pretending to scan your textbook, the movement making your skirt ride just a little higher.

you’re no fool. you’ve been aware of armin’s situation for a while now. the way he covers his boner with his notebook when you glance over during lectures? adorable. you’ve caught him staring at you from across the common room at least a dozen times. and those dorm parties he claims he “hates”? yeah, he only ever shows up to sit beside you and pretend he’s not practically drooling at the smell of your perfume. you think it’s sweet, in a pathetic sort of way.

you decide to tease him. just to see how long he’ll keep the good boy act up for. how long before that polite, bashful smile cracks into something desperate. how long before he snaps.

you shift in your seat, the toe of your boot nudging his ankle under the table. he freezes. you feign ignorance. flip a page. rest your hand on your thigh, drawing slow, idle circles with your finger against the exposed skin. then, you let your leg drift sideways—just barely brushing his.

armin squirms in his chair. what do people even do in situations like this? his knuckles go white where he grips his pen. his legs squeeze together.

you don’t even look up. just mumble something about not understanding the chapter. and he’s nodding too fast. offering help with a cracked voice, eyes wide, flushed down to his collarbones.

he’s shaking. he’s dying. he’s hard.

you lean in even closer—close enough to count the individual lashes framing his eyes, pupils dilated. his breath is shaky, coming in short bursts, and you can practically feel his pulse racing.

his ocean eyes flicker down to your lips before darting back to yours, a silent invitation. his breath hitches as you inch closer, every nerve in his body firing at once. he wants this, wants you, but his mind’s a whirlwind—should he pull back? should he stay still and let the moment breathe?

and then, you kiss him. soft at first, giving him time to adjust. he lets out a heavy sigh against your lips. he tastes like something fruity—like strawberry flavoured gum. the kiss is sweet, subtle and tender, like a vanilla note mixed with a slight tang, like a soft citrus. but it quickly deepens, your hands roaming over his body, teasing the warm skin of his chest through his shirt. you make quick work of his buttons, slipping your hands inside, tracing the lines of his lean chest.

your fingers tweak his nipples, pulling a gasp from him. his hands immediately fly to your waist, pulling you closer. you can feel his body trembling beneath your touch, his chest heaving as he tries to steady himself.

“oh?” you smirk, getting closer, voice dripping with playful mischief. you do it again, only this time, your nails catch the fabric, teasing that soft spot until he can’t keep it together. “sensitive?”

he nods—his face is a mess. eyes wide, like he’s been caught in the worst way possible. but then? he whimpers. you can’t help but smirk at the sound, feeling the heat rising in your own chest.

your fingers tease at the hem of his shirt, touch feather-light but deliberate. his breath hitches, lips parting with a muted gasp when your nails graze the skin just above his waistband. he’s so responsive—every little touch draws out a sound. a whine. a strangled noise that barely makes it past his throat.

he shouldn’t be this turned on from a few light touches. his thighs are tensed like he’s trying not to rut up into you—like that would make this moment disappear. like it would scare you off. but god, it’s getting harder to stay still.

he can’t fully enjoy this. not really. he feels guilt—it’s heavy in his gut. it’s wrong, right? you’re just teasing him. he doesn’t deserve someone like you. but your touch, the way your leg brushes his, the way you’re looking at him like you know what you’re doing, making him lose his mind—it’s too much.

his fingers twitch. his dick aches for release, but he can't—he can’t—let himself go any further. not like this. not when he’s been fantasizing about this moment for weeks. he can’t just be this fucking needy. can’t be this much of a mess in front of you. it’s—

“i…” his voice cracks, just as he feels his heart slam in his chest.

“’min?” you tease, just a little too sweet, fingers tracing his thighs like you have all the time in the world.

“i have to tell you something,” he breathes out, a desperate, breathy whisper. he’s panting, struggling to hold it together. he presses his hands flat on the table, palms sweating, trying to steady himself.

you look up at him with curiosity. his heart races, and the words are choking him. he bites his lip, all at once embarrassed and unbearably turned on.

“i—i—" he stops, gasping for air, hands shaking. "i can’t—i’ve been thinking about this… about you.” he’s so close, so close to breaking. his voice is strained, trembling under the weight of what he’s saying. “when i touch myself… it’s—it's you, okay?” he barely manages to get the words out, feeling like his insides are liquefying under the weight of it.

you freeze, smile faltering. “did you?” you whisper, your tone low and teasing.

“i’m sorry,” he gasps, eyes wide with guilt and the flush of shame creeping up his neck. “it’s... i didn’t mean—fuck, i shouldn’t have said that.”

you don't give him a chance to retreat. “no need to apologize, armin,” you say, the words dripping with something that feels like victory. “you’re cute when you’re this honest.”

and then, it’s quiet—just long enough to hear him choke back another whimper of frustration, as if his body is already begging for more. "but don’t think i’ll let you off that easy, hmm?"

his hands are trembling where they clutch your waist, like he’s not even sure he’s allowed to touch you like this. you nip at his bottom lip, smile curling against his mouth when he gasps again. you straddle him so that your thighs are on each side of his, and armin thinks he could die like this—caged between you, drowning in your scent.

but you take it a step further. you place your knee against his sensitive bulge and he lets out the prettiest moan you’ve ever heard. his hands grip at your hips harder, as if anchoring himself to reality, but you can feel the way his muscles lock in restraint. the sounds of a conversation drift from behind a nearby bookshelf, but all he can hear now is the blood rushing in his ears.

the noise nearby only adds on to your excitement. having armin— armin who’d ditch anybody to study for a test, armin who colour-codes his notes and panics if he’s not fifteen minutes early to each lecture—underneath you like this? it fills you with a sense of pride knowing you’re the only one that can reduce him to nothing but a horny mess.

your thigh rocks against his twitching bulge, back and forth, slow and mean, like you're testing him. and armin—sweet, delicate armin—falls to pieces.

his head lolls back against the chair, lips parted in a perfect ‘O’, breath stuttering out in high-pitched gasps. his eyes are glassy with tears and so, so bright, like he’s staring up at heaven and not at the ceiling of a dusty library. there’s drool slipping from the corner of his mouth—he doesn’t even notice. he’s too far gone. he looks pretty, absolutely destroyed, like his mind’s been wiped clean except for the feeling of your mouth on his nipple and your thigh grinding him down into nothing.

“nghhh—hah, i… i c-can’t think,” he whines, voice cracking, desperate and breathless. “feels too good, i’m— i’m gonna—!”

you coo against his skin, twisting gently at his nipple with your fingertips just to hear the helpless cry he gives in return. his hips jerk again, chasing the friction like he’s forgotten how to stop. he’s babbling now, barely making sense. “please, please, i—can’t—feels s’good, i—hahh—hurts—!”

his hands shake on your hips, clutching like he’s drowning, and all he can do is rut against your thigh while you kiss and suck at his chest like he’s yours to ruin.

his body trembles beneath yours, and the pressure builds too quickly, too intensely. he stammers out apologies, but before he can even register it, he’s cumming, and he bites his lip hard enough to draw blood. his face flushes bright red, humiliation flooding him as he whimpers, trying to recover his breath, lost in ecstasy. but its too late. someone’s footsteps are closer, and the sound of their voice drifts to your ears. he feels exposed, knowing the risk of someone walking in is too real, too immediate.

you dont stop rocking your thighs against his crotch, drawing out cries that feel much louder in the public area. armin begs you to stop with a weak, “please, I can’t take it, not—ngh—somebody’s gonna see…”

he thinks you’re going to let him cum again. god, he’s so close.

your thigh feel just right, your mouth is still on his chest, his hips are twitching up—and then you stop.

the friction disappears and your mouth leaves him with a soft pop, and armin lets out the whiniest noise, hands slapping over his mouth like didn‎’t mean to let it out.

“wha—n-no, no, please—”

“think i got enough out of today’s lesson, yeah? can’t spoil you too much, baby—you’ll get greedy.”

you run your fingers through his hair, so gentle it’s cruel.

“but don’t pout,” you coo. “i’ll give you another lesson. my dorm. if you behave.”

you get up and fix your clothes, slow and casual, like you didn’t just drive him to the edge of sanity. he twitches in your absence, like his body doesn’t know what to do without your weight on top of him.

“i’ll see you in class,” you toss over your shoulder with a wink.

and armin? armin is left there—completely ruined, dripping, thighs pressed tight together for any relief, praying nobody walks around the corner and finds him like this.

[rafesangelita]

♡ frat!rafe’s first time being restrained..

warnings: unprotected sex, bondage, slight sub!rafe (?), crying, overstimulation, praise, body worship, cockwarming

rafe couldn’t believe you had successfully convinced him into letting you tie him up, the lace material of your panties digging into his wrists as he struggled to move his hands away from his headboard. “..so you’re like, really into this?” you kneeled between his legs, your nails gently skimming up his thighs as you smiled softly at him. “mhmm, and i think you will be too after we’re done.” rafe’s eyes scanned down your bare figure, his cock straining against his stomach as you continued your light ministrations. you were barely touching him and he had already found himself aching for more.

forgetting that he couldn’t just reach out and have you tangible in his hands, rafe cursed under his breath once you straddled him, your slick folds sitting prettily on either sides of his length. “what the fuckkk,” he shuddered, craning his neck as he stared down at the sight, “please, i need to touch you.” he begged, pulling at the lace keeping him bound in place. shaking your head, you shushed him as you very slowly moved your hips over his cock, his mouth falling open in a silent moan before his eyes rolled back at the sensation. “that’s too bad..” you taunted, “you should know by now that you can’t always have your way.”

rafe gritted his teeth, his jaw clenching as he groaned. he wasn’t used to this kind of treatment at all. with him being the head of his fraternity, it wasn’t lost on him when girls pretty much put out for him whenever he wanted. this, however, was unlike anything he had ever experienced. “i’m sure you’ve never really had to earn your way into someone, have you?” feeling how warm and wet you were made his brain go numb, the only thing he could spare at the moment being a weak “n-no.”— running a palm over the ridges of his abs, you hummed sweetly. “well, i can see why; you’re almost irresistible.”

rafe’s skin was hot to the touch, his cerulean eyes barely opening as he gazed up at you like you weren’t real. “such a nice body, it looks like you work so hard for it,” you praised him, leaning down so your lips barely ghosted over his own, “and this face.. is this how you look right before you’re going to cum?” rafe’s chest was rising and falling with each breath he took, his hips bucking instinctively as you picked up your pace. “oh, god— f-fuck me,” rafe gasped, “fuck me, baby, i’m so close.” you could tell by the way he couldn’t be still that he was going to make a mess soon, his eyes watering as you picked up your pace.

covering his mouth, you watched as tears started rolling down his cheeks, his biceps practically bulging out of his flesh as his moans came out muffled against your palm. lifting your hips, you lined him up with your entrance, the man underneath you waiting with a bated breath as you sunk down on him. whimpering at the stretch, you moved your hand away from rafe’s mouth as he took his bottom lip between his teeth. if he thought he was close to cumming before, he was really in for it now that you were finally wrapped around him. rafe blinked, feeling utterly helpless as you bounced on top of him.

“don’t stop,” his voice came out in a shaky cry, “holy shit, i’m gonna fill you up.” deciding to untie your panties from his wrists, rafe didn’t waste any time as he pulled you against his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist as he thrusted into you from below. you gasped at the force of his thrusts, your eyebrows knitting together as he whimpered inside your ear. burying his face into the curve of your neck, he licked and suckled at your skin before blowing his load, your needy pussy milking him for all that he had. rafe held you in place, his cock twitching as he emptied himself inside your cunt.

trailing the tip of his nose from the underside of your jaw to your mouth, rafe kissed you tenderly before you laid your head against his chest. you two stayed like this for a few minutes, rafe still buried between your folds as he pulled the covers over both of you. “i think you converted me.” he sighed in defeat, already thinking about round two.

thank you for celebrating with me ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

[mytherapyisreading14]

Hey could you write a fic with post prison Reid where the reader has a crush on him and she doesn’t think he likes her so she keeps it to herself and when they are on a case she she’s Spencer manhandle the unsub and she gets kinda distracted because she wants him to manhandle her and then he finds out about her crush and then he kinda teases her about it then he fucks her like really rough sorry if that doesn’t make sense 😭 also could you make the reader have a thing for his hands lmao

Don‘t get Distracted

Summary: You got distracted when Spencer arrested the UnSub during your current case - he noticed and confronts you back in the hotel.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Category: Smut, some Fluff (18+ MDNI)

Warnings: Mentions of Knifes and stabbing, dirty talk, kissing, making out, unprotected sex (don’t do that), choking, spanking, orgasm denial, dom!spencer (kinda)

Word Count: 2,9k

Author’s Note: I’m sorry it took me so long to finish this🫢 Anyway, I hope you like it! :)

It isn't like you are trying to fall for Spencer Reid. In fact, you do your absolute best not to. You keep it professional. Friendly. Safe. Because if there is one thing you are sure of, it is that he doesn't feel the same. It isn't anything he does. He isn't cold or rude to you. Quite the opposite – he is kind and polite. But never more than that.

You aren't the type to be noticed by someone like him. Not after everything that happened. Prison changed him, and if there is ever a chance he looked your way before, it is long gone now. So you keep your crush a secret, but some days make that harder than others. Like tonight.

You sit on the edge of the bed, files spread all around you, but your focus is on Spencer. He stands by the window, arms crossed, eyes scanning the city below. You can tell he is thinking. He looks tense. Focused. Hot.

And all you want is to be close to him. To touch him. To tell him you noticed the way his smiles have grown rarer since prison, and that you missed them. That you missed him. But you don't.

-

The next day, everything shifts. You are closing in on the case, currently on the way to arrest the UnSub. The farmhouse where he is holed up looks like it could collapse any second. You, Spencer, and Morgan decided to split up. You take the back and step over a few broken door frames, your flashlight shining in the dark. A few minutes later you hear a noise.

You recognize it’s Spencer’s. "I need you to put down the knife. Now." You sprint toward the voices, and what you see nearly stops your heart. The UnSub takes a step forward and tries to stab Spencer in the stomach. But Spencer, he is faster. He sidesteps, catches the man’s wrist, twists it back, and then shoves him up against the wall with a force that makes you shiver.

One arm locks the guy in place, while the other brings out the cuffs. He works quick and controlled. And god, you are not okay... Your feet move on autopilot, but your brain doesn't. You can barely think past the rush of heat that explodes inside you at the sight of him. It is like watching a completely different version of him. You stare and just can’t look away.

He turns to you when it’s over. "You okay?" he asks. "Uh—yeah," you manage to breathe out. "I’m fine. Just... Didn’t know you have that in you." His mouth twitches into something between a smile and a smirk for a second. "Prison teaches you a few things." You try to play it cool. You really do. But your cheeks are already burning.

-

Back at the hotel, you tell yourself to forget it. That it’s just adrenaline. That the reason you’re so flushed has nothing to do with Spencer’s hands and everything to do with the takedown. Yeah, sure.

You avoid him the rest of the evening. Bury yourself in reports, avoid eye contact at dinner. Because the idea that you’ve reacted so obviously… and that he might’ve noticed? Absolutely mortifying. So when there’s a knock at your door around 10 p.m., the last person you expect to see is him.

“Spencer?” you blink. He stands there, holding two cups of tea like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “I figured you might need a distraction,” he says. “The last few days were intense.” You hesitate. Just for a second. Because what is he doing here? Still, you step aside. “Yeah. Uh… thanks.”

He sits beside you on the edge of the bed, hands you the tea, and for a while it’s quiet. Then he breaks the silence. “So… you were staring.” You freeze mid-sip. “What?” you ask, trying to act confused. “At the farmhouse.” He turns his head, watching you. “You looked surprised. And a little… flustered.”

“I was not—” you start, but he interrupts you. “You were,” he says, and this time there’s something different in his voice. He’s teasing you. “And then Garcia texted me something… interesting.” Oh god. You already know what’s coming. “No,” you say, but he nods, clearly enjoying himself.

“She said you made a comment about me. Something along the lines of… ‘if Spencer ever wants to manhandle me like that, he can.’ ” You nearly drop the tea. “She did not say that to you,” you say. “She did,” he says with a smirk. You think about an excuse, anything that might save you from total humiliation. “That is—I mean—I don’t mean it like—”.

He tilts his head. “Don’t you?” You blink at him. “I - no, and I… I think you don’t even like me like that.” His expression softens instantly. The teasing fades, just enough for something real to shine through. “What makes you think that?” he asks gently. You shrug, suddenly very aware of how close he’s sitting next to you. “I don’t know. You never… looked at me that way. You always seem kind of... distant.”

Spencer is quiet for a moment. “Yeah. I guess I do.” He looks down at his tea, then back at you. “The truth is… after prison, it was hard to let anyone in. I didn’t feel like myself. I didn’t really trust myself for a while. So I kept my distance.” He pauses. “Maybe I was trying too hard not to look at you that way.”

That shuts your brain down completely. “You were?” you whisper. He nods once. “Ever since I got back. Maybe even before that.” You didn’t expect that, but when his words settle, you grin. “So… what now?” you ask him. He leans in, eyes flicking to your lips for just a second. “Still want me to manhandle you?” he asks with a smirk back in full force. “Spencer!” you say, blushing and playfully hitting his arm.

He laughs and sets his tea aside, hand brushing your knee as he stands. “I’ll take that as a yes.” You stare up at him, still sitting on the bed, heart pounding against your ribs. He is looking at you differently now. “You’re seriously enjoying this,” you say with a shaky voice. “Enjoying what?” he asks, acting oblivious. “Teasing me,” you say, and his smile widens.

“Of course I do.” You roll your eyes playfully. “You’re insufferable,” you say. “Maybe,” he murmurs. “But you still want to kiss me.” You open your mouth, probably to deny it - or argue - or make some sarcastic remark, but nothing comes out. Because he’s already leaning down. And then, finally, his lips brush against yours. It’s barely there at first, but the moment you kiss him back, everything shifts.

His hand comes up to cradle your jaw, thumb tracing your cheekbone as his mouth moves against yours. You let out a quiet sound you don’t mean to, fingers curling into his shirt, and that’s all it takes for the kiss to deepen. Spencer’s other hand finds your waist, pulling you closer against him and the heat between you is impossible to ignore now.

His lips part slightly against yours, breath hitching when your hand slides up to his neck. The kiss turns messier then, hungrier. Like all the months of silence snap at once, and now there’s no holding back. He exhales against your lips. “You have no idea how long I wanted to do this,” he admits. “Try me,” you whisper, and he kisses you again, harder this time.

You gasp softly as he guides you back onto the bed, one hand bracing beside your head, the other trailing along your waist. His body hovers over yours. His lips ghost down to your jaw, then just below your ear. Your fingers tangle in his shirt, desperate to keep him close, to make this real.

“Spencer,” you breathe out while his hand is sliding under the hem of your shirt, your legs brushing against his. He pulls back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze. “Tell me you want this,” he says, voice rough and low, “tell me you want me to fuck you.” You look up at him, skin flushed, chest rising and falling in sync with his. “Please Spencer,” you whisper, “I - I need you to fuck me. I need you to fuck me hard. Now.“

For a heartbeat, he doesn’t move. Just stares at you like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you — like he can’t quite believe this is real. Then he leans down and kisses you again. "If at any point it gets too much for you, just let me know. I don't want to hurt you," he says with a worried look when he pulls back again.

A feeling of warmth and security spreads through you. "You look cute when you're worried," you tease him. "but I don't break easily,“ you say and wink. Then his hands are back on your waist, your back, your skin — everywhere at once. You can’t stop touching him, can’t get close enough to him.

The tension between you, held back for so long, finally melts into heat, passion, pleasure and love. His fingers hook around the hem of your pants and he pulls them off in one quick motion. Your top comes off next, then your bra and panties, that are already soaked through. His eyes trail over your body hungrily and he starts to kiss down your neck slowly.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he whispers in your ear and a shiver runs down your spine. His words and all the kisses make you even more desperate and you can’t help but buck your hips against him. You can feel his erection and want more but he pushes your hips back down. “Someone’s needy,” he says, not giving you what you want yet. “Spencer, please. Don’t make me wait,” you whimper and he chuckles.

He keeps kissing down your body - your breasts first, taking one of your nipples in his mouth. You observe his actions and seeing his big, slender hand around your breasts is a sight you didn’t expect to enjoy this much. You moan his name and he looks up and follows your gaze. “Like what you see, angel?” he asks and you nod. His hands continue to roam over your body, down to your stomach and between your thighs.

He keeps his eyes on you, observing every little reaction before he finally runs his fingers through your folds. “So wet, is this all for me?” he asks and you nod. “Words, angel. Tell me how good I make you feel,” he says, stopping for a moment. “Y-yes. All for you,” you breath out and he looks satisfied.

With one finger he starts to trail circles around your clit, slowly applying more and more pressure before slipping a finger in. It feels so good and you cover your mouth with your hand in order to stop meaning out loudly. Spencer however doesn’t like it, he immediately reaches for your hand and pulls it off. “No, don’t do that. I want to hear you moan for me for me angel.”

He adds another finger and starts to pump them in and out faster, keeping one finger on your clit the whole time. You can’t help but lean forward to watch his hand again, knuckles buried deep inside you. “Looks like my hands are quite a distraction to you,” he says and chuckles again before his other hand wraps around your throat, squeezing just perfectly.

You don’t respond, too focused on the pleasure and how good his hand looks buried inside you. With the sight in front of you, the feeling of his fingers inside you and his hand wrapped around your throat it doesn’t take long for your orgasm to build up. Your legs start to shake slightly and you clench around Spencers fingers. You’re almost there when he suddenly pulls out. You whine. “Spencer, what the hell are you doing? I was so close!” you curse.

“I know. But I to feel you come around my cock,” he says before he starts to take his clothes off. When he unbuttons his pants your eyes widen. He’s certainly bigger than you expected. He starts to stroke his cock and you can’t help but watch him. Even though you can’t wait to feel him inside you, you enjoy watching him. Then he leans down and spreads your legs further apart.

He lines himself up at your entrance, sliding through your wet folds and teasing your clit again before he finally pushes inside you. “So tight and wet for me, angel. You’re all mine now,” he says. He gives you some time to adjust before he starts to pound into you. He leans down next, sucking on your neck and breasts, leaving hickeys everywhere and claiming you as his.

The room is filled with your moans and whimpers and when Spencer looks down and sees his cock sliding in and out of you he groans. You wouldn't have thought that something could turn you on even more, but hearing him groan certainly did. “Oh god, so good. Pl - please, don’t stop,” you manage to breath out, your mind already lost in all the pleasure.

His grip on your hips tightens and he increases his pace. He can feel you clench around him and almost feels bad for what he’s about to do. He applies pressure on your clit again, playing close attention to your reactions and when your close again he pulls out of you. “A- Again? Are you fucking serious?” you ask furiously. You can tell he enjoys the control he has over you. “I hate you so much right now,” you say but he just grins.

“Say it like you mean it,” he says before he suddenly grabs you and flips you over. You’re on all fours now, ass up in the air facing him. He immediately slides back into you, pounding into you hard from behind and hitting new angles and reaching spots you never could. One of his hand slides up your back and into your hair, creating a makeshift ponytail and pulling hard.

Your back arches up and you can feel your body pressed against his. His other hand suddenly comes down on your ass, spanking you. You moan out his name so loud that you’re afraid your neighbours know now what you’re doing in here, but you don’t really care. “That’s what you wanted, am I right? For me to fuck you? To spank you?” Your eyes roll back in pleasure and you’re too overwhelmed to answer him.

Spencer how ever doesn‘t like that. The hand he just hand in your hair goes down to your throat again while he gives you an another spank. “Answer me,” he says and slows down, pressing you against his body and leaning down next to your ear. “Tell me how much you love this,” he whispers in your ear. “I- I love this. I love it when you fuck me hard, Spencer,” you say quickly, afraid that he’ll not let you come at all if you don’t.

“Good girl,” he says and kisses the spot behind your ear gently before he picks up his pace again. You can feel him twitch inside you, telling you that he’s getting close now too. “I’m gonna tell you when you’re allowed to come. I want us to come together, do you understand?” he asks as if he’s read your thoughts. “Yes,” you breath out quickly before you get too lost in the pleasure again.

He thrusts into you again a few times before he slides his hand forward, teasing your clit with his fingers again. “Come for me, angel. Now,” he says and you let go. Your orgasm crashes over you and you never had one this intense before. You can feel him twitch inside you before he finishes too. For a second you see stars. When you finally come down, he lets go of you and slides out.

You lay down together, completely out of breath and he pulls you in his arms. Neither of you say a word but he holds you close to him, gently stroking your hair. It’s a quiet, peaceful moment but after a while Spencer speaks up. “You should go to the toilet now. I don’t want you to get UTIs,” he says and you groan. “You know how to ruin a moment, don’t you Dr. Reid?” you joke and he laughs.

“I’m just worried about your health, angel,” he says and leans down to kiss your head. “We can still cuddle when you come back, okay?” he says and you smile. “Definitely. You don’t get rid of me that easily,” you tease him. “Good. Because I don’t want to. Now hurry, I want you back in my arms.”

[digitald0rk]

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* NERD ALERT ! [ 1 ]

pairing — mark grayson x gn!reader.

synopsis — in which mark falls for the new comic book store employee who matches his nerd [ and he hopes his freak too :3 ] and realizes he wants that effing cookie SO BADD.

warnings — super duper self indulgent! mark being mark, mention of blood like once. sappiness overload RAHHHH. not proofread.

w.c — 2.1 k.

a/n — this is part 1 btw, the second part's gonna be focused y'all's relationship. this is SO SO SLEF INDULGENT LMAO. i am that annoying little fly that keeps buzzing when it comes to my interests, my ass keeps going, "holy shit is that xyz reference???" :0 like GIRL STOP PULLING THESE REFERENCES OUT YO ASS 🤓 if you're like this too just know i think you're super based and awesomesauce gang :D BE ANNOYING ABOUT YOUR INTERESTS!! it's honestly so refreshing, anyways :p lemme know what you think of this!

taglist — @vm4879bb-blog [ lemme know if you wanna be added too ]

READ PART [ 2 ] HERE.

it was another normal ordinary day, he was just binging the new volumes of seance dog in his favorite little comic book store because being a superhero leaves no time for that, thank god he has some time off.

it was another normal ordinary day, that is until you walked in.

well more like look insanely good behind that cash register.

he asks himself, mind racing a mile a minute, how has he never noticed you before? are you a new employee? why the hell is his heart beating so fast? are you single?

the moment he sees you smile at some customer, he's doomed.

he has to talk to you. he has to-

oh god wait. he's been staring, hasn't he? no no no! what if you think he's some loser or worse a creep. [a weirdo what the hell am i doing hereeeee sorry had to lol]

and when your gazes meet for a split second, he whips his head away way too fast, if he wasn't a viltrumite he definitely would've gotten whiplash, his eyes immediately zeroing on the comic in his hand, which is actually upside down. not that he realizes because he's too busy thinking about how he'd love to get lost in your pretty eyes, he needs to get a grip, what is he fourteen?

it's just some dumb fleeting infatuation and-

then he hears a laugh. peeking up from the still upside down seance dog volume, hoping to god it's not your laugh because if it is, he longs to hear it again.

it was your laugh. oh he's in deep.

and he swears he's never heard a more beautiful thing. sap.

he needs to be the reason to make you laugh.

oh shit he's holding it upside down, hopefully you didn't notice (*_*;)

it takes him a whole ass week to muster up the courage to talk to you, he'd only check out with his new additions and issues when it wasn't your shift.

he's checked himself in the mirror a gazillion times, his hair looks okay, maybe he should've worn the blue shirt, it makes his eyes pop out-

he's mark grayson, he's invincible for fuck's sake.

still his palms grow sweaty as he approaches you to check out, little do you know he already has these volumes, he's just desperate to talk to you okay.

"hi." and great, his voice cracks.

but your sweet smile makes him forget about it. he watches you as you scan his items, typing away as you do so.

he kind of wants to hold your hand. is that bad?

"so, seance dog huh?" oh shit you're making conversation with him? oh my god calm down calm down calm down-

"yeah, it's uh one of my favs." he flashes a small smile, a nervous one.

"no way! same!" you beam at him, sheepishly showing him the small seance dog hair clip holding your hair in place like it's some sort of national treasure.

you're telling him that you, the cute comic book store employee he's been crushing on for weeks now, likes seance dog?

he's dreaming.

he has to be.

right?

then you say something, something only a huge seance dog fan would know.

and he swears he hears wedding bells, he can already see walking down the aisle.

it takes him a ridiculously long time to recover, eyes widening comically as he processes that this is infact not a dream.

"you okay there?" you ask slightly amused.

your voice breaks him out of that little trance you just unknowingly put him in, his eyes flitting to the name tag on your shirt-

he can't help himself from muttering your name, soft and reverent like a prayer.

a little flustered giggle leaves your mouth.

oh.

oh.

he made you laugh? he feels like he's on top of the world, he introduces himself, his smile widening when he shakes your offered hand.

william's gonna have a field day with this one.

after that one conversation, he's grown comfortable around you over the past few weeks.

and he's fallen even deeper in love.

he's less tense and awkward around you, rambling about everything and anything, conversation flows easily between you two now.

you'd call him the second you'd read the new volumes of your shared favorite comics to talk to him about it, he does the same.

he puts you on his favorite comics, you put him on yours along with whatever you're big into. it's a win-win really.

he's never been happier.

you make him feel so seen.

he doesn't feel the need to hide parts of himself from you. he loves when you buy him matching merch or just little trinkets of his interests.

rex made fun of mark's little italian charm bracelet once, because what do you mean the strongest man on the planet has a matching charm bracelet with all the things he loves on it that he always wears?

it actually broke the first time he wore it to a fight because obviously, what was he thinking? gets very sad when he can't find all the pieces to put it back together, asks cecil to remake it with some metal that won't break from the impact of alien attacks or whatever decides to mess with the peace of earth the next time. he gets all pissy when he gets blood on it :(

"aw that's adorable!" rex would tease him, but mark would just get all excited because he gets to talk about you <3

cue him rambling about all the things you made for him or got for him that align with his favorite pieces of media and interests, rex does NOT understand half of those words but hey as long as invinciboy's happy.

rex is not making that mistake again lol, also he thought you were dating mark because of the way his eyes turn into literal hearts whenever you're mentioned, so imagine the look on his face when mark's all bashful like, "nah i wish :(" rex goes, "man you two are so fucking oblivious." and he's right.

even outside of your little nerdy conversations and hang outs, when he comes to you for comfort, he feels safe.

and that — feeling safe, not being on edge 24/7 isn't easy for him, but you make it easier than breathing.

he feels loved when you hold him, rub his back and make some dumb joke when he's having a bad day.

he lives for the references you make out of nowhere.

"holy shit is that-" you start excitedly.

"i was just gonna say that!" he laughs.

pointing out things that he thinks are references to his favorite media and you joining him, this has to be love.

"why does that cloud lowkey look lik-" he starts and you finish his sentence for him, he laughs at how you two are almost always on the same wavelength.

once the secret is out that he's invincible, he'll literally just fly to some foreign country to get you what you want, oh what's that? a new figurine of your favorite anime just dropped? it's only available in japan? it's already yours <3 anything for you, he's whipped. [ god bless his bank account i imagine it's in negative LMAOOOO because his ass is definitely not letting u pay :( ]

and when you oh so sheepishly hand him the seance dog plushie you crocheted for him as his birthday present, muttering something along the lines of how "it's not good enough" or "it looks a little funny", i mean yeah seance dog has seen better days for sure where his eyes are the same size, he has to physically stop himself from kissing you senseless, because how dare you be this thoughtful and sweet.

yeah he's in love alright.

after a lot of restless nights and convincing from william, he finally decides to ask you out after six months of longing and yearning.

you two are currently in your room, hanging out. you had invited him over to watch the new reboot of your favorite sci fi series, although the internet seems to have a different plan as the video keeps buffering and loading.

you groan in annoyance, refreshing the page, still nothing.

so when you give up and let it do it's thing, aka the good ol "pretending not to care so it'll load faster", mark takes this as a sign.

"hey uh-" he opens his mouth, he's going to piss himself, he can't do this.

"yeah?" you reply. he sounds awfully nervous.

he stares at you, holding your gaze, lips slightly parted before taking a deep breath.

he ends up immediately blurting out the words he'd practiced a thousand times, "iloveyousomuch", his words are hurried as if he's scared you'll leave him if he's not quick enough.

he pauses, realizing this isn't exactly going to plan. he has just confessed his feelings, it's done now. there's no going back from this and that scares him.

he's also considering just making a run for it, or well fly for it, your window's open afterall.

he avoids your gaze like the plague, the ground suddenly very interesting.

he hesitantly adds, "i have for awhile now actually", might as well serve his heart on a silver platter to you it's all yours anyways, it beats for you, he thinks.

his cheeks are flushed a pretty pink. he can't stop his mouth, it moves on it's own, "im sorry if- if this ruins our friendship i just-"

"i love you too mark", you can't help yourself from confessing back, feeling your cheeks heat up.

"i just can't do this, i can't be friends when everytime i look at you i want to ki-" wait.

it's actually adorable the way he looks at you all wide eyed when his brain finally processes what you said.

did you just say you love him back?

nope, that's just his terrible hearing that comes with being a superhero, all wishful thinking.

but the way you're looking at him tells him otherwise and your words only confirm that his hearing is perfectly fine.

"you were saying?" you tease him, daring him to finish that sentence.

thank god the teasing is back, this is familiar territory. his nerves calm down a bit.

a minute of silence passes before he speaks.

"so that just happened", he chuckles, he wants to be all suave and cool and say something that'll make you blush, but he can't.

he doesn't need to.

because that's not him, he's mark grayson, he's awkward, a sweetheart and a big nerd. he just needs to be himself to make you swoon.

you know this, he knows this.

he knows you accept him for who he is, so he doesn't think twice about leaning in when you reach out to cup his face, leaning in as well.

your acceptance, your love, you. that's all he needs.

and the moment your lips meet his he realizes those six months were worth it.

he gently pulls you closer by your waist, his touch hesitant, it takes all his power to not just pull you flush against him and show you just how much he adores you.

when you pull him closer by the neck, his toned chest brushing against yours, he has to stop from letting out a small pleased groan.

you're just as desperate as he is.

kissing you like this is dizzying, he can even taste the sweetness and slight tang of the strawberry dessert you two had shared earlier on your lips and it only serves to drive him crazier.

his body practically aches when you pull away, chasing your lips. he can't get enough.

"easy alien boy", you chuckle, trying to catch your breath — resting your forehead against his, nose scrunching a little when he kisses the tip of it, nuzzling his own nose against yours afterwards.

his smile is sickeningly sweet and contagious. "i love you", he whispers.

and when you whisper it back he giggles happily, pressing a kiss to your head - he pulls you in his warm embrace. relishing in the feel of your body against his, fitting like a missing puzzle piece.

it's like you were made for him.

a scream from the tv ruins the intimate atmosphere, ah so now it decides to load. you two stare at each other, a collective look of "are you seeing this shit" is exchanged before you two burst into laughter.

both of you could care less about the show playing on the tv, too busy indulging in long passionate sweet kisses.

"the new issue of batm-" you jokingly start against his now swollen lips.

"baby! we're kinda having a moment here", he scoffs playfully, the dumb lovesick smile on his face only widening.

"no but seriously the new issue sucked ass. they mischaracterized him sooo bad and-", he complains, not moving a centimeter away from your lips.

"and you're a nerd" you cut him off, pulling him close by the collar of his shirt for another kiss.

"hey that's friendly fire!" he hopes you'll always shut him up with a kiss <3

© digitald0rk 2025. do not steal any of my works :[ thank you for reading, interactions are always appreciated and welcome! want more? click here ★

[dailynnt]

LOVE ME, EVEN IF I DON’T DESERVE IT

☽ ݂ ໋Summary: He didn’t believe in love. You wasn’t looking for a one-night stand. But sex became a trap. Feelings a mistake. Jungkook thought he could keep you, even when he kept disappearing whenever he wanted. You stayed, until got tired of waiting. And when you left — he finally understood what losing truly means. He wants you back. Not just your body — your heart. This is a story about passion, pain, and a second chance…

☽ ݂ ໋Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ The Reader, Jungkook/Y/N

☽ ݂ ໋Age restrictions: 18+

☽ ݂ ໋Size: one shot

☽ ݂ ໋Tags: established relationship, toxic relationship, breakup, from ex to…lover?, makeup sex, possessive jungkook, emotional smut, second chance romance, nsfw, smut, heartbreak, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, soft moments, he falls first, he falls harder, dom jungkook, passionate sex, emotional reunion

☽ ݂ ໋From author: The note to this fic was too big 🤭 So read it below after the story 👇🏻💜

☽ ݂ ໋Dedication: To every of my subscribers 💜 You are my strength, inspiration and priceless love 💜

☽ ݂ ໋Permanent tag list: @kelsyx33, @curse-of-art, @someoneelse0109, @kooklovee, @kookiesncreamri, @kooko009, @bhonbhon, @smokinghotstargirl, @mskookie, @minimoninini, @medstudentlifestyle, @bhonbhon, @indigomoonchild09, @goldenboysmuse, @hisdecalcomania17, @ggingerismm, @tranquilreign, @asyr97, @mar-lo-pap, @diame93

☽ ݂ ໋Warning: This fanfic contains strong language, explicit sexual content, emotional manipulation, jealousy, toxic dynamics, and angst. Please read with caution if you’re sensitive to themes of heartbreak, regret, and complicated relationships. English is not my first language, so you may find some grammar mistakes or oddly structured sentences. Thank you for your understanding and kindness. 💜

Jungkook was not a fan of serious relationships. He saw sex as a game, as a way to release tension, as entertainment. So when he met you for the first time, you were supposed to be just another girl for the night.

It was his usual evening, with hookah smoke drifting across the tables and music playing too loud to hear his own thoughts. He was sitting with his friends, relaxed. His appearance was a magnet for girls and he knew that his tattoos and piercings were a kind of beacon. After drinking enough alcohol, he decided to find himself the one for the night. His eyes scanned the room looking for the most attractive one. He spent almost the whole hall with his eyes until he saw you.

You weren't laughing out loud, or dancing defiantly like the others. You were just sitting with your friend, holding a glass of tequila and looking out into the hall, as if you were familiar with everything here, and at the same time, as if you were above it.

He was impressed by this.

And then you met his eyes - briefly, coldly, sharply looking away. And he realized everything: you're not one whom interested in cheap tricks.

He came over ten minutes later.

"You look so bored."

You shrugged your shoulders without looking at him:

"Find yourself another victim. I'm not looking connected for a one-night stand."

Jungkook smiled. He liked complicated girls. But not for their emotional depth, no. It was the excitement. Because of the desire to prove that even those who are not "looking" will eventually end up in his bed.

And you did. He managed to get you to engage in a dialog, and at some point he was even interested in listening to you, he ordered you a few more cocktails, and you became softer. Finally, in the morning, he offered to take you home. Just to take you home, but in same time hoping to kiss you in the hoping for more. And when he got you to your house, he kissed you at the door, as if to save you from falling, and he realized that you had worked exactly according to his plan.

It was only supposed to be one time. He thought he was going to fuck you like everyone else-fast, vivid, and the next day he would forget your name.

But sex with you was different.

It was like you knew his every limit. As if you weren't afraid of its dark, wild side. On the contrary, it seemed to excite you.

After that night, he wrote to you himself. A few days later. And when you agreed to meet him, Jungkook was secretly happy. He knew he could enjoy great, wild sex with you again.

Then he came again. And then again.

You had a temper, you had character, you challenged him, and he loved it. And one day it happened. You started dating. No agreements, no serious words. He just didn't sleep with other woman anymore-at least not at first. You just became his girlfriend. By default. Even though he didn't see himself as a boyfriend.

Especially not a serious one.

He didn't promise love. And he didn't plan to. Only sex that could be obtained anytime, anywhere. You were the kind of girl who liked to experiment, wasn't boring in sex, and could make Jungkook want you all the time.

But then, as with everything that made him quickly catch fire, he lost his passion for your sex, the euphoria wore off, and he demanded something new. And he started cheating. He justified himself by saying that "it happens". That it doesn't mean anything. That he was just a man.

Jungkook started responding to your messages late. He would not show up for days. And every time you had a fight, he followed the usual scenario: he silenced you through kisses, through sex, through his ability to undress you, kiss you, break you into sweet oblivion.

Because he knew you liked having sex with him. Because it had never been like that with anyone else. Jungkook liked your body. Your wet eyes after a fight. Your supple skin. You were different from the others. But he was sure that you, like everyone else, would stay.

And you did. Until in one day something changed.

After another fight and your typical reconciliation, Jungkook agreed to go to Busan with his friends to the ‘Busan Rock Festiva’, which he attended every year. Why didn't he invite you to go along, because it wouldn't have been a vacation for him then. If you were there, he would have to restrain himself, and that's not a place where you need to restrain yourself.

So when he was already there, having a good time with his friends, when the new girls joined them, he got the first call from you that day.

Jungkook didn't answer the first one. When you called him again a few minutes later, he decided to answer you, saying that he there only for a day. Jungkook assumed that you would be angry, but he knew how to calm you down when he returned from Busan.

So Jungkook stepped away from his company and pressed the green button.

"Hey, my babygirl," he said, his voice soft.

"Hey," you said into the phone. Jungkook smiled lightly.

"What's wrong? Are you tired?" he asked, sensing the fatigue in your voice. You exhaled heavily into the phone.

"The day at work sucks," you said. "That's why I desperately need my boyfriend," your voice standing more playfully, but not without a trace of fatigue.

Jungkook is about to say that he's not in Seoul, but he doesn't hear Taehyung appear behind him and unceremoniously shout in his ear.

"Jungkook-ah! Come back to us. There are more girls to come. Why are you stuck here?"

Jungkook knocked Taehyung's arm away with the one he had managed to hug he and quietly showed him that he was talking to you with an angry face. Taehyung put his hand over his mouth and cursed silently.

"I'll be right over," Jungkook said and pushed Taehyung in the back. He apologized quietly, but Jungkook waved his hand and moved on. You were silent into the phone the whole time. "Babygirl, I would love to come to you. But I left for Busan this morning. Didn't I tell you?" the lie came out of Jungkook's mouth as easily as ever.

"No," you answered shortly and calmly. "You didn't tell me you were going to Busan."

Jungkook exhaled theatrically into the phone.

"Didn't I tell you? I told you yesterday when we were together that today is the ‘Busan Rock Festiva’, which my friends and I go to every year," Jungkook convinced you.

"We didn't being together yesterday," you said, still calmly, "We last seen on Monday, and today is Friday."

Jungkook didn't even panic. He knew that if you started to get angry now, he would accept it, and when he returned to Seoul, you would immediately make up.

"Really? Oh fuck, I was so wrapped up in this damn job that a week seemed like one day. Then I told it you on Monday."

"No, and you didn't mention it even on Monday," you insist. Jungkook notices that you are not angry. Your tone is even and calm. Perhaps because you are tired, you don't have the energy to be angry with him? Or have you finally accepted his constant pranks and disappearances?

"Oh sorry doll, I was planning to tell you, and seems to I forgot. It's only for a day, I'll be back tomorrow night. Damn it, we haven't seen each other for a week, I missed you like hell. As soon as I get back to Seoul tomorrow, I'll come see you first," Jungkook said, lowering his voice and moving further away from his group of friends. There was loud music and shouting from the festival participants around him, so he walked to a place where the sounds would be less loud.

"Okay. I'll be waiting for you," you said in the same tone, "Have a fun, Kook," you wished.

"Thank you, babygirl. See you tomorrow?" he asked, and he already caught himself thinking that he didn't like the fact that you didn't react to the fact that he went to Busan. You didn't even ask about the girls Taehyung mentioned.

"I'll see you tomorrow," you replied, and you were the first to hang up.

Jungkook stood there looking at his iPhone screen until it went off. He was really impressed by your reaction. Normally, you would have been interrogating, angry. But your calm reaction was not typical, and for some reason, it touched him. Jungkook put his phone in his pocket and returned to his friends thinking about you and your conversation.

Taehyung apologized to Jungkook that he was going to get in trouble with a girl because of him, but Jungkook brushed it off and continued drinking. The girls in the company were pretty, but for some reason none of them made Jungkook feel like having someone tonight.

One pretty blonde, even knowing that Jungkook had a girlfriend, did not hesitate to flirt with him with obvious hints of sex. She spent the rest of the evening and night hanging around Jungkook, but he didn't respond. He didn't want to have sex. But the girl did not lose hope, and when she asked Jungkook to take her to her camping tent because she could barely stand, she offered to give him a blowjob on the way. He refused even that, even though at any other time he would have shoved his cock deep down this whore's throat.

The next day, Jungkook returned to Seoul late at night. It was eleven o'clock in the evening, and he drove up to your house and texted you that he was there. You repeatedly made many times Jungkook to memorize the password to your house, but he wouldn't even try. He didn't want to bother with the password to your house. Usually when he was here, it was enough that you were with he and you would enter the password yourself.

The answer from you came almost immediately, as if you were waiting. You wrote that you were in the park near your house, sitting by the fountain, waiting for him. Jungkook raised his eyebrows wondering why you were in the park so late instead of at home. He didn't wear his helmet, because the park was close, so he started the bike and rode off.

While he was riding to you, he caught himself thinking that he really missed you. Especially your body and your hospitable pussy. The thought of fucking you tonight made his cock in jeans hard.

He got there in less than five minutes. Jungkook parked his bike in the parking lot near the park entrance and walked to the fountain.

It was almost deserted. You sat on a bench by the fountain, cross-legged and wrapped in a light cardigan. The lanterns cast a soft light on your face. You noticed him and he smiled at you. But in return, he saw coldness in your eyes. Not resentment - no. That would have been easier. Not anger, because he knew how to calm it down. It was the coldness of distance.

He approached to you slowly, confidently, as if he didn't feel anxious. But something inside him was shrinking. He stopped a few steps away, looked at you, and tilted his head slightly to the side:

"My babygirl looks like she didn't miss me," he said with a soft smile, but you didn't smile back. "Hey..." Jungkook sat down next to you, very close, "But I missed you," his voice lowered and his hand dropped to your knee. He put his other arm around you, pulling you closer. Jungkook touched his nose to your jaw and ran it all the way up to your ear, inhaling your scent. He really missed you, even your scent, which had always seemed ordinary to him. Pleasant, but not as evocative as it was now.

"I really missed you," he whispered in your ear. Then Jungkook grabbed your chin with his fingers and turned you to kiss you. You immediately, by inertia, let his tongue into your mouth, touching it timidly with your own.

Jungkook deepened the kiss, feeling a wave of excitement. He didn't understand how, but you rekindled the passion and desire he had at the beginning of your relationship. And just as he was about to pick you up by the waist and carry you to his lap, you gently but firmly pulled away.

"No," you said without raising your voice. You simply stopped his touch, as if it were not Jungkook but someone else. His eyes narrowed. He licked his lips, as if trying to collect himself.

"What's wrong, baby?" he asked quietly.

"We're in the park," you said just as quietly, turning away. Jungkook leaned down to your ear.

"We haven't had sex in this park yet. I wouldn't mind fucking you right here," he whispered. You were frozen, unresponsive. Jungkook kissed your earlobe, and when he realized that you weren't responding to his actions at all, he concluded that you were upset about his trip. "Hey," he called out, "What's wrong? Are you mad at me for going to Busan without you?" Jungkook asked bluntly. You looked in front of you, and then looked down at your lap, at his hand, which was at a dangerous distance from your fly.

"I want to break up," you said firmly. Jungkook felt a twinge inside, but he didn't show it in any way. He pulled away slightly and looked at your face.

"What did you say?" he asked again, unsure. You turned your head to him and looked him in the eye and said clearly and distinctly.

"I want to end our relationship. Let's break up," you said, barely keeping your voice steady. Jungkook held you for a few more seconds and then let go.

"Why?" he asked. He was curious to know the reason. Because your relationship had been going on for six months, the longest Jungkook had ever been in, and you had put up with everything until now. Jungkook thought you didn't mind the relationship like this, and he didn't promise to marry you, but you had great sex and it seemed like that should be enough. Right?

"What's the point, Kook?" you asked instead of answering him right away.

"What do you mean, what's the point?" Jungkook didn't understand, raising his eyebrows. You laughed hysterically but quietly.

"You only come to me when you want to fuck. And I'm not sure it was ever anything special to you. So I'm letting you go, that you were free to do it all you wanted and not hide."

Jungkook exhaled an exasperated breath. You've fought many times, you've asked him to leave, you've suspected him of cheating, but you've never asked him to end the relationship. Something unpleasant stirred inside him. You're asking for an end to the relationship, and it's a good opportunity to finally get rid of your boyfriend's responsibilities.

But why doesn't he want to? Is he used to you being around all the time? That he can come to you at any time and you always accept him? Or is he angry that you asked for a divorce first? He was always the one who left girls first, not the other way around.

Jungkook was silent. His jaw was tense, and there was something dangerous in his eyes-not anger, but that deep, aching annoyance that comes through when you don't expect to be defeated. He stared at you for several long seconds, as if trying to read if that was really all. But you didn't look away.

"Do you really want this?" he asked slowly. His voice was low, dull, and he was trying to hold back his emotions and his pride that you had managed to hurt.

"Yes," you answered simply. Not in a trembling voice, not through tears. And that was worse. It was convincing. Jungkook smiled, and he reached out to hug you. He convinced himself that you were just mad at him as usual.

"Come on, babygirl, you love me. How can we part?" he says confidently, and he wants to kiss you so that you succumb to his charms, but you turn your head away and Jungkook barely manages to avoid kissing the back of your head. He freezes and then pulls away. Jungkook waits silently for you to turn around. You slowly turn your head straight and don't look at him.

"Yes. I loved you. But does that bother you? You've never cared about my feelings!"

It was true. Your feelings didn't mean anything to him. But now he felt his chest tighten. Why? You're just a girl. For whom he can easily find a replacement. But will those girls be like you?

"I'm tired of everything. I'm tired of you." you said honestly.

Jungkook felt as if something sharp was slowly scratching him from the inside. His gaze dropped down to your fingers curled into a fist in his lap, and suddenly he thought he was seeing you for the first time. Without the pink haze of sexual fantasies. Without a convenient role. Just a living, tired girl who loved him and was tired of waiting for a response. But it made him angry. Angry that you take everything so radically now, but not the way you used to.

"What are you tired of?!" he asked, somewhat irritated. You continued to ignore him with your eyes.

"Of your silence, your betrayals, your apologies with your body. I'm not sure if that sex ever brought me anything other than the feeling that you only wanted me when I was naked." A silence fell between you and it was painful for both of you. You were the first to break it. "Pretend like I never existed," you asked, "You're a master at this. You've been doing it our whole relationship."

Jungkook let go of you. He exhaled heavily and ran his hand through his hair. He turned to you and saw that you were sitting there with an indifferent expression.

He slowly stood up from the bench, something inexplicable still pulsating in his chest - it was not anger, not resentment. It was that rare feeling that comes only when you lose something... that you've had for a long time.

He looked down at you for a few seconds, as if trying to find a gap, a crack, a chance to bring you back. But there was none. You sat with your back straight and your fingers slightly trembling, but your eyes were no longer thirsty for him. And in that certainty was your strength.

"Okay," he said dryly, and the word seemed to crunch in the air. He gave you one last glance, trying to look as indifferent as you were, but you didn't even look at him to appreciate it.

Jungkook turned around and walked toward his bike. His figure disappeared among the night lights, and you remained seated, trying not to let the tears break through.

When he was almost out of sight, something stopped him. He looked over his shoulder. You didn't look back at him. And it was this indifference - not fake, not tortured, but real - that made him take a confused breath.

"I didn't cheat on you, this time," he threw into the darkness. "I didn't even touch her."

You couldn't hear him. And those words were empty, because Jungkook had done this many times before, without noticing how each time he left deep cuts in your soul.

He got on his bike without starting the engine, just looking at the empty park. And again he caught himself thinking: why the hell does it hurt?

It was the first night he came back from his trip, when he didn't stay in your bed.

Jungkook did not go home that night. He didn't want to see the walls of his apartment or the mirror where he could look himself in the eye. He drove around the city without a goal. He smoked one cigarette after another. He stopped on a bridge and looked at the black water of the river, which reflected the streetlights.

It was only then that his phone screen lit up with a message from another girl who wrote: "Are you coming to see me tonight?" he realized for the first time that he didn't want to. No. He didn't want to see any of them at all.

A few weeks have passed. No news or messages from you. For some reason, Jungkook was hoping you'd write. That you had made an impulsive decision and would still come back.

When a week passed without you, he was still holding on. He was trying to get back to his normal life, but everything irritated him. He wanted to know another girl to get over you, but none of them evoked any emotion in him. When he talked to some girl, he compared her to you: what would you say? And how did you behave? She didn't have the same hair, didn't have the same intoxicating scent, didn't have the same laugh. There was nothing in any of them that caught his eye.

Jungkook started drinking more, staying out in clubs until the wee hours of the morning just to avoid coming home sober and remembering how he fucked you in his bed, on the kitchen table, in the bathtub. Everything in his apartment reminded him of you. And when he found your things one day, he was completely torn. He shoved his pride up his ass and realized that he feels something for you. And he desperately needs you. Not your body. But your whole self.

He opened his phone and found your number. You signed yourself in his phone as "My babygirl". He typed a message, a simple one: "Hi. Let's meet?" and sent it. But the message was not delivered. He tried a few more times and realized you had blocked him.

Jungkook laughed. Did you really do that? He dialed your number, but the call kept dropping. It made him completely angry. With all this tension and anger, he threw the phone at the wall without controlling his emotions, smashing it to pieces.

Another week passed and Jungkook tried not to think about you again. He immersed himself in work, went on business trips for a few days, and whatever he did, you were always on his mind. And it was starting to drive him crazy.

When he returned to Seoul after a business trip, he went into his apartment and got tired. He went to the shower and stood under the stream of water. His thoughts were chaotic, and his chest felt like it was tearing him apart. Jungkook laughed hysterically. He touched with his hand the wall of the shower stall, his head down. The water hit his back, and he continued to laugh hysterically.

"Fuck..." he gasped out loud. "I'm an asshole," he called himself. "Did I really fucking fall in love with her?"

Jungkook couldn't believe it, but his state and his desire to see you, to at least touch your hand, spoke louder than he did.

Jungkook got out of the shower. He quickly dressed in a black T-shirt, similar black cargo pants, and threw on a jacket. He walked into the garage, passing his car, and got on his bike. Jungkook pulled on his helmet and rode purposefully to your house.

He turned off the engine and walked to the fence. Jungkook was tall and could easily see over it. You lived on a quiet street in a rented house. Jungkook found your bedroom windows without fail. The lights were off. Your whole house was in darkness. You must have been asleep because it was almost midnight.

Jungkook rang the bell several times, but you never showed up at the door. He cursed and went to his bike, which was parked in the shade of a streetlight. He sat down and smoked a cigarette out of nerves.

Jungkook had managed to take a few pulls when a car parked a few houses away. Jungkook's eyebrows furrowed, straining his eyesight. And when he noticed you in the front seat, something broke inside. You were smiling and saying something to the man behind the wheel. Your conversation didn't last long. After a few minutes, you got out of the car and waved goodbye to your friend, or maybe your new boyfriend.

Rage and jealousy clenched his throat as the car disappeared before his eyes, and you waited for it to drive away, headed for your house. You were so beautiful, so calm - Jungkook felt horror. Because someone else had already been in your life.

You had no sooner touched the combination lock than you heard a voice from the outside.

"You found a replacement for me quickly."

You froze when you heard Jungkook's voice. You turned your head and saw him sitting on his bike. He finished his cigarette and threw it on the asphalt, crushing it with his sneaker.

Jungkook smiled and slowly stepped out of the shadows, approaching you. He stopped a step away from you and couldn't help but think that you seemed to have become even more beautiful. Jungkook looked at you without shying. You were dressed in a white blouse, a long skirt with a small slit at the hip and a jacket because it was cool outside. You were wearing high-heeled shoes, which made you a little taller than he was used to looking at you.

"What are you doing here?" you said coldly, not commenting on his previous words.

Jungkook smiled his usual seductive, cocky smile. But inside him was a real hurricane.

"I've come to see you," he said as if it were a completely normal thing. Your eyes darkened. You gave him every indication that you weren't happy to see him, but Jungkook knew you weren't. He could see how nervous you were and how your breathing was quickening.

"I'm not asking why you're here. I'm asking what are you doing here?" you spoke sharply and Jungkook felt his patience to stay away from you and not kiss you was getting shorter.

"Was that your new boyfriend?" Jungkook ignores your question. You click your tongue, but answer the question.

"I'm not that one who’s successful at finding someone to fuck right after a breakup. Or even during a relationship," you pause and then continue, "This is my coworker. We're working on a project together," and you quickly trailed off, obviously catching justifying yourself to Jungkook. And he liked your answer and your justifying.

Jungkook smiled even wider. He took half a step closer to you, forcing you to take the same half step back. Now there was only half an arm's length distance between you. Your back was almost against the fence door, but you tried to keep your composure. Unlike Jungkook, who had already lost his patience with being away from you.

"Did you miss me?" his voice was velvety and low.

"What do you want?" you asked coldly, but not so confidently. And Jungkook heard it. He caught the way your lower lip trembled, the way your hands clung to your jacket to keep it from shaking.

"I don't know if I want anything... except you," he admitted honestly. His eyes, normally dark and deep, as if pulling you in, were now burning. Your eyes darted between his, and he bet you were struck by these words, but you suddenly laughed. Mockingly, quietly.

"And when did you understand that? After another girl? Or when I blocked you everywhere?"

"When I imagined you with someone else. And I couldn't stand it," he didn't look away. You huffed and turned away.

"That sounds nice. But it seems too late for such words. It's over between us," you said without any emotion in your voice.

Jungkook's face did not flinch, but something changed in it. In his eyes. In the chewing of his jaw. For a split second, Jungkook felt like he was breaking down-but he immediately pulled himself together again.

"It can't be too late," he argued. "You love me. Your feelings couldn't have disappeared in two weeks." Jungkook moved a little closer.

You angrily turned your head toward him, not realizing that he was closer than you wanted him to be.

"Shut up," you said threateningly. "Don't you dare say I love you. You don't deserve these feelings!" Jungkook pushed you against the door, and only now you realized how close he was. "Let me go, get out," you protested. Jungkook put one hand on the door and held you close with the other. He breathed in your scent, the same scent he missed so much, the same scent that intoxicated him.

"I don't want to leave. And I don't want you to hate me. I want you to love me, even if I don't deserve it," he said against your lips. You froze, looking at his lips. You were breathing fast and hard, and these sounds excited Jungkook. He leaned down and kissed you. He couldn't hold back any longer.

Your mouth was warm and sweet, and your hand clutched the fabric on his chest. He kissed you greedily, emotionally, without any self-control - as if these two weeks without you were an eternity for him. As if every second without you caused physical pain.

"I was an asshole," he whispered through the kiss. "But... please, let's try again. Start from the beginning."

You trembled in his arms. Your heart was beating so hard that it seemed like it was about to jump out of your chest.

"I'm afraid..." you confessed quietly. "I'm afraid you're going to hurt me again..."

"I won't," Jungkook interrupted you, cupping your face in his hands. "And if I do anything to hurt you again, I'll disappear. I'll be gone forever. Just... give me a chance. Just one. I'll make it right."

You looked away, full of tears, but Jungkook touched your lips again. His kiss was gentle, almost pleading, as if it contained his entire vow. And you gave in. When your lips parted, you whispered:

"Jungkook... make it right."

That was enough. He dug into your lips again, with more hunger. You entered the house. As soon as the door closed behind you, Jungkook pounced on you without another word. His hands were everywhere: he pulled off your jacket, unbuttoned your blouse, whispered in your ear that he missed you, not giving you a second to think.

His kisses were bold, deep, and with every second, all the pain and longing that had accumulated over the weeks came out of him. He undressed you right in the hallway, as if he couldn't wait any longer... Because he really couldn't.

When your skirt fell to the floor, you were left in nothing but your underwear. He pushed you against the wall, kissing you without stopping. Jungkook pulled away from your lips for a moment to look at you. He looked at your body with greed. His hands reflexively reached for your breasts, and without taking off your bra, he pulled one of them out and smiled. He couldn't help but rejoice in the moment that you his again.

Jungkook looked up at you, and he kept looking at you with a winning smile as he reached for your nipple.

When his wet tongue touched your aroused nipple, he was ready to moan. He adored the taste of your skin. Jungkook played around, licking your nipple, making your heavy breathing turn into moans. Your other nipple got plenty of attention, too. And when Jungkook wanted to kiss you again, his hand went down between your legs at the same time.

He easily slipped his palm under the fabric of your lace thong and touched the sensitive center, pushing apart your folds. You gasped and closed your lips as he pressed on your clit. Jungkook ran his finger up and down it, with gentle, blissful movements. A few more strokes and his finger plunged into your passage, feeling the tightness and wetness he had missed like crazy.

Jungkook froze for a second, two. He could feel your flesh clenching around his finger, and this contact made him lose the last vestiges of self-control.

His gaze slid down your face, stopped at your half-open lips, from which a soft moan escaped-sweet, intoxicating, just as he remembered. His heart was beating wildly.

"You don't know how much I missed this... you," he whispered, slowly removing his finger and gently running it along your thigh, leaving a wet trail. "Every night I imagined touching you again. In my dreams. In the shower. During meetings. Even when I was working."

His fingers dove under your panties again, this time along with his kisses. And when he'd had enough of your plump lips, Jungkook knelt down, never taking his eyes off you. He slowly pulled off your underwear, letting it fall to your ankles. He took off your shoes and kicked them to the side.

"Do you know what was killing me?" he looked up, holding his breath. "That I didn't know if I'd ever be able to kneel before you like this again."

You held your breath at his words. Those words affected you, and Jungkook could see it. And he was really afraid that you would never let him touch you again.

His tongue touched your most tender part - gently at first, stretching out the moment, as if enjoying every second of it. Then harder, wider, more rhythmic. You screamed and leaned back against the wall, clutching his hair as if you were holding on to your last bit of sanity.

Jungkook worked his tongue with such precision, as if it were his only meaning in life. His fingers penetrated you again-synchronized with the movements of his tongue-slowly, deeply, each thrust like a confession.

"You're mine." His voice was muffled but confident. "And you can't leave me anymore."

Your body shook. Your hair fell over your shoulders. Your chest rose in an accelerated rhythm. And as the orgasm grew, as your every cell screamed for pleasure, Jungkook stopped. Just for a moment. To look at you. To feel it with you - with all the depth. You were breathing heavily, looking up at him.

"I want to be inside you," he said, standing up, kissing you on the lips, leaving a trace of your own taste on them. "Now."

And you couldn't say no. Because your whole body was screaming yes.

Your hands unbuckled his belt, your fingers shaking, and when his cock came free-hot, hard, full-you ran your palm over it. He closed his eyes and moaned your name.

"Y/N... fuck... I want you," he leaned his hand on the wall, enjoying your movements. "Mine," he moaned in your hair somewhere near your ear, "Only fucking mine."

He lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist. He carried you over to the couch, which was the closest comfortable place to fuck you.

Jungkook laid you down. He quickly freed himself from all the clothes he was wearing and approaching you without taking his eyes off you, he spread your legs. He pressed the head of his cock against your entrance and entered you with one deep, slightly sharp, impatient thrust, and the moment seemed timeless. You both froze.

Your nails dug into his strong shoulders, and your breaths intertwined in the darkness.

"God..." he whispered. "You were always meant for me."

He thrust his hips, feeling the instant pleasure of the tightness of your pussy.

Jungkook started moving slowly, pulling each thrust with sweet pleasure, as if he wanted this moment to last forever. His gaze never left your face - you looked as if you had just returned home after a long, painful journey. Your eyes sparkled, your lips were slightly open, and with each new penetration you dug your fingers deeper into his back.

"You're so... tight," he whispered, squeezing your hips. "For me, it's all for me, baby..."

His movements became deeper. Sharper. And everything in him was screaming - not just about desire, but about the need to restore the connection that seemed to have been lost.

You responded to his every thrust. Your hips arched to meet him, your neck opened for his kisses. He kissed it greedily, leaving wet marks and light bites. You felt your body tremble again - this orgasm was coming like a storm, and Jungkook knew it. He felt your every shudder, your every breath.

"Tell me..." he mumbled, not stopping, "Do you still love me?" he wanted to hear it. He needed to know that you hadn't lost those feelings. Your behavior and the fact that you had forgiven him so quickly had already answered that question, but he wanted... he wanted to hear it again.

"I love you," you breathe out. "I love you, Kook." you said, no doubt in your voice. Jungkook was happy. He wanted to confess too. But he didn't know if he really did. He didn't know if he knew the feeling the way you knew it. He stopped and came closer to your face. Inches separated your lips.

"I think I do, too," he said in a trembling voice. "I love you too."

Your eyes instantly filled with tears and they flowed down your face. It was the first time in six months of relationship that Jungkook told you that he loved you. And he only realized that he loved you when you left. He realized that only your warmth was the one he always wanted to return to and stay in forever.

He made a deep thrust with his hips that made you scream. He continued to move sharply, bringing you deeply to the edge.

"I'm sorry," he said as he fucked you, "I'm sorry baby. I've been an asshole. I've caused you so much pain. I'll make it all right… I'll make it right," he promised again. He spoke as sincerely as he could. He wanted you to believe him. That these were not empty words, but a promise he was going to keep.

Jungkook changed his angle - he lifted your legs higher, placing them on his shoulders, and he thrust deeper, right to the point that made you moan with a force he hadn't heard before. You bit your lip, but he grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

"Don't be silent, I want to hear you," he wheezed. His voice sounded like thunder, low and raspy. "I want to hear you cum for me."

And you couldn't hold back. Your walls clenched around his cock, and you arched in orgasm, losing control. He caught your every breath as he continued to move, taking you through wave after wave.

But Jungkook didn't want to stop. Not yet. He hadn't had enough. His cock was still hard, aroused to the point of excitement. He flipped you over onto your stomach, gently but firmly. And before you knew it, he was entering you from behind again. His hands gripped your hips and then slid down to your breasts, squeezing them tightly in time with his thrusts.

"Fuck... it feels so good inside you, my love. I could live here forever," he growled behind you. You moaned as you felt his big cock from a new angle. It felt like he was penetrating you deeper than before.

You could feel your body coming to the limit again, even though you had just felt the discharge. His moans merged with yours. His pace increased. Jungkook wanted to mark you. To prove that he had a right to you, as he always had. He stopped, halfway out, and leaned down to whisper in your ear:

"I'm going to come inside you."

You didn't object. You couldn't. You didn't have the strength. Only the desire. And Jungkook was glad you didn't object. And when he entered you again, quickly and ruthlessly, you felt his hands tremble and his body tense. You came first. Jungkook felt it well. Your loud and long moan and the walls as if they wanted to strangle him.

"Y/N... I..." he groaned, and with one last deep thrust, he spilled inside you, leaving you both completely exhausted.

He didn't pull back immediately after that. He stayed inside you, trembling, breathing into your neck. His body was still covered in a light sweat, and his heart was pounding in unison with yours.

After a few minutes, when his breathing became calm, he came out of you. Jungkook didn't let you get up, he lay down next to you, hugging you. The couch was narrow, and in order for both of you to fit on it, you had to almost lie down on top of Jungkook. He put his arm around you, and you laid your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Your leg touched his thigh without touching his crotch. You both lay there naked and exhausted, and incredibly content.

His hand gently slid down your back, as if trying to calm the residual tremors. He didn't say anything, just breathed with you, as if he was afraid to disturb this fragile harmony. Jungkook leaned down and kissed you on the forehead, gently, not at all like he had just made love to you. His lips lingered, and you felt him sigh, heavily, like a man who had just let go of something very heavy.

"I've never had anything like this," he whispered. "I didn't even think I could feel this."

You looked up at him, and he looked back.

"I was really afraid I'd lost you," he said quietly. He had never spoken so sincerely before. He had always given the impression of strength, dominance, control-but now he was just a guy who had just allowed himself to be loved for the first time.

"I'm not leaving anymore," you whispered, touching his cheek. "Not unless you destroy everything we have."

He hugged you tighter.

"I won't do it again," Jungkook said firmly. "I promise. Even if I have to change everything in the whole damn world."

Silence fell over the room again. Only your breaths and the warmth of your bodies remained. His hand rested on your stomach. An unconscious gesture. But you noticed it. And your heart sank.

"What?" he asked when you tensed a little.

"Nothing," you smiled, closing your eyes. "It's just... if we can keep this together, nothing else will matter."

Jungkook kissed you again. Gently, softly, like a seal, he sealed the promise. A new beginning awaited you, and you both hoped for a happy ending.

📝 Author's note:

Hello my dear Army. It's been a while since I posted my work here. I wrote to you that I am going through a difficult time in my life. And it's really hard for me mentally (especially mentally) and physically. I don't want to deepen you into my problems, the only thing I will say is that I will feel better very soon because I will visit a psychologist who will help me unwind the tangle of thoughts and nerves that I have wrapped up 🧶🤭

I promised all of you the story to the thousand followers on my blog. I even announced the cover with the title "Control Me". But as you can see, this is not the story I promised you 🥺

I'll try to explain it briefly. I wanted to write "Control Me" for you, but I didn't like it the whole time I was writing it. I gave it read to my sister Marichka, who is also a good writer, I consider her the best writer for me, and she evaluated it objectively. And she told me that such a story has a strong plot and it cannot be contained even in 15 thousand words for one story. She advised me to focus on "One Night..." and "No Mercy" and to write "Control Me" after these two stories.

Why wrote this fanfic like a series, because for CM I came up with a plot where Y/N will be a psychologist who specializes in sexual disorders. Jungkook will seek her help because he suffers from a phobia of emotional and physical intimacy. That is, in short, it will not get aroused from women (although physiologically everything will be fine). That's why it can't be summed up in one story. Because the process of his treatment is going to be long. That's why the story has to be unfolded. By the way, let me know if you like this idea? And should I write it?

And as for story which I wrote for you now 💗 It appeared in my head literally in a moment when I was listening to The Rose's song "Back to me" ❤️‍🔥 This story is about a love that was originally a default. It's about a guy who thought she would always be waiting for him and a girl who finally learned to let go, even though her heart screams otherwise.

It's about the gloomy, unattainable Jungkook, who didn't know what love was until he was left without it. It's about a deep sexual chemistry that becomes a language they use to tell each other: I'm still here, I still want you, I still love you. And at the same time, it's a story about correcting mistakes when it seems too late. And you know, even if this story is very "bookish", I believe that there are boys who have a many women, and when they meet the one they are ready to change for her 🥰 I am such a hopeless romantic and dreamer 🤭 But no one forbids it 💗

I will add at the end that I still feel bad and I don't know if I will have the inspiration and time to update "One Night..." and "No Mercy" in the near future, but I will try to do my best 🙏🏻 I really ask for your patience 💜 It is important for me that you stay with me 😣😭

Dear Army, thank you again for the thousand subscribers, thank you for your love and attention to me. I bow to you for every kind word you say, it is important and valuable to me 🤭❤️‍🔥 So let's be together forever 💜 Borahe each of you 🙏🏻💘

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ hell isn't a place, it's a person ]❜

ft. hwang in-ho x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ after the failed rebellion, the frontman takes you for his own┊2.4k words

contains: smut!! dom in-ho & sub reader┊extremely dubious consent due to drugging (via needle, sedative & aphrodisiacs), yandere in-ho, obsessive possessive behaviors, unspecified but obviously legal age gap, guilt & jealousy, receiving oral, unprotected piv, cockwarming, rushed/abrupt ending 

➤ author's note: fuck the ending of squid game and fuck the ending of this fic

now that the revolt had been squashed under his polished shoe like a stubborn roach, he wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about it all. the past few days were meant for him to keep an eye on you and seong gi-hun after you two teamed up to bring an end to the games, but he found himself forming a bond with his teammates that grew stronger as they overcame all of the obstacles thrown their way together. you all made him smile and laugh in ways he had forgotten how to, bringing warmth to his ice-cold heart and making him forget, even if it was just for a moment, the real reason why he was there. despite being the orchestrator of these sadistically savage games, he managed to find his soul that he thought was ripped away from him before, and it made him wonder late at night if there was a possibility of redemption.  

well, obviously, there wasn’t anymore, not when the pastel walls were painted with red and the grounds were littered with the bodies of the rebels who considered him to be their friend. at least they don’t know the truth of his betrayal, no, that’s something he has to carry on his own. the fight was over before it even started with how outnumbered they were, but they certainly made a mess of things before going out with a bang as the automated voice over the speakers called out their numbers when the guards were scanning them with their devices for signs of life.

the only one left alive was you, as per his orders, but you looked dead enough with the blood of your comrades splattered across your face and your entire body stiller than a statue. there was a little barely noticeable mark on your neck, showing where you had been pricked with a sedative after putting up quite a fight. unfortunately, you were no match for the guard who was holding the syringe when it came to wrestling. he’s sure it’s less painful than a bullet to the skull, but you might have preferred to die alongside the others rather than suffer the fate he had in store for you. you look so peaceful when you were knocked out, like you hadn’t just spent the past half-hour fighting for your life, a look he’s never seen before when you’ve been nothing but on edge ever since you got here. 

it’s pretty, and a shame that he’ll never see it again.

by the time you come back to reality, you feel sluggish and stiff, like your limbs were wooden planks that were rotten underwater. everything was hazy, and there was a nonstop ringing in your ears every time you tried to raise your head to examine your surroundings. there was a burning candle somewhere in the background, but you couldn’t pinpoint what the scent was, if it was fruity or floral, or where it was when all of the lights were a dim orange. all you could feel was silk, the expensive kind too: silk pillowcases, silk bedsheets, and a silk dress you don’t remember putting on. the stink of sweat and death that clung to you for the past few days was gone too, replaced with a pleasant vanilla as all the filth was washed off your body, leaving your skin in a soft state. it was all so opulent, like how you used to dream of waking up in the morning surrounded by all the luxuries money could buy and not a single care in the world. it was too bad you felt ill in a way you couldn’t explain, feeling warmth like a fever coursing throughout your veins and a strange ache blooming in your core that confused you.

the need only seemed to intensify with every passing second, and as you turned to your side, all you could do was lazily rub your thighs together. your breathing grew more labored as your hand reached down to the source of the heat, dipping your fingers in as in a poor attempt to soothe it. your movements are uncoordinated as if you had forgotten how to do it, like all of the experience from late nights spent alone or after an underperforming boyfriend was thrown out the window.

you heard the faint sound of a door unlocking and swinging open followed by footsteps, repeating as the door was locked behind them. the person stood at the foot of the bed as ominously as a sleep paralysis demon, tall, dark, and handsome, unsure of what to do about your current situation. not quite unsure though, more like hesitant.

“young-il?”

he hates the way you called out that name, so light and airy, full of trust and relief now that there was someone you recognized. you didn’t even care about the embarrassing state you were in, you were just happy that he was there with you. you had blind faith in him and believed he was a good person, there was no reason for you to believe otherwise. as one of your teammates, he always helped protect you during the games, defended you from a few male players who wanted to pick a fight with you because of rejection, and gave you some of his food to ensure that you never had to go hungry and had the energy to do your best.

it’s not him you were happy to see, it was young-il. you saw the kind older man who cracked jokes you would only laugh at out of pity, not the real him, who you would probably be screeching at and finding a way to attack him despite all of the physical difficulties you needed to overcome. 

is he jealous? what a stupid word for a man of his age and occupation, and a stupid sentiment too— jealous of the stupid alter ego he made up just so that he could fit in more seamlessly. you would never feel anything but pure hatred towards him unless he maintains the facade. he did all of this and kept you alive because he wanted to have something with you, something that wouldn’t be possible outside of the games, but he was foolishly naive to believe that. it was going to haunt the two of you for the rest of your mortal lives, but at least it was going to be spent together, whether you liked it or not.

“young-il,” you called out to him again, breaking him out of his thoughts, “could you please help me?”

you didn’t even know what you were asking from him, if you wanted him to help you figure out what was going on, or if you wanted him to help you alleviate your arousal. although it didn’t really matter what you had intended when you said it, there was only one thing he was willing to help you and it wasn’t the former. 

the mattress sank under him as he joined you on the bed, his movements slow and careful as if he were approaching a wounded wild animal. you looked confused about his clothing, why he was in a pitch black coat rather than the teal tracksuit you were given at the beginning, but didn’t question it since you were also dressed in something other than your usual clothing. his hand reached over to your forehead, measuring the temperature radiating off of your body, before cupping your face with his palm. 

you instinctively nuzzled into his touch, panting softly. the aphrodisiacs he had given you were really starting to kick in the presence of another, making you all pliant and needy for him like he dreamed of having you as, easy to influence however he pleased. “help me, please.”

he didn’t say anything but moved to do as you asked, situating himself between your legs as well as holding you under his arms and his intense gaze that was wandering all over your body, drinking in the sight of you looking up at him with those doe eyes he could drown in and your willingness to submit to him. it’s only because of the drugs affecting your mind, he knows that, but if he ignores that little voice in his head that reminds him that you would never love the real him, he could pretend you do and are admiring him as in-ho rather than young-il.

you kissed him first, pulling him towards you as his lips crashed onto yours, your limbs trapping him in your grasp as your arms wrapped around his neck and your legs around his. you wanted him in such a way that didn’t feel possible, like you would die if you didn’t have him right now to quench that insatiable thirst that was drying up your throat. what an irredeemable monster he is to be getting off to your desperation that he caused, but he would be an even bigger one if he left you to suffer alone.

“please, i need you so bad right now…”

“you need to be patient. i want to take my time with you.”

“no,” your whisper strained to a whine, “i want you now, please—”

his eyes trailed down your torso until they landed on your baby pink panties, an evident wet patch of arousal leaving a sticky, honeyed mess in between your thighs as you spread them a bit wider for him. he could smell the sweetness mixed with the soft vanilla scent from the bath the guards had given you, driving him insane to the point that he could feel himself salivating like a damn dog and losing all restraint as he shoved his face in for a taste.

you let out a mewl when his tongue made contact with your heat, laying flat between the folds with his nose nudging at your delicate clit as your fingers tangled with his dark locks and tugged on them to push him closer. normally, he wouldn’t have allowed you to be so bossy and exert any semblance of control over him. he would have halted all of his movements and tied you up to the bed as a reminder of who was really in charge, but decided against it. it’s not like you would have listened anyway, not when the desire of the flesh was overtaking any ounce of rational thinking you might have had left in that pretty head of yours.

all the while, you called out his name through frivolous cries and moans, the loveliest sounds from the song of the angel, only for you to shatter the illusion by calling out that cursed name instead. young-il, young-il, young-il—

“stop calling me that,” he hissed, voice low and dangerous, his hot breath fanning over your spit-slicked cunt and sending shivers down your spine, both at the sensation and at his tone of voice. you looked at him in confusion, understandably, but you seemed to be more annoyed at the fact that he stopped more than anything.

“okay, okay, i won’t, i won’t call you that,” you rambled, “just please don’t stop, please.”

needy, needy, needy, so good awfully needy and desperate for him to bring you to your peak. it might be one of his favorite sides he’s seen in you so far, before the side of you at complete peace from before, after the side of you displaying fiery rage and determination to help your friends out during the rebellion. now that he’s had his way, he’ll be seeing this every single night, keeping you as a companion for him to spoil and admire, away from your previous fate as a debt-ridden nobody. 

he continued with his ministrations, tongue-fucking your tight little slit and holding you down to prevent you from rocking against his face. there was a mixture of clear fluids starting to trickle down his chin and onto the sheets, but he paid it no mind, focused on nothing but making you climax so that he could finally take you for himself. his cock was rock-hard inside his trousers, oozing at the tip and clinging like cobwebs all over the inner fabric, wanting nothing more than to throw your legs over his shoulders and fuck you until you were leaking with his load. 

you’re quickly reduced to a mess, melting like putty in his hands and falling apart at the seams, head thrown back into the plush pillow and unable to stop yourself from squirming even though his fingers are digging into your sides as a warning. you’ve never felt anything like this before, a pleasure so intense you thought ecstasy would have been a better word to describe it. you chalked it up to his age and experience rather than knowing the extent of his obsession, but it didn’t matter to you what the reason was. all that mattered was that he made you finish, thighs trembling with a loud cry as your cunt gushed all over his lower face. 

he wasted no time in pulling down the waist belt of his slacks, allowing his cock to spring free and lining it up with your entrance. you couldn’t quite see him from this angle as your vision was covered by the black of his suit jacket, but you could certainly feel his size as his fat tip slowly started to bully its way into you. even though you were so soaked, there was still a noticeable stretch that was painful for the first few seconds before dissipating into pure bliss.

your breathing grew even more labored than it was before, letting out little pants as you tried to adjust to his thickness. he was getting impatient now that he’s started, bullying his way into you with shallow thrusts until he finally bottomed out with a groan. this is the closest he’ll ever be to heaven in this life and after, with his length buried in your warmth so deeply that he could feel his outline if he pressed down on your stomach. 

“... let’s stay like this for a bit…” he decided. he wanted to stay inside you like this forever, or at least for the rest of the night, appreciating every inch of you with the heavy head of his cock resting against your sweet spot and your velvety walls twitching around him. you didn’t protest, but you didn’t really have an option to say otherwise anyway, all you could do was fall asleep in his arms, blissfully unaware of what he had in store for you.

[bellatrixscurls]

group activities iii

part one | part two

pairing : reader x slytherin gang x the golden trio.

warnings : smut - oral (f receiving), teasing, dirty talk, lots of pet names, female reader, draco is an arrogant prick sometimes, talk of virginity, truth or dare games, kissing, voldemort. lmk if i missed any!

a/n : this surprised me as well, i was gonna write some tom x reader smut in this chapter but oh well. hope you enjoy!

────── ☾ ──────

“and what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

ron’s voice was filled with pure hatred, but you couldn’t really react. you stood on the bed, limp, sore. to be fair, you could barely keep your eyes open - and it wasn’t much before they closed and you drifted off.

🤍

when you woke up, which seemed to be quite a while later judging by the darkness piercing through the windows, you spotted tom sitting on your armchair, his eyes carefully scanning the room before he noticed that you had awakened.

“passed out a bit there, have you?” the corner of his lips tilted up, and you couldn’t help but return his smile.

you didn’t know where the others were, but you were grateful that it was him there with you. “is it dinner time yet? i’m really hungry” yawning, you sat up, looking around the room as if still trying to adjust to the artificial light.

and then it happened again. that flicker in his eyes and the way his smirk turned into a soft smile. he didn’t get to say anything, because you decided just then that you’d point it out.

“why do you do that?” your voice came out soft, too soft for your liking. “sometimes you look at me like this and- it sends a shiver up my spine.”

tom was genuinely speechless in that moment, which he never was. he always had some snarky remark or dry chastisement. not now.

he just kept looking at you and not saying a word, which made you go crazy with nerves. shrugging, he looked away for a moment before turning back to you. “i look at you just the way i look at everybody else. it’s nothing special.”

ouch. because yes, you agreed not to speak of these things when you’d entered the ‘group’, but it felt too obvious. you were almost always lost in his eyes, but found a way to see through him. you knew when he would lose composure, and pretend it never happened.

“fine” you cleared your throat, looking at your body and thanking whoever cleaned you up and dressed you, because you really didn’t wanna have to put up with tom’s ‘indifference’. you stood up, brushing a hand over your skirt, before heading towards the door. “i don’t care anyway.”

🤍

after dinner, that was quiet and tense, you all decided to go back to the slytherin common room. nobody was holding hands, draco wasn’t all over ron, enzo avoided hermione’s eyes and vice versa. and to add to it, tom was ignoring you. he never ignored you.

entering the common room, you all sat down, some on the floor, some on the couch, some just leaning against the walls.

you felt guilty.

“i’m sorry we did it without you guys” you looked at the golden trio, and their faces seemed to soften.

ron kneeled in front of you, his fingers grasping your jaw ever so gently. “you didn’t know, peach. it’s tradition at this point, we all want to be there when someone new comes” he turned to glare at the others. “but they knew.”

“i challenged them” you spoke softly, and he continued stroking your cheek, cocking his head to the side as he listened quietly. “can we please forget about it? i feel bad, i don’t want to be the reason you guys don’t speak to one another.”

your ears perked up when you heard someone sigh. theo. “principessa” his eyes moved from your eyes to your lips, then back to your eyes. “you’re right. we didn’t want you guys to feel left out. it just happened so suddenly, and she looked so soft, her skirt had ridden up- you have to understand” whined theo as he looked desperately at harry, leaning his head against his shoulder.

“we understand” hermione was the one to speak this time, and your face lit up when you heard her voice. you had noticed the distance between her and enzo, and you hoped you were not the reason to it. “but we want to be there when she loses her virginity, maybe we’ll even make you watch without touching… you know, as payback.”

wincing at the mention of your virginity, you hid your face into ron’s neck, and his muscular arms wrapped around you instinctively. you felt him laugh, his chest vibrating against your body, making you flush even more. “ronnie” you whimpered helplessly, face beet red.

“oh, look at you, peach” he tsked, brushing a few stray hairs off your face. “let’s not torture the poor girl anymore, we don’t wanna pressure her; how about we play a game?”

the atmosphere seemed to shift for the better once ron mentioned playing a game, and everyone came up with an idea, but at the end, they stuck with the basic one - truth or dare.

“oh i fucking love this” you shook your head at draco as he threw an arm around your neck, keeping you close as he spun the bottle. it kept spinning until it landed on, surprisingly, mattheo.

draco’s grin widened and mattheo pressed his tongue into the inside of his cheek, his lips threatening to tilt up. “truth or dare, riddle?”

“you know me, malfoy. give me the best dare you’ve got.”

“kiss me.”

it all happened so fast, the yearning, the kissing, the biting. their aggressiveness made you weak in the knees - maybe it was the way mattheo pressed his body into draco’s, forcing the older boy to hold himself up with one hand on the floor, or the way draco devoured his mouth, the need to be so impossibly close to one another.

finally, pulling away, they gasped for breath, draco fixing his hair before returning to his spot next to you. you could tell that he was still shaken up, both of them were.

“hot” blaise mouthed to you and your eyes widened, earning a satisfied smirk from the boy.

“my turn” it was mattheo who spun the bottle this time, his eyes glaring at it as if he was trying to control it with his mind.

tom shook his head slightly, giving him a disapproving look. “only i can control it.”

“and i’m an occlumens” he defended, ignoring the bottle that had already landed on you. (occlumens = one who is able to close their mind against legilimency)

“thank merlin for that” his brother scoffed and he rolled his eyes, looking at you for the first time after your ‘argument’, albeit accidentally.

mattheo grinned like a cheshire cat as his eyes finally landed on you, and you bit the inside of your cheek. “y/n/n, i dare you to… make enzo blush.”

the room fell silent. your brows furrowed.

“i didn’t pick dare.”

“i don’t like the tone” he looked at you with mock offense, a hand clutching his chest. “besides, you should thank me. i could’ve made you do it to tommy here” he shrugged and you noticed tom looking at you from the corner of your eye. “merlin knows that one doesn’t have a heart.”

you shrank in your seat, completely ignoring tom’s intense gaze, instead focusing on enzo who was siting right beside you, a sweet, comforting smile adorning his face. “it’s okay, y/n/n. it doesn’t take much to make me blush anyway.”

“ready, then?” you looked at mattheo and he nodded fervently, eyes scanning you whole.

smiling, you leaned in, whispering in enzo’s ear, one hand caressing his shoulders and going up his neck. “and what does it take to make you blush then, sweet boy?” you felt bold, the adrenaline becoming too much. “hm? a kiss? or maybe i could just tease you a bit. tell you what i wanna do to you later.”

enzo gulped and it was almost audible, his hand moving up your thigh, but you still not touching him, nothing more than a hand on his shoulders. “tell me. please, tell me.”

you almost giggled. almost. you felt comfortable around enzo and you really enjoyed seeing him flush. “i want to have you between my legs, to feel your mouth devour me again. i want you to make me so wet for you that when you put it in, i’m all nice and ready for you, baby” you whisper just enough for him to hear, your lips pressing against the shell of his ear before tugging at it, causing the boy to whimper, and everyone reacted to it - gasps and shocked expressions all around, but you didn’t mind. neither did he.

“i bet it would slip right in” you leaned against him, nose against his cheek - his now burning cheek. you smirked.

leaning back against the sofa, you exhaled proudly, and the room erupted into laughter and loud chatter; everyone was either teasing enzo, congratulating you, or both. mostly both.

tom was sitting across from you, and his expression was different than you would’ve believed. he had a proud smirk on his face, his lips twitching as he kept eye contact with you, and your boldness went out the window again. “tease” his lips didn’t move, but you heard his voice in your head. you chose to ignore it until he spoke again. “making him believe he stands a chance at that. you’re so cruel.”

you jolted up, thankful that everyone was still teasing enzo and mocking him. “get out of my head” you whispered dangerously, your heart pounding in your chest.

“you know i could start ignoring you” he whispered too, and this time, his lips moved. “but i’ll still be there. i cannot make you stop thinking about me.”

and there it was again, that damn smirk.

choosing to ignore him, you turned back to the group, your chin resting on top of enzo’s shoulder, the simple gesture making him melt into you, his back resting against you. “that was hot.”

his voice was so small that it made you chuckle before placing a soft kiss on the side of his neck. you didn’t say anything, there was no need to.

everyone went back to the game and after some time it was mattheo’s turn again. oh, merlin.

each of you knew of his intentions, his urge to see all of you pressed up against each other, kissing, biting, blushing. the boy was a menace.

and what was even better? this time, the other end of the bottle pointed at tom, his dear brother.

you could practically see the disapproval on his face after hearing mattheo’s dare. because, of course, when it came to mattheo, the only option was dare.

“i’ll give you a simple one, brother” he smirked, “owl father… and tell him you love him.”

the air shifted and you froze in place. you studied tom closely; his jaw was clenched, and he seemed upset. at least upset. he looked down for a few moments and you could practically see the gears turning in his head. then his eyes lit up.

“surely, brother” he pulled a parchment out of his bag that was thrown under the table, a sign that he had stayed behind studying before dinner. your shoulders released all tension when you saw the way his mood changed. you really thought he would be offended, as tom was not one to speak much of his father.

after a few minutes of writing and paying the owl to send the parchment to his father, the game continued for a few more minutes, before everyone decided that it was too late already and you all headed to bed.

🤍

the next morning was quiet, way too quiet. usually mornings were loud and obnoxious, making you want to make a hole and hide in it until the weekend arrived. only now, you realised that the weekend had arrived indeed.

the clock on your nightstand read 07:34 am, and you groaned into your pillow, cussing you out for not being able to sleep any longer. but after your little drama scene, you decided that it was best to use the time you could’ve been sleeping - studying.

you showered and got ready for the day, then gathered your ‘defense against the dark arts’ books and made your way down to the common room. since mostly everyone was sleeping, you figured you would just study there instead of the library, which was fairly far from the slytherin dorms.

just as you put your books down on the table, you heard shuffling and you didn’t dare raise your eyes towards the sound, you just couldn’t.

the voice that came next made you shiver, your chest warming with relief. theo. “what are you doing so early on a saturday morning, amorina?” his voice was still thick with sleep, leaving you in complete awe when you finally took a proper look at him. he was clad in his quidditch uniform, hair messier than usual and fists rubbing at his eyes in a failed attempt to wake up properly.

you smiled and patted the seat beside you on the large green sofa. theo sat down silently, letting out a helpless whine that made you laugh. "i couldn't sleep, so i thought I'd do a bit more studying," he hummed, fiddling with the hem of your sleeves between his thumb and middle finger. "is draco making you practice early again this weekend?"

theo whined again, clutching his chest, his eyes still only half open. “he is. i’ll give you an even better one. he wanted to start at six, but blaise pretended to feel sick and draco didn’t want his nauseous ass anywhere near his new nimbus.”

the words were emphasised with a dramatic roll of his eyes and you tried your best to keep yourself from giggling, but he was just too cute. “i’m glad my misery is amusing to you” he pouted and you couldn’t help but kiss his pout once. twice. causing theo’s eyes to widen before he grinned dopily, leaning in to kiss you again, this time softly biting on your lower lip.

“blaise was right when he said you tasted good” he licked his lips as he pulled away, his hand still holding you close to his body by your waist. “you know, enzo said that too and-”

“perv” you swatted at his chest and he chuckled, standing up as the other boys appeared as well, a furious draco leading them.

he looked completely exasperated, and judging by the looks on the other boys’ faces, you could tell that he was chastising them again.

“we could’ve been here two hours ago had you not faked being sick” he glared at blaise, who was completely unbothered, and threw his arms in the air. “and you don’t even care!”

“draco, i don’t think waking us before the sun is up is a great idea” mattheo groaned as he fell onto the armchair across from you, his eyes lighting up when he noticed you. “y/n/n! what’s with you here on this fine morning?” he spoke brightly before he turned to draco who was still angry as ever, whispering. “i think my morning just got better.”

you rolled your eyes playfully, softening when draco passed by to kiss your forehead, his arm tightening around your shoulders for a second. “i’m trying to study, but obviously not really succeeding. how many more of you are there?”

“just enzo” blaise shrugged, looking up at their dorm room door as if expecting him to come down any second, which he never did. “but he is a bit under the weather these days.”

“you say under the weather, i say he received a letter from his mommy this morning” mattheo spoke carelessly, shrugging when you gave him a confused look. then his eyes widened the slightest bit. “oh i got one too, i almost forgot” he pulled a letter from his quidditch bag, unfolding it and laying it flat on the table.

then, you got goosebumps. it started speaking in a very distinct voice, one that you knew all too well. voldemort.

“Dear son,

I appreciate the sentiment at the bottom of the letter, which nearly compelled me to fly to Hogwarts myself forthwith and cast a hex upon you.

Pray tell, do you have a fancy for men? As if I did not have enough in my hands already. I beg of you to steady yourself, lest I find you a suitable match in the first gullible pure-blooded young lady I encounter. I trust, however, that you know that she would not bear the name Y/l/n.

Yours affectionately,

Father.”

you gasped and your eyes widened, everyone looking at mattheo as if he had grown two heads. his father’s tone was stern, dry and unamused. whilst the atmosphere was tense, the word affectionately at the end made enzo, who was coming down of his room finally, inevitably snicker. “wow, you win. i thought i had a story to tell, but wow.”

but that did not phase mattheo, who was always about not making his father upset, not really encouraging his unique pastimes either. “how did he find out though? i thought hogwarts was the safest place there is.”

you rubbed his back, as the others tried to encourage him and calm him down. but it was no use, mattheo was determined to find out who was his father’s spy. and you didn’t think he’d actually find out who it was out of a castle full of people with questionable families, including yours. but he did. “tom” he spoke lowly, and you turned, thinking that tom was coming down as well, but he wasn’t.

his eyes were full of rage, fists clenched as he strolled towards his room, draco following closely, ensuring that nothing more than a few words would be thrown around.

one minute passed, then two, then five. you could hear their bickering and mattheo’s furious screaming from the common room, and it went on until it didn’t. until a death silence settled upon the castle, until the door opened and mattheo was carrying draco.

he was hurt. and the worst part of it all? he expressed nothing beyond the occasional heart-wrenching whimpers of pure pain. tom trailed behind them, an unmistakable expression of genuine guilt etched on his face.

you were all aware of what had happened. in that tense moment, silence enveloped the room; the chaos within each of you made it nearly impossible to string two words together. aware of the fact that madam pomfrey would never let no less than seven students into the hospital wing, you finally mustered the courage to call to tom. his steps faltered and he turned to face you, the weight of the situation hanging in the air. “what did you do?”

as he took a few tentative steps towards you, it was evident that his words were caught in his throat. tom riddle was speechless for the first time in his life. the usual confidence he would display was gone, guilt replacing it. “it was a mistake, i made a mistake. i only wanted to cast expelliarmus on matt, but i lost my temper and when he avoided it, it- i- draco was behind him and i hexed him” he spoke so softly that it was almost impossible to catch it.

you could sense the anguish in his voice and, despite his expectations, you pulled him closer to you in a gentle, reassuring embrace. as you held him against you, you felt a few more pairs of arms encircle you both. blaise, theo and enzo had approached you both, offering their support for tom as well, even though he had hurt their friend.

things like “it’s okay, tom. he’s not mad at you” and “you couldn’t control yourself. he knows you care about him” were said, but did close to nothing to soothe tom. he fucked up big time.

🤍

in the hospital wing, things were as tense, primarily due to the uncertainty of draco’s condition. mattheo stood by his bedside, gazing at the unfortunate boy who was suffering, all because of a stupid letter. but then again he wondered : how could a simple spell leave evident marks such as blood in its wake?

draco, on the other hand, fought to keep his eyes as madam pomfrey tended to his wound, a concerned frown adorning her face. “if someone stabbed him, you have to tell me. this is serious, mister riddle” she eyed mattheo warily, feeling for the poor boy who was wincing.

“no, madam. he got hexed by… he got hexed. accidentally” his voice came out hoarse, his cheeks flushing under madam pomfrey’s stern gaze. he felt like she knew who it was that had hexed draco.

“this is not a simple hex” she muttered under her breath, wiping her hands on her skirt as she finished bandaging draco. “i insist that you do not walk unaccompanied and refrain from too much physical effort. and yes, this includes quidditch” she asserted, before directing her gaze at mattheo again. “mister riddle, please send your brother to my office” she instructed, exiting with a decisive thud of the door.

“if you don't tell her, i won't either” draco smiled softly, wincing as he accidentally touched his chest.

“have you gone all soft, malfoy?” he inquired, amused, the corner of his lips curving upwards. “besides, the old hag’s figured it out.”

“i am not soft” mumbled draco, avoiding his gaze.

“you’ll be once i’m done with you.”

🤍

some time later, you were still sitting in the common room, worry etched on your face as you continued studying, but you could barely focus, given how clueless you were about draco’s condition.

werewolves, vampires, unicorns…

you read, but nothing seemed to click, nothing but the door as someone stepped inside, the portrait closing behind them.

“still studying, beautiful?” mattheo. he seemed so calm, slightly amused as you basically ran up to him, wide eyes searching for any trace of hesitation.

“how is draco?” he chuckled softly as you absentmindedly tugged at his jacket, seemingly unaware of your actions.

“he’s alright. madam pomfrey forbid him from playing quidditch and even walking on his own, so you can imagine how frustrated he was. but he’s healing.”

you exhaled, melting into him as his arms wrapped around your smaller frame. “oh, thank merlin” you hummed appreciatively when he squeezed you slightly, his hands caressing your hair. “who is with him now?”

“no one” he replied simply, as if it wasn’t that big of a deal.

his words startled you, prompting your warm body to leave his own. “alone? on his own? and not being capable of moving on his own?”

“yes” he replied, not really understanding your point. “he told me he wanted to sleep. what could happen in his sleep?”

“even so!” you exhaled in frustration, forgetting all about your studying as you stormed off to find draco.

on your way to the hospital wing, you remembered that it was still dinner time and you figured you’d stop by the kitchens to gather some food for the both of you, considering he had been sitting on a hospital bed for hours.

with a bag of food in hand, you wandered the hallways in search of the quickest way to the hospital wing. the corridor was silent, the absence of the students allowing you to hear your thoughts for once. you were feeling relieved, content that draco was healing and madam pomfrey was confident that he’d be alright in no time.

finally reaching the door, you took a steadying breath and opened it.

to your surprise, draco was the only student there, and he seemed quite alert when he caught sight of you. but when you closed the door behind you and he noticed that you were alone, his shoulders relaxed.

“you should be at dinner” he remarked, but the amusement in his tone was palpable as you flicked on the lights.

“and you shouldn’t be here” you bit back, his face softening when he noticed how worried you were. it was simple for him to tell; your brows were furrowed, lips slightly pursed and you kept fiddling with your ring. “i’m glad you’re feeling better though” you continued softly, carefully placing the food on his small bedside table as you sat down on the chair by his bed.

he took your hand in his, humming. “me too… kinda. you could’ve told everyone that i died of a broken heart, but pomfrey had to spoil my story” his nose wrinkled as he quipped, a playful smirk on his face.

and of course you were very much aware that he was joking, yet the worry coursing through you made you react on impulse. leaning in, you pressed your lips to his in order to silence his playful banter.

draco responded to the kiss, hand tightening around your jaw as he drew you closer. and closer, and then some more. in the intensity of the moment, he almost forgot about his wound, but not you. supporting your weight on one elbow, you pulled away, gasping for air.

“you do taste good” he licked his lips just like theo had done earlier, and you groaned, causing the boy to smirk.

“i would throw a pillow at you, but…”

draco gestured to his chest, smiling. “i’m a wounded man. have some mercy, y/n/n” he whined, flinging an arm over his head dramatically. how thankful you were that the whining was back.

“alright, alright” you waved him off, “i brought apple tart and some kind of expensive beef, i saw you eat it before” you said casually, as if it meant nothing, but for draco it meant so much - bringing him his favourite food and actually remembering his preferences.

“you’re an angel” he beamed at you, admiring you for a second too long, before he started eating.

you looked at him as well, taking in every detail of his face. and even if he was not feeling good, he looked just as gorgeous. “and you’re really beautiful” you whispered.

“do you think i’m beautiful, doll?” he teased, but you could sense a deeper yearning beneath his lighthearted tone.

feeling your cheeks burn, you shook your head. “you know you’re beautiful.”

“i do” he nodded proudly, biting the inside of his chin to suppress his wide grin. “but it sounds so much sweeter coming from that pretty mouth.”

you smiled, shy but sweet, and soon the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, your mind wandering. why was draco being nicer than usual? had he always been this way and had you been too distracted to notice? was you kissing him too much?

as always, your overthinking bubbled up at the most inconvenient time.

“before ripping me apart, tom actually taught me the art of legilimency” he stated nonchalantly, still engrossed in his food.

you dropped your fork on your plate, your eyes widening in disbelief - was he reading your mind? “draco m-”

amused, he shook his head, finding great amusement in the effect his words had on you. “i’m joooking” he drawled out, setting his food aside to focus on you.

studying you closely, he raised a hand, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek. “pretty” you pouted, a smile threatening to appear, and draco mirrored your expression, tilting his head slightly. “now that i think about it… do you think what would make me heal faster?”

“what is it?” your curiosity piqued, eager to help him be out of this bed as soon as possible.

with a sly smirk, he pulled you closer, whispering. “tasting your sweet cunt” his icy blue eyes glinted as they bored into yours, and your breath caught in your throat. “it would be like my personal potion.”

sighing nervously, you moved to straddle him, cunt hovering over his face, “tell me if it’s too much” you whisper softly, hoping that nobody could was close enough to hear you.

he grasped your hips firmly, a smirk dancing around his lips as he met your gaze, “i should be the one saying that” he teased, curling one finger just enough to shift your underwear to the side, revealing the wetness.

draco let out a low groan, the sight causing his cock to harden, his pants tightening. “i can’t wait to get out of this stupid bed so i can finally have you suffocate me between your legs. i could die a happy man here” with a deft motion, he used two fingers to spread your arousal, causing you to jolt as he brushed against your hole.

“p-please stop teasing” you stammered, the effect of his teasing evident in your voice. draco reveled in your reaction, your vulnerability only fueling his desire. he was done teasing; all he wanted was to get a taste, especially to get back at enzo for telling him all about how sweet you tasted and how responsive you were.

“i’m gonna give you what you need, pretty” you felt his fingers ghost over your clit, finally beginning to draw slow, tight circles on your clit that had you crying out, more so when you felt his tongue prod at your entrance. “d-draco” you whispered his name like a prayer. “need it, please. fuck me with your tongue.”

he growled upon hearing you talk so dirty, amazed by the words leaving your sweet mouth, and without notice, his tongue plunged deep inside of you, sliding in and out as his fingers only slightly picked up their pace.

you felt empty when, out of blue, he withdrew his tongue, his fingers still working on you. “how about a deal, dolly?”

“anything” you whimpered, desperate to feel him again.

he smirked. “i make you cum and you tell me who did it better. me or enzo.”

as you peered down at him through blurry eyes, you shook your head in disapproval. “everything is a competition to you, isn’t it?”

“a deal’s a deal.”

you let out a scoff. “i don’t understand how that-” but your words got caught in your throat as his fingers moved from your cunt as well, and he raised at eyebrow at you, tilting his head. “okay, okay! i’ll do it, fuck. i’ll even tell him that, just- please- oh, oh my god!” you cried out when he resumed his work on you, fucking you with his tongue and causing you to let out the most obscene sounds, sounds you were not aware you were capable of making before.

it was nothing like you’d felt before. the way he was gripping your thighs, how precise the movement of his fingers was. he was magical.

you started trembling with the intensity of it all, and draco must’ve sensed it, because he moved his tongue, leaving you to clench around nothing before he replaced it with his fingers.

he was moving faster and you felt like you were tipping over the edge, your head thrown back as he made out with your cunt, sucking at your sensitive bud and nosing at it, adding just the perfect amount of pressure that had you seeing stars. “you look gorgeous like this” he mumbled against you and it caused you to cry, actually cry from the overstimulation, your orgasm drawing nearer and nearer.

and all of a sudden, your vision turned white. you couldn’t see him, you couldn’t see anything, but all you could do was pant, cry and whimper the only thing that was on your mind in that moment - his name.

“draco, draco, draco…” spilled from your lips as you grinded your hips against his face, draco happily lapping at your cunt as you started convulsing on top of him, his nails digging into the plush of your thighs to keep you from pulling away.

you were breathing heavily, so heavy that you could hear it and it was the thing pulling you back to reality, your head dropping forward and your gaze catching draco’s.

he grinned like a mad man, cheeks hurting as he didn’t even try to hide it. “i wanna be there to look at his face when you tell him that i am better.”

shaking your head, you felt a pang of guilt now, your adrenaline rush washing off. “you’re cruel, you know that?” catching your breath, you bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from smiling, but he saw right through you.

“you didn’t seem to mind one bit when i was fucking you with my tongue just a few minutes ago.”

fair enough.

────── ☾ ──────

[lavieenpasdedeux]

Busy Man

Ceo!Max Verstappen x AFAB reader

Summary: You and Max have a clear arrangement. He's a busy man, you come when he beckons and he fucks you. Then, you leave. But, what happens when you're interrupted by a phone call...?

WC: 3.2k

Contains: Dom!Max Sub!Reader, female OC, sir kink, mean max, no emotional connection, bondage, gagging, praise and degradation, choking, slapping, spanking, oral sex (f recieving), PinV sex, fingering.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ . ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁. ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. . ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ :. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ -˚̣⋅ .

Max Verstappen was the kind of man that never had to ask twice. Since day one of knowing him he looked at you like you were already his. Maybe that’s why you let him fuck you that night, his power and his confident demeanour winning you over. Or maybe you just wanted a decent fuck from a good looking (and very rich) guy.

Now, it was a habit. It was an unspoken arrangement, the two of you each had your jobs. Max was the CEO of a powerful tech company and you, your job was arguably more important. Keep him calm, content and satisfied. 

You could say your relationship had no labels and no expectations but you’d be lying. You were always told of your position, you were his. You’d been doing this long enough to know that. You were expected to do as you’re told and to do it without question or argument.

It’s not like feelings had to get involved anyway. You had your instructions texted to you. It didn’t matter if it was an inconvenient time, you did whatever he wanted. You were drawn in by the magnetic pull of someone who never let you forget who is in charge.

-

-

Friday 24th November. 5:30pm 

Your phone buzzed.

Max: Come over. Be on the bed waiting for me by 6:30.

A minute passed 

Max: Wear the dark blue one.

You stared at your phone, your heart tightening in that familiar way- not romantic, not even sentimental. It was a kind of twisted excitement, the anticipation for what you knew was coming. 

He always messaged like that. Direct. Possessive. No emotion.

You never replied. You didn’t have to. He knew you’d come.

You threw your phone onto the bed as you walked into your bedroom and towards the closet. Your eyes scanned over the hangers, trying to decide which dress would go best with the lingerie he picked out. Eventually, they landed on a dress. THE dress.  

Black. Short. Silk. The first time you wore it, you didn’t even manage to get to the table at the restaurant. Just one look, and your destination changed to Max’s apartment- your body pressed up against him in the back seat, his voice low and rough in your ear.

“Don’t wear this again, unless it’s just for me.”

So you didn’t. You hadn’t worn it since. Max had this kind of power over you, he could control you so easily and he knew it. But you liked it.

You slipped it on now, the fabric clinging to your skin and hugging you in the best way. He liked it because it made you look expensive. You looked rare, like you were his- but he never said that out loud. He didn’t need to, nor did he want to. 

You left your hair down and sprayed his favourite perfume. No lipstick. He didn’t like kissing you when you had it on- too messy, he once told you. It was always his way. His pace. His rules. 

-

-

By the time you reached his penthouse it was nearly 6:15. He wasn’t there yet. He never was. That was part of it, the routine you both had. It was another way for Max to show you he controlled you and he was in charge- he fucked you when it was convenient for him. You let yourself in with the key he gave you months ago, tossed your coat over the armchair, and walked into his bedroom.

You knew how this would go. He’d arrive. There’d be barely a word exchanged. And then he’d take. Take until there was nothing left of you but breath and bruises and the vague sense that you shouldn’t be doing this anymore. That you should find a real boyfriend that’s nice and that cares about you.

But you never did. You were addicted to Max, could never get enough of what he gave you. Even though there was no feeling or warmth, his power and control was intoxicating. Being wanted by him, someone so influential and powerful, made it impossible to walk away.

You left your bag at the bottom of the bedside table, flicking on the small lamp, and you sat at the end of the bed. The sheets were cold against the back of your thighs, your skin burning with anticipation. As you waited in the warm, dim glow, eyes fixed out of the window at the view of the city below Max’s large windows offered you, you reminded yourself of the rules.

Don’t get attached.

Don’t read into the messages.

And don’t ever, ever, imagine he feels anything back.

But tonight, as the door clicked shut and you heard his footsteps across the marble floor, you couldn't help it.

You wondered if he thought about you when you weren’t there. What would happen if one day you decided you deserved better and didn’t show up when he told you to. And worse, you wondered if he’d even care.

The bedroom door opened without a knock.

Max stepped in, wearing his usual dark suit and tie. You knew him well enough by now to recognise the cold eyes and the tight frown meant he was angry. Most likely he’d just walked out of a boardroom where someone had left in tears. 

He didn’t look at you right away. He never did. He moved with quiet focus. Taking his blazer off, undoing his cuffs, every motion was deliberate, controlled and cold. He left his watch on as he always did. A man as busy as he was never took time off, just kept moving with it.

You stayed where you were on the bed. Waiting. Exactly like he told you to.

His eyes finally met yours as he stepped closer, his large hands rolling up the sleeves of his shirt- exposing his strong forearms. The air grew heavier. His stare pinned you down harder than his hands ever had.

The corner of his mouth curled up, not a smile, not quite. It was approval of your appearance. Which, from Max, was rarer than affection. 

“Are you wearing what I told you to?” he said, his voice low and smooth, with that faint Dutch edge that always made your stomach flutter. 

You replied with a short nod.

“Good.” His voice sounded huskier, imagining what you look like in it. “And you remember our safe word?” you nodded again, repeating the word back to him.

Max didn’t play into small talk or compliments. He wasn’t the type to ask how your day was. Whatever existed between the two of you- if it was anything at all- was built on rules, not warmth.

He reached a hand out and traced one finger along your bare shoulder, slow and possessive. His hands were as cold as his stare, simply admiring his property instead of appreciating you.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he murmured.

You nodded. “You like me quiet.”

A breath escaped his nose, sharp, amused. “I do. But sometimes I wonder what you’d say if you ever spoke your mind.”

You didn’t answer that either. Because the truth was... you didn’t know what you thought anymore. Not about him. Not about this. You weren’t strong like him. You weren’t commanding or confident or in control. You floated in and out of people’s lives without leaving a mark. Let them lead. Let them decide. You had perfected the art of disappearing- of being small and agreeable, soft enough to mold.

That was probably why Max liked you. He didn’t need to ask for obedience, you offered it.

“You wore the dress.” His voice dipped, rougher now. His fingers trailed down your thigh. “You wear it to impress me?” He sounded almost condescending.

You should’ve hated that. You should’ve gotten up and left. But instead, your body responded before your mind could catch up- warmth spreading, heart climbing up your throat.

“Yes sir.” you whispered, barely audible.

He leaned in, lips ghosting over your ear. “Good girl.”

He had to hold back a chuckle as he heard your breath hitch at those two words. He loved to tease you, mess with your mind and make you desperate for him. 

“Take it off.” The coldness in his voice returned, watching you with emotionless eyes as you stood up from the bed- facing him as you slid the dress off. Max undid his tie, never taking his eyes off you and your body.

When the dress pooled around your feet, he grabbed your wrists harshly. He expertly tied his tie around your wrists, pulling it tight with a concentrated expression, before pushing you back onto the bed- your body shuffling into a comfortable position. 

He kept his clothes on, he liked to do that- another way to show his power over you. He was quick to climb on top of you, grabbing your bound hands and pushing them above your head.

”Keep them there.” His voice was the same commanding tone it always was, the kind of voice that made you want to obey him without question.

His large hand groped your tits. His thumb pinching at your nipple through the blue lace he loved so much. The shock of the harsh pinch made you arch your back, a gasp of pleasure leaving your lips as your hips bucked into his- desperate for some friction. He grabbed your chin, his other hand harshly shoving your hips back down into the mattress.

“No. Keep still.” His voice was low and smooth, intoxicating and his eyes bore into yours. All you could do was nod, but that seemed to satisfy him as he leant down and began to scatter kisses across your neck and down to your breasts. His mouth closed around your nipple, sucking through the thin lace of your bra.

From instinct, your hands shot down to grab his hair, the pleasure overwhelming. You were quick, but Max was quicker. His thick fingers grasped your wrists as he shoved them back above your head.

 “Don’t. I won’t tell you again.” His voice was a low murmur now, lips ghosting above your nipple. He resumed what he was doing, the feeling of his mouth euphoric. You could feel the wetness growing between your thighs, aching with need. As if Max could sense this too, his hand grazed your core, his fingers light over the thin, soaked cotton of your panties. 

His finger slipped under the fabric, chuckling lowly at how wet you were for him. He gently ran his fingertip through your slit, pushing into your hole ever so slightly before pulling out again- just giving you a taste of what’s to come. His face had that familiar smirk on it as he gently pulled your panties off you, the dark blue fabric joining your dress on the floor.

Max pushed himself off the bed and grabbed your ankles, dragging your hips to the edge of the mattress. The sight of him kneeling in front of you was a very rare occurrence, and it sent shivers down your spine. He wrapped his hands around your thighs and slowly pressed kisses across them. Your breathing was heavy, your mouth hung open in anticipation. You were nervous, Max rarely ate you out and you didn’t want to step out of line again and make him stop. You shifted your hips, trying to push your pussy towards him, he smirked and ran his tongue up your pussy. You gasped, pushing your hips further into his face. His tongue slid against you, gathering your wetness, and you moaned loudly. Your clit was desperate for attention, and Max quickly remedied this.

"Fuck!” you let out an almost pornographic moan as Max slipped two fingers inside you. His tongue circled your clit, his lips closing around it. Your moans grew into borderline shouts as he pumped his fingers inside you before curling them up, stroking your walls. Your thighs clamped around his head, your hips arching upward causing his nose to bump against you. This only made him speed up, his tongue moving with expert precision while he stretched your dripping hole with his thick fingers. You felt electric, every nerve in your body alert as he brought you closer and closer to your peak. Your moans turned into begs, desperate for a release.

Again, your hands fell to his hair. You were desperate for something to grip as your orgasm approached, but it never did.

In an instant, his tongue left your clit and his fingers slid out of you. Your orgasm fizzled away as Max rose to his feet, a storm of anger in his eyes.

“Please! I didn’t mean to! i’m sorry, sir.” you whined, almost begging Max to forgive you and let you cum. You were desperate.

He shoved your arms back above your head, his other hand wrapping around your throat, he looked down at you, the anger in his gaze and the tightness of his grip making your blood rush.

“I said I wouldn’t tell you again. My instructions were clear. What did I tell you, hm?”

His voice was cold and condescending. You wanted to reply but you could barely speak, still coming down from the high of your almost-orgasm.

This isn’t what Max wanted, when he asked a question you were supposed to answer straight away. A sharp slap hit your cheek. The sting of it went straight down to your core, making it even harder to speak. You wouldn’t admit it but you loved this side of Max- when he could scare you. It sent a rush of euphoria and adrenaline through you.

“Answer me. Don’t be a brat.” he demanded.

“You told me not to move my hands.” your voice was breathy and broken, the way he spoke to you only making you wetter and more desperate.

“I’ll give you once more chance to prove you can follow instructions. Flip over. Ass up.”

You rush to do what Max tells you, flipping over onto your stomach, hands still bound. You arched your back and pushed your ass towards him. He offers you no praise or reassurance, the only thing breaking the silence is the sound of Max’s trousers unzipping.  

The tip of his cock nudged against your hole, you had to resist pushing your hips back and making him sink into you. 

“Be a good fucking girl and take it.” his voice was husky, daring you to challenge him. 

You expected him to shove his cock into you, but instead a sharp smack landed on your ass. 

“Fucking brat.” he spat. Your hips shot forward from the shock, Max’s hand wrapped around your legs to keep you in place. 

Another smack. “Don’t forget what you are.” His hand threaded through your hair, pulling it back so your back arched even more. 

He smacked you harder this time, your ass burning from the sting. “You’re my dirty fucking slut.”

“I own you. I own this pussy.” Again. You let out a cry of pleasure. You could tell Max was enjoying this from his voice, he loved to watch bruises form on your soft skin because of him. 

“Say it.” 

“You own me, sir.” Your voice was broken by moans of pleasure. Max was grabbing your sore asscheeks, the skin was burning under his rough touch.

A low groan tore from Max’s throat at your admission, and he slowly sank his cock into you- rewarding you. 

He instantly set a punishing pace, sweat forming on your skin as he pounded into you. His hands moved to grip your waist, pulling you into his cock- making you feel him deep in your stomach. Your body shook with bliss, your arms giving out and making you collapse into the mattress- your moans being muffled slightly by the bedsheets. His hand snuck around to rub your clit, sending shockwaves through your body and making you shout with ecstasy. Both of your orgasms were fast approaching, you could feel Max’s thrusts getting shallower and sloppier.

A noise broke you out of your reverie, a ringing filling the air. Max’s phone. 

As always, work took priority. His thrusts stopped and he slipped his cock out of you, grumbling in frustration as he climbed off the bed to dig around in his trousers pockets to find his phone. 

You collapsed down onto the bed, the sensation of being so close and having it ripped away from you again had taken all of your energy out of you. 

“Flip over.” Max demanded. His phone was still ringing. “And grab a pillow.” 

You did as you were told, and Max motioned for you to move down the bed to where he stood. He was looking at you with a severe expression. 

“Don’t make a sound. Understood?” 

“Yes sir.” 

Max nodded curtly. “Lift your hips.” 

He slid the pillow beneath you and grabbed your legs, placing them over his shoulders, then picked up the phone. You were confused about why he decided to do this now, but you did what he wanted, desperation for your orgasm overpowering any argument you could put forth. 

“What is it?” Max said to whoever was on the phone, he sounded perturbed to say the least. 

His palm came to rest against your lower stomach, pushing down firmly as he slowly sank back into you. You tried your best to keep quiet, your jaw hanging open in silent shock at the intense feeling, but you couldn’t help the groan of pleasure you let out when he thrusted into you harder than before. 

Max didn’t say or do anything, just kept talking on the phone as he picked up your discarded panties. His large hand grabbed your jaw, and you got the message. You opened your mouth and Max stuffed your panties in, gagging you with them. His hand remained over your mouth for a few minutes, his eyes locked onto yours with a stern expression- a warning to not do it again. 

His thrusts sped up, his voice remaining steady as he spoke but you could see the flush on his cheeks, hear how his breathing got heavier. He was close, and so were you. 

You were desperate for him to hang up, needy for his full attention while you came- but you couldn’t hold back. 

“It better be sorted by tomorrow or else we’ll have a problem, understood? Good.” Max’s voice was tense, you could tell he was trying to speak normally, hide how close to an orgasm he was. 

He threw his phone on the bed above you, his now free hand immediately going to rub tight circles on your clit. Your legs left his shoulders and wrapped around his waist, pulling him even deeper into you as you finally came around his cock- your whimpers and moans of euphoric pleasure muffled by the panties still in your mouth.

Max’s thrusts deepened, slamming into your aching pussy until he also came, a low groan tearing through his throat as his cock twitched inside of you. 

Both of you were breathing heavily, Max gently pulling out of you and taking your underwear out of your mouth. He lent down, his lips crashing onto yours with a searing kiss before he collapsed on the bed next to you. 

He shuffled down to rest against the pillows, pulling you to rest against his chest. His hand caressed your hair softly, helping you come down from your high. 

“Thank You.” his voice was soft. “I missed you.” 

Emotion was rare from Max. It was times like this that made it hard to convince yourself it could never be something more…

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ . ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁. ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. . ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ :. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ -˚̣⋅ .

A/N: hiiii, I'm honestly not sure how I feel about this one hahah, let me know if you enjoyed it!!! Next fic will be with Lewis!

Taglist:

@dollstappen @fangirlmusicbiashoe

[wvyik]

WRAPPED IN YA’.

dean winchester x fem! reader

ꕤ summary: after a hunt, you slip into dean’s flannel, but when he sees you in it, the heat between you two ignites, and it quickly turns into something much more tempting.

♯ warnings: mdni!! smut, explicit content, rough sex, dom/sub dynamics, steamy chemistry, oral sex, (both receiving) unprotected fun, fingering, heavy praise kink, use of pet names, light breeding kink (👀), dirty talk, safe word check-in, long ass descriptions, porn with some plot? pre-established relationship, flannel fueled chaos, too much heat— someone call the fire department.

♯ notes: hiya lovelies!! okay so.. this one gets spicy real fast. gawd i feel so shy about posting smut bahaha. but i tried my best. i need some tips (pun intended) though! i adore reading ur comments guys, seriously. thank you so much for the support! <3

The night had been long, the hunt brutal, but now, back in the bunker, the weight of exhaustion had settled into your bones. But there was one thing that made everything a little better — Dean’s flannel, slung over the back of the couch. You didn’t think twice before pulling it on, the soft fabric engulfing you, his scent instantly wrapping around you.

You had a second of peace, just standing there, breathing him in, when you heard the unmistakable sound of Dean’s boots behind you. You turned slowly to see him standing in the doorway, eyes dark, smirk curling on his lips.

“Really?” His voice was thick with amusement, but there was a layer of something else beneath it, something hungry. “Stealing my clothes now, huh?”

You shrugged, crossing your arms over your chest, the oversized flannel making you feel like you were drowning in it— but it felt damn good. “It’s comfy,” you said, teasing him, but the heat in your gaze was unmistakable.

Dean’s eyes scanned you slowly, taking in every inch of the way the flannel hung off your body. He stepped forward, the air between you crackling with tension. “Comfy?” he repeated, voice dripping with sarcasm, but his eyes were anything but joking. “You look fucking irresistible in it.”

You bit your lip, feeling the heat rush through your veins at his words. You could feel the tension building between you, that magnetic pull you couldn’t fight.

“You gonna keep stealing my shirts now, sweetheart?” Dean said, his voice rough, low, sending shivers down your spine as his hand reached out to trail down your arm. “Or do I get to make you forget about it?”

You swallowed hard, looking up at him. “Maybe I like it. Maybe I like you seeing me in your clothes.”

Dean smirked, and before you could blink, he grabbed you by the waist, pulling you in so close that you could feel the heat of his body against yours. His lips were on yours before you could even react, hard and demanding. His hands slid under the flannel, grazing your skin, his fingers burning a trail up your sides.

You gasped into the kiss when his hands slid lower, cupping you through the fabric of your jeans, the heat between you two growing unbearable. His mouth moved to your neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses as his hands began to work the buttons of your jeans.

“Dean,” you moaned softly, your hands pulling at his shirt, desperate for more contact, for more of him.

“Don’t say my name like that,” he muttered against your skin, his breath ragged. “You want me to fuck you right here, in my clothes?”

You felt your body tremble at the thought. His words, the way he was looking at you like he couldn’t wait to strip everything away, made you ache.

“Please,” you whispered, fingers tugging at his belt.

Dean growled, his hands gripping your hips as he lifted you effortlessly, pushing you up against the nearby wall, your legs wrapping around his waist. His mouth claimed yours again, with an unrelenting pace.

His eyes darkened, lips brushing against yours, "You're so damn perfect. You know that?"

You shivered at his words, the combination of his raw, dominant tone and the sweetness of his compliments sending a rush of heat through your body.

"De.." you murmured, hands slipping beneath his shirt to explore the muscles of his back, skin burning with every touch. "I need you so bad, please,"

Your touch sent a jolt of desire coursing through his veins, his breathing growing heavy as he ground against you, the hard length of him pressing against your hip, the friction driving him wild.

"You feel that?" he asked, his voice rough, "That's what you do to me, sweetheart."

You gasped softly, feeling the evidence of his arousal straining against his jeans, your body responding involuntarily, arching against him in search of more of that delicious friction.

"Bed?" you managed, the word barely a whisper. "Need you in a bed, not against a wall.."

The corners of his lips curled into a smirk at your desperate plea. He wanted you too, craved you like the air he breathed, but he loved teasing you, pushing you to the brink before giving in.

"Not yet," he murmured, his grip on you unrelenting. "We're not finished here."

He dipped his head, his mouth trailing a path down your neck, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin, his hands roaming over your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

You writhed under his touch, your body alive with sensation, every nerve ending singing. "Dean, please," you whimpered, fingers clutching at his shoulders.

He savored the sound of your breathy pleas, relishing in the way you came undone beneath his touch. "I know, baby.. Love hearing you beg for me like that," he whispered against your skin, his voice roughened by arousal. “Enough of that, though. Get on your fuckin’ knees.”

Your knees almost gave way at the command, a sharp gasp slipping through your lips. "De—," you protested weakly, but there was no real resistance, just a trembling anticipation.

"Do as I say," he insisted, his grip unyielding as he guided you to the floor, your knees hitting the carpet with a soft thud. He stood above you, his eyes burning with intensity as you knelt before him, your face level with the obvious bulge in his jeans.

"Take my belt off," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Your hands trembled as you reached for his leather belt, your fingertips brushing against the cool metal of the buckle. It took you a few attempts to undo it, your fingers clumsy with desire.

Once the belt was undone, he caught your wrist, his grip firm as he guided your hand to the zipper of his jeans. "Keep going, sweetheart."

Your heart was hammering in your chest as you unzipped his jeans, the sound of the zipper loud in the otherwise silent room, your fingertips brushing against the fabric of his boxers.

"Now... pull them down, slowly." His words were a command, a challenge, but beneath the dominance, there was an underlying tenderness, a hint of vulnerability that only showed itself in moments like these.

You obeyed, your hands reaching for the waistband of his jeans, fingers trembling with anticipation as you shimmied them down his hips. The material was rough against your hands, and the sound of denim sliding over his muscular thighs sent a shiver down your spine.

He stepped out of his jeans, leaving him in nothing but a pair of black boxers, the fabric strained by his arousal. He looked down at you, his eyes roving over your body, taking in the way you knelt before him, soft and submissive, ready to do whatever he asked.

He reached down, cupping your chin and tilting your face up to meet his gaze. His thumb traced your lower lip, his touch tender despite the commanding tone of his voice.

"You trust me, sweetheart?" he asked, his eyes searching yours, a hint of vulnerability in his expression.

"Yes," you whispered, the word escaping your lips without hesitation. You did trust him, implicitly. He had seen you at your most vulnerable, your darkest moments, and he had never once taken advantage of it. Instead, he had been your pillar of strength, your protector, your safe harbor in the storm.

His thumb continued tracing your lip, a gentle smile curving his mouth at your response. "Good girl," he murmured, the praise sending a jolt of desire through you, his approval filling you with warmth. “Now, open that pretty lil’ mouth for me.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the simple command igniting a fire within you. Without hesitation, you parted your lips, your eyes locked on his as you waited for his next command.

His thumb slipped past your parted lips, tracing the outline of your tongue. “Suck it,” he demanded, his voice low and sensual.

You obeyed without hesitation, your tongue swirling around his thumb as you sucked it into your mouth. The action was both submissive and rebellious, your eyes defiant even as you yielded to his command.

Dean groaned, his eyes darkening as he watched you. "That's it," he said, his thumb withdrawing from your mouth with a wet pop. "Look so good on your knees for me, baby."

He threaded his fingers into your hair, his grip firm as he angled your head to look up at him. His eyes bore into yours, his expression a mix of tenderness and dominance.

"You know what I want, don't you?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

You nodded, a wordless affirmation that you understood exactly what he was asking for. Your lips were parted, your breath coming in heavy pants, your body already trembling in anticipation.

He ran his hand over your hair, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the rough command. "Go on then, touch me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your hand trembled as you reached for him, your palm sliding over the rough cotton of his boxers, feeling the heat and hardness beneath. Your touch was tentative at first, but as you heard him draw in a sharp breath, your confidence began to grow.

His hand tensed in your hair as your touch grew bolder, your fingers tracing the outline of his arousal through the fabric. "Mmm... that's it," he murmured, his voice thick with pleasure, "Just like that, sweetheart."

Your hand cupped him more firmly, massaging him through the fabric until he was practically vibrating with need. "F-fuck... you're so good for me, aren't you darling?"

Your response was a strangled moan, your body responding to his praise like a flame to gasoline. You were on fire, consumed by a desperate need for him, the ache between your thighs growing with every passing moment. "Please," you gasped, looking up at him, your lips parted, your cheeks flushed. "Dean, please... I need you."

His jaw clenched at the view of you. It was a sight that never failed to get him going, his control almost at its limit. "Yeah? You need me that bad, huh?" he teased, his fingers tangling more tightly in your hair.

You nodded, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. "Yes," you breathed, your hand still massaging him through the fabric. "So bad, Dean. I need you. Please."

The desperate plea in your tone and the way you were touching him pushed him to the edge. He was already struggling to hold back, and the sight of you on your knees, begging for him, was almost too much.

"Then take what you want," he commanded, his voice a hoarse rasp, "Cmon, angel.. you know what to do."

Without hesitation, you reached for the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down with a swift motion, freeing him from the last barrier of fabric. You swallowed hard as you took him in, your hand wrapping around him, the weight and heat of him feeling like the missing piece to a puzzle you hadn't known was incomplete.

He let out a guttural groan as you touched him, your grip firm and sure, almost worshipful. "Fuck.. just like that, sweetheart," he gasped, his eyes closing for a fraction of second before refocusing on you, watching your every move. "You know how to drive me crazy.."

The praise from him sent a shiver down your spine, your body arching towards his, your hand moving in a steady rhythm. You loved the way you could make him lose control, the way he looked at you now, completely undone by your touch.

"Yeah, just like that.. just keep touching me, babe," he whispered, his hand tightening in your hair again, guiding your mouth towards him. "I need you, sweetheart. I need-"

You didn't hesitate, your tongue darting out to taste him, the saltiness of his skin making your head spin. He groaned, his breath hitching as he watched you, his grip on your hair becoming almost painful. "You're perfect.. so damn perfect..," he murmured, his words interspersed with ragged breaths. "Just like that.. don't stop, sweetheart.. please don't stop.."

You quickened your pace, your tongue swirling and tasting, desperate to drive him over the edge. You wanted to give him everything he needed, to show him just how much you wanted him.

"Oh, I'm close... keep goin.." he gasped, his hips canting forward automatically, seeking more of the pleasure you were giving him. "Just a little bit more, sweetheart.. you're so good.. so perfect.. I'm gonna-"

You knew he was close, you could feel it in the way his body tensed, the way his breath came in ragged gasps. You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his gaze, and that was it.

His release was sudden, his body shaking with the intensity of it, a hoarse cry passing his lips. He held on to you tightly, the grip on your hair probably painful, but you didn't care. You loved seeing him lose control, the way his face showed every emotion, the way he let himself be vulnerable around you.

He panted heavily, his chest rising and falling, his eyes dark and satisfied as he looked down at you. "Goddamn, sweetheart," he muttered, his voice still thick with arousal. “Think you—fuck—think you might need a reward for that, huh?”

A mixture of pride and exhaustion filled you as he spoke. You were trembling, your body almost as spent as his from the intensity of your actions. But the thought of a reward made your eyes gleam. "A-a reward?.." you asked, the word almost a purr.

He chuckled, the sound deep and rough. "Yeah, sweetheart, a reward," he confirmed, his hand moving from your hair to your face, his thumb tracing the lines of your face. "You did so good.. you deserve something special."

His touch was gentle, tender even, a stark contrast to the dominating way he had been moments ago. It always surprised you how he could switch between the two, one moment being demanding, the next tender. But that was just who he was. A man of contrasts.

Dean helped you up, steadying you on your shaky legs before leading you over to the bed. He sat you down on the edge, pulling you onto your back, your legs in between him. He held you close, his arms wrapping around you with a possessiveness that was both comforting and arousing.

He kissed you, slow and deep, his tongue moving against yours, tasting and exploring. It was a gentle, almost loving kind of kiss, one that belied the intensity of the moment. He pulled away after a few seconds, his gaze roaming over your body hungrily.

"I could ravish you right now," he murmured, his hand roaming over your body, "But I don't want to rush this.. I want to take my time with you, baby. I want to make you feel as good as you made me feel."

Your breath hitched at his words, anticipation building in your chest. You knew he meant every word, and the thought of what was to come made your body tingle. "I want that too," you whispered, your hands coming up to toy with his hair. "I want you, Dean. All of you…"

He smiled at your words, his fingers tracing patterns over your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps. "And you'll have me, sweetheart," he promised, his tone confident. "Every part of me.. yours to do with as you please."

He leaned down, pressing a trail of kisses down your neck, his stubble scraping against your skin. Each touch was slow and deliberate, as if he was mapping out every inch of you. His hand slid up your side, his fingers playing lightly at the hem of your shirt before tugging it up, slowly baring more of your flesh to him.

He pulled the shirt over your head, tossing it aside before leaning back to look at you. He took his time, his eyes roaming over your body, drinking in every detail. "So damn gorgeous," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "I never get tired of looking at you."

His hands began to wander again, exploring territory that was both familiar and exciting. He traced your collarbone, his thumb gently brushing over the sensitive area, before moving down to your breasts. His touch was light, teasing, his eyes fixated on your face to gauge your reaction.

You gasped as his thumb brushed over your nipples, the fabric of your bra the only barrier between you. He smirked, noticing your reaction, and did it again, the friction sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through you. "Mmm... so sensitive already." he murmured, his voice low and teasing. He let his fingers go down your back, undoing your bra with skill.

Your breathing hitched, your body arching involuntarily under his touch. His words, combined with the sensations he was eliciting in you, were almost too much to handle. "Dean.. please.." you gasped, your body craving more of his touch, more of him.

He smirked at your plea, his hand tracing down over your stomach, stopping just above the waistband of your shorts. "What do you want, darlin’? Use your words," he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You swallowed hard, your mind fuzzy with desire. "More.." you managed to gasp out, your hips lifting slightly in a desperate attempt to get more of the contact you craved. "Please, more.. I need more.."

He chuckled at your desperate tone, amused and turned on by the effect he had on you. "Such a needy little thing, aren't you?" he murmured, his fingers still teasing at the edge of your shorts. "I love how impatient you get for me, sweetheart.. it's almost endearing."

He leaned down again, his mouth finding a sensitive spot on your neck, his teeth nipping gently before soothing the sting with his tongue. His hand was more demanding now, his fingers slipping down the fabric of your shorts, now dancing along the edge of your underwear.

Your body was on fire, your skin overly sensitive to every touch and kiss. You whimpered, your thighs clenching as his hand continued to tease you. "Please.. I can't take much more of this," you gasped, your hands gripping at the sheets beneath you.

"You can take it," he murmured, his mouth trailing down to your chest, his tongue darting out to taste your skin. "I know you can, sweetheart. And don't worry, you'll get everything you want in just a minute.. if you behave."

You knew exactly what he meant by behaving. You'd be obeying him tonight, and he was reminding you of that fact. You shivered beneath him, the anticipation building. "I'll be good," you promised, your voice almost a whine. "I'll be so good for you, just.. please, Dean."

His hand moved lower, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric of your underwear, teasing the sensitive flesh there. "Fuck," he murmured, his eyes glued to your face. "So wet for me. You got that wet just by sucking my cock?.."

You couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips, the sound almost embarrassing in its neediness. "Yes," you admitted, "Just from that. Just from you."

He groaned in approval, his fingers moving gently over you. "That's it, sweetheart," he murmured, "That's my good girl. You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

You nodded, your body shaking as his touch became more demanding. "I—I just wanted to make you feel good," you managed to gasp out, your hips lifting slightly in time with his movements.

"Oh, you did," he murmured, his voice rough with arousal. "You made me feel so good, sweetheart. But now it's my turn to return the favor..."

His mouth moved down your body, his teeth scraping against your skin, his tongue trailing a wet path towards your thighs. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire, a smirk on his lips. "You want me to take care of you, sweetheart? Want me to taste you like you tasted me?"

You nodded fervently, your breath coming in short, ragged bursts. "Yes," you gasped, the word almost a sob. "Please, please, I need you, Dean."

He chuckled, the sound low and dark. "That's what I wanted to hear," he murmured, his hands gripping your thighs, spreading you open before him. "Just relax, princess. I'm gonna make you feel so damn good."

His tongue was hot on you, his touch firm and sure. He tasted and teased, his mouth working you into a frenzy. It was almost overwhelming, the way he knew all your sensitive spots, the way he knew exactly how to touch you to drive you wild. You writhed beneath him, his finger curled up in you.

"So damn sensitive.." he murmured, his mouth moving against you, his words sending vibrations through your body. "You're so damn reactive to everything I do to you, sweetness.. it's so goddamn hot.. I could do this all night.. I could do this until you're a shaking, sobbing mess beneath me.. begging me for more..."

You were close, your body tensing, the coil inside you ready to snap. "Dean-please—" you gasped, your back arching off the bed, "I'm--oh God, I'm so close-just-just a little bit more—"

His tongue flicked over you, his pace picking up, his fingers digging into your thighs. "That's it, sweetheart," he murmured, "Cum for me. I want to hear you say my name, I want to feel you let go for me.."

And with his last words, you shattered, crying out his name as pleasure crested over you. You shook, your body arching, your hands gripping the sheets tightly. The intensity of it was mind numbing, the sensation washing over you.

He didn't stop, his mouth working you through it, prolonging the sensation. You moaned, your body trembling, your senses overwhelmed. It was too much, yet somehow not enough. You clutched at him, your hands running through his hair, needing something to ground you.

Finally, he pulled away, his mouth trailing kisses up your body as he moved back up to your face. He looked at you, his eyes dark, his expression satisfied. "You're incredible, baby," he murmured, kissing you deeply, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

You tasted yourself on his lips, the realization making you shiver. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer, your body still humming with aftershocks of pleasure. "That was.. that was amazing," you managed to gasp out, your voice hoarse from screaming his name.

He smirked at that, his ego clearly boosted by your words. "Damn right, it was," he said, pride evident in his tone. He ran a hand through your hair, his touch surprisingly tender. "And we're far from done."

Your eyes widened at his words. Far from done? You weren't sure you would be able to handle much more, but the heat in his gaze told you that you didn't have a choice. You swallowed hard, your body already responding to his touch.

He chuckled at your expression, his hand rubbing small circles on your thigh. "You look like a deer caught in headlights, sweetheart," he teased, his smirk growing. "Don't worry, I'll take care of you. I just need you to do one thing for me."

You nodded, your body already responding to his command. "Anything," you replied breathless.

He leaned in, his mouth close to your ear, his tone dropping. "Beg for me, doll. I want you to beg me to fuck you."

Your cheeks flushed, a mixture of embarrassment and arousal. "Please," you whispered, your eyes meeting his. "Please, Dean, I need you to—" you stopped, the words almost stuck in your throat.

He chuckled, his hand moving lower, his touch teasing. "Come on, sweetheart, you can do better than that," he encouraged, his eyes dark and demanding. "I know you want it. I know you want me. Just let yourself say it. Beg for it."

You felt a thrill run through you, the combination of his words and his touch pushing you over the edge. "Please," you whispered, "Please Dean, please - I need you. I need you inside me. I need you to take me, to make me yours. Please, please, please just—just—" you couldn't finish, your words strangled by your own need

His lips crushed yours, silencing your words with a bruising kiss. "That's what I wanted to hear, pretty girl," he murmured against your mouth, "Fucking hell, you know how to get me worked up."

He pulled back, his eyes roaming over your body, his expression hungry. "Now, let's see how much more you can take."

With that, he steadied himself against you, slowly teasing his hard arousal against your wetness. You gasped, the sudden movement catching you off guard.

"You good, sweetheart?" he murmured, his voice low. "Color check."

You took a deep breath, your mind still fuzzy with desire. "Green," you managed to gasp, your body begging for more.

He smiled, satisfied with your answer. "Good girl," he said, his hands gripping your thighs, he lifted your legs up over his shoulders. "Just relax, angel. I'm gonna take good care of you."

He leaned down, his mouth finding a sensitive spot on your neck. As he sucked and nipped at the skin there, slowly, agonizingly slow he pushed into you. Your head fell back against the bed, a low moan escaping your lips.

You could feel every inch, your body stretching and adjusting to him. He filled you completely, the friction sending sparks of pleasure down your spine. You gripped his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. "Dean, please..," you whimpered.

"Please what, sweetheart?" He murmured against your skin, his voice hoarse with need. "You know you have to use your words."

"Move," you gasped, your body shaking with need. "Please, just.. just move. I need you to move."

He chuckled, the sound a mix of amusement and arousal. "Bossy, are we?" he teased. But there was a hint of satisfaction in his tone. He pulled back slightly, before slowly pushing back in. "Like this, baby?"

You gasped, your back arching against the sheets. "Yes," you managed to gasp, "Just like that, yes. Please, more."

He set a steady rhythm, his movements deep and sure. He knew exactly how to touch you, where to touch you, which spots made you shudder, which made you moan. His hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh. "So damn tight," he groaned, his breath ragged. "You feel so fuckin’ amazing.”

His words, combined with the sensations he was eliciting, were almost too much. You were quickly unraveling beneath him, your body aflame with pleasure. You pulled him closer, your hands tangling in his hair, needing something to ground you.

"Look at you, sweetheart," he murmured, his mouth finding your ear. "You're so damn perfect like this. All needy and desperate for me."

His words sent a thrill down your spine, his tone filled with hunger. You could feel him everywhere, his body pressed against yours, his scent surrounding you. It was all too much and not enough. "Don't stop," you gasped, "Don't-ah - don't stop, please, f-faster."

He groaned at your words, his movements becoming more frantic, more desperate. He was losing control, his grip on you tightening. "You— you feel so damn good," he gasped, his forehead resting on your shoulder. "I'm not gonna last much longer angel, you're driving me insane."

You were close, the coils inside you about to snap. You needed more, you needed it to last just a bit longer, even though you didn't know if you could take it. But Dean knew what you needed, he was always so in sync with your body.

"Cum for me one more time sweetheart," he murmured in your ear, his voice rough and commanding. "I want to feel you come all over me. I want to hear you say my name. Just let go for me, my beautiful girl."

And with his words, you were lost, your body seizing as pleasure washed over you. You gasped, your hands clutching at him, his name a strangled cry.

Dean felt you tighten around him, and it was too much, he bit down on your shoulder, his own release hitting him like a wave. He shuddered, his body tensing, his fingers digging into your flesh. "Fuck," he groaned, his voice hoarse. "Sweetheart, you're gonna make me cum again, ‘gonna cum all in you.”

It was then you felt it. He slowed, stilling, his body shaking slightly. He looked at you, his expression a mix of satisfaction and exhaustion. "That.. that was…" he trailed off, his voice slightly raspy.

The room is still thick with heat, your body boneless against the mattress, breath coming in slow, uneven pulls. The last echoes of your moans still hang in the air, mixing with Dean’s heavy exhales as he finally— finally—collapses beside you.

For a moment, neither of you move. His arm is still hooked around your waist, his grip loose now, but his fingers are still there, brushing over your skin like he’s making sure you’re real. Like he’s not ready to let you go yet.

Then, in that low, raspy voice that makes your stomach flip, he murmurs, “You good, babe?”

You make a sound— half a hum, half a sigh— and barely manage to nod. That seems to be enough for him. He chuckles, voice still rough around the edges, and leans in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your temple. “Yeah, I gotcha. Just breathe for me, baby.”

His hands move without thinking, smoothing over your back, tracing lazy circles into your skin, as if mapping out every place he touched, every mark he left. When his fingers ghost over a spot he might’ve grabbed too hard, he tuts under his breath. “Shit, hope I didn’t go too hard on you.” His lips follow where his hands were, warm and soft against your shoulder. “Might owe you a damn back rub after that one.”

Eventually, he grumbles and pulls away— just for a second—to grab the water bottle from the nightstand. He presses it into your hand, watching you with that lazy, smitten smile as you take a few slow sips. “There we go,” he murmurs, brushing a few damp strands of hair from your face.

And then, without another word, he tugs you against his chest, settling you into the warmth of his body like you belong there. Like he needs you there.

His breath is warm against your hair as he mumbles, half-asleep already, “M’not moving. You’re stuck with me, sweetheart.”

So much for stealing a fucking flannel.

taglist; @lieutenantchaos @bejeweledinterludes ⊹ ࣪ ˖

⤿ wanna be tagged in my fics?.. don't be shy! @ taglist.

tysm for reading! more works incoming @ library. ⊹₊⟡⋆

[iamthatonefangirl]

So I'm curious on your take on the winter soldier causing some genuine damage by accident in the middle of sex.. like . Maybe forgetting his strength or something

I love your writing ❤️

ok I fwt anon... here's how I imagine it would go

(lmk if you'd like to choose an emoji!!)

also disclaimer: homicidal ideations (NOT towards reader I promise.) fully consensual by both parties although not explicitly stated. pre-established relationship. dark themes. read at your own discretion.

~~~

like always, he's up on his knees behind you, while your own knees are digging into the sheets. you're holding yourself up on your forearms and whining, keening into every thrust.

there's nothing more than the sounds of his hips pounding against yours, the little breaths he takes with every movement, and your endless moans as he gives it to you just the way you both like it.

he's holding your hips, moving you against him in time with his rhythm as he fucks you.

maybe you try to move, try to adjust your positioning, and as you do, his next thrust hits wrong. it's some fluke thing that makes you scream out in pain.

he's immediately taken aback, hands falling from where he's gripping you, removing all contact entirely. his eyes open wide, scanning you from head to toe, unsure of what the fuck just happened as you fall to your side. you bring a hand to your abdomen, clutching your stomach in pain, and your other hand comes to your face, biting down on your knuckle as you try to hold it together, and try like hell not to cry.

you don't know what the hell just happened. he doesn't know what the hell just happened. but something went majorly wrong and now you're cowering in pain, curled in a ball, burying your face in the pillow and hiding your tears from him.

his mind is almost blank, staring at you, hands moving even further away from you so he can't hurt you any more than he already has, apparently. he's trying to figure out what he did wrong, what's wrong with you, what he's supposed to do now??

you lay there as the cramping in your stomach begins, hissing through your teeth. he glances down to see a trail of blood dripping between your thighs.

you're the one person this isn't supposed to happen to.

the one person he doesn't want to see bleed. the one person he doesn't want to see crying in pain. the one person he doesn't want to inflict damage on.

he's not a man of words.

so in less than a second, he's up, running for whatever he can find to help you. you assume he's not coming back, and through the cramping and stinging pain, you mentally plan the way you're going to curse him out later for leaving you here like this.

he comes back, carelessly throwing a water bottle next to you as he carefully maneuvers you onto your back and brings a warm cloth between your legs.

you just lay there as he cleans up the small trickle of blood and holds the cloth in place for a few minutes.

don't bleed out. don't bleed out. please.

when it comes to his victims? he loves watching the blood pour from every orifice, from every nook and cranny as the life slowly leaves their eyes, their skin going pale and cold. it feels like heaven to him.

not you.

this is his own personal hell.

after a while, he gets up and discards the cloth in the bathroom. you're not hissing in pain anymore, recovering quickly enough. he stands in the corner of the room and debates what to do.

you watch him for a minute, holding eye contact with him as you try, and fail, to read what he's thinking.

he's thinking about leaving and never coming back, if only to keep you safe from him. from what he's capable of, from what he can't, won't do to you.

"please," you say calmly, holding out a hand to him.

he waits. thirty seconds go by. a minute.

you roll your eyes and look up to the ceiling, letting your hand fall to your side. you should've known better than to ask.

and then the weight on the bed shifts next to you, and he's wrapping himself around you, burying his head in the crook of your neck. he looks so small and vulnerable in a way you've never seen.

you thread your fingers through his hair as he breathes you in. you can hear it, his shaky inhales, as he listens to your heartbeat and feels the heat of your body against his. the signs of life he usually puts out are all still there, thank god.

he's cautious, ever so cautious to not put any weight on you below the waist. if he caused you any more pain, he'd be out the door without hesitation.

he clings to you like never before, and you hold him tightly. you know what it means. this is his version of an apology.

the closest he can get to telling you he cares.

~~~

I'm literally a sucker for this weird, fuck ass relationship they have. they're so weird I love them. send more ideas.

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[creati-bunny]

ACTOR! GOJO SATORU SEETHES IN JEALOUSY WHILE HE WATCHES YOU PASSIONATELY MAKEOUT WITH ACTOR! GETO SUGURU. It was making him batshit crazy when he read the script and found out that a scene where you and Suguru have to make out for the plot; an innocent cuddle session with your best friend—leading to a supposed sex scene. Satoru has never felt so furious that he has no control over the flow of the plot; he is the main lead, so why does Suguru get the best part?

It was never his intention to fall in love with you, his co-actress. Although you were one of the beauties, it was your aloof attitude that he became smitten with. Many of his co-actors and actresses knew that Satoru tended to have casual flirtations with them—leading to them hooking up with him and even stupidly falling for him; you were not an exception to his advances.

Except this time, it was him who fell for you. Satoru became obsessed with the thought of him chasing you. How would you know about his true damn feelings when he keeps them a secret, acting as if one glance from you will not melt him into a puddle?

“Nngh..”

You let out a muffled pleased moan, your arms wrap around Suguru’s neck while both of your lips are connected to each other. The loud smacking and exchanging of saliva can heavily be heard by everyone with how close the mic is. The vein on Satoru’s neck twitched, glaring at the scene with despise. His vibrant blue eyes bore holes into the sly hands of Suguru’s, which are already fondling the soft skin of your waist. The grip on his water bottle tightened immensely, seeing how the steamy makeout session progressively becomes hotter—Suguru’s hands are dragging you towards the bedroom, his lips attaching to the sensitive pulse point of your neck.

“Beautiful..”

Damn right, you are.

Suguru takes off his shirt, your eyes scanning over his toned body; you licked your lower lip, before your eyes meet his gorgeous purple ones. Your makeout session quickly turned steamier—letting Suguru’s hands take off your clothes, revealing your lacy black bra and panties that made Suguru’s eyes roll back with how sexy you look. Both of you were not following the script anymore, letting the two of you just be with the flow of the scene.

Suguru does not know how lucky he is, Satoru thinks. Breaking down the aloof facade of the actress he is sweet on is one of the goals Satoru needs to succeed in his life. He is supposed to be the one pleasuring you, already forgetting the fact that you two are only acting.

The veins on Satoru’s forehead became visible and twitching, watching how Suguru drags his tongue over your sternum down to your stomach and even lower, making you enclose your thighs around his head. The angle of the camera cannot capture the moment after Suguru takes off your panties and kisses your inner thighs—the lower parts of your bodies were hidden by a blanket, just right enough to cover your lower stomach; the scene giving an impression that Suguru is giving you head. With how you tug his hair, and your hips were bucking up while his thick fingers grip your thighs firmly, Suguru is having way too much fun in smelling your cunt and leaving a mark in your right inner thigh—which he is not supposed to do; but shit, you are too damn good at this.

Satoru gulps the saliva down his throat, seeing Suguru unclasp your bra, revealing your breasts—fuck, they are gorgeous. Your nipples are perked up, and he hopes it is due to the cool air of the scenery, not because you were fucking turned on by Suguru’s humping. Satoru crosses his legs, acting pissy while trying to hide the growing problem in his pants.

When Suguru’s lips wrapped around one of your nipples, you bite your lip to muffle your delicious whimpers, secretly getting turned on with how good he can make you feel—Satoru cannot fathom the way his cheeks are heating up, the infuriating constriction of his briefs around his dick increased as he fully became hard; you did not care about the eyes watching you two pretend to have sex, when in fact, you can feel Suguru’s intention to make this real. He drags his lips over your ear, whispering something that does not reach the mic.

“I want you…”

Suguru pressed his lips against yours before his hips made a circular grinding motion, making you let out a shaky breath at the friction. The two of you were already humping, grinding—acting as if Suguru was already thrusting his cock inside you; you let out a gasp, feeling his clothed cock harden, desperate to make his way inside your pussy. Suguru’s hands were enclosed with yours; he looked at you with a lazy, handsome smirk, knowing you could feel his boner brushing against your pussy lips; god, why did he take off your panties? What’s more, he was not wearing a genital guard. His bulge brushes against the evidence of your arousal, his briefs were not enough to conceal its girth; it did not help that it arouses you even further. Suguru bit his lip, a sultry groan was threatening its way out of his mouth—as you’re not the only one who is feeling good.

Satoru tries to control himself from whipping his dick out and rubbing himself. Your moans sound too breathy and realistic for it to be acting; with the unscripted sweat forming on your forehead and Suguru’s, he felt enraged knowing what was going on was real. He gritted his teeth in jealousy, oh how he wished to punch the lucky bastard in the face.

The climax hits, as both you and Suguru let out moans and groans, signaling that both of you have reached your orgasm. However, Suguru did not stop; he attaches his lips once again over yours, prodding his tongue inside your mouth—his hands make their way over to your waist, one of his hands itch to get a feel of your pussy. His eyes glinted in amusement, feeling the wet texture of your pussy lips meet his fingers; you let out a whine, feeling embarrassed when his thumb brushes against your clit once.

Oh, he will have fun with you and Satoru later.

“Cut!”

image is by sugu_ruu_ on X

I ONLY WRITE FOR FUN. I DO NOT INTEND TO REWRITE THE PERSONALITY OF THE CHARACTERS AND CLAIM THEM AS CANON. I AM AWARE OF THE COMPLEXITY OF THE CHARACTERS PRESENTED.

[littlelamy]

Rafe x Girl next door type/Sweet!Pouge Reader: He sees her at a party and he sets his eyes on her, wanting to hook up with her for the night and ditch her the next day. He gets surprised thought when he actually talks to her, how kind, sweet and genuine she is # and to also find out that she is the relationship girlfriend type that would never have sex with someone random # but does not end it right there with him then trying to find someone else for the night but actually find himself drawn to her and wanting to take care of her/protect her and offers to drive her home (and whatever else you can think of, just a suggestion)

lamy's notes: i hope you like it, angel!

the party is in full swing, neon lights flickering against the walls, bodies packed tight with the heady scent of sweat and liquor thick in the air. rafe cameron leans against the kitchen counter, a red solo cup dangling from his fingers, half-full of something he’d stopped tasting an hour ago. his sharp blue eyes scan the crowd, predatory, practiced, already picking out his next conquest.

then he sees you.

it isn’t like the other girls he usually finds himself entangled with. no plunging neckline, no practiced sultry gaze or desperate attempt to get his attention. you’re different—sweet-looking, soft around the edges, the kind of girl who smiles at people like she means it. the kind of girl who doesn’t belong here.

and fuck, does that make him want you more.

you’re laughing, head tilted back just slightly, talking to a couple of your friends who don’t seem nearly as enthralled by you as they should be. you aren’t drinking, he notices. just standing there with some soda in your hand, cheeks flushed but not from alcohol. from joy. genuine, untainted joy.

rafe smirks. this will be easy. the sweet ones always melt in his hands, naive enough to believe whatever story he spins, desperate for that kind of attention from someone like him. he pushes off the counter and makes his way toward you, predatory confidence in every step.

“didn’t peg you as the party type,” he murmurs, sliding in beside you. your head turns, and when those warm, wide eyes meet his, something in his stomach twists.

you smile. actually smile at him. no coyness, no pretense. just a simple, friendly, fucking devastating smile. “yeah, i guess i’m not,” you admit, a little sheepish. “but my friends wanted to come, so here i am.”

rafe arches a brow. “and you’re not drinking?”

you shake your head. “not really my thing.”

his usual lines, the easy teases and flirtations, catch in his throat. there’s nothing to latch onto here, no feigned innocence waiting to be shattered. just…you. real. unaffected. completely unlike anyone else in this house.

“not your thing, huh?” he echoes, tilting his head. “so what is?”

you give a small shrug, your fingers curling around your soda cup, you begin to ramble about random things. “i don’t know. movie nights, bonfires on the beach, making pancakes at midnight just because. you know, wholesome stuff.”

wholesome.

jesus christ.

rafe hasn’t felt this off-kilter in years. he came here tonight looking for a quick fuck, someone to drag upstairs and forget about the next morning. and yet, here he is, utterly hooked on you talking about making pancakes at midnight.

“you’re not from around here, are you?”

you laugh, light and warm. “born and raised.”

“huh.” he studies you, trying to pinpoint exactly what makes you so different. maybe it’s the way you look at him, not like he’s some trophy to be won or some cautionary tale to be avoided, but just…like a person.

he doesn’t know what to do with that.

“so,” he tries again, leaning in slightly. “if you’re not into parties, what’s keeping you here?”

you tilt your head, studying him right back. “good company, i guess.”

rafe isn’t used to being caught off guard. isn’t used to having the script flipped on him like this. but instead of pissing him off, it just makes him more intrigued.

for a split second, he thinks about cutting his losses, about finding someone else who’d be easier, who wouldn’t make his chest feel tight in a way that has nothing to do with lust. but the thought of walking away from you right now?

doesn’t sit right.

“let me drive you home,” the words are out before he even realizes he’s said them.

your brows lift slightly, surprised but not suspicious. “you sure? i wouldn’t want to take you away from the party.”

he smirks. “believe me, sweetheart, nothing here’s worth sticking around for.”

you hesitate for a moment, then nod. “alright. that’d be nice.”

rafe has never been interested in nice before. nice doesn’t get you anywhere. nice is weak. but as you walk beside him out of the house, trusting him in a way he knows he hasn’t earned, he thinks—

maybe nice isn’t so bad.

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @rafesbabygirlx @drewsephrry

[strayingawayy]

it's okay, i'll tell you again...

...the one where you keep forgetting but jisung is patient and a man in love.

this fic is for me, mostly. lol.

"-and then changbin was like ‘jisung-ah! no one can rap those words together, are you insane?’ and i swear i was about to prove him wrong, but then seungmin stole one of my two americanos and i got distracted-"

jisung is talking fast, words tumbling over each other, hands moving animatedly as he paces the room. he’s vibrating with excitement, barefoot in sweatpants, hoodie slipping off one shoulder, hair still a little damp from his shower and the slightest of stubble prominent on his face.

you watch him from the couch, heart swelling. he’s happy, your baby is happy. that much is obvious. his voice is light, effortless, full of something big.

but there’s a problem.

you have no fucking idea what he’s talking about.

your hands clench slightly against your lap. the words all make sense individually, but strung together, they slip through your fingers like water. your brain is still foggy, edges blurred, time folding in on itself. you remember what happened days before, the dizziness, the cold tile floor. you remember jisung’s hands, warm and steady, his voice pulling you back as your body seized, but now.

now, you’re sitting here, watching the person you love talk about something clearly very important to him and you don’t remember what it is.

jisung spins on his heel, still grinning. "and the best part jagi, lix thinks this is the best track i’ve ever done. like for a sub-unit like, no joke, he-"

he stops.

his expression shifts, just slightly. the kind of change only someone who really knows him would catch. the flicker of hesitation. the way his fingers twitch, mid-gesture, and he has to hold in his excitement for a minute.

"you okay?" his voice is softer now, eyes too. still warm, still jisung, but quieter.

you swallow. "i- uh- yeah. i just.." your throat closes. "ji, i don’t…"

his eyes scan your face, his lips unknowingly puckering out in a slight pout. he waits.

your fingers twist in the hem of your, no-his, hoodie actually. "i don’t remember what you’re talking about."

a pause.

jisung doesn’t move, doesn’t react the way you expect. no frustration, no disappointment. just silent understanding.

"you don’t?"

you shake your head, ashamed. fuckfuckfuck. "i'm so sorry, i should, right? i mean, it’s about your album-"

"mixtape: dominate," he supplies, voice gentle.

"yeah." your breathe wobbles. "i knew about this, didn’t i?"

his gaze softens. he walks over, sits beside you, knee knocking against yours. "yeah," he says, tone making it sound like it's that simple, that acceptable for you to forget about it. "but it’s okay."

your hands tighten around your sleeves. "it’s not okay," you whisper. "it’s your album, jisung. something you're so excited about. i should remember."

jisung is silent for a moment.

"hey." he nudges you lightly. "look at me."

you do, because that's all you can do now.

and he smiles. not out of pity, not forced. just soft, unwavering. jisung. yours.

"you wanna know about it again?"

you blink. "you don’t mind?"

his expression turns almost amused. "sweetheart, i could talk about this forever. you’re honestly giving me an excuse to yap."

your chest aches.

jisung leans back against the couch, tilting his head toward you. "alright. let’s start from the beginning."

and then he tells you, with his hands intertwined with yours and head resting on your shoulder.

about the late nights in the studio, the way he kept reworking the same verse until chan threatened to unplug his mic, something that hadn't happened since his pre-debut days. about the lyric that nearly got scrapped because they felt it didn't have the same energy without the swear words. about the way the whole group hyped each other up, him, changbin and chan staying late just to perfect the production, minho recording harmonies at 3 a.m. with a voice half gone from exhaustion.

he tells you about his part, how his verse came together, how he spent hours layering the ad-libs, how he poured everything into this.

and you listen.

you listen, even though you should remember. even though it stings, even though the guilt still lingers at the edges.

but jisung just keeps talking, filling the empty spaces, filling you with the pieces you lost.

and somehow, it doesn’t feel so bad.

because it just feels like it's enough. like it always has, with jisung by your side, hand in yours.

[sleepy-fiction]

Gold Ring.

-sebastian solace x reader

2k words

syn: he was a married man, yet he forgets when he's with you.

tgs: fluff, sfw (read a/n), sappy, feel-good, comfort, genderless reader

A/N: guys NO hate to Zerum at all. I just liked the idea of sebastian having a wife but learning true love and self worth from you. This fic is fluff sfw, but there are very mild dirty descriptions used sometimes. MDNI

Predator eyes loom through the darkened abyss. Sweaty, slobbering, hungry for a quench. He can't fight it. He knew you before you met him. He's seen the way you huddle to yourself, the way you persisted in this hell, the way you crawl to him whenever you're scared. How you count down the floors until you can rest-- on him.

He was the first once to make a move.

You bargained to sleep in his little room, yet you laid rest so far away from him. He didn't understand the flithy, possessiveness that growled in his hungry belly. It sent a pissed shiver from the tops of his head that rattled down to his tail.

He remembers the flinch you made at the sight.

He knows that he shouldn't, but fuck he wanted you closer then. No, he wants you closer, all the time.

He never knew romance until he pulled you over to him, the way he wrapped his tail around you like a snake. The way he blew it off with his typical banter, but God help him, the way he remembers your sleeping form carrying a smile throughout your dreams. Content- about him.

Times with his wife were never like this. He didn't know he was capable of feeling such intense desire. He's kissed, held, and he's lpved on and received. It remembers how the saying goes. If you love them, then you'd let him go. He went without a fuss here, content with the idea of his wife enjoying their freedom. But God knows, the idea of you, some inmate who waltzed into his life, leaving? No, it couldn't happen.

It was the pining that eventually sold his fate.

The yearning.

He'd find rocks the colors of your eyes to collect, most likely debris scattered from all the grubby inmates swarming the place just so he could keep something of yours nearby. Whenever he heard the echoing sounds of footsteps, the crawling through his vents, he perfectly memorized your sound yet still found his heart beating in hope even when he knew it couldn't be you.

He had grown overly accustomed to your dynamic. How you acted in playful defiance but respected him and his boundaries so much. He's never met an expendable quite like you, one not pushy- touchy- or downright evil. Even in a group setting, as you sometimes venture into a teams. You're always batting those pretty little eyes at him, saying thank you and apologizing on their behalf.

You're overly aware of him. Scanning his face, always checking for his contentment.

It was cute. You were discreet like a mouse.

For some reason, you had some staring problem. Always gazing with those eyes. So full of admiration for the brutish monster he had become. Those glances certainly didn't help him. You had to be some freak to like someone like him the way he is now. What about him could ever be attractive?

Don't think he doesn't notice the way you fidget in embarrassment whenever he tucks his hair behind his ears.

You get all shy when he gets close. You get shy whenever he escalates your banter- albeit painfully teasing you- but still-- it affects you.

He affects you.

That's a sensation that makes him question his self worth, and your character.

If someone as good as you finds him lovely. Then is he really? Could he really be...

His three blue hands.

Could they ever be loveable again?

It's that question that finally makes all the symptoms that has been building over the months of you being here finally click.

God he's.

He's falling in love with you.

He swallows thick, unable to read the document before his eyes.

Ba-dum, Ba-dum, Ba-dum

His heart races in his chest, his snaggle teeth gnawing against his lip, his eyes shutting impossibly shut. His hands fidget together, and the feeling of cold metal against (what used to be) his ring finger, and guilt swells in his belly.

He's in love with you. When all this time he was working hard to return to her.

He's in love with you. He heart yearns to leave with you and Painter.

He's in love with you. He doesn't feel the same about his wife. His identity is crumbling before his very soul, and it's terrifying.

His only anchor had been his wife the entire time.

His grip goes vice over his wedding ring. A ringing hiss, and a weeping cry flees his meekly throat.

He had a decent life. A woman who loved him.

But if this feeling he's feeling right now for you is love, then...

He shakes his head, his left hand slapping over his mouth, his right still coddling the ring on his smaller hand.

He can't.

He can't think that way.

In no magical universe will he ever get to have you. You'll leave here, he can see it now. It reflects in your eyes, it's this during gleam that no other expendable has.

He'll be left here to rot.

He needs to accept that and not get--

"Sebastian?"

His blood runs cold, his body jolting upright with a fury.

Fuck. He didn't even hear you enter.

A flashlight clicks, shinning at his belly.

He sees you.

You, who always calls his name so softly. So tenderly, full of respect and admiration. You who makes him feel like a person again. You who remembers things about him, you who points lights at his belly because you remember what hurts him.

He can't stop the tear that rolls out.

"Oh no," your voice dips heartbreaking soft as you set the flashlight down, "What's wrong, Sebastian?" You approach him slowly pausing in front of him with your palms up, asking with your body, with your eyes if you could touch him.

He laughs at you. The sound croaks in bittersweetness.

He leans down to your hands, resting his face in your palms. You're so warm, it makes his heart flutter. "It looks you've caught me at a bad time," he says sing-songly.

Your eyes are full of understanding, the way you smile. "Seems so," you say, brimming to see he was okay. You're giving him space, he hates how he begins to yearn.

He can't help it when you're like this.

Sebastian strains.

"Everyone needs to cry sometimes, especially in this place. I cry, too. A lot." You whisper.

But you're still smiling.

God.

He hates you.

He giggles. The sound is so out of character, so school-girlishly giddy. "Fuck," he grimaces as he burries his cheeks into your palm. He knows he cannot physically blush anymore, but he still feels the shame.

He's turning soft.

Soft for such an airhead.

He swallows nervously, looking up to peer into your eyes. You're admiring him again. Your shifty pupils drag up and down his features again and again and again like a broken record. Holding your lips agape, and sucking in swallow breathes, as if the faintest movement from every breathing too intensely would disrupt the view.

He can't take it.

His hands shoot out for you, one on your hip, the other around your waist, the final caressing your back. You squeak as he pulls you completely into him, your feet rising from the floor. You rest your head dazily on his shoulder, as he slithers onto the dark, farther away from your abandoned light.

When you finally stopped moving, you could feel a wall behind Sebastian, as you straddled a leg on each side of his tail, your knees against the floor.

"Sebastian? I can't see you," you whine.

"You don't need to look at me..." He hushes.

Your hands find his cheeks, they're all warmed up from you.

"I need to," you lean in closer, rubbing your nose against his nostril slits. His breath shudders.

"Pull it," He whispers.

You already know as you reach and pull his antenna. A dim warm light illuminates his face, and you smile contently.

Your hands parade through his hair, tucking the strands of his hair back away from his face on both sides; the way you've seen him do many times before.

You've forced him to admit it now.

He's something worth gawking at.

Even like this.

Embarrassment is a surprisingly delicious taste for his belly.

You slide back in his arms, as his hands lean back and fall to his side. All except for his right, which cups a healthy amount of your hip to keep you steady on his tail.

Now it's his turn to admire you.

"Hmm, pretty thing," He mumbles. His smaller hand reaches up your body, his gold ring flashing in the eyes of both of you.

He tenses.

You notice. Your hands rest on his shoulders as you lean in closer to him.

"Sebastian." You blink, empathy driving your veins.

He already knows.

"I used to have a wife. Long before... This happened to me," He whispers it to the air.

Now it's your turn to feel a deep pang in your heart. You know you shouldn't say it, but the words burst out, "Did you love her?"

You watch as a strained smile pulls at him, "N-Not... Not as much as..." He swallows abruptly, "yuh... Y-You."

It all clicks for you.

He's sad over guilt?

You giggle-- and it's almost as painfully giddy as the one he let out before. But it's not enough as thr giggle turns into a laugh. The sound is bright and refreshing to his ears, like rays of forlorn sunshine kissing him. He can't help the way his ears twitch in pure glee.

He'll drink up this sound forever.

"Little cheater," you giggle into his skin as you kiss his cheeks.

He's deeply affected by this! It's not funny!

"Hey." He can't seem to reprimand you, though. "Bastard," He hushes.

You break away finally. And before you could lean in to plant more kisses, his free hands are on you again. Trailing up your body, up your chest (with him seeming to slow down a bit for that part), then to your shoulders, to roll down to your lovely hands. Lovely hands that he moves to place on his meaty chest.

"Come here," he finally commands, and it's like your knees go weak. The two of you meet in the middle, your lips melting into one another like starved animals. The way you nip and howl in between fervent friction-- friction unknown tp you both since entering this hell hole.

His kisses are filled with longing, desire, full of shivers, full of breathy moans. Sensations that send waves of shivers down to the tips of his tail.

You pull apart to suck on his bottom lip, and with a grunt, Sebastian's mouth cracks open obediently. His large tongue rolls out of his mouth and deep into yours. It's stuffiness enough to make you choke if he wasn't so careful- and if the feeling wasn't so erotic.

Your little alien.

You caress his face all over, your fingertips finding his twitching ears. You pull apart with a hearty smack of the lips, a thin trail of saliva rolling out from you from his large tongue. He picks it up before it could fall to your chin, a satisfied hum from him.

You kiss his round jaw, thumbs caressing circles into his under eyes.

"I love you," Sebastian kisses it into your skin.

"I love you too," you sigh wholeheartedly. You lean in and kiss his tiny third eye, and he hums sing-songly.

Your arms slide around his neck, burying your face into the crook of his jaw, relaxing your body deep into him with a sigh.

You two were so peaceful. You barely noticed the sagging lethal drowsiness in your veins. You haven't slept in... Haven't slept in....

Snorrreeeee...

Sebastian laughs at you. You fell right asleep, just like that? His tail wraps around you like a snake, as his kisses make themselves known to your forehead.

"Goodnight, expendable..." He snickers.

And the gold ring slips from his finger.

To have a future with the benefit of you being there, it's more than just a dream come true.

You accepted him.

He can accept himself, too.

[classyrbf]

THE MAN I USED TO KNOW! #2 — SUGURU GETO

SYNOPSIS...you feel suguru has grown distant your relationship, leaving you lonely and confused, so when you confront him in hopes to find reassurance, you find out the worst instead

INFO...geto x fem!reader, angst, mentions of cheating, mentions of breakup, arguing in public, no comfort, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

part 1

It’s been a month since you left the apartment. A month since he’s last heard your voice. A month since he’s last seen you. He can’t tell what’s so different now, what makes him feel like he suddenly cares about you and how things ended. In his mind it doesn’t make any sense. How could someone be said he fell out of love with, cheated on, suddenly be plaguing his heart like a disease. You were hard to get rid of.

He stays up at night, staring up at the ceiling after trying hours and hours to fall asleep, only to fail. The house is so quiet you could hear a pin drop and the bed feels so empty and cold. Not a sound could be heard, not your small breaths as you slept, or your touch when you cuddled against him in the night because you wanted to feel loved by him.

He twisted and turned in the bed, flipping over to your side, staring at the pillow. He swears he could smell your perfume faintly on the fabric, but that could be his mind playing tricks on him. It’s been doing that ever since. Dinner was always takeout, never the warm home cooked meals that you always had prepared. He was starting to get sick of the taste, opting out of eating in general because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t replicate your cooking.

A deep sigh leaves his lips as he sit up, feet planting on the hardwood floor. His phone rings loudly, illuminating the dark room. He slowly turns his head, looking at the caller ID. It was the woman who he threw everything away for temporary pleasure. He’d been ignoring her calls ever since that day and he doesn’t know what overcame him, but he decided to finally pick up the call. “Hello?” He answered, voice scruffy and gravely.

“Suguru! Finally you pick up! Why have you been ignoring my texts and calls?” She asked frantically.

He rolled his eyes, shutting them. “It’s the middle of the night can we not do this?” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, shaking his head.

“Is it because of her? Are you two still together? I thought you said you were going to end things with her eventually? What changed?” She was asking question after question which only made him more irritated than he already was. “I miss you, Sugu,” she pouted.

The nickname made him wince, reminding him of how gently you used to call his name. “I need to go.” He abruptly hung up the call. His thumb hovered over his screen, pressing on his messages and scrolling to find your name. His jaw clenched at the sight of the contact name he had for you, forgetting to change it.

“My girl” it read.

He clicked on the contact, eyes scanning over the last messages that were sent. It was the day he told you, the day it all fell apart.

Geto: might be a little late for dinner

My girl: no worries, I’ll keep it warm :)

Even when you were falling apart you always treated him with kindness. It was never about the arguments, not with you. Yeah, sure you’d fight with each other, screaming matches back and forth. But, that’s normal in a relationship. Sometimes things lead to disagreements. It’s only when he took it too far, grew distant, fell out of love, cheated, while you were at home, waiting for him each and every night.

“Fuck,” he whispers under his breath, contemplating to text you. He stares at the screen for a few more seconds before deciding to close his phone, placing it back down on the nightstand.

The smell of fresh brewed coffee filled the air, a quiet atmosphere settled around you as you sat at a small table, scrolling through social media. It was a cold early morning, soft snow flurries fell from the cloudy sky and painted the ground in a blinding white. It was the perfect day to relax in a cozy coffee shop and enjoy yourself, something you haven’t done in a long time.

From time to time, your brain wanders to that night you found out Suguru was cheating on you. It still makes your heart twinge, an odd feeling in your chest. You’d cry countless times in one day, wondering what it was that you did, how you could have been better. There were so many questions that you still had to ask, but you weren’t sure if you wanted answers. Sometimes ignorance is bliss. You’d think about them, wondering if Suguru and whoever the woman he was seeing were now happy together, living in the apartment that you once shared with him.

You sipped on your coffee, the hot liquid trickling down your throat. The cold breeze from the outside blew into the coffee shop as the door opened for a few seconds, the bell above letting out a high pitched ding.

“Morning, could I small latte, please?” The familiar voice made your body freeze in place, eyebrows raising in slight shock. Lifting your head, you seen the familiar long, black, silky hair. Quickly, you looked away, scrolling on your phone. The longer you looked at him, the more afraid you’d threaten to break down in tears, maybe even scream at him. “Thank you,” he softly spoke.

It felt like time froze, the more you sat here, the harder it felt to get up. Did he already see you? Maybe he’s ignoring you too? While your thoughts were telling you one thing, trying to convince you of some other reality, you could feel eyes burning into your skull. You didn’t dare turn around to see if he was looking at you. With flared nostrils, you inhaled deeply, clearly your throat to rid of the awkwardness, mindlessly scrolling on your phone to make it look like you were busy.

It was getting to the point where you couldn’t take it anymore. As soon as the barista called for his coffee, you were quick to stand from your seat, grabbing your wallet and coffee off the table and making a dash for the door. The cold winter breeze hit your skin as soon as you stepped out, a cold chill sending down your spine.

“Y/n.” You halted in your tracks at the sound of your name. With closed eyes, you let out a deep sigh. Do you keep walking? Do you turn around and face him? Would you be able to keep your composure for even a second if your eyes meet his?

The snow under your feet stuck to your boots, heels twisting into the ground. You were now facing him. It felt like every memory that you shared with him came flashing back in an instant—good and bad. Your heart felt conflicted, knowing you still had time to walk away. His mouth partially opened like he wanted to say something, anything, but nothing came out. He looked defeated, stuck in place. His eyes could do nothing but scan your features, search for any hint that you were felt the same for him like he felt for you. But he highly doubts that. “How have you been?” He asked.

Clenching your jaw, you narrowed your eyes at him, stuffing your hands into your pockets. “Fine.” You shrugged. Your tone was bitter and cold, one that he wasn’t familiar with. There you both stood in the middle of the sidewalk, snowflakes kissing your skin, stinging your cheeks. “What do you want, Geto?”

The use of his last name makes his heart sink into his stomach, a weird feeling in his chest. He bit the inside of his cheek, shaking his head with pinched brows. “I…I don’t know,” he said barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry, y/n. I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t get to say you’re sorry when you don’t mean it. You’re only saying it because you got caught. I don’t think you understand what you did. At all.” Surprisingly, your voice was calm and composed compared to the last time you spoke with him. It was hard not to lash out, but you knew it wouldn’t make you feel any better than you already did. “I loved you, Geto. It’s sad that you didn’t realize that sooner. Look,” you step closer to him, “I don’t know where our relationship took such a turn, I don’t know the exact moment you fell out of love, but I genuinely hope you find someone who is worth your time.” You softly smiled.

“You were worth my time!” He said with desperation, almost like he was begging.

“No, I wasn’t. And it’s fine, I accept that.” You nod your head at him. “You can feel regret, you can change your mind, but you can’t undo what you did,” you state.

“I miss you, y/n, so fucking much. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat. All I ever think about is you, how I hurt you, brushed you aside—”

“Just stop, please. Nothing is going to change my mind, no matter what you say.” You chew on your bottom lip, a look of sincerity in your eyes.

“No, don’t say that. Come on. Please,” he begs, watery eyes looking at you.

“Let me go, Geto. It’s best for the both of us.” You felt your eyes sting with tears, your vision blurry as you tried your hardest to hold them back. You didn’t want him to see you cry again, he didn’t deserve it.

“What if I don’t want to? What if I can’t?” He had a pained expression on his face, closing the distance between you two. It’s the closest he’s been able to get you, the closest he’s felt to you in long time. He doesn’t mean physically, he means emotionally, mentally. It shouldn’t be under these circumstances, not when he’s ripped your heart in two. It should be when he’s holding you at home, his lips on yours as he tells you how much he loves you, because he does love you. He realized it when you walked out that door.

“Then I’ll make the decision for you.” You turned away from him beginning to walk away, the cold wing hitting your skin, your eyes burning.

Geto pulled you back by your hand, your touch warm and soft in his. “I’m not letting you walk away again.”

“Let me go, Geto—”

“I love you, y/n. I need you. I wanna feel your love again, your warmth, your laughs, I want it all.” His grip grew tighter, a tear falling from his eye as he stared at you. A frown formed on his face, the tears he was holding back all this time came rushing out.

“You didn’t want it then. What makes you think you deserve it now? Huh? Now you know how it feels.” Your tone was harsh, like sending daggers straight into his heart. You snatched your hand from his. “You cheated over a petty argument, not once, not twice, but several times you’d meet up with her, lie to my face! Do you know what went through my head? How disgusted I felt with myself? I was questioning my worth, wondering if I was enough for anyone! I shouldn’t fucking feel like that!” You pushed him, hot tears warming your cold cheeks. “Leave me alone! Please! Just do this one thing for me.” You sniffled, your feet moving before you could think, walking away from him.

Once more, he watched you slip away, your figure disappearing into the snow. He swallowed thickly, looking down at the cup of fresh coffee he had yet to take a sip from. He tossed it. The content spilling on spilling on the ground and staining the glistening snow. He no longer had an appetite for anything anymore. The pit inside his chest grew larger, sucking him in like a black hole.

He stood there for what felt like minutes, hoping, waiting to see you walking towards him again. But the wind just howled loudly and the cars drove past without a care in the world. Everyone has their own lives to live, their own stories. Though, in his story, he’d live with regret, guilt, and shame until the very end. Even if he does manage to find someone else, love someone else, live his life to the fullest, just know you’d always be in back of his mind as a reminder of every horrible thing about himself.