#oh to be so familiar in both body and mind. oh to be so on the cusp of love but never quite make it. grahghghgh

[gf2bellamy]

Could you do something like spencer x reader getting kidnapped together and unsub hurting her in front of him, really angst but fluffy at the end. Thanks!

bruise — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n) content warning: reader being kidnapped and tied up , reader being knocked out, mention of having a bad headache and having bruises a/n: hii thanks for your request ! hope you like this

Your breath came in shallow gasps as you stared at Spencer, fear tightening in your chest. The dim, flickering light overhead cast shadows across his face.

His jaw was tight, his fingers flexing instinctively against the ropes binding his wrists, but there was nothing he could do.

“We’ll be okay,” Spencer murmured, his voice reassuring despite the uncertainty in his own eyes. “They’re gonna come get us.”

You nodded, but the reassurance didn’t quite reach your heart. You wanted to believe him, but the pounding of your pulse, the cold ache in your limbs, and the burning pain from the tight ropes around your wrists told a different story.

You were trapped.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew the team would come. Hotch, Morgan, JJ, Emily—they would tear this city apart to find you both. But when? And would it be too late?

Your lips trembled. “I’m really scared,” you whispered, barely loud enough for Spencer to hear. A single tear slipped down your cheek.

Spencer’s fingers twitched again, as if his body ached to reach for you, to wipe that tear away. But he was just as helpless as you.

Instead, he locked eyes with you.“Just focus on me,” he said softly. “We’re going to get out of this.”

You wanted to believe him. You needed to believe him.

Then, the sound of approaching footsteps shattered the fragile moment.

You stiffened, your body instinctively recoiling as heavy boots scraped against the concrete floor. Spencer’s muscles tensed beside you.

Then, the unsub stepped into the dim light, looming over you like a shadow of something inhuman.

"Look at that," the man sneered, his voice dripping with amusement as he stared down at you. "You’re scared, aren’t you?"

Your blood ran cold but you didn't reply.

The unsub didn’t even look at Spencer. His focus was entirely on you.

The unsub’s smirk widened. "I don’t like it when people ignore me," he muttered, before his hand snapped forward, striking you hard across the face.

Pain exploded across your cheek, and your head snapped to the side. A sharp gasp left your lips as your vision blurred for a moment.

“Whatever you think you’re doing, it won’t work,” Spencer said slowly, trying to distract the unsub from you. “The team—”

The unsub’s laughter was sharp and cruel. “The team?” he mocked, stepping closer to you. “They’re too late.”

Spencer’s entire body went rigid. “Stop,” he snapped, his voice desperate now. “Hurt me instead. Leave her alone.”

The unsub barely spared him a glance. “Oh, I will,” he promised darkly. “But first, I want to see what she can endure.”

Spencer struggled against the ropes, his wrists raw from the effort. “Please,” he begged, something breaking in his voice. “Don’t hurt her.”

Spencer’s heart pounded as he watched you try to keep yourself upright, your head swimming from the impact. He knew you were strong—he’d seen you fight through so many impossible situations before—but this? This was different.

And then, before either of you could react, the unsub raised his arm and slammed the butt of his gun against the side of your head.

The world spun. A dull ringing filled your ears. The last thing you registered before everything faded into black was Spencer yelling your name.

And then—nothing.

The first thing you registered was the rhythmic beeping of a monitor. The bright overhead lights were blinding as you forced your eyes open, and for a moment, everything was a blur—white walls, sterile air, the scent of antiseptic.

You groaned softly, your body aching in ways you hadn’t even realized were possible.

“Hey, you’re awake,” a familiar voice said beside you.

Blinking against the light, your vision slowly adjusted, and you turned your head to see Emily sitting next to your hospital bed. She was smiling, but the concern was evident in her eyes.

“Spencer,” you rasped, your throat dry. “Is Spencer okay?”

It was the only thing on your mind. The last thing you remembered was the panic in his voice, the way he had yelled your name before everything went dark.

Emily’s expression softened. “Yeah, he’s okay,” she reassured you. “Just a couple of scratches. He’s been worried sick about you, though.”

Relief flooded through you so quickly that you almost felt dizzy. You exhaled shakily, your body sinking deeper into the hospital bed.

“Did you catch him?” you asked, attempting to sit up, only to wince as pain shot through your skull.

Emily reached out instinctively, her hand hovering near your arm as if ready to steady you. “Easy,” she murmured before nodding. “Yeah, we got him. Hotch and Morgan took him down not long after we found you.”

You let out another breath. It was over.

"Good," you mumbled, your voice still weak. You glanced at Emily, gratitude shining in your eyes. "Thank you."

Emily’s expression softened, and she gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. "I’m just glad you’re okay," she murmured.

You managed a small, appreciative smile.

"I’ll go tell Spencer you’re awake," she added, withdrawing her hand and standing up. She lingered for a moment as if making sure you’d be okay on your own before finally heading toward the door.

As soon as she left, you let your head sink back into the pillow, exhaling loudly. The relief of knowing the team had caught the unsub was overwhelming, but the haunting images of what had happened still lingered in the back of your mind.

Your body ached, your head pounded, but above all else, the only thing that truly mattered was that Spencer was okay.

The door creaked open, slow and hesitant. You looked up just as Spencer stepped inside.

His wide, anxious eyes found yours immediately, scanning every inch of your face as if making sure you were really there.

That’s when you noticed the light bruise forming on his cheek.

“Spence,” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitated in the doorway, as if unsure whether he was allowed to be there.

“They wouldn’t let me stay,” he said, almost apologetically. “They wanted to monitor me, just to be safe.”

You could hear the frustration in his voice, like the idea of being kept away from you was unbearable.

A small, relieved smile ghosted over your lips. “I’m just so glad you’re okay.”

Spencer finally moved closer. You ignored the dull, shooting pain in your head as you pushed yourself up to sit properly.

Spencer’s brows furrowed. "You shouldn't be sitting up yet," he scolded gently, but the words were nearly drowned out by the sheer relief in his voice.

He was standing right next to your bed now, his fingers twitching at his sides like he wanted to reach for you but wasn’t sure if he should.

But you didn’t hesitate.

With all the strength you could muster, you reached for his hand, gripping it tightly.

And Spencer let out a breath—one that sounded like he’d been holding it ever since he saw you unconscious.

"I'm okay," you reassured him softly.

Spencer’s fingers tightened around yours, his grip warm. His eyes flickered over your face, still searching for any signs of pain.

"You scared me," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. His thumb absentmindedly brushed over your knuckles.

You swallowed, guilt mixing with the relief in your chest. "I scared myself," you mumbled with a small, breathy laugh.

Spencer exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "We shouldn’t have been there in the first place. If I had—"

"Spence," you interrupted softly, giving his hand a squeeze. His gaze snapped back to yours. "We’re here. We’re safe."

His lips pressed together, like he wanted to argue, but instead, he just nodded.

For a moment, the hospital room was quiet, the distant beeping of machines the only sound between you. But Spencer still hadn’t let go of your hand.

You shifted slightly, ignoring the way your body protested, and tugged at his arm. "Sit with me?"

He hesitated, but when you pulled again, he finally caved. He carefully sat on the edge of the bed, still holding your hand, but this time, he used his free one to brush a strand of hair from your face, his fingers feather-light.

"You have a bruise," you murmured, reaching up to ghost your fingertips over the one on his cheek.

Spencer barely reacted to the touch, but his eyes softened. "So do you," he pointed out.

"Guess we match, then," you said with a tired smile.

Carefully, hesitantly, he leaned in, pressing the softest, most fleeting kiss to your forehead.

Your eyes fluttered shut at the warmth of it, the way his breath lingered against your skin for a second longer than necessary.

Spencer leaned back , exhaling as he whispered, “I’m really glad you’re okay.”

[angellic4l]

nine lives - d.m

in which; derek gets injured in the field and fem!reader isn’t happy with him.

content; tw! derek has bruises from bullets, kinda graphic desc(?), nicknames (doll, sugar, ma'am, etc,), cocky!derek x annoyed!reader, inaccuracies i’m sure but who cares, derek's abs, jj cockblocks(?) i suppose.

a/n; @darkmatilda requested this everybody say thank you matilda! i’ve been slacking w posting but my wips hate me apparently. kisses! wc: 1.9k

A sickly feeling still resided in your stomach. Your head was throbbing with the constant bombardment of ‘what if?’ and a million ways the situation could’ve been avoided. This and the three distinct crashes of go bags hitting oak desks, similar to that of three gunshots - at least in your addled brain - were enough to tell you that the irritation that’s been brewing was definitely still residing.

He’d been hurt in the field.

The thought almost made you gag, the anger overpowering, consuming every part of your body until you did something about it. It felt like it was begging you to purge it, cleanse it from your body, and god did you want to. However, the more logical part of you knew that throwing up wouldn’t make the frustration go away, wouldn’t stop the onslaught of worst case scenarios in your mind’s eye. The only thing it would serve for is making you feel even worse.

Opening one of the wooden desk drawers, you take out a water bottle and guzzle almost half of it down. In the midst of all of the stress and chaos, water was the least of your priorities. From across the room, a pair of eyes can be felt tracking you, watching each and every move you make. Against your better judgement, your head snapped up to see who it was.A futile action; you had already known that it was Derek staring at you but, since the incident, you’d made it a point to avoid him. Unfortunately for you, instincts had taken over a few moments ago and now the awkward jet ride had been in vain.

Realistically, you were aware that being mad at somebody for getting shot at wasn’t particularly logical, but you couldn’t help it, and so you’d kept your distance from Morgan. In place of your usual banter on the jet was an unusual silence, your ears were void of the usual 90’s hip-hop/R&B that came with him sharing his headphones with you, and he wasn’t warming your side with his usual presence because you’d sat away from him.

Familiar voices snap you both out of the staring contest that had started to ensue, your mind quickly recognising them as Reid and Penelope’s.

“He what?” Penelope gasped, manicured hands slapping over her mouth instantaneously.

In response, Spencer’s face had fallen flat, lips pressing into a thin line, signalling he’d probably just let something slip that wasn’t already common knowledge. Clearly, he’d just accidentally informed Penelope about Derek’s incident out in the field.

“Reid,” Morgan chided, before turning his attention to the blonde who stood in front of him now, “Baby girl, I’m okay. See? Still alive and breathin’.”

“But you… And the… Oh God,” Penelope stopped and started, trailing off before starting another thought. Whether it was because she was overwhelmed by the news or didn’t want to say the words out loud, you weren’t too sure.

Watching the whole ordeal from your desk only intensified the completely unreasonable anger you felt, tongue poking the inside of your cheek. Derek’s soothing murmurs to Penelope faded into the background as the different outcomes of today played in your head.

Derek had been shot at, standard for a field agent of course, but the bullets had hit him. If it wasn’t for his vest, he would be in the hospital right now. All because he’d taken a chance and trusted a deranged psychopath to put down his weapon at the hands of the FBI. God, the overwhelming urge to smack some sense into Derek Morgan only grew as you thought about the situation, how he hadn’t waited for back up, how he’d lowered his weapon without so much as an ounce of hesitation.

The opinions you harboured on the matter weren’t fair; you weren’t there, you don’t know what had actually happened, however any and all logic was proving to be out of depth in the cauldron of agitation that had been brewing since you’d been told what had happened. You knew that it wasn’t fair to blame him. You also knew that this response definitely came from fear rather than actually being mad at him, but acknowledging that meant opening up the door for something else entirely. Some things were better left untouched, in your opinion.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Based on the terribly sluggish nature of everybody’s movements and the slow ticking of the clock looming over the room, it was obvious that nobody wanted to be at work. In full fairness, it wasn’t usual to stay at the bureau after returning from a case, but the case had wrapped up quicker than expected. Hotch had announced on the jet that Strauss had ‘asked’ if it were a possibility. You figured it was to make up for the hotel rooms they’d prepaid for, what with the new budget cuts.

After what felt like the umpteenth time you’d caught yourself staring at Derek and watching him wince in pain, you chewed the inside of your cheek while standing up and making your way over to his desk. The bullpen was free from the team; Hotch and Rossi were in their offices, as was JJ, Reid was off in Penelope’s ‘lair’, and Prentiss was in the kitchenette making coffee. By the time you’d reached Derek’s desk, you were sure you’d be missing half of your cheek with the vice-like grip your premolars had on it.

Once you were fairly certain that opening your mouth wouldn’t be followed by an onslaught of swear words or beratement, you spoke to Morgan for the first time in hours.

“Come with me.”

“You tryin’ to kidnap me, doll? If you want me that bad, you can just say so,” he teases, attempting a soft snicker at his own joke before wincing in pain slightly.

“No. Just stop being cocky and listen for once, Derek.”

For a few moments, he leaves you standing in front of his desk, waiting for a response, and feeling like an absolute idiot. Finally, he gives you a look - accompanied by a small shrug of one shoulder - that simply reads as ‘touche’ and then he’s rising from his seat. Schooling your expression to keep it impassive as you turn to lead the way, silently relieved that he’s actually cooperating with you, you remain silent as you keep walking with Derek behind you.

Just down the hall from the bullpen and the other offices the BAU consists of, there’s a small, beige, forgotten infirmary room that nobody ever uses for its original intention. That changes today, you suppose. As Derek shuts the door behind himself, he opens his mouth after taking in the secluded room and the examination table that could double as a bed, but you beat him to it.

“Sit down, Morgan.”

“Sugar, you are desperate for it, huh?”

“Sit. Down.”

He raises his hands in mock surrender, “Yes ma’am,” before sitting on the bed of green plastic covered with a thin sheet of paper.

With Derek finally sat down, you open one of the dusty cupboards and pull out one of the 15 (you counted them once) first aid kits in there before turning back to face Morgan and placing it to the left of him. Unclipping the green, plastic case and opening it up causes one of Morgan’s eyebrows to raise.

“What’s that for, sugar?”

“You. I know you’re in pain and not saying anything.”

Your tone is firm, facial expression showing nothing but exasperation with him so, he relents with a sigh before grabbing the hem of his grey t-shirt and pulling it up so that you can tend to his wounds. At the sight of his bare skin, abs exposed to you and all, your heart rate picks up and the room feels like it’s getting warmer by the minute.

“Stupid decision, by the way,” you add in a murmur, praying to whatever is out there that he can’t tell how much his chiseled torso is affecting you.

“Mama, I’m just fine. Really,” he insists, but you’re already digging through the first aid box.

Remembering what he’d been told to do by paramedics, to keep the bruises cool and wrapped, you reach for one of the ice packs in the first aid kit. Before activating it, your hand hesitantly moves towards the wrapped section of his midriff to expose the bruised skin beneath it.

Morgan hisses slightly when your finger brushes a bruise rather than the white cloth, the sound causing you to retract your hand as if he had hurt you and not the other way around. You mumble a small sorry and return your attention to the ice pack next to him, picking it up and activating it with a cracking noise.

“This gonna hurt?”

“Not as much as getting shot at.”

“What was that for?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

By now, you’re pressing the ice pack lightly to the area of injury, barely any space between the two of you as he sits on the examining table with you standing in between his legs. Your gaze finally meets his - probably a good thing, you conclude, because staring at his abs any longer might’ve made you melt - eye contact unwavering.

“Don’t play that game with me. Since I got shot, you’ve been acting differently. Avoiding me, sitting away from me on the jet, hardly even making eye contact with me, this weird hostile attitude. Why?”

“Because, Derek, you got shot at and it was stupid. You should’ve been more careful.”

“Sugar, I know you don’t believe it was my fault I got shot,” his tone softens, “What’s really going on up there, hm?”

His finger lightly taps on your forehead, again reminding you of just how close the two of you are to each other, because you didn’t even see his arm move to do it. Both of you are yet to disturb the intense eye contact happening, eyes boring into each other’s - his searching for answers in yours, yours seeking relief in his.

“I shouldn’t have been mad at you for getting shot at. I’m sorry.”

“I just wanna know why, doll.”

“You scared me. A lot,” you admit in a whisper, fighting the urge to bow your head and nuzzle into the top of his chest.

Instead, you keep your head level as the both of you stare at each other, your hand still pressing the ice pack to his lower midriff during the interaction. Visibly, his face softens with your admission, and then his lips curve into a barely there smirk.

“Yeah? You care about me, sweetheart? Awh,” he teases.

“Seriously. You don’t have nine lives, D, you can’t risk losing this one.”

“Yes, ma’am. I am so sorry for forgetting that I’m not a cat.”

“God, you can’t ever be serious, can you?”

“Hard to be serious when there’s a pretty woman tending to my wounds, angel.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you mutter and let your eyes drop to his abs between you, momentarily distracted.

“See something you like?”

As you go to reply, lips slightly parted - though the words that should’ve come out hadn’t even fully formed in your head yet - the door swings open to reveal one Jennifer Jareau. Morgan turns his head slowly to look at her while you whip your head to the right so fast it could’ve given you whiplash.

JJ’s face contorts with confusion, you presume it’s because she only expected to find you in here - and certainly not extremely close to Morgan with your hand resting on his midriff.

“I’m so sorry. I’m not interrupting something, am I?”

“No, Jayje, you’re okay,” you reassure her.

“Hotch needs everyone in the briefing room.”

“We just got back,” Morgan grumbles.

“He said it was urgent. I’ll uh, let you two… finish up,” the blond says quietly, giving the two of you an awkward smile, and then closing the door behind her.

[nomsfaultau]

It was like trying to hold water in cupped hands. Sanity trickling out no matter how tight Tommy pressed his fingers together. Another drop splattering on the bathroom floor. Another second closer to when he finally murdered Tubbo.

Tommy couldn’t trust that his longing to turn Tubbo instead was anything other than vamperic hunger tempting him. Those words Tubbo said pounding in his head over, over, he knows I wouldn’t leave him. He was scared to ask what Tubbo meant by that, if he even understood what the horror of eternity really entailed.

Tommy knew it wasn’t fair, for him to make this choice for Tubbo. But he couldn’t bear to know Tubbo’s answer. Philza had been right about how cruelly selfish a vampire’s love was.

But he wouldn’t be Tubbo, just like Tommy wasn’t Tommy anymore. He was killing his friend either way.

Though a last desperate instinct was screaming at him to run in the handful of moments before dawn and his sanity broke, Tommy couldn’t. What would they do to Tubbo? Close enough to protect his friend was too close to be safe. Surely whatever torture they inflicted would be crueler. 

He could tell the moment Tubbo woke by the hitch of his breath. By the creak of the bed he could picture the arc of Tubbo’s body as he stretched, tongue curling with a yawn. The scruffy mess of fluffy hair covering bleary eyes. The flutter of his tantalizing heartbeat. The scurry of nearby prey made his mind skitter out of grasp, and Tommy covered his ears miserably.

But this might be the last time they had together, or had at all. He wanted his friend so, so badly, never mind what that want entailed. All that came out was a low whine at first, and Tommy couched to clear his parched throat. “Big T?” he made out.

“Bossman!” It hurt how excited he sounded. At once Tubbo raced to the door. It refused to budge, stuck behind the rubble of the broken tub, and toilet, and sink, and drawer, and cabinets, and ripped up floor tiles, and every last shred of protection that Tommy could scrounge up. A useless bastion, constructed as it was by Tubbo’s bitter enemy.

“I don’t have much longer, Tubbo.”

“Oh.” A shift, as he unconsciously stepped back. Trepidation laced his voice, soft like he was scared of hurting Tommy. “Can- can you hold out just a little longer?”

Tommy choked on a sudden sob. It was the first time Tubbo had begged for his life, but it wouldn’t be the last. Level now, not scared, yet, eventually screamed when it was too late for Tommy to understand it. But he heard it now, while it could still hurt.

“It’s okay!” Tubbo rushed out. “I don’t need much more time. Just- how long do I have?”

“I’m so sorry Tubbo.”

“Don’t be, just tell me.” It was abrupt, almost a snap. Because of course this was so, so much worse for Tubbo. Tommy shrunk in shame.

“Maybe a day. Two. Didn’t mean to scare you there. Just meant…I won’t be to do this anymore. Like: talking, thinking. Pretending to be a person. The blood I took from Phil wasn’t enough.” He’d licked every last drop off the bathroom floor.

“You bit him?” What kind of monster would do that? Reluctantly, Tommy confirmed. But Tubbo only laughed lightly. “Nice. Reckon it hurt?”

“Um. Probably, I bit the finger clean off.”

“Permanently?”

“Nah. It’ll regen.” Unless it got in sunlight. Not that Philza was stupid enough to.

Their conversation was nice enough, though lulled frequently, both of them distracted. But Tubbo forced the topic to be light, upbeat, and Tommy wouldn’t ruin it for the world. They ignored what was to come. They had to. And so the friends talked about movies they wanted to see, and old childhood memories, and pretended to make weekend plans for a future that didn’t exist. He could hear Tubbo pace, full of energetic life despite it all. The rustling of something or other. It did something funny to his back brain, like dangling something in front of a cat. The conversation listed to the side as it became harder to concentrated 

He slipped deeper into the familiar haze. His last wound was too long ago, but he was running out of fresh areas. And maybe Philza was right, that his desperate attempt to postpone Tubbo’s death had really only hastened it. Without blood the healing was slow. But he had time. Plummeting fast, so so much quicker than last time as the brief high petered out. Tubbo’s conversation came in random bursts, and he couldn’t tell if it was because he had nothing to say or if Tommy was losing his grasp that quick. 

The scent of fresh blood burst into his nostrils, and in a blink he was at the door, inhuman strength blurring limbs as he ripped away the mounds of ruins barring the door.

Tommy caught himself on the threshold. Claws sunk in deep as if that could hold himself back. Too eager. Alarm bells ringing. Tubbo, stop, protect-

“You can drain animals, right? Cause I’ll feel stupid having gone through all this effort if not.”

The days of holding himself back nearly crumbled as Tubbo opened the door. It only grew worse as the human immediately drained seeing him, horror captured in round eyes. The feeding hiss poured out of Tommy’s throat automatically. And a blur as he lost control, and teeth sinking into flesh, and sweet fresh blood.

What was he eating? The question was small in his head, drowning. So unimportant. He was finally fed. But persistent in a way that was annoying.

What was he eating? Who was he eating?

Tubbo. Tubbo what if it’s Tubbo stop you can’t Tubbo no Tubbo- but he couldn’t pry his jaws open even as he began to panic, the world was a blur of blood. How much had he drunk? Was it already too late?

“Philza did that to you?”

It wrenched Tommy’s focus out of the blood thirst fueled spiral. Meat squelched in his hands as he unclenched his pulverizing grasp, staring vacantly at the dead rat turned to bloody pulp. Yes. Philza did this to him. Turned him into something so desperate it would eat a dead rat.

Unsure of how he got here, Tommy slowly looked up to Tubbo as the human gently knelt before him. As Tubbo reached for him, for an irrational moment Tommy thought he meant to steal the rat before he was done, and clutched it protectively to his chest. But Tubbo carefully ghosted over the deep gouges and bitemarks in Tommy’s arms. “He- in the bathroom, he was snarling so much and I couldn’t protect you since you wouldn’t open the door! And look at you! you’re half dead!”

He stared at Tubbo in utter bewilderment. “I am dead.” After months of broken bones and pulverized flesh from escapes casually dismissed by his coven, Tommy couldn’t understand why Tubbo was so upset, using ripped sheet strips at once to wrap up injuries already beginning to recover with the recent feeding. The Jawless One alone was proof enough a vampire could survive no matter how mangled. How quickly he’d unlearned sixteen years of human education upon the subjects of pain and lethality. Philza, Technoblade, and the Jawless One were swift teachers.

“It’s fine really,” he assured, uncomfortable with Tubbo’s empathy. “It’ll heal with more blood.”

Tubbo thrust his wrist forward. “Here. Dessert? You can control it now that you’ve had the rat right? So it’s fine.” Tommy shook his head adamantly. Huffing, Tubbo rolled his eyes. “You judge dying children for needing transfusions do you? Innit literally just a blood donation?”

“No.”

“Why? You homophobic, too? Cause that’s the only other reason someone’s refused to let me donate.”

“I’m not homophobic!” Tommy laughed. A mistake, since Tubbo shoved his wrist into Tommy’s open mouth. He froze on soft skin, then spat it out. “Ew! You’re gross from not bathing for so long. Nooo thanks. Plus I think it makes me more homophobic if I do eat a gay person.”

“Why? Scared to suck another man?” He laughed as Tommy shoved him back. “Come onnnnn just a small amount? Not too much, since I haven’t eaten either and might pass out.” Tommy stared at the corpse, then glanced to Tubbo as he wiped the blood dripping off his chin and licked his stained hands. Uh. Tommy grabbed the rat by the tail and shoved it in Tubbo’s direction. Tubbo pulled a face. “No thanks big T. We don’t have a way to cook it. I don’t need to be dealing with diarrhea while we- are trapped in here. Anyway. Uh. Quick question I’ve only just now thought of this very second: how good is vampire hearing?”

“It’s- pretty good. Why?” Tubbo’s head jerked to the door. “Wait you think they’ve been listening to us the whole time??”

Tubbo gave him a ‘seriously dude!?’ expression then announced, “what? Why would they? Especially after we were saying nothing for days. Surely it’d be boring.” He rolled his eyes while tapping a finger to his pursed lips. But…if Tubbo had been measuring his words the whole time, why risk letting Tommy know his line of thought now? Well, besides the fact he finally felt sentient again. Amazed, he asked Tubbo how he managed to kill the rat. “Well, human hearing is just good enough I could barely hear them at night. So that’s why I wondered if it was driving you nuts, too,” he covered. “I had some crumbs in my pocket. Not enough for me, but Mickey over there couldn’t help himself. Didn’t know what was coming when my trap kicked in!”

“What trap?”

“…waiting until it was close enough and braining it with a giant book.”

“You’re a genius,” he said, and meant it.

Tubbo grinned. “Definitely! Here, now that you’re normal again you can help me make a trap. You’ll have as many rats as you want, bossman.” Only, he winked. And then winked again as Tommy stared at him blankly. Then nudged Tommy with his elbow. Then sighed in defeat, and dragged Tommy to the bathroom, pointing repeatedly at the window. 

Tommy shook his head furiously. Tubbo nodded just as furiously. Tommy shook his head even harder, blurring at inhuman speeds. Scowling, Tubbo stalked back out, seizing something and dragging it in. At once Tommy’s eyes were transfixed by the stake in his fist. It took a second to rip his gaze away to the long coils of tied together cloth strips. Tubbo lifted the heavy tangle of objects tied to the end for weight, swinging slightly. Pain stakingly -uh, not literally- he pantomimed actions until Tommy cottoned on. A zipline? Well he supposed it made sense, Tubbo couldn’t exactly fly. Philza had surely counted on Tubbo being slow, weak, a liability that would ensure their quick recapture. 

The vampires had underestimated Tubbo. So had Tommy. He eyed the stake casually shoved in one of Tubbo’s pockets. 

“You weren’t making the- just in case I…?”

Tubbo blinked at him. “That…wasn’t what I designed it for, no.” But by the hesitation, it became so. Tubbo tried to apologize through eyes alone for granting the only hope that had kept Tommy going. 

“Good. Good. The fact you had it made me feel better.”

Tubbo’s expression was horrible. “Welp. Is what it is.” 

With Tommy’s help, he broke the window out of the frame to maximize the size. Tubbo tingled the escape efforts, already there silently pantomiming the next step as if having run through it mentally hundreds of times. He grinned wildly, sticking his head out the window to survey the shadowed plummet below. Past the most to the dark forest and beyond, the horizon stretching out. 

And then he hesitated for the first time, turning back. “Can you?” Tubbo asked, haloed in sunlight. Just the verge of dawn, before the full brunt of day would bear down. The confidence that he glowed with flickered, uncertainty growing. All the questions he couldn’t have asked, scared of being overheard and his plan revealed. Because, truly, it was a plan only a human could make.

And, well. Tubbo wouldn’t leave without him.

Tommy grinned. “Naw, it’s a myth. Just irritating.” The way Tubbo beamed at him, full of hope, had to be more than worth the lie. 

I had a dream about vampire dark sbi, where Tommy was turned into a fledgling against his will and was desperate to escape. His coven had other ideas however, and so Tommy was constantly getting hunted down by Philza, Techno, and the Jawless One.

oh. Were you you expecting Wilbur? No that dude is problematic, and my dream presented the ideal solution: replacing him with a monster made of long mangled limbs and a ripped off jaw that dangles on a thread of viscera. So I’m just sayin, here’s how 4/4 can still work-

[f3armagneto]

Behind Closed Minds

NSFT Charles Xavier x Erik Lehnsherr Fic / Universe isn't specified (I think it applies to the comic, show and movie portrayals) I haven't written a fic in probably 10 years so it might not be the best..

Inspired by my own anon ask (spoilers wow that was me what a freak) that @xxplastic-cubexx expanded on and made a comic from which I linked below! (Please check them out they are my most favorite X-men blog of all time)

WARNINGS: NSFT, mature themes, accidental voyeurism, telepathic intimacy, Erik being Erik.

Word Count: 4914

-‐------------------------------------------

Charles wasn’t searching for Erik. He wasn’t.

The day had been long, and exhaustion always made his telepathy harder to control.

Normally, he could block out the world with practiced ease, but tonight, his mind wandered—slipping between thoughts, skimming across consciousness like a stone across water.

It was a passive thing, harmless, barely more than instinct. A part of him simply sought something familiar, and it found—

Erik.

Charles hadn’t meant to focus on him, hadn’t even realized he was doing it until the image struck him with the force of a freight train.

Water. Steam curling along tiled walls. The steady rhythm of droplets cascading over bare skin.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Erik was showering. And Charles was—seeing him. Not through his own eyes, not intentionally, but through the impression of Erik’s own mind, open and unguarded without the helmet to block him out. It wasn’t even words or full thoughts, just an absent awareness of heat and pressure, the feeling of water running over tense muscles, and—

Charles' breath hitched.

He should sever the link. He should. But his mind, unbidden, caught on tiny details—the slow drag of Erik’s fingers through his wet hair, the way his shoulders rolled beneath the spray, the low exhale of relief as the warmth soaked into his skin.

It was only a few seconds. A handful of seconds.

But it was enough to make Charles' entire body go rigid, blood rushing straight to his face.

Good lord.

This was a mistake. A terrible, humiliating mistake. He could not—could not—accidentally spy on his enemy in the shower.

With a jolt, he tried to yank himself out of the connection—except, right at that moment, Erik moved.

A slow shift. A tilt of the head. A flicker of awareness.

Charles froze.

Erik wasn’t looking toward him, of course. He wasn’t looking anywhere—But for one horrifying second, Charles’ mind screamed that Erik had noticed.

He clamped down on his thoughts, forcing himself into absolute silence. No ripples. No movement. No sign that he had ever been here at all.

Seconds stretched unbearably long as Erik reached for the soap. Casual. Unbothered. As though he hadn’t sensed anything at all.

Charles let out a shaky breath, pulse hammering in his throat.

He hadn’t noticed.

Of course he hadn’t noticed.

Charles was being ridiculous.

His mind was exhausted, frayed at the edges. This was nothing—just an accident, a stray flicker of telepathy slipping where it wasn’t supposed to go. It was over. Done.

He would never let it happen again.

Forcing his connection shut, Charles leaned back in his chair, running both hands down his face as if he could physically wipe the mortification away.

Never again.

Absolutely never again.

And yet, beneath the thundering embarrassment, something darker lurked.

Because even now, even after everything, he could feel his pants getting tighter and his desire getting more demanding every second.

And that was perhaps the most dangerous thing of all. Charles tried to banish the images from his mind, but they lingered stubbornly, burning into his every thought. His breath came quicker as he recalled the droplets of water trailing down

Erik's sculpted back, the flex of his muscles as he moved.

Without conscious thought, Charles' hand drifted lower, palm pressing against the growing bulge in his pants. He bit his lip, fighting the urge, but his resolve crumbled rapidly. With trembling fingers, he unfastened his belt and zipper, slipping a hand inside.

A soft gasp escaped him at the first touch. He stroked himself slowly, imagining Erik's strong hands in place of his own. In his mind's eye, he saw Erik's piercing gaze, droplets clinging to his eyelashes. Charles' breath hitched as he stroked faster, lost in the fantasy. He imagined

Erik's calloused hands on his skin, leaving trails of heat in their wake. In his mind, Erik's steel blue eyes bore into him with an intensity that made Charles shiver.

Charles arched his back, waves of pleasure coursing through him. He imagined Erik's lips on his neck, hot breath sending shivers down his spine. His hand moved faster, grip tightening as the pressure built. In his mind, Erik whispered his name in that rich, commanding voice. "Charles," and it was his undoing.

With a strangled cry, Charles came undone. His body tensed, trembling as his release washed over him in pulsing waves. For a blissful moment, he was lost in ecstasy, Erik's name on his lips.

As the high faded, reality came crashing back. Charles' eyes flew open, his ragged breathing loud in the empty room. Shame and guilt flooded him as he stared at the ceiling. What had he done?

Charles slumped in his chair, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. The afterglow of pleasure quickly faded, replaced by a crushing wave of shame and self-loathing.

What had he done? How could he have let himself lose control like that?

He fumbled for tissues, cleaning himself up with shaking hands. His face burned with embarrassment as he tucked himself away and refastened his pants. The evidence was gone, but the memory remained, seared into his mind.

"Never again," Charles whispered fiercely, squeezing his eyes shut. "This can never happen again."

But even as he made the vow, doubt gnawed at him. What if Erik had noticed something?

What if, in that moment of weakness, Charles had projected his desires? One thing’s for certain, Charles really hoped he would not have a run in with Erik anytime soon.

……………………………………………………………………

Erik knew.

From the moment Charles’ presence brushed against his mind, he knew. The faint, unnoticed ripple of telepathy, the way Charles’ thoughts had shifted ever so slightly, like a gust of wind in a still room.

Erik didn’t mind—at least, not at first.

The initial realization had been a quiet amusement, an understanding that Charles was, without a doubt, aware of what he was doing. The image of Charles—sitting somewhere, no doubt, utterly flustered—had been enough to make Erik smirk as he finished his shower.

Charles had enjoyed it, hadn't he?

The more Erik thought about it, the more the idea appealed to him. Charles, with all his righteous composure, caught in the most personal of moments. Erik could sense him, feel the almost frantic need to escape his own thoughts but unable to disconnect

Erik knew the man far too well. He could predict the patterns of his mind, the way Charles’ thoughts inevitably circled back when something caught his attention. And Charles? He was nothing if not particular. If Erik was right, Charles would return tomorrow, at the same time, at the same hour, unable to resist the draw of his own curiosity.

Erik could almost hear Charles’ frantic internal debate—his inner voice whispering, You shouldn’t go back. Don’t do it. But inevitably, Charles wouldn’t be able to help himself. And so, Erik decided to have a little fun with it.

The next day, he placed a large mirror on the wall in front of his bed. He didn’t need to explain why he had one there, nor did he care. The mirror would serve its purpose.

……………………………………………………………………

Charles couldn’t shake the image from his mind.

It had been one moment, just one fleeting experience, but it lingered—like an itch he couldn’t reach, a puzzle piece that wouldn’t fit back in its place. It wasn’t supposed to affect him like this, was it?

He tried to focus during the morning lectures, but his mind would drift back to that image, to that quiet knowing. Erik didn’t really know, though, did he? He couldn’t. Not for sure. He’d been careful, hadn’t he? He’d only brushed against the edges of Erik’s mind, just a faint sense of the man’s presence—enough to know where Erik was, to confirm his location. But the feeling of Erik’s awareness… had that been real? Or had it been his imagination?

Charles gripped the arms of his wheelchair, as though the action could somehow ground him, but his mind still strayed. The idea of Erik—vulnerable, unaware—had caught in his mind like a hook. And, if he were being honest with himself, it fascinated him.

Stop it, Charles.

He knew it was wrong. He knew. He was the one who prided himself on restraint, who had always held to the higher moral ground. But this—this one moment, this one lapse in judgment—it was tempting. He was only a mutant, after all. And Erik had always been the enigma. So guarded, so distant. The few times Charles had pushed through to sense Erik’s thoughts, it was always like walking up against a brick wall. Erik never let anyone in. Not fully.

Charles shook his head. No. He couldn’t do this. He shouldn’t. But still, the temptation gnawed at him.

He had always believed that restraint was the answer, that the mind—his gift—should be used for the greater good, for understanding, for solving problems, not indulging in… whatever this was.

He was rationalizing it. He was rationalizing something he knew was wrong, and the longer he let it linger, the harder it became to let go.

Erik probably can't even be reached anyway, Charles tried to tell himself. His mind is so closed off. It’s practically a fortress. I’d never be able to get through to him. It’s practically impossible.

“Don’t do this,” he whispered to himself as he wheeled quickly through the halls, back toward his office. He could feel the heat of his cheeks, the tightness in his chest, but there was no denying the pull that drew him to the idea.

What if Erik’s planning something? the thought slid in, giving him the justification he needed. Maybe he’s plotting something I don’t know about. Maybe he’s hiding something.

But even as he thought it, he knew it wasn’t true.

But the more he tried to push it away, the stronger the urge became. His wheels turned faster as he pushed himself toward his office door. Just once more, he thought. Just one more time and then I’ll leave him alone.

With a quiet exhale, he locked the door behind him when he finally arrived, starting to feel that familiar flush creeping up his neck. As he sat at his desk, the images of Erik, half-remembered from the day before, refused to leave his mind. The strength of his presence. The way his body had moved, the glistening droplets on his skin. It was wrong to be this fixated on it, wasn’t it?

Still, he couldn’t stop himself. With a deep breath, he turned his chair to face the window, trying to focus on anything other than the memory. Just get to work, he thought. But his mind was already slipping away again.

It didn’t take long. He found him quickly. Too easily, he realized with a start. His breath caught as he focused, pushing against the impulse to look deeper. But he was already there, In Erik’s mind, as if he had always belonged.

And there, across the hazy vision of his own mental landscape, Charles saw it—Erik, clearly visible through his own mental reflection. There he was, lying in his bed, shirtless, in front of a large mirror.

He knew, Charles realized.

Erik was looking right at himself, his expression calm, yet something about it felt...deliberate. And then, the realization hit Charles like a punch to the gut: Erik wasn’t just looking at himself; he was aware. Aware that someone was watching.

Someone like Charles.

The thought made Charles freeze, his stomach twisting painfully, his heart racing. Erik hadn’t said anything, hadn’t reacted outwardly—but Charles knew. Erik knew exactly who was looking.

Charles’ mind flashed, trying to justify the moment. No, he’s just in his own space, unaware… probably.

But there was something about the way Erik had positioned himself, the way he seemed too calm, too deliberate. Charles was caught, trapped between the guilt of intrusion and the unrelenting urge to stay, to see more, to know more.

Erik's eyes remained fixed in the mirror, just as composed as ever. But Charles felt a subtle shift in the air—a pulse of energy, thick and heavy, as though Erik’s awareness of the situation was a gentle challenge.

Charles’ breath caught in his throat as the distance between them seemed to shrink, his thoughts racing.

“You didn’t really think I couldn’t feel you, Charles?” Erik's voice was low, the words hanging in the air with an undeniable edge. He didn’t look away from the mirror, but his lips curled into a smirk, as if he were savoring the tension in the air. “Didn’t know you were such a pervert, though. Guess I’ve underestimated you.”

The sting of Erik’s words hit Charles harder than expected, his pulse quickening with a mixture of embarrassment and something more... He hadn’t meant for this to happen—hadn’t meant for Erik to know.

No, Charles thought frantically, this isn’t real. He can’t possibly know. He must be guessing…

But the more he tried to convince himself, the more his connection to Erik seemed to prove otherwise. Erik’s awareness was undeniable, and Charles could feel it—his every movement, his every shift of focus. It was as if Erik had been waiting for him to slip, waiting for him to make this very mistake.

“Tell me,” Erik continued, his voice smooth and mocking. “Do you like what you see, Charles? Is it everything you imagined?”

Charles’ mind reeled. This isn’t happening, he tried to convince himself, but the tension between them only seemed to grow. The mirror, the way Erik lay in front of it, the deliberate positioning—it was all too obvious now. Erik was playing with him, taunting him. Testing how far Charles would go.

Charles’ hand gripped the arms of his wheelchair, his knuckles white with the effort of holding himself together.

His cheeks burned, his thoughts a chaotic mess. He had never felt so exposed, so utterly caught in his own weakness.

“Do you think I wouldn’t know, Charles?” Erik’s words cut through the air again, more insistent this time. The sensation of Erik’s presence grew stronger, a subtle pressure, almost like a magnetic force pulling him in. The fear of being discovered clashed with the pulse of excitement that surged through him. He wanted to pull back, to cut off the connection, but something stopped him. Something about Erik’s challenge, his certainty, kept Charles rooted in place.

Erik was in control, there was no doubt about it. Charles was helpless, tethered to Erik by the invisible threads of their shared power.

“I guess,” Erik’s voice softened, almost thoughtfully, “the real question is—what are you going to do about it, Charles?”

Charles’ breath hitched, a knot forming in his chest. He wanted to answer, to say something, anything, but his mind was locked in turmoil. What do I do? He couldn’t—no, he shouldn’t—stay here, but a small, dangerous part of him wanted to.

Erik's eyes never left the mirror as his hands moved to the waistband of his pants. With deliberate slowness, he unfastened the button and lowered the zipper. Charles felt his breath catch, unable to look away as Erik lifted his hips and slid the fabric down his legs.

The room seemed to grow warmer, the air thick with tension. Erik's movements were fluid, almost hypnotic. He kicked the pants aside, leaving him clad only in tight black briefs that left little to the imagination.

Charles swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. He knew he should break the connection, and end this before it went any further. But he remained frozen, transfixed by the sight before him.

Erik's body was a work of art - all muscle and sharp angles. Scars marked his skin here and there, telling stories of a hard life. But there was a raw beauty to him. “Is this what you came for Charles?" He smirks.

Erik's fingers hooked under the waistband of his briefs. With agonizing slowness, he began to peel them down. Charles' breath caught as more and more skin was revealed.

When Erik's cock finally sprang free, Charles let out an involuntary gasp. It was magnificent - thick and long, already half-hard and growing. Erik wrapped his hand around the shaft, giving it a few slow strokes.

"Like what you see?" Erik raises an eyebrow looking into straight into the mirror.

Charles was frozen, unable to look away as Erik's hand moved up and down his impressive length.

With each stroke, Erik's cock swelled further until it stood proudly erect. Charles had never seen anything like it - it had to be at least nine inches, maybe more.

"Tell me you're here, Charles... no need to hide anymore. I know about your little non-consensual peeping—going against everything you've preached, aren't you, Charles?"

Charles felt as if he were drowning, pulled under by the tide of his own desires and Erik's magnetic presence. His resolve crumbled, shame and arousal warring within him. With a shaky exhale, he reached out with his mind.

"I'm here, Erik," Charles projected, his mental voice trembling. "God help me, I'm here."

A victorious grin spread across Erik's face, his eyes gleaming with triumph in the mirror.

"There you are," he purred. "I was beginning to think you'd lost your nerve."

Charles' cheeks burned hotter. "I... I shouldn't be doing this. It's wrong."

"And yet here you are," Erik countered, his hand still lazily stroking his impressive length.

"The great Charles Xavier, paragon of virtue, caught being a naughty little voyeur."

"Erik, please..."

Erik's smile grew wider, predatory. "Please what, Charles? Please stop? Or please... don't stop?" His hand continued its slow movements, thumb circling the sensitive head of his cock.

Charles felt dizzy, overwhelmed by the sight before him and the intensity of Erik's presence in his mind. He could almost feel the heat of Erik's skin, smell the musky scent of his arousal.

It was intoxicating.

"You're usually so composed, so in control," Erik mused, his free hand trailing down his chest, "Where's that famous restraint now, Charles?"

Charles couldn't answer. His own body was betraying him, He was achingly hard, trapped in his chair, unable to do anything but watch.

Erik's eyes locked with his own reflection, a wicked gleam in their steel-blue depths. His hand moved faster now, gripping his shaft more firmly as he stroked from base to tip. The muscles in his arm flexed with each movement, highlighting the sculpted definition of his body.

"Watch closely, Charles," Erik growled, his voice evident with arousal. "I want you to see every detail."

He angled his hips, giving Charles an unobstructed view in the mirror. His cock glistened with precum, the head flushed a deep red. Erik's thumb swiped over the slit, spreading the moisture before gliding back down the length.

Erik's eyes glinted mischievously in the mirror. "You know, Charles," he purred, his hand still moving slowly along his shaft, "I think it's only fair if you join in. After all, I know what you did last time."

Charles felt his face flush an even deeper shade of red, his heart pounding. "W-what? How could you possibly know that?" he stammered, his mental voice wavering.

A slow, satisfied smirk spread across Erik's face. "I didn't," he replied smoothly. "But you just confirmed it."

Charles' mind reeled, mortification washing over him in waves. He'd fallen right into Erik's trap, revealing his secret without Erik having to do a thing.

"I... I didn't..." Charles tried to protest, but the words died in his throat. He could feel Erik's arousal and amusement radiating through their mental connection

Erik's hand stilled on his cock, his eyes glinting with mischief in the mirror. "Well, Charles," he drawled, "if you won't join me, I suppose I'll just have to stop this little show right now." He began to withdraw his hand, moving with exaggerated slowness. Charles felt a surge of panic and disappointment.

"Wait!" Charles projected, his mental voice tinged with desperation. "Don't... don't stop."

Erik's lips curled into a triumphant smirk. "Oh? And why shouldn't I? Give me a reason, Charles."

Charles swallowed hard, his throat dry. He knew he was walking into another of Erik's traps, but he couldn't help himself. The sight of Erik's magnificent body, the tantalizing glimpse of pleasure he'd been given - it was too much to resist.

Charles took a deep, shuddering breath, his mind reeling. "I... I've never felt this way before, Erik," he confessed, his mental voice barely above a whisper. "I never even knew you might... that you could possibly share these feelings. This is all so new, so overwhelming. I can hardly believe it's real."

Erik's expression softened slightly, a flicker of genuine emotion passing through his eyes.

"Oh, Charles," he murmured, his hand resuming its slow, tantalizing strokes. "You've always been so perceptive, yet so blind to what's right in front of you."

Charles felt a rush of warmth that had nothing to do with physical arousal. His heart raced, pounding against his ribcage as if trying to escape. "But you've always been so guarded, so closed off," he protested weakly.

Erik's eyes softened, a hint of vulnerability showing through his usual mask of control. "Well, right now I'm not closed off, I’m completely open to you and you only," he said, "Please, Charles... pleasure yourself alongside me."

The request sent a shiver down Charles' spine. He hesitated for a moment, his conscience waging a losing battle against his desires. With trembling hands, he unfastened his pants, freeing his achingly hard cock.

As he wrapped his fingers around himself, he gasped at the intensity of the sensation.

Through their mental link, he could feel an echo of Erik's pleasure mingling with his own. It was intoxicating, overwhelming in its intimacy.

Erik's eyes never left the mirror as he resumed stroking himself, matching Charles' pace. "That's it," he murmured encouragingly.

Erik's eyes locked with Charles' through the mirror, his gaze burning with intensity. "That's it, Charles," he breathed, "Let yourself feel this."

Charles' hand moved in sync with Erik's, Erik's free hand roamed across his chest, fingers teasing a nipple to hardness. "God, Charles," he groaned, his back arching slightly. "You have no idea how long I've wanted this."

The admission sent a jolt through Charles. He could feel the truth of it resonating through their link - the years of longing, of stolen glances and suppressed desires. It was overwhelming.

Erik's strokes became faster, more urgent. His muscles tensed, abs flexing with each movement.

Charles matched Erik's pace, his hand gliding faster along his shaft. The sensations were incredible, amplified by their mental connection. He could feel every ridge and vein of Erik's cock as if it were his own, the dual stimulation almost too much to bear.

Erik's breath came in short, ragged gasps, his chest heaving with each inhale. Sweat glistened on his skin,

"Charles," Erik moaned, his voice thick with need. "God, this feels so good.

Erik's hips began to thrust up into his hand, his movements growing more erratic. Charles could feel the tension building, coiling tighter with each stroke. The sight was mesmerizing -

Erik's powerful body writhing with pleasure, muscles flexing and relaxing in a primal rhythm.

"Erik," Charles gasped, his mental voice thick with desire. "When you cum... look at the mirror. I want to see your face."

A low chuckle rumbled in Erik's chest. "My, my, Charles. Such a naughty request. Who would have thought the prim and proper professor had such voyeuristic tendencies?"

Despite the teasing words, Erik's eyes locked onto his own reflection, pupils blown wide with arousal. The intensity of his gaze had Charles intoxicated, unable to look away,

Erik's hand moved faster, his grip tightening as he neared his peak. His powerful thighs tensed, Sweat glistened on his brow, trailing down the sharp planes of his face.

"Charles," Erik moaned, his voice rough with need. "Oh God, Charles..."

The sound of his name on Erik's lips sent a yet another wave of arousal through Charles. He could feel Erik's pleasure building to a crescendo, the sensation echoing through their mental link.

Erik's back arched, his free hand gripping the sheets. His cock swelled in his grasp, with a final, powerful stroke, Erik cried out.

"Charles!" His eyes locked on the mirror as his orgasm hit. Thick ropes of cum erupted from his cock, painting his abs and chest. Charles watched, transfixed, as Erik's cock pulsed and throbbed, each spurt of cum landing on his taut abdomen. The sight was beautiful -

Erik's powerful body trembling, muscles clenching and unclenching as he rode out his orgasm.

Through their mental link, Charles could feel every sensation as if it were his own. The intense pleasure radiated through him, setting every nerve ending alight. He could feel the warmth of Erik's release on his skin, the pulsing of his cock, the tremors that wracked his body. It was overwhelming in the best way possible.

Charles' hand moved faster on his own length, matching the rhythm of Erik's final, shuddering thrusts. His breath came in short, desperate gasps "Erik," Charles gasped, his mental voice trembling with need. "I'm so close..."

Erik's eyes, still fixed on the mirror, seemed to burn with renewed intensity. "Then cum for me, Charles," he commanded, his voice seemingly desperate more than dominant.

Those words, combined with the sight of Erik's body glistening with sweat and cum, pushed Charles over the edge. His back arched, muscles tensing as pleasure crashed over him in waves.

"Erik.. fuck!" Charles cried out, both mentally and aloud, Charles' body shuddered as waves of intense pleasure washed over him. His cock pulsed in his hand, spurting hot ropes of cum across his clothed stomach and chest. The force of his orgasm was unlike anything he'd ever experienced - amplified by his mental connection to Erik, it felt as if every nerve ending in his body was alight with ecstasy.

Through their link, Charles could still feel the echoes of Erik's own climax mingling with his, creating a feedback loop of sensation that seemed to stretch on endlessly. His vision went white at the edges, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all.

As the final tremors subsided, Charles slumped back in his chair, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. Hyper-sensitive in the aftermath. He felt utterly spent, drainednin both body and mind.

“I really should take off my helmet more often,” Erik said, his grin widening as he glanced into the mirror, as though he could see straight into Charles’ eyes.

Charles inhaled sharply, still coming down from the adrenaline rush. “Or maybe... you should just come and see me,” he muttered, voice wavering slightly. “Skip the telepathy.”

Erik’s eyes sparkled with mischief, his smile never faltering. “You were the one spying on me, Charles. In the shower, of all places.” His tone was teasing, almost gleeful. “If only your X-Men knew what kind of traitor you really are.”

Charles could feel his face flush hot under Erik's scrutiny. "I didn’t mean to—" The thought died in his mind as Erik's mocking tone hit its mark.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Erik added, leaning back slightly, his voice lowering. “You’ve been pretty... persistent.”

Charles was caught, his mind a whirlwind of panic and curiosity. His voice came out quieter, almost stammering. “I—I wasn’t spying,” he protested weakly. “I just—I didn’t mean to.”

Erik chuckled darkly, his gaze still fixed on the mirror. “Sure you didn’t. But you couldn’t stop, could you? You wanted to watch.” His smile was almost predatory, the challenge clear in his eyes.

Charles swallowed hard, his face burning with embarrassment. Erik’s voice softened, a teasing edge still present. “Again. Next Friday?”

Charles' heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t even thinking anymore. The words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them, almost instinctively. “Okay.”

A victorious smile spread across Erik’s face, his eyes glinting with a dangerous mix of amusement and triumph. “I knew you’d come around,” he said, his voice smooth, almost as though he'd won a bet.

Charles didn’t fight it. There was no resistance, no hesitation. His mind was already made up, even if his body felt a little weak from the rush of emotions. What does it matter now?

Erik’s smirk only deepened. “Same time, Charles. Same time next week. Don’t keep me waiting.”

Charles swallowed. He didn’t know how he’d gotten himself into this, but there was no turning back now. His breath hitched, and before he could stop himself, he gave a slight nod.

“Goodbye, Erik,” he muttered, the words strained.

Erik chuckled softly, his voice lowering, dripping with something more dangerous now—something teasing, playful. “Goodbye, Charles... Try not to miss me too much.” His voice lingered with that same smirk, the words a challenge, a promise, and something else entirely.

Charles’ heart raced as Erik’s voice seemed to echo in his mind, the weight of those final words hanging heavily in the air. He took a deep breath, forced himself to focus, and severed the connection.

“If only I had a mutation that allowed me to travel through time..”

[st4rgiirll]

rose petals

evan buckley x firefighter!gf!reader

creds: roseraris for dividers!

today, you had the day off, and evan was determined to make it special.

“alright, i’ll see you in a bit,” you called over your shoulder, grabbing your keys and heading out the door.

the plan was simple: you’d run to the store for some last-minute supplies, and evan would handle the rest. he’d been acting a little mysterious lately, which was either a sign of something amazing or a new firehouse prank.

you got back and pushed the door open, the sight that greeted you made your heart race. the living room was transformed.

candles flickered softly, casting warm shadows on the walls. rose petals were scattered around, and in the center was a blanket laid out with an array of goodies—chocolate-covered strawberries, a bottle of champagne, and a couple of glasses.

“surprise!” evan’s voice rang out, full of excitement.

“wow, you really went all out!” you exclaimed, your eyes wide as you took in the scene.

he was leaning against the kitchen counter, a proud grin plastered on his face. “i figured it was about time we had a proper valentine’s day. you know, without the fire alarms and chaos.”

you laughed, stepping further inside. “this is incredible! I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“just wait,” he said, winking. “there’s more.”

“more? what else could you possibly do?” you teased, arching an eyebrow.

“just sit down and relax,” he instructed, motioning to the blanket.

“i’ve got the next part covered.” you plopped down, sinking into the softness of the blanket.

“okay, im intrigued. what’s next?” evan walked over and poured us both glasses of champagne, the bubbly fizzing to the top.

“to us,” he said, raising his glass.

“to us,” you echoed, clinking your glass against his before taking a sip.

the sweet taste danced on your tongue, making you smile. as you both settled into a comfortable conversation, you couldn’t help but admire him.

his hair fell slightly over his forehead, and the way his eyes sparkled with mischief reminded me of a kid who’d just gotten away with something.

“so, what’s the big secret you’re hiding?” you asked, leaning closer, curiosity getting the best of you.

“oh, you’ll see,” he replied, taking a dramatic pause. “but first, i want to give you something.”

he stood and disappeared into the hallway, leaving you in eager suspense. you could hear him rummaging through a drawer, and my mind raced with possibilities. was it a gift? a love letter?

when he returned, he held a small, intricately wrapped box.

“happy valentine’s day!” he said, his excitement palpable. you took the box and turned it over in your hands.

“you didn’t have to get me anything, but thank you!” you said, genuinely touched.

“trust me, this one’s special. open it!” he urged, bouncing on his heels.

with a grin, you tore off the wrapping to reveal a delicate silver necklace, a small heart pendant glinting in the light.

“evan, it’s beautiful!” you exclaimed, your heart swelling. “you really didn’t have to.”

“iwanted to,” he said softly, his gaze sincere. “you mean the world to me.”

you slipped the necklace around your neck, feeling the cool metal settle against your skin. “i love it. thank you.”

he stepped closer, the warmth of his body radiating as he brushed a stray hair behind your ear.

“you deserve all the love in the world.”

you felt a flutter in your stomach, the kind that had become all too familiar around evan. “so, what’s next on our romantic agenda?”

“well… i was thinking we do a bit of a… firefighter workout of our own..” evan smirked, ever the nympho he was.

“oh you were?” you grin.

“yeah… so get your ass up those damn stairs and strip, my fire jacket’s in the closet. get that on before i get up those stairs after you.”

[maplemaplemaplemaplemaple]

silly little ship chart template i did,,, ive thought about sashamilla a normal amount i promise .

[konigsblog]

KINKTOBER CALL OF DUTY MASTERLIST 2024

DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT

BEWARE: DARK THEMES BELOW. CONCEPTS MAY BE GRAPHIC OR UNPLEASANT. MIND THE WARNINGS.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. ALL MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED. STRICTLY 18+ ONLY.

MAY INCLUDE: KIDNAPPING, RAPE, INTOXICATION, AND OTHER GRAPHIC THEMES.

OCTOBER 1ST — DOCTOR!KÖNIG. Being drugged and used relentlessly by someone you thought you could trust. (NON-CON)

OCTOBER 2ND — RAPIST!SIMON. You should've known better. Walking around with an ass like that in such a skimpy, revealing dress... What were you thinking? (NON-CON)

OCTOBER 3RD — KIDNAPPER!PRICE. What did you expect, Birdie? Now, you'll be used relentlessly and tortured by a depraved sicko, because of your stupidity. (KIDNAPPING, RAPE)

OCTOBER 4TH — WEREWOLF!GAZ. A helpless lamb shouldn't be wandering around the forest this late at night, should they? (NON-CON)

OCTOBER 5TH — DENTIST!SOAP. Who would've thought that a simple, quick dentist visit would end in tears and a bloody mess? (KIDNAPPING, NON-CON, GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS)

OCTOBER 6TH — ELDRITCH!KÖNIG. Never in a million years would you expect to be held hostage by an intimidating monster, desperate to breed with a human like you. (MONSTER-FUCKING)

OCTOBER 7TH — STALKER!KÖNIG. You should've trusted your gut feeling. Now, you're chained to your bed inside of your own apartment, being bred relentlessly by a large, masked figure. (FORCED BREEDING, NON-CON)

OCTOBER 8TH — STEPBRO!KÖNIG. You shouldn't trust such a perverted social recluse. Now, here you are, sucking off your stepbrother hoping that he'll keep quiet. (BLACKMAIL)

OCTOBER 9TH — RAPIST!KÖNIG. He has sickening and disturbing urges, a growing crave for control. This should teach you to not wander the streets this late as a woman. (NON-CON)

OCTOBER 10TH — BESTFRIEND!SIMON. You knew something felt off, that lingering impending doom chasing you, ‘til it was all too late. (NON-CON)

OCTOBER 11TH — STEPDAD!PRICE. Your mother loves that man. You can't break her heart, let her know how sinister, perverted, and deplorable his behaviour truly is. (NON-CON)

OCTOBER 12TH — PERVERT!SOAP. Oh, forgive him, Bonnie. You know he can't help himself, and you look so adorable like this; knocked out cold and mumbling incoherently, pleading with him for mercy. (NON-CON, DRUGGING)

OCTOBER 13TH — PERVERT!GAZ. How can he not take advantage of you like this, under the influence and giggling blissfully? He'll take care of you, Dove. (DUB-CON, INTOXICATION)

OCTOBER 14TH — SOMNOPHILIAC!KÖNIG. He uses your body to cope with the reoccurring, horrifying, and haunting nightmares he has, Liebling. Forgive him, please...

OCTOBER 15TH — NERD!KÖNIG. You know how fascinated he is with knives, as well as his growing and intensifying obsession with you. Why not combine both, press a knife to your throat while using your body? (DUB-CON)

OCTOBER 16TH — STEPDAD!KÖNIG. You're even better than your mother; tighter, quieter, and younger, with a pliable mind easy to morph to fit his sickening beliefs. (DUB-CON)

OCTOBER 17TH — KIDNAPPER!KÖNIG. His punishments are unusually violent, leaving deep and agonising welts and lengthy scars on your skin, and crimson leaking from beneath your thighs. (NON-CON)

OCTOBER 18TH — STEPBRO!KÖNIG. Don't you feel sorry for him? A little sympathy? He's had nothing to violate since you left for University. Why don't you come here and bend over, let him get familiar with your smooth, comforting mouth once again?

OCTOBER 19TH — CREEP!KÖNIG. Being a sex worker isn't easy; you have your fair share of sinister pervert with immoral and wicked fantasies, and König is no exception.

OCTOBER 20TH — GYNECOLOGIST!KÖNIG. Under anaesthetics, you're a compliant and babbling mess, until you're weeping pathetically, too drugged to protect your swollen cunt from his assault. (NON-CON)

OCTOBER 31ST — CREEP!KÖNIG. Halloween parties are only fun when everyone's drunk and tipsy, too inebriated to think clearly. Nobody bats an eye when König stumbles into a frat party wearing a mask, dragging an intoxicated woman off alongside him. (NON-CON)

OCTOBER 21ST — THERAPIST!KÖNIG. Oh, how he loves to watch as you cry out. Having a fetish for sobbing isn't easy to hide when you're a therapist, but manipulating a mentally unwell patient sure is exciting.

...

[amiableness]

Only Me

Pairing: Theo Nott x Reader

Summary: Desperate to get a persistent girl off his back, Enzo and reader kiss. But when the kiss unexpectedly turns heated, Theo loses it.

Word Count: 4184

Warnings: Jealousy, a bit of possessiveness, reader kisses both Enzo and Theo (separately), and language. Let me know if there’s anything else!

A/N 💌 This idea has been bouncing around in my head for awhile! Thank you to @moonpascal for reading and giving me pointers as always <3

The common room buzzes with the familiar hum of conversation, groups of students either buried in classwork or indulging in gossip. Outside, snow is falling, making it all the more comforting to be curled up by the fire in your favorite armchair. Your knees are tucked tightly to your chest, and your book is balanced on top, though you haven’t turned a page in what feels like forever.

Your mind keeps wandering to Theo, who sits across from you on the couch, his attention seemingly on Enzo’s animated storytelling. But despite the lively chatter around you, your focus is entirely on him. For the past hour, you’ve found yourself sneaking glances in his direction, unable to tear your thoughts away.

His laugh rings out, warm and infectious, pulling your gaze to him as if by instinct. The sound is so captivating that it seems to fill the entire room, making it impossible not to look. As his laughter fades into soft, lingering chuckles, his eyes suddenly meet yours, and your stomach flips at the unexpected eye contact, the intensity of his gaze holding you in place.

He raises his eyebrow at you, his expression a hint of curiosity mixed with amusement. He finally breaks the silence, his voice low. “You know, you don’t have to sit all the way over there.”

“And where would I sit instead?” You ask, your voice lightly tinged with amusement. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Blaise arch an amused brow at your tone, clearly picking up on the flirty undertone. 

The other boys don’t seem to notice, too absorbed in their conversation. Whatever they’re discussing has them completely engrossed, their voices animated and intense. Normally, you’d eavesdrop, but today, you’re too distracted by how undeniably good Theo looks to focus on anything else.

Theo’s lips curve into a small, almost gentle smile, one that’s reserved just for you. He pats the empty space beside him on the couch, “With me, dolcezza.”

You sigh, feigning annoyance at the thought of moving, but in reality, you’re trying to suppress the flutter in your stomach as you stand and make your way over to Theo. He greets you with a grin, and you roll your eyes in response, though you can’t quite hide the smile tugging at your bottom lip, which you quickly bite down on.

You aim to sit a reasonable distance away from him, but before you can settle in, Theo surprises you by reaching out and pulling you closer, so close that you’re practically sitting on his lap. The sudden contact sends a jolt through you, catching you completely off guard.

His name slips past your lips in a breathless gasp, drawing Blaise’s attention from across the room. He looks over, his grin widening with amusement as he takes in the scene. You’re nestled closely against Theo, your body practically molded to his, with one leg draped over his lap. His arm is securely wrapped around your waist, holding you close, while his fingers lazily toy with the hem of your skirt, tracing light patterns that send shivers up your spine.

You’re so focused on steadying the nerves fluttering in your stomach that you don’t even notice the girl approaching your group. She lingers just a few feet away from Enzo, but he’s too engrossed in his conversation to see her. It isn’t until Mattheo nods in her direction with a smirk and makes a remark about the “pretty little visitor” that Enzo finally catches on.

He swivels around in his armchair, and you notice his smile falter ever so slightly before he quickly recovers, masking his reaction, “Oh, hi.” He doesn’t even bother to conceal the disappointment in his voice.

You close your eyes, wincing in disappointment as you hear Theo chuckle softly. 

“I wanted to know if you wanted to read our project before I turned it in.” The bundle of parchment crinkles in her grasp, the edges slightly rumpled from handling. Enzo’s eyes drop to the papers, his expression shifting as he takes in the sight.

“I’m good. Thanks, though.” Enzo starts to turn back to the boys, his tone polite but firm, signaling the conversation’s end. But before he can fully disengage, she takes a step forward, determination in her eyes.

“That’s fine! Maybe you’d like to do something together outside of class?” Her voice is laced with hope, almost too eager, as she tries to bridge the gap between them.

Enzo hesitates, his discomfort evident. “Uh, I don’t think so,” he says, wincing as a flush creeps up his neck, his cheeks turning pink. He glances around, clearly uneasy with the situation. “Like I said last time, I’m just not interested.” His voice softens, an attempt to let her down gently, but the awkwardness hangs in the air, making the rejection all the more painful.

“It doesn’t have to be a date.” She persists, her voice tinged with a hopeful edge. You glance over at Draco and Mattheo, who are laughing to themselves, clearly amused by the unfolding scene. She doesn’t seem to notice; her focus is entirely on Enzo, and her determination is ruthless.

“You know what? Let’s just talk about this tomorrow.” Enzo sighs, trying to find an easy out. Her face lights up at the mere mention of tomorrow, a hopeful smile spreading across her lips. She eagerly agrees, practically spinning on her heel to leave. As she walks away, Enzo lets out another sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Salazar, mate! That was pathetic.” Mattheo laughs.

Draco smirks, leaning back casually, “Honestly, Enzo, you’re being too fucking nice. She’ll keep coming back if you don’t tell her to fuck off.”

“I’ve tried!” Enzo protests, sending him an exacerbated look.

“Enzo, you can just say no directly.” You chime in, your tone light but pointed. 

Enzo looks over at you, shaking his head, “Sweetheart, I’ve tried.” Theo’s eyes narrow in annoyance at the pet name, but Enzo doesn’t notice.

“Grab a girl and make out in front of her. She’ll get the hint then,” Mattheo suggests nonchalantly, shrugging as if it’s the most obvious solution. He leans back in his chair, an arrogant smirk playing on his lips. “It’s worked for me plenty of times.”

“Are you hearing my problem? I don’t need another girl becoming attached.” Enzo snaps. Draco immediately scoffs at the mention of Enzo’s popularity with the girls of Hogwarts—it’s clearly always bothered him.

“Merlin, Enzo. Just ask one of the girls, then.” Draco huffs, his impatience evident in his tone. He rolls his eyes, clearly exasperated with the ongoing discussion. Sitting beside you, Theo tenses up slightly, his posture stiffening as he shifts uncomfortably.

“What the fuck, mate? Pans and I are together.” Blaise says, sending him an annoyed look. Draco just shrugs indifferently.

“She’d probably say yes.” Draco mumbles. He dismisses the glare Blaise throws his way.

Mattheo’s gaze drifts to you, and a sly, amused smile spreads across his face, carrying a hint of something darker in his eyes. “Well, love,” he drawls, his tone teasing, “looks like you’re the one who’ll be kissing Enzo.”

“No,” Theo grits out, his voice strained with protectiveness. His fingers spread out as he firmly grasps your hip, his fingertips creating dimples in your skin. His eyes lock onto Mattheo with a stern glare. “She isn’t.”

Theo’s reaction doesn’t catch you off guard. He’d always been protective of you. In the beginning, you chalked it up to his feelings for you, but as the years passed without anything more, you let that theory slip away.

“Unfortunately,” Draco drawls with a smirk, his voice dripping with mock sympathy, “that isn’t really up to you, mate.”

“You don’t have to,” Enzo says, his tone soft and reassuring. “That’s a lot to ask.” His words carry a gentle understanding, and Theo visibly relaxes.

Your gaze shifts to Theo, who is watching you with a furrowed brow and a trace of irritation in his eyes. You’ve been absorbed in your feelings for Theo for so long that you’ve avoided pursuing anything with anyone else. You’ve had a few kisses here and there, but they were disappointing. Kissing Enzo wouldn’t be awful. Probably the exact opposite. You’ve heard the giggles and whispers around school about how good it is to kiss Enzo. Much more than just that, actually.

Maybe things with Theo would never work out, and you’d always just be his best friend. You could accept that. But if that’s how it was going to be, he didn’t have the right to tell you not to kiss Enzo.

“I’ll let you kiss me.” You say, your voice firm. The boys exchange stunned and uneasy glances, their eyes darting nervously toward Theo, who stares at you in wide-eyed disbelief. 

The room feels charged with tension as Theo’s expression darkens, “Dolcezza—”

“It’s not up for debate, Theo. If Enzo wants to kiss me, he can,” You assert, pulling away from Theo and turning so you’re directly facing Enzo. Theo’s frown deepens, his hands clenching slightly as he struggles to suppress the urge to haul you back onto his lap. The tension is palpable as he watches you with frustration and reluctance. You glance back at Enzo, your voice softening as you add, “I don’t mind, Enz.”

“Are you sure?” Enzo asks softly, his voice barely audible. Theo shoots him a sharp, warning glare. Enzo casts an uneasy glance at Theo before turning his attention back to you.

“I trust you.” You say with a soft smile, your eyes meeting his. Enzo’s tension eases a tad as he returns the smile.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

You arrive at your usual spot in the Great Hall well before the rest of your friends, hoping to settle in for a quiet breakfast and then head straight to class. Just as you begin to relax, Pansy slides into the seat next to you with a grin, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she catches your eye.

“I just heard the most scandalous thing.” Pansy says with a sly smile, leaning in as if sharing a secret.

“Did you?” You ask, taking a slow sip of your tea and watching her with a hint of amusement.

“I heard that Theo Nott’s girl will be making out with his best mate.” She hums thoughtfully, casting you a knowing glance as she carefully fills her plate.

“I don’t think Theo Nott has a girl.” You give her a pointed look as you speak. Pansy sighs, clearly tempted to launch into one of her usual lectures about how Theo feels the same way. But before she can say anything, the boys start to trickle in, their expressions groggy.

Theo’s mood is already sour and only worsens when he narrows his eyes at you, his gaze honing in on the subtle sheen on your lips. “Are you wearing lip gloss?” he asks, suspicion lacing his tone.

You hum in confirmation, a small, carefree sound that only makes Theo’s stomach churn harder. He feels a wave of nausea rise, the thought of you putting on lipgloss to kiss someone else—especially Enzo—causing an unsettling tightness in his chest. His jaw clenches as he struggles to keep it together. Mattheo and Draco watch him closely, clearly entertained as their eyes dart back and forth between the two of you.

His food sits forgotten as he stares at you incredulously, “Why?”

“What do you mean why? If I’m kissing Enzo, I want my lips to be soft for him.” Enzo flushes a deep red, and Theo stares at you in disbelief as the rest of your friends erupt in whistles and teasing comments, reacting to what you’ve just said.

Even though it seemed a bit unnecessary, you had applied some lip product and brushed your teeth for an unusually long time. The last thing you wanted was for him to think poorly of the kiss. 

“Careful, Nott. After this kiss, she might not be your girl anymore.” Draco snarks with a smirk, his voice laced with amusement. You hold your breath, anticipating Theo’s reaction, but to your disappointment, he says nothing.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

Theo’s mood simmered down throughout the day, and you guessed it was because you hadn’t needed to kiss Enzo. You spent the entire day without catching even a glimpse of the girl Enzo was avoiding. Throughout the day’s classes, you remained on edge, ready to put on a show with Enzo if necessary. 

But as the hours passed and she failed to appear, it became increasingly clear that you might not need to kiss one of your best friends today. With hardly anyone in the halls, you hadn’t anticipated crossing paths with her again.

“How about a girls’ night tonight?” You ask, throwing a pointed glance at the boys trailing behind you. “I need a break from them.”

Pansy grinned, “Even Nott?”

“Oh, fuck off,” You laugh, playfully swatting at her arm with your free hand while balancing your book in the other. “Even Nott.”

“I would. But Blaise and I are hanging out.” Her tone is suggestive, and you respond with a knowing glance.

“Make sure you—” Your words are abruptly silenced as a firm grip pulls you backward. Enzo’s arm wraps securely around your waist, hauling you against his chest. The sudden, intimate contact leaves you breathless and disoriented. Before you can fully grasp what’s happening, his lips are on yours, hot and demanding. The sheer intensity of the kiss makes your heart race wildly, and a startled moan escapes from deep within you.

Your hand, momentarily frozen, then moves with a mind of its own, sliding into his hair. Your fingers bury themselves in the soft, silky strands, feeling the slight tremor of his breaths against your skin as the kiss deepens. Enzo’s other hand finds its way to the side of your neck, his thumb brushing along your throat. The tender, intimate touch sends a jolt of desire through you, making you gasp softly. Your book slips from your grasp, thudding heavily on the floor, but you’re too absorbed in the moment to notice. With your other hand now free, it instinctively reaches up to clutch his bicep, using him to hold yourself up.

Enzo’s lips trail a heated path from the corner of your mouth, inching toward the sensitive spot just below your ear. Each kiss sends a shiver through you, leaving your body feeling as though it’s melting into his touch. The intensity of the moment is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before, and you find yourself lost, feeling his lips on you.

Clearly, you hadn’t picked the right guys to kiss before.

“Theo is going to beat my ass for touching you.” Enzo’s breathy whisper grazes your ear, sending a shiver down your spine before he begins to pull back. To his surprise, you instinctively lean forward, your eyes fluttering closed as you chase after his retreating lips, your breath mingling with his in a shared moment of longing. Just as he’s about to close the gap and kiss you again, Theo’s hand shoots out, gripping the collar of Enzo’s shirt with a firm hold. He yanks Enzo away with a decisive tug, his eyes blazing.

He’s absolutely furious.

“You’re fucking crazy if you think I’m letting you kiss her again. She ran off the second you grabbed Y/n.” Theo snaps, his tone icy and edged with contempt.

It takes a moment for you to register that Theo is talking about Enzo’s relentless former class partner.

His gaze locks onto the lip gloss smeared across Enzo’s lips, and a dangerous glint flares in his eyes. The flicker of anger in his gaze sharpens as he takes a deliberate step forward, his posture radiating barely contained tension. His fingers twitch at his sides, visibly itching to confront his best friend, the promise of retribution clear in his stance.

Enzo remains silent, but his eyes shift to you, conveying a mixture of regret and concern. Theo’s gaze follows, landing on you. Your lips are swollen from the intensity of the kiss, your chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. Your eyes, still wide and slightly glassy, remain fixed on Enzo.

You look wrecked, and Theo despises it.

Without a second thought, Theo takes a decisive step forward, his jaw clenched tightly and his fingers digging into his palms. The sudden movement is charged with barely contained anger, his eyes locked onto Enzo with a fierce intensity.

“Nott!” Blaise barks, clapping a hand on Theo’s shoulder. “It was just a kiss.”

“Quite the kiss, though.” Draco adds with a smirk, his eyes twinkling with mischief. Mattheo lets out a low whistle, clearly entertained. Theo responds with a withering glare, his expression darkening.

Blaise shoves Theo back forcefully, his voice cutting through the tension. “Take your girl and go cool off.” He commands, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Theo fixes Blaise with a scathing glare, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he shoves past him, grabs your hand with a firm grip, and pulls you down the hall toward his dorm, his movements fueled by anger and jealousy.

You protest, urging him to slow down, but he disregards your words, muttering curses in Italian under his breath. With a fierce shove, he throws open the door to his dorm. You trail after him, and as soon as you step inside, he slams the door shut behind you. As you watch, he paces the room, his hands running through his hair in frustration.

You’ve never seen him like this before—raw and seething.

He spins around to face you, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and distress, “What the fuck was that, dolcezza?’

There’s a moment of silence before you murmur, “A kiss,” as you lean against the door. Theo’s eyes follow your hand as it gently touches your swollen lips, and he sees the distant, reflective look in your eyes.

A flash of something dark and possessive ignites in his gaze. He clenches his jaw, the flicker of jealousy sharp and stinging. The sight of you lingering on the memory of Enzo’s kiss twists in his gut, fueling an intense surge of anger. He can’t stand seeing you so absorbed in someone else’s touch.

“That wasn’t just a kiss.” Theo snaps, his voice clipped.

“It was a bit much,” You reply with a resigned sigh, your gaze meeting his. “But it felt good—”

“Kissing him felt good?” Theo interrupts, his voice dropping to a strained, dangerous whisper. Each word cuts through the space between you with an intensity that makes your heart pound. He steps closer, his eyes blazing with anger and disbelief. You falter, your words catching in your throat as you watch him. “Is that really what you think I want to hear?”

“I don’t know what you want to hear.” You admit, your voice barely above a whisper. You meet his gaze with a defiant look, trying to hold your ground even as your heart races.

Theo’s eyes darken, and he takes another step closer, his face inches from yours. His breath is warm against your skin, mingling with your uneven gasps. 

“I want to hear that it meant absolutely nothing to you.” Theo says.

“It didn’t.” You confirm, eyes fixed on his, your breath catching in your throat. This is the closest you’ve ever been, the closest you’ve ever allowed yourself to imagine that he might actually kiss you.

“It didn’t?” He repeats, his voice low and dangerously soft. “Because it sure looked like it did.” The intensity in his eyes is almost overwhelming, and you can almost feel the heat of frustration radiating off him.

“It was just a kiss, Theo. It wasn’t real.” You say, looking away, a slight hint of exasperation to your tone.

“Are you sure he felt that way?”

“Enzo?” Your eyes snap back to him in disbelief. Theo stares blankly at you. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” He retorts, his voice shifting from anger to something softer, almost vulnerable. “Because the girl I love is standing in front of me, talking about how kissing my best friend felt good.”

The words hang in the air, and your heart stutters as you struggle to take it all in. The anger that once fueled his every move is now mingled with something else—something that feels like hope. The intensity of his confession leaves you momentarily stunned, your mind reeling as you try to make sense of it. Theo’s eyes hold yours, a storm of anger, hurt, and vulnerability brewing just beneath the surface.

“Theo…” You begin, but your voice falters, and you struggle to formulate a sentence. All you had ever wanted was for him to confess, and now that he had, you found yourself at a loss. The moment you’d imagined so many times was finally here, yet the reality of it left you frozen, uncertain of how to respond.

He steps closer, his hand lifting to gently brush his fingers against your cheek. The space between you is almost gone now. His gaze flickers to your lips, and you can see the conflict in his eyes—the tension between the desire to hold you close and the hurt of picturing you with someone else.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve loved you, dolcezza?” Theo’s voice drops to a whisper, thick with emotion, as he gently traces your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. The delicate touch sends a shiver down your spine, your breath hitching in response. His gaze flickers from your eyes, filled with desire and uncertainty, down to your parted lips, lingering there as if trying to memorize every curve and tremble. “Years,” he breathes, the word heavy with longing, his thumb still grazing your lip as if he’s afraid to let go.

The air between you feels charged, thick with emotions that have been kept buried for far too long. Theo’s confession hangs between you like a fragile thread, one that could break with a single wrong move. His thumb continues its gentle path along your lip, the contact sending a rush of warmth through your body.

“Years?” You echo, your voice wrecked as the realization sinks in. The word feels foreign on your tongue, like something you’ve never quite understood until now. 

Theo nods, his eyes never leaving yours. “I tried to push it away,” he admits, his voice low and raw. “Tried to convince myself it wasn’t real, that it was just some stupid crush I’d get over. But it wasn’t. It isn’t.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

His thumb stills against your lip, and his expression darkens with regret. “Because I didn’t want to ruin what we had. I didn’t want to risk losing you. But now…” He trails off, his gaze dropping to your lips again, his resolve wavering. “But I can’t stand the thought of someone else touching you, kissing you, when I’ve been waiting all this time.”

“Theo…” You murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, as you reach up to cup his face. Your fingers brush against the rough stubble on his jaw, and he leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment.

When he opens them again, they’re filled with a desperate kind of hope, one that makes your heartache. You whisper, “Will you please just kiss me?”

He moves with an intense determination, his hand sliding up to cradle the side of your head, fingers curling possessively just beneath your ear. The raw intensity in his gaze overwhelms you, a mix of longing and vulnerability that feels both foreign and intimately familiar. The depth of emotion in his eyes constricts your chest, an unexpected surge of feeling threatening to make you tremble.

His thumb trails a fiery path along your cheek, the warmth of his touch igniting a wave of sensation. As he leans in, the air between you becomes electrified with tension. When his lips finally connect with yours, the kiss is a fierce collision of need and tenderness—a deliberate press that lingers.

Your fingers clutch the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, and he responds by pressing you firmly against the door. The proximity makes you draw a sharp, shuddering breath, a sound that mingles with the deeper kiss as he intensifies the connection. His lips are urgent and demanding, yet tender, each movement sending a shiver down your spine. His other hand braces against the door next to your head, anchoring you both in this intimate, electrifying moment.

The space between you disappears, replaced by the searing heat of his body against yours, drawing you irresistibly into him. Breathless, you’re lost in him, more exhilarated than you’ve ever been. His lips against yours send your mind reeling, and you know that if you weren’t pinned against the door, you’d cling to him just to stay upright.

When you finally pull back, breathless and dizzy, Theo’s forehead rests against yours, his eyes still closed as he savors the moment. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice breaking.

You smile softly, your heart swelling as your throat constricts with emotion. “I’ve loved you for just as long.”

please consider reblogging or leaving a comment! it keeps me motivated to write! 💌

[yawnderu]

A one-night stand with Simon completely ruins you for any other man.

His hands are forever tainted with blood and sin, yet despite the callouses adorning the rough skin, Simon’s touch is uncharacteristically gentle for someone his size, nearing a dangerous softness that has your heart beating faster by the second. 

His grip on your hips tightens, pulling you down onto his thick, hard cock, the flared tip slamming into the depths of your cunt, every single sensitive spot stimulated, the sound of flesh hitting flesh echoing through the dimly lit room, mingling with your moans.

“Look at you.” His deep voice is thick with approval, tired eyes tracing the line of your collarbone, the swell of your tits, the curve of your waist, admiring you like you're nothing short of a work of art. So fucking perfect, and all his for the night. 

“Fuckin’ beautiful.” More than death’s instrument, Simon Riley is just a man, unable to resist temptation— unable to resist the pleading look in your eyes, silently begging for more. His grip on your hips falters, one of his hands trailing up your sweaty, warm skin, pulling you down until your face finds shelter on the crook of his neck, your soft lips hovering over his pulse, a silent display of trust given with such ease to a complete stranger. 

He pulled back and thrust inside you again, setting a less brutal rhythm, nothing in his hazy mind but the goal of making you cum first.  He couldn’t help but reach between your bodies, applying light pressure on your swollen clit as he fucked you deeper, his thick tip ramming against your cervix over and over, his breath hot against your skin with each groan leaving his lips.

His free hand comes up to grasp your jaw, fingers lightly digging into the skin as he captures your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue tangling with yours in a primal dance of lust. The bitter taste of tobacco and bourbon in his saliva makes you whine, your soft hands coming up to cup his cheeks, half-lidded brown eyes meeting your gaze when you pull away.

“Fuck… gonna cum.” Simon’s breath grows heavier at the pure hunger in your eyes, dancing along a vulnerability he wasn’t used to. Amid the pleasure coiling in your stomach, your hips begin to move to match his intense pace, meeting his thrusts halfway. Simon’s thumb presses harder against your swollen clit, circling it slowly, your walls tightening around his aching cock, dragging a quiet, muffled moan out of him.

“That’s it, sweetheart, cum for me.” Simon’s voice quivers as he lets out a low groan, his free hand going down to grab a handful of your ass, the fat and muscle seeping through his fingers when he squeezes. He pushes deeper into you, trying to reach that blissful peak you both crave. His thrusts grow more desperate, a familiar tightness in his lower stomach threatening to make him cum, using your body as leverage to fuck into you harder, deeper. 

“Oh… oh, fuck.” His cock twitches at your whiny moans, your walls growing even tighter around him, eyes rolling back as you finally collapse on top of him, heavy breaths leaving those soft lips he has grown to adore. Simon follows right after, unable to hold himself back, burying his cock inside you as deep as possible. Ropes of thick, hot cum paint your insides, marking you as his, even if only for that night. 

“You okay?” He tucked your face into his neck, allowing you to breathe in his scent— cigarettes, gunpowder, and the faint smell of licorice. He leaned down, pressing tender kisses all over your forehead and cheeks, not minding the thin layer of sweat coating your skin. His hands are warm and gentle, running up and down your back as you both catch your breath, giving you time to recover. 

“Mhm.” He pulled out of you slowly, tugging you into his side, his hand drifting down to your belly, rubbing circles on the tender skin to soothe you, his other hand pulling you closer, the aftermath of your passion lingering between you. Your fingers linger on his side, hesitantly running up and down, feeling the multiple bumps from old scars, gently rubbing a particularly bad set over his ribs.  His breath hitches, yet he remains quiet, allowing you to have all of him.

[mrsbarnesblog]

loyalty

masterlist

summary: Rafe comes back home to you after his meeting with Hollis

word count: 2k.

warnings: smut, established relationship, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, jealousy, reader is slightly insecure

You turned the TV in the living room off as soon as you heard the front door getting closed and the familiar ring of Rafe’s keys being thrown on the table. Patting slowly into the corridor, you bit your lip at the sight of him standing in the hallway, looking sexy as hell in that new sweater of his, and focused on something on his phone. 

“Hey, baby. How did it go?” You stepped closer, dragging Rafe’s attention to you as a soft smile stretched across his face. 

“Thought you were already sleeping.” He put his phone in the back pocket of his pants, now completely focused on you, and pulled you in his arms as soon as you approached him. Rafe hummed in your hair before picking you up from the floor and forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist. “Missed you so much, sweetheart.” 

You giggled at his words, your own hands connecting around Rafe’s neck, feeling every single muscle moving under your fingers. “You saw me like two hours ago.” You mumbled, scratching his neck with your nails, relieving the tension you knew was always present in his body. He silently walked back into the living room, one hand firmly holding you under your thighs, and fell onto the couch's soft cushions. 

You were settled on his lap, your worn-out gray t-shirt lifted up, almost not leaving anything for the imagination. He kissed you roughly and unexpectedly, taking a breath away from your lungs. You moaned into Rafe's mouth, gripping the back of his buzzed head to try to keep up with his pace, but he seemed far too eager for you. 

He finally slightly moved away from you, resting against the back of the couch and looking at you with a lazy smile, while his tongue slowly swiped across his bottom lip, tasting you. Your eyes followed the motion and you shifted on his lap at the sudden pressure in between your legs.  

“Couldn’t wait to get home back to you, baby.” You held back your smile but leaned your head to the side, studying his face. You knew Rafe and knew when there was something on his mind. 

“Did something happen?” You lean closer to his face, resting your hands on the cushions behind him. 

“Didn’t sign that yet... I dunno, something seems off, y’know?” He mumbled and rubbed your legs up and down, as he did whenever he was thinking about something. “And she was hitting on me, like tryna hold my hand and shit.” He didn’t break eye contact with you even when your smile slowly faded and you instantly felt a weird feeling in the pit of your stomach. A quiet oh left your lips, as your mind filled with the images of them together, alone on the boat, just a perfect opportunity for someone like Rafe to charm the woman to get more money. “No, no, you’re not moving. You don’t think that I did it, do you?” He tightened his grip on you when you attempted to leave his lap.

“I mean…” You casually shrugged your shoulders, which made Rafe actually laugh in disbelief. 

“You mean?” His hand took a hold of your face to make you look him in the eyes. “I may be many things but a cheater is not one of them, baby. Shit, actually, her doing all of this made me realize that I can’t even think about anyone but you.” Rafe looked at you, one hand dragging your body up his thighs until you were sitting chest-to-chest. 

“I know that you wouldn’t cheat but...”

“There’s no ‘but’. I told her that I wanted to sign that agreement for both me and you. I’m not interested in anything else. Just you.” You felt like you were melting under his intense stare, because you knew when Rafe said something, he meant it. “You, um… I want it all together, just us, y’know?”

Your heart was beating way too hard to be considered normal. You never expected to hear it from Rafe, always in the back of your mind facing a thought about not being enough, about him leaving you for a better opportunity. No matter how hard you tried to muffle that voice in your head, it always seemed to find a way to you. Yet Rafe had it right in front of him but didn’t do it. 

This time you were the one who kissed him. Fisting the collar of Rafe’s sweater, you pulled him closer to you, even if it was not possible, grinding your hips into his and moaning at the feeling of his hands sneaking under your shirt. 

“Tell me that you’re in it with me, baby. I need to hear it.” He mumbled into your mouth, tracing your stomach and then pinching your nipples in between his fingers. He buckled his hips up into your covered pussy, making you push your lower body back against his to relieve the pressure. 

“I’m with you, Rafe, I promise.” 

Your hands reached between you two, quickly unbuckling Rafe’s belt and barely even pushing his pants and boxers down. You both were too desperate to feel each other, not even bothering to take the clothes off or move to his bedroom. Rafe lifted your hips with one hand, pushing your panties to the side with the other one, while you stroked his throbbing cock. You guided him to your soaked entrance, letting him easily slip inside with the way how wet you were for him. 

“Shi-i-it, baby.” He hissed near your ear, pulling you lower onto him, until you took his whole length. Your nails dug into Rafe’s sweater, and your brows furrowed in pleasure at the delicious stretch that he gave you. “Takin’ me in so well, huh?” His voice was low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine as he held you steady against him. You could feel his breath hot against your ear, and the way he filled you made your head spin, every inch of him pressing deeper.

“Please, I need you.” Whining and pushing your knees against the couch, you barely moved yourself up from Rafe’s length when he pushed you back down, instead taking control of you.  

“God, you’re perfect,” he murmured, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he rocked you slowly, the friction making you moan softly into his neck. “You feel that? Just made for me, baby.” His tone was a mix of praise and hunger, and each word sent heat coursing through your body. “Don’t need anyone else but you.”

You nodded, pulling your face back and resting your forehead against his. The air between you was thick, your mouths hovering close to each other, moaning and groaning with each thrust of Rafe’s hips into yours. His gaze was locked on you, dark blues possessive and filled with lust, which almost made you spiral. 

“You know you’re the only one, right?” Rafe’s voice was a husky whisper, eyes locked on yours with an intensity that made your heart race. “Forget about her. I don’t see anyone but you.” He tilted his head slightly, brushing his lips against yours, teasing, his hands gripping your hips firmly, as if to prove his point. “She doesn’t matter. You’re all I want.”

You kissed him, the jealousy washing away with every word and touch that Rafe gave you. You held his jaw with one hand, sneaking under the sweater with another to slide your nails down his chest. It felt like kissing you made him even more feral, even more greedy, as his grip tightened on your hips, and he fucked into you harder and harder. 

It was impossible to concentrate on anything besides the way his dick was filling you, making your head buzz with white noise from the pleasure. Your eyes started to water, feeling approaching orgasm. Your body almost tried to move away from Rafe’s brutal strokes, but he grabbed your ass, keeping you pinned down, ensuring you took every inch he had to give.

“Mhm, Ray, shit—” Your hoarse voice cracked as you tried to speak, but all that came out was a broken moan. Your eyes rolled back, your hand helplessly sliding down from his face, as you were no longer able to control yourself. Rafe smirked, clearly pleased with how you lost yourself  on top of him, his pace relentless, fucking up into you with bruising force.

“Yeah? You feel that?” He growled, his breath ragged as he watched your face contort in pleasure. “You’re not going anywhere. This is all for you, baby.” His grip tightened, almost painful, as he rocked into you harder, each thrust sending sparks of electricity through your body, pushing you right to the edge. “Cum for me, c’mon.” 

“Rafe—” You gasped, your voice barely a whisper, lost in the haze of pleasure that blurred your thoughts. His hand slid up to cradle the back of your neck, pulling you down so your lips were just inches from his, your breath mingling as you both panted for air.

“That’s it, baby.” He whispered against your lips, his eyes burning with intensity. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

With one final, deep thrust, the coil inside you snapped, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Your vision blurred, and all you could do was cling to him as your orgasm hit hard, your body trembling uncontrollably in his arms.

Too lost in the pleasure, you barely noticed him grunting your name and then moanning as his own orgasm hit him. Rafe filled you up to the brim, you felt every throb of his cock inside of you, barely able to hold back whimpers from the goosebumps that the feeling of it brought you.

“Good girl.” Rafe murmured, his low voice full of pride and satisfaction as he slowed his movements, letting you ride out your high while holding you close, his forehead still pressed to yours. 

You didn’t know when exactly Rafe pushed your both to your sides, or when did he pulled out of you and fixed your clothes to look more presentable, or when did he pulled a blanket over you. You blinked slowly, looking at his face right in front of you, feeling his delicate fingers pushing the hair away from your face and tracing your jawline and lips. You smiled at the feeling, relishing a rare moment of him being so soft and relaxed. 

“So what are you gotta do now?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you watched him, curiosity mingling with concern. The playful glint in his eyes shifted for a moment, revealing the weight of the situation.

Rafe leaned in closer, his expression shifting from relaxed to focused. “Well, Hollis thinks she can play me. Thinks I’m an idiot, but I’m not. I’m not about to let that happen.” He replied, his tone low, sarcastic. “I’ll need to keep her close, let her think she’s in control, but really? I’m just waiting for the right moment to turn the tables.”

“You’re not.” You soothed when you saw annoyance start to rise in him. You placed your hand on top of his, giving a comforting squeeze. “I believe in you, and I know you’re gonna do the right thing. Maybe she’ll know better for trying to steal you away from me.”

A smirk tugged at his lips, and he nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing a bit. “Damn right, she will. I’m not going anywhere, especially not with you by my side.” He leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft kiss and bringing you even closer to his body. 

[hoseoksluna]

LITTLE JUICE | JJK

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x wine!oc

genre: smut, pwp

rating: 18+

summary: when you get insecure about being constantly needy for your boyfriend, jungkook shows you that it's okay.

word count: 6.4k

warnings: the plot is TEENY TINYYYY in this one, pure filth, mirror sex, dd/lg, little space, new roles for the wine universe omg, jungkook is a caretaker, pet names, degradation kink, praise kink, dry humping, they're so in love it's sickening, oral sex (f. & m. receiving), fingering, squirting, daddy issues, heavy dom/sub dynamics, handjob, penetrative sex without condom, cowgirl, plushies used in a sexual situation.

luna's note: i'm so sorry i couldn't get this out for you on xmas day since i was so sick, but let this be a gift for the new year! i missed writing smut sooooo much, and i can't wait to get back to it starting january. this was so fun omg. i missed wine sm. my daddy issues be daddy issuing so this has something new in it, i'm super excited abt it!! i hope you like this and that you enjoy reading. make sure to let me know what you think in my ask box!! mommy luna is baaaaackkkkkkk. HAPPY NEW YEARRRRR. <3 (one day early but i felt like saying it idc) BIG MWAH.

luna's necessary side note: i missed u all so damn much wtf. OH, AND HAPPY BDAY TAEHYUNGGGGGG.

𓂃 ౨ৎ

taglist | join here: @jjk7k, @tkslovechild, @euphoricmyth, @cinmmongirl, @ririkookiemonster, 

@perfectiondazesworld, @https-mei, @bangtansonyeondanue, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, 

@hoseokkie-caeks, @kam9404, @fr0ggieth1nk, @parkinglot-nights, @sadgirlroo

The mirrors, lining the walls, are nearly all fogged up once you take a step inside the vast rehearsal room. A certain mellow, yet familiar song led you towards the right door—one that made your ears perk up in curiosity because it reminded you of something you’d heard a long time ago, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. Not until you rearranged your bobas into the crook of your elbow and slid open the door. 

The stuffiness of the room only added to the sensual aura of the song, and your legs nearly gave out on you. 

No BS by Chris Brown.

The song that started it all.

Jungkook, clothed in black from head to toe, seems to be locked in his own world as he moves his body in the center of the room, his chest and feet hitting each beat without a singular mistake or a misstep. And when the chorus of the song flows in, his whole figure follows suit. It rolls into the rhythm like the slowest, most passionate wave of the sea that splits in the middle and begins to course down your sternum. Your cheeks darken with a feverish tint. You feel every inch of his movements inside you as if he were there, and when Jungkook spins and sinks to his knees, propping only one Nike-shod foot on the floor, and he hip-thrusts before he continues those rippling motions to the last beats, the muscles of your thighs quiver on reflex and your dampened private parts flutter.

You did not expect to see that when you texted Jungkook you were going to visit him just because you finished work early and you could get boba before your favorite shop closed. You feel as though you just got blessed twice. 

TGIF, indeed. Never in your life had you ever thought you’d celebrate the work week ending like you are right now—with two bobas in your arm, cooling your heated skin, and with your eyes witnessing erotically angelic artistry in a humid room. And with your sensitive parts outright dripping, too, because the song ends, enveloping the room in a silence that welcomes in Jungkook’s heavy breathing as he slumps back onto his back, his chest lifting and falling in the air. 

You feel fuzzily faint. He made you wet in record time and he hasn’t even touched you. Nor has he looked at you. 

Instinctively, your hand grasps your mango boba and you press it against the side of your face. Smile to yourself as a lightbulb flicks to life in your mind. 

Leaving behind your purse, you take both of the delightful treats and walk over to him. His eyes are closed as he’s absolutely unaware of your presence, your steps soft and sly. His round, sweat-splotched nose puffs out hard breaths that move through you and you coo to yourself silently before you place both of your feet on either side of him. You squat down, careful not to let your bum touch his lap, and you get his boba ready, placing your own on the ground. And with the loudest roar you can muster, you press the drink to his glistening cheek. 

He yelps. His fear-filled eyes fly open, his hands quick to catch you as you tumble down on him in reaction, your lungs submerging the room in your obscenely loud giggles. Tears of laughter cloud your vision, preventing you from seeing the horror twisting his face, but the little you saw was enough to douse your body in extraordinary elation. The tapioca inside the long cup swirls as it swims ferociously in the thick, violet liquid, mimicking the roundness and the blackness of his pupils with utmost perfection. 

You swipe a finger under your eye, speckles of your glitter smearing its pad. You lean down, your laughter subdued as it slowly fades out, and you can see the horror smoothing out and transforming, seamlessly, into a relieved adoration that taps against your heart. You kiss him with the boba now cooling your cheek as well. Leave behind a hard peck on his perspiration-coated mouth that makes him softly hum into this physical exchange of love, and just before you draw away, he breathes out against you with his nose. And that doesn’t just tap on your heart, it knocks on it most warmly. 

You love him so much. Too much. So much that the simplest of his body and human reactions make you feel things. Things that normal girls don’t normally feel. 

Good thing you’re not a normal girl. 

You’re a messed up girl. And you’re a girl in love. Have been for the past year. 

“You scared the shit out of me.” 

Your mouth widens into a pleased grin, and the light bulb that shone in a bright yellow melts into a warm, dusky pink tinge that floods your spine—only because he squeezes the dip of your waist that you’ve been working hard at carving out. A new thing you’ve implemented into your daily routine after you’ve gotten a new job that doesn’t allow you to fuck him all day long like you used to. The sex has gotten even better with time as the wine of his love ripened and matured. To such an extent that you found yourself craving it more than you had in those times when you were just seeing him for sex. Two rounds aren’t enough for you—and you remember well that after two rounds you were usually too exhausted to even keep your eyes open. Now, because you have matured too, your vessel for his love and his liquid stars has grown, needing more to feel satisfied to the fullest. The new job kept you away from him, the long hours teased you. So much that your bathroom breaks were too frequent and obvious and you spent them locked in a bathroom stall with one hand in your panties and your other holding your phone to your ear while Jungkook guided you, his hand, too, in his pants, locked in the same place on the other side of the line, whispering encouraging, lewd instructions that sent you shaking over the edge in mere minutes. 

Instructions that got him in trouble at his workplace, hence why he had to come up with a solution. Because your thirst was never quenched in minutes. His voice was too pretty, and too soft. 

Gym five times a week for you, dance lessons for him, physical distance for the both of you. A perfect solution for a perfect problem. All that sexual frustration was released during those exercises filled with delicious pain and you went to work the next day free of that carnal lust swishing in your veins. You focused on your work, and you didn’t have to take long bathroom breaks. You didn’t even need a spare pair of panties in your purse anymore.

It worked—and it’s completely crazy to you that all it took for you to break your public purity streak was seeing him dance like that. 

You sit up and with your swift movement, the squelching sound of your cunt rubbing up against your juices sounds out across the room. Your cheeks heat up with a different shade of red as embarrassment runs down your spine, especially as Jungkook’s brows twitch upwards and his eyes widen, his large hands lowering down a little, following the curve of your figure that leads to his favorite part of you. 

Your hips. 

A blush scatters upon his cheeks, too. He heard it. 

He calls out your name, sweeping his tongue across his abruptly dry and chapped bottom lip. Your name, not princess, not baby. Your government name without any embellishment of adoration. 

You’re in trouble. 

Your embarrassment pinches you at the two dimples on the small of your back. “Y-yeah?” 

Jungkook opens his mouth, but he pauses for a moment. As if he could sense where the emotion touched you, his long and warm fingers find its icy traces that it left behind while still keeping the crooks of his thumb anchored on your hip bones. 

“Did you get wet for me?” 

A shiver cascades down the slender column of your back, a visible one for his eyes to see that coax out his softness for you, evident in the roundness of his bottom lip that he juts out, triggering your unprecedented shyness. What a drastic shift of dynamic in your relationship you perceive this to be. All along, for a year long, the atmosphere of your shared love has been nothing but an environment of safety, where you could unfold your sexuality as naturally and confidently as you wanted to without an ounce of coyness. Introduce an unyielding desire and a well-meaning solution for it into the equation and watch the change bloom. 

For some reason, you’re reminded of his past, now distant, liking of a certain degradation kink that once grew like vines across your intimate relations with him. The memories travel along your veins—the vulgar pet names, the calling out, the rough handling—and crest at your core, moistening the center of your panties even more as your walls pull in. And the way Jungkook takes that bottom lip between his teeth divulges to you quite clearly that he feels it. 

Which is a bad thing because you can’t lie about it. 

But… you can’t divert his attention from it. 

You slosh his drink in your hand. “I got you your favorite,” you chirp, the boba twirling beneath your hand while his identical pupils remain unmoving, unblinking, fixed on you. You manage a smile, but its staticness crumbles as soon as you realize that Jungkook isn’t really influenced by your change of topic. “Taro boba. I got a milk one, too. Mango. You wan—”

His hands descend down to your thighs, squeezing, halting the tide of your words, the progression of your trick. His fingers slip beneath the hem of your skirt and before you know it, he lifts you just a little bit to maneuver you and make you sit on the shaft of his semi. A low gasp gushes out of your throat as well as a leak of your dew not only onto the fabric of your underwear but onto the material that now clings to his manhood. 

He twitches, hardening beneath your pussy, and gooseflesh pricks your skin. 

“Mango? You always get Taro with me.” 

The glitter from your eye make-up that you smeared across his cheek during your kiss twinkles underneath the dimmed light and he doesn’t guide your hips to move against him. No, he rolls his own—ever so slowly, ever so discreetly. His hands merely hold you down, but nothing about it is forceful. Subdued pleasure springs up your sternum, pooling in your head, making you woozy as quickly as if he were pouring booze down your throat. And when he heightens the pressure enough that he twitches again, you recognize he’s doing the same move that is a part of the choreo he was practicing. 

Your heart hammers against your chest. Your nipples pebble against your cotton top, and Jungkook’s eyes fly to them, catching and taking in their aroused state, perhaps even coaxing it out of them. 

A sigh leaves his mouth. He fists the hem of your skirt, dipping his head into the current of the pleasure he’s giving both of you, and so do you. 

You just can’t help it; you can’t fight it. When your toe touches the surface of the wine of your shared love, nothing can keep you from taking a dip. And the same applies to Jungkook, too. In this case, he’s dripping in red, having slipped entirely into the current, one arm out of the water, fingers wrapped around your ankle, pulling you into the water. 

And something about his desire lessens your strange coyness. His lack of solution offering brings down the stigma, setting you free. And you missed him. You missed him terribly. Haven’t felt his dick in five fucking days. 

You place your hands on top of his. 

A small fire begins to burn within the snug blackness of his eyes. All of a sudden, the noises he stifled come out in soft, almost inaudible growls that cause your clit to throb and your nails to dig half-moons into the skin of his hands. A green light from you for him to enjoy this—and he does. Jungkook throws his head back, his pretty chin pointing to the ceiling, and his big chest heaves. 

It is only at this moment that his eyes leave yours just to bask in this forbidden pleasure. 

Anyone could walk in—the doors aren’t locked, nor are they shut at all. Anyone could think the practice room is available for personal use, without a single soul present. And anyone could see you riding the horsey because the sight of him lost in the vivacity of it all forces you most carnally to give him more. 

You hump him. 

“My friend got it the other day and she said it was delicious,” you breathe out, speaking of your unordinary choice of boba. The movements of your hips are small, minuscule, but hard enough that his knuckles get painted with a shade of ivory that sprinkle your chest with little shocks of joy and pride. A thick vein bulges on the side of his throat as Jungkook tries his best not to let out the entirety of his noises that his body is brimming with—and for that very reason, you grab his hands and place them very brattily on your perked, full breasts. “I wanted to try it and see for myself.” 

This feels good. This feels like the time before you got older and greedy. And the feeling is validated when Jungkook whisks his eyes back at you and grapples your tits, squeezing them so hard that it’s you who bites their bottom lip until you nearly draw blood, your body set on fire with a blue desire that kisses his big hands with such roughness that he whimpers. 

But the moment is ruined all too soon. 

A myriad of high-pitched voices is carried through the thick air, accompanied by giggles. You gasp, looking behind you, and before you know it, you’re up on your feet and Jungkook’s unopened boba is knocked to the side, now rolling sideways towards the mirror. 

You go to fetch it, but a strong hand on your arm prevents you from doing so. You spring back to your place in front of him and you glance up at him in confusion just to see him frowning down at you. 

Sweat drips down his temple. The tips of his brows almost meet in the middle, but swim away and relax at the sight of your puzzlement. The voices grow louder, your breath hitches in your throat and Jungkook’s hand lifts and pets down the back of your head, awakening the butterflies in your tummy as if he’s done it for the first time in your life. 

A yearning to kiss him consumes you. 

“Stay here,” Jungkook murmurs, keeping his hand wrapped around the back of your neck. “If they see us like this, they’ll walk away.” 

You nod, understanding if you were to do as you wished, the girls would’ve taken it as a sign to enter the room and perhaps mingle. But if they see you stuck in an intimate moment like this, they quietly and quickly leave without any unnecessary fuss. 

Smart man. 

“I’m also so fucking hard that I can’t even hide it,” he continues, lowering his tone even more. It penetrates you, making your clit thrum, and as your grin blossoms, so does a romantic shade of blush across your cheeks. You envelop your arms around his torso, propping your chin on his chest, radiate your love up to him, and Jungkook smiles down at you. “As per usual.” 

He kisses your forehead, lingering there for a beat longer before he lifts his head and focuses his gaze at the situation at the door. You don’t care much because you dwell on the hot and cold sensation he left in his wake from the warmth of his mouth and the iciness of his lip ring—something you’ll never get used to and something that will always ruin your panties. 

“They’re gone.” 

And so is he. Off to shut the door and lock it, peeking through the little rectangular window to check if anyone is around. Once the coast is clear, you sense him behind you as you bend to pick up his knocked off boba and you stumble upon his gaze in the mirror as soon as you straighten your spine. 

A hungry look is wrung into his features. 

The corners of his eyes droop in arousal, narrowed as they are. His pupils are blacker than the tapioca in your hands. His teeth nibble on his bottom lip impatiently and you flutter all over, taking in his state and his large stature towering above you. You could melt into him and never be found again, hidden in the crevices of his body that you still believe are there for you. Hidden forever, safe and sound. 

He’s delicious through and through—and it’s been five days since you last had a taste of him. 

Five torturous days. 

“You must be thirsty after all that dancing,” you say, breathless and thirsty yourself. His chest heaves, colliding into your back, and all those soft crevices of him touching you brings you back into that ravenous, greedy state you can’t get out of so easily. Dangerous, he is. Utterly, utterly dangerous. Erasing your clean streak like that. “Let me open it for you.” 

You go to turn around and fetch his straw from your purse, but he doesn’t let you. He encages you where you are by a mere placement of his hand on your hip, fingers back to gripping the fabric of your skirt. He can rip it off if he likes—he can buy you a new one and make your heart elated anytime. 

The idea hardens your nipples, making a show for him all over again. 

He pushes you flush against him, earning a sultry gasp from you. The fingers that gripped your skirt elongate across your mound while the other graze your chin, elevating it a little, ensuring a strong eye contact. 

You flutter. Can’t take it anymore. He has to take you home and fuck the shit out of you before you— 

“I am thirsty,” he purrs, his lips borderline touching yours. “But for something other than bubble tea. Care to guess what it is?” 

Your breath lodges in your throat. You know well what he means, but out of habit and out of personal pleasure you pretend to be dumb. You want to hear him say it—you want him to be as detailed as he was during those naughty afternoon phone calls that got him in trouble with his boss, who told him off for having long work breaks. You want him, his filthy mouth and even filthier, condescending manners. 

You want the old times—and for the sake of your desire, you remain silent. Twist your brows in feigned confusion. Widen your eyes a little. Puff out your cheeks. 

Your adorableness makes him twitch against your hip. Jungkook sucks in a breath. Takes the hand that caressed your chin and glides it down your neck, your chest, your stomach that flexes under his touch until he winds up at the waistband of your skirt. There he stops and he tilts his head to the side, sweeping his tongue along the pillow of his bottom lip. 

“What I want,” he starts, his breathing quickening. “Is the little juice that is in here.” He skims the pads of his fingers down your mound, beneath the hem of your skirt and along the sopping surface of your clothed feminine flesh. You mewl, your hips instinctively riding his fingers, following the sailing, back and forth motion. Your adorableness deepens with the influence of the sudden pleasure by the way it scrunches up your features and Jungkook whimpers again, stopping his motions when he feels you timidly soak his fingers. “I want it so bad that I can’t go one more minute without it.” 

You glance down more to see how big of a mess you’re making on his hand, but as attuned as he is to his role, brought about by his arousal, Jungkook takes your breath away with his following actions. 

He moves you closer to the mirror. Bunches up your skirt even higher so you have a perfect view of your panties, which have a large wet spot in the middle. Little rivulets of your juices flow out of their confines and down your inner thighs, proceeding to make a puddle on the hardwood floors beneath your feet. Jungkook’s fingers are shiny in the light, coated in your lustfulness, and he drifts them up and down that stain—over your swollen clit and sensitive lips. 

“See? Here. This little wet princess part of you is what I crave.”

And just like that, owing to his words, you flourish into the little girl you haven’t been safely dwelling in for months, sliding into that role as easily, tenderly and meekly as if you were slipping your feet into your fluffy slippers. You regress, beautifully, making sweet little noises into his neck as you go to hide in there, poking his drink into his hand, silently telling him to take it while you rub your sticky thighs together, eager to get the uncomfortable throbbing feeling away. And he does, solid in his own caretaker role, sinking down onto his knees, placing the drink on the floor against the mirror. But he remains there, looking up at you, eyes big and round, yet still steady, sure, mature and irrevocably dependable. And you sense those eyes to be telling you to take your panties off and give the Daddy what he craves. 

You hook your thumbs under the waistband of your underwear and drag it down past the middle of your thighs, letting him handle the rest, but you catch his eyes watering ever so gently—and the discovery causes your heart to skip a beat. He’s taken in the role you’ve slipped into, having watched it happen in real time in all its glory, and perhaps he’s nostalgic, or perhaps he’s just euphoric, but he takes the time to bask in it all. 

And he kisses the cotton fabric of your panties first before he kisses the soft flesh of your thigh. Drags it down. Lets it pool in his hands at your ankles. Peeks up at you. 

“The way you willingly give yourself over to me never fails to mesmerize me,” he purrs, pressing another kiss to your thigh without taking his eyes off of you. Your stomach jumps, energy-charged butterflies scurrying to the front of your stomach in longing to kiss him, too. “You’ve been feeling bad about being needy for me. Worked hard for weeks to be a good girl, but what you don’t know, princess, is that you were a good girl even when you called me up at work asking for me,” he continues, lips brushing against your skin with every pronounced vowel. He edges around your knee and begins to pepper gentle, wet kisses there. Your mouth falls open—and you discover this place is a spot of more sensitivity than your neck. You double over, grabbing a tight hold of his tousled, yet soft hair, and Jungkook moans against you. “And you’re a good girl right now for giving yourself over to me, even when you’re so careful about being horny for me in public.” 

Your body forces out the same kind of noises, so tender and pained, your heart rapidly kicking against your ribcage. Your arousal is heightened by his words carrying such devastating praise, even when the most inert core of you aches for such different debauchery—the very opposite of what he’s giving you. 

You leak for him, nonetheless. 

Unable to take it anymore, Jungkook cradles your ankles and carefully rids you of your ruined panties, half-stuffing them into the front pocket of his jeans. A tiny bit of the pink fabric sticks out of it and the sight intoxicates you, pulling you deeper into your little space. Even more so when he finishes his praise because he wasn’t done yet. Not quite. 

“And to see you be little for me so prettily again after such a long time,” he husks, spreading your legs far apart enough to see that gleaming rivulet make its way down the inner of your thigh. “That makes me the happiest man in the world, princess. I missed you. God, I missed you.” 

Jungkook leans in and, with his tongue flat against your inner thigh, he collects the little juice you leak for him. He moans at the taste, but the sound is broken by a cry marked by yearning for more. He doesn’t stop there—he delves immediately, without sparing a second, into your lap with such a verve that your back crashes against the still fogged up mirror. His mouth seizes your clit, making kissing sounds as he laps and sucks at it with a hunger that could never be replicated in the arts. You grip his hair tighter for support, almost sliding down the mirror while struggling to contain your noises, the pleasure permeating every inch of your body that is ultimately submitted to him. The pressure of the delight he’s giving you deepens when he places one of your thighs on his shoulder, helping you take it while he continues to moan into your pussy and eat her like she deserves. 

But you can’t take it. Not at all. Not when he begins to flick his tongue on your clit in a way that he does. 

Your foot slips, but Jungkook is in control. He makes sure you land on your bum safely and painlessly, not once ripping his mouth off your cunt. His eyes continue to be steady, fixed on you, narrowed into such thin, alluring slits that it hastens your sweet release. You hiccup as you take little breaths, overwhelmed by it all. Your cheeks burn, and the fire spreads down your limbs, leaping over to your boyfriend at work, who glows with a rosy tint. Jungkook pulls away a little bit, dripping in arousal and perspiration, and he allows you to see his technique in all its glory. 

The tip of his tongue stimulates your engorged clit with rapid, hard flicks. 

Your orgasm inches closer and closer. Jungkook pushes your legs all the way back until you’re a squished mochi that he can’t get enough of, and when he puts a bigger pressure on your little bud, it is your absolute undoing. 

Closer and closer, the orgasm takes over you completely. From the top of your head to your little toes that flex in your sneakers, you begin to shake uncontrollably as the highest level of the delight bursts upon your body. Jungkook’s noises grow in volume simultaneously, enraptured as he is by the view of his created paradise unfolding over you—and he never stops looking at you. 

Not even as you come down from your high. 

Not even as he, with your little juice dripping down his chin, turns you around and stacks one of your feet on the mirror while he keeps the other leg back with his hand. His limbs surround you, and as you blink through the blinding fog of your orgasm, you realize that you accidentally managed to match your shoes with his. High Nike dunks, black. The ones he got for you as well when he bought a pair for himself. 

Your hole clenches in the mirror. A stream of your little juice makes a larger puddle on the floor beneath you. 

“Look at you dripping for me, fuck.” 

Hooking your leg over his right limb, he strums your entire feminine flesh with the four of his fingers, the squelching and squeaking sounds of your pussy pulling a tortured groan out of him as if he hadn’t gotten a taste of you a mere minute ago. His other hand sneaks to your tits to feel them up, stopping at your pebbled nipple, which he fondles as he breathes against you, inhaling your scent. Your hips buckle, your drenched seashell sensitive from his feast, and Jungkook lets out a pleased chuckle. 

“My pretty little pussy. Always so sensitive from all my love, huh?” 

You nod, meeting his gaze in the mirror, and Jungkook grins before he places a fat, rewarding kiss to your cheek, the two of his fingers, middle and ring, one of them adorned with that white Miffy plastic ring, starting a series of circles on your clit. 

Your hips buckle again, the pleasure soft yet dizzying, overwhelming your senses. Jungkook tightens his grip around you, squeezing your breast. 

“Whose pussy is this, princess?” 

In the middle of it all, a light bulb flicks to life once again in your woozy mind. And a pleased smile, just like his, begins to grow on your mouth. But Jungkook is impatient and you’re not responding fast enough for his taste, so he lifts his soaked fingers and uses them to grip your mouth. 

There it is. 

“I asked you a question. Whose pussy is this?” 

You’d bite your lip if he weren’t squishing your cheeks together, but your satisfied smile reaches your eyes, crinkling them. That causes him to relax his hold and give you a chance to give him the answer he seeks. 

Little does he know you’re about to manipulate him into giving you the sin that you desire. 

“This slutty little pussy is yours. Yours and no one else’s, Dada.” 

His brows twitch and light unrolls across his face, softening his features in a way you’ve never seen before. He curses, momentarily rolls his eyes back, and he plunges his wet fingers into his mouth before he seizes your mouth in a compulsive kiss that thoroughly shuts off your brain. You taste yourself on his tongue, and you comprehend he licked off his fingers and didn’t swallow only so you could get the treat he had himself—because he busies his fingers by burying them inside your fleshy heat. 

And he fucks you hard and doesn’t stop even when you begin to make intense little noises into his mouth. 

You struggle to kiss him back when he curls his fingers and pistons into you with rapid jerks from this angle. His other hand tugs your top upwards, finds its way into the cups of your bra just so he could pinch and rub your nipple in the way that you like. And when his tongue flicks against yours and his mouth purses softly against yours before he deepens the kiss, your orgasm hits you so unexpectedly that you’re as surprised as him once you come apart all over not just his hand, but the mirror, too. 

You splatter it with your little juice and even then, Jungkook doesn’t stop. Growling with heavy breaths, he strums your clit as fast as he can until there’s nothing left you can give to him. 

You slump against him, high on the complexity of yours and his aphrodisiac love. Specks of your glitter—your small shooting stars gravitate down to your flushed cheeks, and then his fingers are in your mouth, traveling far down and deep until you grace him with the sound he likes. You gag around them and he nods, pleased, smirking. 

“Good girl. Your slutty little juice tastes good, doesn’t it, baby?” he asks, and your stomach springs, your drunken feelings intensified by the fact you finally got what you yearned for. “Your mouth makes me fucking crazy. Dada, slutty pussy. I’m gonna lose my mind.” 

You mewl, your eyes heavy, but you want more—you want his cock, and he can feel it, he knows it. He knows it when he pulls out his fingers and kisses you as if the world was meant to end in the next minute. He knows it because he withdraws and he tells you. 

“Dada’s gonna fuck that slutty little pussy of his, hm?” Jungkook murmurs, and then his zipper is down, and just like the old times—he doesn’t rid himself of his clothes and gives you a brand new world with his strokes just the way he is. 

Fully clothed, with his hard drooling cock poking out of his unzipped jeans. 

He presses you against your wet juices on the mirror, spitting on his hand and lubricating the tip of his manhood. He enters you and you gasp, fogging up the mirror with your breath, and the hand that holds your head steady against the mirror buries into your hair while the other wraps around your hip. He sheathes himself inside you slowly whilst your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of finally being stretched out by him and once he bottoms out, it’s over. 

Your life is over.

“Dada’s pussy always so tight.” 

He pounds into you religiously—creating a new order for this brand new world. Hard, merciless strokes that scramble your brain and turn it into a mush. Your ass ripples with each collision and his noises melt into yours, a hymn for the utopia he’s fucking you into. And then he’s lifting you from the mirror and keeping you flush to himself, staring at you in the reflection while your tits spill out from your bra, bouncing, and Jungkook can’t get enough. Both of his hands drag down your straps, freeing your breasts, and he’s groping them, pinching your nipples without ever stopping the entrancing snapping of his hips. 

“Pretty princess getting fucked. Look at you. So pretty and all mine.” 

And then his Miffy-adorned finger is back on your clit, rubbing hard circles, and your personal world is finished—because your pleasure is his ultimate undoing. 

The smacking of skin quietens and his hips begin to roll—a languid, staccato version of his choreo that got you all needy and wet but an hour ago. Jungkook whimpers into your ear how much he loves you, over and over again, as he stuffs you full of his cum, and he doesn’t stop rubbing your swollen little clit until you come all over his twitching cock. 

And he doesn’t pull away. 

He holds you like this, panting into your neck, his grip still tight, still evoking a sense of safety you won’t find anywhere else. Your drowsy eyelids flit, consider yourself well-spent, and the thought begins to sing a celebratory song in your chest—because all that hard work paid off. 

You’re no longer greedy; you’re gratified after the first round. 

Jungkook kisses the nape of your neck. “We should go before Bunny and Vinny start wondering where we are.” 

The song wraps around your heart, which dissolves at his words. Jungkook pulls himself out of you, but you swivel around and throw your arms around him, catching him off guard. His still erect and wet length brushes against your thigh—and the contact makes you quiver in his arms.

“I feel good,” you explain into his ear. “I don’t need more.” 

Jungkook chuckles. Wants to look at your face and he smooths your hair back, grinning at you. “I’m proud of you, princess, but look,” he says, glancing down. You follow his gaze down and perceive he’s talking about his private parts. “I’m still hard.” 

His cock twitches at his words and twitches once more at the sound of your giggles—happy, happy giggles because the stigma behind your neediness withers and completely disappears, never to be found again, only because Jungkook isn’t embarrassed or afraid to show you he needs more. Your chest becomes light, light enough that you think you grew a pair of wings to fly around the room with.

“Gym, Gguk. You have to hit the gym more often,” you joke, knowing his work out schedule transcends beyond the five days you spend at the place. 

The corner of his mouth curls as mischief twinkles in his eyes, divulging to you that he likes the way you challenge him. 

“Oh yeah?” he questions, lifting his arm, pulling back the oversized sleeve of his T-shirt to flex his biceps. Your cheeks heat up at the strong mountains that appear and your hand can’t help but to knead it. “These aren’t big enough for you, huh?” 

You scoff and shush him at the same time, leaning over to plant a singular kiss to his muscles. Jungkook uses the opportunity to hide you in his embrace and you both sputter into laughs and giggles. He pecks your hair, but something interrupts your sweet moment. 

“Look at the mess you made,” he says, pointing at the mirror, and you gasp when you turn around. 

An imprint of the side of your face is left behind on the reflection. Foundation, mascara and glitter amidst the little pearls and rivulets of your juices. You worry what you look like now if your make-up is smeared to this extent, but it soon is washed away from your mind when Jungkook crawls forward and makes a heart on the wetness of your slick. 

He takes a picture of it and then he cleans it off with his gym towel. The floor, too. 

At home, you fuck him hard for it. 

With his Taro boba in his arm, Vinny on his chest and Bunny in the crook of his other arm, you ride him until your thighs burn and he resembles the prettiest rose you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Having come more than enough on his cock, you jerk him off while you flick your tongue on his tip, and he moans, flushes and convulses until he spills all over your hand and his stomach. Ropes of him cum reach the plushies, too, as he can’t stop coming and, growing feignedly jealous, you swallow him, longing for him to drip down your throat. 

He comes so much that your belly is full and he’s as gratified as you were in the practice room. 

And after a quick shower, you both drift off to your brand new world unexpectedly, the events of the day having exhausted you enough that you fall asleep within the next heartbeat. Vinny and Bunny tumble on in the washing machine while you and Jungkook dance in the new paradise, having stepped into the role of parents having a date without the kids. No stress, no stigma—just the freedom of being loved right. 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved

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[nochepsicodelica]

"Morning, doll," Toji greets, placing a kiss on the back of your head before scooting past you to grab a glass of water. He stops in his tracks, taking a second look at you as you stuff a random document back in its envelope. Your outfit looks very familiar.

"Hi, baby. Was just about to head to-- What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Toji comes closer, until he's standing right in front of you. He pulls on the taut, yet, stretchy material of your shirt and watches it snap right back into place, snug against your chest. Then, he tugs on the waistband of your light grey sweatpants, to see how neatly the hem of your shirt is tucked into them. There's no outline of the shirt on your thighs and when he walks behind you and takes a look at the back, there's no outline of the shirt on the butt part, either. He whistles, looking you up and down, absorbing the entirety of the sight you offer.

"You're dressed like me, pretty girl. Tell me you're gonna wear your black shoes."

"I'm gonna wear my black shoes."

"Oh fuuuck. You trying to kill me?" You smile when he comes up behind you, again, lingering, this time. His arms encircle your waist and his chin rests on your shoulder. "Where were you planning on going, without me, dressed like this?"

You laugh. "It's not like i'm going out in lingerie or something fancy looking. Nobody's gonna be giving me googly eyes. This is comfy clothing, 'cause i'm going to the store, not some formal event."

"Well, i'm giving you all types of googly eyes, right now, so you can't go." He emphasizes this by tightening his arms around you, his hold unbreakable, now.

"Baby," you groan.

"Ahh, too bad. You can't go, yet, and you can't go without me. Someone might snatch you up like a damn seagull." He grins at the deflated look on your face. "Mmm... look at that pout. You want a little kiss?" You huff, and turn your face away from Toji, luring a deep chuckle from him. "Ooh, you're so grumpy. You want a big kiss, huh?" You feel his head lift off your shoulder to peek at you on the other side, but again, you huff and turn your head in the other direction. He clicks his tongue at your stubbornness, an amused smirk adorning his face, regardless of your games.

This continues a couple more times, before finally, he wins. He shifts his strong hold around your waist to one arm and brings his free hand up to cup your jaw, so he can look at you without worrying about you turning your head, again.

"Feisty girl, I got you, now," he says, watching the smile unfolding on your face. Your giggles are music to his ears.

"That's not fair," you say, your voice strained as you try and fail to turn away from him, again.

"Yeah? Just like how it's not fair that you look better than me in my own outfit." Toji scoffs, releasing your jaw and returning his arm to it's previous position, around your waist. "I've been wearing that combination for years. This is the first time I see it on you and you have me sweating."

"Okay!" You laugh. "I'll go change my shirt or my pants. Just let me go to the store, please. Please!" You cry out, exaggeratedly.

"Nah, nah, no need to be so dramatic," Toji says, smirking when he feels your body trembling against him as you laugh. "It's too late for you to go change. You were just about to leave dressed like this, no?"

"Um... yeah, and then you said no. So, I have to plead my case, somehow. Can I try again?" You ask, giddily.

He sighs, heavily, like it'll kill him to give you another shot. "Sure, but who knows if i'll change my mind?"

"You love when I beg for things, don't you?"

"Absolutely, not. Well..." he hums.

"Ah, shut up," you say, pinching his arm. "Not like that you... you."

"See, now you're being mean, and that's not gonna help your case, at all."

"Wait, wait! I'm sorry. Look," you say, lifting his arm up to your lips with both of your hands and kissing the spot you pinched. "See? I'm sorry."

He takes half a step back, allowing you to turn and look at him.

"Say it to my face."

"I'm sorry," you say, quick and simple.

"Do it the right way."

"I'm sorry," you repeat, slower, this time.

"You must really not need to go to the store that bad. That's not right, either."

You can tell he's loving this, he's got that stupid smug grin on his face. He loves seeing you get it wrong knowing there's no right answer, because you feed into it and you get all frustrated. It's a rigged game.

"Baby! What do you want me to say? I said I was sorry, already."

"I don't know, doll. I don't think I should have to teach you how to apologize properly."

You sigh, and keep trying. "Do you want a hug?"

"Do I?" He asks, pushing you to keep going.

"Or a... a kiss? Lots of kisses?"

"Hm... do I want lots of kisses?" He asks himself, looking contemplative for a second. He never gives you an answer, and just goes back to waiting for you to get it right. You're starting to look like a kicked puppy, your pout returning as you think of what else you can offer him as an apology. You pull out one last card. If this isn't it, then you forfeit.

"Do you want my body?"

Toji sees your light flicker. It's not disappointment, but more like you're hoping something isn't true. Like you don't agree with what you just said. You've never been good at hiding your feelings. If you're happy or excited, you have this enormous, gorgeous smile on your face and your eyes shimmer like moonlight on the sea. If you're sad or feeling emotional, you don't like being seen. You turn away, hide your face in your hands, put your hood on—anything to hide your vulnerability. This, though, is just wrong. It's something he's never seen on you before and he doesn't want to keep seeing it.

"No. Not like that. Never like that. Fuck, doll. Jokes over, come here. I'll take that hug, now."

He envelops you in his arms. It's a tight embrace that brings you comfort through the love and warmth that radiates from it. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, and caresses the back of it with one hand, while the other one rests on your back.

"You don't ever have to use your body as a way to make me feel better, or like you were implying before, as an apology. You hear me?"

You hum, affirmatively. "Yeah, I know, baby," you mumble, squeezing his side, to signal that you're okay and that your mood isn't drained.

"If we ever get into an actual fight—and that's not me saying we will—but if it ever happens, we're gonna talk it out properly, like the adults we are. No sex until things are fixed and we're on good terms, because I love the fuck out of you, doll. Shit doesn't feel right when you don't talk to me. Okay?"

"Okay. I love you, too, Toji," you respond.

He releases a soft breath through his nose and presses another kiss to the top of your head.

"You fucking inspire me, ma. I just... had to make that clear. There's no way i'd ever let you feel that way with me."

"I understand, baby," you assure, rubbing his back, to return the comfort.

"Okay, good. Now that we've tackled that, I guesss we can go to the store. You still wanna go, right?"

"Yeah, but can we go later?" You ask, lifting your head to look at him. "I just wanna lay in bed with you for a little while." You give him your most charming smile, despite the fact that it borders on looking sheepish, because you were the one who wanted to go to the store so badly, and now you're trying to delay the trip. "Please? Oh god, please! Pretty pleaaaase? For the love of all things good, baby, pleaseeee!" You cry out, exaggeratedly, like before.

"Oh my god..." Toji mutters, under his breath, utterly stunned by your acting. "You are literally the most dramatic thing ever. You know that?" He takes in the proud nod you offer and the confident "mhm!", with a dumb grin. "We can go back to bed, but only if those kisses you offered earlier are still valid."

"They are! I'll give you so many kisses," you explain, nodding with widened eyes, because you want him to believe you.

"Alright, alright. Give me one now, as proof. A big, juicy, wet kiss, right on my mouth."

You stand on your tippy toes and he meets you the rest of the way for what you intended to be a warm smooch, but instead turned out to be a feverish lip lock that made your insides feel like melted marshmallows. As always, one kiss is not enough. Toji saying he wants a single kiss is a trap. You know this already, and yet you walk into it every. single. time. His arms become vines that wrap around you and hold you steady while he indulges in as much of your sweet lips as he wants, or until you break into a giggle fit.

What broke you this time was the feeling of his tongue gliding over your lips, before he went back to sloppily kissing you. It was definitely the juicy wet kiss he asked for and eventually you had to pull away because you couldn't even try to kiss him back without laughing.

Your hand goes to his chest to keep some distance and for a solid minute or so, you can't look at him without cracking up.

"Alright," he says, a low rumble of a chuckle vibrating against your hand. "Let's go back to bed. Gimme all those kisses." He bends down slightly and scoops you up, waiting for you to wrap around him like a koala so he can start heading towards the room. "You look really fucking good in my clothes, ma. I'm gonna shamelessly ogle you all day. Even in public."

You smile against his neck and roll your eyes. "Yeah... remind me to never wear this combination again."

"Nah."

[yeosatinyngz]

(rules anon) I was just wondering if you could do something similar to your forgot your bday ask u got? but they forgot your anniversary bc they were hanging out with the Mc? hurt and comfort or hurt and no comfort whatever you decide (but u totes don't have to do this tho if it makes you uncomfortable!)

I apologize for the delay, I was bombarded with school work and studying but I’m finally done with the semester and have the time to write your request, hope you like it! <3

THEY FORGET YOUR ANNIVERSARY

↳Fem! Non MC Reader | Angst w/ comfort | NOT PROOFREAD

Lies were the very thing you were feeding yourself with when you heard no response from your partner, cause surely there was no way he had forgotten the anniversary of when you both got together.

You sent out your usual good morning text to him but many hours have passed by to the point where the sun was currently setting. You had your message chat with him opened, staring at it hoping it will somehow lead to him miraculously messaging you back. But to no avail, your text remained unanswered.

You release a deep sigh and close your phone. You needed to distract your mind off of your current situation so you decided to go outside for a walk to clear your head. You were enjoying the breeze until you heard a familiar laugh, the laugh that belonged to your beloved. 

You turned around to see him walking alongside his colleague, mc. They looked so happy and perfect together, as if they were destined to be together. Oh, you thought to yourself while your heart shattered into a million pieces. You couldn’t bear to witness the scene before you anymore so you quickly left.

You made it back home and slammed the door shut. That’s when everything you held back in you just came falling apart. Your body trembled as your legs gave out on you, you landed on the floor with a thud as the tears started to roll down your eyes. You don’t even know how long you were crying until the door opened with the very man you were despairing over. 

“Honey I’m home-” That’s when he realized the current state you were in, he quickly rushed over to check up on you, “What’s wrong my love?” He asks so softly while his hand reaches out to attempt to wipe away your tears. You were quick to smack his hand away and turned your head away from him. 

Shakily letting out a breath of air, you turn back to look him straight into his eyes with fury, firmly declaring, “Let’s break up.” His eyes immediately widened as he frantically grabbed your hands. “Please don’t say that, at least tell me why.” He looked at you with those dangerous puppy dog eyes of his that were brimming with tears.

You scoffed and yanked your hands away from his, “Isn’t forgetting our anniversary and hanging out with another girl reason enough?” He goes quiet and you can’t help but let out a bitter laugh, “You got your reason, now leave.” 

You couldn’t stand the sight of him anymore and you were ready to get up but he pulled you down towards him, tightly wrapping you into his embrace. “Hey! What are you doing?! Let go of me!” You protest as you squirm in his arms. “Please,” He lets out weakly, “Just listen to me.” 

Seeing that you weren’t protesting anymore, Xavier continued on, “While I have no excuse for forgetting our anniversary, I was only with mc because we were assigned a mission together and were just catching up afterwards.” “You looked a little too happy, you were giggling with her and all”  you huffed. “She was teasing me about you and saying how cute we were together. You should know that I have eyes on no one else but you.”

“And yet you forgot our anniversary.” “...There’s no arguing that, I’m sorry.” He truly looked so sad and his signature puppy dog eyes were back and working its magic on you, “Please let me make it up to you.” You sigh, giving in to his pouty state, “Alright” He immediately brightened from this word alone “But you will have to do your best because you are still not forgiven.” “I promise!”

He kept his promise as he surprised you the very next day with a beautiful arrangement of flowers (that he harassed Jeremiah to help him with over night, poor dude does not get paid enough), spoiling you with all of your favorite food (he wanted to cook and bake everything himself but we all know why he decided to order delivery instead), gifting you a matching set of necklace (His had your initial while yours had an X), and of course caring to all your needs.

You decided to go visit Rafayel instead of just waiting around for a response that you won’t be getting anytime soon. However, once you got to his studio you came to realize that he wasn’t home either. Strange, you thought to yourself. Where could he be at this time? 

The only person that could possibly know your boyfriend’s whereabouts was Thomas so you went ahead and gave him a call. To your luck, he was quick to pick up, “Sorry to bother you Thomas but do you happen to know where Rafayel is?” “I’m not exactly sure where he is right now but I remember mc saying she was going to pick him up.” “Oh…thanks for letting me know.” “Yeah no problem.” He says while you quickly say bye to him and hang up the call.

It took everything in you to not lose your mind right now. The grip you had on your phone was so intense it probably wasn’t far from being broken into pieces. You tried calming yourself down and decided to settle on his couch for the meanwhile. You were going to wait until he came back.

It felt like an eternity waiting for Rafayel to come back, your mind kept spiraling the more the seconds passed by and you just needed him to hurry up so you could confront him and get it over with. 

As if your prayers were heard, the door to the studio door opened and in walked your beautiful boyfriend, well soon to be ex boyfriend accompanied with his bodyguard. His eyes were quick to find your figure sitting on your coach and he jumped back in surprise, “Oh you scared me, what are you doing here cutie?” 

That’s when he noticed the nasty glare you were giving him and your arms crossed over each other. He mentally panics, Uh oh, I fucked up. “Oh you should be scared, Rafayel.” He felt chills go down his spine from your cold words. That’s when mc awkwardly coughs and speaks up, “Uh I think I’ll excuse myself” before she quickly dashed out the door leaving you two in awkward silence. 

Rafayel was quick to rush to your side, dramatically dropping down to his knees and planting his face into your lap. He lifts his chin up and looks up at you while begging for forgiveness, “Please forgive me cutie, you can do whatever you want with me just please don’t be mad anymore.” 

His eyes were filled with despair as he waited anxiously for your response, his pout deepening the longer you delayed your response. “I’ll let you guess what you did wrong.” His brain freezes as he tries to come up with all the possibilities. You grabbed his chin to force him to look into your eyes, “You forgot our anniversary and chose to go out with that bodyguard of yours.” 

He mentally curses himself, “I’m sorry cutie, I’ve been working on this piece for the past week nonstop and got the dates mixed up, I swear it wasn’t on purpose. The reason I was out with Miss bodyguard is because I was getting some materials to finish up my piece.” 

Without even waiting for your response he got up and dragged you along with him to unveil the canvas that was hidden underneath a cloth. You could tell that it was unfinished but it was no doubt that what he painted was you. You unconsciously let out a gasp because you couldn’t believe what your eyes were witnessing.

Rafayel has painted you in a way where no one else in this world can ever come close to replicating, he drew your likeness in such an ethereal way that it left you speechless. “I- Is this how you see me?” He nods, “I’m ashamed to show you the unfinished product but this piece doesn’t even come close to showcasing your beauty, you continue to inspire me everyday cutie so I hope you can forgive me.” You threw yourself at him and crushed him into a hug. “You are more than forgiven, I love you so much Raf.” He plants a kiss on your temple, “I love you so much you don’t even know.”

Sighing, you went along with your last resort, calling Greyson. You dislike wasting their precious time when they’re on the clock but you’re sure Greyson can spare you maybe a minute or two compared to Zayne. Your heart drums even faster as the seconds prolonged from him picking up the phone.

Finally you hear Greyson’s voice fill your ear, “What’s up?” “Sorry to bother you Greyson but I just wanted to know how Zayne was doing.” “It’s no bother really, he actually left a while ago.” “Oh is that so?” “Yeah, his last patient today was mc and they left together about maybe forty five minutes ago.” You remained silent as your mind started coming up with different scenarios, you were quickly pulled out of your thoughts by Greyson calling out to you. “Sorry about that, thanks for telling me, have a good night.” “You too.”

Then the call ends, leaving you alone with all your doubtful thoughts. You sat at the couch waiting there for Zayne to come back but as the hours passed you were hopeless. 

You don’t even know what time it was or when you even fell asleep but you awoke to keys jingling and the front door opening. You slowly got up and walked up to him, “How come you’re home so late?” “Sorry about that, mc invited me over for dinner since grandma Josephine wanted to see me.” 

“Well you could’ve told me ahead of time, I wouldn’t have made dinner and waited on your return then” your words came out a little harsher than you wanted and Zayne took notice. You walked over to the dining table to clear out all the food and he followed after you to also help.

That’s when he freezes, in the middle of the table sat a cake with the words ‘Happy Anniversary’ in your handwriting. He looks up at you but you pay him no attention. “You made this cake?” You look back at him with cold eyes, “Yeah but it doesn’t matter anymore, you can toss it out since there’s nothing to celebrate.” You were done putting everything in the fridge and you walked out of the kitchen. “I’ll be heading to bed first, I’m taking the guest bedroom.” 

Before you could take another step Zayne reaches out and grabs your hand, you were too tired for this. You turned around and looked him in his eyes while you pried his hand off yours, “Can we not do this right now? I’m exhausted and don’t want to deal with this.” “Please”, his hazel eyes were swimming with regret as they pleaded with you to listen. You manage to grumble out a “You have five minutes.”

“It was not my intention to forget our special day, I’ve been overwhelmed recently with work and it all messed with my head. I'm truly so sorry and I know empty words won’t do anything for you at this moment but I will make it my duty to make it up to you just please don’t leave me, you’re the only person in this world I can’t bear to lose.” 

You reached up and cupped his face with both of your hands, “I’m not going to leave you, you dummy. I just want you to rely on me and communicate with me more when you’re tired. A relationship consists of two people, let us both carry the same amount of weight. But don’t think you’re off the hook about forgetting our anniversary though, you’re still on thin ice mister.” He lets out a small laugh, “Duly noted.”

You checked in with the twins about Sylus’s schedule in advance and they confirmed that he would be out during the afternoon today. You set out to the N109 Zone, specifically his place so that you could plan out surprising him for your anniversary.

It took you lots of time and effort with putting up all the decorations and manually blowing up the balloons. After everything was done you rested on the couch for a while.

You still have plenty of time till his return so you were currently helping his chef prepare his favorite dishes. You put extra care into making the food since it was a special occasion. You couldn’t wait to surprise Sylus.

It was about time Sylus should be returning so you closed all the lights, hiding behind the couch, itching for the right moment to jump out and surprise the love of your life.

Suddenly, you heard the door open. This was the moment, prepare yourself. The lights turn on and you hear footsteps coming closer to you. You jumped out yelling surprise ready to pop the confetti until you came face to face with Kieran, with Luke behind him.

“Huh, where’s Sylus?” Kieran speaks up, “Boss had another unexpected business meeting so he’ll be back a little later.” “Oh” You sigh dejectedly. They try to cheer you up but you just slumped back onto the couch.

An hour has passed and still no trace of Sylus. At this point you looked so sad that Luke offered to call Sylus to see where he was at. Luke puts his phone on speaker so that you could also hear.

Soon you heard the deep silky voice that belonged to your partner, “What is it?” “I was just wondering when you’ll be home.” “I still haven’t wrapped things up with Miss Hunter yet so it’ll still take a while.” “Oh ok, please try to get home as soon as you can.” “I’ll try.”

Luke nervously looks at you after he ends the call. You laughed and a chill ran down both the twin’s back. “Miss, are you ok?” Kieran asks. Catching your breath after you laughed you responded, “How can I be ok after finding out the man I love forgot our anniversary and is out with this girl he frequently has business meetings with.”

You abruptly got up and went to gather your things with you. “W- where are you going?” Luke shakily asks. “I’m going home and neither of you guys are stopping me.” “Please reconsider!” Kieran pleaded, you threw him a death glare and walked towards the door, proceeding to open it and slam it on your way out. You felt bad for getting angry at the twins but your emotions got the better of you.

Sylus just got back and as soon as he opened the door he was welcomed with the sight of the twins panicking and shouting at him. “Boss, why didn’t you pick up your phone? We were calling you for so long, this is an emergency!!” “My phone died.” “You’re in big trouble boss.” “Huh?” Obviously confused by the commotion the twins pushed him to the living room.

He took in the sight and noticed the ‘Happy Anniversary’ banner. That’s when his heart drops, oh he messed up real bad. He wanted to beat himself but there were more pressing matters. “Either one of you give me your phone.” Once a phone was handed to him he quickly went to find your contact and called you.

However, it’s been the tenth time he’s calling you and you still haven’t picked up. As he was giving up you finally picked up, “Ugh would you quit spam calling me Kieran?” “Sweetie, I'm so sorry.” “Oh it’s you, I’m hanging up.” you said coldly. “Wait-” You wasted no time in ending the call. You were also quick to block Sylus and the twin’s numbers.

You were tired after everything that happened today so you drifted off to sleep. You don’t know how long you were sleeping but you woke up to a loud crash, jolting you up in your bed. You looked around to check the source of the noise and noticed that your balcony door was broken, the glass pieces shattered around your floor.

Then you feel a gush of wind as a familiar black and dark red mist surrounds you tightening you into a hold. You looked up and found yourself staring into a pair of shining scarlet eyes. “Let me go you psycho!” “Not until you listen to me.” You roll your eyes, “Not like you gave me any other option.”

He chuckles while walking towards you. Stopping when he’s directly in front of you. “I’m here to beg you for forgiveness, I’m sorry for neglecting you on our special day. I’ll do anything for your forgiveness, hell I’ll even grovel.” The gleam in your eyes doesn’t go unnoticed. Needless to say, Sylus did his part and earned your forgiveness.

[nottswitch]

— if you’ve been nice, you get…

─────────────── 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐲 & 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭. ─

summary: during your trip to hogsmeade, you decide to pop into the famous honeydukes for some sweets. who would’ve guessed that your best friend would find the sight of you with a lollipop so enticing?

pairing: bsf!fred weasley x reader

cw: 18+ smut, friendship without boundaries, oral (m receiving), semi-public sex, praise, slight gagging, candy play, cursing

wc: 1.5k

a/n: for all my fred lovers out here!! let us all indulge in some sweetness <3 and dick

⟡ navigation ; m.lists ; fred m.list ; kinkmas 2024

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The atmosphere inside of Honeydukes was everything you could expect from this time of year – despite it only being the beginning of December, the students already started feeling the holiday spirit. The shop was filled to the brim with what felt like the entire Hogwarts, from rowdy squealing first-years to the seventh-years who still had a soft spot for sweets despite pretending to be too cool for that. Hogsmeade residents groaned and huffed, trying to squeeze between the buzzing bodies, irritated beyond belief about Hogwarts students flooding the village once again.

You were standing next to the shelf filled with different lollipops, absently browsing, because you already had one in your mouth – a long green stick flavored apple and cinnamon, just right for the Christmas atmosphere filling the space around you. Your mind was drifting, and you didn’t even notice someone approach before a pair of strong, long arms wrapped around your shoulders from behind, encircling your entire form.

“Merlin!” you exclaimed, immediately knowing who that was – you could almost feel the cheeky grin against the back of your head.

“Just Fred would do.”

His voice was just as cheeky as his smile when he pulled away a bit, easily turning you around to face him. You were ready to retort with a snarky remark, as you usually would, but something stopped you, something that was as familiar as it was unexpected – the look in Fred’s eyes. The way they weren’t looking into yours at all. The way they were fixed firmly on your lips, currently wrapped around the tip of the green lollipop.

“Mhm,” you hummed to yourself, tilting your head to the side a bit as you took in the situation. You felt like you could read your best friend’s thoughts in real time, as if they were being broadcasted in a running line right across his face. And you didn’t mind the implication. Not at all.

“I see you’re being smart right now,” Fred made a remark, the grin on his face turning into an understanding smirk. He wasn’t shy about his obvious desire, on the contrary, he wanted you to see it. He also knew that you, being a good little friend, wouldn’t say no – you would even encourage it, being the tease that you always were next to him.

You chuckled, deliberately sucking on the lollipop this time, the wet sound of the candy going in and out of your mouth filling the close proximity between your faces.

“You wanted something?” you asked, pretending to be clueless, even though you knew you weren’t going to keep the act up for long – Fred had this effect on you that seemed to mirror your own on him, and his playful yet undeniably hungry gaze was doing wonders to warm up the space between your legs right now.

“Oh, come on, hun.” Fred rolled his eyes, an amused chuckle escaping him. “We both know exactly what I want. And, may I add, what you want as well.”

It was your turn to play annoyed, because he was, of course, as right as always; over the years of friendship as close as the one you shared, he learned to read you like an open book that he didn’t even have to open – it laid exposed right in front of him.

“Where?” was your only question, your eyes briefly darting around the stuffy, crowded room of Honeydukes. Fred followed your gaze, biting the inside of his cheek as he thought of a solution. A moment later, a smirk grazed his lips again as his eyes fell somewhere behind you.

Without another word, he grabbed your hand and started leading you away from the shelves, shamelessly pushing through the endless number of students blocking your way – he was too damn impatient. Your steps stuttered after his long ones, your fingers gripping the lollipop stick so that it wouldn’t fall to the floor – you had plans for the candy, after all.

The tiny space Fred squeezed you into looked like some kind of a utility room, but the lack of space was the last thing on your mind at the moment – not like you’d need much of it anyway. Once the door was locked thanks to him casting a spell, Fred leaned against the wall, looking at you expectantly; as much as he liked enjoying you and your body to the fullest, now was not the place or time. You instantly understood him – and you didn’t protest. Sinking down to your knees, you ran a hand over his thigh, ending up right on the straining bulge between his legs. Fred groaned, his mouth parted as he looked down, catching the sight of your face right next to his already aching cock, your lips wrapped seductively around the lollipop.

“Gonna be a good girl, huh?” he murmured, his voice breathless yet still containing the playfulness that never seemed to leave it even for a moment. “Come on, love.” He gently nudged your head closer to his crotch, and you followed his touch, nuzzling your face against his clothed length, feeling how hard and ready he was, all for you.

Your hand swiftly moved to unzip his trousers, pulling them down along with his boxers just enough to free his member. It sprung free from the confines, immediately staining the hem of Fred’s jumper with precum, which made you chuckle at his eager state. The lollipop left your mouth with a pop, and the hand holding it wrapped around the base of Fred’s cock, holding the candy right next to it. Fred raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting this particular direction, but the words died in his throat when you took him in your mouth, your tongue swirling around his tip and the tip of the lollipop at the same time.

“I knew you were a little freak, love, but this…” He was cut off by his own moan when he felt the pressure of the candy against his dick as both were suddenly shoved into your mouth. “…Shit!”

He had to muffle himself with the sleeve of his jumper, because the way you made him feel threatened to expose you to everyone currently swirling around the Honeydukes shop. You hummed around him, feeling your lips stretch at the corners from the lollipop significantly adding to his thickness. The saltiness of his precum mixed with the sugary sweet taste of candy, creating a completely new yet strangely welcome sensation.

You started bobbing your head up and down, only able to take half of Fred’s cock due to the lollipop being in the way. Fred didn’t seem to mind – the added pressure of the candy seemed to make up for the lack of your usual technique. You pulled away for a moment to drag your tongue from the base to his tip again, slurping up the sticky, sweet and salty liquid that was formed by your saliva. You spat some of it back into his cock and the lollipop, lowering your head once again to continue the job.

“Making a mess of me, huh?” Fred moaned out, glancing down and seeing drool running down your chin, slimy strings dripping down onto the floor underneath you. “Such a good girl, love. Such a good fucking girl.”

His praise encouraged you to increase your pace, your head moving even more enthusiastically. You could feel a generous amount of liquid filling your throat, making you gag a bit as the sweetness of the lollipop tickled your glands, but it didn’t make you stop at all. You knew Fred was close – from your position on your knees, you could see the way his eyes fluttered close every so often, the way his chest heaved deeper and faster than usual. Your tongue swirled around the tips again, your cheeks hollowing out as you sucked them in, creating more friction between the sensitive flesh and the hard, sticky surface of the candy. Fred’s hand gripped your hair without actually moving your head – he just needed something to hold onto.

“Fuck, love,” he raggedly breathed out as his cock ended up pressed between the inside of your cheek and the lollipop once again. “Gonna– F-fuck!”

He didn’t have time to warn you; you felt his length twitch in your mouth as the hotness of his cum hit the back of your throat, mixing with the saliva gathered there and making you gag again. Your lips trembled a bit around him as you swallowed, slowly lapping up the remnants of his release and the significantly thinned out candy. Fred’s head fell back against the wall, and he let out a breathless chuckle, his eyes darting down to your wet, fucked out face.

“Gonna have to get you some more of those, yeah?” he murmured, taking the lollipop out of your mouth and placing it in his, a teasing smirk appearing on his lips. You scoffed in response, giving his thigh a light smack. You knew he liked what had just happened, though, and you didn’t mind giving him another sticky treat.

[lilreidgirl]

So what?

Summary: You and Spencer seem to keep on ending up in the same position, you sitting on his lap. But it doesnt mean anything. Right?

Warnings: MDNI(18+), fem!reader, lap sitting (like a lot), crying implied, smut/sex, getting hard, f-word 3x, doesn’t make much sense tbh, English is not my first language

WC: ~1k

A/N: sorry if this is confusing, I tried my best

If someone asked you what your favourite place on earth is, you’d probably say one of the usual answers like “my bed” or some special place with meaning in its history with you. But what was truly your favourite place to be, was Spencer Reid’s lap.

You were just friends, of course, no meaning behind it.

A BAU game night, organized by the one and only fantastic Penelope Garcia, was where you first ever found yourself in a position you never knew you would come to crave to be in so often. It was an evening filled with laughter, camaraderie, and endless games, all set in the cozy and inviting living room of Rossi’s expansive mansion. The atmosphere was light-hearted and warm while the sound of friendly banter echoed off the walls. The room was packed with a lively mix of BAU team members, the couch and seats occupied by various members of the team and the family and friends they had brought with them.

You arrived last, being greeted by yells and cheers and “hi!’s as soon as you entered the energy-filled room. Your eyes wandered around the room and the different permeated spaces to sit. Unsure of what to do, you settled on just resting in a kneeled down-position on the floor. Your body moved to the side of the coffee table, next to the couch where multiple of your colleagues sat. You started to lower yourself to the floor before a voice stopped you.

“You can just sit on my lap, you know…,” the familiar sweet, musical voice of Spencer Reid spoke, the hesitance and shyness, that he clearly felt, presenting on his face and in his tone. “It’s closer to the table and- um, probably more comfortable, no?” he asked rhetorically. “I really wouldn’t mind. We can play as a team.”

His words were whispered by his god awfully beautiful lips, just loud enough for you to hear clearly but not for the crowd around you to be able to catch what he was saying.

“Oh. Really?” You asked, the fact that it wasn’t the most usual offer from a friend and co-worker making you slightly doubtful if you should accept the suggestion he had made you.

“Yeah.” The space between his eyebrows scrunched together in a sincere way and you just really, really couldn’t turn his helpful gesture down. That would be rude of a friend, no?

You made the journey of a few measly steps that lay between the two of you in a matter of seconds and soon you mindfully and slowly sat down on his lap.

So what?

So what, you felt as if your heart had just beaten out of your throbbing chest and onto the table where the ongoing board game laid?

It didn’t mean anything.

So what, Spencer’s arms wrapped around your waist in a concerningly short fraction of a second, catching you completely off guard, the speed with which he moved almost unnerving, as if he had been anticipating the exact moment to pull you in for as long as he had been able to anticipate anything at all?

It didn’t mean anything.

So what, a month later you sat perched up on his lap, eating the takeout you both ordered, laughing about something you said, your eyes momentarily flicking up to see all the empty chairs surrounding Spencer’s dining table where you could have possibly sat but you somehow ended up on his lap yet again?

It didn’t mean anything.

So what, as you adjusted yourself on his legs, wanting a better view  of pitch perfect playing on the TV (courtesy of you forcing him to watch it) and you felt his body attentively tense and his big, calloused hands grip your hips so tight, you thought he might have been physically touching your hipbone?

It didn’t mean anything.

And it also had no meaning when, you felt a tiny nip on your ear a few moments later, something you wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t had already been hyperaware because of the hard presence of something you had only pictured in your dreams, pressing against your ass.

So what?

And seriously so what, when you showed up at his apartment, your face damp and reddened from the hard day you had endured and without missing a beat, he immediately took your hand, his grip steady and warm, guiding you down gently into his lap as if he already knew exactly what you needed, and then, without a word, he settled back on the couch, pulling you into his chest with a tenderness that somehow made everything feel right again?

It didn’t mean anything.

And so what, you couldn't help but wonder how something so simple could feel so comforting, how his presence alone could soothe all the chaos swirling inside of you, and did it really matter that no words were needed, that his embrace spoke everything you were too tired to say, that just being held like this in the quiet of his living room felt like all the broken pieces of you were slowly starting to fall into place, as if nothing else in the world could possibly matter as much as this moment?

It didn’t mean anything.

So what, movie night every few weeks consistently included you resting your body on his thighs and your head on his shoulder while your warm blanket lay on both of your touching bodies as the TV flickered its light onto the both of you and the secure feeling of the moment made you want to melt into him and the memory of the time forever?

It didn’t mean anything.

So what, you woke up the mornings after movie nights with your body enveloped by his, your feet entangled together, neither of you knowing which of you had the freezing feet and which the warm ones, because the contact between you was enough to get the feeling of burning coursing through your entire bodies?

It didn’t mean anything...

So what, you slung your legs over his thighs, slumping against his body, finally relaxing a bit after an exhausting day that was probably also the best day of your life and he whispered, “You look absolutely gorgeous,” to you?

It didn’t mean anything.

And so fucking what, he then went on to remove your fairy tale-like wedding dress and fuck you into oblivion, as it should be the first time fucking you as your husband and you as his newly-wed wife?

Okay… maybe it did mean something.

[nohoney]

inspired by a text i sent

“we should call out of work together one day, just spend a day fucking.” you suggest to bakugou one day when he returns from work as you’re setting food down at his place on the table. “what do you say?”

bakugou grunts and points out that you and him have sex on the regular, that there’s no need to take time off just to fuck for a whole day. he doesn’t pay your suggestion much mind at first. he works, comes home, spends time with you, and then he rests.

however there comes a stressful period from his agency. things are slightly fucked with an underground villain organization that his team is trying to keep tabs on so his schedule gets rearranged as he helps lead the case on the activity. suddenly he’s not seeing you as often, coming in unreasonably late at night when you’re already asleep, or you’re coming home just as he’s leaving. you’re only able to have a few minutes with each other before he has to go. maybe even a quickie if the two of you are really lucky but even those leave the both of you slightly unsatisfied.

it’s just not enough time together.

it’s a whole month of this fucked up routine, and it’s when he sees your engagement ring sitting in your little jewelry tray in the bathroom when bakugou recalls your words and decides that he needs it.

he trudges into his home again at four in the morning, dropping his work bag by the couch and running his hands down his face that’s coupled with an exhausted sigh. his eyes are tired, his back aches a little, and he’s a little hungry but can’t be bothered with eating a meal at this time. all he wants to do is rest next to you.

bakugou wants his old schedule back.

after he’s showered, bakugou is careful to not jostle you too much as he joins you in bed. his heart clenches a little as he sees you curled up on his side of the bed, your face smushed into his pillow and even wearing one of his shirts are your pajamas. fuck—he misses you.

so he picks up his phone, using the last of his energy to send a text to kirishima and a sidekick in a small groupchat.

[04:47] calling out for two days. keep it together until i get back or else.

kirishima will be unquestioning to his request seeing as bakugou had done a similar favor for him when he was getting burnt out from the agency too.

his phone is put on do not disturb and is set with the screen facing down on the bedside table. bakugou is careful to move you back to your side of the bed, pressing a kiss to your temple to soothe you when you groan unpleasantly. he’s happy to sink into the warmth of the bed and he pulls you in close, falling asleep quicker than he could have anticipated.

you normally wake up at seven and you’re pretty good at hopping out of bed to start your day. this morning is not as easy, not when you wake up to bakugou having practically trapped you against him. it’s nice though, so so nice considering the schedule he’s had lately. he has to rest though from his late night and you have to be ready for work, so you try to peel his arms off you.

oh his arms… so fucking strong and built, they feel so good to be wrapped around your waist but you have to go.

when you attempt a second time to get out of his hold, you let out a small yelp when your fiancé tightens his hold and grunts, “stay.”

“katsuki, i can’t,” your voice rasps with sleepiness, trying to shake it off along with your hulking hero soon-to-be-husband off you, “gotta get ready for work.”

“stay.” bakugou repeats himself a little more firmly.

you sigh out loud and attempt a third time to get out of his hold. you’re surprised when he pushes you to lie back on the bed and he cages you with his body, looking down at you with dark bags under his eyes. almost fed up, you’re about to yell at him but he speaks first, “call out, i miss you and i’m gonna fuck you all day.”

his words are familiar but in the moment, you can’t recall from when you heard them. it has a reaction on you, has you aching and clenching your legs together as you look up at him. “you need rest, you got home late.”

“i’ll sleep when i feel like it. i just fucking miss you.” he croons, leaning down to nose at your cheek and then inhale the scent of your lotion that he can still smell faintly on your skin, “call out.”

oh god, you are tempted but you want him to sleep and you have a scheduled call with all the other managers for your work today. “katsuki, get some sleep baby. i can make dinner tonight when i get home and-“ you try to convince him to get rest but he speaks over you.

“c’mon, fuck on my cock and show me how much you miss me.”

you’re finally convinced.

it only takes thirty seconds to send a text with a reasonable excuse to your lead manager that you won’t be in for the next two days. you know that they’ll say no problem to you since you’ve hardly called out of work since you earned your promotion within the last year. and besides, there’s always other people calling out anyway so now it’s your fucking turn.

plus you know… you’re dynamight’s fiancée so you should get to flex that occasionally.

everything is frenzied now that the two of you know you have the next 48 hours with one another. no work, no meetings, no emails—just the two of you finally together.

the kisses are desperate, clothes are flung off and thrown somewhere on the bedroom floor, and bakugou is lying on his back as he grabs your hips to have you sit on his face. to have him hold you like this again has you excited, moaning loudly in relief as your fiancé eagerly eats you out. your hips roll to glide his tongue along your pussy, his big hands sliding up from your hips and cupping just right underneath your tits, one of his thumbs leisurely petting just right underneath your breast.

“oh god, oh god! fuck, s’good!” your breath is low, speaking more to yourself and lewdly moaning when bakugou roughly grabs your tits.

“missed this pussy on my face,” bakugou groans from beneath in between licks, “missed my fucking girls right here.”

ugh it’s so corny how he refers to your breasts but in the moment you find it grossly endearing. sometimes when you were cooking, bakugou would come up behind you and put his hands under your shirt just to grope at you. sometimes you would get genuinely annoyed at him for intruding in your space but with him being so busy in the last month, you had missed it more than you thought you would have.

it’s almost embarrassing how easily you cum on his tongue but bakugou has no complaints, practically drinking it up as he continues to eat away at you. as much as you relieved to get eaten out again, you were aching even more for his cock in your mouth. hopping off his face, you feel your mouth drool upon seeing your fiancé’s hard cock flushed a rosy red at the tip as it twitches against his lower stomach.

“pumpkin, hold on i want to you to—fuck!” bakugou wanted your cunt right away but he throws his head back against the pillows when you immediately deepthroat his cock. just as he had eagerly eaten you out to show how much he missed you, you were enthusiastically taking him into your throat. bakugou almost feels like a virgin with the way he’s reacting, finding himself a little sensitive that he hadn’t gotten properly sucked off in a while thanks to those shitty villains that showed on the radar for some real serious shit.

bakugou swears he’s gonna rip them apart with his own hands once they’re located for keeping him and his fiancée apart this long.

his chest rises and falls quickly, one of his hands clenching a fist as we he wills himself to not cum. but god, your mouth feels so good on his cock and he hasn’t had a proper nut in a while. the quickies he had with you along with the secret hurried fisting on his dick while on the job just weren’t cutting it. finding some semblance of control, bakugou grabs you by the back of your head and pulls you off.

“katsukiiii!” you whine out his name in a small drawl, letting out a petulant little noise that makes him coo over you, “i want more!”

bakugou hushes you gently, guiding you back over to him until he’s got you hovering over his cock. “sit on it baby, give that fucking pussy to me.” he urges you with a tone of desperation in his voice, “c’mon, fuck!”

slowly you ease onto his cock, your eyes fluttering as the tip breaches you and the stretch of your fiancé has you excited. a month isn’t necessarily a long time but when neither of you hadn’t been able to not even spend at least fifteen minutes together in the entirety since his fucked up schedule, it ends up feeling like a lifetime has passed.

your hands rest on bakugou’s pecs, needing the leverage as you sit back fully onto his cock, gasping in surprise when you already cum on him.

“oh fuck, ya missed me that much sweetheart? you only put it in and you’re already cumming again?” bakugou breathlessly laughs, using his strong hands to lift you up slightly and slamming you down. he relishes in your gasp and how your cunt is already soaking wet—it’s dripping right where’s got you plugged and onto his balls. one would think that it’s a little cruel that he repeats the motion a few times, still getting the same result as you start to lose your mind from becoming sensitive already, but he’s been missing this and missing you.

you manage to get some semblance of your brain back, pushing off bakugou’s hands and put in the work of riding him yourself. there’s no work that you need to get to later on—nothing that’s going to get in the way between you and him!

“missed you, katsuki! missed you, missed you!” your words are desperate and your cunt is eager to milk your fiancé’s cock. you ride him hard, even as your legs start to tire and you can feel a thin sheen of sweat start to form on your body, you don’t want to stop. you take him in, watching bakugou become equally overwhelmed. his eyes shut and his mouth drops open to groan, but when he attempts to open his eyes it seems that he doesn’t know where to look.

he loves watching your cunt swallow his dick, he loves how your tits bounce in his face when you fuck him like this, and he loves looking at your face as you—

smack!

“ah shit, the fuck was that for babe?” bakugou curses but he was actually exhilarated from you slapping him. normally he’s the one slapping your cheeks, but it’s not unheard of for you to give him the same treatment occasionally.

“you-you missed tasting wedding cakes with me! it was scheduled this month and you couldn’t make it!” you huff out, sitting back again onto his dick and this time shaking your hips. the little motion makes his eyes roll back but he manages to hiss out ‘m sorry baby…

oh fuck, you’re right. he had it marked off in his calendar three months prior but this stupid schedule wrecked everything! and who knows if you’ve had to reschedule or postpone certain things that are needed for the wedding all because of him.

once bakugou is back to work, he is definitely going to kill those stupid villain fuckers.

he stutters apologies, canting his hips up to meet yours and fucking you from the bottom. “sorry, fucking sorry baby… tell me everything that i missed. everything.”

“r-right now?” you shudder and then yelp when bakugou seizes control, putting you on your back and leaning over you, “tell you now?”

“no stupid, tell me when we’re not fucking.” bakugou tuts, deciding that you’re way too coherent with his dick in you. so he rams himself into you, deep into cunt and hearing another wet squelch that drips onto his cock and is gonna make a wet spot on the bed. he’s got plans to make you cum more, to make you squirt, to make you lose your voice from screaming for him but only after he listens to all the updates he’s missed for the last month.

he is going to fuck you as much as he can for the next two days.

bakugou misses your tight walls clinging onto him, sometimes clenching so hard that he has to wait for you to relax a little so that he can keep on moving. soft and wet and warm, he’s been obsessed with your pussy since the first date he had with you. he’s been in love with you for the last three years and he’s going to keep on loving you forever.

right now though, he just really really wants to fuck you for himself.

the frenzied fucking is everything that he’s been missing, watching as your head digs into the pillow and your body starts to shake. you were babbling a little earlier but now you’re so fucked out that you can only make sounds, no discernible words can be formed in your head or out loud. he’s got you suspended in ecstasy, drowning in a sea of rapture, and just absolutely stupid from his cock.

“missed this sloppy lil, pussy. fucking love this pussy, all fucking mine.”

bakugou reaches in between your bodies, knowing that he’s about to make you undone. he rubs the pad of his thumb against your clit in tandem with his thrusts. it’s like you’re renewed, your eyes widening in a brief moment of clarity at the new stimulation, taking in the onslaught of pleasure that’s surging up and down your body.

you wail for him, your toes curling and your back arching high off the bed. your cunt spasms around his cock, hugging him tightly before your orgasm crashes hard onto you. one of your arms manages to clutch onto bakugou and pulls him in close, your nails dragging down hard against his back.

that makes him come undone, fucking hard into you still as thick ropes of cum fill you. even as he cums, his fingers still work on your clit but you can barely manage to take anymore before slapping his hand away instinctively to stop overstimulating you.

your fiancé’s body is a pleasant weight that drops on you, the both of you catching your breath after some mind blowing sex. bakugou feels your hands soothe over his back. your touch is relaxing and what he’s been needing this entire time. he decides to stay like this until his cock finally softens inside you.

bakugou pulls out and rolls over to his side of the bed, pulling up the blankets to help cover you up while you still try to get yourself in order. he basks in the glow that he’s sure is radiating off of him, like a knot that’s finally massaged out of his neck, like a joint that finally cracks and gives you some relief when you stretch.

yeah… he’s been needing this.

the two of you are up on your feet and hour later, barely clothed in your own home as you walk around in an oversized sweatshirt and he leaves the bedroom only wearing his favorite sweats. bakugou is at the stove as he cooks breakfast and you’re catching him up on some of the things he’s missed on your side while you make a dirty chai for him.

“i can order a wedding cake sampler and have it delivered here, how does that sound? seeing as you missed the actual tasting.” you offer to your fiancé, stirring up his chai for him before setting it to the side, “comes with twelve flavors for us to try.”

“yeah, why not? i don’t think we’ve ever sat around just eating cake before.” bakugou agrees as he plates the second omelette that’s meant for you.

“it’s not just cake we’re eating, katsuki! it’s for the wedding! we need to choose what we think everyone will enjoy.” you chide him playfully as you set up the table for the two you. bakugou likes the setup of the little breakfast nook, but he leaves for the bathroom to fetch one thing that will make everything complete.

he picks up your engagement ring from your jewelry tray.

although bakugou is the one who decided to call off work suddenly, he can’t help but glance at his phone anyway for any updates. and he gets a single text from kirishima-

[9:01] good news! we’re off the hook for now with the case—managed to get todoroki’s agency to help rotate the watch too. enjoy your days off bro!

bakugou is grateful but he only sends it in the form of a thumbs up reaction to the text. he knows that kirishima appreciates it anyway and is probably just as relieved.

so he walks back to have breakfast with you, deciding to withhold the news from you for now as he tells you to put your ring on. and it feels right again to sit down and eat with you, drink from his favorite mug, and to be actually relaxed for the first time in a month.

“mmkay, the cakes are gonna be delivered by one! and i know it’s us choosing together, but i really liked the strawberry mousse with white cake as an option.”

he’s still got the next 40-something hours with you to fuck you as much as he wants and to make up all the time he’s missed.