#pink pointed toe pumps

[cerisereids]

𝗦𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗔𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗛𝗶𝗺 𝗪𝗮𝘀 𝗠𝗮𝗱𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗦𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆 𝗟𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗠𝗲- 𝗦.𝗥.

Pairing- early seasons!Spencer Reid x bombshell!Reader

Summary- You’re completely and totally enamored with Spencer Reid. When you have to flirt as part of a case, he is not happy.

Contains- not proofread we die like men, fem!reader, mention of reader's boobs and ass, the most unhinged work place flirting you've ever seen, Spencer is Horny, the case isn't rly canon compliant but fuck it we ball, nasty suspect who reader has to flirt with, Spencer gets insecure, they make-up and make out on the jet

A/N: divider from @saradika-graphics !!!

The soft, golden glow of sunlight filters through the window. The glimmer coats the BAU in an extra layer of warmth from the early spring chill. You adjust your light pink blouse as you approach the desk of your favorite coworker, Spencer Reid. You prop yourself up on his desk, your floral skirt pulling taut around your hips as you settle.

You swing your legs playfully, waiting for him to turn his attention away from his case file and on to you. A small smile curves his lips, and you know you got him. A heeled foot hooks behind his shin, running along the length of it until his gaze finally finds you. His eyes shine when they meet yours, a large hand moving to grip your ankle and bring it to his knee. He keeps it there, a soothing thumb rubbing the expanse of the skin there.

Your heart flutters at the action, his own cheeks tinting pink at his temerity. This has been a recent update between the two of you, Spencer's touch, his affection. Since you started at the bureau, only a few short months after him, you've been fascinated by the genius sitting beneath you now. At first, he was shocked by your immediate friendship, not used to such affection without having to earn it. In the past few months, though, his hands will graze your waist, his hugs lingering a moment too long. This change in behavior sparks a flicker of hope in your chest. Hope that, maybe, he sees you the way you see him.

You see him now, looking up at you with sparkling brown eyes. The early morning light highlights the caramel tone seeping through the dark brown. It captivates you. Your eyes drift down the rest of his face, it's all you can do to not get completely lost in him, in those eyes.

"Whatcha looking at, handsome?" you drawl, sweet as honey as you reach for the case file on his desk.

You can't help the small smile that forms as heat rushes into his face, deepening his complexion a deep red.

"It-" his words catch in his throat, which he clears before continuing, "it's for a potential new case. From Hotch."

His tone is clipped, as if he's forcing himself to sound casual. He does that when he's nervous, you've come to find out. You wonder if the pointed toe heel resting delicately on his knee has anything to do with that. You press the ball of your foot into him playfully, reveling in the way he flushes even deeper.

"Can I see?" you ask lightly, tilting your head and pouting your lips, "I want to see if it's the one I passed along to him on Monday. I still haven't heard back from him about it."

You hop down from his desk, grabbing the chair adjacent from his desk. Maybe you pull it a little too close to his chair, but you can't seem to care too much once his bicep grazes your own. The smallest touch sends shock waves through you, a surge of electricity pumping straight to your heart.

You hear his breath pick up as you reach across his lap to grab the file. A small smile spreads across your lips as Spencer nods his head frantically, long, deft fingers passing the file to you.

"Yeah-yeah, I think it is. The white collar case on Cape Cod, right?" he asks, and you nod.

"Yeah, he wanted you to look at it?" you look towards him with bright eyes, hopeful. "I wasn't sure he'd be okay with us picking this one up. It's not really something we normally cover, but I have a feeling about it. Something's not right..." you trail off, scanning the details once more.

"I agree," he says, and it's almost laughable how relieved you feel at his approval. "I couldn't help but notice the fraud charge. They wired the money to an account in Germany. If this crosses country lines then we might be dealing with something more than just fraud."

"That's exactly what I was thinking!" your fingers latch onto his forearm in excitement. His eyes flash to your touch, his breath catching again.

Your eyes linger on his face, tracing each freckle of his smooth skin. His eyes flit up to yours, and the contact stops time. Everything around you comes to a standstill, you and Spencer are the only ones that exist in this moment.

A tap of a manila folder snaps you out of your Spencer-induced-haze, cheeks heating as you look up to find Hotch. A knowing look glimmers in his eye, and you twist your hands in your lap.

"Get ready to leave for Cape Cod," is all he says, tone definitive before he goes to brief the rest of the team.

Spencer's heart clutches in his chest as they exit the plane, right onto a coastal beach. She's dressed for the occasion, an airy, floral sundress ebbing and flowing around her gorgeous figure. He shoves his hands in his pockets, willing his gaze to focus anywhere else. He finds solace in his Converse, the way they squish against the sand deters him from the way her dress dips lower at the chest.

He shakes his head, as if to rid himself of the thought, as guilt creeps into the pit of his stomach. He's been fighting these feelings ever since she joined the bureau. The magnetic pull she has on him, the grip of want clutching his heart, his lungs, until he can barely breathe. As always, she saddles up next to him, as if she knew she's on his mind. She's always on his mind.

A mix of coconut and chemicals fill his nostrils, her sunscreen infiltrating all his senses. Her bare arm grazes against his, her proximity nearly suffocating. He'd rather die than move away from her, though.

They're assigned the same task, analyzing the letters sent to and from various money launderers. She's bent at the waist, palms flat against the white folding table set up on the beach. Hormones rage through him, he feels like a perverse teenager, but the way she pops her hip out nearly gives him a heart attack.

His arm lifts, almost involuntarily, his hand lightly grazing her elbow as he makes his presence known. He revels in the way her eyes light up as they find him, her hand finding his shoulder. He feels dizzy when she gives it a light squeeze, the prettiest smile painting her glossy lips.

"What have you found?" he ponders. She raises her brow at him.

"We've been here for not even five minutes. How do you know I've found something?" she inquires. A light chuckle escapes his lips, his eyes finding the letters she's been scanning.

"You have that crease in your brow when you know something," he mentions softly, her smile widening. "What is it?"

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, the plump flesh ever so tempting. She's so beautiful when she works, it takes his breath away.

"This. Look at this sentence, here," she points about halfway through an old, crinkled letter. It catches his eye immediately.

"'It's been handled. There's nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about.' What do you make of that?" he asks, though he has some theories himself.

"A partnership. It almost seems romantic, 'pretty little head'," she repeats, "it's almost flirtatious. Like he wants to take care of the partner, man or woman."

Spencer has no idea how the perfect combination of beauty and brains found him, of all people, but God, is he thankful.

"I agree, nice work," he smiles at her, and he revels in the way she preens at his praise. The sun coats her skin, and the natural light makes her shimmer like an angel.

"Thanks, Spence," she nudges his shoulder with hers, and his cheeks heat. It's not from the sun.

An arrest is made not long after they touch down- a 25 year old manager of a local golf club. He's a broad, muscly type, the kind of guy that's always made Spencer feel smaller, less-than. He sees it. The moment he clocks her. It makes him sick.

He's handcuffed, Hotch dragging him along the beach to the interrogation space. On his way there, his eyes lock on the girl right next to him. Acidic bile rises in his throat as his eyes scan up and down, sizing her up like a lamb for slaughter.

Hotch approaches them a few minutes later, his gaze directed at her.

"He says he'll only talk to you. He wants 'the pretty one'," Hotch informs. A shiver unzips Spencer's spine at that, the sick feeling from earlier creeping up his throat once again. He can't help but link his pinkie finger through hers, a reassuring gesture that she's more than this.

Hotch leans closer, his voice a low timbre. "Between us, this guy is a bona fide creep. You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

A wave of relief rushes through Spencer at this, though his stomach drops when she removes her pinkie from his. He sees her straighten her spine in his peripheral, and his head snaps up to look at her. He knows the second he sees her. She's going to do it.

"No," she says to Hotch, almost defiant, "I can do it. I want to help in any way I can."

Hotch studies her for a moment, his brow furrowing in a concern Spencer shares. He nods tersely, and Spencer knows fighting this is a lost cause.

"Alright, let's go," Hotch says lowly, letting her go before both of them.

Spencer follows. It's against his better judgement, he knows he'd probably be of better use elsewhere. He can't let her go in alone, though. Not even if he tried.

Your heart is thumping in your chest, your blood thrumming in your veins as you near the interrogation room. Spencer's behind you the whole time, you can tell. A tiny flame of hope flickers in your chest as he stands at the glass, a white knuckle grip on the table beneath him.

You make eye contact with him one last time before opening the door. You see the restraint in his big brown eyes, how badly he wants to tell you to not go in. You take a deep breath and open the door anyway.

A sickly feeling creeps its way into your stomach, acid bubbling in the deepest part of you. You watch as he sizes you up, his gaze lingering a little too long on your chest. You're used to this, to men treating you like a piece of meat. It never gets easier, but you find a small bit of comfort in the fact that you're helping your team. So, you plaster your sweetest smile, falling into the role that's expected of you.

"Hi! How are you doing? Uncomfortable?" you pout your glossy lips, tone sickly sweet as you perch on the edge of the table. His eyes linger on your ass, the fat of it emphasized by your weight on the table. You arch your back slightly. You know you look good, you decide to lean into it instead of focusing on the man in front of you.

"What do you think, sweetheart?" he asks, sarcasm lacing his tone as he rattles his cuffs. "You help, though."

Your stomach churns, but your smile never falters. Your experience with men like this isn't foreign to you. You know every button you need to push.

"Yeah?" you drawl, your manicured nails crawling to his forearm, resting gingerly there. "Anything I can get you? Food? Water?" you bat your lashes sweetly. The glint in his eye reeks of objectification, and you swallow the lump in your throat.

"Get me a cheeseburger and fries from Louie's. Oh- and a chocolate milkshake, cherry on top," he winks at that last line. You pity him for how proud he seems of it.

You place a hand on his forearm, leaning in so your face is parallel with his. You watch his eyes flit down to your chest, now even more exposed in your position.

"You got it," your tone is saccharine, your nails dragging lightly against his arm as you stand to leave. You make sure to sway your hips a little extra as you leave, looking over your shoulder one more time before opening the door.

You exit the interrogation room to the shocked expressions of your team members, most are impressed, others in pure shock. You catch Spencer, though, and it doesn't take a genius to see the incredulous expression on his face. His brows furrowed, a pout hanging low on his lips.

"Way to work it, honey," Morgan claps you on the back. Hotch nods his agreement.

Pride swells in your belly at their praise. You can't shake Spencer's lack of enthusiasm, though. His inability to look you in the eye sparks a flame of disappointment, blazing through the content you felt just moments before.

You weave your way through the small room, linking your fingers around Spencer's wrist and pulling him out into the precinct. He still can't look at you.

"Spencer, what's wrong?" you're not really sure where to start. You hope this gets him talking.

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong," his voice is high pitched in the way that it does when he's lying. "I just- I can't watch you put yourself on display for someone that looks at you like a piece of meat! Is that just your natural state? Since it clearly comes so easily to you."

He mumbles the last part under his breath, and it shocks you into silence. Frustration flares in your chest, spreading like wildfire from head to toe.

"You don't have to watch, then, Spencer," you spit out his name, and he flinches at your tone. "I'm trying to help our team solve this case. If you can't watch, then maybe your skills would be used better somewhere else."

You stalk off, hurt piercing through every nerve in your body. You wiggle your fingers, stretching your neck side to side as you try to shake off the feeling. It finds its way back to you, no matter what you do, rising like bile up your throat.

You open the door back to the interrogation room, watching the man behind the glass eat his food without a care in the world. You stew for a moment, letting yourself sit in the hurt, the anger. You decide to let it fuel you.

You reach your hands into your dress, pushing your boobs up so they rest perkily above the neckline. You turn to Hotch, who looks like he regrets the day he was born, fire blazing in your eye.

"I can crack him," you say assuredly. Hotch nods in response, and you turn the knob to the interrogation room.

Spencer can't help but find his way back into the interrogation room. He sits in the back, behind Hotch and Morgan, back hunched, arms crossed over his chest. His brows are furrowed, the pout on his lips everlasting.

Guilt boils in his stomach as she saunters back in the room. The way his eyes light up when he sees her makes Spencer physically ill. He clears his throat uncomfortably, which causes Derek's head to cross over his shoulder, finding Spencer immediately.

Spencer shrinks into himself even more as Derek moves to join him at the back table. They sit for a moment, watching as she bends over the table at the waist, popping her hip out in a way that's sinful. Spencer bites his lip, completely giving up on hiding his feelings from Derek. He figured him out months ago.

"The way I spoke to her, Derek..." Spencer trails off shamefully. He shakes his head, unable to look at her without feeling nauseous.

"She's going to forgive you. She just needs to know you're coming from a place of concern, not judgement," Derek says, his poignancy grating Spencer's nerves even further. How dare he have such good judgement?

"How do you know she'll forgive me?" Spencer murmurs. He can't remember the last time he sounded so weak.

"Because I know," his certainty draws Spencer's gaze up to meet Morgan's. They sit in loaded silence, the only sound cutting through is her saccharine tone from the other side of the glass. It churns in Spencer's stomach like bad milk.

Derek moves back to where he was before, next to Hotch at the glass window. It's then that Spencer finally wills himself to look at her. She's got her hands on her hips, all her weight resting on one foot in a way that highlights her figure. She flips her hair, and the suspect is completely drawn to her.

"You're a smart guy, I can just tell..." she croons, moving closer towards him, "but being smart doesn't mean you can hide from me, you know?"

The suspect blushes at this, though a smug smirk paints his lips. "I don't know what you're talking about, baby. I didn't do anything."

Spencer white knuckles the table beneath him. It's all he can do to not go in there and wipe that smile right off his face.

"I know you're not used to pretty girls pushing back. Most of them just fall for that smile, huh?" her voice is lower, more intimate, as a nail traces the shape of his lip.

The suspect tenses then, turning his gaze down to his hands. Spencer sits up at this, adrenaline striking him at the suspect's discomfort.

"I...I didn't do anything. I swear," the suspect emphasizes that last part, and Spencer knows she's got him.

"You really think I'm going to let you get away with that answer, when I know the truth?" she's resting on the table now, her hip delicately perched just inches away from the suspect. "It's okay to let go, you know," a nail lightly grazes up his arm. He shivers. "You've lost control already, haven't you?"

The last question comes out as a whisper. The suspect jolts away from her, the legs of his chair scraping the floor.

"I didn't mean for it to go this far, okay?" the suspect exclaims. Spencer stands fully upright now, moving to stand in-between Hotch and Morgan.

"She's got him," Morgan mumbles, and Spencer's chest swells with pride.

"But it did go that far, didn’t it? And now you’re here. You can’t run anymore. What happened that night? I’m right here. You can tell me," she's batting her eyelashes, yet venom laces her tone.

"It was just supposed to be money laundering. They told me I'd be making seven figures if I did. That's all I wanted. I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt," he groans, head falling back.

Spencer, Hotch, and Morgan all exchange weary looks, brows raised in surprise. Pride blossoms in his chest like an early spring flower, his cheeks warming at the sight of his best friend. He's so, so proud of her. He was such an ass earlier. He'll spend the rest of his life making it up to her.

Her head tilts to the side, a faux pout painting her lips. She pats his shoulder definitively before standing.

"Thanks, babe," her tone is sarcastic now, and she winks before leaving the room.

She's caught off guard to see Spencer there, stopping in the doorway just briefly before closing it behind her. The pride swelling in his chest dissipates to that boiling guilt from before, bubbling deep in his stomach.

"Good work," Hotch nods at her, a prideful smile on her lips, "Morgan, have Garcia research any connections to our unsub. He said 'they', we may be looking for a team."

Hotch follows Morgan out, and he's left alone with her now. It dawns on him that he's never been speechless with her before. She's always made him feel comfortable expressing whatever's on his mind. Now, as her eyes gleam with hurt, he doesn't think he's earned that right.

"You did it," he breathes. He gets a heavy scoff in response.

"I knew I would, since it comes so naturally, I thought why not lean into it?" her venomous tone pierces through his heart as she walks past him. She pats his shoulder the same way she did with the unsub, is skin aflame at the contact, even though she's mad at him.

A wine glass is perched between your fingers as you curl up on the jet. It's a celebratory drink, insisted by Morgan for your involvement in solving the case. You look out the window to the setting sun over the coast, the sparkling water. You take a deep breath before taking a long sip.

It's not soon after you take off that night falls, your teammates falling asleep in waves. One certain member hasn't, though. You feel Spencer's eyes on you as you make your way to the back of the jet, spilling out the remaining contents of your glass in the small sink at the bar.

You relent on your way back, the blaring anger you felt earlier dulled to a hum of frustration. He looks tired, vulnerable in his current state, curled up on the couch of the jet. You crouch in front of him, a delicate hand perched on his shoulder. His eyes meet yours in record time, regret flashing through them almost immediately.

Your heart aches, as if two large hands are squeezing as hard as they can. You've missed him. It doesn't feel right to celebrate your win without him. You push back a strand of hair that's fallen in front of his eye, and they gleam at your touch. You can't help but smile at his softness.

"Spence..." you start, but he cuts you off.

"I'm so, so sorry, honey," the words burst out of him. Your heart clutches at the pet name.

"It's okay," you smile meekly, but your acceptance is sincere all the same.

"No. No, it's not," he says as he sits up, facing you properly now. "I should have never said what I did, it was-it was awful of me. I never want to make you feel like that again."

"Why did you say it, Spencer?" you inquire, the breath robbed from your lungs, "it was so unlike you. It hurt, but it caught me by surprise more than anything."

His eyes squeeze shut at the confirmation that he'd hurt you, and you rest a delicate palm on his forearm. A sincere gesture now, compared to the hollow touches you'd doled out earlier.

"Spencer, I want you to talk to me," you whisper, and he shudders at the softness in your voice. You know he thinks he doesn't deserve your forgiveness.

"That guy, the way he looked at you, he looks nothing like me..." he trails off, and it clicks in your brain.

He wasn't mad at you for flirting, he was scared you were leading him on. That he wasn't as important as a guy who looked like that.

"Oh, Spence..." you can't help yourself, you plop right in his lap. You pull his neck into your shoulder, a deep hug as he breathes shakily.

"You're just so beautiful, any guy like that could have you. Yet you pay attention to me. Why?" he pulls back and looks up at you, eyes glimmering with unshed tears.

"Spencer, for one, that guy is being charged with fraud and murder in the first degree. Don't compare yourself to him," a teasing lilt laces your tone, and he groans playfully into your neck.

You cradle him for a moment, and can't help but notice how normal this feels, how right it is to be with him in this way. You're so in love with him. You have been ever since you first met him, and you need him to know.

"Spencer, you don't give yourself enough credit for how hot you really are," you smirk. He scoffs at that, an involuntary noise that almost wakes up the whole jet.

"Shhh!" you giggle, nails scraping the back of his scalp. You watch the way he shudders at the action, you give him another little scratch before continuing.

"You're so beautiful, Spencer," you cup his cheeks, pressing your forehead into his. "I'm sorry you don't see it."

"Do you see it?" he asks, and you know what he really means. Do you really love me? Or are you just being kind?

"Of course I do, Spencer. I see your kind eyes, your full lips, your hands..." you trail off, finding his hand splayed on your back. You grab it, putting your palm flat against his.

"My-my hands?" he laughs out in disbelief. His cheeks are tinted pink, and you don't think you've ever wanted anyone this bad in your entire life.

You nod. "Yeah, your hands, Spence. They're huge," you lace your fingers together then, and he shudders at the touch.

"But it's not only what's on the outside, though I do enjoy it so very much," he blushes even more profusely. You never want him to stop. "Your heart, Spence. It's so kind, and loving, and forgiving, I'm sorry you don't see yourself as enough. I'll spend as much time as you'll let me proving you wrong."

He looks you in the eye, then. His brows furrowed, lips pouted. The air between you thickens in the silence, your chests move up and down in time together.

"I love you," you whisper, and the shuddering breath that leaves Spencer's lips makes you want to cry.

He buries his face in your neck once more, the heat from his still-red cheeks radiating off of him.

"Oh, angel. I love you, too. I'm so sorry. I love you, I don't deserve you-"

You cut his rambling off with the sweetest kiss to his lips. He groans into it, pulling you closer into him with his hands.

"This dress, honey. I haven't been able to keep my eyes off you all day," he whispers in between kisses.

You let out the smallest whimper at that, the thought of driving him crazy just from your outfit giving you a confidence boost for the ages.

"Yeah?" you ask playfully, moving his hand to rest against a bare spot on your thigh. He looks up at you, submission gleaming in his eye as he nods.

You could just destroy him.

"If you guys start to hook up on this jet, I'm snitching," you and Spencer both jump at the voice coming from behind.

It's Morgan, sitting awake amongst the rest of the sleeping team. Your heart pounds from the shock, though a smile still splays across your face. Spencer looks the same, flushed but content, his cheeks bunching up around his eyes.

"It is about time. We've had a running pool throughout the whole office over who was gonna cave first. Looks like I'm getting a cut, thanks, pretty girl," Derek ruffles your hair as he walks past, going to make himself a coffee at the bar.

"Morgan!" Spencer whines, his head falling back against the couch.

You giggle, too in love to care that you were caught. You snake your arms around his neck, leaning in to whisper in his ear.

"We'll finish what we started when we get home," you're seductive in your tone, and you can tell you're successful from the goosebumps rising on his flesh.

He shivers as you move off his lap, settling into his side as you begin to descend on Quantico. A flight home has never felt so long.

[sungiescheotluv]

mirror muscles ⭑.ᐟ na jaemin

pairing: na jaemin x gender neutral reader

word count: 2.7k

tags/warnings: fluff, established relationship, suggestive, gym talk(?)

summary: doing your new resolutions with jaemin has always worked in your favor, most goals ticked off your lists. however, when you mention going to gym, jaemin's enthusiasm reaches new heights.

notes: hiyaaaa! it feels like forever since i last posted (two days omg 🙄) but i do hope you pretty stars enjoy this very indulgent fic! as an aspiring gym girlie, i'd do anything for this kind of princess treatment (particularly from jaemin 😋) also, the title of this is based on the soft play song with the same name (emo jisung, lemme give u some music recs). ok, i think i'm done here. wishing u all the best, much loveeee! <3

Note to self: never, under any circumstances, tell Jaemin your New Year’s resolution. Because one peek at your ambitious list and Jaemin will pry you from your warm bed, at the ass crack of dawn (might you add) to go to the gym because ‘nothing beats a morning pump.’

If you weren’t stupidly in love with him, you would’ve dropped a dumbbell on his toe.

How you get to this point is a lot more wholesome. Since the start of your relationship, once snow trickles down for Christmas, you two sit at your dining table with your laptops opened on Pinterest and pin-point what goals you'd like to achieve the following year. This way, you’re not shouldering your ambitions alone, having each other every step of the year as you tick off box after box. So far, you’ve managed to complete most of your goals. Go traveling, learn a new language, cook more home-cooked meals, limit screen time (still working on that) and many more. Jaemin was also progressing well: dedicating more time in his photography, reducing his coffee intake, going to bed earlier and visiting his mother more. 

For this year’s moodboard, while collecting pictures of your next set of goals, fitness content shows up in your recommendations. People in pilates studios in their pastel pink gym-sets. The aesthetic draws you in, how content people feel moving their body besides getting their 10k steps a day in. More photos start showing up, people sculpting their pride in the gym, sharing personal stories of their fitness journey and how the gym has taught them so much about themselves. What they’re capable of, what they never thought they could do and what opportunities lie await now that they’re happier in themselves. It all seems promising, even more so when you reconsider how bright your best friend’s life’s become since making the choice. She’d rarely accompany you to a game of badminton and now she’s pioneering her own run-club, amassing a social media following the size of an army.

You’d have to ask her how to get started once she’s back from her influencer trip (maybe content creating is something you needed to hop on). Then again, peering over your laptop screen to Jaemin’s glowing face, you could simply ask him. He’s been consistently going to the gym for a while now, to the point where you fake-pleaded for SM to close their gym because your boyfriend's become too buff for you to function. He’s always been gorgeous, with a face that could charm a snake, but now that he’s carved like a Renaissance sculpture, you couldn’t form a coherent sentence around him. Of course, aesthetic reasons are what lured him into the space, but he relays it’s become a lot more than that for him.

“I want to be strong, not only to build my confidence but to also protect my loved ones,” he looks directly at you, a serious hue to his eyes. “It’s another form of self-love. Showing up for myself, proving I can do hard things, even when I don’t want to. That I can step out of my comfort zone, try new things and ultimately, live a longer life. Because at the end of the day, as much as I do this for me, I also do it so I can help you carry groceries. So that I can move furniture around when we move in together, be the one that my family calls if they need something physically demanding done,”

Fondness curves his lips, a flicker of timidity dart his eyes down to the desk before they flicker back up at you, astoundingly earnest as he says, “I’d also want to keep up with our kids. Carry them when they’re tired or run after them in a park. Those are my reasons.”

Something stutters in your chest. Then, leaps. Over the course of your three year relationship, it’s only natural that topics like this are mentioned, like marriage and children. Heck, you two shared a Pinterest board of decor ideas for the shared apartment you’d been on the lookout for. So, it shouldn't phase you but it does. How far into the future he sees with you. How he shares a bit of himself so effortlessly, in a way that lacks pressure and possesses good faith. Love and promise. All prominent themes throughout your relationship, one you thank your lucky stars for.

As a consequence, you flush. Folding like the early days of your relationships. “You’re getting bold these days. We haven’t even moved in together.”

“All in good time, angel,” he grins, looking a bit lovesick. “In any case, if this is something you wanna do, I’d be more than happy to help. Go to the gym with you so you don’t feel anxious, show you how to use the machines, get you workout clothes - whatever you want.”

You could marry this man.

You extend your arm across the wooden table, hand finding his as your fingers interlace, the same song and dance you’d hope you’d spend your life doing. “Thanks, baby.”

And now? Now, divorce weighs heavily on your mind.

In an effort to avoid the New Year’s crowd, Jaemin wakes you up early in the slum of days after Christmas where time doesn’t exist, cuddling into your half-sleeping figure with a gentle voice. Coaxes you to get up, slip on the new gym clothes you’d spent on his card (his treat, he said) and somehow, here you are, stinging eyes squinting under fluorescent lights with some EDM track playing faintly in the background.

“Oh, baby. Don’t look so down, you’re in good hands,” Jaemin coos, hand squishing your cheeks under your chin before pulling you into his chest, warm and comforting. “I’ll take care of you.”

“Couldn’t this wait until,” you glance at your fitness tracker, your own treat to yourself. “Midday? No one needs to be here at 9 am.”

“Maybe, but it’s a good way to start your day. Or get it out of the way,” he chuckles, spinning you out his arms before he wiggles his eyebrows. “Plus, who doesn’t want to see my muscles first thing in the morning?”

He drives home his point by kissing his bicep, something that should make you cringe out your skin or disappear without a trace, but no. Perhaps you’re still sleepy, shielding a snicker with your hand because of how lame (said adoringly) he is.

“You said you’d usually start off with thirty minutes on the treadmill, right?” You nod your head. “Okay, I’ll go with you. I’ll run for fifteen and row until you're done. So you don’t constantly have me in your ear.”

You laugh, because as grumpy as you’d been on the way here, you could never grow tired of him. All his carefree and mischief nature, his sweet and generous manner - you couldn’t even if you tried. 

Few people populate the modern gym, near to none in the cardio section as Jaemin refreshes your memory on all the buttons before you begin. Beside you, he does sporadic sprints, no heavy breaths clouding his chatter with you. You, on the other hand, keep it relatively reserved for your first time, upping the speed when you want to challenge yourself, surprising yourself with the distance and time that flies by. Soon enough, Jaemin’s squeezing your hand and moving a few rows back where the rowing machines are, leaving you with your walking playlist.

Again, in a flash, time passes by, upbeat songs blaring in your headphones that make you dance through the next fifteen minutes, a simmer of sadness coming when you’ve reached time with a whole host of songs still in the queue.

“You can listen to them next time,” Jaemin winks before leading you into a dark, LED room dotted with mirrors and yoga mats. This is one of the rooms booked for classes, but for now, it’s your stretching area where you cycle through some stretches and Jaemin jokes about folding you like a pretzel. 

The one other person in the room - a woman in her thirties - coughs, before smirking your way, the heat of your embarrassment migrating to your cheeks as you swat at Jaemin. He simply laughs, stretching to reveal his happy trail and suddenly, you forget why you’re even mad. 

When you’re finished, he shows you different sections - an assortment of cable machines, the weights area and then to an area with more machines. There’s a few people occupying the machines, immersed in their own world with flushed cheeks and sweat seeping into their clothes. It fills you with relief, that no one’s focused on you and your sweating figure as if you had ‘gym newbie’ written across your forehead. Jaemin shows you some of the machines he uses, depending on what he wants to work out but for the most part, lets you decide what machines you’d want to use - if any.

“Why do I need to put on muscle? You putting me in a headlock is good enough.” You fake-complain, feeding off the gentle approach Jaemin’s taken in trying to convert you to a gym rat.

“And you say I’m the dirty one,” he tsks with a matching grin. “You don’t need to do anything. All I’m doing is showing you the options you have. The more things you try, the more likely you’ll find something you lik-”

“Is that the slut machine?”

Jaemin’s head jerks back, eyebrows pinching together in confusion. “What are you talking about?��

“This one,” you approach the machine closeby, pointing to the photo attached along with its actual name - hip adduction. “Isn’t this the one where people like, open their legs like crazy?”

Jaemin shakes his head, amusement in the smile he swipes with his hand. “Yes, it is. Wanna give it a go?”

“Hell yeah,” you climb into the machine in a rush, finding the experience more exciting than scary as Jaemin makes sure everything is in order. “This is gonna be hilarious.”

“I’m setting it to a low weight. If it’s too easy, we’ll move it upwards and try and find your range,” he comments, looking at you through his silver hair. “You ready?”

“Ready,” and you go, the weight moving like nothing, so much so that when it sets back to its original position, you’re more caught off guard by how far apart your legs are spread. “This is so raunchy, ohmygod.”

“Good thing it’s facing the wall,” Jaemin laughs at you shielding in between your legs. He ups the weight, the number looking a lot scarier than anticipated. “Let’s try this then. You should be able to rep 10 of these.”

You shuffle, a bit unconvinced. Taking a breath, you engage the machine, exerting more effort than before but managing to do one rep. Then two, then three all the way up to ten. Enough to challenge you, but not strain you.

Jaemin howls, pinching your cheek as he says, “Look at you go! That was great.”

“Thank you,” you huff, the tingle in your thighs somehow the source of the happiness in your chest. “That was really fun, actually.”

“Isn’t it?” Jaemin smiles, using some paper towel to wipe after the machine for you. “Usually people do about three sets of those. Reps depend on what you want to do - build endurance, muscle strength, all that. But that was really great, I’m so proud of you.”

And you feel proud of yourself too. Having tried something new, feeling unsure but leaning into the feeling. Letting yourself see how far you can extend yourself, pleasantly surprised with the distance. 

So, this was what Jaemin was on about.

You continue your morning like this, getting a personalised tutoring session in how certain machines works and what areas they work out. Jaemin runs through his leg day, since you two were on the hip adduction machine, enjoying more exercises like leg press and goblet squats. By the time you get to the hip thrust machine to try, someone’s occupying it. Jaemin suggests using the squat rack, the scary thing with a long barbell and weights attached to it. Sensing your apprehension, Jaemin lets you know he’s got you, coaching you through the exercise and any queries you may have about movement or positioning. Eventually, it’s your turn to lean against the incline bench and despite your fear, you work your way through 8 hip thrusts. You don’t nearly enjoy it as much as people online talk about it, which Jaemin says,

“That’s perfectly fine. There’s so many exercises that work the same areas. You’ll find one you prefer.” 

Finished for your session, Jaemin asks for you to hold tight while he does some deadlifts. It’s maddening watching him pick up such heavy weights, concentration knitting his eyebrows together with his exposed arms flexing under the tension. Wearing a sleeveless top for the gym in theory is great, but for your mental health? Bad, so bad. 

Because even if your body rings with exhaustion, the kind that’s refreshing and ensures a peaceful slumber, you’re about ready to jump his bone. 

Ill with lust, as you’d joke. 

Jaemin snickers, snapping his waist belt off with one hand, which shouldn’t be sexy but is. Your eyes then trail to the barbell, the memory of Jaemin’s set vivid in your mind.

“Did you wanna try it?” Jaemin asks, reading your mind. “We can start off with no weights. Just the barbell. There’s also different variations of a deadlift, let’s see which one you prefer.”

Out of the three, you pick the most conventional one to start with, teeth sinking into your bottom lip at what you’ve gotten yourself into. Particularly after Jaemin loads weights on each end when you've rehearsed with the barbell.

“Think of the barbell cutting your feet in half - not standing too close so that your shins are touching it and not too far away that you have to lean to grab it,” Jaemin coaches, your feet shuffling into the right position. “Nice. Let’s move onto the hinge movement,”

From behind you, his hands settle onto your hips, pulling them back with him. He pats them, a chuckle left in his wake as he steps to your side to demonstrate without overly being horny. 

Bastard.

“Like you just did, you’ve gotta hinge your hips backwards until you can’t hinge anymore. Then, you’ll move a little into your knees, like a squat almost so you can grab the barbell,” you follow along, the barbell cold against your hands as you blow a breath.

“Great. Keep your body tense, engage your core and glutes. No arch,” his hand hovers over the arch of your back, something teasing in his smile. “Show your chest, keep your head up straight and lift the barbell up. Remember to keep it close to your body before you lower it down with the same hinge movement and movement into your knees.”

You puff out another breath, the same fear you’ve conquered throughout the session whirring in your chest.

“Don’t worry, angel,” Jaemin smiles, moving behind you again with hovered hands around your figure. “I’ve got you. You’ve got you.” 

Again, his words dawn on you. All the power in your hands, a feeling your heart wants nothing more than to run towards as you lift up the barbell, strength personified as you wait at the top of your stance, smiling at the “Let’s fucking go, you’re doing it! You’re doing it, angel!” in your ear. You hinge backwards, the weight knocked down to the floor with no tension on your back as expected.

Once you’re upright again, Jaemin engulfs you in a backhug, lifting your figure off the floor and kissing your neck, drawing giggles out of you. Joy moves through your body like warm light at his excitement that exceeds your own, belief not setting in quite yet.

“I can’t believe you,” he coos, the mirror ahead of you capturing the embrace he holds you in, the elation in his eyes as he does nothing but adore you. Like he’s always done. “Actually, I can. You’ve got a laundry list of things you’re good at. Can you believe it?”

“Not originally,” you admit, the confession somewhat bittersweet. “But after this, I think I’d better have more faith in myself.”

Fondness finds itself in his lips again, a kiss against your cheek as he gently guides you out the way, lifting the barbell onto the rack with his gaze in the mirror directed to yours. 

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

And you fall into laughter, helping him slid off the weights before flexing in the mirror like you wanted, finding a different strength in yourself with Jaemin by your side.

[81pastrys]

Hi it's me again (the smut requester 😭 is that my name now? ) anyway I'm so happy u love my requests here's another one bc I'm a whore for dom Lando (guilty af 😔) reader decides she wants a turn to be in control once but Lando refuses to let her bc he's a control freak (that one interview with Tom Daley iykyk 😉) and so she decides to take matters into her own hands where she secretly stashes a pair of handcuffs on the side table and tells him to close his eyes cuz she's got a surprise and he does, thinking it's lingerie or smth, and she quickly handcuffs him to the bed to have her way with him and he's trying to get out of the handcuffs and telling her she's gonna get absolutely fucked over when she releases him and she's just having sm fun finally being able to tease him but then once she does take off the handcuffs he decides to prove his point that he's always in control (in the bedroom ofc) love ur work and ur one of my fav authors honestly 🫶🫶

Domineer

Summary— She sneaks handcuffs on Lando and he reminds her he’s in charge and not the other way around

Warnings— SMUT ; handcuffs ; handjob ; blowjob ; rough sex ; overstimulation ; dom!Lando ; sub!Lando ish ; sub!reader ; dom!reader ish

A/N— YES. sorry intrusive thought. Add an emoji so I know it’s you on your requests!!

Lando One Shots

Dividers @bernardsbendystraws @dollywons

Lando always took control in the bedroom, he made sure she knew that. He didn’t like to even think of doing what he does to her being done to him. He knew he was a menace in bed, edging or overstimulating her until she tapped out.

She mentioned taking control once, not even tying him up and he disagreed so quickly. She pouted the rest of the day and week for that matter, even if he tried to make it up to her.

So, she took matters into her own hands, ordering a pair of sturdy bedroom handcuffs accented with fluffy covers that were bubblegum pink and hiding them on the bed poles. She made sure that they stayed in place and when he returned from work she was excited to test them out. On him.

“Baby I have a surprise!” She said to him after their normal greetings when he got home. He smiled cheekily, thinking she had gotten lingerie or a new toy he could torture her with here and there. She had done that before and he knew how excited she would get to show him.

The plan went perfectly, he undressed himself and laid on the bed right where she wanted him. She went off to the bathroom and shut the door, she did buy new lingerie just because, telling him to close his eyes before she walked out. “Whatever you want babe.” He laughed.

She peeked and saw his eyes shut, tip toeing her way over to him and quickly catching his wrist to cuff it. His eyes shot open and he huffed an angry breath at her. She giggled and got on the bed straddling him, forgetting one hand was still free of a handcuff.

He immediately reached down and played with her wet cunt making her moan. “Undo the cuff babe.” He said, knowing she was easily influenced while being pleasured. She was grinding on his hand while moaning out a no. “You’re going to hate me once you let me go.” He grumbled. She took his hand away and cuffed it to the opposite side.

“Hmm we’ll see.” She said, gaining her composure back. She got to work on teasing him and he pulled roughly at the handcuffs, hoping they’d break. She went slow, making the pleasure last longer than he wanted.

“Babe, take the handcuffs off.” He said, his voice wavering from how she was grabbing him. “Fuck- babe, I swear.” He groaned. She ignored him and pumped her hand up and down innocently. She looked to him with the innocent eyes and he gave her an angry stare back.

She smiled and then took it a step further by taking him in her mouth, his hips bucking to resemble some sort of upper hand. Her throat tightening and causing him to moan out. She always gave him good head, but this was different. He couldn’t just stop her whenever, his hands were cuffed.

“I’m close, babe, do you want me to cum in that pretty mouth?” He teased. He never finished in her mouth, it was a gentleman thing. He never wanted her to swallow it, he always wanted it inside her otherwise. When she didn’t stop her movements of licking and sucking, he groaned that he was kidding.

“No, cum in my mouth.” She protested. She worked him more to the brink and he couldn’t hold back, his hips twitching for a release and he gave them one. His load spurting into her warm mouth. She moaned and choked on the heavy amount of cum he produced. She pulled back, a hand firmly squeezing him still and looking him in the eyes while swallowing.

“Fuck that was hot.” He panted, wincing at the overstimulation of his cock still being held firmly. He could feel his heartbeat through it and so could she. “Alright now take the handcuffs off.” He said. She pouted and shook her head.

“But I’m having fun.” She said. She kissed him and his face contorted into disgust at the taste of himself. “You taste amazing baby.” She teased. “You should cum in my mouth more often no?” He bucked his hips, her hand no longer squeezing him. She lined him up with her and he gave her an angry look again.

“Babe, I’m warning you.” He said. She giggled at his words and slowly sank down onto his length. She felt the stretch, no foreplay meant more pain when he thrusted his hips. She sat on him for a minute before deciding what she was going to do. “I’ll take care of you if you let me go.” He taunted.

She wasn’t listening, her walls reacting to the intrusion. He rested on her g-spot and he twitched making her moan. “Stop, lan.” She demanded. He knew he was getting to her head. He continued to slowly rock his hips and make her crumble. She knew she lost, she lost when she first handcuffed him.

“Take the handcuffs off now.” He demanded. “I’m gonna make sure you can’t walk tomorrow.” He added. She moaned as his hips never stopped moving. She reached to the bedside table and took the key out. “That’s my good girl.” He smiled now. She unlocked one and he grabbed the key to unlock the other. He flipped her with Mach speed and she moaned.

“I want to do that again.” She said. He didn’t respond, slowly rocking in and out of her. Her moans spilled freely. He sped up his pace, his hands bruising her hips as he held her down. “Close-“ She choked on her own words. The silence was killing her. She arched her back and clawed at his toned body when she came. Her vision blurring and her ears ringing. Her insides holding him tightly.

“That’s it, all for me babe.” He cooed. He reached to the bedside table and she groaned in protest. “I said you wouldn’t be able to walk.” He laughed, grabbing the vibrator wand to place on her clit. The overstimulation taking over her body. She squirmed around while he didn’t move, she was just filled with him and had her clit stimulated to the max.

She came again and he decided to move again, slowly, but torturously. “Too much.” She whined. They had a safe word if it got far enough, but she refused to use it. He ended up handcuffing her to the bed. Her hands holding the cuff chains for stability as he absolutely wrecked her body.

She came 2 more times on him before he finished inside her, he walls twitching from the feeling and he body arching so much it hurt. Her eyes filled with tears and whines spilling from her. “Never try to handcuff me again.” He whispered. He pulled out slowly with a pop and she shuddered, the emptiness grounding her back to reality.

She repeated pleas and agreed not to do it again. He cleaned her up and took the handcuffs off, the red marks prominent on both of their wrists. Her legs shaking uncontrollably as she rubbed her wrists.

“Maybe we can use these again.” He teased, putting them away along with everything else.

UM HELLO?!

@il0vereadingstuff @angelluv16 @pandabiiissh @kallanfiona @itznotsophia

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Vil Schoenheit: The Shape of You

Rollo voice) that witch is showing too much bare skin

I noticed that Vil sounds a lot gentler in his Relax in Room vignettes… Maybe he comes across that way when he’s not scolding someone 😭

Rise and Shine!

You stopped in Vil’s doorway, as if bound by a spell, transfixed at the sight of him.

He was a creature of beauty and grace, even in the earliest hours of the morning. Vil knelt upon his mattress, one leg raised behind him, toes pointing to the ceiling. The form reminded you of a gazelle with its sturdy antlers and pointed hooves.

His arms reached behind his head and, elbows bent, he locked his fingers together. A slow exhale as he stretched, releasing the tension that had built up in his body overnight. You saw a swan beating its wings, hear a song blowing free across a flowered clearing.

His arms straightened and swiveled to his front. He shifted to his other leg and foot.

Behind him, sunlight streamed in through a large window. The glass panes bore a lattice of diamonds, painting Vil’s bed with shards of color. His silken top hung loose, the muscles in his chest flexing beneath a layer of milky skin. He was haloed in gold, as if blessed by a godly being of beauty.

You felt like you’ve intruded on something sacred, seen something that you shouldn’t have. Vil’s me time. And more of Vil than you’d ever dreamed you’d be exposed to. Bashful at the thought, you peeled your eyes away.

A question, quiet but hard, rose from Vil.

“Are you certain that you’re fully awake? You still look dazed—like you’ve just woken up.”

“I-I’m awake!” you insisted (unconvincingly, if Vil’s furrowed brows were anything to go by).

Sighing, he drew himself out of bed and strode over. You strained to keep your eyes from trailing to places they didn’t belong. His face—you focused on it. Barren but beautiful, with a delicate pale pink mouth, a straight nose, shapely arches for brows, and long wispy lashes.

You were so lost in him that you almost missed what he was saying.

“Join me for my morning stretches,” Vil advised. “It will do you some good—it gets the blood pumping and helps with circulation. That should help you properly wake up your body.”

“If you think that’ll help… How should I get started, teach?”

“Well,” he replied with a faint laugh, “it seems you’ve still got the energy to be cheeky with me.”

With one hand, Vil gestured for yours. You sheepishly offered it, then the other when he motioned again. The areas where he made contact seemed to tingle and burn, as though his very touch was toxic.

He was, you realized, standing close to you. Maybe too close.

His front flush with your back, you could feel the heat radiating off of him. Just a step, and you'd crash right into him, his heart slamming into your skin and bones. Collison with a wave of poison, dressed up nicely in a shapely perfume bottle.

You swallowed nervously.

“Assuming the correct posture is important. We wouldn’t want to pull or strain a muscle,” Vil explained, guiding you through the motions.

One arm was extended, palm up. The other laid perpendicular on the back of the elbow. Then extended arm closed like the jaws of a beast, and you could feel a pressure building where it clamped down.

“Hold that for fifteen seconds, then switch to the other side and do the same. I will show you the next stretch after that.”

The instructions flitted against your ear, setting your stomach churning. It was like you had swallowed an entire jar of butterflies which swarmed in your gut. You tried to bat them down, tried to ground your thoughts before they floated away again.

“Y-Yes, I understand, thank you.”

“Do you?” Vil smirked. “My, what a fast learner. If only all my students were this obedient, I would have far less grief."

He pressed a quick peck to your temples. You burned, body going slack from the shock. So much for stretching.

Vil only chuckled as he pulled back, brushing slender fingers along your shoulders. "Now then, no time to dawdle. There's another day awaiting us, sweet potato."

[yawnderu]

hello!! big fan of bimbo!reader and simon, i love them so much. i imagine them having a gym they go to together and while simon is doing his workout, getting hella into it, he looks over and bimbo!reader is always just kind of playing on her phone while sitting at a machine legs swinging. or we just follow ghost around so we can stare at his big sweaty muscles for the whole hour. bimbo!reader def makes going to the gym an experience, has to wear a cute lil outfit with her matching water bottle, etc. i’m at the gym writing this 🥲🥲

HII lovely!! thank you so so much<333 answering this along with your other ask!! omg with my last ask, i feel like simon enjoys watching bimbo reader get hot on at the gym. when she turns down goes, she points over to her big buff bf 🥰🥰

The princess treatment applies everywhere. Simon racks and unracks the weights for you, sometimes even adding his own to complete sets after you.

It never fails to amuse him how you can casually do his PR on leg extensions, perfectly manicured nails holding your phone, the strawberry charm he bought you dangling from it.

He doesn't fail to notice how you keep staring at him when you think he's too focused on his workout, muscles bulging out from his tight, black compression shirt every time he lifts the heavy weights. He sometimes gives you a side eye, a small smirk pulling on the corners of his lips at the fact that you're staring so hard.

He's not bothered by it, it's actually quite the opposite— he feels proud of working so hard, keeping his body strong to protect you, and he knows you'll be praising his muscles once you're both back home. He's already aching to feel your long acrylics run down his skin gently, squeezing at the muscle.

Pretty little thing like you, wearing a lovely pink outfit matching with your water bottle. He can't stop himself from staring as you warm up, looking at the way your shorts hug your curves, sports bra exposing most of your back now that the pump cover has been discarded. He watches with amusement as a guy comes up to you, trying to strike conversation.

“Hey, beautiful.” Your face scrunches up before turning around, trying your best to give him a small smile and not look disgusted at the idea of anyone other than your Simon flirting with you.

“Taken.” You point towards Simon, your face lighting up as he makes eye contact with you before turning to stare at the guy, raising an eyebrow. He doesn't even have to make himself more brooding— his size itself is enough for the other guy to simply turn away without saying a word, going to another corner of the gym to finish his workout.

Simon's brown eyes are fully focused on you as you walk to him, standing on your tip toes to give his cheek a soft kiss.

“I'll spot for you, Si.” He doesn't need a spot, yet having you watching him has always made him reach a new PR each time. Anything to impress his angel.

Bimbo!Reader Masterlist

[sturnlsstuff]

TEASING GHOSTFACE!MATT THROUGH THE CAMERA.

[smut, masturbation]

matt's room was cloaked in darkness, save for the faint glow of the monitor in front of him, casting an eerie light on his face. his skin burned with the heat of his focus, his gaze locked in your every move. every inch of matt taut with the need to bridge the space between you two, but he was too mesmerized and hard to move, so all he could do was watch.

a heat crept through you as your fingers run along your slick folds, a quiet gasp falling from your lips. the desire you felt was bigger than ever, mostly caused by the awareness of matt watching you. he was always watching, sometimes making you cover the camera that was between your books on the shelf opposite your bed, but other times, in moments like these, you took advantage of him being able to see you— and you made him lose his mind.

it should've made you nervous, but instead, it made you feel alive. the confidence you had at that moment made power surged through your veins, a dark little secret shared between you two. matt was craving, desperate to consume every inch of you, and you feel it, that undeniable pull— his hunger, his obsession. and you were feeding it.

your gut is raveling with the growing pleasure, your fingers circling your dripping entrance, legs spreading wider to be on full display for him. a small whimper leaving your lips, making matt groan as his hand was already working on his hard length, his pulse throbbing in his ears, the rhythm of his breathing unsteady.

he strokes himself slowly, matching your teasing, his blue eyes locked on the monitor just as you push two fingers inside your pussy. matt's grip on the armchair tightened as he watches you pumping your fingers in and out. you were so wet that he was able to hear it even through the computer as you continued.

"oh my god, matt... wish it was you touching me right now—" you choke out, circling your clit with the other hand. your eyes squeezed shut, there was no point in guessing of who you were thinking about, since it was pretty obvious.

he moans after hearing your words, the pink hue tinting his cheeks, his hand moving faster now, more desperately. his thumb brushes over the head of his cock, his grip tightening as he starts pathetically bucking his hips in rhythm with the growing ache in his stomach. "fuck, sweetheart... drivin' me crazy..." he growls just as you whimper his name again. the power you had over him made the lust burn hotter, more insistent. he keeps fucking his hand, not being able to look away from the monitor, his shirt between his teeth to muffle his noises.

"mmhp— so good—" another desperate whine leaving your lips as you curl you fingers, hitting your g-spot and making your toes curl. you bend your knee, your back arching up, exposing yourself to matt even more and giving him a better look.

"oh, shit, gonna... gonna make me cum..." his voice hoarse, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. he throws his head back, but his eyes still remain on the computer, not wanting to lose any second of watching you, his hips constantly moving upwards as he continues jerking off. you move your fingers deeper and faster, completely unaware of matching his movements, your jaw hanging low, eyebrows knitted together in pleasure.

"m-matt, i... i'm so close—"

"come f'me, sweetheart, c'mon...." he mutters to himself, his dick twitching in his grasp. "f-fuck, keep... keep going..."

it's definitely a sight, the way you're fucking yourself on your fingers, your gummy walls sucking them in, the other hand circling your swollen bud. but it's when he hears your next words that he loses the last control he had.

"thinking of your cock deep inside me— miss this... miss you— fuck, please—"

a loud groan leaving his lips, his chest heaving, "shiiiittt—" he chases his release, his movements erratic. there's a moan of your name leaving his lips just as cum spurts out of his cock, painting his skin.

"need to... feel you— please, matt—" you cry out just as your legs start to tremble, your pussy throbs. you're completely a mess, the pleasure that overcomes you is so intense that it leaves you gasping for air. you try your best not to close your legs as you start creaming around your fingers, letting him see everything, your fingers moving in the same pace as you work yourself through your orgasm. "fuck, i can't..." your legs automatically close, your hips lifting from the bed to start grinding against your hand.

for the next moment, both rooms are filled with heavy breathing, the air around you thick. both of you breathless, his skin burning with the ache of want, his chest tightened with a raw, possessive need— matt couldn’t just watch anymore. he needed to be there, to close the distance, to feel you under his hands as always.

"little fuckin' tease," he pants, and sends you a short message.

your phone buzzed just as you come down from your high, pulling your covered in slick fingers out of your pussy. you reach for the device blindly, still trying to come down to earth after the release you just had.

matt 🥷🏻🔪 ;

Gonna be there in 10 leave your doors unlocked

divider credits. @anitalenia

taglist: @certifiedstarrr @chrislovespepsi @le4hsblog @sturnsxbitvh @sweetlikesug4rvenom @xaristhings @mattsfavbitchhh @lvrsturniolo @r0s3luvr @slut4brunettes @madisonsturnioloss @chrispillowprincess @sturnioloslutttt4 @ashlishes @mattsbitchh @hi-people-who-are-alive @stellward123 @inssanely @matts-girlfriend @imnotalive420 @emely9274 @shadowthesim @yunkilm @sophiaxsblog @namelesssav @demyackerman @fratbrochrisgf @lvrsturniolo @chrisweetheart @chrisfavoritewhore @sturnslutz @ncm9696 @certified-sturniolo @mattsobvimyfav @swagalicious260 @giannalovessturniolo @sophand4n4 @brazyturtleneck @jocelyncsblog @sophand4n4 @giannalovessturniolo @alesturniolos @ilovenmcs @seluky10 @chriss-slutt @ribbonlovergirl @icrazy106 @izzylovesmatt @trevorsgodmother @sturniolo101 @starstrucktyrantinfluencer

[rmadridcore]

Beyond the Line

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé x Reader

Summary: You and Kylian enter a friends with benefits arrangement, but as the connection deepens, you struggle to keep your emotions in check.

Word Count: 7.4K

Warning: Smut! (Minors DNI)

Author’s Note: I’ve had this idea for a while and intended to make it a two part series but I couldn’t stop writing when I started lol 😭 so she’s a long one. Hope you enjoy it, lmk what you think 🤍

There’s a strange kind of pleasure in a bit of toxicity. To a point, at least. It doesn’t always make sense, but sometimes, the undeniable physical chemistry makes sacrificing peace of mind worth it. The fire, the intense connection, can outweigh all the flaws in the relationship.

The way Kylian’s tongue traced your folds made all the buried, unresolved feelings seem worth it. He had his head nestled between your thighs, quite literally his favorite place to be, while your hands gripped his head as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. His other hand cupped and massaged your breast with a mix of urgency and affection.

“Kylian, fuck!” you screamed, your toes curling as his tongue worked with relentless speed, flicking and teasing you in a way that made your mind blur with pleasure.

The sounds of his slurping filled the room, shameless and loud, but neither of you cared. His occasional moans vibrated through your body, reminding you that you were indeed still on a bed and not floating on some euphoric cloud. Not that you minded. This euphoria was exactly where you wanted to stay for as long as possible.

Throwing your head back, you let out a whiny moan as his tongue explored your most private parts, licking, teasing, and driving you wild. Wet, hot, and pink — just the way he loved it. His nose pressed roughly against your clit as his fingers curled inside you, reaching those spots that made your toes curl even tighter.

The sounds spilling from your lips were raw and unholy, but you couldn’t find an ounce of shame in yourself, and neither could he. In fact, he seemed to thrive on it. His hand moved down from your breast to part your throbbing folds, exposing your sensitive clit even more to his skilled, relentless tongue. You wanted to ask him if anyone had ever told him how magical his tongue was, but the words refused to form. Your mouth was far too busy letting out gasps and cries.

“Please,” you managed to mutter, your voice strained, your eyes rolling back as the pleasure surged through you.

For Kylian, it wasn’t just the taste of you that drove him — it was the sounds you made. The way you screamed his name, whimpered in desperation, and begged for release drove him wild. He lived for it. He craved those sounds just as much as he craved the taste of you. Each moan and breathless gasp only pushed him to dive deeper, his tongue working more feverishly against you, wanting to make you shatter beneath him.

He curled his fingers inside you, pressing against that spot that made your entire body tremble. His tongue stayed focused on your swollen clit, flicking in perfect rhythm, and you could feel the familiar tension building, your body ready to unravel.

“I’m so close,” you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Hold on just a little longer,” Kylian mumbled against you, the words muffled but clear, the vibrations from his voice only intensifying the pleasure. “I need you to hold on for me.” He wasn’t ready to let go yet. He wanted to savor every second of this, knowing it might be a while before he could taste you again.

“I can’t, Kylian… I need to cum,” you whimpered, your voice desperate, your body on the edge of release.

Finally, he relented, his voice soft yet commanding. “Let go, beautiful. Come for me.”

That was all it took. His words, combined with the pace of his fingers and tongue, sent you tumbling over the edge, and your body obeyed. Your back arched off the bed, his name tearing from your throat as your body shook with release. Your hands gripped the headboard, desperate for something to hold on to as he licked you through your orgasm, not missing a drop of your pleasure.

Gasping for air, you collapsed back onto the bed, your body feeling light and deliciously weak. Kylian, ever the greedy lover, drank in every last bit of your release like it was his favorite drink — because to him, it was.

You coughed lightly, your throat overworked from all the screaming and grunting. You hadn’t even noticed when Kylian laid next to you, his head propped on his hand as he admired your flushed, blissed-out face.

As you lay there, your heart still racing from the intensity of the moment, you felt a mix of bliss and vulnerability wash over you.

Kylian shifted to rest his head on your chest, listening to the rapid beat of your heart. “Can you kiss me now?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence that enveloped you.

He lifted his head, a faint smile forming on his lips that made your stomach flutter. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?” he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You rolled your eyes, half-amused and half-exasperated. “I just had the best orgasm of my life, and you’re worried about a kiss?” His laughter filled the room, warm and infectious.

“You make a fair point.” He leaned down, pressing his lips against yours, and the kiss felt electric. The taste of you lingered, mingling with the sweetness of the moment. As the kiss deepened, you felt the world fade away, leaving just the two of you in your little bubble of intimacy.

Kylian pulled back slightly, searching your eyes. “You know, moments like these make all the chaos worthwhile,” he said softly. You nodded, a smile spreading across your face.

“Absolutely. But you do realize you’re lucky I’m still coherent enough to appreciate this moment, right?” Kylian chuckled, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ll take my victories where I can get them.” There was a pause, and you could see a flicker of something serious in his eyes.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” he said, his voice sincere. “I’m really grateful for you.” The weight of his words settled in the space between you. You had grown so accustomed to the playfulness, the light teasing, that this sudden shift felt scary.

“Kylian,” you began, feeling a swell of emotions. “I—” Before you could finish your sentence, Kylian’s phone buzzed on the nightstand, interrupting the moment. You both sighed in unison, a knowing look passing between you.

“Always a distraction,” he muttered, reaching for his phone, but you could see the hint of annoyance in his eyes.

“It’s the team,” He said, you watching as he glanced at the screen.

“Duty calls, huh?” you said with a teasing smile, trying to keep the mood light.

“Unfortunately,” he said, giving you an apologetic look. “But don’t worry, I won’t let it take me away from you for long.” He leaned in and gave you another quick kiss before reluctantly sitting up and pulling away.

You watched as he answered the call, his demeanor shifting to the focused, determined athlete you knew he could be.

As he spoke on the phone, you leaned back against the pillows, observing him with a mixture of admiration and affection. The way he transformed from the playful lover to the focused athlete was mesmerizing. It was like watching a switch flip — he was all business now, his voice steady and professional.

He paused to glance back at you, and for a moment, he seemed lost in thought, as if he were trying to gauge your mood. You flashed him a playful smile to remind him you were still there, even if his mind was somewhere else entirely.

“I’ll be done in a minute,” he said, his tone lighter now, as if sensing your amusement.

You shrugged. “Take your time. I’ll just be here, contemplating my life choices.” He chuckled, clearly fighting off a grin.

“I don’t think you need to contemplate anything. You’re the one keeping me grounded.”

“Grounded?” you teased. “I thought I was just a pleasant distraction.”

“You are, but a necessary one,” he replied, winking before returning to his conversation.

When he finally hung up, he flopped back onto the bed beside you, the tension of the call still visible in his shoulders. “Well, that was refreshing,” he said sarcastically.

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “Next time, try not to sound so enthusiastic.”

“It’s a tough life, okay?” he replied, a cheeky smile spreading across his face.

“You know,” you began, feeling a warmth spread through you as you spoke, “for someone who just dealt with a chaotic work call, you look remarkably unscathed.”

He laughed softly, glancing over at you with a playful smirk. “Well, I do have my charm to rely on.” You rolled your eyes, but there was no hiding your smile.

“Charm? Is that what we’re calling it? More like a mix of sheer talent and good looks.”

“Don’t forget charisma,” he chimed in.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Oh, please. With that kind of self-promotion, you could start your own fan club.”

“You think I’m not already the president of my own fan club?” He grinned, clearly enjoying the banter.

“You’re my only member, and I’m the only one who attends the meetings.”

“Sounds like a party,” you teased, nudging him again.

As laughter faded into a comfortable silence, Kylian turned serious, his expression softening as he gazed at you.

“Stay tonight.” his voice broke the silence, the words hanging in the air between you like an unspoken promise. A warmth spread through your chest at his invitation. It was no secret that he wanted you to spend the night with him every time you two found yourselves tangled in each other's arms; he just didn’t say it outright all the time. But the way he hesitated, how he seemed to hold back from asking you to stay during those other moments, was painfully obvious.

“I have to pack,” you replied, feeling the disappointment settle in both your hearts.

You did spend the night at his place sometimes. Those cozy, late-night moments where everything felt perfect. But other times, you pulled away, creating space to keep things from becoming too routine. You were cautious, wary of the feelings that might arise if you blurred the lines completely. Tonight, you felt the urge to retreat, to maintain that sense of independence. But also, you really had to pack.

Kylian nodded, trying to mask his disappointment with a soft “Okay.” His tone was casual, but you could see right through him; he was the worst liar when it came to you.

You and Kylian had met a little over a year ago at a mutual friend’s birthday party. Both of you single, bold, and carefree, it felt like fate had tossed you together for one wild night of fun. That night had sparked a connection that neither of you expected, leading to a heated encounter that was meant to be a one-off. But universe, as it often does, had other plans.

You both bumped into each other again at an event weeks later, and just like that, you found yourselves leaving together, the chemistry undeniable. After that, you met up again — hooking up once more, and then again. It quickly became a whirlwind of intimate moments, and before you knew it, you were trapped in a confusing, exhilarating, and somewhat unhealthy situation.

Neither of you had been looking for anything serious. The idea of adding the complexities of a relationship, emotional entanglements and responsibilities, was daunting. A casual arrangement, marked by good sex whenever the mood struck, was enough for both of you.

You both understood how these things worked. Friends with benefits could turn into a mess of emotions if you weren’t careful. So, from the very start, you had made it a point to set rules. You were both adept at laying down those guidelines, but when it came to following them? That was another story entirely.

The first rule was simple: never spend the night at each other’s places. The routine was supposed to be straightforward: come over, fuck, leave. That worked for the first two months. But then came that one night at Kylian’s house, just after you’d finished with each other.

It was around 1 AM, and the weather decided to show its worst side with a downpour so fierce, it made the idea of driving home seem ridiculous.

“Stay here,” he insisted, not wanting you to risk the storm. You hesitated at first, knowing it was against the rules, but the thought of driving through that weather wasn’t appealing either. He even offered you the guest bedroom, or suggested he sleep there and let you take his bed, but somehow that felt even weirder than just sharing the bed. So, you stayed. That was the night you crossed the first line. After that, spending the night became more frequent. Kylian was always coming up with excuses for you to stay over.

“The wind is crazy tonight.”

“I heard on the radio that driving after 10 PM isn’t safe.”

“My bed is way more comfortable than yours.”

Some excuses were ridiculous, but sometimes, you caved. Other times, you resisted, determined not to let the sleepovers become routine.

The next rule? Never cancel plans for each other. You both agreed that altering your daily lives just to meet up would mean things were getting too serious. A casual fling didn’t need that kind of effort. But Kylian broke that rule after just two weeks, without you even knowing.

He canceled a dinner with friends, just because a single text from you asking if he was free to hang out was enough to make him ditch his plans. You found out the next time he did it, when he skipped playing paddle with his trainer because a night with you seemed more appealing. You were angry, angry that he broke the rule, but he shut you up with a kiss that made the argument melt away.

After one of your usual, passionate sessions, you told him how canceling plans for each other wasn’t good for what you had. He promised he wouldn’t do it again. And, unsurprisingly, he didn’t keep that promise. To be fair, you didn’t either. You found yourself rescheduling a meeting for work, or canceling a shopping day with friends just to be with him. You both bent the rule when it suited you.

Then there was the no-gifts rule. It seemed harmless enough. No exchanging gifts. Too personal, too intimate. But that rule was thrown out the window on your birthday. Kylian surprised you with a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a stunning necklace. You wanted to be mad, to call him out for breaking the rule, but how could you? He made you so happy, and the thoughtfulness behind his gift warmed your heart more than you cared to admit. So, instead of scolding him, you simply said, “Thank you,” and asked him not to do it again.

But then you broke that rule too. When his birthday came around, you couldn’t resist getting him something. You reasoned with yourself — it was just a birthday, an exception to the rule. But then, Kylian took it further. He came to your house one evening with a piece of artwork he’d purchased, saying, “It reminded me of you.”

That felt too much, too intimate. You argued, trying to convince him to take it back, but after a long discussion, you agreed to keep it — on the condition that he wouldn’t buy you anything like that again. He promised, but deep down, you both knew promises in this arrangement were flimsy at best.

But the most important rule, the one that should have been unbreakable, was not to fall in love. It was the first thing you both made clear: no strings attached meant no feelings. If either of you started to develop emotions beyond the physical, whatever you had would end immediately.

It seemed obvious at the time, the easiest rule to follow. Yet, strangely, it was the one rule you both avoided talking about. You’d discussed all the others, broke them, and argued over them, but the rule about love? That was taboo. Neither of you brought it up. Not once. And that silence was starting to scare you. Because the reason you didn’t talk about it was becoming more obvious. And that realization was growing more terrifying by the day.

You both lay in bed, the silence heavy with the weight of the upcoming separation. Neither of you wanted to move, wishing you could freeze time and stay in that warm, tangled cocoon of sheets. But reality beckoned. You had to leave; your business trip was looming, and tonight was your way of saying a temporary goodbye before you inevitably found yourselves back in the same bed the moment you returned.

Reluctantly, you got up, ignoring the loud, deep sigh that escaped Kylian’s lips. He didn’t say anything, but his frustration was palpable. You gathered your things, slipping into your clothes while he remained on the bed, motionless, watching you with a silent longing.

“You still don’t know when you’ll be back?” he asked, his voice breaking the silence as you put on your shoes.

You shrugged, not meeting his gaze. “I’m not sure. I’ll be back once all the new projects are presented to the partners. Could be a week. Maybe two.”

“Or more,” he added, his tone flat, eyes cast down. He wasn’t looking at you, but the unspoken tension between you was clear.

You sighed, trying to keep your voice light but failing. “I don’t know, Kylian. I’d rather stay too, but it’s work. I have to go. It’s not like I have a choice.” You walked over to the bed, standing beside him.

Kylian understood more than most about having a demanding schedule. He knew that you had to leave, that your career required it. But that didn’t make it any easier. It still bothered him — this unknown stretch of time without seeing you. The part that stung the most? He wasn’t allowed to be upset. He wasn’t your boyfriend. He wasn’t even your friend. He was just the guy you were sleeping with. You didn’t owe him anything. No explanations, no reassurances, no promises. And that bitter realization twisted in his chest, an uncomfortable weight he had to carry in silence.

“I’ll be very busy in the coming days, so…” You trailed off, the familiar excuse slipping from your lips, and Kylian knew exactly what was happening. You always did this when one of you had to travel — distancing yourself, cutting down on communication. He never fully understood why. But, as always, he went along with it, knowing he didn’t have the right to object.

“Sure. Busy,” he replied, his voice flat, resigned. You nodded, a silent understanding passing between you, both knowing there was nothing more to say.

“Thanks for tonight. You always give me the best goodbye gifts,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. You leaned down, giving him a quick peck on the lips before turning away.

Kylian watched you leave, the sound of the door clicking shut behind you echoing in his mind. You never looked back. You never did.

For the past year, he had felt an undeniable, deep connection with you. Something special, something he couldn’t quite put into words. And with every passing moment, that connection only grew stronger, wrapping around him like invisible chains, pulling him deeper into feelings he had promised himself he’d never have.

Kylian knew it was wrong. He knew he wasn’t supposed to feel like this, wasn’t supposed to let his emotions blur the lines of your arrangement. But he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t bring himself to walk away, even though he knew that’s what he should do.

The truth was, he liked spending time with you — far more than he liked spending time with anyone else. With you, he could be himself, completely. He didn’t have to put on the mask he wore for the world. He could be his silly, carefree self, making jokes and laughing without worrying about expectations. You listened to him, truly listened. You were compassionate, attentive, and never judged him. You offered him a kind of support that he hadn’t realized he needed until it was too late. He liked you. More than he should. And that terrified him.

It didn’t take long for Kylian to realize that his feelings for you went far beyond casual. When he first started sleeping with you, his intentions were simple: have fun, let off some steam, enjoy the company of someone as lovely and attractive as you. But the more he got to know you as a person, the more he craved your presence. It wasn’t just about the sex anymore, even though the sex was incredible. Mind-blowing, even. But sometimes, all he wanted was to sit with you, have a conversation, and just… be. He liked being around you. And that was the problem.

He wasn’t supposed to want more than just physical connection. You weren’t meant to be his confidante, his comfort, his… something more. But the rules were clear. He wasn’t allowed to spend time with you unless one of you was horny. So, he made sure to milk every moment he could, stretching out the time you spent together. He clung to the small, fleeting moments between, lingering in bed just a little longer, turning every touch, every laugh into something he could carry with him when you weren’t around.

And every time you left, he felt the weight of what he wasn’t allowed to have settle deeper in his chest.

The day had been impossibly long, overwhelming, and exhausting. Your flight was a nightmare — an older man seated behind you had snored the entire time, depriving you of any chance to rest. Once you landed, there was no time to recover; you had to change quickly and head straight to a series of meetings. With the barely-there sleep you had gotten the night before, combined with the stress of work, the day felt like one continuous obstacle.

The meeting dragged on for almost three hours, filled with repetitive questions that forced you to repeat yourself over and over. By the time it was over, all you wanted was to collapse into bed. But then your colleague asked for help with some documents, and you couldn’t bring yourself to say no. You felt bad, knowing no one else could assist her. So, despite your exhaustion, you pushed through.

Finally, after what felt like an endless day, you made it to your hotel room. The idea of slipping into a warm, bubbly bath was the only thing keeping you from falling apart. Once you submerged yourself in the soothing water, the tension in your muscles slowly began to fade. The pounding headache that had followed you throughout the day finally started to dissipate.

It was in moments like this, quiet, peaceful moments, when you craved Kylian’s presence the most. He had a way of making everything better, almost like a superpower. From the moment you met him, there had been something magnetic about his charisma. One night stands weren’t usually your thing, but fresh off a breakup and in high spirits at that party, you found yourself unable to resist his charm and that disarming, handsome smile.

At first, it was just sex. Fun, uncomplicated, no strings attached. But as the weeks went by, you discovered there was so much more to Kylian than just his natural charisma or his beautiful face. As he got comfortable with you, he began to show his true self — funny, silly, adorable, loud, but in all the best ways. He was someone you wanted to be around all the time. He loved making people laugh, especially you, and his energy was infectious. For all his fame and allure, Kylian was surprisingly simple and humble. A young man with a great sense of humor and an even bigger heart.

Being around him felt effortless. Too effortless. And that was where the danger lay. You liked him more than you should. You liked him more than you were willing to admit, even to yourself. He was far more than a fling to you. You couldn’t help but think about him in moments like this, alone in a quiet hotel room, wishing you were resting on his firm chest, his fingers tracing soft patterns on your forearm like he always did. But those were thoughts you would never dare to share with him.

The fear of commitment was tricky. It often masked itself as self-preservation, convincing you that it was the rational thing to do, the safest option to avoid heartache. But deep down, you knew it was an insecurity, a fear that you would drive Kylian away if you got too close.

Rationally, you knew he wouldn’t hurt you, at least not intentionally. But the thought of falling for him, of starting an official relationship, only for him to realize it was a mistake, that he didn’t have time for you, or worse, that he couldn’t love you enough, was terrifying.

So, you did what you thought was necessary. You distanced yourself. You limited the time you spent with him, avoiding the temptation to stay over at his house too often. You tried not to contact him when either of you were away. You set boundaries for yourself, hoping they would protect you from falling deeper into the trap.

But leaving him? That was something you couldn’t do. No matter how unhealthy the situation became, no matter how much it hurt to be stuck in this emotional limbo, you couldn’t bear the thought of Kylian not being a part of your life. So, you settled for what you had. You convinced yourself it was enough, even though deep down, it wasn’t.

And that made you angry. Furious, even. How had you let this happen? What had started as a simple arrangement, had spiraled into something messy, confusing, and undefined. You didn’t even know what to call this… relationship. If you could even call it that.

But more than anything, you were mad at yourself. For wanting more. For feeling something you promised yourself you’d never feel.

The next few days passed in a blur of normalcy, albeit overwhelmed by work. Every time the pressure mounted, stress levels shooting through the roof, it became increasingly tempting to pick up the phone and call Kylian. Not for the usual reasons, where one of you would call the other when traveling to satisfy more physical needs, but simply to hear his voice. To rant about your day, to complain, to let it all out. To have Kylian on the other end, soothing you, telling you that everything would be okay.

The temptation grew harder to resist, but you held out. You had to. This was the boundary you had set for yourself, the one thing that kept you in control.

Until you couldn’t anymore.

It was a Thursday — possibly the worst Thursday in the history of Thursdays. The day began disastrously when you somehow managed to turn off your alarm in your sleep, making you thirty minutes late for your breakfast meeting. And, of course, there was no time to actually have breakfast once you arrived, forcing you to move straight into business on an empty stomach.

You told yourself you’d wait for lunch to eat, but lunch never came. The meeting that was supposed to happen the next day was moved to today, meaning no time for food once again.

Then came the race back to the office, where you had to prepare for a presentation on your latest project. Things seemed to calm down for a moment, just long enough for you to breathe, until someone in the foyer spilled a piping hot cup of coffee all over you. The scalding liquid nearly burned your collarbone and left an awful stain on your white shirt.

With no change of clothes and the presentation about to begin, you had no choice but to stand in front of everyone in a half-white, half-brown shirt, your stomach growling, your mind frazzled, and your nerves hanging by a thread. The awkward stares from your audience only made things worse, and by the end of the day, you felt utterly defeated.

By the time you returned to your hotel room, you had finally eaten something, but the headache and stress still vibrated through every inch of your body.

It was all too much. You needed to let it all out.

No matter how risky or wrong it felt, you needed to call Kylian.

With shaky hands, you dialed his number, one you had memorized long ago from how many times you typed it, only to delete it before pressing "call." This time, though, you pressed it.

Your heart raced as the phone rang, your breath catching in your throat. You had spoken to Kylian over the phone countless times, but this felt different. This time, you weren’t calling for a casual chat or for some playful teasing. You were calling because you needed him. You needed to hear his voice.

And that terrified you.

You stared at the phone screen as it rang, trying to come up with a good excuse for why you were calling him. The line connected, and before you could figure out what to say, Kylian picked up.

“Hello?” His voice was groggy, thick with sleep, sounding both confused and concerned. You realized immediately that you had woken him up.

“I’m sorry, Kylian. Were you sleeping?” You glanced at the clock and cringed. It was 2 AM where he was. How had you not noticed that before?

“It’s fine. Really.” His voice softened, brushing away the inconvenience. “Are you okay?” There was a trace of worry now, like he could sense something was off.

You hesitated, feeling guilty for disturbing him. “Wait… how did my call even go through? Don’t you usually put your phone on Do Not Disturb when you sleep?” You remembered him telling you that the first night you stayed over at his place — he always put his phone on DND to ensure his body got the rest it needed.

There was a brief silence on the other end before he spoke. “I have a few contacts that still get through. My parents, my brother, my team, and… well, you. Just in case.” Your breath caught in your throat at his admission.

You wanted to ask why, to dig into why he thought of you as someone important enough to bypass his Do Not Disturb settings. But this wasn’t the time. The conversation was already teetering on the edge of being too vulnerable.

Kylian broke the silence again, his tone laced with concern. “Are you going to answer me? Are you okay?” You blinked, unsure of how to respond.

You had wanted to rant about your day, but now, waking him up like this made you feel selfish.

“Are you sure I shouldn’t call you back tomorrow? You need your sleep. Don’t you have training tomorrow?” You meant it, genuinely feeling guilty for disturbing him.

“Y/N,” he said firmly, but gently. “I don’t care about that. I care about you. Are you okay or not?”

His words hit you like a wave, and suddenly, you were fighting back tears. The tenderness in his voice, the way he prioritized you over his own needs, it tugged at something deep inside you. He was always like this, but hearing it now, in the middle of the night, made you want to cry. It also made you love him more.

No, you weren’t okay. You missed him. You wanted him with you. But you couldn’t say that. So, instead, you started telling him about your day, pouring out all the stress and frustration that had built up since the moment you’d landed.

You told him everything — about how overwhelming the trip had been, how tired you were, how bad today had gone. You described every detail of your nightmare of a Thursday, feeling a mixture of relief and exhaustion as you talked.

Through it all, Kylian listened patiently. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t rush you. He just hummed softly in response, encouraging you to keep going, making you feel heard in a way no one else could.

When you finally finished, you let out a deep breath, feeling lighter. Somehow, just telling him about your day made everything feel a little less terrible.

“I’m so proud of you,” Kylian said quietly, his voice sincere and full of admiration. The way he said it made your chest tighten with emotion.

“You’re handling so much, and you’re doing it with so much strength. I don’t know how you do it, Y/N.” His words brought tears to your eyes again, and for a moment, it felt like he was right there with you, whispering those words in your ear instead of through a phone.

You wiped at your eyes, overwhelmed by the genuine affection in his voice.

Without thinking, you let the words slip out. “I miss you, Kylian.”

There it was. Raw and unfiltered.

You hadn’t meant to say it, but now that you had, there was no taking it back.

Normally, you would have regretted being so vulnerable with him, afraid it would shift things between you. But this time, there was no regret. Just truth. Kylian’s voice softened even more, dripping with affection.

“Y/N, I miss you too, so much. I can’t wait for you to come back.” His confession hung in the air between you, adding an extra weight to the conversation. But despite the heaviness, his words brought a smile to your face, the kind of smile only he could bring out of you.

“Thank you for listening to my rant. And I’m sorry for waking you up,” you apologized, feeling guilty once more for disrupting his night.

“Don’t apologize. I’d rather talk to you than sleep. You know you can call me anytime.” His words made your heart swell, but the exhaustion from the day was catching up with you now.

“I think it’s time for me to get some sleep,” you said, stifling a yawn.

“Sweet dreams, beautiful,” he replied, the smile in his voice unmistakable.

“Goodnight,” you whispered before hanging up, sinking back onto the mattress.

As you lay there, you felt lighter, like the world had been lifted off your shoulders just from talking to him. But as the quiet settled in, a different kind of pressure began to creep in. What did that conversation mean for the two of you? Was it normal to call your fuck buddy in the middle of the night from another country, just to rant about your day? And for him to be so sweet, so gentle, so… perfect about it?

Probably not. And that scared you.

But despite the fear, one thing was clear — you didn’t regret it. Not even for a second.

Kylian knew when you were coming back. You’d texted him the day before your flight, and from the moment he read that message, he was over the moon. The two weeks without you had been anything but fun. In fact, every time you left, it felt like you took a piece of sunshine with you. To him, you were that — his sunshine. Someone who could brighten even the darkest days. And now, his sunshine was finally coming back.

A few hours after you landed, he sent you a text inviting you over for dinner at his place if you weren’t too tired. You hesitated at first, mostly because he told you it would be a normal, simple dinner — no sexual innuendo. That was the scariest part. He wasn’t just inviting you over for a casual night; this felt different. He was asking you on a date. Your first real date with Kylian.

You sat with your phone for a long moment, unsure. This wasn’t part of the arrangement, wasn’t part of the rules you’d set up for yourselves. But something deep inside you told you not to let fear ruin this moment. So, after a while, you agreed.

When you arrived, he opened the door with a tablecloth casually thrown over his left shoulder.

“Don’t tell me you cooked?” you said after hugging him, eyes wide with disbelief.

He let out a laugh, flashing you that charming grin. “Well, I tried.” There was a mix of pride and nervousness in his voice, as if he wasn’t quite sure whether to brag or apologize.

He led you into the dining room, where the table was set for two. The fork and knife were oddly placed, and you quickly realized he had been the one to set the table.

With a chuckle, you switched the positions of the knife and fork. “You know not everyone’s left-handed, right?” you teased as he walked back in with the meal.

He blinked, then giggled, scratching the back of his head. “Oh, right. Sorry about that.”

You both sat down, the dish looking delicious, but there was a part of you that was still unsure. Kylian noticed you eyeing the plate cautiously.

“Aren’t you hungry?” he asked, frowning when he saw you weren’t making a move to eat.

You bit your lip, feeling guilty for what you were about to say. “Um… Kylian, I really appreciate that you cooked, but… are you sure this won’t give me food poisoning?” You winced, giving him a sheepish look.

He gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. “How dare you! Are you saying I’m not a good cook?” He pretended to be offended, his wide eyes full of playful shock.

You couldn’t hold back a laugh, shaking your head.

Kylian chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I didn’t cook it.” He grinned sheepishly as you raised a brow in confusion.

“Wait, what?”

“I set the table and everything,” he admitted, “but I didn’t want to be the one responsible for poisoning you, so… I had it delivered.”

You let out a sigh of relief, giggling. Kylian was talented in many things, but you knew that the kitchen was definitely not one of them.

As you both started eating, Kylian filled you in on what he’d been up to while you were away, already knowing the details of your trip from that strange, middle of the night phone call a few days ago. He was animated as he spoke, catching you up on football news, funny moments with his teammates, and little updates from his life.

But even as you laughed and bantered back and forth, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this dinner was different. It wasn’t just two friends with benefits catching up. It was more. And that realization, while thrilling, also scared you.

“Y/N, I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” Kylian said suddenly, his voice tinged with an uncharacteristic nervousness. He was playing with the tablecloth, twisting it between his fingers as if trying to distract himself.

The wine you’d been sipping suddenly tasted dull. His words made you feel uneasy, and a knot of tension began forming in your stomach.

He pushed his chair back and moved closer, sitting right next to you. The shift in proximity sent a shiver down your spine. The distance that had been between you while you sat across from each other had felt safe. But now, with his body so close, the air between you felt charged, intimate. No matter how many times you had been physical with Kylian, these moments, the ones that went beyond the physical, always left you feeling raw and vulnerable.

He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about us,” he began, his voice softer now, more emotional. “Especially after our phone call the other night.”

Your pulse quickened. That call had crossed a line — one you had been careful not to approach for so long. But strangely, you hadn’t regretted it.

“Y/N, being around you…” He paused, his eyes searching yours. “It just feels right. You make everything feel… right. And I know you feel the same.”

He wasn’t wrong. Being with Kylian felt natural, like you both just fit. There was an ease, a connection that made sense, even if you’d spent so much time trying to ignore it. You knew it, and he knew it too. The problem wasn’t the way you felt about him — it was the fear of letting those feelings lead you somewhere you couldn’t control.

“We’re not the best at communicating, at least not with words,” he continued, his fingers gently twisting a lock of your hair around them. “We’ve both bottled up so much, avoided saying things we should’ve said. But there are some things that don’t need words. Some things you just feel.”

His point was valid, but that didn’t make it any less nerve-wracking.

“I can feel how much you love being with me. It’s not just about the physical connection. There’s something more between us, and pretending like it isn’t there… it’s been stupid. For both of us.” He exhaled deeply, his voice a little steadier now.

“I want to be with you, Y/N. And not just for sex. Don’t get me wrong, the chemistry we have is… incredible. But this? Us? It’s so much more than that.”

Your chest tightened, and you let out a quiet sigh, unsure how to respond. You’d spent so long keeping your feelings at bay, locking them away in a corner of your heart where they couldn’t hurt you. But now, Kylian was bringing them into the light, forcing you to confront everything you had tried so hard to avoid.

“I know you’re scared,” he said, his voice gentle but firm, his eyes holding yours.

That was the sentence that made you look at him, really look at him. You saw the vulnerability in his eyes, the reflection of your own fears mirrored back at you.

“I know you’re holding yourself back. And you’re right. If we do this for real, it could go wrong. It could get messy, complicated. We might end up in a situation that neither of us can fix.” He was saying everything you’d been afraid to admit, everything you had kept hidden.

“But none of those fears outweigh the fact that I want to call you my girlfriend.”

There it was. The label. The thing that terrified you more than anything else.

Labels were strict, limiting, confining. They carried expectations, and expectations could lead to disappointment. Yet somehow, when Kylian said it, when he looked at you with such sincerity, the idea of being in a committed relationship seemed a little less terrifying.

He wasn’t finished. “I want more with you. I want you to stay over without me having to come up with stupid excuses. I want to buy you gifts just to see you smile. I want to cancel plans because I’d rather be with you than with anyone else. I want to plan my life knowing you’ll be a part of it.” His voice was filled with emotion, raw and honest. “And I want to love you. Not just for your body, but for everything that makes you, you.”

His confession hung in the air, heavy with the weight of everything it carried. It was a tough moment for you. Every fear, every doubt you had wrestled with for so long was still there, whispering in the back of your mind. But somehow, Kylian made it all seem… easier. His words didn’t make the fears disappear, but they offered a sense of hope you hadn’t expected.

You reached up, cupping his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your palm. He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes briefly, as if savoring the connection.

“You’re right,” you said softly, your voice trembling slightly. “I am scared. I’ve been terrified this whole time. But… if there’s anyone I want to face my fears with, it’s you.”

Your words brought a huge smile to his face, a smile so genuine it made your heart swell.

He took your hand in his, lifting it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles before pulling you into his chest. You rested your head against him, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear.

His heartbeat was fast, matching the rhythm of your own. The irony wasn’t lost on you — you, the one who had insisted on following all the rules, were the one who had broken the most important one. And so had he. You were both rule-breakers now.

But for the first time in a long time, you didn’t care.

[yanderenightmare]

you didn't pay Toji his bounty, so now he's coming to collect, and BOY- when he sees YOU and how rich you live all expensive in your mansion and pretty clothes, you can take a wild guess how he's gonna have you pay

Toji Fushiguro

♡ TW: NSFW, noncon, derogatory nicknames, light bondage, spanking, implied breaking and entering

♡ fem reader

Rope eats into your flesh, keeping your legs shut, rendering you unable to do much of anything but hop about like a bunny if you were to try it. Looped tight around each plush thigh right in the crease of your buttcheek, squishing into the fat of your inner thighs to show your kitty in all its wet and swollen glory.

You whine while he pets the folds, simpering condescendingly at you, “Don’t cry, princess- I’m gonna fuck you soon, don’t you worry your pretty little tiara about that…”

You ball your fists as his fingers brutishly rub over your clit, biting your palms with your manicured nails where your wrists are bound together in a neat knot atop your back.

“Just gonna have some fun with you first...”

Toes curled in the plush powder-pink carpet below; you’re bent over the back of your white-leather sofa chair – hips pressed firmly against the spine for every hit his palm makes against your plump tush – branding one cheek before changing and repeating, making the perfect skin welt with his handprint. 

You yelp the first few times, but then you cry – not used to such cruelty, always having been kept all soft and safe – all previous boyfriends vanilla mommy’s boys, not like this beast.

Your knees grew weak beneath you, soon trembling. But he spared you no sympathy despite it – only cooing at you through a wicked grin, clearly mocking you while rubbing soothing circles into the sore flesh with greedy fingers digging into the dough.

You whine when the hand reaches between your thighs again, running over the wet and swollen folds before splitting them – sliding to your hole, then sending two fat digits right inside it. He stations the other hand on the small of your back to keep you still when he brutally starts pumping the tightness.

“Shit- so tight and wet from that-” He jeers, then slaps the soft mound. “You rich sluts are such freaks, ain’t ya-”

The sound of a belt unbuckling comes next, and then the heavy drop of his pants hits the carpet.

You shuffle, but you’re not going anywhere – and if you somehow could, you wouldn’t get very far.

“This is it, princess- the moment you’ve been waiting for,” He groans, lifting the fat of your ass cheek in one hand while pointing his round cockhead up to your twitchy coin-sized hole. 

Clicking his tongue at the pretty sight, he slid his length between your pussylips first – just to tease – fucking the little triangle between your thighs until he was properly bathed in your velvety slick.

You wiggle, but it doesn’t do you anything other than make him lick the teeth of his smile, nudging his tip into your taunt welcome.

Your fingers reach before curling into a pair of tremoring fists, shaking your head in dread at the intrusion, stomach twisting while whimpers escaped you – taking every thick inch of meat one slow second at a time. “Yea~” He laughs breathily, grinning at the sight of you grating your thighs. It was clear you weren’t used to the mass. “I bet that hurts- you’re tight like a fuckin’ virgin-”

He buries his hands in the cake of your ass for purchase, gripping it tight with a hiss while leaning over you – pushing himself as tight and deep as possible – feeling you throttle him while you whine at the stretch – bratty mouth stuffed with your own silk panties. 

You’re breathless once he bottoms out. No air and no sounds, just eyes squeezed tightly shut, seeing white spots – back tense and arched like a cat before dropping into a pretty slope, releasing a filthy wet mewl into your gag – standing on your tippy-toes with thighs shaking.

But the sting is nothing compared to when he starts thrusting – lolling his hips back slowly, letting you feel every ridge and vein drag along your walls, only to slam right back in – the force making the armchair you’re resting on jump forward. 

Kneading your ass, he uses the fat in his grip to pull you back on him – his hips slapping into you from behind – making you choke on it.

You should have fucking paid him – you think in regret once he starts the rhythm, quick and deep. Making you pant out like a dumb little bitch in heat, yelping every time it fucks just a little deeper, hitting someplace new and tender – discovering new places you never even knew existed before now, stimulating every little nerve begging for the attention.

He tangles a fist in your hair, lifting you up until your head rests on his shoulder – one sturdy hand balancing you by the hip whilst the other holds you up by the neck – making your tits strut forward, jumping as he continues to jut up into you.

“Just like that, ye? Fuckin’ stingy bitch-” He grunts in your ear. “Right inside that tight rich twat of yours.” 

He landed another slap to the sore flesh of your rear, making you tighten up even more – clenching so tight he had to sink his teeth into your shoulder to keep from nutting too soon. You smelled sweetly spicy – so expensive it made his eyes roll beneath his lids – spiking his movement even more, rutting against you.

You scream, the silky lace of your underwear gone completely wet in your mouth now, just a soggy ball you chewed between grit teeth – trying to will away the knot winding up so tight in your gut, needing release.

Your efforts bore no fruits – soon, something pulled you like a rubberband and snapped just the same, making you clench tight on the fatness stuffing you full, shaking as the feeling seized you.

“Fuck- look at yah- takin’ my cock like a proper little fuck-toy, hm? Cummin’ like a whore- not so prim and proper now, are yah?”

♡ FUSHIGURO TOJI masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[wizardinggirl]

The Snake & The Raven

Summary: It’s been 2 years since Severus confessed his sin to you, his deepest, darkest secret. After the initial shock and betrayal, you have forgiven him and now the two of you have gotten together. (With much approval from the headmaster. You were beginning to think this was his plan all along.)

Warnings: none

Go to the beginning here -> Prologue (1/2)

Last: Part 3

Part 4: Tea Time

Word Count: 2.8k

2 years later…

Severus had changed. It took him a long time to heal, and it took him far longer to forgive himself than it took you. You don’t think he will ever fully forgive himself. He felt responsible for Lily’s death and that her son was now an orphan in an awful muggle home. He would have been taken into the care of Sirius Black, but you didn’t want to think about him and what he’d done.

You had decided to stay on as a teacher at Hogwarts after the first few months when the Ministry asked when you would be returning. Of course you loved your job as an Auror and it had been hard work to get there, but being here to mold these witches’ and wizards’ minds was far more rewarding. Additionally, it was a preventative measure. If you were able to be a good influence to some potential future Dark Wizards/Death Eaters, then it was worth it.

“Marrow, fix your stance or Edward’s is going to knock you off your feet. We’ve talked about this.” You twirled your wand in your hand as you watched two of your students duel, ready to intervene if needed. You’d seen a lot in your two years at Hogwarts, and learned the hard way that when the young upstarts dueled that you needed to be ready for anything. The other students cheered and you turned the other cheek at the few that had bets going. It was a hard class, more work than leisure, so you let them have fun in it when they could. You wanted them to still enjoy the class, after all.

“Whoa!” Marrow went flying off the dueling table.

“Arresto Momentum!” You cast on your student, it slowed her down enough to where she was placed on the ground rather than slamming into it.

“Thank you, Professor.” The class laughed and others cheered as Edwards strutted around the table, his fists pumping in the air with victory.

“Alright, Edwards. Off the table, one point to Gryffindor.” There was more cheering from the members of the respective house and you smiled. You decided that whenever they would duel, to add even more stakes, the winner would gain one point for their house. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to give them a competitive edge. You made your way up the steps to your desk and faced the class.

“I’m sure we all saw what Marrow could have done differently.” There were giggles as the students took their seats. “Your stance is very important, not just in dueling. It can even affect other spells as well.” The bell rang as you finished your sentence. “Good job today, class. I will see all of your Monday.” The sounds of shuffling, books being put away and chairs scraping on the floor as the students left and some waved goodbye. As the last student left, a familiar shadowy figure strode through the door. “Hello, love.” You smiled as he approached.

“Good afternoon, Professor.” You raised a brow with a playful smirk when he was finally in front of you, raising lightly on your toes to peck his cheek.

“We’re far past ‘Professor’ when we’re alone, Severus.” A pink hue dusted his cheeks as he cleared his throat, keeping a neutral expression as he looked around the room to make sure there were no more students present.

“We are still on school grounds, y/n.”

“We’ve been on school grounds whe-” he shot you a look and you laughed. “Alright alright.” You tidied up your desk, pushed your chair in then went back to his side, leading him out of the classroom. “Let’s be off then, Professor.” You said the last part with a more suggestive tone as you nudged his arm with your own. He grumbled at you. As the two of you continued down the hall, Snape seemed more rigid and quiet than usual, and that’s his natural state. “Are you alright, Sev?” You asked sincerely, placing your arm on his as you walked. He looked down at you and gave the smallest twitch of a smile.

“I’m fine.” Then he turned his attention forward again. It wasn’t odd for him to deflect when you questioned him about his feelings, but something felt different about this time.

The two of you sat together at the professors’ table and quietly chatted like normal, but you could tell there was something off. You placed your hand on his thigh and he stiffened then relaxed. That was odd… you leaned over and sniffed. He leaned away, his head snapping to you with a shocked expression on his face.

“What are you doing?” You actually couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. You leaned back in your chair, your hand still resting on his thigh.

“I’m just making sure I didn’t smell any knotgrass or fluxweed on you.” You shrugged and took a sip of water from the cup in front of you.

“Why would I-” he paused, returning to his normal position then leaning slightly towards you. “Were you smelling for Polyjuice?” Your eyes looked at him then back to your drink and you shrugged letting out a ‘hmph’, setting your glass back down.

“Just making sure it was you.” He let out a sigh then took the hand that was on his thigh and placed it on your own, leaving his hand on top of it as you took a bite from your plate. He leaned in to whisper so only you could hear.

“I’ll prove to you it’s me tonight.” You nearly choked. Severus rubbed your back and patted it lightly as you coughed. You narrowed your eyes at him, but he was just giving you a concerned look. He had no idea what he just implied.

Later that night you and Severus were walking around Hogsmeade, enjoying the cool night air before your u had to be at the tea house. You’d chosen to wear a flowy dress with short puffed sleeves. It had a blue floral design on the body and pure white on the skirt and sleeves. Along with a simple silver chain that had a small sapphire set in the middle. Something Severus had gotten you, knowing your affinity for your house colors, as a thank you for being there for him. The two of you had been together officially for over a year now. You had told him you wanted the two of you to do something special together, nothing big, just special. But, both of you were so busy you hadn’t had the time until now. He had come to your quarters a few days prior with a look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place.

**flashback**

“Y/n?” His hand still on the doorknob and not leaving the threshold.

“Yes, Sev?” You make your way down the two steps from where your bedroom was and wrap your robe around yourself tighter. You had already changed into your nightgown and it was quite sheer. “You can come in.” His eyes scanned you from head to toe then he cleared his throat and looked the other way.

“I won’t be long.” He looks back to your eyes, you were directly in front of him now, him looking down at you. “I merely had a question to ask you.” you smiled and placed both hands on his abdomen, letting your robe open slightly.

“Well, you are always welcome to stay.” He gives you a closed lip smile and brings one of his hands to yours and squeezes it gently.

“I have some matters that need attending to. Someone’s been stealing from my inventory.”

“And you wanted my help?” You ask, smirking up at him. He deadpanned.

“No, I can handle it quite efficiently on my own thank you.” You let out a laugh.

“Then what is it you needed to ask me?” He was trying to keep his eyes from looking at your nightdress, a slight blush ghosting his cheeks.

“Are you available this weekend?” He moves his hand to tuck a stray hair behind your ear.

“I am, did you have something in mind?” You ask, straightening the front of his robe.

“We’ve been busy and haven’t been able to celebrate like you had wanted. I may not understand it, but if it means something to you it does to me. I’ve made reservations on Friday at Madam Puddifoot’s Tea House for us.” To say you were surprised was an understatement. Sure, he was romantic, but it was more in small gestures. A potion for a hangover or a snack if you looked peckish. There were those few times where he did pick you a flower, but that was pretty rare. He’d done nothing quite like this. You couldn’t help but tear up. His eyes widened and he cupped your face with his hands. “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to overstep. I just thought-” you shake your head and smile at him, wrapping your arms around his neck, his instinctively going to hold your waist.

“They’re happy tears, Severus. This is so sweet of you.” He blushes and looks away, affection and closeness was still something new to him. Something he was slowly warming up to. “It’ll be fun, I can’t wait.” His mouth turned into a closed lip smile as he looked back to meet your eyes. You lean up to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” You ask, raising a brow. He brings his hand up to cup your jaw and ran his thumb over your cheek.

“I want to, dear, but I should get to the bottom of this before the week’s end.”

“Alright then.” You press one more kiss to his lips before he pulls away.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, love.” He went to turn away, but stopped and faced you again, studying your face then leaned forward and kissed your forehead. You smiled up at him then his retreating form and closed the door.

**end of flashback**

The two of you walked into the tea house, a little bell ringing as Severus held the door open for you. Madam Puddifoot looks up from her current table and smiles, excuses herself from them then wipes her hands on her apron.

“Hello, hello, welcome. Come in, come in!” She ushers the two of you inside. “Mr. Snape, it’s good to see you again. I have the private tea room ready for you and your lovely lady.” You couldn’t help but smile at that. As she started leading the two of you up the narrow steps up to the second floor you looked up at Severus.

“Private room?” You asked, wiggling your eyebrows.

“You said you wanted something special.”

“I did.” You smile, he must have put a lot of effort into this. You followed Madam Puddifoot up the stairs. Severus put his hand on your lower back to make sure you didn’t fall backwards. You couldn’t help the way it made you tingle. Not only were the stairs narrow, they were fairly steep too. He wasn’t about to have the night ruined because of a nasty fall. After walking down a short hallway at the top of the stairs the Madam opened the double doors at the end of the hall.

“Here we are.” She steps aside to let the two of you in. “I’ll be back in a moment with a fresh pot of tea.” Severus guides you into the room and to your chair, pulling it out for you.

“Thank you.” You lean up to kiss his cheek then take a seat and he pushes your chair in for you. “Such a gentleman tonight.” You tease and he lets out a grunt in response as he takes his seat across from you. You laugh and take the napkin from the table and place it on your lap. “Truly, though.” You reach your hand across the table and place it on his. “This is lovely, Sev. Thank you.” He takes your hand and places a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

“You deserve the best.” He practically whispered. You smile brightly at him. He’s really laying on the charm tonight. The two of you sat there for a moment, enjoying each other's company while he watched as he ran his thumb over your knuckles, deep in thought. He let go of your hand and sat up straight when Madam Puddifoot came back into the room.

“Here we are.” You moved your arm out of the way as she filled both of your tea cups. When you looked back to Severus he was staring into his tea with that same look in his eyes that he had when he came to your room a few days ago. Almost as if he was unsure about something. “Please help yourselves to any of the sandwiches and pastries on the table there.” She motions to the long table on the wall to your right with a large assortment of goodies. “They were freshly made for you. If you need anything else, just ring the bell.” She exited the room and closed the doors gently behind her. Once she was gone you took a sip of your tea and hummed contently, closing your eyes.

“This is lovely.” When you opened your eyes, Severus was staring at you. “What?” You ask with a smirk on your face.

“I’m admiring.” He stated simply, then broke eye contact and took a sip of his own tea. You smiled to yourself and the two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a while. The two of you simply enjoyed each other's company. Eventually, you had gotten up and grabbed a plate of pastries for you and Severus. The two of you ate and chatted and about some of your students and about current events. When the two of you had your fill, you left, thanking Madam Puddifoot on the way out.

“Shall we head back?” You ask, arms lacing through his, leaning your head on his shoulder. He placed his free hand on yours.

“I have one more thing I would like to do.”

“Oh?” You ask, lifting your head to look up at him. “Lead the way.”

Severus led you to a concrete balcony that overlooked the highlands. It was dark now, the street lamps dimly glowing around you. The moon was full and the stars were twinkling, it was a gorgeous night. You let out a sigh and turn to face him to hug him around his middle.

“Thank you for such a wonderful date, Sev. It was perfect.” He looks down at you, bringing one arm to rest on your shoulder and the other to your cheek, you leaned into his touch. “I really do love you.” He stiffens at first then kisses the top of your head.

“I love you too.” He whispered into your hair. “I know I’m not worthy of it,” he lifts his head to look back into your eyes. “Or you.” You give him a sad smile then take his hands to hold them in between the two of you.

“Don’t say that, Severus. You’re more worthy than any man could ever be.” His eyes started to tear up at that. He searched your face for any sign of dishonesty, that maybe this was some long running joke that James and Sirius were pulling on him. There was no way someone so kind and loving was real. Not to him. He slowly sank in front of you to one knee, keeping your hands in his. “Severus?”

“I'm not the man that you deserve, y/n.” He turned his gaze to look at your hands in his and ran his thumbs over the back of them. “I’m stubborn, selfish, damaged, but you see the good in me, even when I cannot see it myself.” Your eyes began to water. Was this really happening? “Y/n.” He let go of your right hand and reached into the inside pocket of his robe to pull out a small velvet box. He looked at it for a moment before opening it and presenting it to you. When his eyes met yours again, he was the most sincere you had ever seen him. “I love you. I thought no one could ever love me, that it was simply my lot in life. But you showed me otherwise and pulled me from my darkness. You are my light. Will you marry me?”

Thanks for reading! If you’d like to be added to the tag list for the next chapter please let me know!

Next: Part 5

Tags: @lizard-zombie @liviacarol88-blog @johnmurphys-sass

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Kinktober Special Part 8

Mo’s Kinktober Special 

The Crew’s Whore (Part 8) (+18)

!!!!!!MINORS DNI!!!!

Summary: You are the former owner of the Grand Line’s most popular brothel. Your powerful fighting abilities got the attention of the captain of the Straw Hat Pirates. He had asked you to join their crew but what would you bring to the team? Your battle skills were hardly comparable to many of the other Straw Hats… but you actually had a great skill. Your years working as a high end escort had prepared you to become the private plaything for this pirate crew. You joined the Straw Hats as their personal sex toy.

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader

WC: 2600 lol

TWs: IT’S FOOT TIME! FOOT FETISH WARNING! Man I am not even into feet but this kinda did it for me. In my brain Law is canonically into feet in a weird way. Unprotected sex, p in v sex, table sex, alcohol consuption, toe sucking lmao, just fetish shit yeah.

——

The trip to the next island was turning out to be longer than anticipated due to poor weather. The Straw Hat pirates had allied themselves with now-warlord-of-the-sea Captain Trafalgar Law and were harboring him on their ship as they sailed towards the next part of their plan as an alliance. The weather had finally turned pleasant so of course Luffy ordered Sanji to prepare a huge feast, complete with piles of steaming food and barrels of cold booze. 

Eating and drinking were two of you favorite activities, second and third only to fucking, so you were thrilled at the prospect of a little party. No one had approached you yet and asked you for your time tonight, everyone being so busy setting up for the party and all… but you expected that to change as the night went on. Because you anticipated being taken for your services tonight, you took the time to bathe and clean yourself up a little extra nice. 

You curled your hair into soft waves and spent half an hour caking your face and painting your lips a glossy sheer crimson before heading to your closet and picked out an outfit. You settled on a flouncy little baby pink dress, the layered fabric sheer and light. The soft pink hem swished high up on your thighs, leaving very little of your legs to the imagination. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you decide to play it up even further and crouched down to grab a pair of red high heels from under your bed. You slipped on the pumps and with a final twirl in the mirror headed out to the party. 

The deck of the ship was buzzing with the sounds of your crew mates enjoying themselves. Brook was serenading the party with a jaunty tune to which Chopper and Nami were dancing, Luffy was busying himself with the sumptuous spread Sanji prepared, all while Zoro was ahead of the game and drinking himself into oblivion. Law was seated at the same table as Zoro, seemingly having much less of a nice time. The mysterious doctor was hunched over and stared emotionless into his drink, puffy brim of his hat shielding most of his face. 

You noticed your friend Robin leaning up against the back wall of the Sunny with a glass of red wine in hand and bit of a scowl on her face. 

“You don’t look pleased with the festivities.” 

“See that target they put up at the end of the ship?” Robin nods behind you. 

You turn and do indeed see a large target placed near the head of the Sunny. 

“Yeah?” You inquire. 

“Usopp and Franky keep having shooting contests. Franky keeps losing but he won’t give up. I don’t think they’ve sat down all night, and his face is as red as a tomato. Kind of embarrassing…” Robin giggles a little. 

“Are you surprised? I guess they’ll be out of our hair for the rest of the night then.” You laugh.

“That’s my point.” Robin rolls her eyes. Your brows raise in realization. 

“Ohhhh… you were trying to get laid! I get it now! Well no one’s approached me if you’re still up for it later…” You wink.  

“Thank you sweet y/n, always so thoughtful!” Robin sips her wine. “I’ll see if I can find you later if I’m still feeling up for it. Go get a drink and enjoy the party, dear!” Robin waves you on to the kitchen. 

You enter the galley and are immediately met with a very sweaty, stressed out Sanji. 

“Hi handsome.” You purr as you approach the blonde at the stove. 

“Oh, hello my love. I’m afraid the voracious appetite of our captain has rendered me incapacitated for the rest of the evening, the fucking glutton…” Sanji sighs. 

“Aww, my poor, tired, love cook.” You coo as you push his bangs out of his eyes. You place a kiss on his cheek. A droplet of blood escapes Sanji’s left nostril. “Well I’ll leave you to it then.” You grab a bottle of cold wine from the fridge and a glass from the shelf and carry them both out to the deck with you. 

You stroll over to the table where Law and Zoro were seated, now joined by Luffy whose cheeks were stuffed to bursting with various meats and cheeses. 

“You gentlemen mind if I sit with you?” You ask while already sitting down across from Law. 

“Not at all, pretty thing. Come have a drink with us.” Zoro smirks at you, holding his hand out to take the wine bottle from you. You oblige and he unsheathes a single blade to pop the cork off for you in dramatic fashion. 

“My hero.” You chide as the swordsman fills your glass to the brim. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get me drunk, Mr. Roronoa.” 

“And what if I am? You say the filthiest shit after you’ve had a whole bottle of wine and it’s fucking incredible.” Zoro shoots you a hungry look as he downs another cup of sake. Luffy giggles. Law straightens up and gives Zoro a confused look. 

“Not much of a talker, are you, Trafalgar?” You turn your attention to Law. 

“I didn’t know the two of you were a couple.” He states blankly. 

“We’re not. I’m seeing everyone.” You smirk across the table at the foreign captain. He looks even more confused. “It’s what I do. I love making my crew mates happy, you can understand that, can’t you?”

Without time to answer, Luffy interjects. 

“Haha you should give her a try, Traffy! She’s really something hehe!” 

Law’s eyes widen. 

“Yeah why not, Tra-Guy? You’re already here eating our food and drinking our booze, why not sample some of the other amenities we have here on the Sunny.” Zoro chuckles as he pours himself another cup of liquor. Zoro must be quite fond of Law, as sharing you is never something he likes to bring up. 

“I’m sorry… are you offering me… her? Shouldn’t she be doing that?” Law looks a bit offended. 

“Would that make you feel better? My services apply to guests of the Straw Hat pirates as well, and I assure you I can meet whatever needs you may have.” You swirl you wine in the glass and take a long sip. 

“Um… No.. that’s.. that’s quite alright, thank you.” Law stutters out his refusal. 

“You don’t know what you’re turning down, man. Whatever you’re into, and I mean whatever, she can do it. Sweetest pussy in the Grand Line.” Zoro leans back in his chair. 

“Zoro! Don’t be so vulgar around our guest.” You scold the swordsman. 

“Whatever, his loss.” Zoro shrugs and slams another drink. 

— — 

After hours upon hours of dancing and drinking, the party had thinned out quite a bit. Now that things were winding down, you notice the painful ache in your feet from wearing high heels all night. Most everyone had headed to bed and you were considering doing the same until you spy your unfinished bottle of wine on the table with Law still dated at it, alone now. 

You sit down across from Law and take a swig from the bottle directly, your glass having been lost several dances ago. 

“Classy.” Law remarks from across the table. 

“Never said that was part of my resume.” You smirk and take another swallow of alcohol. You pull your feet up into your lap and groan. “God this is the last fucking time I wear these heels.” 

You slip off one of your shoes and behind massaging the heel of your foot with both hands. You pause your ministrations to grab another sip of wine when you notice Law’s eyes on you. They weren’t on your breasts close to spilling out of your low cut dress, or your plush thighs squishing against the wood of the bench you were sitting on… they were on your foot in your lap. 

There it is.

Ideas filled your head on how to finally break this stoic stranger. 

“You’re a doctor, right?” You ask innocently. 

“Huh?” Law responds, having been snapped out of what seemed like a trance. “Um, yeah.” 

“Could you maybe feel right here? I think it could be swollen.” You extend your nearly naked leg across from you and push the table to the side so that there was nothing between the two of you. 

“It..i-it doesn’t look swollen… but if you really want I could… I could take a closer look…” He hesitantly up at you before returning his gaze to your perfectly pedicured foot. 

“I’d love that. Thank you.” 

Law gingerly takes your foot in both hands and presses firmly into where you were pointing. You squirm a bit, feet incredibly sore from dancing all night. Law starts to rub up and down from your toes to your heel, intently examining every inch. You couldn’t help but notice how his mouth was now parted and his breathing quickened as he stroked your foot. 

He stopped abruptly and released your foot from his hold. 

“I-it seems fine. You should be fine.” 

You drop your foot directly into his lap and push it firmly against the crotch of Law’s jeans. 

“Are you sure, doctor? I think you should check again.” You flash him a devious smile as you take another swig from the bottle. 

“W-what are you doing, y/n?” Law sputters out, sweat forming on his temples. You feel his cock begin to stir under the sole of your foot. 

“You know, Traffy, we could have a lot of fun together…” You push harder against his erection with your foot. 

Law winces but he doesn’t respond. 

“Y-yeah?” He manages to pant out. 

You begin to slowly stroke your foot over his denim clad member, feeling it from base to tip, hot and aching to be freed. 

“Mhmm… Why don’t you take him out so we can play? You’re so hard Traffy, must hurt… We’re the only ones left out here, no need to be shy anymore…” You giggle. 

Law sucks in a breath before eventually undoing his belt and jeans buttons. His cock springs up as he pulls it out his pants and briefs, laying rigid against his abdomen. 

“Wow… you have such a pretty cock, Traffy…” You coo at him as you slip your left shoe off your foot and allow it to join your other foot in his lap. 

“D-don’t call me that…” Law whispers out. 

“Sorry…” You begin rubbing both of your feet up and down Law’s now exposed length. He watches your movements in awe as his mouth hangs farther open than before. “You’re just so cute I can’t help but tease you…” 

Law pays your words no mind as he is mesmerized by the sight of your pretty little feet stroking his cock. Soft pants leave his lips as you continue working him over. 

“You wanna cum like this, or do you wanna fuck me, Law?” You ask as you slide the ball of your right foot over his leaking tip. 

Without responding verbally, Law grunts and leans forward to pick you up by your waist and lay you down roughly on the table you had scooted out of the way earlier. He rips his shirt over his head, keeping his hat in place. He wastes no time and flips up your frilly pink dress to expose your panties that had grown wet from merely giving a powerful man a foot job. 

“I’m not waiting-“ Law says as he pushes your panties to the side and slides the head of his cock from your hole to your clit and back again, coating himself in your wetness. He pushes himself inside of you quickly, causing you to moan and arch your back. After a few experimental thrusts, Law picks up a quick pace and rams his hips into yours, curved cock hitting all the right places inside of you. 

“Oh, fuck, Law that’s so oh-!” Your eyes snap open at the foreign feeling only to see Law standing between your legs with the outside few toes of your right foot in his mouth. Eyes slammed shut, he doesn’t falter in his thrusts as he savors the taste of your skin on his tongue. He uses one hand to rub at your clit as he caresses your ankle with the other. 

“Dirty boy…” You coo up at him as you rake your nails down his abdomen. “You like sucking on my toes, you filthy boy?”

“Mmmm” Law manages to groan out as he peppers wet, sloppy kisses to the sole of your foot now, making sure every inch gets his attention. 

“Make me cum and I’ll let you blow all over them.” You demand as you wrap your other leg around his waist and pull him closer. 

“Fuck… swordsman wasn’t kidding…” Law grunts out as he picks up the pace of his hips, plowing into you with an ungodly force. He untangles your legs from his body and pushes them up to your chest, allowing himself the perfect angle to heighten your pleasure. 

With hands under the crooks of your knees, Law brings you tumbling over the edge of your high and you cried out his name to the starry sky above you as your orgasm overtakes you. With your cunt still pulsing, Law pulls his aching, throbbing cock begging for release from your tight hole and begins stroking it in front of you. 

Law grabs both your ankles in one hand and proceeds to blow rope after rope of hot white spend all over your delicate, pink painted toes. 

Breathing heavily still, Law takes a few moments to admire his handiwork. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You quip from your exposed state on the table. 

Law shoves himself back into his pants and puts his shirt back on. He surprisingly takes the time to gently put your panties back into place and pull your dress down before helping you off the table. 

“You aren’t.. going to tell anyone about this… right?” He asks, hiding his eyes again with the brim of his hat. 

“About what? You liking feet?” You smirk. 

“Y-yeah…” 

“You’re secret is safe with me, Traffy.” You say with a wink. 

xx

*A/N ........ sorry :)*

[knavves]

EDGING ft sae itoshi & ryusei shidou — sae catches you touching yourself and punishes you !

wc: 0.6k ノ cw + tw : nsfw (18+). sub! fem reader. threesomes. sex toys (dildo). overstimulation. edging. handjobs. use of petnames. mentions of nude sending. humiliation.

"fuckk.. m close, sae." shidou grunts, head leaning onto his reddish haired lovers shoulder. only a hum sounded through sae's throat as he continued to vigorously jerk him off. each pump of his hand had shidou's thighs trembling from overstimulation, his own stomach covered in his past orgasms but he still leaned into sae's intoxicating touch and greedily begged him for more. shidou's groans rang through your ears as he came all over his own stomach and sae's hand.

but you hadn't even come once.

the pink dildo inside of you stilled when sae noticed your moans getting louder, but with shidou he'd quicken his pace and kiss the side of his head urging him to let go for him. every time you pleaded for him he'd only shoot you a glare but he was more than willingly to give his all to the blonde beside him. perhaps you could've been in shidou's position if you hadn't broken sae's one rule, touching yourself without permission.

but how could you not? they left you untouched for so long, only late night phone calls and sinful texts, the occasional nude from shidou, to keep you satisfied. but it couldn't be so bad to just indulge yourself one night, right?

but sae thought quite the opposite as he prodded the silicone toy against your aching hole once more, pushing it all in with one swift thrust. he could barely contain himself, it took him everything in him not to fuck you dumb and have you creaming on his cock but his sweet girl had to learn somehow.

"p-please sae! said i was sorry, let me cum." you were delirious at that point. having orgasm after orgasm dangled right in front of you just for it to be stripped away was driving you fucking crazy. especially when out the corner of your eye, you saw shidou erratically fucking up into sae's hand. maybe in your own head, his moans seemed louder than usual, almost like he was rubbing your punishment in your own face.

sae cocked his head to the side, his green eyes drilling holes into your body, naked and sprawled out just for him. "you want to cum, sweetheart?" your breath hitched and you frantically nodded yes yes yes over and over, your voice stuck in your throat from the feeling of the dildo dragging against your walls. it didn't feel nearly as good as sae or shidou but you were far too gone to care about anything than your own release.

"what do you think, shidou? does our princess deserve it?" sae asks, turning his attention from your trembling figure to shidou. how you wanted to wipe the chesire grin that tugged at the ends of his lips as he spoke through heavy breaths, "nah. i don't think she's learned her lesson yet."

"s not true! i've been good, please i need it." tears pooled up in your lash line, blurring your already hazy vision as you glared at the two. "aw look she's crying, sae. too much for you?"

sae paid no mind to your begging or shidou's teasing as he continued to drill the toy in and out of you, your wet squelching noises echoing throughout the room. you whined as you felt that familiar coil in your belly begin to form, you desperately clung to it and fucked your hips to meet each thrust of his hand. your mind blanked and your toes curled as you started trembling and then-

he stopped. you gasped at the feeling of your precious orgasm slipping through your fingers.

"maybe next time, angel. still needa learn your lesson."

© knavves : reposting, plagiarizing, modifying, and translating is NOT allowed.

[danosrosegarden]

something real - timothy klitz x gn!reader headcanons (NSFW) ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

{kinktober: day thirteen. prompt: mutual masturbation. 🎃}

{contains: reader having a little anxiety around sex, mutual masturbation, and a facial (reader receiving).}

☽ It was the point in your relationship where the bumbling butterflies still buzzed in your stomach when you spoke to Klitz. The puppy love still bloomed like wildflowers in your skipping heart, but you were beginning to grow comfortable with him. He was safe, easy to share your company with. You felt comfortable in the warm glow of his arms...yet something was amiss.

☽ You couldn't help but feel like you were doing something wrong by making him stop every time things got hot and heavy. He was never upset, always willing to hold you close and stroke your hair afterwards without a word of questioning. But that would grow stale and stiff eventually, wouldn't it? Eventually, he was going to want more.

☽ He, with searing pink cheeks and eyes shyly cast down, proposed an idea one night. What if we...you know...touched ourselves? But...uh...together?

☽ The solution seemed so simple; you could take care of yourselves without the pressure or expectations while still being together. Why hadn't you thought of it before? Your stomach lurched and crackled with erotic elation.

☽ With letting Klitz see you like this for the very first time, so raw, so bare and exposed, came a scorching flurry of bashfulness. Though your cheeks burned hot and your gut popped with anxiety, there also existed an aura of fresh excitement. It was something new. Fun. Real.

☽ Still, the jumbling nerves dancing in your stomach were difficult to shake. Klitz must have noticed your hands quivering as you peeled your pants away, because he laced your hand with his, his thumb stroking your soft skin.

☽ "Just pretend like I'm not even here," he whispered to you. "Touch yourself like you normally do."

☽ It felt odd and mechanical at first, your hand swirling around while you knew full well there were prying eyes watching. But you repeated the mantra in your head like prayer: just pretend like I'm not even here. Eventually, it felt like just another night in your bed by yourself, your spit-slicked fingers hitting the spots you knew made your toes curl and legs shake. You fell into a blissful rhythm, and the heat began to tighten in your core.

☽ You peeked for a moment and stifled a giggle. Klitz was struggling to keep his eyes open and continue to watch you while he stroked himself with a tight fist. The sounds were wet and thick. You watched as his thighs rocked about and his chest dragged up and down at a jagged, haphazard rate. He was close. And he deserved a reward for such a great idea, you thought with a small grin.

☽ You crawl to his feet in front of him, sitting on your knees. He slows his strokes to stare at you for a moment, cocking his brow. "What are you doing?"

☽ Your hand snakes up to his thigh, rubbing his skin with a soft grip. "You wanna cum on my face, Klitzy?"

☽ It's a challenging task not to laugh at the pathetic whimper that's punched out from deep within his chest. "F-fuck yeah, I do." His pumping fist tightens as he strokes faster.

☽ He paints your face with his warm strings of cum, one hand squeezing the base of his cock and the other running long, bony fingers through your hair.

☽ Is it odd to feel warmly emotional while semen is dripping from your face? It's just that...you really couldn't imagine it being anyone else but him. It was only him who you wanted to trust like this. You couldn't think of anything else but that shaggy hair and those thin glasses when imagining sharing this deep, hidden, intimate part of yourself.

☽ You'd work yourself up to letting him inside of you. For now, you had a deliciously fun game to play together. No pressure, no expectations. Just doing, just being.

[infinite-orangepeel]

“get too close to your muse & you, the artist, will lose all ability to decipher one shade from the next on your palette. keep your distance…”

fall quarter begins at the curly roots of eddie munson’s ineffable head, runs its’ labyrinthian course through passageways of blue veins & black ink, & ends at a set of hairy crimson painted toes.

steve finds himself squandering every waking moment of his lifeblood & attention somewhere, egregiously, in the middle.

“say you’re drawing a bed of flowers,” his professor lectured a few weeks back, “what happens if you put your nose in the middle of those flowers & try to recreate the details on your canvas? you come up with color and shape, sure, but it’s blurry—isn’t it? it’s a big blobby blur of nothing. that’s not very good life drawing, i’m afraid.”

flash forward to the present—

the bed is firm but comfortable. reminding you of its’ presence.

it doesn’t encourage daydreaming &, yet, steve is ignoring the better advice of his mentor & pressing his curious nose directly into the bud of an all too striking flower.

he knows the intimate contact could kill the rose, is aware of the thorns lining the stem, but he can’t stay away.

he’s struck by fear and temptation and self-loathing and a beauty that stings like a slap across the face.

eddie’s his roommate, his friend, his muse for the most important project of steve’s career as an art student.

& getting too close is lethal, so he creates a sort of optical illusion.

designs an environment in which he can pretend they are star-crossed lovers in a broken world that won’t let them be together. in which touch is a small death each and every time.

steve flits to eddie like a dragonfly to water—

never touching.

never spending too much time in his orbit before making up an excuse to leave & jerk off to the smell of old cigarettes in the bathroom.

everything he really wants to say sits in the back of his throat like a painful, malignant lump & gets spat out onto his sketchbook in a tragically romantic exorcism.

doing the dishes next to him is enough to drive him insane.

drawing him, butt-naked, is another story.

“is it supposed to be so….erotic?”

eddie arches an eyebrow as steve traces the outline of his cock into his sketchbook.

“it’s not that erotic,” steve says, blushing into his charcoals, “besides no one will know it’s you. it’s art.”

art is supposed to be weird & naked. now, hold still, & let me draw you.”

it’s definitely erotic.

there are roses—de-thorned, for safety—shrouding eddie’s dick & leaving a trail of pink petals across his pale thighs.

eddie’s hand is draped over his head; exuding a certain brattiness, lust, boredom—

as if he’s lying there because he wants someone, like steve, to stumble upon him & use his body the way it so clearly needs to be.

his lips are parted on the precipice of whispering some filthy secret into steve’s ear while milking him like a simple farm girl with nothing better to do.

fuck.

he can’t be this close to eddie without losing his mind.

fuck. fuck. fuck.

it’s just a body. just limbs and a huge cock and—

eddie’s quiet for a little while which is rare for him, before he pipes up again.

“what if we painted the flowers together?”

steve wipes the sweat from his brow, drops his pencil, and looks up at eddie across the mattress. working overtime to avoid staring at the erection sticking out amongst the bouquet of roses.

“the piece isn’t supposed to be very colorful. i’m going for muted tones. that’s why i picked the pale pinks and whites.”

eddie giggles a little and, it’s so cute, steve has to pinch his own thigh through his shorts just to maintain composure.

“i don’t think you’re understanding—the colors wouldn’t change much. except for some more white, if you catch my drift,” eddie pumps his hand over his cock several times and mimes cumming stop the petals, “might look cool. might get you extra points with that asshole professor of yours. you’ve said he likes ‘shock value.’”

“i—i guess you’re right. that’s a pretty….different and unique….um….idea. yeah.”

it’s like this that steve strips naked and clambers as close to eddie as he can possibly get without laying a finger on him. adhering to the rules—keeping a particular distance between artist & muse.

they lay side by side. sunlight streaming in through the blinds & bathing eddie’s spindly fingers in gold as he touches himself.

“harrington, don’t act like you haven’t been dreaming about this since day one,” eddie snarks, “i’ve seen the way you look at me, sweetheart. your eyes are gonna burn holes in my ass if you’re not careful. touch that pretty cock of yours, lemme see you.”

before steve can do anything about it or change his mind, he’s got a fist wrapped around his own cock and the other hand pinching his nipples. left and right, back and forth, dragging his nails through the hair sprouting around them.

“didn’t think you thought about me like that,” steve whines, watching as eddie edges himself methodically—

moving faster, slower, squeezing at the base, thumbing over the slit, cupping his balls, slapping the insides of his own thighs until they match the pink petals.

“i like a little pain,” he comments when he catches steve’s wide eyes, “and i’ve always was hallucinating the first time i walked into this room and saw you on the bed—thought i was going into the light and seeing an angel.”

“you’re so full of it.”

“i’d like to be full of you,” eddie breathes against steve’s neck, not allowing his lips to pass the barrier, “but i don’t know if you can handle me, big boy. you’re blushing like a nervous little schoolgirl.”

“am not—”

“are too, &, you’re about to cum just listening to my voice. it’s so crystal clear. look at you—fucking yourself so stupid.”

eddie looks so beautiful.

laying there like a forsaken god locked out of heaven.

steve’s been so good about keeping his hands to himself, about keeping his nose out of the flowers, but desire and temptation are stronger than any amount of remaining willpower he has.

he grabs eddie’s shoulder with his freehand & kisses him until they’re both seeing stars.

celestial explosions of pleasure & truth & this thing that’s been growing violently between them since the moment they first met.

“i’m cumming. i’m gonna—fuck steve, it’s gonna be on the flowers—i hope that’s okay—”

they cum in tandem over petals of pink and white and thornless stems.

steve gets an A+.

taglist (message me to be added or removed at any time <3): @estrellami-1 @disastardly @ilovecupcakesandtea @the-redthread @asbealthgn @bestofbucky @vampireinthesun @carlyv @shrimply-a-menace @lordrrascal @malachitedevil @anxiouseds @gay-little-bitch @jhrc666 @pinkdaisies1998 @perseus-notjackson @eiddets @corroded-coffin-groupie @three-possums-playing-human @stevesbipanic @plutoshelm @arkenstoned @indiearr @they-reap-what-we-sow @gleek4twd @bunnyweasley23 @livingoutload @a-little-unsteddie @novelnovella @neverlandwaitingforme @swiss-cheeze

[cwilder64-blog]

Laying upon the soft crimson sheets, in a circle of flickering candles and rays of moonlight, was the most beautiful mortal creature with tufts of golden hair and the brightest green eyes, flickering with curiosity. Her breath wavered, her chest falling as she felt the soft lips graze upon her stomach. Her corset was unbuttoned and cast aside somewhere to be sought out later. The rest of her clothing had disappeared, and she was left bare on the sheets as her arms gathered goosebumps from the breeze of the window. The room was dim, yet so well lit in the vast space only meant for them.

Her lover, an undead man with ears slightly pointed and a large array of jewelry that littered his hands was enjoying fondling the supple skin of the mortal that lay before him. A small groan elicited from his lips, his hands wandering around her legs, merely grazing the pink flesh that beckoned him. Her moans tumbled and fell, her face as flushed as the berries she had eaten moments prior, still licking the juice from her lips as she withered beneath the creature whom she’d come to care for.

The bedroom chamber from which they share intimacy was decorated in crimson, littered with candles, and the musk of cider lingered about the bed frame. Hidden behind the curtains, was her favorite place, where she often laid and was worshipped for hours, until dawn. The connection was so easy, despite their differences.

He was the epitome of a lonely but angry creature, seeking a blood lust vengeance the day he stumbled upon her beauty. Aamon was a tall and awfully attractive being, capable of things beyond that of her realm, magic lingering from his fingertips, always tracing her skin with a sick trail of lust and passion ever since they wed. He showered her with gifts, from fancy dresses to jewelry, he always wanted the best for her. And even the best, wasn’t good enough. He adored his little wife, his mortal, his human.

The fair blondes thoughts wandered away, her body thrumming with lust, flexing her toes as he settled in the apex of her legs. His body spread her perfectly. He hovered over her, dragging his fangs across the sweet spot of her neck to elicit the melody of her moans. She grasped onto his bicep as the tip of his thick cock pressed into her flesh and pushed in with the gentle sway of his hips. Her blunt nails dug into his back, biting her lip from the sting of his bite, her heart racing with passion and legs quivering around his thighs. He slowly retreated from her warm walls.

“You are the most beautiful thing in this castle,” he whispered, saying something in a foreign tongue she never quite understood. He pushed in again, watching her breasts perk, refraining from dropping saliva from his mouth. He was hungry. Hungry, for..so many things. Her legs spread slightly to welcome his large frame deeper into her womb, prodding, pulling him In.

He rested his head against hers, gripping the sheets as he pumped into her, “ignis in inguine, how I wish to destroy your innocence so that it may stay with me, as mine, forever.”

She brought him closer, gently mustering up her energy and placing her lips against his, tasting blood as he nipped at her. He licked it from her chin, merely missing the small droplets that had escaped them and dropped onto her breasts. He groaned, shaking his head, hearing the faint dangle of his chains on his ears as he thrusted himself into her cunt. The squelch of her wetness frequently filled his keen hearing as his shaft receded, dripping onto the sheets to create a pile of her arousal just like it had the first night he claimed her. His back muscles flexed as his memory plagued him, flashes of her virgin blood piling onto his bed made him dizzy with lust.

He pounded into her, slowing down momentarily to relish in how she sounded, clawing at his back as the breathy voice wavered, “How I love you, Aamon.”

He smiled against her cheek, sensing an impending orgasm to come crashing down on her, he gripped her hip and pricked at her soft skin with his claws, drawing blood. She had come to get used to that feeling, though her face scrunched up in pain. Her legs began to shake as she lifted from the bed and focused on her lovers hands on her and his wet tongue gliding across her mouth to lick up the dried blood from her bruised lips, all thanks to his fangs. She arched her back against him and held her breath before her orgasm hit her for the hundredth time since being wed to this creature. He inhaled her scent in the crook of her neck, smelling her need for him as she gripped his cock.

Hours and hours would pass with the pair like that, sometimes quickly mating again not long after the previous one had finished. She usually slept bare to him, or clad in a sheer mesh material where her numerous bite marks were on display, not that she cared, since everything she did was for him. She often walked around the castle in close to nothing, since they mated everywhere anyway, and anyone that looked at her the wrong way wouldn’t live to see the next day.

The beauty laid in his sheets, her hand resting over her face as she peered over at her monster. He was shirtless, sweaty from their mating session, and tired. Still, he looked at her like he lusted for her again. It was a need that she could never satisfy, she knew. He would want her again and again, until she had no blood left in her, maybe even then.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

i am SO here for the influx of love for “keep quiet”. that fic… S…

potentially my favorite fic of yours to exist and if you EVER wanted to temporarily put pause on pussy steve to bring back this sloppy, squirty, dumbified, pretty pussy bucky i would be forever in your debt

related to this, and this

of course, also, "Keep Quiet, Nothing Comes As Easy As You"

For reference, my ask box is no longer open for requests, but this is from before I closed it, so I will be writing for this ask.

Thank you!!

And, listen, why spend time just talking about one of those boys when you can ramble about them both?

Attempted 69, oral sex, fingering, teasing/dirty talk, etc.

Bucky is scorching hot--red-hot--from the tips of his ears aaaall the way down to his clenched, curled toes. It is redicious, how fucking lethally high the fever he's running has gotten. But he's not just flaming. Every inch of his body is a guitar string twisted and tightened to the point of breaking.

He's so fucking tense and yet so useless, too, limp like an overcooked noodle that's weak, falling apart, barely keeping it's head above the surface of the simmering water. Both. He's, yeah, he's both.

He's burning up, evaporated, but he's also just a liquefied puddle. Solid mush. There is too much sensory onslaught to track.

And Bucky can't make sense of it all, spinning and sloshing inside his empty head. He's so fucking thankful he's lying on his back, face-up with their sex-mused, sweat-damp sheets stuck to his arching, tingling back because if he were anywhere else he would be crumbling. Falling to his knees, or, worse, more embarrassingly, straight onto his face. There is no way to hold himself together when such intense pleasure flows through him like a fucking waterfall. All soaked. There is no way to hole himself together when he's consumed by flames in the middle of a firepit. Burning hot.

Bucky is quivering chaotically, uncoordinatedly, and he's moving his mouth, sloppy and fast yet slow, and he's not talking, he's barely able to rattle out moans, and he's blushing so badly from head to toe that he must look like he's been dipped in a pool of wet, glistening pink paint and he's swollen from how fucking much he's blushing, his blood boiling, and he's sensitive. Tingling. Sparkling. His blood is wreaking havoc on his body as it rushes through his veins, boiling, boiling, thick, and pumping.

Oh, god.

It's so goddamn overwhelming.

Bucky doesn't know what he's doing--he doesn't even know if he's making Steve feel good. Because. Yeah. That's right. That's what he's supposed to be doing.

He has a mission here and he's probably utterly fucking failing at it. He can't rub two brain cells together to think about how to do better, though. He is, just, consumed by this. Now. Here. Hot. Wet. Sensitive.

Steve told him he'd make him feel good if Bucky made him feel good, too. And he's trying. He's trying so hard that he's pretty sure there are tears leaking out of his eyes, but his face is also so slick and coated in the wetness of Steve's arousal that he can't tell.

What's tears?

What's dripping wetness from Steve's hot cunt?

What's the fucking difference?

Bucky can't tell if he's crying, sobbing, choking, or just using his whole face so uncoordinatedly, so unashamedly getting up in Steve's pussy that he's smeared his heated, briny wetness so high up on his cheeks that he thinks he's crying. There's sweat beading his hairline, too. He's soaking into the mattress from the perspiration seeping from every pore on his body. His lips--his mouth and his... not mouth lips--feel swollen from how long they've been at this. Overused. Licking and tonguing and nipping each other to rip out moans and gasps and cries of pleasure. Orgasm after orgasm.

Bucky spread across their bed, Steve on top of him, flipped the other way.

When he got like that, positioning their bodies just so, Steve lewdly spread his legs to expose himself from his cute, sweet swollen clit past his wet, clutching vagina to his tight, tight asshole; he's so pink and pretty and Bucky might be fucking burning, but he's also drowning and suffocating and dying a million different ways between his legs. Steve on top of him, bodily, his weight shoving Bucky down into the mattress.

Jesus.

Bucky has pressed his entire face up against Steve's pussy, diving in, and he's dying that way plus dying at how Steve is doing the same for him.

Too much pleasure.

He can't.

Steve is doing a much, much better job. Bucky is... pretty sure. He can't think straight. Earlier, he had his tongue on Steve's clit and two fingers buried in his cunt and was pulling more fucking sticky, hot, salty wetness out of him with the stimulation but at some point. Christ. At some point, Steve stepped up his game, and Bucky couldn't. He needed something else to hold onto. He needed to dig all ten points of his fingers into Steve's hips to keep from thrashing and squirming hugely, getting away from or getting more of Steve's talented mouth. He doesn't fucking know. God.

Please.

He can't.

He whines needily, stupidly into Steve's pussy, licking at him broadly to try and give some of what Steve is giving him back. It's so hard. He doesn't know what he wants; he doesn't know what he needs; he doesn't know what he's doing.

It's a stupidly pathetic and delicous display. The difference between them stark. They're both so fucking aroused but Steve can keep his cool and keep his technique, Bucky, on the other hand, can't keep a single fucking shiver from shaking through him as if it's the most devastating earthquake. Steve is curling three fingers deep inside him and sucking at his clit and Bucky feels like he could fucking burst out of his skin. Steve's pressing hotly against that spot inside him that has his vision blurring into a hot, white void of, just, need and he's sucking on his clit hard enough that it hurts. It's that bite of too much, too good pain that leaves Bucky failing to swallow down a little behind-his-teeth shriek.

Steve is too good at multitasking for this to be fair. Bucky can't help it. He can't keep up! He's infamous for going dumb during sex and he's so sensitive between his legs, just one touch, one murmur of sweet words, and he can't handle it, and Steve is too damn skilled at eating pussy and he's just--

It's not fair!

If Bucky wasn't crying before, now he is.

He is.

Crying.

"C'mon, princess," Steve pulls back only the slightest bit with a truly obscene sound. Almost a goddamn wet slurp. All that fucking wetness dripping like honey out of him, making Steve's breath against him even more noticable, his huffing feels painted on. Every word leaving Bucky quivering and exposed.

Brazenly, at the same time that Steve's voice purrs over those teasing words, he drags his three fingers out of Bucky's tight, trembling pussy and slips them up and down, up and down, up and down his wet slit, teasing him, playing with him so fucking effectively. Shit. He feels how fucking hard his clit is but also, god, he feels swollen everywhere.

He's blushing with his entire body, so how can all of his blood be centered between his legs, making him flush hot and swell with arousal? It doesn't make sense. It doesn't have to make sense. Bucky can't make sense, he can't put one thought in front of the other.

Oh, fuck. me.

"C'mon, pillow princess, baby, don't stop," Steve doesn't stop. Nevermind how he's not even out of breath, the fucker.

He's terrible. Eating pussy like a champ, dirty talking like he doesn't care about how pornographic his mouth is getting, not ashamed for even an instant, and totally merciless as he strips Bucky down.

Bucky whimpers, sucking wet, sloppy kisses down the inside of Steve's thighs clenched around his face to try and not drown. If he didn't already know Steve likes it--likes him like this, likes teasing him--he'd know now with how he's flooding him, shoved in so close to his cunt.

Bastard.

Meanwhile, Steve fucking kisses him on the pussy like he'd kiss his mouth if they were face-to-face, frenching. Filthy motherfucker. He will call him names until his eyes roll back because he's awful. And names are the best he can do. He doesn't have anything else going for him--so weak.

"Thought I told you not to stop," Steve rumbles, sliding the tease of two fingertips in him, making him really fucking feel how his hole clenches tight.

Bucky whines like he's dying because he is.

In retort, Steve slaps him; he doesn't hit him in the face or let his big, heavy hand collide with his ass, spanking him, nah, Steve's worse. Steve is a pervert. 'Cause, no fucking problem or hesitation, he's manhandling Bucky's legs apart, spreading him wide and leaving him vulnerable to the rush of cold air across his sex, and, from there, he's bringing his hand down flat and stinging across his pussy.

He slaps Bucky's pussy.

And.

Bucky just fucking squeals, his eyes rolling all the way back into his skull.

He's gone.

If he was useless before, then there isn't a word for how vulnerable and helpless and fucking dumb Bucky is now. There's no one home. He's vacant. Eyes glassy and far-away. But it isn't enough for Steve. It never is. It's not a true Rogers marathon fuck session until Bucky passes out.

So, as Steve turns around--purposefully grinding his pussy against Bucky's lazily open mouth, hanging wide, before he dismounts him, using him how he wants--Steve makes sure to arch his back, showing off his goddamn perfect ass, and settle neatly in his lap. Okay, almost in his lap. He's offset enough to grind, humid and sticky, against Bucky's thick upper thigh. Riding his leg as he unceremoniously shoves two fingers back into Bucky's cunt. Torturing him.

"Should've known better," Steve muses to himself as he fingerfucks him into oblivion. Two fingers in, fucking him good, giving him something to clench down on while his thumb is against his clit, rubbing and pressing tight enough to leave his vision to ignite into sparking fireworks. Shit. Wet sounds fill the room as the air grows thicker and more fragrant around them. It smells like sex. Like pussy. Undeniably.

"There's no fuckin' way you could handle 69in', 'course not," he smirks to himself, his accent really coming out the hotter he gets for this. "You get too fuckin' dumb. Can't even do anythin' when I'm just touchin' you. How could you have any smarts when you're getting touched and expected to touch me, too? Fuckin' pillow princess." He's all too self-satisfied because he fucking knows he does this to Bucky. Before him, Bucky wasn't so--yeah. He didn't get so dumb. It's just Steve. Steve gets all Steve, and Bucky can't handle it!

Bucky is so dumb now that he can't even argue. He can't agree, either. So, he just lays there, whimpering and pleasured so exorbitantly he can't hardly take it.

He's gonna cum again.

P.S. I don't have an ask to relate this to as an excuse to write it, so I'm just gonna fucking stick it here because why not-?

So, imagine pussy Steve getting it into his head for one reason or another that he's gonna peg the shit out of Bucky (even though pegging implies that it's a woman doing it to a man and they're both men here), like, he's gonna dick his boyfriend better than Bucky can dick him.

He's stubborn.

He's competitive.

He's... oh.

Bucky gets him a nice big, thick strap, something that will be a struggle for him to take because he's hungry like that, and Steve harnesses it on.

He puts his shiny new toy in place and he's so fucking excited that he's all wet and slippery between his legs, and he fucks in and, "OH!" He can't keep his moaning gasp in. It's just the way his clit grinds against the base of his toy. It feels like lightning cutting through him. White hot.

He was so into the idea of fucking Bucky and taking him apart but here he is, puppy panting, tongue out, shaking because every time he jerkily thrusts, it makes him wetter. He's so sensitive down between his legs, he can't help it. Every thrust is a bigger shock for him.

Plus, the sight of his strap fucking in and out of Bucky? Jesus Christ. How does Bucky ever do this, much less do it while being able to feel his dick? What the fuck?

Steve squeals when Bucky chuckles and strains to reach between his legs, cupping his wet, swollen sex in one big palm and asking, "aw, is this too hard for you? Are you too sensitive down here?"

Steve. can't. take. it.

[femmefatalevibe]

how do you get monica belluccis vibe (with short wavy hair)?

Use nourishing shampoo/conditioner with a leave-in, anti-frizz conditioner. Let your hair air-dry

Apply ultra-nourishing facial moisturizer to the skin with SPF

For makeup: Use a satin-finish foundation with medium to full concealer underneath to cover imperfections; apply a golden brown bronzer as a contour and a pearly-highlighter to the cheekbones& high points of your face if not oily (tip/bridge of nose, cupid's bow, chin, middle of forehead); Fill in your brows so they look full but natural with a match brow pencil/powder shade; Create a grey-brown smokey eye with a golden bronze/taupe eyeshadow as a base on the lid with a smokey grey in the crease and black shadow on the outer corner(if desired); Apply a thin layer of black liner to the top of the eye with a subtle, classic wing and to the water line/tight line (inner rim); FInish off the lips with a matte or satin finish pink-brown lipstick (or a "your lips but better" hue)

For clothing: Tailored black wardrobe staples in high-quality fabrics – sharp wool/leather/silk blazers, crisp moto jackets, Pima cotton tops or silk camis/blouses, cashmere/leather bodysuits, tailored straight-leg or bootcut black trousers/denim, black slip dress/bodycon knit or heavy-fabric dresses, long tailored black coats in wool, leather, or silk with accents of black lace/red/leopard print

For accessories: Statement crystal, pearl, or classic chunky necklaces with sleek black heeled boots or pumps with a pointed or almond-shaped toe, black tights & hosiery