#sense of the word. an intense aroma.

[fagmegumi]

i think ur alright. u give me vibes of this old gay portuguese movie i used to love watching but way more rancid. i also assume u are italian and i have beef with the italians (not telling what about) so ur on thin ice.

This ask is so fascinating only three sentences but it feels like an entire universe. also please whats the movie….

[retrosabers]

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐔𝐌𝐄’𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐌.

logan howlett x fem!reader

summary: the scent of you is driving logan crazy.

contains: mild 18+ content. MINORS DNI. mentions of masturbation (m&f), a steamy little make out, and implications of future smut

word count: 1.8k

a/n: not me trying to capitalize off the hugh jackman renaissance and revive my dead blog…anyways, this is my first time writing for logan! hope you all enjoy <3

i feel like we don’t talk enough about logan’s enhanced sense of smell.

the man can catch a whiff of someone the second they walk into the room, even the building sometimes if their scent is strong enough. it’s especially heightened when he realizes he’s attracted to you. at first he thought maybe it was because you were always wearing perfume, the aroma lingering around the mansion wherever you traveled. but then it became such an intense, all encompassing sensation that he knew it was something deeper.

his suspicions are confirmed one night as he walks past your room. if the faint whimpers he heard weren't enough confirmation of your activities, then the scent that fills his nostrils seals the deal.

you’re touching yourself. and he can smell your arousal.

it makes something stir in his stomach. the animal-like urges he always tries so hard to keep at bay threaten to make their way to the surface the longer he stands frozen in the hallway. logan attempts to shake the heat that spreads across his skin as he makes his way back to his own room, but it only ends with him cumming hard into his hand an hour later.

the next day, when he catches you on your way out of charles’ office, you offer him the same kind, beaming smile you always did. then that damned smell fills his nostrils again and his fists curl at his sides once you’re out of eyesight.

there’s only one explanation for it.

you’re ovulating.

which means there’s no escaping his desires unless you stay out of reach.

so for his sake and yours, he decides to just avoid you completely until the week is over. he can’t risk caving to those urges and doing something stupid and irrational.

of course you’re completely oblivious to it. you think that he’s just being weird, going through another rut of being a standoffish loner like he was when he first arrived at the mansion. because after about a week, he’s back to being a bit friendlier, to being the logan you had grown to call a close friend.

then the cycle seems to repeat itself and you notice it’s just you he’s avoiding.

you try and wrack your brain to think of anything you could’ve done to warrant this kind of isolation. you hoped if something upset logan he would just talk to you about it instead of playing this childish game of hot and cold.

after a couple months, you decide you’ve had enough.

cornering him was a difficult task. but you were observant enough to know certain parts of his routine, including exactly when he would be lingering in the common areas after all the kids had gone to sleep. after two failed attempts of trying to catch him in the kitchen, you finally managed to find him alone and unsuspecting.

“why have you been avoiding me?” you blurt, wanting to cut right to the chase. you’re expecting him to flinch a little bit, perhaps even be stunned.

but he knew you were coming. logan knew it was only a matter of time before you noticed his schtick.

still, he decides to look for an excuse, any excuse, to cover up the real reason.

“m’not avoiding you” he grumbles halfheartedly around the rim of a beer bottle. taking an extra long swig, he finally turns to look at you; leaning against the doorway with your arms folded and a look akin to annoyance plastered across your pretty face.

you cock your head to the side, clearly unimpressed with his answer.

“a few days ago, i watched you back out of a room the minute you realized i was in it,” you start to list off, counting with your fingers. “last month you avoided the wing where the gym was altogether while i was going through a new training regimen.”

logan winces at the memory. the scent of your pheromones was intoxicating. so much so that he couldn’t step foot anywhere near the gym without feeling like he needed to rub one out.

“and the month before that,” you huff out a sad laugh, voice suddenly soft and quiet. “you didn’t even say goodbye before you went off on that mission with scott and jean.”

guilt overtakes him quickly at the pain in your tone.

you’ve never looked smaller as you pick at a loose thread on your sweatpants. “did i do something wrong?”

“no,” logan reassures, jumping out of his seat at record speed, though still trying to maintain some distance. “you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“then what is it? you sigh exasperatedly, desperate to put an end to this nagging feeling that’s been eating away at you. “logan, you know if something’s bothering you, you can tell me.”

and he wants to. he so badly wants to, maybe even see if you’ll offer to help him out. but you’re you. the sweetest, kindest thing he’s ever known and he’ll be damned if he lets his curse of a mutation ruin whatever relationship the two of you have.

but then you’re inching closer and his skin starts buzzing again. his senses are consumed by you. by the way you look up at him with big, wide eyes, the softness of your skin as you reach to place a comforting hand on his forearm. it's all too much, and he finds himself pulling away from you with a grunt.

it hurts to see him retreat from you so aggressively. his jaw is clenched tight, his fists at his sides even tighter as the veins in his arms bulge bigger than you’ve ever seen before. he looks pained. like he’s fighting something internally.

“logan,” you approach him cautiously, unsure of what exactly to do. “what’s going on?”

his eyes squeeze shut at the sound of your voice. “just, please go back to your room.”

“i’m not leaving you like this.”

“m’not asking you,” he grits out, almost like a growl. “i’m telling you. go back to your room.”

now he was starting to piss you off. you narrow your eyes, leaning your hip against the counter.

“or what?”

suddenly he’s crowding your space, chest heaving up and down as he stares at you with pupils so wide his eyes are nearly black. logan’s voice is scarily level when he utters his final warning.

“or i’m gonna do something i regret.”

when you shift closer to him, his nose twitches with a sniff. the raise of your brow doesn’t go unnoticed, and he knows that you’re not leaving this room until you get to the bottom of what he’s been hiding.

that’s when something inside logan decides to throw caution to the wind, just for a minute.

“i can smell you.”

curiosity morphs into confusion at his admission. you shake your head.

“i don’t understand.”

then, the man’s gaze travels to the waistband of your pajama pants, the tension in his jaw growing more taught by the second. his hands flex at his sides, trying to keep him grounded and calm as he finally admits what’s been driving him mad.

“i can smell you.”

the emphasis on the last word takes a minute to register. logan watches as the gears turn behind your eyes, catches the exact moment of realization as your gaze softens and your lips part.

oh.

oh.

slowly things start to piece together. how logan’s behavior seemed to fall around the same time these past couple months. a few weeks before your cycle.

he wasn’t avoiding you because he was angry, or upset. he was avoiding you because you were fucking ovulating.

logan expects you to flee, to be completely weirded out and steer clear of him for the foreseeable future. what he’s not expecting, is the words that come out of your mouth.

“i can help you with that if you want.”

you say it with such nonchalance, such casualness that he wonders if you’re even really grasping what you’ve said.

the wolverine shakes his head. “trust me, you don’t want this.”

he doesn’t quite believe his own words as he watches you close the distance between your bodies. something you’ve been desperate to do for as long as you can remember.

the thin fabric of his tank top and the soft cotton of your t-shirt is the only thing standing between you both. your chests are mere centimeters from touching and logan can feel the heat radiating from your bodies as his confession hangs heavy in the air. then that fucking smell comes back tenfold and he groans.

“you don’t get to make that choice for me,” your voice is sickly sweet, dripping with desire as your fingers ghost over the waistband of his jeans. he feels like a horny teenager as he preens at the barely there contact.

logan breathes your name, a last stitch effort to get you to run, though he knows it’s futile. if there’s one thing he knows about you, it’s that you're stubborn. unmoving in your ways.

and that when you want something, you don’t stop until you get it.

your hand comes up to cradle the side of his face, a rather gentle touch he wasn’t anticipating. his eyes flutter shut as you swipe your thumb over the expanse of his cheekbone.

your words are barely above a whisper. “i trust you, logan. completely.”

that’s all he needs to hear before he throws any sense of self control out the window.

he surges forward and captures your lips in what is possibly the most heated kiss you’ve ever experienced. you nearly stumble over at the sheer force of it. logan’s large hands fly to your waist, yours to the back of his neck as his tongue prods for entrance into your mouth. it’s messy, almost primal as you let him ravish you like he’s been thinking about for weeks.

you moan and he swallows the sound greedily, desperate to hear it again, and again, and again. when his lips move to press against the column of your throat, you know this is going to escalate into exactly what you hoped it would.

“logan,” you breathe out as he focuses on your pulse point, his hands wandering further south to knead at the globes of your ass. “not here.”

“why not?” he mutters, all smirky and smug as he continues to press wet hot kisses against your neck.

“because i would prefer if you didn’t fuck me where our friends eat.”

he laughs, a deep vibration felt against your chest as you absentmindedly grind your core against his. it makes him bring his mouth back up to yours, stealing one final kiss before he pulls away.

looking at you like he wants to eat you alive. and by god you might just let him.

pressing a playful smack against your backside, he gently nudges you in the direction of the corridor.

“lead the way sugar.”

thanks for reading! <3

[swytdoll]

babies.

more of baby!daddy eren as requested by anon ♡︎ + nsfw becuz he can’t keep his hands off of you. minors dni, please, i will send toji to get you.

Pitiful. That's exactly how you felt. Pitiful for letting the man you vowed to never let touch you again have had you in a headlock while he fucked you. Hazy, that's what your memory is as your eyes flutter open.

Trickles of light flood in, and it only takes a second for you to realize you're in his bed. The room smells like him—woodsy and slightly smoky, a scent that clings to your skin. You groan, throwing your head back, the ache in your neck a reminder of last night's intensity. It feels like you're doing the walk of shame as you saunter out in one of his shirts, the fabric soft and familiar against your skin, carrying his scent with you.

You round the corner to see the girls and then him. He's leaning casually against the counter, a cup of coffee in hand, his eyes locking onto yours with that same glint that got you into this mess. The girls are giggling, completely oblivious to the storm brewing inside you. The tension in the room is palpable, and you can feel his gaze following you, making every step feel heavier.

"Mommy!" The two four-year-olds exclaim at the same time upon noticing your presence. A smile breaks across your lips as they hug your legs, their small arms warm and comforting. "Good morning, my loves. What're you guys doing?" you question, pressing kisses against their messy bed hair, the scent of sleep and innocence filling your senses. "Daddy is making heart pancakes, look, Mommy!" Zoe pulls at your hand, her excitement palpable.

Chloe follows closely on your heels, her giggles bubbling up like a sweet melody. The kitchen is filled with the aroma of pancakes. Eren flipping heart-shaped pancakes with a concentration that makes your heart ache. The scene is a stark contrast to the turmoil inside you, a reminder of the complicated web of love and regret that binds you all together. You watch as he carefully places the pancakes onto a plate, the golden-brown hearts a testament to his effort to create a perfect morning. The girls' laughter rings out, and for a moment, the chaos in your mind is silenced by the simple beauty of this family moment.

Your ex-husband looks up, the corner of his mouth upturned. Your throat is suddenly dry, and you can feel the girls tugging at the hem of your shirt. His eyes are dark, and his jaw is set. “Eat up, so you can be big and strong like daddy.” setting the plates in front of the girls. They immediately dig in, and you take the moment of reprieve to gather yourself.

His hands are warm when they rest against the small of your back, and the way his breath fans across your ear has you biting your lip to hold in a moan. It doesn't go unnoticed. His touch lingers, his fingers tracing small, deliberate circles that send shivers down your spine. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, the familiar scent of his cologne mingling with the aroma of pancakes and syrup. The intensity of the moment is almost too much to bear, and you find yourself leaning into his touch, craving the connection that was once so natural between you.

His voice, low and husky, whispers, "I still remember how you like your pancakes, extra syrup, just a hint of butter." The words are simple, but the underlying emotion is unmistakable, a reminder of the love that still simmers beneath the surface. He won’t lie, the way his shirt falls off your frame excites him a bit too much. And the way he walks around all slutty with just a pair of sweatpants hanging off his hips, pretty hair tucked behind his ears excites you too much.

"Eat Mommy.” he whispers, his voice deep and husky. You glare at him. The man is sinful, and it's hard to resist when his thumb draws lazy circles against your hip bone. "Fine," you manage, trying to sound firm. For someone who can't stand him, you two sure do always end up in the craziest predicaments. It seems like every time he comes into contact with you, he leaves a mark. Whether it be bruises along your thighs or emotional turmoil, you're left reeling from his effect.

"Good," he praises, pulling away. You turn around to see his smirk as he sits on the counter. The girls are completely engrossed in their pancakes, their mouths moving a mile a minute about the things they want to do today. You can't help but stare at the man you married, the man you were going to grow old with.

But life isn't always as you plan, and now you're stuck in an endless cycle of what ifs.

"What do you want, ✰?”

The way your name rolls off his tongue sends a rush of arousal to your core. You clear your throat, looking away as you try to collect yourself. You can feel the weight of his gaze, the pressure of his scrutiny. You can feel the heat radiating off his skin. It's like being under a microscope, and you know exactly how he wants you.

"I want to take a shower." You pick at the food, appetite diminished.

His eyebrow cocks, and he crosses his arms.

“That’s all?”

You nod, watching as the girls gulped down the rest of their food. Ignoring his eyes, you stand up to carry the dishes to the sink.

The girls run off to play, leaving the two of you alone.

The tension is thick, and the silence is deafening.

You're about to head off when he wraps his fingers around your wrist.

"You're not going anywhere, what I tell you about leaving so fast and shit? What do you want?”

His hand is warm against your skin, the touch burning. His eyes are dark, and you swallow before taking a step back. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and your knees buckle.

"I said what I wanted."

He laughs, the sound mocking. He takes a step towards you, his presence overwhelming. Your body betrays you, and you can feel the arousal pooling between your thighs. “That’s all?” His words make you whimper, and your mind goes fuzzy. He's so close you can feel the warmth of his skin, the heat of his breath. Your resolve is weakening, and you know he can see it.

"I..."

"Use your words, princess. Tell me," he urges, his hand trailing up your arm. His touch is electric, and you can feel yourself giving in.

"You."

It's a quiet admission, but he hears it. A grin spreads across his lips, and he pulls you into him, his lips crashing against yours. His kiss is hungry, and his hands are rough as they roam your body.

"That wasn't so hard, was it, baby?"

"W-we can't the girls-"

"Are playing." He finishes, fingers creeping into the waistband of your underwear.

"Let me take care of you love."

And how can you say no when he's looking at you like that, with those eyes, with that voice, with his lips.

"Ohmyyyy—shittt." Eren's thrust are brutal as he fucks you against the glass shower wall. Water rains down on your bodies, his hand gripping the back of your neck pressing your face against the barrier.

The other holds onto your hips, pulling you back against his cock. The steam fogs up the glass, the sound of skin slapping fills the air. Your legs are shaking, head spinning. His name is the only thing that leaves your lips. You can't think straight, can't form a coherent thought. The only thing you can focus on is his cock stretching your walls almost painfully, his grip bruising, his voice deep and low as he praises you.

"That's it mama, doing so good." he encourages, hips rolling slowly into your gummy walls. Then once again, he's got you in that fucking headlock, picking up his pace. All you can do is babble incoherently, the head of his dick mean as it kisses your cervix.

"You like that, don't you?" he taunts, his thrusts harsh and unforgiving. "Like when I fuck you like this, like when I use you like the dirty little slut you are. He’s fucking you dumb, all you can manage is out a drawled out mhm. “Yeah, that's it, baby.” And god, he's right. You do like it. You like it when he treats you like a ragdoll, when he uses you for his pleasure. You like it when he talks to you like that, when he calls you all those vile names. After all, that is how you ended up carrying his kids.

"E-eren," you sob, your hands splaying against the glass. His grip tightens, hips continually rocking into your slick pussy, the head of his dick massaging you in a way that has you seeing stars behind your lids.

"Fuck, please," you beg, tears welling up in your eyes. "I-I’m gonna cum!”

"It’s alright Mommy, I got you. Let me feel you." his words push you over the edge, and your walls clench around his shaft. “Oh my god!" he groans, your walls fluttering against him milking is own release. He doesn’t bother pulling out, pumping his load deep inside your cunt, his seed painting your walls white. And just like that, you were sucked back in with the Eren Yeager.

𝑅𝒮𝐸𝒫𝐸𝒯𝒜𝐿𝒮 all rights reserved. comments, reblogs and likes are highly appreciated ♡︎

[comatosebunny09]

heavy | sylus q.

— summary: who takes care of the person busy caring for everyone else? sylus. the answer is sylus. — cw: female!reader, fingering, unprotected intercourse, naughty things done in a bathtub, creampie, alcohol mention, pet names, slight choking, allusions to depression and anxiety, explicit language, praise kink, not proofread, kinda rough sex, mdni — wc: ~3.4K — dividers by: @grabby-smitten — now playing: truman show - merges & l3gion

It begins with a steady pressure behind your eyes. 

Untreated, it blossoms into something more intense, seeping through your temples like spilled liquid, and the pain borders unbearable. You can’t focus on your work, the harsh glow of your monitor worsening your plight.

You snatch your glasses from your face. Attempt to ease the pressure with kneading fingers. Pinch the bridge of your nose. Sigh. It’s useless; your vision blurs around the edges, and your head is pounding as if your brain’s seeking release from your skull.

You don’t notice Captain Jenna behind you. Jump when she comes to you in the form of a firm hand on your shoulder, voice soft. “You should go home to get some rest,” she suggests through a pitying smile.

You don’t protest. There’s more to her words than a simple plea. It’s an order, and you’re smiling small, already gathering your things and slinking out of your cubicle. 

You’re grateful for the reprieve. Maybe a restart will help ease the weight off your shoulders.

—

Something smells divine.

It jumpstarts your appetite, the rich scent of herbs and meat seeping through the cracks of your apartment door. You didn’t realize how hungry you were, your stomach snarling whilst you ease your key into the lock. 

You can’t remember if you left something in the oven. Can’t be bothered to recall much of anything, your head still pulsing like a war drum. Your curiosities are sated once you slide into your home, and the aroma is stronger here. Hearty, nearly lifting you into the air to carry you to the kitchen like one of those old-school cartoons.

You meander into your kitchen after dropping your pack by the door—by a pair of designer, red-stained loafers twice the size of your own feet. Your suspicions are confirmed when you catch sight of a familiar shock of white and broad shoulders nestled between your humble decor and drab cabinets.

Never mind how he got here because you’re reining in a giggle. He’s wearing the frilly Kiss Me apron you got him as a joke gift a few months back. Humming something, bobbing his head before he acknowledges you over a broad shoulder. His scarlet eyes are mirthful, and the soft grate of his voice is enough to put you to sleep.

“You’re home early.”

You smile, tired and swollen-eyed, leaning against the doorframe. Study him over crossed arms. He’s busy with something on the stove. Concocting something delicious, and your stomach reminds you that it’s empty and you’re cruel.

“Jenna kicked me out.”

His shoulders shake with a chuckle when he returns his attention to the pot and wooden spoon in his hands. “Good. I take it you’ve only sustained yourself on coffee and air today.” Stopping, he peers at you again, a knowing lift to his brow. 

You sputter, the heat of embarrassment prickling your neck. He knows you too well. You’re an ass who often neglects yourself, pushing food and sleep to the backburner in favor of shouldering everyone else’s burdens. 

You pout, caught red-handed. The man in your kitchen chuckles. Sets the spoon down, and you watch him stride across the tiles for something. 

He comes to you with a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, already pouring the red, viscid fluid into a wine glass. Slender fingers brush over yours when he eases the glass into your hand. He angles himself to kiss you, full-bodied and red-blooded on the lips. A kiss that leaves you reeling. Craving more, the warm scent of his skin hijacking your senses as you tug on the collar of his shirt.

You whine when he pulls away, and he’s all smug smiles that crease the corners of his eyes when he steps back to tend to dinner.

A tide of warmth wades over your skin. You smile against the rim of your glass, grateful to have someone who knows you sometimes better than you know yourself.

Drinking might not be the best decision for you right now. But you haven’t the heart to tell him, watching with all the fondness of the world as he buzzes around the kitchen like a Disney princess.

—

Dinner will be ready in 30.

In the meantime, Sylus shepherds you into your bathroom, insisting you settle in with a bath. 

It’s lavender-scented inside your bathroom, the warm, wet steam washing over your cheeks. Greeted by the dull hum of the ventilation and the sound of rain lazily falling onto the world beyond your window.

You’re exhausted and hanging on by a thread. Don’t think you could manage the task of undressing on your own. So, he’s gentle as he props you on your counter, stripping you of your clothes, touching you like something to be revered.

His lashes bow when he swoops in to adorn your bare shoulders and the swell of your chest with kisses. Your body responds in kind when he nears your pebbling nipples, though he doesn’t grace them with the lazy drag of his lips. 

He promised you he would be good. At least until you’re washed up, fed, and comfortable.

He brands your skin to the crooks of your elbows, down to your wrists, your fingers. Catches your gaze when he kisses between the peaks and valleys of your knuckles, and the fire that burns beneath his irises sets your insides alight. 

Broad palms move down your sides, perch on your hips. He hefts you up with one hand fastened to your rear, and your arms and legs unconsciously shoot out to encircle him. He chuckles, swinging you ‘round, walking you to the tub. You’re the biggest baby when you’re tired, but he would never complain. He prefers you like this—all supple and pliant, desperate for the feel of his body against yours.

You watch the rose petals he sprinkled in your bathwater cling to your skin once you’re inside. And it works as a soothing balm through your person, the frothy water embracing you like a warm hug at the end of a tedious day. 

You sigh heavily, leaning back against the tub’s wall. Your eyes slide shut. You’re about to succumb to the pretty girls of slumber when the sound of shifting fabric alarms you. 

Sylus moves to leave, but your hands dart out to ensnare his wrist. He glances at you over his shoulder, a question hanging between his brows. 

“Stay,” you urge with a pout. Throw in watering puppy eyes for dramatic effect, laying the guilt on thick. 

He chuckles something hearty, settling onto the floor beside you. “I figured you could use some alone time. Besides, I’ve got dinner going. Do you want me to burn it? Cajun wasn’t on tonight’s menu, sweetheart.”

You huff. “You set a timer, right? It’ll be fine.” 

Truth is, he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to this plane right now. A constant in a world filled with turmoil. Your security blanket. You never mind him impeding on your time, your space.

“Shall I help you bathe, then?” He doesn’t await your response, already reaching across you for your body wash and loofah. 

He’s tender as he works the soap into a rich lather over your shoulders. Honey-slow, dipping between the valley of your breasts, snickering when you instinctively arch into his touch when the material catches on your nipples. Once he’s satisfied your upper body is thoroughly saturated with suds, he maneuvers himself onto his haunches on the floor.

“Sit up,” Sylus instructs. You sluggishly obey, bowing forward to grant him access to your back. 

Lids shuttered, a content hum eases from your throat as he works out the knots and strain of your back. Smooths the loofah down the ridges of your spine, encircling one shoulder blade before moving onto the other. He’s gifted, trained in the art of your body. Knows just where to touch, to massage to get the cogs in your mind turning and your breaths evening out.

He dips the loofah into the water, and you giggle as it slides between the swell of your ass and the tub’s floor.

“Well, I can’t exactly get you clean when you’re sitting down like this.” 

Your gaze shifts to his. His eyes darken with something familiar, a smirk curving one corner of his lips as he salaciously cocks his head. 

You feel a pull in your tummy, and your lashes flutter, lips parting slightly. Without thinking, you position yourself onto your hands and knees, the water lazily sloshing about and licking your thighs. Curiously, you peer at him from over your shoulder and waggle your ass, playfully signaling for him to finish up.

Resigned, amused, Sylus works the loofah over the globes of your ass. Up and down the backs of your thighs. And it’s purposeful when, with each pass, he grazes your fat labia, peeking through the plush of your thighs. You shudder each time, a pleasant sigh escaping your mouth, and you wiggle to chase the harsh drag of the loofah, if only for him to mistakingly graze your clit with it.

He tsks behind you. “Sweetheart, we agreed this would only be a harmless little bath.”

How harmless could he expect it to be with him looking at you like that? Touching you like that, his palm branding your thigh whilst an errant thumb kneads the muscle there, dangerously close to the outskirts of your cunt?

“I changed my mind,” you relent in a breathy, needy whisper. And you’re rocking your hips this way and that, trying to lure his thumb into the catch of your pussy.

He laughs again, the sound of it murky, and you feel it furling in your chest. “As you wish.”

Your body vibrates with anticipation. You’re not made to wait long, a virile, wide palm stroking your legs apart. Soon after, you feel his thumb stroking down the expanse of your slit, and you jump, a shudder racking through you.

“Easy, darling,” he coos. Voice is thick as bourbon, and his thumb even thicker as he dips just the tip of it into your puckering sex.

He moves maddeningly slow as he collects some of your nectar on his thumb, smoothing it between your folds in search of your clit. He finds it with laser precision, stroking the distended pearl to life with meticulous circles that leave you baring down on nothing and moaning against the grit of your teeth.

A hand fastens around your hip. Massages one of your cheeks, holding you steady whilst he fucks his thumb into you slow and consistent, and the sticky squelch of your cunt soon fills the atmosphere as he works you into a mess of shaking tendons and sighs of “yes, yes, please. More. Fuck.”

Spurred by your words, he alternates between fingering you—trading out his thumb for his index and middle digits—and rubbing your clit. Ducks in to blister your rear with kisses, and you jerk, hypersensitive to every sensation, every sound. He pants softly behind you. Enjoys himself, watching you fall apart around his fingers, his girth pushing against the seam of his pants. He palms himself, kissing closer to your labia, the scent of it bewitching, and he wills himself not to add his tongue into the fray.  

He curls and pistons his fingers inside you, a frothy ring of lubricant collecting around the base of his digits. He eases a palm over the curve of your stomach to massage your tits and pluck your nipples, sweltering breaths fanning across your spine. 

You’re pushed closer to the precipice, towards that slurry edge of bliss. He murmurs words of praise against your skin, and you hump against his fingers like a beast in heat, chasing that sparkling rush. Chasing that crest of pleasure in your stomach, eyes screwed shut. Just a little longer. Just—

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” Sylus quietly demands, pressing against that unfathomable knot of pleasure inside you. 

And as if he has some sort of hold on your body, the world falls away from you at his behest. Your orgasm ripples through you, spilling like lava, pooling in your stomach, and dripping to your extremities. Your mouth opens with a gasp. A shaky exhale with his name in it, and you pitch forward, catching yourself on your hands last minute before you nosedive into the water. 

He laughs behind you, roosting one hand on your hip and the other on your stomach to steady you. “Good girl,” he croons, rubbing your pulsing cunt with his fingers. “You look so fucking sexy when cum like that.”

You shiver, clearly overstimulated, and he resigns to help ease you back onto your rear in the bathtub, kissing the sensitive space behind your ear. 

He lures you into a languid kiss with gentle fingers beneath your chin. Licks into your mouth, groaning his approval as you lazily return his affections, loose-limbed and spent.

You prop the back of your head on the tub’s rim, lips still sealed to his, and Sylus rubs up and down your body to encourage you back down from the clouds. You whimper into his mouth when he pinches your nipples, catching his hands to twine your fingers together, the stimulation too much. 

He greedily milks what remains of your voice from your throat before drawing away from your lips with a sticky click to pepper your throat and shoulder with apologetic kisses. 

When your heart beats something steady, and your labored breaths slide into something more even, Sylus peels away. “Dinner’s ready,” he purrs, grin all toothy, smug.

You track his movements to the door through hooded eyes, a satisfied cant to your lips whilst you sink to your chin into the water, mind a delicious slurry and the tension between your shoulders nearly gone.

—

“You’re insatiable,” he breathes, hot and wanton, against your hinged-open mouth. 

You have him notched between your splayed legs on the kitchen counter, and his hands are on an unhurried mission over your thighs whilst you kiss him. Your arms snake about his shoulders, fingers, easing into delicate locks of white, and you slant your mouth possessively over his, sealing your bodies together.

Dinner cools on the stovetop. Stuffed chicken breasts, garlic mashed potatoes, roasted asparagus. All a labor of love that you promise to consume after you’ve consumed him, pushing your greedy tongue into his mouth.

His groan vibrates your tongue whilst his thumbs ease over the inner cut of your thighs, and he grazes your outer labia with each pass, sending satisfying jolts of electricity throughout.

The bath renewed you. Cleared the fog from your mind, stoked the fire of your libido. Which is why you ambushed him in the kitchen, seducing him into fucking you when he was just about to set the table. 

Your body rolls like waves licking the shore against his, your nipples rubbing against the harsh fabric of his shirt. 

He’d peeled the straps of your negligee down your shoulders, bunching the neckline beneath your tits. 

“Fuck me,” you exhale, grappling with the catch of his belt. Hands perched on your waist, he peers into your eyes, brows knit with the strain of reining in his desire.

“Can I at least get you to the bed first,” he breathes, gritting his teeth when your lips brand his Adam’s apple.

“Nope.” You finally pull his belt free, and you busy yourself with unbuttoning his pants.

He chuckles darkly. Shakily, propping his hands on the countertop on either side of your thighs, letting you do terribly distracting things to his neck with your mouth. He sucks in a breath when you palm him, hand hot and searing against the cotton of his briefs. Cranes his head back, and you exhale all triumphantly against his throat, hand dipping beneath the elastic waistband to fish him from the confines of his underwear.

“Fuck,” he curses through swollen lips. Cheeks dust with a pretty shade of crimson, and he twitches each time your hand smooths over the leaking tip of his cock. Each time you stroke down the shaft, back up to thumb his slit, smearing his pre-cum over him.

“Fuck me,” you order once more, licking behind his ear. Draw his lobe into your mouth to nibble it, and he groans something bitten off, a pliant mess of muscle and sinew beneath the artful glide of your hand.

With no further goading, Sylus encases your hips with his hands. Drags you impossibly closer toward the edge of the counter, replacing your hand on his cock with his. 

He strokes himself so well. Your mouth waters from the sight, your sticky, bare pussy clenching with anticipation. The predatory gleam in his eyes reads as one of restrained desire. Like a beast subdued behind a cage, giving you an out, a chance to escape.

You merely swallow, enraptured by the sight of him so desperate for you. So eager when, moments ago, he was resistant to your temptation. He fists himself once more, his weighted hand swallowing up the bulk of his cock. He taps his heavy dick against your folds, the sensation curving your spine and siphoning an unbidden whimper from your lips.

He undulates his hips, rubbing himself between your folds, saturating his turgid flesh with your essence. And oh, it feels so good when his tip bumps the pucker of your pussy. He teases you with the prospect of fucking you proper, drawing himself out to repeat the motion from before, each time digging a little deeper.

When he finally eases home, nestled deep in the hot channel of your sex, your rigid walls ravenously sucking him in, you share a breath out. His chest heaves when he looks at you. The need that lurks behind his gaze makes your cunt flutter, and his responding groan is strained with the effort of keeping still inside you.

You lean back on your hands. Give him the go-ahead with a flicker of your lashes, and then he’s moving inside you. Fucking into you like a well-oiled machine, and he lifts the hem of his shirt to watch your union. 

You watch the steady ripple of his abs, wanting to chase the sweat that beads between them with your tongue. For now, you’ll settle for enjoying the feel of him. Throw your head back, your heels hooking into the backs of his thighs, keeping him in motion. Refusing to let him go. 

“Fuck,” he sighs. “Fuck, do you know what you do to me?” 

A sweltering hand curls around your neck, squeezing with enough pressure to bring your pulse thrumming to your ears. His thumb finds the hang of your bottom lip, drawing your mouth open to ease it inside. Your tongue darts out to sample the taste of it. Wraps around the worn pad, and you close your lips around it to suck. 

He fucks into you harder, your eyes rolling back as his balls knock against your ass. Reluctantly draws his finger from the hot suction of your mouth, splaying his fingers down your sternum to where your bodies convulge. 

“You feel so fucking good, kitten,” Sylus breathes. Thumbs your clit, your body convulsing. “So good, squeezing me like that. Taking me like such a big girl. Look at you. So fucking good. Ah, fuck.”

That sparkling feeling pools in your stomach again. You grit your teeth, bowing forward to roost a hand on his shoulder. Your gazes interlock, and he’s so fucking beautiful like this, that carefully constructed composure giving way to something primal. Animalistic, and his hair falls into his face as he grips your hip to the point of bruising, mooring you to the countertop. Keeping you steady for him to ravage you.

After some time of skin slapping and desperate moans saturating the air, he twitches inside you. Hips stutter. Head falls back while his mouth hangs open, and he sighs, so relieved with one final stroke, molten spurts of cum painting your insides a gooey white. Branding down the inner cut of your thighs, puddling on the countertop.

You tug him into your arms, blistering his neck with open-mouthed kisses and the soft rake of your teeth. He shudders, leaning into you, propped on his hands on the counter, face nestled between your breasts.

You share a laugh as you massage his scalp. Relieved. And you’re patient as he softens inside you, stroking over the broad expanse of his back, cooing affectionate words against the crown of his head.

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

felix and his gf being at saltburn and felix noticed ollie acting weird towards her and gets upset at him!!!!!!

The eyes, Chico. || Felix Catton x reader

A/n: YAY TY FOR THE REQUEST! PLS SEND THRU MORE

Warnings: fem!reader, Oliver being a creep, swearing, smoking, if there’s anything else lmk!

Wc: 826

Felix Catton Masterlist

Feeling Felix’s thumb rub circles on your back, you flutter your eyes open and are met with his smile. "Mornin', baby," he greets you, and you respond with a lazy smile, relishing the comforting embrace of his body. His chuckle resonates through his chest, a gentle vibration against you. "It's too early, Felix," you murmur softly, wanting to fall back into slumber.

"Breakfast starts soon, aren't you hungry?" Felix questions, a playful tone lacing his words. You shake your head. "Yes, you are. Don't lie. I can hear your stomach," he asserts with a laugh, and you can't help but crack a smile in response. "Fine," you concede.

You and Felix make your way to the kitchen, where the aroma of breakfast awaits. You greet everyone good morning, almost forgetting that Oliver is here at Saltburn too.

You don’t understand why Felix invited him over; they barely know each other. Even when you confront your boyfriend about it, he just says that he feels bad for him, that he's going through some things at home.

Honestly, he's sort of a strange guy. You always catch him looking away from you when you look at him, around school, his eyes widen the slightest when he sees you walking down the corridors, and then he focuses his gaze on the ground. One time, he even bumped into a pole because he wasn't looking where he was going.

But today, he seems even more odd. The unease is palpable as you sit down at the table. The morning sun streams through the windows, casting a warm glow on the scene.

As you and Felix engage in light morning banter, you catch Oliver staring at you. His gaze is intense, lingering longer than is comfortable. At first, you dismiss it, thinking maybe he's just lost in thought. However, the oddity of his behavior becomes more apparent as the meal progresses.

Oliver’s eyes follow your every move, and you feel an unsettling awareness of his gaze on you. It’s as if his attention is fixated solely on you. You exchange a glance with Felix, who seems oblivious to Oliver’s strange behavior at first.

You try to focus on your plate, on the conversation with Felix, but the weight of Oliver’s gaze is distracting. It’s not the kind of attention you want or need, especially coming from a guy who's already odd enough.

You try to enjoy breakfast, but the uneasy feeling persists. Oliver’s eyes seem to follow you, and you sense a strange tension in the air. However, as the minutes pass, even Felix begins to sense the unease in the air.

“You alright, Ollie?” Felix's timely interjection is a relief. Oliver shifts his focus from you to Felix and responds with a casual, "Hm? Oh, yeah. I'm good." A smile graces his face as he savors a spoonful of breakfast as your eyes flicker between the two, watching the interaction. You can't help but wonder if Venetia or Farleigh picked up on the awkward tension in the air.

As breakfast concludes, you can’t shake off the lingering discomfort. “Remind me why you brought Oliver to Saltburn again?” You question your boyfriend beside you as you continue your skincare routine.

Felix, sensing the need for discretion, swiftly moves to the door leading to Oliver's room. "Shh, don't be so loud," he cautions in a hushed tone, closing the door behind him with a sense of urgency.

"Darling, I know he's been acting weird—" Felix begins, coming up behind you, but you swiftly cut him off. "Oh, he's been acting more than weird. I could barely focus at breakfast with his eyes on me," you huff, applying sunscreen to your face, preparing for a day out in the sun by the lake. The tension in the air is palpable as you address the unease surrounding Oliver's peculiar behavior.

"I know, I know. He just has a... tendency to stare. He's probably admiring how gorgeous you are. Aren't you used to the stares?" He bends down to kiss your cheek, and you roll your eyes in response.

"He should know it's rude to stare," you say in a sing-song voice as you pack up your skincare products. "Don't mind him," Felix adds, his large hands wrapping around your bare stomach, giving your hips a slight squeeze.

The hot temperature outside and the high UV ray lead you, Venetia, Farleigh, Felix, and Oliver outside to lounge by the lake. As you settle on the blanket, the odd tension with Oliver becomes more pronounced. He positions himself nearby, and you catch him stealing glances at you.

It’s not the casual glances friends share; they're lingering, intense stares that make you uneasy. You exchange puzzled glances with Venetia, both of you trying to make sense of Oliver’s peculiar behavior.

“That Oliver has a staring problem, doesn’t he?” Venetia comments, readjusting her sunglasses that sit on her nose. “You saw the stares this morning right?” You turn your head towards her as she does the same. “I think everyone could sense the awkwardness between you two.”

You sigh, closing your eyes and turning your head back. “He’s so strange. I still can’t wrap my head around why Felix invited him here.” You try to focus on the conversation with Venetia, hoping to ignore Oliver’s odd glances. However, his behavior persists.

As you and Venetia engage in conversation by the lounge chairs, Oliver’s attention seems solely fixed on you. It’s as if he’s not present in the moment, lost in his own thoughts. The picturesque surroundings lose their charm as the atmosphere becomes charged with an unspoken tension.

“Is he looking,” You say lowly to Venetia, who discreetly looks behind you before humming. “Fucks sake,” You groan, turning your head only to find his eyes looking at his hands. Rolling your eyes, you gravitate your gaze to Felix right beside you.

Felix, sensing the unease, stands up to move his chair closer to yours, a protective gesture that doesn’t go unnoticed, especially when he places his large hand on your thigh. You appreciate his presence, but the situation with Oliver casts a shadow over what should have been a carefree day by the lake.

The discomfort peaks when you decide to take a break and lie down on the blanket, soaking up the sun’s warmth. Venetia joins you, and you both close your eyes, attempting to find solace in the peaceful surroundings.

However, Oliver’s peculiar behavior doesn’t wane. As you lie there, eyes closed, you sense his eyes on you, a prickling awareness that mars the tranquility of the moment. You open your eyes to find Oliver glancing at you again, a furtive gaze that makes you uneasy.

Venetia, too, notices the strange dynamic and shoots you a concerned look. You spot Farleigh and Felix in deep conversation, Farleigh glancing at Oliver from time to time before giving you a look, silently communicating the shared discomfort.

“Fuck this, I’m going to take a bath,” You mutter annoyed as everyone watches you get up from your towel. Perching your sunglasses on your head, you walk over to Felix. “I’m going to take a bath,” You lean down to kiss him as he hums.

“I’ll come join you in a sec,” He says, his hands toying with the strings on your bikini bottoms. With a brief exchange of nods, you make your way back to Saltburn and to Felix’s bathroom, which connected to Oliver’s room.

The cold water is already calling your name, promising respite from the tension that clings to the air. Closing the door behind you, you take a deep breath, hoping the solitude of the bath will provide the sanctuary you need.

Little do you know that the shadows of unease follow you into the bathroom. As you start to run the water, the events of the morning replay in your mind. The odd glances, the tension at breakfast—all of it weaves into a disconcerting tapestry.

Stripping off your bikini-clad body, you let out a moan of relief when your warm body makes contact with the cold water. Lighting up a cigarette, another sigh of relief escapes you.

Unbeknownst to you, Felix decides to retrieve something from Oliver’s room. As he opens the door, the scene before him freezes him in his tracks. Oliver, standing too close, is peering through the crack of the bathroom door, watching you in the bath.

Felix’s initial surprise gives way to a flash of anger. “What the fuck, Ollie?” he exclaims, his voice cutting through the silence. Your heart skips a beat as you hear the commotion outside. You hear Felix yelling as you quickly get out the tub, wrapping a robe around your naked body before emerging from the bathroom.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He screams as Oliver stammers, caught red-handed, unable to form a coherent response. You move beside Felix, rubbing your hand up and down his arm, trying to ease him down.

“You can’t just invade someone’s privacy like that,” Felix continues, his tone sharp. “What were you thinking, watching through the door like some creep?” His eyes were blown out, his face red as Oliver just stood there distressed.

“That’s so fucked up, Oliver.” You say quietly, though your tone and glare were ice cold. Oliver, looking sheepish and guilty, attempts to explain himself. “I-I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry.”

Felix’s frustration deepens, and he points out, “Sorry is going to cut it, mate. What’s been going on with you? The staring, the weird glances—it’s not normal, man. We’re supposed to be friends. She’s my girlfriend, and you’ve been creeping her the fuck out!”

The room is charged with tension as the two friends face off. Felix, normally calm and collected, is visibly shaken by the breach of trust. You stand there, wrapped in a towel, feeling a mixture of concern and disgust for Oliver and an urge to comfort Felix.

Oliver, fumbling for words, finally admits, “Y/n, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I messed up, and I completely understand if you’re mad.” Felix lets out a dark laugh, throwing his head back as Oliver gulps.

“Mate, we’re more than just mad. What you did is so fucking wrong,” Felix spat as Oliver says nothing but nods his head lightly. "I think it’s best if you leave, Ollie," you tighten the robe around your body as Felix lets out a deep sigh, running his hands through his hair as Ollie nods, his gaze on the ground.

“Of course. I’m sorry again,” he apologizes as you give him one final look, grabbing Felix’s arm and pulling him with you back into the bathroom. Felix looks over his shoulder at Oliver, slamming the door shut and locking it.

[incognit0slut]

hii, i love you’re writing and i have a song request idea. the song too sweet by hozier would be so cute it could be angst to smut and it could happen late morning or late at night since the lyrics. idk if it makes sense i just thought it’d be cute 😭. again i love your work sm okay, ty, bye 🫶🏾💖🫶🏾💖🫶🏾

Spencer thinks you’re too sweet for a damaged man like him.

Warnings: (18+) Professor Reid x Student Fem Reader. Age gap (he’s in his 40s or post-prison era, Reader is in her 20s). Angst and smut. 2.8k words A/n: anon I took your request but I changed it a little to how I interpret this song… which means a lot of ANGST💔 I hope you don’t mind

He knew you were here. He always knew. The usual chaotic sprawl of books scattered throughout his apartment seemed to be in order, and there was a comforting scent lingering in the air that unmistakably belonged to you.

Although Spencer could never really put his finger on your scent. Sometimes you exuded a sweet fragrance, like the delicate petals of a flower, while at other times, a crisp, fresh aroma lingered around you, reminiscent of a morning breeze, or perhaps the soft scent of rain. 

But it didn't matter whether you smelled like a garden in full bloom or the crisp air after a rainstorm, the mere proximity to you brought him the peace he was all too familiar with, and that calmness enveloped him as he made his way toward his bedroom.

You looked like an angel. Sweet, calm, serene. His eyes drifted towards your sleeping form, and he couldn't help but wonder how you could sleep so well after the conversation you both shared this morning. The weight of your mutual decision to end things for good hung heavy in the air, yet here you lay, seemingly unaffected.

He watched the gentle rise and fall of your chest, each rhythmic pattern of your breathing seemed to draw him closer. One step, then another, until he found himself standing at the edge of the bed, looking down at you, vulnerable in your sleep. And then, as if pulled by an unseen force, he sank into the space beside you.

The bed dipped beneath his weight, and so did his heart. Spencer knew this wasn't the wisest thing to do. He was supposed to be the responsible one, after all, he was older than you. With age came experience, or so he believed, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he should be the voice of reason.

But as he lay beside you, he couldn't help but question his judgment. Was it truly wisdom that guided him, or was it simply the fear of facing the unknown? Age and maturity seemed like a flimsy construct now, overshadowed by the raw intensity of his emotions. With a heavy sigh, he placed a hand on your waist.

One touch, he told himself, one touch was all he would allow himself.

You felt the warmth of his touch seeping into your skin, grounding you in the present moment. Spencer watched intently, well aware he should have pulled back, yet, despite his better judgment, he found himself unable to let go, his grip on you tightening almost instinctively.

His gaze traced your face in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the window. Despite the early hour, your features seemed to radiate with a warmth that defied the darkness of the dawn. The lines of worry on your brow softened, your lips curved into a gentle smile, and for a fleeting moment, you appeared to embody the very essence of sunshine itself.

It was a peculiar sight, Spencer thought, considering how the world beyond the window remained shrouded in darkness.

"You're home," you muttered as if the word home was a concept you both shared. Perhaps it had once been true, or perhaps it was a dream that had never quite materialized. He felt a pang in his chest, a bittersweet reminder of what once was, or what could have been.

"You're not supposed to be here," he mumbled softly.

"I was going to give you back your keys, but you weren't here," you confessed. "And I wanted to wait for you."

A small smile tugged at his lips. "So you decided to wait on my bed?"

"It seemed like the most comfortable spot."

"You've always liked my bed."

You shook your head. "It's not the bed, per se. It's the feeling of being close to you..." Your gaze softened as you met his eyes. "Even when you're not here."

Time seemed to stand still as he met your gaze, a rush of emotions swirling beneath the surface. "I'm not here most of the time," he said after a pause.

"I know."

"That's not fair to you."

A heavy silence fell into place.

"I know," you replied quietly.

"And the next time we do see each other," he continued, his tone tinged with resignation, "Is when I'm standing in front of class with you sitting between the seats."

"Spencer, I know," you pressed, your voice barely concealing the ache in your heart. "We went through this conversation this morning."

"Then why are you still here?"

You held his gaze, your eyes reflecting countless emotions—sadness, longing, and perhaps a hint of defiance. "Because," you began softly, "I still can't bring myself to leave."

His heart clenched at your words, the weight of them settling heavily upon him. He had expected defiance, anger, perhaps even resentment, but your quiet admission caught him off guard.

"Why?" he asked.

You looked away. "You know why."

He knew the reasons, of course, he knew them all too well. But hearing them spoken aloud, seeing the pain reflected in your eyes, brought the harsh reality of the situation. He reached out, gently grasping your chin and guiding your gaze back to meet his.

"This is for the best," he replied quietly, though his voice wavered with uncertainty. He knew the words sounded hollow, even to his own ears, but he couldn't bring himself to admit the truth—that perhaps, deep down, he was trying to protect himself as much as he was trying to protect you.

"For me or for you?"

He hesitated, the lump in his throat growing heavier with each passing moment.

"For both of us," he admitted softly.

It was the truth, undeniable and painful. He couldn't deny the impact of your relationship if it continued down its current path. Not only was he much older than you, but he was also supposed to be your mentor, your teacher, your professor.

His role was meant to guide you. He was supposed to impart knowledge, not to engage in illicit affairs behind closed doors. He had allowed himself to become too invested in you, to give you more attention than was appropriate, more than was fair to his other students.

But it wasn't just about him anymore—it was about you. He couldn't bear the thought of tainting your pure, sweet soul with the darkness that came with him. He had done things he wasn't proud of, and made choices that he wished he could undo, and now, as he looked at you, he couldn't help but feel a sense of shame.

You deserved better than to be with someone who carried the weight of his past like a heavy burden.

"So this it?" You asked.

All he could do was nod. A lump formed in your throat as you struggled to hold back the tears threatening to spill over. "Fine. Just..." You paused, taking a shaky breath to steady yourself. "I'll leave as soon as you tell me the truth."

He felt a knot tighten in his chest as he waited for you to continue.

"Tell me you don't love me and I'll leave."

Your words hit him like a punch to the gut, the pain evident in his eyes as he struggled to find the right response. He knew that he had to be honest with you, no matter how difficult it might be.

But as he opened his mouth to speak, the words caught in his throat. How could he deny the truth when every fiber of his being longed for you? How could he let you go when you were the one thing he couldn't bear to lose?

"I..." he began, his voice faltering as he searched for the courage to speak the words you so desperately needed to hear. But no matter how hard he tried, the words refused to come.

"Say it," you urged. "Say you don't love me and I'll leave you for good."

Taking a deep breath, he met your gaze and braced himself for the pain his words would inflict on you.

"I don't love you," he whispered, the words feeling like a betrayal even as they left his lips. It was a lie, and he knew it. And yet, he couldn't find the courage to admit his feelings for you.

The air around you seemed to thicken with tension. He had braced himself for the pain his lie would bring, but nothing could prepare him for the look of hurt and disbelief that crossed your face at his words. You were the one who asked for this, yet hearing him admit to it so easily shattered your heart into pieces.

"You're... you're lying."

Spencer felt a pang of guilt shoot through him at the sight of your pain. He knew that he would regret what he was about to do, but he couldn't stand the thought of you walking away without knowing the truth, without knowing how much he truly cared for you.

So he closed the distance between you, his hand gently cradling the back of your neck. And then, without hesitation, he leaned in and captured your lips in a slow, deliberate kiss. For a moment, you were lost in the sensation, the warmth of his touch, the tenderness of his kiss.

But as quickly as it had begun, it came to an end, leaving you breathless and uncertain. You pulled back and searched his eyes for answers. "You're lying," you repeated.

He sighed heavily, his forehead resting against yours. "I-I don't love you."

Your chest tightened again. How could he say that when his touch was so tender, when his gaze held so much depth? Frustration and hurt boiled over as your nails dug into his skin, gripping his wrist firmly as you held his face close to yours.

"Stop lying to me," you pleaded almost desperately. "Stop fucking lying to yourself."

He closed his eyes. He knew that he couldn't keep lying to you, and yet, the words refused to leave his lips, trapped by the fear of what might happen if he dared to speak them aloud.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart as he pulled you closer, not knowing what else to do to ease the pain away.

So he kissed you again.

He kissed you as if he was apologizing, each gentle press of his lips against yours a silent plea for forgiveness. He kissed you as if he needed to convey his feelings that he couldn't express with words, his touch speaking volumes where his voice fell short.

He kissed you as if you were everything to him, as if the taste of you was sweeter than any other, as if he couldn't bear the thought of a life without you in it. He kissed you desperately and unapologetically, it was sweet yet painful, tender yet desperate, as if every moment shared between you was both a blessing and a curse.

You could taste the bitterness of goodbye on his lips, yet you couldn't bring yourself to let go, not when his touch still felt like home. So you pushed your tongue into his mouth, savoring the taste of him even as you knew it would only make saying goodbye that much harder.

Your breathing became heavy as you felt his hand glide down from your cheek to your neck. He then pulled away, his lips still tingling from the taste of you as he licked them unconsciously. His gaze followed the movement of his hand as it settled on your breast.

You could feel the tension between you crackling in the air, the desire that pulsed between you almost tangible, as he brushed your nipple over your shirt. A gasp escaped your lips as he continued to tease you, each touch sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your body.

You knew that this wasn't the wisest thing to do. You were both playing with fire and giving in to the temptation could only lead to more heartache. But you couldn't help yourself, not when your body was coming alive with the familiarity of his touch, not when you knew that this might be the last time you could feel him as close.

So when his hand slipped further down, tracing a path over your stomach, past your legs, you let him. The anticipation built within you as his touch hiked up your skirt, your breath catching in your throat. And when the rough pad of his fingers ghosted over the material of your panties, you found yourself instinctively spreading your legs apart, inviting him closer.

As the first electric surge rushes through you, the smallest of breaths escapes your lips, signaling the release of the tension you had been holding in your lungs. Your hands found purchase against his shoulders, nails digging into his t-shirt tightly as you felt him pressing onto your folds.

You both stared at each other, a silent exchange of emotions passing between you. There were so many emotions in his—sadness, frustration, and a burning desire that mirrored your own. And yet, despite the turmoil that raged within him, you found yourself unable to look away, drawn in by the intensity of his gaze.

As his hand worked its magic between your thighs, you felt yourself growing wetter by the minute, desire pooling low in your belly. And then, with a sense of purpose, he pulled his hand away, his fingers deftly finding the band of your panties as he coaxed the thin material down your legs. 

How did he manage to bring himself into this situation again? It was a familiar pattern, one that he had promised himself he would break, and yet, here he was, like a moth to a flame, irresistibly drawn to you.

Or perhaps it was more like you were a precious flower, delicate and beautiful, and he was drawn to you like a bee to nectar, unable to resist the sweet temptation that you offered.

Whatever the reason, he knew that he couldn't stay away from you. With trembling hands, he buried his fingers between your thighs once more, finally touching your bare, slick skin. The slickness of your arousal coated his fingers as he explored every inch of your delicate folds, each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

And then, unable to resist any longer, he pressed a single finger inside your entrance, the sensation causing you to gasp in pleasure. He moved slowly at first, savoring the feeling of your tightness enveloping him, before picking up the pace, his movements becoming more urgent and desperate with each passing moment.

"Please," you muttered, gulping and concentrating on the feeling of him slowly pumping his single digit in and out of your tightening, dripping walls. 

But what were you begging for? For him not to stop? Or for him not to let you go? Maybe both, and for now, the only thing he could do was give you the pleasure you so desperately craved.

He could feel the tension building within you, the way your body arched and trembled. And as he continued to pleasure you, he made a silent vow to himself—to give you everything he could at this moment, to make you feel alive and wanted, even if it was just for a fleeting moment.

So he continued to move his finger inside you, and as he felt you drawing closer to the edge, he knew that he couldn't stop now. His thumb found your clit, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from your lips as he applied gentle pressure. Then with a sense of urgency, he plunged another finger deep inside you, stretching you in the most delicious way possible.

Your grip on his shirt tightened, your nails digging into the fabric as you clung to him desperately. "Pl-Please," you begged, heavy eyes searching for his own. "Please don't leave me."

His heart clenched at the raw vulnerability in your voice, the depth of emotion written plainly across your face. He couldn't bear to look at you any further, so he buried his face in the crook of your neck, pressing tender kisses against your skin as his fingers continued their fast-paced rhythm.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice filled with anguish. "I'm so sorry."

His words were barely audible over the sound of your ragged breaths, but you heard him clearly, and a loud moan ripped out of you. This was the cruelest form of rejection; to find pleasure in his touch only to be denied the warmth of his affection. You wanted to push him away, to scream at him for playing with your emotions, for making you believe there was something more. But as his fingers continued their relentless assault on your senses, driving you ever closer to the edge of ecstasy, you found yourself unable to resist.

So you surrendered to him completely, because all that mattered was here and now—the ache between your legs, his lips worshiping your body, and the undeniable connection that bound you together, even as the world threatened to tear you apart.

[writingforstraykids]

THIS CHAN?? I WENT FERAL???!????

anyways 🤭 imagine you taking chan and him forcing you to look into the mirror behind the bed as he absolutely destroys your sweet little cunt😼

Ohh believe me, that pic made my thoughts run wild already so thank you!! Your request hasn't left my mind all morning so yeah...this happened real quick😂🖤

Right here with you, always

Pairing: Chan x femReader

Word Count: 1915

Warnings/Tags: fluff, smut, p in v, unprotected sex

A/N: Hope you like it, love🖤

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©writingforstraykids 2024-

male!version here

The cobblestone streets of Milan seemed to sparkle under the golden hues of the early evening sun as you and Chan made your way through the city. Milan was pulsing with life, its vibrant energy matching the excitement in your heart. Chan had invited you to join him on this glamorous outing, blending the worlds of high fashion and intimate togetherness.

You watched him from the corner of your eye, admiration blooming inside you. He was dressed in a blue shirt that highlighted the warmth of his eyes and complemented his dark hair. Chan suggested dinner at a small, elegant restaurant known for its secluded ambiance and exquisite Italian cuisine. Over plates of creamy risotto and perfectly aged wine, you shared stories and dreams, his laughter blending harmoniously with the soft notes of a violin playing somewhere in the background.

As the sky deepened into a velvety blue, Chan took your hand, leading you out into the enchanting night. Milan at night was a different kind of beautiful; the lights of the city reflected in the gentle ripple of the canals, the air filled with the subtle aroma of blooming jasmine. Walking through this cityscape with Chan, you felt as if you were part of a living canvas, every step painting a stroke of memories in your shared story.

Eventually, the night led you to his hotel, a place of refined elegance. Inside, the world quieted down to just the two of you. Chan guided you to the sofa in his suite, a soft, inviting piece that seemed to echo the plush luxury of your surroundings. As you settled into the comfort of the sofa, he pulled you gently into his lap, a smile playing on his lips.

“You look so beautiful tonight,” you whispered, your hands tracing the lines of his muscular arms, feeling the strength that lay beneath his soft shirt. “This blue shirt… it’s perfect on you. It makes your eyes look like chocolate; deep and endlessly sweet.”

At first, Chan blushed, a shy smile curving his lips as his gaze flickered away. It wasn't often that he heard such open adoration, even from you, his partner. Yet, the honesty in your voice and the warmth in your eyes encouraged him to accept your compliments. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer, his own confidence growing with the realization of how much you needed him in this moment.

“I love seeing you like this,” he murmured, his voice a soft rumble against your ear. His hands were gentle but firm on your back, making every nerve in your body sing with a pleasant tension. The room around you seemed to fade, the sounds of Milan's nightlife a distant echo to the intimacy that unfolded between the two of you. “Love how pretty you look in that dress,” he told you, hands fondling up your thighs and below the skirt. “Love how your body always searches mine,” he confessed, biting back a soft groan as you pressed down against him.

His lips met yours in a fierce kiss, hand shooting up into your hair. You kissed back eagerly, grinding down against him with soft, needy sounds. Chan's grip on your hair tightens, his hips chasing yours with a low groan.

As the kiss deepened, your senses overwhelmed by the gentle yet insistent passion between you, the world outside seemed to vanish completely. Chan’s hands moved with a tenderness that contrasted and complemented the growing intensity of the moment. He was skilled, knowing exactly how to make you feel cherished and desired all at once.

Your panties met the floor as Chan lifted his hips, shuffling his pants down enough to free his aching dick. He made quick work of preparing you, stretching you out with his fingers and kissing down your neck hungrily. You sunk down on him soon, moaning out loudly as he stretched your fluttering walls just right.

Chan's hands found your hips, steadying you in his lap as he started thrusting into you. “Fuck,” he whispered needily. “You feel so good, baby girl,” he told you, setting a fast pace.

You matched his rhythm, your movements fueled by the shared desire that connected you. The heat of the moment intensified, your bodies moving in sync as you rode him, each thrust deepening the bond between you. Chan’s eyes were locked onto yours, the intensity in his gaze making you feel both powerful and utterly vulnerable at the same time.

“Chan, please,” you whispered, your voice breathy and filled with raw emotion. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice a mix of passion and reassurance. His grip on your hips tightened, his thrusts growing more urgent. “I’m right here with you, always, pretty girl.” You hid your face in his shoulder, embarrassed of the weak sounds he pulled from you with each thrust. Chan's hand sunk into your hair, pulling you back up. “I want you to look at yourself,” he said, nodding at the mirror wall right behind him. “Want you to see how pretty you are like this.”

“Channie,” you whined softly but did as he told you. “Fuck,” you whimpered as his pace fastened, making you bounce on him.

His grip on your hips was firm as he guided you up and down, his thrusts growing more insistent with each passing second. The sight of yourself in the mirror, bouncing on his lap, your dress hitched up around your waist, your face flushed with pleasure, was almost too much to bear. The raw intensity of the moment made you feel exposed yet profoundly connected to Chan.

"Do you see how beautiful you are?" he murmured, his voice a low, guttural whisper that sent shivers down your spine. "Do you see how perfect you are for me? Only for me?"

The combination of his words and the image in the mirror heightened your senses, your body responding to him with an urgency that bordered on desperation. Your hands clung to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you rode him harder, the rhythm of your movements becoming frantic.

"Yes, Chan," you gasped, your voice catching in your throat. "I'm yours."

Chan's eyes never left your face, his gaze filled with a mix of adoration and raw desire. "Good girl," he praised, his hands guiding your movements with a steady, unrelenting pace. "I want you to feel everything, baby girl. I want you to feel how much I need you."

His words pushed you closer to the edge, your body trembling with the intensity of your impending climax. "Chan, I'm so close," you moaned, your head falling back as the pleasure built to a crescendo.

Chan growled softly, reaching down between your bodies and playing with your clit. The touch sent shivers up your spine, making you arch into him with a loud, whimpery moan. “Such a good girl,” he moaned, thrusting into you harshly, feeling his own climax creeping up on him.

“Please, Chan~,” you almost sobbed, a little overwhelmed by all the pleasure coursing through your body. “Need to - please.”

"Let go for me," he urged, his voice thick with emotion. "Let go, pretty girl. I've got you."

With a final, powerful thrust, you shattered, your release washing over you in waves of pure ecstasy. Your cries of pleasure filled the room, mingling with Chan's own groans as he followed you over the edge, his body tensing beneath you as he found his release.

You collapsed against him, both of you breathless and spent, your bodies trembling from the intensity of the experience. Chan's arms wrapped around you, holding you close as you both came down from the high.

"You did so well," he murmured, pressing soft kisses to your hair. "So beautiful, so perfect."

You snuggled closer to him, feeling a deep sense of contentment and love. "Thank you, Chan," you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude. "For everything."

He smiled, his eyes softening with affection. "Always, baby girl. Always."

The world outside the hotel room was a distant memory, the night in Milan a backdrop to the profound connection you shared with Chan. As you lay in his arms, the city lights twinkling outside the window, you knew that no matter where life took you, moments like these would always bring you back to each other.

-

Later, after you had both cleaned up and settled into the luxurious bed, the quiet intimacy continued to envelop you. Chan's gentle touches and soft murmurs of affection filled the space between you, making even the simplest moments feel special.

"Do you remember our first trip together?" Chan asked, his voice a soft rumble in the darkness.

You smiled, recalling the memory fondly. "Of course I do. How could I forget? It was magical."

"It was," he agreed, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm. "But this... tonight... it's even better."

You turned to face him, your eyes meeting in the dim light. "Why do you say that?"

"Because we're here together," he replied simply, his voice filled with sincerity. "Because every moment with you is better than the last."

Your heart swelled with love for him, and you leaned in to kiss him softly. "I feel the same way," you whispered against his lips. "Every moment with you is a gift."

As you drifted off to sleep in his arms, you knew that no matter what challenges or adventures lay ahead, you and Chan would face them together, your love growing stronger with each passing day.

-

The next morning, the soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. You woke up to the feeling of Chan’s fingers gently tracing patterns on your back, his touch a comforting presence.

“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice still husky with sleep.

“Good morning,” you replied, turning to face him. His eyes were warm and filled with love, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

Chan leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss. “How did you sleep?” he asked when he pulled away.

“Perfectly,” you said, your heart swelling with happiness. “How about you?”

“Best sleep I’ve had in a long time,” he admitted, his smile widening. “Being with you always makes everything better.”

You snuggled closer to him, savoring the peaceful morning. “I feel the same way,” you confessed, feeling a deep sense of contentment.

As the morning progressed, you both took your time getting ready, enjoying the relaxed pace of the day. The streets of Milan called to you, promising new adventures and memories to be made. But no matter what the day held, you knew that the connection you shared with Chan would remain the most beautiful part of your journey together.

-

Walking through the bustling streets of Milan once more, hand in hand with Chan, you felt a profound sense of gratitude for the love and happiness you had found. The city seemed to sparkle with the promise of new experiences, each moment adding to the rich tapestry of your shared life.

Chan squeezed your hand gently, his eyes reflecting the same joy that filled your heart. “Ready for another day of adventures?” he asked, his voice filled with excitement.

“Absolutely,” you replied, smiling up at him. “As long as I’m with you, I’m ready for anything.”

And with that, you both stepped forward, ready to embrace whatever the day had in store, knowing that together, you could conquer the world.

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[sofiascripts]

love in recovery ✧.*

pro hero bakugou x reader

when pro hero dynamite, along with some other heros, step in to assist midoriya during the intense ua finals, he finds himself accidentally injured and in need of treatment from the new recovery girl. assuming she follows the same procedure as her predecessor, he expects a kiss on the cheek to heal his wounds.

✎ wc: 3656

ׂ╰┈➤ warnings: cursing... and not proofread

when you had started at u.a. high, it had been filled with excitement and anticipation. every day had felt like a new adventure, with the hallways buzzing with energy from the promising students. you were new to the area, having moved into musutafu for the job, leaving all your friends and family back home. it wasn’t as scary as you thought it would be, and you had midoriya to thank for that. he started around the same time as you, and since he grew up in the area and graduated from u.a., he was more than willing to show you around.

you were no idiot; you knew about him way before his introduction. after all, the name izuku midoriya was synonymous with heroism, the man who had followed in all might's footsteps and become a beacon of hope for so many. but despite his accomplishments and fame, midoriya was incredibly humble. he didn’t mention even once that he was pretty much the sole reason you were here, working this job, and pursuing your own dreams. he could’ve easily let his reputation speak for itself, but instead, he chose to connect with you as an equal, as if he were just another colleague finding his place in the world.

you couldn't help but admire him for that. his kindness and humility made it easy to settle in and find your footing. he introduced you to a few of his friends and they welcomed you with open arms, he was always there with a smile or a word of encouragement, and before long, you found yourself feeling more at home than you ever expected.

this was your second year as the new nurse at u.a. high. your quirk, aura of restoration, allows you to emit a healing aura within a certain radius, gradually mending wounds, restoring energy, and alleviating pain for anyone within its range. it's a powerful quirk, capable of providing much-needed relief during intense training sessions and after battles. you can also focus your aura on one individual, which is especially helpful when the injury is serious because all of the healing is concentrated on them.

however, your quirk comes with significant drawbacks. the more people you heal at once, the more energy it drains from you, leaving you physically and mentally exhausted. on particularly challenging days, even maintaining the aura for a few minutes can be taxing. additionally, your quirk is highly sensitive to your mental state; if you're stressed or anxious, the effectiveness of the healing diminishes. the aura might flicker or fail entirely, putting those relying on your help at risk.

despite these challenges, you take great pride in your work. you often volunteer at hospitals to strengthen the capacity at which you can heal. you’ve become a familiar face to the students and staff, offering them not just physical healing but also a sense of comfort and reassurance. many students appreciate your presence, often stopping by not just for medical help but also for a few calming words or a bit of advice—or perhaps just as an excuse to get out of class. you appreciate it nonetheless!

today the atmosphere in ua was even more exciting than usual, it was lovely, you knew your quirk would be extra strong today. you continued down the hallways waving hello to your colleagues and stopping by the faculty room.

“good morning, mr. aizawa,” you greeted as you poured yourself a cup of coffee, the rich aroma began to fill the room.

aizawa glanced up from his papers, his usual tired expression softening just slightly. “morning,” he mumbled, taking a sip from his own mug.

“what’s the deal today? the energy in the building feels different—much stronger and very lively,” you remarked, leaning against the counter and taking a sip of your coffee.

aizawa raised an eyebrow, his gaze drifting toward the window where sunlight streamed in, casting a warm glow across the room. “some of the pro heroes are coming in today to help with the students' finals. it’s got them all worked up. they’re eager to impress,” he explained, his tone as calm as ever, but with a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“ah, that would explain it,” you said, nodding in understanding, “its going to be quite a show with all of them here.”

aizawa smirked slightly, a rare expression for him. “and some of the teachers are also looking forward to seeing their old students,” he added, a knowing glint in his eyes.

“oh? so we might see some of your former students too, then?” you teased, trying to imagine aizawa in a more sentimental light.

he shrugged, but there was a trace of fondness in his voice when he replied, “maybe. it’s always interesting to see how they’ve gro–

before mr. aizawa could finish, a cheerful voice cut through the conversation causing both your heads to turn toward the doorway “good morning, mr. aizawa! y/n!”

“goodmorning izuku! we were just talking about you,” you turned to aizawa and watched as he let out a loud and obnoxious sigh causing midoriya to raise a brow, but neither of you missed the way the corner of his lips twitched up, as if he was forcing himself not to smile.

midoriya continued toward the bagel arrangement, selecting one and slicing it open with practiced ease. “oh? all good things, i hope?” he asked with a knowing glint in his eye as he spread cream cheese on his bagel.

you took another sip of your coffee, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “what else could there be?” you replied, setting the mug down on the counter.

midoriya’s grin widened as he prepared his bagel, clearly pleased by the compliment. “guess i’ll take that as a compliment,” he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

you finished your coffee and placed the mug in the sink, quickly washing it before putting it away in the cabinet. “i heard your friends are coming in today. are you excited?” you asked, turning back to him as you dried your hands.

“of course!” midoriya beamed, crumbs falling from his bagel onto the plate as he spoke with his mouth partially full. “it’s not often we can all coordinate our schedules like this. it’s always great to catch up and see how everyone’s been progressing. they’ve been training hard as heroes, so i’m really looking forward to seeing how they’ve grown.”

you leaned against the counter, your smile softening as you watched him enjoy his breakfast. “i just hope they don’t rough up my students too much,” you said, a hint of concern in your voice. “i want everyone to stay safe and make the most of today’s opportunities.”

midoriya chuckled softly, his eyes filled with reassurance. “don’t worry. they’re professionals. they’ll push the students, but they know how to keep things balanced and constructive.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘♡︎∘₊✧──────✧₊∘ 

“DIE! DIE! DIE!” you swore you could feel the observation room shake every time that angry blonde yelled, even if he didn’t set off any explosions. 

you were stationed in a temporary office nearby the testing site. there were three battles at a time and you had nine screens, giving you three different angles for each fight.

you were in the middle of healing three students who had all failed their practical exam, the sadness in their voices was evident making you a little bit sad which caused your quirk to work a bit slower than you liked. the room was filled with the low hum of concern and the occasional sharp war cry from bakugou, whose frustration was clear even through the thick walls of the medical bay. his voice, filled with rage, echoed through the facility.

one of the students from tsukuyomis group, still visibly shaken, tried to explain the chaotic battle to you as you worked. “that was so scary,” they said, their voice trembling. “one minute i was trying to——and then dark shadow, and the next, i was—oh my gosh—out of nowhere, everything just went boom!”

you tried to listen attentively, nodding in fake understanding while focusing on your healing. you were pacing around the room, allowing yourself to spread the calm and healing aura to each of the three students around you. all had very minor injuries, which is what most of the students had when they came in. you were really nervous for pro hero explosion god something murder the dynamites students though. “GET OVER HERE YOU BRAT!” you tensed up for a minute and sighed, grateful that you had already gone through your training and never had to experience a mentor like that.

as bakugou’s furious shouts reverberated through the medical bay, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of emotions. his anger was intimidating, almost overwhelming, but beneath that fiery exterior was something undeniably impressive. it wasn’t just his raw power or the way he commanded attention—it was his unyielding determination, his refusal to accept anything less than excellence from himself and those around him. he pushed his group of students hard, maybe too hard, but it was clear that he did it because he believed in their potential. he saw something in them that they might not even see in themselves, and he was determined to drag it out, kicking and screaming if necessary.

“try to focus on your breathing,” you gently advised one of the students, she was one of the students that failed. you placed a reassuring hand on their shoulder, your aura continuing to work its calming magic. “you did well, remember, it’s all part of the process. everyone grows at their own pace.”

the student nodded, their breath evening out as they relaxed under your guidance. you could see the tension slowly melting away from their posture, and you were glad to see it. it was moments like this—when you could help bring someone back from the brink of fear and uncertainty—that made your job worth it.

“let’s get you patched up,” you said softly, moving to the next student, who offered you a grateful, if somewhat shaky, smile. 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘♡︎∘₊✧──────✧₊∘ 

you had just finished up with the last round of students, sighing in relief as you began to tidy up your small office. the day's paperwork had demanded most of your attention, so you were completely absorbed in clearing your desk when a sudden, loud thump made you jump. heart racing, you spun toward the source of the noise, fear gripping you as you realized you hadn't even heard anyone enter.

"got hit." the voice that broke the silence was gruff and low, tinged with irritation. you turned fully to see him—pro hero great god dynamite murder explosion, something like that—sitting on one of your beds, his usually fierce gaze narrowed slightly as he pointed to a small cut at the top of his forehead. your eyes widened, and your mouth hung slightly agape. bakugou was the last person you'd expect to see wounded by a simple training exercise.

but you quickly gathered yourself, professionalism taking over. "oh? pro hero dynamite got bested by a couple of kids?" you teased lightly, trying to mask your concern with a touch of humor.

his scowl deepened, though there was a flicker of something like amusement in his eyes. "first off, it’s pro hero great explosion murder god dynamite." he sank into the chair across from you with a grunt. "second, they made me go easy on those brats. 'course they got a hit in." he made a face, clearly mimicking someone else. "'told me i couldn’t just fail them all, it would ruin their self-esteem.'"

you bit back a smile as you began to assess him more thoroughly. the cut on his forehead was minor, but your trained eyes quickly scanned for any other injuries. as you reached for his wrists, you noticed two quirk-suppressing bands clamped around them. one of those could practically nullify a person’s quirk—two were overkill, even for someone as powerful as bakugou. your gaze drifted lower, and he caught you staring at his ankles.

"they slapped these on too," he grumbled, pointing at the heavy weights secured there. "said it was to 'even the playing field.' whatever that means."

you hummed thoughtfully, gently inspecting the quirk-suppressing bands. "they really didn't want you going all out, huh?" you murmured, more to yourself than to him.

he huffed, crossing his arms. "if i hadn’t been wearing all this crap, they wouldn’t have landed a damn finger on me."

he then pointed at the small cut on his forehead again, a slight tilt of his head making it clear he was expecting something. you blinked at him, confused for a moment, before the realization dawned on you. "you want me to... kiss it?"

"what, you think i’m here for a band-aid? just get it over with already.” 

you stared at him, half-expecting him to crack a smile and admit he was joking, but his serious expression made it clear he wasn't. and then it dawned on you, he thought you were like recovery girl. he thought that your quirk required a kiss to heal. 

despite the absurdity of the situation, you found yourself hesitating. he was in a foul mood, and it was probably best not to argue, so you let out a small sigh.

"right... sure," you muttered you. you leaned in closer to him, slowly activating your quirk before your lips lightly brushed against the small cut on his forehead, leaving a faint warmth behind. you pulled back quickly, your cheeks slightly flushed as you avoided his gaze,

“all set!” you say softly, you move over to your desk to once again busy yourself with your paperwork. he stared at you for a moment but slowly got up and walked to one of the mirrors in the room and stared at the spot where the cut once was, deciding that your work was good, he began to leave but paused when he heard you chuckle softly.

"what’s so funny?" he asked, his tone a mix of irritation and curiosity.

"oh, nothing," you replied, "just picturing you going easy on a bunch of kids. it's hard to imagine."

bakugou grunted in response, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward just slightly—a rare almost-smile.

"don't get used to it," he warned, "next time, those brats won't know what hit 'em."

you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, finally allowing yourself to smile as you watched him head toward the door. "try not to get hit again, dynamite," you called after him, half-teasing, half-serious.

he glanced back at you, smirking. "don’t hold your breath."

and with that, he was gone, leaving you alone in your now slightly less cluttered office, shaking your head in amusement.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘♡︎∘₊✧──────✧₊∘ 

you didn’t expect to see bakugou for a while—actually, you didn’t expect to see him ever again after healing him on the first day of finals. but to your surprise, he kept coming back to your office after every fight. each time, he had nothing more than minor scuffs and bruises, barely anything that needed attention.

he also always conveniently liked to show up after all the other students were gone. you couldnt complain though, it allowed you to focus on the students and it made it easier for you to maintain the little white lie that you were just like recovery girl. though you couldn’t quite figure out why he kept coming back, especially when his injuries were barely worth mentioning—a few scrapes, a bruise here and there, nothing serious. 

each visit left you more puzzled, wondering what exactly was going through his mind. was he really that concerned with every little scratch, did he have some sort of problem? 

eventually, curiosity got the better of you. after yet another visit where his injuries were almost laughable, you couldn’t hold back any longer. you leaned in slightly, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "so, bakugou, are you here for the healing, or do you just enjoy my company?" you teased, raising an eyebrow. "because these tiny bruises hardly seem worth the trip." you gave him a quick peck, still activating your quirk.

he brushed off your question with his usual gruff attitude. “told you, it’s about staying in top shape. can’t have anything slowing me down, not even a damn scratch,” he snapped, his voice laced with irritation. “gotta be at my best if i’m gonna be number one.” but as tough as he tried to sound, the slight redness creeping up his neck betrayed him. his eyes flicked away, avoiding your gaze like he was hiding something. despite his words, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to his frequent visits than just wanting to stay in peak condition. 

but you didn’t push. instead you gave him a small smile before moving back to your desk.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘♡︎∘₊✧──────✧₊∘ 

it was the last day of the students' finals and also your last day at ua before winter break. just like he had been doing for the past two weeks, bakugou was back in your office, sitting on one of the infirmary beds with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, waiting for you to finish up and give him a ‘healing’ kiss.

you were helping midoriya with something before bakugou arrive, and when he walked in, you hald expected him to demand your attention as he usually did, but he simply took a seat and waited. you glanced at him, surprised by his uncharacteristic patience, but decided to finish up with midoriya first.

bakugou sat there, silently fuming as he watched you and midoriya chatting away. every now and then, a soft laugh would escape your lips, or you'd toss in a teasing comment that made midoriya blush slightly. each time, bakugou's jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists as he tried to keep himself from blowing up right then and there. he was certain midoriya was dragging things out on purpose.

“thanks again,” midoriya said, glancing at the paperwork you'd helped him with. “not sure why they make these sites so difficult.”

“sure thing, zuku," you replied with a grin, your tone light and teasing. "but i gotta say, you're pretty hopeless when it comes to this tech stuff, huh?"

the nickname made bakugou twitch in his seat, his patience wearing thin. he couldn’t stand seeing you and deku acting all buddy-buddy, especially not when he was practically bleeding out of a deep wound in the middle of your office. it was about the size of a paper cut.

midoriya, ever observant, noticed the bakugou's odd behavior. a knowing smirk spread across his face as he decided to push his old friend’s buttons just a bit more. “i don’t think i’ve ever seen you visit recovery girl this much back in our school days, kachann,” he remarked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

bakugou’s glare sharpened, and he turned his head toward midoriya, practically daring him to continue. “what?” you asked, catching the tail end of their exchange, curiosity piqued.

midoriya's smirk widened, his voice lowering even further. “oh, nothing. just noticing how often you’re in here these days, bakugou. you know, back in the day, you couldn’t stand being patched up, always rushing out before recovery girl could even finish. funny how things change.”

bakugou’s patience snapped. he shot to his feet, fists clenched at his sides. “scram, nerd,” he barked, his voice low and threatening. “didn’t want old lady lips on me back then, and i sure as hell don’t want you flappin’ yours now.”

midoriya chuckled, holding his hands up in mock surrender as he stepped back. “alright, alright. i’m going.” he turned to you, giving you a warm smile. “thanks again. see you after the break.” with that, he left the room, leaving you alone with a still fuming bakugou.

you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh as you finally turned your full attention to him. “you’re really going to blow a gasket one of these days, bakugou,” you teased, walking over to where he was standing.

“shut up and just get on with it,” he grumbled, though the red creeping up his neck betrayed his embarrassment.

you couldn’t resist one last tease before giving him what he’d come for. “you’ve really gotta tell me, are you here for the treatment, or is it my company you're after?” you asked, a playful glint in your eye.

“just do your damn job,” he muttered, but you caught the faintest hint of a smile on his lips as he sat back down.

you leaned in, pressing a light kiss to the small bruise on his arm as your quirk activated. bakugou watched you closely, his irritation fading as the warmth of your quirk spread through him. despite his gruff exterior, he always seemed a little calmer after these visits, like the tension he carried with him all day finally started to ease up.

as you pulled back, you noticed his gaze lingering on you, a question unspoken in his eyes. but before you could ask, he stood up abruptly, heading for the door without another word.

“bakugou,” you called out, making him stop mid-step. he turned to face you, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. you gave him a playful smile, trying to keep the mood light. “be careful out there, wont be around to patch all those little scapes and bruises.”

he raised an eyebrow, his usual scowl softening slightly. “so?”

you shrugged, a teasing grin on your lips. “sooo don’t want those little injuries to add up and start slowing you down, especially with your fight for the number one spot and all.”

he huffed, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “no promises,” he muttered, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he turned and walked out, the door clicking shut behind him.

a/n: thank you guys so much for all the love on striking a chord like omg i lit cant believe it Agafhdsjhfjnwjen i love you all so so very much and appreciate all of the likes and reblogs <333 there will be a chapter very very soon and i hope you all enjoyed this little thang as a token of my appreciation, lmk if you want a part 2!!!

(*♡´‿` 人´‿` ♡*)ﾟ

part two: love in recovery: the unmanliest of pairs!

[kumkaniudaku]

Oral Assessment

Summary: When Asia's in need of a few lessons regarding matters of the bedroom, her colleague and friend, Kelvin, offers his expertise.

Pairing: Kelvin Harrison Jr. x Black!OC

Warnings: Mature Content (18+)

Word Count: 5.8k

MASTERLIST

When Asia set out on a journey of sexual discovery, the details of the how got lost in the time spent with the who. 

Being with Kelvin was the easy part. He was patient and kind, with a sense of humor that could trick the Pope into following him into a bar for a drink and conversation. Asia had no problem listening to him rant when he called to confirm plans or just to pick with her in his spare time. Of all her rash decisions, allowing him to usher her into a new phase of life felt the most natural. 

The most daunting task was standing in front of Kelvin while she debated whether to disrobe with another human in the room. She felt frozen as she stared into the full-length mirror opposite her bed. The reflection caught Kelvin's undivided attention, bathing her with an intense yet playful curiosity in anticipation of clothes hitting the floor piece by piece. 

He lay with one leg propped and the other stretched long, showcasing lean limbs under the outside clothes Asia complained about the moment he plopped his body on her bedsheets. He told her to calm down, not knowing that no amount of alcohol or centering breaths could break the stronghold fear had on her throat and lungs. She'd tried them both, only to be let down the second she opened her front door to hurriedly usher him inside.

Loosening up felt all but impossible. Asia could smell the woody mix of something she probably couldn't afford wafting off Kelvin's clean skin. At least it was a pleasant consolation prize for his insistence on committing her biggest pet peeve in only his second visit to her home. Asia knew she'd be smelling his lingering aroma long after he vanished into the city streets like an imaginary friend that she always talked about but could never prove really existed. A fresh haircut and groomed facial hair highlighted near-perfect features on a blemish-free face. Though he'd mentioned he had plans when they were done, she couldn't help but feed into the delusion that him being so gussied up was just for her. 

She chewed the side of her cheek in a desperate attempt to squash the nerves, tingling every nerve ending from her head to her toes.

"You act like you're afraid of your own body." Kelvin's accusatory observation cut through the tense air, making Asia jump from the sudden noise. He chuckled with a boyish grin, turning the corners of his lips upward and lifting his hand in faux surrender. "My bad. Just tryin' to break the ice since you been standing there for, like, five minutes doing nothing. We can always skip this one and go get drinks or something. It's cool." 

Asia rushed to clean up the mess she'd made in the thick of awkward contemplation." No," she blurted, trying to save face. "I'm gonna do it. I promise." 

She was going to get undressed eventually. She'd practiced on Facetime with Sabrina the moment Kelvin texted his plan for the weekend. She skipped over every line about wanting her to practice confidence in the bedroom to hyper-focus on the word 'naked,' then typed a wordy mini novel to her designated hoe friend, searching for a pre-game opportunity to work out the jitters. What she accomplished with Sabrina was long out of the window and somewhere inside, a girl who knew exactly what she wanted when a fine man was in the room. 

"I'm not afraid of seeing myself naked," she answered in a rush of air. "I love my body. It's other people seeing it that I'm afraid of."

A too honest truth. From the moment a boy in her third-grade class made her aware of her budding breasts that stuck out as odd in a sea of pre-pubescent girls, Asia became forced to reckon with the notion that other people had opinions about the way she looked and weren't shy about sharing them despite her discomfort. Her mother did her best to encourage her rapidly developing only child, but kids were brutal. And when they stopped being brutal during her freshman year of high school, they moved on to being too handsy and downright disgusting. 

The last time she undressed in front of a man, he spent the immediate seconds after she pulled off her beat-up Boycott Beyoncé t-shirt, pointing out how the abs she had when they met at a spring break pool party had disappeared after dinner. If she could've evaporated into a plum of smoke and made her escape through his hotel room's air vents, she would've done so without a second thought.

Kelvin took in her earnest admission with an understanding head nod. "I feel you. I took off my shirt at a bar in undergrad on some drunk shit, and the DJ yelled, 'Aye, who let the nigga with the concave chest get lit!' Kept my clothes on for two semesters after that." 

"I want you to know I'm laughing with you right now. Just a small chuckle. Barely a giggle, really."

"Yeah, alright," he volleyed back at her, all of his teeth on display in an alluring smile before joining her in the laugh she couldn't contain. "Look, if you're not ready, I mean it when I say we can do something else. But, you're gonna have to get undressed eventually. It's kinda the whole basis of sex." 

Asia scoffed. "You tellin' me you get naked every time you have sex. You're lying!"

"Socks off, girl. I'm not fuckin' around. You can't half-ass nothing. Gotta do it with your whole ass!" Kelvin's ability to joke in the face of serious matters infused the levity Asia had been trying to drum up since he stepped into her apartment. He watched her perm-rodded coils swing as she turned back to the mirror to examine her body again. Despite the sweet laughter that made her light up like a Christmas tree, trepidation had her tugging at the sleeves of her sweatshirt. Kelvin carefully slid to the edge of the bed and reached for Asia's hand. "Would it help if I did it with you?"

She looked at him through the mirror, studying his expression for signs of deceit before tilting her head as if asking her question before she could get it out. "Would you do that for real?" 

"If it made you feel more comfortable. Plus, I had a crazy chest session, and somebody has to see these gains." 

"That bar situation really stuck with you, huh?" 

"I'll never get caught lackin' again." They shared another laugh that soon tapered off into comfortable silence. Kelvin pulled Asia's fingers to his lips for a quick kiss that turned up the heat in the room more than any thermostat ever could. He looked up at her with deep pools of decadent dark chocolate he called irises. "You start, I follow," he spoke against her knuckles. "We go at your pace." 

Asia didn't give herself much time to weasel her way out of facing her discomfort head-on. She silently slipped her hand from his loose grip to grab her top from the bottom and pull over her head.

She felt lucky to be wearing a bra that hid the immediate hardening of her nipples once Kelvin stood up to mirror her fluid motion and remove his own shirt. Chest day had done him a world of good and then added more for good measure. Who knew he had all of that working for him underneath unseasonably thick hoodies and band t-shirts?  

Her ogling didn't go unnoticed, earning a smile from Kelvin with his bottom lip tucked beneath a row of pearly whites. A short glance at her bottom half convinced Asia to slowly step out of her leggings and leave space for him to peel off dark denim, never breaking eye contact with the woman dominating his thoughts for the better part of seven days. 

She shimmied out of her bra with his help to undo the tricky metal clasp, and he pantomimed doing the same to pull a laugh out of her before he took a seat at the edge of the bed. Kelvin pointed at the black boyshorts barely covering her behind and searched her eyes for permission. "Can I take these off for you?" 

Asia didn't answer with the words she was convinced sounded sexy as she rehearsed them in her mind. Instead, she gave him the green light with a whispered "yes" on her lips. 

Kelvin hooked his fingers at the waistband of her panties and gave them a sure pull to slide them down thick thighs and muscular calves until they pooled at her feet for her to kick into the pile with all of their discarded apparel. 

"You don't wanna finish," Asia questioned, the coiling of doubt in her belly convincing her that something about her caused him to stop short. 

He shook his head and dragged his fingertips along her hips, transfixed by the seemingly neverending expanse of beautifully dark skin. "Tonight is about you. I'll have opportunities." Soft, deliberate touches preceding butterfly kisses across her stomach sent goosebumps to crowd each spot lucky enough to receive his affection. He paused his exploration to look up at her with his lips hovering above her navel. "Not so bad, huh?" 

"Mm-mm," she forced out, too focused on soft lips kissing hot skin. Anticipation made her breathing shallow and her thoughts cloudy. Kelvin and every intentional squeeze, kiss, and nibble slowly chipped away at residual apprehension.

"Your body is beautiful." His compliments sounded like poems in flowery Shakespearean language written for her ears alone. He continued his praise after a kiss on her hip. "It's not enough for you to hear it, though. You gotta know how beautiful you are. Know it like you know your name."

Shit. What is my name? Asia thought to herself as Kelvin looked up at her expectantly. "Asia," she spoke as if he'd asked her to confirm what her mother named her 30 years ago. She blinked and shook her head from side to side to clear up unprecedented brain fog. "That's my name. And my body is beautiful."

He smirked up at her just as his slender fingers made acquaintance with the cuff of her ass. "What makes your body feel beautiful?" 

Squatting her body weight for the first time initially came to mind. Then the fleeting thought of her favorite pair of jeans that made her rear sit up like Tracee Ellis Ross's ass when she was Joan in Girlfriends. Asia took a meandering stroll through a collection of memories and scenarios until she landed on the one constant that could get her closer to the promised land. 

"Touching…myself." The admission induced a glimmer of bubbling interest in Kelvin's eyes, silently urging Asia to say more. "When I was in high school, an issue of Cosmo that I read at the hair salon when my mom wasn't looking said to try doing it in the mirror to feel sexy. So, I waited until she went to work one Saturday, and I tried it…" 

Her words trailed, leaving room for Kelvin to nudge her toward filling the gaps. "Did it work?" 

"When I finally got the courage to do it in college, yeah," she shared after a small huff of a laugh. "It's the first time I felt like I had power over my pleasure. If no one else was gonna make me feel good, I knew I could."

"Would that make you feel beautiful right now?" 

It'd certainly make her feel something. Beautiful. Electrified. Satiated. Nasty in all the right ways. All of those things wrapped up into a ball of inescapable pleasure that she was almost too afraid to touch with a ten-foot poll.

Almost.

Kelvin waited for Asia to answer with bated breath, hoping he hadn't overstepped or pushed her too far out of her comfort zone. The last thing he wanted was to squander the trust he worked to build because he couldn't keep his carnal nature in check.

His I'm sorry ran headfirst into her, I think it would, creating a harsh cacophony of overlapping sentiments that made them both giggle like school kids flirting in the back of the classroom. 

Flattening his palms on her back to inch her just a little closer, Kelvin's short chuckle came through as a low rumble. Asia noticed how his face softened when he gazed up at her with his chin pressed into her abdomen. Care? Admiration? Mutual desire? Likely none of those, but she allowed herself to dream while Kelvin attempted to get to the bottom of her desires. "What do you want?" An open-mouth kiss felt like a livewire across Asia's skin, stealing the ability to think and robbing her of words to answer such a simple question. 

Arousal, the full range of throbbing, aching, and craving, blossomed in her belly with every peck above the freshly shaved skin covering her pubic bone. She anchored her hands on his shoulders and gripped just enough to keep her upright when her knees tried to betray her and turn into jelly.

"I want to…try," she finally breathed out, the words almost a whisper that she felt compelled to repeat. "I want to try with you. Right now." 

When Asia decided to embark on a journey of sexual discovery, he hadn't envisioned a world where she'd be under the unwavering supervision of her goofy coworker while she slowly coaxed herself to completion. 

This was too taboo, too private, and dirty to share with another person. She wasn't supposed to be gathering slick arousal on the tips of her fingers and using it to lubricate languid revolutions around her pearl and letting Kelvin kiss a trail from her shoulder to her ear and back. Under no circumstances was she supposed to grind her hips with her eyes slammed shut to focus on the task she'd done alone so many times before. And she damn sure wasn't supposed to be suppressing airy gasps and quiet curses as the rewards of self-pleasure slowly approached. 

"Why you hidin' that pretty voice from me?" Kelvin's question came in a low rumble from lips freshly moistened by an eager tongue looking for a job to do. He pressed his chest against her arm while she worked her wrist and fingers against the spot where all her nerve endings seemed to converge for an orgasm festival she didn't know would overflowing with partygoers. 

He walked his fingers up Asia's inner thigh and smirked against her neck. "Let me hear something." 

A shallow breath helped her force out a quiet expletive. "Fuuuuck."

"You can do better than that," he teased, a slow grin crinkling the thin skin at the corners of his bright eyes. "Try again." The insistent nudge of his nose against her jaw urged her to take another crack at adding audio to the graphic mixture of senses. 

He could see her lower lips and pearl glistening with beautiful arousal, feel her skin growing warmer beneath his hands, and could almost smell the mouth-watering aroma of her pussy if he focused hard enough. But he wanted to hear her. He needed to get an earful of her crying out in ecstasy for her sake and his. Having the memory stored deep in the grooves of his constantly racing mind to use when he had a moment alone was almost as important as helping her find the courage to embrace the sexiness she already possessed. 

Asia's body buzzed in a shudder just as her mouth dropped open and her lower back arched off the bed. "Oh…fuck!" Another outburst came forth before she could stop it. "Shit." Abandoning its job to keep her lower lips parted for easier access, Asia's left hand crept up her body to pull and pinch at her nipple. But it wasn't enough. For the first time, she needed the touch of another to get the job done. What a colossal mismanagement of resources would it be if she didn't put her instructor to work? "Can you touch me? Please?" 

Kelvin hoped he didn't appear too eager when he jumped at the chance to cup his hand beneath the curve of her breast, squeezing slightly as his thumb rubbed against the hardened brown tips standing straight for his attention, leaving her left hand to busy itself with clinging to his bicep. 

She moaned from the sensation, and he hummed back in satisfaction before dipping his head to kiss a spot above his thumb. That voice. He'd miss it long after they were done with their little experiment. And after he was done missing the way filthy profanities cascaded from her lips like love songs, he'd move on to missing the vision of her legs spreading to offer him a better viewing angle. 

He spoke into her ear like he was sharing a secret in a room full of people. "I'm givin' you what you need? Check in with me." 

The absence of a coherent answer gave an idle mind time to roam – time to play with things it had only imagined in private up to this point.

Kelvin waited for her to catch a breath while he focused on the slow descent of clear saliva on its way to her areola. He watched it leave a wet trail down the swell of her tit, acting as a way finder to her nipples and found a disgusting joy in seeing a part of him coating her body. 

They groaned in tandem when he went to clean up his mess with a swirl and flick of his tongue. For a moment, Asia took a break from her self-exploration to palm the back of Kelvin's head and keep him latched for a few moments longer. 

"Damn, baby," she moaned, unaware of the slip of her tongue and the fire she'd lit inside of him. 

Her praises came in the kind of hazy, nearly incomprehensible slurry reserved for folks known to drown the troubles of yesterday, today, and tomorrow in a bottle of their preferred liver-wilting potion. To anyone listening, she sounded like she could use an Advil and a water bottle for hydration. But to Kelvin, her repetitive calls for him to suckle harder were nothing short of a concert crowd begging for an encore.

A covert shift in his position allowed him to pin her thigh beneath his before his hands took a deep sea dive between her thighs with only one mission in mind. Feeling her writhing beneath him while a guttural moan ripped through her throat from his digits taking the lead between her lower lips made him grin with her nipple still in his mouth.

Het body felt set ablaze, dipped in a fiery lake of passion and wanton desire that couldn't fully be quenched with hands-on contact. Asia needed to be touched from the inside and rutted into until her toes touched the soles of her feet. This moment of moderate pressure and intentional rubbing would have to do. 

Kelvin found himself so lost in feeling Asia being worked to the edge and pulled back over and over that he didn't catch her free hand sneaking toward his crotch to tend to what she knew had to be a painful strain against black cotton. 

His eyelids fluttered closed of their own volition, sparking uneven breathing, and his muscles seized from the unexpected touch. "You know what you doing?" he asked, half hoping Asia would abandon his lesson in confidence and take a step back.  

"I'll learn." 

Kelvin reluctantly peeled his eyes away from the show between her legs in time to catch her looking back at him like he was fresh water in a vast desert. Hungry. Like a lioness scouting the vast Savannah for the pride's next meal. 

Part of him wanted to tell her they'd work on those skills during their next time together. That part stayed quiet as she dipped her hand past the Calvin Klein etched into his waistband, past the thick hair curling at his pubic area, and, finally, to the appendage standing proud to greet its new best friend. 

His body grew rigid, then relaxed under her careful, exploratory touch. Handjobs, in his opinion, were childish relics from high school movie dates meant to remain nostalgic in the way that he would never return to the skinny jeans of his youth. Cool for the moment, but he'd evolved as one does when the age. This was something else entirely. Or maybe it wasn't, and the deed that he thought he was too old to desire and enjoy only needed the introduction of someone who didn't carry the baggage of how sex was supposed to go. 

Together, they worked each other into a frenzy with arms crossing invisible borders and residing down south with intentions of a photo finish. When Kelvin moaned a hoarse indicator that she knew what she was doing, Asia met him with a sound that matched his in perfect harmony. Her hands worked his shaft with little instruction while he pumped two fingers in and out of her dripping heat.

Every once in a while, he'd groan a directive like, "Slow down. Yeah, like that. Just like that." she'd mumble that she understood before following instructions like his star pupil.

Soon, Kelvin found himself more exposed than he had planned, and at the brink of a release he was saving for the quiet sanctuary of his shower. He had to stop her before he introduced her to more than she was ready to handle. 

His fingers slowed to a creep, drawing a whimper and involuntary clench from Asia as she focused on gliding her hands slowly up and down his member. "I wanna taste you. Can I?"

"What?" she questioned, not sure she heard him correctly. "I mean, yes, but I've never really…done that before." 

He kissed her cheek and lips to quell bubbling fear. "That's okay. Let me show you." Trepidation in her eyes prompted a slow, searching kiss to further calm surging nerves. Kelvin reaffirmed his commitment to her safety against her lips. "I got it. Enjoy this." 

"Can I kiss you here?" was Kelvin's first question, mumbled against Asia's inner thigh while he positioned his head between her legs. Every peck, lick, and graze of his teeth across supple skin made her claw at the sheets beneath them, then at the nape of his neck when the high thread count became insufficient. 

Somewhere in the ether, Asia heard the advice to brace herself. Still, she let it pass until the shock of his tongue across her clit jolted her head off the pillow to look down at Kelvin. 

This was what Sabrina, her sister, and all the women she admired via her secret subreddit interactions meant when they talked about seeing stars from their partner's tongue alone. She'd seen enough videos and worn her vibrator out to the thought of having a man dedicate his time to kissing her most intimate parts like he would the lips on her face, but every passing birthday had her thinking the day would never come. Now here she was, about to cum and so afraid of the overlapping sensations that she felt like she had to get away, but the firm grip of her thighs against Kelvin's fingers simultaneously kneading at her flesh kept her locked into place.

Undeterred by her squirming, Kelvin resolved to put on a show with bursting, colorful fireworks and end like it was Independence Day for them and them alone. Lapping at her like a man possessed, he coaxed her to the brink of release quicker than expected. She called for him under the haze of lover's bliss, trying but failing to get him to stave off what she knew was more explosive than any time before. 

She'd gone quiet again, stifling her moans behind the arm covering her mouth while the other extended to push at the sage green upholstered headboard occasionally knocking against the wall. "Louder." His demand came in muffled against her pussy, gruff and impatient like he'd been waiting all day for her to give him what he wanted. When she didn't respond in the way he'd hoped, his palm harshly collided with her outer thigh before soothing the spot, making her finally cry out to his partial delight. "C'mon. Louder!" 

"Ohmygoooood," she slurred, finally popping the lid on her voice, unable to stuff the near screams back into a container. "Th-they'll hear m-me!" 

"Fuck 'em. Let 'em hear." 

She only knew her next-door neighbor to the right, Alister, as a quiet redhead with two cats and a penchant for making foul-smelling fish dishes on Saturday evening when she had a small collection of women file into her apartment for what Asia assumed was some sort of book club meeting. On the other side, Marie and Carson were a nice lesbian couple who would say good morning and bring in Asia's packages if she wasn't around for more than a day. Asia didn't know these people beyond their infrequent passing encounters. She hoped that the noises she was making, the squealing and thick, husky moans hitting the ceiling and raining down on her, wouldn't alter their hopefully positive perception of her. 

She'd never heard them, but they were damn sure about to hear her and what her voice could sound like when she was in tears at the height of a shaking orgasm with her hands smushed against her gentleman caller's head.

If he remembered nothing else from the first time Asia Scott made his face shine in her bed, Kelvin would remember almost cumming himself from her taste. He'd call it sweet if someone pried for the details long enough, but the adjective wasn't enough to describe something he considered totally and indescribably unique. Something that he had to coach himself into pulling away from to watch her chest heave in the afterglow of his best attempt to date. 

While she let her eyes roll behind closed lids to come down from her high, he kissed his way past the meeting at her thighs, up her stomach glistening in a light sheen of sweat, on both breasts, then her stomach, on her chin, and finally her lips as his hands traced a path up the sheets to clasp their fingers above her pillow. 

They got lost in each other for an amount of time neither of them wanted to keep track of, tongues meeting and retreating while Asia got used to the taste of her body in his mouth. Kelvin couldn't help grinding his clothed erection against her naked core to judge her reaction. Asia rewarded him with a final moan that he swallowed with pride. 

He pressed their foreheads together and pulled away to ask, "How you feel?" 

"Incredible." Kelvin watched her smile in the kind of post-release euphoria that came with a goofy grin and the sheen of a job well done, confirming without words that lesson two was a resounding success. He dipped his head to kiss her nose, then each corner of her mouth, too drunk off of her body beneath his to realize that business was starting to blur into the performance of romance. "What's next?" Asia asked, internally hoping he had a few more moments to spare. 

A thought crossed his mind as he kissed his way to a spot underneath her ear. Though he tried to will it away and bid her good night in enough time to slink out into the night with no emotional strings attached, he couldn't keep his idea to himself. 

"Ride with me tonight." He pulled back to look into Asia's eyes and scan for any signs of pushback. She stared back at him, questions furrowing her brow and her teeth nervously grating her bottom lip. He gently smoothed a wayward coil back into place and softened his gaze, pleading for her yes.

Leaning up to kiss his bottom lip, she finally answered. "Okay, but you gotta have me home before midnight." 

---------

The clamor of voices filling a small warehouse space teeming with eclectic art types dressed like they were supposed to be on the cover of a special issue of Essence Magazine and not perusing an art installation on a Saturday night. 

"The Art of Storytellin'" was an immersive experience chronicling Black stories through a mix of mediums from a collection of Black artists dedicated to representing the full gamut of Black life across the diaspora. At least that's what Asia read in the brochure slapped into her hand as she followed Kelvin through the tinted glass doors into a space she would never in a million years venture into alone. 

He led her through a winding maze of canvases, framed photography collections, and strategically placed bar carts to take a gander at piece after piece of awe-inspiring work. At points, he would stop and point out artists he knew by name and some he only knew by their signature brush strokes and expression style. She listened intently while he explained subtle nuances that didn't immediately jump out to the untrained eye, relishing the opportunity to step deeper into his world. In a few weeks, he'd be back to his life, and she'd be back to spending her weekends curled up with a glass of Merlot and another Sex and the City rewatch. Tonight, she chose to give in to the whimsy of his spirited explanation and his hand on the small of her back to guide her through the crowd. 

In a corner partitioned with elegant white drapery to create a room, a single canvas called "Candy Lady" sat underneath a spotlight, shrouding it in diffused light. Kelvin stood back as Asia read the placard of information beside it, occasionally cross-referencing the words with what she could see with her naked eye. 

An angelic glow backlit her, and, not willing to miss the way she looked like art all by herself, he pulled his phone out of his back pocket to snap a picture for posterity. He stared at the photo with stars in his eyes, totally lost in what God had made.

"Rosé, sir?" The innocent question cut through his only thought, making him scramble to return to his home screen and save himself from embarrassment. The server waited for him to return her eye contact before pushing the tray in his direction and asking again. "Champagne? For you and your girlfriend?" 

Kelvin knew he should've corrected her but ignored better decision-making to hurry the interaction along. "Uh, yeah," he chuckled to relieve the heat rising in his cheeks. "I'll take two. Thanks." 

Balancing two plastic flutes of bubbling blush pink liquid, Kelvin slowly crept forward to join Asia's side. She stood still with her chin slightly tilted, still examining what was slowly shaping up to be her favorite piece of art in the building. 

He smiled at her profile for a moment before speaking. "You like this one, huh?" 

"Don't you," she gushed, looking up at an impressionist acrylic painting of a woman handing out bags of assorted candy,  multicolored freeze cups, and two-for-a-dollar pickles. Varying hues of brown hands fisting dollar bills covered the lower third. A stack of past-due envelopes sat near her merchandise, underscoring the slight frown in her determined facial expression. "My auntie was the candy lady, so I used to help her count money when it got busy over the summers. I guess it reminds me of being a kid and how fun that was." She finally turned to him to pull her back to the present and pointed at the drinks in his hands. "One of those for me?" 

Kelvin rushed to hand over one of the two beverages, accepting her silly toast before putting the plastic cup to his lips. He grimaced his way through the first taste of dry alcohol while Asia drank like a pro, making her laugh. "That shit is gross! You like that?" 

"Sometimes," she giggled. "Don't worry about it. I'll finish yours, too. Hold on to it for now." 

He tilted his head and smirked. "But I drank off this one." 

"I don't know if you know this, but you just had your mouth on my coochie, and you've been finding reasons to kiss me like I wouldn't notice," she laughed before switching their glasses and taking a long sip to Kelvin's surprise. "We're past the whole cooties thing." 

Noted. Kelvin chuckled, choosing not to add a rebuttal and return his attention to the conversation piece in front of them. "I know the artist." 

Asia looked at him and nodded. "Tell them this is amazing work. It's simple yet familiar. I'm so in love that I might have to come out of my home decor budget for this one." 

"I'll let him know. Him being…me." Kelvin watched Asia's face shift from confusion to realization to shock before she pushed his shoulder to punctuate the tinge of disbelief in her high-pitched request for him to tell the truth. "For real. It's old, though. It was a last-minute entry to help him fill out the exhibit. It's under a different name because I don't show my stuff all that often." 

"Scared people are gonna like it too much?" 

He chucked. "Yeah. Something like that."

The warm flutter of butterflies in his chest made Kelvin look away from his audience of one to pretend the ceiling needed his careful inspection. Anything to take the attention away from being complimented by the only woman to make him nervous since his first long-term girlfriend in portfolio school. She'd unknowingly sent him into a tailspin of self-consciousness and giddiness all at once, the unlikely mishmash churning his stomach full of hors d'oeuvres and awful wine.

Asia eyed him suspiciously until she felt satisfied that he was being honest and not the version of himself that couldn't help but prank her in the office. Then, she reached forward to scan the QR code for immediate purchase. She tapped at her screen, keeping her attention there as she spoke. "Well. Guess your fear just came true." Her eyes flickered up briefly to find Kelvin already staring back with both lips tucked into his mouth to keep his smile from growing wider than his face could accommodate. She used her head to gesture toward the R&B artist performing in the next session before depositing her phone back into her bag. "Let's go over here. Think we might've found some talent for Black At Work mixer next month."

Kelvin watched Asia's backside sway in time with each long stride while she weaved her way through the crowd in a beeline to the makeshift stage, leaving him to beg his feet to move behind her. 

Stuck. She had him glued in place and wearing a stupid, unexplainable grin in the presence of 200 strangers wondering what the hell had short-circuited in his brain. And the craziest part? All he could say was her name in response. No context, no explanation, not even a hint to give a black and white picture neccessary color. Only the two proper nouns that made her identifiable on paper.

Asia Scott was going to be the death of him.

--------

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[noyasmashing]

Can I have more Yan Tamaki hcs? 🫠

Me and my husband were sticking together

• warnings: sub!yan! Tamaki x gn!reader, scent kink, soft yandere behavior, slight stalking, etc.

• authors note: HAII MILLY o(^ . ^)o I’m sorry for being so inactive!! Ive been traveling a lot more than I thought I would and I haven’t had much time to write :(( anyways yes yes here ya go!

Alright I’m just gunna say it. He has a scent kink. Especially the scent of your worn, sweat-drenched workout shorts, he can't help but be drawn to it. Painting an image of you sweaty, tired and yet oh so pretty in his mind. He's become so obsessed with the aroma that he's started to steal your clothes, to the point that you’ve begun to notice something is off.

Despite his shame and guilt over his actions, he's unable to resist the allure of your smell, which has become an intoxicating trigger for him. As a hero, he knows he should be above such base desires, but how can he help himself when he’s never experienced such intense emotions before? It’s not his fault your so attractive!!

Tamaki's arousal is amplified by the prospect of being caught in the act, whether it's pleasuring himself while smelling your clothes or being caught red-handed while stealing them. Despite his deep-seated shame and embarrassment over these desires, he's unable to suppress them, and they often find their way into his dreams.

In fact, the fantasy of being punished for his actions has become a recurring theme in his sleep. He loves the idea of being helpless under your control, with vibrators placed anywhere on him you pleased. His cock, prostate, nipples, he doesn’t care as long as your happy.

His deepest desire is to relinquish control and surrender to your will, allowing him to abandon all responsibility and simply obey without hesitation.

Despite being so pathetic, he has a strong desire to impress you. Being shy, he's not one for grand gestures, but he makes an effort to showcase his small accomplishments in the hopes you'll take notice. If you show more interest in Mirio than him, he'll become sulky and withdrawn. When you're near Mirio, he'll feel anxious and insecure. However, his demeanor changes instantly if you direct even a simple question or comment towards him - it's as if a weight lifts off his shoulders, and he's revitalized by your attention.

Tamaki has a tendency to become dramatically upset in your presence, often feigning hurt or distress in the hopes of gaining sympathy and affection from you. Solely to get a reaction from you, one that he can store away to fuel his late-night fantasies.

Despite his ardent desire to catch your attention, he finds himself tongue-tied and unable to articulate his feelings. When he tries to speak to you, his lower lip begins to tremble and his ears turn a bright red with embarrassment. His words get jumbled and tangled on his tongue, rendering him speechless. As a result, he usually resorts to simply nodding his head or muttering a few faint words.

Tamaki's naturally introverted nature often leads him to adopt a listening role, and he finds himself eavesdropping on your conversations out of a misplaced sense of duty. He rationalizes this behavior as a desire to "protect" and "keep you safe," but it's clear that his true motivation is to uncover more about you.

But that's not all - Tamaki is quite the photographer. He likely has an entire album dedicated to pictures of you on his phone, filled with videos and audio recordings of your laughter, conversations with him, and hell even just you talking to a friend. The poor boy would not be able to contain himself if you made a suggestive joke in his presence. Scurrying off to the nearest bathroom with a raging boner. That’s how bad his fascination with your voice is, and he can't help but replay it in his head, imagining all the intimate things you might say to him. He can get rather sloppy with trying to capture you, oblivious as ever. Let’s just hope you don’t catch him recording you, even with his clumsiness. Tamaki's enthusiasm can sometimes get the better of him, causing him to be reckless in his pursuit of capturing your perfection. Let’s just hope he doesn’t get caught by you, even with his clumsiness.

[hynzsn]

★ MARKED ★

☆ choi minho x male reader 18+ MDNI

-> alpha!minho x omega!reader

꩜ .ᐟ smut

contents: omegaverse, dominant!minho x submissive!reader, possesive!minho, scenting, biting, kissing, tongue kissing, swearing, cock touching, growling, neck nuzzling

wc: 0.8k

summary: minho has to leave for work, but he’s stopped when he feels the sudden urge to mark you, his husband.

♡︎♡︎♡︎ likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated ♡︎♡︎♡︎

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

"hey, baby. I gotta run," minho murmured, taking his briefcase and bending in to give you a quick but heartfelt kiss on the cheek.

“meeting with a new client at 9am. can’t be late.”

you, still sipping your morning tea, glanced up at minho, your eyes still groggy.

“mm-hmm, okay. have a good day, love.”

minho turned to leave, but something about the way, your hair looked messy and your eyes were still puffy from sleep caught his attention. an intense yearning and possessiveness suddenly overcame him.

he put down his briefcase and turned to fix his gaze on your neck.

“hold on, baby,” minho said, his voice low and husky.

“i need a minute.”

you raised an eyebrow, but minho was already closing in.

minho gently grasped your chin, tilting your head to the side and burying his face into the crook of your neck.

your eyes fluttered closed as minho took a deep breath, his alpha senses were on high alert.

“fuck… you smell so good, baby,” minho whispered, his breath sending shivers down your spine.

your hands instinctively went to minho’s hips, pulling him closer.

“you’re gonna be late,” you whispered back, your voice laced with arousment.

“i don’t care,” minho growled, nuzzling deeper into your neck.

he inhaled deeply, taking in the sweet scent of sleep, tea, and honey.

his alpha instincts went into overdrive, and he could feel his cock stirring in his slacks.

you let out a soft moan as minho’s tongue traced the curve of your neck.

“minho… you’re being so extra…”

“i’m just showing my baby some love,” minho replied, his voice muffled against your skin.

he sucked gently on the sensitive skin, making your eyes roll back.

“minho… stop… you’re going to make me-”

your words trailed off as minho’s fingers slipped under the waistband of your pajama bottoms.

“stop?” he repeated, his voice nothing but a soft purr.

“i’m not stopping, baby,” minho whispered.

minho’s desire for you was all-consuming, and he knew exactly what he wanted to do with his beloved mate.

“just one bite, baby, come on.”

“i need to mark you again. make sure you’re carrying my scent all day. make sure everyone knows you’re taken.”

minho’s hands dove deeper, his fingers brushing against your hardened cock.

“see, you’re so responsive. baby. i’ll be quick. i promise.”

the air in the kitchen was quickly filling with the combined aroma of your bond.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

with a growl of possessiveness, minho backed you against the kitchen’s island, his gaze never leaving yours.

your submissive nature had caused you to melt under minho’s touch, your body relaxing in surrender. you tilted your head to the side, completely baring you neck for minho.

it was an invitation, a silent plea for minho to carry on.

minho growled in approval, leaning back in and letting his fangs graze the sensitive skin of your neck.

“mine.”

minho smiled, his fangs elongating as his eyes glowed with a primal need.

he bit down on your neck, his fangs breaking the skin as he injected his venom into your bloodstream.

you cried out, your body arching off the kitchen island, as you felt minho’s burning mark into your skin.

minho inhaled deeply. your scent was changing, increasing, and becoming even sweeter. he was reveling in the knowledge that he was the cause.

with another growl of satisfaction, he pulled back, knowing that his marking was complete.

you whimpered at the loss of contact, your neck throbbing where minho had bitten you.

minho’s eyes softened as he leaned in for a gentle kiss.

you melted into the kiss, your arms wrapping around minho’s neck as you deepened the kiss.

minho slipped his tongue inside your mouth, letting your tongues dance together.

he had taken his hands out of your pajamas, and they were now roaming around your body.

the kiss went on until minho pulled back.

you didn't have it in you to break the kiss; in fact, if it went on for hours, you wouldn't have complained.

“fuck, i gotta go,” minho said, adjusting his suit jacket that had become slightly disheveled during your little marking session.

“but tonight, we’re finishing this, baby. i promise.”

you smiled, still a bit dazed as you tried to gain your composure, finally coming off the kitchen’s island.

“you better… you know, this counts as edging.”

minho grabbed his briefcase, but not before giving you another quick peck on the lips.

“have i ever let you down before, baby?”

he smirked, finally heading towards the door, leaving you with his scent and his mark.

"i love you, baby,” he called out.

"love you too.”

[w1w2]

A Taste of Love

Jennie x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ca. 4k

Synopsis: Yn brings homemade food in Jennie's studio.

Requested by Anon

English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

The golden afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows of Y/N’s cozy apartment, casting a warm glow over the kitchen. The gentle clinking of utensils and the soft hum of an old favorite playlist filled the air as Y/N meticulously prepared a special meal. Today wasn’t just any ordinary day—it was a day she had set aside to surprise Jennie, her lover, with a home-cooked meal after weeks of intense work on her solo album.

Y/N stirred the pot of soup gently, inhaling the comforting aroma that filled the space. The rich scent of kimchi stew—spicy, tangy, and deeply savory—wrapped around her like a warm embrace. The broth bubbled gently, small ripples forming on the surface as steam curled upward, filling the air with a homey essence. She reached for a wooden spoon, giving the stew a careful taste. The balance was just right, the spice level perfect—not too overpowering, but strong enough to bring a satisfying heat to Jennie’s palate.

Turning to the cutting board, Y/N’s hands moved with practiced ease as she sliced fresh fruits into delicate pieces. The blade slid smoothly through ripe strawberries, their sweetness releasing a subtle fragrance into the air. Golden kiwi, its vibrant hue glistening under the light, joined the neat arrangement. Crisp apple slices, perfectly fanned out, completed the edible mosaic. She reached for a small container, carefully layering each fruit with precision, ensuring a visually appealing presentation. Jennie always appreciated the little details—Y/N knew that well.

Next, she moved on to plating the side dishes. The tteokbokki sat in a deep bowl, the rice cakes bathed in a thick, fiery-red sauce that clung to their smooth surface. A sprinkle of sesame seeds and finely chopped green onions added the finishing touch, making the dish look as appetizing as it smelled. A separate container held fluffy white rice, its warmth radiating through the container as Y/N carefully packed it. Beside it, a small dish of homemade kimchi sat, its deep red color hinting at the bold, tangy flavors within.

As she wiped her hands on a dish towel, Y/N paused to admire her work, a small, satisfied smile tugging at her lips. The sight of the neatly packed meal filled her with a quiet sense of joy. It wasn’t just food; it was a piece of home, a reminder for Jennie to slow down and take a moment for herself amidst the chaos of her work. Y/N knew how much her girlfriend loved her cooking, but more than that, she knew that this meal was an expression of love in its purest form—one Jennie would understand without words.

Her thoughts drifted to Jennie, as they often did. Y/N could still picture the soft crease in Jennie’s brow when she talked about her album. This solo project was everything to her, a culmination of her talent, effort, and dreams. Late-night texts filled with song ideas, the endless hours she spent in the studio, and her drive to create something truly special—it was all evidence of Jennie’s passion and dedication. But it came at a cost.

Y/N frowned slightly, recalling how tired Jennie had sounded the last time they talked. Her voice, usually so bright and lively, had carried an edge of exhaustion. She’d joked about surviving on caffeine and protein bars, brushing off Y/N’s concerns with a laugh. But Y/N knew better. Jennie might be fiercely independent, but she had a habit of neglecting herself when she was deep in her work.

That was why Y/N was here now, standing in her kitchen, determined to remind Jennie that she didn’t have to carry everything alone. Y/N’s gaze fell on the small note she’d written earlier, now resting atop one of the boxes. The words, scrawled in her neat handwriting, were simple but heartfelt:

“To my Jendeuk, You’re doing amazing, and I’m so proud of you. Please remember to take care of yourself, too. Love you always. – Y/N”

The corners of Y/N’s lips curved upward as she slipped the note into the bag. It was a small gesture, but one she hoped would make Jennie smile, maybe even give her the strength to push through another long night in the studio.

Y/N carefully adjusted the lid of the boxes one last time, ensuring it was sealed tightly. She wrapped the containers in a soft kitchen towel, tucking them securely into the tote bag. The bag itself was simple but cute, adorned with small heart patterns, a detail that Y/N hoped would make Jennie smile.

Satisfied with her preparations, Y/N slipped into her favorite sneakers and reached for her coat. The cool, crisp air outside hit her as she stepped onto the street, and she drew her jacket tighter around herself. It was a quiet evening, the kind where the city seemed to breathe a little slower. The faint hum of distant traffic mixed with the rustling of leaves, creating a peaceful atmosphere that mirrored Y/N’s calm but focused mood.

She made her way to her car, pausing for a moment to glance at the tote bag in her hand. Y/N placed the bag gently on the passenger seat and started the car, the engine humming softly to life.

As she drove, Y/N allowed herself to relax, the familiar route to the studio giving her time to think. A soft playlist played in the background, and she smiled as a song Jennie loved came on. It was one of those tracks that Jennie always hummed absentmindedly while doing mundane things, like tying her hair or scrolling through her phone. Y/N found herself humming along, the melody stirring a warmth inside her.

Her thoughts wandered to the beginning of their relationship. Jennie had always been so radiant, so captivating, that Y/N often wondered how she managed to catch her attention in the first place. She recalled their first date, a simple coffee shop outing where Jennie had ordered an iced latte, even though it was the middle of winter. "I like the contrast," Jennie had explained with a sly grin, and Y/N had laughed, completely charmed.

Those early days felt both vivid and distant now, like a golden blur of laughter and stolen glances. Over time, they’d grown closer, learning to navigate each other’s worlds. Y/N had learned to find joy in Jennie’s quirks: her obsession with her pets, the way she’d suddenly burst into song while cooking, and her habit of curling up like a cat whenever they lounged on the couch.

More recent memories bubbled to the surface. Y/N thought of the mornings when Jennie would groggily pull her back into bed, mumbling, “Five more minutes,” as she clung to her like a sleepy koala. Or the evenings when Jennie would surprise her with takeout, claiming she “just happened to pass by” Y/N’s favorite place, even though it was miles out of the way.

But tonight wasn’t about reminiscing, it was about being there for Jennie when she needed it most. Y/N’s smile softened as she turned into a familiar street, the studio building coming into view. Its tall, modern structure loomed against the dusky sky, the warm glow of its windows cutting through the twilight. Jennie was inside, no doubt immersed in her work, her focus so intense that she’d likely forgotten to eat again.

Y/N parked the car and turned off the engine, letting the quiet settle around her. For a moment, she sat there, looking at the bag in the passenger seat. Her fingers brushed over the strap as a wave of fondness surged in her chest.

“Here we go,” she murmured to herself, grabbing the bag and stepping out into the cool evening.

The walk to the entrance was short, but every step carried a mix of anticipation and excitement. Y/N’s mind raced with images of Jennie’s reaction, how her tired eyes would light up, how she might laugh and call her “too sweet” before pulling her into a hug. It wasn’t much, but Y/N hoped it would remind Jennie that she wasn’t alone in this journey.

Reaching the doors, Y/N took a deep breath, clutching the tote bag a little tighter. With a determined smile, she pushed them open, ready to bring a moment of love and warmth into Jennie’s busy night.

The faint buzz of music filled the sleek lobby as Y/N entered the studio building, her tote bag securely slung over one shoulder. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, mingling with the faint metallic tang of studio equipment. A few staff members milled about, some reviewing clipboards while others chatted casually. The warm, familiar atmosphere put Y/N at ease.

As she approached the front desk, Minji, the receptionist, immediately lit up. “Y/N! Long time no see!”

Y/N grinned and leaned on the counter playfully. “Hey, Minji. How’ve you been?”

“Busy as usual, but not as busy as Jennie,” Minji replied with a chuckle. “You here to check on her? She’s been practically living here.”

“That’s exactly why I’m here,” Y/N said, holding up the tote bag. “She’s overdue for some real food. Don’t tell me she’s been surviving on just coffee again?”

Minji sighed, shaking her head with mock exasperation. “You know her too well. She’s in Studio 3, probably hasn’t budged from her seat in hours.”

“Thanks, Minji,” Y/N said, giving her a small wave as she made her way toward the hallway.

As Y/N walked through the building, a few staff members greeted her with warm smiles. She was a familiar face here, and Jennie’s colleagues had grown used to seeing her drop by.

“Y/N! What’s in the bag this time?” one producer called out, his tone teasing.

“Tteokbokki, stew, and a side of love,” Y/N shot back with a laugh, making the man chuckle.

“You’re spoiling her, you know,” another staffer added with a grin.

“That’s the plan,” Y/N quipped, her pace quickening as she approached the quieter section of the hallway.

The noise faded as Y/N reached the doors to Studio 3. Through the small glass window, she could see Jennie sitting at the control board, her slender frame illuminated by the soft glow of the equipment. Jennie was in her zone, headphones covering her ears as she leaned forward to adjust the sliders on the mixing console. Her lips moved slightly as if silently singing along to the track playing in her ears.

Y/N paused for a moment, watching her girlfriend in her element. Jennie’s focus was magnetic, her passion radiating from every movement. But even in the dim light, Y/N could see the faint signs of exhaustion etched into her face, the dark shadows beneath her eyes and the way her shoulders dropped slightly as if carrying an invisible weight.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N pushed the door open quietly, stepping inside with practiced stealth. She set the tote bag down on a small table near the entrance and leaned against the wall, watching Jennie work.

Jennie’s head tilted slightly, her attention fully on the music. Her hand moved to adjust a knob, her brows furrowed in concentration. Y/N couldn’t help but smile at the sight, it was moments like these that reminded her of how much Jennie loved what she did.

Finally, as if sensing the presence behind her, Jennie turned. Her eyes widened in surprise before softening into a radiant smile. She pulled the headphones down, letting them rest around her neck.

“Y/N?” Jennie’s voice was warm but tinged with disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

Y/N stepped forward, shrugging playfully. “Checking on my favorite superstar. Heard she’s been skipping meals again.”

Jennie raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a wry grin. “Who told you that?”

“Oh, I have my sources,” Y/N teased, crossing her arms. “And I’ve got proof too. You’re looking a little too thin, Jendeuk.”

Jennie rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the small laugh that escaped her. “I’m fine, really.”

Y/N shook her head, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from Jennie’s face. “You’re amazing, but you’re not invincible. That’s why I brought this.”

Jennie’s eyes followed Y/N’s gesture toward the tote bag, her curiosity piqued. She stood and walked over, peeking inside before letting out a soft gasp.

“Tteokbokki? Stew?” Jennie’s voice rose slightly with excitement. She turned to Y/N, her tired expression brightening. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I did,” Y/N said, smiling. “Someone’s got to make sure you don’t starve while you’re making history.”

Jennie chuckled, stepping closer to wrap her arms around Y/N’s waist. The hug was warm and grounding, and Y/N felt Jennie’s head rest lightly against her shoulder.

“You’re too good to me,” Jennie murmured, her voice muffled.

Y/N kissed the top of Jennie’s head. “I just love you baby. That’s all.”

Jennie pulled back slightly, her gaze tender as she looked up at Y/N. “You’re going to make me cry,” she said with a playful pout.

“Well, before you do that, why don’t you eat?” Y/N teased, poking Jennie’s cheek lightly.

Jennie laughed, her tiredness momentarily forgotten as she grabbed Y/N’s hand and led her to the table. “Okay, let’s see what you made. I’m starving!”

Y/N sat by a small table in the corner of the studio, away from the clutter of Jennie’s workstation. The soft glow of the equipment lights cast a cozy ambiance in the otherwise quiet room. Jennie leaned against the console, watching with unrestrained curiosity as Y/N carefully unpacked the tote bag.

One by one, Y/N placed the dishes on the table. First, the tteokbokki, its fiery red sauce still steaming as Y/N removed the lid. The glossy rice cakes gleamed under the soft lighting, sprinkled with sesame seeds and tiny green scallions. Then came the rice, perfectly fluffy and fragrant, followed by a container of soybean paste stew, its aroma earthy and comforting. A small side dish of homemade kimchi completed the savory spread. Finally, Y/N retrieved a box of neatly arranged fruits. Jennie’s jaw dropped slightly as she took in the sight of the feast before her. “Are you kidding me?” she exclaimed, stepping closer. Her eyes sparkled with excitement. “Y/N, this looks amazing.”

Y/N grinned, clearly pleased by Jennie’s reaction. “Only the best for my Jendeuk,” she replied, pulling out a pair of chopsticks and handing them over.

Jennie accepted them with a playful pout. “You’re setting the bar way too high. How am I supposed to go back to cup noodles after this?”

“You won’t have to,” Y/N quipped, sitting down across from her. “Not if I keep showing up with meals like this.”

Jennie laughed, a sound that made the room feel warmer. “You’re going to spoil me,” she said, though her teasing tone couldn’t hide the gratitude in her voice.

“Good,” Y/N shot back with a wink. “Now eat before it gets cold.”

Jennie didn’t need to be told twice. She picked up a piece of tteokbokki, the sauce clinging to the soft rice cake as she took a bite. Her eyes fluttered closed as she chewed, a soft hum of appreciation escaping her lips. “This is so good,” she murmured, savoring the flavor.

Y/N rested her chin in her hand, watching Jennie with a fond smile. “I knew you’d like it. You’ve been talking about craving tteokbokki for weeks.”

Jennie opened her eyes, a mock-serious expression on her face. “That’s because you make it better than anyone else,” she declared, pointing her chopsticks at Y/N for emphasis.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Y/N replied, laughing as Jennie reached for the stew next.

As they ate, Jennie’s initial excitement gave way to a quieter sense of contentment. Her shoulders, which had been tense and hunched from hours of work, gradually relaxed. She alternated between bites of rice, tteokbokki, and the rich, savory stew, her hunger evident but her pace unhurried.

“You really didn’t have to do all this,” Jennie said softly after a while, glancing at Y/N with a mixture of gratitude and guilt.

“I did,” Y/N replied, her tone gentle but firm. “You’ve been working so hard, Jendeuk. I just wanted to make sure you were taking care of yourself, even if you won’t do it on your own.”

Jennie’s expression softened, and for a moment, she seemed lost for words. She set her chopsticks down and reached across the table to take Y/N’s hand. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

Y/N smiled, squeezing Jennie’s hand lightly. “And you’re even more amazing. I’m just here to remind you of that.”

Jennie let out a soft laugh, her gaze dropping briefly as she composed herself. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she admitted quietly.

“Well, for starters, you’d probably be eating instant ramen right now,” Y/N teased, lightening the mood.

Jennie laughed again, the sound bright and genuine. “True. But you know what? I think you’re more addictive than any tteokbokki.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, though her cheeks flushed at the compliment. “If this is your way of convincing me to make this a weekly thing, it’s working.”

Jennie grinned and picked up a piece of strawberry from the fruit box. Holding it up, she leaned forward slightly. “Open up,” she said, her tone playful.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Are we really doing this?”

Jennie tilted her head, feigning innocence. “What? I just want to share.”

Suppressing a laugh, Y/N leaned forward and let Jennie feed her the strawberry. The sweetness of the fruit was matched by the teasing smile on Jennie’s face. “You’re ridiculous,” Y/N muttered as she chewed.

“And you love it,” Jennie shot back.

The lighthearted exchange continued as they worked their way through the meal. Jennie fed Y/N more fruit, laughing every time Y/N playfully protested, and Y/N retaliated by sneaking extra pieces of kimchi onto Jennie’s plate. The room seemed to fill with their shared warmth, the earlier tension of Jennie’s workday melting away completely.

Eventually, they slowed down, both full and content. Jennie leaned back in her chair with a satisfied sigh. “I don’t think I’ve been this full in weeks,” she admitted, her voice drowsy with comfort.

“That’s what happens when you don’t eat properly,” Y/N teased, starting to pack up the empty containers.

Jennie watched her with a soft smile, her earlier playfulness replaced by something gentler. “Thank you, Y/N. For everything. Not just the food, but… for being here. For caring.”

Y/N paused, looking up at her. “Always,” she said simply, her voice filled with sincerity. “That’s never going to change.”

Jennie’s eyes glistened slightly as she reached for Y/N’s hand again. “You’re really the best thing in my life, you know that?”

Y/N chuckled, leaning over to press a soft kiss to Jennie’s forehead. “And don’t you forget it.”

Jennie laughed, her cheeks pink as she leaned into the touch. For the first time in days, she felt truly rested, her heart lighter than it had been in a while.

Jennie sat back in her chair, a soft sigh escaping her lips. Her cheeks were still faintly pink from laughing, and her hands rested on her lap as if she were trying to savor the comfort that had settled between them. “I don’t even know how to thank you, Y/N,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost shy.

Y/N, who was tidying up the remnants of their meal, glanced at Jennie with a playful smile. “You could start by eating like this more often. I can’t have my superstar girlfriend surviving on caffeine and willpower alone.”

Jennie laughed softly, shaking her head. “I don’t deserve you.” Her gaze softened, and she added, “But I’m so glad I have you.”

Y/N studied her for a moment, noticing the way Jennie’s posture had shifted, shoulders slightly hunched, gaze lowered. She recognized that look. It was the one Jennie wore when she was trying to carry too much on her own.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Y/N asked gently.

Jennie exhaled slowly, her fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on the table. “I just…” She paused, pressing her lips together before looking up at Y/N. “I’m scared.”

Y/N’s heart clenched. She reached across the table, resting her hand over Jennie’s. “Scared of what?”

Jennie swallowed, her eyes searching Y/N’s as if trying to find the right words. “Of disappointing everyone,” she admitted in a quiet voice. “My fans, my team… you.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, and she squeezed Jennie’s hand. “Jennie, love… you could never disappoint me.”

Jennie let out a small, humorless laugh. “You say that now, but what if this album isn’t good enough? What if people hate it? What if—”

Y/N cut her off by bringing her hand up to Jennie’s cheek, cupping it tenderly. “Hey. Stop that,” she whispered. “You’re incredible, Jennie. You always have been.”

Jennie blinked, and Y/N could see the glimmer of doubt in her eyes.

“You work so hard,” Y/N continued, brushing her thumb gently over Jennie’s cheek. “You put your heart and soul into everything you do. That’s why people love you—not just because of your talent, but because of the passion you pour into your music.”

Jennie bit her lip, looking away for a moment. “But what if it’s not enough?”

Y/N tilted her head, waiting until Jennie met her gaze again. “Then I’ll be right here to remind you that it is. That you are.”

Jennie let out a shaky breath, her fingers tightening around Y/N’s. “How do you always know exactly what to say?”

Y/N smiled softly. “Because I know you, Nini. And because I love you.”

Jennie’s smile grew, small but genuine, and she reached up to brush a stray strand of hair from Y/N’s face. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

“Maybe,” Y/N teased lightly, her tone softening. “But seeing you smile like that? That’s all the thanks I need.”

The moment lingered, a shared stillness that felt heavy with meaning. Finally, Jennie pulled Y/N into a tight hug, her arms wrapped securely around her waist. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” she murmured against Y/N’s shoulder.

“I know darling,” Y/N replied, her voice laced with gentle humor as she hugged Jennie back just as tightly.

After a while, Jennie pulled away, her energy visibly restored. “I feel like I can take on the world right now,” she said, her eyes sparkling with determination.

“Good,” Y/N said, standing up and stretching. “But maybe start with one track at a time, yeah? I’ll save the ‘taking on the world’ part for later.”

Jennie laughed, shaking her head. “Deal. But only if you promise to keep bringing me those meals.”

“Done,” Y/N said, flashing her a grin as she grabbed the tote bag. “But remember, studio visits come with conditions now. No skipped meals, and no falling asleep in the control room.”

Jennie rolled her eyes, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement. “I’ll try my best.”

“No, you’ll do it,” Y/N corrected, wagging a playful finger. “Otherwise, I’ll show up with a megaphone and drag you out of here myself.”

Jennie burst out laughing, the sound rich and unrestrained. “I don’t doubt that for a second,” she said, still smiling.

As Y/N walked toward the door, Jennie followed, lingering in the doorway as if reluctant to let her leave. “Thank you again, Y/N,” she said, her voice soft but steady. “For being here. For knowing exactly what I need even when I don’t.”

Y/N turned, her expression tender. “That’s what I’m here for, Jendeuk. To remind you that you’re not alone in any of this.”

Jennie’s lips parted as if to respond, but instead, she stepped forward, cupping Y/N’s face with both hands and pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. When she pulled back, her smile was radiant, her eyes filled with gratitude and love.

“I’ll text you when I’m done,” Jennie said finally, her tone lighter but still warm.

“You’d better,” Y/N replied with mock sternness. “And don’t even think about pulling an all-nighter.”

Jennie raised a hand in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. I promise.”

With one last wave, Y/N stepped into the hallway, glancing back over her shoulder as she left. Through the small glass window in the door, she could see Jennie already back at her station, her headphones in place and her hands moving confidently across the console. But there was something different now, an ease in her posture, a brightness in her expression.

As Y/N walked out into the cool evening air, she felt a sense of quiet pride. The city lights twinkled above, and the hum of distant traffic filled the air, but her thoughts were focused on Jennie. She could already imagine the music Jennie would create tonight, music filled with the same passion and brilliance Y/N saw in her every day.

“I’ve got you, Jendeuk,” Y/N whispered to herself, a small smile on her lips. She adjusted the bag and headed home. She was already looking forward to the next time she could surprise Jennie again.

Because loving her? That was the easiest thing in the world.

[bubblebabie]

˚₊ ୨୧ Rafe Cameron x Reader

Steam fills the bathroom, suffocating and hazy, curling around the walls like a thick fog. Every part of the room becomes infused with the sweet aroma of Strawberry Vanilla, its soft scent mingling with the warmth that wraps around your skin. With each slow step into the water, the heat sinks deep into your bones, easing the tension away with every gentle ripple.

It's been weeks since you and Rafe have had any alone time. With you handling responsibilities at home, and Rafe always away from home busy with work, its been hard to find time just for the two of you.

Today, he was determined to change things.

Rafe stood near the bathtub, adjusting the temperature, holding your hand as you stepped in and settled right behind you. Water rises around your legs filling up the tub, instantly relaxing you with its soothing heat, while his presence offers you a sense of comfort and peace.

Rafe's broad, toned shoulders rest against the edge of the tub, a shy grin forming on his lips as he watches you sit yourself in between his legs. The calm, crystalline water swirls around you, the bubbles shimmering in the low light, while the intensity of his gaze sends a shiver through your spine.

“I’ve really been missing this, Rafe,” you whisper, sinking into the water with your back pressed into his chest and your head resting in his neck.

He wraps his arms snugly around your hips, hands traveling downward to your waist. “I’ve really missed this too,” he says lowly, grazing the side of your neck with his lips before pressing a small kiss.

Rafe pulls you closer, his arms tightening around you as if making up for the time you've been apart. You can feel the way his heart beats against the skin of your back, and the weight of his longing in the way he holds you, the space between you now filled with unspoken words.

His breath is warm against your skin, each inhale steady and deep, as if savoring the closeness that has been so scarce. You can feel the tension loosening is his body, a quiet desperation that wants this moment to last forever, to bridge the distance that's stretched between you both for far too long.

Gently, his hands slide up and down your legs, a slow and intimate rhythm that unsaid words of the love he has been able to express in the past few weeks.

You turn to face him, meeting his charming gaze, and in the flicker of his eyes, you can see the same hunger and tenderness that you've felt. It feels as though the burden of the time apart, feels lighter now, as if being together is enough to heal the ache.

Without another word, Rafe leans in to pull you into a feverish kiss, feeling the tenderness of his lips brushing softly against yours; a kiss that indicates love and connection, of all the things that words cant quite explain.

In that moment, the pressure that has kept you apart seems to fade.

In that moment, it's just you and him.

In the hold of his kiss, you feel a promise, a promise that, despite all this time, you are still his, and he is still yours. Rafe lifts a hand to lightly cup your cheek, to ground himself in the moment, afraid that you might vanish if he pulls away.

The kiss depends, slow and deliberate, each movement a reaffirmation of all the things that you've both held on to in silence. When he finally pulls back from you, he rests his forehead against yours, his breath ragged and unstable, his hands trembling slightly as they trace the outline of your face.

"I never want to let go of you again," he says, his voice heavy with emotion, and you realize, with unforseen clarity, that neither of you ever really let go of one another.

[hawthorne-bias]

honey yellow

Steve realizes he's become too much of a distraction for you as you prepare for your test tomorrow. But surely, there’s nothing he can do to fix this, is there?

tags: steve rogers x you; established relationship; tooth-rotting domestic fluff; steve 'the-best-boyfriend-ever' rogers; warning: steve isn't a goody two shoes; he's still the best boyfriend ever, though!

warnings: the reader is implied to be in med school (there's only one line of medical jargon). steve calls you 'doll', 'honey', 'sweetheart'. there's also one slightly suggestive sentence.

word count: 2106.

a/n: pictures used in header are from pinterest. dividers used here are by @inklore. mcu and its characters are not mine. likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!! hope you'll enjoy reading this! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

The soft clatter of a wooden spoon against the pot punctuates the quiet hum of the kitchen. Steve stands by the stove, stirring the bubbling soup, his posture relaxed but focused. The savory aroma of simmering vegetables fills the air, mingling with the faint sound of your pen scratching against paper at the dining room table. Or, well, it should be scratching. Steve’s senses, always sharp, pick up on the distinct absence of that sound far too soon. He feels it—your gaze—warm and unwavering, resting on him like sunlight.

He doesn’t say anything at first, biting back a smile. The attention, as always, makes his heart skip a little faster, but he wants to see how long you keep staring before realizing he’s caught on. Minutes tick by, the quiet growing thick with your distraction. Finally, he can’t resist anymore.

“Is there something on my face, doll?” he asks, his voice low and teasing, tinged with amusement as he glances up from the cutting board where he’s been scooping vegetable peelings to toss into the bin.

You startle visibly, jolting upright with a flustered, “N-no! Nothing!” Your cheeks flush, your eyes wide and guilty as if you’ve been caught sneaking a cookie before dinner. Then, almost as if the words slip out before you can catch them, you add, still stammering, “Except…except your beauty.”

Steve freezes for a moment, caught off guard by your earnestness. A soft blush creeps up his neck and spreads to his cheeks, but it isn’t the awkward compliment itself that gets to him—it’s the way you say it. Sweet and genuine, laced with nervousness that only makes you more endearing. His lips curve into a smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he turns back to the stove.

“Well, thank you,” he says warmly, the teasing note still there but softened by affection. “But,” he adds, a little pointed now, “shouldn’t you be studying for that test tomorrow?”

You nod quickly, almost too quickly, as if eager to cover your embarrassment. “Y-yeah,” you mumble, eyes darting back to your notes with newfound intensity. Steve chuckles under his breath and lets you be, stirring the soup as he listens to you scribble furiously—though he can’t help noticing how it sounds a little more frantic than focused.

It lasts all of three-and-a-half minutes.

He feels your gaze again before he sees it, that same warm weight on his profile. He turns his head just slightly, catching you in the act, and your head immediately snaps back to your notes with a tiny, startled noise that makes him bite back a grin.

“Doll,” he calls out, exasperated but fond, his voice like a soft nudge.

You bury your face further into your notes, determined to stay glued to them this time. Or so it seems. Barely two minutes pass before your eyes stray back to him once again. This time, Steve doesn’t even bother looking up; he simply sighs, the corner of his mouth quirking upward as he stirs the vegetables in the pan.

“Doll,” he repeats, the one word carrying just enough warning to make you look away. But even as he returns to his task, he can feel it—something’s different this time. The weight of your gaze lingers, hesitant and unsure, before your voice breaks the silence.

“Do you…not like me staring at you, Steve?” you ask softly, the vulnerability in your tone making him pause mid-stir. He glances over to find you frowning, lips pulled into a pout that makes his heart clench. “I thought you liked having my eyes on you. That’s what you told me on our third date, wasn’t it?”

Steve sets the spoon down and turns to face you fully, his chest tightening at the sight of your downcast expression. God, you’re adorable. Too adorable. The kind of adorable that makes him want to cross the room and kiss that pout off your lips until it disappears entirely. But he holds himself back—barely.

“Honey,” he says softly, his voice gentler now, “I still love it when your focus is on me. I’ll never get tired of that.” He pauses, his lips twitching upward in a small, affectionate smile. “But not when you’re focusing on me instead of your studies. You’ve got a viva tomorrow, don’t you?”

Your pout deepens, and you cast an annoyed glance at your notes as if they’ve personally offended you. Then, with a dramatic sigh, you mutter, “I think I need a break.”

Steve raises a brow. “You just took a thirty-minute break less than an hour ago.”

Your brows furrow in thought, your lips pressing into a thin line before you finally counter, “It’ll only be two minutes! I can’t keep staring at CNS tumor classifications. If I have to read about astrocytomas, oligodendrogliomas, and ependymomas one more time, I’ll scream.”

Steve blinks, completely lost after the first word. “Astro-what now?” he mutters, shaking his head as you stretch with a groan, your back popping audibly. But before he can say more, your expectant gaze locks onto him, and in a heartbeat, he catches the spark of mischief dancing in your eyes.

“No,” he says firmly, even before you can open your mouth. “We’re not taking a nap.”

“Steve—”

“Nope,” he interrupts, shaking his head as he turns the stove off to avoid burning the soup. “Last time you ‘seduced’ me into taking a nap, we slept for four hours, and you had to pull an all-nighter before your test. Not happening again.”

You pout harder, your lips jutting out in that way you know makes him weak. “Steve…” you whine, dragging his name out with just the right amount of sweetness to chip away at his resolve. But he folds his arms across his chest, standing firm.

When that doesn’t work, you let out a dramatic sigh, muttering about how cruel and heartless he is for denying you a simple cuddle to “recharge your battery.” Steve tries to ignore you, but you suddenly perk up, a sly smile curling your lips.

“Okay, fine,” you say sweetly, “then how about just one kiss? That’ll help recharge me.”

Steve’s jaw tightens, the temptation tugging at him almost too hard. He remembers all the times you’ve pulled this trick before—how it always starts with “just one kiss” and somehow ends with him forgetting what day it is.

“Absolutely not,” he says, shaking his head again. “But you’re not the problem here, sweetheart. I am.”

You sigh heavily, slumping against the chair as you pout at him. Steve can’t help the amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. That pout—he’s seen it countless times before, though he’d never admit how much he secretly likes it. But this time, something in your expression shifts. The pout is still there, but the petulance gives way to frustration.

Your brows furrow, and your tone grows sharper as you mutter, “I need an incentive to study better.” You cross your arms, adding with a huff, “You’re being too hard on me, Steve. You probably don’t even love me anymore!”

That last bit catches him off guard, but he quickly recovers, shaking his head with a soft sigh. “Incentives, huh?” he says, leaning back against the counter. He rubs the back of his neck, letting a brief pause hang in the air before continuing. “I wanted to keep this a secret from you to make it a surprise, but I guess I need to tell you now—I’ve booked us a room at a ski resort for the upcoming weekend. A little trip to celebrate the end of your exams.”

He lets his words sink in for a beat before adding, in a tone deliberately thoughtful, “But seeing how negligent you’ve been about studying lately, I wonder how much we’ll be able to celebrate. You’ll be too miserable to enjoy yourself if your viva doesn’t go well, won’t you?”

Your head snaps up at that, indignation flaring in your eyes. “Hey, I’m not being negligent—”

But Steve cuts you off, sighing dramatically and shaking his head for good measure. “Well, poor me,” he says, his voice tinged with mock melancholy, “who’s made all these plans and gotten so excited…”

Your expression softens slightly, curiosity now replacing the earlier irritation. “It’s going to be just us two?” you ask, your voice quieter now, more serious.

Steve straightens, meeting your gaze and nodding firmly. “Of course.”

But your frown deepens, skepticism creeping into your features. “You said ‘of course’ the other three times too,” you remind him, your tone pointed but not unkind. “And then your friends come. Or my parents. Or my cousin and his spouse—”

Steve winces, letting out a soft chuckle as he raises his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, you’re right. That happened. But I didn’t mean to tell them we’d be going on a trip!” He offers you a sheepish smile, one he hopes is apologetic enough. “It just… slipped out. And they got so excited, I couldn’t tell them they couldn’t come. You know how it is.”

You level him with a steady gaze. “And you’re saying that didn’t happen this time?”

“Absolutely not,” he says quickly, his voice firm and reassuring. “No third parties. Just us.”

You don’t look entirely convinced, but Steve presses on, his excitement bubbling to the surface. “Snowboarding, hot cocoa on the balcony with the mountains in the background, late-night walks under the stars...” He lets his voice drop slightly, his tone growing more meaningful as he adds, “And the resort doesn’t have traditional rooms, you know. They’re cabins. Cozy little cabins.”

He notices your eyes widen, and with that subtle shift in your expression, he steps closer, his voice dropping even lower. “Just us. Bundled up on the rug by the fireplace, keeping each other warm all night long…”

Steve doesn’t miss the way your throat bobs or how your cheeks grow warm. Your gaze flickers away from his, and you clear your throat quietly. “I need to do well on this exam,” you mumble, straightening from your previously slouched posture before refocusing on the notes spread out on the table.

He watches, amused and thoroughly endeared, as you dive back into your notes with renewed determination. Your lips move silently as you read, forming words and phrases Steve doesn’t even attempt to understand. To him, they might as well have been in another language—science is your world, not his—but the way your focus sharpens and your posture straightens, the subtle fire lighting up your expression, fills him with a warmth that makes everything else fade away.

Steve smiles softly as he turns back to the stove, stirring the pot absently. When he glances at you again, utterly immersed in your work, his heart swells. You’re beautiful, not just in the obvious sense but in the quiet, understated way you pour yourself into everything you do.

Leaving the pot to simmer, Steve slips out of the room and into his office. He pulls out his phone, scrolling through his recent calls until he finds the one he wants. Pressing dial, he brings the phone to his ear.

“Hello, ma’am,” he says warmly. “I had called two weeks back to book a cabin for two…”

A while later, Steve is sitting at his desk, scrolling through his work email with a faint frown. Modern technology still trips him up now and then, and dealing with endless chains of messages doesn’t help.

“So, you won’t be there from Saturday till Tuesday, correct?” Natasha’s voice comes through the phone, her tone casual yet efficient. “Should I ask Hill to shift the meetings to later next week?”

“That would be great,” Steve replies, tapping at his phone to delete yet another email. “Thanks, Nat.”

“No problem,” Natasha says lightly, but there’s a curious edge to her voice. “But where will you both be staying? Didn’t you say all the hotels were already booked for this season?”

Steve hums, leaning back in his chair as he thinks of a tactful answer. “Oh, they certainly were,” he admits, his tone thoughtful. He deletes another batch of emails—most from a persistent politician he has no interest in endorsing. Steve has had enough of playing political games in his time and is done with it now. “But—”

He stops mid-sentence as his eyes drift to the open door. You pass by, coffee in hand, and offer him a small wave accompanied by a sleepy but excited smile. Steve feels his lips curve into a soft, loving smile before finishing, “Oh, all the hotels in the region were certainly booked—but for Steve Rogers, not for Captain America.”

if you've enjoyed this fic and would like to be tagged in my future fanfics, please drop an ask into my inbox! thank you so much for reading this!! <333

[minors and ageless blogs will not be tagged in the nsfw fics, by the way! i'm sorry!!]

[sunni-stuff]

No longer a fan.

—★! Tags: NSFW, MDNI, Jaw hurting blowjob, creampie, not proofread + made late at night.

★- This is the end!

The sight of his cock in front of you made your eyes grow wide, your tongue peaking out between your lips as Simon runs a hand through your hair. “Think I like that look on your face doll,” he breathes, fisting his length in his opposite hand. You can’t bring yourself to look away as he gives it a few strokes, pre-cum beading at the tip. You’re lost for words, hands reaching up to rest on his muscular thighs. You see his cock twitch in reaction, leaning forward to take him into your mouth before his fingers stop you in your tracks.

His laugh is cruel in your ears. “Eager little thing aren’t you?” He waves his cock in front of your face, barely brushing it against your lips as he holds you steady. He’s teasing you, enjoying the way your mouth opens for him, practically begging for him to fuck it. Even when you squirm in place and your thighs press together he refuses to indulge in the temptation that is your sinful mouth, wanting to see just how desperate you can get for him before he takes what he wants from you.

“Hungry for it, ain’t you? So innocent-looking but the whole time you’re just a cock-hungry whore.” You whine again, pressing your nails into the meat of his thighs. The sting of it makes his eyes roll. “Come on, use your words,” he gasps, almost feeding you his thick cock—so close, and yet so far. “Use your words darling, tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

He's a real bastard, the way he makes you beg for him. But you can't resist, even as your mouth hesitates to open. Your shame is long gone, especially since he already had his fingers inside you. "Please, Simon," you plead, your cheek pressing against his thigh as you look up at him with those coy eyes of yours. You want his cock now, there's no denying it.

Simon hums in approval as his hand gently guides your head. His cock stands tall in front of you, emitting a powerful musky scent that makes your senses reel. The aroma awakens a deep desire within you for more, more of him and what he can offer. You eagerly take his cock into your mouth, your lips latching onto the head and your tongue eagerly exploring every inch. He tastes so good, a delicious mixture of saltiness and sweat that ignites your taste buds and fills your throat as you try to take more of him, ignoring the slight burn at the back of your throat.

“Yes, that’s it, you’re a natural,” he grunts, being careful enough not to push your head too far. “Just needed someone to stuff that pretty mouth, is that it?” You’re already a sloppy mess, spit running down your chin, eyes watering. Simon's intense gaze pierces through you, filled with twisted desire as he watches you go down on him. You seem so small trapped between his legs, sucking him off with such vigor that he worries your jaw might lock up. He tightens his grip on your hair, pulling you away for a moment to help catch your breath but all he hears is a whimper from your lips. "Don't worry, doll. I'm not going anywhere."

You gaze up at him with a dazed expression, your eyes filled with desire as his thumb gently traces your bottom lip, catching the trail of saliva that dripped down your chin. Just his touch alone ignites your entire body like a Christmas tree. This man is dangerous; he may just be the death of you. It's a fact now, one you can't deny. "Why did you stop me?" Your voice comes out slightly hoarse from your activities below.

“You're too eager, love. Don't worry, I plan on being here all night.” He grins widely, enjoying your stunned reaction. Before you can defend yourself, he pushes himself back into your mouth, silencing any protests. You comply, closing your eyes and following his lead, savoring every moment with the man above you. Your head moves slowly, accommodating for his size as it stretches your throat beyond its limits. The sounds of his moans only urge you on further; you want to hear more. More of his gasps and groans that leave his chapped lips. Lost in the moment, you suddenly realize that his entire length is now down your throat. Your face buried in his pubic hair, and the manly smell of him has you dripping onto the floor beneath you. Simon was completely captivated. Although he had been with many people before, men and women, none of them could compare to the woman currently on her knees in front of him. His moans escaped him in a primal, guttural cry that only grew louder with each suckle of your lips. Your mouth felt like heaven to him, causing his eyes to roll back in pleasure. He couldn't help but grip your head tightly as he began to thrust into your mouth, the sound of your gags only fueling his desire further. "Yes… Come on, sweetheart. I'm almost there," he groaned out, feeling his legs tremble.

The force of his thrusts and the taste of his precum are overwhelming. Your mind goes numb as he takes full control, completely dominating your tiny mouth. Your jaw aches and tears well up in the corners of your eyes as his cock hits the back of your throat again. Suddenly, without warning, his release is imminent. "Shit… fucking perfect," Simon's voice is deep with desire but not as thick as the rush of liquid that fills your mouth. His cum has a sweet taste with a hint of salt, almost overpowering at first, but you manage to swallow it all down.

With a smirk, Simon slowly removes his cock from your swollen lips, taking in the sight of your flushed and aroused face. He reaches down and helps you to stand up, his eyes fixed on you. Your mind is still reeling from what just happened as you look at him. "I should go clean up," you murmur, starting to pull away. But he pulls you back in, his lips crashing onto yours. Simon doesn't care if you taste him on your lips or if you find it gross. Teeth clash and tongues collide as the heat builds. By the end, you're breathless and unable to speak. He asks, "Where's your bedroom?"

In a blur, you find yourself back in your bedroom, lying on your back with Simon hovering over you. He carefully inserts two fingers inside you, marveling at how easily you accommodate him. It won't be long before he replaces his fingers with something much larger. It has only been a few minutes since he entered your room, and he wastes no time getting to business. Your soft whimpers turn into loud moans that mix with his low murmurs as he maintains his rhythm, keenly observing your responses and adjusting accordingly. His heart pounds in his chest, and his own arousal throbs against his thigh. "Nice room you have here," he teases, taking a moment to look around at the colorful décor which is clearly your personal touch.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you let out a whiny gasp. "You can't be serious right now," you say, disbelief evident in your tone. But he just smirks at you, clearly not taking your words seriously.

Simon lets out a low chuckle as he leans in and captures your lips in another kiss, effectively silencing you. "Hmm, deadly," he murmurs against your mouth.

Control. Control was the only thing that held him back as he expertly pushed you closer and closer to that second orgasm, that edge, loving the uncontrollable whimpers that slipped out of you lips.

As he caresses a tender area inside of you, your lips part involuntarily and his name escapes in a pure moan. He continues with steady, rhythmic motions, and the squelching sound of his fingers only adds to the erotic atmosphere. The wet slurping sounds fill your ears and drown out any other noise.

Before you could even process what was happening, a sudden tightness consumed your stomach and sent waves of ecstasy coursing through your body. Your core tenses around his fingers as another orgasm crashes over you, leaving your vision hazy and your skin tingling. You took a moment to catch your breath, throwing an arm over your face as the cool sheets of your blanket helped to soothe your heated body.

Simon pulled his sticky fingers out and surveyed the mess he had made. He couldn't help but feel proud of himself as he tentatively licked them clean, savoring the delectable sweetness of you. Slowly undressing himself, he kept his eyes locked on you the entire time, taking in the rise and fall of your chest and the glistening sweat on your skin. His hands shook slightly as he removed his shirt over his head.

The sound of rustling fabric catches your attention, and you look up to see Simon standing there completely naked. He was a work of art, his body strong and defined with the marks of hard work and struggles. Every inch of him was pure muscle, from his chiseled chest down to his toned abdomen. Scars decorated his chest, each one telling a story you couldn't even begin to imagine. His masculinity was on full display, and it was enough to make any woman feel weak in the knees. You were no exception.

With wide eyes and an open mouth, you could only manage a hoarse whisper - "Sweet Jesus." The sound of your voice drew a hearty laugh from him, his deep chuckle filling the air around you.

"I can't guarantee it won't hurt, love," he said with a sly smile, pleased with the sight of his erect manhood looming over you. The power and dominance emanating from him was palpable, and your heart raced with a mix of fear and excitement. His words filled you with a sense of anticipation, unsure of what was to come. But the raw desire in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

A sharp, searing pain surged through your body, causing your back to arch. Your mouth dropped open, a mixture of pleasure and agony escaping in a silent cry. Your eyes flew open, tears welling up at the corners. The sensation of his erection entering you was almost too much to handle. Another intense orgasm washed over you, tightening your muscles around him and drawing out everything he had to offer. You were wetter than ever, coating his shaft with your juices as you came.

Simon let out a low growl as your third orgasm rocked through you, your walls tightening around him. The sight of his member disappearing into your core, the sensation of your body quivering beneath him, the sound of your moans—all of it drove him wild. "Another one?" he asked, amazed by how sensitive you were compared to others.

Simon groaned deeply as he felt your walls constrict, his throbbing member fully engulfed in the wet heat of your pussy. The intensity of it all was almost unbearable, causing him to clench his jaw in an effort to hold back his release. He watched you with wide eyes, a mixture of pain and ecstasy etched on your face as he stretched you to your limits. It was a sight that would be forever ingrained in his memory - your body trembling beneath him as he filled you completely, filling every inch of you with his hard, pulsing cock.

You became too accustomed to his manhood. Far too accustomed. Probably, because he had already stretched you out so much that your body instinctively knew to relax and welcome him. Your soft cries evolve into moans as your head falls back onto the stack of pillows on your bed. Simon is a master at pleasuring your body, knowing precisely when to thrust and when to pull back, and always praising you whenever he hits that sweet spot that makes you cling to his arm for support. He knows every curve and crevice of your form better than you do, and it's both exhilarating and frightening.

He pulls out, his cock glistening with your juices, before slamming back in. The squelching sounds of your wet pussy taking his cock, the sight of you writhing beneath him, the feel of your tight warmth—it was all too much to bear. He wanted to fuck you until you couldn't walk, until you were a whimpering, shaking mess under him until you were begging for him. Simon loved seeing the way your eyes looked up at him, all pliant and already fucked out. You were better than any toy, any woman or man, he’s ever recorded with. Maybe, just maybe, if that pretty little brain of yours was working after this he’d ask to see you again.

Simon could feel another orgasm building within you, your pussy clenching around his cock as he slammed into you. He was on the brink of his own release, his balls tightening as he neared his climax. You're such a good girl, taking me so eagerly. Can you handle a little more?" He whispered, his voice heavy with lust.

As his words reach your ears, your cloudy eyes clear up. The feeling of his cock thrusting deep inside leaves you disoriented but able to hear him clearly. His praise makes you involuntarily grasp around him. You can sense the effort it takes for him to hold back, though he doesn't say anything about it. It takes a moment for you to realize why - there's no condom.

Breathless gasps escape your lips as euphoria pulses through your body. You looked up at him, meeting his confused gaze before speaking again. "I-I'm on the pill," you managed to say, the words mingling with your moans. His brows furrowed in confusion, but you reassured him with a seductive glint in your eye. "It's okay…to cum inside."

With one last powerful thrust, he finds his confirmation and releases himself deep inside of you. As his cock throbs, he continues to fill you with his hot cum. Your body tightens and releases around him, drawing out your own orgasm as you collapse against him. Gazing up at him through hazy eyes, you notice for the first time that he seems completely spent. Simon slows down, trying to catch his breath and regain his composure. Yet, he remains buried deep inside you, the warmth and tightness of your pussy reminding him of what just took place. He then picks up pace again, renewed energy coursing through his body as he continues.

"Simon?" Your body resists, but he persists. There's that tingling sensation again. Without speaking, he leans in and softly kisses your lips, silencing you. He must have noticed how starved you were for touch, as each time he kisses you, you go quiet and still. "Just a little longer, love." he pleads for once. This isn't an order, but a genuine request for more. And how could you deny him, when he clearly needs it?

An entire hour had passed, and the two of you were still going at it with no signs of stopping. Simon instructed you to switch positions, and now you lay on your side, one leg draped over his shoulder as he continued to thrust into you unrelentingly. Every muscle in your body pulsed as he penetrated deeper each time, reaching a place that no other man had ever reached before.

The sound of the old bed frame creaking filled the air as your bodies rhythmically moved up and down. His movements were powerful, and every time he pushed inside you, your leg would automatically lift up to deepen the impact. Your arousal was evident as your slick walls eagerly welcomed him, trembling uncontrollably when his tip hit that delicate spot inside. You couldn't contain your moans any longer; Simon made you feel too good and he knew it. He gave you everything you needed and more, completely abandoning caution in the heat of the moment.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Your moaning abruptly stops when a loud noise startles you, and the knocking on the wall next to you snaps you out of your lustful haze. Your neighbor has finally had enough of hearing you say the same guy's name over and over again.

"Shut up! Some of us have things to do!"

You feel a rush of embarrassment and shock as you feel your face flush, expecting Simon to stop. But he doesn't; in fact, He somehow pushes himself even harder than before

Simon couldn't care less about your neighbor; you were all he needed. You had given him an hour of pure satisfaction, not just underneath him but on top of him as well. Your neighbor could go to hell because Simon was already in heaven with you. You bit down on your pillow, trying to contain any moans that threatened to escape your lips. It was a struggle to stay quiet when Simon moved his hips so sensually against yours. Your vision began to blur as your walls eagerly pulled his manhood back inside, each thrust accompanied by his praises.

"Simon, gotta quiet…" You whispered to him and trying your best to keep quiet. You were completely spent, stretched to the limit by his skilled cock. No other man would ever be able to fill you so fully or even fit after experiencing Simon's prowess.

"Who says?" Simon's voice was deep, teasing, and seductive as he watched you while thrusting and grinding against you. He was impressed that you could still speak coherently while being pleasured by him like never before. He didn't care who heard you; anyone listening would know exactly who he was - the one giving you the best fuck of your life. This only fueled him to adjust his grip on you, lifting you higher against him so he could penetrate deeper and touch every nerve in your body with each thrust.

That's all it took, your mind was completely consumed by him, unable to do anything but moan endlessly from the passionate experience. You exploded around him, covering his cock in a frothy white mess as your mixed juices flowed out of you. Your hips were connected by thick tethers of cum, evidence of just how full and satisfied you were after being thoroughly fucked by Simon.

Simon pulled out slowly, admiring the trails of cum connecting the two of you. He wanted more, but seeing the tired look in your eyes weakened him. Another loud knock on the wall broke through the moment, causing him to roll his eyes.

Looking back down at you, he noticed that you had fallen asleep. It seemed like he may have gone a little too far. Letting out an affectionate sigh, he gently patted your thigh before getting up and moving around your room.

He went into your bathroom to grab a washcloth and wet it before returning to carefully clean you up. The warm cloth stirred you awake and you murmured in response. "Mmm…?" Simon stated simply, "Just cleaning you up, pet." He made sure to leave no trace of the mess you both had made on your body.

What a man he is. You watch his every move until he pulls away, but then reach out to stop him, pulling him into bed with you. "Stay."

Simon raises an eyebrow and for the first time tonight, he's about to protest until you suddenly kiss him, silencing any words he had planned to say. "Well, since you asked so nicely."

Together, you lay next to each other in bed, still tingling from the sex. His arm instinctively wraps around your waist and without saying a word, he pulls you close, letting your head rest against his warm chest as you listen to his heartbeat. Together, you sit in silence for a while until finally, the question that has been on your mind since he you met him slips out. "So, are you GD?"

Simon's eyes widen in shock before he quickly tries to play it cool by trailing his fingers teasingly down your spine. "Why? Are you a fan?

He causes you to shiver as you hum in response, rolling your eyes playfully. This guy, he's full of jokes, isn't he? "I don't know... I think I'm more than a fan at this point."

♡! I tried to make this one really long because It's been literally TWO MONTHS. I'm so sorry. I had planned to come back in April after school died down but I ended up getting nerve damage in my dominant hand and was left unable to type. I hope this makes up for it :c!!

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[cece693]

Hihi, may I request a Hannibal x Reader where the Reader has NPD and doesn't form a connection with anyone till he meets Hannibal? A bit self-indulgent, but I reckon Hannibal would be fascinated by the prospect of being 'special' to a narcissist.

My Mirror

pairing: hannibal lecter x male reader tags: no background info used when writing this, sorry in advance, vain male reader, hannibal indulges him, talk about superiority

You’ve never been one for emotional attachments—an understatement, truly. Where others might feel devotion or longing, you observe a mild, clinical detachment. People, with their petty wants and whining needs, amuse you for a time but rarely hold your attention for long. You’ve grown comfortable in the self-contained world of your own superiority.

In clinical terms, you’ve been labeled with narcissistic personality disorder—NPD. The label doesn’t disturb you. In your eyes, the world is simply out of sync with you; it fails to meet the high standards you’ve set. You don’t consider this a “disorder,” exactly. Yet you recognize that it isolates you. No one has ever managed to breach the lofty gates of your interest…until meeting him.

The first time you hear of Dr. Hannibal Lecter, you’re skeptical. Your colleagues and acquaintances speak of him in hushed, reverent tones: a brilliant psychiatrist, a culinary savant, a polymath of refined tastes. You grow used to overhearing their effusive praise, and it only piques a faint curiosity at best. Everyone extols him so highly—could he possibly live up to the hype?

Yet, from the moment Hannibal Lecter opens the door to his lavish Baltimore townhouse, you sense a shift. The warmth of candlelight glints off polished silver in the foyer. The faint aroma of roasting meat teases your senses. But none of these details hold your attention half as much as the man himself. Dark, composed eyes meet yours—eyes that see you in a way no one else has before. You feel an uncanny ripple of fascination, and it snags you before you can slip away behind your usual polite mask of distance.

Throughout the evening, you watch Hannibal with an intensity you typically reserve only for yourself. He tends to his guests with an elegant flourish, every word precisely chosen, every subtle gesture purposeful. It’s all done with a perfection that borders on artistry.

At dinner, you test him—sliding in a barbed remark about the “vapidness” of certain guests, just to see how he’ll react.

Hannibal raises his glass and murmurs, “You see them as uninteresting, do you?” There’s something in his voice, a mild fascination, that instantly pricks your pride in a pleasurable way.

“Don’t you?”

He offers a small, knowing smile. “Their concerns may be pedestrian,” he allows. “Yet, occasionally, there is merit in observing what they fail to perceive.” His gaze flickers to you, lingering. “And how do you find me?”

It’s a straightforward question, one most people would dodge, but you don’t. “Relevant,” you reply smoothly. “Rarely do I meet someone who isn’t painfully predictable.”

You expect a mild scoff, or perhaps a faint show of offense. Instead, Hannibal’s eyes gleam with a genuine spark of intrigue. “How refreshing,” he says, a gentle timbre in his voice that resonates.

As word of your growing closeness spreads among your acquaintances, it ignites a ripple of scandalized curiosity. After all, you’re you: proud, self-assured, never known to settle on anything or anyone that doesn't meet your standards. Many interpret your relationship to be built on purely superficial aspects—perhaps you're just dazzled by Hannibal's wealth (as if you don't have money of your own) or you seek to climb the social ladder (as if you would desire to spend your priceless time entertaining the mindless sheep for longer than necessary.)

They see your vanity, your precise grooming, your tendency to remark on the trivialities of others’ failures. They judge you for it. But what they can’t see is how Hannibal perceives you differently. He recognizes that your so-called “superficiality” is both shield and sword: you offer praise only where it’s truly earned, and you expect nothing less in return. He praises your refined tastes, marvels at your knowledge of art and culture. Far from dismissing your grandeur, he encourages it. In moments stolen away from prying eyes, Hannibal’s soft voice murmurs the subtlest compliments:

“You wear that suit as though it were designed exclusively for you. Magnificent.”

“Your insights on Baroque architecture are enthralling. Not many people appreciate ornamentation like we do.”

No one has ever spoken to you this way, not without an undercurrent of envy or mockery. Yet Hannibal’s praises feel earnest, almost reverential. His acceptance of your worldview—that you are remarkable—bolsters an unfamiliar warmth within you. You, in turn, find his own superiority mesmerizing. This is what it’s like, you think, to be understood.

If others see only the two of you exchanging indulgent remarks about fine wines, then let them. If they think it’s just a coupling of vanity and pretension, so be it. What truly matters is the inexpressible energy that crackles in the space between you—a reflection of two minds that appreciate the rare delight in one another.