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kisses4kaia · 3 days ago

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nobody does it better by carly simon but it’s the radiohead cover and it’s patrick… cw: DISGUSTING smut with this evil man, no less no more . im shameless.

a/n: so we all know the photo. and what ThePhoto did to me was… this! enjoy. 😌

the room is loud. there’re a million people you could be talking to, looking at. a hundred people you could sit in the corner and people watch, but his eyes are on you. and you cannot look away.

patrick zweig was a reoccurring character in your life. starting off as low-commitment boyfriend freshman year, turning to effervescent fuckbuddy you could never get far enough away from to become detached. you hated him, god, you hated the pull on you he had. the iron grip that steeled you right where you were across the room from him, eyes locked like a guarded palace onto his. good lord.

it truly takes the will of god to keep your feet planted where they are, forcing yourself to divert your eyes from him. but, never fear, he’s already moving towards you.

his towering presence is felt immediately as he stands in front of you, looking down into your eyes as if he can hear your heart pounding regardless of the blaring song around him.

“hey,” he says quietly, tone soft but gravelly, as if there wasn’t a sound barrier around the two of you that might keep you from hearing him. “what do you want, zweig? your voice comes out more pointedly than you intended, but with the way your pulse is thrumming and your hands are shaking, you can hardly blame yourself.

looking at you with that look in his eye, the one that almost mocks you as to say ‘got ya’, he cranes his neck down to whisper in your ear. “what do you want?” and he knows.

patrick turns without another word, and before you can process what you’re doing, your feet are moving with him, as if a collar was wrapped around your neck, choking your senses, and the leash was hanging haphazardly from his hand.

his path leads you into a bathroom, small, no shower, with a buzzing, lagging light. his hands are on your waist as soon as you step through the door, pushing you against it. patrick doesn’t kiss you immediately, unusual for him. “i miss you,” he breathes out, nervously, and it is jarring.

patrick zweig is not nervous, ever. he was self sure and confident and a fucking dickwad who knew it and embraced it as part of his “charm”. “yeah? and how many girls have you said that to, hm? britney posted you on her story yesterday, patrick. last friday, it was ántonia. fuck you,” you spat out, the 3… maybe 4 vodka sours you indulged in half an hour ago making your head pound, or maybe it was his dior sauvage.

he sighs, looking away from you impatiently, but when his eyes lands back on you, his gaze is crazed. “fuck, they don’t matter to me. i don’t know their last names, i don’t know their little siblings, they don’t know my favorite band, and i don’t look them in the eye when i fuck them. shit, baby, it’s you, don’t you realize? always fucking you,”

oscar winning preformance, is what you want to say, but his exasperated exhale after the words come out, paired with the rihanna song dully thrumming behind the door, bass vibrating against the wood, you look between his eyes, down at his lips, and your eyes don’t travel again before you smash your mouth onto his.

never fucking again, you tell yourself as his lips move in desperate, hungry, almost disbelieving tandem with yours. this is the last time.

“do you have a boyfriend?” he breathes out between kisses as he unbuckles your belt and unbuttons your jeans, shimmying them off. “like that’d make you walk out right now,” you kiss him again, biting his lower lip. “fuck. no, fuck no, but if you do, i’m going to make you remember exactly why nobody does it better.”

patrick lifts you effortlessly and places you on the sink, pulling your sticky, lacy panties to the side, smirking that evil damn smirk at the fancy little bow at the top. “did you know i was gonna be here tonight?” he nibbles as your ear, bringing loving bites down your jugular to your shoulder.

“no, but i knew art would be.” your smile is devious as his eyes light up, not with jealousy, but with the same fire he gets when he realizes his opponent on the other side of the net is really playing with him, when they’re really playing fucking tennis.

patrick jerks himself once or twice, languidly, before sliding his cock into you. a hardly contained whine pulls from your voice, and your mouth drops into an ‘o’ at the stretch. he nearly has you in an embrace, the way he’s holding you closely against his chest, and his curls are begging to be pulled. you entwine your finger with the hair at the nape of his neck and tug with every sharp thrust into your leaking pussy.

“more, give me more, patrick, don’t hold back on me, asshole.” he doesn’t even respond, just obediently lifts you up every so slightly off the sink and moves you on and off of his cock, giving him a much wider range of motion. his dick is nearly completely out of you each time his hips snap back, but you’re moaning like a pornstar each time he’s in again.

his ability to hit that spot inside of you with near perfect accuracy every fucking time is expert, a skill that could only be acquired by someone so in tune with your pleasure—and if patrick zweig was nothing else, he was that.

“fuck, gonna, shit! gripping me so fucking tight, leaking all over my shit, baby. she miss me? huh, pretty? you miss me?” he was talking right through you, each word penetrating your deepest desires and fantasies. you hated how he knew you. you hated that you let him. but most of all, you hated how close you were to coming.

he keeps fucking you unforgivingly, whining and moaning like a whore all the while. “you still on that pill?” he asked, voice pitchy and annoying and sexy.

“no, insurance stopped covering it.” you say seriously, and you can’t keep your laughter in when his thrusts slow and he looks at you panicked. “i’m fucking with you, don’t stop,”

“you’re evil, you know that?” he says endearingly, playful as always, and it’s no more than a minute later that he’s coming inside you.

patrick never was a selfish lover, so it came as no surprise that after pulling his softening girth from you, not one, not two, but three of his finger were quickly pumping in and out of you, making him moan sluttishly at the way his own cum coated his fingers. his other hand made busy circling your clit with his thumb, fast and calculatedly.

he knew every button to push because he sewed them onto you, and so it was no surprise that with that special angling of his wrist, you were coming undone on his fingers in minutes.

it’s quiet for the next few minutes, you cleaning yourself up, patrick washing his hands, the both of you redressing in silence.

“so… same time tomorrow?” he smiles at you, pleased with himself and sure your answer will be affirmative.

you walk up to him, smile, kiss him tenderly on his lips, let your heels touch the ground again softly. “go fuck yourself, patrick.” your words are sharp but your tone is sickly sweet, and patrick recovers from his shock quickly, smirking stupidly.

“after that, i most definitely will be.”

#.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ 𝐤𝐚𝐢𝐚 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 !#patrick zweig #patrick zweig smut #challengers #challengers smut #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig challengers #kaia writes patrick #challengers 2024 #challengers x reader #patrick zweig x reader smut #GOD I NEED HIM SO BAD PLEASE #by the way i blame eva for this #for exposing me to this picture and forcing my hand

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heechwe · 10 hours ago

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anything for you | 𝐣𝐰𝐰

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ MY FIC FOR JUPITER'S SECRET CUPID COLLAB

୨୧ pairing: jeon wonwoo x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 3k ୨୧ genre: slight comedy, fluff, smut ୨୧ tags: best friends to lovers au, drunk confession, dirty talk, breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampie, cum eating ୨୧ synopsis: Wonwoo has been your best friend forever. And maybe something more could be in the cards with a mature, sophisticated confession. Or a lot of alcohol.

⟢ AUTHOR'S NOTE: Inspired by LANY's song "anything 4 u"! Big thanks to my betas for this fic Tiya (@gyubakeries), Honey (@heesuncore), and Mitchie (@seokgyuu)! I love you all so much. And this fic is for my Secret Cupid Ally (@lovetaroandtaemin)!! I love you loads and you're an incredible friend. I'm so glad I got you so I could share a small token of appreciation for our friendship. I hope you love this story as much as I did writing it! ♥︎

Valentine’s Day weekend. The one weekend you have to suffer through everything being doused in red, pink, and white decorations. It’s everywhere: across your work office, all around the city you live in, and even plastered around the hole-in-the-wall bar that all of your friends are drinking in now.

It’s not one of your least favorite holidays, per se. But the intensity of it can be incredibly draining. The constant declarations of affection, the emotionally gooey visual representations of one’s desire for another person, it’s too much even for some of your own friends who are coupled up.

The reality of your loneliness pushes your mood down just enough that staring down your third bottle of beer makes you yearn for another, despite your alcohol tolerance being less than stellar. And to make matters worse, it sucks to be surrounded by others’ happiness when you’re so alone in love and in love with someone too enmeshed in your life as a friend, rather than a person of romantic interest.

Wonwoo sits with Vernon and Soonyoung at the high-top bar, nursing tequila shots and Coronas without bothering to look back at the rest of your table of friends. Yes, you were all celebrating Soonyoung’s new promotion and Vernon finally nabbing a girlfriend in time for Valentine’s this year, and they only stalked off a few minutes ago to share a few drinks on their own, but you wish Wonwoo was sitting next to you again.

You always mocked him for telling you to slow down. To drink water to avoid dehydration or to eat something to offset your alcohol intake. With all of his parroted wisdom that drives some of his closest friends crazy, you love him for it. You love him for a lot of reasons, really.

“Maybe you should just tell him, you know?” Seokmin says across from you, looking over at you from the rim of his Whiskey Sunrise. It’s a sickly shade of red, grenadine mixed in with the other ingredients to commemorate the holiday season. You wonder if it tastes like cough syrup, because it sure looks like it.

“You think I haven’t thought of that?” You ask with a slur, licking the remaining beer on your lips. “It’s not that easy to destroy seven years of friendship.”

“Come on. You act like nobody else has noticed when it’s plain as day, babe,” Seungkwan pipes up next to you, elbowing you softly in the ribs with an accompanying waggle of his eyebrows.

“And what is your best course of action, Dum and Dee?” You split your stare between both of your friends, your irritation peaking. “I just go over to that bar and confess everything to him. Then he’ll say he’s felt the same this entire time and we ride off into the sunset together?”

“One, you don’t need to be rude,” Seokmin responds. “Two, you don’t have to make it so dramatic. Get him alone tomorrow, maybe. Talk it out, see where it goes.”

“Exactly,” Seungkwan says. “It doesn’t need to be this big movie scene thing.”

“What movie?” Soonyoung asks, sitting back down next to Seungkwan and in front of his empty bowl of ramen. The other boys follow suit, Vernon alongside Seokmin and Wonwoo next to you once again.

It feels like torture and sanctuary in the same moment, so close but so far from what you wish the two of you could be.

“Nothing, just this documentary we all saw the other night,” you respond. You press your lips to your bottle again, pouting when the last droplets hit your tongue. “I’m gonna get another,” you say to nobody in particular. Wonwoo perks up once he notices you stumbling to get out of your chair.

“Not so fast,” Wonwoo says as you fall back into his arms. “I think I should get you home.”

“No, the night’s still young!” You whine into his jacket, your hair ruffling the skin on his neck. His chest rumbles with laughter, but nothing at the moment is funny to you. You don’t want to leave just yet, and he doesn’t need to treat you like a baby. “We still haven't even gone to karaoke.”

“Another night. Go sleep it off!” Vernon calls from behind you.

“You kids have fun!” Seokmin says with a conspiratory wink. You and Wonwoo walk towards the entrance of the bar, and you want to throw something at Seokmin to make your idiot best friend’s dumb smirk and even more ridiculous idea of confessing your feelings to your mutual friend blip out of existence.

Wonwoo has seen you at your lowest. He consoled you after you ran your car into a parked motorcycle when you were sixteen, your humiliation palpable the whole three hours you both waited for the police to show up. He’s held you in his arms after every failed romantic relationship, telling you it was always them and never you when it ended poorly. There’s nothing the two of you haven’t been there for each other for, no experience too vulnerable to share and overcome together.

But Wonwoo holding your hair in a makeshift ponytail as you throw up may just be the all-time low of your embarrassing moments. He whispers in your ear that you’re okay and rubs your back with a soft hand, and you feel all the worse for it. How could he ever love someone this prone to disaster, this cringeworthy?

“You should go home,” you cry into the toilet bowl. “I’m disgusting.”

Wonwoo says your name in a mocking tone, pretending to be serious but in no way critical of you or the situation. He takes off his plaid button up and throws it in some random corner of your bathroom, free to hold you as close as possible as you continue dry-heaving. “You’re not disgusting.”

“Of course you’d say that, you’re you.”

He laughs again, tucking what hair he can from your face so you can lift your head off of the toilet. “And what’s that?”

You look at him with puffy, half-open eyes. “Perfect.”

He helps you up from the tile floor and moves you to your bedroom on your weak legs. He sheds off your overshirt as you kick off your denim jeans. Your mind rumbles with a whirlpool of thoughts as his brain ruminates on the word you used when comparing himself to you.

“I’m in no way perfect, kid,” he whispers. The nickname he’s used on you forever feels like a backhand, a copious amount of salt in a wound you know will never heal. He’ll always see you at a distance from him, his feelings leagues away from yours.

“Don’t call me that,” you cry into your pillow, resting your cheek deep into the material to muffle the quiet sobs in your throat. He can’t be serious, talking to you so tenderly when you’re falling apart.

“Hey, can you look at me?” You shake your head and settle deeper into the pile of comforters and throw pillows. Wonwoo suddenly feels his gut turn into a dozen knots. He doesn’t know what’s wrong, how to fix it, or what to say to make things better, and it kills him. “Why are you acting like this?”

“Because you’re too perfect to love someone like me. But I love you so much, and it fucking sucks,” you hiccup, the darkness of your bed making you believe he’s not there, this isn’t real, and it’s okay to release all the words in your heart into the dark. “And every time I see those damn red and pink hearts all over the place, I think of you and I want to die.”

The force of your confession almost knocks Wonwoo on his ass. At the very least, he settles onto the desk chair near your bed and hears your whimpers give way to light snores.

He runs his hands through your hair again and tucks the covers up to your chin. He holds himself back from pressing a kiss to your forehead, the one thing he’s always done when you’ve passed out countless times before in his presence, but never recalled the next morning. This time, though, he prays you’ll remember your drunken admission.

“I hope you meant everything you said,” he whispers before retreating to your couch to fall asleep to the sounds of the cityscape below.

You wake up to low jazz playing from your living room TV and the smell of sizzling eggs. Each limb aches from the heavy sleep you fell under last night. You quietly pad out of your room to find Wonwoo cooking what looks to be the perfect mix of breakfast and hangover food. A makeshift Bloody Mary sits on the counter next to him, waiting for you.

Wonwoo turns when he senses you behind him, and he grins. “Hey, you’re awake. I was worried you’d be passed out until the afternoon. I wouldn’t blame you, though.”

You blush a shade deeper, still sporting your tank top and clad in a pair of boy shorts. You forgot you had taken your pants off before slipping into bed the night prior, but it isn’t the first time Wonwoo’s seen you half-clothed. You drink half of the concoction and set it down, your headache throbbing a little less. “How bad was I last night?”

He smirks. “Bad enough to throw up another three times.”

You groan into the back of your hand and hitch yourself up on the counter across from Wonwoo, his focus still on the over-medium eggs in the pan. “I’m sorry you had to take care of me again.”

“I wanted to,” he says without looking up at you. “I always want to be here when you need me.”

“I know, I know, it’s your job to say that,” you joke.

He drops the metal spatula next to him on the stove, and you jump up at the sound. He doesn’t look up, doesn’t say a word for a moment, and you’re unsure if he’s even breathing when you ask him if he’s okay. “So, you don’t remember then?” His question comes out almost like a statement, but the wavered edge of it proves he is concerned with whatever has slipped your mind.

“Woo, you’re freaking me out.”

He turns the stove to a low, simmering heat before facing you. His eyes look sad but expectant, waiting for the inevitable to come to you. “You really have no idea what I’m talking about?”

You tuck your hair behind your ear, and in that instant, you recall that last hour before you fell asleep. Wonwoo helping you into bed. Crying in your bed. And all the words that followed.

The memories bring tears to your eyes and your hands to your face. “Oh my god—”

Wonwoo takes your palms away and holds them to his mouth. “Stop running from me.”

“Don’t make me say it again, Woo, please.” Your bottom lip trembles. You fight every instinct to run from the kitchen and out of the apartment altogether, wanting to accept the continuous pain of hiding your feelings than the truth that this could be the end of the both of you as you know it, for better or worse.

“Fine, you don’t have to.” Wonwoo’s lips curl into that grin you’ve adored for almost a decade. “I’ll say what I need to first, then.”

He takes a deep breath and sets his jaw. “I’ve been in love with you since the minute you threw your ice-cream at that biker who almost clipped me in the foot on the way to school. Remember? I may have loved you long before that, but that’s the moment I realized.

“And I don’t want to lose you. I want to be more than just the guy you call your best friend. I want to be the only friend that matters, the friend that kisses you goodnight and tells you how beautiful you are because there’s no other way to describe you. I love you, too, kid, whether you realized it or not.”

A breathy yelp leaves your mouth before you kiss Wonwoo on the mouth. It’s a hard one, a clash of teeth and a bit of tongue, but you didn’t expect less from such an unexpected and perfect confession. Maybe this was the way you rode off into the sunset together. Sure, there was the smell of burning eggs instead of the sounds of a white stallion gallivanting off to the unforeseeable future, but it’s perfect. It’s yours.

Wonwoo shuts the burner off entirely before he takes you by the hand into your bedroom. When your bed is in full view, he kisses you long and slow. It’s nothing like the first kisses you shared a second ago, but it’s earth-shattering all the same.

You moan into his mouth when he presses a free hand to your breast, teasing the skin above your shirt until your nipple pebbles.

“Is this too fast?” He asks in a gruff voice. “We don’t have to do anything if you’re not comfortable, I just—”

You press a finger to his lips, effectively shutting him up. “If you do not take my clothes off right now and fuck me, I will never speak to you again.”

Wonwoo smirks and kisses you once more, only stopping to pull your tank top over your head and rip your underwear off of your legs. His fingers delve between your folds, and you shudder in his hold but refuse to let him take his hand away.

“You like this,” he whispers, the statement thick with his lust.

“Yes, it feels so good,” you whimper. You gasp when two of his fingers curl inside of you, his thumb still nestled on top of your clit to swirl around with the pad. The amount of pleasure he’s already given you is indescribable, and he hasn’t even truly done much yet.

You whine when he takes his hand away, but it’s to discard his own clothes and sit at the edge of your bed. He beckons for you to sit on top of him, and he doesn’t think twice about swirling himself between your essence and lining the head of his dick with your entrance. His tip is so swollen and covered in pre-cum, there’s no problem sinking it inside of your heat.

You share a mutual curse of pleasure when he bottoms out, his pelvic bone meeting your skin. You stay like that for a moment. You’re so full and unable to move from the size of him filling every empty space inside of you, you think this has to be a dream. Last night has not given way to day yet, and now is just a conjuring of your cruel mind.

You get lost in your thoughts for so long Wonwoo brings his hand to your face and traces his fingers over your cheek, staring at you lovingly. “Where’d you go?”

You smile shyly and kiss his nose. “I just can’t believe this is happening.”

“I guess I’ll just have to remind you it’s real.”

He takes your ass between his hands and spreads you out before thrusting up inside of you, making you gasp hard. He moves long and slow underneath you, almost taking his cock out of your pussy completely before delving back into you.

“I want to give you everything,” he pants. “All that I have—will have—is for you. You know that, right?”

“Yes, fuck,” you whisper, meeting his hips with yours as you try to set your own pace, sinking down onto him with every thrust where your skin meets with loud smacks.

“I love you so much,” he says into your neck before biting down on your soft skin. You moan loudly and press yourself deeper and harder against him. His cock hits you at the perfect angle as you straddle him, and you feel the start of your climax deep in your stomach.

Seven years of missed opportunities. More than too many chances for days and nights like this spent together so intimately gone to the wind. It’s easy to be regretful for all the time that you’ve wasted without each other, but you realize it’s not wasted at all.

Every step, every thread of fate that tied you two together, brought you here. Whatever comes of today is just an extension of what has already existed in your hearts. So what more is there to ask for?

“Fuck, I’m so close,” he growls in your ear. His balls smack against your skin as he continues to slam into you. Tears spring in your eyes as he moves even harder, trying to take you both to your peaks together. “Where can I come, baby?”

“Inside of me. I want all of it, all of you. Please,” you beg. You bounce harder on top of him, circling your clit with your fingers to fall off the precipice with Wonwoo by your side.

“You want to feel all of me, yeah? So full of my cum it’s all you’ll think about?” He smirks and replaces the fingers on your clit with his own. “Maybe I’ll fuck a baby into you with how much cum I give you. Would you like that?”

You see stars behind your eyelids as you listen to the beautiful, dirty words on his lips. You nod vigorously, wanting nothing more than for him to claim you in this way. It’s all you’ve thought about for years, truthfully.

“God, I’m coming,” you say into his neck, thighs quivering as the rest of your body goes slack from the pleasure. Wonwoo grunts into the shell of your ear as he orgasms himself, his seed spilling into you so deep you think there’s no way any remnant of him will slip out.

When he takes himself out of you, he swirls the mixture of both of your releases on his fingers before you take those fingers into your mouth, sucking them dry.

Wonwoo chuckles and kisses you deeply, the taste of the two of you on both of your tongues. “That’s one way to end Valentine’s weekend, don’t you think?”

You giggle and kiss him on both cheeks, too eager to see the rest of your future together. “You could say that.”

@gyubakeries @loserlvrss @okiedokrie-main @brownbunnyb

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kstrucknet @k-films @kvanity-main @lapydiaries @moadiarynet @/sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @deoboyznet @violetanet @whipped-kpop-creators

#kvanity #kstrucknet #keopihausnet #lapydiariesnet #wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo smut #wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo x reader #seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen x reader #seventeen fic #seventeen fics #svt x reader #svt fic #svt fics #[ lexi's works ]#[ lw - seventeen ]#[ lw - events ]

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reveriebae · 2 days ago

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Unveiled temptation

pairing(s) : Song Mingi x reader

word count : 5731

summary : You swore you’d never meet an online friend in person—until Mingi. One secret visit to his performance, one photo sent without a word, and now he’s found you. And tonight, he’s going to ruin you.

genre : smut

warning(s) : dominance, obsession, mild possessiveness, public teasing, and explicit language. Expect manhandling, desperate pacing, and overwhelming pleasure. Let me know if I missed anything!

A/N : this fic is my favorite one this far. I hope you guys like it🥺🫶

Minors do not interact, 21+ only!!

🪐smut under the cut 🪐

You had always been careful. Always drawn lines you refused to cross.

The internet was a playground, a place to connect, but it was never supposed to be real. You had rules—clear, solid ones that kept you safe. No meeting people you knew online. No getting too attached. No blurring the lines between fantasy and reality.

And yet…

Mingi.

It started with a simple follow. Then the occasional like on your posts. Then came the conversations—long, winding ones that stretched across midnight and bled into early mornings. His words were addictive, pulling you in deeper than you should’ve allowed. He was confident, but never pushy. Smooth, but not rehearsed. He made you laugh, made your stomach flutter with the way he spoke so easily, so casually, yet always with just enough bite to make you wonder if there was more behind his words.

And there was.

You knew it when he sent you a video of him playing guitar late one night.

"I play here every Saturday," he had texted once, sending you a picture of a dimly lit stage. "You should come watch me sometime."

Your answer had been immediate. "I don’t meet people from online."

His reply had come just as fast. "One day, you will."

It sent a shiver down your spine, the kind that came not from fear, but from the way your pulse picked up at the thought.

And now, here you were.

Breaking your own rule.

The bar was warm, filled with the hum of conversation and the deep strum of a bass vibrating through the air. Dim lights bathed the wooden floors in a soft glow, casting long shadows against the walls. The scent of alcohol and faint traces of cigarette smoke lingered, mixing with something earthy and familiar—something that smelled like leather and musk.

Your eyes flickered to the stage.

And there he was.

Mingi.

You had seen him in photos, watched his videos, but nothing compared to seeing him in person. He was taller than you had imagined, broader. The loose fit of his black tee did nothing to hide the way it stretched over his shoulders, his sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal the veins trailing down his forearms.

But it was his presence that stole your breath.

He wasn’t just playing. He was feeling the music. Fingers dancing over the guitar strings with practiced ease, head tilted slightly as if he were lost in the rhythm. His lips parted, brows furrowing slightly in concentration, his body moving with every note. He wasn’t just good—he was mesmerizing.

Your grip tightened on your phone.

You shouldn’t.

You really shouldn’t.

But you did.

Lifting the device, you snapped a picture of him mid-performance.

His fingers curled around the neck of the guitar, his head tilted back slightly, a sheen of sweat on his jawline catching the light. He looked unreal.

Your heart pounded as you typed out the message.

"You look good up there, rockstar."

You hit send before you could overthink it.

And then, you waited.

The song ended. The bar erupted into cheers and applause. You watched as Mingi pulled out his phone, his sharp gaze dropping to the screen. His thumb hovered over the message.

Then, his head lifted.

And he looked directly at you.

Your stomach dropped.

You knew the moment he recognized you.

His eyes darkened, his lips pressing into a firm line as he shoved his phone into his pocket without replying.

And then he moved.

Fast.

Your breath hitched as he pushed through the crowd, weaving between bodies with laser focus. People tried to stop him, patting his shoulder, talking to him, but he ignored them all.

You panicked.

Your heart hammered as you scrambled to stand, but it was too late.

Mingi was in front of you.

Tall. Intimidating. Gorgeous.

He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at you. Long and hard. As if he were seeing right through you, as if every conversation, every teasing text, every moment you had shared online had been leading to this very second.

“You just had to break your own rule, huh?”

His voice was deeper in person. It sent a shiver down your spine, something dangerous curling in your stomach.

“I—”

“Come with me.”

It wasn’t a request.

Before you could process what was happening, his fingers wrapped around your wrist, warm and firm. He didn’t give you a chance to argue, guiding you through the bar with a grip that wasn’t rough, but commanding.

You should’ve pulled away. You should’ve protested.

But you didn’t.

Because deep down, you had wanted this.

The drive to his apartment was silent, tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. Mingi’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his jaw clenched. You stole glances at him, at the way his fingers tapped against the leather, at the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed hard.

He was holding back.

And you weren’t sure if you wanted him to.

When he finally pulled into the parking lot, neither of you moved. The air inside the car was heavy, thick with anticipation.

Then, Mingi exhaled slowly and turned to you.

“You’re really here.” His voice was quieter now, almost disbelieving. His eyes dragged over your features, slow and deliberate, memorizing you in person.

You swallowed. “Yeah.”

Silence stretched between you.

Then, something in him snapped.

In an instant, he was on you.

His lips crashed against yours—hot, demanding, desperate.

You barely had time to gasp before he was kissing you deeper, tongue sliding against yours with a hunger that made your head spin. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you onto his lap, and you melted against him, fingers tangling in his hair.

“You have no idea,” he growled against your lips, “how long I’ve wanted this.”

His fingers dug into your skin, possessive, needy.

You whimpered.

And then, he devoured you whole.

The heat of his body seeped into yours, his large hands gripping your waist as you straddled him in the dimly lit car. His lips moved against yours with raw hunger, as if he had been holding back for far too long. Every brush of his tongue, every nip of his teeth sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

Mingi was possessive.

Not just in the way he kissed you, but in the way he touched you—like he was claiming you.

His hands roamed over your thighs, gripping the flesh beneath your dress, kneading, teasing. His breath was hot against your mouth when he pulled back, his gaze dark and unreadable.

“I should take you inside,” he muttered, his voice rough, strained.

You nodded, swallowing hard, but didn’t move.

Neither did he.

You could feel the hard press of his length beneath you, the way his fingers flexed against your hips, holding himself back.

“Mingi…” you breathed, your hands still fisted in his shirt.

He exhaled sharply, a muscle in his jaw ticking. “If you say my name like that again, I might just take you right here.”

Your breath hitched.

The idea of him not waiting, of him losing control right here in the car, sent heat pooling low in your stomach.

But then he groaned, tilting his head back against the seat. “No. Not like this. Not in a damn car.”

Before you could say anything, he tightened his grip on your waist, lifting you effortlessly off his lap. Your legs wobbled when your feet hit the ground, but he was already out of the car, grabbing your wrist again.

The walk to his apartment was a blur.

Your heart hammered against your ribs as he led you down the hallway, his long strides quick and purposeful. He was tense—like he was forcing himself to keep a leash on his desire.

And the moment the door shut behind you, that leash snapped.

You barely had time to take in the dimly lit apartment before you were pinned against the wall.

Mingi’s hands were on you in an instant—gripping your hips, your waist, sliding up to your throat. His chest pressed against yours, his breath heavy, ragged.

“Do you have any idea,” he murmured, voice dangerously low, “how long I’ve wanted to get my hands on you?”

Your breath came out in a shaky gasp. “Then do it.”

His pupils dilated. His lips parted.

And then, he did.

His mouth was on yours again, but this time, it was different.

Slower. Deeper.

He wasn’t rushing anymore. He was savoring.

The kiss was a drug, intoxicating and thorough. His tongue teased, exploring you with a patience that made you ache. He pulled away just enough to nip at your lower lip, smirking when you whimpered.

“You taste just as sweet as I imagined,” he muttered, voice husky.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging slightly, and he let out a low groan.

“You like teasing me?” he mused, pressing his thigh between your legs, applying just enough pressure to make you shudder.

You bit your lip, trying not to moan, but he noticed.

“Oh, baby,” he breathed, amusement laced in his tone. “You need me to ruin you, don’t you?”

Your body burned at his words, the sheer dominance in his voice making you tremble.

Mingi leaned in, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Then let me.”

And that was all the warning you got before he lifted you into his arms and carried you to his bedroom.

Mingi’s bedroom was dimly lit, the warm glow of a single bedside lamp casting long shadows across the space. The moment he set you down, you barely had time to register your surroundings before he was on you again.

His hands found your waist, fingers digging in just enough to make you feel small under his touch. His lips hovered over yours, teasing—so close, yet refusing to give in completely.

You whimpered, tilting your head up, trying to close the distance.

He smirked.

"That desperate already?" His voice was a low drawl, dripping with amusement.

Your cheeks burned, but you refused to back down. "You're the one who dragged me here."

Mingi hummed, tilting his head slightly. His silver chain glinted under the low light, drawing your attention to the sharp cut of his collarbone. You swallowed hard, resisting the urge to reach out and run your fingers along it.

But he saw where your eyes landed.

And he used it against you.

His fingers reached up, wrapping around the cool metal of his necklace, tugging it slightly as he let out a thoughtful hum. "You like this?" he mused, rolling the chain between his fingers before letting it dangle loose again.

Your throat went dry. "I—"

He didn’t let you answer.

Instead, he leaned in until his lips brushed against your ear. His breath was warm, teasing. "Say it," he murmured. "Say you like it, baby."

Your pulse pounded. You hated how easily he could unravel you with just a few words.

"... I like it," you admitted softly.

Mingi chuckled, the deep sound vibrating against your skin. "Yeah? You like my silver chain?"

His hand suddenly grabbed yours, guiding it up until your fingers wrapped around it. The cool metal pressed against your palm, stark against the warmth of his skin.

"Then hold onto it," he whispered. "While I ruin you."

Your breath hitched.

Before you could process what was happening, his lips crashed into yours again—but this time, it was hungry. Deep. Possessive.

You gasped against his mouth, and he took advantage of it, his tongue slipping past your lips, claiming you without hesitation. The kiss was messy, all heat and need, his hands roaming down your back before gripping your ass, pulling you flush against him.

The bulge in his jeans pressed into your core, making you whimper.

He growled, nipping at your bottom lip. "So fucking soft," he muttered, dragging his hands up your body. His thumbs brushed over your hardened nipples through the fabric of your dress, and you shuddered.

Mingi smirked against your mouth. "That sensitive, baby?"

You bit your lip, trying to hold back a whine, but he caught your chin between his fingers. His eyes darkened.

"Don't you dare hold back on me."

Your heart stuttered.

Mingi was playing with you. Teasing you, drawing it out just to watch you fall apart. And it was working.

His hand moved to the straps of your dress, slowly sliding one down your shoulder. Then the other.

The fabric pooled at your waist, exposing your bare chest to the cool air.

Mingi inhaled sharply, his gaze devouring you.

"Fuck," he muttered, almost to himself. "You're even prettier than I imagined."

His fingers trailed down, ghosting over your nipple—but not touching. Not yet. Just enough to make you squirm.

You whined softly, arching into him, and that was exactly what he wanted.

His lips curled into a smirk.

"Needy little thing," he murmured. "I should make you beg for it, shouldn’t I?"

Your eyes widened. "Mingi—"

His thumb finally brushed over your nipple, rolling it between his fingers.

You gasped.

He chuckled darkly. "I’ll take my time, baby. Don’t worry."

His mouth lowered, lips hovering just above your skin. You could feel his breath, so close, but he still didn’t touch.

The anticipation was torture.

"Mingi, please—"

His teeth grazed your nipple, just barely, and your whole body jolted.

He groaned. "Shit. You're so fucking sensitive."

Your fingers tightened around his silver chain, and he felt it.

His head snapped up, eyes burning into yours.

"You like that, huh?" His voice was darker now, rougher.

Your breath came out shaky. "Y-Yeah."

Mingi exhaled sharply, his restraint hanging by a thread. "Then let me see how much you can take."

And with that, his mouth latched onto your nipple, sucking hard.

A strangled moan left your lips, your back arching as heat shot straight to your core.

Mingi growled against your skin, his hands gripping your thighs, pressing you down onto his lap where his cock was already hard against you.

Your fingers pulled on his chain, making the silver dig into his throat.

Mingi groaned.

"Oh, baby," he rasped. "You keep doing that, and I’m not gonna last long."

But that was a lie.

Because Mingi wasn’t anywhere close to being finished with you.

Mingi's grip on your thighs tightened as he continued to devour your skin, his mouth moving from your nipple to the soft expanse of your chest. He was taking his time, teasing you, making sure you felt every brush of his lips, every graze of his teeth.

But it wasn’t enough.

Not for him. Not for you.

The way your fingers clenched around his silver chain sent a shudder down his spine, a deep groan escaping his lips. He loved it—loved the way you pulled at it, the way you held onto him like you needed him to keep you steady.

“You like playing with my chain, baby?” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

You nodded, your breath shaky. “Yeah…”

Mingi smirked, his eyes burning into yours. “Then keep holding onto it. I wanna feel you pull when you can’t take it anymore.”

Before you could process his words, his teeth sank into the soft skin of your breast, just enough to make you gasp.

The sting melted into pleasure as he soothed the bite with his tongue, lapping over the mark he’d just left.

Your body arched into him, desperate for more, but he wasn’t done teasing you yet.

His hands trailed down, gripping your thighs before suddenly flipping you onto your stomach.

You barely had time to react before he was behind you, pressing you into the mattress. His chest was hot against your back, his breath fanning over the shell of your ear.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his hands sliding down your sides. “So eager… so fucking desperate for me.”

Your cheeks burned at his words, but you couldn’t deny it.

You needed him.

Mingi knew it too.

His fingers trailed lower, just barely brushing over the damp fabric between your legs. You jolted, a choked whimper slipping past your lips.

He chuckled darkly. “You’re already soaked, baby?”

You bit your lip, trying not to beg, but Mingi wasn’t having it.

His free hand wrapped around his chain, pulling it taut against your throat as he leaned in close. “Use your words, sweetheart,” he murmured, his lips grazing your ear. “Tell me how bad you want it.”

Your fingers tightened around the cool metal, your body trembling beneath him.

“Mingi… please.”

His grip on the chain loosened just enough to let you breathe, but his fingers slipped beneath your underwear, dragging over your soaked folds.

He groaned. “Fuck. You’re dripping for me.”

A broken moan escaped you as he slid one long finger inside, slowly, teasing you, curling just enough to make your stomach tighten.

Your grip on his necklace tightened.

Mingi smirked.

“Oh, baby,” he purred, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “We’re just getting started.”

Mingi’s breath was hot against your skin as his fingers moved achingly slow between your legs, dragging through your wetness just to tease you. His touch was barely there, like he wanted to see you squirm before he gave you what you wanted.

And you were squirming.

Your hips rocked against his hand, silently begging for more, but he only chuckled.

“So desperate, baby.” His voice was deep, smug. “I barely touched you, and you’re already this wet?”

Your cheeks burned, but you didn’t deny it. You couldn’t.

Because he was right.

The way he was controlling you, the way he was dragging this out, made your body pulse with need.

He brought his lips to your ear, his silver chain brushing against your skin as he whispered, “You like being teased, don’t you?”

You whimpered. “Mingi, please—”

His fingers pushed in deeper, curling inside you just enough to make your breath hitch.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “So fucking tight.”

You gasped, your grip on his necklace tightening, making the cool metal press into his throat.

Mingi felt it.

And it made him lose control.

His other hand yanked your hips up, pressing your ass against his clothed cock. You could feel how hard he was—throbbing against you, barely held back by the fabric of his jeans.

“Feel that, baby?” He grinded against you, his breath shaky. “That’s what you do to me.”

Your body shuddered at the sensation. The thick length of him pressing against your soaked heat was torture, but he still wasn’t giving you what you needed.

And he knew it.

Mingi chuckled darkly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as his fingers continued to fuck you slowly. “You’re so cute when you beg.”

His lips trailed down your spine, his pace never changing, just keeping you on the edge, making you ache for more.

Then, suddenly—his fingers were gone.

A desperate whimper slipped past your lips as you turned your head, ready to protest, but the words died on your tongue when you felt his hands on his belt.

The sound of metal clinking filled the room.

Mingi smirked. “You’re gonna take all of me, right, baby?”

Your heart stopped.

Then raced.

You swallowed hard, nodding.

Mingi chuckled, reaching for his silver chain again, rolling it between his fingers before grabbing your wrist and wrapping it around your palm.

"Hold onto it," he murmured. "And don't let go until I'm done with you."

And then—

He pushed in.

The stretch was intense—a delicious, burning sensation that had your lips parting in a silent gasp. Mingi groaned low in his throat, feeling how tight you were around him as he buried himself inside you, inch by inch.

"Shit," he muttered, his fingers gripping your hips with a bruising force. "You feel that, baby?"

Your nails dug into his silver chain, the cool metal pressed against your burning skin as you gasped, trying to adjust to the sheer size of him.

"Mingi—"

He pulled out just enough before slamming back in, making you cry out.

He grinned.

"That's it," he murmured, rolling his hips deeper, making sure you felt every inch. "Let me hear you."

His pace was slow, almost torturous, dragging out every sensation, every pulse of pleasure until you were whimpering beneath him. He loved it—loved how your body clenched around him, loved how you held onto his chain like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

"You're so fucking tight," he groaned, his fingers trailing up your spine. "Taking me so well, baby."

You tried to move your hips, desperate for more, but his hands held you down.

"Uh-uh," he clicked his tongue, amusement lacing his voice. "You don’t get to rush this."

He leaned down, his body pressing against yours, his silver chain cool against your heated skin. His lips brushed against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

"I'm gonna fuck you slow," he whispered, thrusting deep. "Until you're begging for me to ruin you."

Your breath hitched.

Mingi chuckled darkly. "And baby?"

His pace suddenly snapped.

"You will beg."

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room as he fucked you harder, the slow tease replaced with deep, merciless thrusts that had you gasping for air.

Your fingers clenched around his chain tightly, the metal digging into his throat, making his groans deeper, rougher.

"Fuck," he growled, his hips snapping forward. "You love this, don’t you?"

You couldn’t even speak—all you could do was moan, your body completely at his mercy.

Mingi grabbed your chin, turning your head so his lips brushed against yours. "Say it," he demanded, his eyes dark with lust. "Tell me you love it."

Your voice was shaky, breathless. "I—I love it."

Mingi groaned, his lips crashing against yours in a bruising kiss as he drove into you harder, his silver chain dangling between you, cool against your sweat-slicked skin.

"You better," he muttered against your lips. "Because I'm not stopping until you’re ruined."

Mingi’s hand was still gripping your chin, forcing you to look back at him as he thrust deep inside you, each stroke hitting the spot that had your toes curling. His silver chain dangled in front of your lips, glinting under the dim lights of his apartment, teasing you like he knew how much it turned you on.

“You keep pulling on it,” he murmured, voice dark, teasing. “You like my chain that much, baby?”

You whimpered, unable to form a proper response with the way he was fucking you senseless.

Mingi’s grip tightened. “Open your mouth.”

Your lips parted without hesitation, your breath shaky.

A slow smirk spread across his face. He took the chain between his fingers and dragged the cool metal across your tongue, making you taste the mix of sweat and heat from where it had been pressed against his skin.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his thrusts never faltering. “Suck on it.”

Your eyes rolled back as you closed your lips around the chain, the taste of metal and him flooding your senses while he slammed into you from behind.

Mingi groaned, his head falling back. “Fuck, you’re so filthy for me.”

His hand slid lower, wrapping around your throat, tightening just enough to make your breath hitch. His grip wasn’t harsh, just enough to make you feel lightheaded—drunk off him, off the way he was completely owning you.

“You like being used like this?” he rasped, his pace merciless. “Being my little toy to fuck however I want?”

The way your body clenched around him told him everything he needed to know.

Mingi growled. “God, you’re so fucking dirty.”

One of his hands slid down, slipping between your legs, rubbing you in tight circles that had your entire body trembling.

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” he taunted, his voice dripping with pure sin. “Gonna cum while sucking on my chain like a filthy little thing?”

Your whimpers turned into cries, the mix of his cock, his hand, his chain pushing you right to the edge.

Mingi felt it.

“Fuck—do it,” he groaned, his hand tightening around your throat. “Cum for me, baby. Make a mess all over my cock.”

And with one final snap of his hips—

You shattered.

Your entire body convulsed, your vision going white as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Mingi cursed, feeling you clench so tight around him, and before he could even pull out, he was right behind you, spilling inside you with a deep, guttural groan.

For a moment, all you could hear was heavy breathing, the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Mingi leaned over you, pressing a slow, possessive kiss to your shoulder before whispering,

“Next time, baby… you’re gonna swallow something else.”

Mingi barely gave you time to recover. Your body was still trembling, your breath uneven, your skin slick with sweat—but he wasn’t done with you. Not even close.

He pulled out slowly, watching with dark, hooded eyes as his cum dripped out of you, coating your thighs.

His tongue clicked. “Look at that,” he murmured, dragging his fingers through the mess he made. “You’re leaking all over yourself, baby.”

You whimpered, your body over-sensitive, but Mingi didn’t care.

He brought his fingers to your lips.

“Clean it up.”

Your breath hitched as you stared at him, dazed, but when his brows lifted in expectation, you obeyed—your lips parting, your tongue flicking out to lick his fingers clean.

Mingi groaned, his cock already hard again.

"Fuck, you’re so filthy," he muttered, his silver chain swinging as he grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

"You want more?" he taunted, pressing his cock against your entrance, rubbing it against your aching heat. "You think you can handle another round?"

You nodded quickly, desperate.

But Mingi wasn’t convinced.

“Beg for it.”

Your breath shuddered.

"Mingi… please," you whimpered, shifting your hips to try and push against him. "I need it. I need you."

His smirk was ruthless.

"That’s my girl," he murmured, and before you could brace yourself—

He slammed into you.

A sharp cry left your lips as he bottomed out in one thrust, stretching you all over again, but this time—there was no slow build-up.

No teasing.

Just pure, raw, animalistic fucking.

Mingi's hands gripped your hips, pulling you back to meet his thrusts as he fucked into you with no restraint. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, the headboard banging against the wall with each brutal stroke.

His silver chain dangled over your face, brushing against your parted lips.

"You take me so fucking well," he gritted out, watching how your body shuddered beneath him. "You're just made for me, aren’t you?"

Your moans were incoherent, your body pushed past its limits, but you didn’t care.

You wanted more.

Mingi’s hand snaked around your throat, forcing you to arch your back as he pounded into you harder, his cock hitting deep, bruising places that had you screaming.

"You wanna be ruined, baby?" he growled. "Then take it. Take every fucking inch."

Tears pricked your eyes, the pleasure too much, too overwhelming, and yet—you still wanted more.

"God, you’re squeezing me so fucking tight," Mingi groaned, his voice strained. "Gonna cum again, huh?"

His fingers slid down to your swollen clit, rubbing you relentlessly.

"Cum for me," he ordered. "Scream my fucking name when you do."

Your vision blurred, your body seizing up as you came violently, your entire form shaking beneath him.

Mingi followed right after, groaning deep in his throat as he filled you up again, making sure you felt every hot drop.

And just when you thought he was finally done—

He smirked.

"Hope you’re not tired yet, baby," he murmured. "Because I’m still not finished with you."

Mingi barely gave you time to breathe. Your body was still twitching, completely spent from the last orgasm, but he wasn’t finished.

Not until you were soaked.

Not until you were dripping down your thighs.

"You’re shaking, baby," he teased, dragging his fingers down your spine as you collapsed against the mattress, your legs weak, your body wrecked.

But that didn’t stop him.

He grabbed you by the hips and flipped you onto your back, his silver chain dangling over your face as he leaned in close.

"You got one more for me?" he murmured, voice deep, low, dripping with sinful promise.

Your eyes fluttered open, dazed, lips trembling. "Mingi—"

He smirked, his fingers trailing lower, parting your thighs as he spread you wide open for him.

"Yeah," he murmured, watching you, eyes filled with pure lust. "You do."

And then—

His mouth was on you.

A loud, shattered moan tore from your lips as Mingi's tongue flicked over your swollen clit, the sensation sending a violent shudder through your body.

But he didn’t stop there.

No, he was hungry.

Desperate.

His tongue was relentless, licking, sucking, his lips wrapping around your clit as two thick fingers slid into your dripping entrance.

"Fuck—Mingi!" you gasped, your hands fisting the sheets, your legs trembling as he pumped his fingers into you, stretching you open all over again.

His pace was brutal—each thrust of his fingers curling against that sweet, devastating spot deep inside you.

You screamed.

Mingi groaned against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your core. His silver chain brushed against your inner thigh, cool against your burning hot skin, adding to the overwhelming sensation.

"You gonna cum again?" he murmured, his voice filthy, his fingers slamming into you even harder. "Gonna make a mess for me, baby?"

Your entire body locked up, the pressure building so intensely that you could barely breathe.

Mingi chuckled darkly, sensing it.

He pulled away for just a second, his fingers still moving ruthlessly as his eyes locked onto yours.

"Cum for me," he demanded, his voice like pure sin. "Fucking soak my fingers."

And then—

You snapped.

Your back arched off the bed, a broken scream ripping from your throat as hot liquid gushed from your body, completely drenching his hand, his wrist, the sheets below you.

Mingi groaned, watching it happen, watching the way you squirted uncontrollably, your body convulsing beneath him.

"Fuck, baby," he rasped, his fingers still working you, dragging out every last drop until you were begging for mercy.

But he just grinned.

"You’re so fucking dirty," he murmured, bringing his soaked fingers to his lips, licking them clean. "And I love it."

Your entire body shuddered, completely wrecked, but Mingi wasn’t done.

He climbed over you, his cock achingly hard again, pressing against your soaked, sensitive heat.

"You think you can handle one more?" he murmured, his silver chain dangling over your lips, his eyes dark, hungry.

Your breath was still shaky, but you nodded.

Mingi smirked.

"Good."

Your body was wrecked. Your thighs trembled, your breath came in ragged pants, and the sheets beneath you were completely soaked from what Mingi had done to you.

But he wasn’t done.

Not yet.

Not until you were crying for him.

Mingi sat back, his silver chain glistening with sweat as he ran his tongue across his lips, watching you struggle to catch your breath. His cock was hard and throbbing, still slick from your release, and the way his eyes darkened sent a shiver through your already-sensitive body.

"You did so well for me, baby," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, the kind of voice that made you drip even when you were spent.

"But," he continued, gripping his cock and dragging the thick tip through your soaked folds, teasing you until you whimpered, "I’m not done until I’ve ruined you completely."

And before you could even brace yourself—

Mingi slammed into you.

Your scream echoed through the room as he bottomed out in one brutal thrust, stretching you all over again. Your walls were already achingly sensitive, but Mingi didn't care.

He wanted more.

His hands gripped your thighs, pushing your legs back until your knees nearly touched your chest, folding you in half as he fucked you deep.

"Look at you," he groaned, his silver chain dangling over your face, brushing against your lips. "So fucking wet for me. You love being used like this, don’t you?"

Your answer was a broken whimper, your body already on fire.

Mingi’s grip tightened, his pace brutal, unforgiving, his cock hitting spots so deep it made your vision blur.

"You’re gonna take every inch," he growled, his voice pure dominance. "Gonna cum on my cock one more time before I fill you up, baby."

Your mind shattered.

Mingi’s hands slid down, one wrapping around your throat while the other slipped between your legs, his fingers rubbing tight, ruthless circles on your swollen clit.

"Come on, baby," he taunted, his silver chain brushing against your skin as he pounded into you. "I want to feel you lose control. I want you to scream my name."

You were so close.

Your body tensed, your breath caught—

Mingi smirked.

"Cum for me, baby. Soak my cock."

And then—

You snapped.

Your body convulsed, pleasure exploding through you as your orgasm hit you with a force so strong you screamed his name, your walls clenching, trembling, your entire body writhing beneath him.

Mingi groaned loudly, feeling you squeeze around him, and before he could hold back, his grip on your hips tightened and he spilled deep inside you, filling you up with hot, thick cum.

His thrusts slowed, his breaths ragged, his silver chain swinging as he leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours.

"Fuck," he panted, his voice wrecked, his lips brushing against yours. "That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen."

Your entire body shuddered, overwhelmed, wrecked, but completely satisfied.

Mingi smirked, pressing a slow, filthy kiss to your lips before whispering,

"Hope you weren’t planning to walk tomorrow, baby. Because you’re not leaving this bed."

#ateez #ateez fic #ateez smut #smut #mingi scenarios #ateez mingi #mingi smut #song mingi #mingi x reader #mingi #mingi fic

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cherrygirlfriend · 2 days ago

Text

❀˖° haven't been caught

pairing: kook!reader x bf!jj synopsis: reader sneaks out with her boyfriend warnings / tags: fluff wc: 600 a/n; inspired by the 5sos song 'good girls'. originally posted 09/24/2024

you're a good girl, daddy's favorite.

yet his lips on yours feel so addictive, his hands sliding up under the hem of your shirt behind the rows of books, pulling you closer.

everyone thinks you're sweet like sugar, pretty as a picture.

you have it all; a wealthy father who already planned out the next five years of your life down to the classes you'd be taking at a college he chose, one of the richest guys in town as your perfect boyfriend, an academic career to watch out for.

yet there you were, an eyeliner pencil in hand as you smudged some into your waterline, getting ready to see jj.

"if you're not more careful, you're gonna get caught." nicky piped up, scrolling on his phone on your bed.

"i know, that's what this is for." you sigh, turning to him, the boy looking at you up and down, "how do i look?"

"like a... pogue." nicky said, scrunching his nose up slightly as he took in your attire, your usual dresses and skirts replaced by a bikini top, one of jj's shirts and a pair of ripped denim shorts.

"perfect." you grin, "you remember our plan?"

"yes, don't come out of your room and if i hear your dad passing the door i'll pretend to be talking sweet nothings to you." he scoffed, "isn't it kind of weird that he lets us have sleepovers despite us 'dating'?"

"maybe he's seen you check him out." you say with a grin, "or he just hopes i baby-trap you."

"we would have a cute kid. if we end up in a lavender marriage, could we have one?"

"definitely." you said, opening your bedroom window, "tell connor i said hi."

"oh, 'hi sweetie, my girlfriend told me to say hi to you'." nicky rolled his eyes with a snort, watching as you started climbing out of your window. "tell pogue boy to bring you home at appropriate hours."

you flipped him off, before starting on your usual route out of your bedroom. and when you landed on the ground and saw him leaning against his dirt bike with his usual grin adorning his face, you couldn't help but run to him, a wide smile on your face.

jj laughed as he caught you, holding onto your waist as you kissed him, the blonde lifting you off the ground. "missed you..." he mumbled against your lips as he set you back down, his forehead connected with yours.

"i missed you too."

"ready to go?"

"where are we going?"

"somewhere we get to be alone." jj shrugged, a daring look on his eyes as you both hopped onto his bike.

your arms tightened their hold around his waist, the wind sweeping your hair back as you flew past the line between figure eight and the cut, and in that moment, it didn't matter to you that it was in the middle of the night, or that this should be the last thing you're doing with the last person you were supposed to be doing it with, all that mattered was how warm jj's body felt under your hands.

and every part of you was ecstatic when you finally got to be alone with him, to feel his hands on your body. guess good girls are just bad girls that haven't been caught.

#jj maybank #outer banks #old account repost !!!#jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #outer banks jj #rudy pankow #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank x y/n #outer banks fic #outer banks fluff #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks fandom #obx

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6qubed · 1 day ago

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not to derail, but as a kid in elementary school with really bad ADHD (and my ADHD is still really bad at damn near forty, so picture that shit) I had a lot of trouble with other kids that involved the school calling my parents. well one day in particular I get home from school after my mom had been called in to pick me up, and my dad's sitting in the living room with a new Transformers toy; a big one, that like turns from a big 18-wheeler into two spaceships. anyway, he says that he had been planning on giving that to me as a gift that day, but since I got into Big Trouble it would basically be like rewarding that, and obviously that wasn't gonna happen.

so what he did instead was he sat it right on top of the freezer (we had a big standalone freezer in the kitchen that was fridge-shaped) but put it where I could see it and told me that if I wanted it, I'd have to stay out of trouble for three days in a row. he said that knowing full well that I was young enough that three days was Basically Forever™, and the real punishment was that it took me closer to three weeks to finally get that particular slot machine to come up all cherries and I was seeing the prize I wasn't winning because I couldn't behave every breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I'd like to think I was better behaved past that point but that could just be revisionism on my part.

less dramatically, I used to be a picky eater as a kid (and I'm still picky, so you can etc etc) so what my parents did eventually was institute "The Two-Bite Rule". the rule was that if I didn't like the look of something, I didn't have to eat it. BUT. before I gave it the final thumbs-down I had to try at least two bites of it. I had to give it two proper fork-fulls to properly form an opinion on it. and while most of the time stuff wasn't my new favorite thing and was just Basically Okay™, they weren't the horrible sewage-tasting thing that dumb little me had built them up to be in my head. plus when I got older, I was able to adapt this into "The Two-Song Rule" for when I was buying new music CDs

I am exceptionally lucky in that my parents never hit me, grounded me, confiscated my things, banned me from my hobbies or threatened any of these actions to make me behave as a kid. as an adult it has made me realise how very very long a road most people have to traverse before they can take a statement like 'no rule that must be enforced by threat is legitimate' seriously.

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cruel-seduction · 2 days ago

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Beyond Fears

Summary - With the biggest exam of your life coming up, stress is eating you alive—but Mattheo refuses to let it win. He’ll do whatever it takes to pull you out of your own head, even if it means causing a little chaos. But when the truth behind your fear comes out, he’s ready to remind you of one thing—no matter what happens, he’s not going anywhere.

Content Warning - Suggestive theme and Curse words.

Glimpse - “And as for your stupid little fear that I’ll find someone else—ugh, babe, do you think I’m insane? That my brain is rotting?” His lips twitched into a smirk before softening again. “Do you think I’d willingly trade you—the love of my fucking life, the only person who actually laughs at my dumb jokes, the only one who knows exactly how I like my coffee, the only soul on this godforsaken planet who makes me feel like I belong—for anyone else?” His voice was raw now, honest in a way that made your chest ache.

His forehead pressed against yours, his nose brushing yours as he whispered, “Baby, there is no one else. There never will be.”

a/n - Credit goes to @bernardsbendystraws. And also I wrote this based of on a scene from my fav show. Cause I needed to do crying reader over valid reason and this seem like best. And she does portrays that she is strong. but Mattheo is Mattheo bro.

Requested by @jarjarbinks-har-har

Mattheo could feel the tension rolling off you from a mile away—thick, restless, electric. Anxiety coiled around your frame like an iron grip, tightening with every breath you took. The upcoming exam loomed over you like a storm cloud, its weight pressing down on you with an unbearable force. If you passed, you’d be the youngest woman in history to earn a seat at one of the most prestigious higher education institutions for witches and wizards. The pressure was suffocating, an invisible noose tightening around your throat.

You weren’t the only one feeling it. Mattheo was tense too, but not because of the exam. No, he was wound up because of you—because your stress became his stress, your suffering bled into him like an open wound. He’d tried everything to ease your nerves. He took you to your favorite coffee shop, bought you anything you wanted, even tried distracting you with jokes and stolen kisses—but nothing worked. You were drowning in books, lost in your relentless pursuit of perfection, and no amount of comfort could pull you out.

Eighteen hours. That’s how long you had gone without sleep. Maybe more. You were running purely on caffeine and raw determination, your veins practically humming with exhaustion. Dark circles didn’t just shadow your eyes—they owned your face, carved into your skin like permanent bruises. At night, you sang old traditional songs in a hollow, eerie voice, studying by torchlight like some deranged scholar possessed by ancient magic. Your roommates had given up on you, groaning in frustration as your muttered revisions carried into the early hours. Even when Mattheo convinced you to crash in his dorm, you never truly rested. You just laid there beside him, whispering formulas, theories, and incantations under your breath, your fingers tracing invisible notes on his skin. It was getting out of hand.

Mattheo watched you now, his jaw clenched as he took in the sight before him—you, hunched over a book in the Great Hall, a cup of coffee gripped in one trembling hand, barely picking at your food with the other. Students all around were suffering through exam stress, but Mattheo didn’t give a damn about any of them. You were the only one who mattered. And watching you unravel like this was killing him.

Sitting beside him, Theodore Nott let out a low whistle. “Mate, what the hell is wrong with her?” he muttered, following Mattheo’s gaze.

Mattheo exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “That stupid exam is next week. She’s pushing herself too hard. If she doesn’t pass, she won’t be able to retake it for another four years. That would completely screw up her entire life plan.” His voice was tight, frustration laced beneath the concern.

Theodore huffed a laugh, lips curling in amusement. “Please, it can’t be that serious. No one plans their life around one exam.” Mattheo’s eyes darkened as he turned toward his friend. “It’s her wallpaper.” Theodore’s brow furrowed. “What?”

Mattheo ran a hand through his hair. “The life plan. It hangs over her bed.” Theodore’s mouth formed a small ‘O’ of realization, his amusement fading into something more thoughtful.

Mattheo knew this couldn’t go on. He couldn’t just sit back and watch you self-destruct. No, he had to do something.

And he knew exactly what to do.

Later that day, Mattheo found you exactly where he expected—in the library, buried under an avalanche of books, your fingers gripping a quill like it was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. Without a word, he sank into the chair beside you, drumming his fingers against the wooden surface.

You didn’t even glance up, just exhaled a frustrated sigh before whispering, “Don’t waste my time. Just say what you wanna say.”

Mattheo smirked, leaning back in his chair with that signature arrogance, the kind that both infuriated and charmed you in equal measure. “Babe, don’t worry. You’re gonna crush it. You could take this exam with one eye closed and still beat half these idiots. And most importantly—” he paused, his voice softening slightly, “—even if you don’t, it’s fine. You got this.”

Your eyes snapped to his, narrowing. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” you scoffed. “You’re only saying this because you love me. Love has made you dumber.”

Mattheo let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “No, I don’t think so. If anything, love has made me smarter. See, I haven’t picked a single fight this whole month.”

Your lips twitched despite yourself, a ghost of a proud smile appearing. “Yes, I am very proud of you for that. But if you don’t get the hell out in ten seconds, I will personally break your nose.”

Mattheo grinned like he’d been waiting for exactly that response. In a single, swift motion, he grabbed your wrist, yanking you to your feet before you could protest.

“What the hell, Mattheo?!” You struggled against his grip, your chair scraping noisily against the floor as he dragged you out of the library. Heads turned. You scowled. “Stop! I swear to Merlin, if this is another one of your—”

He didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow down, only coming to a halt when he shoved open the door to an abandoned classroom and pulled you inside.

You shot him a glare as you yanked your arm free. “This better be good, Riddle, or I’m hexing your balls into oblivion.”

Mattheo’s smirk widened as he leaned casually against a desk, arms crossed over his chest. “Since you’re so stressed, I figured—why not give you a test?”

Your eyes darkened, your irritation sharpening into a glare. “Are you serious? You dragged me here for a fake test? These things are useless, Mattheo. They don’t have the same pressure, the same distractions. It’s all too damn quiet and perfect, like the walls themselves are whispering the answers.”

Mattheo tilted his head, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Yeah, I figured you’d say that.” He clapped his hands together once, and suddenly, the door swung open.

In walked Abby and Scully from Ravenclaw, each lugging twenty-five bags of chips. As they sat down, they immediately started munching—loudly. Crunching, smacking, licking their fingers like they were trying to break a world record for obnoxious eating.

Your eye twitched.

But that wasn’t all. Right behind them, a group of students filed in—loud ones. The kind who couldn’t stay quiet if their lives depended on it. They bickered, they whispered, they tapped their quills against the desks, they fidgeted like caffeinated squirrels.

Mattheo leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered, “Better prepare yourself, Y/L/N. This is your battlefield.” Then, with a wicked grin, he added, “And I know you wanna rip my clothes off right now, but you’re gonna have to wait and ace this test first.”

You stepped closer, so close that he sucked in a breath, his smirk faltering just slightly. Your voice dropped to a sultry whisper, just for him.

“I am so fucking turned on by you right now.” You smirked. “Give me five minutes to destroy this test. Then? You.”

Mattheo’s mouth fell open slightly, like he’d just been hit by a Confundus Charm.

You winked, snatching up the test from his hands, and took your seat, utterly unbothered by the chaos around you.

Mattheo, still standing there, watching you with something dark and heated in his gaze, let out a quiet, disbelieving chuckle.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered. “I think I just made studying sexy.”

Mattheo sat outside on the Quidditch field, staring up at the darkening sky, the cool breeze doing nothing to temper the frustration simmering in his chest. His fingers fidgeted with a stray blade of grass as he replayed the events of the day over and over in his head. He was about to go find you himself when he noticed Abby and Scully trudging toward him, looking particularly sheepish.

“We’re out of chips,” they said in perfect unison.

Mattheo blinked. Then scowled. “What the hell? I gave you fifty packets. And I told you to stay in that damn room.”

Scully shifted uncomfortably before muttering, “About that… Y/N kinda… vanished.”

Mattheo’s stomach dropped. His jaw clenched. “Vanished?” His voice was eerily calm, but his eyes—oh, his eyes had darkened into something deadly.

Abby nodded. “Yeah, she just—poof. One second she was there, the next, gone. No idea where.”

Mattheo shot to his feet, his entire body thrumming with tension. “I asked you to do one thing,” he snapped, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “One fucking thing—and you couldn’t even do that?” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Move aside.”

It was almost nightfall, and Mattheo, along with his friends, had been searching for you for over an hour. You were nowhere to be found. His mind churned with possibilities—were you upset? Were you hiding? Had something happened? And then, like a punch to the gut, it hit him.

Today’s date.

Mattheo stopped in his tracks, exhaling as realization settled over him. “I know where she is,” he muttered. “Go back to the dorms—I got this.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and headed toward the Potions classroom.

And there you were.

Curled up in a ball, tucked into the shadows, your arms wrapped around your knees as if holding yourself together. The dim candlelight flickered against your face, casting soft, golden hues over your tear-streaked cheeks. His chest tightened at the sight.

Mattheo said nothing as he stepped inside. He didn’t need to. Instead, he lowered himself to the floor beside you, his presence warm and steady.

You glanced up, your voice barely above a whisper. “How did you find me?”

His expression remained neutral, but his eyes—his eyes—were soft as they met yours. “15th of March.”

A humorless laugh escaped your lips, and despite yourself, a small, sad smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. “Of course.”

Mattheo’s lips curled into one of those rare smiles—the kind he didn’t give just anyone. “A year ago, today, we had detention together.” His tone turned teasing. “You spent the whole night pretending to be annoyed while secretly staring at me like I was the hottest thing you’d ever seen, and by the end of it, you were completely infatuated with me.”

You gave him a side-eye. “Mattheo.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. You flirted with me for fifteen seconds, and I became obsessed.”

You let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head. “Sounds more accurate.”

A comfortable silence settled between you both.

And then, softly, Mattheo asked, “Babe, can you tell me the real reason why you’re scared?”

You hesitated for a moment before shifting closer, resting your head against his shoulder. His warmth seeped into you, grounding you, anchoring you.

“I didn’t even know why I was so tense before,” you admitted. “But when I was in that classroom, giving that practice test… I realized.” Your throat tightened. “Passing this test means going away from you. And I—I don’t know how to handle that.”

Mattheo stayed quiet, letting you speak.

“All these days, I’ve been drowning myself in books, trying to avoid thinking about it. But in that classroom, it hit me.” Your voice cracked. “Everything between us is so good right now. But what if leaving ruins that? What if we can’t make long distance work? What if me being gone changes everything?” A tear slid down your cheek, soaking into Mattheo’s shirt. “And what if—” your voice broke entirely, and you inhaled shakily, “—what if you realize that you deserve better? What if you find someone else, someone closer? Someone who isn’t a whole country away?”

Mattheo was quiet for a beat. Then, with a slow exhale, he shook his head and lifted his hands to your face, cradling your cheeks between his palms. He wiped your tears away gently, then—because he was still Mattheo—he wiped his hands off on your shirt, making you let out a watery laugh.

And then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said, “Babe, listen to me—no, actually, shut up and listen, because I know that pretty little overthinking brain of yours is already running marathons.” His thumbs stroked your cheekbones, his touch featherlight. His gaze—intense, unwavering, filled with nothing but love—held you in place, made you feel every word before he even said them.

“Darling, if you don’t go—if you give up your dream for me—I swear I will throw myself into the nearest trash can and live there forever because that’s exactly where I belong if I let you do that.” His voice was steady, firm, convincing. “Baby, I want you to go. I need you to go. Not because I want to be away from you—hell no, I’m already dreading the distance—but because you’ve been dreaming about this since you were a kid, and the only thing worse than missing you would be watching you resent me for holding you back.”

You sniffled, lips trembling.

“And as for your stupid little fear that I’ll find someone else—ugh, babe, do you think I’m insane? That my brain is rotting?” His lips twitched into a smirk before softening again. “Do you think I’d willingly trade you—the love of my fucking life, the only person who actually laughs at my dumb jokes, the only one who knows exactly how I like my coffee, the only soul on this godforsaken planet who makes me feel like I belong—for anyone else?” His voice was raw now, honest in a way that made your chest ache.

His forehead pressed against yours, his nose brushing yours as he whispered, “Baby, there is no one else. There never will be.”

Tears slipped silently down your cheeks.

“So go. Conquer. Be brilliant.” He swallowed thickly. “And when you come back, I’ll be right here, still stupidly in love with you, probably crying into your hoodie and talking to your pictures like a lunatic.” He gave you a small, wry smile. “But I’ll be yours. Always.”

Your lips trembled. Your fingers clutched at the fabric of his shirt.

And then, with no warning, you surged forward, crashing your lips against his in a kiss so deep, so desperate, it stole the breath from both your lungs.

Mattheo exhaled into your mouth, his arms winding around you like he never wanted to let go.

And maybe, just maybe—he never would.

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle x y/n #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle blurb #mattheo riddle fanfic #harry potter #slytherin #slytherin boys #mattheo fluff #mattheo riddle drabble #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle scenarios #slytherin boys x reader

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sharky-teeth · 2 days ago

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anyone looking for more wincest fic recs?? nobody?? okay here you go anyway. i have a bunch of fics i couldn't fit into the other list, so i needed to make a brand new one with more variety this time around. i organized it by wordcount to make things easier, however i rarely read long fics, so these are mostly pretty short. once again this list got way out of hand...

(for mature or explicit rating, you can assume it's [sometimes implied] bottom sam, or it isn't discussed. for bottom dean or versatile samdean, i made a small separate section of my favorites.)

1k~5k

Remember the Mountain Bed by nigeltde (G, 1k): post canon. sam and dean jr. one of the only fics that have ever made me cry and with only a thousand words! this one is so very dear to my heart, heartbreaking in its details, yet warm and soothing at the same time. just gorgeous.

Are You by lovetincture (G, 1k): one of my favorite gen fics. i adore second person POV and this is a great example of how it can maximize impact.

I Was the Dirty Little Boy (E, 1k): a quick weecest sparring session turning into spanking... you know. the good stuff.

Stealth Run by LaughableLament (E, 1k): late seasons + established relationship + possessive dean + slutty sam. i love this author a lot.

State of Mind by lovetincture (M, 2k): the summary goes "It's legal in the state of Ohio." yes it is as good as suggested. the tension in this fic mwahh

The Euphoria Emporium by Laughable_Lament (E, 2k): sam and dean visit a sex shop and dean gets jealous. quick and nasty.

Be Mine by De_Nugis (T, 2k): first part of a short series. for people who love silly, goofy samdean. this is no plot, pure crack. the kind that actually makes you laugh out loud.

Dating for Dummies by sevenfists (M, 3k): there's not enough first time aftermath fics. this has ruined me because it is the exact level of lighthearted i love, where the brothers continue being brothers first and foremost, even after boning.

We Are Drinking Beer at Noon on Tuesday by whirlpoolsleep (M, 3k): neat outsider POV. always love seeing the brothers through normal people's eyes.

With Mercy for the Greedy by whiskyandoldspice (E, 3k): unmatched weecest pwp. the amount of hits/kudos doesn't always mean quality but for this one it absolutely does. this is pretty much flawless in my eyes.

August 5th, 2001 by coricomile (M, 4k): established weecest! this was cute and tender with the right amount of angst surrounding sam's imminent departure. bittersweet ending.

Run It All Over by runawaydr3amer (E, 4k): first part of a series. the classic "brotherly handjobs" scenario, but it immediately stood out to me. really on point voices and hot amosphere.

Dean's palm would be rougher by FrancesHouseman (M, 4k): hand kink! i think we can all relate to sam here. this has a scene that's hotter than many pwps i've read lol

Know when to walk away and know when to run by deirdre_c (E, 4k): brothers playing strip poker goes too far... set in s3. great sexual tension and a super satisfying first time.

At Least It's Only One Song by ADeedWithoutaName (E, 4k): dean-gifting-sam-a-lap-dance fic. another outsider POV with an instantly likable OC. she can tell there's something off about those guys...

sticks and stones and weed and bones by aeroport_art (M, 5k): sam seeing a therapist at stanford. really great character study and winchester family dynamics. the conclusion to this story is just... crazy. so well done.

Shadows on the Sun by Linden (M, 5k): soft weecest first kiss! the thing i liked most in this story is how protective they both are. nice brotherly feelings.

wretched creation (M, 5k): one of my favorite reads of last year! criminally underrated work with less than a thousand hits. angsty feels and an unsettling atmosphere. dean facing a demon who knows more about his feelings toward his little brother than he'd like.

Forty-One by themegalosaurus (E, 5k): angsty unnegotiated kinky sex with lots of hell trauma. the kind of porn that's so nuanced and well written it doesn't get me horny (that's a compliment!)

Monumentally Stupid by strive2bhappy (5k): dean helps sam shave and it was hotter than i could ever imagine. great banter, tension, and emotional weight.

Double Solitaire by objectlesson (M, 5k): post mystery spot. amazing character study through a very creative concept. this is one of the authors who really knew how to write dysfunctional wincest.

6k~10k

this bullet inside me by missroserose (E, 6k): who's up for angsty first time in a long time? if you enjoy hathfrozen (i'm sure you do), this will definitely hit a similar spot.

Belonging by strive2bhappy (6k): wifey sam. i repeat Wifey Sam!!!

Lucky Streak by merle_p (M, 6k): thirsty pining done so right. incest that gives you butterflies in the stomach, believe it or not.

You Can't Lose What You Never Had by nigeltde (E, 6k): nigeltde is an incredible writer. from beginning to end this fic is insane. angsty, desperate, emotional, shameful, this takes you on a rollercoaster of emotions. top notch characterization.

How it Works by Dyed_Red (M, 6k): this is probably in my top ten fics of all time, peak codependent, obsessive, dysfunctional samdean. this particular fic really nails their dynamic and the most delicious, fucked up aspects of it.

Taking to Give by Dyed_Red (M, 7k): lovely character study. this one is a bit softer than most Dyed_Red works, it offers an emotional view of sam and dean growing up. heartwarming and heartbreaking at the same time.

Wire Inside Me by merle_p (E, 7k): the sam-is-carrying-lucifer's-baby fic. this story is great for how it deals with the pregnancy pushing dean over the edge. the first time tension here is excellent!

Dean is badass. Sam has always known it. by FrancesHouseman (E, 7k): very interesting dynamic with sam and dean playing mind games to see who gives in first. i like this cocky sam a lot.

Hush Little Baby by hellhoundsprey (E, 7k): CNC weecest. sam and dean go to a haunted house and get up to some nasty freaky shit. it's even better than you can imagine. fyi there's dean in a clown costume.

they said it was the fall of man by jukeboxhound (M, 7k): set in s6, the aftermath of sam getting his soul back through dean's POV. pure angst and overwhelming emotions, beautifully written, it hurt so good.

Man of Steel by glovered (T, 8k): THE lighthearted incest fic for me. along the lines of paxlux's 'Artery', at least to me. this borders on crack, a hilarious, feel-good story that always makes me smile when i think about it.

Disney Princess Hair by Dyed_Red (T, 8k): gencest/weirdcest in its best shape. sam as sleeping beauty! and obviously dean being very very very weird about handling the curse. i loved how this touched on the obsessive aspects of their relationship while keeping the tone light.

Architecture of Choice by Dyed_Red (E, 9k): yes another Dyed_Red work bc they're my favorite author. this one has one of my fave tropes (fuck or die) and it deals with sam's lack of bodily autonomy in a visceral way.

Pull over by jjtaylor (E, 9k): for my piss play enjoyers! this has lots of great tension and it goes way beyond kinky sex.

This Is All Very Meta by road_rhythm (E, 10k): loss of virginity roleplay fic. except it's sooo much more than that. i thought this would be fun and lighthearted, couldn't have been more wrong. the emotional depth delivered here caught me by surprise, but it shouldn't have, given the author. flawless characterization as usual.

God will forgive me but by sammyatstanford (E, 10k): weecest with lots of pining!sam and angsty yearning. brothers who need each other in sick, twisted ways. there was also a great amount of actual brotherly feelings, which is always a plus in my book.

>10k

Acid by Goshen (E, 12k): to this day one of the most insane things ever written. this fic is a classic, it's a surreal experience, a fever dream. dissecting the brotherfuckers, no stone left unturned.

Baby Blue by Edwardina (E, 13k): sam gets hit with a curse that makes him need to suck on a pacifier 24/7. it turned out to be way less sexual than i expected, this is for caretaker!dean lovers.

Learn to say the same thing by glovered (T, 14k): great case fic. sam and dean go to a single's retreat in the mountains for a case and eventually have to confront their incestuous feelings. every glovered fic just fills me with joy.

Supersize Me, Sammy by awabubbles (E, 16k): sadly one of the only size queen sam fics ever written, but it is absolutely perfect so i made my peace with that.

Only Natural (Be My Hands) (E, 17k): sam manages to break both his wrists so dean steps up to take care of his needs. and i mean all of his needs.

Relapse by ani_coolgirl (M, 21k): lebanon AU. i adore this fic, i'm in love with it, i think about it all the time and will think about it forever probably. everything here was done incredibly well, one of those fics that feel specifically made for me lol

Edges by glovered (M, 23k): amazing banter and lots of UST. set in stanford era but it's not really angsty. the tone was just perfect for me, this fic had me GIDDY.

Driving Down the Darkness by Nutkin (M, 39k): one of my faves in terms of Brotherly Feels. extremely well written and thoughtful, super slow burn. outstanding early seasons getting together fic that everyone should read.

Like a Ghost with Two Voices by Dyed_Red (E, 46k): my favorite demon!dean fic. some of the wildest scenes i've ever read. pretty disturbing and incredibly delicious. if you're into fucked up consent stuff, this is a must read. it has a happy ending!

bottom dean and versatile samdean recs:

Take Backs by saltandbyrne (E, 2k): swesson + switching. hands down one of the best PWPs i've ever read, which was to be expected from saltandbyrne. it really doesn't get filthier than this.

How to Wear Polka Dots by homo_pink (M, 6k): swesson. this one is so so weird. and so charming. interesting and refreshing writing style, i had so much fun reading this.

Here's Your Future by autoschediastic (E, 7k): weecest with teasing!dean for a change. loved the power dynamics here, and the intensity throughout the whole fic. desperate, guilty first time, badwrong at its finest.

Enduring Love by oschun (E, 7k): really enjoyed the relationship study here, insightful and well written.

there will be better days by deadlybride (E, 9k): my favorite heaven fic! so warm and peaceful and emotional, full of love and longing and happy reunited soulmates. just thinking about this story makes my heart ache in the best way. really really beautiful.

Yeah, I'm a Back Door Man (E, 22k): established relationship. dean's hell trauma. this was a rollercoaster, great character study, good mix of angst and schmoop as well. probably the best bottom dean i've read so far (along with a couple Goshen works)

Yesterday, minnesota by Goshen: (E, 29k): speaking of applecrumbledore... this fic truly rewired my brain. the queen of "fucking for years without talking about it until one of them snaps". brilliantly executed, one of my favorite deans ever.

yay it's finally over! still i wish i had more long fics to rec lmao do check tags carefully before reading! enjoy the wincest goodness!

#fic recs #samdean #wincest #bottom sam

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lovecla · 2 days ago

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TBH ; LUKE HUGHES

PAIR ex-luke hughes x fem!reader, auston matthews x fem!reader

SUMMARY maybe luke hughes’ passion isn’t enough. he just doesn’t know about it, yet.

WORD COUNT 1.1k

WARNINGS suggestive, jealous luke, size kink, heavily inspired by the song ‘tbh’ by partynextdoor, lowkey toxic luke, mentions of sex.

FROM ME TO YOU listen, i know i have, like, one hundred and twenty things to write but this is one of my favorite songs and i just wanted to leave this here!!! this is something super short, messy and not at all my style, but i still wanted to do something with this song. i’d recommend reading this while listening to the song ;) as always, i love you and have a nice reading!

𐙚

HE COULD’VE swear he felt it when you entered the room.

It wouldn’t be easy to explain if he tried to, but with the way the hairs on his arms stood up when you stepped into the room, he knew he was screwed.

He was sitting on the couch across the room, with a couple of people standing in front of him, as he discussed with Curtis about something he now can’t seem to remember.

“Duude.” He heard Curtis calling him, and he nodded, his perfectly styled curls moving with his head.

“Yeah?” He answered, but he didn’t bother turning around to look at his teammate. No, he couldn’t. Not when you had just entered the room with no one other than the captain of the Toronto Maple Leafs, Auston Matthews.

Luke didn’t know what he was feeling, but he knew it wasn’t right. He was sitting somewhere angry and frustrated as he watched the way your body seemed to float towards Auston’s. The dress you had chosen for that night would probably be in his thanksgiving speech, because he was, indeed, thankful for the opportunity to see you wearing something like that: short, white, almost transparent with a huge slit in the middle, that left little to the imagination.

He didn’t even know why he was noticing you in the first place, since he remembers how he was the one who fucked everything up between the two of you, but fuck. He can’t really help it.

The way you’re laughing at the shit Matthews’s saying, the way you blush slightly under the warm lighting whenever he touches your waist or lower back. The way Luke can tell everyone thinks how much the two of you look good together.

And it infuriates him.

But now— now, you have finally noticed him. You were scanning the room with your eyes when you made eye contact with him, dropping your smile in a millisecond. He can see the way you gulp and hold Auston’s hand a bit tighter.

Luke watches as you force yourself to draw your attention back to the conversation happening in front of you, but he feels accomplished when he notices that, once in a while, you will look at him, for nothing more than a second.

Still.

He finishes the rest of his beer, feeling the bitter taste of it fill up his mouth. He wants to scream at himself to let you go, to stop staring at you like a fucking creep, to not let his mind wander through dangerous, dangerous memories.

Yet, he does none of these things.

He just watches the way your nipples pierced the dress you were wearing, hard and there for everyone to see. He licks his lips, remembering how happy he was when you’d told him you weren’t much of a bra type of girl.

You say something to Matthews before kissing his cheek and excusing yourself, walking towards what Luke assumed to be the bathroom.

“Man,” he hears Curtis, again. “She’s not yours anymore.”

And? He wants to ask. “I know.” Is all he says.

Knowing that you aren’t his anymore doesn't stop him from getting up and going after you, leaving the beer bottle on the table sitting in the corner before walking down the expensive hallway until he’s standing at the door.

“Luke, what—” he hears you asking, but he doesn’t say anything. He just walks inside the bathroom with you and closes the door behind him, hungrily eyeing your body, as he had been doing for the past few minutes.

“Y/n,” is what he says, and you have to pretend that hearing him say your name for the first time in months doesn’t affect you. Because it shouldn’t. “I miss you.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Luke?” You hear yourself asking— you’ve fantasized about this scenario several times before and you’re still not sure of what you’re supposed to do. “You can’t just say things like that. I’m with Auston now and God,” you put your right hand on your forehead. “If anyone sees us here, together, then—”

“I can see that you’re with him,” he scoffs. “It’s all over your face. The way you look at him makes me sick.”

“I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do about that,” you say, crossing your arms in front of your chest, not missing the way his eyes linger around your boobs for longer than they should. “Luke.”

“Does he know you used to belong to me?”

His question takes you by surprise, and you bite your lips, suppressing a frustrated moan. “If you let me end things with you because you didn’t want to make our relationship public, then why would I tell people about it? It was your choice not to.”

He knew you were right. And that made him even more upset.

“Then he doesn’t know about the things we did,” he whispers, standing tall in front of you, making you realize once again that he’s much larger than you, much bigger, much stronger. “He doesn’t know about how loud I could make you scream, how wet your pussy would get whenever you saw me, how you loved when I threw you around like you were nothing but a toy.”

“Luke—” you sigh, but he shakes his head, while pressing his thumb against your bottom lip. His touch burned.

“How when we first started dating you’d cry because you were so worried that I wouldn’t fit,” he chuckles, like the memory itself is enough to make him laugh. “And how you cried even more when I made it fit, when I forced my cock inside that tight, little cunt of yours.”

“Luke, stop,” you mumble against his finger. “You… you shouldn’t be telling me this. We’re— we’re over.”

“No, Y/n, we aren’t,” he says, kissing your cheek, gently. “I miss it when you’d lay with me, body so tiny next to mine it makes me hard just thinking about it,” he presses his finger harder against you. “I miss it, Y/n.”

You sigh, closing your eyes.

“So, tell me, baby, are you with me?”

You shake your head.

“No,” you say, even if you don’t want to. “Not anymore.”

“Y/n, fuck. I loved you.” He reasons, and you open your eyes, just to frown at him.

“Your passion, or whatever you want to call it, isn’t enough,” you answer, stepping away from his touch. “You don’t have what I need.”

“Liar.”

“Maybe,” you whisper. “But that’s just how life is.”

“You’re not being honest with yourself, Y/n, you want me.” He argues, scrunching his curls in his hands.

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” You ask, raising your eyebrow before turning around and leaving the room.

Leaving Luke and your history with him behind.

if you want more… ! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

LUKE HUGHES MASTERLIST.

NHL MASTERLIST.

#lh43 #luke hughes #luke hughes x you #luke hughes fic #luke hughes smut #luke hughes fanfiction #luke hughes imagine #new jersey devils x you #new jersey devils x reader #new jersey devils fic #new jersey devils #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x y/n

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evermoreness · 16 hours ago

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wingman | james potter

pairing: james potter x reader!

summary: james definitely has a crush on you, but he won't admit it. so his best friend sirius steps up to be his wingman.

masterlist

If Sirius Black had one true passion in life—aside from pranks, Quidditch, and being generally insufferable—it was meddling. Specifically, meddling in James Potter’s disastrous love life.

The problem wasn’t that James lacked charm. No, James was overflowing with charm, much to the dismay of every professor at Hogwarts. The problem was that James refused to acknowledge that he had feelings for you—his best friend, his ultimate rival, his favorite person to annoy.

And, as Sirius often pointed out (loudly, in the middle of breakfast), you were just as bad.

Which is why, after months of watching you and James dance around each other with an infuriating amount of tension, Sirius decided enough was enough.

It was time for some intervention

Step number one

It started in Transfiguration.

You strolled into class, fully expecting to take your usual seat next to Lily, but before you could sit, a strong arm slung around your shoulders.

“Ah-ah,” Sirius drawled, spinning you around and gently shoving you into the seat next to James instead. “New seating chart, love. Professor's orders.”

You frowned. “Professor McGonagall never changes the seating chart.”

“She does now,” Sirius said, smirking before plopping down beside Lily, effectively blocking your escape route.

You turned to James, who was lounging in his chair, grinning like the cocky little git he was. “Look at that. You’re stuck with me.”

You groaned, turning to Sirius. "You look suspicious"

"When do i not?" Sirius said, grinning like he was planning something.

"Fair point." You said, before turning to James. “Merlin help me,”

James gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “How dare you? I am an absolute delight to sit next to.”

“You poke people with your quill and hum off-key when you’re bored,” you shot back.

“I serenade,” he corrected.

“You butcher perfectly good songs.”

James leaned in, his face just a little too close, and smirked. “Admit it. You’d miss me if I wasn’t here.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the way your heart did a stupid little flip. “Sure, Potter. I’d be devastated.”

“You could just admit you love spending time with me,” James offered.

You scoffed. “Or I could stab you with my quill.”

James leaned in, lowering his voice to a teasing whisper. “Kinky.”

McGonagall just ignored them all, she had learned a long time ago she couldn't keep up with the Marauders antics. So she just let them. It was best for her mental health. But she still could hear you and James bickering every time she turned to write something on the black board.

James, completely unbothered, leaned closer to you, elbow on the desk, chin resting on his hand. “Well, you heard the professor. We’re partners now. Best get used to staring at me all class.”

You rolled your eyes, flicking his forehead with your quill. “Merlin, you wish I stared at you.”

James grinned. “You’re staring at me right now.”

You huffed. “Because I’m contemplating how best to Transfigure you into a ferret.”

Sirius cackled from behind you. "Oh, young love" he said, making you and James glare at him.

"Don't you have a boyfriend to annoy or something?" James asked, rolling his eyes.

"Remus is recovering from the full moon, idiot" Sirius said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He was about to say something more but McGonagall glared at the three of them.

McGonagall sighed again. “I don’t get paid enough for this.”

At least, step one of Sirius' plan was definitely a success.

Step number two

The next part of Sirius’s plan required a little more... creativity.

Which is how you and James ended up in detention, standing outside McGonagall's office, glaring at a very pleased Sirius Black.

“Explain. Now,” you demanded.

Sirius shrugged. “Professor McGonagall may have received an anonymous tip that you two were planning to sneak into the kitchens after hours.”

“We weren’t,” you said flatly.

“Well, you should’ve been,” Sirius said, looking entirely unbothered. “Really, it’s your own fault for being so predictable.”

James groaned. “For Merlin’s sake, Padfoot.”

“Oh, don’t act so ungrateful,” Sirius scoffed, draping an arm around James’s shoulder. “I’m simply giving you both what you want. Quality time. Candlelit settings. Romance.”

“You’re sending us to detention,” you deadpanned.

“Exactly.” Sirius grinned. “Do you know how many legendary couples started with forced proximity? This is the perfect setup.”

James scoffed, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “You’re delusional.”

“And you are hopeless.” Sirius turned to you, wiggling his eyebrows.

You crossed your arms. “And what exactly do you gain from this?”

“An evening of uninterrupted flirting, obviously.”

James scoffed. “We don’t flirt.”

Sirius blinked. “Right. And I’m the Minister of Magic.”

Soon enough, Sirius was gone, and McGonagall assigned the two of you to polish the entire trophy room. Without magic. Which was, quite frankly, a crime against wizardkind.

“I think I’ve inhaled enough dust to choke a hippogriff,” you muttered, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn smudge.

James, sprawled dramatically on the floor, groaned. “This is actual torture.”

You snorted. “Oh, please. You’ve been lying there for twenty minutes. I’m doing all the work.”

James grinned lazily. “I’m providing emotional support.”

“Oh, how noble.”

“I try.”

You rolled your eyes and flicked a damp rag at him. He yelped as it smacked him in the face.

“Oi! That’s rude.”

“I’m so sorry, did I offend the Great James Potter?” you said, smirking.

James leaned on his elbow, smirking right back. “Oh, love, you offend me constantly.”

“And yet, you keep coming back.”

James’s smirk faltered for half a second—just long enough for you to notice.

His hazel eyes flickered over your face, something softer in them now. Something that made your heart do a completely unnecessary little flip.

Before you could overthink it, James groaned and rolled onto his back dramatically. “I cannot polish one more bloody trophy.”

“You’ve polished one,” you pointed out.

“Exactly!”

You snorted. “Oh, poor baby, suffering through a whole hour of detention.”

James gasped, clutching his chest. “You wound me.”

“Oh, shut up and hand me the polish.”

But James didn’t move. He was staring up at the ceiling, brows furrowed.

“Oi. Potter. Earth to James.”

James blinked and turned his head to look at you.

“Have you ever thought about it?” he asked suddenly.

You frowned. “Thought about what?”

He hesitated. Then smirked. “How gorgeous I am.”

You groaned. “Oh, for the love of Merlin—”

“I mean, really,” James continued, grinning now. “It must be exhausting for you, being constantly exposed to this level of handsomeness.”

“Exhausting, yes,” you said dryly. “Mostly because of your ego.”

James laughed, and it was so genuine, so warm, that you almost forgot why you were annoyed in the first place.

Almost.

By the time detention ended, you were both covered in dust, exhausted, and slightly delirious.

You both stumbled out of the trophy room, stretching like freed prisoners.

“Well, that was awful,” James said cheerfully.

You sighed dramatically. “If I never see another trophy again, it’ll be too soon.”

James turned to you, smirking. “You know, we should really thank Sirius for this.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you deadpanned. “Maybe hex him as a thank-you.”

James grinned. “You do have the best ideas.”

You smirked up at him. “I know.”

James’s smirk softened slightly. His hazel eyes flickered down to your lips—just for a second.

Your heart definitely did not stutter. Absolutely not.

Neither of you spoke for a moment.

Then James cleared his throat. “So.”

“So,” you echoed.

James shifted on his feet, then suddenly grinned. “Race you to the common room?”

You snorted. “Please. You’d lose.”

James gasped. “Oh, is that a challenge?”

You smirked. “You tell me.”

James took a step closer. “Winner gets bragging rights.”

You took a step closer. “Loser has to buy Butterbeer next Hogsmeade trip.”

James grinned. “Deal.”

He started running before even counting to three, and you really tried to get into his pace but he was much faster than you. James got in front of the painting that guarded the Gryffindor common room, breathless, you got there second, just by some seconds of different.

James grinned, looking far too smug. “I win.”

You gaped at him. “That’s cheating!”

“Strategic advantage, love.”

“Oh, you’re insufferable—”

James laughed, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward the common room. “Come on, loser. You owe me a Butterbeer.”

You groaned, but you were smiling. “You’re impossible, Potter.”

James squeezed your hand. “You love it.”

And, Merlin help you, maybe you did.

Step number— Intervention!

By the end of the week, you had reached your limit.

You slammed your hands down on the Gryffindor table, glaring at Sirius. “I know what you’re doing.”

Sirius, mid-bite of toast, blinked innocently. “Doing what?”

“Every time I turn around, James is right there. Transfiguration. Potions. Detention.”

Sirius smirked. “Weird how that keeps happening, huh?”

You jabbed a finger at him. “Admit it.”

Sirius leaned back lazily. “Admit what? That my best mate is tragically in love with you and needs a little push?”

James, who had just sat down, immediately choked on his pumpkin juice. “SIRIUS!”

You and James turned bright red at the same time.

“I—You—” You spluttered, words failing you for the first time in your entire life. “He is not—”

Sirius just grinned wider.

James, still coughing, thumped his chest and pointed an accusatory finger at Sirius. “Mate. What the hell.”

“Oh, please,” Sirius scoffed. “We all see it. You two are basically a couple already.”

Remus, sipping his tea across the table, nodded. “He’s not wrong.”

Sirius put an arm around his boyfriend. "Thank you, Moony, at least one person on this table actually supports me"

Remus gave him a look "I never said that"

Sirius gasped in mock horror "Hey! I told you all my plans to make those two," He pointed at you both "Start dating and you actually said it was a good idea"

Remus just swallowed a piece of bread "You have no actual proof i said that"

James buried his face in his hands. “Merlin, kill me now.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “We are not dating.”

Sirius waved a hand. “Yet.”

You and James simultaneously threw a piece of toast at him.

It bounced off his head. He didn’t even flinch.

Sirius just grinned. “Give it a week.”

Step number... five?

The Gryffindor common room was unusually peaceful that evening. No firework explosions, no magical pranks, no Sirius Black laughing maniacally while being chased by McGonagall. Just a cozy fire, the occasional page-turning of a textbook, and the low murmur of students finishing their homework.

It was exactly the kind of peace Sirius Black found unacceptable.

He leaned over to Remus, whispering conspiratorially, “It’s time.”

Remus, who had been this close to finishing his Transfiguration essay, sighed. “Time for what?”

Sirius grinned wickedly. “Operation: Get James Potter a Girlfriend.”

Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sirius, for the love of Merlin—”

But Sirius was already in motion, zeroing in on James and you, who were currently seated across from each other at the Gryffindor table, mid-banter as usual.

James leaned back in his chair, twirling his quill between his fingers. “You keep looking at me like that, love. Starting to think you fancy me.”

You scoffed, flipping a page in your textbook. “Oh, absolutely, James. Nothing gets my heart racing like watching you struggle with fourth-year level Charms.”

James gasped dramatically. “You wound me! I am excellent at Charms.”

You smirked. “Oh, of course. Remind me again, how many times did you accidentally set your own tie on fire last week?”

“Once,” James muttered. “And in my defense, the spell was successful. Just...with extra flair.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Hopeless.”

Sirius plopped himself down between you two, grinning like a madman. “Wow, the flirty tension in this room is suffocating.”

Both you and James immediately groaned in unison.

“Sirius—”

“Nope,” he cut you off, slamming a hand down on the table. “I refuse to sit idly by while you two idiots continue this will-they-won’t-they nonsense. So, I’ve decided to help.”

James narrowed his eyes. “Help how?”

Sirius smirked. “Oh, just making sure you two spend as much time together as possible.”

Before either of you could protest, he waved his wand.

Suddenly, the two of you lurched forward, an invisible force yanking you towards each other until your noses were barely an inch apart.

You blinked. James blinked.

“What. The. Hell.”

James tried to lean back, but something—no, Sirius—kept you stuck together.

“Black, if you don’t undo this spell right now, I swear to Merlin—” you started, your face rapidly heating.

Sirius just beamed. “Ah, young love.”

“Padfoot,” James hissed through gritted teeth. “If I hex you right now, will you undo it?”

Sirius shrugged. “Dunno. You could try, but you are currently nose-to-nose with your one true love, so any sudden movements might result in an accidental kiss.”

You and James immediately went rigid.

“You're so dead, Black.” you shouted.

Remus, watching from the sidelines, sighed deeply. “You do realize McGonagall is going to kill you for this.”

Sirius waved a hand dismissively. “Nah, this is romantic. I’ll probably get an award.”

James turned back to you, his lips twitching despite himself. “So… reckon we just stay like this forever? Seems like Sirius has finally found a way to actually make you stare at me all day.”

You groaned. “Unbelievable. I’d rather kiss a Dementor.”

“Ouch,” James said, dramatically clutching his heart. “That’s cruel. I’d at least make a handsome Dementor.”

You huffed, crossing your arms—which was a bad idea, because now your hands were even closer to James’s chest.

Sirius gasped. “Oh, Merlin! Are you about to hold hands? Is this a moment?”

“I will kill you,” James said.

Remus, who was now actively ignoring the situation, muttered, “I’ll alert the authorities.”

Lily, walking past with a book, glanced at the scene, sighed, and kept walking. “You two deserve this.”

James grinned at you. “C’mon, admit it. This is the best day of your life.”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider. “Hm. Ask me again when I’m not glued to your face.”

Sirius sighed dramatically. “Fine, fine. I’ll undo it. But only if you both admit you like each other.”

James and you both froze.

Silence.

You turned to James. James turned to you.

And then, at the exact same time, you both blurted out:

"Absolutely not.”

Sirius groaned. “Hopeless. Utterly hopeless.”

And with that, he flicked his wand, releasing the spell.

The moment you were free, you shoved James off of you, and he—completely unprepared—toppled off the bench and onto the floor with a very undignified yelp, making everyone laugh at him.

Step number 10? (Sirius has definitely lost counting)

It was pouring outside.

The Quidditch pitch was soaked, the thunder rumbled, and the storm showed no signs of letting up. You both had just gotten out of the game, and everything would’ve been fine, except you and James were currently locked in the Gryffindor locker room.

Courtesy of Sirius Black.

James banged on the door. “Pads, you absolute menace, open this door right now!”

Sirius’s laughter echoed from the other side. “Not until you both admit you’re in love with each other!”

You groaned. “You child!”

“Nope, just a genius. Have fun, lovebirds!”

And then—silence.

James sighed, running a hand through his soaked hair. “He’s never letting this go, is he?”

“Nope.”

You both stood there, dripping wet, silence stretching between you.

And then James said, “We could just… do it.”

You turned to him. “Do what?”

James shrugged. “Kiss. Just to get him off our backs.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So now you’re willing to waste your first kiss on me?”

James laughed softly. “I never said I didn’t want to kiss you.”

Oh.

The air between you shifted. His usual smirk was gone, replaced with something softer, something almost shy.

Your heart hammered. “Well… if we have to.”

James took a step closer. “Right. Just to get Sirius to shut up.”

Another step.

“Obviously.”

His hand brushed yours.

“No other reason.”

You swallowed. “None at all.”

And then he kissed you.

It was soft at first, tentative. But then you grabbed the front of his stupid Quidditch jersey, pulling him closer, and suddenly—it wasn’t just to get Sirius to shut up anymore.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and dizzy, James just grinned.

“So,” he said, “how mad would you be if I told you Sirius left five minutes ago?”

You blinked.

And then you shoved him.

“POTTER!”

James stumbled back, laughing as you shoved him again, harder this time. “You knew?” you accused, hands on your hips, still breathless from the kiss.

He grinned, looking far too pleased with himself. “Well, I suspected.”

“You absolute menace!”

James only laughed harder, dodging as you lunged for him. “Come on, love, don’t be mad—”

“Oh, don’t you ‘love’ me, Potter! You tricked me into—” You stopped mid-sentence, suddenly realizing what you were saying.

James smirked. “Into what?”

You scowled. “Into… into…”

His grin widened, and he leaned in. “Into kissing me?”

Your face burned. Damn him.

James stepped even closer, so close you could smell the rain still clinging to his skin. His voice was lower now, teasing but softer. “You did kiss me back, you know.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Only because you kissed me first.”

He nodded solemnly. “And you’re saying you hated it?”

You opened your mouth. Shut it. Opened it again. “That is not the point.”

James just laughed, and before you could shove him again, he caught your hands in his. His thumbs brushed over your knuckles, and suddenly, the air between you wasn’t just playful anymore.

You swallowed. “Potter—”

He leaned in again, close enough that your noses nearly brushed. “I think,” he murmured, “we might have to do that again. You know, just to be sure.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was pounding. “Oh, for research purposes?”

“Exactly.”

And then he kissed you again—this time slower, sweeter. No tricks, no games. Just you and him.

Outside, the storm raged on, but in that moment, all you could feel was warmth.

#harry potter #fanfic #marauders era #x reader #x yn #marauders #james potter x you #james potter x reader #james potter #sirius and remus #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar

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loving-family-poll · 3 days ago

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Ultimate Incest Poll - Final

Propaganda under the cut:

Liam/Noel:

The Gallagher brothers have a very intense relationship that doesn't make any sense to the outside viewer unless one considers the possibility of incest. For 30 years now they have been utterly unhinged about one another in the public eye. Noel has often made incest jokes; Liam once said on-stage once "we had sex last night" referring to him and Noel. Even people writing in actual books and magazines have picked up on the vibes (some stuff that has been printed about them fully feels like it was written by tumblr incestinas except it's like. actual fucking journalists). Also there was this one time in 1996 where they kissed each other with tongue in front of 40 thousand people.

They have been described as “in love with each other” by both themselves and third parties. the lyrics “you’re my lover, i’m your brother.” they kissed with tongue at loch lomond in 1996 and have also been photographed/videoed kissing on the mouth other times. liam regularly groped noel onstage. liam’s entire twitter is just propaganda too. liam talked about impregnating noel once. noel frequently talks about how physically attractive liam is. liam claims that he’s noel’s muse

their song guess god thinks im abel has the lyrics "i could be your lover" while comparing themselves to you guessed it abel and cain. and like. a thousand more instances of them being weird about each other. also noel REALLY wanted a sister and he mentioned it quite a few times and said well liam IS basically a sister or something like that. normal behaviour

Liam literally called himself Noel's good boy on twitter, and called him god a few times after reunion. Noel said he loves make women cry and the only thing that's better is make Liam cry so he can laugh and call him a woman. They literally kissed with tongue and loch lomand is not their only kiss they have two more photos of different kissing to, they literally used the japan kiss video for reunion video. YES THEY DID THAT TF. Noel said they are head over heels in love and said it's illegal in many countries. Also Noel said Liam is like his ex-wife a few times or shit like those cunts are fucking crazy

Other people have described them as more like boyfriend/girlfriend than brothers and said they’re in love. someone on twitter asked liam “if you’re john lennon, who is noel?” and liam said “yoko ono.” another time someone said on twitter “you defo rimmed noel when you were younger” and liam replied “you jealous?"

Deeply weird about each other getting married (them not attending each other's wedding which occurred month apart and then getting divorce around the same time and they stayed at the same hotel for months), intense infamously love-hate relationship and is everyone's favorite soap opera, noel saying "on stage i just wanted him..there's only two of us that will ever get this", prominent theme of shame and crime and impossible dream in noel gallagher works, the elusive meaning of wonderwall which noel insisted is not about anyone but there's good amount of evidence that it referenced back to their childhood and their shared bedroom, liam having mental breakdown several times on twitter about noel, liam's my brother is getting a divorce playlist to which he shared with his 3 millions twitter followers, incest-baiting on main ever since the reunion, brother and lover being interchangeable for noel when writing lyrics, noel (allegedly) lying to liam that his girlfriend cheated on him in order to sabotage their relationship before oasis took off, liam hating noel's latest (ex) wife (sarah), noel writing "the owner of the star on stage" after liam's autograph and so many more insane shit

"[Liam] thinks all the songs are about him. He even thinks Wonderwall is about him." –Noel Gallagher (1997)

"It's all about me it always was and is" –Liam Gallagher (2023)

Japan kiss (kiss is at the end) loch lomand kiss

PLUS they’re back together after 14 years of estrangement! The narrative!

Cain/Abel:

the og brotherssss. invented murder.

Brothers inexorably tied together… brothers alone in a field, no witnesses but god… jealousy violence guilt sin… you get it.

Blueprint for violent older sibling & younger sibling relationships. Our beloved Cain complex comes from this story and where would we be without it? These two are the huge inspirations for both incestuous and non incestuous poetry, especially between brothers. Nothing represents the self destructiveness of incest more than these guys. Also I know they frotted in those fields, Eve told me.

#tumblr polls #tournament polls #incest poll #gallaghercest #cain/abel #final #liam/noel gallagher

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bapeach · 3 days ago

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Boombastic

Just a short story while I try to get back into writing. Don't love it, but it's better than nothing 😁 Constructive criticism is always welcome. Find my masterlist here :)

Pairing(s): Nika Mühl x female!reader Word count: 1.3k+ Summary: You catch Nika watching TikTok edits of you.

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When you enrolled in UConn, your only plans were to play basketball and get a degree. You didn’t care about making friends or getting a girlfriend. You only really wanted to play ball, but you knew you needed to have a backup in case something happened and you could never play again. So a degree in communication it was.

It’s not like you struggled making friends, you just didn’t ever have your own little friend group. You hopped from group to group, always a friend to everyone, but never letting anyone get too close. Well, that was before you came to university. If you really thought you were going to be able to only be teammates with your basketball team, you thought wrong. Joining that team means joining a family. And thank God for that. You loved those girls to pieces and were happy to call every single one of them your best friends.

You were especially close to Nika, however. Which was a good thing, seeing as she was also your roommate. And maybe you also had a tiny crush on her, but no one needed to know that. Sure, you two playfully flirted with each other all the time, but that was all just a joke. To the Croatian, at least. You meant every single thing you said to her. Things like how she was the prettiest girl you’d ever seen, how her smile could light up the darkest rooms, and how if she were yours, you’d treat her right.

There are moments when you think she might like you back. The way she looks at you isn’t the way friends look at each other. Friends also don’t blush the way she does when you lean in close to mutter a compliment. But then you start overthinking it and make yourself believe that you’re just imagining things. Because there is no way that the goddess that is Nika Mühl will ever like you.

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You hum your favorite song to yourself as you walk through the hallways. You’d just gone out for some errands and were on the way back to your dorm. You wonder if Nika is already there or if she’s still with Paige. You hope she’s home, maybe then you two could finish the show you’d started a while ago. You quicken your step a little as you near your dorm. When you open the door, you take a step inside to see Nika already on the couch, her back towards you.

A grin appears on your face as you quietly put your stuff down on the table next to the door. You open your mouth to say something, but you know that wouldn’t do much. Nika is wearing those annoying headphones that you complain about at least once a day. They’re great for the person wearing them, the sound is clear, and outside sounds are completely muffled. They aren’t so great for the people around them, though. You can clearly hear everything the wearer is listening to, while they can’t hear you yell at them to turn it down.

You start taking off your shoes as you hear the song playing on Nika’s phone. You smirk a little as you recognize the music. Boombastic by Shaggy. The song has been all over your fyp all week, so you figure the brunette is scrolling on TikTok. Your face scrunches up in confusion when you’ve finally taken off both shoes. The song was playing on repeat. “I swear to God if she’s watching an edit of herself to that song,” you think to yourself as a mischievous grin grows on your face.

You walk over and pause behind her, watching her phone from over her shoulder. Your mouth drops open as you see yourself in the video. A smirk appears on your face as you watch Nika play the TikTok over and over again. You see that she’s already liked it and has it saved to one of her folders. You shoot forward, snatching the phone out of her hands as you quickly back up.

The brunette bolts up as she looks at you with wide eyes, her cheeks blazing red in embarrassment. “Y/N, give me back my phone!” She huffs. She tries to take it out of your hands, but you hold your arm away from her as you look at her cockily. “Damn, I look good,” you hum, pursing your lips.

“Y/N, please,” she begs, looking at the floor. You tap her profile as you check out in which folder she saved the video. “Oh. My. God… You have a folder with 102 edits saved of me?” You laugh in shock and amusement. The Croatian girl burns an even brighter red as she stops trying to steal the phone from you, having accepted defeat. She sits back down as she puts her face in her hands. “Shut uppp,” she whines.

You look away from the phone towards the brunette, your smile softening. “God, she’s adorable,” you think. Nika huffs as she hears you take a screenshot of the number and send it to yourself. She wishes the ground would open up and swallow her whole. Once you’re done, you throw the phone next to her, not looking as it bounces against her thigh.

You grab your own phone, saving the screenshot before opening your TikTok. After a few swipes, you put your phone back in your pocket as you look at Nika with a grin. Feeling her phone buzz, the brunette grabs it and unlocks it to check your message. She stares at the picture you sent for a few seconds. It was a screenshot of your own TikTok account, a folder with her name on it visible. The number “253” on display.

“You… you have 253 TikToks saved of me?” She says as she looks up at you, her eyes wide. “102 is a rookie number. I thought you liked me?” You tease as you cross your arms. She rolls her eyes as you walk over, a smirk forming on her face. “253 of me? People are gonna think you have a crush on me, Y/N/N,” she grins. You grab her hand and pull her up from the couch. Her cheeks flaming as you pull her against you. “Hmm, and so what if I do?” You say with a low voice as you grab her chin.

“I’m not sure I believe you,” she replies, looking up at you with doe eyes. “Is that so?” You mutter, leaning a little closer to her. “Mhm… Why don’t you show me how much you like me?” She mumbles back. She barely has time to finish her sentence as you pull her face towards your own. You kiss her hard and deep as you grip her a little tighter. When you’re out of breath, you back up a bit and smirk. “How was that for proof?”

She rolls her eyes at you, a grin on her face. You soften a bit as you look at her. You move your hand to cup her cheek as you rub your thumb across it. “I really like you, Niks,” you say, your voice barely louder than a whisper. You don’t care about the fact that you’re looking at her with vulnerable, desperate eyes. You needed her to know.

She grabs your face in her hands, pulling you close. You stare into her eyes, only being a few inches away from her. “Then why haven’t you asked me out yet?” She murmurs, her lips a small pout. You look at her in adoration and a hint of regret. “I’m sorry for being too scared to… Let me make it up to you? Dinner at 6 tomorrow?”

She grins at you, pulling you in for another kiss. “Deal.” You beam a wide smile at her before smirking. “So… Do you often watch TikToks of me on repeat?” You let out a deep laugh as Nika slaps your shoulder, pushing you away. You grab her wrists, pulling her back against you in a hug. “You’re a jerk,” she mutters against your chest. “Yeah, but you love me,” you reply, feeling her smile against your shirt. “Hmph,” she huffs, but squeezes you tighter.

You suppose those damn headphones aren’t so bad after all.

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