#while he's only looking at and focusing on her body

[thinemoonshine]

୨୧ 𝓹𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝓲𝐧 𝓭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬! ୨୧

—⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ in which the members carry—or snatch—(y/n) into their arms

enhypen ot7 x fem!enhypen 8th member contents: fluff, enha acting like a shoujo anime's male lead, flustered (y/n) and enha, inklings to romance(?), the trend 'a boy who's jacked and kind' used on sunghoon's part, riki is such a lover boy type: imagine

note: this work is based off of ૮꒰ྀིthis꒱ྀིა ask!

⋆˙𐙚 L.HEESEUNG 𐙚˙⋆

it’s just a little game of ‘guard the queen dodgeball.’ what can go wrong?

everything, apparently.

because now everyone’s shouting and screeching as they try to dodge the attacks from the offense team while simultaneously protecting their ‘queen.’

team A with heeseung, jake and riki, the guards for (y/n). and team B with jay, sunghoon and jungwon, the guards for sunoo.

it’s a fun game, truly. but everybody’s blood thirst for victory is borderline manic and it doesn’t help that whoever gets hit gets to play from outside the borders.

“sunghoon hyung, out! hyung out! out!” riki roars while laughing loudly, finger pointing at the mentioned figure before he claps like a seal when the older trudges out the line.

sunghoon clicks his tongue as a smirk plays on his face, fang peeking out slightly. “just you watch.”

and it continues until each team only has 2 members left for each.

heeseung and (y/n) vs jungwon and sunoo.

the latter shrieks when a ball with lightning speed passes by his hip just a centimeter away and he stumbles to his feet whilst escaping.

“sunoo hyung! you have to stand!” jungwon alerts as he tightly holds the older from in front, hands reaching back as he tries to pull him up only to push him down again—practically sitting on the poor lad—when a ball gets thrown their way.

jake howls with satisfaction at his throw as laughter erupts at seeing the chaos—that is, until queen sunoo’s knights retaliate.

it’s almost like a circus show. jay, jungwon and sunghoon always managing to get their hands on the soft ball and rapidly hurling it towards heeseung and (y/n).

the way the pair practically hops and skips make it look like the floor is lava and heeseung’s grip around the front of her shirt only tightens as he maneuvers her to safety.

maybe a little too tight.

because a particularly taut pull later, (y/n)’s plummeting to the floor harshly and she hisses at the impact.

“you okay?” heeseung’s quick to turn and ask, wide doe eyes searching her face and body for any serious injury but she only gasps.

“hee—ball!” she shouts and it all happens so fast because a blink later, she’s held up in heeseung’s secure, strong arms and pressed tight to his chest.

“EYYYY!!” the other members all sound, all ooh-ing and ahh-ing like they’re watching some cheesy k-drama moment (they are, sort of).

little do they know that (y/n) herself is too flustered to even care—the same goes for heeseung who’s hyper-focused on shielding her from the attacks.

that is, until he feels her arms snake around his neck and effectively monopolizing his attention. his head drops to look at her with that surprised, round doe-eyed look and the tips of his ears are quick to turn red before his whole face.

the feel of her hands around him is tingly for some reason and…warm. fuzzily warm that makes his head go all frizzy. he gulps.

POOF!

is that the sound of his heart explodi—

“WE WINN!!”

huh, guess not.

jungwon and sunoo cheer with hands in the air before being joined by sunghoon and jay—all now spinning in a circle.

“hyung! why’d you just stand still?” jake complains as he and riki walk up to him.

heeseung stutters, not knowing what to say but the tap he feels on his shoulder shuts him up quickly—head snapping back down to (y/n) who chuckles with a, “you can put me down now.”

he pauses briefly before slowly lowering her to which riki helps stabilize her.

dang, who knew his arms could feel so cold and empty?

⋆˙𐙚 P.JONGSEONG 𐙚˙⋆

“for this mission, you can’t let your chosen teammate touch the ground as you go through half of the obstacle course,” the mc informs and jay nods as he assumes a running stance at the starting line.

it’s a fun variety show in which they got invited due to their roles in a new drama. they weren’t big roles but considering they sang the OST for it, it seemed appropriate to let them join to promote for it too along with the other main actors who were invited.

“fighting! you can do this!!” one of the female celebrities shouts at her partner from the middle of the obstacle course.

her partner smiles brightly and gives a little flex with his bicep as he makes the ‘strong man’ pose.

meanwhile, jay and (y/n) are quietly cheering at one another through their eyes and grins—being younger than the other casts making them slightly abashed and polite.

“on your mark…GO!” the mc announces with a blow of his whistle and the men are quick to move.

jay’s fast on his feet. his hair pushed back reveals his majestic forehead as he runs while his face is a look of determination—dark brows furrowed and jaw clenched which defines his already sharp jaw—as he smoothly overcomes the obstacles.

sure, he slips every once in a while but he’s second against the rest.

“go, jay!! you’re killing it!!” (y/n) howls to her teammate with hands cupped around her mouth. she claps excitedly with a cheer when he arrives at the stable mid-checkpoint of the course where she and the other girls wait.

bending her knees, she’s ready to climb onto his back but gets the air knocked out of her lungs when he speedily yet so securely swoops her into his arms bridal style and starts rushing through the remaining half of the course.

piggyback was a good idea—if it wasn’t for the fact that he’d risk his place in the race by stopping for a while to let her climb. he won’t have it.

especially when he’s dead set on winning because the first place team gets the best hearty filling meal for break while the other gets mediocre basic dishes. he needs to make sure (y/n) gets fed.

“hold still,” he whispers lowly between his pants and (y/n) tightens her clasped hands behind his nape only to stiffen entirely when she feels jay’s soft push on the back of her head to bury her face in the crook of his neck while his other arm coils tighter around her—effectively hoisting her up higher against him. “i’ll get that first place for us.”

and like the man he is, he stays true to his words.

jay and (y/n) end up having the best meal they’ve ever had—or maybe it’s the pink glowy air around them that adds a little sweetness as they try to ignore the clear rapid thumping of their hearts as they dine together.

⋆˙𐙚 S.JAEYUN 𐙚˙⋆

“jake!” (y/n) practically screeches when he starts lunging at her and she topples into the inflatable bouncy house behind her with the culprit sandwiching her.

both of them are giggling as jake’s arms sneak to curl around her waist and lift her up slightly to help her sit up.

“sometimes i think layla possessed you or something,” (y/n) comments with an amused chuckle and he climbs over onto the bounce house to sit beside her—both their legs outstretched in front of them.

jake shakes his head, amused. his pretty pearly whites are exposed for everyone to see while the corners of his lips curl. “nah. i feel like i’m more playful than layla when it comes to tackling. she’s a good girl.”

“oh, to have someone smitten with me as you do with layla,” the other casually says as she sways her feet inward and outward to which jaeyun follows.

“yeah?” he sounds with a brow raised and he turns to her only to be attacked by her lethal face card when she faces him. his smile wavers as deep brown eyes flicker between hers—his heart jumping and breaths hitched—before he clears his throat. “i-i bet someone has already. our engenes are romantic people.”

(y/n) laughs lightly at this and drops her head back as she leans with her arms hoisting her up. a cheeky smile forms as she stares at the squishy ceiling above them. “you think we’ll be able to reach that?”

jake follows her gaze and his own lips mirror hers. “think we can if i help you up.”

“bet.”

and just like that, he goes on one knee to let the girl climb onto his shoulders before he wobbly stands up. she yelps and grapples down on him and his arms tighten around her legs before he starts jumping slightly.

gradually, he becomes bolder—hopping higher and higher.

“almost there!” (y/n) exclaims with her arm straightened up to try and touch the ceiling of the bounce house and jake chuckles at the excitement in her voice. emboldened, he too lifts his head up.

big mistake.

his balance is immediately thrown off and he tips backwards in which (y/n) responds with leaning forward to balance it--but fate decided otherwise.

a gasp is ripped from her throat when her body tips to the front, legs and hands unwillingly unlatched from jaeyun and she shuts her eyes to brace for a harsh bouncy landing on her face.

one that never comes because her knight in shining armor is quick to lunge forward with outsretched arms that instantly wrap around her figure like a slap bracelet--tugging her close to take the fall instead.

jake grunts when his body jumps against the air-filled ground harshly and his neck seems to snap contrasting the safely enveloped (y/n) who's sealed tight against his lean chest.

"you okay?" he croaks out a bit later and (y/n) nods vigorously before sitting on his legs to help him up. he chuckles when she starts bombarding him with questions of how he's feeling. always a worrywart and he takes matters into his own handss by cupping her face and bringing their foreheads together as he lowly yet softly assures. "i'm fine, (y/n). trust me."

he can't help the giggle that escapes him when she instantly zips her lips and neither can he resist the urge to let his gaze drop to them-letting them linger as he starts to hear his own heartbeat in his ears before abruptly pulling away when the voices of the other members near.

"(y/n)-ah~ jake~ we're gonna start shooting soon," heeseung calls as he approaches with some of the others tailing behind and jake almost feels disappointed when (y/n) stands up to head to them.

his doe eyes track her every movements as she climbs down the bounce house and his bottom lip juts out subconsciously.

'almost,' as if.

⋆˙𐙚 P.SUNGHOON 𐙚˙⋆

"a boy who's jacked and kind~" the song plays from (y/n)'s phone and sunghoon sneaks a peek when he joins her in the living room of the boys' dorm.

"what are you watching?" he asks and (y/n) looks up at him from he position of laying on her stomach on the couch.

"it's a trend. basically, it's just people doing what the lyrics are saying--showing how the boyfriend can lift them up onto their shoulder to portray that he's jacked. though sometimes, they use bestfriends and other people too," the girl explains briefly and sunghoon stands beside her to see the demonstration on her screen.

the gears in his brain spin as he observes and she glances at (y/n)'s intent expression. "wanna try doing it?"

"seriously?" she asks with eyes wide. the way they sparkle exposes how excited she is by the idea and sunghoon's lips pull to that amused signature smirk before he nods.

setting her phone on a counter, (y/n) then plays the sound before back walking towards hoon who’s already standing tall behind her while subtly flexing.

the moment the counter stops and the song starts, sunghoon’s small yet proud smirk appears as his hands latch onto (y/n)’s hips before lifting her up onto his shoulder without so much as a tremble.

(y/n)’s eyes widen and her mouth gasps wide open, forgetting to even lipsync as hoon smugly holds her onto his sharp yet wide shoulder while the other arm is busy folding to show off his obvious growing biceps.

a small chuckle escapes him with crescent eyes lifted up to her before he tightens his coil around her thighs to keep her steady. “see? i can do it.”

“that’s so cool, oh my gosh,” she exclaims vivaciously with eyes wide and jaw on the floor. “i knew you were strong, but i didn’t know you were this strong! wow! you’re like some kinda prince charming! those sessions at the gym must have…”

sunghoon’s nose practically grows taller and taller as he drowns himself in her stream of praises with ears a faint shade of red. his ebony eyes are practically sparkling with more and more stars with every flattery and he’s now convinced himself he can go about his whole day with her on his shoulder.

⋆˙𐙚 KIM SUNOO 𐙚˙⋆

“you should do it like this!” (y/n) insists and starts fixing sunoo’s thoroughly wet hair to part in the middle and crunching the ends—a reminiscent to lord farquad’s hairdo. an amused series of laughter and titters escape her at the finished product and sunoo’s eyes go round with confusion.

“why? what is it?” he repeats like a parrot with plump lips jutting to an ‘o’ and frazzled brows raised. receiving only intensifying giggles in response, his arm swings and flaps under the pool to splash her with water that makes her squeal.

she wipes her face before retaliating and sunoo shrieks before flipping his hair back and running his hands across his face.

“yah! you, you—!” he starts chasing after her and she runs off as fast as she can—if only the water isn’t against her—but still ends up being trapped between the lean, pale arms of sunoo.

she kicks under the water, writhes as fists knock against his shoulders and his shouts of protest increase. yet, the laughter and giggles that erupted from both show that it’s far from aggravation.

“hey! stop that!” sunoo chuckles with eyes that scintillate but at her cheeky little “i don’t want to~” he decided to take things into his own hands—sliding his arms down to her hips and lifting her above the water.

(y/n) nearly topples over at the suddenness of his action and her hands take hold of his slender yet firm shoulders. she looks down at the proudly grinning idol whose eyes are hidden by his wet blonde bangs. “kim sunoo!”

she shakes her head and gently swipes his hair away—instantly greeted by a pair of pretty foxy eyes glinting with mischief.

“since when were you this strong?” she asks with brows raised, legs dangling underneath the water and sunoo tilts his head with a faux face of obliviousness.

“i’ve always been this strong, though,” he chirps and (y/n) pinches his smooth, dewy cheek to which he responds with a ‘pained’ hiss.

“ah! that hurts~” he whines with a little pout and bats his siren eyes. the girl shoots a deadpan look but noo’s not one to back away and instead presses his chin against her stomach as he looks up at her—hands that are resting on her hips gently tapping against the bones.

his ministrations call for butterflies bursting from their cocoons in her chest—distracting her from noticing how sunoo’s pupils shake and adam’s apple bob as he’s too hyperaware of their proximity.

her hands that rest on his shoulders are just a hair width’s away from his bare collar—fingers just barely brushing against the sides of his fair neck and he shivers whenever she grazes him.

she sighs before letting out an amused scoff. “fine, you big baby. you’re lucky you’re pretty.”

sunoo’s shaken out of his reverie and emits a small hum of contentment before slowly sinking her back into the pool—not without a little twirl—and combing his now damp hair back. “mint choco ice cream?”

“mint choco ice cream.”

“yayy!”

⋆˙𐙚 YANG JUNGWON 𐙚˙⋆

jungwon glances at the time at the top of his screen before at the door. his legs bounce impatiently as he sits on their couch in the living room.

(y/n)’s photoshoot ended earlier and she said she would stop by their dorm.

she should be close by.

just a few more minutes now.

a few more…

jungwon’s round eyes blink curiously at their dorm entrance and then at the time on his phone again then back at the door.

she’s probably on her way down the corridor.

a few more minutes now…

no, seconds! just a few seconds….?

beep, beep, beep—!

he shoots up the moment he hears her pressing the pin and when the door swings open, he’s swift towards it.

“i’m here!” (y/n) announces her arrival before abruptly levitating when jungwon hoists her up by the waist and spinning.

“(y/n)!!” he cheers like they’ve been separated for decades and she locks her arms around his head in panic which he finds greatly amusing if his loud, hearty “HAHAHA” laughter isn’t clear enough.

“it’s been so long since you visited!” won claims after finishing another dizzying twirl but he still keeps her tight in his hold, just a tad bit lower than before.

the girl blinks rapidly, trying to refocus her vision and getting the furniture and jungwon’s smiley face aligned with the forces of gravity. “i visited 3 days ago! and we met in between days!”

“so?” he sounds with a shrug and she’s tempted to knock her skull against his if she wasn’t already so woozy.

“yeah, yeah, now put me down,” (y/n) says, unamused and tired but jungwon misses the signs. instead, his loopy grin grows and upturned eyes turn into sharper crescents.

a little snicker escapes when he shakes his head, brown fluffy hair bouncing—carefree and happy—until her fingers curl around the locks and suddenly he’s moved back and forth like a joystick.

“ah! ah ah! i’ll put you down! i will!” jungwon relents with exaggerated yelps and safely returns her to stand on her own two feet. that doesn’t stop him from continuously acting like a needy cat however—meowing here and there, tailing her around, pawing at her for attention and practically rolling over her whenever she finds a moment to sit.

“jungwon!” (y/n) finally bursts and he flinches—wide eyes staring at her as he straightens like an alarmed cat—before she cups his face with a sharp yet harmless smack! and smooshing his cheeks.

taking in a deep breath, she smiles sweetly with teeth gritted underneath. “i’m really tired and i want to rest just for a bit, hm? just a wee bit then we can spend time together.”

jungwon blinks—once, twice. the sound of her soft, persuasive tone ringing in his ears and the gentle, warm caresses of her thumbs against his now rosy cheeks fogging his brain and senses. he can hear his own heartbeat in his ears.

he exhales deeply, slowly, through his nose before holding her wrists in his heated palms and sliding his hands down her arms to her elbows. “okay. i’ll help you and then i’ll leave you alone. promise.”

“help? how?”

and once again, she’s floating above the ground with him carrying her in his arms whilst giggling.

“you can sleep in my room! the members won’t be able to bother you then!”

and you know what, (y/n)’s not gonna reject that offer. sighing in defeat, she rests her head against his shoulder and hooks her arms around his neck.

boba eyes cast down onto her, grin growing when he sees her nuzzling into him and he has to bite his lip from letting it stretch pass his cheeks.

⋆˙𐙚 NISHIMURA RIKI 𐙚˙⋆

riki watches (y/n) get comfy against his sheets—a soft smile appearing on his plush lips at the contrast of her and the rest of his room. his interior is mostly of dark tones aside from his light bed covers so to see her, in all her colourful soft clothing is intriguing.

it’s one of the reasons he likes to let her kill her time here whenever she visits their dorm: to add a little colour to his room. definitely not to monopolize her and spend all their time together. of course, not.

but anyways.

“i bet i can lift you up,” (y/n) brings up randomly and riki raises a brow before scoffing.

“you? lift me up?” the skepticism and mockery are clear in his voice and she furrows even before turning over onto her stomach to look up at him who‘s sitting leaned against the headboard of the bed.

“yeah, duh,” she scoffs back. “why are you acting like it’s such an impossible thing?”

ni-ki tilts his head while a smug smirk tugs on his lips. “because it is. i’m like two heads taller than you.”

“exactly. and yet i still won against you in the long jump distance game,” she haughtily replies with her nose high and the other lets out a chuckle at that.

he crosses his arms and leans forward, over his criss-crossed legs to get closer to her. “that was different. i’m heavier than you.”

“but your legs are longer so there should’ve been more power to carry you, no?”

her witty remark leave the other furrowing before he shakes his head with a scoff and she sits up.

“i’m just saying there are upsides and downsides to everything. me carrying you isn’t completely out of this world,” (y/n) states confidently and riki stares at her in between the strands of his bangs before standing up.

he opens his arms wide at the sides and bobs his chin up at her. “try it then.”

fearlessly, (y/n) rises to her feet and stands toe-to-toe with him before wrapping her own significantly shorter arms around his torso and before she can even do anything, riki’s already sputtering like a broken engine and doubling over.

the girl is frozen, offended and yet understanding as she puts her fists on her hips—watching as her teammate continues to laugh his lungs out to the point he’s curled onto the floor.

“sorry, sorry,” he gasps out breathlessly and clears his throat before spreading his arms again once straight up. “okay, go ahead.”

“little jerk,” (y/n) mutters under her breath when she comes close and riki has to hold himself back from imploding whether by cuteness aggression, comedic relief or both at once.

taking a deep inhale, (y/n) tightens her hold around riki’s torso before bending down at the knees slightly and hauling him up.

“oh!” ni-ki sounds with shock when he feels himself lifting off the ground…for a good 3 seconds and then he gets his footing back. he blinks his widened eyes rapidly, still fairly surprised that she managed to even carry him seeing as how he thought she’d barely get him to budge. “wah, you actually did it.”

“told you i can,” (y/n) proudly agrees and lets her arms fall to her side and riki already misses having them around him.

so he concocts a plan.

“bet i can do it for longer,” the latter declares and (y/n) tilts her head up at him with a look of judgement and arms crossed.

“well, obviously. what’s your point?” she shoots back and ki grins, pearly whites glinting almost animatedly as playful slyness swirls in his sharp eyes.

bending down slightly to meet the top of her head, he runs his gaze across her face before meeting her questioning stare. “with one arm.”

now that, is debatable.

if it was sunghoon, maybe even jungwon or jay, she’ll believe it but riki? as tall as he is, he isn’t the strongest—at least when it comes to carrying things.

“let’s see then,” she challenges and a second later she’s scooped from the floor by riki with a single arm that’s tight around her thighs just below her butt—but its shaky. her arms quickly find refuge around his head and ni-ki laughs into her limb that’s covering his face before he intentionally lets them timber into his bed.

the girl’s eyes widen as she panics, afraid she’ll crush the other but he’s agile—letting her go just before impact to instead hug her around the waist and head before pulling her in.

they crash safely with his lean arm pillowing her and she exhales a short held breath.

“what was that?? made all that talk and you could barely hold me up for 5 seconds!” (y/n) argues with a smack to his chest and he reacts with a dramatic grunt of pain.

“sorry, sorry!” he ‘apologizes’ and suddenly offers her his switch as a peace treaty. “here. you can hog it for as long as you want in exchange.”

her attention shifts as instant as her mood—thanking him with eyes glittering because she can now check up on her games that’s been rotting waiting for her for who knows how long—and is completely unaware of how this is exactly his scheme since the beginning.

she gets to check her island and riki gets to very subtly indulge in this very subtle cuddle session between them.

a win-win in his book.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི₊ ⊹ masterlist ᝰ.ᐟ✮⋆˙

𝜗𝜚 hi, it’s romi here!! thank you so much for reading to the end!! if you enjoyed it, don’t forget to leave a heart and reblog— they give me some motivation, ya know? but please do not spam like!! X♡X♡, romi ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

copyright © 2024 thinemoonshine all rights reserved

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Azriel x reader

Word count: +3400

Warnings: none (?)

Summary: When love becomes a painful burden and you can't stand it anymore, you decide to turn it into hate, avoiding its source at any cost. However, Azriel has enough and seeks you out.

When I wrote it in my head (late at night of course), it was perfect. But I forgot the exact wording😮‍💨 Now I'm not so sure about this. Also I bit changed the intended end to cut down the word count

Anyway, I hope you will enjoy it

Despite my resolve to not to look in that direction, my eyes darted to the dance floor again and again, pulled by power stronger than my will. Pain sharp like dagger carved deep into my heart as I watched Azriel dancing with some female whom he just met at bar. Their bodies seemed to be glued together as their hips swayed in the rhythm of the music, even their foreheads were touching. Female's arms wrapped around his strong shoulders and neck, sliding down and back up his biceps and chest only to once again return back to their start point, holding him close. Pulling him closer. He didn't seem to mind it though as his own hands travelled all over her body, squeezing soft flesh wrapped in tight mini-dress at times.

I felt bile rising in my throat and turned back to my drink, wishing it was something stronger than just mojito—something that would burn not only my throat, but also my heart with all the traitorous feelings. I wished I had never made that mistake and fallen in love with him. Things would be much easier.

We used to be friends, really close friends. However, ever since I realized I felt something more for him, my feelings kept deepening with every passing day to the point it physically hurt to even look at him. He didn't seem to feel the same way though, not noticing anything, and I was too scared of refusal and never confessed. After just few months I was so agonized that I couldn't even step out of my room without bursting into tears and that's when I decided to rather hate him than to suffer like that.

I started ignoring him, avoiding him at any cost, twisting everything into anger. I went so far as not even answering him when he directly spoke to me. It still hurt, but it was more manageable kind of pain than what I felt before. This was how I had lived for the last two years, working hard to build the wall of the hatred around my heart brick after brick, yet I had a long journey ahead of me.

I threw the straw on the table and knocked back half of my drink, trying to think about anything except of what was happening to my left. I was so focused that I noticed Cassian only when he tapped his glass to mine.

"What are we drinking to?"

"To fucked up life."

Cassian's guttural laughter was so loud that it even overbeat the pulsing bass of the music.

"To fucked up life then," he toasted and got his drink down in one gulp. He was in his element, beaming with excitement.

Rita's was full of all kinds of faeries as usual, the dance floor pulsed with life, bodies swaying, alcohol flowing. After the warm-up drinks, our group fell apart — some were at bar, some were dancing and some disappeared to who-knows-where. Cassian was the first one to mingle between the dancers. It was almost midnight, yet this was the very first time he stopped for a while. Well, stopped.. His body was somehow managing to keep moving along the music even while he was sitting.

He reached over the table, caressing my cheek, his expression softened. "You need to learn how to let go, doll."

"It's easier said than done," I sighed and straightened up to get away from his reach. I used to be quite touch starved person, enjoying every contact with persons dear to me, but lately I could hardly stand anyone in my close proximity.

His eyes narrowed at me for a second, but he said nothing and drumming fingers on the table turned to the dance floor. He bit on his bottom lip. Devilish smile spread on his face and he turned back to me.

"Then I'll help you."

"Help me with what exactly?" I frowned, already having bad feeling.

"To let go. Come!" He raised a brow, jerking his head toward that maze of bodies. "Come," he repeated, offering me his big hand when I didn't react.

Out of the corner of my eye, I gazed at the full dance floor. "No, never," I grimaced. "I'd rather die than to do that."

"Come! I promise you will have fun."

"I can't dance." All my friends knew that, including Cassian. I wasn't willing to dance even where nobody could see. That kind of activity simply wasn't up to my liking nor ability.

"I'll teach you."

"No."

"I'm not accepting no as an answer this time," he grinned, rounded the table and gripped both of my hands, pulling me with him. He was too strong. I followed him involuntarily, squeezing in between dancing bodies. He took me to the back where weren't so many faeries and we didn't have to jostle with others. Only then he let go of my hands. I immediately crossed them on my chest, feeling awkward.

"Relax," he pulled me closer, his hands on the small of my back. I pulled my lips into thin line, frowning. I didn't like this at all. "Just feel. Let the music lead you."

"The music leads me back to the table," I grunted to which he laughed.

"Just bit move that ass of yours. Like this." He gripped my hips, pulling on and pushing them to demonstrate the movement he wanted me to do.

"Geez, you are so stiff," he was laughing his ass off. The small amount of alcohol I drank finally kicked in. There was nothing funny on this, yet I couldn't help myself and giggled.

"That's it," he praised me when I did as he instructed. "Just like that."

When I got used to the motion, he let go of my hips and took a step back to have a better view. "And now add legs." He demonstrated several simple moves and I tried to mirror them. I felt like idiot.

"You are doing great. Don't stop." He again stepped closer and took me by waist. We danced together for a while, Cassian's mouth never closing — showering me with praise, stupid jokes and stories — and I really had fun just as he'd promised.

"That hardly can be called dance. Let me show you how to do it," a deep voice spoke somewhere behind me and shiver ran down my spine. My heart flipped at that sound and smile froze on my face. I knew that voice too well.

"As if you could dance any better," Cassian snorted, but he started retreating. I desperately grabbed fabric of sleeves on his forearms, wordlessly pleading with him to stay.

"Just have fun, doll," he shrugged and turned away, immediately finding another dance partner. I stared after him in disbelief, my back still to the newcomer. I felt him move, slowly circling me and I swallowed hard. I turned to the opposite side, determined to head back to our table, suddenly too thirsty.

Scarred hand grabbed my elbow, yanking me back and I was met with his broad chest. I didn't dare to look up.

"Not so fast, Y/N," Azriel mumbled and I wondered how it was possible that I heard him so clearly over the loud music.

"I don't dance," I retorted, pulling away. I didn't get far though, his strong arms keeping me at the place.

"I just saw you with Cassian. Just one dance. I'm not asking for too much."

No matter how desperately I searched for good reason to decline, any reason honestly, I found none. "Fine," I grunted at last.

For a while we danced and I moved as Cassian showed me, but I felt so uncomfortable.

"Try it like this," Azriel said, his hands moving to my hips.

"Don't touch me," I barked at him, my mind flooded with imagines of him touching that female not so long ago. "I don't even want to think about where your hands were before."

His body stiffened as if I slapped him and he fell out of rhythm. "I can assure you that I washed my hands properly."

He sounded hurt and I felt pang of pain in my chest. I realized the ambiguity of my own words. And because this was Azriel, he probably thought I meant his work which was quite sensitive topic for him. He didn't torture people because he enjoyed it, but because he had to—to protect this court, to protect his family.

Ignore it! I ordered myself, clenching teeth.

It took him a moment to recover. Just as we began dancing again, he keeping hands at his sides, the song ended, immediately followed by much slower one. A lot of faeries around left the dance floor. I took it as my call and followed the suit.

"Wait!" Azriel grabbed both of my hands. "We haven't even danced yet."

"But-," I stuttered.

"One song. Please."

It was that damn word please. He hardly ever used that word. He was always polite and perfect gentleman and everything, but it seemed he didn't have this word in his vocabulary. I could count on fingers of one hand how many times I heard him to say it in almost two centuries we knew each other.

"Just one song then."

"Yeah, just one," he agreed. His hands reached for my waist. "Can I?"

I just nodded, still feeling bad for unintentionally hurting him like that. He hesitated.

"You should put your hands here," he guided them to his shoulders, but I immediately let them fall to his biceps. I didn't want to hold on to him like that bitch. I inhaled sharply, surprised by the sudden strong wave of jealousy.

Hate. You aren't jealous. You hate him, I had to remind myself.

"That's also fine," he sighed, snapping me out of my spiralling thoughts. "Now you need to come a bit closer."

He gently pulled me to him. I made sure there was a wall of air between us, already sensing where he was heading. Unfortunately, I was so occupied by keeping him as far from me as possible that I didn't notice drunken faerie passing by. She dangerously swayed, unstable on her own feet, and shoved me from behind. Clumsy idiot as I was, I lost balance and once again ended up pressed to Azriel's chest. He was fast, his arms immediately wrapped around me, not letting me step away. Now our bodies were touching.. everywhere — hard parts pressing into soft ones.

I felt heat climbing up my neck, my ears already burning.

"Dance partners usually look each other in the eye," he muttered, amused. He had some guts to tease me.

My head snapped up in rush of disbelief and rage, my eyes met with honeyed hazel ones. Those warm orbs completely captivated me, imprisoned me in their depths and I couldn't look away anymore. All my thoughts vanished at once.

It was long since I properly looked at him, let alone so close up. He hadn't changed much. If anything, he was even more handsome than before.

Idiot! Stop thinking such shit! He isn't handsome. He's disgusting. Not so long ago he was touching some random female and now he's here, touching you with the same hands. He's promiscuous pig. Absolutely repulsive.

My chest heaved as I was fighting with myself, heart against mind. My heart pounded so hard it had an echo.

Wait! What a nonsense! Heart can't have echo, can it?

Just then I realized it wasn't some echo but a beat of another heart. It was Azriel's heart that hammered just as fast as mine and so strongly that I felt it through our connected bodies. And if I felt his, then he had to feel mine as well. At that thought panic started to creep up on me.

Azriel leaned down, so slowly. His warm breath fanned my face, our noses touching.

The song ended replaced by another and dance floor filled again. Azriel seemed to be too occupied and didn't even notice it, but I did. I shoved him away with all my strength.

He didn't expect it and wavered, his grip on me loosened. I jerked from his arms, recoiling. He reached for me.

"Y/N, wait.. Just one more-"

"No more dancing," I said, my voice so cold that I startled even myself. "You wanted one song and you got one. I'm done here."

I didn't wait for his reaction and showed him my back. I marched over to our table, emptied my glass in one go and even one shot that was left there. The alcohol burnt its way down my throat and I grimaced. I grabbed my things and without looking back or leaving a message to others, I left.

I stomped down the snowy road, hardly noticing the slippery ice under soles of my boots. Only once I got all the way down to the Sidra, I paused on one of the bridges, letting out an angry sigh. I drew the thick cloak closer, feeling the chill of winter night, and looked up at sky full of stars, my warm breath creating quickly disappearing puffs of steam. I was on verge of tears, angry, hurt and confused. What was that even about?

"Y/N, are you all right?"

Not again. I wanted to flee away, but his big hand blocked my way.

"Stop already running away from me!"

"Leave me alone!"

In the attempt to get away, I lost my footing on slippery stones. I would fall down into deadly cold waters if it wasn't for his strong arms that kept me upright.

"Please." There was that word again, this time even more desperate than the one before. "I can't do this anymore. Please, tell me what I've done that it made you this mad. I will apologise as many times as you wish. I'm willing to do anything to gain your forgiveness."

"I thought that when I leave you be, your anger will ease and you will eventually tell me what happened, but it's already so long and it's getting worse and worse," he continued when I just stood there, gazing down into dark waters of Sidra.

How was I supposed to tell him that he did nothing? That I was just stupidly in love with him and that I couldn't deal with my own feelings anymore? I couldn't possibly tell him that. So I was silent while cold tears rolled down my cheeks.

"I'm so desperate that I even tried to provoke you to no avail. I don't know what else to do to mend our relationship back to what it used to be. And I miss you.. so much. So please, tell me what happened, so I never again repeat the same mistakes."

He stepped closer, hugging me from behind. "Please." When he breathed out near my ear, shiver ran down my spine and my eyes closed. All strength, all fight left me and my shoulders slumped down. Azriel gently turned me around, so now I faced him. His warm hands cupped my wet and cold cheeks, his thumbs wiping tears away.

"Speak to me otherwise I-.." His voice was low, dangerously low.

"You what?" I whispered the words into silent night, needing to hear the answer.

"I.." Suddenly his face was so close that it was the only thing I saw, his breath hot on my face. My head, heart, lungs, whole my body shut down. I was just standing there, gaping, hypnotized by his sad eyes.

He waited until I inhaled and then his lips sealed over mine, his eyes holding my gaze. The kiss was slow, careful, hesitant.

I was stunned, my eyes the size of full moon above us. As the new sensation settled in, a firework boomed in my chest and I.. moaned.

He made a sound back in his throat that vibrated through whole his chest. Shutting his eyes closed, he unleashed, deepening the kiss. His lips, hard like stone and so soft at the same time, hungrily danced over mine, his tongue gently pushed into my mouth, looting and exploring.

Azriel tasted like an old whiskey Rhys poured me once from his precious collection. The rich spiced and woody taste was mixed with something sweet and delicious and I moaned again as I realised I tasted strawberries on his lips. My knees buckled and I clasped hands around his neck, my fingers tangling with strands of silky dark hair. He swallowed my moan and holding me upright, he pulled me even closer — as if it was possible — his fingers digging into my flesh.

His enormous wings wrapped around me, cutting off the rest of the world, wall of shadows protecting us from any prying eyes.

We kissed and kissed until my lungs began to burn with need for air. Yet I held on as long as I could, wanting this moment to last forever and only when I felt like I was going to faint, I slightly pushed against his shoulders. Reluctantly, his mouth released mine, but stayed close enough that I felt its every move. Both of us staggered weakly and he chuckled.

"Gods," he muttered under the breath, heaving heavily. "You taste better than I've imagined. I wanted to do this for so long."

I was still too dazed to think straight. I just knew that I was happy, my heart hammering into the ribcage so wildly as if it was trying to break through it. His lips travelled all over my face, leaving dozens of small pecks behind. As he calmed down, he hid his face in the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply, still holding me in an iron grip.

"Why are you angry with me?" His voice was muffled by fur of my cloak. Under my cheek pressed to his shoulder, I felt his pulse, strong and fast, just like mine. I inhaled his rich scent of early morning mist in the snowy mountains.

"I'm not angry, not really." My face burned with shame. I sounded pathetic even to myself, somehow defeated. My traitorous heart wanted to believe that this was real and that it would last, while my mind was screaming that it was only a short-lived dream.

He was silent for a while, most likely putting together pieces of a puzzle. Maybe it was my salvation that he was a spymaster with a brilliant mind. I didn't have to sink to the very bottom to voice aloud just how lame and stupid I was, saving me from the most shameful moments.

"Never - do you hear me? Never do that again. There's no need for such..." I thought it impossible yet his grip grew even firmer. He sighed heavily, pushing words through clenched teeth. "-ve you."

He muttered something, but I heard only the last part of it. What did he say? No matter what I filled in, nothing made a sense.

"What?" I whimpered, hardly holding my tears back.

Azriel inhaled deeply. "-ve you."

"I.. don't understand."

He straightened up, looking into my eyes, his face deep shade of crimson.

"I said, I love you." His voice was firm, but his wings around us trembled slightly, giving out just how nervous he was.

My eyes widened in disbelief. I certainly misheard. "Eh?"

"As you heard," he looked away shyly, his hands slowly falling down, releasing me. "I started to feel it shortly after we met, but it took me too long to recognize the feeling for what it is. I was full of myself, I should have noticed your pain much sooner. I'm so sorry, Y/N."

His words tore down the dam and the tears began freely flowing down my cheeks in streams. Years of the pain and suffering for nothing.

"You are really the worst. I hate you," I sobbed.

Azriel stiffened and then chuckled when I leaned in, hiding face on his chest. "Am I? You owe me chocolate for at least last two years. And that is not all. I believe you owe me one more thing."

"What do you mean?"

He licked his lips and biting on the bottom one, he slowly pulled me into another embrace. "When someone-.. No. When I confessed to you, you were supposed to answer something like 'I love you, too', don't you think?"

I hesitantly wrapped my arms around his waist and still sobbing retorted, "as if I could say such thing so easily."

His smile only grew. "Then I have to coax it out of you," he cooed and captured my lips in another sweet kiss and another and he kept kissing me until my heart healed, mending all the wounds of the past years.

[pretty-sparkle-bomb]

HAYY.. uhm... I like your post and i was wondering if you can make a bakugou x reader, where his girlfriend is just PERFECT, and it got to the point where in class bakugou would just stare at his girl secretly, he is OBSESSED. Soo in dorms bakugou is a bit clingy and just kisses her in bed while she's trying to watch vids on her phone and she's like.. babeeee... and he's like shut up and let me kiss you......🥺💀

"Shut Up and Let Me Kiss You"

Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki x Fem!Reader Genre: Fluff, Slight Crack

Katsuki Bakugo had a reputation to be extremely loud and always pissed off.

But what people didn’t know was that beneath all that boom boom murder king energy, he was absolutely, 100%, pathetically obsessed with his girlfriend.

And it was getting bad.

It started off as stolen glances in class, which he thought he was slick with. (you wasn't slick bout it dawg)

He’d catch himself watching the way you twirled your pen, the way you bit your lip when you were focused, the way your eyelashes fluttered when you blinked.

And then it got worse.

Now, he wasn’t even subtle. His chin rested in his palm, red eyes locked onto you, completely zoning out while Kaminari waved a hand in front of his face.

"Bro," Kaminari whispered, snickering. "You're down bad."

"Piss off, pikachu." Katsuki muttered, still staring at you.

Even Aizawa noticed. "Bakugo, if you’re going to keep staring, at least pretend you’re paying attention."

The entire class turned to look at him. He nearly combusted on the spot.

And now here you were, later that night, lying comfortably in his bed, in his dorm room, way past curfew scrolling through your phone in his dorm. Katsuki had his arms wrapped around your waist, his face buried in your shoulder, warmth radiating from his body like a human furnace.

You didn’t mind the clinginess. In fact, you found it adorable how your big scary boyfriend turned into a lovesick puppy in private.

But right now? He was being needy. "Katsu, babe, I’m trying to watch this—"

"Shut up and let me kiss you."

You barely had time to process his words before he was pressing kisses along your jaw, trailing down to your neck.

You tried to focus on your phone, you really did. But his lips were warm, and his hands were sneaking under your hoodie, gripping your waist.

"Katsu—"

Another kiss, this time on your cheek.

"Baby—"

One on your nose.

"Babe—"

Finally, he kissed your lips, hands tightening around you. The phone slipped from your fingers as you melted into him, sighing against his mouth.

When he pulled away, his carmine eyes were soft but filled with a quiet possessiveness. "You done being annoying now?"

You pouted, flicking his forehead. "You’re the annoying one."

Katsuki only smirked, pulling you closer. "Damn right I am. Now shut up and go to sleep."

You huffed, but as he tucked his face into your neck, arms caging you in like you’d disappear if he let go, you knew you weren’t going anywhere.

Not that you wanted to.

[leaawrites]

The way I feel is oh so new to me

Liam Gallagher x fem!reader

Summary: when Liam takes on a dare from his friends, he doesn't believe of finding himself making the biggest mistake in his life.

Warnings: Liam being a bit stupid, some of this is really unhinged, angst, crying, making out, suggestive, fluff

Wordcount: 2.7k

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Masterlist

It was another full night at the pub as Liam and the rest of the band settled down in their usual booth, Noel with them. He’d been with them at practice, offering tips, advice, agreements to which They’d have to settle if he was to join the band. Control was what the most important to him. If he was in the band, he wanted to be more than part of it. Noel wanted it to be his band, and the other’s weren’t against it. They needed a ‘leader’ someone who knew what he was doing, guiding them. He was solely the only one willing to lead.

And then it hit him, for the first time. Everybody around him was talking, caught in conversations about everything: The band, music, some bird they found fit. Everybody was indulging in socializing, but nobody was talking to him. And she sat so far away.

A group surrounding her, Guinness in her hands while the other’s drank what he assumed was what she drank the first night too. They were all talking, but nobody was talking to her directly. Not the way he did. Not the way he would want to. She was part of the conversation, but she wasn’t in the conversation.

“Ya know, you may've said that you don’t fancy her, but then also don’t look at her like that,” Noel commented from beside him, observing his brother’s focused gaze and where it was drawn to - who it was drawn to.

“Fuck off,” was all that came back as an answer, though his eyes were still focused on her.

“What’re you so afraid of?” Noel kept on budging him, quietly enjoying seeing him in such distress over a girl.

“Nothin,” Liam answered, finally looking at him. “I’m scared of nothin', what’s your problem, mate?”

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed, earning a furious look from Liam and curious ones from all the others at the table.

“You are fucking insufferable.” Shaking his head before standing up, Liam walked over to the bar, ordering another pint.

It was full, bodies were pressed together, hands reaching to grasp another drink from the bartender. Liam squished himself between them, creating a space where he knew no one and nobody knew him, telling the bartender something he didn’t even understand himself through all the other chatter.

Though he seemed to get it, sliding him a new pint over the counter in under a minute.

Taking it with a nod of his head, Liam went back to his table. Not anticipating the conversation he’d have with Noel as soon as he’d sit back down. Nevertheless, he had no one else to engage with tonight. At least no one that wouldn’t want to chatter with Noel too.

“Liam!” A voice called out from another table, stopping him in his tracks and making him turn.

Searching for the origin his eyes caught a hand waving out to him, a drunk smile on her lips. One of her friends, he noted whilst walking over to their table. His eyes never leaving her hunched over figure. She wouldn’t even look at him now.

His smile faded for a second, watching her so distant - more than when he didn’t even know her, at least then she still looked at him - before his grin reappeared as soon as two arms flung around his neck, pulling him down. Drunk giggles falling into his ear drums.

“How’s it going?” he asked, stepping back a bit. His eyes flitting over to her every other second, trying to catch even the slightest movement of her head towards him. Though there was nothing, just the anxious tapping of her fingers against the glass.

“Good, very good,” the other girl answered, leaning forward while she laughed. “That new guy that’s sitting with you” - just when he thought he escaped him, he was brought up again - “who is he? He’s cute.”

“That’s me brother, Noel,” Liam answered, sighing in frustration but trying to keep his voice steady. “You wouldn’t like him, he’s a cunt.”

“He’s a hot cunt though,” she answered in a whispery voice. “Would you mind making us familiar before I get familiar with his body?”

Liam scrunched his face up in disgust at the pure thought that someone wanted to get intimate with Noel. Not understanding what anybody could see in that annoying twat.

“He’s not really looking for something,” he started answering, receiving a groan from the girl and an arm thrown around his shoulder that made him go quiet.

“We’re going to Noel’s, wanna come? He’s got some idea for a song, wanted to play it for us. Since we’re a band now,” Bonehead told him, his eyes flickering over the group of girls. “Maybe you wanna come too?” he asked them all.

The four girls looked at each other, all agreeing to one answer. Yes.

Taking Liam with him, Bonehead and him went back towards the exit, waiting by the door for the others to walk after them.

Over the heads of the other guests, he could see Y/n shaking her friend’s arm off her body, telling her something she couldn’t make out. Though he had a pretty good guess when they all walked towards them, excited smiles on their faces, and she stayed put. Nursing her drink, not looking at them.

“What’s up with her?” Liam caught one of the girls by the wrist before they could all flee outside.

“Don’t know, said she didn’t feel like coming. But that’s typical, she’s never actually up for some spontaneous fun,” she shrugged it off as normal before walking past him outside.

“Where you going, mate?” Bonehead called out after him as Liam went back inside, stalking towards her table. Noel held him back from going after Liam, telling him he’d know where they were and that he’d get there on his own.

Taking in a deep breath before he reached her, Liam leaned on his forearms closer to her in order to not having to scream over the music and talking. Making her jump slightly as his voice was directed towards her. So close.

“Look, I know you hate me and I deserve it, but I’m not gonna let you sulk here all alone, alright? Either you’re gonna come with me to Noel’s bedsit and enjoy yourself for a little bit, forgetting all about me, or I’m gonna walk you home,” he proposed. “It’s your choice.”

“Thank you, but I’m declining both.” Still not looking at him, she answered. Her voice steady but he could notice the hints of fear slipping through certain syllables. “I’m fine on my own, you don’t need to worry about me.”

“This or that, you have the choice. But I’m not leaving you here alone to end like some drunk bastard who can’t even remember the address of his own house.”

“I don’t need your advice, Liam. I don’t want anything from you, so fuck off and go after your friends. They’re probably already wondering where you are.” Going back to looking down at her hands, she hoped for him walk away, but he didn’t. Liam stayed leaning towards her. Trying to not looked faced by her bitter tone.

“Well, they can keep wonderin'.” He leaned forward a bit more, trying to take her hand but she pulled it away faster than he could blink. Like she rehearsed this all before, aware of what he’d be trying to do. “Look, just ignore me. I deserve it. But you don’t deserve sitting in a shitty pub because of me. Just come with me, have fun without glancing my way and enjoy the time with your friends. You’ll walk home with them and I’ll be nothing more than a guy you know from school, alright?”

A guy from school? Was he fucking serious? How could she just ignore him after all that, not even glance his way when her heart was craving to see his eyes directed towards her once more. Focused on her solely. It’d ruin her even further.

Reluctantly she stood up, taking the last bit of her beer down her throat and walking ahead of Liam out of the pub. Ignoring the small smile she knew was on his face now that he convinced her.

Walking side by side, both their hands stuffed into the pockets of their jackets, the time they’d spent together was silent. Neither daring to speak a word in case it’d make the other turn around and walk away.

Standing in front of the door of Noel’s bedsit, laughter was heard through the walls already. They tried to keep it down, but it was obvious that they were failing horribly.

Turning towards her, Liam started talking for the first time in ten minutes. “I know I’ve been shit to you, but can we please forget all that and act normal in there?”

“I’m not here for you, Liam. Neither am I here to play some invisible ghost, alright? I’m not gonna forget ‘all that’ and I’m not gonna forgive you. If you annoy me, I’ll be open about it and I won’t hold back,” she answered, hand hovering over the door handle. “You’ve got yourself into this situation, live with the consequences of your actions.”

Walking inside, she left him behind. Greeting the others with a kind smile, explaining that Liam convinced her to come. The others thanked him, making him nod. Noel being the only one that saw the desperate look in his brother’s eyes, the realization creeping up on him that this was the end now. There was no ship to sail home safely now, the wreck was already reaching the ground of the ocean.

“You good?” Noel asked, sitting down on his bed and tuning his guitar a bit. Looking up at Liam, his gaze was once more focused on the girl, talking with her friends and looking like a whole different person than who he’d been standing in front of the door with mere minutes ago.

“All good,” he answered, slumping down on the couch.

Everyone else found a seating place to listen to Noel play his song. Looking at him expectantly. Waiting for the first taste of ‘Oasis’.

“So, this one is called ‘Live Forever’, though I’ll probably change the name another three times.”

Everyone laughed at his joke, a small smile creeping up on his own face, loosening the tension that built up in his shoulder. This was the first time he ever played something that was his own in front of other people. Glad that it were people he knew, people he trusted.

Playing the last few chords, Noel looked up at the small crowd that had huddled together. In awe at his words. Stars in their eyes, even Liam looked impressed.

He had to give it to his brother, he was a fucking great writer.

“Wow,” Y/n breathed out, leading the others to give a round of applause.

“That was really great, mate,” Bonehead said, standing up and patting Noel’s shoulder.

“Awesome,” Guigsy corrected him.

Slowly, one by one, everyone stood up and said their praise. A small blush creeping up on Noel’s neck at the amount of appreciation for his art.

Afterwards, they all fell into a rhythm of conversation. Small groups forming across the room.

A bit further into the night, Noel caught her body trying to slip out of the room.

“Where are you going?” he called out to her, making her freeze in her spot.

“I really need to get home,” she answered, rocking on her feet.

“All alone at this hour? Could end bad,” Noel said, sending a look towards Liam who only looked at him confused.

“I’m gonna be fine,” she said, growing impatient.

“You sure no one should walk you home?”

“It’s just down the street, nothing far away.”

Rolling his eyes at his brother’s obliviousness, he kicked Liam’s leg before continuing, “Liam’s been bored out of his mind anyway, he’ll walk you.”

Turning around, Noel went back to conversing with the others. Ignoring both of the young adults shocked faces at his suggestion. Still, Liam took his jacket and put it on before slipping out with her. Not objecting.

“You said, this or that, remember? Not both,” she confronted him as they stood outside the door, listening to it falling shut.

“Well, I lied. Your fault for believing me,” Liam shrugged, lighting a cigarette.

Rolling her eyes, she began walking down the street, not looking back at the brunet, not waiting for his steps to follow her. Still they did, rapidly. Quickly catching up to her. The smoke floating around the space around them as he breathed out.

“You know,” she said, stopping her feet from walking. Turning to him, arms crossed over her chest. “Who do you think you are for just acting like nothing happened? Why do you think I’d forgive you for what you’ve done? Are you really that stupid? That spoiled with admiration? Everyone just listens and forgives you, no matter what you’ve done.”

“Right,” Liam laughed dryly, stomping out the cigarette under his feet. “I have it so easy.”

“You do,” she was basically yelling at this point. Anger pooling up inside of her like lava in a volcano. “What else do you want?”

“I don’t know, alright?” He answered in the same tone, his voice the same loudness as hers. “I don’t know how I’m feeling right now, I’ve never felt like this before. I just know, that whatever I’ve said to you that day was the worst thing I’ve ever done.”

Rubbing his hand over his eyes, he searched for his next words. “I was scared, alright?”

“Liam Gallagher was afraid?” she asked humorous. “What would someone like you be afraid of?”

“Feelings?” he proposed as an answer, making the sarcastic smile on her face fall from her lips. The ends of her lips being pulled to the ground, a frown appearing on her face. “I like you, alright? I do and I was scared of that feeling at first, but seeing you mad at me is by far worse than anything else. I never want to make you feel like that again.”

With a huff she turned around again, continuing her way down the street. Ignoring his words. Ignoring everything he just confessed.

Throwing his arms in exhaustion at her behavior, he stood still for a moment. Watching her figure appear and disappear between the street lights, before ultimately walking after her when her silhouette got to little for his liking.

He didn’t catch her, didn’t get to talk to her again when he reached her house, though he noticed the little space between the door and and frame.

It was open. She left the door open.

Looking to his left and right before walking towards her house, Liam took slow, cautious steps towards the door. Pushing it open gently, he waited for a sound to appear. Footsteps or yelling or even just the sound of the telly in the living room, though all he was greeted with was silence.

Taking a step inside, he could hear the floorboards creak under his weight. Leaving the door behind his back, he didn’t close it yet, wanting to be prepared n case he had to run.

With a sudden force, Liam was pushed against the door, a click sound following. He could feel her hands tucking at the collar of his shirt, pulling him down towards her. Lips were shoved on his, angry, hungry kisses falling between them. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he felt her chest against his, her heart beating against his ribcage. Forcefully trying to enter his body once more.

Quiet, sorrowful sobs escaped her lips between kisses. Tears streamed down her face, down her eyes and on their locked lips. The salty taste feeling like fire on his tongue, burning every atom of happiness that appeared the moment she kissed him.

He tried to push her back, getting her to look at him and explain everything so he could stop worrying, though all he received was her pulling him even closer and small whispers falling from her lips in the second they separated to catch their breaths.

“You idiot,” she mumbled. “You stupid idiot.”

“Why didn’t you just say something.”

“I really thought I was nothing to you-

“When you were everything to me.”

“You are everything to me,” he answered, finally getting her to look at him. “More than what I ever thought was possible.”

“I just got scared that you’d notice I’m not half as interesting as everyone always makes me out to be,” he mumbled.

“I don’t care if you’re interesting, I just want you to love me.”

“I do, I love you.”

[feralgodmothers]

I want to make a post focusing on my man Thomas Hutter, because even as someone who enjoys Ellen and Orlok’s dynamic (and I do, I REALLY do. Give me that pervy-girl gothic romantic deliciousness)

I feel like a lot of the takeaway I’ve seen from people on Thomas’ character doesn’t quite do him justice, and I wanted to share my views and try to rectify that a little bit.

The main criticism I’ve seen against him was when Thomas told Ellen “Don’t speak of this”, after she revealed her concerns and troubling nightmares to him. People try to say that he didn’t want to listen to her, and that he was shutting her down. A key nuance here though, is that Thomas didn’t just say “Don’t speak of this”, he said “Don’t speak of this in public”, i.e. - ‘Speak of this only in private’, i.e.- ‘Speak of this only to me, because I will try to understand you, even if no one else will’.

Because back in those days, no one else would. If Ellen spoke of her true feelings and of the experiences she was going through, people in society would want to have her committed. They might even insist quite strongly (i.e. - forcibly have her checked into a madhouse), because they would have shouted to the rooftops that she was a danger to herself and to everyone else. For Thomas to say “Don’t speak of this in public”, that was actually a protection for her. Because the less-than-stellar “medical” treatment she was receiving in Friedrich’s home? That was NOTHING compared to the treatment she would have gotten in a mental institution back then. You have to understand that with as much criticism as Friedrich gets (as is fitting), it can’t be underestimated just how much he was the NORM of that time period. In fact - your average Victorian person might have viewed him as “too generous” in his “tolerance” of Ellen, because they probably would have thrown her out sooner if they had been in his shoes.

The Victorians may not have been good at quarantining themselves when it came to physical diseases, but boy oh boy - were they good at it when it came to what they considered social diseases.

I think a lot of people either forget, or are just simply unaware of how much the landscape surrounding mental health has changed in recent history. Even within my own lifetime, things have taken a major shift in that area. So for me, to see Thomas get snubbed by a certain cluster of the audience just because he doesn’t react exactly the same way we would today, I think is a bit unfair. Because to be perfectly honest - I think he was ahead of his time when it comes to his compassion for Ellen. I think most men in his position back then actually would have shut her down if she tried to speak about the things she did, not even allowing her to finish expressing herself. And I think that most men, even after enduring the same horrors she did - would still view her with a critical eye, similar to the way of her father. Expectations for women were extremely narrow, uptight, and rigid - with little to no pause for understanding anything even remotely out of the ordinary. So for Thomas to be willing to hear Ellen out (in private), not turn her away in disgust and fear when he finds out what she’s been entangled with, the fact that he can still look her in the eye and stand his ground, determined with his whole body and soul to love and support her even as he’s faced with the shocking provocations she spits at him while under demon influence? I think he’s nothing short of amazing.

But anyway, going back to the beginning of the film - another criticism that Thomas gets is usually just part two of the criticism of him ‘shutting Ellen down’, namely - going off to do business against her wishes. But here’s the thing about the Victorian period: Wealth, status, and reputation were EVERYTHING. And that may sound extremely shallow to us now, but the consequences of not seeking and trying to hold onto these things during that time period were anything but. Thomas, by trying to protect Ellen’s image regarding her mental state, was protecting her reputation. Because just like in any time period, community was very important, but in that time - it was also crucial to your survival. If people got the faintest whiff of a bad reputation, you could potentially become outcast and completely ruined in the blink of an eye. If you were seen as crazy, or were simply married to someone who was seen as crazy - people would turn their back on you, no one would want to do business with you, and it wouldn’t be long before you end up scraping for your basic needs like a rat in a sewer. Which, of course, is why Thomas was so keen on having a good job that paid well. Trying to escape and/or avoid poverty back then really meant something. It wasn’t as simple as ‘Oh, being poor sucks’ - but the living conditions for those in poverty during this time were truly bleak, and it formed its own circle of hell. So personally, I feel that the twofold criticism Thomas has been getting from the audience are actually both things he was doing because of his genuine desire to look after Ellen.

Nowadays, wanting a good job that pays really well and buys you ‘the finer things’ is seen as something superficial, but in the Victorian era - it went so much deeper than that. The lines between social ranks were very distinct and harsh. If you failed to achieve a certain amount of wealth and hold on to your reputation, it was all too easy to lose your status and fall straight to the bottom of the totem pole, where your options for work and “livelihood” were very limited and dangerous. Because just as mental health awareness wasn’t really a thing back then, neither were proper safety standards for the lower working class. Thomas’ drive to make money for himself and for his family had nothing to do with his ego - it had everything to do with just providing Ellen a decent life. And when I say “decent”, I don’t mean “cushy” - I mean simply “tolerable and pleasant”. It was difficult to climb up the social ladder, but just one wrong move and it was very easy to find yourself plummeting to the bottom.

In conclusion, I think Thomas was an excellent husband, and I think he deserves a lot more credit.

[ashrayus]

MORE FIC RECOMMENDATIONS DUDE???

DUDE so sorry i kept u waiting for a while XDD here they aree make sure to give them some love <3

also here's part 1 and part 2 of my fic recs as well :p

one of many dreams by sunlitlemonade

On the headstone is a boy.

absolute poetry that sun cooked up based on my drawing?? ToT read it right neowww!!!! <33

Big Brother Big Brother by bloggerspam

“Damian, this is…Robin.” Mother falters over the name, a rare occasion. She looks unsure, which makes him scrutinize the teen harder, “They have just about finished their…training.” Robin looks towards Mother, reacting to the name by getting up and sloping over. They seem to toddle, as if unused to their own limbs, before stopping next to Damian. Robin crouches, staring at Damian with vacant eyes, searching, too big hands reaching over. One gently prods at his neck, where the bruises are no doubt now surfacing. The other cradles his still assuredly small hands, turning them this way and that to inspect the cracked up nails. Robin grunts, scooping Damian up into his arms despite his protests. The teen is strong, holding him tightly and looking at Mother with some kind of expression that causes her to heave a heavy sigh. “Let us get you cleaned up, Habibi. It seems that you will be seeing more of Robin in the future.” Or: I explore the brotherly relationship between Damian and Jason, tracing all the way back to their days at the LoA. Damian POV, Mute+Pre-pit!Jason.

cantt believe this beautiful fic was inspired by my art!! absolutely wonderful jason&damian and talia right here!!!!

Sickening Succession by Geeves

The stars can be so blinding When you get tired of fighting You know the one you can look to ----- Two scenes where they can't help but push themselves too hard. Two different moments in time and in life where they question if they're loved. Two similar situations that reflect each other like mirrors as their bodies buckle under the weight they're holding. Two brothers being there for the other.

very sick dick and robin jason (and a little bit bruce) lovee this sm i love the way geeves writes them always :)

door, opening by cowboysorceror

It’s barely audible, but he knows what he heard. A short, four-note whistle, chirping down – E, C#, then jumping up to A, F#, a little trill on the finish. He waits a moment, head turned slightly towards the dim shapes of storage containers between him and the ramp, eyes straining against the blackness. Long, stretching seconds. There it is again. His gloved hand, prickling with cold, closes into a fist. It’s a wood thrush. A small North American songbird that doesn’t sing at night, doesn’t live in the city. He knows what it means. It means hold, steady, not yet. It means wait for me, I’m behind you.

I only read the first chapter so far but mindd blown with the writing,,love love loved it. i think its batfam but mostly focusing on dick and jason

No Complaints by couldyoublameme

“Hood?” There’s a dead body on the floor. The boy’s throat is bared open, too many slashes to justify it as impersonal. He has Tim's face, mouth parted in a silently deafening scream, eyes blue and scared and unseeing. Jason squeezes his eyes shut, lets out a breath, and looks away. It’s not real, he repeats to himself. It’s Fear Toxin. It's Crane. It’s something that could’ve happened but didn’t. It's not real, it’s not real, it’s not real. -- Jason gets hit with fear toxin. His older brother is there, for better or for worse.

same writer!! really really good, mind the tags

Miscommunications and Misnomers by JouskaAndVellichor

Buzzing. He shouldn’t be out here, with the buzzing in his veins. He’d not even wanted to go out tonight, couldn’t trust himself to keep his temper on a leash and not hurt someone who didn’t need to be. Fuck Two-Face, for getting his hands on the Man-Bat serum some-fucking-how and deciding to break out and use it tonight. Jason's choices catch up to him, as his family do their best while kept in the dark.

jason and the lazarus healingg!!! loved this, but mind the tags

Stick the Landing by pinstripedJackalope

Roy and Jason are in Belle Reve for a mission when things go fantastically sideways. It's pretty hard to catch a bat off guard, but hey, there's nothing a little appendicitis can't ruin ;)

had me going crazyyy such great jason&roy andd some alfred sprinkled in the end suchhh a good read!!

between a rock and a high place by LadyHaleth

"Let him go!" Nightwing snarls through the com, voice raw and strained. Jason laughs. The modulator of his helmet crackles, and the sound of his laughter echoes cold and cruel. "Are you sure you want me to do that?" During an unplanned and unsupervised encounter with the Red Hood, Tim takes an (also unplanned) dive off the side of a building. As Tim's life hangs by a thread, Red Hood taunts Batman and Nightwing, threatening to drop him. But does he really mean it? Because for someone threatening to let go, Jason's grip is awfully tight.

i wrote down "Tim is here and jason is being an ass XD" to this i guess its pretty accurate. and dick&jason as well :')

Covers by stealthdisaster

Prompt 17: Only One Bed

little then&now fic with dick and jason with suchh great fluff to melt u :')

carry your heart by Aelig

"Dick carefully looks over at Jason, as his concentrated face as the hero confronts the villain on the screen, as his food halfway to his mouth but already forgotten. He looks terribly young, like this - all his thirteen years of life and a relaxed posture he’s still not used to have. Dick kind of wants to ruffle his hair or hugs him casually, like he does with the Titans; but he and Jason still aren’t close enough for that, he thinks. They just start hanging out together, outside of some messages by phone and video calls, and that without counting the two-something patrol they did together. But Dick is already sure of one thing - he really, really likes Jason. He’s a cute kid, full of curiosity and bright intelligence, sharp words and amazed eyes. Dick decided since the beginning that Jason will be his little brother, but it’s more say than done. But now - now, Dick thinks it will be easy to love Jason and see him as his family. He likes the idea even more, too, now that he learns to know Jason." OR: Dick, Jason, and two movie nights at two different point of time.

fluff!!!! safe and warm <3

There You Are by calamityin

Jason Todd is not an idiot and he makes good choices. Most of the time. But occasionally he doesn't and he has to rely on others to get him out of things. This would be manageable if he could just remember to let people help him. And remember they need to know he needs help first.

this one is so,, :(( mind the tags

Fail Safe by Goldmonger

“All good?” asked Jason, who was bouncing in front of him, eagerly watching Clark scrutinise his own body. He looked spooky, all bathed in red light, but Clark had been in photography darkrooms before. This was hardly any different. “All good,” Clark said, smiling. “Just… new.” “Do you feel all weak?” Clark laughed uneasily. “Do you?”

adorable robin jason and clark!!

and lastly guest appearence from wally but such a nice fic <3

déjà vu by Muddell

For a second, it’s déjà vu. The sight of the small, dark-haired, colorful blur that flips through the air. Then, Wally sees the differences. The murderous glare on the kid's face. The variations in his costume, how his hair sits. The knee-jerk expectation of Dick Grayson is replaced by Dick Grayson’s brother. Wally is staring at Damian Wayne. Who just crawled—dressed as Robin, with his hands bound behind his back, blood streaming from a cut on his forehead—free of a van.

[bunnyinvanilla]

hey my lovely, you’ve been feeding us lately and I have another request for you, john picking reader up from college and seeing some silly frat boy try and pick her up, hugeee pda to scare off any college boys

ughhhh oh gosh i neeeeed this sb every new request from you becomes my fav one but this one is such a guilty pleasure im in love with this scenario ૮꒰ ྀི⸝⸝⸝>_< ྀི⸝⸝⸝꒱ა big buff scary daddy that scares college boys away oh my gosh im blushinggg

🐰| sugar daddy!price x sugar baby fem!reader, laaarge age gap, john is in his 40s & reader is 21, pda!! pda!!

you looked at the text from sugar daddy!john saying he was coming to pick you up and he’d be there in a few minutes, heavens forbid his pretty little girl took the bus when she had a personal driver ! ૮(˶˃ᆺ˂˶)

you’d already said farewell to your girl friends, and were waiting all dolled up and cutely down the large college’s outdoor staircase, bag pack cutely stuffed up on your shoulder, your eyes flicked to the road as you anticipated john’s arrival, until someone sidled over, next to you.

”hey sweet face, you waiting for someone?”

you turned towards him and blinked, unimpressed by his words, your sweet features narrowing into a confused expression — you didnt know him, but you recognized the stance, the backwards hat and that easy grin that pattered every frat boy’s face.

“do you need a ride? can take you anywhere you need to go, baby girl, my car’s right there”

he tilted his head towards the college parking lot and you smiled politely, but your brows were frowned, and you mentally cringed a little bit — gosh, how could girls your age find boys his age attractive?

“no thank you, im actually waiting for someone,” you replied kindly, not having it in you to be straightforwardly blunt, “thank you though, I-“

“but you’re here waiting all alone, feel bad gorgeous,” he flashed you a grin, and you only shook your head, finding him almost entertaining — they all had the same look, the same behavior that exuded the desire to impress, thinking any girl would automatically like them.

“come on, just call them and tell them you’re being picked up,” his attempts, while harmless, aren't quite hitting the mark, he clearly cant read a girl’s body language, and you almost offered to teach him how to really act with a lady if he wanted to impress one,

“my daddy’s almost here, sorry” you squeezed your shoulders cutely together, hoping he’d get the idea and catch on your disinterest, but he was undeterred, didn’t seem bothered the slightest,

“well, then tell your father I’ll get you home safe and sound,” his voice trailed off, eyes slowly turning up to stare at something behind you, but you didn’t have time to turn,

you felt an arm wrapping around your lower back, and a large, warm hand tugged you by the hip, drawing you back against a hard, solid chest — the strong scent of tobacco and whiskey tickled your memory, and you looked upwards, finding John, standing right beside you, pressing you against him.

“hey, doll” he squeezed your hip in a silent greeting, eyes solely focused on the guy who’d been speaking to you — there was no menace behind them, only a serious, intimidating gaze that would’ve had anyone back down “m’ here, ready to go?” you felt your whole body turn into flames, cheeks completely red and bright, a rush of shyness making your heartbeat increase — you were in public, outdoors, and no one knew about your relationship.

you opened your mouth to say something, but he only pulled you closer to him, turning you towards him to face him, and lowered his head, crashing his mouth against yours to plant a heavy, demanding kiss on your lips — his kiss was rough, steady, and even though you were the physical one, always eager to display love and affection physically, even in public, you were completely surprised by his action, taken aback.

when he pulled back, he straightened his back, subtly changing his posture — broad shoulders, squared and straight, head held high, arrogantly, exuding unwavering, quiet confidence.

he looked so scary, all buff, muscular and bulk, with his huge, tall body and thick, dark, graying beard — he looked like the most attractive dilf you’d ever see around, a mountain bear that screamed adulthood in the most authoritative way.

oh gosh, and he’d just kissed you in front of that boy, nonchalantly, like he absolutely did not mind about scaring him off.

“aight, give me that,” he gently took your backpack from your shoulder, throwing it over his, all flowery and with tiny keychains jingling at the motion. “let’s go sweetheart,”

you, standing with your heart beating fast, only turned towards that guy — poor him, he looked scared, shoulders low and grin gone, the sight of john must’ve reminded him what real adults looked like.

“uhm, bye,” you waved at him, giving him an apologetic smile, and tucked your arm around john’s bicep, walking next to him towards his car. his car — that vintage, old fashioned looking car, some students watched from afar as he opened the passenger door for you, letting you sit down before strolling confidently around the car and getting into the driver side.

you sat there, like a little, shy, blushing, hands tucked on your lap, playing with the sleeves of your shirt, “can we put music on, sir?”

“im your personal driver, bunny, do as you please”

you bit down a little smile that formed on you lips, still shy and timid, but turned towards him and leaned closer, planting a soft, loud kiss on his mustache, like you always did

“thank you, daddy”

“you should thank me I didn’t scare that kid off with my rifle, doll, I put men in jail, can’t end up in one”

[chem1cali]

EVERYTHING IN MY MIND

return to masterlist

bsf!theodore nott x fem!reader

synopsis: when she feels alone, sometimes all she needs is her best friend

warnings: hurt/comfort, depression, anxiety with a hint of panic attacks (a fluffy ending though i promise!)

word count: 1k

Your eyes were locked on the ceiling, gaze broken only by your slow blinks every minute or so. Time seemed to ignore you, leaving you in a perpetual limbo while the rest of the world carried on around you. Your dorm mates had tried to rouse you, but it was like they were speaking at you from the other end of a tunnel. You could see their concerned expressions, and the way their fingers brushed hair from your forehead, but it felt like it was happening to someone other than you.

Eventually, they left.

You couldn't blame them, really. If you'd had the ability to muster even a hint of emotion, you might have felt ashamed, or embarrassed. But you weren't.

You were just… there. Existing, kind of. Going through all the motions a human body should, just with none of the soul. Feeling air expand your lungs, and your heart thump in your chest as your body performed its necessary tasks to keep you alive. The bare minimum.

“Principessa. You're freezing.”

The voice sliced through the haze like a blade through butter, and suddenly everything was real again. You shivered violently as you felt the chill pierce through your skin, and you groaned as you shifted, your joints stiff from the hours of stillness.

The sudden onslaught of sensation made your heart race in your chest, and your eyes prickled with overwhelm. You reached a hand to your chest, almost as if you could wrap a fist around your heart and command it to slow down. Your breath began to come out in short, stuttered bursts and you lurched up in your bed, curling your knees to your chest.

A hand rested on your back, and the light touch made you recoil. Just another sensation on top of the millions that were now assaulting you. It was too much. The hand withdrew.

“Y/N.” The familiar voice spoke again. “It’s just me. You’re okay.”

Your mind was in shambles, unable to place exactly how you knew the voice. Your vision was tunnelled, and your chest was burning. Something wrapped around your hand with a tight, vice like grip, and your mind focused on it. A thumb began to trail over your knuckles, and you fought to remain present, giving as much attention as you could to the hand enclosing your own. After a minute or two, or maybe more, you couldn't really be sure, the tightness in your chest eased. And after another unmeasurable stretch of time, you finally lifted your head.

“Theo?” You said quietly as your eyes met his. “What's going on?”

His dark brows furrowed, and he peered at you closer. “I was hoping you could tell me that, tesoro.”

Another chill wracked your body, and you shook your head. “I’m… I’m not sure. I know I was… staring at the ceiling for a few minutes, I just…”

You trailed off, looking down. A hand grabbed your chin gently and turned your face back to Theo’s.

“A few minutes?” He asked softly. “Y/N, you were unresponsive for hours. It’s past dinner, your dorm mates came and got me when they couldn't get you to leave your bed or even acknowledge them.”

You blinked. Hours?

“I… it didn't feel like that long.” Shame coloured your words, your lip trembling as a peculiar burning sensation pricked at your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Theo’s expression softened, the tension smoothing out as he sighed. “Don't apologise, principessa, I just need you to tell me what's wrong. How can I help you?”

You shake your head, pursing your lips. “I don't know what's wrong. This just… happens sometimes. Everything goes numb and I just can't feel anything.”

Theo nods, silent for a moment as he thinks. “Can I… can I hug you?” He asks finally, his voice tentative and unsure. “I’m not really sure what else to do. I'm not used to being the comforting person.”

You shift closer to him, nodding. He opens his arms and you duck your head under his chin, folding yourself into his embrace. He’s warm, the contrast of his heated skin to your freezing body forcing another bout of shudders from you, but he only holds you tighter.

His arms are wrapped around you, and he moves to sit fully on your bed, hauling you between his legs to bring you closer. Before long, tears are falling down your cheeks, staining his shirt as you sob into his chest.

“I’m- I’m sorry.” You hiccup. “Your shirt…”

You feel, rather than see his head shake in denial above you. “It doesn't matter.” His chest rumbles against your head as he speaks. “I don't care, whatever you need, tesoro.”

Once your tears slow, and you've wiped the evidence from your cheeks, you pull back to look at him.

He's staring at you with the most gentle expression you've ever seen from him, and your cheeks flood with heat. You look away.

“I'm sorry you had to see that.” You mumble, fidgeting with your fingers.

His hand cups your cheek, bringing your eyes back to his. “You're my best friend.” He whispers. “You never have to be sorry for being upset. Don't ever apologise for that.”

Your lips part, and his eyes seem to zero in on them. Your heart leaps into your throat, and you're suddenly lost for words.

Before you can second guess yourself, you lean forward, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek.

As you pull away, you're sure your cheeks are flaming hotter than the sun, but the rising blush spreading across Theo’s own face is prettier than anything else you've ever seen.

[armpirate]

RED || Jungkook | Ch. 2

MASTERLIST Previous ||  Next

Pairings: Demon!Jungkook x fem!reader  

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, fantasy, past life

Warnings: Explicit language, mention of death and suicide, demonology, violence, rough sex

Summary: Y/n thought her life couldn't get worse after losing her parents in a tragic accident. Years after, she's aware of everyone moving forward, while she's in the same place, isolated and alone. She struggles to find meaning in a world that seems indifferent to her grief. Desperate for comfort, to feel the deep connection she had been missing, she starts the manifestation, expecting an inoffensive entity to walk with her that rough path. What she doesn't know is that she awoke the mysterious entity tied to an old necklace around her neck.

Jungkook, a mysterious and seductive figure, appears in her life, offering the company she craves. But as his presence grows stronger, so does the unsettling sense that there's more to him -and the necklace- than meets the eye, unfolding all the reasons that took him to that place.

Now, as the past bleeds into the present, Y/n must fight with her growing feelings for the demon who seems familiar yet dangerous. Jungkook is determined to reclaim his power, but in doing so, he may doom Y/n once again. Bound by fate, the two are locked in a dangerous mix of love, redemption, and the looming threat of destruction. 

Will they break the curse that has haunted them both, or will history repeat itself with devastating consequences?

Chapter duration: 16 minutes

Chapter warnings: Smut, female masturbation, exhibitionism, voyeourism

She tried to focus on the class, failing miserably with every new attempt, because the only thing in her head was that dream. His deep voice, his tattooed arms, his intriguing gaze from afar. She had never seen that man in her life -or, more like, those features-, yet she was addicted to being looked at that way. Her brain kept repeating the images of that dark room, trying to picture his hand sliding over her body with all the freedom he possessed. And, while she thought of it, she could only lament how it lasted less than she wished it did. She was left at the door of feeling something so pleasuring that felt out of that world, yet her body reacted before she could even taste it.

After blinking, her mind focused back in class, ignoring the way she spaced out again, when the sound of the chalk against the board filled the classroom.

—You can be as skeptical as you want —the professor looked at the students, scanning each one of their faces so he could make sure they were paying attention to what he said—, every book you read nowadays has been inspired, directly or indirectly, by works from classic literature. E.L James didn't invent erotic literature nor Wattpad created paranormal romance.

She was surprised by how affected and offended he looked over that topic, ignoring the possibility of just talking through some of their opinions to go on with his lecture. He was into his ten-minute explanation on how the classics were starting to miss on a lot of bookshelves, and how they didn't get the new generation of readers' attention, because people just wanted something easy to digest, something that wouldn't require any effort to think and decipher. And it wasn't like her teacher was completely wrong.

It wasn't like her classmates had been the brightest about that topic either. They were into their last year of their degree in English studies and, when asked about the first book that came to their minds, complex titles were names that would come to mind. That was the expectation, that was the bare minimum. Coming up with commercial books wasn't the best answer, yet it was acceptable if it was a book that didn't seem written by a horny teenager. While thinking about it, she indeed thought her teacher's rant was justified. They had been asked to read several books, they could've played smart and given out one of those titles. Not even mentioning one of those just showed off the lack of attention and interest in pretending they were there to do more than to keep their seats warm.

—That's why you all should add a new task to your schedules.

A new forced reading was coming their way.

Everyone in the classroom avoided complaining out loud. The fear of making the situation any worse was the biggest threat upon their heads. And while the rest tried to think of how they got in that situation only because of the ten percent of the class that had no interested in the most basic things, Y/n was trying to figure out where she'd get time to do whatever task they were asked on time, when she was on her way to work as soon as she finished class.

—You'll have to do some research. It could be about any work, author, context or event from the past that could've been an inspiration for contemporary literature —he looked at all of them again—. You'll also do a presentation on it, one by one —with that, he dismissed the possibility of doing that work in groups—. You have three months, so I expect you to put in a lot of hard work and hand me a mind-blowing research —he went back to his desk—. It'll be 25% of the final mark.

That shitty task would be more important than the assignment for the semester? He must be kidding, Y/n's eyes managed to express what her mind was screaming.

Her classmates started throwing questions at the professor, one after the other, while she was focused on her laptop to write down everything he'd just said.

One of her locks at the back of her head suddenly moved while she started typing the date and all the instructions he dictated. It felt as if someone was playing with her hair. She looked up, searching for any open window that could let some breeze in, but all the windows were closed. She looked up, looking for any sign of the air conditioner being on, but it seemed like it was off as well.

It was weird.

It creeped her out even more when she thought about the fact that she was sitting on the last row. And, even then, she turned to check there was no one playing with her. She was confused when she found the blank wall right behind here, with no one else waiting to trick her. She frowned, giving up on something so stupid, assuming it was just her imagination. It was probably stress playing her a bad time.

Turning back to her computer, she found the word "Demonology" written right next to "Work concept: ". She didn't remember writing any of that, she actually didn't remember opening up a new sheet. But it was something usual when she spaced out. Her body entered an automatic mode, realizing she did things she didn't expect of doing.

She wasn't going to complain anyway. It was still an idea she could look into, and discard if she didn't find anything that was interesting. And probably not a lot of people would go down that type of storyline.

Half an hour later, the clock warned the ending of the class, and the professor let them go with a sigh.

As usual whenever she was free, Y/n waited in the cafeteria for her two friends, with whom she spent her breaks between classes. Sitting at one of the empty tables, she couldn't shake the lingering curiosity about what she'd done last night and the supposed signs she was meant to receive.

Following the steps in the videos she'd watched, she opened Pinterest, scrolling through her usual feed: glamorous party dresses she could never imagine wearing like the models did, a couple of cute puppy posts, and then... a peculiar post. Black letters on a white background read: "I'm watching you."

Y/n frowned. She didn't remember saving anything like that, not even by accident. She couldn't recall ever searching for quotes to post as statuses either, so the message was unsettling. Was it a sign? Or, more likely, were her thoughts clouded by all those videos she'd watched? It was entirely possible she'd saved a similar post at some point, causing others like it to show up now. Or, maybe, even clicking over one of them to look at them was enough for that type of posts to show up shortly after.

But signs, she remembered, typically took weeks or months to appear because the entity supposedly needed time to grow comfortable around the summoner.

—The poor thing is shy —she scoffed, shaking her head when she realized how pathetic everything started to look.

Aside from her introduction, she hadn't engaged much. She hadn't even thought about the manifestation all day. She wished she had more free time to worry about it, but college took most of her brain space -even if she hated it.

She was definitely overthinking and being too hopeful on those videos actually working out, or that manifestation even being real at all.

—Did you have class with Scissorhands? —Mark's voice interrupted her thoughts.

Scissorhands was their History of Literature professor, infamous for his extra-long nails. Some students called him Freddy Krueger, though both nicknames would signal who they meant. It wasn't a big thing, or something she would worry about, until his nails scratched the blackboard accidentally while writing.

It was only then when she wondered why they didn't have the type of white boards most classrooms had.

Mark and Anthony joined her at the table, leaning in with expectant expressions, clearly aware of what she was about to say. She launched into a rant about the assignment Scissorhands had just given them, all because a couple of classmates hadn't bothered to read the required books.

Mark and Anthony exchanged glances, unsure of how to respond. They could've just called the professor a jerk -it'd have been enough, considering she'd said it seven times herself by now.

—But, in general, you good? —Anthony asked, eyeing her with concern.

—Yeah —she nodded—. The year's just started, and I'm already drowning in homework and exams. When I'm not in class, I'm folding clothes in that lousy store. It's been this way for a year, I'm used to it.

—Think it'll go like last year? —Mark asked, his expression softening.

Both her friends knew it had been a tough couple of months, and that's why she was behind. Retaking classes in college was a nightmare, not just academically but financially.

Her parents' accident was a problem she wasn't able to control, and which required a lot of her mental strength, but even before that it wasn't like she was the best student. She remembered the big headache she gave her parents with studies because of it.

—Nope —she said, resting her head in her hand—. Only two retakes this time. Just one from second year, three from third, and then the final project.

Not wanting to drag down the mood, she quickly changed the topic back to them.

—Table soccer? —Anthony suggested—. I've got something to tell you, but not here.

The table soccer area, infamous for overheard gossip, was separated from the cafeteria by glass walls, offering a perfect place to vent while seeing anyone who approached. It was the perfect place to get the type of privacy someone needed to speak about something in the campus.

She could only imagine the amount of crazy stories that table had probably heard through the years.

—Wait... hold up —Mark's eyes widened as he turned to Anthony—. You hooked up with who?

There it was -prime cafeteria gossip.

When Y/n finally got home, she collapsed on the couch, feeling like she'd been run over by a convoy. Although it was only Monday, the shop was packed.

As she lay there, her mind returned to the strange post she'd seen on Pinterest earlier. Was someone -or something- actually watching her? If so, she needed a clearer sign than a random post.

—Are you there? —she murmured, shaking her legs nervously as she stared at the ceiling—. I can't believe I'm doing this —she mumbled.

Taking a breath, she tried again.

—Hello? You're allowed to manifest however you please. Just... make it obvious. I'm not the best at reading signs, so please, if you send one, make it big enough so I'm able to see it kilometers away.

Silence. Only the faint sounds of honking and neighbors' voices filtered through the window. She clapped once, breaking the quiet, and stood up.

—Good talk —she joked, heading toward the bathroom.

She threw her head back, in a failed attempt to get rid of the tension on her neck, caused by the awfully uncomfortable chair of the college library. The wooden seat kept putting her lower back on a stinging ache, while she was trying to keep her focus on the big pile of books on the left side of the desk. She was sure her spine would look like a roller coaster loop the moment she decided to get up.

After the Mythology teacher warned the class he wouldn't make it to one of his seminars, Y/n chose to use her spare time in the smartest and most productive way she could think of.

Ironic how it was one of her favorite subject, yet one of the three she happened to fail the previous year -with the lowest grade, by the way. It wasn't like she was surprised by the results either. How she was overconfident about it was the way she carved her grave. She should've known that liking it and being interested in it didn't mean she was good at it. Once she read a line of the notes she took, she kept thinking she already knew that, convincing herself that it was enough with what she had heard in class, and that was how she kept jumping from one note to the other, and ending up without knowing anything at all.

"Who would've thought I didn't know as much as I thought", she scoffed, remembering how embarrassed she was when she took the exam in January.

Being overconfident was dangerous. Probably more than just being ignorant or stupid. And she just happened to be the three of them.

She put the open book aside, turning back to her laptop to realize the document was still blank waiting to be filled with words. She had been there for two hours, eyeing different books to work on that other project, but there was absolutely nothing.

She tried to relax, laying on the chair more comfortably before she took her phone to check some apps.

Just a quick break.

On Twitter, she wasn't shocked to see the same depressing news there always were -exactly what she needed to avoid, because her desmotivation was reaching worrying levels.

On Instagram, some of her classmates had posted stories while chilling in the garden of the faculty or in the cafeteria.

"That's how you live the good life, when you keep your tasks up to date and have no worries about having to retake exams", she scolded herself.

No new text on Telegram, no texts on Whatsapp -which was surprising, because there tended to be one hundred unread texts from different group chats.

Frowning her lips, she closed the app and decided to open a different one.

Pinterest never failed to keep her entertained, and she always ended up spending hours scrolling down the feed. There was something always new to see there.

But that day she got a weird feeling from it, and something that made me feel uneasy. Actually, it had been that way for a few days.

First thing she saw when she opened the app was a black background with white letters on it, with "I think you look sexy when you touch yourself" written.

She almost threw the phone away, letting it fall carelessly over the desk.

It was great, added to her demotivation, there she had Pinterest reminding her of how sex deprived she was. Something she hadn't really thought of until that showed up on her screen.

She looked around, trying to find a logical explanation to that, before she went back to the phone, without touching it, and read that sentence again.

Suddenly, she was thinking of the possibility that she couldn't blame her mind for fooling her anymore. There was no way that phrase made it to her feed out of nowhere, not after what happened the previous night and what pushed her to do what she did.

A gasp woke her up violently from her sleep. She was just as heated and hectic as she was a few nights ago. She dreamt of him again, but it wasn't as vivid and real as last time. It felt more like a remembrance of him, those doe dark eyes, those pink heart-shaped lips with a ghoulish smirk, his tattooed hands, filled with rings, intertwined in the gap between his slightly spread thighs, while sitting on the edge of the bed.

As for her, she didn't remember where she was or what she was doing. She was just able to remember that wave of pleasure razing over her like a tsunami, activating all of her senses hard enough to wake her up.

Lying on her back, she tried to get back to breathing properly. Her hand moved over her forehead, pushing some of the messy locks of hair back -as if that helped her see anything through the dark anyway. Y/n whined at the throbbing feeling on her core, knowing damn too well there was no way it'd go away by itself. Her thighs were pressed together, with her eyes fixed on the ceiling when she felt a weight sinking on the edge of the bed, right next to her feet.

Far from being scared, she was intrigued.

Moving her left foot on the place where the mattress has supposedly sunk, she found nothing. But that didn't stop her from thinking whoever had been filling her dreams -and that got her in that extreme state of arousal- was there, watching her, enjoying the show she was about to pull out.

She didn't really hesitate to sit up on the bed, pressing her back against the wooden headboard. He'd been hunting her in her dreams, it was time for the payback.

She looked in the direction where that thing probably was seated -or not, but she wanted to believe there was something-, before she started taking off her XXL-sized T-shirt, tracing her curves with her fingers as she lifted it up slower than usual, making her moves sensual.

Her nipples tightened, victims of the cold air in the room, making them painfully hard when the temperature mixed with one of her dreams to act against her.

Tracing her curves again in the opposite direction when the cloth was somewhere in the room, she made her way to her panties. Her fingers traced her slit over the fabric, finding it wet and slippery. And she could only imagine those piercings trapped under his teeth as he bit his lower lip, trying to contain herself at the scene.

The thought of hope of him being much more than just a dream erased fast, making sure it wouldn't kill the vibe.

She tangled her fingers around the elastic of her panties, ready to push them down through her legs and let them find the same destination her shirt did. With her eyes fixed on one particular spot, trying to guess where his fierce eyes would be, she spread her legs slightly.

She was convinced she wouldn't be acting that way in front of any real person, not after what happened with her ex, but there was something about the man in her dreams, about his aura... Damn it, she was sure she'd act the same way if he was there in front of her.

Teasing herself through her folds and sliding her fingers up and down until she reached her entrance, she coated them with her arousal. Just then realizing how messy it was already, how turned on she got only by the thought of his fingers touching her instead. Her back arched just with the thought of each single one of his tattoos disappearing while he fingered her.

A moan escaped her lips as soon as she pictured his dark eyes watching every single expression on her face, drinking up every bit of pleasure he helped built up without even being there.

Her palm pressed against her clit and rubbed it every single time she dipped her fingers in, making herself go crazy.

She was near.

The knot kept tensing on her belly, just one move right and she'd be already in the right place.

Her body arched unconsciously, and her legs closed instinctively, with her brain too busy with the feeling to be able to control her own body.

She slowly moved her fingers out, whining at the accidental touch of the palm over her sensitive bud.

A few minutes later, while trying to catch her breath, she opened her eyes.

There was a shadow with a thick and strong human shape. She swore she saw it vanishing right in front of her eyes, in that exact spot where she kept her eyes on.

Pleasure was no longer there, panic invaded her completely when the thought of one person being there was not part of her imagination.

She rushed to turn on the light of the lamp on her nightstand, but there was nothing.

Nothing at all.

She was naked, still a bit fuddled by the orgasm... and alone. She was convincing herself everything that happened that night: the weight on the bed and the shadow, all came from her imagination and how a little too into the show she got.

A few hours later, and after processing it right, she thought of the idea of it being a dream. A way too vivid dream, way too realistic to the point that it had her acting while she was asleep.

Y/n gulped hard, feeling her pasty spit go down her throat. She tried to digest what was going on, trying to find a logical explanation. She liked to think she was just being influenced by all the videos she had watched, letting herself too into the joke.

She probably was seeing things she wanted to see, and not things that were actually there or existed.

But that night... Hell, she saw him herself. That dark shadow was in the exact same spot where she felt the bed sinking.

He was right there.

She pushed the entity's limits, she pushed him to speak. Thinking that maybe, since he was communicating through one of her apps, he'd also be able to answer through the notes. Her phone was held high with trembling hands, before she typed "Are you here?".

Right when she was waiting for his answer she realized how stupid it all was. She was allowing dumb stories on Tik Tok and Youtube to get to her.

She needed to stop paying attention to it and go back to her normal life. 

[mightierthanthecanon]

I bet he liked you.

He did, yeah.

[shawtuzi]

thinking about suguru and satoru eating your pussy at the same time heje

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 imagine them both between your thighs, staring hungrily at your dripping pussy before gojo breaks the ice and thumbs at your already sensitive clit

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 imagine geto soothing your little trembles by gently stroking your thigh, maybe even giving it a few kisses of encouragement <//3

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 imagine both of the men using one strong hand to push your plush thighs open, exposing yourself even more to them. if you dared try to shut your thighs even a tad they’d be pushed right back open, along with a quick slap the soft skin curtesy of geto

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 imagine the two friends bickering for a moment before geto finally caves and lets gojo have the first taste

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 imagine gojo wasting no time spitting on your clit before wrapping his lips around it, tongue immediately caressing your sensitive nub. he couldn’t decide between roughly sucking on the poor thing or moving his tongue side to side sooo he settles on both! he hollowed his cheeks, holding your clit in place while his tongue continued moving with vigor

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 imagine geto sucking on the soft skin of your thighs while his hand finds purchase on your bare breast, squeezing roughly every once in a while to keep you on your toes

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 imagine geto slowly kissing his way towards your center before nudging gojo’s head with his own, giving the man a cheeky smile

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 imagine both men looking up at you before—

“a-ah!!! oh my-” your back suddenly arched off the bed as you felt not one, but two hot tongues on your clit. one slowly moving up and down, like they were trying to savor the taste of your essence—not too hard or too fast….just sensual. the other tongue on the other hand settled on quick, harsh licks sooo basically the exact opposite.

“s’good right ?” gojo slurred into your pussy, now sloppily kissing his way down to your dripping hole. geto took this as an opportunity to cup your entire clit in his mouth, while his tongue drew soft circles around the nub. geto hummed around your clit, spit dribbling from his lips from the sloppy kisses he was giving your weeping pussy.

all it took was gojo shoving his tongue in your pussy for your back to arch slightly off the bed as you came with a loud, pathetic whine. gojo moaned just as loud when he felt your cum began to coat his tongue in little waves.

geto pulled away from your clit with an obnoxious pop! dark eyes admiring at the mess your pussy has already become. “lemme get a taste,” he mumbled, leaning his head down to lick a slow strip up your pussy. but one lick was not enough! and it wasn’t long before gojo got a little jealous and smacked geto on the back of his head, a small grunt leaving him.

“‘fuck was that for?” geto hissed, but gojo didn’t even bother glancing at him, his attention focused solely on your soaked center. his long fingers ran slowly up and down your petal soft slit, occasionally applying light pressure to your clit. without warning he plunged two fingers in with a lewd squelching sound following, “we’re supposed to be sharing don’t be so greedy, now let’s make her cum again.”

“j-just be gentle m’still a little— hah! sensitiveeee,” your request fell on deaf ears as both mens tongues were on your clit once again. they went from synchronized licks, to each giving your clit an open mouth kiss, to taking turns slapping your pussy.

you tried to keep your eyes on them but you could only handle so much before you head fell back against your bed, eyes rolling into the back of your head. “m’gonna put my fingers in sweet thing,” geto mumbled into your thigh, giving it a sweet kiss before plunging two fingers inside you. getos fingers began doing a scissoring motion, and to help you avoid the stinging stretch gojo sucked your throbbing clit in his mouth.

“i’m gonna cu-cum againnn, you’re gonna make me—” your body tensed as another orgasm washed over you, a much pleasing sight for the two men before you. “fuck she’s squeezing me real fucking tight, ease up yeah? gonna make it real hard for gojo to put his in too,” geto growled, curling his fingers in the most delicious way possible.

you whined something along the lines of ‘i’m tryinggg’ and gojo could’ve just ate you up the way you were being so cute. “hehe she’s so cute the way she’s trying to keep it together, just let go baby we’re right here to catch you,” gojo giggled menacingly, his two fingers slowly prodding at your entrance.

“don’t forget to go slow, don’t wanna hurt the poor thing now,” geto patted your thigh before giving it a sharp swat.

it took a little time to get you used to the stretch of four fingers inside your tight little pussy, but you managed like the good girl you were for them. “oh my fuckin’…” your mouth dropped as both men began to move their fingers at a semi-fast synchronized pace, digits bumping against that special that had your toes curling.

geto eyed your lonely breast and brought his free hand up to tweak at your nipple, gojo following suit. there was so much going on and your poor little brain could only handle so much before you were spluttering out nonsense making the two men chuckle.

“look at how wet she is….dripping all over the fucking bed,” geto groaned, pushing his aching erection against the edge of your bed. anything to find a little relief he’s only human. “she’s squeezing so tight i think she’s gonna cum again!” gojo moved his hand from your nipple to your clit, rubbing tight little circles that had your thighs trembling.

you weren’t able to give them a verbal warning of intense orgasm, the only signal being being the clear stream of cum shooting from your pussy each time they pulled their fingers out. “catch some, but don’t swallow,” geto grunted, shoving gojos head down to catch some of your squirt in his already watering mouth.

once you were done they both slowly pulled their fingers out, a small whine leaving your lips from the emptiness. geto turned to gojo, his breathing uneven. “you know what to do,” he nodded his head towards you and gojo quickly understood, slowly crawling up the bed to where you laid, glazed eyes staring up the the ceiling with a fucked out smile on your face.

“open your mouth for him,” geto grunted squeezing the plushness of your thigh. you obliged and slowly opened your mouth, quickly met with the tart, tangy taste of your cum mixed in with a little of gojos spit. geto hummed happily giving your tummy a soft kiss, “that was fun, messy but fun nonetheless.”

the next twenty minutes were spent catering to your every need ofc. gojo having you between his legs, long arms wrapped around your waist while geto gently cleaned the mess up between your thighs. “did so good for us angel, thank you for letting us indulge in you,” gojo smiled, giving your hip a loving squeeze.

they both had raging boners but in this moment it was all about you but hey!! maybe once your rested up you’ll let them put both their dicks in you!! but don’t tell gojo that rn he might bust in his pants the poor thing :((

[redcherrykook]

──𐙚 think i need someone older (s & f)

olderBoyfriend!Jungkook x inexperienced!reader

────୨ৎ────

content: some plot first, loss of virginity, age gap of 9 years (he´s 30), thigh humping, little dry humping too, cowgirl, he talks her through it, dom!jungkook, "sweet girl, baby, love", "gguk" lowkey insecure reader, praise, making out, breast play, clit play, creampie, unprotected, hickies on him, big c!ck Jungkook, small karaoke session, he´s whipped and wants to take care of her, short mention of alcohol (bc of that fucking bar he has omg), allusions to reader being short, she's very feminine

note from cherry: i tried to do justice to the people who wanted this, i hope you´re satisfied mwah! sooo sorry if it´s not giving lmao writing this was lowkey exhausting, also sorry for typos as always

────୨ৎ────

Jeon Jungkook is exactly like his preferred alcoholic beverage; whiskey. strong, rich, smooth, smells like oak and a hint of vanilla caramel. Much like your introduction to the drink, you met this man in a bar.

A real man- none of those barely twenty-year olds that paraded around in their sagged sweatpants and with a bright tap of unlimited unopened snapchats lighting up the dark corners of the bar. Jungkook is pure masculinity, a chest so full with security, so grounded in his abilities that it was practically impossible to ignore how his large, brown galaxy eyes focused on your face, zeroing in on your cupid´s bow while you licked the stinging remains of your moscow mule away- he paid for it, of course.

Once the enticing conversation that felt almost comically easy faded, you expected him to try and take you to his house- mansion, as he revealed in a sidetracked sentence. Although you were looking forward to seeing the small metal pearls below and over his eyebrow move as they crinkle in pleasure, the tight ropes of virginity had not yet been released in your 21 years of living. Shackles that keep you tied down- as promised out of your own, admittedly senseless morality, not to be opened by a stranger. The key to your cuffs belonged to a lover.

It was unforeseeable, nevertheless natural for him to droop his heavily tattooed arm around your waist while escorting you out of the establishment. The sleeve of his white button down folded up along his forearm for you to see the beauty of his skin, wondering just how many more of those carefully crafted works of art he´s hiding beneath the business casual attire.

Once engulfed in the harsh, bitter wind that itaewon possesses, his arm only drew you in closer, so near in fact, you were able to notice a small scar on his cheek, one you hadn´t been able to notice in the curse of a dimly lit place. The more your eyes adjusted to him, so grew your anger at the lighting inside your place of first meeting- it had done an injustice to the man you had already been disgustingly attracted to, stole the wholehearted, inescapable allure of such a mature presence.

The gentleman looks down into your awaiting eyes, only to ask if he may have your number, upon your agreement, he proceeded to tell you that he would be walking you home, wanting you to arrive safely since it must be dangerous for a woman to walk the streets of a party district at 2 am in the morning.

That encounter was four months ago, and only a month after that initial conversation, he had completely taken over you. Swallowed you whole in just how well he treated you.

Insistent of using his black card to buy you anything you remotely showed liking in, dedicated to communication, random flowers that showed up at your office and a constant offer of a ride in his luxurious black mercedes-benz GT63s; no matter how long it took- even if it was a inconvenience, sometimes taking longer to get to you than it would have taken you to simply retort to public transport.

"I told you i´d make it for you, didn´t I baby? hm?" his velvet smooth voice rings, from how he´s standing, with his body pressed against your back, towering over you, you could feel the hardened muscles of his torso meeting you. His large, slim hands reach to either side of your waist, to the glass filled with ice that you´re holding in between your own, gently removing them to resume the task that you were occupied with. Your eyes glance to the bulging of his bicep, that loose, casual tshirt did nothing to hide just how big he had gotten due to his newfound hobby.

you whine- almost, biting down on your lower lip to prevent just that from happening, "thank you gguk" you say, turning to peck the very muscle that´s invading your line of sight. He hums, a low, satisfied sound from the back of his throat.

"c´mere baby" patting one of his muscular thighs, his eyes drift to your figure walking towards him, iced tea in hand, just like he had made it for you. Sweet, light, refreshing, much like your presence in his life. Almost like a sign from the stars that his hearts content was somewhere, bundled in the form of a shorter girl with eyes that could entrance any sailor- far less siren like, no, wide with love and purity. Just what he had yearned for in any women he had met before you-whether tangled in meaningless sheets or involved in a month long, semi serious relationship, Jungkook was yet to cross paths with the one woman that would make him turn so desperate, he would have begged for their happiness on his knees. It might be romantic, even a tad dramatic to admit that from the very first word that left your pink glossed lips, he knew better than anyone else that he was in deep, deep trouble. Upon seeing the curve of your waist, hearing that soft, lulling voice, that embarrassingly obvious fact only intensified after finding out just how delightful you truly were, it made him want to rip his hair out- do anything in the possibility of his grip to see even a glimpse of your smile, of that lighthearted, cheerful giggle you let out regularly. He was drawn in my your feminine nature, by the way you let yourself fall into his caring embrace.

He´s quickly directed back to reality as soon as your legs make it to either side of the thigh he had patted earlier, a familiar position for this equally familiar occasion. Muscle memory sets in for him, grabbing the large karaoke remote to hand to you while he turns the microphone on. "Can you sing something to me first?" the question sets his bunny smile off, nodding instantly "Sure love, chose a song for me" he says. Your mind floods with ideas, but you settle for a song you´ve heard him hum millions of times, mindlessly going about.

"Malibu nights?", jungkook questions excitedly while the instrumental sets in, he knew the answer, but his heart swelled with joy at the notice you took to this song. After all, he loved to sing. Another layer to him that has you melting, growing into the embodiment of love that is endlessly cherishing what little fractions were revealed to your eyes in each fleeting moment. His honey voice reaches beautiful highs and lows you can only compare to something angelically otherworldly in nature.

It made you want to know just how deep he could growl, how far his sounds can drop with the dirty nothings you would love to have whispered in your ear. You felt filthy for letting your mind wander to such extends when all he did was sing, lulling you into drunken harmony with him. Still, you consciously lean back into his body, letting him wrap his arms around your waist, encircling it with his vanilla oak scent.

During the past four months, you were doomed to have to shatter his hopes, reveal the truth that somehow felt shameful ; that you´re fully untouched. Nothing further than a bad makeout had yet graced your skin, it made you feel even smaller admitting something so vulnerable to a man that carries almost an entire decade of experience more. Much to your comfort, his hands found the curve of your cheeks immediately, telling you that there is nothing to be embarrassed about, he would hand you the full control, you set the pace.

Internally, Jungkook drooled at the idea that the woman of his dreams was to have her first, the most memorable, sexual encounter with him. Your body belonged to him, devoted to only remember the touch of his lips, the curve of his cock, how he would mold you to his shape without the intrusion of another man having tried the same. Not that he would have wanted you any less if that had not been the case, but for one time in your relationship, he was oh so selfish to want you all to himself, aroused that your first person induced orgasm was going to be his and his alone. The prophecy fulfilled when on one, alcohol induced night a week ago, two of his long, tattooed digits made their entrance into your tight hole, relentlessly filling you until your soft thighs shook, until after your third high, he licked his fingers clean and let you taste yourself on his tongue.

The tunes get lost in silence, he sets the microphone down, having felt the warmth of your mound beneath the tights while you tried to subtly gain friction, scooting back on him. His palms find your thighs, tightly flushed around his muscle. They´re shamelessly wandering up and down the thin material that prevents his hot, calloused fingers from feeling up your smooth skin.

"Wanna do that again, love?" jungkook mutters, his pillowed lips latch on to your exposed neck, right at the gentle curve that paints the beginning of your shoulder, soft, faint kisses that leave a trail of barely sounding sighs behind.

"Do what?" feigning innocence to avoid internal humiliation, you ask him, knowing he wouldn´t let it go, not until you told him to. The sound of his husky chuckle sounds right on the sweetspot of your neck, he sucks a little harder, encouraging you with the constant rub to your thighs. Instinctively, the heat inside your panties grows as do the intensity of your desperate moans, your hips push back on his thigh, seeking the solidity that grants you the portion of satisfaction your needy button longed for

"that" he simply says, having found an anchor in your hips now, your plaid skirt bunches around his hands, slowly- tortuously so when met with the deliberate little humps he helps you to complete on him. You practically whimper once his tongue glides across your skin, dragging from your shoulder, up your neck, intertwined with his open mouth, loud kisses that don´t seem to stop.

"that´s it... do you even know how cute you sound?" he smiles, and you feel it, you feel the smile rise to his lips with every additional kiss, every noise you grant the hungry male. "gguk, wanna see you" you whine- the high pitched noise has him twitching in his training joggers, semi errect but about to stand stiff, just as noticeably as that night seven days ago, having formed a huge tent inside his slacks, there was no hiding his attraction, no use to conceal his utter need for you.. nor his size, not that he would be capable to anyways.

To your request, he helps you turn around, now facing that dim glow on your slightly embarrassed features, taking note of how you nibble on your lip with every grind forward, "that feel good sweet girl?" he asks, ghosting his lips over yours faintly, just enough to see how much you need it, "mhm.. really good" you mumble back, chasing after his lips that he can't deny you of any longer, the kiss is gentle, but nourishes your heat further

"wanna feel even better?" the pit in your lower abdomen grows at the tone of his voice, something much stronger is seeping through his system, something that screams dominance, you nod- naturally wanting to get lost in it. Jungkook's hands stop assisting you, instead, they take to your shirt, "can i take this off of you baby?" he waits for that little hum of yours before swiftly tugging it away from your form

It's almost frightening how quickly your mind reverts back to wanting to run away and hide, your arms fly across your chest, everything you felt so good doing stops and he stops too,

"don't hide, you're perfect, you're so fucking sexy" his eyes trace your skin, hands wrapping around your wrists to pull your arms away, revealing your chest hugged into your bra, and jungkook almost forgets how to breathe properly,

he groans- groans that delicious deep noise that makes your head spin, even more so when you feel his appreciation for your body, hands pulling you closer by the waist so can bury his head into your cleavage. "so beautiful" he mutters, darting his tongue out to lick the slit between your tits, "wanna touch all over you, make you feel so good" he says, finding the clasp on your back to open it with one hand. a silent reminder of his experience, one you did not have in the slightest but somehow, it felt even better that way

"mh.. feels good gguk" you can't help but moan at the forgein sensation, his lips wrap around your hardend nipple, groaning sweetly while he sucks on it, carefully swiping his tongue over the little nub- your other breast is securely fitted into his palm, thumb playing with it just like he does with his mouth, mirroring every little flick

"feels so good doesn't it? you smell so good baby" his lips move to do the same to your other breast, switching sides with a trail of saliva sticking to his lips,

In that moment you feel so sensitive, so lost in his secure hold and at the same time, so small in his skillful dominance that you simply relish in the feeling, grinding your soaked core into his thigh over and over, long, hasty drags over his muscle while his lips work magic on your skin, squeezing a little tighter, sucking a little harder because every stuttered whimper fuels his urge to take care of you

"that's it baby.. keep going, you're so good" your hands find his dark chocolate locs, threading through it with the need to ground yourself. it feels as though every time your clit meets him, instead of getting you closer to sensational relief it adds to the ache, feeds into your desire to take and take more of him, be consumed by his strength

"want this off please" your excited fingers fiddle with the hem of his oversized shirt, earning a smug grin from your boyfriend as he detaches from you, discarding of his top

Although you have seen him shirtless before, it's impossible not to salivate at the sight, at his toned broad torso that curves into a unfairly small waist, large arms flexing when he reaches for your tits again, massaging them once more,

"like what you see pretty?" he says, teasingly cocking his head and biting at the metal ring on the corner of his lip, you blush- the slick drools out even more between your thighs, "so hot gguk, annoyingly hot" he chuckles, joining the sound with your airy giggle, but he sucks in a breath as soon as you shift in his lap, now fully straddling him, naked chest pressed to his with your head burried in his neck, "hmm.. what are you up to baby?" his hands find your back, soothing himself not to pounce on you because the strain in his pants is staggering his breath, your errect nipples are rubbing against his skin and it´s making him shiver, desperate, oh so desperate for you

but he knows all to well not to overwhealm your sweet, virgin body, to let you take all the time you need until he can feel every breath of your submission

"wanna feel you gguk, can i?" jungkook almost purrs at how innocently you ask, suppressing the need to grind his hips into your heat from below, "of course baby, anything you want. it's all yours"

he meant it, every vein cursing through his body belongs to you, working, pumping blood through him for the sole purpose of loving you, taking care of you. "all mine?" you hum, aroused by the confidence he emitts, your hands trace up his torso, creating a small distance between your bodies to feel up the hard lines on his abdomen with laboured breath of your own, lips finding every small patch of his neck that make him hum, make his sighs of pleasure slowly turn into groans "all yours my love" the answer wasn't necessary, not when you already started to leave traces of you on his skin, faint, red bruises on his neck that he's impatiently waiting to run around with

"you feel so fucking good, need to feel more of you, will you let me sweet girl?" his words are intoxicating, washing away any doubt or fear and replacing it with a intense craving of sexual desire "please gguk i'm so wet for you" the sound reaches his ears and shuts down his entire system, his hands carelessly rip down your skirt and stockings, leaving you in those tiny grey boyshorts that he looses his mind over "baby how did you hide all this from me?" his hands caress your thighs, your hips, up your waist and to the soft flesh of your stomach with hungry, insatiable eyes that long for a taste of your every inch

"all yours" you mimic him, sounding just like him with your sultry, shy voice, already wanting to remove his own bottoms which he catches on, ridding himself of the nuisance "yeah, all mine. this is all mine" he says, smiling softly

Your drenched underwear meets his errection as he pulls you back on his lap, hands sitting on your waist, you look so vulnerable- almost fragile in his grip, shyly moaning because the curve of his cock presses into your skin like it was molded for you, needy folds clinging to your underwear and your clit throbs- throbs begging for another taste of friction

"I don't know how to do any of this" he suddenly he hears you mumble, seeing how you're playing with your fingers that sit on his lower abdomen, your head is turned to them, a slight pout decorates your features

jungkook feels the need to sob- to take away whatever is making that pretty head of yours feel so threatened even though you're the best thing he has ever felt, the only person he ever wants to lay his hands on ever again

"that's okay baby, hey, look at me for a second will you?" you comply, craving his lead, his security to catch you, most of all that gentle, masculine dominance that floods your senses effortlessly

"you're doing so so well pretty, you don't have to worry okay? i'll take you through it, make you feel so good" he says, cupping your cheeks in his palms while sitting up a little to press kisses to your nose, your forhead, your lips and cheeks,

unable to contain your smile, you nod, gaining back the heartbeat in your willing feminity to let him take care of you, "thank you baby" you say with upmost honesty, pressing your lips to his in a kiss of adoration

"mhm.. come on, let's get this off of you love" his whipers lingers on you, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear before pulling it off your lifted legs, he moans at the sight of your bare cunt, slick attached to the cloth and glistening over your feminity

"so beautiful, do you even realize how lucky i am? how thankful i am that this sweet, sweet girl is all mine to love?" he says softly, so softly that your eyes gloss a little bit, feeling so utterly vulnerable in front of him, so sexy in the most feminine way possible. blush creeps up your cheeks, his hands find your inner thigh, dancing around the sensitive skin "you're too sweet gguk"

he returns your smiles, lifting your hand to kiss it before intertwining it with his own, lacing his fingers into you because being apart from your body feels like torture in this moment. but you're eyes are busied elsewhere, locked on the large outline that stands rock solid insides of his calvins, a small, wet patch that indicates his arousal decorating the very top

"go ahead baby, take it off" not needing to be told twice, you help yourself to his boxers, tugging them down in one, slow motion that leaves him biting his bottom lip, he pushes them down to his ankles, kicking them off

both of you sit like this for a moment that feels like eternity, raw, bare and without a chance to hide in front of the other's desperate gaze, comfort, pure love that's inseparable with a pulsing you can no longer ignore, not when he´s so big, so broad and decorated with a vein alongside his curved shaft

he grabs at the flesh of your ass, pulling you to sit your gushing cunt over his stiff length, cursing at feeling how soft you are, how much arousal truly spills from your body

"you're so.. big gguk.. m'scared" your whine makes him coo, stroking your head while a possessive grip that stays on your hip, his left hand tethering to your hair in the meantime, "don't be, you were made for me sweet girl, made for it" your head falls to his shoulder, arching your torso into his body with a small hump to his leaking cock, "that's right baby, feel it, feel how hard i am for you" spurred on by his encouragement, you tighten your hands on his bicep, rolling your hips over his, his entire shaft is coated in your essence, angry pink tip meeting your swollen clit repeatedly, so much so you feel your thighs shake, feel an impending orgasm waiting to flow over your body,

Ripping yourself of that sensation, not yet- you tell yourself

"want it gguk, want it so bad" jungkook hums, kissing your neck messily, cock throbbing beneath you, "want what pretty? talk to me" he says, his own desire to claim you all to himself becomes unbareable with each passing second that you stay put

You shift forward again, whining, "please gguk" he groans, twitching at how desperate you sound, entranced with how needy you've become for him, he didn't even have to make you beg for it, you just did

effortlessly perfect for him, "come on, tell me my love" but he has to hear more, he needs to hear the dirty confession falling from your pure lips

"want your cock jungkook, please" there it is- that submissive, whiny plead for him, it makes him feel alive, throwing his head back on the black leather couch momentarily "good girl, fuck baby you're so cute" he praises, taking the base of his cock into his hand but something stalls him, "do you want me to eat you out first? make it nice and slippery?" his teeth graze your ear, kissing over the shell of it, "no gguk i want it, want it now"- another nibble, "anything for you"

Your hips lift, hovering your tight, clenching hole over his thick manhood, hands sweaty and grasping at his firm shoulders, he spots your anxiety, wishing nothing more but to ease it

"sit down on it baby, it's gonna sting okay? but you're so good, I know you can take it" more, more reassuring words that you drink in, just as you sink down on it, wincing as your brows meet in frustration

"hurts.." you mutter, fingers digging into his tanned skin- you can't bring yourself to move down further, clenching your muscle tightly around only his fat tip that feels like it's splitting your drooling pussy open. his hands find your back again, "ssh baby.. i know... but you'e such a good girl, i know you can take every inch of my cock"

It takes a couple more kisses to your shoulder for you to sink down fully on his length, painfully so- having your hands claw into him, your lips trembling in confusion of why it feels so good to have him stuffed into you so deeply you can feel it inside your tummy, stretching into every crevice of your gummy walls. It's unlike anything you've ever felt before, fulfilling, deep pressure that you could get lost in- bathe in

Jungkooks feelings have synchronized with yours- he's unsure where you end or where he begins but you're clamped down on his cock, your skin already wet with sweat as it sticks to his unforgivingly, moans and shaky breaths fill in the silence, a unspoken question lingers, awaits for you to answer it

until you do, taking his large hands to your hips before pressing yours against his full pecks, a glint of confidence spites your eyes that makes jungkook want to hear you cry out his name over and over again

"oh fuck- baby you-" you whine, rolling your hips forward, mouth parted when you feel him move inside of you, slolwy, deeply "that's it my love, take your time, so sexy like this" his voice is far from stable, you moan again- the grinding becomes faster, assisted by his hands that pull you onto him just the way you like it- just like he said, you have it all, its all yours

"what- what if you can't come?" he needs to contain a laugh at that- the question is so absurd to him, so unimaginable that it makes him slightly angry why you couldn't understand that he could cum from seeing you alone, from one kiss to your chaste lips- he's already twitching at how sloppy, how loud your cunt is around him

"I almost came from seeing how needy that little pussy of yours is, you feel how hard i am don't you? all because of you baby" he mutters in response, you flourish at it, getting familiar with the grinding motion but you need more, you deserve more- so you start bouncing on him- up and down, slamming your own, curved hips down onto him. he's mesmerized by your pleasure, watching how your brows are knitted, how your lips leak with drool and airy moans, how your tits bounce- he gropes at them, cupping them greedily, his hands itch for your skin, for you to let yourself go on him

"good girl.. look at you, a natural at riding my cock- don't even need my help" you shake, exhaustion already growing in your eager hips but you cannot stop, you don´t want to stop taking every inch of his cock back into you, lifting your hips only to take him back in, "you're filling me so much" you moan into his mouth, having formed a unity with his lips that welcome you like home, "just like that pretty, little humps for me" he mumbles back, interlacing his tongue with yours

he tugs at your nipples with his inked fingers, reciprocrating the moaning, he mirrors you, throbs when you clench, explores your mouth when you part for him impatiently. it leaves you to no choice but to become his own reflection, your hips ground themselves in a stable rhythm as your fingertips roll over his own nipples, unexpectedly he whimpers, bites down into your shoulder cautiously

"That's it baby, driving me fucking crazy" he grinds his hips up into you, unlocking a feeling of bliss that leads you to errupt into pornographic moans, your hand flings to muffle them, eyes rolling back into your skull,

Jungkook is making love to you, letting you reach a state you would not have been able to imagine, not even in the slightest when all you have ever felt are your fingers hastily, uncoordinated on your bundle of nerves. still, he can feel you´re holding back, afraid to be loud- to take up space, but he's having none of it

"Dont be embarrassed sweet girl, you sound addicting, so cute, give me every little noise" sinful sensuality floods you with his encouragement, "gonna make you cum for me, deserve it don't you think?" you don't- in fact, you can't think, long gone into pleasure while his hips piston into you from below,

he slaps your clit gently, your walls clench from how good that feels, "i asked you something baby" he repeats, distracted by your droopy eyes that threaten to shut him out at any moment, "answer me sweet thing, do you deserve to cum hm?" he taunts, rutting his hips with a slower but harder motion, force that hits your g-spot- reels you back into the moment, you head moves frantically "yes, yes please i need to cum"

Jungkook groans in satisfaction, "that's right.. best little cunt, all mine" he goes back lapping at your chest, licking his way to any patch of skin that your addictive smell lurs him to- he feels all over your skin, sneaking his fingers to where your bodies morph into one so he can draw tight circles on your clit, stimulating you to cry out his name,

"Jungkook.. i- i can't stop it i-" you stutter, thighs tensing around him, the feeling is so overwhealming that you can't keep your head up, can't warn him more than that since you're already letting your dew sprinkle out- letting the shocks roll over your body

"just like that.. make a mess on my cock baby, you did so well, come for me" he rasps, his heavy balls release into your tightness at the thought that crosses his mind- the knowledge that he had made you orgasm, that your virginity belonged to him solely,

It embraces the both of you, fills you with a sense of euphoria that none of you wish to end

As the high washes over you, you break out into a small shudder, aware of his milky cum that splurts your walls white, aware of the oversensitive area between your legs that jungkook's fingers slowly stop touching, landing to your unstable and sore thighs instead.

his heavy breathing is woven into yours, contrasting how slowly, lazily he manages to caress your naked skin, finding comfort in your warm body

the small whisper of his name catches him off guard, he hums, pulling back to cup your face, "are you okay my love? feel good?" his eyes rank over your tired features, glowing before his very own eyes,

"so okay. I love you" you breathe out, pressing a kiss to his button nose,

"I love you too baby, so proud of you" his nose nuzzles against yours, "you were so so good"

your shy giggle lights up his face like it always does, "thank you.. for taking my virginity... felt so good" you mumble with your bottom lip tucked away between your teeth- it awakens his soft- still nestled cock, his hands grip your ass- feeling the flesh spill beneath his fingers "thank you for your trust baby, but god, you're gonna make me lose it" jungkook says into your neck, nose tracing the delicate line of your shoulder,

"why? is it too much?" unbeknownst to you, Jungkook rolls his eyes in annoyance, how could you be so fucking adorable?

"Let me show you why" he answers, making your head perk up a little,

"Wanna lay down for me pretty? I can give you another one, as many as you want. You deserve it, wanna spoil you, fuck i wanna give you everything you want" faintly audible as he's speaking into your skin, having already laid you down onto the cold cushions of his unreasonably expensive leather couch.

[inupibaldspot]

Back off,kid.

Pairing : Gojo Satoru x Reader

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : (Teen)Gojo is jealous over (kid) Fushiguro having a crush on you.

Fushiguro Megumi always wonders if he made the right choice every time a white-haired sunglass wearing teenager walks into the house.

The tall older boy would grin as his hands form a salute. “You doing good Megumi and Tsumiki?”

He was as useful as the indoor plants. Fushiguro thought.

Gojo wasn’t much good at cooking and neither helped with cleaning, probably because of his rich background—but he did spoil them with lots of food and pocket money but he wouldn’t ever admit that.

As much as Fushiguro would love to throw insults at Gojo, he holds back his tongue each time; Tsumiki would send sharp glare and nag him if he did.

The first friend he brought to visit them was a girl; it was after Gojo went missing for a while and when Tsumiki inquired about it ,he simply said one of his dear friend went cray-cray as his finger twirls at the temple of his head.

The girl had short, brown hair with a distinct smell of cigarette; her name was Shoko Ieiri. She wore an impressed look when she entered the house as she looked over to Gojo. “Heh— The place is pretty neat,Gojo.”

Fushiguro looked to Gojo who placed some groceries on the counter top with a proud smile on his face. “I know right!” Gojo replies.

The young boy frowns. “It’s Tsumiki who keeps the place clean.” Shoko gives Gojo a stare before she cackles.

A week later when Tsumiki was still in school with club activities, another person makes an appearance ,you. He could faintly hear conversations between you and Gojo through the front door on how you’d actually wanted to visit them sooner but was bombarded with mission before it swings open.

The first thing Fushiguro noticed was how Gojo seemed to make you enter first— other times he barges in without a care for Shoko— his hands near your back with a slight space, without touching it. Why was Gojo being nice?

You blink at the dark haired boy. “Fushiguro Megumi, right?” Gojo peers from behind as you smile. “Did you eat?”

“Not yet. Waiting for Tsumiki to get home.” Fushiguro thinks you’re the first person who is kind of decent.

You nod take plastic bag from Gojo’s hands and lift up it, your smile widen. “I’ll make you some good stuff then.”

“I want to eat your cooking too,y/n.” Gojo chirps in only to be ignored. And to your credit, it was actually good. He didn’t remember the last time he had something this good home made.

After that, your visits seemed to increase which Fushiguro Megumi did not mind, in fact he was getting fond of your presence. You helped with food, cleaning which lessened the load on Tsumiki plus you also helped him with his studies.

“You seemed to get it now, Megumi.” Poor kid, blushes a bit hearing your compliment. “Practice this set of questions and I think you’ll do pretty well on your tests.” You smile.

Fushiguro nods as he does as you say, face still heated up. He looks up at you, who was reading a book. Your hair slightly in your face, lips slightly parted with eyes focused. You were extremely beautiful and as much as he wouldn’t admit it , he had a big fat kid crush on you.

“Megumi-chan.” Suddenly he is shoved to the side as a body makes way in between you and him. It was Gojo who sat in between. “Move over~ This seat is mine.”

The boy frowns and so did you, not liking Gojo’s action. “Don’t interrupt the kid, who is studying.” Kid? Ouch…You huff as your move over, despite you complaining you make space for him, focus back on your book.

Fushiguro watched as Gojo leans closer to you, almost resting his head on your neck as he looked over to your book; after a while eyes slowly moved over to you, his expression softens.

Gojo smiles as he tugs a piece of hair behind your hair, to which you don’t react as if it was normal. Thee older man then turns his head to Fushiguro—oops,he got caught staring.

The white haired boy then grins, a condescending one in fact as he mouths out the following words.

‘y/n-is-mine.” Fushiguro huffs. ‘back-off.”

·:*¨༺ Part 2༻¨*:·

Reblogs, like and comment are appreciated! Love this work? out other here

[nereidprinc3ss]

hi!!! here for a request. can we have a imagine where reader has a wound from surgery or whatever on like in a rib and she hides to change the bandages but then spencer sees her and he’s like ‘lemme help you’ and…

you do you for the rest!

in which spencer helps BAU fem!reader change her bandages in the bathroom at work. it's intimate, and he's adorable and awkward, and it only fuels her terrible, terrible crush.

warnings/tags: fluff, talk/description of wound, brief talk of being stabbed (does not actually occur in this fic lol), reader wears a bra, spencer undoes said bra but not sexually, lots of suggestive humor and teasing, a TINY sprinkling of angst but not really, idiots in love

a/n: i'm picturing early seasons spencer and it is filling me with so much unbridled joy. I. LOVE. HIM. thank you for the request!! and lets not talk about how inconsistent my formatting for requests is pls and thanks!!

It’s not like you meant to bend down so quickly that your wound reopened—but here you are, suffering the consequences of your actions in the women’s bathroom at Quantico as you try to assess the injury before you re-bandage it. And your shoe is still untied. 

Unfortunately, the fact that you had quite literally been stabbed in the back last week makes it hard to reach said injury—especially when you’re at work and so can’t take off your shirt like you normally would. And all this struggling means it’s taking longer than it should, so now you’re focused on the wound and its scabby, wet edges and all the things it’s secreting rather than hurrying to give another statement of the entire event to Hotch since the first one had apparently been too sparse on the details. 

A knock sounds on the open door. Spencer calls your name. 

“You in there?”

The angle of your neck has your voice slightly strained as you call back, “yeah, what’s up? Is it Hotch?” you pause to hiss as you accidentally scratch at the wound with a nail. You don’t even want to know how much bacteria you just introduced to it. “Tell him I didn’t forget our meeting, I’ll be there in—”

“It’s not Hotch. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay with your back? I know you said you were going to check on it, but you’ve been in there a while.”

You sigh, dropping your sore arm as you continue to hold up your shirt with the other and regarding the reflection of your back in the mirror. 

“Actually—could you come in here?”

There’s a pause. 

“You want me to come into the women’s restroom?”

“Yes, Spencer. It’s fine. There’s nobody else in here. I just… I need some help, I think.”

The last part is admitted quietly, with an air of defeat. To admit to needing help, is, by your standards, the same as failure. Spencer knows this, which is probably the only reason he puts aside his hesitations and shuffles uncertainly into the tiled room. If you’re asking for help, it’s because you really need it. 

“What do you need help with?” he asks, sweeping his gaze suspiciously around the lavatory as if you were lying about there not being any other women present and this whole thing might be a trap of some sort. 

“It’s gross, and you can totally say no.”

He raises his brows expectantly, before spotting the weeping wound on your back. Unconsciously he steps closer, leaning forward. It’s not your fault, and the gore is not specific to you—anyone’s body would react this way to being stabbed. But you still feel embarrassed by the close attention to such an ugly marring, which nobody besides you and your doctors has actually seen up close.

“That doesn’t look good,” he mutters. The expression on his face is irritatingly familiar—the drawn brows, tightened eyes, barely parted lips—but it takes a moment before you realize what it is. 

“Reid,” you complain. He’s still stooped over slightly to examine the wound, and looks up at you through dark lashes with those infuriatingly warm puppydog eyes.

“What?”

“You’re looking at me the way you look at a dead body on the slab.”

His nose scrunches.

Some might say it scrunches adorably. 

“No, I’m not. That’s just my face.”

“Okay, well stop. It’s freaking me out.”

He pouts—actually pouts. Subtle, but bottom lip jutted out and all. It’s ridiculously endearing. 

“My face freaks you out?”

“Wh—no! That’s not what I said! You have—you have a great face! I didn’t mean—” 

You manage to claw yourself out of the hole you’re digging when you see the dopey smile growing on his face. 

Oh. He was fucking with you. 

He never used to do that. It’s unnerving to be the fucked with instead of the fucker for a change. Especially when it’s Spencer. 

“What did you need me for?” Spencer asks by way of peace offering. You close your eyes and sigh, attempting to collect your thoughts without his presence re-scrambling them.  

“Um—I just need you to put this bandage over it. I can’t reach without taking my shirt off.”

And now you’re forced to wonder if he’s thinking about you shirtless as much as you’re thinking about you shirtless.

“Yeah—don’t do that,” he says absentmindedly, stepping again closer to get a better look before turning to the nearest sink.

For some reason, this offends you. 

“Why not?”

Spencer pulls another face as he washes his hands—you love the constant flow of expressions he always seems so unconscious of. Even when they’re not pleasant and directed at you.  

“Are you asking me why shouldn’t you take your shirt off?” he clarifies. 

“I know why I shouldn’t take my shirt off, but I want to know why you think I shouldn’t take my shirt off.”

“Because we’re at work?” he observes astutely. You frown deeply at his completely logical reply. Spencer chuckles as he dries his hands and approaches once more, taking the square of gauze pre-lined with medical tape from your hand. “I mean, I can’t stop you. But it would be kind of a weird choice.”

“Oh, so me shirtless is weird?”

Cool fingers meet the comparatively hot skin of your back—where everything is still sensitive because the wound wreaked havoc on your nerves there. You flinch slightly. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs gently. Though his touch is so incredibly light it doesn’t really hurt—it hurts much less than when you’re tending to the wound, anyway. It’s almost soothing. After a moment he continues, a bit louder. “And that is not what I was saying. But I am completely comfortable asserting that it would be weird for you to be shirtless at work.”

The gentle touches contrast with his teasing words and serve to disorient you as you’re shaken back in to your usual dynamic. Which is markedly more sarcastic. 

“Well—”

Before you have to think of something to say, Spencer interrupts you. 

“Your, um—I think your… brassiere… is in the way.”

As soon as he says it you burst out laughing. It echoes through the room. 

“My brassiere? Are you actually 70 years old?”

His brows knit even tighter and his face gets very pink very quickly. He can’t meet your eyes over your shoulder. 

“That’s what it’s called.”

“Spencer, you may be the first person to use that word since 1952. Say bra.”

“I don’t want to,” he complains. Your laughter only grows as your head tips back. 

“Why? How is brassiere better than bra?”

“It’s—it’s too colloquial! I’m trying to be professional!”

“Call it a bra or I’m going to rub my dirty hands all over my back,” you threaten, adopting a poker face so he knows you mean business. His eyes widen immediately. 

“Oh my god! Bra! Do you want to introduce staph and meningitis and g—do not do that!”

“See? How hard was that?”

“I hate you,” he mumbles, face still flushed and adorable. “And you still have to take it off.”

“Excuse me?” you grin, pretending to be affronted because you know he didn’t mean it like that but it’s fun to pretend he did. Fun for you, of course. Not so much for him. He's utterly flustered by this point.

“Or at least undo it! It’s in the way.”

With a deeply bored sigh, you go to unclasp your bra—but as you go to do it your shirt drops down. You grimace, humor briefly forgotten as the fabric brushes the damaged skin. 

“I can’t—”

“Okay, just—I’ll do it,” Spencer says. “Just move your shirt again.”

So you do, watching his reflection as he works.

And you have not one joke to break the heavy silence with as you feel his knuckles gently pressing into the middle of your back, as he unclasps the bra with his characteristic tenderness and a surprising amount of agility. It’s quiet except for your pulse in your own ears as he carefully pushes it out of his way, holding it down with a hand to your rib cage and fingertips slipping just under the fabric of your shirt—unintentionally and certainly non-sexual, no doubt, but skimming under your heart in a way that still feels so intimate you’re realizing how touch-starved you are. 

“You do that often?” you find yourself asking, because you’re stupid, and you need to cool the tension before it chokes you, and you can’t help yourself even though you don’t actually want to know the answer. 

“I,” he begins, voice quiet as rustling paper, tongue darting over his lip and eyes narrowed. The sentence stalls as he focuses on placing the patch just so. “Do not think that is an appropriate workplace question.”

Something aches in the pit of your stomach. 

Something resembling jealousy. 

It was not the timid evasive linguistic maneuver of someone who is insecure about the thing they’re discussing. It was not the awkward fumbling no but I don’t want to tell you that which you were expecting from Spencer Reid. 

Nor is it an easy yes—an admission between friends. He doesn’t want to tell you. 

You swallow and try to act like yourself. 

“Yet here you are, in the woman’s restroom at our place of employment, undoing my bra. I think we’re past professionalism.”

“When you decontextualize it like that it sounds like something it’s not. This is professional, because I’m helping you with a wound you sustained on the job. I’m being a good colleague.”

Your lips twist into a smile he can’t see. 

“A great colleague would kiss it better.”

“It's almost like you want me to file a sexual harassment complaint with HR," he says through a little smirk as he smooths the bandage over. Before you can snip back, he steamrolls over his own teasing—you’ve both been speaking in almost reverent tones since he started but his voice loses the sarcastic edge from a second before and reverts back to concerned and sweet. “Does that feel okay?”

You rotate your shoulders best you can without letting go of your shirt or flashing the good doctor to check if it feels secure.  

“It’s good. And hey—if I were going to sexually harass you I would do a lot better than that. You think that’s my best material? That’s just the tip of the iceberg. I keep so many inappropriate comments to myself. You’d be shocked by some of the things I have almost said to you.”

He laughs, secures the band of your bra and begins fitting it to the clasp you’d had it on—and at that precise moment Emily walks in. 

“H—woah.”

“It’s—I’m—I was helping her!” Spencer panics, immediately removing his hands from you like his palms are burning and holding them up defensively. 

“Oh, you helped me alright,” you tease, pulling your shirt back into place. 

“Don’t say it like that!” And then, to Emily, “I was changing out her bandage!”

“Changing my bandage,” you emphasize, winking more than is advisable. 

“That’s—this is a hostile work environment! I feel unsafe!” Spencer almost yells, half laughs, as he scampers towards the door. “I’m going to HR!”

“Shut up! You love it!”

His laughter audibly travels farther away for several moments as he presumably goes back down the hallway to do his actual job. 

You have the stupidest grin on your face, but you wipe it off when you notice Emily staring. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” she says, shaking her head and looking away, moving toward a stall. “You’re just… you guys are funny.”

“What do you mean funny?” You demand, standing right outside her stall as she closes it. 

“Wh—I mean funny! Are you going to listen to me pee, you weirdo?”

You frown. 

She makes a good point. 

Unfortunately, giving Hotch a more detailed statement is just as bad as you’d thought it’d be. Despite how cheery you’ve tried to remain about the whole situation, despite the way you insisted that the wound was so shallow you didn’t need more than a few days off work, despite the jokes you make about forgetting it’s even there because it’s on your back—it’s hard not to remember exactly how the glass felt twisting under your skin, how you’d felt suddenly so hot and lightheaded and sick to your stomach and the way Morgan hollered because he didn’t know how deep it had gone after you crumpled quick from shock, when you’re asked to describe it all in excruciating detail. 

It only takes ten minutes, but they seem to drag on and on and by the time you’re leaving Hotch’s office you feel utterly drained. You hurry back to your desk, covertly wiping away moisture that you refuse to allow to become tears. Once seated, and having dodged sympathetic looks and avoided any do you want to talk about its, you allow yourself a few deep breaths with your eyes shut. 

When you open them, you realize there’s a fresh cup of your favorite tea on your desk, in the Snoopy mug the team is always fighting over. Now his little black nose is covered by a square of yellow paper. You’re already smiling as you peel away the sticky note and hold it closer. 

On it is an adorably odd smiley-face, and a note in familiar, messy looping scrawl. 

I would never report you to HR beautiful

That would be a stab in the back!

You snort loudly and clap a hand to your mouth—but you’ve already drawn the attention of almost everyone in the bullpen. 

When you turn to look at Spencer, he’s not looking back. Instead, his eyes are firmly trained on his computer screen. But he’s got his chin propped on his fist over the desk, and his knuckles are doing a poor job of concealing a giant self satisfied grin. He is the only person on the team who knows you well enough to make such a distasteful joke. And he also knows you well enough to know that it would make you feel so much better after your meeting with Hotch than all the well-meaning sincerity in the world ever could.

Funny. 

Maybe that is the right word for what you two are. 

[amiableness]

Only Me

Pairing: Theo Nott x Reader

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

Word Count: 4184

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

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

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

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

Pansy grinned, “Even Nott?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s absolutely furious.

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

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

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

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

You look wrecked, and Theo despises it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure he felt that way?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[lavenderspence]

Bump Relief - S.R.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Content warning: fluff, pregnant reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: Making you comfortable while you're pregnant is his number one priority, so he decides to give JJ's little trick a try

Request: maybe Spencer hearing from JJ or reading somewhere that holding the baby bump relieves the mother and decides to try it on his girlfriend/wife? 

A/N: So a few days ago, I asked for short requests because I was dying to write something short. I sat down to write, and it got a little longer than I anticipated(I have no excuse). It's a known fact I can't write anything short, so I don't know why I try. I was going to post this tomorrow, but I really needed the serotonin I get from posting a fic, so enjoy! 

masterlist | requests are closed!

Spencer was twirling a pen between his fingers, deep in thought. All of his thoughts were about you because of course they were. 

He thought about you while he fell in love, proposed, and watched you walk down the aisle towards him. You occupied every waking moment when he wasn’t focused on his work, friends and mother, or hobbies. You were a constant in his life, and have been for years. 

But he’d been thinking about you a lot more in the last 6 months, and especially the last few days. About you, and the little angel.

At 34 weeks pregnant, you were glowing from the inside, just as beautiful as you’d been in your wedding dress. Or that’s what Spencer saw when he looked at you. 

But along with all the beauty of growing your little one came the few negatives, some of which he couldn’t help but notice too. How you hadn’t been wearing your wedding rings since the start of your third trimester. 

Or the light sheen of sweat on your brow just going up the stairs to your apartment. Or even the discomfort at the small of your back from carrying all the weight around. The small winces he heard coming from you, along with the scrunch in your eyes and nose. 

He wanted to take a part of your discomfort and bear it as his own. He’d watched you grow this little bean inside you for months, fight the morning sickness, and the only thing he’d been able to do was hold your hair and rub your back, watching as you suffered through it. 

Or the changes in your body, your clothes not fitting, or sometimes feeling like an outsider in your own skin. He’d been able to offer reassuring words, and kisses laid across your whole body, any point that sparked an insecurity in you - worshiped. 

He’d wake up in the middle of the night to satisfy your weird food cravings, or even the desire to have him as a snack. 

He’d been to every appointment with you - held your hand, wiped your tears, or kissed the crown of your head. You’d heard the heartbeat together, where he’d spoken in your ear, thankful to you for giving him the greatest gift of all to come in a few short months - being a dad. Something he’d wished for, for years, sometimes even thinking he’d never get to experience it. 

But that’s as far as he could help you and god, he wished he could do more. 

He didn’t hear JJ approaching and wasn’t even paying attention when she called his name out softly. And then again, and again. 

Snapping her fingers in front of his face worked like a charm though. 

“Yes?” He asked, after a light shake of his head to clear his thoughts. 

“Where’d you go Spence?” She leaned against his desk, giving his shoulder a small squeeze in support, “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Everything’s good,” He didn’t look or sound convincing, and watching JJ’s brow arch in question, he sighed, “Well, okay, not everything.” 

“What’s going on? Are Y/N and the baby okay?” She asked a frantic worry in her voice.

“They’re good and healthy,” Spencer confirmed, watching her let a sigh of her own. He decided then and there to seek her advice. She was his friend, and seeing as she’d been a mom twice now, she knew exactly what you were going through. 

“She’s been feeling uncomfortable, carrying the weight of the little bean around,” He smiled, simply mentioning his child softened everything within him, “And I see her trying not to show it that much, but it’s clearly exhausting her even more, and I wish there was something I could do to help, you know?” He sounded so small at that moment, rubbing his wedding band, feeling like he was failing you somehow. 

He knew that wasn’t possible, you told him daily how proud you were of him and everything he did and has done for you, but even now, he couldn’t help but worry sometimes. 

“Well, there’s this one thing that worked wonders for me when I was pregnant with Henry, and Michael too.” She started before she shared her little secret.

You breathed in deep, moving around yet again, and then exhaled a long breath. 

Your couch was one of the most comfortable things in the apartment - at least it had been before you’d started popping. Now it felt more like the most uncomfortable piece of furniture ever, but you knew that was just your inability to get comfortable - well, anywhere really. 

It was a struggle finding a way to feel good, but not like your baby was sitting on your bladder, or putting more pressure on your back than needed. You had roughly 6 more weeks to go, but you already felt about ready to pop. 

Your bean was grown in size - with a tall daddy like your husband, you weren’t even that surprised. You somehow knew that they’d take even more than his height - you hoped they’d inherit his best characteristics too. His love for learning, his calmness, and most of all his heart. Maybe his hair too - you loved his hair. And his smile. God you simply loved him.

You couldn’t wait for him to get home - the only time you felt like your whole body could relax was whenever he was with you, one hand or both thrown over your bump in a protective manner, talking to you and your baby quietly. 

You tried a few more times to get comfortable, a few different positions - leaning on your left, your right, or even with your back straight, and nothing worked.  

Another deep exhale left you and you simply gave up - lying on your back and praying for no uncomfortable sensations for at least a few minutes. 

Just as you felt your eyes droop - you wanted a few minutes to simply breathe - you felt a little kick to your left. It didn’t hurt, luckily for you, your little one seemed to be a pretty calm, small bundle so it wasn’t often any cry for attention left you rattled.

You did let out a little chuckle, rubbing the spot. As you rubbed at your stomach, small kick after small kick under your hand, you heard a key being inserted into the lock - the door opening and closing, keys rattling on the key hanger next to the door. 

“Sweetheart? Where are my girls?” He asked, as you heard the familiar sounds of him hanging his jacket and satchel, and taking off his shoes. You’d decided the gender would be a surprise, but Spencer insisted that it was a girl - you had a feeling he wanted to be a girl dad. 

You raised a hand, waving in the direction of the door, not wishing to move now, “We’re here, love.”

You didn’t attempt to push yourself up, you just stayed where you were, rubbing your belly and waiting for your husband to make his way over. 

Sure enough, just a few seconds later he was kneeling next to the couch close to your head, moving pieces of hair away from your face.

“Hi.” He whispered before he leaned down and laid a series of small kisses all over your face - one on each cheek, one on your forehead and nose, finishing with a gentle press of his lips against yours. It still made a small shiver run through you, just like it always did.

“Hi.” You returned when he pulled away, watching him as he leaned towards your belly then, kissing just next to where your hands were still sitting. A kick followed his kiss like your baby knew it was his daddy having returned from work. 

“Hi, little love.” It was his little nickname for them, and you loved it. You ran a hand through his hair then, soft and thick to the touch. 

With his hand sitting next to yours, wedding band gleaming in the light, he pulled you into another small kiss. His face was inches away from yours. 

“Can you stand up for a second, love?” He was whispering, content in keeping you three in a small bubble of touch and soft words. 

“Why?” It sounded like a whine, but in your defense, everything felt more comfortable than before now that he was there. 

His eyes softened then, understanding written all over his face, and a small smile on his slightly chapped lips too. 

“Just want to try something JJ suggested. Please? It’s going to feel good, I promise.” He kissed your brown in reassurance, and promise. 

You sighed again, allowing him to pull you up. 

“If I hate this, you have to go get me those super sour lemon candies from the candy store on the other side of town, okay?” You bargained with him. You’ve been craving those since last night, but he’d been going out on a limp for your every whim and you wanted to cool it for a day or two and allow him some time to breathe. 

He smiled softly, hand on your lower back, moving up and down. 

“Okay, sour lemon candy it is.”

“What are we doing again?” 

“Okay, I’m going to settle behind you, and I want you to lean your upper body against me, lay your head on my shoulder,” He instructed, moving behind you, hands on your hips just like he’d told you to do. His scent filled your nostrils, and you moved your head to the side to nuzzle his neck. He kissed your head, “Okay, now relax, and let me do all the work, yeah?” Again, soft, in a whisper. 

“What work -” You started before you felt his hands settle underneath your bump, holding onto it, and allowing the weight to fall on his hands instead of falling on you. You felt light like you were no longer carrying your little bean, but instead, it was safely nestled into his father’s arms. A half sigh-half moan left you, so relieved,  thankful in that moment, to JJ and to your husband. 

“Good?” He asked. Tears gathered in your eyes, so overwhelmed by the reprieve. You nodded, just a tiny bit choked up at that moment. 

“So, so good. Thank you.” You said, one hand moving to cup gently around his, face once again burying into his neck. You couldn’t believe the universe had granted you this man to be by your side for years to come. This dedicated, adorable, kindhearted man, and all his care. 

He rubbed his thumb against your bump, feeling your little girl kick against him, and he kissed your hair, holding you both, doing his very best to help in any way he could. Just like he always would. 

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