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unintentionalseductress · 7 months ago

Note

More spamming for LaDs, but spicy...

NSFW HCs: Favorite non-traditional space to enjoy a good romp other than a bed for each of the boys... and maybe why it is their favorite?

Unconventional Romp Spots

This took a while but here we are! Loved the creativity of this request and let's face it, all of them are down so bad for reader that they'll do whatever she wants. 🤭🤭🤭 Warnings: MDNI, exhibitionism, PIV sex, clit play

Zayne’s favorite spot to make love to you apart from the bed was the couch. Was it incredibly unconventional? Not really but the couch was firm and warm, the place you and he sat snuggled together during those rare times he wasn’t working, countless movies and snacks shared, and drinking your morning coffee in each other’s company.

So why shouldn’t it count as a perfectly good spot to make love?

Your fingers tangle into his silky locks of hair as he kisses you, his large body hovering carefully before he lays down, his hips now flush against yours as he sensually licks your lips before parting them with his tongue. A contented sigh escapes you as the wet appendage dances with yours, sending jitters of excitement running through you as you slip your hands under his shirt, enjoying the warmth and scent of his skin.

A hum emanates from his large frame as you reach the middle of his back, your nails scratching him just hard enough to send a rush of arousal skittering down his spine, heat gathering in his veins as he drinks in the sight of you, flushed and hazy, beneath him. You help each other remove the barriers of clothing, savoring the intimate skin-to-skin contact. You nuzzle his neck then trail a line of kisses down the side, watching his eyes darken with desire.

With care, he pulls off your bra, tossing it aside and kneeling, the low couch creaking slightly as it took your weight. The TV remote lay forgotten on the coffee table as Zayne swirls a hardened nipple into his hot, wet, mouth, sucking patiently. You cradle his head as pleasurable shocks zip straight to your core. Your clit throbs in need as he tweaks your free nipple between his fingers. You writhe and moan, your hips pressing against his to seek friction.

Expertly you undo the belt of his buckle and his zip, rocking your hands against the hard heat of his erection and he releases your nipple to groan needily, his eyes flashing dangerously. Not needing any further encouragement he slides your panties off your legs, his hand coming up to cup your mound and gathering the moist heat leaking from your core onto his fingers, spreading it up towards your clit. You’re helpless under him, his long, thick, middle finger sliding so teasingly into your core while his thumb circles the little bundle of nerves.

Sighs and longing moans of need escape you as he builds up your arousal, those keen eyes watching your face for signs of your impending climax, and when you finally begin to clamp down with that familiar pattern onto his fingers, he crooks his inserted finger up into that spongy patch of delight. You erupt, a wavering moan escaping your lips as the orgasm rips through you, your clit and core spasming in pleasure around him. He pulls out his fingers, licking them clean before aligning himself between your legs.

You awkwardly part them, trying to find a comfortable angle on the narrow space of the sofa before he grabs you by the ankles and wraps your legs securely around his waist before entering you in one, long, passionate, stroke. The air grows balmy as his hips undulate, the fill of him inside you bringing all your primal needs to the surface. Your nails leave scratches on his back, and your eyes close as the sound of his ragged breathing overtakes your senses. Your eyes meet and you stroke his face, gently tracing the outline of his lips, caressing the corners of his eyes before he gathers your close, his grip leaving indents in your skin as he gives all of himself to you.

Oh, this sweet-looking man is the wolf in sheep’s clothing. He won’t hesitate to take you anywhere, anytime. His unconventional spot is his desk at the office. He loves how naughty it makes him feel.

It’s past office hours and everyone has gone home, but Xavier had been making excuses to get you to stay late since lunch. Now, finally alone he boxes you in against his desk, your body blocked from escaping by his tall frame. His gloved hands shamelessly slide under your hunter’s uniform as he gropes your tits, palming the mounds of flesh possessively, satisfaction coursing through his veins as your nipples harden under his palms. His tongue traces hot trails down your neck as you squirm against him, feeling hardness gather between his thighs.

You whimper as his teeth scrape the front of your throat, your blood humming in your ears. Xavier undoes the buttons and buckles on the uniform and your clothes slide to the floor, leaving you in bra and panties. A stain of moisture has gathered on the crotch and Xavier’s sapphire eyes become luminous with hunger at the sight.

“I’m guessing you’re just pretending when you say you don’t like me taking you at the office.” He helps you hop onto the desk and then kneels between your thighs, his nose brushing against the smear, inhaling the musky scent of need leaking from your core. He pulls apart your legs, helping you balance your feet at the edge of the desk then hooks his finger into the gusset of your panties, pulling them to the side and giving you a teasing lick that makes your hips thrust up.

Xavier chuckles and sticks his tongue into your moist hole and you moan, the noise escaping into the quietness of the office, only seeming to sound louder than when it was full. Lewd slurping noises can be heard as Xavier goes to town, sucking every drop of your essence he can find, his tongue drawing circles over your sensitive bud as your hips instinctively rock against his mouth. Xavier’s cock throbs painfully inside his slacks as he steadily builds your orgasm, your every movement and noise only adding fuel to the fire. He frees one hand from it’s glove and probes your entrance, watching your fluttering hole suck his fingers in, clenching with desire around the long digits.

Every nerve in your body is begging for release, your head turning to one side, seeing all the empty desks of your colleagues, none of whom will have a clue of what happened on the desk next to them when they get in the next morning. The thought causes heat to gather in your belly, your abdominal muscles tightening in anticipation until Xavier pushes you over the peak, your breath tearing from your throat as you gasp out in ecstasy, pulse after pulse of satisfying pleasure flooding your senses.

Xavier licks his fingers clean then quickly undoes his pants, his cock finally springing free of its confines, leaking precum on its tip. He guides himself towards your warm, wet, cunt, gently splitting you apart as he fills you up. The stretch of muscle is welcoming, and he rolls your knees onto your chest, making you impossibly tighter around him as he starts to thrust.

As the air fills with your quiet whimpers, he sighs and settles into a comfortable rhythm, ensuring he bottoms out each time, dragging his length along your inner walls as he withdraws.

“Maybe next time we should do this on Tara’s desk instead of mine. Imagine her look of confusion when she comes in and sees all her paperwork is stained.”

The beach. He enjoys the noise of the water lapping onto the sand as he pulls you away to a hidden spot on the sandy dunes. Was it really his fault that you wore that sexy little bikini, the one that showed just enough of your sweet ass and lacked just enough support that it didn’t prevent your boobs from jostling around when you walked?

Surrounded by a craggy wall of privacy, his eyes glitter mischievously as he squeezes every part of your body, enjoying the way your face becomes flushed and your kisses become sloppier as he teases your nipples through the bikini top, the peaks visible and hard. He grins unashamedly as you stretch out on your stomach on the beach blanket he’s laid out, and starts to undo the knot at your back. His lips kiss the back of your neck and trail down your sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine with each touch. You’re humming lazily, then roll over to expose your breasts to him, sand dotting your collarbones and belly.

Rafayel dips his head and suckles a pert nipple, groaning. “Oh, you’re all salty babe…from swimming in the ocean. Oh delicious…” He switches to the other one, savoring the taste of the salt and your skin as you moan and reach over to palm him through his swimming trunks. He’s rock hard and throbbing as you stroke his erection and his hips snap forward with each movement of your small hand.

The sound of the waves crashing down onto the shore and the call of the seagulls disguise the moans and noises of sweet pleasure the both of you are making as Rafayel hooks a finger into the elastic of your bikini bottom and pulls it down. The ocean breeze caresses your body and goosebumps erupt all over your skin. Rafayel chuckles and covers your body, his warmth seeping comfortingly into you as your hands tickle down his back, leaning up to give him unhurried kisses down his happy trail. Unable to hide your enthusiasm anymore, you loosen the drawstring of his swim shorts, tugging down the fabric and freeing his hard meat. It pops up proudly, leaking droplets at the tip.

You swirl your tongue generously around it and Rafayel bucks almost delicately into your mouth, the moist heat welcome against the chill of the air. He clicks his tongue in dismay as you let go but surprise him by rolling him under you, and quickly changing positions so that your pussy was tantalizingly visible over his face. You go back to eagerly slurping his generous length and feel the wet slip of his tongue lick a hot stripe along your cunt and hum in gratification as he hits your clit. He tasted salty too, and you suck on his tip like a lollipop trying to fit as much of him into your mouth as you could. Saliva drips from your mouth and onto the crevices of his thighs as you pleasure each other. You let out a keening moan, muffled by his cock as he inserts two fingers into your fluttering hole and starts petting your gspot. Your hips rock against his face and when his lips seal over your clit your concentration slips, his cock falling from your mouth as you rest your cheek on his thigh and writhe, all your inhibitions flying loose.

The relentless actions of his tongue and fingers bring you to a satisfactory orgasm, the punch of ecstasy pulsing through you as your fingers find purchase in the sand, bracing yourself and letting out shuddering whines as you ride the dizzying high.

Rafayel laps at the fluid leaking from your core, and the feeling jolts you into needing more, the clenching of your cunt almost becoming unbearable. You scramble off his face, resting on your knees as you drag your pussy down his chest, then tease his swollen cockhead with your drooling hole. Rafayel hisses at the sensitivity and before you could react he thrusts his hips and sheathes himself inside you.

Full and in a haze of need, you ride him, feeling his hands firmly grasp your fleshy ass, gently prying apart your cheeks as you bounced so that he can see the way your hole slides over him, enveloping him in that sweet essence.

“Ahh fuck…” Rafayel’s thrusts get sloppy as the slap of skin on skin gets more urgent, your moans mingling in the salty air as you push him to the edge. Rafayel grits his teeth as your pussy spasms around him, milking him dry as he unloads, his milky seed flooding your channel like sea foam washing up on the sand.

It excites Sylus to take you on his private balcony. It’s just secluded enough not to give away everything that's happening but open enough that a passerby might hear or see something they weren’t expecting. The excitement is enough to get his blood pumping, a heady rush swooshing through his body as his head fills with illicit thoughts on how to get you to lose control.

“Sylus please…” You whine helplessly as his head buries itself between your parted thighs, his tongue licking a sinfully pleasurable line from your dripping hole up to your clit. Your hands grip the railing as you moan into the open air while he crouches, a powerful jaguar that wasn’t going to leave you until he’s had his fill. The dim lights of the N109 zone surround you, passing cars and the faint noise of the few people that dared to walk on the streets breaching the edges of your senses.

His hot tongue pushes into your dripping hole and your legs wobble from the heady rush of desire that surges through you. Sylus’s chuckle is muffled and he withdraws, only to replace his tongue with his long, thick fingers. You lean over the edge, trying to steady yourself and Sylus firmly wraps his arms around your middle.

“Please what kitten?” He curls his fingers up into your gspot and pops of color appear behind your closed eyelids as you twitch, your ass jiggling as you dance on his fingers. The air is punctuated with broken moans and Sylus’s eyes gleam in satisfaction at your broken state. “That’s not nearly loud enough. You’ll need to mewl harder than that to even be heard over the traffic.” He gives a teasing lick to your clit and watches your hips jerk. The puffy folds of your sex are leaking copiously, coating his fingers with your slick.

How delightful to have you at his mercy, to have the whole N109 zone hear the pretty noises you made for him, to establish his dominance everywhere. Sylus nuzzles his nose in between your sex, inhaling the sweet musk of your pussy and you reflexively push against him. “This smell when you get so needy for me…it’s intoxicating.” Caged between Sylus and the balcony you’re helpless to do anything else but accept his kisses and licks, feeling him swirl the tip of his tongue on your clit while his fingers work inside you to bring you over the edge.

When your orgasm finally peaks you sob, your body shaking uncontrollably, all thoughts of not being discovered flying out of the window as pleasure pulses through your body. You bear down on his face, pleasing him immensely as you ride out the dizzying spiral of delight. Once you calm down, Sylus gets to his feet, then to your shock, roughly yanks open the front of your blouse, your tits open to the night air. The taboo of the act brings forth a surge of fresh arousal as he palms the mounds of flesh and you hear the soft noise of a zipper being opened. His cock pushes apart your folds, the engorged head notching into your messy opening and filling your empty canal. You choke out a desperate sound, lost to the noise of the city, but more follow as he thrusts smoothly, his hardened meat kissing your cervix with each stroke.

He offers you his finger and you suck on it for comfort, whining your muffled pleasure as he continues the mutual gratification.

“That’s a good kitten. Keep purring for me, sweetie.”

@theimmortalbuns @otomegamesforlife @sweets-kozume

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monicfever · 2 months ago

Note

dd n punisher characters with a hypersexual/overly hormonal reader? of course if you're not comfortable with this type of stuff you don't have to write <3

hypersexual!reader 𝜗𝜚 daredevil & punisher hc’s

r e q u e s t e d ♡

characters used ᝰ .ᐟ matt murdock / frank castle / foggy nelson / karen page / elektra / ben poindexter / billy russo / dinah madani / james wesley / muse

⏜︵ MATT MURDOCK. 𐂯

matt pretends to be unbothered by how forward you are, but he absolutely notices every suggestive comment, every lingering touch, every flirtation. it always gets under his skin more than he lets on. he’ll smile that smug little half-smile, tilt his head like he’s trying to read you, and say something like, “you really don’t hold back, do you?” — but it’s always a little breathless.

he’s always listening. you think you’re being sneaky when you touch yourself in the other room, but matt hears everything. every breath, every rustle of sheets, every quiet whimper. it drives him insane. he’ll usually let you keep going for a while (just to hear it). eventually he’ll show up in the doorway, arms crossed: “having fun?” and the moment you smile at him, it’s over.

he likes the chase. you being constantly turned on doesn’t bother him, but he enjoys making you wait. you’ll try to crawl into his lap when he’s doing paperwork or patching himself up, but he’ll smirk and say, “you want something?” like he doesn’t already know.

he has rules, but you’re the exception. matt tries to set boundaries. “no distractions before patrol.” “not while we’re in public.” “not when i’m bleeding.” yet, somehow, your lips on his neck or your hand creeping under his shirt makes him forget every one of them. you’ll hear him groan out, “you’re gonna be the death of me.” while pulling you closer.

you fluster him more than he’ll admit. you’ve whispered things to him in church before. at nelson & murdock while foggy’s in the other room. across a dinner table while he's pretending to focus. every time, you catch the faint pink in his cheeks, the way he adjusts his posture like he’s suddenly uncomfortable in his skin. “you’re incorrigible.” he’ll mutter. and then he’ll kiss you like he’s punishing you for it.

sometimes, when you’re being especially over-the-top — dropping innuendos in public, texting him filthy things while he’s in court — he’ll give you that warning tone. quiet, dangerous, voice low and right at your ear.

when you’re feeling particularly needy, he’s infuriatingly good at switching the roles. “oh, now you want my attention?” he’ll murmur, catching your wrists as you crawl into his lap. “you seemed just fine earlier.” he knows exactly how to drag it out until you’re the one begging, and when he does finally give in, it’s intense, focused, and a little overwhelming in the best way.

aftercare means a lot to him, even if you’re the one instigating all the time. he’ll kiss your shoulder, your knuckles, the top of your head. he’ll ask, “you okay?” even if you’re giggling and glowing. “again? insatiable.”

on a heavier note, sometimes your intensity stirs something deeper in him. his own guilt, his conflict between pleasure and penance. there are moments when he’ll gently pull back, not to reject you, but to steady himself.

sometimes he worries he’s not enough. he knows you’re intense, that your needs don’t exactly quiet down. even though he’s more than capable of keeping up, there are nights where he wonders if he can keep satisfying you.

⏜︵ FRANK CASTLE. 𐂯

notices everything. every suggestive glance, every teasing touch, every time you slide up beside him wearing next to nothing. he won’t always react — not right away — but you’ll catch the slight tilt of his head, the shift in his breathing. he’s got that stillness that says don’t push me unless you mean it. and you always mean it.

he’s not one for words, especially not when it comes to sex. so when you’re being flirty, constantly on him, slipping innuendos into everyday conversation, he mostly just hums or raises a brow. when he does speak, it’s in that rough voice — something like, “you keep talkin’ like that, you’re gonna find out how far i’ll take it.”

he holds back for a while. you’re always testing the line, always touching, always turning things suggestive. he plays it cool at first, lets you push and push. once he gives in, he doesn’t hold back. it’s intense, fast, physical — he grabs, lifts, pins. after he’s quiet again. catching his breath. wiping his hand down his face like you’ve just unraveled him.

tries not to act like he cares about how much you want him, but the truth is it gets to him. you wanting him like that, so openly, so often; it gets to him. there’s something healing in it, something anchoring. sometimes when you’re curled up next to him afterward, he’ll press a kiss to your forehead and murmur, “you’re trouble.”

he doesn’t judge. never once makes you feel like you’re too much. your neediness, your teasing, your constant desire doesn’t scare him, doesn’t annoy him. if anything, it pulls him in. you’re real, alive, shameless about what you want. frank’s been in the dark too long not to be drawn to that kind of light.

he tries to ignore you when he’s focused, but you are relentless. sitting in his lap while he’s working on something. whispering, “wanna take a break?” with your fingers ghosting over his chest. he doesn’t look at you at first — keeps his hands busy — but his jaw tenses and his breath slows, like he’s trying to pray his way through it. “i’m tryin’ to get this done.” he’ll rasp. you smirk, “i’m trying to get you done.”

he doesn’t like being teased when he’s busy, so when you push him too far, pressing against him while he’s fixing something or whispering filthy things in his ear when he’s trying to clean a gun - - he’ll give you a warning. just a look. if you ignore it? he shuts the whole world out and shows you exactly what happens when you don’t listen.

when you’re being dramatic about needing him, he’ll act annoyed, but deep down it kills him in the sweetest way. “frank,” you’ll whine from across the room, “i’m bored and horny and you’re ignoring me.” and he’ll sigh like you’re exhausting — but then walk over and manhandle you into his arms without a word. picks you up and lays you out like he’s been waiting for you to ask.

he worships your body in private. all that heat and teasing you throw at him gets returned in full once he’s got you alone. he takes his time, holds you still, tells you exactly what he’s going to do in that deep, steady voice. “you want this?” he’ll ask, even though he already knows.

but he’s also so soft after. runs his thumb along your cheekbone like he’s checking you’re real. presses a kiss to your shoulder, your forehead, the curve of your hip.

⏜︵ FOGGY NELSON. 𐂯

he is constantly flustered. like. constantly. you’ll say something absolutely filthy with a straight face while he’s drinking his morning coffee and he’ll choke every time. stammering, red in the face, eyes wide. “you — you can’t just say that while i’m holding hot liquid!”

he brags to matt. not in detail (he’s respectful, okay), but he definitely walks around with that post-you glow, hair messy, tie a little crooked, sipping coffee like he’s untouchable. matt raises a brow. foggy just shrugs. “what can i say? i’m being thoroughly appreciated.” — casually mentions to karen that he “had a very energetic weekend” while sipping his fourth cup of coffee.

he pretends to be shocked, but he loves it. he lives for it. he’ll say things like “you are so inappropriate” while his hand is already on your waist, pulling you closer. he’s not fooling anyone, not with that little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

he loves making you feel good. your neediness doesn’t put him off, he’s just thrilled to be the one you want. he takes his time with you. he listens. and when you’re breathless under him, gripping the sheets and begging for more? he looks at you like you hung the stars.

you make him feel like a king. you’re bold about it. you want him, loudly and often, and foggy melts. literally melts. “you want me that bad?” he asks, half in disbelief, half smug. and when you say yes without hesitation? he gets that cocky little glint in his eyes.

you make him nervous in the best way. like, this is a guy who can argue a courtroom into submission, but the second you lean in at the office and whisper something filthy in his ear, he loses all ability to function.

public teasing turns him into a mess. you run your hand along his thigh under the table, whisper dirty things while you’re walking beside him, and he’s just trying to not combust. “can you not?” he hisses through a grin, but there’s no real protest. he’s into it.

he calls you a menace all the time. lovingly. half-scold, half-swoon.

he tries to retaliate. he’ll flirt back. maybe even whisper something filthy of his own, thinking he’s got you now. you double down. he immediately regrets it in the best way. “okay, okay, you win,” he laughs, hands up. “you’re dangerous.”

he’s an aftercare king. gets you water, fluffs your pillow, runs a bath. holds you close while you both come down. if you so much as hint at being ready for another round he’ll fake-complain (“you’re trying to kill me!”) while already kissing down your neck.

when he tries to keep up with you, it’s adorable. you’ll say something filthy and he’ll try to match you with a slick comeback; but the timing’s off, or he blushes halfway through, and it just ends up being the cutest thing you’ve ever heard.

he’s a cuddler with no shame. after you’ve exhausted him (and let’s be honest, you do), he’s all tangled limbs and sleepy kisses. “you’re insane,” he mumbles, burying his face in your shoulder. “i love it. don’t stop.” his voice is warm, a little hoarse, completely smitten.

he can’t keep secrets. not real ones. if he’s been thinking about you all day, he’ll tell you. “you left me like that this morning and expected me to go to work like a functioning adult?” he texts you during court. you send back a selfie in something slightly obscene. he slams his phone face-down on the desk and mutters “i’m in hell” with a dazed smile.

“no more sending suggestive photos while i’m at lunch with matt’s priest friend.”

he loves you exactly the way you are. loud, needy, bold, inappropriate — he eats it up.

⏜︵ KAREN PAGE. 𐂯

she tries to be professional. she’ll be typing up a story, dead focused, and then you saunter in, leaning over her chair, whispering something that should absolutely be illegal. her jaw tenses, her eyes stay on the screen. “i’m working.” but she’s already shifting in her seat, biting her lip.

she has a secret mouth. when she wants to, she’ll say something so filthy it stuns you into silence. usually in a whisper. close to your ear. “you gonna beg for it, or just keep looking at me like that?” and then she just waits. calm. still. eyes on you, daring you to do something about it.

you flirt like it’s breathing, kiss like it’s urgent, touch like you need her; it leaves her reeling. she’ll try to keep her cool but you’ll catch the way she exhales a little too hard, or stares at your mouth a second too long.

she teases right back. once she’s comfortable with you, you’re in trouble. she’ll wait until you’re the one trying to focus, then lean in and say something devastating in that soft, matter-of-fact voice. “if you keep looking at me like that, we’re not making it to dinner.” and then just walk away. smirking.

but you also unravel her. she’s used to bottling things up, being composed. you’re all touch and need and hunger and affection. it pulls something raw out of her. when you’re whispering her name, clawing at her shirt, telling her how good she makes you feel, she loses her edge.

she’s fiercely attentive. your hypersexuality doesn’t scare her, doesn’t make her pull away. if anything it makes her want to understand you better. know your needs, meet them fully, love you through it. she’ll read you like a book — figure out exactly what makes you tick — and then use it.

she absolutely uses your energy to distract you. when she wants your attention, she’ll give you that look, chin tilted, eyes sharp, and say something devastating in a calm voice. “get over here.” and suddenly you’re the one undone, aching and obedient.

she knows when you’re trying to seduce her and lets you. she’ll play along like she’s unfazed, arms crossed, head tilted. “you think you’re being subtle?” she’ll say while you’re practically crawling into her lap. but the slight twitch at the corner of her mouth? the way her eyes darken just a little? yeah, you’ve already won.

she does not shy away from intimacy. your neediness doesn’t embarrass her, it draws her in. she’s not here to shame you or play coy. she wants to be wanted like that. to be touched like she matters. when she gets overwhelmed, she clings. yeah, you’re the hypersexual one — but when she finally lets go, she gets wrapped up in it too. hands in your hair, lips on your throat, whispering your name like it’s the only thing that matters.

she absolutely teases you in public. she’ll press up behind you at the grocery store, whisper something obscene with the most innocent look on her face, then walk off like nothing happened. you’re the one standing there stunned, clutching a box of cereal like it just said something inappropriate.

gets handsy when she’s tired. maybe it’s after a long day, maybe it’s when she’s half-asleep on the couch, but her hands start wandering, slow and lazy and full of intention.

⏜︵ ELEKTRA. 𐂯

absolutely thinks it’s amusing. from the start, she watches you with that signature, smug little smile every time you throw yourself at her like a live wire. her eyes are dark, hungry, like she’s daring you to want her more.

she matches your energy with terrifying ease. you flirt to fluster — she flirts to destroy. you say something filthy and she just smiles, leans in, and whispers something ten times worse in your ear while touching you exactly where it counts.

you don’t scare her. she welcomes all of it. feeds off of it. where others might pull away, elektra leans into it. and when you beg? her grin gets sharp.

she teases you to the edge of madness. she’ll touch you under the table during dinner, drag her nails over your thighs when you’re trying to focus, kiss your jaw and say, “you’ll behave, won’t you?” in public — knowing damn well you won’t. she wants you to break. that’s the game. taunts you when you’re needy. you’ll whine, cling, kiss her like you’re begging for something, and she’ll laugh — low and wicked. “you’ll have to earn it.” she’ll purr, dragging her fingers down your back.

she owns the aftermath. after you’ve lost your mind on her, desperate and clinging, she turns soft. unexpectedly so. hands gentle, voice low, fingers brushing your hair back as she says, “look at you. i do love how pretty you are when you fall apart.”

she lives for your attention. she won’t admit it, at least not easily, but the way you’re always reaching for her, needing her, dragging her in like you’re starving for her? it feeds something in her. reminds her she’s wanted.

she doesn’t believe in moderation. so you being constantly touchy, constantly turned on? she meets it with equal force. doesn’t ask why you want her again, just laughs, low and cruel, “on your knees, then.” like it’s the most obvious answer in the world.

she gets mean when she’s turned on. in that smirking, dominant, slightly dangerous way. “what’s the matter, sweetheart?” she’ll say when you’re writhing under her, voice honey-sweet and mocking. “this is what you wanted, isn’t it? all that begging…”

she tests how far you’ll go. she’ll push you in public, press a hand between your thighs under the table, kiss your neck just a little too long, and ask in your ear, “going to behave, or make a scene?” and when you shiver, grip her wrist, beg for more — that’s when she grins like the devil. “that’s what i thought.”

watches you like prey. doesn’t matter how many times you’ve kissed, or how many times you’ve begged her to take you apart, she always looks at you like she’s deciding where to sink her teeth next. you flirt with her in front of someone else? challenge her in that low voice? she’ll take you home and ruin you.

when you come onto her in a bad mood she melts. she could be fresh off a mission, furious, bloodied, but you crawling into her lap and saying, “let me help”? she softens instantly. not in a weak way, in a worshipful way. like your desire grounds her.

⏜︵ BEN POINDEXTER. 𐂯

at first, he doesn’t know what to do with you. you flirt like it’s breathing, kiss him like it’s urgent, touch him in casual greedy little ways that short-circuit his brain. he tries to act normal, tries to hold himself together, but you catch him clenching his jaw, fingers twitching, chest rising a little too fast.

he gets obsessed fast. the second he realizes how much you want him — how openly, constantly, shamelessly — you flip some hidden switch in him. he wants more. needs it. suddenly he’s tracking your every move, memorizing the way you kiss him, the way you look at him like he’s the only thing on your mind.

he follows instructions like they’re oxygen. “sit.” “stay still.” “hands behind your back.” you say it, and he does it. instantly. without blinking. it’s instinct at this point — his body reacting before his mind catches up. the second he obeys, he’s looking up at you, waiting for approval, wide-eyed and aching for your praise.

he’s dangerous when you rile him up too far. you flirt too much, grind against him when he’s trying to behave, whisper something filthy in his ear when you’re supposed to be focused, and he snaps. drags you somewhere private, presses you against the wall, and just takes. it’s quiet, intense, almost reverent. “you drive me crazy.” he groans, forehead to yours.

he doesn’t know how to handle being needed. you tell him you want him — again and again and again — and it undoes him. makes him shaky. makes him cling. sometimes after you’ve worn each other out, he just holds you too tight and buries his face in your neck. like he’s afraid if he lets go, it’ll all disappear.

he gets flustered in the cutest, darkest way. you say something explicit and he freezes — eyes dark, jaw clenched, pulse ticking in his neck. he doesn’t laugh it off or blush. he stares. silently. like he’s deciding how many rules he’s willing to break right now. spoiler: it’s all of them.

he’s so good at ruining you in return. the minute you start pushing him he gives it back, tenfold. pins your wrists. makes you beg. says nothing for most of it, just stares at you like you’re the most perfect thing he’s ever seen. when you come undone he whispers, “look at you… look at what you let me do.”

your neediness makes him feel safe. he doesn’t always say it. but knowing you want him that much? that openly? it quiets the noise. the guilt. the rage. he touches you like you’re salvation. holds you after like you’re the only thing keeping him on the edge of sanity. you are.

he spirals when you tease him and then act innocent. you’ll straddle his lap, whisper something obscene, kiss his neck, then just walk away like it didn’t happen. dex sits there, frozen, jaw clenched, staring at the wall like he’s trying not to snap a pencil in half. by the time he finds you again, he’s feral. “you think this is a game?”

he thrives when you lose control. the moment your composure cracks — the moment you beg, or whimper, or grab at him like you can’t take it anymore — his whole demeanor shifts. his lips curl into this possessive little smirk.

he's insatiable once you’ve broken the seal. if he’s gone too long without touching you he gets ravenous. rough, shaky hands. kisses that don’t stop. taking you again and again, like he’s trying to make up for all the hours he went without you.

he doesn’t know how to take it when you praise him. he stares at you like he doesn’t know how to absorb it. like part of him doesn’t believe he deserves that softness. but he needs it. and when you say it again, gentler this time, he kisses you like he’ll die without it. he adores being praised. when you tell him he’s good, or strong, or perfect, his whole body trembles, just a little. his breath catches. it’s like he’s hearing it for the first time, every time, and it shakes him to his core. “you like that, don’t you?” you’ll tease. and he’ll look at you with this raw, desperate expression. “say it again,” he’ll whisper, voice hoarse, “please.”

he gets needy in the best way. the more you touch him, the more you praise him, the more desperate he becomes. the man who usually has all the control suddenly becomes weak for you. he’s a mess when you praise him during sex. when you tell him he’s good in bed, that he’s making you feel good — that’s when he absolutely falls apart. his hands go slack, his body goes rigid, and he’ll mumble, “don’t stop.” over and over. every word that spills from your mouth is like a drug, and it’s ruining him in the best way possible.

he loves when you take control. push him down. tell him not to move. give him orders like you expect them to be followed — because he wants to follow them. he wants to earn your touch, your words, your love. when he gets it he’s panting, melting, gripping the sheets like it’s the only thing keeping him from floating away.

his obedience isn’t about power — it’s about love. he doesn’t kneel for you because he’s weak. he kneels because he trusts you. because he knows that when you give him orders, you’ll also give him affection. and that means everything to him.

⏜︵ BILLY RUSSO. 𐂯

tries to be cocky about it at first. smirking while you straddle him, talking shit like, “gonna take what you want, baby?” but the second you actually do — grab his wrists, grind down, whisper “be good for me” — his whole body shudders. the smirk fades. his jaw clenches. and he’s whispering, “fuck… okay. okay.”

he gets jealous of your attention. not just who you give it to — but when you withhold it. you tease him, flirt then walk away, or spend more time on your phone than in his lap, and he’s immediately pressing up behind you, voice low: “what, you done using me already?”

you catch him off guard constantly. dragging him into the nearest room, climbing into his lap during meetings, whispering something unholy while he’s trying to concentrate. and he plays it cool, sure — but the way he grips the edge of the table or clenches his jaw? oh, he’s losing it.

he becomes so obedient under the right pressure. you tell him stay still and he does. every muscle tight, breathing uneven, eyes locked on you like he’s waiting for his next instruction. he looks cocky, but that tension in his body? that’s need. he wants your praise. needs your permission.

he thrives off your desire. knowing you want him all the time, that you’re always thinking about him — it makes him feel powerful. desired. worshipped. he’ll tease you for it —“you really can’t keep your hands off me, huh?”

but the more you want him, the more needy he becomes. it stops being a game and starts being obsession. now he’s the one touching you constantly, dragging you into bed at all hours, whispering, “just one more time, baby. can’t stop thinking about you.”

he’ll let you use him. no ego, no fight — just “tell me what to do.” if you’re extra desperate, pulling at his clothes and grinding on him like you’ll lose your mind without it, he lets you take it. lets you pull his belt loose and ride him breathless. hands on your thighs, eyes locked on you like you’re holy.

he melts for praise but tries to hide it. you call him good and he lets out this shaky breath, head dropping back, hands fisting the sheets. “fuck,” he whispers, like he’s embarrassed at how much it affects him. you tease him for how much he likes it. “look at you,” you’ll purr, dragging your nails down his chest, “mr. billy russo. ceo. soldier. killer. begging for my approval.” and he groans. because yeah. he is. and when you call him your pretty boy, your sweet thing, your favourite toy — he thrives. eats it up. all of it. he follows instructions so, so well. you train him without even meaning to. tell him how to touch you. when to stay still. where to put his hands. he gets desperate for your praise. he’ll push himself to the edge trying to make you feel good, looking up at you like a starved thing. “you feel good?” he pants.

he wants you to ruin him. not physically — emotionally. he wants you to strip him down. take all the masks off. make him yours in a way no one else ever has. when you say, “mine,” and grip his chin so he has to look at you? his body goes limp. he nods, quiet, obedient.

he’s competitive about keeping up. you want it again? again? oh, he’s rising to the challenge. he won’t back down — won’t let you think for one second he can’t handle it. but by round five, he’s on his back, breathless, hair damp, muttering, “jesus christ— what are you trying to do to me?”

he starts scheduling around your sex drive. literally moves meetings, delays calls, closes his office door and texts you a simple: now. and when you show up already knowing what he wants? he just leans back in his chair, unbuttons his shirt, and smirks — “i knew you couldn’t resist.”

but the second you get needy? oh, he crumbles. you press up against him, whine a little, tell him how bad you want him — and suddenly the smug façade shatters. he’s flustered, hands already on your hips, murmuring, “yeah? tell me what you need, baby. i’ll give you everything.”

he keeps things on him just in case. backup condoms. lube in his desk drawer. a change of clothes. because he knows you — knows you’re unpredictable, insatiable, always two seconds from crawling into his lap and making him lose every ounce of professionalism he has left.

he talks a big game but loses it so fast. he’ll say shit like “you gonna ride me like you mean it?” or “hope you can handle what you’re asking for”— and then you do, and suddenly he’s gasping, clutching at you, swearing under his breath like his whole body’s going haywire.

your appetite breaks his composure. you get him worked up in public, and suddenly mr. smooth-talker is stammering. distracted. flustered. he’ll pull you aside, grab your face, and growl, “you need to stop or i’m gonna fuck you in the nearest locked room.” (spoiler: you don’t stop.)

⏜︵ DINAH MADANI. 𐂯

slow mornings where you can’t keep your hands off her while she’s brushing her teeth, trying to read case files, trying to drink her coffee — she doesn’t stop you, just mutters “insatiable” with a smirk. late nights on the couch with your legs tangled over hers, your fingers tracing the scar on her side, whispering everything you want to do to her — she listens quietly, then pulls you into her lap.

you call her detective when you're being flirty — she pretends to be annoyed, but the flush in her cheeks always gives her away.

she’s the calm to your fire, but when she snaps, when she lets go — you learn that she’s been holding back so much more than you thought. your need for touch grounds her; sometimes it’s the only thing that pulls her out of her head after a long day.

she’s not overly verbal during sex, but you are — and she loves it. loves how uninhibited you are, how you make her feel wanted in a thousand ways. sometimes she doesn’t say anything at all — just looks at you with that heavy gaze, hands on your hips, and you know exactly what she needs.

you send her texts during work: i need you, thinking about your hands, wear that button-down tonight — she leaves you on read, but always shows up exactly how you want.

she’s the type to make you wait. edge you for hours just because you’ve been too much all day and she wants to remind you who’s in control.

she sets boundaries with you early on — not because she wants distance, but because she knows your appetite could swallow her whole if she let its “you don’t get to touch me just because you’re needy,” she says, low and measured, her hand firm on your wrist — but she never pushes you away, not really.

she gives you rules. no touching without asking. no teasing when she’s on the phone. and god help you if you break them — she doesn’t yell, she disciplines. when you push too far, she doesn’t lose her temper — she goes cold, calculated. “take your hands off me. now. you don’t get me when you’re acting like a brat.” she uses your hypersexuality to train you — gets in your head, turns your hunger into obedience.

you test her constantly, and she lets you — up to a point. then it’s “knees. now.” and you’re on the floor before your brain can catch up. she loves that you want her all the time — but she makes sure you need her on her terms, not yours.

⏜︵ JAMES WESLEY. 𐂯

he’s amused by how needy you are — not mocking, just indulgent. “insatiable little thing, aren’t you?” he says without looking up from his glass. he doesn’t initiate in public, but you can feel it in his stare across the room — the promise of what he’ll do to you later if you don’t behave.

he makes you ask. always. “use your words.” and if you whine or pout? “that’s not asking. that’s begging. i haven’t decided if you deserve it yet.” his discipline is precise — never cruel, always controlled. he doesn’t punish out of anger, but out of principle.

you learn very quickly not to touch him without permission. not because he doesn’t want you to — but because he enjoys denying you just enough to keep you desperate.

“if you can’t sit still through dinner without thinking about my hands, maybe you don’t need dessert tonight. or tomorrow.”

he knows your body like a weapon — keeps you right on the edge with barely a touch, just his voice, just the way he looks at you when you’re squirming in his lap. he buys you luxury — lingerie you’re not allowed to wear unless he puts it on you, jewelry that marks you as his, bruises that match your diamonds.

there’s a cold satisfaction in how he makes you obey. “no talking back.” if you try to argue he silences you with a kiss, a firm grip on your jaw, “i’ll speak when i want. you’ll listen.” he loves the way you bend to his will.

when you’re on your knees, obedient and desperate, he takes his time with you, savoring the control he has over your every move, over the way you look at him like he’s the only thing that matters. he loves when you’re desperate, when you can’t hide how much you crave him. “beg for it,” he’ll say, casually, and the way you do makes him smile with that dangerous satisfaction.

in those rare moments when he decides you’ve earned it, he’ll show a sliver of tenderness. a brush of his fingers on your cheek, a gentle word in your ear — it’s the only time you get a glimpse of the softer side he hides behind his icy control.

he doesn’t let you forget who’s in charge. if you slip up, if you get too demanding or bratty, he’ll pull back with a simple “that’s not how this works. try again.” he holds back just enough to make sure you’re always wanting more. when he finally gives you what you crave, it’s a slow, calculated act — drawing you to the brink, then pulling you back again, just to see how much you’ll beg.

“you’re not getting anything until you prove you can behave.” — you have to be good for him to get what you want.

⏜︵ MUSE. 𐂯

he calls you his favourite canvas, but he never means it metaphorically. his fingers drag across your skin like brushes, like he’s trying to paint need into your bones. he doesn’t understand restraint — when you want him, it feeds something primal in him. “say it again,” he demands, breathless and too close.

blood on his hands, paint under his nails, and you pulling at his shirt like you’re starving — he doesn’t care what time it is or what mess he left behind, not when you’re looking at him like that. he laughs when you get desperate, but it’s not mocking — it’s delighted. “look at you,” he purrs, “so hungry. like a little beast. i could make something beautiful out of that.”

he marks you in more than bruises — red smudges from pigment he won’t name, his fingerprints staining your thighs, your back, your neck — like he’s signing you. he gets obsessed with patterns — the way your body responds to certain touches, sounds, pressure — like he’s studying a new medium. “arch your back. no — slower. let me see the shape of it.”

he doesn’t like being told no. not because he’s cruel, but because he can’t comprehend being denied something he craves. your desire fuels his delusions of devotion. when you touch him, it drives him manic — like being wanted back is a concept he can’t entirely believe, and he spirals into reverence or obsession. sometimes both.

he doesn’t knock when he enters — he appears, silently, suddenly, like inspiration itself. and when you look at him with need in your eyes, he exhales like he’s relieved. “oh good. you’re ready for me.” he doesn’t understand why you crave him so often — but he adores it. treats it like proof. like you were made for him. like your desire validates the madness in his head.

he feeds on your desperation — physically, mentally, artistically. your need becomes his muse, your body the altar he builds madness on. when he ties you up, it’s not just for control — it’s a frame. your body, trembling and aching, becomes the exhibit. “stay still. you’re art now. don’t ruin it.”

he’s rough, but never careless. every bruise is intentional. every handprint, every bite — a signature. he gets frustrated when you wear something that hides his marks.

after, when you’re ruined and trembling and boneless, he presses his forehead to yours, whispering in rapid, breathless phrases: “my perfect, filthy little thing.”

and then he sketches. right there, with you still shaking, sprawled over his lap — he sketches the aftermath. the glow. the way you fell apart.

started 4.27.2025. finished 4.28.2025.

( masterlist. )

©️ monicfever 2025

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korn-dawg · 4 months ago

Note

I wanna be mean to loser ellie so bad mock her a bit make fun of her moans put a vib in her and ask her in a sickenly sweet tone what’s wrong in public could you write anything about this hc or anything

YESSSS OMFG THIS IS FIRE HOLY SHIT OFC I CAN 🤩🤩

⊹ loser!ellie who comes home one day with a remote controlled vibrator, giggling childishly when she shows it to you

⊹ loser!ellie who jokingly suggests going on a date to a fancy place to test it out

⊹ loser!ellie who doesn't expect the enthusiastic yes from you, thinking you were gonna shut her down

⊹ loser!ellie who thought you were going to be the one wearing it. dear, was she wrong

⊹ loser!ellie who walks into the restaurant, trying so hard to ignore the toy shoved in her cunt, pushing right up against her g-spot when she sits down

⊹ loser!ellie who gets through the first few minutes of conversation, slowly starting to relax. that is, until the waiter walks up to the table

⊹ loser!ellie who watches you slide your hand in the pocket of your bomber jacket, the same pocket you slipped the remote in when you two got out of the car earlier

⊹ loser!ellie who starts trying to place her order before the damned thing inside her buzzes to life at the highest setting possible, causing her to jerk forward with a half-smothered moan, almost slamming her face into the table

⊹ loser!ellie who gives you the dirtiest look when you order for her, pawning her behavior off as "she's getting over a cold"

⊹ loser!ellie who finally catches her breath when you turn it off, giving her the most nauseating sweet "are you sure you're okay, babe?" to which she responds to with a disgruntled "i'm fine."

⊹ loser!ellie who thought you were going to apologize with a kiss on the cheek, leaning into your lips until a imitation of her noise hit her ears

⊹ loser!ellie who gets so red as she pushes your face away while you giggle, the deep crimson almost masking her freckles

⊹ loser!ellie who panics when the waiter comes back, already seeing the sick little grin spreading across your face

⊹ loser!ellie who starts feeling the buzz again as he starts talking, asking if you two wanted the AC turned up cause he noticed how red she was

⊹ loser!ellie who looks at you to answer, only for you to gesture for her answer instead, turning the intensity of the vibrator up

⊹ loser!ellie who manages a little "yes, please." before gripping your leg under the table, fingernails digging into your thigh as she attempts to concentrate on not cumming in her pants that very second

⊹ loser!ellie who unfortunately didn't get the relief of an orgasm, as you turned it off completely right as she was about to tip over the edge

⊹ loser!ellie who was getting annoyed with you keeping up the concerned girlfriend façade as you dabbed her cheeks with your napkin, talking about how the waiter was right about how red she was

⊹ loser!ellie who could barely eat when the food came, especially not when you turned the toy on every time she went to take a bite, acting as if nothing was happening at all

⊹ loser!ellie who excused herself from the table to go to the washroom, to which you didn't follow after, opting to just mess with the remote without seeing her reaction. not being able to see her reaction, though, meant you didn't know when to stop

⊹ loser!ellie who was thanking whoever was watching over her that the restrooms were private, because she was currently leaning against the sink with the small object vibrating inside her, unable to support her own weight

⊹ loser!ellie who reached for her phone when it started buzzing in her back pocket, watching as slews of dirty texts from you came through, one after the other

⊹ loser!ellie who came twice in the washroom, hand clasped tight over her mouth as her legs shook violently, almost falling over multiple times

⊹ loser!ellie who looked like a newborn giraffe walking back to the table, nearly tumbling over her own feet

⊹ loser!ellie who rushed you along while you ate, the feeling of her soaked boxers pressing her own sticky cum back up against her pussy being oh so unbearable

⊹ loser!ellie who jumps on you as soon as you two were back in the car, reaching a hand in her pants and pulling out cum-soaked fingers, shoving them in your mouth harshly

⊹ loser!ellie who watches as you sucked them clean before grabbing her by the face opening her mouth by squeezing her cheeks tightly, spitting her arousal back onto her tongue, telling her to never try that again

⊹ loser!ellie who lowkey got her shit rocked when you two got back to your place, twitching in overstimulation and fucked stupid by your strap by the end of the night

hey gyus i think i got carried away at that end part there

taglist !! :

@lolitalovess @saturnhas82moons @odettesoddities @mars4hellokitty @hihihhihahahha @peskylez @kylorey25 @lipglosskxsses @hwasddeongbyeoli @kaykeryyy @kissyslut @meow4510

(i hope i didn't fuck that up and tag a random ass blog 😭)

#tlou part 2 #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #the last of us part 2 #ellie the last of us #ellie smut #loser!ellie #loser!ellie x reader

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thatlotuscookie · 3 months ago

Text

sung jinwoo x fem!reader (kinky hcs 2/2)

part one: sung jinwoo kinky hcs 1/2 solo leveling masterlist

Tease and denial Jinwoo is a sadistic tease. He’ll have you squirming in public, his fingers brushing over your thighs, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers the filthiest shit imaginable. And the worst part? You can’t do a damn thing about it. When you’re alone, though? He drags it out even more. He’ll deny you over and over, watching you fall apart as he keeps you right at the edge. And the second you think he’s finally giving in? He stops again. Because you don’t get to come until he says so.

Dinner. Public. His fingers under the table. You were a mess, trying to act normal while his hand rubbed slow circles on your inner thigh. "Be quiet, or I’ll slide them in right here." You bit your lip so fucking hard. He didn’t let up. Every time you shifted, he went slower, whispering filth in your ear: "Bet you’re dripping under that dress. Poor baby, all wound up and nowhere to go." Later, back home, you begged for him to let you come. He had you tied up, vibrator against your clit—so fucking close. But he pulled it away at the last second. "Not yet. Keep begging, and maybe I’ll let you come tomorrow."

Hair pulling/brat taming Jinwoo doesn’t just fuck—he owns. His grip? Unrelenting. His hands in your hair? Brutal. He’ll yank your head back, exposing your throat, whispering how much he loves seeing you so fucking helpless. And if you try to fight back? Oh, he loves that. Because it just gives him an excuse to hold you down harder. You can struggle all you want, but at the end of the day? You’re still his to break.

He had you bent over the sink, hair wrapped tight around his fist as he slammed into you from behind. "You want to talk back? This is what happens when you act like a brat." Each thrust was punishing, brutal, shaking the entire goddamn counter. Your breath fogged the mirror, eyes rolling back as he used you like a fucking toy. "Stay still. Or I’ll pin you to the goddamn floor." He yanked your hair harder, pulling your head back until your neck was bared, teeth sinking into your shoulder without mercy. You weren’t going anywhere. Not with him pounding you like that. Not with the way he owned you in every sense of the word.

Whispers and dirty talk Jinwoo knows how to use his words to wreck you. His voice? Low, teasing, full of pure fucking sin. He’ll whisper filth into your ear, letting his words seep into your skin as he drives you insane. He’s not just talking to turn you on—he’s getting into your fucking head. And when he finally has you exactly where he wants you? His words push you right over the edge.

He had you on your knees, mouth open, tears streaming as you looked up at him like the good little slut you were. "Look at you. So desperate for my cock. Such a pretty fucking mess." He ran a thumb over your bottom lip, smearing the spit that had dribbled out. "You love it when I use you, don’t you? Love being my little cum dumpster. My fucktoy. My everything." Each filthy word made you clench around nothing, your body begging for it. "I’m going to fuck you so hard, you won’t even remember your own name. Just mine. Just the sound of me ruining you."

Last but not least, bondage/restraints Jinwoo loves restraining you—tying your wrists, pinning you down, watching you writhe in frustration. It’s not just about keeping you still—it’s about the fact that you trust him enough to let him have complete control. The sight of you, bound and helpless beneath him? That’s fucking intoxicating. And the best part? You love every second of it.

Your wrists were tied to the headboard, ankles spread wide with cuffs keeping you helpless and exposed. Jinwoo stood at the end of the bed, shirt off, smirking like the devil. "Tied up so pretty. You really trust me, don’t you?" He dragged a feather across your stomach, your thighs, your fucking pussy—never enough. Just enough to make you squirm and cry. "I could do anything to you right now. And you’d let me. That’s what makes this so fun." And when he finally slid into you, slow and deep? You couldn’t do a damn thing but take it. "Let’s see how long it takes before you’re begging me to untie you—just so you can cum harder."

#solo leveling #sung jin woo #sung jin-woo #sung jinwoo #sung jinwoo x reader #sung jin woo x reader #sung jin woo x you #sung jin-woo x reader #manhwa x reader #manhwa x you #solo leveling x reader #anime headcanons #reader imagine #solo leveling x you #solo leveling headcanons #sung jinwoo x you #sung jin woo x y/n #sung jinwoo smut #solo leveling smut

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grimeshound · 5 months ago

Text

BERLIN NSFW HCS…

masterlist

cw: 18+, degrading, oral (m receiving), brat taming, clit slapping, dumbification, gun play, dom/sub dynamics, exhibitionism, possessiveness, general filth.

a/n: my content warnings get crazier and crazier each post i feel… anyways i will always have such a soft spot for berlin. i need more park haesoo berlin content on tumblr, ao3, anything T_T

—-

• he’s a bully. nothings off the table when it comes to finding creative ways to humiliate you. he’ll put his cigarette butt on you, rub the tip of his boot on your clothed cunt while you’re on your knees, the list goes on.

• ass guy. if you decide to wear short shorts, he won’t even try to hide when he checks you out. don’t ask him the color of ANYTHING.

• brat tamer. piss him off and he’ll either have you bent over his knee or your legs spread wide, not stopping until you’ve learned your lesson. his hand slaps your sensitive clit over and over as you beg, gripping his sleeve for mercy, only for him to shove your hands away with a cold glare.

“shut the fuck up. you wanna keep being a little bitch? then I’ll treat you like one.”

• loves using you as his personal little deskpet. when he tells you to get on your knees, you’re already sliding to the floor beneath his mahogany desk, ready to take him all the way down until you’re choking, tears streaming as his tip brushes the back of your throat.

• gun kink. whether it’s pressing the cold barrel of his pistol against your bare skin while you ride him, or making you lick his gun on your knees while maintaining eye contact, the sight of you getting off on the dangerous weapon is burned into his mind.

• berlin’s thick, unmistakable north korean accent is something he barely acknowledges, but it’s impossible for you to ignore. the way his deep, gravelly voice wraps around his words becomes your undoing. especially when he leans in so close, his breath hot against your ear growling filthy praises and insults while he pounds into you.

“filthy whore. look at you, messy cunt drippin’ all over my slacks.”

• loves it when he’s fully dressed while you’re completely naked. he barely tugs his pants down, just enough to free himself. reveling in the power imbalance and the way your cheeks flush with embarrassment, feeling impossibly more bare under his gaze.

• it drives him crazy just how much smaller you are in comparison to him, how easily he can manhandle you into whatever position he wants—doggy, full nelson, even folding you completely into a mating press.

• berlin thrives on the idea of completely owning you—mind, body, and soul. he loves reducing you to a babbling, cock-drunk mess, so hooked on him that you can’t think of anything else. he’ll claim you in every way imaginable, marking you with his teeth, buying you necklaces engraved with his name, ensuring you’re his in every sense. the thought of you becoming his obedient little doll, existing only to please him, drives him feral.

“good girl… my dumb little dolly, huh? all mine. always mine,” he’d chuckle darkly, his voice thick with satisfaction as he watches you come undone for him.

• quickie enthusiast. with his spontaneous nature, it’s to be expected. berlin has a knack for stealing moments in the middle of his busy schedule, he’ll pull you into a quiet corner and have his way with you before anyone even notices.

• berlin’s biggest fantasy? exhibitionism. the idea of fucking you in front of someone else gets him so damn hard. it doesn’t even have to be a big audience—just the thought of one shitty ex of yours watching you go completely cockdrunk under him while knowing they could never touch you again sends him over the edge. after all, berlin isn’t one for sharing his toys.

#berlin money heist #money heist korea #money heist joint economic area #song jung ho #berlin x reader #berlin smut #money heist #park haesoo #fanfic #smut #headcanon #money heist headcanons #money heist fic #money heist x reader

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hederasgarden · 3 months ago

Text

Random Sergei Kravinoff HCs

I've been talking with @elusivewildflower and @whatblogisthis216about about Kraven so now everyone here is going to be treated to my unhinged Sergei Kravinoff thoughts.

Imagine dating Sergei and him just casually summoning all the animals over so you can say hi and pet them. I love the thought of asking him, "What are those grackles gossiping about over there?" He just sighs and tries to explain that's not how it works but you're only half listening, already asking him to summon a squirrel for a little chat.

I'd be fun to figure out the extent of his powers—like, "Ooo, can you talk to bugs too? Can you tell the gnats they need to leave my apartment ASAP?"

And then there’s Sergei sending in birds and other animals to check on you when he's out on a job, making sure you're safe and sound. It’d be hilarious, especially since he seems like the type who’d think some light stalking of his partner (disguised as 'keeping you safe') is totally fine.

Imagine if you will....

You’re sitting at your kitchen table when a beautiful falcon lands on the ledge of your apartment, its wings spread wide and dark, its feathers a stunning blend of earthy browns and soft creams. The bird taps the glass twice with its curved, hooked beak and you sigh, knowing exactly what it wants. Reluctantly, you slide the window open.

"This is still stalking," you mutter under your breath, pointing a finger at the falcon as it stares back at you with those piercing, yellow eyes.

It tilts its head curiously, studying you with an almost knowing look, before it steps into your apartment with a soft flutter of its wings. It lands gracefully on the back of the chair closest to you.

"You better not poop in here," you warn, raising an eyebrow as you watch its talons tap-tap across the surface. You stab a piece of cooked chicken with your fork, and the falcon's gaze immediately sharpens, its hungry eyes following every movement.

"If you let me pet you before you report back, I’ll give you this chicken. Deal?" you ask, half-amused, half-annoyed.

The bird doesn’t respond, but it allows you to gently stroke its silky feathers. Then, in one swift motion, it snatches the chicken from your fork, the sharp snap of its beak and flutters back onto the ledge.

"Ugh, this is so weird," you groan, watching it from across the room. "Why can’t Sergei just text me like a normal person?"

Another random thought....we never actually see Sergei drive in the movie, and as a young adult, it seems like he was chauffeured everywhere. So, I can’t help but be greatly amused by the idea of this terrifying assassin who… can’t drive. You expect him to have all these incredible skills after watching him tear through like 30 bad guys, but then he's sliding into the passenger seat, expecting you to drive.

#sergei kravinoff x reader #sergei kravinoff x you #kraven x reader #kraven the hunter #kraven x you #sergei kravinoff

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auxmodi · 6 months ago

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nsfw jon snow hc's ;)

im barking like a fucking dog rn

my masterlist

you could just look at him a certain way, and suddenly he’s stumbling over himself, palms sweating, trying not to make it obvious how badly he wants you. but get him alone? clothes are gone in seconds, and he’s pinning you to the nearest surface like you’re the only thing that matters in the world.

jon loves taking his time, teasing you until you’re begging. his fingers trail down your body, grazing over your most sensitive spots with agonizing slowness, never giving you enough. “patience,” he murmurs, watching the way you squirm under his touch. he LOVES making you desperate for more, only to pull back just when you need him the most.

pussy eating KING, look, this man thrives on making you feel good, he hooks your legs over his broad shoulders, locking you in place with his strong arms around your thighs. he'll start slow, dragging his tongue up your folds with maddening precision, letting you feel every second of it. the way your hips twitch under him? yeah, that’s what he’s here for.

he's def a doggy kinda guy, he’s all about pressing you down onto the bed, the table, the ground, wherever he wants you. he loves your ass, his hands trail all over it, kneading, squeezing, as if he’s claiming it for himself. each thrust is harder, more demanding, "feel how deep I am, don’t you?”

jon is def mesmerized by the sight of you taking him. the first time he catches a glimpse of the way your pussy wraps around him, he’s hooked. he’ll slow down just to watch, one hand grips your hip, pulling you back onto him, while the other slides down to spread you open so he can watch himself disappear into you over and over again. his head falls back for a second, a low groan escaping his lips, “look at that."

there’s something about eye contact that drives him crazy. as he fucks you harder, his eyes stay glued to yours, barely able to look away. you’re driving him mad with just a glance. the more you look at him, the more lost he gets, and the harder he fucks you, he feels the need to keep you there, to keep you connected to him. each time he feels you tightening around him, he can’t help but let out a low, “look at me.”

jon’s a responsive talker, he feeds off your reactions, his words becoming bolder every time you moan or whimper his name. if you beg for more, his restraint crumbles completely. “that’s it,” he growls, his hips snapping into you harder. "tell me how much you need me.”

jon's breeding kink is like, the kind of thing he never talks about, but you can feel it in the way he moves with you, his grip on you tightens, his breathing sharpens, and the pace of his thrusts goes from slow to driven, like he’s trying to bury himself deeper and deeper until there’s nothing left between you but him. and that’s when the words slip out. "want to fill you up, see you full of me." the words barely a growl, his hips slamming into you harder.

#jon snow #gameofthrones #jon snow x reader #jon snow x you #jon snow smut #jon snow hc #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones smut #smut #x reader #hc #headcanon

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monster-effer · 5 months ago

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Oh okk my wifi been acting up lately💀 I requested hcs with all the l&ds men about how'd they react to finding out reader can secretly pole dance, sfw and nsfw hcs if you do nsfw please! Thank you!!💕

This was a really fun concept to write about!!

It seems I am incapable of describing things concisely because this turned out much longer than I expected LMAO, I hope you enjoy 💗💗💗

Sylus

Funnily enough, this starts from a game of tipsy Truth of Dare with Luke and Kieran. You chose truth and they asked you to tell them one unknown fact about yourself. You are a certified yapper when you’re tipsy so you blabbed about your pole dancing hobby then passed out and forgot about your confession.

Of course this info made its way back to Sylus (most likely that same night). And he was intrigued. He would tease you while asking why you’ve been keeping such an interesting hobby from him.

The very next day he would have a pole installed in one of the spare rooms of his home base.

The room would be decorated with in dark, seductive colors with ceiling lights that showcase the pole and the immediate area around it.

There is no furniture in the room besides a plush black arm chair and a side table.

Sylus calls you over to the N109 Zone saying that he has a surprise for you.

When you arrive he’s all smirks and being more vague than usual. You also don’t miss the mischievous glint in his eyes.

As he lets you walk into the room first, you are speechless.

“Forgive me if this is too presumptuous kitten, but I couldn’t get the image of you pole dancing out of my mind. I have a request, why don’t you show me what you’ve learned so far?”

“What’s in it for me?”

Sylus chuckles huskily before replying “Have I ever left you empty handed? You know me better than that.”

You gulp at his offer and quickly don the outfit and shoes that are placed neatly near the pole in the room.

Sylus dims the lights in the room, with the ceiling lights over the pole brighter than the rest. He settles into the armchair and pours himself a glass of whiskey. He adjusts himself in his pants, already feeling his cock stiffen from the anticipation.

You stretch and take a few breaths to get yourself in the zone.

You connect your phone to the speaker in the room then play the first song from your pole dancing playlist.

Once you feel confident and ready, you make eye contact with Sylus and begin to sway to the seductive music.

Although you took several classes in person, you have never performed for anyone before.

You begin to slowly whine your hips to the beat and spin while maneuvering around the pole.

With Sylus’ full attention focused on you, you can’t help but feel like a goddess.

Sylus’ gaze is practically searing your skin. You begin to perspire from the effort you’re putting into this performance. Feeling bold, you slide all the way down the pole until your thighs are flush with the floor. Then, you crawl towards Sylus.

Sylus sharply inhales and puts down his emptied glass on the side table as he eagerly awaits what’s to come.

When you reach him, you place your hands on his knees and slowly rise to your feet. You flash a mischievous smile at him before straddling his lap. Then you wind your arms around his neck and look into his eyes as you grind down hard onto his lap.

Your breath intermingles as you hypnotize him with your undulating hips. When your performance ends you are lightly panting, nervously awaiting to hear his thoughts.

Sylus is mesmerized by the gift you’ve just given him. And he can’t help but to cup the right side of your face before pulling you in for a passionate kiss.

Your lips glide against one another before you both have to pull away to catch your breath.

“Does that mean you enjoyed the show?”

“You were exquisite my sweetie,” he says as he places his hands under your thighs and rises from the chair. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist as he walks towards the door of the room.

“Now, let me give you your prize for that outstanding performance.”

Zayne

Zayne is walking around downtown Linkon when something catches his eye. He sees someone that looks suspiciously like you in the window of a fitness class. He has eyes for no one else as he watched you swing effortlessly around the pole. Not wanting to be mistaken for a pervert, he only watches for a few more moments before continuing on his walk.

He ends up walking past his intended destination because he was lost in thought over what he saw. So many questions pop into his mind. Luckily it is Thursday, and he has plans with you this weekend.

Saturday morning finally arrives, and you are at Zayne’s door holding an assorted box of fruit flavored macaroons.

As you let yourself in with your key, you find Zayne washing dishes in his kitchen. He is lost in his thoughts because he doesn’t immediately notice you’ve come in. You place the macaroons on the kitchen counter before circling his waist with your arms and resting your head on his back.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” he says softly.

“I just arrived. A penny for your thoughts?”

He finishes washing the dish in his hand before he dries his hand on a clean dish towel. He untangles his body from yours so he can face you.

“I saw something interesting when I was taking a stroll in downtown Linkon earlier this week.”

“Oh? And what was so interesting that it’s stayed on your mind until now?”

Zayne pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose as a light blush overtakes his cheekbones.

“I saw someone who looked exactly like you a few days ago. They could have been your doppelgänger.”

It doesn’t immediately register in your mind that he’s talking about you yet.

“Oh? And what was my twin doing?”

He clears his throat before continuing. “Pole dancing,” he says in a low tone.

Your eyes widen as you connect the dots.

“O-oh,” you say shakily.”

“It’s a new hobby that I picked up recently. I didn’t think you, my doctor, would complain about me building muscle,” you reply cheekily.

“It seems you misunderstood me. I am far from complaining. I do have a request though.”

“And what is that?”

“I request an encore performance, just for me. Considering your medical condition, it is not advisable to begin a new exercise routine without first consulting your doctor.” He says with the smallest grin on his face.

“When is your next available appointment? I had a pole installed in my apartment a week ago. We can conduct your assessment there.”

Rafayel

Rafayel comes across your knee pads and skimpy outfit when he visits your apartment one day.

“What kind of event calls for this outfit cutie?” He asks while holding up your short shorts and knee pads.

IMO Rafayel would be very curious about your pole dancing skills. He would teasingly request a demonstration of your skills and he’d be adorably flustered as he watches your body wind up, down and around the pole.

The man would be flabbergasted and turned on at this demonstration of strength and the expression of freedom as you perform for him.

The sensual nature of this private show is heavy in the room. He’s never seen you look so confident and carefree before. He lets out a weak moan as he watches you and begins to palm his erection through his dress pants.

As a result of your performance, his libido and creativity are at an all time high.

He would have a pole installed in his studio and call you over one day.

He would request that you to hold various poses for him as he attempts to capture the raw sensuality you exude.

Rafayel would get so worked up while he paints that his ever steady hand begins to shake. Before he is done, he is begging for you to use him for your own pleasure. Whether it be riding his face, his cock or his fingers. Any of those get him off because your pleasure is his.

This develops into a pleasurable cycle.

One, two, three paintings later result in Rafayel being desperate and needy for you. More so than he already was. He is never letting you go.

And the paintings of you begin to pile up in his studio. But they aren’t for sale of course, they are for his eyes only.

Because to Rafayel you are the most captivating work of art he’s ever seen, and he will not share this side of you with the rich schmucks that can afford his art.

Caleb

Caleb finds out about your new hobby during one of his visits to Linkon. Instead of heading to his apartment in Skyhaven, he came over to your apartment for a change of pace.

When he walks into your apartment, he is immediately greeted by the pole you had installed in your living room.

He playfully raises his eyebrow and tilts his head to the side as he says, “I didn’t know you have this in you pipsqueak.”

You shrug and say, “I’m not a kid anymore Caleb.”

He slowly eyes you up and down. “Oh, there’s no doubt about that. How exactly did you start this new hobby?”

As you explain that you got into pole dancing for fun and strength building Caleb is nodding along with your reasoning.

“Strength building huh? Show me what you’ve learned so far princess.”

Your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest. But you eventually agree then go change into the performance outfit that gives you the most confidence.

Caleb is already feeling flustered when he sees the skimpy outfit you changed into. He has tried not to act on his long held crush but today may push him past his limit.

As you stretch you wonder if this is crossing the line for what is acceptable to do with a childhood friend/pseudo brother figure. Although you’ve denied it on multiple occasions, your feelings for Caleb lost their innocence well before this moment.

You grab your bluetooth speaker and turn on some music. As you lock gazes with Caleb you feel like this is the point of no return.

Caleb looks suspiciously comfortable seated on your living room couch, thighs spread wide and arms resting on the back of the sofa.

You gaze trails away from him as you close your eyes to get yourself into the zone. After taking a deep breath, you begin to strut around the pole. You seamlessly transition into a routine that you’ve practiced multiple times. But today it feels different, somehow more intimate because Caleb is watching you.

You lose yourself in the music as you climb the pole and twirl slowly down it. You feel so seductive in this moment as you lock eyes with Caleb and take in his reaction.

Caleb was already attracted to you because how could he not be? But tonight, he is struggling to hold back his possessive urges to stake his claim on you. In his mind, you have always been his and tonight he’s going to make sure you know it.

He doesn’t even wait for you to finish your routine before he activates his evol and pulls you right into his lap. His violet eyes were filled with lust as he takes in the surprised look on your face.

You are shook to say the least. Caleb doesn’t use his evol on you often, and when he has it was never for something like this. The tension between you two is thick as you look into each other’s eyes.

“I take it that you liked the show?”

“I’m sure you can feel how much I enjoyed it princess. From now on think I’ll be crashing at your place whenever I’m in town,” he says before pulling you into a messy kiss.

Xavier

Xavier finds out about your new hobby from overhearing a conversation you were having with Tara and Simone.

From the brief snippets he heard, it seemed like something you were really excited about. It made him wonder why you haven’t mentioned it to him yet. Since you two talk practically every day there have been plenty of opportunities to do so.

A few weeks pass before Xavier feels like he’s given you enough time. He decides to bring it up while you two laze around his apartment.

“I heard you talking to your coworkers about your new hobby.”

You choke on your boba tea.

“Did you now?”

“Yeah,” he answers breezily. “What is it?”

“I’m learning how to pole dance. It utilizes multiple muscle groups and I like how it makes me feel.”

Xavier is shocked but he doesn’t let it show on his face. “How does it make you feel?”

You whisper out “Strong…and beautiful.”

Xavier hums lightly at your answer.

“Are you allowed to record yourself in the classes you take?”

“I would have to check. But, I had a pole installed in my apartment a few days ago.”

A small smile appeared on Xavier’s face. “Can you show me your moves bunny?”

You send a flirtatious smile his way before standing up and walking towards his front door.

Let’s just say that Xavier is mystified by your hips. You show out for him just to see what causes him to lose his composure. It happens to be the moment that you slide down the pole, proceed to stand up and swivel your hips in a figure eight motion that does it.

Xavier flashes over to the pole, grabs you, then sits back on the couch while holding you in his lap. “Continue dancing,” is all he says in the commanding tone that makes your heart quiver. When you look in his eyes you realize you may have pushed him too hard.

You gyrate in his lap as you hold his gaze, charmed by his blue eyes that have darkened with lust.

His thumbs are digging into your hips, holding you in place. As if you’re trying to escape.

Xavier would 100% whisper some nasty shit into your ear while you continue to grind on him. Once he’s had enough let’s just say that your bed frame and pussy never recovered ♡.

#love and deepspace #lads #lnds #l&ds #love and deepspace x reader #lads x reader #lnds x reader #l&ds x reader #sylus x reader #xavier x reader #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #caleb x reader #headcanons #anonies #asks #monster-effer

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v1kastr4p · 10 days ago

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I really like ur characterization of sevika. What are some domestic/fluffy HCs you have about her?

domestic!sevika hdcns

❀ she fixes shit around the house even when it doesn’t need fixing.

not because she’s bored, but because her hands don’t know how to stay still when she’s home. there’s always a knife to sharpen, a hinge to oil, a frayed cable to wrap. if a cabinet door creaks? fixed. if a table wobbles? she’s under it with a wrench. it’s not even conscious. her brain just hunts problems, and fixing things is how she unwinds. you’ll walk in to find her shirtless with grease on her cheek and half the stove disassembled. you’re like “baby what the hell is wrong with it?” and she’s like “dunno. just felt off.”

you never ask her to stop. it’s hot.

❀ she always makes your coffee/tea/breakfast just the way you like it. doesn’t matter what time she got in, or how bruised she is. she wakes up first. limps to the kitchen. leans on the counter and lights a cigarette while the water boils.

you come in rubbing your eyes and find her mug already set beside yours, her hand sliding behind your back to pull you close, her voice still gravelly with sleep:

“morning, doll. your toast’s gonna burn.”

she memorizes how you like everything without asking.

everything.

❀ she’s not good at talking about emotions, but she’s trying.

you tell her you had a bad day and she doesn’t always know what to say. so she just nods, pulls you into her lap, and lets you vent with her arms tight around your waist. she won’t say much. might grunt. might drop a quiet “that sucks.” but her hand will move slow over your back. her chin will tuck against your shoulder. she’ll be there the whole time, solid and silent and yours.

later, she’ll patch something small for you. fix a hole in your coat. bring home your favorite snack. she loves in action, not words.

❀ she always falls asleep last.

even when she’s exhausted. even when you’re already dozing on her chest, one leg slung across her hip. she’ll lie there smoking, watching the ceiling, arm curled around your waist like a wall. she listens to your breathing. she watches the way your fingers twitch in your sleep. sometimes she mutters shit under her breath, little things she doesn’t say while you’re awake:

"fuck, you’re soft." "look at you." "don’t know what i’d do if you left."

you never hear it. but it’s all true.

❀ she makes you shower with her when she comes back from a job.

she likes when you undress her. when your fingers are gentle over bruises and rough skin. when you help her out of her coat, her shirt, her boots, your nose wrinkling at the blood or grease. you always grumble a little, call her a mess, sigh while turning on the tap. but your hands are always careful.

you shampoo her hair with your fingers.

she melts. actually melts.

she leans into the touch like her whole body is made of sleep and rainwater.

and when you press a kiss to her temple and whisper, “welcome home,”

her hands clutch your hips like she doesn’t want to let go.

❀ she secretly keeps little things that remind her of you.

a button from your old jacket. a doodle you left on her workbench. the receipt from your first lunch together. she tucks them in drawers, in the lining of her coat, behind her cig case. if you ever found out, she’d say it was “nothing.”

but it’s not.

it’s you. and she doesn’t throw that kind of thing away.

i need to write more sevika fluff tbh theres barely any on here

tt: @sevikastr4p

#sevika fanfic #sevika fluff #lesbian #arcane #sevika smut #sevika arcane #arcane fanfic #sevika my love #sevika #sevika x you #jinx #domestic fluff #my baby

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juliettejwnewinesa · 1 month ago

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OMG UR FICS NEED MORE ATTENTION WAAA I JUST BINGED UR ENTIRE ACD WAA UR ACTUALLY SO GOODDD UGHHHHH

ID LIKE TO REQUEST A SIEUN X READER 😭🫶

In a cutesy little scenario where reader leaves cute little notes in the notebooks/textbooks he let reader borrow while studying :3 and then he starts collecting them or something then one day mentions it in person !!! when he does they both agree in a cute sentimental way that they like it better when the reader says things out loud to him and stuff and but then HEHEHE maybe things could get a bit spicy? Idk it’s completely up to u 🫶

THANK U FOR 4 FEEDING ME YUMMY YUMMY FICS/HCS/WTV I LOVE UR ACC

WAAAAAA THANK UUU 😭😭😭🫶 you just healed five of my inner children, three of my chakras, and a minimum of one organ I didn’t know needed saving. I’m literally putting this message in a locket and wearing it to my wedding.

AND YESSSSS absolutely I will write your Sieun x reader request!! The concept is so 🥺💘💌 cute I wanna eat it like candy. Notes in textbooks?? Secretly collecting them?? Soft confession with a little spicy twist? You have taste. Michelin star level taste.

Scribbled Hearts

Pairing: Yoo Si-eun x Reader Genre: Fluff → Smut | College AU Word count: ~6,500 Summary: You’ve been borrowing Si-eun’s textbooks all semester, and along the way, you’ve left behind little notes: doodles, encouragement, private jokes. What you don’t know is that he’s been collecting every single one. And what he doesn’t know is how you feel—until now.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It started with a pen.

Well—no. It started with Yoo Si-eun, deadpan and dry, passing over his physics textbook without a word when you forgot yours for the third time in a row.

“You should carry a bag,” he mumbled, not looking at you.

“You should carry less judgment,” you shot back sweetly, and he scoffed, just enough to make you feel victorious.

You didn’t know why he kept letting you borrow his books. He barely seemed to like people, and yet every time you arrived breathless and unprepared, he’d slide one across the table with a sigh like it was inevitable. Like he’d been expecting it.

So you thanked him in the only way you could: you doodled in the margins.

At first, it was dumb stuff—tiny frogs saying “ribbit” during momentum formulas, or stick figures in increasingly dramatic death poses next to your least favorite equations. Then it became… something more.

"Don’t fall asleep in class again today." "You’re really good at this, even if you pretend you’re not." "If you ever smile during lectures I’ll pass out." (That one was in pink gel pen with little hearts.)

Si-eun never said anything. But he never erased them either.

A month later, you spotted something.

A fat envelope stuffed into the front of his folder. Peeking out of the corner?

Your frog doodle.

Your handwriting.

He was keeping them.

Your stomach did a little somersault, like a frog of its own had launched off a lily pad directly into your chest. You didn’t say anything, too nervous to ask—but suddenly every exchange between you felt different. His stares lingered longer. His tone had softened.

And one day, when you passed back a borrowed workbook with another silly message inside—"Can you believe you’re the hottest guy in linear algebra?"—his hand caught yours.

“Do you do that for everyone?” he asked.

You blinked. “Do what?”

“Write stuff.” He looked at you, something unreadable in his eyes. “In their books.”

Your mouth went dry. “No. Just yours.”

A long pause. Then:

“Good.”

You never kissed Yoo Si-eun for the first time. It just… happened.

One moment you were sitting beside him in the library, knees pressed together under the table, and the next he leaned in like it was a secret, like it was something he’d been wanting to tell you for a long time but couldn’t say out loud.

So he showed you instead.

His lips were warm, shy at first, then hungry. His hands—always so careful when flipping pages—were suddenly gripping your waist like you might vanish. And when you pulled back, just a little breathless, he didn’t let you go.

“I like it,” he said quietly, “when you say things out loud.”

Your heart flipped. “What things?”

He leaned his forehead against yours. “That you like me.”

Your cheeks burned. “I do.”

“Then say it.”

“I like you.”

He kissed you again, firmer this time. “Again.”

“I really like you, Si-eun.”

You felt him smile against your mouth.

“Okay,” he murmured, voice dipping. “Now say something else.”

[⛔ SMUT BELOW | soft, emotional, a little needy 🫶🍶💗]

By the time you were back at his apartment—your hand still in his, your bag discarded somewhere near the door—neither of you could stop smiling.

He sat on the edge of his bed, watching you take off your shoes, his eyes trailing your every move like you were some kind of dream he didn’t quite believe.

“Come here,” he said softly.

You stepped between his knees.

He tilted his head up to look at you, then reached up to tug you down, letting you straddle his lap.

Kisses turned lazy. Melty. Like the tension had cracked and now all that was left was warmth.

His hands slid under your shirt like he was learning a language—fingertips skating along your sides, your back, anywhere he could touch. He pulled the shirt over your head carefully, slowly, like he didn’t want to miss a single second of seeing you.

You did the same to him, admiring the way his skin flushed beneath your fingers.

“I wanted this,” he whispered, brushing his lips along your collarbone. “For a long time.”

You laughed gently. “But you never said anything.”

He met your eyes. “You never said anything either.”

You kissed his cheek, then lower—down his jaw, down his throat, until he hissed softly and cradled your hips against his.

“I want to hear you say everything,” he breathed.

“Everything?”

He nodded. “What you want. What you feel.”

You nuzzled against his neck. “I want you to touch me.”

His fingers dug into your thighs. “Where?”

You leaned in, whispering the answer into his ear. His breath caught—and then his hands were on you, exactly where you needed them.

He took his time. Like reading one of your notes—again and again and again, just to make sure he understood every word.

By the time he was inside you, you were saying everything.

That he felt too good. That he was too deep. That you couldn’t believe this was real.

He answered you with kisses and low, breathy groans, and soft-spoken words that spilled out between thrusts like he couldn’t stop himself either:

“You’re so warm.” “You always smell so good.” “I wanted to fuck you since midterms.” “I keep every single note.”

You kissed him harder. Wrapped your legs tighter around him. Clung like you’d never let go.

And he let you.

Held you.

Until both of you came undone.

Later, when you were curled up in his bed—his hand tracing lazy patterns on your arm—he said, “I’ll keep writing things too.”

You blinked sleepily. “In my books?”

“No.” He looked at you, smiling. “On your skin.”

#fluff #smut #cute #weak hero class 1 #weak hero class two #weak hero class one #fwb #weak hero class #weak hero fanfic #sieun x reader #yeon sieun #sieun #yeon sieun x reader #whc #park sieun #weakheroclass1

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errruvande · 10 months ago

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Sending them a spicy picture modern HC

Summery: while he's on a important meeting and you are bored alone at home, you decided to send him a spicy picture

Included characters: Green Small Council: Aegon II, Aemond, Tyland, Larys, Otto

A/N: this is my first piece for HotD, I hope it's more or less in character 👉🏻👈🏻

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated in this house 🥹

Aegon didn't bother to put his phone on silent when the meeting started, so when he received a message from you, everyone in the room lifted their heads and stared at him. He was rightfully bored and empty-headed, absolutely unbothered by all the discussions, playing with decorative marbled sphere right until he clicked on the message from you.

He lifted the phone from the table and swiped the notification to almost jump on his seat, awestruck. This Aegon-branded stupid wide smile stretched on his face while he stared eagerly at the screen of his phone. You were naked, only covering the much desired parts of your body with a thin, almost see-through material.

[new message from Aegon: fuck... Fuck fuck fuck, can you bend a little?? For me?? Cause my cock is hard already but I haven't seen your wet cunt still...]

Aegon giggled and bit his lip, typing how he'd have fucked you right now and that his cock is already hard by just looking at you. Every single person on the meeting saw his tongue slither through his teeth.

[new message from Aegon: fuck it, I'm going home!]

Aegon stood up from his seat, his pants uncomfortably tight for everyone to notice. As a main player, who has inherited the company after his father's death, he vaguely waved his hands and told everyone to go, the meeting has ended. He wanted to fuck you and he was more than just delighted that you wanted it too.

When he burst through the door of your apartment and found you lying spread on the bed, toy in hand, he felt wholeheartedly smug about it. He joined you immediately, tugging his pants and trousers down and leaving them on the floor.

"You know how to make my day worth living, baby" was the last word Aegon spoke before sliding between your thighs.

Aemond lowered his gaze at the vibrating phone, expression on his face didn't change from a solid rock seriousness and scorn. He hated everyone in the room. He turned the phone, screen up, and checked the notifications.

[New message from "my queen": picture]

Eyeing everyone in the room, he looked down and swiped the notification. His jaw clenched and lips screwed. He hated when you were doing it. He hated that he was getting hard in the middle of the important meeting. Aemond cruelly left you on "seen", turning his phone screen to the table, trying not to think about your wet thighs that were spread to the camera. It was adorable how after all these years you still tried to impress and catch his attention this way.

Not giving you any attention at the meeting, Aemond definitely decided to let you know everything what was on his mind as soon as he came home.

"I told you not to do so, didn't I" he was about to punish you for your disobedience, throwing you on the bed. "You like to play with fire, don't you? Give me your wet pussy then and water that fire down"

Larys was the horniest mothefucker you could possibly find in the RedKeep corp. There haven't been a day when he wasn't jerking off in the company toilets or in his office, flipping through some porn journals or, as it was that day, looking at your picture.

He peeked at his phone when the message came through and his posture straightened to tighten his pants around his hardening cock. The picture of you in the little cute lingerie with thin white knee socks on.

He didn't send back any text, but you knew exactly what he was doing right at that moment, and the thought of it made your insides warm with pleasure.

He slid the hand under the table to work though his own pants and trouser, wrapped his palm around his dick and started tugging on it. He knew his trouser will be all dirty in his cum. Did he cared? Absolutely fucking not. He tried not to be too smug about it, but every time he stroke his cock the lusting smile appeared on his face.

As he finished, he sent you a picture of his own, totally spent cock.

[new message from Larys: can you send another one in like 20 minutes????"]

Otto was the only member of the council that literally turns his phone off during the meeting. He was a goat at this game, going to his job to actually work. So he didn't know that you sent him anything right until the meeting had ended and he retired to his own office.

He turned on the phone and 5 notifications popped up.

[new message from "Y/N": picture]

[new message from "Y/N: ?????]

[new message from "Y/N": Don't you like it????]

[mew message from "Y/N": Otto????]

He opened the conversation and immediately drew in air sharply and smacked his lips. Otto wasn't particularly horny, so the picture itself wasn't a major turn on for him, it's not that his cock hardened just by looking at your absolutely drained wet panties. He smirked, typing words into the input window.

[new message from "Otto": Are you trying to be a naughty girl? Save your lust for a few hours, I'd be home soon and look at how you behave."]

Tyland wasn't a type to be easily distracted during the meetings, but being an attentive husband as he was, he couldn't resist the urge to check the notification from you when it popped up on the screen of his phone. What if it was an emergency?

In fact, it was an emergency. You wanted to fuck so bad you could literally die from the lust. As soon as Tyland clicked on the notification, he almost threw his phone on the table, screen down, and glanced around the room hectically. As he tried to gather his scattered thoughts, he took the phone and opened the conversation with you once more.

"delete this please" he started to type only to delete it afterwards. His face became red and hot as fire as his eyes kept wandering from the input window to your very intimate photo. "This is beyond words inappropriate, love" he typed again only to never send this one either.

He tried to remain calm and prudent, as he always was, but the pleasingly painful arousal already turned his abdomen into a knot. So he stared into the wall, not being able to listen to whatever proposals were suggested. He was too frightened to move, to tug on that string that has already been tight enough for him to breathe with caution, not to whimper or moan.

When the meeting ended, he rushed to his office, typing your name in his contacts.

"Love you know how embarrassed I was just a moment ago??? I..I couldn't find a place to hide, and they all were looking at me, and my face was probably too red for them not to notice it and do you mind sending another one???? You looked so pretty!"

Thank you for reading 💞

@bilbotargaryen idk I just think you might be interested in this mess lmao

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larcenywrites · 11 months ago

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My Little Animal

Logan Howlett x F!Reader

Word count: ~2,400

A late night was normal around here, and a late night waiting up for Logan was hardly newsworthy. Neither were the heavier-than-usual drag of boots outside the door, nor the irritated huff after he closed the door a little too carefully.

Your eyes are drawn from the book in your lap to the larger man sitting on the end of the bed, back to you. Remaining silent, you watch him, his hand scratching through his beard and through the hair on the back of his neck. His tension is obvious in his movements, and more obvious in the tight muscles of his back as he pulls his white tank over his head, tossing it aside with a huff.

"Tough day?" You finally break the silence, trying not to let your tone hint at the longing in your eyes as you ogle.

"Always," he only replies gruffly, making you huff with an irritated amusement. You continue to eye him from your spot, deciding not to scold him this time for wearing his suit's yellow and blue pants on the bed. This time.

"I think you're just being dramatic," you softly tease, placing your book on the bedside table. With a disgruntled grunt of disagreement, Logan bends to work on getting his boots off, bare shoulders just inviting you to touch them. Shrugging the covers from your lap, you shuffle across the mattress to his seated form, eager to slide your palms over his heated skin. There's no reaction even when you nuzzle into his neck, the only sounds being the thump of boots being tossed aside and the rustling of fabric as he removes his pants. And those black boxer briefs didn't leave much to the imagination when he kicked the yellow and blue fabric aside, his flaccid bulge moving with his thigh.

You knew he could pick up your spike in arousal at the sight, and you could feel the elevation of his heartbeat when you hooked your arms under his to rest your hands on his chest. It was only when he felt your tongue on the shell of his ear that he finally reacted, a low growl vibrating through your hands and chest where you pressed against him.

That was really all you needed to know.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, pulling away from his tense form. Instead, you roughly thread your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp and pulling more low rumbles from his chest. Like a grumpy ball of putty in your hands, he lets you push his head down, chin to chest. Just another little push, and he lowered himself, kneeling at the foot of the bed. He sighs heavily when you steal your touch from his hair, but it's far from one of relief. His cheek tilts your way as you shuffle over the sheets again, listening as you move back to the nightstand.

You can't hide anything from him. He knows which drawer you open. He knows what's in it. He knows what it means. Yet he still doesn't move when your hand pets over his neck. You could practically feel him bristling with excitement. For being so tense and stubborn, he always allows you to bind his neck with the collar. You wrap the brown nylon fabric around his throat with care, its gunmetal gray fastens jingling as you fix the buckle, keeping it loose just the way he likes it.

Wrapping a few fingers around the now-fitted collar, you carefully tug it up towards you, keeping his head down while your nails scratch over his scalp. Another soft growl makes you smile. Stepping off the bed next to his kneeling form, you drag his collar with you, the rough fabric sliding over his skin as you stand in front of him. You continue your petting, letting him adjust to his new headspace until he finally leans further into your grasp, nuzzling against your bare thigh and resting his cheek against your skin with a growly sigh.

"There's my little animal," you coo, tightening your grip on his hair and abruptly tugging the collar up, making him face up at you, your knuckles against his jaw. Logan's mouth parts in a silent moan, lip curled in a silent snarl. He narrowly eyes you through his lashes as your thumb pushes his bottom lip down and leans obediently into the rough petting on the side of his head. The pad of your thumb presses into the point of his fang and is met with his eager tongue, languidly lapping and swirling over the digit.

You take your hand from his hair to trace fingers over his lips, watching him close his eyes in ecstasy as he laps at your other fingers. Tongue and lips press against your palm in a sort of kiss before fangs gently bite into the soft flesh between your thumb and finger. You know they're just itching to get that tension out, and what better way than guiding that bite down to your thigh. He eagerly latches on, exploring the skin of your thigh with scraping fangs and long licks while bringing his hands to hold the backs of your thighs in a bruising grip.

You can't help but finally moan at his feral-ish nature, holding onto the back of his collar while threading through the thick curls on the back of his neck, encouraging more of those sharp nibbles and wet trails drifting closer to the inside of your thigh. He can't help but taste the softer skin beneath his tongue several times before sinking his teeth in just a bit harder, growling low in response to your moan.

Your grip on his hair tightens in surprise as he noses against your panty-covered clit, cheeks feeling flushed at the sound of him inhaling the scent of your arousal straight from the source. Fangs press ever-so-gently into your mound as his tongue finally meets your sensitive bud, swirling over the fabric and massaging deeply the more the mix of his saliva and your slick dampened the thin material that hardly kept you separated.

You desperately clench around nothing when he pulls back, teeth bringing your panties with him as his fingers tightly grip around the band and impatiently tear them from your legs with ease. There's no time to think about scolding him before your knee is forced onto his shoulder, falling into an awkward angle against him as his lips devour you again.

"Oh fuck, Logan," you sigh, only able to claw at his shoulders while firm hands pull you into him. His hot breath fans over your sensitive flesh as he practically pants, cleaning up the arousal pooled at your core and his nose bumping against your clit. The only noises in the room are your mixed panting and the crude lapping sounds from between your legs, supplemented by the low, warning growls every time the prickle of his beard causes you to twitch away. The same prickling friction that drags through your folds as his tongue meets your clit again, leaving your legs trembling in his grasp with every swipe. He knows you're close-- he can smell it, hear it in your whimperish panting, feel it in the way you try to grind on his tongue. It only spurs him on, tilting his head against your thigh as if to settle in while he pushes you closer to the edge.

It isn't long before your nails dig into his hair and pull him closer, and your legs awkwardly tensing and closing against him as you finally come on his tongue. He laps deeply at your over-sensitive bud several more times to ride you through it before attacking your entrance again, drinking your essence like a starved animal. Every brush of his beard and nuzzle against your clit becomes far too much to keep handling as he continues, but there's no escape from his grip on you. Wrapping your hand around the collar, you try to tug him away, only met with a deep rumble that borders between a growl and a moan, hot breath fanning over your core again. He was as stubborn as he was greedy, knowing well that he was far too strong for you to pull him away, especially from between your legs. Maybe he even enjoyed the rough material of his collar threatening to choke him.

"Logan, please," you plead breathily, thumbs hooked around the collar. As if to make a point, he deeply laps at you several more times before turning to sink his fangs into your thigh in aggravated obedience with a low growl that gently rumbles against your skin. He keeps his teeth in your leg even while you lower your knee from his shoulder and holds onto you while you recover for the moment. But only for a moment.

The sharp prick of fangs finally leaves your thigh, only for them to brush across your tummy with a wet lick as he nuzzles under your shirt. Your fingers brush over the tense hands that grip your thighs, feeling those claws flex beneath his skin, naturally responding to their owner's pent-up emotion and energy in the only way they ever knew how. He's obviously still unsatisfied, raging to let loose. You're jolted from that thought as he bites into the soft side of your waist, licking over his bite in a soothing way. Helping him out, you slip your shirt over your head, tossing it aside like every other piece of clothing. Without a word, he gets to his feet, taking it as his cue to lick his way between your breasts and into the crook of your neck.

He roughly pulls your hips flush to his, his chest practically heaving from the deep inhale he takes from where he stays buried in your neck. He's never been one for subtleties, especially not when those hips start to hungrily rut into yours, and his hard-on, hardly hidden in his briefs, is straining for attention. Grinding with him, you hook your thumb beneath the burlap brown band as your fingers tangle through the dark locks of hair on the back of his neck.

"You're not very good at this taming thing," he finally breaks his silence with a cocky grumble, pressing his lips to your cheek. At his comment, your hand wraps around the front of his collar again, knuckles to his throat.

"Good thing I don't want to tame you," you softly sass back, turning to meet his lips and tracing them with your tongue. He shows off his fangs with a low growl, grip tightening on your thighs before he roughly hoists you up to wrap around his waist. It's only seconds for him to spin around and plant your back on the bed, his much heavier form coming down with you, wasting no time to ravish your throat with sloppy kisses and lovebites.

You can only tilt your head back and moan softly to the ceiling, much to his purr of approval as he continues his assault, even while awkwardly shuffling between your legs to rid his too-tight boxers. You know he's finally done it when the heat of his cock presses at your entrance and a hand pushes a thigh aside to give him more room to work with. Despite still being soaked from your romp just minutes ago, he's still not the easiest fit when he pushes into you, mirroring you with lips parted in a silent moan and eyes screwed shut. Even with the sting of your nails in his bicep, he keeps sinking into you, giving you no time to adjust to the pleasurable burn of him filling you to the brim.

Cock sitting heavy against your cervix, Logan grinds you into the mattress, nestling back into your neck tongue first. Muscular arms cage your legs against his hips and his fists wrap into the sheets as he instantly ruts into you like an animal in heat. Once again, the only sounds filling the room are whimperish moans and heavy panting being outshined by the lewdness of how wet each thrust of his cock and each slap of his balls sounds against your soaked heat.

Hot breath fans over your skin with a low rumble when you pull at his hair, the growl vibrating from his chest through yours and only adding to the growing tension in your core. He lifts himself when you tense around him, bowed up above you as if in concentration and chest heaving with his wild panting. You look up at him through your lashes, a few dark strands hanging over his forehead and loose collar hanging over his collarbones. The sight alone could send you close to the edge, already throbbing around him, but you needed him close again.

Dark eyes flicker to you at the feel of your hand on his chest, playing through the thick body hair there before wrapping around the burlap brown band hanging from his throat. He obediently lets you pull him down with the little strength you have left, his own hips faltering as you pull his face into your chest. He moans low, tongue lolling against your skin as he picks up the pace again, hips stiff and fists tight around the sheets. He's just as close as you are, but his deep and well-aimed thrusts are determined to get you there first.

He can smell it, hear the soft whines from your chest and feel your legs squirm under his arms, and groans deeply at how tightly you clench around his cock and hold his face to your chest as you come around him. His steady pace finally slows, stilling as deep as he can within you and cumming with a low growl. He keeps you caged and pressed into the mattress, panting hotly against you. Your fingers gently play with his hair while you come down, other hand still holding onto the collar while he gently nuzzles and rubs his face between your breasts, as if you didn't already smell like every part of him.

After several moments, he finally lifts himself from you, pulling out from your messy core and wasting no time going down on you, savoring the mixed scents of your essences and greedily cleaning you up. With a gasped-out moan, you tug desperately at his hair, only being answered with that possessive growl that means he isn't letting you go anytime soon.

#wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine x reader smut #wolverine fic #wolverine smut #wolverine imagines #wolverine one shot #logan howlett #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett oneshot #logan howlett x reader smut #logan howlett imagine #x men #x men x reader #x men smut #marvel smut #marvel #marvel x reader

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midnightshindig · 4 months ago

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cecil x assistant reader 🙏 keep up the great work!!

Cecil x Assistant!Reader

Don't have a lot to say on this one, but this'll probably be my last one for the night!

And thank you, I try my best <3

hcs under the cut!

You're run ragged

and I mean RAGGED

you're his errand person, running fetch quest after fetch quest

but you're skilled

and you get the job done.

Which is why when Cecil needs nuclear codes or a coffee or a full report on the state of some niche supervillain organization from the 90s, you're his person.

You're his assistant.

Which is almost a greater honor than whatever Donald does.

Everyone pities you

Having to be Cecil's lackey? God what a hell unto itself

But they don't know that Cecil treats you very well

It's because you're competent and pretty and sweet but stern

And after years of being his assistant, the two of you have grown together.

when your boyfriend kicks you out of your shared apartment, Cecil offers the spare room in his apartment until they can find you a place to stay

When you get your arm broken in a rubble accident, Cecil signs your cast in invisible ink, writing "Get well soon <3" only visible under a blacklight

When you have a meltdown and he finds out it's because your Dad died, he stops as much as he can to send you home for the week.

So when Valentines day rolls around and Cecil notices you leaving cute sticky notes on his requests, he's not surprised

A stack of paperwork topped with a "<3" on a pink sticky note

His coffee sporting a "have a good day" on a blue sticky note

it culminates when he asks you to get him a specific box from a storage closet, topped with a "Haii <33" on a green sticky note

He takes off the note, and passes the box back to you

"What?" you ask, tilting your head

"It's for you, for being such a good assistant." His voice is levelled as always, but with a small smile to his face

You open the box, a simplistic but gorgeous (to your taste) electric watch lay inside. It fit comfortably on your wrist, the screen not too big or bulky to be useful.

"Thank you, Cecil. I feel bad, I didn't get you a gift."

He shook his head "Don't, your assistance is the best gift I could get."

The two of you share a sweet moment, before Cecil's eyes drift away

"But, if you wanted to do me a favor and come get dinner with me tonight, I wouldn't turn that down."

You smile, a coy, silly smile

"Yknow, I don't think I'm busy with anything."

"Well now you are" He smiles, marking something on his computer "Can you get me Donald? I need him."

Cute moment over, and you transitioned comfortably back into "work mode"

Professional business only

But you don't miss the way he watches you as you leave

and he doesn't miss the friendly wink you throw back at him as the door closes behind you.

Dinner is incredible, and Cecil is a perfect gentleman

You know you're not working, but you still can't help but be helpful to him, and he can't help doing the same for you

It's like clockwork between the two of you, you pouring his drink and him flagging down the waiter when they get your order wrong, handling it on your behalf

It's a well-oiled machine, but one that leaves room for romance

You don't miss how he keeps sliding his hand into yours on the top of the table

and he doesn't miss your shoe lifting the hem of his pant leg

He's so fucking glad he hired you.

#invincible show #invincible #invincible season 3 #invincible fanfic #invincible spoilers #invincible x reader #cecil stedman #cecil stedman & reader #cecil stedman x reader #cecil invincible #cecil x reader #invincible cecil

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ghostchems · 1 month ago

Text

infernal - terzo x f!reader - part nine

wonderful art by the amazingly talented @piaart

author’s note: 18+! mdni! shout to @silverandarsenic-hcs for sending me an ask and lighting a fire under my butt to finish this chapter!!! sometimes that's all it takes. there's some... muff munchin'. also once again unsure if this is even good. part one/ two/ three/ four/ five/ six/ seven/ eight. ao3 link.

"You've been quiet this evening, toppolino."

Terzo stretches out on the rug, the firelight dancing across his white paint, making it luminescent. He's discarded his jacket, the intricate white vest remaining as he rolls his sleeves to his elbows, revealing dark hair dusting his forearms. His tone is teasing but deep down he’s concerned. There is nothing comfortable about this silence and the fact that your gaze is set on everything other than him will not do.

You're nestled in the black floral wingback, feet tucked beneath you like a cat. A half eaten container of Chinese food sits on the side table next to an empty wine glass. Terzo’s eyes sweep over you, his mismatched eyes darkening with raw want. The delicate paint lines at the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly as he tilts his head, studying you like you're a puzzle he's determined to solve.

“Mmm?” You raise your brows and shift in the chair. “I’m just… enjoying the fire.” Terzo grumbles in response, frustration crossing his features.

“Well, enough of that.” He rolls not so gracefully onto his stomach then raises himself on all fours, tilting his head at you. A sly grin spreads across his face as he drinks in your reaction — your cheeks flushing crimson and lips parting so prettily. He begins to prowl towards you on all fours. When he reaches your chair, he sits back on his heels, maintaining eye contact as he takes the fingertip of one white glove between his teeth. He pulls, slowly, deliberately, until his hand is bare. The second glove follows, both discarded carelessly on the carpet.

The effect it has on you makes him growl low in his throat, eyes darkening. You want him and he can tell.

"Come here," he purrs, reaching for your ankle where it's tucked beneath you. You're speechless. You let him pull your legs out from underneath you, unfolding them until your feet rest on the floor. His hands slide up your calves, thumbs pressing into the muscles there. When he reaches your knees, he gently spreads them apart, making space for himself between them.

He looks up at you through his dark lashes, a wicked smile playing at his lips. "There's my good girl."

“Terzo—“ His teeth close over the fabric of your leggings just above your knee. You suck in a sharp breath at the pressure, just on the edge of painful. He pulls back slightly, mouthing at the spot while his hands slide higher up your thighs, thumbs pressing firmly into the sensitive flesh.

"I demand your attention, 'fetta," he murmurs against your thigh, breath hot through the thin fabric. He works his way higher, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses that make you squirm.

“You have it,” you gasp, fingers tangling in his soft lock as his mouth reaches the crease of your thigh. Even through the fabric of your leggings, the press of his tongue makes you arch. You whimper as he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your leggings, slowly tugging them down. A shaky groan falls from his lips, so pleased with you as you lift your hips. He marvels at the soft skin on your inner thighs, a hand skimming along them. His eyes fall to your underwear, already damp.

Terzo’s nothing more than a starved man in this moment. Starved for the taste of pussy. For attention. For putting his mouth to good use again.

And for you.

He leans forward and traces his tongue over the thin fabric of your underwear. Your hips buck involuntarily at the contact, a soft gasp falling from your lips. He chuckles against you, the vibration sending shivers up your spine as his fingers dig into your thighs, holding you firmly in place. His eyes lock with yours, glazed over and black with lust. He drags the flat of his tongue over you again, more deliberately this time.

A ragged moan escapes you as your head falls back against the chair. You tug at his hair just enough to make him growl against your core. The vibration sends shivers through your thighs, making them quiver around his head.

"I… I need to take these off now, ‘fetta," he husks, his cheek against your thigh as he looks up at you with pleading eyes. You nod eagerly, lifting your hips just enough for him to slide the thin fabric down your legs. He tosses them aside, his gaze darkening as he takes in the sight of you completely exposed to him. His lips part, a soft sound of appreciation escaping him.

The sight of you spread before him, wet and aching has his mouth watering. The first direct touch of his tongue has you arching off the chair, a desperate mewl bubbling past your lips. Terzo responds with a deep, satisfied groan, the sound of a man finally tasting what he's been dreaming of. His eyes flutter closed as he savors you blissfully.

"I've wanted this since I first….” He cuts himself off with a scoff, his lips against you still. “Since I read your resume.” A confession, a dark one. Thighs tense beneath his grasp, his eyes darting up to see your face. Your brows are knit so tight, lips parted with shock. But you stay put. Terzo’s mouth twitches into a smirk before settling his gaze back on what lies in front of him. "Dreamed of how you would taste on my tongue,” he snarls, his mouth lowered to press a searing kiss to your throbbing core.

His tongue delves deeper, exploring every inch of you as he spreads you open with his thumbs. Your fingers tighten in his hair, squeezing your eyes shut from the building tension. Terzo sees this and lets out a pleased growl against you. Your world narrows to the hot press of his mouth.

A loud "Oh God!" escapes your lips, your head thrown back against the chair. He pauses momentarily, a flash of something like irritation crossing his features. His fingers dig slightly harder into your thighs. A breathless laugh bubbles from your throat as you look down at him. "Sorry, should I be saying 'Satan' instead?" You’re half-teasing.

Terzo slowly shakes his head, his mouth inches from your throbbing cunt. He’s in a dream. He knows what to tell you to do and he knows that you’ll obey. His head lifts, his eyes burning with a dark mixture of desire and wickedness.

It’s over for you in this moment. How delicious is it that he knows and feels this now.

He leans back slightly, just enough to break contact but keep you trembling on the edge. His voice drops to a gravelly command that sends shivers racing down your spine. "Say Papa," he instructs, his breath hot against you, waiting expectantly for your compliance.

Your breath catches in your throat, heat flooding your cheeks at his command. Papa Emeritus il Terzo. That was his title. The word you screamed this morning

“Papa," you whisper, the word barely audible even in the quiet room. A deep, primal growl rumbles from his chest, shuddering at the sounds of your voice. His cock throbs painfully against his tight dress pants. He's achingly hard, has been since he first dropped to his knees before you, but his own pleasure is secondary to devouring you completely. His mouth descends on you again with renewed vigor. Lost in the taste of you, grinding his hips against nothing as he devours you with desperate enthusiasm. The sounds he makes are almost animalistic - guttural groans and possessive snarls that make your toes curl.

"Ti adoro, ‘fetta," he pants between wet, messy strokes of his tongue. His words dissolve into another long, appreciative moan as you roll your hips against his eager mouth.

"Papa, please," you whimper, the title falling from your lips more naturally now. He doubles his efforts, tongue circling your clit with determined strokes. The tension builds rapidly, your thighs trembling around his head as you teeter on the edge. When he slides two gloved fingers inside you while sucking hard on your clit, stars explode behind your eyes. Your back arches off the chair as you come with a cry of "Papa!" that echoes through the room.

Terzo works you through your orgasm, his movements becoming gentler as you come down from your high. When you finally collapse back against the chair, he places one last kiss to your inner thigh before looking up at you with smug satisfaction in his mismatched eyes.

"Beautiful," he purrs, his painted face glistening in the firelight. “I am going to carry you to bed like a true gentleman, puffetta.”

You let out a small "oop!" as he lifts you with surprising ease, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. Your mind drifts hazily to his earlier confession as he carries you up the stairs - how he'd wanted this, wanted you, since first seeing your resume. It should disturb you, how long he's been thinking about having you like this. Instead, a delicious shiver runs through you. The thought of him fantasizing about you all this time, imagining how you'd taste... it's filthy. Depraved, even. And yet…

Nestling closer into his chest, you breathe in his sweet scent. The gentle sway of his steps lull you towards sleep, strong, warm arms holding you securely against him. He brings you to his room. Your body feels impossibly heavy as Terzo sets you down. The sheets are cool against your heated skin, a soft sigh escaping your lips as your head hits the pillow. The sound of running water drifts from the bathroom, punctuated by Terzo imitating an opera singer. You roll your eyes, sinking deeper into the mattress.

Your phone lights up beside you, the screen casting a blue glow in the dimly lit room. With a sigh, you reach for it, squinting against the brightness. It's your roommate.

Hey, girl. I’ve been hoping to catch you in person but our schedules must be opposite, haha. Wanted to let you know that I’ve found an apartment for myself. I’ll be moving out at the end of our lease. Happy to help find someone to takeover if you wanna stay

Let me know!

You suck in a breath and reread the text again. “Oh shit. Oh fuck.” Stress immediately overwhelms you, a tightness forming in your chest. The lease ends in a month. Just thirty days to figure out this out.

The notification seems to ripple through your body, leaving you numb and frozen in place. Your mind swims, thoughts racing too fast to capture any single one. What will you do? Where will you go? How much will it cost? The questions pile up, tangling together until all you can do is stare blankly at the screen, paralyzed by the sudden upheaval.

It's as if your brain has short-circuited, unable to process this new information on top of everything else. The emotional whiplash of the day—from intense pleasure to sudden anxiety—leaves you utterly drained. You can't even form a coherent thought, much less a plan.

You blink slowly at your phone, fingers hovering uselessly over the keyboard. You should respond. You should start looking for options. You should... should...

Eyes flutter as the bathroom light spills into the bedroom, casting Terzo's elongated shadow across the floor. The bed dips as he slides in beside you, his body radiating warmth. Arms wrap tightly around you.. Your exhaustion is bone-deep, consciousness already slipping away as you feel his warm breath against your ear. He whispers something, the words lost in the fog of your nearly-sleeping mind. You mumble an incoherent response, a string of sleepy nonsense that makes no sense even to you.

Terzo's chest vibrates with a soft laugh against your back, the sound rich and warm. The last thing you register before sleep claims you completely is the gentle pressure of his lips against your temple.

You groan and stretch, your limbs heavy with sleep as consciousness slowly returns. The bed beside you is empty and cold - Terzo must have been up for a while. Your head throbs dully, a reminder of last night's wine, but there's something else pulling you from the cozy cocoon of blankets: the unmistakable aroma of breakfast wafting up from downstairs.

The scent of butter and cheese mingles with coffee, making your stomach growl despite the lingering headache. You blink blearily at the ornate ceiling, debating whether to venture out of the warm bed. A melodic humming drifts up from what must be the kitchen, accompanied by the gentle clink of dishes.

Finally, hunger wins out over sleepiness. You swing your legs over the side of the bed, shivering slightly in the morning air. Your clothes from yesterday are neatly folded on a nearby chair - definitely Terzo's doing. You pull them on quickly before padding barefoot toward the stairs, following the enticing smell and the sound of his voice.

You find him in the kitchen, white vest traded for a plain white t-shirt, hair slightly mussed from sleep. He's humming an unfamiliar tune as he stirs something in a pan, his hips swaying slightly to his own melody. The sight would be endearing if your head wasn't pounding and your stomach wasn't in knots from last night's text.

"Ah, toppolino! Just in time." He beams at you over his shoulder, wielding a spatula with flourish. "I make the best eggs in all of Italy. Or at least, that's what the sisters used to tell me." He winks, turning back to the stove where a pan of scrambled eggs sizzle.

You pour yourself a cup of coffee from the fresh pot, inhaling the rich aroma. The caffeine is desperately needed - especially with the weight of your housing situation hanging over your head. You try to push the thought away, focusing instead on how the morning light catches the black paint around Terzo's eyes, making his green one pop.

"Sit, sit!" He gestures dramatically with the spatula. "Let Papa take care of you this morning." There's a playful glint in his mismatched eyes as he slides a generous portion of eggs onto a plate. They're swimming in cheese, probably enough cholesterol to kill a small horse, but they smell divine.

“They smell really good. I didn’t know you could cook?” You push around the eggs on your plate, wanting to wait for him before trying them.

"That's because eggs are all I can make without burning the kitchen down," he admits with a sheepish grin, sliding into the chair across from you. "Once, I tried to make pasta for my brothers The kitchen was closed for three days for repairs." He sighs dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. "But these!" He points at your plate with his fork. "These, I have mastered."

You can't help but giggle at his theatrical retelling, the image all to clear of Terzo clanging around in the kitchen, filling the place with smoke, spilling boiling water, etc. filling your mind.

“If they smell so good, why haven’t you eaten yet, ‘fetta?”

“I was waiting for you.” Your voice comes out quieter than you intended and his expression softens immediately.

"Amore, you are too sweet. But per favore, eat! The eggs will get cold, and then I will be very sad." He reaches across the table to pat your hand affectionately before digging into his own plate with enthusiasm.

You take a bite of the eggs and can't help but let out a small moan of appreciation. They really are incredible - perfectly fluffy and loaded with just the right amount of cheese. The morning sun streams through the kitchen windows, casting everything in a warm golden glow.

"The garden looks beautiful," you comment between bites, gesturing toward the window. The neat rows of plants sway gently in the morning breeze.

"The pepperoncini are finally growing," he says proudly, gesturing to a row of small pepper plants. "I almost killed them twice, but they are resilient little things."

When you've both finished eating, he reaches across the table to take your hand, his thumb tracing lazy circles against your palm. You sit in comfortable silence, sipping your coffee, enjoying the simple intimacy of the moment.

“I was thinking, ehhh… I would have some film time today.” Terzo stretches in the doorframe, his long limbs cast in stark shadows against the morning light. "I got the projector is working again, and I have a film I've been meaning to watch for ages." He runs a hand through his dark hair, the black paint around his eyes somehow still immaculate. “Join me?”

“Oh, that would be so nice but I just - I have some things to take care of.” Your anxiety is palpable. His eyes narrow, the playful look on his face faltering. He sees right through you, you know it. But he doesn’t acknowledge it.

“I will be in the den if you change your mind, amore.” He uses his entire body to blow you a kiss. It makes you smile and laugh.

You watch him leave, unable to stop the small smile tugging at your lips. There's something endearing about seeing him like this - so at ease, so genuinely happy. Gone is the brooding, mysterious employer who first hired you. In his place is someone warm, playful, almost... domestic?

Your coffee has cooled to the perfect temperature, and as you take a sip, you find yourself replaying little moments from the past few days. The way he purrs whenever you are near. How his accent gets thicker when he's excited. The gentle way he carried you to bed last night. He made you breakfast.

“Ugghhhh.”

You like him so much. There's something surprisingly sweet about him that you hadn't expected to find.

A crash from the basement interrupts your dreamy thoughts. Chills run up your spine as the sound morphs into a soft Clair De Lune. That fucking piano. You had forgotten how it shook you the day before and how Terzo hardly paid it any attention once he had you in front of the fireplace. He had showered you with praise, shoved some wine in your hand and ordered chinese food. All an effort to distract you. Some of your dreamy thoughts turn sour.

The ghostly piano plays throughout the afternoon. You finish updating Terzo's calendar, process the outstanding invoices, and make sure all the utility payments are scheduled. The work keeps your hands busy, but every so often you focus on the sounds floating up from beneath the floorboards, Clair De Lune ever present, weaving in melodies from Devil Church, Spoksonat and He is.

It mingles with the muffled sounds of Arsenic and Old Lace, punctuated by occasional bursts of animated Italian as Terzo reacts to scenes. You can picture him so clearly, gesturing dramatically at the screen. Not once does he acknowledge the basement.

By the time you finish your tasks, your mood has soured considerably. Great state of mind to begin apartment hunting. The search begins.

Your laptop screen glows with dozens of open tabs - apartment listings, rental websites, Facebook housing groups. After spending some time looking, there are several options that don’t sound all that bad. You're surprised at the amount that are within your budget. After all, this job has helped you save far more than any other. The thought brings a small wave of relief - you're in a better financial position than you've ever been, really. Maybe this change, while unexpected, isn't the catastrophe it first seemed. You can make it on your own, find a place that's... normal.

The sound of Terzo's footsteps on the stairs makes you quickly minimize the browser window, though you're not sure why you feel the need to hide it. The familiar creaking of floorboards that you've come to recognize as his pacing. You try to focus back on the listings.

Just as you're scrolling through another apartment listing, a soft creak in the floorboards announces his presence before you see him. The familiar sound makes your heart skip, even as you try to maintain focus on the screen in front of you. You can feel his eyes on you.

“What is this, eh?” Terzo looms in the doorway, head tilted as he studies your laptop screen. “You are moving?”

"My roommate just texted," you say quietly, running a hand through your hair. "She's moving out at the end of our lease. In a month." You show him your phone screen, the messages still displayed. "I need to find a place."

His mouth opens, then closes, eyebrows furrowing as he processes your words. "Move in here," he says simply, as if it's the most obvious solution in the world. "There are plenty of rooms, and you already spend most of your time here anyway.”

"Oh, I couldn't," you say gently, shaking your head. "That wouldn't be... appropriate."

"And why not?" His tone is light but there's an edge to it. "It makes perfect sense, no? The commute would be nothing. And I would not charge you rent, of course.” He’s slinks closer to you, his one hand coming to rest on your shoulder.

"Terzo..." You fidget with your coffee cup, avoiding his intense gaze. "I-I think I need my own space. This is still new. And living here… seems like a lot. Big step, and all*.*"

His expression shifts, a predatory gleam entering his mismatched eyes as he stalks toward you. "Tesoro," he purrs, voice dropping to that velvet register that usually makes your knees weak. "Perhaps we can... discuss this further?" His fingers trail along your arm, but you step back, shaking your head.

Seeing his seduction failing, his demeanor hardens. "You like when I'm rough with you, yes?" he growls, pressing into your space. "When I take control?" For a moment, heat floods your cheeks at the memory, but you force yourself to stand your ground.

"That's not going to work this time," you say firmly, though your voice shakes slightly. "This isn't about... that."

His jaw tightens, a flash of frustration crossing his painted features. "Ah, you are being difficult, tesoro. Always so stubborn." He runs a hand through his dark hair, clearly agitated. "I am offering you a solution to your problem, and you refuse it. Why must you make things so complicated?"

He’s not listening to you at all.

“Terzo, the piano has been playing by itself all day!” You erupt, exasperated by the situation. “This place is freaky and you know it. I don’t want to live here. And besides — we’ve only just started…" You gesture vaguely between the two of you, frustration evident in your voice. "I like you so much. I just need time to think about everything, and this house... there's something not right about it. You have to see that."

His expression darkens further. The air grows heavy with an otherworldly tension that makes your skin prickle. "You want to know what's 'not right' about this house, eh?" he growls, his Italian accent thickening with his rising anger. "This house has seen things you cannot imagine, ‘fetta. Things that would make your blood run cold." His voice drops to a dangerous whisper, each word dripping with barely contained fury. "You think a piano playing itself is frightening? That's nothing compared to what truly dwells within these walls."

A chill runs down your spine as realization dawns. He’s not talking about the house. He’s talking about himself. You almost want to laugh but look on his face stops you. Is he joking? It can’t be him — he’s just a guy. A sad, retired rocker. Isn’t he?

The silence stretches between you, thick with unspoken words and mounting tension. His earlier fury seems to crack slightly, revealing something vulnerable underneath - a flash of hurt in those mismatched eyes that makes your chest ache. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and controlled, but there's an edge of pain that cuts through his carefully maintained composure.

"You want to run, tesoro? You want to pretend none of this exists?" His voice cracks on the last word, betraying the depth of emotion he's trying to mask.

“I’m not the one pretending.” You can’t hold back anymore. Ever since the phone appeared you’ve been on edge, you’ve felt crazy and you’ve pushed those feelings down because of how he’s continued to react. "You're torturing me. You've been keeping me in the dark about what's happening, never being quite truthful about anything. And you want me to live here? I don’t know anything about you Terzo.”

This silence is different, more dangerous. The way he stands there, perfectly still, jaw clenched and eyes burning with cold fury - it's unsettling. There's none of his usual dramatic gesturing or passionate Italian exclamations. Just that deadly quiet rage simmering beneath the surface, making the air feel thick and heavy around you.

“Leave. Now.”

He’s perfectly threatening.

You stare at him for a long moment, your heart pounding in your chest. Without saying a word, you stuff your laptop into your bag, movements sharp with anger. When you look up, he's already melted back into the shadows of the house, disappearing as if he was never there.Fury and hurt propel you forward as you storm through the dark hallway. The piano has finally, mercifully stopped its endless playing.

You wrench the front door open and slam it behind you with enough force to rattle the windows, letting the sound punctuate your exit.

#terzo #terzo x reader #papa emeritus iii x reader #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus x reader #ghost fanfic #ghost band fanfic #ghost fanfiction

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rhiannonsknife · 6 months ago

Text

── ❆ DAY 24: christmas with the yellowjackets

— summary: christmas eve with the yellowjackets hcs (shauna. jackie. lottie. nat. van. tai. laura lee.)

— warnings: fluff. established relationships. gn!reader.

shauna shipman

❆ christmas eve at shauna’s is endearingly chaotic. after a slightly overwhelming family dinner, shauna catches your eye from across the table, her expression speaking volumes. as soon as the dishes are cleared, she tugs you by the hand up to her attic bedroom. It’s small but cozy, filled old soccer trophies, faded posters, a stack of dusty books, and most importantly, it’s just the two of you. she pulls out a half-empty bag of holiday chocolates she stashed away earlier and plops down on the bed, grinning as she offers you one. “this is way better than listening to my mom ask about my ‘five-year plan,’ right?” she teases, leaning her head on your shoulder as you unwrap the candy and settle in for a quiet moment together.

❆ shauna insists on a tradition she started as a kid: exchanging one gift on christmas eve. she pulls out a small box she’s been hiding under the tree all evening and hands it to you with a sheepish smile. “i couldn’t wait for this one,” she admits softly, watching you unwrap it. inside is something thoughtful: simple, but so uniquely her. when it’s your turn, you pass her a neatly wrapped book you’d been meaning to share with her for months: it’s your favorite, but you’ve left small notes and annotations between the lines.

❆ shauna definitely isn’t one for large, over the top gestures. instead, she finds subtle ways to show she’s thinking about you. while everyone’s distracted during dessert, she quietly slides the last piece of hers onto your plate with a small, knowing smile. later, as the family gathers around the living room to watch a movie, she settles beside you, her knee pressed against yours. the way her fingers softly brush against yours under the blanket you’re sharing says everything she can’t in a room full of people.

jackie taylor

❆ jackie insists on everything being perfect for christmas eve, and that includes you. she spends way too long fussing over her outfit, then quickly turns her attention to yours. whether it’s a cozy sweater or something more festive, jackie 100% makes it her mission to ensure you both look like you’ve stepped out of one of these cheesy holiday romcoms she makes you watch. only then, the two of you join her family for dinner. of course, her mom comments on how good you both look, which jackie takes as confirmation that all her efforts were worth it.

❆ jackie adores introducing you to her extended family, playing the role of the best friend perfectly. they might not know the true nature of your relationship, but she makes a point in showing you off nonetheless. she clings to your arm, proudly showing you off and basking in the compliments about how amazing the two of you look together. when her little cousins start to get rowdy, she ropes you into playing board games with them, determined to prove she can win more than just soccer matches.

❆ after dinner, jackie insists on dragging you outside for a walk in the snow where it’ll just be the two of you. complete with scarves, gloves, and her earmuffs. it’s her favorite part of the day; walking hand-in-hand as the neighborhood lights twinkle around you. in her block, the neighbors went all out with their decorations and it’s fun to wander around and look at the different lights and houses. at some point, she’ll stop, her cheeks rosy from the cold, and kiss you softly, whispering, “merry christmas”

lottie matthews

❆ on the 24th , lottie wakes up early, watching you sleep from her desk while she works on the final touches of your present. by the time you wake up too, she’s finishing up her letter for you. you blink your eyes open to the bright, white light coming in through the windows and find her with her legs drawn to her chest and her eyes on you. she gives you something meaningful, albeit a little too expensive for your personal liking, like a charm bracelet with a symbol that reminds her of your connection, and watches nervously as you open it, her face only lighting up when you smile and approve.

❆ with you, christmas feels a lot less lonely and lottie makes use of that in every possible way, relishing in your company. you can spend the day however the two of you like, so she takes you out before anyone else is up, only returning after a thorough walk through the snowy streets of wiskayok. she spends the whole time clinging to your hand and whether there’s something for you to talk about, or just comfortable silence, you both enjoy each other’s company. “i think christmas is way better with you here” she admits before kissing you gently.

❆ she has a sweet but quirky side that shines during the holiday season: insisting you join her in lighting candles for “good vibes” before dinner, picking out the prettiest ornaments for the tree, and even convincing you to meditate with her by the fireplace after the chaos of the day. by the end of the night, you’re both cuddled under a blanket, sipping tea while she curls up against you.

nat scatorccio

❆ christmas eve with nat starts quieter than most. she’s not even used to it being a big deal at all. however, since she started dating you, she’s been showing up on your doorstep every christmas to spend the holiday with you instead: knocking on your door with a lopsided grin and a couple of small, awkwardly wrapped presents in hand. again: she’s not used to big celebrations, but the sight of your warm, bustling home instantly softens her.

❆ nat, being nat, spends a lot of her time deflecting with sarcasm, trying to pretend like none of this is getting to her at all, complaining about your aunt’s fruitcake or your dad’s bad jokes. but you can tell she’s secretly enjoying herself by the smiles she flashes you from across the room whenever the mask accidentally slips. when your family hands her a stocking they filled for her last minute, her eyes widen in surprise, and she mutters something about how “totally cheesy” it is while holding onto it like it’s the best thing she’s ever received.

❆ after dinner, nat drags you (and your siblings/cousins) outside for some “fresh air” and immediately starts a snowball fight, pelting you with snow while laughing so hard she nearly falls over. when you finally tackle her to the ground, pinning her in the snow, she grabs your face with cold hands and kisses you impulsively. “merry christmas,” she says, grinning up at you. “now help me up before i freeze to death here!”

van palmer

❆ van is not a morning person, not even on the day of christmas eve, so unless you wake her, she’s staying in bed as long as possible - even if you’ve got plans for the evening. when you do finally poke and kiss her awake, she insists on dragging the blankets with her to the couch, still half-asleep but grinning as she wishes you a lazy, “merry christmas.” she’s the kind of girlfriend who wraps herself around you on the sofa and refuses to let you go until she’s fully awake and ready for coffee.

❆ christmas movies are non-negotiable with van. she pulls out a stack of VHS tapes she’s been keeping since october and insists you watch them all with her. she recites all the best lines, laughs way too loud at the cheesy parts, and even makes up drinking game rules if you’re up for it.

❆ van 100% thrives on the energy of the holidays, so she makes sure to keep things fun whenever she can: whether it’s putting way too much whipped cream on your hot chocolate, building an absurdly decorated gingerbread house with you, or starting a wrapping-paper-ball fight in the living room, she’s all about making you laugh and creating ridiculous memories together. at the end of the day, she pulls you close under the glow of the christmas lights and whispers, “this might be the best christmas yet”

taissa turner

❆ tai, unlike van, is also up rather early, making sure everything is perfect for the day. she’s not overly sentimental, but lets her thoughtfulness show in little ways, like sneaking downstairs to make you coffee and setting up your favorite breakfast before you’re even awake. she’ll also “randomly” give you a gift so personal and meaningful that you feel overwhelmed in the best way possible.

❆ tai knows how to navigate the chaos of christmas eve much better than you do yourself. if you spend it at your place, she happily helps your family keep everything on track, whether it’s herding your younger siblings or stepping in to help with cooking. but she always makes time to steal quiet moments with you, slipping away to sit outside or wander through the snow, her gloved hand intertwined with yours whenever possible.

❆ if things ever get overwhelming (whether it’s a noisy dinner table or your little cousins running wild) tai is always the first to notice and pulls you aside, offering calm reassurance, a subtle shoulder rub, a tight hug, or whatever else you might need. by the end of the night, you’re curled up on the couch together, her arm draped around you as she murmurs softly, “i love spending today with you”

laura lee

❆ laura lee wakes up extra early on the 24th. it is definitely her favorite holiday and she’s even more excited to share it with you. in the morning,she spends some time reflecting on ‘the meaning of the season’ and invites you to join her -not because she expects you to share her faith exactly, but because it’s important to her to include you in something so personal. you sit together by the tree, sipping cocoa as she quietly talks about gratitude and the hope she finds in the season.

❆ laura lee has a gentle way of making literally everything feel peaceful and meaningful. whether it’s the way she smiles at you during a family dinner or how she softly sings along to christmas songs while holding you close, she makes you feel like the most important part of her day. by the end of the night, you realize you’ve never felt more at home than you do with her.

❆ laura lee appreciates it when you join her for christmas church service, even if you don’t share her beliefs. she doesn’t take your presence for granted, holding your hand tightly in hers as you sit together in the glow of candles and the sound of hymns. afterward, she’s all soft smiles as she thanks you for being there with her. later that night, curled up together under a blanket, she reads to you from your favorite book while you rest your head on her shoulder.

— a/n: merry christmas to all those of you who celebrate today and/or tomorrow!! thank you for joining me on this writing challenge! i really hope you enjoyed reading these as much as loved writing them for you guys! you can find all 24 christmas fics here!! <3

#˙ ❆ ̟ !! ─ christmas works #shauna shipman #shauna shipman x reader #jackie taylor #jackie taylor x reader #nat scatorccio #nat scatorccio x reader #lottie matthews #lottie matthews x reader #van palmer #van palmer x reader #taissa turner #taissa turner x reader #laura lee yellowjackets #laura lee x reader #yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader

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