#really warms the cold heart of mine

[fly-chicken]

A Pragmatic and surprisingly comforting perspective about the Trump 2nd Presidency from the ACLU

***Apologies if this is how you found out the 2024 election results***

Blacked out part is my name.

I’m not going to let this make me give up. It’s disheartening, and today I will wallow, probably tomorrow too

AND

I will continue to do my part in my community to spread the activism and promote change for the world I want to live in. I want to change the world AND help with the dishes.

And I won’t let an orange pit stain be what stops me from trying to be better.

A link to donate to the ACLU if able and inclined. I know I am

[cartoonghosts]

need to be in linne doran at night again. i miss her and i miss how gentle she is and how quiet and alive it is there. i have this vivid memory of being at the old community school village, one of my favourite counselors had just finished telling a story, it was probably 11 30 or so, we had a fire going and were just chatting and laughing. it was summer and the stars are still in the back of my lungs, wrapping around my spine. i was taught a song that i think is staying in my bone marrow for the rest of my life. whenever i hear it, it's in two voices- the voice of the instructor i learned it from, and the voice of a close friend secondarily, weaving around it. i'm getting it tattooed on my leg eventually as part of my manta rays / stars calf tattoo and it feels like im missing something bc i dont have it. its such a part of me, i remember singing it to myself, writing it down in notebooks and journal apps, and ive never once forgot any part of it. when i heard my friend singing it for the first time a while ago i got so excited because its like- me too. i also have that song in my cartilage and tendons and bone marrow. i have it too.

[your-internet-bf]

It's been a while since you've seen a doctor, and you're nervous as you follow the nurse back to my office. What's there to be nervous about, this is just a little checkup, right? You notice the nurse's manicured burgundy nails as she knocks sharply on the door. She turns to you, smiling prettily, and says, "the doctor will see you now."

You push open the door and enter quite a large room. The nurse follows, closing the door behind you. In the center is the examination table, off to the right is a small crowd of young adults, appearing to be made up of men and women, and on the left is me, seated at my desk. "Welcome," I say, standing and extending one hand. My voice is deep, warm, and smooth, and you fumble for a moment, blushing a little, before you remember to shake my hand. Your hand is dwarfed in mine, my strong fingers encircling you, and a thought flashes unbidden through your mind - what would those fingers feel like inside you? - but, come on now, that's really not appropriate...

"I have a few students with me, as you can see. Is that alright?"

"Well, yes, of course!" Why shouldn't it be?

"Excellent. Now, I'm pioneering this new full-body examination method - it's really quite extraordinary, the maladies I can detect this way - but be warned, it is, shall we say, unorthodox. Is that alright?"

Just for a moment, you see something in my eyes, something behind the genial smile and gentle, reassuring tone. Just for a moment, you feel like some specimen, some piece of meat, pinned down under the lights with nowhere to go... but just for a moment. Surely, nothing bad can happen, and I'm a doctor, aren't I? You can trust me. So you swallow your fear, and you acquiesce.

"Excellent! Let's have a seat on the table, if you don't mind, and we'll make a start. Nurse V, if you would..."

As you sit on the table, the clinical, sterile seating a little cold against your skin, the pretty nurse steps behind the table, facing you, waiting for something. From your right, I approach, and you feel again just how much larger than you I am as my broad shoulders block out one of the ceiling lights. With all these people watching you, it takes all you have not to squeeze your legs together, just a little bit.

We begin with a quick examination of your face - "you have beautiful eyes, you know," I purr into one ear. I place one hand on the side of your neck and tilt your head; god, you've been reading too much, haven't you, the way you want these strong, expert fingers to close around your throat.

"Now, open your mouth for me, please." You oblige, and I cup your chin and slide my thumb into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. Your eyebrows jump in surprise, and you look at me questioningly.

I smile again, still inside you. "Unorthodox, remember? Now, close your mouth and try to swallow." From behind, the nurse strokes your cheek with the back of one hand, and you feel a sudden ache between your legs. You close your lips around my thumb and swallow. It tastes... clean, mostly, as one might expect from a doctor, but you can taste the sweat underneath.

"Very good, one more time for me."

You swallow again, and you feel me slide my thumb over the surface of your tongue, pressing down, swirling in circles.

"And, one more time... yes, that's it, good job, very good job."

The praise for this degrading task is more than you can bear, and you squeeze your thighs together. Fuck, it's humiliating, everyone just saw you do that... All these eyes on you, the beautiful nurse behind you, this big, strong doctor with these big, strong hands and that big fucking bulge... but no, this is just a checkup, nothing is going to happen, right?

While you were thinking, I dried my hand off and had begun speaking.

"I'm - I'm sorry?"

"No worries. I was saying, can you remove your top, please? We need to examine your heart and your breathing."

You stare at me. "Remove my - "

"Yes, remove your top. The fewer barriers between me and you, the less interference with my examination." My face is quite serious, almost bored - this really must be routine. You look back at the nurse, and she smiles slightly and nods. So you undress, your nipples betraying you, standing at attention. You blush as the crowd of students looks at you intently. The nurse lays one warm hand on your shoulder, slender fingers gripping you reassuringly, and your eyes are drawn once more to those burgundy nails.

I step in close, and you feel my breath warm on your chest. "Now, observe the stiffness in the patient's nipples - this is to be expected, given the cool air, and it's certainly nothing to be ashamed of," I say, smiling. I press my stethoscope up over your heart, the metal cold on your skin, and your mind is betrayed by the pounding of your heart. My eyes flick up to meet yours, and I grin, predatorily, and once again you feel like a piece of meat beneath the lights.

I examine your breasts, starting with your left. Enclosed in my big, strong hands, I squeeze and push, prod and pull, ostensibly feeling for any abnormalities, but the way my fingers brush over your nipples, the intensity with which I sink them into your soft breasts, heaving now as your breath comes faster... My practiced tongue rasps over one nipple and a tiny moan escapes your lips as you try desperately to hide how much you're enjoying this; try desperately, and fail.

Abruptly, I pull back. "Excellent! All seems well here." I rest one hand on your other shoulder and turn to the students. "Note the pleasure response during this section of the examination, and I hope you were paying attention to the oral technique."

I turn back to you, my eyes dancing as they meet yours. "Fully undress, if you would. The inspection must continue."

Your hands tremble as you slide your clothes down off your waist, and the nurse aids you, her lovely hands stroking along your thighs and calves as she does.

"And spread for us, please."

Obediently, your thighs open, exposing your cunt, your needy, aching wetness, to all.

"Note the beauty of the patient's sex, here. The shape of the folds," I murmur, tracing one finger along your sensitive lips, "the balanced ratio of the clitoris to the vulva overall," sliding two fingers on either side of your clit, squeezing gently between them, "the appropriate pleasure response in - "

You lose what I say as I plunge two fingers inside you, powerful and dextrous, knuckles slipping past your tightness easily. It feels so fucking good to finally have something inside you, after all this aching and teasing, and god, so many people are watching, they're all watching your pussy spread and toyed with by this big, strong, handsome older man, and now the nurse's slender fingers are across your throat and her lips are on your forehead, and she tells you that you're doing so well for me, you've been so good...

My fingers press up inside you, finding your g spot, and with my thumb rubbing on your clit, I start melting you. Waves of pleasure course through your body, you gasp, moan, whimper, and with your eyes closed you can't tell whose lips are so soft on yours, but it feels so fucking good, and all those people are watching and it makes you want it more, your back arching, chest heaving, melting under the attention, and finally, mercifully, you cum, contracting around my fingers, squeezing your thighs together, trembling, shaking, gasping for air. You hear me say something, but you're so overwhelmed with pleasure that all you can make out from my speech is "very, very good".

The hand withdraws from your throat, and I gently, gently, extricate my fingers, and settle my hand atop one thigh, fingers slick with your desire.

The nurse whispers affirmation in your ear as I address the class. "Stimulation in this manner, of the two most sensitive sex stimuli, brings the most consistent and powerful orgasms to those possessing these organs." I stroke the inside of your thigh reassuringly, before turning to you.

"The final part of this examination is seeing how well you handle penetration. I'm going to need your unequivocal verbal consent before proceeding."

The nurse leans in and whispers into your ear, "might I suggest 'please, sir, will you fuck me?'" You'd blush harder if you could.

You swallow, nervously, and there's a twisting in your gut as you say it. "Please," you begin, voice cracking. "Please, sir, will you fuck me?"

"Yes, that is sufficient. I must say, though," I warn, unzipping my jeans, "that I am quite large." I slap my cock down on your tummy, and the sheer weight of it shocks you. You've seen size like this in porn, sure, but fuck, you've never touched something like this. When you tear your gaze away from my cock, I'm grinning down at you, predatory again. "You can back out at any time, you know." My voice is low, teasing, challenging. "Should we continue?"

You nod shakily, and spread your legs a little wider.

One hand on your raised knee, one hand guiding my cock, I push against you. For a moment you realize the exam had to be done in this order; if you weren't so fucking wet, there's no chance you'd be able to take me. But all thoughts are blasted out of your mind as I push harder and slide in.

It's so fucking thick that you can't help but groan. You've never felt so full, so strained inside, being pushed in every direction; you're not built for this, maybe there's just too much, your body is rejecting me - and then I push again, another few inches, and you slam your head back against the padded table, a long, drawn-out "fuuuuuck" wrenched from your lips. You feel my strong hands brace at your hips, and with a final thrust, slamming your cervix up into your guts, moving your entire body, the ridges of my cock sliding deeper and deeper, sliding painfully, pleasurably past your walls, I'm inside you.

The nurse rests her hands on you again, and purrs in your ear, "you're doing so well for him, I know it's hard, it's so hard, but you're doing such a good job, pretty girl..."

Glacially, I pull out, allowing you a moment to rest, before thrusting in again, hands still at your waist. You sob once, loudly, and then you sink into it as I pick up a rhythm, deep, deep strokes inside you. You hear me grunting, whispering something, and I grow more frantic, impaling you a little harder, and through the wall of pleasure you hear me rumble, "nurse V, begin the overstimulation procedure."

"Certainly, doctor." She leans over you, lips fiercely meeting yours, and one of those slender hands reaches down to abuse your clit. An image of those burgundy nails on your cunt flashes through your mind as I continue pounding you, forcing you to spread for me, adjust to me, even as the nurse plays your clit like an instrument, and fuck, she's a virtuoso.

You sing a song of moans and voiceless curses under our combined mastery, knowing your audience is entranced, filled with a blazing, lusty pride. The deep bass of my voice, resonant in your skull, is saying something, but you cannot hear me; you're moaning, groaning, pleading, "yes, yes, oh my god yes" over and over...

The song swells to a crescendo and with two sudden strikes, two powerful thrusts into you, it ends with a thick, hot, sticky white wave of my approval inside you. You feel it pulse deep, deep inside, filling you, load after load delivered straight past your bruised, abused cervix.

You come back to reality with my cum spilling from between your legs, trailing thickly down onto the exam table. I zip up my jeans while the nurse helps dry you off, from all the sweat and saliva. She dabs caringly at your mouth, and you notice that the cloth is dyed the same shade as her lipstick.

"Now," I address the class, "I hope you were paying attention." I rest one hand on your aching, trembling thigh. How many times did you cum with me inside you? How long were all these people watching you writhe beneath me, begging, losing yourself in the pleasure? You have no fucking clue. "This patient has bravely volunteered for each of you to examine her, here and now, while she's available to us."

Your jaw drops. When did you agree to that? You would never - but you were begging, "yes, yes, yes" earlier, weren't you, while I was talking. You agreed. Everyone heard you say it.

"One at a time, please. And," I say to you, grinning wolfishly, "don't worry. I'll be watching the entire time."

[goaskangel]

perv!toji and his sweet virgin gf - part two!

part one

toji’s got you exactly where he wants you. soft and pliable, a little cold to the side of him on the couch. you’re invested in the show broadcasted on the TV, mouth dropped a little with your eyes glued on what’ll happen next. your hands are clenched gently on toji’s shirt as you guys cuddle with a small pull-over on the both of you. 

he couldn’t care less about the show but he’s real intrigued by you. his hands rub and grope at the fat of your thighs carefully, smoothing his knuckles on your cold skin.

his face resting on your head, leaving the occasional kiss to your temple or a sniff of the perfume behind your neck. 

usually the closest he could get without you flustering up immediately was casual cuddling. so these little touches on your legs and his body pressing up behind yours was the biggest privilege to him. he can’t scare you off so easily so he continues.

“awh!” you jolt up slightly when the episode’s left on a cliffhangers, advertisements and trailers play on the cable. “can’t believe it.” whispering as you accept defeat and relax back down again, a pout on your face as your hand trails down to find your boyfriend’s strong hand on your upper thigh. 

“toj’...” your squeeze at him, your body suddenly warming. 

“don’t know how you focused. so invested. i definitely couldn’t pay attention.”  he emphasizes by kneading the fat of your hips. 

you roll from your side to resting your back on the armrest, “mm, you’re so dramatic.” taking your hand to brush your fingers on his sculpted jaw. he takes this time to get a hold of it and pepper kisses on your hand  

“yeah, for good reason.” he speaks between pecs, taking his time to trail down your body. but crawling down quick enough before you can object. cherishing the pieces of skin that’s exposed from your raised shirt, all the soft skin your shorts expose. your arms coming to rest beside you, unsure what to do as the experienced man presses smooches into you. 

deep and possessive mutters come from him, “so perfect. this untouched body, all mine. you know how sexy it is? knowing i’m the only one who knows how you feel?” he dips his head between your thighs as he looks up to your needy but nervous expression. you close your legs to hold any modesty you have left. you’ve never done anything with him, let alone anything with anybody. your hearts racing–it’s too much to decide if you do really want this, what if you embarrass yourself in front of him? he rubs low and shallow circles on your kneecaps, open-mouth kisses on your body. 

“you’re overthinking it, baby. i jus’ wanna make you come, right on my fingers–make you feel so good. that so bad?”

“toji, i don’t…” you pause. 

your fingers dip into the waistband of your shorts and you slide them down. 

“yeah, there she is, my good girl.” he helps you with the rest. he’s so incredibly eager and he shows it. throwing your shorts to the ground like they’re nothing before diving between your legs. he smiles hard at the sticky spot of your panties and presses his thumb at your clothed clit. your back arches off the couch from the sudden impact, starting to moan quietly at how he conditions you to his touch by circling his finger on your wanting bud. before you know it, your only protection is ripped away and toji’s eyeing your cunt like the greedy man he is. he spits a good glob of saliva on the hood and watches how it dribbles down past your folds, slick with your own arousal, to the couch cushions. 

he sucks on his middle finger for a second and teases the tip at your fluttering hole, 

“pretty virgin pussy, you ever take anything besides your own little fingers?”

you shake your head, biting your lip knowing just one of his fingers could deflower you alone. you throb at the thought and buck your hips, “put it in already.” 

“mhm, can’t wait to hear that again.” he squeezes past the soft folds whilst thumbing your clit, his finger digging in carefully as you wince. you’re pouring of soppy gloss as he manages to reach another finger into you, cooing at your little curses and urges. reassuring you with dirty words like you’re so warm, sweet girl. gonna feel this way around my cock when i have my way, huh? gonna sound so pretty when i fuck your little body. tight and fuckin’ wet, bet you taste so good.

he tongues at the mess around your labia and tight hole, making you gasp. something so warm and fluid, nothing like you’ve felt before. just safe vibrators and your hands to make you come but this, this was so much. so much more intense–now he’s fucking your tight pussy with his tongue. it already felt so long and hot in your mouth and now it’s inside you. 

your hips roll, a strong stir in your lower back. “toji–augh, oh! mmm–can’t, it’s so much. gonna come toji i’m close” 

you come undone, right on his mouth as he continues fucking you through your orgasm. praising you and kissing your inner thighs, licking his fingers clean. pressing a few to your clit, making you giggle through exhaustion when he tries kissing your lips when his are covered with your wetness. mmm he can’t wait for the day you let him really love you!

masterlist

taglist : @tojisfourthbiatchoftheweek @booboobear-12 @anthy-jay-ander @euhphoq @duooy

lmk if yall want more/to be added to the taglist!!!!!!!!!!

[ceristelle]

ᝰ.ᐟ YOU’RE COLD. WEAR MINE. → tokyo revengers

prompt. when they offer you their jacket without a word. ft. manjiro “mikey” sano, takemichi hanagaki, ken “draken” ryuguji, chifuyu matsuno & takashi mitsuya

warnings: cursing

you try not to shiver, arms tucked close as you walk beside him under the slowly fading sky.

mikey glances at you once from the corner of his eye, then again, then sighs under his breath.

he slips off his jacket without a word. it’s big, warm, smelling faintly of his favorite sweets and motor oil—and drapes it over your shoulders.

“...mikey?”

he simply shrugs. “you were cold.”

your fingers curl into the fabric instinctively, tugging the jacket closer. it’s heavier than expected, like a hug wrapped in leather.

you open your mouth to thank him, but mikey just reaches for your hand like it’s nothing. “let’s get food. you’re always cold when you’re hungry.”

you’re not sure if he’s teasing or being serious. but either way, your heart feels warmer than your hands now.

takemichi notices you shivering slightly the moment you step out of the convenience store.

“oh! wait—here!” he panics, fumbling with the zipper of his jacket like he’s tasked with defusing a bomb. “s-sorry, i should’ve offered earlier—”

you barely get a word in before he’s wrapping it around you like a blanket, tugging the zipper up clumsily.

“takemichi, i’m fine—”

“no, no, you’re not! your hands are freezing!” he insists, rubbing your arms through your sleeves with furrowed brows. “i didn’t even think about how bad the weather was going to be—”

“you’re so dramatic.”

he pauses. “huh?”

“you’re cute.” you clarify softly with a grin.

takemichi goes red instantly. “i—w-what—!? i’m not—i’m serious!!”

you just laugh, snuggling into the jacket.

you’re standing beside draken’s bike, trying to act tough despite the goosebumps on your arms.

draken notices, of course.

he doesn’t say anything —just walks over, unzips his jacket, and tugs it around your shoulders from behind.

you blink, stunned by the sudden warmth. “ken?”

“you’re cold,” he mutters, like it’s obvious. “should’ve told me.”

“i’m fine, really—”

“just wear it.”

you move slightly to catch the way his ears are pink as he turns away to check the bike again, mumbling something about “freezing your ass off”.

you smile, holding the front of his jacket closed like it’s precious.

it is.

“here, take this.”

chifuyu barely gives you time to process before he’s slipping his hoodie over your head, ruffling your hair a little once it was on.

you stare at him through the too-big fabric. “but you’ll be cold.”

“better me than you,” he replies casually, arms already crossed over his now-thin shirt. “besides, i’m not that cold.”

you frown, tugging at the sleeves. “you always do this.”

he grins. “yeah, and you always look cute in my clothes.”

you tell him you’ll give it back, but the blush on his cheeks gives away how much he likes seeing you wear it.

you keep it on, obviously.

you’re rambling about something that you saw earlier while mitsuya listens attentively, palm placed under his chin as he gazes at you with such tenderness.

you don’t even notice the moment he steps closer to you, pulling off his coat without interrupting.

you pause. “what are you—”

“your hands are shaking,” he murmurs, gently guiding your arms into the sleeves. the fabric slides around you with ease—still warm from him, soft and clean and clearly handmade.

“...you noticed?” you ask softly, feeling your cheeks warm up.

“i always notice,” mitsuya says simply, smoothing the collar. “can’t let you freeze, right?”

you look up to find him already smiling down at you with that calm, steady affection of his— the kind that wraps around your heart like a scarf.

and yeah, you’re warm now. inside and out.

[shyoko]

✧You and another member play fighting, and you end up on top of him ✦༺⊹

This writing is my own; no copies, adaptations, or translations are allowed. I hope you like it. 𓂃 

✦ 3.6K words * Masterlist˚ Taglist₊‧ ✦𓂃 

You can send me all the requests you want before Sunday. I’ll be writing them throughout June and July. After that day, requests will be closed!

enhypen x fem!reader ⚠️ CW: jealousy, angst, emotional tension, possessive behavior, rough intimacy, heated confrontations, wall pinning, intense kissing, dirty talk, slight humiliation, neck kissing, marking (hickeys), affirmations of ownership, insecure behavior, friends-to-lovers tension, make-up, and emotional aftercare.

✧ Heeseung ----------

“Please, Sunoo, lend it to me,” you demanded, sitting next to him and stretching your arm to reach the snack he had bought you—after you had told him over and over again how much you loved it.

You leaned over his body to retrieve it, and he, laughing, held you by the waist to keep you from falling while pulling the package even farther from you. Both of your laughter filled the room, creating a light and fun moment…

Until a dry cough abruptly broke the mood.

Heeseung stood at the door, arms crossed, brow furrowed, and with an expression of anger so intense that it seemed to erase all the joy in an instant. His murderous gaze locked onto the two of you—especially Sunoo.

“What the hell is going on here?” he snapped, his voice cold and razor-sharp.

Sunoo immediately dropped the package and pulled his hand from your waist like it had burned him. The sudden movement made you lose balance, falling onto him. Heeseung barely moved, but his eyes burned with jealousy.

“Are you comfortable, Sunoo?” he asked with a forced, venom-laced smile.

“It’s not what it looks like…” Sunoo tried to explain nervously, raising his hands.

“Oh, really? Because from here it looks like your hands are where they shouldn’t be,” Heeseung interrupted, taking another step toward you. “You think this is funny, or what?”

The tension thickened. Sunoo opened his mouth to say something, but Heeseung had already grabbed your arm—firm but not painful—and hoisted you over his shoulder with determination. His gaze never left Sunoo.

“Don’t ever touch her like that again. Not even as a joke.”

Sunoo nodded silently, swallowing hard, while you, dangling from Heeseung’s shoulder, kicked and protested.

Heeseung walked straight to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. He dropped you face down on the mattress and quickly climbed on top of you, pressing his body against yours.

“You’re mine, damn it. How many times do I have to say it? I don’t like those little games of yours—and even less when they’re with him,” he spat, his lips brushing your ear.

His warm breath hit your skin, but his tone wasn’t sweet this time. He was angry, jealous, consumed by a mix of frustration and intensity.

“Whose are you?”

You squirmed under his body, your heart pounding. But before you could answer, his voice came again, firmer:

“I asked: whose the hell are you? Answer me!”

His lips came down to your neck and bit hard, without care. Then he licked the area, a silent apology for the roughness.

“Yours… I’m yours, Heeseung,” you gasped, breathless.

“That’s right, baby. Only mine,” he whispered, his expression calmer now, though his eyes still blazed.

He placed a soft kiss on your cheek, then wrapped you in his arms and lay down with you, holding you close—as if afraid someone else might ever touch you again.

✧ Jay ----------

The neon lights of the trampoline park danced in colorful flashes, mixing with the loud music and the laughter of the boys. They jumped, fell, screamed. As always, Jay stayed by your side, his hand tightly holding yours—as if claiming you silently.

But the chaos of the place ended up separating you for a few moments. Jake found you first, bursting with energy and flashing that mischievous grin.

“Wanna wrestle? I bet you won’t last a minute,” he said, winking.

“Oh yeah? Want to try me?” you replied through laughter, accepting the challenge without much thought.

It started with playful pushes, clumsy dodges, and stifled shrieks between giggles. Jake circled your waist playfully, catching you to keep you from falling, and you responded by flailing at the air, laughing. But with one bad jump, you lost your balance and fell straight onto him.

Jake laughed, his arms instinctively wrapping around you.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, his voice warm while you stayed on his chest, still laughing uncontrollably.

But then you felt it. That silent pressure that stops time. You looked up—and there was Jay.

His jaw was tight, eyes locked on the scene, breath held in as if one more spark could make him explode. He walked toward you both with firm steps, his expression cold, too cold... too controlled.

“Get up,” he said to Jake, without needing to raise his voice.

Jake, now clearly uncomfortable, helped you stand. Jay approached you. He wasn’t rough, but the way his hand gripped your arm was final—like he was saying come with me without needing to speak.

“Did anything hurt?” he asked gently, scanning you quickly with his eyes, though the anger burning inside him was far from hidden.

“I’m fine, Jay… it was just an accident,” you began, but he didn’t let you finish.

He turned to Jake with a tight, forced smile.

“Didn’t know we were playing ‘roll around with someone else’s girlfriend’ now.”

Jake raised his hands, awkwardly.

“It wasn’t like that, I swear—we were just messing around…”

Jay just stared at him a moment longer. He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. His silence was worse.

Then he looked back at you, took your face in his hands, and leaned in with determination. He kissed you—deep, hard, without restraint. A kiss full of everything he wasn’t saying aloud. Jealousy. Rage. Need. Possession.

When he pulled away, his eyes still held that dark fire.

“Let’s go.”

He took your hand and you followed him, saying nothing more. You got in the car in silence. He played music low as he started the engine. His left hand on the wheel, his right still holding yours—tight.

“Jay… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to happen. We were just playing,” you murmured, staring at his fingers that wouldn’t let you go.

He didn’t answer right away. He just breathed deeply, lips pressed together, and finally pulled over on a quiet street, turning to face you.

“I don’t care if it was just a joke. I didn’t like it. I don’t like seeing you like that with anyone else. I don’t ever want to feel that again,” he said softly, but the intensity in his voice hurt more than if he had yelled.

“It won’t happen again, I promise,” you said, touching his cheek.

Jay closed his eyes for a moment, then leaned in and rested his forehead against yours.

“I love you. But I’m jealous, and I’m terrible at hiding it.”

You hugged him, and this time he kissed you softly, like the world made sense again—just because he was in your arms.

✧ Jake ----------

The music boomed through the speakers while colorful lights bounced off the walls. You were in front of the TV with Ni-Ki, playing Just Dance. Fast movements, nonstop laughter, and him determined to get in your way just to mess with you.

"Come on, focus! You’re losing because of me!" he yelled between laughs, standing right in front of you to block the screen.

"Ni-Ki, move!" you shouted through your giggles, giving him a light push as you tried to follow the beat of the song.

The game went on, but at one point, Ni-Ki moved awkwardly and stumbled. He accidentally pushed you, and in the blink of an eye, you both fell to the ground, rolling over each other. A small groan escaped his lips.

"Ouch… that hurt," he joked, laughing as you stayed on top of him, laughing so hard you couldn’t get up.

But then, the atmosphere shifted. You felt a gaze on you, sharp as a blade. You turned—and there was Jake.

Your boyfriend.

His brow furrowed, lips pressed tightly, and a mix of jealousy and discomfort written all over his face.

"What the hell is this?" he snapped, voice laced with tension.

You stood up immediately, your heart pounding like a drum.

"Jake, it’s not what it looks like…" you began, reaching out to touch him.

But he pulled his hand away—not violently, but coldly. His eyes, usually so warm, now refused to meet yours. He turned around, ready to leave.

"Jake, wait…"

Ni-Ki stood up and approached him, serious now, the jokes gone.

"It was my fault. I pushed her by accident, she fell on top of me. I’m really sorry," he said sincerely, knowing he had crossed a line—even if unintentionally.

Jake didn’t respond. He just nodded slightly, accepting the apology but not hiding his anger. Ni-Ki left quietly, leaving you two alone.

You walked up to Jake before he could leave again. You held his face in your hands and kissed him. Once, twice, three times. Short, sweet kisses—like little patches for every cracked piece of his heart.

He didn’t react right away. His brows were still furrowed, lips in that cute little pout. But his eyes were slowly softening.

"I’m still mad," he mumbled, not looking away from you.

You smiled faintly, saying nothing, and gently pushed him toward the couch. He sat without resistance, and you climbed onto his lap, straddling him and holding his face.

"Then let me pamper you until it goes away," you whispered against his lips, kissing him more slowly now, letting your hands roam across his neck, his hair, his back.

Jake sighed, arms gradually wrapping around you, giving in. His pout faded under your soft touches and slow kisses.

"You’re impossible…" he finally murmured against your neck, now with a defeated smile.

"And you’re too cute to be jealous over a game."

He chuckled softly and hugged you tighter.

"Only because you’re mine. And I’m yours. You know that, right?"

"I know. And I’m never letting you go."

✧ Sunghoon ----------

The ice shimmered beneath your skates as the boys’ laughter echoed around the rink. Everyone was skating, weaving around each other playfully, and you had gotten into a little game with Heeseung: every time you crossed paths, one of you gave the other a soft push. Nothing serious—just good fun.

"Your turn!" Heeseung shouted as he gave you a light shove while passing by.

You laughed and returned the favor on your next lap. Sunghoon noticed. He noticed everything—from how you smiled at Heeseung to those pushes disguised as a game. He didn’t say anything, just pressed his lips together and kept skating with the others, his brow slightly furrowed.

And then it happened.

Heeseung pushed you again, this time a bit harder, and you spun on your skates and gave him a stronger shove than intended. He wasn’t expecting it and stumbled, grabbing your arm on instinct so he wouldn’t fall alone. His body hit the ice—and you landed right on top of him.

One of his skates caught your leg, and a sharp pain shot through your calf.

"Ouch!" you cried, curling in on yourself without meaning to.

Heeseung sat up with effort, worried, his hands going to your injured leg.

"Did I hurt you? Let me see..." he muttered, frowning, while you were still on top of him.

But before he could touch you again, a voice cut through the moment like a knife.

"Don’t touch her."

Sunghoon arrived like a storm. His eyes sparked with restrained anger as he looked at Heeseung.

"Be more careful. Can’t you see you hurt her? And don’t touch her again."

His tone was serious, dry, leaving no room for argument. He took you gently, almost afraid of causing more pain, and helped you up. He didn’t look at you. Didn’t say anything else. Just wrapped his arm around you and led you off the ice, searching for an empty bench.

He knelt in front of you without a word, his brows furrowed, breath heavy. He opened his backpack and pulled out the small first-aid kit he always carried just in case. He lifted your leg onto his thigh with great care, though tension still lined every movement.

You watched him in silence, knowing he was angry—but also seeing how his fingers trembled slightly as he touched you. He couldn’t stand seeing you hurt, even if his pride was hurting too.

You raised a hand and gently ran your fingers through his dark hair.

"Hoon..."

He didn’t respond, just continued disinfecting the wound.

You leaned in until your face was close to his, and left a soft kiss on his forehead. Then one on his cheek. And one more—on his lips.

"I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have played around with Heeseung like that. I didn’t think it’d end like this… I love you, Sunghoon."

He paused. Slowly lowered his head without looking at you, resting it on your thighs as he knelt there. He stayed like that for a few moments, breathing against your skin, then lifted his face slightly and kissed your injured leg gently.

"Does it hurt a lot…?" he whispered, his voice finally coming out, a little broken.

You shook your head with a soft smile, still running your fingers through his hair as he remained there, holding you, not caring who saw.

"It only hurts when you’re mad at me."

Sunghoon looked up at you, and though a hint of frustration lingered in his eyes, his expression softened. He kissed your bandaged knee and rested his forehead on your leg again with a calm sigh.

"I can’t stay mad at you when you’re like this…"

✧ Sunoo ----------

The atmosphere in the living room was warm and relaxed. Dim lights, several blankets scattered over the couch, everyone chatting, laughing, lounging however they pleased. You were among them, leaning against the armrest of the sofa, with Sunoo beside you, his fingers absentmindedly caressing your hand under the blanket.

But the peace was interrupted when the first cushions started flying.

"Who did that?" you asked, looking around while everyone pretended to be innocent.

Jungwon shrugged, trying to stifle his laughter.

A few minutes passed… another cushion hit you. This time, straight on the head. You turned quickly, and once again, he acted like nothing happened.

"I saw you, Jungwon!" you laughed, grabbing one of the cushions to throw it back.

He stood up, running through the living room, and you chased him, laughing. You ran between the scattered blankets until you finally caught up with him. You gave him a light tap on the back as he dramatically pretended to fall… and just as you took one more step, you tripped over a blanket and fell… right on top of him.

You both laughed. Jungwon burst out laughing with you on top of him.

But amid the laughter, you didn’t notice Sunoo standing up from the sofa. His smile vanished without anyone noticing. He left the room in silence, without saying a word, disappearing from your view.

It wasn’t until the mood calmed down and you looked to your side that you noticed he was gone.

"Where’s Sunoo…?"

Worried, you stood up, left the room, and found him in the kitchen, his back to the door, hands braced on the counter, brows furrowed, lips tight. His entire posture radiated quiet anger.

"Sunoo…" you whispered, cautiously approaching.

You tried to hug him from behind, but he stepped away.

"No," he said sharply, without looking at you. "Go hug Jungwon, since you get along so well with him."

His voice was low, tense. It hurt you, because you knew it wasn’t just jealousy—it was insecurity masked as annoyance.

You didn’t say anything. You simply hugged him from behind, tightly, leaving no space for him to escape. You rested your cheek against his back.

"I love you, Sunoo… Only you. I’m sorry if I made you feel bad. It was nothing, we were just playing. But you’re the most important thing to me."

You felt him take a deep breath. His shoulders relaxed just a little… then he slowly turned around. His eyes were slightly glassy, his jaw tight, and his mouth… his mouth trembled with words he didn’t want to say.

He looked at you. His silence burned.

And without saying anything, he gently pinned you against the counter, placing his hands on either side of your body. His face came close, until his breath brushed your lips.

"Don’t do it again," he whispered before kissing you with soft rage, desperate to reclaim what he felt he’d lost, even if it had only been minutes.

He kissed your lips again and again, then moved down to your neck, leaving a trail of heat that made your skin shiver. He moved up to your cheeks, kissing them more tenderly this time, before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close.

"You’re mine. Don’t make me feel like I could lose you."

"Never. I’m yours, Sunoo. Only yours."

✧ Jungwon ----------

"I already told you, I’m not jealous," Jungwon repeated for what felt like the hundredth time, reclining with apparent calm on the sofa, while the rest of the group raised an eyebrow and exchanged knowing smiles.

Jay, who was sitting on your other side, wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he wanted to tease. You weren’t helping either, laughing with him as you played with tickles and silly comments that made Jungwon pretend to ignore the situation… until he couldn’t anymore.

A clumsy push, a laugh too loud… and suddenly you were on top of Jay, laughing, unaware of the fire you’d just lit.

"You okay?" Jay asked, amused, his hand on your arm.

Then silence. The kind that hurts in your chest. You turned—and saw him. Jungwon, standing, looking at you like he’d just seen something that hurt more than he could admit.

"You’re going to get off him. Now." His voice was cold. So controlled, it was scary.

"Wonie, wait, it’s not what—"

He didn’t let you finish. He grabbed your arm firmly—not violently, but with enough intensity to make you follow him. Without another word, he walked you to his room. He closed the door, leaned his back against it, and looked at you with eyes burning.

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Don’t be ridiculous…" you murmured, though your heart was racing.

"No, I want to hear it. Did you like him holding you? Touching you?"

You stepped closer to him.

"We were just playing. You were right there. You know it was nothing."

But he was already close to you, holding your waist. He gently pushed you against the wall, pressing his body to yours.

"I don’t care if it was a game. I don’t want it to happen again. Not with him. Not with anyone."

Slowly, his hands moved up your sides, and he unbuttoned the top buttons of your shirt with a calm but firm motion, his eyes never leaving yours. He leaned down, leaving a deep kiss on your neck… then another, warmer, lower.

"You’re mine. Mine," he whispered against your skin. "And you’re not covering this. I want everyone to see. To know who you belong to."

"I am… I always have been," you whispered, almost breathless.

"Then remember that. Because if I see that again… I can’t promise what I’ll do."

He hugged you tightly, burying his face in the crook of your neck, breathing deeply, trying to calm the storm inside him. You caressed him gently, resting your head on his chest.

"I’m sorry, Jungwon. I don’t want to hurt you. I love you."

"And I love you," he replied against your skin. "Too much."

✧ Ni-ki ----------

The living room was full of laughter and chatter, but for you, everything revolved around Sunghoon. He, who was usually cold and reserved, was different today: playful, close, smiling in a way that made your heart beat faster. Between jokes and soft pushes, you felt more alive than ever, savoring every brush of his hands, every glance shared.

But then, from a corner, Ni-ki was watching you with intense eyes and an expression you’d never seen on him before—pure, burning jealousy. The playful interaction between you and Sunghoon was hitting a nerve he didn’t want to acknowledge.

In the middle of your friendly wrestling, you lost your balance and fell on top of Sunghoon, who caught you without hesitation. Laughter escaped your lips as he held you, looking at you with a mix of tenderness and something deeper that surprised everyone.

Ni-ki couldn’t take it anymore. He walked over, voice laced with anger.

"What’s going on here? Do you really like my girlfriend that much?"

He shoved Sunghoon hard and turned to leave, but you followed him immediately.

"Ni-ki, wait… it’s not what you think."

He didn’t even look at you, jaw clenched, brows furrowed, already halfway to the door.

But you weren’t going to let distance grow between you. With determination, you grabbed his shirt as he crossed the threshold, pulling him back to you.

Your lips crashed into his in a fiery kiss, full of love and anger and desperation.

Ni-ki froze for a second, surprised, but melted into the kiss. His arms wrapped around you tightly, lifting you in an embrace that set your skin ablaze.

You felt every heartbeat against your chest, every sigh on his lips.

His hands slid down your back, pressing you against him as if to make sure you wouldn’t slip away.

His eyes opened slightly as he pulled away for a moment, resting his forehead on your skin.

"You’re mine, and no one else is going to touch you." he whispered, voice rough with love and jealousy.

You took his hand and laced your fingers with his, guiding him firmly toward the hallway.

In the dim light, where no one could see, he kissed you again—slow, deep, like it was the first and last time.

The world faded around you, leaving only the heat of his lips and the electricity sparking through your body.

When you finally pulled away, his eyes met yours, full of promises and fierce desire.

Without a word, you took his hand and walked with him into the bedroom, leaving behind the noise and jealousy to melt into that private, intimate silence.

✦N/a: If I were Ni-Ki, I wouldn’t have forgiven her 😔😔 (I think I got a little too affectionate with Y/N and Sunghoon LOL) I hope you liked it, love you so much 🩷

✦Taglist: @lezleeferguson-120 @nuki-riki @ijustwannareadstuff20 @vvenusoncasual @miellette @enhacolor @xxkatsusjinsux @somieverse @ourshin @han-to-my-minho @douqhnxtss @nuggets4lifers @mitmit01 @highway-143

[chuxmy]

You are mine..

Pairings: Geum Seongje x Fem!Reader

Summary: You’re visiting your boyfriend with take out food.

Warnings: contains themes of possessive behavior, verbal harassment and aggressive confrontation

The hum of computers filled the air like static electricity, punctuated by sharp keyboard taps and the muffled voices of online matches. Rows of boys hunched over screens, locked into the glowing haze of the digital world. At the very back, in the only booth dimly lit by a flickering LED, sat Geum Seongje.

His headset was pushed halfway off, resting just above one ear. His fingers danced over the keys, fluid and precise, eyes never straying from the screen. A cold energy surrounded him—focused, quiet, untouchable. It was the kind of stillness that made people instinctively avoid him. That, and the reputation that trailed him like a shadow.

But then the door creaked open, letting in a gust of warm night air… and you.

You stepped inside with a paper bag cradled in your arms, the scent of fried chicken and garlic wafting after you. Your eyes scanned the booths before landing on him. His head snapped up the moment your shoes crossed into his aisle, as if he’d sensed you before he saw you.

Seongje straightened slightly in his chair, removing the headset entirely. His dark eyes locked onto yours—sharp, unreadable, but warmer than anything else in that place.

“You came,” he said, his voice low and rough, like gravel beneath velvet.

“I brought you dinner,” you replied, smiling as you held the bag toward him.

He didn’t say thanks. He never really did. But he reached out and took it, letting your fingers brush—on purpose.

You were mid-laugh, about to ask how many matches he’d won, when a voice from two rows over cut through the moment.

“Damn… now that’s a meal I’d rather take home.”

You froze.

The laughter that followed was louder, smug, careless. One of the boys, tall, leaning back in his chair, feet propped on his desk—was staring straight at you. His smirk widened when your eyes met his.

Seongje didn’t move right away. He stared at his monitor for a beat longer, expression unreadable.

Then, with an almost eerie calm, he stood.

The silence that followed was heavier than the sound of a thousand keystrokes. He didn’t rush. He walked slowly toward the boy, hands in his pockets, head tilted slightly.

You called out his name once, softly. He ignored it.

“Wanna say that again?” he asked, tone deceptively casual. There was no trace of a threat in his voice—just a low murmur, dangerously quiet.

The guy snorted. “It’s a compliment, bro. Chill out.”

That was a mistake.

Seongje leaned down, close enough to speak directly in the boy’s ear. “You open your mouth about her again,” he said, “and you’ll be picking your teeth off this floor.”

The guy blanched. “Alright, alright—damn—just joking—”

“Say it again,” Seongje pressed. “See what happens.”

The air felt colder than the café’s busted A/C unit.

He turned without waiting for a response, grabbed your wrist, not hard, but firm and pulled you gently through the aisles. You didn’t resist. You just followed, heart hammering in your chest.

Outside, the night wrapped around you like a heavy blanket. Streetlamps buzzed overhead, flickering against the shadows. Seongje didn’t let go of your hand until you were halfway down the alley behind the café, where the only sounds were distant traffic and the faint clatter of dishes from a nearby restaurant.

He finally stopped, exhaling sharply.

“You okay?” you asked, still catching your breath.

He didn’t answer at first. His eyes were on the ground. His jaw clenched tight.

“You shouldn’t come here alone,” he muttered. “Not dressed like that. Not around guys like them.”

“I came for you.”

“That’s not the point.”

You stepped closer. “Then what is?”

He looked up, and there was something raw in his expression—something he usually kept buried beneath that cold, effortless front. “You don’t get it,” he said. “When I heard him say that, when I saw the way he looked at you…”

You reached for his hand again. “I don’t care about him. I only care about—”

He kissed you before you could finish.

It wasn’t a question or a whisper. It was a firecracker going off between your ribs. His lips were warm, his grip on your waist tighter than you expected, almost like he was afraid you might disappear if he didn’t hold on. The kiss was hungry, a mix of frustration and something more—something vulnerable.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. His breath fanned your skin.

“You’re mine,” he said quietly. “I don’t share. I don’t want anyone looking at you like that. Ever.”

You nodded, not trusting your voice.

And he kissed you again.

Slower this time.

[bywons]

WHAT'S MINE 𖥔 YJW

─────𝗔𝗟𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗩𝗘𝗟𝗬, 𝗃𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗒 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗃𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗐𝗈𝗇

【 𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐑 】 ｡ 𝗒𝖺𝗇𝗀 𝗃𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗐𝗈𝗇 & 𝖿!𝗋 760w 𖥔 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 ━━━━ 𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗃𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗒 ❛ 愛 ❜

스루 ܃ a quick jungwon drabble cause we love him sm ^_^ !!!

reb𝑙ogs ꪆৎ 𝑓eedbacks 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾

jungwon has been quiet ever since you both left the party.

all the way from the party to your home, he hasn't uttered a single word, just stealing quiet glances at you. his hand resting lightly against the small of your back as he walked beside you. his silence wasn’t cold, but thoughtful—heavy with something unspoken. his fingers occasionally flexed, as if restraining the urge to hold you tighter.

when you reach your apartment, he follows you inside, shutting the door behind him with a slow, deliberate motion. His eyes lingers on you, dark and unreadable, but the tension in his posture is unmistakable.

a soft sigh leaves your mouth, as you lean against the wall, “are you still thinking about that guy, ‘won?”

jungwon’s lips press into a thin line before he exhales through his nose, stepping closer, “thinking about him? not at all,” he murmurs, his voice smoother now with a teasing undertone, he smirks, “i always only think about you, princess.”

you cross your arms, as if it will cover up for your beating heart. “that guy was just being friendly, jungwon.”

jungwon’s muscles visibly flex under his black shirt as he grits his jaw. his brows lift slightly, amusement flickering across his face, yet a distinct sharpness behind it. “really, what is that? i think he was clearly trying to cross boundaries,” he tilts his head, taking a step closer to you, “did you like it?”

you breathe hitches from the intensity of his gaze and the drunken loveliness of his eyes, “jungwon—”

he is swift enough to cut you short in your incoherent sentence, by placing his hands on either side of your head against the walls. and that’s when you realise your back has met the cold wall.

he isn’t angry or jealous, not exactly. but there is a quiet intensity in the way he looks at you, like he needs to remind you—remind himself—that this thing between you is real, raw, undeniable. jungwon knew the consequences of having a pretty girlfriend, of course boys were going to hit on her and flirt with her, trying to steal you away. but he didn’t mind any of it, his confidence in your loyalty stayed strong.

although tonight was different. the way that guy invaded your proximity ticked a radar off in yang jungwon— until he couldn’t take it anymore.

you’re only his to touch.

“hmm?” he hums, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing past your cheeks, “jungwon what?”

“you don’t have to be jealous, you know,” you sigh, your breath hitching once again.

jungwon finally leans in, until his cologne hits stronger in the air, mingled with his hot breath falling over your neck.

his fingers brush against your jaw, tilting your chin up with a touch so gentle it sends a shiver down your spine. “i know you,” he murmurs, voice low, intimate. “you weren’t interested in him. but still, seeing someone else act like they could have you?” his thumb traces the corner of your lip, lingering, before his fingers slid lower, ghosting over your pulse. “i didn’t like that.”

your lips part slightly, and that’s all it takes.

jungwon immediately leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was unhurried and intense. it isn’t rough or rushed—just deep, deliberate. his hands find your waist, fingers spread over the fabric of your shirt before slipping beneath, palms warm against your skin. he kisses you like he has all the time in the world, savoring, making sure you feel every bit of his presence, his need.

you melt into him, fingers sliding into his hair, and the quiet sigh you let out had him pressing closer, his body molding against yours. he deepens the kiss, his lips brushing against yours in a way that sends warmth pooling in your stomach. when he pulls back slightly, his lips barely an inch from yours, he lets out a soft chuckle, his breath warm against your skin.

“i don’t have to be jealous,” he whispers, eyes never leaving yours, “i already know you’re mine.”

your chest rose and fell with the weight of his words, his touch. “you sound so sure.”

his smile is slow, confident. “i don’t have to sound sure.” his lips ghost over yours again, teasing, coaxing. “i just know.”

he giggles into another kiss as your hand flies to cup his cheeks, well you back, you squeeze them together, cooing, “jealousy does look cute on you, love.”

and now it was time for him to be flustered.

© BYWONS, 2025 / do not copy or repost without permission

taglist────open nets @/k-labels @k-films @kflixnet CLICK ME

[sagesturns]

˖°. adore - m.s ˖°.

contents: tooth-rotting fluff!

the wind had started picking up again, threading cold fingers through your sleeves. you hadn’t zipped your jacket—because you never did—and matt, walking just a step ahead, noticed instantly.

he turned, already reaching. “seriously?” he mumbled, tugging the zipper up carefully.

“i’m not a baby.”

he grins — that smug, gentle kind of grin he always saves just for you. “i know,” he says, eyes crinkling, “but you’re my baby.”

that part, he said without teasing. like it was just true.

you roll your eyes, pretending not to melt, but it’s useless. he presses a kiss to your forehead before tugging your hood up slightly, fixing it like it matters.

a few minutes earlier, you’d stopped by the corner store. he’d spotted your favourite chocolate on the shelf by the register and grabbed it without a word, tossing it on the counter with his sprite. now you were unwrapping it together as you walked home, sharing pieces one by one, fingers brushing with every pass.

a crumb clung to your cheek, and you were halfway through lifting your hand to wipe it when matt leaned in and kissed it off, casual like it was nothing.

“got it,” he murmurs, lips brushing the crumb off with the gentlest kiss.

you blink. “seriously?” you ask this time more amused and even more flustered.

“would you rather i used a napkin?” he grins.

you shove him lightly with your shoulder. “you’re ridiculous.”

“and you love me for it.”

you don’t deny it.

you shoved him lightly, cheeks warm. “you’re unbelievable.”

“and you’re still walking next to me,” he said, bumping his shoulder into yours.

you didn’t bother arguing.

by the time you turned onto your street, the light had gone golden behind the trees. everything was quieter. softer. you slowed your steps without realizing it, fingers curled into your sleeves.

you turned toward him, ready to speak—but paused.

matt was already looking at you.

and not with a grin or some smug comeback. he looked at you with the softest smile you’d ever seen—one that smoothed out every wrinkle on his face, one that made his eyes look warmer than the light behind you. his gaze rested on you like he couldn’t believe you were really there.

you scrunched your nose without thinking. “what?”

he didn’t answer.

instead, he stepped closer, reached out, and cradled your cheek in one hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. his thumb brushed just beneath your eye before he leaned in and kissed the tip of your nose.

your fucking nose.

your breath hitched.

you scrunched it again instinctively. “matt…”

“you always do that when you’re cold,” he whispered, barely pulling away. “or when you don’t know what to say.”

you swallowed. your heart was a mess in your chest.

“you’re such a sap,” you mumbled.

he smiled again. “yeah. But i’m your sap.”

he nudges your nose with his again, barely a kiss this time, more like a touch. “see?” he says, smiling. “you’re not a baby.”

you breathe out, cheeks burning.

“you’re just mine.”

©sagesturns☆

[harbours-lighthouse]

here's pt. ii !

Jason caught it in the corner of his eye. Sitting in the parking lot beneath your apartment, was a gleaming Yamaha MT motorcycle. Spotless. Clean.

It's a naked model, he thinks, as he can see the engine clearly. It's black, with accented colours streaked along the sides.

Jason glances around the parking lot, eyes sweeping along the shadows and cement pillars. No one else is here. It's only him.

With muted curiosity, he ambles towards the bike with his hands shoved in his pockets. He knows you won't fuss too much if he's a minute behind his schedule (which was simply messaging you about three minutes ago, saying he's arrived at the complex).

Circling the bike, he takes it in. It's a nice model. Sleek. Expensive. He wonders who owns it, because it isn't the smartest idea to keep such a bike out in the open.

Especially in Gotham.

But as he looks down at the tires—that look brand new—he notices three locks wrapped around one of the suspensions. Huffing in amusement, he sees they're connected to the metal guard rail behind him that's been pushed up against the wall.

"Not bad," he mumbles beneath his breath. Steam puffs into the air.

It's cold, and the numbness of his nose makes it to the forefront of his mind again.

Sparing the bike one last lingering, appreciative glance, he crosses the parking lot with long strides, and slips into the elevator when the doors slide open.

When they open again, he's greeted with a long, carpeted hallway. The lights are dim. They flicker. He searches for the woodgrain door with the number 208 painted on the front.

Finding it and feeling his heart flutter in his chest at the thought of you, he knocks on the door. He waits, leaning on his left leg.

There's a muffled commotion inside, a faint 'ow' that makes him frown.

Then your voice calls out, "One sec, I'm coming—damn it!"

Jason's head dips with a hidden smile; he imagines you struggling with something. Maybe the cat got underneath your feet again. Or maybe you were hurrying to put something on, and couldn't get your head through the t-shirt—

The door swings open, and you stand inside the frame with an almost frazzled look about you.

Jason perks a brow. "Hi."

"Hey," you say breathlessly, smiling.

"You, uh...you okay?"

"....I got tangled in my blanket and tripped."

Well, at least you're honest. Jason shakes his head with a soft grin. He steps into your apartment and curls his arm around your shoulders, guiding you with him.

"How you’re not dead with the things you manage to do is beyond me," he murmurs close to your ear.

You groan quietly, "I'm not that bad."

"Babe—"

"I've seen how Tim is. Now he's the definition of clumsy."

"Fair point."

You slip out of Jason's hold, not without kissing his cheek, and move to the kitchen.

Jason, feeling at ease, drops himself on the couch. The TV is still on, frozen on a scene in a movie. It's your favourite movie. Or 'comfort movie', as you've said before.

He hears the clink of glasses in the kitchen. The shuffle of your footsteps.

"How was patrol last night by the way?" you call out to him. "I know you weren't able to drop by 'cause you had to go back to the Manor this time."

Jason runs a rough hand down his face. "Yeah, it was fine. Tiresome, but fine."

He doesn't want to really talk about it. Not here in your warm apartment. Not with you and the normality you give him.

Outside, the traffic hums. He hears the roar of an engine—he remembers the bike.

"Hey, babe?"

"Hm?"

"Who owns that Yamaha bike in the parking lot?"

You come around the corner, holding two mugs of steaming coffee. Your eyes lock with his.

"Oh. It's mine."

"What?"

© harbours-lighthouse 2025 / i do not give permission for my work to be reposted, translated, or fed into ai. all works belong to me unless stated otherwise.

[darkmatilda]

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: when you and your favorite profiler get accidentally locked in a cold storage room, it quickly becomes clear that there’s only one way to keep each other warm.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x diva!chemist reader, reader's pov, mild threat to life, almost complete nudity (underwear only), reader may have one foot in the grave but her shameless commentary never dies (in fact, it gets worse), even when cuddling his half-naked coworker is the only way to survive spencer is an awkward, blushing mess

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 3.8k

𝐚/𝐧: request

"Tell me honestly, Reid, don’t you really have anything better to do at night than dig into some cold cases?" you asked, cutting through your darkened laboratory like an arrow. You knew it by heart, so no accident threatened you. He, on the other hand, didn’t, so you hoped he’d fall on that stupid face of his in revenge for calling you at this hour.

But maybe you had no right to complain. After all, you were the one who took the late-night call from that stupid face…

“Theoretically, this case doesn’t yet qualify as a cold case,” Reid hurried with an explanation, walking about a meter behind you. You felt his gaze desperately clinging to your back as he tried not to bump into anything. When you finally stopped by a fairly large square-shaped cooler with an entrance, he let out a barely audible sigh of relief. “We usually call cases cold when there have been no breakthroughs or new information for about three years. This one, even though it’s over fourteen years old, was re-examined six months ago. So, it’s a very current case. And it might be connected to the one we’re working on now.”

You rolled your eyes, listening to that lecture.

“Thank you from the bottom of my heart for educating me about cold cases,” you muttered.

“The pleasure’s all mine. One is never too old to learn new things,” he replied with a distinct, smug tone in his voice.

“You’ll soon find out what it’s like to be locked in a cooler,” you whispered.

“What did you say?”

“Absolutely nothing. Apparently, the darkness plays tricks on your imagination. So what exactly do you need from there?”

Your hand was on the cooler door, but before opening it, you turned your head over your shoulder toward him. You wanted at least to know what kind of crucial evidence he needed that had woken you from bed.

Spencer hesitated slightly before answering. “A finger.”

“A finger? A human finger?”

“Well, it’s pretty rare for a non-human mammal’s finger to serve as evidence in a murder case…”

“I swear to God, you’re practically begging to be locked in that cooler,” you shook your head slowly, drawing in a breath. A finger. “You dragged me here to help you find a finger. You know, I think I deserve something in return for this.”

Spencer held your slightly flirtatious gaze in silence for a moment, as if pondering something, before giving a dismissive shrug. “Maybe. We’ll think about it once we have the finger.”

You opened the cooler door, immediately wincing at the cold that hit you. Inside were metal cabinets and rows of compartments, each labeled with the case name, year, and contents.

“Let’s go back to just calling it evidence,” you decided, stepping inside. You suddenly stopped, remembering something. “Oh, and don’t close the—”

Before you could finish the sentence, Spencer closed the door.

You stood facing each other, neither of you moving, as the cold began to seep into your bodies. You swallowed slowly. Reid blinked, blankly.

“Why wasn’t I supposed to close the door?”

The goosebumps spreading across your skin weren’t just from the biting cold inside the cooler anymore. No, there was something else. A prickle of unease you quickly shook off.

“No, it’s just…” you shook your head, recalling how one of your lab techs had locked himself in here a few weeks ago. Luckily, the whole team had been around and freed him before he had a chance to feel real panic. Since then, every time you entered, you made sure to keep the door open.

Of course, that didn’t mean the same thing was about to happen now. In the middle of the night. With just the two of you. No one around in case…

“We once had a little incident. Nothing serious, but I’d rather keep the door open.”

Saying that, you walked over to the door, if only to ease your own mind. Spencer watched your movements—particularly the way your hand pushed against the door and… it didn’t budge.

You felt your heart stop for a split second, just as an ill-timed, dismissive snort escaped his lips.

“You’re kidding me,” he said with too much confidence, his posture relaxing as much as the cold would allow. You shot him a brief, withering glare and turned back to the door, pushing again—harder this time.

“You’ve threatened to lock me in here more than once, and now it’s just—”

“Oh, shut up already and help me!”

Spencer needed a good five seconds of staring at you in dumb silence before he realized you weren’t joking. Then he joined you in the struggle against the heavy door.

You could push, kick, and yell all you wanted, hoping someone might be nearby—but none of it changed your situation. You were still locked inside the cooler with no real prospect of getting out.

Spencer backed away from the door like he needed to escape it, running a hand through his hair and breathing heavily, like he was trying to steady himself.

 “Okay,” he started muttering under his breath, more to himself than to you. Even with your back turned to him, you could tell he was pacing in the confined space like he was trying to solve a riddle. Socrates, when what you really needed was the Hulk. “Okay, okay… first step is always, always don’t panic. We have to stay calm and think this through together. What are you doing?”

“I have a phone,” you replied, standing on your toes near the door to hold it up as high as possible, as close to the exit as you could manage. “I’m trying to get a signal and actually do something, instead of pretending you’re giving instructions to a crew of preschoolers on a sinking ship. Did you forget we both work for the FBI?”

For a brief moment, he stared at you speechless because of your sharp words, which often found their way out of you in the face of serious, dangerous situations. But maybe that kind of mental slap was exactly what he needed — or maybe there was simply too much panic in him to get angry.

He stopped pacing around.

“And what about the signal? Let me try.”

You stood on your toes again, silently thanking yourself for all those years spent walking in heels and the skill that came with it. Then you handed the phone over to Spencer, so he could at least put those ridiculously long limbs of his to some use.

You watched him with such hope and focus that you stopped noticing how badly your body was shaking. And it was shaking hard. Every breath in that place tasted like inhaling the blade of a knife, every passing second nearly burned your skin with cold.

Eventually, Reid lowered the phone and shook his head.

Was this the time for another round of yanking at the doors and screaming?

You froze in place in helplessness, your arms wrapped around yourself like a blanket. You regretted nothing more than having worn only a thin shirt that night. Oh, why couldn’t it have been the middle of a brutal winter and you both walked in wearing coats, wrapped in scarves?

Spencer waved his hand in front of your face, pulling you out of your momentary daze.

 “You can’t just stand still,” he warned. His eyes were wide with a panic that alternated between quiet and loud, never leaving either of you, but also filled with urgency, pressure. He only relaxed slightly when you followed his lead, marching in place and trying to get your hands moving too. They were probably the most frozen part of your body. “Any kind of movement is recommended right now. It increases blood circulation and temporarily raises body temperature.”

You watched him shake his limbs — in any other circumstance it would’ve looked completely absurd. You let out a heavy sigh.

“It’s minus twenty in here. Even your danse macabre won’t help us,” you pointed out.

 “Why not? I’m already starting to feel a bit livelier. Lively enough to wait until someone comes and lets us out.”

 “Good for you. The only thing I feel is no feeling in my feet.”

 “That’s because you’re not trying hard enough.”

“And what do you think I should do? Start doing jumping jacks?”

Spencer parted his lips and tilted his head to the side. A second later, he tried to jump while spreading his arms and legs, managing it with absolutely no coordination. He probably hadn’t done that exercise in years.

Despite your situation, you snorted at the sight.

“Sweetheart, you're going to hurt yourself more with that than the hypothermia ever could.”

He looked at you with genuine, deep sorrow.

 “We’re on the same team. You could at least try to support me mentally.”

Your disbelieving sigh filled the frosty air.

 “Okay,” you muttered. “I’ll try, since it matters to you. But I’m not turning into a sexy cheerleader—I’ll do it my way.” You nodded toward the camera in the corner of the room. “The people who end up watching the footage of our tragic death are going to pee themselves laughing at what you’re doing. You’ll totally make their day.”

Your comment, even though sarcastic and meant to resemble a joke, made you both look at each other in silence. You had used the phrase our death, and while five minutes ago it might’ve sounded distant, it suddenly felt alarmingly real, possible. There was nothing you could do to save yourselves from this situation. The only thing left was to wait until someone showed up to rescue you. So you had to last in there as long as possible, conserve as much of the warmth escaping your bodies as you could.

“I know what we have to do,” you sighed finally, tightening your arms around your chest. Spencer looked at you questioningly. You nodded in his direction. “Take your clothes off.”

He looked as if he hadn’t heard you.

“W–what?”

“I said take your clothes off,” you repeated patiently, showing that you weren’t joking and that your attitude was neutral. “I’m not saying this as a pervert, but as someone who knows a thing or two about science. These frozen clothes are pulling the heat out of us and don’t offer any protection anymore. What will give us protection and help retain heat is skin-to-skin contact. We’ll create an insulated thermal bubble. In simpler words—god, I never thought I’d say this to you—take your shirt off and come here.”

You knew Reid knew what you were talking about. This was Spencer Reid, after all—of course he understood basic thermodynamics. And yet, he just stared at you with those wide brown eyes, like Bambi watching his mother get shot right in front of him.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. You could see him trying to form some kind of protest, to say something—anything—but he couldn’t. Because what you were saying was true. It was the only option you had left.

Eventually, he blinked nervously and croaked,

“Why do I have to go first?”

The frustration that filled you was so strong, it made your head drop loosely forward.

“For god’s sake, Reid. You’re not in bed with a woman you like—you’re in a freezer.” You gave him a look and continued before he could pretend otherwise. “And besides, you’re going to have to take mine off too, and I figured you’d handle that better if you were still dressed.” He looked completely lost, as if your words had short-circuited every thought in his head. You pointed demonstratively at your shirt. “My buttons are tiny, and I can’t move my fingers anymore. I won’t be able to undo them—but you still can. Thank your jumping jacks.”

Spencer looked around the cold chamber, as if he expected an emergency blanket to suddenly appear in the corner, or an exit hatch, or at least some metaphorical hole in reality he could slip through. Or maybe he just needed a moment away from your impatient stare. Eventually, he sighed in defeat and stepped toward you. You never buttoned your shirts all the way to the top, so at least the task was slightly easier. He reached for the first button, the one just beneath your collarbone. His fingers were red from the cold, shaking so badly he could barely grasp the tiny thing.

But when he finally did, he didn’t unfasten it right away — instead, his gaze drifted sideways. You frowned, assuming embarrassment had finally won over him, but that wasn’t the case. He looked toward the camera.

"I'm just stating for the record that I’m only doing this so we don’t freeze to death."

You snorted right in his face.

"Those cameras don’t even record sound. As far as they’re concerned, you’re just pawing at my cleavage with zero context."

He tore his gaze away from the bit of skin now visible beneath the undone button.

"I don’t!" he blurted defensively.

"So better do. You’re taking so long, I’m starting to suspect you’ve never undressed a woman before."

He shot you a glare sharp enough to cut glass — one you were more than ready to return — but he quickly dropped his eyes again.

"Very funny," he muttered coldly.

"No, not funny. Actually, very caring. I’m provoking you on purpose — get your blood pumping. If it weren’t twenty below zero here, you’d be bright red already."

"Oh, how very noble of you. And who's going to do the same for you?" he shot back.

You shrugged, genuinely unsure.

 "Well, someone definitely should. I even have a candidate in mind, but he’s not doing a great job so far. Honestly, he’s just not trying hard enough."

You saw Spencer roll his eyes toward the ceiling with disbelief as he listened to your rambling. But at least when you were talking, your teeth weren’t chattering — so you had no intention of stopping.

He had just two buttons left and seemed determined to focus on them instead of feeding into your antics, which, of course, you didn’t appreciate.

You nudged his boot with yours, teasing.

"Someone’s trying to ignore me. But that’s okay. You’re very busy right now. Probably mourning the fact that I actually wore a bra today."

His gaze snapped to your face as if he'd just been struck by lightning — which, honestly, wouldn't have been the worst thing, considering it might’ve warmed him up a little. His eyes immediately met your smirking, half-mocking, half-genuinely amused expression.

He let go of the now fully unbuttoned fabric of your shirt and took a deep, dramatic breath before gesturing toward his work with a hand as if he were an artist unveiling a masterpiece.

“There you go,” he declared in a high-pitched voice that he very consciously tried to lower.

That only made your amusement worse. For a moment, you almost forgot you were trapped in a giant freezer. Almost.

You sighed in defeat, the weight of the situation settling back onto your shoulders. The cold suddenly felt sharper again.

“Jokes are over. Your turn,” you announced flatly, and without warning, reached for the buttons on his shirt, unfastening them quickly and efficiently.

He stared at you, his shirt now completely open, brows raised so high they were nearly at his hairline, as if he hadn’t even noticed it had happened.

“You said your fingers were too frozen to do that.”

“I lied.”

“Y-you’re... you’re... I don’t even know what you are anymore!”

You were just about to fire back when your expression suddenly tensed with concern.

“Are you running out of vocabulary?” you asked, narrowing your eyes. He blinked at you in confusion. “That’s concerning in your case. The cold must be slowing your cognitive functions.”

“Well, it’s clearly accelerating your…licentious defiance of every known social protocol.”

“I take back what I said about your vocabulary,” you muttered.

He pulled his shirt off his back — you were so cold you didn’t even notice the difference. You turned it inside out, the side that had been touching your body and was still somewhat warmer; Reid did the same with his.

You laid one of them on the floor to lie on, and the other you were going to use to wrap yourselves in. You couldn’t do it sitting up in a way that would cover both of you — maybe with your lab coat it would’ve worked, but you didn’t have it with you. So you were forced to lie down on your sides, facing each other.

For a moment, you just looked at him (he didn’t seem to be breathing, his eyes locked on you like on a watch in a hypnotist’s hands), wondering what position would maximize skin-to-skin contact.

Eventually, you pressed your chest to his, placing your hands behind his neck. Your chin settled on his shoulder — which in some way also protected your heads, right? After all, so much heat escaped through them. Just in case, you also covered them with his shirt. It carried the faint scent of his cologne, but your senses were too dulled by the cold to really smell it.

You stayed like that in silence for a moment.

“Do you…do you feel any warmer?” Spencer asked.

You didn’t even stop to think.

“Maybe I would if you weren’t afraid to touch me and actually hugged—”

You broke off, because he really did grab you tighter, pulling you closer to his bare chest and tightening his hold around your back. You sighed quietly, because for a moment, you did feel warmer.

The thing is, only for a moment. You sighed again, this time with pure gloom.

“Maybe a little,” you said, unconvinced. “Okay, practically not at all. But maybe it doesn’t have to be felt to be working. Besides, it’d be kinda dumb to stop now, right? Not after we did a striptease for each other.”

A sound escaped his mouth. You had trouble identifying it.

“Are you laughing?” you asked, genuinely surprised.

You felt him nod in confirmation.

“I just realized you’re both the worst and the best person to be stuck in a freezer with,” he admitted, leaving you even more confused.

“The worst, I get,” you said. “But the best?”

Reid hesitated to respond, and you started to wonder if he’d died (you hoped he hadn’t) (personal reasons). Then you dropped your ironically nonchalant mask for a moment to nudge him slightly, just to check if his consciousness had changed.

“I mean,” he spoke up suddenly, easing your concern, “you’re ruining my dreams of dying in a tragic, epic way in a very comedic fashion.”

At first, you wanted to snort, but you kept up appearances.

“I am not,” you disagreed. “It’s still a very epic way to go. Dying in the arms of a beautiful maiden.”

“Trapped in a freezer?”

“No one’s going to remember the freezer part if you’ve got an attractive woman by your side. Much more cinematic. Easier to turn into a statue later.”

“I don’t want them turning us into a statue in this position.”

“Agreed. We'd make a much prettier stained glass window.”

“You think so?”

“Mhm. But I hope we’re completely naked in that stained glass. And that my hair looks better. But that’s a side issue. I mean, can you imagine them hanging us in some breathtaking old cathedral, and I’m wearing a Victoria’s Secret bra? No disrespect to the brand, but it just doesn’t fit the vibe.”

“Can’t believe I’m saying this, but you’re absolutely right. Besides, Victoria’s Secret would probably want a cut for using their brand name. They’d profit off our tragedy.”

Your voices had grown monotonous, somewhere between murmuring and humming, most of your words aimed at the skin of his shoulder. You liked the absurdity of the topic you’d chosen. You liked his calmness and the way he was holding you, the way he’d let his guard down. It crossed your mind that you wished you were somewhere else now—somewhere warmer, somewhere your lives weren’t at risk. But everything else could stay exactly the same.

And suddenly, right along with that thought, a sound rang out. A sound that reached your ears with a delay and caused a moment of disorientation. For so long, it had been just your two voices—then all at once, a third element pierced the silence that had briefly fallen between you. You remembered just entering the cooler, how you told Spencer not to close the door and he’d closed it anyway.

The door.

You untangled yourselves from each other with dizzying speed, but there was no shame in the position you’d been found in (at least not on your part—you couldn’t speak for him) only the urgent need to confirm that what you’d just heard was real. Someone had opened the cooler door.

You sat up quickly. Spencer’s shirt slid off your bodies.

 The door was, in fact, open—and standing in it was a member of your team, the blond-haired Winchester, whose eyes were always rimmed with dark circles and who constantly looked like he’d just finished a three hour crying session—but that was just his natural expression  even when he was happy.

He looked at you both, eyes widening—then quickly flicked to the ceiling, awkwardly.

“Are you, um, guys… okay?”

Moments later, you were already out of the cooler, and you honestly felt like kissing the walls and floors. But before doing that, you shot Winchester a grateful look. He was the one who’d gotten himself locked in the same cooler a few weeks ago.

“How did you even know we were in there?” you asked.

Meanwhile, Spencer was standing like a shadow behind your teammate, holding his freezing shirt in his hands—clearly trying to avoid the young man’s gaze and attention, silently bonding with him in the mutual awkwardness of the situation. Unfortunately, the kid misread Spencer’s behavior and shrank into himself, as if standing face-to-face with his half-naked boss wasn’t already a nightmare in itself.

“After I got locked in there last time, I kept thinking about what would happen if it were someone else—and there was no one around to get them out,” he began, eyes fixed on his shoes. “So… I installed a thermometer inside that sends a notification when the temperature suddenly rises. It always goes up when someone enters and stays up until they leave. I saw it spike today, saw it was you guys, and decided to check it out.”

You looked at him and exhaled, not knowing how to even begin thanking him.

“You deserve a raise, Winchester,” you announced.

“But if anyone asks what for, please say it was for overtime,” Spencer mumbled.

You just waved a hand at him.

“Don’t listen to him. Say whatever you want. And come here,” you said, opening your arms and stepping forward, ready to crush him in a hug.

For a split second, pure terror flashed across Winchester’s face. With ninja-like reflexes, he ducked and slipped past you under your arm, leaving you hugging empty air.

“The raise is enough, seriously!”

a small post-reading author’s note:

winchester = literally whitaker from the amazing show the pitt a returning character in the diva!reader series! 

[simp-for-love]

Looks better on you

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Mattheo lends you his sweater on a cold day without much thinking. But when you keep wearing it, he starts to realize that maybe he doesn't want it back.

Warnings: none. Pure fluff

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day, my lovelies 💕 A bit cliché, but I wanted to post something short and sweet today.

The wind cut through the Hogwarts courtyard with an unforgiving chill, and you regretted your decision to leave your scarf in the dorm. Hugging your arms to yourself, you tried to focus on the conversation around you, but the cold made it really difficult.

Mattheo leaned casually against the stone railing, hands stuffed into the pockets of his sweater, looking completely unbothered by the weather. You weren’t sure how he managed that — maybe pure arrogance was enough to keep him warm.

He was talking to Theo and Enzo about some ridiculous bet they had going, but you weren't paying much attention, too busy trying to keep yourself from shivering, but too lazy to go to the dorm and dress something warmer. Apparently, though, Mattheo noticed.

Without a word, he pulled his sweater over his head and, before you could even protest, dropped it onto yours.

You blinked. "What—?"

"You're freezing. Just wear it," he muttered, shaking out his curls.

The wind was still relentless, and as much as your pride wanted you to decline, the warmth from the fabric was already sinking into your skin. The sweater was warm, soft, and — most notably — it smells like him. Hesitantly, you pulled it over your head, and immediately, you were enveloped in his scent — something woodsy with a hint of smoke, like firewhiskey and late-night trouble.

The sleeves were too long, swallowing your hands completely, and when you glanced up, Mattheo was watching you with a smirk tugging on his lips.

"Looks better on you anyway," he said before turning back to the conversation, as if he hadn't just casually sent your heart into overdrive with his sweet gesture and boyish smirk.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ * ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ *

It was supposed to be temporary. Just until you got back to your dorm. But somehow, you kept wearing it.

It started that evening when you curled up in the common room with a book, still wrapped in the warmth of Mattheo’s sweater. He didn't say anything about it, just raised an eyebrow as he passed by, a flicker of something unreadable in his expression.

Then it was the next morning at breakfast. You were too tired to notice, but Mattheo definitely did, his usual smirk faltering slightly when he spotted you across the Great Hall.

And then, in the library, when you absentmindedly pulled the sleeve over your fingers while reading a book with focused expression on your face.

By the third day, it had become a thing.

"You do realize that's mine, right?" Mattheo finally asked, sliding into the seat beside you in Potions.

You glanced down at yourself, feigning innocence. "Oh, is it? I must've forgotten."

He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "Right. You forgot."

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ * ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ *

It wasn't until a few nights later, when you were both sitting by the fire in the common room, that he finally said something real about it.

You were curled up on the couch, absentmindedly tracing patterns into the fabric of his sweater. The fire cast a golden glow over everything, making the room feel warmer than it probably was. Mattheo, lounging in the chair beside you, was watching you — not that you noticed at first.

But when you finally looked up, you caught him staring.

"What?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He didn't answer immediately. Just tilted his head slightly, a lazy smirk playing at his lips, but there was something softer in his eyes. Something hesitant.

"Nothing," he said at last, voice quieter than usual. "Just thinking I might never get that sweater back."

Your fingers froze against the fabric. The way he said it — it wasn't teasing, not really. There was something else there, something unspoken.

You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of the weight of his gaze. "Do you… want it back?"

Mattheo studied you for a long moment, then let out a slow exhale, shaking his head slightly with a small smile tugging on his lips.

"No," he admitted. "I think I like it better on you."

And just like that, the warmth in your chest rivaled the fire crackling beside you.

[spxllcxstxr]

Cuddling with Jayce and Viktor • Headcanon

(Gif not mine)

Request: could you please write some jayvik x reader cuddling headcanons? I looooved your dating headcanons🥰🤭 -- anon

Warnings: heart melting fluff, that's literally all it is

A.N: Anon, I was delighted to get this request because I want to cuddle with jayvik at all times. Also I'm glad you liked the headcanons!! I hope you like these too!

•

Cuddling with your partners will forever be one of your favorite things. While Viktor may not be at ease with a lot of touch, that aspect seems to be pushed aside whenever the three of you are in bed

Viktor easily melts into Jayce's side, his face is usually flush with the crook of Jayce's neck, which makes it easy access for a peppering of kisses when he wakes up in the morning (he always wakes up the earliest, kisses Jayce, then you, before making his morning tea which he brings back to bed to slowly sip as he waits for his loves to rise)

Additionally, Viktor lays his hand in the middle of Jayce's chest, to feel his heartbeat or to feel up his muscles, no one knows and he’ll never tell. However, your own hand meets his at Jayce's core. The night usually starts with your hand on top of his, but some time during your slumber your hands swap, and Viktor's warm palm is placed atop the back of your hand, slender fingers grasping onto you

No matter how many times you wake up to this, the tenderness of the moment will forever make your face heat up and your heart beat rapidly

Viktor runs cold and Jayce is as warm as a furnace, so that really explains why Vik is always huddled up close to him

On the other side of Jayce lies you, also huddled up to his side. Jayce's arm is wrapped around you, fingers tracing random shapes or equations on the small of your back. It’s oddly comforting—his fingers dancing across your skin. It sometimes feels like he may be writing paragraphs of something familiar, something you can almost make out, but you’re never able to

(Jayce will never admit this to anyone, but there are times he traces letter on your skin as you fall asleep. Letters that make up admissions of love, insecurities, hopes, and dreams. His fingertips will tell how much he cherishes your love and adores Viktor’s trust in him. Sometimes they spell out what he hopes is your future together—the three of you, bound by love and loyalty for eternity. It helps him fall asleep)

Jayce honestly doesn't mind at all that he is squished in between his partners because he gets to touch the both of you. He gets to know that the people he loves are alive--are with him. Jayce enjoys knowing that Viktor has returned from the lab unscathed and that whatever the poison is that lurks below them and loomed over Viktor's childhood hasn't killed him. Jayce feels as if when the two of you are tucked securely at his side, the three of you are untouchable. He loves feeling your soft skin underneath his calloused fingertips, the warmth of your breath tickling the delicate skin under his ear

His heart beats below the tangled hands of his partners and that's all he wants

While that is how the three of you are usually organized in bed, with Jayce in the middle, that doesn't mean you never directly cuddle with Viktor. There are times where Jayce is out, with the council or another sort of meeting, and you and Viktor have the apartment to yourselves. Usually the two of you will be reading (sometimes Viktor will read to you, sometimes you will read to him if he's too exhausted). Who's cuddling into who will depend on who's reading aloud to the other. But more often than not, the two of you will cuddle in a way where both sets of eyes can see the text

Viktor smells of the air after a heavy rain on days he doesn’t come home smelling of grease and metal. But even then, his scent is his own and addictive nonetheless

Your voices will be soft in the other's ear, which usually causes you to drift off to sleep. Jayce will come back to find the two of you heaped together, heads close together

You and Jayce are the ones that crave cuddles every hour of the day. Viktor pretends he doesn't, usually rolling his eyes when you ask for him to get his ass in bed. But then Jayce whips out those wide golden eyes and Viktor is easily pulled to bed

There is also some casual cuddling outside of the bedroom. Pulling the two of them from their work is difficult, but once you convince Jayce, it's all over

Jayce is also the type to sit on his desk in the lab with either you or Viktor between his legs, arms wrapped around your torso.

Viktor likes to complain, citing that it's a distraction, but once Jayce envelopes either of you in his arms, there's no escape

Knowing that every night ends with the three of you in bed holding onto each other is what fuels the three of you. In the end, everything is worth it; everything leads to the love the three of you have for one another. Nothing else matters except for the sweet and soft touch of your partners.

•

[navybrat817]

why is Thunderbolts Bucky so 🥵🥵🥵 please eat me up

I agree, nonnie!

Eat You Up

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky comes home after a mission and wastes no time making up for the time apart.

Word Count: Over 1.7k

Warnings: Established relationship, oral sex (f. receiving), light dirty talk, mention of cockwarming, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Sorry, lovelies. I was inspired. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

“Just landed. Safe and sound. Tough mission, but successful. Missed you. Be home soon.”

You reread the message, your heart rate picking up. Bucky had been away on a mission for a few days and couldn't reach out much. God, you missed him so much. Knowing now that your man would be home soon where he belonged, you let out a breath of relief and smiled.

You rushed to your bedroom and wasted no time getting ready for his arrival. The message was to the point: He was safe and sound, no injuries, and a tough mission meant he’d need some stress relief. Why not let him play with the person he missed most?

Your heart raced when you heard the footsteps outside of the bedroom door, waiting in anticipation in the middle of the bed. In a few moments, you two would reconnect. Being without him in your home for a few days left you longing. You missed his smile. His dry humor. The sight of him reading a book in his favorite chair. You missed all of him.

Bucky slowly pushed the door open, and you lost your breath when he met your gaze. The heat in the room spiked, but you shivered, your body suddenly feeling cold after days without his touch. His massive build took up most of the doorframe and he was still in his black tactical gear, a fingerless glove covering his right hand. Your beautiful soldier looked like he was still on a mission, his shoulders tight and jaw clenched.

And you didn't have a stitch of clothing on, your legs open and ready for him to do whatever he wanted.

His eyes darkened as they scanned your body, his breathing ragged. Whether it was from the mission or the relief of being back with you, the tension thickened in the air. His gaze paused at the juncture between your legs, his breath catching as he took in the sight of you, before he growled, “Look at you. Such a sight to come home to.” Stepping forward, his voice thick with desire, he added, “I could just eat you up.”

The room seemed to shrink as he stepped closer. His eyes never left you as he closed the distance, his gaze filled with adoration and hunger, his presence overwhelming. Everything about him was overwhelming in the best possible way. Your heart raced as he crawled on the bed, but you didn’t flinch. You were ready for him.

“If that's what you need, Sergeant,” you breathed, a teasing challenge in your smile. He exhaled sharply as you slid a hand down your torso, his chest rising and falling faster, as if he was holding himself back from taking you right then and there. “Then you'll get it.”

You could handle whatever he craved... and more. Maybe you'd make him beg for it for once the way you begged so many times before. No. You wouldn't be cruel enough to make him beg. At least not tonight. Not when you both needed it.

“Trying to touch what’s mine?” He grabbed your wrist before your fingers could reach home, your skin warm under his gentle grip. He was one of the most powerful men you knew, someone with enough strength to rip you in half if he wished, but he would never use his strength to hurt you. “You miss me?” The ache in his voice was more than desire. It was longing.

“I won't touch. It’s all yours.” Your chest tightened when he released your wrist, your eyes suddenly burning with unshed tears, your hands itching to feel his body and know for certain he was really there with you. “I always miss you when you're gone.”

You didn't like eating meals alone now since you had come to expect easy and tough conversations as the two of you moved around the kitchen and sat at the table. You enjoyed exploring your surroundings together, but craved nights cuddled up together on the couch as the television played in the background. Building a home with the ex-assassin was a dream come true.

He hovered over you and tilted your chin, giving you a second to take a breath, before he leaned down and claimed your mouth in a feverish kiss. The ferocity made you gasp, your arms wrapping around him to hold him close. Your nipples brushed against his shirt as you deepened the kiss, desperate and needy. The kiss was a promise, expressing everything you wanted to say before the night was over.

That you loved him, that he was all you needed, that your house was a home because he was back with you.

His hair fell in his face as he broke the kiss and moved his gloved hand between your legs. You mewled when he teased your slit, his stare as seductive as his touch. You rolled your hips up, seeking out more friction, wanting him to make good on his promise to eat you up.

“I missed you,” he whispered, gliding down your body with the grace of a large cat. The muscles in his back rippled as his shoulders spread you open for him, your hands gripping the sheets to keep you from grinding against his face. “And I missed this. Your taste. Your smell. Your sounds.”

You whimpered when his nose brushed your clit. “Bucky, please,” you begged, his hands taking hold of your hips and digging in. And here you thought neither of you would beg tonight.

But Bucky Barnes wasn't a heartless man. He showed mercy when he had to, which was why he took pity and licked a stripe up your pussy with a groan. Flames spread along your body as you threw your head back and moved your hands to grip his hair. He ate pussy skillfully, effortlessly, and all you could do was hold on and ride out the waves of ecstasy.

“Good girl. So beautiful. And all mine,” he murmured before he shoved his tongue inside your hole, your eyes rolling back and mouth parting. Your super soldier had his head buried between your legs like he never wanted to leave.

“I… Oh, fuck!” you cried, his gloved hand reaching up to toy with your breast. His fingers teased your nipple, his metal thumb rubbing your clit, and you couldn't stop yourself from pushing your hips closer. You had no shame in humping his face as his tongue moved along your sensitive walls, his beard leaving the most delicious burn with each movement.

And if you smothered your lover with your cunt tonight, he’d proudly saunter up to the gates of whatever heaven you sent him to with a smile.

He pulled his tongue out, his mouth sucking on the swollen bundle of nerves as your thighs trembled. You lifted your head high enough to catch the feral look in his eyes. Pleasure climbed within you so quickly it left you dizzy. “Such a pretty pussy. Should write poems about it.”

“Oh, God,” you moaned, your head falling back again, heat filling your body.

“My name,” he growled, pushing two metal fingers into your wetness and pumping fast, knowing you wouldn't last much longer. You were right on the edge, ready to fall. He’d be there to catch you. “Say my name when you come.”

You didn't say his name as his tongue entered you once more. You shouted it, chanted it like a prayer, and soaked his mouth with your juices. He moaned as you fluttered around his tongue, and he continued to lap at you, trying to drink down every drop. He swept you up in waves of bliss and you were lucky you didn't drown.

Sparks still burst behind your eyes as he sat back to admire his work, making you clench around nothing as he licked his lips. You held out your arms with a whine, needing him close once again as you came back to yourself. He stretched out on top of you and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, your essence lingering on his. Your hands roamed where they could reach and it sent a thrill through you when he moaned.

“Hi,” he whispered after a moment, smiling and making your heart pound all over again.

“Hi,” you sighed, shutting your eyes and smiling, too, when he kissed each eyelid. You were lucky enough to witness this soft side of him, trusted enough for him to be vulnerable.

“You okay?” He kissed your forehead this time.

“Better than okay. You’re home,” you replied, breathing him in before you opened your eyes. Your heart stopped momentarily under his soft gaze. “Are you okay?”

He was the one out there fighting to keep the world safe. Not only that, he still fought the demons of his past from time to time. It wasn't fair, but you were there to help as you could.

“I’m good, doll. I’m home. Everything I need is right here,” he said, rocking his hips. You moaned when you felt how hard he was through his pants. He deserved to feel good. “And we have some lost time to make up for, so no falling asleep on me.”

“Lost time? It was only a few days,” you teased, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear when he huffed.

“A few days too many,” he said, not teasing at all as he leaned up to unbuckle his belt. “Drives me crazy being apart from you.” He would never leave you if he didn't have to.

“I know. I was just teasing. We can make up for every second you were away,” you assured him, knowing he wasn't done with you tonight by a long shot. You were fine with that since you wanted him just as badly as he wanted you. “Bucky?”

He paused before he could push his pants down. “Yeah, doll?”

You traced a heart on his forehead, wanting to erase the pain he endured and replace it with only good things. “I love you.”

He blinked the mist from his eyes and leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours. “I love you, too.”

When you finally fell asleep the following morning with his cock buried deep inside you, he whispered again that he loved you and that he couldn't wait to eat you up all over again once you woke up.

That's two back-to-back Bucky fics in a little over 29 hours from me with him being in love and not afraid to eat you like his last meal. 😂 Are you lovelies sick of me by now? I hope not. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[lavenderseiuu]

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

Thinking of... Itoshi Rin only being soft around you

cw! not proofread, maybe ooc, fluff fluff fluff

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

Everyone knew Itoshi Rin as distant. Sharp-edged. Untouchable.

He didn’t smile or make small talk. His glares could cut glass, and his silence filled the room more than most people’s voices ever could. Even his teammates kept their distance, because Rin wasn’t cruel. Just cold.

But you knew better.

Because right now, Rin was curled against your side on your too-small couch. One arm wrapped around your waist, the other tucked under his cheek like a cat. His eyes were half-lidded, lashes brushing your shirt. His breath warm against your skin, steady like he belonged there.

“You’re warm,” he mumbled, barely audible.

“You have a blanket that's literally warm,” you replied, amused.

“Doesn’t feel like you.” Your heart flipped.

He nuzzled closer, pressing his face into the curve of your neck. You didn’t think Rin ever relaxed like this with anyone else. He always seeemed like he was carrying the weight of the world, but here,right here—his heart just warmed up.

You ran your fingers through his hair, slow and gentle. He hummed low in his throat, nearly purring.

“ugh y’re such a baby,” you said, smiling. “Shut up,” he muttered, tightening his grip like he didn’t mean it.

“No one would believe me if I told them the ‘nonchalant ice dude’ turns into a clingy little sloth.”

He looked up then, eyes sleepy but soft. Too soft. That look wasn’t meant for anyone else.

“You won’t tell them.” You tilted your head. “No?”

He leaned in, lips brushing your cheek. “You’re mine. I’m only like this for you.”

Your breath caught in your chest. It wasn’t dramatic. But it was real

You smiled, wrapping your arm around him as he buried himself back into your hoodie like nothing happened.

“I love soft Rinnie,” you whispered.

“Stop calling me that.” “You literally just said—”

He kissed you. Light and warm and a little rushed like he was embarrassed. Then he pressed his face into your collarbone againand didn’t speak. Yeah, No one would believe it.

But Rin, your Rin, was the softest thing in the world

And that softness was yours

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

— seiu's note ! my first work... How are you guys feeling about it? I apologize if there are any wrong grammar I used, English isn't my first language, please give me any advice that's connected to writing, I'm still an amateur in writing, thank you sm for reading 🫶

thanks alot to @kuronarnze for helping me fix the problems in this fic and for your advices it really helped me :D ❤️

[illumeew]

varka x reader. months into this expedition, you never expected to find a single moment of peace. until now. when the night takes you away and you're left to bask in it the morning after.

includes: "morning after" cliché, established relationship, suggestive themes (read at your own discretion!), risque-risky pda, varka is lowk a tease (he tries to touch you, like, once, but it's 100% consensual), pure icky-sticky unadultered romance

you woke up first, buried underneath thick, weighted blankets that smelled of smoke from the harsh, winter atmosphere of nod-krai. the cold had always found ways to sneak in between the tents brought by the mondstadt expedition vanguard, but surprisingly, not this morning.

not with a, quite literal, human furnace behind you with strong arms wrapped around the curve of your torso like you’d vanish without something anchoring you down.

varka snored, the soft bare rumble in his chest vibrating against your back.

you peeked over your shoulder, and the sight almost made you weak in the knees again. hair tousled, brows relaxed, arms slack and heavy over your waist. his bare chest that littered of battles old and new rose and fell with the kind of peace you rarely saw him wear and never got to see outside the walls of your shared quarters. the grandmaster of the knights of favonius was always armored, alert, and braced for the next storm.

but the man beside you—your varka—was warm, and soft, and, most of all, human.

the fabric of the tent flapped in the breeze, one or two pairs of boots on the frost stirring amongst the quiet hums of the wind. some knights were awake, some were not, and you knew which was which. that was your job, after all, to know where everything and everyone was.

though you didn’t move an inch, not daring to disturb the peace.

you’d earned this moment of calm. he’d earned this moment of calm.

but alas, your grandmaster has always had a keen sense of hearing—something you admire greatly about him.

you felt a breath against your nape, followed by the deep rasp of his voice, still thick with sleep. “don’t tell me you're thinking already.”

you smiled to yourself. “well, someone has to. the delegation from the voynich guild is arriving today.”

he paused, then a groan left his mouth. “damn. i thought i’d get to keep you in bed longer.”

you turned slightly, just enough to see the way he grins with sleep still littering his face and the barest glint of mischief in his eyes.

you rolled your eyes. “you had me in bed all night, grandmaster.”

he hummed proudly, tucking his face into the crook of your neck. “mmh… still not enough.”

you heard him stretch, then felt a calloused hand wander under the blankets and closer to your—

you gasped, slapping his arm lightly.

“varka! we have knights waiting outside!”

“they can wait…” he muttered, lips trailing your shoulder. “let them think i’m wrestling a boar in here…”

“well, you were.” you looked away, warmth filling your face. “last night.”

that got a huff of a laugh from him.

a few minutes passed like that, the warmth reeling you back into his arms. he pressed lazy kisses into your shoulder, your neck, your jaw—all the places he’d already marked the night before—as if making sure you were still there.

finally, you sighed and tilted your head back into his shoulder. “we should be preparing. you’ve got a reputation to uphold, you know?”

“what about your reputation?” he murmured, kissing the edge of your ear. “mondstadt diplomat, favonius orator, expedition envoy…”

you smiled, eyes fluttering shut. “well… if you say it like that, it’s really their problem and not mine.”

varka leaned in, voice low. “let the historians write this one carefully then.”

you chuckled, pressing your palm to his chest and right over the steady beats of his heart. “if anyone asks, we were discussing trade routes.”

“in bed?” he smirked.

you gave one of yours. “with no clothes on.”

he hummed, satisfied. “efficient strategy, my love.”

there was a knock on the tent pole from outside, then a voice called out. “grandmaster varka? orator? dawn's breaking. the delegation is within miles.”

you both froze for a second, then sighed.

varka finally rolled onto his back with a heavy thud, rubbing his face. “archons, may the storms take them...”

you sat up, tugging the thick blanket around your shoulders. your joints ached and your hips were sore in the best kind of way. you caught him watching you when you glanced to the side to stretch your arms; the way his eyes glossed over, unguarded, like he was committing every curve of your body to memory.

you felt a hand rub against your lower back.

“tonight?” he asked, just a tad bit softer.

you turned to him, grinning, before leaning down to kiss him. “i’ll make sure the meetings today end early.” ;)

last one for varka, i promise—he's just tew good <3

dividers ⓒ @uzmacchiato