#trying to see things without my glasses 2

[phanchester]

phil looking at dan off-camera

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

[summertimemp3]

The Phil videos where Dan is behind the camera making him laugh and distracting him from getting to the point… that’s love I think

[goldenpinof]

Phil's 37th birthday countdown ↴

2 days: Trying to See Things Without My Glasses 2!

[ghostofasecretary]

it's been a while since i've cried hard enough to have a headache but. sure got there today, babes!

[peapod20001]

One of my many talents is the ability to do things, but not know I can do things

[timelessjk]

somehow, you. | jungkook au

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ summary: he was the quiet one in class. the type who never talked unless called on, who looked at the world from behind thick-rimmed glasses and stayed out of everyone’s way. you? you were the girl everyone knew. the one who never let anyone in. you weren’t looking for connection, and he wasn’t the kind to ask for it. but still… he did. and somehow, it worked.

ratings: 18+

pairing: jungkook x fem reader

genre: college AU, emotional intimacy, slightly slow burned.

warnings: explicit sexual content including unprotected sex (not advised), soft but possessive dirty talk, emotional vulnerability, praise, mild insecurity and reassurance, and a rough but tender dynamic in an established relationship. and ofc…big dicc jungkook cause UGH.

word count: 5.2k

a/n: hi! ok so. this is my very first fic i’m posting and i’m actually kind of losing my mind about it?? originally it was supposed to be two parts (pt.1 soft, pt.2 smut) but i got carried away and ended up writing it all in one go because i wouldn’t shut up abt this two!!

*banners/dividers credits to the owners ♡ ྀི

thank you for reading!! leave your comments on what u think of my first fic 🥺! 🤍 - Sher

requests are officially opened!

The classroom always smelled like old air and pen inks, a familiar background hum to every forgettable weekday morning.

You sat at the back, as always, where you could stretch your legs, twirl your pen, and zone out without anyone bothering you. People knew you, too well.

Not because you tried, but because the world couldn’t help but notice the girl who always seemed a little untouchable.

Then the teacher changed the seating plan.

“Jeon Jungkook. You’re moving to the back, beside her.”

A ripple of murmurs went through the class, subtle but present. You could feel the stares. You looked up just in time to see him glance nervously your way before lowering his eyes and walking toward the seat beside you.

Jungkook. Everyone knew who he was, even if he rarely spoke. Top of the class. Never late. Always dressed clean, minimal, quiet. You didn’t expect anything from him. Didn’t need another nerdy guy going stiff just because you shared a desk.

But that day, he surprised you.

He sat down carefully, barely making a sound, and opened his book. No fidgeting. No glances. Just… stillness. Until you heard the smallest breath of a murmur.

“Chapter’s interesting,” he said, eyes still on the page.

You blinked.

“What?”

He didn’t flinch. “The reading. It’s good. Surprising, kind of.”

You studied him, confused. He hadn’t even looked at you. It was like he wasn’t trying to talk to you—just thinking aloud, and you happened to hear.

You didn’t answer.

But your curiosity flickered.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚

The next few days, he didn’t speak again. But he was always on time. Always glancing at your desk when he thought you weren’t looking—quick, nervous flicks of his eyes.

Then came the Wednesday.

You’d forgotten your pens, bag full of it. Not on purpose—just one of those mornings where you left everything behind. You muttered something under your breath, frustrated, and slammed your bag down.

Before you could think to dig through your things again, a sleek black pen rolled across your desk.

You turned. Jungkook was still facing forward, penless himself now.

“You sure?” you asked, surprised.

He nodded once. “I have another.”

You waited for a smile. A joke. Some kind of flirtation.

Nothing.

Just a calm silence.

It threw you off more than someone asking for your number ever could.

Then came the Thursday rainstorm.

You stayed behind after class, waiting for it to ease, stuck at the school’s entrance while thunder rumbled in the distance. Everyone else had already left, except for him.

He walked up beside you without a word, holding an umbrella. For a second, you thought he was going to walk past.

He hesitated.

“You live near East Gate, right?” he asked, voice low, eyes on the rain.

You narrowed your eyes. “How do you know that?”

He shrugged. “I’ve seen you leave that way. Every day.”

You didn’t answer.

He tilted the umbrella slightly toward you. “Come on.”

You stared at him like he’d grown two heads. But you followed.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚

That walk changed everything.

He didn’t try to impress you. Didn’t pry. Just walked beside you, holding the umbrella with quiet precision to make sure it covered you both.

When you reached your turn, you stopped.

“Why’re you doing this?” you asked, genuinely confused.

He paused. Looked at you for the first time, really looked. Eyes soft behind his wet fringe.

“Because you look like no one ever asks how you’re doing,” he said. “And i kind of want to.”

You stood frozen as he walked away, raindrops hitting your shoulders after the umbrella disappeared with him down the path.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚

From then on, he became your quiet shadow.

Always beside you in class. But not in a clingy way. He respected your space but showed up when it mattered.

One morning, you came in late, eyes puffy from a night you didn’t want to talk about. You slumped into your chair, hoodie up, bare faced (that rarely happens whenever you go to class) sleeves tugged over your hands.

He didn’t say anything.

But when you finally looked at your desk, there was a folded note, written in perfect; clean handwriting.

“It’s okay to have days like this. You’re allowed to fall apart sometimes. I’ve got notes if you need them.”

You folded the paper slowly. Pressed your lips together. And something inside you melted.

You weren’t used to being seen like that.

You weren’t used to someone not asking for anything in return.

That day, you turned to him and whispered, “Thanks.” giving him a small smile.

He looked up, startled, as if he wasn’t expecting you to respond.

He then smiled, unsure, but real.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚

You think to yourself, you might fell for him. Maybe. Which is a weird feeling to you.

Given that you both barely have a proper (real) conversation.

Well you did exchange numbers—that’s because you both somehow were assigned to work together, so Jungkook thought it would be better to interact outside of class.

For study purpose of course.

Eventually both of you did text one another occasionally. Just short texts nothing conversation worthy.

Yeah, you felt this weird butterflies.

But, you didn’t fall all at once.

It happened slowly. Over study sessions you didn’t consider were study sessions, coffee walks that became routines, quiet texts late at night when he’d ask, “Did you eat today?” and would not stop asking until you said yes.

Over the time, during study sessions, you found yourself laughing around him. Trusting him.

Letting your guard down without realizing it had dropped.

One night, you asked through text, in your bed, loneliness crept again, “You know i’m kind of… a mess, right?”

He replied few seconds too fast.

“I know,” he said. “But you’re the kind of mess that makes sense to me.”

And you fell.

Quietly. Completely.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚

You weren’t sure when the lines blurred. When study sessions became excuses to sit a little closer, or when shared coffee turned into shared glances.

Jungkook didn’t rush anything. He never did.

But one Friday, something shifted.

He caught up with you after class, his hoodie sleeves pushed halfway up, headphones around his neck, looking nervous in a way that made your heart weirdly ache.

“Hey,” he said, walking beside you. “There’s this exhibition at the design building… the one with digital installations. I thought maybe you’d like it.”

You turned to look at him. “You inviting me?”

He nodded, looking at the floor. “If you want. No pressure. It’s tomorrow.”

You almost teased him. Almost said something sarcastic just to keep things from feeling too serious. But something in the way he looked open, nervous. The sincere in his eyes made you soften.

“Yeah,” you said. “I’d like that.”

⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚

The exhibition was small. Kind of quiet but dreamy.

Digital light shifted across the walls like watercolor in motion. Projected clouds drifted across the floor.

Every room had its own ambient sound. It’s soft, with the electronic music and echoing whispers. It should’ve felt awkward, being alone together in that hush.

But with him, it didn’t.

You stood in one of the installations surrounded by cascading lines of digital rain, blue and silver glowing all around and he looked at you like he wanted to remember the moment.

“I like this,” you said quietly.

He glanced at the ceiling, then back at you. “Me too.”

A beat passed.

“Honestly… i didn’t know if you’d say yes,” he admitted. “To coming here.”

You tilted your head. “Why not?”

He looked at you. “Because i’m not like the other people you talk to.”

“You mean the loud ones? I don’t talk to just anyone, anymore. Besides, didn’t we spend a good amount of time together for the past month to be considered as…friends?”

He smiled, barely. “Yeah. The ones who know what to say. And yeah i knew that but still, i thought it was just a study session, coffee catch ups with you—that you’d rather spend your time with your other…friends.”

You shifted your weight. “Maybe i got tired of people who always know what to say and FYI, i’d rather spend my time with you.”

Silence.

Just the sound of soft electronic rainfall.

Then he said it so low you almost missed it.

“I really like being around you.”

You turned to him, heart suddenly too loud in your chest.

He’s so dreamy, handsome.

“I really like being around you too.”

And he looked at you like you’d just said the one thing he’d been waiting to hear.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚

Your first kiss wasn’t at the exhibition.

That night had already held enough. The way he kept sneaking glances at you while pretending to read the plaque beside a sculpture, the way his hand hovered close to yours but never quite touched.

You walked the whole gallery like that, quiet but full of something neither of you wanted to name yet.

Later, he offered to walk you home. You said yes.

The air was cold but not bitter, the city dim and quiet in that in-between hour.

Your footsteps echoed against the pavement, your breath blooming white in the air. He kept his hands in his coat pockets, close but not brushing yours.

“Did you like the exhibit?” he asked, his voice low and a little shy.

“I did,” you said. “But i think i liked walking around with you more.”

He turned his head slightly, surprised. “Yeah?”

You nodded, not looking at him. “It was… nice. I don’t usually do things like that. With people.”

Jungkook was quiet for a moment. Then “You mean dates?”

You blinked. “Was this a date?”

His voice went even softer. “I wanted it to be.”

You stopped walking. Your apartment was just ahead, but you didn’t want to go in yet. The moment felt full.

Suspended.

He looked at you, eyes searching. “Can I be honest?”

You tilted your head. “Aren’t you always?” you giggled.

He smiled faintly. “I think about you a lot more than i should.”

You swallowed. “What does that mean?”

“It means i’ve liked you for a while. Even before you started talking to me.”

“You’re not exactly… forward, you know.”

“I didn’t think i was your type.”

“You’re not,” you said simply. “At least, not what i thought my type was.”

His expression didn’t change much, but you saw the flicker of hope behind his eyes.

You glanced down at your keys, twisting them between your fingers. “You’ve been patient with me.”

“I don’t mind waiting,” he said. “But sometimes i think… i just want to know if i’m the only one feeling this.”

You looked at him then. Really looked.

His scarf was wrapped high, almost to his mouth. His cheeks were pink from the cold, eyes warm, uncertain, but wide open.

He wasn’t trying to be smooth. He was just there, telling you the truth.

So then, slowly and tentatively, he stepped closer, his breath shallow.

His voice barely carried “Can I kiss you?”

You felt everything in you pause.

And then “Yeah,” you said softly, heart pounding.

“Yeah, you can.”

He didn’t hesitate after that. He leaned in, hand rising to your cheek, thumb brushing gently across your skin. His lips met yours in a kiss that was soft, slow, careful.

He was learning something sacred; he didn’t want to rush what he’d waited so long to feel.

When he pulled back, your lips still tingled from the warmth of him, your chest full and fluttering.

You smiled, breath curling in the air. “You always this careful?”

His voice was low, but sure. “Only when it’s important.”

And you knew, right then, it was.

You didn’t talk much after that kiss.

Not because it was awkward. Because it wasn’t. It was the kind of silence that wrapped itself around you like a blanket. Soft, steady, enough.

He waited for you to open the door. Didn’t push. Just gave you that small smile, the one he only ever gave you and said, “Text me when you’re inside.”

You nodded, stepped in, and closed the door.

Then leaned your forehead against it.

You were in trouble.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚

The next few days were different in all the ways that mattered.

You still sat beside each other in class. Still studied together in the library. But now there were new things. A small, subtle shifts.

His knee brushed against yours and didn’t move. He’d lean in when he spoke, voice softer. You’d catch him looking at you, and this time, you didn’t look away.

You weren’t used to this version of yourself; unguarded. And Jungkook, for all his quietness, seemed to understand that.

He never rushed you. Never asked “what are we?” or “where is this going?”

He just stayed.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚

It wasn’t planned.

The day had been normal. Classes, campus noise, another group project that had you rolling your eyes while Jungkook just quietly took notes. He always took notes, even when no one else cared. You liked that about him. You’d never told him.

You were both walking back from campus, the sky soft with evening gray, when it started to drizzle.

Jungkook held his bag over your head.

You laughed. “You know i’m not gonna melt, right?”

He just looked down at you. “You’re still cold when it rains. You get quiet.”

You didn’t answer. Mostly because he was right. You did get quiet.

And he noticed.

By the time you reached your apartment, your hair was damp, and your mood had shifted. You weren’t sad, just heavy.

One of those days. You didn’t say much as you opened the door and let him in.

Jungkook toed off his shoes carefully, still holding that nervous energy he always carried when he was in your space. You dropped your keys in the bowl by the door and stood in the kitchen, hands on the counter.

“Want tea?” you asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. That’d be nice.”

The silence between you was soft. Not tense. Just full of all the things you weren’t ready to say out loud. You made tea. He sat at the table. You sat across from him, knees brushing under the wood.

Then, out of nowhere, you said it.

“I don’t let people in.”

He looked up, startled. You weren’t looking at him—just staring into your mug.

“I don’t know how to do that,” you continued. “It’s easier when no one expects anything.”

He stares.

“I never expected anything,” he said.

You finally looked at him. He looked… calm. A little sad. But calm.

“I just liked being around you.”

You nodded slowly. “You still do?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Even more now.”

The air between you shifted. Slowed. Deepened.

And you whispered, “Stay tonight?”

He didn’t ask questions.

So he said, “Okay.”

⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚

You sat on the floor of your bedroom while he changed into the extra clothes you gave him. A quiet hum played from the speaker, barely audible.

When he stepped back into the room; barefoot, hoodie sleeves pushed up, eyes soft, you suddenly felt that aching fear again.

What if you messed this up?

What if it didn’t last?

And then he crossed the room and knelt in front of you.

His hand rested gently on your knee. “You don’t have to be anything for me,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to perform. Or smile. Or fix anything.”

You looked down at your lap, fighting the warmth in your throat.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you admitted.

“I’ll wait while you figure it out,” he said.

Just like that.

No grand declaration. Just steady, honest patience.

You reached for his hand and held it.

When you finally crawled into bed beside him, there was no space left between you. You pressed your back to his chest, his arm wrapping loosely around your waist. His breath tickled your shoulder.

“You okay?” he whispered.

“Yeah,” you whispered back. You meant it.

You woke to the quiet shift of fabric. The soft sound of him sitting up beside you.

Morning light filtered through the curtains in a pale blur. Your back was still warm from where his arm had rested. You blinked slowly, your mind caught between dreams and now.

Jungkook was already awake, hoodie wrinkled, hair messy from sleep.

He was sitting at the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve.

He looked like he was thinking too loud.

You propped yourself up on your elbow. “Hey,” you said, voice scratchy.

He turned to you immediately, like he’d been waiting. “Hey,” he echoed. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

You sat up slowly, pulling the blanket around your shoulders. “You okay?”

He nodded. Then shook his head. Then let out a quiet breath, like he wasn’t sure how to start.

“Can i ask you something?” he said softly.

You stilled, heart already beginning to tap faster in your chest. “Yeah.”

He looked down at his hands, picking at a loose thread on the cuff of his sleeve.

“I don’t want to ruin anything. I’m not trying to pressure you,” he started, voice careful. “But… what are we?”

You didn’t answer right away.

His eyes lifted. “I just…last night meant something to me. You mean something to me. And i know you don’t let people in easily. So i don’t want to assume anything, but i also don’t want to keep pretending this is just… nothing.”

You watched him for a moment, your throat tight.

“I didn’t think you’d ask,” you murmured.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re usually the quiet one. Yknow.. the patient one.”

“I still am,” he said. “But being patient doesn’t mean I’m not feeling things too.”

You swallowed, fingers tugging at the edge of the blanket. “I’m not good at this. I don’t know how to explain what i feel when i’m with you. It’s new. And a little scary.”

He nodded slowly. “Same.”

You looked at him. “But i don’t want it to be nothing either.”

Jungkook’s expression softened. “Yeah?”

You nodded, quieter this time. “Yeah.”

He shifted closer, his knee bumping gently against yours. “Then maybe… we don’t have to label it yet. But I just needed to know i wasn’t alone in it.”

“You’re not,” you said.

You meant it.

Jungkook exhaled a breath he’d been holding. Then reached out, tentative at first and he curls his fingers around yours.

“Okay,” he said, voice warm now. “Then i’m yours. However long it takes.”

You smiled, eyes stinging just a little. “You’re really not what i expected.”

He grinned finally, “I get that a lot.”

And in the quiet that followed, your fingers remained laced with his.

And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like you had to run.

It had been a month.

One month since Jungkook had leaned across your front step and kissed you like it mattered. Since he’d touched your face like he was afraid you’d vanish if he blinked too fast.

And somehow, things still felt new. It’s still unreal in moments like now, with him sprawled across your bed in a hoodie, reading on his stomach, feet swaying behind him like a kid.

You were half-working on an assignment, half-watching him.

“You’re staring,” he said without looking up.

“I’m admiring,” you corrected.

He turned his head just enough to catch your smirk, then gave a small smile. “Baby,” he said under his breath, “you’re distracting.”

“You like it,” you replied, nudging his leg with your foot.

He hummed. “I do.”

⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚

Your relationship had grown into something… daily. Quiet rituals that made your chest ache. He’d walk you to class with your fingers looped in his sleeve. He’d wait for you outside the library, sipping iced coffee and reading the latest novel you lent him. You started wearing his hoodies without asking. He stopped looking surprised when you kissed his cheek mid-sentence.

But even with the sweetness, there was still something unspoken hanging between you.

Something warmer.

Like tonight.

He was still lying on your bed when you finally gave up pretending to work and climbed over him, plopping yourself beside his back with a sigh.

He closed his book and peeked at you. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you murmured. “You’re just comfy.”

He let out a soft laugh. “You say that every time you use me as a pillow.”

“Because it’s true, baby.”

You shifted, laying your head against his back. Your palm flattened over his spine.

Jungkook went still for a second and then melted.

“Do you…” you hesitated, unsure why your throat suddenly felt tight, “do you ever want to do more than just lie here?”

He was silent for a moment.

Then, softly: “Yeah. I do.”

You sat up a little, just enough to look at him.

His cheeks were already flushed.

“I just never know if you’re comfortable,” intertwining your fingers together.

“Or if you want to. I’ve never really… gotten this far before.” he added.

You blinked. “You haven’t?”

He shook his head. “I’ve dated a few, but it never got serious. And no one ever really looked at me like you do.”

That last part made your chest squeeze.

“You mean like you hung the stars?” you teased gently.

He smiled, eyes shy. “Kind of, yeah.”

You reached out, brushing your fingers through his hair. “You’re not the only nervous one, baby.”

“I’m not?”

You shook your head. “I’ve been with my fair share of…flings? boyfriends? whatever you wanna call it—but it never felt right nor did it worked out, obviously. It always felt like they expected something from me. You don’t.”

Jungkook shifted, sitting up properly now. You were both facing each other, legs crossed.

“Can i ask you something?” he said quietly.

You nodded.

His voice was careful. “If we… wanted to try something. Anything. Would you tell me if you weren’t ready?”

“Always,” you promised.

He reached forward, brushing a thumb against your cheek. “Okay.”

You leaned into his palm.

And after a beat, you whispered, “Would you kiss me now?”

His lips twitched. “I’d give you anything you want.”

When he kissed you slow and warm, one hand still cupping your jaw, it felt like everything in the world slowed down. Like it was just you and him, tangled in hush and trust.

You shifted closer, your hand slipping beneath the hem of his hoodie, resting just above his waistband. You felt him freeze, just slightly.

“Too much?” you whispered.

“No,” he breathed. “Just new.”

You smiled into the kiss. “We’ll take it slow.”

“Promise?” he breathes into the kiss.

“Promise.”

And when he pulled you fully into his lap, burying his face in your neck with a soft laugh, it felt like something more than new.

It happened on a night that didn’t feel special; no candles, no dramatic music, just the two of you in your room after dinner, legs tangled on your bed, warm with laughter and full from pasta Jungkook had insisted on cooking himself.

He was wearing gray sweatpants and one of your oversized shirts, sleeves pushed up, his hair messily falling across his forehead.

You had just pulled him down for a kiss. Playful, slow.

But then it lingered. Deepened.

And something shifted.

His tongue slipped against yours, deliberate. His hand came up to cup the back of your neck, pulling you closer like he couldn’t help himself anymore.

When you whimpered against his lips, he pulled back slightly, gaze heavy-lidded.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low and rough.

You nodded, breathless. “Yeah. Just… wasn’t expecting you to kiss me like that.”

He brushed your cheek with his thumb. “Like what?”

“Like you’ve been waiting to.”

“I have been,” he murmured. “For so fucking long.”

Your chest tightened, breath caught in your throat.

“We’ve kissed many, many times before?,” you giggled.

And then his lips was on yours again, more desperate this time.

Jungkook leaned over you, pressing you into the mattress, his body slotting between your thighs like it was instinct.

You felt how hard he was through the thin fabric of your shorts. He wasn’t trying to hide it. He wanted you to feel it.

“Jungkook,” you breathed, tugging at his shirt. “Please.”

He sat back just enough to yank it over his head, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. “You sure?”

“Baby,” you said, reaching for him again, “I’ve never been more sure.”

Something in his expression cracked open at that relief, hunger, something fierce and protective all at once.

“Then let me have you,” he said, voice dark, breath ragged. “Let me fuck you like you deserve.”

The way he said it, with need dripping into every syllable made your whole body shudder.

He tugged your shorts down fast, your panties going with them. When you gasped, he kissed the inside of your thigh, then hovered over you again, his cock straining visibly in his sweats.

“God,” he whispered, eyes raking over you. “You’re so fucking pretty like this. Laid out for me.”

Your hands reached for him, desperate. “I want you, Jungkook. I don’t wanna wait.”

“You won’t,” he said, voice curling around you like silk and smoke.

He shoved his pants down just enough to free himself, stroking himself slowly as he stared at you.

“You’ve got no idea what you do to me,” he murmured. “No idea how long i wanna be inside you.”

You reached between your legs, spreading yourself open for him.

His mouth dropped open slightly. “Fuck.”

He lined himself up, eyes locked on yours. “Tell me if i go too fast, okay?”

You nodded, heart hammering. “I trust you.”

That did something to him.

He pushed in slow, deep, all at once.

Your breath hitched, legs trembling.

“Holy fuck,” Jungkook groaned, head falling to your shoulder. “You feel like heaven. So wet for me already.”

You clung to him, nails dragging lightly down his back.

“Move,” you gasped. “I need you.”

He obeyed without hesitation, pulling back, then slamming into you again with a rhythm that made your head spin.

It was hard and deep. Like he knew exactly how to tear you apart and put you back together.

“Baby,” he breathed, panting against your throat, “you’re taking me so well.”

You moaned, legs tightening around him.

“You always this tight, or is it just for me?”

“Only you,” you choked out, voice cracking. “Only ever been like this for you.”

That made him growl.

“You feel perfect. Like you’re made for me.”

Every thrust dragged a whimper from your lips. Every kiss to your neck made you melt further under him.

You could feel how careful he was, even in the roughness. Like he wanted you to feel claimed, but not hurt. Never that.

“You like when i talk like this?” he asked, voice low in your ear.

“Yes,” you moaned. “Fuck, Jungkook.”

“You make me lose my mind, princess. Got me thinking about you all day. Couldn’t wait to fuck you full of my come inside.”

Your back arched, nails digging into his shoulders.

He shifted his hips, angling deeper. “You gonna come for me like this? Gonna come on my cock hm?”

You nodded desperately, tears brimming at the corners of your eyes. “Yes….don’t stop.”

“Look at me,” he whispered.

You did.

And in the silence that followed, he slowed down, but pressed in deep and stayed there.

His body trembled above yours, like he was holding something that wasn’t his release, but something heavier.

You cupped his cheek gently. “Jungkook?”

His voice broke.

“I love you,” he whispered; then again, faster, almost panicked. “I love you so much it’s scaring me.”

You stared up at him, eyes wide.

“I—” His throat worked as he swallowed, his brows drawn tight with emotion. “I never thought i’d have this. You. I never thought someone like you would ever even look at me.”

“Jungkook—”

“I used to watch you,” he continued, voice cracking. “In class. You were always so confident. So distant. But then you sat next to me,” he growled. “God, i still remember the way you looked that day. I thought it was a joke. Like there’s no way you would sit beside me.”

Your chest ached. He kept going.

“But you did. You stayed. You talked to me. You let me see pieces of you no one else gets to. And i still don’t know why. I still think maybe you’ll wake up and realize you could do better and just… leave.”

You shook your head, eyes stinging.

“But you don’t,” he whispered. “You stayed. You’ve been patient with me when i don’t know what to say. You still kiss me like i matter.”

His voice dropped lower, barely a breath.

“I don’t know what i did to deserve you. But fuck—i’m so glad you exist. I’m so glad you sat next to me.”

Your lips parted, but nothing came out.

He saw the silence as hesitation, and something in his face crumpled.

“It’s okay,” he said quickly, pulling back just slightly. “You don’t have to say it back. I just….i needed you to know. Even if i’m not what you expected. Even if I’m not enough.”

And that’s when it hit you.

This boy; this quiet, soft-hearted boy had been holding it in for months.

You surged up and kissed him.

You kissed him like you were giving him an answer.

He gasped against your lips when you pulled away.

“I love you,” you whispered. “Are you kidding? You’re everything i want and more.”

He blinked, stunned.

“I didn’t say it sooner because i was scared i’d ruin this,” you said. “But Jungkook… you are everything i could ever ask for.”

He let out a shaky breath, half a laughing, half a sobbing as he kissed you again, deeper this time, needily.

You weren’t sure what hurt more. The way he was moving inside you, or the way he was looking at you.

Like you were something he’d never believed he could have.

Every thrust was deep, steady, but trembling with emotion. He was holding on for dear life. His forehead pressed to yours, sweat on his brow, his breath hot and uneven.

“God,” Jungkook groaned, voice raw, “you feel so good, too good.”

You cupped his face again, thumbs brushing over his flushed cheeks. “You can let go. i’ve got you.”

But he didn’t. Not yet.

“I don’t want this to end,” he whispered. “I don’t want us to end.”

“We won’t,” you said softly. “I’m right here baby.”

He choked on a breath, hips stuttering. “I’ve never… never loved anyone like this.”

You nodded, tears welling. “Me either.”

And still, he didn’t stop moving. Not when your body clung to his like a prayer, as your nails curled against his back, while your lips parted with little gasps that sounded like his name.

“Let go, baby,” you whispered. “I want you to come inside. Cmon baby.”

His pace faltered; sharper, desperate. “Can’t believe you’re mine,” he breathed. “Can’t believe it’s you.”

Then, with a deep groan against your neck, he finally gave in as he shuddered in your arms, body tensing, spilling into you like it was all too much and not enough at once.

You held him through it.

Through the tremble in his limbs.

He whispered “I love you” that followed on the heels release. Ropes of come dripping out as he pulls out slowly then inside again. You moaned at the sensation.

He didn’t move for a while. He just stayed there, inside you, wrapped around you, like he couldn’t stand to lose the warmth.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, stroking his hair. “You don’t have to hold on so tight.”

He nuzzled into your shoulder. “I want to, though.”

“I know,” you smiled. “Me too.”

Eventually, he shifted, settling beside you, your bodies still tangled beneath the blankets.

The silence was heavy but comforting. No more fear. No more holding back.

Just breathing. Together.

You turned to look at him, and he was already watching you.

“What?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

He traced your jaw with his thumb, eyes soft.

“Out of everyone in this whole world… somehow, it was you.”

Your chest ached.

You kissed him, slow and deep and sure.

And you thought, yeah.

Somehow, it was him too.

[ghostedbunnie]

nightmare in the daylight

knight!ghost x fem!reader

based on my prompt that you can find here.

warnings: non-con/dub-con, size kink, spanking, oral (f.receiving), fingering (f.receiving), thigh riding, biting, creampie, breeding kink

a/n: i feel so rusty so please be gentle i rewrote this way too many times, it was a lot longer and had more plot but i might just end up writing pt.2 if there is interest, I added a tag list for those who wanted to see this! 🫶

Ghost hadn't anticipated encountering a robbery on the forest trail while en route to collect his king's future wife. It was unexpected but not unwelcome; he was yearning for a skirmish, for blood and broken bones. The recent tranquility had left him restless. These bandits wouldn't pose much of a challenge, but they would at least satisfy his craving.

The skies began to pour as soon as he dismounted from his horse, startling the highwaymen. They were engaged in a one-sided fight with a few knights who had undoubtedly been sent to protect the carriage on its way to his kingdom. Before any of them could react to his arrival, heads started rolling. Chaos erupted once more, with screams of terror cutting through the forest and startling the remaining fauna.

After the final enemy fell to a sword through his abdomen, Ghost approached the carriage with slow, deliberate steps. As he opened the door, he was taken by surprise as a curtain was thrown into his face and a shard of glass was aimed for his neck by a scrawny, wild-looking maid. Despite your trembling, there was a fierce determination in your eyes, a vow that you would not give up without a struggle. Beneath his face plate, the corner of his mouth curled up, and with a wry snort, he deflected the shard from your bleeding hand. Seizing you by the back of your neck like a feisty kitten showing its claws, he pulled you out of the carriage and dropped you onto the chilly, muddy ground. As he turned back to the carriage to retrieve the princess, he realized she was no warrior; she had fainted at the sight of his imposing figure silhouetted against the moonlight.

As he carries your mistress to his horse, you launch at his back, kicking and screaming, trying to make him let her go. He unceremoniously deposits her on the horse like a sack of potatoes. Finally, he turns back to catch your hands, which have been beating at his back, with one of his much bigger hands. Your eyes go wide with terror as the reality of your position with this beast sinks in. He can't help but relish in the look of you now, wet hair sticking to your face, wild eyes, and scratches on your cheek from the broken glass. You look like a tasty meal for his beastly appetite and he's been starving for far too long. You are unaware of it but attracting his attention will be the worst mistake of your life. As he draws you closer with your bound wrists, he whispers into your ear so that you can hear him over the pouring rain, “Yer brave but stupid, girl.” After that, he hits the back of your neck and everything goes black.

The next thing you know, you are standing in front of the king who explains the entire situation. However, somehow that doesn't help the sinking feeling in your stomach, especially when the king mentions a reward for the behemoth of a man towering over you. He is still covered in blood, and daylight doesn't make him any less terrifying. He stalks around like a nightmare in black leathers that hug his form tight and emphasize his width. As if sensing your thoughts, he takes a step closer, taking up more of your space, and before you can move away, you catch the last words uttered by the king: “You brought me, my bride, Ghost, it's only fair you get a reward. Take your pick - anything you wish for will be yours.”

A weighty, gloved paw settles on the nape of your neck, causing you to startle. "I'll take 'er." Your mistress immediately starts to protest but despite her objections, the king simply nods and smiles, disregarding you entirely. You have no option but to allow the beast, that he called Ghost, to guide you away with a firm hand on your nape.

After navigating through several twists and turns, you find yourself in an unremarkable room. It contains only the absolute necessities—a bed and very little else. The one thing that draws your attention in the room is the sizeable tub that is still emitting steam, indicating it was just filled a few minutes ago.

Silently, Ghost pushes you towards the tub, and you promptly begin to retreat away from it. You refuse to bathe in his presence. Even though you are just a servant, you are still a virtuous lady.

“Either you go voluntarily or I'll throw you in kickin' and screamin'.” He growls and then says, "I'll relish it either way." You can sense the predatory undertone in his voice. You're fighting a losing battle, as going willingly gives him complete control, yet resisting might provoke an even more... primal response.

You break free from his hold, realizing that he let you go willingly. 

"Can you... turn around?" he scoffs, moving to a chair that creaks under his weight. Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, he gestures for you to proceed. Though you want to scream or lash out, you hold back, sensing that he's waiting for you to lose control. Instead, you turn around and slowly peel off your muddied and torn dress. As you reach the chemise underneath, you sneak a peek and notice he has removed his helmet and face plate, revealing short dirty blond hair, black coal marks around his eyes, and prominent scars cutting through his lips and brow. Despite his broken nose, he remains strangely alluring, which frightens you. Hastily, you turn back, slide the chemise down, and attempt to hide under the steaming water.

"Good girl," he growls, satisfied with your obedience. Just as the relief that maybe this is all he wanted starts to sink into your bones, it's replaced with dread when you notice he starts shedding his clothes too. He loosens up his dark, blood-stained leathers with ease and deftness you wouldn't expect from a man his size.

"What are you doing?" Panic is evident in your question, but it doesn't seem to bother him at all.

"Can't bathe with my clothes on," he answers matter-of-factly. Once again, a wave of indignation courses through you, but it's quickly overshadowed by a pang of heat that forces you to rub your thighs together underwater. Your eyes can't help but stay glued to him, just as he did to you when you were taking your dress off. He is now down to his breeches, and when he pulls them down his thick thighs, you audibly gasp when you notice he is not wearing anything underneath. This earns you an amused chuckle, especially when he catches you looking again through your fingers.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him, but before your thoughts can drift to what lies between his powerful thighs, he steps into the tub with you. Water spills over the edges, though he doesn't seem to mind. He pulls you close, turning you so your back presses against him, your body nestled between his legs, leaning on his firm chest. The light tickle of his hair brushes against your skin, and his strong arm rests across your stomach, fingers splayed making you feel even smaller. The contact makes you squirm, but as you try to pull away, you only stir the hardening length behind you, making you flush with heat.

“Relax,” he grunts into your ear, more command than a suggestion.

“How can I possibly –ah.” Your reply gets cut off by a moan as his other hand falls from the edge of the tub and wanders between your legs. Your attempts at closing your legs seem futile even with one hand he is strong enough to force his way in and drag his fingers through your folds nearing the opening. Your spine arches instinctively and he answers with a nip to your neck and jaw, while forcing a finger up to the first knuckle in. 

“Gotta loosen you up a bit, pet.” You have no choice but to surrender to his touch as he sinks his finger in and curls it, drawing a moan out of you before you clap a hand over your mouth to keep the sounds in. But all that decorum is forgotten when he adds a second one and scissors them before slowly prodding you with the third making you see stars. The tension building in your body suddenly snaps, sending you reeling, legs going numb and your fingers digging into his arm still wrapped around your stomach. 

With your mind hazy from your first-ever orgasm, you don't even register that he pulls you out of the bath, drying you, and carrying you to the bed in the center of the spacious room. Your body already half asleep.

His gravelly voice pulls you out of your post-orgasmic haze. “Naive, little thing.” Suddenly he is trailing hungry, open-mouthed, and nippy kisses down the length of your body. Marking your neck and collarbones with angry red marks, biting down harder than necessary on the underside of your breast leaving behind imprints of his teeth, and making you hiss when the pain mixes with the pleasure, he licks a trail down your stomach and in a moment of clear-headedness you try to fist his hair and tug him up and away from your center but his hair is cut too short for any leverage. When you lock eyes with him, between your legs forcing them open with hunger and lust written all over his face you try to get away just for him to deliver a loud smack to your outer thigh before dragging you closer and licking a stripe through your folds with a loud guttural groan that you feel more than you hear it.

His thumb circles your clit while he alternates kissing, sucking, and fucking you with his tongue. When your squirming in an attempt to get away turns into grinding your hips against his face, his other hand rests on your stomach adding slight pressure and making you cry out which only spurs him on. The sounds that reverberated through his chest were nothing short of animalistic and when your second orgasm shot through your core, you fell limp against the sheets with a moan that would make you blush if at least half of your brain was still functioning properly. A new wave of panic sets in when you realize that he isn't stopping. On the contrary, he probes you with his fingers in addition to his tongue. You can feel the coil in your lower belly tightening again, heating up with his ministrations.

You plead with him, saying you can't take anymore just for him to disregard it with a growl, “You've got plenty more in ya.” 

You've lost count of how many times you came when he manhandled you around onto your hands and knees propping your hips up with a pillow. You turn to look at him with heavy-lidded eyes and your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him standing behind you with his massive hand tugging at his thick, angry-looking, and leaking cock with his eyes glued to your core, still pulsing and wet from all your previous orgasms. Without warning he grabs your hips, aligns the blunt head of his cock with your entrance, and pushes in. Your fingers dig into the sheets from the sheer stretch as you mewl and whimper when he drags himself all the way to slam back in. Everything is too much and not enough at the same time, with every thrust his fingers dig into your hips and you are sure there will be fingerprints left with how hard he is gripping you and the idea makes you wetter. Prompted by the delicious drag of his cock your walls keep tightening around him, as he pushes you closer and closer to your release. One of his muscular arms circles your waist, his chest flush to your back, as his other arm comes to rest next to your head with one of his legs still firmly planted on the floor and the other resting next to you on the bed for better purchase. This new angle combined with the gravelly grunts so close to your ear become your undoing and you hurtle full-force into another mind-numbing orgasm with Ghost following close behind.

“Come f'r me, pet.” Again, not a suggestion but a command and who are you to refuse him? So you do as he says, pussy fluttering from the aftershocks as he fucks you through it, thumb circling your clit before he fills you up, not allowing you to move an inch, keeping your hips propped up and when he pulls out which drags another set of whimpers from you he meticulously pushes his spend back with thick, calloused fingers. “Gotta make sure it takes.” 

If your consciousness weren't slipping away, you'd likely be alarmed, but instead, your eyes begin to close again, and this time, sleep claims you.

You wake to a heavy weight pressing down on your back, and it takes a moment for your mind to catch up with the events of yesterday. When it does, your entire body flushes and you attempt to move out of bed, only to find it futile. You're pinned beneath strong arms marked with scars—some from arrows, large and small, and others older, circular, and still appearing raw.

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted as a thick, muscular thigh presses deeper between your legs, forcing them apart. Without much thought, you begin to grind against it, a primal urge stirring within you. Despite the lingering soreness from yesterday, a fresh wave of need starts to build, and any trace of resistance fades in the face of overwhelming pleasure. It feels shameful, but you can't stop the tentative movements, slowly finding a rhythm—until the sudden flex of his thigh makes you gasp, your eyes rolling back.

“So needy,” he growls close to your ear but there's no trace of anger in his voice, if anything he sounds pleased. “Come on, ride it harder.” He punctuates the sentence with yet another flex of his thigh and a nip to your neck, making you shudder but follow through with his command. As you grind back against his thigh you take a note of his cock stirring, resting heavy and hard between your bare ass. You push against it absentmindedly and find yourself pinned under him, your legs still held apart with his thigh that's now embarrassingly slick with your arousal. The visual of it makes you turn your head away, eyes closed and whimpering. Ghost doesn't like that. His massive paw of a hand grabs at your cheeks, your lips puckering involuntarily while he grunts at you to keep those eyes open for him. As he licks into your mouth, it suddenly dawns on you—this is your first kiss. You had already let this beast inside you before even sharing a kiss, and everything felt so out of order, that it made you want to scream and cry. Instead, you settle on throwing your hands around him and clawing at his back as he aligns himself with your needy, sore pussy and thrusts to the hilt without so much as a warning.

Even after yesterday, the burn of the stretch to accommodate his length makes fresh tears spring up into your eyes and roll down the apples of your cheeks. You swear you see his scarred lips twitch up into a savage smile at the sight of them before he licks them clean off your cheeks with a satisfied groan. In retaliation you dig your nails deeper into his sturdy back, hoping to break the skin and leave a mark that only ends up urging him to fuck you harder, faster. The sounds reverberating in the room drive you crazy; over them, you don't even notice a soft knock at the door but whoever it was scurries away registering the sound of the moans he wrings out of you with one particularly hard thrust that pushes so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat. Effortlessly he manhandles your legs on his shoulders to hit a different angle. As you struggle with the overwhelming feeling of fullness he leaves a deceptively soft kiss on your ankle before he folds you in half again and wrestles another mind-shattering orgasm out of you and succumbing to one himself, painting your insides with his spent. Pulling out, he doesn't bother moving, he simply rests his head on your chest between your breasts, squeezing the air out of your lungs with the sheer size of him. “Rest now, pet. Plenty of time for more o' that later.”

At that moment, you know there is no turning back; you've been taken, branded from the inside out. You wonder if this is truly so horrible, perhaps this nightmare of a man will drive away all the other nightmares plaguing your mind.

Or perhaps he is even more dreadful than your imagination could have ever conjured.

taglist: @a66-1 , @ghostlythots , @rttxcmt , @september-22-1998 , @fluffysmiko , @gyusbrownie , @bumblebeesfromvenus , @magicalforestcat , @nommingonfood , @tami-doodles , @fateisnotafactor , @m-a-l-a-c-z-a-r-n-a , @nicolebarnes , @msdevil333 , @lilpothoscuttings , @tealeaftallulah , @not-reptilian , @moonfloweronmars , @aliceinwonderland-5678 , @marshmelloe , @i-love-you-just-the-same, @lazyperfectioniste , @tragedyinwaves , @thisisforthebest97 , @talkingcorn , @hxnneydew , @resplendantrosewood , @telvannitea , @the-casual-act , @hello-lemons, @kiwicopia , @just-a-sewer-goblin

[paarksunghoon]

resignation (2)

SUMMARY: For the last six years, you’ve dedicated your career to ensuring Park Sunghoon never misses a day of work in his life. But you’re tired of endless days that seem to blend together, and seeing him living his fun, luxurious lifestyle makes you think about what else you might be missing out on. When Sunghoon finds your resignation letter on his desk, he does everything in his power to convince you to stay.

NOTES: still could not tell you a single thing about this plot but who knows!!!! perhaps I’ll make a whole serious out of it (??). will probably be smutty eventually.

WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: slightest bit of sexual tension.

SERIES PLAYLIST + SERIES MASTERLIST

masterlist

let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any future chapters :)

***

The party is already in full swing by the time the two of you arrive. Sunghoon beats his driver in opening the car door for you after insisting that you stay put for him to do so. It seems a bit much, especially since Sunghoon has never held the door open for you in this manner, but you’ve learned not to stop him from pursuing what he wants. You feel a bit awkward when he holds his arm out for you to grab as you attempt to exit the car nonchalantly. It’s not commonplace for your boss to assist you in such a manner. 

Your fingers drum against the leather of your bag as the two of you walk inside. For the first time in six years, you haven’t got a clue as to why Sunghoon needs you here. Being his “plus one” usually entails business negotiations or seeking out potential connections. He’s never asked you to accompany him for the hell of it. There’s always work to be done and Sunghoon isn’t above having you put your weeknights into your work agenda. 

The venue is glamorous. A large chandelier hangs from the ceiling, and the staff carry around trays of alcohol and expensive-looking appetizers. You decline a glass of champagne but accept a small savory bite with loads of caviar on top of it (you don’t want to guess how much was spent on this dish alone). Sunghoon, on the other hand, grabs two champagne flutes and holds one out to you just as you shove your food into your mouth. 

“I’m good,” you say through a mouthful. Sunghoon chuckles.

“Let loose. You’re gonna be gone in two months. You might as well enjoy the perks while you can.”

“Are you accepting that I want to quit?” 

“Absolutely not.” He pushes the glass towards you until your fingers curl around the long stem. “But I am trying to get you to have fun.” 

“I know how to have fun.”

“You’re always on work mode when we come to these things. You could learn to relax your shoulders and not talk business all the time.”

You roll your eyes. “That’s my job, Sir.”

“Sunghoon.”

“That’s my job, Sunghoon.” 

“Not tonight. Don’t think about work. Matter of fact, if anybody talks about anything work-related, direct them to me or give them my email.” 

You look at him curiously. “Since when do you care about how much fun I’m having to the point of burdening yourself with extra work?”

“Since my favorite assistant decided she wanted to quit.” 

You don’t respond. He’s naturally a forward person, but he’s never commented on the nature of your working relationship beyond praising you on a job well done when you’ve clearly earned it. Sunghoon believes in proving oneself without any handouts, especially since his nepotism granted him the work he does now. You know it was significantly easier for Sunghoon to work his way from an intern to managing partner because his family legacy is Park Inc., but all of his accomplishments are on him. It’s why he believes in giving everybody a fair shot and kicking those who don’t perform well to the curb, even if their family is considered “well known.” 

When it comes to your job and the work you’ve done for him, Sunghoon keeps his praise to a minimum. He is polite and doesn’t forget to thank you if you’ve completed a task for him, but he keeps his praise to himself until you do something that truly amazes him. You could probably count all of these stellar moments on one hand, and it took you years of working alongside Sunghoon to stop seeking his validation so much. When you focus on your work and not his praise, you seem to get more tasks done efficiently. But all you’ll ever be to Sunghoon is his assistant. Despite all of the work and knowledge you’ve acquired through your years of working at Park Inc., you doubt you’ll work your way up to become a managing partner like him. 

Lee Heeseung and Park Jongseong, two of Sunghoon’s business partners and closest friends, provide a welcomed distraction when they approach the two of you with champagne flutes of their own. They both look just as prim and polished as Sunghoon in their tailored suits and reflective black shoes. You wonder if their assistants are here tonight.

“Always good to see you,” Jongseong says with a quick hug when he sees you before greeting Sunghoon. 

“Didn’t realize you were coming.” Heeseung looks at your boss. “I thought Hana was accompanying you tonight?”

Sunghoon waves them off. “Nah. Asked my trusty assistant to come with me instead.” Heeseung looks at your hands.

“And you’re…drinking?”

“He told me it was fine,” you said, gesturing at Sunghoon. Heeseung smiles and steps forward to pull you into a short embrace as well, hands kept as a respectable distance while balancing his own drink. “Where’s Jake?” 

“Business trip to Brisbane. It’s doubling as a family vacation since he hasn’t been back to Australia since he started his career,” Jongseong explains. “He’ll be back in a week.” 

“I’m sorry,” Heeseung interrupts. “I’m stuck on the fact that you’re actually drinking and not pretending to so people don’t give you a hard time about it.”  

“I told her to let loose and not think about work too much.”

“If she doesn’t, who will?” Jongseong snorts. He turns at you. “Are you going to grace us with your presence on the dance floor, or is Sunghoon making you butter everyone up until they inevitably do what you say?” 

“She’s here because I needed a plus one and she’s here to have fun,” Sunghoon responds for you. Jongseong chuckles and stuffs his hands in his pocket.

“Well, God knows she needs a night off. You make her work too hard.” 

Sunghoon tuts. “I do no such thing.”

“He can’t be worse than Daon. No could ever be,” says Heeseung.

“I guess you’re right.” Heeseung glances between you and Sunghoon before speaking again.

“If she’s here to have a bit of fun, you won’t mind if I took her to the face floor, would you?” Something unreadable flashes across Sunghoon’s face. 

“No,” he says with his jaw fixed. Heeseung grins.

“Perfect. Shall we?” 

You give Sunghoon your champagne flute and don’t look back, enjoying the idea of entertaining your awful dance skills with somebody you’ve known for nearly as long as you’ve known Sunghoon. Heeseung is charming in all of the right ways and you can see why most of your colleagues harbor small crushes on him. He’s extremely charismatic and good at getting what he wants. It’s a quality you wished you could possess. 

Heeseung’s hand rests on the small of your back while the other gently holds your hand as he sways the two of you to the rhythm of the music. You’re not one for the theatrics of dancing the night away like Heeseung is, but it’s nice to forego your professional duties and scuff up your heels for a change. 

“You’re thinking too hard,” Heeseung says, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Sorry. I guess I’ve made a habit of being on the go when I come to these things.” 

Heeseung tuts. “Sunghoon’s pushing you to your limits, but I can see why you’re the only person he trusts to get things done.”

“I remember the days when he barely trusted me to get his coffee order right.”

“Well, you’ve come a long way since then.” 

Heeseung winks and places one hand on the middle of your back before you find him hovering above you. He doesn’t let you linger for much longer and pulls you back into his chest. The two of you have always had a friendly-yet-playful friendship, but something about him spontaneously asking you to dance and making you break your normal, party-going habits has you blushing. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“Sunghoon told me you’re quitting.” Your hand on his shoulder tightens for a moment. 

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to be thinking.” 

“You’re not the type of person who can just let things go.” 

“I hate that you know me well.” 

Heeseung winks again. “My assistants and I have learned to count on you more than we can count on Sunghoon. I’d like to believe I know you better than you think I do.” 

“Well…I’ve worked alongside him for so long that it’s making me wonder what else is out there for me, you know? Don’t get me wrong, I am so lucky to have been able to travel and learn alongside him, but it’s never because I want to. I don’t want to be a career assistant.” 

“What do you want to do instead?”

“I don’t know,” you frown. “I’ve spent so long cleaning up after him and catering to his needs that I’ve never spent enough time thinking about what I want to do with my life.”

“He seems choked up about it.” 

You scoff. “I handed him my resignation letter and he barely acknowledged it.”

“Jongseong told me he picked you up from your apartment.” 

“He accompanied his driver.”

Heeseung waves you off. “Same difference.” 

“And, well…he told me to stop calling him by his title and to start calling him by his name.” 

“Oh?”

“I know. It’s weird, isn’t it? I don’t think I could ever address him by ‘Sunghoon.’”

“You call me Heeseung, though.”

You swat his chest. “Yah. That’s because I don’t work for you and you threatened to get me fired if I treated you like a stuffy higher-up.” He grins at that.

“You’ll be missed, you know. I can tell Sunghoon’s starting to spiral about it. He doesn’t call me often to talk about himself, but he spent our entire meeting discussing his weekend golfing plans.” 

“He’ll function without me.”

“I don’t know if he can.” 

As it stands currently, your personal life barely exists. It’s hard to find time to do things by yourself when you’re constantly on call. Sunghoon is respectful of your personal time as much as any high power venture capitalist can be, but you often find yourself sitting with him during late night working hours and in the early morning when he asks for your presence. It’s not a terrible job, certainly not for the pay and how it used to give you a sense of purpose in life, but it’s starting to feel like the days and months are blurring together. You don’t think you could recall what day it is without looking at your calendar. 

Your working relationship with Sunghoon is near perfect. He can be a bit of a charmer when he wants to be and knows all the right ways to get you to say yes, but you can’t say you’ve had a horrible time working under him. Sunghoon is a fair boss who trusts you far more than you trust yourself. He’s given you incredible opportunities to learn and grow as a businessperson, and it’s far more than you can say for anybody else in that office. Sunghoon values his personal time, which leads him to valuing when you take time off (and, to be honest, is rarely ever). That is something you know you’ll struggle to find elsewhere. 

But this job has seen you work over the typical forty hours to the point where you lose yourself in it. You try to balance your time in and out of the office, but it’s hard to keep up a personal life when you care so deeply about your job. The projects you work on are important to you, as is contributing to businesses that have since become successful thanks to you and Sunghoon. It gives you a sense of fulfillment to know you can be part of the reason why a local eatery becomes a celebrated chain restaurant, or why a crowdfunded product becomes internet famous for all the right reasons. It’s your job and it’s your life, but that’s what you’re afraid of.

Sunghoon will never have to wonder what it’s like to worry about paying rent or utilities because his family comes from a long line of extremely successful venture capitalists. He could try his best to blow his fortune and wouldn’t come close to spending a fraction of it. You, on the other hand, budget wisely on your salary in order to be able to afford and maintain the lifestyle you have. Every cent is accounted for and splurging on things is a treat every once in a while, aside from the budget Sunghoon gives you when you travel with him. But even then, you’d consider yourself someone who doesn’t overdo it for the principle of it all.

Aside from having little to no hobbies that require stepping out of your apartment, you don’t meet people. You don’t hang out with anybody regularly enough to build connections or to explore romantic relationships. The people you see on a weekly basis are your elderly neighbors who praise you for being quiet during the nighttime, your colleagues at Park Inc., and Sunghoon. There is no time to settle down. While Sunghoon gets his fair share of taking women home and indulging in sex and dating, you find that you’re the one who he calls when he can’t seem to get rid of people who refuse to leave. The thought of explaining this situation to your date, and having them be okay with being a glorified babysitter, seems a bit far fetched.

You tell yourself that dating shouldn’t be a big deal. It isn’t, right? Not when you’ve learned to become independent and confident in the face of venture capitalist sharks that will eat you for breakfast should you falter. The thick skin you’ve managed to build feels more like protective armor than anything else. People who know you would say they’ve seen an immense amount of growth in how you carry yourself, and while you credit it to working in the environment you do, most of it is because you refuse to let yourself falter, even if for a moment. 

Dating hasn't been on your mind for the past few years. You were young, and you still are, but the years after graduating university were dedicated to figuring out where you belonged. This job at Park Inc. was a great blessing. Having to focus on getting your job done and learning about the business took up more time than you anticipated, so there was no time to think about relationships. You were very much in the mindset of pursuing a career before indulging in boys. Perhaps it’s your hyper independence that led you to push any yearning for romance aside. But it’s bubbling to the surface like a vengeance in the present day. 

And if you’re being honest, you feel incredibly silly. It feels stupid to watch movies or read books and wish you could experience the kind of love that leaves you breathless. You’ve never been one for the theatrics, but what if you were? What if you were the type to meet a guy and fall for him instantly? What would you be like if you were the type of person people naturally gravitated towards? If you were any different, would guys come up to you out of the blue and entertain you until one of you ultimately decided it isn’t worth it? 

You don’t have the time to consider these things beyond daydreams. Your days are filled with project meetings, phone calls, scheduling, and anything else Sunghoon requires of you. It’s gotten to the point where you’re considering asking him to get a second assistant to help you with the tasks you’re drowning in. 

You don’t have the luxury of meeting incredibly handsome men who want everything to do with you as Sunghoon does. People fall at his feet when he looks at them. With his warm brown eyes and devilish smile, he barely has to lift a finger to get people to fall to their knees. You’ve seen it one too many times, whether it be women who lunge at the chance to go home with him or potential clients who want his money for their business. Sunghoon knows how to sweet talk and he knows how to get what he wants without making the other person realize they’re submitting to his will. His charisma is admirable. You wish you could be a little more like that. 

Thinking about how little action you get compared to Sunghoon feels like you’re losing your mind, too. You’ve had shitty dates and failed hookups in the past that leave you wondering if trying is worth it. It doesn’t seem like that’s the type of lifestyle for you, and while you’re not necessarily looking to settle down with the next person you meet, you desperately wish you could meet somebody who doesn’t disappoint you by the time the check arrives. It’s almost aggravating when Sunghoon walks into the office with a post-sex glow to him. It’s irritating when he calls you to take women out of his house and see him in all of his glory (shirtless only—you’re crossing so many boundaries just by helping Sunghoon in this matter but damn, his abs are chiseled by the gods). 

You’d have to be completely blind to think Sunghoon isn’t attractive. Meeting him for the first time felt like you were meeting the child of Aphrodite. His hair naturally fell into all the right places and his suit was tailored to the nines. He was commanding yet soft, and his baritone voice felt like pure velvet the first time you heard him speak. Your knees nearly buckled when he looked at you and you imagine that’s what every woman must feel like when he gives them his attention. You know far too well just how charming and handsome Sunghoon is, and you’ve learned to push these thoughts and feelings to the very back corner of your mind. 

Sunghoon always is, and always will be, off limits. He’s your boss, for starters. In the early days of your career, you’d find yourself fantasizing about him and his otherworldly looks when desperate times called and when bad dates left you wondering what life would be like if you weren’t Sunghoon’s assistant, but someone he took home. It always made you feel guilty and shameful, especially when you’d walk into his office the next day and make any sort of eye contact with him. That feeling ate at you alive to the point where you had to force yourself to view this as a professional, working relationship only. Besides, there was no chance Sunghoon would ever jeopardize himself like that. He takes work too seriously to ever mix it in with his private life. 

Eventually, you learned to tune those feelings out and view him like your superior. Sunghoon’s always been a bit friendly with you, especially as your years of working together grew. You know so much about his family, where he lives, his goals and aspirations, to the point where you think you know more about him than you know about yourself. You’ve seen him stress over big projects and celebrate incredible milestones. You’ve been with him every step of the way for the past six years, and leaving his side is the scariest thing you’ve done in your life thus far. 

You know he’ll be just fine. Sunghoon might have to get to know somebody all over again and get used to working a different dynamic, but it’s not as if you’re irreplaceable. That thought tends to keep you up at night every once in a while. Not a single person has ever made you feel like you’re worth fighting for and nobody has ever gone out of their way to show you how much they value you. It comes easily to Sunghoon to the point where you’d be surprised if people didn’t want anything to do with him. 

Those kinds of things don’t happen for you very easily. Men don’t fall to their knees when they see you and they certainly don’t strike up a conversation with the hopes of scoring your number. You can count on your hand the number of times people have hit on you, and while it’s not a measure of who you are as a person, it does make you feel shitty about yourself when you start to compare your love life with your boss’s. 

So you find yourself here, standing in between Heeseung’s arm, feeling like a shy school girl who got asked to prom for the first time. It’s ridiculous. You’ve known him for nearly as long as you’ve known Sunghoon, and Heeseung has always been friendly in a way a colleague should. He never oversteps nor makes you uncomfortable, but the feeling of his hand on your back makes your mind drift to a scenario in which you’re dancing with the love of your life. It makes you feel small. 

“Mind if I cut in?” 

As if on cue, Sunghoon’s voice pierces through your wandering thoughts. 

“After this song, Hoon. I’m having quality time with your assistant.”

The song ends just as Heeseung is done speaking. It feels like the universe might as well be laughing at you.

“Would you look at that? The song just ended.” Heeseung steps away and winks at you before looking at Sunghoon.

“She’s all yours.” 

Sunghoon resumes Heeseung’s position and every fantasy you’ve had of him from the early days of your career suddenly makes their way to the forefront of your mind. No matter how much you try to push them back in their place, these desires keep coming up like a canon of confetti at the end of a concert. Your heart rate picks up slightly and you hope your hands don’t feel as clammy as you think they are.

“Having fun?” 

“I’d hardly count coming to a stuffy event as fun, but I’m not miserable.” 

Sunghoon tilts his head. “You don’t like schmoozing with men who only care about money?” The two of you share a laugh. It’s so easy to let your guard down with him.

“Ha-ha. No, Sunghoon, I don’t typically imagine this as my ideal way of having fun.”

“No?” He pulls you closer to his chest as he brings the two of you deeper into the dance floor. It makes you help in surprise and Sunghoon doesn’t bother hiding his pleasure when he grins. “What do you like to do for fun, hm?”

“I…I don’t know.” 

Sunghoon clicks his tongue. “It can’t be all work and no play, you know. That makes Jack a dull boy, or however the saying goes.” You roll your eyes.

“I’m too busy taking care of you, remember?” 

“Ah, yes, and what a wonderful job you’ve done. Come on. Tell me something you like to do when you’re not with me.”

“I like to read, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“I like to read. Better?” 

“Much. What kind of books?”

“Depends on my mood. Sometimes I like reading fiction, sometimes nonfiction. I like thrillers a lot.”

“You’re one of those types who likes to see if you can unravel the plot before you get to the end, aren’t you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Knew it.” He squeezes your hand placed in his. “Anything else besides reading?”

“I like traveling. I don’t do it much unless you request I go somewhere with you. But I like exploring places by myself without the pretense of work.” 

Sunghoon frowns. “You don’t travel much?” 

“No, not with the work I have to do.” You let out a small laugh. “I try not to be too jealous when you take time off work to go to Europe or America.” 

Sunghoon nods once and spins the both of you as the song’s tempo picks up. “You’ll have more time to travel when you leave me, no?” 

“Mhm.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Osaka sounds nice. I’ve only ever been to Tokyo for a few business meetings, but we’ve never had time to go elsewhere. New York sounds like a dream. Maybe I’ll visit São Paulo or Rome if I’m lucky.” 

“That’s quite the bucket list.” 

“I’m an ambitious woman.” He squeezes your waist. 

“Don’t I know it.” 

“You know, this is probably the longest I’ve talked about myself with you.” 

“Is it?”

“Yeah, I think so. It’s usually business talk first thing in the morning, and then whatever you’ve been up to.”

“I don’t ask you what you do on the weekends?”

“Sometimes. Mondays are usually our busiest days, though.” 

He frowns. “I should’ve paid more attention. Maybe that’ll convince you to stay.” 

“You’re funny.” 

The song ends and Sunghoon doesn’t pull away like you think he will. He’s not somebody who generally enjoys spending time with his colleagues more than he has to, and that includes you. Part of you wonders if some innate guilt keeps him dancing with you, but you try not to think about the negative possibilities when you’re with him. 

“What are you going to do when you’re free?” Sunghoon asks as the next song begins. “Are you booking a plane ticket to New York or Osaka?” 

“I don’t know, honestly, but maybe I should. Who knows, I could find the love of my life on vacation and move to a brand new city if it works out.”

“Love of your life, huh?”

You shrug. “Dunno. I’ve been thinking about, err, my love life, or lack thereof, for the past few weeks. I don’t have time to date around when I’m at your beck and call. God, this is weird, isn’t it?”

“What is? Talking about your love life? Or, how did you say it, ‘lack thereof’?” 

“If I’m being honest? Yeah. I’ve seen you hook up with so many women in the years I’ve known you but that’s what assistants are for, right? Helping you out of situations without asking any questions?” 

“I suppose you’re right. You don’t keep to shy away from things all the time with me, though,” he reassures. “We’ve known each other for half a decade. I think that earns you the right to talk about yourself whenever you feel like it.” 

“Seems like I'm crossing a boundary.” 

“I’m telling you tonight that you aren’t. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about a boyfriend before.” 

“Nope.” You tilt your head and keep your lips in a thin line when you smile. “Got my hands full with you.” 

“Some would say you’re in a lucky position.” 

He laughs when you roll your eyes. When you try to step away and take yourself out of Sunghoon’s grasp, he immediately pulls you back into him. It catches you off guard and you’re suddenly aware that he’s looking at you with those commanding brown eyes peeking through his bangs. It makes your breath falter for a moment. 

“I appreciate you more than you know. I hope you know that.” His baritone voice nearly makes you knees buckle.

“Thank you for saying that.” 

“I mean it. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

You look away. “I’m sure you could find someone else who’d be a better fit than me.” 

“Don’t downplay yourself. You’re a fantastic assistant who’s kept my head on my shoulders for the past six years.” 

“Sunghoon…” 

“Say it. Say ‘I’m a great assistant.’” 

“I’m a great assistant.” He grins. 

“Good girl.” 

Yeah. You must be losing it if hearing your boss say that makes you feel a little worked up. Those feelings from when you first met rise to the surface and you struggle to push them down. It doesn’t help that Sunghoon looks like a Greek God among mortals with his chiseled jawline and impeccable skin. You stare at him far too long to realize how long his eyelashes are and how he looks quite handsome when he’s looking at you like he’d do anything to make you change your mind about quitting your job.

Goodness, you think. I’m screwed.    

***

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[hannieoftheyear]

LUCKY STRIKE [C.VN]

Vernon would never let anything happen to you. But when the time comes, and he's standing at your doorstep, flowers in one hand, and bloody cuts in the other, it's your turn to take care of him for once.

pairing: mafia!vernon x fem!reader

word count: 4,5k of lazy and messy sex for you

genre/au: mafia au, established relationship, smut with the barest plot, a bit of fluff.

content warnings: vernon is terribly down bad, light mafia themes, implied violent encounters, blood, bruises, cuts, minor injuries, reader takes care of his injuries and he gets horny, this is corny, you were warned!! | explicit smut: couch sex, switch!vernon, switch!reader, sucking fingers, they both have a thing for hands and fingers, biting, spit kink, spit as lube, handjob, unprotected sex (don't be stupid pls), cumming inside, nicknames: baby (both).

♥︎ thank you to everyone that tolerated me sending clips of vernon on the thunder stages for days ♡ this is for you

🎧: shining star (vernon solo) — seventeen

THIS FIC IS FOR +18 READERS ONLY. I can't control what people read, but I can control who interacts with my blog. MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED

check out my main masterlist ♡

note: i'm a sucker for lazy couch sex with vernon and i won't apologize for it!! i hope you enjoy this silly thing ♥︎

this was, of course, heavily inspired by all the 'happy burstday' concept photos and stages

mafia prompt taken from here ♥︎ dividers here

"Being adopted into the local mafia has its pros and cons."

Pros: You can safely do your 2 am. grocery shopping at the one superstore that's open all night without fearing for your life. Those scary looking men, the ones you'd normally cross the street to avoid, treat you like their little sister. All except for the cutest one of them all.

The gloomy night accompanies the swift movements of the crochet needle between your fingers, tangling the strings of light blue and red knitting wool you bought days ago in a whim. In the search for a new hobby, your algorithm acted out again, and you ended up on the granny activities side, peaking your interest enough to sit on your uncomfortable couch for hours trying to make a usable piece of clothing.

Normally, on a weekend night, the cold wind would be welcomed by your barely covered skin, walking hand in hand with the only guy your self proclaimed body guards allowed you to be in close proximity to. But something, or rather, someone, told you to stay home for the night.

Another pro of being close with the bad guys: they help you avoid confrontations with threatening rival gangs. You're left blissfully out of the mess, but, as you're still able to hear the rounds of loud noises on the streets around the neighborhood, you're also not unaware of the bruises you see covering the guys' arms and faces the next day.

Your forehead hurts from all the frowning you've been doing for the past hour, trying to figure out the pattern you should be following and restarting every few rows.

A soft, unsure knock takes your concentration away, but it quickly puts a smile on your face as you realize who's the only person that'd show up at this hour at your door. The amateur crochet project is left forgotten on the coffee table, the metal needle crinkling against the glass as you get up from the couch.

But, whatever excitement you had, it drops completely as soon as the doorknob turns under your hold, and the door opens to reveal who you were expecting.

Vernon stands at the entrance, with his side smile painting his face as if everything was okay. You instantly know it's not. His lower lip is swollen red, probably from a punch, the neck line of his t-shirt is stretched far more than normal, with a tear visible on the side.

Cons of being adopted by the local mafia: your big bad mafia boyfriend constantly gets hurt on the job.

With one hand busy holding a bouquet of your favorite yellow flowers, he wraps the other one around your waist when you don't move, frozen analyzing his state. "Not happy to see me?"

Vernon's teasing smile so close to you, mixed with his breath fanning your face as he leans in to give you a peck, is intoxicating. His bruised lips are soft against yours, taking seconds longer to feel you on him than normal. One would never guess he's hurt from the way he's pushing himself against you.

"Baby, what happened?" Your hand reaches for his behind your back, the cuts on his knuckles harsh under the pads of your fingers.

He sighs against your parted lips, chuckling lightly before taking a step back and letting himself in into your apartment. "You should see the other guys."

"Multiple?" Your wide eyes follow him as he searches for a vase to put the flowers he brought.

It's natural for him to have his way around your home. After all, he's the only one that you, or your neighborly mafia, ever allowed in. It's your sacred place, safe from the dangerous outside world, the only place where you can be truly calm, be with him with no fears.

While he occupies himself with his gift, you take the chance to escape to your bathroom, wash the dried blood from your hands, and find your first aid kit. The one you've never had to use before.

You were always the one who he took care of, who he protected, made sure you were intact. After so many times he was there for you, it's your turn to take care of him and heal his wounds the best you can.

"Remember I told you to stay in today?" His gaze is trained on you as you sink down next to him. The click of the aid kit opening breaks the silence as he waits for your answer.

You only nod, half hearing him, half focusing on grabbing what you need to disinfect the cuts in his hand. His hand that places itself on your thigh to draw your attention.

"We're okay—I'm okay," his voice is soft, knowing you worry every time he goes out to parts of the town they don't have under their control, "it was just a small payback."

"Baby, you're bleeding," Vernon hisses as you clean the wounds around his knuckles with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball, "who did you go with?"

"Mingyu and Wonwoo," your insides burn, feeling his stare, boring holes on the side of your face, "they took on the bigger guys." Vernon jokes.

You shouldn't sigh in relief hearing that, but you do so anyway.

It's a regular occurrence for the guys to tease him for his objectively smaller build, but he counters it with a perfectly learned strategy. He knows how to fight, knows the places that hurt the most being punched, where to kick, poke, slap to make his opponent lose their balance, and ultimately, the fight.

"Let's hope these people don't come back after you."

"Believe me, they won't." He smirks, charging his words with smugness.

You wrap the little bandage you had saved around his hand with care. Not too loose, not to tight. You feel his eyes on you as you leave the aid kit on the table, right besides the mess of knitting wool you alredy forgot was there.

"I have the best nurse ever." Vernon wastes no time, lifting your hips with his, now working, hands, and sits you on his lap, both your legs fitting naturally at his sides as he realizes you're only wearing panties under your t-shirt. "I should come here hurt more often."

"Then you'll have to replace the stuff I use on you!" Looking slightly down to connect your eyes with his, your teasing tone vanishes at the soft glimmer in his eyes. "Please, just… be careful next time."

The side of his face feels warm against the palm of your hand, and he leans into your touch, feeling your care even through the smallest, most mundane touches.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have shown up like this." His doe eyes turn glassy, searching for any anger indicators on your expression, but only finding worry. "I just wanted to see you."

You could never get mad at him. Not when you got to know him well aware of what his life was like. Not when he pursued you by showing you he can still be a gentleman despite his shady life. Not when he never gave you any reason not to trust him.

"I wanted to see you too," you reveal as if you didn't constantly wait for him. Sitting on this very couch every night, longing for that knock on the door you always know it's him. "I don't mind taking care of you."

"I should be the one doing that." Vernon's hands fix their grip on your hips, reminding you that they're still there, holding you close to him.

"Well, I'm not the one getting into fights with 6 feet tall buff guys on the daily."

He chuckles, full of endearment, and your stomach tightens. If you could rank every sound you ever heard, Vernon's kinds of laughs and giggles would all be at the top, not a very close race with anything else. It's a distinguishable sound you never want to forget.

Your hand goes down the side of Vernon's neck, his pulse accelerating under your touch as you check to see if he's real, if he's really sitting on your couch with you straddling him.

His focus get lost on your touch now going down the side of his arm, and soon finds your hand with his. He interlocks his fingers with yours as soon as he gets a hold of it, directing your hand to his mouth and leaving a gentle but teasing kiss on the back of it.

"Vernon," you reprimand, but don't stop him as he places peck after peck everywhere on your hand, each triggering a wave of different feelings down your nervous system. He's uncontrollable and always finds the way to get you in the mood with him.

"You look so pretty over me, all worried." His hot breath tickles your fingers that were just taking care of him.

Your thumb swipes gently over his busted lip, raw from his habit of gnawing at them with his teeth and from the fight you're nursing him from. He purses his lips, teasing your awaiting skin, goosebumps waking up all over your body at the anticipation.

"You can't seriously be turned on by this," you snicker to try and hide the very real reactions he's eliciting from you.

His eyes snap back to you at your words, as if a challenge was set.

So quick you barely have time to register it, the hand at your hip travels to your lower back and Vernon's sliding you across his lap, showing off his strength to get you closer to his torso until you're completely against him.

Every part of you is against him. His right hand on your back, holding you electrically close to his growing hard, pulsing against your core. Your hand's held hostage by his left hand just above where your chest flushes against his.

"You have no idea how crazy I am for you." Every word he says reverberates through his chest and into yours.

Gasping is your only answer. You don't trust your ability to apeak properly in your current state of increasing bodily heat.

"When I wake up and you're not next to me," he continues, "my first thought is always to come looking for you." His fingers wander inside the big t-shirt you're wearing, one you stole from him after your first night together.

"Nothing stops you from staying the night here." Your voice draws the smirk back on his face.

"I'd stay here every night if it didn't mean putting you in danger." Longing bleeds through his words, true and hurt.

"But you'd be here to protect me." You're not naive. You know what he means. But that doesn't stop you from wanting to be close to him every second of every day.

Vernon nods in acknowledgment, a silent agreement between the two of you. It's dangerous. Everything about your relationship is risky. But even if he's willing to put himself at risk for the chance of seeing you, he'd never put you in danger. He'd never take that chance.

His lips kissing your hand again catch your attention, every fiber of your body now focused on his next move. Your fingers, cold against the warmness spreading across his face, seem to be the only thing on Vernon's mind.

When he wraps his mouth around your index finger, gently sucking on it with a new admiration, fire expands from your insides and out, taking everything with it, filling you with a new, unexpected want.

"Vern—" Your breath halts at the mention of his name, fueling his need as he dives in further, playing with his tongue around your finger like it was his new favorite toy.

You've never felt anything like this. A hot, sizzling arousal rushing through your veins at the sight of your boyfriend worshiping the fingers that were just nursing him.

A choked up moan escapes you as he sucks another finger in his mouth. Your index and middle finger are now coated in his spit, making a messy, wet toy out of your hand.

The couch moves just slightly as you push yourself against him at every swirl of his tongue, feeling his length hardening with every uncontrolled grind of your hips against his.

Vernon's other hand travels all over your torso, finding you're wearing no bra under the shirt that was once his. He loves making a moaning mess of you, mixing the arousal from sucking on your fingers with the touch you've been craving on your chest.

Everywhere. He's everywhere. His thighs under yours, his hard pressing against your barely covered core, his hand feeling your chest up as your fingers scrape the sides of his mouth.

Every second it passes, you search for more of him, pressing against his chest until he has trouble fondling your breasts.

He pulls your fingers out of his mouth slowly, a string of saliva connecting them with his lower lips stretching until it breaks, undoing the trance you were in while watching Vernon have his way.

"I should be taking care of you," your voice breaks into a whisper, your boyfriend’s dark stare punching away any thought you had.

"Having you on top of me is all I need," your wet fingers trace his jaw as he speaks, and he smirks at the sounds you make when he flicks one of your nipples with his thumb, "making you moan my name when I've barely touched you."

His eyes train on your parted lips, exhaling heavily as he plays with your nipples exactly how he knows you like it. You can only fist the stretched neckline of his t-shirt, making it worse but making it yours.

Your other hand finds the back of his head, his growing buzz-cut threading between your fingers.

"Have I told you I love your hair?" How you find it in you to speak is beyond your knowledge, but he chuckles at your nonsense, and the fire burning at the pit of your stomach spreads down your thighs and soaks your underwear further. "I love it so much."

Vernon's hard groin twitches under the needy grinding of your hips, his throat swallowing with trouble as you break down his facade little by little.

"Let me," you know he won't take his hands off of you willingly. You don't really want him to stop either, but you're focusing on him tonight.

He groans as you push yourself off him, quickly finding the zipper of his jeans. "Baby…" his words trail off seeing you kneeling on the floor against him.

Trying to slip his jeans and boxers down, he gives in and lifts his body to help you. He'd never deny you of anything you want.

You don't restrain yourself, your hands finding the flesh of his thighs and traveling up and up until you're barely touching where he most wants to.

But a hand sneaks under your jaw, tilting it up until you're connecting eyes with Vernon again. "Don't," you barely whisper, a plea for him to let you make him feel good.

"Want you on top," he doesn't ask, doesn't order you, only outers his wish, with his eyebrows quirking in the way that always has you melting for him, "I'd feel much, much better."

You snort with an endearing smile, "I thought you were fine." Even after your teasing remainder, you oblige what he wants.

"Every time you get off of me, I start feeling sick," he coughs a few times to get his point across, "my body needs you to feel well.

Vernon's always been able to make you laugh, even when you're on the brink of tearing all his clothes off. "Then we better listen!"

His bare legs find themselves under your weight again, the skin to skin contact igniting every connecting point of your bodies. You tug at the ends of his damaged t-shirt until he gets the hint you want it off.

Vernon groans as the dampness of your panties rubs against his length, gripping your hips to flush you against him harder, not wanting to wait any longer to feel you all over him. You waste no time, holding his face between your hands and closing the electrifying distance between you.

A moan fights out of him a soon as your lips take his, molding together perfectly, as if they were meant to be connected forever. You can feel where his lower lip is hurt, swiping your tongue over the bruise as he moans on your mouth again.

Your hand caresses the side of his face, not letting his lips go as the other travels down his heaving chest. His muscles tense under the teasing touch of your fingers, nails raking down his skin.

Another moan coming from him is exactly what you need as you sneak your hand between your bodies, wrapping it around his cock that craves your touch.

He chases your lips as you lean back, revealing the state he's in, all because of you. His lips glisten with the mix of yours and his spit, parted and calling for you again as he catches his breath.

The changing shine in your eyes alerts him that you're planning something, an idea planted by the sight before you.

You swirl your tongue in your mouth, gathering as much spit as you can before locking eyes with him and letting it drop out of your lips, falling in a glob until it sits at the tip of his hardness.

Vernon's eyes darken at every one of your moves, his gaze entranced on your lips. Lips that were spilling all kinds of worried words minutes ago, and now are coating his cock with saliva so your hand can glide up and down at your desired pace.

"God, baby," your hand squeezes around him, spreading the mix of spit and precum so slowly on his girth that he's having trouble breathing, "you're so good to me."

The back of the couch holds his head as he leans back with another groan. His neck stretched out, glistening with sweat, calls to you. And who are you not to answer?

Your core traps his erection against your hand as you lean in, leaving wet kisses on your boyfriend's throat, feeling his every sound vibrating against your lips. He mumbles praises into the air, letting his hands wander across your back and squeezing your ass to press your further to him.

The wet fabric of your panties sticks to your folds in the shape of his length, everything pushing your cores together harder and harder. You let the swift rhythm of your hand on his cock and you grinding your covered clit against him take you to another world.

"Feel better?" Your lips graze the sensitive skin on his neck as you half ask half gasp.

Vernon's automatic response is to tighten his hold on your ass, grinding your hips against his with more force, the friction between your cores breathtaking. "I could," he teases.

"Greedy," your hot breath hits under his earlobe, and even you can feel the shiver going down Vernon's body.

His cock twitches as you slow down the pace of you hand. The combining feel of your folds and your hand stroking him almost make Vernon go crazy.

"You feel so good, baby," his eyes close in concentration, every touch of yours too much for him, "can't wait to be inside you."

In the midst of his senseless words and your desperate touches, Vernon finds the way to sneak a hand under you. Between his legs, his digits find the dampness growing at your core. "So wet already, for me."

Another hand grabs a fistful of your hair, detaching your mouth from licking your way up his jaw. He forces you to look at him, eyes full of desire, waiting for your answer.

"Yes—all for you-u," your words break in a moan as two fingers sneak under your panties, collecting your arousal and triggering another wave.

"Good." It is all for him. All because of him. The only one who can have you like this.

Smirking, his eyes lock in with yours, full of fire as his hand appears in your field of view. You don't stop looking into his eyes, the mischievous glint on them keeping you there, all while he sucks your juices off his fingers.

It takes all your strength to get up from the couch again, with only one objective in mind.

Your boyfriend gawks as if you were putting on a show only for him, slipping down his favorite panties, now stained with an unholy amount of juices. He stares with his mouth agape, but he's not patient. As soon as the fabric's off, he's grabbing your big t-shirt and pulling you towards him again.

Lips crash with lust and desperation, messily craving more and more. His teeth nibble at your lower lip, a matching bruise waiting to appear, but you don't care. You moan in his mouth, tangling your fingers with the short hair growing at the back of his head.

His thigh becomes a mess of your arousal, careless about your position as you let Vernon have his way into your mouth. Your tongues dance around the other, slowly melting into each other.

"Spit," you chase his lips as he separates to demand. Seeing his non-injured hand under your jaw, you quickly realize what he's doing.

Your living room's filled with gasping sounds and hot breaths, time stopping as your eyes lock. Vernon's eyes are on you as you let your spit drop into his hand.

You hover over his groin, dripping into his hand as he lowers it down between your cores. The tip of his cock grazes your entrance as he pumps his hard with his spit covered hand, the wet sounds reaching your ears.

Sinking down on your boyfriend's lap, the head of his cock enters you just right, your walls welcoming to mold into his shape.

Your lips stop working as you're filled to the brim, sitting on Vernon's thighs and gasping into his mouth trying to get used to the unprepared stretch.

As you're draped over his torso, he easily finds his way down your neck.

"Relax, baby," he says against the skin of your neck.

Every spot he knows you like, he kisses, whispering encouraging praise that gives you chills. Under your ear, along your jaw, over your pulse point, his lips press and suck at your skin, feeling how you warm up around him.

When he shifts his position slightly, his length pushes inside you just a bit more, your walls clamp against him, sucking him further inside in a whine, "That's it."

His husky voice goes through your ear and down to your core, and you swivel your hips up just to elicit another sound from him.

Vernon's hands find themselves gripping your hips again, helping you as you start a lazy pace on his lap. Your teeth sink down on the flesh between his shoulder and his neck, and he moans in your ear at the sensation.

"You'll have to take care of that one too," his breath tickles down your ear, and the vibrations of your chuckle almost make you lose your focus on him.

You kiss on the dent shaped like your teeth, "like you don't love it."

He hums a broken moan, the combination of everything you're giving him finally working like you intended.

Your walls tighten around him just as your fingers find his scalp, short nails raking between his growing buzz-cut trying to have him losing his mind under you.

It's not long before his hips join the fun, thrusting up to meet your pace and making you lose your breath. You feel him up to your throat, every place inside you marked with his name.

Vernon's hands roam all over your torso, indecisive, keeping you close but in the search for his favorite places to grope and touch. Your body's on the verge of giving out, and he knows it.

When he wraps his arms around your back and leans back against the couch, flushing your chest completely against his, you both lose it.

You're not in control anymore, if you ever were. Your knees barely stay at his sides as he thrusts up incessantly, the sounds of your ass slapping against the flesh of his thighs echoing around your living room.

But his groaning in your ear, his rambling words about how good you are for him, are only for you to hear.

Intercalating between lazy and desperate, no matter the time or the place, Vernon always finds that spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

So quickly, it'd be embarrassing if it was anyone else, your body starts quivering, every one of your senses losing focus as your insides get closer and closer to snapping.

"I'm c-close," you manage to form a coherent string of words in between a few merciless thrusts.

"I can feel it—" a breathless whine mixes up between his words, "cum around me, baby." He's as desperate as you.

With everything combined, Vernon's noises on your ear, his arms tight around you, and every spot inside you being abused at once, the world becomes a blur of fire and white light as your orgasm rips through you.

Your body shakes on top of him as Vernon chases his own orgasm, stretching yours for as long as his cock grinds inside you with a purpose. But he's a weak man when it comes to you, and with the way your walls clamp hard around him, making him work for every thrust, it's not long before he's lost too.

You feel the ropes of cum coating your walls, his length twitching as you take it all. All of him inside you as if you were one.

Silence, deep breaths and the smell of sex fill the room as your bodies take in everything you just did.

Only when Vernon's lips kiss along your shoulder, you realize he's still inside you, and you shouldn't rest.

"I have the best nurse ever," Vernon chuckles along his words as you get up from his lap to find your discarded panties.

Everything is still the same. His clothes disregarded on the floor, the flowers sitting on a vase you haven't seen since you moved in.

You turn around to find him putting on his boxers, his eyes a promise that he's not done with you yet, "I don't think a good nurse would recommend this type of cardio after a fight."

"Then I don't trust them."

Chuckling again, and knowing he'll join you later in the shower, you fall between his arms again, laying together on the couch like you've done so many times before.

Now is your turn to look up at him, the fire in his eyes not gone, but now overpowered by endearment.

You don't want to. You really don't want to. But your eyes close with tiredness, and the rhythm of Vernon's breathing is so serene that you fall asleep in his arms.

There, in your couch, everything around you forgotten and replaced by him.

note: thank you so much for reading! pls share your thoughts I'd love to read them ♥︎

[i-love-ptv]

Playing Dangerous ཐི♡̵̼͓̥͒̾͘ཋྀ

Pairing: Police Officer!Boyfriend!Rafe Cameron x Girlfriend!Reader

You get pulled over by the police, but the officer just so happens to be your boyfriend. Will he let you off with just a warning? Part.2!

Wc: 1,822

SMUT (nothing crazy, just a steaming hot blowjob ;)) + winks of fluff

Hi guys!!! Uhm sorry I didn’t get a whole bunch out during October, I had lots of shit going on I fear…So take this as an apology lol. Also I have a (late) halloween fic coming out soon so stay tuned ;)

Feedback is always appreciated! xx

You hear the sirens chirp, and you take a glance at the rear view mirror, that’s when you see the police car riding your tail. You sigh due to the fact that you’re the only car on this road, and begin to pull over.

Were you going over the speed limit? No, you couldn’t possibly be doing so, you always remained cautious on the road.

Your hands rest idly on the steering wheel as you listen to the sound of boots getting closer. Your window is down, making the chilled night air kiss your skin.

The air is filled with cologne that rings familiar; you see his arms resting inside your car window first, the tattoo of your name staring right back at you.

You’re met with none other than your boyfriend, Rafe. He ducks down so his bright crystal-colored eyes are leveled with yours.

“Awfully late to be driving around here, huh Peach?” Rafe teases you with a smirk.

“I was just finishing my errands, Ray. And you scared me! I thought I was actually in trouble!” You try to keep the scowl on your face, but the more you stare at him, the more your face cracks into a smile.

Rafe quirks a brow at you after he takes a few seconds to assess you. “Who said you’re not in trouble? You’re driving without your glasses on, baby.”

You roll your eyes, “You couldn’t have possibly known I wasn’t wearing my glasses when you were behind me,” you replied.

“And besides, you act like I can’t see without them at all.”

Rafe tuts at your comment, “Thought it's already been established that you gotta wear ‘em when you drive, you not following orders now?” His smirk grows all the wider as he takes in your smaller frame.

You bite your lip and gaze at him, “Oh, well everybody knows that I’m a good girl, officer.”

“Yeah? ‘Cause I don’t think a good girl would break the rules, hm?” Rafe’s face is inching towards yours, slowly leaning more and more into your car.

You pout, feigning innocence, “I wouldn’t do a thing like that, that’s for sure.” Your lips part, going to leave a steamy kiss to the officer’s rosy, yet somewhat chapped lips, but he pulls away slightly, leaving you gaping with glossy eyes.

“I dunno…Think you should step out for a second, sweetheart. Y’know, just to follow protocol.” He whispers hotly against your ear, making your panties dampen.

You quickly exit your car, and as soon as you close the door, Rafe’s pressing you into it.

“I think you deserve a ticket, Peaches, d’ya think so?” His expression darkens whilst he fondles your love-handles, your floral sundress from earlier being bunched up around your hips. You shake your head ‘no’, letting out a soft “uh-uh”.

Rafe’s eyes soften, similar to how you look; he mocks you, exaggerating his pout. “Well, what’re we gonna do with you then, huh precious?”

Your tongue darts out for his lips, your mouth encloses his, and there’s nothing sweet about this kiss. Your tongues battle heatedly, Rafe allows you to think that you’ve won, until he presses his prominent bulge against your stomach, making you gasp in surprise and delight.

Spit dribbles down your chin, his hand cradles your head, leaving no room for you to pull away. You moan and whimper against him, your nimble fingers glide down his chiseled body, and rest against his belt buckle.

Then, Rafe remembers that the two of you are still in fact, on the side of the road. He breaks the kiss, making you chase after him; the string of saliva breaking whilst you whimper for more.

“Mmm, I know baby. Tell you what, how about I have you atone in a different way, would you like that pretty?” His veiny hands raise, resting lightly against your shoulders as his thumbs rub against your throat.

You eagerly nod your head up and down, wanting nothing more than to get your hands on your man wearing his delicious uniform.

Rafe drags you to the passenger seat then dashes to the driver's seat, and he mentally, he thanks every god out there that he forgot to turn both his body-cam, and his dash-cam back on.

He leans the seat back and beckons you over with his index and middle finger. “C’mon Peaches, y’know what to do.” You reach over and begin to unbuckle his pants.

Your body digs somewhat uncomfortably into the center console, but you can’t seem to care— not when Rafe’s cock twitches in his boxers. Your mouth nearly waters at the sight.

You take him out, making him hiss and screw his eyes shut for a moment.

Your manicured finger brushes against his pink tip, rubbing circles as you leave soft, feathery kisses to the base of his dick.

Rafe grunts in frustration, growing impatient with your constant teasing. He grabs your hair roughly, angling your face just above his dick.

“Make sure you breathe through your nose f’me, Peach.”

Your head is pushed down; your lips wrap perfectly around his shaft as it goes deeper into your mouth. Your nose is pressed against Rafe’s hairy thigh, his cock kissing the back of your throat beautifully. You gag slightly at his length, making your boyfriend chuckle.

He pulls you off, then sends you right back down just as quick. You hollow your cheeks as your head continues to bob. Spit gathers around your mouth due to Rafe’s force. He uses his left hand to hold your hair, while his right rubs the back of your neck.

It’s something so soft, so sweet, while in such a dirty, sinful situation.

The wet sounds of your gagging and slurping is all Rafe can focus on. —That and how sexy you look with the blue and red lights reflecting off of your face. It’s a sight he wishes to preserve in his mind for the rest of eternity.

He fully removes you from his dick, allowing you to catch your breath. “Mhm, you got it baby,” he says through his panting.

He guides your head back down; you don’t even get a chance to wrap your hand around what doesn’t fit because he’s thrusting up into your mouth.

Tears pool into your eyes, but Rafe can hardly tell due to them nearly rolling to the back of your head.

You whimper around him, your angelic sounds and the squelching which permeated the car only encourage him.

“You’re my good girl though, right Peaches? You’re gonna take it real good f’me?” Rafe moans at the sensation of your tongue swirling around his cock.

You squeal around him, trying to shake your head ‘yes’ at him but Rafe continues to roll his hips up.

The car shifts when another comes speeding down the road, but he can’t seem to give a shit when the woman of his dreams is nearly sucking him off the bone.

Rafe’s head is tilted towards the roof, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows his spit. His chest heaves, his grip on the back of your neck tightening as he moans hopelessly.

“H-hah, that mouth was made f’me precious,” he grunts through his gritted teeth.

“You. Were. Made. For. Me.” His words are emphasized by his thrusts.

He switches hands, allowing his left to snatch up your hand, so his right can hold onto the open window.

His bucking grows erratic, his rhythm being lost, alongside his mind as he grows closer and closer to his climax. You can feel him twitching in your mouth, another sign of him almost finishing.

Rafe can no longer contain his moans, he’s borderline wailing at this point, his body is lifting off the seat, but you maintain your pace.

“Y-yes baby! That’s it! Make me cum, honey. Make me fucking cum.” He sounds almost pained, which fuels your burning desire.

Rafe’s been reduced to a whimpering mess now, despite his acts of dominance earlier, but neither of you mind. His moans go higher in pitch, then suddenly, you feel his warm load flood your mouth.

The salty taste makes you moan, making Rafe shiver, and his thighs twitch.

You release him with a ‘pop’, and you leave a sweet, yet seductive kiss to the head of his flushed cock.

His load mixed with your hot saliva drips down your chin, you take your index finger and scoop it into your mouth while holding Rafe’s deepend gaze.

You lock your lips with his, and he gasps at your attempt to literally, take his breath away.

He breaks away with a low grumble, and you giggle. You pull down the driver side’s visor and look at yourself in the mirror. Your hair is sticking up every which way, your mascara from earlier in the day now dries against your tear stained cheeks, and your lips are kiss bitten and puckered.

Rafe tucks himself away before you climb into his lap, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

“I think I atoned for my rule breaking quite well, don’t you, Officer Cameron?” You grin mischievously, pressing your nose against his.

Rafe only hums in response, he smiles at your antics and kisses you softly.

“I uh..I got a few things to take care of back at the station,” he mumbled.

“How about you go home and wait for me there, baby.”

You pout at this, while he exits the car with you still wrapped around him.

He sets you down once you reply, “Will you come home to me?” His expression softens.

He pecks all around your face, making it harder for you to keep up your sullen act.

“Of course, pretty girl,” Rafe whispers.

You cross your arms as he continues, “I’ll wrap up so quickly, babe. Then I can…” He trails off, before ducking down to your ear.

“Return the favor.” He nibbles at your ear, and you press your legs together.

“Mmm, okay. But hurry back..” You peer at him, fixing his wild hair strands. He kisses your wrist.

“Of course,” and with that, he firmly kisses your cheek before allowing you to step back into your car.

After you settle in—after he finished adjusting your seat back, you place your hands on the wheel and spare him a last glance.

“Can you do me a favor, baby?” He asks with a grin, but you can tell it’s far from sweet.

You hum, both in curiosity and excitement.

“Think you can hold onto these for me?” He places the item into your hand, and leans back to head to his car, but not without yet another kiss to your lips.

You lick your lips as you watch him walk back to his police cruiser.

You know he won’t leave until you do, so you eventually pull off.

The set of shining, silver handcuffs resting next to you, and an ever growing heat between your legs.

[bsturnzmtts]

Off limits p. 2 - Matt Sturniolo

Part 1 here

Pairing: older sisters bf!Matt x innocent!reader

Summary: You’ve always had a small crush on your sister’s boyfriend. But you never acted on it, not until this summer, after you found out some things that changed everything.

Warnings: long plot?, cheating (I don’t condone cheating this is all fiction), teasing, age gap (Matt is 22 reader 18), virgin!reader, oral, lowkey mean!sister, kissing, fingering, pet names, clit spanking, “just the tip”, outercourse sex, p in v, virginity loss, sneaking around, unprotected sex, etc…

You should regret it.

You really should.

He’s not just anyone…he’s your sister’s boyfriend. Completely off limits. The one person you were never supposed to want, let alone touch. But the way he looked at you… it’s burned into your memory. The softness in his eyes, the way his voice dropped when he said your name, the way his lips felt against yours, and the way his hands moved across your skin, all of it plays on a loop in your head as you lie awake in bed. You barely slept. Every time you closed your eyes, it came back. Not just what happened… but that you didn’t pull away.

You wake up to soft light spilling into your room. The events from last night swirl in your mind, making it hard to settle. Your throat feels dry, and your stomach twists nervously.

After a few deep breaths, you push yourself out of bed and quietly make your way downstairs, hoping a bit of normalcy will calm your racing thoughts.

As you reach the kitchen, you freeze at the doorway.

Matt and your sister are there, sitting close together at the table. Your sister’s hand rests gently on Matt’s arm, her tone unusually sweet as she says, “Hey, good morning! Look, we’re all good now.” She leans in and leaves a small kiss on Matt’s cheek.

Matt nods once, his face is serious, almost cold, and he quickly looks away. He doesn’t say a word, not meeting your sister��s gaze or yours.

You force a small smile, stepping fully into the room, though the air feels thick and hard to breathe. “Morning,” you mumble, reaching for a glass of water just to give yourself something to do. You can feel Matt’s eyes on you for a split second before he looks away again.

Your sister doesn’t seem to notice the tension. She’s all smiles, too cheerful. “I was thinking we could go to the lake later,” she says. “Take the boat out. It’ll be fun.”

You shake your head lightly. “I’m not really in the mood, you guys can go, I'll just stay here.”

Matt sets his coffee down. “Same. I’m not feeling it either.”

Your sister lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Ugh, you two are so boring,” she mutters with a half-laugh, trying to brush off the tension.

Matt doesn’t respond. You don’t either.

Whatever she thought this sweet morning act would fix… clearly didn’t.

Your sister rolls her eyes, crossing her arms. “Ugh, fine.” She scoffs. “Some of my friends are staying at a cabin nearby. I’ll go hang out with them, at least they actually want to spend time with me.”

She stands up and heads to her room to get ready.

The house suddenly feels emptier without her. The silence settles heavy around you, making everything feel colder, more tense.

Later, Matt finds you alone in the living room. He hesitates for a moment, then sits down next to you.

“Can we talk?” he asks quietly.

Before you can answer. Your sister walks in, eyes narrowing as she sees you two sitting close.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna come with us?” she asks Matt.

Matt's jaw tightens slightly at her question, his eyes flickering between you and your sister. "Nah, I'm actually not feeling great today," he says, his voice flat, maintaining his serious expression.

Your sister lingers, watching the space between you two. Her smile fades slightly. “Right…” The silence stretches. Her eyes narrow, just for a second. “Have fun doing nothing,” she says, voice clipped. Then she turns and disappears down the hall, her door slamming shut a second later.

The slam of her door leaves a hollow silence behind.

You and Matt just sit there. Neither of you says a word. The quiet stretches on, heavy and uncomfortable. You shift slightly in your seat, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve. Matt stares straight ahead, jaw tense, leg bouncing.

It’s awkward. So much happened last night.

You finally break the silence.

“So… everything’s good with you guys now?”

Your voice is soft, but the question hangs sharp in the air. You don’t look at him when you ask it. You can’t.

Matt doesn’t answer right away. His jaw is locked tight. He stares straight ahead, like he’s trying to find the right words, or maybe just trying not to say the wrong ones.

Finally, he exhales, slow and shaky.

“No,” he says quietly. Then, after a beat, “That’s what she thinks.”

You nod slowly, unsure what to say. Your fingers keep fidgeting in your lap, and the silence between you feels too tight to breathe through.

Matt leans back slightly, dragging a hand through his hair. “She woke up this morning acting like everything was fixed,” he mutters, almost to himself.

You glance over at him. “And you just… went along with it?”

His eyes finally meet yours. “What was I supposed to do? I didn’t want to start another fight.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t forgive her. I just didn’t want to make a scene. Especially not with you there.”

You look away again, heart pounding harder than it should.

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s complicated.”

You look at him, curious and a little frustrated. “Then why are you still with her? Why don’t you just break up?”

Matt’s eyes flicker with something unreadable. “If I break up with her now… it means I have to leave the cabin and go home.” He pauses, then adds quietly, “And I wouldn’t get to see you.”

The words hang heavy between you. You don’t know what to say next.

You look away, suddenly unsure what to do with your hands. “Matt…” you start, voice soft. “She’s your girlfriend. My sister. This is… it’s wrong.”

Matt leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tightly together. “I know,” he says, voice low but urgent. “I know it’s wrong.” He pauses, looking down at his hands before meeting your gaze again. “But I can’t stop thinking about you.”

His confession hangs heavy between you, the words thick with implication. You swallow hard, heart pounding in your chest. You should say something,anything… but the words stick in your throat. Matt leans closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re the only thing I want right now. Not her.”

You shake your head slightly, eyes stinging. “Don’t say that,” you whisper, even though part of you aches to hear it again.

Matt’s voice drops lower, filled with a rough edge. “I can’t stop thinking about last night.”

His words hang heavy in the air, stirring everything you’re trying to push down.

You swallow hard, cheeks burning. Your voice is soft, almost shaky. “Last night… it shouldn’t have happened.”

Matt’s eyes search yours, a small, teasing smirk tugging at his lips. “Did you like it?” he asks quietly, his tone both playful and serious.

Your heart skips a beat. You hesitate, then nod barely noticeable, your breath catching in your throat.

Matt watches you closely, his smirk widening slightly. “Did you like my mouth between your legs?” His voice is low, almost unrecognizable, like he’s testing your reaction. Your cheeks burn hotter. You press your thighs together tightly.

"Did you like my fingers inside you?" He whispers the words directly into your ear, his breath hot against your skin. His hand moves to your thigh squeezing gently. "Because I loved it." His thumb traces patterns on your leg through your dress. "So much."

You whisper hoarsely, "Matt... stop." But your body betrays you by leaning into his touch instead of pulling away. Your hand covers his on your thigh, pushing it away slightly. Your eyes meet his intensely "This is wrong..." You remind him weakly.

Matt watches your body language carefully, how you push his hand away but spread your thighs slightly wider. He smirks slightly, knowing your denial doesn't match your actions. "You always say that," he mutters softly.

Your hand still rests lightly over his, not fully pushing him away anymore, but not pulling him closer either. Your breath trembles as you speak, voice barely above a whisper.

“What if… what if my sister finds out?”

The question hangs between you like a warning. Heavy. Real. The heat of the moment suddenly cooled by fear and guilt.

Matt’s eyes stay on yours, something unreadable flickering in them. He doesn’t answer right away.

Your question lingers in the silence, and when Matt doesn’t respond right away, something shifts inside you.

You slowly stand up, pulling your hand away from his. “I should go to my room,” you say softly, avoiding his eyes. Your voice wavers just enough to give you away.

The floor creaks under your steps. You feel his eyes on your back, but he doesn’t follow.

Matt stays there, alone in the quiet room, sinking back into the couch. He runs a hand down his face, mind racing.

Time passes. The house stays still, heavy with everything unsaid.

Then, the front door opens. Footsteps echo down the hallway.

Your sister’s voice calls out casually, “I’m back!”

Her footsteps head straight down the hall. A moment later, you hear her door open.

She’s back in the room with Matt.

You lie still in your bed.

Muted voices come from the other room. You can’t make out words, just the low murmur of your sister talking, and Matt answering every now and then, his voice quieter, duller.

You imagine her trying to cuddle up next to him, laughing, acting like everything’s normal.

Time drags. The house goes quiet again.

You’re just about to turn off your lamp to go to sleep when the door creaks open.

Matt steps in, quietly closing it behind him. His hair’s a mess, his face unreadable in the low light. He stands there for a second like he’s not sure what to say.

“Matt? What are you doing here?’ You ask in a whispering voice not wanting your sister to hear you.

"Shh," he whispers back, taking a careful step closer. His voice is thick with something you can't quite place - desire, regret, maybe both. "I can't fucking sleep knowing you're in here, next door." He runs a hand through his hair roughly, standing at the foot of your bed.

You swallow hard, watching him stand there in the moonlight streaming through your window. You're only wearing a thin tank top and shorts, your hair down and messy from sleep. Matt swallows hard too, watching you watch him. He takes another step closer. "Can I..." He pauses, clearing his throat.

You bite your lip, looking up at him through your lashes. "I… I don't know if it's a good idea." You whisper softly, pulling the covers up slightly to hide your body's reaction to him being here like this.

Matt nods slowly, like he expected that answer. But he doesn't leave. Instead, he takes another step closer until he's right at the edge of your bed. "I know," he whispers back softly. His eyes drop to where the blankets cover your chest briefly before snapping back up to your face.

Without another word, Matt carefully climbs into bed with you. He slides in behind you, pulling the blankets up over both of you. He's careful not to touch you, keeping a small gap between your bodies. But he's there. In your bed. His warmth seeping into your back despite the distance.

Matt leans in slowly, his breath warm on your neck. He pauses for a moment, giving you time to pull away if you want to. But you don't move. He takes that as a silent invitation and presses his lips gently against your neck, just below your ear.

His hand comes up to rest on your hip possessively as he kisses your neck again, this time opening his mouth slightly to suck gently. His fingers dig into your hip bone almost painfully. "Fuck..."

Matt's other hand reaches up to tangle in your hair, tilting your head to the side to give him better access to your neck. He starts to leave a trail of sucking kisses down your neck, his breathing growing heavier with each one.

Without warning, he turns you onto your back and captures your mouth with his, kissing you fiercely. His hand moves from your hip to your waist, pulling you closer. The kiss is deep, passionate, the kind of kiss that makes you forget everything else.

He breaks the kiss to trail his lips down your jaw and neck again, his hands roaming over your body under the covers. His hand moves down to your tiny shorts, teasing you through the fabric. “Fuck, you’re not wearing any panties.”

You gasp softly at the sensation of his fingers pressing against you through your shorts. "Matt... we shouldn't," you whisper breathlessly, but your body arches into his touch despite your words.

Matt ignores your protest, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your shorts and pulling them down in one swift motion. "Shh," he whispers against your ear, "You just gotta be quiet. She can't hear us… If you make any sound I’ll stop."

Matt's fingers find your center, slipping between your folds easily. He groans at how wet you already are. "Fuck, you're soaking." He starts to rub you slowly, his thumb pressing against your clit. His other hand covers your mouth, muffling any sounds that try to escape.

You bite down on his hand to keep from moaning as he adds a finger inside you, pumping it in and out slowly while his thumb circles your clit. He adds another finger, stretching you open as he kisses your neck harshly to distract you from any noise. "Shh..." He warns again.

His voice drops to a husky whisper near your ear, "You remember how good my mouth felt between your legs last time? Should I kiss you there again? Should I lick your sweet little pussy until you come all over my face?" He continues moving his fingers inside you while speaking, driving you crazy.

You whimper against his hand, your body shaking with need. You nod vigorously, your eyes pleading with him to do exactly as he suggested.

“But you gotta stay quiet, okay? You can’t make any noise.” Matt smirks against your neck before suddenly removing his fingers and sliding down between your thighs. He pushes your legs apart roughly but quietly before burying his face between them.

He starts licking you slowly, his tongue flat against your folds. He tastes you thoroughly, savoring the sweetness of your juices. His hands grip your thighs tightly, keeping your legs open as he eats you out like a starving man.

You try to keep quiet but your body betrays you when he finds your clit with his tongue and starts sucking it gently while flicking it rapidly. Your hands fly up to cover your mouth as muffled whimpers escape despite yourself.

Matt's muffled groans vibrate against you as he continues eating you out hungrily - licking, sucking, gently until suddenly two fingers enter you again while his tongue stays focused on your clit." Keep quiet baby," he whispers against you between licks."Don't wanna wake her up."

Your body tenses and shakes as he finger fucks you slowly while sucking and licking your clit. You bite down hard on your hand to keep from screaming out as the pleasure builds and builds. Tears start to stream down your face from the effort of staying quiet. But you can’t, some soft moans escape your mouth.

Matt pauses for a moment, looking up at you with a stern expression. Without warning, he slaps his wet fingers against your clit, making you jump and gasp in shock feeling a bit of pain and pleasure. “I told you to stay quiet, didn't I?”

He goes back to eating you out with renewed intensity, his fingers curling up inside you to hit that sensitive spot. Every few seconds, he pauses to slap your clit with his wet fingers or bites down gently, making you squeak and bite down harder on your hand. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

"Look at you," he whispers against your thigh, before licking up your arousal that's dripping down. "Dying to come while trying to stay quiet. Is it turning you on more that we could get caught by your sister?" He pushes his fingers deeper inside you, curling them perfectly.

You throw your head back against the pillow, tears streaming down your face from both pleasure and the strain of staying silent. Matt's words and actions push you closer to the edge.

"Come for me baby," he whispers against your clit before sucking it hard into his mouth again. His fingers pump faster inside you while he uses his tongue expertly on that sensitive spot. "Let go," he commands softly.

Your body obeys his command, your orgasm crashing over you in waves. Your hips buck against his face as you come hard, your muffled screams turning into choked sobs. Your body shakes slightly as he continues to lick and suck your clit gently through your orgasm.

As the last waves of your orgasm subside, Matt slowly pulls his fingers out of you and wipes his face with the back of his hand. He gives you a smug smile, clearly pleased with himself. "That's a good girl," he whispers before leaning in to kiss you deeply.

He kisses you deeply, letting you taste your own sweetness on his lips. He pulls back slightly, his eyes locked onto yours. "You did so well staying quiet," he says softly, running a hand through your hair. Then he takes off his pants, letting out his hard cock.

You get a bit nervous as you see his cock for the first time. “Matt…”

"Shh, it's okay," Matt interrupts you softly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. "I know you’re a virgin… just let me rub against you, okay? I don’t have to put it in.”

You swallow hard, nodding softly. Matt smirks slightly, clearly pleased with your trust. "Just spread your legs for me baby," he guides your legs apart gently. He settles between them, his hard length resting against your soaking wet folds without entering you. He starts to grind against you slowly, his length sliding between your lips and hitting your clit with each motion. "Fuck…"

He keeps grinding against you slowly, his cock sliding between your wet folds and hitting your clit with each thrust. The head of his cock hits your entrance but doesn't push in, just teasing you. He reaches down and spreads your legs wider apart to get better access, making soft groans in your ear.

You let out a soft whimper as he hits your clit perfectly with each grind. Your hands grip his arms tightly. "Matt... it feels so good," you whisper quietly, your hips starting to move slightly against him instinctively. He kisses you deeply to muffle any louder sounds you might make.

He groans into your mouth, his hips moving faster against you. "You feel so fucking good," he murmurs against your lips. "Your little pussy is so wet and warm."

He continues to grind against you for a few more moments before pulling back slightly to look into your eyes. His breath is ragged as he asks quietly between kisses: “Can I put just…the tip in?” He presses just slightly harder against your entrance without pushing inside yet.

You bite your lip nervously but nod slowly. "Okay..." you whisper softly. Matt gives you a gentle kiss before slowly pushing just the tip of his cock inside you. You gasp quietly at the sudden stretch and slight pain. He freezes immediately, giving you time to adjust.`"Shh..."

Matt leans down and whispers softly into your ear, "It's okay baby, it's just the tip... Fuck, you're so tight." He kisses you gently to distract you from any discomfort. He doesn't move any further inside you yet, letting you get used to the sensation of having him there.

You let out a soft sigh, relaxing slightly as the initial pain subsides. "It's okay," you whisper, "it feels... good." Matt smiles against your lips, clearly pleased with your response. He starts to move very slowly, pushing in just a fraction more but still only the tip.

Matt continues to move slowly, his hips moving in shallow thrusts.He keeps a close eye on your expression, making sure you're okay. "You're doing so well," he praises softly, his hand coming up to gently caress your cheek. "Such a good girl, taking me so well." Matt murmurs, his voice husky with desire. "You like that?"

"Mm-hmm," you whisper back, feeling a strange mix of pleasure and discomfort, feeling Matt's tip stretch you open. You're so wet and ready that he could probably push in deeper without much resistance.

Matt groans softly at your response, his hips moving in slightly deeper thrusts now. "Fuck, your little pussy is so fucking wet," he whispers against your lips. "It's pulling me in, trying to suck me deeper... Fuck."

Matt chuckles softly against your lips, his voice strained. "Shit, baby... I know I said only the tip, but fuck, you're so wet and ready for me... fuck, you're making it so hard to resist." Can I push in deeper? Just a little more?" He grinds against you harder, his cock throbbing at the thought of being deeper inside your tight pussy.

You bite your lip nervously, looking up at Matt with wide eyes. "Will... will it hurt if you go deeper?" you ask quietly, your voice shaking slightly. "I'm scared it might be too big..." You wrap your arms around his neck, holding onto him tightly.

Matt cups your face gently, kissing your forehead. "Baby, I promise, it might feel weird and a little uncomfortable at first, but I'll go really slow, okay? And if it hurts, I'll stop right away. I'd never hurt you, sweetheart." He kisses your forehead again.

Matt takes a deep breath and slowly pushes in a little deeper, his cock stretching your tight pussy. He pauses, giving you time to adjust. "You're doing so good," he whispers, his voice strained with desire. He starts to move slowly, inch by inch, pushing deeper inside you.

As he pushes deeper inside you, Matt leans down and whispers in your ear, "Remember baby... gotta stay quiet." He punctuates his words with a gentle thrust, making sure you feel him fully now. "Don't want your sister to hear us now do we?"

You whimper softly, biting your lip to muffle the sound as Matt fills you completely. It feels strange and a little uncomfortable at first, but it also feels good in a way you can't quite describe. You nod your head, understanding Matt's words.

Matt starts to move slowly, his hips rocking against yours. He kisses you deeply, swallowing any sounds that might escape your lips. "That's it," he whispers between kisses. "Just like that... fuck, your little pussy feels so good wrapped around my cock." His pace picks up slightly but remains gentle.

You feel a mix of sensations, the stretch and fullness of Matt's cock inside you, the gentle rocking of his hips against yours, and the pressure building in your lower belly. You're so turned on that you can barely think straight. The forbidden nature of it all makes it even more intense.

"You're taking me so well, baby..." he whispers, picking up the pace slightly. "Can you feel how deep I am inside you?" He grinds his hips, hitting a spot that makes you gasp silently, his hand quickly covering your mouth. "Shh... quiet."

He starts to thrust a bit faster, his cock sliding in and out of your tight pussy. He hits that spot over and over, his hand still covering your mouth to keep you quiet. He can feel you getting wetter and wetter around him, making it easier for him to move inside you.

Matt's breathing becomes heavier, his thrusts more urgent but still controlled. He leans down to kiss your neck softly, his voice low and husky in your ear. "I'm gonna fuck you harder now baby... but you gotta stay quiet." He pulls out slightly before pushing back in deeper than ever.

You nod against his shoulder, your arms wrapped tightly around him. He starts to fuck you harder, faster, his cock pounding into your pussy with each thrust. The sound of skin hitting skin fills the room but Matt's hand over your mouth keeps any noise from escaping.

Matt's hips slam against yours, his cock driving into your tight pussy over and over again. He can feel the pressure building inside him but he wants you to come first. He reaches down with his free hand and starts rubbing your clit in circles while he fucks you.

You bite down hard on Matt's hand, a muffled cry escaping your lips as he fucks you harder and rubs your clit with just the right pressure. Your pussy clenches around his cock as you get closer and closer to the edge. "Mmmph”

Matt feels your pussy tightening around him and knows you're close. He leans down to whisper in your ear, "Come for me baby... I want to feel that tight little pussy squeeze my cock." He thrusts harder and faster, his fingers working your clit furiously.

Your body tenses as the waves of pleasure wash over you. You muffle your scream into Matt's hand, your pussy convulsing around his thick cock as you come harder than you ever have before. He continues to fuck you through your orgasm, drawing it out as long as possible.

"That's it... fuck yes..." he groans quietly, feeling your orgasm pulse around his cock. He slows his thrusts but keeps moving, drawing out every last tremble of your climax. His own release is building rapidly, his balls tight against him.

With a final, deep thrust, he pulls out of your sensitive pussy and wraps his hand around his throbbing cock. He jerks himself off quickly, hot cum spilling out and coating your pussy and inner thighs.

Matt's breath is ragged as he finishes, coating your pussy and inner thighs with thick ropes of cum. He collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms as he tries to catch his breath. His hand remains loosely over your mouth, even though no more sounds are escaping.

He kisses your neck softly before removing his hand from your mouth. "You were so fucking perfect baby... I've been wanting that for so long." He runs his fingers through your hair gently before pulling out a tissue to clean up some of the mess he made.

You look up at him with wide eyes, still catching your breath. "Really?" You whisper nervously.

Matt smiles down at you warmly, his fingers tracing your cheek. "Really... I've been wanting this for a long time." He leans in to kiss you softly before pulling back slightly. “I mean I’ve always found you prettier than you sister…” he says as he starts leaving little kisses all over your neck and face. “And… kinder” he says in between kisses. “sweeter… cuter” he keeps saying in between kisses as his hands move to your sides to tickle you slightly.

You giggle softly, not making a lot of noise, trying to squirm away from his tickling fingers. "Stop..." you say playfully, pushing against his chest. "So you've always thought that?" You look up at him with innocent eyes.

Matt's eyes sparkle with amusement as he continues to tickle you, loving the way you giggle and squirm. "Mhm... always." He says between kisses on your cheeks and nose. "You're just so fucking adorable, I can't help myself."

He finally stops tickling you and wraps his arms around you tightly, holding you close. "I think we should keep doing this... if you want."

You bite your lip nervously, your arms wrapping around his neck instead of pushing him away like you usually do when he gets too close. "What if my sister finds out?" You whisper softly, your voice barely audible. "She'll kill me..." You try to joke but it comes out shaky and nervous instead.

Matt chuckles softly, understanding your concern. He runs his fingers through your hair, trying to soothe your nerves. "She doesn't have to know." He leans in closer, his voice low and reassuring. "This can be our little secret."

Taglist pt 1:

@blahbel668 @bernardsbendystraws @sturnzsblog @deffonotjae @suyqa

@mattsturniololover1 @mattsturniolosgf @annsx03 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @strnzzvsp

@mattsfavbitchhh @yourenogoodforme-blog @mattshighway @lauren-222 @slvtformatts

@megamorgan44 @xaristhings @ariestrxsh @sucretwin @tisiablack

@nelxoxo14 @miasturn1ol0 @mattssslutbby @sophsturns @sturnberrys

@sturniololover69 @wakeupitschrizz @jessie-essie @freshlov3 @sturniolofreakk

@lydi2718 @chrisstvrns @le4hsblog @pip4444chris @chris-hallelujah

@esioleren @namelesssav @ilovemenwithlonghairr @ribread03 @valkatriee

@sturniolofreakk @izzylovesmatt @lolastrniolo @pip4444chris @idrk2292

@strnilolover @2prcntmilkluvr @chrissbows @chrissweetheart @strvnolin

[theyluvlyss]

𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 "𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬" 𝐟𝐢𝐜/𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐲𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞...

no offense, but it's the same five songs (a.k.a. same plots/reader types) over and over again. like guys - WHERE'S THE CREATIVITY ?! THE FANTASY ?! THE IMAGINATION ?!

like hellooo, there's literally vampires, magic/hoodoo, and a million themes both hidden and not-so-hidden to work with. not to say i'm not loving what i'm seeing right now, don't get it twisted - I am, and y'all are good,,, but I just think we can do more and better😌🙏🏽.

hence why, I present...

a list of some wip's I got goin' for the future, along with my takes on why/how I came up with them😻 !!

but before I begin...

fair warning #1 - you're welcome to be inspired, but plz don't steal, i'm putting so much effort into these, my notes app hasn't been closed not once😭🙏🏽.

fair warning #2 - ikik, most of these are remmick, plz don't come for me✋🏽🥲✋🏽. I was trying to get them all out of my head before I forgot them, I love working with vampire characters, and finally, yes ofc I will be conjuring up some more for bo chow, plenty for stack and smoke, and some for sammie :). I am a multifandom account, after all, I be working on helllllaaaa other things and trying not to forget them all, so cut some slack <3.

fair warning #3 - I mentioned this in my last post, but all of my readers are black/black-coded. obnoxiously so. because, and stay mad about it, but this is for the niggas, strictly for the niggas, like I don't give a FUCK, okay? y'all can request whatever y'all want (within reason, because if I see something weird in my inbox, you're blockt), but when it comes down to prompts like these - where they're made up by me, original thoughts, not asked for, this is my blog and I can post what I want type shit - it always gave black!reader, like it's the norm over here, I shouldn't even have to say it lol.

anyways, onto my wip's /ᐠ^˕^マ !!...

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okayokayokay, I know what I said earlier - "iT's tHe sAmE fIvE sOnGs🙉!!" - but listen... I have yet to see a vamp!reader fic where the reader being turned doesn't happen at the end, and it's vague, and doesn't explore that narrative further.

also, it's always intentional, which I get, yk, but I wanna switch it up, give y'all a taste of it being a complete accident and then further delve into the feelings, effects, experience of reader being turned. ofc, with remmick being there for assistance and emotional support in a rather "morbid-amused-lowkey unwanted by the reader, but they don't got much of a choice rn" sorta way lmfao.

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shoutout to the niggas workin' with brail rn, who's personal documents say "legally blind", who's prescription glasses are THICKKK asf...

I see you😌✊🏽.

was that outta pocket?

my fault, anyways...

my thought process behind this was very adhd, so before you attack me, hear me out lol.

vampires are so cool because one of their abilities is having their senses heightened to an almost unnatural degree - I want a reader who has that same ability, but I don't want them to be a vampire, just super skilled with their senses - how would a reader who's not a vampire have heightened senses? idk,,, what type of humans have heightened senses? - ...blind ppl (💀) have heightened senses cuz they can't see, so they have to rely on the other five to get by (because I believe in sixth senses lol)... crazy connetion, but it's true💀 - LOL imagine remmick and reader going sense for sense fr tho.

mr. I-live-for-the-hunt meets ms. i'm-not-the-one.

shit becomes a "don't breathe" remake rq (without the freaky-deaky stuff towards the end, unless y'all are into that, idk💀✋🏽-).

idk, I see a vibe here, it's getting written fs.

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I think it'd just be really funny to write about bo putting up with this silly, dramatic, type of reader. maybe a charlotte "lottie" la bouff type. spoiled but not rotten, definitely a character fr, and he entertains it because he loves it (won't admit it) and reader (admits and shows it).

reader is all pretty and pink and expressive and all her own, and honestly ?? she doesn't really have to go to visit his shop every single day, but she does because this little girl type crush just won't settle (won't admit it, but definitely shows it).

plus, HELLO, black wealth and excellence, idc if it's not fully accurate for the time, it's called fanfiction for a reason. get with it or get lost, let the girlies be drowned in privilege and in bo chow's love, attention, and care😻✨️🩷.

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vampires exist in this world.

you really think i'm not gonna entertain the possibility of other mythical creatures existing as well?

BOOOO LAME‼️

furthermore,,, you really think i'm not bold enough to apply that possibility to some sinners fanfic? did I not JUST talk about creativity??

oh, you not fuckin' with it???

BOOOOO LAAAAMMMEEE TOMATO TOMATO, I'M THROWING TOMATOES‼️🍊‼️🍊‼️.

anyways, I have nothing to explain this/myself more with other than this little sliver of dialogue, for fear of spoiling the fic idea I have in mind/am working on...

. . .

"Oh, honey..." You trailed, barely strangling back a laugh bubbling deep from within your chest, your voice lined with a sense of pity.

Knowingness.

Hardly any question when you asked, "...D'you really think you were the only monster lurkin' through these woods...?"

. . .

THAT'S IT, that's enough, that's all you're getting, teehee🤭🫵🏽.

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i'm a slut for whimsy (and size kinks), what can I say🤷🏽‍♀️?

also, I think I should HEAVILY lean into the "mischievous" aspects of how pixies/fairies are said to be - LOL just some lil' sparkly-winged, elf-eared, three-apples-tall ass creature/reader wreaking havoc on the kkk and others who do wrong, dirty, and evil, reader doing her best to uplift those who don't have her wings, who can't just fly away from the struggles happening all around, reader providing some fun and magic into little boy's and girl's lives, and-

oh, what's this?

reader spotting remmick absolutely devouring some poor soul who crossed his path and, well, they can't help but be interested and curious. maybe even mess with him a little bit.

cue remmick having to put up with reader's mystical magical nonsense, hating every second, but heaven forbid if something happens to the reader😌🥴✋🏽...

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(my picture limit ruined my aesthetic, y'all😔💔)

remmick x jaded!reader

lmfao ik that sounds wild, but lemme cook✋🏽🥴✋🏽...

reader who - doesn't not care - but it takes a lot to actually phase them/gain a physical reaction. and I mean a LOT.

also, like, they're a freak!! god forbid reader sees something they like, like🙀🙄... (throw back another shot after every like).

idk how i'm gonna pull this off, but I just think it'd be amusingly jarring for remmick to come across a reader who has no fears about his ass being a vampire, nor gives any fucks about his threats on turning them. they've seen and been under much worse circumstances...

"ain't no need for that, the last thing I wanna do is be stuck on this earth for another day😒✋🏽..."

"...I...wha-...y-"

"-if you play nice, though, i'll clean ya' up. you gettin' blood all over my laundry and I don't have time to redo the load."

cue unlikely friendship😻?

remmick is the semi-unruly puppy, and reader is the reluctant owner type beat, because you already know he's coming back, no way he's not😹.

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remmick x fiftiesera!reader

i'm feeling nice, so i'll go ahead and leak the title i'm gonna use😌...

. . .

" 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧' 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐀 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐧 𝐂𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐜𝐡 "

. . .

to sum up what i've got in the oven...

religious themes/god complex/kink(?) - vampire turning ofc😌 - smut (have I mentioned that some of these prompts do include smut?? well, they do lmao) - do you have issues with your parents? reallllyy don't like them?? this fic will potentially heal some of that for you idk lol - the second out of two of my readers who are gonna be a little... naive... but it's fine, most of my readers so far have been pretty, "i'm not with that bullshit" types. we need ✨️balance✨️.

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remmick x heavyflow!reader

I won't lie, I saw a tumblr post on here that fully inspired what I have in mind...

so thanks to them, everybody thank this user lol. all I plan on doing is fleshing out this prompt into a full blown imagine, like deadass.

remmick at your door every time he can smell the start of your cycle...

yes bruh, I used my last pic for a meme, god forbid I put humor over visual pleasure, like🙄✋🏽...

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remmick x 2025era!/modern!reader

no idea what i'm gonna do with this, ngl, I just figured that if i'ma do a reader from the 50's, y'all would start screaming at me to do a modern reader, so🥴💀.

i'll take ideas/requests, tho :D !!

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that's a wrap (for now) !!

again, i'm very aware (and not proud) of the fact it's mostly remmick, but like I said, there's plans for sammie, smoke, stack, and bo, so don't get on my case, I just need time to keep brainstorming before I explode lmfao💀😭.

anyways, stay tuned y'all, because these fics are all currently in the works and I will be honest, the more ppl confirm they're rocking with these prompts and looking forward to them, the more likely/confident i'll be with actually getting them done and done well :).

byeeee, i'll be back in another millenia😻‼️✨️.

[mangooes]

The Cat-tastrophe

part 2 here!

Sylus had seen many things in his life—wars, betrayals, the rise and fall of entire empires. But nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared him for the sight before him now.

A small, fluffy furred cat with strikingly familiar light eyes sat in the middle of their bed, staring up at him with an unmistakable expression of pure irritation.

“…(Name), sweetie?” Sylus finally managed, blinking in disbelief.

The cat huffed.

Oh, this was definitely his wife.

He slowly crouched down, observing the feline who—just a moment ago—had been his beautiful, sassy, human wife. The same wife who, not even an hour ago, had pushed him out of the way and taken the hit from a poisoned blade meant for him.

And now… she was this.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

(Name), in her tiny cat form, flicked her fluffy tail aggressively, ears flattened.

“I take that as a ‘no, I am very much not kidding you, husband’?” Sylus smirked, reaching out to poke her tiny forehead.

She bit him.

“Ouch, you wound me sweetheart.” Sylus snatched his hand back, shaking it in mild offense. “Sweetie, you just turned into a cat and you’re biting me?”

The furball huffed again, then turned her back to him dramatically, sitting primly as if saying: This is your fault, deal with it.

Sylus exhaled, raking a hand through his hair. "You just had to jump in front of me, didn't you?" He muttered, staring at her tiny, fluffy form. "And now I'm married to a cat."

(Name)—the cat—turned her head to squint at him.

Sylus dramatically placed a hand over his heart. "Oh, my beloved wife, what have they done to you?"

She swiped at his hand with her tiny claws.

He dodged, grinning. "Alright, alright, kitten, don’t get your tail in a twist." He picked her up effortlessly, despite her very vocal protests of angry meows. Holding her up to eye level, he inspected her closely. “You know, this is actually adorable. Maybe I should keep you like this forever.”

She smacked him in the face with her tail.

Sylus laughed. “Ohh, don’t look at me like that, sweetie. You’re so soft and tiny, how am I supposed to take you seriously?” He rubbed his cheek against her fur, nuzzling, smirking.

“I could just carry you everywhere~”

(Name) violently wiggled in his grip, clearly screaming in cat language.

“Fine, fine,” Sylus chuckled, setting her down gently onto his lap. He stroked her ears, watching as they twitched in irritation. “We’ll fix this, alright? I’ll get Luke and Kieran to find a cure. Until then…” His smirk widened.

“I guess I get to have a lap cat now.”

She flopped onto his lap in defeat, letting out the most dramatic sigh a cat could possibly make.

This was going to be a long night.

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

Sylus thought he had everything under control.

Key word: thought.

He had (Name)—his fluffy little cat wife—perched comfortably in his lap, purring only when bribed with chin scratches. He had locked all possible escape routes, because well he knew she would eventually try to sneak off without his notice. What a naughty kitten.

He had stationed Luke and Kieran outside, warning them that if they so much as let a furred cat slip past them, they'd be scrubbing bloodstains out of his office floors for the next month.

But this was well, (Name).

The same woman who once escaped from an enemy’s clutches while wearing stilettos.

The same woman who broke into his office once—just to steal his favorite snack out of pure spite.

The same woman who, even in cat form, had zero intention of staying put.

Escape Attempt #1: The Window Leap Sylus had been answering a call when he heard it—the distinct sound of tiny claws scratching against the window panel.

He turned around just in time to see a blur of fur launching itself at the glass.

With inhuman reflexes, he caught her mid-air, holding her up by the scruff as she dangled, wiggling furiously.

“Sweetie,” Sylus said slowly, narrowing his crimson eyes.

The cat blinked at him innocently. Who, me?

Sylus sighed. "You're so lucky you're cute."

Escape Attempt #2: The ‘Poor Helpless Kitten’ Act

She sprawled out limp, sighing the deepest sigh imaginable, rolling onto her back with her paws curled up.

A pitiful, mournful meow escaped her.

Luke, who had been standing guard, looked genuinely concerned. “Boss, maybe she’s hungry? Or sick?”

Sylus raised a brow.

Kieran chimed in. “Yeah, she looks like she’s in pain—”

While the others had their guard down, then she bolted.

One second, she was a poor helpless kitten, and the next, she had slipped through Kieran’s legs and dashed under the nearest cabinet.

“…She played us,” Kieran deadpanned.

Luke gasped. “Missus… I trusted you.”

(Name)’s tail twitched mischievously from under the cabinet.

Sylus groaned, rubbing his temples, he loved how sassy his wife is, but now? Hes tempted to lock her in his arms forever.

Escape Attempt #3: Acctually successing this time. After multiple failed escape missions, (Name) had disappeared.

Like, completely vanished.

Luke and Kieran had no idea where she went. Sylus had torn apart the room twice.

It wasn’t until he checked mephisto's cctv recordings that he knew exactly what had happened.

(Name) had escaped through an air vent, successfully made it out to the courtyard, and—

—was last seen dashing away from the backyard.

Sylus sighed, and a low chuckle errupts from him.

“Looks like i need to fetch my missing kitten,” he called out, loud and sharp enough for the twins to hear the lethal tone of his wording.

The twins gulped, able to sense their boss's rising frustration.

The said man walks pass the twins, his jacket on his arms as he fetch his expensive sport bike key.

Before glancing behind, crimson eyes locked, expression stern.

There was a long silence.

A command that must be fullfiled.

"I want her found, now."

There will be a part 2 btw!! And it involves xavier and his version of reader!! So everyone gets to be with a wife too LMAOO. Anyways I have finally FINISHEDD MY EXAMM AKJSD which means more writting for Sylus <3

[svtiddiess]

Sex Education

Synopsis: In all your years of education you learned that there are many methods to study: flashcards, study groups, the pomodoro method etc. But you find that practice is better than theory. And what better way to study Biology than practice with your study buddy?

Pairing: loser!virgin!med student!Mingyu x afab!med student!reader

Genre: smut, slight crack, med school! au, mini-series

Rating: mature

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: pet names (puppy), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don't do this!), creampie, size kink, choking, loss of virginity, sub!Gyu, big dick!Gyu, loser!Gyu, riding, masturbation, lemme know if I missed anything!

Note: Thank you so much for helping me with the synopsis my twin @tomodachiii! As promised, here's sub!Gyu.

Thank you so much to @onlymingyus for beta reading!

Read part 2 here!

Click here to join my taglist!

Read on ao3

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

Mingyu.

That's the only thing on your mind right now—nothing else, just Mingyu. You should probably be paying attention to the lesson, but how could you, with the hot nerd sitting right within your line of sight? Okay, maybe you chose this seat specifically so you could look at him without getting caught, but still! He’s a distraction you’re more than happy to have.

You rest your chin in your hand, sighing as your eyes trace over his figure. He’s built like a Greek god—strong, tall, with perfectly styled black hair, and his large square glasses barely hide his handsome, tan face. Oh, what you’d give just to see him without those glasses on.

You’ve known Mingyu since middle school. You never really interacted, but you definitely noticed him around. Back in school, he was known as the nerdy kid with glasses and a scrawny, lanky frame to match. Shy and awkward, he was an easy target for bullies. But over the years, his muscle mass increased, and his frame filled out. It seems he’s been putting in serious hours at the gym, and it’s definitely paid off.

Although he’s the most handsome guy in med school, he’s still incredibly shy and reserved, keeping his circle small and close-knit. Despite numerous people, especially girls, trying to get closer to him, he just pushes them away. That’s why, despite your massive crush, you haven’t made a move. You’re too scared he’ll shut you out and avoid you for good.

You can't help but bite your bottom lip and squeeze your thighs together as you rake your eyes over his bulging biceps, his shirt barely able to contain the muscle. Just one chokehold; one chokehold is all you're asking for, really. You sigh once again, knowing that you'll never be able to have him.

Your train of unholy thoughts is abruptly interrupted by the sound of your professor calling your name. Startled, you sit up and look towards him.

"Miss Y/N, are you even paying attention?" Prof. Choi huffs, crossing his arms.

"Of course I am, professor," you reply, flashing the sweetest smile you can manage.

"Then, for the third time, please answer the question on the board," he says, gesturing to the problem.

"Uh…" you trail off, completely lost.

Prof. Choi sighs and tells you to see him after class, to which you reluctantly agree. You sink into your chair, dreading what’s to come. Shaking your head, you let out a sigh and shifted your gaze back to Mingyu, watching in awe as he effortlessly answered the very question you stumbled over. Tall, muscular, hot, and smart—he really is the perfect guy.

You grumble as Prof. Choi calls your name, sabotaging your plan to slip out of class. Sighing, you drag yourself over to his desk, only to be surprised when Mingyu joins you. You glance between Mingyu and Prof. Choi, waiting for an explanation.

"Y/N, I’ll get straight to the point—you’re failing this class," Prof. Choi says. "At this rate, I’m not sure you'll be able to move on to the next year."

Well, it’s not your fault that a hot distraction named Kim Mingyu exists.

"That’s why I’ve assigned Mingyu here as your tutor to help you pass," he says, nodding toward Mingyu.

Your eyes widen, and you struggle to suppress a smile. Mingyu tutoring you? Spending time alone with him? This feels like a dream come true. You silently thank both Prof. Choi and the heavens for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Mingyu gives you a shy smile. "I hope we can get along well," he says, extending his hand.

You gratefully take it, noticing the blush coloring his cheeks.

"Please take good care of me, Mingyu," you say, beaming, already looking forward to your tutoring sessions.

You smooth out your skirt one last time before opening the door for Mingyu. You made sure to wear your sluttiest outfit today. After insisting that your brain works better when you study in your room, Mingyu shyly agreed to hold the tutoring sessions there.

You smile and step aside to let him in, watching as he sheepishly steps into your house. Making sure your ass is sticking out, you made him follow you upstairs to your room.

You sat down on your bed, subtly raising your skirt, and gestured for Mingyu to take a seat next to you. He awkwardly took his seat and started pulling out his notes.

He keeps his eyes on his notes as he starts explaining today’s lesson—something about the Krebs cycle, though you’re not really listening. You’re too busy admiring his handsome face. You twirl a strand of hair and blink sweetly as you ask (hopefully relevant) questions, but he barely glances at you while answering.

After what feels like hours of studying (it’s been 30 minutes), you whine and beg him for a break, and he blushes as he agrees.

"Would you like some snacks? Or maybe water or juice?" you ask, perking up.

"Just a glass of water is fine," he mumbles, still focused on his notes.

You nod and grab a glass of water for him and a snack for yourself. Returning, you hand him the water with a smile, which he accepts with a quiet “thank you,” while you peel your banana for your snack.

You lick the tip of the banana before biting down on it, smirking when you see Mingyu gulping at your actions. Noticing you looking at him, he blushes and quickly averts his gaze.

"Want a bite?" You offer him with a sultry smirk.

"N-No, thank you," he mumbles, his ears turning red.

You giggle as you finish your banana and scoot a little closer, prompting him to continue the lesson. But he’s a stuttering mess, tripping over his words and repeatedly asking for more water to soothe his suddenly dry throat.

After stuttering his way through, Mingyu finally managed to finish the lesson. Sore from having hunched over, you stretch, not so subtly pressing your chest against his arm. Mingyu flushes, quickly gathering his notes and mumbling something about being late for a gaming session with Wonwoo.

You see him out, throwing in a wink and waving goodbye. You watch as he stumbles a bit while getting onto his Vespa and driving off. Chuckling to yourself, you can't help but smile at how cute he is.

The rest of the tutoring sessions go the same way: you not-so-subtly flirt with Mingyu, while he either purposely ignores it or remains completely oblivious. You even try to out-slut your outfits with every tutoring session, but nothing seems to work.

One night, after yet another session, you lie in bed, frustrated that Mingyu isn’t picking up on your very obvious hints. Who knew the loser nerd would actually turn out to be a huge loser? You sigh, but him being a huge loser is what you find most endearing about him.

You bite your lip, remembering what he wore today—a black polo that stretched perfectly over his muscles, jeans that hugged his thighs just right, and of course, those thick black frames.

You can't help but sneak your hand down your torso as you remember how his arm felt pressed against your boobs. They felt so strong and firm, you bet that he could easily carry you and fuck you mid-air.

You shiver as your hand sneaks under your panties. You circle your pussy, collecting your arousal before pushing a finger into your hole, sighing at the slight stretch. You moan at the thought of Mingyu's fingers being way bigger than yours. His fingers would stretch you out so well before he finally fucks you with his huge cock.

You insert another finger and start thrusting your fingers, moaning out Mingyu's name. You imagine him hovering over you as he relentlessly thrusts into you, groaning your name right beside your ear. He'd growl as your fingers rake his back, leaving angry red marks. You'd wrap your legs around his hips and push him in deeper, making him breed you.

Your other hand circles your clit as you feel yourself getting to the edge. You imagine him thrusting from behind as his large bicep chokes you, putting just enough pressure to heighten the pleasure. He'd whimper and moan in your ear, letting you know how good you feel wrapped around him. He'd fill you up with his cum, again and again, and again, until the sheets underneath you are soaked with your mixed fluids.

Your breath hitches as you cum, whispering his name like a prayer, hoping that if you say it enough times, he’ll appear before you and make your dreams come true.

But he doesn't, and you're left lying in bed, sticky, sweaty, and alone.

You yawn for the umpteenth time as Mingyu drones on about anatomy; you're sure your brain has shut down by now. You sigh as you lean back onto the bed, too tired even to sit up.

"Mingyu, can we please take a break? I don't think my brain can take any more of this," you groan, resting your arm over your eyes.

"U-Uh, yeah, sure," Mingyu mumbles, fiddling with his notes. "We could always switch to a different topic if you want a change of pace…"

"What's the next topic?"

"The reproductive system."

Your eyebrows shoot up, and a smirk paints your face as an idea pops into your head. You sit up and grin at Mingyu.

"Sure, let's learn about the reproductive system."

Happy that you're finally interested in a topic, Mingyu gathers his notes and starts to explain. After about 15 minutes of explanation, you put your hand over his and gently push away his notes.

"Mingyu, I don’t understand the topic at all," you say with a pout, shifting to sit directly in front of him. His face turns bright red, clearly flustered. "I think it would help if we put the theory into practice so I can learn better," you purr.

Mingyu stumbles over his words, stuttering, his brain clearly short-circuiting. You giggle at his flustered state and shift to sit on his lap, your legs on either side of him.

"Will you let me use you to put the theory into practice, Mingyu?" you ask, tilting your head with a pout as you gently cup his face.

"I-I’m not sure h-how…" Mingyu stammers, swallowing hard.

"Oh, you poor thing," you coo. "It's okay, I'll guide you, puppy. Will you let me?"

He licks his lips and lets out a shaky breath before giving a small nod.

"Don't worry, puppy, I'll make sure to take good care of you," you hum as you gently remove his glasses.

He blinks and looks up at you, lips parted and cheeks flushed. You take a moment to admire his handsome face without the glasses. Cupping his face, your eyes trace over his features—his strong jawline, his parted lips, and the small mole on the tip of his nose. Unable to resist, you lean in and place a gentle kiss there, making him shiver.

"Can I kiss you, puppy?" You whisper.

"P-Please," he whimpers, and you can't help but smile over how pathetic he sounds.

You lean in and press your lips against his, and he kisses back desperately, hungry for your lips. You chuckle into the kiss, his inexperience showing with every hesitant movement. When you pull back, he leans forward, chasing your lips and letting out a soft whine when you don’t return the kiss.

"Puppy, if you don't behave, I will punish you," you scowl, furrowing your eyebrows.

"'m sorry," he mumbles with a pout.

You plant a soft kiss on the tip of his nose, then slowly run your hands down his torso, gently squeezing each muscle through his white polo. He moans and shivers under your touch, his eyes squeezing shut.

"Puppy works hard in the gym, hm?" You giggle, squeezing his chest slightly harder, eliciting a gasp from him.

You giggle, then start slowly dragging your hands to his arms, squeezing his biceps.

"God, your arms are so big and strong," you moan, squeezing him hard. "I want you to choke me, puppy. Can you do that for me? Choke me with your biceps?"

Letting out a shaky breath, he nods. You shift, pressing your back against his chest. He gently puts you into a chokehold and squeezes his arm slightly. Your eyes roll back, and a moan slips from your lips when you feel his biceps push against your throat.

You can't help but feel small in Mingyu's hold; he's just so big and beefy. You grind your hips against him, and you feel his grip faltering. He whimpers and pushes his erection against your butt.

"P-Please, I can't. I-It hurts," he whimpers against your ear.

You sneak down your hand and palm him through his jeans, making him groan and buck your hips against your palm.

"Need me to take care of your problem puppy?" You giggle, palming him roughly.

"Please," he strains out, choking back a moan.

He releases you from the chokehold, and you quickly clamber over to grab the bottle of lube you've stashed on the side table. You look over to see that he's already pushed his jeans and boxers down and freed his aching cock.

"Impatient are we now, puppy?" You chuckle, making his cheeks heat up.

Locking eyes with him, you give him a sultry look as you slowly peel off your panties but keep your skirt on. He gulps hard, shifting in place, anticipating your next move.

Biting your lip, you slowly crawl back over to him. You pour lube all over his cock and give him a few pumps, he whines your name and bucks his hips, making you giggle.

"Gonna make you feel so good, puppy," you whisper as you shift to hover over him.

You grab onto his shoulders and slowly sink onto his big cock, the stretch making you moan out loud. Mingyu whines and groans under you, his hands fly to your hips, fingers digging into you.

"F-Fuck," he groans, squeezing his eyes shut as your warmth slowly envelopes him.

Your mouth goes agape, and your eyes roll back when you feel his tip kiss your cervix.

"M-Move, please move. I-I can't," he begs, muscles straining under you.

You slowly lift yourself and slam back down onto him, making the both of you moan out loud. Slowly picking up your pace, you start riding him. He becomes a blubbering mess under you, moaning your name and whining at how good it feels.

"Look at the mess we're making, puppy," you pant out, lifting your skirt and showing him the sticky mess forming at the base of his cock.

He looks down at where both of you are connected and moans. He starts picking you up and slamming you down at an animalistic pace, his hips meeting you halfway. You squeal at the feeling of him rutting into you.

Unable to hold back any longer, he cums hard, filling you up to the brim with his seeds. Desperate to reach your high, you continue to ride him despite his chokes and whimpers. You capture his lips into a messy kiss to distract him from the overstimulation.

"C-Circle my clit," you mumble in between the kiss, and he complies, his hand immediately sneaking down and rubbing your clit in circles.

You yell his name as you cum around him, squeezing every drop of cum out of him. Mingyu moans, and a few tears slip from his eyes at the feeling of you squeezing him with a vice-like grip.

You both take a moment to catch your breath, your head resting on Mingyu’s shoulder as he leans back against the headboard. Licking your lips, you cup his face and look into his dazed eyes.

"You did so well, puppy," you coo, watching him blush and give you a fucked-out smile.

"But I don't think I've fully understood the topic yet. Maybe we should go over it again, just to be sure," you say before smashing your lips on his again.

Taglist: @tinyelfperson @gyuguys @stay-tiny-things @unlikelysublimekryptonite @miyx-amour

@iamawkwardandshy @codeinebelle @brownbunnyb @do-you-remember-summer-127 @sclovreina

@theidontknowmehn @aliiikareed @jennwonwoo @toplinehyunjin

[grapejuicenharry]

Angel

Harry and Y/N are best friends— except they have feelings for each other (4k words)

warnings : smut 18+, fluff, kissing, grinding, jealous h

read part 2 of angel here

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆ . ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶. ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶ ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶

Harry really liked—no, loved—Y/N, but he would never admit it to her. She was his best friend, and he couldn’t imagine a day without her. She was like sunshine in his life, someone he could always rely on.

“Harry, my feet hurt,” Y/N whined beside him, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glassy from one too many drinks. They were walking back from a party thrown by one of Harry’s friends, Alex. It was his birthday, and even though Harry and Y/N hadn’t planned to attend, today had been their last exam of the semester. That called for celebratory drinks after all the hard work they’d put in. Sleepless, stressful nights spent preparing for exams, completing assignments, and submitting papers—it had all been overwhelming, and tonight felt like the ideal way to finally blow off some steam.

“Didn’t I warn you about those heels?” he asked, amusement lacing his voice as he raised an eyebrow. He knew those heels always gave her trouble and told her to wear something more comfortable, but Y/N, being Y/N, never listened.

“Yeah, but they make me look sexy, and I wanted to be tall enough to at least reach your neck,” she replied absentmindedly.

“Well, guess that means I’m carrying you the rest of the way,” Harry said, and before she could protest, he hoisted her up onto his shoulders.

“Harry, my dress is too short! I’m going to flash everyone,” Y/N laughed, though there was no real concern in her voice.

Harry chuckled, placing his hand carefully to keep her covered. Besides, the streets were almost empty at 2 a.m., and there was hardly anyone around to notice.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Y/N met Harry on the first day of college. She was nervous and eager to make friends. Hurrying to her seat, she noticed Harry sitting next to her. The first thing she saw was his mop of curly hair, and she thought he was incredibly cute. He looked so innocent and nerdy in his black-rimmed glasses. He was just too adorable.

He wore a white T-shirt that highlighted his bulging biceps, with tattoos peeking through. Suddenly, Y/N found herself wanting to see every tattoo that adorned his beautiful body. She was so curious and lost in her thoughts about him that she didn’t realize Harry was, in fact, looking at her.

Harry thought he was dreaming as he looked at Y/N. She seemed like an angel, a beautiful one at that. She wore a cute white hoodie adorned with pink bows, and her curly hair framed her lovely face perfectly. What captivated him the most were her eyes; they were alluring, radiant, and a luminous shade of dark brown. Next were her luscious pink lips, so full and plump that he suddenly wanted to kiss them and taste them. He wondered if they tasted like berries or cherries, secretly hoping they tasted like cherries, his favorite fruit.

“Do you have an extra pen?” Y/N asked in a hushed voice. “I forgot to bring my pouch,” she added with a little pout.

“Y-yeah, yeah,” Harry replied, fixing his glasses, clearing his throat, and answering in a hoarse voice. He couldn’t believe she was actually talking to him.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Later that day, they sat together at lunch, talking as if hours had passed. Y/N was so grateful to have found someone as kind as Harry, who listened to every word she said with such intent. They chatted about random topics, like their favorite TV shows and ice cream flavors. When Harry revealed that his favorite flavor was mint chocolate chip, Y/N made a weird face.

“Shut up—no, don’t you dare say it!” Harry exclaimed, amused.

“But it tastes like toothpaste!” Y/N whined playfully.

“No, it does not!” Harry shot back. Y/N made a mental note to convince Harry to try every other flavor until he grew to hate mint chocolate chip.

They soon became inseparable—best friends. Harry didn’t realize just how much he had started to like Y/N until it was almost too late. He thought frequently about confessing his true feelings, but there never seemed to be the right moment. He cherished the friendship they had, and the thought of losing her terrified him to his core. So he kept those feelings hidden, bottled up, and accepted her as his best friend.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Harry set Y/N down on the couch when they reached her apartment. He kneeled down to take off her heels. “Ouch, slowly please,” YN whined.

“I am never letting you wear these stupid shoes again. Your feet are all red and swollen,” Harry countered, looking genuinely concerned. He hated seeing Y/N in pain. He wanted to protect her from everything and keep her safe in his cocoon—just him and Y/N.

He then carefully carried a sleepy Y/N to her bedroom and started looking for a comfortable shirt for her to wear. After finding a suitable shirt, he went to the bathroom to grab her makeup wipes and returned to find half-asleep Y/N lying on the bed. “Sweetheart, this will only take two minutes, I promise.” He began wiping her face gently.

After getting Y/N all ready for bed, Harry changed his own clothes. Y/N had “borrowed” too many of his shirts, but honestly, he never minded it. In fact, he secretly liked when Y/N wore his clothes. She looked breathtaking in his oversized shirt paired with her tiny shorts, which made Harry lose his mind.

“Come to bed and cuddle me; I need to sleep,” Y/N grumbled, rubbing her tired eyes.

“Coming, sweetheart, just two minutes,” Harry replied with a smile. He knew how grumpy Y/N got when she was sleepy. He quickly climbed into bed, set his glasses on the side table, and pulled her to his side. Cuddled next to him, Harry didn’t mind being the big spoon. He loved having Y/N molded to his side—the sweet scent of her hair, which smelled like strawberries on a sunny day, and the soft skin that felt like vanilla sundae. He adored every inch of her. Whenever he was with her, he felt like he was on cloud nine. Everything around him was rainbows and sunshine; she made everything look like it was through rose-tinted glasses.

But Harry also loved being the little spoon. There were days when he just wanted to be held, and honestly, Y/N loved having him like that—clingy, needy, like a cute little puppy.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

One day, Harry arrived at Y/N’s apartment looking extremely worn out. Y/N was lying on the bed, comfortably engrossed in her favorite novel. She grew concerned upon seeing Harry. 

“I am so exhausted, and my head hurts,” Harry exclaimed, throwing his bag on the floor. “I had to sit in Professor Martin’s class for two hours, plus I had a psychology presentation today,” he stated tiredly while rubbing his drowsy eyes behind his frames. 

“Oh no, I’m so sorry you had such a long day, baby. Come on, lie down, and I’ll massage your head,” Y/N replied, removing the blanket from her lap. Harry immediately climbed onto the bed and dropped his head in Y/N’s lap. She carefully removed his glasses and placed them on the side table before starting to massage his head.

She threaded her fingers in his curls, scratching his head lightly, rubbing, and applying just the right amount of pressure. Harry let out a soft moan as he could already feel the tension melting away, his body instinctively relaxing further into her lap.

 “Feels amazing,” he murmured, his voice slightly muffled against her legs. 

As her skilled fingers glided over his scalp, working their magic and easing the stress that had built up after a long week. 

Y/N smiled, enjoying the way he melted under her touch. She varied her movements, alternating between gentle rubs and firmer pressure, focusing on the areas where he seemed to carry the most stress. Her fingers danced through his hair, and she leaned forward slightly to whisper, “You deserve this. Just relax.”

After what seemed like hours of massaging, Y/N realized Harry had fallen soundly asleep on her lap. His face looked peaceful, with his eyes closed and soft snores slipping through his pretty pouty lips. He looked so adorable, and Y/N couldn’t help but wish she could freeze time to savor this moment longer.

Knowing Harry would probably complain about his back in the morning, she gently shifted him, lifting his head from her lap and placing it on a pillow. His brows furrowed slightly, so she soothingly rubbed his forehead, trying to smooth away any lingering tension. Half asleep, Harry instinctively moved closer, wrapping his arms around Y/N’s waist and nuzzling his face against her boobs. His personal pillow: He always has the best sleep whenever she holds him. Y/N smiled down at him. His curls tickled her jaw, and she couldn't resist leaning down to plant a soft kiss on his head.

“Goodnight, sleepyhead,” Y/N whispered, smiling at Harry, who had already drifted back into a peaceful slumber.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Harry was never the jealous type—at least, not until Y/N came into his life. but right now he cant help but a bitter sensation rises up his throat when he sees yn with Jacob. A total douchebag who flirts with every girl in the college, Standing next to Y/N, too closely according to harry. Harry had come to find Y/N so they could grab tacos at their favorite spot, but instead, he’s witnessing this. Does Y/N like him? Does she have a crush on him that he doesn’t know about? What if Y/N is interested in him and wants to end her friendship with Harry? Will she forget about him? All these questions overwhelm Harry’s mind at the sight. No, no—Y/N was only his. His best friend, his angel, his sweetheart. She would never do something like this. His chest suddenly started burning at such thoughts. 

Jacob says something which makes Y/N burst into laughter. His chest tightens at the sight. He wants to be the only person to make yn laugh like that. He curses inwardly that jacob gets to experience the sweet melody of her laughter, her laugh that can instantly brighten up the room with warmth and sunshine. He thinks to himself, Does Jacob know her eyes crinkle whenever she laughs? or how the mole under her right eye disappears when she laughs because of the fullness of her cheeks? 

“Oi, whatchu looking at?” Y/N snapped her fingers in front of Harry’s face. He hadn’t realized she had come over and was talking to him. “You look like you could kill someone,” she teased, giggling as she spoke to him. 

“Was that Jacob talking to you?” Harry asked, trying to sound casual even though he was fuming inside. “Yeah, he wanted my chemistry notes because apparently he spilled coffee on his,” Y/N replied, wrapping her arm around Harry's as they walked together. 

“Did you give them to him?” Harry asked, mentally cursing Jacob and hoping she hadn’t. 

“No, obviously I know he just wanted an excuse to hit on me. I’m not dumb,” Y/N exclaimed, rolling her eyes. “Besides, you know I don’t like sharing my notes with anyone except for you, because you know how to take care of them.” She chided and planted a kiss on Harry’s cheek. His face instantly heated. 

“Good,” Harry whispered quietly, fixing his glasses, looking at the ground, too embarrassed to hide the blush of his cheek and unable to suppress a smile at the thought of Y/N rejecting that jerk. 

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Harry loves when Y/N gets touchy like this with him. When randomly she hugs him, kisses him on his cheek, forehead, or settles on his lap while watching a movie. Her spontaneous kisses leave a soft tingle on his skin, and he can’t help but smile every time she curls up in his lap. It’s in these moments he feels closest to her, as if every touch and every kiss is a silent confession of how much she means to him. His arm instinctively wraps around her waist, pulling her in a little tighter, enjoying the way she fits perfectly against him. The movie on the screen fades into the background; all he can focus on is the warmth of her body and the way she makes him feel—like he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be. It all feels so natural. And they never have those awkward moments because they both love these touches. Whenever yn touches him, he feels electricity buzzing through him, in a good way. His skin feels like jello and his heart is thumping loudly, His brain is all muddled with goo and sparkles. 

He wants to treasure those moments forever and constantly wishes for more and more. 

It was one of those rare evenings for Harry and Y/N, Where the world seemed to quiet down just for them. They had just finished with their midterms and needed this for the longest time. Dim yellow lights, a bottle of red wine sitting on the table, a soft record player playing in the background. Legs tangled under the blanket as Harry and Y/N sat closer to each other, just enjoying each other’s presence. The warmth of Yn’s body pressed against him felt like home.

Harry’s fingers absentmindedly played with a strand of Y/N’s hair, twirling it between his fingertips. His eyes traced over her face, taking in every detail — the curve of her lips, the soft rise and fall of her chest.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” Harry whispered, his voice low and soft, his breath tickling her ear.

Y/N turned her head slightly, meeting his gaze with a soft smile and cheeks already flushed because of wine, changed into a deeper shade of red at his words. “You always say that.” Slurred her words lightly. 

“Because it’s true,” he murmured, leaning in closer, their faces just inches apart. His fingers gently tugging at her bottom lip, eyes flickering to her mouth. “And I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of telling you that.” 

For a moment, neither of them moved, the air between them thick with unspoken words and emotions. Y/N felt her heart race as Harry’s eyes locked onto hers, filled with something deeper than just affection.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Y/N tilted her head, her lips brushing against Harry’s in the softest kiss, testing the waters. It was brief- just a featherlight kiss- but enough to send a shockwave through him. Harry let out a quiet sigh, his hand moving to cup her face as he deepened the kiss, slow and tender. As he leaned in closer, Y/N gently pushed his glasses up onto his forehead, making it easier for them to get lost in each other. Suddenly, he realized what he had done.

Harry pulled back immediately, his eyes wide with surprise at his own action.

“Sorry,” he blurted out, his voice panicked. “I don’t know why I did that.”

Y/N blinked, her cheeks flushing, but there was no trace of anger or discomfort on her face. Instead, she smiled softly, a warmth blooming in her chest at his sudden vulnerability. “No, Harry… It’s okay.”

Harry’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure? I didn’t mean—”

“Harry,” Y/N interrupted gently, her voice barely a whisper as she moved closer, her hand resting on his cheek. “It’s okay, I want this, I promise.”

Harry couldn’t quite grasp what was happening—it all felt too surreal, like something straight out of his dreams. Yet, here it was, playing out in real time. In the blink of an eye, Y/N tossed the blanket aside and straddled his lap. Her hands slid up his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through his shirt as she pressed closer to him, wanting to be as near as possible. Her fingers trailed up his chest, feeling the heat radiating through his shirt, before cradling his face. Without hesitation, she pulled him into a deep kiss.

Harry was still trying to make sense of it all, but instinctively, his hands found their place—one tangling in her hair, the other resting gently on her neck.

The kiss was slow, tender, and filled with all the emotions that had been simmering under the surface for so long. His lips were soft, and she could taste the faint hint of wine on them. Their lips molded perfectly, like it was meant to be. Time seemed to blur. It must have been five minutes, or five hours; neither of them knew. It was a heated blend of tongue, teeth, and lips. 

Y/N’s hand reached for the hem of his shirt, lifting it. Harry pulled back, catching his breath, resting his forehead against hers. His heart pounded, blood rushing south; he was so hard, making him ache beneath her. 

“Can I take off your top, baby?” He whispered, his breath warm against her jaw as he kissed and nipped at it.

“Yes, yes, please,” she murmured, and that was all the permission Harry needed. He swiftly pulled off her shirt—his shirt—and eagerly ran his hands over her smooth, soft skin. 

“So soft, your skin is so soft,” he murmured, his hands working behind her, unclasping her bra. 

Her tits were a piece of art—Round, so full and perfectly perky. His large hands cup them, gently rolling the nipple between his fingers. 

Now she sat only straddling him in her thin, barely there sleeping shorts; she could feel his hard cock beneath her, thick and throbbing, nudging her entrance. Her dampness was seeping through both of their shorts. A delicious remainder, how much she wanted him. He could feel her cunt fluttering around nothing, desperate for him. 

 Harry had to shut his eyes and  take  a few steady breaths as his chest rose and fell with anticipation. Slowly, he leaned forward, prepping light kisses along the curve of her breast. Y/N moaned softly, arching her back, giving him more access to her boobs. He latched onto her nipple, sucking lightly, while his free hand teased her other breast, tugging and rolling the sensitive nub. Y/N hips began to move instinctively, grinding against him, writhing on his cock couldn’t help but start grinding, writhing on his lap.  

"Feels good," she murmured, eyes closed as  she gently took his glasses from his head and placed them on the couch next to them, her fingers threaded through his messy curls. His cock twitched beneath her, nudging her clit, and she could feel her body growing even wetter, soaking through the fabric that separated them. Harry kept switching between her breasts, his mouth worshipping each one as he sucked harder, sending jolts of pleasure through her core.

Making her more drenched 

“Just like that, ride me Y/N” Harry growled, his voice low and demanding. His hands slid from her breast to her waist, guiding her movements. Making her move forward and backward, her clothed, dripping core dragged across his cock, making them both shiver with need. His tattoos peeked through as he finally tugged his shirt off, revealing his inked chest - abs flexing under the butterfly, the black ink stark against his flushed, heated skin.

Y/N's fingers trailed down, dragging her nails across his chest, loving the way his tattoos twisted beneath her touch. She leaned down, biting his neck, sucking hard enough to leave a bruise. Harry groaned, loving the possessiveness of it—her mark on him. He was hers. 

“You’re doing so good, Angel” he murmured, nipping her ear. Harry was a complete mess beneath her. His eyes glossy, pupils blown away with lust, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, lips slick and swollen from their kisses. He looks so sexy, Y/N leaned forward, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth, swallowing each other’s  moans while increasing her pace. 

He could not believe Y/N was on top of him, grinding against his cock, her sweet little moans filling the air. He was sure he’d reached heaven. He glanced down between them, seeing the wet patch her arousal had left on his shorts, mixed with his own pre cum. 

As Y/N ground herself against him, her clit dragged over the thick length of his cock, and each upward motion had his tip grazing her entrance. The feeling made them both shiver. Her blunt nails dug into his shoulders as her eyes squeezed shut in bliss, her lip caught between her teeth, trying to hold back a whimper. 

Harry slid his hand down, rubbing her clit with his thumb in slow, tight circles, giving her that extra bit of pleasure she craved. “I want you to feel good, baby,” he whispered, his fingers working faster, determined to push her over the edge. His angel deserved to feel good. 

Y/N threw her head back, overwhelmed by the sensation. “I’m gonna cum,” she whimpered meekly, her voice shaking. Harry quickened his pace, his fingers pressing into her clit with just the right amount of pressure. “Cum for me, baby,” he urged, his voice thick and desperate.

Y/N cries out as her orgasm rips through her, the coil in her belly finally exploding, sending waves of pleasure through her entire body. She felt like she was floating—fireworks and butterflies all at once. 

She has never cum so hard in her life. Her fingers never did the job, and vibrators were too boring for her. 

Below her, she feels Harry twitching. He buries  his face in her neck, biting down a patch of her skin to stifle his own moan as he reached the brink. Both arms wrapped around her waist, his eyes shut, loud and desperate whimpers falling from his lips. 

“That’s it, honey,” Y/N cooed, her voice soft and soothing, threading her fingers through his damp curls as she continued to ride him. She could feel him shaking beneath her as his orgasm finally hit, releasing with a loud groan as his body went rigid. His vision blurred, ears ringing, as the bliss overwhelmed him completely. He felt like he was in paradise, his body melting into hers.

For a moment, they just stayed like that—foreheads pressed together, hearts beating in sync, both of them coming down from their highs. Still trying to make sense of what just happened. Harry let out a breathy laugh, looking for his glasses and placing them again on his face. He brushed a strand of hair from her face. “You’re amazing,” he whispered, still catching his breath.

Y/N smiled down at him, her fingers tracing the tattoos on his chest, loving how warm he felt under her touch. “And you’re a mess,” she teased softly, laughing with him. Harry grinned, pulling her closer.

"Yeah, but I’m your mess," he murmured, kissing her softly, the intimacy between them palpable.

They stayed like that, in each other’s arms, exchanging gentle kisses. “I want this with you, Y/N” Harry whispered, “I’m tired of pretending I don’t feel something for you. That I don’t feel this whenever I’m around you.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, her eyes widening as his words hit her. She opened her mouth to respond, but no sound came out.

Harry pressed on, the confession spilling out of him like a flood. “I’ve been holding back because I didn’t want to ruin us. You’re my best friend, Y/N. The most important person in my life, and I was terrified of messing that up. But tonight... it just felt right. It always felt right with you.” 

The air hung heavy between them, the weight of his confession pulling her down, making her chest tighten. Y/N swallowed hard, her mind racing. She had always felt something too—always pushed it aside, too afraid of what it would mean for them and for their friendship. But now that it was out there, she couldn’t run from it anymore.

Harry’s eyes softened behind his glasses,  his heart racing a mile a minute. He had finally said it—the words he never thought he’d be able to voice, yet they spilled out of him because he couldn’t hold them in any longer. He had to tell Y/N everything. 

But he still didn’t know if she felt the same, if she liked—no, loved—him back. And though the thought of her rejecting him terrified him, he was ready for it. His heart would shatter into a million pieces, but he would respect her decision, even if it meant she wanted him out of her life completely. It would hurt—of course, it would—but the idea of staying by her side and making her uncomfortable hurt even more.

He braced himself for her response, never expecting what she would say next.

 “I love you, Harry. I think I’ve loved you for a long time... but I was too much of a coward to confess it,” Y/N murmured, her eyes glistening with tears. “All this time, I didn’t want to lose you, so I just... ignored it. But tonight? It meant everything. I want this with you too.”

She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around him, resting her head on his chest. She could hear his heart pounding beneath her ear. 

“I always thought you had a thing for Emma from our sociology class,” Y/N added with a teary giggle, realizing how silly it sounded now.

Harry’s brows furrowed in confusion. Emma? He had never thought of her as more than a classmate. His friends had mentioned once or twice that Emma might have a crush on him, but he’d never taken it seriously. His focus had always been on Y/N.

Before he could explain, Y/N cut him off. “But now I get it—you don’t like her. It was probably just my insecurities talking,” she said softly, her eyes dropping to her lap as she fidgeted with her fingers, a nervous habit of hers.

“Baby, Y/N, look at me,” Harry gently commanded. “I had no idea you were worrying about all of this. Emma? I’ve probably spoken to her five times at most, and I don’t like her that way at all. You have nothing to be insecure about.” He cupped her jaw tenderly, his thumb brushing her cheek. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, my angel. The only girl I love and care about.”

Harry's thumb continued to stroke Y/N's cheek gently, his eyes soft and unwavering as he held her gaze. “You’re everything to me, Y/N. I’ve never even thought about anyone else the way I think about you. It’s always been you.”

Her breath hitched at his words, the insecurity that had weighed her down for so long now starting to lift. She opened her mouth to say something, but Harry wasn’t finished. His other hand slid down to cradle her waist, pulling her more closer if that was possible. They were basically molded together. 

“I love the way you say my name; I love how you play with my rings whenever you get nervous; I love the way you get excited over little things; I love the way you get grumpy whenever you are hungry; I love the way you look at me when you think I am not paying attention. And I love you; don’t ever want you to doubt that, okay?” 

Y/N felt warmth flood her chest as his words washed over her. She’d spent so long overthinking everything, never realizing that Harry had been feeling the same all along.

She blinked back the last of her tears, smiling up at him. “I don’t know why I thought otherwise,” she whispered, her voice shaky but full of emotion.

Harry pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering there. “Because you care so much,” he murmured against her skin. “And that’s one of the things I love about you.”

Y/N leaned into his embrace, feeling safe and cherished in his arms. the tension in her body melting away.

Harry resting his chin on the top of her head. “But now, no more hiding, yeah? No more overthinking or doubting. It’s just us now. I’m yours, and I’ve always been.”

Y/N tilted her head back to look at him, her smile widening as her fingers laced through his. “Just us,” she repeated softly.

Harry’s heart swelled as he brought her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles softly. “Just us,” he echoed, his voice a gentle promise.

[sapphicandgraphic]

Sick As A Dog—Chapter 2

Summary: You’re a dog walker. When your favorite clients notice you’re not feeling well, they insist on taking care of you.

Chapter: 2/? In which the healing properties of bubble baths and movie nights are intimately explored!

Warnings: Mostly still fluff and sick!fic hurt/comfort with a couple moments of explicit sexual tension and mutual longing thrown in. Also some allusions to parental loss, family drama, runaway experiences. Reader struggles with accepting help, relying on others.

A/N: Thank you to everyone for reading and commenting and getting in touch to request the next chapter! I worked really hard to turn this around ASAP, and I’m planning to continue this story since it’s striking a chord with people. If you want to show me some love, please subscribe to my Patreon channel — you can vote on what happens next, and get early access to future chapter updates!

Natasha placed her hand at the small of your back, guiding you into the bathroom. Immediately the bright, invigorating smell of eucalyptus and citrus filled your lungs. Tendrils of steam curled up from the hot bath she’d drawn, the humidity soothing your scratchy throat. Even your headache seemed to diminish slightly.

Natasha turned and busied herself at a linen drawer near the sink, retrieving a fresh wash cloth and towel. You eyed the massive freestanding tub longingly. The other woman had already added a generous amount of soap, and there was a thick layer of bubbles. You quickly shimmied out of your bra and boxers, then slipped into the water. The relief was instant, overwhelming.

“Fuck me,” you moaned, sinking down into the warmth.

Natasha dropped the washcloth she was holding, her mouth going dry at the raw, wrecked sound of your voice.

“Uh, I should call ‘Lena,” she stammered, backpedaling away from the sink with none of her usual catlike grace. “Let her know you’re here.”

“Kay,” you said, eyelids heavy. You didn’t notice the pink tint in her cheeks, the way she hurried out of the bathroom. The only thing you cared about was the awful chill in your bones retreating inch by inch, your tense muscles relaxing.

Natasha stepped out into the bedroom and ran a hand over her flushed face. Get it together, Romanoff.

She had just dialed Yelena when Wanda walked in. She was holding a bottle of Tylenol and a glass of ice water. Her dark eyes scanned the room instantly, looking for you.

“Where’s our little wolf?”

Nat pointed toward the bathroom.

“Is she behaving?” Wanda asked, kissing her wife on the cheek. Then she lowered her voice, threading a hand through Nat’s hair and tugging softly. “Are you?”

Natasha barely suppressed a groan just as the line stopped ringing. “H-Hey, it’s me! What? I don’t sound weird. You sound weird.”

Nat glared at Wanda, who just laughed and knocked softly on the bathroom door before stepping inside.

She expected to find you lounging in the tub, but you were nowhere to be seen. The surface of the bathwater was still, ominous. She called your name, moving quickly across the room. In an instant, her hands were outstretched, ready to plunge into the water. But then your head resurfaced. You flicked your hair out of your eyes, surprised to see Wanda standing so close.

“What?” You coughed.

A small crown of bubbles adorned your wet hair. Water trailed down your smooth skin in rivulets, gathering between your lips. Your pink tongue darted out, licking the beads away, and Wanda felt her heart flutter at the sight.

“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head slightly.

“You thought I drowned in a bathtub,” you accused, feeling a twinge of exasperation in your foggy brain.

Wanda twisted her mouth to one side, like she was trying not to laugh. “Maybe,” she admitted.

“Y’know,” you said, petulance creeping into your voice. “This ‘little wolf’ managed to survive for the past 24 years without anyone’s help.”

Your headstrong claim was slightly undermined by the mountain of suds around you. A rubber ducky wouldn’t have been out of place. But Wanda kept this particular observation to herself.

“So,” she said instead. “You heard that.”

“I’m delirious, not deaf.” You eyed her curiously. “Why little wolf?”

She knelt beside the tub, leaning against the ceramic edge. “First, take these,” she instructed, depositing a couple of pills into your hand. “They should reduce your fever and help with the ache in your muscles.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “How did you know…”

Wanda just smiled that mysterious smile of hers. You accepted the medicine gratefully and took a drink of cool water.

”I can’t remember how it started exactly,” Wanda murmured. “I suppose it’s because when we first met you…you seemed a bit of a loner.”

You ducked your head, considering this assessment. You tended to keep your guard up around new people. Not unfriendly…just careful.

“Wolves are actually pack animals, you know?” Wanda continued, reaching out to grip your chin, drawing your attention back to her. “They need each other to survive.”

She held your gaze for a long moment. You felt a funny ache in your chest that had nothing to do with your fever. Something warm and tender was rising up, something long dormant. The way Wanda was watching you—so patient, like your trust was something worth waiting for—made your heart flicker with hope, longing.

Before you could think of what to say, Natasha came back in the room. She waggled her cell phone. “Yelena wants to talk to you directly,” she said, perching on the edge of the tub beside her wife. “Claims she needs proof of life.”

Wanda stood up, drying her hands on a towel.

“Dinner will be ready in half an hour,” she announced, ghosting a hand over Natasha’s bicep. “You’re on lifeguard duty.”

Her wife winked at her, then handed you the phone.

“Hello?” You braced for Yelena’s usual tirade.

“So it’s true,” she said. “You’re shacking up with my sisters.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting a blush. “They kidnapped me, alright?”

Yelena laughed. “That’s not what I heard.”

You glared as Yelena recited her sister’s version of events. “I didn’t faint,” you hissed, flicking water at Natasha. “Stop telling people that. I just…lost my balance or something.”

“You don’t remember, because you were unconscious, because you fainted.” Yelena’s flat voice rumbled through the phone speaker, sounding far too smug.

“Whatever,” you sighed. “The point is, I’m fine now. Just waiting for the storm to pass.”

“Do me a favor,” Yelena said, exasperated. “Just let them spoil you for a bit, okay? Enjoy the high thread count and the gourmet food. It’s one of the only real perks to being in this cuckoo crazy family.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but nothing came out. Instead, a silly smile worked its way across your face as you processed her words: being in this family. Something about that phrase felt so good, so right.

“This bubble bath is really nice,” you finally muttered, realizing the silence had stretched on a beat too long.

“Bubble bath?” Yelena repeated. “Are you in the big tub? Come on, Nat never lets me use the big tub!”

You winced, handing the phone back to Natasha. “I may have said too much.”

The older woman held the phone away from her head. “You’re breaking up, ‘Lena! We’ll call you later! Gotta go.”

Nat ended the call and sank down beside the tub, running her fingers through the warm water to check the temp. Then she reached out, playing with a strand of your hair, gently twirling it around her pointer finger.

“Want some help with this?” She asked.

The question caught you off guard. You blinked, slowly, brain catching up to her words.

“Sure,” you said.

Natasha leaned over, grabbing a shampoo bottle and lathering a dollop between her hands.

“Sit up,” she instructed.

You complied, giving her better access. Nat gathered your hair to one side and began massaging the base of your scalp. Your eyes slipped closed and you sighed as her fingers threaded through your hair. Nat swallowed. From this angle, she couldn’t help admiring your broad shoulders. Then she glanced lower, where the swell of your breasts was just visible above the bubbles.

The older woman cleared her throat. She cast around for a conversation starter.

“Where did you grow up?”

You didn’t open your eyes, and for a moment Natasha wondered if you had drifted off. Then finally you answered.

“Middle of nowhere.”

A non-answer. Natasha followed your lead and didn’t press. A few more seconds passed in silence before she tried a different approach.

“What brought you to New York?”

You laughed, a humorless hollow sound that made Natasha’s skin prickle with alarm. “I came here to disappear.”

She stilled, processing your quiet confession. Something about the statement rang piercingly true, and she got the immediate impression that you hadn’t meant to say it at all. Her suspicion was confirmed when your eyes snapped open a second later.

“Sorry,” you said. “Fevers make me talk too much.”

But it was more than that. Something about the warm bath water and Natasha’s patient expression made you feel safe enough to keep talking.

“Don’t apologize,” she said. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.”

You gathered a few bubbles between your hands, playing idly with the suds.

“I watched a lot of movies when I was a kid,” you said. “All the characters were always running off to New York. The place where anything could happen. You could get a fresh start, reinvent yourself. So when I was sixteen I bought a bus ticket and never looked back.“

Natasha’s hand stilled.

“Sixteen? How did your parents feel about that?”

“No idea,” you sighed, eyes slipping shut again. “My mom died when I was born, and my dad...”

Blamed me. Hated me. Couldn’t stand to be in the same room as me. You swallowed, fighting not to be dragged back into memories you had worked so hard to forget. Natasha’s hand slipped down, gripping your shoulders and massaging you gently, like she could sense your turmoil. You groaned in appreciation as she kneaded the tender muscles carefully.

“He wasn’t around a lot,” you finished. Natasha could sense there was more to the story.

“That must have been hard,” she murmured.

“Nahhhhhh.” Your objection elongated into a moan of pleasure as she hit a sensitive spot. “I liked the freedom. No one to answer to.”

Natasha could just picture you at sixteen, arriving in Port Authority with nothing but a duffel bag and a desire to prove everyone wrong. Clearly you were street smart, resourceful. But the city could be a hard, unforgiving place for runaways. She felt a sudden irrational wave of panic for that young girl. Who would notice if she got hurt, got lost along the way?

Natasha shook her head, told herself she was being silly. After all, you were right here. Safe and sound. All grown up. Still, she wished she could somehow reach back in time and protect you.

Natasha rinsed your hair, careful to avoid getting soap in your eyes. Then she started massaging conditioner into your scalp. You leaned into her touch.

“Feels so good.” Your voice was barely more than a whisper. “Thanks, Nat.”

Natasha smiled, still focused on her task but hanging on your every word.

“You’re very welcome,” she said. “Little wolf.”

When your hair was finally clean and detangled, Natasha stood and brought you a towel, a white fluffy robe.

“Dry off,” she said. “I’ll find you some fresh clothes.”

She disappeared into the bedroom as you reluctantly climbed out of the tub. Your skin was soft and warm from the hot water. Almost immediately, you started shivering again. You toweled off quickly and pulled the robe on, luxuriating in the soft fabric.

The late afternoon sky had darkened with even more storm clouds, and the bedroom was bathed in soft amber lamp light when you joined Natasha. You looked around properly for the first time. A king-size mattress dominated the center of the room, but there was also a lounging sofa tucked beneath an enormous bay window on the far wall beside a book case.

It wasn’t until Natasha emerged from the walk-in closet carrying black cashmere joggers and a matching hoodie that it clicked. You weren’t standing in a guest room, as you had originally assumed, but in their bedroom. Where they slept. Where they…

An image suddenly flashed through your mind, of Natasha between Wanda’s legs, worshipping the other woman with her mouth, her fingers, her tongue. Wanda’s head thrown back, face slack with pleasure, auburn hair fanned out across the pillow. You tried to ignore the flare of heat in the pit of your stomach.

“What?” You blinked, realizing Natasha had just said something.

She gave you a worried look.

“I said, you’re a little taller than Wanda, but I think these should work.”

Natasha hung your towel and robe up in the bathroom while you got dressed. The clothes were a perfect fit, extremely soft against your tender skin. Plus, they smelled like Wanda’s perfume. Sandalwood and bergamot.

“Ready?”

Nat wrapped an arm around your waist and guided you downstairs. You would normally have shrugged her off, but as soon as you hit the landing, a wave of exhaustion jackknifed through your body. It was actually a little frightening to feel so weak, and you clung to her arm.

“We should take your temperature,” Nat said, feeling the unnatural heat of your fever still rolling off your back.

“Kay,” you said, leaning against her more heavily with every step. She deposited you carefully in a chair at the dining room table.

“I think there’s a thermometer in the medicine cabinet,” she said. “You’ll be ok for a second?”

You laughed despite the pain in your throat. But the look in her eyes was so sincere you couldn’t bring yourself to tease her. “Yeah, Nat,” you said. “I’ll be ok.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes. She pointed a finger at you. “Don’t go anywhere.”

You leaned forward, closing your tired eyes. “I wound’t make it very far.”

Natasha ducked into the hallway.

“Wands?” She called, rummaging in a closet. “Where’s that thermometer?”

The other woman appeared a few moments later, insinuating herself into the search. “Let me,” she said. “You set the table and serve dinner.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Nat purred, smacking her wife on the ass as she walked away.

Wanda found the thermometer and made a beeline for the dining room. You were hunched on the table, head bowed slightly, eyes pinched together. She frowned, and immediately dimmed the overhead lights.

You blinked, looking up at her gratefully. “Thanks.”

Wanda didn’t say anything, just watched you with those owlish eyes—like she could peer into your soul. She pushed the damp hair off your forehead. You gravitated toward her feather light touch, feeling your stomach flip pleasantly at having her undivided attention.

“Open,” she said.

Your lips parted automatically and she placed the thermometer in your mouth.

“Good girl.”

For a second you stared up at her, dumbstruck by how beautiful she was. The kind of beauty that armies went to war for. The kind of beauty that heroes and gods braved the underworld for. And here she was, absently playing with the baby hairs at the nape of your neck, like she had nothing better to do.

Natasha appeared a few moments later, breaking your feverish reverie. Guilt and shame instantly gathered in your chest. They were married. You had no right to be pining like a puppy dog at their table, looking for scraps of affection.

“Dinner is served,” Nat said with a smile.

A wonderful aroma—salty, savory—drifted into the room with her. The large serving dish in her hands was steaming slightly. She set it down and began ladling the hearty stew into bowls. Then she carved a loaf of bread into slices.

The thermometer beeped and Wanda withdrew it from your mouth. “101.4,” she said with a frown.

Natasha sat down across the table. “I think we should call him.”

You picked up your spoon, stomach growling. “Call who?”

“Careful, sweetheart,” Wanda cautioned as she took the seat directly beside you. “It’s hot.”

You blew on the spoonful of stew dutifully, looking to Wanda for approval. She nodded and you took a bite.

The broth was rich and flavorful with a little undercurrent of spice. You tasted carrots, peas, celery, chicken, and some type of noodle. It instantly soothed your scratchy throat, spreading warmth through your chest.

“Strange?” Wanda asked, tucking into her own food.

Natasha nodded, tearing her bread into pieces and dunking one in her own bowl.

“What’s strange?” You asked in between bites.

Wanda chuckled. “Not a what, a who.”

You furrowed your brow. Sometimes it felt like these women spoke their own secret language.

“I’ll see if he has any availability tomorrow,” Natasha said, reaching for her phone. Before she could send the email, a weather alert illuminated the screen. “Whoa, flash flood warning for lower Manhattan.”

As if on cue, a clap of thunder rolled overhead. “Guess you’re staying here tonight.”

You felt your stomach tighten anxiously.

“No, I should go,” you said, reluctantly pushing back your unfinished bowl of food as your appetite failed. “I’ve taken up enough of your Friday night.”

Wanda leaned back in her chair, taking a sip of wine as she regarded you with a thoughtful gaze. For the first time, it occurred to her that maybe she and Nat had read this whole situation completely wrong. “Do we make you uncomfortable, little wolf?”

Her tone was quiet, curious.

“What?” You nearly choked on your water. “No, of course not! You’ve been so generous, made me feel so….”

Wanted. Loved. Safe. You clasped your hands in your lap, afraid you’d say something you might regret, and you missed the look that passed between Wanda and Nat.

“I just don’t want to overstay my welcome,” you said shakily, trying to reign in your emotions.

Wanda reached out, tracing a finger along your jawline until you raised your head and met her gaze. “That would be impossible,” she said firmly. “Do you understand?”

Her gray, piercing eyes seemed to pin you to the chair. You swallowed, wanting to believe her.

“I don’t understand,” you admitted quietly, because that was the truth. No one had ever offered to take care of you like this, unconditionally. “But I believe you.”

Nat’s lips quirked into a hopeful grin. “So you’ll stay?”

You nodded.

Wanda tucked your hair behind your ear, clearly pleased. “Good,” she said. “Now, do you think you can finish your dinner?“

You glanced at the half-eaten bowl uncertainly. Your hunger had vanished.

“Stomach kinda hurts,” you said. “Sorry.”

Wanda looked torn. On the one hand, she guessed (correctly) that you hadn’t been eating enough lately. But she also didn’t want to pressure you.

“Just a couple more bites,” she encouraged. “You need your strength, milaya.”

When you didn’t move, she picked up your spoon and scooted her chair closer to yours. “For me?”

You couldn’t deny her anything when she asked so sweetly. “You don’t play fair,” you groused.

Wanda laughed. “Is that a yes?”

You nodded, and she brought the first bite to your lips. Letting her feed you should have been humiliating. But pride required energy, and you had precious little of that.

Wanda smiled. Getting to baby someone who was usually so self-reliant was a special privilege, one she didn’t take lightly. Especially considering she didn’t know when you might indulge her like this again.

Natasha watched you both from across the table. There were dozens of things she loved about Wanda. But it was this—her ability to be firm and gentle in the same breath—that always left her speechless. It was like a superpower.

Wanda wiped the corner of your mouth with her finger. You scrunched up your face at Nat, trying to look threatening. “Not a word to Yelena,” you managed hoarsely.

Natasha grinned. “Our secret,” she said. “Scout’s honor.”

When Wanda was satisfied you’d eaten enough, she sat back and sipped the last of her wine. The sound of rain on the roof created a pleasant white noise. Your throat was a little less scratchy and your headache had receded. Maybe the meds had finally kicked in. The delirious fever feeling was still there, making your emotions spike and dip in unpredictable patterns. But with a full belly and a warm bed waiting upstairs, you felt a deep sense of calm and safety descend over you.

Natasha checked her watch.

“It’s still early. Why don’t you two go get comfy on the couch?” She stood up to clear the plates. “I’ll clean the kitchen and then we can…watch a movie?”

Wanda hummed noncommittally, looking at you. “I don’t know,” she hedged. “Someone looks pretty sleepy.”

“Not sleepy,” you insisted. “Wanna watch a movie.”

Natasha could tell you wouldn’t last long, but she wasn’t ready to let you out of her sight. She looked at Wanda. “Please?”

“Only if I get to pick the movie.” Wanda arched a playful eyebrow at her wife.

Natasha rocked back on her heels, considering. “Deal.”

The sofa was big and obscenely comfortable. You sank into the middle section, cushioned by several pillows. Wanda tucked a blanket around you, scolding Oscar when he leapt up and laid across your body protectively.

“He doesn’t know he’s not a lap dog,” she said, shooing him away.

“I don’t mind,” you laughed, scratching his ear.

“I know you don’t mind,” Wanda said. “But he’s not the only one who wants a cuddle.”

“Well in that case,“ you said, heart leaping at the chance to cuddle and be cuddled by Wanda Maximoff. “Get lost, Oscar.”

You gave the dog a gentle shove. He turned and licked your hand once, then moved to the far corner of the sofa and curled up in a ball.

Wanda sat down, pressing her body close against you. She fiddled with the remote, tracing her hand up and down your arm absently. The feeling of her fingertips gave you goosebumps.

“What do you like?” Her words hung in the air, open-ended. She could be talking about movies. Something told you she wasn’t.

“Whatever you like,” you replied instantly. The answer worked for either question.

Wanda’s gaze flickered to you, her smile shifting ever so slightly from fond to flirtatious. “Is that right?”

You nodded, not sure you could formulate words with the full force of her gaze leveled at you. Your faces were just inches apart, so close that you could feel her warm breath on your neck.

She looked away first. It felt like a pause, not an end, to your conversation. Wanda shifted, placing one hand on your upper thigh and giving you a gentle squeeze. You relaxed against her, letting your head fall onto her shoulder.

She scrolled through different movie titles until you saw Dirty Dancing and pointed. “Please? It’s one of my favorites.”

“Excellent choice,” Natasha said, entering the room balancing two mugs of tea and a big bowl of popcorn. “Nobody puts baby in a corner!”

Wanda wrinkled her nose in confusion. “Who is putting babies in corners?”

“Wait,” Nat said, grabbing a handful of popcorn and wedging herself in on the other side of you. Her warmth made you shiver pleasantly. “Have you never seen Dirty Dancing? How did I let this happen?”

Nat lifted the edge of the blanket, pulling it over her own legs as well. “I made you a special tonic, little wolf,” she murmured with a wink. “Honey, lemon, ginger, and a dash of cayenne pepper.”

You curled your fingers around the mug, taking a sip. “Thanks, Nat.”

“Course,” she said. “Now, are you comfortable? Need any extra pillows? Blankets?”

“No,” you laughed, burrowing against her side. “I’ve got the perfect pillow.”

Natasha smiled, settling her arm around your shoulders. She caught her wife’s eyes over your head, blew her a quick kiss. “Perfect Friday night right here.”

Wanda rolled her eyes at the other woman affectionately. “You’re such a softie,” she teased.

“Just press play, woman!” Natasha barked.

You could feel your eyelids drooping before the title credits even finished, but that didn’t bother you. You’d seen Dirty Dancing about a hundred times. The last thing you heard was the rumble of Natasha’s soft laugh as she explained the Borscht Belt to Wanda.

“Yeah, baby, like the soup,” she said.

You fell asleep with a smile still on your lips.

——————

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