#I don’t know why this scenario popped in my head

[changingplumbob]

Pancakes Household: Chapter 9, Part 11

To ditch career day... or to not ditch career day...

CW: Distressed infant

Since Tiana cannot speak her thoughts will often be in brackets

While Eliza and Bob have taken infant leave from their jobs, there is no such option for the teens. Fergus and Onyx pop their heads into the nursery where Bob is still rocking a sleeping Tiana and kiss her goodbye for the day. Then school awaits!

It looks like the Pancakes may have missed the outfit memo for today, oops. While Onyx heads off to find some friends Fergus tries to hastily finish the homework he neglected to finish. Unfortunately his friends are not much help this morning.

Anya: I look fabulous, thank you watcher

Artemisia: Are you staring at my best bracelet friend

Darwin: What? No. I was looking for the bus

Artemisia: Looking for the bus while we’re at school, unlikely

Atlas: I don’t think he meant anything by it

Fergus: Hold up- what did you guys get for 13?

Artemisia: Look dude, just keep your eyes to yourself

Darwin: Sure, and you can keep your venom to yourself

Outside the main building Onyx and Paola have some time relaxing.

Onyx: Aim for the centre

Paola: Of course I’m aiming for the centre dummy

Zhafira: Onyx! Hey! Look who caught the bus again successfully!

Zhafira approaches the pair beaming happily.

Onyx: Congrats. Did you hear they’re shuffling classes today

Zhafira looks downcast while Onyx explains the younger and older students will be having combined classes for the morning. They'll be with some of their friends but not Zhafira who seems upset at having to get to know even more new people.

As this is happening Mrs Tinker and Mrs Hensley come over and try give Paola some tips for successful throwing. Unfortunately they have contrasting opinions and in the end the teens decide the safest option is just to pretend they’ve gotten bored and head inside.

Onyx takes a quick swim before class and still manages to get to the room before the teacher begins the lesson.

Mrs T: Today we will be buddying up. Older students please join a younger student and we will begin designing a business for this scenario

Onyx: Mrs T can’t I just buddy up with Amie since she’s beside me

Mrs T: Sorry Onyx but Mr A wants to foster whole school cooperation, that's why we're having staggered classes this morning

Carson: I wish William had been put in here

Darwin: Don’t worry, we’ll see him at lunch

Carson: And I wish some outfits didn’t make my glasses vanish, it's like I've been dressed by a computer

After class wraps up Fergus goes to talk with Artemisia.

Fergus: I’m excited to see what we’ll learn this afternoon

Artemisia: *sighs* Don’t be too excited, it’s career day

Fergus: You’re not punking me, we only just started high school. There is no career day

Artemisia: I’m serious. I’m also thinking of skipping out on it

Fergus: We can do that?

Artemisia: I reckon I can, question is do you have the guts to

Fergus: Of course I do. Onyx was still feeling ill this morning so we can use that excuse to head home

Artemisia: May the best person not be caught

Back home Eliza is carrying Tiana when the infant fusses to be put down.

Eliza: Okay then, down we go

Tiana: *coos* (I coo now mother) *coos louder*

Eliza: Was that a coo? Was that a coo? I think it was *claps*

Tiana smiles and sticks her fingers in her mouth. Mother is pleased, she must be doing well. Even though mother keeps saying the word go, Tiana is happy they haven't seemed to leave the house.

Eliza is busy feeding Tiana when Fergus walks through the room.

Eliza: Hold on! What are you doing home?

Fergus: Umm, Onyx’s head got bad again so we came home so they could get a nap

Fergus walks over to the suckling infant and holds her hand for a bit. Tiana doesn't seem to grip back yet but she's looking at him curiously.

Eliza: You came home so Onyx could nap? I don’t think so. Onyx is capable of napping by themselves

Fergus: Fine, it was career day! I don’t need to worry about that yet. I’ll do extra homework tonight I promise

Eliza burps Tiana who spits up down her back.

Eliza: Ugh. it's okay honey, we can clean that up

Fergus: Want me to grab a cloth

Eliza: Please. Now I do not want you skipping school again, but since you’re here you can walk Strawberry since you're keen to help Onyx

Fergus: But I want to- *sighs* yes mother

The house is left quiet for Onyx’s nap while Bob takes Ginger for a run and Fergus takes Strawberry for a walk.

Eliza: Come on my snuggly sleeper. You get comfy back there and you can nap while mother does her run

Tiana: *coos questioningly* (wait, no, not outside! I don't want to leave) *cries* (I want to stay with mother)

Eliza: It's okay Tiana, mother is right here with you. We're just going to check out the neighbourhood huh. You'll be okay

Eliza jogs off and keeps talking to Tiana. Eventually the regular bouncing of the back carrier and the softness of Eliza's voice lull Tiana to sleep. Eliza is delighted to hear a quiet snuffling snore at her back as she runs.

Later that day...

Fergus: Dad?

Bob: Yes

Fergus: Umm, Tiana is crying. Don’t you think you should go give her a nap rather than carry her on your back

Bob: But- she’s learning with me though

Eliza: Fergus is right Bob, she’s exhausted. Better giver her to me

Bob: But I want to spend time with her

Eliza: And so you can, when she’s awake. You know she had a hard night, she needs to catch up on sleep still

Bob: *sighs* fine. Here Tiana honey, go with your mother *whispers* I'll teach you how to cook later though

Eliza carries a grumpy over tired infant into the nursery and sits down with her in the rocking chair.

Eliza: There there Tiana, it’s okay, you just go to sleep

Tiana: *coos* (mother came back with me, I not left behind) *yawns*

Eliza: It's okay my sleepy girl, mother is right here and daddy is just down the hall. You can sleep, I'll keep you safe

Tiana does feel very tired and so she yawns and falls asleep in Eliza’s arms. It may not be winning a Nobel Prize but Eliza feels pretty proud of finding time in her schedule to snuggle with her daughter.

The teens decided to do their homework at their own desks tonight! Fergus was working away on some science as he has a class trip to the aquarium tomorrow. Onyx meanwhile did their best to study for their exams. After Onyx felt like they could confidently say they were no longer sick they went and did some cheer practice. Later in the evening Tiana woke up.

After a diaper change Eliza gets Tiana into a clean night onesie and goes in search of Bob.

Bob: Thank you for the suggestion. She’s given us so much joy already

Kayleigh: No problem at all I- oh is this her?

Eliza: *grinning* Kayleigh may I introduce our youngest? This is Tiana

Kayleigh: Oh she is precious

Bob: Come to daddy, did you have a nice nap

Eliza: She’s still quite tired, I think she’ll need a proper sleep after her bottle

Bob: We can do that

Kayleigh: I best get going, see you all later

Bob: Can you say bye bye to Kayleigh

Tiana: *coos and snuggles into shoulder* (daddy is here, mother found him for me)

Bob: *chuckles* okay, food time then

Bob is delighted to see Tiana has a healthy appetite. He prepares himself to be spat on but to his surprise only gas comes out. Snuggling Tiana close he carries her down the hall and places her in her crib. He softly tells her another tall tale and the exhausted infant falls asleep happy with the sounds of fellow sims.

Previous ... Next

[uh-ohspaghettio]

By some chance of magic Dean is put in a room of everyone who wants to sleep with him and yeah yeah castiel and crowley and Benny but in the room Dean sees himself and has a panic of the ego until it is revealed that it is in fact Jensen Ackles

[bonewreath]

so, your best friend accidentally sent you a video of her masturbating. what now?

18+ below! smut smut smut!

ellie’s bedroom is heavy with the scent of sex, her fingers still pruned from her own wetness. she’s spent the last few minutes tense and panicked, too paralyzed with anxiety to get up and put some clothes on, and she’s considering what she’ll change her name to and where she’ll move to start a new life when you finally, finally text her back.

it’s okay. give me a second to reply, alright?

the weight on her chest eases a bit at your reassurance, but a new spark of uncertainty flares up at the second part of the message: give me a second to reply. jaw tight, she sends you a question mark, then follows up with you don’t have to respond. it’s probably better if you don’t?? again i’m so fucking sorry.

but as the minutes tick by, slow and lazed, she starts to panic again. her mind conjures every possible response you could send her next: an angry thesis statement on why ellie’s a disgusting pervert, a seething comment about how stupid she must be for sending a video like that so carelessly. would you ever look at her the same way? would things ever be the same?

all it takes is another notification from you to make every imagined worst-case scenario evaporate. ellie clicks the notification as soon as it pops up, chewing on the soft flesh of her inner lip.

it’s a video.

you sent her a video.

she hits the play button without a second thought, heartbeat thudding in her ears.

“i know you’re probably embarrassed,” you say, head tilting as you frown with sympathy. a blush paints ellie’s cheeks bright red. “but i need you to know how wet that made me.”

holding the camera up, you extend your arm outwards to reveal the rest of your body - your naked body, ellie realizes with a shock. she sits up in bed, back ramrod straight, her phone shaking as a nervous tremor strikes through her. but she can’t look away - not when you’re tracing a hand down the soft curves of your body, fingertips grazing over one peaked nipple, then moving lower, lower. ellie swears she’s forgotten how to breathe.

you release a pleased hum. “i liked watching you touch yourself,” you say, so matter-of-fact. “i hope you like watching me.”

and she does, god she does. she settles back down onto the mattress, eyes never leaving the screen as you work two fingers through your soaked folds. you moan and sigh and keen, rolling your hips down against your own hand, the wet sounds of your pussy so intoxicating, ellie can’t believe she’s gone her whole life without seeing you like this.

and it might be wrong, the way her own hand drifts between her legs to find herself still hot and wet, but she doesn’t have it in herself to care. she dips a finger inside of herself as she watches you ride your own hand, grinding down on your palm as your fingers work in and out of your cunt. she finds a rhythm that matches your own; soon enough, you’re both gasping at the pleasure building beneath your waistline. with every roll of your hips, ellie’s cunt tightens, flooding with slickness - as if she could get any wetter.

as you get closer to the edge, your grip on your phone falters and the camera starts to shake. ellie hisses and curses under her breath when your phone captures the blissed-out look on your face: eyes rolled back, brows pulled together, teeth sinking into your lower lip.

“oh - oh my god,” you stutter, panting, “i’m gonna come, ellie.”

ellie. ellie ellie ellie.

“holy fuck.” ellie’s pussy clamps down around her fingers at the sound of her name on your lips; her thumb glides over her clit just right, and she didn’t think she’d come this fast but she does, her vision exploding into blinding white as her orgasm crashes into her. it’s the only time she looks away from the video on her screen - but she certainly hears your orgasm, all high-pitched moans and ragged breaths, your cunt gushing onto your fingers.

when ellie finds the strength to open her eyes again, the video is still playing. you’re catching your breath, chest shimmering with a thin layer of sweat. you look at the camera and smile. ellie thinks she might pass out.

“thanks for the video,” you say, lifting your free hand up to wave.

when you bring your fingers to your mouth and purse your lips around them, sucking them clean of your own come, ellie’s sure she’s going to pass out.

and then, she decides, she’s going to fuck you stupid.

[pasukiyo]

HANDLE IT

mike schmidt x f!teacher!reader word count; 2,417 warnings; once again, no plot, just porn <3 summary; mike has a look. that's never a good sign.

 “Follow Mrs Davis and her class for lunch!”

 Mike watched from his seat behind the teacher’s desk as his girlfriend saw her class out the door, hand on the handle and pulling it closed behind them, making sure to twist the lock while she did. The corners of his mouth twitched as she sighed and fell back against the door, blowing a strand of loose hair out of her face. 

 “Long day?” Mike asked and she narrowed her eyes over at him, her lips quirked in a tired grin. “Don’t even get me started,” she grumbled as she pushed herself off of the door, heels clicking against the tile as she made her way back to her desk. 

 “Abby hasn’t been a problem, I hope?” Mike cocked an eyebrow to his hairline as she leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek, settling herself down in her chair. She rolled her eyes at this, “you always make it seem like she should be causing trouble,” she tittered. “No, Abby’s always great.”

 She watched as Mike reached for the floor beside him, a plastic takeout bag in his hand and she grinned, wiggling in her seat as he began to unravel the knot in the handles. “Sooo… what did you bring me?” She asked, letting the smell of what she swore was tomato sauce waft through her nostrils.

 “New Italian place opened in the mall. Figured we could try it out,” he replied as he handed her one of the takeout boxes in which she ripped the lid off of, grinning over at Mike. “Spaghetti with meatballs. You know me so well.”

 She leaned forward as he handed her the plastic fork to press a kiss against his lips and Mike smiled, practically chasing after her mouth again when she pulled away. He watched as she spun the spaghetti around her fork, as she took a bite and moaned at the taste. 

 Suddenly, Mike’s jeans felt very tight. 

 “What is this place called? It’s amazing,” she moaned, chewing behind her fingers as she turned to glance over at Mike. “Ten out of ten. This might even be better than your spaghetti and meatballs.”

 Mike, although distracted by something else entirely, furrowed his brows at this, tossing his hands up. “Hey,” he said. “Thought you loved my spaghetti and meatballs.”

 She shrugged, “they’re alright.” Mike playfully shoved her shoulder and she tried to bite back a chuckle, glancing back over to him. “Hey, I don’t see you eating spaghetti and meatballs, why don’t you try and find out?” She laughed, taking a bite from a meatball as Mike pressed his lips together, curved into a grin as he shook his head. “Nah, I’m not that hungry right now.”

 She raised a brow and tilted her head to eye the other takeout box in the plastic bag. “Mike, you haven’t even touched your food,” she tittered, eyeing him incredulously. She narrowed her lids, “you have a look.”

 The corner of Mike’s mouth twitched— she was catching on. “I don’t have a look.”

 Her face fell and she dropped her fork in the to-go box, eyebrow cocked. “Yes, you do.”

 Mike leaned back in his seat and locked his fingers together on his lap, shrugging as he turned his head to face her. “Enlighten me, what look do you think I have?”

 For a fleeting moment, her gaze lowered to the very evident tent in his jeans, her thighs subconsciously clenching together at the sight, cheeks growing warm when he chuckled. She looked away, soothing her palms up and down the length of her skirt and Mike watched, teeth sunken into the inside of his cheek. A scenario played in the forefront of his mind, fantasizing about ripping the skirt clean off her legs and taking her right there on top of her desk had him balling a fist, squeezing his thumb so tight, it almost felt like it’d pop. 

 “Mike…”

 “What?” He murmured, leaning in closer, brushing away the hair curtaining away the side of her face back behind her ear. She melted like wax at his touch, as if her fingertips were flames. Her skin burned so hot now, she feared she actually would melt into a pool of magma on the floor below. 

 “Here?” She whispered as he rolled his chair closer, his breath a phantom looming over her flesh, sending shivers slithering down the coil of her spine. Mike peered up into the sides of her irises, “why not?”

 His lips pressed against the delicate skin just below her ear and she trembled, panicking eyes darting to the door she had thankfully locked. “I’ll give you a million reasons why not,” she murmured as his kisses trailed down to the curve of her shoulder, the scruff on his chin and just above his lips deliciously burning her skin. 

 “I can be sneaky,” he whispered against the valley between her neck and shoulder, his lips a crescent against her skin when he playfully nipped her flesh between his teeth there. She jolted and hissed, clenching her thighs together once more as the familiar slick of warmth burned the pit of her belly. “If somebody walks in, we’re both dead,” she murmured as his palm gripped and soothed down the length of her thigh, kneading at her knee, teasing her, taunting her. 

 “Relax, babe,” he breathed a chuckle against the crook of her neck. “I just want a taste, that’s all. Wouldn’t want you to get all fucked out before the day is over.”

 His low, raspy words had her reeling, her head in a frenzy and teetering on the edge of a mindset she knew she was at risk of falling down into. “Screw you, Mike,” she muttered through gritted teeth as he grinned, placing one last kiss against the breadth of her shoulder before sinking down to his knees on the floor, hanging his head so that he could fit beneath the desk. 

 Her heart drummed against her chest as he slithered his way between her legs, hands on her knees as slowly he parted them, as if he were unwrapping a present on Christmas Day. Through heavy eyelids, she peered down at him just as a silent curse fell from his mouth, teeth burrowed into the plush of his bottom lip as the pads of his thumbs rubbed circles into the inside of her knees. 

 “You’re soaked clean through your panties,” he chuckled and she burned brighter, sweat already beginning to bead at her hairline and her chest heaving to the unsteady beat of her heart. His name fell from her lips in a whispered sigh as he reached forward with his right thumb, pressing the fat of it straight onto her clothed clit, her back arching up off of her chair as he traced an agonizingly slow and painful circle against it, sighing at the way her slick showed through the thin fabric of her underwear. 

 “Fffuck,” he grumbled beneath his breath, hiking the skirt that hugged her curves until they pooled at her hips, pushing her knees further apart until he had full access to everything. His gaze was like a laser, burning through the damp fabric of her panties straight through to her pussy. He eyed her like he was starved, like he’d go hungry if he didn't get himself a taste. 

 Mike hooked his middle and forefinger around the hem of her underwear and tugged, although with some resistance with how wet she was. She gasped when the fabric unstuck itself from her arousal, Mike’s lips falling agape as he tugged her panties all the way down her legs until they hooked around one single ankle. He pressed himself closer, wrapping his arms around her hips and with his palms to her ass, drawing her in even closer until she sat on the edge of her seat. 

 “So fuckin’ pretty,” he marveled at the sight before him, admiring every single inch of her as if she were an artifact. She shuddered beneath his stare. “Mike,” she mewled through a shaky breath, “please.”

 With those deep, rich chocolate brown eyes, he glimpsed up at her and she gazed back, wondering when his pupils ended and his irises started. His eyes glimmered with longing, with desire, with lust. She thought she’d come from just his stare alone. 

 “Have to stay quiet, hm?” He nodded up at her, maintaining eye contact as he pressed a kiss just above her clit, feeling it throb against his chin as she writhed, trying to suppress her mewl. She nodded, pressing her lips together as she briefly glanced up at the door then to the windows— she was so grateful she’d drawn the blinds earlier. 

 Their gazes never leaving one another, Mike carefully leaned down to press a tender kiss on top of her aching bud, her toes curling in, back arching off the back of her chair. One of her hands flung to the mess of dark tendrils atop his head, the other gripping the armrest of her desk chair. Mike pulled away again, the makings of a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. “Think you can handle it?” He asked and she whimpered, nodding, every ounce of dignity in her body long gone, thrown somewhere far away from right there.

 “Just… please, Mike,” she whined, trying to keep her voice on the low as she gripped the roots of his hair tighter, inviting him back into her warmth, his arousal like a gloss on his lips. The crescent shape of his lips fell back against her clit as he pressed another kiss to it, electricity flowing through her body and making her jolt once more. 

 Mike eyed her through hooded lids as he licked a stripe all the way from her entrance back up the underside of her clit, relishing in the way she’d tremble and press her lips together in a desperate attempt to silence her whimpers. The delectable taste of her arousal coated his tongue and simmered on his taste buds as if she were his ambrosia, and he hummed as he licked another line up her slit. 

 “Taste so damn good,” he practically growled against her cunt as he plunged his face back in, his lips around her clit and tongue swirling against the sensitive nub. Tears were streaming down the sides of her face now as she threw her head back, using every last ounce of strength inside her body to will her moans to stay at a minimum. All she could do was pray that nobody would come knocking on her classroom door now. 

 A string of curses, his name among the mix, tumbled from her lips as he sucked her clit, every swirl of his tongue coaxing her closer and closer to the edge. She was balancing on a tightrope now, teetering on bliss as his tongue trailed down to her entrance, slow but firm as it pushed its way in. Her fingers tightened in the mess of hair on his head, pulling harder, making him surge into her. 

 She could feel every inch of his tongue inside of her and he was so close, the bridge of his nose pressed deliciously down on her clit, sending her down into a spiral of pleasure. She squeezed her eyelids together so tight, she was seeing stars, a shimmering backdrop of glitter as he swirled his muscle inside of her, humming into her at her taste. 

 “Sh… shi… shit, Mike!” She gasped as he nodded his head, tongue swirling inside of her, the bridge of his nose rubbing up and down against her clit. Her eyes were rolling into the back of her hand, every move his tongue made and every bit of pressure his nose applied to her clit added more rubber bands to the ball pressing down against the pit of her belly, dangerously close to erupting. “I’m… I’m gonna come if you don’t… if you don’t stop.”

 Mike blinked up at her and pulled away for breath, every inch of his face from the bridge of his nose down slick and shiny with her arousal. She felt herself clench at the mere sight as his chest heaved, chasing air back into his lungs, a smug smirk on his face. “I’m betting on it, babe,” he chuckled before diving back in, her pussy empty one moment and nearly full of his tongue the next. 

 His eagerness almost had her screaming, her nails scraping so hard against his scalp, somewhere in the back of her mind, she feared she’d draw blood. Mike hummed against her— he didn’t seem to mind so much. 

 Oh, how could he when he could sense she was so close? He could practically smell her orgasm, using every ounce of skill in his body to push her even closer to the edge, to knock her unsteady on top of that tightrope until it snapped below her altogether. 

 With her hand not tangled in his hair, she sank her teeth into the side of her hand to muffle the scream that ripped through her body, squeezing her eyelids shut even tighter as her body spasms, bones rattling in her release’s wake. Her orgasm thundered and cracked through her body like an earthquake, the sheer power of her release like a tempest. Her thighs squeezed around Mike’s head and he palmed at the sides of them as he swirled his tongue inside of her again and again, making sure not a drop of her went to waste. 

 He was practically drinking her, slurping every last drop until there was none left to be had. And only when that moment came did he pull away, breathless as he sat back on his heels below her desk, swiping at the slick dripping down his face with the back of his hand. 

 Mike gazed up at her curiously, her head still thrown back over the back of the chair, chest heaving up and down as she struggled to catch her breath. He chuckled as he pushed himself out from underneath her desk and up so that he could stand beside her, a palm cupping her cheek, the other aiding her head to sit normally on her shoulders. The pad of his thumb soothed over against her cheek, coaxing her out of her bleary state, her vision slowly beginning to clear again. 

 Mike tried to bite back his smile, “doing alright there?”

 She huffed as her cheeks burned, “shut up, Mike.”

a/n; i ended up writing up this one in like 45 minutes while sitting in the bathtub LMAO y'all went absolutely crazy with the last mike fic, you literally broke my tumblr notifications 😭 glad to see so many others horny for josh in this movie too

TAGLIST !!

@bxbyyyjocelyn

[sailoryooons]

Boyfriend Material | jjk (m)

☾ Pairing: Hockey Player!Jungkook x f. Reader 

☾ Summary: Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material – except when he is.  

☾ Word Count: 2,127

☾ Genre: FWB, Hint of Angst, Smut

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Friends with benefits who are very obviously pretending not to have feelings, being in a confusing relationship that is basically a relationship without titles, feelings of confusion and self-doubt, lying to oneself, mentions of some toxic interactions with other people/women, repressed feelings, explicit sexual content including oral (f. receiving) in the shower, honestly, in general, some very cliche/stereotypical conflict you’d find in a relationship with someone of status 

☾ Published: March 23, 2024

☾ A/N: This is a self-insert of one of the most confusing relationships I have ever had in my life and I will die on the hill that no one should date athletes because 98% of them are the rule, not the exception no matter how much they seem like it! TRAUMA!!! Also, should I have been dating a professional athlete for the sport I worked in? No!!!! This is for all the people who have been in a not-relationship-that-is-a-relationship why the fuck do people do that like it is okay to have feelings and call ur partner ur partner?? 

☾ A/N 2: This is drabble number six for the Drabble Challenge that I have been utterly failing at! Today I rolled for ‘athlete’ but I didn’t feel like writing actual sports so I was like :) I worked in sports for ten years, I can just share a glimpse of my life when I was 23 years old :) Enjoy 

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Main Masterlist ☾ 100 Drabble Masterlist ☾ Ask ☾ Song Inspiration

“Fuck, I’m so tired,” Jungkook groans, leaning back in the chair and stretching his arms. Sun beats down on his golden skin. You feel the heat of it on your back and the top of your head. It’s pleasant, the cool spring breeze threatening to send the napkins on the table running. “Wanna lay out at the pool?”

Finishing the rest of your coffee, you nudge the empty plate away from you. Where once an eggs benedict had stood is now smears of leftover yolk and a single onion you missed when eating your hashbrowns. 

“Not sick of me?” you ask, raising a brow. 

Jungkook isn’t looking at you, scrolling on his phone. The bill of his hat is pulled low, hiding most of his face as he squints down at the device held low in his lap. You wait patiently for his answer, running your finger up and down the now-empty glass as it sweats from the sun. 

“Nope,” he answers, popping the end of the word sharply. “Did you ever get your desk fixed? Yoongi said he would fix it if not.”

“I have not.” 

He nods. “He said he’ll swing by this afternoon. We can lay out at the pool at my place and then head to yours after?” 

Your mouth twitches. You don’t say it out loud because you don’t want to risk him backing out, but another full day spent with Jungkook is a surprise to you. Not because it doesn’t happen often – it does. But rather because it keeps happening more often.

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material. He’d established that the first night he met you at a bar. Him being a professional athlete was a warning sign enough that you didn’t want to romance that but what had come afterward has been nothing short of surprising. 

Friendship and… well. You don’t know how to explain the extras. 

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material. But you do your groceries together on the weekend. You drop him off at the arena when they’re heading out for a road trip. You take him to doctor's appointments to monitor the knee injury from last season. 

You’re not Jungkook’s girlfriend but he takes you to team events. He lets himself in and does your laundry at your apartment while you’re at work so you don’t have to do it when you come home. He has his teammates fix furniture for you and they’ve asked you to babysit their kids. 

“Babe?” the endearment makes you blink a few times, realizing you’d been staring into your lap. Jungkook’s dark eyes are focused on you now, phone shoved into his pocket. “We don’t have to go to the pool. We can just nap.”

We. Not you. Jungkook is going to hang out with you regardless if you like his original idea or not. Your stomach flips in that way you hate, the way that you know you’re doing everything you said you wouldn’t.

“Sounds good.” 

Jungkook flashes a grin and you become acutely aware that thinking you could be friends with benefits without being anything more was a stupid idea. Jungkook is not made to be resisted, with round eyes that darken when he’s turned on, a giggle that contrasts with the big, broad-shouldered athlete built, a smile that lights up the room and can dispel any tension, a sweet voice that can tempt anyone the moment he pouts or when he decides to pur. 

You were fucked - literally and figuratively - that first night you let him in your apartment. 

Instead of thinking about it, you hide from the truth. Again. Jungkook is not boyfriend material, despite the fact that he pays for breakfast despite your protests, and reaches over the center console in the car to squeeze your thigh. 

“Mmm,” he hums, fingers skating over your flash and making you squirm in the passenger seat. “Warm.”

“I was sitting in the sun.”

“I like it.”

Jungkook likes a lot about you. He tells you all the time, very open about how he likes the way you taste, likes the way you organize your books by color, likes the way you sing in the shower, likes the way you speak in Star Wars quotes. 

Perhaps that’s what makes you the most wary about him. He says he’s not boyfriend material, but his actions betray his words. And you let them, every single time. 

Jungkook smells like sunscreen, sweat, and a little bit of his cologne from earlier that morning. You’re hyperaware of him as you lounge on the cabana bed together, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his firm body. 

His tattooed arm is tossed over his eyes, blocking out the sun as he snores a little. Careful not to knock into him, you lean over him and grab his phone to check the time. You haven’t been lounging in the sun long, but you don’t want him to get a sunburn.

Again. 

You wager you can stay a little longer, placing the phone back down under his discarded shirt where it can hide from the sun’s heat. Sitting back in your spot, you pick up your book from your sweaty thighs as the sound of the gate to the pool yard opening catches your attention. 

Some of Jungkook’s teammates live in the same apartment complex. It’s easier that way, especially for the players who get sent up and down from the minors. You catch a few of the younger players with a few girls you don’t know the name of tugging a cooler on wheels behind them with a speaker blaring. 

Jungkook doesn’t so much as move. He can sleep through anything – has slept through you falling into his gaming setup while trying to get to the bathroom drunk. His slumbering leaves you to watch them head to the beds a few over from yours. 

One of the girls notices you. You don’t recognize her specifically, but she recognizes Jungkook. Looks back at you. Frowns and mutters something to one of the other girls, who is not very subtle as she cranks her head around in your direction. 

You don’t wince anymore. It’s not an uncommon thing, among these circles. You refuse to engage with any of it. You used to tell yourself it was because a casual whatever-Jungkook-is simply isn’t worth the drama. At night, you know you don’t engage with it because you don’t want to know. 

Ignorance is bliss, especially in this dangerously plastic world Jungkook exists in. 

Thankfully, you’re not alone in the matter. Jimin appears out of thin air, dropping down on the empty bed next to you. Namjoon – arguably Jimin’s better half and team captain – is nowhere to be found. Jimin lowers his shades and looks beyond you to the group of now rowdy players. 

“Gross,” he huffs. He slides his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and stretches out on the bed like a cat. Jimin doesn’t play, but he certainly has the body of an athlete, all fine lines and corded muscle. “Ignore them.”

“I was doing that already.” You lift your book as if to prove yourself.

He snorts. “You were thinking about it, be honest.” Your silence is answer enough and Jimin grins, lacing his hands behind his head as he tilts toward the sun. “Don’t let Jungkookie burn again.”

“I’m not,” you huff before snapping your book shut. Jimin is in the circle of player’s partners that you genuinely enjoy, but he has the keen ability to get under your skin and tell you all of the truths that you don’t want to be voiced out loud. Still, having him on your side has more benefits than just keeping the hyenas away from you. He’s also genuinely nice when he wants to be. “Jungkook, wake up.”

The man mumbles and turns his head away from you. You sigh heavily, squeezing his strong, very sweaty arm gently. “Come on, you’re gonna burn if you stay out here any longer.”

“Mm. Feels nice.”

“A sunburn won’t feel nice.”

“You can rub aloe all over me.”

“I will not.”

“Just five more minutes.”

“Jeon.” 

He drops his arm from his eyes, squinting in the bright light at you. His hair is damp with sweat and hangs in his eyes. He’s been growing it out longer and longer, especially since Seokjin keeps encouraging Jungkook by telling him he has the best flow on the team. 

“So you don’t want to rub aloe all over me?”

“You don’t need to get sunburned for me to touch you, Jungkook.”

“Bleh,” Jimin grunts. 

That makes Jungkook sit up, rolling his shoulders and twisting to pop his back. He sighs for a moment, closing his eyes as though willing himself to get up. When he opens them again, there’s a light in them and he smirks, looking you up and down.

“Wanna shower?”

Your mouth twitches and you roll your eyes to hide how much you want to shiver. “Come on,” you sigh, getting up, the fabric of the sunbed clinging to your sweaty skin. 

Eyes cling to you as you pull the sundress over your head and slide your sandals on. You don’t have to glance over at the mini-party a few sunbeds over to know you’re being watched. You suppose they’re watching Jungkook more than anything, but you’re in direct view behind him, grabbing your book. 

You know Jungkook notices them. He says nothing, though. Instead, he offers his hand out when you shove all your belongings in a bag, wanting to carry it. You grin and hand it over to him, smile growing as he shoulders it easily and offers his hand again, this time for you to take.

And you do take it. Perhaps the satisfaction that thrums through you as he leads you out of the pool yard and onto the deck that crosses the lake toward his apartment building is a little bit insidious. You don’t care. The momentary triumph that you shouldn’t be feeling at all is far too powerful and Jungkook’s hand is far too warm and safe in yours to care about why you feel good about the public display of affection.

It isn’t like he hasn’t done it before. Jungkook isn’t shy with others in front of you. It’s what makes the whole thing worse, somehow. Because Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material, but he introduces you to people and friends and slides between your legs to lean on you when you’re sitting on a barstool. He holds your hand when you go on a lunch and shopping spree with your mom and he brings her coffee and flowers. 

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material, but you don’t care when the shower hits the warm skin and runs down your back as he presses your chest to the cold shower wall in front of you. The cool stone stings against your nipples, over-sensitive and sending a shiver down your spine as your eyes flutter shut. 

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material, but he curses low under the sound of the shower as he pries your legs apart, tongue seeking the heat between them hungrily. Your mouth falls open as Jungkook’s tongue licks you soft-slow, lips sucking gently against your clit. 

“Shit,” you hiss. The difference in temperatures between the hot water and the cold wall makes the room spin. Steam makes it harder to breathe, your head pleasure-dizzy as Jungkook laughs and rolls his tongue lazily around your dripping cunt. “Fuck.”

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material, but he eats you out slow and hungry. He doesn’t care that the water starts to lose its warmth as his mouth works you, smacking his lips loudly and moaning, vibrations going straight to your core where you drip on his soft tongue. 

His hands grip your ass, fingers digging into the flesh as he pries you apart further, tongue delving into your aching hole. He slurps at you, mouth loud and sticky over the sound of your panting and the water hitting the tile floor. His little hums of appreciation buzz through you, making the room spin.

“Fuck,” you whisper, pressing your cheek to the wet, cold stone as you try to ground yourself. You twist an arm backward, gripping Jungkook’s wet hair. He lets out a loud groan in appreciation, always pleased when you pull on his hair. “Don’t stop.”

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material, but he does whatever you want him to. His tongue delves in, working you to orgasm until you’re shaking against the wall, knees knocking together and nearly collapsing on him. He catches you easily, standing and pressing you against the wall as he grabs your chin and brings your mouth toward him, his to devour.

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material. 

But more than anything, you want him to be. 

[ladyartemesia]

So this is really random but one of my drabble requests was for a Yoongi Soulmate scenario and I started writing it and I’m having so much fun SO I thought I’d give you guys a sneak peak! I’m hoping to have it up soon!

Roommate AU/Soulmate AU Preview • Yoongi

“Whatever you do, don’t mention soulmates.”

Kim Namjoon spent the last twenty minutes of your lunch break talking up his friend and trying to convince you to take him in as a roommate—

Only to make that weird comment and have you reconsidering your tentative acceptance.

“Okay…Is there a story to go with that cryptic declaration?”

Joon shook his head.

“I mean I don’t know if it’s my place—“

“Kim Namjoon, before I let some random man move into my place you’re gonna need to tell me why I can’t talk about soulmates. Everybody talks about soulmates. It’s what we do as a society. It’s like the weather—“

Joon snorted.

“Not Yoongi.”

“And the reason is?”

The two of you had a brief but intense staring contest.

“Alright fine—So… Yoongi was engaged.”

“To his soulmate?”

“No.”

“Oh…….Oh?”

Namjoon held up a finger—indicating that you should wait while he finished chewing his sandwich.

“He loved her—like a lot.”

“But they weren’t soulmates?”

“That didn’t matter to him. He said the whole system was stupid and didn’t mean anything.”

You chuckled.

“Bold words. I assume he had to eat them?”

Namjoon tilted his head in agreement.

“Yeah—he thought she was fine with it—the engagement was moving forward—and Yoongi was really happy….,”—he sighed and you unconsciously leaned in for the big reveal, —“until a soul mark popped up on her arm.”

Your mouth dropped open.

“What—noooo—she—she cheated on him?!”

There was only one way to get a soul mark.

Your soulmate had to see you without…clothes.

Like totally nude.

Fully naked.

Which meant Yoongi’s fiancé had gotten fully naked with somebody else.

No wonder he needed a place to stay.

Joon nodded.

“Seriously, don’t mention soulmates.”

• —— • ——— • —— • ——— • —— •——— •

As it turned out, you didn’t need to worry about mentioning soulmates to Yoongi—because the man barely spoke to you at all for the first three months you lived together.

Instead he communicated through a series of grunts, hums, and other assorted noises that you (surprisingly) became fluent in pretty quickly.

Once you even figured out that the milk carton was empty because Yoongi opened the fridge and sighed a certain way.

However, despite his aloof nature and interesting communicative habits, it was immediately clear why someone might be willing to throw over their hypothetical soulmate for him.

Min Yoongi was bloomin’ gorgeous.

And the few words you did hear him speak sounded like liquid sin on a cookie so—

Yeah.

[annaloveshjp]

cold kisses ✧

——————————————————————

harry potter x gn!reader

word count: 1k

summary: cute little scenario of harry being sleepy and wanting kisses ♡

——————————————————————

“Y/N?” Harry’s voice pulls you from your book as he walks into the common room after his quidditch practice.

“Harry, hi,” you greet him. He walks over and plops himself onto the sofa next to you. Harry’s still in his quidditch sweater, which is a bit too big for him. He pulls the sleeves over his hands to make paws.

“You okay? How was practice?” you ask him, putting your book down and patting your lap, inviting him to lie down. He sometimes reminded you of a puppy.

“Fine, and good,” he says softly. He leans down and stretches across your lap, groaning as he does. The wind messed up his hair, sticking everywhere, but not much more than usual. You stroke his hair as he leans into you more, undoing any small knots the wind had created.

His cheeks grow warm from the fireplace that is always lit. He sighs in contentment as the warmth spreads through his body.

“Need a shower?” you ask. He doesn’t reply for a moment, then nods his head. “Yeah,”

“Okay, well, go,” you nudge his head lightly.

“I don’t want to,” he says. “You’re comfortable.”

“My lap will still be here after your shower, Harry,” you say, smiling. “Now go, love. Take a nice, relaxing shower,”

He tilts his head to look at you. “Okay,” he proceeds to roll off of the sofa, hurting his behind in the process.

“Owww,” he groans tiredly. “That hurt,”

“No shit, Harry,” you sigh. “Now shoo, before I drag your arse up to your dorm,”

He lets a small smile slip onto his face before getting up and going to shower, but not before kissing you on the cheek.

You pick your book up and continue reading as he showers. After a while, you check the clock and see it’s been thirty minutes and you start to wonder if he fell asleep in the shower.

You put your book down and walk up to his dorm. You knock and wait for a sign of protest but hear nothing, so you open the door.

Walking in, you look over to see Harry lying in his bed with damp hair and no shirt on. He looks asleep, but you confirm he isn’t when you hear a muffled hi coming from his direction.

You look around to make sure the other beds are empty (they were), then walk over to him and sit beside him.

“How was your shower?” you ask him, reaching over and rubbing his bare shoulder. He flinches slightly at your cold touch.

“Good,” he seems to be talking to his pillow.

A sudden idea pops into your head. “Hey, sit up,”

He lifts his head to give you a questioning look.

“Love, sit up,” you repeat.

He stretches before obliging. He now sits next to you on the bed, his eyelids drooping slightly.

“Good,” you say quietly before crawling behind him on the bed and sitting down again. You raise your hands and begin massaging his shoulders so he can relax.

He tensed up for a second. You questioned why in your head for a moment before realizing why he felt so warm; your hands had been cold before.

“Sorry,” you say. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, it’s okay, they’ll get warmer as you go on,” he says. “But that sure woke me up.”

A small laugh escaped your lips as you continued with your massage.

“How did everyone do during practice?” you ask him. Your hands are getting warmer now.

“Everyone did fine,” he says. “Ron missed a few, and Katie got lightheaded after an hour, but other than that, it was good.”

“That’s good,” you agree. “D’you think I'd make a good player?”

“With your aim? No way,” he jokes. “But maybe a beater. Do you like hitting things?”

“Sometimes,” you say. “One time I actually hit my sibling with a pillow and knocked them off our loft bed,” you cringe and half smile at the memory.

“Ouch,” he says.

“Yeah,” you say. “Maybe next year I’ll try for beater, who knows?”

“That’d be cool,” Harry says. “I’d get to boss you around, ha!”

“You already can, Harry,” you say without thinking. Your face turns red in realization but thankfully Harry can’t see.

“I– what?” he turns around with a slight smirk as he notices your shocked state.

You quickly compose yourself and say with as much confidence as you can muster, “You heard me. You already can.”

He narrows his eyes for a moment. “Okay, then. Get off the bed.”

You didn’t think he’d actually start to boss you around, but you oblige anyway. You crawl around him and off the bed, now standing in front of him. “Is that it?” you ask.

“Now, kiss me.”

You look at him. “Is that it?”

“Maybe,” he says. “Now do as I say. Please?”

“Fine,” you roll your eyes playfully before leaning forward and giving him a swift peck on the lips.

“Hey! That wasn’t a kiss!” he whines as you back away.

“It was!” you say.

“Barely,” he retorts.

“Fine,” you say as you walk up to him. Harry scoots back on the bed to make room for you to sit. You sit down and look from his eyes to his lips.

His hand cups your jaw as you both lean in for a kiss. Your hands go to his warm shoulders as your lips meet and suddenly your whole body is warmer than just a few seconds ago.

You lean into him to somehow feel him more, which makes the kiss more intense. One of his hands goes to rest on your hip and all of a sudden you’re sitting on his lap.

You pull away for air after a moment. “Good enough kiss?” you ask him.

“Almost,” he says. He leans forward once again and pecks your lips once, twice, then a third time before he says, “Okay, good.”

You smile and kiss him on the nose.

Harry pulls you with him as he lies down on his back, your head resting on his chest and his arms wrapped around you protectively.

“I’m warm now,” you say. “Thank you for sharing your body heat.”

“No problem, love,” he says through a yawn. “Can we sleep now?”

“Of course,” you say. “Goodnight, Harry.”

“Night, Honey,” he whispers.

[festivalsofmargot]

Hi!! I love your imagines so much!! And I had a request if possible! Maybe f!reader and Sebastian sneak into the prefect bathroom for a bath together after a long day or something and one thing leaders to another..

My Sleep Remedy

{Sebastian Sallow x Fem!Reader}

AGED UP CHARACTERS, 18+ SCENARIOS (Characters are nearing the end of their 7th year and are 18+)

Word Count: ~ 5,100 words

Warnings: 18+ smut, (first time having sex, fingering, handjob, oral)

Author’s Note: Just want to say right away that I’m not a lore master on Harry Potter, I’ve only read the first book, seen the movies, and obsessed over Hogwarts Legacy. I think you need a password to get into the prefects’ bathroom but I’m going by HL rules where you can just walk in lmfaooo. Thank you for the request, anon!!! I got really into this one and had so much fun writing it. Hopefully you guys have as much fun reading it ❤ Now kick back and turn off your brain. I cleared your schedule for you, enjoy 🥰

Songs (if interested):

Spiracle - Flower Face

snowfall (Slowed + Reverb) -  Øneheart, reidenshi

You’d think, after everything you had to do to catch up having come in late as a 7th year, you’d be out as soon as your head hit the pillow. Yet sleep still found a way to evade you. After tossing and turning with no signs of your eyelids growing heavier, you decided to sneak out of your dorm and wander the halls of Hogwarts once again. Maybe you could stumble upon some demiguise statues for Mr. Moon.

With the disillusionment spell coating you, you walked the halls easily, taking in all the paintings and statues. It was a shame you only had one year here, there was no way you could see the entirety of the castle in such a short time. Turning a corner, you rammed into a solid, invisible object.

The feel of hands steadied you as your rubbed at your nose. The disillusionment spell wore off for both you and Sebastian Sallow.

“Sebastian.” You said in pleasant surprise, smiling up at him. “What are you doing up?”

“Had trouble sleeping. Decided to follow your lead and go on one of these -” He waved his hand dismissively in the air, “night walks you rave so much about.” He chuckled, keeping his voice low. Of everyone he could have had insomnia with, he was happy it was you.

“Same here. Decided I might as well look for more of those demiguise statues. No idea why they bother Mr. Moon so much, I think they’re pretty adorable. Care to join me? Or did you want to be alone?”

He appreciated you asking, especially in such a way that he felt he could say ‘no’ if he needed. But he didn’t need to, or want to. “Count me in.” He smiled. “I think I spotted one in the prefects’ bathroom.”

You quirked a brow at him. “What were you doing in there?”

“Bathing, what else?”

“One of the prefects invited you to join them, did they?” You teased and he rolled his eyes, playfully shoving your shoulder.

“It’s my last year, so I figured ‘why not’? Wanted to try it at least once. And if I was caught, I’m sure people would have been happy I've moved on from the restricted section. Now come on.”

“Lead the way.”

-

You and Sebastian arrived at the prefects’ bathroom, cloaked in the disillusionment spell. “If I remember right, I think I saw it just over...” His eyes scanned the bathroom.

“Ah, there it is.” You strode up to it, your disillusionment spell fading. You picked it up and twirled it in your hand as you returned to Sebastian’s side. “One more down, Merlin knows how many to go.” You sighed.

He let his disillusionment fade as well, taking the moon from your hand to look it over himself. Really, he just needed a temporary distraction, every now and then he would get this terrible urge to kiss you. You never had to do anything special for the thought to pop into his head, all he could do was suffer in silence until the ache went away. 

He handed the moon back to you and looked out to the bathroom. “You know, why don’t you give this bath a go? It could help you fall asleep, now that you got one less moon to worry about.”

He could see you thinking on it, clearly tempted.

“Come on, you came in late as a 7th year and you’ve been working yourself to the bone. I say you’ve earned it. It’s your only year at Hogwarts and we’re almost finished anyway. Go for it.”

“You’re such a bad influence.” You smirked at him, then scanned your eyes over the room. “This place is beautiful though, especially at night.” You thought aloud. “But what about you? If it helps you sleep, you should use it. I can come back for it another night when you’re feeling better.”

Sebastian was tempted too, this place had relaxed him in the way he needed most. It was pure tranquility. After everything that had happened that year, having that little bit of peace this place offered helped greatly. But he shook his head, “All yours tonight.”

You eyed him sadly as he looked down at his feet, shoving his hands in his pockets. You’d much rather he took it. You didn’t want to part ways with him quite yet either, but maybe this was his way of saying he needed to be alone at the moment. “Alright... thank you, Sebastian. Wait, how often do the prefects come to check on this place?”

“If they hear water running, they’re not coming in here.” He reassured you. “Even if they did suspect you weren’t someone who was allowed in here, they’d at least wait until you were clothed to rat you out.”

“Makes sense.” You exhaled, looking upon the immaculate bath the size of a pond. The thought of sitting in this beautiful, moonlit room enveloped in warm water was more enticing by the second.

Sebastian could see your dreamy stare and decided it was time for him to go. “I’ll leave you to it then.” He shot you a grin as he turned to make his way out.

“Seb.” You called softly, speaking before thinking.

“Hmm?” He turned to face you easily. 

“I um...” You didn’t want him to leave. Though you spent most of your days stuck together like glue, you wanted even more of him to yourself. You only had a few more weeks at Hogwarts, and then who knew where the two of you would be? 

He felt as if his heart skipped a beat when he saw the look on your face, he had never seen it on you before. It wasn’t happy, it wasn’t sad. It was hopeful... and aching. He didn’t know what to make of it as he waited for you to continue. He could see your chest rising and falling, your breathing seeming to get heavier. The sight made the wait for you to speak feel like it took ages.

You cleared your throat, mustering up the courage for your next words. “Please stay.”

His insides constricted in the most volatile way. You couldn’t possibly mean you wanted to bathe together, could you? Maybe you just thought you two could put your feet in the water? Surely no nakedness involved. Oh wonderful, he was thinking of you naked even though you were only a few feet away from him. He swallowed thickly. What do I say? What do I say?

‘Yes’ seemed like the best answer. On one hand, it could be innocent and there was no need for his mind to have taken him to such a risqué place. On the other, if you did want to bathe with him, he’d be the world’s biggest blockhead if he said ‘no’. 

He had fallen hard and fast for you his final year at Hogwarts. He wished, more than anything, you came in as a 1st year so you two could have made more memories together. But only one year with you was the hand he was dealt. So he’d take every second he could, no amount of time would have felt like it was enough anyhow.

After everything you had done for him, picking him back up after what happened with Anne and Solomon, keeping his friendship with Ominis in tact, and sticking by his side even though you’ve seen the worst sides of him, how could you possibly want someone like me? You were far, far too good for him.

Who was he fooling? There was no way he would have ever said ‘no’ to you. 

“I'll stay.” He answered as he took a step towards you, but that was all he’d let himself do. You needed to make the next move, so he could know what you wanted from him that night. He’d give you everything and more, all you needed to do was ask.

It was hard to keep calm when the flutter in your chest felt so overwhelming. Becoming jumpy, you brought your fingers up to unclasp your robes. 

His eyes went dark. Merlin’s sake, he needed to get it together. He had seen you take off your robes countless times before. And for all he knew, you’d only be taking off your shoes and tights as well.

You glanced up at him when you slipped your robes off, then went to put them at the front of the room near the large stack of towels. 

Sebastian watched your hips as you passed him. Easy now, still don’t know how far you want to go with this. He darted his gaze away and shrugged off his own robes. After tossing it aside, he went to turn on the faucets to fill up the giant tub. He desperately needed to busy himself to calm his nerves. 

He peeked over at you and watched, mesmerized, as you kicked off your shoes and pulled down your tights from under you skirt, slowly revealing the skin of your legs in the most tantalizing way. His breathing started to come out shallow, his lips parting slightly. 

You were either stopping there or you were going to keep going. This was the point where he’d know what you wanted. And if that was how he handled himself getting a look at your legs? He probably wouldn’t be coherent if you took it further.

Tucking your tights and shoes away, you looked back at him over your shoulder. He shot his gaze away and tried to look busy with the faucets. He knew he must have had a dumb, slack-jawed look on his face.

In your head, you were even more of a wreck. You had taken off everything that could be viewed as innocent. You could stop there and spend a relaxing night speaking with Sebastian, or you could try to take him how you’ve always wanted him ever since he smirked at you in your first Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

You knew he’d be a gentleman about all of this, so you’d have to make the first move in the direction you wanted to take it. The look on his face when he saw you had taken off your shoes and tights was encouraging. You glanced at him again but his focus was fully back on the faucets, not as encouraging.

You took a steadying breath, thankful the sound of the rushing water would drown it out. You mustered up every ounce of courage you had, locked the door, and turned your body so that you were facing him. This could be your only chance, it was now or never. Looking down at your shirt, you reached up and slowly began unbuttoning it. Once you got down to the button that opened your shirt enough to reveal the top of your bodice, you peeked up at him to check if he was looking.

And oh he was looking, the way he seemed to be watching you with undivided attention had the spark of a fire ignite in your core. You undid a few more buttons until you gradually stilled under the weight of his gaze, temporarily hypnotized by the way he was looking at you.

“Keep going.” He said, hypnotized himself. He could feel the blood draining from his head to go south, leaving it empty with nothing but thoughts of what more you could show him. He wanted all of you displayed before him, all to himself.

Your heartrate sped up, you hadn’t known what words you wanted to hear from him, but those were certainly an electrifying choice. You picked up where you left off and delighted in the way he kept his eyes on you. You got to the last of your buttons and slipped off your shirt, revealing your bodice and the skin of your shoulders.

He stood up straighter and faced you fully as he watched your shirt fall to the floor. Your skirt was less of a slow burn and more of a shock to his senses when it only took one undone button for it to fall as well.

He clenched his jaw and exhaled through his nose like he was being tortured. It wasn’t fair, the effect you had on him. He could see out of the corner of his eye that the tub still had a ways to go filling with water, so he hoped you would help him pass the time by continuing to do what you were doing.

You kept your eyes on him, nervous, excited, and aching to show him what was under your bodice. You began undoing the buttons of your final layer. His eyes fell down to your chest, and you could see his adam's apple bob in his throat. The heat you felt in your abdomen went lower, you felt it throb in the most delicious way. That throb only swelled when you glanced down at Sebastian’s pants, his erection pressing hard against the fabric. The thought of having caused it sent a thrill through you.

When you slipped off your bodice and revealed your breasts, he made his way towards you, not allowing this space between you anymore. Keeping your eyes on him as he approached, you swiftly pulled down your underskirts. His face turned pained seeing you fully naked before him, your most sensitive area exposed to him. 

He stood before you, eyes darting all over you, not sure where they wanted to feast upon more. You didn’t mind that you were naked and Sebastian wasn’t. Those hungry looks of his had been more than enough to send you over the edge. 

As you witnessed his eyes ardently roaming over you, you reached up and began undoing his tie, the rise and fall of his chest speeding up. You slid his tie off and went for his buttons, undoing them one by one. 

It was such an intoxicating contradiction to witness, watching you take control in such a tender way. He narrowed his eyes at you as you slipped his shirt off, fingers brushing along his skin as you did so. You met his gaze and sensed he was wordlessly begging you to release his hard length from his pants. 

Your lashes curtained your eyes as you looked down to undo his belt. He dared to touch you then, his fingers grazed your hips and he dragged them lightly up the sides of your torso. He held back, because the way he wanted to grab you, he was sure he’d leave bruises. You were so soft, almost like you were the most delicate thing he had ever touched, even though he knew full well you were far from it.

You undid his pants and looked back up at him. You were still for a moment and he wondered what was going through your head. Keeping your eyes on him, you gingerly grabbed at his length. You watched with delight as he hissed a breath through his teeth and shot his gaze down to your hand on him. You stroked your thumb across his tip and he almost collapsed.

He panicked when you released him and began walking away. He watched in stunned silence as you walked down the steps into the water and then dove in. You resurfaced and swam towards the faucets, turning them all off. His pants were hanging loose on his waist, his hard length teasing out of it. 

“Are you coming in?” You asked without looking at him, continuing to turn off the remaining faucets, your nipples peeking out of the water every time you reached up.

His body finally kicked in to gear. He nearly fell over as he hopped on one foot to yank off one shoe, then switched sides, just as unsteady while taking off the other. His hands were shaky and quick pulling off his socks, he threw them to the side, not caring if he ever saw them again. Once he shoved down his pants, he joined you in the water, not nearly as graceful as you and causing much more splashing.

You giggled as you swam to meet him, pulling his face into a kiss. He treaded the water as you held him close to you, relishing the feel of your mouth on his, your breasts pressing against him. The water was slick on your skin, he was half tempted to swim back and just watch you exist, naked and dripping wet. But he didn’t want to leave this position, not yet.

Your hands slid down and rested on his freckled shoulders, reveling at his hard muscles there. He pulled back from the kiss slightly, wanting to look at your face. He cupped your jaw with one hand and dragged his thumb along your skin, watching the water droplets run down. He couldn’t believe this was happening, he had been in love with you for so long, and he had you with him like this. And in the prefects’ bathroom to top it off? If this was a dream, he’d absolutely die if he woke up.

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he looked over your features, and you couldn’t help but smile back. Every look he gave you tonight had you melting.

“I want you to touch me.” You told him.

He was sure he was dreaming then, but he’d do everything in his power to not wake up. “I’m so glad.”

He grabbed your hand under the water and pulled you along as he swam towards the tub’s edge. He rested a hand on it to keep himself afloat. “Hold onto me.” He said. You complied, placing your hands back on his shoulders. His free hand remained under water, moving to your inner thigh, his fingers dragged up to your folds. He eyed you for your reaction, you nodded your head. The two of you looked down into the water at his hand, he ran his first finger through you, taking in the feel of it all. You dug your nails into his skin, it kept his member rock hard.

He had read books on sex before, but the boring ones. The ones with lifeless illustrations, education being the main purpose. He wasn’t completely ignorant of what was between your thighs, but he couldn’t truly know until he encountered it himself.

“Right there. Move your fingers on that spot.” Your whispered feedback had his insides reeling, and he threw out his plan to take his time feeling you. 

“How should I - what do I -” He was eager to please but he'd be lying if he said he knew how.

You put a hand over his and guided him towards the top of your slit. You moved his fingers in short, up and down, rubbing motions at a quick pace. You already knew how to get yourself off from alone time in the showers, and you were earnest to have him take your place. His rough, warm fingers would feel so much better.

“Like that.” You panted. “Keep touching me like that.”

He furrowed his brows and bit his lip in concentration, all his focus going to his fingers, he was going to get this right if it killed him.

You held onto him for support as he moved against you, your peak was approaching much faster with his fingers instead of yours. His eyes darted up and down, going up to your face and then back down to your need. 

You brought your hands up to his head and fisted his hair, he pressed his forehead against yours, keeping up his motions. You held him to you as your climax got closer and closer, wrapping one leg around his waist underneath the water. He was especially thankful being in the water then, it helped make the two of you more weightless. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hold this strong other wise. 

“I’m gonna - I’m -” He slammed his mouth onto yours to keep you quiet as he finished you off. Your muffled moan against his lips and your body spasming against his hand had him ravenous.

You pulled back from him to catch your breath, and you let your head fall against his shoulder. He held you close to him and rested his cheek against the top of your head. He wanted to make you feel that good all the time, wanted to be the only one who ever did.

You drifted back and put your hands on his chest. “Sit down.” You commanded, your breath still a bit uneven. You pushed him back gently through the water, towards the steps. 

“Alright.” He responded, compliant and enamored. He kept his eyes on you as he swam backwards and sat, not wanting to miss a second of you.

He took a steadying breath as you settled your knees on either side of his legs, straddling him. He exhaled sharply when you gripped his length under the water, “Now tell me how to touch you.”

His brain couldn’t process your question. He was eye level with your chest and stared ahead with half-lidded eyes, the water droplets running down you were madness inducing. He couldn’t stop himself from cupping some water into his hand and smearing it across your chest to make you glisten even more in wetness.

“Seb.” You whimpered, gripping him tighter.

His glazed eyes looked up to yours. He was delirious, there was so much of you to look at and you were touching him in a place no one else had. Getting his hand to act since his mouth couldn’t, he followed your lead and guided you on what to do. 

You wrapped your fingers around him and stroked up and down in the way he silently instructed. He leaned his elbows back on the steps and watched you, bewitched, as you fixated on his pleasure. 

You propped one hand against his chest as your other worked up and down his shaft. “A bit faster.” He groaned. “That’s...” His eyes rolled into the back of his head. “Ah that’s it.” The sound of water sloshing along with your breathing echoed throughout the prefects’ bathroom, and he was nearing his peak faster than he wanted. Quickly, he leaned forward and removed your hand from him. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked in a slight panic, he grabbed your face and pulled you into a kiss to put you at ease.

“Nothing.” He reassured once he pulled back. He looked up at you with longing, tortured eyes and stroked your cheek. “Can I be inside you?”

Your insides set ablaze and you nodded your head. He swallowed thickly as you adjusted on top of him, positioning yourself over his length. His hands moved to your hips and he gripped tightly, looking down into the water at you two about to join.

He did everything he could to inwardly steady himself. “Right...” He breathed. “Now... When I’m about to finish, you need to uh...” Focus! He shot a hand through his wet hair quickly then placed it back on your hip. “You need to withdraw from me, alright?” 

You nodded your head, just as frantic at the anticipation as he was. “I will.”

Ignoring your jittery nerves, you took him in your hand to guide his tip to your entrance. Slowly, you sunk yourself onto him, taking your time as you felt him stretch you out to fit deeper. You felt his body stiffen under you. With a throaty groan, he wrapped his arms around you and rested his forehead against your chest. You brought your hands up to the back of his head and held him close as you both breathed through it.

He wanted to be stuck in this position forever. The feel of your heat slowly enveloping him was unreal. You whimpered as you took more of him into you. He kissed the spot between your breasts, “Go slow. Go slow.” He whispered against your skin. The words were meant for him just as much as they were you.

His eyes squeezed shut briefly when you had him fully in you.

“I - I think I’m alright now.” You said, and could feel him nod against your chest.

You swallowed the dryness in your throat, and leaned back a bit to look down into the water. Catching your curious gaze at what it looked like being joined together was one of the most arousing things he had ever witnessed. 

You thought back to how he wanted your hand to move on him, so you gripped his shoulders and moved your heat up and down his length.

His hands moved down from your hips to your bottom, groping roughly. He leaned back enough so he could watch you bounce on him, quicker and quicker as you became more accustomed to the feel of him inside you.

He was becoming unhinged at it all. The feel of your heat gliding along him, the movement of your dripping wet breasts, your nails digging into his shoulders, and the sound of your panting breaths mixed with his. His climax was coming fast. 

“Ah I’m about to - Please don’t stop.” He could hardly speak, and his vision was getting blurry. He leaned forward to bite at your skin, he didn’t care where, anywhere. You arched your back at the feel of his teeth, and you knew he was nearing the edge. You withdrew yourself from him just enough to take him in your hand and he kept his hands on your ass. You stroked him fast to finish him off, but an urge to take him in your mouth took over. You broke away from his grasp and submerged your face under the water, wrapping your mouth around him. 

“W - Wait,” He breathed heavily, “What are you - o - oh...” His words melted into grunts as his head fell back and he spilled into your mouth.

When you felt he was done, you swallowed him and went back up for air. Wiping the water from your face, you saw his eyes were wide at you and he was trying to catch his breath. It was the most exhilarating sight.

He didn’t know what possessed you to put your mouth on him, but he needed to figure it out so he could ensure it possessed you next time too.

A dreamy sigh left your lips and you laid back into the water, floating contently as you looked up at the ceiling. He leaned back on his elbows and watched you, his legs too wobbly to move anywhere. It was quite the way to bring seven years at Hogwarts to a close.

“You know I’m in love with you, right?” Despite the lighthearted wording, there was gravity in his delivery.

You went up straight in the water to look at him. Hiding your dopey smile, you submerged yourself until it was just your eyes peeking out at him.

Getting bashful himself, he leaned forward on his knees and rubbed at his face. “Yeah, you know.” He laughed breathily. He was all too proud seeing how flushed your cheeks were and knowing he was the cause.

You swam back to him until you were standing on the steps below him. Placing your hands on his knees, you leaned forward and kissed him. You pulled back, getting a good look at all of his freckles. “I thought it was obvious I'm in love with you too.”

He pulled you back onto his lap. Gripping your thighs, he claimed your mouth with a deeper kiss. You were both tired now. He just needed this last taste of you, this last feel of your wet skin on his before you separated.

He tore himself from you and looked into your sleepy eyes with his. “Bed?” 

“Afraid so.” You sighed, getting up off his lap.

You grabbed his hand, pulling him with you out of the tub. Towels were aplenty in the prefect bathroom, and he grabbed one for you and him. As the two of you dried off, the exhaustion really kicked in. You gave each other sleepy smiles as you caught the other’s eye, trying to sneak glances as you put your uniforms back on.

He finished dressing before you did and went to help you with your last few buttons. “Stay with me in Feldcroft this summer. It’d mean the world to me if you did.” 

You met his half-lidded eyes with yours, a lazy smile on your lips. “Of course, I will.” 

He gave you one more lax kiss, then went to unlock the door. You picked up the demiguise moon and he opened the door for you.

“What in Merlin’s name?!” A younger prefect’s unwelcome voice knocked you two out of your magical haze.

Sebastian rolled his eyes and pushed you defensively behind him, keeping you hidden.

“Were you two in the prefects' bathroom? At the same time?! Don’t tell me you… in our bathroom!”

“I think you’re mistaken, we were just retrieving a demiguise statue for Mr. Moon, that’s all.” Sebastian grabbed the moon from your hand and walked up to the prefect, their height difference becoming very apparent when he came toe to toe and looked down his nose at him. 

“B - But your hair’s wet! Both of you -” 

“I’ll say it once more since it doesn’t seem like you heard me. You’re mistaken.” Sebastian repeated. “And if I hear any rumors about what you think happened, I’ll know who started them, won’t I? I only have a few weeks left here at Hogwarts, let’s see to it they go by smoothly, yeah?”

“F - Fine. Just get back to Mr. Moon straightaway and go to your dorms.”

He gave the prefect a couple solid pats on the cheek. “Attaboy.”

Grumbling, the prefect turned on his heel and left.

Sebastian returned to your side, wrapping an arm around your waist and practically carrying you out of the faculty tower. “Were you trying to protect my honor back there?” You teased and could see he was biting back a cocky grin.

“I was. I could go back and scare him some more since you seem so pleased about it.”

He cackled when you smacked his arm. Sleepless nights weren’t so bad anymore.

[luveline]

what about reader tispy or high at a party and tellin steve how pretty he is and he doesn't know how to handle it?

steve versus a very drunk and slightly high reader who really likes his face (warnings for implied drinking and r eating a weed brownie <3)

Steve takes in your drunken state with something close to horror, remembering exactly how this scenario had panned out for him the last time. You’re sitting on the arm of somebody’s sofa giggling down at your hands, clearly tipsy, your head lifting up slowly when he calls your name. 

“Stevie,” you say. He can’t gauge any one emotion from your voice. 

“Hey, what happened? I was only gone for ten minutes. The bathroom's an en-suite, by the way.” His bitterness over having to search the upstairs three separate times for a toilet is obvious. "D'you drink a whole fish bowl by yourself?"

You take the bottom of his jacket in your hand and pull him towards you, wrapping your arms around his thighs. He dips his chin to his chest to take you in, looking down at your glassy-eyed expression with some sympathy and more apprehension. 

“Are you okay?” he asks nervously. 

“I’m really stupid, Steve. When we first got here and I went to speak to Donna, like an hour ago? At the snack table? I had one of her brownies.”

Oh! You’re high. Of course you are. The weed must’ve just kicked in while he was gone. And then, “Hey, why were you at the snack table? You told me you weren’t hungry.”

You shove your face into his abdomen and sigh. “I lied, Steve.” Your voice, your tone, makes him want to laugh, suddenly so solemn.

Steve pushes his arms over your shoulders and dips down until the side of his chin brushed your temple. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m actually really hungry.”

His eyes slip closed in exasperation. He pats your back. “Idiot. This is why you shouldn’t lie.” You laugh. “What’s funny, Pinocchio?”

“Pinocchio!” You laugh harder, dizzy giggles that warm his chest before saying, “Steve, are you saying my nose is a foot long? That is so awful.”

He rolls his eyes and pulls away from your grip. “Here, get up. Let’s go raid the pantry.”

The pantry is stocked pretty well with snacks and Steve doesn’t feel even remotely bad for raiding it in the name of his girl.

“Hey, do you like the strawberry Pop-“ he cuts off, having turned and found you sitting on the floor. “Babe.”

“Yuh?” you ask, looking up. 

He sighs deeply and sits down in front of you, offering the box of Pop Tarts tentatively. You take them without looking at them, your gaze roving over his face greedily. He scratches his neck and tries not to show how shy he feels when you're looking at him like that. 

“Take a picture,” he says dryly.

“I don’t have a camera.”

He chuckles to himself and shuffles as close as he can, his crossed legs brushing your knees. You struggle with the Pop Tart packaging, fingers clumsy with the cardboard. You rip open the foil and it splits wide, the Pop Tarts falling out and into your lap, a hail of crumbs over your clothes. 

He takes the tarts into his hand and uses the other to brush you down. 

“Dummy. Are you sure you’re feeling okay? I know you didn’t mean to… take anything.”

“You don’t 'take' pot.”

“You didn’t smoke it,” he argues, forgetting the point.

“I ate it,” you say agreeably, taking back your tarts. “I feel great, Steve. Super. You want one of these?”

“No, you’re okay. You have them both, baby.”

You grin and sandwich them together, taking a big bite that sprays another wave of crumbs down your front. He doesn’t bother brushing these ones away, staring at you unabashed. He’s worried you’re going to get upset though he knows it’s unlikely. Even so, his body remembers, and he feels nauseous as you work your way through your sugary snack. 

You get a stripe of pinky-red icing on your face, from the corner of your mouth and over your cheek. 

"Here," he says, waving his hand at your face. You melt towards him and he wipes it away. 

You're looking at him intensely.

"What?" he asks through a laugh, paused with his hand on your cheek. 

"You…"

"What?" 

"You're so pretty. Handsome," you correct hurriedly. 

"Pretty?" he asks. 

You nod heavily. "You're pretty. My…" Steve slides his hand under your ear. "My pretty boy." 

You smile, lashes kissing at the corners, nothing but love on your face as you lean into his hand. "You have the nicest face ever." 

"What's the matter with you?" he asks, rubbing your cheek with his thumb just rough enough for your head to bob backwards. Your eyes close fully in response. Your smile grows. 

"Nothing," you say adamantly. 

Steve pulls you towards him. You're pretty floppy, your side falling into his chest, your face to his collar. "You're full of it." 

"You're soooo pretty," you whisper. 

"Stop it." 

You look up at him, your crown brushing his chin. "You are! Look-" you bring your hands to his face. His eyes widen and his hands tighten where they rest, arms wrapped around you lightly. "Look at your face." 

"I can't look at my own face." 

"Okay. I'll do it." 

He presses his lips together and lets you play with his face, gently squeezing his cheeks, then less so. Your eyes track over his eyes, his nose, his mouth. 

"Steve," you murmur, pouting at him. 

"Y/N." 

Your teeth appear as your smile grows blinding. You get another case of the giggles and they're infectious, the two of you laughing as your hands fall from his face to his neck and you wrap your arms around him, climbing into his lap. Steve accepts you readily, letting a big breath escape him as he tucks you into his arms. 

"Alright," he says, sighing, palm spreading over the breadth of your back. 

You press your face to his neck. "Prettiest boy ever."

"Give it a rest," he says sternly. Only glad you can't see the blush blooming over his skin. 

[once-upon-a-thigh]

HER

Summary: You’ve been at college for 3 years. Now it’s time to return home to old friends, and old(er) lovers. PERFECT LITTLE SECRET P3 18+

Pairings: Fem! Reader x Milf! Wanda Maximoff, Fem! Reader x Carol Danvers (brief), Reader x Yelena x Kate (platonic).

Warnings: Angst, fluff, smut, fingering, clothed sex, masturbation, large age gap, swearing, lords name in vain?? Couldn’t find my laptop charger so shitty phone format.

Lips crashed against each other as your bodies desperately ground against the other, aimlessly searching around for any bit of friction among the bedsheets in your dorm that will settle the pulsing of your core.

The hot frenzy was interrupted by the blaring of your ringtone. Ignoring it, you flipped the blonde over with all your strength, grinding down on the crotch of her jeans. The shrill ring didn’t seize however, so pushing yourself up and blowing the hair out of your face with an exasperated sigh, you picked up the device and put it to your ear, shushing the blonde that grabbed at your ass with a frustrated grunt.

“Bout time you picked up.” Drawled the Russian.

Your annoyance almost disappeared at the sound of Yelena’s voice, your friend from high school. You didn’t get to see her often, seeing as you had attended different universities for the last 3 years.

“Well I’m a little preoccupied.” You quirked, breathe still heavy.

“You better not be hooking up with Danvers again.”

You glanced down at the athlete you’re straddling, relieved that she can’t hear the disapproving voice down the line. “So what if I was?” You said through gritted teeth.

“Oh come on Y/N/N!” She exasperated, “she ruined your life!”

The guilt returns as it always did. Did she ruin your life? You still haven’t made up your mind. For a long time you thought so, but with every ignored text and voicemail message to Wanda, you started to convince yourself that maybe the older woman wasn’t the love of your life, that just maybe, Carol did the right thing by telling your parents that day. Still, you can’t help but hold some resentment towards her, hence why despite the fuck-buddy situation you have going on with her, you still refuse to have a full on relationship with the blonde no matter how much she asks.

Yelena took your silence as a sign to change the subject. “Anyway, I’ve called to invite you to a wedding.”

“It’s not yours and Kate’s is it?” You chuckled.

“Ew, as if.” She scoffed. “It’s Nat’s, she’s finally popped the question to Maria.”

“I don’t know Lena, I’m kinda disappointed that your sister’s off the market.” You teased, shuffling when you felt Carol tense under you.

“Fuck off.” You can practically hear her eyes rolling through the phone. “It’s this weekend.”

“This weekend? Christ, they hardly have given me any time to think about it.”

“What can I say? Lesbians.”

You shrugged at her short explanation. To be fair, it’s completely Natasha’s style to plan such an important event with such little time to prepare.

“Listen,” she continues, “I know you don’t like coming back home after everything that happened with your folks, but I miss you, or whatever.”

You rolled your eyes, but smiled anyway. “I’ll be there.”

If you knew that the invite Yelena presented you with would lead you to having a breakdown in your parents’ drive-way… well actually, you’re not all that surprised. Sure, the long drive to your home town had sent plenty of stressful thoughts and scenarios through your head, but the sight of the red Buick you knew all too well parked in the drive across the road confirmed them all. She was still here. She exists, she’s alive, and she still lives here.

You’re not sure how long you sat in your car just watching, waiting for any sign of movement behind the drawn curtains of the house. Her house.

You weren’t sure really how to feel. Wanda Maximoff dropped you the minute your parents threatened her that fateful night.

She didn’t answer the door no matter how much you knocked, and she didn’t answer the phone no matter how much you called. Still, she never blocked you, and your sent messages still remain on “read.” It sickens you how much hope that word fuelled you with, reminding you of the days you just sat there waiting for her to send a response, a response devoting herself to you and confessing her love all over again.

Stop it. You force your gaze to leave the car as you finally make the move to enter your childhood home. You’re over her.. Right?

The sound of silverware scraping dinner plates was the only sound breaking the thick tension of the dining room. Your parents are happy that you’re back, sure, and you were happy to see them. Still, your relationship with them hasn’t been the same since the exposure of your endeavours with Wanda. You fought hard with them for a while before you eventually up and moved for college, leaving a strained relationship with them behind.

Your time away from home (and a heck load of time in therapy) gave you enough time to process everything that happened, and even gave you the strength to forgive your parents. At the end of the day they were only doing what they believed was right in order to protect you, and you couldn’t help but love them for it now that you’ve matured.

Buzz, buzz

You glanced at your phone. Carol.

Buzz, buzz

“Those your college friends honey?” Your father spoke through a mouthful of potato.

“It’s just Carol” you muttered, turning it on do not disturb for an hour.

“Oh Carol!” Your mother tuned in. “I’m glad you’re still seeing her sweetheart, she’s a lovely girl.”

“Yeah.” You stated through gritted teeth.

“Why aren’t you bringing her to the wedding?”

You wiped your mouth with a napkin, stalling an answer to your mum’s nosiness. “I don’t have a plus one, I’m just going with Lena and Kate.”

“Oh,” you can see her cringe physically cringe, “those two.”

The doorbell rang. Speak of the devils.

“Gotta go!” The chair scraped as you got up from the table hastily, silverware clashing with plates as your knees bumped the table on your way up.

“Y/n!” You ignored the scolding as you sprinted to the door, flinging it open and throwing yourself at the two awaiting bodies.

The three of you clung on to each other, giggling when you caught your elbow on Kate’s chin. And just like that things felt normal, the three of you were just hanging out after school, and you hadn’t met Wanda yet.

“Dude! I just saw your ex milf peering through the window. She’s still hot.” Kate laughed, and silence followed.

“Kate, what the fuck?” Yelena looked at her dumbly, luckily not catching your eyes flickering to the quiet house across the street.

“Shit, sorry Y/n/n.” The tall girl pursed her lips.

“It’s alright.” You let out a half real/half fake chuckle, reaching up to throw an arm over her shoulder and steering her inside, the blonde closely following.

The girls ignored your parents, as they have been doing for the past three years, and followed you straight up to your room. For the next hour you laze around on your bed, gossiping, catching up and discussing Nat’s big day tomorrow.

“And she didn’t invite me to her hen night? Can you believe that?” Yelena is mid-rant about her sister (again) when your phone comes off do not disturb.

Buzz buzz

“I mean I’m so fun! Right? You agree with that right? I’m so fun?”

“You’re so fun!” Kate chimes in, sipping on the bottle of rum you had been passing around.

Buzz buzz

“Jesus, who the fuck is that y/n? I’m trying to be pathetic in peace here.” Yelena paused her rant, picking up your phone before you could grab it yourself.

“Oh, my, god.”

“Yelena-“ she pulls the phone away from you, standing up before you can grab it back and begins reading out the messages whilst pacing back and forth.

“I miss tasting you!” She reads, walking around the room as you follow her, making attempts at getting your phone back.

“Woah!” Kate exclaims, looking at you with a dropped jaw. Her mouth hangs open more little by little as Yelena continues to read the messages coming through.

“Why didn’t you invite me to the wedding, I mean I was right there”

“Y/n, pick up the phone.”

“I miss you.”

“You’re with her again aren’t you?”

“I love you, you know I do.”

“-For fucks sake Y/n, she’s mental!” Yelena is exclaims, concern painting her brow as she looks through the messages.

“Who’s this?” Kate leans over the bed, peering over Yelena’s shoulder to get a look at the phone. “Ugh, ‘Captain’? I thought you were done with her.”

“I’m trying to be!” You exasperate, star-fish collapsing on your bed. “It’s just hard, despite everything I know she’s at least going to be there when I need her, you know?”

“Yeah, cause she left you no other choice.” Yelena scoffed. “She’s getting weird babe, it’s time you drop her. For real.”

“Alright.” You roll your eyes. She was getting pretty needy to be fair.

Buzz

“Oh here we go- oh, fuck.” Sitting up, you see the pair looking at each other in shock.

“What is it?” You take your phone back, but not before Yelena gets a final swipe in. Looking at the screen, you see nothing but needy messages from Carol.

“Nothing,” Lena shrugs, shooting Kate a suspicious look. “Just Danvers being a freak.”

Soon the girls left, leaving you alone in your room. It had gone dark outside now, the moon illuminating the parts of your childhood bedroom that the dim bedside lamp could not reach. Your parents had long gone to bed, and there you stood, standing in front of the window and finally letting yourself take in reality. The curtains of her window were closed, but you could see a smidge of light seeping out of the slight gap in the curtain. It was too far away to see in the gap, but the light was enough. You knew she was there, and just the thought left you absolutely soaked.

It seemed like just yesterday your breath was fogging up that very window, chest pressed against the glass, heaving with every pump of her hips. Suddenly you were hot, so very hot. It had been a while since you thought of her like this- actually, that’s a lie. You thought of her like this a lot. What you hadn’t done in a while, is touched yourself whilst thinking of her like this. You usually had distractions, you had Carol. But this time you were alone, and so with the curtains wide open, you began to strip. You took your clothes off slow and sultry, like you used to knowing she was looking. You closed your eyes and pretended, you pretended it was three years ago and the woman you pine for is watching from the window across the street and you show her what’s hers.

Goosebumps followed every brush of your hands as you shred the clothes from your body, breath getting heavier, pussy getting wetter. Before you knew it you were throwing yourself on to your bed, reaching over for the vibrator that had been long forgotten in your bedside table. You let out a sigh of relief as it came to life with a click of the button, the batteries still work. You teased it over the hard peaks of your nipples as you lowered it to your aching core, gasping when it was finally pressed against your pulsing clit.

Fantasies and memories alike flood through your mind as you rubbed the vibrator against your aching bud with one hand, two fingers from the other entering your hole. There was always one common factor with these thoughts, Wanda. You fucked yourself vigorously as you thought of her, of what she might do to you if she was here. Fuck, you missed her. You came with her name slipping past your lips, and with that you knew you weren’t over her, you never could be.

Feeling relief, and some slight self-judgement over what you had just done, you switched the light off before turning over to sleep. Had you been facing the window, maybe you would have seen the slight twitch of her curtains, and her light switching off soon after yours.

Pulling your pencil knee length dress down as you stood, you clapped as the beautiful newlyweds began to make their way down the aisle “I can’t believe they pulled it off,” you muttered to the sobbing brunette beside you.

“T-that was so beautiful.” Kate managed to comment through sobs.

“Oh for god’s sake Bishop keep it together” Yelena elbowed her on her other side.

Nat and Maria’s ceremony was beautiful. Despite it being planned so last minute, it was well put together. They managed to host the wedding at their friend’s hotel. It was quiet and small, only close family and friends attended the ceremony. Now, more people were slowly migrating through the doors as the reception went full swing.

You were just getting in to the ABBA song playing over the speakers, politely sipping on your martini when you were aggressively turned around by your friends that had been acting weird all evening.

“Hey! Heyyy Y/n” Kate grinned weirdly at you.

“Uh, hi Kate?” You looked between the two of them, getting weirded out by how they were smiling awkwardly and constantly glancing over your shoulder. You turned to see what they were looking at, but was immediately pulled back by Yelena’s hand on your face.

“Y/n we have to tell you something!” Kate suddenly screeched.

“No we don’t!” Lena glared at her.

“Oh come on Yel! We can’t avoid her all night.” She groaned, loosening her purple tie.

The blonde ran her fingers through her hair in frustration. “Fine! Y/n, Kate has to tell you something.”

“Oh fuck off Yelena!” Rebutted the brunette.

“Fine! I have to tell you something..”

You began to get nervous. “Uh, okay?”

“Last night, when I was looking at Carol’s messages.. another one came through..”

“Okay? And?” You tried to catch her gaze, but her eyes kept darting between you and whatever it was that was happening behind you.

“It was Wanda.” She winced.

…

“What?”

“She wanted to let you know she was coming to the wedding..”

“What?”

“I had no idea she knew Nat or Maria I swear!”

“Why didn’t I see the message?” You questionably muttered, your brain feeling completely frazzled.

“I deleted it.” She physically winced.

“What? Why?” You yelled over the music.

“Because I knew you’d freak out!”

“And THIS is better? Oh my god! I’ve got to go! I’ve gotta get out, KATE HELP ME GET OUT!” You shook the brunette by her shoulders.

“It’s too late Y/n!” She pointed behind you.

Finally you turned around, and your heart skipped a beat when your eyes met the green of hers.

Her name dusted your lips on instinct, a name you found yourself missing saying, missing moaning. She looked different, not bad different, just different. Her hair was longer and brighter, combating the dullness in her orbs. Her jaw and cheekbones are more strongly defined than the supple skin you used to kiss. She was slimmer, she almost looked taller. But she was still Wanda. Your Wanda.

Once you came to you finally realised the two of you had just been stood staring at each other from across the room, both taking the other in. You knew you looked different too, and you found yourself hoping she still saw the girl she once loved in you.

“I should, um..” You didn’t even finish whatever your excuse was going to be before your feet were carrying you towards her. She stayed rooted in place, but didn’t break her stare once.

The walk towards her felt like it was forever, though it was only maybe ten seconds. Ten seconds that you spend trying to come up with something to say. Though when you stop just a foot in front of her, you’ve got nothing.

You stood with your mouth open like a fish out of water before you managed to slip out a shy “Hi-”

“-You are so beautiful.” She said at the same time as your pathetic greeting with a sweet delicacy.

“Oh..” Was all you could get your stupid mouth to say.

She looked at you with the same gentleness she usually did, with soft eyes and a tender smile. “How is it possible for you to be even more beautiful than you were then?”

“Well I guess I grew up.” Finally your brain remembered to form sentences.

“I guess you did.” She glanced at the floor, breaking the stare off you didn’t even realise you were having. “Y/n,” your breath hitched hearing her say your name, “will you walk with me?”

You looked at the hand she was offering to you, unsure one what your next move should be.

“I completely understand if you want to go back to your friends and pretend I was never here,” she said strongly, “but I would really like the opportunity to explain myself to you.”

You’re not sure if this explanation was going to make or break you, but god you know you wanted to hear it. So for the first time in 3 years, you took her hand, and followed.

She led you out the doors and through the busy end of the garden until you came across a still, lonely pond. Forgetting about your nice dress that you did not intend to get dirty tonight, you plonked yourself onto the grass, freezing up when she sat next to you.

You broke the silence. “What are you even doing here?”

Wanda thought for a few seconds before she answered. “When what happened, happened.. I guess your friend told Natasha about everything. A week later Maria shows up at my door, and I’m thinking your parents have actually done it, you know? Told everyone? But she sat me down and she just.. let me talk about you, and she supported me. She helped me through everything and if it wasn’t for her I.. I don’t know. She became my friend when I really needed one. Anyway of course she invited me to her wedding and she was kind enough to warn me you were going to be here. I figured I should probably reach out..”

“Yeah I didn’t exactly get that message.” You laughed, “Yelena panicked and deleted it before I could see it.”

She chuckled, “those friends of yours, I always liked them.”

“I thought they annoyed you.” I teased.

“They were slightly annoying,” she laughed, nodding her head. “But they care for you, and they’ve been good friends to you.”

Bitterness swelled when you recalled one of the main reasons as to why you needed their care in the first place. “Yeah well, god knows I needed it.”

She swallowed, slowly nodding. “I’m sorry.”

You scoffed.

“I am Y/n, you have no idea how much.” She faced you, grabbing your hands in hers. You couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. Any measly contact from her sends you in to a secret euphoria. “I swear you have no idea how much I wanted to reach out to you, how many times I picked up the phone without pressing accept, how many times I stood on the other side of the door without opening it-“

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” You ripped your hands away from here, but she immediately grabbed them back.

“No! I’m just-“ her lip quivered, you could see her eyes getting watery just as yours were. “I’m just trying to tell you that what I said that day, after your parents caught us, I meant it. I have never wanted anyone like I have wanted you, which is why it was so hard to let you go.”

“So why did you?” You asked calmly.

“Because as real as we were your parents were kind of right too. I’m old, Y/n, and you were, are, so young. I have two kids, an ex-husband, I spend my Friday nights baking and my Saturdays at book club! What business did someone like me have being with someone like you?” She cried.

“Because you loved me! You love me.” Salty tears rolled over the corners of your lips, swollen from how much you had been biting them without even realising.

“I did,” she nodded “I do.”

Your wet doe eyes dropped to her red lips as she drew nearer, tilting back at her eyes again which had gone darker in just a second. They were harrowing and loving, as she wondered what the hell she had been doing those years without you.

“Three years without you was everything and nothing all at once.” She spat out passionately before quickly pressing her lips against yours. You immediately kissed back, the thought of pushing her way not even gracing your mind for a millisecond. Subconsciously, you had been waiting for this moment for a long time.

“I never stopped thinking about you.” She whispered between desperate kisses. Oh, how you missed this.

“Me neither.” You replied, grasping at her suit jacket with selfish hands, falling back on to the grass and pulling her half on top of you. You quivered as her ringed fingers explored your matured curves, slowly moving on from soft grazes to rough grips of the flesh of your thighs and ass.

“I fucking love you detka, you’re never leaving me again. You belong with me, understand?” She spoke in to your neck after she kissed her way down your jaw. You whimpered at the pet name, this being the first time you’ve heard it in so long. You could feel your lace getting uncomfortably wet as you soaked in her possessive talk.

She pinched your thigh when you didn’t respond. “Understand?”

“Yes mommy I understand!” You squealed.

She moaned against your mouth at the term, she missed hearing you whimper it, moan it, scream it.

It has been quite some time since you said it too, and just like that you were snapped back in to the space you once were, forever and always hers.

“Touch me, please mommy, touch my pussy.” You begged through a whisper, looping your fingers in the belt loops by her hips, pulling her in to you until you could feel the gyrating of her hips against your thigh.

She groaned, dropping her head to leave open, wet kisses on your exposed cleavage as she got lost in the feeling of her heat grinding against the muscle of your thigh. She slipped a warm hand up the skirt of your dress, not wasting a second before she was pushing your panties aside and gathering your wetness among her fingers.

She withdrew her hand and traced her slick fingers over your bottom lip. “Can anyone other than mommy make you this wet?”

You shook your head rigorously, tongue reaching out to taste yourself. You didn’t get the chance as she was already sticking them in her own mouth, moaning at the taste. “Mm I’ve missed your taste baby, but I can take my time with that later. For now, you need your cute little cunt fucked don’t you?”

You barely had time to respond before you were throwing your head back, moaning out her name as she plunged two long fingers in to you, curling them in a come hither motion with every thrust. You could only imagine the grass stains your dress would be covered in after this, your back rubbed and wriggled against the green blades with every thrust of her wrist. She put all her body in to fucking you, getting herself off on your thigh at the same time.

You grabbed and scratched at every part of the older woman that you could reach as your body grew rigid as it reached its release.

Wanda chuckled darkly against your sweat-shined skin. “Already detka? It’s a good thing we’ve got all night.”

You came hard on her fingers, harder than you have in the last three years. She was right, no one else could possibly make you feel like this. She ground her hips in to you harder, moaning lowly as the friction against her clit brought her to her climax not long after your own. She collapsed on your still body, breathing heavily as she rolled on to her back, pulling you in to her side.

You still couldn’t believe this was real, who knew this is where you’d end up upon returning home. Part of you wished you had come back sooner. A quiet whisper slipped past your lips, but she heard it. “I missed you.”

Pulling you closer, she pressed her puffy lips to your forehead in a firm kiss. “I missed you too darling.” She brushed her nose against yours, gazing in to your eyes. “I was serious you know, I’m not letting you go.”

“I know,” you smiled, “I’m not going anywhere.”

—————————————————

I finally did it! Aaaah! Thank you to whoever stuck around long enough to read the third instalment of Perfect Little Secret, I hope you liked it.

I proof read this in between reps at the gym so you can only imagine how that was, sorry if there’s any mistakes.

Meg 😘

[projectbluearcadia]

"Oops."

This is just the kind of scenario that pops up in my head a lot. The walls in the House of Lamentation have ears. (Suggestive)

---

“MC, my room. Now,” Lucifer snapped when he saw the mess you and Mammon had made. As usual, Mammon was getting himself in trouble with a so-called good idea and you were roped into it. This time, it had been adopting a feral demon.

Mammon, of course, had wanted to become a selective breeder after he heard about what purebred dogs are worth. Though now he gave up on that because he was a little too attached to the pair of Harumons he’d just adopted. 

In any case, the living room was an absolute disaster area, and Lucifer was very clearly pissed. 

“I-It was me! Why're you taking MC??” Mammon cried after Lucifer, and he turned a glare back at his little brother. 

“I’ll deal with you later.” 

And he left Mammon in silence, dragging MC by the collar. 

Guilty and feeling scared for the resident human, he followed and debated outside Lucifer’s door whether or not he should knock it down and rescue her. 

“L-Listen, Lucifer we can talk about th—Ah!” Mammon flinched at the high-pitched cry against the door accompanying a loud thud. 

“MC…” Lucifer’s lowered voice rasped. “I think I already warned you there would be consequences for doing something stupid like this.” 

“You’re not my dad!”

“No,” Lucifer replied, and a whimper resounded through the wood, making Mammon shiver. Should he risk it and jump in? Should he? “But you serve me, now don’t you MC?” 

“Well…y-yes…” 

“And since you so willingly went along with whatever that idiot’s harebrained scheme was this time, you’re going to make me feel better.” 

“M-My knees are still sore… sir.” Mammon was half tempted to break in there, a little enraged at the thought of whatever physical punishment he’d given to her. Didn't he know that human was fragile!? And how could he do that when she was so cute anyway!?

“Then rest assured that I’ll make something else sore today.”

“W-Wait, Lu-Lucifer,” she gasped before she let out a surprised cry, and Mammon felt his ears turn hot as the sound of a kiss and something else reached his ears. 

“No waiting,” Lucifer growled, breathless as she panted. “I’ve been waiting.” 

“Ah! N-Not there!” she cried out, still heaving for breath, and Mammon flinched as he heard a thump against the door. 

“Why not? You’re shaking your hips like you’re enjoying it. Dirty girl.” 

Fuckin’ hell, Mammon thought. He’s doin' it that way…. Come to think of it, I think Levi was complaining about that earlier... I really should lea--

“Ahn?! Lucifer, why did you lick me!?” 

Mammon's ears turned pink at the sound that came out of her mouth, and he found himself desperately wishing that he was in Lucifer's place.

“Would you have preferred I childishly bit you like I wanted to?" Lucifer chuckled to himself. "But you want me to lick somewhere else, don’t you? If you want that, then you’re going to beg for it… and I’ll make you scream so loud that the entire house will know.”

“A-Aren’t you afraid they’ll get scared…?” 

“They know I’m here, and they know damn well I’d never let anything happen to you. They’ll know exactly why you’re screaming. I promise.” 

Mammon covered his reddened face with a groan. That asshole knew I was gonna follow to make sure she was okay, didn' he? Fuck. I'm not sleepin' tonight...

As a bonus, when the other brothers found out that Mammon was the reason that Lucifer was making MC scream louder than usual, they casually bullied him the next day. Lucifer was satisfied.

MC later made them make up and screwed them both ruthlessly.

[lavandulawrites]

The Grocery Trip

Yandere Alhaitam x reader

I had a dream about yandere Alhaitam and me going to a grocery store (though in the dream it was in the modern era). I wanted some sort of unhealthy drink powder and he refused to buy it. I just felt like I had to make this scenario into a fic. I am thinking of writing different grocery store scenarios with different yandere genshin men.

Masterlist

Word count: 597

The grocery store was quiet save from the bell which chimed whenever a customer entered. A colourful isle caught your eye. Rows upon rows were filled with colourful items from Fontaine.

You turned to your grey haired companion. “Can we take a look at the new items from Fontaine? Please?”

Alhaitam’s expression unamused. “Fine” his answer followed by a sigh. His hand that were not holding the basket, linked with yours. The gesture was meant to look like a romantic gesture, but you knew he was only trying to make you stick with him.

Upon a closer inspection some of the various Fontainan gods were things you had never heard off. Some were nutritious meals that you only needed to heat up and some were rather unhealthy snacks.

A orange red container with a logo of a smiling strawberry caught your eye. Frizzy Pop. You took a hold of the container and turned it around to read the description. It was some sort of powder you mixed with water to get a sweet and refreshing drink. Just what you needed.

With a smile you turned towards Alhaitam. “Can we get this? It looks really delicious!” you waved the box in front of his face which earned you a scowl.

“Absolutely not” his expression stern.

You rolled your eyes “Why not?”

He grabbed the Frizzy Pop out of your hand and inspected it like it was a the most serious thing. “You can’t even pronounce 85% of these ingredients”

“Ugh come on!” you threw your head back and dramatically sighed. “Why must you be so strict?”

“Call me strict all you want. I just care about your wellbeing. Is that so hard to understand?” Alhaitam crossed his arms. His muscles flexing slightly with annoyance.

You whined and dragged your hand across your face in irritation. “I am my own person. I don’t really need to listen to you!”

“Oh yeah? What would be of you if you didn’t, hmm? Would you perhaps be living on the streets? Oh that’s right… You would” his eyes cold. What he said was true. He had indeed helped you out of a though financial crisis and given you a place to live. In exchange he had kept you under his watchful eyes in the name of love. At least that’s what he so bluntly called it.

“It’s a drink powder Alhaitam. It’s not a big deal! And besides I already follow your recommended nutrition plan”. He had given you a long list of foods you could and could not eat. He had been very strict about it and he made few exceptions. He said it was in your best interest. You did argue with him at first. You hated how he thought he had the right to choose what you ate or not, but after a while you stopped with the arguments. You had noticed how on edge he had been lately and you knew very well that he was extremely close to just look you away in his house.

“It is a big deal. If you actually had any knowledge about nutrition and different ingredients you would know what I mean” he scoffed. His arrogant tone making your eye twitch.

“Now let’s put this back and pay for our things” he put the container back in place.

He squeezed your arm with his bicep in a warning. “ I really do love you, you know?” he pressed a quick kiss on the top of your head. His blue orange eyes filled with love deeper than what you could ever wish to understand.

[aspenthewriter]

hi! i was wondering if you could do some nsfw headcannons or a fic for a fem reader with velvet? if not that's ok!!

cruising down the street in my lam- HMMM?? A note I see.. let’s open it!!

“Hi! I was wondering if you could do some nsfw headcannons or a fic for a fem reader with velvet? If not that’s okay!”

WHY OF COURSE ANON!!!

AGED UP‼️🔞

Fandom: Trolls 3/Band together

warnings: Nsfw.. nsfw alphabet to be specific- idk what else you’d put here-

pairing: velvet x Fem! Reader

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

She makes sure your okay before doing anything else, she’ll run a bath and clean you up, then she’ll get your favorite snacks and some water while you sit there cuddling and watching a movie (ik she’s full of herself but she’s probably love drunk rn okay!)

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

thighs. Thighs. THIGHS. She loves your thighs. She loves squishing them, probably gives them small kisses and bites before and after she eats you out

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

loves seeing her fingers coated in your cum after she completely fingered your raw hole into oblivion

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

she has an entire album saved on her phone and an actually photo album of pictures of you while she pleases you

she’ll never tell you about them or show them to you

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

she’s probably doesn’t know exactly what she’s doing but she will find out what spots make you shudder under her touch and which ones don’t

she knows how to please you, in EVERY. SINGLE. WAY.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

missionary, she loves seeing your face as she pleases you to no end

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

she’ll crack some light hearted jokes but overall she’s more serious

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Probably doesn’t like the feeling of any hair being on her other than her hair and eyebrows so she’s just cleanly shaven

so bald asf (like her forehe-)

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

EXTREMELY ROMANTIC

lights up candles and plays music in the background

rose pedals are all over the bed and she kisses you with such passion as she thinks of all the things she’ll do to you

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

not one to masturbate tbh

like if she’s really needy and your away or something then she’d probably do it to get some form of release but other than that nope

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

praise kink. She loves giving you praise as well as you giving her praise, she’ll tell you how good your doing for her while you tell her how good she’s making you feel

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

bedroom or bathroom

she doesn’t like the feeling or the thought of doing it anywhere else

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

wear anything purple and lacey and your not gonna walk for a little bit

she loves the look of Lacey lingerie on your body

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

she’ll never hurt you, the thought of hurting you just makes her head spin (not in a good way)

call her mommy and she’s done for the day, probably ignores you for weeks

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

she loves giving it, the only thing she prefers to receive is gifts

she’ll eat you out like she’s been starved for days, weeks, months doesn’t matter she’s EATING YOU OUTTT

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

depends how your feeling, if your in a more saddened mood then she’ll go slow and senual

While if your a little bratty she’s rough, she’ll fuck that attitude right out of you

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

she only likes quickies if they’re before a show, she probably started thinking of little scenarios while getting ready and a really nasty one popped in her mind so now she has to put those fantasies into reality

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

she’ll experiment just depends with what.

Fucking Out in a public? Maybe but it’ll take a lot of convincing

trying a threesome or an open relationship? Hell no she wants you all to herself

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

she can last a whileeeee

10 round max (like an hour each round)

Really depends how long you can last

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

omg yes! STRAP ON BABY!!! Besties fr

probably owns like 10 vibrators, specifically for you

it’s all for you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

she’ll be so unfair

she’ll edge you on until your practically begging for her to touch you

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Quiet moans, not too loud but still loud enough for you to hear

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

she’ll fuck you against her vanity before veneer comes back from giving people unibrows and when veneer does come back and your a sweaty mess she’ll play it off as if nothing happened while he was away

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

uhh wtf do I put for this?- I guess we can talk about the dildos she uses on tou

she has about 3 big ones, 9.5 inch’s, 10.8 inch’s, and 12.3 inch’s

then 2 medium size ones, 6.4 inch’s, and 7.3 inch’s

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?

medium sex drive, not too high, not too low, she’ll fuck you whenever but she’s not like a feral fuck machine

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

won’t sleep until she knows your taken care of, when you are she falls asleep so fast, cradling your body with her long arms, sweet kissing on your forehead before she slips off into dream land

HOLY FUCK- this was rushed- it’s fucking 2am and I need sleep

hope yall enjoyed it.. anyways bye yall :3

-Aspen out

[bokettochild]

Through The Keyhole, See Another Life

Inspired by the giant flannel I've been wearing for the last week and how happy it makes me. This popped into my head at work because of it so.... here you go!

Fandom: Linked Universe

Characters: Time, Legend Four

Words: 1,954

Rating: Gen

Summary: The Chain are visiting the ranch, and while most of the other boys are finishing their chores, Time stumbles across Four introducing Legend to one of his guilty pleasures.

"Four, no." 

Time glances up at the very firm voice echoing down the stairs. He’s not sure if the boys even know he’s come back to the main house yet, not with the guest room being on the backside of the house and unable to see the door and all. Usually, someone would have noticed the sound of the door opening, but all the other boys are outside with Malon, helping with the chores while their smithy and veteran rested inside. 

The battle in his world had been a hard one, and as much as fairies and potions can do, they seemingly can’t prevent Legend’s chronic pain or Four’s migraines, both of which had been worsening for days even before arriving at the ranch. Malon, naturally, had insisted that both boys be allowed to sleep in today, and given they’d still been curled up tight in bed, tense and stressed even while asleep, he’d been inclined to agree.  

It appears they’re awake now though, no doubt having found the breakfast laid just inside the door of their room for them, since no one had known if either would be willing to risk the stairs to find something while the rest of them were outside working. Still, he’d probably better check. He's been a bit worried about the two, and now that Malon has ordered him inside (he honestly wasn’t kicked that hard! The cows are just big!) he has plenty of time on his hands while the rest of his boys finish their assigned chores under his wife’s guidance. 

“Why on earth not?” The smithy’s voice is a bit higher as it trails down the stairs to where he’s shucking off his boots and stretching out his back, feeling every one of his years, even the ones that technically didn’t happen. 

Legend’s sigh is audible even through the floorboards, a soft groan probably accompanying a motion. “Because I don’t want to get in trouble?” 

There’s a part of time that wants to snort at the words; the two heroes sound like children arguing about pulling a prank on their parents, but then the fact that he and Malon would be said parents in that situation hits him and it’s not as funny. Additionally, these are teen heroes, the idea that Legend is wary about it means whatever Four wants to do is either very dumb, very silly, or very dangerous, and he’s not sure which is the worse scenario. 

He moves for the stairs, ears tuned closely to the door above, but feet quiet so they won’t hear him coming. 

“I do this all the time, it’s nice! Come on, you’d love it if you let yourself.” 

Okay then, less a worry, he pauses, listening. They’d probably resent that, but he’s curious now, and still a bit wary. He has to remind himself that Legend and Four are, in fact, two of the more level headed heroes- most of the time. At any rate, they’re usually pretty responsible, so even if he’s more used to Wild and Wind and (Hylia help him) Warriors, he really shouldn’t doubt them so much. 

“Yes,” the bed upstairs creaks, “but you’re you. I’m me. There’s a big difference in how they’d react to you doing this- heck, Twilight would probably think it’s cute from you, and Sky definitely would-” definitely not dangerous then, or risky, or likely to cause damage of any sort “-but it’d be a whole different story with me.” 

“You’re just scared to try.” Four taunts, headache clearly gone. 

The bed creaks, like someone’s flopped on it. “Four, I am in too much pain to sit through Twilight chewing me out for being an ‘asshole’ again.” There’s a tick in the vet’s voice, a small hitch on the offending title. Come to think of it, his pup does tend to call the vet that pretty frequently. 

Four doesn’t pause though, continuing his insistence on...whatever he’s insisting. “Then don’t touch Twilight’s things, he can’t be mad on someone else’s behalf.” 

“He is.” Legend clips back. “frequently.” 

Does his pup really chew the vet out that much? 

“Blame me,” the smithy suggests, off-handed.” 

The bed creaks again, a longer one, most likely as it’s resident shifts to face the smithy. He can imagine the deadpan tired stare and heavy sigh that likely touches their young vet’s face. “That’s the definition of an asshole move.” 

“Then let me say it was my fault.” 

“Again, you’re different. They‘d excuse it from you, but as a person with my own free will, they will blame me for-” 

“Oh stop being a stick-in-the-mud!” Four huffs, petulant almost. He must be in one of his more childish moods, no doubt Red’s fault. It happens from time to time when they’re in a safe place and the smithy isn’t constantly around the other heroes. He didn’t think Legend would be allowed to see it, but maybe he’s wrong about that, because the smithy’s voice definitely has picked up the mannerisms of his more emotional aspect. “Just take this and put it on!” 

Are they....is Four trying to get Legend to play dress up of some kind? 

“Is that Time’s?” It’s hesitant, guarded, wary.  

“He won’t mind, or notice either, I expect. He never does.” 

Is Four getting into his things without his knowing? Since when? Time’s feet start back up the stairs again, only to pause once more at the vet’s hesitant voice. 

“You sure he won’t crucify me or something?” 

Malon’s going to kill him. That’s the impression he’s giving these younger heroes? 

“Just do it,” Four huffs, “stop being a baby.” 

And of course, insulting Legend is no way to get him to make the smart decision, whatever it is they're on about. He sets up the stairs again, creeping to the door of the guest room once he's reached the second floor and peeking around the door frame. The door’s still shut, but it’s little trouble to turn the handle ever so slowly and push it open enough to see what’s going on inside. 

He’s not expecting what he sees. 

Four is standing in the middle of the room, Sky’s embroidered undershirt hanging off of him like a rather short dress as he stares at the vet who’s still sitting on the bed where Time had left both of them early this morning. The vet, in turn, has similarly shed his own sweaty clothes, which he can see tossed over a nearby chair, and the pink-haired teen is currently drowning in what he recognizes to be one of his own tunics. The collar isn’t laced yet, but the vet is currently yanking at it to stop it trying to slip off a shoulder, struggling though because the sleeves of the outfit seem to have utterly swallowed his hands. 

Four giggles. Red is definitely fronting, although the smile he sees on the smith’s face is more like Green’s. “Let me help.” 

  “It’s just the sleeves,” the other boy huffs, “I got it.” He doesn’t. 

Time finds himself stifling a chuckle as he watches the vet fumble and fuss, switching between trying to free his hands and trying to tighten the collar. Any worries that the two were up to anything nefarious have long since vanished, although his will to see what they’re doing hasn’t. 

They look like actual kids like this, Four decked out in stollen finery and Legend drowning in Time’s own clothes, much too big for him, to the point that with the next attempt to free his hands, long sleeves flap freely and loose in an effort of some sort (he can only presume) to make them fall down naturally. That effort though is quickly forgotten, the vet’s face loosening, softening somewhat, eyes wide as he pauses and then tentatively flaps the sleeves again. Four giggles, and Legend’s chuffing laughter follows it as he grins as his trapped hands and the excess fabric that shakes and snaps with his quick movements. 

“Welcome,” the smithy sounds, “to the wonders of over-sized clothes. You’re welcome.” 

“I hate you,” Legend sighs, but there's not a bit of actual malice in the words as he flops back against the pillows on the bed, seemingly having given up on trying to fit into Time’s clothes and instead accepting his fate. The boy’s face screws up a moment later in confusion though, and he lifts a hand to his face again with a frown, sniffing slightly at the shirt sleeve. 

Time desperately, desperately hopes that Four didn’t steal that from his travel bag or dirty laundry. Except, he must not have, because Legend’s face softens again, this time into a smile, and he curls up a bit, burying his face in the fabric with a little hum that is strangely out of place for the harsh veteran they all have come to know. More so though, is the way Legend rubs his face across the fabric, ears flapping. It’s strangely adorable. 

“Nice?” Four is definitely gloating. 

Legend’s face rises for a moment out of the sleeves, a whole different person than Time knows, bitter-sweet smile and flushed cheeks. “’t smells like home.” 

Something in his chest clenches violently. 

There’s no such reaction from the smith though, who just looks pleasantly surprised, but nods it off with a smile, moving a bit closer and settling on the bedside, careful not to stir it and earning a brief look of thanks from the vet who is, now that he looks, still a bit pale and carrying tension around his shoulders and eyes. “Really?” 

“Yeah” violet eyes fall down to stare at long sleeves, hand flapping slightly inside again, but not enough to do more than make the fabric shift and shuffle a bit. “Time must use the same aftershave as-” a pause, a twitch of the face into a frown. “It’s a familiar scent.” 

It’s also a new one. Malon had got it for him for their wedding anniversary last year. He forgets what she called it, but she loves it, so he does too. On the road, it hardly matters what he smells like, but it makes him think of her and, like the captain says, it’s good to do small things for yourself even when traveling and fighting and struggling. Life’s not much worth living if it’s all harsh and you deny yourself even the small joys accessible to you. For him, that joy is remembering how his wife beams and showers him with kisses once he’s fresh faced again, but in the room before him, it can also mean stealing your team-mates' too big clothes and curling up in them when you aren’t feeling your best. 

The smile that pulls across his face as Legend rolls over to face Four better, curled up tightly in himself as the smithy laughs about something, both looking peaceful, is also one of those things. 

For a moment, a precious, fleeting moment, he can almost forget the two boys in the bedroom across from his own are heroes who have to save the world. Instead, he can almost imagine them waking up there and joining farm chores every day. No pain brought on by whatever these two have faced would exist in such a world and instead they’d be free to run wild around the barnyard, racing to finish chores or pulling pranks and making mischief like boys their age should be doing. 

It’s a nice picture, and not even properly bitter-sweet, even though he knows it can’t be, because they're still there in front of him, peaceful and content and chattering quietly, one of his boys curled up in his shirt and the other in Sky’s, both discussing scents and colognes and what smells signal home. 

[proxima-writes]

title: the babysitter | part 2

part 1

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller/babysitter!female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 3858

summary:

Joel is ready to move on from last week's....incident.

You're not going to let him off the hook that easy.

author's note: the people have spoken, and they want more joel x babysitter! everyone owes this anon for their original request. thank you all so much for your support on my works and for 600 followers. please consider leaving a comment or reblogging if you enjoyed!

you can also buy me a coffee

content warnings: explicit sexual content (18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT), pre-outbreak, age difference (21f and 36m), no use of y/n, sarah is younger than canon, joel's guilt about power imbalance dynamics and age gap, major daddy kink, dirty talk, guided masturbation, snooping/perv behavior, mentions of joel being on the atkins diet, begging, praise kink, pet names, orgasm control, unprotected p in v, limited aftercare. let me know if any are missing!

Joel’s palms are sweaty as he checks his watch for the hundredth time. You’re due at his house in five minutes for your scheduled evening of babysitting so that he can go out with his brother, Tommy, and he wouldn’t be such a nervous wreck if not for the fact that the last time you were here, he’d gotten his mouth on your delicious cunt and the taste of you is the only thing he’s had on his mind for the past six days.

He tries to block out the vision you’d made, writhing around on his tongue and fingers, hips flexing against his face as you try to keep quiet, but it’s a fruitless effort. And when he catches himself thinking about you, the guilt rolls through him in equal measure. You’re young, too young, and Sarah’s babysitter. His daughter adores you and would be devastated if he had to replace you because he can’t keep his fucking dick under control.

Which is why he’s so nervous tonight. He needs to be the adult in this scenario and put his foot down. What happened was a mistake and he would very much like to move past it, so long as you’re comfortable with that. If you don’t want to babysit Sarah anymore, he’ll just have to grin and bear it.

A knock at the door interrupts his nervous pacing. Sarah flies down the stairs in a flurry of curly hair and gangly adolescent limbs, opening the door and immediately wrapping her arms around you. You hug the girl back, smoothing her hair and smiling down at her as she launches into a retelling of her past week away from you. Your undivided attention to his daughter and your kind, patient smile as you listen to her story make his heart clench in his chest.

Finally, you look up at Joel, giving him a sweet little smile of his own. He swallows nervously.

“Sarah, could you head upstairs and give us a sec to talk?” He asks his daughter. She pouts, grumbling about wanting to play Jenga, but does as she’s asked. You look at Joel expectantly.

“Listen, I just…wanted to apologize for last week,” he starts, running a hand through his hair nervously. “What I did was extremely inappropriate. And if you don’t want to babysit Sarah anymore–”

“Woah, hey. Everything’s totally fine, Mr. Miller,” you say, cutting him off. 

He lets out a deep breath. “Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent,” you reply. You place a hand on his shoulder and he can feel the heat of it through the cotton like a brand. He feels stuck in place as you squeeze gently, before letting your hand slide down his arm as you remove it. “I’m absolutely sure.”

You wink at him before taking a step back and head in the direction of Sarah’s room without looking back at him.

Shit.

______

You’re playing Jenga with Sarah, as promised when Joel pops his head into her room to say goodbye to his daughter. The young girl squeezes him tightly around his middle, looking up at him with all the love in her eyes. Your smile is soft as you watch the pair.

You’ve been Sarah’s babysitter for three years now, since she was three years old and Joel reached out to you at the recommendation of his neighbor, your former English teacher in high school. Back then, the stress of navigating the terrible twos and threenager stages of toddlerhood had really been wearing the single father down. Between his hard labor as a contractor and a strong willed daughter, he had been stretching himself thin.

You remember when you first met him. He’d answered the door with his hair still wet from the shower, slicked back from his handsome face. His brown eyes had faint circles beneath them and his smile was tight as he ushered you inside and introduced you to his daughter.

The little girl had acted shy but all it took was telling her your favorite Disney princess for her to emerge from her shell, her little fingers wrapping around yours to lead you to her room to show off her doll collection.

It gives you a quiet sense of satisfaction to look at Joel now and see that the circles of exhaustion have faded and that the tension in his shoulders has eased thanks to the break you afford him. You want to take care of him. To please him.

In more ways than one.

You shake yourself free of your thoughts as Joel turns to say goodbye to you. He lifts his hand in an awkward little wave before heading downstairs. You hear the front door open and shut, breathing a sigh of relief. The Jenga blocks tumble to the floor with Sarah’s next move, drawing you back to the present.

There will be time later to think about Joel. 

You just have to be patient.

________

You quietly shut the door to Sarah’s room before tip-toeing down the hall to the closed door of the master bedroom. Your heart beats wildly in your chest as you tentatively turn the knob.

The room is dark, but you can make out the dark shapes of the furniture as your eyes adjust. Your eyes zero in on the large bed in the center of the room, the sheets still rumpled from sleep. Joel Miller doesn’t make his bed in the morning. Your tummy flutters at the idea of knowing this little tidbit about the older man.

With careful steps you make your way to the bedside table, flicking the lamp on. The room illuminates in the warm glow, and you take in the small details that make up the man you’ve had an all-consuming crush on for three years.

The hamper of clothes in the corner and the stray articles of clothing that didn’t make it to their destination littering the floor. His dresser is mostly clear, save for some mail and a bottle of cologne with the top left off. You pick the bottle up, the glass heavy in your hand as you bring it to your face.

It’s citrusy, like fresh oranges, but there’s an underlying spice to it that reminds you of fresh cracked pepper and your favorite bergamot candle. The scent settles over you like a comforting blanket, making a little shiver dance across your spine. You want the scent all around you.

On top of you.

Under you.

You set the bottle back down, moving on in your exploration. The cluttered nightstand calls to you next. 

There’s a stack of three books on the corner. One of them is a business advice book, likely for his endeavor to branch out and form his own contracting business with his brother, Tommy.

Another is a book on the Atkins diet, which makes you frown. Joel has an incredible body, the strength of it earned from hard work and the softness of it earned from a life well lived. Your mind drifts to thoughts of those strong arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you close to him like he can’t bear to let you go. Or wrapped beneath your back as his hips slam against yours, his brow shiny with sweat from his effort.

Fuck.

The third book is a new copy of The Da Vinci Code. You open the hardcover to read the excerpt, only for a piece of paper to flutter to the ground. You bend to pick it up, turning it over in your hand.

It’s a photo of you and Sarah from when you took her to the aquarium on a day when Joel got called into work for an emergency at a job site. You remember Sarah had been bummed that she would miss her dad on a Saturday, one of the only days she got to spend with him since he always works so late. But the aquarium had mermaids and Sarah was obsessed with The Little Mermaid at the time.

The photo in question is of the two of you posed in front of the giant shark tooth display, your arm around Sarah’s shoulders and hers around your waist. The photo is cracked, like it’s been folded a number of times. You trace the faint line that bisects the image between you and Sarah. 

Folding it along the same crease, you’re left with just a photo of you. 

Interesting.

Mr. Miller can’t come home soon enough.

________

Joel’s feeling good as he unlocks his front door. The few drinks he had with his brother have softened the worries that linger in his mind surrounding you. Everything is going to be fine and the two of you can move past this. 

The house is dark when he opens the door, a surprise to him given that you’re usually watching TV in the living room or studying in the kitchen when he comes home. It’s quiet, too. No gentle hum of muffled dialogue from the TV or the soft music that you’ll play.

Joel heads upstairs. He pokes his head into Sarah’s room, her night light revealing a mass of curly hair tucked beneath sheets that she’s pulled up to her chin. There’s no sign of you in her room, either. He closes the door as quietly as he can, the click of the latch ricocheting in the quiet hallway.

He checks the upstairs bathroom, only to find it empty as well. 

Which means there’s only one other place you could be.

His heart rate kicks up as he approaches his bedroom. There’s a faint strip of light at the bottom of the door, like a beacon calling his name. With a deep breath, he turns the knob and steps inside.

“What the fuck are you doin’?” He hisses, shutting the door sharply behind him. 

You look at him through half-lidded eyes, right hand slipped into a pair of lacy white panties, fingers moving in slow circles beneath the fabric. Your hips jerk against your hand, back arching on the bed, his bed, as you let out a quiet whimper. You’ve got one of his shirts on, the fabric rucked up to the middle of your waist, nipples straining with your arousal. 

“Waiting for you to get home, daddy,” you reply, voice high pitched and needy. 

Joel sucks in a sharp breath of air, eyes fluttering as he tries to control himself. “Don’t call me that,” he finally says through gritted teeth. 

You regard him for a moment, and Joel feels like his every thought and emotion is flayed open for your perusal. “Why? Because you don’t like it? Or because you like it too much?” You smirk at him. “I found the picture, daddy. You been lookin’ at me all alone at night?”

Joel’s hands curl into fists at his sides. He stares at you for so long he can feel his eyes burn with the strain of trying not to blink, in case you disappear. He feels like he’s caught at the top of a rollercoaster, the biggest hill possible with the greatest fall on either side.

On the one hand, he could fall into bed with you.

On the other hand, he can fall out of your life.

And the physical pain he feels at that option has him rubbing his chest to soothe the ache.

He takes a cautious step forward. Then another. He sits himself on the corner of the bed as you watch him with wide, expectant eyes.

“Why’d you stop, baby?” He asks, nodding towards your hand. “You sure were feelin’ bold, snoopin’ around my room and gettin’ into my bed, huh?”

“Just wanted to be close to you, daddy,” you tell him. Your fingers start moving again, tentatively, nothing like the rapid rhythm from before.

“You were missin’ me, huh?” He asks, eyes trailing your body. “Lift up that shirt for me.”

You do as you’re told, your gorgeous tits on display for him. He palms his cock, rock hard in the confines of his jeans. 

“I want you to pinch one of those pretty nipples for me,” Joel says. He groans as you follow his instruction, thumb and forefinger grasping the pert nub, twisting as you moan. “That’s it, want you to get them nice and sensitive for me, princess.”

“Now, spread your legs for me,” he continues. “How wet did you get your little pussy before daddy interrupted?” You spread your legs and Joel can barely stop himself from reaching out to run his thumb over the wet spot that’s formed on the gusset. “I asked you a question, darlin’.”

“I-I don’t know,” you murmur. 

“Check for me, will ya? Slip those little fingers down there and show daddy,” he whispers. He can barely recognize his own voice, the deep tenor of it a register he hasn’t heard from himself before. He licks his lips as you slip your hand beneath the elastic, running your fingers through your pussy. He can hear how wet you are, the slick glide of your fingers echoing in his head. “Show me, baby, come on, don’t keep daddy waitin’.”

You withdraw your hand and hold it out for his inspection. The digits glisten with your essence, the earthy scent hitting him like a freight train. Joel groans, head dropping as he fights to keep his composure.

“Take your panties off,” Joel demands. You lift your hips from the mattress, pushing the scrap of lace down your thighs. “Give ‘em to me.”

You drop the garment in his outstretched palm. Joel brings it to his face, taking a deep inhale. The scent of you, the combination of laundry detergent and vanilla and the musk of your wetness left behind in the threads, has him feeling lightheaded with desire. You whine, squirming impatiently.

“Daddy…,” you whimper. “Please touch me.”

“No, sweetheart, I shouldn’t be touchin’ you but this…this is fine, right? This ain’t touchin’,” Joel says, moving himself closer to you. “This doesn’t count.”

“Can I at least see you? Please?” You beg. And god, with your big doe eyes shining up at him like that he’s certain he’d kill a man if you only asked.

Joel stands from the bed, eyes never leaving you as he fights to remove his boots and jeans and shirt. He grabs your panties from where he’d dropped them on the bed in his haste to stand, wrapping them around his palm and taking his cock in hand. He lets out a desperate groan that you echo with your own.

“Put those dirty fuckin’ fingers in your cunt,” Joel growls. You run a finger through your folds before sinking one deep inside yourself. “That’s it, honey, that feels good, right? Giving your pretty little pussy some attention?”

All you can do is nod, mouth open in a silent moan as you work your hand against yourself. “Wish it was you, though, daddy,” you whine, hips flexing as you use your other hand to rub your clit.

“C-can’t, baby,” Joel stutters, hand slowing on his cock to bring him back from the edge. The sudden rush of endorphins makes him lightheaded.

“Please? I’ve been such a good girl,” you say. “Just a little bit, please!”

Joel’s chest heaves with desperate breaths, heart nearly beating from his chest. He can’t do this, he can’t touch you, not again. This is safer, this is a compromise that he’ll just have to live with.

“Just a little?” He finds himself asking. “And then you’ll stop beggin’?”

“Yes, yes, yes, please,” you sob. He plants one knee on the bed, then the other, crawling up the mattress toward your sweet, soft body. He longs to touch you, to run his rough hands across the smooth skin, but he has to draw the line somewhere, even if the line is as permanent as smoke in the wind.

He kneels between your obscenely spread legs, your pussy glistening in the low light and the heat of you so close to where he needs it most he feels his resolve crumbling to dust. He gathers the spit on his tongue and lets it drip onto your mound. Your back arches, the motion dragging the sensitive head of his cock just barely through your wetness.

“Christ, darlin’,” Joel grunts. “I’m not gonna survive you, am I?”

“What a way to go, huh?” You reply with a breathy laugh. Joel smiles down at you, a little grin lighting up your face and he has a flash of a vision of you downstairs in the kitchen, giving him the same smile when he comes home from work. 

Joel shakes his head, ridding himself of the thoughts before they can embed themselves any deeper. He takes himself in hand, sliding the thick head through your slick before notching himself as your entrance.

Your pussy welcomes him with delicious warmth, the slow glide of his cock through your tight cunt pure torture. Joel keeps his eyes fixed on your face, on the way your eyes roll back and your mouth drops open as you press your head against the mattress. Your body welcomes him, like he’s been the missing piece this whole time.

“Daddy,” you murmur as he bottoms out, the front of his thighs pressed to the back of yours. “You feel so fucking good.”

Joel’s cock twitches inside you, making you cry out loudly. He doesn’t even think before pressing a hand to your mouth, your eyes wide above his palm. 

“Can’t be sayin’ that, baby, I’m tryin’ to keep my promise,” Joel all but begs. His hips flex the smallest bit and he can feel the responding moan from your lips against his palm. “Fuck.”

Joel removes his hand and plants his palms on the mattress on either side of your head. You flex your hips, the movement sliding him in and out and fuck, he can’t take this anymore.

He hopes hell welcomes him with open arms.

Joel slides himself free of your body with a groan, hands gripping your hips with bruising force as he twists your body beneath his. Your ass is in the air, putting your desperate cunt on display, begging to be filled again. 

He shuffles forward, thrusting back inside of you in one sharp movement. He can hear your muffled shouts being absorbed by the mattress as he pounds inside of you.

“This what you wanted? Huh? Wanted daddy to take this sweet little pussy?” He asks through gritted teeth. He groans, a deep rumble in his chest as he withdraws, slow as he can manage, to feel the grip of your walls around his cock. “Ohhhh, f-fuck, baby. You f-feel so goddamn g-good.”

You turn your head, and Joel relishes in how wrecked you look. Your hair is a mess and there are lines across your face, imprints of his sheets from being pressed into the mattress. Your eyes are wide and glassy, pupils blown so black he thinks he’d see the stars in your eyes if he looked long enough.

“D-daddy,” you whine. “Wanna come!”

“N-no, don’t you fuckin’ dare come until I say,” he growls, punctuating the command with a sharp smack of his palm across your ass. “You understand, baby?”

“Y-yes,” you mumble. 

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good. Fuckin’. Girl,” Joel growls, slamming into you with as much force as he thinks your sweet little body can take. You bury your face against the mattress as you sob, your pussy clenching tightly around him. 

He pulls out again and your body sags to the mattress without his support. He maneuvers your bodies so that you’re facing each other, pulling a leg over his hip so that he can thrust his cock into you once more. 

This position is intimate, your breaths mingling as he flexes his hips against yours. You brush your lips against his and he topples over another cliff, destroying another poorly drawn line as he groans into your mouth, clutching your body desperately to his as your tongues tangle together.

“This pussy,” Joel says, “feels like heaven, sweetheart. Fuck.”

“Please let me come, daddy,” you sob, your damp forehead dropping to his shoulder. “Please, please, please.”

“Just a little longer, baby, I promise, I just wanna feel you,” he murmurs soothingly. “You just feel so good, honey, I can’t let it be over yet.”

You give a sad little whine as you nuzzle against his neck, your lips pressing against his frantic pulse. You bite and lick and kiss at the delicate skin and Joel can’t hold back anymore. He needs to feel you come undone around him.

“A-Alright, baby, I’ll let you come now, okay? Can you do that for daddy? Can you soak his cock so fuckin’ good, huh?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you pant. Each thrust Joel gives is punishing as he grinds himself inside of you. He slips a hand between your bodies to swipe at your clit before capturing your lips with his own to swallow the moan that spills from between them.

Your body goes tight around him, pussy fluttering and squeezing him within an inch of his life. He bites back his own release, desperate to feel you through yours. When your limbs start to go loose, he slips himself free, grinding his cock against your low belly until he comes, hot ropes of his spend marking your skin. 

He holds you as you both catch your breath, the cool air making your sweat slick skin break out in goosebumps that he chases with his fingertips. As the fog of his orgasm recedes from his brain, Joel feels the telltale tendrils of guilt creep in.

“Please, don’t freak out, Joel,” you say with a sigh. You lean back to look him in the eye. “I wanted this.”

“But—“ 

“Nope. Shush. Go get me a washcloth, please?” 

Joel stands on shaky limbs, heading to the bathroom to fulfill your request. When he returns, he smooths the wet cloth first through your sensitive, puffy lips before using it to collect the sticky mess he’d left behind on your skin. You watch him with another little smile, eyes soft and clear in your post-orgasm haze.

“Thanks,” you tell him before sitting up, throwing your legs over the side of the bed and grabbing a discarded t-shirt. You pull your shorts up your thighs, shimmying them into place on your hips. Joel feels his cock give a valiant little twitch at the sight. “Now, walk me out, will you?”

Joel feels like he’s got whiplash, following you out to your car parked in the driveway. He opens your door for you and watches you settle in. When you look up at him, he can’t help but lean forward and press a slow kiss to your lips.

“Drive safe,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets. You roll your eyes as you shut the door and start the car.

Joel knocks on the window, a thought having occurred to him. You roll it down and raise your eyebrow at him.

“You left your panties,” he says. 

“Keep ‘em,” you reply, lips tilted in a devilish smirk. “I’ll be back next week.”

Joel Miller taglist: @huffle-punk @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727  @whereasport @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfelll @thedeadsingwithdirtintheirmouths @mydailyhyperfixations @liati2000 @ghostofjoharvelle @cutesyscreenname @morgaussy @letsgroovetonighttt @endlessthxxghts @fake-bleach @brilliantopposite187 @mattmurdock1021 @str84pedro @justsomeoneovertherainbow @loquaciousferret @milly-louise @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @kirsteng42 @caatheeriinee07 @eternallyvenus @midnightswithdearkatytspb @evyiione @leeeesahhh @tloubarbie @afterglowsb-tch13 @loveliestofthoughts @theviewfromtheritz @brittmb115 @uncassettodiricordi @pedritosgfreal @adriennemichelle98 @mxtokko @gingersince97 @switchbladedreamz @casa-boiardi @tonysterco @rvjaa @ladymunson @sexpoisoned @trisaratops-mcgee @decemberdolly @spookyemorockbabe @reader-without-a-story @katmoonz @simping-soldat @mswarriorbabe80 @orphanbird95 @shatteredbaby @tusk89 @gingersince97 @mssbridgerton @internetobsessed1234-blog @sloanexx @manazo @bigboiseason123on123 @bean-is-readingng @darlingpedrodro @silkiers @pascals-cat

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[sailoryooons]

Okay hear me out, but maybe a little bit of enemies to lovers, little bit of smutty goodness between witch hunter!yoongi and witch!reader?? Idk why this popped in my head but I’m kind of desperate to see a little something now lol.

Also, I love you ❤️

❀ Pairing: Witch hunter!Yoongi x f. witch!reader

❀ Summary: For years, you and Yoongi have played cat and mouse. It’s his duty to rid the world of witches, but he always finds a new excuse to let you slip through his fingers. When you find yourself at his mercy, you wonder if the great witch hunter will finally end your game of chase, or if there’s something that will stay his hand. 

❀ Word Count: 4188 

❀ Genre: Urban fantasy, enemies to lovers, a hint of angst, smut

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

❀ Warnings: On screen character death (not permanent though), depictions of blood and intense action sequences, scary demon thing, depiction of weapons, hints at violence between two groups of people, mild world building, a bit of angst, explicit language, explicit sexual content featuring light nipple play, unprotected vaginal sex, emotional sex, a lot of spit, UNEDITED. 

❀ Published: August 3, 2023

❀ A/N: I don’t know why I thought I’d be able to control myself with some of these ideas because god dammit Sarah, I want to turn this into more than ~4k of a work. Like this idea inspired me so much, you have no idea how insane I wanted to go on this but I had to CONTROL MYSELF because I promised that this year I would keep it tame. I love you so much and I’m so sorry that this is like 90% plot and 10% smut but I kept inching toward 5k and I was like I HAVE GOT TO STOP MYSELF JESUS CHRIST and dkfgjdiogjfoigjg I am telling you right now, I want to come back and revisit this fic and makie it like a four chapter thing or something because GOD I LOVED THIS IDEA AND YOU KNEW JUST WHAT TO REQUEST. Also this is unedited!!!!

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

| Masterlist | Ask | Hali’s Happy Agust | Song Inspiration |

Most nights, Yoongi dreams of you. He knows better, and yet he can’t help himself. It’s like you’re living under his skin, a virus that has taken root in the marrow of his bones. He doesn’t know how he would dig you out if he tried.

If he tried. 

If anyone from the Conclave knew the dangerous game that Yoongi is playing, he would be ousted or killed. Killing would be the mercy, but he’s garnered enough hate within the elite members of the Conclave to know they’d rather him suffer cut off from his resources. His friends. His family. 

Still, Yoongi walks a dangerous line. He knows it’s wrong, letting a witch infect him like a sickness. He is sure that he’s under your spell. There’s no other explanation for the way he always lets you slip away. For the way he closes his eyes and imagines the flutter of your heart against his, the sound of your gasps, the warmth of your hands.

Stars explode behind Yoongi’s eyes as he presses the heels of his hands into them. He’s exhausted, limbs heavy and sore from a day of bloody work. The activity downtown has only worsened the last few months, making Yoongi hunt multiple times a day and return home banged up. 

The pain he can handle. Witches and their demons are nothing new to him. But he knows there’s something he’s missing, something lurking beneath the surface of the increased activity and the strong demonic presence in the city.

Yoongi knows he could ask you. He’s thought about it a few times over the last few weeks but he’s talked himself out of it each time. The curiosity has always lingered there, waiting for him to ask in those moments where you cross his path, coy and sharp as ever. In the minutes you linger, shooting him insults he thinks you don’t mean and playing little word games. 

He doesn’t ask, though. And you never offer, despite the fact that your sharp eyes and knowing smirk lead him to believe you know he wants to ask. 

Perhaps that’s why he doesn’t. Not giving you what you want is part of the fun. He likes the way it makes you bristle, magic crackling at your fingertips. He loves the way it makes you narrow your eyes at him, lobbing empty threats that make him want to purr. 

Whatever this effect you have on him is potent. He can’t shake you off, can’t outrun you. 

And worse, he doesn’t want to.

Rain begins to beat on the bedroom window outside. Though his limbs are heavy from slogging through the sewer system downtown after a witch and her ivax demon, he’s a little too keyed up to sleep. Yoongi senses something staticy in the air, an energy that he can’t name.

Opening up his phone, he flips through his text threads with members of the Conclave. It seems everyone is in it tonight, the demonic activity buzzing and the monsters worse than usual. He frowns when he sees Seokjin mention a prowler crawling through the warehouse district. Yoongi knows that’s where you live and an unexpected sense of unease slivers down his spine.

He locks his phone and tosses it on the bed. He doesn’t need to worry about you. You’re one of the most skilled witches in the city and you’ve killed scores of demons and others alike. He should remove your head for the number of hunters you’ve put in the ground, but you’ve killed triple that in witches. 

Which is why you’re alone. It’s not lost on Yoongi that you’re a witch without a coven and with unusual alliances living in a warehouse all alone with a prowler on the loose. If you know it’s there - you have to know it’s there, being you - he knows you’ll go after it. 

“Fuck,” he sighs at the ceiling. 

Grabbing his phone, Yoongi sends off a quick text. 

Yoongi: Anyone dispatching to take care of the prowler?

Councilman Haer: Negative. The Conclave will not be dispatching. The Warehouse District is not critical and it’ll go back down after it’s satiated. Prowlers aren’t controlled by witches, it might even take a few out for us.

Yoongi stomach flips as he squeezes his phone tight before getting up. He’s tired of the Conclave’s inaction. He knows he’ll get in trouble for going after something so dangerous without backup, but he can’t ask Seokjin and Hoseok to back him up on this one. Not unauthorized, and not for something so dangerous. 

Unsanctioned hunts is exactly how Yoongi has ended up at the bottom of the pool among Conclave members, but he doesn’t care. Politics can’t erase the fact that he’s the best fucking hunter in the city, and no councilman who won’t get their hands dirty can give him grief for doing what needs to be done.

This isn’t about the Conclave, though. Yoongi knows it. Seokjin would know it, if Yoongi told him what he was doing. But the thought of a prowler tearing through the low-income streets in the Warehouse District doesn’t resonate with him. Neither does knowing that you are one of the witches in the line of fire. 

Yoongi dresses and arms himself with military proficiency. A black, long-sleeved shirt with a form-fitted leather vest over it to prevent most stabs and cuts, knives sheathed along the ribbing of the vest, breathable pants with a tactical belt and pockets full of hunting necessities, and his necklace with the Conclave helix. 

At the last second, he grabs a jacket and pulls the hood up to keep the beating rain from soaking him through. While he has some talent with magic to help him heal faster and make his blows stronger and faster, he’s not skilled in the way of weather or anything advanced enough to keep him dry and comfortable. 

Nervousness settles into him as he takes the subway to the Warehouse District. It’s not far, but the train is empty and filled with dirty puddles left behind from passengers. Lights flicker above as the subway rockets unevening on the tracks, making him dizzy. 

When he steps off the train and into the wet underground of the station entrance, he knows something is amiss. His fingers twitch as he jogs up the steps, boots splashing loudly as the rain comes down. Wind whips at him here and when he hears a crack of thunder too loud and rumbling to be human, his instincts kick in.

Yoongi takes off running. He knows where your warehouse-turned-loft is. He’d originally scouted it out to eliminate you. Now, it’s something he’s always kept an eye on, steering other hunters away from your home. It’s silly, he knows. You’d call him weak if you knew, probably. And yet he does it, diverting danger coming your way when he can.

Now, danger is already there. 

The storm rages harder as he heads your direction. Wind pushes at him, making Yoongi lock his muscles as he fights the freezing cold rain and the debris that blows down the street with the force of the storm. He hopes that it keeps people indoors and away from the prowler. 

But Yoongi sees the purple lighting lance out of the sky, an explosion of radiant beauty for a moment before it strikes nearby, blowing transforms into white sparks and he realizes what is so uncanny about this storm. 

It’s you. You’re the storm. 

A roar of rage shakes the air as he comes around the corner to your street. The warehouse you live in is at the end of the road right up against the bay. The wind is mixed with salt spray, stinging his eyes as he runs towards the shadowy outline of your building, nearly impossible to see in the rain and night.

Yoongi manages to roll one of the heavy doors open to your loft, muscles screaming with effort. Stepping inside, chaos greets him. The ceiling is blown out above your home, rain pouring in from the sky. It tastes like lightning and blood. No doubt your storm is what ripped the ceiling apart, but when he sees the prowler, he doesn’t blame you. 

A massive creature stands ten feet tall, rippling with leathered hide and spikes on its back. Long, gangly limbs drag on the floor with black, sharpened talons on the end of each of its three fingers. The prowler walks awkwardly and Yoongi notes the scorch mark in its left shoulder, making it lean as it drags itself toward its intended target. 

Which is you, laying on the ground bloody and rain soaked. Yoongi doesn’t even think. He has no idea if you’re conscious or not, but he’s moving across the room, putting power into his step as he pulls out two of his daggers and jumps high up into the air. 

Yoongi’s intent is to land on the back of the prowler and sink each blade in as he falls. He doesn’t anticipate the demon to turn away from bloodied prey, but it does, swinging its arm wildly to bat him away. He’s lucky that the forearm catches him in the stomach and sends him flying and not the flaws.

Closing his eyes and bracing for impact, Yoongi is surprised when he doesn’t slam into a wall. He opens his eyes to see himself floating toward the floor, suspended briefly before the phantom energy drops him gently. He lands with shock, looking up to where you’re sitting up, one hand extended toward him.

At least you weren’t out cold or dead. Yoongi is really happy that you’re not dead, but it’s cut short as the prowler charges him. 

This time, Yoongi’s ready. He runs at the beast, waiting until he’s right outside of the window of its swiping claws before he dives to his knees, sliding under the creature and between its legs. He twists his hands, cutting the inside of the creature’s thighs as he goes.

It shrieks, shaking the building and scattering Yoongi’s thoughts. He feels fizzy and confused for a moment, the mind breaking scream of the prowler enough to make him vulnerable. He feels a hand on his face and he looks up, momentarily stricken with the thought that he sees an angel. 

“Thank you,” you breathe, and he recognizes your voice. Usually it cracks like a whip, but this is soft. Strange. It terrifies him. “I’m going to do something that is probably going to kill me. Just know that I liked our game, Hunter.”

“What are you doing, Witch?”

Your smile is like the sun. He doesn’t think he’s seen anything more beautiful. Your face is covered in blood and rain, turning your neck scarlet as it runs. There’s a gash above your brow and he sees a blackened wound in your stomach. 

It is amazing, how a creature like you, bred to be an evil, wicked thing can look radiant. Holy. Wonderful. Your hand is cradling his face and it feels warm, despite the rain and blood on your hands. Your thumb is soft as it sweeps across his cheek, a touch more reverent than he’s ever known. 

“Witch,” Yoongi starts, unsure what you’re doing. 

“I’ll miss that. Take this.” 

Before Yoongi can react, your hand falls from his face. You move past him with absolute confidence, lifting your chin. You have a limp as you do, and Yoongi reaches after you but you’re already out of his grip.

Something stirs in the air. He’s only felt power rippling like that once before when he was a child, and the entire Conclave worked together to slaughter an Eldritch Witch that had attacked them and taken out more than half of their hunters.

Now, Yoongi feels that dark presence again, energy buzzing against his ears as he turns to look at you over his shoulder. The prowler senses the power disturbance too, backing away from you as dark particles begin to gather around your hands.

Above you, the rain hovers, disrupted by the frequency of your magic. The buzz in Yoongi’s ears gets louder as he climbs to his feet, clapping his hands firmly over his ears, wincing as it gets higher and louder. He thinks it might burst his ear drums or crack his skull open. 

Disks of dark particles circle you as you approach the demon, which is now roaring once more, trying to disrupt your thoughts. It doesn’t work, the air vibrating with dark matter. You’re at the center of the swirling darkness, the rings rotating around you like an access.

The sound stops suddenly, and for a moment, Yoongi thinks he’s deaf. Black matter pulses from you, exploding outward. Yoongi hits the floor, realizing if he gets hit with your magic, he’ll die. Never before has he witnessed the Eldritch Blast of a witch, but he knows that it's only used as a final stand.

I’m going to do something that is probably going to kill me. 

The finality of your words shreds him open as the shockwave of your magic barrels at him. He thinks he’s going to die as it expands toward him, but instead, it arches over him, battling down against a magical barrier. 

Take this. Yoongi realizes you’ve warded him from your destruction, keeping him safe as your blast levels the world around you. He feels the magic beating down on your ward like raging fits, vibrating and shrieking under the pressure of the magic. 

It even keeps him from being injured by the collapsing debris. 

Yoongi looks at you as the world falls to pieces. You go down to one knee, then the other, swaying as the darkness cascades around you in a final flutter of power. Then you fall over, heavy and unmoving as the rest of the building comes down. 

All he can do is scream.

-

Most nights, you dream of Yoongi. You don’t know when it started - perhaps that first night after you met him? You can’t be sure. All you know is that at some point, the hunter poisoned you from the inside out, a disease taking root and rotting you all the way through to your core. 

You always knew that dreaming of him would get you killed one day. But Yoongi was different. Wiser than the rest of his wretched Conclave. Smart enough to question his way of life and his faction’s merciless killings. You think he’ll start asking the right questions soon, that maybe he’ll start seeing the signs that who he has sworn loyalty to isn’t who they say they are.

But Yoongi never asks questions. 

It’s easy to tell he wants to. There’s always that little pause at the end of your meetings. You used to think it was perhaps he was trying to decide whether or not to kill you. Perhaps it was that at first, but now it’s something a little different. A little more. Like he is on the edge of finally asking you what exactly is going on in the city that he protects from monsters.

Yoongi is simple, though. He likes his little life tucked away in the Art District and he likes the wash, rinse, repeat of killing demons and corrupted witches nightly. You think he likes your little run-ins.

Now, you’ve finally paid the price of letting him live these last two years. Had someone told you before you’d met Yoongi that you’d sacrifice yourself for him and the rest of a small neighborhood, you’d have laughed in their face. You weren’t a hero, though some might think slaying your own kind and their creatures was worth praise. 

Penance and praise are not the same, though. 

Dying seems like a good way of paying off your list of wrongs. Especially to save Yoongi. If only to save Yoongi, if you were being honest. 

Witches have a lot of lore about death and where one goes in the afterlife. You’re not sure where you are, if you exist, or if you’re even really a thought. It feels like nothingness and everything all at once, a void of floating consciousness. There’s no pain, but you remember the warehouse. Remember the prowler ripping down the door and coming for you specifically. 

And him. You remember Yoongi coming in, looking like a fucking angel of old as he leapt through the skies. Together you might have taken on the beast. But prowlers are notoriously difficult to destroy, and you were in no shape to protect Yoongi, much less fight by his side as a reliable partner. 

That left you with one option, and though you knew it would end you, you’d done it anyway.

Yoongi’s face swims in your mind. Soft and round, eyes like the bottom of the ocean, a single pink scar carved through his right eye. Mouth soft and petal pink, hair silky and dark, reaching to his shoulders. He’s small for a hunter but he’s strong and broad, his mind his best weapon. 

Witch, Yoongi had said. The last words you’d hear from him, spoken with a softness that you’ve never heard from him before. Rain-soaked and wide eyed Yoongi, looking at you like you held the flame of life, like you were something more than a creature on the other side of the trench. 

The best thing you could do for him was die.

So you summoned your magic from deep within you, that ancient, sleeping thing. You try not to think about what Yoongi’s last memory of you will be, an eldritch horror that will remind him of the creature that slaughtered his family as a child. 

Yoongi will never get to ask his questions. You’ll never get to tell him why you haunt the streets killing your own kind. Yoongi will never know the softness of your kiss. You’ll never know the gentle press of his hands. 

Something brushes across your forehead. You feel now and you frown. Or can you frown, in whatever plane of death this is? You’re not sure, but you feel… the weight of your own body. The beating of your own heart. The rush of air through your lungs as you breathe.

Awareness prickles at the back of your neck like a needle. Slowly, you begin to feel solid. Your fingers twist in soft sheets, and when you turn your head, you feel the plushness of a pillow. Smell petrichor and cedar. 

It smells like… Yoongi. 

“Hmmm?” you feel the vibration in your throat at your unspoken question, nothing but a rumble of noise and confusion. Something cradles your face. “Hunnn..?”

A deep, throaty laugh. “Mmm, I take care of you for a week straight and we’ve moved on to endearments?” 

Your eyes flutter open, lids heavy. The world swims into view, a little blurry as your eyes try to focus in the dimly lit room, taking in the bed you’re in and the face hovering above yours. 

“Yoongi,” you breathe, your heart expanding with unfettered joy. 

“That’s the first time you’ve ever said my name.”

“What?”

“Say it more often.” He leans forward and you watch as his dark eyes drink you in. “And never do that to me again.”

Before you can ask him what that is, Yoongi’s mouth is pressing against yours. You melt immediately, going boneless in a bed you’re unfamiliar with, lost in the citrusy taste of his mouth and the gentle press of his lips. His kiss is soft soft soft, blurring reality as he pulls at your bottom lip teasingly before pulling away.

Eyes fluttering open, you stare at him in wonder. He hovers above your face, haloed by inky-black hair. “Yoongi.”

He smiles. “It sounds much better than hunter. Hun can stay, though.”

“You’re not calling the shots.”

“You’re in no condition to fight me.”

“I killed a prowler, I think you’re no problem.”

His eyes glow. “I think perhaps you’re right. But for now, you’re at my mercy.”

“Kiss me again.” You lift your hands and bring them toward his face, brushing a finger over the bottom of his scar. “And don’t stop this time. I’ll ask my questions later.”

“Of course, witch.” 

Yoongi’s kiss is hungrier now. Desperate. Full of all the questions he never asked and you meet him with equal fire. You don’t care that you’ve beat the odds and lived. You don’t care about anything else but the weight of Yoongi straddling your waist and the feel of his velvet soft skin beneath your hands. 

Every inch of him is warm, filled with the heat of the hunter’s fire that burns through every member of the Conclave. This hunter burns brighter than the rest, though. Warmth blooms where your fingers press over his stomach and chest, ridding him of his shirt. Fire burns where you grab his arms, arching into him as his teeth skim your throat. 

You’ve never felt this in sync with someone, bodies twining together like you were made for one another. Yoongi’s hand is scorching as his touch ghosts down your body, his touch light and teasing as he lowers his mouth to your hardened nipple, catching it and giving a gentle suck.

Honey-dipped moans slip from your mouth. Yoongi’s mouth is wet-hot against your skin, tongue laving hungrily as his hand seeks the heat between your legs. Your thighs open for him easily, giving Yoongi access to the dripping mess of your folds. He curses when his fingers slide between your slit, gathering slick to circle his digits around your clit.

“Fuck,” you hiss, hips twitching. “Don’t bother. I can take you now. Want you now.”

“I told you that you were at my mercy.” You summon your magic, rattling his shelves. Yoongi leans over to your neglected nipple and plucks it with his teeth, making you squeal and shiver, pleasure rattling you. “Fine,” he agrees. “Greedy witch. Should have known.”

“Not greedy,” you shoot back as Yoongi sits up and sheds his pants. Your hands follow him, tracing the faint scars on his stomach, pressing against the muscle of his tapered hips. “I’ve waited for months for you to do something. To say something.”

“I’m not good at that.” 

You hum. “It takes me dying for you to take initiative?” 

“A lesson hard-learned and never to be repeated.”

Yoongi’s cock is hard, bobbing heavily as he shuffles you under him and presses your thighs open for him. The brown tip is sticky with precum, his shaft long and thick enough to make your cunt ache for him more.

“Nice cock,” you tease as he pumps himself, hand gliding and spreading his precum down his shaft.

He grunts. “Can’t wait to feel this fucking pussy,” he mutters, leaning forward and pressing the tip to your entrance. You make a breathy sound, eyes fluttering shut at the pleasure-pained stretch. “Think you can take it, witch?”

“Yes.”

Yoongi sinks in and you second-guess your statement for a second, but the stretch of his cock pressing you open feels good. Deliriously so, your back arching as he bottoms out. You feel him in your gut, deeper than anything ever before and you whine as he draws his hips back before snapping them forward, punching the breath from your lungs.

He sets a deep, hard pace. You grip his biceps, feeling the muscle flex in his arms. Every part of you is on fire, lit up from the closeness of your bodies as Yoongi leans down and melds your mouths together, continuing to fuck you so deep you know you’ll never forget what it feels like.

Every brush of his cock against your g-spot drives you mad. Every whisper of your name - your name, not witch - makes you shudder. His tongue is hungrily as it brushes against yours, his moans deep and throaty as your pussy grips him tight. 

“Fuck,” he pants, sliding a hand down your body to grab your thigh and hoist your leg higher. It changes the angle, making his stroke somehow deeper. Your eyes roll back and your head digs into the mattress as you fist at the sheets. “You can fucking take it.”

“Keep going.”

“As if i could fucking stop.” 

You never want him to stop. Fucking you, kisses you, teasing you, shadowing you as you take on the world. You want every part of your life colored with Yoongi. You want him to be a part of your mornings, your fights, your weaknesses, your strengths. You want to rile him up, needle him with little insults that get him going. Tease him to make him laugh and share that secret smile. 

Every moment has led to this. You don’t know how you never saw this outcome, here with him, crying out his name as your orgasm crests into an unstoppable force. When you come around him, it’s with his name in your mouth and so much need for him in your heart that you think you might explode with energy for a second time. 

After, when you’re wrapped in Yoongi and you feel his hunter’s skin blaze against you, sweat-slick skin pressed close, you think that finally, he’ll ask those questions. You’ll give him answers. 

“Don’t do that ever again, witch,” Yoongi warns. “I will follow you into death.”