#THE MAN YOU ARE 🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️

[starmaidengarden]

hello! may i request malleus x gn reader where both of them are friends then reader start to develop feelings toward malleus but they know from the start that their feelings are unrequited and feel like they're unworthy so to save from heartbreak, reader starts to get distant with him and just avoid him

pls end it with a fluffy happy ending tho, that's it and thank you! 🙇🏻‍♀️

— malleus : x gn!reader. augst to fluff. unrequited love, self-worth and the fear of vulnerability. dividers: uzmacchiato.

You weren’t quite sure when it all began. Perhaps it was the way Malleus would suddenly appear beside you during your evening walks, always unannounced yet warmly welcomed. Maybe it was his fascination with even the simplest things you said as if your words held a kind of magic meant only for him to uncover. You had always known who he was—what he was. A prince. A fae. Powerful. Eternal. And you? Just someone lucky enough to call him a friend. But hearts are not always cautious. Yours had betrayed you quietly for some time now.

The realization hit hard, You loved him. And that love was fraught with danger. Not because he was unkind—far from it. Malleus was gentle in ways that the world rarely recognized. But deep down, you knew he could never see you in the same light. How could someone like him, heir to an ancient kingdom, ever fall for someone so… ordinary? You had no tragic backstory, no legendary magic, no noble lineage. Just a heart foolish enough to dream beyond its means. So, you resolved that distance would be kinder than heartbreak.

It all started small. You began ignoring his late-night invitations to stargaze. You skipped your usual walks with him. When he visited Ramshackle, you weren’t there—or pretended not to be. You made polite excuses when he invited you to lunch, claiming you were caught up with homework, errands, or just plain tired. You smiled when you had to see him in class, but your eyes betrayed your true feelings. And deep down, you hated every moment of it. You hoped he would eventually forget you, grow bored or simply move on. You never expected him to show up one evening, cloaked in mist and moonlight, standing at the crumbling gates of Ramshackle Dorm.

“Child of man,” he said softly, a hint of concern in his voice. “Have I wronged you?” Your breath caught; you hadn’t even sensed him approaching. “No, of course not,” you replied, your voice trembling. “Why would you think that?” “Because you vanish when I arrive. Your warmth dissipates when I speak. You used to look at me like I was… wanted. Now, you seem to look through me.” He took a step closer. "So I ask again, Have I done something to hurt you?" Unable to meet those piercing green eyes that saw far too much, you looked down. “No,” you whispered. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then what is it?” he pressed. “…I just needed space,” you managed.

“Why?” His question was gentle, yet it struck deep. You could lie again; you should lie. But your heart, traitorous and full, spilled the truth. “Because I love you,” you breathed, barely audible. “And I know you’ll never feel the same. So I thought… if I distanced myself first, it wouldn’t hurt as much when you forgot me.” A heavy silence hung in the air. You turned to leave, feeling humiliated and aching, but his voice stopped you. "Why would you believe I couldn’t return such feelings?"

You froze. “Because I’m me,” you answered bitterly. “I’m not strong or magical or anything close to what you deserve. I’m just… ordinary.”

In an instant, Malleus stood in front of you, the space between you vanishing under his presence. His hand reached out, hesitated, and then gently cupped your cheek. “You are not ordinary to me.” Your breath hitched. “I have lived for years, and yet it’s you—your laughter, your stubbornness, your kindness—that has brightened my days. You never flinched in my presence; you never treated me as a prince or a monster.” He leaned in, his forehead brushing against yours. “I didn’t know how to name this feeling before. I thought it odd—a human holding such power over my thoughts. But now, I understand. I didn’t forget you because I couldn’t. I searched for you in every shadow when you were absent. I missed you with a weight I had no name for.”

Tears filled your eyes as he smiled—a soft, radiant smile. Your walls crumbled under his gaze. He wrapped his arms around you, carefully as if you were something precious. You clung to him, terrified he might vanish.

“You are so much more than you believe,” he said. “And I will spend as long as you allow me to show you just how much you mean to me.” That night, beneath the stars he had once shown you, you stood beside him—not as someone running from heartbreak, but as someone who had finally been seen and loved for who they truly were.

[jinikaris]

But I better get a grip, if I slip, if I trip If I drop in the hole in the road

FELIX // 'ReawakeR' MV

[iridescent-solstice]

Disturbing Lucifer when he's working late nights will lead to getting a lot more than you bargained for. He's patient for a while with you. Far too lenient for his own good. Letting you mess with his coat, fiddle your arms about, and sinfully whisper in his ear. My god you make it difficult for him to continue focusing on this important document. Not good since that's due in a few hours. Diavolo won't be happy if it's late by even a few minutes. But still, he lets you continue. He tolerates you.

However, after more than a few cups of Demonus flowing through him. He struggles to hold himself back from caging you in-between himself and the desk he's currently working at. Strong fingers dig into your hips, commanding you to stay still while his other hand continues to write. Quick and with ease, like he's determined to get it over with . . . So, he can do what he really wants. Warm lips ghosting a mere few centimetres above your neck. You could feel his breath fan your neck lightly. His head nuzzled up against your cheek.

It's a while before he speaks again, "just a little longer my love. I'll be done soon~" With your head feeling fuzzy due to being surrounded by his comforting scent, and the promise of more all you can do is . . .

Wait

[ ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀꜱ ʙʏ: @iwonbinl]

[manawari]

Choi Jong-in only brings one meal to the table and that is his *undisputed aura* 🔥💥

[wannaeatramyeon]

me: turning off my ask box to actually respond to the 8 weeks of fic request backlog

also me: NO I WANT TO WRITE THE MOST OVERINDULGENT OOC MULTICHAPTER STRANGERS TO LOVERS THAT NO ONE, NOT ONE SINGLE PERSON, ASKED FOR

[drewstarkeybroughtmehere]

You and Drew’s not so secret relationship 🫣

Hiii I tried my best so please be kind. I hope whoever comes across this enjoys it!!🫶🏼🫶🏼

yourusername

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yourusername

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yourusername “i was always taking pictures.”📸

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drewstarkey “Cause I didn’t wanna miss a thing”

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drewstarkey we can leave this dirty world behind..

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[twilghtkoo]

oh how you love longhair!jungkook . . .

pairings. jungkook x reader (f)

genres/aus. fluff, smut, established relationship

warnings. long hair jungkook, oral (f receiving), minor cum play, hair pulling, fingering, squirting, finger sucking

notes. wrote something about long hair haechan awhile ago, it’s only fair i write about long hair kook too 🙇🏻‍♀️ likes and reblogs appreciated !! stay safe and healthy <33

masterlist

—

"ahh, this is annoying." you hear jungkook from the kitchen, not really talking to you but voicing his thoughts aloud. you turn your head away from the laptop in your lap towards the man fighting the hair in his face as he towers over the kitchen sink.

you laugh to yourself, focus back on your laptop screen.

"yah, are you laughing? help meee," he pointedly stares at you while you fake innocence.

you sigh, placing your laptop on the coffee table in front of you before marching to the kitchen. jungkook is attempting to move the hair out of his face with his shoulder as he scrubs a plate clean. his bare wrists missing his usual black hair tie that would suit his wrist, so you just use on yours that was meant for you.

"girlfriend here fulfilling girlfriend duties sir!" you jokingly say in a deep voice and saluting as the cherry on top. the corner of his lips lift slightly as he scoffs.

you stand behind him as he pauses what he's doing to lean his head back so you can reach. you strategically use your fingers to comb through his hair as you carefully gather a fistful and quickly tie it up. made sure to not tie it too tight because he gets headaches if they're too tight. you step back and admire your work.

"better?" you ask.

"much, thank you." he exhales. with that you were going to turn around but he stops you.

"wait, kiss!" he urged.

—

"is that my headband?" you tilt your head at the sight in front of you.

jungkook washing his face with—pretty sure it's yours— a cute tiger headband pushing back his hair. soap suds coating his entire face.

he squints his eyes at you. "perhaps?" he says questioningly.

"what do you mean perhaps, that is mine." you snickered, walking past him to do what you originally came in the bathroom for.

"sorry baby, i don't know where mine went."

you flush the toilet and stand beside him to use the other sink to wash your hands. "it's okay, i'll buy you another one."

next day . . .

"really? a cooky headband?" he doesn't even look surprised, yet slowly a smile is creeping it's way onto his face. you just looked so excited when you came back from the store.

"it's fitting! it's literally you." you shoot your arms out, gesturing to him. "plus, now we can do face masks together."

—

"oh, fuck," you cried out, fingers harshly pulling his head into your center as he greedily licks into your cunt.

your stomach moving up and down from the uncontrollable breaths you're taking in and letting out. the pads of your fingers dig into his scalp and the feeling only urges him on more as he grinds into the bed. he's sure he looks pathetic humping the mattress, but your sounds and touch made him desperate and he did not give a fuck.

"taste so fucking good..."

"smell so fucking good..." he curses out in between munching on your juicy pussy.

you let out a strangled cry as his tongue leaves your hole and moves onto your clit, sucking at it. gripping frantically for anything and finding a pillow, you buck your hips, wanting more. needing more. the noises he makes as he eats you out were ungodly. whining, groaning, short breaths as he presses into your folds.

he did not want to stop, he was pussy drunk. his hands slowly drag its way up from your ankle to your leg then where you were needily craving. two of his fingers brush against your hole.

"hmph, kookie," god that nickname. the way it sounds coming out of your lips. the way it sounds in this extremely lewd situation. the way it's just you.

he huffs out. "shit," his fingers pumping into you fast and relentless.

his free hand moves to hold your hips down, licking and sucking on the sensitive bud harder. he felt you tighten around his fingers, your walls fluttering.

"i can't, i can't- oh fuuuck!"

"mmh," he groans out as you both cum. his warm cum coating the inside of his briefs leaving a sticky, uncomfortable mess. your juices are creating a pool from the dip in the bed created from the weight of your ass.

he pulls out his fingers, leisurely, as he sits up on the back of his shins, his thigh muscles become prominent and you clench around nothing from the sight. but you seriously cannot take a fourth orgasm. his face glistening from the meal he just had and hairs sticking out from his once neat man bun.

your body begins to calm down, with shaky legs you slide your feet up and open your legs to make room for him. holding out your hand for him to take he lets you pull him down, at your mercy, his arms on either side of your head. you reach up to pull his hair free from the ponytail, his thick waves cascading down from his neck.

taking a moment to admire the bare beauty in front of you. his cheeks painted a faint red from the previous rounds in here, his baby hairs stringy and sticking to his forehead and sideburns from sweat. the beauty marks that makeup and cameras cannot capture and only people close up can see. your hand comes up to gently cup his face and you almost cry when you can see him physically melt into your hand, his eyes fluttering shut while your thumb makes soft strokes.

you blindly reach for his hand that was penetrating you minutes before and take them in your mouth. your tongue lapping around his digits, humming at the taste of yourself.

he’s getting lost at the sight of you.

finally opening your eyes, he slowly pulls his fingers out from your mouth. the tips of his fingers dragging down slowly from your bottom lip, watching it bounce back. his eyes zone in on the wet streak he’s leaving down to your collarbone.

“we made a mess.” he mumbles, smirking.

“oops,” you shrug, smiling.

[hotchnerwrites]

Hi hi hi my babyy🤍🤍

First I want to apologize for appearing until now, life has become severely difficult :( How have you been? How is everything going?🫂

So now I'm someone's controversial young girlfriend🙇🏻‍♀️(it's not as many years difference as it sounds) and that gave me an idea with my favorite man🫠

What if Hotch and the reader have this mutual desire but Hotch doesn't approach the reader because her's younger and the reader doesn't approach him because her's afraid of rejection But one night maybe they share a kiss or a light touch that makes Hotch close himself off more and discourages the reader:( and finally when they go on a case the one from the head office who is Hotch's age flirts with the reader and she reciprocates first because she is single and second because she really loves that her couples are older 😮‍💨 and Aaron gets really jealous because he 'thought he was the only one' and that tension finally falls apart when he confronts her and she simply tells him that the head of the department is some kind of distraction about her crush on Hotch 🫠

The truth is that in the end I didn't know how to develop the idea, I'm sure you can do it better, I hope it was understood. 😭🙏🏻

As always take it only if you feel comfortable (and understand it) I send you all my love, I'm excited to be here again I'm not going to lie about it!!🥹💗💗

xoxoxo

-👩🏻‍🦰

Unspoken

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: SFW, jealous!hotch, mutual pining, angst, sort of happy ending, making out, no use of (y/n),

A/N: HIIII LOVELY, missed seeing you in my requests. things have been crazy on my end ngl 😭 moved cities, broke my teeth, med exams etc. god is testing me rn smhhhh. and congratulations on your new relationship!!!! so happy for you <3 (totally not jealous 😔/s) anyways, kind of went crazy on this request, LOOOOVED the idea so much. i wanted this man suffering in the fic lmaooo. anyways, here you go!!! hope you like it, and it's what you wanted!!! sending u all my love 💚

PS. Let me know if the formatting is off. It's wonky on my laptop but not my phone for whatever reasons.

My requests are open. Send me stuff! :)

There had always been something there.

Unacknowledged, simmering beneath longing glances and fleeting touches. An almost magnetic pull between you and Aaron— felt by both, acted on by neither. It existed in the quiet spaces between conversations, the way he positioned himself beside you during briefings, in the way his hand would almost touch the small of your back before withdrawing at the last second.

But that something was fated to remain unspoken. Unmentioned.

And that had been Aaron’s choice, not yours.

You never pushed him. Not when you caught his gaze lingering, not when he brought you coffee and no one else, not when he gave you his coat on cold nights without a word, not even when— after a particularly hard case— you had found yourself in the dimly lit hallway of a motel, wrapped up in his arms, listening to his uneven heartbeat like he was battling something within himself. 

For a second, you had let yourself hope. This had to be it. His breaking point.

But then he had pulled away. 

And the next day? He shut you out completely.  He didn’t meet your eyes in the briefing. He stopped those wordless gestures you had learned to find comfort in. His usual attentiveness toward you, the way he always ensured you were comfortable… was gone. He was probably more attentive towards Reid.

So, it became obvious. You adapted like you always did. You drew the line in the sand and stuck to your side. The conversations became strictly professional, words clipped but polite. You stopped bringing him a cup of coffee if he lingered in the bullpen late at night. On long flights home, he stopped offering you the seat next to him.

Even the team noticed.

Rossi had given Hotch a Look more than once, his stare heavy with disappointment. JJ asked if you were okay, and even Morgan had thrown out a casual, “What’s going on with you two?”

You vehemently denied everything. Everything was fine. Everything was normal.

What else could you have said? That you wanted Aaron? That you had spent months convincing yourself he had wanted you, too? That, in the end, he had rejected it— no, he had denied you— not even with words, but with distance?

You knew you deserved better. You deserved someone who would be proud to love you. Someone who wasn’t scared of the possibility of a relationship.

So, you moved on.

———

Then came Baltimore. 

Michael Keating was confident, charismatic, and older. He was the Chief of the Baltimore Division, respected and soft-spoken. He carried himself with ease, joked about the growing silver streak in his hair, and greeted everyone by name. He made people laugh and asked about their day.

And he noticed you. 

It started small. A compliment on your profiling. Deferring to you when asked about the unsub. 

You hadn’t meant to encourage it. But then again— why refuse yourself? You had spent too long pining for something that wasn’t meant to happen. You were single, and you wanted a change. And Michael was perfect.

Keating was different. He was direct in a way Hotch never was. He didn’t hesitate to place a hand on your lower back as he showed you around the precinct. He leaned in when he spoke to you, close enough that you could smell his cologne. He smelled like the ocean— sea salt and sandalwood.

But there was something about Michael that reminded you of Aaron. The little things. The way his voice softened when he said your name. The way he listened— giving you his rapt attention, something Hotch always did, but only ever with you.

Nevertheless, Keating wasn’t Hotch. And you weren’t going to let yourself draw baseless comparisons. So you let him flirt with you. It felt good to be seen. When he brought you your morning coffee, you accepted gratefully, smiling up at him. When he leaned in and said something low and teasing, you laughed.

That was when you felt it.

A prickle at the back of your neck. Someone watching.

You didn’t deign to turn, but you knew. 

Aaron.

For a second you felt suffocated. But the feeling was gone as swiftly as it had come. When you finally joined your team, Hotch was talking with García, and he didn’t even spare you a glance.

For the rest of the day, you pretended that it hadn’t affected you as much as it did. You maintained your professional façade, breaking only once when Michael slid you a sticky note with a silly doodle on it. Everything went well. Or so you thought.

Hotch brushed past you with nothing more than a curt “Excuse me” as he entered the meeting room. His voice held a subtle undercurrent of knowing, but you brushed it off. It just wasn’t your problem any longer.

But when Keating pulled out your chair for you, you felt it again— the prickling.

Hotch walked out of the room.

Emily noticed. 

“Whatever it is,” she muttered as you watched Hotch’s back disappear down the hallway, “you two need to sort it out before it affects the case.”

You know she’s right. But you can’t bring yourself to answer. What was there to say?

Aaron had no right to feel this way. He had his chance. If he wanted you, he should have said so. But he didn’t, instead, he turned tail and ran.

And you weren’t going to sit around waiting for him to come to.

————

The bar had emptied, the rest of the team long since in their rooms. You had stayed a bit longer, letting the bite of your drink settle into your bones. You needed it after the week you’d had. Michael had apologised profusely when you’d invited him; he had to meet with the prosecutor. After the initial sting of disappointment, you were glad that he wasn’t here. You needed some space from it all. You let your mind disconnect from the world, letting the faint hum of the music take over.

Which is why you weren’t prepared when Aaron cornered you. 

“Keating?” His tone was level as if asking you about the weather. But the way his hands were clenched tight told you a different story. “That’s who you want?”

Your stomach twisted, almost painfully.

Not this. Not this conversation, not after months of silent torture, months of being ignored, months of being treated like nothing.

“What does it matter to you?” You retorted, rolling your eyes. Fatigue seeped into your voice that had nothing to do with the case. “You don’t get to ask me that, Aaron.”

Something flickered in his eyes when you said his name. Maybe it reminded him of how you used to say it with warmth.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, dragging a hand down his face. “Didn’t think he was your type.”

A short, humourless laugh escaped you. “My type?” You shook your head vigorously. “I didn’t realise I needed your opinion on that. You’ve barely acknowledged my existence this month.”

Hotch’s shoulders tensed. “That’s not—”

“Not what? Not fair?” Your eyes burned, “You pushed me away. You didn’t even ask how I felt. You chose for both of us and now you’re— what? Upset I’ve moved on?”

“That’s not what this is.”

“Enlighten me, then,” you snap, anger hiding the fact that you were begging for an answer, one you knew he’d never give.

Nothing. As expected. The silence between you stretched on. You didn’t know what you had been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this. All of a sudden, the atmosphere of the bar became a little too much. The stench of stale beer overpowered your nose and the tinny audio from the jukebox irked you. You slid off the barstool and threw a couple of crumpled bills on the counter.

Then, barely above a whisper, you heard him rasp, “I thought I was the only one.”

A punch to your chest might have hurt less. 

Your breath stuttered, heart aching at the confession that settled in the space between you. He was falling apart, and you could see it—the way his brows drew together, the way his throat bobbed as he tried to force out something he wasn’t ready to say.

And for the first time, you saw the truth for what it was.

Aaron Hotchner was a man who carried too much. Who loved too hard and too quietly. Who convinced himself that his feelings were a burden he couldn’t afford, even when he was faced with the enormity of it.

But he wanted.

God, he wanted.

And it terrified him.

A bitter laugh escaped you. How could he? No, how dare he expect you to hold on to the idea that you were his when he kept you at a distance further than the rest of the team? That no one else could want you the way he did?

“You could have been, Aaron,” you responded, the weight of the world suddenly crushing you. “But you were the one who made sure you weren’t.”

Something in him shattered. You could tell. The way he flexed his hand, the way his posture stiffened like he was dealing with a blow he wasn’t ready to receive.

“Why are you doing this, to me?” Hotch’s voice was hoarse, thick with emotion— anger, regret, longing and want all tangled together.

“I’m doing this to you?” Your voice wavered, and you hated yourself for it, “Hotch, do you even hear yourself right now?”

He stepped closer, crowding your space, eyes dark with something desperate. “I tried—” He dragged a shaky hand through his hair, “ I tried to stay away. I thought it was the right thing.”

“Right thing for who? It sure as hell wasn’t right for me,” you jabbed an accusatory finger into his chest, ignoring the slight tremble, “You shut me out. You acted like nothing was there, like I had imagined everything.” Your voice cracked, “And now I get to deal with you being jealous because Michael actually sees me? Because he’s not afraid to show me wants me?”

A muscle in Aaron’s jaw fluttered as he repeated, “I told you, it’s not about that.”

“Oh, wasn’t it?” you cried, anger building, “You wanted me to wait for you? To exile myself in the dark and hope that maybe one day you’d stop being afraid of us? That’s not fair, Aaron. I can’t do that to myself. I deserve better.”

“I know.” His voice cracked on the words, and for the first time, you saw the raw emotion on his face— all of it. The weight of it, the struggle in his eyes, the way his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t know if he had the right.

The anger ebbs out of you, replaced with something numb.

“Then why? Why didn’t you—”

Aaron moved then. He reached for you before he could stop himself, finger ghosting over your wrist before settling there, gripping gently. The heat of his fingers burned, like something he had been starving for but denied himself for too long.

“Because… I wanted you. Too much,” he admitted, voice grating like it pained him. His grip tightened on your wrist, thumb tracing the delicate skin. “I was afraid that if I let myself have this— you— I wouldn’t know how to stop.”

It was cruel, really. How he could unravel you with his words, make you forget about the months of pain and anger and hurt you’d endured. Even the way he looked at you like you were someone he couldn’t bear to lose.

“Aaron—”

Whatever you were about to say was swallowed up by his lips on yours. 

It wasn’t anything like the countless times you’d imagined it. You had always figured he’d be gentle, taking his time.

But this wasn’t soft, nor was it careful. This was desperate.

Like he was a man at his breaking point, like someone who had wasted time denying everything, only to give in all at once. His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing across your cheeks as he tilted your head, deepening the kiss. He was pressed flush against you, sandwiching you between the barstool and his body like he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers like sand. In the back of your mind, you faintly registered the whir of the jukebox as it changed the track.

You gasped against Aaron, and that tiny sound undid him. He groaned softly, tilting his head to chase you, to taste more, to lose himself in a way he had always wanted but never permitted.

You breathed in his scent, bourbon and coffee, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt. You were anchoring yourself because this was everything you had been waiting for. 

The kiss lingered, months of tension evaporating between you, the space that had existed suddenly gone, replaced by something breathless and real. You pushed back against him, ready to get your heart’s desire. Aaron didn’t stop; he was kissing you as if it was the last thing he would ever do. He tasted heavenly, much better than you’d ever imagined. Every thought eddied out of your mind as you let the feeling of his lips against yours wash over you. Even before the moment was over, you knew that this memory would be branded into your soul. 

When Aaron finally pulled away, he didn’t go too far. You sucked in a ragged breath and squeezed your eyes closed as he rested his forehead against yours. His breathing was uneven too, and you could feel the warmth of it against your lips. Then, slowly, his hands dropped from your face. He took a step back— reluctantly— just enough to reach up and loosen his tie. 

His fingers scrabbled at the knot for a moment before he wrenched it down forcefully. He then ran his hands through his hair again, mussing it in a way you’d never seen before, and let out a breathless laugh. For a split second, memories of the night when he had held you close flashed before your eyes. He had loosened his tie then, too, before enveloping you in his embrace. 

“I don’t want to be the one who let you get away,” Aaron whispered, his voice bringing you back to the present. 

The pain in your chest throbbed. At how broken and hopeful he sounded, all at once.

“Aaron,” you murmured, letting his name rest on your tongue for a moment too long.

“I—” he stopped, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe himself. This wasn’t where he had thought the night would go. You watched Aaron carefully, his chest still rising and falling too quickly. You reached for his hand, squeezing it once. 

“Aaron,” you uttered his name again, tone firmer, hoping to bring him back to you.

He looked at you then, chocolate brown eyes hardening with resolve. He started, “This… us…”

You cut him off, then. 

“Aaron,” you repeat, brushing your fingers over his jaw, “You need to choose. Me, us. Everything. You have to choose to stay.”

He glanced off to the side somewhere. Then, a slow exhale. A quiet moment of realisation.

He met your gaze again, almost bashfully this time, “If you’ll still have me.”

You laughed then, disbelieving because, of course, Aaron would say that, as if your heart hadn’t been his since the first time you saw him.

Neither of you spoke then. The past, the hurt, the hesitation— but also the possibility— swam through the charged atmosphere.

The choice.

“Okay,” you said simply.

When Aaron pulled you into his chest, you let him.

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any likes/comments/reblogs/follows. Constructive criticism is welcome. Do not plagiarise my content and/or post it anywhere without crediting me.

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[inkivaari]

your Conquest x Reader is so, so delicious… you see the vision!! may i request a Conquest with a f!Reader who is an absolute sunshine? one that doesn’t even fear him at first glance? the type that makes you wonder why this little woman is being so kind to him~ thank you! 🙇🏻‍♀️

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚡 𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚎! 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

a/n: yes yes yes, rubbing hands together like a fly rn, thanks anon! disclaimers: sexual content, i actually don't need to disclaim much this time it's just fluffy fun with a lick of smut because honestly i can't help myself, yippee!

conquest will never understand why you stick around. there's so many red flags about this guy that would make any reasonably minded person run for the hills. his bicep alone is bigger than your head. more than double the size. he's mean, he's old even by viltrumite standards, he's gnarled and grizzly and ill-tempered...

but you? little you? you love him so much it makes his head hurt.

you should have run away screaming the first time he crashed onto your planet and stared you down. instead, you gazed up at him like he was a god that had tumbled out of the heavens. he could swear that look of yours could turn back time by centuries, he felt like a younger man just from being in your presence.

he tried everything to make this little blossom see the fact that he was no good. told you about his mission, about viltrum, about all the planets he'd conquered. you would only gasp with amazement as you clung to his arm. 'so you're, like, super powerful, then? that's so cool!'

he would pretend you irritated him, for all the good that did, only for you to be totally impervious to his growls and grunts. he should fling you to the other side of the planet, he really should... but damn it. it had been so long since anybody had even... spoken to him like this. had a conversation with him, rather than just giving orders. he couldn't help himself, you made it so hard!!

every time he'd try to scare you away, use his strength to throw you up into the air higher and higher, fly you around the world, pick centuries old trees out of the ground with a fingertip? you'd squeal like a kitten! you'd applaud, you'd cheer, you'd beg him to do it again with those huge eyes like two full moons, what could he possibly do?! say no to you?! never!

you were just so... bright. and warm. you talked to him like he was the only person in the world, you were so full of wonder and excitement... sure, you'd get hyper sometimes, but he'd just pick you up and hold you in the air without a word, and you'd stop your spiel and beam down at him, kicking your little legs while they hung in the air. '...helloooooooo.' 'hello, little one.'

he tries his hardest to suppress his lust. you make it so difficult, though! too sweet, far too sweet, it drives him mad. he won't let you leave his sight, he doesn't like not being able to listen to you, smell you, touch your soft skin... if he loses his sunshine now, he'll be in darkness forever, like he always suspected he would be. no. you know what? you were offering your love and your warmth, he would be damned if he didn't accept it. and give you whatever you wanted in return.

when you first kissed him, it left him winded. he didn't understand it, grabbed you and lifted you by the scruff. you giggled and wiggled and beamed at him with those blushy little cheeks, knowing he wasn't gonna do anything, he lets you get away with everything all the time anyway...

he mimics the movement, mashing his lips to yours, not knowing what to do, he has genuinely never felt such a loving touch in his life. you have to teach him as you do most things about how to love, and you do it with a big smile and a patient mind.

he worships the ground you walk on. he's definitely the type to just let you do whatever silly thing you wanna do with him, but he'll pretend to be grumpy about it when all he wants to do is make you giggle and smile. think laying on top of him in the sun after a summer picnic, and you're making little daisy chain crowns to put on his head, and he's just lazing there like the big grumpy bear he is while you mess with him :3

always carrying you in his arms because no little blossom of his is straining her little feet, always following you around like an oversized puppy, but always switches into bear mode when anybody so much as looks at you funny. you've domesticated him enough that he won't kill in front of you... but he's got that fucker's face and scent memorised. after he puts you to bed, it's over, he's tracking them down.

always so cautious when he makes love to you :( clumsy at first, not knowing what all those little nerves do, where they are, what hurts and what makes your toes curl... ah, but he's so attentive. and you're not afraid to tell him where to go, where to lick, how deep to delve with his thick meaty cock... he appreciates your guidance immensely.

when you're used to his strength by now and lifting you like he usually does doesn't put a dent in your hyperactivity, he'll scoop you up and just eat you for hours. just like that. hell, sometimes he won't even stop what he's doing. like, if he's training, lifting some crazy tonnages of weights, and you patter out to bug him while he's on that bench, he's putting the bar down, sitting you on his face, and getting right back to it.

aftercare is so important to him, it never was before but you've changed so much in him after all. he knows how he can wear out his little blossom, knows how tiring it can be to shine as brightly and warmly as you do all day. he's so grateful for you, wants to give you all the pleasure you deserve, wants to bring you to the highest heights of bliss... ah, but he'll bundle you up against his burly, hairy body when you're too orgasmed out to move, babbling and panting and nuzzling at his skin, just wanting your nude bodies to melt into each other. he lets you work it out, massaging your skin with his careful hands, lets you lick and nibble and suck at his neck, lets you warble on and on, and lets you rest. you'll be up at dawn to brighten his day tomorrow <3

OH MAAAAAAN :( i just wanna nibble his big ol chest while i tell him about uni drama it'd heal me

[claramelooo]

I got crazy and write 4 thousand words non-stop! So, I still haven't revised it yet! But there we go! Remember that english isn't my first language, so be gentle 🙇🏻‍♀️

MINORS MUST NOT INTERACT

Paring: Dom Wanda x Fem reader

Summary: Wanda has her beliefs turned upside down the moment she sets eyes on you.

Read here: Prologue | Part 2 - The Prey

Velvet Chains

Predator

Sunday's worship service was an impeccably choreographed event, and Wanda Maximoff played her role masterfully. She sat in the front pew beside Vision, with her neatly dressed children beside her. The choir sang the hymn she had personally selected, their voices echoing through the stained glass of Wylie's small church.

Her hands rested, folded neatly on her lap, her gaze fixed on the pastor as he fervently preached about grace and redemption. Wanda knew precisely when to nod in agreement, murmur a soft “Amen,” or smile at those around her as though every word touched her deeply.

But that Sunday, something was different.

As the pastor paused dramatically in his sermon, Wanda glanced toward the congregation. Her eyes scanned the rows of familiar faces—regular families, ever-present elderly members, restless children. And then she saw...

You.

A few rows back, sitting beside your parents, was a new face. Young, delicate, with eyes that seemed to absorb the surroundings with cautious curiosity. You sat slightly hunched, fingers clasped in your lap, hair falling in effortless waves over your shoulders.

Wanda tilted her head almost imperceptibly, trying to get a better look. Who are you? Why had she never seen you before?

There was something about you that made her catch her breath for a moment. Maybe it was the contrast: a radiant, almost brutal youth placed in such a rigid, conservative setting. Or maybe it was your expression—timid and curious, yet exuding an air of superiority, as if you were too evolved for this, as if you were there against your will but determined to maintain a respectful facade.

A pang of curiosity stirred in Wanda’s chest, something rare in her meticulously planned life.

When your eyes met hers, it was fleeting, like a flicker. You immediately looked away, your heart pounding against your ribcage, your palms sweating after encountering the most intense green eyes you had ever seen. However, for Wanda, something sparked within her, a small ember she hadn’t felt in years. Something that compelled her.

The pastor resumed preaching, but Wanda barely listened. Her mind was fixed on the strange sensation you had awakened. Curiosity? Perhaps. Admiration? Why? It was something so profound, so unsettling...

At the end of the service, as everyone stood to bid each other farewell, Wanda observed from a distance. She saw you accompanying your parents, keeping your head down as they animatedly conversed with other congregation members.

“Who are you?” Wanda thought, a subtle, calculated smile curving her lips.

Concluding a conversation with a fellow member, Wanda began walking slowly toward you. Your parents… What were their names again? She tried to recall but came up empty. Ah yes, she’d spoken to them during last week’s choir rehearsal. Or was it before that? It didn’t matter. They were irrelevant, like nearly everyone in that circle.

But you...

Now, you were different.

Wanda straightened her posture, resting her hands behind her back, and began her approach. Her steps were slow, measured, as if she sought nothing more than casual conversation. Yet, inside her, every movement was strategic. She needed to know more.

When she reached your group, it was your parents who noticed her first. The man—always with his tie slightly askew—greeted Wanda with a goofy smile, while the woman, nervous as usual, began speaking quickly about the sermon.

“Oh, Wanda! Wasn’t the sermon wonderful? The pastor is so inspiring, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely,” Wanda replied with the sweetest smile she could muster. But her eyes, sharp and piercing, were locked on you.

To anyone watching, it was clear you didn’t belong here—the air of discomfort around you only heightened Wanda’s interest. You weren’t like the other young women in the congregation—girls who laughed loudly and gestured wildly. No. You seemed contained, but there was a wildness in your eyes, as if something deeper simmered beneath the surface.

“And you must be…?” Wanda finally spoke, directing her attention to you.

Your eyes lifted, startled to be addressed.

“I’m Y/n.”

Your voice was unexpectedly husky, with a slight accent that gave your name an intriguing edge. Wanda tilted her head slightly, as though savoring it.

“Y/n...” Wanda repeated, letting the syllables roll off her tongue. “What a lovely name.”

She extended her hand for a handshake, and you hesitated before accepting. When your fingers touched, her grip lingered just a second too long, her hold firmer than necessary.

“I see you’re a new face around here. Where are you from, dear?” Wanda asked, her tone casual but brimming with hidden intent.

“Ah, I… I was at boarding school,” you replied, shrugging.

Boarding school. The word reverberated in Wanda’s mind. You were something. Something she couldn’t quite name yet, but it piqued her curiosity even further.

“It’s nice to have you home, sweetheart. I’m sure your parents are thrilled to have you back,” Wanda said, casting a warm glance at the couple, who nodded eagerly.

But Wanda wasn’t speaking to them.

She was speaking to you.

Directly, and only to you.

The woman in front of you was beautiful, almost untouchable, perfect. Yet, something in her gaze felt brutal, completely clashing with the image of a typical American wife. Her intense stare made you tremble.

Wanda maintained her gentle smile as she spoke to your parents, but inside, her mind was working quickly, analyzing every detail about you. The way you kept your shoulders slightly hunched, as if trying to shield yourself from the environment, yet your eyes dared anyone to look for too long. It was a fascinating dichotomy: the shy young woman and the rebellious soul, coexisting in such a disconcerting way.

You were trying to control your breathing. That handshake—firm, warm, intentional—had stirred something deep within you. Wanda was charming in a way that felt almost artificial. Her green eyes glowed with kindness, but there was something else there, something you couldn’t name. Something that made your heart race, though you weren’t sure if it was fear or excitement.

As she spoke to your parents, her gaze flicked to you now and then, too quickly for others to notice. But you felt it. You felt every single time her eyes landed on you, like a hot blade slicing through your skin.

When she finally addressed you, her words were soft, but there was something more. She wanted to know more. She wanted to hear your voice, feel your response.

"It must have been an interesting experience, boarding school," Wanda commented, tilting her head in a nearly maternal way.

You shrugged, trying to appear indifferent, but felt your cheeks heat up. She seemed fascinated by you, and that made your mind flood with uncomfortable questions. Why was she so interested? Why was this woman—beautiful, flawless, almost unattainable—speaking to you as if you were important?

"It wasn’t a big deal," you replied, trying to downplay the word, even though you knew it was a big deal. It was painful and traumatic.

Wanda let out a small smile, something that felt like a secret shared just between the two of you.

"I’d like to hear more about it," she said, her voice sweet but laden with something deeper.

You didn’t know how to respond. Your hands fidgeted, and you shoved them into your coat pockets to hide them. Wanda noticed. She noticed everything.

"My mom wanted me back. Seems like they didn’t like me much at boarding school." Your reply was casual, almost insolent, but your fingers drummed against your crossed arm, betraying a hint of nervousness.

Wanda arched an eyebrow, amused.

"They didn’t like you? Or you made them not like you?" The question came with a venomous sweetness, and her smile widened just enough to be intimidating.

You blinked, surprised. No one had ever disarmed you so quickly. "Maybe a little of both," you replied, trying to keep your composure.

"Interesting." Wanda tilted her head, evaluating every microexpression, every movement. There was something fierce in you, something that still needed direction. And Wanda knew how to shape that energy.

She stepped back, but her presence somehow felt even more imposing.

"Well, Y/n, welcome back." Her voice carried a touch of irony, but also something you couldn’t decipher. Then Wanda turned to your parents, smiling broadly as if the conversation had been purely polite. "You have a delightful daughter," she said.

The couple smiled awkwardly, but—you knew deep down those words weren’t for them. They were for you, and there was something in her tone that made your heart race.

[...]

You sat on the edge of your bed, staring at the ceiling as if it held all the answers you were looking for. It didn’t. The walls were exactly the same as before—cream-colored, impeccably boring—but everything felt different now.

Back home.

Home...

What a bullshit.

You had never wanted to be here. They sent you away because they couldn’t handle you, and now they brought you back because... why? Shame? Regret? It didn’t matter. It was all a never-ending cycle.

You ran your fingers through your hair, pulling lightly as if that would remove the persistent thoughts from your head. Closing your eyes, you let the memories flood in—flashes of that day at boarding school, muffled laughter, unexpected warmth, and the bittersweet taste that marked you more than it should have.

Was it a mistake? Of course not. But to them, everything about you was a mistake.

"Y/n!" Your mother’s voice echoed from the hallway, pulling you back to reality.

You didn’t respond immediately, instead looking out the window. The afternoon was sunny, the kind of day people used for picnics or gardening. But you? You were stuck here, surrounded by the crushing expectations of a family that wanted you to be someone you weren’t.

"Y/n, I’m talking to you!" Her voice was louder now, more impatient.

With an exaggerated sigh, you got up, dragging your feet to the door. Your mother was there, her face tense, as it always was when dealing with you.

"What?" you asked, crossing your arms.

She took a deep breath, as if she needed to remind herself to stay composed.

"I need you to be more... cooperative, you know? After everything that happened, the last thing we need is more problems."

You laughed, but not in a way that expressed humor.

"Problems? Oh, sure. Because I’m the big problem in this family."

Your mother narrowed her eyes, but before she could respond, her expression changed. Something more animated, almost euphoric, overtook her.

"Never mind. Listen to this: the Maximoffs invited us for dinner. Wanda and Vis really want to meet you. Isn’t that wonderful?"

Wonderful? You bit your lower lip to keep from laughing again. Of course, your mother was thrilled. Wanda Maximoff was practically royalty around here—perfect, beautiful, the model of everything your mother wished you could be.

You felt a wave of discomfort, but also something else, something you couldn’t name.

"Fine," you replied with disdain, though your mind was already racing with thoughts of the older woman.

The Maximoff home was immaculate, the kind of place that looked like it belonged in a design magazine. Every detail, from the arrangement of the furniture to the soft hues on the walls, screamed perfection—a direct reflection of the woman now greeting everyone at the door.

Wanda was radiant, wearing a delicate blue dress that subtly but undeniably flattered her figure. The smile she gave your family seemed genuine, almost too warm to be real.

"Welcome! It’s such a pleasure to have you here," she said, her voice brimming with enthusiasm that felt authentic.

You watched as your mother, clearly enchanted, exchanged pleasantries and compliments, while your father stood awkwardly, offering little more than a polite smile. Wanda cast a glance in your direction, and something in her gaze made you swallow hard. It was curious, almost probing, as though she were studying you.

Inside, the dining table was perfectly set, with gleaming plates and neatly folded napkins. The aroma of home-cooked food was irresistible, the entire scene resembling a margarine commercial.

"Please, take a seat," Wanda said, gesturing toward the chairs.

You chose the farthest end of the table, but Wanda didn’t seem to mind. She took a seat directly across from you, her eyes fixed on you as if there were nothing else worth looking at.

The conversation started light, filled with small talk. Wanda asked questions about the church, the neighborhood, and community events. Your parents eagerly answered, oblivious to the fact that Wanda’s questions were never truly directed at them.

"And you, Y/n?" she asked at last, leaning forward slightly over the table. "How has it been, coming back home?"

You stopped chewing, caught by her gaze, which was almost suffocating in its intensity.

"Normal," you replied with a shrug, trying to keep your tone neutral.

"Ah, but coming home is never that simple, is it?" Wanda countered, her small smile more of a challenge than anything else.

"I guess it depends on the home," you shot back, letting a hint of acidity seep into your tone.

Your mother gave you a warning look, but Wanda merely laughed softly, as if she had expected no less from you.

"Of course. Every home has its... complexities," she said, savoring the words as she spoke them.

The conversation continued, but Wanda always found a way to steer it back to you.

"Your parents mentioned you were at a boarding school. What was that like?" Vision asked this time.

You hesitated, feeling the weight of Wanda’s gaze, as though every word you spoke was being scrutinized.

"It was... an experience," you replied vaguely, hoping to end the topic quickly.

But Wanda didn’t seem like someone who settled for vague answers.

"It must have been hard to be away from home for so long. Especially at such a... young age." Her tone was sweet, but the intensity in her eyes made you feel as if she were trying to pry open your mind with sheer will.

"Hard isn’t exactly the word," you said, straightening your posture as if that would give you more control over the situation.

Wanda smiled again, that layered smile, and leaned back slightly in her chair.

"A little girl full of secrets, aren’t you? That’s interesting."

You blinked, feeling heat rise to your face. Why did she say things like that? And why did it send waves of heat straight to your core?

The evening wore on, everyone mingling—except you, of course. Now your parents were in the living room with Vision, while Wanda was in the kitchen washing dishes. You felt like a moth drawn to a flame, approaching something that could destroy you—and you didn’t care.

The kitchen felt smaller than before, the air heavy with something invisible, something that made your skin tingle. Wanda was drying her hands with a dish towel, every movement meticulous, as if she had all the time in the world. When you entered, she didn’t look up immediately, but you knew she felt your presence. Wanda always seemed to know everything happening around her.

"Can I help?" you asked, your voice hesitant but firm enough not to sound weak.

Wanda looked up, and for a moment, it felt like she was measuring you. Her lips curved into a smile so perfect it almost seemed fake. She leaned casually against the sink, resting her wrists on the counter.

"No need, darling," she said, her tone as sweet as honey but with something sharp lurking beneath it. "I always take care of everything."

There was something in the way she said "I always take care of everything" that felt like a reminder, almost a warning. Still, you stayed.

"I insist," you replied, trying to mask your discomfort. "I don’t like standing around doing nothing."

"Oh, I’ve noticed," Wanda said, her voice light but her gaze intense. "Young people like you always need to be doing something, moving, talking... acting."

She took a step toward you, slow and almost casual, but it made you hold your breath.

"You seem... restless," Wanda continued, tilting her head slightly. "I wonder why that is."

You crossed your arms, trying to create some sort of barrier.

"Maybe I’m just not used to... this."

"This?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow. "And what exactly is 'this'?"

Wanda was close now, close enough that you could smell her faint floral perfume—delicate yet overwhelming. She ran her fingers along the edge of the counter, as if tracing something invisible.

"Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter," you said defensively, avoiding her gaze and trying not to seem intimidated.

"Look at me when I’m speaking to you." Her voice was firmer this time, a command impossible to ignore.

Your eyes snapped back to hers immediately, and you hated how automatic, how natural it felt.

"Better," Wanda said, her smile softening again, though the control in her tone remained unwavering. "I like your eyes."

You swallowed hard, feeling exposed in a way you’d never experienced before. You wanted to respond—something, anything—but your throat felt tight.

She laughed softly, a sound that sent shivers down your spine.

"I like this," she said, leaning in slightly. "A sharp tongue, someone who thinks they can... challenge."

You swallowed again, her eyes catching every small movement, every hint of hesitation.

"But let me tell you something, sweetheart," Wanda whispered, her voice low and dripping with authority. "Challenges are only interesting up to a point. After that, they become... tiresome."

There was a subtle threat in her tone, something that made you feel small, as if she held all the power in that moment.

"Are you saying I’m a nuisance?" you countered, your voice a little stronger now, trying to reclaim some control.

Her smile widened, but her eyes remained dark.

"No. I’m saying you need to learn when... to find your place."

She took another step closer, now nearly brushing against you, her presence overwhelming. Your heart raced, though you couldn’t tell if it was from fear, anger, or... something else.

"And where would that place be?" you challenged, hating the slight falter in your voice at the end.

Wanda laughed again, this time low and husky, carrying something that made your entire body tingle.

"Exactly where I want you to be," she replied, her words sounding like a promise.

And then, her expression shifted, softening as she turned to call the others, offering them a slice of her apple pie.

It was then you realized that the woman before you was a predator, and you were her prey.

~*~

Should I continue?

[mandarinmoons]

omg i love ur account soo bad, i would rlly like to read about Spencer being jealous of Derek, for the reader to comfort him and try to help with his insecurities, lowk sad ik but pleaseee 🙇🏻‍♀️

Spencer sighed as he watched Derek from afar, talking to a group of women. Each of the girls seemed to be entranced with what the man in front of them was talking about, one of them playing with her hair while the other one kept biting her lip which turned into a not so subtle smirk over time.

Spencer hadn’t had the best luck with women, he had a few take interest in him over time, but it never grew into something serious. He blamed himself for not being the archetype of a man girls would usually want from what he saw and no matter how hard he would try to be more appealing, it just wasn’t him and he wouldn’t be able to keep up the facade for too long.

“What’s on your mind, boy wonder?”

Spencer blinked his eyes as you walked over to him and brought him out of his thoughts. Spencer wondered if he should tell you what’s on his mind or would it be something he would eventually get over after some time. It was hard to hide anything from you though, the sparkle in your eyes made Spencer crack and he’d always tell you whatever it was he was thinking of, you had never judged him for it as well, so he had his answer.

“Y/N, be honest, is there anything about me that’s… unattractive?”

“What do you mean? I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.”

“Really?”

You nodded as you took a seat next to Spencer, your hand reaching out and thumb running across the back of his hand. Spencer wasn’t one for physical touch, but whenever you showed it it put him at ease.

“Where is all of this coming from?”

“I look at Morgan at times, the way he talks to women, how he presents himself, the way he is basically and I don’t know I just… wish I could be that way.”

“I’ve always liked the way that you are. Men similar to Derek put me off at first, it makes me feel like they have other intentions, but when we first met only minutes in and you were talking about the differences between plant and human cells and I thought that it was really fascinating.”

Spencer chuckled as he remembered the day you both had met. He was scared that he had messed up his first interaction with you and that you would stay clear of him whenever you would come across in the bullpen, but you did the exact opposite. You’d always take time out of your day to go talk to Spencer, even if it was the most random subject someone could think of, but you never regretted it and kept coming back for more.

“There are people out there that adore people like you Spencer and I’m proud to say that I’m one of them. Plus, I think you’re cuter than Derek.”

Pressing a kiss to Spencer’s cheek, his eyes went wide as you waved goodbye and he watched you return to your desk, a slight bounce in your step as you strode across the room.

Spencer chuckled as his eyes met the floor, somehow your words set him at ease during times he needed it the most. He didn’t know what he had done to deserve someone like you in his life, but whatever it was he was sure he’d do it a thousand times again to have even one more conversation like this.

You can find my masterlist here!

Let me know your thoughts in the comments and like & reblog to support <3

[getmeoutofhell]

heyo bebe!! i’m wondering if u can do some Art smut w an afab reader…. That shot of him in the T3 trailer sitting on the Santa chair is fucking me up. Can u do some sitting-on-lap naughtiness…🙇🏻‍♀️

Art the Clown x f! reader smut

“oh. this is a surprise.” you say, seeing your lovely fiancé in a santa outfit. you knew art was odd, and unpredictable, but that’s why you liked him. you loved your clown man.

you walked over to him, sitting on his lap. “you look so handsome baby. my handsome man.” you say, before you suddenly feel something rock hard against your clothed pussy. you only sitting on him made him horny you’ve realized. “you like me sitting on you baby? does that feel good art?” he looks at you with admiration, something only you can unlock with him. you lean forward and give him a hard kiss, indicating you want him to fuck you. you couldn’t help it, he looked so sexy in his santa costume.

you started grinding against his dick, feeling your wetness soak your panties. you feel his cold hands slide up your back pulling up your shirt. feeling his cock against you was enough to cum at the moment.

he takes your shirt off, before attaching his mouth to your neck, licking at the skin. ‘fuck baby.’, you say a little above a whisper. you takes your hands and remove his santa hat, before putting it on your head. you give his bald head a kiss before you remove his head from you.

you then get up from his lap before pulling down your pants and panties in one motion. art became impatient as he pulls down his costumes pants down enough for his cock to pop out. as weird as art may be, his cock is a pretty big size. fuck, your sometimes surprised that you can take him. you lick your right hand before guiding it to his cock, sliding up and down on him. your pussy couldn’t wait for him any longer so you just slid him inside of you. you shut your eyes as you feel him stretching you out. “fuck!”

not even 5 minutes later art somehow doesn’t have his top on, and he’s now pounding up inside of you. skin to skin clapping was heard even down the street. you can tell he loves fucking you so much. “mm, baby i’m cuming!!” you moan so loud that you were scared someone was gonna hear, but you knew he didn’t care. he could get rid of them in the blink of an eye if he wanted to. that’s what turned you on. made you crave him more than normal.

you felt him give one final thrust before you felt his hot cum release inside of your core. your body started shaking you came as well, both of you having your high together.

as you take some time to calm down from your orgasm, you seem to notice art had other plains when he starts fucking himself back inside you. looks like your gonna be there for a while.

hope you enjoyed!

[ducklingpia]

❗️guys please put on your earphones

EXCUSE ME!!!!

This scene!!!!! This scene had me blushing like crazy nobody could do it like this mannnnnn 😩😩😩 he’s such a sensual man I’m going insane

And I don’t care what anyone said bc his EN VA is TOP-TIER for me

THE SOFT BREATHY, HUSKY TONE in his voice always makes me melt into a puddle 🫠

Rafayel EN VA idk who you are but if you’re reading this, I hope you have a good day, I hope your pillow are always cold, I hope every time you put your hand in your pocket you always find random money, I hope your neighbors are very quiet, I hope all your favorite menus are always in-store, I hope every time you buy groceries things always on sale, I hope you never have to wait more than 30 seconds in a red light

Everybody say it after me, thank you for doing the God’s work, thank you for existing, Thank you Rafayel EN VA

🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️

[vamph00n]

now you're so good can I ask for a enha hyungs most to least likely getting angry and have rough sex with their girlfriend pleasee 🙇🏻‍♀️

👀 well, well, well,

mdni!! nsfw

femreaderxenha!!hyungline

mtl to have angry sex with their gf

smut tags under the cut

smut tags: toys, spanking, sadism, toxicity, pnv, public sex, fingering, recording, etc

i

most

sunghoon: this man, oh god. personally i see him as the type to not let his s/o know how much something bothers him until it makes him break his usual demeanor. like, he keeps it bottled up until he can’t take it any more imo. so when he gets angry, he goes to the extremes. pleading while being gagged by clothe and hands bound behind your back; hoon is a different person when he’s angry. muffled moans escape your throat as he slides out the vibrator from your abused cunt, and replaces it with his own length. “no more!” you’d cry after hours of edging, and ruined orgasms. if your face wasn’t down on the sheets when he slid into you, you envisioned he was cracking a smile. the sight of your pretty hole sputtering out white creamy excretions of your own release, sunghoon slides his long hard cock into you and spanks your ass red. so generously letting you adjust to the size, before he ruins you. the whiny sounds he elicits from your throat makes him grip you harder, and his anger courses through his dick as he slams into you. “fucking take what i give you.” he’d say as his hips thrust aggressively against your body. the head of his length would prod at your cervix with every shove, and tears would stream down your face. he’s fully unashamed to admit seeing you like this gets him off, but you on the other hand are a bit embarrassed to admit you enjoy this too. but then again who wouldn’t? it’s sunghoon.

heeseung: he’s the type to bend you over in public and fuck you hard when he’s angry. i don’t think he’d even necessarily be angry at you, but he’d definitely do it anyways. maybe someone was looking at you a little too hard while you were shopping. you’d notice the change in his attitude, and all of a sudden his fingers are dancing along the hem of your shorts, grazing over your clothed pussy in the damn department store. now, heeseung needs someone who can match his energy, and you being his sweet girlfriend obliges. even if it wasn’t that serious to begin with, like sure some guys were checking you out again, your boyfriend had to let them know you were his. he’d take you to the dressing room, unabashedly fuck you raw. is he’s angry, at you? no. just at the fact some people can’t keep their eyes off of what’s his. while being the brunt of his anger can be tiring, heeseung makes up for it by letting you have your way back at home.

jay: when he’s angry with you, the cruelest punishment he can give is denying you his touch. he wouldn’t give it to you rough or tie you up like sunghoon per say, but he’d probably force you into humiliating yourself in front of him. since i heavily believe he’d turn his girlfriend into a pillow princess, it would be a little treat for him to watch you try and pleasure yourself. hell, i think he’d even record it so he could watch it later. holding his phone up as he watched your fingers toy with your clit, he smiles. not shutting up, he’d talk through your struggle. “aw, can’t even get off without me?” you’d moan at his dirty mouth, and try to rub circles on your cunt, but it’s just not the same as him. your hips would thrust forward onto your drenched hand, an your need for pleasure would drive you insane. jay would be an even bigger tease, as he sits down in the chair in front of you he’d palm his bulge while watching. eyes fixated on him, you’d try to rub faster, your pussy clenching around nothing. finally he’d get annoyed, and stop recording. “you couldn’t even cum on your own like a good girl?” jay would ask in a mocking tone, before picking you up bridal style and taking you to bed to finish you off.

jake: angry? him? well yes he does get angry, but i think you’d probably be the one to calm him down when he’s upset. yes, you may have pissed him off somehow, but you’d ultimately calm him down by treating him. you’d let him sit back as you do all the work, stroking his already hard cock because his sex drive is insatiable. call it manipulative, but even when he’s angry at you for something kind of serious, you manage to turn the tables on him, and use his dick against him. it doesn’t help that when he’s pent up all he can think about is cumming. trying to get that sweet release, he’d just forget whatever it was that made him angry, and submit his body to you. he fully trusts you anyways, and doesn’t mind being at the mercy of such a pretty girl like you. actually, he doesn’t recall actually ever getting so angry he fucks it out. either you calm him down, or he’s on the receiving end, but that’s a different story.

least

a/n: like and reblog if you read/enjoyed 🫶

[whatdoyouwanttocallmefor]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴋɪɴɢᴘɪɴ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ- ʙᴀɴɢ ᴄʜᴀɴ

Hey there! So, the story is here. The first ever story for Let The World Burn. Imma starts with 2 members first!! As always, let me remind you this story is a short story that I made in a different chap because.... I want to!!! plus, you guys seem to love the first story, so here we are reading the first one. Anyways, enjoy!!!

Edit: I forgot to apologize that I'm late with posting since I'm busy with holidays and families. That's all and I'm very sorry guys 🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️

WARNING: Mature themes, violence, possessiveness, power dynamics, dark romance, mdni, no proofread, etc...

TAGLIST: @lixies-favorite-cookie

---

The city belonged to him. Every street, every shadow, every whispered deal in the dead of night bore his mark. Bang Chan wasn’t just a name. He was a force, a legend that both terrified and commanded respect. And you? You were the one thing in his life that wasn’t calculated, wasn’t another strategic move. You were his world, and he made sure you knew it every day.

You weren’t sure when it happened when he became more than just the enigmatic man everyone feared. Maybe it was the night he showed up outside your apartment, eyes darker than the midnight sky, blood staining the cuffs of his crisp white shirt.

“Get in,” he had said, voice steady despite the chaos that surrounded him.

You hesitated. “Chan, what—”

He reached for your hand, his grip firm yet careful. “Now, sweetheart.”

And that was the moment you realized: Bang Chan didn’t just own the city. He owned you, too.

Chan was the kind of man who gave you everything before you even asked. Lavish penthouses, diamonds that sparkled like stars, a wardrobe fit for royalty. But his love? That was the real treasure. It was in the way he touched you, the way he shielded you from the darkness that lurked beyond his world.

"Everything you want, just say the word, baby," he whispered one night, his arms caging you in against the grand balcony overlooking the skyline. "You never have to worry about anything."

You placed a hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. "What if the only thing I want is you?"

His lips curved into a smirk, but there was something else in his eyes, something vulnerable, something raw. "Then you have me. Always."

The threats were constant. Being with the most powerful man in the city came with risks. But Chan never let you see the war he fought behind closed doors. He handled everything before it could reach you.

---

One evening, as you dined in an upscale restaurant, an unfamiliar man approached your table, his gaze lingering a little too long.

"Pretty thing like you shouldn’t be alone. Need some company?" the man smirked, completely unaware of the danger he had just walked into.

Chan chuckled darkly, leaning forward, his fingers tapping against the table in a slow, deliberate rhythm. "That’s funny. Because in ten seconds, you’ll be regretting every word you just said."

The man scoffed, opening his mouth to retort, but before he could, two of Chan’s men were already at his sides, their grips tight, their expressions cold.

"Take him outside," Chan ordered, his voice calm yet final.

The man’s bravado crumbled in an instant. He was dragged away, and you never saw him again. That night, as Chan held you in his arms, his grip was just a little tighter, his kisses a little deeper.

"No one touches what’s mine, sweetheart," he murmured against your skin. "No one."

---

But it wasn’t always blood and threats. With you, Chan was different. Softer. He let down his guard in ways no one else had ever seen.

Late at night, he’d pull you into his lap, resting his chin on your shoulder. "Do you ever regret it? Being with me?"

You turned to face him, brushing your fingers through his hair. "Never."

A rare, genuine smile crossed his lips. "Good. Because I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you."

And as you curled up against him, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, you realized something.

Bang Chan may have ruled the city.

But you ruled his heart.

---

Yahoo, off we start with our leader. To the next member!

[heeluvv]

Any thoughts on how Jay acts when he’s jealous of another guy trying to flirt w his girl?

idk about y’all but this is def the way i’d picture him jealous 🙇🏻‍♀️(short little drabble)

MINE.ᐟ

pairing ᝰ.ᐟ park jongseong x reader

warnings ᝰ.ᐟ dom! jay, p in v, unprotected sex, etc.

natty’s notes ᝰ.ᐟ mdni, hate comments will be deleted.

when jay gets jealous, it’s not the quiet, brooding type of jealousy—it’s sharp, unforgiving, and dangerously possessive. he doesn’t sit back and watch while some guy tries to flirt with you. he doesn’t give you space to handle it on your own. no, the second he sees another man getting too close, speaking to you in a way that makes his blood boil, his entire demeanor shifts.

his jaw clenches, eyes narrowing as his hands curl into fists at his sides. his patience is razor-thin, and he’s not in the mood to play games. he doesn’t wait for you to push the guy away—he steps in without hesitation, closing the space between you and the other guy in an instant.

“the fuck do you think you’re doing?” his voice is sharp, cold, carrying an authority that makes the air feel heavier. his hand grips your wrist, pulling you away from the guy with a force that’s just shy of rough, his body immediately replacing yours as a barrier.

his glare is deadly, pure ice, and when the guy tries to stammer out some excuse, jay just scoffs. “don’t waste your breath. you knew she wasn’t available, but you tried anyway. that’s pathetic.”

he doesn’t need to throw a punch to put fear into someone—his words alone, the venom laced in them, are enough to cut deep. but if the guy still doesn’t get the message, still lingers too long, jay won’t hesitate to get physical. a firm shove to the chest, a low growl of, “walk away before i make you,” is all it takes for the idiot to scramble.

but jay’s anger doesn’t die down so easily. even after the guy is gone, his grip on your wrist remains tight as he pulls you into a secluded corner, his dark eyes locking onto yours.

“why the fuck did you let him get that close?” his voice is low, seething, his fingers still wrapped around you, possessive and firm. “were you enjoying the attention, huh? you like letting guys think they have a chance?”

he’s fuming, his jealousy bubbling over into frustration, and he’s not about to let you off easily. his fingers tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet his heated gaze.

the second you’re alone, jay doesn’t waste a single second—doesn’t even wait until you’re home. he takes you right there in his car, the tension from earlier snapping the moment he yanks you into his lap. the air is thick, heavy with lust and frustration as he forces you down onto his cock, stretching you open without hesitation.

“you fucking loved it, didn’t you?” he growls, voice rough with jealousy as his fingers tangle in your hair, yanking your head back to expose your throat. his grip is firm, dominant, the sting of his fingers in your scalp only adding to the heat pooling in your stomach.

his hips snap up, thrusting into you so hard the car rocks with every movement. the windows fog up instantly, the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the small space, mixing with the filthy moans spilling from your lips.

“f-fuck, jay!” you cry out, your back arching as his grip on your hair tightens.

his dark eyes bore into you, his jaw clenched tight, the veins in his arms bulging as he slams into you harder, deeper—like he’s trying to fuck the memory of that other guy out of your head, like he’s trying to remind you exactly who you belong to.

“i should’ve fucked you in front of him,” he growls, his words dripping with possessiveness. “should’ve made him watch how fucking ruined you get when you’re taking my dick—” his thrusts grow sharper, faster, each one sending shockwaves through your body, making your legs tremble. “—is that what you want? huh?”

your head is spinning, your nails digging into his shoulders as his pace becomes relentless. your walls tighten around him, your body teetering on the edge, completely at his mercy.

then—smack.

his free hand comes down hard on your ass, the sharp sting making you yelp before it melts into another desperate moan. his palm meets your skin again, slapping in perfect sync with his ruthless thrusts, the heat blooming across your flesh.

“who owns this pussy?” his voice is all gravel, raw and dominant as he pistons into you, refusing to let up.

“you! fuck—you, jay!” you sob, your body trembling as you cling to him, barely able to form words between ragged breaths.

his smirk is dark, feral. “that’s fucking right.”

he leans in, his lips ghosting over your ear, his breath hot and heavy. “i’m gonna fuck you so fucking hard, the only thing imprinted in your pretty little brain is me.”

and with the way he’s fucking you—relentless, unyielding, like he’s got something to prove—you know he means it.

natty’s notes ᝰ.ᐟ he’s so fine like yes jay ruin me pls 😩 hoped you enjoyed!