#brushes for contouring and highlighting

[thebloggingbuzz2024]

Being Smexy is all about confidence and loving yourself, and I'm owning ...

[angelovi]

Homecoming.·:≈☆≈:·.

cw; 18+ content, minors dni: spanking, fingering (r! receiving), oral sex (r! receiving), unprotected p in v sex (wrap it before you tap it), breeding, age gap (reader is 22, ghost is 41), mirror sex, ghost is fully clothed in this, having to be quiet, gun fucking, quickie

summary: Its been a year since the supposed death of your husband after he was deployed, but when you wake up to find him lying next to you, alive and well, your life changes for the better.

an: short story, didn't wanna do too much lol

wc: 675

Marrying a soldier was always going to be tough, but getting the call that he was MIA while you’re carrying his child? That kind of loss cuts deeper than you ever imagined.

After a challenging hour of rocking and singing lullabies, you’ve finally settled your newborn baby girl to sleep for the night. As her tiny chest rises and falls in the soft glow of the night light, you feel relieved, determined to keep her peaceful and undisturbed.

You get into bed, but the sheets don't feel comforting. The light from the street lamp creates shadows that remind you of Simon's disappearance. You think about the laughter and good times you had together, now replaced by fear and worry.

You close your eyes, hoping to sleep, but feel overwhelmed by sadness and anxiety. Time seems to stand still, and you feel stuck in this moment, longing for the normal life you once had.

As you wake up, warmth envelops you from the big muscular man spooning you. You feel a curious stirring in your lower abdomen. The dim light filters through the curtains, highlighting the contours of his strong physique. His steady breathing and the security of his presence create a mix of intrigue and calm.

"Simon?.."

"Shhh, go back to sleep, love," he whispers softly, his movements tender and unhurried, as if memorizing the feeling of being this close to you. As my moans grow a little louder, Simon leans in, his lips brushing my ear as he murmurs, "Gotta be quiet, princess. Don’t wanna wake the baby. You’re such a good mama, I know you can keep it together for me…"

Simon slides his fingers into your mouth, stifling the moans threatening to escape as he takes you from behind with relentless precision. His grip is firm as he shifts you, positioning you to face the mirror beside the bed. “Look at yourself,” he murmurs, his voice low and commanding, “See how perfect you look while I’m ruining you.”

The first orgasm builds faster than you anticipated, crashing into you like a tidal wave.

Your body trembles as the wave of pleasure overtakes you, your legs threatening to give out beneath you. Simon’s grip tightens on your hips, steadying you, a low, possessive growl rumbling in his chest.

His hand comes down to roughly meet your ass, spanking you hard. "That's my girl."

Your eyes meet your reflection in the mirror, cheeks flushed, lips parted, and a dazed expression that only fuels his intensity. Simon doesn’t relent, thrusting deeper, determined to chase your next high before you can even catch your breath.

"Daddy, fuck!" you gasp, barely able to get the words out.

That catches him off guard, his movements faltering for a moment before his lips curl into a slow, wicked smirk. "Say that again," he growls, his voice low and commanding, sending a shiver straight down your spine.

"Daddy.."

"Again."

"Daddy!"

"Good girl." He pulls out quickly and you whine in protest. He spares a sympathetic smile before grabbing his pistol, ensuring the safety is on.

After seeing your concerned expression he reassures you. "It's alright love. You trust me yeah?" Before you can even mutter a response you can feel your hole being prodded at with the barrel of the pistol.

"S-Si!"

"It's alright baby take a deep breath.. Big stretch.." He slowly inserts the barrel of the pistol into you and you gasp at its size.

He slowly pulls the gun out before pushing it back in, feeling the way you instinctively tighten around it.

You toss your head back as a wave of pure bliss crashes over you, unable to hold back the soft sounds escaping your lips. "S-Si I'm gonna-"

"Let go. Make a mess around my gun baby girl."

With his words pushing you over the edge, you let go completely, surrendering to the moment without a second thought.

The baby's soft cries pull you from your haze, her stirring breaking the silence of the room. Simon chuckles, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Looks like you woke her, love. Guess we'll have to work on keeping it quieter next time."

[madewithsilk]

Ellie spanking you then making you get off on her thigh for roaming around the house without her permission after she kidnapped you (with her gentle validating after care of course)

— ᴀʙᴅᴜᴄᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴇʟʟɪᴇ 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ; ᴄᴀᴘᴛᴏʀ ᴇʟʟɪᴇ ᴡɪʟʟɪᴀᴍꜱ x ᴄᴀᴘᴛɪᴠᴇ (ꜰ!) ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴄᴡ; ᴅᴜʙ ᴄᴏɴ, ꜱᴘᴀɴᴋɪɴɢ, ᴛʜɪɢʜ ʀɪᴅɪɴɢ, ᴅᴀᴄʀʏᴘʜɪʟɪᴀ

Ellie’s home had a lingering chill, a sense of eeriness that made it feel even more desolate. Being trapped there against your will, with a constant ache of homesickness gnawing at you, was daunting enough. Yet Ellie somehow managed to amplify that feeling. She was often absent and at work, leaving you alone in a space that felt like a hollow shell. The temptation to escape was strong, but deep down, you knew Ellie had taken every precaution to keep her house locked down tight. Despite her attempts to show a flicker of trust—leaving you untethered, without bindings—she still enforced a firm rule: you were not to step beyond the confines of her bedroom.

You followed these rules for the most part, too frightened to go against her will. She ensured to serve you a daily reminder her kindness had limits, and they wouldn’t be taken lightly.

Yet it was currently so late, boredom seeping through every fiber of your being, enough to beguile you further than usual. Ellie wasn’t home on time, the front door firmly shut, no sound of keys rattling as she walked in or a huff of relief to finally be home. Every day you developed an anticipation for her arrival because it meant you could leave your confines as long as she was haunting you.

You’d watch her shower, the steam mingling with the warmth of your thoughts. She’d make dinner, then pretend as if you were her willful and loving partner. It was all her fantasy and you were easily swept into it. You began to crave her presence and routine, so watching it break right before your eyes effortlessly got your hands trembling in apprehension.

You walked on the tip of your toes, feathers on your feet as you made your way to the door. Your shaky hand engrossed the doorknob, taking a deep breath of reluctance. You hesitated, all the possible consequences inescapable. The door creaked as it opened, a small gap yet big enough to go through. The lights were mostly off, a dark sense of depth overtaking you. Regret immediately flooded your body yet you already opened the door so you kept on going.

Your bruised form eased its way through the dim hallway, fingers brushing the wall until you found the light switch. As you flipped it, the dark receded, revealing the room’s contours and textures illuminated in warm light. A rush of possibilities flooded your mind—what stuff could you get into now that Ellie wasn’t around to supervise? Mostly guilt roamed your sentimens, but you hadn’t been granted freedom in oh so long.

You first made your way to the living room, wandering around the ample area. The place was silent, a lack of yelling or TV static noises. It started to bore you, unsure of where the remote controller was and therefore finding no purpose in there any longer.

You walked over to the kitchen instead, no sight of a mess. Ellie kept it tidy and straightened. You didn’t wish to ruin it in a million years, and she’d never even notice you were out here. You situated on the counter, cold marble flush against your thigh and forcing your face into a shocked wince. All you did there was stare at the cabinets, rearranging them, still believing Ellie would never notice.

Unbeknownst to you, Ellie was at the front door, just so excited to see her sweet girl. The highlight of her day was getting home to you, playing pretend, and happy couple. It would help her forget all about the day. Yet when she walked in and took off her shoes and coat, something was off. The lights were on. Her first thought wasn’t to blame you, instead worried someone had broken in. She trusted you incredibly, doubting you’d leave the room without approval.

That thought quickly left her mind when she noticed you perched on the counter, not a single care in the world. Her face dropped, eyebrows tensing and hands clenching. She didn’t waste time striding over to you and before you had time to notice, she fisted a large portion of your hair and tugged on it harshly. You squealed, eliciting a scoff from her. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” She didn’t shout, nor whisper. Her voice was neutral and levelheaded yet her tone was firm and angry.

You stumbled off the counter, whimpering at her harsh grip. Your hands scurried to her bicep, trying to get her off but she just held on tighter. “Are you fucking with me?” She continued, pressing your chest against hers and glaring at you. Her eyebrows furrowed, gesturing at you to respond instead of staying silent like a guilty, caught puppy.

Your breathing pattern was uneven, feeling as if a large weight was placed on your chest. A lump developed in your throat, parting your lips into an O shape and simply getting mocked by Ellie. You shook your head, tears welling at your eyes. Ellie groaned in annoyance, firmly tapping your cheek. She was trying to restrain herself from fully smacking you. “I didn’t mean to— Els-“ You mumbled, babbles spilling out your lips and becoming a crying mess. “Didn’t mean to open the door and do whatever you wanted? Seriously?” Her vision narrowed at you. She effortlessly dragged you to the living room, your wobbly figure standing between her spread legs, wrists in her hand.

She hiked up your skirt aggresively, using both hands to tear your panties off. The humiliation heated your body, yet slick pooled at your cunt. It was embarassing, shame visible on your rosy, tear-stained cheeks. She expected ultimate loyalty from you. “Gonna keep making fucking excuses for yourself or get your ass bent over my lap?” You shook your head, a choked out sobed leaving your swollen lips with inaudible rambles. “Sorry— M’so sorry,” She couldn’t help but roll her eyes, pulling your tummy on her lap and splaying your ass out for her.

“Gonna say thank you every time, ‘kay?” Her faux sweet voice had you biting your lip to stop the sobs, nodding your head in compliance. “Thank you because I’m so fucking generous with you,” Her hand came down on your ass, watching it slightly recoil and redden. “Thank you,” You mumbled, voice cracking. “Thank you ‘cause I’m not hurting you right now.” She kept repeating reasons, a second smack on your other cheek. You simultaneously repeated thank you’s.

Your hips rutted against her lap needily after the tenth smack, trying to distract her from the punishment, squirming on her lap to get away. Ellie tuts and shakes her head, holding your hips tightly. “Where are you going?” She spoke, hand caressing the red spots. “Wanted to be a big girl so fucking bad, now you wanna be fucked like if you’re mine?” You huff with tears, stilling your movements while your lip was snugly placed between both lips. Either way, you nodded in agreement.

“Too fucking bad, gonna be treated like a big girl.” She got an intense hold on your nape, pulling you to sit upright on her lap. Your pussy was drooling onto Ellie’s clothed thigh, creating a damp spot. You wiggled around, hand palming at her crotch. “You know what I wanted to do tonight, babydoll?” She whispered, guiding your hips to gently rock against her thigh. You nodded, yet were hardly paying attention to the way her thigh pressed against your cunt. Your mouth was agape and moaning slightly.

“Wanted to share a nice dinner, bathe together, hold you so fucking close,” She began, hand tracing your every dip and curve. You nodded to gesture you were still listening, feeling negligibly apologetic. “Then fuck you to sleep jus’ how you like it, reward you for cooperating since I got you here.” She scoffed at the mere thought of it, shaking her head. You whimpered with your eyebrows knitting together. You wanted that, craved her validation and sweet words. “Now— Now what?” Your voice was shaky and high-pitched.

She gestured with her eyes at where your cunt and her thigh connected, “Gonna keep going till you cum and make a mess on me.” She lifted a brow while thinking. “Maybe let you sleep on the fucking floor so you can learn.” You whimpered, the pace increasing against her thigh. Ellie moved her hands to your thighs, simply wanting to observe. Your cunt was making nasty wet sounds against Ellie’s jeans, hoping it would please her, silently begging her to be nice again.

She hummed in approval, groaning while staring at the spot your pussy connected to her thighs, the way your brows knit together and lips parted with moans spilling out. “Poor baby,” She taunted, licking her lips. Staring at your fucked out expression just made her feel the slightest amount of pity, placing her hand between your legs and rubbing tiny, precise circles on your clit. “Fuck,” You whimpered, eyes now squeezing shut and leaning against Ellie.

“Language, babydoll.” She scolded, kissing down your neck. You were so close, reigning in the privilege of Ellie’s touch. Your hips stuttered, a knot forming in your tummy. She grabs your jaw hardly, “Open your mouth.” You oblige so quickly, mouth parted, tongue lolling out like a bitch in heat. Ellie spit into your mouth, her saliva dripping down your tongue before you swallowed.

Your orgasm crashed against you, hiding your face into Ellie’s neck desperately. She loved when you were broken down for her, knowing this lesson would stick with you. “Dirty fucking girl.” She whispered, holding your head against her neck snugly. Her hands ran over the red marks on your ass from her repetitive spanks. You wince, back arching away from her.

As you came down from your high, emotions colliding with reality, tears begin to spill endlessly. Was she truly mad at you? Would she really make you sleep on the ground? You clung to her as she whispered soft praises into your ears. "Why are you crying?" Ellie wondered, watching you tear your head away from her. Ellie frowned at the pathetic expression you had presented to her.

"I'm so sorry," You mumbled over and over again. “Don’t wanna be on the floor, need you!” Your exclaims were loud and slightly surprising, Elie holding you closer. She was amused by how attached you were. She had imagined it would take longer to turn you so dependent. “Poor babydoll, I’ll take care of you, in bed.” She clarified and you let out a relieved sob, growing fonder and fonder by the moment.

She takes you to the bathroom and makes the bath she was already thinking about. She needed to make you think she was so damn charitable and nice to you so you wouldn't pin the blame on her but rather you. And also, some deep-down affection as she scrutinized the state you were in. She places you in there and soon joins, keeping you skin to skin, rubbing the sore spots and perhaps getting you off once again with her hands this time.

[delilahsturniolo]

ꪆৎ chris fingering you under a blanket . . .

requested by anon!

(fingering, pet names, dirty talk, teasing, kissing.)

the flickering tv light cast elongated, dancing shadows across the room, painting the scene in a hazy, erotic glow. popcorn crumbs, scattered like fallen stars, littered the grey rug. beneath the plush, oversized blanket, you and chris were intertwined, a tangled knot of heat and desire. a half-eaten bag of chips lay abandoned beside his hand, a stark contrast to the simmering inferno of passion between you. the rom-com on the screen was a distant, muted hum, a soundtrack to your clandestine encounter.

your bodies were pressed together, a symphony of heat and friction. chris's fingers, long and calloused, traced the delicate line of your inner thigh, a slow, seductive dance that sent shivers of anticipation through you. each touch was a spark, a whisper, a promise of the fire that threatened to consume you both. "this is ridiculous," you whispered, your breath ghosting over his ear, a tremor of anticipation vibrating in your voice.

chris chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that resonated deep within you, sending waves of desire rippling through your core. "ridiculous? you’re lyin’ to yourself. you know you want it ma…" he purred, his gaze lingering on the curve of your hip, the way the blanket draped around your form, highlighting the exquisite contours of your body. his fingers moved lower, a teasing prelude to the pleasure to come, tracing the sensitive skin just above your panties.

"we can’t..nick and matt are home." you whispered, your voice thick with arousal. your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the quiet hum of the room. the rustle of the hallway, the distant murmur from the living room, faded into the background, becoming mere echoes in the vast symphony of your desire.

"and? is that supposed to stop us?" he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. his fingers slipped beneath the fabric, finding the soft, pulsing heat of your flesh. a gasp, barely audible, escaped your lips. "oh, chris..." you breathed, your voice barely a whisper. he leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear. "shhh," he murmured, his voice a low growl, his fingers tightening around your clit.

he pressed a kiss to your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, a prelude to the intensity to follow. the pressure intensified, his fingers working with a practiced ease, knowing exactly where to touch, how hard to press, how to coax you further into the precipice of pleasure. a low groan escaped your lips, a sound that felt like a forbidden secret.

he whispered dirty talk, his voice a low rumble against your skin, each word a lash, each touch a torment that only heightened your pleasure. "you're practically begging for it, and i'm going to give you everything you want, one agonizing finger at a time." his fingers danced, exploring and teasing, teasing and exploring. each touch was a spark, igniting the fire within you.

you moaned again, this time a little too loudly. chris's fingers tightened, the pressure increasing dramatically. "shhh shh.." he hissed, his breath hot on your neck. he moved faster, his fingers swirling around your clit quickly, a dance of teasing and pressure. each touch was a spark, igniting the fire within you. he leaned in, kissing your neck and shoulder, his lips a warm, wet counterpoint to the intensity of his fingers.

with one hand, he covered your mouth, his lips pressing against yours to silence your pleas. his other hand didn't falter, it moved with a feverish intensity, driving you closer and closer to release. the world exploded into a rush of pure sensation. the movie faded into the background, replaced by the sound of your moans and the rhythmic thrumming of your heart.

a wave of heat washed over you, your body arching against him, the pressure intensifying, building, building, until the world exploded into a rush of pure sensation. a guttural moan, a sound that vibrated through your entire being, escaped your lips, a sound so loud it echoed through the quiet room. chris's fingers tightened, driving you further into the precipice of release, the rhythmic pressure a symphony of torment and delight. “fuck baby, gotta be quiet..” chris groaned at the feeling of your cum on his fingers as he leaned in, his lips finding their way to your mouth, covering it with a soft, insistent kiss.

his fingers continued their relentless movements, each stroke a surge of electricity coursing through you. the sound of your moans grew louder, a symphony of pleasure and pain, a primal scream that threatened to shatter the fragile quiet of the room. he pressed a hand over your mouth, silencing the cries of ecstasy, his fingers still moving with an urgent rhythm against your core. your body shuddered, a final release echoing through the room, a crescendo of pleasure. you clung to chris, clinging to the intimacy of the moment as your head fell against his shoulder, your eyes focused on the movie again.

© delilahsturniolo do not copy, re use, or modify any of my works.

taglist

[jenosbliss]

pls write a smut where haechan looks extra pretty before performing and his makeup artist can’t help but want to fuck him before he goes on stage

pairing. afab!reader x idol!haechan | genre. smut | wc. 1k | mdni!

warnings. hard!dom haechan, unprotected sex (don’t try in real life), slight hair pulling and spanking, mirror, creampie? calls the reader princess but also a slut

a/n: it took me 3 weeks to write this as i had a lot of uni work. Please please pardon me this time if it’s not well written.

Maybe it was the blush that made his cheeks look impossibly soft and warm, or the tiny stickers under his eyes that added a playful touch to his sharp features. Maybe it was the way his dark hair fell perfectly in front of his eyes, or how his lips—full, red, and devastatingly distracting—seemed to curve into the kind of smirk that could undo you in seconds. Whatever it was, something about Haechan today had you undone.

You told yourself it was just your work. You’d perfected the art of making him look his best, every contour and color carefully applied, every detail deliberate. But today was different. Today, his presence alone made it impossible to stay steady, his every glance and smirk making your hands falter and your professional demeanor unravel. It was the way his eyes locked onto yours like he could see right through the flimsy wall you were trying to build, the way his fingers brushed too casually against your waist when the room was packed, his warmth seeping through the thin barrier of your shirt. It was the way he tilted his head just enough for you to lean in closer, as though daring you to close the space between you.

And you weren’t exactly innocent either. Your fingers lingered too long on his jaw as you blended the last touch of highlighter. Your breath ghosted over his skin when you worked on his eyeliner, your chest brushing against his shoulder in ways you knew weren’t entirely necessary. Then there was the lip tint—your thumb dragging over his bottom lip a fraction slower than you should’ve, your eyes dropping to his mouth, betraying just how much control you were losing.

“Careful,” he murmured when you pulled back, his voice low enough that no one else could hear over the bustle of the staff. His smirk deepened, a flicker of mischief lighting up his gaze. “You keep touching me like that, and I might think you’re trying to make me lose my job.”

Heat flared across your cheeks, but you refused to look at him as you turned away, busying yourself with cleaning up your station. You couldn’t let him get to you, not when the room was still crowded with staff and members. But when you bent down to grab a makeup sponge that had rolled off the counter, his voice came again, soft and teasing.

“Was that for me, or do you just like testing my patience?”

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words—and the low rasp in his tone—sending a rush of adrenaline through your veins, as he looked right through your little game. Without thinking, you straightened and turned, locking eyes with him as you reached out, brushing your thumb over the corner of his mouth. “You smudged your lipstick,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended.

It was a lie. You both knew it.

His gaze lingered on your face for a beat longer than was appropriate, and for the first time, you saw something shift behind his playful exterior. Something darker. Hungrier. Something that made you feel you won in this game.

Moments later when everyone was leaving for the final mic test, he straightened in his chair, stretching his arms with a casualness that didn’t fool you for a second. “Think I need a touch-up,” he said suddenly, loud enough for the rest of the room to hear as the members emptied out the room. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

Before you could process what was happening, he was already locking the door behind you, his smirk gone, replaced by something far more dangerous.

If you thought you won the game, you were wrong because in no time Haechan had you bent over the same vanity. Your shorts and underwear were pooled around your ankles and fingers gripping the edges of the wooden table tightly as he pounded into you from behind.

He had one of his hands wrapped around your throat putting just enough pressure on your veins which made you lightheaded while he delivered hard thrusts from behind pushing you more into the table. “Had fun teasing me princess?” He whispered, his breath hot against your ear as he bit down on the sensitive skin of your neck before sucking harshly.

You let out a low whimper, eyes rolling back to your head as he hit that spot again and again. If the pleasure of him moving inside in that brutal way was not enough to send you into an overdrive, the moment his free hand slid down to press against your clit did break you apart. “Fucking princess can’t go a minute without my dick shoved in her little pussy?”

He moved his hand from your throat to grab your cheeks harshly as he lifted your head to make you look in the mirror in front you, your nose almost brushing against it. “Look at yourself…” he groaned, feeling you tighten around him “...why do i always have to remind you not to behave like a slut at work?”

He thrusted deep with each word making your eyes roll back. “Look at yourself” he whispered, tilting your head up. Your eyes roamed over the smudged mascara and disheveled hair as you met Haechan’s dark ones in the mirror. He leaned down to whisper again “What do brats like you deserve?”

A shiver ran down your spine at his words, you knew what he meant and when he stopped his movements you almost cried out “Please… don’t stop.” He chuckled, running his thumb over your lower lip “Don’t worry Princess. I’ll take my time with you after this concert.”

If you weren’t crying before you did now. He moved relentlessly, holding your hips with both hands in a bruising grip as you fell flat on top of the vanity. The wooden frame shaking beneath you due to the intensity as he moved deeper and deeper.

Your orgasm left you trembling even more as he didn’t stop thrusting in you. “Haechan please” you cried and he yanked you up by a tight grip in your hair “Take it like the slut you are.” He groaned and your whimpers turned into the cries of his name pushing him closer to the edge.

And with one final hard push he came inside you, moaning as he pulled out before spanking your cheeks. “Stay like this. With my cum inside you, don’t you dare clean up.” He said pulling up your panties and shorts and zipping up his own pants.

“You know princess this isn’t over, is it?” you managed to mumble a small no as he ran his fingers through your hair. “So be ready when we get back home… I’m going to ruin you so well tonight.”

masterlist. nct dream | nct 127 | wayv

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[kiwriteswords]

Nights in White Satin [Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader]*

Masterlist|| Ao3||Word Count: 3k|| AN: I got this idea when I was shopping this week and saw lingerie and thought to myself, the reason I am single is because the universe knows I would be broke if I had someone to wear these beautiful pieces for always! Tags/Warnings: female reader, mdni, sexual tension, sexual themes, lingerie, non-bau!reader, no smut but mentions of smut, nudes/sexting, established relationship, mentions of Haley Hotchner, mentions of Hotch and Haley's intimate moments, growing relationship Summary: Lingerie is one of your favorite things--and now it's one of Aaron Hotchner's too.

The evening was calm, the low hum of the city outside barely noticeable through the thick glass of Aaron Hotchner’s apartment. You sat across from him, swirling a glass of red wine, the dim light casting soft shadows across your face. 

Dinner had been delicious, but the air between you was thick with unspoken words and unacted desires.

Hotch had always been the epitome of a gentleman on your dates, his every action measured and respectful, but tonight, there was a charged undercurrent. 

To every glance.  

Every touch.

“You’re quiet tonight,” you remarked, your tone playful yet edged with impatience. “Are you always this contemplative after dinner?”

Hotch looked up from his own glass, his gaze steady. “I’m just enjoying the evening,” he replied smoothly, though his eyes betrayed a hint of his own growing tension. 

He was always in control, always the composed FBI agent, but with you. 

It was different. 

He felt different.

You leaned forward, placing your glass on the coffee table, your voice lowering. “I think you’re just stalling, Aaron. It’s not like you don’t know what I want,” you said, your words a dare as you held his gaze.

Hotch’s breath caught slightly, the air between you thickening. “I might need you to clarify,” he responded, the corner of his mouth twitching in a half-smile, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

Standing up, you walked over to him with deliberate slowness. Hotch watched you, his eyes darkening, his composure cracking ever so slightly as you stopped just inches away. 

“Maybe I’m tired of waiting for you to make a move,” you whispered, reaching up to gently touch the knot of his tie. “Maybe I want to see what’s behind that FBI badge and all that control.”

Hotch’s hands came up to your hips, his touch firm, his resolve crumbling. “Is that so?” he asked, his voice husky. He stood, effectively closing the distance between your bodies, his height forcing you to tilt your head back to meet his eyes. “You might be playing with fire,” he warned, though the heat in his voice made it clear he was nowhere near stepping back.

“I like fire,” you teased, standing on your toes to brush your lips against his jawline, feeling his sharp intake of breath. “I think you do, too.”

That was all it took. With a growl, Hotch’s restraint snapped. He captured your lips with his, the kiss deep and consuming, leaving you breathless as he walked you back against the nearest wall. The world narrowed down to the feel of his body against yours, the taste of him, the overwhelming intensity of the moment.

When he finally pulled back slightly, his breaths were as labored as yours. He looked at you, really looked at you, as if seeing you for the first time. “You have no idea,” he murmured, his hands moving to the hem of your dress, lifting it slowly, reverently.

As the fabric pooled at your feet, you stood before him in delicate, intricately designed lingerie, the sight rendering him utterly speechless. The soft lighting highlighted the contours of your body, the lace and silk a stark contrast to your smooth skin, leaving little to the imagination but enough to drive him wild.

Hotch swallowed hard, his eyes raking over you. “You’re...” He struggled for words, his usual eloquence lost in the rush of desire. “Incredible.”

You smiled, stepping closer, pressing your body against his. “I wore it for you,” you admitted, your voice soft, your fingers tracing the lapels of his shirt. “I wanted to see that look on your face.”

“The one where I’m completely at your mercy?” Hotch managed to say, his hands sliding around to caress the small of your back, pulling you even closer.

“Exactly,” you whispered, reaching up to kiss him again, slow and deep, fully savoring the moment. The tension, the anticipation--it all built into a crescendo that felt inevitable, yet thrilling in its execution.

As Hotch’s hands explored the soft lace, his touch gentle yet filled with a desire that mirrored your own, the world outside faded away. It was just you and him, the burning need, and the night that was only just beginning.

Lingerie was not something Aaron Hotchner admittedly had much experience with. Sure, a special occasion. 

Here or there. 

An anniversary. 

Haley may have worn one piece a total of five times throughout their marriage. He couldn’t argue with her on the frivolous nature of it. Paying all of that money for expensive lace, to say on for what? 

Five minutes? 

He thought back to a conversation Haley and Jess had one day that he couldn’t help but overhear. Talking about how uncomfortable it was to wear and not understanding its point. 

How impractical.

Again…he couldn’t argue. 

But he should have known by now you were nothing like anyone he’d ever met before. 

You found ways to bring elaborate things into every point of your life. He knew you did it so often for yourself. He was glad to spoil you as well. 

Whereas tonight, a dinner and a play at the theater seemed like the perfect date.

The theater lights had dimmed hours ago, but the performance that played out between you and Hotch continued well into the night. 

The evening had been a cultured affair, a play downtown that left you both discussing themes and character motivations all the way back to his apartment. 

The intellectual exchange was as stimulating as the attraction that simmered below the surface, a perfect blend of mind and body that defined your growing relationship.

As Hotch unlocked his apartment door, he turned to you with a smile that reached his eyes, a look of genuine contentment. 

“I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed a play that much,” he confessed as he ushered you inside.

“You seemed really into it,” you replied, slipping off your coat and draping it over his arm. The cool air of the apartment made you shiver slightly, and not entirely from the temperature. “It was a beautiful story.”

“It was,” he agreed, hanging your coats and turning back to you. “But I have to admit, I’m looking forward to the rest of the evening just as much.” His voice was low, his gaze holding yours with an intensity that promised much more than just conversation.

You smiled, the kind of smile that was laced with anticipation. “Me too.” Stepping closer, you reached for his hands, drawing him towards you. “In fact, I think the night is just getting started.”

Hotch’s response was a gentle tug, pulling you into his embrace, his lips finding yours with practiced familiarity. The kiss deepened, fueled by the shared excitement of the evening and the undeniable connection between you. 

It wasn’t long before you both began shedding layers, the need to be closer overriding any patience left.

When Hotch’s hands expertly unzipped your dress, letting it fall to the floor. 

He paused. 

His breath catching.

 You stood there in another set of stunning lingerie. 

Different from the last time but equally breathtaking. 

The fabric hugged your curves perfectly, a combination of sheer mesh and lace that played a tantalizing game of reveal and conceal.

“I--” Hotch started, his eyes wide as they roamed over you. “I thought the last time was special...for our first time.”

You stepped closer, a playful yet seductive smirk curving your lips. “Every time with you is special, Aaron,” you murmured, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw with your fingertips. “And I like feeling beautiful...for you.”

Hotch visibly swallowed, his hands hovering before finally settling on your hips. “You are beautiful,” he corrected softly, his voice thick with emotion. “Incredibly so. And not just because of what you wear.”

“But it does help?” you teased, leaning in to whisper against his lips.

“It...definitely does not hurt,” Hotch admitted, the seriousness of his voice melting into a growl of desire. 

He captured your lips again, his kiss conveying all the words he couldn’t seem to find. His hands roamed over the lace, appreciating the texture and the way it made him feel--overwhelmed and completely captivated by you.

Captivated by you for sure. 

In every aspect of his life. 

Even at work, where he never allowed himself to be distracted. 

He found his mind wandering, especially when his phone sent a text. 

No. 

It was more than a text…it was a text. 

Of the not-safe-for-work kind. 

The team was in the midst of a challenging case, and the long hours and distance from you made the days feel even longer. 

As the team pored over case files in a small conference room of the local police station, his phone buzzed quietly in his pocket. Excusing himself with a gesture to Rossi, he stepped outside into the cool evening air, flipping open his phone to see a message from you.

The first photo popped onto his screen, and his breath hitched. 

There you were. 

In the softly lit dressing room of a boutique, wearing a stunning lingerie set that left little to the imagination.

The delicate lace hugged your figure perfectly, a playful bow placed strategically that hinted at both innocence and invitation. You were looking over your shoulder, the mirror capturing the mischievous sparkle in your eyes. 

The caption read, “Thinking of you...what do you think?”

Before he could even process the first image, another message came through. This time, you were in a different set, this one bolder, the color a deep, seductive red that contrasted strikingly against your skin. 

The design was more daring, with cut-outs that teased. 

Tantalized. 

The caption teased, “Or is this more...arresting?”

Hotch found himself leaning against the wall, his mind momentarily transported away from the grim details of the case. 

He typed a quick response, his fingers surprisingly steady despite the turmoil you’d stirred within him. “You’re making it very hard to focus on work.”

Almost instantly, you replied, a flurry of laughing emojis followed by a more serious, “I want you to have something to look forward to when you get back. Which one should I be waiting in?”

Each message from you was like a lifeline, pulling him out of the darkness of his work and reminding him of the light waiting for him at home. Hotch stared at the photos again, each set pulling at a different part of him. The lace was elegant and soft, much like the moments you shared over quiet dinners. The red was passionate and bold, reminiscent of the deep conversations and laughter that filled your evenings.

With a slight smile tugging at his lips, he replied, “Both. But start with the red. It’s...compelling.”

The lingerie continued to compel Hotch throughout your courtship--nights at your apartment or nights at his. 

No matter how tired. How long the day had been. There was lingerie always waiting for him under your clothes. 

Lace, silk…one time even leather. Cotton, tulle. You name the fabric--he had seen it. 

He was sure it would get old. By the time you two were serious enough to move in together, the domesticity would wear off that honeymoon phase. 

Hotch had assumed that once the novelty of early dating faded, especially after you moved in together, the lingerie would appear less frequently, replaced perhaps by the more common comfort of pajamas or a simple T-shirt. 

And then again-- 

You proved him wrong. 

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

Each night, you surprised him. One evening, it might be a silk nighty that whispered against your skin as you moved around your shared bedroom, the dim light catching the soft sheen of the fabric.

Another night, it was a lace teddy, its intricate patterns playing a game of reveal and conceal that never failed to capture his attention.

Sometimes it was a sleek slip that hugged your curves gently, or a bustier that made his heart beat a little faster whenever he caught a glimpse of you. 

And then there were the nights you chose hosiery, the delicate fabric of the stockings hinting at the elegance and sophistication you carried so effortlessly.

He watched you one evening as you prepared for bed, your routine mesmerizing him. “Don’t you find it uncomfortable?” Hotch finally asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. 

The question had been on his mind for a while, wondering if the delicate lace and tight clasps were a burden you bore for the sake of allure.

You turned to face him, a smile playing on your lips as you stepped closer. “Uncomfortable?” you echoed, your voice tinged with amusement. “Not at all. I love it, actually. It makes me feel beautiful, confident...” Your hands trailed down the silk of your nighty as you spoke. “And I know you like it too.”

Hotch couldn’t deny that. “I do,” he admitted, his voice low, his eyes tracing your figure as you moved even closer. “It’s just...I want you to be comfortable. You don’t need to wear these for me, not every night.”

“But I wear them for me, too,” you explained, reaching up to trace his jaw gently. “It’s like...my little way of cherishing myself. It feels good to wear something that makes me feel good about myself. And sharing that with you, seeing your reaction--it’s just an added bonus.”

Hotch’s eyes softened, understanding dawning on him. It wasn’t just about seduction. It was about self-expression, about feeling good in your own skin and reveling in the femininity that the delicate fabrics highlighted. “I love that you feel beautiful in them,” he said sincerely, pulling you into an embrace. “And you’re right, I do enjoy the view.”

The nights rolled on, each evening a new revelation of fabric and lace. Hotch came to see your choice of nightwear not as a mere attempt to impress him but as a deeper expression of your personality and comfort. 

It was another layer to your intimacy, a silent conversation about desires and self-perception.

And so, night after night, you crawled into bed beside him, the silken threads of your lingerie mingling with the steady warmth of his presence. 

It was a routine he grew to cherish deeply, a nightly reminder of the complexity and beauty of the person he loved.

Even away, his mind went to you. 

The case had been grueling, the days long and fraught with tension. The team had wrapped everything up, and with a few hours left before they needed to head to the airport, everyone decided to grab an early dinner at a local restaurant. But Hotch, his mind still partly on the case and partly on you, excused himself from the meal. He needed to clear his head, and a short walk through the quiet streets of the small town seemed like the perfect solution.

As he walked, his thoughts inevitably drifted to you. He missed the comfort of home, the warmth of your smile, the soft sound of your laughter filling the spaces of his usually quiet apartment. It was on these walks that he felt the distance the most acutely, the absence of your presence like a tangible weight.

That’s when he saw it--a quaint boutique lingerie store tucked between a bookstore and a café. The display window was elegant, subtle yet enticing, and something about it reminded him immediately of you. On impulse, Hotch pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The store was small, intimate, the air filled with a soft scent of jasmine and lavender. Rows of delicate lingerie hung on sleek fixtures, silk and lace in a myriad of colors and styles. The attendant gave him a polite nod, her expression turning curious as she took in his somewhat awkward stance.

Hotch walked past the racks, his fingers brushing against the fabrics. 

Each texture sparking an image of you. 

He could almost see you trying each one, turning to show him your smile bright and eyes gleaming with delight. 

Then, his eyes settled on a particular set displayed on a mannequin--

An exquisite ensemble of deep midnight blue silk accented with delicate silver lace. It was both elegant and enticing, with a sophistication that matched your own.

Without a second thought, Hotch approached the attendant, asking for the set in your size.

As the items were wrapped in a beautifully crafted box tied with a soft velvet ribbon, the reality of his purchase began to sink in. 

This was more than just a gift; it was a silent message, a whisper of his thoughts and desires sent across the distance that separated you.

With the package in hand, he left the boutique, his step lighter, a small smile playing on his lips. 

The thought of presenting the gift to you. 

Of seeing your reaction. 

It made his heart skip a beat in anticipation. 

He imagined the moment vividly--

The surprise in your eyes, the tender touch as you examined the fabric, the soft kiss of gratitude.

As he rejoined the team, their questioning looks at the elegant bag he carried went mostly ignored. 

Maybe an eyebrow raise from Rossi--but that he could handle. 

Hotch was already far away, lost in thoughts of home, of you, and the evening he planned to spend wrapped in the warmth of your embrace. The wait until he could see you, share with you the beauty he’d found in that tiny boutique, seemed suddenly unbearable. 

The jet's hum had long since faded as Hotch made his way home, the elegant bag containing the lingerie set swinging slightly at his side. 

His anticipation had built up during the drive--

Each red light a moment longer he had to wait to see you, to give you the gift he'd chosen so thoughtfully. 

As he turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door to the apartment, the familiar sense of home washed over him, amplified by the sound of your voice calling out a greeting from somewhere inside.

"I'm in the bedroom!" Your voice floated down the hallway, a note of excitement in your tone that made his heart race even faster.

Hotch found you sitting on the edge of the bed, an expectant smile on your face. "Welcome home," you said, standing to give him a quick, eager kiss. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," Hotch replied, his voice soft and affectionate. He held up the bag slightly, a teasing glint in his eye. "I brought you something."

Your eyes widened in surprise as you took the bag from him, squealing, your fingers brushing against his as you pulled the ribbon to open it. 

As the lid lifted and you saw the contents, a gasp escaped your lips. "Aaron, this is beautiful," you breathed, carefully lifting the midnight blue silk and silver lace lingerie from the box.

"I saw it and thought of you," Hotch admitted, watching your reaction closely. "I hoped you might like it."

"Like it? I love it," you affirmed, your eyes lifting to meet his. There was a moment of silent communication, a shared spark of excitement before you bit your lip playfully. "Let me try it on for you."

As you disappeared into the bathroom--

Practically skipping. 

Hotch sat down on the bed, the anticipation building anew. He heard the faint rustle of fabric, his imagination painting vivid pictures of you slipping into the lingerie. When you stepped back into the bedroom, the sight took his breath away.

The deep blue of the silk accentuated the soft curves of your body, and the silver lace added a touch of elegance that made you look both ethereal and enticing. 

You did a slow turn, allowing him to take in every detail, the fabric hugging your form in all the right places.

Hotch was utterly captivated. 

His breath caught in his throat as you emerged in the midnight blue and silver lace ensemble. 

The sight of you, so confidently adorned in silk that clung to every curve, momentarily robbed him of the ability to speak. 

His heart thundered in his chest--

A visceral reaction to the sheer beauty before him. 

The soft lighting of the bedroom cast a glow around you, accentuating the delicate details of the lace and the smoothness of the silk, as if you were stepping out from a dream into reality.

"You look stunning," Hotch finally managed to say, his voice thick with a cocktail of awe and desire. 

How did he get so lucky? He thought.

His eyes, usually so steady and composed, flitted over you with an intensity that made your skin tingle with anticipation. The depth of his gaze spoke volumes, reflecting a mixture of profound admiration and raw, unguarded yearning.

Seeing his reaction, your smile widened, a surge of confidence flooding through you. 

You knew the power these moments held, the silent exchange of emotions that passed between you. 

Walking over to where he sat, each step was measured and sure, your body swaying subtly, each movement designed to remind him of the evenings filled with soft whispers and laughter, now progressing into something more tangible, more intimate.

Standing between his legs, you reached down, gently lifting his chin to make him look directly at you.

"Do you really like it?" you asked, your voice low and teasing, hinting at the playful challenge you posed. His eyes, dark with desire, never wavered from yours, the usual stoicism washed away by a wave of passion.

"It's perfect," Hotch confirmed, his voice a soft growl that vibrated with emotion. His hands moved of their own accord, reaching up to trace the intricate lines of the lace at your hip, his fingers lightly grazing your skin beneath. 

The simple touch sparked a heat that flickered dangerously close to igniting something unstoppable within him.

Encouraged by his touch, you leaned in closer, the fabric of your lingerie brushing against him, a whisper of silk that promised more. 

Your lips hovered just above his, the heat of your breath mingling. "I think it deserves a proper thank you, don't you?" you murmured, the words barely audible, laden with an invitation.

Hotch’s response was immediate and decisive. His arms pulling you into him, reducing the space to nothing. 

His kiss was deep. 

Passionate.

A clear display of his feelings that needed no words, only the urgent press of lips and the intertwining of breath. 

His hands, strong yet gentle, roamed over the silk and lace, exploring every contour, every line that defined the form he adored. 

As you deepened the kiss, responding to his fervor, the world around you faded into a blur of sensations--

The softness of the lingerie against your skin, the firmness of his hands guiding you closer, the taste of him that was both familiar and endlessly intoxicating. 

Hotch was completely overwhelmed, each sensation amplified by the sight of you in the moonlight, the feel of you in his arms, and the undeniable love that tied it all together.

Tonight, like every night with you, was a reminder of the incredible intimacy and fortune he had in loving you and being loved so completely in return.

He was certain he was the luckiest man alive. 

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016  @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns @alexxavicry

[rhyrhy]

more Ellie Abby hc’s PLEASE

Masc’s and Mascara

⋆. ࣪𖤐.ᐟ Warnings: none, fluff, established relationships! My two favorite M’s. Based on this

♡ A/n : doing Ellie/abby/vi’s makeup (yum) | dividers by fairytopea

Costume party—Gf! Vi

“Ugh. Sorry—hold on, let me just…” you sighed deeply.

This would’ve been the third time you redid her eyeliner. The ink simply refused to work with you. You’d been moving around each other in the shared bathroom, getting ready when you took the lead on doing her vampire makeup for her. Duo costumes were a must. You were going as Princess Bubblegum, and Vi was stamped on being Marceline. Her Powder blue eyes watched your face twist in frustration. She could have done it herself but had always been a stickler for physical touch. She wanted it to be dark, moody, and dramatic enough to suit her.

As the makeup wipe brushed her skin again, she unfolded her arms and held her hand out. You gave her the liquid eyeliner pen.

“Here, let me.” Her reddish-pink hair swayed as she tilted her body toward the mirror on her left.

Wrapping your arms around her waist, you watched her in the mirror. She closed one eye, swiping the liner effortlessly. And before you could sulk, she turned back to you with a small smile.

“See? Teamwork.” She kissed the top of your head, laying the pen down.

“Didn’t know my girlfriend was a MUA. But I still get to do the rest,” you said, pulling back. Standing between her thighs, you reached back into your makeup bag. The conversation continued as she listed off who all was coming out tonight but halted when you pulled out tweezers to clean up her eyebrows. Her head leaned back, away from your hands.

“What? These bad boys are perfect,” she said, holding a hand up. Then she pointed. “Put those down.”

“Vi,” you protested.

“No way.” She waved her hand.

“Violet, just let me—” you whined, laughing at her reluctance.

“Nope,” she finalized as she lowered your hand gently.

Makeup trend— Gf! Ellie

“Shh, stop. If you laugh, I will.” You scolded, tilting her straight on her pillow once more.

Ellie was already giggling when you showed her the trend. Though she didn’t wear any herself, having had previous girlfriends, she was aware of the basics. occasionally letting you put brown mascara on her to complement her emerald irises. Black eyeshadow on a small brush, you carefully drew out the lines on her cheeks.

“Okay, okay,” she huffed, her thumbs gently stroking the skin under the hem of your shirt, steadily holding your hips as you sat on her lap. She kept her head still for you. The light tickle of the brush strokes had her biting back more laughs. Scanning over her room, then back to your focused face—one she always found cute. But she knew what face she enjoyed even more… a smile.

You tilted your head, carefully outlining the black once more, making sure it didn’t bleed onto the faded orange on the contours of her face.

She was letting you work in peace until—

“Rawr!” she growled, wiggling her fingers into your sides as she tickled you in the spots she knew too well.

“Els! Stop it!” you yelped, jerking away as she cackled.

You narrowed your eyes at her through your laughter, pointing at the smudged makeup. “See? now I have to redo it.”

Ellie smiled and shrugged unapologetically. “Oh no, whatever will you do?”

“You’re so annoying.” You chuckled, putting your face in your hands.

“Mhm, and you love me.” She wiggled her brown brows before grabbing the brush from your hands. “Alright, now it’s my turn. Let me mess up your face.”

Curiosity — Gf! Abby

Her strong arms relaxed, draping over the back of your plush vanity chair. Leaning forward, she brought her head closer to yours, following your movements in the mirror as you worked on your makeup.

“Okay, just tell me what it is first,” she said as you held up a product, a small smile on your lips.

“Highlighter.” You pointed to your small Revlon palette of glittery tones.

“Why would anyone want to put that on their face?” She raised a brow, glancing to the lettering.

You sighed. “To look glowy, Abby. A little shine.” You did jazz hands for emphasis. She laughed at your dramatics but let you continue. It started with you just putting some clear mascara on her, telling her she’d barely notice the difference. But then, you managed to convince her to let you go a little further. She laughed the entire time, shaking her head as you carefully blended out the concealer you’d sneakily applied. One leg rested on hers as she sat in the chair with you, pressed together comfortably. You happily swiped highlighter on her brow bone.

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered. Of course, she didn’t pull away. leaning into your hands instead.

“You’re ridiculous,” you teased back.

She gave you a look. “You’re literally putting stuff on my face right now.”

“And you’re letting me,” you shot back at her. Abby rolled her eyes, but she didn’t stop you. “Now shh,” you soothed, knowing she loved when you pampered her despite her fake protests.

A content sigh, her eyes fluttering shut as you continued.

[dollfacefantasy]

DARK SIDE OF THE MOON ♡

pairing: redk!clark kent x fem!reader x soulless!sam winchester

summary: your boyfriend sam has been acting strange lately. good thing your other boyfriend clark is willing to help you figure out what's going on with him. unfortunately for you, he doesn't get very far before he starts acting weird too.

cw: nsfw (18+), au, smut, mild dubcon, threesome, p in v, oral (f & m receiving), fingering, facefucking, overstimulation, praise/degradation, hints of asphyxiation kink

a/n: comm for my wife @fearcvlt. thank you to the anon who infected us with the sam-clark disease 🙏 also i know sam doesn't lose his soul till season 6 but it's my fic so this is early seasons sam. don't like it kiss me about it.

Sam has been acting weird lately.

You’re not sure what it is. You can’t pinpoint an exact detail about him that’s shifted. From the surface, he looks the same. He still dresses the same. His voice sounds the same. His hands and mouth feel the same. It drives you crazy, not being able to narrow down what you mean. What you know has changed. 

Because while the alterations are imperceptible, you know they’re real. All of that stuff hasn’t changed on a technical level, but to you, his girlfriend, someone who knows his very being like the palm of your own hand, it’s not the same.

Physically, he’s your Sam. The one you’ve been with since your second semester of college. His dark brown hair hangs too close to his eyes like always. The warmth in his hands radiates with regularity as they coast across your and Clark’s bodies. His words reach your ears in the soft, calculated manner you’ve come to expect from him.

But you swear on everything you have in this world, on both your lovers’ lives, that all of this comes with a new note of unfamiliarity.

While his appearance hasn’t changed, the way his eyes land upon your face has. His gaze feels cold. It nearly stings when it connects with your own. You may recognize his touch, but he’s rougher now. He doesn’t handle you like a cherished doll, nor does he explore Clark with his usual reverence. Instead he tugs and he grabs. His fingers dig into flesh harder than ever before. Scratches and bruises litter the two of you after a night spent together. And while his voice rings out just like it did when you met him in your first criminal justice class all those years ago, the tender embellishments in his sentences have vanished. Vacant silences lie where sweetheart and honey used to appear. 

You sound like a lunatic describing it.

“Can’t you just talk to him?” you plead with Clark for the third time this week. You attempt persuasion by flaunting your puppy eyes at him, but he just shakes his head.

He stands before the full length mirror in the corner of your bedroom while pulling on his shirt. The hazy morning light shines through the nearby window onto his physique, highlighting the contours of muscle decorating his abdomen before they’re covered up by the scarlet sweater he chooses to wear today.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, baby,” he responds, gazing at you through the reflection.

You boost yourself off your mattress where you’d been sprawled out. Approaching him from behind, you snake your arms around his waist and press your cheek to his firm back. He doesn’t have to face you to know the pout that’s taken residence on your lips.

“Well, I can’t think of everything,” you huff, “Just maybe see if something’s wrong. Like maybe we did something and we don’t know-”

“You’re overthinking,” he cuts in while fastening his belt into place.

“You don’t know that because you’ve never actually asked. Maybe he feels like he can’t tell us what’s bothering him for some reason. Or it could be like a guy thing. He blows me off whenever I try to help, so maybe he’ll be more comfortable with just you,” you insist.

He sighs and shakes his head again, reaching for the brush nearby. Clark’s hair rarely ever falls out of place. The only moments you can recall seeing him disheveled are those when he lays in bed with you and Sam, nude body coated in a light sweat and pressed against each of yours. Yet he tends to his black tresses more often than you take care of your own hair.

“It’s not a guy thing,” he chuckles, “He just doesn’t wanna talk about whatever’s going on in his head. You know how he gets sometimes. I’m sure he’ll bounce back soon.”

“But it’s been like over a month. Ever since he went on that trip with his brother, he’s been weird,” you continue, squeezing him as if that would somehow convince him of your point.

“You know his childhood is a sore spot. Maybe being around him brought up some bad memories,” he offers and shrugs.

“But he would have told us about that,” you refute.

You release Clark from your hold as he turns around, his outfit all ready for the day. As you look up at him, your eyes remain full of concern for the absent part of your trio. Your present boyfriend smirks at the worried expression before cupping your cheeks and planting a soft kiss on your lips.

“It’s gonna be ok, babe. He’ll be ok,” he murmurs.

You nod. “Just if you get the chance… please talk to him,” you try once more.

“I will,” he agrees. His hands fall to your waist where they knead the flesh lightly.��Try not to worry too much today, alright? We got that party tonight. You’re gonna look all pretty, we’re gonna have fun, and everything’s gonna be fine.”

He kisses you once more before walking towards the bedroom door. You nod in response to his words and force your shoulders to relax. The mention of his work party you were all going to attend later helps a little to distract you. At the very least it gives you something else to think about for the time being.

Before he heads out, you blow him a kiss like you always do. He pretends to catch it, flashing those fangs of his in a lazy grin.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he says before finally leaving your view.

Despite your assurance to Clark, you spend much of the day thinking about Sam and possible causes for his perpetually sour mood. Unfortunately, you can’t think of anything that seems like a realistic possibility.

While your anxiety wants you to blame yourself, you really don’t believe something you did is responsible. And he had gone on that trip with his brother a month ago, but they’d been going on their ‘hunting trips’ pretty regularly for the last two years. He never got like this afterwards. Even when his brother annoyed him, he’d just vent about it to the two of you before letting it go.

You try to reason that law school might be getting more stressful. All of his free time not allocated to you and Clark, or to his brother in the Impala, goes to textbooks. He spends hours poring over notes and articles and journals. Maybe that’s it. You try to convince yourself it could be. At least until he and Clark come home for the night with hopefully a more concrete answer.

As the day shifts into evening, you busy yourself with getting ready for the party tonight. It wasn’t anything too fancy. Just some gathering the paper Clark now worked at was throwing. As a new hire, he was one of the employees being celebrated, warranting your and Sam’s invitations.

It’s around six-thirty when you finally hear the front door open. Two pairs of shoes shuffle in. Good. That means Clark met him on campus or Sam drove over to Clark's job after his last class. There would be plenty of time to talk over the course of the distance between your shared house and either of those locations.

You put your earrings back down on the dresser and approach the door, straining your ears in hopes of scoping out any tense silences or relieved chatter. In the kitchen, you can hear the fridge open and then close. A sigh. You narrow your eyes. Was it a sigh of tiredness from work or frustration at the other man? The words that follow answer your question.

“She’s just worried about you,” Clark says. You bite your lip, sensing this may not be going well.

“Yeah, I know. She doesn’t do a great job of disguising that,” Sam responds.

“Then just talk to her. It’s only still a problem because you’re being cagey.”

“I’m being cagey because there’s nothing to talk about. She’s looking for something that isn’t there, insisting-”

You step through the doorway and head towards the sound of their voices. Barefoot and with the zipper on your dress only halfway pulled, you enter the room to join them. Sam finishes his sentence as both his and Clark’s eyes set on you.

“Hi,” you interrupt weakly.

The taller of the two rolls his eyes while your other boyfriend raises his brows in acknowledgement before taking another sip of his drink.

“I just… heard you both talking and thought I should come in here…” you continue. It’s only been a few seconds, but already, it’s starting to feel like you should have waited for them to come to you.

You walk a couple more paces into the space, finding yourself standing equidistant from both your lovers. Your gaze alternates between them before focusing on Sam.

“I know I’m probably worrying over nothing. And I know you said nothing is wrong,” you say, keeping your tone as neutral as you can, “You just seem different. And maybe nothing is actively wrong, but I just want you to know if something happened or like if you’re thinking about something differently that me and Clark-”

“You’ll what? What will you both do?” he asks, “I don’t know what you want from me. Do you want me to make up some problem that doesn’t exist so you can feel accomplished when you fix it?”

“No,” you answer right away, hurt infecting your features.

“Then what?”

“I don’t know…” you say. Your resolve wilts away with each second his harsh eyes stare at you.

“Just stop then. Stop asking me to give you a reason, stop talking about me behind my back, just stop,” he rants, “Did you ever consider you might be projecting? That maybe something is different with you that you don’t want to accept.”

“What?” you ask. Your pained expression infuses with a bout of confusion.

“Think about it. Me and Clark, we know what we’re doing everyday. I’m going to school, he’s going to work. We have our plans in place. You? What are you doing? Ever since you graduated last year, you’ve been floundering, bouncing from idea to idea. Maybe you’re the one who’s fallen off the tracks, but you can’t admit it,” he accuses.

Your eyes widen. That statement cuts you deep, through multiple layers. It is the truth in a sense, but to have it thrown in your face by someone who supposedly cares about you hurts worse than you would have anticipated.

“That’s not true,” you deny.

“Yes it is, and you know it. You wanna blame me for how you’re feeling. You’re losing control of your own life so you want to find something you can fix,” he continues.

“Sam, stop,” Clark interjects on your behalf.

You just stand there, feeling even more lost than you had earlier. He was acting different. You were sure of it. But now you also feel like he maybe has a point. What if he is acting the exact same, and you’re the one losing your grip? Clark hasn’t been as concerned as you, and maybe that’s for a reason.

“What?” Sam says, his eyes flitting towards your other boyfriend, “She’s allowed to talk about me, but I can’t defend myself?”

“You’re not defending yourself, you’re attacking her,” Clark responds before sighing. He puts his drink down and walks closer to the both of you. “Both of you just need to take a second and calm down.”

In the pause that follows, the pain Sam’s words caused doesn’t subside. The throb only emanates from deeper inside your chest. You glance up at your darker-haired boyfriend before turning to the one you could barely recognize.

“I’m not trying to make you defend yourself. I really just feel like something’s been up with you lately. But if you say there isn’t, then there isn’t, and I won’t mention it again,” you finally say.

“There isn’t,” he tells you without more than a second of consideration.

Awkward quiet settles for more than a pause now. You’re not sure if you can just act normal after that, but you don’t want to create more tension by hightailing it to the bedroom. Both of them seem to go with the former. Clark meanders his way back to the counter while Sam turns and digs through his bag for something.

You decide it might be best to follow along. Swiveling on your heel, you walk away from the kitchen and down the hall towards your shared bedroom to finish getting ready. The silence no longer feels calm; it weighs down on you, pressing hard enough to crack.

As you dust powder across your cheek bones and eyelids, you force your breaths to remain even. You swallow hard to prevent your eyes from watering. The mascara wand coats your lashes with black that will stream down your skin if you shed any tears. For a final touch, you spread some sticky gloss over your lips, watching in the mirror how they shine with the glittery substance.

When your face is painted to your liking, you pull on a pair of tights under the crimson fabric of your dress and then sit on the edge of your bed to slip on your shoes. While fumbling with the one on your left foot, you hear another person enter the room.

Your pupils dart towards the door to find Clark there with a sheepish smile.

“Hey,” he starts gently, “You almost ready?”

You just nod, not really in a chatty mood.

He returns the gesture and comes closer, approaching as if you’re a wounded animal.

“You look really beautiful, baby,” he compliments.

“Thanks.”

“Here. Let me help,” he offers and crouches before you. 

He takes your leg between his large hands, rubbing up and down over the smoothness of your tights for a moment. His fingers then fall to the sleek strap causing you hassle. He pushes the little piece of material through the metal clasp. Despite the size of his digits, they move with nimble precision.

“He didn’t mean that stuff he said,” he tells you, voice quiet enough that it wouldn’t leave the bedroom.

“Then why didn’t he come in here?” you ask. Your voice quivers a little bit. You know Clark hears it from the way his big, blue eyes lift to connect with your own.

“He’s just being pissy right now. But I know he didn’t mean it, alright? Neither of us think you’re off track, but even if you were, it’s not the end of the world. You still have time to figure things out. We love you either way,” he says, patting your leg. 

Almost as an extra gesture of reassurance, he plants a soft kiss on your kneecap. It’s intended to be innocent. Something wholesome to let you feel the pure love he’s trying to pour into you with his words. But you can’t help but feel a flicker of desire in your belly. The sight of it only serves to remind you of how he does that when he’s spreading your legs apart and kissing up your inner thighs to somewhere much more intimate.

“He’ll come around. For the record, he is acting different. It’s not just you,” he reassures, reaching up to take your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

The look in your eyes has softened from one of hurt to something more tender. You nod in response, and he smiles.

“That’s my girl. Don’t look so sad anymore. I wanna show off how beautiful you are tonight. Can’t do that if you don’t let anyone see that pretty smile,” he praises.

Your face lifts with the expression he describes. It only increases the curve of his own lips. He rewards you with a small peck. When he pulls away, you can see a splotch of lip gloss on his cupid’s bow. It’s tempting to try and wipe it away with another kiss, but instead you take the more effective route and swipe your thumb across the skin.

“Ready?” he asks and reaches for your hand as he rises to his feet again.

You clasp your smaller fingers around his and stand up. “Almost. Zip me up?” you say and turn to show him the semi-closed fabric.

He chuckles fingers finding the zipper and adjusting it for you with ease. “Always.”

You stand with your back pressed against the wall, drink in hand, eyes surveilling the room. It’s only around nine o’clock, but you’re more than ready to go home. You keep a smile on your face for Clark’s sake, not wanting to look miserable around the people he has to see on a daily basis.

The party isn’t even horrible. It’s just fine. The ritzy hotel dining room they rented out is fine. The music playing at a reasonable volume in the background is fine. The food is fine. The drinks are fine. The smalltalk is fine. Fine. Fine. Fine. It’s all fine.

Including you. You’re fine too. Not at all upset about earlier. The car ride here had been dead silent. No apology from Sam. Not even a word of acknowledgement. But that’s ok! You could deal with it.

Once the three of you had arrived and made your way inside, you introduced yourselves like you always did, clear enough to convey that you were all a package deal but vague enough to not draw the ire of less open-minded people. From there, you let Clark tell some stories about the both of you. You made sure to laugh at all his jokes, smile at him with the most adoring eyes, and sing his praises to any person who wanted to hear them.

After a while of that, he turned you both loose. You first grabbed some appetizers and a drink and then landed where you are now. Sam had trailed close behind you even though he still wasn’t saying anything.

He’s beside you against the wall. His shoulder leans against it, his body angled towards yours. You can feel his eyes drifting along your figure, but you don’t give in to the temptation of a response.

“You gonna freeze me out all night?” he asks.

“I don’t know. Do you plan on apologizing at all?” you ask, passive aggression lacing in every word.

He exhales a laugh and reaches for your face. His fingers guide your head, forcing you to look at him.

“Is that what you need, baby?” he mocks, “You need me to say sorry?”

You scowl and try to look away, but his digits dig into your skin. He keeps you right where he wants you. Leaning in close to you, his breath fans across your neck.

“Would it really make you feel better if I said I didn’t mean it? Would it really change anything about how you feel? I don’t think so,” he murmurs, “I think you’d like it more if I kissed it better.”

The low tone of voice combined with his proximity fires up that warmth in your tummy you felt earlier. You try to suppress it and maintain your glare.

“What are you doing?” you ask with annoyance, craning your neck for some space.

“What? I thought you’d wanna make up,” he says.

“I- It’s not that. We’re at a party for Clark’s work. It’s not like we’re high schoolers who can just go find some closet to make out,” you huff, “Plus, you definitely are acting different now. You’re always the explainer, and Clark is always the one who wants to kiss things better.”

That brings a small smirk to his face. “We can’t? Or we shouldn’t?” he teases. He moves in again, the tip of his nose brushing your cheek. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I have been a little different lately. But why is that a bad thing? I feel great.”

“Yeah, but it’s not great when you’re being mean all the time now…”

“Mean? Or direct?” he asks, “I’ve never said anything to hurt you. Even when you think I’m being mean, I’m only speaking without sugar coating because I know you can take it. And I know that sometimes you need to hear it. You’re strong. Just as smart as me and Clark. You just need a little push sometimes.”

Your heart beats quicker in your chest. His words are one thing, but the way his rich eyes peer into yours are another. His thumb drags back and forth across your bottom lip now, almost as if coaxing some form of a response.

“It’s still mean even if you don’t intend it that way. It still hurts,” you say. Even if your face can’t move, your eyes fall. “I miss the you who wasn’t so sharp all the time.”

You soften your words, hoping to break the tough exterior that had shielded him for the last month. Though you see no change in his expression. No shift in his gaze.

“You’ll have to learn to love this one just as much then,” he replies.

It stings. The words slice like a blade. He doesn’t care about the falter on your face though. He ducks in, kissing along your jaw to your earlobe. A small gasp leaves you at the soft, wet touches. You squirm in place, nearly spilling your drink as the liquid sloshes within the confines of the glass.

“I can show you how. Just gotta let me,” he whispers. His hand falls from your face to your neck, wrapping it in a seductive embrace.

Your eyes flutter, and for a split second, you want to give in. His lips on your skin feel like traces of heaven. The soft words he speaks hit your ears like gentle caresses lulling you into compliance. But then you remember where you are and who you're here for.

“Sam, stop,” you whimper.

But he doesn’t pull back. He doesn’t just stay in place either. His hand tightens around your throat. It digs in a little, pressing you against the wall. You can still breathe just fine, but the threat of air loss is right there, teasing you just barely.

Your eyes widen now. Sam had never been so aggressive in the bedroom before, let alone in public.

“We’re here for Clark. You’re gonna embarrass him,” you remind.

“He’s a big boy. He can handle it,” he breathes.

Before you can squeak out any more words of protest, a large hand is curling over Sam’s shoulder and tugging him back. Clark looks at him with a raised brow before his focus shifts to you.

“I guess you two made up?” he asks.

You open your mouth to clarify with some version of what actually happened, but Sam cuts you off. “Something like that.”

He takes you by the wrist, spinning so that he’s against the wall while you’re in front of him with your back against his chest. His chin rests atop your head as his hands rub your arms. Clark looks on, almost suspicious at the complete flip in attitudes.

“So how much longer do we have to be here? They’ve already played ‘Mr. Brightside’ like three times. This thing’s gotta be winding down soon, and I’m pretty eager to get back so we can make up some more,” Sam says.

“Not too much longer,” Clark says, the words slow and edged with uncertainty, “I’ll start saying goodbyes.”

You nod gratefully, your appreciation shining through even without words. Sam smirk prevails on his face yet again.

“Sounds good. Just don’t take too long or we might have to get a head start without you,” he says. His tone indicates he’s teasing, but with how he’s acting, you wouldn’t put it past him to try something like that.

“I won’t. Just give me a few,” Clark responds simply before drifting back into the crowd to say bye to the important people.

He keeps his word and only takes a few minutes. If he had taken any longer, you aren’t confident you would have noticed. You feel like you have whiplash from the way Sam has latched himself onto your body. Earlier he spoke like he couldn’t stand you, but now he clings to you like he’d be willing to bend you over one of the nearby folding tables and bring some real excitement to this party.

You try brushing him off, redirecting his hands to places that wouldn’t earn you side eyes from your boyfriend’s colleagues. He’s not interested though. Every few seconds it feels like he’s nuzzling into your neck or smoothing his hands over your sides.

“Sam, quit it,” you whisper.

“Why? I don’t need Clark’s hearing to know how fast your heart is going. I know you like it,” he purrs.

The best you can hope for is guiding him to the exit and letting Clark meet you there. When the man in question finally does make his way in your direction, you can see a bit of frustration on his face. Annoyance gleams from his eyes as they sweep over how Sam holds you like a territorial dog with a chew toy.

You want to apologize. You hate when Clark isn’t happy with you, and you really don’t want to end the day having fought with both of them. But before you could get any words of remorse out, Sam’s already leading you through the front door. He keeps a tight grip on your wrist, now allowing you even an inch to pull away.

Clark follows along. His hand lands on the small of your back. The faint touch grounds you a little, but before it can have any real effect, Sam’s yanking you closer, nearly causing you to stumble over the steps that lead you three into the parking lot.

The confusion that permeates your mind has now spread to Clark’s face and replaces his prior irritation.

“What’s gotten into you?” he asks, trailing behind in broad strides.

“What do you mean?” Sam laughs. He turns around, holding you close again once in range of the car. “You got the keys?”

Even though he does in fact have them, Clark makes no move to fetch the small metal keys from his pocket.

“No, seriously. What’s going on with you? One minute you’re ready to bite her head off for worrying about you, and now you wanna jump her bones in the middle of a parking garage?” he says, not letting up.

“I can’t win with you two. She doesn’t like it when I’m being serious, you don’t like it when I’m not. What’s a guy supposed to do, huh?” he says.

“It’s not like that, and you know it,” Clark challenges, “You have been acting weird lately. I let you deny it because I know what it’s like having to keep something to yourself. But pretending like it isn’t happening does nothing, especially when it’s affecting us.”

You stand there with Sam’s arm over your shoulders, looking back and forth between them. It’s not even an argument yet, but with a few wrong words, it would have no issue transforming into one.

“Please. You didn’t care how it affected me and her when you kept your secrets for years. So spare me a lecture,” Sam dismisses, “I don’t have some great secret. People just change over time.”

“Not so rapidly!” Clark fires back, “You went away for one weekend, and a different person came back.”

“I’m still me,” he says, “If you have such a problem with the person you think I’m becoming then maybe I’m not the only one we should be evaluating. Maybe something’s changing between all of us.”

You look at Clark with pure worry now. He hasn’t outright said it, but these words border on the worst potential outcome. Reaching for his hand that dangles off your shoulder, you give it a squeeze and gaze up at him.

His attention shifts to you. He smiles at the nervousness written all over your features.

“Don’t look so scared, baby. We’re not gonna break up. Unless that’s what you two think would be best,” he says. It’s almost a threat. He puts the power in your hands, but it’s not by choice. He’s not offering it to you. He’s forcing it between your palms and pushing your fingers to close around it.

“No,” you respond instantly.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Clark backs down, his voice dropping a bit.

“Then what did you mean?” Sam asks.

“I just want to know why. Why are you acting like this now? You used to be the reserved one. The one who was always careful about everything. You kept me and her on track. Now, you’re in there acting like a high schooler and making me look like an idiot, being all over her like that.”

“All over her?” he repeats with a chuckle. His arm slithers off your shoulders, leaving your skin exposed to the chilled night air. He takes a few steps towards your other boyfriend. “You jealous, Clark? Because as soon as we got home, you know I’d be all over you too.”

He scoffs and looks away. Truly, you doubt jealousy had been the root of Clark’s discomfort. You would’ve been irritated too if they started getting handsy in front of people you wanted to make a good impression on. But it was hard to not get flustered when confronted so directly. When Sam stalked forward like that.

The brunette slides to Clark’s side and maneuvers himself behind him. His hands flatten against his muscular biceps, rubbing the skin softly through his suit jacket. You watch as his lips brush the shell of Clark’s ear in the same way they had to yours.

“C’mon. You know I don’t play favorites,” he coos.

Your darker-haired lover has his eyes fixated on the car beside you three. You knew the feelings coursing through him right now. The same ones that swirled within you fifteen minutes ago.

Sam’s long fingers move South on Clark’s arms. The tips coast over his elbows and along his forearms before getting to his wrists. You know the exact sensation. Like little lines of fire being drawn across your limbs. Similar to you, Clark goes to resist. He just has the actual strength to carry it out.

He pushes Sam’s hands off and looks over his shoulder. “We’re gonna talk about it. You can’t keep avoiding it and expecting us to just go along with this forever,” he says.

Sam smirks at the assertion. He lets Clark move him away. You notice one of his hands slip into his pocket, but before the act can even register, it’s back out and reaching for your other boyfriend’s wrist again.

“We will talk about it. But not tonight,” he says.

The beginning of a disagreement begins to leave Clark’s lips. But the hand that had reached for his cuts his statement short when it flexes and spreads a thin band over his wrist. Clark looks down at it while you observe with confusion. But then you see a sparkle of red.

Your pupils dart back to Clark’s face. You watch as his eyes flicker with that same ruby color. His shoulders rise, and his chest puffs out with innate pride. He doesn’t have that sweet, lopsided grin; now his lips look sinister and menacing as they curl. You don’t even have to ask what it is. You recognize that look. You know the effects of red kryptonite.

“You’re such an asshole!” you explode at Sam. You step towards him, practically shoving Clark behind you. “Why would you do that?! You know he hates that stuff!”

Your arm swings forward, smacking at his chest. He just laughs and dodges your weak blows. “Calm down. He’ll be fine. I just wanted to help him unwind for the night,” he says.

You go for another strike, aiming for his bicep this time instead. Before your limb can connect, two strong arms have looped around your waist and tugged you back against a firm body.

“He’s right,” Clark chimes in. His chin hooks over your shoulder as he nuzzles into your neck, planting kisses there that make you squirm. “I was letting you get me all wound up. Just needed to take the edge off.”

Without responding, your hands fly to his wrist, desperate to get the bracelet off for him. You’d only seen Clark under the influence of this stuff once before. You really weren’t eager to relive the experience.

But he’s quicker than you. He slides his arm away and spins you around to face him in the process. No longer does your boyfriend have his usual look that likens him to a carefree puppy. Now you stare into the eyes of a wolf.

“Clark-” you start and grab for his wrist again.

He laughs and lifts his arm in the air, dangling his hand a foot over his own head. Much too high for you to reach. Still, you jump and try to pull it down by his elbow.

“That’s not my name you know,” he teases.

You stop jumping and glare at him. “I’m not calling you Kal,” you say flatly, “Give me that. You’re not yourself when that stuff is on you.”

“I’m more myself like this than I am any other time,” he disagrees.

Sam comes up behind you and places his hands on your hips. “Come on. Don’t spoil the fun before it’s really started, babe,” he taunts.

“Get off,” you shoo and shoot him a harsh look as well.

None of your efforts have the intended effect though. Nothing you do intimidates either of your boyfriends whose frames dwarf your own against the side of the car.

“So angry,” Sam mocks. He ducks in and kisses your cheek while Clark grabs your chin and makes you look at him again.

“We just gotta find something that calms you down. You need to let loose sometimes. You’re always so worked up and high strung,” Clark says. He strokes your jaw as Sam brings his mouth down to your throat. He starts laying kisses there, the affection more intense than it had been inside the hotel.

His soft lips glide across your sensitive skin. He licks your pulse, scrapes his teeth over the thumping artery. Your breath hitches. They both can hear it. You know that from how Clark’s smile grows that much more smug.

“You know it feels good,” he coos. He leans in, teasing you with the idea of a kiss. His mouth hovers not even an inch from your own. The warmth of his breath puffs against your skin. With the slightest move the two of you would be touching.

“I can feel how bad you want it,” he murmurs, “So why not give in?”

“It’s not like you could get away anyways,” Sam whispers.

And you know it’s true. You can’t do anything they don’t want, especially not something Clark doesn’t want. They’re bigger and stronger. With Clark’s heightened senses, there’s no hope of hiding either. You know the smart decision here is to give in. To give in and then wait for an opportunity to get that bracelet off him.

However, you can’t even say this is a choice based solely in logic or survival instinct. You want Clark’s lips on yours. You crave more touches from them both. While your rational mind hates these versions of the two of them, your body doesn’t care. Your skin breaks out into chills while your heart rate speeds up all the same.

“You’re gonna regret all of this later,” you whisper to Clark, letting your eyes fall to his plush lips.

“Maybe. But I’m not worried about that. I’m living right now,” he responds.

He closes the gap between the two of you. A soft moan creeps up your throat, escaping against his mouth. You feel him smirk. The sound encourages him to deepen the kiss.

Sam presses closer behind you. He pulls your ass flush against his pelvis and kisses your neck some more. It’s like a flurry all around you. If any of Clark’s coworkers were leaving the party now, this sight would only add to the embarrassment Sam and you caused earlier.

None of you are thinking about that though. You’re completely wrapped up with each other. Your hands have found their way into the dark locks on either side of you. The left one grips Clark’s while your right extends back and tugs on Sam. Heavy breaths blow against your face from multiple angles. Large palms grope at the different curves of your body.

Clark reaches down into his pocket. His fingers fish around for a few moments before pulling out the small set of keys Sam asked about earlier. He pulls off your lips and tugs you to his chest away from Sam.

“You drive,” he says simply, sliding the metallic object into the other man’s hand.

Sam huffs out a laugh. “Seems like you’re more eager than me now.”

He doesn’t resist or argue though. Instead, he taps the unlock button and slides around the back of the car to head to the driver’s side. At the same time, Clark opens the door to the backseat and ushers you in with a pat to your ass.

“You had a taste of her in there. Now it’s my turn,” he grins.

The drive home was a quick one.

It felt like a right turn, a left turn, and then the car slowing as Sam parked it in the driveway. Clark had made good on his words. He took his turn with you. The entire time his hand was up your skirt, his fingers beneath the thin cotton of your panties, drawing little whiny moans from you.

When the vehicle finally came to a full stop, Sam cleared his throat to alert you and Clark. They spoke back and forth a bit, but their specific words eluded you. Before your mind could come down from the high Clark was working you into, they were hauling you inside.

Clothes came off along the way to the bedroom. Clark’s jacket pooled on the floor in the entryway. Your red dress decorated the bannister. Sam’s belt hung around the bedroom door knob.

Now they have you spread before them on the bed. Your panties have abandoned you like the rest of your outfit. You lie bare for their eyes. At the foot of the mattress, they finish undressing themselves. Sam’s in the lead, his fist already stroking his cock while he stares down at you. Beside him, Clark finishes shimmying off his trousers.

“Think it’s my turn again,” Sam says before getting on the bed with you. He takes hold of one of your ankles, pulling the limb aside to spread your legs.

“We can share now. I’m not feeling too patient,” Clark adds. He follows right along with the other man’s movements.

Grabbing your other leg, he pushes it farther away from the other as he crawls towards you. They both descend upon you in sync. With their broad frames, it’s a tight fit, but they manage to both position themselves at the junction of your thighs.

Clark looks to Sam with a big smile across his face. “More fun when we do it together anyways.”

Sam hums in acknowledgement. He stares into those round, blue eyes for a moment more before rotating them to focus on your glistening center. You’re thoroughly slick from Clark’s fingers in the car and all the attention they lavished on you in the parking garage. Two of his digits spread you open. They both gaze at your drippy entrance, your poor swollen clit.

“You don’t even need a warm up tonight, sweetheart. You’re soaked from a few touches,” Sam mocks.

“It was more than a few,” you whimper in defense of yourself.

“Either way… be grateful we’re so nice, willing to give you all this extra attention,” he continues.

“Yeah, especially when you were being so bratty earlier. Talking back, carrying on,” Clark adds.

You whine softly and squirm your hips in an attempt to speed along the teasing. Even with your pouty denial, you know how bad you want them. These words only add to that needy sensation in your belly.

“So desperate,” Sam croons in a low voice.

Luckily for you, Clark doesn’t say anything back. He must have been honest about feeling impatient because instead he just leans in and connects his mouth with your cunt. A sigh bursts from your lips and you tilt your head back against the pillows.

He boosts your thigh over his shoulder and holds it like some sort of handle. His lips kiss your clit a few times, mashing the little bud with their delicate, smooth surface. He then sticks his tongue out and drags it through your arousal. The tip of it sweeps up over your velvety folds and swirls around your button.

Your back arches off the bed. Sam grabs your thigh closest to him and takes it on his shoulder as Clark had done. He turns his head, trailing some kisses over your inner thigh. They start innocent enough, chaste pecks at the most. But as they get closer to your center where Clark is, they grow sloppier. You feel his tongue gliding around in figure eights before his lips engulf the saliva-traced flesh.

When he finally reaches your pussy, you whine loudly. Your eyes flutter, and your heels dig into their backs. They keep you pinned in place, not allowing you to squirm too much or to buck your hips in excitement.

“Good girl,” Clark breathes in a husky tone before sucking on your pulsing clit.

A sharp squeal comes from you. Your toes and fingers curl at the sensation. In the meantime below, Sam prods at your leaky hole with his tongue. At first, he uses broad strokes. He flattens the muscle against your desire-soaked entrance, lapping without shame or hesitance. You moan appreciatively, nice and shameless just how you know they like.

More juices seep out of you as they work you up. That combined with their spit has you thoroughly soaked between your legs. It doesn’t bother them in the slightest. You can see the shimmer of your essence on Clark’s jaw. His eyes are shut, his features relaxed as he showers your tender nub with attention. Sam’s head nods as he licks. It bobs lazily, his nose occasionally bumping Clark’s jaw. He also sports a peaceful expression. It’s the first one on him you’ve seen on him in weeks. He isn’t annoyed or tense or bitter. He’s just lost in the bliss of how good you taste.

Soon, fingers start to get involved. Sam brings his long, slender digits up to slither their way inside of you. He moves his lips North to get more room for them. Clark moves ever so slightly to accommodate him but not by too much. He’s close enough that his nose can still brush against his skin. Close enough that he still feels the occasional swipe of his tongue against his own.

You feel release boiling in the pit of your stomach. Sparkling bursts of ecstasy fizzle from there through all your limbs.

“You gonna cum, baby?” Sam rasps. He pumps his fingers in and out faster, curling them against your clenching walls.

“Mhm,” you force out. Your eyes screw shut while you nod, your head wagging rapidly.

“Go ahead, honey. Cum for us. Show us how good you feel,” Clark hums. He flicks his tongue at your clit just as quickly as your head moves above.

In a matter of seconds, you shriek. Your thighs quiver against the sides of their heads. You roll your hips into the pleasure while clutching at the sheets. Sam’s fingers dig harder into the malleable flesh of your leg. Clark latches his lips onto your bundle of nerves and works you through the high.

At the point where you would normally start to come down, they still haven’t let up. Sam’s fingers don’t recede any. They stay snug in your cunt while Clark continues to make out with your center. You whine. Your hips now buck with the purpose of getting them off. The motion doesn’t achieve that though. They stay right where they are.

“Clark-” you squeal for the main offender. Your eyes roll back and ragged pants of air puff from your lungs. You grab at the two mops of hair between your legs. “Sam...” you whimper with desperation.

Your pleas go unanswered at first. Clark chuckles while Sam grins against your leg. The latter continues to thrust his hand between your thighs.

“What’s the matter?” Sam croons, his brown eyes gazing up at you.

Words tangle up into a needy whine. You bite your lip to suppress the noise before attempting to reply with the sentiment you know they anticipate.

“It’s too much. Too sensitive,” you mewl.

As expected, they only look at you with patronizing smiles.

“Too much?” Clark repeats mockingly, “It’s not too much. You can take it. Can’t she, Sam?”

“She can take it,” the man to his left affirms before redirecting his words at you, “You know you can, baby. You know you like it. You just can’t help yourself. You always need something to whine about.”

“I do not! Ah-” you say, cut off by your own moan.

It’s the feeling of one of Clark’s thick fingers joining the couple of Sam’s that are already inside you. Your toes curl at the minor stretch you feel. It’s nothing compared to the times you’ve taken both of them at once, but still, it brings slight discomfort.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Clark praises as you lose yourself to the moans.

They both duck back in and work with their mouths again. The tips of their tongues brush against one another as they lap at you. Clark moves in impossibly closer, angling his mouth slightly to the left. It leaves him more open to Sam. It gives him easier access to the other man as well.

Sam knows it’s on purpose. This isn’t coincidental positioning. Clark can be just as needy as you. He just has an aversion to acting so openly pathetic about it, especially with red kryptonite on him. 

His head drifts a little more inward, bringing their mouths even closer together. Sam doesn’t hesitate before taking the leap. He tilts himself towards Clark. His tongue slides out against your cunt, but this time it makes full contact with the other man who moans at the warm, wet caress and reciprocates in full.

Your head pops up at the needy sound leaving his throat. You watch with lust-lidded eyes as their tongues tangle with each other against your folds. Their mouths are still touching your skin. The focus has just become split, flowing to all three points of your triad.

It helps to ease the sting of overstimulation that had been nipping at you. You’re able to actually make the descent back to a normal state of arousal. Reaching towards them, you lazily stroke Sam’s hair. You brush his bangs back from his warm forehead before swapping over to Clark and combing your fingers through his tresses that have become damp with sparse drops of sweat.

As they feel your touch, they become more focused on each other. It’s as if more subconscious parts of their minds understand you’ve been attended to. You’ve been sated. You’re not going to get up and leave, so it’s ok to play with each other a bit.

Sam’s the one to deepen the exchange. He draws his fingers that had gone still from the warmth of your cunt. They land on Clark’s shoulder, sliding up to the nape of his neck to pull him closer. Your other boyfriend doesn’t need to be told twice. He moves in for more, his nose bumping against Sam’s. Their breaths grow louder. You can hear every desperate inhale.

A low hum reverberates from Sam’s throat as Clark pushes him back on the bed. He kisses with the same overeager tenacity of a pup desperate for attention from its master.

Sam crumples on his shoulder, letting his back rest against the blankets beneath the three of you. You rise on your elbows and sit up, readjusting your legs. Your eyes trail over their nude bodies. They catch on the way Clark ruts himself against the crevice between Sam’s hip and the mattress. Sam’s flushed length stands stiff between their bodies, oozing the first beads of pre despite being untouched for the most part.

You’re only left neglected for a few seconds more. Sam manages to guide Clark’s lips down onto his neck. He then tilts his head back and reaches for your wrist.

“Don’t think we forgot about you,” he says with a small tug.

You follow along with the direction and scoot closer. Clark’s still got his mouth attached to Sam’s neck, kissing and licking at the curve of his throat. The recipient of the touches sighs at the dull sense of bliss it brings. Clark grinds himself harder against the bed, letting out a strangled moan before lifting his head.

His eyes are drooping with desire too now. The blown out pupils flit from Sam to you.

“We couldn’t forget about you, baby,” he adds, his mind seemingly just catching up with the words your other lover said.

Grabbing you by your waist, he drags you over Sam’s body and gets you flat on the mattress under him. You can feel the heat of his length against your thigh. Sam sits up beside you and strokes your cheek with two of his long fingers. He studies you for a few moments, looking at you with such intensity. Even in the heat of the moment though, you know he’s different. His normal reverence is absent. There’s hardly any affection in his gaze. It feels empty in a sense. As if his actions are guided by pure carnal need.

“I’ll let you have her pussy, Clark. Think her and I need to make up with something closer,” he says as his thumb pulls your mouth open by pressing on your bottom lip.

The plan receives no argument from Clark. It probably would have had he been the one resigned to your mouth, but he had no protests about getting to fuck you.

“Sounds good to me,” he grins and moves to kneel between your thighs. He tugs you closer by your hips, getting you in the position he wants. “You ready, princess? This won’t be too much for you?”

It’s not said with genuine concern. You’re sure the result would be the same regardless of if you nodded or shook your head. His tip is already nudging at your hole, more than ready to be inside.

You feel his cock sink in and split you open in time with Sam pushing his thumb further into your mouth. A moan bubbles up from you before you close your lips around the digit and suck. You shut your eyes too, allowing the physical sensations to overtake you.

Clark works himself in inch-by-inch. To your surprise, he doesn’t jerk himself all the way in, but he doesn’t go slow either. His desire rolls off him in waves. It’s only a matter of seconds before his tip is kissing your cervix and the thin patch of dark hair above his cock is pressed to your pelvis.

Sam pushes down on your tongue with his thumb. You continue sucking. Having it there soothes you in a way. It staves off any remnants of overstimulation, gives you something to focus on besides the thick cock stretching you apart.

But then he removes it. You whine. Moments after it leaves you, Clark draws his hips back and then slams in again. Now he’s set on picking up the pace. You don’t get a break. He doesn’t take a while to figure out a rhythm. He pounds back and forth, already settling into the one he likes.

Sam is rising up next to your head too. Before you realize what’s happening, he’s tapping the head of his dick on the seam of your lips. Your eyes lift to his face, which looks down at you with a condescending smirk.

“Open up, baby,” he purrs.

Obediently, your lips part. He thrusts himself inside with the same force Clark used on your cunt. You screw your eyes shut to try and repress the urge to gag. He chuckles up above, though it sounds distant to your ears. Being full of them on both ends spreads your senses thin. They try to keep up with everything happening, but they can really only catch the most intense pieces. Everything else blurs into a flurry around you. Clark’s needy grunts, Sam’s satisfied hum, the wet squelches coming from your core. All of it mixes together into a hazy bluster.

Sam’s cock drags over your tongue. It’s much heavier than his thumb. Warmer too. You suck on it all the same. You don’t use too much force or bob your head more than necessary. Even if his personality had been different as of late, you know what affects him on a physical level no matter what. You swipe your tongue over that specific vein and press up on the sensitive ridge that makes him buck. He hisses as you’re able to get him going with only a few small maneuvers.

“Fuck, you’re good at that,” he grunts. His hands land on either side of your head and hold you in place. “It’s much better when you’re using your mouth for this instead of all that worrying.”

As he grips your skull and begins rocking his hips back and forth, Clark rabbits himself harder into you. His fingers dig into you with such force, you’re sure you can feel the bruises forming on your skin. Normally, Clark was more conscious of his strength. He made sure to never pull too hard or hold too tightly. But when that little red stone sits strapped around his wrist, all concern for those kinds of things leaves his mind. All he cares about right now is the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his cock.

“She’s so fucking tight. Like more than usual. Thinks she likes us better like this,” Clark moans as he continues fucking into you with fast, needy strokes.

“Yeah? That true?” Sam huffs. He thrusts forward and drags your head all the way down on his cock. 

In place of an answer, you gag. One set of your fingers claws at the bedding while your other clutches one of his thighs. He holds you in place for a moment. You can’t breathe. Your heart pounds with panic while your pussy squeezes extra tight around Clark. You hear him whimper at the sensation. It sounds far away, fading almost.

You blink slowly. Your head jerks a little. It’s not a conscious choice. Just the natural survival instinct that drives you to fight for air. You don’t receive it at first. Sam keeps your throat full for a few seconds more before pulling out and allowing you to suck in a breath.

You cough at the sudden influx of oxygen. A few droplets of spit spew forward and flank his v-line. He pets your head, stroking you in a way that seems almost caring.

“Such a good girl,” he praises, “You didn’t even move that much. Kept nice and still like you’re supposed to.”

“Of course. She knows just how to take us,” Clark agrees.

“I guess that’s true,” Sam says, thumbing at your cheek before sliding his cock between your lips again.

He’s not as forceful this time. You don’t stop breathing as you suck and lick at him. He keeps his thrusts pretty shallow. One of his hands rests on the top of your head, maintaining contact without grabbing you.

Simultaneously, Clark’s cock throbs inside you. It aches with the urge to spill. His balls that slap against your ass feel tight, more than ready to drain into you.

Sam can tell he’s close from how hard he’s panting. He doesn’t say anything, just watches. His eyes linger on Clark’s hips as they lose rhythm. They buck against you, sputtering as the rush of release creeps up on him. Sam can feel it approaching for him too. He tilts his head back and lets his eyes fall shut. His hand stays firm on the top of your head, using its position for leverage to start thrusting with a little more fervor again.

You whine around his cock. The faint vibrations only serve to coax Sam farther along. Things feel more blurry for you than it does for either of them. While they feel the clear signs of their impending orgasms, yours arrives suddenly. It explodes within you, snapping like a taut rubber band. Your body twitches and spasms. You feel the urge to arch your back and buck your hips, but you’re stationary for the most part between them.

Clark cums after you. He bursts with a sharp groan. His hips slap against your ass, jerking you upward. He maintains the same firm grip he’s had the whole time. You feel the thick, warm ropes flood you in a few spurts. It feels good, relaxing in a way to know the end is near.

Then your attention is swept up by the man occupying your mouth. Another hiss zips through his lips before you feel the sticky heat of his spend hit the back of your throat. You swallow every drop. It’s not like you have much of a choice. He doesn’t pull out or give you any room to do anything else but accept it.

He holds himself there as his length twitches and then softens. When the pleasure has reached its zenith, he finally begins to slip himself out. A thin string of saliva hangs from your lips and the head before he falls from his knees and sits beside you. He watches as Clark slides out too. Unlike the man by your upper half, he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he collapses on top of you.

His body heat seeps into you, his weight crushing your smaller frame. He nips at your neck. “See? It’s so much more fun when you’re not so tense, baby,” he breathes.

“Mhm,” you hum and let your eyes shut.

Sam sinks down next to the pair of you in bed. He doesn’t speak for a couple minutes. Wordlessly, he observes the way Clark holds you beneath him.

“You are much cuter when you’re tuckered out like this,” he says, his voice low and quiet.

You tilt your head against his shoulder and keep your eyes shut, a gesture to show that you’re trying to doze off. Your main hope is that they’ll follow suit. Luckily that seems to be the case as they remain quiet. You hear Sam’s breath even out beside you. Clark stays still on top of you, pressing a lazy kiss to your skin every so often, but it’s not long before you can feel those puffs of air become deeper and more steady.

Once you feel semi-confident they’re both asleep, only then do you open your eyes. As carefully as you can, you shift slightly and reach for Clark’s arm. You keep your movements slow so as to not wake either one of them. When you have his muscular limb held up enough, you hook your fingers around that bracelet and pull. With a little force, it pops free. You don’t know if it’s real or imagined, but you swear you feel his muscles relax.

From your spot on the bed, you toss it towards the closet. The farther it is from Clark the better. You suppose you should probably try to hide from Sam, but for some reason, you don’t feel like he’s set on using it again. Getting it off was pretty easy. Maybe he planned on you doing exactly this from the moment he slid that thing onto your other boyfriend.

Either way, you shut your eyes. You won’t let yourself sleep, but you can at least rest for right now. You and Clark could deal with Sam later. With one of them back to normal, you could figure out how to do the same for the other.

[bigboysfalldeep]

the joggers

Jonathan leaned back on the couch, the silence of the flat settling over him. Daniel had just left for the grocery store, mumbling something about being gone for an hour or so. They weren't particularly close as roommates—polite greetings and the occasional shared meal were about the extent of their interactions. Jonathan didn’t mind; he preferred his solitude.

But today, he found himself restless.

Standing, he wandered aimlessly around the flat, running his fingers over the surfaces of their shared space. The faint hum of the refrigerator filled the background, and sunlight streamed in through the window.

As he passed Daniel’s room, something caught his eye.

Through the open door, draped across the bed, was a pair of Adidas Chile 20 Joggers. Their sleek, shiny fabric shimmered slightly in the light, the dark material almost magnetic in its allure. Jonathan paused in the doorway, his gaze lingering.

Those joggers.

He had noticed them before, each time Daniel wore them. Their tight fit emphasized his roommate’s athletic build—broad shoulders, trim waist, strong legs. Jonathan had always admired Daniel’s physique, though he'd never said anything. It wasn’t exactly the kind of thing you casually brought up over breakfast.

Now, the joggers were just lying there, unguarded.

Jonathan hesitated.

His logical side told him to move along—this was an invasion of privacy, after all. But curiosity tugged at him. He took a cautious step into Daniel’s room, the air suddenly feeling heavier.

Standing at the edge of the bed, he reached out, fingertips brushing the material. It was even softer than it looked, smooth and almost impossibly light. A thrill ran through him as he traced the fabric, marveling at the craftsmanship.

No harm in just looking, he thought.

But the temptation didn’t stop there.

Jonathan glanced at the door. Daniel wouldn’t be back for a while—he’d said he had a long list of errands to run. And it wasn’t as though Daniel would know.

He bit his lip, a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling in his chest. Then, almost on autopilot, he unbuttoned his jeans and let them fall to the floor.

Sliding the joggers off the bed, he hesitated for a moment longer. But something about them drew him in, an almost magnetic pull that he couldn’t resist.

The fabric glided over his legs as he pulled them on, fitting snugly around his thighs and calves. A warm tingle spread through his body, starting at his legs and radiating upward. He shuddered, running his hands along the material, savoring the sensation.

They felt incredible, almost too good to be true.

Jonathan turned to the full-length mirror on Daniel’s closet door, his breath catching as he took in his reflection. The joggers clung to him perfectly, highlighting the lean muscle he rarely paid attention to. He twisted slightly, admiring the way they moved with him, shimmering in the light.He let out a soft laugh, half in disbelief.

Why does this feel so…right?

The joggers seemed to amplify something in him, a confidence he hadn’t felt in years. He ran his hand along his thigh again, marveling at the sleek texture. The warm tingle intensified, spreading through his whole body.

Jonathan stood transfixed before the mirror, his reflection almost unrecognizable to him. The joggers clung to his form like a second skin, accentuating the contours of his thighs in a way that sent a fresh wave of exhilaration through him.

Turning slightly, he admired how the fabric shimmered, catching the light and emphasizing his shape. The tingle that had started in his legs now crept upward, an unrelenting warmth spreading into his chest. His hands instinctively followed the sensation, brushing over his stomach.

His breath hitched.

What is this feeling?

The tightness in his shirt became more apparent as his fingers moved over his torso. His skin felt hypersensitive, every stroke amplifying the growing heat within him. It wasn’t just the joggers anymore—it was as if the sensation they brought with them was awakening something deep inside him.

Jonathan pressed his palm against his chest, feeling his heart hammer beneath his shirt. Each touch seemed to radiate outward, sending shivers up his arms and into his neck. His muscles tensed, his body alive with an energy he couldn’t quite explain.

He glanced down at the joggers again. The once-subtle arousal had become impossible to ignore, the fabric tightening against him. His face flushed, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Staring into the mirror, he let his hands roam, his fingers exploring his chest, tracing the lines of his shoulders. His movements were slow and deliberate, as if savoring every ripple of sensation that followed.

“This… feels so good,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

His reflection stared back at him, a mixture of awe and desire in his eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time he had looked at himself like this, felt this way about his own body. The joggers weren’t just clothing—they were something else entirely. They made him feel… alive.

His hand drifted lower, brushing against the bulge straining against the joggers. The touch sent a jolt through him, his knees nearly buckling under the intensity. He bit his lip, trying to stifle the sound that threatened to escape.

His fingers returned to his chest, tracing the edge of his shirt as if tempted to remove it entirely. The tingling warmth was spreading faster now, a current of pleasure that left him trembling.

Jonathan closed his eyes for a moment, his breaths shallow and uneven. He knew he should stop, knew this was crossing a line, but the sensations were too overwhelming to ignore.

When he opened his eyes again, his reflection seemed almost unfamiliar, his expression one of pure, unfiltered longing.

Jonathan’s head rested against the mirror, his reflection a haze of sweat and lust. His hand moved rhythmically over the bulge in the joggers, unable to stop, each stroke pulling him deeper into the overwhelming sensations coursing through him. His breathing was ragged, vision blurred, every nerve alight with the tingle that now engulfed his entire body.

He didn’t even hear the front door open.

“Feels good, huh?”

The low chuckle cut through the fog in Jonathan’s mind like a blade, his entire body freezing for a moment. Slowly, he turned his head, catching sight of Daniel leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed.

Jonathan’s breath hitched.

Daniel’s smirk was knowing, almost predatory. He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him with deliberate slowness.

“It’s those pants, isn’t it?” he said, voice low and smooth.

“They feel amazing, don’t they?”

Jonathan opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. His hand was still pressed against himself, his body betraying him as it refused to stop.

Daniel’s smirk widened. “Don’t be shy. I’ve seen you watching me—those looks you give me when you think I don’t notice. The way your eyes linger on my legs, my body…”

He took another step closer. “Craving to touch me. To make me yours. Isn’t that right?”

Jonathan shook his head weakly, trying to deny it, but the heat in his cheeks betrayed him.

“It’s cute, really,” Daniel said, closing the distance between them in one fluid motion. Before Jonathan could react, Daniel was behind him, his strong arms wrapping around Jonathan’s waist. His hands slid over Jonathan’s chest, palms warm and firm through the thin fabric of his shirt.

Jonathan shivered, his knees nearly buckling at the contact.

“Oh, you poor thing…” Daniel whispered, his breath hot against Jonathan’s ear. His hands roamed lower, tracing the curves of Jonathan’s body. “Your mind is so weak and feeble, isn’t it? So easy to give in, so easy to lose yourself.”

Jonathan let out a shaky breath, his head falling back against Daniel’s shoulder. He should resist, he knew he should, but every word Daniel spoke seemed to burrow deeper into him, unraveling his will.

“That’s adorable, y’know?” Daniel murmured, his lips brushing against Jonathan’s neck. “Especially when it’s so easy for me to… have certain effects on you, let’s say.”

Jonathan’s hand was still moving, his strokes slow and desperate. Daniel’s hands slid up to his chest again, encouraging him, guiding him.

“Just focus,” Daniel said, his voice hypnotic. “Focus on how the fabric feels. How tight it is. How shiny it looks in the light. No thoughts needed, Jonathan. Just feel.”

Jonathan’s mind was a haze, every word sinking him deeper. The tingle spread anew, radiating from where Daniel’s hands touched him, their warmth almost searing.

“It’s okay to let go,” Daniel whispered. “Just let it happen. Let me guide you. Doesn’t it feel so much better when you stop thinking?”

Jonathan let out a soft whimper, his body completely yielding to Daniel’s touch and words.

Daniel’s voice was a velvet purr, every word sinking into Jonathan like a warm embrace, binding him tighter to the moment.

“I can feel you leaking, Jonathan,” Daniel murmured, his hands sliding lower, brushing tantalizingly over the growing wetness staining the joggers.

“That’s okay. Let it all out.”

Jonathan’s breath came in short, shallow gasps, his hand trembling as it continued to stroke. He could feel the heat pooling, the tingling sensation now a relentless current coursing through his body. Every inch of him burned, his mind spiraling deeper into Daniel’s intoxicating words.

“Into the joggers,” Daniel whispered, his voice soothing yet commanding. “I always do that too.”

Jonathan shuddered at the confession, his body responding instinctively. The joggers clung tighter, every movement amplifying the slick, almost electric sensation against his skin.

“And with every drop,” Daniel continued, his lips grazing Jonathan’s ear, “let all your little thoughts leak out too. Every single one of them, dripping out of the tip of your cock”

Jonathan whimpered, his body trembling uncontrollably as the tension within him built to an unbearable peak. He couldn’t think anymore, couldn’t resist—Daniel’s words were all he could hear, all he could feel.

“Every drop, every thought… gone,” Daniel whispered, his tone laced with possessive satisfaction. “That’s it, Jonathan. Just let go. Let it all flow out of you. And then…”

Jonathan’s body arched, his muscles tightening as the inevitable release approached, his mind completely lost in the sensations overtaking him.

“When you finally release,” Daniel said, his voice low and certain, “you’ll be mine.”

Jonathan’s eyes fluttered shut, the world dissolving as he surrendered completely.

Jonathan's body shuddered violently as he released, the tension flooding out of him in a wave of pure, overwhelming sensation. His knees buckled, and he slumped backward, his weight falling into Daniel’s strong arms.

“There you go,” Daniel whispered, his voice soft and soothing as he steadied Jonathan against him. His grip was firm but tender, holding him upright as he trembled, spent and dazed.

Jonathan’s head fell against Daniel’s shoulder, his breath ragged, his vision swimming with the aftershocks of what had just happened. He felt Daniel’s hand slide up to cup his face, tilting it gently upward.

“That’s right, Jonathan,” Daniel murmured, his tone dripping with affection and possession. “You’re mine now.”

Jonathan’s gaze met Daniel’s, and he saw something in his eyes—a mixture of warmth and dominance, a protective yet possessive intensity that made his chest tighten in a strange, almost comforting way.

Daniel’s fingers brushed over Jonathan’s cheek, his touch slow and deliberate. “You’ve given yourself to me,” he continued, his voice low and soothing. “Completely.”

Jonathan couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, couldn’t even think. He simply nodded weakly, leaning further into Daniel’s embrace, the warmth of his body a grounding presence.

Daniel’s hand moved downward, tracing along Jonathan’s chest before settling just below his waist. He stroked him gently, his palm pressing against the dampness that had spread through the joggers.

Jonathan closed his eyes, letting himself sink into Daniel’s touch, the overwhelming sensations of earlier fading into a hazy, blissful calm.

Daniel continued to caress him, his movements slow and deliberate, as if savoring every moment. “That’s it,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “No more worries. No more thoughts. Just me.”

Daniel’s hands rested firmly on Jonathan’s waist as he steadied him, his lips curling into a satisfied smile. He stroked the damp fabric of the joggers one last time, his touch slow and deliberate, before letting his hands glide upward to Jonathan’s shoulders.

“You’ll keep those joggers on today,” Daniel murmured, his voice calm but commanding, the words seeping into Jonathan’s dazed mind like a gentle tide. “Let’s see just how far you’re willing to fall.”

Jonathan blinked sluggishly, his body still trembling as the intensity of the moment ebbed away. The joggers clung to him, their slick material damp and snug against his skin, a constant reminder of what had just happened.

“I… I…” he stammered, his voice hoarse, but Daniel placed a finger under his chin, tilting his head up to meet his gaze.

“No need to speak,” Daniel said, his tone both soothing and authoritative. “Just listen. Just feel.”

Jonathan nodded weakly, his mind too clouded to resist.

Daniel guided him out of the room and into the living space, his arm draped protectively around Jonathan’s shoulders. The joggers shimmered slightly in the light, the damp patch visible but ignored as Jonathan moved in a haze, unable to think clearly, unable to do anything but follow.

“Good,” Daniel said as he settled Jonathan onto the couch, his touch lingering on his shoulder. “Now, just relax. Let those feelings sink in. Let them remind you of who you belong to.”

Jonathan’s breathing was shallow, his body hypersensitive to every brush of the fabric against his skin. His thoughts felt distant, blurred by the lingering sensations and Daniel’s steady, commanding presence.

Daniel leaned down, his lips close to Jonathan’s ear. “You’ll wear them all day,” he said softly, his voice wrapping around Jonathan like a blanket. “Feel every little sensation they bring you. Every tingle. Every spark. Let it remind you how easy it is to give in.”

Jonathan swallowed hard, the warmth of Daniel’s words washing over him. He didn’t protest, didn’t even think to.

“You’re already mine,” Daniel continued, his hand brushing lightly against Jonathan’s chest. “But by the end of today, you won’t even remember what it felt like to be anything else.”

Jonathan shivered, his head nodding slightly as he sank deeper into the couch.

Daniel crouched in front of Jonathan, his gaze never wavering. His eyes were sharp, but there was a softness to them, a possessive tenderness that sent a shiver down Jonathan’s spine.

“You’re such a good boy,” Daniel murmured, reaching up to cup Jonathan’s face. His thumb brushed across Jonathan’s cheek in slow, deliberate strokes, his touch both soothing and claiming.

Jonathan’s breath hitched. He was still reeling, his body exhausted yet hyperaware of every sensation—the dampness of the joggers against his skin, the warmth of Daniel’s hand, the steady rhythm of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Daniel’s hand slid lower, his fingers tracing the curve of Jonathan’s jaw. “Look at you,” he whispered, his voice low and intimate. “Falling so perfectly. You were made for this, weren’t you? For me.”

Jonathan swallowed hard, his lips parting as if to respond, but no words came out. He could only stare back, his body leaning slightly into Daniel’s touch as if drawn by an invisible force.

Daniel’s lips curled into a knowing smile.

“It’s okay,” he said softly, his hand moving to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Jonathan’s ear. “You don’t need to say anything. I can see it in your eyes. Feel it in the way you tremble.”

Jonathan’s cheeks flushed, his gaze flickering down for a moment before Daniel gently tilted his chin back up.

“Ah, ah,” Daniel chided playfully. “Eyes on me, Jonathan.

”Their gazes locked, and Jonathan felt as though he were being pulled deeper, his thoughts dissolving under the weight of Daniel’s presence.

“You’re mine now,” Daniel said, his voice filled with a quiet certainty as he continued to caress Jonathan’s face. “And I’m going to take such good care of you.”

Jonathan nodded faintly, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. He didn’t know how far he’d fall, but in that moment, he didn’t care.

All that mattered was Daniel.

Daniel’s thumb continued its gentle caress along Jonathan’s cheek, his fingers steadying his face as he spoke softly, possessively. The closeness, the warmth, and the lingering sensations in the joggers were too much for Jonathan’s overwhelmed body.

A soft, helpless moan escaped his lips, and his eyes fluttered shut.

“Look at you,” Daniel murmured, his tone filled with satisfaction. “You can’t even help it, can you?”

Jonathan’s body trembled, his breath hitching as the sensations built again, faster this time, as if every nerve had been primed to respond. His chest rose and fell in quick, shallow gasps, and his hands gripped the edges of the couch as his muscles tensed.

“Go on,” Daniel whispered, his hands cradling Jonathan’s face, his thumbs brushing across his temples now. “Let it happen. Let it all out for me.”

Jonathan’s eyes fluttered open briefly, glassy and unfocused, before they rolled back entirely as his body gave in once more. A soft cry escaped his lips, and his entire frame shuddered violently as he released again, the joggers now clinging impossibly tighter to his skin.

Daniel held him steady, his arms strong and grounding as Jonathan slumped forward, utterly spent. His face fell against Daniel’s chest, his breathing heavy and erratic as he trembled in the aftermath.

“There you go,” Daniel murmured, stroking Jonathan’s hair gently now, his fingers threading through the damp strands. “That’s my good boy. Just let it all out.”

Jonathan whimpered softly, his body weak and pliant in Daniel’s arms.

“Shhh,” Daniel soothed, his voice low and comforting as he cradled Jonathan closer. “You’re doing so well for me. Just let it all sink in. No thoughts, no resistance. Only me.”

Daniel’s hand slid lower, stroking gently over the damp fabric of the joggers, as if to reassure Jonathan.

“You feel that?” Daniel whispered. “That’s what it means to be mine. Completely and utterly mine.”

Jonathan could only nod weakly, his body melting further into Daniel’s embrace.

[authortelevision]

george and the camerawoman ₊˚⊹♡

words: 2,336 ✦ .ᐟ

♯┆ football george clarke, dominant george, smut, cunnilingus

you are part of chrismd’s camera crew and george has constantly flirted with you since you knew him. he’s obsessed with coming up to you between footage just to ‘talk’. but what if the flirty talk continues when you invite him to your place…

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

The midday sun cast a warm, golden glow across the field as ChrisMD went over his game plan. You adjusted the camera, but your focus kept drifting toward George, who was catching his breath a few feet away, hands resting on his hips as he watched you with an unwavering gaze. His chest rose and fell, the thin fabric of his shirt clinging to his damp skin, emphasising every contour of his chest in a way that was impossible to ignore.

When he caught you staring, a slow smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He strolled over, his eyes shining as the sun hit his blue eyes. “Hey, camerawoman,” he teased, his voice still breathless, “Think you can show me how you make Chris’s shit shots look this good?”

You smirked, holding his gaze as you tilted the camera toward him. “Maybe,” you replied, matching his tone. “If you actually score better, football man.”

“Guess I’ll just have to try harder then,” he murmured, stepping closer behind you while his hands found its way to your shoulder, gripping your shoulders playfully, lightly shaking you in a friendly way. You fought to keep your expression steady, but his touch lingered in a way that made your pulse quicken.

From across the field, Chris shouted with a laugh, “George, quit flirting with my camera crew and focus on beating me!” As Chris looked away, George leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear.

“Trust me, if anyone’s got my focus right now, it’s not Chris,” he murmured. His hand remained on your shoulder, his fingers tracing light circles that left a tingling warmth on your skin.

“Exactly, George,” you said loudly, “Stop flirting with me again” you turn your head to face him. You watch him as his eyes trace your face, slowly landing on your lips to gulp and quickly turn away quickly jogging away.

George had a habit of coming up to you, and only you, throughout Chris’ shoots. You had become quite good friends after a while. You knew he was the flirty type so you hid your feelings deep within. It would ruin the dynamic of the filming if you both took the flirting further so you had to just endure the persistent tension between you both.

Between shots, George found reasons to come back for “feedback,” each time staying just a little longer, his hand brushing your arm or lingering near your shoulder. The subtle tension grew with each glance and touch.

By the time the final round arrived, you caught him watching you from a few feet away, his hands on his hips, chest rising and falling as he stared at you with an intensity that sent that familiar but taunting feeling through you. The late afternoon sun highlighted the sheen of sweat on his forehead, his curls clinging as his gaze trailed over your body, settling on your eyes.

“Hard to focus on football with you here, you know that?” he said, his voice low, his tone holding something that left your heart racing.

You held his gaze, fighting to keep your voice steady. “Maybe you just need to work on your concentration,” you replied with a sly smile.

He chuckled, stepping closer until there was hardly any space between you. “Oh, trust me, I’m focused,” he murmured, his hand slipping back to your shoulder, fingers grazing your skin in a way that left a slow burn. He held your gaze for a while longer, a promise lingering in his smirk before he jogged back to the field.

As the sun dipped lower, casting a warm glow over the field, you began packing up your equipment, the quiet making you hyper-aware of every move George made. When he approached, offering to help, the unspoken tension between you hummed as your hands brushed with each piece of gear. He carried the last bag to your car, grinning as he pretended to strain under the weight. “I promise I’m stronger than I look,” he teased, his eyes locking onto yours.

“Right,” you replied, laughing. As you packed away the last item, the silence felt more than the usual playful flirting you were used to around him. George stepped closer, his face serious now, eyes searching yours. “You know, I love these shoots with Chris,” he said softly, eyes lingering. “But it’s more fun knowing you’ll be there.”

Your pulse quickened, and you matched his tone, teasing back. “Really? Thought I was just the camerawoman,” you said, trying to stay calm despite the rush of excitement filling you.

He shrugged, a playful smirk playing on his lips. “Nah, you’re so much more. And if you weren’t here, I’d probably be winning every time, you keep me humble” he added, his voice barely hiding a note of sincerity.

Feeling bold, you asked, “Do you want a lift home?” Your heartbeat was surprised at the suggestion, your voice barely above a whisper.

His face brightened, his grin returning. “Yeah, I’d love one. Only if you admit I’ve been playing better than Chris, though,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes but laughed, feeling a thrill as you both climbed into your car. The interior filled with a mix of your perfume, the fresh scent of grass, and a tension that made the air feel thick. As you drove, he sat back, glancing at you with that same intensity, his hand resting just a little too close to yours.

When you arrived, he followed you in, sprawling out on your sofa like he’d done it a hundred times before. You slipped down the hallway to collect a few things, pausing to check your reflection in the mirror. After freshening up with a subtle touch of gloss, you took a slow breath to steady your nerves, the thought of his eyes on you with no other distractions sent your mind spiralling with dirty thoughts of what George had been teasing earlier.

When you returned, George was stretched out comfortably, his damp shirt clinging to his frame in a way that left little to the imagination. His head was tilted back, his eyes closed, but as you stopped in the doorway, his head lifted to meet your gaze, his eyes a darker more intense blue.

He sat on the edge of the sofa, his gaze fixed on you as you lingered a few steps away. His brow furrowed, eyes softening with a hint of concern. He patted the space beside him and raised his hand, reaching toward you gently. “C’mere,” he murmured, his voice low, inviting.

You hesitated for a moment, but couldn’t resist the warmth in his eyes. You walked over slowly, letting him take your hand as you sank down next to him. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, and he leaned in, studying your face. “What’s wrong?” he asked, as if he didn’t want to break whatever spell had settled between you.

You glanced down, feeling his fingers tighten just a bit around yours. The quiet stretched out, but he was patient, waiting, his hand steady in yours. “What are you thinking about?” he asked, a gentle curiosity in his tone.

You took a breath, feeling the warmth of his hand holding yours, you looked down again at the intimacy until the truth slipped out before you could even stop it. “You,” you murmured, so softly that it almost disappeared into the air between you.

He let out a low, surprised laugh. “Me?” he echoed, a hint of amusement lighting his face.

Before you could respond, he let go of your hand only to slide his arm around you, pulling you gently onto his lap. You moved your leg so you were straddling his lap. You felt his hands settle on your waist, holding you securely, his warmth sinking into you as you rested against him. He looked up at you, his eyes meeting yours with a kind of quiet wonder, as if he couldn’t quite believe you were there with him.

As his hands tightened, his deep gaze locked onto yours, the intensity of his stare making your breath catch. His fingers splayed across your hips, pulling you even closer until there was no space left between you. He leaned in, his lips inches away from yours. “Please, George…” you murmured, barely able to contain the longing in your voice. “Kiss me.”

His eyes darkened with longing, and his lips brushed yours, testing, teasing before he claimed you in a kiss that was possessive and deep. His hands roamed over your back, pulling you flush against him. His mouth moved slowly but eagerly, leaving you breathless.

As his lips trailed down your neck, a shiver ran through you, and you let out a soft gasp as your hips shifted on his lap, feeling the unmistakable response of his body beneath you. A low groan escaped his lips as he tightened his grip on your waist, his breathing growing heavier. You could feel his reaction intensify with every subtle movement you made, his hands pressing firmly against your hips as though trying to control the rush of excitement building.

You dared to roll your hips again, just enough to feel him harden beneath you, and he let out a breath that was almost a growl, his fingers digging into your waist as he struggled to keep his composure. “You’re driving me crazy,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire, his lips brushing against your neck, his stubble slightly scratchy, as his hands began to roam over your body, moving to places that you’d been craving to be touched.

Each shift of your hips made his hold on you tighten, his hands guiding you as though he wanted to keep you exactly where you were, feeling the pressure building with each movement. He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with desire. “It’s like I’m out there playing football, and all I see is your face. I keep imagining you filming me… fuck, and I imagine you touching yourself to the footage.”

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but the thought of George fantasising about you was incredibly arousing. “George…” you breathed, but the words hung unspoken, lost in the weight of the moment.

"Show me," he whispered, his hands moving to your hips. "Show me how you touch yourself thinking of me."

You bit your lip, feeling a surge of power as you began to move your hips up and down, grinding against his clothed cock.

"That's it," he groaned, his voice hoarse with need. "Let me see how much you want me."

You leaned forward, your hands resting on his broad shoulders as you moved against him, your wetness increasing with each thrust. George's hands slid up your back, his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling your face close to his.

"I want to taste you," he growled, his lips finding yours in a messy kiss. His tongue invaded your mouth, demanding and possessive. You broke the kiss, gasping for breath. "Please, George," you begged, your voice trembling. "I need you.”

With a moan, he tore his lips from yours and began to explore your body with his hands and mouth. He slid his fingers under your shirt, his touch sending shivers of pleasure through you. He found the clasp of your bra with ease, his fingers undoing it in seconds. Your breasts spilled into his waiting hands, and he cupped them, his thumbs brushing over your hardening nipples.

"Fuck, you’re so beautiful," he murmured, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. He lowered his head, taking a a nipple into his mouth, sucking and teasing it with his tongue. You arched into his touch, your hands clutching at his curly hair, urging him on.

George's fingers continued their exploration, sliding beneath the waistband of your shorts. He traced the damp fabric of your underwear, his touch familiarly gentle. "You’re so wet for me, my love," he whispered.

He hooked his fingers into the sides of your underwear and slowly slid them down your legs, his touch never leaving your skin. You lifted your hips to help him, and he discarded your underwear, his eyes dark with desire as he took in the sight of you.

"Fuck you’re even more perfect than I could have imagined," he breathed, his fingers gently parting your folds, revealing the most sensitive part of you.

George lowered his head, his warm breath caressing your sensitive flesh. He kissed the inside of your thighs, his stubble tickling your skin, sending shivers of anticipation through you. You squirmed on his lap, desperate for his touch.

"Please, George," you pleaded, your voice thick with need. "I can't wait any longer."

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against your sensitive skin. "Be patient, my love, I’ve wanted this for so long."

George's tongue finally made contact with your aching clit, flicking it gently, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. You cried out, your hands gripping the cushions of the sofa as he continued to tease you, his tongue swirling and flicking, driving you wild.

"That's it, let it all out," he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin. "I want to hear how much you enjoy this."

You couldn't hold back your moans and cries as he pleasured you, his tongue working to devour you, driving you closer and closer to the edge. Your hips bucked against his face, your movements becoming more frantic as your orgasm built.

"George, I'm going to come," you gasped, your body trembling. He increased the pace, his tongue flicking faster, his fingers now joining in, sliding into your wetness, finding your sweet spot. "Good girl," he urged.

You exploded in a cascade of pleasure, your body shaking as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over you. George continued to lick and suck, drawing out your orgasm, until you were reduced to a quivering mess in his arms.

As your breathing slowed, George lifted his head, looking at you lovingly through his eyelashes. "Fuck, how am I suppose to carry on knowing how good you are," he said, his voice hoarse.

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a/n: my first smut !! i hope you guys like it, i’m so into george rn but i promise ill post arthur to soon !! love you guys and your support on my other fics !!

[shy9-29]

loot drop or love drop? ⚡︎ l.hs

╰┈➤ pairing: lee heeseung x reader

╰┈➤ wc: 1.5k

╰┈➤ synopsis: Your boyfriend, who you had missed all day, had barely acknowledged your presence since you got home. All you had gotten was a muttered "hi baby, missed you" before he returned to his screen. Was his game seriously more important than his own girlfriend?

╰┈➤ genre: fluff, romance, gamer x girlfriend

╰┈➤ warnings: skin ship, pet names, literally it

masterlist / requests open

Arriving at your shared apartment, you couldn’t contain your excitement after a long day at work. Thoughts of Heeseung, his smile, and his warm embrace filled your mind.

You eagerly dropped your bag near the door and walked in silently, anticipating the wonderful moment of reuniting with your boyfriend. If one thing’s for sure, you missed him like crazy.

Heeseung's eyes were laser-focused on the screen, his fingers dancing across the keyboard in a blur, seemingly oblivious to your arrival.

The glow of the monitor illuminated his face, highlighting the contours of his jaw and casting a soft shadow beneath his intense gaze. It was obvious that he was immersed in the heat of the game, barely registering the world around him.

"Dude!" your boyfriend exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air and wheeling his chair back from the desk. A hint of frustration tinged his voice as he spoke, "We almost died because of you!"

He let out a huff of annoyance, the veins in his forearms slightly more prominent as he clenched his fists in mid-air. His frustration was evident in his tense body language and the slight downturn of his lips.

It was clear that the game had tested his patience, as he let out a stream of hushed expletives, seemingly unaware that you were standing behind him, witnessing his moment of irritation.

You chuckled softly, amused by his dramatic reaction, and crept up behind him. With a playful tone, you wrapped your arms gently around his neck and whispered, attempting to surprise him. "Guess who?"

He startled at the sudden touch, his shoulders tensing for a brief moment before he turned his head towards you, surprise evident in his eyes. The initial shock quickly melted into a warm smile as he recognized your voice. "You scared me," he chuckled, tilting his head to nuzzle against your arm that was draped around his neck. "Hey, I missed you."

He smiles faintly as he feels your kiss on his forehead. Then, without much enthusiasm or greeting, he speaks to his mic, saying, "Oh, it's just y/n." The lack of excitement in his tone is palpable.

Your heart sank at his lukewarm response. It was as if you were an afterthought, a mere distraction from the main event of his gaming session. The way he casually dismissed your presence with a flat tone stung.

There was no warmth in his greeting, no indication of genuine happiness in seeing you. You tried to brush it off, telling yourself it was just his focus on the game talking, but deep down, it still hurt.

Feeling impatient, you spent 30 minutes doing chores while waiting for your boyfriend to finish his game. You eventually poked your head into the room and asked with a hint of annoyance, "Are you done yet?"

Heeseung, still absorbed in his game, didn’t respond right away. After a few more moments, he finally glanced over at you and replied, “Almost done, just a few more minutes.” His tone was somewhat dismissive, as if your presence and patience had already been accounted for in his mental tally.

So you decided to distract yourself again by making some Galbae, aka pear juice, Heeseung’s favorite. 10 minutes went by and you practically waltz into the room, handing him a glass cup full of galbae.

Heeseung accepted the glass of galbae you had lovingly prepared for him, taking a grateful sip. "Thanks," he muttered, his attention still divided between his game and your gesture. Despite his brief moment of appreciation, his focus quickly returned to his game, as he continued his intense gaming session, seemingly undisturbed by your attempt to reclaim his attention.

Hours ticked by and Heeseung showed no signs of slowing down. He was completely engrossed in the game, his eyes glued to the screen as he engaged in battle after battle, his friends’ voices a constant backdrop to the action.

As the night wore on, you found yourself feeling increasingly neglected and frustrated, your attempts to engage with him falling on deaf ears as he remained absorbed in his digital world.

Frustration mounting, you crawled out of bed, grabbed the headphones from your boyfriend, silencing his game. "Sorry, boys, Heeseung has to go," you announced, cutting him off mid-game.

Before placing the headphones down, you caught snatches of his friends' laughter and jokes at his expense.

Heeseung’s eyes widened in disbelief as you snatched away his headphones, abruptly ending his gaming session. He tried to protest, but before he could say anything, you had already cut him off and bid farewell to his friends.

As you placed the headphones down, the sound of his friends' laughter and playful teasing filled the room, adding to his mounting embarrassment.

"What the hell, y/n," he exclaimed, frustration and annoyance etched on his face. "I was in the middle of something important."

You couldn’t help but tease him, your voice laced with a hint of playful sarcasm. "What could you be possibly doing right now that’s important than your own girlfriend?" The question hangs in the air as you wait for his response, still holding onto the headphones as you look at him.

Heeseung bristled at your sarcastic tone, obviously feeling defensive. He let out a huff of irritation, his eyes narrowed. "I was gaming with my friends," he retorted, his voice filled with annoyance. "It's important to me. We were in the middle of an intense match."

You sighed, feeling a mix of affection and frustration. He was like a little kid. "Hee... You've been playing for hours since I've been home. Do you know how much I just wanted to come home from work and spend time with you?” Your voice carried a hint of hurt and disappointment as you express your longing for his attention and company.

Heeseung was taken aback by your words, feeling a pang of guilt at the hurt in your voice. He hadn't realized how long he had been glued to his screen, completely immersing himself in his gaming world. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, and he immediately felt a wave of remorse wash over him.

"I... I didn’t mean to ignore you," he mumbled, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "I got carried away in the game, I guess."

He looked up at you, his gaze softened with a hint of apology. “I’m sorry, y/n. I didn’t mean to make you feel neglected. I guess I just got too caught up in the game and forgot how much time had passed.”

He took a deep breath and stood up from his chair, closing the distance between the two of you. He reached out and tentatively wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. "I should have been more mindful of spending time with you," he muttered, his voice filled with genuine regret. "You're way more important than any game, you know that, right?”

You melted into his embrace, feeling the sincerity in his words. It was reassuring to hear him acknowledge your importance in his life. He planted a tender kiss on the crown of your head, his grip on you tight.

After a moment, you broke the embrace and stepped back. You looked at him with slight amusement. "You know, if you had spent that time on me instead, I would’ve let you win the game," you teased, a hint of a smile playing on your lips.

Heiseung chuckled at your playful comment, a sheepish grin appearing on his face. He reached out and ruffled his hair, looking a bit sheepish. "Well, if I had known the prize was that good, I definitely would have chosen you over the game," he admitted, his eyes sparkling with affection.

He took a step closer to you, gently tugging on your wrist and pulling you back into his arms. "But seriously," he said, his voice tinged with sincerity, "I promise I'll spend more time with you, and less time glued to that stupid screen. I'd hate to miss out on any more moments with you."

A warm smile spread across your face as you wrapped your arms around his waist, leaning into his embrace. "Apology accepted," you replied softly, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. "But I'll hold you to that promise of spending more time together."

You gave him a playful poke on the stomach before adding, "And no more sacrificing me for the game, okay? I'm waaay more valuable than any win or any of those things you pick up in the games."

Heeseung couldn't help but chuckle at your apparent ignorance regarding video games. "It’s called a loot drop y/n," he explained in a patronizing tone.

You rolled your eyes, playfully sticking out your tongue in response. "Yeah, yeah, loot drop, I get it," you retorted, feigning annoyance. "But come on, a bunch of digital items or me? I think it's pretty obvious which one's more valuable."

Heeseung wrapped his arms tighter around you, pulling you closer and nuzzling his face into your hair. "I know, I know," he chuckled, surrendering to your point. "You’re priceless, more precious than any loot drop in the world. How could I possibly choose anything over that?"

Uploading 4 fanfics in a day witn a total of over 15k words is crazy (for me) | masterlist

[honeytonedhottie]

honey's guide to winter⋆.ೃ࿔*:･❄️💕

winter is my SEASON. as a december baby and a certified winter princess im qualified to talk about to have the most princessy, sugary winter that you've ever had and were gonna explore just that in this post…💬🎀

WINTER BEAUTY ;

when i think of winter beauty i think of glittery, shimmery eyelids and frosty pink lips. glittery nails, long dolly lashes, and LOTS and lots of ribbons and furry accessories. winter beauty is about looking fabulously flushed from the cold, looking and feeling like a glittery winter fairy ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅💕

lets start off with the makeup. first and foremost wash ur face and prep ur skin cuz it makes ur makeup look 10x better…💬🎀

♡ prime and prep ur skin ♡ put on ur foundation

when putting on foundation it helps to apply the product onto the top of ur hand and apply with a brush for more coverage 💓🍨

♡ next, use some concealer as needed ♡ fill in ur brows

♡ now feel free to prep ur eye lids if u have some redness, but we're gonna go in with an icy eyeshadow. for this look lets do a light blueish grey tone and just put that all over our eyelid

♡ put a darker blue color on the outer corner of ur eyes, and very gently blend outwards towards ur brows as u see in the first photo above. then go in with an angelic light blue on the inner area of ur eyelid (not the inner corner) ♡ use a bit of eyeliner to make ur eyes stand-out

this makeup look is focused highly on the EYES and the lips so feel free to do ur face as u normally would, contouring, blush etc ❄️🍧

♡ go in with some GLITTERY eyeshadow to make ur eyes shine and you can NEVER have enough shimmer ♡ next put on some half lashes because they rly pull this look together and dont forget to apply mascara onto ur lower lashes to make ur eyes look fuller ♡ a little highlight under ur brows for that blingy 2000's look

now lets talk about how to do the PERFECT FROSTY LIP. u wanna start by outlining ur lips with a lip liner that is on the rosier side. nyx has a lot of good ones like that. go in with a baby pinkish or a light pink lipstick (i say both these things cuz you'll know what looks good on u) and finish off with a shimmery lipgloss

furthermore we need a yummy winter scent! invest in some yummy scents like…💬🎀

♡ soft, powdery scents

♡ warm cashmeres and cake scents

♡ the bath and body works snowflakes and cashmere scent specifically is so nostalgic to me

♡ frosty petal and berry scents

we should also be prepared to protect our gorgeous doll skin from the harsh winter weather so make sure that ur doing ur skincare accordingly! look for creamy, hydrating formulas and make sure to cleanse gently in little circles ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ after you've cleansed, use a nice rich serum to keep ur skin plump and hydrated and NOT dry.

another thing, chapped lips are a NO this winter so make sure that ur walking around with ur yummy chapstick to protect ur lips from the cold and keep them pillowy soft…💬🎀

♡ creamy lipglosses

♡ whipped soaps and body butters

WINTER ESSENTIALS ;

during the winter time, use a lotion that is on the thicker side because we should be moisturized all year round but ESPECIALLY in the winter. because its so cold, lean towards lotions that are thicker and creamier. also look out for lotions that have oils, or glycerin/sodium lactate (these are all humectants and they're FANTASTIC for hydrating ur skin).

♡ thick lotions, creams and body butters

♡ a christmas wishlist written in a pink glitter gel pen OR a fluffy pink pen

♡ chapstick and LOTS of shimmery lipgloss

♡ herbal teas and supplements

during the winter time, there we're exposed to reduced sunlight, and seasonal illnesses. and that not hot!! so make sure that ur taking supplements like vitamin D (cuz during the winter time, we tend to spend more time indoors and have less exposure to sunlight, which is crucial for vitamin D synthesis) ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ along with other things like zinc, elderberry, and other probiotics.

DISCLAIMER : its crucial for u to do ur own research when it comes to ur health so make sure that u do that before applying anything that u learn on the internet for ur own safety!…💬🎀

some teas that i recommend in the winter time is ginger tea, peppermint tea and lemon balm tea. i also rly love rosehip tea cuz it is SUCH a treat 💕

♡ hot chocolate with pink marshmallows and whipped cream

♡ a bouncy blowout

♡ big fluffy lashes

WINTER FASHION ;

winter is literally THEE season for over the top accessories like earmuffs and mittens. invest in some super cute fluffy earmuffs and gloves, fluffy boots and puffy coats with fur trimmed that are cinched at the waist to look like an adorable winter doll! mini skirts, tights and leg warmer combo is also very doll for the winter.

this winter we're giving the baby pink and white color scheme, with long silky hair, icy pink lips, victoria's secret pink perfumes and BODY GLITTER…💬🎀

on the winter wardrobe shopping list/checklist we have thick tights and stockings, thick comfy pajamas, a couple or more cute pairs of boots, a winter coat etc.

ribbons

legwarmers

thick tights

thick stockings

comfy pjs

boots

adorable winter coat

fur coat

some more things that are rly winter-esque in fashion are those fur coats. they're SO luxurious and so pretty + they keep u warm so they're an absolute STAPLE when it comes to winter fashion. look for things that are FUZZY cuz they rly radiate those amazing winter vibes.

WINTER MOOD BOARDS ;

PREPPING FOR WINTER ;

♡ buy some new body scrubs. because its so cold and we're usually covering up more during the winter months, its the perfect opportunity to work on and perfect ur body care routine so dont neglect that

♡ buy a nice fuzzy blanket or one of those heated blankets cuz shit gets cold, and we wanna stay as warm and toasty as possible 💕

[archangeldyke-all]

hey!! i love your work and your headcannons about sevika. Can you do one where the reader puts makeup on sevika while she’s sleeping as a prank?

OKAY this is so cute hehehehe

men and minors dni

sevika wears a bit of makeup most days. kohl on her waterline that smudges over time and becomes smoky-- a habit she picked up from all the women in her family. that, and her signature coffee-brown lipstick that tastes like vanilla frosting.

some mornings, you manage to convince her to apply a layer of spf to her face. on date nights, she'll occasionally ask that you groom her brows for her, combing through them with a spoolie and applying a little brow gel, maybe trimming them a little if she needs. but beyond that, sevika's makeup is minimal and simple.

she sits and watches you do your own makeup when she's got the time. it's always fun; she's so encouraging and curious; showering you with compliments, oooh-ing and aaah-ing at all your glittery eyeshadows, handing you brushes and wetting your blending sponges for you.

you've asked her once before if she'd ever let you do her makeup. she had shrugged. "sure. not sure i'd wear it out, though. no offense-- i'm sure you'd make me gorgeous-- it's just..." she trailed off. you chuckled and kissed her cheek, and forgot about the conversation completely.

until now...

sevika fell asleep in bed while watching you play with your makeup. you have nowhere to be-- it's a rainy, cold night out-- you just wanted to be creative.

you sigh at yourself in the mirror as you pat on the finishing touches of your setting powder. you look amazing, obviously, but now you're all done and you're gonna get bored.

sevika snores behind you.

an evil idea starts to form in your head, and you giggle mischievously as you grab your brushes and pallets and tiptoe over to the bed.

sevika's a light sleeper. there are a few times as you do her face where you worry she'll suddenly wake up-- but each time she just grunts, shuffles a bit, and continues snoring.

you go all out. contour, highlighter, color corrector, big glittery purple eyes, giant fluttery lashes, and dark, ruby red lips. by the time you're done, sevika looks a little bit like jessica rabbit.

it's your giggles that end up waking her up.

she scrunches her face as she opens her eyes, then reaches up with a confused look, wondering why her eyelids are so heavy. "wha?" she asks, feeling her false lashes. you cackle.

"don't tug 'em sev, you'll ruin your makeup." you giggle.

sevika blinks up at you, still sleepy and confused. "y' look so pretty." she mumbles. you laugh.

"you like my look?" you ask. she nods, smiling up at you. "you should see yours." you say, gesturing to your little vanity.

sevika frowns and sits up, squinting at her reflection across the room.

then, sevika bursts into big, bright laughs. "oh fuck, look at me!" she cackles, launching out of bed to get closer to the mirror.

you watch in glee as she twists her head side to side, admiring all angles of your handiwork. "do you like it?"

"i look like a fuckin' princess or something!" she giggles. your heart melts at the sweet little poses she's hitting in the mirror as she checks herself out.

"you always look like a princess." you mumble. sevika grins and spins around to face you.

"but now i'm a princess with huge eyelashes." she says, fluttering her eyes at you.

you burst into laughter and pull sevika in for a kiss, not caring in the slightest that you smudge both of your lipsticks.

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@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

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@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb @p1nkearth

taglist!!

@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys @sevikasllver @runawaybaby3

[anything-pov]

request

Emily and Readers child colour in Readers tattoos while they sleep(w/ eyeshadow)

reader wakes up to beautiful art on her body

fluffy domestic blissssss

BANTEr

Enjoy...

The Tattoos ✨

The house was quiet in that soft, golden hour between dawn and morning chaos. Emily padded barefoot through the upstairs hallway, one hand wrapped around a strong black coffee, the other rubbing sleep from her eyes.

She'd already been up for an hour, habit, muscle memory, whatever you'd call it. The quiet was her peace before the world started asking for her brain, her badge and her patience.

But the quiet, as always in a house with a 5 year old, didn't last.

From the master bedroom came a faint whisper of sound. Not crying, not screaming, not the telltale thump of something broken. Just… soft humming.

A gentle, off key version of “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.” Followed by the squeak of what sounded unmistakably like...

“Is that…” Emily whispered to herself, narrowing her eyes as she stepped closer to the cracked door, “… glitter?”

She nudged the door open with her shoulder, peeking in. There, bathed in morning light and surrounded by an explosion of makeup palettes, markers, and god knows what, from Emily’s travel kit, sat Penny.

Their daughter. Five years old, curly haired chaos in a Star Wars onesie, tongue poked between her lips in concentration. She was perched delicately on Emily’s sleeping partner’s hips.

Straddling them like a careful little artist, completely focused on her canvas. And the canvas? Emily’s partner, dead asleep, one arm draped lazily over the blanket, mouth parted softly.

Their bare arms and torso were covered in tattoos, delicate linework, bold color, fluid shapes curling over muscle and soft skin. Or at least, they had been. Now they were… enhanced.

Their koi fish had become a rainbow trout. The celestial snake along their ribs now sported blue glitter eyeliner for eyes and fuchsia contour stripes.

The constellation map across their back had new stars drawn in Crayola. And the sun around their shoulder? Bright pink. Shimmering. And smiling.

Penny dipped a finger in Emily’s eyeshadow, brushing it gently across her parent’s collarbone with reverence, then leaned in and whispered, “You’re a unicorn pirate now.”

That was the moment their partner shifted slightly, brow furrowing, groaning low in their throat. Emily cleared her throat, biting back a laugh.

Their eyes cracked open slowly, pupils adjusting, sleep clinging to their lashes. “… Em?” they croaked, voice gravelly. Emily stepped in, grinning over the rim of her coffee.

“Good morning, Picasso's canvas. How’s your nap?” Her partner blinked, groggily trying to sit up, until they noticed the small human straddling them.

“Don’t move!” Penny ordered with the seriousness only a 5 year old could muster. “I’m not done blending.” Emily couldn’t hold it anymore. She barked a laugh. Her partner groaned again, flopping back onto the pillow.

“Should I even ask?”

“You’ve been… improved,” Emily smirked, setting her coffee down and kneeling beside the bed to press a kiss to their inked shoulder. “She got into my makeup kit. You are, apparently, now a unicorn pirate with a galaxy for a chest.”

Penny beamed. “I gave them galaxy freckles, too.”

“I noticed,” Emily said, brushing some green highlighter off their partner’s cheek with the pad of her thumb. “Honestly? It’s kind of a look.”

Their partner sighed, a sleepy smile finally breaking through. “Remind me why we taught her how to open the drawers?”

“Because she’s brilliant,” Emily replied, running her hand gently over their now shimmering bicep. “And also? Because watching the two of you like this is the best part of my whole damn day.”

Her partner glanced at her, soft eyed despite the glitter in their eyelashes. “You’re the best part of mine.”

“Even with the pirate makeover?”

“Especially with the pirate makeover,” they said, voice warm, gaze drifting to Penny. “She takes after her mom.”

Emily sat back with a sigh, brushing her hand through Penny’s curls. “God help us all.”

[insidekatmind]

In the car-Levi Colwill

Wearning: +18,smut

You’re sitting next to Levi as he drives down the highway, one hand firmly on the wheel and the other resting casually on the gear shift. The late afternoon sun streams through the window, highlighting the sharp contours of his face. His eyes are focused on the road, but there’s something irresistible about that small smile that escapes him as he softly sings along to the song playing on the radio.

You can’t resist. Leaning closer, you brush your fingers lightly against his shoulder. “Levi…” you murmur, but he stays focused on driving.

You smile knowingly, accomplice to your own mischief, aware that your next move will steal the attention you’re after. Moving closer, you press a gentle kiss to his neck. Levi flinches slightly, letting out a deep laugh that seems to resonate within you.

“Hey, princess,” he says, turning briefly to shoot you an amused glance. “You know it’s not safe to distract me while I’m driving, right?”

“I just wanted a little of your attention,” you reply with an innocent smile, though your eyes gleam with mischief.

“Oh, really? And what exactly are you hoping to get?” he asks, his tone a mix of teasing and intrigue.

You smile and take off your seat belt and remove his carefully without distracting him and unbutton his jeans and pull them down along with his boxers.

Levi’s breath hitches at your sudden action, his gaze flickering briefly to you before returning to the road. “What the hell are you doing, babe?” he asks, his voice strained but betraying the beginnings of a smirk. “I’m trying to drive here…” But despite his words, his eyes are now watching you intently, his grip on the steering wheel tightening as he feels your delicate hands on him.

“You think about driving, love,” you say seductively as you take his cock in your hand and stroke it a little. “Oh, trust me…that’s getting harder to do,” he replies, a deep, rough edge creeping into his voice as he struggles to maintain control. The sight of you in the passenger seat, touching him, is almost too much distract him. But he manages to keep his eyes on the road, although his cheeks flush ever so slightly. The engine seems to rev a bit louder as he pushes down on the gas pedal, fighting against the desire to lose himself to you.

You lower your head and start taking it in your mouth. “Jesus, princess…” he mutters in a ragged voice, his knuckles white as he grips the wheel tightly. He can hardly focus on anything other than the feel of your mouth on him, his body tensing with pleasure. Levi lets out a low, guttural sound, his breath hitching in his chest as he tries to keep the car steady. The car swerves slightly, but he quickly corrects it, his jaw clenching as he fights to regain control.

You suck his cock like it's ice cream or a lollipop while taking it all in your mouth. Levi groans shamelessly, letting his head fall back against the headrest briefly. "Fuck..." he mutters between panting breaths. "I can't… I can't focus on anything but you." The car is now online, while Levi struggles to maintain control. His hands tremble slightly on the steering wheel.

Levi stops the car just in time since there was a lot of traffic and rests his head on the seat as he watches you suck his cock. “Damn… you’re gonna cause an accident if you don’t stop,” he mutters, his voice a rough, ragged gasp. But even as he speaks, his body language betrays his pleasure. He leans back against the seat, his chest heaving as he pants with desire.

“You really need to stop distracting me like this, princess… but you just feel too damn good to make you stop,” he growls, his head thudding back softly against the headrest.

At his words you suck him faster while playing with his balls with your right hand while you rest on his thigh with your left. Levi lets out a guttural groan at your action, the sound reverberating through the car like a low, primal rumble. “Oh, christ… you’re really getting me going… so hard to focus on the road when you look so hot… sound so good…”

Levi shifts in his seat, trying to get more comfortable, but all he can feel Is your tongue, your mouth… the car swerves a bit further, drifting into the lane next to it. He curses under his breath, gripping the wheel tighter to straighten it.

“Keep it up like that and we’re not gonna get very far,” he says, a hint of a growl in his voice. He’s doing his best to hold back, to keep focused, but you’re making it damn near impossible. The car drifts a bit again, and he lets out another frustrated curse. “You’re playing with fire, princess.” He says, his words ragged and strained. “When we get home, you’re in big trouble…”

You ignore his threat and continue sucking him and teasing him with your tongue. Levi’s breath hitch’s and he lets out a guttural curse. “Damn… damn, princess… you’re gonna regret teasing me like this.” He’s struggling to keep the car on the road, gripping the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white with tension. “I’m gonna make you pay for this… when we get home,” he says, his voice low and rough with lust and anger, the car swerving erratically. “You won’t be able to walk straight for days when I’m done with you…”

You moan at his words and your moans vibrate on his cock sending a rush of excitement. The sound of your moan vibrates through his body, sending a shiver down his spine and straight to his groin, making him tremble and moan. “Oh my god… you feel so damn good. You know just how to drive me crazy.

The car drifts again but Levi can barely pay attention, his mind filled with images of all the things he'll do to you when they get home. His breathing is heavy, ragged, as he struggles to keep the car upright. Levi’s eyes darkened and he cursed under his breath, struggling to keep the car steady. “You’re really testing my limits right now,” he said, his voice raw with desire. “You shouldn’t push me so far, princess…” But, even as he spoke, the car swerved wider into the oncoming lane, a horn blaring out from another vehicle. “Damn it!” he shouted, yanking the wheel violently back to get himself back in their lane. “You’re playing a dangerous game, you know that?”

Levi sees traffic again and stops and places his hand on your head and quickly guides you through the motions making him moan loudly. He tightens his grip on your head, guiding you to do exactly what he wants, his breath coming out in heavy pants. “Oh, oh… yes…” he moans softly, and then louder, his body arching upwards into you as pleasure surges through him. “That’s it… that’s it… oh, god…” The car is now stopped, idling in the middle of the road, but Levi isn’t concerned about any of that now. All he can think about is you and what you’re doing to him.

Levi mentally thanks that the road is blocked by traffic and moves both of his hands on your head to move faster. Levi moans loudly, no longer worried about being heard or seen. The only thing that matters is the pleasure he’s feeling right now, your mouth and your hands driving him mad. “Oh, god… you’re incredible,” he gasps, his body tensing as he rocks his hips into you. “I’m getting so close… I can’t take much more”

Levi’s breath comes out in heavy, gasps, barely able to speak. “I’m so close,” he moans, his body arching off the seat. “I’m gonna… I’m gonna… oh, god…” His grip on your head becomes almost desperate.

Levi cum down your throat and takes his hands out of your hair. You swallow his sperm and get off him looking at her amused. Your hair was messy, your mascara was running and his come was in your mouth.

Levi leans back against the seat, panting for breath, watching you with a mix of desire and satisfaction. “You are going to be the death of me,” he says, running a hand through his own messy hair. He looks at your face, taking in how disheveled you look, and a low growl escapes his lips. “You look so damn good right now… messy and ruined… just the way I like you…”

You smile and with your finger you sensually wipe Levi's come on your mouth and then you suck your finger without looking away. Levi’s jaw clenches and he bites back a moan, his eyes locking onto your finger in your mouth. “Damn… you really want to drive me crazy, don’t you?” he mutters, his voice low and rough with desire.

He leans forward, grabbing your chin with his hand and pulling you closer to him. “You have no idea the kinds of things I’m going to do to you when we get home… for making me so goddamn crazy on public roads.”

You giggle hearing the horns of the cars behind and you adjust yourself in your seat by putting your seat belt back on and you hum softly as if you hadn't given him a blowjob while he was driving. "Love, be more careful while driving" you say with fake innocence.

Levi’s hands grip the wheel so tightly it seems like it might break. He shoots you a glare, although his eyes are still dark with desire. “Don’t give me that innocent act, princess. You know exactly what you were doing,” he growls. He starts the car up again, trying to focus on the road as horns behind him continue to blare in irritation. “You’re gonna pay for this when we get home, you know that?”

Smile and nod. You had a long day ahead of you.

[gracie-eilish]

morning, her place☀️

an: happy sundayyyyy! here’s a short fluffy blurb to start your day:) i’ve got some time this week so hopefully more of those taylor song fics will be out. and more normal fics too hopefullyyy :))) love ya!💋

☁️☀️💗🥰

The soft morning light peeked through the curtains, casting golden streaks across the room. Billie had woken earlier, quietly slipping out of bed to let the dogs out, making sure not to disturb you. She’d pulled on a cozy hoodie and padded outside in the crisp morning air, shivering as she watched the dogs dart around in the yard. By the time she returned, her cheeks were pink from the chill, and the smell of morning dew clung faintly to her.

She stopped at the doorframe to our bedroom, her breath catching softly as her eyes landed on you. You were still curled up under the covers, but something about the way the sunlight kissed your face made her pause. Your lashes fluttered softly against your cheeks, your breathing steady and gentle, until you began to stir. As the light grew brighter, you squinted, wrinkling your nose and letting out a small, sleepy sigh. Your hand reached out instinctively for warmth before you stretched, arching your back slightly, and then nestled back into your pillow with a contented little smile.

Billie stood there, enchanted, watching you wake up as if it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. The soft golden light bathed your face, highlighting the curves and contours she adored so much. She didn’t move, too captivated by the way you slowly blinked awake, your lips curling into a gentle, dreamy smile when you finally noticed her.

“Hi, baby,” Billie whispered, her voice as soft as the morning light.

You smiled wider, your heart fluttering at the sight of her, cheeks rosy and hair slightly messy from the wind outside. She closed the distance between you in a heartbeat, climbing back into bed with you. The mattress dipped under her weight as she slipped under the fluffy blanket, her chilled hands warming instantly against your skin as she cuddled close, making you squeal at the chill.

She didn’t stop there, though. Billie crawled over you, her body fitting perfectly against yours as she settled on top of you. Her chin rested lightly on your chest, and she began peppering your face with tiny kisses, each one soft and affectionate, making you giggle sleepily.

“You’re so cute,” you murmured, pushing her hair out of her face. Your fingers lingered, cradling her cheeks as your thumb brushed over her freckles. Even in the soft light of morning, Billie was breathtaking. Her chocolate-brown hair fell in messy waves, long enough now that her bangs were starting to drift into her icy blue eyes. Those eyes that held you captive every time you looked at them, filled with so much love and warmth. Her perfect button nose scrunched up slightly as she smiled, and her pillowy pink lips curled into a grin that made you melt on the spot.

“Stop staring,” she teased, her voice still thick with sleep, but there was no hiding the pink tint creeping onto her cheeks.

“Never,” you whispered back, pulling her closer until there wasn’t a breath of space between you. Your arms wrapped around her back, holding her tightly, as if letting go wasn’t an option. She nuzzled into you, her body warm and solid, grounding you in a way that nothing else could. Time slowed down as you stayed there, tangled in each other, the world outside your love bubble forgotten.

After a while, Billie tilted her head back to look at you, her expression soft and a little shy. “Wanna shower with me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her lips pulling into a small, hesitant smile.

She was so irresistibly cute that you couldn’t help yourself—you leaned up to kiss her, your lips brushing against hers with tenderness. “You’re too cute, you know that?” you mumbled against her mouth before giving her a playful squeeze.

Her laugh was warm and low, vibrating through her chest where it pressed against yours. “Is that a yes?” she teased, her smile growing.

“Of course,” you replied, smiling back at her.

Reluctantly, you pulled ourselves out of bed, the cold air making you both shiver as your feet hit the floor. Billie grabbed your hand, leading you toward the bathroom, where the promise of warmth and more time wrapped in each other’s arms awaited. The sound of the water starting to run filled the room, and soon enough, the steam began to rise, wrapping you in a cocoon of comfort.

Together, you stepped into the shower, the hot water cascading over you, washing away the last traces of sleep. Billie wrapped her arms around you from behind, resting her head on your shoulder as the warmth enveloped you both. It was a slow, quiet morning, just the two of you, savoring the simple joys of being together. And in that moment, you couldn’t imagine a better way to start the day.

☁️☀️💗🥰