#fic: heavenly light | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

maysileeewrites · 2 months

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HEAVENLY

Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!reader || 18+, mdni!

Synopsis: It’s this gentle glow, this steady and strong flame within him that you fell in love with, and continue to fall in love with every day. || Or: a glimpse into married life with Jacaerys.

content & warnings: fluff and smut, smut (piv, oral (f), hair pulling, slight praise kink if you squint), established relationship, arranged marriage, light banter, some tooth-rotting fluff as well

masterlist || word count: 3.9k

AN: yes I totally hopped on the Jace hype train, but my man’s just sooo dreamy. I also saw a post pointing out the similarities between him and Robb Stark, and now my love for Jace totally makes sense 😭😭 I loved writing this and I have sooo many ideas for other Jace fics (Robb as well but idk if anyone is still interested in that). Anyways, have fun reading :)

You wake up to warm sunlight streaming through the window, a gentle morning breeze blowing through the room, birds chirping somewhere in the distance. If you really concentrate, you can also hear the gentle lapping of waves against the shore, can smell a faint, salty breeze in the morning air.

You yawn, trying to stretch and to draw the blankets up a bit higher - only to find yourself unable to.

Even fast asleep your husband is still curled around you, his head resting on the crook of your shoulder, his dark curls tickling your neck, his warm, even breaths ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck, causing you to shiver. His legs are still entangled with yours, and one of his hands is still splayed possessively over your stomach, the other resting on your waist.

Your waist - where, if you were able to move and stretch, you’d surely see imprints of his fingers on your skin.

You can’t help it - even just thinking of the previous night’s activities brings a furious blush to your cheeks.

Jacaerys has always been an attentive lover, gentle yet passionate, and last night has been no different.

You bite down hard on your lip, remembering.

The way he’d thrusted up into you while you were sitting in his lap, the fingers of his right hand digging into the skin of your waist, steadying you; while his other hand had been between your thighs, his thumb rubbing soothing circles onto your clit while you moved up and down on his cock.

That had been your third orgasm of the night, and while you already felt overstimulated and exhausted at that point, Jacaerys had seemed to have made it his own personal mission to bring you to ecstasy at least four times that night.

After he’d gotten you to your peak, he kissed you passionately, and then, without having finished himself, he lowered his face between your legs, coaxing your fourth orgasm from you.

By that point, you were a quivering, panting mess. Jacaerys cradled your face lovingly, peppering your skin with gentle kisses.

„You did so well for me, Princess“, he whispered, kissing the corner of your mouth. You smiled exhaustedly, reaching up your hands to wind them around his neck again, drawing him in for another kiss. He shifted, covering your body with his again and you could feel his painfully hard, throbbing length against your stomach, causing you to whine. And though your clit was still swollen and you could already feel a familiar feeling of soreness settling between your legs, there was a familiar heat pooling between your legs yet again.

While he’d already driven you to your peak four times, Jacaerys had only finished twice, and you couldn’t have to that. So, removing one hand from his neck, you reached between your bodies, positioning his hard length between your legs.

„Princess, what-„, Jacaery‘s question was cut off by the loud, broken moan that left you when you felt him sliding back into you, filling you to the brim.

„Fuck, Princess“, Jacaerys moaned, looking down at you. You could see the different emotions he was feeling warring on his face - there was that desire to stay gentle and tender and take care of your needs, but there was something else there as well, something darker, more primal, his own lust, a desire to finally find his pleasure.

And so, you tangled your hands in his hair, tugging and pulling at his dark curls the way you knew always drove him insane.

„More, please“, was all you needed to moan, before Jace groaned, grabbing your legs and hitching them over his shoulder. The new angle allowed him to thrust even deeper and more intensely into you, and soon his thrusts were becoming more and more erratic.

One of your hands moved to his back, nails digging into his skin, leaving a reminder of this moment. Just like his handprints on your waist.

And the permanent imprint he’d left on your heart, the moment you made your vows to each other.

It didn’t take long for either of you to reach your peak.

Afterwards, Jacaerys scooped you up in his arms, leaving gentle kisses on your skin, his fingers stroking over your skin gently, his touch once again feather-light.

You close your eyes, a small smile on your lips, as slow, gentle kisses on your neck bring you back to the present moment.

„Morning, Princess“, Jacaerys says, his voice still thick with sleep.

„You’re tense …“, he comments only a moment later, his hand leaving your waist and reaching up to intertwine with yours.

You feel a blush creep up on your cheeks, which is ridiculous, considering everything that happened last night. Or the night before.

Or the night before that.

Any night since you and Jacaerys have been married, really. It’s only been a few months, but still - you always find yourself looking forward to the nights. And the mornings, and sometimes, if you find the time for it, the afternoons as well.

Before, when you were younger, you’d never imagined that marriage could be like this. You’d heard the stories whispered between some of the older maids, had seen the cold, distant way your parents always interacted with each other.

And so, when your parents first told you of your betrothal to Jacaerys Velaryon - the first child and heir of Princess Rhaenyra, a rumored bastard- just a few weeks after your eleventh name day, you’d been terrified.

You were even more terrified when you first met your betrothed two years later, on the feast that was thrown in honor of your thirteenth name day.

Later, after you were married, Jace had confessed to you that he’d initially thought that you hated him, because you almost didn’t speak to him for the entire evening. Which was true, but you also told Jace that back then, you’d simply been terrified, anxious. Shy and nervous and about to crack under the pressure your parents had put on you, telling you that it was imperative that you left a perfect impression on the royal family.

You’d slipped away from the festivities the first chance you got, after an incredibly awkward dance with Jacaerys. You were so caught up in your own thoughts that you didn’t even notice the young prince following you, until he made his presence known.

„I’m sorry, I know I’m a terrible dancer-“

A loud shriek escaped you and you turned around to face him. There he was, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, looking at you uncertainly and with a tender shyness on his expression.

„I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you - I - I only wanted to make sure that you were alright …“

You nodded slowly, tucking a stray strand of hair that had escaped your hairdo behind your ear.

This conversation wasn’t what you’d been expecting, not at all. You certainly hadn’t counted on him even noticing that something was wrong, yet alone following you to make sure that you were alright. Earlier that day and night, conversation between you two had been stiff and awkward, with neither of you quite knowing what to say to each other, and always someone from either of your families lurking around in the background.

But this was different and this was the moment you slowly started to realize that maybe Jacaerys Velaroyn wasn’t all that bad.

So, you found yourself taking a tentative step towards him. „I - I am now, I - thank you, Your Grace.“

„Jacaerys - it’s Jace, if you like“, he corrected you gently, also taking a tentative step towards you, before holding out his hand. „Friends?“

You nodded, feeling a small smile tug at the corners of your lips. „Friends.“

You and Jacaerys hadn’t seen much of each other after your name day celebrations, but only a few days later, you received the first raven he ever sent you.

Since then, you two had been writing to each other constantly, sometimes sending three or even more ravens during a fortnight. And though you only continued to see him for very few occasions - his or your nameday celebrations, the royal wedding of Prince Aegon and his sister Helaena, the Queen Rhaenyra’s coronation -, you found yourself looking forward to these occasions more and more. He was your best friend, and with the years passing, the space he occupied in your heart only grew more and more.

And so, when a few weeks after your eighteenth nameday, your wedding was finally held, it was entirely different than what you’d been imagining it to be as a little child.

You weren’t afraid or terrified, not in the slightest. No, you were excited and happy, and if Jace is to be believed, you were glowing with joy the whole day through.

„Princess?“, Jacaery’s voice, now sounding concerned, draws you out of your thoughts yet again, and so you turn around, until you’re facing him.

You squeeze his hand, reaching up with your other hand to touch his cheek, unable to fight the warm smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

Jacaerys returns your smile and you feel your heart skip a beat. When Jace smiles, really smiles, it’s as if his whole face is lightning up. There’s a gentle glow in his warm brown eyes, calming and reassuring.

It’s this gentle glow, this steady and strong flame in him that you fell in love with, and continue to fall in love with every day.

„What’re you thinking about, love?“, Jace asks you, his hand squeezing yours, his other hand leaving your waist and reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

You smile, leaning into his touch. You don’t answer his question, not with words, at least. Instead, you just lean forward, gently pressing your lips to his, hoping to convey all the emotions you’re currently feeling through your kiss.

It seems to be working, because when you break apart a moment later, there’s a soft smile on Jacaerys’ lips and that warm glow in his eyes.

„I love you“, you say, before reaching for him again, connecting your lips again. He sighs, shifting, until his arm is at your waist again. Your hands find their way to his neck, one hand tugging at the curls at his nape.

For a while, the kiss stays tender and slow and loving. But then you shift, trying to find a position that’s a bit more comfortable for you, completely forgetting that your legs are still entangled with Jacaerys’. You end up drawing him even closer to you, until there’s no space left between you two, his body covering your own.

His grip on your waist tightens and he uses his other hand to support himself, drawing himself up a bit as to not crush you completely under his weight. This new position allows Jace to bunch up the fabric of your nightgown, slipping his fingers under the thin fabric, until his fingertips are stroking over the bare skin of your waist.

You sigh contentedly, locking your legs around his waist - and pause, wincing. What before was only a slight feeling of discomfort has now turned into an intense, unpleasant burning between your legs. You feel incredibly sore and you can only imagine how hard it will be today, walking around with this unpleasant soreness between your legs, trying not to wince at every step.

„Princess?“, Jace who’s noticed that something’s wrong, asks you, concern lacing his voice. His warm brown eyes find yours and in them you see his worry and concern for you.

You shake your head, trying to smile. „It’s nothing“, you say, trying to wave away his concern.

„No“, Jace says, shaking his head. His hand leaves your waist, gently cradling your cheek instead. „No, I know it’s not nothing, love.“

You sigh. „Well, it’s nothing important.“

„Princes“, Jace says, his gaze still holding yours, „please - you can tell me.“

You close your eyes briefly, trying to fight of the blush that’s threatening to creep onto your cheeks. Really, all things considered, it’s so stupid to be embarrassed to admit to something like this, when you’ve already shared so much with your husband.

You sigh, opening your eyes again, finding Jace still looking at you with worry in his expression. „It’s nothing, really, I - I’m just - I’m just a bit sore after last night …“, you say, feeling your cheeks blush a furious red. Great, now you probably look like an overly ripe tomato.

As if that weren’t already bad enough, Jacaerys’ puzzled expression really has you wishing to die from embarrassment, if only for a short moment.

„Oh - oh …“, Jacaerys says, a bit sheepishly, his hand leaving your waist, drawing himself up, but you stop him by reaching out a hand and touching his forearm.

„Jace, it’s fine, really-“

„I didn’t - I didn’t mean to hurt you“, he says, genuine concern in his voice.

You squeeze his shoulder. „Jace, you didn’t hurt me.“

„But-“

„Jace, this happens. It’s normal, really.“

„Wait, do you mean - is it always like this for you?“

You shake your head. „Not always … last night was - intense …“

You don’t even know how that’s possible, but your cheeks seem to be getting even hotter. But when you look up at Jacaerys, you see his cheeks growing rather pink as well, and somehow, that brings a small smile to your lips.

„I didn’t mean to - I’m sorry, I - is there anything I can do to make it better for you?“, Jace asks you, fingertips softly stroking the skin of your cheek.

„I-“, you start to say, at the same moment that Jace says: „I have an idea.“

You laugh quietly and you’re relieved when you see a shy smile on his lips as well.

„I - will you let me - do you trust me?“, Jace asks you and you smile.

„Always.“

Jace nods, returning your smile. „Good. Lie back, try to relax. And do tell me if something I do is hurting you at all, please?“

You nod, lying back down on the sheets. Jace watches you with a small smile on his face. Then, he lifts himself off of you, and you almost protest when you don’t feel the reassuring weight of his body anymore, but as if he’s sensed the direction of your thoughts, his lips find yours again in a featherlight, tender kiss.

The kiss is soft and sweet, and for a moment, you find yourself thinking that it’s almost a bit too innocent and gentle, but then Jace slowly deepens the kiss and one of his hands moves to your collarbone, the touch of his fingertips featherlight on your skin.

As the kiss turns deeper and more sensual, his tongue coaxing your mouth open, his fingertips start exploring your skin, slowly, but surely moving downwards.

Your collarbone.

Your sternum. His fingertips stay there for a moment, drawing circles on your skin and you find your heart beating faster in anticipation. Then, as Jace breaks the kiss, only to attach his lips to the spot on your neck that he know always drives you nearly insane, his fingertips finally move lower to the valley between your breasts.

Your breath hitches and you swear that you can feel Jacaerys smirking. He can be such a tease-

Then, the fabric of your nightgown is shoved aside rather unceremoniously. You shudder, because at the same moment that Jace’s fingertips move to your breasts, cupping the tender skin, his lips start suckling at the spot on your neck and then you can feel his teeth lightly graze over your skin and you’re sure that he’s going to leave a mark, a purple love bite that will be hard to cover up and conceal - joining two other ones that are slowly starting to fade - but you find that you don’t care, not at all.

All that you can think about is that you want, no need, more. More of Jacaerys. More of his hands and lips on your skin, more of that blissful tension.

„Jace, please“, you say, your voice breathless. His lips leave your neck then and he looks up at you, desire clear and tangible in his gaze.

A look passes between you and Jacaerys seems to understand exactly what you need without you having to say a single word. His hands leave your waist and breasts briefly, to take off your nightgown.

Now, you’re completely bare before him, while he’s still in one of the soft linen shift he always wears in bed.

„Gods, you’re so beautiful“, he whispers, awe and adoration in his voice.

Then, he leans in towards you again and you think that he’s going to kiss you, but instead, his head moves between your breasts and he takes one of your nipples in his mouth, while his left hand starts playing with the nipple of your other breast.

You moan, squirming.

At that, Jace looks up at you, mouth still attached to your breast and you can’t help but let out another loud moan. You’re so dizzy and driven by desire that you only notice Jace’s other hand start to move lower, when you feel his fingertips lightly brushing over your core.

„Jace, oh gods-“ Your voice is breathy and full of want, and once again Jace gives you exactly what you need, his fingertips moving lightly over your core, his other hand playing with your breasts, as his lips continue to move lower and lower and lower.

He leaves soft, featherlight kisses on your breasts, your stomach, the inner sides of your thighs. Your breath hitches and you feel your heart beat faster and faster as Jace peppers more and more kisses, moving closer and closer to where you really need to feel him.

There’s a burning ache beside you, a fire and his touches are stoking its flames. Feeling his fingertips move lightly over your core isn’t enough, you need more, you need to really, truly feel him.

Your hands move on their own accord, coming to settle in his dark curls, softly tugging at his hair to get his attention.

Jace looks up at you then, his dark brown eyes slightly glassy. His lips are red and swollen and his cheeks are red, but he still looks absolutely angelic. Heavenly.

„Jace, please“, you breathe, you voice shaky and barely more than a whisper.

You think you see him smirk at your words, but then you can’t think straight anymore, because he lowers his head again and then his lips are right there where you so desperately crave them. His hand has moved and he’s now pressing his thumb against your bundle of nerves, steadily applying pressure while leaves soft, featherlight kisses on your core.

He’s teasing you again, something he really, really likes to do. And though normally you enjoy him teasing you quite a bit, right now, you’re desperate. And so, you tug at his curls just a bit more stronger, trying to convey your desperate needs to him that way.

At first, you think that he’s just going to continue teasing you, but then, suddenly, you feel his tongue licking over your slit, before delving between your folds.

Your unconsciously tighten your grip on his hair, squirming, panting.

It just feels so good, too good. Jace’s tongue continuing to delve between your folds, nearing that sweet spot that always has your vision go hazy, his thumb continuing to press against your bundle of nerves, his other hand still between your breasts, alternating between rolling your nipples between his fingers and roaming over your tender skin.

You’re panting now, quivering and moaning, tugging at Jace’s dark curls with abandon. Dimly, you worry about tugging too hard, maybe even hurting him, but the quiet, satisfied noises that leave him tell you a different story. And so, you don’t loosen your grip, steadying yourself with your hands in his hair.

Then his tongue reaches that sweet spot inside you that has your vision go hazy and you moan loudly.

Two of his fingers enter you as well then, and he keeps finding that sweet spot repeatedly with his tongue, all the while circling his fingers and keeping pressure on your bundle of nerves with his tongue.

You’re getting closer, you can feel it. The fire in your is building and building and building. One of your hands leaves his hair, blindly reaching for Jace’s free hands. He meets you halfway, lacing your fingers together and squeezing your hand. Steadying you.

„Jace, oh gods, I-“, you moan, panting and quivering as Jace’s tongue and fingers continue to move in and out of you. His pace gets faster, the pressure a bit more intense and then, fire consumes you.

You moan his name loudly, your back arching off the bed.

An intense, dizzying wave of pleasure crashes over you, threatening to drown you.

Jacaerys guides you along through it all, taking everything you give him - the desperate tug on his curls, the harsh squeeze of his hand, your legs pressing closer.

He takes it, takes everything. Your pleasure is his, and his is yours.

You burn, together.

You squeeze your eyes shot, drowning in this intense pleasure, breath heavy and panting.

After a few moments, your breathing has returned to normal, and you blindly reach for Jacaerys, drawing him up towards you. Your hands wind around his neck, and you draw him in for a kiss. It’s messy, a bit of your slick still connected to his lips and you can still taste yourself on his lips, but you don’t care.

You try to convey everything you feel through your kiss, but it’s not enough and so you break away, still panting heavily. „I love you - gods, I love you so much.“

There’s that glow in Jace’s eyes again and you move one of your hands to cup his cheek. „I love you, Jacaerys Velaryon“, you say, before connecting your lips to his again.

This kiss is slow and tender, and not rushed at all, instead full of emotion.

When he breaks away, Jace rests his forehead against yours, his warm breath ghosting over your skin. „I love you, Princess.“

You smile, kissing him once again, before snuggling up next to him, resting your head on the crook of his shoulder. He reaches out one arm, splaying it over your stomach, drawing you closer.

It only occurs to you then, lying so close to him. You look up at him. „What about you, Jace?“

He frowns slightly. „What?“

You feel yourself blushing. „Do you want me to-“

„No“, he quickly rushes to interrupt you. When he notices your confused expression, one of his hands finds yours, squeezing it. „It’s not that I don’t want to - I do, really, just … I wanted to make you feel good. And besides … I - I … I uh … I already finished …“ The last part is said so quietly that you almost don’t understand it. But then you notice his cheeks growing rather pink and you smile fondly, squeezing his hand.

You leave a soft kiss on his shoulder, before sitting up, supporting your weight on your elbow. With your free hand, you reach for his face, tucking a stray curl back behind his ear, before leaning in to kiss him again.

„I love you, Jace.“

He smiles, resting his forehead against yours.

„I love you, Princess.“

Thank you so much for reading! <3 my requests for Jace are currently open 🤭

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qlossytbh · 3 months

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𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 - 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐛𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 in which you and spencer almost say i love you four times and one time where you actually do.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 16+ minors dni!, fem!reader, established relationship, spencer is down bad, so is reader tho, idiots in love, they’re both lowkey rlly hormonal bro, pet names (love, handsome), this one’s a rollercoaster, fluff, angst, lots of suggestiveness because reader likes to tease lol, allusions to smut (didn’t actually write it tho sorry!) fighting, spencer kinda acts like a bitch, makeoutshesh, mentions of reader being insecure of her physical appearance, mentions of typical cm content, mentions of blood, mentions of reader getting hurt, protective!spencer, derek and reader have a cute friendship, lots of mentions of maeve so spoilers on that end, pls let me know if i forgot anything!!!,

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 8.1k (damn)

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 so i had many cute loose concepts and i kinda meshed it all into one fic. this is also loosely based on birds of a feather by billie eilish! im in love with this piece ugh

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The first time

“You look different,” Derek mumbled, mostly to himself, but loud enough to catch on. You turned towards his voice. The only thing different was that Hotch had let you come in later than your usual schedule since you had a random doctor's appointment— Oh, and the recently purchased light-blue button up you were wearing.

Your brows furrowed at Derek, one hand adjusting the strap of the purse that hung loosely on your shoulder as a light brown bag sat comfortably in the other. “Different..?”

Emily followed Derek, joining in as she glanced over at you from her own respective desk. “Actually he’s right,”

“I’m wearing a new shirt..?” You fiddled with the first button of your shirt, pursing your lips in bewilderment.

“No—“ Emily squinted at you. “It’s something else..”

Your mouth hung slightly open, not really sure how to respond to their prying eyes. They both were glancing at you, then at each other, then you again, but this time up and down—

“I hope it’s a good difference,” You commented as you waltzed past them and towards your boyfriend's desk. Spencer was hunched over at his desk, eyes practically burning holes into the files that sat in front of him.

His lips were pursed familiarly, just like he always did when he was so concentrated, along with the familiar furrow in his brow. His hair was tousled, a strand or two falling flat in front of his forehead. He looked so good it made you dizzy.

An instinctive smile had already reached your face once you made it to his desk. You leaned over him, slapping the brown bag on top of the files he was reading. He flinched slightly, but nevertheless, was finally pulled out of his deep concentration pool. You placed your palms on his shoulders, running them down his chest as you leaned over to hug him from behind.

You placed a kiss underneath his ear. “Hi handsome,”

He sank in his desk, realizing it was only just you and immediately easing. He hummed placidly, entranced by the sound of your sickeningly sweet voice. You pulled away to which he took the opportunity to glance over his shoulder at you.

You gave him a soft smile, one you used that made his heart soar. How your eyes grew lenient and lips curved gently upwards as you scanned as much of his features as your brain could possibly take in.

You placed both hands on his shoulder and nudged your chin towards the bag. “Brought you your favorite,”

His hands were already on the bag before you could say anything else and when he looked inside he was in fact correct on his suspicions when he saw two chocolate sprinkled doughnuts.

They smelled heavenly and he knew they were enough to cure his very major and very much present sweet tooth he had woken up with this morning. A large uncontrollable smile slapped right onto his face as he opened his mouth. “I—“

He stopped, clamping his mouth shut abruptly.

Thank god. He swallowed those three words that had nearly left his mouth, pushing them right back into the back of his throat before the damage could be done.

It wouldn’t necessarily be the first time this week where he let the confession accidentally slip. He realized that as of recently, he would catch himself with more and more of a necessity to tell you how he felt.

The two of you started seeing each other romantically about six months back. It was completely out of nowhere when he asked you out for the first time. The second— and third, and fourth and continuing times after were more than expected.

It didn’t take much for the two of you to realize how much of an importance the other partook in your day to day basis, even despite being friends for so long prior to the dating.

And everyday he saw you he felt this big tightening in his chest that made it actually impossible for him to breathe. He felt all this pent up emotion that was getting harder for him to manage with every passing day.

It scared him, how much he cared about you. How much he wanted you to be a part of his everyday life and how much he wanted to tell you how it made him feel— how you made him feel.

But that fear was exactly the reason why he’d clamp his mouth shut every single time he felt like he wanted to tell you.

“I—uhm,” He cleared his throat. “Thank you, really I—“

You watched him, titling your head to the side with a prying gaze. “Have I ever told you how amazingly perfect you are?”

You purse your lips, leaning over his shoulder and pretending to be deep in thought. “I’m not sure— I think you’re gonna need to jog up my memory.”

He shook his head, huffing a laugh as you leaned down and pressing a long kiss onto his lips. You hummed in contentment, feeling the fuzziness in your chest reach every nerve in your body.

“Hey,” You pulled away, glaring over at Derek from Spencer’s desk. “Calm your hormones or I’m telling Hotch to hit HR up,”

“Actually hormones aren’t something you can consciously control, they’re a biological response to situations we find—“ Spencer quipped, earning a loud groan from Morgan.

You rolled your eyes, looking down at Spencer and reaching a hand up, running it ploddingly through his thick brown curls. “Are you coming over tonight?”

He nodded. ��Yeah,”

“Looking forward to it,” You pecked his lips once more. Before rounding his desk and making a b-line for your own.

Spencer scanned you up and down as you waltzed away, not realizing you were wearing the shirt you bought last weekend. The one that enhanced the beauty of your hair and skin color, mapping a perfect picture he wanted to get lost looking at. He also couldn’t fail to avoid the way the shirt deliciously hugged every curve and bump your body had to offer. And those dress pants—

He squeezed his eyes shut, groaning internally. He then thumped his forehead onto his desk, cheeks blazing with heat, knowing he was more screwed than anyone in this whole building, a lost cause if you will.

As you strutted past Derek and Emily’s desk towards your own, Emily gasped loudly. “I think I finally got it,”

“Yeah, I completely agree with you,” Derek followed. You looked at them both quizzically.

“Could it be?— No,” Emily gasped once again and you immediately noticed that it was fake, alarming you of whatever game they were getting at.

“Yeah, I think it’s finally happened.” Derek leaned back in his chair, clicking his tongue and smirking over at you. “Pretty girl here is in love,”

Your cheeks turned hot, as your eyebrows shot up defensively. “What?”

Derek liked to say the two of you were still in your ‘honeymoon phase’ and you couldn’t disagree with him— it was the most accurate description of your relationship with Spencer.

But saying in love triggered something— physically and emotionally.

“No wonder she looks so different,” Emily tutted. “She’s got that ‘happy in love’ glow to her.”

“Shut up,” You have the strap of your purse on a death grip as you opened your mouth to protest but failed miserably as all the words died in the back of your throat. Thank god Spencer seemed preoccupied with the donut you had just given him.

“I’m—“ You shuffled, slapping yourself internally. Way to give it away. “You guys need to find a better hobby.”

And with blazing cheeks, a dry throat and a concerning pattering heart blaring against your throat, you stalked your way back to your desk.

The second time

“But that isn’t fair Spencer!” You groaned, gripping your bag as if your life depended on it. “You can’t expect to save everyone and then blame yourself when it doesn’t go well,”

There had been a sensitive case today, clearly an unsuccessful one. Spencer, like usual, jumped at the first opportunity to start blaming himself— for not being quicker, for not being smarter.. Whatever reason he could nitpick at, he was currently doing so.

You tore your purse off your body and tossed it into a small basket by your front door. You roughly tore your heels off, slightly relieved at the feeling off the palms of your feet on the wooden floor.

“There were flaws in the profile— flaws in the geographical profile,” He huffed, frustrated, filling every fiber of his words. He tore his satchel off his body, grabbing his files from it prior and slapping them onto your coffee table. “We couldn’t even correctly pinpoint the Unsubs M.O before he started sadistically killing again, we couldn’t—“

You felt for him, you truly did. Spencer was one of the most kind hearted, considerate people you knew, but that came with a lot of self-demands. He had to be everything at once, and be there for everyone at once and if he didn’t reach the bar he’d set up for himself, this would happen.

He pushed past you and towards your kitchen. “Spence, we aren’t going to solve every case, no matter how good our work may be.”

“You think I don’t know that? The average percent of homicides cleared or "solved" is 60 to 65 but around 35 to 40 percent go unsolved.” You opened your fridge, grabbing a pitcher of water and grabbing a glass from your cabinet as you listened to Spencer.

“35 to 40 percent, do you know how high that is?!” He stressed. You realized his irritation was heavy because he was reaching his peak of rambling.

Spencer just couldn’t stand when things like this happened. When people did horrible things and got the luxury of roaming free— he couldn’t help but feel like he was at fault for that. If he was just quicker, or smarter maybe they would’ve caught whatever bastard was terrorizing people.

“I know you know that!” You huffed a breath of frustration. “But that’s the way this job works Spence!”

“What would you know about how this job works?” He turned, hot on his heels, facing you with an indescribable exasperation pooling around his eyes.

You stopped in your tracks, looking up at him sharply and setting the still empty glass of water and pitcher back onto the table “What’s that supposed to mean?”

His eyes were deeply upset— cold and hard and so much different from the soft and welcoming gaze of your partner. “You wouldn’t know the first thing about being a profiler. You joined the team around three years after the rest of us.”

You stared at him with incredulity. When in a relationship with somebody, as well as learning all of their admirable virtues, you also learn their defects. And one of Spencer’s defects was that he had no filter whatsoever when he got angry. He just said the first thing that came to mind and spit it out and towards whichever person was unlucky enough to fall victim.

Not that the two of you fought often because you quite literally never did— but you’d see him pissed at people and his petty side sometimes felt the need to make an appearance.

You, however, had never had to experience this firsthand. You’d seen it happen at work, with JJ, with Derek, with the press. But two of you had never spoken to each other the way you were doing now. And if he thought you were gonna let him slide, he’s got another thing coming.

“What about Rossi?” You challenged as you crossed your arms across your chest. “I was accepted into the team just months after he was, you’re gonna tell him he wouldn’t know the first thing about being a profiler?”

“That’s different—“

“How?” Your veins were pumping with adrenaline. Your fingers shook violently, and the back of your throat suddenly burned with the need to cry. “I had jobs before getting called into the BAU, and I busted my ass off in college—“

“It’s not the same!” He spat. “You had never worked with the team before, it took you months to learn how we processed things, how we handled them.”

You could visually see Spencer bite down on his tongue only now attempting to reel himself down back to earth. And if you didn’t know him better, you wouldn’t be able to recognize the identifiable regret that appeared in his eyes while you continued on.

“And who are you to hold that against me Spencer?”

He swallowed thickly and let out a heavy sigh. You ran a frustrated hand through your curled hair. “All i’m saying is that—“

“I know what this job is like, which is why I’m telling you to get out of your goddamn head.” You didn’t scream at him, but there was a firmness in your voice that could scare practically anyone off.

“The things that have happened, happened today or will happen are never going to be in our control,” You told him. “Never.”

“Just because you’re angry and pissed does not give you a free card to attack me,” You slammed the glass cup onto the counter and pushed past him, making your way out of the kitchen. Spencer didn’t follow you to your room, he knew it wasn’t a smart idea.

So as your bedroom door slammed shut, he stalked over to your couch, opening up the paper files onto your coffee table, and rerunning them once again. He wasn’t able to concentrate at all though, knowing you were in the other room tossed in bed and probably crying because of him.

A few long hours later, Spencer closed his files and looked over towards your door. There had been no noise emitted whatsoever from your room, which he wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or worse.

He felt like an idiot. Presumably so, he was so stupid for just lashing out like that on you. Your intentions were never ill intended, yet he still pushed you away and he hated himself for that.

He stood up, making his way into your kitchen and grabbing the empty glass. He poured some water into it and went over to your door.

You were lying down, blankets wrapped around you protectively as your back faced him. He couldn’t help but smile, feeling the endearment tighten in his chest.

You stirred in your sleep as the bed sunk beside you, groaning softly. Spencer hovered over you, setting down the glass of water on the nightstand beside your head.

“Hey,” His voice was very soft, maybe even enough to send you back into the nap you were in— until you remembered what had happened earlier and thought that maybe talking to him was a better idea.

Your eyes burned and your head hurt. You sniffed away the buildup that the crying had caused. You then blinked away the grogginess from your eyes, along with the slight burning sensation due to the tears you had shed earlier. “Hey,”

Your sleepy voice was enough to send Spencer into a whirlwind. It tugged at the strings of his heart and all he wanted to do right now was grab you in his arms and hold you there forever.

He laid on his side beside you, running a soft hand across your arm with the encouragement for you to turn around and face him.

A slight sense of anxiety was coursing through him. He was scared that a part of you was still mad at the way he spoke to you, and the worst part was that he couldn’t blame you, because he had in fact acted like an idiot.

You blinked up at him from over your shoulder. “What time is it?”

“Around nine?” You hummed, flipping on your side and turning to face him. Spencer slapped at the nerves inside him and shifted slightly in his position.

“Hey,” He reached his hand over to yours and intertwined his fingers with your own. “Were you crying?”

“Yeah,” His tone hadn’t been patronizing or ridicule intended, it was more so concerned. You reached up to rub your eye.“You were pretty fucking mean.”

Spencer wanted to kick himself. Truly. There wasn’t anything else to say but how utterly stupid he had been for causing you any type of harm when his main promise was to prevent you from any of it.

“You should drink some water,” He lifted himself up by his elbow, hovering over you again and reaching for the glass.

“I’m not thirsty,” You mumbled, snuggling closer into your pillow.

“You should still drink love, you haven’t had a single drop of water since we got here and you’re probably dehydrated,” You didn’t look at him. “I added those watermelon electrolytes you like so much.”

You peered at the glass, suddenly feeling deathly thirsty. With a huff, you reached for the glass. “Fine,”

You downed the whole drink in a matter of seconds, melting at the taste of the sweet watermelon tartness on your tongue. Once you finished the glass, you handed it back to Spencer who set it on the opposite nightstand.

“Can we talk?” You nodded. “I’m sorry,”

You looked up at him, opting him to continue. “I shouldn’t have snapped the way I did. You were trying to help me, and by attempting to push you away I said stuff I really, really shouldn’t have and I’m so sorry,”

With a few seconds of silence, you reached down, intertwining both of your hands. Your thumb glided over his knuckles as you listened to him.

You mumbled. “It’s okay Spence,”

He shook his head. “It’s not, honestly. I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way I did.”

Yeah, good point.

“I know,” You squeezed his hand reassuringly. “But you said that you're sorry and next time we’ll learn how to manage these things a little more efficiently.”

You quickly pulled his arm over your body and scooted forward, too tired to dwell in an emotionally exhausting conversation, nuzzling your face into his neck while his arms instinctively tightened around your frame. “We’ll get the hang of this, okay?”

There was silence after that. One that could’ve been filled by anything, honestly.

Those three words were all you wanted to say right then and there. It had been on your mind a lot recently, how Spencer was making you feel a ton of scary and big and complicated feelings— all amazing but terrifying. And those three words felt the most accurate when it came to telling him how you felt about him.

You really wanted to tell him at that moment. You don’t know where the necessity came from but it hit you like a tidal wave. Strong and capricious. Uncontrollable almost.

But then the fear settled in and you’d obstruct yourself from doing so.

So you didn’t say it, even though you may have wanted to.

Instead you just held him tighter and nuzzled into him as close as you physically could, hoping that somehow the message would get across. He placed a kiss onto the crown of your head. “Okay.”

The third time

You smiled into the kiss, tugging at his hair as you leaned back, supporting yourself solely on his grip around your lower back. Your legs rested on either side of him, sitting in his lap while his hands raked across your back in a way that made you feverish.

His lips moved swiftly across yours. He squeezed your hips, fingertips slipping just slightly underneath your shirt. You shivered at the contrast of his cold fingertips against your blazing skin. Spencer pulled away, voice breathy. “Is this okay..?”

“Yes,” You whispered back before pulling him onto your lips again.

Your relationship with Spencer was something that made your heart feel so light and airy— something so pure and easy. It made you grow dizzy just thinking about his hands on you and all the sweet things he’d whisper in your ear constantly. How he was always so considerate and sweet and perfect.

You were staying the night at Spencer’s apartment, too tired to drive back to your own apartment after work. But some things lead to others and well— yeah.

When having to restrain so much physical contact at work, strictly wanting to remain as professional as possible, you could merely blame yourself for needing him like this once back at eithers apartment.

You hummed against his lips, raking your hands slowly through his hair. The kissing hadn’t stopped for the past half hour or so— honestly you lost track of time.

Spencer pulled away breathlessly and placed a few messy but calculated kisses on your jaw and neck. You smiled almost stupidly. He pulled away, looking at your dozy face and feeling his chest tighten.

Your lips were slightly pinker than usual, and puffier. Your hair was just slightly tousled while your cheeks glowed a beautiful red hue. Your fingers remained tangled in the locks of his curls.

“You look pretty,” He was saying that as if it was another one of his scientifically proven facts, as if no one could say or believe otherwise. You tucked a small curl that had slipped onto the side of his face behind his ear, humming passingly. However, you never found his eyes, only focusing now on the curls that sat comfortably framing his face.

Spencer’s eyes narrowed, fiddling with the hem of your loose shirt. “You do that often,”

You look down at him, questioning him with a hum. “Do what?”

“Overlook the things I say when I compliment you,” He remarked. “Like you don’t believe me.”

You still didn’t move your attention from his curls. You didn’t believe him most of the time.

You weren’t an insecure person, not entirely anyways. You put a lot of focus on your physical appearance, always maintaining your clean look intact to the public eye. To many, you were considered extremely attractive. But unlike popular belief, you had many insecurities that you always tried to overlook. Sometimes it was hard though.

It was just hard for you to understand how he saw you so perfectly, like you had not a single flaw. ‘Beautiful’ and ‘breathtaking’, just like he always says when he sees you at work or back at your apartments. How he’s able to litter you with a million compliments

“I don’t overlook your compliments,” You let out an airy laugh, pulling back slightly to look at him properly, hands resting on his shoulders.

“Yes, you do.”

“I don’t..!” You laughed, cupping his cheeks and pulling him into a long kiss. He drew away, only by a few centimeters, desperately trying to get his point across because god forbid Spencer keep his thoughts to himself.

“You’re deflecting,” He whispered over your lips before you laid another feather-like kiss into his lips. You hummed dismissively, assuring him that you weren’t avoiding anything.

But god, if you didn’t stop kissing him so softly and so painfully slowly, if you didn’t stop shifting around on his lap the way you were and if you didn’t stop your hands from wandering their way across his shoulders and chest— he was going to have a hard time remaining composed.

“You’re—“ A kiss.

“trying to—“ Another kiss.

“distract me,” It was as if you were a magnet he was so desperately trying to detach himself from, but failing miserably. Gravity itself pulled him towards you, he couldn’t help nor control it. He couldn’t blame himself either.

“Is it working?” You whispered, voice dangerously close to a taunt. Your hands began fiddling with the buttons of his dress shirt, popping the first two undone.

Spencer found himself growing dizzy as his hands dug into your hips. “Unfortunately,”

You kissed his jaw, and Spencer let out a stifled groan. With the willpower of the gods themselves, he reached up and grabbed your hands into his own, stopping their mission at undoing his shirts buttons. You pouted with a glare, pulling away from him as his thumb gilded affectionately across your knuckles.

“So wait,” You pulled back. “Is this your way of saying you don’t want to sleep with me.?”

Spencer choked. “What?— No!”

Spencer groaned as you stifled a giggle. Oh, how you loved teasing and getting him all flustered. “That’s not— No.”

You tilted your head. His hands rested on your hips, as he sighed looking up at you. “Do you know how beautiful you are?”

You blushed. “You tell me often,”

“I know you’re beautiful,” He shook his head and sat up, trailing his hands across your back. “Do you?”

“People tell me often,” You smirked and when he glared at you all you could do was kiss it off him. “But I only like hearing it from you,”

“I asked you something,” He let out.

“Sort of,” You admitted meekly, finally responding to his question. His hands came back to the hem of your t-shirt, tugging at it as his lips found yours again.

“You’re probably the most beautiful person I know,” He whispered above your lips matter of factly.

“Probably..?”

“Definitely,” His hands gripped at the plush flesh of your hips in a way that was making you want to fall to the ground and melt into a puddle of goop. It was so gentle yet there was a specific urgency to it.

He pulled away, kissing your cheek immediately after. “You’re also so smart and kind,”

He kisses traveled across your cheek, to your temple, towards your jaw and that damn spot on your neck that he knew drove you crazy. All while whispering sweet nothings into your ear. Your witt was slowly melting away with any trace of self control you had left in you as you closed your eyes, arching yourself into his addictive touch. ”And funny,”

“Spence..” You warned.

“Can’t believe you’re mine,” He looked back at you, reaching up and cupping your cheek in his hand. “I—“

His words failed him as they whipped all the way back into his throat, daring not to leave his mouth. He wanted nothing more than to say it, there wasn’t anything else he wanted to say to you, because no matter how much he’d wash you in compliments, those three words were the closest thing to allowing you to understand just how much you truly meant to him— hell, it didn’t even feel like enough sometimes.

And that scared the shit out of him.

Which is why he quickly thought of the closest thing to those three words and spat them out, avoiding any growing suspicions. “I love the way you make me feel.”

You weren’t gonna lie, the first two words had gotten your hopes up in ways that were too pathetic to admit out loud. But his words had other intentions, so it seems, and you had to force yourself from slouching your shoulders foward in disappointment.

Beside, it’s not like the things he was saying weren’t causing a wonderful heat to pool in the pit of your stomach— and among other places.

You watched him, for a second or two, trying to maybe tell him with your eyes what you couldn’t tell him with your words. But it still wasn’t enough, and if you didn’t release the neediness that was starting to take shape within you, you'd quite literally explode.

You tangled your fingers within his hair and pulled his mouth onto yours in a steady but desperate kiss. He responded pretty well, given since his hands found your waist instantly and tugged them towards himself in a feverish manner.

He began pulling at the bottom of your shirt, signaling he needed it off of you and pulled away, whispering breathlessly. “Can I?—“

“Please.”

The fourth time

“Ouch,” You hissed as Morgan dabbed a piece of gauze onto the now stitched up cut on your head. “Are you trying to give me another concussion?”

Derek deadpanned at you, slightly relieved that you still found the energy to pick on him after being whacked in the back of the head with a pipe by the Unsub.

The team was searching for a local Serial Killer that targeted young women around the area, per usual. You and Morgan were put in charge of entering the Unsubs apartment since Garcia had been able to track it down while you and Morgan were on call.

It wasn’t anything past ordinary. This was your job, you had done this more than a thousand times before— much less carelessly and it wasn’t like you to be so careless. But sometimes you get so comfortable and cocky with your job that you forget about the actual risks of it.

Eventually that cockiness would have turned around and bit you in the ass.

When you and Morgan busted down the door, guns in hand, you split up, each directioning yourselves into different rooms of the apartment— in hindsight that was a horrible idea.

When you walked into what seemed to be an empty room, you stupidly failed to check the back of the door. Which was why a second later, when you opened your mouth to inform Morgan that the room was clear, something solid and cold wacked you across the back of the head, knocking you out unconscious.

You weren’t aware of what happened after that, given how the blunt force had knocked you out profusely and you really couldn't recall anything prior to the attack when you regained consciousness. All you knew is that you were alive and the Unsub had been caught, which was all that mattered honestly.

Derek was now wallowing in the self inflicted guilt of not knowing better. But to be completely fair, you didn’t know better either— you were as much to blame as he was.

But Derek was convincing himself that because of his lack of observation, you had ended up with a concussion, six stitches and a bruised cheekbone.

“Derek—” You pleaded, watching him dump the ice pack onto the counter of the back of the ambulance with an angry toss.

All he was doing right now was huffing in anger. “Come on,”

He turned to look down at you. Shot him a stiff thumbs up and a smile, signaling that you were more than okay. Sure, your head was throbbing, but you weren’t dying.

“Stop doing that,” You rolled your eyes and squashed your eyes shut, attempting to relieve your headache.

“Doing what?”

“The sulking,”

“I’m not sulking,” Derek scoffed. Now it was your turn to deadpan him. He opened his mouth, intending to jump instantly to his defense.

“Where is she?” A panicked voice from the depths of the crowd caused you to grimace, immediately recognizing it to be Spencer’s. Derek suddenly felt dread when realizing he now had to face him.

Spencer could be rather ardent when it came to you and your safety— you knew you were fine, but having to convince Spencer that you were fine as well was a tougher job.

Spencer pushed through the vast amounts of people, finally breaking through the last line of them and finding you sitting placidly in the back of the ambulance. The panic Spencer felt coursing within him was something he wished upon no one.

When Hotch told the team that you were down, Spencer couldn’t help but freak out. He hid it well, knowing he had to stay focused on the case, but god was he slowly crashing. His usual sharp intellect was fogged, and he couldn’t concentrate on anything but your wellbeing. His head was flooded with questions and worries and he needed to know that you were okay.

He strided over to you, quickly crouching and taking your cold hands into his own. His distressed eyes flew all over your face, scanning it as his hand came up to cup your cheek. His thumb gilded gently over your bruise and the deep furrow in his brows was enough to tell you that his mind was going haywire.

“Hey you,” You said, humor glistening your tone while smiling sweetly and oblivious to the gravity of the situation. Spencer forced a weak smile to spread across his own face.

“Hey,” He cooed. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine actually,”

Spencer straightened himself out, turning to Derek. “What did the paramedics say?”

“They gave her six stitches for the superficial cut on the crown of her head and some ice for the bruised cheekbone,” He crossed his arms. “They say it’s probable she has a concussion.”

Spencer felt his blood run cold. “A concussion?!”

You could tell Spencer was trying his hardest to remain calm. It was evident in the deep breaths he was taking and the tapping of his fingers against the side of his leg. He was doing a horrible job at it though, although you wouldn’t tell him that because he’d just freak out some more. His voice was getting all pitchy and his shoulders shook feebly. He sucked in a deeper breath, closing his eyes and attempting to regain his composure.

“Spencer,” You didn’t need him panicking more than he already was. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, probably to scold you or maybe even defend himself, Hotch's stoic voice cut through.

“We need to deliver a statement. Morgan, Reid,”

Spencer looked down at you. But you pushed him to head over to wherever your chief needed him to be. “Go. You can—“

“Hotch, I’m going to stay,” He told the chief, almost finally.

“For the first 24 hours after the injury, it’s important for someone to stay with her to keep an eye out for any new symptoms that develop.”

You clamped your mouth shut and looked at Hotch, who remained neutral watching the two of you. You offered him a shrug, and the two of you knew there was no getting through to him. Hotch hesitated momentarily, but knew Spencer would be more of use if he wasn’t with him worrying about you.

Spencer was as smart as they came but god could he be stubborn.

With a final nod from Hotch, he and Morgan pushed through the group of press. You followed Spencer’s movements with a sweet smile glued onto your face. He sat next to you, close enough so that you could feel the side of his thigh warm against yours.

“How are you feeling?” Spencer asked again, voice small, worrying that if he spoke too harshly or too loudly it would hurt you further.

“Surprisingly good for someone who was smacked in the back of the head with a metal pole,” You shrugged indifferently. Spencer, however, did not find your humor amusing.

“How sleepy are you on a scale from one to ten?” He asked urgently. You pulled back, pursing your lips quizzically.

“Like three? I slept like shit last night—”

“How about your neck? Does it feel stiff?” His hands reached up, cupping the sides of your neck as his thumbs traced your jaw.

“No,”

“Are you unable to move any part of your body?” His questions were spewing out of him uncontrollably, and it was getting hard for you to keep up.

“I don’t—“

“What about your pupils? Did the paramedics check them?”

“Spence,” You whined, slumping your shoulders forward while your face still rested in his hands. “The bright lights and harsh noises are giving me slight headaches, but that’s it.”

He stared at you. Long and hard, he just looked at you and wondered what he wanted to say out of all the things swirling around in his head.

“What were you thinking?” He asked finally. You stared at him and his eyes hard with annoyance, but still shining an amount of concern. His voice was barely above a whisper. You let your shoulders fall, licking your bottom lip.

You reached up, grabbing his hands steadily from your face and lacing your fingers with his. “We weren’t,”

“We jumped in head first and didn’t think coherently,” His frustration was rational, but to a certain extent. You really wanted to validate his concern, but he was not allowed to get mad at you. “Spencer.”

As you called his name firmly, he only looked away, jaw and shoulders tense and constricted. You sat there, silently waiting for him to react however it is he needed to in order to process.

“I should’ve gone with you, I should’ve—” His head ducked low. His voice was full of frustration, at himself mostly. It didn’t have to be because this was not something he could have prevented.

“Spencer,“ You gave his hands a firm squeeze and tugged on them slightly. “What did we talk about when it came to personal prevention?“

He remained silent. “I’m serious, there isn’t anything we could’ve done to prevent this.”

Spencer couldn't call to mind the last time he had felt this strongly about someone. Maybe Maeve, but he knew deep down it wasn’t the same. He was almost positive he really hadn’t ever felt this way about someone— he’d been in love, but never like this.

Your entire existence ameriolated his entire being. There wasn’t a moment in the day where he didn’t think of you, where he didn’t wonder what you would think of things, where he wasn’t excited to see you every morning for work. A life without you didn’t exist to him anymore— he didn’t want it too.

That could be the main basis as to why Spencer felt so implausibly terrified at the idea of losing you.

His hand left yours, replacing it with a cold emptiness. His free hand flew up to his eyes urgently, pinching them simultaneously to get rid of the minor tears that had welled upon them. He ducked his head low, not wanting you to notice that he had started tearing up.

Immediately, your whole face softened at the realization that he was crying. It tugged on the strings that held your heart up and made your stomach churn in the worst way possible. “Spence…”

Seeing him cry, possibly because of the fear of losing you, made you feel— funny. It gave you this airy feeling in your head that caused you to feel lightheaded and filled your chest with blithe. You weren’t sure if it was your concussion or the affection you felt towards Spencer that made you feel this way.

You smiled meekly, fondness across every one of your features. Spencer cleared his throat and spoke, voice wobbly and unsteady. He sat up, trying to recollect himself. “Sorry, I— I don’t know what i’m crying for—”

You looked into his eyes, eyebrows swooped downwards. At that second a million thoughts ran through your head, but only those three freaking worlds were the only ones that felt adequate enough to say in that moment.

“I—“ You started.

It was right there. It sat in the back of your throat irksomely. You were ready to jump off the edge, to slip into the abyss— to say those words that you’ve been holding off for the past weeks, months even. Spencer watched you, simultaneously growing nervous because he could tell by the way you swallowed thickly that you were about to say something.

“I think I’m seeing double,” You opted. Just the way his eyes blew wide was enough to make you giggle.

Next time.

“What do you mean?! Like actually double or are you—“ His voice died down at the sound of your snort and soon enough you began laughing. He blinked a few times before he glared at you.

“That is not funny.” It irked him massively how you had the capacity to always joke when he wasn’t at all in the mood to. But it also unraveled the itching anxiety that had grown in his chest and replaced it with a deep affection that surged throughout him entirely as he watched you laugh. “I’m serious.”

“Did you know that you look so cute when you’re mad?” Your hands reached up, cradling his face in your palms. You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips.

When you pulled away his frown was still present. The pads of your thumbs rested on both corners of his lips, pushing them upwards and creating a makeshift smile.

“I’ll let you baby me these next few days all you want,” Your voice was soft and sweet, making his head spin as you hovered your lips over his, placing another slow kiss there. “But right now, I’m promising you that I am fine, okay?”

His jaw clenched, eyes flying down to avoid your prying one’s. “Spence.”

You were saying his name one too many times that he was finding it increasingly hard to compose himself. He glanced up at you, nodding weakly. “Okay.”

The fifth time

You leaned forward in the mirror of Spencer bathroom, poking at the scarring on the crown of your head. “It feels weird,”

“It’s scarring tissue, it’ll feel weird for a bit, love” He watched you silently from his seat on the edge of his bed.

“Do you think it’ll leave a scar?” You mumbled, voice tight with concern. “The bruising on my cheek is fading but god help me, if this leaves a weird bump on my head I’ll physically seek this psycho out in jail and give him his own bump to worry about,”

Spencer stopped himself from laughing, finding your pouting adorable.

“After an injury, the inflammatory process signals fibroblasts to lay down new, protective tissue in the form of scars,” Spencer quipped. “But it won’t be noticeable since it’s hidden underneath the rest of your hair.”

You huffed, poking at the bruise on your cheekbone and admitting. “It’s hard to feel pretty when I’m all busted up.”

“You always look pretty,” You continued to poke at your cheekbone to which Spencer stood up, walking into the bathroom and planting himself behind you.

“Stop poking at it like that,” He scolded, reaching behind you and grabbing your wrist. You focused on your face, huffing a breath of frustration.

This past week has been utter hell for Spencer. A newfound persistent anxiety managed to find him after your injury and sink its teeth into him, claiming him victim. You've been staying with him since your concussion, ensuring him that you were safe, but he noticed he’d grown more vigilant to his surroundings when he was at work, more possessive when it came to you and your wellbeing and more conscientious.

You didn’t obtrude, since you understood it was a perfectly normal reaction for him to have.

But he hated it. He hated this clawing anxiety he was having. He hated having the persistent fear of losing you. He tried to decipher whether it truly was all related to the recent events or if there was something deeper. But he knew for sure that the thought of you getting hurt was making him sick to his stomach.

He wrapped his arms around you from behind, burrowing his face into the crook of your neck. You grabbed his arms, rubbing soft circles onto it with the soft pads of your thumb.

“Bruises make me feel ugly,” You miffed. “Except the ones you give me, I love those,”

Spencer looked up from your neck, catching your gaze and watching your mischievous smile lighten up through the mirror as he cocked a brow at you. You giggled out a laugh.

Spencer zoned out. He just looked at you, watching your pretty eyes latch onto his through the mirror, seeing your body safe and warm and alive in his arms. His throat tightened and as much as he hated it, his mind immediately thought of Maeve.

Not because he was comparing, of course not. He could never— the two of you meant very different things to him and they were very different relationships.

But he could remember how he wasn’t able to tell Maeve that he loved her— he wasn’t given the chance.

And it made him think about your recent accident, and all the times he'd been stopping himself from telling you. Fear, worry— whatever it was, he had been stopping himself time after time from telling you how he felt.

The thought of him losing you before he could ever tell you how he truly feels is something that made him want to throw up.

“Hotch said I could go back to work on Monday,”

“I love you.”

He said it because he could, he said it because he meant it, and he said it because he didn’t want to live a second longer without you knowing how he felt despite its reciprocity.

He won’t ever forget the way your face just fell. Just stopped moving, mouth hanging open and eyebrows shooting upwards. How your mind just went blank. God, his heart was in his throat and your silence wasn’t helping.

“What did you just say?” You asked, mostly in disbelief— entirely in disbelief.

“I love you.” He’d repeat it for you as many times as you wanted him too. He’d do anything for you.

You turned and his grip around you loosened. Now facing him, your eyes shot around every fraction of his face to determine that this wasn’t a lie or a joke or something cruel he was planning.

“Say that again,”

“I love you.”

And it definitely wasn’t.

You pushed yourself onto the tip of your toes, leaning up and wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him into a suffocating kiss. One that was desperate, and urgent and full of passion and all over the place.

He pushed you against the marble counter, quickly hoisting you up onto the cold tile as your mouth moved along his perfectly. Your hands dug themselves into his hair, your legs wrapped around his waist, tugged at his body, pulling him impossibly closer to your own.

He pulled away breathing over your lips. “I love you,”

He kissed you again before pulling away and whispering once again. “I’m in love with you.”

He rested his forehead onto you, reaching up and tangling his hands in your hair. The two of you heaved. Your chest was hammering against your rib cages, the oxygen wasn’t fully reaching your head or lungs and you were pretty sure you were going to faint. It was too much. “You are?”

You both peered your eyes open, looking at each other deeply. He whispered, voice crackling slightly. “How could I not?”

You kissed him, this time slowly and softly, wanting to show him how much you loved him back— needing to tell him how much you loved him back.

“I love you,” You said, wavering an unsteady laugh. He opened his eyes and pulled away, looking at you and infatuated with every part of your existence.

“Really?”

“Spencer..!” Your voice cracked in a protest, ludicrously referring to such a stupid assumption— you’d love him till the day you died. You pulled him closer. “It is physically impossible for me not to love you. Don’t act so surprised.”

He smiled. A big, wide and stupid smile that probably made him look like a kid on christmas morning. He kissed your forehead. “You have no idea how much of a relief it is to say it.”

You perched up, hands falling onto his chest. “How long have you wanted to say it?”

He cringed bashfully, letting his hands fall to your waist as he shook his head shamefully. “Too long,”

“Well that makes two of us then,” You leaned forward, placing a relaxed kiss on his jaw. “Was there a point you realized?”

He shook his head. He’s pretty sure that after a month of going out on dates and seeing you consecutively outside and inside of work, he knew he’d fall in love with you. How could he not? “My breaking point, however, was the day you were wearing your new shirt,”

He kissed your neck, giving your hips a tight squeeze. “Which by the way, looked absolutely incredible on you,”

“Is that so?” You mumbled, lips curving up in a smirk.

“I love how it looked on you,” He admitted. “I love you.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I’m never going to get tired of hearing you say that,”

“I’m never going to get tired of saying it,” He responded. “When did you realize?”

“It was either that time after our first big fight or on that night on the couch when we,” You shot him a sneaky look, to which his cheeks turned pink, recalling the events of that night. You shrugged. “You know.”

You were going to be the literal death of him.

He kissed your jaw twice more. He loved you and you loved him. It seemed like something too good to be true. “I think I’m going to need you to jog up my memory,”

You giggled at the reference, heart doubling in size at the amount of affection you were feeling towards him at that moment. He wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, emitting a loud shriek followed by a string of laughter as he hoisted you up and carried you over to his bed.

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tweedlydumbtweedlydoo · 1 month

Text

oh, baby | Tyler Owens x reader

Requested by anon / Summary: You’re pregnant with Tyler Owens baby. Lots of fluff.

A/N: My first Tyler Owens fic. I hope you all enjoy. Also, the lack of Tyler Owens gifs is very upsetting.

Go follow my fic rec blog! ---> @imaginationgonewild0912

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This one moment was about to change your entire life. You were terrified. Would you be a good mom? Would you be able to make a good enough life for the little growing blimp inside you? Your thoughts were running a million times a minute. Wondering how this would affect the rest of your lives. How this one moment just changed the rest of your life.

You slowly sat on the edge of the tub, in shock, the positive pregnancy test in your hand. Your mind drifted to Tyler. Oh god. His tornado wrangler YouTube channel had began to soar in popularity. He and the team making a name for themselves. He had millions of views and a huge fan club. What would this do to his career?

“Hey hun-” Tyler knocks on the door, jolting you from your thoughts. His hand jiggles the door finding it locked. He furrows his eyebrows, you never locked the door. “you alright?”

“Y-yeah!” You rummaged underneath the sink, hiding the test under some towels. “One sec.”

You knew Tyler was getting ready to leave, a few storms brewing before this upcoming weekend. You exit the bathroom and met with Tyler’s hard chest, “You leaving?”

He peeks behind you, concerned and curious, “Yeah, why’d you have the door locked? You never lock the door.”

You shrug, playing it off. You could wait to tell him when he got back, “sometimes a girl needs her privacy.”

He hums in response, not completely believing you. However, he didn’t want to press you. If there was something bothering you, you’d eventually tell him when you were ready. He could respect that. He slips his arms around you, tugging you close against his chest. He was a mix of sweat and that musky sandalwood. It was calming and heavenly. “I’ll be back in a couple days. You gonna be able to hold down the fort?”

You nod against his chest, tightening your arms around him, “I can.” You lift your head to stare up at him, “You better come back in one piece.”

He chuckles with a nod, “Yes ma’am.” He presses a soft kiss to your forehead and then your lips. “I will call you when we get to the hotel.”

You walk him out to bid him and the team goodbye. Shielding your eyes from the sun, you watch him drive down the driveway. He hangs his hand out the window, waving goodbye. You return the wave, saying a silent prayer for a safe return of him and the team as your hands find your new growing womb. “He’ll be back.”

You’d spent the entire weekend trying to figure out how to tell him. You’d called one of your girlfriends in tears, wondering how to tell him. Worried you would be ruining his life. She reassured you, “Tyler isn’t that kind of guy, y/n. You know that. He’s going to support you and be excited for this next step.”

You heard the slam of the screen door, “Tyler must be home.”

“Call me later.”

You throw the blanket off you, meeting him in the foyer as he’s taking off the boots. “You’re home early?”

He smiles at the sight of you, but frowns when he notices you’ve been crying, “Had a feeling I needed to come home to my girl.” He crosses the foyer to you in only a few steps before gathering you in his arms.

At the first feel of comfort, the flood gates open, sobbing into his chest. damn hormones.

“Oh baby..” He squeezes you tighter, cradling your head against his chest, “Talk to me.”

You take a few seconds to console yourself. His large thumb wipes your tears away, waiting patiently for you.

You gather yourself, taking a deep breath before you meet his eyes, “I’m pregnant.”

His large hands cup your cheeks, his eyes light up, full of hope, “Yeah? You’re pregnant?”

You nod and hiccup a sob, beginning to rant, “I’m so sorry-you’ve just started your YouTube channel and you guys are so successful now-”

“No no no- Shhh.” He pulls you in a comforting hug, “This is incredible. I couldn’t be any happier.”

He holds you against his chest, slowly rocking back and forth as you calm down, “I knew something was bothering you. I just had a feeling.” He kisses your hair, and then makes you look at him, “We’re gonna be parents.” He's hesitant, but places a hand on your stomach, “you’re gonna be an amazing mom..”

You waddled into the room to find Tyler painting the wall of the nursery. His hat on backwards, jeans and shirt stained with paint.

“How’s it going in here?” You take a seat in the wooden rocking chair, sighing in relief. Those stairs were beginning to take a toll on you. Your growing baby leaving barely any room for your lungs to breathe.

“Almost done.” He sets the paint brush down, hands on his hips he admires his work around the room. “all I got left is this wall.”

You rub a hand over your bump, wincing as you adjust yourself in the chair.

Tyler noticing your discomfort, immediately is at your side, full of worry, “It’s not time yet-”

“No no,” You laugh, “Just some discomfort. I’m fine.”

He visibly relaxes, “He can’t come early. There’s way too much to do around here.”

You roll your eyes, “It also could be a she.” You and him agreed to wait until the birth to find out the sex. He was convinced it’s a boy.

“Daddy instincts.” He gets on his knees in front of you, hands on your stomach, “It’s a boy. I know it.” He flashes his pearly white smile at you. “a baby boy tornado wrangler.”

“I think it’s gonna be a girl.” You shrug, “mommy instincts.”

“We’re gonna prove your mommy wrong,” He says to your belly, “Right off the bat, you and I. I’ll finally be right on something.”

Of course, the baby kicks at the sound of Tyler’s voice. Tyler grins, “See, he agrees.”

“You’re screwed.” You whisper softly to Tyler. After hours of labor, you and Tyler finally welcomed your baby into the world. He’s seated in the rocking chair next to your bed, his bundle of joy wrapped softly in a blanket. --- a pink blanket.

“There’s two of us now. You’ll never stand a chance.” You reach over and caress his arm.

He looks at you with tear-filled eyes, “She’s only a couple hours old and she’s already got me wrapped around her finger. She could ask me for anything and I’m going to give it to her.”

“Like I said,” you say with a smile, “you’re screwed.”

Comments, likes and reblogs are always welcomed and greatly appreciated. :)

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hoseoksluna · 7 months

Text

WINE | jjk

pairing: fuck buddy!jungkook x f. reader

genre: smut

word count: 4.7k

summary: both of you have a party to go to, but jungkook makes you needy again.

playlist: it's jeon time / pinterest board: wine

warnings: forced drinking, neck kissing, dom/sub dynamics, use of pet names and one particular title <3, degradation and praise, reader has daddy issues (like the writer), sensual dancing, dirty talk, spanking, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, orgasm denial, squirting, rough sex, plushie used during intercourse, hair pulling, jungkook needing to be in control, the importance of dom/sub role-play being just a role-play and not extending past the sex practice, aftercare

note: this was meant to be a fluff fic with jimin but then jungkook x calvin klein happened and i was fucked. my libido was awakened by that man, my ovulation triggered by his seductiveness and fucking godly beauty. this might be tmi, but i genuinely felt turned on while writing this, so i hope you enjoy. my bestie who always reads my work first said that my jungkook fics are vastly different from the ones with other members, and i agree. the sole reason behind it is the simple fact that jungkook owns my sexuality. so, yeah. please, show some love in the comments. happy reading!!

side note: HAPPY BDAY HOBI ᡣ𐭩

“A bit tipsy, aren’t we?”

You’re twirling. Twirling in golden circles as the late afternoon sunset traces the curves of your figure with its fingers, giving willingly a brisk dose of vigor to the movement as your delicately tousled curls spin around you. The warm light hits the shimmer on the highest points of your cheeks—coalesces with the glitter and you smile at the sun, fluttering your eyes shut. The ardent giggle spilling out of the mouth of your close friend is the music you dance to, and it helps your smile to grow in width.

You have somewhere to be. Both of you do. But you deem this is more important—it is your pregame after all, even though the wine glass in your hand is empty. Small drops of the white nectar make traces on the parquet floor, leaving behind the evidence of your joy, light as a feather somewhere within you.

Freshly showered, Jungkook watches the show you put on for him. With one shoulder, he leans against the large wardrobe and rolls his sleeves upwards on his forearms, wrists adorned with golden bracelets that tinkle with each effort. He does it slowly, blindly. Prefers to focus on you, and not on the task he’s done too many times. You face him, aware of his warm gaze, and you lean your glass towards his chest, tilting your head to the side.

“Barely,” you say. “Had one glass. Have another one with me?”

Jungkook smiles fondly, dropping his eyes to his wrists as he fixes the stacking of the thick gold. The cherry wood accentuates his countenance in a way that magnetically pulls you closer to him. Your legs act on their own, feet making their way to his. Something about the way they are shod in shiny dress shoes and yours are bare, toenails painted in cotton candy pink, drives a certain scarlet hue to go mad upon your dew-kissed face. Or maybe it’s the fact you two fucked hardly an hour ago that does it. You’ve always liked the scene, in which you’re naked and he’s fully dressed. Or it’s your ever persistent daddy issues and your obsession with Lolita. Maybe it’s a mixture of both.

You notice a ring on his pinky finger as he sweeps his ebony hair back. It wasn’t there when he had those digits wrapped around your throat in missionary. You take his inked hand to get a closer look, noticing the engraving of his last name. His father must have the same one. You caress it with your thumb. Its yellow gleam seeps into your skin—illuminates you and envelops you in its aura, fixing a heavenly halo above your head. You find yourself smiling when you look up at him and find that he’s been gazing down at you the whole time, his very own angel.

“If I were to have a glass of wine with you,” he mutters, and the mischievous twinkle that appears in his eyes excites you in a way that angels shouldn’t be provoked. “Then, there would be no party to go to.”

You know what he means, but you play dumb. You want to hear him say it.

“How so?” you ask and you widen your eyes softly to appear more alluring. You’re not sure if your body would handle another round, but you do enjoy the teasing—you enjoy the talk, the chase, the fuzzy feelings in your tummy.

Jungkook straightens and reaches for the bottle on the coffee table four steps away from you. Sinks the body of the glass onto his palm, pouring a good amount of the liquid inside. Nibbles his bottom lip as he stalks towards you, handing you the nectar, although he doesn’t let go. Your fingers wrap around his and it’s him who does the first move—lifting his arm to tilt the glass to your mouth. He’s gentle, a safe distance away to watch his whimsy unfold, but firm. He doesn’t lower his hand until the spillage of the gilded liquid trickles down your throat. Only then does he chuckle, setting the glass down. Satisfied.

Dizziness stirs your mind and you hardly have time to take a breather before Jungkook latches his mouth onto your wine-stained neck, tongue coming out to play—cleaning you up in figure eights that cause you to roll your eyes back. The ends of your curls tickle the back of his hand as he brushes his fingers along the dip of your spine, the skin bare in the open back of your knitted dress—made perfect for his sly touches.

He doesn’t press you against his body when he begins to suck on your neck; he still keeps the distance. Perhaps to make you needy, perhaps to make you ask for more. And it’s working, the magnetic pull does its thing once more and you roll your chest against his, aching to fit in the spaces of his figure that you know full well are there for you to hide in. Your nipples perk up at the slight attention, and electrifying sparks glide down the perimeters of your form in a way that you wish his hands would.

Absentmindedly, you touch them and Jungkook notices as he switches to the other side of your neck, the more sensitive one, the one that always leaves you dripping with your essence. You let him know, vocally, how much you like him there, and the sounds of pleasure you utter into his ear force him to pull out his phone from his pocket, steal your hand from your breast and place it in your palm.

He withdraws with a pop, plump lips coming to trace the shell of your ear. “I think we need some music,” he whispers, fingers skimming the curve of your ass. “Can you play some? Can you do that for me?”

Oh, that degradation kink of his. He knows he flung you out of his world into a pretty pink planet somewhere out there in the universe with that skilled tongue of his. He knows how dumb you get when horniness flushes your body with heat—he knows it intimately, for he’s the one who fucks you, the one you give yourself to when you blossom with the need to do so. He’s the one who opens the petals one by one, never to tear them, but to smell them, kiss them, hover them over the tender skin of his face just to be close to you. He knows you and he knows how to play with you just how you like it.

And you like to get into this state of mind. You like to be degraded, even though you’ll never admit it. You particularly like to get degraded by Jungkook.

Because of that reason, he likes to awaken it in you, beckon it to come out. How he found out is beyond your understanding. You reckon he sensed it while having your orgasms in his control. Somewhere in that dynamic, he found a little nook of a library and its contents fell into his grasp when he sank his fingers inside of you. All he had to do was read. And, also, listen.

Your bodily and vocal reactions didn’t protest.

You can’t even see his lockscreen, the numbers as you type in his mother’s birthday because Jungkook begins to toy with your earlobe, nibbling at the flesh ever so slightly. The pleasure, the wine getting into your head—it’s all suddenly too much. Paradoxically, you find the app somehow without looking out of a habit you learned throughout the months you’ve been casually seeing him, for Jungkook never fucks without his ‘It’s Jeon Time’ sex playlist. And he always wants you to pick out the first song.

It impacts what he does to you later.

You scroll and you tap on a random song.

No BS by Chris Brown.

You return the phone and Jungkook begins to pepper soft kisses on your throat, pocketing the device. A sudden throbbing on your bundle of nerves makes you tenderly whine and in your head, you curse him out for making you needy again. He pretends not to hear you, making a way to your chin. He kisses it. Ghosts his lips over yours, puckers them to tease you and hums in appreciation for the song. You grab him everywhere you can. Hair, neck, shoulders. Squeezing. As if he hadn’t fucked the soul out of you earlier. As if you weren’t spent. And he just laughs.

No matter how soft the sound is, it forces all of the peach fuzz on your body to rise.

Oh, you’ve made him horny. You’re fucked.

No party for you.

“Good little girl,” he coos, grabbing your ass and pulling you flush to his body. The praise before the degradation—the calm before the storm. “Can always expect the best from you. You never fail to please me.”

His hardness greets you first, pressed torturously against your mound. You mewl at the feeling, but he silences you. His lips are second to say a playful hello as they delve into a firm kiss, hand grasping your hair in his fist. He inhales against you and before the two of you know it, you’re moving your bodies to the slow, sensual rhythm of the song. Jungkook kisses you again, parts your lips with his and slips his tongue inside.

Just to taste you, briefly.

He spins you around.

Towering over you, he wraps his arms around your middle and sways with you, pushing your hair to one side, so he can focus on your neck once more. Gliding his lips up and down your neck, nose nuzzling into the safe space there near your ear, he inhales again, your scent being the translucent ship that gets him to heavenly places he dreams of every now and then. He guides you with his hips, needing to be in control of everything, even of something as insignificant as a simple, intimate dance. You love it, you could never get enough of it. The stability being the foundation that holds it is what attracts you to it, the stability that you never had, the one that your inner child deserves.

Palms flat on your tummy, Jungkook drifts them down and stops at your hips, fingers reaching your mound.

“Those hips will be the death of me,” he murmurs, caressing your sides while continuing guiding you, pressing you just right against his prominent length. “Did you really expect me not to get hard seeing you dance like that?”

You bite your lip, furrowing your eyebrows, rotating your hips to the chorus of the song, head empty.

Jungkook grunts. The sound intoxicates you even more.

“My princess doesn’t really know what she’s doing to me, does she?” He hooks his fingers under the hem of your dress. “Too horny, too needy to think, hm?”

Shamelessly, you nod. “Want you again. Want to feel you inside of me.”

Jungkook hums, then breaks into a gentle laughter. Lifts your garment and lets his fingers roam on your clothed folds, the white fabric drenched in your dewiness—pellucid enough to show the beauty of your flesh.

Aware of how wet you are, he clicks his tongue. “You filthy girl, how many times do I have to fuck you in order for you to have enough?”

You grow silent. Brimming with a woozy desire, you opt to grind your ass against him again. Your brain cannot come up with any smart answer that would please him, so this is the best you could do. Jungkook curses under his breath, leans back to watch you. He meets each and every movement of your hips and completes them, creating waves that spur the butterflies in your belly to life.

“Filthy”—He spanks you—“Fucking”—Another spank—“Girl.”

Knees bent, Jungkook grinds against your core, cutting short your hissing. He turns you around and bends you against the wardrobe, places your hands flat on the cherry wood. Takes off your panties swiftly and lets them pool by your ankles. Spanks you below your ass cheek, moaning at the lift and ripple of your plumpness. Does it again on the other one, letting out a sound that makes your dewiness, similarly like the wine down the sides of your neck, leak and stick to your inner thighs. Something between a dark chuckle, a moan and a purr of endearment.

“What am I to do with such a greedy girl like you?” he says, fingers tracing each curve of your ass to etch the memory of it deeper into his brain. “You deserve to be fucked like this. Mercilessly, for my pleasure. Like the little slut you are. But I’ll be good to you.”

He pushes your left inner thigh, guiding you to spread your legs. Cups your pussy, digits spreading your essence all over you.

“I’ll be good to you because you just can’t help it, can you? Poor little baby is just a slut for this cock.”

You mewl at his words, but then you discover that he didn’t lubricate your cunt for you, but for himself.

You yelp when you feel his tongue right there on the softness of your inner thigh, licking up a stripe to drink you. You didn’t expect him to do it so quickly and your whines increase in volume when Jungkook buries his head in your pussy, the deft muscle swirling around your pulsating bundle, licking between your folds and teasing around your hole. You push your hips back, wanting him there more than ever, but he spanks you, bites your flesh before he soothes the pain with his kisses. Big kisses as he calls them, the ones with full tongue. The nasty, the dirty. Big kisses for big girls with experience—those he teaches.

Jungkook stands up and wraps his fingers around your jawline, holding you like that as he draws closer to your ear.

“Looks like you can’t go out with your little pussy wet like that and those pretty panties soiled like they are, can you?” He turns your head so you look at him and you let him see your star-filled eyes, damp with the cosmos. “What would they think of you?”

“Koo,” you cry out.

He purrs in mock sympathy. “I left you alone for what, half an hour? And your pussy is needy again. That’s not right, is it? You should stop and think about this. Daddy’s not fixing it for you.”

As if he hadn’t spoken a word, he sinks his fingers inside of you. Middle and ring. Jackhammers them until you scream, then he pulls them out and spanks your pussy once, twice. With all four of his digits, he rubs the entirety of your femininity, sloppily and rapidly, the drops of your essence joining the company of the drying wine on the parquet floor. You’re seeing white, your orgasm inches away from you.

“Jungkook, please, don’t stop—” Your mouth rounds, voice breaks into a moan. “I’m gonna come, please, please—”

He withdraws his fingers. Entire body, too. Like a starved animal, head tipped low, he stares you down.

You struggle to catch your breath, swallowing dryly, leaning your head against your forearms.

“You said—you said you’d be good to me,” you croak out, throat dry, eyes lidding, mind absolutely fucked out.

“I am.”

The meaning of his words eludes you, but you soon forget about thinking when he licks his fingers clean. Wraps those pretty, puffy pillows around his slender fingers and sucks them. Then, he undoes the few buttons left of his ebony shirt, slowly and precisely. You clench around nothing, walls pressing together tightly. You’d slip a finger inside if you weren’t holding the side of the wardrobe for dear life.

“Get on the bed, now,” he orders. “Leave the dress on. Panties, too. I’ll show everyone how much of a little slut you are.”

Without a second thought, you do as he says.

You sit down on the edge of the bed and spread your legs as wide for him as the undergarment enfolding your thighs allows you, the ivory material pulled taut—your dewiness on show. Jungkook walks into the room like he has all the time in the world, like you aren’t gripping the flesh of your sides in order not to touch yourself. His shirt is fully unbuttoned now and the fabric lets you see a slither of his defined abdomen and fine black pubic hair peeking out of his Calvins due to how low his slacks are fixed on his hips. You lick your lips, dig half-moons into your skin until your knuckles turn white.

You need him. You need him so much that tears pool within the cosmos of your eyes.

“If only they were to see you right now,” he mutters. “So desperate for me. It’s too bad only I get to see you like this, isn’t it?”

He worsens your desire with that mouth of his. It’s extreme. You scratch your nails down your thighs to relieve yourself at least a little bit.

Fists on each side of you, Jungkook leans towards you. His simple gold chain swings in your face and you bite your lip to keep your needy mewls at bay.

“Am I talking to myself?”

You shake your head ‘no’.

“Did you forget how to talk?” He cocks his eyebrow.

“I need you so bad. I can’t take it anymore,” you whine out, the best your brain could muster.

Jungkook puckers his lips at you in feigned sympathy again and you expect the worst to come out of his mouth, but he surprises you when he says, “what do you want me to do to you?”

You gasp almost soundlessly. Your heart skips in your chest happily. Fire of the starlight shines in your eyes and a brand new flush finds its way to your cheeks, hotter than the one from earlier when you were dancing with the sun. Before you can think you answer through, it slips out of you.

“Lick my pussy, please.”

Jungkook smirks and the blush of roses smears across his cheeks and nose as well. He wipes at his mouth as if your answer made him drool—cuts the anticipation and kneels down at the bed, pushing your legs back.

“Who am I to deny you?”

The butterflies within your tummy go berserk.

Tongue flat, he licks up your cunt. Over and over, lapping up your wetness, moaning, seizing your girlishness and rolling it over in his mouth. You tip your head back between your shoulder blades and your arms begin to shake, holding all of your weight. Like you were previously grinding against him, you do the same movement now into his face. Recreate the waves as he rides his tongue against your clit.

He stops when you catch his gaze.

You cry out for him, bucking your hips. He shakes his head, eyes never leaving yours. His puffy lips glint in the dimmed light, the sun rays seconds away from saying their final goodbye.

“Needy little whore.”

Jungkook flicks at your little seashell, wraps those pillows around the muscle out of habit, but decides against it. Denies you the pleasure, knows too well you come too quickly from the suction. Decides to flutter his tongue instead, the pressure light, making you tremble like a butterfly wing. Retracts. Starts the torture again, alternating between light and hard. Fucks with your brain. Fucks with you.

“This feels too good, Daddy, oh my god.”

You watch him at work, mouth parted open, sounds of gratification coming out freely. He’s never done this to you before. It’s new, it’s different and it feels otherworldly; it feels like he’s transporting you back to pink planet again. The faint pleasure, the build up, the hard intensity at last before he starts again. He pins your hips down to prevent you from getting ahead, lidded eyes zeroing on yours, and the cord in your belly tightens. You near to the edge, gusts of gasps and ragged breaths flowing out of your mouth.

“I’m coming, Daddy, I’m coming, oh fuck.”

The harsh light of stars comes down slowly upon your eyesight. You’re almost there. You roll your hips to meet his tongue one last time, despite the deathly grip he has on your hip bones, but he lifts his head. Rips the orgasm away from you.

“No.” He wipes his mouth with his hand.

Your vision blurs and frustration burns you hot.

“What?”

“You’re not coming.”

You stare at him, eyelashes flittering. At loss for words.

“We have a party to go to, don’t we?”

You scrunch up your eyebrows. You thought you weren’t going anywhere?

“And if you’re good, I’ll think about letting you come tonight.”

Your mouth falls open.

“Close it before I fuck it.”

He cups your chin, closing it for you. Wraps his fingers around your throat and pushes you back on the mattress. Your hair fans all around you and you hold your clothed breasts for emotional support, your brain not really registering that you’re getting fucked and that you’re not allowed to cum. You sob tearlessly at his cruelty, lifting your head to look at him.

Jungkook unzips his slacks. Doesn’t bother to lower them, only pulls out his heavy length out of the tight confines of his boxers. His precum shines prettily on his mushroom and he spreads it all around him, jacking himself off, grunting, groaning, throwing his head back. All while being completely ignorant to your inner turmoil.

“Look at what you’ve done to me,” he whispers, letting go of his cock to show you just how hard he is.

Your head spins. His tip reaches his belly button and the thickness of his shaft obscures most of his pubic hair. You moan, aching to have him inside of you. Feel your slick trickle down onto the bedding.

“So hot,” you say, lifting your eyes to catch him focused on the reactions painted on your face with his bottom lip sucked between his teeth, chest heaving quickly. “You’re so beautiful.”

Abruptly, Jungkook flops you onto your stomach. Crawls over you. Straddles you. Veiny forearms, partly shielded by the waterfall of your hair, come to stay on either side of your head.

He reaches for the white bunny plushie resting against the pillows and hands him to you. Brushes your hair away from your face to whisper into your ear, “you better hold onto him.”

You clutch him to your chest and bury your face in his soft fur.

“Remember the rule?” he asks and you feel him drag the tip of his cock down the line of your ass—you feel him stop at your tight hole.

Your breath shakes. “I can’t come.”

Body reacting on its own, hips lifting, you allow him to glide down to your pussy.

Jungkook hums in appreciation. “That’s right. Look at you, so good for me already.”

He chuckles darkly and you hate your life.

“You only know how to behave yourself when you want to come, don’t you? Such a slut.”

He punctuates his sentence by sheathing himself inside of you. You grip your plushie tight, groaning into his fur. He does it all in one go, not stopping once to let you adjust around him. He huffs against your hair, mocks your sound, eyelashes fluttering at your tightness, mouth agape. It’s otherworldly how he fits. It’s otherworldly how you can make out his expression, how you see it clearly behind your closed eyelids—how him mocking you and imitating you makes you drip even more, the lewdness of your juices encouraging him to go balls-deep.

He rams into you.

You scream into the bunny.

He rams into you in staccatos, the headboard of the bed colliding over and over again into the wall. Swift jerks. Hard.

You feel so full.

“Slutty fucking pussy,” he whispers, gathers all of your hair into his fist and pulls your head back. Begins to fuck you evenly, picking up the pace. “So tight around Daddy, fuck.”

You must be floating. Somewhere out there within that pink planet. All your surroundings are bleary, distorted, but so vibrant. Just as your hair is pulled back so are your wings retracted in the same way, held by your captor. You feel his lips at your temple, parted, breath hot and heavy. You can’t even hear yourself amidst your pleasure and his, but somehow—all of a sudden—you hear the voice of your favorite singer echoing in the living room.

Do I Wanna Know by the Arctic Monkeys.

Little by little, you feel yourself returning back to planet Earth. Drool wets the corners of your mouth and you don’t have the strength to wipe it off, focusing all of your strength on stalling your orgasm, the voice of your beloved Alex pushing against you in a fight.

Jungkook lets go of your hair, but wraps the same arm around your shoulders, plushie and neck, his weight coming on top of yours. Continues to slam into you without any care of the world, heedless of the way you’re fighting for your life.

“If I’m not mistaken, this is your song, baby, isn’t it?” he breathes into your ear, slowing down his pace, hips rocking against you to the rhythm.

You sob at the mercy, the ferocity of your incoming orgasm dwindling away.

That is until he starts pounding you into the mattress again.

You scream out. White vision begins to chase you again, the cord tightening in your full lower tummy.

“Jungkook, please, I can’t—I can’t—”

He grunts at your helplessness, hand gripping your mouth. Pace so fast your head knocks back into his shoulder.

“You can take it. It’s your song.” He squeezes your cheeks. Grinds his hips slowly. You roll your eyes back, feeling him nudge your cervix.

He begins to kiss along your jawline, your earlobe, the contours of the shell. You do the same, peppering kisses upon his forearm as your position allows you.

“We could be together, if you wanted to,” he huffs the lyrics into your ear, just for you to hear.

The cord snaps.

Wetness gushes out of you; a sweet stream of your dewiness forces him to pull out of you—and your wet orgasm triggers his. He paints your open back white with his hot spurts of cum, sealing you, completing you. Jacks himself off with one hand while the other rubs your pussy, spanking it. You’re squirming, screaming, the orgasm long and so intense that you don’t even know where you are. Jungkook fingers you with three digits and coaxes another surge out of you. Slacks destroyed, dress soiled, bodies spent—your screams silent.

He caresses the roundness of your ass to calm you down.

“Breathe for me, baby,”

You try, but you can’t.

Too exhausted.

You feel him leave, but in a moment you sense the mattress dipping beside you. The coldness of wet wipes on your skin, getting rid of the evidence of his pleasure. The warmth of his thumb on the tear-stained skin under your eyes as he turns you to your side.

A glass of cold water is in his hand. You suddenly feel parched. His touch brought your senses back to you.

“Sit up.”

You finish the glass in gulps. Some of it leaks down your throat. Jungkook smirks.

“Well done.”

You hug your plushie tighter. “I’m sorry for coming.”

Jungkook caresses your hair. You’re sitting on your legs while he’s standing by the side of the bed. Running his fingers through your disheveled, ruined curls.

“I fucked you that hard on purpose,” he murmurs, curling a strand of hair behind your ear, finger coming to a stop at the beginning of the line of your jaw. “It was my intention to make you come.”

You lean into his touch. Kiss the edge of his palm. Drowsy, droopy eyes still bearing into his.

“Like I said. You did well.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Arms up.”

He takes off your dress and slinks your arms through the sleeves of his black shirt that he had discarded while fucking you. Your eyelids are shut when he lays you down on the cold side of the bed, tucking you in, and you’re halfway through the footpath to your pink planet when he promises, “I’ll make it up to you about that party.”

BACK to masterlist / read part two

#jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #jungkook one shot

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fanaticsnail · 1 month

Text

Dreaming of You

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 890+, 800+, 950+, 950+

Synopsis: They couldn't help it. You looked so heavenly in their dreams. The way they had you wrapped around their body as a marionette in their minds, dancing for them as they awoke to sticky blankets when they jolted upright. Their thoughts got the better of them, and they are wracked with guilt. Ace, Sabo, Luffy

Warnings: wet dreams, afab!reader, swearing, oral (character receiving), masturbation, dub con (using your image to masturbate to), suggestive content, feelings, all individual 'x reader' drabbles, same reader!insert different outcome, (mention of breeding kink in Sabo's - light), NSFW, 18+, MDNI, smut.

Notes: first time writing for Sabo and Ace to get a sense of their flavours before writing them individual fics. Series Link for Dreaming of You here. Shout out to @avogigi for keeping me company and giving me brain rot for Sabo.

Hands grabbing fistfuls of your ass, he held you completely locked against his face while his tongue greedily lapped at your glistening cunt. His head bobbed and weaved, shoulders bullying their way between your legs as you stood above his seated form on the cool floor. With one arm braced against the wall in front of you, the other attempted to push his head further into you.

“Ah, ah-!” he softly chastised you, withdrawing one of his hands from your ass and swatting your hand away from pawing at him. Laughing against your skin, he multitasked his motions by mouthing at your pussy while withdrawing his hat from his head and letting his hair shake free. Pulling away just enough to gaze cheekily into your eyes, he offered the hat out to you.

“If you wanna grab onto my hair so bad,” he thrust the hat into your hand before slowly inching his smile towards your pussy, “Better keep that warm for me and do it properly.” Before he dove back into greedily consuming your pleasure and coaxing your orgasm from you, his voice grew dark and possessive: his order coming out as a curt bark while his eyes darted between yours.

“Put it on.”

Your hands hurriedly placed the hat on your own head just as his lips and tongue slipped between each fold and carded from your slit to your clit. Lazily lulling his tongue from his lips, he clawed at your ass with his blunt fingernails to physically grind you against his face.

Humming at the sensation of your walls fluttering around him, he drew his right forearm up to cage your hips in while his left hand traced down the contours of his abs towards his aching cock. Rocking your hips over his mouth while he pumped his cock had his breath fall from his lips in gruff whimpers.

He was a needy puppy, desperate to devour your ecstasy while playing with the edge of his own. As your slick messily dripped onto his face and your walls began to contract around his tongue, he chuckled against your body.

“That’s it, baby. Cum in my mouth,” he huskily growled up at you, throwing his head back into your hand, “Ride my face. Pull my hair harder. C’mon now, you can go way harder than that.” His eyes roll back when he feels your fingertips grind against his skull, gripping on tight and rolling your hips against his mouth. Your voice sounds like a sweet melody singing a song only for him.

That wave of possessiveness twinkles in his eyes as he sees your brow contort and scrunch as you hit that peak and crest over the cliff he’s throwing you from. Humming up at you, his voice vibrates his tongue as he fucks it into your fluttering walls. His fist lazily pumps his cock with his fist while you use him to ride down that high.

“There you go,” he praised you, softly cooing your name up at you while you whimpered from the aftershocks of your high, “Good job. So fuckin' sexy using me like that. Now-.” He hastily pushed you from his face and rose to his feet, his cock achingly hard as he quickly circled his body behind yours. He gave you little time to shake off the sensitivity of your orgasm before you felt his fat tip push its way into your slit down to the hilt. He heard you gasp at the hasty thrust, prompting a greedy smile to inch its way onto his face.

“My turn,” his voice rumbled with his hissed whisper as he withdrew his cock all the way to the tip before puncturing your body with its girth. Your head fell back onto his shoulder, his lips attached to your neck as he bites your muscle to anchor himself to the earth while he hastily chases a path to the heavens.

Hips slapping harshly in a rapid flurry, your pussy welcomes him with each cruel drag of his cock in your walls. Your prior release is so slick against his cock, he almost wants to cry. His head swirls as he feels himself draw nearer and nearer to his own edge.

“Fuck, you’re s-so fucking wet,” he muffled against your skin, flicking his tongue out to taste the sheen of sweat he’d been drawing out from you, “I’m close. I’m so fucking close.” As his eyes scrunch tightly shut, panting against your body while his hips become more staggered in their vicious clapping, “Where you want me to cum-...? Where can I-?”

Upon opening his eyes, your body was gone. The warmth from your skin, a distant memory as his cock desperately twitched beneath his heavy blankets. Hastily throwing back the sheets, his cockhead bobbed and shook as hot ropes of his release shot out all over his stomach, shaft, balls, and thighs.

“Nghh, shit-?!” he whimpered, eyes wide as he glared at his cock. He couldn’t help the little bucks of his hips up into the air while he rode through his untouched high. Soft gasps, choked groans, and muffled huffs of breath poured over his lips and shot quietly out into dark bedroom while he rouse fully from his rest.

Covered in his own mess, his prior expression of bliss fell into a low frown while he came to terms about what just occurred. He just came untouched, while dreaming elicit thoughts about you and him together.

“Damn it.”

Ace

Fingertips caressed his scalp while the fire-first exhaled a jaunty laugh. He was appalled he had used your image as his own personal fantasy, his release still coating his skin in a glistening array of spend over his abdomen. Looking down at the sticky release, he let out a soft, audible groan as he attempted not to wake his comrades.

Quickly looking to the side, he notices a few members of Whitebeard’s crew still breathing heavily in the midst of their slumber. The slow inhale and exhale of their breath put Ace at ease while he articulated a plan to rid himself of his lustful display coating his skin. Reaching for a soiled shirt he neglected to wear for the day, his bashful smile remained drawn up over his features.

You were in his dreams, occupying his thoughts, and corrupting his slumber again. He was praising whichever of the old gods were listening that his slumber was corrupted beneath the security of his own cabin this time. Waking up with his seed painting his pants in public was not something he looked forward to on the regular. And regular visits within his falsified memory, you enacted with gusto.

Having met only a fistful of times in person, he was floored by how his dreams seemed to get a hold of him and run wild each time he closed his eyes. Seeing your image float beneath the shroud of darkness had him shaking his head and softening his laughter to soft waves of humor.

He was a man smitten by his younger brother’s crew member. The way your grin shot at him the first time you’d met held him hostage. Attempting to play it off, all he ever did was behave like a gentleman: his politeness and well articulated manners had you appreciate the softness of him all the sooner.

If you’d only known how desperately he needed you.

He wanted you so badly, his thoughts betrayed him on the regular. He would often wake to see the sticky remains of your spectral slumber-visitations the moment he awoke: your smile haunting him in a way his soul would sing for. He would yearn in silence, adoring you from afar while you kept his baby brother safe.

Although Luffy was a grown man, your captain no less, Ace still appreciated the way you would swarm to protect him at the most minor inconvenience. It was your loyalty that did him in. How much did you truly love his adoptive brother that you would follow him to whichever foe his stomach would lead him to face. He loved the way you would follow him, loved the way you would laugh jovially, and love-… love-…

He loved you.

Everything that was you, Ace held locked in his heart. Your smile, your eyes, your heart: all away in the softest corner of his beating organ swarming his chest with heated love. While his cock appreciated how attractive he found you, his heart held you in earnest. He loved you through and through. His deepest fantasies now only solidifying that fact.

He was deeply, hopelessly, and wholeheartedly in love with you.

Tossing his shirt aside, Ace cradled his head with his palms behind his neck. Humming with a whimsical smile painted on his features, he shut his eyes and softly whispered your name.

“I will see you again,” he confessed, forging a covenant within his heart and writing a quest on his soul, “I will open my heart and let you love me, if you’re willing. I want-... I need you to love me.” He uttered, rolling onto his side and cradling his chest with his arms.

“I need you to love me. Please.”

Holding his body closer, he gazed at his sleeping den-den-mushi, contemplating whether it was worth the disruption of your own sleep to confess his adoration towards you. He was a Whitebeard, you were a Straw-Hat. He was loyal to Edward Newgate, you were loyal to his younger brother. His infatuation was never meant to be: two pirates allied, but both ships anchored to differing ports.

Sighing out a heavy breath, he shook his head and clutched his freckled cheeks with the palm and four fingers of his right hand. Contemplative was the expression that homed itself on his face, picturing what a relationship could look like with you on an allied vessel. His thoughts of love would have to remain in his dreams: never wishing to burden you, or pull you away from your ties to where your allegiances found themselves.

He couldn’t do that to you.

Not you.

His brother’s crewmate deserved more than that. You deserved more than that. More than him.

Closing his eyes, he found solace in the way you would welcome him into your arms within the call of slumber. He was smitten, enjoying the dance you would perform for him as his entertainer within falsified memory. He loved you wholeheartedly, but would never dream to tear you from the ties you had forged with Luffy as your captain.

For now, he could only dream of you.

Sabo

Hastily throwing his duvet off the rest of the way, he turned on his side and anchored his bodyweight against his elbow while he grasped at a cluster of tissues. Scrunching them tight, he drew them down to his body and began swiping at his skin. Several fragments of the white paper remained on his flesh while he attempted to clean up the carnage left behind from his dreams.

“Sabo, m’close,” he heard your spectral whine keen for him. He growled at the image, continuing to pat his sticky skin free from his release. He clicked his tongue as he came to terms with the fact that he was doing more harm than good with his tissues, hastily standing to his feet and briskly walking to his ensuit bathroom.

At the revolutionary base, he was blessed enough to have the privacy of his own quarters to bathe within. He doesn’t enjoy bathing at the most of times: his devil-fruit making him feel weak and pathetic as opposed to relaxed and tranquil.

He was feeling weak and pathetic now, even before his body met with the rapidly filling running water in the large bathtub.

You were a part of Luffy’s crew. A 'Straw-Hat’. He had only met you a handful of times, and you were always sweet with him. Your soft voice, cheeky grin, eyes that seemed to find his and twitch in glee. He loved the way they would sparkle, those domed orbs mirroring his streak of chaos and had him want to take you into his arms and carry you back to the base with him.

Stepping into the water, he sighed out at the warmth: attempting to scorch his thoughts from his mind with the tranquility within the still waves. He drew his hands down to his stomach and swiped at it, removing the glubs of paper and cum from his skin with the heels of each palm.

“Sabo, please. Please, Sabo. I need you,” he heard your voice echo in his mind and shift throughout his body. His lengthy digits had a mind of their own, grasping his half-hard shaft and beginning to pump at his submerged cock. His eyes scrunched themselves shut as he attempted to stifle the thought of you while his quickly re-stiffening cock fanned the flames.

“Flame emperor, please let me take your cock? Fill me up with it?” his hands quickened their reaction and his eyes flew open. That title, his title, falling from your illusionary lips and growing his desire for you more. Without much warning, Sabo hastily turned in the bath: water sloshing from the sides while he clasped the porcelain edge of the tub.

“You think this is funny, don’t you?” he growled in a low tone, his brow furrowing while he chased that image of you clutching the wall, “You want me to fuck you like an animal. Let me guess, breed you?” He could barely get the words out, falling hard into the fantasy he had crafted in his mind of your body.

His cock twitched violently, each vein throbbing while his shaft pulsed with desire. His breaths came out in choked pants and gruff huffs, quickly giving way to wanton moans that rolled into whines. His imagination ran with him, positions of you quickly changing to see you on your back with your legs pressed up into your chest. His eyes rolled back in his skull as he pictured the soft squeaks you would make while he viciously pounded your pussy with every in-thrust.

And then he switched again, removing himself completely from the equation. He wanted to watch you squirt. He wanted to have his gloved middle and unity fingers buried to the knuckle while your wrists were tied to your ankles. He wanted to watch you squirm around his hand, trying to escape the umpteenth orgasm he’d been ripping from your body.

He wanted to have your chin raised by his dragon-claw cane, while your lips were gagged with his other glove. He wanted to feel you squirt and fuck you through your orgasm with his hands; your clit caressed by the pad of his clothed thumb. He wanted to watch as you succumbed to the insanity he was pulling from your body with a keening scream of his name pouring from your lips-.

“-Fuck! I’m cumming-...! H-hah, sh-shit-!” he rode his hand, the water splashing in heavy waves over the edge while he released his spend into the bath water. He sobbed your name, whimpering as he sucked his lip into his mouth.

All he could see through his scrunched vision and darkened thoughts was the way you would grip onto him and trust him to claim you completely. To fill you with his cum, to watch as you slipped off that edge and tumbled into his awaiting arms. Rope after rope of his unraveling release spurted into the water as he rode his high. His blonde locks dance while dripping with water from the bath, his pants coming out as cries for you and you alone.

“Fuck-! Baby, please. I need you,” he whispered as he came down from his high, feeling dirtier now than when he first stepped into the warmth of the bath water. His physical recoil from his release had him forlorn, his brow furrowing further as he rode through the afterwaves of his bliss.

“Shit, I do need you,” he confessed to himself. He hastily shook off his high and fled from the soiled waters: releasing the plug and watching it swirl through the drain. Taking a deep inhale through his nose, he exhaled his promise through his lips without breathing the words to light.

He will see you again.

He will confess his desires for you.

He will make you his.

Luffy

Immediately jolting from his bed, his brows furrowed low as he slotted his legs into each leg-hole of his denim pants. Hoisting it up over his deflating cock, he narrowed his vision by deeply scowling.

Why were you in his thoughts? Why did you ask him to defile you like that? Why did you want him to hold you close and fuck you so viciously?

And why did he want to?

Tugging up his waistband, he shrugged on his red vest and began to briskly walk to where he knew you were aboard his ship. Designating you as his watch shift for tonight had you positioned within the crows nest and looking out over the horizon while the rest of the crew slumbered. Reaching the woven footfalls of the rope-ladder had Luffy immediately scurry up to confront you.

As soon as he hoisted his way up over the last barricade, his deep frown softened into a warm smile. Gently scrunching his nose, he hooked his heel into the last loop and pulled himself over the railing to slip quietly beside you.

Nestled warmly beneath your blankets, you stared at the rippling ocean and stood alert at each uncharted wave rippling in an unsoundly manner. Holding your gaze firm on the moon shining on the waves had you jolt upright the moment your captain unceremoniously plopped himself down beside you.

“Captain-!” you squealed in surprise, gently moving to a seated-fighting position by thrusting your hands up to your chest before the familiarity of your boss removed thoughts of violence from your mind. Your shock turned into glee at his presence by your side, a subtle shift that didn’t escape your captain’s notice.

“Didn’t mean to shock you,” he chuckled with a soft wink, moving his body closer to yours with a gentle pull. Softening his cheery smile, his eyes dragged over your face and marveled at the way you looked within the night air. “Hi.”

“Hi back, Captain,” you offered him with a slight giggle in your tone, “What brings you out tonight? Shouldn’t you be sleeping or raiding Sanji’s pantry?” He couldn’t help but laugh along with your playfulness, gently nudging his shoulder with your own before resting his cheek on your covered flesh.

“I actually came out to see you,” he admitted without remorse, defeat, or malicious intent, “I had a dream about you and wanted to make sure you were alright.”

You stiffened beneath the weight of his confession before shifting to make yourself comfortable with his head tucked safely within your shoulder. Glancing out from the corner of your eye, you notice the way Luffy’s eyes fluttered closed while he tucked himself into your embrace. He seemed out of sorts: his actions feeling far more clingy and desperate than his usual demeanor.

“Nightmares, Cap?” you asked him, gently opening the flap of the duvet and inviting him within your solace, “Some rough dreams on quiet waters?”

“Nah, nothin’ like that,” he offers, eagerly accepting your embrace by hooking his shoulders beneath your arms, “I was just thinkin’ about you, s’all. Like I said: wanted to make sure you were okay.” His arms eagerly found themselves coiling around your waist, tugging you into himself and nestling closer.

Gently chuckling at his motions, you shrouded his shoulders beneath the cloak of your heavy blankets, nestling him into your skin and holding you within your solidified embrace. Tucking his head beneath your cheek, you softly whispered against his temple.

“You just rest, Cap,” you spoke calmly and lovingly against his skin, cooing down at his nestled form within your arms, “I’ll be right here when you wake up, alright? Just sleep.” He nuzzled against your warmth, holding himself against you and scrunching his eyes tightly shut,

His lips moved, his words muffled and incoherent as his eyes fell half-lidded. His arms felt possessive around you, holding you firmly as if you would dissipate into smoke at the earliest convenience. You could’ve sworn his lips puckered and pressed against your skin, caressing you with his mouth in a sweet kiss as he drifted off into slumber. The softest whisper tumbling over his lips and going unmissed by your ears as you peered out to the open ocean.

“I’ll see you in my dreams,” he confessed lazily, his heart on his sleeve as he slowly slipped within the depths of calming slumber. His breathing tapered out as he focussed on the easy beat of your heart, prompting his own to beat within the same tempo.

As his breath grew heavy and laboured, you readjusted him to lie in a more comfortable position on his lap, slowly caressing the crown of his head by carding your fingers through his curled locks.

“Rest well, my captain,” you sighed down onto him, ignoring the way your heart skipped a beat at the possessive undertones your profession indicated. He was your captain, a captain you knew as yours and your only one. You would lay down your life for the opportunity to do him proud: winning battles, foraging for food, and hunting beasts for a moment of his attention. He was your captain, and you were his crew.

But the lingering emotions flooding your hearts with the warmth of infatuation had you both believe you could be more than just that. For now, contentment found you. Luffy’s breathing expanded out as his peace prompted you to guard him as you found your own. The night watch was uneventful: the giddiness of the morning to follow your captain’s sleep buzzed your senses and held you awake overnight.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @sordidmusings @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory

#one piece #x reader #one piece smut #luffy #ace #sabo #asl brothers #monkey d luffy #firefist ace #portgus d ace #flame emperor sabo #op sabo #op ace #op luffy #luffy x reader #ace x reader #sabo x readex xr #x afab!reader #one piece fanfiction

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seiwas · 1 year

Text

₊˚⊹。and my body keeps saying (it's yours) | gojo satoru

wc: 1.6k

summary: gojo thinks this is different, new, almost like it’s the first time for everything.

contains: f!reader in mind but no specifics are mentioned, 18+/mature/soft-slight n*ft/w, sex with feelings (it’s really just vanilla tho!), first time!, there’s an awkward bit but that’s intentional!, lots of nervous feelings! but also lots of intimacy!

a/n: for nonie.🫧 who asked about what it would be like for their first time! title is inspired by an emotional oranges song, devotion (which i used as music inspo for the entire fic too + troye sivan, what a heavenly way to die). this is also my first time writing anything close to n*fw so please be kind! idk if i’ll ever write one again; takes place between tell me about love (show me how) and so this is what it means to be in love!

collection masterlist: conversations on love 02. tell me about love (show me how) <- you are here -> +02 (extra). look my way, you're what i crave

MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT.

It’s a touch—

—fingertips brushing the edge of his jaw, trailing down his neck, lightly, delicately.

Gojo kisses you beneath the glow of your bathroom lights and he twitches, just a little bit.

“Sorry,” you stop, attempting to pull away from him immediately.

His neck is sensitive, always has been since Toji. The mark has faded over the years; what used to be a line running through the shadow of his jawline is now nothing, but you know the feeling lingers, still. You’ve tried to avoid the area as much as you could—while sparring, hugging, kissing; holding him in moments as intimate as this. But sometimes, your fingers slip, and he jolts, so you move away, apologetic—

And he wishes that you didn’t, wishes that he didn’t have to react that way when all he really wants is for you to hold him like this.

He stares at you now, lips puffed and kiss-bitten, and thinks, he shouldn’t even be here—

—at 2:00 a.m., in your apartment, fresh out of a three-day assignment he caught the last train for, just to see you.

He shouldn’t even be here, bone-tired in a black t-shirt and track pants he couldn’t be bothered with—there just wasn’t enough time to change out of it.

And he really shouldn't even be here, except, he cut the assignment two days short, rushed through it, restless, eager at the thought of getting back soon.

All because he missed you.

Gojo keeps you close, his fingers splayed on the base of your spine, warm and pressing. You can’t read him, his next move, but his eyes hold lightning crackling. He takes your hand and guides it back to where he’s weakest, underneath his jaw, on his neck—healed skin and tissue, his lifeline to you.

“Keep it,” he murmurs, eyes piercing.

He still twitches when you touch his skin, but it’s always been involuntary. You should know that it could never be because of you, your hands that hold every good thing his heart carries.

You lean in first, tiptoeing, nudging his nose with yours and your lips hovering. His pulse point rests beneath your fingertips—can you feel how fast it’s beating? Just from having you near him?

The tips of his hair tickle your forehead and he swallows, throat bobbing. It’s impossible to resist him when he’s this boyish, this charming, so you kiss his lips once, before pulling away, teasing. He bites his lips, red blooming against pink, and you don’t know exactly what you’re anticipating—

But he leans in.

When you kiss again, the feeling is familiar, a memory of trembling lips and shaky breaths by a bathroom door that isn’t yours. He doesn’t tremble anymore, isn’t as stiff when he has your lips memorized among many other things, but Gojo still flushes the same way your cheeks heat up and your breaths intermingle at the same rate your hearts race.

You follow where the lights have diffused into your hallway, this dance with him a push-and-pull you’ve done a few times before. He keeps his palm flat on your lower back, pushing you closer, while pulling you towards your bedroom door.

His hands slide to your waist, dipping you, grip tightening as you bite his lips, tugging. He moans softly, voice low when your hands rake through his hair, the vibrations rippling through your mouth. Your fingers grasp at the short strands of hair at the back of his head, sighing when his lips are released from yours.

There’s a moment where you catch his eyes, pupils blown a dangerous blue—a sky swallowing you whole before he begins trailing kisses down your neck, nips and licks evidence of just how greedy he is with you.

A heat builds within you, rooted deep in your belly as you stay pressed against the outline on his crotch.

It’s hard to imagine a time before all this, how he even struggled to hold your hand when he touches you now like this.

You stumble over his feet as he backs into your bedroom, steadied only by his hold on you. You chuckle, a small ‘oops’, so sweet, as your collarbone clashes with his teeth. He smiles, lips curled against your skin as he teases, “So clumsy,”

He’s kissed you this much before, has held you this tight, and touched you much more but this feeling between you now, he can tell—

Tonight is different.

You lead him this time, to the edge of your bed as you keep him closer, hands all over him. When you lie down, lower lip caught between your teeth, you smile shyly but your eyes burn sinfully, and Gojo wonders if you know that this is what he sees when he’s dreaming.

He moves closer, your mattress dipping as he hovers above you, arms caging the sides of your face. His head is spinning, eyes zeroing in on the skin exposed by the single button undone on your pajama top.

When you cup his cheeks, thumb running across his swollen lips—

He thinks he might go crazy.

You have no idea what you just did.

He takes a breath before pressing every bit of his longing onto your neck, kissing, sucking, licking, imprinting proof that he was here, with you. It’s red and blotchy, situated right underneath your ear and it’s one too many but still not enough—for him, never enough.

You gasp, tugging at the hem of his shirt, and it’s overwhelming, this feeling. As quickly as it escalated, Gojo freezes, as if you’ve burned him, as if he’s caught up to what could possibly be happening, and it’s—

It’s a lot.

He pulls away slowly, eyes wide and breath shaky. The air is thick, hot and heavy, and this—where this is going is something he’s never done before, not entirely.

You sit up, alarmed, hands cradling his face carefully. His eyes are frantic, nervous, blinking at a pace that only makes you worried.

“We can stop,” you mumble, lowering your hands to take his, gently.

He sees you, hair a mess, marked his, beautiful, and he just wants to make sure—that you’re okay with this, that you want this, with him. Truly.

“Do you want to?” he asks, a sky you could fall into, “Honestly.”

He breathes out, staring. You gulp before shaking your head. “Do you?”

And he doesn’t have to think much about it, really, because of course, he doesn’t want to stop.

How could he, when it’s you?

He shakes his head too and you smile.

You squeeze his hand, guiding it to the buttons of your top, “Okay—”

“We’ve never…” he hesitates, trailing off.

It’s weird because it isn’t anything he hasn’t seen before; you’ve both done things at the very least, just never all the way. And now, with the knowledge that that very fact is going to change—it feels different, new, like it’s the first time for everything.

You nod, stroking his knuckles to reassure him, “You said you’re a fast learner, right?”

The nervous laugh you give is oddly comforting, and he remembers that first kiss and the single thought that if he doesn’t do this now, how much longer ‘till he does?

So he takes it—

—unbuttons your top one-by-one, and he’s a bit shaky, hands clammy, but he gets it off eventually. Then goes his shirt, and your shorts, his pants, a struggle to get past his ankles until you’re both bare, cheeks hot while giggling, like first loves—and maybe it is.

Gojo sees you stripped down, uncovered, wholly you for the first time and thinks he could die.

It’s vulnerable and strange as he hovers over you this time, skin-to-skin, but you fit together this way, just right.

You giggle some more, unable to hide your nervousness. It’s a habit you have—laughing in inappropriate situations, but he thinks it’s cute, so he does it right back.

Your fingers trace his eyebrows, down to his nose and cheeks, then to his lips, still red and bitten, “You’re so pretty, Satoru. Not fair.”

He blushes, tips of his ears and neck flushing, “‘Course,” he kisses your nose, pulling away to get a good look at you.

“Have to be if I’m with you.”

It’s cheesy, and you roll your eyes, laughing full-on but he smiles wider and it feels good knowing that he’ll forever get to share this moment with you.

“I, uh,” he mumbles, trying to find the words, “have to prep.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” you move, hands reaching for him between you, but he catches your wrist before you touch him, stopping you.

“Don’t,” he says, firm, face red as he looks straight at you. “I might not…” he doesn’t continue but you know what he means, so you nod, pulling away.

His hand trails down your body, inching closer to where you need him to be, and it’s sweet you think, because he kisses your lips once before asking, “Can I?” as if he still has to.

You nod, before whispering, “Don’t ask next time.”

Next time, you said and it rings, echoes in his head as a promise for more—that this is just the beginning.

So he touches you, in every way he thinks you should be, in every way he knows you want to be.

There’s a gasp, then a moan as he leaves another mark on your neck, and you’re so close when he stops.

You whimper, but you know what’s next, and you see it in his eyes as he prepares himself, fingers discarding a square packet, “You’ll let me know?” he whispers, soft, concerned.

You’ll let me know if I hurt you? he means, and his eyes stare into yours, sincere.

You nod, brushing your lips against his, and when you feel it—it’s unusual, maybe a bit uncomfortable but he’s there kissing it away.

There’s an adjustment, a few awkward positions until he finds it, then he goes slow, rhythmic. Your sighs grow louder and he groans, withholding, then you say it—

“‘Toru,”

—by his ear, soft and breathy, and he’s gone, stilling and spilling, a part of him forever yours, irrevocably.

thank you notes: to nonie.🫧 for asking about this in the first place, and to niku (@stellamancer) for emotional support and for reading this first!! + for helping me go over it!! i love u niku 😭

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

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whosjunglejim4322 · 10 months

Text

Reconcile- E.M (S)

Smut!, fluff because uhm how could I not, angst! cause you guys are pent up from stress and this is basically a make up sex fic teehee, mentions of weed, brief arguing, Y’all just desperate and gross, Eddie fucks you till you cry and talks you through it like the slut he is, he cums inside of you, makes sure to fuck all that attitude away, PUSSY EATING, very graphic descriptions of passionate n nasty intercourse

You hadn’t foreseen this happening.

Sure, you and Ed’s have gotten into little disputes before. Petty, insignificant quarrels about whether or not the other person actually took out the garbage or who would pay next date night. Two years is still short to some, for you and Eddie it felt like forever and yesterday all in the same universe. Heavenly, and mundane.

But this is a different beast all together. This morning makes day two that you two have had this weird, suffocating energy between both of you. The antagonist of this situation, is undoubtedly the conversation that was had at Steve’s weekend hangout.

A few hits from a joint, a shot or two of tequila and goofy sentences being passed around between two best friends. You and Robin being the spectators, content in your own little bubble, puffing on a spliff of your own. Heavy, fluffy blankets kept you warm, gave you weight to lean on when your head began to feel like it might float away.

The Christmas lights and the hum of the deep freezer in the corner of Steve’s basement almost distracted you completely in your haze, until it didn’t. Until Chrissy Cunningham came up. Until it was an innocent giggling fit about whether or not Chrissy ever had a crush on Eddie, the oxymoron in and of itself.

“Imagine that ever happening,” Steve chuckled, lightheartedly, taking a sip of his Diet Pepsi. “can’t say I can’t see it. She wanted you for sure, dude.”

Your ears twitched. Eyes thinning into inquisitive slits. Nothing about Steve’s tone was meant to be rude, or disrespectful, but the nature of the comment itself felt awkward and uncomfortable underneath your skin.

You almost turned your attention back to the Walkman blasting David Bowie. Almost.

“I saw her the other day, she came in for an oil change. Honestly, I never would’ve even thought she wanted me,” Eddie takes another rip of his bong. “But then she asked me if I do at home visits. Said she wanted to catch up with me.”

Maybe your reptilian brain overreacted. Or, maybe it didn’t. Honestly, you don’t blame yourself completely for the way you reacted after that statement. Nothing else he said after that mattered. All you could hear was your heartbeat in your own ears. Loud, thunderous

“I told her I wouldn’t do that, obviously.”

White noise.

And not only were you intoxicated, but you were already burnt out from work and school, touch starved from not having any time with your boyfriend as of late. A period of your current reality that you know will pass as all things do in life; but it was too much. This hangout was supposed to be somewhat intimate, something for you to both do together. A simplicity that normally wouldn’t even have to be mentioned. You and Eddie exist on the same axis.

The blanket became too heavy and the smoke in the room threatened to choke you further. You all but threw the fluffy cover off of you and stormed out. You heard Robin call after you, and Eddie. A pair of voices that meshed together like the drum line in a song that is so in sync with the guitar chorus that you can barely decipher it. The steps spin, but you manage to stay upright.

Cold November air chilled your face, your neck. You too a deep breath in while marching to the van parked just a few feet away on the newly slabbed pavement of Steve’s home. His parents are at their lake house so often that Steve claims their Hawkins residence as his own.

Predictably, a heavy thump of boots followed closely behind you. The scrape of worn soles and the squeak of an old leather jacket. A billow of smoke follows him, clings onto him like jasmine and rosemary to the freshly bathed. Your back felt like the warning signs at a crossroad. He felt helpless.

“Baby, hey,” he sounded breathless, desperate and confused. He’s never seen you so upset that you’d just walk out unprompted. “stop walking god dammit, please.”

You stopped reluctantly, the tears of frustration in your waterline blurring your vision of the violet, cloudless skyline. A wide, warm palm touched your shoulder and the heat seared you even through your hoodie. You flinched away instinctively, sore in your limbs from your own concoction of emotions. When you met his eyes, they were wide. Like a deer staring down the barrel of a gun in its own home.

Your face must have been something to see. A scowl, a mirror of sadness reflected in his umber eyes. Angry. He’d never seen you look at him that way. It felt like having his intestines twisted between two cold hands.

“You didn’t tell me that happened.”

You stated it plainly, but spitefully in nature. Your voice cracked and it made a brewing tear spill over your waterline and down the plump of your cheek. He had the overwhelming urge to comfort you, but knew he couldn’t. Knew you would likely flinch away like you did five seconds ago and he didn’t think he would physically be able to bear you trying to get away from him again.

He didn’t exactly know what was making you so upset. The conversation wasn’t anything he wouldn’t have said in front of you, which is why all of it was said in front of you. Perhaps his own intoxication made it hard to fully understand the velocity of his words, what they meant and how they could’ve been interpreted from your point of view.

“I didn’t think it was important.” His thick brows scrunched and deepened the wrinkle between them. You looked like your eyes might bulge out of your head.

You nearly choked on your own spit, the words to your reply getting caught square in the middle of your throat; and so you said nothing. You stepped forward, and then past him. And he realized too late that you were walking away from him.

“I’m gonna ask Steve to take me home.”

He was too stunned to speak. To react. To stop you, to plead for you to tell him what he did wrong. Or at least how to fix it. He felt himself crumble on the inside, like his bones were made of ash.

When he got back to the trailer that night, you weren’t there. And that’s when it all really set in. That he fucked up. For the past two weeks you’ve been here with him, playing house while Wayne caught a gig further up north. He thought, he thought that when you said home, maybe you meant here. With him.

He called that night, almost ten times. You answered on the eighth.

“I’m at my apartment Ed’s, I’m fine. I don’t want to argue, or talk. I just need to be by myself right now.”

He felt paralyzed by the pang in his chest. More so, he felt angry. Genuinely angry, and not just at himself, but selfishly, at you.

“Fine, glad you’re safe.”

He nearly broke the fucking landline.

Your eyes have to adjust to the brightness of your living room. Well, your bedroom, slash living room, slash kitchen. A studio in Hawkins is relatively affordable, but they aren’t lying when they say it’s a studio. The events from yesterday scream in your head instantly, along with the pounding of your pulse. Your bed is almost unfamiliar at this point, the blankets not worn enough, the sheets the scent of fresh dryer sheets instead of you and Eddie’s shared scent.

The beeping of your answering machine pulls you back down to reality, though not one you want to participate in currently. Unfortunately, you have no other choice.

They’re all from Eddie of course, and now that you’re not high you feel those wounds from the night before coming back, sticking you in the chest, ribs, liver. Along with the pain, you feel guilty. For your less than mature reaction. Though you know you can’t blame yourself, not having ever been in that situation. You’re human and reacted as so. But he’s your Eddie.

You listen to the last message, sent twenty five minutes ago.

“I’m coming over in thirty minutes, I don’t care if you don’t want to see me. We are going to talk this out. I love you.”

You huff in frustration, though you can’t say you aren’t relieved. Relieved that he’s coming, that he’s not giving up over some quarrel about Chrissy Cunningham. You have a tendency to think the entire world is caving in around you upon one minor inconvenience. This disruption in your daily routine feels like Armageddon.

You have time to brush your teeth and rinse the remaining paste off of your mouth before your front door opens. If you didn’t recognize his footsteps so well, it might be off putting to have someone just waltz into your home.

The bathroom door is open, so he spots you immediately, slipping off his worn in boots and placing them beside the door. He takes his leather jacket off and puts it over the stool that sits at your kitchen island. It makes your face hot, still. The ease in which you two have melded into each others lives. Even if you’re angry at him.

“I don’t know what to say, Ed’s.” It’s a lie. You walk past him to the kitchen and open the fridge, hiding from his gaze as you pretend to search for something. He clears his throat and you reluctantly close the refrigerator door, staring at the floor and backing yourself against the sink.

“I just - you’ve never left. Without telling me. Or talking to me. And, fuck I-“ he’s stammering already, taking steady breaths and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t think I had to tell you about an insignificant interaction with Chrissy Cunningham.”

You scoff, although it’s more of a giggle. And he looks at you like you’ve just lost your mind. Rare, for Eddie Munson to think someone else has lost their mind.

“Well you and Steve sure seemed to enjoy talking about it. You both were pretty giddy discussing whether or not Chrissy wanted to, or, sorry -“ you’re being defensive. Rude. You can’t help it. “wants to fuck you. Why would I want to hear about that? Why would I want to hear you guys talk about whether or not you both can see you and Chrissy together? Does that not sound incredibly fucked up, Ed’s?”

So much for not talking. Now it’s spilling out like a cracked flower vase. Your chest is heaving rapidly, face and body hot with anger. Your arms are crossed across your chest, a protection against whatever it is he might say, despite the fact that you’re the one who’s being rhetorical.

He shoves his ringed fingers into his hair, scratching his scalp and pulling lightly at the roots as he closes his eyes, contemplating. Seeing things through your eyes, attempting to. He winces.

“That’s not what we were trying to say,” he bites his cheek. “I mean I know it doesn’t matter what we were trying to say, the conversation shouldn’t have happened, but I can’t take it back. For fucks sake.”

He’s murmuring to himself, rubbing his rough palms over his tired face. He’s wearing one of your favorite tee shirts of his to steal. Iron Maiden. The sleeves are short enough to reveal the splattering of ink that crawls up his biceps. When his muscles move underneath his skin, the ink moves with them. It’s captured your attention suddenly, and now you’re raking your eyes over his entire figure.

Familiar black sweats cling onto his lower half. They fit perfectly on his lithe waist, loose on the rest. Except for his ass. He has a really cute ass. And these sweats specifically accentuate the shape before billowing down his thighs.

“Baby? You with me?”

The low timbre of his voice shakes you from your reverie. You’ve simmered off, the anger replaced with a different heat. It’s been too long since the two of you have just been together, this fight might be the most communication you’ve had in the past week due to your jobs, and school. Or the worries of the world, the overwhelming need to sleep when you aren’t working, to work when you aren’t sleeping.

You’ve forgotten about each other. Briefly, but not inevitably. Never that. You feel like you may collapse.

“I’m- yeah I’m with you.”

You let out a sigh, uncrossing your arms. You look and sound as defeated as you feel. He can’t pretend to not have noticed your silky, thin sleeping gown, but he is just a man. And your nipples are hard underneath the garment and he has never not thought you’re one of the most beautiful creatures he’s ever seen. You haven’t worn it in a while, preferring his clothes to sleep in since you’ve been staying with him. He missed seeing you like this.

He steps closer. Tentatively, afraid you might run away from him. You sense his hesitancy and a piece of your heart breaks, the piece where he lives. You meet his eyes, silently inviting him, glancing from his mouth then back up to his softening gaze. You watch his Adam’s Apple bob in his throat.

“I’m sorry.” He says, earnestly. His hands threaten to tremble when you reach out and grab them, heavy in your own. He hovers above you the closer he gets, your limbs connecting in a symbiotic way. One you feel the others skin, you can’t get away from it. Not until you’re pressed together, belly to belly, your chin tilted upward.

“You - ugh.” You can’t get words out anymore. They dissolve in your larynx and your head falls, the need to cry or scream or kiss him an overwhelming choice.

“I know baby, I know. I’m sorry.” He pats down your hair, rough thumbs caressing the softness of your cheeks. He pulls your face upwards again, staring down at you with regret, adoration, hunger.

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have just left.”

He leans closer, till you smell the coffee on his breath and the hazelnut creamer alike. Your noses bump and rub against the other, his thick eyelashes fanning across his own cheekbones - casting a fluttery shadow.

“It’s okay now. We’re okay now.” He says it softly, just between the little space left between you two. “Let me take care of it. Please.” He closes the gap.

Some people assume it’s not supposed to feel as good as it does, kissing someone who’s lips you’ve mapped out like an atlas. That couldn’t be further from the truth, because kissing Eddie feels like being consumed.

And not just metaphorically, because it’s evident in the nips to your bottom lip, the sucking of your tongue whenever he feels it lick his teeth; that your small period of separation, and longer period of not having indulged each other, has weighed heavily on him as well. He’s starving.

You’re overtaken within seconds by the veracity of his mouth, your fingers taking purchase in the curls at his crown. Smacks and kisses and wet noises fill the small space, and the center of your stomach swells with a simmering heat. A reminder of how neglectful you both have been. Your nipples harden against him, as his dick twitches between his legs.

You feel nervous. Tentative. Excited.

His hands implore you like a new discovery, grasping at your back, and then down the sensitive slopes of your sides and over the plushness of your hips. Through the silky nightgown the sensation is riveting, enough to drive a person insane. You arch against him, and a whimper escapes your mouth into his throat.

“Mmm, mhm.” He groans.

“Eddie,” it’s a cry, wanton sound that makes him rut himself against you instinctively. Anything to relieve you. Anything to relieve himself. “baby.”

He smiles against your mouth, pecking it a few times before departing only for a second to see your kiss bitten lips, his and your spit coating your mouth. Your blown out pupils. He mirrors your appearance, like a wild creature.

“Never again,” his index fingers knuckle strokes the inside of your thigh, and you shudder, holding onto his broad shoulders for an anchor. You separate your legs without thinking. “we will never go through this again. I’m gonna make sure of it.”

Three knuckles stroke your pubic mound, then down your covered slit where dampness threatens to leak. Your fingernails grip his shirt, eyebrows furrowed and lips parted in anticipation. He’s so warm, so palpable. You want him to bury himself inside of you.

He’s in front of you, and then he’s not. You blink, and hair tickles your thighs like you’re frolicking through an overgrown field. Strong, rough hands lift the delicate silk of your nightie until it’s being bunched between ringed fingers above your navel. He’s on his knees, devout for you.

You gasp when his tongue broadens against your center. Your panties are just enough barrier to make you wanna cry out in desperation, while also offering enough sensation to not dare stop for even a moment to pull them off. You’re at his mercy. Or is he at yours? Neither of you know anymore, and it’s not important.

Not when he gets a taste of you. Not when he peers up at you between lust sodden lashes and sees you looking down at him like you’re about to crumble. Your knees shake and he bunches the nightie in one fist instead of two, placing his free hand on the back of your thighs to steady you while he soaks your underwear with the spit from his tongue.

The shape of your slit and the plump lips around it begins to show its phantom form through the material from the soaking. He sucks, prods with the tip of his wet muscle.

“Ed’s, fuck.” Your voice is so weak. His cock weeps in his sweats, dribbling with copious amounts of precum. It’s torturous to not touch himself but he’s too focused on watching you, pleasing you. You hums against your mound, mocking you.

He pulls the elastic to the side, not patient enough to take them off all the way. You get to see his face for a split second, cherry red cheeks and a messy halo of hair and stubble on his chin. And then, you feel it.

His nose keeps your lips separated, his tongue already splayed against the soft, sensitive flesh between them. You’re slick and sticky and coating the lower half of his face, though you have trouble grasping onto the helms of reality when he’s licking your pussy like this. He shakes his head from side to side, tongue still flat until he’s spreading your thighs farther, so that he can lick your honey from the source.

“Hold it.” He mumbles, struggling to hand the falling material of your night gown to your shaking hands, though you get the memo when it threatens to cover his head completely. You use one hand to hold it, and the other to tug at his hair.

You can barely hear anything another than the sloppy wetness of his mouth working on you, and the sound of your own heartbeat, but you’re sure you’re whining. You can feel the rawness of your throat as you let your head fall back and cry to the ceiling, feeling the need to tear up.

You grip the roots of his locks, rocking against his mouth like you’ve got no other choice. He hums, encouraged by every squeak and moan that comes out of you, by every drip of your cunt and tensing of your muscles.

He doesn’t care that your thighs are squeezing around his head, or that you can barely hold yourself together. You’re using his face like second nature and his cock weeps in his pants. He feels himself throbbing in tandem with the pulsing of your hole around his tongue.

Then he pulls your lips apart with his thumbs, revealing the pink bud that resides underneath your hood, suckling and coating it with enough spit to drip onto the floor.

“Oh god,” you pant “m’gonna cum. Please don’t stop please please please.”

You’re throttled, and not just by the pleasure but by how fast you’re descending into your own madness. You can’t hear much of anything, see anything but the back of your own eyelids - and your boyfriend is using half of his strength to keep your body upwards as you threaten to wilt.

He doesn’t stop, per your request but to your ultimate demise. You feel yourself leaking as your clit throbs from the aftershocks of a powerful - much needed and thoroughly missed, orgasm.

You think you might pass out, but he feels the trembling in your body and despite his need to keep going until you’re completely done for, all but comatose- he stops.

Through your clouded and hazy senses, your hands tug at his face, his head, his neck. Lazily you attempt to pull him up from his knees, and it’s not your strength that does it, it’s his own. But he lets you believe you pulled him to your mouth, before he even has the chance to wipe your essence off. Not that he cares to.

Your tongues collide in a messy exploration, he’s rough and saccharine and sweet all at once. Your paw at him like you’ve never felt him before, like he didn’t just have his mouth on your most private of parts.

“I need you in me.” You slur the words between open mouthed kisses. He’s pressed so flush against you that you can feel his dick throbbing, and you’re not sure if the wetness is your own or his. Perhaps both.

You’re hungry for it. He’s still starving, and your fingers clumsily pull the waistband of his sweats down until they’re pooled at his ankles. You wrap your hand around the thick member, angrily red at the tip, veins bulging from either side. The thatch of curly hair at his base is covered by his shirt but you don’t have the energy to remove it- to do anything other than ogle at the blood rushing through him, the feel of his pulse through his manhood. He throws his head back for a split second, taking a deep breath.

You turn around, facing the sink and resting your cheek against the cool metal of the edge. You offer yourself to him like this, an invitation in the form of a leaking cunt and buckling knees. His hands, rough and wide pull this godforsaken nightgown up and over the swell of your ass, knuckles grazing the back of your thighs in the process.

You want to look at him but you’re far too flustered, ironically. It’s completely idiotic to still be embarrassed at your own need for your own boyfriend - but someone as beautiful as Eddie doesn’t come around very often. Getting to do this feels like retribution.

“You’re so pretty,” he groans, out of breath. He crudely spits on his cock, you can hear the slick sounds of his precum mixing with his saliva as he strokes himself a few times, one hand on your left hip while he guides his mauve tip to your slit.

“I’m gonna fuck all that attitude away baby.”

The stretch is jarring and unexpected, but the sounds you both make as he sticks himself passed your gummy entrance isn’t. You grip the counter, and he leans his weight over you so that he can mouth at your shoulders while he pushes himself in to the hilt- kissing your cervix before his cock moved around it.

“Yeah?” He taunts, hair tickling your back and lips smearing kisses against your nape. “You’re so goddamn wet, this is all you needed huh?”

He’s genuine within the ruggedness of his voice. Within seconds he’s pulling himself out and shoving himself back in with something fierce driving him. He’s unforgiving in his pace once he gets into a comfortable stance, kicking his sweats off of his ankles and planting his feet behind you.

It’s a symphony of sticky, wet sounds, and grunts with compositions of skin against skin in your small kitchen. It’s been so long since you’ve felt him, since he’s felt you. He’s not just fucking you from the back, he’s mounting you - panting lewdly in your ear while his hands snake themselves around your shoulders.

You cry out, nothing coherent leaving your mouth. Your poor cunt was still contracting from the orgasm he gave you with his mouth when shoved himself inside of you, and now that little spongey spot is being brutally massaged over and over again with each stroke.

“That’s - s-so - good.” Your words are staccato, followed by petulant whines. You’re thankful for his hit breath on your neck, the groans leaving him, the weight of his body behind you. He’s close while still delivering a delicious punishment - a fucking that’s meant to make you forget about anything that’s happened this past week.

“Awe baby, it feels good hmm? You - fucking hell-“

His balls tighten and he knows he’s gonna cum soon, he’s too caught up in how you’re squeezing around him, throbbing from the inside out with your admiration for him. You try to reach back and touch him, but he holds your arms in front of you, a sort of embrace and restraint all in one.

“need to cum baby, need to show you how much I love you. Need to fill you - oh baby - need to fill you all the way. That’s it - there you go there you go, I know.”

He kisses your cheek where a tear falls down, your knees beginning to tremble again in tandem with his own. He ruts and ruts and ruts, your cream coating his cock, your warmth swallowing him whole.

He pulls out, and you think you might start weeping, till he turns you around by your waist and licks the inside of your parted lips. He hiked your leg up around his lithe waist, bends his knees and maneuvers his hips forward so that he can slide back into you.

Now that he can see your face, and you can see his, you both feel cathartic.

You hang onto his shoulders, clawing at his curls and he holds your face, damp lips centimeters away from your own while your foreheads rest against each other. You look down to watch him disappear inside of you, and you marvel at it. Your juices and the sounds they make, how pretty his dick looks coated in your release and his own pre ejaculate.

“M’so fucking deep,” he’s shaking now, sweat beading down his neck. His bottom lip quivers and you begin to realize how this must feel for him as well. How badly you both needed the other. “it feels so fucking good, so good so good so good.”

He’s babbling and you pull his mouth to yours again, suckling on his tongue. With some foreign strength, you use your voice.

“Please cum, I love you Eddie. I want you to cum for me please please, I can’t take it. Cum for me cum for me cum for me I love you.”

He thinks he might cry, he’s so fucking deep when you wrap your arms around him, when your hips are connected so closely that you can’t tell where one of you begins and the other one ends - when the sweet lullaby that is your voice serenades him, begs him to let go.

“Oh god, oh fuck I’m - fuuuuck.”

He tightens, stuttering inside of you while small gasps of pleasure leave him like hiccups. You inhale the scent of his hair, feel the rise and fall of his breath from between his shoulder blades. You’re both twitching, barely standing. A mess, and certainly a sight to see.

He stays like that for a few moments, just enough for all of his cum to dribble out from the tip and into you. When he pulls out, the sound is audible and crude, and he swears to himself he will clean the mess on your kitchen floor.

You don’t know who kisses who first.

Both of you go for the others neck, cheeks, forehead. Gently, with enough love to fill an entire universe itself. It’s a juxtaposition to the way you just had each other. It’s love. Pure, unadulterated, sickeningly sweet to the melancholy.

“I’m staying here tonight,” he kisses your eyelids, then your nose, out of breath. “and I’m gonna make breakfast in the morning. We are never letting this happen again.”

You scratch his scalp.

“Which part? Cause-“ he rolls his eyes, smiling boyishly. Enough to show his dimples, flash his teeth.

“You know which part, I’ll give you whatever you want. But I’m never going this long without being around you. Not ever.”

He’s devout, sincere in a way that is irrevocable. You don’t argue, don’t wince, don’t make a face. You nod, suckling his bottom lip.

You listen.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn #eddie munson x you #Eddie Munson au #joseph quinn x reader #Eddie Munson Drabble #Eddie Munson imagine

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pomefioredove · 5 months

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Hiya! Do you think you could write something romantic and fluffy with Vil? I love him!

hi anon of course! I am so unwell about this man

summary: being friends with vil schoenheit has its perks type of post: fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, FLUFFY, mentions of food, friends to lovers huhuhu, maybe a tiny bit suggestive but also not really? lap-sitting and kissing

Someone should write a guide on how to be friends with Vil Schoenheit.

It did not come as naturally to you as you would have hoped. There were times when he felt like a star in your presence, not the actor kind, but the heavenly body.

Bright, and burning, and millions of miles away. Even as he sat directly across from you.

"You're not eating," he remarks. The comment is not degrading, though it is tinged with curiosity. "Is it bad?"

You haven't even sampled the meal yet- something fancy and expensive that you likely couldn't pronounce. He'd ordered it for you.

"It's okay," you lie.

He either buys your excuse, or ignores it. Either way, he reaches across the gossamer table cloth and switches your plates without asking.

Vil Schoenheit Friendship Survival Manual, rule number one: always assume his judgment is correct, until proven otherwise.

You look down at the plate- some kind of vegetable dish. He urges you on with a nod, lilac eyes fixed firmly on your pleasantly surprised reaction when you take a bite.

Rule number two: his judgment is always correct.

"Better?" he asks, not bothering to finish your food. He'll likely get something else later. "You really shouldn't skip meals. If you were feeling unwell, you should have said so. I would've ordered something lighter for you."

"Sorry. Didn't think of it," you say, taking another bite of his meal, if only to appease him.

You're hesitant to mention that the heavy feeling in your chest wasn't from illness, and so you say nothing more.

"No need to apologize. Here,"

Vil delicately reaches across the table and dabs at the corner of your mouth with his napkin. You hate how light-headed such a simple action makes you feel.

"Better. And don't worry about smudging anything, I have a few new products I'd like to try out on you later,"

Rule number three: always accept his gifts.

"Thanks," you murmur.

You were starting to feel as if you really were ill, the way your entire body warmed in his presence. Vil brought out a feverish sort of stupidity in you that made outings like this a minefield to navigate.

How painfully cliché, you thought. Hopelessly in love with someone far out of your league, with infinite options, none of which you could even hope to catch up to...

It made these evenings together pure torture.

You felt guilty for wishing he wasn't such an amazing friend. Must he insist on showering you in gifts and holding your hand every time you cross the street?

But being in his bedroom is another, dirtier realm of guilt. Vil saw you as a friend. Platonic. Someone he confided in, who he took under his wing. You were allowed to see parts of him no one else had, and yet, you can hardly pay attention to what he's saying because you can't stop thinking about the way his lips look when he speaks.

"Did you understand any of that?" he asks, bending down to your level as you sit on his bed. On his bed. And you had the mind to be thinking about doing romantic things...

Rule number four: speak when spoken to.

"No, sorry, I've just had a lot on my mind lately,"

Vil clicks his tongue and holds a hand to your forehead, feeling for temperature. "And you're sure you're not ill?"

"I'm fine! Just distracted,"

He chuckles, walking across the room to peruse his vanity. "Hm... and what sort of thoughts have got you scatterbrained today?"

You can feel your skin burning again. He could tell, couldn't he? All these weeks of coming undone every time he so much as looks your way couldn't have gone over his head... could they?

Or perhaps he was just used to people staring at him, stumbling over their words every time he spoke. Perhaps you were just another foolish fan who'd gotten to know him before falling in love.

You couldn't help but wish that there was someone or something that would just tell you what to do.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him.

Vil sits beside you, a small, wooden box in hand.

"I'm supposed to promote these next weekend, but I'm not sure about them, yet," he says, opening the lid to reveal a plethora of lipsticks that likely cost more than your existence. "I'll need your opinion, of course."

"Right," you murmur.

"And I'd like to try them on you, as well,"

"Of course,"

"And you're alright with that?"

You nod. Ever the gentleman, always asking for permission. He's been quite generous with his products lately, giving them away to you like candy. You're almost certain he has a full list of your allergens somewhere.

Vil returns to the vanity, delicately prepping, and then applying the first shade. It's a marvelous, metallic pink, with dark red undertones that make it a regal color. It suits him, and you say as much.

"Oh, you think so? I suppose it does compliment my eyes, although I'd definitely need to pair it with something darker, else it become too overpowering..."

He clicks his tongue, and then turns to look over his shoulder at you.

"Your turn. Come sit,"

There isn't another chair at the vanity, and you take that as your cue to awkwardly stand in front of him until he tells you what to do. He chuckles, amused by some thought of his that he doesn't share aloud.

"What are you standing there for? Sit,"

You awkwardly look around the space, eyes searching for a mysteriously hidden stool, something that should have been obvious...

He smiles. "Oh, don't be shy. We've known each other long enough by now, haven't we?"

You can't think of the right thing to ask, although your thoughts are quickly cut off by the sight of him gently patting his lap.

Sevens. If there were any time to wake up, this was it.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him.

He's not joking, of course. Vil hardly jokes. And so, you awkwardly straddle his lap, facing towards him, and allow him to get a good look at your visage.

He holds your chin firmly, studying your features as if he hasn't already seen them a thousand times before.

"Stay still,"

He's going to give you a heart attack, and there's a little quirk in his smile that tells you he knows it, too.

You wonder what your tag at the morgue will say. Death by Vil Schoenheit?

He starts with your skin, commenting on how soft it's gotten since he met you, then your eyes...

...Once he's satisfied, as he always is with his work, he turns your head so you can admire the makeup look in the mirror behind you.

"Stunning," he comments. "But you're missing something."

You look back, eyes wide. Surely, he hadn't forgotten something...? That's simply not in his nature.

He smiles at your confusion. "Remember? You promised to test these for me?"

Right. The lipstick. You nod. "Yes, but, I thought you'd already..."

"Oh, I do like the color. I'm just worried about this brand," Vil says. He looks away for a moment, almost as if to summon his courage... what a strange expression on him.

"What's wrong with the brand?"

He turns back with a small smirk. "They have a nasty reputation for smudging easily. I wouldn't want to make a fool of myself next weekend, hm?"

His cups your chin again, bringing you closer.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him!

He tilts his head to the side. "You don't mind, do you?"

You couldn't have shaken your head any faster, even with his grip on your chin.

"Good. Now, stay still. I think this will be a good color on you, anyway,"

He pulls you in with ease, letting his lips rest on yours for a second or two, before pulling back. Short but sweet, enough to make you feel like your entire body has gone numb.

He inspects your face, humming to himself...

"Good so far," he says, bringing you closer again. "But that was too safe. I won't hold back next time. Are you ready?"

You nod. Barely anything had happened, and you're already breathless. "Ready,"

Another smile crosses his perfect face, though he doesn't give you any time to admire it before he's kissing you again, one hand still cupping your face, the other holding the back of your neck and pressing you closer.

Definitely not a very platonic kiss.

It takes him longer to pull away this time, though when he does, it gives you a perfect view of his still-pristine makeup.

"Hmm... still nothing. I'm quite impressed with this line," he says, reaching behind you and returning with the wooden box. "How do you feel?"

Dizzy. Light-headed. Warm.

"Good," you say.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him.

Or do.

"Not too much, I hope?"

A delightful realization was beginning to come over you, one that made all you had thought about him null and void:

No one else could possibly give you a guide on Vil Schoenheit, because he writes the rules himself.

"No. That was perfect,"

"Excellent," he smiles, and flips the box open again. "Because we still have six more colors to test."

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #GAH.

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arrthurpendragon · 11 months

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⌨️ + Safe and Sound!!!

For a brief moment, Lady Catalea smiled at Ziv whose head was bowed to greet her future queen. Cori’iana was surprised that Lady Catalea even knew how to smile and that her face wasn’t permanently plastered with a look of disgust. Catalea motioned for Ziv to rise and Cori’iana knew that Catalea’s attention and wrath would soon be solely upon her and she was ready for it. Lady Catalea could bluster all she wanted at the end of the day this visit was about Baethea’s independence.

Cori’iana remained tight-lipped as her diplomatic smile grew weary. She would allow Lady Catalea to think she had the upper hand - for now at least. Let the young woman get her grievances out now and not on the negotiating table. The sooner they were past all of this, the sooner Baethea could see to her freedom. Inwardly, Cori’iana braced herself for whatever course of action Lady Catalea chose to direct her way.

“Lady Cori’iana Sanandrassa,” Lady Catalea addressed her, her voice cold and void of any emotion. There wasn’t any name-calling yet, so they were off to the best start they probably could have. “I see your queen is testing my patience.”

After a quick hum to herself, Cori’iana evenly responded, “Lady Catalea Adonis. Naboo is happy to receive you and your entourage.” As Cori’iana gave a small bow of her head, she selfishly hoped that her kill them with kindness approach brought some ire to Lady Catalea. Selfishly, of course. Cori’iana wasn’t perfect and her demeanor had hardened a bit since stepping down as queen. But there was no love lost between these two women - Lady Catalea Adonis and Lady Cori’iana Sanandrassa. But diplomatically, Cori’iana knew this was her job to her Queen and to her people. And she would perform that role to the best of her ability.

After a deep breath, Cori’iana stood upright once more and forced another smile. “I shall be your escort as I show you to the palace chambers where Queen Amidala is waiting.”

It brought Cori'iana slight satisfaction knowing that she was very likely the last person Lady Catalea wanted to perform this duty. Only slight satisfaction though, because while she hadn’t expressed her dissatisfaction with the job to Padme, she had hoped that it would befall another to escort Lady Catalea. But Padme trusted her. So Cori'iana would do her duty.

Send me ⌨ + title to one of my fics and I’ll write a sentence for that fic!

#oc: cori'iana sanandrassa #fic: safe & sound #fd: star wars #day🏹#cory🌻#pillow buddy #oc: catalea adonis #oc: ziv fraillin #fic: heavenly light #send me a fic and i'll write a sentence game

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nanamis-baker · 1 month

Text

Pizza date with Satoru

Summary: After a cancelled date, you and Satoru bake pizza together ♡ Content: Fluff, kinda suggestive. Tried making it wholesome too! 🫶 Word Count: 3.7k a/n: Hello you guys! I really wanted to write some Gojo fluff after whoring him out so here we are! I hope you like this! Also, big big BIG thank you to Nici @lostfracturess for helping me make this fic 10x better. She is the best!🌷 Oh, and you might find this similar to Bake Date, if you have read it, because both the fics have similar actions in them. But nonetheless, I really hope you enjoy reading this!

Satoru held you close as he fumbled with the keys, the click-clack of metal drowned out by the relentless drumming of rain on the roof. You shivered, the dampness seeping into your bones despite Satoru's warmth. His jacket, while a comforting shield, did little to keep away the cold. Droplets of water dripped down from your hair and clothes, leaving dark patches on the carpet below your feet.

As always, Satoru was pristine, his sorcerer uniform spotless amidst the chaos of the storm raging outside. "Stupid infinity," you muttered as a playful exasperation colouring your voice. A chuckle rumbled in his chest as he finally unlocked the door, the scent of home and Satoru's familiar cologne washing over you.

He gently removed his jacket from your shoulders as you glanced outside the kitchen window. The world outside was a blur of grey, the once vibrant Tokyo skyline muted by the downpour. Disappointment gnawed at you. Date nights were invaluable treasures for the two of you, carved out of busy schedules filled with sorcerer duties and teaching the students. Tonight was supposed to be one such night, and the two of you were supposed to go to this charming Italian place, but the rain had other plans.

"Looks like our plans are foiled," you sighed, the craving for sourdough pizza suddenly overwhelming. “I was really craving their pizza.”

Satoru hummed softly, his hands cupping your damp cheeks. His thumb traced your lower lip, sending a wave of warmth through you. With a gentle smile, he pressed a kiss to your forehead. His eyes, a striking blue that mirrored the sky on a clear day, stood in stark contrast to the stormy chaos outside. A sense of calm emanated from him. "Don't worry, love," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm. "We'll figure something out." The way he sounded, you could tell he was already planning something.

A playful glint sparked in his eyes as he added, "But first, you need to warm up. Wouldn't you want to catch a cold, now would we?" he said teasingly.

A playful scowl crossed your face. "You're lucky I love you," you retorted, though the chill had already begun to seep into your bones. A hot shower sounded increasingly appealing. "One of these days, I will figure out a way to get you drenched in the rain too," you vowed, a mischievous grin tugging at your lips.

Satoru chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I look forward to it," he teased. "But for now, let's get you out of those wet clothes."

Before you could say anything else, another shiver ran down your spine. Yes, a warm shower sounded heavenly.

The shower washed away the chill from your bones, leaving you feeling refreshed and enveloped in the cosy warmth of Satoru's sweatshirt. You padded out of the bathroom, eager to be in his presence. Usually, Satoru waits for you in the bedroom, but right now, the bedroom was empty. With your curiosity piqued, you ventured into the kitchen.

The moment you stepped inside, your breath caught in your throat. The once ordinary space had been transformed into a cosy, warm space. The rain-streaked windows cast dancing shadows on the walls, while the soft, golden glow of kitchen lights and the warm scent of apple cinnamon from the candles filled the air. Soft notes of classical music reached your ears, their gentle melody soothing your soul.

Satoru was hovering over the counter, his back turned towards you as he placed some mixing bowls on the platform. When he heard you walk in, he turned to face you, a smile instantly lighting up his face. He was clad in a navy turtleneck, his hair sticking out from places, yet somehow gracefully framing his face. But what stood out the most was an unexpected apron with small floral prints and olive green border that adorned his lean, muscular frame.

"You were craving sourdough pizza, right?" he asked, his voice soft as he gestured towards the counter. The counter was organised perfectly, with every ingredient laid out meticulously. Flour, tomatoes and a vibrant array of herbs awaited, as if ready to serve their purpose. And there, amidst all these ingredients, sat a small, unlabeled jar.

Intrigued, you reached for it, your fingers brushing against the cool glass as you removed the lid to see its gooey, bubbly contents. A sourdough starter! Your eyes widened in surprise. "Where did you get this?" you asked, disbelief colouring your voice. You and Satoru rarely cooked; a sourdough starter wasn’t something one would find lying around in your kitchen.

Satoru chuckled, amused at your astonishment. "Let's just say I owe Nanami a big favour," he confessed, his eyes sparkling under the golden lights that filled your kitchen.

Nanami! Of course, Nanami was the man who would have such things just lying around in his house. The realisation hit you like a wave of warmth. "You asked Nanami!" you exclaimed, still in disbelief.

Satoru nodded, a proud grin spreading across his face. "He was happy to help when I told him it was for you. Good thing you two are such great friends."

A soft smile tugged at your lips. You couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for both Satoru and Nanami.

Satoru grabbed your apron and moved behind you, helping you put it on and tying the apron strings together, his hands lingering on your waist. He pressed his lips right on the spot behind your ear before pulling you into his gentle embrace, his arms wrapping around you.

"Ready to get your hands dirty, hm?" he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. A surge of excitement pulsed through you as you nodded eagerly. "That's my girl," he murmured, pressing a final kiss to your cheek before squeezing your waist gently.

He reached for the recipe, his tall frame hovering over you. You skimmed through the instructions, a sense of anticipation growing. "This doesn't look too complicated," you commented, glancing up at him. The soft glow of the kitchen highlighted his striking features, making him look almost ethereal. He nodded, his eyes scanning the page. "Yeah, seems pretty straightforward," he agreed.

With that, Satoru began washing and preparing the vegetables - something he couldn’t do earlier, while you began measuring the dry ingredients for the dough. It was a simple task – flour and salt – but you approached it with precision, making sure it was the exact amount as mentioned in the recipe. As you measured, a splashing sound erupted from the sink.

Startled, you turned to see Satoru standing there, droplets of water clinging to him. He'd accidentally cranked the tap to full blast as he held the tomatoes under the tap, and since his infinity normally didn’t activate around you, the splashes had reached him.

Tiny droplets of water clung to his hair, and droplets raced down his face, some disappearing into the collar of his sweater. You couldn't help the laughter that escaped your lips and Satoru shot you a look of amused surprise.

Reaching for a stack of paper towels, you gently dabbed at his face, your fingers brushing against his damp skin. "I told you I'd find a way to get you wet," you teased, your voice light and playful.

Satoru chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He brushed away the remaining water droplets, his gaze lingering on your hand as he tilted his head. With a tender smile, he placed a soft kiss on the inside of your palm. "Well, good thing I don't need to find ways to get you wet," he retorted, his voice low and teasing. His arms found your waist once again, drawing you closer to his heated body.

Another chuckle escaped your lips as you playfully swatted his shoulder. "You know what? You're demoted from this position. Go and prepare the dough."

Satoru's smile widened, revealing a flash of white teeth. “Whatever you say, my love,” He said softly before placing a kiss on your cheeks, taking the spot you once occupied and started preparing the dough.

You started working on the vegetables, arranging the tomatoes on the baking tray before filling the empty space with garlic and onion. ignoring the recipe's modest suggestion, you generously filled the gaps, trusting your instincts. Who uses only three cloves of garlic anyways? When you were done, you drizzled a generous amount of olive oil over the prepared vegetables, before putting it in the heated oven to roast.

With that done, you turned your attention to Satoru, who seemed to be engrossed in the sourdough starter. He reached for the jar, unscrewing the lid as a peculiar scent filled the kitchen, a mix of tangy and earthy notes that was both intriguing and off-putting. Satoru peered into the jar, his nose scrunching up in slight disgust. It was a comical sight - Satoru had exorcised countless curses, yet sourdough starter was disgusting to him. "This seems to be… alive," he muttered, lilting the jar towards you so you can have a look too.

You leaned in, peering into the jar. Indeed, it was a strange sight. The starter was a bubbling, gooey mass. It was fascinating, but slightly repulsive too. "It's like something from a science fiction movie," you commented, a hint of amusement in your voice. “Something you don’t want to fall into.”

Satoru nodded, eying the mixture with scepticism. “If this wasn’t from Nanami, I would have thrown it away by now.”

You hummed in agreement, leaning in closer to get a better look. Your hand rested on his shoulder, your fingers brushing against his hair. "Are you sure Nanami isn't trying to poison your ass?" you teased, a playful glint in your eyes. "Imagine the strongest sorcerer being taken out by food poisoning."

Satoru laughed, a deep, throaty sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "As real as that sounds, you know his wife wouldn't let him. She loves you too much for that." It was true; you were incredibly close to Nanami and his wife. Trusting their judgement, you and Satoru decided to incorporate the starter into the dough. With a splash of water, Satoru began to knead the mixture, his long fingers effortlessly combining the ingredients into an elastic mass.

You leaned against the counter, pulling yourself up into a comfortable sitting position as Satoru worked his magic on the dough. Watching him was oddly mesmerising. The way his strong fingers kneaded the dough, the rhythmic rise and fall of his shoulders, the subtle flex of his arm muscles as he stretched and pressed the dough together - it was a captivating sight.

Your gaze moved to his face, drawn in by the way the soft kitchen light danced across his features. His silvery hair seemed to shimmer with a golden hue, framing his face with a halo-like effect, making him look angelic. His eyelashes cast delicate shadows on his high cheekbones as he focused on the dough, his eyebrows knitting together slightly in concentration.

Out of all the different versions of Satoru you had seen all over the years, this Satoru was your favourite. The carefree Satoru, who didn't seem to be burdened by the responsibility of being the strongest. Not the six-eye user, but simply your Satoru, grounded in the mundane, yet radiating an undeniable charm.

Satoru’s hands abruptly stopped as he felt your gaze heating his skin. His eyes found yours, something dark swimming in them. “Keep looking at me like that love, and pizza would be the last thing we'll be making,” he said, his voice low. Satoru’s fingers retracted from the dough as he moved to settle between your knees, leaving the dough unattended on the counter.

Maintaining eye contact, his large hand grabbed your sides, pulling you closer till you were on the edge of the counter, the space between your bodies disappearing. You wrapped your hands around his neck, fingers combing through his hair - his undercut - oh how much you loved his undercut. His scent, so uniquely Satoru, filled your senses as he leaned in, his breath warm against the already heated skin of your cheeks.

"What will we be doing, then?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper as you searched his face. Satoru just smiled, his eyes twinkling. Before you could process his intent, his lips found yours, capturing your attention completely. His hands roamed over your back, pulling you impossibly closer as he deepened the kiss. A low moan escaped your lips, a sound that seemed to encourage him further. The kitchen, the rain, the music - everything faded away, replaced by the intoxicating sensation of his touch and the warmth of his lips.

You knew what he was doing - this was just an aper��u, a tantalising tease, a glimpse of what may come. But you devoured it nonetheless, leaning into his touch, savouring every stolen moment.

But of course, stolen moments don't last forever. The sharp ding of the oven timer startled you both, bringing you back to the present. Reluctantly, Satoru broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as he held you close to his body. A soft, frustrated groan escaped his throat, causing you to chuckle softly. Your arm moved to cup his cheek, your fingers tracing the rough texture of his stubble. His warmth seeped into you, a comforting contrast to the cool stone of the counter.

The oven dinged once again, reminding the two of you of the task in hand. Satoru wordlessly pulled back, his hands lingering on your waist before helping you down from the counter. He grabbed the oven mitts, sliding on the thick fabric even though he didn’t really need it. With a careful grip, he slid the tray out of the oven, the rich aroma of roasted vegetables filling the air as he set the tray down on the counter.

Your attention shifted to the recipe, looking for the next step.You were supposed to blend the vegetables with herbs and spices to create a smooth sauce for the pizza. Allowing the vegetables to cool slightly, you turned your attention to Satoru, as he placed the dough in a bowl, covered with a cloth, and set it near the warm oven to rise.

The two of you worked side by side, the gentle notes of the music creating a soothing ambiance. You began the process of blending the roasted vegetables, adding a pinch of salt and a mix of oregano, rosemary, and basil. The whirring of the blender filled the kitchen as the ingredients transformed into a smooth, fragrant sauce. You could feel Satoru's gaze on you as you worked, his silent observation making your cheeks warm.

Taking a spoonful of the sauce, you tasted the mixture, a satisfied smile spreading across your face. You turned to Satoru, holding out the spoon, inviting him to taste the sauce. His warm hand enveloped yours as he guided the spoon to his lips. He tasted the sauce, his eyes closing briefly as he savoured the flavour. "Oh, this is really good," he said, licking his lips to capture the lingering taste. The smile on your lips turned even bigger. "Really? It's not too spicy for you?" you asked, remembering he wasn’t a big fan of spicy food. He shook his head, a genuine smile playing on his lips. "No, it's perfect love," he replied.

Now that everything was ready, it was time to assemble the pizza. The dough had risen beautifully, doubling in size. A proud smile spread across Satoru’s face as he dusted the counter with flour, then gently extracted the dough from the bowl. He divided the dough into two equal portions, each one soft and pliable.

You grabbed the rolling pin and handed it to Satoru and he began to roll out the first base. The dough was surprisingly elastic, shrinking back at every attempt. Laughter bubbled up as you watched him struggle with the dough. You decided to take over, using your fingers to gently coax the dough into shape, making the edges slightly thicker than the rest of the base. To Satoru's amusement, you managed to create a perfect circle and a whimsical heart shaped base.

Satoru spread a generous layer of the prepared sauce over the bases, creating a vibrant canvas for the toppings and cheese to go on.

While he focused on the sauce, you gathered your favourite toppings, arranging them on the pizza. With a sprinkle of oregano and a handful of grated mozzarella, you transformed the plain dough into a mouth-watering masterpiece. Finally, you transferred the two pizzas onto the baking tray, the anticipation building with each passing second.

With a satisfied nod, Satoru slid the trays into the pre-heated oven, the comforting hiss of heat filling the room. Turning to you, he said, "Now we wait." Nodding your head, you echoed his words, a smile playing on your lips as your eyes were glued to the oven, a wave of gratitude crashing over you.

You turned to Satoru, your eyes sparkling with gratitude. Reaching for his hand, you squeezed it gently. "Thank you so much for arranging all of this, Satoru. It was so much more fun than just going to a cafe," you confessed, your voice filled with warmth.

Satoru squeezed your hand back, a smile gracing his lips. "Hey, no need to thank me, you deserve this," he replied, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

As the two of you waited for the pizza to bake, the music playing in the background took a familiar turn. Your favourite melody filled the room, its soft notes creating a warm ambiance. Satoru turned to you, a knowing look on his face as his eyes met yours. His arms found your waist, pulling you close. "Come here," he murmured, his voice low and inviting. You melted into his embrace, your arms wrapping around his muscular frame as he guided you to the centre of the kitchen.

It was still raining outside, and the sky had turned pitch dark. Somehow, it felt as if nothing existed beyond this kitchen. The kitchen felt like your world - a world you shared with Satoru, lit up by the warm glow of the oven and the soft lights.

Satoru's body pressed against yours as he pulled you closer, a comforting warmth radiating from him. You closed your eyes, letting the music wash over you as you leaned completely into him, your bodies forming a seamless unit. The two of you gently swayed to the music, creating a harmonious dance in the heart of your kitchen.

Satoru buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. You felt a shiver of contentment as he left a soft kiss there, a tender mark of affection. You ensconced your head on his shoulder, your cheek nuzzling into the warmth of his neck. The world seemed to fade away as you held him close, finding solace in the simple act of being together.

The two of you remained wrapped in each other's embrace until the insistent beep of the oven timer broke the spell. Satoru sighed, a note of reluctance in the sound as he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead. You unwillingly pulled away, already missing the warmth of his body against yours, but the promise of pizza was tempting.

The intoxicating aroma of melted cheese and roasted vegetables filled the kitchen as you approached the oven. Peeking inside, your heart skipped a beat. The pizza looked absolutely perfect - the toppings were caramelised to golden perfection, the cheese was bubbling with an irresistible allure, and the crust promised a satisfying crunch.

Satoru effortlessly slid the tray out of the oven, his bare hands unaffected by the heat thanks to his infinity, before placing it on the counter. Satoru grabbed the pizza cutter and began dividing the pie into slices. The circular pizza was simple enough, but the heart-shaped one proved to be a bit of a challenge. But it was Satoru holding the blade - he managed to do it perfectly, of course, while maintaining the pizza’s charming shape.

You grabbed your and Satoru's favourite drinks, pouring them into two glasses before you rearranged the candles and flowers, creating a cosy little dining nook. Satoru placed a steaming slice of pizza on your plate, claiming one for himself as well.

The two of you settled into chairs, the anticipation thick in the air. "You look nervous, love," Satoru commented, his eyes shining with amusement. Your heart raced, a mix of excitement and trepidation bubbling within you. “I am sure it will be amazing - it already looks so good,” Satoru said, reaching for your hand and squeezing it gently. His words were comforting, and he was right too - it was just pizza, why were you feeling so nervous about it?

With a deep breath, you reached for your slice, the warmth of the crust radiating through the plate. As you took a bite, your eyes widened in surprise. The flavours exploded in your mouth, a perfect balance of tangy tomato sauce, the toppings, melted cheese, and the slightly chewy crust.

A small sound escaped your lips, a mixture of delight and satisfaction. Satoru chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I take it, it’s really good?" he asked, picking up his own slice. He took a bite, his expression shifting from anticipation to pure enjoyment. For a second, Satoru looked surprised, "Okay, I knew it would be good but I didn't expect it to be this good."

You laughed, taking another bite. "We are never going to a pizza place now, are we?" The crust was perfectly crisp, the sauce tangy yet sweet, and the cheese melted to gooey perfection. It was everything you had hoped for and more.

The two of you savoured every bite, the silence broken only by the occasional hum of satisfaction. When the last piece was gone, you leaned back in your chair, a contented sigh escaping your lips. Satoru mirrored your actions, a satisfied smile on his face. "Best pizza I've ever had," he declared, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand.

You returned his smile, a sense of accomplishment washing over you. Together, you cleaned up the kitchen, the lingering aroma of pizza filling the space. As you glanced out the window, you noticed the rain had dwindled to a gentle drizzle.

A soft smile graced your lips as you felt Satoru's arms wrap around you from behind as he left a kiss on your shoulder blade. He turned your body so you were facing him, his body creating a comforting barrier between you and the world. With ease, he lifted you onto the counter, his hands finding a secure hold on your thighs. As he settled between your legs, darkened eyes met yours. "Now, we have to take care of some interrupted business from earlier," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. Your smile turned even bigger as his lips captured yours in a tender kiss.

a/n: I think one of these days I am gonna lose my mind because my fics don't show up in the tags ughhh. But that aside, I hope you enjoyed reading this and it bought you some comfort! 🫶🫶 dividers by @/saradika-graphics

#tasha's works ✍️#jujutsu kaisen #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo #gojo saturo #gojo fluff #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru imagine

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wildernessuntothemselves · 17 days

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Soulmate(s) | Part 1

Genre: smut, fluff, angst

Word Count: 3.7

Summary: In a world where you get the name of your soulmate tattooed on your skin the night you turn 21, there should be no reason to even think about fucking around with anyone else. Why would you when you know that the perfect person who is made just for you is somewhere out there waiting for you to find them?

So how the hell did you end up messing around with your two best friends and what are you going to do if neither of them ends up being your soulmate or worse, what if one of them is your soulmate?

Warnings: fem!reader, soulmates au, this is not a light fic, there will be backstabbing and manipulation, sub!soobin, dom!gyu, also sub!gyu, dom!oc, masturbation, handjob, blowjob, dry humping, dirty talk, mentions of panty stealing

It feels so wrong doing this but so right at the same time. You know you’re not supposed to mess around with anyone other than your soulmate. In a world where you get the name of your soulmate tattoed on your skin the night you turn 21, there should be no reason to even think about fucking around with anyone else. Why would you when you know that the perfect person who is made just for you is somewhere out there waiting for you to find them?

And it's not like you have much longer to wait. You're 20 now, just a few months shy of turning 21. You'll know your soulmate's name soon enough. But maybe that's why you're doing this. The idea of only being with one person forever and ever is both exciting and daunting. To only belong to one person–for them to have your first touch, your first kiss, your first everything… It felt a bit overwhelming. That’s how you had somehow convinced Soobin to do this with you.

He is one of your two best friends. Honestly you could’ve equally asked Beomgyu, your other best friend, but he’s such a loud mouth you're scared he would’ve exposed you unintentionally.

So Soobin it was, and he is good. He is sweet and shy and his lips feel heavenly against yours. You can tell he is as nervous as you are, hands timidly holding onto your sides as you clumsily kiss each other. Despite both your inexperience, it still feels good, and for a brief period of time as you’re kissing him, your worries and fears fade into the back of your mind and you think you’ve made the right decision.

It makes sense to explore such an intimate experience with someone you feel so comfortable with. If anything, it may make you better prepared to be mentally and physically present when you do meet your soulmate since you’ll already have gone through these nerve-racking firsts and learned what you like and what you don’t like in a zero-stakes environment. It would take a lot of the stress out of the equation for you. Yes, this seems more and more and more like a good idea by the second.

But of course, it wasn’t a good idea and you’re stupid to think you could get away with it so easily.

“What are you doing?” You hear Beomgyu's loud voice gasp and you both immediately pull away from each other.

“Umm… nothing.” Soobin says dumbly after a long period of silence, making Beomgyu roll his eyes.

“Sure didn't look like nothing. Are you two fucking?”

Now it was your turn to gasp and smack Beomgyu's shoulder. “Don't be disgusting. We were just kissing.”

“How long have you been kissing for?” He pushes curiously and you groan. “Just now. Just this once. I just wanted to know what it feels like before I'm bound to my soulmate forever. Please don't make this a big deal.”

You’re pleading your case, hoping he’d understand why you did this and not expose your ass. But of course, that wasn’t what was on Beomgyu’s mind. “Why didn't you ask me?”

You cringe at the offended tone in his voice. Of course, he’d make this into a competition. “I thought about it but I knew you wouldn't be able to keep your mouth shut.”

“What are you talking about?” He scoffs, now seriously offended. “I'm great at keeping secrets. I didn't tell Soobin that you have a crush on him. I didn’t tell you that I've found a couple of your underwear under Soobin's pillow.”

You and Soobin's eyes widen comically.

“Oops.” Beomgyu grins. That bastard did it on purpose. “Well, I guess the cat's out of the bag. I like you both too and I want to be involved in whatever this is.”

Hold on. Hold on. Soobin likes you? Beomgyu likes you? What the hell is going on? This is too much information at once for your brain to process, and you try to ignore the way it all makes your heart flutter in your chest. You can't think about this too much. Your soulmate's name will be revealed to you soon. It is useless to think about what feelings who has for who.

“There is nothing to be involved in. This is over.” You proclaim and Soobin shoots Beomgyu a glare as if to say ‘thanks for blowing it’, but Beomgyu ignores him and instead rushes to protest, “Why? Why the sudden change of mind, baby? You were very into it just a minute ago.”

You scowl at him. Baby? “Yeah that was before you ruined it.”

“Oh come on, don't tell me you don't want some of this.” Beomgyu says greasily, pulling you by the hips and pressing your body against his body.

Despite what the warmth of his body does to you, you keep the unimpressed look on your face, knowing Beomgyu can do little else but get you in trouble. “Beomgyu, I am seriously going to throw up over you.”

“Okay, okay, I'll tone it down.” He says, but doesn’t make any move to take his hands off you or separate his body from yours. “But seriously, I really want to try this too. I'm nervous about my soulmate too. What if I don't like them?”

You give him a look as if he's stupid and he clarifies, rolling his eyes, “I know I will love them obviously because that’s what’s written for me but what if I don't like them? You understand me?”

“I do.” You hesitate. Is a love you have no choice over really love?

“But I know I like you. Both of you. And I want to experience this with you before I belong to someone else forever.” You’ve rarely seen Beombgyu look so genuine before–your best friend usually would rather be caught dead than serious–and you know he really means it.

You finally relent. “Okay.”

“So can I get a kiss?” He asks gleefully and you look at Soobin who shrugs. You look back at Beomgyu and sigh. Oh well, what have you got to lose? It’s not like you don’t have feelings for Beomgyu, and may or may not have always found him to be really pretty–not that you’d tell him that of course. If his head gets any bigger, you’re not sure he’d be able to walk into rooms anymore.

With that in mind, you bend down, pressing your lips against his. But Beomgyu wasn’t shy or reserved like Soobin and he immediately presses into the kiss fully, deliberately, taking your breath away before you even realize it.

His lips are insistent against yours, guiding the kiss into something passionate, something that has your fingers tingling and the breath taken out of your lungs.

But when you feel his tongue press against your lips, seeking to deepen the kiss even more, you have to pull back. “Beomgyu, no, too much.”

“Why not?” He whines, and his deep voice that's gotten even deepers causes you to shiver, the heavy look in his eyes making you want to melt into a puddle.

You know some things about sex. You all do as it's encouraged for you to know what to expect when you finally meet your soulmate. So you know that look in Beomgyu's eyes too well and you have to say that being on the receiving end of it was making you weak in the knees. He’s always had smoldering eyes, and when you combine that with the desire and want he’s regarding you with right now, it’s hard not to burn up under his gaze.

You gulp down the saliva pooling in your mouth. “Not so fast.”

“Please, baby.” He bends to kiss down your neck, his breath erupting a trail of goosebumps in his wake. Why the hell is he so good at this? Did he do this before? No, that’s crazy.

You push him away before you lose it. “No, Beomgyu.”

“You're such a tease.” He groans, his rolling eyes landing on Soobin and he smirks.

“Aw, did that get you excited, baby?” He grins, pulling Soobin into his arms just like he had you, but this time Soobin was looming over him. It didn't make a difference though. Beomgyu was still in control. “Be a good boy and stay still.”

He kisses Soobin and, fuck, you never thought about it before but seeing your best friends kiss was the hottest thing you've ever witnessed. Beomgyu is just as passionate kissing Soobin as he had just been kissing you, and it’s not hard to see why Soobin was so affected by the sight–except Soobin doesn’t protest when Beomgyu pushes his tongue into his mouth, and as soon as it touches his, he lets out a pathetic moan that has you dripping in your underwear.

You see Beomgyu's smile into the kiss–fuck why was his cockiness so sexy?--before he presses even harder, muffling the rest of Soobin's moans.

They're both messy–wet kissing noises filling the room and making you press your thighs together for some relief. They’re the ones kissing but you feel like you're the one going crazy. Seeing the filthy way Beomgyu was kissing the taller male, making him submit to him… it makes you almost turn into a puddle.

Finally, after a good five minute makeout session that has both you and Soobin struggling to catch your breath, Beomgyu pulls away, and you swear Soobin lets out a little mewl in protest.

“Did a little bit of kissing get you all hot and bothered, Binnie?” You look down to where Beomgyu was looking and blush when you see Soobin's pants bulging out.

It's not like Beomgyu was any better. He was hard too, but his demeanor was enough so that Soobin didn't realize the irony of his statement.

You didn't expect him to actually do it but Beomgyu reaches out to cup Soobin's bulge, making the both of you gasp. That draws Beomgyu's attention back to you and he grins. “You like what you see, baby?”

He looks down and you realize you are touching yourself now. But you don't care. You just want this to continue. You're too horny to think clearly so you just nod. You’ll deal with consequences of crossing this boundary later when your brain isn't swimming in sex hormones.

“Want to watch me jerk him off?”

You nod again enthusiastically and Beomgyu grins, turning back to Soobin to undo his pants.

“Let's put on a good show for her, huh, baby?”

Soobin whimpers as Beomgyu pulls him out of his pants and starts jerking him off.

“Fuck, so big.” You mutter mindlessly and Beomgyu turns to you, scoffing, “Yeah? Bet he can't even use it if the way he's humping my hand is any indication.”

“Of course, he doesn’t. This is new to all of us.” Your retort breaks into a pathetic gasp as your own fingers rubbing your clit mercilessly, copying the way Beomgyu's long fingers rub Soobin's slit. But Beomgyu’s not interested in your smart-assery.

“Why don't you take off your underwear, princess? Show us what's under that tiny skirt you’re always teasing us with.” Beomgyu demands, making you blush. Teasing them? You never intended or even thought you were doing that.

“I wasn’t teasing.” You frown, pace faltering as your brows furrow in confusion.

“Oh, but you are.” Beomgyu laughs, “Tell her, Binnie.”

You look to Soobin who seems to be bowing under the pressure of the pleasure from Beomgyu’s touch as well as your curious and disbelieving gaze.

“Yeah. You a-are a tease.” He mutters lowly, not meeting your eyes. “You don’t have t-to wear skirts so short around us. We’re still men.”

“Hence the panty stealing.” Beomgyu adds and you snort, trying not to think too hard about what they’ve just admitted to because what the fuck? The fucking perverts! How could you have not known? “Hence? Surprised you know that word, Gyu.”

But Beomgyu doesn’t let you derail the mortifying yet somehow flattering conversation. “You’re teasing right now. Come on, let us see that pretty pussy.”

Your body heats up, your face burning and your ears feel like they could fall off any second. You never thought that one of your best friends, the guys you practically grew up with, would be spouting such filth at you one day and basically admitting that they’ve both been seeing you in a more than platonic way and using you as spankbank material to jack off to you without you being none the wiser, and you certainly didn’t expect how fucking hot you’d find their depravity. “Can't have poor Binnie here feel like he's the only one exposed.”

“Why don't you take off your pants then and jerk both of your cocks together so he wouldn’t feel alone?” You counter to try and take some of the heat off of you but Beomgyu just laughs lightly, leaving you to wonder how he can be so calm about all of this when you feel like you’re one second away from spontaneously combusting. “You'd love to see that, wouldn't you? Dirty girl.”

Before you can squabble more, Soobin lets out a loud whine. “Beomgyu, please I'll cum”

“Will you? Is it turning you on to be jerked off for her to see and play with her pretty pussy? Do you wanna show her how much your big cock can fill her up if she lets you fuck her?”

Fuck, that is so hot and so wrong. There is no way you’d let Soobin fuck you if he’s not your soulmate, but just the idea of doing something so taboo clearly gets to the both of you. You shudder when you see Soobin cry out, staring at your hand playing with yourself under your skirt as he cums, covering Beomgyu's hand and clothes with his seed.

Beomgyu grabs the taller boy by the neck and pulls him into a rough kiss, muffling his moans of overstimulation as he pulls even more cum out of his now red cock. You can’t take it anymore, your body finally succumbing to the obscenity unfolding in front of you as you cum watching your two best friends make out.

“Good boy.” Beomgyu drawls, pulling back from the kiss to look at your shuddering body coming off your own orgasm and smirks.

“God, you're both so easy.” He proclaims cockily, and as the fog of your high clears, you go back to being annoyed at his attitude, letting it coarse through you and burn off the embarrassment you feel at what you’ve just done. Who does he think he is? Of course, you're easy. You're all virgins here. He probably is easy too despite his bravado. He is just better at hiding it for some reason and it’s getting on your nerves. You’ll show him. You’ll prove that he’s just as pathetic as the both of you.

With that in mind, you stalk towards him, roughly pushing him down on the bed behind him before straddling him. You rest your soaked underwear on top of the bulge in his pants and give your hips an experimental roll that pulls a choked moan out of him and makes his hands fly out to grab you by the ass, pushing your crotch further against his cock.

“Oh fuck, yes. Ride my cock, baby.” He groans, his hips eagerly bucking up against yours.

“Who is easy now?” You attempt to gain the upper hand, but Beomgyu doesn’t care, easily giving it up to you.

“I don't care just keep going, fuck.” He mutters, his hold on your bruising as a string of truly pitiful moans and whimpers fall out of his pretty lips, almost giving you whiplash. He crumbled so easily.

“You were acting all cocky and in control, making fun of Soobinie for being eager but look at you now, acting even worse, saying anything just to have something rubbing against your needy cock.”

You don't know what came over you, but putting Beomgyu in his place brought you immense pleasure. He is usually so loud and bratty and you can do nothing about it, so it feels good to finally have found a way to get the best of the brat.

“God, I can feel your wet pussy even through all the clothes.” He whines, and you should feel embarrassed. You should find it mortifying that you're so wet he can feel it even though you're both still fully dressed but the needy look on his face and the desperate way he is clutching onto you just makes you feel powerful.

“Yeah? Wanna make a mess in your pants for Binnie to see?”

He looks at the other boy who is now back to being fully hard and stroking his cock over the scene playing out in front of him.

“Yeah. Wanna cum for you.”

“What do you think, Binnie? Does Beommie deserve to cum after the way he was just acting? Or should I leave him all wet and horny?”

Beomgyu shivers and shakes his head. “No, please.” He turns to Soobin, panicking. “Binnie, baby, didn't I make you cum?”

“I don't know. You were very mean, making fun of me.”

You grin, loving that Soobin is playing along in tormenting Beomgyu. After all, it's not too often that you get to get back at the little shit.

“No, baby, I was just putting on a show. Please.” He puts on his best puppy dog eyes as he tries to justify himself but you all know it’s bullshit. He fucking loved every second of tormenting Soobin just as you love every second of tormenting him.

“Shut up, Beomgyu, before I have Binnie shove his cock down your throat to shut you up.” You were only making empty threats, but seeing the way Soobin bites his lip at that and jerks himself off harder makes you actually want to do it.

“Oh, do you wanna fuck Gyu’s throat, Binnie? Finally shut up that loud mouth of his?”

“Please.” The tall boy steps closer, but waits for you to give the go ahead. You look back down at Gyu who looks a bit scared but does not protest. “What do you say, Gyu? You wanna cum, right?”

“Baby–”

“Come on, don’t be such a tease.” You mock him, pushing two of your fingers into his mouth and moving them in and out as if you’re fucking it. “You wanted more right?”

He nods, gagging a little as you push your fingers in too far. “Yeah. You’re gonna be good and get Binnie off with your mouth?” You ask, grabbing his tongue between your thumb and index finger and pulling it out of his mouth so he can’t speak, but he nods.

“Good boy.” You reward him by pulling the head of his cock out of his pants and thumbing at it with your saliva covered fingers. He throws his head back, mouth hung open in a loud moan, and you motion for Soobin to go ahead–the power rush you’re getting from bossing the two boys around making Beomgyu’s pants sticky with your arousal.

Soobin can only get half of his cock into Beomgyu’s mouth before the other boy is choking, but it’s difficult for Beomgyu to protest when you’re grinding against him so deliciously while your index finger teases his weeping slit mercilessly–not that he would be able to say much anyway with the older boy’s cock stuffing his big mouth.

Soobin on the other hand can say a lot, and he’s spouting off all sorts of exclamations and curses at the feeling of Beomgyu’s warm, wet mouth around his member.

“Fuck, this feels amazing.” He groans and turns to you, “Can I use him every day?” He asks you cheekily and you grin as you hump against Beomgyu harder. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. Look at him, he’s soaking my hand with precum. He must love having cock in his mouth.”

You hear Beomgyu garbled moans around Soobin’s cock and you question him. “What’s wrong, baby? Is Binnie using his big cock right this time?”

Beomgyu whines again and you laugh at him, but Soobin doesn’t find it so funny, not with his cock getting the full brunt of all of Beomgyu’s vocalizations. “Oh god, I’m close. Can I cum on his face?”

You grin widely. “Of course, Binnie. I’m sure Gyu wants to help out his hyung any way he can. He’s so needy he’ll let you cover his pretty face in cum because he knows that will earn him a reward. Isn’t that right, baby?”

Beomgyu pulls away from Soobin’s dick, gasping out, “Yeah, want you to cum, Binnie.”

“Good boy.” You drawl, rocking yourself against Beomgyu’s dick and making him moan out. “Please, cum. Please.”

You don’t know if he’s begging for Soobin to cum or for you to let him cum but it doesn’t matter as the effect is immediate on Soobin who empties his balls on the pretty boy’s face, and the sight of Beomgyu covered in Soobin’s cum pushes you over the edge too.

As you shake and spasm, you make sure to grab Beomgyu’s dick and jerk it off harshly, and within seconds, he too is cumming, making a mess of himself even more as he covers his body with his own cum.

“Fuck, fuck!” His back arches as his orgasm racks through him, almost throwing you off, before he falls back to the bed and convulses with the aftershocks of his orgasm. “Holy shit.”

Holy shit is the right phrase because wow, this was amazing, way better than doing it alone and guiltily conjuring up faceless apparitions of companions that in weak moments take the form of one of your two best friends.

No, the real thing was much better, but as the fog of the pleasure lifts off and only the mess of your crime scene is left behind, the guilt and dread sink their claws into your stomach.

Your eyes dart between Soobin who is slumped on the chair next to the bed catching his breath with his cock still in his hand to Beomgyu who is still under you, absolutely soaked in all your combined fluids as he struggles to catch his own breath–both of them still sporting that dazed blissful look on their faces, not having yet joined you in realization land where the only thing running through your mind right now is ‘Oh, dear god, what have you done? What does this mean? And where the hell do you go from here?’

_________________________

A/N: surprise drop lol. i am still working on the yandere iron age gyu twoshot but it's much more difficult to write so have this in the meantime. hope you like it and let me know what your predictions for this series is

#txt smut #tomorrow x together smut #beomgyu smut #soobin smut #dom!reader #sub!idol #soulmates au #dom!idol #dom!gyu #sub!gyu #sub!soobin

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lxkeee · 8 months

Text

END GAME

PART TWO

pairing: lucifer x fallen angel! fem! reader

fandom: hazbin hotel

genre: fluff

warnings: no warnings yet.

notes: very feral for this man and this is multishot fic and would be writing a smut for this. Reader is close to his age (probably a hundred years younger but meh)

additional notes: just because there are moments where Lucifer seems to be flustered or like mesmerized by the reader, it doesn't mean he already has a crush. It just means that he's been alone for so long that anyone who's gorgeous would make him get flustered cuz it's been awhile since he socialized with others lmfao. I am planning to make their relationship slowly bloom cuz why not?

PART ONE | PART THREE

“The name's Lucifer Morningstar, welcome to hell.” the light blond haired man said with slight smile and [y/n] can feel her jaw dropped. This is the first fallen angel? The king of hell? Very pale skin, short stature, pink cheeks, attractive. [Y/n] believes that the stories from ancient heavenly scrolls didn't do him any justice.

Lucifer just gave her a small toothy grin as he watched the awe look on her face as he leans his body against the door frame, crossing his arms as he looked at her. “You're Lucifer...?” she asked softly, looking at him with slight doubt and he nodded, “Indeed I am darling.” he replied with a grin, almost a smirk.

“You're much shorter than I thought you would be.” [y/n] says looking at him and Lucifer felt like an arrow was shot into his heart, if she stood next to him it would be guaranteed that she'll be looking down on him literally, “Though, I do believe that the heavenly scrolls did not do you any justice. You are prettier than how the scrolls describe you to be.” she says with a grin, crossing her arms on her chest as Lucifer just looked at her, blinking slowly as the red of his cheeks darkened slightly.

I swear to me, why is she so bold? He asked himself mentally.

He cleared his throat before eventually looking back at her, “Are you normally this bold to strangers?” he asked with a deadpan and [y/n] snorted a little, “Usually, I'm more.” she replied and Lucifer had to take a deep breather as he mumbled “Jesus...” underneath his breath making the woman chuckle.

[y/n] haven't paid him any mind, chuckling slightly to see the ruler of hell to be easily flustered. “I assumed you healed me? How long was I out?” she asked him, deciding to stop teasing the poor man. Lucifer managed to calm himself down, adjusting the collar to his suit, “Yes, you have crashed into my front yard but don't mind about it. You've been in a coma for almost... Three weeks.” he replied before eventually walking towards her and sat on the bed. His expression softened as his hand grazed over her shoulder blades, “They really cut off your wings...” he muttered softly and she just sighed, “Indeed they did.”

Deciding not to make her uncomfortable, he removed his hand from her shoulders, “If you don't mind me asking, what happened?” he asked and she gently lied down on to the bed, avoiding his gaze.

“Heaven was suffocating. Too many rules and I began to question them.” she replied softly and Lucifer just nodded in understanding, “I would probably have been bearable if I was allowed to punch Adam occasionally but nope.” she jokes slightly, making the light blond haired fallen angel chuckle, “Indeed.” he says softly making the woman giggle. Lucifer then gave her a raised eyebrow, “I think now's the time I catch the name of the person I took care of for almost three weeks. Hmm?” he asked with a slight hum. [Y/n] smiled before returning back to her sitting position, extending her hand for a handshake, “My name is [Y/n] [l/n], it is a pleasure to meet you.” she says and Lucifer smiled and held her hand and gave her knuckle a chaste kiss, “The pleasure is all mine.”

[y/n] just chuckles as he lets go of her hand, “As expected, you really are charming.” she says making Lucifer laugh slightly, “Thank you, now.” he says before clapping his hands together, “Since you are new here, I assume that you don't have anywhere to stay. How about you work for me? You are a fallen angel so I know you are powerful. So what do you say?” he asked, extending his hand with a slight smirk. [Y/n] looked at his hand with a raised eyebrow and with a small teasing smile.

“A deal with the devil...? What's the catch?” she asked, crossing her arms making Lucifer chuckle, “This isn't the usual deal where you sell your soul to me, that kind of deal requires a contract with your signature of consent. This is just a normal deal for you to work and be my assistant while getting a place to stay in return.” he explained, despite the smirk on his face, [y/n] cannot sense deception from the man. She sighs before eventually shaking his hand.

“You got yourself a deal, Lucifer.” she says making the king of hell smirk, “You won't regret it.”

end notes: and I worked like a doggg day and night 😭

#Spotify #lucifer morningstar x reader #lxkeee hazbin hotel masterlist #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer magne #lucifer #“END GAME” — LUCIFER X READER

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gardnhee · 3 months

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simply divine - C.BG

౨ৎ warning(s). smuttyyyy, needy/whiny gyu, kind of filthy, gyu is bratty, switch!gyu/yn, yn is older by 2 yrs, impact play, they’re both rough, use of “whore”, somnophilia if you squint - lmk if I missed anything :3 !

౨ৎ nonidol!gyu x afab!reader

౨ৎ wc. 1.2k

౨ৎ note. i was having a lil nice conversation with @beomiracles about gyu’s adam’s apple, then I came to the conclusion that I am, in fact, obsessed with it. so here’s a drabble to make up for the lack of fics ! > 0 <

Insatiable is the best way to describe it. This need, this hunger. It consumed you. Especially now that you’re straddling your boyfriend’s lap, lips swollen and irritated, wanting more.

The rain is relentlessly drumming on your window, dimmed lights casted upon Beomgyu’s jaw-dropping features. His eyes are lidded, glossed over with lust and urgency. Disheveled hair, goosebump ridden skin, delectable lips that you can’t seem to get enough of.

You caress his cheek, finger tracing over his flawless skin, eventually traveling to his neck. You grin, gently pushing him onto the mattress. “Be gentle…” Beomgyu mutters, slim hand wrapping around your wrist as he props himself up on his elbow.

“Oh, shut up. You weren’t complaining when I had your lip between my teeth.” You retort matter-of-factly, guiding him down until his spine kisses the soft surface.

“You’re right, now I want another kiss.” He pouts.

“Ask nicely and I’ll consider it.”

He rolls his eyes, gripping your waist so he can slowly move you over his crotch, “please,” his voice is breathy, groaning at the friction, “please kiss me.” You swallow, granting his wish without another word.

He makes it so hard for you to be mean.

However, you can’t give in so easily. Not when his Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps, begging to be touched, to be sucked on. His mouth is hot against yours, ravenous, sloppy. Like you’re his oxygen, his one and only need. Beomgyu’s grip tightens like a vice, refusing to let go.

You bite his lower lip as his hands roam under your shirt, carving crescent moons into the supple skin. You flick his left nipple, hot and perky, pulling away from his mouth to peck the hard nub. You moan against him, nipping at it, and eliciting a mewl from the younger male.

“Fuck…hah…ah…” gyu’s thighs tense as he whines, squirming, “‘m g’na cum…” His fingers find their way into your hair, “stop,” tugging at the strands to bring you face to face with him.

“Don’t fucking pull my hair again, you whore.” You smack his hand away, nails digging into his cheek as he seethes. “You’re such a brat, beomgyu…” you murmur, tilting his head back till his back is arched just enough, exposing his soft neck and that delicious bump you love so much.

“Stay like that, don’t move.”

“What if I do?”

You strike him across the chest, making him jolt with a wail, “don’t even think about it. Be obedient.” Beomgyu tsks, narrowly cocking his head to peek at you. “Head back. I’m not going to ask you again.”

“I really regret giving you the reigns today.” His comment lacks any real meaning, he loves you, and he adores when you take the lead. He’s not fooling anyone, especially you.

“Yeah, right.” You lean in, kissing his Adam’s apple. He sighs, smile lining his lips. You proceed to suck on the bump, drawing circles on his nipples with your thumbs.

A wanton moan slips past his reddened lips, “ah…oh, god.” He shivers as your nimble fingers brush over his abused skin, littered with love bites. “You look so,” you lick his Adam’s apple, “fucking heavenly.”

“Thank you - fu…uuck - princess.” Beomgyu’s head lolls, tears clumping to his wet lashes, “please…keep sucking-!” His words are clipped, muscles tensing under your touch.

“Look at you…” you coo, getting ahold of his matted hair, which is sticking to his sweaty forehead. There’s a sheer layer of shine blanketing his body, abs twitching below you. You can’t help but taunt him. “I’ve barely even touched you.”

“B-barely?!” Your boyfriend echoes, rather baffled, disbelief flashing through his teary eyes.

“You heard me.”

“Stop being an asshole, yn, and just fuck me.” He presses the heels of his palms over his eyes in frustration.

You shrug, moving to his neck, and ignoring his aching cock, twitching under your unmoving body. “God - ngh - damnit.” Beomgyu grips your shirt, tugging at it.

“I’ll give you what you want when I see fit.” You scowl, words muffled, seeping into his neck. You swirl your tongue around his Adam’s apple, humming in glee because you’re just so in love. Because you just can’t believe he’s yours.

The pads of your fingers trail over his collarbones as you lick a thick stripe along the way. “I really love you, Beomgyu.” You whisper, so faint it would fly over anyone’s head had they not been listening.

Beomgyu isn’t just anyone, though.

“What’s this about? So suddenly?” He chuckles, soothingly running his tender fingers through your damp hair. “I said, I really love you, Beomgyu.” You repeat, much louder this time.

“Come here.” Gyu grabs your arm, dragging you along till you’re lying above him. “I love you more, yn. So, so much.” He airily kisses you, not like before — it’s not loud, urgent, but meek and quiet.

“Oh, fuck this.” You unzip his pants with urgency, shimmying them down in a feeble manner. You want him. You want him so, so bad. And you simply can’t hold back anymore.

In the blink of an eye, you’re hovering over his anticipating dick, mushroom tip leaking pre. You sink, ripping a wince from his chest. “F-fuck!” Beomgyu stutters, clawing at the already soiled sheets.

“God it— f-ha! — it’s s-so good!” Tears spill over his stained cheeks. “Y..yeah..” you agree, grinding painfully slow. He trembles, gawking at the feeling of your pussy pulsing around him. Your palms are flat on his heaving chest, marveling at the sweat trickling down the curvature of his pecs. “Im so close…” you grit, subtly quickening your pace. Beomgyu nods frantically, “y-yes please!” Mind somewhere else as drool dribbles off his chin, eyes rolled back.

“baby you’re - mff - doing so well…” You clench at his words, convulsing as a wave of ecstasy washes over you. You quiver, toes curling with shaky breaths. It’s so blissful, like a wave of euphoria cursing through your veins, making your toes curl in white-hot pleasure.

The top of his thighs are now flush against your ass, “I’m close, pretty…” he kisses your temple as your face is nuzzled in his neck. He thrusts, each stroke touching your soul in a way that makes you see stars. Electricity finds purchase at the tips of your fingers, prodding under your skin till it rips at the very seams of who you are.

Beomgyu always felt otherworldly, everything about him is just new and refreshing. He finds a way to accommodate to your every need, and vice versa. “Oh, f-uu…!“ he stills, words dying in his throat, mouth ‘o’ shaped in a quiet moan. His thighs quake, pressing you even tighter against him.

Once his climax is nothing but a faint throb in his groin, he peeks at you, laughing quietly. “No way you fell asleep…” he mutters, eyes fighting sleep themselves. “Guess I am, too.” He feels the low rumble of your chest, rising and falling, breath fanning his collarbones. Beomgyu pulls out with a bite of his lip, brows furrowing at the sensation. Soon enough, he’s fast asleep with you in his arms.

His safe space, his home, so utterly and simply divine.

౨ৎ … I hate this !!! went on vacation so I couldn’t finish it, decided to come back to it and rush 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️.

౨ৎ … @theresawtf @jjklvr9 @binniebakery @beomies-world @hyukaaa @ninoshome1 @babymochibeargyu @lunathewritingcat @duckywuckypookiepie @naoristerling @oddracha @soohashits @junimoa03 @sendhelpiloveyeonjun @beomtasticc @itaehynz

౨ৎ … please like, comment, and reblog. Would be highly appreciated 🫶

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yaekiss · 4 months

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𝑴𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝑵𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒙𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

꩜ Room Content: GN! Dom! Reader x Sub! Kaveh, no gendered terms for reader, no mention of reader's anatomy, handjob & blowjob (Kaveh receiving), praise (Kaveh receiving), lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ A/N: I've been thinking about writing something for Kaveh again lately so thank you pringles for sending in this prompt!! Also a huge thank you for waiting! Hope you enjoy the fic !! <3 ꩜ This was written for @xxpringlesxx as part of my Care for a Fic fundraising event for Gaza! If you would to request a fic of your own, do check out the event post above ^^

As he busies himself with washing the dishes after dinner (it’s his turn today), Kaveh hums along to the tune of that catchy love song that’s been popular in Sumeru lately, one that’s been stuck in his head all week.

From where you’re seated, you can hear the water run and plates and glasses clink as he washes them and puts them away on a rack to dry. However, interspersed between the mundane noises and his light humming, you pick up frustrated huffs.

Concerned for your lover, you crane your head over to look at him, and you see the problem. He’s constantly rolling his shoulders back and sharply tilting his head to each side, probably trying to pop a stubborn crick in his neck.

Making your way over to the kitchen, as you get closer, you can’t help but notice that his posture looks tense as he hunches over the sink. Mind processing, you recall him complaining about his latest commissions to you over dinner.

(“Can you believe the client even suggested that?” He sighs before lifting another spoonful of soup to his mouth.

“And don’t even get me started on the deadlines, dearest! I don’t know how I’ll survive this one without pulling a few all-nighters,” Kaveh all but wails. The soup doesn’t really make it into his mouth since he just sets the spoon back into the bowl so his hands are free to tug at his hair.

You laugh lightheartedly, take his hands out of his hair gently, then pick up his almost empty bowl of soup so that you can refill it.

“You’ll need all the energy you can get then, I’ll get more soup for you. And I hope you’d still get some rest though, beloved,” you chide him softly.)

He hears you pop into the kitchen and he turns around to face you.

“Hey, just finished the dishes, do you need something from the drying rack?”

You shake your head, “Nope. I was just wondering if you wanted a massage, since you’ve been working hard and your shoulders are tense, is all.”

Kaveh answers as he wipes his wet hands on a clean dry cloth hanging by the wall, his tone chipper, “That’ll be nothing but heavenly, thank you so much, dearest. Ugh, you don’t even want to know how much my shoulders have been killing me lately.”

He allows you to lead him into your shared bedroom, where he promptly faceplants down onto the mattress, a tired muffled sigh leaving him. Reaching over to the bedside table, you pick up the tub of lotion in the drawer. Opening it, you look back down at Kaveh who’s still sprawled out prone on the bed and you sigh.

“Come on, don’t you think it’ll be better and easier for me without your shirt in the way?” He doesn’t answer but you know he heard you because of the way he kicks his legs, as if throwing a fit.

“But I just got comfy,” he groans, his grumpy tone muffled by the mattress under him. Ultimately, he sits back up, pulls his shirt over his head, folds it quickly and sets it to a side, then flops back down onto the mattress, all in quick succession.

Clambering over him to straddle his lower back, you scoop a nice dollop of the lotion and spread it across the expanse of his back so that your hands can smoothly glide over his skin. You start from between his shoulder blades, where you rub it into his shoulders and take note of how tense his muscles are. While you work at the knots in his muscles, he relaxes more and more until he has practically melted and become one with the bed.

Then gradually, your hands make their way down to his waist. When your thumbs dig into the area around the small of his back, he shivers under you, along with a low hiss.

Unbeknownst to you, your beloved Kaveh lays pinned and squirming beneath your hands as he desperately tries to muffle the moans that itch to make their way out of his throat. He fights back the urge to buck his hips downwards, you were nice enough to help him wind down from a busy couple of days and yet here he is getting hot and bothered under your touch.

It’s not his fault that you’ve been running through his mind, who wouldn’t be enraptured by you? You’re the only thing keeping him sane in spite of his growing workload, his thoughts wandering to his dearest lover throughout these hellish days as a balm to soothe his weary soul.

The more he tries to tear his traitorous mind away from you, the more it conjures up increasingly scandalous fantasies of how this current situation could play out. What would you do to him? Tease him until he’s begging for his release, a full-body blush painted across his skin? Or perhaps the inverse, where you’d wring climax after climax out of him until he’s mumbling nothing but utter nonsense, limbless in your arms? How’d he love for your hands to drift further down his body, trail under the waistband of his pants to where he needs you the most.

Your voice snaps him out of his daze and drags him out of his daydreams.

“Done with your back, beloved. Flip around for me?” He hears you coo from above him as you move to sit on the bed so he can change his position and yet, hesitates to turn upwards and face you.

Mainly, due to the tightness in his pants right now.

“Hmm, Kaveh? What’s wrong?” The concern in your voice is evident and he tries everything to will away his hard-on until he’s confronted with the fact that he has no choice but to do as you say, lest he causes you to worry even more.

Slowly, he peels himself off the mattress on shaky hands while the tips of his ears are burning red. But before he flips over completely, he manages to mumble out a weak, “Um. Uh. Just don’t look down too much…”

When he’s finally done shifting positions, you’re able to see just how bright of a blush has settled on his face, his brows knitted together as he quickly moves his hands to the front of his pants. However, it’s too late and you’ve already caught a glimpse of what he’s trying to hide. (And really, the rumpled state of his pants aren’t helping his case.)

Kaveh knows that you’ve realised when a mischievous look flashes across your face, “Aww, why didn’t you just tell me? Just an innocent little massage and you’re already so worked up?” He didn’t know his face could get any hotter but it does when he recognises that you’re teasing him.

Fortunately for him, it seems like you’re in a merciful mood tonight as you drag your fingertips down past his navel, goosebumps rising on his skin along the path you trace out. When your fingers go to hook under his waistband, you ask, “Do you want this?”

Kaveh thinks he has never nodded this hard in his life.

Prying him free from the confines of his clothes, he’s already almost fully erect, to which you quickly fix. Wiping your hands of the remaining lotion still clinging to them, you procure a different container, a water-based lubricant this time, and slather it generously on your palms and fingers to bring it up to your body temperature.

Wrapping a hand around his base, you stroke upwards in a fluid motion, making him jerk his hips up into your fist. Eyes squeezed shut, Kaveh hisses sharply when he feels your other hand snake up to his chest and flick at one of his sensitive nipples.

Filthy slick noises fill the room as you take the time prying moan after moan from his lips and he looks utterly debauched lying under you. A messy halo of golden blonde hair frames his face aflame with colour and you sear this image of your beloved into your memory.

“Are my hands really that good?”

“Hnn… Ye-yes! More, please…!” He slurs, half out his mind.

The combined onslaught of pleasure proves to be too much for him as the telltale sign of his thighs tensing signals his oncoming release. Yet, just as he tips over the edge, you instantly stop your ministrations, pulling your hands away from him.

But before he can whine out in disappointment, you take him into your mouth. The sudden replacement of your hands with the warmth of your tongue takes him off guard and it rips a drawn out keen from the architect. Your hands rove around his body, alternating from pinching and toying with his chest to kneading at the muscles of his thighs and ass.

“Absolutely lovely, beloved. I’m so lucky to have such a hard worker, someone so kind and earnest in everything that he does,” he moans unabashedly at your praise, head pressed back hard against the bed as he tries to hold himself back from coming too soon. Unshed tears cling to his eyelashes as he blinks rapidly at the overwhelming sensations.

“Going to… hah! Need to-!” At this point, Kaveh’s mind has been reduced to mush, his fingers tangled in the bedsheets as he begs and babbles in between breathy pants.

“Go on, beloved, anything you want,” you coo, pressing a kiss to his inner thigh. When you lick up the underside of his shaft and take his drooling tip into your mouth, a hand twisting at the base whilst the other toys with his balls. His muscles lock up as his back arches off the bed and he cums with a shout.

Stars dancing behind his eyelids, he moans when you press your lips to his and he tastes himself. His hand scrambles to find yours, fingers entwining as his thoughts fill with nothing except the love he has for you.

When you break away from him, Kaveh sighs against your cheek, plastering kiss after kiss across your face. But you’re not done pampering him for tonight yet, and he knows this when you nibble at his ear.

“Looks like you’re still tense, how about we continue your massage, hmm?”

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

If you'd like to request a fic of your own, do consider checking out my event post!

#📜.Care for a Fic!#📜.qi writings #📜.qi musings #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin smut #sub genshin #dom reader #kaveh x reader #kaveh smut #sub kaveh #HUZAHHHH fic completed and posted up!!!#[sign next to me that says “days since laptop bluescreened: 0”]#enjoy pringles!!!! thank you so much for donating!#edit: oh my god I tagged the wrong url thrice accidently orz... this is what I get for posting at 5am

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