#loving my incoherent scribbles

[abs0luteanarchy]

…good food

lyrics are from butcher vanity by vane lily

[heymacy]

💛

[pretty-little-mind33]

James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: When you're having cramps, your boyfriend doesn't even think of shying away from helping you in anyway he can.

Genre: Fluff, hurt and comfort✌️😉

Warnings: talk of having a period. that is all.

Although you have been feeling horrible all morning, you haven't mentioned anything as you continue your essay in the comfortable silence of your boyfriend's dorm.

You're in James's favorite Quidditch crewneck, your hands tucked under the sleeves as you continue to scribble incoherent words on your parchment. You chew on your lip as another cramp hits you, the pain piercing your lower stomach.

You hear the door creak and shuffling behind you, accompanied by a call of your name, "Y/n!" you hear the smile in James's voice as he says, "I didn't think you'd be in here?"

He sounds a little surprised but he makes his way over to you eagerly, leaning down and kissing behind your ear. "How are you, baby?" he asks. James wraps his arms around your stomach, lifting the hem of your sweater (his sweater) and presses his hands to your warm skin.

On any normal day you would welcome his touch, but this time his hand on your stomach reminds you of how much pain you're in and how disgusting you feel. So, you squirm against him and pull his hands away. "James," you whisper, shutting your eyes as you feel another jab of pain.

How did it suddenly become so much worse?

James frowns, slightly hurt by your rejection, but kneels in front of you. "Hey," He says quietly, taking your hands in his. He turns you around until he can see your face and his heart leaps in his chest when he sees that your eyes are almost as scarlet as his sweater (as well as extremely swollen).

You blink away new tears, turning your head away from him. You're so embarrassed. James rubs his hands over your knee. "What happened?"

Your lip wobbles as you stare at the desk and the cramps return, "I'm on my period and it feels like someone is tearing my insides out. And I feel all sticky and gross," you pause and warn him, "You don't want to touch me when I'm like this."

James cracks a smile. "I wanna touch you all the time," he continues to massage soothingly across your knee and your lower thighs. "It always only depends on if you want me to touch you. If I had my way, love, you would never leave my arms."

You can't help but laugh and your expression softens. James sends you a lopsided smirk and reaches up to caress your cheek with his thumb. "Did you take something? To help with the cramps?"

You nod your head and mumble, "It hasn't worked yet."

James looks over you at his desk and the parchment and ink, "And what are you doing in here? You should be relaxing," he reprimands softly. He looks around the room just to make sure Remus, Peter, and Sirius are out.

"I have to finish this essay for tomorrow," you say, "And I was lonely. I missed you but I knew you were at Quidditch practice so I came here and — I was cold — " your voice is small as you lift your arms to show him his sweater.

James interrupts you with a small, "Dove," his voice is light with amusement and endearment. "I didn't mean it like that. You can always come into my room and steal as many of my sweaters as you like, I don't care. I just want to know why you're torturing yourself with this essay when you're in pain."

You smile a little, wincing when another cramp creeps up on you and you say,"I can't just put everything on pause because of some silly cramps. I'm okay."

James shakes his head. "Nonsense," he helps you stand and suddenly swoops his hands under your legs and holds you in his arms. You let out a breathy laugh as your arms loop themselves around his neck.

"I'm gonna make you relax, love," he states sternly as he walks to his bed and delicately lowers you onto his mattress. You curl up as you let the warmth of his fuzzy blankets calm some of the pain in your stomach.

James quickly shrugs his Quidditch uniform off, leaving it on the back of his chair, and you can't help but stare when he's shirtless. He turns to you and smirks. "Don't stare at me like that," he whispers teasingly and you whip your head around, pretending to find the walls of his dorm extremely interesting.

"Sorry," you mutter and feel the mattress dips as James nuzzles against you, pulling you in as he leans his head on the wall behind him. He's warm and the feel of his thumb sliding across your skin makes you shiver.

He leans down and kisses your cheek delicately. You squirm when another cramp hits you and James squeezes your shoulder. "Oh, I'm so sorry, my love. I hate seeing you in pain. How can I make this better?" you move closer to him, wrapping your arms around his torso as you bury your face into the crook of his neck,

"S'nothing you can do, Jamie," you mumble.

"How can I distract you then?"

You pause, thinking for a moment and then look up and make eye contact with him. "Tell me about practice today?" you ask softly.

James chuckles, "I didn't know you like when I talk Quidditch, love."

You smile and clarify, "I like it when you talk," you lean up a little and kiss his cheek. When you pull away from him, your smile widens as you admire how his cheeks look pinker. He smiles, mostly to himself, and leans his head on yours as he draws small circles on your shoulder.

"Well, Bennett had his head in his ass the entire fucking time," James doesn't hold back and you frown, swatting him on his chest. His eyes widen and he looks at you with a weak smile. "Sorry," he mumbles and you relax into him again. Another cramp hits you but this time James's voice distracts you, "I meant that Bennett had a hard time being a team player and you know I don't tolerate that."

You hum and let him continue, "I had to have a talk to him after but he didn't like that. Merlin, Quidditch players can be such dicks."

You giggle, "I know."

James looks at you. "What's that supposed to mean, baby?"

You grin and stoke a line down his jaw, explaining yourself, "I don't mean you, James. I just mean that it isn't something I don't notice when I'm with you and you're hanging around them."

"None of them ever bother you though, right?" James interrupts, concern weaved into his voice, "Because you would tell me, hmm? I'll kick them off the team no hesitation. No one messes with my girl."

You smile. "Oh, I think they're well aware. Frankly, if anything, they avoid me."

"And that doesn't make you feel sad or ignored does it?"

You laugh this time, sitting up and shaking your head. "No it doesn't. Jamie, you're the only Quidditch player I care about anyways," you wince from your movements and James sits up, his hand coming to rest on your stomach.

His hand falters as he remembers what you'd said, but just as he's about to move it away, you catch his wrist and push it under your sweater. You look at him with round eyes and James melts. "Can you? Your hands are warm."

"Of course," James says instantly. He smiles and starts to gently massage your abdomen. He lets you settle into him again and you close your eyes. The pressure from James's hand helps soothe your pain and just as you turn your head slightly to press a kiss to his neck, the door to James's dorm swings open.

Sirius Black throws his book-bag onto the ground and lifts his head to look at you both. "Y/n?" he scans you and James. James's hand under your shirt. Your lipgloss marks on James's cheek and neck.

Color drains from Sirius's face and he quickly covers his eyes. "Oh my fucking god. Prongs, what the fuck?"

James doesn't move his hand as he continues to massage circles on your skin, he rolls his eyes at his best friend. "Sirius, don't be so dramatic. Nothing's happening, Y/n just," he pauses and looks at you to make sure you're okay with Sirius knowing. You nod. "She's on her period and I'm helping her with her cramps."

Sirius's eyes widen and he stares at you as if you're an alien. "It's happening now? You're bleeding?!"

You frown and James sits up, grabbing the pillow from behind him and throwing it at Sirius. "You're such a child. Get out," James demands sternly.

Sirius holds his hands up in the air as surrender. "Hey, this is also my room!" he looks at you, his expression suddenly soft. "And I was only kidding, Y/n. I know bleeding out of your vagina is a completely normal thing that happens to a woman – "

James narrows his eyes and interrupts him, "Sirius. Door. Now."

Sirius just stares at James for a second until he eventually sighs and listens. When the door shuts behind him, your boyfriend is quick to apologize for his best friend. "I'm so sorry about him. He's such a pain in my ass."

You smile and murmur, "It's okay. He's harmless."

James nods, resuming his massages and you hum in approval, "Are you feeling any better, my love?"

You nod and move closer to him, still wanting his warmth. Your cramp have dulled because of the warmth of James's hand and you turn your head into his neck again, his hair tickling your cheek. "You're the best boyfriend, James," you say and you mean it.

"Oh, because I take care of my girl when she's in pain?" James scoffs, kissing your temple swiftly. "Please, that's the bare minimum, Y/n. I love you. I want to care for you. It's not a hard task. Nothing to be praised for."

You smile into his shoulder. You can't help but wonder if James Potter really doesn't know that he's one in a million. All you know is that if he doesn't you'll make sure to remind him that he is. Every second you can.

"I love you, Jamie," you mumble as James kisses your head again.

"I love you more," he whispers as you close your eyes.

[lqveharrington]

Behind the Scenes | V.

summary: Being Vox’s girlfriend requires some patience after twelve hour work days.

pairing: Vox x fem!reader

includes: Vox and Velvette bullying one another, VALENTINO BEING A MENACE, mentions of Angel’s job, drinking, fluff, yelling, Vox being a baby, cursing, implications of being a prostitute, suggestiveness, both of them being teases (that’s it, let me know if i missed any!)

a/n: i think writing hazbin fics is my stress outlet 😭

You were Vox’s. And Vox was yours. Every demon and sinner in Pride Ring knew due to Vox taking time out of his busy work day to shower you with compliments in every press interview or host show when you were brought up. Especially when Vox would be the first one to find you after you finished modeling for Velvette’s show, making sure the paparazzi had photos of him praising you with kisses and soft touches.

Of course, you reciprocated every moment… In the public eye. Behind the cameras and screens, Vox was very much loving. But he did work for almost twelve hours each day, which required patience from you whenever he came home to you in a sour mood.

“Do you need me for anything else, Vel?” You glance back at your phone as you pour red wine into your glass.

“No,” She scribbled down measurement adjustments for another model’s design, looking back up at her screen after hearing an electrical shock from your side of the phone. “But do tell your boy toy that you have a dress rehearsal early tomorrow morning, and that you have to be there on time.”

Vox wrapped his arm around your waist, glaring at the young overlord through your phone. “Fuck off, Velvette.”

You feel him resting his head against your shoulder as he presses soft kisses on your neck, your dead heart fluttering. “I’ll be there on time.”

“Good.” She rolled her eyes at your boyfriend’s actions before ending the call.

“What’s your damage today, handsome?” You ask before sipping on your drink, red lipstick staining the clear glass. You watch as he mutters something incoherent, static emitting from his hat. “Vox, talk to me.”

“That bitch Carmilla won’t meet up, and it’s been several days since our last update on Vox technology.” He sighs as he moves around you, his voice crackling with electricity. “Shareholders have been up my fucking ass all morning about it— Valentino keeps trying to get me to watch his stupid porn feels featuring Angel.”

He removes his suit jacket as he complains, walking toward the large living space including a minibar. Vox pulls at his tie and reaches for the whiskey underneath, “Now Velvette wants to be an ass and complain about me wanting to spend time with you—“

“My love,” You hand him a glass from the cabinets, letting your hand linger on his for a bit. “Vel’s my boss, and I’m her best model. She needs me for these rehearsals.”

“You’re really taking her side?” He tilts back his head and downs the drink in one go, pouring another.

You roll your eyes at his childish behavior, “I’m not taking sides, I’m pointing out a fact.” You sit on the stool by the bar, letting him slot himself between your legs. “If anything, I’m listening to you describing your day.”

“Mm.” He let one hand come down and rest on your hip, rubbing soft circles. “Tell me about your day.”

“Boring, tiring. Pretty much the same every day.” You grab his wrist to ensure he doesn’t go any lower or any higher. “According to your assistant, I do have a lot of things planned tomorrow. So that should be exhausting.”

Vox linked your hands together, “Sounds stressful.”

“Not as bad as yours every day.” You press a kiss on his palm. “I was gonna watch a movie while waiting for you, but now that you’re here—“ You shift your wine glass in your hand as he puts his own glass down, letting him trail his hands to your waist. “Want to join me?”

“Of course.” He presses a chaste kiss to your lips before trailing after you. “What movie are we watching?”

“Whatever the first thing I find.” You let Vox sit on the couch before doing the same, swinging your legs over his lap. “You need a new rotation on Voxflix, I’ve watched almost everything.”

“I’ll get on that.” He mumbled as he ran his hand up and down your leg, occasionally squeezing.

You hum and shift your gaze to the television, scrolling through the different movies. “How do we feel about—“

A ringtone filled the air, both of you freezing at the noise.

“Vox—“

“Give me a second.” He let you pull your legs away and pulled the ringing from his screen to his phone, camera-ready voice leaving his mouth.

You sigh but find a movie worth watching, pulling your knees up. Around halfway through, you decided that the movie was meretricious, heavily judging the poorly made movie more than the other ones you’ve watched. You typed your review on your phone, giving the movie two stars before—

“—THEN GET SOME LOW LIFE SINNER TO DO YOUR FUCKING JOB FOR YOU!” You heard Vox scream from the kitchen, making you wince for the poor soul on the other end. “AND IF YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE SHIT I GIVE YOU, JUST KNOW I HAVE YOUR FUCKING SOUL IN CONTRACT!”

You pause the movie and get up, taking slow steps to your hotheaded boyfriend. He shuffled across the kitchen, walking back and forth as his fans kicked on. His white shirt was unbuttoned and his sleeves were rolled up like he was going to commit a crime.

“YOU LITTLE PIECE OF—“

“Vox,” You come up from behind and wrap your arms around his chest, resting your head on his shoulder. “It’s outside of your work hours.”

“Fucking—“ He rubbed his temple as he heard the sinner go silent on the other line. Vox took one hand and laced it with yours, “You’re lucky my wife is generous you ungrateful fuck.” He ended the call before muttering more curses, turning you in his arms so you were facing his front.

You let your hands move up to his shoulders, massaging the heavy tension in them. “Am I your wife now? Is that what you’ve been telling those sinners?”

“Maybe.” He let out a loud groan from the sensation, fans still running. “The fucking bitch in accounting is—“

“You’re not working right now, stop.” You give him a pointed look. “I need you to relax.”

Vox wrapped his arms around your waist, walking you backward toward the living area once more. “God, I’m in love with you.”

“I love you too.” You chuckle as he peppers kisses on your face. You let out a noise of surprise when he pulls you into his lap, hands gripping his shoulders for support. “Vox!”

“Yes?” He pressed kisses to your exposed collarbone.

You sigh in content but grab the corners of his screen, giving him a cheeky grin. “Tomorrow, my love. Velvette will murder the both of us if I show up late with bruises.”

“I’ll pay her to let you have a day off tomorrow.” He slipped his hand up your shirt, sharp claws bringing chills to your skin.

“So now you’re paying to be with me?” You raise a brow, stifling a laugh when he stops all movements. “Am I some kind of—“

“Of course not! Do not finish that sentence.” He pushed you down on the couch, covering your mouth. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

You laugh at how protective he is over you from himself. “I know you didn’t mean it like that, I was kidding.”

Vox dropped his head down to your shoulder, “You’re such a tease.”

“I’m the best.” You squeeze his bicep. “But seriously, Vel will have our heads strung outside the tower.”

“Whatever.” He flipped you both over, letting you rest your head on his chest. “I’ll have you all to myself this weekend.”

You hum, pressing a kiss on the corner of his screen. “I’m sure you do, handsome.”

“My love, I will cancel all your plans this weekend if you tell me I can’t have you.” Vox traces his finger down your spine. “Don’t tell me you have any.”

“I don’t…” You turn your head as he runs his claws through your hair. You feel yourself warm as he wraps a blanket over the both of you, flicking the television to play with a snap of his fingers.

“What do we rate the movie today?” He played with the ends of your hair, face pulling a grimace at the movie’s corny script.

“Two stars.” You mumble as your gaze shifts to the television. As the television fades to black in an awkward transition, you see Vox staring at you rather than the screen. “What are you looking at, weirdo?”

“My beautiful girlfriend.” He squeezed your hip. “Who I love very much.”

You let a small laugh slip through your lips, grinning brightly at his words. “I love you very much too, weirdo.”

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[moonlightchildz]

a yearning anticipation; jk

summary: your lover, jungkook, has confessed to devote himself only to you

rating & warnings: M, smut, use of marijuana, creampie, doggy, f. receiving, m. receiving, mouth fucking, missionary, pwp!

Part One I:

The clock ticking was in by no way helping your anticipation. Anxious eyes flickered to the round object every few or so minutes, eyebrows furrowing as you tried concentrating at the task at hand. Your hand held the pen, but the sticky note in front of you was scribbled with a few words of your incoherent thoughts. Your manager seemed occupied as he talked amongst a group of coworkers about the oncoming project.

“Damn it,” you muttered out, spinning your pen over so you could scribble over the same sentence you’ve been working on for the past thirty minutes.

“Okay, if you haven’t finished planning out your outline then I suggest you take the rest of your time to do so. Remember it’s due tonight!”

Your notebook, laptop, and the stupid sticky notes that were useless were already packed inside your bag rather hastily, your finger already shutting the zipper. The ride home was spent with you scrolling through your messages.

jk: baby, same place & time

Your heart hammered as you raced to get home to get ready for the night. It gave you such thrill that he always chose and made time specifically for you. In return you mad sure to doll up and get sexy for him. The desire was already eating you up, making your body hot, wet, and sticky with pure arousal. God, you needed him inside you so badly already. You wanted him to devour you already. It had been ages since you last saw him. You were buzzing all the way over to this place, applying lipstick knowing it would smudge all over him and his clothes.

A special knock was made between the two of you and as soon as the door opened you shoved right past him.

“Make love to me.”

He slammed you against the door, hips pressed against your core as you shamelessly opened your legs wider for him. His fingers tangled themselves into your hair, tugging softly at the roots of your hair so he could angle your mouth directly against his. He was breathing erratically, haughtily glancing down at you. He watched how responsive you were to him, loving how just with the trace of his lips ghosting upwards your neck, mouth leaving open hot, wet kisses behind, drove you completely crazy. Your breathing had picked up, thighs starting to grind against each other.

“I’ve missed you,” He hotly breathed out against your mouth before momentarily kissing you again. You nodded, panting already as you tried to reel him back against your lips again.

“I love you,” you said in between heavy breathing kissing and he easily lifted you up. Your arms instantly went around his neck, a gasp escaping your lips as you felt the bulging of his muscles.

“Yeah,” he smirked, his teeth sinking down on your bottom lip. “I know that already, baby.”

He slightly pulled away from you and as he watched you follow in pursuit trying to still get a taste of his lips with your eyes still closed, he smiled against your lips.

“Bed? Couch? Carpet? Kitchen counter?” He began to list off as his lips trailed down the crook of your neck now, causing you to shiver against his warm body. You tilted your head, a soft moan managing to slip out of your lips already as his lips softly nibbled on your skin.

“Everywhere, I don’t care,” you whined out, hands gripping on to his biceps. “Fuck, you’re so fucking hot.” You blurted out without thinking.

You could feel his grin against your skin.

“I could say the same thing about you, princess.” He hummed out, tongue sweeping your collarbones now. He nipped and sucked, leaving behind his mark on your body in his wake. And you shamelessly mewled over it, fingers tugging at his shaggy mop of hair.

“Let’s do bed first. I feel like my neighbors might have missed us.”

He threw you on the bed, hand on the back of his shirt as he began to dispose of it. His shirt slowly rode up his body, and you were watching him like a fucking hawk as you propped yourself up on your elbows, eyes taking in his well taut body. Months without seeing his body had definitely not prepared you for now. He was bulkier, his arms and thighs had gotten bigger, thicker and you couldn’t be more happier as you eyed the happy trail that led into his low hung jeans. Veins ran up his arms, his tattooed fingers looking quite tempting to suck on. It didn’t help that his biceps bulged as he balled up his shirt and flung it somewhere in his room.

The teasing asshole tried to slowly dispose of his rings, lustful eyes taking you in as you began to fling your tank top off your body. You were already halfway from slipping out of your shorts when you softly moaned out, “Please keep them on and choke me already.”

“Fuck,” he groaned out, sounding almost in pain as he saw your bare breast in full display already. You were a teasing little shit as your ran your hand over your breasts, a finger tweaking your nipple as you gasped at the sensation.

He was there in seconds, crawling on top of you. You urged him as you helped him by pulling him up by his arms to kiss him roughly on the mouth. Your legs were spread open for him, hips rutting against his harden cock.

“I need you.” You moaned out, desire beginning to overwhelm your body.

“And you don’t think I don’t?” He retorted as easily. His hands were hooking on to the band of your poor excuse of underwear. It practically only covered your cunt and the rest was just lace. “But you’re not wet enough, baby. At least, not yet.”

His fingertips skimmed your thighs as he threw your underwear behind his shoulder. He teasingly ran his index finger down your slit, gathering all of your dripping juices while groaning at the sight in front of him. He slowly began to roll figure eights on to your clit with the back of his thumb, dark gaze drinking your reactions in. There was a cocky grin laced on his pretty face, watching in fascination as you arched your back, mouth slightly open, and eyes screwed shut.

“Still so responsive to me, huh? Baby still loves it when I touch her, mhm?”

“Yes,” your voice hitched, becoming a soft mewl in response. Just the sound of his voice made you a horny, hot mess. 

He muttered out, “So wet for me, already? You missed me that much?”

His fingers were buried inside you, gathering up your moans and relishing in them. He loved teasing you, watching your mouth spell out his name as he curled his fingers inside of you, your slick making his movements more easier. Watching seemed torture for him so he knelt down, burying his mouth into your pussy.

“I’ve missed this pretty pussy so much,” he moaned against your cunt and your fingers fisted the sheets, tugging harder as his mouth sucked on your clit harshly. You had forgotten the sex between the two of you. God, who were you kidding. Of course you couldn’t forget the sex, not when he was eating you out like a deprived man.

“Oh God, oh fuck,” you whimpered out, the sensation driving you to the point of becoming so sensitive.

You could feel his tongue sliding in and out of your hole, curling and mouth slurping with his nose brushing against your clit. Your legs had begun to quiver, your hips had began to move to the movement of him tongue fucking you. Your fingers had weaved into his damp hair, cunt grinding directly on to his tongue. You felt breathless, toes digging into the mattress as your loud moans filled his room.

“Please, please, Jeongguk,” you were panting now, legs beginning to quiver from delight. You were squirming underneath him and his hand pinned you by your hip, keeping you still as his tongue slid into your hole.

“I’m sososo close, fuck me,” you incoherently began to spill out, mind and mouth becoming numb. Instead of coherent words coming out, moans were slipping from your lips, eyes rolling to the back of your head from the intensity.

he chuckled as he slid his fingers inside you while sucking on your clit. that alone has you a numbing mess as he sucked until your sensitive body gave out and you came right on his tongue. he allowed you to gather your senses, kissing your forehead, hands rubbing on your sides for gentle comfort. love emitted from his actions, only making you more eager to return the favor to your lover. it was soon enough, that your tongue slid up his cock, mouth wrapping around the tip of his cock. It was prettily glancing up at you, precum beginning to drip down the base of it. You hollowed out your cheeks, tongue sliding against the shaft before slowly taking it in your mouth. You slurped and sucked until Jeongguk’s fingers curled up against the bed sheets.

Jungkook had his arm swung over his eyes, soft panting emitting from his lips. His thighs were spread apart with you in between them on your knees, happily sucking his cock away like the good girl you were. At one point your fingers were digging into his meaty thighs, earning such responsive whimpers from him in return. He was moaning your name softly over and over again, incoherently saying into air, “f-fuck yeah, just l-like that.”

His fingers tangled themselves into your damp hair, tugging slightly harshly. he couldn’t help it, it just felt so fucking good. he was losing control just having your mouth around his fucking cock. his nerves were all over the place but your mouth wiped away every single thought out of his conscious.

“Such a good girl for me huh?” he bucked into your mouth, voice coming out low and headily. “Sucking my cock into your pretty little mouth like that.”

Your eyes fluttered open, humming along in agreement. He nodded, jaw slack as he stared right at you in the eye. He almost blew into your mouth right then, but how couldn't he when his pretty baby was sucking him dry. But he needed to cum inside of you. He needed to finish inside your pussy so badly.

“Baby, you’re such a slut,” he cooed out and you moaned out. He lost it. Your hands were fisting the rest that couldn’t fit, head bobbing up down as his cock slid inside your mouth. Watching Jeongguk lose himself like that, whimpering nonsense into the air, “so, so, so good to me.”

“Let me—”

“No,” he shoved you back against the bed, and he began crawling over you to pin your arms above your head. “Spread your legs for me, baby.” He ordered, voice low and raspy. “I know you love to.”

You spread your legs for him, and he teasingly grinded himself over your dripping cunt, the tip of his cock nudging your clit ever so deliciously. A low, strangled moan escaped your lips as he rolled his hips against yours and he kissed you, catching it between his lips, eating off from it. He coated his cock with your juices, grunts coming from his pretty lips as his grip tightened around your hands. His fingers intertwined with yours, pressing them against the mattress as he rolled his hips against yours, each thrust gliding his thick cock against your dripping cunt.

“yes, yes,” you whimpered out in desperation. “Fill me up. Get inside of me and cum all you want,” you begged him, pleading as your fingers dug into his.

Instead Jungkook just placed his lips against the shell of your ear, teeth softly nibbling your earlobe, tongue following pursuit to trace down from your ear to the crook of your neck as he continued to run his tongue all over your burning skin.

“Please, I need you,” you choked out, tears welling up in your eyes. “Please.”

“I know, princess,” he roughly grunted out, teeth biting down his bottom lip.

He leaned against his side, his veiny hand tightly gripping your thigh as he hitched it over his waist. He kissed you hungrily and so desperately. His tongue rolling over yours, nipping and sucking at your bottom lip as you exhaled deeply and shakily. Your hands had wandered up from his broad shoulders to his dark hair, tugging at it as you eagerly obeyed and parted your lips for him.

A throaty groan emitted from his lips, his eyebrows furrowing and his pupils blown out in pure lust. He slowly slid out and slammed his hips against yours, and you needily gripped on to him, hands digging into his broad back. Your mouth opened for him and he wasted no time into sucking your tongue in his mouth.

“Oh, fuck,” you managed to softly moan out, the roll of his hips against yours making you feel stupid dizzy. You grinded upwards, meeting his rolled movements in sync. Your breathing had increased, becoming mixed into choked up mewls curse words. 

He gathered your legs, pressing them against yours chest. You could hear his soft groans emitting from his lips, your pussy milking him so sweetly. 

“You feel so good, princess,” he inhaled sharply at the sound of his cock sliding out of your dripping cunt, groan becoming muffled against the crook of your neck. His hot breath fanned against your skin, fingers curling on the side of the covers. 

The bed was beginning to move along the rhythm of his hips grinding against your pubic bone. His chest was starting to drip with sweat, strands of his wavy hair damp and beginning to stick on his forehead. You watched how Jeongguk lost himself within you as he rolled downward, grunting as a small whimper escaped from your mouth. Your breast were bouncing as he deliberately fucked your pretty brains out. 

It was nice to touch you like this after so long.

“Turn around, ass up for me baby.” He ordered you, and like the good girl you were, you complied eagerly to please him.

You got on all fours, ass sticking up just the way he liked it. He licked the palm of his hand before massaging your ass in his hands. With a loud smack, he left behind his handprint on your swollen, red cheeks as you buried your face in the sheets, mouth wide open in such a heeding state. He slid inside you once more, causing you moan so loudly as your pussy welcomed him once again. The headboard smacked against the neighbors wall and your moans weren’t helping either as he fucked you senseless.

You were sliding off the bed at this point, but it felt so fucking good.

“Fuck, fuck I’m c-close,” he moaned out against your shoulder, biting down on your skin. You clenched tighter, loving the sound of skin on skin. He didn’t last long after that, crumbling right behind you.

“Fuck,” he breathlessly let out, sliding out of you to lay down next to you. He was kissing you roughly, mouths clashing with front teeth scraping and tongues wanting to rival one another. His arms winded around your body, not wanting to let you go at all. It made your heart flutter. God, you loved him so much.

“I forgot just how good you could fuck me,” you said, rolling over to grab a joint from his jacket. He was handing you his lighter, his other hand running its finger into his messy hair. His cheeks seemed flushed, a boyish grin lacing his features.

“Gotta make sure my baby is reminded every single time,” he winked as you blew out smoke directly on to his face. 

“C’mere,” he patted his thighs and you slowly crawled over him, joint in mouth as you settled between his thighs. 

He gently took it out of your mouth, setting it in between his lips instead. Smoke engulfed the both of you, and you leaned into his arms. You wanted to feel and hear his heartbeat once more.

“I missed you.” He confessed after a while, his eyes set steady on yours.

“I’m sure you did.” You rolled your eyes in defiance and he fiercely grabbed a hold of your face to stop you in your place.

“I’m being serious,” he began, slowly inching closer and not letting go of you. “I love you. You are the one for me.”

He ran his fingers down your spine, eyes taking your beautiful features in. He was simply watching you in awe, your presence reminding him of what he had let go quite stupidly. He never led you on, promising you what you always wanted when it seemed nearly impossible, but he was so fucked in love with you. He dreamed of you and yearned for you to be by his side already.

He said with such utmost sincerity, “I’m gonna blow off my engagement.”

You hummed in contentment. Jeon Jungkook was the price and you had won. Though his fiancée would be messy to deal with, you knew he would protect you against her, plus you already had a house and cars under your name. All assets would soon be yours.

“I knew you couldn’t stay away,” you giggled against his mouth. In all seriousness, you were ecstatic to hear that your lover was finally about to cut off the only thing standing in your way.

His fiancée.

“Can I bounce on your cock as a celebration?”

You settled yourself in between his legs, taking the joint from his hand.  You inhaled deeply, feeling hazy and warm in the comfort of your man’s arms. “Yes?”

“By all means,” he waved his hand towards his cock. His hand was already placed behind your head, inching you closer to him. His lips mouthed against yours, “Be my guest. It’s all yours.”

[senanatheskenana]

Being Their Soul Mate <3

Tanjirou, Zenitsu, Inosuke x reader (separate)

Tanjirou Kamado

From the moment you got close enough for Tanjirou to smell, he knew you were his soul mate. And before you know it, he's sprinting towards you, following the perfect smell. He stops in front of you, blushing like a fool from head to toe.

You can feel the pull towards him, even without an introduction. Your eyes can hardly leave each other, basking in the overwhelming silence. You smile at him, your own cheeks tinted pink, holding out your hand to him. He jumps out of his daze and grips your hand enthusiastically, bringing it to his lips to place a heartfelt kiss on your knuckles.

"I'm sorry to be so forward, i really should have introduced myself before. Please forgive me!" he bows deeply- so deeply you think his head may hit the floor. You fight back a sheepish laugh, shaking your head.

"My name is Tanjirou Kamado, it's beyond a pleasure to meet you," he still holds your hand carefully, loose enough for you to pull it away should you desire to. You don't.

"I'm (f/n) (l/n). I never imagined my soul mate to be as sweet as you, Tanjirou," you can see how his face turns even redder at your words, stuttering out broken sentences.

You gently squeeze his hand, "Did you want to join me on my walk? we have a lot to talk about, I feel"

He nods eagerly, letting you pull him through the streets, all while staring bashfully at the way your hair sways as you move. He thinks he might already be in love.

Zenitsu Agatsuma

'Marry me!'

Those were the words inked into your wrist. A brash, scribbling handwriting. Admittedly you were worried about the circumstances of you meeting your soul mate, given the intense first words.

Evidently, the situation was not nearly as sad as you worried it could be. You weren't being married off, no.

Your soul mate was just super weird.

You shake your leg, hoping to remove the boy from his hold. He's sobbing on the floor, mumbling incoherent pleas at you, still shaken up from the demon he would have been attacked by, had you not struck.

"W-what the hell? You can't just spring that on someone!" you squeal. Finally, he lets go, a look of shock on his face. A moment later a shockingly warm sensation takes over the two of you. You grip your wrist, and he scratches at his shoulder, letting out yelps of 'ouchies'

You look down at your wrist to see the letters glowing gold, pulsing against your bones. Zenitsu gazes up at you momentarily before bawling and returning to clinging onto your legs. You take the time to help him up while his two friends watch in confusion and embarrassment at his actions.

He holds both of your hands and brings them to his cheeks, and you can feel how hot his face is. "Y-you're my soul mate. That means you have to marry me"

You sigh but smile. At least he was enthusiastic, you guessed.

"Maybe let's just start with a date and we can go from there" His tears disappear at your words, replaced by a gigantic smile, not even you can resist.

Inosuke Hashibira

For as long as Inosuke can remember, he's had the name (f/n) (l/n) engraved into his collarbone. Too bad he couldn't read it without Tanjirou's help.

"(f/n) (l/n)..." Tanjirou taps his chin in thought for a moment before gasping, "I got it- that's the ice pillar's name! "

Zenitsu fawns at the idea, "Wow, imagine having a soul mate strong enough to be a Hashira"

He hears the word strong and immediately puffs out his chest, "If they're strong, I'm gonna beat 'em!" Tanjirou now realises that Inosuke doesn't know the concept of Soul Mates.

By the time he tries to explain it, the boy is sprinting through the courtyard, dodging pillars and kakushi.

"Inosuke-" Tanjirou cannot finish his mortified plea.

"ICE HASHIRA COME HERE AND FIGHT ME!" everyone turns towards him in shock and confusion.

"Don't be so loud! if you really wanna see them, they're sitting on that bench" Sanemi scowls at the group of boys, making Tanjirou blanch, uttering apologies.

You're peacefully lying across the bench, nose planted firmly in your book when a shadow falls over you. Slowly you gaze up at the man towering over you before moving to sit up straight.

You recognise the boy in the checkered haori, smiling "Hello Tanjirou. It's nice to see you again. Are these your friends"

Before a smiling Tanjirou can respond, Inosuke brings his sword down beside your hand.

"FIGHT ME!" his face flushes with blood as he seethes under his mask.

You give him a serene smile, "I'm sorry but I believe it would be dangerous for you if I were to fight back."

He pays no mind and swings his sword above him. He looks down only to find you gone in the blink of an eye. In less than three seconds, his katanas are wrenched out of his hands as he is pinned to the ground.

Tanjirou gasps at the embarrassingly short battle- if you could call it such. "Inosuke! Are you both alright?"

'Inosuke?'

You glance down at the man under your foot, "Is your name Inosuke Hashibira?" you ask as calmly as ever, gently releasing him from the hold.

"Yeah, what's it to you?" he scowls under his mask. He doesn't know why he's so nervous around you but it's pissing him off.

"My name is (y/n), the ice Hashira," your smile has an unanticipated calming effect on inosuke, "it would seem we are soul mates"

he blushes at your giggle, still not understanding what a soul mate is. He looks at Tanjirou for help, who sighs.

It was going to be an agonising conversation. He drags the boar boy away, inosuke still staring at you as you wave them goodbye. He wouldn't admit that he missed you already.

[actually-safer-to-kiss]

The Drafts

Summary: Spencer confronts Reader about a breakup text he found in her Notes app

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Angst, Comfort?

Content warnings: Manipulation, lying, yelling, anger, ambiguous ending

Word count: 1.5k

You check yourself out in the bathroom mirror. It’s date night, and it’s been long overdue since Spencer’s been called away to four states in the past two weeks. Despite the stress that already comes with that (and the current state of your relationship), the dress he got you makes up for it, and helps you think about how lucky you are in more ways than one. It fits you just right without trapping you in the fabric. Even the fluorescent lights in his bathroom can’t make you look bad. “Spencer!” You call out, zhuzhing your hair again before leaving. No response, but you flick the switch off before saying, “I’m ready whenever you are!”

Still nothing. Not surprising. It’s rare when Spencer isn’t lost in his own mind. You’ve learned not to ask every time this happens because it often leads to theoretical explanations that go over your head within seconds. On rare occasions, he’s discovered a plot hole in one of the older Dr. Who episodes (which also go over your head).

This is a different time though. Because when you turn the corner to the bedroom, Spencer isn't hunched over his desk or scribbling incoherence on his whiteboard (yes, he has a whiteboard in his bedroom and has refused to move it for reasons unexplained). Instead, he’s pacing the small area between the wall and the foot of his bed. He’s hunched over the phone. Your phone.

You try to bite back the instant frustration as his bare feet smack the floor. “Spencer,” you monitor your tone. “Are you ready?”

“You’re breaking up with me?” That is all he asks when he finally stops to look up at you. He’s not exactly emotional, but he’s definitely holding back.

Red hotly spreads across your cheeks. “What?”

He points and his eyebrows rise like he’s found evidence at a crime scene. “Flushed face.”

“Spencer, we’ve talked about —”

“Likely a sign of embarrassment from being exposed.” He turns the phone screen to face you; paragraphs of text and broken sentences from previous editing attempts. Arguably, not your finest work.

Your mouth is agape, and it is hard to fight the instinct to close it upon suspicion of further guilt. You bet he’ll assume surprise. “I thought we talked about you not looking through my phone.”

“Because you didn’t want me to see this?” He gestures back at it as if it’s not obvious. Sadness is already breaking some barriers, starting with his voice, but he’s trying to maintain a smug demeanor. Even in potential agony, Spencer can still get a high from being right.

You grunted. It was involuntary but honest. It came out of your throat like steam, as the anger in your core is already overflowing into the rest of your body. It bursts again when you snatch the phone out of his hands. He doesn’t flinch, damn him. You scroll up and down on the app incoherently, reminding yourself of the words he’s read and memorized. You think of how they’ll haunt you, how he’ll haunt you with them. “I can’t believe you went through my phone again.”

“I can’t believe you’re not even trying to fix this," he says. “I-I understand that things aren’t the most ideal right now, but we could’ve made time to talk about it.”

“What? Like not going through my phone? Look at how that worked out.”

“I know you’ve been acting differently. No kisses goodbye every day, spacing out at dinners with my coworkers, and a slew of other things.”

“Oh, are they written down on yours? I'd love to read them.”

Spencer shakes his head, letting his eidetic memory speak for itself there. “I’m a profiler, Y/N. And I can’t deny facts.”

The grunt before was delicate compared to the noise you make now. What the noise was is unknown, but terrifying. It wipes Spencer's smirk clean off. “Yes! You’re a profiler! I’m reminded of that every single goddamn day because every move I make near you is analyzed under a microscope!” You resist throwing your phone on the bed; partly out of fear of where it will bounce to, and partly Spencer snatching it up again. Instead, you tap the screen, exiting the Notes app and navigating to your texts. You press the latest contact, Garcia. Then you stay there, knowing Spencer will see the screen brightness show slightly on your face. “You didn’t read my texts, did you?”

Spencer doesn’t say anything. Your eyes dart towards him, and you can tell he wonders what cruel piece of evidence he missed.

“Yeah. Cause if you did, you would’ve known I was writing a breakup text for someone else. But you didn’t. So once again, you’ve snooped and gone out of your way to hurt your own feelings for no reason.”

The look on Spencer’s face. No matter how angry you get, how wrong he is, the sullen puppy dog look this man can pull off with his eyes alone is a weapon. It always makes him look pitiful.

And it makes lying to him even more painful.

“Spencer.” You say with a sigh.

“Who’s it for?”

You throw your head back. “Why is that your business?”

Spencer’s interrogation tactics often get in the way of the fact that he’s not facing a criminal, but his girlfriend. His girlfriend whose privacy he violated with no warrant presented to you. But when Spencer is on a case, he fails to differentiate between the two. You’ve practically heard him making mental notes when your behavior is even slightly off. Even when they have nothing to do with him. But he’s always quick to assume they are as he’s either leaving for work or being called away before discussions can occur. Spencer is a profiler, yes, but all profilers can let their emotions get the better of them.

You show Spencer your wrists. Gold bracelets clang together instead of silver cuffs. “What’s the goal here, Dr. Reid?”

He paces the floor again, briefly, before settling on the bed corner. He’s still looking at the floor, thinking, but you can tell his thought process has slowed down thanks to your (alleged) evidence. "Something must be wrong." He whispers. It’s pathetic. “You used to tell me everything.”

“And you used to not look through my things.” You’d hate to admit that you’re shaking too, but not from sadness. You stay standing, and put your phone on the dresser next to you. Face down. You cross your arms. “Things can change. Actions have consequences.”

He exhales briefly through his nose. He looks up, his eyes already shifting to a pinkish hue. “So it’s your turn to lecture me because —”

“Because my boyfriend is profiling off the clock again? Yes. Because he’s interrogating me and questioning my intentions when he’s supposed to be getting ready for date night? A date night he insisted upon because he’s been working overtime and profiling on a jet for the entire month? Yes.”

The anger. The intensity of it all pierced your blood long before. It coiled around your vocal cords while making your point. You had plenty more to say. A slideshow would’ve been worthy of listing Spencer’s actions over the last three months alone. Except the strain is hard, and clearing your throat doesn’t help. So you stand there, looking down at the miserable man you loved once. You pretend the silence is intentional, you let it speak for itself. 

And by some miracle (or perhaps the predicted luck of your dress), it worked. After wiping the budding tears from his eyes, Spencer studies you from curled hair to strappy heels. You know a stray movement will ignite a thousand rebuttals. You preferred dinner, so you maintain your statue-like stillness by raising only your eyebrows.

Spencer swallows. “I’m sorry.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I should’ve…” He nods while clamping his lips closed. “Yeah, I should have talked to you first. I’m so sorry.”

You exhale. It could be the relief of moving again. Or the fact that you can’t help but comfort the sad man who is still technically your boyfriend. You take his hand and pull him off the bed and allow him to rest his head on your shoulder while holding your waist. His palms are flat on your back as his chest heaves and caves. Your arms are around his neck, and you comfort him with soft hushes. Meanwhile, adrenaline depletion is already beckoning your eyes to close. But you stare at the wall.

You’re so tired. You’ve been tired. Decaying is perhaps the best word for all of this. Nevertheless, you hold Spencer tightly to let him know you’re there. It's all the strength you have. The strength to end things though is of a different caliber than you thought you could fathom. You can collect enough to rip off the world's most difficult bandaid, eventually. But Spencer Reid with a theoretical broken heart is already painful enough to witness. He needs you right now. And right now, you'll be there for him.

Thank you to @imagining-in-the-margins and her discord for helping me with fleshing out this story 🩵

[tired-biscuit]

Warnings: 18+ mdni. established relationship. fem!reader. aged up kat. anal.

a/n: i finally gave in and wrote this filth, ok. it's been on my mind for a while, please forgive me lol.

---

THE moan Katsuki lets out is guttural.

He’s sweating like crazy on top of the navy blue sheets as he pants, the lust-driven look in his eyes purely male. Releasing a small sigh, the freshly-turned twenty-six-year-old smirks at the feverish warmth to surround him by the time his heavy cock sinks fully inside you.

Being balls deep inside your tight ass is pure bliss. All lubed up and twitching in delight to really relish the lewd birthday gift you give him every 365 days, and which he's so very impatient to receive, Katsuki doesn't mind at all that he's one year closer to thirty as he chuckles and shoves himself even deeper carefully.

The short "Hah... Fuck yeah, baby." is purely derisive by the time his entire length experiences the pleasant tightness of the tiny hole you don't allow him to fuck all that often. You're all stretched out as you accept him. He's so lucky.

You squeak when he pushes further inside you slowly; sweat-coated body trembling in the firm reverse cowgirl position he holds you in. Your legs are squeezed together and bent at the knees. He's pushing them further against your chest with the help of his rough hands resting on the back of your thighs, just so that he can actually impale you on his fucking cock. You feel like you're going to explode from how badly he wants in, in, in.

He's relentless.

"Ki," you whisper, brow furrowing at the pang of hot ache to sear through you when he angles himself better and pushes even further. "Easy, baby. I-I know you're excited, but... We gotta take it sl-... Oh, my fucking god, s-slow...! Go slow, baby. Please."

"Mhmmm, goin' slow and easy, pretty... Anythin' y'want," he replies dazedly. His words have nearly become an incoherent slur and twist of tongue from how good you're making him feel, but all the bitter liquor he's drank at the small get-together you've surprised him with - and which he pretended he hated - might be one to blame as well.

After all, the vanilla cake you got him for his 26th birthday was sickeningly cute on purpose; entirely covered in rich buttercream icing and drizzled with colourful sprinkles, which he swears gave him a headache whenever he looked at them for too long.

You've even went as far as to make him blow out the candles that had been propped up in the middle of the giant scribble of icing, spelling out a dramatic: ‘Happy birthday, Katsuki!’ in bright red colouring.

All of it is clearly a symbol of your loving, albeit taunting relationship - he knows it is. You buy the stupid cake for him just to be a menace every year, but he still ate every last bite of the giant piece you handed him at his super secret surprise party - the one that isn't even that much of a surprise, after the third annual time it's happened - even though the bridge of his nose wrinkled in annoyance during the entirety of him chewing the silly thing.

The presents he received from his friends were okay. The texts that kept making his cell phone beep were annoying. The long phone call he had to endure from his mother and father so that they could congratulate their son on turning one year older in his outrageously busy life was outright pesky. Truth be told, Katsuki felt low-key thankful by the time his birthday at long last came to an end and he was able to drop his tired body into bed.

But he feels good now - getting to do anal with you. So good, in fact, that he'd even consider enduring all of the birthday antics you tend to pull on him as some twisted form of a sick joke. Actually, he'd let you watch him suffer in his little party hat, and would let you take photos of him blowing out the shitty candles, if it meant that he would be spoiled rotten like this at least once every few days, every week, every month, every year; not just on April goddamn 20th.

He's just that greedy. That horny for that tight peach of yours.

"Ah, fuck... Ki!" You whine now; this desperate, prolonged sort of sob that yanks him right out of his thoughts as you say, "You feel s'big inside me... So, so big."

"It's 'cause you feel so damn good, babe," he compliments in reply, the tone of his voice so utterly strained. "You've got me s'hard that it makes my fuckin' dick hurt." It's true. He's ready to bust a nut so embarrassingly quick from how good it feels. It's a lucky thing that he's as stubborn as he is to resist it.

There's a wildfire in your eyes that he knows is there, despite that he can't see it when you grit out, "Well, your dick hurts me!" It hurts me so good.

"Yeah?" he says, unable to wipe the crooked, lazy grin from his face now. His hands grab a better hold of your thighs, calloused fingers digging deep into the plush flesh so that he can keep you still when you start to squirm. "Well, it ain't my fault you've got such a fuckable ass, huh? I wish I could see how pretty you look like this... With my dick up that tight hole of yours."

You're about to bite back a snarky remark, though nothing comes out except for a slutty moan the moment his thick fingers find your clit. A waterfall of filthy curses he rarely hears you voice leaves your pouty lips and sticks to ceiling of your shared bedroom at the divine friction he gives you now. It seems that he isn't the only one that gets to be spoiled this year.

He starts to rub lazy circles on the cute, sensitive button - all languid and precise, until the hole that's empty of him starts to flutter in response, and you begin to beg him to start pounding into you so that you can be filled up to the brim with his warm seed as soon as possible. The anticipation makes your legs literally shake. You're barely able to keep it together - and this fast, too.

Katsuki listens to your high-pitched pleas that grow both in fervour and necessity as more and more time passes. He's mindful as his hips begin to rut into you, keenly listening to the lewd squelching noises the lube produces with that heavy pat, pat, pat, and your heavy breathing when he gets an even better angle and strikes home. The clench you give him in response is so potent that he's about ready to lose his fucking mind.

The entire room smells like caramel from how much he's sweating. Salt is literally dribbling down both of his temples, but he still keeps going. He just can't stop. Not when you're about to cum from having his big, fat cock inside your ass.

"Gonna-... Gonna cum soon! Fuck, fuck, fuck - I-I'm so close, Kat."

"Yeah? I gotcha, baby... I gotcha. Imma take care of you. Gonna make you cum, promise."

Your curves jiggle against his abdomen as you take his dick like a fucking champ and keep on bouncing; nearly squealing in a pitch so high it makes his ears hurt when he pinches your puffy clit and turns you so overstimulated that you're nearly ready to squirt and gush all over him. As you squeeze your eyes shut and tip over the edge only minutes later, plunging into an orgasm of a different kind, that you only dare to experience once a year as a treat for your brute of a boyfriend.

He follows not a moment after you've floated up into the heavens and turned brain-dead. Everything feels fuzzy inside your mind as he fills you up with his cum and lets out another broken moan and a grunt of an especially nasty curse, but the warm ropes of white are pleasant as they coat your walls. You can tell he's been barely withholding his own climax; the entirety of his body feels so stiff and hot underneath you. Even his jaw is clenched so tightly that it clicks when he snaps it shut. It's just a different kind of experience, after all. Everything is more intense, hence why his eyes are rolling back and his head is sent tipping into the mattress.

"Maybe-... Fuck, oh my..." You suck in a sharp breath to recollect your buzzing thoughts as the words fade away into silence and you stick to his heaving chest until you're practically glued together. He's cummed so much that his cum leaks out of you even if he's still inside you, dick slowly going soft and tender. The milky release is drooling right down to his balls by the time you finally manage to finish your sentence, "Maybe we should take a picture next year, mm? Since you wanna see me so bad."

"I'd like that," he whispers quietly, pulling you closer and kissing your naked shoulder gently. "I'd like that a whole fuckin' lot, baby."

It's true. Katsuki may not like being the birthday boy and the attention it brings, but it’s different when he gets to spend it with you. The presents you give him on his birthday are always the best, after all.

To say that he can barely wait for the one he'll get for his 27th would be an understatement.

[mcdonaldsnumberone]

LOVE ME HARDER!

you swear your favorite color has nothing to do with kaiser. but unluckily for you, the boy’s fallen madly in love with you and has somehow convinced himself that he can connect the dots to make you fall madly in love with him. when you meet his flirting with a tough front though, kaiser has a secret weapon up his sleeve (or under his uniform collar).

gender neutral reader

content warning(s): reader’s favorite color is blue, kaiser’s tattoo isn’t super visible with his uniform in this fic

You loved blue.

You still do. And for the foreseeable future, you weren’t going to ever stop loving the color. It was a color so dear and special to you, and as much as you loved all the other colors, there was something indescribable about the blue hue.

It was everywhere. The color of the sky. The ocean. The small Google Docs icon while you scribbled down notes on your computer. A stray car in the distance while you crossed the road. It was the color of loyalty and knowledge, the cool tones even embodying the mystifying feeling of melancholy. And, if you allowed yourself to get a little pretentious and philosophical, probably the color of the universe. 

What a dignified color. You would never stop loving blue. Not ever. Certainly not now. And you would never extinguish your love of the color because of a man.

But boy, was someone making it difficult.

You always heard him before you saw him: the rumble of footsteps, Ness gushing incoherent praise, the shrill trill of German words hanging in the air. Like an overture before a grand opera, except those thirty seconds were the only prep time you’d get to turn on your heel and book it out of there if you didn’t want to say hello to your biggest headache.

“Oh, daaaarling! There you are! Hey- Don’t run away!”

An outstretched pair of arms materialized on either side of your body, and you let out a loud yelp before you were pulled backwards into a tight hug. You screeched like a feral cat, clawing helplessly at the air while a loud haughty laugh rang out against your eardrums.

It was only when you turned around that the sense of hearing gave out to the sense of sight. Beautiful strands of blond-blue hair swept across your eyes, the twinkle of his golden locks not too unlike the catlike gleam in his pupils. Speaking of his eyes, you hated the stupid bastard for how much blue he had on him and more importantly, how good it looked. Even the smug azure of his crinkled eyes made you stop breathing for just a split second, and your lips parted unconsciously as your hatred momentarily dissipated into wonder at the delicate hue.

“Staring at me? Awwwww, do you think I’m handsome? Of course you do. You wouldn't be so starstruck otherwise,” he chuckled. You instantly snapped out of your stupor, and you twisted your face into a disgusted frown.

“Take your hands off of me, you idiot,” you snarled. “I’m not in the mood to talk to you.”

“Oh? Perfect. I think that’s perfect timing to talk to you.” Kaiser kept one arm slung firmly over your shoulders, expertly placing himself at your side. You dug your heels into the ground and kept your place whenever he tried to edge you closer to his torso, egging you to relax into his touch. “Busy being a little color nerd again? I think it’s adorable that you’d pick your favorite color after me-”

“-I did not pick my favorite color after you,” you huffed. You crossed your arms, and you glared directly up at him (this time, you took extra care not to get lost in his eyes). “Do you really think I don’t have a personality or something? To pick a favorite color after a man?”

He shrugged. “Hey, I’m a pretty charming guy, if I do say so myself. Just now, you couldn’t keep your eyes off of me. I’d say I wear the color well. Say, if I swapped my red eyeliner out for a blue one, would that make you stare at me even more?”

You wanted to push him off, but you knew better than to engage a professional athlete in a half-wrestle-half-run-for-your-life-thing. “In your dreams. You’re an atrocious mix of colors.”

“Sure.” He easily brushed your words off. He broke out into his usual smug grin, chuckling at you as if he were a cat toying with a mouse. If he could, you swore that he’d gobble you up in one bite and leave no crumbs. “But I’d say blue is totally my color.”

Red hot annoyance flooded your body. This was so unlike you, to be moved to such anger that you’d be thinking of any color other than your favorite cyan hue, but something about this man made you want to beat him to a bloody pulp until he truly was nothing more than a mix of crimson and black and white broken bones. 

“Blue is MY color!” You grumbled. “I liked it even before I met you! Hell, I probably understand it better than you do! Dipping your hair in Kool-Aid and being born with blue eyes doesn’t automatically make blue your color! It’s my favorite color, and me liking it has nothing to do with you! Not everything revolves around you, Kaiser!”

You fumed at him, having blurted out all of the tension mounting inside of your chest. You stood there, wanting to claw off the weight of his arm across your shoulders. You wondered if Kaiser would yell back at you, if those beautiful sapphire eyes of his would narrow into small slits before he’d wind up for the pounce, if he truly would swallow you up into a void of blue nothingness just to prove you wrong.

But instead he threw his head back, and he laughed heartily.

“You’re too funny for your own good.” He pretended to wipe a tear from his eye with his other hand, and he barely held himself together long enough to look at you. “The world? Revolve around me? Maybe to all those other stupid commoners. Those brainless fools need a stunning star to guide them. To give them any purpose in life.”

You grimaced, skin crawling with disdain as he yanked you closer. His free hand caressed the outline of your cheeks and jaw, and you let out a small “eep!” as he hooked his fingers under your chin to gingerly lift your face to meet his. You held your breath as the German prodigy leaned in, until the silhouette of his peach-pink lips were much too close to your mouth for your liking.

“But, darling… Oh, my sweet, stupid darling…” His voice was far too smooth for your own liking. Like the lining of a regal blue mink-fur lined cape, the kind you’d see in a 1700s painting of a king, the edge you get from swallowing down a mouthful of ice water. He looked too pleased with himself, having you ensnared perfectly in his arms like this. The thick tension that hung between the two of you felt like poisoned honey, and he shook his head at you mockingly. “If anyone were to pay attention closely, they’d know that the script is much more different for you than it is for those everyday fools.”

“Don’t lump me in your weird fantasy.” You blinked at him defiantly. He pursed his lips slightly, but Kaiser didn’t waver even once. 

“All I want to say is that there’s nothing wrong in admiring beautiful things. If you like blue that much, nothing wrong with admiring the blue on me, is there? It’s unhealthy to deny yourself the things that you love so much.” He let you go finally, and you practically leapt out away from him. “If you don’t want to throw yourself at my feet and beg to play the role of my dedicated love interest, that’s fine too! Although, I don’t see why you wouldn’t want to. Anyone would be honored to have my attention the way you do.”

“You’re a self-centered prick. I don’t want to give you any more attention than what I’m already wasting on you.”

“That’s what I’m saying! If you let down your high walls and properly let yourself admire me for the beautiful, charming, handsome guy I am, then it wouldn’t be a waste of your time.” He expertly flicked his hair over his shoulder, winking at you as some of the strands tumbled down his collarbones and back. As atrocious of a haircut as it was, you did have to admit that the color of his weird gradient was very pleasing to your eyes.

But you’d rather eat knives than admit it out loud. 

“You’ll have to try harder than that. Anyone can dye hair,” you muttered, thoroughly unconvinced. “And before you ask, I’m not interested in staring at your eyes either. Blue eyes mean nothing to me. And I can always go buy color contacts off the internet and stare at those instead if I really want to.”

“Boo! That’s so boring! Wouldn’t you want a real living person? Someone with personality?” He pouted.

You rolled your own eyes. “Yeah. Someone that doesn’t have a stick stuck up their ass.”

Kaiser pressed his lips into a line, suddenly lost in heavy thought. He knew your patience was already running thin with him, and while it was frustrating that the typical antics he’d lavish onto his fans wasn’t netting him the reaction he wanted from you, it still thrilled him the same. You were so tough to crack! He knew deep down that you had some heart for him and that you loved admiring beautiful things! And was he not the most beautiful thing of them all? He was skilled, talented, the kind of guy anyone should be flattered to have. All he needed was to convince you with something unique, something that no other groupie or fan of his couldn’t have, and maybe that would be the key to luring you over.

To turn that burning red hatred of yours into a calm, placated blue interest.

“Well, what if I give you something truly special then? If I could show you something that you have to admit is beautiful, would you admire me then?” He offered tentatively. You sniffed, keeping your head held high, but he took your silence to mean that it wasn’t a complete refusal.

He broke out into the biggest grin you had ever seen. Your confidence wavered slightly at his smug smirk, and nervousness prickled over your skin. You held your breath as Kaiser slowly raised his hand to his neck. Two fingers hooked onto the golden collar of his Bastard Munchen uniform, which covered a generous portion of his neck.

He yanked down. 

A flash of deep, royal blue stunned your vision, and your eyes instinctively widened. Kaiser tilted his neck to the opposite side, making sure you could catch a proper glimpse at the part of his throat that was normally concealed by his uniform. You felt like something inside of your brain had violently hit the brakes the moment the color hit your eyes. 

Roses.

Beautiful, beautiful blue roses. 

You’re automatically entranced by them. They’re tattoos, each expertly painted on his skin with a careful hand. The black outline makes the rich hues pop even more against his body, and while you tiptoe forward to catch a better view, you can only make out the better part of one of the bigger roses. The rest are covered by his uniform, and you can see the hint of inked thorns traveling away from the flowers and towards his arm. 

Kaiser instantly caught the shift in energy from you. He wisely kept his mouth shut, but some prideful part of him was celebrating inwardly. He let you step closer to admire the handiwork on his body, your curiosity delighting him to no ends.

You wanted to touch them. To touch him. Oh, you could imagine the feeling of soft rose petals under your fingertips while you were utterly mesmerized by his tattoo, almost forgetting that it was just an inked drawing rather than real flowers.

“Well? Isn’t it lovely?” 

You flinched, snapping back to life. Dumbfounded, you were at a loss for words. It was completely unlike you to not have some kind of mean comeback to snark at him with, but the secret weapon Kaiser had on hand was too much. His tattoo had overwhelmed you in a heartbeat, the artistic touch only making you want to see it again.

But unfortunately for you, he adjusted his uniform back into its regular position with a cruel smile. “See? I knew you’d like it. Do you want to look at it again? Oh, I know you do. C’mon, tell me. Tell me you want to see it again. It’s not like I’m going to refuse.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, and very hesitantly, you swallowed back your pride. “Can… Can I see your tattoo again?”

“With pleasure, darling.” He cooed. He paused for a moment, and he pulled you closer towards him. You gulped nervously when he peered down at you, clearly savoring the victory he had earned by pulling wool (or in this case, a lovely tattoo) over your eyes. 

“But why don’t I take you to my room instead? I’ll take off my shirt for you. That way you can see the entire thing. And then you can fawn over me properly. You just said you wanted to see my tattoo again. Those pretty roses,” he leaned in, tempting you over and over with the fleeting memory, “Those pretty, pretty roses that are in your absolute favorite color.”

You were torn, and Kaiser reveled in that tormented expression of yours.

He held his hand out. “No need to be shy. Let me show you all sorts of beautiful blue things, my darling.”

x

[roseharpermaxwell]

RWRB FirstPrince Smut Favorite Recs

I thought about sorting these further, but there's so much overlap. Click below for a compilation of favorites! Among other things, you'll find some praise, glasses, lingerie, competency, piercings, somnophilia...maybe a cheeky threesome or two.

Meet Me In The Middle by @clottedcreamfudge. M, 1k. Henry is sitting at the table, scribbling something in a familiar notebook with one hand, while he does a Rubik's Cube with the other.

He's. Doing a Rubik's Cube. With one hand. He's not even looking at it. Alex isn't prepared for this. He thinks he might have dropped his jacket, but he can't say for sure, because he can't feel his fucking hands.

As long as you're with me, you'll be just fine. by barthelme. E, 1k. Henry has a history of falling into what Alex affectionately calls a ‘dick coma’ when he’s getting fucked just right. His eyes roll back and his eyes close and his pleads for Alex to fuck him harder, right there, yes, etc. turn into guttural moans and maybe,maybe, once or twice he has drooled. Not a lot, but enough for Alex to give him shit about it and whatever, it’s not a big deal.

second finger to the right, and straight on til morning by @cheesecurdsgravyandfries. E, 1.2k. "Sweetheart, where's my prostate?"

or, 1286 words of irredeemable porn wherein Henry makes Alex come really hard. Twice.

Temperature's Up, 'Bout to Erupt by @sparklepocalypse. E, 1.2k. Alex’s senses spark with the taste of Henry’s tongue, the smell of leather and sweat, and the feeling of their bodies pressed together from knee to chest. Through Henry’s shirt, the small of his back is a hot, shuddering plane beneath Alex’s palm, and Alex wants.

Volume Control by @hgejfmw-hgejhsf. E, 1.5k. Prompt Fulfillment: I need someone to write a FirstPrince fic where Henry overhears Alex saying "Henry is so annoying I can't stand him" so Henry says "kneel then" and it short circuits Alex's brain.

Modification to the map of you by colorfulmoniker. E, 1.6k. Henry comes back from a month-long trip with his ear pierced, and Alex has no idea.

only bought these shorts so you can take them off by buttercupblues. E, 1.6k. alex accidentally buys a pair of short shorts, but when he discovers he likes them, he buys more. henry's brain short circuits.

this night just can't end by ironwords. E, 1.6k. Henry, beautiful, wonderful Henry, instantly pulls Alex off his dick—by his hair, a move Alex finds just as arousing as whatever the fuck just happened—breathing out an apology before asking if he’s alright.

Alex takes stock of himself. His jaw kind of hurts, but that’s not anything out of the ordinary, and he’s panting, mouth full of drool he has to take a second to swallow, and– Oh. His underwear is sticky. His underwear is sticky. Hesitantly, he rolls his hips against the mattress and immediately hisses and stops as the sensitivity hits.

Did he just–

“Did you just come in your pants?” Henry asks.

kiss it better by lem0nademouth. E, 1.7k. Alex had a long day. Henry is fine with making it a long night.

has been rough (kinky!) by @lem0nademouth. E, 1.8k. Henry tries lingerie. Alex has...feelings.

the one in which everything is the same, but Alex has piercings and Henry has no idea by Poutini. E, 2k. Henry's brain goes momentarily offline when he clocks it - the hard, round metal of a barbell, positioned horizontally, piercing Alex’s tongue. He lets his tongue trace around each end, and he can feel the curve of Alex’s smile as he realizes what Henry has just discovered.

“Find something interesting, sweetheart?” he murmurs against Henry’s lips when they finally pull apart for air.

Give Me Your Confession by Mags (sparklepocalypse). E, 2k. He stares at the photo and makes an incoherent sound. He blinks. Blinks again. But the photo is still there, and in it, Henry, love of his life, man of his dreams, his heart’s greatest desire…

Henry is wearing a confident sneer and leather. Fucking. Pants.

in control of what i do (and i love the way you move) by countingto15. E, 2.2k. “You’ve been teasing me all night,” Henry says, one hand creeping down Alex’s side. “Dancing up against me.”

“That’s just how I move, corazón.” Henry’s hand reaches Alex’s hip, and Alex narrows his eyes mischievously. “It’s not all about you.”

Henry’s fingers tighten around Alex’s hip. “Don’t test me,” he whispers.

Biting his lip, Alex curls a strand of Henry’s hair around his finger.

“Hmm. Testing you’s kind of fun, though.”

warm from the inside out by @cricketnationrise. E, 2.2k. “Can I pull you away from what I’m sure is fascinating research for a bit of a break?”

“Mmm, depends on what kind of break,” Alex teases. “Tax law is pretty captivating.”

“I was thinking,” Henry begins slowly, smudging kisses from Alex’s shoulder and up his neck, “that the break could go something like this.”

Trick Rider by @orchidscript. T, 2.5k. Alex stepped up into Henry’s side, pressed the center of his hips to the rise of Henry’s denim-clad thigh. His light fingers trailed along the small of Henry’s back, chin perched on his shoulder as he watched the dance floor. “C’mon, baby. That could be us.”

“Love,” Henry whispered as he pressed back against his boyfriend. He wrapped an arm around Alex’s waist as he swiveled his hips, adding pressure. “That is us.”

a demonstrable fact, or Alex makes an assumption and Henry makes it all better by Poutini. E, 2.6k. Alex’s view becomes jumbled as Henry keeps his phone in one hand and leans far over, reaching to open his nightside table drawer. There’s a flash of David, curled up at the foot of the bed, a glimpse of a stack of books next to a lamp, fuzzy socks in the open drawer and -

an open box of condoms?

Uh.

Alex feels ill.

oh, honey, pray to me between the sheets by captainegg. E, 2.8k. Henry comes home after being away for three weeks and Alex is very eager to welcome him home properly.

I love it when you call by clottedcreamfudge. E, 3k. "I'm really fucking angry that other people are looking at your collar bones," Alex admits. "Tween girls and very confused boys everywhere are looking at them and swooning over them, and I'm annoyed about it." Henry's quiet again for a moment, and when he speaks his tone is low and private; it's his bedroom voice, the absolute fucker, and Alex is weak all over again.

"Alex, have you been swooning over my collar bones?" If by 'swooning', Henry means 'getting well on the way to a raging hard-on', the answer is 'absolutely,’ but Alex would rather swallow his own tongue than admit that.

a quick study by @whimsymanaged. E, 3k. Alex is new to bisexuality, and he turns to a friend for some guidance.

attention by @jackwolfes. E, 3.1k. “Hello, darling,” he replied, “Making friends?”

“Always,” he said, “Pedro’s nice.”

“And touchy.”

“Jealous?” 

Study Buddies by Jaistiel. E, 3.3k. "Take my cock in your mouth, Alex." The words were said breathlessly, as if Henry had never desired to say anything more and wasn't quite sure he was allowed. "But don't suck. Don't lick. Don't swallow. Just hold me on your tongue until I tell you otherwise."

You'll be Glowing, Chasing Shadows Away by Mags (sparklepocalypse). E, 3.3k. In the weeks leading up to Alex’s eighteenth birthday, he spends hours meticulously crafting a list of things that adults are legally permitted to do, and minors are not. It takes nearly twice as long to decide which items to sidebar, so he can narrow the list down to a manageable number. Finally, he’s left with four: 1. register to vote; 2. buy a lottery ticket; 3. get a tattoo; 4. go to the adult novelty shop.

(Or, five times Alex tries something he's seen on the internet, and one time he involves Henry.)

Rabbit Hole by TuppingLiberty. E, 3.6k. Some sort of non-famous au, don't worry, there's not really a plot.

Alex has been going down a research rabbit hole for hours and Henry comes to rescue him.

thank you for your service by Anonymous. E. 3.7k. “Yeah,” Alex said, “Yes-”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir,” he gasped, and Henry smiled, slow and laced with honey.

Alex has energy to burn. Henry knows how to help. Alex accepts it like a good boy should.

and i'll lay right down in my favorite place by mangotarts. E, 3.9k. “Speaking of your boyfriend, all you mentioned was that Alex was watching some show then made some off-hand comment but it wasn’t so off-hand if it’s what landed us here, was it?”

Henry clears his throat. “Um, yes, that’s right. He’s been obsessed with this one television series that’s set in seventeenth-century England. I watched a few episodes with him the other night and I will admit, the plot is rather captivating.” Henry glances at Bea and sees that he has all of her attention. He continues, nerves starting to settle into his body when he recalls what Alex said. “We were both immersed in an episode when he suddenly blurted out how good I’d look in the attire of that era.”

in which henry takes alex's supposed off-hand comment into consideration and alex is. well, alex is unprepared for the repercussions of his words.

Baby, You're Gonna Lose Your Own Game by @affectionatelyrs. E, 4k. Alex thinks he understands why people get stupid, impulsive tattoos like their ex’s name now if the sudden urge to etch the word darling onto his hip in permanent ink is anything to go by.

So, yeah, Alex supposes. Henry may still be maddening, but his mouth? His voice? Maybe it was always hot, actually, and the irritation he previously felt was just thinly veiled complete and utter attraction. That would check out. Hate has always been a multifaceted word, after all.

Or, Alex decides that he wants to fuck the British out of Henry while watching him speak at a gala

Body Count Baby! by orestespdf. E, 4.2k. “Okay,” Henry says eventually. “What do you want to know?”

Alex raises an eyebrow. A small smile plays on his lips. “Can I ask you anything?”

“Within reason, you hellion.”

Alex flops back down and grins, a new vigor running through him. He rubs his hands together, clearly thinking hard. When he finally looks back at Henry, his smile has turned mischievous. “Am I the best you’ve ever had? Like, has anyone been better than me?”

Henry and Alex talk about how many people they've been with.

that look in your blue eyes, it makes me lose my mind. by seafloor. E, 4.2k. Alex Claremont-Diaz, on discovering the wonder that is Henry Fox’s mouth. And what the man wants to do with it.

// an ode to Henry’s beautiful lips, basically.

Dirty Looks by clottedcreamfudge. E, 4.3k. "You… Alex. You're wearing glasses."

"That Oxford education hasn't failed you yet, Hen," Alex drawls, marking his place and closing the book so he can slide it onto the desk. He then has no choice but to look up from his chair, and what he sees when he does is -

Well. It's something.

Henry sees Alex in his glasses. He apparently has a few feelings about them.

Wrap Me Up, Unfold Me by @sparklepocalypse. E, 4.3k. After the Kensington confrontation, Henry gets on the plane with Alex.

(Or, Henry and Alex join the Mile High Club in filthy, spectacular fashion.)

sometimes we break so beautiful by Anonymous. E, 4.4k. It’s his own damn fault; Alex knows this.

It’s his fault for having everyone over for a small birthday party only to spend the evening whispering filthy things to Henry when no one was looking. (And when they were looking, because it’s his goddamn birthday and he can be as inappropriate with his boyfriend as he fucking wants to be.) It’s his fault for pushing Henry, for bratting off with antagonistic words like ‘what are you going to do about it—give me birthday spankings?’ and ‘do you actually think you could put me in my place? Because I’d like to see you try.’ It’s his fault for taunting Henry by suggestively licking the birthday candles, for doing anything he could possibly do to bring attention to his mouth, to his ass, to his fingers.

It's his fault that he’s now on their bed, lying on top of Henry, arms stretched out in front of him on either side of Henry's head and wrists tied to the headboard.

Talk About A Puppet Monarchy by largepeachicedtea. E, 4.5k. Alex has a proposition. Henry is all too happy to take it like a champ.

it's you (it's always been you) by @coffeecatsme. E, 4.7k. “You mean to tell me you named your vibrator after another man because you thought the pun would be funny?”

Alex names his vibrator after Han Solo and Henry gets jealous.

I just wanna tell you that you're really pretty (boy) by Anonymous. E, 4.8k. “I can’t believe you just called me weatherboy, oh my god-”

“And what would you prefer I called you?”

“Alex, ideally,” he muttered, and Henry laughed.

---

Henry discovers a new way to get under Alex’s skin, in the best possible way.

you paint dreamscapes on the wall by @littlemisskittentoes. E, 5.1k. “Fuck, H. What are you? A damn vampire?”

And Henry loved this too. The way the fire in Alex never quite went out, just smoldered down to embers. He didn’t think he’d ever quite get used to Alex’s wit, his sheer audacity to taunt and pick at him. But Henry was sure he never wanted to, anyway. He loved that that audacity snuck through the cracks of following orders, and waiting in positions. In between the begging, and Alex only ever finishing with permission dripping from Henry’s lips, it was still there. And Christ, if it wasn’t the single-most precious thing Henry had been gifted the honor of experiencing.

or, Alex is in his own head too much of the time. But Henry can always bring him back.

it doesn't make sense, but still by @smc-27. E, 5.2k. He’s not going to say that his desire to sleep with men exclusively in an anonymous capacity is because no man he’s ever slept with has lived up to the feeling he had with this one.

handprints & good grips. by seafloor. E, 5.7k. Henry and Alex have some fun on the way to a party.

a prince and a president by citydreaming. E, 5.8k. “Alex I’ve met your mum, lots of times in fact. You were there for most of them, remember?” Henry says, snapping Alex’s attention back to his phone.

Alex barks out a laugh at that because no, that’s not what happened at all.

“Baby that wasn’t my mom, that was the fucking President. And she met Prince Henry, not you, not my Henry.”

“Your Henry huh?”

“Yes, he has a dog with a stupid name, horrendous taste in pyjamas and the blandest collection of ties I’ve ever laid eyes on, but he’s aside from that he’s pretty fucking hot.”

OR: before the election is won, henry flies to texas to spend the week with alex.

Something New by AHistoricDistraction. E, 6.2k. After the first few times he bottoms for Henry, Alex has realized something new about himself. But before he's willing to bring it up to Henry, he needs to figure out what exactly it IS. So Alex does what he does best: research.

Gunpowder & Chocolate by Angelic_Disaster. E, 6.2k. Henry was used to spending his heats alone, he was more than content with his toys but then Alex (Alex, oh, Alex, always stupid, handsome Alex) had to come and ruin him.

Or, alternative summary: Henry is in heat, and Alex gets so horny through the phone that he gets on the first plane towards the U.K. to fuck Henry into oblivion.

Feels Like Home by @indomitable-love. E, 6.4k. 'Henry takes David out into the garden while Alex tidies up in the kitchen, putting away the dishes still on the drying rack from the morning. He’s not turned the main light on. He’s just carefully putting things away by the dim spotlight. He doesn’t need the light – it’s like muscle memory, so easy and natural he could do it blindfolded, and it’s all so domestic it makes Henry’s heart leap and turn in ways he didn’t know it could.'

making the headlines by @stardisnight, @athousandrooms, @villiageidiot. E, 6.5k. For no other reason than sheer boredom, Alex decides to set up a Google alert for the exact phrase "HRH Prince Henry." When Henry asks why, he quite literally cannot come up with a reason for the decision. He just… wants to.

Also: five times Alex overreacted to a Google alert (and one time Henry did)

it's a scene (and we're out here in plain sight) by @annnesbonny. E, 7.3k. "I don’t want us to be in the press for anything other than how good I am at polo, and how charming you look in that shirt.”

Henry just wants the Fifth Annual Okonjo Foundation Polo Match to run smoothly, but that's harder than it seems.

snakeskin. by seafloor. E, 7.3k. Henry Fox, on embracing his softness, overcoming familial abuse, and being unapologetically queer.

get fucked (or die trying) by @rmd-writes. E, 7.5k. Alex has a paper to write, but he's been procrastinating. When Henry leaves the house to give him space to actually write the damn thing – distraction free – Alex learns the true meaning of procrastination.

jump in with your heart first by @dumbpeachjuice. E, 7.5k. Pez sets it up. Some guy from work, he says. Gorgeous, too smart for his own good, a mouth that will get him into trouble.

Henry raises an eyebrow.

“Whatever you’re thinking,” Pez sings, wearing a smirk, “the answer is yes.”

The Key to My Body series by Mags (sparklepocalypse). E, 8.2k. 

It started with a Red, White & Royal Blue rimming fic, that expanded to a sex marathon... that expanded to include a second rimming fic... because Henry and Alex are never going to not be completely into one another and willing to do all the things sexually.

you handle it beautifully by @hypnostheory. E, 9.7k. “And I may have an idea for the libido problem too.”

Henry sighs. “I don’t think this has risen to the level of therapy just because I can’t get hard.”

“First off, nothing has to rise to the level of therapy, there’s no threshold for misery,” Alex says, parroting the words his therapist has told him about half a million times. “But no, I wasn’t thinking about therapy.” Henry raises a brow. “I was thinking we try party drugs.”

Alex, discovering Henry is having a hard time getting out of his head enough to enjoy sex, has a clear solution: recreational drug use! While on the road to self-discovery and self-actualization, Henry surprises Alex more than once.

(3 times Henry surprised Alex + 1 time Alex shocked him right back)

five times alex and henry tried something kinky (and one time they didn't) by @omgcmere. E, 10k. Alex knew Henry loved his stupid fucking dirty talk, but if he were pressed to admit it, he loved it too, especially knowing that they were doing something they very much weren't supposed to—and that even though it wouldn't be the same scandal it once was, it would still be a fucking shock to someone's delicate sensibilities and most likely get them in a lot of trouble.

What Alex loved most was that Henry got off on this shit as much as he did, too.

OR

five times Alex and Henry tried something kinky, and one time they didn't

this type of love isn’t rational, it’s physical. by seafloor. E, 10k. Society collapsed in the early 1980s. The weather controls humanity, and the ruling class controls the people.

Amidst it all, two boys find time to meet up.

ocean waves. by seafloor. E, 10k. Henry Fox wakes up with a toothache one morning, and has a lot of feelings about certain things for days afterwards.

Wildest Dreams series by @myheartalivewrites. E, 13k. Once Alex has pulled out, Henry turns over to face him. He strokes the hair softly away from his face and Alex smiles at him.

“So… that happened again.”

Henry leans forward and kisses him on the forehead. “Indeed.”

There’s a sort of thoughtful pause, where Henry can see Alex working to pull together the right words. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you that… thirsty?”

“Oh, bugger off,” Henry says, but he’s laughing. It’s a fair description.

“No, but I mean it. You were like… urgent. It was hot.”

“It felt hot. I liked waking up like that. With you up against me, trying to have your way with me.”

Set in and around the Henry bonus chapter, this is a story about Henry and Alex’s hectic schedules, family appearances etc. pulling them apart, and about what starts to happen between them, in the quiet of night: their sleeping bodies turning to each other, finding their sweet spots and opening up. And Alex and Henry learning a lot about each other in the process

Twice the speed (of you and me) by myheartalive. E, 17k. “Hey. So, you know Pez?” Alex asks bluntly. No easy way into this, he’s decided.

Henry looks up from his phone, frowning. “My best mate?”

“Yeah, that one.”

Alex has an idea.

let him be soft (let him be mine) by @congee4lunch. E, 18k. “I’m always cute,” Alex kisses the mole on Henry’s cheekbone.

“Yeah? Does your work wife tell you that?” Henry grumbles.

“I don’t have a work wife,” Alex breathes out, smiling against his mouth. “Why need one when I got the real deal waiting at home for me,” He licks at the mole on Henry’s upper lip. “All pretty and mine for the taking?”

in which henry wants to be alex's wife, in so many words. alex wants all that and more. their relationship ebbs and flows.

the only thing on my mind series by HypnosTheory. E, 31k. Piercer!Alex teaches Henry about the inner workings of BDSM in mid-90s New York.

More Amour by surveycorpsjean. E, 45k. Alex discovers something in Henry's closet that changes everything.

I only tag an author once per post, but I'm still figuring out firstprince author handles. If you see one I may not know or find a broken link, please give me a heads up!

Master List of RWRB FirstPrince Recs

Master List of Recommendations

[cocteaucherry]

Gojo giving his f!partner his blindfold because she has a migraine 🥺

stop this is so cute 😭 I love it sm <33

these past weeks have been stressful for you, sure you weren't on the frontlines exorcizing curses but filing the paperwork that had come with eliminating them seemed to be your breaking point, Autumn; curses had been popping up left and right, and with that meant files of reports needed to be filed by the end of the week. Your eyebrows seemingly stuck in a permanent furrow as your pen scribbled into the dotted lines. When it was time to clock out, your boyfriend Satoru always made an appearance at your doorway at exactly 6:04, “Heyyyy!” his voice broke you out of your trance. “Hey,” you mumbled tiredly rubbing your eyes, you had the lights in your office dimmed due to the recurring pain that would strike behind your eyes.

“You okay? Kinda dark in here,” he said, switching the lights on which made you wince loudly, “ Oh God turn them off!” you exclaimed quite loudly as Satoru made quick work of switching them off immediately making his way over to you, “Hey, you okay?” he spoke softly, running a hand over your back. You let out a tired laugh as you stared up at him with tired eyes, “honestly no.” you said rubbing your fingers over your temples, even moving your eyes too much to set the pain off.

Even though Satoru Gojo seemed like an absolute ass he learned rather quickly to observe people, he observed the growing worry in your voice as the days passed on, the tiredness in your eyes, and the way your eyes would usually avoid bright lights. “Overdoing it huh?” he asked, continuing to massage your back.

“No choice if I wanna get these papers filed by the end of the week.. Everything is too much.. The writing, the lights..” you mumbled incoherently as Gojo continued to listen.

“y/n hold your head up for a minute.”

“Huh?” you asked, getting pulled from your trainwreck of thoughts, he repeated himself, his hands pulling as his blindfold, a peak of his snow-dusted lashes and eyebrows making an appearance, you nodded, sighing with an okay as you held your head up. He stepped behind and part of you wondered what he was planning.

All of a sudden you felt the draping of a soft cloth grace the bridge of your nose and then your sensitive eyes, he made a loose but secure knot. “How’s that feel?” he asked and by the tone of his voice you knew he was smiling, you couldn't help the smile that crept on your face as you responded. “Better.” Gojo grinned, placing a kiss on your forehead as he stepped back, “Great! Now m’lady shall we get home? I would love to enjoy the company of my girlfriend and her amazing cookies.”

You let out a giggle as you stood up, “Of course Satoru-” you were cut off as your hip hit the side of the desk which resulted in you letting out a groan, “Careful, kinda hard to see.” he said grabbing your hand gently, “Guess you'll just have to hold onto me for the rest of the night.” he feigned playfully with an overdramatic pouty face.

“I guess I will Satoru.” You hummed gripping his hand tightly as he led you out of your office.

~ʚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ɞ~

[strawberry-lemonade-kisses]

"mei, my love" you called from the kitchen, hoping your husband would hear you so you didn't have to leave the comfort of your chair as you looked over bills for the week. It wasn't long until your husband came walking into the kitchen, your daughter strapped to his chest as he swayed gently.

"is everything okay?"

"lovely. I just had a question about this purchase on our credit card statement. I don't remember spending $127 on squishmallows. Do you?" The flush that overtook his usually stoic face told you that this was the right man, not your mischievous sons who seemed to be growing slicker with each thing they got away with. Gyomei hesitated answering, turning his attention to your 9 month old, caressing her round cheeks as she babbled and made incoherent noises. "Mei. You are a terrible liar and you'll spend all night trying to repent for it. Just tell me what it is so I can at least verify and know the boys didn't do this"

"it was me. Himiko really liked that one that Muichiro came home with. The small one with the horns. So then I had Muichiro help me look to see if they had bigger ones online so maybe she won't choke and ruin his with her spit and then I just got carried away. I bought everyone some. Mainly Himiko but everyone is getting at least one" there was a shy smile on his face as he smoothed down her Tufts of brown hair, matching his own, his little twin. You couldn't be mad at the generosity of your husband. He was known to spoil the kids, they knew to go to Gyomei rather than you because he was more than happy to give them what they wanted.

"okay, this purchase was made last week, right?" Gyomei nodded. "alright. In the future could you give me a heads-up on purchases like this? I was not expecting this when going through the bills and it threw me off. Please and thank you" although Gyomei was the breadwinner, working as an executive in the demon slayer corps, he trusted you to handle finances as receiving bills in braille were usually incorrect and he got tired of fighting with the companies. You weren't right fisted, you didn't think, but things needed to be tracked. Internet has opened a new door to crime and you didn't want your family to be effected.

"of course, my apologies. Thank you for your diligence. Did you account for the 'surprise' later this week?" You looked over the notebook where you kept track of the bills and other expenses.

"no, thank you for reminding me. I completely forgot about it." gyomei smiled before leaving you to your work letting you scribble down new information, highlighting it and the expected costs around it. Dog

A/N - Gyomei is obssessed with squishmallows and no one can correct me on this. I do not take criticism

[itsmealaiah]

Our Little Family

Bill's POV: 

"God" I mumble, stepping into the house. Today was exhausting, nothing went right, the band couldn't do anything. I set my keys down, looking at Y/n.

"Hey love" I say, kissing her forehead gently. "What're you making?" 

"Just some pasta, I don't have the energy for anything extravagant tonight hon" She sighs, pouring in milk

"Dada!" Our toddler shrieks, running over to me. "Hi baby!" I coo, picking her up. "How's my favorite little munchkin?" I tickle her and set her down. "I'm going to get changed honey, be right back" I boop her nose.

I walk into mine and y/n's bedroom, getting changed into more comforting clothes. I grab some of Aria's toys and head back downstairs.

"Pasta's almost ready" I hear y/n call, turning to me. Aria seems to be drawing at her little table, scribbling intensely on a piece of paper. 

"what are you working on, darling?" I take a peek, putting her toys in her playpen. She doesn't show me, thrusting the paper away. "secret" she babbles, and I laugh. "Alrighty then"

"Dinner!" Y/n says to Aria, picking her up and placing her into her high chair. She places some pasta on her tray, and Aria eats it in a messy fashion, face and bib covered in stray pieces of pasta. I grab the pot and scoop the pasta onto my plate, savoring the delicious taste. I groan, eyes opening widely. "Good right?" Y/n says softly, sitting next to me, rubbing my arm gently. 

"How do you always make the most simple things in this world so good?" I say with a mouthful of pasta. She laughs. I love her smile, it lights up my entire world, seeing her happy. "Just love" she beams. I hear incoherent sentences coming from Aria, signaling she must be done. I go to release her from the chair, cleaning her up with a napkin, carrying her over to her playpen. 

"Can I see what you were drawing now?" I ask, curious. She nods eagerly, picking up the paper. It shows three figures, holding hands. Our family. My heart begins to swell with love. "Oh angel, I adore it, you did so well" Y/n finishes putting the dishes in the sink and walks over to the two of us. She nearly tears up, holding the paper delicately in her hands. "Aria, you are the best artist in this family" She swoons. I smile and hug her, kissing her on the lips. Aria gags, as if to say "gross" at our actions. "Does our love make you disgusted?" I gasped playfully, going to tickle her again. "No!" She shrieks, trying to run in the small playpen. Y/n laughs and smiles while we do so "I love you bill" She whispers. "I love you too"

[thevoidscreams]

I seem to be on a roll with the iron boys

Female reader. Tied to ride with Perturabo. The details are yours to fill out :3c

Day 15

Ah to be Perts little cum dump

Pairing: Perturabo x Reader

Warnings: Being tied to your partner, multiple creampies.

On the whole, it wasn't the most uncomfortable position I'd ever been in.Perturabo was busy working on something new for the next campaign he was going to be away for.

“It should only be a few weeks.” He'd told me, but I'd still miss my big iron man.

I loved my husband with all my heart and the campaign, though his duty, was going to throw a wrench in your family starting plans.

So Perturabo, being the genius he was, came up with a solution so we could both get as much quality time together as was possible.

His left hand held my hip as the right worked on blueprints and scribbled notes.

He lifted my body with ease and let my own weight spear me back on his cock as he grumbled something under his breath. I gasped and clutched at the chains that went around his broad neck.

He didn't even seem to notice my body weight at all.

He'd do that every so often. Use my body as a convenient flesh light before returning to work.

After a minute of grumbling incoherent nonsense he set his stylus down and grabbed my hips with both hands, he stood and leaned over the desk. His hips thrusting against mine as he fucked me properly. Grunting and growling as he slid the thin sheets of paper aside to keep them from possibly getting cum on them.

He'd had to restart a page because of that.

The work bench shook under the force of his thrusts and every movement drew a loud whorish moan from my mouth. My eyes rolled back and I came hard. It was glorious after two hours of near constant edging.

I assume he'd grown frustrated as well, needing proper release.

He came with a heavy sighed and held my hips down, pumping his seed straight into my womb and I mewled softly with each pulse of his thick cock.

When he was done he sat back down, working on his blueprints again.

There was a knock at the door and Perturabo snarled.

“What?” He barked loud enough for whoever was on the other side to hear.

“Father. You were to convene with your consul about the upcoming siege.”

Forrix returned, his voice even and tempered.

Perturabo set this stylus aside.

“I am busy today, I will convene with them later.”

Forrix stood for a moment perplexed but did not argue.

“Very well. I will inform them.”

His heavy steps echoed down the hall as he walked off.

Perturabo took up his stylus again. Laying down perfectly straight lines.

It was like watching an artist at work. But his art was war.

He took my hip in his hand again, lifting me and letting me drop. His cock hadn't softened at all, even after his last orgasm.

“I love you Perturabo.” I nuzzled him as he lifted my body again and he grunted.

Kissing my temple but not taking his eyes off the page.

“Once I am done here we are going back to our chambers and I'm going to fuck you until dawn tomorrow.”

I clenched around him at his words excited and desirous of that.

“I look forward to it, my love.”

He nodded.

“You wanted a child before too long. You will have one when I am through with you.”

His hands came back to support me. They were lifting and pressing me back down faster and his grunts filled the workshop.

“You will be a good mother.” He spoke with assurance.

“My sons.. no, our sons and I will protect you. And you will be the mother of iron.”

Perturabo kissed the top of my head, his words ringing in my heart.

One hand came up to play with my chest and his calloused thumb stroked over a nipple. Making me moan again.

He came hard inside me and I followed after.

Perturabo's arms encircled my body, his face pressed into my hair. We stayed like that for a time. Blissful and quiet. “I love you.”

He breathed after a time and I melted on him. It was rare to see his softer side. But I loved it.

“Going soft on me Pert?” I chuckled. “I don't usually get an ‘I love you’ back.”

Perturabo grunted as stroked my side.

“When it is for the right person, love is a great source of strength.”

“Would you say I'm the right person?” I smiled and reached up to pull his head closer so I could nuzzle him once more.

“You're the only person.” He nearly whispered and I stopped, my heart racing as I felt the honesty in his words.

He picked his stylus back up and the moment was over for just then. But I wouldn't forget this. Not for a long time.

[nananarc]

The Death Of Me . 2023

After being revived successfully by Arasaka, Vân spend their time working as a special agent under Takemura's care. During this time, they met Lương - a high ranking officer of SovOil - and continues to frequently work together on collaborative missions of Arasaka and SovOil, especially around the East Asia and South East Asia countries.

However, it comes as no surprise that Vân's life as the walking advertisement of Arasaka's technological superiority is not breezy. Time and time again, she becomes the target of Arasaka's own inhumane experiments and their competitors' attempted sabotaging and kidnapping. She harbors her own escape, with the help of their powerful ally, Lương.

After one especially deadly mission, Vân ends up with a critical injury which has caused Lương to rush the plan forward for fear of her life. This incident is a wake up call for both Lương and Goro of the corporat shackle, albeit much more so for her fellow Vietnamese colleague who comes from a rich dynasty than her Japanese lover who was a Chiba-11 slum kid that is still under the debt of Arasaka.

Lương and Vân ran away together as soon as they are back on their feet, leaving the still hesitating Takemura behind. He has had his doubts ever since 2077 when he first met Vân, and they only grow stronger as he witness her sufferings in Mikoshi and during the years they work together afterwards. But it is still not enough for him to abandon his so-called duty and convictions, something about "cannot teach an old dog new tricks".

That is, until Arasaka decided to "revive" another Vân-borg but very altered this time to better suit their needs. They have the same smile, same posture. They calls him exactly they way Vân likes to coos into his ears on the rare mornings when Vân wakes up earlier than him. But something is wrong behind those eyes. Goro watches as a ghost occupying the shell of whom his heart belongs to being paraded around by Arasaka like a twisted puppet. He finally decided that this old dog needs to teach himself new tricks.

But, is it too late?

Stay tune on "Na's midnight random incoherent brainrot" to find out!

Note1 : Did I just retconed my own hc of my characters? Yes. Have I ever introduced publicly those hc? Nope. Do I actually have an idea on how things are gonna turn out after thing? I dont. Bite me lmao.

Note2: I wanna play with the idea of Death, Life, and Love. Which one is Death in this comic? Goro or Lương? As well as when is Death ends and Life begins, because after the beginning a new life post-Mikoshi, she is on the verge of death many times other than this incident.

Goro and Vân are the love of each other's lives, but she loves Lương as well in her own ways. Lương loves her too despite him not really recognizing it and it not being the same thing as hers. Are these loves romantic, sexual, platonic, or whatever else?

Sorry haha the brainrot is just INTENSE today so i scribbled all of this down in just a few hours, idk if everything makes sense.

[map0fthes0ul7]

Heartbeats in the halls of academia.

Pairing: Dilf!Ceo!Professor!Jeonghan x Student!reader (ft. Jeonghan's clueless daughter Yena) ((Jeonghan is a whole combo here as y'all can see))

Warnings: Kinda angsty, but they get their happy ending, so hey, that's great!

Word count: 5407

Synopsis: Good ol' forbidden romance between Professor Jeonghan and his student y/n.

Author's note: I hope this one is also going to do well.

The towering figure of Yoon Jeonghan loomed at the front of the lecture hall, his presence commanding the undivided attention of every student seated before him. At 44, the CEO of Yoon Technologies had built an empire on innovation and foresight, and his reputation as a strict yet fair professor at the local university was nothing short of illustrious. With a keen eye that missed no detail and a wit that kept even the most brilliant minds on their toes, Professor Yoon had become a pillar of both the academic and business worlds.

As he lectured on the complexities of quantum mechanics, his voice reverberated through the hall, each word enunciated with knowledge and authority. He adorned a tailored suit, the dark fabric contrasting against his youthfully styled silver hair, his persona exuding a magnetic allure that was not lost on the students.

In the second row sat y/n, a passionate science student whose thoughts often drifted to realms beyond the subject at hand—specifically, to the man who stood just meters away. Y/n's pen poised above the notebook, the equations and theories interspersed with tiny scribbles and incoherent notes that betrayed a distracted mind. Though y/n was introverted, preferring the solace of books and music to the adventures that university life offered, there was one adventure that the heart seemed all too keen to embark upon—a dangerous dalliance with the professor.

Beside y/n, Yena's bright laughter broke the silence that had momentarily engulfed their small corner of the room. Yoon Yena, with her vivacious smile and inexplicable energy, was the image of collegiate exuberance. She was the only child of Jeonghan and the dearest friend y/n had at the university, their bond forged through shared interests and a love for science.

But it was a love of another manner that had y/n's thoughts in turmoil. Unbeknownst to cheerful Yena, y/n harbored a secret adoration for her father, a sentiment that flooded y/n with guilt and longing in equal measure.

As the bell signaled the end of the lecture, the students began to pack up their belongings, the buzz of excited chatter filling the air. Yena leaned over to y/n, her eyes glistening with plans and propositions.

"Are you coming out with us tonight?" Yena's invitation was as predictable as it was well-intentioned.

With a gentle shake of the head, y/n deflected, "I've got a lot on my plate. Maybe next time.

Yena pouted, playful but understanding. "You work too hard, y/n. You should live a little," she teased before bounding off to catch up with a group of her other friends.

Y/n was left alone as the last of the students tricked out of the lecture hall. Alone, that is, except for the man still standing at the front. With the hall emptied, Professor Yoon began to gather his own materials, his astute eyes catching y/n's lingering presence. An imperceptible silence stretched between them, filled only by the faint echo of Yena's laughter as it trailed off into the hallways.

"Is there something you didn't understand about the lecture?" Jeonghan queried, his tone a mix of concern and curiosity.

Mutely, y/n stood and approached the desk where he stood, clutching the notebook like a lifeline. Each step was measured, the heartbeat thundering in y/n's chest a stark contrast to the calm demeanor attempted to be displayed.

"Actually, Professor, I was wondering if you had any suggestions for extra reading. I find the subject fascinating," y/n admitted, looking up through lashes with a sincerity that was as indisputable as it was alluring to the older man.

A smile tugged at the corners of Jeonghan's lips. "I admire your dedication," he praised before writing down a list of books on a piece of paper and handing it over. As their fingertips brushed, an electric jolt of unspoken tension passed between them—an acknowledgement of something deeper than the exchange of scholarly advice.

"I appreciate it," y/n murmured, lingering for a moment too long, and then, with a final glance, turned to leave.

Jeonghan watched y/n's retreating figure, the rush of something forbidden stirring within him. It was a crossing of lines he was usually adept at maintaining, but the more he came to know y/n, the more difficult it became to uphold those barriers. He was acutely aware of the implications, of the ethics of his position. With a small shake of his head, he tried to dismiss the thoughts as mere weakness—at least until the next lecture.

~

A few days had passed since y/n had approached Jeonghan for extra reading material, and the tension in the air had not dissipated but rather intensified with every sidelong glance exchanged in the lecture hall. Y/n had delved into the recommended texts, each page offering both an insight into quantum mechanics and a connection to Jeonghan that provided a solace for the consuming thoughts.

Yet, the fantasies that played in y/n's mind were a dangerous escape from reality, with their tendrils looping ever tighter around a heart that shouldn't yearn so fervently for the forbidden. In the quiet of y/n's room, filled with stacks of books and soft music playing in the background, it was simple to imagine a different world; one where it wasn't wrong to want someone so unattainable.

Despite the internal conflict, y/n had excelled in the assignments, with Jeonghan's teachings echoing not just in the academic work, but in the daydreams that found their way onto the pages of a private journal.

~

One particularly late evening, deep in the embrace of the campus library's solitude, y/n realized a crucial textbook—a cornerstone of the upcoming thesis—was missing. It was a rare find, one usually kept in the professors' private collections. Without it, the research would be incomplete, an academic yearning so urgent that it nudged y/n towards an impulsive decision.

Remaining students were few as y/n made the way to Jeonghan's office, the silence interrupted only by the hesitant rhythm of y/n's steps. Reaching the closed door, y/n paused, the words 'Private' and 'Professor Yoon Jeonghan' neatly etched on the plaque. Stealing a breath to quell the rising nerves, y/n knocked softly.

The door creaked open, revealing Jeonghan in his sanctum, shrouded by the soft glow of his desk lamp, his attention undivided from the papers he was marking. He looked up, surprise evident in his features, replaced quickly by an accommodating warmth.

"y/n, what brings you here so late?" he inquired, motioning for y/n to enter.

"The book I need for my thesis isn’t in the library. I was wondering if you might have a copy I could borrow," y/n explained with a hopeful timbre.

A moment of contemplation passed over Jeonghan's face as he stood and walked to one of the many shelves lining the walls. With purposeful strides, he retrieved the desired tome and handed it to y/n with a gentle smile.

"Our little secret," he said softly, an undercurrent of playfulness in his voice that set y/n's heart racing.

As y/n reached out to take the book, their hands touched again, and this time, neither pulled away. Drawn by a force neither understood nor could articulate, they moved closer, a magnetic pull zeroing the space between them.

The first kiss came as a whisper against y/n's lips, soft but filled with the power of suppressed desire. It was a convergence of emotion, a silent confession of the feelings that swirled with reckless abandon in that confined space.

Professor and student, they knew the gravity of what they were doing, yet the kiss deepened, fueled by a hunger that had been waiting in the shadows of their professional façade. It was in that stolen moment, with the taste of the forbidden making the air thick with tension, that y/n and Jeonghan crossed a line from which there was no return.

Outside, the world continued unaware, stars peppering the night sky. Inside, two hearts wrestled with what it meant to be bound by society's rules yet led astray by the anarchy of love. It was only the beginning, the bursting forth of a story written in the quiet language of shared glances and unspoken promises, with consequences neither could predict nor fully comprehend.

~

In the aftermath of the kiss, the world seemed to stand still. Y/n clutched the treasured book against a chest that heaved with emotions too complex to untangle. Y/n and Jeonghan remained in the quiet cocoon of his office, the taste of their forbidden embrace lingering, an indelible mark on both their souls.

"Y/n," Jeonghan’s voice was a hushed murmur, torn between duty and desire. He stepped back, the space between them expanding like an unfathomable chasm. His eyes, usually so clear and confident, now swam with a conflicting storm. 

This was a line they could traverse only once. The kiss—a single brush of lips—had sealed a secret pact, a silent agreement to the flames that licked at the foundations of the world they knew.

"We should forget this happened," Jeonghan's statement was heavy with regret, but his stare held y/n with an intensity that belied his words. He could not un-write the moment any more than y/n could, and they both knew it.

Y/n nodded, though every fiber protested. "Yes, Professor," came the whisper, a futile attempt to sew closed the threads they had so daringly pulled loose. Y/n left the room then, the book a weighty token of a shift in the equilibrium that resonated with every step away from Jeonghan’s office.

~

In the following weeks, the tension was only mounted. Their interactions in class were laden with a newfound formality, every word and gesture measured with surgical precision. Students and faculty remained oblivious to the undercurrent that hummed beneath the surface, but y/n and Jeonghan were acutely aware. Each glance shared was a brush stroke adding detail to the clandestine picture they had accidentally begun to paint.

Yena, blissfully ignorant of the drama unfolding, continued to be the link between her father and y/n, a bridge that neither could avoid crossing. She commented innocently on how studious y/n was and how proud her father seemed of y/n's academic progress, unwittingly tightening the knot at the juncture where personal and professional lines blurred.

~

The university’s annual science fair arrived like a gusting wind, all excitement and fluttering papers, with lectures giving way to demonstrations and experiments. Y/n's project, deeply influenced by the recent nights spent traipsing through quantum theory, drew an impressed crowd which included both Yena and, inevitably, Jeonghan.

As y/n presented the findings, expertly explained the complex mechanisms at play, a nervous energy coursed through veins. Jeonghan was there, a silent sentinel whose gaze bore into y/n with an intensity that was difficult to ignore. With each accomplishment that shone in y/n's eyes, Jeonghan's pride was matched by the quiet terror of the mounting bond forming between mentor and student, one he could neither publicly acknowledge nor tear his eyes from.

Yena clapped the loudest when the presentation ended, her cheers carrying a genuine love and pride for y/n. She threw arms around her friend in a congratulatory hug, seemingly deaf to the irregular tempo of y/n's heart—a rhythm that danced uneasily to a melody that spelled out jeopardy in haunting notes.

It was later that day, when the crowds had thinned and the buzz had dulled to a background hum, that Jeonghan approached y/n under the guise of discussing the project further. Yena, ever the social butterfly, had been whisked away by classmates, leaving them in a rare pocket of tranquility amidst the chaos.

"Your understanding of the subject is remarkable," Jeonghan said, his voice low, a treacherous vibrato beneath the compliment.

"Thank you, sir. Your guidance has been invaluable," y/n replied, acutely aware of the double entendre that laced their words.

Their eyes met, and in them, the reflections of that night in Jeonghan's office was a moment frozen in time, pulsing with life unto its own. They spoke of the project at length but danced around the conversation they truly wanted to have—a dangerous tango of words.

The fair wound down, and the sun dipped low, casting an orange glow over the campus grounds. Jeonghan and y/n wandered aimlessly, caught in the gravity of each other's company. The quiet became a living, breathing entity between them—one that whispered the truths they could not voice but felt with a fervor that neither logic nor ethics could silence.

~

As autumn bled into winter, the campus transformed under a blanket of white. Each flake of snow that settled on the university echoed the silent, frozen sentiment that hung between Professor Yoon Jeonghan and y/n. The secret of their singular kiss was guarded behind the somber walls of professionalism and duty, yet it simmered beneath the ice, yearning for the thaw of admittance.

Y/n navigated the semester with the dual burden of advancing academic ambitions and the weighty secret shared with Jeonghan. The more entrenched y/n became in the scientific exploration, the deeper the mental connection wove its tendrils through thoughts and motives, linking every discovery back to the man who was both mentor and forbidden infatuation.

The precarious balance of their interactions came under quiet scrutiny through the occasional curious glance from peers or the inadvertent, lingering handshake at the end of an earnest academic debate. Yet no concrete suspicion surfaced, their careful orchestration of exchanges nothing if not masterful. To the world, y/n was Jeonghan's most promising student, nothing more, and their determination to maintain that facade grew even as the hidden truth of their affection pulled them together like the unseen forces they so often discussed in lectures.

The approaching break brought a bittersweet solace, a respite from the constant need to conceal their attraction within the confines of the university. Yet, the absence only served to magnify the unresolved tension, to stretch the silence until it sang with a sweet, near unbearable pitch.

As the last of y/n's finals were submitted and the student body dissipated, the quiet of the campus became a reminder of that electric moment in Jeonghan's office, raising questions that thrummed in y/n's pulse.

~

During the winter break, y/n stayed on campus, lost in the research and theories that did little to distract from thoughts of Jeonghan. The resounding hollowness of the hallways echoed a sense of emptiness that y/n couldn't shake.

Yena, in her usual effervescent manner, had taken a trip abroad, her messages arriving as bursts of joy and snatches of escapades, a contrast to the solemnity that y/n found in books and quiet contemplation. In her absence, the link between y/n and Jeonghan seemed to grow even more tenuous, a frayed connection that was at once a source of agony and comfort.

Y/n's solitude was broken one late evening when a soft knock at the dorm door reverberated through the stillness. A glance through the peephole revealed a sight that caused y/n's heart to cease before thundering against ribs: Jeonghan, adorned in a nondescript coat, a cautious hesitance etched into his dignified features.

Opening the door, y/n found the ability to speak had fled, leaving a silence that Jeonghan stepped into with a careful poise, his presence in the small space nothing short of overwhelming.

"I wanted to check on you," he started, his words tightrope walkers navigating the dangerous height of their implications. "You shouldn't be alone over the holidays, y/n."

The concern in his voice was genuine, but it unfurled into the room like smoke, clouding the boundaries they had painstakingly erected. Y/n could only nod, the familiar guilt twining anew with the persistent want that had no rightful place amongst the ethics of their association.

Jeonghan didn't move to leave, nor did y/n close the door, their mutual hesitation a dance they both led. It was Jeonghan who broke first, his hand reaching out to touch y/n's, a contact that exceeded caution and sparked the return of all the emotions they had tried to suppress.

"Perhaps I should go," he whispered, though neither moved.

"Perhaps," y/n mirrored, the admission laden with the things that couldn't be said.

In the end, Jeonghan did leave, but the ghost of his touch lingered, a testament to the crumbling facade that was no longer resilient in the absence of prying eyes.

~

Classes resumed and the new semester began with a fresh snowfall, a reflective canvas upon which their continued charade could be etched. Y/n tackled studies with a renewed fervor, if only as an attempt to barricade thoughts of Jeonghan behind walls of formulae and hypotheses.

Their office encounters were strictly scheduled, terse discussions of academic progress marked by the rigid adherence to professionalism. The warmth that had once highlighted their interactions now lost to a cold formality, necessary for their survival within the confines of the institution.

~

A chance meeting in the library offered an illusion of normalcy. Y/n was buried in research when Jeonghan approached, a slight tilt to his lips that didn't quite qualify as a smile.

"I see you're still spending your evenings with quantum theories," he commented, a careful neutrality underpinning his tone.

"It's captivating," y/n returned, equally guarded. "There's so much yet to be understood."

"Indeed," Jeonghan murmured, his eyes holding y/n's for a moment too revealing. "Keep up the good work, y/n."

The exchange was routine to any onlooker, but laden with the silent acknowledgment of the growing space between them—a void filled with unsaid words and unacknowledged yearning.

Yet as the semester marched on, the ice around them began to grow thinner. Smiles became more frequent, shared laughter erupted over shared in-jokes about scientific anomalies, and cautious optimism breathed life into their covert looks. The escalating risk of their connection weighed heavily upon them, a dangerous game played on the edge of discovery.

~

Y/n's research led to a conference, a gathering of minds where y/n's work, under Jeonghan's guidance, would be presented. The excitement was tinged with trepidation—not over the showcase of the project, but the proximity to Jeonghan it would entail.

They traveled separately, a necessary precaution, meeting only at the conference hall amongst a sea of attendees. Y/n's presentation was met with accolades, a shining moment that Yena, who had rejoined campus life with gusto, witnessed firsthand. She beamed with pride, a supportive anchor not just for y/n, but unexpectedly, for her father as well.

The final evening of the conference saw attendees at a formal dinner. Y/n sat at a table with Yena and other students, Jeonghan at the head table, both keenly aware of each other's presence.

As the evening drew on, y/n stepped out onto a balcony for air, the stars overhead a vast, undisturbed witness. The door behind creaked open, and without needing to look, y/n knew it was Jeonghan who stepped out to join.

They stood side by side in silence, looking out into the darkness. Then, in a voice barely audible over the whispering wind, Jeonghan spoke—the words cutting through the months of unspoken truths and restrained feelings.

"I can't do this anymore," he confessed, his profile outlined by the ambient light. "Pretending that I don't—"

He stopped, the silence swallowing the rest, the implications hanging suspended in the air around them. Y/n turned to face him, the turbulence of emotions clear in y/n's gaze.

"I know," y/n replied, the admission a relief as it tore through the last barrier of denial.

They didn't touch, didn't step closer, but in that moment, the thaw occurred, and the unyielding frost that had encased their desires began to melt. It wasn't a resolution, nor an answer to the labyrinth of moral and professional repercussions, but an acknowledgment of the powerful, undeniable reality of their connection.

~

The return to campus was fraught with a new tension, an awareness that the thread they had been tugging on was near its breaking point—a point of decision that loomed inevitable on the horizon of their intertwined journey.

As spring arrived, the university campus bloomed with vibrant life, a stark contrast to the inner turmoil that churned within y/n. Jeonghan's confession at the conference had not been forgotten, it's echo a constant undercurrent to every lecture attended, every paper graded, every sidelong glance they shared. The thread that connected them—an intangible, delicate thing—stretched taut with the pressure of unfulfilled desires and unspoken words.

Every brush of their fingers as y/n handed in assignments, every shared look laden with meaning, sent vibrations along that ever-tensing thread. It was souring the purity of their academic relationship, tinting what should have been a professional mentorship with hues of something far deeper and more perilous.

Yena, as cheerful and oblivious as ever, spoke excitedly of future plans: graduation on the horizon, job prospects, and the pride she felt for her father and her best friend, y/n. She remained the picture of ignorance to the drama unfolding so close to her, unaware of how perilously close y/n and her father were to crossing a line that could not be uncrossed.

~

It was a late night in the laboratory, y/n absorbed in research, when the thread finally snapped. Jeonghan entered unexpectedly, the click of the door a jarring sound in the quiet. Their eyes met in an immediate and profound recognition of the end of all their self-imposed restraints.

"I can't do this," Jeonghan spoke first, his voice strained with the weight of months of confinement and hidden truth. "I can’t keep pretending that I don't feel anything for you. It’s affecting everything I do."

Y/n's research papers fluttered to the floor as if mirroring the collapsing pretenses between them. "I don't want to pretend either," y/n confessed, the heart's unguarded honesty breaking free at last.

Stepping closer, they abandoned caution as Jeonghan reached out to gently cradle y/n's face. The chemistry they had dissected abstractly now manifested physically, irrefutable and demanding to be acknowledged.

Their kiss, unlike the first, was not a question but an answer—vehement, deep, and brimming with the months of tension that had built up between them. It spoke of longing, of the undeniable attraction they’d battled against, and the collective resignation to the torrent of emotions they could no longer contain.

It was the beginning of something neither could fully understand nor control, a tale of two souls intertwined in a dance as old as time. But entwined with their newfound freedom was the weight of the myriad of complications they were set to face.

Reality crashed over them like a cascading wave as soon as they parted—the comprehension of their actions rippling through each with chilling sobriety. Together, they'd breached the sanctity of the student-teacher bond, ventured into the realm of the heart where logic had no domain.

"There will be consequences," Jeonghan said after a moment, the professor in him re-gaining the upper hand despite the lingering sensation of y/n’s lips. "We have too much to lose."

"And what if I think it's worth it?" y/n challenged, despair and hopelessness colliding with the flickering embers of what had just ignited between them.

Jeonghan's expression softened, his hand still resting on y/n's cheek. "Then I fear for what may come. For us, for Yena... everything could come crashing down."

They stood amongst the scattered papers, a symbol of the order they had thrown to the wind. The impact of their decision began to take shape—rumors, disciplinary actions, and the shattering of a young woman's familial image were all at stake.

Y/n withdrew from Jeonghan's touch, the weight of guilt enveloping the brief warmth. "We need to think this through. We can't... not without considering all the angles."

The acknowledgment of their reality, harsh and unyielding, settled between them as they parted that night—their relationship irrevocably altered, the path ahead fraught with uncertainty.

~

In the days that followed, the silhouette of normality was a guise they both donned with reluctance. Jeonghan returned to his authoritative role with an impenetrable facade, y/n to the studious demeanor that had been a constant before everything changed.

Yet the transparency of their previous interactions was forever clouded; every word, every assessment was now a labyrinthine exercise in extreme caution, each hyper-aware of any sign that might reveal their secret.

Yena, ever the doting daughter, and the loyal friend, began to notice a shift—not in her father, nor in y/n, but in the air that seemed to crackle with an energy around them. Her intuition nagged at her, whispering of changes she could not place nor fathom.

"What's going on with you and dad?" she asked y/n one evening, her gaze searching for some elusive truth.

"It's just the pressure of the semester," y/n deflected, the lie a bitter taste on the tongue. "We're both feeling it."

In her heart, y/n knew the time was slipping away, that the truth was a beast that would not stay caged indefinitely. This secret shared was a burden too heavy, a truth too poignant to remain hidden.

As y/n watched the last vestiges of daylight wane from the sky, there was an understanding that the story they had begun was far from over. The pages yet to be written loomed large and unpredictable, but it was clear that the journey they faced was one neither Jeonghan nor y/n could travel alone.

~

As the semester waned, the tension between Jeonghan and y/n had become almost palpable, a volatile cocktail of fear and longing that hovered over their every interaction. They moved through the motions of their respective roles with a deliberate caution that belied the undercurrent of suppressed emotions churning beneath the surface.

In the quiet confines of the library, y/n poured over textbooks, the lines and equations blurring as the thoughts circled back relentlessly to Jeonghan and the looming inevitability of their secret being exposed. It was a mental tightrope walk that left little room for error, the risk of condemnation and ruin growing with each stolen moment.

Meanwhile, Jeonghan, ensconced in his office and the rigorous demands of his CEO duties, found himself waging a constant battle between duty and the whispers of his heart. The sight of y/n's handwriting on a submitted paper could elicit a storm within him that took monumental effort to quell.

The rumors that were once mere shadows in the corridors of the university began to take shape, whispers that grew bolder with each passing day. Though no clear evidence presented itself, the growing sense of unease was undeniable. Their relationship, though rigorously guarded, emitted a frequency that seemed to invite scrutiny from those with a watchful eye.

Yena’s intuition pushed her to observe more closely, the daughter’s connection to her father serving as a conduit for her suspicions. Jeonghan's name, when coupled with y/n's in conversation, elicited a reaction she couldn't ignore—a sudden tightness around the eyes, a fractional delay in response. These were puzzle pieces she couldn't quite fit together, but her determination to understand the picture they formed intensified.

Y/n knew something had to give. The reality of the situation was a crossroads approaching at breakneck speed, an intersection that promised collision.

~

Y/n sat in the small cafe off campus that had become a refuge, the murmur of outside life a welcome intrusion to the cocoon of silence. As assignments were graded and lecture notes revised, the bell above the door chimed, signaling a new patron's arrival. With a hesitant glance upward, y/n's heart staggered as Yena breezed in, her eyes scanning the room until they locked onto y/n.

They greeted each other, but the usual ease was strained, a visible tension threading its way through the exchange. As Yena sat down, her convivial facade slowly crumbled, revealing a resolve that was as surprising as it was concerning.

"We need to talk," Yena stated, the gravity in her voice anchoring the moment in seriousness. "About you and my dad."

A cold dread settled over y/n, the words echoing like a death knell to the carefully constructed denial that had been clung to for far too long.

"There's nothing to talk about, Yena," y/n managed, though the conviction fell flat, a kite without wind.

But Yena persisted, her gaze unyielding. "I know there's something you're not telling me. And it's killing me not knowing."

Words failed y/n then, the truth a barricade too high and thick to cross. Yet the look in Yena's eyes pulled at something deep within, a plea for honesty that was as raw as it was heartrending.

~

In the wake of Yena's confrontation, the dominoes of their secret began to totter, threatening to tumble into chaos. Heavy-hearted and knowing that the time had come, y/n sought Jeonghan out, the need to discuss the next step a fire that refused to be doused.

Jeonghan's office stood as a symbol of their forbidden connection, the site of their passion, of furtive kisses and the echoing silence of unspoken vows. As y/n stepped in, it felt like crossing into another realm, a place where the walls whispered their memories back to them.

"We need to decide what we're doing," y/n began, the urgency of the situation straining the voice.

Jeonghan looked up, his features etched with lines of a silent struggle. "The risk is becoming too great," he admitted, a resignation sweeping through his words.

The conversation that ensued was as difficult as it was necessary, a navigation through the murky waters of ethics, emotions, and consequences. The affection that had blossomed was undeniable, the connection strong, but it was tethered to a reality they could no longer ignore.

They deliberated on coming clean, on facing the storm together, but the image of Yena—happy, bright, and unaware—loomed between them like a specter of potential disaster.

~

Days later, as spring flowers burgeoned outside, an air of somber finality settled within the hallowed halls of the university. Y/n and Jeonghan made the decision to step into the light, to confront the potential consequences head-on, rather than continue in the shadows.

They met with the university board, an assembly of faces stern and inquisitive, disclosing the truth of their relationship in stark terms. The ripple of shock and murmuring that followed their confession painted a clear image of the repercussions to come.

As the process of institutional inquiry commenced, Yena was told, the news delivered in gentle but unwavering honesty. Her world, once so stable and sure, fractured under the weight of the revelation. Heartache and betrayal warred within her as she grappled to reconcile the father and friend she knew with the personas they had just shattered.

~

The inquiry was a tempestuous ordeal—an external evaluation driving nails into the framework of their careers and personal lives. Jeonghan faced the repercussions within the academic sphere, his role as a professor brought into question, while his standing as CEO wavered under the industry's scrutinizing gaze.

Y/n endured the piercing looks and hushed whispers of fellow students, the isolation a stark contrast to the prior camaraderie. Yet, the heaviest burden bore down in the form of Yena's hurt—a chasm that yawned wide and uncertain in the landscape of their friendship.

Amidst the fallout, Jeonghan and y/n found solace in their shared resolve. The decision to bring their relationship to light, though devastating in its wake, was a testament to the sincerity of their feelings—a declaration that, despite the cost, bore a haunting beauty amidst the ruins.

~

The proceedings concluded with Jeonghan stepping down from his university position, a move that quelled part of the raging storm. His influence at Yoon Technologies remained strong, salvaged by years of dedication and success that spoke louder than the whispers of scandal.

Y/n faced the disciplinary actions of the board, sanctions that would forever mark an academic record but could not extinguish the passion for the science that had brought them together in the first place.

In the aftermath, Yena's relationship with y/n and her father saw a tenuous beginning towards healing. It was a process fraught with pain and introspection, where forgiveness had to be measured against the sense of betrayal that lingered like a stubborn shadow.

The future remained an abstract notion, one that promised difficulty but was not devoid of hope. Within the quiet corners of their reality, Jeonghan and y/n nurtured the bond they had fought to preserve, a connection that spoke of resilience and quiet strength.

They emerged from the tempest changed—not unscathed, but perhaps wiser and certainly more aware of the preciousness of the love they carried with them into the unclear path ahead, a silent promise of resolution held tight in their joined hands.