#she gets up and goes to get him of course

[mrgoldmc26]

Yuna goes to School Part 1

Tags: Different sexual partners, blowjob, anal, creampie, lots of dirty talk, spanking, school sex, cum swallowing, facial, daddy kink and more...

Word Count: 7.9k

A/N: Hey, guys. Sorry for the long wait for another chapter. I hope you guys like this one. Decided to try something new, not only in terms on kinks, but also writing style. Wanted to make some words stand out (in terms of their meaning), so I made them bold just add that little extra umpf to it.

Also, no way near as many pics as in my other chapters, because I wanted to keep the theme of this chapter.

The following is a Fan Fiction and should be treated as such.

"Ten more days in this shithole, and I'm free forever." Yuna thought to herself.

Life as an idol wasn't easy, especially if you were still in school. There wasn't a single spot inside the school where Yuna could go without feeling someone looking at her. Because she had debuted with Itzy at such a young age, almost 3 years ago, it meant she was by far the most popular girl in the school, and with that came great responsibilities.

There was a lot of pressure on her at all times. She couldn't get caught lacking. Yuna had to look flawless at every moment. She also had to be extremely careful with what she said and did, or else all it took was one video out of context and her career would be over, just like that. But perhaps most importantly, just like any other student, her grades had to be top-notch. Netizens would destroy Yuna online if they found out she was just as dumb as the average BTS fan...

Unfortunately for Yuna, balancing idol life with school studies was starting to get increasingly more difficult, and with the final exam just around the corner, she knew she needed help.

Knowing this, Yuna decided to head over to the school library, where she luckily found the smartest student in the whole school. He was one of those prodigy kids...a black guy that came to Korea through one of those exchange student programs. Not only was he the smartest guy in the school, but he was also in her class, which meant that if there was anyone who could help her, it was him.

"Hey...do you mind if I sit here, next to you?"

The boy was very shy, and why wouldn't he be? Hottest girl in the school wanting to sit right next to you...a celebrity, an idol, a legend in the making, and a future icon of the business...it was perfectly normal for him to feel this way towards her, especially when she wanted to be right next to him.

He nodded very quietly, and Yuna sat down next to him.

"Can you help me study for the test? I really need it." She asked, giving him the eyes.

"Uhhmm, y-yeah...of course..."

Yuna almost burst out laughing with how much the poor boy was shaking, but she managed to hold it, and instead she just smiled at him.

The two started going over the potential exercises that could show up in the test, and it was going nicely for the first couple of minutes until Yuna decided to rest her hand on his thigh, and that's when she felt a large bulge in his pants. The guy was rock hard, just from being next to Yuna, and he shifted in his seat as soon as he felt her hand touch his boner.

"Uhmmm, sorry." Yuna said, immediately removing her hand.

The guy gulped down hard, hoping that she didn't feel how hard he was for her, but Yuna knew...Yuna knew and she wanted it...badly.

It was Yuna's biggest weakness...cocks. The bigger, the better. The more, the merrier. She couldn't help herself. Not ever since Ryujin opened her doors to this side of the universe, shortly after she turned 18, almost two months ago. Ever since the day that Ryujin invited a fan backstage after a show for a special "Meet & Greet" with both of them, Yuna couldn't think of anything else other than cocks. During classes, all she could think about was which guy she should pick to bring over to the bathroom and blow him during the intervals.

Yuna never would've guessed that this shy smart boy had a big cock, but she should've, given he was black.

As for him, he lost all composure once he felt her hand on his pants. After that, he could no longer help Yuna with studies...hell...he could barely string a sentence together...

"Do you want me to take care of that?"

"Huh?...what?!"

"C'mon, I know you want it."

"B-but...we are in the library."

"Chill, look around...there is barely anyone here, plus we are like in the most hidden corner of the library. We are not gonna get caught." Yuna said, getting off her chair and sliding to her knees.

She immediately started working on his pants, unbuttoning them and pulling them down to his ankles alongside his boxers.

"Yuna, are you sure? This is cra..fuckkkkkk"

His sentence died in his mouth as soon as Yuna took his whole length down her throat. She deepthroated his enormous black cock a few times before pulling back, and she already had multiple strings of spit dripping down her chin.

"Fuck, I love sucking big black cocks." She said, giving his shaft a few strokes before sliding her lips past his dick and taking him into her mouth once again.

The guy was in utter disbelief of how he managed to get into this situation in the first place, but he didn't care. He very well knew this was his only chance of fucking a K-Pop idol, and he wasn't going to waste it. He no longer cared if he got caught, and neither did Yuna.

He remained seated on the chair and let Yuna do all the work. The 18-year-old idol happily bobbed her head up and down on his big black cock and kept slurping away. The guy threw his head back as Yuna constantly choked herself on his dick.

"Yuna...I'm not going to last much longer."

Yuna smiled with his cock in her mouth and kept sucking his dick for a couple more seconds before releasing him with a loud pop in the practically empty school library.

"Good...then don't. Stand up, fuck my face, and cum down my throat." She said, holding his massive black cock with both of her hands and rapidly stroking it whilst sliding her tongue across his sensitive tip.

Every word that came out of the mouth of Itzy's maknae fueled his lust for her, and his shy barrier was rapidly cracking. He was eager to fulfill Yuna's request, and so he stood up, put his hands on each side of her face, and started smashing his cock into the back of Yuna's throat. Yuna proudly gagged around his black cock like the naughty student that she was and took it all the way down. Her school uniform was covered in drool in just a matter of seconds, but that didn't stop him from thrusting his hips and giving Yuna all of his cock.

Seeing Yuna on her knees with her mouth stuffed full of his brown cock only made him grow in confidence, and he decided to show her this by slapping the left cheek of her face with his right hand a few times, until it became red. Yuna was loving every single second of it, and she made sure to tell him by removing his hard dick from her mouth and slapping her face with it for a couple of seconds.

Yuna's efforts on his cock sent him to a point of no return, and he quickly grabbed hold of her hair and shoved his dick right back into her mouth. Yuna's eyes were wide open as she got caught by surprise, but she didn't mind it. She loved it, actually. Loved feeling his hard cock slide past her lips each time he went in and out of her mouth. Loved feeling his heavy balls hit her chin with each thrust. And she fucking loved when he eventually blew his load inside her mouth, sending multiple ropes to the back of Yuna's throat, filling it entirely.

She tried to swallow everything, but it was too much cum, even for someone like Yuna, and she had no other option but to spit half of his seed onto her uniform. It created a large stain that would be pretty difficult to hide, but that was the last thing on Yuna's mind right now...

"Fuck, I didn't know you had so much cum."

"Yeah, well...black men always cum a lot, you should know."

"True, but I don't think the cum I've sucked out of black dicks so far compares to yours."

"Didn't you turn 18 like a month ago or something?"

"I did, but I've got some experience already...Ryujin unnie is teaching me the ropes."

Yuna's reply made his cock twitch, and it only got harder when Yuna stood up and turned around. She gave him a brief smile over her shoulder before bending over and sliding down her soaked panties.

She shook her butt a little bit, as if she was begging him to slide his dick inside her.

"Yuna, what the fuck...I...I can't. It's still sensitive."

"But it's hard, and I want it. Don't you wanna fuck my tight pussy with that big cock?"

"You are crazy..."

"Crazy for cock, yes. Now shut up and fuck me. And don't you dare pull out. I want you to cum inside me."

There was no chance in hell that he was going to give up on this offer, and so he placed his hands on Yuna's waist and started teasing her by rubbing his hard dick between her pussy lips.

"Don't tease me, please. Put that dick inside me and fuck me hard."

"I need that huge cock inside me right now."

Cock was what she craved, and cock was what she got when the guy slowly slid his entire length into Yuna's cunt. Yuna was extremely tight, which was always going to be the case given how young she was, however, luckily for him, she was indeed very wet, and with the blowjob from earlier, it made his cock slip in and out of her Korean pussy not as difficult of a task as one might think.

He pumped her at a steady pace, not slow or fast. All he wanted was to feel her walls and the way they hugged big black cock perfectly, as if Yuna was born to take such a huge dick (which she definitely was).

The longer he fucked her, the more Yuna begged him to go harder, and once he did, she started moaning loudly. His reactions were insanely fast, and he quickly put his right hand over her mouth, preventing Yuna from revealing their location to the one or two people still inside the school library at that time.

"Are you fucking crazy? Do you wanna get caught?" He asked, removing his hand so she could answer.

"Sorry...Fuckkk, I can't help it. It's too good. Your cock is just so fucking perfect...It's much bigger than any other black cock I've taken so far."

"And no...I don't wanna get caught. All I want is your cum, so please...give it to me."

"Pull my hair and pump me full of cum. I wannabe your BBC slut."

With his hand back over her mouth and now a grip on her hair, he began fucking Yuna hard and rough. Her moans might've been muffled, but anyone who would come close to their proximity, could 100% hear the sound of Yuna's cheeks getting absolutely clapped and pounded with immense force...he did not hold back, whatsoever.

At that time, the library was nothing more than Yuna's sex chamber...a place for her to be fucked and ruined by a fellow classmate that had a ridiculously huge black cock.

Yuna took his cock like a pro and let him use her as his personal toy. A few seconds of rubbing her clit after putting her hand between her legs was all it took to make her cum on his cock, and once she did, her legs almost gave up. In fact, if not for him or the table that she was currently being bent over, Yuna would've collapsed to the ground. Instead, she was able to just remain there and take his big black cock over and over and over again, with her pussy being stretched to the absolute limit.

With fear that someone else might hear him, he didn't tell Yuna that he was close and instead kept hammering away at her pussy. He fucked her balls deep, and after a couple of more minutes of using Yuna as his personal cumslut, he unloaded inside her just like she asked.

"Oh my god, fuckkkk. It's so warm...I can feel your cock throbbing inside my pussy."

"I can't believe I just fucked a K-Pop idol inside the school..."

"It definitely won't be the last time. I can guarantee you that." Yuna replied, as the guy pulled out his cock and watched as his cum slowly leaked out of Yuna's pussy and ran down her thighs before falling onto the floor.

And she was right...it wasn't the last time. For the entirety of the next week leading up to the final exam, Yuna and him fucked her all over the school, in the most hidden of spaces. She took his cock everywhere...in her mouth, in her pussy and she even let him have her ass. Yuna let him use her as his personal cumdispenser. All that Yuna could think about was him and his huge black cock, that it actually caused a huge problem for her...she didn't study. She actually didn't study...not one bit. Yuna was fucked, and not in the good way.

The final exam was a disaster for Yuna. For the next two days after the exam, she prayed that it was enough to pass. When the day of receiving her grade arrived, her professor waited for the very last minute of the class to hand out the results. He had the exams on a stack on top of his table and told everyone to grab theirs and leave his classroom. Yuna was the very last one to grab hers because she feared the worst, and her professor confirmed her fears before Yuna even had the chance to pick up her exam and look at her grade.

"Shin Yuna...what happened?"

"Professor...I don't know..."

"It pains me to do this to you...to end your career, just because of a test..."

"Please, don't do this...this can't get out...I need a passing grade, or else it's all over...my dream of becoming an idol will end." She said, walking over to his side of the desk with the most pleading face she could pull.

"Yuna...I can't do anything for you. My hands are tied. I'm sorry."

"You can't, but...maybe I can do something for you..." Yuna said, slowly reaching over to his crotch with her hand.

"Yuna, what are you doing? I can't do this."

"Your dick says otherwise." She replied, feeling his cock already getting hard.

"I can't do this...I can't risk my job."

"Nobody is going to find out. Everyone has already left."

"It's just me, you, and your big cock." She added, felling him getting harder and harder with each rub.

"Yuna...fuckkkk."

"No...fuck...shit...I can't do it. I'm married."

"Oh, come on...I see the way you look at me when I'm in class. I know you want to fuck me." She said, as she stopped working on his pants and moved behind him to give him a massage on his shoulders.

"I see the way you arrive every day...stressed. Is your wife not doing the job, Mr. Professor?"

"Is she not draining those balls properly?" She doubled down, whispering in his ear.

"Don't you wanna fuck a hot, popular K-Pop idol?"

"Yuna, please don't do this...I can't cheat on my wife. We've been married for over 30 years."

"We met in this exact school. We are high-school sweethearts. She's the only woman I have ever been with."

"Well, time to add another one to the list, then..." Yuna said, lifting her school uniform and briefly flashing him her tits.

"Yuna, what the fuck!"

"C'mon, touch them. I know you want to."

Her teacher was unable to take his eyes off her small breasts, but he remained professional, and didn't reach out for them. In the end, it didn't really matter, because Yuna reached out to grab his right arm and placed his hand directly on her tits, forcing him to feel them.

"Yuna!!!"

"Shhhhhhhhhh." She said, by pressing her finger to his lips, forcing him to stay quiet.

"Here is what's going to happen..."

"You are going to pull out your cock, and I'm gonna suck it like the good little slut that I am."

"Afterwards, I'm going to let you use me as your anal slut and you're going to pound the shit out of my asshole until you paint my insides."

"And in return for giving you the best sex you will ever have, I want you to change my grade to A+."

"Do we have a deal...daddy?"

A hard cock in his pants combined with a handful of her tits plus the dirty talk...Yuna knew she had him on the palm of his hands, and he knew that too. It was physically impossible for him to resist Yuna and the chance to fuck one of the hottest K-Pop idols of all time, even though she was still only 18 years of age.

After a brief moment of silence and consideration, only three words left his mouth.

"Lock the door."

"Victory." Yuna thought to herself.

With a smile on her face, she turned around and did what she was told. After locking the door, she walked over back to him. She tried to lean in and kiss him, but he had other plans.

He spun Yuna around and pushed her against his desk, bending her over at a 90º angle. Her head was pressed sideways against the cold steel table, and despite wanting and needing this to happen, this wasn't in her bingo card.

"What are you doing, daddy?"

"I'm going to teach you a lesson."

"A lesson of what happens when cute little girls like you decide to behave like naughty dirty sluts." He added.

"Hmmm, well, you are my teacher, so...teach me. Teach me what happens to dirty sluts like me."

"You wanna know what happens, Yuna? They get punished, and that is what I'm going to do to you...I'm going to punish you for being a dirty slut."

"Hmmmm, okay...I like the sound of that. How are you going to do that?"

Her question went unanswered, with the professor opting to remain silent and let his actions speak for themselves. He grabbed her mini skirt and pulled it down slowly, watching her supple and round butt appear from under it, only made bigger and more inviting by her perfect wide hips.

"Pfffff...of course you're not wearing any panties...fucking slut..."

Yuna just smiled and waited for her punishment. In that position, Yuna thought she was in for a nice hard spanking coming from her professor, and her thoughts were confirmed when she saw him reach for a large wooden ruler on his desk, right next to where she was bent over.

With the 18-year-old folded in half over his table and her bare butt sticking out, he raised his right arm and started giving her some nice hard slaps across her buttcheeks, as a nice warm-up for what was about to go down.

"Slap me harder, daddy. I've been such a naughty student."

"Yeah...you have. Why did you stop studding? Your grades have fallen off a cliff this past couple of weeks." He responded, not only with his words, but also with a hard smack across her ass, leaving his handprint on her cheek.

"Fuckkk...I was too busy sucking cocks left, right, and center."

"You will not make it in this industry, Yuna. One day, people will find out how much of a slut you really are, and your career will be over."

"I don't care about the future...I care about the present...the now."

"I love being a naughty, dirty, slutty, cock hungry bitch. I love sucking cocks and getting fucked by guys with big dicks."

"And right now...I want that. I want you to punish me until you deem me worthy of your huge cock, daddy."

Lust had taken over Yuna's mind, and for her, this was no longer about her grades or her future. The only thing Yuna cared about was getting fucked and used by her teacher. Yuna wanted him to dominate her, and that is what he did. He grabbed her arms and put them behind her back before taking a few steps back and admiring his work. Yuna...the 18-year-old K-Pop idol...Itzy's maknae...bent over his desk wearing nothing but the school uniform, with her holes exposed for him and him only. The grin on his face said it all, and he was ready to put Yuna in her place.

He put the ruler in his hands and gave her a swift but not too hard slap. Yuna let out a soft moan once she felt the large wooden object hit her skin, and she smiled every time he spanked her with the ruler.

"Hit me harder, c'mon. Make me your slut." She said, shaking her butt from side to side.

Her teasing only made his cock throb against his pants even more, and if Yuna wanted it harder, she was going to get it. The professor pulled his arm further than before and began hitting her with his ruler. Yuna's cheeks shook with each spank and she bit her lip hard. She was enjoying the constant stinging sensation on her buttcheeks, and the handprint that was previously on her ass had been replaced by numerous red marks. However, unsurprisingly, she wanted more.

For a horny slut like Yuna, being butt naked and bent over a table whilst getting spanked in a classroom inside the fucking school was just simply wasn't enough for her. As for her professor, it was dreamland. He had easily the hottest girl in the school, half naked in front of him. That alone in any other scenario would be enough to send any man into a euphoric state, but Yuna wasn't any other girl...

She was an 'It Girl' of the K-Pop industry. Yuna was already so famous that it was practically impossible to step foot outside without seeing her face on a big ass billboard. To have someone that famous...that talented...that rich, right in front of you and at your mercy...it's something capable of turning any man into a lust-frenzied animal, and in this case it was no different.

Her teacher kept unleashing a barrage of spanks on her ass, and those were always met with the same word.

"Harder!"

Yuna was a complete masochist, and he fucking loved that. At the start, he was a bit afraid of hitting her hard, but now he wasn't holding back anymore. With each slap, the ruler left a nasty red mark, and the sounds of it hitting her ass echoed inside the classroom.

"HARDER!"

Yuna wasn't the only one taking a beating, as all this spanking was absolutely draining his energy, and Yuna could feel that because of the longer time between each hit. He took a step back for a little bit of a breather and admired the damage that he had done. Yuna's cheeks were so red that it was as if she had decided to tan only that part of her body.

"Do you want to spank me some more, or do you want to put your hard dick inside my mouth and make me choke on it?"

"S-Shut up...shut up and spread that asshole for me, slut." He said in between heavy breaths.

Yuna didn't waste any time and put her fingers between her asscheeks. As soon as her fingertips made contact with her skin, she felt just how much pain she was really in. It was going to be a long time before she could sit her sweet ass on any surface...

She was still eager to comply, so she grabbed her asscheeks once again and spread them wide, to give him the perfect view of her tight little hole.

"Take a good look, daddy."

"That's what you will be pounding in just a few minutes."

"I can't wait to feel that hard cock filling me up and stretching me out."

"I bet your wife doesn't even take it up the ass, now does she?"

The bare mention of his wife turned all that lust into pure rage. He didn't want to be in this situation to begin with, but Yuna gave him no other option, with how naughty she behaved and talked. Without saying a single word, he grabbed her hands and put them on the table before taking a few steps back.

Yuna was completely unaware of what her teacher was going to do. Her head was pressed sideways against the table, and all she could do was wait in anticipation. The professor held the wooden ruler with both of his hands, as if he was holding a baseball bat or a katana and lifted it above his head before smashing it against her right cheek with all his strength.

"FUCK, OH MY FUCKING GOD, FUCKKKKKKK!!!!!" She cried out.

He used so much power that the ruler broke in half once it made contact with Yuna's ass. Even he was in shock once he saw one piece of the ruler flying across the room and the other one still in his hands. Yuna was in complete pain, and she definitely bit off more than she could chew. It was safe to say that she learned her lesson. She had spent so many moments inside that classroom over the years, and yet, despite all the pain she was in, this was still by far her favourite moment of being there.

A short moment of silence settled in the classroom, with them realizing that they had both crossed the line in their lust for each other. Yuna slowly turned around and looked him in the eyes, with a painful look on her face. As for him, he had mixed feelings all over the place. He had just smashed a wooden ruler against his student's ass so hard that it broke in half!!! And it wasn't just any student, no...it was Yuna. Someone who could easily buy his whole house. Someone who made more money in two years than him in his entire career as a teacher. And to add to that, he had his wife in the back of his mind. Technically, he wasn't cheating on her...he still hadn't had sex with Yuna. He could stop right here and walk away, but his cock had a mind of its own, and he knew he couldn't resist Itzy's maknae any longer.

"Are...are you ready for your reward?"

"Yes, daddy. I've never been more ready for cock in my whole life. I'm so wet for you."

"I'm going to suck your cock so good, that you won't be able to think of anyone else." She added.

Yuna was treading through dangerous waters. She made sure to avoid his trigger word, but he knew very well what she meant by that. He shot her an unpleasant look, before moving on.

"Good. Then get down on your knees and open your fucking mouth."

Despite his order, there was no chance in hell Yuna could sit with how sore her ass was, so instead she just squatted and unbuckled his pants before pulling them down. A wide smile appeared on her face once she was finally had his big cock in front of her.

Her hands immediately latched onto it, but swatted them away, which brought out Yuna's puppy eyes. It was if someone had just taken away her favourite toy.

She wasn't left sad for too long though, as he placed his hand on the top of her head and started slapping her face with his big dick. Yuna stuck her tongue out after the first couple of slaps and happily let him use her face for his pleasure.

Yuna loved feeling his ridiculously hard cock hitting her face and tongue, and he knew it. And despite knowing how much she was enjoying herself, he knew what she really wanted, and he decided to make her beg for it.

"Tell me what you want, Yuna. Say it."

"Please, daddy...push your cock down my throat."

"That's not good enough!" He replied, slamming his fist on the table.

"Put that big dick in my mouth and make me take it like the slut that I am. I know I can give head way better than your lame, ugly wife."

"Oh, shut the fuck up and take my cock, you fucking slut." He said, grabbing her hair and forcing his cock down Yuna's throat.

Yuna knew exactly how to trigger him, and she got what she wanted from him...his cock right into the back of her throat. No going slow...no time to adjust...none of that bullshit. Just straight up intense facefuck from the very start.

The professor held her head and kept pounding away at her face, fucking her throat without any mercy. Yuna's jaw was forced wide open, and she couldn't help but gag around his length each time it went down her throat.

Her mouth was filled with cock and she had drool all over her chin. Spit was constantly leaking out of the corners of Yuna's mouth, despite her having her lips wrapped tightly around his cock.

The only thing that could be heard inside the classroom was the sound of his balls slapping her chin and Yuna's gagging. Her throat was being demolished by her teacher's dick, and yet, she didn't want to have it any other way. He kept on using her as his personal fleshlight for a while longer, until he decided to stop his thrusts into the back of her throat. However, instead of pulling out, he remained balls deep inside her throat, taking on the view that he knew he would surely only see once in his life...

He admired the bulge of his cock in her neck and how pretty she looked with his dick stuffed down her throat.

"You look so beautiful with my dick in your mouth, you know that?"

Yuna smiled around his length, which made a lot of saliva escape her mouth and drip down her chin before it landed on her school uniform.

"So this is why you failed in the final exam, huh? Turned 18 and discovered your true passion...acting like a slut, sucking dicks, getting fucked and draining big cocks, huh?" He asked, letting his cock slip out of her mouth.

Before Yuna could even answer, he started slapping her a few times with his cock, just to make a complete mess of her face. Yuna smiled and let him rub is dick all over her lips as much as he wanted, before finally coming to a stop and letting Itzy's starlet answer his question. "I can't lie...my music career is no longer my number one priority."

"All I really want these days is a nice fat cock to play with and drain as much as I want." She said, opening her mouth for him to stick his shaft back inside.

He was slow this time, just enjoying the way her lips felt every time he slid his dick past them. Yuna hummed around his length and made sure to match his movements by slowly bobbing her head back and forth on his cock.

"You love that, don't you?"

"Yes, daddy. I love having dick in my mouth. I love sucking huge cocks like yours." She said, releasing him from her mouth.

"Then prove it. Show me how much you love this dick, Yuna."

His words had barely left his mouth, and Yuna already taking his cock inside hers. She started to bob her head up and down his cock rapidly, making loud slurping noises each time his dick went past her lips.

Yuna made sure not to leave an inch of his cock untouched. She ran her tongue all over his balls, coating them in her spit before popping them in her mouth and sucking on them, all whilst rapidly stroking his wet cock. She then licked the underside of his shaft all the way to the tip before pushing his cock back inside her mouth, where she immediately deepthroated his entire length over and over again, gagging and coughing all over it.

She kept was choking herself on his dick and her eyes became watery, but not once did she think about stopping or pulling away. Yuna's face was turning red with each passing second, but that wasn't going to stop her.

What did end up stopping Yuna was her insatiable thirst for having his cock deep inside her holes, and after a couple more deepthroats, she released him from her mouth with a loud pop before standing up and turning around.

"Are you ready to pound my asshole, daddy?" She asked, looking over her shoulder.

"Is that what you want, Yuna? To get fucked by your teacher?"

"Yes, I need it so badly! I want to be your naughty, slutty student, bent over your desk, waiting for her teacher's dick."

"I'm going to make you scream on my fucking cock." He whispered at her ear, before pushing her back down on the table, with her head against the cold steel surface.

Instead of going straight into the action, he decided to tease her just a little bit by running his finger up and down the length of her pussy lips. Yuna's juices were starting to drip down her legs, and her teacher used it to lube her asshole up, rubbing his fingers against her tight hole.

He then spat on his fingers and shoved three inside her asshole, basically giving her a signal that he wasn't here to play nice...Yuna was going to get it and she was going to get it hard.

Yuna let out a couple of moans once she felt his fingers enter her tight little bumhole. Her professor began pumping them in and out, stretching her as much as possible to prepare her for his big fat cock.

"You don't need to waste any time stretching me, daddy. I want your cock right now."

"I want you to break me in half, fill my tight little hole with your hot cum and claim my asshole for yourself."

Yuna's request was loud and obvious, and he was eager to give her what she wanted. He grabbed his cock and pressed it against her hole before slowly pushing his hips forward until his entire length was buried inside her tight butt.

"Oh god...fuckkkkk. That's just what I needed."

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head once she felt his whole shaft inside her, and once he slowly pulled back, Yuna knew it was about to go down.

The teacher thrust his hips inside her and began fucking her asshole. Not slow, not fast. Just the perfect pace, giving her the perfect amount of pain and pleasure without blowing his load so soon.

Her moans became slightly louder with each thrust, and they echoed inside the room. Yuna's breasts were pressed against the table, and her asscheeks jiggled every time his hips met hers.

It was practically heaven for Yuna, especially when she felt his balls slapping her pussy. The longer they went at it, the better and louder it got.

"Give me that cock. Just fuck me as hard as you can. I can take it, daddy."

"Who's a good slut for daddy's cock?" He asked, grabbing her hair with one hand and slapping her sore asscheeks with the other.

"I am, daddy! I'm your anal slut."

"I am nothing but a K-Pop idol that loves taking huge dicks up her ass!" She cried out, closing her eyes as he kept on pounding her tight hole.

Just like she had said it, Yuna was indeed his anal slut, and he loved it. Yuna's walls were squeezing him for all his worth, and he could feel the pressure building up. It was time to dump his thick load inside her asshole.

He held her hips tightly and increased his speed. If when he was spanking her earlier on, he made sure Yuna couldn't sit for a week, now he was making sure Yuna wouldn't be able to walk for a week. Yuna was being treated like an absolute fuckdoll, and she was moaning every step of the way. She curled her toes as she felt his cock splitting her open and stretching her butt, and it was becoming too much for her to handle, even for a total cumslut like Yuna.

"Oh, Yuna...I'm so fucking close."

"Fill my ass with cum, please."

His dick was going in and out of her ass as fast as he could, and with a young moaning mess like Yuna bent over in front of him, begging for cum, it was too much for him to handle and he ended up unloading a huge amount of cum inside the 18-year-old.

Almost immediately he slumped backwards, balancing himself on a student's table, and watched as Yuna remained in position, unable to move due to the pain.

"Ahhhhh, fuckkkk...daddy. So much fucking cum for me." She said, reaching for her ass and feeling the cum leak out from her butt.

She put a finger inside and collected some of his seed before bringing it to her mouth, where she unsurprisingly poured it on her tongue to taste it.

"Hmmmm...so warm and tasty. I could drink this all day long."

Tired and drained from this extracurricular activity, her teacher stood up and quickly picked up a pen before changing Yuna's exam grade.

"There, done. You got what you wanted. Now, please....leave my classroom."

"Oh, we are not done yet. I'm not leaving until I get my pussy fucked and my face covered in cum."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"I'm not. Plus, I can see that your toy is still hard for me." Yuna said, making her teacher roll his eyes into the back of his head and sigh in disbelief.

"Don't you see how wet I am for you?" She added, grabbing his hand and making him touch her wet folds.

"You are fucking crazy, Yuna..."

Her teacher caved in and began voluntarily dipping his fingers inside Yuna's pussy as the two started making out with one another. The young starlet hummed into his mouth, and the older man explored the maknae's cunt. This lasted for a couple of minutes before Yuna's thirst for cock got the better of her.

"Your cock. My pussy. Now!"

"Is that what my cumslut princess wants?" He said, putting his thumb inside her mouth and making her suck on it.

Yuna shook her head up and down and slowly swirled her tongue around his finger. Her teacher smiled and told her to turn around and place her hands on the edge of his desk. The idol patiently awaited for his next move, and after a few seconds, she felt a pair of hands on her ass. It was still sore due to all the slapping that it had endured earlier on, and she let out a soft cry because of it.

Her whimper became a moan when the professor introduced his tongue inside her cunt and started lapping at her folds.

"Oh fuck, daddyyy, hmmm. Keep eating my pussy...just like that."

He feasted on Yuna's pussy like it was a goddamn buffet, constantly swirling his tongue inside it and tasting her juices before spitting in it. The deeper he shoved his tongue in Yuna's cunt, the louder she moaned. She shut her eyes and her mouth fell open as he kept working her over. The way he was going at it, it was only a matter of time before Yuna came, and she had zero intentions of letting that happen...the only way she was going to cum today, was with his cock buried in her young fertile pussy.

"I'm going to cum if you keep that up, daddy."

"And that's a bad thing because...?"

"I want you to do it with your cock, please."

"Fuck, you are such a greedy little cock slut." He said, standing up and slapping her ass one more time just for good measure.

Having sex with Yuna had drained so much energy from him, that he had to take a moment to grab a water bottle from his bag and take a sip, or else he might've had passed out inside her, not that Yuna would complain...she probably would've ridden his cock until he woke up a few hours later...

After several seconds, he made his way back to Yuna and grabbed her leg, putting it on top of the table. He had seen way too many fancams of her, so he knew she was flexible and could easily take his big white cock in this position. He grabbed his thick shaft and rubbed it all over her pussy lips, sliding it back and forth across her folds and coating it in her wetness, much to Yuna's annoyance, as she just wanted to get fucked hard and nothing else.

"What are you waiting for, daddy? Put it in and start fucking the shit out of me."

If it wasn't for Yuna begging for his cock like the absolute slut that she was, he swore that he could've spent hours just looking at Yuna in that position...a leg on the floor and another one on top of the desk, creating the most perfect 90º angle he had ever seen. Her holes were out and in full display, with some cum still dripping down her leg...she was impossible to resist.

Most people thought that Yuna was like the forbidden fruit...nobody could have her. Except, that very much wasn't the case. Any guy half decent looking and with a big cock could have a crack at her and her tight holes, and thankfully for her teacher, he was him.

After slapping her asscheeks with his hard shaft a couple more times, he pushed his cockhead past her cunt, and he watched how her tight teen pussy swallowed the entire length. Thankfully for him, it was no way near as tight as her ass, but even then, her pussy wasn't very far behind.

Yuna couldn't help but bite her lower lip as her teacher's cock stretched her walls out. She looked over her shoulder and watched him as he slowly began to pump his dick in and out of her tight pussy.

The face Yuna was making as she was getting her pussy pounded hard was so insanely sexy that he couldn't help but grab her hair and pull her in for a kiss. Yuna moaned into his mouth as he kept thrusting in and she couldn't wait for his second load of the day.

"Your pussy feels so good wrapped around my cock, Yuna."

He stopped kissing her and put a hand on the side of her neck to be able to watch her dead in the eyes. Yuna's mouth was wide open and her forehead was touching his. The two were so close to each other that the teacher could feel the heat irradiating from her body, but he wanted more. His hands moved to the bottom of her school uniform and he pulled it over her head, leaving Yuna only with her boots on.

Almost immediately, her breasts became the center of attention, as her professor couldn't keep his hands off them whilst he continued hammering away at Yuna's pussy. Her back was completely arched, and the position she found herself in was a testament to how insane her flexibility was. Yuna was made to be fucked...simple as that.

Everything about her was pornographic. Her gorgeous face, her insane body and her tight holes. She was perfect, from top to bottom, and she very much was a bottom. Yuna loved being a submissive slut for guys with big cocks, and with the constant pleasure of getting her pussy railed hard and fast by her teacher, combined with having his hands pinching her nipples, she couldn't hold any longer and came on his cock.

Her orgasm hit her so hard, that if it wasn't for him holding her in his arms, she would've fallen face first into his desk. Thankfully that didn't happen, and instead he kept fucking Yuna like there was no tomorrow, feeling his own orgasm approaching. "You are such a fucking whore, you know that, right? Cumming on my cock like that."

"I know, daddy. I'm such a whore for big dicks. I love spreading my legs and letting guys use me however they like."

Her dirty talk was the final nail in the coffin, and he quickly pulled out and dragged Yuna onto her knees, where he started stroking his big dick and aiming it right at her face. Yuna wasted no time in sticking her tongue out whilst she rubbed her pussy like the good little slut that she was proud to be.

"Beg for it, Yuna. Tell me how much of a slut you are."

"I want your cum, daddy."

"I need you to cover my face with it and turn me into your personal cumdumpster."

He grinned from ear to ear and held her face close with one hand whilst he kept jerking off with the other until he finally shot his load all over Yuna's face, with some spurts going directly into her mouth. He took a few steps back and looked at the complete mess that he had done. Yuna's entire face was coated with his cum. Her cheeks, forehead, eyelids, nose, lips and even hair all had cum blasted on them.

Yuna giggled upon feeling so many warm spurts land on her face, and once she stopped feeling that pleasant sensation, she took his dick into her mouth to completely milk him dry out of every last drop.

Some of the cum on her face had started to drip down her chin and drop onto her tits when she released his girthy cock from her lips, and she wasted no time in collecting that same cum and pouring it in her mouth.

"Hmmm...just as tasty as the first time."

"Thank you so much, daddy."

"I love draining cocks dry, especially when they are massive like yours."

"The pleasure was all mine, Yuna...trust me."

Yuna smiled before standing up and picking up a tissue from her bag to clean up her face and try to be as presentable as one can be after being completely fucked for the past hour. As for her teacher, he put his clothes back on and watched the young starlet as she was fixing herself. Even though he looked at a naked Yuna dressing up, all he could think about was how on earth he had managed to have sex with an insanely hot and famous K-Pop idol, who practically threw herself at him.

"I should probably go." She said, grabbing her stuff.

"Hey, don't forget your exam...you deserve it, after...you know..."

"Thanks. I hope you had fun, daddy. And just remember...if you need your cock drained, or want me to be your little slutty student again, I'm all yours."

"My...my wife is out of town for the weekend, actually...if y-..."

"Say no more. I'm in!"

"Actually...I'm in as long as you promise me you'll fuck me where your wife sleeps."

"You fucking little slut....."

End of part 1

[mywritersmind]

NOT ONE TO GIVE UP - LN4

summary : in which… a specific nosy neighbor can’t stop flirting.

listen up : lando norris is persistent! slight sex talk.

words : 2327

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Girl… come on.” My best friend rolls her eyes at me, sipping her drink while I scoff.

“What?” I say, even though I already know what she’s going to tell me.

“He’s hot!” She practically yells, “You should go for him.”

The ‘he’ in question is my neighbor who annoys me to no end. Mostly known as Lando Norris.

I shake my head, the image of his curly hair and wide smile appearing in my head from just seconds before when he came to ask me for sugar. I mean seriously, sugar!? We’re not in some story tail. “No way!”

She groans, “Why not? He clearly has a thing for you!”

It’s true. He does clearly have a thing for me. He’s cute and all, don’t get me wrong- but I just can’t.

“Come on.” I sigh, “I don’t go for guys like that.”

“Hot, genuinely kind, sexy, rich men?” I swear to god she already prepared that line.

“He’s a player! I’d be like a toy. Plus, I don’t like him!” She scoffs as if it’s the biggest lie she’s ever head.

“What don’t you like about him?”

“He’s arrogant-”

“Wants to show off for you!” She corrects me.

“And loud!”

She smirks, “Sounds like he’s fun!”

I eye her, “And he’s always bugging me!” Crossing my arms, I sit back in my chair, “Trust me. I will never go out with Lando Norris.”

⋆༺

Three weeks later, after many quiet nights, I yell at him to stop the elevator. Of course, I didn’t know it was him.

But the slip of a man’s tanned and veiny hand into the closing doors made me know instantly. He’s smiling when I walk in. “Need help?”

His tone is casual while I probably look like an idiot trying to hold all my bags. “No- I’m good!” He doesn't listen, grabbing three of my four grocery bags out of my hands like it’s nothing. “I- thanks… I’m having a dinner party.”

I say it as if I'm ashamed to be buying so much food. He doesn’t even blink. “That’s fun.” For a second, I worry he’s going to invite himself, “What are you making?”

He lets me talk the full minute it takes for us to get to our floor, letting me walk ahead while he still holds onto my bags.

I haven’t seen him in a while, he looks tanner, maybe a bit tired too. “Thanks for the help.” I smile as I open my door, reaching out to take the bags but he practically pushes right past me!

“You look like you’d fall over if you held all of them again.” He looks around before finding the kitchen and setting them down on the counter. “Nice place.”

I eye him, “Thanks.”

“It’s very… you.” His eyes still wander and I realize I hate the thought of him seeing my space, especially when it hasn’t been cleaned.

I raise a brow, “You don’t even know me.”

“More of a vibe thing.” He walks towards the door, turning around as he holds the door handle to look at me, “Though if you want me to know you more i’d be more than happy.” He winks at me before shutting the door.

⋆༺

I bang on his door after exactly two nights of uninterrupted sleep. He opens it with a wide grin and a far too awake face for three in the morning. “Lando. I can hear you.”

“Sorry, love.” After I blink at the nickname, I realize he’s not wearing a shirt. He leans against the doorframe when I drag my eyes away from his annoyingly perfect body and back to his annoyingly perfect face.

“What are you even doing?” I cross my arms.

He looks almost surprised at my question, “Um… streaming.”

“Streaming involves gun shots?” I say as his brow quirks, “We share a wall, you know.”

“Have you ever heard…” He trails off as if I'm going to understand immediately. When I don’t, he comes right out with it, “Sex stuff?”

My face goes red, I know it because I can feel my cheeks heat and because Lando’s smile grows. “No!” I say it louder than necessary.

“Okay. Just wondering.” He bites his lip, his gaze feeling much more loaded now, “Well, if you ever want to, let me know.”

I groan and walk back to my door, “Goodnight Lando!”

I can practically hear the smirk in his voice, “Night, love.”

⋆༺

I see him on TV a week later. I’m sat on my couch, trying to stop crying over the movie I just finished, and skipping through channels.

I almost miss it. I click past. But I go back once my teary eyes realize what I saw.

It’s Lando. He’s holding a microphone, in his race suit, with a sad look on his face. I’ve never seen him so down, but then again whenever I see him, it’s when he’s flirting with me.

I honestly have no clue what he’s talking about, too focused on how his eyes droop a bit and how his curls are clearly flattened from his helmet. I don’t know a lot about F1, but I suddenly want to know more.

⋆༺

“Hey!” I hear my name in the bar, expecting it to be one of my friends but when I turn- it’s definitely not. Lando is making his way through the crowd, in all black and holding a beer.

“Oh- hey.” My best friend eyes the exact moment he stops in front of me, her eyes wide as she leaves me to fend for myself.

Okay so maybe I don’t hate Lando. Besides the late night gaming, he’s not all that bad considering he’s gone almost every week.

“You look good.” He says it so quick, I wonder how drunk he is. He’s staring at my skirt, at my legs.

“I tried.”

He smiles and something weird happens in my body, his eyes meeting mine, “You don’t even have to try, You always look good.”

I start to say something but fall short when I realize I don’t really know how to respond to that. I’m saved from responding when a hand finds my waist.

One tiny thing I coincidentally forgot when Lando came into view, I'm here with my friends, and a date.

I honestly should have cancelled. I should have not texted back but my friend did it for me, saying I should ‘get out there’. The second he looks at Lando, I regret inviting him out.

“Hey man.” He’s blonde, cute in every way that Lando is pretty. He’s slim, taller than Lando and I and when he holds out his hand, I feel a little nauseous.

I don’t know why! It’s not like Lando is my ex or my new man, it’s just… awkward. Lando’s face is hard, shaking his hand cordially.

“Nice grip you got there.” My date shakes his hand as if Lando just hurt him, the brunette just smiles.

“Sorry. Instinct.” I have a horrible thought about how strong Lando really is- something I shake away with the clearing of my throat.

Lando beats me to it. “Are you her boyfriend, then?” I cringe at his words and take a big gulp of my drink. It’s weird enough seeing him out of our apartment complex, but him talking to my date is ten times worse.

“Nah. Not yet.” He jokes, making me genuinely want to scream and run away, “Easy to see myself as that though!”

Lando doesn’t laugh when my date does. But he does look back at me, “Didn’t know you were into blondes.”

“Didn’t know you knew my type.”

He tilts his head a bit, bringing the bottle to his curved lips, “I think we both know I do.”

My date frowns, “You're not into blondes?”

⋆༺

I’ve seen Lando too many times in the past week. He’s clearly back for god knows how long, and has taken it upon himself to bug me.

“I thought you had friends, Norris. Why ask me?” I sigh, looking at him standing outside of his apartment.

“Because my friends aren’t as pretty as you.” He shrugs, his hands sliding into his pockets, “Please?”

“I’m not going out with you.” He asked me to a new dinner place that he wants to try. I said no.

“Why not?”

“I’m busy.”

He scoffs, “I didn’t even give you a time.”

“You don’t take rejection very well.” I cross my arms, watching him shrug.

“Maybe because I don’t think you mean it.”

I roll my eyes even though i’m not as annoyed as I should be, “Not everyone is going to fall at your feet, Lando.”

“That’s why I asked you. You’re very clearly still standing up.” I bite my lip, shaking my head.

“Go call one of your fuck buddies.” I turn back to my door.

“If I do that, you really will start to hear sex noises!”

“Go ahead! I bought earplugs!”

⋆༺

The next time I see Lando, he’s got the same face as I saw on TV. He’s sitting on the floor outside of his apartment. “Are you okay?”

His eyes dart to me. “Oh. Hi, love. Yeah- I lost my key.” His eyes are bloodshot. “Locksmith should be here soon.” His voice is less enthusiastic today.

I turn my own key in my door, “Oh. Well… want to come in?”

And that is how Lando Norris ended up on my couch eating my leftover spaghetti. He’s overly appreciative, growing quiet only after I ask him if he’s okay again.

“Triple header. Wasn’t great. Just wanna sleep.” He sighs, shoving his fork in his mouth.

“You can here.” I don’t know why I'm being so open, maybe it’s because he looks like a wounded baby bird.

“Nah… I can never sleep after racing.” He shrugs like it’s the most normal thing in the world, “That’s why I game so much.”

“Oh.” Is all I can say. I’m not good at this. Not good at responding to people’s feelings. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I love it-” he yawns, “Just a lot sometimes.”

“If you ever need someone to water your plants or take care of anything- I can help.”

He smiles softly, his head tilted back on the couch, “I can barely keep myself alive when I'm in town. But thanks, you’re really nice.”

“Why do you flirt with me?” I say it so suddenly that I think it surprises us both.

“That wasn’t flirting, you really are nice.”

“No- I mean calling me love and complimenting me and stuff.”

He shrugs, “Why does anybody flirt with someone else? I like you.” Lando’s phone rings in the moments of silence that follows, he picks it up and after a few words, he stands. “Locksmiths here. I’ll knock if I ever get a plant.”

⋆༺

I see him one week later, he’s waiting by my door with a piece of paper in hand. “You’re back.” Is how I greet him. After that day in my apartment, I haven’t seen or heard him.

“I am.” He smiles, “I got this for you.” he hands me the paper and I realize that it’s a postcard. It’s from Italy, with a scene of a race track on the front.

When I turn it around, I’m a bit shocked that he’s written anything at all.

It reads,

Hi love, Lando here. Obviously… Anyways I wanted to buy a postcard but couldn’t think of anyone but you that would like it. (I saw the cards on your fridge when I was there) so I hope you do. Like it, I mean. I wanted to say something cool like ‘I won here!!’ but I got second so that’ll have to be the next postcard you get. Hope you still think i’m cool (honestly i don’t know if you ever did) also here’s my number if you ever need it, or want it. use it, please.

He’s still standing in front of me when I finish. I can’t help but smile. “P2 is still great.”

“The only part you focused on is how I didn’t win?” He frowns as my smile grows.

“I see the number too.”

The corner of his mouth lifts, “Good. That’s my favorite part.”

“You really don’t give up, huh?”

“I’m no quitter.”

“Why do you want to go out with me so bad? Did you run out of girls in Monaco?” The second I finish talking, I feel bad.

But he doesn’t look offended, “I don’t understand why you can’t grasp the idea of me wanting you. I mean- I’m pretty obvious about it! I think you’re really funny and nice even when you’re trying to be mean. I also made it clear to both of us when I met that tall fucker in the bar, way too ugly for you, by the way.”

“Lando.”

“The point is, I want to take you out on a proper date because I think you’re beautiful and, yeah, probably too good for me but maybe I can make up for it if you say yes.”

I shake my head but my smile stays, “I’m not too good for you.” He starts to argue but I shut him up, “I’ll go out with you.”

His eyes brighten, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I roll my eyes, not really believing myself. But then again, I look at him and I can’t remember why I ever said no.

“Okay.” He looks at his shoes, “Great! I’ll uh- or I guess you can text me. Or I can! Or-”

“Or you can come knock on my door tonight at seven.” He’s smiling fully now, nodding.

“Sounds good.”

I stand on my toes to kiss his cheek, “I like guys who don’t give up.”

“You weren’t annoyed by me?”

“Oh I was annoyed!” I laugh as his jaw drops a bit, “You just happen to be charming at the same time.

[vaginalvr]

OMG reader is a babysitter for JJ and when reid goes and visit her kid he gets babyfever and just wants to creampie her

yes ofc I just got over my pregnancy scare!

cw: baby fever, soft dom!Spencer, oral (f!receiving), unprotected PIV (established relationship), creampie, domestic themes, possessiveness, slight breeding kink, aftercare

REQUESTS OPEN!

JJ was running late, unsurprisingly. A local case had them scrambling to close paperwork, and you were more than happy to help by watching Henry for the evening. He’d just fallen asleep after an exhausting hour of hide-and-seek and story time. His little hand had curled against your shoulder before you laid him gently in his bed, watching his chest rise and fall.

You loved babysitting Henry. He was sweet, polite, and easy. You didn’t mind JJ’s late nights either—her trust in you meant the world.

You were halfway through cleaning up blocks from the living room floor when a knock startled you.

You padded barefoot across the rug and cracked the door open.

“Spencer?”

He gave a soft, sheepish smile and raised a small paper bag. “JJ said you were here tonight. I brought dinner. Thought maybe you hadn’t eaten.”

You blinked at him, touched. “You thought right. Come in.”

He stepped inside, careful not to let the door creak. He looked… different here. Less stiff, more boyish. The cardigan and soft blue dress shirt made him look impossibly cozy. Domestic.

You couldn’t help the flutter in your chest as he looked around JJ’s house, eyes scanning the toys and coloring books scattered on the coffee table.

“She always tells me how much Henry loves you.”

“Really?”

Spencer nodded, setting the bag on the kitchen counter. “He once said you make the best dinosaur roars.”

You laughed, blushing. “That kid has too much dirt on me.”

You sat together on the couch, eating takeout out of plastic containers, the occasional baby monitor buzz drifting from the kitchen. At one point, Spencer’s eyes drifted to the hallway toward Henry’s room.

“Can I… see him? Just for a second?”

You paused, then smiled softly. “Yeah. He’s fast asleep. Come on.”

You led him quietly into the nursery, watching as Spencer leaned into the doorframe and gazed down at the little boy curled up under a blue blanket.

His face changed—eyes softening, mouth parting just slightly. His usual anxious energy had melted into something else entirely. Reverence. Wonder.

“He’s gotten so big,” he murmured. “I remember when he was born.”

You watched him, heart tugging.

“You ever want one?” you whispered.

He looked at you then, and something in his eyes flickered—like you’d flipped a switch he didn’t know he had.

“All the time lately,” he admitted, voice low. “It’s strange. I never used to think about it. But now I can’t stop.”

“Why now?”

He looked back at Henry, then to you, gaze dropping to your lips.

“Maybe because I finally found someone I could see it with.”

Your breath caught. The room was still, heavy with that quiet, loaded confession.

And suddenly you weren’t in the nursery anymore.

—

Back on the couch, neither of you was saying much, tension thick in the air. You could feel his gaze on you as you tucked your legs under yourself, playing absently with the hem of your shirt.

“You’d be a really good dad,” you said softly, glancing at him.

He didn’t smile. Not this time.

“I’d want to do everything right,” he said. “Be present. Be patient. I’d read all the research. Buy the safest crib. Cook every meal from scratch. I’d… hold them on my chest and sing them lullabies in Latin.”

You let out a quiet, breathless laugh. “Of course you would.”

He shifted closer. “But only with someone who’d love them just as much as I do.”

You turned toward him—and he kissed you.

It started soft, but quickly deepened, all the weight of longing pouring into the way his hands cupped your face, how his thumb grazed your cheek like he couldn’t believe you were real.

He kissed like a man who’d dreamed of this a hundred times and didn’t want to wake up.

When you gasped against his lips, his hands dropped to your waist, pulling you into his lap. You straddled him, fingers in his hair, heart pounding.

“I can’t stop thinking about you like this,” he whispered. “Here. In this house. Holding a baby. Wearing soft things and calling me home.”

You whimpered, rolling your hips instinctively. “Spencer…”

“I want to see you pregnant,” he groaned, lips dragging down your neck. “Swollen and glowing. I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

Your panties were soaked.

He slipped his hands under your shirt, fingers trembling slightly as he lifted it over your head. His mouth dropped open when he saw you—bare, flushed, pupils blown wide.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You’re perfect.”

His mouth latched onto your breast, sucking gently, tongue flicking your nipple until you whined. Your hips rocked again, pressing against the growing bulge in his slacks.

“Bedroom,” you gasped. “Or we’re not gonna make it.”

You led him down the hall like you belonged there. Maybe you would, one day.

—

JJ’s guest room was small, cozy, and dim. The second the door shut, Spencer had you against it, kissing you like he’d die if he didn’t.

You reached for his belt, but he caught your wrists, guiding you to the bed instead.

“Let me,” he whispered.

You laid back, trembling with need, and watched him undress. His shirt slipped off first—soft chest, pale skin, lean and familiar. He kissed your ankle, then your knee, then your thigh, spreading your legs gently.

“Stay quiet, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Don’t want to wake the baby.”

You nodded frantically as his mouth lowered to your soaked panties, dragging them down your thighs. The first swipe of his tongue was slow, savoring.

You clutched the pillow, biting it to muffle your cry.

He ate you like he meant it. Like your pleasure was a prayer. He licked deep, slow circles, flicking over your clit before sucking it gently into his mouth.

You came with a soft sob, shaking in his arms, and he kissed you through it—whispering praises against your skin.

“So good for me… so beautiful…”

He lined himself up without hesitation, eyes locking with yours.

“Ready?” he asked, stroking the head of his cock through your slick folds.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Please, Spencer…”

He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, groaning low when he bottomed out.

“Fuck, you feel like heaven,” he rasped. “So warm… so tight…”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him deeply as he started to move. Each thrust was slow, deliberate—like he wanted you to remember this for the rest of your life.

“I want to fill you up,” he whispered in your ear. “Want to see you dripping with me.”

You whimpered, nails digging into his back.

“You want that too, don’t you?” he asked. “Want to be full of me? Walking around with my baby inside you?”

Your walls fluttered. “Yes—Spencer, yes—”

His pace faltered as he buried himself deep one last time, groaning into your shoulder. You felt him pulse inside you, hot and overwhelming.

He held you through it, hips rocking slowly until you both came down.

—

Later, he stayed pressed against you, hand resting on your belly like he could feel the future there.

“Someday,” he whispered. “If you want.”

You turned to him, brushing hair from his face.

“I think I do.”

He smiled, slow and real. “Then someday, it’ll be ours.”

You kissed him again, and in the next room, Henry stirred—but didn’t wake.

[wlwoceaneyes]

Reader gets hurt during an undercover mission. pEmily comes to check on her, things get tense, then heated. Helps her out of the dress.

Classified Desires

pairing: emily prentiss x fem!bau!reader word count: 2938 k summary: Reader participates in an undercover mission that requires her to wear an elegant, tight-fitting dress. She sustains minor injuries during the takedown. Later, Emily visits her hotel room to check on her. Emotions run high, boundaries blur, and Emily ends up helping her out of the dress — leading to a heated, intimate encounter. tags: smut (18 +), teasing, vaginal fingering, top!emily, light choking… is there something missing? If yes, hit me up (I’m new to this) A/N: Here’s a small attempt for this prompt… I hope the smut part isn’t as cringe as I think it is! I’ve never written anything like this before. Please bear with me😂. I hope you like it :)

You smooth your hands once again over the deep burgundy dress that hugs your curves perfectly and makes you look like a movie star. The lace along the neckline brushes softly against your skin, cradling your breasts before ending just beneath your arms. The silky, cool fabric clings sensually to your body, skimming your legs and accentuating your toned calves. The black high heels complete the outfit, adding height and forcing your posture into elegance. It’s not something you would ever wear in private, and yet tonight, you must pretend as if you belong to this world. You have to blend in, become part of the crowd, dissolve into them. Into this world of glitz and glamour, etiquette and lavish dinners, slip into it as if you reside among them every day.

Banquet tables line the grand foyer, and two massive chandeliers hang from the towering ceilings like majestic constellations. Paintings stretch across the vaults above, and as you glance upward, you’re momentarily transported back to Rome, to the Sistine Chapel. The ceiling fresco vaguely reminds you of Michelangelo’s Creation of Adam or maybe that’s just the two glasses of champagne warming you from the inside. You turn once on your heel, watching the guests flow in through the side entrance, their eyes equally drawn up to the ceiling. It’s the perfect distraction, an ideal cover for another move in this case. You tug again at your dress, cursing the lack of security it offers.

It’s only your second undercover assignment with the BAU, and there’s no room for protest, no chance to debate your outfit with Penelope Garcia, whether it’s practical or not. You would’ve preferred something that didn’t draw so many eyes, didn’t reveal so much. But that’s exactly what you’re meant to do tonight: attract attention. His attention. The attention of Valerio Marquez.

He’s your prime suspect in the current case. Wealthy and unholy loud about it, indulgent. A known figure in this city, which initially kept him low on your suspect list. Emily, Unit Chief of the BAU, had to fight through layers of politics before the operation was cleared. If this goes wrong, she’s the one who’ll pay for it. But she trusted you. Trusted your intuition, your research, your facts. You and Tara dove deep for this case, into places no one should have to see. Garcia could testify to that; she’s swatted you more than once with her plush pen in protest of your relentless requests. Still, your digging paid off. He’s no longer a footnote, he’s the centerpiece.

“Hades just arrived,” Luke murmurs beside you, and your grip tightens slightly on his arm. “Want another drink, love?”

You scan the room, spot the broad-shouldered man with dark hair near the window, and nod. “Of course, sweetheart,” you reply, dripping with sarcasm and raising an eyebrow.

Luke presses his lips together to suppress a grin. “All for the cover, although…” he mutters, tugging you through the crowd and past your Unit Chief, who’s posing as a waitress tonight.

She throws you a look, hard to define, lingering on Luke a second too long, offering you just enough time to take in her presence properly. If the situation weren’t so tense, you could lose yourself in the lines of her face.

She wears her jet-black hair in a tight ponytail, with a few strands falling loose to frame her long lashes. A crisp white blouse and black pencil skirt contour her figure, she only agreed to the skirt after you insisted it looked good on her. Your gaze lingers too long on her bare legs, on the exposed skin of her hips, where her blouse rides up every time she bends down. She feels your stare before you can look away, her dark eyes catch yours quicker than you can say amen. Something flickers across her expression. If you had to name it, you’d say she caught you. Embarrassment flushes your cheeks, and you turn quickly, following Luke towards the bar.

“Champagne?” he asks, but your mind is elsewhere. You curse your obvious staring, hoping you haven’t given yourself away. It’s not about your cover, no. What truly terrifies you is the idea that Emily Prentiss might have realized you’ve been secretly pining for her. For months.

You nod absently. Luke places the order and leans in slightly. “Showtime’s soon. You ready?” He brushes your hand in a grounding gesture that snaps you back to the present.

“I’m ready,” you say quietly, going through everything one more time in your mind. You’re ready. You’ve trained for this. Still, your heart hammers against your ribs, and nerves twist deep in your belly. You grip the edge of the bar tighter, to stop your hands from shaking.

As expected, your target joins a familiar circle of people by the windows. Every one of them has something to hide, ranging from minor violations to robbery and murder. You wonder how these people are tolerated in such circles, how no one sees them for who they are. Then you realize: everyone here wears a mask. Just like you.

You steady your fingers around the delicate flute, press a kiss to Luke’s cheek, and drift toward the terrace. Blood pounds in your ears, but your focus remains razor-sharp. You navigate through a group of men, each step measured, like a studied dance. When a hand closes on your forearm, your body stiffens. You’re ready to push back, his thumb glides far too intimately over your skin, until your eyes find hers. Deep brown and unwavering. Saying everything words can’t.

You’ve got this.

It’s Emily. She slips past you with a tray before the moment fully settles, before anyone can think twice about it. Her touch lingers like a whisper across your skin. Your hand tingles, but you straighten your shoulders, borrowing her confidence like a second skin. “You’ve got this,” you echo to yourself.

With your head high, you walk toward the terrace, brushing deliberately against Valerio Marquez, murmuring a flushed, apologetic excuse. He takes the bait and follows you outside. Just as planned.

Hours later, you’re standing in front of the full-length mirror in your hotel room. The dress still clings to your body, but you’ve got a bruise blooming on your collarbone, a scrape on your forehead, and raw knees, but you’re okay. Thank god. Things could’ve gone so differently out there on the terrace – one wrong move, one second too slow, but you did it. You proved your point. You weren’t seriously hurt, just grazed when your team made the takedown.

A knock at the door pulls you from your thoughts. You frown, kick off your heels and tiptoe across the room. When the knock comes again, you sigh, no peace, ever. If someone’s here to demand a debrief, you’re going to snap.

“Just a second!” you call, irritation in your voice. You peek through the peephole and freeze. It’s Emily.

Still in her waitress uniform, worry etched into her features. You fling the door open. “Is everything okay?” you ask, breath catching slightly.

Her eyes dart to the cut on your temple, trace the bruise on your collarbone, then flick down to your bare legs. Heat creeps over your skin, and you buzz beneath her intense gaze. You vibrate with it.

“I should be the one asking you that,” she murmurs. Her eyes flick back up to meet yours. “May I come in?” Her voice is low, almost hesitant.

You clear your throat and step aside, allowing her in, bringing her closer than you should. Her scent wraps around you, earthy with a woody undertone that roots itself low in your stomach. That smell does something to you. It’s intoxicating; it makes you reckless. Part of you wants to lean in, give in to your desire, forget the rules. You’d throw caution to the wind for it, if only you were braver, if only she weren’t your boss.

“You disappeared fast,” she says, breaking the silence. You nod, because you don’t trust your voice at the moment.   All you can think about are her lips brushing your neck, her hands sliding around your waist. How your fingers  would feel, gliding down slowly, deliberately, beneath the hem of her skirt, discovering the warmth of her skin underneath. The toughts flicker hot and reckles through you, you shove it aside and focus on her words instead.

“I didn’t get a chance to check on you,” she continues, her voice softer now. “We didn’t want to draw attention… The takedown went smoothly. We brought him in directly.” Her head tilts slightly, eyes scanning your face. “He confessed. Once we showed your evidence.”

Your heart skips a beat. “Really?” you ask, unable to mask your excitement. Relief floods your system, you were right. Emily won’t take the fall.

“You did excellent work.” She reaches up, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “But you got hurt.” Her eyes darken, clouded with something heavier than just concern.

“I’m fine,” you whisper. “Just a scratch. It’ll heal.”

“And the bruise?“, she murmurs, her thumb ghosting along your jaw. “That shouldn’t have happened. You were under my command.“ Your not sure if the means to touch you like that, but it takes your breath away. The space between you hums, charged with more than just electricity.

She pulls her hand back as if burned, suddenly realizing what she’s just done. Crossed a line. “I just wanted to check on you,” she says, her voice rougher than usual. She turns to leave, hand already on the knob, when you finally speak.

“Can you help me with something?” you ask, and her jaw tightens.

“With what?” she asks, still facing the door.

“I can’t get the dress off,” you mumble, cheeks burning with embarrasment. “Penelope helped me into it, but she’s asleep now, and…” You exhale sharply, frustrated and vulnerable. You hate the feeling. “Never mind. I’ll figure it out.”

There is a soft, hesitant pause. “…Okay,” she replies quietly.

When her eyes find yours in the mirror, the air thickens and you forget how to breathe. Her pupils are blown wide, her cheeks flushed. The rigid professionalism from before melts away, just to expose something raw beneath.  

“…O-okay,” you repeat nervously. You turn your back, presenting the zipper to Emily. In the mirror, you watch her fingers fidget nervously. Something you have never seen before, and you probably shouldn’t.

Then, as if flicking a switch, she regains her composure, radiating that commanding aura that usually makes you recoil, but with her, it pulls you in, makes you want to obey without question, even though surrendering control is something you’d normally resist.

She moves behind you, and you instantly feel her warmth. It skims your bare skin like a promise. Her gaze holds yours in the mirror, heavy, unreadable, and full of unspoken truths.

“May I?” she asks, lifting your hair with delicate fingers. The simple question feels far deeper than it sounds.

“Yes,” you breathe, your voice barely more than a whisper. A small, but knowing smile curves her lips.

Her fingertips trail over your neck, brushing the loose strands of your hair over your shoulder, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You try to hide the shiver rising inside you, but she knows. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

Her fingers linger, ghosting over sensitive skin, barely touching that tender spot on your neck. You press your lips together a little too tightly. She notices and steps even closer, her hips grazing yours.

Her fingers find the zipper, while her breath tickles your ear. “Ready?” Her voice is like warm honey, thick and tempting. You rub your thighs together, feeling the ache she stirs inside you. Emily’s eyes flick down to your legs for just a moment, catching the subtle shift in your movement.

Your ear brushes her lips as you tilt your head. All you can do is nod. She exhales softly against your skin, and you bite back a moan.

Slowly, deliberately, she pulls the zipper down. Her gaze is hooded, her breath uneven. When she reaches the small of your back, her fingers skim your spine. She leans forward, eyes fixed on your reflection, marveling at how your body fits perfectly against hers.

Her lips hover just above your skin at the base of your neck. Her breath teases, and all you want is more. Your mouth parts slightly, and a small, unmistakable sound escapes. Her mouth twitches in amusement.

Then she kisses the spot between your shoulder and neck. Softly.

“Oh,” you breathe as she finds the exact right spot that makes your toes curl.

And just like that, Emily lets the dress slip free. It slides to the floor with a quiet whisper of silk, pooling at your feet. You stand there, bare except for a black thong, in front of your boss.

Gentle hands settle on your waist, tracing over the straps of your thong. “Is this okay?” Emily whispers into your ear, placing a kiss on your cheek.

“More than okay,” you reply, clinging to her forearms as she possessively pulls you tighter against her body.

Her hand moves to your face, which she gently turns toward her. “I couldn’t think about anything else all evening,” Emily’s lips trail down to your jaw before finally pausing in front of your mouth and kissing you. “You looked so sinfully good in that dress, and everyone was staring at you.”

You smile at her words and rest your fingers on her arms. “But I only had eyes for you,” you admit, glancing shyly down at the floor.

“Hey,” Emily’s fingers touch your chin, lifting it gently, “Look at me, Y/N.”

When your eyes meet hers again, all you see is desire, and something softer - maybe devotion. It steals away every coherent thought, because the certainty that your boss wants you just as much as you want her? That’s not something you ever dared to assume. She never let it show. Only occasionally, fleeting hints, flirty comments, brief touches that made you questioning everything.

“You were the most beautiful person in that room,“ she murmurs, brushing another soft kiss on your lips. “And the way you looked at me told me everything I needed to know.“ She pauses, just for a moment.  “There was only one thing I didn’t like about your undercover work.”

You blink at her, caught off guard. “What?“

“That kiss,” she says quietly, her fingers trailing down to the column of your neck. “Was it really necessary?“

You open your mouth to respond, but no words come out.

Her eyes narrow. “I thought so,“ she says, her voice low, not amused.

Her fingers tighten ever so slightly around your neck, silencing you. Making it clear who you belong to now. Her teeth catch your lower lip, tugging gently but deliberately, while her free hand drifts down your body.

“I think we need to make something clear here, don't you?” she murmurs, her voice low and dangerous, threading straight through your core.

You nod submissively, instinctively. Your body already aching for her, the tension coiling deep between your legs.

“Good girl,” she whispers, locking eyes with you in the mirror, "Your lips are mine. Do you understand?"

“Hm,” you manage, your instinct to nod stifled by the pressure of Emily's hand around your throat.

“Say it,” she commands, her fingers trailing over the waistband of your thong, teasing you, then slipping just beneath the fabric.

“Yes, Emily,” you breathe, words like a reflex, “I'm all yours.”

“That's better,” she purrs, sliding her hand between your folds with calculated slowness, "That turns you on, doesn’t it?"

“Yes, Emily,” you gasp, the answer tumbling from your lips.

She hums, clearly pleased. “You're a quick learner,” her index finger slides through your slick folds, drawing a whimper from your throat as your hips shift, seeking more. You press into her hand, craving friction, but Emily has other plans. She removes her hand from your neck, only to wrap it firmly around your waist. Her fingers, gliding through your wetness, press gently against your entrance. She waits until your eyes meets hers in the mirror, seeking silent  permission. And when you give it, barley a nod, she doesn’t hesitate. She thrusts into you, and your breath catches as your knees begin to buckle. But she is already there, her arm tightening around your waist, holding you steady as waves of pleasures roll through you.

“Fuck,” you moan, the word torn from deep within your throat. Emily's pace quickens, her fingers curling just right, finding that spot that makes your legs tremble. The heel of her hand presses perfectly against you, sending sparks through your core, driving you toward the edge with dizzying speed. Your mouth parts in surprise, and in the mirror, Emily's gaze devours you. It’s all it takes. The buildup, sharp and sudden, coils fast and tight within you. Never has an orgasm built up inside you so quickly. There is no room for thoughts, only need.

“You look beautiful when you come for me,” she whispers, her fingers moving with devestating precision, pressing deeper, firmer. Drawing every gasp from your lips. Her mouth trails along your neck until she finds your pulse point and sucks, just hard enough to leave a mark. But you don’t care. Your legs begin to shake, you close your eyes, overwhelmed from the sensation.

“Come for me, princess,” she murmurs against your ear, soft and commanding.

And then your world shatters. Light bursts behind your eyelids as pleasure crashes through you, unraveling you completely in her arms.

[hard-core-super-star]

the effects were temporary [W.Maximoff]

pairing: sugarmommy!wanda x reader

summary: you and wanda make your way back to each and slowly, you begin again.

warnings: none?; slight angst; hurt + comfort; R gets drunk, kate pays for it; bishova mentions because my hand slipped; wanda doing her best to be vulnerable; SO many feelings; technically an argument, i guess?

wordcount: 2k

a/n: this fic took longer to write than i wanted it to because i ended up getting sick last week when i was working on it BUT now it's here. thank you so much for the love on the last part, i hope this meets your expectations. and not to spoil anything but...there will probably be one more smut part as a finale as my way of saying a brief goodbye to these two idiots. anyway, i hope you enjoy <3

part one | part two | part three |

* * * * * * *

Avoiding Wanda wasn't the best idea you'd ever had.

Sure, in the moment it seemed like the best course of action. To run out of her office, pretending to get lunch but truly leaving with no intention of coming back. The second you'd gotten some air, though, you'd realized that you had nowhere to go.

At least nowhere where Wanda couldn't find you.

You weren't foolish enough to think she wouldn't go look for you but you chose to run to Kate's apartment. At least she had enough security in place to warn you if the older woman came looking for you.

It turned out, however, that she didn't come looking for you. It shouldn't have hurt. It should've been a relief. But instead, all it did was fill your heart with aching.

You felt like an idiot for it but you couldn't change your feelings. If you could, you would have stopped yourself from falling for the CEO in the first place. That wasn't what happened, though, and now you were paying for your recklessness.

Well, technically, Kate was paying for it. In your defense, she was the one who came up with the brilliant plan of going out to drink your sorrows away. It was one of the archer's usual bad ideas that hid her own desires. Mainly, her desire to see Yelena and drink enough whiskey until she could gather the courage to sneak away with her to some dark corner.

Tacky as it was, you couldn't find it in yourself to care.

The bar she'd chosen this time was at least half-empty with strong drinks and a careful bartender. No one had bothered you so far and the taste of alcohol kept you enough company to ignore how lonely you felt without Kate and Yelena around.

Then again, watching them throw heart-eyes at each other didn't help your loneliness one bit either. The archer was an idiot, there was no denying that, but right now…she was doing better than you in that department.

What a jerk.

"Hey, let me buy you a drink."

You turn your head to look at the owner of the voice. To no one's surprise, it's a guy with a smirk so self-assured, it's hard to feel safe near him.

But the sound of free drinks is far too tempting to pass up.

"Sure."

As stupid as it is, you get swept up into a conversation with him, not fully paying attention to what he's saying and keeping an eye on the bartender who seems ready to step in if anything goes south. You know they're just doing their job, but still, it's sweet. And for a second, it reminds you of the woman you're supposed to be forgetting.

Those reminders distract you more than hurt you and it's not until you feel a hand land on your thigh that you realize you severely miscalculated the situation. Of course, you hadn't been foolish enough to think the guy didn't have some ulterior motive but you were too far past tipsy to have an escape plan.

You're one second away from yelling for the bartender when a strong presence slips behind you, a careful arm wrapping around your shoulders. Your muscles tense for a second until the smell of expensive perfume hits your nose.

Not just any expensive perfume, though.

Her perfume.

"Is everything okay over here?"

The sound of Wanda's voice relaxes you far quicker than you would have liked. Without even meaning to, you lean back against her, knowing that despite the anger and the hurt that lingers between you, she'd never let anything happen to you.

"I'm just keeping the lady company," the guy replies with what he thinks is a charming smile.

The older woman laughs, the sound devoid of any amusement. "I don't think the lady wants your company."

There's a reply from the guy but you don't pay it any attention. Instead, you stumble your way off the stool and lean against Wanda. "Take me home. Please."

Even though you're in no situation to make demands of her, her concern for you outweighs all of her complaints. Her arm wraps around your waist and she leads you away from the bar with ease. "Let's go."

You practically stumble your way outside, the world around you a blur of shapes and lights and far too many smells. Every step makes you lean further into the older woman despite the urge to run from her again. In this state, though, you wouldn't be able to make it too far.

The walk to her car is a blur and before you know it, you're well on your way to her penthouse. A part of you knows that's where she's taking you and while you could complain, you don't necessarily want to spend the rest of the night alone.

So, as stupid as it is, you sit in her car and go home with her.

It's not until you're in her penthouse that either of you speaks again. Like usual, you can't be yourselves until she's out of public sight. She can say whatever she wants when the two of you are alone but it's always something different when you're out in the real world.

Being back in the familiar space only serves to remind you of that.

Even though you're still leaning against her, you're unable to keep yourself quiet anymore. "You're an asshole."

Your slurred words make her eyebrows raise in surprise. "Excuse me?"

Whatever rules used to govern your interactions with her have long faded away, leaving behind nothing but the fire of your anger. The anger of being left behind.

Maybe she hadn't physically left you, you had been the one to walk away, but emotionally, she'd shut you out before you even decided to leave.

"You heard me," you respond, standing your ground even as you sway to the side. "You're an asshole."

"For trying to keep you safe?"

"For never letting me in. Always keeping me at arms length. Acting like you didn't care about me."

She sets you down on the couch, using the excuse of getting you some water to put distance between you again. 'That's not…you're drunk, y/n. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, come on, Wanda. For once, be honest."

You have no doubt your words anger her but she's too far away for you to see her reaction. Something that only fuels your anger. You're tired of seeing her hold back. Of watching her be vulnerable one moment and then composed the next.

As stupid as it is, your thoughts make you rise to your feet and stumble your way into the kitchen.

She sighs as she watches you approach, handing you a glass of water you're far too shaky to hold onto properly. "What do you want me to say? You're the one that ran away."

The reminder does little to soothe your bitter feelings toward her. "Because you didn't defend me!"

"Defend you?" She repeats. "From what? Agnes was just being an idiot."

If it wouldn't make you incredibly dizzy, you would have rolled your eyes. Instead, you settle for taking a drink of water and leaning against the kitchen island. "Right, that's always what it is, isn't it? Just me overreacting."

Her eyes narrow. "That is not what I meant and you know it."

"No, Wanda, I don't know anything! All you do is tell me one thing and do another-"

"I told you I was yours, was that not enough?" Her voice cracks just enough to show the depth of the emotions behind her words. Clearly, you're not the only one who's been fighting insecurities.

"Not when you let everyone act like I'm just your plaything," you reply, defiantly lifting your chin. "You can't tell me I mean something to you and then pretend I don't mean anything when we're in public. That's not how it works."

Your words make her pause and it takes her a few tries before she can say something. When she finally speaks, her voice is softer. The rough edge of annoyance slipping away and leaving vulnerability behind. "I was trying to keep you safe."

"By pushing me away," you point out.

Wanda lets out a long sigh, turning away from you to gather her thoughts. The angle reveals the glistening of tears in her eyes and before you can think twice of it, you're moving toward her.

Your proximity unravels her and instead of moving away like she usually did, she meets you halfway. The second you're close enough, her arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in close as she melts against you.

"I'm sorry," she mumbles, leaning down to bury her face in your neck. "I didn't mean to hurt you, y/n. Please, believe me."

The apology melts your remaining defenses. Even though you're still pissed off at her, you can't deny how much you miss her. How much you need her.

The distance might not have been enough to make her realize her mistakes but she seems ready to face them now. Ready to understand her best intentions didn't always lead to the best outcomes.

You know you're not completely innocent either. You're the one who ran away, the one who didn't want to talk anymore. The one who decided to give up on her as if you'd ever want anyone else after being with her.

"I believe you, Wands," you whisper, wrapping an arm around her neck and tangling the fingers of your free hand in her hair. "And I'm sorry too."

"Don't be, angel. You didn't do anything wrong."

Her words ease some of the weight you've been carrying since that day. It's not much but it's a start. And maybe a new start is exactly what you two need.

You're not sure how long you spend wrapped up in her arms like that, just that it's long enough for your exhaustion to start catching up to you. It's been a long night, one spent drinking far too much and eating way too little. To say you're tired is an understatement.

Wanda seems to read your mind because she untangles herself from you without another word. "Let's get you to bed, I can take the couch tonight."

You shake your head even though it makes you a little nauseous. "No. I don't want to be alone tonight."

She stares at you for a second before nodding. "Okay, if you're sure."

Instead of answering, you take her hand in yours and lead the familiar path toward the bedroom. While there's a part of you that craves a very specific type of intimacy, you force yourself to wait. You're still tipsy and upset and a little angry and the last thing you need is getting sent headfirst into subdrop again.

When you reach the bedroom, Wanda drops your hand, going off to pick out clothes for you from her closet. It's something she's done a thousand times and yet it makes your heart skip a beat all the same. Everything's the same and yet completely different at the same time. Complicated and yet the easiest it's ever been.

You don't speak again until you're cuddled under the covers, your whole body covered in the scent of the older woman. She's stiff as a log as she lies there next to you and you giggle to yourself as you rest your head against her chest. "Why're you so nervous, Wands?"

"I…I don't know," she answers, the uncertainty in her voice more than clear. "I don't want to hurt you again."

"You won't," you say. "We can start again. All you have to do is try."

The room is quiet while she thinks. Despite the silence, her arms wrap around your waist and pull you closer to her. You don't rush her, though. You can tell she's fighting with herself, with the insticts that make her push you away instead of being honest with you.

"I can do that. For you, I'll do more than just try. I'll be better."

"Just be yourself. I can handle it."

She hums and your eyes drift shut, her presence bringing you a peace you haven't felt in a long time. The last thing you feel before you fall asleep is her lips against your temple and her whispered words of affection.

* * * * * * *

taglist: @boredandneedfanfics @rosekjsses @milflovers4 @sevikasoneandonlywife @dextur @tobeawriter98 @angelicbrats @upsidedowndanvers @justwosoimagines @jizzuo308 @m4ddie3 @alwaysgoodnight

[tqlepatia]

— just know any love I gave you's forever yours to keep .

previous fic masterlist next

summary: After a rough night where their son lashes out at Sevika for kissing her new girlfriend, she brings him back to your home in tears. Once he's asleep, Sevika enters your room to talk.

notes: sorry for the long wait i am doing anothers fics!! here it iss

The bedroom’s dim, the hallway quiet — like the whole house is holding its breath.

Sevika closes the door gently behind her after tucking your son into bed. He’s still curled up tight, cheeks puffy from crying. He only calmed down when you whispered to him together. When he could fall asleep knowing you were both there.

Now, Sevika stands in your doorway like a question.

You sit on the edge of the bed, hands resting on your thighs. You don’t say anything. You’re not sure what’s left to say.

She breaks the silence first, voice low and hoarse: "Didn’t think he’d react like that."

You nod slowly, eyes focused on the floor. "He's a kid. He doesn't know what to do with all that yet. It’s too much."

She exhales through her nose, frustrated. Walks to the chair by your dresser and sinks into it, her bionic arm flexing once, slow.

"You think I fucked him up already?" she mutters.

"No," you say, still not looking at her. "But that’s not the question you should be asking." Sevika frowns. "Then what is it?"

You finally look at her. Your voice comes soft, but sharp enough to cut.

"Why did you think it was okay to bring someone new into his life when he hasn’t even made peace with losing the one he knew?" She goes quiet. Rubs her hand over her face. "I wasn’t tryin’ to replace you."

You give a dry laugh. "He doesn’t know that. He just sees someone else kissing his mom and he thinks... he thinks he lost something."

For a long beat, she doesn't speak. "It didn’t feel real ‘til tonight," she finally admits. "Him freakin’ out like that. Screaming at me. I thought I could... compartmentalize, I guess."

"You can’t do that with him," you say gently. "He doesn’t have compartments. He just feels."

Silence again. But this time, it isn’t bitter. It’s full. Alive. You pat the mattress beside you. "Sit down, Sev."

She hesitates... then gets up, walking over, heavy steps, sinking down next to you. Her body warm. Familiar.

You both stay still for a while. Breathing the same air, Then, something bubbles up in your chest, uninvited:

"Remember when he cut all his hair off with those plastic kid scissors?" She snorts. "Looked like a baby raccoon. Like—straight patches missing everywhere."

You laugh, finally. The real kind, Sevika grins, just a little, like it surprises her. "You were so mad," you say.

"Because he lied and said you did it."

You shrug, smiling. "He knew you wouldn’t stay mad at me." Her smile softens into something quieter.

You shift back onto the bed, laying down. "I miss this. Not just you. I miss... us, all three."

She stretches out beside you, slow, heavy with thought, then carefully puts her head on your chest. You don’t move. Just breathe. Your fingers end up in her hair without thinking.

"He still waits for us to fix it," you whisper. "Even when we act like it’s fine."

"I know," she says, voice muffled against you.

A pause.

"You think we ever will?" You don't answer. You’re not ready to, But then your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You both ignore it at first.

Then hers vibrates.

She doesn’t reach for it either. But when it keeps going — again, and again — she groans softly and lifts her head from your chest. The air changes.

She picks up her phone. The screen lights her face up blue.

"It’s her." You close your eyes. Of course it is—She hesitates. Her thumb hovers over the screen for a long second, then taps. Brings it to her ear.

The voice on the other end cuts through the stillness. You can't make out the exact words, but the tone is clipped — urgent, a little panicked.

"Sevika, what the hell? It’s been hours. Are you coming back? You said you were just dropping him off—” You look away, shifting onto your side. You don’t want to hear her answer.

"No. I’m not, Don’t call again." She hangs up, The silence that follows feels sacred. Thick. Almost holy.

Sevika stares at the floor like she’s still hearing echoes. Her jaw tightens as she sets the phone down, face-down, beside your lamp.

She doesn’t speak. Just moves.

She crosses the room slowly, like she’s thinking through every step. Like if she rushes, you might vanish. Like if she speaks, the spell will break.

She pulls back the covers and slips beneath them again. This time, she doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t hover like a stranger in her own home, She finds you under the sheets, her body warm and heavy beside yours. Her head presses back to your chest — the same place it was before.

But this time, it’s different, Her arm wraps around your waist. Tight. Not possessive — grounding.

You breathe in, your fingers finding her hair again. The strands a little coarse between your fingertips, still damp near the nape of her neck. She smells like your son’s lavender shampoo.

Neither of you speaks for a while. Outside, it starts to rain.

You feel her relax slowly, as if she’s been holding tension in her jaw for weeks, and now she can finally unclench. Her nose brushes the curve of your collarbone.

Then, quietly, you murmur: "He’s gonna be so happy when he wakes up" A shaky exhale leaves her chest. You feel it more than hear it. Her hand tightens in the fabric of your sleep shirt. Her eyes close.

⋮ ⌗ ┆ 𝐓aglist of the series : @possessedmagpie, @starrycherie, @moodient, @h2pinky, @minaridior, @abbysdollie, @vkumi, @acidblum, @skzhoiic, @sleepingwasp, @kmhbygss, @jksevendays, @lovejuliettq, @prettyyyy-girl .

౨ৎ - 𝐓aglist ; @prettyinpink69 , @abbysdollie , @marieeeluvsyou , @littlelovelunette , @madzorwhatever , @zvmbitegirl , @salsalsusu , @katarandaa, @starrycherie, @moonshimegf , @watermelonshine, @zombieeepup .

[monserelates]

Firewhisky & Trouble

"You smell like Firewhisky and trouble."

pairings: f!reader x james potter

summary: When, at a Gryffindor party, y/n gets a tad bit drunk and some feelings come out.

warnings: drunk! f!reader x james potter, idiots in love, fluff heavy, alcohol consumption, not proofread

word count: 995

The Gryffindor Tower glows.

There’s a golden haze in the air from floating fairy lights put up by Lily, enchanted to flicker red and gold. Every surface is covered in discarded scarves, emptied bottles of Firewhisky, and the remnants of a sugar-fueled celebration. The air smells like pumpkin pastries, smoke from the fireplace, sweat, and cinnamon-spiked cider. Music blares from a record player in the corner, and Arthur Weasley charmed the ceiling to look like fireworks—bright explosions of crimson lighting up the stone walls every few minutes.

The Gryffindor common room has never felt more like home.

They’d won.

Gryffindor had destroyed Ravenclaw in the Quidditch match earlier, and Y/N was currently drunk on FireWhisky and victory—her red and gold scarf tied around her head like a bandana, her cheeks flushed with warmth and giddy pride.

She stumbles through the crowd, laughing wildly as Sirius twirls her around like they’re ballroom dancing. He dips her dramatically and nearly drops her.

“Pads, you idiot,” she shrieks, clutching his shoulder. “You’re supposed to catch me!”

“Darling, if I were any smoother, I’d be illegal,” Sirius grins, hair wild, cheeks pink. “Besides, I thought you were the graceful one.”

Y/N kicks his shin (lightly) and throws her head back laughing. Around them, the party whirls: Marlene is arm-wrestling a sixth-year, Dorcas is playing bartender with spiked pumpkin juice, Lily’s sitting cross-legged on the floor arguing about Quidditch strategy with Remus.

And James?

James is watching her like she’s the sun that just agreed to orbit him back.

He’s been doing that all night.

He’d scored the final goal, had practically flown across the pitch with his hair windswept and wild—he looked like a bloody hero from a fairytale. Y/N had screamed herself hoarse, standing on the bleachers and jumping like a lunatic, pride swelling in her chest like a balloon.

And now he’s standing by the fireplace, drinking a cup of butterbeer, his cheeks glowing golden from the flames, his eyes never leaving her.

She notices. Of course she does.

She makes her way toward him, barely walking in a straight line, cheeks hot for entirely new reasons.

“Oi, Potter,” she grins, poking his chest with one finger. “Don’t just stand there lookin’ pretty. You won us the bloody match!”

James grins, sheepish, like he’s never been complimented in his life. “It was a team effort.”

“You liar,” she giggles, falling against him. He immediately catches her, arm slipping around her waist like it’s meant to be there. “You were incredible. I’ve never screamed so loud in my life. Pretty sure I ruptured a lung for you.”

He laughs—low and fond. “You’re very dramatic when you’re drunk.”

“Yeah?” she says, tipping her head up to look at him, eyes wide. “Well, you’re very pretty when you’re victorious.”

And it just—hangs there.

Heavy.

James goes pink all the way to his hairline.

“Merlin,” he mutters, “you’re gonna kill me, aren’t you?”

She blinks. “What?”

He runs a hand through his hair, suddenly nervous. “You. Saying things like that. Looking at me like that. Laughing like that. It’s—it’s murder.”

Y/N stares at him, stunned silent for once in her life. Her heart is slamming against her ribs.

Then Sirius claps a hand on both their shoulders, completely ruining the moment.

“My favourite idiots,” he bellows. “Y/N, can you help me steal more chocolate frogs from the kitchen?” he asks.

Y/N groans, burying her face in James’s jumper. “I hate him.”

“No, you don’t,” James murmurs into her hair. “He’s your brother. Practically.”

“You’re my favourite Marauder,” she whispers, loud enough for Sirius to hear.

Sirius gasps. “TRAITOR.”

James laughs and tightens his hold around her. “Don’t let Moony hear that.”

“Oh, he knows,” Remus calls from the couch, raising his Butterbeer. “You’re all absolutely insufferable.”

She laughs. "Okay, fine Pads, I'll go." Y/N steadies herself and follows through.

“Oh, she’s sloshed,” Lily says beside him, watching Y/N trip over her own feet and fall into Sirius.

“She’s perfect,” James replies dreamily.

Lily side-eyes him. “You’re pathetic.”

He doesn’t argue.

-----

Twenty minutes later, Y/N plops down right next to him on the couch, nearly landing on his lap.

“Hi,” she says, eyes bright and warm, voice overly deliberate like she’s trying to sound very sober.

“Hi,” he laughs, steadying her with a hand on her back. “Having fun, love?”

“Mmhm,” she hums, dramatically flopping over so her head lands in his lap. “But my feet are being evil and the floor hates me.”

“Floor’s a bastard,” James agrees seriously.

She snorts and tugs on his sweater sleeve, blinking up at him. “You’re really pretty, you know that?”

He freezes. “I—uh—what?”

“I said you’re pretty, James Potter.” She pokes his nose. “Pretty boy. With your dumb hair and your stupid beautiful eyes and your arms that do that thing when you flex.”

James stares at her, red from his ears down to his collarbone.

“You’re drunk,” he says, voice wrecked.

“And you’re soft,” she counters, curling into him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Like a pillow made of stars and good intentions.”

He laughs quietly and lets her stay there, running a hand through her hair.

Much later, the common room has thinned out. Lily, Dorcas, and Marlene are curled up together by the fireplace, whispering and watching like witches at a coven. Sirius is passed out under the snack table. Peter’s snoring on the stairs. Remus is reading—how?, no one knows.

“Y’know,” Y/N whispers later, barely awake now, “sometimes I think if I kissed you, the whole castle would cheer.”

James nearly chokes. “W-what?”

“Mhm. 'Cause everyone knows. They bet on us, Potter. Even McGonagall. I heard her.”

She yawns, her fingers curling into his jumper. “Do you think I’d be a good girlfriend?”

James swallows. “I think you’d be perfect.”

She smiles, already half asleep.

“Cool,” she mumbles. “Maybe I’ll kiss you tomorrow.”

He watches her for a long moment before whispering, “I’d wait forever.”

[inbabylontheywept]

holy hell are people just crueler in arizona????

how would the idea to drag a 2nd grader around on gravel until his back is destroyed even occur to a person????

glad you have your sister to back you up. as a certified big sister (the certificate being the shirt i got saying "awesome big sister" after the birth of my second baby sister), this is what must be done for siblings. you can't fuck with them, that's our job. if there were a nobel prize for big-sistering, i think she should win, but alas, there isn't.

my dad grew up in phoenix/scottsdale and was also bullied in school. once when he was a teen he was walking home and some random boys sprayed mace in his face for no reason and drove off (they were later busted for illegal possession of a weapon, as there was a gun in their backseat). is there something in the water there?

Ehhhhhhh. I've talked to some people about events like this in my childhood, and gotten a lot of responses along the lines of "What Bastard Ass Corner of Hell Did You Crawl Out Of," so here's my multitheory of Arizona Weirdness.

The Summers: Arizona doesn't do daylight savings because it has no desire to save any daylight. Whenever people aren't looking, it tries to discreetly pick pieces of sunlight off its plate to feed to the dog. There was a humiliating incident a few years ago where it thought nobody was looking and tried to throw a large piece of sunlight out an open window into the backyard, but the window was not open, it was merely very clean, so it SMACKED into the glass and slid down and fell on the kitchen floor while everyone watched. This incident is still spoken of in hushed winters in PNW dinner parties. The summers of Arizona make everyone a little manic. Fortunately, God realized this was going to be a huge problem, so He had for the foresight to limit summers to only approximately 6 months of the year. Adding fuel to the fire is that the mania is accompanied by an outside temperature above 110 F (43 C) so you either stay inside and get this very intense kind of cabin fever (like watching TV static on Adderall) or you go outside where you are both energetic and in extreme physical discomfort. Most of the people that are outside have actually tried their best to stay inside, it's just that the Cabin Fever finally succeeded in overriding their pain receptors, so they are basically the equivalent of mindless rage zombies unless they are actually inside of a pool at that very moment. This is why everyone in Arizona owns pools.

The Mormons: The Mormons are extremely resistant to cultural changes. This is because they pick their prophets from a group of 13 old men who are literally competing to see who lives the longest. The oldest gets to be in charge. If this sounds like a bad plan consider that any time one of them dies, everyone goes, ah, well, he probably wouldn't have made a good prophet then. You know. Because God killed him and all. I have always considered this hilarious in how brutal it is. Anyway, the Mormons consistently linger ~20 years behind the standard culture. So growing up in 1980's Mormonworld was, socially, very similar to growing up in 1960's Americana. Except I was in elementary school in the early 2000's, which meant that my social environment was probably most comparable to the 1980s, which television has led me to believe was the era that bullies were required to take mandatory Kung-Fu Dirtbiking courses.

The Water: If there was something in the water, we would still have to drink it.

The Water II: Maybe there's something in everyones water, but it only starts making you into an asshole when you drink a gallon and a half of it a day. Worth considering.

Dumbass Cowboys: Arizona reaaaaaally like its Wild West Heritage. Which in practice means that they are, culturally, very pro-violence. They're an open carry, stand your ground, castle law state, and they have been my entire life. This actually added quite a bit to my elementary school bitterness. It is extremely bizarre to be told, as a child, that you aren't even allowed to swear at people for hitting you while your parents would be allowed to keep shooting until they ran out of bullets. At which point they could call their complimentary NRA lawyer. I have a vague memory of my 3rd grade teacher saying that kids would be much nicer to each other if they were allowed to come to school armed, but alas, Columbine ruined that for everyone. She was actually a very nice lady when she wasn't arguing that children should be allowed to, occasionally, shoot each other. I think she was in her 60's then. Might still be alive.

[mixolya]

HIIIIII 🫶🏻so I thought Yk how sae is bad at this whole PR thing and he’s just very straightforward and not many ppl like it cuz they think he’s rude😭. what if reader was his pr manger😍??? And she like gets pissed off quickly but also gets flustered and why quickly and sae is teasing or wtv

I was like i really wanna read sum like but since I follow lots of bllk writers I didn’t know who to send this 2 so then I thought “who writes sae the best?”then I thought def mixolya so here I am I’d really like it if u wrote this since ur work is really amazing 😭🫶🏻🫶🏻💖

ᓚᘏᗢ — sae itoshi: ice prince !

synopsis: sae itoshi has a pr problem. and you're paid to fix it. too bad he's also the reason you grind your teeth at night and blush like a schoolgirl on the job.

sae itoshi x manager!reader ⭑ fluff + likes & reblogs are appreciated <3

note: thank you sm IM SO HONORED NOW HFUIJKVFKJKV ily

the headline blinks back at you like a neon sign from hell:

SAE ITOSHI: Football's ice prince strikes again - says he 'doesn't care' about fans

you slap your tablet shut. you don't even knock before storming into the training facility, scanning the rows of white training kits until you spot him; the menace in cleats, jogging casually down the sideline like he hasn't just detonated another pr landmine.

"sae!" you call twice after he didn't look the first time.

his head tilts lazily toward you. of course he heard you the first time. he just wanted to make sure you say his name again. you march over, fuming.

"you told the press you don't care about your fans."

"because i don't," he replies coolly, barely breaking stride.

you scoff. "you also said the interviewer's breath smelled like 'expired vanilla milkshake.' what even is that?"

he finally stops, water bottle in hand. "accurate."

"unbelievable," you mutter, rubbing your temples.

"you hired me for honesty, didn't you?"

"you were assigned to me because no one else could handle your media tantrums!"

he takes a sip of water, entirely unfazed. "i don't throw tantrums."

"no, you throw careers off cliffs. mine included."

his eyes finally land on you, sharp eyes meeting your glare. "you're still here though."

"unfortunately."

he quirks a brow. "so why stay?"

you freeze. that smug expression makes your stomach twist. it's always like this with sae, a constant tug-of-war where you're supposed to be the handler and he the genius. and yet here you are, red-faced, pulse racing, hands clenching your clipboard like it's the only thing keeping you grounded.

"why can't you just do as i say for once?" you mutter, spinning on your heel.

"cute."

you whirl back. "what?"

he shrugs. "you get all flustered. it's cute."

"you can't just say things like that to your pr manager!" you hiss.

sae's smile is barely there, but it is there. a rare sight, like a solar eclipse, beautiful yet terrifying, and liable to burn you if you look to long.

"maybe i can," he says softly, like it's a challenge.

⭑

you threaten to quit that night. you don't, of course. because the next morning, you wake up to a trending video of sae at practice gently helping a kid tie their cleats. the caption reads: "Maybe he's not so icy after all?"

you stare at your screen, stunned. was it intentional? and then a text pings from him.

sae: better? + attached photo of him with his bangs down

you stare. you're going to scream.

⭑

(two weeks later)

you're standing backstage at a sponsorship event, briefing him one last time before he goes live.

"no sarcasm," you say, ticking things off on your clipboard. "smile. thank the brand. don't call the ceo's shoes ugly."

"they are though."

"don't care."

he sighs. you glance up, only to realize he's already looking at you. not the room or the stage, you.

and his hair? bangs down.

you blink.

"you did it again," you said.

"what?"

"you put your bangs down."

he smirks. "why wouldn't i?"

"because you hate them."

"i don't hate them. i just didn't care."

"until now?"

he shrugs. "you like them."

you stare at him, chest tightening. and then he leans in just enough for only you to hear.

"by the way," he murmurs, voice low, "if i score in the next game.. i'll point to the camera, is that okay?."

your brows furrow. "do what you want."

"okay, i'll say it's for the 'cutest manager in the league.'"

you don't can't respond. you're frozen in place, clipboard limp at your side, face on fire. and he just walks away, grinning.

imagine he doesn't score

© mixolya 2025. do not copy, remake or edit any of my works.

[maria021015]

Penpals - Part 1

Fred Weasley x FemHufflepuffReader

What happens when Fred’s new owl accidentally sends a letter meant for George to the wrong person? The mysterious recipient might just write him back. And it might end up being the best mistake Fred has ever made.

Part 2 out now.

———————————————————————

To: George (Or so he thought…)

Sent via Owl Post

Oi, George—

I’ve just had a brilliant idea for a new product and couldn’t wait until Madam Pomfrey decides I’m okay to tell you. Picture this: a quill that looks completely ordinary… until someone starts using it, and then - BAM! - it starts dramatically narrating everything they’re doing like an overly enthusiastic announcer at a Quidditch match.

Imagine McGonagall trying to give a lecture with her quill going, “Professor McGonagall is now frowning disapprovingly at a third year who clearly has no idea what she’s doing…oh, and there goes the eyebrow twitch!”

Anyway, we’ll call it Quill of Commentary. Think about it. We can tweak it to be snarky, romantic, heroic - the whole range. I’ll start prototyping this week. You handle the charmwork, I’ll wrangle the packaging.

Also, I may or may not have replaced Ron’s well with disappearing ink again. His reaction was magnificent. You’d think he’d check by now. Honestly, it’s too easy.

Write back when you can - though if you’ve already started testing that Puking Pastille variant again, do us all a favour and test it on yourself first.

Your better half (obviously),

Fred

———————————————————————

To: Fred Weasley.

Sent via Owl Post

Good evening Fred,

I’m assuming the intended recipient of this letter was your (admittedly far more endearing) other half, George.

Unfortunately for both of us, your letter has been sent to the wrong dormitory by your rather confused owl. Though I must say, your Quill of Commentary sounds like an intriguing invention. I must order one (once they’ve been thoroughly tested, of course).

As for poor Ronald, do take some pity on him. After all, I’ve heard he struggles to complete his work without the ink disappearing.

Kind regards,

Your anonymous letter recipient.

———————————————————————

To: The Mystery Mischief-Magnet Who Is Not George

Sent via Very Confused Owl

Well, now this is unexpected.

I must admit, I didn’t anticipate a response from someone with clearly impeccable taste in joke products. And yet, here you are, anonymous and delightfully cheeky. You’ve got me curious now. Not just because you called George the “far more endearing” twin (he’ll be insufferable if he hears that), but because you clearly have a sense of humour…and, dare I say, excellent timing. It does get rather boring being cooped up in the hospital wing.

You read the whole letter, didn’t you? Even the bit about Ron. That’s how I know you’re not a prefect - unless you’re the kind who enjoys a little chaos on the side. In which case, I’m intrigued.

Now, the question is: who are you?

Clearly a student. Intelligent, perhaps? Observant, certainly. Ravenclaw or the better half of Slytherin? Possibly Hufflepuff with a secret streak of mischief. And brave enough to write me back instead of chucking the letter in the bin. Could you be from my own house?

How about a trade? You give me a clue about yourself, and I’ll give you one in return.

Here’s mine: when I was five, I tried to charm Mum’s cooking pots into forming a marching band. It ended in singed eyebrows and a very cross chicken, but I regret nothing.

Your move, Mystery Girl.

Awaiting your next owl with great anticipation,

Fred (the clearly superior twin)

———————————————————————

To: The person who thinks he is the superior twin

Sent via slowly learning owl

‘Unexpected’ is the perfect word for the situation, for I also was not expecting a letter back.

I did indeed read your entire letter, and while I do not participate in (or wholeheartedly agree with) the rule breaking chaos you and your brother often partake in, I must admit it is entertaining for the rest of the student body.

As for your numerous questions - and assumptions - about me…

Well I’m not so keen to give myself up too easily. But I’ll play your little game as I am intrigued to hear more.

A cooking pot marching band sounds dreadful to the ears yet delightful to the soul.

I’m not going to make this easy for you, so you’ll have to pay close attention, but I’ve left a hint pertaining to my house somewhere in this letter. I wonder if you can find it? I await your response with eagerness.

From, your mysterious penpal.

———————————————————————

To: My Mysterious Penpal (who is either very clever, very bold, or both)

Delivered via Owl with a tendency to nip if ignored

I must say, you’ve got a flair for suspense. Subtle clues, a riddle in your words, and now. hidden symbols in the wax seal? You certainly don’t make it easy, but I suppose that’s part of the fun. Most people wouldn’t notice a badger tucked away like that…but most people aren’t me.

So. Hufflepuff, are you?

That narrows it down to roughly…a few dozen people. Brilliant.

You don’t strike me as the type who trips over their shoelaces in Herbology or forgets their wand in the loo. No, you’re one of the sharper ones, the type who sits quietly in the background but has already figured out exactly how many steps it’ll take to sneak out of the castle undetected. I like that. Calculated chaos. My favourite kind.

I’ll take your challenge and raise you: tell me the most rebellious thing you’ve ever done at Hogwarts. No need to incriminate yourself. Just a taste. I’ll even offer one in return:

Once, George and I bewitched every single toilet in the prefect’s bathroom to sing Celestina Warbeck’s greatest hits anytime someone sat down. McGonagall gave us detention for a month, but we got a standing ovation from the Gryffindor common room.

Your turn. And do feel free to make it as vague and infuriatingly cryptic as you like - I’m starting to enjoy the puzzle.

Yours in mischief and mystery,

Fred

———————————————————————

To: A not-so-mysterious man

Sent via Owl who is very polite thank you very much

I’m glad you were perceptive enough to pick up on my hint - Hufflepuff indeed. I fear your expectations of my house mates delve into stereotype. I promise we are not all blundering and forgetful. We are actually splendid at finding things.

Though your assessment about calculated chaos is correct. I, like most people, do enjoy a tad bit of mischief every now and then. Although more often than not I enjoy observing rather than partaking.

The most rebellious act I’ve committed at Hogwarts pales in comparison to your various achievements (which are heard about even deep down in the hufflepuff common room).

I’m afraid the story is not that exciting, but I did once hex that Slytherin git Draco Malfoy for running his mouth about what muggleborns he wanted to be attacked next. Not so brave of me to attack a second year who was two years my junior, but he did deserve it.

Perhaps you could convince me to be a bit more daring?

I believe you’ve asked two questions in a row, making my turn overdue. It’s all well and good to tell me of your various pranking feats, for which you are known for throughout the Hogwarts student body. But the real truth of who you are lies beneath all that. I’d like to dig deeper. Who is Fred Weasley, really? The boy behind the prank master. Tell me, what is something the rest of us don’t know about you?

Sincerely, your mystery hufflepuff.

———————————————————————

To: The Surprisingly Fiery Badger in Disguise

Delivered via owl who seems to like you more than me now (traitor)

Well, well, hexing Draco Malfoy, were you?

I take back what I said about you being the quiet type. That’s the kind of rebellion that earns you a secret round of applause in the corridors, even if the professors pretend not to notice. Trust me, I know the sound of a muffled cheer when I hear one. For the record, I’d call that brave, not cruel. Sometimes people need a reminder they’re not as untouchable as they think.

Now, as for convincing you to be more daring…challenge accepted. I’d wager there’s a whole world of untapped chaos lurking in you, waiting to be unleashed. And when it is, I’d like to be there to see it. Or possibly help. Definitely help.

You’ve turned the tables on me though, and fair’s fair.

Who am I behind the gags and firecrackers?

Well. Most people see the jokes and assume that’s all there is. Loud, laughing, a bit reckless. But the truth is: pranks are just another kind of magic. They’re distractions. Shields. Ways to twist something heavy into something light. And when things get too dark - too real - I’d rather make someone laugh than let them feel the weight of it all.

There’s something else not many people know: I actually like working late at night, when the castle’s asleep. That quiet, that calm, it’s when ideas come alive. The fireworks, the products, the laughter…they’re all born in the silence.

So there you have it. A little honesty from the Weasley with the wildest hair and the biggest plans.

Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to uphold.

Now, I’ll trade you for another clue. You’ve got sharp wit and a hidden temper, but tell me: if you weren’t at Hogwarts, what would you be doing? No magic, no wands. Just you, out in the world.

Curious as ever,

Fred

———————————————————————

To: The boy behind the wild hair and nature

Sent via my new best friend

As far as vulnerability goes you certainly exceeded my expectations. Perhaps you aren’t as difficult of a book to read as I originally thought.

I’d always imagined your love and flair for the dramatic and fantastical was a way to seek attention and stand out among a family where I assume it would be easy to disappear, given there are so many of you. But your real reason is rather…endearing. In truth I find it quite admirable. We all need a little bit of light in the darkness, now more than ever with the recent attacks at the Quidditch World Cup. I’m happy that you are there to bring that light back into everyone’s lives at Hogwarts.

I enjoy working late at night in the dark and quiet as well. It is easier to think when the world is asleep. It brings a certain kind of peace that is hard to find at Hogwarts among the hustle and bustle. And do not worry, your secrets are safe with me. We Hufflepuffs are an honest and loyal bunch.

If I were to be out in the muggle world I imagine I’d like to go into healthcare. Learn how to help people, heal them. Though I suppose that’s not too different from what I want to do in the wizarding world.

What would you want to be if magic did not exist?

Equally as intrigued,

Mystery Badger

———————————————————————

To: The Healer in Hufflepuff’s Den

Delivered by an owl now carrying your letters with far too much pride (I think it’s showing off)

Well, that might be the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all term.

And yes, you’re not wrong about the whole “Weasley chaos” theory. It’s rather easy to become another blur of red hair and hand-me-down jumpers in a family like mine. So I suppose I turned up the volume a bit. Not to be seen, exactly, but to make something mine. George and I…we found our way by making people laugh. But you’re the first to look underneath all that and say it out loud.

That’s rather bold of you, Mystery Girl.

I like it.

And I especially like the sound of you being a healer. You’ve got the soul for it, I can tell from the way you speak. Thoughtful. Grounded. The kind of person who’d stay up through the night to make sure someone felt just a bit less alone. Magic or not, the world could use more of that. More of you.

As for me…no magic, huh?

That’s tough. I think I’d still want to create. Something loud and ridiculous and a little brilliant. I’d probably try to make jokes for a living. Maybe sketch things, invent weird little gadgets that no one needs but everyone wants the moment they see it. Something to remind people that life doesn’t always have to be so serious. That it can still be fun.

And if I’m being really honest…I’d want to make something that makes people remember me. Not for fame. Just so they smile, even for a second. Like, “That bloke Fred? Yeah…he was daft, but he made the world a bit brighter.”

So.

Another layer peeled back. Your move.

Next question, for you: If you could take me anywhere at Hogwarts - your favourite spot, your best-kept secret place - where would we go?

(And before you say the kitchens, I’m already quite familiar, thank you very much. The house-elves adore me.)

Yours, more intrigued than ever,

Fred

———————————————————————

To: Fred, the boy who made me smile today.

Sent via Owl that deserves to be proud

Your words were unexpectedly sweet for someone with such a roguish reputation. Perhaps your charm is why the ladies at Hogwarts love you.

Who knows, maybe one day you’ll be in need of my healing services, with all of your dangerous experimentations.

I could certainly see you as any and all of those things you described. It’s exceedingly honourable to simply want to make the world a better place with laughter - something so simple but something so often overlooked. I can tell you that your mission has succeeded today. I witnessed your little stunt in Herbology and while Professor Sprout may not have been impressed, I certainly was.

As for my favourite secret spot at Hogwarts…your guess was close. The kitchens are a close second, and the house elves have indeed told me about your midnight escapades. Though they may not have used the word ‘adore’ when describing you. Again, another secret of yours that I hold close to my chest. My favourite spot has to be the astronomy tower at dusk or sunrise. I love watching the colours that bleed across the sky. You’ll have to try it sometime.

And for my question, I heard you tried to enter your name into the Goblet of Fire this week and it ended in an unfortunate prunage of the skin and greying of the hair. Tell me, are you a handsome old man Weasley? But in all seriousness, why did you want to enter?

Looking forward to your response,

A smiling Hufflepuff

———————————————————————

To: The Hufflepuff Who’s Made This Whole Mad Castle Feel a Little Less Mad

Delivered by one very smug owl who now refuses to carry anything but your letters. I’m considering a name for him. Something noble. Like Earl.

You saw that, did you? The Herbology stunt?

In my defense, the Venomous Tentacula did not need to be that dramatic. I gave it a party hat, not a reason to attack. Though I suppose, in its own way, it was participating in the celebration. Of what, I haven’t decided. Tuesday, maybe. Or life. Plants are unpredictable like that.

And you, my mysterious healer, have a dangerous gift for making me grin like an idiot when no one’s watching. I’ve read your letter three times now, and I’ve got half a mind to find that astronomy tower this weekend just to see if the sky looks as lovely as you describe - or if it only gets that way when you’re up there.

Now, to your question.

Yes. George and I may have tried to skirt the age line around the Goblet of Fire. I’m not entirely fond of what happened. Mostly because I now know exactly what I’ll look like in seventy years, and frankly, I was hoping for a little less nose hair. But you asked why we tried, not how miserably it failed.

Truth is…it wasn’t about glory. Not entirely.

I mean, sure, part of it was the thrill of it - the chance to prove we’re not just class clowns. That we could do something bold and win. But also…I think I just wanted to shake things up. Show people we’re more than the punchlines they expect. That we can fight for something. That we will. The gold prize would have been nice too.

But maybe that’s a silly answer. Or maybe it isn’t. I suppose you’ll be the judge.

Now it’s my turn again, isn’t it?

Tell me this: what’s the one thing you wish people noticed about you, but never seem to?

No rush.

The sky will still be there when you’re ready.

Yours - still slightly grey, still quite proud,

Fred

———————————————————————

To: My still-grey Griffindor

Via Earl

I’ve grown rather fond of Earl, though I think he likes me even more. But that may have something to do with the extra fruit snacks I feed him.

I’m glad I’m not the only one reading our little secret letters with a smile on my face. My friends are starting to get nosy and ask questions. Don’t worry, I keep my lips shut tight about our secret conversations.

You should make a visit to the astronomy tower this weekend. I can’t promise I will be there but I may leave something for you to find. If you can, that is.

As for your reasons to enter the tournament, you needn’t concern yourself with what others think. It may not mean much coming from someone you don’t even know, but if you want my opinion, I think you and George are both extremely gifted academically. The spells and skills that are required for the level of magic used to execute your pranks and make your products is extraordinary. You are far more than class clowns.

Not many people do notice me to be fair, and the people who do don’t seem to like me very much. Of course I have my close circle of friends - Luna, Cedric, and now perhaps you?

Something I wish people did notice was that I may seem like a bitch, but I am seldom cruel for the fun of it. I simply have very strong personal morals that I hate to see broken. If there is an injustice I will do my best to right it.

As for this week’s question, Fred, will you be at the first task on Sunday? I want to know if I should keep an eye out for you in the crowd. Perhaps I’ll come say hi, though I imagine I’d be quite hard to point out in the crowd of girls who do so.

Well wishes from the hufflepuff who notices you.

———————————————————————

To: The Hufflepuff Who Notices More Than Most

Delivered by Earl, who now refuses to leave without a snack and a scratch behind the wing (I’ve created a monster)

You have no idea how tempting that astronomy tower invitation is.

I’d say you’re cruel for teasing it, but something tells me you’re the type who prefers the thrill of the chase to the prize itself. Which is very unfair of you, considering how terribly impatient I am. But all right, Mystery Girl. I’ll play your game. If I do find something up there, I’ll consider it a sign that I’ve earned a little more of your truth.

And thank you, for what you said about me and George. Most people laugh and dismiss what we do as silly, but you saw the work in it. The craft. That means more to me than I can properly write in a letter. I think you’ve got a habit of seeing through the noise, don’t you?

Now then.

You may not be the easiest person to spot in a crowd, but something tells me I’d know you if I saw you. You’ve got a presence, even in ink. I’ll be at the first task, yes. Somewhere near the front. Probably shouting something highly inappropriate and getting side-eyed by McGonagall. If you’re there, look for the bloke who’s too loud, wearing Gryffindor colours, and scanning the crowd like he’s trying to find something he’s not supposed to see.

Because I will be looking for you. And if you come say hi…I’ll know.

Not because of your house colours but because I think I’ll feel it. The way I feel it now, when your words show up in my hand and suddenly the world feels a bit warmer.

As for what you said, you’re not cruel. You’re fierce. Loyal. And maybe a little sharp around the edges. But only because you care more than most. People like that? They’re the ones worth holding on to.

Now, for your next question:

If you could ask me anything face to face, no matter how bold or personal - what would it be?

Yours until Sunday (and hopefully after),

Fred

[ladyrosemone]

Not the chose one

Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.

∗⋅✧⋅∗ ──── ∗⋅✧⋅∗ ──── ∗⋅✧⋅∗∗⋅✧⋅∗ ──── ∗⋅✧⋅∗ ──── ∗⋅✧⋅∗∗⋅✧⋅∗

LADS x No-Mc

∗⋅✧⋅∗ ──── ∗⋅✧⋅∗ ──── ∗⋅✧⋅∗∗⋅✧⋅∗ ──── ∗⋅✧⋅∗ ──── ∗⋅✧⋅∗∗⋅✧⋅∗

Before all this, you'd never really thought about fate.

You're not someone who believes in coincidences, or past lives, or anything that's fanciful and bordering on insanity, no, you operate like the world does: with proof. If someone says something, you have to prove it to believe it, see it and feel it to know they mean it, and so far, it's worked out wonderfully for you.

A little too well, and the saying goes, too much of anything is bad.

The first was a doctor, you met him at that first aid course your friend taught as part of his internship at a hospital; he was handsome and intelligent, sensible and down-to-earth. The romance was slow but no less passionate, where every detail spoke a thousand words, and the moments together were so special that their absences didn't feel heavy.

Until it wasn't enough because of a new person.

He said she was a childhood friend, then that she was a regular patient (conveniently forgetting that he was the one who took her on as an immediate patient), and then he didn't even deny his feelings for her.

Leaving him was painful but not difficult, life doesn't end because of a broken heart.

But then your savior arrived (literally), a hunter from the Hunters' Association who take care of wanderers saved you from being devoured by one. Meeting him was like unlocking a new character in your life, you'd bump into him in the most random places! And most of the time, he was dozing or on lookout duty. Getting close was easy; letting himself be known was the real challenge; but that never stopped you, and the reward was worth it, love with him felt out of this world, like traveling to another galaxy and shining among the stars.

Until your star turned into a meteor.

You don't believe in divine coincidences, but when he started showing up late, going on more missions with a new partner, and stopping coming to your house to sleep, your instincts (or unresolved trauma) made you aware of the coincidences until he confessed to having an interest in this new hunter, who wanted to set things right. Did it hurt? Like shit, this time something more than your heart was hurt. Your pride, maybe? Well, it was only twice. They say the third time's the charm, right? Let's see if it's true.

The opportunity presented itself at an art gallery; it's not your strongest area, but you don't mind letting new experiences in, especially now that the days have become more bearable after your breakup, which wasn't really because you weren't formally together, the terrible ones almost something.

You didn't expect to meet the artist of all the works on display that night, nor to have offended him with your limited knowledge of art, canvases, and brushstrokes. Luckily, he didn't take it (so) personally, and the night passed with the artist talking about his works while you listened half-heartedly. The dates were quick, loving him was swift, like fire spreading in a forest, fiery and lively, but there were also times when loving him was like floating in the sea, calm and thoughtful, a warm embrace from the tides that lull you to sleep.

Did you forget to never let your guard down on the open sea? Apparently that includes people too.

Suddenly, the fire between you faded, dates weren't frequent, the sea that rocked you now turned into waves that dragged you to the bottom where its light was lost, and the day you feared most (but hoped for) arrived with a text message.

<<"This isn't going to work out">>

That bastard…he really broke up with you via text message, and the worst part was seeing him walking around with a girl in his arms. When you least expected it (and you really didn't expect it), a criminal leader appeared.

Yeah, you didn't even know him first.

It turns out that when a robotic crow lands in your yard, calling animal services doesn't work; luckily, following instructions was never a problem, and with a few YouTube videos, the not-robot-bird worked like a charm. Did you know that crows remember faces and reward those who helped them? Well, you knew when he kept showing up in your neighborhood, attacking squirrels that steal seeds from (real) birds, bringing you precious stones (where does he get that from?!), and even letting you pet him when you came up for air.

That's when two guys showed up at your house "voluntarily" taking you with their boss to area N109. It turns out their boss isn't just any person, he's a CRIMINAL boss, leader of the Onychinus group, who deal in things that are neither legal nor ethical. Having fixed his crow without asking questions or involving the police (animal welfare was an honest mistake) impressed him and made him interested in you. Whether that was good or bad, time will tell.

And the time you spent together was, against all odds, the calmest time you've had in years.

A total gentleman, protective of your safety, treating you equally while also pampering you, intelligent, a provider, the literary trope of "I hate everyone except you" , you enjoyed it very much. After a disastrous love life, it was a sigh of relief to have a man you could see a future with. Even the twins loved you! They were like your younger brothers (if you'd had any).

There are already too many coincidences; at this point, it must be a pattern.

Do you have to guess? The signs were there! As soon as you identified the first sign, you left, you fled, without the strength to endure another <<"This isn't going to work">> or <<"I have feelings for her">> or your favorite! <<"It was always her"> >

You didn't even say goodbye to the twins or the funny crow who would definitely have gone with you if you hadn't installed an update on his hard drive, an app that made his eyes change color like a disco ball.

Love was off the table, dating, men (Ugh!), anything that has to do with dating someone else is out.

Saying it is always easier.

You met the colonel in a park, yes, a park. It turns out you were passing by just getting some fresh air; he was feeling blue, boom! The next thing you know, you're on an unauthorized tour of his ship and then flying through the sky into space.

That's what it felt like to be with him: adrenaline and speed, but also home and strength, a refuge to turn to when memories became heavy and nightmares felt real. They became each other's rock, sharing their fears, their worries, and their sorrows, creating happy memories that would overshadow the bad times.

Why don't you learn? There's even a Greek myth that talks about it, Icarus, remember? Flying too close to the sun will burn you.

- I'm sorry

- I know

You should be used to it, It shouldn't hurt like the first time, you should have expected it, you convince yourself of all this, and yet, as soon as you arrive at your half-empty apartment (because some of your things are at their house), you burst into tears against the front door.

Why does this keep happening? Why are they leaving? Why do you keep letting your heart fall if you already know how it's going to end? Are these clues? Is life trying to tell you that love isn't for you? Are you the woman in the process? If so, it's not fair.

They shouldn't practice on you; they shouldn't talk to you sweetly and make you blush, they shouldn't play with your hair before bed, they shouldn't know your likes and dislikes, they shouldn't know that you don't like pickles because they give you allergies, they shouldn't kiss you, they shouldn't make you feel like the only one because in the end you won't be, you'll be the one with whom they've perfected all that, they'll be the best version of themselves for someone else, someone you were never going to do.

And now you're in your apartment, with the lights off, the moon peeking out as if interested in your pain, crying because another man chose to love another woman over you, because once again you weren't the chosen one, you were the path to the other woman. Once again, you are not the winner.

That's why you don't believe in destiny, or astral coincidences, or soulmates, because in the end, no one can prove to you that they're real. All you have to do is learn from real life, and real life taught you that you won't be enough, that you don't have a destination at the end of the road, or a soulmate across the street, or anything waiting for you on the other side of the world.

It's you, it's only you, and it will always be only you. It's time to realize that and accept it once and for all.

∗⋅✧⋅∗ ──── ∗⋅✧⋅∗ ──── ∗⋅✧⋅∗∗⋅✧⋅∗ ──── ∗⋅✧⋅∗ ──── ∗⋅✧⋅∗∗⋅✧⋅∗

[towasdandelion]

Frostheim and Mortkranken ghouls when you tease them all day

This is nsfw!! You've been warned, if you're a minor scroll away pretty please (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)

Jin is surprised by your boldness at first. He's curious to see how far you can take it. When you bend over in front of him the first time he just raises an eyebrow. When you do that the nth time that day his patience starts to waver. It's not like he's not enjoying it because he is, and that is the problem. He can't focus on anything, he's losing his composure. Enough. With one practiced movement you're thrown over his shoulder and carried to his bedroom. Good luck cause you'll need it not to go crazy when he fucks you into the mattress.

Tohma loves games. And something about you trying to be discreet and sneaky is so cute. He sees right through you right away, only letting out an amused sigh as if saying "there she goes again". He doesn't really mind a distraction once in a while, if anything it's a welcome one. His eyes will follow your every movement, already looking forward to a moment where it's just you two. Because that's when the real game begins. Are you being praised or punished when he's hitting that sweet spot over and over? Who cares as long as you finally get what you wanted.

Kaito is pretty sure you're trying to send him into a cardiac arrest. Cause what are you doing being all sexy, bending over in front of his face like that? It's.. not going to take a lot of him to become a sweatting mess. But he's overthinking. What if you just want to tease him but will actually get mad if touches you? What if he's not supposed to give in? It's hard, so hard to resist but he does, only looking at you with pleading eyes when you do it again. I guess it's not clear enough for him yet so do him a favor and just pull him away from whatever he's doing to bring him some relief (sit on his face).

Luca is a bit worried at first. Are you having wardrobe malfunction? Do you even know your skirt is too short? It's not long after that it finally clicks - you're trying to seduce him. And oh boy is it working. He's not able to take his eyes off you, mumbling silent praises at the sight in front of him. He loves admiring your body and making you feel like the most beautiful girl in the whole world. Despite the teasing having a strong effect on him, he's not going to do anything until he has your clear consent. And who are you to decline when he's asking so nicely?

Jiro's mind goes blank at the sight of you bending over like that. He's hoping it wasn't just an accident. And when it happens again, he knows. A small, almost imperceptible smile appears on his lips. His job? Oh, he forgot. He's going to try getting back to it, only to have the dirtiest things on his mind. It's like his brain is detached from his body. His hands keep mixing the concoction with automated practiced moves while in his head, he's wondering how should he take you today. If you're not careful enough you might just end up bent over the desk in the lab. He wants you? He takes you (if you let him of course) - simple.

Yuri is... He doesn't even know what to feel. His body is obviously feeling excitement but his mind is a mess. An embarrassed mess. Your seductive moves are like a sweet torture to him. He can't. He can't admit to himself that the sight of your body is driving him crazy. He's a doctor, a professional! He shouldn't be swayed so easily! And yet, he lets out a small whine the next time you brush past him. Poor guy just can't take it anymore. Please just help him out already. Sit him down and work your magic. No more teasing!

[hyunjincanraptoo]

Dress is karma, perfume regret- L.MH

Requested by my baby @skzaddictsincedebut. It was supposed to be a Hyunjin fic but as we talked, turned to be a Minho fic hehe I hope you like it, baby 💜

Pairing: non idol!Hyunjin x non idol!Minho x reader

Word count: 6.7k

Warnings: multiple sex scenes, sex in a public place, dom!Hyunjin, rebound relationship, Minho is a bit possessive in a few moments 

Alexa, play Attention by Charlie Puth

Hyunjin told you he was over her.

He said it like it didn’t matter anymore, like the sentence itself had been chewed over and over until the taste was gone.

 “She’s gone”, he whispered once, not to reassure you, but himself. His eyes were hollow, red at the rims. You could smell the cigarettes on his hoodie, and somewhere beneath that, the truth he carried like a secret he never meant to reveal.

You nodded, letting him believe it— letting yourself believe it too. Because you needed to.

There were no dates, no titles, just dark rooms, late hours, mouths colliding in desperation. He kissed you like he didn’t want to remember someone else but never like he wanted to remember you either.

Still, you stayed— always.

When he touched you, it felt like you weren’t just a rebound. It felt like maybe you were helping him heal. Like maybe, if you were soft enough, patient enough, he’d fall for you by accident.

He said he stopped going to parties for you, that things with you were “getting serious”.

You never questioned the glitter on his sleeves, the smudged lip gloss you didn’t wear. You ignored the 2 a.m. messages lighting up his phone, the perfume that didn’t belong to you when he swore he just went to grab a drink with friends.

He’d say, “You’re the only one I see”, and you’d bite your tongue until it bled. Because if you asked questions, he might leave. And he was all you had left.

But it was always about her. Always her.

“Do you think she still goes out with Mingi?” 

 “I heard she changed her number. What kind of person just… disappears?”

“Her friend posted a picture. I swear that’s her jacket”

Even though it hurt you, you just brushed it off, changed the subject, memorized her name like a hymn you didn’t believe in.

And still, you stayed. Love, you told yourself, could grow in ruins.

Until one night, your body gave out—- feverish, you could barely stand. Your hands shook as you typed the message.

You [6:18pm]: I feel really sick. Can you come over?

He didn’t reply. But you saw the stories— Hyunjin on a rooftop with Felix and Jeongin. A drink in one hand, a wide smile on his face like nothing else mattered— like you didn’t matter. That’s when something in you broke. 

The next morning, still burning with fever and humiliation, you sent one final message:

You [8:03 am] : Do you really love me, like you say you do?

You looked at your phone for hours. The screen stayed dark—  your heart, even darker.

And then, hours later, he finally answered:

Hyun💜 [10:36pm] : I’m trying

Not yes, not no, not I’m sorry— trying. Like love was homework, like you were a task he never planned to finish.

You blocked him, deleted the messages, the playlists. Sat on your bathroom floor and sobbed like your ribs were cracking open.

But your heart didn’t get the memo— it kept beating like he might still come back.

✧˖*°࿐

A week passed, then ten days. Still, you didn’t cry. Not because it didn’t hurt but because you were too hollow to do so. You saw Hyunjin in places that didn’t make sense— the detergent aisle, the back of a taxi, the doorway of Jisung’s apartment when he opened it with open arms and didn’t ask questions.

Then, late one night, there was a knock on your door— Hyunjin.

He didn’t say a word at first. Just stood there, wet from the rain, eyeliner smudged under his eyes. You almost didn’t let him in, but you did— of course you did. Because love is stupid like that.

He said all the things you used to beg to hear: “I miss you. I don’t want anyone else, I’m ready this time. Please let me prove it”.

You shouldn’t have believed him. You wanted to tell him to leave you alone— you should’ve. But when love has been starvation, even crumbs can feel like a feast.

So you kissed him— let him stay the night. Let him into your bed, into your heart, even without knowing if he still deserved to be there.

At first, he was different— he brought you flowers, called you instead of texting, told you he hadn’t been with anyone since, said your absence felt like a hole in his ribs.

And for a while, you believed it. Until the nights got longer again, the silences asphyxiating,  the lies messier.

He still stayed out late, ignored your messages, still talked about her. And one night, finally, it broke.

It started small, you asked where he’d been. He flinched, didn’t answer. 

You asked again, voice quieter this time, terrified of the answer. That’s when he snapped

“What, you don’t trust me now?! God, you’re always checking me like I’m some fucking criminal”

Your jaw tensed, “What do you expect? You keep lying to me”

“Oh, right!”, he scoffed, “Because you know everything, huh? Always so perfect, so patient, acting like some damn martyr just because you put up with me!”

Your throat closed, but you didn’t look away, “I’ve loved you through everything! Through every time you left me guessing, every time you swore you were over her and then said her name in your sleep!”

His mouth twisted, “Don’t bring her up!”

“Why not?”, you snapped, voice breaking, “She’s always here, Hyunjin! In every silence, in every night you come home tasting like someone else!”

“That’s not fair, Yn”

“Neither is giving everything to someone who only half shows up, Hyunjin”

He stepped back like you slapped him, “You think I wanted to feel like this, huh? Like I’m never enough for anyone? You think I enjoy being this messed up?”

You blinked fast,  “Then why make me proof of it? Why break me just to prove you’re still broken?”

His chest heaved, “I didn’t ask you to fall for me”

You paused, then said it.

“It’s not like you will ever let me”

The silence grew thicker between you.

His voice came lower, colder, “Maybe we should stop this. Before we ruin each other”

“No”, you whispered, holding back the tears, “You already ruined me, Hyunjin”

Your legs gave out right there in the hallway. You slid down the wall like your bones had turned to water, arms curling around yourself as your vision blurred. Your breath came in short, panicked gasps.

But he didn’t move— didn’t kneel, didn’t touch you. Just stood there, like watching you fall apart was easier than catching you.

That night, you left. No more words or apologies. Just an emptiness that lingered.

✧˖*°࿐

You cried for three days.

Not all at once, grief isn't so merciful. It came in fragments, like tiny glass pieces you found all over the house.

The first time was in Han’s apartment, where you’d been crashing on his couch. He handed you a grilled cheese sandwich with a post it that said "cheese heals" and you laughed so hard you started crying. He didn't flinch, just sat down beside you and offered a paper towel.

The second time, you found Hyunjin’s hoodie in your dirty laundry. You held it to your face, breathed in the scent of him, and then cried so hard your body ached for hours after.

The third was the softest, barely a sound. You just looked at yourself in the mirror, red eyed and hollow, and whispered, “I can’t do this anymore”. Then you didn’t leave the bed for a day and a half.

Han never pushed, he just kept showing up. With soup, dumb jokes, the Netflix password he stole from Chan. And when he caught you trying to rewatch old videos of Hyunjin, he gently closed your laptop and said, “Okay. You can cry now, we’ll figure out what to do with the sadness later”

You never figured it out. But eventually the weight shifted anyway.

✧˖*°࿐

Days passed in a blur. You still flinched at notifications, still woke up thinking it was Hyunjin at the door.

But then one night, two weeks later, Jisung dragged you to a gig at a small venue, where Jeongin’s band was playing, to "touch some grass." You still wore your sadness like a winter coat— long sleeves, collar up to hide the bruising underneath.

Jeongin was there looking like chaos in eyeliner and cut sleeves, scolding the tech guy about the lighting. You were just trying not to run into someone acquainted when a voice cut through the noise.

“Hey”, someone said, “You’re Han’s best friend, aren’t you?”

You turned.

Minho. Han already talked about him— slim, not very tall, with soft glowing black hair, and a flawless face

“Didn’t expect you to survive this long around his sense of humor. The guy’s like a washed up comedian with no jokes left”

You blinked, caught off guard.

“You’re Minho, right? The one from the band”

“The one and only”, he extended a hand mocking formality, “Lee Minho. Chaos incarnate, occasional guitarist, permanent menace”

For your own surprise— you laughed. It caught in your throat, unusual, but it was real. He tilted his head at you, amused.

“See?”, he said, eyes glinting, “Told Han I’d get a laugh out of you before the night ended”

You let out a weak laugh, “Guess "I haven’t exactly been a fountain of joy lately”

His smile didn’t falter, “Everyone’s been there. Some of us just silence it with louder lies”

 “You don’t have to tell me what happened”, he said, “But I hope it didn’t make you feel small”

You looked at him and maybe that was the first time in a while you felt seen.

That night, you talked. Just a little, enough to make you feel noticed.

Minho didn’t ask about Hyunjin, didn’t make you feel like your sadness needed to be hidden. And for the first time in forever— you fell asleep without replaying every terrible thing Hyunjin ever said or done.

You started seeing Minho more. Not dating, not quite. But he’d walk you home after shows, show up with bubble tea before you even asked. Brush your hair out of your eyes like it wasn’t a big deal.

And maybe it wasn’t. But to you, it felt like life was worth living again.

✧˖*°࿐

Minho didn’t try to fix you. He wasn’t soft about it, either. He was teasing, annoying, an expert at breaking your walls down one joke at a time. When you sulked in the corner, he threw popcorn at you. When you frowned too long, he told you your “resting heartbreak face” made Seonghwa— the bassist— cry.

He didn’t hold your sadness, but he didn’t ignore it either. He just existed beside it like someone unafraid of walking through your storm without an umbrella.

And over time, your laugh stopped sounding forced. You started choosing the clothes you liked again, picking your own coffee instead of Hyunjin’s order, listening to your own songs in the car. It stopped feeling like you were the victim and started feeling like you were the protagonist of your own story— finally taking the lead in the life you’d been living on pause.

You realized that on a soft afternoon. You were leaning against Minho’s car outside the venue with a melting cup of ice cream in one hand. He said something dumb and you shoved him playfully, making the cup tilt dangerously close to his shirt. He retaliated by stealing a bite and making a dramatic sound

“You’re such a menace”, you said, grinning.

He grinned back, lazily, “Takes one to know one”

Suddenly, he paused.

“You’ve got… wait”, he pointed, reaching up with the back of his knuckle, “Ice cream. Right there”

You blinked. His fingers brushed the corner of your mouth— too slow to be innocent, too warm to be friendly.

“Sloppy”, he murmured, thumb ghosting your bottom lip 

Your breath caught. He must’ve felt it, because he didn’t pull his hand back. Not right away.

Instead, his gaze dropped— mouth to eyes, eyes to mouth. Like a question, like a maybe.

You nodded. 

Minho kissed you carefully, like the first note of a song he didn’t quite know how to play. At first, you hesitated— caught between doubt and memory— but when you kissed him back with certainty, that was all he needed.

His hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer until your ice cream cup was squished somewhere between you, completely forgotten. You cupped his jaw, fingers tracing the line over his jaw, catching on the rough patch that hadn’t been shaved. It wasn’t fireworks or crashing waves— it was the kind of kiss that made you feel quiet inside.

Like nothing else was asking to be heard.

When you pulled back, your forehead rested against his. Both of you breathless, neither of you saying what it meant.

But you genuinely smiled for the first time in weeks.

And across the street, unseen in the shadows— Hyunjin stood frozen.

You were laughing, you were kissing someone else.

And for the first time, Hyunjin tasted the bitterness of a goodbye he didn’t get to say.

✧˖*°࿐

It had been hours since the kiss, and the quiet between you and Minho still felt tender.

You sat on the hood of his car, legs stretched out beside his, empty ice cream cups forgotten between you. Minho leaned back on his palms, facing the stars. He wasn’t looking at you, but he was thinking about you. You could feel it in the silence.

“Wanna talk about it?”, he asked eventually.

You glanced sideways, “The kiss?”

He smirked, a breath of a laugh escaping,  “No, but now I kinda want to”

You nudged his knee with yours, hiding your smile, “What, then?”

He flicked a glance at you, “Hyunjin. I saw you freeze when I leaned in, like you remembered him”

Your breath caught, just for a second

 “I did”, you admitted, “But not in the way you think”

“Then tell me”

You picked at a tear in your jeans, “I used to think that if I moved on, it would mean I forgave everything. But when you kissed me, it wasn’t about forgetting him. It was about…”, you paused, “Letting myself want something else. Something better”

Minho turned to you fully, touching your ankle lightly with his fingers

“I’m not trying to fix anything”, he said, “I just like being the person who makes you laugh again… and kiss occasionally”

“You’re more than that”, you murmured.

The words lingered between you, dangerous. Then Minho cleared his throat,  “Okay, before I combust, let’s talk about something stupid and distracting. Like what you’re wearing to Jeongin’s party this weekend?”

You blinked, “Jeongin’s birthday is this weekend?!”

“Saturday. Whole band’s going. Han said you might not show”

“Yeah”, you said honestly, “Didn’t want to deal with Hyunjin acting like some post breakup martyr”

Minho scoffed, “You mean his ‘I suddenly want to change and be a better man’ performance act II ?”

“Exactly that one”

You paused for a few seconds, then your lips curled in a wicked smile,  “What if I do go?”

Minho raised a brow, “What changed?”

You looked over at him with something devilish in your eyes, “What if I show up like I don’t remember how much he hurt me? Like he’s not even worth the pain. What if I make him feel like a leftover?” 

Minho’s gaze sharpened.

You sat up straighter,  “What if I wear something unforgivably hot? Like a revenge dress. You know the kind”

His jaw tensed but you kept going

“Red, short, backless. Or maybe something black, silk, sinful. Something that screams I’m not yours anymore”

Minho exhaled through his nose, “You’re enjoying this a little too much”

“You said to distract you!”

“I didn’t mean with fantasies that’ll make me want to lock you in a closet for my sanity's sake”

You laughed, “What? Are you jealous?”

He met your gaze then, quiet and piercing, “Yes”

It came out light, but your breath caught anyway

“But I’ll help”, he added, and his voice got rougher, “If this is what you need to do to get over him, then I’ll be the one zipping you into that stupid dress”

“You’re not scared I’ll like the attention?”, you teased

“I’m scared I’ll like it too much”, Minho said, “That I’ll forget it’s not about me”

He looked away, cleary bothered

You slid off the hood and stood in front of him, “Maybe… it’s not only about Hyunjin”

Minho looked at you like he wanted to believe it. Like the words touched a place he didn’t realize was sore.

“I’ll pick you up at eight”, he said finally, standing tall in front of you, “But if anyone touches you, I’m throwing hands. Even if it’s Jeongin. It’s his birthday, not a free pass”

You laughed, “That’s fine by me… Thanks, Minho”

He didn’t say you’re welcome. He just nodded once, and reached out like he might tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, then thought better of it. But the gesture lingered— like the memory of his kiss, like something still waiting to bloom.

✧˖*°࿐

The zipper stuck halfway up your spine. You stood in front of the mirror, arms twisted, fingertips slipping on the silk as it clung to you like steam on a mirror when Minho’s voice cut through the room

“Let me”

You stepped aside without saying a word. Minho stepped closer, his fingers brushing the base of your spine— warm and cautiously. He didn’t speak, didn’t rush, just followed the curve of your back with care, dragging the zipper upward like he was sealing some type of relic. 

You looked like sin in that dress— black silk, sleeveless, shoulders bare, the fabric hugging your ribs and waist. The fabric slid down your thighs, revealing a glimpse of skin through the high side slit— just enough to tease, like a secret begging to be spilled.

It was not just a dress— it was a blade. And Minho felt every inch of its cut.

You caught his gaze in the mirror— fixed on you, dark and unreadable. His jaw flexed, lips pressed tight, Adam’s apple bobbed once as he swallowed.

“You look like a threat”, he murmured, voice rough.

You tilted your head slightly, “That bad?”

“That good”

But his words were tight like they hurt to say.

You turned to face him, your hand rising slowly, fingers brushing his collar, smoothing down his chest. Just enough for him to feel the heat beneath his shirt.

“You hate this”, you said, soft as velvet.

He didn’t answer— he didn't need to.

“You hate that I’m wearing this for a room Hyunjin will be in”

Your gaze lingered on him. On the way his fingers twitched at his sides, how his jaw tensed as if grinding down the urge to scream.

You leaned in, so close your breath brushed his neck, “Do you want to hate me a little more… or forget he exists for a minute?”

His brow lifted in confusion as you dropped to your knees.

The air left his lungs, “What are you…”

“Shh”, you said with your fingers already on his belt.

He didn’t move, just watched, locked in place, pupils blown wide as you unbuckled him. You pushed his pants down enough, shifted the fabric aside, and found him already half hard. 

You stroked him slowly, with purpose, like he was something to be adored, not undone. You kissed the head softly. Then again, tongue flicking just enough to make his hips twitch forward.

He groaned— low and gutural, a sound pulled from somewhere deep.

“You’re not helping me forget”, he choked out, one hand cradling your jaw.

You looked up, lips still barely wrapped around him, “No?”

“You’re making it worse”

But his hand tightened on your jaw. Not pushing or  guiding— asking, needing.

You hummed around him, taking more of his length, letting your throat stretch and burn as he slipped deeper, inch by inch. He cursed under his breath, completely broken, as you kept going until he was buried deep and your eyes filled with tears.

His other hand found your hair, just to hold— to ground himself.

You felt him tremble as you worked him cruelly— lips slick, tongue precise, hands unstoppable. You felt the moment his self control snapped— the way his breath hitched, the curse choked back, the way his hips stuttered forward once, then twice. He didn’t last much longer.

And when his orgasm hitted, you swallowed everything.

As you stood up again, you swiped your mouth with the back of your hand, eyes locked on his, lips curved into something wicked.

He grabbed you with both hands, yanked you in and kissed you like he was trying to brand you with his mouth. His palms found your waist, your back, your ass— squeezing, grounding himself in your body, even as the fabric slipped beneath his grip.

“I still hate that you’re wearing it”, he growled against your mouth.

“I know”

“But if you’re going to walk into that party looking like vengeance…”, his eyes narrowing, “Then remember who had you on your knees first, Diana”

“I’ll be thinking of you the whole time”

And he believed in it. Because he had to.

Because the taste of you was still on his tongue and he was terrified of you coming back from that party tasting like someone else’s lips 

✧˖*°࿐

The room hushed when you walked in.

Even with the music pounding— there was a shift. You felt it. Hyunjin saw you almost instantly.

He was across the room, his drink halfway to his lips, laughing at something Felix said. But his laugh died because you looked like revenge in heels.

You didn’t even glance at him. You walked past, slowly with Minho beside you, smirking like a villain. You let Felix eat you with his eyes too and smiled just enough to make Hyunjin’s blood boil.

And then, clearly enjoying the chaos, Minho leaned in.

“Everyone’s staring”, he said, voice low in your ear, “Should we give them something to talk about?”

You hummed, “Let’s do it, pretty boy”

He took your hand, tugged you to the middle of the dance floor, and pulled you flush against him— his palm flat on your back, his other hand gripping your hip like he’d done it a thousand times before.

The music was bass heavy and loud.

“You’ve been going ‘round, going ‘round, going ‘round every party in L.A

Cause you knew that I, knew that I, knew that I’d be at one”

You moved with him like your bodies already knew each other. Pressed your chest to his, let your hands tangle behind his neck. You smiled up at him, letting him see all of it— your recklessness, your want, your hunger.

And Minho, smirking, leaned down and kissed you.

It was slow at first, a soft claim in the middle of the crowd.

Then your fingers tightened in his hair, and he tilted his head to deepen it— tongue slick against yours, a groan low in his throat. The bass thrummed through your bones, but it was nothing compared to the heat curling in your stomach.

“I know the dress is karma, perfume regret

You got me thinking ‘bout when you were mine”

From across the room, Hyunjin was losing his mind. You felt it— the way his jaw clenched, the way his body shifted forward like a storm gathering speed.

By the time he reached you, you pulled back from Minho, just enough to look at him. But Hyunjin didn’t say a word, just grabbed your wrist and tugged— hard, possessive.

Minho’s brow arched, calm but defiant, “Jeongin invited both of us, man! Chill”

“I’m not yours anymore, Hyunjin”, you added 

He ignored you both. He just dragged you down the hall, up the stairs, and into a dark, empty corridor. Your back hit the wall as his mouth hovered near yours— not touching, just shaking with control.

“Is that what you’re doing now?”, he breathed, “Grinding on random guys in front of me?”

“You told me we shouldn’t do this anymore”, you whispered, trailing a finger down his chest, “So I stopped”

His eyes darkened, “You’re punishing me, Yn”

You smirked, “Was it working?”

He grabbed your waist, pulling you against him, letting you feel how hard he already was. 

Your voice was a whisper, “Looks like it”

He didn’t answer, instead, he kissed you—rough, desperate. His hand slid down your back and under your dress, finding bare skin. No panties. He growled into your mouth.

“You came out like this?”, he asked, fingers teasing the slick between your thighs, “No fucking underwear?”

You bit his bottom lip, “Didn’t think I’d need them”

“You’re unbelievable”

“And you’re the one who let me go”

He placed his thigh between yours, grinding you against it while his fingers dragged slow and wet through your folds.

“This”, he growled, “is mine”

“Not anymore”

He slipped two fingers inside you then, just to prove a point. Your knees buckled. You moaned into his neck, nails digging into his shoulders.

He moved excruciatingly slow, curling his fingers inside you, pressing his palm to your clit while his mouth trailed kisses down your neck.

“Say it”, he murmured.

“Say what?”, you gasped, rocking against his hand.

“That you missed this. That you missed me”

You shook your head, teasing even more, “Why should I? You watched me leave”

He pulled his fingers out, sucked them with a moan, then turned you around, bending you forward against the hallway wall. His cock dragged over your folds, flushed and hot through his clothes.

“You’re going to beg for me, pretty girl”, he whispered, voice like poison, “And when I fuck you right here, you’ll remember exactly who you belonged to”

You looked back over your shoulder, lips parted, dark eyes shining.

“Let’s see that”

You felt his hands burning your hips, the heat of his cock dragging through your folds, the weight of him behind you.

The hallway wasn’t private, anyone could walk in, anyone could hear. That was the point— letting everyone know you were still his.

Hyunjin didn’t even unzip fully. He just tugged his pants low enough to free himself and lined up, one hand bracing the wall beside your head while the other slid between your thighs again, teasing.

“You’re soaked”, he murmured, dragging his tip through them, “Dripping. Is that all for me, babygirl?”

You gasped, hips twitching back, “N-no, it’s for Min…”

He didn’t give you the chance to finish, he just slipped in with one thrust, and everything in you clenched. You moaned his name so loud you had to bite your own arm to muffle it.

He didn’t give you time to adjust, he didn’t want patience— he wanted possession.

Each thrust was brutal, paced to punish. The slap of skin on skin echoed down the hallway with each sharp snap of his hips. You arched, hands flat against the wall, feeling every inch of him stretch you, fill you, ruin you once again.

“This what you wanted?”, he rasped against your ear, “Me fucking you where anyone could walk by? Where your new boyfriend could walk by, huh?”

Your lips parted, eyes rolling back, “Y- you wish”

His hand snaked around to your front body again, thumb pressing tight circles on your clit in time with his thrusts, “Bullshit. Let them hear how much you still need me”

Your moans turned uncontrollable, broken, needy. Every part of you was on fire, your thighs shaking, your stomach so tight you could barely breathe.

Hyunjin groaned, forehead against your shoulder, “You feel so fucking good. Fuck… I missed you”

When your orgasm hitted, it hit hard. You came around him with a cry, your body spasming, stars bursting behind your eyes. Hyunjin kept fucking you through it, chasing his own high, until his hips stuttered and he growled your name into your shoulder, spilling inside you in thick, pulsing waves.

You kept in silence, just panting. Just feeling him pressed to your back, cock still inside you, both of you ruined. When suddenly…

A voice called out, “Hyung?” 

You froze. He froze.

“Yo, hyung… you out here? Someone said you ran off looking crazy”

You looked around and there, at the end of the hallway, stood Felix, blinking, stunned, holding a slice of cake on a plate.

He paused, scanning the scene— your disheveled hair, pulled up dress, Hyunjin still panting and buried inside you.

Felix slowly nodded, “I’ll, uh…”, he raised the plate, “I’ll just leave this here. It’s red velvet”

He set the plate on the floor and backed away, mumbling, “Y’all are nasty. Get a fucking room”. 

You burst out laughing as Hyunjin groaned into your neck, “I’m going to kill him”

Still catching your breath, you both sat on the floor like kids who had misbehaved. Your lipstick was still smudged, your legs were still trembling, and his hand was still under your dress.

Hyunjin panted quietly beside you. The hallway buzzed with the echo of what just happened, and neither of you spoke.

Until he reached out and pulled the slice of cake.

 “Aftercare?”

You rolled your eyes, but leaned in. He held up a plastic fork but you bit it directly from his fingers, obscenely licking the frosting with purpose.

“God”, he muttered, watching your mouth, “You’re going to be the death of me, Yn”

You shrugged, “Then die right”

The silence lingered, heavy 

“Can I ask something?”, he said suddenly, quieter 

You nodded.

“Did you ever actually believe me? When I said I was trying?”

You tilted your head, “I wanted to”

“But you didn’t”

“No”, you said honestly, “I just hoped trying would eventually become truth”

That broke something in his face— guilt. He looked down.

“I never deserved you”

“You still don’t”, you said, lifting his chin.

He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, they were softer.

“I want to try again”, he said, “For real this time. No lies, just us”

You stared at him like you were inspecting his soul. Then, grabbed the cake and smashed it into his chest, making him gasp.

The red batter slid down his designer shirt like justice served sweet.

You grinned.

 “You don’t get to have me just because you finally want me”, you said, standing up and straightening your dress, fixing your lipstick in the glass of a photo frame.

 “And Hyunjin… Minho’s not a rebound.You’re the reason I needed to start over”

His jaw clenched, eyes desperate. “Yn… don’t do this”

He touched your face so gentle, like he was afraid of breaking you

“Please,” he whispered. “Don’t go back to him”

You looked at him— his eyes were red, lips swollen, hair a mess. He looked like everything you ever loved and everything you couldn’t survive loving again.

“You think this means anything?”, you asked, tilting your head, “You think a few minutes against a hallway wall undo everything you broke?”

He stepped closer, voice raw, “It wasn’t supposed to happen like that. I was stupid, and scared, and I thought…”

“You thought I’d wait”

“When… when I saw you with him for the first time”, he said, “I knew I screwed up. I knew that… deep down, I always loved you”

“And that’s your burden to carry”, you replied.

Then, slowly, gracefully, you turned around to walk away. He followed a step, then stopped when you looked past your bare shoulder. You smiled, just barely, and kept walking.

And Hyunjin? He stayed behind— right where the past belonged

You descended the stairs slowly, like the whole room was watching again.

Minho was by the drinks, one brow raised, casual as ever.

“You good?”, he asked, handing you a slice of cake

You took a bite.

“Delicious”, you said, licking a bit of frosting from your lip.

His gaze dropped to your mouth, “You get what you needed?”

You nodded, letting your hand settle on his chest, “I did”

Minho chuckled, shaking his head, “Remind me to never get on your bad side”

You pointed your plastic fork to him

“Don’t give me a reason”

He laughed, then you ate cake together

✧˖*°࿐

The party faded behind you both as Minho helped you to get into his car. The engine hummed softly beneath the weight of the tension between you. His fingers brushed against your skin as he adjusted the seatbelt for you, and the moment lingered longer than necessary.

"Come on, let's get you home", he said, his voice low, almost intimate. The streetlights outside flickered as he drove, the air thick with unspoken words.

You didn’t say much on the drive, your mind still tangled in the remnants of what happened with Hyunjin. But Minho didn’t push you to talk, he knew better than that. He could tell, just by the way you shifted in your seat, that you were unraveling. That whatever you had with Hyunjin was done, even though the weight of it lingered.

You didn’t expect him to follow you in when you unlocked your front door, but he did— silently, like his feet knew the way without permission.

Minho stood by the window, looking out with arms crossed. He didn’t take off his jacket. You leaned on the kitchen counter, unsure of what to do or say.

And then, without turning around, he said it, “I heard you”

Your heart stopped.

“I wasn’t trying to” he added softly, “Wasn’t listening. Just… you were quite loud”

You let out a shaky breath, “Minho…”

“It’s fine. I’m not your boyfriend”

You walked over, stood beside him, “No, it’s not fine”

He looked at you then. Not angry, just… guarded. Eyes searching yours like he didn’t know what he was hoping to find.

“Did it mean anything?”, he asked, voice low, “You screaming his name like that”

Your cheeks burned, not from shame— from knowing that he heard it in the first place.

You shook your head, “Not in the way you think”

He waited in silence for you to continue

“It wasn’t about wanting him back,  you finally said, “It was about showing him what he lost. What he’ll never get again”

Minho’s brow creased just slightly, “So it was revenge”

“Closure”, you corrected, “Closure that just happened to look messy”

He looked away again, lips twitching in something like frustration

You moved closer, “Look, I don’t expect you to understand…”

“I do”, he said quickly, “That’s the problem”

You blinked in surprise

“I get it”, he continued, “He hurt you. Left you like you were disposable and then he sees you again and suddenly realizes you’re not. That you never were”

He sighed through his nose, “But I hate that he still got a piece of you anyway”

You didn’t respond right away. You reached out, gently took his hand on yours

“That part of me… the one that loved him… it’s gone, Minho. You don’t have to compete with something that is dead”

His fingers curled around yours tightly, “Then why does it still feel like he’s in the room?”

You leaned in, rested your forehead against his.

“Because closure can be loud”, you whispered, “But love is quiet. And I’m here, with you”

Minho exhaled like he’d been holding that breath all night. His other hand came to your waist, grounding himself in your warmth.

“Stay with me tonight”, you said softly.

He nodded, “I was never planning to leave”

His hand cupped your chin gently, “I’m not gonna leave you like he did”, Minho murmured "I’m going to take care of you”

You didn’t answer, just leaned in and kissed him.

His kiss was nothing like Hyunjin’s. There was no rush, no fury, no desperation to claim— there was steadiness. His lips were soft but certain like he’d already decided this was happening, and he knew you’d say yes.

And fuck, you did.

Minho’s fingers curled around your waist as he pulled you closer, his other hand rising to pull you closer from the back of your head. You melted into him, exhaling into his mouth as his thumb swept across your cheek.

He followed you to the bedroom— hands in your hair, mouth on your jaw, your neck, your shoulder. It wasn’t about anger, it wasn’t about proof, it was about the way your body melted into his without trying.

He undressed you slowly, his eyes never leaving yours, as if memorizing every inch of you. His hands were gentle, almost reverent, as he pulled your dress over your head, and the way he looked at you made your heart race— gentle, intense, and completely focused on you.

He took his time, touching, kissing, exploring every curve of your body, and you felt the remnants of Hyunjin’s touch fade away, replaced with something tender, something that made you feel whole again.

"You deserve to feel safe”, Minho murmured against your skin, "And I’m here to make sure you do”

When he laid you down, he kissed your knee, your inner thigh, your stomach, respecting your time, letting you breath

“You’re not his anymore’’,  he whispered 

“Minho…”, you whispered back.

He pressed his mouth between your thighs with a tenderness that burned. His tongue moved with precision, not chasing your reaction, but pulling it from you— earning it.

You gasped, fingers threading into his hair, hips jerking when he flattened his tongue and dragged it up softly like silk slipping over skin. The sound he made in response— low, guttural— vibrated against you, pulling a whimper from your throat.

Minho moaned when you trembled, like your pleasure was his pleasure too. He held you steady with strong hands on your hips, thumbs stroking circles into your skin as if to calm the building tension.

You came with a loud cry, legs twitching around his shoulders, back arching from the bed— it didn’t stop him. He guided you through it, licking you through every tremble, kissing your inner thighs in reverence, like you were fragile.

And when your boy collided on the bed, he kissed a path up your stomach until you could feel his breath ghosting over your lips. He whispered soft things against your skin,too quiet to catch in full but enough to make your heart stutter.

He finally undressed— fingers slowly unfastening buttons, pushing his pants down mindfully. Exposing not just skin, but the depth of everything he’d been holding back.

His hands were warm when they touched you again, sliding over your thighs, your sides, up to your breasts. And when he entered you, he did it slowly, like it meant more than just physical intimacy. Like he belonged there, each inch asking if he could, each one answering that he already did. His hips rolled forward, deep and unhurried, burying himself in you with a groan that sounded more like relief.

Your breath caught, arms tightening around him as he whispered it in your ear, possessive, “You feel that?”

He thrusted so deep  that it made you gasp, “That’s me. Not him”

You nodded, tears escaping your eyes, your chest aching. You dug your nails into his back, mouth finding his like you needed it to survive. The kiss turned desperate— not rushed, but heavy, like it carried too much. Like it had waited too long.

Minho moved in a slow, grounding rhythm. With presence, chasing another climax from you with nothing but devotion.

You came again with a moan so soft that didn’t sound like yours, face buried in his neck, your whole body ruined and shaking. He held you close through it, letting you tremble in his arms, murmuring your name again and again like it was sacred.

And then he followed, hips stuttering as he pulled out just in time, spilling hot and thick across your belly with a broken sound that melted against your shoulder.

And when it was over, he didn’t leave. He stayed right there— skin to skin, chest to chest, legs tangled. His thumb brushed your cheek, his lips found your temple. 

"You’re mine”, he whispered.

And you didn’t question.

Because Hyunjin broke you, but Minho... Minho was the rebuild.

If you enjoyed it please consider liking and reblogging. Feedbacks, loves notes and requests are very much appreciated 😊

Taglist: @hyyunjinnn , @jehhskz , @mbioooo0000 , @nightmarenyxx , @rozsdascsaptelep, @thatonegirlonhere , @notmedina127, @sweetlifeofjoy , @jeonginsleftcheek , @yelhsaa, @my-neurodivergent-world , @hyunles , @lexlikesbts , @imagine-all-the-imagines , @mysterysold , @teenagepeterpan , @hangonhyunjin , @yxna-bliss

[satanforbrains]

Are You Sure?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (she/her)

Summary: Bucky has some pre wedding jitters.

Warnings & Features: Soft Bucky, Maid of Honour!Yelena, Best Man!Sam, Bridesmaid!Ava, the nicknames "babydoll," and "baby," anxious Bucky, groom!Bucky, bride!reader, kissing, little bit of pining

Word Count: 2,046

A/N: I fell in love with this idea the second it popped into my head, I think it's so cute. I like writing soft Bucky a lot. This is set post-Thunderbolts but before the post credit scene; set sometimes in the 14 months between those two for the sake of the characters but there's no spoilers. Enjoy!! <3

The morning is hectic. You're supposed to be getting married today. You and your husband-to-be decided to keep it traditional, and not see each other before the wedding. Ava had yet pick your dress up like she said she would and the caterers were running late. Those three things combined made you less than happy, but, you didn't want to be a "bride-zilla" and ruin your own wedding day.

You're sitting in the hair and makeup chair when someone knocks on the door. "Who is it?" You shout.

"It's me," Sam, Bucky's best man calls from the opposite side.

"Excuse me for a moment?" You ask the woman doing my makeup. She nods and you open the door to my hotel suite, where we all were getting ready. "Is everything okay?" You ask as you step out into the hall with Sam.

"Slow your roll," he says, noticing how tense you are. "Everything's just fine. I was just sent to give this to you."

"Oh?" You ask as you take the envelope that Sam handed to you. "This is from Bucky?"

"No, it's from an alien," Sam says, deadpan, earning a chuckle and a playful eyeroll from you.

"Thank you."

You glance down at the envelope as Sam walks away. It had your name written on it in handwriting that couldn't possibly be anyone else's but Bucky's. Smiling to yourself, you go back into the hotel room and open the letter as you sit in the hair and makeup chair to finish your glam.

"Babydoll," the letter reads, instantly putting a smile on your face.

"I miss you so much. I can't wait to see you, and I can't wait for you to be my wife. I bet you look amazing.

Be good.

Love,

Buck."

You smile to yourself, letting your eyes flick across the words on the paper, scrawled in black ink, in Bucky's handwriting.

"Can you get me a piece of paper, a pen, an en envelope?" you ask Yelena. "Please? I have some in my purse in the closet."

She nods and wordlessly goes to get what you'd asked for. She hands it to you and you start writing a note of your own to your husband to be.

"James," you write in your own handwriting that Bucky had come to adore. He's obsessed with every. single. thing. about you. Once, you'd caught him practically ogling at you with hearts in his eyes, even though all you were doing was reading a book. He kissed the ground you walked on and it was all he'd ever need to die happy. His words, not yours.

"I can't wait to be your wife. You've no idea how long I've been dreaming of this. I'm so excited to see you. Hang tight, and don't cause any trouble.

Yours,

Y/n."

You know exactly what you're doing, ending the letter with "yours." It was a subtle detail, but one you know Bucky would deeply appreciate. Any time you called yourself his, at any capacity, it drove him mad.

You finish writing the note, put the in the envelope, address the envelope, and hand it to Yelena.

"Will you deliver this to Bucky, please?" You ask, looking up at her.

"Of course," she nods and heads to deliver your note to the groom's suite, on the opposite side of hotel floor.

"Thank you!" You call as she leaves.

When your Yelena walks out, Ava finally comes in with your dress.

"I'm here!" She shouts as she walks into the suite, holding your dress and her own.

"I was starting to think you weren't coming!" you tell her as she comes to stand next to you in the chair.

"I will always come," she with a slight smirk.

"Thank you for getting my dress."

--

While you, Ava, and the rest of your bridal party continued to get ready, Bucky, Sam and the his groomsmen were getting ready, too.

Bucky's morning was a lot more docile, but, as the hours ticked by, he grew more nervous.

"Man, sit down," Sam urged him as he paced across his suite, making it impossible for his hairdresser to fix his hair. "You're gonna make yourself late to your own wedding."

Bucky sighs and sits down, letting his hairdresser fix his hair.

"What if this is a mistake?" He asks, looking up at Sam with some vulnerability in his eyes he very seldom showed.

"What the hell do you mean, 'what if this is a mistake'?" Sam retorts, raising an eyebrow.

"I mean, what if she can do better? What if I hurt her? What if I'm not what she needs?"

"She loves you, man. You're perfect together. She needs you just as much as you need her. I get why you're in your head, but, you don't have to be," Sam tells him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Before Bucky could respond, someone knocks on the door of the groom's suite.

"Who is it?" Bucky calls.

"Yelena! I have something for you."

Bucky doesn't say anything else but he gets up to answer the door.

"Y/n asked me to give this to you," Yelena tells Bucky as she hands him the envelope with the note you wrote to him in it.

Bucky softens immediately as he looks at the envelope. You'd written "James," on it in big, elegant handwriting that you saved for special occasions.

"Thanks," he says with a slight smile, closing the door after Yelena nods and starts to head back to the bridal suite.

"What's that?" Sam asks, nodding to the envelope in Bucky's hands.

"It's from y/n," he mutters as he opens it carefully. Sam all but deadpans him.

"You're worried about being good enough for her, yet here you two are treating me and Yelena like homing pigeons," Sam chuckles, his statement blunt, although not harsh.

Bucky doesn't say anything else and just rolls his eyes as he unfolds the paper, reading the note. Despite himself and his anxiety, he softens slightly at your words scrawled across the page.

Coupled with his anxiety, he's also vibrating with excitement, not only at seeing you, but finally making you his wife, too. He hadn't seen you in what felt like a hundred years. The next time he did, you'd be his wife. He knew he wanted to marry you from the second he laid eyes on you.

Sam plucks the paper from his hands after his eyes flick over the words a few times, as if he was stuck on them ~ stuck on you.

"See this?" Sam asks, waving the paper.

"Give it back," Bucky grumbles, snatching the paper from Sam.

"She's obsessed with you, man. You've got nothing to worry about."

Bucky shrugs as he reads the note one more time, simply enamoured, before folding it and tucking it into the watch pocket of suit coat.

"It's almost time. You've got to get out of your head."

"Alright, alright, I get it," Bucky mutters as he puts on his watch and cuff links.

Despite telling Sam his nerves are settled, he still paces across the room as he fixes his collar for what feels like the thousandth time.

Sam grabs him by the shoulders, stopping him in his tracks in an attempt to ground him.

"You have to relax. She wouldn't have agreed to marry you if she didn't think you were good enough for her."

"I know, Sam," Bucky replies, his tone almost annoyed.

"Then act like it," Sam tells him.

Bucky opens his mouth to reply but the wedding coordinator knocks on the door to let him, Sam, and the other groomsmen know that it's nearly time to head to the venue.

At that time, you had already gotten there, to make sure that the two of you don't run into each other before the first look.

--

You'd asked for some time alone in a room off to the side of the venue whilst you waited.

Everything was perfect. You and Bucky decided to keep it small and intimate; neither of you were big on extravagance, but, it was very elegant, nonetheless.

You and Bucky stuck to natural colours, with white ribbons, fairy lights and white wisteria flowers. You looked around quickly when you'd arrived; it was everything you've ever dreamed of. You looked like a princess in your dress and you could not wait to show Bucky.

Your bridal party helps to make sure everything is set up before heading to a room to wait in before the ceremony starts.

During the ride to the venue, 20 minutes after you and your bridal party had arrived, Bucky's more anxious now, than he was ever was. His knee bounces faster than the speed of light as he adjusts and readjusts his watchband.

Of course, Sam does his best to calm Bucky's nerves, but, that doesn't go as well as he wishes it did.

As soon as the car Bucky and Sam arrive in stops, Bucky bolts.

"Where are you going?" Sam asks, but, Bucky's already way too far away to be able to hear.

"Where is she?" He frantically asks the wedding coordinator.

"But, Mr. Barnes-." The coordinator starts, but, he cuts her off.

"I don't care, please just tell me where y/n is," he says, his voice softer and more intense.

The wedding coordinator nods and leads him inside.

"Down this hall, the last room on the right," she tells him, pointing down a corridor.

"Thank you," Bucky says and heads down the hallway.

You're clipping your veil in when you hear a knock at the door. Not thinking anything of it, you open the door and freeze when you see Bucky standing on the other side.

It takes you a few seconds before you quietly scold him. "Bucky! You're not supposed to see me yet!"

His jaw falls open upon seeing you in your dress with your hair and makeup all done. He doesn't even process your words because all he can focus on is how perfect you look - how you're the perfect bride.

"James!" You say a bit louder and gently push on his shoulder. This causes him to snap out of his daze, and that sense of urgency returns to his voice.

"I know, babydoll, I'm sorry, I just... I needed to see you."

You could immediately tell that something was wrong and soften immediately, stepping aside to let him in the room.

"Hey, it's okay," you assure him softly and take him to go have a seat. "What's wrong?"

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Your eyebrow flies to your hairline at his question and you lean in to cup his face in your palms. "Do what?"

"Marry me."

"I've never been more sure of anything. Why? Are you having second thoughts?" You ask, trying to hide the way your heart dropped at the thought.

"No, never," he says quickly, knowing that the thought would rip you to shreds. "But what if I can't be the husband you need to be? What if I hurt you?"

"Oh, baby," you say softly, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. "All I need you to be is yourself. You don't have to be anything but you. I love you unconditionally, exactly as you are, and nothing in the world could change that. I want nothing more than to become your wife today. As long as you're you, I'll be the happiest woman alive."

"What if I hurt you?"

"What if I hurt you? I'm no less capable of it than you are. If it happens, it happens. I know you'd never do it on purpose, arguments are inevitable sometimes, and I trust that we love each other enough to work through whatever happens."

"Really?"

"Yes, really, baby," you assure him again before placing another kiss to his forehead. "I love you so much."

"And I love you, babydoll."

"I can't wait to be your wife."

"I can't wait to have you as my wife," he mumbles softly, turning his head to place a kiss on your hand.

"Let's go get married now, hm?" You ask, with a playful smirk on your face.

"Yes. Let's go get married."

[nikethestatue]

Sometimes, I think that GAs are their own worst enemies when it comes to their 'theories'.

I was on Reddit and there was a discussion about how Azriel is of course so very obsessed with having a mate that he'd leave any non-mate wife/girlfriend/lover (aka Elain) the moment he gets a mate.

The OP, I believe, wasn't a GA, but of course there were plenty of GA opinions, though they tried to keep it fairly opaque. As in, Azriel would leave Elain for ANY mate.

And I genuinely think sometimes--do they hear themselves? WHO, in the world would want to read about an MMC who leaves the FMC because another woman crossed his path, mate or no mate. In what possible reality would this be something that an audience, especially a heavily female audience, would want to consume? And in what world would SJM write something like that?

Imagine some of SJM's popular, non-mated couples.

Imagine Lorcan, the dark lord, who became obsessed with a tiny, bossy human girl, for whom he went through heaven and hell and to whom he bound his whole life, suddenly meeting his Fae 'mate' and dumping Elide for said mate. Because, you know...MATE!

Imagine Chaol telling Yrene--listen honey, thanks for sucking the demon out of me and teaching me how to walk again, and then binding my walking to your power, but I have a mate now. So like, it's been grand, but byeeee!

Imagine even Tamlin, who stayed with Feyre, loved her, let's say they married and she is the Lady of Spring, Cursebreaker, and there is no Rhys. But then one day, Tamlin meets his mate, rides back to Feyre and tells her that they are over, because he is mates now with this other gal.

Which brings me back to Azriel. Azriel, who held onto a crush for 500 years, would just dump Elain, who'd presumably give up HER bond for him, so he could be with his 'mate' (let's call her, oh, I don't know, something catchy--Gwyn!) So Elain gets Made, suffers with the bond she doesn't want, gets rejected by Graysen in a most humiliating way, and then slowly, gingerly, allows herself to fall in love again. She accepts being Fae, and she is able to find someone who speaks to her soul. Let's say she forgives him his stupid 'this is a mistake' quip, she gives him her heart, then her body, and she is in love with him. And then she goes so far as to somehow break or nullify the bond with Lucien that she doesn't want. So she could be with Azriel, because she is that in love with him. And he is just as madly in love with her.

And then the bond snaps with Gwyn, and he just...turns around and dumps Elain? And this somehow becomes 'Elain's Book' and the thing that readers are gagging for? THE LOVE STORY for the ages?

Maybe I am dumb, but please, can someone explain this logic to me?

[schlattslambo]

a little old fashioned | schlatt

part two

warnings: unprotected hand holding, drunk kissing, sitting in schlatt's lap and feeling him get hard, intentionally lowercase

note: wow, hi, im back. this took foreverrrr to write. please enjoy!

the music in the bar slowly fades, signaling the fact that it will be closing soon. you’re sitting with jay, laughing with him as the alcohol buzzes in your system. he says a dumb joke that has you throwing your head back in laughter. he takes the time to look at you, taking in all of your features. your nose, your smile, the way your eyes sparkle, and those lips. those soft, pillowy lips that jay finds himself staring at, wondering what they would feel like on his. 

when you look back at jay, you do a bit of the same. you notice the freckles that scatter along his face, dotting along his nose and into his facial hair. the flush on his cheeks is still there, somewhat extending to the tips of his ears. his eyes are half lidded due to the alcohol, and he’s got an adorable crooked smile on his face. he’s staring at you somewhat, making you grin. 

“what?” you ask, feeling warmth on your cheeks. 

“just lookin’ at ya,” jay smiles. “you’re very cute, you know that?” 

you smile, moving your attention down to your drink before looking back at jay. “yeah?” you ask. “you’re not just saying that?”

jay chuckles softly, placing his hand onto yours. you look at where his thumb gently grazes over your knuckles. his touch is soft, despite his large form. his knuckles are bruised slightly, reminding you that he literally punched your ex a few hours prior. the thought makes butterflies flutter to life in your stomach.

"you knuckles are bruised," you say softly, taking hold of jay's hand and looking at the bruises. "did you hit him that hard?"

"i hit him as hard as i needed to," jay replies. "he needed to learn that he can't treat people like that without repercussions. and that repercussion was a fucked up jaw."

"do they hurt?" you ask, seemingly glossing over the fact that your ex is probably missing a few teeth.

jay smiles, shaking his head. "nah, it's nothing i can't handle."

"are you sure?" you whisper. jay nods.

"i'm positive, babe."

the two of you fall into a silence again. but instead of it being awkward, you two enjoy being in each other's company. jay opens his mouth to continue complimenting you, but your friend stumbles up with jay's friend ted, her drunken grin making you smile.

the lights go on, making the group of you squint at the brightness. you hear a bartender announce that nobody has to go home, but you all can't stay there. your friend pulls her phone out.

"there's a bar down the road if you guys wanna keep hanging out," she offers, smiling at both jay and his friend.

"sounds good to me," jay shrugs, smiling at you.

so the group of you gather your things and make your way to the bar down the road. you walk next to jay and your friend walks next to ted. as you walk, jay's pinky finger extends towards you, linking with yours. you see him eyeing you out of the corner of your eye, clearly nervous. you grin, eyes on the ground as you hold onto jay's hand, fingers intertwining with his.

inside the bar, music is playing loudly and the lights are dimmed. you've never been to this place before. it's a two story bar with a club downstairs and an outdoor patio. your friend goes downstairs to the club with ted, where the music is louder, and you stay upstairs with jay.

"do you want another drink, toots?" jay asks. you nod.

"yes please," you reply. "just a hard cider."

jay nods and the two of you walk to the bar. as jay orders your drinks, you look around. there's neon signs on the walls inside and string lights outside. all in all, it's a cute bar. most people are downstairs, so the patio is empty. jay hands you your drink with a grin.

"can we sit outside?" you ask.

"of course!"

the two of you walk to the patio and you find a comfortable couch, sitting down and smiling at jay. the alcohol in your system is now hitting you, and the cider in your hand is just going to make it worse. but when you think about it, you don't really care. you enjoy jay’s company and like talking to him.

you sip your cider as jay sips a beer. you eye it a bit, having not seen the brand before. jay notices this, smiling at you.

“want a sip?” he asks. you nod, taking the bottle from his hands, tipping it to your mouth.

your lips curl up in disgust as you swallow the sip that you took. despite having an apple on the label, the beer tastes nothing like it. you sputter, coughing a bit as a full body shiver works through you.

“that’s awful!” you reply, shaking your head as you hand the bottle back.

“oh come on!” jay replies. “it isn’t that bad!”

“it absolutely is!” you counter. “how do you drink that? it’s like piss water!”

jay laughs, head thrown back. you look at his neck, which is suddenly barren of marks you want to give him. the thought is in the front of your mind, and it’s all you can think about. you take a long sip of your drink, finishing it off. if your mind is going to be like this, you need more alcohol.

jay notices that your drink is empty, smiling at you.

“you want another drink?”

you nod, smiling as he extends his hand. your fingers interlock with jay’s, his touch sparking electricity under your skin. you sink your teeth into your bottom lip to stop yourself from outwardly smiling like an idiot.

he walks to the bar and allows you to order your own drink. you settle for a cocktail, seeing as you’re probably gonna need liquid encouragement to flirt with the handsome man holding your hand.

as jay taps his card against the machine to pay, you look up at him.

“you didn’t even read the price,” you comment. jay shrugs a shoulder, handing your drink to you.

“don’t need to,” he says simply. “besides, i wanna buy drinks for a cute girl, prices don’t matter.”

your cheeks flush as you walk back to the patio with jay. the music from the bar fades as the door closes behind you, leaving the two of you in the early summer night. you bring up the fact that jay’s still wearing his cowboy hat despite leaving the other bar, making him laugh.

“if you wanted to wear it, you just had to say that!” jay teases, removing the hat from his head and placing it onto yours.

you giggle, adjusting it on your head. jay looks at you, his eyes darting from your own down to your lips and back up again. he swipes his tongue on his bottom lip, wetting it. the action makes you look at his lips.

“you look really good in that hat, toots,” jay breathes. “like, wow.”

you down the rest of your drink, the alcohol fully buzzing away in your system. your body moves before you can even register anything, and soon you’re in jay’s lap. his eyes widen and you grin, biting your lip. his hands immediately go to your hips, holding you in place.

“you’re really handsome, you know that?” you ask, placing your hands on jay’s shoulders.

jay’s cheeks are flushed from the mix of alcohol and him being completely flustered by the girl in his lap.

you rub your nose on his cheek gently, feeling the heat of his skin. under you, his cock hardens. jay’s eyes widen as you giggle, purposefully wiggling your hips just a bit. jay bites back a groan as his grip tightens on your waist.

“behave,” he growls softly.

“or what?” you ask, pressing your center on his hard cock. jay hisses.

one of his hands trails up your back before yanking your hair back. you arch into his chest, a moan caught in your throat. jay nips at the skin, making the caught moan break free.

“or you won’t like what happens next, dollface,” jay whispers. “and you’ll see what happens to bad girls.”

you grip the sides of jay’s face, pulling him in for a kiss. your teeth sinking into jay’s bottom lip. he groans and digs his nails into your hips. you pull back, smirking at jay.

“bring it on, big guy,” you giggle.