#some of these are shorter and some of them have more plot in them

[riallasheng]

@katblu42

@riallasheng can you please clarify for me . . . are Fleetway and Redan publishers of comics?

Sorry for the overly long delay in responding to this! Between moving and essentially no notifs, I missed your reply/comment until just now!

Yes, Fleetway and Redan are comic magazine publishers ^^

Fleetway was published in the 1990s by Fleetway Magazine as 'New Thunderbirds' (they also did a comic magazine for Stingray and Captain Scarlet) Fleetway was a mix of new material and old (tv21 comic stories were reprinted in the Fleetway run, generally taking up about half of the page count, although they were essentially in 'broadcast' order, that is they were published in the order of 'the publishers put the stories they liked best/felt were strongest at the start and had the 'weaker' stories towards the end... which given the fact that tv21 actually HAD continuity did cause some issues XD) For the new material, Fleetway had their own original comic stories that were set in the TOS universe, about.... 6? comic retellings of canon episodes (that were actually really good!), cover stories, and of course the 'Complete Thunderbirds Story' which is most well known for canonizing the fan created name of Lucille for the Tracy Mom, and canonizing what is actually officially the WRONG date for the setting (Fleetway's Complete TB story set Thunderbirds in 2024, the TV show and tv21 comics and novels were set in 2065). Complete Thunderbirds is still a decent read, and has enough solid points pulled from the bios and the like to make it fun from a lore standpoint as well. Fleetway also is the only time we have Gordon's hydrofoil accident mentioned/shown outside of the bios!

Redan was published in the early 2000s, and were shorter comic strips (usually 1 page / 10 or so panels). Done in a more colorful and simple art style, as well as being a bit more 'kid friendly / kid focused' then Fleetway or even the og TV show was (absoLUTly more 'kid' centric then tv21 or the novels). It's still set in the TOS 'verse' though. ^^ Decent enough comics, though they tended to be more straight forward ^_^ All of the comics in Redan were new and original plots.

As ever, I have scans of almost all the comics (and novels) so if anyone wants to be able to read them, drop me a DM and I'll send ye a link ^^

Do any Thunderbirds fans know where the fact that Gordon was involved in a hydrofoil crash originated? I’ve only watched the original series and either it was a single line that I missed or just wasn’t mentioned. The wiki doesn’t mention where it got the hydrofoil info either. Is it just a TAG thing that has been retroactively superimposed onto the original series? Or from an old tie-in novel? Or something?? If anyone knows I would be grateful!

[varpusvaras]

Report nro. 34456-446: Lost sight of the suspect in level 2089; the suspect was not apprehended; the surroundings impeded with the process of apprehending the suspect

Report nro. 35567-447: The suspect was chased down to level 2089; the patrol in charge lost sight of the suspect due to poor conditions of the surroundings, which made continuing the chase at full force dangerous for the members of the patrol; the suspect was not apprehended

Report nro. 36678-448: The last sighting of the suspect was near sector 8994 of the level 2089; the patrol in charge of the chase had to slow down their approach due to poor conditions of the area in question, to make sure there would be no excess harm for the troopers; the suspect was not apprehended

Requisition for equipment upgrade, form 6678 B-3

Requisition DENIED

See more information below

There was a headace incoming. Fox could feel it.

Stone raised a brow at him when Fox informed him about it.

"You know, if you can already feel the headache, it means you have a headache", he said.

Fox glared at him.

"When someone tells you that they can feel a headache coming, the last thing they usually need is someone being a smartass", he said, barely restraining himself from gritting his teeth. It wouldn't have done him any good either on the headache department.

Stone didn't seem at all phased by Fox's bad mood. He just shrugged, and then reached over the desk and snatched the datapad right from Fox's hands. That did make Fox grit his teeth, but he forced himself to relax. If the datapad was in Stone's hands, it meant that Fox didn't have to look at it anymore.

He drummed his fingers on his desk, as he watched Stone scroll through the reports and the requisition form.

"You asked for better safety gear for unstable ground and low lighting conditions?" Stone glanced at Fox over the datapad. "Those are weird things to deny, especially since they want us to increasingly patrol the lower levels, even outside an active investigation."

"You think I don't know that?" Fox scoffed, and then tried to make himself relax again. Nothing about this situation was Stone's fault, and Fox didn't like taking his frustrations on his brothers. Other people outside the Guard yelled at all of them enough already, they didn't need their Commander to do the same.

Stone didn't, thankfully, still seem at all phased by Fox's mood. He continued to scroll for a moment longer, his forehead creasing more and more by every second.

"The request was denied because there have been no observations of conditions on the reported area, that are deemed unsafe enough for us to need better equipment?" He glanced at Fox again. "That doesn't make any sense. You have clearly attached the trooper reports onto the form. Did they not read them?"

"Probably not." Fox pushed his frustrated thought out of his head by sighing very deeply. "Or if they did, the person in charge of processing the requests that day just deemed the risks not worth the credits."

Both of those options were just as plausible, as both of them had happened just as many times by now. Fox leaned his forehead on his hand and pressed his thumb hard against his temple. They were just past half a year in their posting, and most things about it sucked already.

Just think about the fact that you have a bed that is not full of mud, sand, or bugs, he told himself. Just think about the fact that at the very least, you don't have immersion foot syndrome. You have things good in here.

That thought helped a little bit, but it didn't change the fact that they had still been denied of the gear they needed, and now there was heavy breathing against the back of Fox's neck.

Stone must've felt it too, because he sighed as well.

"So they expect us to just throw our men at the danger and get results, no matter the cost?" He clicked his tongue. "And when we do that, a few weeks goes by, and they start complaining about too many casualties."

"Tell me about it." Fox jammed his thumb harder against his skin. There was a burst of pain under it as he found the point of tension. "We need to come up with a new tactic for situations like this. Increase the force or use of weaponry, if the suspect starts heading towards an area we know is unsafe. Update all the patrols with a map of said areas."

Stone started to drum the desk now as well in Fox's place.

"That might work", he said. "At least for now, it's the best we have."

"I'm going to implement it until we get the time to have a larger meeting about this issue." Fox forced himself to straighten up. "Give me the datapad back."

"No", Stone said, frowning at Fox. "You're not supposed to be looking at them. You're not supposed to be even thinking too hard. You can knit together a broken bone, but not a concussed brain. You're lucky I haven't already tattled about you to Index."

"Like Index would do anything."

"He would look sad, and then his two little terrors would come down here and kick the door in", Stone said. "You know they don't respect anyone in here, other than Index."

Fair point. Still, Fox extended his hand.

"I promise I won't do any more work", he said, "but I need to send a couple of messages to Casset. He agreed that there is a very high chance that all of these recent cases are related to some sort of bigger activity, as all of their movements are similar. He promised to look up some old reports from before the war and send them over."

Stone tilted his head.

"That sounds a lot like working", he said. "And why do you need Casset to do it anyway? Couldn't you have asked Mirror to find those reports for you?"

"Mirror has other things to do than to slice through old security databases and see if there is anything even remotely related to this", Fox said. "If a natborn wants to be helpful to us, I'm going to take it. It doesn't happen too often anyway."

Casset was the new head of Security for the intelligence office, though Fox had by now realised that it didn't mean a lot, despite the important-sounding title. Casset's job was basically to keep up with five hundred different channels and double the amount of systems used for processing and archiving information related to security. Most of the time Fox saw him, he was talking to at least three people at the same time through his commlink. But still, for a natborn officer, Casset was not bad. He couldn't tell Fox and his brothers apart most of the time, but that was forgivable, and he, at the very least, didn't try to actively make Fox's life worse.

Stone knew all of that as well. He looked back down at the datapad, and then back at Fox.

"True", he said. "But still. It's still working."

"Well someone has to do it", Fox shot back. "And since all of you are busy picking up my slack, because I got thrown off a moving speeder and landed on my head a little bit too hard, I can type a couple of messages."

Stone himself was still in full armor, despite the fact that he had already been on his feet for at least eleven and a half hours. Perhaps Fox should've adopted the train of thought of just doing as Index had told him to do, so he could get back to work faster and prevent Stone and the others from growing massive bags under their eyes as well, but the truth was that he didn't have the luxury to do that, and that was also something Stone knew.

Stone looked at the datapad again, and then with a very displeased look on his face, he handed it back to Fox.

"I will tell Thorn about this", he said. "And if you're still here doing anything else than messaging Casset when he comes back from his patrol, I hope he throws you into a cell for as long as it takes you to fully recover."

"Whatever." Fox had just opened his messages, when Stone's commlink started to rapidly beep for an incoming call.

"Speak of the man", Stone said, and opened the call. "What is it?"

"We found the suspect on the latest case." Fox sat up a little straighter. What Thorn had just said didn't yet tell him a lot, since they had multiple cases open currently, but he sounded serious enough for Fox to immediately recognise that this was about something important.

"What case?" Stone asked.

"The suspected theft of the hyperdrive parts from the shipments to the GAR mechanics", Thorn explained. "The Nautolan guy who worked as an engineer there. Edix. He managed to slip from the patrol somewhere around level 2100 a couple of days ago."

Stone looked at the datapad in Fox's hands. They had both just read report 448, so at least the whole thing was fresh in their minds.

"Yes, I know him", Stone said. "Are you bringing him in here yourself, or do you need someone else to process him?"

"About that", Thorn sounded like he was grimacing when he spoke, "he is being sent to the medical center at the moment. He was...I don't know how to explain it, but he looked like he had been through a lot during the past couple of days. He was barely coherent, and even that is saying it too nicely. We need to make sure that he doesn't die before we can get anything out of him."

"Was he injured?" Stone asked. The answer should've been straight-forward, but instead, Thorn was quiet for a moment.

"Didn't look like it", he said, finally. Fox scowled at the commlink.

"What do you mean?" He asked. "You just said that he was being transported to medical because you're worried he will die without attention."

Thorn didn't seem at all surprised by the fact that Fox was also there, as he didn't comment on it at all.

"He didn't have any visible injuries, at least not anything bigger than a couple of scratches", he answered. "I'm not a medic or an expert in Nautolan physiology, so I can't say for sure what's going on, but he was just...laying here. Gripping onto the ground like he had just managed to crawl to where he was. Didn't even try to resist the arrest, he just stared at us and sometimes muttered something, but our translation software couldn't pick up clear words from it."

Fox gave Stone a look. This wasn't the usual way of operation. If there were no visible injuries, the suspects were to be transported into the medical section of the prison, where they would be monitored, until they were cleared to be well enough to be admitted for regular processing. Fox knew this. Stone knew this. They both knew that Thorn knew this as well.

Fox also knew that Thorn didn't do decisions that went against regulations without a good reason.

"Why did you call up medical personnel right away?" Fox still had to ask. There was something weird in the way Thorn was speaking. Fox wouldn't have said that he was being too serious, no. He just sounded like he was on edge, in a way that Fox recognised many of his brothers and other officers to be when they had seen something rather gruesome, but were able to compartmentalise it away after years of seeing things just as bad or even worse. The problem was just the fact that what Thorn was describing didn't sound like it was anything too grotesque.

It wasn't like Thorn. Perhaps he was just leaving things out while they were on the call. It could've explained it, at least for now.

Thorn sighed heavily.

"I deemed it necessary", he said, now sounding a bit frustrated. "Look, the medical officers that came to take him away agreed with me, and I'm going to trust their word on this. We want our suspect to be able to withstand interrogation. We've already gotten too much drag for all of this, and I don't want any more of it."

That was true. At least now they would have something to show for themselves.

Fox bit back his own sigh.

"Alright", he said. "We'll talk about this after the official report has been made."

Thorn breathed in deeply a couple of times. They were all working too much, Fox reminded himself, especially now that Fox wasn't doing full hours.

"Yes, Sir", Thorn said. "I'll be back to base in three hours, if nothing else comes up. I hope you're not in your office anymore by then, because I don't have the energy to be gentle with you tonight."

"I can accept that", Fox said. "Call me if something else comes up."

"No, I will be calling Stone, because he is the one on duty right now", Thorn said. "Over."

He ended the call before Fox could say anything else. Stone had the audacity to smirk.

"You heard him", he said, and stood up. "Message Casset, and then go to sleep. I mean it."

Fox sent him a much more vicious glare than the previous ones, but Stone still didn't seem to care. He just took Fox's empty cup of caf from the desk, and marched out of the office without a second look.

Fox leaned back on his chair with a groan. His head definitely hurt now. Maybe it had been hurting to whole time. Who knew. Not Fox, that was for sure.

Going to sleep did sound rather nice, Fox wasn't going to lie. He could've given himself a moment, but he knew that if he did so, he wouldn't be able to make himself do anything else, and he really did need to message Casset. It was the least he could do.

He straightened himself, lifted the datapad, and typed a message. Then he leaned back again and closed his eyes.

He wasn't sure how long had passed, but he startled awake when there was a chime coming from the datapad. Fox straightened himself a bit too fast, making both his neck and head thrum. The light coming from the screen seemed definitely brighter now than it had the last time, and Fox had to squint at the device until he could lower the brightness enough to be able to see clearly.

Casset had gotten the reports. He was sorry for them being not sorted in any way, as he had had to pull them from different filing systems. Fox understood very quickly why he was apologising when he saw the size of the datapack attached to the message.

Fox put his head in his hands and just breathed for a moment.

Then he pressed download.

[sagemoderocklee]

the way the disability ride service i take isnt gonna pick me up from work for a damn hour…. im so fucking annoyed

edit: apparently the driver did some fuckshit but they got me a new ride quickly once they figured it out so i’m thankfully getting picked up soon not that i still didn’t wait like 40 minutes but at least it’s not an actual hour or more

[orcelito]

Honestly when I say I'm not a movie watcher I feel like most ppl just don't really Get It. Or maybe instead, I just don't get how other people *are* more movie watchers than me.

Like I watch movies socially, when someone I'm hanging out with wants to watch smth, bc then I can chat about it with them & even make commentary if we're watching outside of theaters. Keeps it entertaining. But on my own??? Sitting still for 1-2 hours straight?? Focusing on one thing for that long??? Nevermind the fact that I can easily focus on smth like reading or video games for that long or longer - video games are significantly more interactive & when im reading I often take little breaks to fuck around on my phone Anyways. And sure, I've had times watching a show or whatever where I watch a full 12 or so episodes in a row, aka longer than a movie, but STILL... it's still more bite sized, easier for my brain to digest before moving on to the next one. Watching a movie alone is like hell to my adhd brain.

So im like yeah, a lot of people like watching movies more than I do. I can understand that. But then there are people who are like "how can people not have watched this / have watched so few of these? Do they just not watch movies?!" And uh I mean kinda yeah, in my case. Not everyone likes watching movies?? From my perspective, I don't understand how you can enjoy sitting down and consuming all of One Story in 1-2 hour periods of time (excluding sequels and such, tho those still aren't the same as episodic things). But you don't see Me going around being like "how can so many people have watched these movies?! Do you have nothing else to do with your time?!" Or smth like that bc that would make me sound like an insane person lmao. Do you get what I'm saying

[mymoonsight]

Reposting a comment I made on a post and adding to it

x Reader fics need to handle writing “reader” better sometimes

As a 6ft afab person who’s built like a man and has never been super feminine and has a more unique haircut that’s shorter I hate to read about “readers” petite, small, pale body and her “long flowy straight hair”, etc.

Reader is meant to be ambiguous!! And if it’s important to the plot please mention it at the beginning!!! If it’s not important to the plot why is it being included???

Some people who are reading may be tall, fat, skinny, short, or even somewhere in between. The readers could have a hijab, 4c hair, locks, braids, long hair, short hair, wavy, no hair and even more.

Stop making all readers so sweet and innocent, I want a reader who’s petty and sassy sometimes. I’ve noticed also that so many readers are either too baby to do anything or over powered.

Personally I also hate reading about obviously toxic men and relationships that the reader goes back to because they are “so in love”, like no please let me deck that sucker and leave them in the dust and be happier.

Also, if you label your post with the tag “___ x reader” or titled with “___ x reader” and then make descriptions and then ADD A NAME!!! It’s not an x reader fic and I heavily want to block you.

Edit:

Hey hello! I just wanted to add that I heavily respect and love fic writers! So many have a talent that I will never reach or have and I appreciate your content being put out at all! I made this post as a 5 am ramble and was half delirious lol

People can write as they please and I’ll ignore it if I’m not interested or I’ll make slight internal edits to fit me if I am

[a-very-fond-farewell]

me: *tries to watch a 8min video while eating*

the video: *plays 6 whole ads during its runtime*

[agreeewrites]

Best Friends Brother ⊹ . + °

feat. Charlie Weasley x fem!reader

summary: You are Fred & George’s best friend, and meet their mysterious older brother, Charlie, at a product launch at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

cw: MDNI 18+ smut with basically zero plot. charlie has an absolutely filthy mouth. no war (or light war? idk, everyone is alive)

an: this was supposed to be a casual hook up when I initially planned it, but the dick was so good they fell in love ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

part two | masterlist

+ ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . +

Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes had a line around the building, hopeful witches and wizards desperate to get a glimpse of the Weasley twin’s newest product. You strolled past them in your mini dress and tights, more than a little chuffed by their jealous glares.

The doors were locked, blocked off with enchanted rope, but when Fred spotted you through the window, he ran to unlock the doors.

“Y/n! I’m so glad you could make it. Georgie, looks who’s here!” Fred slung an arm over your shoulders and ushered you into the store. It was the cleanest you’d ever seen it, with streamers and lights strung everywhere, and a long table loaded with food and drink.

“Y/n!” George shouted, popping up from behind the register. Both of them were dressed in freshly pressed brown suits, looking exceptionally dapper. He came aroud the counter and pulled you into a hug. “Thanks for coming out.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you grinned up at them, pride filling your chest. You’d been close with the twins for years, a friendship that started in school and only grew in adulthood, since you worked a few doors down at Honeydukes.

“Come, you have to meet our family!” They ushered you upstairs, where a dozen or so people waited, several faces were familiar, some were not.

“You remember Harry, Ron, and Ginny,” George said, and you greeted them all with a wave.

“And our parents, Molly and Arthur,” Fred continued.

“Oh, y/n! How lovely to see you!” Molly cooed, pulling you into a rib-cracking hug. “My, what a beautiful young lady you’ve grown into.” She pinched you cheek, and heat scorched your face.

“And this is our older brother’s Percy, Charlie, and Bill. And Bill’s wife, Fleur.”

You turned to the trio of men hovering by the bookcases, and nearly tripped over your heels. Percy, you remembered from school, Fleur as well, and Bill was too busy gazing down at her blonde head to glance your way. But Charlie. He stared straight through you, his dark eyes swallowing you whole.

“Pleasure,” Charlie said, his voice honeyed and deep. He was shorter that Percy beside him, but muscular enough that the maroon blazer he wore seemed a little stretched at the shoulders. His white button down shirt beneath it was tailored perfectly to fit across his wide chest and taper at his defined waist. Freckles kissed his cheeks and forehead, his skin a shade tanner than his siblings, though he shared their ginger hair, mid-length and wavy.

“Hello,” you managed, giving him a small smile. But before you could engage further, George whisked you away.

“It’s tiiiime!” Fred shouted, waving his wand, and the doors burst open.

+ ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . +

As the event raged on, you found yourself drawn to Charlie’s orbit, watching as he mingled with guests and chatted with his family. He seemed to draw a lot of attention, what with his rugged good looks and the fact that he was a dragon trainer. It seemed everyone wanted a sliver of Charlie Weasley’s attention.

So you admired him from a far, and tried to help Fred and George as best you could.

You chatted with customers, explaining the new product the best you could, but you kept feeling the tug of someone’s attention at the nape of your neck, distracting you. When the customer finally moved on, you glanced towards the direction of the feeling, and caught Charlie watching you over the rim of his fire whiskey, ignoring the gentleman attempting to talk to him entirely.

The air froze in your lungs, you heart tripping over itself. His gaze was scorching, and if looks could burn…you were certain your clothes would be rendered to ash.

Desire pooled in your lower belly, heating your blood to an uncomfortable degree. Your heart was pounding so loudly in your ears, you missed George approach.

“Hey, y/n, enjoying yourself?” He asked, offering you a glass of champagne with a candy snitch floating in it.

You accepted with a smile. “I am, thank you. You guys have done an incredible job.”

George beamed, clinking your glasses together before loping off to sell to another customer.

“So, how long have you known my brothers?” A low voice murmured in your ear, and you whirled around, nearly spilling champagne all over Charlie’s front. He caught your elbow with a steady hand, his grip firm but gentle. “Easy, love,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting.

“Oh, uh, f-five years? I think,” you stuttered, looking anywhere but his smoldering eyes.

“Then how have we never met? I’d certainly remember you.”

You shrugged a shoulder, taking what you hoped was a casual sip of wine. “Seems you haven’t been paying much attention,” you teased, finally meeting his eyes.

His smirk grew into a soft smile. “What a grave error on my part.”

“Are you in town for the event, or…?” You could feel heat climbing up your neck, but you willed yourself to keep a level head. You knew how to flirt, had done so with plenty of blokes in your time, but none as handsome and disarming as Charlie.

“I thought so, but evidently the Gods had other ideas.”

You knees nearly buckled. “Like?” You coyly tilted your head, allowing your eyes to trail across his broad shoulders, down his chest. Was this guy seriously flirting with you? You knew you weren’t unattractive, but Charlie was…phew.

“Like…” He flushed a little, betraying his suave demeanor, and your heart slipped a little further into his hands. “Meeting the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Ever?” You teased, pulling your lower lip between your teeth.

“In this life and probably the next.” He took a sip of his whiskey, letting his eyes wander over you the same way yours did him. And based on the way they darkened, his pupils widening just a fraction, he liked what he saw as much as you did.

“Does that line always work for you?”

“Well, considering I’ve never tried it, why don’t you tell me?”

+ ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . +

Charlie slammed the door shut behind you before crowding you against it, his lips colliding with yours. He tasted like whiskey and pumpkin, with a tinge of cigarette smoke that went straight to your head, and you eagerly tangled your tongue with his, pushing his blazer off his shoulders.

“Colloportus,” he murmured against your mouth, and you heard the lock schick into place. He shrugged his blazer off, tossing it somewhere in the dark storage closet, and his hands were on you again, one sliding into your hair, the other on your lower back, drawing you closer.

“Charlie?” You gasped as his lips traveled down your neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin, his short beard a rough contrast to the suppleness of his kiss.

“Yeah, honey?” he panted, lifting his head to meet your eyes.

“I don’t usually…” you trailed off, nerves suddenly closing your throat.

His hand slid from your hair to cup your cheek, his callouses rough against your heated skin. “Me neither,” he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. “We can do whatever you want, love. I’ll take you to the nicest restaurant in London, or on Dragon-back to the Swiss Alps, or on a cruise ship to the Americas—”

You cut him off with a kiss, throwing your arms around his neck. “And if I want you to fuck me?” you said between pecks, tugging at the roots of his hair.

He smiled and scooped you up by the meat of your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist so your skirt pushed up over your hips. “Then I’ll fuck you as often as ya’ like.” He turned and dropped you onto some kind of work bench, sending the papers and junk flying with a sweep of his arm.

“The twin’s are going to be pissed,” you giggled, leaning back onto the wood so he could continue his previous assault on your neck.

“Fuck ‘em,” he muttered, nipping at your collarbones. His hands gripped your thighs with dizzying strength, the same hands that handled massive, fire-breathing beasts, and spread you open for his hungry gaze. “Seven fucking hells,” he breathed, running his hands down your inner thighs. “You’re perfect.”

In a swift motion, he ripped your tights at the seam, the sound sending a pulse of arousal to your already dripping pussy, a sharp gasp forcing it’s way from your throat. His fingers glided over your wet panties, so delicate compared to the force he’d used heartbeat before.

Your hips lifted slightly, chasing his gentle touch. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been this desperate for someone to touch you, your entire body tuned to his every breath, every twitch of his muscles. He looked so fucking good leaning over you, his previously tidy shirt rumpled, his hair in copper waves around his face, his lips a little red from your fevered kisses.

With his ring finger, her drew your panties to the side, his middle fingers gliding through your slit and circling your clit twice. “Already so wet for me, honey. What did I do to deserve such a warm welcome?” he purred, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to your forehead.

Your brain couldn’t formulate a response, his touch mind-numbing. Pleasure radiated form his fingers, syrupy and languid, with none of the frenetic energy from before. A moan slipped past your lips, your eyes fluttering closed as he coaxed your pussy to bloom for him.

“And such pretty sounds.” He rolled up his shirt sleeve with his free hand, exposing the muscles and veins along his thick forearm. Slowly, he slipped his middle finger inside of you, large enough to stretch you slightly.

“Fuck, Charlie,” you whined, raising yourself onto your elbows so you could watch him play with you.

“I suppose I shouldn’t stretch this out too long, someone might come looking for us,” he mused. “But I could spend a fucking eternity spoiling this greedy little pussy.” He slipped another finger into you channel, pumping them a few times just to feel your cunt suck him back in. “Would you like that, love?” He tilted your chin up with his free hand, an unspoken request for an answer.

“Y-yes, Charlie. Please,” you panted, stretching up to steal a quick peck. He deepened the kiss, shifting his weight to press you back down onto the desk as his tongue flirted with yours. His hand picked up the pace, fucking you steadily as he devoured your mouth, teeth skating along your swollen flesh before sucking lightly on your tongue.

You don’t know what God blessed him with such a skilled tongue, but you needed to make an offering in thanks stat.

But since you couldn’t do that…

“Charlie?” You asked, reaching around to touch his wrist between your legs.

He immediately stopped, withdrawing his hand completely. “What’s wrong?” He searched your face for signs of discomfort, his brows drawn together.

You pressed a kiss to his bearded cheek before sliding off the desk. He watched you, confused and concerned, then you lowered yourself to your knees and his jaw went slack.

“Honey, you don’t have to—”

“Please, Charlie?” You batted your lashes up at him, tugging lightly on his belt.

“Merlin’s fucking—I can’t say no to you when you look at me like that, sweetheart.”

“Then don’t,” you teased, undoing his belt and zipper. You could see the outline of his cock against his black boxers, thick and throbbing as you glided your fingers over it.

He sucked in a breath, gripping the edge of the table with one of his hands. Encouraged, you dragged the flat of your tongue over the fabric, feeling the heat of him, the wetness collecting by the swollen head.

“I must have died in the dragon pit and gone to heaven. My god, woman,” he rasped, running his fingers through his hair to keep it from blocking the sight.

You giggled, licking a few more stripes before reaching up to free him. His cock sprung out, veiny and flushed pink. And, to your absolute shock and delight, even his cock was freckled.

“You have the prettiest cock I’ve ever seen,” you praised, and his cheeks flushed pink. You laved your tongue along the thickest vein, earning a throaty groan. You sucked the head into your mouth, lapping up the precum pearling from his slit.

Charlie’s head fell back, one of his hands sliding into your hair. He didn’t add any pressure, just held you as you started to suck him, moving a little further down each time. You wrapped your hand around the base, there was no way you’d fit the entire thing in your mouth, and started pumping him, matching the motions with your mouth. His skin was like velvet, soft and smooth, and you loved feeling him pulse against your tongue with every dip of your head.

“You are too damn good at that. So fucking pretty swallowing my cock.” His thumb stroked your cheek while he gazed down at you, stars in his eyes. “You like sucking me off, honey?”

You nodded as best you could, flicking your tongue at the groove just beneath the head. His hips lurched forward, a grunt escaping through his teeth.

“Fuck, sorry, love. I’m trying to stay still for ya’, but feels so fucking good.”

You reached up and guided his hand into your hair, then used it to push your head down, giving him the best puppy dog eyes you could muster.

He smirked, his hand fisting in your hair. “Whatever you say, gorgeous.” He started moving your head along his shaft, rocking his hips in time with the movements. He went easy at first, but as drool began to track down your chin, your eyes rolling back in bliss, he picked up the pace. But he only fucked your mouth for a few, punishing strokes before lifting you off of him. He slammed his mouth to yours, a harsh, hungry kiss that had you seeing stars.

You whined in protest, but he shushed you by lifting you into the air and setting you on the table once more.

“If you thought I wasn’t going to fuck you, you’re mad,” he gruffed, dragging the hot head of his cock through your pussy lips. “That is, if you still want me to?”

“Yes, fuck, now, Charlie. Please.” You spread your legs a little wider for him,

“Anything for you, love.” He leaned down and kissed you again, sliding his cock into your depths at the same time. The feeling of being filled by him bordered on divine, silken and hot. He was stretching you just enough to leave you with that delicious ache between your legs. You moaned into each other’s mouths, the sounds caught up by his tongue parting your lips and caressing yours.

He drew his hips back, agonizingly slow, letting you feel every inch of one another, before he slammed back in, knocking the air from your lungs. It seemed he was at the end of his control, his grip on your hips bruising as he fucked you hard, jostling the desk beneath you and making the shelves along the walls rock.

“Fuck, Charlie. Feels so good,” you cried, trying and failing to keep yourself quiet as he railed you, every thrust like a lightning strike of pleasure through your body.

“Yeah? You take my cock so well, baby. Wet little pussy squeezing the life outta’ me,” he groaned, his hair tickling your face. “So good f’me, honey. Like you were made for me.”

Your muscles tightened, veering closer and closer to your peak, his praise sending little pulses of bliss your clit.

“You like being praised, baby? Hearing how perfect you are for me? Fuck, I can feel how much you like that, squeezing me so hard.” His hand slipped between you, the rough pads of his fingers rubbing tight circles over you puffy clit. “Come for me, y/n. I know you can. I want to feel you fall apart around me. That’s a good girl—”

Your cry drowned out his praise as your peak crashed over you, visceral and exquisite. The world vanished, blown apart by the burst of starlight in your chest as you came for him. Pulses of pleasure made your body shake and buck, your eyes squeezing shut as he fucked you through it.

“That’s it, honey. Such a good fucking girl. Merlin, you’re gonna make me come.” He rested on his forearms, braced on either side of your head, hitting an entirely new angle as you came back into your body.

“Charlie,” you whimpered, clinging to him. ”I’ve got ya’, love. Don’t worry. Just a little longer—fuck.” A strangled groan broke from his throat and you felt his cock swell, then kick against your walls, the first hot stream of release painting your insides.

He rested his head on your shoulder as he muscles trembled, his hips pressed flush to yours. You wrapped you arms around his shoulders, still weak from that soul-shaking orgasm. His lips passed over your shoulder, your clavicle, up your neck, before finally ghosting of your lips, soft and breathless.

You remained like that for longer than you probably should have, enraptured with one another. You'd been complete strangers a few hours ago, but this wasn't a hook up akin to a one night stand. This was the reunification of two beings, the re-raveling of a soul tie.

“Y/n,” he murmured, kissing your forehead, your temple. “Y/n, y/n, y/n…” He held you like he'd die if he let go.

“Charlie,” you exhaled, nuzzling behind his ear.

“Can I take you to Romania with me?” He whispered, a joke, you presumed, but there was no humor in his voice.

“I've never seen a dragon before—”

The door knob jiggled, and someone pressed against it, the wood groaning.

“Shit.” Charlie jumped backwards, scrambling to right your dress and smooth your hair.

“Hey, Freddie! This doors locked for some reason.”

“Charlie, your dick,” you snickered while he wiped away a smudge of your lipstick.

“Fuck, right.”

“Alohamor—”

“COLLOPORTUS,” Charlie barked out, snatching his wand from his boot.

“Charlie?” George called, knocking on the door.

Charlie tucked you behind him and undid the spell, peeking the door open. “If you say another word, you're dragon food,” he growled, and you had to clap a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing.

“You got a girl in there, mate?” George asked, and you could hear the shit-eating grin on his face.

“George,” Charlie warned.

“Fine, fine. You've got ten minutes before I actually need to get in there.” George knocked once more then strode away, his footsteps disappearing down the hall.

Charlie sagged against the door, exhaling. “I'm sorry, love,” he said, turning to you.

You pecked his cheek. “Don't be sorry, that was the best lay of my life.” You tried to reassure him, despite the curdling sadness in your chest.

A shy smile broke through his serious expression. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “I can only imagine how good it would be when we had all the time in the world,” you murmured against his ear, a shiver rolling down his spine. It was better to leave it like this, flirty, casual, than with whatever…that was.

“I mean, we’ve got ten minutes…”

You patted his chest and slipped out of the door, finding George waiting at the end of the hall, arms crossed.

His jaw dropped. “Y/n!”

Charlie ran out behind you. “I swear to God, George—”

“Are all Weasley's this dramatic?” You closed George's mouth with a finger under his chin.

“Where did—when did—how?” George stuttered, looking back and forth between the two of you.

Charlie smirked, shrugging back on his blazer. “I'll explain when you're older,” Charlie teased. “Would you like a drink, y/n?”

“I'd love one.“ You threaded your arm through his, and together returned to the party.

> Part Two

+ ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . +

Thanks for reading!

If you enjoyed, please check out my published work here.

Much love,

Allie

[starrbishops]

⟡Guilty As Sin⟡

(John Walker x Reader)

Summary: You hate how attracted you are to Walker, and you pull away from him because of it. He notices. - ao3 version

Word Count: 3.8k

Notes: Post-Thunderbolts, reader is a New Avenger and is mentioned to have some kind of super abilites (not plot relevant but it's there), porn with some plot, just reader being horny and then getting to fuck this man, car sex!!!! p in v, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks) reader and John both bully each other during sex, John Walker's praise kink (when will it not make an appearance) Bucky and Bob appearance!

a/n: This one goes out to all my homies who hated John in TFATWS and feel conflicted about finding him really hot in Thunderbolts! I guess he's my boy now bc I was literally the second post on the Walker x Reader tag (????tf????) so here I am once again being horny on main with y'all.

Teasing Walker was practically a team bonding activity. Hell, even the man himself had grown used to it, took it as a show of affection from the other New Avengers. You were one of the main perpetrators of it. John had always pissed you off, from the minute you met in the vault. He’d grown on you significantly since then, although you’d never admit that, especially not to him.

You’d also never admit how down bad you were for him.

You weren’t really sure when it had started. He was an attractive guy, from an objective standpoint. They’d picked him to be Captain America for a reason, and one of those was that he looked damn good. Still, beyond the awareness he was handsome you’d never really thought of him in that way.

That is, until that day. You couldn’t find one of your knives, and you were sure Bucky had stolen it, so you’d ventured down to the training room to confront him. You opened the door, ready to start interrogating him when you were met with the sight of him and John, side by side, doing pull ups in the doorway to the equipment room. Bob stood next to them, counting off as they went. 

You’ve known Bucky for a long time. He’s like an older brother figure to you, someone you couldn’t see romantically if you tried. Seeing him shirtless has no effect on you, other than an instinctual ew. You’ve never seen John shirtless before.

And here you are, speechless, gawking at the guy who you once referred to as ‘Captain Crashout’. His biceps flexed with each lift, the muscle sinewy but hard-earned, gleaming with sweat. Broad shoulders, dabbled with old scars and freckles from too long in the sun. Your eyes fell to his abs, not as clean cut as Bob’s, but still very much there, pulled taut as he raised himself over and over. He was clad in a pair of old gym shorts, which had fallen a little lower than they started out, revealing the beginnings of a sharp v-line, and what you thought was just a smattering of blond hair trailing down.

And the sounds. John has always had a tic of snorting during battle. You call it his gorilla call that he makes when shit gets serious. The way he grunted as he pulled himself up, exerted but determined, gave you goosebumps the more you heard it.

Jesus fucking Christ, when did John get so hot?

He’s a supersoldier, of course. You know he’s strong. You interact with him almost everyday. You’ve seen him carry a crate the size of Yelena with ease. Yet somehow you’d never considered him hot before this. Never once have you looked at John Walker and felt this hot and sweaty all of a sudden, something in your stomach twisting with equal parts nerves and arousal.

You think you’re going insane.

After what feels like an eternity, John dropped, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Fine, you win Barnes.”

Bucky dropped as well, a smug look on his face. “Told you.”

“Hey, well you’re shorter than me, you have less to pull up.”

“By what, 3 inches?”

“3 inches where it counts.” Walker joked. Shit, now you’re thinking about this dick. Don’t look at his crotch. Do not look at his crotch-

“When’d you get here?” you snapped out of it at the sound of Bob’s voice, turning your attention to the other man. 

“Um, around 20?” you guessed, doing your best to keep your eyes off Walker. You blinked hard as you turned to Bucky. “Did you take my Bowie knife?”

He sighed as he toweled himself off. “Shit, yeah. It’s in my bag, I’ll get it.”

“Asshole.”

He just flipped you off as he walked off to the locker room. Bob trails behind him, announcing his need to pee, leaving you alone with Walker. 

You did your best to avoid eye contact, or any visual of him as he lowered himself onto the nearby bench ,grabbing his water bottle. You knew he has a habit of manspreading, which you often tease him about, but now it’s more annoying in that you’re trying desperately not to ogle him.

“Pretty good, huh?”

“What?” you blinked, looking over at his confused face.

“60 pull ups. Maybe not as good as Barnes,” he threw a jilted look at the locker room door, “but still, impressive, huh?”

“Yeah, I uh, guess so.” you stared at the space above his head, arms crossed, praying Bucky finds his damn bag and brings you your knife soon.

“You okay?” John questioned, standing up to approach you. You instinctually took a step back, causing him to stop. “Did I do something?’

“No! No, I’m fine, you didn’t do anything. Just feeling a little off today, maybe I’m getting sick.”

John nodded, unconvinced. “Uh huh.” He took another sip of his water, drawing your eyes to his strong forearms, solid and firm, leading to his large hands gripping the bottle. Were his hands always that big? It’s ridiculous. You wonder what they would feel like gripping your hips.

“Got it.” Thankfully, Bucky reentered, holding out your knife. You swiftly snatched it, stuttering out a thank you and goodbye before you practically ran out the door. John and Bucky just stood there, confused.

After that, you ran to your room, locked the door and screamed into a pillow like a middle school girl.

You know there’s nothing wrong with liking Walker. Sure, he’s real fucked up, but hell, you are too. You’re both trying to be better, all of you on the team are. Your present torment is self-inflicted, part of it being the sheer embarrassment. You can’t seem to let go of your ego, the little voice in your brain bullying you for wanting a man who carries around a shield shaped like a taco.

You’re being ridiculous. 

You’re held back by a fear of screwing things up with him yourself, and therefore for the entire team. You don’t want to ruin what you all have. You’ve all had hard pasts, never really having a group of people that you could rely on till now. You wouldn’t destroy that because you were so, so very horny for one of your teammates.

So you distance yourself. You try not to look him in the eye, lest you start imagining him with his shirt off again. You feel like an old Victorian man who forced ladies to hide their ankles; looking at any part of John makes you feel like you’re going to lose it then burst into flames. Once you went to ask him something and saw him in just a towel, and immediately turned heel and left. He plagues your mind, beyond just the thought of sex. The thought of him, holding you in his arms, whispering into your ear, smiling down at you. 

You do manage to forget how badly you want to fuck him when all of a sudden he’s hurling himself into danger, in front of a hail of bullets that his stupid shield barely covers.

“What the hell were you thinking?” you lecture him as the two of you climb back into the van. You’d been tasked with securing classified S.H.I.E.L.D files from a criminal organization planning to sell them. You’d managed to get them back, but not without a few scrapes and bruises. Honestly, you’re lucky neither of you died because of John’s recklessness, something you’ve told him multiple times now.

“I was thinking of what was best to keep us both safe.” he grumbles as he slams the driver’s door, turning the key in the ignition. “It was a tactical decision-”

“It was a tactical decision,” you mimic his deep voice. “You could’ve died! You’re lucky-”

“Lucky to be alive, I know, I know. What do you even care?” you turn to him, seeing the anger in his eyes, mixed with something else you can’t place.

“Why do I care? Because you’re my fucking friend, John, and I’d rather not see you filled with lead!” “Well, it doesn’t seem that way lately.” he scoffs, eyes moving back to the road.

“What did you say?”

“I’m saying, you’ve been acting crazy lately.” he slams a hand on the wheel. “One day, we’re friends, the next you act like I’m the dirt on your shoe. I-I don’t understand. What did I ever do to you?” he leans back in his seat, defeated. “You’re acting like you don’t care whether I live or die, so fine, if I die, what’s it to you?”

“John,” you sigh, trying to hold it together. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” he sits back up, angrier, more offended than upset. “I’m the one who’s being ridiculous? You’re the one being ridiculous! All this time-” 

He rambles on, leaving your anger at him to simmer in your chest. It mixes with guilt, of being cold to him, not telling him why. He somehow manages to look handsome like this, passionate, full of emotion. Still, you feel your stomach twist knowing you did this, that you hurt him like this. “John, look, I’m-”

“No, I’m not done!” he interrupts. He continues to rant, getting into specifics of your treatment, your apology dying in your throat. What would you even say? I’m sorry I was mean to you, it’s because you’re too fucking attractive and I don’t know how to handle it? 

You forget about all the reasons not to do this. You forget how annoying and brash he can be, all the embarrassing things he does you tease him for. You forget how screwed up you both are, about the team, about everything.

You just lean over the console, grab his face and smash your mouth to his.

He’s quiet, finally, still in shock of what is happening. The second his brain catches up to his body he’s gripping your shoulders, kissing you back with a force. It quickly turns open and messy, tongues desperate for each other as you act on months of frustration and feelings repressed.

You pull back when you run out of air, sliding back into your own seat as he does his. You sit, quiet, thinking about what you’ve done.

“Is that why?” His voice is hoarse from kissing.

You nod. “Yeah. That’s why.”

You’re both quiet again, reeling from your actions. He slowly unbuckles his seatbelt, climbs out of the car. You wonder if you’ve done something wrong, if maybe you misread him.

Then he’s opening your door, and before you can say anything he’s kissing you again, large hands cupping your face in them as he presses his lips to yours, hungry and needy.

He pulls away too quickly, looking at you with a ferocity in his eyes you’ve never seen before. “Do you want this?” he asks, voice low and warning.

“Yes.” you nod. “John I’ve wanted you so bad for-”

You’re both throwing yourselves into each other, not even bothering to finish talking. John’s wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you into him. You yelp as you quickly wrap your legs around him, clinging to him for dear life, still not breaking the kiss.

He kicks the car door shut and presses you up against it, tongue slithering along your bottom lip, asking permission. You give it, sliding your won against him, deepening the kiss. You feel a moan emanate from your throat as you do, feeling like you’re absorbing John into your very being.

He shifts one hand to holding you up as he fiddles with the backseat door, yanking at it unsuccessfully. He finally pulls back, much to your dismay, to pull the damn thing open properly.

“There you go.” you joke.

“Shut up.” he mutters, before pulling you back from the side of the car and gently carrying you into it, laying you on along the backseat.

“Take your clothes off.” he huffs, fiddling with his own as he climbs in, stripping himself of his weapons. You do the same, pulling off piece after piece of tactical gear. 

There’s kevlar everywhere, bulletproof vests thrown haphazardly in the trunk, knives discarded in the front seat. Somehow in a lust-induced craze, the two of you still manage to have some form of organization.

You’ve barely pulled off your shirt before you peer over at Walker, face turned red from exertion, cheat heaving with heavy breaths.

And god, you love looking at his chest. Your eyes meet his, flitting back down in silent communication. Without a word, he nods and you’re on his, straddling him as your hands run along his broad shoulders, teeth nipping at his neck before you kiss the small bites.

He groans, head falling to the crook of your neck as he takes you in, hands gripping your hips like you’ll vanish he doesn’t.

“God, so fucking pretty.” he mumbles, grabbing your chin to pull you back in for anther kiss. One hand trails down towards your arching core, tugging at your waistband. You quickly move to help pull them down, you and John struggling together until finally, the dreaded things are gone. 

He doesn’t bother dealing with your underwear, just pushing your panties aside as he brings a finger to your soaked cunt, you gasping at the sensation of his touch.

“So fuckin’ wet, too, shit.” He trails his digit alon you till he reaches your clit, flicking it, eliciting another sharp gasp from you. “So fuckin’ perfect.”

He brings two fingers to your hole, running them against your folds, coating them in your arousal as you groan. “Fucking hell, John, please.”

“You’re even mean when you’re horny.” he chuckles, you glaring down at him in return as you lower one hand to the bulge in his pants, squeezing it to a sharp inhale from John.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” you palm at his crotch as he tries to form some kind of words. Finally, he gives up, instead pushing his fingers into you, at last granting you the friction you’ve longed for. It’s so much better than those nights you’ve laid along in your bed, picturing him above you as you pleasured yourself on your own fingers. His are thick and calloused, and feel fucking incredible as you pushes in and out of you with ease, eyes never leaving your face.

“God you’re gorgeous,” he mumbles out, “so fuckin’ tight just on my fingers. Wanted this forever…”

“Please, John, need you too-”

“Gotta cum on my fingers before you can cum on my dick, baby.” you clench around him at the pet name, John smirking at the feeling as he quickly adds a third finger. Your nails dig into his bare shoulders as he moves within you, your head thrown back and eyes shut in pleasure,

“Look at me baby.” you obey, opening your eyes to see John’s flushed countenance, blue eyes dark and wide as you drink you in. “Go on, cum for me.”

He scissors his fingers within you, and with a cry, you do. You thank God you’re parked in the middle of some forest in the middle of nowhere as you moan, riding the wave of ecstasy. John doesn’t stop, keeping his pace till you start to come down, taking deep breaths as you loosen your grip.

“You cut me.” you blink, John nodding to his shoulder. You see the places where your nails have left crescent marks, breaking the skin. 

“Oops.” you shrug, still out of breath from your orgasm. “Something to remember me by?”

John purses his lip. “Only fair I get to leave a little something for you.” he turns his attention to your collarbone, kissing and sucking a bruise into it as he circles his thumb on your clit, making you yearn for more even after one orgasm.

“John, please, for fuck’s sake…” you mumble incoherently. Your brain is wired to tease him and even his fingers inside of you will not change that.

He lifts his head, looking down at the bruise he’s left with pride. “Something to remember me by.”

“You are such a teenager.” you sigh, hand reaching down to undo his belt. 

“You’re the one begging me to fuck you.” he grins. His hands meet you there, tugging the leather off and tossing it away as he yanks his tactical pants down just far enough to free his cock.

You can’t help it, you gape it at. He’s thick, and long, a vein running along the underside where you can clearly see. It curves slightly up against his stomach, a bead of precum glistening at the tip. If you weren’t on top of him, you’d lean down and lick it off.

“Shit, do we need a-”

“You’re good. Can’t get pregnant.” you’re already lifting your hips, trying to position yourself over him.

“See, begging.” he teases as he lines up with cock with your cunt, tip rubbing along your folds. “You ready?” he asks earnestly, looking up at you with genuine concern,

You nod. “Walker, if you don’t hurry up and fuck me I swear-”

With that, he pushes into you, silencing you with a moan as you feel yourself stretch around his cock. He’s not too painfully big, the kind of sharp pinch that makes the feeling just that much more sinful.

He groans, head rolling back as he clutches your waist. You’re sure if you looked down you’d see his knuckles turned white.

“Jesus Christ, this fuckin’ perfect pussy,” he mumvles incoherently as he pushes deeper into you. “SO fuckin tight for me, baby.”

Then finally, he sheathes himself fully, with a downright pornographic moan escaping your throat at the sensation, John gives you a moment to adjust, the two of you sitting in silence, save for your shared panting and occasional groans.

You’ve never felt so full, stuffed to the brim with JOhn’s cock, feeling the head just kiss your cervix within you. You breathe deep as you adjust, feeling every part of him, every ridge, vein, curve of his cock.

“God, John, so big…” you trail off as your brain shuts down, thoughts of anything else besides the man in front of you and his dick inside you fading away into static.

“Taking it so good.” he brushes a fallen piece of hair out of your face, a gentle gesture compared to his usually annoying countenance. “So pretty when you’re full of me.”

You nod sharply, your brain still fuzzy with lust and pleasure. You lift your hips, his cock rubbing against your walls before you slide back down, moaning as you do.

You pick up the pace, riding him like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do, because it’s all you’ve wanted for fucking weeks and he feels so fucking good. 

John sucks another bruise into you, this one on your neck, groaning out incoherent expletives as you bounce in his lap, moaning loudly with ecstasy.

Still, you’re exhausted from your mission and your previous orgasm, your pace beginning to falter. Your eyes meet John’s, and without a word he wraps his arms around you, rolling the two of you onto the seat, you on your back with him above you.

You rake your nails over his back, leaving even more scratches as you writhe beneath him. That gentle moment from earlier feels long-gone; John is rough with you, each thrust pounds into you, heavy balls slapping against your ass as you wrap your legs around his waist, trying to pull him in deeper, as deep as he can possibly get. His mussed blond hair frames his face as he fucks into you, his expression concentrated and determined. 

“Feels fuckin’ perfect, perfcct fuckin’ girl beensth me, God I’ve wanted you so bad, so perfect and good.”

“Wanted you too.” you manage to pat out, looking up into John's eyes. “So handsome, John, you’re so good.”

Oh, he liked that. He moans outright, loudly, his thrusts managing to become even harder. You give a raspy moan in reply. 

“Like when I tell you how good you are?” you pant out as you give him a dastardly smile, to which he just grunts in response, “So fuckin’ good, John, love your cock, let you fuck me forever.”

You’re a little cockdrunk, or a lot, head spinning as you clench around him, John pressing his mouth against yours in a bruising kiss. Maybe to shut you up, maybe because he wanted to, who knows. You just know you can feel the pressure building in your stomach, another orgasm on the verge of breaking loose within you.

“John,” you move a hand to his face, running through his beard, gripping the fine hairs as you seek something, anything to hold onto. “Gonna cum, ‘m close.”

“Go on, baby.” he grunts, thrusts growing faster and more erratic, his cock barely leaving you before slamming back in. “Cum all over my cock.”

You grip his shoulders, crying out his name as you cum again, seeing stars as you feel the white-hot waves of pleasure crashing over you. John follows shortly, sheathing himself deep inside you, where you can feel the heat of him cum painting your walls. 

He gives a few weak thrusts, as if he’s trying to fuck his cum further into you. You just groan, eyes squeezed shut, body still feeling like it’s on fire. 

When you open your eyes, you see him above you, panting as he comes down to Earth. He looks even more handsome like this, all sweaty and messy and smelling of sex. 

“Was that,” he exhales, still trying to catch his breath, “Was that good?”

You just stare up at him, before a laugh manages to escape you. He looks a little sad before you pull him down by the nape of his neck, kissing him again, soft and slow.

“Yes,” you say as you lay your head back against the seat. “That was good, John.”

He smiles, not the usual cocky and self-satisfied look, but a genuine smile, a sense of satisfaction flowing through him. He presses a kiss to your collarbone, atop where he’s left a hickey, then to the other, then a third peck to your lips. You giggle a little, running your hands through his messy hair.

“If I’d known all it took to make you stop being an asshole was fucking you, I woulda done it a lot sooner.”

“Well, technically I was the one fucking you”

You groan, exasperated. “God, the fucking technicalities with you.” you look back up at him, tilting your head as you smile. “Am I gonna have to do this again to make you stop?”

He just shrugs, a mischievous look on his face. “Guess so.” he rolls his hips against yours once more, and you can already feel him getting hard again within you.

“Fuck John…” you’re still barely recovered from the first round.

“Hey, thank the serum.” 

a/n: Shoutout to the Tiktok comment where someone called him Captain Crashout bc i immediately jotted that shit down for later use. And thank all of you who've shown my fics so much love!!! I started this as a hobby to practice my writing and I'm genuinely shocked that people really enjoy these.

It ain't much but it's honest work :)

[dakusan]

W h e r e V a m p i r e ! S K Z L i k e s t o B i t e Y o u

Vampire!SKZ OT8 x Reader | eight fangs. eight fixations. and every filthy way they ruin you where it hurts the most

🔞synopsis: You thought you knew desire. You thought you understood sex. Then they bit you. This isn't love. This is hunger. Worship. Power. A kiss laced with venom. A cock buried in your cunt while your blood runs hot down their chin. Eight vampires. Eight bite locations. Eight ways to lose your mind and beg for more.

💌a/n: Welcome to fucking Wreck Me Wednesdays. This was supposed to be “mini.” Instead I wrote eight vampire sex case files with feeding traits, bite kinks, and full-blown NSFW lore. Somewhere between Chan’s heartbite and Han's “mine mine mine,” I lost the plot and my soul. Some are longer. Some are feral. Some are shorter. All of them ruined me and they shall ruin you too. Read responsibly. Stay hydrated. Stretch your legs. Cry in the bathtub. p.s. reblog = consent to be ruined by a vampire. p.p.s. Tell me who broke you. For science. p.p.p.s. pls enjoy the song :3. i will also get to the asks later today, haven't forgotten!

⚠️ warnings: NSFW / 18+ ONLY — minors will be fed to Minho. This series contains graphic vampire smut and feral content not suitable for the emotionally stable | Bloodplay + feeding during sex | Biting (everywhere) | Obsessive/possessive behavior | Power dynamics (soft dom to unhinged dom) | Crying, overstimulation, choking on moans | Praise kink, degradation kink, breeding kink | Fang kinks. Vein kinks. Chest kinks. Thigh kinks. | Oral (receiving + giving), rough sex, soft sex, bubble bath sex, rage sex

📍credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𓆪 BANG CHAN // Abnormal Vampire Obsessed with control. Addicted to your pulse.

🩸PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Neck or heart — where the pulse is loudest. He wants to hear it skip.

💉FEEDING STYLE ‣ Controlled. Lethal. Intimate. ‣ Always timed with orgasm. May edge before bite. ‣ Often restraints you during feeding. Uses voice as a binding tool.

🫀EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Rapid heartbeat. ‣ Dissociation from overstimulation. ‣ Emotional dependency post-bite. ‣ High risk of imprinting.

⚠️PROGNOSIS ‣ Orgasmic blood-loss. ‣ Neck bites mid-thrust = blackout-level pleasure. ‣ Heart bites = ego death. Immediate sobbing. ‣ Lingering soreness + possession marks.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 001 𓆪

"Strip. Slowly."

You're standing in front of him—already trembling, already soaked. He hasn’t touched you. Not yet. Just sits back on the velvet chaise like he’s watching a performance he paid for in centuries. Legs spread. Shirt open. Mouth smiling, fangs peeking. Hands not on you.

Not yet.

You undress like you're unwrapping something forbidden. And his eyes don’t leave your chest. Not even once.

"There," he murmurs when your top hits the floor, voice like silk over blade. "It stutters when you know where I'm going to bite. Do you want it tonight?"

You nod, breathless.

"Words, darling."

"...yes. Please."

It doesn't take long, really it doesn't. Because one second you were putting on a show for him, stripping, peeling layer by later until you were naked and suddenly, you were now laid down on the bed with Chan knelt between your thighs, breathing against your cunt without touching.

With only one single kiss, not touching. Not yet.

"So warm here. You've been aching for me all night, haven't you? Dripping for me. Thinking about how it'll feel when I bite your chest and fuck you until your name melts off your tongue?"

You whimper, nod, hips twitching—but his hands grip your thighs down firm and leans forward, tongue finally moving—not inside you—no, he flicks along your folds. One stroke. One taste. Then stops.

"Mm. You're going to wait for me to bite. I'll have to make you cum with my mouth first."

He eats you out slowly. Sinfully. Like a king savouring dessert before the main course. Fingers spreading you, tongue teasing, lips sucking your clit just barely enough to make your stomach tense. Then he stops. Over and over. Until you're crying, hips grinding, begging.

"Please—Chan, please—fuck—just let me—"

"Let you what?" he says, smiling against your pussy. "Bleed? Break? Cum?"

"Yes—fuck, yes—all of it."

He hums against your cunt like you gave him a goddamn prayer.

"All of it, huh?" He drags his tongue up slowly, catching your clit just to hear the gasp he wrings from your throat. "Then keep those thighs open. Let me earn it."

And he does.

His mouth descends like a curse and a promise, this time not stopping. He licks like he’s reading scripture off your skin. Like he’s memorizing the shape of your moans. Two fingers press in, curling perfectly, while his tongue circles your clit with calculated cruelty. He’s not being sweet—he’s being precise. Every flick, every suck, every curl of his fingers is designed to make your legs tremble and your mind splinter.

“There it is,” he growls into you when your hips start bucking. “So fucking wet, baby. You gonna cum like this? Before I even bite?”

You try to answer. You really do. But it’s already happening. Your stomach tightens, thighs trembling, mouth open on a silent scream as your orgasm crashes down—hot, humiliating, perfect.

He doesn’t stop.

Licks through your orgasm, dragging it out. Groaning low, fingers still thrusting, until you’re gasping, writhing, overstimulated and dripping. Then—finally—he pulls back. Just enough to lift his head.

His mouth is wet. His chin shines with your slick. And his eyes—god, his eyes—are blown wide, black with hunger. “Now you’re ready,” he says, voice darker, lower. “Now you’ll taste right.”

He climbs up your body slowly, kneeing your thighs further apart as he goes. One hand cages your throat—not tight, just present—and the other cups your breast, thumb rubbing lazy circles around your nipple.

And then he leans in. Presses his lips right over your heart. The bite is sudden. Deep.

Your blood floods his mouth, and he moans—moans—like it’s better than sex, like it’s what he’s been starving for. His hips grind against yours as he drinks, hard cock pressing against your folds like a promise. You’re shaking beneath him—your orgasm still echoing, your body pulsing, blood pouring into his mouth like a gift only he deserves.

And then—just when you start to go dizzy—he pulls back. Fangs red. Lips stained. Chest heaving.

“Still with me?” His voice is rough, wrecked with restraint. “Because I’m not done.”

You nod—but barely. Your whole body is trembling, and your vision is hazy, floating from the orgasm and the blood loss and the fact that he bit your fucking heart like it was a fruit he’s waited centuries to taste.

And he’s still fully dressed. Shirt unbuttoned, dark slacks hugging his thighs, belt still on. You’re naked and wrecked and soaked, but he’s untouched. Pressed against you, blood-slick mouth and cock hard against your pussy—but untouched. “Look at me,” he whispers, dragging his fingers down your side, over the bite mark, over your trembling hips. “Look at me while I feed you something else.”

And then he leans back.

Slowly. Casually.

Undoing his belt with one hand, unzipping his pants like he's got all the time in the world. His eyes never leave yours as he slides them down just enough to free himself—his cock thick, flushed dark red, leaking at the tip, veins mapped like sin. You swear it twitches when he sees your thighs shake.

“So fucking pretty like this,” he murmurs, wrapping one hand around the base and giving himself a lazy pump. “Open. Dripping. Ruined. And all for me.”

He strokes himself slow, torturing, his fist sliding up over the head and back down, slicking it with precum while his other hand presses down on your lower belly, keeping you there.

“You feel that?” he asks, dragging the head of his cock through your folds. “That’s mine now. This heat. This slick little cunt. Your blood’s still warm inside me and now I’m going to fuck it back into you.”

You sob. Actually sob. Because even just the way he slides against your folds—up and down, dragging over your clit, teasing your entrance—it’s too much.

“Please, Chan,” you whisper, voice hoarse, “I want you inside—I want to feel it—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can.” He lines himself up. Presses the head in just a little. Just enough to make you gasp. “You’ll take it. Every inch. Slow.”

And he means it.

He pushes in inch by devastating inch, watching your face the entire time—watching your mouth fall open, your eyes flutter, your back arch. You feel every ridge, every vein, the stretch of him parting you slowly like he’s carving space for himself where no one else belongs.

“That’s it,” he groans, voice breaking. “So fucking tight.” Another inch. Another. “God, you’re squeezing me like you missed me.”

You cry out. Not from pain. From pleasure. From the overwhelming fullness, from the feel of him dragging along your soaked, overstimulated walls.

He pauses halfway in. Just pauses—hips pressed flush, cock twitching inside you, breath hot against your cheek.

“You want more?” he asks, fangs still out. “Tell me. Tell me how bad you want me to fill you.”

“Please,” you gasp, tears spilling, voice trembling. “I need it—I need you inside—all of you—fuck, Chan, please.”

His hips snap forward. You scream. He bottoms out with one deep thrust, cock buried to the hilt, and the stretch burns so good.

“There,” he grits, grinding slow, deep, merciless. “That’s what I wanted. That fucking clench. That pretty little scream.” He stays buried in you for a moment—deep—just breathing, letting your walls flutter and your cunt adjust to the full stretch of him. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, trying to lock him in, but he just smirks.

And then he starts.

Slow. Precise. The first few thrusts feel like worship—or punishment—dragging out so achingly slow that your body clenches tighter, trying to chase what he won’t give you. His hips roll, grinding into you, the thick weight of him pressing against every oversensitive inch of your soaked, blood-drunk cunt.

“Fuck, you feel perfect,” he groans, head dropping to your throat as he sets a slow, grinding rhythm. “So fucking warm. So tight. You gonna cry for me again, sweetheart?”

You already are. You’re gasping, eyes glassy, body shaking as he rocks into you with that slow, devastating rhythm. One of his hands cradles your face, the other beside your head, keeping you exactly where he wants you.

And then—he leans in. Mouth dragging across your skin. Kissing your jaw, your cheek, your lips, your throat. Peppering kisses like you’re sacred. His fangs scrape lightly down your neck and you twitch underneath him.

“You like that?” he whispers, lips brushing your ear. “The fangs. The pressure. You want me to bite again, don’t you?”

Your breath stutters. He knows. Of course he knows.

“Not yet,” he murmurs, thrusting deeper. “Not until you cum on my cock. Not until I’m so deep you forget how to speak.”

He picks up the pace now—still controlled, but faster. Harder. The sound of skin slapping, of your soaked cunt swallowing him in, fills the room along with your moans. Your nails drag down his back. Your hips rise to meet his.

“That’s it. Take it, baby. Take all of me. That greedy little pussy was made for me, wasn’t it?”

You nod frantically. “Yes—fuck, yes—made for you, only you—”

He kisses you. Hard. Bruising. Tongue sliding past your lips like he owns your mouth too. And when he pulls back, his eyes are pitch black, fangs still bared, lips red from your blood.

“Say it again.”

“Made for you,” you cry. “Yours. Only yours.”

“Good fucking girl.”

His pace snaps harder now—deep, perfect strokes—one hand gripping your thigh, the other pressed firm against your throat. His body curves over yours, keeping you pinned while he fucks you like he’s staking a claim inside your cunt.

Your legs tighten around him. Your belly coils. You feel your orgasm building—hot and sharp and dizzying.

“You gonna cum again?” he pants, rutting harder now. “Gonna let me feel it? Let me feel that pretty little pussy milk me while I drink from your heart again?”

You sob. You nod. You beg.

“Please, please—bite me—fuck, Chan—please—”

And that’s all it takes. He thrusts deep, one last time, grinding hard against your cervix, and then bites—again—right over your heart.

You cum instantly. Your walls clench so hard around his cock it triggers his own orgasm—thick, hot, flooding you as he groans into your skin, drinking and thrusting and owning you. When he finally pulls back, he’s panting, licking the wound tenderly. Your body’s trembling—soaked, stuffed, claimed—and he just looks down at you like you’re a masterpiece.

Chan leans down, kissing your lips so softly now. "You're mine sweetheart. Bloody, body, soul."

𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇 𓆪 LEE KNOW // Abnormal Vampire Sadist in silk. Devours screams. Fuck-first, feed-later type.

🩸 PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Inner thigh — where you're softest, where you beg hardest.

💉 FEEDING STYLE ‣ Slow. Pain-laced. Erotic. ‣ Often feeds while fucking from behind. ‣ Fingerplay first—he has to feel you fall apart before the bite.

🫀 EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Shaking legs. Sore hips. Oversensitive clit. ‣ Mind-fracture from orgasm + blood loss combination. ‣ Known to cause dehydration, bruising, and uncontrollable sobbing. ‣ Marked behavioral changes: submission, clinginess, obsession.

⚠️ PROGNOSIS ‣ Orgasm coincides with bite. Scream = trigger. ‣ Thigh bites may cause blackout + limp for 2–3 days. ‣ Post-bite euphoria. Known to whisper “again” while you’re still twitching. ‣ Irreversible addiction risk. Do not engage without safe word.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 002 𓆪

“You’re not gonna cum until I tell you to. Understand?”

His voice is silk-coated steel—low and lethal. You’re on your back, naked, legs spread wide on the silk sheets, with Lee Know fully clothed beside you. Not even undressing. Just watching. Eyes dragging over your soaked cunt like it’s something he owns. Like it exists to be ruined.

You nod, desperate.

“Use your words.” His eyes narrow, lips curling with warning. “If you want my fingers inside you, you’d better earn them.”

“Yes. I understand,” you breathe. “Please—Minho, I need it—”

He hums, finally moving. One hand strokes up your thigh, so gentle it makes you shiver. “So polite,” he murmurs. “And already dripping. All this for me?”

Two fingers press between your folds, parting you slowly. You moan. He doesn’t move fast—he just teases. Up and down, collecting slick. Spreading it messily across your clit before tapping it, sharp and precise.

You jerk. He laughs softly.

“No cumming, sweetheart,” he reminds you, before pushing a finger in.

You moan, clenching instantly. He’s slow at first, curling upward to find that spot, rubbing it deliberately. Then a second finger. Scissoring, stretching. His thumb rubs lazy circles over your clit, but never enough. Never fast.

And when you start to tighten around him, about to tip over—he pulls out.

You scream. He smiles.

“Again,” he says, and starts over. Fingers, curl, rub, drag—stop. Over. And over. By the fourth time, your body’s twitching. Your thighs shake. Your hands are fisting the sheets. “Minho—fuck, please—I’m going to lose it—”

“Good.” He leans over, mouth brushing your ear. “Then maybe you’ll behave.”

He grabs your hips, flips you over in one smooth motion—onto your knees, chest to the sheets. One hand presses between your shoulder blades, forcing your spine into a perfect arch. The other? Slipping down to play with your pussy again.

“You’re so wet baby,” he murmurs, dragging his fingers back through your folds. “I’ve barely done anything.”

You sob into the sheets. Then you feel it—his tongue. On your inner thigh. Not your pussy. Not yet. Just slow, deliberate licks on the sensitive skin right near your pulse point.

You freeze.

“Oh, did you think I’d forgotten about the bite?” he purrs.

He kisses the skin first. Then bites. His fangs sink in with a sharp, hot pain that melts instantly into pure fucking ecstasy. Your vision goes white. Your arms give out. You cry out, body trembling as blood leaves you in slow, sensual pulses.

And the second his mouth pulls back—

He’s undoing his pants.

You hear the belt unbuckle. The zipper lower. Then feel it—his cock, thick and flushed, dragging through your soaked folds. “You want this?” he asks, voice darker now. “Want to be fucked while your thighs are still bleeding?”

“Yes—fuck, yes—please—”

He slides in.

No warning. No mercy. One smooth, brutal thrust that knocks the air out of you. His hips slam into your ass, cock buried to the hilt, and he groans—deep and guttural—like he just found heaven inside your cunt. “Fuck,” he pants, grabbing your hips with bruising force. “So tight. Still twitching from that bite?”

He doesn’t wait.

He starts moving. Deep, hard thrusts that punch cries from your throat. Your back arches, cheek pressed to the sheets as he fucks you in a perfect rhythm—every stroke hitting exactly where you need him.

And he does not stop.

“Cry for me,” he growls, slapping your ass. “Scream. Let them hear how good I fuck what’s mine.”

You scream. You cry. You babble his name like a prayer.

“That’s right,” he hisses, hips snapping faster. “Fucking perfect.”

You’re gone. Broken. Bleeding. Full. And when your orgasm is close, when you're just about to cum—he doesn’t stop you. “Let go,” he pants. “Give it to me. I want to feel this cunt strangle my cock.”

You do. You collapse, sobbing, shaking, cumming so hard your thighs go limp. But he doesn’t stop.

Minho groans through his teeth and keeps thrusting—fucking you through your orgasm like he’s chasing something deeper. His grip bruises your hips, cock dragging through your soaked, fluttering walls, harder now, rougher.

“You sound so pretty when you break,” he mutters, voice wrecked. “I can feel it. Every pulse. Every squeeze. You're milking my cock like you want me to stay inside forever.”

You whimper, twitching under him, nerves fried, cunt still clenching in aftershocks. Your body is shaking—numb, overstimulated—but he fucks you through it, like you owe him every second.

“I’m close,” he growls, burying himself deep. “Gonna fill you up—fuck, just like this—”

A sharp snap of his hips, one final grind—and then he spills into you with a broken sound, teeth bared, fangs glinting. His cum is hot, thick, flooding your sore cunt as he presses as deep as he can, breathing hard against your spine.

But he’s not done. Not even close.

The second his cock slips free—wet and dripping with both of you—he’s flipping you over again. Your body’s limp, arms trembling, blood drying sticky on your thigh. You can barely focus. Barely breathe.

But you feel him. The press of his mouth. The heat of his breath.

“Still bleeding here,” he murmurs, fingers parting your thigh. “And you’re still so warm.”

He doesn’t give you time to answer before he bites again.

Same thigh. New wound.

You scream—not from pain, but from the crash of sensation. The moment his fangs sink in, your body floods with another unbearable wave. You’re twitching, crying, clenching around nothing—your cunt soaked, still dripping his cum—while he drinks, slow and deep.

Every pull of his mouth makes your stomach tighten. Your hands claw at the sheets. You’re delirious—gone—his mouth on your thigh, blood leaving in perfect rhythm with the mess between your legs.

He moans softly against your skin. Then he pulls back. Lips stained. Fangs gleaming. Blood running down your thigh like a love letter written in ruin.

He crawls over your body, eyes dark and hungry still. “I’m not done with you yet,” he murmurs, licking the blood from his lips. “But I’ll let you rest…”

One hand strokes your cheek, surprisingly soft.

“For now.”

𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐑 𓆪 SEO CHANGBIN // Normal Vampire Made of muscle, menace, and moans..

🩸 PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Below the ribs or just above the hipbone

💉 FEEDING STYLE ‣ Possessive. Worshipful. ‣ He growls when he drinks, like it's carnal. ‣ Usually feeds during sex. Leaves deep bruises around the wound from how hard he grips.

🫀 EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Breathless moaning. ‣ Clawing, overstimulated orgasms. ‣ Emotional grounding. Heightened intimacy. ‣ High likelihood of imprinting if bitten more than once.

⚠️ PROGNOSIS ‣ Feral rut-level fucking. ‣ Bruised hips, shaky legs, blood-drunk sobs. ‣ Bite leaves a phantom heat that spreads like wildfire. ‣ Will absolutely carry you to a bath after and tell you you did so well.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 003 𓆪

You were teasing him. You didn’t mean to—but you were.

The corset was tight. The skirt was short. Your lipstick matched the red of your bite mark from two nights ago. You were only supposed to drop off the file he needed but you knew what the outfit would do to him. What it always did.

And the moment he looked up from his desk and saw you?

All bets were off.

He’s already panting when he slams the door shut behind you. One heartbeat later, you're pinned to the wall—hard. His broad chest flush against your back, his breath already ragged and hot against your ear.

You hear the low, animalistic growl deep in his chest before you feel it—rumbling through you like a warning.

Or a promise.

Because you’re standing there in his office after midnight, wearing nothing but a black lace corset that cups your breasts high, a tiny pleated skirt that barely covers your ass, and delicate panties—thin, sheer, soaked. Stockings, too. Garter belt. Lip gloss still shimmering.

You knew what you were doing.

And so does he.

“Take that shit off,” he growls, voice already thick with bloodlust and need.

You turn—barely—and meet his eyes. They’re black. Fully fucking black.

And you’re soaked.

“Changbin—” you whisper, breath hitching, thighs pressing together. It’s not a protest. It’s a plea.

He doesn’t wait. Doesn’t ask. One sharp tug and your corset jerks loose at the back—ripped. Another growl, and your panties are shredded in his hands, lace in tatters. The air hits your bare skin and you whimper.

“You fucking tease,” he snarls, grabbing a handful of your ass. “Walking in here dressed like this? Like a fucking offering?”

You squeak as he grabs you under the thighs and lifts—one arm. Just one arm and you're airborne, slammed back against the wall like you weigh nothing to him.

Because to him? You’re not fragile. You’re his.

His mouth crashes into yours—hot, brutal, claiming. His tongue is deep before you can breathe. Fangs brush your lower lip and nick the skin just enough for blood to bloom, sweet and fresh, and he moans against your mouth.

“You wore this for me?” he growls between kisses. “Fucking knew it. Knew you were trying to get ruined.”

You nod frantically, breathless. “Please—need it—need you—”

Then he drops. To his knees. Fast. Like gravity yanked him straight down. He’s still fully dressed in black slacks, fitted shirt, sleeves rolled up. Muscles bulging, chest heaving, mouth already parted. And you? You’re bare now—corset loosened, panties gone, skirt hiked up around your waist, legs trembling over his shoulders.

Your back hits the cold wall. Your pussy is right at his eye level. And he looks up at you like he’s about to worship you.

Or destroy you.

“Fucking look at you,” he growls, dragging his thumbs up your inner thighs to spread you wider. “You're soaked. All this for me?”

You can’t speak. You nod. His smirk turns feral. “Good.”

He doesn't waist a second, Changbin devours you.

No teasing. No buildup. His tongue dives in like he’s starving—wide and wet, licking through your folds with a brutal, messy hunger that makes you cry out on impact.

“F-fuck—Changbin—”

He groans. Moans into your pussy like it’s his favorite meal, nose buried, chin soaked, lips dragging up your slit again and again until they’re flushed and swollen with your slick. His tongue curls up to your clit—flicks, circles, sucks. Sloppy and relentless.

Then?

He starts making out with it.

No joke. Full mouth. Open, hot, filthy kisses against your cunt—like he’s Frenching your pussy with every ounce of his desperate need. Tongue moving deep inside, then sliding up to wrap around your clit, sucking hard, then soft, then hard again. Over and over.

Your legs are shaking on his shoulders.

He drags one arm around your ass, pressing you closer to his mouth, while his free hand slides two thick fingers inside—curling, fucking, spreading your walls until you're gasping like you’re being split open.

He’s growling into your cunt, fingers pounding, tongue flicking your clit like he’s trying to drag the orgasm out of you with brute force.

“Come on,” he pants between slurps. “Give it to me. Cum on my tongue, baby—now—”

Your scream tears through the room. It breaks you. Your orgasm hits like a punch to the gut—raw, loud, endless. Your whole body locks. Your thighs clamp around his head. Your vision goes black for a second.

And he fucking loves it.

Keeps sucking through it. Fingers still thrusting. His mouth sealing over your clit again as if your climax is what he’s been waiting for all day.

Only when you’re gasping, limp, twitching—only then does he finally rise.

And fuck, he looks good.

Mouth soaked. Chin gleaming. Eyes still black. Fangs bared.

You barely have time to catch your breath before his hands are moving—fast. Belt undone with a sharp snap, pants shoved down, briefs yanked below his thighs. His cock springs free—thick, flushed, already leaking at the tip. Harder than sin.

You don’t even get a chance. Because suddenly—he lifts you. Again. Effortlessly. Strong arms under your thighs, back slammed against the wall. And this time, he doesn’t wait.

He slams into you.

One thrust—brutal, perfect—and he’s fully inside. Stretching you open. Your head rolls back, mouth open in a soundless scream as your cunt grips him like a vice.

“Fuck—yes,” he snarls against your throat. “That’s it—tight little pussy—knew you could take it.”

He doesn’t stop.

He fucks you into the wall. Rough. Desperate. Fast and deep and relentless. The slap of skin on skin echoes, your moans ricochet off the walls, and his name is the only thing you remember how to say.

“Changbin—Changbin—oh fuck—”

He groans against your skin. “You’re mine.”

And then?

He bites. Hard.

Right into your neck—fangs sinking deep, blood spilling into his mouth like wine from a sacred chalice. You scream, thighs trembling, orgasm threatening again just from the pain, the pressure, the possessive violence of it.

But he’s not done.

He licks the bite. Bites again—your shoulder this time. Then your collarbone. Then your neck again.

Everywhere.

Like he needs you in his mouth, over and over, just to stay grounded. Like drinking you is the only thing keeping him sane. His cock is ruthless inside you—dragging through your soaked walls, pounding harder each time you clench around him.

Your head spins.

He’s drunk on you. Absolutely gone.

“Fucking addictive,” he snarls. “Gonna mark you everywhere. Fill you up. Drain you dry. Fuck—this pussy’s perfect—squeezing me like it wants to bleed.”

Your hands claw at his back. Your nails dig into his shoulders. He loves it. Groans from deep in his chest. Slams into you even harder.

“Take it,” he growls. “Fucking take it. All of it. Don’t you dare stop squeezing me—make me cum, baby.”

You do.

Your orgasm hits again, body seizing, cunt fluttering around his cock like it’s made to wring him dry—and he loses it.

With a guttural snarl, he slams in deep—hips grinding, cock twitching as he spills inside you in heavy, scorching pulses.

But he doesn’t pull out.

Doesn’t move.

Just stays there—cock buried, teeth still scraping your neck, hands fisting in your hair and thigh like you’re the only thing anchoring him to this plane.

He pants. Shudders. Then licks your wounds. Gently. Worshipfully.

“Mine,” he whispers, pressing kisses to every bite mark. “Fucking mine. And I’m never letting go.”

𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐍 𓆪 HWANG HYUNJIN // Abnormal Vampire Beauty made ruin. Moans like a prayer. Kisses like a curse.

🩸 PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Pulse points — wrists, neck, inner thighs

💉 FEEDING STYLE ‣ Hypnotic. Addictive. Laced in poetry and pain. ‣ Always bites during orgasm. Sometimes mid-cry. ‣ Tongue traces first. Fangs follow like a kiss you asked for in a dream.

🫀 EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Euphoria-induced sobbing. Clutching, clawing, surrendering. ‣ Heart palpitations, glossy eyes, speech loss ‣ Often left with multiple bite marks in one session—each placed like a secret

⚠️ PROGNOSIS ‣ Known to say “You’re mine” while you’re still moaning. ‣ Multiple orgasms expected. Blood + sex high overlap. ‣ Post-bite daze may last hours. Often found still shaking in his arms. ‣ Extreme bond-forming. Danger of becoming his favorite. And never leaving.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 004 𓆪

You feel him before you see him.

That overwhelming stillness, the kind that drowns out thought. Your breath catches—and then there he is, walking in like a vision, black silk shirt half-buttoned, pale chest glistening, golden hair slightly damp like he’s just stepped out of a dream.

Hyunjin doesn't speak at first. He just walks toward you. Barefoot. Soft steps. Eyes fixed on you like you’re the only thing in the world that exists.

And then?

“You wore my favorite,” he murmurs, fingertips brushing the strap of your lace slip. “Ivory. Like fresh canvas.”

His lips ghost over your collarbone. Not a kiss. Not yet.

“I’ve been thinking about this,” he whispers, “all night. What color you’ll bleed for me. What sound you’ll make when I make you fall apart.”

You tremble.

He lifts your chin gently, eyes gleaming obsidian. “Lie back, baby. Let me paint.”

You obey, shivering as you settle onto the bed—bare skin against cool silk, thighs pressed together from sheer need. He doesn’t make you wait long. Just climbs over you slowly, like you’re delicate, precious, sacred.

And then his mouth is on your wrist. Kissing. Worshipping.

“I’ll start here,” he breathes. “Where your pulse is softest.”

The bite is slow. Precise. A sharp flash of heat as his fangs pierce your skin, followed by dizzying pleasure—almost like he’s sipping your soul. He groans, low and ruined, as your blood coats his tongue.

“Mmm… divine,” he whispers against your wrist, pulling back only to let the droplets smear along his lips. “But I want more.”

His hands trail down. One over your breast, teasing your nipple, the other slipping between your thighs.

“You’re soaked,” he hums, licking the blood off his fingers. “Did you get this wet just from the bite?”

You nod. He smiles like it’s the best thing he’s ever seen.

Then—he spreads you.

Kisses down your body, trailing open-mouthed devotion from your chest to your stomach, thighs, then—

“Oh, fuck—Hyunjin—”

He groans as he reaches your cunt, breathing deep. “So pretty,” he murmurs, “and all mine.” Hyunjin leans in to press a kiss over your clit. Soft. Like the place between your legs is a cathedral and he's repenting with every breath.

His lips brush your folds. Once. Twice. Then his tongue flattens against your clit, slow and wide, dragging up until your hips twitch off the bed.

“Sweet,” he breathes, eyes fluttering closed. “So fucking sweet—like nectar, like stars, like sin.”

You moan.

He moans louder.

Because Hyunjin isn’t just eating you out. He’s savoring. Every lick is long and deliberate, every press of his tongue a whispered poem. He swirls around your clit—soft at first, then pointed—then sucks it into his mouth with such aching, focused gentleness you cry out without warning.

“Hyunjin—”

He groans at the sound of his name. The vibration floods through your cunt.

“Say it again,” he whispers against you, then kisses your clit again like it’s your mouth. “Please. Sing for me.”

“Hyunjin—fuck—please—”

You can’t help it. You’re squirming, writhing, lost beneath him. Your thighs tremble around his head but he doesn’t let go. One arm wraps behind your waist, anchoring you to his mouth like he can’t stand the idea of you pulling away.

His tongue starts to move faster—up, down, circle, suck—messy, wet, worshipful.

Slurping sounds fill the air. His own moans grow desperate. He drags you closer, face buried deep, nose pressed against your clit, tongue flicking mercilessly now. Like he’s not kissing anymore—he’s feasting.

You sob.

You’re panting his name like a spell now. Your back arches. Your thighs clamp.

His fingers dig into your skin. His tongue curls up and in. Every noise you make feeds him. Fuels him. Until he’s drunk on it. High on it.

High on you.

When you cum, it’s violent. Like drowning in silk. You clench around nothing, but feel everything. Your body locks. Your mind breaks. Your mouth opens—but nothing comes out.

And Hyunjin just groans. Like your orgasm was inevitable. A masterpiece finished.

He licks you through it. Sucks gently on your clit like he’s coaxing the last bits of your soul out through your cunt. Then another kiss. And another. Until he finally slows, breath ragged, mouth glossy with you.

His eyes rise to meet yours. Black. Dilated. Reverent.

Your breathing’s still erratic. Limbs heavy. The aftershocks of your orgasm ripple through you in soft, involuntary flinches. And Hyunjin just watches. Licks his lips, eyes locked on the trembling between your thighs like it’s the final frame of a painting he’s not done signing.

Then? He shifts.

You barely register it until his mouth is on your inner thigh.

Not rushed. Not greedy. Just—gentle. Open-mouthed kisses along the softest part of you. His fangs slide out.

You feel the sharp brush of them ghost over your skin. He drags them softly, so softly, up the inside of your thigh, until your hips twitch from the sheer anticipation.

Then—

The bite.

It’s deep. Precise. His fangs sink into the flesh of your inner thigh like they were made for this—like your body was crafted just for his teeth. The sting is immediate, yes, but it blooms so quickly into pleasure that your head falls back, lips parted in a choked gasp.

Hyunjin groans the moment your blood hits his tongue.

His hands grip your thighs tighter, anchoring you as he drinks. Slow at first. Then deeper. His throat works in soft, rhythmic swallows. You can hear it. The slick sound of him feeding.

And all the while—he moans.

Like he’s tasting divinity. You try to move. He growls. “Stay still.” he breathes against your wound.

He licks the blood as it trails, mouth sticky and stained. Then another kiss. Another bite. This time, just a little higher—closer to where he just worshipped you with his tongue.

You gasp. The pleasure-pain bursts behind your eyes.

“Hyunjin—please—”

He hums your name into your skin. Wipes his mouth on your thigh like a signature. Then finally climbs up your body, hovering above your face. Eyes on your perfect pillowy lips, but he doesn't kiss immediately. He just hovers. Lets you see the blood on his lips—your blood—before whispering: “You’re mine, now. I’ll paint you in bruises and bites."

Then he kisses you.

Tongue deep. Copper-sweet. Blood-warm and you melt. Melt like puddle in his arms. His arms, exactly where you belong.

𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑 𓆪 HAN JISUNG // Normal Vampire Chaos incarnate. Bites first, thinks later. Addicted to your blood and your moans—equally.

🩸 PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Side of the neck ‣ Also: your chest, your fingers, your thighs—he’s not picky. Just rabid.

💉 FEEDING STYLE ‣ Chaotic, breathless, unrestrained. ‣ Often bites mid-fuck or right after you cum. ‣ Will feed and finger you at the same time, panting into your blood. ‣ Tastes you like he’s making out with your pulse.

🫀 EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Overstimulation. Dizziness. Bite-high. ‣ Orgasms feel drugged—like you're floating underwater. ‣ Can trigger full-body shivers, sobbing, giggles, and collapsing. ‣ Irregular heartbeat post-bite. Known to laugh while you cry.

⚠️ PROGNOSIS ‣ Bite syncs with his orgasm. ‣ Feeds multiple times in one session—don’t expect to walk. ‣ Cums from your taste. Known to say “I need you again” before he’s even pulled out. ‣ Proceed with caution: addiction is mutual.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 005 𓆪

Han Jisung is already naked.

He wasn’t supposed to be. He was supposed to wait. But the second you walked into his apartment—short skirt, bare thighs, lipgloss still wet—he lost his fucking mind. Clothes gone. Fangs out. The kind of wide, dangerous grin that promised disaster and begged for it, too.

“You’re gonna ride me, yeah?” he pants, back hitting the bed with a thud. “Wanna see your tits bounce while I bite you.”

You swallow. Nod.

“No, no—c’mon,” he grins, already breathless. “Say it. Say you’re gonna ride me like you mean it.”

“I’m gonna ride you, Ji,” you whisper, crawling over him. “So fucking hard.”

“Fuck yes—” His head drops back, eyes fluttering. “My girl.”

You straddle him, feeling his cock hot and thick between your folds. He’s already leaking, already twitching beneath you. Your slick coats him in seconds. But he doesn’t thrust—no, he waits. Lets you drag your hips up and down until you’re both dizzy with it.

And then—you sink down.

“FUCK—” he cries, hands flying to your hips, gripping so tight you’ll bruise. “Shit—so warm—so tight—don’t move—fuck, baby, let me feel you like this—”

But you move anyway.

Start slow. Grinding your hips in circles, milking moans from his throat. He looks wrecked—sweaty, flushed, eyes half-lidded and glowing red. One hand sneaks up to grope your tits. The other stays on your hip, flexing with every grind.

When you start bouncing? He chokes.

“God—fuck—ride me—ride me, baby, please—”

You do.

Faster. Harder. Until your thighs burn and your pussy tightens with each drop. His mouth is everywhere—licking your collarbone, mouthing at your nipples, biting into your neck without warning.

He drinks. Moans into the wound. Licks the blood like it’s the only thing tethering him to earth.

You scream.

Not from pain—from pleasure so sharp it cuts. He pulls back, blood smeared on his lips, gasping like you just fucked the soul out of him. “You taste like heaven,” he whispers. “Fuck—I’m gonna cum—baby, cum with me, ride me until we break—”

You do. Together.

A shared orgasm that hits like a freight train. Your cunt tightens around him in rhythmic spasms, and he holds you through it—groaning, babbling praise, licking blood from your skin while he cums so hard his whole body shudders beneath you.

But he’s not done.

Because your chest is rising and falling—vulnerable, flushed—and he leans up, presses one last kiss between your tits.

Then bites again.

And again.

And again.

Your body’s still trembling. Muscles twitching. Slick and cum sliding down your thighs where he’s still buried deep inside you, twitching with aftershocks.

But Jisung?

He’s laughing.

Low. Breathless. A little too unhinged to be safe.

“You’re still warm,” he pants, lapping at your collarbone like it’s glazed in sugar. “Still fucking clenching around me. You’re gonna kill me, baby.”

You try to answer. You really do. But your brain has melted. Your mouth just opens—gasping—and that’s when he bites again.

Right above your heart.

You scream. Loud and broken. His fangs sink into skin like it’s the only place he belongs—like he can claim you from the inside out. He drinks like you’re water and he’s been parched for centuries. Moans like your blood makes him high. His cock twitches inside you, still half-hard and swelling again.

“Fuck—” he breathes, pulling back, his lips coated crimson. “You’re sweeter here. I knew you would be.”

Then he tilts his head. Looks down.

Sees it.

His cum.

Dripping out of your pussy like melted candlewax. A creamy mess of lust and love and loss of control. “Oh my fucking god,” he groans, manic. “I made you drip like this?”

A pause, a sharp inhale.

“Addicted,” he whispers. “Completely fucking addicted. You don’t even know—baby, I need—”

He bites again. Your shoulder this time. Then the other side of your neck. Then the curve of your breast.

He kisses each one after, messy and frantic, tongue smearing blood and spit across your skin like a mad artist painting his masterpiece.

And then?

He flips you. Again.

Pins you down now, hands on either side of your head, his mouth dragging over your body like he can’t choose where to ruin you next. I want to fuck you again,” he confesses, breath shaking. “Want to stay inside forever. Want to drink until I forget my name.”

“You already did,” you whisper, hoarse.

He grins. Wide. Bloody.

“Good.”

And then he bites again. This time? Your mouth.

Kisses you so hard his fangs nick your lip. Blood trickles in. He licks it up like a shot of liquor, hands gripping your thighs, your ass, your tits—anywhere he can touch.

"I love you. Mine, mine, mine forever."

𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑 𓆪 LEE FELIX // Abnormal Vampire Soft on the surface, deadly underneath. Sleeps in silk, fucks like a fever dream.

🩸 PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Over the heart or the curve of your breast

💉 FEEDING STYLE ‣ Gentle at first. Almost shy. Kisses before teeth. ‣ Feeds while holding you close—rocking, murmuring sweet things into your skin. ‣ But when hunger takes over? He gets lost. Mouth drunk. Eyes glazed. Almost feral.

🫀 EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Full-body shivers. Skin hypersensitive. ‣ Overstimulation from prolonged oral + emotional collapse after the bite. ‣ Heightened affection post-bite—clinginess, sobbing, echo-pleasure. ‣ Bite mark often becomes an erogenous zone.

⚠️ PROGNOSIS ‣ Dreamwalkers induce trance-like states in partners. Bite can cause mild hallucinations. ‣ Reader may experience floating sensation + blackout orgasms. ‣ Blood-sharing with Felix forms rapid bond. Extremely addictive. ‣ Warning: prolonged exposure may result in crying during aftercare. And begging for more.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 006 𓆪

The penthouse is quiet when you return.

Shoes off. Dress unzipped. Champagne still singing in your veins from the gala. Felix walks in behind you, shrugging off his velvet blazer, golden curls loose around his temples, skin glowing under soft amber lighting.

He looks too good—black silk shirt open at the chest, fangs glinting behind his smile, eyes already darker than they should be. Not hunger. Something else.

Devotion.

"You were perfect tonight," he murmurs, fingers ghosting your waist as he draws you toward the bathroom. “But I didn’t like sharing you.”

Your heartbeat stutters. “You weren’t exactly subtle either,” you whisper, recalling the way his hand had stayed glued to your lower back all evening, lips to your ear at every chance, voice dipped low with possessive undertones. Like you were his prize.

His worship.

His next meal.

Felix chuckles. “No. I wasn’t.”

The tub fills behind you—steaming, lavender-scented, full of white foam and rose petals. His idea, of course. He always did prefer indulgence after restraint.

He helps you in like you’re made of porcelain. Your skin sinks into the warmth with a sigh. Felix climbs in after, settling behind you, legs spread so you’re seated snugly between them. Your back hits his bare chest, and already, you can feel it.

The thrum beneath his skin. The restraint snapping thread by thread.

“You wore that dress to kill me,” he murmurs, mouth against your neck. “Slit up to your hip. No bra. Lace so sheer I could see the curve of your nipples under every chandelier.”

You smile. “And?”

“And now I’m going to take my time with you.”

His hands cup your breasts from behind. Thumbs flicking your nipples. Bubbles cling to his wrists, his forearms. His lips drag up your neck. Soft. Featherlight.

Then sharp.

A kiss first—then a bite.

Fangs sink in, clean and deep, right beneath your jaw. You gasp, head falling back against his shoulder as the pain melts into pleasure. He drinks slow—just a few sips, just enough to make you squirm—and licks the wound clean with a reverent groan.

“So sweet tonight,” he whispers. “You taste like champagne and sin.”

You whimper.

His hands trail lower. One slips down between your thighs, parting you under the water, fingers pressing into your cunt with aching care. The other? Gliding over your thigh, then gripping it, spreading you wider for him.

He doesn’t tease.

Two fingers sink in—slick, hot, stretching you open as the water laps around you. His thumb finds your clit, circles slow and steady. The angle is perfect. Deep. Focused.

"You always take me so well,” he breathes into your skin. “Even when you’re trembling.”

You are. Shaking, helpless, your body already wrung too tight. The bite. The warmth. The way he touches you like he’s composing a symphony.

And then—he pulls you closer.

“Ride me,” he whispers. “Like you did the last time I fed on your heart.”

You whimper. Turn in his arms, straddling him with the water sloshing over the edge. His cock is already hard, flushed, pressed against your stomach as you rise onto your knees.

He watches you. Eyes half-lidded. Blood-drunk.

When you sink down on him—slow, stretching around his thick length—you both moan. Your nails dig into his shoulders. His hands grip your waist like he’s anchoring himself to reality.

“Fuck—baby—you feel like velvet,” he chokes out. “So wet. So fucking warm—”

You start to move.

The rhythm is gentle at first. Slippery skin, heavy breaths, the sound of water shifting with every roll of your hips. Felix bites your shoulder. Then your collarbone. Then lower, tongue lapping blood before it cools, fangs sinking in again like he’s trying to mark every inch.

You're bleeding. You're riding. You're both coming undone.

“Look at you,” he groans. “Dripping for me. Bleeding for me. My perfect little canvas.”

Your orgasm builds like a tide—slow, inevitable. His cock hits all the right places, his hands guiding you faster, his mouth sealing over your throat for one final bite as he moans into your skin.

“Cum for me,” he pants. “Feed me while you fall apart.”

Your whole body tenses—like a wave crashing against fragile glass.

And then it shatters.

You break apart on him with a choked cry, thighs trembling, nails clawing down his back. Your orgasm ripples out in hot, helpless pulses, cunt fluttering around him, blood still seeping slowly from your bitten throat as you collapse forward into his arms.

Felix growls.

The sound vibrates through his chest, deep and guttural—feral with need. His mouth seals tighter around your neck, and he drinks as you shake through your climax. Every pull of his lips sends fresh aftershocks rolling through you. You're twitching, overstimulated, undone.

“That's it,” he whispers, lips stained, eyes fluttering shut in bliss. “That’s my angel. Give me everything.”

He swallows every drop like he needs it to survive. Like your pleasure is the only thing that can keep him sane.

When he finally releases your throat, his tongue traces the wound—gentle now, reverent, like he’s kissing the holiest part of you. Blood paints his chin. His cock still buried inside you, twitching, heavy, throbbing.

Then—he lifts his head.

You see it in his face. The complete loss of control. His pupils blown wide, lips red, hair clinging to his temples in damp, golden waves. His hands clutch your waist again—and he thrusts up once, hard, a broken moan escaping his throat.

“Oh—fuck—” he gasps. “I’m gonna—”

You’re still pulsing around him. Still warm, wet, perfect.

He buries himself deeper, spilling into you with a low, desperate groan. His mouth finds yours mid-release, kissing you like he’s tasting eternity. Tongue slick with blood and love. You’re breathless, trembling, still locked together in the cooling water—and only then does he speak again. Softly. Against your lips.

“You’re divine.”

You smile weakly, forehead to his. “So are you.”

Felix brushes a petal from your shoulder. One last kiss to your jaw. One last whispered truth, low and sacred:

“I’d bleed for you too.”

𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 𓆪 KIM SEUNGMIN // Normal Vampire The gentleman with a scalpel smile. Clinical precision. Calculated hunger.

🩸 PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Inner arm — intimate, exposed, and close to your heart. ‣ Sometimes the chest or side of your ribs

💉 FEEDING STYLE ‣ Calm. Measured. Strategic. ‣ He plans his bites—timed, placed, controlled. ‣ Often feeds during emotional peaks—after soft sobs, laughter, confessions, or sex. ‣ Gentle on the surface, but watch closely: there’s a dangerous edge underneath.

🫀 EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Heart rate spike followed by unusual stillness. ‣ Floating sensation. Hallucination-like euphoria. ‣ Skin hypersensitivity for hours after. ‣ Develops strong dependency on his praise and attention.

⚠️ PROGNOSIS ‣ Low-risk externally—but internally, you’ll never forget the way he says your name. ‣ Prolonged feeding can induce dreamlike sedation or emotional bonding states. ‣ Known to leave almost invisible marks—but you feel them for days. ‣ Vulnerability spike: tendency to confess secrets or cry in his arms after.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 007 𓆪

You hadn’t spoken in over an hour.

Not since the fight.

Not since he said, “Maybe if you didn’t run every time we got too close, I wouldn’t have to wonder if you actually want this.”

You’d slammed the door to the bedroom. Now you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, wrapped in one of his shirts, staring at the wall like it’s going to offer answers. It doesn’t.

The air is tight. Tense. Like everything’s been coiled too long.

Then—you hear his footsteps.

And suddenly, he’s there.

Seungmin doesn’t speak. Doesn’t shout. He just walks over, grabs your jaw with cold fingers, and tilts your head up.

“You want to be left alone?” he asks quietly. “Or do you want me to make you feel something again?”

Your breath stutters. That look in his eyes—sharp, calculating, barely restrained—isn’t the usual teasing calm.

This is something else.

You whisper, “Make me.”

And just like that—he snaps.

You’re pushed back against the bed. His body cages yours, knees on either side of your hips, hands pinning your wrists above your head. You gasp, arching—but he doesn’t give you time to speak.

“I hate fighting with you,” he growls, voice low and lethal. “You know that?”

You nod, breathless.

“But you push me. You always push. And then you run, and I let you. But not tonight.”

His lips crash to yours—angry, desperate, hungry. You kiss back just as hard, teeth clashing, tongues twisting. Seungmin bites your lip—draws blood. Licks it up like you’re wine and he’s parched. “Take it off,” he demands, tugging at the shirt. You pull it over your head, baring yourself to him completely and his eyes darken.

His eyes scan your body like he owns it. Like he's earned it. Then—he lets go.

Just releases your wrists and leans back, chest heaving. You blink, confused, but he only settles onto the mattress, dark hair mussed. One arm folded behind his head. The other gestures lazily down his own body.

“Take your panties off.”

You hesitate.

He raises a brow. “Now.”

You obey.

Silently, you slide the soft lace down your thighs, aware of how his gaze never leaves your center. You think—maybe—he wants you to straddle his face. Let him taste the slick that’s already gathering between your legs.

But Seungmin has other plans.

“Turn around,” he murmurs. “Back to me.”

You do, breath catching.

“On your knees. Over my chest.”

And that’s when it hits you.

You’re not riding his mouth. He’s placing you above him, facing the length of his body, and when you obey—when your hands brace on the bed and your knees sink beside his ribs—he shifts both of you down.

So now he’s under you. And your soaked pussy is right above his mouth. But his cock? Hard. Heavy. Inches from your face.

“Open your mouth, baby,” he growls. “And keep it open while I ruin you.”

You barely have time to whimper before his hands are gripping your hips, dragging your pussy down to his mouth. His tongue licks one long stripe through your folds before his fangs sink into the plush of your thigh with no warning, no restraint.

You cry out.

But then—you moan.

Because his mouth is everywhere. Kissing. Biting. Tongue fucking you while blood still runs hot against his lips. He’s feeding and pleasuring, starving and devout all at once.

And you?

You finally do what he told you.

Shaky hands pulling down his grey sweatpants and his briefs, his cock springing out, hard, leaking, throbbing.

You lean forward. Wrap one hand around the base of his cock. The other balances on his thigh. And then—you sink your mouth over him, slow at first, tongue pressing to the underside of the thick, pulsing length that jerks the moment you moan around it.

He groans.

Deep in his throat. A growl of praise.

“Just like that,” he breathes against your cunt. “Take it all, baby. Feed me while I fuck your throat.”

You do.

Mouth stuffed full of his cock, your hips rocking over his face as he feasts between your thighs like you’re the cure to every craving. His tongue works in circles—then flicks. His fingers dig into your ass, spreading you wider, holding you still when your thighs start shaking.

You’re dripping. Gagging. Gasping for air.

And Seungmin? He never lets up. Every time your mouth slides down over his length, he rewards you with another harsh suck, another bite to your thigh, another moan against your clit that sends you reeling.

Until you’re both right there.

Teetering. Desperate. Drenched in sweat, saliva, and blood.

Then—his cock throbs. Your walls flutter. Your body clenches around nothing as the orgasm explodes from your spine, rolling over you like a wave of fire.

Your juices soak his mouth. He drinks. Groaning. Devouring. Never stopping.

Your body trembles through the high and just as you release his cock from your mouth, gasping, your hand wraps around his base again, stroking him once, twice before he finally cums. All over your chest. Your mouth which you made sure to keep open. Your tongue.

Seungmin is panting, eyes dark, lips red, blood dripping from his mouth like wine and he licks your inner thigh again. "Feel better now?" he asks hoarsely.

You collapse sideways onto the mattress, dizzy and dazed. "Fuck you," you whisper.

He smirks.

"You already did. But unless you want more, I'm happy to oblige~"

𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒 𓆪 YANG JEONGIN // Normal (Evolving Abnormal) Vampire The sweet boy with the sharpest bite. Addicted to affection. Dangerous when starved.

🩸 PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Shoulder blade, inner thigh & lower back

💉 FEEDING STYLE ‣ Emotional. Impulsive. Clingy. ‣ Bites happen mid-kiss, mid-moan, mid-breakdown. ‣ Never feeds clean—always leaves marks. ‣ Mouthy. Sloppy. Overwhelmed. Often doesn’t stop until you pull him off.

🫀 EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Heavy euphoria followed by crashing neediness. ‣ Breathing becomes erratic. Limbs tremble. ‣ Intense emotional projection—feels what you feel, tenfold. ‣ Causes your body to crave touch long after the bite ends.

⚠️ PROGNOSIS ‣ Unpredictable: safest when loved, most lethal when rejected. ‣ High risk for overfeeding during sex due to overstimulation. ‣ Known to whimper while drinking. ‣ Will worship you for hours afterward like he’s trying to say sorry with every kiss.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 008 𓆪

You’re still wearing it.

That lingerie set—the one in soft wine-red lace, delicate enough to tear, pretty enough to drive him feral. It’s sheer over your chest, satin at the waist, and trimmed in ribbon. You’d worn it as a surprise. You didn’t expect him to unravel like this.

Jeongin stares at you from the mattress, already shirtless, eyes darkened and jaw clenched. He looks dazed. Hungry. Like he’s been trying not to lose control all night and now he’s at his limit.

“I’m not taking it off,” he says hoarsely, reaching for you. “It’s too perfect. Too hot. Just—ride me like that.”

Your breath catches.

You crawl into his lap slowly, knees bracketing his hips, arms wrapping around his shoulders. His hands grip your thighs, sliding up the sheer lace with reverence and a tremble. Then his mouth is on you—kissing down your neck, biting gently at first, tongue soothing the sting. But that’s not what he really wants.

“I need it,” he whispers. “Please. Let me bite.”

You nod.

He doesn’t hesitate. Sinks his fangs into the swell of your breast just above the lace, groaning low as your blood hits his tongue. You moan at the feeling of the heat rush that floods your body. Your hips grind down on instinct. He grips you tighter, hips twitching beneath yours.

“Fuck,” he gasps, pulling back with blood smeared at the corner of his lips. “You taste so good.”

You rock against him again. He’s hard already, pressing against your center through thin layers. Your pace quickens as you straddle him, grinding down in search of friction, your moans growing louder with every pass.

And then—he thrusts up once, twice, desperately, through his boxers, trying to meet you. It’s messy. Uncontrolled.

“Take me out,” he pants. “I—I need—please—”

You reach between you, freeing him from his briefs. His cock is flushed, heavy, leaking against your hand. He bucks into your touch, then holds your hips steady while you pull your panties aside and lower yourself onto him—inch by inch, lace still clinging to your skin.

His head drops back against the pillow with a moan so wrecked it doesn’t sound human. “You feel… fuck… you feel unreal.”

You start to move.

Slow at first—steady rolls of your hips, his hands roaming every inch of you he can reach. His fangs flash again as he watches you bounce, lace framing your curves, blood still drying on your chest.

“I can’t—can’t hold back,” he grits out. “Need to bite again—need to feel you everywhere.”

You nod, too lost in pleasure to form words.

This time, he bites your shoulder. Then your neck. Then your breast again through the fabric, enough to tear the lace slightly. Each time, his tongue follows, soothing the sting with a worshipful lick before he moans against your skin.

You’re shaking. Close. So close.

“Jeongin—”

“I know, baby," he growls—but this time, there’s a rasp in his throat. A dark edge. A thirst not just for you—but for what’s inside you. What feeds him.

Then—he snaps.

Jeongin bucks up into you with renewed force, rough and desperate, the rhythm turning messy and fast. One hand clutches your hip, guiding your motion, the other lands sharp against your ass—slap.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Take it. Ride it. Don’t you dare stop.”

You try to answer, but your voice breaks. He’s deep, hard, relentless. The blood loss, the overstimulation, the lace chafing just so—it’s too much, and still not enough.

Then he sinks his fangs into you again.

Lower this time—just above your heart. A claim. A feeding. His moan is filthy against your skin as he drinks, hips slamming up with each pull from your vein. His lips seal to the bite like it’s sacred, tongue swiping the spill before it stains.

You feel yourself tipping, unraveling—body jerking, walls fluttering around him. He groans, hands digging into your ass, holding you in place as his thrusts become erratic.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he pants, blood-slicked lips against your breast. “I could drink you dry. Fill you up. Fuck—don’t stop—don’t stop.”

You don’t. Your body moves on instinct—legs trembling, hands clutching at his chest, your moans dissolving into shattered gasps as you ride him harder, faster, deeper.

He fucks up into you like he’s chasing something primal—like he’s on the edge of breaking, of shifting into something unholy. His grip on your hips bruises. His jaw is clenched tight. He’s staring at you like you’re divinity draped in lingerie and blood.

“Fucking—cum,” he snaps, voice cracking. “Let me feel you.”

And then—you do.

It hits like a flood, your whole body locking around him, head thrown back as the orgasm rips through you. You cry out, shaking, grinding down on him as your walls clench and flutter and milk him mercilessly.

Jeongin loses it.

He growls—a sound feral, needy—and slaps your ass again, rougher this time, then grabs your waist and slams up into you with sharp, punishing thrusts. No rhythm now. Just desperation. His cock drags along every swollen, overstimulated nerve inside you as he chases his own climax, jaw clenched, breath ragged.

“Fucking—tight—fuck, I’m gonna—”

Another slap. Another thrust. His fangs flash again like he’s tempted to bite one last time, but instead he buries his face in your chest, breathing you in like you’re oxygen. His fingers sink into your thighs, holding you down as he spills into you with a deep, guttural groan.

His entire body jerks.

Once. Twice.

Then stillness.

His grip softens—only a little. His face stays pressed against your skin, your blood still drying against his lips. His cock twitches inside you, aftershocks making your thighs tremble from where you’re still seated on him.

He finally breathes. Hoarse. Like he’d forgotten how.

“…mine,” he whispers. Like a prayer. Like a vow.

🏷️ taglist: @cybergracie , @jupitermarss , @basicginn , @dhvnigvil , @emkvlixsx , @collin-thegreat , @somuchpanicverylittledisco

[brookiesblurbs]

ANGEL — SAM WINCHESTER.

SUMMARY — sam starts to grow fond of an angel. they have grown more comfortable around each other, and tensions run high when dean leaves for a bar.

WARNINGS — no plot all porn... 18+, softdom!sam, unprotected sex, p in v, oral, f!receiving, unexperienced!reader, angel!reader, LOTS of praise, biting, creampie, mentions of religion, sam's a sweetheart. he's also a freak.

WC — 4.3k. i got carried away.

A/N — i feel like i'm going to hell just from the warnings alone. i erm. i don't even know. shout out the two people who asked to get tagged in this 🙏 first ever smut fic, if you hate i'll probably delete my account. i am not editing 4.3k words btw. i'm lazy.

angels weren't supposed to enjoy the feeling of a human. that much was well known.

and when you came from heaven to assist castiel in whatever the hell it was that he was doing, that was repeated to you over and over again. these 'humans', they weren't important. your only job was to make sure sam winchester didn't get hurt. that was all this was supposed to be. a casual round of protecting the winchesters.

you didn't understand human norms, and at first, sam didn't like you. you didn't take personally, of course, because, well, sam hated any angel at first. castiel quickly explained to you about the brother's and how you'd be spending more time with them while he awaited directions. honestly, you couldn't care less about either of the brothers, too. they were hunters, and you were an angel. you weren't supposed to mix anyway.

sam winchester was more interesting than his older and shorter brother, though. sam was thoughtful and a lot more curious about you than he let on at first. as you spent more time 'watching' over him, you realized he enjoyed asking you questions about heaven, and the angels, and about castiel. and you tried to answer them to the best of your ability.

sam was more open to learning about you than dean, and he was more considerate when it came to teaching you knew things. slowly, he started defending you against dean's antics, and he learned about how curious you were, too.

he spent many late nights awake with you, struggling with his insomnia. you made it much more enjoyable. on the off chance that he did get some sleep, he'd wake up to you in the bunker, lounging and reading one of his books. as soon as you saw him awake, you'd pounce on him, eager to talk all about it.

sam found you endearing in the same way you found him intriguing. you both taught each other different things. he taught you about different emotions and how to communicate them to him. he showed you his favorite movies. he told you about his time in standford and about how he was studying law. you taught him about the bible, about praying and how you'd always come if he prayed for you. you taught him about heaven and hell, and angels and everything in between.

eventually, you two become friends, as much as younger sam would have hated to admit that. he showed you what friendship was and what it was like to worry about someone more than yourself. he explained to you what love was and about heartbreak. sam watched as you turned from this unemotional, blunt angel into a person, crafted by the things you loved.

you two kissed about six months after hunting with him. you were unexerienced, and painfully so, and your first kiss was nothing but giggles and awkward stares. the second, third, and fourth ones weren't any better. sam was ridiculously dotting and patient, and even though you were an angel and didn't understand what a relationship was, you still tried for him, and he loved you for it.

after a week of sneaky kisses and rushing into each other's rooms once dean fell asleep, you seemed to have gotten the hang of it. you and sam hadn't done anything remotely sexual other than a few hands-under-the-bra's and one /bad/ attempt at a handjob. sam was enthralled in watching you become more confident and learning how to touch him the way that he liked and how to kiss him properly. so he didn't mind taking things slow.

you two agreed to not have sex yet, partially because to you, it was a sin, and partially because you didn't know what you were doing. sam had no issue waiting. that was, until tonight.

you don't even remember how this happened, honestly — the lingering touches became more frequent, more needy, and at some point, sam had slipped you out of your shirt and bra. you'd barely even made it to his room /thank god for dean being out at a bar tonight/, before he was kissing you, his lips hiding something more intense tonight.

you wouldn't have protested anyways, but as soon as your shirt was gone, sam was all over you.

"i know it feels dirty, honey. but it's not. i wouldn't lie to you." sam hums against your throat, kissing the soft skin. when he talks like that, all low and soothing, you might just believe anything he says. he pulls back to look at your concerned expression, and his smile softens.

his movement stills, and you frown, almost wishing sam would convince you to do more. that feeling in your stomach, the one that felt close to nausea, started to feel nice. and you craved more of it. you craved more of sam.

although his desire outweighed his guilt for ruining the purity of an angel like this, sam still sat up for a moment, his hazel eyes practically begging you. he was nothing, if not a gentleman. "do you want this?" sam asks, hushed and spoken like a prayer, and you think you might get sent to hell just from how he's looking at you.

sam's hair is a ruffled mess, and his long sleeve black shirt was rolled up to his elbows. his carhartt jacket had long been discarded by you, tossed somewhere into the dark abyss that was the dingy, horribly lit motel room. he looks beautiful.

"i do, sammy, but—" you breathe out shakily. before you can finish answering, his hands are on your hips, tugging you closer to him. you're both standing up, his large hands moving up your skirt to trail up your sides. sam can feel your back arch against his hands slightly, and it's taking everything in him to not lose his resolve.

san, who previously said he was okay with waiting, felt like a selfish man tonight. he could honestly care less about your innocence right now. what he did care about was you, though. sam knew that if you wanted him to continue, he wouldn't be able to stop.

"but what?" sam mumbled, his fingertips digging against your hips. his erection was pressed dangerously against your thigh. he shifted you until you were pressed against him — he knew what he was doing and the effect it was having on you. you didn't answer and could only grumble a complaint out.

"just needa taste you, honey. we don't have to go all the way if you don't want to." sam's words are a contradiction to how he was staring at you. "although, i have thought about doing more." he hums, and he has a slight shit eating grin on his face. it's sort of surprising that this is your sweet sammy.

you're conflicted— this is wrong. sinful. but there was a bubbling heat in your stomach, and you wanted nothing more than to make sam feel good. maybe a part of being human was indulging in your sins. you pout at him slightly, and sam has to stop himself from moving his hips up against you. he doesn't just want this, he needs this. he needs to corrupt you, to ruin your innocence until all you can think about is him.

"fine. be gentle, though, sam. i mean it." you relent, although you didn't need much convincing. honestly, if he tried to pull off of you, you'd be the one begging him to touch you and not the other way around.

"oh, fuck—" sam groans, and he almost instantly falls to his knees. his hands are tugging off your jeans faster than you can process. "you don't know how long i've wanted this." his tone makes you feel dirty, and you can't help when your brows crumple into a slight glare. you didn't know what he was doing, but you wanted him to hurry it up.

you help him kick your jeans off around your ankles and step out of them. you're left in your cotton panties, and for some reason, it turns sam on more to know you weren't planning for this. honestly, neither was he.

"leave these on." two fingers slip underneath the elastic by your thigh, tugging them and letting them go, the fabric snapping against your skin. the action makes you suck in a breath. sam's lips make their way to your upper thighs, sucking and kissing at the sensitive skin. it's not enough, and he knows that. he's driving you crazy on purpose to see you squirm for him.

"sam—" you chastise, like a scold, your hand running through his hair and tugging on it gently, trying to bring your hips closer to him. sam fucking moans. he moans at getting his hair pulled, and it makes your brows crease in bewilderment. /you would definitely be keeping that in mind./

sam looks up at you with those same puppydog eyes, and you swear you're going to burst into literal flames and have your wings removed instantly. "needa taste my girl's pussy. y'gonna let me?" sam says softly, his voice muffled by your thigh, gently biting on a spot. when you whimper, he pulls back to kiss at the forming bruise, his hands massaging at the fat of your ass.

truth be told, you'd probably let him fold into a pretzel at this point, but you didn't want to stroke his massive ego.

the noise you make is answer enough, and sam deftly pulls your panties to the side. his hand brings yours to hold them. he needs *both* hands for devouring you. sam's two middle fingers move to collect your slick from your folds, and you shiver. his brows raise, and he smiles again. "you're soaked, baby. you really want me that bad?" he asks, and you're nodding quickly.

sam can't hold back when you look this pretty above him. you can feel his breath against you. even just looking at you bare in front of him is enough to make him want to cum in his fucking jeans.

he flattens his tongue against you, and your hips stutter against his mouth. you've never felt anything like this before. you can feel sam's grin against your cunt, his hands cupping into your ass and pulling your hips further into his mouth.

seeing such a large man, especially one like sam, at his knees, lapping at your pussy like a fucking starved man— it makes your head fuzzy.

without warning, his middle finger slips into you. your hands move to his hair to steady yourself, massaging at the brown strands, pushing some from off his sticky forehead. the concentration on his face is almost cute, but it soon becomes too hard to keep your eyes open.

another finger slips past your folds, and you're mouthing his name like a prayer. his fingers are rocking into you at a slow speed, but his mouth— it was fucking dirty, the way he'd suck on your clit, only pulling away to breathe. everytime he pulled away, a string of saliva followed, connected between you two. his chin was slick with your arousal, his chest panting with heavy breaths. and then he was right back to devouring you.

maybe sam winchester was the devil.

your hands tug on his hair slightly, and sam groans against you. the heat in your stomach was building and sam was near drunk on your pussy. when he looked up at you with those hazel eyes, you moaned, your thighs tremoring.

"sam— sam, it feels too good... please—" you breathed out, panting too now, and sam didn't relent, no matter how hard you were tugging at his hair. his hand was holding your hip hard not daring to let you squirm away from him. indents of his fingertips would ruin your pretty skin by the morning. you had to shy away from his intense gaze.

sam pulled away, still fucking his fingers into you. "eyes on me, baby." he mumbled, before sinking flush against your clit again. you listened, although your face was an embarrassing hue of pink. sam was just as loud and needy, if not worse than you. everytime your thighs clenched around him, or you tugged on his hair, profanities and groans slipped from his lips. he needed you.

sam kept his tongue latched onto you, his eyes showing that he was as desperate as you were to make you cum. the noises he was making were filth, soft grunts and groans, all muffled by your puffy pussy. when your eyes flickered down, you noticed that one of his hands were palming himself through his jeans.

with every shake and spasm, it was like sam knew you were close. he was using his hands to rock your hips more onto his tongue, your weight practically suffocating him. sam would gladly die a happy man in between your folds, if it meant getting to look up at your beautiful face contorting in pleasure. his chest swells at the fact that he is the one who gets to touch you like this.

that feeling returned as quickly as it left, and soon you were cumming on his face, your legs shaking as he kept his fingers curled into your folds. that was probably the best thing you'd felt since coming to earth. sam pressed a kiss to your overstimulated clit, before kissing up your stomach, your breasts, collarbone, and finally standing to his full height over you.

"how was that?" sam asks, licking the wetness off his fingers. as much as he wanted to ruin you, he also wanted to make sure you were comfortable.

heavy pants still wracked both of your bodies, your thighs aching and barely able to hold your own weight. he had the audacity to ask that after making you feel things you hadn't felt in your centuries alive? in between deep breaths, you shot him a slight glare.

"what do you think?" you tutted, puffing his lips out in that gorgeous pout that made sam was to kiss you stupid, holding onto his biceps so you didn't lose balance.

sam grins in response, his hands moving to your bare hips, pressing you into him. his cock was fucking painfully hard and he had to refrain from rutting against you. "i need to fuck you, honey." fuck sam and his beautiful eyes, pleading at you. his hand leads your to palm him from over his jeans, and he moans softly, so prettily.

you were conflicted. you knew his cock would feel so much better than his fingers, but this was wrong. "sammy—" you say in the same chastising voice that drives him insane.

"please, let me fuck you. need to feel you around my dick. fuck, doesn't even have to be all the way." sam pleads, and you have a hard time saying no to that. he was practically begging you. you sigh at how weak you were for this man. "please fuck me, sam."

sam eyes widen slightly, and he can't help his grin as he pushes you back against the bed. his eyes stay on you as he pulls his shirt off, discarding it across the motel floor along with all of yours. you can't help but stare at him. all tanned, scarred, and bruised, despite being young. it was so different compared to your imperfect skin, free of any blemishes or let alone scars.

sam's tantalizingly slow as he takes off his belt, followed by his jeans. he's fucking huge. that much you can tell by his bulge alone. your eyes widen slightly when he strips his boxers off.

he wanted to take his time with you, to treat you like the goddamn angel you were, to wrack every noise he can from your lips. but, sam was impatient as hell. and he was really, really hard.

"you're beautiful." sam coos, caging you in between his much larger frame. there is a shine in his gaze, so soft and loving, that it almost makes you feel queasy. he's not doing this because he's bored or because he wants to get off. sam's doing this because you're his world.

"you're alright." you respond, not able to hold back the giggle that escaped your lips afterward, especially when you felt sam's annoyed sigh against the crook of your neck. you can feel his irritated grin. sam fell in love with that devilish laugh of yours, and he found it endearing that even during this, he could make you sound like that.

it was such a sharp contrast from how emotionless and... awkward— you first were when you met the winchester brothers. sam has loved watching you adapt this sassy personality, loved eyeing you while you admire new things, hearing the way your voice heightened whenever you laughed, the way you took over parts of his and dean's own quirks and personalities.

"just alright? you wound me, angel."

this time, you rolled your eyes. you turn your head to the side to press your lips against the mole below his right eye. "you're beautiful too, sammy. you already know that." you huff out, your tone unmistakably soft. sam scoffed, nipping at her neck slightly. it was nice to hear that from you, regardless of what he thought about himself.

unfortunately for you, the compliment rushes to sam's head. he sits up slightly, his cock pressed against your lower stomach, a hand brushing over your cheek, moving your fanned hair out of your face. "are you sure you're okay with this? we can stop— i'll put on a movie, and we can forget—"

you interrupt sam's worries by pressing a kiss to his palm. "yes sam, i'm sure. please." and that small act of intimacy followed by your voice pleading for him was enough reassurance for sam. no need to tell him twice.

sam pumps himself a few times, his eyes not once leaving yours. "scoot your hips up for me, honey." you oblige, and you can feel his cock pressed against your clothed entrance. the sight leaves nothing for the imagination and sam sighs as his fingers pulls your panties down to your ankles.

sam looks like he's in fucking heaven, his lips parted and staring at you bare in front of him. his thumb habitually moves to your clit, rubbing soft circles against it just to watch you squirm under him.

"sam, quit being a damn tease." you frown and wiggle your hips into his more. his gaze is making you shy, something you didn't know was even possible as an angel.

"innocent angel, my ass." sam mumbles under his breath, but he obliges, lining up his cock to you. he collects your slick with his tip, dragging the wetness over your already overstimulated clit. sam rubs it against your folds a few times, before pressing only about halfway in. the moan that leaves your lips is heavenly, so much so that sam's head has to fall to your shoulder and bites it softly so he doesn't cum too fast like a damn high schooler.

"you're so fucking tight, shit—" sam groans and it's so dirty coming from him. he's usually so sweet to you, so hearing this is different. and arousing. but different. you'd expect this talk out of dean, not sam.

sam really wished he would've slept around a little more in college now because it was taking far too much concentration to not finish already.

"need to fuck you, baby. please." sam all but whimpers out. all of your beliefs, your nightly prayers, all of it was gone the second you felt him inside of you. you can only nod in response, your hands tugging at his waist to come closer to you.

sam stills, looking at you for a moment like he can't believe you want this. and slowly, he pushes in all the way, and you both share a pornographic moan.

sam is quiet as he lets you adjust to his size. he wasn't one to toot his own horn, but he was pretty big. and even though your vessel wasn't a virgin, mentally, you still were. sam had a mantra of things going through his head — the main ones being: please don't cum, please don't cum, please don't cum. don't say i love you. don't move too fast yet. let her adjust.

sam leans down to kiss your forehead. "good?" he hums.

you nod again. "hurts a little." and sam is nothing but patient, kissing each of your temples before brushing your hair away.

"i promise you're doing so good. it's gonna hurt for a moment. it'll feel better soon. just relax." sam murmured against your shoulder, his lips sighing down towards your collarbone. "gonna move now, sweet girl." calloused palms are pressing your thighs to your chest. he leans down enough so you can hold on to his shoulders if you need.

with one hand still on the back of your leg, and the other one cupping one of your breasts, he pulls out almost all the way before rocking in slowly. your eyes screwing shut from pleasure is enough to test the waters with a more heavy thrust. "that's it, baby. look at you—" sam groans, his fingertips digging into your skin. his eyes were glued to where his cock was entering you rhythmically, and god, he could get addicted to that sight. sam could fucking see where the tip of his cock was pressing into your belly. his palm moved over it, adding slight pressure to your lower pelvis. the feeling made him groan out your name softly. he was just as loud as you were. "so beautiful."

part of you wanted sam to shut up so you could focus on the feeling of your walls fluttering around his cock, but the other half of you enjoyed the flithy words leaving his flushed lips.

"oh, fuck. sammy, 's too much—" you whimpered out, your hand squeezing his biceps. your legs wrapped around his waist to bring him closer, the balls of your heels digging against his ass. sam think he likes that you're not very vocal. it makes every beg, every moan that much more special to him. he was the only one who got to see his angel falling apart like this.

everything about sam is fucking massive, from his height, to his sheer size difference over you. it shouldn't have been shocking that his dick was huge too, but you felt it now. you felt every single inch, stretching you out, your arousal slipping down his shaft. sam's thrusts grew more feverish, his shaggy brown bangs falling into his face as his head fell forward slightly. "i know you can handle it baby." he grunted in response to your plea, hazel eyes fucked out with lust.

that feeling in your lower belly returned, and now, at least, you know what it meant. it was overwhelming, but not enough for you. your hand reached for sam's hand, guiding it to you clit. sam thought that was the hottest thing he'd ever fucking seen, and shuddered slightly. "you wanna cum around my cock? is that it, sweetheart?" sam asks, a small, contemplating smile on his lips.

you're writhing under his cock, your back arching off the bed, his thumb rubbing soft circles around your nub. you tap his bicep in warning of your approaching orgasm, but he doesn't stop. he doesn't slow down either. in fact, he ruts his hips faster. the feeling of you clenching around his dick is enough to send him over the edge, too. he's biting down hard on his cheek to stop himself from cumming before you. he wants, needs to see you cum first, before he can.

your face contorts into pleasure, and you cum hard, sam still fucking you through your orgasm. he groans and his eyes close when he watches you making a mess all over him. "thaaat's it. that's my girl." he encourages, the feeling of your walls clenching around him tipping him over the edge. "fuck. gonna fill you up." he grunts against your shoulder, his hips stuttering slightly and you moan as you feel his cock twitch inside you, before you feel cum spurt into your cunt.

sam pulls out a moment after, his eyes blown out when he watches his spend leak from your pulsating hole. he uses two fingers to spread it around over your folds. once he's satisfied with his handiwork, he slumps down into the bed next to you.

you're still a panting, sighing mess. you feel your legs twitch occasionally, and you're finally coming to your senses. you were just fucked stupid by your best friend. a human.

"jesus, sam. is this really what humans are doing?" you ask, out of genuine curiosity, and sam pinches your side with a slight laugh. he looks spent, almost as bad as you. his head falls to your shoulder, pressing his lips to the soft skin present.

"the lucky ones, yeah." sam huffs in amusement. "you're okay, right? i didn't hurt you, or pressure you or anything?" his voice is a little persistent, worried, already overthinking like he wasn't just inside of you.

"'course not. that was amazing. i think i'd go to hell if it meant having sex everyday— i see why castiel was encouraging me into trying this." you tilt your head to the side, and sam raises an eyebrow. he didn't even dare ask what odd things castiel told you about. nor did he want to know. he couldn't see castiel doing anyone without scaring them away with his bluntness first.

sam chooses to ignore that, leaning over to pepper kisses onto your cheeks, nose, and forehead. anywhere you'll let him at this point. "you did amazing. absolutely drained me. y'sure you haven't done that before?" he teases, and you roll your eyes at him. your eyes watched him with concern when sam stood.

"alright, crazy girl. let's get you cleaned up."

[averyisnotpresent]

LONG TIME COMING family-friend!pazzi au

𓇼 in which: azzi fudd has been counting down the days until her summer vacation begins and she gets to reunite with her best family-friends. but something feels different about this year. why are her quiet moments with paige so loud, and why does her stomach curl when they embrace like it never had before? (slightly TSITP inspired)

𓇼 warnings: swearing, sexual content (fingering- both receiving)

𓇼 wc: 8.8k

𓇼 avery's note: hi! this is my first time writing smut so i hope it's not too bad. some events in this story are kinda childish i guess you could say, but obviously i wasn't gonna make them minors so just ignore that! also imagine azzi's like 5 inches shorter than paige (it's for the plot😉) live react if you can! | my masterlist

The cool breeze combs through Azzi’s curly hair and the beaming sun lights up her tanned skin. The light illuminates the smile plastered onto her face, the one she’s been wearing this whole car ride. These summers were the things Azzi had been counting down the days until, getting more and more eager as the “days until” countdown she had on her phone got lesser and lesser.

She begins to pack up the things splayed around her as she passes the bright blue sign: “Silver Lake, MI”. The best memories Azzi can think of come from this place, on the beach, fruity drink in hand, but most of all, the people she spends it with - the Bueckers.

From the very first Silver Lake getaway, Azzi and Paige stuck like glue. Azzi might have only been 8 years old, but everyone surrounding them knew those two were inseparable, and would continue to be. 10 years later, Paige just finishing her freshman year of college and Azzi preparing to start hers, their bond was no different. The two girls had been texting nearly every day of the school year, not being able to contain their excitement until they got back to where they were happiest.

Azzi messily folds up the blanket she had been wrapped in and stuffs it in the backpack laying at her feet. The warm Michigan air floods Azzi’s skin when she rolls the window down further and breathes in the salty smell of home. She peels the navy hoodie she had been wearing over her neck, leaving her outfit to be made of jean shorts and a flowery tube top. Strings draw two lines from the hem of her tube top over her shoulders and back down: her pink bikini top peeking through. 

Jon, Azzi’s young brother, elbows her in the side from the seat next to her: “Who you tryna’ impress, huh?”

“Nobody. This is just how I dress, weirdo.” Azzi shoots back, rolling her eyes and tucking a loose curl behind her ear. “It’s like 90 degrees. I just don’t wanna melt into a puddle the second I step outside.” Jon smacks his lips, giving Azzi an eye roll of his own before kicking the back of his dad’s seat.

Before Jon can even open his mouth, Tim lifts his hand, quieting Jon down before he can pester him. “Three minutes tops and we’ll be there. Bob just texted me saying he and everyone else got there a little bit ago.” Azzi and Jon both grin wider than they were before, excited to see their loved ones after much too long of a time apart.

The three minutes pass slowly, agonizingly even. Azzi unbuckles her seatbelt before Tim has even got close to the white house’ driveway and her door is open before he can even think about shifting into park.

Sitting on the porch is Paige, long blonde, slightly wavy, hair cascading down her pale back and lips curved into a smile just as big as Azzi’s. Blue swirly basketball shorts cover her legs and a plain white t-shirt hangs off her tall frame. Paige slams down the phone in her hand, letting it topple over to the ground when it flips off of the table she set it on, and runs over to Azzi.

Azzi chuckles a little under her breath, giggling at how funny Paige looks running over to her, but doesn’t seem to care much when Paige wraps her arms around her waist and embraces her in a tight hug. Paige rests her head on Azzi’s shoulder as her breath fans into Azzi’s ear. “Hey, Az.” Paige whispers, excitement filling her voice, but also some sort of relief. Like she couldn’t stand another minute being away from the curly head.

Azzi goes to greet Paige back, but before she can get any words out, Paige lifts Azzi up, spinning her around by her waist and watching as Azzi’s smile grows, despite her groans of protest and the look of annoyance in her eyes.

“I was about to say I missed you, but y’know what? I’m not so sure I do after that.” Azzi says, and while her voice has a tone of sass, Paige knows underneath it all she’s joking. Or at least she hopes so.

“I would argue back, but I’m actually a kind person and am happy to see you. I swear the school years seem longer every year.” Paige answers back, finally surrendering Azzi to the ground and letting her out of her grasp.

She takes this time to fully drink in the picture of Azzi. She looks about the same as last year, but she seems to be glowing in a way she never had before. She seems to carry a newfound confidence with her. Paige knows Azzi never would have worn something like this last summer, at least not anywhere where her brothers could see her, that is.

Azzi brings her head up from smoothing out a wrinkle in the flowered fabric and her dimples pop out as she smiles from Paige’s sentiment. “Maybe I missed you too, Bueckers. But only maybe.” Azzi admits, a purplish blush flushing her cheeks with her slight white lie.

“Hey, Paige!” Tim hollers from behind his family’s car, “You wanna give me a hand with these bags or what? Put those empty hands to work?”

“I gotchu.” Paige accepts, leaving Azzi in her flushed state to go grab a bag or two from the Fudd’s trunk. She daps Tim up before he pulls her into a hug.

“Good to see you kid.” Tim greets, used to being ignored during these trips for his daughter. Paige agrees, then hoists Azzi’s backpack from the backseat over her shoulder and grabs the matching duffel bag in her free hand, the other holding Katie, Azzi’s mother,'s beach bag.

Paige trudges forward with the bags weighing down her arms, Azzi shamelessly letting her eyes follow the Paige's flexed biceps. Her sleeves are slightly rolled after the straps of Azzi’s backpack moved them, and the slopes of her arm knot with every step.

“Did you wanna carry any of your things or am I your butler now?” Paige teases, already halfway into the house, Azzi following suit.

“Y’know what, I think I’m okay actually. Thanks for offering though.” Azzi jokes, letting Paige carry her things up to the room she designated hers a decade ago.

“Yeah alright, princess. Don’t be expecting me to do anything else like this.” Paige scoffs, and Azzi knows she’s rolling her eyes in front of her. Once Paige sets Azzi’s stuff down on her bed, leaving Katie’s beach bag at the top of the stairs, she grabs Azzi’s hand and tugs her right back down the stairs.

“That your suit on under there?” Paige confirms, earning a nod from Azzi as well as a knowing look. She does this every year.

Paige grabs two towels from atop the kitchen table downstairs and folds them over her shoulder. “We’re heading to the beach!” Paige calls up to her parents, she gets no response and just shrugs before grabbing Azzi again and rushing outside.

“Be safe!” Katie yells, still helping her sons get their things out of the car and trying to settle an argument between Jon and Jose over God knows what. Azzi rolls her eyes, annoyed with how protective her mom still is, but can’t be bothered for long.

Her and Paige start down the worn-grass path down to the beach, birds around them singing, like they’re just as happy as Paige and Azzi to be back.

“So,” Paige starts, “UCLA, huh? They’re lucky to have you.” Paige sounds a little bitter as she says the last part. She had been hoping Azzi would come to UConn with her, so they could finally see each other without having a year break in between. But Azzi was striving for somewhere with better academics. She had always been smart, and so had Paige, but never like Azzi.

Azzi got into UConn of course, but she knew she’d be doing herself a disservice if she went there. And thought it hurt Paige, she understood.

“I’m sorry, P. I wanted us to live out our little eight-year old dreams, but it just wasn’t gonna work.” Azzi admits. Her voice is sorrowful, like she truly means everything she’s saying.

“We’ve got all of summer. And when these summers stop, we’ve gotta promise we’ll still see each other.” Paige pleads. She knows she sounds immature, but that’s always what these summers are. She can be a kid again. She can be herself again. And she gets to be herself with Azzi.

“Agreed. Now stop being sentimental, we just got here!” Azzi scolds, punching Paige lightly on the shoulder without any malice behind it. Both girls smile at the contact and the grins stay put as they keep walking.

“So,” Azzi begins a new line of questioning. “How has college been? You finally find yourself someone special?” Paige has always been a fan-favorite everywhere she goes with… well, everyone. Guys and girls basically fall at her feet whenever she goes out in public and while Paige never complains or really turns them down, she never says yes either.

Paige has the kind of demeanor where you catch her eye from across the room and immediately are sucked in. She has the most genuine eyes, and if you see them once, they’re pretty hard to forget. She’s attractive, there’s no getting past that, but in a sort of mysterious way. Where you wonder why she doesn’t say yes to all the people offering themselves up to her. Not that Azzi’s been wondering or anything. ‘Cause she definitely hasn’t.

“Unfortunately I’ve been pretty busy with, you know, the academic part of college.” Paige laughs at Azzi’s question and slightly giggles while she answers. “A couple people tried, but no one stuck. What about you? I saw that guy you went to prom with on your Instagram. What’s up with him?”

Azzi scoffs out of what Paige interprets as disbelief, like she couldn’t believe Paige would even think that. “JD? He’s just a friend. One of his friends was going with Miranda, you know Miranda,” Paige nods along, “and I needed a date, so.” Azzi pauses, swallowing and breathing in for the first time since before she started her explanation. “End of story.”

Paige nods, not really having anything much else to add to the topic. “You look different this year, Az.” Paige admits after a few moments of silence. Not awkward though, it never is with them. At least before now.

“Different?” Azzi repeats, not sure if she heard Paige right. Paige nods and Azzi racks her brain for what she could mean. “Good different or bad different?”

“I dunno.” Paige starts to explain casually. “More - I don’t know - sure of yourself, I guess. Less shy.” Paige looks over at Azzi to see her facial expression which she can’t read. Paige has always prided herself with being perceptive, knowing how people are feeling, but she has no idea what Azzi’s thinking. To clarify, she speaks again, “Or maybe I’m making it all up. It’s been a while since last summer.”

Azzi knows what Paige is saying. She is different, I guess you could say, than last summer. Less scared. I mean, she’s an adult now. She can’t be scared to go to a party or wear a crop top anymore. Or maybe she can. But her friends from back home are very confident that she can’t.

“Azzi?” Paige breaks Azzi’s dissociation. “You in there?” Paige asks, waving a hand in front of Azzi’s wide, brown eyes. “I asked if you wanted to jump off the dock.”

Azzi blinks quickly a few times, bringing herself back to focus at the sound of Paige’s slightly raspy voice. “Yeah, yeah. Sure.” Azzi mumbles out, trying not to stumble over her own feet.

The two girls reach the beach, the sand hitting their feet and sticking to the bottoms of their sandals. “Race you to the dock?” Paige suggests, the little kid competitiveness she never grew out of shining through.

“Oh, you are so on.” Azzi challenges, counting down to three and sprinting like her life depends on it. Just like when they were little.

Some things never change.

Paige reaches the dock first, just like she’s been doing for the past ten years and Azzi groans as she arrives just a few seconds too late. “You’re like five inches taller, this is not fair!” Azzi complains, pouting like she did when she and Paige did this the first time.

As Azzi bends over and catches her breath, her hands falling to her knees and her breaths short and loud, and Paige watches her, hard. The way her chest rises and falls, and her teeny little bikini top poking through more and more with each breath. The way little sweat beads wet her forehead and collarbone before she quickly wipes them away.

But, before Paige can allow herself to get too wrapped up in the brunette, she places her large hands on either side of her shoulders and pushes her into the water.

Azzi lets out a squeal as she falls into the water, clothes on and all, her side hitting the water with a splat.

As she swims back up the surface she pushes a loose curl out of her eye and catches her breath from her unexpected entrance. She pulls a hand up from under the water and flings a big splash of water at Paige, soaking through her white shirt and getting in her eyes.

“Chill, I was gonna get in anyways.” Paige says as she strips her clothes, peeling off her now very wet shirt and dampened shorts. She’s wearing a black bikini, though it’s not as feminine as Azzi’s is. The top is cut with a straight line rather than Azzi’s triangle bikini, the two girls’ personalities showing out in their styles.

Azzi studies her as she strips, and thinks that maybe Paige is the one who seems different this year. She looks at Azzi like she’s never done before, and Azzi smiles wider than she ever had. A year is a long time I guess.

Time to change.

“Throw me your clothes, Az.” Paige offers, holding her arms out to catch Azzi’s drenched clothes. Azzi struggles to unbutton and slide down her shorts while she treads water, her legs being just barely too short to stand in the deep blue water.

Once Azzi’s left in her bikini she throws her clothes up to Paige, who catches both pieces with one hand like it’s nothing, balling them up and lying them next to her clothes.

“Watch out, princess.” Paige warns as she jumps into the cool water, cannonballing and drenching Azzi, if it’s even possible for her to get wetter than she already is.

“God, you’re so annoying, Paige.” Azzi says as she spits water out of her mouth, coughing slightly when Paige comes to the surface.

“Yeah, but you still love me.”

“Can’t seem to figure out why.”

☀︎༄.° two weeks later ☀︎༄.°

Azzi is scrolling on her phone in bed when a knock arrives at her door and she knows who it is even before the blonde strolls into her room.

Cooking book in hand, smug smile on her face, and hair pulled back into a low bun, Paige hangs in Azzi’s door frame, leaning against the wood like she wants something Azzi has.

“Can I… help you, Paige?” Azzi laughs, pressing her phone into her white comforter, shutting away Instagram and zoning into Paige.

“Can you help me bake? I was ‘sposed to make cookies for tonight but I might have burned them. Only like hypothetically, though.” Paige’s cheeks flush, slightly embarrassed with her cooking skills, even if she claims it’s not her fault.

“How do you even mess up cookies? Put the ingredients in, put them in the oven for like 8 minutes and you’re done. They’re like the simplest dessert.”

“Are you gonna gloat or actually help? ‘Cause I can make you eat burnt cookies if you want.”

Azzi pushes herself off her bed, pushing a few empty candy wrappers to the side and brushing off the invisible dust on her tank top. “I’ll help.” Azzi grudgingly agrees. “Only because I’m terrified for what you might make me eat.”

Azzi and Paige wind down the stairs of their beach home, finding their way to the kitchen with giggles and smiles shared between them along the way.

As they arrive, Azzi sees the tray of Paige’s first baking attempt, the ashes falling through the slots of the cooling dish and landing on the marble counter.

“Again, I pose the question: How do you even mess up cookies this badly?” Azzi laughs, not even trying to hide her disbelief with Paige’s… lack of talent, we’ll say.

“I think I forgot a couple things. Like y’know the eggs… and maybe the flour and baking soda.” Paige comes to the conclusion that she forgot at least half of the ingredients and left them in the oven for double the time they needed, but Azzi’s just grateful she didn’t burn the house down.

“Open up that book and find the recipe. Then you're gonna let me tell you what ingredients to get and I’m gonna double and triple check you actually got all of them.” Azzi orders, her voice stern but still partly playful.

“Yes, ma’am.” Paige smirks.

Azzi’s stomach churns. She doesn’t know why.

Paige flips through the old cooking book, its pages yellowed and filled with oily fingerprints from all of the times her and Azzi did this in years past. “We wanna do chocolate chip right?” Paige asks and Azzi nods her head to confirm.

“Alright, I got the page. Oven goes to 375.” Azzi walks over to the silver oven, making a tone out of the beeps as she punches in the numbers to preheat the oven.

Azzi walks back over, Paige’s eyes along with her, and steals the cooking book from Paige. “Go to the pantry and get both sugars, flour, baking soda and powder.” Azzi demands, Paige leaving her side to go get the ingredients.

Paige comes back with the containers balanced on various parts of her body, the large bags of flour held tightly in her oversized hands. Azzi’s watches as her fingers flex from the weight of the bags.

Her stomach continues to churn. Reason still unknown to Azzi.

Azzi’s leaned against one of the set of cabinets, reading the manual for what materials for Paige to get next. “We need vanilla extract and chocolate chips, too.”

Azzi, not realizing she’s in front of the cabinet that holds both of those things, continues to engross herself in the cooking book, mind forgetting Paige and the organization of their kitchen.

Paige, not finding it necessary to ask Azzi to move, reaches her hand over Azzi’s head, her hand meeting the cabinet handle with ease. Paige’s hands are now full with more cooking supplies as she comes down, and Azzi, who still hasn’t realized the precarious position they’re in, is stagnant in her position from earlier.

Paige begins to tip off balance, leaning away from Azzi as to not hit her, but out of sorts from the way she’s leaning. As she starts to slip she quickly lets the bag of chocolate chips drop the counter to free up one of her hands, which falls to Azzi’s bare waist for stability.

“Thanks for moving, princess. Almost knocked me over.” Paige thanks sarcastically, her hand still wrapped around Azzi’s hip bone, her cool hand heating up at the contact with Azzi’s warm skin.

Azzi looks up from her book finally, her eyes first finding Paige’s bright blue eyes, then her pale hand on her, then up to her eyes again. Paige looks deep into Azzi’s brown eyes, staring with some sort of uncertainty and nervousness. Her hand shakes ever so slightly, so minimally that Azzi barely even notices it, goosebumps forming under Paige’s calloused palms.

Neither girl moves, cooking book still in Azzi’s arms, vanilla in Paige’s free hand, slight perplexed smile on both girls' faces. Paige breathes in, her grip on Azzi tightening as she does, not in a harsh way, just like she wants to be closer.

Paige is the first to break the silence: “You’re so pretty, Az. You know that?”

Azzi breathes out shakily, her and Paige’s trance broken and suddenly the silence between them is loud. Uncomfortable.

She can hear the air conditioner purring, the fridge buzzing, her parents talking faintly with Paige’s on the porch on the opposite side of the home.

Azzi’s the first to pull away, Paige’s hand falling to the counter, the contact making a loud ‘slap’ noise as its descent finishes.

“Did you get the stuff?” Azzi asks, ignoring Paige’s compliment and focusing back in on the task at hand.

“Yeah.” Paige says slowly and softly. Her voice has a slight tone of surprise, like she was expecting Azzi to say something different. Or maybe less expecting and more so hoping. “Yeah I got ‘em.”

☀︎༄.° three weeks later ☀︎༄.°

Azzi was shoving a few of her clothes and as many blankets as she could find into her duffel bag as the sky began to turn from a light blue to a deeper navy. The birds were loud, the sun was hot, and the bugs were buzzing, but she didn’t care.

This was always the best part of summer.

One night a summer, the Bueckers and Fudds slept under the stars, sometimes in tents if it was raining, but no matter what: the last day of the vacation, this was their tradition.

The kids played a game of flag football that grew much too competitive much too quickly and the adults played cornhole and sipped on their beers.

Tim and Bob self identify themselves as chefs, and cook every typical barbecue food you could think of, and nothing more than a grain is ever left over.

The beach house sat atop a hill, the backyard stretching at least three acres, with a clear path down to the beach that was just their own, until their younger neighbors tried to sneak in occasionally.

Azzi loved the privacy: loved feeling like she had a place that was just her own, and her family’s of course.

As Azzi finished packing in an extra pair of socks, Paige walked in through the open door, her navy backpack slung over her newly tanned shoulder.

Paige’s bright red, burned skin finally turned to a tan, her pale skin never tanning easily. Like clockwork, Paige gets a near third degree burn halfway through the summer when she’s decided “sunscreen isn’t for her” and everyone else groans, knowing they’re in for at least a week of her complaining after.

“Do you know if it’s supposed to rain tonight? Your dad was asking if we should grab the tents.”

Azzi shook her head, knowing her weather app told her there was a 0% chance from when she checked earlier. “Just bring our sleeping bags from the laundry room. I’ll be out in a second.”

Paige nods, leaving Azzi to zip up her bag and turn off her lights. The kids made a rule years ago, much too outdated at this point to still be following, that they couldn’t bring phones, and once outside, they couldn’t go back in. Hence, sleeping in a gross tent rather than in their warm, more importantly, roofed, beds.

The families piled in outside, throwing their bags and blankets to the couches on the back porch and leaving to go set up the games. Azzi shook the can of washable spray paint in her hand, drawing poor wavy lines in the grass to make a makeshift field with a halfway line and some uneven end zones.

The teams had been the same as long as Azzi could remember, and once Drew, Paige’s much younger brother, was born, he just joined in with Paige, not really being old enough to contribute anyways.

Azzi played a quick game of rock-paper-scissors with Jose, the boy winning the game and awarding himself the position on offense. He stood behind Jon, who held the football in his hands, bent over and ready to throw.

Jon threw the ball to Jose, who caught it with ease. Jon ran out into the field waiting for Jose to pass it back, Paige sticking to him like glue, her tall figure towering over his. Azzi instructed Drew to count to five and then run over to Jose and pull his flag.

Drew counted softly, Azzi holding him in place as he counted to five in less than two seconds. “You little cheater.” Azzi teased before letting him go after a real count of five.

Drew chased after Jose, trying to pull at his red flag. Jose managed to pull himself away from Drew, throwing a rushed pass to Jon near the halfcourt line. Jon threw himself forwards in an attempt to catch the pass, pushing Paige over with him and both of them toppling to the ground.

They both fell to the hard dirt with a bit of a groan, the grass not very forgiving after it’d been run around on and mowed so many times. Azzi rushed over to Paige, Jon already being helped up by Drew. Paige sat up slowly, lifting her shirt up at the hem to see if a bruise was forming.

Azzi watched intently at the reveal of skin, irritated but not purpled yet. Azzi saw a flash of Paige’s soft ab lines, the ones that had seemed to distract her all summer long. Azzi offered her hand out to Paige, the older girl accepting with a slight grimace.

She stood up with ease to Azzi’s relief, and let her shirt fall out of her grasp as she did. “Don’t worry, Az. I’m good.” Paige responded before Azzi could even ask, seeing a look of worry painted across her face.

“Second down!”

-

The girls, finally out of breath and sweating, too tired to keep going in their football game, take to the porch where their dads are calling out frantically that dinner is ready and that they have to “rush over before their burgers burn.”

Jon and Jose sprint over, pushing each other as they do so, trying to get first pick for their dinner. Azzi and Paige take their time, Paige’s arm casually swung over Azzi’s shoulder, giggling in her ear about how badly they beat Azzi’s brothers.

They both grab their paper plates, filling them up with various dishes: corn, mac and cheese, hot dogs - the barbecue basics.

As they take their seats, the girls waste no time before digging into their meals, Azzi messily biting into her ketchup drenched hamburger. As she pulls her food away from her mouth, a swatch of ketchup stays on the corner of her lip, accentuated even more when she looks over to Paige who’s laughing at her.

“What are you laughing for, weirdo?” Azzi teases, slapping Paige on the bicep playfully.

Paige, not seeing a need for explanation, leans in closer to Azzi, her hand finding the crook of Azzi’s neck and her thumb caressing the corner of her plump lips.

Her thumb swipes the ketchup out of the slit, before bringing it to her own mouth and licking it off.

“Ew!” Azzi exclaims. “Paige, that’s disgusting.” She continues to complain. “You are such a child, my God.”

Paige just chuckles, her stomach beginning to hurt from laughing for so long. “Shut it, princess.”

-

Eventually the night slows down, the clear sky starting to form bright stars and the families setting up for bed. People’s t-shirts were replaced with hoodies, for the most part, which all had “Silver Lake” plastered across the chest or the sleeve, another one of their traditions.

“Paige, will you throw me my sleeping bag?” Azzi asks as she throws her curly locs into a bun above her head. She forgot to pack her bonnet, so a simple high bun will have to do.

Azzi watches as Paige pushes through the pile of sleeping bags, looking for the ones she brought for herself and Azzi, however she comes back up with a guilty and embarrassed face.

“I… may have grabbed the big sleeping bag and thought I grabbed two.” Paige scratches her head, holding up the queen sized sleeping bag and pointing to the otherwise bare couch cushions, all the other sleeping bags already claimed.

“Whatever, it’s fine. Jon is totally gonna kill me if I go back inside to get it.” Azzi sighs. “I swear, Bueckers,” Azzi points, but Paige cuts her off before she can continue.

“One of these days I’m gonna kill you. Yeah I know.” Paige rolls her eyes having heard that phrase spoken by Azzi a few times more than one.

Paige and Azzi drag their sleeping bag out to the top of the hill, near the path to the beach, like they’d always done. Paige takes off her t-shirt, crawling into the sleeping bag in just her shorts and sports bra.

She catches Azzi watching her, her eyes not watching her face but her figure and how it moves. “You good over there, Az?” Paige asks, trying to swallow back the smile that is tempting to form on her face.

“Just get in the bag, Bueckers.”

Paige obliges and Azzi follows, doing the same. Azzi lies facing the opposite direction of Paige, their backs grazing but not pressing against each other.

“Good night, Az.”

“Night, P.”

-

It’s silent outside, all animals have gone to bed, even the annoying hummingbirds that always seem to want to bother Azzi while she sleeps. Jon and Jose are fast asleep, as are Paige and Azzi’s parents. The stars still shine and they seem to be the only thing awake at this ungodly hour.

Oh, and Paige along with them.

She stirs in her sleeping bag, not wanting to move too much as to wake Azzi up, but unable to find a comfortable position.

Around two hours have passed, it’s probably a little past one in the morning and Paige has officially given up. Sitting up in her sleeping bag and pushing her pillow behind her, to the back of the tent, she breathes in loudly.

No movement from Azzi.

Paige clicks her tongue to the roof of her mouth, trying to be obnoxiously loud.

Still, Azzi sleeps silently.

Paige leans down to Azzi’s shoulder, blowing on the crevice between her neck and jaw, hoping the breath of air will jolt the curly head away.

Still, nothing.

Paige rolls her eyes and gives in, tapping Azzi on the shoulder and watching as her eyes flutter open, turning towards the blonde.

“What the fuck, Paige.” Azzi groans, rubbing her eyes open and sitting up, knowing she’s now gonna be unable to fall back asleep.

“I can’t sleep.” Paige explains, not making eye contact with Azzi and fidgeting with her fingers.

“Tough luck. Go on a walk or something.” Azzi complains, annoyed with Paige for taking away her precious sleep.

“Let’s go to the beach.” Paige blurts, watching as Azzi turns to her with an annoyed look.

“No way, Paige. My mom would kill me. It’s also, not sure if you’ve realized or not… but the middle of the god damn night.”

“C’mon Azzi, it won’t kill you. Let’s have some fun. It’s our last night together for a while.”

Azzi stirs in her position, contemplating if she’s actually going to agree to this or not. She knows she’s not gonna be getting back to sleep anytime soon, but it’s also basically the witching hour and though she won’t admit it to anyone, Azzi never really got over her fear of the dark.

Azzi knows Paige does have a point. She probably won’t see her until at least winter break, minimum, after this and she doesn’t really want them arguing about who gets to go back to sleep to be their parting memory.

“Alright, fine. But we’re coming back quickly and going so quietly that we won’t even wake up a fly.”

Paige nods, already agreeing in the silent part that Azzi wants her to oblige to and starts to stand up. She pushes her sandals over her feet and throws Azzi her flip flops from beside her hoodie.

The two girls tip toe out of bed, sneaking past their families and suddenly very grateful they chose to put their sleeping bags so close to the beach path. They start down the trail, not saying much until they’re excessively far away from the house and their families.

“What are you thinking about?” Azzi ponders aloud, reading through Paige easily. She’s still whispering, though she’s not sure who she’s trying to stay quiet for.

“How do you know I’m thinking about something?” Paige challenges back.

“‘Cause it’s the only time you can’t sleep. Otherwise you’d be keeping me awake with your snoring.”

“I do not snore!”

“Oh, yes you most certainly do.” Azzi giggles, recalling the annoying, yet somehow fond, memories of Paige keeping her awake and forcing her to go sleep in a different room with the soft sound of her snores.

“Whatever. I wasn't thinking about anything. Just couldn't sleep, ‘dunno why.”

“Liar. But I'm not pushing because I’m still barely awake.”

At this point, the girls are walking on the beach, sand curling between their toes as Paige directs them forwards towards the ocean rather than turning so they can walk further in the sand.

“Paige Madison, we are not swimming in this lake right now.” Azzi looks over to Paige, abandoning her whispers and talking, more like scolding, at a normal level.

“C’mon princess, lighten up a little bit. We used to do it all the time.”

“Swim at night?” Paige nods. “Uh huh. Usually while the time has a PM after it, though.” Azzi fights back stubbornly, still not wanting to allow herself to give in.

“Neither of us even have suits on.”

Paige plasters a knowing look on her face and Azzi immediately allows her lips to draw a face of fear. “No way. I’m not going skinny dipping right now. This has not gone well in any horror movie and I don't want a true crime documentary made after us.”

“Alright, well I’m getting in. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Paige pauses as her and Azzi get further and further onto the dock. “But, please don’t make me swim by myself.”

Paige pouts, jutting out her bottom lip and tilting her head slightly at Azzi. Even in the dark, dimly lit sky, Azzi can see the sparkle in her bright blue eyes and can feel herself giving in bit by bit.

Azzi sighs, dropping her shoulders in silent agreement and beginning to strip her clothes. She watches as Paige rids herself of her clothes first. First her basketball shorts, then her sports bra, and finally her boxers. Azzi watches with intent, sucked into the vortex that is Paige Bueckers.

Azzi follows in the undressing task, going slowly while Paige climbs down the ladder and into the water that’s only gotten warmer along with the summer air. Azzi strips herself of her athletic shorts and underwear, then her maroon hoodie, and finally her teal bra.

Paige has to stop herself from letting her jaw drop as she watches Azzi unclasp the bright colored bra. It pairs so well with her dark, tanned skin, and Paige can’t help but find herself glad Azzi can’t see her expression.

Once Paige is off the ladder and Azzi is bare, the brunette starts her own descent down the ladder, climbing down slowly, inadvertently teasing an already flustered Paige.

Azzi suddenly has a realization that she should have had before she agreed to get into the water, or when she undressed, or even before she submerged herself in the deep water.

She can’t stand here. Her feet touch the sandy ocean floor and the water sucks in her mouth and nose along with it, her eyes and forehead barely protruding through the water’s surface.

“I can’t stand, Paige.” Azzi groans as she swims her body back to the ladder, beginning to tread water along the way. “I’m getting out. We’re going back.”

“No way, we just got here. I’m not walking half a mile back after not even being in here for a minute.”

“Alright, well that’s great for you, but I’m not treading water for half an hour, so you can walk back on your own.” Azzi’s already begun to start climbing back up the ladder when Paige blurts it out.

“Just c’mere.”

Azzi turns around while on the ladder, half of her body freezing in the cool air and the other half still covered by the water. “Excuse me?”

“Swim over here. I’ll hold you.”

A look of bewilderment and disbelief is painted on Azzi’s face because… what?

“Are you crazy? I don’t have a bathing suit on, Paige! That’s weird, even for us.” Azzi adds the last part, knowing that even for a decade-long friendship, that’s a bit much.

“How long have we known each other Az? Ten years. It’s nothing I haven't seen before. I promise. Just let me have a good last swim here. Preferably not alone.”

Azzi’s never been able to say no to her. Never in their ten years has she ever learned how to not give in to Paige, how to look away from her warm eyes and decline whatever ridiculous thing she wants from her.

Azzi, sighing once more, climbing back down the ladder and swimming over to Paige, her curly bun fallen down her back, hair tie sunk underneath the water, never to be seen again.

Azzi wraps her arms around Paige’s shoulders, her fingers intertwining at the nape of Paige’s neck, bumping the bottom of her low, messy bun.

Paige brushes the bare skin of Azzi’s thigh, wrapping one leg around her waist, Azzi bringing the other to match by herself.

They both know this is weird. They both know this isn’t something friends do. But neither of them are moving. And neither of them seem to be disgusted with the other.

Paige tries to ignore the fact that she can feel Azzi’s clit against the skin below her navel.

Paige tries to ignore the fact that she can feel Azzi’s nipples, hardened from the cool air, palming her own chest.

Paige tries to keep her eyes locked on Azzi’s, and Azzi tries to do the same, but both girls are failing miserably, their eye contact growing weighted and heavy.

They just stand there for a few minutes, Azzi wrapped around Paige with care and Paige holding her up with ease. They both study the night sky, the stars rendering a beautiful picture above their heads.

It seems impossible, but the girls seemed to have grown closer than before Paige first picked up Azzi. Azzi seems to be more pressed into Paige’s stomach, and Paige’s hands have seemed to travel closer to Azzi’s ass from their former placement on her thighs.

Azzi meets Paige’s eyes, this time firmly locked on hers, and they both just stare. They have the same expression mirrored on either side of each other, salacious and hungry, yet also fearful. Both girls seem to shake a little with each breath before Paige finally speaks.

At a whisper so low that Azzi can barely make out the words, Paige breathes out, “Can I kiss you?”

Azzi just looks deeper into Paige’s eyes, trying to stop herself from letting her eyes flicker down to Paige’s lips. But she can’t.

Like she physically can’t.

So she leans in, pulling Paige’s head closer to her with the hand around her neck, and slots their lips together. Paige tastes faintly of salt and vanilla, probably from the chapstick she’s always applying and Azzi can’t get enough of it.

Azzi kisses her like she’s starved and Paige kisses her back just the same. They breathe into each other, chests pressing further and further into each other as they do so, voracious and needy.

Their senses are heightened from their bare states, no skin of Azzi’s left untouched as Paige’s hands begin to wander around Azzi’s shaky body.

The two girls only pull away occasionally to catch their breaths, like they can’t take a second away from each other’s lips.

Paige is infatuated with the way Azzi tastes: better than she ever could have imagined.

Paige slips her left hand out from under Azzi’s thigh, catching the little drop with her right forearm, which is now laid out under Azzi’s ass.

Paige’s left hand slides up between their chests, palming one of Azzi’s breasts, earning her a quiet whimper from the curly head. Its noise is swallowed by Paige’s mouth, but all that does is urge Paige on more.

Her hand continues to graze across Azzi’s body, pinching her nipples, and Paige grows more and more hungry with each soft moan from Azzi’s mouth. Paige is in utter disbelief with how pretty Azzi sounds and she can’t imagine she’s gone so long without being serenaded by its sound.

Paige’s kisses begin to trail down Azzi’s jaw and quickly find her neck, Azzi mindlessly tilting her head so Paige has more area to work. Paige’s tongue touches every inch of Azzi’s neck, trying to find the places to suck on that make Azzi go mad, and trying to memorize them for later.

Without even realizing she’s doing it, Azzi begins to slightly push herself onto Paige’s stomach, trying to give herself some relief against the ridges of Paige’s abs.

Paige quickly realizes what Azzi is doing and is grateful to see that she seems just as needy as Paige is right now.

At the same time Paige finds a particularly sensitive spot towards Azzi’s collarbone, Azzi catches her clit on just the right part of Paige’s stomach and she lets out a loud moan as Paige sucks the skin and lets it go with a ‘pop’.

“Do you need me, Azzi?” Paige whispers against Azzi’s neck.

Azzi nods promptly, forgetting about embarrassing herself and being consumed by the need pulsing inside her.

Azzi feels Paige smirk against her neck as she kisses back up from her neck to her lips and continues to play with her chest.

Paige positions her right arm, the one that’s balancing and holding Azzi up, so that she can reach where Azzi needs her the most.

Paige wastes no time, beginning to draw slow, tantalizing circles over Azzi’s clit, and Azzi begins to melt like putty into Paige’s hands. She can’t silence the pathetic noises that are coming out of her mouth and she can’t help her want for more.

She presses herself further down into the pads of Paige’s fingers, wanting, scratch that, needing more pressure from the blonde.

“Fuck Paige-” Azzi murmurs out, her words coming out jumbled and broken up, Paige removing her ability to form coherent words.

Paige shifts her hand down from Azzi’s clit to the bottom of her lips, her finger splitting them open and taking a dive into the wetness.

Azzi’s slick mixes with the lake water around them and while water surrounds them, Paige knows the slick her fingers are feeling is not that kind of wetness.

“Holy shit-” Paige murmurs, in disbelief with Azzi and herself for how wet she is. “You this soaked or is it the lake?” Paige asks, though she already knows the answer.

“Jesus-” Azzi whimpers out, unable to breathe properly. “It’s for you, P.” Azzi admits, squirming under Paige’s touch, desperate for any kind of contact from the blonde.

“For me, huh?” Paige gloats, never missing a chance to feed her own ego. Paige traces her finger around Azzi’s wetness, gathering it with her fingers and dragging it along her center.

Azzi twitches as Paige drags the slick up to her clit and presses deep on either side of the sensitive bud. “Paige… fuck- just-” Azzi tries, she really tries to get her words out, but she chokes on her own moans and can’t take the throbbing much longer.

“What do you need, princess?” Paige taunts, her movements getting slower and softer, her kisses still peppering down Azzi’s neck.

“You.” Azzi manages, chasing Paige’s fingers as they move slowly, trying to press herself down harshly.

“You already have me.” Paige smiles against Azzi’s skin, knowing that’s not what she meant.

Before Azzi can open her mouth to clarify more or to protest, Paige shoves her fingers inside Azzi’s center, pumping them in and out slowly to start, but gaining more urgency as she goes for longer.

The harsher she presses down, the louder Azzi is for her, and Paige has never been so turned on in her life. Azzi is a jumbled mess. The only words she can get out are broken swears and “please”, though she doesn’t even know what she’s asking for.

“Paige-” Azzi pleads out, grinding down on Paige’s fingers as she strives for the release she’s hungry for. “My god.”

“Say my name again, Az. Say it again for me.” Paige asks, though she’s not really asking, more so demanding.

Azzi obliges and lets out another string of curses as well as a moan that Paige makes out to have her name written underneath the breathy sounds.

“You’re-” Azzi pauses to swallow and tries to breathe. “Fuck, you feel so good, P.” At this point, Azzi’s nearly blacked out. She barely knows what she’s saying, just mumbling out whatever comes to her brain and letting herself be handled by Paige.

“You’re doing so good, Azzi. So good for me.” Paige whispers into Azzi’s ear, the sensual tone making Azzi more needy and starved for Paige’s touch.

A few more minutes pass, and Azzi can’t stay like this forever. Her movements have become completely broken up and she’s a mess. Her hair is flipped over to one side, and Paige is still moving with the same urgency.

Her head is thrown back and Paige is still attacking her neck, leaving marks she’s sure will still be there in the morning.

“I can’t… last much longer, P.” Azzi groans out, her words so broken that Paige can barely understand what she’s trying to say.

“It’s okay, Az. Let go for me. Let me feel you.” Paige slows her words at the last part, trying to make herself sound more sensual and less nervous than she really is.

With that, Azzi taps out, leaning into Paige as she collapses, Paige’s movements not slowing until Azzi’s fully come down.

Even under the water, Paige can feel the shaking of Azzi’s legs, and with Azzi leaning right into her ear, the pretty sounds she’s making are louder than ever.

Paige feels herself growing wetter with every moan from Azzi and every whisper of her name.

“Oh my god… fuck-” Azzi moans out with her climax, too spent to be ashamed of how loud she is at this point.

Paige works her through it, her fingers still pumping, harder than ever, as Azzi continues to shake and press into her shoulder.

Eventually, Paige’s movements slow and she slowly pulls her fingers out of Azzi. Her hands return to their previous position on either side of Azzi’s thighs, a much more stable way to hold her, as she leans in for a kiss to her lips.

This time it’s slower, less rushed. Less hungry and needy. But there’s still a hint of that underneath: Paige now desperate for a relief of her own.

They kiss slowly for a few moments, Azzi catching her breath against Paige’s lips and readjusting to the silence she created with the halt of her whimpers.

After a while of their chaste kisses, they heat back up again, this time Azzi initiating the harshness of it all. She starts to explore Paige’s mouth like it’s a piece of art she’s trying to memorize and store for later, and Paige just lets it happen.

She lets Azzi control what’s happening, hoping if she lets this happen, she’ll get the same release Azzi did.

But Azzi’s not as quick moving as Paige, she likes to take her time getting to know Paige deeper. Her lips tattoo the skin of Paige’s neck and chest and Paige groans, partially out of pleasure, and partially out of frustration with Azzi’s pace.

Not being able to take it anymore, Paige tightly grips Azzi’s hand from behind her neck and slides it down her stomach. Azzi traces Paige’s abs along the way before she gets down to Paige’s wetness, and even then, she goes painfully slow.

She immediately inserts a finger inside Paige, but the one isn’t enough, and she’s going so slow that Paige barely feels anything except a little pressure.

“You’re killing me, Az.” Paige complains, though the whimper at the end of her sentence tells Azzi that annoyance isn’t the only thing in her tone. “You’ve gotta let me feel good.” Paige pleads.

“But I am making you feel good.” Azzi whispers innocently, tilting her head with a bit of a mischievous grin. “Patience, P.”

Patience is something Paige has never had, and now is definitely not the time she’s going to acquire it. She takes a hand out from under Azzi and reaches it down to her own clit, circling it with urgency and finally getting some relief: the kind Azzi’s refusing her of.

Azzi quickly notices and pushes Paige’s hand away, much to Paige’s chagrin. “That bad, really?” Azzi teases. “Fine.”

Azzi shrugs before pounding three of her fingers into Paige, the inside of her wrist palming Paige’s clit as she does so.

Paige is so worked up that she barely lasts two minutes of this, her body surrendering to Azzi quickly.

“Fuck.. Azzi…” Azzi cuts Paige’s babble off with a kiss. She can already tell Paige is about to unravel for her.

Azzi swallows the moans that pour out of Paige’s mouth, smiling as she does so. She finally slows her fingers when Paige seems to stop her shaking and calm down slightly.

Azzi can’t believe Paige managed to hold both of them up while doing that, and she sits back for a moment before realizing that she can’t believe what just happened as a whole.

As Paige finally comes back to Earth, she seems to have the same realization as Azzi. Both of them looking at each other with concerned looks on their faces.

“I- I’m sorry.” Paige is the first to speak. “I wasn’t trying to… do this when I woke you up. I promise.” Azzi can tell the statement is genuine, and she knows Paige too well to think that’s something she would do.

“Don’t apologize.” Azzi breathes out, Paige sighing a sigh of relief at her response.

It’s silent again, Paige still holding them up as they look into each other’s eyes, trying to get a sense of what just happened.

“Did that mean something, P?” Azzi questions, asking what she knew Paige was wondering too.

Paige sucks in a deep breath of the cool air before answering with a look of sincerity. “Yeah. I ’dunno, Azzi. I’ve been tryna’ read you all summer.”

“I love you.” Azzi blurts out and though the girls have been saying that for years, it carries a different weight now. And Paige knows that. She can tell in the way Azzi refuses to meet her gaze after she says it.

Paige pulls Azzi into another slow kiss, this one pure and wholesome in a way their others weren’t. “I lov-” Paige starts but Azzi quickly interrupts.

“I knew. I know.”

A beat of playful silence waves over the two girls. Paige joking rolls her eyes, accompanied with a large smile as she lets go of Azzi and swims closer to the ladder slowly. Azzi peels herself away from Paige's hips and follows behind, both of their legs sore, lips swollen, and necks bruised with kisses.

After Paige and Azzi have dried themselves off as best as they could without towels, Paige circles back. “You knew? And you made me wait all summer for you to say something?”

Azzi grins a little while nodding, chuckling at herself as she does so.

“You are so fucking infuriating.” Paige crosses her arms jokingly.

“Am I? Do you remember the lake about three minutes ago or?”

“Oh, I could say the exact same for you, Azzi.” Paige challenges back.

Paige stumbles over something rough at her feet, a pile of towels someone had left on the beach from the day prior. She leans down to pick two of them up and hands one to the girl beside her.

Ignoring their theft, they wrap their bodies in the stolen towels and Paige reaches down to grab Azzi’s hand.

They walk back to their families and sleeping bags with wide grins and fingers intertwined, the moon smiling down at them as they walk.

Long time coming.

[lesbikaiser]

freak in you – s. ryusei.

wc: 4k.

cw: size, breeding and mirror kink, a tiny winy little bit of thigh riding, belly bulge, fingering, lots of spit and an abnormal amount of cum (yours and his!), squirting, dirty talk, subspace mention, literally one clit slap, reverse cowgirl → (semi) full nelson → honestly idek what position it's but he's using your body like his personal fleshlight!! reader has a pussy but no pronouns were defined ^-^ shidou is nasty, a pervy and a meanie! you get cockdrunk at some point so dumbfication!!! also dacryphilia! reader gets called small a lot so beware!

a/n: this is straight up pure smut, no plot, just filthiness!

also i always try to make reader as neutral as possible in every feature so anyone can fit in my writings but for this especially reader is shorter than shidou – nothing impossible though since he's 6'1" tall and all but anyway! other than that, there's no specifications for skin/hair/eye colors, weight or anything! hope everyone is comfortable with what i write!

the atmosphere in your bedroom is suffocating as ryusei devours your lips, you feel his hands everywhere on your body at once and they make you feel so, so hot, your panties are soaked and practically glued to your core with how wet you're, and you know shidou can feel it too when he whistles, his muscular thigh meeting your clothed cunt.

"mmh, you're dripping all over my pants, sweets." the smirk stretching his lips is audible through his tone, fingers sinking on your hips and bringing you closer to him, you can't hold back the moan bubbling up your throat at the delicious friction his muscles give your sore clit. "is it all f'me?"

"shidou..." you only get to whimper, long lost in the trance he's put you in, it's like you're intoxicated as soon as his lips touch your skin, your mind unable to formulate thoughts about anything but him and his hot kisses trailing your neck, sharp teeth nibbling on your flesh.

"that's my name, pretty." he sings, wet tongue coming out to lick a fat stripe up your collarbone, it's all too much to your poor little head – and pussy. everything is foggy, you can only focus on your boyfriend before you, legs spreading wider to give him more room between them. your hips move on their own, grinding against shidou's thighs and oh, he loves it so much, how desperate you get for him everytime he kisses you on the right spots, the shy whimpers in that sweet voice of yours are music to his ears, he wants to consume every single part of you, fill your brain with him and only him – as if he needed to.

his lips leave burning spots on your skin when he pulls away, knee pressing further onto your drooling cunt as his large hands grab your sides, a squeal erupting from your throat and your fingers grip shidou's shirt, watery eyes staring at his devious ones.

"quit teasing, ryu." his antics bring a pout to your swollen lips, he can't help but snicker at your cute face – makes him want to totally rail you.

"no need to say twice, darling." and suddenly he's pushing you against the mattress, fingers hooking on the sides of your panties and sliding them down your legs and into his pocket – but not before sniffing them heavily. oh, he's such a pervert.

his digits plunge into your pleading hole without any time for you to get used to it, you can only moan in response at the way they stretch you out, your thighs lock around his wrists, earning a smirk from him before he pries them open, watching the way your greedy cunt swallow his thick digits.

"ryu–! ryu!" his name feels like a mantra on your tongue, he's just fingering and prepping you but it already feels so deep, his skilled fingers have no trouble in finding that spot inside you that has your eyes rolling back and your hips bucking up, the way he's thumbing at your little clit, rough pad adding to your pleasure as you slowly fall apart before him.

"gonna cum already, honey bun?" his teasing tone goes straight to your core, you try and whine in retaliation but shidou knows you love it, your cunt getting impossibly wetter tells him you do. the squelching sounds of his fingers dragging against your sensitive walls are quite embarrassing – for you, at least. because your boyfriend thinks it's one of the hottest things his ears have ever been graced to hear, your cute, desperate pussy so wet for him it literally soaks his palm. 

his face comes down to your breasts level, his hot tongue poking at one of your perky nipples before placing the wet muscle flat on it, lips wrapping around your soft flesh and sucking the hard bud into his mouth, the squeal you let out at the extra stimulation is so adorable he feels his dick nearly exploding.

when he pulls away from your mound, there's a string of saliva connecting his lips to your slick nub – so sensitive that the mere breeze of his breath against it makes your body twitch and a whimper escapes you. your skin burns under the boy's tongue licking up your collarbone, neck and jaw before reaching your cheek, leaving a trail of spit all over you, it feels nasty – and it makes your head spin. 

you can barely process your surroundings, all the thoughts that aren't related to your boyfriend vanishing from your mind like steam, you can only think about how good his fingers make you feel, how they fill you up so well and reaches all those spots inside you that your smaller hands can't, it's like your whole body is on fire, toes curling on the mattress and thighs quivering, threatening to close but the tall man hovering over you won't let them. the coil in your stomach only tightens and tightens, you know it's about to snap at any time now, and if you do, shidou does too – you can tell by the way his thrusts speed up, fucking his fingers into your fluttering hole at an inhumane pace – because of course, that's what he's; a demon luring you into his sweet temptation.

his hand grabs your face harshly, smushing your cheeks together to force your lips into a pout, your eyes opening as you stare at him with tears pooling on them, wetting your lashes and he swears he could cum untouched, right then and there, just by watching your face twisting in such hot expressions.

his tongue itches to be inside your mouth, tasting and consuming you entirely, claiming your body and soul as his – again, as if he needed to. his lips are on yours in a blink of an eye, sharing a bruising kiss and you can only moan when his teeth tug at your bottom lip, urging you to part them open and let him explore the depths of your mouth, his tongue licking against yours makes it so messy and dirty, spit running down your chin and leaking from the corner of your lips.

at this point your brain has already turned into mush, you're drunk and dumb on the pleasure he's giving you, unable to even kiss him back, all you can do is mewl loudly against his lips. your senses are filled with shidou ryusei and only him, you don't realize when you raise your leg up and your foot presses down on his growing bulge, earning a whimper from the man above you.

"heh, playing dirty now aren't we, sweets?" he mumbles, lips swollen and shiny brushing against yours as he speaks, tone giving away how much he yearns for you. 

your desperation is so palpable he can taste it, your nails scratch his biceps to try and ground yourself when his wrist touches your denied clit along with his fingers pinching your nipple, shock waves running through your whole body making it tremble, your back arching off the bed when it gets too much for you to handle, the tight knot in your stomach loosening up and you cum so hard your vision goes white for a moment, eyes rolling to the back of your skull. 

“that's it, make a mess for me.” his voice affects you like some kind of spell, your cunt gushing out more and more of your cum onto his palm, the bedsheets already soaked with your fluids only getting wetter and wetter as shidou keeps fucking his fingers into your hole, helping you to ride out your orgasm. “you're so fucking hot.”

the praise rolls off his tongue smoothly, going straight to your core and making you desperate for more of him, a whine ripping your throat at the sudden emptiness when he pulls his fingers out, you have no time to calm down from your high before your walls clench and beg for more, your brain not even considering that you might just break when it tells your lips to move and speak up, words leaving you so naturally.

"m–more, ryu…” your voice comes out strangled and laced with desperation, shidou's lips stretching in a wide smirk as his tongue darts out to lick them, contemplating the state you find yourself in – cheeks stained by dried tears, lips slightly parted as you try and catch your breath, eyes staring at him so sparklingly and so needy, pupils blown out and gaze overflowing with lust when yet again your foot presses down on his bulge. "wan' feel you inside."

oh, who's he to deny such a request? in one swift motion he's pulling down his sweatpants along with his boxers, you can feel your mouth watering at the sight of his huge cock standing tall and proud, leaky tip looking so inviting and seeming to be calling and telling you to wrap your lips around it.

you lift your upper body off the bed, supporting on your elbows as your eyes literally ogle over your boyfriend's dick, cunt drooling and clenching around nothing feeling so empty,  craving to be filled to the brim with his gooey cum.

shidou is pleased by your reactions, staring at him so dumbly and without a single thought in your head, just him and his stupidly huge cock that could easily rip you open – and it seems to be exactly what you want.

so that's what he does, hands holding your waist and hoisting you up so easily it reminds you of how bigger than you he's, how he could overpower you without any fight and literally manhandle you – just like he's doing now. in an blink of an eye he's seated down on the mattress, facing your back as you're on top of him, your fluttering pussy hovering over his sensitive tip as both of your eyes set on the mirror in front of you. 

you take a few seconds to look at yourself, your skin is covered up in hickeys from your neck to your breasts – a beautiful work of art in ryusei’s opinion; lips swollen and eyes puffy from the previous tears, your hair a little disheveled and inner thighs shining with your arousal. then you move to check your boyfriend and you swear you almost cum just from the sight, his own thighs apart in a manspreading as he supports his weight with one hand on the bed, wide chest in full display – you don't even know when he took his shirt off –  and that intoxicating gaze in his eyes staring directly at you, his huge frame making you look even smaller compared to him.

with shaky hands, you reach for his knees to steady yourself, eyes catching through the mirror the exact moment when shidou holds your waist with one of his hands, the other lining his dick with your entrance and you bite down on your lip in anticipation, his words giving away how eager he's.

“c’mon, hurry up and sit.” he lowers your body onto him, both of you hissing at the contact of his leaky, fat tip with your slippery cunt, even after all his preparation and the ridiculous amount of lubrication dripping down your thighs, your hole still flutters and clenches around him trying to accommodate his sheer size and you need a few seconds to get used to the stretch, you can't help the few tears pricking the corner of your eyes at how good it feels to be filled up, that familiar sensation of fullness hitting you and you're ready to start moving but then there's more. 

you look down to where you two are connected, only to be met with a few inches of your boyfriend's dick still out, your pussy all stretched around him and yet there's more to go in. it can't be true, your eyes must be betraying you because you can't believe it, of course you've had him all the way in and of course you knew how massive he's but you've never tried this position – and it's ridiculous how impossibly deeper he can reach in it. your hands fly to grab his, holding onto them as you try to stop him from sinking you further down.

“w–wait, ryu.” your eyes meet through the mirror, there's clearly a scoff on his face as he stares at you with one raised brow, you can feel the way his cock is pulsating against your walls and how much he's holding back to not just fuck you dumb already. your next remark blooms a proud smirk on his lips. “you're too big! ‘s not gonna fit…”

“‘course i am, pretty. gonna make it fit and y’gonna take it like you always do, yeah?” he teases, guiding your hips to meet his pelvis and literally splitting you open on his cock, you scratch at his forearms, wiggle your ass trying to escape from his vice grip on your waist, whine for him to wait and that “‘s too much, can't take it!” and squirm restlessly on his lap but none of these seem to stop him. he sinks you further and further down, your walls squeezing impossibly tighter around his shaft and making it no easy for him. “shit, loosen up a little f’me baby.”

you can't even make out his words, it's like you're being torn apart by his dick but god, it's amazing, the feeling too overwhelming for you to understand anything. it feels like he's in your ribs when he finally bottoms out, it feels hard to breath, a sigh making its way through his lips as he gives you an experimental thrust, watching how you'll react – but you're too light headed to complain, getting only to whine his name, head thrown on his shoulder.

his eyes trails down your limp body through the mirror, catching a glimpse of what seems to be a bulge on your belly. his fat tip rests against your cervix, you can feel the way his cock twitches and can't understand why until his fingers apply some pressure on your tummy, you whimper and immediately look down to where he's pressing, only to be met with the skin of your stomach slightly distended trying to accommodate your boyfriend's girth, and you feel dizzy. 

“ehe, pussy so tiny it can barely take my dick.” he growls in your ear when your cunt starts clenching uncontrollably around him, but you can't help it. it's how he said, his cock is so huge that your pussy can't take all of it without a bulge forming on your stomach, your mind is all fogged up and you don't stop your hips from lifting before letting them down, starting to ride him lazily. 

a proud, wide smirk appears on shidou's lips as he watches you struggling to move on his dick, your hands holding onto his knees to balance yourself, your arousal all over his strong thighs with how you're humping him. and you're being so damn loud, desperate moans overflowing your mouth because surprisingly it's not enough. not his dick – no, you've never felt so full in your life, but you can't seem to do it right, trying desperately to make him hit the right spot inside you.

shidou, however, is delighted, eyes fixed on how your pussy swallows him whole, your fluids forming a white ring around his base and soaking his balls, your frustrated cries reaching his ears and you sound so cute, he can't end it just now.

it doesn't take too much for you to grow tired, thighs giving out from trying and pleasure yourself, your body laying back and resting on ryusei's chest as you start to hump him pathetically, gaze finding his on the mirror and you mewl for his help, clenching your walls around his pulsating shaft and trying to convince him to fuck you.

and you look so vulnerable like this, grinding against his crotch like a bitch in heat and whining his name so helplessly, he's going crazy – feral, insane. with a sudden urgency, he's hooking his hands under your knees, pulling your legs up to your chest and exposing your stuffed pussy, his fingers gripping tightly on your thighs as he literally ogles your abused hole spamming around his length – the bulge on your tummy even more notorious now.

"woah, what a privileged view we've got here, don't y’think, sweets?" he whistles, bouncing your body experimentally on his cock and almost losing his mind with how easy he can move you, using your pussy like his personal fleshlight.

"shi– shidou–!” you yelp at his actions, feeling too ashamed to look at his face, the way he's holding you up against him with your legs wide open, cunt on full display for his hungry eyes, mirror reflecting the way his dick stretches you so well, your toes curl in the air as you paw at his hands – that's not what you meant when you asked for his help. "w–wait, ryu, this is embarrassing–!”

he doesn't listen to you – he never does. ignoring the way your nails scratch his skin, he starts bouncing you more fervorously, lifting your little frame off his cock – only the tip in – before slamming you down again, then repeating again and again and again. he's acting like an animal already, panting and grunting at your gummy, warm and tight walls rubbing against him so well, it's like you're trying to milk him with how much you're clenching, high-pitched moans spilling from your lips along with a few whimpers whenever his tip hits either your cervix or that sweet spot inside you that has you seeing stars – the spot that only his massive dick can reach.

there's not a single thought on your head aside from how well shidou is fucking you, using your body as he pleases like you're a ragdoll, made with the only intention of pleasuring him, your tongue lolling out of your mouth as your eyes are trained on the mirror – more specifically, on the dick going in and out of your hole in a inhumane pace.

oh, and shidou thinks you look so sexy like that. your face contorting in pleasure, spit dripping from your loosen tongue and eyes clouded with lust, you're unable to even formulate a phrase, only incoherent whimpers coming from your lips – completely drunk and dumb on his cock. “look at you, fucked dumb on my dick already, letting me use you as my cocksleeve, so small and so nasty.”

your nails dig into his biceps’ flesh, using them as some kind of leverage as he literally rails your pussy, you feel like you're about to melt under his touch with the way his tip hits your sweet spot over and over and over again, lazy eyes watching how the bulge on your tummy disappears before reappearing whenever he sinks you down.

it feels so good, to be manhandled, overpowered, left helpless with the only option of taking it, you're on the verge of tears and your throat is sore from moaning so loud but you can't help it when wave after wave of pleasure runs through your veins, the feeling is so overwhelming yet so amazing, you feel so damn full yet you don't want shidou to ever pull out, walls clamping down on his length furiously like your pussy is trying to get every single drop of him – and it's.

he growls and moans at the feeling, a smirk reaching his lips as even dirtier thoughts crowd his mind. he wants to make a mess of you, fill you up with his cum and spurt his seed so deep in your womb to claim you as his, marking you in every possible way as a sign that you belong to him, and your cunt belongs to where it rightfully is – being pounded by his cock.

“a–ha, such a dirty little thing, aren't you? so fuckin’ tight sweets, gonna make me cum so hard.” he's licking at your tears, biting your earlobe and whispering such nasty things against it, he seems to be on a mission of making you lose your mind – and he knows that he already succeed on it. “gonna fill you up so good, make you cum all over my cock, y’want that don't you?”

it's insane. the way he's pushing your knees together, one arm looping under them to hold you against his chest and he's holding you with just one arm, his free hand sneaking between your thighs to rub harsh circles on your neglected clit – and you nearly explode. “so good, so good, it's so good!” is all you can think, he's thrusting his hips up to meet yours and bouncing your body up and down, you can feel the way his dick is pulsating and how every single vein on it rubs so deliciously against your gummy walls, the rough pad of his thumb stroking your nub so fervently and it's all too much.

the knot inside you snaps and your toes curl in the air, your head thrown back on your boyfriend's shoulder when you cum on his dick, a long moan leaving your lips and your mind is blank, unable to process anything but the way your orgasm hits you.

“that's it baby, cum all you want, y're so hot.” you barely understand what he's saying, still lost in cloud nine due to your climax, slowly riding it out as you calm down, but shidou doesn't falter on his moves, hips still slamming into your ass and thumb still rubbing your clit – though it's a more feather touch this time. you whine and writhe in his grip, slurred cries about it being too much but he's not listening, he never is. “keep crying pretty thing, my dick’s gonna explode.”

he's a freak, you feel your whole body on fire as he continues to bounce you on his cock, the squelching sounds so louder now you've came, your body going up and down easier and you're so sensitive, even the tiniest thing is enough to make you snap yet once more – in this case, shidou's palm giving your clit a light slap. your eyes roll back to your skull behind your eyelids, your sore throat unable to make any sound but a high-pitched cry, legs shaking uncontrollably and your ears going deaf for a second when you squirt.

your cum drenches everything – shidou's arms, his thighs, your thighs, the sheets, even the mirror gets dirty with a few drops, you're truly making a mess, and ryusei loves it so much, he's brought over the edge as well, thick, hot ropes of cum spurting in your core.

he moans in your ear like a whore, dick throbbing and twitching as he blows his load inside you, it's so much it nearly bloats your stomach, some of it leaking from your hole as he keeps moving you up and down.

“y–eah, so damn hot sweets, gon’ knock you up, breed this pussy real good ‘till i’m satisfied.” he knows you're not listening, watching through the mirror how your body writhes in his arms as you try to ride out your orgasm, it's so intense and the way his hot cum is filling you up doesn't help at all, you feel so overstimulated that you can't even open your eyes, seeming to be on the verge of passing out, lips dumbly murmuring your boyfriend's name.

"uh uh, don't sleep on me now, pretty face, we're not done yet." when he finally pulls out, it's a true mess. his sticky cum is flooding from your cunt, dripping down your thighs and onto his along with your own fluids, it's the hottest thing he's ever seen and he takes a few seconds to fully admire it, before laying back on the mattress with you on top. he lines his dick with your entrance yet again, teasing voice breaking your subspace walls as he thrusts up, shoving all of his size in you with one swift motion. "gotta breed this pussy a few more times to make sure you're nice and full.”

[pathologicalreid]

and it feels like home | s.r.

in which Spencer confesses his love to you at the oddest of places - your sister's wedding

margovember

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: could be angst if you know what's coming next, jareau!reader, down bad!spencer, yearning, reader feels unlovable, spencer drinks champagne, reader does not drink, reader is shorter than spencer, reader wears a dress and heels word count: 1.93k a/n: and just like that, margovember is over (i have one more request for it technically but it's an episode rewrite so that'll take me longer to write). i was in need of some good yearning - this covers a request for their first kiss and for a fic with francesca by hozier levels of yearning.

You allowed yourself to be led away from the party. The past twenty-four hours had been amassed of you running around like a headless chicken, trying to put together your sister’s one-step-below shotgun wedding. Now that the party was in full swing, you willingly followed Spencer through the garden, a few remaining speeches going on in the background as the two of you rounded a corner, out of sight of party guests. “If I didn’t know you, I’d think you were leading me away from everyone to kill me,” you said offhandedly, adjusting the way your shawl fell over your shoulders.

Instead of looking up at Spencer, your eyes homed in on the way he was holding your hand as if he were about to lift it and press a kiss to your knuckles. Butterflies flurried in your stomach at the thought, but you quickly dewinged them, trying to focus on the issue at hand.

Something was wrong with Spencer; you could see it in the way he was shaking his hands. It looked like he was trying to get excess water off of them or if there was energy trying to exit via his fingertips. You were worried about him, sometimes he fidgeted when he was craving—though you’d only seen him in that state once before and you couldn’t ascertain what would have triggered him.

“I have to talk to you,” he repeated the same words that he’d told you when he first took your hand back at the gazebo. He had to be preparing to tell you something awful, you could tell from the way he wouldn’t meet your eyes when you finally glanced up at him. Deep brown irises flittered around, noticing each small detail that you and Dave had plotted out, but he never noticed you.

The blue dress that you had picked out to go well with the flowers and your hair was previously pinned to perfection but had since fallen out while you tried to sort out a last-minute issue with the caterers, but he didn’t seem to take mind of any of it. For better or for worse, you supposed. “What do you need, Spence?” You asked him, cocking your head and trying not to notice the twinkle in his eye when you called him ‘Spence.’ You promised yourself months ago that you’d stop waiting for someone who would never want you back.

You just couldn’t seem to get away from Spencer Reid.

It wasn’t that you saw yourself as undesirable, but a small part of yourself was under the impression that if he hadn’t made a move yet, it was never going to happen. He knew too much about you; he’d been the one to pick you up off of the floor when your last relationship fell apart. You wondered if he felt the same way, recalling the night you spent on his bathroom floor because you were terrified of finding a needle in his vein.

“Are you seeing anyone?” Spencer finally spoke, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking at you nervously. You eyed him curiously, the question faintly reminiscent of something a man would ask you if he were making small talk.

Foolishly, you had thought that you and Spencer had been well past small talk at this point, “No,” you answered, dragging out the vowel. “You already knew that, though,” You had talked to him about it last night when the subject of weddings came up, naturally.

He nodded in confirmation, “Right, yeah. Yes, I just needed to make sure before I started this conversation.” Spencer glanced over his shoulder as if he were being watched, or maybe he wanted to make sure no one saw the two of you in close vicinity.

You squinted at him, trying to get a feel for what he wanted to talk about without outwardly profiling him. “What conversation?” You asked, feeling like you were enveloped in a spiraling line of questioning—like you’d never get a straightforward answer.

“Do you remember this time last year? We’d just finished that sex trafficking case, and we were finishing paperwork late in the office, and you asked me if I’d ever been in love,” he said, panting like he was running a marathon. “I told you no, and at the time that was the truth. However, the circumstances have changed.”

Your stomach flipped, surging well past butterflies at this point as your face warmed—what was he trying to say?

He finally dropped your hand, resorting to placing each of his hands on your waist, stopping you from pulling away. Spencer felt impossibly close to you, even though the two of you had irrefutably been closer together, but not even an embrace would match up with the look he was giving you now. “I couldn’t let myself love you, not while you were in a relationship. It felt cruel to me, and it felt cruel to you because you had a boyfriend. It feels like we’ve already lived a lifetime together when we’ve never truly been together,” he told you, gently squeezing your waist as he spoke animatedly.

Instinctively, you took a step back from him, your breathing faltered slightly when you saw hurt flash in his eyes, “Why?” Your voice was no more than a breath, an appalled, exasperated breath. “Why here? Why now, Spence? We’re at my sister’s wedding,” you placed a hand on your chest “Please, can we talk about this tomorrow?”

Spencer was shaking his head before you’d even finished speaking, “No, it has to be now. I need to do this now,” desperation crept into his tone as he stepped forward, practically caging you against the siding of Rossi’s mansion.

You didn’t feel trapped, though, even with Spencer’s arms on either side of you, he was still Spencer. “Why now, Spence?” You peered up at him through your mascara-covered lashes. Maybe this was a consequence of his environment, surrounded by an evening that was sure to involve declarations of love, so he elected to make one of his own with you as a victim.

“Because I thought you were in that building,” he said exasperatedly, wide brown eyes watching you as if the answer had been completely obvious the entire time.

Realization dawned over you as you recalled the events from a few days ago: the bank robbery turned explosion that somehow ended in a marriage proposal. You chewed on the inside of your cheek as you eyed Spencer curiously, “You thought I’d gotten hurt.”

Spencer sighed, “I thought you were dead.” His eyes were trained on yours like there was nothing else in the world for him to look at, “For a moment, I lived my worst nightmare because I didn’t know if you were dead or alive, and I was stuck in Quantico with no way to reach you.”

Everything about the explosion was hazy, everyone was shouting for someone else, and you thought you’d imagined someone calling your name. You’d convinced yourself you were hearing things, some sort of after effect of the blast, but Spencer had been looking for you. “Spence,” you whispered, unable to gather the words you were so desperately searching for.

He shrugged helplessly, “I can’t go another day without telling you I love you.”

You felt like you were being stabbed in the chest repeatedly, unsure if you were on the verge of laughter or tears. “You never showed… I didn’t think—”

“You’re the only person I’ve ever met who I have a hard time reading, and I thought… I thought that if I waited for you someday, you’d realize that you love me too. I sat and I waited, and I helped you get over your ex and I am so grateful for you and your friendship, but it’s not enough for me,” he told you, no longer panting. This was Spencer completely levelheaded, emphatically declaring his love for you. “I need more of you and I can’t wait any longer.”

Eventually, the jig would be up. Someone would jump out from the bushes, and they’d let you know that you were indeed being Punk’d, but right now you were just looking into the eyes of someone who loved you. It would seem that no one else had ever truly loved you before, because the look Spencer was giving you could only be defined as love, yet it was unfamiliar to you. “You love me?” You asked, your voice no more than a whisper.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he looked at you, “I love you in ways that no one has ever loved anyone before, I’m sure of it.”

“Okay,” you breathed, eyes studying his expression for any hint of regret.

“Would you allow me that?” He stepped away, dropping his arms at his side, “I know I cornered you tonight, and it’s perfectly fine if you don’t have an answer for me tonight, but I’d wait years for you if that’s what it took.”

You were shaking your head as you took the opportunity to step toward him, propping yourself up on your tiptoes and pressing your lips to his, the picture-perfect moment for the two of you. Perhaps you startled him at first because it took him a moment to wrap his arms around you, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he pulled your body flush with his.

His lips tasted like champagne, and the soft tinge of the alcohol on your mouth only served to intoxicate you further, even though you yourself didn’t drink from a flute.

The universe had a funny way of working in your favor, and this time, it had given you your first meeting with Spencer almost four years ago. You had nearly two years of friendship under your belt now, which is why it was so easy for you to pull away from him slightly, grinning against his lips as you whispered, “I love you too.”

Spencer kissed you again, moving one of his hands to gently cup your jaw, moving his velvet soft lips against yours with purpose and care. Your arms were thrown over his shoulders, elbows crossing at the nape of your neck to support you. You’d have to get used to the height difference, and you’re sure you will.

“Hey, Y/N,” Someone called out, and the two of you bolted away from each other like opposite charges, “I think it’s about time to cut the cake, your— Oh.”  

It seems the two of you did not move fast enough, for you were now faced with Emily and her knowing gaze. Your eyes flickered over to Spencer just briefly before you looked back at Emily, “Okay,” you responded to her, your voice hoarse, “I’ll let the caterers know.” You started your trudge to the backyard, picking up your feet so your heels wouldn’t dig into the grass. “Are you coming?” You turned and faced Spencer; a watercolor pink brushed across his cheeks.

“I’ll be right there,” he answered, giving you a soft, patented Spencer smile.

You looked nervously over at Emily, dreading the fact that this thing between you and Spencer was barely fledgling and the team was already going to be aware. “You know,” she started, and you braced yourself for the teasing, “London’s a pretty good place to keep a secret.”

Mouthing a thank you to her, the two of you stepped forward, turning around only when Spencer called out your name one last time, “Save me a dance?”

You laughed slightly at the dopey grin he bore on his face before nodding, “For you? Always.”  

[lcriedlastnight]

Lando calling reader his wife even though they’ve only been together for about a year

oh my god yes anon i love this idea!

tw: fem!reader, swears maybe, she's on the shorter side! lmk if you want me to add anything.

w/c: 944

lando was the perfect boyfriend. he was everything you had ever wanted in a partner. you liked to think he was literally made for you. how can someone be so perfect for you and not be? it was not possible.

you loved pet names and he loved calling you them. you loved touching him in anyway you could and he loved touching you ten times more. you loved doing things for him to show him just how much and how deeply you cared for and loved him and he loved sitting back and letting you help him destress from a busy race weekend. when you needed space? he would just go away to race for the weekend and let you realise that you could barely function without him and his love.

you had been out shopping with some of your friends for one of their birthdays. it had been nice catching up with them but your separation issues from your boyfriend had ended up kicking in and you could not wait to get home. you were itching to just sit on his lap and have him explain the plot of some dumb film that he had put on while waiting for you to come home.

when you trod back into lando's place, slipping off your shoes and leaving them by the door, the first thing you hear is lando's infectious laugh booming from his streaming room. it makes you smile as soon as you hear it even though it makes you realise you probably will not be able to sit with him for at least another hour, at least. your hands are still holding onto your shopping bags as you pass by his room as quietly as you possibly can, so as not to disturb him and his friends. you dump the bags in your bedroom and plan to head back into the living room to watch some tv and relax.

lando hears you this time and calls out for you, the door is creaked open a touch as you prepare yourself to be seen by millions of lando's fans. as you enter the room you hear one of the guys lando was streaming with (you were almost positive it was ginge) ask lando something you could not make out. lando's response almost kills you off though, his fans too.

"nah, the wife is just back home from shopping so i'll be finishing this game then hopping off." if you were holding anything it would have just fallen and shattered to the ground. you hoped your expression was hidden from his camera. you clear your throat and lando spins around mid-game to greet you. he slides his gaming headphones down to rest on his neck and reaches back to mute the stream but not before he mutters out in the warmest voice he can muster, a "hiya, honey."

you smile down at him as he shuffles his chair closer to you then sticks hims arms out like a child, practically begging for a hug from you. your mind is still stuck on the wife thing but you fall into his arms willingly anyway.

you straddle him on the big gaming chair, the tops of your heads at the only things that can be seen on the camera. lando presses a few kisses into your hair as he holds you close.

"missed you while you were gone." lando speaks into your hair, it makes you laugh.

"i was gone for three hours."

"ugh, don't remind me! i almost died from boredem." lando groans, head falling back against the soft material of the chair. you just laugh into his neck, nose brushing his throat softly.

"drama queen." you roll your eyes.

lando looks down at you with the biggest heart eyes you have ever seen and you feel your heart melt into a massive puddle in your ribcage, you feel it drip down to settle into your stomach.

"so i'm your wife then, huh?" you ask with a smile and a teasing tone. you feel lando tense up a little but he relaxes as soon as he feels your smile against his skin. his hand comes to splay out across your back to keep you supported. then he is smiling as he explains himself.

"guess i'm just so used to called you my wife when i'm with my friends that i accidentally did it on stream. sorry honey, didn't mean to embarrass you." lando says, almost shyly. his eyes peer down at yours to see your reaction.

"you call me your wife to your friends?" you smile back at him, hand coming up to run through his messy curls. the other resting on the side of his neck.

lando grins a stupid big smile at you as your hand rakes through his hair. "well you're gonna be one of these days right? might as well get the practise in. don't wanna slip up and call my wife my girlfriend now do i?" he is cheeky in his words and tone but you let him off. even though his logic makes no sense. you know it makes sense to lando so you let that go too.

"okay, sure. whatever you say husband." you did not think lando's smile could get any bigger. you were so wrong. he laughs and holds you close. little did either of you know that lando had missed the mute button and around three thousand of lando’s fans, plus all his friends had heard you both. lando would find out once he went back on his phone the next day, spending the rest of the evening and then the night with his girlfriend (wife).

[wchswift]

🌺 “let’s have a baby!” *b spits out food* “a what now?” with Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Thank you

🩷

─── telling logan you want a baby

pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader

summary: you tell logan that you want a baby with him.

contents! fluff, domestic life, established relationship, talking about having a baby.

notes: It was supposed to be shorter but when I saw it I ended up stretching the plot more than planned lol. thanks for the request anon 💜 this is part of my 125 followers celebration! Join the celebration too!

The cabin was warm, the smell of home-cooked food filling the air as the fire crackled in the corner. It was a simple life, but it was theirs. Logan sat across from her at the worn wooden table, one hand lazily curled around a beer while the other stabbed at his food. He looked relaxed for once—broad shoulders loose, jaw not clenched for once, the habitual storm behind his eyes calmer than usual.

Perfect time to drop a bombshell.

She stabbed her fork into a piece of food, twirling it between her fingers. Casual. Relaxed. Then, with the same tone she’d use to suggest a movie, she said—

“Let’s have a baby.”

Logan didn’t freeze. He didn’t tense or give her one of those intimidating stares. No—he did something better.

He choked.

One second, he was biting into his steak, and the next, he was coughing violently. A rough a what now? escaped between wheezes, his hand pounding against his chest like that would somehow help.

She bit back a grin, completely unfazed, and took a casual sip of her drink. “A baby, Logan. You don’t know what a baby is? Want me to explain it to you?”

Logan shot her the flattest, most unimpressed look in existence. If looks could kill, she’d be six feet under.

She just grinned, meeting his glare with ease. “You heard me. Let’s have a baby. A tiny human. Yours and mine.”

“Darlin’, that’s not exactly somethin’ you just drop over dinner.”

She snorted, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Well, yeah. I figured I’d skip the dramatic lead-up and just say it.”

Logan muttered something under his breath, then leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. He grabbed his beer and took a long, slow sip as if alcohol might somehow help him process what was happening. It didn’t.

Finally, he set the bottle down with a thud and looked at her, expression unreadable. “And you’re serious?”

“Very.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked. He was silent for a moment, eyes searching hers like he was trying to find some crack in the statement—some sign that she was messing with him. But there was nothing. Only that damn steady, patient look of hers.

Logan let out a slow breath, shifting in his seat. “Jesus, princess,” he muttered.

She grinned. “So… that’s a yes?”

He shot her another look.

“That’s not a yes.”

“Nope.”

“But it’s not a no,” Logan grumbled and went back to eating, clearly hoping she’d let it go. She didn’t.

She rested her chin on her hand, watching him like she could see the wheels turning in his head. “You’re thinking about it.”

He scoffed. “I’m eatin’.”

“You’re eating and thinking about it.”

Logan shook his head, focusing way too hard on his plate. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me,” she teased.

Logan didn’t look up. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but there was no bite to it.

And just like that, she knew. He might not have said yes, but he hadn’t said no either. And for Logan, that was as good as an answer.

Maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t so impossible after all.

The conversation didn’t come up again.

Not while they finished eating. Not while they cleaned up. Not even when they settled into bed, the soft hum of the wind outside filling the comfortable silence between them.

But Logan was still thinking about it.

Lying on his back, one arm folded under his head, he stared at the ceiling. His mind ran over the idea like a blade he wasn’t sure was sharp or dull—wasn’t sure if it’d cut him open or just sit heavy in his hands.

A kid. His kid.

The thought should’ve scared the hell out of him. Maybe it did. But it also… didn’t. Not the way he expected.

He glanced to the side.

She was asleep, curled into the blankets, her breathing soft and even. Peaceful. Unaware that she’d just completely rewired something deep in him with one damn sentence over dinner.

Logan swallowed, gaze lingering on her face.

He’d had a lot taken from him in his life. A lot of people, a lot of memories, a lot of time. But here she was, asking him to have something. Something real. Something that wasn’t just fighting and running and waiting for the next bad thing to hit. He was still afraid, afraid that his kid would be like him. A mutant.

But maybe… maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea. Not if it was with her by his side.

His chest rose and fell with a slow breath.

Then, wordlessly, he shifted closer, his arm slipping around her. He pulled her against him, pressing his lips to her forehead, lingering there for a moment.

“Yeah, alright,” he muttered against her skin, voice low, rough, barely a whisper.

She stirred slightly, shifting into him, but didn’t wake.

Logan let his eyes close. Relaxing with the choice he's come to.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

taglist: @namikyento (if you want to be added let me know <3)

[rosesdrop]

Your most striking/attractive features

Pile 1 :

The first thing I'm noticing for people of pile 1 is their head; the head structure and the hair are really enticing; the jawline or the jaw area in general are really attractive and do stand out; also, your voice or the tone of your voice is something that people find very interesting to listen to; even your words and what you have to say are really powerful and leave an influence; for some, your voice is charged with emotional depth and understanding that cannot be ignored once these words come out of your mouth; if you sing, then your voice is soft and makes people emotional to hear it; you may also prefer singing sad or emotional songs. Your creative ideas are interesting and you have some sort of sharpness to the way you think, unusual ideas are likely to come up but not ones that freak people out but those that keep them wondering since they haven't seen that situation in that way until you mentioned what's on your mind, people find it odd but in a good way, you often leave them wondering and on their toes on what idea you're going to be proposing next, partners may think that you are plotting something most of the time and they cannot pinpoint your next action, they get really exited to hear your thoughts but also anxious because your intentions may be backed off by an unstable and out of the ordinary thinking system. you might have a shorter height than average or just be short from your view or other people's view also your height matched with you body weight makes your body shape look very attractive whatever shape it may be..it just gives perfection. You probably have a baby face, or just have softer features which really stand out, this softness that encompasses your overall appearance draws people in. Your face features give off some sort of nostalgic or gloomy but calm vibes..just like the moon, also the moon can be prominent is your astrological placements (whatever astrological system you use or believe in), but it plays a big part in your appearance and overall energy that you exude. For those who enjoy cooking, people that have tasted your food think it's amazing.

Pile 2 :

Pile number 2, the way you carry yourself, your posture, your drive, the way that you express yourself through your clothes, the way you choose to portray yourself to the world is very daring and speaks for itself. You're very fun, very playful, and active most of the time; you remind people of childhood; you could enjoy drawing; that's something that came up, and people like your drawings. You have a very childlike appearance but also mature in some way; there's a blend of energies where the purity of childhood meets the depth of the ancient; your type of beauty can be seen on those Renaissance portraits; where the faces drawn give a sense of originality. You could be someone who doesn't wear makeup a lot or prefers to keep it simple; your beauty is translated in a raw way. Your eyes are very interesting too; they are glowing most of the time and catch people's attention; they're very deep. You're probably someone who doesn't like attention or people staring at you or flattering you all the time, but you often find people staring at you or wanting to get in your energy. It's because you have a magnetic aura, so you attract a lot of attention from people. You are someone who is true to themselves and doesn't like to overly indulge in the material world or care about the current beauty standards that people strive to achieve. You are very comfortable with yourself and your appearance, and well, people find it interesting. People want to find out more about you; you appear to be more engaged in other things that are of bigger importance to you. If you wear perfumes, there is a scent that intrigues other people; you may use a scent that is not very common to them or one that has an unusual but catching smell. You generally don't let your guard down for people, and it keeps you protected. You appear distant, but you may have developed this approach over time as your sense of worth and knowing of yourself have grown. Some people may envy you for that and for your personal power; they notice that there's more to you than meets the eye.

Pile 3 :

Your body is very attractive, and it stands out. For most, I'm seeing tall stature and a model-like body. Your height is attractive and catching; you could be of any height; you don't have to be tall, but your body is something that people really take notice of. Anything you wear fits you—literally the body of a god/goddess—it's hard to be ignored. Your manners and the way you deal with people are very classy and sophisticated; dealing with you is a good experience for others, and you generally leave a good impression upon the first meeting. But there's a duality to you that kind of confuses others: when you look sweet and approachable, you turn out to not really care that much, or people find out that you're not actually someone to be messed with, and when you look distant, people get intimidated to approach you. They find out eventually that you were actually nice, and they were just under an illusion. There's an element of that in your personality.

Pile 4 :

Your legs and how you move—if you practice some sort of sport or dance activity, people like seeing you in motion. The way you walk is attractive. Your facial expressions are super flexible and change frequently; they're also super attractive and symmetrical. People love seeing your ever-changing reactions; you portray your emotions through your face and body language and probably not take notice of it, but others see it and they enjoy watching that. People like to observe your facial features; I'm getting people like to stare at you a lot. You have that entertainer's vibe and energy that people enjoy being near to. You catch attention easily and without trying, and it's fascinating. If you perform some sort of art or activity, as I mentioned, then people find you truly talented. The accessories that you wear and your choice of clothing are appreciated by many; you are perceived as having a high and artistic taste.