#that are a mix between mine and everyone else's

[hxney-lemcn]

Mine, Only Mine — Mr. Crawling, Gap, Silvair, Chopped, Hugeface, and Scarletella x gn! reader

summery: how jealous do some of the Homicipher boys get?

tw: unhealthy relationships (Mr. Hugeface & Scarletella)

wc: 1.2k

Master List

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Crawling

❥I know people have written about how he gets jealous…but I don’t really think he does? Or at least not terribly. The scene with Mr. Chopped and the cat ears show that Mr. Crawling won’t pout or get sad at you showing affection to others, just that he wants to gain the same attention (the ear scene…). So jealousy with Mr. Crawling isn’t too bad, just be prepared to shower him with more affection than the person you originally did. 

❥On the other hand, I do think his jealousy may increase if you ignore him. Say you give more attention to Mr. Scarletella, Mr. Crawling would get a bit sad and pouty, thinking you don’t like him anymore. If this happens, give him lots and lots of attention and reassurance, he’ll be super grateful. I mean he loves your affection anyways, so might as well give him some extra headpats and kisses. Even better if you only show certain signs of affection with him, it makes him feel special. 

❥Overall, not the most jealous, but not completely unaffected either. Make sure he gets his daily dose of attention/quality time and he’ll be as right as rain.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Gap

❥Uh, he gets more jealous than you’d think. Like…his whole thing is he wants to be special to you…in his own strange way. Doesn’t like the thought of someone taking his place as a jokester to you. Also why he brings you things he’d think you like from time to time, just to make sure you still have that special place in your heart for him <3

❥Hates hate hates when you call him bad or not good. He’s good! He swears! Remember how he’s helped you before! Gets all frowny when you call him not good and then call someone else good. He’s good too! Guess he has to prove it, AGAIN. It’s honestly kind of endearing how he has no clue how he actually kind of does like you? But not exactly in a romantic way? It’s honestly hard to label his feelings towards you, so why should I?

❥I’d say he’s the second most jealous in this list of characters, watching on angrily as you praise someone that isn’t him. Be prepared for magazines and books galore when he’s in this mood, trying to prove his worth to you. Kind of strange for someone to try so hard when they claim to not like you…

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Silvair

❥Definitely the chillest one here. Doesn’t really get jealous at all :/ If anything, he finds it entertaining when you’re affectionate with others. Gives him more insight to his lab rats. Yes, he sees everyone as a lab rat. Idk, I can’t really see him get jealous.

❥Maybe…MAYBE if someone else tries doing research on you, or if Ms. Nurse treats you instead he’ll feel a bit off. Like…you’re his test subject, he knows you from the inside out…literally and not in the fun sense. Why would you go to someone who doesn’t know as much about you and how this world affects you? It’s very hard to spot his jealousy, doesn’t even notice it/recognize it himself. He just doesn’t want anyone to mess up his data…that’s all…totally.

❥In conclusion, not really jealous. Doesn’t feel like he needs to be. You’re ‘friends’, doctor and patient, mad scientist and lab rat not many others threaten that balance between you. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Chopped

❥Honestly…Mr. Chopped I’m kinda mixed on how he’d be. Like on one hand, I could totally see him getting jealous if you call others cute or pay too much attention to them. On the other…he could probably care less. He loves himself, you love him, why does he need to get jealous? It’s clear how much you like him with the way you pamper him. I mean we get so many examples where you’re affectionate to Mr. Crawling in front of Mr. Chopped and he doesn’t really bat an eye. 

❥Now, I can see if he gets a bit insecure he might get more jealous. Whether it be because Mr. Crawling pats your head or tucks you into bed, Mr. Chopped feels a bit sad. He’d like to tuck you in, you look so comfy. Might be just a bit pouty, eyeing you like a dissatisfied cat. Easily rectified with head pats or even cuddles. Gets side tracked from his jealousy as soon as you give him a sliver of attention honestly.

❥Mr. Chopped is fifty fifty when it comes to jealousy, but it’s never too bad. He’s pretty comfortable with what you both have and doesn’t really feel threatened by others. After all, you did call him cute.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Hugeface

❥I wouldn’t say he gets jealous? More possessive than anything. Like that scene when Mr. Machete stumbles into his little makeshift dollhouse that he made for you and gets all angry that he’s there. It’s more of a ‘you’re not supposed to be here, this is our playtime’ more than actual jealousy. Throws a little fit whenever someone messes up your playtime. Very accusatory lmao.

❥Does not like when you try to escape. Was he not providing enough for you? Were you unhappy? You’re not allowed to leave! You’re his cute human! He can’t just find another one y’know. Mr. Hugeface may be lenient if he sees you happier, you need enrichment after all. Feels extra happy if you come back on your own violation. 

❥The most childish out of all the characters on this list. Isn’t afraid to throw tantrums, will also punish you by putting you in a solid concrete cube if he’s really upset. Yeah…not the most healthy of relationships to have…BUT! I do think you could convince him to be a bit better…? Maybe? Only if you put enough work in communicating with him though. Maybe punish him in your own way like leaving for longer if he threatens to trap you.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Scarletella

❥Uhhhhhhhhhhh. Top of the list when it comes to jealousy. Watches your every move with curiosity and spite. Why are you doing that to Mr. Crawling? Do it to him instead. Why do you look so happy braiding Mr. Chopped’s hair? Style his hair instead. Why are you looking so fondly amused at Mr. Gap? Don’t you find him amusing? You do like him, right? He likes you. He likes you a lot, and he thought he was enough…was he not?

❥Will stare through your skull. It is so intimidating. His smile? Strained, it makes your skin crawl. You have to make sure he doesn’t hurt your friends, he’s so close to snapping, but he knows that would upset you and that’s not his goal. So instead he stands ominously in the background, body staticing in and out while his hand clenches the handle of his umbrella. 

❥Not that easily mended. Likes to monopolize all your time and affection. Needs constant reassurance as well, he’s quite needy. If you like constant validation and no social life go for it, just don’t get too upset if he threatens your other monster friends…he can’t stand that you could like someone that wasn’t him.

[whos-the-seme]

Someone should honestly write a "4 Times That Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu Accidentally Acted Like Partners (and 1 Time They Finally Realized It)" thing. That would be so fun.

Here's some of what I got so far, though they're a tad incomplete. Feel free to add on!!!

Sharing a Bed

Shen Qingqiu stumbled into the peak lord meeting right before the starting time, eyes barely even open. He was impeccably dressed, as always, but the slight puffiness of his eyes and the way he was fighting back a yawn signaled to the fact that he might have rolled out of bed barely 5 minutes before.

He ignored the stares that he received as he made his way over and slid into the seat next to Shang Qinghua, groaning. Shang Qinghua raised his eyebrow at him, mildly amused. For once, he was the slightly well-rested one and his friend was the sleep-deprived mess. Despite this, he started pouring a cup of tea for the other.

"Shen-shixiong, did you even sleep properly? You were the one who told me to go home and get more sleep." He finished pouring the tea and passed the cup to his friend, before pouring himself a cup.

Shen Qingqiu groaned even louder at his words but accepted the cup. "I know, I know. I just couldn't get to sleep, though." He took a small sip and sighed in delight. "It's just that your bed is so much more comfortable than mine, so--"

Shang Qinghua, midway through drinking his tea, choked.

Silence.

Absolute silence. Mu Qingfang slowly put down his brush while Qi Qingqi's eyes darted between Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu, a smile spreading on her face.

Shen Qingqiu's slowly turning cog wheels finally realizes what he just said and the people he just said it in front of. Shang Qinghua made a slight wheezing sound.

Yue Qingyuan set down his own teacup, smiling pleasantly. "Shang-shidi's bed?"

"His guest bed!" Shen Qingqiu nearly yells. "I meant to say his guest bed, obviously that's where I sleep when I stay over, where else would I sleep, of course! I sleep in the bed that is not his!"

Shang Qinghua begins to nod his head frantically. "Yes, yes, he sleeps in my guest bed." Noticing the still dangerous glint in Yue Qingyuan's eyes, he begins to wave his hands around as if trying to stave off his impending doom. "N-not that Shen Qingqiu sleeps over often, or anything, ahahaha! It's just a spare bed that I happen to have--"

"I see," Yue Qingyuan interrupts, still smiling. Never before has Shang Qinghua feared for his life like this. He continues cheerfully, "Thank you for the clarification. Why don't we get this meeting started."

2. Robe Mix-Up

Shit! Shen Qingqiu had completely forgotten that he had to teach a morning class and was running late. He might have had too much fun last night reading trashy novels and bitching about them with Shang Qinghua, only to forget his responsibilities to his students. Upon waking and realizing the sun was already up, he nearly shoved Shang Qinghua off the bed trying to get up.

In his hurry to look presentable and still arrive on time, Shen Qingqiu grabbed the nearest outer robe that he could find and slipped it on, while simultaneously trying to fix his hair. Shang Qinghua, the traitor, simply rolled over and muttered something in his sleep, despite the chaos. He rolled his eyes at his best friend, despite the other not being awake to see it.

Finally ready, Shen Qingqiu rushes out of his bamboo house and starts to speed-walk, doing his best to still look majestic and peak lord-like, and not like he was running late to his own class. In his hurry, he doesn't notice the wide-eyed looks he was garnering from the older disciples he passed.

It was only when he steps into the classroom, and the previously hushed whispers and laughter of the teens fall dead silent, that he notices that something is wrong. They all stare at him.

"Good morning, everyone," Shen Qingqiu says pleasantly. No response. What, did he have something on his face or something?? He discreetly wiped at his cheeks, wondering what they were looking at. "Did something happen?"

"Shizun... isn't that...?" Ming Fan hesitantly spoke up, eyeing the blue robes that his teacher was wearing.

Shen Qingqiu followed his disciple's line of sight and looked down.

Ah. An Ding Peak Lord Blue. He must have accidentally grabbed Shang Qinghua's robes when getting dressed this morning.

Wait.

Fuck.

Shen Qingqiu can feel his face freeze.

Another brave disciple spoke up. "A-are those Shang-shishu's--"

"No," Shen Qingqiu says. His eye began to switch.

"But--"

"I said no."

Unfortunately for him, word spread fast, and by midday meal, there were people whispering about the fact that Shen Qingqiu had left his residence wearing Shang Qinghua's robes.

Shang Qinghua tsk'd at him from over the tea table they were taking their lunch at on An Ding Peak. "You just had to take my robe, huh? If you wanted to wear my clothes so bad, you could have just asked." An Ding disciples gawked at them on their way to do errands. One walked into a wooden post.

Shen Qingqiu glared at him, ears still burning red from embarrassment. "Shut up, Qinghua."

[rootedinrevisions]

What's Mine

SUMMARY: After months of secretly seeing each other, you and Tyler find yourselves caught between professional boundaries and personal desires. When a flirtatious rival pushes Tyler's jealousy to the surface, he claims you in a way that leaves no doubt about your relationship status-to you or anyone else.

A/N: sorry that these requests are taking so long! I appreciate everyone's patience as I try to juggle writing with Thank you to the person who sent the request for this one in. This one came from the prompt “I’m not the jealous type, but what’s mine is mine.” I've had this one mostly done for a while (like a week or so) but the scene at the end just wasn't coming together the way I wanted it to. But I think I'm finally happy with the final result. Hope you like it! xx

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. Cursing (I assume, I'm not positive though). Smut (P in V, Unprotected)

WORD COUNT: 5.4k

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added!

The bar was alive with energy, the hum of conversation and laughter mixing with the low strains of a country tune from the jukebox. Boone, Dani, Dexter, and Lily were engrossed in a heated pool game, their competitive banter rising above the noise. You and Tyler had claimed a small table near the edge of the room, tucked away just enough to let you watch the chaos unfold.

Tyler sat back in his chair, nursing a Budweiser. His long fingers tapped idly against the glass bottle, his eyes scanning the room with the kind of quiet intensity he always carried. You were close enough to feel his presence, that steady, grounding calm he exuded without even trying. But far enough apart to not draw suspicion from the rest of the team.

Your drink was nearly gone, and you stood, brushing your hand lightly over his shoulder. “I’m getting another. You want one?”

He glanced up at you, his lips quirking into a faint smile. “Nah, I’m good. Thanks, darlin’.”

You nodded and made your way toward the bar. It was busy, and a line was forming as people crowded to get the bartender’s attention. You leaned against the counter, letting out a soft sigh as you waited.

“Hell of a storm today, huh?”

The voice came from your right, smooth and friendly. You turned to find a man standing beside you, his elbow resting on the bar. He was tall, with a confident grin and a storm-chaser logo stitched onto his jacket—a rival team.

“Yeah,” you replied, keeping your tone polite but neutral. “Definitely one to remember.”

“Bet you’ve got some good footage from it,” he said, his grin widening as he leaned in slightly. “You’re with Owens’ team, right?”

You nodded, not bothering to hide the pride in your voice. “That’s right.”

“Lucky guy,” he said, his gaze lingering just a little too long. “I mean, you guys have a solid team. And... well, looks like you’re not just good at chasing storms.”

You raised an eyebrow, your smile tight. “Appreciate the compliment.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught movement—Tyler. He was still at the table, but his body language had shifted. His posture was no longer relaxed; he sat forward slightly, his fingers wrapped tightly around the neck of his beer bottle. His sharp green eyes were locked on you, his expression unreadable but intense.

The man at the bar didn’t seem to notice. He continued, his voice low and smooth. “If you ever get tired of running with Owens, maybe you should give our team a shot. We’ve always got room for someone like you.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Thanks but I’ll pass. I’m pretty happy where I am.”

The man didn’t back off, his grin turning slightly smug. “Well, if you ever change your mind—or just feel like grabbing a drink sometime—”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” you cut him off firmly, turning back to the bar as the bartender handed you your drink.

You glanced over your shoulder toward Tyler. He was still watching, his jaw tight, the muscle ticking in his cheek. His eyes flicked briefly to the man beside you before returning to yours. There was no mistaking the tension radiating from him.

You gave the man a polite nod before stepping away, leaving him at the bar as you made your way back to Tyler.

As you approached, Tyler’s gaze never left you. He set his beer down, his fingers drumming once against the table before he stood.

“Everything good?” he asked, his voice casual, but there was an edge to it—a quiet undertone that only you would catch.

“Fine,” you replied with a small smile, though you couldn’t resist teasing him just a little. “Why do you ask?”

He shrugged, his expression neutral, but his eyes gave him away. “No reason.”

You took a sip of your drink, watching him over the rim of the glass. His attention briefly flicked past you, toward the bar where the man still lingered. Tyler’s jaw tightened again, and he looked back at you, his gaze steady.

You raised an eyebrow, fighting the urge to smile. “You sure? Because you look like you’ve got something on your mind.”

Tyler didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stepped closer, his hand brushing lightly against your lower back as he leaned in. “Let’s dance,” he said, his voice low and firm.

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “Dance?”

“Yeah,” he said, already guiding you toward the dance floor. His hand stayed on your back, the contact warm and steady as he maneuvered you through the crowd.

The dance floor was dimly lit, strings of lights crisscrossing overhead and casting a warm glow over the couples swaying to the music. The song was slow and soft, a welcome contrast to the energy of the bar. Tyler stopped just at the edge of the dance floor, turning to face you.

“Here?” you asked, feigning nonchalance even as your heart gave a little leap at the intent in his eyes.

“Here,” he confirmed, sliding his hands to your waist.

He pulled you closer, the motion smooth and confident, and suddenly the crowded bar felt a lot smaller. You placed your hands on his shoulders, your fingers brushing against the soft, worn fabric of his flannel. The scent of him—faint cologne, beer, and the outdoors—wrapped around you, grounding you in the moment.

The two of you moved together, the rhythm of the song dictating the slow, deliberate steps. Tyler’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, his thumb brushing against the hem of your shirt where it met your skin. His other hand rested lightly on your back, keeping you pressed against him.

But there was something in the way he held you tonight—something different. His movements were just a little firmer, his grip a little more possessive. You felt it in the tension radiating from him, in the way his eyes stayed locked on yours.

“You’re tense,” you teased, tilting your head to study him.

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice a little too even, his expression unreadable.

Your lips quirked into a small smile. “You sure? Because you’ve been glaring at the bar like it owes you money.”

That earned a soft huff of laughter from him, but he didn’t deny it. Instead, his gaze flicked past you, just for a moment. Curious, you glanced over your shoulder and spotted the storm chaser from earlier still lingering at the bar, his eyes darting toward you and Tyler on the dance floor. When you turned back to Tyler, his jaw was tight again, his green eyes darker than usual.

“Oh my God,” you said, the realization dawning. A grin spread across your face. “You’re jealous.”

His lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. “No, I’m not.”

“You so are,” you teased, leaning in just a little closer. “You’ve been staring him down ever since I got back.”

Tyler’s hand on your waist slid a fraction higher, pulling you tighter against him. His voice dropped, low and rough. “I’m not the jealous type,” he said, his eyes locking on yours, “but what’s mine is mine. And I didn’t like how he was looking at what’s mine.”

Your breath caught at the intensity in his tone, but you weren’t about to let him off the hook so easily. “What’s yours?” you asked, your voice light but laced with challenge. "Not sure I know what you mean."

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, his hand slid up your back, his other hand combing up and his thumb brushing along your jawline. The touch was intimate, deliberate. “You know exactly what I mean,” he murmured, his voice just loud enough for you to hear.

You smiled, though your heart was pounding. “Do I? Because last I checked, there’s no label on this... whatever this is. We’re just keeping things casual, remember?”

His eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of amusement breaking through his tension. “You’re pushing your luck.”

“Am I?” you countered, tilting your head as if to test him. “Because I’m thinking maybe I’ll let him buy me my next drink. He seemed nice. Even offered to let me ride with him if I want.”

Tyler’s grip on you tightened, his jaw clenching visibly. “You better watch that mouth of yours,” he warned, his voice low and steady, “before it gets you into trouble.”

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face. Leaning in closer, you let your hand rest on his chest, your fingers brushing over the soft fabric of his flannel. The touch was casual enough to appear innocent, but the way his eyes darkened told you he didn’t take it that way.

“What kind of trouble?” you asked softly, your voice teasing but edged with genuine curiosity.

Tyler’s lips twitched into a small, almost dangerous smile. He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “If you keep running that little mouth of yours,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, “I’m gonna take you against the nearest surface I can find. And trust me, darlin’, I’ll make sure everyone—including him—knows exactly who you belong to. So unless you want us both taking a ride for indecent exposure tonight, I'd suggest you knock it off.”

A shiver ran down your spine, his words leaving you momentarily speechless. Before you could recover, the song shifted, transitioning into a faster tempo. Tyler pulled back, the satisfied glint in his eyes unmistakable as he saw the look on your face.

He grinned, spinning you out in a smooth twirl under his arm before pulling you back against him. His confidence was infuriatingly attractive, and you couldn’t help but smile despite yourself.

And then, without warning, he dipped you low, his hand steady at your back as he leaned in and kissed you. The kiss was firm and unapologetic, a silent claim that left no room for doubt to anyone looking.

When he pulled back, his hand still cradling your back, you blinked up at him, your breath uneven. His gaze softened slightly, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

“So,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less firm. “Are you done being a brat, or do I need to make things even more official?”

You laughed softly, your hand sliding up to the back of his neck. “I don’t know,” you teased, still catching your breath. “I kind of like seeing you jealous.”

Tyler’s hand stayed firmly on your back as he guided you off the dance floor, weaving through the clusters of people. You were still reeling from the kiss—your lips tingling, your heart racing. His confidence had left you breathless, but there was also something grounding about his presence, his solid grip on you as though letting go wasn’t an option.

As you reached your table at the edge of the bar, Tyler pulled you into a quieter corner where the music softened to background noise. His hand lingered on your waist, his thumb brushing idly over your hip as if staking his claim.

“Subtle,” you teased, leaning against the wall. “You think that was enough for him to get the message?”

Tyler’s lips twitched into a small smirk, his green eyes glittering with amusement. “Don't care. I wasn’t doing it for him,” he said, his tone low and deliberate.

For a moment, you forgot the noise of the bar, the crowd, and even the guy who had been flirting with you earlier. All you could focus on was Tyler—his steady gaze, the way his hand still rested on your hip, and the unspoken promise in the way he stood so close to you.

“So, what was that all about then?” you asked, tilting your head, your voice softer now.

Tyler leaned in slightly, his free hand bracing against the wall beside your head. The proximity was intoxicating, his warmth seeping into your skin.

“I told you,” he murmured. “What’s mine is mine. I don’t care who knows it.”

Your heart did a little flip at his words, but you weren’t ready to let him off the hook just yet. “But we're still not official, though,” you pointed out, your tone teasing.

Tyler exhaled a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You really don’t let up, do you?”

“Not when I want something,” you shot back, your eyes glinting with challenge.

Tyler pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his hand resting on the side of your face as he caressed your jaw. “You want official? Fine,” he said, his lips curling into a smirk, but his eyes held something more—something tender.

Tyler leaned in, his forehead brushing yours as he lowered his voice to a near whisper. “Call me whatever you want—boyfriend, lover, or just Tyler—but as long as you call me yours, that’s all I care about.” His thumb traced the line of your lips, and the weight of his words settled around you like a promise.

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours again, fierce and tender all at once. He kissed you slowly, his mouth lingering over yours, as if sealing the words he’d just spoken with a kiss that spoke louder than anything else. His hand cradled your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes.

Tyler’s lips pulled away from yours, but his forehead stayed pressed against yours as he looked into your eyes, that mischievous spark returning to his gaze. He traced his thumb gently over your cheek, as though savoring the moment.

“So,” he said, a teasing smirk curling at the corner of his mouth, “was that official enough for you, or are you gonna make me actually say it?”

You tilted your head, matching his grin, letting your fingers lightly graze the back of his neck as you gave him a playful challenge. “I think I kind of want to hear you say it,” you teased, your voice soft but laced with amusement.

Tyler sighed dramatically, his eyes rolling with mock exasperation, but it was clear he was enjoying this little moment just as much as you were. He leaned back slightly, a chuckle escaping him as he gave you a mock-serious look.

“Darlin’,” he began, his voice dripping with affection and a touch of humor. “Will you please be my girlfriend?”

You burst into laughter, the sound light and carefree, as Tyler grinned at you, clearly pleased with himself. His hands found your waist again, pulling you closer as his lips quirked upward.

“See?” he teased, his hands sliding down to rest on your hips. “I sounded ridiculous, didn't I?”

You smiled up at him, feeling the warmth of the moment settle in. "I don't know...I kind of liked it,” you replied, a hint of sweetness in your voice. “Thank you. I know you probably think it was stupid, but it was nice to hear.”

Tyler leaned in, brushing his lips over your forehead in a soft, affectionate kiss. “Darlin', I'll do whatever makes you happy. If that means saying it, then I'm happy to do it,” he murmured, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you closer again.

Your chest tightened at the honesty in his tone, and for a moment, all the teasing and banter fell away. This was real—so much more real than you’d expected it to be when the two of you started this quiet, undefined thing.

The moment hung between you, charged and intimate, until the sound of laughter from your team broke the spell. You glanced over Tyler’s shoulder to see Dani and Boone watching you from the pool table, their expressions ranging from amused to downright smug.

“Looks like the cat’s out of the bag,” you said, your lips quirking into a small smile.

Tyler turned to follow your gaze, his hand dropping back to your waist. “Good,” he said simply. Then, louder, so the rest of the team could hear, he added, “Yeah, we’re together. Anyone got a problem with that?”

The table erupted into laughter and a chorus of good-natured teasing, but no one seemed surprised. Dani shot you a knowing look, and Boone raised his beer in a mock toast.

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly as you turned back to Tyler. “You're as subtle as a freight train,” you teased.

He grinned, leaning down to brush a kiss against your temple. “You love it,” he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

And he was right—you did.

As the night eased into a comfortable rhythm, the initial teasing about you and Tyler began to fade—well, mostly. The team had always been a tight-knit group, and now that the two of you were officially “out,” it seemed like fair game for them to poke fun.

Dani was the first to pounce, sidling up to your table after winning yet another round of pool. She leaned her cue against the wall and smirked. “So, is this why you always rode shotgun with Tyler on every drive?” she asked, waggling her eyebrows.

Boone joined in, raising his beer. “Oh, I get it now. ‘I’ll navigate.’ ‘I’m the best with maps.’ Sure, that’s why,” he said, making exaggerated air quotes.

Your face burned, but you couldn’t help laughing. “I am good with maps,” you said defensively, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

Dexter, usually the quiet one, chimed in with a rare grin. “Guess that explains all the ‘extra stops’ you two needed on those long drives. Thought it was weird how often you needed coffee breaks.”

You groaned, hiding your face behind your hands. “Oh my god, you guys are impossible.”

Tyler, on the other hand, was taking it all in stride. He leaned back in his chair, his arm draped casually around your shoulders, the very picture of smug confidence. “Jealousy’s a bad look on y’all,” he said, his lips twitching into a smirk.

Dani rolled her eyes. “Please. We’re not jealous. Just annoyed it took you this long to admit what we all already knew.”

Boone nodded in agreement. “Seriously, the way you two looked at each other—like a damn Nicholas Sparks movie. We were just waiting for the dramatic kiss in the rain.”

Tyler grinned, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm. “What can I say? I like to keep things interesting.”

You shot him a look, though you couldn’t hide your own smile. “Interesting is one word for it,” you muttered, leaning into his side despite yourself.

As the team’s attention shifted back to their game, you stole a moment to glance up at Tyler. His green eyes met yours, and for a second, the noise of the bar faded away. He gave you a small, almost private smile, the kind that made your heart skip a beat.

When it was finally time to call it a night, the group began gathering their things. Dani slung her bag over her shoulder and paused by the door, looking back at the two of you with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Hey, lovebirds,” she called out, her voice carrying over the music. “Try to keep it down tonight, okay? Some of us would like to actually get some sleep for once.”

Your cheeks went bright red as the rest of the team burst into laughter. “Dani!” you protested, your voice high with embarrassment as you hid your face in Tyler’s shoulder.

Tyler, however, was completely unfazed. In fact, he looked downright pleased with himself. He tightened his arm around you, giving the group a lazy grin. “No promises,” he said, his tone teasing but dripping with that cocky charm you both loved and hated.

The laughter grew louder as you groaned again, playfully smacking his chest. With his arm still wrapped around you, Tyler guided you out of the bar, his hand resting securely on your hip as you stepped into the cool night air. The laughter and teasing from your teammates still echoed in your ears, but you couldn’t stop smiling.

“Think they’ll ever let us live this down?” you asked, glancing up at him.

Tyler chuckled, his eyes sparkling in the dim light. “Not a chance,” he said, pulling you closer. “But as long as I’ve got you, I don’t really care.”

You smiled, resting your head against his shoulder as the two of you walked toward his truck.

The drive back to the motel was quiet, save for the hum of the engine and the occasional murmur of a country station playing on the radio. Tyler had one hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily on your knee, his thumb idly brushing over the fabric of your jeans. Every so often, he’d glance over at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth like he couldn’t help himself.

But your mind was racing, and as much as you wanted to let yourself get lost in the warmth of his touch, you couldn’t shake the doubt creeping in. Was what happened back at the bar real, or was it just Tyler getting caught up in the moment?

When you pulled into the motel parking lot, the tension was still simmering beneath your skin. Tyler parked the truck, turned off the engine, and hopped out, coming around to open your door like he always did. You followed him up the stairs to your room, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back.

The second the door clicked shut behind you, you turned to face him. “So…” you started, your voice careful, testing the waters.

Tyler paused, halfway through pulling his flannel shirt off. He tilted his head at you, a playful smirk teasing his lips. “So?” he repeated, his tone light.

You crossed your arms, shifting on your feet. “What happened back there… at the bar,” you said, avoiding his gaze. “Was that real? Or are you gonna wake up tomorrow and tell the team it was all some big joke? Just you messing around for some laughs?”

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, you regretted saying anything. But then Tyler stepped closer, his flannel discarded on the back of a chair, leaving him in just his plain white t-shirt that clung to his frame in all the right ways.

“Darlin’,” he said softly, his voice steady, “do I look like I’m joking to you?”

You glanced up at him, searching his face for any hint of hesitation. But all you saw was certainty.

“I meant every word I said tonight,” Tyler continued, his hands sliding to your waist, pulling you a step closer. “You’re mine. And I don’t care who knows it.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the intensity in his voice. “But… you said we needed to keep things low-key,” you reminded him, though your voice wavered.

“That was before,” he said simply, his thumb brushing along your side. “Before I realized how much I hated watchin’ someone else try to take what’s mine.”

The possessiveness in his voice sent a thrill down your spine, but it was the tenderness in his eyes that made you melt.

“Tyler…” you whispered, but whatever you were going to say next was lost as he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle.

It started slow, deliberate, like he was savoring the moment. But as you kissed him back, threading your fingers through his hair, it deepened, his grip on your waist tightening as if he couldn’t get close enough.

Tyler walked you backward until your legs hit the edge of the bed. His hands were everywhere—your waist, your hips, the curve of your jaw—each touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. When he finally pulled back, his breathing was heavy, his forehead resting against yours.

“Does that feel like I’m jokin’?” he murmured, his voice rough and low.

You shook your head, your fingers still tangled in his hair. “No,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his.

He grinned, that familiar cocky charm flashing through for just a second. “Good,” he said, leaning down to kiss you again.

The kiss deepened as Tyler pressed you back onto the bed, his hands trailing down your sides with a possessiveness that sent shivers through you. His touch wasn’t rushed—no, Tyler Owens was deliberate, savoring every moment as though he had all the time in the world to prove his point.

When he pulled back, his lips were swollen, his hair slightly mussed from your fingers. The sight of him like this—raw, unguarded—made your heart race. He sat back on his knees, his hands moving to the hem of your shirt. He tugged it up and then peeled it up over your head, tossing it aside carelessly. His hands roamed your bare skin, his touch warm and grounding, but his eyes were what made you feel like you were the only person in the world.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice roughened by desire. His thumb traced along the edge of your bra, just barely brushing your skin. “All mine.”

His words sent heat coursing through you, and you couldn’t help but arch into his touch. Tyler leaned down, his lips brushing the column of your throat.

“Every inch of you,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin, “belongs to me.”

He kissed his way down, his lips teasing, his hands skillfully finding the clasp of your bra and unhooking it with ease. As he slid the straps from your shoulders, his gaze was reverent, almost awed.

“My girl,” he said, his voice low. His hands moved to your waist again, hooking into the band of your jeans.

As the cool air hit your skin, you bit your lip, trying to stifle the sound that threatened to escape. Tyler noticed immediately, his sharp gaze flicking up to meet yours. His head tilted slightly, and his lips curled into a smirk that sent a wave of both heat and embarrassment through you.

“None of that,” he said, his voice firm but teasing. His thumb brushed your bottom lip, coaxing it free from your teeth. “They all know now, sweetheart. No need to hide.”

Your eyes widened, and you gave him a look that was part incredulous, part exasperated. “Tyler, we can’t …what if we get a noise complaint!”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich as his hands slid down to rest on your hips, his thumbs tracing slow, maddening circles.

“I don’t care about a noise complaint,” he said, leaning down until his lips were barely an inch from yours. “The team knows. Hell, everyone at the bar knows. But now…” His smirk widened, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. “Now it’s time every chaser in this motel knows who you belong to.”

“Tyler,” you started, but before you could get another word out, his mouth was on yours again, silencing your protest. His kiss was commanding, his hands sliding over your body in a way that left no room for doubt about his intentions. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes blazing with something primal.

“Now,” he said, his hand moving to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your flushed skin. “Who do you belong to?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but before you could, he shifted, his lips finding that sensitive spot just below your ear. His tongue flicked against your skin, and the combination of his touch and his words sent a bolt of pleasure straight through you.

“Tyler,” you moaned, his name spilling from your lips before you could stop yourself.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, that infuriatingly smug smirk firmly in place. “That’s right, baby,” he said, his voice like a low growl. “Say it again.”

You glared at him, your face heating with both embarrassment and arousal, but the challenge in his eyes only spurred you on. “You,” you said breathlessly, your voice trembling with need. “I belong to you.”

His grin softened slightly, turning into something warmer, something that made your chest ache. He leaned down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips, and when he pulled back, his hand slid to the small of your back, holding you close.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, and the possessiveness in his voice was tempered by an unmistakable tenderness.

As he kissed you again, deeper this time, your earlier doubts and insecurities melted away. Tyler wasn’t just claiming you—he was showing you, in every touch and every word, that he meant it.

Tyler’s hands moved over your body with a slow reverence, his touch igniting sparks wherever his fingertips lingered. The playful smirk that had been on his face earlier softened into something else—something deeper. His eyes locked on yours, his gaze steady and intense as if he wanted to commit every detail of this moment to memory.

He finished undressing you as he slid your panties agonizingly slow down your legs, letting them fall away as his hands brushed your hips. The air felt charged like you were both standing on the edge of something bigger than either of you could name.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice husky but carrying a weight of sincerity that made your chest tighten.

Your hand found its way to his face, fingers brushing the sharp line of his jaw. “Tyler…” you whispered, but you couldn’t find the words to finish. The look in his eyes—unwavering and full of something unspoken—was undoing you.

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then your temple, and then the tip of your nose. Each kiss felt like a promise, slow and deliberate. His hands framed your face as he kissed you fully again, his lips moving against yours with a tenderness that took your breath away.

He shifted, guiding your body beneath his as he shed the last of his clothing, his movements unhurried but purposeful. The heat of his skin against yours was electric, but it was the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing in the world that mattered—that had your heart pounding.

Tyler paused for a moment, his weight braced above you, his forehead resting against yours. His hand brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his thumb grazing your cheek. 

“I need you to know,” he said, his voice low but steady. “This isn’t just…” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “This isn’t just about wanting to fuck you. It’s more than that.”

Your breath hitched at his words, the raw vulnerability in them wrapping around you like a protective cocoon. You reached up, your hand tangling in his hair as you pulled him down into a kiss, your lips conveying everything you couldn’t put into words.

When he finally started to push inside you, the moment felt like time had stopped. His movements were slow, measured, as if he were afraid of rushing it. This wasn’t like the other times you’d been with Tyler before. Every time before had felt like it was just physical. Practically ripping clothes off of each other and hot and heated kisses him getting inside of you as fast as he could.

But this time…this time his touches were just a little softer. His kisses were just a little deeper. And the way he was holding you, like he was cherishing you made you swoon.

As he moved with you, his hands roamed your body. He murmured your name like a prayer, each syllable dripping with affection. And when your hand gripped his shoulder, your nails digging slightly into his skin, he leaned down to kiss you again, his lips lingering as if he couldn’t bear to pull away.

You couldn’t stop the small sounds that escaped your lips, your body responding to his in ways that felt like second nature. But it wasn’t just physical—there was something so much deeper in the way he held you, the way his hand laced with yours, fingers intertwining as though he needed to feel connected to every part of you.

It wasn’t long before the tension building between you both crested, your body trembling in his arms as your climax washed over you. Tyler held you close, whispering soothing words in your ear. When he followed moments later, his face buried in the crook of your neck, the quiet groan that escaped his lips sent another shiver down your spine.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, your breathing the only sound in the room. Tyler finally shifted, rolling to his side but pulling you with him so that you stayed nestled against his chest. His arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly as though letting go was not an option.

He pressed a kiss to your hair, his lips lingering there as he murmured, “I meant it, you know. You’re mine.”

You looked up at him, your hand resting against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “And you’re mine,” you said softly, the words feeling like a vow.

His lips curved into a soft smile, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your back. “Damn right, I am.”

As you lay there, tangled together in the quiet aftermath, the weight of the moment settled over you. This wasn’t just another night, another stolen moment of passion. This was the start of something new—something real.

And as Tyler held you close, his breathing evening out as sleep began to claim him, you couldn’t help but think that for the first time in a long time, everything felt exactly as it should.

[bookished]

💵 nsfw sugar daddy!sung jinwoo headcanons

dom!jinwoo | rich, cold, dangerous | possessive & obsessive | treats you like a princess, fucks you like a problem | obsession kink | power/control | mean + praise mix | overstimulation | restraint | ruined & marked

He’s quiet, mysterious, and terrifyingly powerful, and somehow, you’re the only one who makes him soften.

Everyone thinks you’re his spoiled little arm candy.

They have no idea what he turns into when the door shuts.

“Buy it. All of it.” You mention liking a dress? The next day, the entire line is hanging in your walk-in closet — tags still on.

Custom lingerie sets, just for his eyes. He chooses what you wear under your clothes. Always black. Always lace. Always ends up torn.

He pays your rent just because he can. But makes you come over every weekend and “earn it” in ways that leave your legs shaking and your voice gone.

His black card? You don’t touch it. He personally hands the cashier his card while keeping his hand possessively low on your back.

Text messages like: “Be ready by 7. No panties.” “Sit on my lap and act innocent while I finish this meeting.” “You don’t need to check your balance, baby. You have me.”

Buckle in, baby. Because when Jinwoo snaps — he doesn't just ruin your body, he owns it.

You wear a new dress he didn’t buy you? He cuts it off you. Quietly. Deliberately. Knife trailing your skin. "You don’t wear what I don’t approve."

He doesn’t like being disobeyed — even subtly. Flirted with the waiter? Wore lip gloss he didn't pick? He bends you over the bed and makes you say you're sorry with his cock still inside you.

He always finishes inside. Always. “You’re mine. Mine to fill, mine to keep. I don’t care if it leaks out. You’ll walk out dripping for me.”

He ties your wrists with his silk ties — not to restrain you, but to remind you: you don’t get to touch him unless he says so.

Takes his time ruining you. One orgasm? Not enough. He’ll keep your legs spread, vibrator locked between your thighs, and whisper in your ear: “C’mon, cry for me. You wanted to be spoiled, didn’t you? Then take it.”

Will blindfold you and let you beg — for his fingers, his cock, his permission. And he’ll just watch. Smirk. Let you fall apart with nothing but his voice. “Say please, and mean it.”

Soft voice. Hard words. He’ll call you sweetheart while breaking you open with every thrust. “What’s the matter? Can’t take Daddy’s cock now? Thought you were a spoiled little brat, remember?”

Humiliating praise kink. “Look at you. All fucked out and drooling. You were so confident earlier. Now you’re just a shaking mess on my cock.”

Growls in your ear while he’s fucking you face-down. “Don’t you dare run from me. You wanted this.”

Makes you wear a diamond choker with a lock on it after sex. “So everyone knows you’re owned. You’re not leaving this penthouse unless I see that around your neck.”

Strokes your hair while you cry from overstimulation, voice soft but smug: “That’s it. That’s my perfect girl. So good for me. So full, so fucked, so mine.”

If you pass out after too many rounds? He kisses your forehead, carries you to the bath, and whispers, “No one else will ever get you like this. You understand that?”

[acklesarchives]

Miss possessive - Dean W

Dean x female!Reader

Seeing a girl flirt with Dean at a bar is insulting. You can only take enough of watching it before going over and dragging to the backseat of the impala.

Content warnings ; smut, sex in the impala, slight handjob, unprotected sex (don’t follow their example queens), eating out, lowkey sub!dean

Word count ; 1,901

Minors PLEASE do not interact!!

The bar is buzzing with low conversations, clinking glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter. You and Dean are tucked into a booth with Sam, unwinding after a long hunt. Everything is fine—until she shows up.

She’s pretty, you’ll give her that. Blonde hair, easy smile, and confidence radiating off of her as she leans against the bar right next to Dean. The first time she touches his arm, you tell yourself to let it go. The second time, when she giggles at something he says—something that wasn’t even that funny—your grip tightens around your glass.

Dean, oblivious as ever, just smirks, giving her that stupid, charming grin you know way too well.

You can’t hear everything over the music, but you don’t need to. You see the way she presses just a little too close, the way her hand lingers on his forearm, nails tracing the edge of his sleeve. She wants him, and what’s worse? She doesn’t even care that you’re sitting right there.

“Be right back,” you mutter to Sam, sliding out of the booth before he can stop you.

You don’t hesitate. You stride over, slipping right between Dean and the girl with a too-sweet smile. You place a firm hand on his chest, pushing him back slightly before wrapping your other arm around his waist.

“Hey, honey,” you purr, eyes locking onto his. “You were gone too long.”

Dean raises an eyebrow, but the second he registers the sharpness in your gaze, the tension in your grip, the way your body is pressed flush against his—oh, he gets it.

His lips twitch, amusement flickering in his expression. “Was I?”

You don’t give him a chance to say anything else before pulling him down into a kiss—one that isn’t just for show. It’s deep, possessive, a clear statement for everyone watching. Your fingers tangle in the fabric of his jacket, making damn sure he feels just how much he belongs to you.

When you finally pull away, Dean looks dazed for a second before a slow, lazy smirk spreads across his lips. “Damn,” he murmurs. “What was that for?”

You don’t answer him. Instead, you turn your gaze to the blonde, who’s now looking anywhere but at you. “Sorry,” you say with a saccharine smile. “Were you saying something?”

She stammers out an excuse before grabbing her drink and retreating fast. You watch her go, satisfaction thrumming in your chest.

Dean chuckles, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Jealous, sweetheart?”

You huff, tugging him closer by the belt loops. “You’re mine, Winchester.”

Dean leans in, voice dropping to something rough and teasing. “Yeah? Maybe you should remind me.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

Dean barely has time to react before you’re gripping his jacket, pulling him toward the door. He doesn’t resist—not even a little. In fact, he chuckles under his breath, like he’s enjoying this way too much.

“Damn, sweetheart,” he murmurs as you push open the bar door and step into the cool night air. “Didn’t know you liked an audience.”

You don’t dignify that with a response. Instead, you march straight to the Impala, yanking the back door open before shoving him inside. Dean lands on the leather with a grunt, looking up at you with a mix of amusement and something darker, something needy.

You climb in after him, slamming the door shut. The second you’re alone, you straddle his lap, gripping his jaw and making him look at you. His hands settle on your waist, firm and warm, but you don’t give him the chance to take control.

“Mine,” you breathe, dragging your fingers through his hair. “Say it.”

Dean swallows, his smirk faltering for just a second before his voice drops, rough and sure. “Yours.”

That’s all you need. You crash your lips against his, pouring every bit of jealousy, every ounce of possession, into the kiss. It’s all-consuming, heat coiling between you as Dean groans into your mouth, hands sliding under your jacket, gripping tight like he never wants to let go.

“You get off on this, don’t you?” he murmurs between kisses, voice teasing but breathless.

“Shut up.” You tug at his collar, exposing the line of his throat, and nip at the skin there, hard enough to leave a mark.

Dean lets out a low, pleased growl, fingers digging into your hips. “That’s my girl.”

Damn right, you are.

And before the night is over, he won’t have any doubt about who he belongs to.

You grind down against him, a low, breathy gasp escaping your lips as you feel the pressure of him beneath you. The backseat of the Impala feels too small for the heat building between you, but you don’t care. You can’t—because all that matters right now is him, and the way you can’t stop wanting him.

Dean’s hands are everywhere, sliding under your shirt, pulling at your clothes as he pulls you even closer, his chest rising and falling beneath you with each breath. He groans at the friction, his grip tightening around your waist, fingers digging into the soft curve of your hips. The heat between you is suffocating, but it only makes you press closer, matching your movements with his.

“Damn, sweetheart,” he mutters, his voice ragged, a low growl beneath the words. “You want me this bad, huh?”

You smirk against his neck, dragging your lips along his jawline, sucking softly at the sensitive skin just beneath his ear. “I always want you, Dean,” you whisper, grinding down against him again, slow and deliberate this time, drawing out the sensation.

His breath hitches, and you feel the way his pulse quickens under your fingertips. But still, he doesn’t take control. Not yet. Not until you’ve had your fill of him. His hands slip under your shirt, skin on skin, sending shivers down your spine as he pulls you in deeper, closer.

“Say it,” you breathe, your hands trailing down his chest, fingers brushing against the waistband of his jeans before pulling them and his underwear down and off him. “Say you want me, Dean.”

For a second, he hesitates, but only for a second. Then, with a rough exhale, he grabs your face, pulling you close. “I want you,” he growls, eyes locked on yours with a fire you know all too well. “I fucking want you, I’m yours,

And that’s all it takes. You slide your hands up his chest, and you’re moving against him, slow at first. Teasing. The tension thickens, your pulse thrumming as you feel the heat between you rise, every inch of him pressing against you.

You can feel the way he’s holding back—holding onto whatever little self-control he has left. But you won’t let him. Not now. You’re the one in control, and you’re going to make sure he knows it. You push him back against the leather seat, leaning down to kiss him, all fire, all heat.

Dean’s hands slide to your hips, but this time, he’s not guiding you. He’s holding on, letting you set the pace, watching you with that look in his eyes—the same one he always gets when he’s completely lost in you. His thumb brushes against your skin, tracing patterns that make your heart race.

“You’re mine,” you breathe, your voice barely a whisper as you pull back to look at him. “And don’t you forget it.”

Dean’s chest heaves beneath you, his hands tightening on your hips, pulling you down closer. He’s losing it, but he’s still trying to hold on, still trying to give you what you want—but you won’t let him.

You press down, and he gasps, his hands gripping the seat beneath him as his eyes squeeze shut. “God,” he growls, his voice low, guttural. “You’re driving me fucking crazy.”

You lean down, your lips brushing against his ear. “You like it,” you murmur, fingers moving to his aching cock.

Dean’s breath catches. “Fuck, yeah,” he groans, his hands finally snapping to your back, pressing you even harder against him, thrusting up into your hands even more, the friction too much to ignore.

You kiss him harder, every movement slow and deliberate. You move against him, your body sinking down on him just a little bit more each time, every inch of him filling you, stretching you in the best way possible, while you continue ti lazily stroke his base.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Dean mutters, his voice shaking as you start to move faster, pulling him in, making him feel every inch of your need. His hands are now on your back, guiding you, but it’s not enough for you. You want to be closer, deeper.

“I want you so badly,” you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you press down against him again, feeling the way his grip tightens on you, pulling you down harder.

Dean’s hand grip your hips harder, hid other hand going to the one on his cock yo grab ahold of and hold down on his chest. His control snapping as he slams up into you, a sound between a growl and a moan escaping his lips. You match his rhythm, desperate, frantic, the heat of him almost overwhelming.

He’s possessing you now, every thrust bringing him deeper, harder, until the world falls away, and it’s just the two of you, tangled in a whirlwind of heat and desire. His name falls from your lips in a desperate whisper, and that’s when everything snaps—when the tension reaches its peak, and you both break together.

You collapse against him, breathless and shaking, but he doesn’t let you go. His hands are still on you, pulling you close, his lips brushing against your forehead as you both try to catch your breath.

He helps you off of him, the way both of your fluids spill out of you back into deans skin is like a watching a waterfall. He taps your back, signaling you to move up him, which you do after a few more seconds of catching your breath.

With you hovering over his face, he had the perfect view of you, your glistening cunt from both of your come. He waisted no time, pulling you down by your hips onto his mouth groaning into you.

“Of fuck Dean, just like that, yes!” You moan out dropping your head behind you squeezing your eyes shut as you can feel his tongue swiping up through your leaking folds.

He groans into you, the vibrations coursing through your body drawing you closer to your second orgasm. You move your hips against his mouth, the feeling too good not to.

All you could get out was broken moans mixed in with barely there yelps of his name.

Once you come again, Dean works your way through it continuing to drag his tongue through you until he made sure you were clean of come

Once getting off and falling back onto his chest once again Dean’s chest rose and fell beneath you as he holds you close, the scent of leather and sweat surrounding you both. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice raw.

The moment is broken a few moments later though with a knock in the widow, jolting both of you up, dean making sure to cover you.

“Guys seriously? This is a shared car.” You hear sam scoff, before retreating back into the shared bar.

Liz talks : all I’ve been doing my entire spring break has been writing and working LMAO so two posts in two days, I hope yall like this fun little dean smut, inspired by miss possessive by Tate McRae. I also came to the conclusion that I CAN write smut I just can’t write smut dialogue so! Whatevs! I will not be looking at it after this out of sight out of mind! Let me know what yall think any kind of interaction is great <3

Tags : @deansbbyx , @deanswidow , @nymphet-quenn , @multiversefanfics , @star-maker-rain-dancer , @sunsbaby , @starzify , @bluemerakis , @aambearr , @blossomingorchids , @littlesoulshine , @daylighted , @wchswift , @emeraldcrs , @bossyblondie , @lunaleah , @pieandflannel

To be tagged in any future works of mine please check out this post !!

[thirteenheavens]

Can you do Seungcheol x virgin reader?

Notes: I had so many requests for this one so here you go 🤭

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.

Seungcheol was always protective of you, and the thought of taking your virginity made him feel even more possessive. He wanted to make sure that your first time was special and that you felt safe with him. As you laid on the bed together, he looked at you with a mixture of love and desire. "Are you sure you're ready for this?" he asked, his voice gentle.

You nodded, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement. "I'm ready," you said softly. "I want it to be with you." Seungcheol smiled at your words, his heart swelling with love for you. He leaned down and kissed you deeply, his hands roaming your body as he tried to calm your nerves.

"I'll be gentle," he promised, his lips moving to your neck. "And I'll make sure you feel good." Seungcheol continued to kiss and touch you, his hands slowly exploring your body. He took his time, wanting to make sure that you were comfortable and relaxed before he took things further. He pushed your legs apart, settling between them as he looked down at you. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, his eyes dark with desire. "I love you so much."

You blushed at his words, feeling a flutter in your stomach. Seungcheol leaned down and kissed you again, his lips moving down your body until he reached your chest. He took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and nibbling gently as his hand came up to play with the other. You let out a soft moan, arching your back into his touch.

As Seungcheol continued to tease your nipples, he slowly began to push inside you. He could feel how tight you were, and he took his time, making sure to go slow and give you time to adjust. He looked up at you, watching your face for any signs of discomfort. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice strained. "Tell me if it hurts."

You nodded, biting your lip as you felt a slight discomfort. "I'm okay," you said, your voice a little shaky. "Just keep going." Seungcheol continued to push in, his eyes never leaving your face. He was so focused on making sure you were comfortable that he didn't even notice the way his own breath was coming out in short gasps.

"You're doing so well," he praised, his hips finally coming to a stop as he bottomed out inside you. "You feel amazing." You let out a soft moan, adjusting to the feeling of having him inside you. It was a strange sensation, but it also felt good. Seungcheol stayed still for a moment, giving you time to get used to it.

"You're so tight," he groaned, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "You're going to drive me crazy."

"Please...move," you whispered, looking up at Seungcheol with need in your eyes. Seungcheol's eyes darkened at your request, and he slowly began to move his hips, pulling out of you slightly before thrusting back in. He started off slow, but soon picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming more urgent as he chased his own pleasure.

"You're taking me so well," he panted, his forehead pressed against yours. "You're such a good girl." Your moans grew louder as Seungcheol's pace quickened, his hips snapping against yours with every thrust. He loved the sounds you were making, loved knowing that he was the one making you feel this way.

"That's it," he grunted, his hands moving up to pin your wrists above your head. "Let me hear you. Let everyone know who's making you feel good." You cried out as he pinned your wrists down, the feeling of helplessness only adding to your pleasure. Seungcheol was being rougher now, his grip on your wrists tight as he pounded into you.

"You're mine," he growled, his lips finding your neck again. "No one else can have you. You're mine to take and claim." You were lost in a haze of pleasure, unable to form coherent thoughts as Seungcheol continued to take you. He was relentless, his hips moving in a steady rhythm as he chased his own release.

"I'm close," he warned, his breath hot against your skin. "I'm going to fill you up and make you mine forever." Seungcheol groaned as he felt himself getting closer to the edge, his words becoming more vulgar. "Such a pretty little virgin pussy," he muttered, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "And it's all mine now." You could feel yourself getting closer to your own orgasm, the pleasure building up inside you like a wave about to crash. Seungcheol could tell that you were close too, and he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

"Cum for me, baby," he commanded. "Cum on my cock like a good girl." His words pushed you over the edge, and you cried out as you came hard, your body trembling beneath him. Seungcheol wasn't far behind, and with a few more deep thrusts, he spilled himself inside you, his body going tense as he rode out his own orgasm. He collapsed on top of you, panting heavily as he tried to catch his breath. "You did so well," he praised, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You're perfect."

Seungcheol slowly pulled out of you, careful not to hurt you. He took a moment to catch his breath before disposing of the condom in the trash can next to the bed. He then turned his attention back to you, his eyes softening as he saw the state you were in. You looked wrecked, your hair messy and your body covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle as he pulled you into his arms. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" You snuggled against his chest, feeling a mix of exhaustion and contentment. "I'm okay," you assured him, your voice a little hoarse. "That was...intense." Seungcheol chuckled and kissed the top of your head. "Yeah, it was," he agreed. "But you took it so well. I'm proud of you."

[huntfeld]

A Jealous Heart in The Neon Glow

Pairing: Jinx x Reader

Summary: In the neon-lit chaos of Zaun, Jinx grapples with her growing jealousy as the reader's bond with Ekko stirs possessive feelings she can no longer suppress.

———

The dim glow of Zaun's neon lights filtered into the small hideout, casting the room in a flickering array of pinks and blues. You sat cross-legged on the couch, a makeshift workbench cluttered with mechanical scraps sprawled out before you. Jinx was perched on the armrest, twirling a wrench in her fingers like a baton. Her signature manic grin was nowhere to be found, replaced instead by a peculiar tension that made the air feel heavier than usual.

"So," Jinx began, her voice lilting like a razor sliding across silk. "You and Ekko seem real chummy these days."

You froze mid-tweak on the contraption in your lap, the question catching you off guard. "Uh, yeah. I guess. We've been working together on that glider project for a while now."

Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, the wrench stopping mid-spin. "Oh, glider project. Sounds riveting. Is he, like, your new bestie now or something?"

You set the tool down and glanced at her. The playful edge to her voice was thinly veiled, barely masking something rawer, sharper. You knew Jinx well enough to recognize it: jealousy. It clung to her words like oil to water, a dangerous undercurrent you couldn't ignore.

"Come on, Jinx," you said carefully. "You know it's not like that."

She leaned closer, her face now inches from yours. Her cerulean hair framed her features, the usual mischief in her eyes replaced with something more vulnerable—though she was trying hard to hide it behind a cocky smirk.

"Not like what, exactly?" she asked, her voice dropping to a low murmur. "'Cause from where I’m sitting, looks like you’re getting all buddy-buddy with him, leaving little ol’ me out in the cold."

Before you could respond, a knock at the door interrupted the moment. You glanced over, recognizing Ekko’s voice calling out from the other side. You stood, feeling Jinx’s eyes burning holes into your back as you opened the door.

"Hey," Ekko greeted with a grin, holding a toolbox. "Thought I’d swing by and drop these off for the project."

"Thanks," you said, stepping aside to let him in. The tension in the room shifted palpably as Jinx remained on the armrest, now glaring daggers at Ekko. She didn’t bother hiding her displeasure, the wrench in her hand tapping rhythmically against the leather.

"Hey, Jinx," Ekko said with an easy smile. "What’s up?"

"Oh, y'know," she replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Just watching my best friend here get all cozy with someone else. Super fun."

Ekko raised an eyebrow, his gaze darting between the two of you. "Uh, okay? Didn’t mean to intrude."

"You’re not," you said quickly, shooting Jinx a warning look. "Ignore her. She’s just being… Jinx."

Jinx scoffed, crossing her arms. "Yeah, ignore me. That’s what everyone does anyway, right?"

You sighed, turning back to Ekko. "So, about that glider prototype—"

Before you could finish your sentence, Jinx was suddenly in front of you. Her hands grabbed your collar, yanking you down just enough for her lips to crash against yours. The kiss was anything but delicate—it was desperate, raw, and filled with an intensity that made your knees weak. The world seemed to blur around you, the only thing grounding you being the warmth of her mouth and the tight grip she had on your shirt.

When she finally pulled back, her eyes locked with yours, burning with a mix of defiance and vulnerability. "There. Now you know," she said breathlessly. "You’re mine. Got it?"

You blinked, your heart pounding as you tried to process what had just happened. Unable to help yourself, you smirked and replied, "Yes, ma’am."

Ekko let out an awkward cough from behind you, clearly unsure of where to look.

"Uh, I… should probably go," he mumbled, quickly retreating to the door. "Catch you later."

The door closed, leaving you and Jinx alone in the electrified silence. You stared at her, still feeling the lingering heat of her kiss.

"Jinx," you started, your voice shaky, "what was that?"

She crossed her arms, her bravado faltering as she glanced away. "What do you think it was? I… I can’t stand watching you with him. It’s like… it’s like my chest is gonna explode or something. I hate it."

Your heart ached at the raw honesty in her words. You stepped closer, gently placing a hand on her arm. "Jinx, you don’t have to feel like that. There’s no one else. Just you."

Her eyes snapped back to yours, wide and searching. "You mean that?"

You nodded, your thumb brushing over her wrist. "Yeah. I care about you. A lot. More than anyone."

For a moment, she looked like she might cry, but then her signature grin slowly crept back onto her face. "Well, duh," she said, though her voice cracked slightly. "I mean, who wouldn’t fall for this?"

You laughed softly, pulling her into a hug. She stiffened at first, then melted into your embrace, her arms wrapping tightly around your waist. The faint smell of gunpowder and oil clung to her, mixing with something uniquely hers.

"You’re not getting rid of me now, y’know," she mumbled into your shoulder. "I’ll blow up anyone who tries to take you away."

You pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes, your hand brushing a strand of blue hair from her face. "I wouldn’t want it any other way."

The two of you stayed like that for a while, the neon glow painting your world in shades of pink and blue. For once, the chaos of Zaun felt far away, and all that mattered was the girl in your arms and the unspoken promise of what lay ahead.

———

[cardansriddle]

Dance of Shadow and Desire - Tom Riddle x Fem!Reader

gif not mine

Summary: Once, they were friends—until his ambition turned him into the Dark Lord. Years later, he appears on her doorstep, bleeding and unrepentant, his obsession with her as fierce as his thirst for power. Caught between her lingering feelings and the monster he has become, she must decide between her feelings and letting him go.

warnings: angst with a happy(ish?) ending, dark tom but he's bbg. also older tom but he's not a snake yet dw. 3rd person POV,

A/N: I've always wanted to write something with older tom and this one has been sitting in my drafts for ages. i decided to post it bc why not! lmk what you guys think and if i should write more for older tom! (and before you ask, I'm sorry but not writing a part 2 for this)

༻♛༺

The rain drummed lightly against the windows as she sat in her worn armchair, a steaming cup of tea forgotten on the table beside her. The Daily Prophet lay open on her lap, the bold headline screaming of another attack.

The Dark Lord Strikes Again: Ministry Scrambles to Counter Riddle’s Forces.

Her chest tightened as she read the words, the familiar name sending a chill through her veins.

Riddle. Tom Riddle. And to think he had been her friend once.

She closed her eyes, and despite fighting it, memories reluctantly started to flood back. Late-night study sessions in the Hogwarts library, debates over spells and theories, and the way his sharp mind always seemed a step ahead of everyone else's. He had been ambitious, yes, she knew that, but there had been a charm to him, a warmth she had once believed was genuine.

They had been close, or at least as close as anyone could be to Tom. But as the years passed, she had watched him change. His ambition darkened, his charm became manipulation, and his thirst for power grew insatiable. 

She started heard whispers of his experiments, his fascination with immortality, and the growing fear he inspired in his peers he called friends. She had tried countless times to steer him away from his path, but he had brushed her off with a cold finality she would never forget. She had been helpless as she watched the boy she loved so dearly descend into madness. And thus, by the time they left Hogwarts, the distance between them had become a chasm.

And now, years later, here he was again, not in the flesh but in the headlines of a paper detailing his reign of terror. She folded the Prophet with a trembling hand, her heart heavy with a mix of anger, sadness, and a faint, unwelcome pang of longing for the friend she had lost.

She sighed, tossing the paper aside and wrapping her robe over her nightgown tighter, trying to get rid of the goosebumps on her skin. Though they had little to do with cold, and more to do with what she had just read.

She was startled out of her stupor by knocking on her door. It was urgent, sharp, and completely unexpected. Her eyes glanced at the clock above the fireplace, and her brows furrowed as she wondered who would dare show up unannounced past midnight at her door.

Her fingers immediately clutched the wand she had set at her table, and she stood, beginning to approach the door warily. She debated whether if she should even open the door, considering the hour, yet worried that one of her friends might have gotten in trouble, she twisted the doorknob.

When she opened it, the sight before her made her wonder if she was having a nightmare.

A figure in black stood on her doorstep, his robes soaked and clinging to his tall frame The crimson stains seeped through his clothes, smearing the pale skin of his hands and dripping from a gash across his temple. For a moment, the hood of his cloak obscured his face, but then he raised his head.

Those familiar features, now sharper and more menacing, stared back at her. His face had matured, losing the boyish charm she once knew, replaced by a cold, calculated intensity. But his eyes—those piercing, dark eyes—had not changed. They bore into her with a mix of exhaustion and something darker she dared not name.

She froze as if someone poured a bucket of ice over her head. It was him. She had been reading about him mere minutes ago, the feared Dark Lord whose name terrified the wizarding world, and now he stood at her doorstep as if summoned by her very thoughts.

The storm raged behind him and despite the obvious pain coursing through him due to his wounds, something in his gaze sharpened, his complete focus narrowing to her as though the rain, the blood, and his injuries were inconsequential.

“You…” Her voice faltered, and she tightened her grip on the doorframe. "How...what are you doing here?"

Tom leaned heavily against the doorframe, his hand gripping the edge for support. "Do you plan to let me bleed out on your doorstep?” he asked, his voice even deeper and colder than she remembered.

Swallowing her shock, she blinked a few times to confirm she was not hallucinating. Her gaze roved over his dark hair, plastered against his forehead and disheveled in a way that was so unlike the controlled and immaculate boy she recalled.

"Did you expect me to welcome you with open arms after...everything?" She breathed out incredulously, looking at him with wide eyes, trying, desperately yet vainly to ignore the strings being pulled taut at her heart just at the sight of him before her. “You have no right to be here,” she added, her voice trembling with anger.

His gaze sharpened, the intensity of his focus making her feel as though she was the only person in the world. Despite his injuries, his voice remained calm, unyielding. “I expected you to act with the practicality I know you possess.”

“Reason? You are unbelievable.” She scoffed, crossing her arms tightly. “The reasonable thing would be to turn you away and report you to the Aurors.”

“And yet,” he said, taking a deliberate step closer, though his movements were clearly labored, “you haven’t done that." As soon as the words left his mouth, a cough roughly racked through his chest and he swayed on his feet.

She faltered, her grip tightening on the doorframe. His words stung because they were true. She hated the way he always seemed to know exactly which string to pull. Every instinct screamed at her to shut the door. He was dangerous. He had become something monstrous, far removed from the ambitious boy she once knew at Hogwarts. But the sight of his blood and the faint tremor in his hand stirred something in her. 

The rain continued to pour around them, each drop a reminder of how absurd this situation was. His drooping eyelids were the only warning she got as he almost collapsed, and she flung her arms around his middle to catch him. Despite everything, she found that she could not let him bleed out in front of her eyes. Worse, she still cared about him.

"Do not think for a second this means I’ve forgiven you.” Her voice was tight with resignation as she helped him into her home. He didn’t fully collapse, though he looked like he might. Instead, he moved with deliberate slowness with her help until they reached her large couch by the fireplace.

A ghost of a smile flickered across his lips, even as he winced with pain. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

She made sure he was fully situated before she busied herself fetching a potion and bandages, trying to ignore the weight of his gaze following her every move. She knew whatever had caused him this much harm would not be so simple to fix with mere Wiggenweld potion or basic healing charms.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” she murmured quietly, setting the supplies on the table beside him. “Especially not like this.”

Tom gave a faint, humorless smile. “Life has a way of surprising us.”

She bit back a retort at that, deciding to focus on the task at hand instead. "Show me."

Tom did not need to be instructed twice, as he moved to peel away his robes in order to expose his wounded back. He kept trying to hold in the winces every time he moved, and against her better judgement, she reached to bat his hands away and instead do the job herself. She removed his robes first, putting it away carefully so his blood would not stain her furniture. Then, she began slowly peeling away his shirt that had stuck to his skin after being soaked in his blood for so long. He suppressed a shiver at the feel of her cold fingertips grazing his skin, and she inn turn suppressed her urge to let her eyes wonder over his shirtless form. She had far more important matters in her hand.

The gash across his back was long and bloody. She could immediately tell it was not a wound caused by any weapon, but by dark magic. The edges of it were jagged, charred black which was the first giveaway of its cause. It was deep, angry, and refusing to heal fully even as she muttered counter-curses under her breath.

“This will take time,” she murmured, her voice softer than she intended, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile calm between them.

He didn’t reply, merely tilting his head to allow her better access. She could feel him watching her from the corner of his eye, even as she tried to focus. Her fingers trembled slightly as she pressed a cooling salve into the wound, but she forced herself to steady them.

Once the magic had been neutralized as much as she could manage, she began to wrap a bandage around his torso. His skin was pale, marred by other scars she hadn’t expected to see, each one a testament to the battles he had fought—and most likely won.

Her hands brushed against his sides as she secured the bandage, and she felt his muscles tense beneath her touch. She glanced up instinctively, though she could not see his face fully.

“You’re trembling,” he said, his voice low and almost… gentle.

“I’m not,” she lied, looking away quickly as heat crept into her cheeks.

He let out a faint hum of disbelief but said nothing further.

When she finished wrapping his torso, she moved to settle in front of him so she could focus on the gash on his temple. The blood had dried, crusting around the edges of the wound, and she carefully wiped it clean with a damp cloth. Her fingers brushed his hair back from his face, wet and unruly from the rain, and she noted absently how much longer it had grown since their school days.

He didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away, but he was watching her again—always watching. She could feel the weight of his gaze as she worked, the tension in the air thick enough to choke on.

“Why are you staring at me?” she asked finally, her voice tight.

“Because you’re still the same,” he said quietly, his tone devoid of the usual bite she had come to expect from him.

She paused, her hand hovering above the wound. “And you’re not,” she replied, her words laced with both sadness and bitterness.

He smirked faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “No. I’m not.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The only sounds were the crackle of the fire and the faint patter of rain against the window. When she resumed cleaning the wound, his gaze didn’t waver. If anything, it intensified, as though he were trying to memorize every detail of her face.

“You could have not let me in,” he said suddenly, his voice softer than she had ever heard it.

“Yes, I could have." She replied simply, and wondered if perhaps she should have.

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips, though it was filled with something that felt dangerously close to regret. “You always did see more in me than anyone else,” he murmured, almost to himself.

Her hands stilled briefly, but she quickly resumed her work, unwilling to meet his gaze. “Maybe I was wrong.”

For the first time since he had arrived, he looked away.

Suddenly she was overcome with a burst of courage. "You can still stop this, you can—"

“I didn’t come here for a lecture.” He snapped.

“Then why did you come here?”

He didn’t answer immediately, and when he did, his words sent a chill down her spine. “Because you’re the only one I trust.”

Her hands stilled, the bandage halfway wrapped around his arm. “You trust me?” she repeated, disbelief coloring her tone. “After all these years?”

His gaze locked onto hers, intense and unyielding. “You’ve always been different,” he said, as though that explained everything. “You see the flaws, but you don’t flinch. You never did.”

She wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong. But the truth was, a part of her still saw the boy she once called a friend. And that part of her was why she hadn’t turned him away.

Her hands fell at her sides, and she tried to search his face but she could decipher what he was feeling. "Tom..."

It was as if the utter of his name was his last straw before he was undone. “Stop.” His voice was quiet but firm, and not for the first time, it carried something she couldn’t name. A plea, maybe, hidden beneath the layers of steel. “Nothing is going to deter me from my path.”

“Even if it means losing everything? Losing everyone?”

He tilted his head, studying her as though the answer should have been obvious. “I have never really had anyone or anything. Except you.”

Her throat tightened at his words, but she managed to croak out a reply. "And you lost me."

His eyes flashed, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he leaned back in the couch, rested his head and closed his eyes. “Perhaps not,” he said finally. “But you’re here now.”

The weight of his words hung between them like a storm about to break. Before she could respond, he opened his eyes and looked at her. “I’ve watched you,” he admitted, his voice softer now, but no less intense. “For years, I’ve watched you. Wondering if one day you’d join me." He paused, "Hoping.”

She crossed her arms, holding his gaze. "You mean standing beside you while the world burns?"

His lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. "If that’s how you choose to see it."

"That's a lonely prospect." She retorted.

The flickering firelight cast shadows over his sharp features, making him seem both human and monstrous. "Lonely," he repeated, almost mockingly. "You think I don’t know what loneliness is?"

"I think you chose it," she said quietly.

Tom's eyes flashed, a dangerous spark of anger igniting in them. "I didn’t choose it," he hissed. "I embraced it. Because weakness is what binds people to one another. And I refused to be weak."

"Strength doesn’t mean shutting everyone out," she shot back. "It doesn’t mean destroying everything good in your life. You used to know that. At least I thought you did."

For a moment, she thought she saw something crack in his carefully composed mask. His voice lowered, almost a whisper and he chose to disregard her comment. "I told myself that you just needed time," he admitted. "But then I started hearing things. Rumors that you’d settled down, moved on. That you were happy." His gaze met hers, unflinching and intense. "Do you know what that did to me? The thought of someone else taking what I’d decided was mine? I was ready to kill, but then I found out the rumours were false."

She laughed, but it was hollow, her disbelief bleeding through. “Do you even hear yourself? That is not love."

His lips twisted into a bitter smile. “Call it what you want. It’s all I’ve ever had to offer.”

She shook her head. "But it's—"

“Me,” Tom interrupted. “It’s who I am. And you’ve always known that.”

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, as she tried to find her footing amidst the storm of his words. He wasn’t just offering her a place beside him—he was offering her the only version of himself he knew how to be. And for a shameful moment, she wondered if that was enough.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” she said finally, her voice breaking under the weight of her own plea. “You could still—”

“Still what?” he asked, his voice colder now. “Change? Turn back? Forget everything I’ve fought for?” His tone softened then, laced with something dangerously close to vulnerability, though his expression remained steely. “No matter what you say, I won’t stop. I can’t. Don’t you see?” His jaw tightened as though the words were difficult to force out. “You’re the only person I’ve ever had even the faintest semblance of care for—of love for.”

The word hung in the air between them, so foreign coming from his lips that she almost didn’t believe he’d said it. Her throat tightened, her body frozen under his piercing gaze.

“And if anyone,” he continued, his voice darkening, “anyone so much as thinks of taking you from me, I’ll kill them. You know I will.”

A shiver ran down her spine at the conviction in his words, the raw ferocity in his voice. She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. “You don’t love me— you just want to keep me caged.”

His nostrils flared, his expression twisting in frustration. “Why don’t you understand?” His voice cracked, sharp and raw, and before she could react, his hands shot forward, grasping her face.

She gasped, the suddenness of the gesture sending her heart racing. His hands were cold against her skin, but his grip was firm, unyielding, as though he feared she might slip away. His dark eyes bore into hers, and for the first time, she saw something she couldn’t quite name in them—a mix of fury, desperation, and something heartbreakingly human.

“I would burn the whole world just to keep you warm,” he said, his voice a low growl that reverberated through her chest.

Her breath hitched, the words crashing into her like a tidal wave. She could no longer hold her tears, and was helpless as they trailed a wait trail down her cheeks.

She couldn’t look away, couldn’t move, trapped by the sheer force of his presence.

And then, with a gentleness that was almost cruel, he leaned in, his lips brushing against the tears streaking down her face. He wiped them away with his mouth, his touch at once tender and consuming, sending a shudder through her entire body.

“Tom…” she whispered, her voice breaking as his lips trailed down the curve of her cheek. She didn’t know if it was a plea or a warning, but the moment the word left her lips, he silenced her with his own.

The kiss wasn’t soft or tentative—it was desperate, fervent, as though he were trying to etch himself into her soul, to claim her in a way that words never could. His fingers tightened slightly on her face, pulling her closer, his breath hot and unrelenting against her skin.

She tried to resist, her mind screaming at her to pull away, to end this before it consumed her entirely. But her body betrayed her, melting into his as though it had been waiting for this moment, despite everything. Despite the pain. Despite the danger.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against hers, her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps. His hands didn’t leave her face, his thumbs brushing over her skin in a way that made her heart ache.

Her voice cracked as she spoke. “When you’re healed, I’ll tell you to go.”

His hands stiffened slightly, his grip faltering for a brief second before it steadied again. "And I will come back again. And again."

She ignored his words. “For now,” she continued, her voice breaking under the weight of the moment, “I’ll let myself have this.”

She leaned into him, closing her eyes against the storm raging both outside and within her. For now, she allowed herself to relish the fleeting comfort of his touch, even as she knew it was a mistake. Because when the storm passed, when he was gone, she’d be left with nothing but the ashes of what once was—until he would come back to reignite it until she gives in.

༻♛༺

[jenosbliss]

🍇🎀ᝢ grapes under the table?

pairing. fem!reader x bsf!jeno | genre. fluff, friends to lovers | wc. 1k | warnings. none

a/n:: happy new year! btw did anyone try the 12 grapes under the table thing?

“Why do you even want to try this?” Jeno asked, his tone caught somewhere between amusement and disbelief as he crouched under the small dorm table with you,  holding a bowl of grapes like it was the most absurd task he’d ever been asked to do.

You rolled your eyes, pushing the bowl of grapes into his hands. “It’s not like I’m throwing salt over my shoulder or reading tea leaves. It’s harmless. And who knows? Maybe it’ll work!”

“You don’t even believe in this stuff,” he shot back, holding up a grape and inspecting it like it was an artifact.

“I also don’t believe in horoscopes, but I still check mine every morning,” you countered, leaning back against the table leg. “But after twenty-something years of being single, desperate times call for desperate measures.”

Jeno’s chest tightened at your words. He’d heard this complaint a million times before—your usual dramatic groaning about how unfair the dating scene was, about how no one ever liked you. But tonight, sitting under the table with you, something about it hit differently.

He remembered the evening he’d seen you at that café with some guy from your class. He’d never thought of himself as the jealous type, but watching you lean in with that laugh—the one you reserved for people you really liked—had made his stomach churn. But when the date didn’t turn into anything more, he buried the realization deep. You were his best friend, and losing you wasn’t worth the risk.

And now? The thought of this little superstition actually working, of you finding someone who wasn’t him? That made him want to throw the grapes out the window.

“You stayed back for this?” Jeno asked, his voice dipping into that teasing tone he always used to cover up his feelings. “You never skip parties, and it’s New Year’s Eve.”

“You’ve been skipping a lot of them lately, too,” you pointed out, raising an eyebrow at him. His heart stuttered. Yeah, because of you. “I just didn’t feel like going this time,” he lied.

You studied him for a moment before sighing, your gaze dropping to the bowl of grapes in his lap. “I don’t get why everyone makes such a big deal about New Year’s,” you said as if stating the obvious, your tone softer now. “It’s just a change of date. Not like Christmas or Thanksgiving, where there’s something to celebrate.”

Jeno watched you as you spoke, your expression pensive, your voice tinged with that familiar mix of frustration and longing. He’d heard this all before—how you hated being the only one without a date, how everyone seemed to find someone except you. He used to laugh at your complaints, teasing you until you smiled again.

But now? The thought of someone else being that person for you, the one who turned your complaints into laughter and made your eyes light up—it terrified him.

“Fine,” he said eventually, picking up a grape. “Let’s eat these grapes and see if your superstition works. But if you get a boyfriend this year, I’m blaming the table.”

You laughed, handing him a grape. “Deal. Now, eat.”

The two of you began eating, one grape for each month of the year. With every bite, Jeno’s heart beat louder, his thoughts spiralling. What if it actually worked? What if this silly little tradition actually brought someone into your life? What if someone else swept you off your feet and he had to watch from the sidelines?

As you popped the last grape into your mouth, you grinned triumphantly. “Done! If this works, I’m buying grapes by the crate every year.”

Jeno hesitated, his grip tightening on the bowl. His chest felt heavy, like the words he’d been holding in were threatening to spill over. “What if I don’t want it to work?”

You blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

He set the bowl aside, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “What if I don’t want you to find someone else? What if… I want to be your boyfriend?”

The words hung in the air, the weight of them pressing against your chest. “Jeno…” You stared at him, your lips parted in shock.

“I mean it,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “I stayed back tonight because I didn’t want to be anywhere else. I don’t want to watch you love someone else. I want it to be me.”

Your heart raced as the truth in his voice sank in. The boy who’d always been your anchor, your constant, was now baring his heart to you. “You’ve always been my best friend,” you said softly. “I never thought you—”

“That’s the problem,” he interrupted, his tone urgent. “You never thought. But I did. I’ve been thinking about it since the day I saw you on that stupid café date, and it scared the hell out of me. I’ve loved you longer than I even realized, and I’m done pretending I don’t.”

You stared at him, the room suddenly too small, too warm, too charged with everything you hadn’t let yourself feel until this moment. “Jeno,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Ask me again.”

His brows furrowed, confusion flickering across his face. “Ask me again,” you repeated, your voice steadier this time.He swallowed hard, his hand reaching for yours. “Can I be your boyfriend?”

A smile broke across your face as you nodded. “Yes. You can.” Relief flooded his expression, and before either of you could second-guess it, he leaned forward, his hand cradling your cheek as his lips met yours.

The kiss was soft, tentative at first, but quickly deepened as you melted into him. His touch was warm and steady, his thumb brushing against your skin as if to reassure you this was real.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and grinning, Jeno rested his forehead against yours. “Guess I owe the grapes an apology.” 

You laughed, the sound light and free. “You do.”

For the first time, New Year’s felt like more than just a change of date. It felt like the beginning of something real—something that had been waiting for the right moment all along.

As Jeno held you close under that tiny dorm table, you couldn’t help but think: this was the best start to a year yet. And just like that, New Year’s Eve didn’t feel so pointless anymore.

navigation.

masterlist. nct dream | nct 127 | wayv

[onlyforyoukook]

playing the “game”

paring: jeno x fem¡reader

synopsis: Jeno, the school’s sweetheart, makes a bet with his friends that he can win you over and get in your pants. What his friends don’t know is that you and Jeno have been secretly dating. When he tells you about the bet, instead of getting mad, you decide to turn the situation into a game. You pretending you’re falling for his tricks, all while you & jeno secretly laugh about it.

genre: one shot! smut. MDNI

wc: 3.5k

warnings: dom¡jeno—sub¡reader, oral (m & f receiving), head pushing, use of the name slut, cum swallowing, rough.., unprotected sex, squirting, aftercare, bathing together.

Jeno, the school’s sweetheart, had always been good at charming everyone around him. From his easy smile to the way he carried himself, it was no wonder people liked to be around him. So, when his friends teased him about how he could win over anyone he wanted, a bet was thrown into the mix. The target? You. What his friends didn’t know was that you and Jeno had been secretly dating for months.

When he told you about the bet, you had expected to feel angry, but instead, you found yourself laughing. “They really think you could pull one over on me?” you asked, smirking.

Jeno grinned. “Well, I did. Months ago, remember?”

The two of you decided to turn the situation into a game. You’d pretend to fall for his advances, letting his friends think he was charming you into his arms. Meanwhile, behind closed doors, you’d share every detail, laughing at how his friends ate it up.

It started small—him offering to carry your books or showing up to sit next to you during lunch. You’d roll your eyes, pretending to be unimpressed, but the twinkle in his eyes made it hard to keep a straight face. He’d lean in close, whispering things like, “Do you think they bought that?” before pulling back with a grin.

But tonight, the act started to feel a little too real. Jeno had invited you to his apartment under the guise of “working his magic.” His friends had dared him to seal the deal, and you’d agreed to keep playing along.

“You ready to give them a show?” he asked when you arrived, his voice low as he leaned against the doorframe.

You smirked. “I don’t know. Think you can handle me, sweetheart?”

The teasing was part of the game, but as the door closed behind you, something shifted. Jeno’s playful expression softened, and his hand brushed against your cheek. “You’re really good at this,” he murmured, his thumb grazing your jaw. “Too good.”

“Jealous?” you teased, but your voice was quieter now, the space between you thick with unspoken feelings.

“Maybe,” he admitted, his lips quirking into a half-smile. “It’s just… pretending you’re not already mine? It’s harder than I thought.”

Your breath hitched as he stepped closer, his hand sliding to your waist. The air felt different now—not a game, not an act. Just the two of you.

“You know,” you whispered, your hands resting against his chest, “you don’t have to pretend anymore. It’s just us here.”

Jeno’s eyes locked on yours, and for a moment, it was like he’d forgotten about the bet, the jokes, the plan. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours. “I don’t think I could stop wanting you if I tried,” he said softly.

And just like that, the act was over. His lips met yours in a slow, tender kiss that made your knees weak. His hands held you close, as if he never wanted to let go, and in that moment, it didn’t matter who was watching or what anyone else thought. This wasn’t about a bet—it was just you and Jeno, exactly where you were meant to be.

Your heart skips a beat as Jeno kisses you, the world around you fading away as you get lost in the sensation of his lips on yours. The kiss is everything you had imagined and more, soft and sweet yet filled with a raw, undeniable desire.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as you deepen the kiss. His tongue flicks against your bottom lip, seeking entrance, and you part your lips willingly, allowing him to explore your mouth.

Jeno's hands roam over your body, his touch sending shivers down your spine. He breaks the kiss only to trail a line of kisses down your jawline, nipping and sucking at your skin as he goes. His breath is hot against your ear as he whispers,

“You taste so good”

Your body responds to Jeno's touch like a flame to a spark, every nerve ending coming alive under his ministrations. You can't help but moan softly as he kisses and nibbles at your skin, your fingers digging into his hair as you hold him close.

“Jeno...” you gasp, his name falling from your lips like a plea.

Jeno grins against your skin, his teeth nipping playfully at your earlobe before he whispers,

“You want more? You want me to make you feel even better?”

His hands slide under your shirt, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist before sliding up to cup your breasts.

Jeno's eyes darken as he looks at you, his hands continuing to roam over your body.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he murmurs, his voice low and rough. “It's like you're trying to push me over the edge.l

He leans in closer, his lips hovering just above your skin as he whispers in your ear.

“And I love it. I love the way you respond to me, the way you give yourself over completely. It's addictive, and I don't think I'll ever get enough of it.”

Your body trembles with anticipation as Jeno's words send a wave of heat through you. You arch into his touch, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you try to ground yourself.

“Then don't hold back,” you whisper, your voice laced with need. “Show me just how much you want me, Jeno.”

Jeno's eyes flash with hunger at your words, and he growls low in his throat. He spins you around, pressing your back against the wall as he pins your hands above your head.

“Oh, I plan to,” his voice dripping with promise. “I'm going to make you scream my name so loud, it’ll be the only thing on your mind.”

The kiss grows more heated and desperate, Jeno's hands gripping your ass, as he pulls you flush against him. You can feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against your thigh, and the knowledge that you're the one making him feel this way only serves to fuel your own desire.

You break the kiss, panting heavily as you look up at him with a mixture of lust and need in your eyes.

“I want to taste you,” you whisper, your voice low and sultry.

He captures your chin in his hand, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

“Is that so?” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire.”You want to taste me? To feel me on your tongue”

Jeno's grip on your chin tightens as he pulls you closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he speaks in a low, seductive tone.

“Such a dirty girl,” his breath hot against your skin. “You want to get on your knees for me and take me in your mouth, don't you? To be my little slut, begging for more?”

You shiver at his words, your body trembling with a mixture of anticipation and need. You can feel the heat pooling between your legs, and you know that you're completely at his mercy.

“Yes, please,” you gasp, your voice desperate. “I want to be your little slut, I want to please you in every way possible. I want to taste you, to feel you filling my mouth, to have you completely lose control because of me.”

Jeno grins, as he takes in your desperate expression. He runs a hand through your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he pulls your head back slightly.

“Oh, you're going to get exactly what you want, princess,” he says, his voice dripping with seduction. “I'm going to make you choke on my cock, make you take every inch of me until you're begging for more.”

Jeno smirks as he takes a step back, his eyes locked on yours as he slowly unbuttons his jeans. He pushes them down, along with his boxers, freeing his hardened length.

He takes a step closer to you, his hand still tangled in your hair as he guides you down to your knees in front of him.

Jeno looks down at you, his gaze filled with dominance. He grips his cock in his hand, gently tapping his tip along your cheek as he smirks.

“Open up, princess,” he orders, his voice low and commanding. “Show me how badly you want this.”

You obediently part your lips, taking him into your mouth and wrapping your tongue around his length. You begin to bob your head up and down, taking him deeper with each movement.

Jeno lets out a low groan, his fingers tightening in your hair as he watches you take him so eagerly.

“That's it, baby,” he growls, his voice strained with pleasure. “Just like that...fuck, you're so good at this.”

Jeno's grip on your hair tightens as he pushes your head down further, forcing you to take more of his length into your mouth.

He lets out a string of curses as he feels the back of your throat constrict around him, his hips bucking forward instinctively.

“You're perfect,” he moans, his eyes rolling back in his head with pleasure. “So eager to please me, taking my cock so deep in that pretty little mouth of yours.”

Jeno's breathing becomes more ragged as he loses himself in the pleasure of your mouth on him. He starts to thrust his hips in time with your movements, using his grip on your hair to guide you up and down his length.

“You're such a good little cockslut,”his voice hoarse “Look at you, on your knees for me, taking me like you were made for it. I should keep you like this all the time, always ready to worship me.”

You pull your mouth off his cock for a moment, looking up at him with a mix of need and adoration in your eyes.

“Jeno,” you gasp, your voice hoarse from having his cock in your throat.

Jeno's eyes flash with dominance as he looks down at you.

“Shut up and suck my cock,” his voice commanding. “I don't want to hear another word from you until I come down that pretty throat of yours.”

Jeno's body tenses as he reaches his climax, as he pushes your head down one final time.

He lets out a guttural moan as he spills himself down your throat, his hot release filling your mouth—you obeying his command to swallow every drop.

He watches you intently, his eyes dark with satisfaction as he watches you swallow his cum without hesitation.

“Good girl,” he praises, his voice rough “You took it all like a good little slut.”

Jeno picks you up effortlessly, his strong arms wrapping around your body as he carries you over to the bed. He lays you down on the mattress, his eyes raking over your body with hunger.

He slides your panties down your legs, letting them fall to the floor as he positions himself between your thighs.

“You're so beautiful like this,” he murmurs, his hands tracing the curves of your body.

Jeno smirks as he looks down at you, his eyes filled with desire as he sees the evidence of your own arousal.

He leans down, his lips trailing kisses up the inside of your thighs, slowly making his way closer to your core.

“You're already so wet for me, princess,” he murmurs against your skin. “I can see how badly you want me.”

Jeno's mouth finds your clit, his lips wrapping around the sensitive bud as he begins to suck and tease it with his tongue.

At the same time, he slides two fingers into your slick pussy, slowly pushing them deep inside you and curling them upwards to hit your sweet spot.

You let out a gasp, your body arching up off the bed as Jeno's fingers and mouth work their magic on you. The sensations are overwhelming, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

“Oh, God, Jeno...” you moan, your hands fisting the sheets as you struggle to keep yourself in control. “Please...don't stop...”

Jeno chuckles against your skin, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. He pulls back for a moment, his fingers still pumping in and out of you.

“Don't worry, love,” his voice dripping with confidence. “I have no intention of stopping until you're screaming my name.”

He dives back in, his tongue resuming to suck your clit as he adds a third finger to the mix, stretching you open and filling you up even more.

Jeno's fingers move faster, pumping in and out of you at a relentless pace as he continues to lavish attention on your clit. He can feel your walls clenching around his fingers, a sign of how close you are to falling apart for him.

He looks up at you, as he watches your face contort with pleasure. He can see the way your body is trembling, the way your breaths come in ragged gasps.

“That's it, let go for me, come on my fingers like the good little slut you are.”

As Jeno's words and actions push you closer and closer to the edge, you feel the tightening in your core become almost unbearable, almost like you have to pee.

You arch your back off the bed, a cry of pleasure escaping your lips as your orgasm suddenly crashes over you like a tidal wave, squirting your juices everywhere.

Your body trembles and shakes as you come undone, your release coating Jeno's fingers and his face as he continues to work you through your climax.

Jeno grins, a look of pure satisfaction on his face as he feels your release gush out of you.

He pulls his fingers out of you, bringing them up to his mouth and licking them clean as he watches you come down from your high.

“That's my girl,” he says, his voice low and possessive. “You're such a messy little thing, cuming all over me like that.”

You lie there on the bed, completely spent and sated. Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm.

You look up at Jeno through half-lidded eyes, a small smile playing on your lips as you see the evidence of your release on his face.

“God...that was incredible,” you manage to gasp out, your voice still shaky.

Jeno looks down at you with a smirk, his eyes glinting with mischief and desire.

“I hope you're not too tired, baby,” he says, his voice low and rough. “We're not even close to being done yet.”

He moves to position himself between your legs, aligning the head of his cock with your still-sensitive entrance.

Your heart races as you feel the tip of Jeno's cock pressing against your entrance, the anticipation of what's to come making your body thrum with excitement.

“I can handle whatever you give me, Jeno,” you say, your voice a sultry whisper.

Jeno grins at your words, as he lean down, his body hovering over yours as he begins to push himself inside you, inch by inch. You let out a gasp as he fills you up, the sensation of being stretched and filled completely making your toes curl.

“Fuck baby, you feel so good,” he groans, his voice strained with pleasure. “So tight and perfect around me.”

Jeno starts to move, his hips thrusting forward as he begins to fuck you with deep, powerful strokes.

He sets a punishing pace, his body driving into yours with a relentless rhythm. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by your gasps and moans.

His hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place as he plows into you over and over again, each thrust hitting that perfect spot inside you that makes you see stars.

As Jeno continues to pound into you, the bed starts to shake and creak beneath you, banging against the wall with each powerful thrust.

The sound of the bed hitting the wall only fuels your desire, and you can't help but let out a series of loud, uninhibited moans of Jeno's name.

“Oh—nghh, Jeno! Yes, r-right th-ere.. d-don..” your words trail off as you begin to moan due to the intense pleasure.

Jeno growls as he continues to fuck into you, his grip on your hips tightening even further.

“You like that, don't you?” he pants out, his voice strained with exertion. “Like being fucked so hard like a little slut, that you can't even think straight, hm?”

Your ability to speak is completely gone, lost in the haze of pleasure that Jeno is driving you to. All you can do is moan and gasp, your body arching and writhing beneath him as he continues to take you.

Your eyes are glazed over with pleasure, your mind completely consumed by the ecstasy that he's giving you. The only thing you can manage to do is nod your head, letting him know just how good he's making you feel without being able to form any words.

As Jeno's thrusts become more erratic and his breathing grows more ragged, you can feel your own climax approaching once again. Your body is wound tight like a coil, ready to snap at any moment.

Suddenly, he pulls out of you, his cock slick with your arousal. Before you can even process what's happening, he grabs your chin and forces your head up, positioning his cock at your lips.

“Open up, princess” he growls, his voice low and commanding.

You obey instantly, parting your lips and opening your mouth wide for him. Your eyes lock with his as he slides his cock into your mouth, the taste of your own arousal and his pre-cum filling your senses. You close your lips around him, bobbing your head up and down as you work to bring him to his own climax.

Jeno's body trembles as he looks down at you, his eyes dark and wild with pleasure. He can feel his orgasm building, his muscles tensing as he struggles to hold back for just a few more seconds.

“Fuck...you're so good at this,” he gasps out, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pushes himself deeper into your mouth. “I'm gonna come, princess. Swallow every last drop.”

You nod your head, your eyes never leaving his as you continue to bob your head up and down, taking him deeper into your throat. You can feel his body starting to tense even more, his muscles coiling like a spring ready to snap. He lets out a strangled cry, his fingers tightening in your hair as he finally gives in to the pleasure.

“Oh god...here it comes...”

Jeno's body shudders as he finally reaches his peak, his cock pulsing and twitching as he spills his release into your mouth. He lets out a moan, his eyes rolling back into his head as the pleasure washes over him. You swallow every last drop, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock as you work to milk him dry.

As Jeno slowly comes down from his high, his eyes flutter open and lock onto yours. The dark, intensity from earlier is gone, replaced by a softness and tenderness that you’re used to seeing. He leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment before he pulls away.

“Stay here, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “I'll be right back.” He gets up from the bed and heads into the bathroom, returning a few moments later with a warm, damp towel in his hand.

He sits down beside you, gently cleaning up the evidence of your passionate encounter, his touch gentle and caring. After cleaning you up, Jeno takes your hand and leads you into the bathroom.

The steam from the hot water fills the room, creating a cozy and intimate atmosphere. He helps you into the bathtub, making sure you're comfortable before climbing in behind you. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you back against his chest as he lets out a contented sigh.

“This is nice,” he murmurs, nuzzling his face into your neck. Jeno's phone starts to ring, the sound breaking the peaceful silence of the bathroom.

He glances at the screen and sees that it's his friends calling their group chat. He rolls his eyes and picks up the phone, knowing exactly what they're going to ask him.

“Hm?” he answers, his voice low and slightly amused.

His friends immediately launch into a barrage of questions, asking if he's “hit that” yet. Jeno can't help but chuckle, his arms tightening around you as he listens to their antics.

Jeno quickly hangs up after the quick laugh, setting his phone down, a small smile playing on his lips as he pulls you closer against him. He runs his hands over your body, his touch gentle and soothing as he lets out a contented sigh. “Sorry about that,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. “My friends can be...persistent.”

“yeah i know that” you say in a chuckle.

MASTERLIST

[misswynters]

Blues

Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!reader

[warning: mdni, mature/explicit (18+), riding, bathtub sex, p in v, slight degrading, let me know if i missed anything

[note | i just got inspired out of nowhere :D just a short one

Deep hues of orange and yellow danced around the room caused by the flickering candle lights. It gave the perfect ambiance for relaxation. The bathing chambers in Dragonstone had transformed into a private tableau of passion and raw desire, the warm water of the bathtub rippled like molten gold beneath the dim, as it laid on your skin. Jacaerys stood at the entrance, his figure a powerful silhouette against the light, every movement conveying a deep need.

You were already in the tub, your body submerged and partially obscured by the swirling water. The sight of you, vulnerable and serene in your repose, seemed to ignite a storm within him. He approached with deliberate, almost ceremonial movements, each step a testament to the tempest of emotions swirling inside him.

"Jace," you started, but he silenced you with a fierce, almost punishing kiss. His lips crashed against yours, his teeth nipping at your lower lip hard enough to make you gasp. The kiss was rough, possessive, and it took your breath away.

"I need this," he growled against your lips, his voice raw with anger and desperation. "I need you." You nodded, understanding the storm raging inside him. His mother's decisions had been weighing heavily on him, and he needed an outlet for his frustration.

Without a word, he lifted you from the water and seated you upon his lap. The contrast between the warm, wet embrace of the tub and the burning intensity of his touch created a scene almost too vivid to be true. Your soaked shift was pushed up around your waist in an instant, and he wasted no time in positioning himself beneath you. His fingers dug into your hips as he lifted you slightly, the head of his cock pressing insistently at your entrance. There was no gentleness, no hesitation.

With a single, brutal thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, eliciting a strangled cry from your lips. The water splashed violently around you as he set a punishing pace, his thrusts hard and fast, each one driving him deeper inside you. The sound of water slapping against the sides of the tub mixed with the lewd, wet sounds of your bodies colliding, your breathless moans, and his guttural groans.

"Fuck," he snarled, his hands gripping your hips so tightly it hurt. "You're so fucking tight." You could feel his anger in every movement, the way his fingers dug into your flesh, the way his hips snapped up to meet yours with almost violent intensity. The raw power of his need was overwhelming, and it drove you wild with desire.

"Jace," you moaned, your voice a breathless plea. His name on your lips seemed to push him even further, his thrusts becoming harder, more erratic. He reached around to grasp your breast, his fingers pinching your nipple almost painfully as he drove into you.

"You're mine," he growled, his voice a rough whisper in your ear. "No one else's. I'm going to fill you up, make sure everyone knows who you belong to."

The words sent a thrill through you, heightening your arousal. You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, the intensity of his thrusts pushing you closer to the edge. The thought of him claiming you so completely, of his seed filling you, was enough to drive you wild.

"You want that, don't you?" he panted, his voice rough and demanding. "You want me to fill you up, to breed you."

"Yes," you gasped, the idea sending waves of pleasure through your body. "Yes, Jace, please."

"Good my dear," he growled, his thrusts becoming even more frantic. "I'm going to make sure you're dripping with me. You'll be swollen with my child, everyone will know you're mine." His words pushed you closer to the edge, the pressure inside you building to an almost unbearable peak. The idea of carrying his child, of being marked by him so completely, sent you spiraling.

As his thrusts grew more frantic, you could feel the bulge of his cock with each deep, powerful thrust. The sensation of him stretching you so fully was intoxicating, and you could hear the lewd, wet sounds of him moving inside you, each one echoing the intensity of your connection.

"Do you feel that?" he groaned, his voice rough with desire. "Feel how deep I am inside you? I'm going to fill you so full, you'll be able to feel me for days."

"Yes," you whimpered, your body trembling with anticipation and need. "I can feel you, Jace. You're so big."

His pace quickened, the slapping of water against skin filling the room, mingling with your cries of pleasure. The pressure inside you built to an almost unbearable peak, and you could feel yourself teetering on the brink of release.

With one hand, Jacaerys pressed down on your lower abdomen, the sensation of him moving in and out of you intensified by the pressure. "By the gods," he growled. "You feel amazing."

You nodded frantically, the added sensation making everything more intense. His other hand grabbed your chin, forcing you to look down. "Watch," he demanded. "Watch how I fuck you."

Your eyes fluttered open, and you gasped at the sight. His cock slid in and out of you with powerful, relentless thrusts, each one making the water around you splash. The sight was mesmerizing, his size and the way he filled you completely almost too much to bear.

He pulled your face to his, pressing your foreheads together. His eyes bored into yours, dark and intense. "You like this, don't you?" he hissed, his voice both degrading and desperate.

"Being fucked like this, so hard you can feel it days later."

"Yes, Jace," you moaned, your breath coming in ragged gasps. "I love it."

"Good," he growled. "Because I'm going to fill you up so full, you'll be swollen with my child. Everyone will know you're mine."

His words sent a jolt of electricity through you, pushing you over the edge. Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing around him, your cries echoing off the walls.

The sensation of you tightening around him was too much for Jacaerys. With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, his own release tearing through him as he groaned your name.

You felt him pulse inside you, his warmth flooding you completely. He stayed buried deep within you, his body shaking with the force of his release.

For a moment, you both stayed still, panting and spent, your bodies still trembling from the intensity of your coupling.

Jacaerys rested his forehead against your shoulder, his breath hot on your skin. "You drive me crazy," he murmured again, but this time his voice was softer, more tender.

You turned your head to look at him, a satisfied smile playing on your lips. "I know," you replied, your voice a whisper. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

He chuckled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder. "Neither would I," he agreed, his arms wrapping around you as he held you close, the warm and gentleness of your shared presence giving way to a quiet moment.

[a/n: (if you don’t wanna be tagged on 18+ things let me know!)

taglist: @spn-obession @benjicotblckwood @beebeechaos @travelingmypassion @shoxji @thornsandtulips @giovanna-hyt @r-3dlips @eddie-brii @thornsandtulips

banner: @cafekitsune

[ginevrapng]

the first time james saw you he lost interest in any other girl, you just looked so soft, so adorable. he wanted to keep you all to himself, away from prying eyes. before you he would tell people he doesn't have a type because before you he didn't, now though, well it's a different story, he just wants to wrap his arms around your plush waist and never let you go. he would gladly die between your thick thighs, buried between them.

one day you came into class and he figures that you must have run out of clothes to wear so you had to wear some of your old ones and that may have been one of the happiest days in his life. your shirt too tight and your skirt too short. he could see how the fabric and buttons of the shirt was struggling to stay covering your chest and your skirt short enough that james could see light stretch marks covering your skin, but also long enough to not cause a scene. no one else took notice of your attire that day, but james did. he couldn't help it, and he swears he tried to look away but he just couldn't, you're just so beautiful. he felt like a creep but he couldn't pay attention to anything else, he wanted to delicately trace your stretch marks with his fingertips. he wanted to do things that he'd never say out loud.

james wants to pull you down into his lap while he see's you making your way to your own table in the great hall. he wants to feel your body pressed against his and smell your sweet perfume. he knows you'd complain about being too heavy, he's overheard you mention it before, about how you think you're too heavy to get picked up or be on top of someone. james wants to impress you, to show you that he can, because of course he can pick you up and of course you're not too heavy for him, you're perfect the way you are and he's strong enough to lift anything and everything. he'd carry you with one hand all the way up a mountain if it would impress you and get you to notice him.

he wants to pinch your chubby cheeks and wants to kiss your forehead. he wants you.

his friends obviously notice this new attraction james has towards this girl but chosen not to mention, that is until he started to constantly bring you up and gushes to them about how perfect and cute you are. this getting very mixed reviews from his friends, lily having pity for you, aware of how he gets when he likes someone, sirius constantly teasing him about you, mary saying how nice you sounded, remus seemed mostly indifferent to the whole thing, marlene telling him to make a move. if james was honest he didn't take much notice of the teasing or the annoyance that they had because he kept bringing you up, he just needed to tell everyone about how amazing you are.

james knows how to pine after a girl and god does he do exactly that and he makes that very known to you. at first you were wary and skeptical of this sudden attention the famous gryffindor quidditch captain bestowed on you, he was one of the most popular students in hogwarts but after a while james broke down your walls with his charming smile and his acts of kindness, walking you to classes and pulling pranks on anyone who says nasty comments about you weight.

soon enough you end up in wrapped in red and gold on your way to support him in a match, his scarf keeping you warm from the harsh weather. after his win you end up running into his arms, congratulating him as he spins you around, you complain that he's sweaty, causing him to chuckle.

cupping your cheek, he lowers his voice and whispers to you, "you're my good luck charm, 'course i won." your face heats up and you shyly smile up at him. "what would i do without my good luck charm. you wanna be m' good luck charm always doll? wanna be mine?" he tucks some of your hair behind your ear, leaning in even closer, " 'cause i'm already yours. no one else for me doll." soon enough you accept to be his girlfriend, on the condition that he takes a shower straight away.

[paecifist]

What if reader was a kpop idol and she previously mentioned that she’s a big fan of itoshi sae? And I’d really like it if there was a spicy scene 2!!!!

having a crush on sae itoshi really pays off! ✧ sae itoshi x idol!reader

the room smells like sweat, cologne, and expensive alcohol, loud enough to be alive, but quiet enough for secrecy. velvet couches line the edges of the private lounge, dim lights casting soft halos over the glasses in everyone's hands. you're still in your stage outfit, sleek, black satin with glitter at the collarbone, legs crossed, back straight, a glass of something sweet and spiked in your hand.

and across from you, leaning against the bar with one hand tucked into his pocket, is itoshi sae. he's already looked your way three times. you counted.

one of your members nudges you, voice teasing. "you gonna talk to him or just burn a hole through him with your eyes?"

you huff a laugh, trying to play it off, but your fingers grip your glass tighter. it's surreal. after years of calling him your ideal type. after all the interviews, the edits, the compilations of your flushed face when someone even mentioned his name. and now here he is, in the same room, and he keeps looking at you like he knows.

you take a slow sip, trying to gather courage, but he beats you to it.

"should i be flattered," he says coolly, suddenly at your side, "or a little concerned by how long you've been staring?" his voice is low and smooth and it makes your heart stutter in your chest.

your lips part. "i wasn't-"

"you were," he cuts in, one corner of his mouth quirking up. "but it's fine. i'm used to being watched."

you exhale a breathy laugh. "well. that makes two of us."

he hums. "the difference is, you looked good doing it."

and just like that, the air between you sharpens. he leans closer, gaze flickering to your mouth. "you gonna keep making heart-eyes across from the room, or are you gonna let me buy you a drink?"

"f-fuck, sae-" you moan. his fingers dig into your hips as he shoves you against the cold wall, lips trailing down your neck, teeth grazing, leaving marks. you shiver, melting into his touch, desperate and dripping. his hands rip at the zipper of your stage outfit, peeling it down until the satin slips from your shoulders and pools around your feet.

he grunts low, eyes dark and wild as he cups your bare skin, thumbs brushing over your ribs. "been wanting this, he kisses your neck, "you've been on my mind, every damn day."

your fingers clutch his shirt, pulling him closer. "sae.. please- don't stop-"

his hand slides between your legs, finding your slick heat already aching for him. he presses two fingers deep, slow and teasing, making your breath hitch and your body arch toward him.

"shit, you're so wet," he breathes. "made me wait too long."

before you can say anything else, he's pressing the head of his cock at your entrance, dragging in a slow, torturous circle that makes your knees tremble.

"fuck," he curses, pushing inside you all at once, filling you so completely it takes your breath away. his hips slam forward, each thrust hitting deep and raw, as if he's trying to bury years of longing inside you.

you cry out, voice breaking and fingers digging into his back. "mmpf- sae- harder, please please please!"

he pounds into you relentlessly, skin slapping against skin, sweat mixing, your bodies slick and hot and tangled.

"i'm gonna break you," he pants, voice thick with need. "so fucking good, baby- so tight for me- mmm- did you wait all those years hoping for this day, amor?"

"y-yes sae, oh God-" your walls clamp down around him, breath ragged as you ride the edge, mind spinning and body trembling. "don't stop.. need you so bad," you sob.

he buries his face in your neck, groaning loud and deep as his pace quickens, his cock pulsing inside you. "gonna fill you up, baby. gonna make you mine, yeah?"

it's fierce and endless when he finally cums, hot ropes spilling deep inside you. your own orgasm crashes over you moments later, shattering every nerve into pure fire. you're both breathless, your fingers tangled in his hair, his hands gripping your hips.

the world is a blur outside this room.

[allurearia]

Love is shared playlists.

Where you discover that a certain blonde haired guy and you share a playlist.

Tsukishima kei x reader

As you had stepped onto the karasuno bus scanning for a seat your eyes had immediately landed on Kiyoko and Yachi sitting next to each other on the front two  seats leaving you to either sit with one of the boys or all on own. They both instantly offered apologetic smiles

“Sorry!” Yachi calls out, looking genuinely guilty. “We kind of snagged these two seats together.”

You wave it off with a soft smile. “It’s fine” you assure her even if the sight of everyone else sitting in pairs makes you feel just a little out of place.

With a small sigh you immediately head to the back of the bus sitting down on a seat of your own right beside a window. As you look outside you pull your bag up reaching into it you freeze.

Your headphones. You forgot them

you slump into your seat, frustrated at yourself. Normally, you’d block out the noise with music, but now all you have is the sound of your teammates’ excited conversations.

Just as you’re about to commit to a boring bus ride, you notice someone stand by your seat. You turn your head just in time to see Tsukishima plop down next to you, taking the aisle seat.

He doesn’t say anything at first, not that you expect him to. His golden eyes flicker towards you briefly before he looks straight ahead, 

“Didnt know you liked sitting next me, usually in class your all the way across” you narrow you eyes as you tease him

“Dont flatter yourself no other seats were left” he excuses 

“Sure” your hum looking outside.

A few minutes into the ride, he already has your attention again, you see him reach into his bag and pull out a pair of earphones. The cord dangles in his hands as he untangles it and you can’t help but stare.

Tsukishima notices.

“What?” His tone is sharp, but there’s no real malice behind it.

You glance away, embarrassed. “Nothing,” you mutter. “I just forgot mine, isnt fair how i get to suffer in silence”

He looks at you, then at the earphones in his hand, as if weighing his options. Finally, with a sigh he holds out one earbud. “Here.”

You blink, surprised “Seriously?”

“Do you want it or not?” He sounds annoyed, but you can tell he’s trying not to let on how much he actually doesn’t mind.

Grinning, you take the earbud. “Wow, Tsukki. Didn’t know you had such a soft spot for me.”

“Don’t push your luck.”

You settle into your seat, sliding the earbud into your ear. The bus noise slowly filtering out around you, but all you can focus on is the sudden quiet as Tsukishima’s music fills your head.

It takes a few seconds before you recognize it.

Your heart skips a beat.

The songs playing are familiar, too familiar. It’s from the playlist you had made a few weeks ago and sent to him. You had almost forgotten about it, thinking he never bothered to open the link. After all, it had been a simple attempt to bridge the awkward silence between you two back then, When he hadn’t mentioned it, you assumed he ignored it.

But here it is, playing through his headphones. And then, another song comes on—one you definitely didn’t add. It’s slower, not something you had added but undeniably a Tsukishima choice. He added his own songs

You glance at him, your heart swelling with a mix of surprise and warmth. Tsukishima keeps his eyes forward, completely unaware of the storm of thoughts swirling in your head. But the small act says more than any words could.

“You... listened to it?” you ask quietly, 

Tsukishima shrugs, as if it’s no big deal. “Yeah. So?”

You can’t help the smile that forms on your lips. “You added your own songs.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No.” You shake your head, feeling a strange, unspoken understanding settle between you. “Not at all.”

Love is a shared playlist.

Love is? masterlist

[babextoken]

♡⟡˙⋆It takes us a little higher⋆˙⟡♡

Summary: You've never been fond of your roommate Vessel, but a mortifying shared experience brings you closer than you ever thought possible.

a/n: MDNI - smut under the cut. Alternate, affectionate title is "Close the Fucking Door. Holy Shit."

roommate!vessel x fem!reader, enemies to lovers, some angst, porn with plot, accidental voyeurism, laundry day tension, vessel's favorite color seems to be emerald, reader and vessel are mean to each other, very brief slut shaming (the word "whore" is used twice derogatorily), “you’re the closest and hottest thing right now” type shit, rough sex but it’s comfort sex

No, roommates don’t have to be friends. There is no bylaw saying if you share a dwelling and the bills therein you have to be the best of friends with your housemate…but if there was, you and Vessel would be faced with a hefty fine. Where you saw the opportunity to be lighthearted, he would claim you never took anything seriously; yet when he attempted to be playful with you, you accused him of mocking you. Is this brownstone in town worth the strife? Actually, yes. Everyone has their own comfortable spaces, it’s close to everyone’s workplace, the rent is reasonable. And yet. This afternoon you’re in the little laundry room sorting things to go into the washer when you hear the heaviest sigh. “Just going to start laundry, then? No worries if anyone else needs it.” Oh, he’s grumpy today.

Vessel has his barely filled laundry basket in his long arms and impatiently drums his fingers on it. 

“Doesn’t seem like you were going to ask me. Now does it?” You nod at his laundry basket as he stammers a bit. “Just put it in with mine.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Vessel, seriously,” you snap, “you have barely anything in there. We’d be wasting water if I didn’t…”

“This is how I always do my laundry! Saying I’m the reason the water bill i–”

“JUST… put your laundry in the washer. Jesus.”

Vessel huffs and drops his laundry in like you said (or as you demanded as he would have put it). You two can hardly look at each other. He doesn’t even acknowledge you as you thank him. He shows his gratitude by switching the laundry and then sorting it once it’s dry. He does this in the living room with an inconsequential movie on. You join him for what you call “a folding paaarrttyyyyy.” This actually gets a little laugh from him. Humorless laugh, but it’s a sign of life. 

It had been a month or so of just existing in the same space since an “incident” had occurred. Neither of you brought it up but it lingered heavily between you.

𓍯𓂃

The morning of the incident you two had a civil, even thoughtful, conversation. You told Ves you’d be out that evening, maybe even all night. This delighted him. He could do some audio mixing without fear of interruption. Spread out in the living room. Oh the possibilities! He even asked who the guy was. Anything to encourage you to leave him alone for the night. Get you talking and excited about whoever the hell this poor man is so that maybe you’d get yourself all giddy and blushy and convince yourself to stay out all night. You deserve it…no wait…no. Vessel deserved it. He had to keep reminding himself he didn’t actually care. 

Except he did. The evening was actually boring. You’d only been gone an hour, and he was already thinking about going to bed. He idly wondered what you and the guy were doing. That emerald green dress you had on made it seem like you were dead set on seducing on him. The way it hugged your hips and didn’t even graze your knees. How your sheer black stockings made your legs glimmer just a bit. Vessel came to the conclusion that you actually could seduce this man without even trying…you’d just have to show up. Fuck. These weird, clouded, thoughts that flirted with being both positive and lustful rubbed Vessel the wrong way. That’s his roommate he’s thinking about. Maybe he’s just lonely.

Yes, that’s it. He’s desperate. And that feeling churns and grows to the point where he can’t ignore it anymore. He’s home alone, after all. Why not make a little “to do” about it? He dimmed his lights and slipped out of his clothes, splaying out on his bed with a little bottle of lube close by. This was something he missed. Indulging in a little fantasy and playing with himself, all while not having to wonder if someone would hear him or walk in or just make some goddamn annoying noise that would distract him. All he could hear was his ragged, raspy breaths and soft moans…and the slick pornographic sounds of his fist pumping his cock. God it was so nice to just edge a little…he really did deserve this. He tries to think of something to calm him down and dull the feeling. Your most recent argument about where the reusable grocery bags were was very helpful in this instance…except for when he remembered your little dress. How soft you looked piled in the satin. What kind of panties did you have on under that? No panty line was visible so maybe…no don’t go there. But he has to. He has to imagine what it would be like to let his fingers trail up your inner thigh to then lift your dress and see those fucking tights hugging your plush ass and maybe even how your soft thighs would expand as you sit back on your heels, your pretty eyes gazing up at him…

“Oh…fuck!”

But it wasn’t Vessel exclaiming. Why were you home? “CLOSE THE FUCKING DOOR. HOLY SHIT.”

You had scurried into your room. Your cheeks hurt from your nervous grin and the blush dusting your cheeks; you feel like a little girl running from her crush. But this wasn’t innocent. You had just watched your roommate cum. The little whimpers and groans piqued your attention the second you entered the hall. You actually thought he had been crying but…good god. If there had been tears, they’d have been ones of ecstasy. The look on his face…you’ll never forget that. The way his jaw fell and his eyebrows knitted together…how his bobbing throat signaled yet another desperate moan. You had left your date way early for…reasons you’d rather not think about at the moment. You had a new problem. The image of arrogant, quiet Vessel truly enjoying himself…looking absolutely delicious…vulnerable…that wasn't leaving your mind anytime soon. And you couldn’t stop thinking about the way his abs flexed as he came…what would they feel like under your hand if you were riding him? Or against your own soft tummy while you’re on your back? Or even against your back as he spooned and fucked you while whispering filth in your ear. You stared up at the ceiling by the low light of your bedside lamp after taking care of yourself. The thrill from your momentary distraction from your bad date turns into guilt and settles in your tummy where your arousal once was.

Your mind won’t shut up. Berating you for being such a perv. And that’s when you hear Ves. Pacing. He does that sometimes. Of all the sounds you hear from sharing a wall with him, that’s the sound you’ve come to anticipate the most. How his mind reels at night. You start to ruminate, imagining that he regrets this. But it seems you finally have something in common tonight. You’re embarrassed. You’re awake. And you’re alone. Instead of nodding off, you take a chance. You reach up and knock softly on your shared wall. Just a little, “I’m right  there with you.” And as you drift off to sleep you hear two soft, timid knocks above your head.

𓍯𓂃

With the laundry folded in complete and utter silence, you sigh heavily and take your folded laundry into your room. Your phone vibrates in your pocket and you grin at the text…completely ignoring the visitor in your doorway. You don’t even look up but you speak. “I’m going out tonight.”

“Oh? Uhm. Cool.” Vessel tries to act as if he isn’t the one encroaching on your space. Too aloof to care. He certainly wasn’t feeling touch and attention starved. Not at all. That had nothing to do with why he was standing in your doorway, watching you poke at your phone. “Another date?”

“Yep. Been too long since the last one.”

Ves looks at you thoughtfully and weighs his options. Does he risk perhaps having to talk about the “close the fucking door. Holy shit” incident? Or does he continue to push you away? Continue to make you the villain in his inner monologue? He takes a deep breath, holds it, and bites the bullet. “Why did you come home so early that night?”

A long sigh escapes you. “I…got to the restaurant and, well, basically he told me I looked easy and that he liked that. So the whole evening was just…” you pause and look away. 

“He didn’t try to…like…”

“No.” You don’t mean to snap, but you did. Vessel nods, nonplussed by your tone. “No, I didn't give him a chance. Turns out I’m a whore for dressing like that and for not putting out. Such is life, yeah?” 

“Waste of an outfit, if you ask me.” You stare at Vessel for a bit. He seems angry. Tense. His legs jitter a bit and he wipes his face with a long exhale. “You should be taken out in that dress whenever you want…wherever you want.” 

You go to your closet and pull out a few dresses like your emerald and hold them up to yourself in the mirror. “Well, he’s getting a second chance tonight.”

He scoffs and crosses his arms. His height allows him to take up most of your doorframe; he secretly hopes that might keep you from leaving. From seeing that degenerate. If you just wanted to get fucked he wishes you’d just ask him. But he has to remind himself that some people need a bit more than that. He wouldn’t know the first thing about what you needed. He pleaded with himself nightly to not worry about it. It won’t work. It shouldn’t work. But damnit…you’re right there. The single hottest and closest thing. Vessel doesn't realize he’s just been staring, shaking his head with disappointment.

“Care to share or are you just being weird?” You say without looking away from the mirror.

“Why are you putting yourself through this? Hm? Do you like being treated like that?”

He purses his lips when your eyes pierce through him, getting ready to strike. “Well, not that present company can understand this but people can change and redeem themselves. Besides, what do you care?”

You’ve got him. Vessel looks down, sniffs, and shrugs. “Maybe you are a whore.” He immediately winces. That was mean…and stupid. He pushes himself off the doorframe and sulks back to his room. But you’re on his heels.

“Tell me why you care, Vessel,” you demand to his back. He won’t turn and face you. “Fucking look at me.”

With a heavy sigh, he turns, shoulders slumped…and hard as a rock. His arousal can easily be attributed to the blood rush and emotions from being angry but truth be told it’s from imaging you in those dresses you were considering. And imagining you in that green dress, letting him take you out and then have his way with you.Your eyes are boring into him with a look he’s never seen before. “Want some help?” 

He nods softly. 

“Can I get verbal consent? Jesus Christ,” you huff. 

“Yeah…yes, I’d like help.” He watches as you slip off your hoodie and kneel like you’ve done this before with him. What a sight. 

“Take your shirt off, Ves. Please.” It all feels like a dream. Vessel is standing before you, rock hard and willing. Your hands rub up his thighs… to his hips…his abs…and he actually caresses your arms when they stretch up to gently play with his nipples. After moving your hands down to remove his pants, you place soft kisses on stomach and around his happy trail. Fuck. This is living. Your arms wrap around to his back as you hold him place, making him whine softly with each kiss. It’s impossible to keep from kissing and caressing your face right below his belly button. It’s unfair how good he feels against your lips and how lovely he smells from his body wash and just…him. As toned as he is, you find a soft spot and gently bite it. You look up expecting him to have his eyes closed but he’s actually staring down at you, biting his lip. It’s too much to bear. It feels like second nature to take his cock in your mouth. You’re lost in the feeling of taking him deeper until you gag softly. When you do, he caresses your hair, asking if you’re ok. His touch is so gentle, but you’re confused when he slowly pries you off his cock and stands you up. You’re about to take off your bralette when he shakes his head and tsks. 

“I need something to hold onto, don’t I?”

You’re unable to answer as he presses a hot, messy kiss against your mouth. He’s quite literally taking your breath away as he wraps his long arms around your body and his tongue prods at your lips. He needs to taste you. He meant to not just enjoy you…but to know you. To know how you like…no…how you need to be kissed. And where you like to be kissed. It’s not enough to kiss you where “everyone wants to be kissed” like your neck and collarbone…he needs to map it out. No one will ever know this body like he does. It’s like his brain has shut down. He doesn’t remember pushing you to the bed and  lowering himself to the floor on his knees as he took off your sweats and panties. But he’s fully lucid when he, without preamble, delicately presses his tongue against your heat for the first time. The sound that comes out of you…my god. He wonders to himself if you’d ever record yourself cumming for him or even let him make a little video sometime. Better yet…he’d just have you every night. 

But that takes time and that’s what he’s doing right now. His tongue is tracing slow circles around your clit as he commits this moment to memory. The feeling of your fingers playing with his hair excites him, makes him feel giddy. He moans softly against your little sweet as he brings it into his mouth. It becomes very clear after a while that he’s chasing your orgasms along with you. 

When he pulls away, he’s  all starry eyed and a little giggly. “Oh…you are divine. Can I do more?”

All you can let out is a pathetic whimper as you catch your breath. He looms over you, wiping you off his mouth. “Can I get your verbal consent, angel?” 

“Please. Yes…please…” you get out as your core aches to feel anything from him again. 

“Look at you. You’ve got a little pulse down there, good girl.” He lets his fingers trace your throbbing clit, but there’s no relief. You whine against his touch. “Made you feel good, huh? Tell me something…how badly do you want to get fucked?”

You whimper softly and roll over onto your tummy for him. No words from you are required when Vessel whispers soft encouragements and makes sure you’re comfy before teasing your cunt one last time with his fingers. “Just put it in, Ves, please.” 

Vessel gently pops your bralette strap against your back and chuckles at your impatience. “No warm up? I didn’t think you’d be this much fun.” Your front lifts from the bed as you moan into the bed, but Vessel smooths his hand down your back.“I know….I know. Just breathe, baby. Open your legs for me a bit more.” He runs his hands along your thighs and presses them into his bed. Like he said he would, he grasps the band of your bralette with one hand as he starts to fuck you. The stretch and feeling of him stroking you from the inside makes you cry out. You realize momentarily who’s fucking you…who’s making you cum. The forbidden idea that the energy between you two could spark both anger and the most palpable lust you’ve ever felt makes you press back against him harder. “Oh there she is,” Vessel grunts out as he lands a sharp spank on your ass. And another.

“Ffffuck. Ag…again. Please.”

“You like that?” Spank. “Such a sweetheart for me.” Spank. “You feel so fucking good…” 

Your head feels fuzzy as his hands melt into your soft skin and his moans become higher pitched. More desperate. He’s saying your name. He’s cumming for you. 

𓍯𓂃

You’re getting in late from a girls night out. It’s unsurprising that the house is dark, but you can hear whatever video game Vessel is playing…and sounding like he’s about to rage quit. His back is to you as he’s hunched over on the couch.

“Ves….” A beat. “VES! Turn that down…or off, preferably,” you huff.

“Tsk yes, mum,” he says smartly, turning the game off and tossing the controller. He wants to be grumpy…but there you were, settling in his lap…in that fucking…emerald…dress. He puts his forehead to your chest and presses sweet little kisses onto it. “Welcome home, angel.”  No, roommates don’t have to be friends.

[cuzxai]

mine - nsfw

spencer reid x afab!reader

a/n: what harm can a little friendliness do when youre at a bar with your coworkers and boyfriend?did i fall off guys?💔

The bar hums with low music and clinking glasses, the kind of cozy place the BAU always seems to stumble into after wrapping a case out of town. It’s dim but warm, with wood-paneled walls and slightly sticky floors and the energy is that perfect mix of exhaustion and buzzed relief. You’re sitting near the end of a long table pushed together from smaller ones, knees touching Spencer’s under it—accidentally at first, then intentionally.

Emily’s to your left, halfway through a margarita and mid-story about a disaster Tinder date involving a magician and a live rabbit. “He said it was a ‘surprise element,’” she says, making air quotes. “I said I don’t want to date anyone who says the word ‘abracadabra’ in a sexual context.”

You snort into your drink. “Did he at least pull it out of a hat?”

“No. A fanny pack.” She shudders.

“Jesus,” Morgan mutters, leaning in across the table. “That’s not even the worst part. The real red flag was you agreeing to go out with a magician in the first place.”

“I was feeling adventurous!” Emily defends, throwing a napkin at him.

Hotch, surprisingly relaxed with a beer in hand and just shakes his head. “Remind me to check your judgment when we’re assigning interrogations.”

“Check your own, you’re the one who hired me,” she fires back, laughing. Conversation flows.

JJ’s talking about Henry’s newest obsession with dinosaurs, “He calls them ‘roars,’ which I think is honestly more accurate” and Garcia is showing you all a filtered picture of Sergio with tiny devil horns photoshopped on his head. And Spencer? He’s quiet beside you, fingers wrapped loosely around a glass of scotch he swore he didn’t like. His knee is still pressed to yours. You feel him glance at you every so often, like he wants to say something and isn’t sure how. Eventually, he does.

“I read a paper last week that said alcohol doesn’t actually lower your inhibitions,” he says, not looking at you. “It just impairs your ability to consider consequences.”

You raise an eyebrow, amused. “Is that your way of telling everyone you’re about to make a bad decision?”

His lips twitch into the barest smile. “No. Just… thinking out loud.”

Morgan leans in then, grinning. “Alright, y’all, I don’t know about you but my old man back is calling it a night.” A chorus of agreement follows—bags being gathered, jackets slung on, the check already halfway paid by Garcia who’s holding the receipt like a trophy.

“I think there’s still part of the tab open at the bar,” Spencer says, glancing around. Then he turns to you. “You wanna close it for me?”

You nod, taking his card and sliding out from the booth, smoothing your hands over your skirt. “Sure.” You don’t notice the way his gaze lingers on you a beat too long as you turn. Don’t see the flicker in his eyes when the bartender greets you with a smile that’s a little too friendly. At first, it’s all polite. Just a casual exchange—he confirms the card, prints the receipt. But then he makes a joke. Something about your drink choice.

“Classy and lethal,” he smiles, leaning on the bar like he has nowhere else to be. “That’s a rare combo.” You laugh. Just a little. Just enough to be polite.

You don’t realize how it looks. You’re still buzzed, still warm from the laughter with your team. You lean in slightly without meaning to, fingers brushing his when you sign the receipt. Across the bar Spencer’s still sitting at the table, arms crossed. His expression is unreadable. He watches you talk—sees how your lips part when you smile, how your weight shifts onto one hip, just the way it always does when you’re relaxed.

Morgan looks between the two of you, low whistle barely audible over the music. “Uh oh.”

Hotch doesn’t even turn. “Let it play out.”

“She’s just being nice,” JJ murmurs.

“Yeah,” Emily adds, “but look at Reid.”

He’s not fidgeting. Not rambling. He’s just… still. And that’s worse. You come back a minute later, receipt in hand and slide it across the table. “All set.”

“Thanks,” Spencer says. His voice is clipped. Short. His jaw tight as he stands and heads for the door. You fall into step behind him, suddenly hyper-aware of the silence. The others follow behind, a few trailing slower, probably already whispering. The ride back to the hotel is quiet. No one says a word. Spencer doesn’t even glance at you as he opens the door to the passenger side. And you? You sit there, heart thudding, as the air thickens around you like storm clouds gathering behind his eyes.

Because you know that silence means something’s coming. And whatever it is, it’s going to be loud when it finally breaks. You shift slightly in your seat, pulling your jacket tighter around yourself like it’ll shield you from the weight in the air. “Are you mad?” you finally ask. Quiet. Testing. He doesn’t answer right away. Doesn’t even blink. You almost think he won’t say anything at all—like he’s going to drive you both in silence all the way back to the hotel and just leave it at that. Let the tension rot between you.

“No,” he says. And it’s not convincing. Not even a little.

You blink at him, scoffing. “Okay. Great talk.” His fingers curl tighter.

“I’m not mad,” he says again, jaw stiff. “I’m just trying to process.”

“Process what?” His voice is low, sharp.

“Whether or not you were doing that to get a rise out of me.”

You stare at him. “Doing what?”

“The bartender, the laughing, the touching.” he says, eyes still forward.

“Oh my God,” you mutter, sitting back. “Are you serious right now?” Silence.

“Spencer. I wasn’t flirting. He made a comment. I was being polite.” He doesn’t answer. “You told me to close the tab,” you continue, voice rising a little. “What did you expect me to do? Glare at him?”

“I expected you not to smile like that,” he says tightly. “Not with him.” You open your mouth then close it. Because the way he says it—the way his voice drops on him—that’s not jealousy. That’s something deeper. Something territorial.

“You’re drunk,” you say quietly.

He exhales through his nose. “I’m observant.”

“Don’t profile me.” You stare out the window for the rest of the drive. The air between you crackles. It’s furious. It’s quiet. And it’s not done. When he pulls into the parking lot of your house, he doesn’t say a word. Just parks and climbs out, walking toward the entrance without waiting for you to catch up. You follow anyway. Neither of you say a thing as you move through the house.

Only when you reach your room—when the hallway ends ahead, empty and quiet—does Spencer finally speak. “I’m not mad,” he says again, voice low.

You stop walking. “Then what are you?”

He turns to you. His eyes are dark. Heavy. “I’m not used to feeling like I could lose something I haven’t even let myself want.”

It knocks the breath out of you. Just a little. “Spence—”

“I need to get this out of my system,” he says, stepping forward. He’s close. Closer than he’s been all night. His voice drops lower. “You’re mine.” Then he’s stepping into your guys’ room. And this time—this time it’s you who follows in silence.

You don’t even make it past the doorway. The second the lock clicks behind you, he turns—grabs you, pulls you in and kisses you like he’s trying to make up for the twenty minutes you spent with someone else. You gasp against his mouth, hands scrambling for balance as your back hits the door. “Spence—” You barely get the word out before his mouth is trailing down your jaw, then your throat.

“This is what you wanted?” he murmurs against your skin. “You wanted me to watch you flirt with him?”

You grab a fistful of his shirt. “I wasn’t flirting.” He scoffs, low and bitter.

“You were laughing at everything he said. Leaning in like he was saying something so fucking profound.” You swallow, breath catching as he shoves your jacket off and it hits the floor. His hands are on your waist, then your ass, dragging you toward him. You feel the hard line of his cock through his slacks, pressed flush to your stomach.

“It didn’t mean anything,” you whisper but your voice is shaky, already caving to the heat in his eyes.

“Sure didn’t look like that,” he mutters. Then he spins you around.

Your hands splay against the door, your chest pressed to it as he kicks your feet apart. His hand slides between your shoulder blades, pinning you there. “You looked happy,” he says, breath hot against your neck. “So tell me—why’d you look happier when you realized I was watching?”

You make a sound. It’s half a moan, half a gasp as he rolls his hips against your ass, slow, grinding, teasing. “Spencer—”

“No,” he cuts you off. “You don’t get to talk your way out of this.” His hand pushes under your waistband, fingers sliding past your underwear. He groans when he feels how wet you are. “Jesus,” he mutters. “You’re soaked.”

“I told you it wasn’t anything,” you whimper.

“Then why’re you like this?” He curls two fingers inside you, slow and firm. “Why’d watching me lose my mind turn you on?” You moan—head dropping forward, legs going soft. His other hand comes around and grabs your throat, squeezing softly. His thumb strokes over your pulse point then down, dragging along your collarbone. You grind back against him instinctively, needing more friction but he pulls his fingers free, slick and slow. He groans. “You taste so good.”

You whimper. “Spence…”

“I’m not gonna let you off easy,” he breathes. “You don’t get to play innocent and then fall apart the second I touch you.” He undoes his belt—slow and loud, letting the sound echo. You twitch at the sound, pressing harder into the door. He pulls his cock out, presses the head against your entrance but doesn’t push in. “You want it?” he asks.

“Yes,” you gasp. “Please, I do.”

He doesn’t move. “Then say you’re mine.”

You let out a broken moan. “Spencer.”

“Say it.” He breathes

“I’m yours. I’m yours, Spencer—” And then he pushes in, slow and deep, with a groan like he’s waited all night for this. Your eyes squeeze shut. The stretch is perfect. He doesn’t move at first, just holds you there—pressed full of him, his hand still loosely at your throat, his hips locked against yours.

You let out a choked whimper. He pulls back slowly, then thrusts in hard enough to knock the air from your lungs. You cry out, head lolling back onto his shoulder. He bites your neck, open-mouthed and rough. You try to speak, try to apologize but all that comes out is a breathy moan. “Shhh,” he soothes, voice dark. “You don’t need to say anything. Just take it.” He keeps fucking into you—long strokes, steady rhythm. Not fast, not yet. Just deep. Just punishing enough.

He leans in close, breath heavy in your ear. “You know,” he murmurs, “sex increases dopamine and oxytocin levels. It heightens emotional memory. Which means you’re going to remember every single second of this.” You shudder, toes curling, thighs shaking. “That’s why I’m not letting you finish,” he says, biting your shoulder. “Not soon. I want this burned into your fucking brain.” You let out a broken moan, desperate for more. For release. For anything. And then he pulls out. You whimper at the loss, hips twitching back toward him, chasing it. But he doesn’t give in. He steps back, pants open, eyes dark, jaw clenched.

He doesn’t give you time to recover from the loss of him. The second you shift to face him, his hands are on your hips again, walking you backwards—step by step—until the backs of your knees hit the mattress. “You think you get to do whatever you want,” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours, “and I won’t do something about it?”

Then he pushes you—not hard but firm—until you fall back onto the bed with a breathy sound. The mattress bounces slightly under you, your body catching on the sheets as he moves between your legs without hesitation. You reach for him, maybe to pull him back on top of you but he shakes his head once. Then, very deliberately, he sinks to his knees at the edge of the bed. “No. You don’t get to call the shots right now.”

Your thighs are still spread from earlier, underwear long discarded somewhere in the room. His hands slide up the inside of your legs, fingers grazing your skin like he’s testing the weight of your want.

“Baby,” he says, his voice going a little dreamy—dangerous, like the kind of tangent he only slips into when he’s in full profiler mode, “there’s this study about anticipation and the way it activates the caudate nucleus. It’s the same part of the brain that lights up during addiction.” He presses an open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh. Then another, slower this time, higher.

“You’re saying I’m an addiction now?” you breathe out, chest rising and falling fast.

“I’m saying,” he murmurs, lips brushing just barely over your folds, “that I’ve been getting high off your reactions all night. And I’m not even close to done.”

You let out a gasp as his tongue finally drags through your slick folds—slow and smooth, like he’s savoring it. Your back arches immediately, hands clutching the comforter. He groans softly at the taste, his fingers tightening on your thighs. “God,” he mumbles, already going in again, firmer this time. “I should’ve done this hours ago.” You try to speak, try to reply with something smug or sarcastic but the second he wraps his mouth around you, it’s gone—your brain blanks, your legs jerk and all you can do is moan.

He’s methodical with it—of course he is. Spencer Reid with a vendetta and something to prove and he’s proving it with every flick of his tongue, every shift of his jaw. He pulls back just enough to say, “You know I could explain exactly what I’m doing to your nerve endings. How I’m stimulating the pudendal nerve to maximize your orgasmic response.”

You let out a breathless laugh, even as your hips buck toward him. “You’re such a fucking nerd—”

He growls against you and the vibration sends a shock straight through you. “You love it,” he mutters, before sucking hard again. You cry out, loud and open and his hands move to pin your hips to the bed—holding you still, making you take every second of it.

He alternates between teasing flicks and deep, slow licks that leave you shaking. You can feel how wet you are, dripping down your thighs, soaking into the sheets. He’s moaning against you like he’s starved, like this is something he’s been dreaming about since the second you met but of course he stops. You lift your head with eyes glassy and parted lips. “What—“

“I want to be inside you when you come.” He’s already climbing onto the bed, already shoving his pants down enough to free himself again. You see the dark flush on his face, his pupils blown, the sheen of sweat on his skin. His cock is red and hard, already leaking at the tip. He drags you further up the bed, flipping you onto your stomach before you can even react.

“Oh my God—”

“Don’t act surprised,” he grits out, lining himself up again. “You knew what you were doing tonight.” You let out a broken moan into the pillow as he thrusts in again—hard, deep, the angle even better from behind. His hand snakes under your torso, presses to your stomach as he pulls your hips back into his. “Fuck, you feel good like this,” he mutters. “You feel—God—you feel made for me.” You whimper, arching into him.

“I’m not stopping until you scream,” he growls, voice low and hot against your shoulder. “I want the whole fucking building to hear how good I fuck you.” Your body is barely able to keep up with his pace. Spencer’s thrusts are fast, brutal, each one pushing you closer to the edge and yet you can barely register it because your head’s still spinning from the way he’s fucking you. His fingers grip your hips, pulling you back against him, grinding deeper as his cock slides in and out of you. Each stroke feels like a reminder of how far gone you’ve both become and you can’t help but meet him halfway, pushing your ass back onto him, inviting him to go harder. To take more. “Fuck, you’re so damn tight,” Spencer growls, his breath hot and uneven against your back. “I’m never going to get enough of this. I’ve been dying for this all night. I’ve wanted to feel you like this all night—fucking you just the way you deserve.”

His hand snakes between your legs, fingers pressing against your clit roughly. It’s so much, so overwhelming, and you whimper, unable to stop yourself from clenching around him. “Yeah,” Spencer says, his voice dripping with that controlling edge. “Squeeze me, baby. Squeeze around me like you’re begging for it.”

Your breath catches in your throat when you try to respond as he drives in deep, his pelvis slapping against your ass. The sound of it echoes in the room, each hit of his body against yours pushing you further into a daze. “You love this, don’t you?” His voice drops, like he’s not even out of breath. “You love the way I fuck you. You’re made for me. Made for this.” You feel his fingers tighten on your hips, digging in hard enough to leave marks as he holds you in place. It’s like he owns you in this moment—like everything you are is his. The thought only makes you wetter, makes you want to prove him right, to show him just how much you need him. You nod, almost desperately wanting to please him, to let him know you’re completely his.

“Yes,” you manage to get out, your voice a broken whimper. “I love it.”

“That’s right,” Spencer murmurs. “You’re mine. Just mine. Nobody fucks you like this. Not that bartender. Not anyone. Only me.” The way he says it, his voice low, dripping with authority—it makes you gasp, makes you crave more. The dominance in his tone hits something deep inside you, a switch that’s only been waiting for him to flip. Spencer pulls your hair, yanking your head back until your back arches and you cry out at the sting, your body forced to meet his thrusts even more forcefully. His cock fills you, stretching you and it’s all you can do to hang on as he drives into you with a brutal rhythm.

“You want me to ruin you?” Spencer grins darkly, his breath ragged in your ear. “Want me to make you mine? Want me to fuck you so hard you can’t walk straight tomorrow?”

“Yes,” you whisper, desperate, your hands clawing at the sheets beneath you. “I want it. I want you.”

His fingers grip your throat and squeezes, a reminder of his control. Of how much power he holds over you, how much he fucking owns you. “Tell me who you belong to,” he demands and you’re so far gone, so desperate for him that you don’t even hesitate.

“You,” you say breathlessly, barely able to get the words out. “I belong to you, Spencer.”

“Good girl,” he says, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “That’s all you had to say.” He shifts his angle, thrusting deeper. The shift makes you see stars, the air catching in your lungs as your body jerks forward with each punishing thrust. You’re soaked and you don’t know if it’s from your own arousal or the fact that Spencer’s fingers are still working your clit, pushing you closer to the edge, making everything burn.

“Made for me,” Spencer grunts, his voice darker now. “Every inch of you. You love being fucked like this. You love knowing nobody else gets to have you like I do.”

“Fuck,” you whimper. “Yes. Yes, only you.”

His hand pulls you up slightly, just enough for your chest to meet his. He’s still fucking you relentlessly from behind, every thrust calculated, each one punctuated by his dirty words.“You’re such a fucking mess for me, I can feel it,” he says, his voice rough as he watches you collapse back into the pillows. “Can’t even talk straight anymore. Can’t even think straight. All you can do is beg for me.”

“Please,” you breathe, on the edge of something, your fingers digging into the sheets as you push back against him. “Please let me come.”

He doesn’t answer at first, just keeps fucking you with that maddening rhythm, his cock hitting so deep you’re seeing stars. But then he finally speaks. “You can come,” he murmurs. “All over my cock.”

Your entire body tightens at his words and he picks up his pace. You can’t hold back anymore. You don’t even care that you’re so close to the edge—you just need him to finish it. You need him to make you come. Spencer’s grip on your hair tightens as he slams into you once more, making you scream as your orgasm crashes over you. It’s intense, almost violent and you come undone, your body jerking as he fucks you through it, using your body as his own personal release.

“Good girl,” he breathes, voice barely a whisper in your ear as you shake beneath him, still trying to catch your breath. You feel the last thrusts and finally, he comes inside you. He’s groaning into the crook of your neck as his body shudders against yours. For a moment, the only sounds are his breath and the steady beat of your heart, both of you slowly coming down from the high. He’s whispering “Mine.” over and over again, his high slowly leaving him.