#the colors... the intrigue... the tension...

[rkive-joonie]

"On your hands and knees" | Jeon × Y/n x Kim

| Jungkook x Y/N x Taehyung |

warnings/tags — 18+, explicit smut,emotional and possessive love and intimacy, he is literally so obsessed with her, oral sex (f. receiving), making out, hickies/marking,penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, missionary position, fingering, rough and slow paced sex, emotional sex,

Wordcount: 2.4k

"You're not going to believe what happened," Jungkook said, his eyes gleaming with excitement as he leaned over the counter to whisper into my ear. His warm breath tickled my skin, sending a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with the chilly evening air.

"What's going on?" I asked, playing along with his game, my curiosity piqued.

"Remember that nightclub we talked about?" Jungkook replied, a sly smile playing at the corners of his lips. "The one with the... private rooms?"

"Yeah, what about it?" I inquired, my heart racing slightly as I tried to keep my voice even.

"Well, Taehyung and I went there last night," he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "And we had a little fun."

The air between us grew thick with tension as he spoke, and I couldn't help but feel a mix of jealousy and arousal. I had always been intrigued by the idea of BDSM, but never had the courage to explore it. Now, here was Jungkook, laying it all out for me like a secret I wasn't supposed to know.

"What did you guys do?" I probed, my voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook's smile widened, his eyes darkening with desire as he leaned closer. "Why don't I show you instead?"

Without waiting for my response, he grabbed my hand and pulled me through the crowded street, his grip firm and unyielding. The neon lights of the city reflected off his piercings, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across his face. We arrived at the nondescript building, the heavy bass of music thumping through the walls.

As we entered, the smell of leather and musk filled the air. The club was dimly lit, with the occasional flicker of candlelight casting eerie shadows across the walls. People in various stages of undress mingled freely, the sounds of whips cracking and moans echoing through the space.

"This is your chance," Jungkook murmured, his hand sliding down to grip my wrist. "Do you trust me?"

I nodded, my breath hitching in anticipation. This was it. The moment I had unknowingly been waiting for.

He led me down a narrow hallway, past velvet-covered doors with signs that read "Private." We stopped in front of one, and Jungkook produced a key with a flourish.

"Are you ready, Y/N?" he asked, his voice dropping to a seductive purr.

I nodded again, unable to find my voice as he unlocked the door and pushed it open, revealing a dimly lit room with a large, inviting bed in the center. Taehyung was already there, lounging on the bed, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that made my knees weak.

They both smirked at my reaction, and I realized that this was no ordinary night out. This was going to be an adventure I would never forget.

Jungkook guided me over to the bed, his hand warm and reassuring in mine. He sat me down, his strong hands gently pushing me back into the softness of the mattress. Taehyung leaned in, his breath hot on my neck as he began to unbutton my shirt, one by one, revealing my collarbone.

"We're going to take this slow," Jungkook said, his eyes never leaving mine. "But if you ever feel uncomfortable, just say the safe word, and we'll stop."

I nodded, my heart racing with excitement. I had always been drawn to the idea of submitting to someone else's desires, and now, here I was, with two gorgeous men ready to fulfill my darkest fantasies.

Taehyung's hands were everywhere, tracing patterns on my skin that sent waves of pleasure coursing through my body. He kissed me softly, his tongue teasing mine as he removed my shirt, leaving me in just my bra and jeans. Jungkook's eyes raked over me, a look of pure hunger in them that made me feel like the most desired person in the world.

He moved closer, his hand sliding up my thigh to unbutton my jeans. His touch was firm, but gentle, as he exposed my skin to the cool air of the room. My breath grew ragged as he slid them down my legs, taking my shoes and socks off in the process. I was now in just my underwear, feeling vulnerable yet incredibly

aroused by the situation.

Jungkook took the lead, attaching soft leather cuffs to my wrists and ankles. The feeling of restriction was exhilarating, a rush of adrenaline that made me want to beg for more. Taehyung watched with a smoldering gaze, his eyes lingering on my exposed flesh. They exchanged a knowing look before Jungkook attached the cuffs to the four bedposts, spreading my body out for their viewing pleasure.

The room was filled with the sound of my own panting as they began to explore my body with their hands and mouths. Jungkook's teeth grazed my nipples through the lace of my bra, sending bolts of pleasure to my core. Taehyung kissed a trail down my stomach, his tongue flicking over my navel before

continuing lower.

"Do you like this, baby?" Jungkook whispered in my ear, his teeth tugging at my earlobe.

"Y-yes," I gasped, unable to form coherent sentences

.

Taehyung's mouth was now on my panties, his warm breath making them wetter by the second. He slid them down, exposing me completely. His tongue traced the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, teasing, taunting, making me squirm with need.

They worked in perfect harmony, each knowing exactly what to do to drive me wild. Jungkook removed my bra, his lips immediately capturing one of my nipples while his hand played with the other. Taehyung's mouth found my clit, his tongue swirling around it in a tantalizing dance that had me arching off the bed.

Their movements grew more urgent as I neared the edge, my body tightening with every stroke. They watched me intently, reading my reactions like a book, making sure I was enjoying every second of it. And I was. The pleasure was intense, like nothing I had ever felt before.

As I reached my climax, I screamed their names, my body convulsing with the force of it. They didn't stop, though, pushing me further, making me come undone in a way I never thought possible.

Once I had caught my breath, they untied me, and we moved to the next stage of our night together. The anticipation was killing me, but I knew it would be worth it. This was just the beginning of an unforgettable experience that would change me forever.

Jungkook handed me a blindfold, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Trust us," he said, his voice low and commanding. I nodded, eager to see what they had in store for me. As the soft material covered my eyes, the world around me

was plunged into darkness.

Suddenly, my senses were heightened. Every sound was amplified, and I could feel the heat of their bodies as they moved closer to me. Taehyung's hand brushed against my bare skin, sending goosebumps down my spine. Jungkook's fingers traced a path along my collarbone, making me shiver with anticipation.

The bed dipped as one of them straddled my hips, their weight pressing me down into the mattress. I could feel the outline of their erection through their pants, and I moaned, desperate for them to take the next step. The air was thick with lust, and I could feel it coating my skin like a fine mist.

They didn't disappoint. Jungkook's hand slid down my stomach, his fingers slipping into my panties to stroke my wetness. His other hand found my throat, squeezing gently as he began to kiss me again, his tongue delving deep into my mouth. Meanwhile, Taehyung's mouth was on my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin as he kissed and nipped his way down to my chest.

Their hands and mouths were everywhere, exploring and claiming every inch of me. They moved together like a well-oiled machine, each touch and kiss calculated to drive me closer to the edge. I was lost in a sea of sensation, unable to think about anything but the two of them and the way they were making me feel.

With a sudden jerk, Jungkook removed my blindfold, and I was met with the sight of them both, fully naked, their erections standing proudly before me. They looked like gods in the candlelight, their muscles rippling as they moved closer.

"We're going to take you now," Jungkook murmured, his voice thick with desire. "But remember, you're in control."

I nodded, my voice a breathy whisper. "I trust you."

And with those words, I gave them the power to do whatever they wanted to me.

The rest of the night was a blur of pleasure and pain, a dance of dominance and submission that I had never experienced before. They pushed me to my limits and beyond, each touch and sensation more intense than the last. I was theirs, to do with as they pleased, and I reveled in it.

Their hands were rough and demanding, leaving marks on my skin that would be there for days. But it was the gentle caresses and whispered words of encouragement that truly undid me. They knew exactly how to balance the two, how to keep me on the precipice of ecstasy without sending me over until they were ready.

Taehyung's cock slid into me, filling me completely. I moaned as he began to thrust, slow and steady, his eyes locked with mine. Jungkook knelt beside the bed, stroking himself as he watched us, his eyes dark with lust.

"Look at her," he said to Taehyung, his voice husky. "So beautiful when she's being fucked."

I blushed, my cheeks heating up despite the cool air. The words should have made me feel degraded, but instead, they filled me with a strange sense of pride. I was beautiful, and they were showing me just how much they wanted me.

Taehyung leaned down, capturing my mouth in a bruising kiss as he picked up the pace. Jungkook's hand reached out to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing against my bottom lip. I could feel his eyes on me, drinking in every expression that played across my face.

Suddenly, he was there too, his cock pressing against my ass. He slicked it with lube before pushing in, filling me to the brim. The feeling was overwhelming, the pressure and the stretch almost too much. But they moved together, their rhythm matching perfectly, and soon the pain morphed into something else entirely.

They moved as one, their bodies in sync with mine. Each thrust brought a new wave of pleasure, and I could feel myself getting closer to the edge again. My breath came in gasps and moans, their names falling from my lips in a desperate litany.

And then, just when I thought I couldn't take anymore, they switched places. Jungkook took his place between my legs, his cock sliding in with ease thanks to Taehyung's preparation. Taehyung's mouth was now on my neck, his teeth scraping along my skin as he whispered sweet nothings into my ear.

Their hands were everywhere, touching, squeezing, and teasing. They brought me to the brink over and over again, only to pull back and start the slow build-up once more. It was torturous, but in the best possible way.

Finally, when I thought I couldn't take it anymore, they both pushed deep and held still, their eyes meeting over my body. And with a roar, they came together, their hot seed filling me up.

We collapsed onto the bed, our bodies slick with sweat and lust. They held me close, whispering sweet nothings into my ear, their kisses gentle and reverent.

For a moment, we just laid there, our hearts pounding in unison. Then, with a mischievous smile, Jungkook whispered, "Ready for round two?"

And despite the exhaustion that was already setting in, I couldn't help but nod eagerly. This was just the beginning of a night I would never forget.

Jungkook and Taehyung pulled away from me, their bodies glistening in the candlelight. They shared a smug smile before turning their attention back to me, their eyes gleaming with a mix of desire and challenge.

"On your hands and knees," Jungkook ordered, his voice firm and authoritative.

I complied without hesitation, the thrill of submission coursing through my veins. As I got into position, I felt a hand at the small of my back, guiding me down until my cheek was pressed against the cool fabric of the bed.

Taehyung's hand caressed my ass, his fingers slipping between my cheeks to tease my already stretched hole. He applied a bit more lube, the coldness of it making me gasp before he slid one digit in, then two. Jungkook's cock was already at my entrance, the head nudging insistently against my slick folds.

They didn't wait for me to adjust, instead pushing into me simultaneously. The sensation was overwhelming, and I moaned into the pillow, my body trying to accommodate both their sizes. They moved together again, their strokes long and deep, filling me completely.

The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin and my own cries of pleasure. They were relentless, pushing me to the edge again and again. And when I thought I couldn't take anymore, they would slow down, only to build back up to that delicious peak.

My orgasm washed over me like a tidal wave, my body shaking with the force of it. They followed soon after, their cocks pulsing deep inside me as they filled me up once more

.

As we all caught our breath, they helped me off the bed, their hands gentle as they cleaned me up. They led me to the bathroom, where they washed me with warm water and soft cloths. The care and tenderness in their touches was stark contrast to the roughness of the sex we'd just had.

We returned to the bed, our bodies tangled together as we lay there, basking in the afterglow. Jungkook's arms were around me, holding me close as Taehyung traced patterns on my skin with his fingertips.

We talked about our limits, our desires, and what we had just shared. They assured me that this was just the start of our exploration together, that they would always be there to guide and support me.

As I drifted off to sleep, my body sated and my mind racing with the possibilities of what was to come, I knew that I had found something special with these two men. Something that would change me in ways I couldn't even begin to imagine.

But for now, all I could do was lay there, feeling them both beside me, and know that I was exactly where I was meant to be.

[s0dium]

Creep

Warnings: Creepy/stalker behavior, breeding kink, pussydrunk behavior, cumflation, stomach bulge, subspace, premature ejaculation, orgasms

~

You know it's wrong, so wrong to enjoy the attention of a creep.

At least, that's what people call him. But through the snickers and sidelong glances that surround him, there's something about him that intrigues you, attracts you, something you can't seem to get out of your head.

It starts off small, letting him eye you from across the room and flashing him a small smile. Then you notice he starts to get bolder, more confident in his advances. As the days pass, his presence becomes a constant in your routine. He waits for you after class, catches you alone in elevators, leans in closer during conversations, and even starts to find excuses to touch your arm or shoulder. Each interaction feels like a challenge, a test of boundaries that seems he's all too willing to push.

In the beginning, you almost listen to the unease flickering in the back of your mind, warning that maybe you are playing with fire. But as the tension builds, you find your resolve slowly melting, small touches on your arm turn grazes against your ass and the quick glances evolve into him blatantly checking you out.

So only you can be blamed for the situation you're in right now. Only you can be blamed for letting it get like this.

His hips snapped so fast you can't think, you can breathe. Pleasure courses through your body in electric flesh arrows and you could feel your pussy clench around his length in a futile attempt to adjust for his massive size. How could a creep like him be so big? Jesus, you could feel his mushroom tip press against your cervix every time he slammed into you. Countless loads of cum dripped from where you two were connected onto the white sheets below. At any given time he'd blow his load right into you and without much of a stutter fuck the liquid back into you, until he reached his high again and started the cycle over again.

"Mine," he grunts out, his breath hot against your cheek from the brutal mating press he has you in. The bed shook with every thrust, the head board banging against the wall from the way your cervix was getting absolutely abused. The friction, the way he filled you up so perfectly, his hot skin against yours, it was too much, too overwhelming, and your brain couldn't handle the pleasure. You could feel the euphoria absorb your body, making your toes curl and uncurl from the sheer pleasure.

"G-gonna cum in you again" He says through a moan, peppering kissed along your jaw. "Gonna fill you up, make you feel so so good." He doesn’t slow his movement, instead picking up one of your legs and throwing it over his shoulder so he can reach even deeper. He places his other hand on your belly, rubbing your skin with his thumb.

"You feel me?" He coos, pressing down on your stomach, intensifying the pressure of his cock inside you and making your moans grow even louder.

"I can feel you, I can feel you squeezing me, feel so good, better than my fist." He chuckles and grabs your throat, squeezing it so your brain goes fuzzy with the slight light of oxygen.

His breathing becomes jagged and with a soft whimper followed by a silent "oh-fu", he blows his load into your battered pussy. There is no warning when cums into you, only the slight stutter of his hips that does nothing to deter his brutal pace. You are soaked down there, his sticky cum leaking out of you as he pushes into you over and over again. But you couldn't be bothered to look right now, you couldn’t open your eyes and ignore the colors you were seeing behind your eyelids. Everything was good - so, so, so good. Your skin was buzzing, mind cloudy, and the only thing you could focus on was the throbbing that was taking over your body.

"You gonna cum?" He coos into your ear, punctuating his words with an extra sharp thrust. "Cum for me, please." 

As if on cue, you gasp, and let your orgasm wash over you. He doesn't stop his movements, instead, he fucks you through your orgasm until your crying for him to stop.

"Not gonna stop, gonna fuck you until m' shooting blanks okay?"

SHIGARAKI, YUUTA OKKATSU, L LAWLIET, SHINSO, KENMA, GYUTARO

[rafayelxsylusho]

How do the LADS men react when they see you without panties under your skirt/dress Part 2 (Sylus)

TW:SMUT

Notes: First time bj for our 🐦‍⬛

Zayne and Xavier will be in part 3

Part 1 (Caleb) (Rafayel) here

Sylus's eyes darken with hunger as they rake over your form, taking in every exquisite detail. The way the rich crimson fabric clings to your curves is sinful, a delicious temptation. He feels an urge to reach out and touch, to confirm that you are indeed real and not just a dream.

"Kitten," he murmurs, his low voice rough with restrained desire. "You look...ravishing. That dress, it's as if it was made for you, designed to drive a man to the brink of madness." He takes another step closer, invading your personal space, the heat of his body radiating against your skin.

His gaze locks with yours, and in the depths of his eyes you see the reflection of your own face, flushed and beautiful. "I must say, I'm looking forward to seeing you out of it even more," Sylus confesses with a smirk, his intentions clear. "But for now, let's not keep our reservations waiting." He offers you his arm, an invitation for you to take, and a silent promise of the pleasures to come. "Shall we, sweetie?"

As Sylus leads you into the restaurant, the hostess greets him with a nod and a flirtatious smile. "Your table is ready, Mr. Sylus. Right this way, sir."

The restaurant is filled with the soft murmur of conversations and the clink of glasses. You pause, gently but firmly removing your hand from Sylus's grasp. His brow furrows slightly at the sudden separation, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. You meet his gaze, your own expression soft.

You take a step back, putting a little distance between your bodies, and allow your gaze to travel the length of Sylus's impeccable outfit. From his polished black dress shoes, up the line of his tailored trousers, over his crisp white dress shirt, and finally settling on his tie a deep, rich red that nearly matches the shade of your dress.

"You've forgotten one small detail," you tell him, a slight smile playing at the corners of your mouth.

He watches, intrigued and mildly amused, as you rummage through your purse and take out a small, delicate piece of cloth. His gaze follows the movement of your hand as you fist the fabric and lean in towards him. With a playful smile, you reach into the breast pocket of Sylus's dress shirt and tuck the cloth inside. As you do so, your fingers brush against his chest, feeling the firmness of his muscles even through the thin fabric of his shirt. Sylus inhales sharply at the contact, his heart rate quickening beneath your touch.

You step back and admire your handiwork, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "There," you say with a satisfied nod. "Perfect."

Sylus's fingers brush against the delicate lace hidden in his breast pocket, and in that instant, his expression transforms. His eyes widen, and a deep crimson blush spreads across his cheeks, a rare display of color that you've never seen before. For a moment, he appears almost flustered, caught off guard by your bold and unexpected gesture.

Recognition dawns on his face, and his lips part slightly in surprise before curling into a slow, sensual smile. His gaze locks with yours, and there's a new intensity burning in those eyes, a mix of admiration, arousal, and a dark promise of retribution.

The hostess clears her throat, "Your table is ready, Mr. Sylus," she repeats and gestures towards a set of ornate double doors, beyond which lies your private dining area.

Sylus's gaze remains locked with yours for a heartbeat longer, the air between you crackling with unspoken tension. Then, with a smile, he turns to the hostess and nods. "Of course"

As the hostess led you both through the bustling dining room, Sylus placed a possessive hand at the small of your back, guiding you through the maze of tables. His touch left a trail of heat through the thin fabric of your dress, a silent reminder of the intimate secret tucked away in his pocket.

Upon reaching your table, Sylus held your chair for you. As you took your seat, he leaned in close, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "Clever girl," he whispered, his voice is low and it sent shivers down your spine. "You'll pay for that little stunt later.

As the waiter took your orders, Sylus leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving yours. He listened intently as you browsed the menu, occasionally making a suggestion or offering his own preferences. Throughout the conversation, you couldn't shake the feeling of his gaze on you, intense and penetrating, as if he were trying to decipher the secrets hidden behind your eyes.

You thought the panties had been forgotten, a fleeting moment of playful mischief between the two of you. But Sylus would occasionally reach into his pocket and run his fingers over the delicate lace, a smile playing on his lips.

Just when you had convinced yourself that the panties were nothing more than a distant memory, Sylus leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, and fixed you with a penetrating stare.

"I must say," he began, his voice a low murmur, "your little gift has been a pleasant distraction. But I haven't forgotten our earlier conversation. And I promise you..." Here he paused, letting the anticipation build. "I intend to make you pay in the most exquisite way imaginable." His eyes glinted with a dark, sensual promise, and you felt a flutter of anticipation in the pit of your stomach. The evening was still young, and Sylus had already made it clear that he intended to take it in a direction that would leave you breathless and craving more.

Just then, the waiter arrived with your dinner, breaking the moment between you. As the aroma of the gourmet dishes wafted up to your nostrils, Sylus leaned back in his chair, a grin playing on his lips.

"Bon appétit," he murmured, raising his glass in a toast. "To new experiences and old desires."

Sylus watched you intently as you reached for your fork, ready to begin your meal. Just as you were about to take your first bite, he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low, commanding whisper.

"Get on your knees," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for disobedience. His crimson eyes bore into yours, a dark intensity smoldering in their depths. You blinked in surprise, your fork hovering over your plate. For a moment, you were certain you had misheard him. Surely he couldn't mean... here? Now?

But the intensity in Sylus's gaze confirmed that he was indeed serious. He watched you expectantly, a dark smile playing on his lips as he waited. His hand tightened around the stem of his wine glass, the crystal glinting under the soft glow of the candlelight. 

"I thought you wanted to play, kitten," he murmured, a hint of challenge in his voice. "Or have you already grown tired of our little game?" His hand drifted to his pocket, fingers brushing against the lace hidden within. A silent reminder of your earlier boldness, and the consequences that would surely follow.

Sylus noticed your nervous glance around the dining room, a flicker of uncertainty in your eyes. He could see the wheels turning in your mind, the internal debate as you weighed the risks and rewards of obeying his bold command. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, a hint of dark amusement in his eyes. He knew all too well the layout of this exclusive restaurant, had ensured that this very table was positioned in a secluded area, hidden from prying eyes.

He could have put your mind at ease, could have whispered a reassurance that no one would witness to your obedience. But Sylus held his tongue, allowing the uncertainty to linger, to add a thrilling edge to the power dynamics at play. Instead, he simply raised an eyebrow, a silent challenge in the arch of his brow. "Well?" he murmured, "Are you going to keep me waiting?"

His hand moved to his lap, fingers splaying across the fabric of his trousers. A silent invitation, a promise of rewards to come if you dared to be bold.

"Show me you can follow orders," his eyes glinting with a hungry, anticipatory light. "Be a good girl, now. On your knees."

Sylus watched as you slipped down from your chair, disappearing beneath the white tablecloth. He felt your fingers at his belt, the leather strap cool against your skin as you began to undo the buckle.

Throughout it all, Sylus maintained an air of nonchalance, acting as if nothing out of the ordinary were happening. He cut into his steak with precise, measured strokes of his knife and fork, bringing the tender meat to his lips. The rich, savory aroma wafted up to his nostrils as he chewed, a flicker of appreciation in his expression.

All the while, he could feel your trembling fingers working at his trousers, the zipper lowering with a soft hiss. He had to bite back a smile, the contrast of your nervousness and his outward composure a delicious contradiction that served to heighten his arousal.

Sylus took a sip of his wine. The alcohol burned a pleasant trail down his throat, adding a new dimension to the heightened sensations he was experiencing.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the clink of his silverware against the plate. "You're doing well."

He could feel your warm breath ghosting over his now exposed skin. The anticipation was maddening, the wait for your touch almost unbearable. But Sylus was a patient man, and he intended to draw out this moment, to savor every second of his newfound control over you.

Sylus's eyes met yours as you emerged from beneath the tablecloth, your face flushed and your lips parted in anticipation. He paused, his fork hovering midway to his mouth, as he took in the sight of you kneeling before him, your expression a mix of nervousness and desire.

For a moment, Sylus simply stared, drinking in the exquisite sight of you, your hair tumbling around your shoulders, your skin glowing in the candlelight, and your eyes wide and trusting as they gazed up at him. Then, slowly, he lowered his fork back to his plate, his gaze never leaving yours.

As you leaned in, your breath warm and soft against his skin, Sylus felt a surge of anticipation that sent a jolt of electricity through his body. He watched, his heart pounding in his chest, as your lips parted and you pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of his cock.

A low, groan rumbled in his throat as your mouth made contact with his flesh. The sensation of your soft lips against him was exquisite. He had to resist the urge to tangle his fingers in your hair, to guide you further and demand more from your inexperienced mouth.

Instead, Sylus forced himself to maintain an air of composure, even as he felt his body responding to your tentative touch. "Good girl," he praised, his voice a low, approving murmur. "Such a good, obedient girl you are."

He took another sip of his wine, he could feel the heat of your mouth, the way your tongue flicked out to explore his tip with curiosity.

"More," he commanded softly, "Give me more, kitten. Show me what that pretty mouth can do."

Sylus took another bite of his steak as he felt your tongue begin to explore his length. He could feel the way your lips and tongue mapped every ridge and vein, your inexperienced touches igniting a hunger that threatened to consume him. The scrape of your teeth against his skin, the wet heat of your mouth enveloping him, the gentle pressure of your hand stroking what you couldn't take in, it was all serving to drive him to new heights of arousal.

And yet, despite the intense sensations you were evoking in him, Sylus maintained an appearance of calm indifference. He continued to cut and savor his steak, bringing each piece to his lips with grace.

His eyes flicked down to meet yours as you glanced up at him, a glimmer of amusement in his crimson gaze as he took in your furrowed brow. He could see the confusion, the uncertainty in your expression, and he had to bite back a smirk.

"You're doing wonderfully, sweetie" he murmured, his voice a low, soothing rumble. "Don't stop now. Take more of me into that sweet little mouth of yours." He could feel your hesitation, the way your grip tightened on his thighs as you leaned in further. "Yes, just like that."

He shifted in his seat, a subtle movement that brought him closer to your kneeling form. The tablecloth rustled, a whisper of fabric against fabric, as Sylus allowed his thighs to part just a little more, giving you further access to his most intimate area.

"Don't neglect a single detail," he whispered "I want to feel that pretty mouth worshipping every part of my cock until I'm seared into your memory." Sylus raised an eyebrow, a silent challenge in his gaze. "Think you can handle that, kitten?" he taunted softly. "Or do you need a little more... encouragement?"

He could see the determination in your eyes as you gazed up at him, a glimmer of defiance in your expression. It was clear you were intent on proving yourself, on showing him the depths of your dedication to his pleasure. And Sylus was more than happy to let you try.

As your kisses trailed lower, Sylus felt a sharp inhale catch in his throat. The soft, reverent way your lips traced the heavy vein running along the underside of his shaft was maddening, a teasing caress that spoke of an innocence and naivety that only served to increase his desire. He watched, his grip tightening on his utensils, as your mouth drifted lower still. Sylus's breath hitched as your lips brushed against the sensitive skin of his balls, your tongue darting out to taste him with a boldness that belied your inexperience.

He took another deliberate bite of his steak even as he felt the heat of your mouth scorching his flesh. His eyes flicked down to where your hand gripped his thigh, your nails digging into his flesh with a desperation that spoke of the strain you were feeling. Sylus could see the way your knees wobbled, the slight tremble in your limbs as you maintained your position.

Sylus's fingers tightened in your hair as he felt your lips wrap around the swollen head of his cock again, your tongue swirling and flicking with confidence. The sensation of your mouth working over his sensitive flesh was overwhelming, the wet heat and soft suction threatening to undo him entirely. He could see the way your eyes widened as his hand grabbed your head, a flicker of surprise and a hint of excitement. He could feel the gentle vibration of your hum as you lapped at his precum, the sound sending a jolt of electricity straight to his cock. "Fuck, just like that," Sylus growled, desperation creeping in his voice. "Your mouth feels incredible sweetie"

He could feel the way your fingers tightened around him, your grip sure and purposeful as you stroked him in time with the bobbing of your head. The combination of your hand and your mouth was rapidly pushing Sylus to the brink of ecstasy, his body coiling with a tension that demanded release.

As he guided your head lower, Sylus could feel the tip of his cock pressing against the back of your throat. He paused for a moment, allowing you to adjust to the intrusion before applying a gentle pressure, urging you to take him deeper. His eyes never left yours as he slowly, pushed your head down until your nose was pressed against his pelvis and your lips stretched taut around his thick girth. He could feel the way your throat closed around him, the muscles fluttering and massaging his sensitive flesh.

"Good fucking girl," Sylus praised, his voice a low, ragged rasp. "You're going to make me come. I can feel it. Don't stop, sweetie. Take every last drop." He could feel his release building, the heat and pressure in his balls growing. Sylus knew he was close, teetering on the precipice of a shattering climax. He let out a loud moan as he felt your tongue twist along the underside of his cock, the muscle massaging his most sensitive spots with a newfound skill. His thighs clenched beneath your fingertips, the muscles taut and trembling with the effort of holding himself back from bucking wildly into your mouth. His eyes fluttered closed, his head falling back as he lost himself to the sensations your clever mouth was inflicting upon him. But then, just as quickly, his eyes snapped open, his gaze locking with yours as you slowly, torturously, dragged your lips up his shaft. The sight of you, your mouth stuffed full of his throbbing cock, your eyes dark and heavy lidded with lust, was almost more than Sylus could bear. A deep, rumbling groan tore from his chest as he felt your tongue press against the leaking tip, your lips wrapping around him tightly. And then, with a sharp tug on your hair, Sylus came undone.

His climax crashed over him like a tidal wave, his hot seed spurting and pulsing down your throat as you swallowed around him. Sylus's body shuddered and jerked, his hips rocking forward to push himself deeper into your mouth, chasing every last drop of his release. As the final spurts of his come tapered off, Sylus slumped back in his chair, his chest heaving with the force of his breathing. He looked down at you, his expression one of utter disbelief and raw, primal satisfaction.

But then he watched, enraptured, as you rose up from your knees, your lips glistening with his essence. The sight of you reaching for his glass of wine, tipping it to your mouth and draining it in one long, greedy pull, sent a fresh surge of lust coursing through his spent body.

-----------------------------------------

"I could have taken you right there on that table," Sylus murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "Could have hiked up your dress and buried my face in your cunt, letting everyone in that restaurant hear the filthy sounds of you coming on my tongue."

Sylus's hand slid down your body, his fingers skimming over your ribcage, your belly, before coming to rest at the apex of your thighs.

"But I wanted to hear you sing for me here," he continued "Wanted to feel you writhing beneath me, wanted to make you scream my name until it was the only thing echoing through my room."

Sylus's fingers brushed against your folds, teasing through the wetness, gathering your arousal on his fingers. He brought his hand to his mouth, his tongue darting out to lick your essence from his skin, his eyes never leaving yours as he savored your flavor. "I could spend hours with my face buried between your thighs, feasting on your sweet little cunt until you're nothing but a boneless, mewling mess."

To emphasize his point, Sylus ducked his head, his shoulders pushing your thighs further apart as he settled himself between them. He could feel the heat radiating off your core, could smell the intoxicating aroma of your arousal, and it made his mouth water with anticipation. He leaned in, his breath hot and heavy against your flesh, and then he was tasting you, his tongue parting your folds in a long, slow lick. He groaned at the first contact, the sound vibrating through you, making your back arch off the bed. He could feel the way your hips canted upwards, seeking more of that delicious friction, silently begging him to fill you, to take you.

"Not yet, sweetheart," his breath hot against you. "I want to taste you first. Want to feel you come apart on my tongue before I let you sink down on my cock." He sealed his lips around your clit, suckling the sensitive bundle of nerves, his tongue flicking and circling until your cries reached a fever pitch. Sylus could feel your thighs trembling around his head, your fingers fisting in his hair as you held him tight against you. His hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he held you still, keeping you spread wide open for his hungry mouth. He could feel your walls fluttering as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy.

He knew every inch of you, every sensitive spot that would make you gasp and shudder, every secret place that would unravel you. And he used that knowledge mercilessly, his tongue and lips and teeth working in tandem to push you to the brink of oblivion. Just as he felt your walls starting to flutter, your breath hitching in your throat, Sylus pulled back. He released your clit from the suction of his lips, his tongue sliding away from that perfect spot that had been pushing you closer and closer to your release. He could feel your body jerking, your hips bucking upwards desperately seeking the friction and pressure you needed to tumble over the edge.

He placed a series of soft, teasing kisses along your inner thighs, his lips brushing against your skin. His hands slid up to your breasts, cupping the soft mounds, his thumbs teasing your nipples into stiff peaks.

Sylus rolled the hardened nubs between his fingers, pinching and tugging gently as he felt your body squirm beneath him. He could see the frustration in your eyes, could hear it in the needy whimpers spilling from your lips, and it only spurred him on, only made him want to tease you more.

"Please," you gasped, your voice ragged and hoarse. "Please, Sylus, I need...I need..."

"I know exactly what you need, sweetheart," Slowly he dragged a single finger up your slit, gathering the slick evidence of your arousal. He brought it to his lips, his tongue darting out to lick it clean, his eyes never leaving yours as he savored your unique flavor.

"Mmm, you taste even sweeter when you're desperate like this," Sylus growled, a note of dark satisfaction in his voice. "I could get addicted to your taste, to the way you quiver and shake and beg so prettily for my touch."

"What do you say, pretty girl?" Sylus murmured, his voice a low, approving rumble. "Tell me, how do you want to come undone tonight?" He pressed a lingering kiss to your clit, his tongue flicking out to tease the sensitive bud, drawing a sharp gasp from your throat.

"I'm going to give you a choice," he continued, "Do you want to come screaming my name on my tongue, or do you want to sink down on my cock and ride me until you can't take any more?" His fingers dipped into your dripping entrance, scissoring and pumping, teasing your fluttering walls. He could feel how close you were, ready to snap at the slightest provocation.

"Since you've been such a good girl tonight," he purred, his fingers curling to press against that perfect spot deep inside you, "I'm going to let you pick your poison."

"I want your cock, Sylus. Please, I need you inside me..."

Without a moment's hesitation, he flipped your body over, positioning you to straddle his hips. His large hands gripped your waist, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass as he lifted you up and then slammed you down on his thick, hard cock in one brutal thrust.

"Fuck!" Sylus moaned, his head falling back against the pillow as he hilts inside you, "God, you feel fucking incredible." He could feel your walls stretching around him, your softness enveloping his cock. Sylus's hips surged upwards, driving him even deeper into your core as he pulled you down to meet him, the force of his thrusts making the bed frame creak and groan beneath you. "Yes, fuck, just like that," Sylus growled, his eyes blazing into yours as he watched your face contort with pleasure. "Take my cock, pretty girl. Fucking take it."

One hand slid up your body to your breast, his fingers finding your nipple and pinching the stiff peak roughly. The other hand gripped your hip, his nails leaving crescent indents in your skin as he held you in place, forcing you to take every inch. He could feel your body trembling, your thighs shake around him as he fucked up into you with short, sharp thrusts. He leaned in, his lips finding your throat, his teeth sinking into the tender flesh. His tongue laved over the reddening skin, soothing the sting, before he pulled back to look at you with an indulgent grin.

"Ride me, baby," Sylus commanded, his voice rough with lust. "Sink down on my cock and take what you need. Fucking use me."

His thrusts were relentless, each one driving his thick, pulsing cock deeper into your core than the last. He could feel your body yielding to him, your walls clenching and fluttering around his length as he stretched you wider. The pleasure was so intense, so all consuming, that you swore you could feel it in the pit of your stomach, could feel it stealing the air from your lungs with each brutal thrust of his hips.

His hands gripped your hips tighter, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh of your ass as he pulled you down harder, forcing your body to accept him. His breath came in short, sharp gasps, his chest heaving with the effort of his thrusts as he fucked up into you.

You could feel your orgasm building, could feel the coil of heat and pressure winding tighter and tighter in the pit of your belly. Your fingers clawed at Sylus's chest, your nails leaving red lines down his skin as you clung to him, desperate for something to ground yourself against the overwhelming pleasure.

Just as you teetered on the precipice, your body coiled tight and ready to snap, Sylus latched onto your nipple with his mouth. His teeth sank into the tender, stiff peak, biting down just hard enough to send a jolt of pained pleasure. At the same moment, he slammed his cock up into you with a brutal, punishing thrust, burying himself to the hilt inside you.

The dual sensations, the sharp, stinging pain of his bite and the intense, overwhelming pleasure of his cock pulsing deep within you was the final push you needed to send you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed through you, your body convulsing and shaking uncontrollably as you you screamed his name to the heavens above.

"FUCK, SYLUS!" you wailed, your voice cracking and breaking as ecstasy consumed you. Your cunt clamped down around his length like a vice, your walls rippling and fluttering as you came harder than you ever had before in your life.

Wave after wave of pure, bliss surged through your veins, stealing your breath and robbing you of any semblance of coherent thought. Through the haze of your climax, you could feel Sylus's cock throbbing and pulsing inside you, could feel his own release dripping out of you to pool on the sheets beneath you. The combination of your mixed juices created an obscene sound as Sylus's hips continued to rock into yours.

Finally, with a groan, Sylus collapsed back against the bed, pulling you down on top of him. His arms wrapped around your trembling body, holding you close as the last tremors of your mutual releases subsided.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke, both lost in the hazy afterglow. You could feel Sylus's heart pounding against your cheek.

"The panties are mine now," Sylus declared, a smug grin spreading across his face

You couldn't help but join in his laughter, shaking your head in disbelief at his audacity. "You're unbelievable," you giggled, punching him playfully on the arm. "Keeping my panties like some sort of sick trophy. You really are a dirty, dirty man, Sylus."

[dewdropdinosaur]

Kinktober Day 30: Sex Pollen

Summary: Singed had told you stories, faint rumors of a purple flower that created the feeling of being alive, every fiber on edge. An addictive substance, no doubt, one that could add to the potentcy of Shimmer. As you began to prepare the equipment, you carefully cut a petal to extract its essence. Without warning, the flower emitted a cloud of bright purple pollen, catching both you and Silco off guard. Who knows what effects it could have. Warnings: Sex pollen, fingering, P in V sex, reader has a vagina, pinning, slight sub/dom dynamics, consent is established and there is a history, etc. MNDI, 18+. You're responsible for your own media consumption. ONLY ONE MORE DAY?! WHERE HAS THE TIME GONE?

Shadows danced under flickering lights and the air buzzed with the hum of innovation. You toiled away in your lab, a calculated mess of microscopes, beakers, and strange bubbling liquids. Singed’s apprentience, at your finest. Your reputation for pushing the boundaries of science had caught the attention of Silco and he valued your intellect and creativity; providing you with resources to explore your ambitious projects that would ultimately benefit him.

One evening, after a long day of experimenting with shimmer, you ventured into the depths of the Undercity to clear your mind. The streets were a chaotic blend of laughter and tension, but you had a singular focus. You were searching for rare flora rumored to possess extraordinary properties—flowers that could potentially change the course of Zaun's future. Singed had told you stories, faint rumors of a purple flower that created the feeling of being alive, every fiber on edge. An addictive substance, no doubt, one that could add to the potentcy of Shimmer. As you wandered through an abandoned alley, a soft glow caught your eye. Nestled among the rubble was a flower unlike any you had seen: its petals shimmered like liquid, and a faint, sweet fragrance wafted toward you. It seemed so out of place in the dim and dreary. Such a beauty in contrast to the violence that surronded it.  Entranced, you carefully plucked the flower, tucking it safely in your satchel. 

Returning to the lab, you placed the flower under a microscope, curiosity piqued. You noted its unique structure and vibrant coloration, all living up to the rumors you had been told. Surely, this must be a flower. The lab was alive with the hum of machinery, the air thick with the scent of chemicals and the promise of discovery. Just as you were about to document your findings in your notebook, Silco entered, his presence commanding yet oddly reassuring. 

“What have you found?” he asked, his eyes narrowing as he spotted the glowing flower.

“It’s incredible,” you replied, excitement bubbling in your voice. “I think it could have potential applications in shimmer enhancement, perhaps even a way to stabilize the addicting effects. It would take time however, of course. All things do—”

Silco stepped closer, cutting you off with a wave of his hand. His eyes peered down at the plant, expression calm but clearly intrigued. “ You should investigate it further. Can you extract its properties?”

You nodded, eager to share the discovery. You had always reveled in impressing the Eye of Zaun, seeing his bicolored eyes light up with interest as you spoke of your latest projects. How close he would hover your body, heat radiating between you, something deep and unspoken. It was intoxicating and dangerous, just as you liked it. A forbidden fruit you desired, drawing you deeper into your sin with every bite. 

As you began to prepare the equipment, you carefully cut a petal to extract its essence. Without warning, the flower emitted a cloud of bright purple pollen, catching both you and Silco off guard. Silco instinctively raised his hand to shield himself, but it was too late. The pollen enveloped you both, and you were left coughing, spluttering, and blinking against the brightness.

Once the cloud dissipated, you exchanged bewildered glances. Silco’s expression was a mix of concern and curiosity, while you felt a strange energy coursing through you. 

“What was that?”you asked, brushing pollen from your hair.

“I don’t know,” Silco replied, his voice low, “but we should be careful.”

As the minutes passed, you noticed something strange. Heat polled in your lower belly, a creeping feeling that seemed to envelop every part of your body. Slow and ragged breaths passed your lips, small beads of sweat forming on your lower brow. The world seemed hot. Too hot. Removing your lab coat, draping it on the chair, you were left in a small tank top and a pair of pants. Simple attire, but it felt so constricting. Nothing you were doing seemed to cool you down and the ache within your core grew at an alarming rate. Painful, but in the best way. 

Silco was feeling the same, albiet slower. Having not gotten hit with as much pollen, he took to observing your strange reaction in tandem with his own. Coming to investiagte, he places his hand on your forehead, as if to check your temperature. he almost whimpers at the touch of your hand against his, the sound of your gasp sending a shiver down his spine. The sight of you squirming beneath him, when his thumb brushes over the nape of your neck as he drags his hand down from your head, sends sparks through his body. Losing all train of thought, the warmth of your body against his drives him crazy, and he has to use all his willpower to break away from this moment, knowing he shouldn't indulge too much. 

His hand is cool against your skin, healing some of the burn that lights up your body. With a small whimper, you lean your head closer to his touch, begging for more. 

“Please…Silco…what’s going on?”

“I…I think that flower has illicited this reaction. What exactly did you say it was again?”

“Singed said it was rumored to cause people to feel more alive, addicted I suppose.”

Silco certainly felt alive, every fiber of his being was alight with arousal, the strain in his trousers steady growing. Bringing his mouth to speak into the shell of your ear, his voice was husky in a way that drove you insane. Your breath hitches at his touch, the feeling of his fingers across your cheek sends tingles through your chest. You swallow, trying to ignore the desire building within. 

“I think it does more than that, darling. Would you allow me to demonstrate?”

Gods did you ever. With quick and rapid nods, he had his answer as you writhed below him. He could smell you, how soaked you were. That damp spot on your pants did little to hide salaciousness of your thoughts and needs. Bringing a finger to rub your clothes core, you body choked back a breath at the flash of stimulation that shot through you. With every stroke, the ache between your thighs never seemed to disappiate but grow stronger. More painful and pleasureable than the last, a lewd mewl passes your lips as Silco massaged your drenched pussy.

Wasting no time on formal foreplay, your body clearly ready and willing, he removed his fingers for just a moment to pull down your pants; letting them pool at your ankles. Sinking two fingers into your pussy and starting to scissor you wide, his large and deft fingers thrusted in and out of you. Your body became lost in the erotic rapture of your senses, words of praise leaving your lips in hoarse whispers of pleasure. You could feel his touch everywhere, your body seemed one with his. 

One hand digging into your hips, his mouth leaving sloppy kisses on the valley of your neck, and the other hand knuckle deep inside you in such a way you felt you mind explode. The feeling of fullness was almost an impossible feeling to describe, like you were meant to be this way. Every thought within you screaming ‘MORE’ as he continued to work you towards your release. 

“So sweet for me, such a precious little thing. You wanted this all along didn’t you, wanted me to fill you up just like this. Didn’t need a plant to ask my dear, I would have done it in a heartbeat.”

Removing his fingers with a swift motion, leaving you no reprieve, he unbuckled his pants with a clip. Without warning, he sunk his hot and heavy cock into you with one deft motion. Both of you moaning both at the sight and feeling, the delicious yet somewhat burning friction that both of you so desperately craved. Your cunt is like Heaven for him, warm and inviting. Taking him so well, it feels like the first fire in his loins he every experienced as your body welcomes him. Sinful in all the best ways. He had always admired you from afar, filthy thoughts settling in his mind with every interaction and you had not the slightess clue. But he could trail your gaze every day, follow your wanting mind to see it settle on him. A perveted old man such as him had no business in corrupting your body in this way. But you had given him permission, commanded his desires to unfurl, and so he relished. 

Slowly thrusting, taking his time to draw out every noise, he relished in the sight below him. Had you had planned all of this just for him? No, you would never. But it was of no consequence, he had you right where he wanted you. You were truly such a loyal little sinner, so obedient and ready for him.The thoughts alone nearly had Silco cumming inside you, mumbling incoherently as he picked up the pace, driving deeper, the walls of your cunt squeezing onto him for dear life. The added weight and pace was becoming nearly too much.  Every plunge of his member caused jolts of arousal to shake your body through the core, illiciting a pornographic moan to annouce your impending release. 

“That’s it darling, cum for me. Show me just how badly you wanted this.”

You couldn’t help but nod, eyes rolling into the back of your head as your own orgasm rapidly approached. Silco’s thrusts started to become sloppy and heated, eyes closing and hair disheveled from the intensity. Soft grunts left his lips and with one final stroke, he spilled hot ropes of cum into you; spurring you into your own orgasm at the feeling of his hot seed within you. Calming down from your high, you brought you hand to caress his cheek gently. Admiring the way his chest heaved with each breath, how dialted his eyes were. While the ache had dulled, it still remained. Softly buzzing in the air, surronding the blissful high that had overcome you.

“I am not quite satiated, my dear. May I indulge in you once more?”

[theaawalker]

Steps to Write a Cunning Femme Fatale

1. Establish Her Persona

Define Her Allure: Craft her as enigmatic, charming, and intelligent. She should draw people in with her charisma and mystique.

Give Her Depth: Avoid clichés by giving her a unique backstory, motivations, or vulnerabilities that shape her actions.

Choose Her Strengths: Highlight skills like manipulation, resourcefulness, or combat abilities that give her an edge.

2. Shape Her Role in the Plot

Decide Her Purpose: Determine if she’s an ally, antagonist, or morally gray character, and how her actions drive the story.

Design Power Dynamics: Show how she wields control or influence over other characters, often exploiting weaknesses.

Weave Intrigue: Keep her intentions ambiguous to maintain tension and mystery.

3. Build Her Relationships

Contrast With Others: Develop relationships that show how she contrasts with or complements other characters (e.g., a vulnerable hero or a rival villain).

Show Complexity: Explore the layers in her interactions, such as her ability to mix truth with deception.

Reveal Gradually: Unfold her true nature over time, leaving both characters and the audience guessing.

4. Create a Striking Appearance

Use Symbolism: Incorporate elements of her look that reflect her personality, like bold colors, sleek outfits, or unique accessories.

Convey Confidence: Show her self-assuredness in the way she moves, speaks, and holds herself.

Highlight Ambiguity: Blend qualities that make her both alluring and dangerous (e.g., a soft smile hiding sharp intent).

5. Show Her in Action

Establish Power Plays: Showcase her intelligence and cunning through strategic actions, manipulations, or daring risks.

Create High Stakes: Put her in situations where she must outwit others or face consequences.

Balance Strength and Vulnerability: Let her excel in some areas while occasionally exposing a flaw or fear to humanize her.

6. Develop a Satisfying Arc

Choose Her Outcome: Decide if she triumphs, meets her downfall, or remains ambiguous at the story’s end.

Reflect Growth or Decline: Show how her actions shape her destiny—whether she evolves, succumbs, or holds her ground.

Tie Back to Themes: Ensure her arc aligns with the overarching themes of the story, like betrayal, love, or revenge.

Examples of Femme Fatales in Stories

1. Film Examples

Phyllis Dietrichson (Double Indemnity): Uses charm and manipulation to pull others into her schemes, embodying the classic femme fatale archetype.

Mal Cobb (Inception): A tragic yet dangerous figure, her motivations blur the lines between reality and illusion.

Nikita (La Femme Nikita): Balances vulnerability and lethal skill, creating a layered and compelling character.

2. Literature Examples

Catherine Tramell (Basic Instinct): A brilliant, enigmatic writer whose intelligence and seduction make her a master manipulator.

Milady de Winter (The Three Musketeers): A cunning and ruthless antagonist, she uses her wits and charm to outmaneuver the heroes.

Amy Dunne (Gone Girl): Subverts the idea of victimhood with her calculated and chilling actions, redefining the femme fatale for modern audiences.

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[gghostwriter]

A Series of Happenstance

Spencer Reid x House!Daughter!Reader

Summary: The three times Spencer loathed to see you and the one time he pleaded to Trope:Angst; think post Tobias Spencer Reid w.c: 5.2k Disclaimer: I am no way a medical personnel, least of all a psychiatrist so there will be medical inaccuracies A/N: this is part one of my house!daughter series and it’s angst, babes. Spencer is just mean and lashing out here which is totally understandable. It also took a while since writing such heavy pieces of fiction takes a toll on me but I hope, especially to the ones who were excited for this series, love it still. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

The first meeting

Spencer didn’t want to be here—here being in this cream colored, four cornered room, facing off the ultimate nemesis of profiler. Not an unsolvable case, not an unsub, but rather a psychiatrist contracted by the FBI for psych evaluation. 

He was fine, he insisted to Hotch. He can compartmentalize well, he rationalized to Gideon. He just needed rest and the comfort of his own bed, he stated to the whole team. But protocols were protocols and his unit chief was a stickler to rules especially when it involved the care for his team. 

That was how he found himself on a Tuesday afternoon, sitting in silence and watching the ticking of the clock as if it was the most interesting piece of art there was. 

The tension was stifling. Spencer could almost see it tainting his vision red. Biting the insides of his cheek, he wanted to keep everything in. 

No, he needed to. 

He knew he was being rude, petulant even but for once, he didn’t have it in him to care. He didn’t know you. You were a complete stranger being paid by the government to report back any findings that could keep him out of the field. It wasn’t fair. You were just accepting the call of duty but you bore the brunt of his ire and hostile gaze. 

In the normal setting, he would have found you intriguing. Your office colored in taupe—cold, distant, and linked to the desire to escape from the world but in the farthest side of the room was a shelf littered with books and small knick knacks that seemed to be collected over the years rather than curated to match the professional setting. The books ranged from published psychology dissertations, medical teaching materials, and collections of essays from well-revered and obscure writers. 

You were dressed in black and white, standard for your importance, but your nails were painted in a pale pink color—close to looking natural but not quite. And lastly, your looks. 

You were beautiful, don’t get him wrong, he may not have the same experiences as Morgan did with the opposite sex but he knows a beautiful attractive woman when he sees one. No, it wasn’t that, it was how young you looked—almost or maybe even sharing the same age as him. 

A genius, then.

A prodigy in your own field just like him. 

“Doctor Reid,” the low timber of your voice bringing him out of his musings. It sent a shiver down his spine when he first heard you speak. A reaction that he catalogued in his mind as a mystery to be revisited later on. 

He subtly tilted his head to the side, an indication that you had his attention albeit reluctantly.

“Anything you say in this room is strictly confidential,” you gestured with your hand. “No file or notes will be passed to your unit chief or any personnels of the brass. I promise you.”

He scoffed, breaking his vow of silence. “That’s not a hundred percent true, Doctor. Lying to get your patient to talk can only get you so far.”

“I understand where you’re coming from but all I submit to the FBI is my conclusion if you’re fit to go back to work or not, patient-confidentiality still stands—” your delicate fingers feebly holding your pen. “Now, I sensed a little resentment. Is it coming from your self-loathing about having to choose a victim for Tobias Hankel or is it your displaced anger from separating with your team liaison, Agent Jareau?” 

He glared at you. How dare you imply the seething anger from within him is directed at anyone but himself. “What? No, no, no. I’m not angry at anything or anyone! Maybe at you and this whole evaluation but never at JJ or—” he cut himself off.

“The suspect,” you continued on for him, jotting down notes on your black leather journal.

“The unsub. Unknown subject.” He corrected, second nature of him to do so. “We call them the unsub.”

You nodded, a lock of hair falling away from your bun. A distracting motion that momentarily rendered him speechless. “Alright. Are you angry at yourself and your decision to separate with Agent Jareau during the case?”

He scoffed but opted to stay silent. Spencer had already given too much of his emotion away by answering the earlier questions. 

For any regular citizen, it may seem like the opposite but given the sound of you scribbling away on the pages of the notebook, you beg to differ.

You crossed your pant covered leg and stared into his eyes, a maneuver that could mean two things: 1) you were sizing him up, which was highly unlikely given the dynamics, regardless of his hostility or 2) you were trying to connect with him, a move backed by science that stated eye contact releases oxytocin—a bonding hormone. 

A study he didn’t want to prove right at the moment.

“Do you perhaps feel remorse for the unsub?”

His left eye twitched. “Tobias Hankel.”

“Is there a reason behind why you’d prefer to call the unsub by name?” You further asked, having found a sore subject to poke and prod to elicit a reaction.

The answer was yes, of course. Tobias was just a victim as much as he, Spencer Reid, was—the unsub, in his eyes, was a victim of bad fate that resulted in fracturing his psyche but a shrink didn’t need to know that. 

To be exact, the FBI didn’t need to know that he, an active and upstanding agent, felt remorse and guilt for not being able to save Tobias. Human emotion rarely had a place in bureaucracy and paperwork.

“How old are you?” Spencer nonchalantly inquired to throw you off his trail. “You look too young to be a Doctor contracted by the brass.”

You scribbled something again in your notebook before answering in a monotone voice as if your reply has been well rehearsed. “24, about to turn 25 and yes, I do look young. I graduated early due to my intelligence which I believe is the same case for you, Doctor—” you clasped your hands in front of you, leaning slightly forward. “—which brings us back to the topic, the anger inside of you, who is it directed to?”

His eyes shifted to the clock—5pm. 

A small smile graced his face. The time was up.

“Well, I believe we’re done here, Doctor—” he proceeded to stand up, picking on an imaginary lint as he did so. “—I would say it’s been nice meeting you but that would be a lie you’d no doubt catch and analyze.”

Your lips pressed thinly together, imitating a smile but Spencer knew that move quite well—you were reining in any unsolicited and possibly inappropriate comment regarding his snappy behavior. 

A small chuckle escaped his lips. If he, a profiler, considered you, a psychiatrist, his number one nemesis, there was no doubt you consider him the same. 

As he was about to step out of the office, your slender fingers brandished a calling card.

“Here’s my number—” he gingerly took it as if it contained some unknown pathogen. “—and my door is always open when you’re ready to talk, Doctor Reid.”

He nodded once, a goodbye. “Doctor House.”

There was little doubt in Spencer’s mind that he’d never willingly stop by your office again but if he had been paying attention to your subtle patronizing words of farewell, he would have picked up that this encounter was far from over. 

Especially when he found out on a busy Tuesday morning from Hotch that you had deemed him unfit to return back to the field—effectively barring him from the jet on its way to Idaho. 

The second meeting

There was a series of rapid knocks on your office door. 

As a psychiatrist with your own practice, it was highly unusual for clients to suddenly show up with no prior appointments or even a customary phone call. 

It was a Tuesday morning and like clockwork, you’ve allotted the first half of the day in catching up with paperwork dealing with your office and evaluations for the FBI. 

That gave you a pause, remembering a snipping agent who you deemed unfit for duty. Dr. Spencer Reid. The genius profiler who joined the ranks at the tender age of 22. A prodigy in his old field, just like you.

He was closed off, simmering with rage almost, and there was little doubt in your mind that he was the one behind the door, ceaselessly knocking. After all, when you sent in your evaluation directly to his unit chief, the stoic man’s face twitched with concern and maybe a little bit of annoyance in the paperwork it would entail.

“Come in,” you called out, hands clasping together on top of your desk. A perfect picture of professionalism.

The door swung open, revealing a tightly wounded Dr. Spencer Reid. 

With a thick cardigan adorning on his body and a leather satchel draped over his shoulders to his front, he looked normal. But you knew better, his choice of outerwear represented a security blanket in the middle of September and his placement of satchel acted as a shield and its’ straps a stress ball. With just that one look you knew he wasn’t ready to back with his team. 

“Dr. Reid, what can I do for you?” You asked, hand unclasping and indicating to the seat in front of you. “Please sit.” 

Closing the door behind him, he shuffled closer to your desk but made no indication to sit down. “I’d rather stand, Dr. House, and I think you know why I’m here.”

A show of dominance. Right away, he wanted control the outcome of this conversation to his favor. It was textbook psychology, a taunt you wanted no part of.

A slight smile appeared on your face, one that could be translated as friendly for those open and condescending for those closed off. “I believe I don’t follow.” 

“My evaluation, you made a mistake,” the left corner of his mouth lifting for a smirk. There was a vein visible on his temple, his anger and will to bottle it up manifesting physically. 

You tilted your head to the side, unwavering in your gaze, hands clasped and index fingers tapping together. The pause and silence was a standard tactic to get a patient to break, similar to what law enforcement uses with suspects but results may vary especially when used on a seasoned profiler.

Right away, Spencer understood your tactic. “That won’t work. We use that in every case, I know the standard—” he looked around the room. “—should I lower the temperature too?” 

You answered with silence. The agent in front of you now was no longer thinking clearly. His objective mind that would deem him fit to return for duty clouded with emotion, anger and something else. 

His right hand touched above his left wrist. A subconscious move provoked by your unrelenting gaze. A move that gave away an important piece of information that his unit chief no doubt omitted in the reports.

Ah.

Tobias Hankel was a drug addict.

And in turn has subjected the agent in front of you to his vices.

You sighed. Suddenly the case no longer felt black and white, it was treading close to home as you remembered your father who’s abusing Vicodin in lieu of his leg pain. It was a sore spot for you—a clink in your armor. 

“Sit, please,” you indicated to the chair in front of you again.

Spencer complied this time, having heard a change in your tone. 

“Dr Reid,” you started. “I believe my evaluation of you is still correct—”

He opened his mouth to argue.

“—but, please let me finish, perhaps we can compromise. As a psychiatrist, it’s not in my practice to give in to my client’s demands but as you are not a regular client, I believe it would be beneficial for the both of us to reach an understanding.”

You walked towards the locked cabinet to your right. It was where you kept all medical equipments—including medicine for patients. Reaching back to the depths of the lower shelf, your hand brought out a non-descriptive black pouch from its hiding. You sat beside Spencer, effectively communicating that you are both on the same level.

“I will approve your return for duty as long as you come back for a couple of sessions, not FBI contracted, strictly confidential, and you—” handing him the zipped pouch before continuing on. “—get drug tested.”

Spencer narrowed his eyes. Perhaps he knew that his unit chief and mentor kept the delicate nature of his case out of the bureau and wondered how you pieced everything together. He underestimated you, you realized. A mistake on his end. 

“I’m a psychiatrist, I know the signs Dr. Reid, and besides, I’m a genius just like you,” you adjusted your posture, slightly leaning back. 

Check. 

He smiled, one that you could say no longer contained malice. It was instead filled with resignation and relief. “You’re right. I underestimated you, Dr. House.”

Standing up, you dusted imaginary lint from your black pencil skirt before extending your hand out for a handshake. 

He hesitated before reaching over shaking it once. His hands were rough and calloused from frequent holding of his gun but felt oddly warm and soothing. It represented who he was in your eyes—prickly and rough around the edges but soft and good on the inside.

As he exited your office with a soft thud of the door behind him, you admitted to yourself that you took a huge gamble. Rather than a checkmate, all you did was check his king. You didn’t ask if he had built his own stash of drugs after the case was finished. It was a risk you were willing to take just to take a step closer in getting the agent to trust you. Baby steps were better than nothing. You could work with that.

There was still the drug test you could rely on. A black and white piece of paper that would tell the truth if done at the right time. After all, the most important teaching your father, the older Dr. House, has imparted on you was—

Everybody lies.

The third meeting

The bar at the corner Main Street on a Friday night was a rare place for you to be. The echoes of its pulsing music could be heard a couple of shops away, luring bodies than the space could ever handle like it were Pied Piper and the people—by extension, you, were the unsuspecting kids. The lights were colored orange, giving the area a tint of good times and bad decisions. The aged brick walls discolored in a multitude of shades and the decorative posters were aimlessly nailed to the wall. There was a section far from the bar that was filled with moving bodies—people letting loose and exhibiting what you’d call a mating dance for anyone interested and beside the bar were two dart boards, popular with the crowd, but had seen better days. 

This wasn’t your usual scene as you excused your way to the bar tucked at the center space. It wasn’t due to snobbery, like what your friend Kyle once joked, it was preference.

The sticky floor beneath your sensible nude heels had you wishing that your feet were tucked in a soft blanket with mind numbing television playing in the background instead of navigating the throng of people holding their drink of choice and inhaling the musky scent of liquor and sweat.

“Haven’t seen you around here,” a tenor voice flirted from beside you.

Your eyebrow raised as you took in the source—a burly African-American with a buzzcut. There was something distinct about him that set him apart from the rest. It wasn’t his built or the way his grey shirt stretched to fit around his biceps. It also wasn’t the twinkle in his eye as he tried to entice you to flirt back. One of his hands drifted down to his waist and with his wide leg stance, you knew.

A cop. An off duty law enforcement officer.

You laughed. “Does that line usually work on women, especially from—” you paused for suspense. ”—a cop?”

“Okay,” the stranger chuckled. “Close, want to try again?”

A smile stretched your glossed pink lips. You were never one to back away from a challenge—it was one of the traits you inherited from the other Dr House.

“Well, if we’re basing it on where the bar is located nearby and my fifty percent guess from a while ago, I’d say you were a cop—maybe for a couple of years, before joining the FBI. Maybe counter terrorism—” the memory of Dr. Reid talking about his team found its way to the forefront of your mind. “—or by any chance, the BAU?”

He could no longer hide the surprise from his face. “Right, that’s right. What gave it away? Was it my ruggedly handsome looks or are you just a mind reader?”

You thanked the bartender before trying to find your way out of the surge of people behind you, clamoring to place their order. The stranger stretched out his muscular arms, guiding you away from the bar towards his booth.

“Just a mind reader,” you simplified—an action that came as second nature to you. In the past, when you would disclose your job as a psychiatrist, people would react in two ways. One, they’d get subconscious that you’d read into every body language they’d have, causing them to shy away or two, they’d become over-zealous and ask you to diagnose them all in good fun like it was some sort of magician’s trick.

A mop of light brown curly hair parked beside a long blonde hair caught your periphery. He had his back turned but it was a presence you’ve slowly started getting familiar with. It was Dr. Spencer Reid, out in the natural setting, a first.

Your eyes slowly widened as you realized where he was guiding you and who he might be. 

“Huh,” you uttered under your breath before flashing a smile to the stranger beside you. “Are you by any chance, Derek Morgan?”

“Okay, now you’re starting to freak me out. How’d you do that, Ms. Mind Reader?”

A different timber of voice answered. “It’s because I told her—” a pair of hazel eyes turned to you, filled with accusation. “—Dr. House. Are you keeping tabs on me?” 

“Dr. Reid, I didn’t think I’d see you here.”

He scoffed. “In a bar? Near my office? The statistics on seeing me here is actually surprisingly high.”

He was hostile, understandably so as here you were, a stranger, who knows his deepest, darkest secret mixing in with the otherwise innocent parties of his personal life. It was no harm, caused no click in your armor—he’d been cooperative as of the late within the confines of your office but seeing you beyond the four corners of your taupe walls threw him off the loop.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t think I caught your name,” the blonde woman beside Spencer, flashed you a smile, hand stretching out for a handshake. “I’m Jennifer Jareau, but you can call me JJ.”

You shook her hand. “Ah, it’s great to meet you, Agent Jareau.” 

“So, how do you know Spence?”

You smiled, unsure on how to disclose your psychiatrist-patient relationship with someone he works with. You didn’t know how much his team members knew about his scheduled Saturday meetings with you or if they even knew at all what Dr. Reid was going through.

From the past appointments, you’ve categorized the agent as an anxious avoidant type—something geniuses who grew up in a non-secure household tend to share. Yourself, included.

Your eyes glanced at Spencer before drifting towards the table behind him, subtly trying to figure out his choice of drink. You hoped it was non-alcoholic. He’d be suffering from withdrawals and if he clung to a substitute vice, you’d have to find a roundabout way to tackle the issue without pushing him to close off again. You didn’t need that, he was just starting to open up after all, plus if he stopped cooperating, you’d have no choice but to bring it up to his supervisors, jeopardizing his career. 

A clear glass came into view as he shuffled his weight from one foot to the other.

Water. It was water.

You breathed a sigh of relief before slowly panning up, locking eyes with Dr. Reid. His gaze narrowed, having understood what you were checking on.

Checkmate.

“She’s FBI’s contracted psychiatrist,” he explained, jaw tight from anger. 

You flashed him a little smile before averting your eyes in chagrin.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but you look a little to young to be a licensed doctor,” Agent Jareau observed. 

“I graduated early.”

Morgan’s left hand pats your back while the other pats Dr. Reid’s. “Another genius, then. You’d get along great with our pretty boy over here. He’s always going on and on about facts and statistics—“

“No offense Morgan, but I don’t think we’d get along at all,” Spencer sneered. “I’d rather not get to know someone who has an ulterior motive.”

Your hand tightened around your glass. “It’s great to meet you, Agent Jareau and Agent Morgan but I think my friends would be looking for me,” you flashed the young agent a dejected smile. “Dr. Reid, hope to see you again soon.”

“I don’t,” he sardonically replied.

You nodded once before turning back to where you friends would be, settled in the four seater booth, unaware that you may have just burned the rocky bridge you’ve built with a patient in need. 

The fourth meeting

A warbled hum roused you from slumber. 

With one eye straining to stay open, the digital clock on your dresser displayed 12:21. Midnight—the time for humans to all be in stupor but based on the humming, subdued underneath your pillow, there was one exception.

You sat up, blindly reaching for the phone. There was no programmed name for the number and right away, an eerie feeling started swirling in your gut. This was no social call. A call this hour could only be one thing, an emergency.

“Hello. Who is this?” Your voice still rough from sleep.

No answer. 

You pressed the phone closer to your ear, hard enough to possibly leave a mark. There were light rustles on the other end that indicated a presence, a person that wouldn’t or couldn’t answer your inquiry.

“Hello,” you tried again, voice raising at the end from tension. “Is anyone there?”

There was silence. The dread in your stomach further worsening as if group of bats decided to wreak havoc in its dark crevices. There was no indication that this was a prank call and there was also no indication that it wasn’t. 

You bit your lip, torn between hanging up and waiting for an existence to make itself known. It could be nothing or it could be—your train of thought suddenly taking a sharp left turn to the corner that a certain FBI agent unknowingly occupies. You had given him your number, having scrawled it at the back of your calling card during the very first meeting, purely out of the goodness of trying to put back the broken genius that graced and intrigued your doors.

“Dr. Spencer Reid?” You hesitantly asked, hoping that your intuition was wrong. That this wasn’t the agent calling for help.

A deep groan answered.

“Oh gods,” you breathed out. “Okay, okay. Just—shit, just stay on the line. I’m coming, I swear. Just—fuck.” Your feet scrambled out of the apartment, never mind the lights or the chill that the midnight had cloaked the air with.

It was your worst nightmare. You knew what this call was, you knew his state on the other side of the phone by experience.

Hands trembling as you started the ignition of your car and speedily backing up the parking lot and out the streets in little time. 

“Spencer,” formality be damned at this point as you turned a sharp right, your GPS indicating 8 minutes away from destination. “Spencer, are you still there?” 

A light rustle replied. 

“I’m almost there, hang on for me, okay,” your hand letting go of the steering wheel to push the tousled hair away from your face.

Each second felt like an eternity, each time passed threatened to push your mind into the fog of panic and memory of your very own father taking a whole bottle of Oxycodone and leaving a message for you and your grandmother. The panic, the fear, and the dread of that very moment had come back in two folds.

Your clammy fingers leaving pinch marks on the back of your palm. “Not now, not now,” you whispered to yourself. “I can’t have an attack now, keep it together.” 

“Dr. House,” Spencer gravely slurred.

You haphazardly parked the car at the nearest available sidewalk space, uncaring if by some miracle you get ticketed. “I’m here, Spencer. I’m here.”

There was a groan as you hurriedly ran up the apartment stairs, grateful that the security below was surprisingly lax.

Third floor, get to the third floor. I need to get to the third floor—you repeated under your breath. You could have called an ambulance or better yet his team member, SSA Derek Morgan, but you felt the urge to make sure he was alright. To make him see that someone else besides from his mother and team care about him. To make him see that life was worth living, no matter the good or the bad.

“Spencer, I’m outside your door,” you tried to catch your breath. “Do you think you could let me in?”

And for a few seconds, there was only the tense silence before a series of gasps and groans crescendo’ed louder and louder from the phone speaker and on the other side of the door. 

Shit. You knew what those grunts of pain and pleas meant, he was seizing.

Slamming down on the ground, uncaring if your exposed knees get bruised, you sent a silent thank you to your past self for leaving a hair pin inside the pockets of your sleep shorts. Breaking and entering was yet another skill set you learned from the other Dr House and his team of skilled doctors, you just never imagined you’d be applying that knowledge in breaking and entering a federal agent’s home. 

The door unlocked and you barreled your way to the living space where a frightful sight greeted you—Spencer on the floor, laying still as if he was peacefully sleeping.

“No, no, no,” you slid beside him, mind cataloguing every detail for the right action. An empty needle near his exposed right arm and an empty glass bottle of Dilaudid.

No rise and fall of the chest.

And no pulse. Medical training kicking in, you tilted his head up, clearing the pathway, and started chest compressions.

One. Two. Three—

“C’mon, Spencer, breathe,” you grunted in between pumps.

One. Two. Three. Four—

You leaned down to his chapped lips, blowing air to his mouth. “I need you to breathe for me, okay. Breathe, Spencer.” 

One. Two. Three. Four. Five—

“Breathe, c’mon Spencer,” you knew there was a high probability for the agent to have his own stash of narcotics and in by agreeing to keep his secret, lest he loses his badge, to get him to open up was a gamble. A risk you were now regrettably paying for.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six—

“Dammit Spencer, I could lose my license for this. Breathe, I need you to breathe.”

A sputtering of coughs escaped his lips.

“Oh thank you, thank you,” you breathed out, arms sagging from the pressure of performing CPR and the weight of fear that you might have been too late. 

Spencer groaned. “Dr. House?”

You nodded, the salty tears blurring your vision. The image of him lying still was burned into your memory, the same way the mirage of your own father lying in a pool of his own vomit. He’s alive—they’re both alive.

Your hands angrily erased the rivulets the tears left behind on your cheeks. Now wasn’t the time to give in to relief and emotion. Although Spencer was out of the woods, there was still a huge uphill battle to tackle. 

“I’ll carry you to bed, lean your weight on me,” you huffed as you helped him up the floor, making sure to take in most of his weight that you could.

The form of you, tears still streaming down your face and steps away from a breakdown, and his hunched form, weak and pliant, was a sight to behold. It was a sight after battle—after the white flag had been waved and the injured tying their best to find their way back to life.

It was sad. It was hopeful.

It was a brush on humanity’s eternal friend, death. Death that still loomed in the corners of the apartment, biding his time to take what was promised.

You laid him gently on the bed before running back to the spied kitchen, grabbing a glass of water. The smell of books permeated the air as if to try and bring your panicked mind back to the present. If it were any other day, you would have found yourself perusing his shelves of eclectic classic literature but this wasn’t the right time and place.

Your bare feet sliding across the floor to make its way back to the groaning figure on the bed, threatening to sit up.

“No,” you tapped his shoulder to get him back down. “I need you to rest.” 

“But—”

“No buts Spencer. Rest, I’ll stay here.” 

His drooping eyes reading yours, trying to find any type of lie that would break his being further than it already was. Spencer was a broken man and this was the first time you could see written in his eyes his plea for help and company. “You promise?”

“I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” 

His hands blindly groping across the bed spread before it found the treasure it was searching for, your hand. He enveloped his with yours, calloused fingers intertwining with smooth. A contrast that brought him comfort—you were here. You were real. You felt safe. You saved him.

He was alive.

And with that, his eyes closed to fall into a peaceful slumber, one that he hadn’t had in months. 

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

[hcneymooners]

౨ৎ kiss me, and you will see how important i am.

ex-wives!pazzi au. men and minors dni.

synopsis: nothing brings together two people like their child's birthday party and the subsequent emotional breakdown.

cw: angst, emotional hurt/comfort, happy ending though open, mentions of infidelity (assumed, but nothing occurred), i would say p is slightly toxic but i really think it's just two adults being complex human beings and making mistakes.

notes: you all were so lovely and kind to me following my pazzi debut. i wanted to post this because i've been sitting on it for a while. i love people who still love each other despite the distance. i hope you enjoy. as always feel free to come into my inbox. i love speaking to you. love you.

“have you not told your mother that we’re separated?”

paige looks up to find her ex-wife standing above her, staring her down in all of her quiet, effortless radiance. azzi looks like the american dream: sun-bronzed and golden, long-legged, with perfect, plump, dark pink lips. she’s wrapped in a mid-thigh dress the color of a late spring bloom—pale lilac, delicate but striking. the fabric spirals down the curves of her waist and hips, cinched in places by thin rings of fringe that sway as she shifts her weight. her curls are slicked back into a bun that blooms at the crown of her head, petals of hair shaped to align with the spring showers theme of the party.

paige hums low in her throat, fingers brushing the hem of azzi’s dress. “you look good, ma.”

azzi swats her hand away without hesitation, leveling her with a look—sharp, unimpressed. paige bites back a grin.

“thought of me when you got dressed?”

azzi’s brow furrows until realization flickers across her face. the purple. paige’s color. her lips part on a scoff, irritation slipping through in a low noise before she schools her features into a tight smile.

“no, i was not. i wasn’t thinking of you at all, actually," she says, her voice light, deceptively sweet. "not until your charming mother came up to me and said she was so glad to see me. oh, but that’s not all.”

paige arches a brow, intrigued, and reaches out to pull azzi closer by the waist, nudging her forward. “no?”

“no.” azzi lets out a breath, clutching the large present perched along her hip. the wrapping paper is a particular shade of green, the birthday girl’s favorite. “then she tells me she understands my brand partnerships have been monopolizing my time, which is why she hasn’t seen me with you in quite some time.”

paige leans back against her seat, stretching her legs out lazily. “i’m not seeing the problem, az.”

azzi stiffens. “you’re not—!” she cuts herself off, inhaling sharply through her nose, shoulders rising and falling as she tries to steady herself. “do you not understand how that makes me look?”

“like a busy wife?” paige quips, knowing full well she’s fanning the flames.

azzi’s eyes flash, but her voice is measured when she speaks again. “like a neglectful mother.”

that sobers paige instantly. she sits up, studying azzi’s face, the tension lining her features. “did she say that?”

“it’s implied, paige.” azzi shifts the present under her arm, pressing her fingers into the wrapped edges. “you’re always bringing our daughter around, always having fun with her. and then i take her for holidays, and it’s like—wow, azzi makes no effort to be there in any other way.” her throat tightens, and she shakes her head. “i mean, come on. i know you’re punishing me for leaving you, but can you at least give me this?”

paige’s tongue flicks out, pale pink swiping over her lower lip, brow knitting together. punishing azzi was never something she wanted to do. but before she can find the right words, a small blur of brown crashes into azzi’s legs, nearly sending her toppling over.

“mommy!”

azzi folds like a house of cards, collapsing to her knees in the grass without a care for her dress. she gathers their daughter into her arms, pulling her in so tightly it’s as if she’s afraid to let go.

“my mia,” azzi murmurs, voice low and thick with emotion. “happy birthday, baby.”

mia beams, the gap in her teeth dark and small, laughter bubbling up as she buries her face in her mother’s neck. it’s almost uncanny how much she looks like azzi. the same wide, joyful smile. the same burst of blush that rises along their cheeks when they’re excited. even the same curls, though looser—tumbling around the glittering spires of her birthday tiara.

azzi cradles mia’s face, thumbs stroking the plush of her cheeks. she fusses over her, straightening the sequined sage-green tutu and retying the laces of her chunky mini sneakers, her fingers gentle and practiced. paige knows it's a chance for her to collect herself. azzi hates crying in front of other people.

“mommy, i’ve been waiting for you! you weren't at home!”

“i’m sorry, baby. there was traffic,” azzi croaks, her voice betraying her. her hand flies to her throat—her tell, the reflex she always has when she’s trying not to cry. “but mommy sped a little bit. she just couldn’t wait to see her favorite girl.”

mia frowns. “you should be careful. mama says we shouldn’t go too fast, or we can get hurt.”

azzi exhales a quiet laugh, smoothing a hand down mia’s back. “yeah,” she whispers. “mama’s right.

paige clenches her jaw, something bitter and painful lodging itself deep in her ribs. she feels so sick at the idea that anyone could believe azzi doesn’t love their girl, this spitting image of her—maybe the only thing of azzi that she has left. she watches them—azzi, kneeling in the grass—and stands, her drink dangling dangerously from her hand, going to join the two. but then azzi stands and is gone—dragged away by mia’s small hand and even smaller strength.

she watches as azzi jogs along behind her, her heels puncturing the earth like glass through a lung. her hair bounces, streaked from the sun, and her body looks as though it’s trying to vibrate out of itself, her love so evident that it struggles to leave her and get to the child in front of her.

the light catches on the strands of her hair, identical to mia's who is bouncing with each hurried step.

and it’s so obvious—the way she moves, the way her whole body seems to vibrate with affection, her love so intense it barely fits inside her. it pours out of her like light, desperate to reach the child in front of her.

paige swallows hard.

𓃹

paige finds azzi in the kitchen, her hands braced on the countertop before they come up to wipe her face.

“why are you crying, mama? c’mere.”

azzi exhales sharply, shaking her head. “please don’t.”

paige doesn’t listen. she steps forward, hands curling around azzi’s waist, gentle but firm. azzi lets herself be held for a second. just a second. then she presses her hands against paige’s chest and cuts her off. she wraps her arms around herself as if she’s attempting to recreate the warmth.

paige sighs. “you mad at me?”

azzi laughs, quiet and humorless. “yeah, p, a little. there’s a point at which i can no longer take being ignored by my wife.”

the nickname just slips out. it’s muscle memory.

paige stills. “azzi.”

azzi tilts her head, searching her face. “i feel like—it’s just. you’ve only ever wanted me when you didn’t have me,” she murmurs. “and my whole life, i’ve been right there.”

paige opens her mouth, then closes it. she looks away, rubbing a hand over her jaw. “you know that ain’t true.”

“and then we got married, and i thought this would be it. we’d be happy and okay. but then—i don’t know. you were less my wife and more the most famous woman i knew saying hello from my ipad.”

paige’s eyes lower, growing dead and dark. azzi watches her for a long moment, recognizes the signs of her checking out, then sighs. “paige. why haven’t you told anyone we’re separated?”

paige blinks at her, called back into the present, and then lets out a short, incredulous breath. “azzi, you can’t be serious. i don’t want this.”

azzi’s jaw clenches. her hands shake as she turns away, pressing her palms to the counter again. the position emphasizes the toned silhouette of her arms.

paige steps closer, voice softer now. “i don’t want this.”

azzi swallows hard, staring at the marble beneath her hands. “i’m tired, p,” she says quietly. “i just want to wake up and love you and know you love me back. i just want to go on my walk and come back to find you there. i want to be with mia all the time. i want you to start talking to me.” her throat tightens. “but i’m never going to get that, am i? maybe it’s just too much to ask.”

paige exhales sharply, jaw tightening. “azzi—baby, you have to know that i didn’t step out on you. i wasn’t with anyone else. i wasn't. i just got caught up in the pressure and—”

“i know,” azzi says, finally looking at her. “i know, p, everything i do, i always understand. i always understood. but honestly, infidelity would have been better than the things i was feeling.

paige runs a hand over her face, lets out a rough laugh. “like what?”

“endless loneliness that was never going to stop.” paige remains quiet, her teeth digging into her bottom lip until it splits. “then we did ivf and had mia, and for a moment i was okay. i was better. i was good.”

“i couldn’t complain,” azzi says. “i didn’t.”

paige shakes her head, muttering something under her breath. “man, you act like i’m tryna hurt you.”

azzi closes her eyes. “it’s not like that.”

paige doesn’t know what to do with her hands. she shifts her weight like she wants to argue, but azzi doesn’t give her the chance.

“the fact that it’s not intentional is what makes it hurt so much,” azzi says after a moment. “that’s why i kept letting it go. it’s so easy to forgive you.” her mouth twists into a pained smile. “despite your mistakes, you’re not a malicious person.”

paige presses her lips together, her fingers twitching at her sides. “azzi, please—”

azzi shakes her head again, this time slower, more deliberate. “you don’t mean to hurt me, and so i’m still here. it’s my fault, really. no one is asking me to stand in the wreckage of the life i can’t seem to walk away from. that i still want.”

paige swallows hard, her throat bobbing. she wants to reach out, to pull azzi close, but she doesn’t. for the first time in her life, she doesn’t know how to reach her. azzi breaks the silence, wiping underneath her eyes with a bit of paper towel.

“come one. it’ll be time for presents soon.”

paige watches her walk away for the millionth time, watches how her back ripples with the flex of her muscles. in the following silence, she only thinks of azzi’s eyes and how dark they are. just like mia’s.

𓃹

the night is a welcome change. the house is quieter, the soft hum of the city bleeding in through the balcony doors. the partygoers have gone, goody bags in hand and heads lolling sleepily along their parents’s shoulders. mia herself had been babbling nonsensically, her hand tight around her brand-new barbie doll. paige had it specifically made to look like her mommy.

it was mia’s favorite present of the day. it made azzi cry for the second time that afternoon.

inside, the house is still cluttered with evidence of a child’s birthday well celebrated, a day well lived. paper plates are stacked on the counter, ribbons forgotten on the floor, the faint scent of frosting lingering in the air. paige tosses a few cups into the trash and wipes down the counter before realizing azzi isn’t beside her anymore.

she roams the halls, peeking into rooms until she finds her on the balcony just outside of paige’s childhood bedroom, leaning against the railing, a thin, silver vape pinched between her fingers. the glow of it flares as she takes a slow inhale, her body unmoving except for the way her shoulders rise and fall.

paige frowns. “since when do you smoke?”

azzi exhales, a thin stream of vapor curling into the night. it smells a bit too sweet, a few inches too far from the cherry it aims to evoke. it’s clearly not hers.

“since i shattered my knee and my dreams and became my top athlete wife’s accessory?” her voice is light, but there’s a sharp edge beneath it. “i’m kidding. only recently. i don’t do it all the time, though, and never around mia.”

she shifts and paige steps closer, leaning against the railing beside her and sliding her hands into the pockets of her black sweatpants.

“truth be told, i hate how it makes me feel.”

“so why are you doing it?”

azzi huffs out a laugh, breathless, humorless. she tilts her head back and blinks up at the sky like she’s searching for something. “feels better than this.”

that’s when paige sees it. the sheen in azzi’s eyes, the way her lashes are clumped together, the tiny tremor in her fingers. she’s been crying again.

paige exhales, something tight wrapping around her ribs. without thinking, she reaches out and takes the vape from azzi’s hand, flicking it off and setting it on the balcony ledge. azzi doesn’t stop her.

“you’re such a crybaby,” paige mutters, but it comes out soft, almost affectionate. she turns, crowding azzi’s space just enough. “i don’t know why you don’t talk to me—”

“i don’t want to bother you,” azzi says, and her voice is incredibly small.

azzi looks at her then, really looks at her. for a second, it feels like the air between them shifts, something raw and fragile opening up. paige can feel her pulse in her throat, a nervous tremor she isn’t used to.

azzi reaches up, slow and deliberate, and cradles paige’s face in her hands. her thumbs skim the sharp edges of her jaw, her touch featherlight but grounding. paige exhales, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. when she opens them again, azzi is watching her with something so deep it makes her ache.

“you know i’m so proud of you, right?” azzi whispers. “regardless.”

paige lets out a breath, something falling away miles down inside of her. she nods, just barely, and then—because she can’t help herself—she presses their foreheads together.

“you know that i love you, right?” paige says, voice rough. “for fucking real, az. you’re it for me.”

azzi closes her eyes, and when she breathes in, paige breathes with her. she doesn’t say anything, but her hands stay where they are, holding paige steady like she’s afraid to let go. her grip tightens, and then she goes to pull away but paige stills her with a hand around her wrist. azzi is cooperative with her touch this time, allowing paige to guide her back into the bedroom.

she doesn’t ask any questions when paige pulls her to the bed, pushing her down until she’s on her side. her head is heavy, afflicted with the buzz of nicotine, and she stays silent as her wife climbs in beside her. the two of them are two crescent moons made of flesh, mirroring one another in their grief and desires. paige presses their foreheads together once again and azzi focuses on the feeling of her warm skin, the hard bone.

she breathes out and paige breathes in as if to inhale her. azzi’s breath smells like cherry—real cherry.

“i hate it when things change,” azzi says, and her voice is strained with emotion.

“you could never make a decision,” paige teases, and azzi laughs wetly.

silence, then,

“p?”

“hmm?”

“i don’t want this either.”

paige pulls her closer, lifts one of her legs so that her dress slides up, and reveals the soft meat of her thigh. she settles azzi’s legs on top of hers, ensuring that they’re closer together.

“i know, ma. that’s what i’ve been trying to tell you.”

azzi’s buzz continues, drifting gently over her limbs until they’re heavy; her thoughts hazy around the edges. the world feels softer somehow; the pain is less jagged. she can feel every point where her body meets paige's—hip to hip, chest to chest, the tangle of their legs a familiar comfort she's been starving for.

the familiar scent of azzi’s perfume—something floral, threaded with dry vanilla, and subtle—fills paige's lungs. it's the same perfume paige had bought her for their fifth anniversary, the one azzi had worn every day since, even after she'd left.

"where you staying at?" paige asks, her voice low and rough against azzi's ear.

"the marriott downtown," azzi murmurs, her fingertips tracing idle patterns on the cotton of paige's shirt. "just until i figure things out."

paige makes a noise in the back of her throat, disapproving. "nah, i don’t like that. don't want you living out of suitcases in some hotel. and marriotts are very unsafe, you know. read an article that said they have the highest break-in rates of any hotel franchise.”

“and where was this article from?” azzi asked, her voice thick with amusement.

“girl, don’t even worry about it.” her hand travels up azzi's spine, warm and steady. azzi presses back into them, her body contorting in its search for comfort. "just come back home to me, mama. i'll sleep on the couch if you want, but at least i'll know you're safe."

"safe," azzi repeats, a small, broken laugh escaping her. "as if that's ever been the issue with us."

"it's always been the issue," paige counters, her fingers now threading through the loose curls at the nape of azzi's neck, careful not to disturb her bun. "you not feeling safe enough to tell me when i'm fucking up."

the honesty surprises them both. azzi shifts, propping herself up on an elbow to look at paige's face. in the dim light filtering in from the balcony, her features are soft, open in a way azzi hasn't seen in months.

"maybe we could try therapy," paige suggests, the words so deeply obvious of their difficulty.

azzi's eyes widen slightly. "you'd do that?"

"for you? for us?" paige's throat works as she swallows. "yeah. i would."

azzi leans in, drawn by something familiar and inevitable between them. their lips meet, soft and hesitant at first, then with growing urgency. it's not frantic, not desperate, but deep and prying. when they touch like this—in any capacity really—their lives feel as though they are their most sustainable.

paige's hands drift to azzi's waist, holding her close as if afraid she might evaporate. they're trying to get closer, always closer, as if the mere millimeters of space between them are too much to bear. azzi shifts until she's practically melted into paige, their bodies remembering each other in the dark.

they are teenagers again, rediscovering that the other feels the same, trying to live inside of each other.

when they break apart, azzi's lips are kiss-swollen and so dark, all the blood sucked to the surface. her eyes are heavy-lidded from more than just her high.

"i never signed the papers," she confesses, voice barely above a whisper.

paige stares at her for a moment before a genuine laugh bubbles up from her chest. "you really can't make a decision to save your life, can you?"

"shut up," azzi mumbles, burying her face in paige's neck, but there's no heat behind it. she loops a hand through paige’s hair, taking in the spill of gold across her palm. "i kept finding reasons to put it off."

"what kinda reasons?" paige asks, her hand sliding beneath the hem of azzi's dress to rest on the warm skin of her thigh, the touch reverent and possessive all at once.

"i don’t know. um, mia's birthday was coming up. then it was our anniversary. then it was…" she trails off, her voice dropping even lower. "then it was because every time i went to sign, i couldn't—i couldn’t remember why i was leaving in the first place."

the admission hangs in the air between them, heavy with implication. paige's hand stills on azzi's skin.

"you still love me," paige says, not a question but a revelation.

"that was never the problem," azzi replies, the words muffled against paige's collarbone. "loving you is like breathing. i don't know how to stop, and i’d die if i did."

paige's arms tighten around her. they still aren’t looking at each other. "then don't. come home, az. we'll figure the rest out."

"it's not that simple—"

"it is. it could be," paige insists, but her voice is gentler now. "i know i fucked up. i know i let my career become everything. but i swear to god, az, i'm done with that shit. nothing's worth losing you. nothing."

azzi lifts her head, her gaze meeting paige's in the semi-darkness. the proximity has left her thoughts fluid, boundaries blurred, making it easier to say what she's been holding back. "hope is a dangerous thing, p, and you’re giving it to me.”

“i know," paige agrees, her thumb brushing over azzi's bottom lip. "but what's the alternative? living half a life? watching mia grow up in two different homes when we both know that ain't what we want?"

azzi closes her eyes, letting the weight of paige's words wash over her. when she opens them again, there's a quiet determination there, fragile but present.

"i'll consider coming home," she says finally, her practicality still firm despite her emotional exhaustion. "but we have to go to therapy, and you have to try. no excuses."

relief floods paige's face, so naked and earnest that it makes azzi's heart clench. "yes, yes, okay," she whispers, pressing her forehead to azzi's. "thank you, baby.”

"you don’t have to thank me," azzi replies, playing nonchalantly but there's a softness to her words that takes away the sting. her hand comes up to rest against paige's jaw, her thumb brushing over the bone. “i want—i miss you so much. it hurts sometimes, aches right inside of my ribs. i haven't been able to sleep without you.”

"i'm right here," paige murmurs against her temple. "i'm always gonna be right here, waiting for you."

they lie there in the quiet, bodies intertwined, the world spinning just beyond the balcony doors. neither speaks for a long time, content to exist in this fragile moment. azzi closes her eyes, her head heavy on paige's chest, rising and falling with each breath. the buzz is fading, reality seeping back in, but she holds onto this feeling—hopes that she will get to feel it again.

she thinks of mia, pictures their baby girl sleeping with her mouth slack and none the wiser to the complexities of loving someone else. she hopes she never finds out.

"you're it for me, az," paige murmurs into her hair, the words a quiet repetition from earlier. "always have been."

azzi doesn't respond for a moment, but her fingers tighten in paige's shirt, holding on as if to say: i know. me too.

"i know," azzi says, out loud this time. "you’re it for me too. i mean, you're paige. we go together. you're everything. i don’t think there was ever anyone else for me."

paige's heart clenches, a painful pulse in her chest. she smooths a hand down azzi’s side.

her heart pumps, thumps out a message.

azzi’s heart thumps back.

© hcneymooners.

[gongyoosgf]

diet pepsi. - a thangyu x reader fic

warnings: minors dni!! smutsmutsmut, reader has female genitalia! dom!thanos and namgyu, sub!reader, alcohol/drug use, thanos and namgyu do coke off readers thigh., lots of tension, nicknames like baby, senorita, sweetheart, slut, etc. groping, dry humping, throat fucking, DEGRADING, praise, fingering, overstimulation, edging, rough/unprotected sex, lowkey hand kink if you squint, mean namgyu, thanos is his own warning

an: my first smut so im sorry if its not up to your expectations! this is my interpretation of the characters so im sorry if it doesn’t line up with what you think. this is a looooonnnnngggggg fic so feel free to just skip to the smut :) tips and constructive criticism are appreciated ♡ i love you all!!

the club is alive. neon lights cut through the smoky air, pulsing in sync with the heavy bass that vibrates through the floor. the scent of sweat, spilled liquor, and cheap cologne clings to the space, thick and intoxicating. people move together on the dance floor, their bodies lost in the music, hands on waists, lips brushing against flushed skin.

but you? you're perched at the bar, untouched by the chaos, sipping on a tall glass of diet pepsi like it's the most expensive cocktail in the room. the ice clinks softly as you swirl it, the carbonation fizzing against your lips with every sip. you can feel the eyes on you, burning the back of your skull.

"you've gotta be kidding me," a voice cuts through the noise, rich with amusement.

the man who speaks leans against the counter beside you, elbow propped up, silver chains glinting under the neon glow. his entire presence is draped in black, fitted slacks, an unbuttoned silk shirt that teases the sharp lines of his collarbone. a silver ring catches the light as he lazily runs a hand through his dark wolfcut, the layered strands shifting effortlessly back into place. his eyes, hooded but keen, flicker from your drink to your face, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"soda? that's your drink of choice tonight?"

just behind him, another figure looms, exuding a different kind of presence. one that commands attention without needing to ask for it. his hair is an unmistakable shade of deep purple, styled just messy enough to look effortless. a thick silver cross hangs from his neck, draped over the colorful top he has on in contrast to the man next to him. his frame is broad, his gaze sharp, with dark eyes scanning you with an intensity that makes the air feel heavier.

the purple haired man slides into the seat on your other side, his presence heavier, more controlled. he's holding a glass of dark whiskey, fingers wrapped around the crystal like he owns the place. he takes a slow sip, then sets it down with a soft *clink* before eyeing you. "she's different," he muses, voice smooth, almost approving. "everyone here is drowning in shots, and you're sipping soda like you're above it all."

you shrug, tilting your head slightly, letting their words settle before taking another sip. the cold fizz lingers on your tongue. "maybe i just like the taste."

the man dressed in black huffs a quiet laugh, studying you like he's trying to figure out a puzzle. his dark eyes flicker between your face and your drink, intrigued. "nah. you could go to any lousy restaurant and get a soda. you just like being in control."

"maybe," you admit, setting your glass down gently, fingers tracing the rim. you glance between them, eyes sharp, playful. "or maybe i just like watching idiots like you two get wasted while i stay sober enough to remember every bad decision you make."

you shift your gaze fully back to the other man with the colorful hair as he chuckles, shaking his head as he swirls his drink. "you think we’re the ones making bad decisions?"

the other leans in, closing the space between you just enough that you catch the faintest trace of his cologne. his voice dips lower, smoother, almost dangerous. "nah, sweetheart. you’re in the club with us. that means you already made one."

"i’m namgyu," he finally says, his name rolling off his tongue smoothly, like it belongs in this space, like it belongs in your ears. his gaze flickers to yours, watching for a reaction.

beside him, the taller man leans against the bar, arms crossed, the silver cross around his neck resting against the multicolored fabric of his shirt. his deep purple hair falls slightly over his forehead as he looks at you.

"thanos," he says simply, copying the other’s tone.

namgyu rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he glances at thanos. "real smooth," he teases before turning back to you. "and you? got a name, or are we just calling you diet pepsi all night?"

you consider your options. give them your name? keep them guessing? call their bluff and see how long they’ll humor this back-and-forth?

“diet pepsi’s fine.”

the smirk lingers on namgyu’s lips as he watches you take another slow sip, your eyes flickering between him and thanos like you’re weighing your options. the beat of the music feels as if it’s pressing into your skin, but here at the bar, time seems to slow.

thanos leans back slightly, taking another sip of his whiskey before setting the glass down. “so, what’s your deal, really?” he asks, his gaze steady, measuring. “you don’t drink, but you come here anyway. just for fun?”

before you can answer, namgyu leans in slightly, dropping his voice just enough to make it feel like a secret. “don’t tell me you’re waiting for someone.” his dark eyes flicker. “because that would just be tragic.”

thanos hums in agreement, though his gaze stays steady on yours. “if you are,” he says, “they’re late.”

you stare at the two in amusement before letting your eyes land on namgyu. “i’m not waiting on anyone. i’m here alone.”

namgyu chuckles, shaking his head. “you’re a real mystery, you know that?” he shifts, resting his chin on his hand as he studies you. “the kind that makes guys do stupid things just to figure you out.”

namgyu grins, sitting up suddenly, his silver rings catching the neon light. “you’re obviously not shy about standing out. let’s see if you can keep up.”

“with what?” you arch a brow.

“why don’t you dance with us, hm?” thanos whispers into your ear, sending a nervous shiver down your spine.

you hesitate, just for a second. the music shifts to something darker, sultrier, and the bodies on the dance floor move with a different kind of intensity.

“i don’t know,” you muse. “i was kind of enjoying my view from here.”

thanos tuts, reaching for your wrist—not forceful, but insistent. “come on, why don’t you give us a chance?”

with a slow, deliberate movement, you set your glass down and slide off the stool, your fingers slipping into thanos’ for just a moment before you pull away, stepping toward the dance floor. namgyu quickly follows, grinning. he watches, shaking his head.

the air is thick with sweat and bass as you step onto the dance floor, the bodies around you moving in time with the pulsing beat. the lights flash overhead, cutting through the darkness in streaks of electric blue and crimson. namgyu is close behind, his energy crackling with anticipation, while thanos lingers just a step back, observing.

thanos doesn’t hesitate. the moment you're in the thick of it, his hands find your waist, fingers grazing the fabric of your dress like he’s daring you to pull away. “no backing out, senorita,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing.

you smirk, letting the music guide your movements as you press your body into his just enough to make a point. “who said anything about backing out?”

his grip tightens slightly, and for once, thanos seems momentarily caught off guard, not by your words, but by the way you move, effortlessly matching his rhythm. he recovers fast, though, flashing that signature grin, the one that makes it impossible to tell if he’s planning something charming or reckless. namgyu watches, arms crossed, lips curved in mild amusement.

“you just gonna stand there?” you call over the music, throwing a glance over your shoulder at him.

thanos laughs, spinning you so your back is against his chest. his breath is warm against your ear. “don’t pay him too much mind, he’ll get out here when he feels like it.”

you hum, tilting your head slightly, your body still moving in sync with the music. “and when will that be?”

for a moment, namgyu just watches you, his dark eyes taking you in like he’s trying to find the answer to a question you haven’t even asked. then, instead of responding, he walks up to you and reaches out, fingers brushing against you. it’s subtle, nothing like thanos’ reckless touches, but it sends a wave of energy through your body.

thanos notices, of course. he always does. his grin widens, but there’s something sharp behind it now, something almost territorial. “careful, gyu,” he mutters. “wouldn’t want you getting in over your head.”

namgyu doesn’t flinch. “you assume i don’t already know what i’m doing.”

your heart pounds from the way the air between the three of you seems to thicken. without thinking, you carefully place your hands over namgyu’s shoulders while simultaneously pushing yourself back on thanos.

“holy shit,” thanos mutters, his hard-on evident against your back. namgyu watches with inviting eyes, letting you run your hands all over his shirt before unbuttoning a few at the top.

thanos spins you back around, his eyes dark with something unreadable. namgyu lingers just close enough to make his presence known. namgyu puts his hands on your waist, replacing thanos’ as thanos brings his hands up to your chest. you let yourself get completely lost in the feeling. lost in the feeling of two attractive men who treat you like you’re the only girl in the world while the music only seems to get louder.

one second, namgyu is there, watching, kneading at the skin on your waist, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him. the next, he’s gone.

thanos doesn’t seem to notice or care. “you’re holding back,” he murmurs, voice low against your ear. “thought you were supposed to be the one in control.”

you just smirk, letting your hips roll a little slower, a little more deliberate, watching the way his breath catches. “and yet,” you tease, “you’re the one trying so hard to keep up with me.”

thanos opens his mouth, probably to throw back some cocky remark, but before he can, namgyu is back.

you feel his presence before you see him, the shift in energy, the weight of his stare. when you turn, he’s standing just behind you like he was earlier, only this time he has something with him.

in his ringed hand, he holds something dark and rich swirling in a shot glass held carefully between his fingers.

he doesn’t say anything at first, just studies you with that expression of his before lifting the glass toward your lips.

“it’s not too strong,” he finally says, voice smooth, steady. “i promise.”

you raise a brow, amusement flickering in your eyes. “and what exactly is this?”

he doesn’t answer. instead, he tilts the glass just slightly, close enough that you catch the faint scent, something smoky, laced with something sweet. not whiskey. not tequila. something else.

“something i think you’ll like” he finally says.

you hesitate, lips just barely brushing the rim of the glass, your pulse steady despite the way the moment stretches. there’s something almost intimate in the way namgyu is watching you, the way his fingers hover just close enough that if you moved even a fraction, they’d brush against your skin.

and maybe it’s reckless, maybe this is exactly the kind of bad decision you swore you wouldn’t make, but something about the way he’s looking at you makes you want to play along.

so, you part your lips and take the shot.

the liquid burns, but not in the way you expect. it’s smoother than you thought it would be, rich and dark, with a lingering heat that settles low in your stomach. there’s a hint of something you can’t quite place, something familiar yet foreign, a contradiction in itself.

they both watch, waiting.

you swallow, letting the warmth settle, then tilt your head, eyes locked on namgyu. “not bad,” you admit.

his lips twitch, just barely, almost like he was expecting that answer.

thanos, on the other hand, scoffs. “you would just take anything we give you, isn’t that right?”

namgyu‘s lips barely quirk into a smile, “what a whore, grinding on a dude she just met while letting another feed her a random drink.”

they talk about you like you’re not there.

you should be upset that namgyu just called you a whore, but with whatever drink he just gave you coursing through your veins, it only makes your hips move quicker against thanos.

namgyu watches you for a beat, as if making sure he has your full attention, then leans in slightly. his voice is low, just loud enough to be heard over the music.

“come on,” he says, tilting his head toward the back of the club. “i wanna show you something.”

you glance at thanos, who raises a brow, looking almost amused. but there’s something else there too, like he knows something you don’t. he doesn’t say anything, just runs a hand through his hair, then gestures for you to follow.

namgyu leads the way, cutting through the crowd with the kind of quiet confidence that makes people instinctively step aside. you walk between them, thanos at your back, the heavy beat of the music fading slightly as you move toward a secluded hallway.

a bouncer stands at the entrance of a dimly lit doorway, arms crossed over his chest. he barely acknowledges thanos and namgyu before stepping aside, letting the three of you pass without question.

the room inside is different from the rest of the club, more intimate, more controlled. the neon chaos is replaced with softer lighting, casting long shadows against the sleek furniture. a plush leather couch stretches along the wall, occupied by a few others, people who exude the same energy as thanos and namgyu. confident. dangerous. unbothered.

a tall man with a bunch of tattoos and gold rings stacked on his fingers lounges in the corner, swirling a glass of something dark. a woman in a sleek black dress sits beside him, legs crossed, her gaze flicking toward you with mild interest. you study all of the people in the room with an intense focus.

thanos gestures toward the couch, wordlessly inviting you to sit. you hesitate, just for a second, then lower yourself onto the soft leather. namgyu drops down beside you with a lazy grin, slinging an arm across the back of the couch, his fingers just barely grazing your shoulder.

thanos takes a seat across from you, leaning forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees.

“this is different,” you mutter, glancing between the both of them, waiting for someone to fill the silence that lingers in the air.

namgyu chuckles and tilts your head back, “not really that loud environment you love, is it?”

before you can say anything, thanos lifts a hand in the air, and almost instantly, one of the guys at the far end of the room pulls something from his jacket, setting a small, velvet-lined box on the table between you.

your eyes flicker to it, curiosity sparking.

namgyu leans in, smirking. “still feeling in control, hm?”

your pulse ticks up. not with fear, but with something else. anticipation. excitement.

you meet thanos’s gaze, steady and unwavering, and rest your fingers lightly against the table in front of you.

“i guess that depends,” you murmur, tilting your head. “what exactly am i looking at?”

you run your tongue over your bottom lip, leaning forward slightly, your fingertips tracing the box in front of you.

namgyu grins, reaching for the box with slow, deliberate movements, as if he’s savoring the anticipation. “that,” he says, flipping open the lid with a flick of his wrist, “depends on what kind of night you’re looking for.”

inside, nestled against black velvet, are a few neatly wrapped packets. small, unassuming, but unmistakable. alongside them, a clear bag of colorful pills. whatever it is, it looks odd. and probably illegal.

your expression doesn’t change, but you feel namgyu watching you, waiting for a reaction.

you lift your eyes to thanos. he’s still calm, unreadable, but there’s something expectant in the way he holds himself. he’s testing you. not just your curiosity, but your control.

“you think this is my kind of thing?” you ask.

namgyu laughs, slouching back against the couch, his fingers resting your shoulder. “oh, i don’t know,” he muses. “you’re full of surprises.”

thanos leans forward slightly, resting his hands on his knees. “it’s not about what we think,” he says. “it’s about what you want.”

you exhale softly, tapping your nails against namgyu’s leg. the music from the club outside is distant now, like a heartbeat pulsing just beneath the surface.

“i don’t do cheap thrills,” you say, flicking your eyes between the two men.

namgyu sighs, shaking his head. “you really are something else, aren’t you?”

you smirk, reaching for the box, examining the powder. “took you this long to figure that out?”

thanos leans back, watching you with content eyes as you slowly rip open the bag he gives a nod to namgyu and with a silent understanding, namgyu carefully takes the bag from your hands.

namgyu nudges your knee with his own, looking at the bag you earlier opened. “i wanna try something, if you trust us?”

you consider his question, aware of the weight it carries. trust is a delicate thing, especially with people you've just met. while the evening has been enjoyable, it's natural to feel cautious.

“trust isn't something to be given lightly. it's earned." you whisper, looking at namgyu’s ringed hands.

namgyu’s grin widens, his eyes following your gaze. thanos watches closely, a glint of approval in his eyes.

namgyu shakes his head like he can’t decide whether to be impressed or frustrated. “you love playing hard to get, don’t you?”

you smirk, shifting just slightly so your knee brushes against his. “i just like keeping you guessing.”

“yeah? maybe we like to keep you guessing, sweetheart.” without a second beat, namgyu carefully holds the open bag of powder and tilts it slightly, the substance spilling over your leg.

you gasp, looking over at thanos, who seems to be enjoying this. the way he studies you, the way he lets you navigate the tension in the room, it’s deliberate. he doesn’t take his eyes off your leg, coated with a white powder.

“namgyu,” he mumbles, “it’s not fair that you get to have all the fun.”

namgyu nods over to thanos, who quickly gets up from his chair across from you. you watch as he makes room on the other side of the leather couch, knee brushing against yours.

you try not to let the dip in the couch shake the powder dancing across your thigh, waiting for the next move.

the others in the room have gone back to their own conversations, but you can feel their awareness, the way they’re still listening, still watching.

namgyu hands the bag to thanos, who happily takes the bag of the remaining substance into his tattooed hands.

thanos grins, his fingers playing idly with the plastic. “you’re enjoying this,” he says easily. “the power play. the fact that we’re both sitting here trying to figure you out, and you love every second of it.”

you don’t deny it. you don’t confirm it either.

instead, you lean back against the couch, letting your gaze drift between the two of them. “you two are just fun to play with.”

thanos simply watches you, quiet for a moment before nodding, following namgyu’s earlier movements and pouring the remaining substance onto your thigh. “fair enough.”

your breath hitches in your throat, trying not to show how nervous you really are.

namgyu leans forward, slow and deliberate, until he’s just close enough that you can feel the warmth of him against your leg, presence like a storm waiting to break. his voice is low, meant only for you.

“do you still trust us, sweetheart?”

the air between you is thick with something unspoken, something dangerous. namgyu doesn’t move away, doesn’t blink, he’s giving you a choice. you can pull back, keep the control you claim to love, or you can see just how far this power play goes.

thanos watches with thinly veiled amusement. his fingers drum lazily against your thigh, but there’s a sharpness in his gaze, an anticipation like he’s waiting for something to break.

you hold namgyu’s stare, letting the silence stretch. then, ever so slowly, you tilt your chin down slightly, just enough to match his proximity.

“yes” you murmur, voice steady despite the way your pulse ticks up.

in the blink of an eye, almost like they planned it, both namgyu and thanos go down until their noses gently brush against your thigh, breathing in the thick powder.

namgyu’s movements are slow, getting all he can, while thanos’ movements are messy and quick.

thanos throws his head back against the couch with a loud, “fuck!”

namgyu rests his head against your thigh now, breathing heavily. once he takes a final deep breath, feeling the drug flow through his body, he leans up, face inches away from your chest and stares darts into your eyes.

namgyu lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “shit, this is good.”

you sit there, completely frozen.

did you seriously just let two strangers do coke off your thigh?

you let out a shaky breath, letting your gaze rest on thanos instead of the man so close to you. you watch his adam’s apple bob up and down, before he pulls his head from the back of the couch and gives you a lazy smile, his eyes half-hooded.

“you look tense," he rumbles, voice thick with amusement. "you want some, pretty?

your face contorts into one of disgust, your stomach twisting at the casual arrogance in his tone.

"i'm good," you say flatly, shifting away slightly, but his gaze never wavers.

thanos chuckles, deep and slow, like he finds your reaction amusing. his tatted fingers drum idly against the arm of the couch.

"suit yourself," he muses, stretching his arms out, taking up a good bit of the couch. "but you should learn to relax. i don’t bite… unless you ask nicely."

your jaw clenches. you’re not sure what’s worse, the teasing or the fact that he’s so unbothered about it.

"you really should take it as a compliment," namgyu murmurs, tilting his head to glance up at you once more. his voice is smooth but hoarse, as if he’s simply observing rather than intruding. "he doesn’t offer this to just anyone."

thanos exhales through his nose, something between a sigh and a chuckle. he shifts in his seat, leaning back slightly, legs spread that silver cross dangles against his chest, rising and falling with each slow breath.

“come here, angel.”

it’s not a question. it’s not even a request. it’s a command wrapped in something deceptively soft.

the weight of the words sends something sharp through your spine, something thrilling and unexpected. you hesitate, not because you don’t want to, but because thanos doesn’t seem like the type to say things just to say them. he expects you to listen.

you pull yourself off the couch for a moment, and thanos lifts a hand, resting it lightly against your hip. not pulling, just holding it there, solid and steady.

and when you finally settle onto his lap, his other hand finds your thigh, fingers curling just enough to hold you in place. his body is warm, solid beneath you. and the way he exhales, just the slightest shift in his breath, like this is exactly where he wanted you.

“comfortable?” he asks, low and smooth.

you nod slowly, feeling the warmth of thanos beneath you, the weight of his hands keeping you in place. his fingers flex just slightly against your thigh.

but your eyes? your eyes drift to namgyu.

he’s watching you. watching this.

his hair falls slightly over his face, shadowing his hooded gaze. “you look good like that,” he murmurs, lips curving into something just short of a smirk.

thanos hums, low and satisfied, his grip on you tightening just slightly. “she does, doesn’t she?” his deep voice tickling the shell of your ear.

your pulse kicks up, just a little. maybe it’s the way they’re looking at you. maybe it’s the weight of the moment. or maybe it’s the way you can feel thanos’ slow, steady breath against your neck while namgyu watches you from across the small space between you.

namgyu exhales through his nose, shaking his head like he’s amused. “and here i thought you’d be the one making us work for it,” he smiles, dark eyes glinting. “but look at you.”

thanos’ hand trails idly along your thigh, his fingers toying with the hem of your dress. he doesn’t say anything, but you can feel him as he shifts beneath you, in the way his hold stays firm.

“you sure you can handle both of us, hm?” namgyu says, like he already knows the answer.

your breath catches, just for a second.

thanos shifts beneath you, his fingers pressing slightly into your thigh while his dick is just inches away from where you need it most. his body is solid beneath you, steady, as if grounding you even as the energy between the three of you sharpens.

you look up, meeting namgyu’s gaze head-on. “you sound confident,” you murmur, voice steady despite the way your pulse is racing. “you sure it’s me who should be worried?”

namgyu’s tongue swipes over his bottom lip as he exhales a quiet laugh. “oh she’s got a fucking mouth on her, huh?”

thanos hums in agreement, his grip on your waist tightening for just a moment before relaxing again. “i noticed.”

you bite your lip as you feel thanos start to slowly rock your against his own, trying to find some friction. you can feel how wet you are, and you’re sure he can, too.

you shift slightly on thanos’s lap, just to see if he’ll react. he throws his head back on the couch and looks up at the ceiling, letting his eyes shut at the feeling.

namgyu notices, of course he does. he pulls your chin up to look him in the eyes as you rock against thanos, pulling your lip from between your teeth and dragging his finger against the plush skin.

“you like putting on a show, don’t you?” his dark eyes flicker with something teasing, “slut.”

your breath catches as you clench around nothing, “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say smoothly, tilting your head just enough to feign innocence.

namgyu exhales a short laugh, shaking his head.“oh, you definitely do,” he muses, the corner of his mouth curling. “look at you, desperately moving on thanos’ lap, acting like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.”

thanos hums in agreement, almost not noticing your hips stutter to a stop. you shift slightly, moving to lift yourself off thanos’s lap, the tension crackling between the three of you thick enough to drown in.

“did i say stop?” namgyu asks, thumb pressing into your chin harshly.

you swallow, lips parting, but namgyu’s thumb presses a little harder against your chin, stopping whatever excuse you were about to give.

“go on,” he murmurs, “tell us you don’t love this attention.”

thanos exhales, low and steady, his presence behind you solid, unshaken. "she does," he groans, pulling his head off the couch. “she just wants to see what happens if she runs.”

namgyu clicks his tongue, shaking his head like he’s disappointed. “bad habit, sweetheart.” his grip on your chin softens just slightly, but his eyes stay sharp. “didn’t your parents teach you that if you start something, you finish it?”

a soft, needy sound escapes you before you can stop it. a quiet whine, barely audible over the faint murmurs of the others, the distant music of the club, but loud enough for them to hear. loud enough for namgyu’s eyes to widen.

“jesus christ,” thanos smiles, pushing his face into the crook of your neck, kissing the skin there.

namgyu exhales a slow breath, shaking his head. “fucking pathetic,” he smiles, his voice dripping with amusement. “barely had to do anything, and you’re already desperate.” his thumb traces your jaw again, the cool metal of his rings grounding against your flushed skin.

behind you, thanos hums in quiet agreement, his breath warm against your ear. “guess she just needed a little push.” his tone is smooth, but you feel the satisfaction in the way he holds you in place. “didn’t take much, either.”

“you were made to be ruined.” namgyu mutters.

your lips part, but no sound comes out. you try to swallow the lump forming in your throat, but even that feels like too much effort under their gaze. your eyes dart between them, looking back at thanos with wide eyes.

"people will see," you whisper, your voice barely audible.

namgyu's smirk deepens, something dark flickering in his gaze as he tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes. the weight of his touch makes it impossible to ignore him.

"that's the problem, angel," he murmurs, voice smooth as silk. "you like that, don’t you?"

behind you, thanos chuckles lowly. his grip on you tightens just slightly, like he's making sure you don’t even think about pulling away. "she does," he muses, his breath warm against your ear. "that little shiver? that wasn’t fear." his fingers trail down your side. "that was excitement.”

your breath catches, a new wave of heat rushing through you. just outside the door, the club is packed, neon lights flashing, bodies moving in sync with the music. yet here, in their hold, it’s like the rest of the world fades into a blur.

namgyu leans in just a fraction more, his lips brushing against your cheek. “let them watch,” he whispers, his voice laced with something wicked. “let them see who you really belong to.”

his fingers tighten around your chin, tilting your face up just the way he wants before his lips crash against yours, hot and demanding. there’s nothing gentle about it. he kisses you like you’re the only thing keeping him alive.

his teeth graze your bottom lip before he bites down, just hard enough to make you gasp. It’s all the invitation he needs before his tongue slips past your parted lips, deepening the kiss.

“see?” he murmurs, pulling away from your lips. “you love being handled.”

“please,” you mutter, completely at their mercy.

namgyu laughs, almost as if he’s making fun of you. “please?” he repeats, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “that’s all you’ve got?”

thanos exhales a quiet chuckle behind you, “i think she can do better than that,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. “doesn’t sound desperate enough yet.”

namgyu nods his head in agreement, his fingers ghosting down your throat, silver rings cool against your heated skin. “c’mon,” he coaxes. “if you really want more, you know how to ask for it.”

you swallow hard, your lips parting as you whisper, “please… i need—”

namgyu tuts, cutting you off with a slow shake of his head. “not good enough.” his fingers tighten just slightly against your neck tilting your face up toward him again. “say it properly, sweetheart. tell us exactly what you need.”

thanos lets out a low hum of approval, his hands sliding just a fraction lower. “be a good girl,” he murmurs. “use your words.”

you exhale a shaky breath, your fingers curling into namgyu’s shirt as you finally let go of the last shred of hesitation.

“please,” you whisper, voice raw, needy. “i want you.”

namgyu’s smirk deepens, his grip tightening, his lips barely ghosting over yours. “that’s more like it.”

and then, he kisses you again, harder this time, hungrier, like he’s been waiting for this just as much as you have.

behind you, thanos says, “see?” he murmurs against your ear, voice low and teasing. “that wasn’t so hard, was it?” His fingers slide down, his touch slow, like he’s testing how much you can take.

namgyu’s teeth graze your bottom lip before he pulls back slightly, his breath warm against your mouth. “so eager,” he mutters, amusement laced in his tone.

thanos smiles. “bet you’d let us do anything we wanted, wouldn’t you?” his hands dancing across your inner thigh, inches away from where you need him most. “just as long as we keep giving you what you want.”

your breath catches, your body betraying you before you can even think of a response.

namgyu studies you for a moment, then, without warning, grabs your wrist, his grip firm but unyielding.

“get up,” he orders, voice low and commanding.

thanos doesn’t hesitate either. his hands slide back to your waist, steady and possessive as he helps you off his lap, lingering just long enough to make sure you feel the loss of his touch. the moment you’re standing, namgyu tugs you forward, moving through the small group of people who pay you no mind.

you barely have time to process where they’re leading you before namgyu stops in front of an unmarked door, tucked away in a dark corner of the club. he doesn’t knock. he doesn’t hesitate. he simply pushes it open and drags you inside.

the room is dimly lit, quiet compared to the rest of the club, the muffled bass still thrumming through the walls. an office, by the looks of it, sleek leather couches, a heavy wooden desk, liquor bottles lining the shelves.

you hear the door behind you click and you turn around, seeing thanos holding the doorknob. before you even get a chance to speak, namgyu’s hands are on your waist, spinning you around to face him as he presses you against the desk. his lips curl into a smirk. “you knew this was coming, didn’t you?” his voice is a lazy drawl, almost daring you to deny it.

the room feels like it’s closing in on you. the music from the club muffles in the distance, the sharp, neon lights outside barely cutting through the heavy shadows that fill the office. namgyu stands a few steps away, eyes scanning you with amusement, while thanos is right behind you, a solid presence at your back that you can’t ignore. the closeness between the three of you feels too much, too intense. your breath hitches in your chest, and your body trembles slightly.

“look at you,” namgyu’s voice is smooth, his eyes flickering over you. “you can’t control that fucking shaking.”

you try to steady yourself, but it’s no use. his gaze feels like a weight pressing down on you, and with thanos so close behind, you’re caught in between them.

thanos steps closer. “are you scared?” he asks, his voice thick with something you can’t quite place. “or are you just excited because we’ve got you all to ourselves now?”

“im not scared of you two,” you swallow hard, trying to control your racing pulse.

a throaty laugh erupts from the both of them, mocking you.

“do you like the attention we’re giving you sweetheart?” namgyu whispers, pushing his thigh between your legs.

you try to find your voice, but it comes out barely a whisper. “i— i don’t know.”

namgyu leans in just slightly, his voice soft but laden with an edge that sends a shiver down your spine. "you look a little trapped, sweetheart," he murmurs, the corner of his lips lifting in that teasing smirk. "is that how you like it?"

you swallow, trying to keep your composure, but your heart is racing, your body betraying you with every pulse of heat that floods your skin. you try to move, but namgyu’s leg between your thighs keeps you in place, his gaze never leaving yours.

you let out a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself as his hands settle on your hips. he gives an experimental roll of his thigh, and the friction against your clothed core draws a sharp gasp from your lips. the sensation is maddening, just enough to start the fire that’s been smoldering inside you, but not nearly enough to satisfy.

you slowly move your hips, starting a delicious rhythm. the friction makes you moan, feels so good you don’t even realize you’re making a sound. you rock yourself back and forth, back and forth. the movement jostling your tits.

namgyu’s eyes flicker down, his eyebrows raising. a low groan emanates from his throat. the sound taking you to another level.

thanos reaches up, pulling the front of your dress down. his eyes flare in response, breaking his tense posture to reach up with both hands on your bra.

“holy fuck,” thanos whispers, feeling the lace of your bra make indents on his fingers with how hard he’s squeezing.

“stop teasing..” you mutter through a whine, hips jerking.

“me? teasing you?” thanos questions, quirking an eyebrow. “after you were in a room full of people grinding on me?

namgyu puts one hand behind your back and unclips your bra, other hand not leaving your hip as you look for the desperate release you crave.

your bra falls to the floor in front of you, and your eyes follow slowly.

namgyu’s smirk never wavers as his fingers move until they’re cradling your face. his palms are warm, his grip firm. with a slight tilt of his head, he tightens his hold, his fingertips digging in just enough to part your lips slightly. his thumbs press against your jawline, keeping you still, keeping you exactly where he wants you. his dark eyes flicker over your face, drinking in every reaction, your widened eyes, the way your breath catches, the way your body tenses under his touch.

both of their eyes look down at your chest, and you’re quick to cover yourself. thanos clips his tongue and grabs your hands, pushing them down quickly. “don’t hide yourself, you’re fucking beautiful.”

thanos pinches a nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. the combined stimulation drives you to move your hips faster, gripping your fingers into the sturdy angles of his shoulders.

you crinkle your hands into namgyu’s shirt, and your hands on him has his cock aching, no doubt leaking precum all over the front of his underwear. he can’t believe what you’re able to do to him without even trying.

that’s it” he coos, leaning back just pinning you with a stare that has you melting already. “fuck, look at you, a goddamn slut. you look so dirty like this...”

you bite your lip, suppressing a moan as the pleasure builds, the fabric of your clothes rubbing deliciously against your throbbing core. the wetness between your legs is undeniable now, soaking through your panties, your racing suit and onto his thigh. you know he can feel it too, and the realization only makes you grind down harder, your desperation growing with every passing second.

“please, i need more,” you whimper, the words slipping out in a moment of vulnerability. your voice is heavy with desperation, your body trembling with the effort to find release.

“namgyu..” thanos whispers, toying with your tits. “i’m tired of fucking waiting.”

without a second beat, namgyu pulls his thigh away from in between your legs. your hips stutter and you feel yourself falling, but he’s quick to catch you. you whine loudly, feeling the warm feeling in your stomach slowly fade away.

“come on, sweetheart,” namgyu tuts, mocking you. “you can’t even fucking stand?”

before you can fully register it, hands settle on your shoulders, firm, steady, unmistakably thanos. his touch is hurried, an undeniable strength beneath it. without a word, he turns you around, guiding you with ease until your chest is pressed against the desk’s edge. the wood is cold against your fingertips as you brace yourself, heart pounding in your chest.

thanos stands close, his frame imposing as he looks down at you, his expression unreadable. his fingers trail down your arms before settling at your waist, the pressure light but commanding.

namgyu leans casually against the desk beside you, watching with an amused tilt of his head. his eyes flicker between you and thanos, a smirk playing at his lips. "gotta see this pretty pussy," he mumbles, tapping his fingers against the desk’s surface.

thanos hums in agreement, his fingers flexing slightly at your sides, “bet she’s fucking dripping.”

namgyu pushes your dress up past your ass, both men soaking in the view in front of them. you push your hips back involuntarily.

namgyu leans in just slightly, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “i can feel you shaking,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, a spark of something unreadable flickering in his gaze. “nervous?”

you don’t answer, and that only seems to amuse him more.

thanos clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “she’s quiet again.” his thumbs press just slightly into your waist, the warmth of his touch sending another shiver through you. “that’s cute.”

namgyu watches the way your breath hitches at that, and his smirk widens. “you like when he talks to you like that, don’t you?” his tone is teasing, knowing, like he already has the answer. he trails a finger lightly along your wrist before brushing it beneath your chin, tilting your face up just slightly. “come on, sweetheart,” he coaxes, dark eyes glinting. “use your words.”

your lips part, but the only thing that escapes is a shaky moan.

thanos chuckles softly, his voice low, almost taunting. “looks like we’ll have to help her out.”

in a swift motion, thanos pulls your underwear down, leaving it at your ankles. you hear a dark chuckle behind you, undeniably namgyu.

your stomach flips, and you try to look away, only for namgyu’s grip on your chin to keep you in place. “oh no,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “you don’t get to look away now. you wanted this, didn’t you?”

“god, she’s fucking drenched.” thanos groans, and namgyu lets go of your chin. he goes back behind you, out of view.

you feel a long finger dance around your pussy, collecting the slick that threatens to drip to the floor.

“such a pretty pussy,” thanos whispers, more to himself than anyone else. "you hear that, namgyu? you hear how wet she is?"

"fuck, yeah," namgyu replies, a hand rubbing over the bulge of his pants. he had to admit, he was jealous of thanos, him being able to please you first.

"hurry up, thanos. i want to touch her next." thanos chuckles, turning his attention back to you. "doesn't that turn you on, hm? don't you like hearing how badly namgyu wants to touch you like this?" thanos says, pressing a thumb against your clit and creating sensual circles around the area that makes you more sensitive. you moan as a response, your body trembling from his actions. "yes.. shit,, i want namgyu- to touch me too.." you reply.

looking at namgyu who nearly came from the needy pitch of your voice.

"you heard her, ‘gyu," thanos says, glancing at namgyu with a grin and you found yourself in between the two men. while thanos slowly pushed a finger into your aching pussy and rubbing circles against your clit, namgyu had pushed you up with his hands to touch your breasts. thanos holds you, your back against his chest, letting namgyu pinch your nipples with his fingers, getting a little whine out of your mouth.

"you fucking disgust me," namgyu insults, leaving love marks on your neck and he kisses your shoulders. the beautiful sounds you’re making just leaves namgyu wanting to mark you all over with his mouth. he pinches your nipples again, “you’re so greedy, one person touching you isn’t enough?”

thanos smirks, slipping another finger into your pussy. your eyes widen in astonishment, feeling yourself stretch around his fingers. your moans become louder at that point, due to the combination of namgyu leaving marks all over you while fondling your nipples as thanos plays with your pussy.

"yeah, that's a good girl. moan just for me," thanos adds, smirking as his knuckles began smacking the entrance of your pussy.

namgyu glares at thanos, before slipping one hand away from your breast to grab your head. namgyu turns your face towards him and presses his lips against yours while maintaining eye contact with thanos. the purple haired man furrows his brows, watching as you and namgyu’s tongues swirled sloppily around each others. the two now seem to have an ongoing battle of who can please you the best.

“ 'm gonna c-cum," you utter through your moans, mouth parting slightly from namgyu’s, a strong of saliva connecting from your tongue to his. thanos smiles, curling his fingers to rub faster against your g-spot. "c'mon princess, cum for me," he says, lowering his face to your pussy and replaces his thumb with his tongue on your clit.

"oh f-fuck, thanos-" you mewl his name, eyes nearly rolling back as your legs tremble from the fast licks his tongue was giving against your clit. namgyu couldn't do much but continue to play with your breast and watch thanos fuck your pussy until you came. namgyu grunts as your hands push to free his cock out and wrap around his girth.

your mind is too overstimulated with the situation and you couldn't bother caring about anything else. "shitshitshit, i'm cumming-" you cry out, gushing over thanos’ mouth and fingers.

thanos licks and cleans all of your juices that squirted onto your thighs and by his mouth, savoring the taste. he stares deep into namgyu’s eyes when licking off your arousal on his fingers, smiling cockily since namgyu wasn't able to get a taste. "i might actually get addicted to this pussy," he comments before he unzips his pants to releases his hard throbbing cock.

your eyes widen at the sight of both of their dicks as you come down from your high. "oh, you scared, princess?" namgyu chuckles, but you instantly shake your head.

namgyu pushes you back to your original position against the desk, admiring how your pussy clenches around nothing. “please fuck me, namgyu..”

"you hear that, thanos? hear and see how she's begging for my cock?" namgyu asks, glancing at thanos to see his reaction. he just needed to rub it in the others face.

thanos steps in front of the desk you lay face down on, pulling you up slightly by your hair. a pained whine falls from your lips and you reach up to grab thanos’ hand, but he’s quick to put his cock in your grasp.

thanos glares at namgyu, not replying as his attention was mostly on the way your hand gripped around his cock. "you’re clenching around nothing, angel. that desperate?" namgyu adds, teasing your wet entrance with the tip of his cock before pushing his tip past your folds.

"o-oh my god-" you moan, eyes widening from the feeling of namgyu’s cock rubbing against your walls, nearly making you cum again. namgyu grunts when your tight pussy instantly clenches around him, and he quietly chuckles.

"fuck..," he moans, letting you adjust to the tip before pushing inside another inch.

"touch me too, angel. don't forget about me," thanos whimpers, his words purring into the air as he bucks his hips up to feel your soft hand rub against his desperate cock. you began to pump your hand along thanos’ cock just like he wanted, causing him to moan above you. you look up at him in front of the desk with pleading eyes, seeing his hooded ones catch yours. “s-shit.. i might cum just because of your hands," he chuckles.

namgyu’s hands grip tightly on your hips as he completely bottoms out inside of you, his cock was already fucked deep into you, spreading and pleasuring your walls towards your next orgasm. "n-ngh.. squeezing me so damn hard. you want my cum that badly, baby?" namgyu groans, faintly throwing his head back.

"y-yes, pleaseee," you whine, your cunt sucking in namgyu’s cock at his words. the man groans, starting a rough pace and drilling deeper into your pussy.

thanos intently watches namgyu pounds into your needy hole relentlessly, turning you into a crying and moaning mess. his dick twitches at the sight of you two connecting, making him wonder what it'd be like to be in namgyu’s position.

"fuckkk, holy fuck-" thanos chants, his eyes nearly rolling back because of how satisfied his dick was feeling. "we should make her ours, thanos. make her our whore, yeah?" namgyu glances at thanos, who only moans as a response when you swirl your thumb around his swollen tip. "seems like she wants to, thanos. the way she's clenching her dirty little cunt tightly around me tells me she wants to be ours. that right, slut?" namgyu utters, now staring into your tear filled eyes as he continues thrusting into you.

you nod your head several times, unable to even speak.

“come on, sweetheart. put it in your mouth, okay?” thanos groans, rubbing his precum on your cheek.

you slowly take thanos in your mouth, swirling your tongue around his swollen tip. you bob your head slowly back and forth, sucking and slurping thanos’ cock while using another hand to pump the rest of his length that was unable to fit into your mouth.

even with something inside your mouth, you couldn’t control the loud moans that you breathe out through your nose.

"hear her, thanos? she's moaning like a damn slut," namgyu grins, slapping your ass.

"yeah, i like it," thanos replies, pushing his length into your mouth again, feeling your moans vibrate against his dick. "g-gonna fill her mouth with my cum..”

as namgyu was reaching his climax, he penetrates his cock deeper into your cunt, making sure all of his cum would reach into your womb. you cry out, rushes of ecstasy flowing through your veins before namgyu shoots his warm seed into you. at the same moment, thanos prods his entire length into your mouth, whether it fit or not, and releases his load into the back of your throat. your mind is completely scrambled, cramped with lust struck thoughts of the two men.

“holy shit,” thanos groans, holding your head in place on his dick while namgyu keeps fucking into you, allowing you to find your own orgasm.

you cum with a loud whine, hips shaking uncontrollably as namgyu roughly pushes all of his cum into your tight hole. the office around you was going black, your nose being pushed into thanos’ pubic bone as you try to find the air to breathe.

thanos pulls out of your mouth with a *pop* and smiles down at you widely. “you’re amazing.”

“she’s a fucking whore is what she is.” namgyu hisses, slapping your ass one more time before pulling out completely.

you keep your filled cunt exposed to him, moaning softly when namgyu’s cum begins to spill out.

- - - - ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

uhhh taglist: @kouzih @cybrasigilism

[lewisvinga]

fashion help | charles leclerc x fem! reader x alexandra saint mleux !

summary; how charles, y/n, and alexandra came to be all because of y/n wanting to help a clueless charles in a mall

warnings; ?? none i think

word count; 635

all works taglist; @goldenmclaren @namgification @c-losur3 @minkyungseokie @lavisenri @ollieshifts

note; requested !

masterlist !

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“Alex! These are cute too, no?” Y/n questioned as she ran over to a pink dress and a matching red one beside it. The couple were searching for a matching outfit for an art exhibit event which led them to the large department store in Monaco to find outfits.

“These are quite cute, amor.” Alexandra quietly says. One hand was interlocked with her girlfriends and the other ran down the fabric of the dress. “The fabric isn’t the greatest but-“

She turned to look at Y/n but she was seemingly distracted, staring at the men’s side of the department store.

“Why is he grabbing those blue pants? They’re hideous.”

Alexandra followed where Y/n was staring and saw a confused brunette looking through the racks of clothing. He held up a pair of patterned blue pants which the Art student had to admit was hideous.

“Maybe he’s shopping for a friend?”

“Then I have to help him! If someone gifted me those pants I’d be offended.”

“Y/n, no-“ Before She could finish her sentence, Y/n was already walking towards him.

Alexandra loved her girlfriend, she truly did. She just hated sometimes how extroverted she was and was willing to go up to a stranger to tell him about his poor fashion choices. She hesitantly shuffled behind. She was already preparing to apologize to her girlfriend when she suddenly heard the mystery man thank her.

“Honestly, I don’t even know what I’m doing here. My friends always say I’m bad at this.” He says with a chuckle, causing both Alexandra’s and Y/n’s hearts to skip a beat. “But thank you. I didn’t quite catch your name?”

“I’m Y/n and this is my girlfriend, Alexandra.”

“Charles, it is a pleasure to meet you both.” He smiled as he shook their hands. Any other man would’ve probably been shocked at Alexandra and Y/n’s relationship, which was common because men always hit on them, but Charles was different.

Both girls were bisexual, so they weren’t new to romantic feelings towards the opposite sex. But they had been dating for a few months and only had feelings for each other. Until the confused-looking Monegasque caught both of their attention. Even Charles felt intrigued, noticing how Alexandra stared at him or how Y/n’s touch lingered for a second too long when shaking his hand.

There was a tension that fell over the three of them and neither could quite decipher what it was. Y/n cleared her throat after a few seconds of silence had passed.

“Good thing Alex and I have good fashion taste.” She said with a smile. With one hand she holds onto Alexandra’s hand and with the other she grabs Charles. “Now, looking at you, I think these would fit well.”

Her girlfriend gave the Monegasque a look before they both laughed at Y/n’s enthusiasm about what pants style and what color looked best on him.

Hours had passed by the time the girls finished picking out a whole new wardrobe for Charles, although it felt like it was just a few minutes.

“I’ve got to thank you both. I really do appreciate the help.” Charles said with a smile, the three of them walking out of the store with bags in hand.

“Oh, it’s no problem. I’m a fashion major so this is kind of my thing.” Y/n said with a smile.

“She just really likes to help people.” Alexandra nudged her girlfriend’s side as she chuckled.

“Are you two busy?” Charles suddenly asked, “I’d like to treat you both to lunch as a thank you.” He wore a hopeful smile as the two girls shared a glance.

Y/n being the most straightforward one, linked one arm with Alexandra and the other with Charles. “Well, lead the way!” She exclaimed with a laugh and the rest was history.

[exorcxqsm]

You always belonged with me.

word Count: 4,6k

tags - WARNINGS: mdni, reader isn’t the lnds!mc, explicit sexual content, ooc Sylus (how his myth could be in my head), toxic relationship,  b/egging, f!receiving oral, p in v, unprotected sex, non-sexual choking, spanking, creampies, use of pet names (kitten, sweetie, angel), dirty talking, sylus refers to reader's pussy as "she"

Extra Warning: This story contains altered religious themes and biblical references that may lead me to hell. If you are religious or uncomfortable with the prospect of such writing, please, for your own sake, do not proceed with this story. Consider yourself warned.

Centuries ago, you were banned from stepping foot in the place you once called home. You would do anything to return, and tonight was your chance to try your last resort: the man who had damned you to this position in the first place.

It wasn’t the first time you felt the unsettling sensation of being followed while navigating the N109 Zone. This place was notorious for its shadows—every corner seemed to harbor someone lurking, ready to pry into the lives of others.

You had grown accustomed to this unease; after all, this had been your home for years, both before and after the catastrophe that left the area hollow and desolate. In the aftermath, people became harsher, their kindness stripped away by the events that reshaped the lives of everyone in the zone.

Your feet carried you into one of the bars at the far end of town. You couldn’t help but stifle a chuckle at the absurdity of a security guard standing at the door. Everyone knew this wasn’t a typical nightclub—not that anything here could be considered “normal.” This establishment had a reputation as a bloodbath. The guards weren’t there to ensure anyone's safety of course, except for one man: The leader of Onychinus.

Onychinus was a mysterious faction entrenched in the N109 Zone. Unlike other shady groups, they were omnipresent, weaving a vast web of corruption that controlled every illegal activity within the area.

Sylus was not just the head of this dangerous organization; he was regarded as the ruler of the entire underworld. Whispers of his cruelty and insatiable thirst for power circulated like a broken record, echoing through the streets.

People were terrified of him, yet he intrigued many. Tales circulated about his almost supernatural presence—more than just a human leader, he was said to command the night with his sinfully crafted horns and shadowy wings that cast an ominous veil over the town, keeping it cloaked in darkness twenty-four hours a day.

Imagination was a double-edged sword; it could inspire or deceive. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes every time you overheard whispers about Sylus—tales that veered more towards horror folklore than reality.

The guard fixed his gaze on you, waiting for your entry pass to the club—or, more accurately, the colosseum that lay hidden beneath it. You brushed aside the blonde locks of your wig, letting the brooch of the zone glimmer against your dress, perched just above your chest.

His scrutinizing look was intense, and you could almost sense the gears turning in his mind. “How come I haven’t seen you here before?”

You maintained an expressionless facade, keeping your tone steady under his interrogation. You hoped that the extensive alterations to your appearance—from the wig and colored contacts to your evol that allowed you to adopt features from those you encountered—would obscure any resemblance to the posters plastered throughout the N109 Zone. The bounty on your head had sent ripples of tension through the underworld, but you felt surprisingly calm.

“I usually don’t have to watch business unfold, but tonight is special. You know what I mean.”

His eyes widened in surprise at the implication of your words, and without another word, he stepped aside to grant you entry. As you passed him, a sigh of relief escaped your lips. You silently thanked whatever entity governed fate that your deception had gone unnoticed. It was all too easy to make someone believe in your power when you wore the brooch of Onychinus and spoke the right lingo about their underground dealings.

Technically, you didn’t own the brooch; it was stolen. Yet, perched on your chest, it pretty much seemed yours now. You needed access to the inner workings of the N109 Zone, and now you had it—thanks to a clever ruse involving a brief fainting spell in Luke’s arms, where you knew he kept his brooch tucked beneath the leather of his uniform.

As you navigated through the thrumming crowd, the same unsettling sensation crept over you—the feeling of being watched. The intensity of the gaze made you squirm, though you weren’t afraid. Still, you weren’t naive enough to believe that things couldn’t escalate quickly in this dangerous territory, especially while carrying a stolen item belonging to one of the leader’s henchmen.

Scanning your surroundings, you located the secret passage that led downstairs, directly to the imposing double doors of the hidden colosseum. This was a place where fights occurred every night—not just any fights, but brutal spectacles centered around bets on altered and modified wanderers.

Once, this arena served as a testing ground for a wanderer’s limits, but it had devolved into chaos when the underworld began modifying protocores. They injected these enhancements into creatures, unleashing them to tear each other apart in front of a bloodthirsty audience.

The spectators were all too aware that most wanderers were not contained within the arena. For many, death was an inevitable risk they accepted when they chose to witness these horrific displays. People entered with a significant chance of never leaving.

Those who did survive not only walked away richer, based on the wanderers they had bet on, but so did the modifiers. Yet, the one truly profiting from these nights was Sylus. He monopolized the protocores, wielding an unparalleled influence over the creatures, ensuring they possessed the strength necessary to dominate any other fighters.

He was never present during the fights, always lurking in the shadows. You needed to draw him out, for he possessed something you desperately wanted—something you needed.

So, here you sat at the front, betting everything you had on a wanderer from a mysterious modifier who remained anonymous. The bet managers had eyed you curiously when you placed such a substantial amount of gold on a creature that wasn’t one of Sylus’s creations, especially from someone unknown.

You forced yourself to relax your shoulders and crossed your legs as the announcement echoed through the arena, signaling that the fight was about to commence. The massive bars on the left side creaked open first, revealing a wanderer from Onychinus. It emerged like a beast from the depths of hell, its massive form glowing a menacing red beneath its bark-like exterior.

Then, the bars on your side opened, and the arena fell into a tense silence, punctuated only by a few gasps. From the darkness stepped a lone human. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the imminent clash as you waited for the wanderer to attack your chosen fighter.

Snickers rippled through the crowd when the human not only failed to evade the incoming assault but instead stumbled back, his head slamming against the ground with a dull thud.

The impact caused the injected formula to rupture, and in that moment, the modified essence surged through him, transforming his body into a near-giant, nearly matching the size of the opposing wanderer. Veins on his bare skin glowed a fierce red, and his pupils elongated into slits reminiscent of a cat's, radiating an intensity that resembled molten lava.

Showtime.

It didn’t take long for Onychinus’s creation to be shredded to pieces, your chosen fighter standing triumphantly atop the remnants of what had once been a formidable wanderer.

A tense silence enveloped the crowd, and no one dared to breathe as you rose from your seat and made your way toward the exit. Just before stepping out, you turned to lock eyes with the victor in the arena, whispering softly yet confidently, knowing he could hear you clearly.

"Such a good job.”

The night air was brisk against your bare back, your dress clinging to your figure and leaving little to the imagination as you walked down the narrow alleys of the town. You could almost feel the moment the atmosphere shifted, a new energy surrounding you.

A smirk crept onto your lips as you heard the steady, heavy footsteps approaching from behind.

You turned your head slightly, speaking over your shoulder to give him only a glimpse of your profile and your back.

“At last, we meet again.”

A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest, his broad shoulders shaking with amusement as his gaze roamed over your form. You could alter your appearance as much as you wished, but he would never forget the sound of your voice. Yet, he seemed to struggle with the reality of facing you after all this time.

“Let me see you, sweetie,” he said, his voice deeper than you remembered, yet still carrying that velvety, sultry tone.

You turned to face him fully, crossing your arms over your chest. With a slight tilt of your head, you took in his figure. He had changed significantly over the centuries. He stood taller, with broader shoulders, and his muscles strained against the dress shirt he wore. His white hair, once reaching his waist, was now cut close to his scalp, with only the front strands long enough to fall messily over his forehead.

Sylus clicked his tongue in mild annoyance. “The real you.”

“I’ve changed,” you replied, your tone clipped and resolute.

He took measured steps toward you, closing the distance until you found yourself craning your neck to meet his gaze. His eyes lingered on your face, absorbing every detail. “I haven’t seen you in forever…” he whispered, his voice calm yet filled with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

Before you could react, his hand shot out, grasping your wig and yanking it away, allowing your natural hair to cascade down your back. “Don’t mistake our time apart as a reason for me to forget every single detail about you, kitten.”

You tried to steady your breathing, striving to appear unaffected by his words. Not once did you break eye contact with him as you allowed the energy of your evol to envelop you, restoring your true features and washing away the alterations that felt like long-forgotten memories.

Sylus’s eyes darkened slightly as he took you in, his hand rising to brush his knuckles against your jaw with a featherlight touch. “I believe you have something that belongs to me.” His gaze shifted to the brooch resting on your dress.

“So do you,” you replied, your words drawing his attention away from the stolen item on your chest. His brows furrowed into a small frown as he struggled to comprehend your statement.

Something clicked in his mind then, and he seized your hand, forcefully lifting it to inspect your wrist. There it was—the one symbol he himself wore, deeply carved into your skin. It glowed an angry carmine, signaling your fall from grace.

A huff escaped his lips as he locked eyes with you again. “Is this the reason you pulled that little stunt back there? You thought I wouldn’t find out about you being the mysterious modifier you placed a bet on?”

“This—” you seethed, leaning closer to him, your frustration palpable, “is your fault. I need to get back, Sylus. This isn’t where I’m supposed to be.”

“Oh?” His smirk turned diabolical as he pressed his chest against yours, his face inches from yours. “And where exactly are you supposed to be, sweetie? By his side?”

Your patience wore thin. “Yes.”

A deep chuckle erupted from his throat, devoid of any humor. “His little angel. Tell me, did you think of him, too, when you were clenching around my cock, as if you couldn’t live without me?”

Your gasp shattered the silence of the night, followed by the sharp crack of your slap against his cheek. “That was a mistake. You were a mistake, Sylus.”

His eyes shifted, the warm carmine hue darkening to an abyssal black, all warmth evaporating from his gaze. “I was?”

You didn’t respond to him immediately, taking a step back to regain some semblance of control over the situation. You struggled to keep your voice steady. “I need to get back, and you’re going to help me, Sylus. What we—what I did was a mistake, and I can’t let it keep me away from home.”

Sylus turned his head away, closing his eyes, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as amusement wrinkled the skin at the edges of his gaze. “Was it really your home, sweetie?”

“It was. Just as it was yours, once upon a—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” In an instant, he was back in front of you, his hand tightening around your throat. The burning symbol on his wrist glowed vividly, exposed by the way his cuff had ridden up during the movement. “That place was never my home. He never wanted me there; He only wanted to control me.”

“You’re wrong.” Your voice came out strained under the pressure of his grip, yet you didn’t flinch or attempt to remove his hand. “He loves you.”

“Is that why he banished me, hmm? Because he loves me?” His tone turned harsh, slicing through the air like a blade. “Does he love you as well? Is his love for you what sent you falling right after me?”

Your breathing grew erratic, each word he spoke igniting a fire on your own wrist. The more you allowed his words to penetrate your defenses, the more intense the burning sensation became. “We defied him, Sylus. You betrayed him most of all; you are the only reason you’ve fallen.”

His grip on your throat tightened to the point where you had to part your lips to draw in a breath. “Is this what you really believe, sweetie? The fallen angel, scorched by his own sins, sealing his fate away from his brother’s home.”

His eyes narrowed into slits, and you instinctively reached up to wrap your fingers around his wrist, struggling against the pressure crushing your windpipe. “I didn’t think you’d be as naive as them.”

“Sylus…” It was difficult to speak now; tears threatened to spill from your eyes. As if he had just realized the extent of the pressure he was applying, he relaxed his grip slightly, allowing you a precious gulp of air. “He can still forgive you. You just never sought him out.”

“You shouldn’t either, angel.” His thumb crept slowly toward your bottom lip, caressing it with a tenderness that felt foreign to his nature. “Do you forget all the times you sought me out? You've always known where your true home lies—by my side. You were always meant to fall with me. Fall for me.”

“No!” You struggled to squirm away from his grasp, desperate to create some space between you. Nothing was ever easy with him. All he needed to do was utter the right words, the incantation that could undamn you, granting you entry back into Heaven without the mark of eternal sin burning your skin.

He seemed almost pleased to see you after all those centuries apart, still trapped down here, far from the place you both once called home. You had foolishly fallen into his sinful embrace, and in doing so, had condemned yourself. He had welcomed you into his own home, promising you a place beside him on his throne, where you would truly belong—with him.

“Speak the words, damn it!” Your voice was nearly a plea as you struggled against him, but he was growing stronger by the second, and he had no intention of letting you go again.

“You don’t belong with him, sweetie. Don’t you see?” His breathing was calm, almost effortless, as he kept you trapped in his grip. “I would never abandon you like he did.”

“I sinned,” you breathed out, feeling yourself pressed completely against his body as he maneuvered you, forcing your back against the cold surface of the alley wall.

His taut form pressed against yours in all the right ways, his head dipping down to find your pulse point, nibbling at the sensitive skin there. Your breath hitched, and you closed your eyes, overwhelmed by a mix of shame and desire.

“Is this a sin, angel?” His teeth grazed your neck, and you instinctively placed your hands on his chest, attempting to push him away. “Your body was made to provide you with pleasure, so tell me… Why is this a sin?”

A whimper escaped your lips as he emphasized his question by sucking on your skin, his hips pressing forward to brush against your abdomen with his slowly hardening erection. The symbol on your wrist felt like it was igniting, the heat intensifying with every movement he made. “Sylus—”

“Shh… You’ve talked enough.” In an instant, his lips were on yours, a surprised gasp escaping you. He seized the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, his hands finding their way to the back of your head, pulling you deeper into the kiss.

As you surrendered to the moment, you sensed a shift in your peripheral vision. When you tried to pull away to catch your breath, your eyes widened in awe at the sight transforming before you, your mouth falling open. 

Sylus’s carmine eyes began to glow, a tearing sound echoing through the alley as massive black wings unfurled from his back, their feathers cascading down to the ground beside his shoes. Your heart swelled with a mix of awe and longing, unable to recall the last time you had seen him like this.

Your pupils dilated, drinking in the striking transformation. His wings, once the purest of whites, had morphed into a dark, charcoal hue, contrasting sharply with his blood-red eyes. Despite the sharp edges of his new form, he remained what everyone described him as; the most beautiful angel of all.

Before you could fully process the shift in the air, his lips were on you again, his hands roaming down your body with an urgency that took your breath away. You had half a mind to pull away, but the heat radiating from your skin was intoxicating. One of his palms settled against the back of your thigh, lifting it until it wrapped around his waist, granting him access to grind against your clothed cunt.

A deep groan rumbled from his throat, and you swallowed it into the kiss, your own moan echoing softly into the night. His head dipped lower, his mouth closing around your breast, the fabric of your dress quickly becoming damp with his saliva. He seemed ravenous, impatience evident in his every movement as he nipped at the fabric, sending jolts of pleasure through you that made your back arch, pushing your breasts further into his eager mouth.

“Sylus…” you moaned, your voice almost breathless, the night taking a turn you hadn’t anticipated when you first stepped into that colosseum.

“I can feel you soaking through my pants, angel,” he grunted into your chest, his hips driving into you once more. “You came here to ask me to deliver you back to him, yet you’re dripping all over me.”

His tone was possessive and almost feral as he threaded his fingers to the neckline of your dress, pushing it down until it rested beneath your breasts, exposing your skin to his eager lips. He began to lap his tongue over your nipple, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you.

Impatience bubbled within you, your body writhing and squirming against him and the wall as you struggled to make a decision. This was a mistake you had made before, one that had cost you your place in Heaven, yet you couldn't bring yourself to ask him to stop when your entire being buzzed with the pleasure only he could provide.

His white locks brushed against your collarbone, a teasing sensation that made you shiver. You seized the opportunity to tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer even as you tried to push him away, the conflicting desires overwhelming you.

“Don’t deny me.” Sylus’s voice dripped with lust as he locked his glowing eyes onto yours, then fell to his knees, lifting your leg over his shoulder. He positioned himself perfectly in front of your clothed cunt, his presence filling the narrow alley. “Embrace me."

“I—” You were breathless, your legs trembling as you took in the sight of him, the way his eyes glowed like embers in the darkness and how his wings loomed large behind him, dominating the space. It was impossible to resist him, yet a flicker of resolve still burned within you. “I can’t, Sylus. He—”

Before you could finish your sentence, he growled, his tongue darting out to tease your panties, and you buckled, a scream tearing from your throat as pleasure shot through you, leaving you gasping.

He glided his fingers along your damp underwear, the soft fabric clinging to you as he brought them up to show you how much they glistened with your arousal. “How dare you speak his name when she’s crying for me?”

You felt as if you were burning, heat radiating from every inch of your body as he tore the fabric with one powerful tug, leaving you bare before him. “Let me remind you what it felt like, sweetie.”

His mouth was on your cunt before you could catch your breath, his tongue lapping eagerly at your folds, devouring you like a man starved. “Such a sweet pussy, angel.”

You mewled and moaned in a symphony of pleasure, your senses overlapping until all that existed was the way his teeth grazed your clit and how his mouth enveloped you completely. The warmth of his breath against your skin sent shivers down your spine as you ground your hips against his face, seeking the delicious friction of his nose against your sensitive bud while he pushed his tongue deep into your welcoming heat.

“Sylus, please…” You didn’t even know what you were begging for, but he did. With a swift motion, he brought one hand up, slipping a finger inside you alongside his tongue. “Ah—Oh my God!”

Just as quickly as his mouth and finger were there, they vanished, and when you tried to protest, a yelp escaped your throat as a sudden stinging heat greeted your pussy. Your hand flew up to cover your mouth when he slapped you again, the sound echoing in the dimly lit alley, your body doubling over as you nearly lost your balance. It was only his wings that moved toward you, enveloping you in a soft, feathery sanctuary, steadying you against the cool, rough wall behind.

The tone of his voice was a stark contrast to the gentle caress of his wings as he spoke, a low growl rumbling from deep within. “Calling out his name when you’re begging for me?”

Your eyes widened in shock as the realization of what you’d done washed over you, and your hands instinctively tangled in Sylus’s silken white locks, guiding his face toward where you craved him most once again. “I’m sorry, Sylus, ‘m so sorry…”

Another sharp slap echoed in the air, and you felt an almost overwhelming wave of pleasure surge through you, making you believe you could reach your peak from that sensation alone.

Your frustration simmered as you watched him rise from the ground, his full height towering over you, but relief flooded you when you saw him begin to tug at his belt, loosening his pants around his hips, though they remained on.

Without thinking, your hands rushed to the fabric, desperate to rid him of it, but Sylus only smacked your hand away. His mouth found your neck once more, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered, “Do you want me to take you, sweetie?”

“Please—”

“Do you want me to corrupt you like I did back then?” His teeth grazed your delicate skin, igniting a mix of pain and pleasure that made you cry out. “You came to my altar once, and now you can’t seem to get enough, can you?”

You hadn’t realized the tears streaming down your cheeks, a blend of overwhelming emotions and bliss, until Sylus’s tongue lapped beneath your eyes, capturing each drop. With a swift motion, he freed his cock from the confines of his pants, rubbing it against your entrance. “You can trick your foolish heart into believing you hate me. That you want to go back, but deep down, you know I am your home.”

He finished his sentence with one sharp thrust, his cock fully seated inside you. A loud moan escaped your lips, and you could swear someone would come searching the alley, finding you pressed against the wall, Sylus’s cock shattering any remaining sense of sanity you had left.

He set a relentless pace, barely allowing you time to adjust as you felt your walls clench around him, as if he were your lifeline and you were desperate to pull him inside you forever. 

“Shit…” His groans came freely, raw and unrestricted, as he continued to fuck you against the wall. “I’ve missed you so much, angel.” He peppered your face with open-mouthed kisses, and your head tilted back, eyes crossing from the overwhelming pleasure.

“I—missed you too, Sy—” You struggled to form coherent words, your thoughts a jumbled mess of moans and whines, until the sound of approaching footsteps jolted you out of your blissful trance. You froze in Sylus’s arms, but your body reacted instinctively, clenching around him in a way that made his rhythm stutter for a moment.

He looked at you with a frown, but as he heard the footsteps, his smirk returned, and he picked up his pace. You gasped when you realized how close someone was, mere steps away from where Sylus was fucking you against the wall. His thrusts grew harder, his wings flaring out and slapping against the ground with the force of his movements.

“Sylus! Someone—” You tried to stifle your moans, but he was so deep that you could feel him pressing against your cervix, his hands gripping your hips with a force that would surely leave marks. “S-someone’s coming-”

No matter how alarming your voice sounded, there was no mistaking the way your walls squeezed his cock with each syllable. His eyes rolled back as he pressed a passionate kiss to your lips, whispering against them,

“You’re squeezing me dry, sweetie.” He breathed harder, his hand slipping down to play with your clit, drawing a cry from your lips that you couldn’t contain. “Does it excite you? The thought of someone coming along and seeing you like this?”

Your brain turned to mush under his double assault—his cock filling you completely and his finger teasing your pulsating clit. You struggled to hold onto yourself, but every brush against that sweet spot inside you sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, leaving you quivering.

“Do you want someone to catch you bouncing on my cock, angel? A sweet little creature making a mess on the Fallen Angel?” His thrusts became more animalistic, and in the haze of pleasure, you didn’t even notice that no one was nearing your hiding place anymore. Sylus kept pushing your sanity. “If only they knew that my cock was the reason you lost your own wings in the first place."

Your orgasm hit you like a bolt of lightning, your vision going white as you felt your pussy flutter and clench impossibly hard around Sylus’s cock.

“Fuck,” he groaned, losing control as his hips retracted slightly before plunging back in, chasing his own sweet release. “Just like that, sweetie, give it all to me.”

Your thighs trembled around him, your body on the brink of surrender as you felt his last vestiges of control shatter.

Ropes of thick come filled you, coating your walls while his wings enveloped your body, sheltering you from anyone who might intrude and keeping you impossibly close. He continued until you were overflowing with his seed, leaking down your joined bodies, creating a mess on both of you, your moans echoing in the silence.

“You feel like Heaven, sweetie. Too bad you won’t be making it back.”

[magical-reid]

The Unexpected Connection

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader (No use of Y/N)

Word Count: 1.3K

Summary: When Miss Popular offers to help Eddie Munson with chemistry, an unlikely connection forms between them as they bond over shared interests. The relationship deepens when she surprises Eddie and his friends with homemade cookies during a D&D campaign, leaving everyone shocked by her unexpected presence in Eddie's world.

The fluorescent lights buzzed above the cafeteria, casting their harsh glow over the crowded tables. You sat at your usual spot, surrounded by your group of friends. They were all in their usual cheerful chatter, gossiping about the latest trends and upcoming weekend plans. Your life had always been filled with sparkles and smiles, but there was something a little different today—a subtle unease you couldn’t quite place. That unease was Eddie Munson.

Eddie, the resident metalhead and Dungeon Master of Hawkins High's Dungeons & Dragons campaign. He was a mystery—a wild card who didn’t care about fitting in with the popular crowd. You, on the other hand, were the center of attention. Perfect hair, colorful outfits, and always with a group of friends at your side. You'd never crossed paths with him before, at least not in any meaningful way, but you had seen him around. He was hard to miss, with his long hair, denim vest, and that ever-present air of defiance.

But that didn’t stop your curiosity. The rumors about him were relentless—everyone in school had something to say about Eddie. Most of it wasn’t flattering. Still, you couldn’t help but wonder what the real Eddie Munson was like, behind the leather jacket and the weird rumors.

And that was the exact moment you felt a tap on your shoulder.

You turned to see him standing there, looking unusually hesitant for someone who was oftenly seen as confident and untouchable. His usual cocky grin was replaced with an uncertain smile.

"Uh, hey," Eddie muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. "You got a second?"

You blinked in surprise. “Sure. What’s up?”

He shuffled his feet, looking awkward. “I was wondering… if you could help me with something.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Help you? With what?"

“Chemistry,” Eddie said, his voice low as if he was embarrassed to ask. "I mean, I know it’s not the most hardcore subject, but I could use some help. I’m not exactly a whiz with numbers and reactions, y’know?”

You were taken aback. Eddie Munson, the guy who had a reputation for being a rebel and a troublemaker, asking for help in chemistry? It didn’t make sense. But your heart softened at the fact that he was even admitting it. It wasn’t easy for someone like him to ask for help.

“Okay,” you said, a smile tugging at your lips. “I can help. Meet me after school at the library, alright?”

Eddie seemed genuinely surprised. “Wait, you’re actually willing to help me?”

You shrugged casually. “Why not? I don’t bite. And chemistry’s no big deal, really. Besides, I’m guessing it’s better than whatever you’ve been doing in class, right?”

He chuckled, the tension melting from his shoulders. “Alright, deal. See you then.”

You waved as you grabbed your things to leave, but before you could head off, Eddie called out.

“Hey, uh… you’re not like everyone says you are, y’know?”

You turned around to face him, smiling softly. “I guess not. You’re not what I expected either.”

His smile faltered, but you could see the hint of warmth in his eyes as you walked away.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The library was quiet as usual, and you found a secluded corner to set up your chemistry notes. You didn’t know what to expect when Eddie showed up, but when he did, you were surprised at how… out of place he looked. His black leather jacket clashed with the neatly organized bookshelves around you, and he scratched the back of his head, clearly trying to shake off the awkwardness of the situation.

“Okay, let’s get this over with,” Eddie said, settling across from you.

You smiled at him. “It’s not a big deal. Just think of it as another kind of campaign—only with chemicals instead of dice.”

Eddie snorted. “You think I can roll a natural 20 on this subject?”

“Not unless you roll a lot of patience,” you teased, tapping your pen against the notebook.

As you explained the basics of chemical reactions and bonds, you found yourself watching Eddie more than you realized. His intense focus, the way his fingers drummed on the table when he was deep in thought, the furrow in his brow as he jotted down notes—it was strangely endearing. He wasn’t like the other guys in your class. There was something more to him, and you were starting to see it.

“You’re really good at this,” Eddie said after a while, leaning back in his chair, his hands behind his head. “I thought I was gonna fail for sure, but now I think I’m actually getting it.”

You smiled at the compliment. “You’re not as bad at this as you thought. You’ve got potential, Munson.”

He grinned, but there was a slight vulnerability in his smile that you hadn't expected. “Thanks. You’re alright, you know that?”

The conversation turned to lighter topics, and before you knew it, you were laughing together—completely different from the icy encounters you’d imagined with him in the past. The chemistry lesson had turned into something else entirely. Something more... comfortable.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The weekend rolled around, and you knew that you had a D&D campaign with Eddie and the guys at the usual hangout. You hadn’t been invited to play, of course. That was Eddie’s thing. But you knew this would be your chance to do something a little unexpected.

You had made cookies—soft, chewy chocolate chip cookies—and you had a plan. You'd show up at the campaign and surprise Eddie. You weren’t entirely sure how it would go, but you thought maybe it would break the ice.

You arrived at the trailer park just as the sun began to set, your basket of cookies tucked under your arm. You knocked on the door of Eddie’s trailer, and when he answered, his eyes widened.

“You—uh, what are you doing here?” Eddie stammered, clearly surprised to see you standing in front of him with a batch of homemade cookies.

“I brought cookies,” you said with a smile. “I thought you and the guys could use a snack while you roll some dice.”

His jaw dropped a little. “Wait, seriously? You actually came here... with cookies?”

“Yep,” you said cheerfully, stepping inside. “I figured it might be nice. I’ve never actually watched a campaign.”

The guys in the room—Mike, Dustin, Lucas, and Will—looked at you in shock. You could see their eyes widen in disbelief. They were all accustomed to you being there, but never in Eddie’s world. You were the popular, girly girl who didn’t belong at a metalhead’s D&D table.

“What’s this? We’re getting snacks now?” Dustin asked, blinking.

“Did she just bring cookies?” Mike added, eyes flicking from you to Eddie in confusion.

Eddie, still a little taken aback, blinked before shaking his head. “I, uh, I didn’t expect this. But, hey… you guys are gonna love these.” He took one of the cookies and bit into it. “Damn, these are amazing.”

You smirked. “Glad you like them. I figured the Demon Lord’s army could use a little sugar boost.”

The boys exchanged glances, and even Eddie’s usual cool demeanor melted a little as he let himself enjoy the cookies. For the first time, it felt like you were actually part of something. Part of Eddie’s world. And it was nice. Really nice.

You stayed for the rest of the campaign, sitting beside Eddie, chatting between rolls. It wasn’t the most glamorous, and you didn’t know all the rules, but it felt like you were finally seeing Eddie in his element. And you couldn’t help but smile.

[serapharua]

HYBRID ENHYPEN reaction to you touching their ears/tails . . . !

enhypen 0T7 — GENRE : imagines headcanon fluff hybrid au — PAIRING : gn.reader — WARNING : none — REQUESTED : nope.

HEESEUNG (deer hybrid) :

You and Heeseung are sitting on the couch together, a quiet evening unfolding between the two of you. He’s been relaxing, his usual calm presence filling the room, but there’s something about the soft glow of the lamp and the comfort of his company that makes you want to tease him a little. His deer-like ears are so noticeable, perched on top of his head, the soft fur a striking contrast to his usual calm demeanor.

You can’t help yourself. Reaching out, your fingers brush against the edges of his ears, and instantly, you feel a shiver run through him. His eyes widen slightly, surprised by the contact. He looks at you, the faintest hint of a blush coloring his cheeks.

“You know those are sensitive, right?” His voice is softer than usual, and his breath catches in his throat as you gently run your fingers along the delicate outer edge. Heeseung tries to remain composed, but you can see his body stiffen, and he shifts just a little in his seat, not quite pulling away, but not quite leaning into the touch either.

You smile, amused by the way he’s trying to stay calm despite the subtle signs of discomfort. “I didn’t realize you were so sensitive,” you tease, keeping your fingers there for a moment longer.

He lets out a soft exhale, his head tilting slightly to the side as if he’s trying to gauge whether or not he should stop you. But then his eyes soften, and he lets you continue, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. “I guess I can’t hide everything from you, can I?”

He reaches up, his hand gently brushing yours away, but not in a way that suggests he’s upset. Instead, he guides your hand to rest softly on his ear. “Just… be careful,” he murmurs with a small smile, his gaze meeting yours with a mix of shyness and affection. “It’s not easy for me to keep my composure when you do that.”

You can feel the heat of his blush, but the way his hand lingers over yours tells you he’s not upset—just a little flustered. There’s a sweetness to it, a vulnerability he doesn’t often show. Despite his usual calm, you realize how much he enjoys your touch, even if it catches him off guard.

JAY (hawk hybrid) :

The evening is calm, the two of you sitting on the balcony, watching the stars flicker in the sky. Jay’s usually laid-back demeanor is as steady as ever, but you notice the tail feathers twitch slightly, almost as if they have a life of their own. Curious, you can’t resist the temptation to reach over and gently run your fingers along one of the soft, sleek feathers.

The instant your touch makes contact, Jay’s body freezes for a moment. His eyes widen, and you can feel the subtle shift in the air, as though he’s trying to control the immediate reaction. His feathers bristle for just a second before he quickly relaxes, though his posture remains tense. He turns to face you, the smallest hint of surprise in his expression.

“Careful,” Jay warns, though his voice is laced with a mix of surprise and intrigue. “Those are a little more sensitive than they look.” He shifts, his feathers fluttering slightly, and you can see him trying to keep his usual cool composure.

Noticing his reaction, you smile and tease him gently, “Oh, really? They look so soft.” Your fingers trace along the edge of one feather, feeling the smooth texture beneath your fingertips.

Jay lets out a breath, his eyes narrowing slightly, but there’s no hiding the way his feathers shift in response. His hand gently covers yours, stopping you from moving further along the feathers. “You’re distracting me,” he says, though there’s a playful undertone, his lips curving into a small smirk. “But I guess I don’t mind… as long as you’re being careful.”

You look up at him, the warmth in his gaze telling you he’s more at ease than he lets on. The tension in his body starts to melt away as he allows you to gently touch the feathers again.

There’s a certain vulnerability in the way he lets you touch such a sensitive part of him, a part of him he usually keeps hidden. And as his feathers ruffle slightly, you realize that it’s a trust he’s extending to you, no matter how flustered it makes him feel.

JAKE (wolf hybrid) :

You and Jake are hanging out in the living room, the soft hum of conversation filling the air. He’s lounging back on the couch, his head resting on the armrest, his wolf-like ears perked up slightly. You can’t help but glance at the soft fur that covers the tips of his ears, and before you know it, your hand moves toward him.

You reach out, lightly brushing your fingers against the edge of one of his ears. The moment your touch connects, Jake stiffens, his amber eyes flicking toward your hand, his body instinctively reacting to the sensation. His ears twitch, and a low growl rumbles in his chest, but it’s more playful than threatening.

“Hey, don’t tease me like that,” he says, his voice low but with a teasing edge. His gaze softens, and the intensity in his eyes is replaced with a mix of surprise and something a little more affectionate. He’s trying to act cool, but his flushed cheeks betray him.

You smile, unable to resist the temptation to brush against the fur again. This time, you gently scratch behind his ear, and Jake’s whole body shudders. He lets out a soft whine, looking up at you with a mix of affection and exasperation.

“Seriously,” he mutters, though there’s no real anger in his tone. His tail flicks behind him, swishing lazily, and you can see the way his body relaxes under your touch. “You know how much I hate being all soft and… vulnerable.”

You laugh, noticing how he leans slightly into your touch, despite his words. “You’re just too cute, Jake,” you tease.

His eyes soften, and he reaches up to gently grab your hand, guiding it to the back of his head where his fur is thicker, more comfortable. “Fine, if you’re going to do it, just don’t make fun of me,” he says, a little sheepish but still enjoying the attention.

As you continue to run your fingers through the fur on the back of his neck, Jake sighs contentedly, his body completely at ease now. The playful teasing is gone, replaced by a comfortable warmth, his tail wagging slightly in approval.

SUNGHOON (snow leopard hybrid) :

You’re sitting on the couch together, the soft hum of a movie playing in the background. Sunghoon’s always been cool and composed, but tonight there’s something different in the air. His snowy fur is practically glowing in the soft light, and you can’t help but notice how soft it looks, especially around his ears. Without thinking, you reach out to lightly brush your fingers over his ear, the fur soft and fluffy beneath your touch.

The moment your hand makes contact, Sunghoon freezes, his body going rigid for a brief second. His sharp eyes flick toward you, but there’s no irritation—just a flicker of surprise. His snow leopard ears twitch under your touch, a slight shiver running through his body.

“Careful,” he warns in a quiet voice, though his tone isn’t as stern as you’d expect. He shifts slightly, looking at you with a mix of curiosity and a subtle hint of something softer. It’s almost like he’s trying to hide how much he enjoys the attention.

You smile teasingly, brushing your fingers along his ear again, this time more gently. Sunghoon’s eyes close for a second, and a barely audible purr slips from him—something deep and unexpected. His breath hitches, and you can feel the muscles in his shoulders relax. His tail flicks lazily behind him, betraying the calm composure he’s trying to maintain.

“You don’t have to be shy about it,” you tease softly, gently running your fingers through the fur around his ears and down his neck.

Sunghoon opens his eyes and glances at you, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks. His usual composed demeanor is slipping just a little. “I’m not shy,” he mutters, though there’s a playful edge to his voice. He leans into your touch just a little, his tail swishing slowly behind him as his body melts into the contact. “I just didn’t expect you to do that.”

His purrs grow a little louder, and he finally relaxes into your touch, no longer hiding how much he enjoys it. “You’re gonna spoil me if you keep this up,” he says, his voice soft and almost affectionate.

SUNOO (fox hybrid) :

You and Sunoo are sitting together in the cozy corner of the room, the warm glow of the evening lights casting a soft ambiance. His fox ears twitch occasionally, and you can’t help but be curious about how soft they must feel. Without thinking too much about it, you reach out to gently touch the tip of one of his ears.

The moment your fingers make contact, Sunoo lets out a surprised, almost startled gasp. His bright eyes lock onto yours, and his ears flatten for a moment in reflex. A soft blush creeps onto his cheeks, and his body goes rigid, but his eyes soften, revealing how much he enjoys the contact despite the initial surprise.

“W-What are you doing?” he stammers, but there’s no real resistance in his voice, just a playful edge. You can feel the soft warmth of his fur beneath your fingers, and his tail flicks gently behind him, betraying his discomfort mixed with intrigue.

You continue to gently rub the tip of his ear, and Sunoo’s breath hitches, the tension melting away slowly. His ears perk up again, and his tail gives a little excited swish, clearly enjoying the sensation. He bites his lip, trying to suppress a grin but failing. “That’s… actually really nice,” he admits, voice softer now, the initial shyness slipping away.

“You’re so cute,” you tease, continuing to stroke his ear gently.

Sunoo grins widely, his blush deepening. “Don’t tease me too much,” he says, though there’s no real complaint in his voice. He leans into your touch a little, his tail now wagging more freely, and a light purr escapes his lips. “Just… keep going,” he mumbles, too embarrassed to admit how much he’s enjoying it.

JUNGWON (panther hybrid) :

You’re sitting with Jungwon in a quiet corner of the room, the air thick with the comfort of silence. His panther ears are perked up, and his tail sways lazily behind him. Something about his calm presence has you wanting to reach out and touch the sleek fur around his ears. You tentatively extend your hand, brushing against one of his ears.

Jungwon freezes for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as if to assess the situation. His panther-like instincts kick in, and for a second, he seems on alert. But then, as your fingers gently trace the edge of his ear, you feel him relax, his muscles softening beneath your touch. His ears twitch in pleasure, and he lets out a quiet, content sigh, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“You’re bold, aren’t you?” he says, voice low, but there’s no hint of anger or irritation—just a teasing tone. His tail flicks once, lazily, before curling around his legs. His body is relaxed, but there’s an undeniable energy in the way his eyes glint, as if he’s not quite used to the attention but is enjoying it all the same.

You continue to stroke his ear, feeling the soft fur beneath your fingers. Jungwon’s eyes close, a deep rumble of contentment vibrating in his chest. “You know, I could get used to this,” he murmurs, his voice dropping a little lower, almost a purr.

He leans into your touch, his panther-like nature coming through as he tilts his head slightly to give you better access. His gaze softens as his tail flicks idly, and you can tell he’s enjoying the intimacy of the moment.

“Don’t think this means you’re getting off easy,” Jungwon says, but his grin gives away that he’s not at all upset—just playful. He lingers there, his body soft against yours as if inviting more attention.

NIKI (tiger hybrid) :

You and Niki are sitting together on a quiet afternoon, the light from the window casting soft shadows around the room. His tiger ears flicker occasionally, and his tail curls around him lazily. You find yourself captivated by how soft his fur looks, so without thinking, you gently reach out and touch the tip of one of his ears.

Niki instantly freezes, his amber eyes locking onto yours with a mix of surprise and curiosity. For a moment, his body tenses, but it’s not from discomfort—more like a sudden awareness of the situation. His tail twitches, and you can feel a faint growl rumbling in his chest, though it’s not threatening. It’s almost as if he’s testing how much he’ll allow himself to enjoy it.

“Touching my ears, huh?” Niki says, his voice low, with just a hint of teasing. His tone is playful, but there’s a glimmer of something more—something softer, like he’s unsure whether he should allow this closeness.

But when you continue stroking his ear gently, his body relaxes almost immediately. His eyes soften, and he lets out a content sigh, his tail flicking happily. “That’s… nice,” he admits quietly, clearly enjoying the attention despite his usual tough exterior.

As you run your fingers along the edge of his ear, Niki leans into the touch, his head tilting slightly. His usual playful smirk is replaced with a subtle, almost shy smile. “You know, I’m not some cute kitten,” he says, but the softness in his voice contradicts the words. His tail flicks behind him, and the playful growl from earlier has disappeared, replaced by a more content purr.

You can feel Niki’s muscles relax under your touch as he practically melts into the affection, but there’s a part of him that still tries to maintain his cool. “You better not start getting any ideas,” he teases, though there’s no real bite to his words. He closes his eyes and leans further into your hand, his body language inviting you to continue.

Word count : 2412 | serapharua, 2024.

[rmytears]

○ alexia putellas x teen reader (reader has a name in this)

↳ warnings: no warnings.

A LITTLE HOT-HEADED.

If someone had to describe Maya, they'd probably get stuck on the first word that came to mind: difficult. Difficult to read, like a book in a language you don't understand; difficult to comprehend, like a puzzle with pieces that don't quite fit. Her gaze, often lost in deep thoughts, challenged anyone who tried to get close. And when she spoke, she did it with such sharp sarcasm that it could slice through the tension in the air. It was as if she enjoyed bewildering others, each hidden laugh and every frown part of a game where she always held the lead.

But there was another word that fit her: good. While her personality might have seemed like a maze, on the soccer field she shone with her own light. With the ball at her feet, she transformed. It was as if everything else disappeared and only she and the game existed. Obviously, she needed to improve—she was still very young—but she had potential, enough that trying to ignore it felt like an offense. Maya was good.

As the season progressed, her name began to echo among the first team players. "Have you seen this girl from the B team?" The words spread like ripples. And so, like foam, the rumors reached Alexia's ears, who couldn't ignore the stories about this girl everyone seemed interested in lately.

Intrigued, Alexia decided it was time to see this young promise for herself.

FC Barcelona B vs. RCD Espanyol. The match was going perfectly for the Blaugrana colors. The sun shone intensely on the grass, while the stands filled with a sea of blue and garnet shirts that vibrated with every touch of the ball. The B team players moved the ball with a fluidity that left the fans in a constant state of euphoria. With each pass, each run, it seemed the team was destined for a clear victory.

Maya sat on the bench, observing from her position. With the first half already consumed, her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. She had been training hard, waiting for her chance to shine, and that moment came when the coach called her to get ready.

However, as she settled into the game, a figure from the opposing team began to make herself noticed, making the atmosphere tense. The Espanyol player, a blonde with tight braids who seemed to have made a personal decision to make Maya's life impossible, started getting too close. Every time Maya received the ball, the opponent appeared like lightning, throwing discrete elbows and disguised stomps masked as legitimate plays. Alexia could see how Maya tried to concentrate, ignoring the provocations, but frustration began to show on her face.

"It's just football," she told herself while running across the field, trying to maintain calm amid the chaos. But her opponent's tricks didn't cease; the referee, with a distant and uncommitted look, seemed to have decided it wasn't his day to intervene. The fouls continued without punishment, and tension on the field increased. Maya noticed how the Espanyol player became increasingly aggressive, playing dirty, an elbow here, a push there.

With time running and the score still in Barça's favor, Maya found herself increasingly trapped in a mental game that wore her down. Alexia, from her position, could notice how the young player's patience was vanishing. The furtive glances Maya threw toward the referee became more accusatory, and her gestures of frustration more evident.

Finally, after a blatant push that left Maya staggering, something inside her clicked. In an instant of contained rage, she decided it was time to respond. With fierce determination, she launched herself at the Espanyol player with a tackle that resonated like thunder in the stadium. The contact was strong and direct, and the referee's whistle sounded like a war cry.

Maya's face turned from surprise to frustration at seeing the red card the referee raised toward her. Helplessness invaded her as the rest of the team halted their game, stunned by her expulsion. The crowd fell into a sepulchral silence, and whispers spread like an echo of disappointment.

Maya found herself alone in the dressing room, the echo of her steps resonating against the tiled walls as she walked to her locker. The coach's lecture still rang in her head—words about concentration and maintaining calm during critical moments of the game. She sighed deeply while dropping onto one of the benches.

"Hey." Vicky's voice pulled her from her thoughts. Her teammate was already changed and ready to leave, the sports bag hanging from her shoulder. "Don't take today's match so hard. You did well."

Maya just nodded, her fingers playing distractedly with her shoelaces.

"The girls are going for ice cream to celebrate the victory," Vicky continued, leaning against the doorframe. "Want to come?"

"I don't think I'm in the mood," Maya mumbled, forcing a small smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Suit yourself." Vicky shrugged. "See you tomorrow then."

Silence enveloped the dressing room again after Vicky's departure. Maya closed her eyes for a moment, letting the quietness wrap around her. But the peace didn't last long.

"Well, well. Does Barcelona's little star need a moment alone?"

Maya felt every muscle in her body tense at recognizing that voice. The Espanyol player—the same one who had been provoking her throughout the match—was standing behind her. She could feel her presence approaching, invading her personal space.

"What's wrong? Did coach's lecture leave you speechless?" The mocking voice drew closer until Maya could feel her breath on her neck.

It was as if something inside her exploded. In a quick movement, Maya turned and pushed the other player against the wall, her forearm pressing against her rival's chest.

"Don't mess with me," Maya growled, the words coming through clenched teeth. Her eyes sparkled with contained fury. "And for the record, you smell like crap."

A movement at the dressing room entrance caught her attention. Alexia was there, observing the scene with a mixture of surprise and concern on her face. Maya exhaled frustratedly, stepping back to her original spot while rubbing her temples with her fingers—a gesture that caught Alexia's attention, who wondered if it was a sign of stress or perhaps a headache.

Alexia observed both players for a moment before breaking the tense silence. "Is there a problem here?" she asked, her voice firm as she approached them.

The Espanyol player immediately adopted a victim expression. "She just attacked me," she declared with false innocence.

Maya felt her blood boiling again. She lunged forward, but this time found herself contained by Alexia's arms, who firmly surrounded her, forcing her to step back.

"Mara," Alexia's voice was soft but firm as she pulled her away. "Mara, listen to me."

But Maya wasn't looking at her. Her eyes, burning with rage and frustration, were fixed on the Espanyol player, who smiled with satisfaction at her reaction. The mocking smile only served to fuel her fury more, while Alexia's arms kept her in place, her voice repeating what the captain believed to be her name like a calming mantra that she could barely hear over the roar of blood in her ears.

Alexia turned toward the blonde who still remained there, planted as if her feet had grown roots into the locker room floor. Their eyes met briefly before Alexia spoke.

"This isn't your dressing room," she said, her voice firm but controlled. "You have no business here."

No more needed to be said. The rookie—because that's what she clearly was, indicated by her insecure posture and the way her eyes nervously jumped from side to side—took a step back, then another, until finally turning around and disappearing through the door without a word.

Maya broke free from Alexia's grip as if her touch burned. "Don't touch me," she snapped, turning her back to continue packing her things in the sports bag. Her movements were abrupt, almost violent, as she stuffed her belongings one by one.

Alexia didn't move. She stayed there, observing every gesture, every tense movement of Maya's shoulders. The silence grew thick, almost tangible, until Maya couldn't bear it anymore. She could feel the older player's gaze drilling into the back of her neck.

"Am I in trouble?" she asked without turning around, her voice rough as sandpaper. The question hung in the air, a clear reference to the scene Alexia had just witnessed.

"You're Mara, right?" Alexia responded, deliberately ignoring the question.

Maya snorted, turning just enough to throw her a sideways glance. "Why ask if you're so sure you know?"

"Are you always this defensive?"

Alexia's question went unanswered. Maya returned to her task, stuffing her shin guards into the bag with more force than necessary. The locker room sank into silence interrupted only by the rustle of clothing and the metallic clicking of zippers.

"I saw you playing today," Alexia broke the silence again. "You're good."

Maya's hands stopped for an instant. It was Alexia Putellas saying it, after all. The same Alexia whom all the team's girls idolized, whose name was synonymous with excellence in women's football.

"Thanks," Maya mumbled, so low it almost seemed the words had been carried away by the locker room's air conditioning.

"But it doesn't matter how good you are," Alexia continued, "if you can't control your temper, you won't get anywhere."

Those words were like a switch. Maya spun around, her blue eyes shining with indignation. "I don't have any temper or anything to control."

"Well, that's not what I saw when I walked in," Alexia responded with a calmness that markedly contrasted with Maya's agitation.

"You don't know anything," Maya rolled her eyes, but the gesture didn't entirely hide the tension in her jaw.

Alexia tilted her head, studying the younger player's face. She observed how the furrowed brow made her freckle-sprinkled nose wrinkle slightly. There was something fascinating about that rebellion. She sat on the bench, the wood creaking softly under her weight.

"Then enlighten me," she said, leaning forward. "What was happening with that girl?"

"And why exactly should I tell you?"

The question made the corners of Alexia's lips curve slightly. It was refreshing, she had to admit. While most young players looked at her with a mixture of nervousness and reverential admiration, Maya seemed immune to her presence. There was no trace of typical adulation in her eyes, just a direct, unfiltered challenge.

Alexia rose from the bench with a fluid movement, running her palms over her pants in an automatic gesture. "You really are good, Mara," she said, heading toward the door. "Try not to let it go to your head."

She was about to leave when a murmur reached her ears.

"It's Maya."

Alexia stopped dead in her tracks. "Excuse me?"

"It's not Mara, it's Maya," the young player repeated, her voice clearer this time, though she still had her back turned.

"Maya," Alexia repeated, nodding slightly before crossing the doorway, leaving behind a silent locker room and a Maya who, for the first time since the exchange began, allowed her shoulders to relax.

[meazalykov]

mother who stepped up

stepmom!lena oberdorf x mom!reader

summary: lena accepts you, and the mini-you

warnings: one mention of death, nothing too impactful to the story though. very long fic

you’ve never been one for surprises. your life, at least recently, has been built on carefully crafted routines, ensuring that your two-year-old daughter, macy, is comfortable and happy. 

dating? it was something you thought would come much later—if at all. after coming to terms with your sexuality, you didn’t want to date unti you were reassured that you’d be with the right woman for your daughter. 

here you are, sitting across from lena oberdorf, a suggestion from your well-meaning friends, and even though you like her, there’s something you or your mutual friends haven’t told her yet.

everything had been going smoothly with lena from the start. she was charming, funny, flirtatious, and made you feel seen in ways you hadn’t felt in a long time.

you didn’t think you could get used to someone so effortlessly, but somehow, lena just fit into your life—except for that one secret you hadn’t yet shared.

you’re sitting across from lena at a cozy café, sipping your coffee and listening to her talk about her game against wolfsburg– a club she played many years ago. 

it’s easy to get lost in the sound of lena’s voice, the way her eyes light up when she talks about football. you nod along, smiling as she recounts a funny moment from practice. 

for a while, everything feels perfect—simple, like your lives are in sync. in the back of your mind, you know you will have to tell her about macy. the little mini-you that is currently coloring in her daycare class across munich.

the conversation shifts to lighter topics, and you pull out your phone to check a notification. 

you sit your phone flat on the table and as you’re about to lock the screen, lena leans in, catching a glimpse of the photo that displays on both your home and lock screen. 

your heart skips a beat when you realize what she’s seeing—macy, her chubby little cheeks, dimples, and wild curls staring back at you from the lock screen. 

lena’s brow furrows slightly, curiosity flickering across her face.

“aweee who’s that?” she asks, her tone casual but with a hint of intrigue.

you freeze for a second, unsure how to respond. 

here we go, you think, heart pounding. swallowing hard, you try to brush it off with a light chuckle. 

“oh, that’s little macy.”

lena tilts her head, staring at the screen for a moment longer before locking eyes with you. 

“macy?” she echoes. “is she… your niece or something? she looks just like you.” she smiles, clearly finding the resemblance cute.

you force a small smile, feeling your throat tighten. this is it—the moment you’ve been dreading. 

“uh, no… she’s not my niece.”

“oh,” lena says, looking at you, then back at the picture. 

“then, what, a cousin? a friend’s kid?”

you can see her mind working, trying to make sense of it. your fingers tighten around the edge of your phone, and you finally decide to rip the band-aid off.

“she’s my daughter….”

lena’s eyes widen, her gaze darting back to the screen, then to you. her lips part in surprise, but she doesn’t say anything right away. she stares at the lock screen as if seeing it for the first time, really seeing it.

“your daughter?” she repeats softly, almost like she’s processing the words.

you nod, feeling the anxiety rising in your chest. 

“yeah. she’s turning two in a few months. macy’s my little girl.”

for a long moment, lena just looks at the photo, her expression unreadable. you watch as her gaze flickers between the image of macy and you, comparing the two of you. 

“she… she looks just like you,” lena murmurs, her voice almost in awe. 

“i thought she was you for a second, like, as a baby.”

you let out a small, nervous laugh, trying to keep the mood light despite the tension knotting in your stomach. 

“yeah, she’s basically my mini-me. she’s got my nose and everything.”

lena doesn’t seem to hear your attempt at humor. instead, her brow furrows deeper as she studies the photo. 

“wait, she’s… really your daughter? like, you have a kid?”

you bite your lip, feeling the weight of the moment settle over you. 

“yeah, she’s mine. i know i should’ve told you sooner, but…” you trail off, not knowing how to explain the complexity of it all.

“but why didn’t you?” lena asks, her tone still soft, but there’s something raw in her voice—an undercurrent of emotion that you can’t quite place.

you glance down at your coffee, swirling it absentmindedly. “i didn’t know how,” you admit. 

“i didn’t want to scare you off. most people aren’t exactly thrilled about dating someone with a kid.”

lena leans back in her chair, processing what you’ve said. “you thought i’d be scared off because you’re a mom?”

you shrug, feeling a little defensive but mostly scared. “it’s happened before,” you say quietly. 

“people hear ‘single mom,’ and they run for the hills. i just… didn’t want that to happen again.”

lena is quiet for a moment, her eyes still on the picture of macy. she seems to be absorbing everything, and you can’t help but hold your breath, waiting for her to say something—anything.

“is the father around?” lena says her thoughts out loud. 

“oh no no no. um– he didn’t want anything to do with macy. he also passed away shortly after mae turned one. her father and i were never together or even had feelings for eachother– it was just um..” you trail.

“i’m very sorry about that.” lena says, looking up at you before looking back to the photo of your little daughter. 

“oh no don’t apologize.” you say.

there's a pause for a few minutes. its clear that you wanted to switch the topic away from macy’s biological father, who wanted nothing to do with her before his passing anyways. 

lena looks up at you, giving your phone back with her expression softening. 

“you’d thought i’d run?” lena asks, a small, incredulous smile playing on her lips. 

“because of this? because of her?”

you shrug again, not trusting yourself to speak. all your worst fears are bubbling to the surface, and you can’t shake the feeling that this might be the moment it all falls apart.

lena reaches across the table, taking your hand gently in hers. 

“y/n, she’s beautiful,” she says, her voice sincere. “i mean, she really is a little version of you.”

you blink, the words not sinking in right away. “you… you’re not mad?” you ask, your voice trembling just slightly.

lena shakes her head, squeezing your hand. “no, i’m not mad. i just… wish you’d told me sooner. i know we’ve only been official for a week but–” she pauses, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. 

“i get why you didn’t, but… i’m not going anywhere. i like you. and now that i know about macy… i like her too. even if we haven’t met yet.”

the relief that washes over you is almost overwhelming, and you feel your eyes welling up. you’ve been bracing yourself for rejection, for lena to tell you this was too much for her. 

though here she is, sitting across from you, holding your hand, and telling you that she’s not going anywhere.

“you’re really okay with this?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“more than okay,” lena says, her voice firm but kind. 

“you’re a mom. that’s a part of who you are, and that’s okay with me.”

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your heart finally starting to settle. 

“thank you,” you whisper, blinking back the tears. “you don’t know how much that means to me coming from you.”

lena smiles, giving your hand one last squeeze before letting go. “so, when do i get to meet this little mini-you?” she asks with a teasing grin.

you chuckle softly, wiping at the corner of your eye. “soon. i just… didn’t want to spring her on you right away.”

“well, now that i know about her,” lena says, leaning back with a playful smirk, “i feel like i’m the one being kept a secret from macy.”

you laugh, the tension between you finally breaking. “i guess we’ll have to fix that soon.”

lena grins, taking another sip of her coffee. “i’m looking forward to it.”

the next day– lena doesn’t text much. you know that she is busy training at bayern but anxiety consumes you. 

your thoughts spiral. maybe she changed her mind and realized that it was too much for her. maybe she’s having second thoughts. 

by mid-afternoon, you’re glued to your phone while macy is with her aunt (your sister), checking for any sign from her. 

nothing comes, and your heart sinks.

as you’re picking macy up from your sisters, your phone finally buzzes. lena’s name flashes across the screen, and you almost drop your keys in your hurry to check it.

lena: hey, can we talk later? i’ve been thinking a lot.

you stare at the message, panic clawing at your chest. thinking doesn’t sound good. you force yourself to respond.

you: sure. what time?

the reply is almost instant. 

lena: i can come over tonight?

you hesitate. having her over… that means she’ll meet macy, and you’re not sure if you’re ready for that yet. you also know you can’t keep her at arm’s length forever. you type back quickly.

you: yes, come at 7.

you spend the rest of the afternoon trying not to overthink it. 

as soon as macy is fed and bathed, your nerves start creeping back. you’re pacing the living room, glancing at the clock, when the doorbell rings.

macy, sitting on the couch with her stuffed miffy bunny and fluffy blanket, perks up. 

“mama, door!”

you smile, ruffling her hair. 

“stay here, baby,” you say softly, walking to the door. 

you open it, and there she is—lena, standing on your doorstep wearing a black outfit along with a grey beanie, looking as unsure as you feel.

“hey,” she says, giving you a small smile.

“hey,” you reply, stepping aside to let her in. you’re about to close the door when macy toddles over, clutching her miffy bunny in her small hands. lena’s eyes immediately land on her, and she smiles.

“this must be macy,” lena says, her tone soft and warm.

you nod, watching as macy stares up at lena with her wide (reader’s color) eyes. 

“yeah, this is her.”

lena crouches down to macy’s level, holding out her hand. “hey, macy. i’m lena.”

macy looks at you for reassurance before shyly reaching out to shake lena’s hand. 

“miffy bunny,” she says, showing off her stuffed toy.

lena chuckles softly. “that’s a cool bunny.”

you watch the exchange, your heart swelling with something you hadn’t expected. lena looks so natural with macy, and it’s a sight you weren’t prepared for. 

you clear your throat, trying to shake off the wave of emotion.

“so, um, you said you wanted to talk?” you ask, motioning for lena to follow you to the couch.

she nods, standing up and giving macy one last smile before sitting beside you. macy toddles back to the couch, climbing up and sitting between your legs, still clutching her bunny as her small arms hug your waist.

“yeah,” lena says, glancing between you and macy. “i’ve been thinking a lot since last night.”

you nod slowly, waiting for the bomb to drop.

“i know this is a lot,” she continues, her voice gentle but steady. 

“and i understand if you’re worried about how i’ll fit into your life, into macy’s life, but… i want to try.”

you blink, taken aback. “you do?”

lena nods, reaching out to gently take your hand. 

“yeah. i mean, i didn’t expect this either, but i really like you, y/n. and if macy’s a part of your life, then i want to be a part of that too.”

you sit back, still reeling from the way the conversation unfolded. the tension that had knotted up your stomach starts to loosen, but you can’t help feeling the need to set some boundaries—just to be sure lena knows what this really means. 

it’s too early in the relationship to assume anything, and you don’t want to put any pressure on her, especially when it comes to macy.

taking a deep breath, you meet lena’s eyes. 

“i just want to be clear about something,” you say softly. 

“i don’t expect anything from you when it comes to macy. you’re not obligated to her, and i’d never force any duties on you. it’s still really early in our relationship, and i don’t want you to feel like you have to step into a role you’re not ready for. if you just want to date me, that’s okay. i mean it. however i just want you to understand that in a case between you vs. macy– i’ll always choose macy.”

lena watches you closely, her brow furrowing slightly as she listens. she leans forward, resting her arms on the table, and shakes her head gently. 

“y/n, you don’t have to put up walls.”

you bite your lip, feeling the weight of her gaze. “i’m not putting up walls,” you explain quietly. 

“i just… i want to be fair. macy’s is the biggest part of my life, but she’s my responsibility, not yours. i don’t want you to feel like you have to take on so much at once. i don’t want you to feel trapped.”

lena sits back in her chair, exhaling slowly. her eyes soften as she takes in your words. 

“first of all, macy isn’t a trap,” she says firmly, her tone leaving no room for doubt. 

“she’s your daughter. i don’t see that as something to run from.”

your heart stumbles at her words, but you try to stay grounded. “but it’s still a lot for you,” you press gently. 

“being with me means being with macy too, and that’s a lot to ask of anyone. especially this soon.”

lena reaches across the table again, her hand finding yours, warm and steady. “i get what you’re saying,” she begins, her voice calm but sincere. 

“and i appreciate that you don’t want to rush things or put pressure on me. but, y/n, macy is a part of you. she’s part of your life, and if i want to be with you, that means i’m choosing to include her too.”

she squeezes your hand, her eyes locked on yours. “i’m not saying i’m trying to be her mom right away, or that i know how all of this is supposed to work. but i want to figure it out. because macy is important to you, and that makes her important to me.”

your heart swells, and you can feel the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes again. you hadn’t expected this, not so soon, and certainly not with such certainty in her voice. 

it’s like lena had already made the decision in her heart before you even started this conversation.

you blink back the tears, swallowing hard as you nod. “i… i didn’t know if you’d feel that way.”

“of course i do,” lena says softly, her thumb gently brushing the back of your hand. 

“i’m not scared off by you being a mom, y/n. it doesn’t make me want this any less.” 

you take a shaky breath, overwhelmed by the depth of her words. “i’ve never had anyone say that to me before,” you admit, your voice barely a whisper. 

“it’s always been the reason people walk away.”

lena’s eyes soften even more, and she moves her chair closer to you, her hand never leaving yours. “well, i’m not them,” she says simply, her voice steady and sure. “i’m here. and i’m not going anywhere.”

the emotions well up in you, and for a moment, you’re speechless. you look down at your joined hands, feeling the weight of the moment settle over you. she’s serious. she’s really serious.

“thank you,” you finally whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “thank you for… for staying.”

lena smiles, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your temple.

macy, oblivious to the weight of the conversation, leans against your arm, yawning as she starts to doze off. 

you glance down at her, then back at lena, your heart full in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time.

from that moment on, things between you and lena shift. she starts coming over more, spending time not just with you but with macy too. 

at first, macy is a little shy around her, but lena is patient, never pushing too hard, just gently easing her way into your daughter’s life. it doesn’t take long before macy is running to the door to greet lena with a grin, her little arms reaching up for a hug.

the first time macy calls her "obi”,  your heart skips a beat. it's a simple moment—you're all sitting on the floor of your living room, surrounded by toys, when macy tugs on lena's sleeve, her big eyes looking up at her expectantly.

"obi, play?" she asks, holding out a mermaid barbie.

lena grins, taking the truck from macy. "of course liebe."

watching them together, you can't help but smile. it’s becoming clearer each day—lena’s not just here for you. 

she’s here for macy too. sometimes you joke that she is only here for macy.

as the years goes by, lena becomes more and more involved in your life. she starts joining you for bedtime routines, helping with bath time, reading macy her favorite stories as she grows older. 

after lena, macy, and you move into an apartment together— lena is for the tantrums, the messy dinners, the sleepless nights. sometimes, she will take the initiative so you can rest. the more time she spends with macy, the more it feels like she belongs in your little family.

three years after the important conversation, your life with lena feels like a dream. 

macy is five now, full of energy and curiosity, and lena has been there for all of it—every scraped knee, every preschool recital, every bedtime story. your home is filled with laughter and warmth, the life you never imagined you’d have when you were raising macy on your own. 

now, as you sit together on the couch, macy fast asleep in her room, lena leans into you, her fingers tracing patterns on your hand. she’s quiet, more thoughtful than usual, and you can sense something’s on her mind. she glances at the engagement ring on your finger, the same ring you’ve been admiring for months now, and then turns to you with a serious expression.

“i was thinking,” lena says quietly, her voice soft in the dim light.

“about what?” you ask, turning to look at her.

she hesitates for a moment, her hand pausing on your arm. “about macy. and… about us.”

your heart skips a beat, but you keep your voice steady. “what about us?”

“i know it’s still early but…” she says, her voice careful, 

you blink, processing her words. “but…?”

she takes a deep breath. “once we get married i’ll be macy’s stepmom. something i’ve been thinking about for a while. however i don’t want to wait until then. i want to be a mom to macy. if you’ll let me.”

the weight of her words settles over you, and for a moment, you’re speechless. you’d always hoped, deep down, that lena would want to be a part of macy’s life, but hearing her say it out loud—it feels overwhelming in the best possible way.

“i know i’m not her biological mom, and i’ll never try to replace that, but… i love her, y/n. i love both of you. and if you’re ready for that, i’d like to be her mom too.”

the tears you’ve been holding back finally spill over, and you reach up to cup her face, your thumb brushing against her cheek. “we’d love that, obi.” you whisper. “we’d love that.” you repeat in awe.

when macy starts calling her “mama lena,” after she turns six– your heart nearly bursts with love.

macy is seven now, and the bond between her and lena has only grown stronger over the years. she clings to lena in a way that sometimes surprises you—like she’s always seeking her approval or comfort. 

it’s been that way ever since lena officially adopted her after turning thirty-one, and you and lena got married. 

you remember that day so vividly, the moment the judge declared that lena was now macy’s legal mother. the joy on lena’s face, the way macy had leaped into her arms, calling her “mama” with such pure excitement, filled your heart with pride and love.

it wasn’t long after when lena got the call—an offer from chelsea. it was a huge opportunity, one that meant she’d be competing in the women’s super league. after a lot of late-night talks and some serious decision-making, lena accepted the offer, which meant the three of you were moving to london. 

the change was exciting, something fresh and new for all of you. macy was thrilled at the idea of living in a new city, and as for you, the thought of starting a new chapter together made you incredibly happy.

in london, lena is the person macy runs to for almost everything. scraped knees, homework help, even just to ask if she can have a snack—lena is her go-to. most days, it fills you with happiness to see them so close, to know that macy has someone who loves her so much. 

sometimes, like today, you can’t help but feel a little sting.

you’d been in the middle of getting macy ready for school. she was in a hurry as usual, fidgeting in her seat while you knelt to help her tie her shoes. 

before you could finish, she pulled her foot away, laughing. “no, no, mama lena does it better!” she giggled, her bright smile lighting up her face.

you laughed too, even though the words pricked at your heart. “oh, really?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“guess i’ll need to practice, huh?”

macy just grinned, her curls bouncing as she wiggled her toes. “yeah, you should! don’t worry, you’re still good at other stuff!”

you smiled, ruffling her hair. “well, i’m glad i’m still useful for something.”

she giggled again, completely unaware of how her innocent words had stirred something in you. 

you shoved the feeling aside quickly, focusing instead on making her laugh as you pretended to dramatically fumble with her shoes. her laughter filled the room, her curls tumbling down her back as she leaned forward in her chair, watching you with bright eyes. 

it wasn’t until you were dropping her off at school that the feeling crept back in, like a quiet ache in the pit of your stomach.

it wasn’t that you were jealous—at least, you didn’t think you were. you loved that macy and lena were so close. you’d always hoped that one day macy would have a strong bond with lena, and seeing it unfold so naturally had been like a dream come true. 

still, moments like this made you wonder if you were slowly being edged out, if macy was starting to see lena as the “cool” mom while you were just… the other one that happened to look like her.

you tried not to dwell on it too much. lena had been nothing but supportive, always making sure you knew how important you were to both of them. and really, you were happy. 

lena had embraced being a mother to macy in every way—going to parent-teacher conferences, staying up late to help with school projects, even helping macy with her football in-between training at chelsea. 

that was another thing: football.

macy had recently started showing a serious interest in the sport, much to lena’s delight. she idolized her mama, always asking about drills and tactics, begging to go to practice with her. 

one afternoon, after watching one of lena’s games, macy had turned to you both, her eyes wide with excitement. 

“i want to play football too!” she’d said, bouncing on her toes.

lena’s face had lit up with pride. “you do, huh? well, we can definitely make that happen.”

since then, lena had been working on getting macy into training, talking to coaches and setting up practice sessions in your backyard. you’d watch them sometimes, lena patiently teaching macy how to pass the ball, how to position herself. 

the way macy looked up at lena, so full of admiration, always made you smile. you were thrilled that your daughter had someone like lena to look up to, someone who could teach her the things you never could.

and yet, in the quieter moments, when macy would run to lena after a long day, her arms wrapping tightly around her waist, you couldn’t help but feel a tiny pang of sadness. it wasn’t that macy didn’t love you—she did, of course.

there was something different about the way she clung to lena, like lena was her whole world. you couldn’t blame her. lena was a natural with her, always knowing just the right thing to say or do to make macy feel safe and loved.

you’d catch yourself watching them sometimes, a soft smile on your face as you listened to their conversations, the easy way they communicated without needing to say much. you’d hide your feelings behind a joke, like the time macy had joked about lena being better at making breakfast, and you’d playfully said, “well, guess i’ll just stick to making the coffee then.” macy had laughed, and you’d felt the sting lessen, pushing it to the back of your mind.

around this time, you and lena had started talking more seriously about having another child. 

this time, you would carry, using lena’s egg along with a donor. you’d been through a few consultations, and after what felt like a whirlwind of planning and waiting, the IVF procedure was finally successful. 

you were pregnant with another little girl.

the joy that filled your heart was indescribable. the idea of adding to your family, of giving macy a sibling, was something you’d dreamed about for so long. and now, with the news confirmed, it was time to tell macy. 

you weren’t sure how she’d react—she’d always been so used to being the only one, the center of attention. but you were hopeful that she’d be excited.

one evening, you and lena sat macy down, her favorite blanket draped over her lap as she snuggled on the couch between you. lena’s arm was around your shoulders, her hand resting gently on your belly, already slightly swollen with the new life growing inside.

“munchkin,” lena said softly, looking at macy with a warm smile. “we have some big news for you.”

macy looked up, her curiosity piqued.

“what is it?”

you took a deep breath, smiling as you leaned forward a little. “you’re going to be a big sister, sweetheart.”

macy’s eyes widened, and for a moment, she just stared at you, her mind clearly racing to process what you’d said. 

“a big sister?” she repeated, her voice uncertain.

“that’s right,” lena added, squeezing your shoulder gently. “there’s a baby in here.” she gestured to your belly. “a little sister for you.”

macy’s face scrunched up, her expression a mix of confusion and hesitation. “but… i like being the only one,” she admitted, her voice small.

you shared a glance with lena, both of you understanding her hesitation. “we know, sweetheart,” you said gently. 

“and you’ll always be our first, our special girl. but having a sister means you’ll have someone to play with, someone who’ll look up to you, someone who’ll need your help.”

macy was quiet for a moment, clearly thinking about what you’d said. her little fingers twisted in the edge of her blanket, her brow furrowed as she processed the news. you could tell she wasn’t sure how to feel.

“and you’ll still get to do everything you love,” lena added. “football, school, everything. this just means there will be more love in the house. and maybe, when she’s old enough, you can teach her some football moves.”

macy’s eyes brightened a little at that, the idea of teaching someone something she loved appealing to her. “i get to teach her football?”

you smiled, nodding. “absolutely. you’re going to be the best big sister ever.”

slowly, macy’s frown faded, replaced by a tentative smile. “okay,” she said, her voice soft but a little more certain. 

“i’ll be the best big sister ever. but only if i get to teach her football.”

lena laughed, pulling macy into a tight hug. “deal.”

and just like that, your family took another step forward, your heart full of love as you prepared for the next chapter in your lives—together.

masterlist

[savi0rr]

Sweet Wife .ᐟ

Viktor x Fem! Wife! Reader

In which, Viktor’s sweet wife came to visit him. But only at night, not to be seen by anyone.

a/n: this is like….a part to my other one I think idk

୨───୨୧───୧

୨───୨୧───୧

“I can’t believe you sneaked in,” Viktor scolded, his voice a blend of exasperation and underlying relief as you stood within the confines of the dimly lit lab. Shadows flickered and danced around the cluttered workbench, creating an atmosphere that felt both secretive and intimate. You could sense the weight of his words, yet a playful smile tugged at your lips, fueled by a mischievous spark. “Dear, could you truly blame me? I’d sneak into anywhere just to see you,” you replied, your voice light and teasing, tilting your head in a manner that conveyed a hint of innocence.

Viktor let out a resigned sigh, his shoulders visibly slumping as he leaned his weight onto his crutch. The familiar crunch of metal against the cold floor resonated in the stillness of the lab, accentuating the solitude of the space. You caught sight of the flickering fluorescent bulbs, their dim light illuminating the weariness etched on his face, a testament to long hours spent lost in his work.

Eager to alleviate his discomfort, you brightened, your fingers gently resting on his shoulders, feeling the tension beneath them. “What did I tell you about standing for too long?” you chided softly, a mixture of concern and affection coloring your tone as you guided him toward the chair. With a blend of reluctance and grace, Viktor finally set his crutch aside, his gaze lifting to meet yours. The warmth of your presence seemed to draw his attention, and his eyes wandered to the gleam of your wedding ring, a small yet brilliant beacon sparkling in the dim light, catching his focus like a moth to a flame.

You noticed his fascination, and a playful smirk danced on your lips. “My husband made it for me,” you said, positioning yourself in front of him, your heart swelling with pride at the thought of his craftsmanship and love.

Viktor responded with a deadpan expression, though the corners of his lips curled into the faintest hint of a smile. “Lucky man he is,” he muttered, turning his chair slightly as he moved closer to the desk, the scent of various chemicals mingling with the warmth of shared moments stolen in this sanctuary of intellect and passion.

Pouting softly, you leaned against the desk, feeling the coolness of the polished surface against your skin, grounding you in this moment. “Don’t be like that, dear,” you teased lightly, infusing your voice with a playful lilt. Setting your book bag down with a soft thud, you began rummaging through it, your fingers dancing over the contents in search of a little surprise you had carefully tucked away.

Viktor raised an eyebrow, curiosity flaring in his gaze as he leaned in closer, intrigued yet cautious. “I’m not sure if I want to know what you’re about to pull out…” he said, a hint of wariness threading through his voice, curiosity mixing with anticipation.

You giggled softly, feeling a rush of excitement coursing through you as you finally produced a small container from your bag. Viktor’s interest piqued; his eyes darted from the container to you, anticipation bubbling in the air between you. “Don’t give me that look,” you huffed playfully, lifting the lid with a flourish to reveal your surprise—a delicate slice of cake, its layers rich and inviting, a masterpiece of indulgence adorned with swirls of cream and colorful sprinkles.

“I know we were both busy on the day we were meant to go on that date…” you murmured, your cheeks warming with a soft blush as you recalled the moment. “I just happened to pass by our favorite bakery, and I couldn’t resist picking this up,” you added, your voice tender as you shot him a wink overflowing with mischief, the kind that made your heart flutter.

Viktor’s expression transformed, a softness washing over him as warmth spread across his pale cheeks. He watched you, his heart swelling with affection, the moment a sweet balm to his weary spirit. “Then I wonder if this cake will taste just as sweet as you,” he mused, the words lingering in the air like a beloved melody, wrapped in a teasing charm.

Suddenly, a beautiful silence enveloped you both, your heart began to race at his flirtatious remark. “V-Viktor!” you stammered, eyes wide and captivated as he decisively took a bite of the cake. The playful smirk that tugged at the corners of his lips suggested he enjoyed this moment far too much. “You taste better,” he shrugged nonchalantly, throwing a hint of challenge your way, leaving you both flustered and charmed by the sweet exchange between you.

—

edit: ik i just posted this, but im going to back and change a few things about it because i feel like i over did it and made it….a lot loving than i would expect from Viktor? Is it just me? Idk but pls let me know if i should change it or just leave😭

[monstersholygrail]

Hello!

God, I love the idea of werebirds/the bird colony!

What if the dance instructor did end up making a nest with all the nesting material they gave them (however/where ever they’d do that)? What would the colony think?

What if the colony got together and used their dance knowledge to create some sort of mating dance for the instructor? Teasing the instructor with their ruffling, colorful feathers in a mesmerizing display.

I need more of them lmao

Hope you have a great day/night💜💜

When word got around the all male Bird Hybrid Colony that you had made a nest in your office out of the materials they had gotten for you, loud fierce chirps rang throughout the studio. The bird hybrids wings flapping erratically at your acceptance of them.

Your building a nest they provided you in such a private place had to mean that you were finally agreeing to their mating offers. Their feathers ruffled and they all preened at the thought of claiming you as a mate should by fucking into you with abandon and filling you to the brim with cum till you’re growing their eggs inside of you.

But they knew they had to do something special, something really over the top in order to make sure you were ready for them to breed you till you were so fucked out you couldn’t see straight. What better way to do that than a mating dance?

They’d all show you just how much they had learned under your seductive and arousing teachings. Together they created the most powerful mating dance for you that anyone had ever seen.

It was an offer that was impossible to refuse and their minds couldn’t help but imagine the way your thick thighs would spread for them. Your pussy glistening with arousal. They can practically taste how good your fat cunt will be when they finally get their wings and hands on you.

Their eagerness to please you both in dance and by filling all your holes till you can’t take it anymore is clear in their burning gaze. The next week at dance class is filled with a crackling tension. Their feathers successfully hiding their hard cocks, tips red, angry, and dribbling pre cum with their mate so close.

When you heard your class had a surprise for you, you were immediately intrigued. The fact that they’re wanted to dance for you already turning you on as your panties flood with arousal. Something that didn’t go unnoticed by the bird hybrids as your scent perfumed the air.

It only spurned them on and made them more desperate to dance for you and sink themselves inside your wet heat. Their feathers ruffled out, showcasing them all so that you can see just how lovely of mates they’ll be as the dance starts.

The colony begins dancing as one large machine, their colorful feathers spinning and mixing to create a truly brilliant show. You’re in awe as you watch it, a mix of moves you’ve taught them combined of more traditional mating dances. Their biology combining with what they’ve learned. Almost like you’re a part of them now. You squirm in place, thighs rubbing together, needy for some type of friction.

By now as you watch them you’re sure you’ve soaked through your panties, your skin unbearably hot with need. It’s not even the dance itself that’s getting you so hot and bothered but the fact that even with their attraction to you they still pay attention to the actual work. Their passion for you mingling with their passion for dance. And it has you wanting to take them all here and now.

As if being able to read your thoughts, the bird hybrids descend onto you. A part of the routine as they pull you into the middle of them. Hands touching every part of your body. You gasp as claws tease at your skin while others rip your clothes to shreds, leaving you naked before them.

A moment later they bring you down in the nest you lovingly made for them that they got from your office. Beautiful cocks of all shapes and sizes nudge at the openings of each of your holes. With your mind hazy with lust you let yourself give in, opening wide for them to push inside you. You moan lowly at the delicious stretch of your mouth, hands, cunt, and bottom. Every inch of you filled with them.

The music from their dance stops at one point but your bird hybrids are nowhere near done with you. Furiously fucking into you as if they’ve gone completely savage. Only knowing for certain that you need their cum.

Your moans and their chirps of pleasure echo against the walls as they slam themselves inside of you. Your body on fire as every inch of you is being stimulated with more pleasure than you’ve ever known.

They pass you around from hybrid to hybrid and you quickly lose track. Their forms becoming a blur of color and ecstasy as they fill with you cock after cock, the colony seemingly endless. You’re feeling so much of everything all at once and it’s overwhelming but in the past way possible as you try and meet all of their thrusts at once.

You cum countless times, your body shaking with the sensations overtaking you. You swear you black out for a moment only to wake up coming again, a strangled cry falling past your lips as a fresh wave of pleasure washes over you.

Your bird hybrids eventually get their fill of you, knowing their plump human needs a break. They slip out of you only once you’re fucked full of cum and limp on the floor, too tired to move let alone lift a limb.

So they take care of your every need, cleaning you up, whispering words of love and affection for you their mate, and cuddling up to you after. You nuzzle into their furry bodies, finding so much comfort in their embrace that you fall asleep in a matter of seconds.