#the last time i attempted to write sex i was... 15 i think. and it was a horrible experience

[beevean]

Kind of torn if I could post parts of my Isaactor+Hectaly WIP >.>

The Isaactor parts are pretty much complete and I kinda like them, the Hectaly parts are more complex though. The whole thing is a stream of consciousness anyway so the flow wouldn’t be *too* affected

Dunno, just to complement the gushy post I made.

[ladycaramelswirl]

definitely not old

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

A/N: Did I create an extremely improbable scenario just to suit my need to create another highly improbable scenario? Yes. Do I care that it’s unrealistic? No. Please forgive any typos/ grammatical errors. 

CW: suggestive content, but not explicit (like 15+?). Use of y/n one time. (Technically this would probably warrant one of those hostile workplace environment seminars like they had for Derek and Penelope. But it’s funny? Idk this isn’t serious.) Sassy Hotch. Crack plot tbh. 

Also I know the timeline doesn’t really make sense, because JJ is a profiler and Emily and Rossi exist, but I imagined Season 1 Spencer while writing this! I guess it’s 2005? Btw I do not know how tapes work, so just pretend it makes sense please. This is so unserious. 

Summary: reader wife and Hotch are private people; the BAU team is nosy. Spencer is just constantly in the right place at the wrong time. 

Enjoy!

——————

The screen in front of you depicted horror - just not the kind the BAU was used to. The UnSub had confessed to leaving a message in an old tape. He had already been arrested, but you were all hoping it might contain something that might help the conviction stick. Only he was extremely paranoid, so not only had he left the message in a code, but he had spliced it into a tape he thought people were least likely to watch. His p***. It was the last thing to do for the case and everyone was trying to help. You all sit at the round table, and Spencer shifts in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. Derek laughs at his shyness and Emily laughs at the very unrealistic movements. She and JJ tilt their heads at the shape the two on the screen have put themselves into. 

“That does not look comfortable”, JJ mocks. 

The words are out of your mouth before you think. “Trust me it’s not”. 

Everyone at the table snaps their heads to look at you. 

“Damn Mama”, Derek laughs. “Who are you doing these moves with?”

You try to hold back a laugh. You were not ready to share about your sex life with your colleagues, no matter how close you were. Plus you’re pretty sure Aaron would not appreciate it. 

“That is inappropriate workplace conversation”, you say, pausing the video. “And you’re going to miss the next series of code”, you tell him, trying to get him to revert his attention back to the video. Emily grins at your attempted evasion.

“We already got all the code. She just doesn’t want us to tell Hotch she’s capable of all that. Doesn’t want to make the old man feel bad”.

“He’s not old. He’s only 5 years older than you”, you remind her. She puts a hand on her chest in mock offense like you’ve stabbed her. You roll your eyes. “And this is still inappropriate”.

“So it wasn’t Hotch”, Derek laughs. 

“You’re just annoyed because you haven’t tried it yourself”, you deflect, moving to sit next to Spencer who seems to actually be doing his job. 

“I’ve seen her do yoga and she’s very flexible, so if she couldn’t do it I don’t think you can”, JJ tells Morgan. 

“Oh you have no idea what I’m capable of”, he teases, which earns laughs from around the table. “I’m better than the old man for sure”. They all start laughing and talking about you and Hotch. 

You roll your eyes. “Wasn’t old in bed last night”, you mutter under your breath. You startle at the sound of a book hitting the floor and see Spencer’s bright red face. JJ, Derek and Emily look over in curiosity at what they might have missed, but you ignore them, attempting to give Spencer an apology for making him uncomfortable. He moves to drink his coffee in an attempt to avoid more of the conversation. Only he chokes on it because Hotch enters the room. 

“Have you finished working out the code?”

Everyone’s heads snap to him - JJ, Emily and Derek wearing matching grins. Hotch eyes you patting a coughing Spencer’s back.

“Are you alright?”, he asks. 

“Yes! Good! I’m good!”, Spencer squeaks, afraid Hotch is going to ask him why he’s so nervous. Aaron looks to you for some answers but before you can tell him it’s nothing, Spencer suddenly stands up.

“Got the code! Going to call the local PD. DA is waiting”, he warbles before you all watch him run out of the room. Hotch turns back to the rest of you. 

“Well then that wraps it up. Go home now, get some rest”, he instructs. Everyone starts packing up. You and Hotch walk towards the door when he realises there’s only 6 of you in the room. 

“Where’s Dave?”, he asks.

You’re about to tell him Rossi went to the bathroom when the Italian walks back in. Rossi immediately notes the paused video.

“Wow that looks uncomfortable”, he remarks. Everyone smirks in your direction. Hotch snakes an arm around your waist and looks at the screen. Then at you. 

“It was, wasn’t it?”

He smiles at the jaws dropping to the floor. 

“Good night everyone”.

—————————

A little bonus scene:

In his office later:

“You heard us talking before you came in the room didn’t you”, you question your husband. He was so private, he wouldn’t have said something like that otherwise. 

“They called me old”, Aaron grumbles, but his tone is amused. “Just wanted to shock them a little”.

You make your way over to his side of the desk, pulling him to stand up beside you. 

“Well Agent Hotchner, I have to tell you, there’s been some speculation about your performance”, you taunt. “Care to prove them wrong?”

“Last night wasn’t enough proof?”, he laughs raising an eyebrow. You run your hands up his chest and behind his neck, pulling him close. 

“The results were inconclusive”, you tease. He grabs your hips and traps you between himself and his desk, his mouth trailing kisses down your jaw. 

“Well I can’t have that kind of speculation going around”, he murmurs into your skin. Your breath hitches from the sensation of his lips on the sensitive spot on your neck. But instead of continuing, he pulls away and meets your eyes in a conspiratorial grin. “We should do an in house evaluation as soon as possible”.

You open your mouth to reply when the door swings open, Spencer finding you sandwiched between Hotch’s thighs and your blouse rumpled. His mouth drops open and suddenly all 187 iq points mean nothing when his brain loses function.

“Oh- I- um- sorry!”, he manages before running away. You stare at the slammed door then back at Aaron and burst into giggles. He drops his head to your shoulders and sighs. 

“I feel like a teenager”, he groans.

“At least you don’t feel old.”

—————————

Bonus bonus: 

Still in the conference room: 

“I want to go back to 10 minutes ago when I didn’t know this information”, Emily moans. 

“I think I need 5 more minutes before I can form a coherent thought”, JJ laughs in disbelief. Spencer walks back in.

“I finished my report. Where’s Hotch and y/n? Can we go home?”

“Probably doing it in his office for all we know”, Derek mutters.

Spencer’s brows furrow in confusion. “Doing what in his office?”

Rossi raises an eyebrow at Emily. “Is this kid serious?”

She shrugs back at him. 

“Spence, Hotch says we can go home. But you should probably report about what local PD told you before you go”, JJ tells him.

Spencer nods and makes his way to Hotch’s office. The rest of the team watch him walk away.

“You think we should have told him to knock before going in?”

“Probably.”

The sound of a high pitch yelp and the slam of an office door echo down the hallway. 

“Oops.”

——————

thank you for reading :)

masterlist

[reiderwriter]

I’d love if you could do a very fluffy-smut with Spencer, like you had a tough case and the day after he calls asking you to go to his apartment and you see he has made food & made a fort to watch movies with fairy lights and just everything really romantic & it ending with very slow/soft sex🩵

A/N: I loved writing this one! Spencer is absolutely the type to build a perfectly engineered pillow fort just because you're having a bad day 😭😭 I hope you enjoy it!!

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, soft sex, oral sex (f receiving), slow/ gentle sex, multiple orgasms, implied creampie/ no contraception mentioned :) tee hee

There was something about the cases that took you to the other side of the country that sunk the ache into your bones just that little bit more. 

It didn't matter if you were going for a kidnapping or a serial or a spree, you always returned more weary than before. The weeks work that you endured was never as tough as returning home to your empty apartment, to the cold floor and the lonely bed. 

This time, your case had a happy ending. You weren't sure how many more of them you were going to be able to live through before the bad endings rendered them null and void. It didn't matter how many people you saved some days because your brain was crowded with the names and faces of the ones you didn't. 

The drive home from Quantico was unsurprisingly quiet. Having landed in the dead of night, there were never going to be too many people on the roads to your apartment. 

You weren't sure if it was fate, or the fact that you hadn't eaten anything in the last 18 hours that made you pull over to the side of the road to pick something up from the 24 hour drive thru, but in the end you were glad you did. 

The second you pulled your car off the road, taking a breather and deciding to stretch your legs a bit before going in to order, your phone screen lit up. 

“Spencer,” you answered the phone, “what's up?” 

“Y/N, hey, I just got home. Listen, remember last month I was talking to you about that one indie film that I couldn't find anywhere? Well, a friend of mine from college just sent me a file entitled ‘the movie.’” 

You weren't sure if it was Spencer’s enthusiasm or just the way you were always ready to drop anything to do something with him that had you giggling and nodding along. You didn't remember the discussion, let alone the movie he meant, but you liked hearing him talk about the things he was passionate about. 

“So I was thinking, we're both probably not going to get much sleep anyway since we clocked out only 23 minutes ago - movie night?” 

“You couldn't have called at a better time, Spencer. I'm grabbing food, text me your order and I'll see you in 15.”

-X-

The drive to Spencer’s apartment was clear, but the hum in the air was lighter than  the silence of before. By the time you pulled onto his street, your mood had already brightened significantly.

You trudged up to his apartment softly so as not to cause any complaints and sent him a text to let him know you were waiting outside. 

You knew instantly that he'd received and read it - the garbled sound of the large man tripping over his feet in his attempt to rush to the door were the same every time you arrived. Stubbing his toe on some pile of books or the other was practically ritual. 

“Hi,” he whispered, opening the door just a crack and giving you a bright smile. 

“Hi,” you smiled back. “I bought food.”

“Perfect. That's perfect. You're… come on in. It's cold, right?” He guided you into the small entryway in his apartment and let you drop your keys with his as if they were supposed to be tangled together. 

“I have a little surprise.” He said, suddenly sounding bashful as he grabbed for your hand in the dark - you hadn't realised as he'd led you in but there were no lights on in the small apartment on at all, as far as you could tell. 

“What? Spencer-” 

“You'll like it, I promise, you just have to trust me.” You relaxed as he wrapped an arm around your waist and tugged you with him into his living space. His hand was warm as it settled against the small on your back, and his chest was surprisingly broad and firm as you brought up your hands to steady yourself against him. 

“Okay, now close your eyes.” 

“The apartment is pitch black. Why am I closing my eyes?” You giggled a little, surprised that your whole body felt so light and calm now, when it had felt so terrible only half an hour before. 

“Trust me,” he said, and you did. Truth be told, your eyes were already shut before the words had even left his mouth. 

“Okay, you can open them now.” 

He must have flipped a light switch the second you opened your eyes because your vision was blurred by the dazzling light when you did. 

Blinking through the adjustment, you started making out shapes and couldn't stop the small tears that pricked the corners of your eyes. 

He hadn't just invited you around for a movie night - he'd built a fort. Held up by a few chairs and piles of books, he'd managed to prop up at least three layers of blanket to surround the most comfortable looking floor you'd ever seen. 

You didn't even know he owned this many pillows, but when he tugged your hand down as he began to move into the fort, you didn't need to care. 

Not with his fingers gently laced with yours and the fairy lights he'd surrounded everything with, giving his skin a golden glow. You didn't need any explanation. You just needed him to hold you. 

“Spencer this is beautiful,” you whispered, sound dampened by the lump in your throat that you tried to swallow, to no relief. “This must've taken so much time. How did you even-”

“PhD in Engineering. I don't get much use out of it these days, but it certainly comes in handy.” 

You couldn't help the laugh that burst from you, the tears finally flowing as tears of joy. 

“Spencer, what is all this for?” 

“It's just because. You looked like you had a hard day, and I enjoy spending time with you.” 

They weren't the most romantic words in the world. They probably didn't come close to some quotes he could recite as easily as breathing. But they hit you hard and fast. 

You knew you were in love with Spencer Reid long before this moment, but there was no holding back the flood after hearing the sincerity in his voice. 

You slowly stretched your neck up and pressed your lips against his. It was fleeting, a small moment that if this didn't pan out, you could brush off as a friendly show of appreciation. 

You pulled away to gauge his reaction, but you didn't get to. His hand on your neck had pulled you back to him for another slow, but deep kiss, and it was as if your entire body was on fire in those sheets. 

You weren't sure how long you spent breathing each other in, exploring each others lips softly. You just knew you were growing desperate for more. You didn't notice that you'd climbed into his lap until your eagerness knocked him onto his back, forcing you apart. 

Your chest lay atop his as you both gasped for air, legs tangled, eyes locked as both of you feared talking first. 

After almost too long without anything said or done, Spencer chose silence again, flipping your positions so you were the one on your back on the pillows as he hovered over you, lips meeting yours again. 

This time, you made the conscious decision to wrap your legs up around his waist, hand tangling in his hair as you smiled and giggled against his kisses, so obliviously happy to be there with him. 

“I love you,” you whispered between kisses, not even hesitating for a second to contemplate whether he felt the same. 

“I love you more,” he said as if it were a competition where you both won in the end. 

You became more talkative after that, responding to every touch, every kiss with praise and a confession, a moan as his fingers pushed under your shirt, a shaky breath as they unbuttoned your pants. 

“Fuck, Spencer, please touch me more,” you begged as his hand toyed with your nipple, having discarded your shirt and bra quickly after receiving permission to do so. 

“I will. I want to know all of you,” his voice was strong even in a whisper, as he dropped his head to your other nipple to begin suckling and teasing you. 

You always thought his hair would be soft, had been tempted on multiple occasions to tuck a strand behind his ear, or just run a hand through it, and now you held it firm, pushing him further into your chest as you arched into his mouth. 

“I want to feel m-more of you, Spencer.” 

He raised his gaze to you as he let go of your nipple with a pop and quietly complied with your will. Trailing his head lower, he kissed across the expanse of your stomach, biting and sucking here and there to leave a path of markings in his wake before arriving right where he wanted to be. 

He made quick work of your pants and panties both, surprised that a man who never failed to bump into things in his own living space could be so graceful when it came to divesting you of your clothing. 

You couldn't ponder for too long as he dived between your legs, spreading you open like a book he needed to read and memorise. His to guess hit your clit quickly, and a few twitches and moans here and there showed him how you liked it, where you needed him and his tongue. 

You again got to grasp his hair  pulling him further into your wet cunt as you chased your high, needing so desperately to ride out an orgasm against his face. 

When his two fingers stretched you open, you practically drowned him, thighs clamping shut as your brain emptied itself of stress. 

You calmed down and watched him come up for air, fingers still slowly and gently pumping inside of you, reminding you that this wasn't over. 

“You taste sweet.” 

“I know how much you like sweet things.” Your juices glistened on his lips and chin, a few drops running down his neck as you stared at him with pure desperation in your eyes. 

“Spencer, please, fuck-” his fingers picked up speed every time you tried again.

“Spencer, fuck me, please  just fuc-”

“As you wish, Y/N.” 

He didn't bother removing his own clothing, though you desperately wanted to see his entire length and explore him just as he had with you. 

But after cumming on his face already, you decided you'd let him go with whatever he wanted. 

Shifting up behind you as you laid there, he gently rolled your body onto its side as he pulled your back towards him, giving him better access to your cunt as you arched into him again. 

He sank in slowly, almost as if he was scared to break you, but didn't stop until he was almost fully inside of you, practically sheathed. 

He adjusted his hold on you, wrapping both arms around your waist and pulling your back flush against his chest as he pressed open-mouthed kisses against your neck.

With deep, slow strokes, he made love to you. You weren't sure if it was the fairy lights, or if it was just that good, but you saw stars, saw them burnt into your eyes, watched them every time the pleasure felt too good and your eyes rolled back into your head. 

The second orgasm came slower than the first, but it was just as hot. 

“Y/N, look at me - you're so beautiful, I want to watch you cum.”

“Spencer, love- I love you, I love you, fuck, oh my god, I love you so much.” You reached for his lips but he pressed his forehead against yours as he whispered in your ear a final time: “cum for me now.” 

Your body wasn't one for taking your queues, but it responded to him as if he'd been the missing part you'd missed this entire time. 

Your cunt tightened around him, milking his cock as he moaned and released seconds after you did. 

You lay tangled in those blankets and pillows for hours after, and you weren't afraid or lonely anymore. 

[nereidprinc3ss]

hii i love love how u write spencer omds🥸

uhh i was wondering if you could write sth based off the song “we’ll never have sex” by leith ross? pls dont feel pressured to write this btw😭😭😭 hope ur having a good day lovely💗💗

hello my love i have no self control so this is extremely long and plotty but i love this song and i hope that this is any good at all crying emoji (i'm on a laptop LOL) enjoy!!

warnings/tags: angst/fluff, fem!reader, negative self-talk from reader, mentions of past sexual coercion/feeling used, mentions of past excessive drinking to combat social anxiety, ive been watching a lot of new girl lately and i think it shows, SO FRIENDS TO LOVERS, happy ending

You weren’t expecting to end up on Spencer Reid’s worn-leather couch at two in the morning, clutching a chipped mug of coffee in your hands as you listen to the sounds of the city from the street below. But there you are, sitting with your legs folded under you, in your favorite dress and first date-night makeup (now bleeding and smudged from all the crying.) And realizing that despite considering him one of your closest friends, you haven’t been to his apartment in a long time. There are, of course, good reasons for that—but you try to push those from your mind. 

“I’m really sorry about this,” you sigh, staring at your warped reflection in the glassy black surface of your coffee. Spencer is coming out of the small kitchen, now bearing his own cup. 

“Please, stop apologizing.” 

You glance up, tentatively studying him from behind the safety of your mug. While he may not have been asleep when you knocked on his door ten minutes ago, lachrymose and barely verbal, he must have been getting ready for bed. He’s clad in patterned pajama pants, mismatched socks, and an FBI crewneck that is just big enough to reveal the collar of the tee-shirt underneath. He’s already taken out his contacts, and you were startled by the reminder that he also has glasses. 

“So...” he begins, bringing you back to the present moment, “we don't have to talk about anything, if you don’t want to, but...” 

You sigh, watching coffee bubbles swirl like stars in a galaxy. 

“It’s fine. Honestly, I’m kind of embarrassed. I didn’t really think, I just... ended up here.” 

“Yeah... where did you come from?” he laughs quietly. “Not that I’m complaining. But I recall you not living super close by.” 

“No, no. I was actually on a date. Kind of.” 

“Ah.” There’s a beat of silence, and ostensibly Spencer is waiting for you to say more, but instead you take a sip from your mug. “At two in the morning?” You nod dully, staring at the labyrinthine pattern of the Persian rug.  

“I’m taking it that it wasn’t a very good date...?” 

A whoosh of air escapes from your puffed cheeks. 

“No it was not. Not by the end, anyway. It actually started really well, which made it even more disappointing when he...” you laugh, but there’s not much humor in it. “Well, when he kicked me out of his car on a street corner because I didn’t want to sleep with him.” 

You don’t look to see Spencer’s reaction—only take another long, baleful sip of coffee and ignore the heavy silence.  

“I’m really sorry. You... you deserve so much better than that.” 

An attempt at a jaded scoff from you falls flat. 

“Yeah, well. Tell that to the last three white house interns I’ve gone on dates with. It’s the same thing every time.” 

“Have you considered going on fewer dates with white house interns...?” The nervous humor is a thin veil over genuine critique. You shrug, biting the inside of your cheek. 

“It’s not just them. Every single guy I’ve liked since I was 15 has been like this. Even my past relationships, I felt like I was almost... tricked into, you know? I mean, these guys, they act all understanding and willing to take it slow or whatever, until you’re in a relationship, and suddenly they’re guilt tripping you so hard and making you feel so obligated to...” you catch yourself just in time, glancing up at Spencer. You’re not sure what to make of his expression. The drawn brow and slightly squinted eyes trained so intently on you could be sympathy, or anger, or pity, or apathy—you look away, not sure you even want to know what he’s thinking. “Sorry. You don’t need to hear all about that. Basically romance is exhausting and since I’ll clearly be single forever I’m considering running away to join a nunnery.” 

When he doesn’t respond for too long, you look back up quizically. 

“I’m not sure you know what romance actually is,” he says as soon as your gaze meets his, like the eye-contact activated some kind of hair-trigger in his vocal box. 

You blink, lowering the coffee cup to your lap. 

Says Spencer Reid? 

“...sorry?” 

He flushes, stammering to clarify himself. 

“I just meant—I—I know I’m not exactly fighting women off with a stick—” he interrupts himself with a self-conscious (adorable) laugh— “but... but I have been in love, at least once.”  

“Maeve,” you say, gently—trying to shove down bitter guilt as you remember how jealous you’d been when Spencer had first told you about her. “I remember.” 

He swallows and nods. 

“We never even met—we just talked. All the time. I had no idea what she looked like. But it didn’t matter at all. Because I knew her, and I loved her. Maybe things would have gone further if I hadn’t been calling her from public phone booths, but that wasn’t the most important thing to either of us. We were still in love.” You try to shut out the sharp ache in your chest. Being jealous of the way he speaks about a dead woman is so wrong.  

“What I’m trying to say is that romance isn’t solely about sex, or even physical appearance. It sounds to me like you’ve been with a lot of men who don’t understand that. And it would be such a shame for you to write romance off in general before you even get to experience it. You are... an extraordinary woman. You’re funny, and intelligent, and kind, and so capable of being loved. One day, someone is going to see beyond your pulchritude and prove that to you. I hope you let them try.” 

More tears blur the pattern on the rug, pooling in the rims of your eyes before spilling down your cheeks in fast, fat drops. Shakily you set the cup down, resting your elbows on your knees and hiding your face in your hands. You sniff once. Twice. Shake your head quickly, attempting to wipe the tears away without further smearing your makeup everywhere. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Spencer breathes, leaning forward but obviously unsure how to comfort you. “Please don’t cry, I wasn’t--I was trying to do the opposite of this.” 

“No, I’m sorry! You didn’t have to—you didn’t—I’m sorry. That was way too nice.” 

But you're not crying because he was nice.  

Someone will love you, but not me. That’s all you can hear. 

His voice is a mere whisper when he next speaks. 

“I meant every word.” 

You take a shuddering breath, allowing yourself a moment of reprieve behind the peaceful black of your eyelids. You can’t be looking at his face when you say what you’re about to say. 

“I had a crush on you for the longest time, you know.” 

Ringing silence. But it doesn’t last as long as you’d imagined. It’s not as world ending. 

“Had?” 

The little smile in his voice is like a fist around your heart. 

“Yeah. You know what changed?” 

“What’s that?” 

Absolutely nothing. 

“Every time I got super drunk and started hitting on you, you’d just drive me home. And I did it a lot. Like, for months. But you were such a gentleman. It drove me fucking crazy. So eventually I figured you just didn’t like me and I gave up.” 

Another stretch of silence. A breeze comes in from the open window, fluttering the curtains and cooling the tears on your face. His response is sad when it finally comes. 

“You thought I didn’t like you because I didn’t try to take advantage of you when you were drunk?” 

“Pretty much.” You smile ruefully, fingertips still pressed over your eyes. “God, listen to me. No wonder I get treated like garbage.” 

“Stop. Don’t talk about yourself like that. Did you hear anything I just said?” 

You sniff, looking to the ceiling. 

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. It was really sweet.” 

More silence. 

“But you don’t believe it.” 

A bitter laugh poisons the air around you. 

“I don’t know.  I’m kind of tired of waiting for someone to prove it to me. Just for once, I want someone to be interested in me beyond having sex in the back of their fucking... Range Rover, or whatever. Like, maybe all that stuff you said is true, but there’s no evidence to support it, and I know logically you’re probably right but I can’t help wondering if... if I’m the outlier. Maybe there just isn’t someone for me like that. Maybe I’m just gonna be the sex in the back of the Range Rover girl forever.” 

A noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob forces itself from your throat and you bury your face in your hands again, shaking your head. 

“Wow, I am so sorry,” you say a little too loudly, “I did not mean to be this honest tonight. Did you spike my coffee?” 

“You are not the outlier,” Spencer whispers.  

You sniff, lifting your head haltingly to look at him. 

“What?” 

His voice shakes slightly as he speaks. 

“You said you can’t help wondering if you’re the outlier, and maybe there just isn’t someone for you like that. That’s not true.” 

“Spencer, those are just words. You can’t possibly know that. Statistical probabilities don’t count.” 

“That’s... that’s not how I know.” 

Your heart drops as you study his face.  

No. 

Surely he’s not saying what you think he’s saying. 

Surely he wouldn’t do this to you after you’ve just told him everything you told him. You have been harboring feelings for him for years. Since you met. He can’t just spring this on you one night because you’re a little bummed out. If he felt the same, you would have found out a long time ago; he had ample opportunity to tell you. There was a period of months where you practically threw yourself all over him at every chance you got, and he did nothing. So this... this is just cruel—something you’ve never known Spencer Reid to be. 

You stand up, trembling slightly with rage and grief and humiliation. 

“Don’t do that. Don’t say things that you don’t mean just to make me feel better.” 

“What are you doing? Don’t--” 

You scoop up your purse, trying to get to the front door as fast as your gelatinous legs will allow. More tears are streaming down your face now and you don’t need him to see what he’s done to you—to see how much you care what he thinks. 

“It’s fine. Thanks for the coffee, I’ll see you around—” 

A hand around your wrist stops you in your tracks 

“Stop. Just... please give me a second to talk, okay?” 

With nothing left to give, you turn to him. 

“Don’t be mean, Spencer. Don’t act like you liked me too. That makes me feel... so much worse.” 

He takes a deep, shaky breath, as if steeling himself. Tawny eyes bore into your soul, and you realize that there is so much sheer nervous energy radiating off of him it’s infectious. Your heart begins to pound as he speaks. 

“I’m not doing that. I’m being an idiot, because you just told me that you don’t feel that way about me anymore but... but I do. And I have to tell you now because for six months I tortured myself wondering why you would flirt with me so much when you were hammered and then act like nothing happened the next day. There were so many times I almost told you how I felt but I didn’t and now I am because even if it ruins our friendship you need to know that somebody... that I wanted to be that person for you. I still do.” 

Your heart is like an unmoored zeppelin in your chest, bumping against your esophagus and threatening to either burst or jump out of your mouth. You take your chances, whispering so quietly it’s almost inaudible. 

“You... you like me?” 

“Yes,” Spencer sighs. “I have liked you for a very long time. And I’m sorry—” 

Whatever ridiculous thing he was going to apologize for, you don’t give him the chance. Instead you launch yourself at him, capturing his lips in a kiss that feels so much better than it’d ever been in your fantasies because it’s real. You hear his sharp intake of breath, but it only takes a second for him to respond, cradling your face in his hands like you’re the entire world. For a moment, time bends. Years of longing, of buried dreams crash into the present in a brilliant, dazzling explosion.

And then, as quickly as it started, he pulls away. The absence of his touch is like a vacuum, so much worse now that you know exactly how it feels to have his lips on yours, even if it was only for a few seconds. How the hell did you live like that for so long? How are you supposed to live like that ever again?

“You’re not thinking clearly,” he breathes, tilting his head back toward the ceiling like he’s barely holding onto his self control. “You just want someone to comfort you, I’m not going to take advantage of you when you’re in an emotionally vulnerable state and confided in me which is manufacturing a false sense of attachment—” 

You grab his wrists, which still graze your jaw.

“Spencer, stop intellectualizing for thirty seconds. I promise you I am thinking clearly.” 

“You said you used to like me, past tense—” 

“Yeah, I did. Do you believe every single murderer who says he didn’t do it?” 

“No, but—” 

“Have you ever heard the phrase; a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts?” 

“Of course I have.” 

“Then what more could you possibly need to be convinced that I really like you? I already kissed you! What is stopping you?” 

Another deep breath is taken by him that seems to suck all the air out of the quiet room. Briefly, you wonder if you’ve made a terrible, terrible mistake. If you really do like him so much more than he could ever like you.  

Until he looks back down, eyes so golden-brown in the dim light, so kind and full of affectionate concern as he carefully assesses every square centimeter of your face, looking for... well, you’re not exactly sure what. It’s like he’s extracting every thought from your head, turning them over like sun-warmed stones until he finds what he’s looking for. He smooths his hands over your hair, brushing strands away from your teary face. Finally, after what feels like an eternity of holding your breath, he speaks. 

“I just want you to believe what I believe about you. But I don’t want you to have to rely on me or anyone else for your own self-worth.” 

“Well, don’t you think very highly of yourself,” you tease with a sniffle. He laughs—it's quiet, but his smile is so bright without even trying that suddenly you can’t remember why you’ve ever been sad. The small miracle of his laughter makes you feel so light, and you realize it has nothing to do with the way he makes you feel about yourself. It has everything to do with who he is. 

Once the giggles die down, you tentatively mirror his hold on your face. 

“Spencer, I don’t like you because you like me. I’ve liked you for an embarrassingly long time. I liked you enough that I gave myself a severe hangover at least once a week for three months just so I could have an excuse to flirt shamelessly with you.” 

A half-sad smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, and he gently swipes under your eyes. 

“You never had to do that. I would have welcomed your sober brazen flirting with open arms.” 

“Well... do you believe me?” you plead. His amber eyes shine. 

“I do.” 

“Will you kiss me?” 

“If that’s what you want.” 

You nod, rising on your toes to meet him halfway. 

When your lips meet again, it is sweet, and honest, and slow, and deep. Still, there is no desperation--no race to an imagined finish line, no clash of teeth and pawing hands. It is a kiss for the sake of it—as if it were the greatest intimacy. Not a precursor to sharing a bed, but something bigger than that in and of its own. Something just as worthy and important. For the first time, you think you’re beginning to understand romance. And while you wouldn’t mind if things did escalate, you also know that Spencer knows that’s not what matters right now. Because he actually understands you—he actually cares. He will wait until you understand that you mean so much more than that to him.

To that end, he pulls away, gently supplanting his absence with a kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

“It would be polite of me to offer you a ride home, wouldn’t it?” he whispers, like it’s the last thing he wants to do. You bite the inside of your cheek, coming up with reasons not to go. One ridiculous one arises from the depths of your memory that you know he won’t be able to say no to. 

“Or... I could stay here, and we could watch one of those nerdy foreign films you’re always talking about?” 

A slow, perfect, high-watt smile blossoms on his face, and you know you’ve said exactly the right thing. 

“Nerdy? Oh, my darling girl... Soviet-era filmography is far from nerdy. небесная машина will completely defy what you thought you knew about the life of an average Russian villager in the 1950’s.” 

“Oh, good. Because I’ve really been meaning to change the way I think about the average 1950’s Russian villager,” you smile, already closing in to kiss him again. 

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

epilogue

Three hours later, you’re crying because the life of the average Russian villager in the 1950’s was so much worse than you’d previously thought. 

“It was good, right?” Spencer asks as the credits roll over a bleak snowy sepia landscape, leaning back to get a better look at you. You sit up from where you’d been leaning against him, furiously wiping your eyes. 

“It was terrible! Why didn’t you tell me that everyone except the kid dies in the end?!” 

“Because that’s the whole point of the movie!” he laughs, pulling you back into him. “I’m sorry. I probably should have explained how depressing this entire era of film was outside of the US.” 

“And also how long the movies were. I was not prepared for how many five minute long clips of empty fields there were going to be.” 

“You’re right,” he ammends, wrapping his arms around you in a way that gives you butterflies and makes you sleepy at the same time. “Next time we can watch whatever you want to watch.” 

Time passes like that—you in his arms, watching weak light slowly flood the room with half-lidded eyes and listening to the sounds of the city waking up from the street below, underscoring the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Thoughts float by like leaves on the ever-flowing current of your mind, and you’re happy to let them pass until one in particular catches your attention. 

“Spencer?” 

He hums, like he’d been deep in his own proverbial river of thought. 

“What does pulchritude mean?” 

It takes him a split second to remember the bit of conversation from earlier to which you are referring, but when he does, he chuckles, running his hand over your messy hair. 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

And so you let it float away. 

[agustdtown1]

Prompt no. 15 with Taehyung

PAIRING: kim taehyung x fem!reader.

WC: 2.4k

WARNINGS: the prompt is in bold, age gap (th is 35 & reader is 25), smut 18+, unprotected sex, dom!taehyung, idk if it would actually count as degradation but I’m throwing it in there just in case, idk tae just likes to make fun of reader and how desperate she is for him 🤷🏻‍♀️, doggy, chocking, slight clit slapping, a bit of masturbation (on readers end), sir kink, begging and a whole lotta petnames; btw this is not proofread.

A/N: thank you for your request, i hope you like it! I enjoyed writing this one sm.

prompt list | event masterlist | general masterlist

Unapproachable, stoic, cold-hearted and undeniably handsome, that’s what Kim Taehyung was. A man of many qualities and few flaws, one that could make any woman —or man, for that matter— weak in the knees with a single glance. His elegant mannerisms often drew people’s attention towards him, making it impossible to avoid unwanted social interactions wherever he went. Taehyung didn’t like the undivided attention he has gained over the years, which in retrospect he should have known it was going to be a given after building a successful empire in the entertainment industry. Nonetheless, the man didn’t like being the center of attention most of the time.

Luckily for him, there were times when his solemn demeanor would make people think twice before trying to talk to him, and rightfully so, for every single attempt to start a conversation with him was quickly shut down with a stern gaze and a grimace that —according to the man himself— resembled a grin. His cold attitude, however, was exactly what drew you in.

The first time you met Kim Taehyung you couldn’t believe a man like him was even real. He presented himself before you at the gala that you and your family attended every year. The man was tall enough to tower over you; his dark hair was combed nicely to leave his forehead free, giving him an elegant look; his eyes, oh his eyes, those dark brown orbs who stared you down with such a fierce gaze knocked the air out of you. But what really sealed the deal was the ghost of a smile taking place on his lips. It would be a lie to say you weren’t looking at him all night, it was quite hard not to in all honesty. Hence, you realized the tall man was not fond of smiling at others, but oddly enough he was willing to show you a grin, albeit a bit feeble, but a grin nonetheless.

“This is not your type of party.” It wasn’t a question or a guess; the dark-haired man spoke with such firmness that it made you doubt just how well you knew yourself. “It’s quite obvious.”

Taehyung didn’t show any sort of emotion on the outside, but deep inside he was trying to conceal an amused smile; he knew girls like you would kill to be anywhere else than in such a boring event. Like drinking an obscene amount of cheap vodka at a cramped bar, while your friends were trying their best to move to the beat of any trendy song at the moment; the night would undoubtedly end with you hooking up with a random guy.

Oh how he missed being young and free.

However, that was exactly what you didn’t want nor needed to do. After facing such a nasty break up, the last thing you wanted to do was mess around with just any guy that comes walking straight to you. A change of scenery is what you desperately needed, and maybe, just maybe, a man like Kim Taehyung would be the perfect remedy for that.

“I’m going to show you how a real man fucks.”

The idea of fucking a man that was ten years older than you was completely preposterous, but perhaps that’s exactly why you decided to follow through and act on your impulsive thoughts. It was stupid to believe you would be able to get in between the sheets with a man like Kim Taehyung; unrealistic, too good to be true. Therefore, the consequences that you were most likely going to face in the near future didn’t feel too serious for you to decline his offer to fuck you senseless. And with a faint fuck it, you started the memory of a night that would be too difficult to forget.

Taehyung’s hands were all over your body, caressing your skin as if it was the most delicate porcelain he’s ever touched. His lips were leaving burning kisses up and down your neck, stealing gasps whenever he used his teeth to place a harsh mark on your tender flesh. The sensations were too much to bear and he had barely done anything.

“I need more.” A small plea for the pleasure you were eagerly seeking. “Don’t tease me, please.”

“I wanted to take my sweet time with you.” He mentioned, pulling away from the crook of your neck. “But how can I say no to that when you ask so nicely?”

Without further ado, Taehyung aligned his bare length with your soaked entrance, slightly teasing you by coating his tip with your juices.

“Just put it in!” You whined, trying to guide his cock into your pussy, only to receive a harsh slap on your thigh.

“You’re in no position to tell me what to do, princess.” Kim retrieved slightly, clasping your neck with one of his big hands. “That attitude might have worked with the dumb guys you’ve fucked before, but I’m not like them. If you want something you better start acting right, otherwise you’ll get nothing.” His hot breath was falling against your face due to how close he was. “Am I clear?” You nodded dumbly, but that wasn’t enough for him. “I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes, you’re very clear.”

“Now, that’s a good girl.”

Taehyung didn’t wait for you to realize what was happening, before he slowly pushed his cock right into your drenched cunt, enjoying the warm feeling.

“Shit, you’re so tight, doll.” The man noted, already entranced by the way your walls were sucking him in. “You might not be able to take it all.”

A cry escaped from your mouth in a clear protest at what he was saying. You knew your body and your limits, and as big as Taehyung was —more than what you imagined, actually—, you were sure that you were able to take all of him. There was no need for going slow or being cautious with you, in fact, it was pointless to do so with the way you were desperately trying to get him closer to you.

“I will.” You assured him. “Don’t hold back, I can take it, I swear.” With a teasing smile you continued. “Weren’t you going to show me how a real man fucks?”

Hearing his own words coming from your mouth was like an awakening moment; you could see the switch in his demeanor, how his eyes darkened and his grip grew tighter around your waist.

“You better not be lying, doll.”

In a split of a second, Taehyung pulled out of your warm walls to flip you over and make you lay on your stomach.

“Ass up.” He ordered with a serious tone.

Kim didn’t waste a second longer before he reinserted himself inside your pussy. That magical feeling of your velvety walls wrapped around his cock was one he would never forget. The way you were, in fact, taking all of him so effortlessly was driving him crazy.

“Oh my fucking god.” You moaned, due to not only the change in position but also speed.

“This what you wanted, love? Me fucking you dumb, until your legs are shaking and the only thing on your mind is my damn name.” Taehyung was an experienced man, and along with experience came the knowledge of saying the right things to rile you up.

Even more than he already has.

“Yes, fuck. I want nothing more!”

Taehyung increased the pace of his thrusts, making you feel him ridiculously deep by the way he was pounding into you.

“Shit, just like that, don’t stop.” You cried out, fisting the sheets to ground yourself.

To your surprise, the response you got to your previous sentence was nothing more than a slap to your ass cheek, making you groan and jolt in your place.

“What was that for?”

“I already told you, darling.” He panted. “You’re no one to give me orders.”

His veiny hands were holding your hips furiously, digging his fingers in your soft flesh, and you knew for sure that there were going to be some marks showing in the morning. However, you couldn’t care any less at the moment, your only concern was getting that sweet release that was slowly approaching. By the way his cock was reaching all the right places, you knew that it wouldn’t take that long to finally get it, but you needed a bit more, just a little push.

One of your own hands drifted down to messily rub your clit in a rapid motion. Moans and whines were falling from your lips, muffled by the soft pillow. You could feel it, that sweet feeling of unraveling; an electrifying sensation running through your body to let you know your orgasm was approaching. Fingers were moving with haste, urgently touching your clit.

A deep chuckle echoed through the room, and before you could even react a much bigger hand grabbed your wrist and rudely pushed it away from your folds.

“You dumb little brat,” Taehyung sneered. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?” His hand slapped your clit a few times, stealing whines from your mouth. “It is clear for me that I need to teach you some manners.”

The tall man lowered himself enough for you to feel his hot chest covering your bare back; dangerous lips brushing the shell of your ear while his muscular arm made its way up to wrap itself loosely around your neck. “Come on, ask for it. Nicely.”

You just wanted to scream; the way he was fucking you, along with his words, was driving you crazy. Not only was it the fact that his cock was repeatedly hitting that sweet spot of yours due to the way Taehyung was still ramming into you, but also his husky voice was making wonders to you. The man as a whole was so intoxicating; corrupting your mind with his indecent behavior and lewd touching. But far from wanting to get out of his spell, you leaned into his warm chest, saying his name like a sinful prayer.

“Taehyung… I wa-want you to touch me… please.”

“Touching you is all I’ve been doing since I saw you in that tight dress, sweetheart.” He stated. “Isn’t this enough?”

His free hand was hovering over your swollen clit, which was almost crying for his fingers to run wild over it. So close yet so far from what you needed.

“No…” You sighed; arms giving up and legs starting to shake, a matter of time before you would have to desperately beg for your release.

“Tsk, so greedy.”

Taehyung wanted to prolong your suffering by running his fingers close enough to your clit, but he reckoned this encounter had been going on for longer than the time he had to spare. And so, instead of being the asshole who would laugh at your desperation, he busied his hand nested in between your thighs, rubbing circles on your clit with his skilled fingers; it was clear as day that the extra touching was making you sensitive, and he loved to have such an effect on you.

“Is this what you wanted?” He teased you, sporting a bright and mocking smile on his face that you, unfortunately, couldn’t see. “Being touched like this really turns you on, huh? You get satisfied with so little, so used to being barely taken care of to be ambitious and ask for something else than the bare minimum.”

If you weren’t sure that Kim Taehyung wasn’t like any other guy you have met before, the way he talked to you really cemented the idea. No man, or boy for that matter, has ever spoken to you in the way Taehyung did. Haughty, arrogant, conceited, those were just a few of the words you could use to describe the brown-eyed man at that precise moment. Acting so sure of himself and the pleasure he could —already did— provide you with. His words were a clear example of how full of himself Taehyung really was. Surprisingly enough, that was exactly what lured you into begging him to give you more.

An ego boost, if you will, but it would assure you a mind blowing orgasm if you kept acting like that.

“Oh fuck, I’m so close.” You moaned. “You’re fucking me so good, sir.”

That word, which was far from being foreign for the tall man, fueled the fire within his body.

You really knew how to play his game.

“Say it again.” Taehyung ordered.

“Sir…” You moaned. “Please let me cum.”

A long overdue plea. Kim acknowledged that your breaking point was near, he could tell by the way you were clenching on his cock, almost making it impossible for him to move

“Fuck.” He panted, tightening the grip on your neck, which was previously loose. “You really wan it, don’t you?”

You nodded vehemently, whining and squirming beneath his body.

“Go on then, make my cock all creamy, princess.”

It was an automatic response to his lewd words. Your body exploded in a plethora of emotions and sensations that it has never experienced before. Toes curling, legs trembling, mouth agape, with moans worthy of being the audio of a porno running free through the room. Your vision became blurry for a moment, head too heavy to keep it up; your face ended up being squished against the soft pillow, while your body tried to recover from such an intense orgasm.

Through the years, you gained a fair amount of knowledge about what your body liked when it came to sex, but the things Taehyung did and said to you opened your eyes to a new side of yourself that was unfairly hidden, due to the poor performance of your previous sexual partners. But as amazing as it was, there was a pinch of fear invading your mind and heart for the same reason. No one has been able to give you what Taehyung did, and there was a very high chance that you would never be in the same situation as you were right now; how will you survive in a world where Kim Taehyung wasn’t the man making you see stars with a single touch?

“Are you okay, princess?” His husky voice invaded your ears like a sweet melody. “Hey, look at me, pretty, come back to me… there you are.”

A ghost of a smile, a genuine one, was adorning his face, making you feel uneasy.

How can a man like him be real? Where has he been all my life?

“I hope you’re not tired yet, because we’re not done here.” His small smile turned into a full smirk.

You were worried about the days to come, when your only comfort would be replaying this night over and over again in your head, but maybe, just maybe, you didn’t need to think about that for now.

“You’re mine for the rest of the night, doll.”

Taglist 🏷️: @aphrwodite @r1r111 @cholychi @artificialsuicid @vsr4197

[daechwitatamic]

Of Ruin: Chapter 15 | KTH

(banner by @itaeewon)

Of Ruin (Masterpost)

Rating: NSFW - minors dni Genre: vampire!au magic!au royalty!au, s2l, slow burn, eventual smut, angst and fluff

Summary: Taehyung of House Rune, Prince of Infracticus has been cursed. You’re the human world’s leading curse-breaker. It should be simple. But unraveling the curse becomes the least of your problems in the face of a world on the brink of civil war… and the love you start to feel for the prince.

A/N: Thank you endlessly to @sailoryooons for betaing!!! 💕

//

Section Warnings: angst, kissing, not explicit penetrative sex wc: 5k

All of you need sleep. You and Namjoon had pulled an all-nighter in his grandfather’s office last night, writing the countercurse. Taehyung had spent the night, as he does every night, fighting to get out of his rooms, trying to hunt. Probably Jimin slept, but he’d also just fought off at least four Score soldiers.

Taehyung offers to let you sleep in his quarters, but you decline, wanting to practice the countercurse in private, work on the phrasing, and sit alone with your decision.

When his face falls, you step closer, pressing your palm to his cheek. He closes his eyes, exhausted, and leans into the touch.

“You should sleep,” you tell him gently. “Do you want my help?”

He shakes his head, and you lower your hand.

“No,” he says. “The cabinet is about to meet to discuss this morning’s attack. I imagine… Seokjin’s father will be arrested. Or, at least, an attempt will be made.”

“Have you heard from them?” you ask, meaning Seokjin and Jungkook.

Taehyung shakes his head. “I’ll find out soon enough - either they’ll be listed among the dead soldiers, or they’ll have gotten away. I don’t know anything yet.”

“Let me come back tonight?” you ask. “I want to know what’s happening.”

You’re not sure why you feel so tentative about it, after everything you’ve gone through together. You know by now that he wants you there. But it still feels, in your bones, like you’re stepping into a role that doesn’t belong to you, that you should not be allowed to claim.

“After supper?” he suggests. “Will that give you enough time?”

You shrug. “I would certainly hope so.”

You spend the rest of the day in your own rooms; Namjoon paces, anxious over Satuel.

“I think she’ll be okay,” you try to reassure him. “Taehyung’s a strong healer. Her speaking to us was a good sign.”

After a while, you rise and go to take a shower. You have dried vampire blood caked on your hands.

—

You go to Taehyung’s rooms earlier than planned. You meant to wait for him to summon you, but you are - like Namjoon - itching to find out if there’s news about Satuel, news about Seokjin, news about the attack. You’re itching to let the prince wrap his arms around you, to find comfort from the horrors you’d faced together only hours ago.

You’re surprised when Namjoon waves you off, surprised again when Dansoo agrees to escort you to the prince’s wing without an invitation.

Things are changing around here, you realize. People are starting to treat you like you belong in the prince’s rooms, like it’s natural for you to be there instead of in your own space.

When his personal guards open the door to let you in, you expect to find Taehyung on one of the couches, long legs stretched before him. Instead, his front room is empty. You continue on, calling his name, peering into the bedroom where you’d slept after your first night - and morning - together.

It’s empty as well.

You find him in what looks like an office, tall bookshelves flanking a floor-to-ceiling window that looks out over the sea. Taehyung stands with his back to you, head bowed, one hand played flat on the wood of the desk at the center of the room, his other hand buried in his hair.

“Taehyung?” you say quietly, taking a single step into the silent room.

He doesn’t turn. His shoulders shake. In the quiet, you can hear him take a shuddering breath.

“Tae?” you venture. You’re scared, suddenly. Did Satuel not make it? Seokjin, or Jungkook? Has Taehyung’s plan fallen apart before it could even begin?

When he turns, his eyes are red-rimmed and jet-black.

“What’s wrong?” you ask in a whisper. You’re so scared of the answer you can barely speak.

“I can’t do this,” he tells you, hoarse, almost sounding like his cursed self.

You step forward slowly, regarding him. “Which part?” you ask.

He shakes his head, chest jumping as he struggles to control his breathing. “Any of it. All of it. I’m not… I’m not smart enough for this, I’m not capable enough - I thought I could just wipe out hundreds of thousands of years of my people’s way of ruling and just… make my own?”

He starts pacing, and you watch him, worry starting to churn behind your belly button.

“Your plan is good,” you say firmly. “It’s good, Taehyung, and it’s important.”

“What if it fails?” he asks you, his voice breaking like shattered glass, littering the carpet between you. “What if I take power from my father, rip down tradition, and it just leads to more killing, more centuries of war? What if all I accomplish is the ruination of my house?”

“Then we try again,” you say, overcome by the urge to sweep up his fractured pieces and cup them in your bleeding hands. “If the first try fails, we step back and figure out a new way forward. That’s what you’re forgetting, Taehyung - you’re not alone. You’re not doing this on your own.”

He looks at you, unchanged, unconvinced.

“You want something better for everybody - something more fair, something that keeps your father’s actions from ever happening again. You’re willing to focus on what’s right, not what’s best for you… and people will see that. People will support you. If you’re forced to try another way, you’ll have the other houses behind you.”

“And if I succeed?” he counters, his expression hollow, his voice shaking. “I promised everyone justice. What if, for my father… justice means death?”

“You’ll be King by then,” you whisper. “Can’t you make sure that doesn’t happen?”

“That’s what I’m fighting against!” he shouts, a fist slamming the desk beside him before coming to cover his mouth. He bends around it, caving in with grief. Your hands itch to reach for him, to pull him close, to soothe his hurts. “If I am being fair, if I am being good, and right, and all that other bullshit you just told me I stand for - wouldn’t I let him face the justice he deserves?”

You don’t answer this. You don’t think you should.

He lowers his fist, meets your eyes again. Tears leak gently over his cheekbones, and you feel yourself welling up in response.

“I know what he did was terrible,” Taehyung whispers, still hoarse. “But he’s my father, and I love him. How can I be the one demanding he go to trial? Even if he lives, how could he ever forgive me?”

You close the space between you, unsure if he’ll allow you to comfort him. To your surprise, he lets you wrap yourself around him, leans his head into the crook of your neck and continues to cry silently, his hands coming around you to cup your shoulder blades.

You run a hand down his back slowly, again and again, and say nothing. When his breaths shudder less, you lean and press a kiss to the back of his head.

“You gave him the chance,” you point out. “He chose to continue. He knows he was wrong. He’ll know you’re trying to be a good king, even if it makes you an imperfect son.”

He lets out a watery laugh. “I’ve always been an imperfect son. I came to peace with that hundreds of years ago.”

“It’s your choice to make,” you tell him gently. “I’ll support you either way.”

His laugh turns a little bitter, but he removes himself from your neck and sits tall again, still leaning against his desk, you standing between his legs.

“Seokjin won’t,” he says darkly. “If I pardoned him, showed him any mercy at all, I’d lose all the Scores. Other families, too. There’s only one right move if I want support. It just happens to suck.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, reaching up to smooth down his hair, to brush tear-tracks away with your thumbs. His eyes are still as black as tar; he’s too distraught to worry about changing them. “I’m sorry everything happened this way.”

He sighs, as if to say, me too.

You hold each other for a while longer. Outside the large window, night falls in full, leaving you two standing in the dim light of one little desk lamp.

“What happened today?” you ask finally.

He untangles himself from you and leads you by the hand back to his main room. You settle on one of the couches there, and he rubs at his face, as if he can scrub away the exhaustion, the hurt, the uncertainty.

“My father sent an Officer to arrest Seokjin’s father. They couldn’t find him - he wasn’t there. I haven’t heard from Seokjin, but he’s supposed to meet with me in a few days to discuss my next steps.”

“They won’t arrest him?”

“He’s not his father,” Taehyung says darkly. “Just like I’m not mine.”

“So then… what is the next step?”

He shakes his head, hating every second of this. “In the morning,” he says, voice full of defeat, “you’ll help me blackmail my father.”

Your brow furrows. “I thought you said he’d agree to transfer power.”

Taehyung grimaces. “He wants what I’m offering. I think he’ll agree. But in case he gives us a hard time… you’re my secret weapon.”

You give him a look. He answers it with a wry smile that doesn’t meet his eyes.

“You’re going to tell him you won’t counter the curse unless he gives up the crown.”

“Taehyung!” you gasp. “I can’t do that! You want me to say that to him? The King?”

“I do,” Taehyung says seriously. “It might be the only bargaining chip we have.”

“I can’t,” you whine. But you know you will. You’d do anything Taehyung asked you - as if that wasn’t already clear by the way you’re willing to toss away your mortal existence for his life.

“We don’t have another choice,” he says grimly.

You sit in silence for a little. You’re thinking about the gravity of what you’re about to do - to back the king of Infracticus into a corner, to essentially blackmail him into giving up the crown. Then, helping Taehyung dismantle the monarchy.

God.

“There’s something else,” Taehyung says, pulling you from your thoughts, his voice tight.

“Oh?”

He’s shy, suddenly, avoiding your gaze. “One of the things I’m promising… in exchange for the crown. Part of Father’s motivation when he choreographed all those attacks was… he’s worried about the bloodline. He’s worried I won’t marry, won’t carry on our name. So, in exchange for him transferring the crown to me, I’m promising him that I’ll marry.”

Your heart doesn’t drop to your feet; rather, it dissipates into nothing, leaving you a shell full of unmoving blood. You stare at him, unable to make a peep.

He shifts. “I don’t want you to feel stuck, or trapped, or pressured,” he says, finally peeking up at you. “And it’s important to me that you know that I’d want this even if we removed everything - the curse, my plan for after, all of it. But… I’d really like to walk in there tomorrow and promise him that someday, soon… I’ll marry you.”

“Taehyung,” you whisper, but he doesn’t say anything else, just opens a small, velvet jewelry case that looks about as old as he really is.

“If something changes later, we’ll deal with it,” he says, reading your mind. “But I’ve been alive for six hundred years and never wanted someone at my side the way I do with you.”

The ring is silver, the jewel a deep blue - Rune house colors. You reach for it with shaking hands and then stop, looking up at him.

“I -” you stutter, “I can’t - I don’t deserve this. I’m -”

“If you say you’re nothing to me again, I swear -” he threatens, mouth pulling into a frown.

Your shaking fingertips trace the jewel. “Are you sure?” you ask him, hushed, afraid of his answer.

“If you aren’t with me,” he says seriously, “then I don’t even want to see the other side of this.”

“Okay,” you say, meeting his eyes, hands leaving the velvet box and reaching for his hands instead, needing to be closer, needing to feel him. You feel breathless, dizzy, out of body. It’s like someone else is pushing the words out of you when you breathe, “If you’re sure, then… yes. Yes.”

He kisses you, deep, a hand lingering near your jaw, reverent. “My love. My venefici,” he whispers, kissing you between each title. “My Queen.”

You shoot him a wry smile. “Not yet,” you say.

You spend the night in the prince’s bed. When the clock ticks into tomorrow and the beast curls its lip at you, you kiss him on the nose, call him by his name, and tell him, “Ask nicely.” When he’s done, tongue pressing against the tender wound he’d made on your throat, he wraps you in his arms to sleep.

—

King Sunjae seems to know that his son is up to something. As soon as he enters the room - the same small place you’d tried the previous, failing counter-curses - his eyes are narrowed on you and Taehyung, expression cloudy.

“You requested an audience?” he asks, mock-politely, a sneer all over the words.

“I did,” Taehyung says evenly, his palms pressed flat to the tabletop. You know he’s nervous, know he spent most of the morning practicing with you, rehearsing what he wanted to say. “I came to make a deal with you.”

“A deal,” the King repeats coldly. “I thought we already had a deal.”

“You broke it,” Taehyung says flatly, no room for argument. “I consider it null and void.”

The King lets out a sarcastic whiff of a laugh. “And yet you’ve come to make another.”

Taehyung shifts beside you, his own tone growing chillier. “Not without insurance.”

King Sunjae’s eyes narrow again. “Explain yourself,” he says, a command.

“I’m offering you the same promises I made last time,” Taehyung says, just like you’d practiced together. “A marriage - eventually, an heir.”

The King scoffs, coming very close to rolling his eyes. “You strung me along with that little lie for a year, Taehyung.”

“I’ll let you set the date,” Taehyung counters, and you thrill a little watching the King stiffen as he starts to put the pieces together. “We’ll wed as soon as you want us to.”

The King’s eyes flash to your hands, alighting on the deep blue jewel adorning your finger. You smile beatifically at him. He has no idea how much you’re about to piss him off.

The King’s eyes flash back to Taehyung. “And in exchange?” he bites, as if he already knows, can already intuit that this is a deal not in his favor.

“The crown,” Taehyung says coolly, and you’re filled with pride so strong you want to reach for him, but you clench your hands into fists at your side instead. “You’ll transfer power to me now, and my Queen and I will take over ruling - effective immediately.”

The King stares at him, incredulous, clearly calculating. You watch it all over his face as he tries to find the catch - it’s like offering a fish in exchange for a house. He knows Taehyung’s not stupid enough to walk in here with that bad of a suggestion without, as he’d said minutes ago, some kind of insurance - and he’s trying to figure out what it is.

“If you agree,” you say, trying to match Taehyung’s cold tone, the way you’d practiced in his rooms, “then we’ll set a date for Prince Taehyung’s coronation and begin the preparations.”

King Sunjae sneers. “And if I don’t agree?”

You shrug. “Then I won’t counter his curse.” Insurance.

For a second, you think he’s going to attack you. Taehyung must, too, because he pulls you away from the table, just behind him.

King Sunjae manages to control himself, letting out a hissing breath between his teeth. Jaw still clenched, he manages, “Then I’ll hire someone else.”

“Good luck,” you say, though it’s harder to sound tough now that Taehyung’s tugged you behind him. “You might have trouble finding someone else willing to end their life to save his.”

The King isn’t stupid. He’s lived in the magical world for centuries longer than you have. He knows what you’re saying. He knows what it means.

His face darkens. The three of you are silent for a long time, Taehyung’s hand still protectively wrapped around your forearm, his eyes on his father’s.

The King must know he’s got no move. Taehyung has him in checkmate.

“Let me speak to your mother first,” he says. It’s a request, and a command, and, somehow, an admittance of defeat.

“I’m glad you’ve seen reason,” Taehyung says stonily.

The King stares at him, long and hard. Nervously, you shift behind Taehyung, the King’s glare coming in and out of view.

“And what will become of me after?” the King asks. “My spies tell me you’ve been running around using words like justice. Will I be facing justice, my son?”

The words land like knives. You remember Taehyung last night, mourning his father’s life, mourning their relationship.

“You will,” Taehyung says steadily. “And so will I.”

The King closes his eyes, just like Taehyung does when he has heard something he hates. Like father, like son. “Go,” he says, flapping a hand towards the door. “Go, you fool, and I don’t want to see you again until I call for you.”

—

When his father does send for him, Taehyung convinces you to stay behind.

He feels like a teenager again when he goes to his parents’ wing, ready to be scolded. He wishes he had brought you, despite the danger, just because having you at his side helps ground him, makes him braver.

They don’t speak to him when he arrives, just watch him with unblinking eyes and matching frowns.

“This would have happened eventually,” Taehyung says, by way of greeting. “It’s just sooner.”

Neither of them respond to this.

They sit around a large table, and stiffly, formally discuss the specifics. The coronation ceremony will take place in a week, to make time to prepare for celebrations. The King and Queen will send a joint statement tomorrow, announcing the news. To the public, this will be a planned and welcomed decision.

“When will she cure you?” the Queen asks, a bit of a bite on ‘she’.

“As soon as the crown is on my head,” Taehyung bites back.

“And the wedding?” The King asks, eyes narrowed.

Taehyung shrinks a little. “I’d like to give her time to… heal, and adjust, after turning. So… after?”

His parents look at each other, a silent conversation between partners of hundreds of years.

“As soon as she’s able, we’ll all meet together to discuss the timeline,” the Queen says finally.

Taehyung hates how much this feels like bargaining, how much it feels like asking permission.

Soon, though, he reminds himself, it won’t matter what they decide. Once the crown is his, he can do what he wants.

It’s not as comforting as he’d like.

“I want you to understand something,” Taehyung says, as it becomes clear that everything that needs to be decided now has been handled. His parents look back at him, disinterested.

Taehyung wonders if a day will ever come where they forgive him.

“When I asked you why, a year ago,” he says, pressing forward, looking at his father, “you said it was for us. For the Runes. I want you to understand that I’m doing this for our house, too.”

“Destroying it?” the King clarifies sarcastically.

“Stabilizing it,” Taehyung counters hotly. “Making it stand for something. Making sure all of us, all of Infracticus, don’t turn back into the thing we left behind.”

“So noble,” the King scoffs.

“We’ll be better for this,” Taehyung says. He hopes it’s a promise he can keep. “All of us.”

—

You go home.

This time, with permission. This time, with Namjoon.

This time, knowing you’ll be right back.

You have to go - you have things to handle: a job to quit, an apartment lease to break, belongings to sell or donate.

You work everything out with Taehyung the day before you go. While he’s helping his mother plan a coronation ceremony, you’ll be emptying years of belongings into garbage bags.

“Where will I stay when I come back?” you’d asked Taehyung, one sleepy morning, as you lay between his arms, your mind skipping ahead to plan your time above.

“Where do you want to stay?” he’d asked, his voice like honey, seeping over you just as slow and sweet.

“In a sea-side house with a turret,” you’d replied, and he’d giggled, pulling you close, remembering this joke of yours.

“Considering the ring…” he’d said, when he let you go again. “It would be appropriate to give you your own wing in the palace, for now.”

When you’d opened your mouth, he’d cut you off. “Don’t tell me you don’t deserve it. Maybe I just want my venefici close.”

You’ve gotten used to hearing the term as an honored position, and not a wound.

So now you’re here, in your old apartment, deciding what few things are worth bringing back to the palace. Namjoon, as far as you know, is just getting a few days off - time to see his family, his friends. He’ll return to Infracticus with you before the coronation.

You miss Infracticus the whole time you’re gone. You miss the ancient, mysterious palace corridors. You miss the roaring ocean and the amarisca. You miss the impossibly purple sky.

You miss Taehyung’s voice, his hands, his mouth. You miss his smile, his laugh, his heavy gaze.

You even miss Satuel and Dansoo.

You cave on the second night and ask Namjoon if he wants to get a beer.

“Sorry, with my family,” he sends you back. He follows it quickly with, “you’ll be back in no time”.

Not soon enough, you think.

—

Your return to Infracticus is a jarring experience, a stark opposite from the first time you’d passed through the Ostium.

Then, it had been in the dead of night, sneaking in under heavy cloaks.

This time, you and Namjoon are greeted warmly, brought into sparkling sunlight, where a coach waits.

“Welcome, sperasa,” the Ostium attendant says, and you look at Namjoon with wide eyes.

“What?” he asks, as you climb into the coach. “What’s wrong? What did she call you?”

“Betrothed,” you tell him, eyes still wide.

The coach takes you to the palace’s front entrance. You’ve never come in or out of the palace this way before, and it’s unnerving. You feel like a spectacle, but Taehyung greets you in the majestic, open atrium. He sweeps you into his arms, kisses your head, doesn’t seem to care that there are members of the court families milling about.

“I suppose I’m not a secret anymore,” you murmur.

“No, my love,” he says, smiling down at you. “You’re not the human here to break my curse. You’re the Highest, here to marry her hunter.”

“Cheesy,” you complain, but you’re smiling, your cheeks hot.

“And true,” he says, looking at you sideways.

He brings you to your wing - your wing - of the palace, eager to show it off. Namjoon tags along, smiling openly, out of curiosity.

“You might as well get used to them,” Taehyung points out as he leads you up the staircase towards your new set of golden doors. “After you turn, these are the rooms you’ll be recovering in.”

A shiver runs through you, equal parts thrill and terror.

—

Taehyung grew up knowing he’d be king someday. As a small boy, he’d been taught to conduct himself as a prince. As a young man, he’d been taught to think of the greater good, to be fair, to be wise.

Two out of three, he figured, wasn’t bad.

He’d imagined his coronation thousands of times. He’d imagined whose faces he’d see in the crowd, the music they’d play, what they’d eat, what he’d wear.

He’d never once imagined that he’d wake up, his final morning as Prince of Infracticus, to a smile on his lover’s face. Yet here you are, smiling at him, reaching up to cup his cheek as you kiss him gently.

“Maiesti,” you whisper reverently, a slight tremble to your voice. You say it again when he presses your knees wide, sinks himself deep inside you, rocks against the heat he finds there. Maiesti, you say, but it’s his name you gasp when you come around him, his name you breathe when he pierces the skin above your collarbone, watching the hollow space there fill with crimson.

He knew he’d have a team come make a fuss over his appearance - setting his hair just so, holding up top after top to his chest before pulling them away in search of another. He’d never imagined he’d spend that whole time wishing you were still in the room with him, giggling at the worst options, catching his eye in the mirror.

“Bring my sperasa to my rooms as soon as she’s ready,” he tells his staff. “I want her with me.”

When you appear in his doorway, it takes his breath away. How they’ve done you up, the gown they’ve draped you in - you could pass for Infracti. You could pass for a Queen.

He almost ruins the whole thing by throwing himself at you.

He’d imagined the crowd hundreds of times - all the court families in place. He’d never imagined how he’d heave in relief to see the Scores in attendance, Seokjin at the front, as he belongs. The throne room is full to the brim with Infracti from all the influential families dressed in finery.

His parents sit in their thrones at the front of the room, waiting for him to approach. He’d never imagined that on the day of his coronation their gazes on him as he approached them would feel chilling rather than proud. And yet.

He’d never imagined that the thing that calmed him might be a witch’s hand slipping into his as he walks to the front of the room.

You walk slowly, hand in hand, up the center of the room. Taehyung can feel your pulse slamming in your palm, can hear your heart screaming in fear, can smell your nerves. He gives your hand a squeeze. He’s not sure what’s scaring you most - the crowd of monsters, everyone’s attention on you, or what’s going to happen at the other end of the room. But he’s here- he’s here, and he won’t let anyone touch you.

They’d used you as a cover - to distract from the untraditional transfer of power, they’d announced the engagement. To the court families, it looked like Taehyung was taking power early in conjunction with his nuptials, accepting the crown early to start his rule with his new Queen. It was a good lie. Hardly a lie at all.

Taehyung had imagined his coronation hundreds of times. He’d always imagined this walk alone.

It’s so much better this way.

At the front of the room, he turns to face his people. You step to the side, and Satuel comes to flank you, as planned. Taehyung knows Jimin is nearby too, just in case.

One of the Elders runs the ceremony, standing at a podium to read ancient Infracti out of a book the size of a toy poodle, its yellowed pages flaking. Taehyung tunes it out, floating pleasantly as his eyes skim the crowd. He spies Jimin and Jungkook, and his eyes catch on many of his father’s cabinet members. He wonders absently if any of them will be in his cabinet, or if he should start from scratch.

Eventually, the crown is placed on a dais. He turns and places a hand on it, the cool metal spikes poking into the skin of his palm. His father rises and comes to face him, placing his own meaty hand on the crown.

His father’s black eyes bore into him, and Taehyung wants to wither.

I’m sorry, he wants to say.

You did this to yourself, he wants to point out.

I gave you the chance to stop.

I’m going to do a better job than you.

None of it matters. The Elder is saying the archaic words, Taehyung’s father hates him, and time ticks on.

The crown is lifted, placed carefully on Taehyung’s head. It’s cold and heavy and he can’t wait to take it off again, but he can’t think about that right now. The Elder is speaking, declaring, “Taehyung of Rune, King of Infracticus,” and it feels like the whole fucking room is holding its breath.

This is the moment. His people will either accept or reject him.

In the front row, Seokjin slides to his knees and bows.

The Scores follow. Then the Cleaves. Then, Taehyung’s own house, the Runes. The other houses fall one by one until the only eyes still on Taehyung are the Elder’s, his parents’, and yours.

You settle on your knees, that silver slip of a dress pooling around you, and you bow deeply.

“My King,” you say. “Maiesti.”

When everyone has risen, Taehyung faces his people. He takes one last, desperate look at you. He steels himself, and calls for the arrest of his father.

Then, he leaves his people to feast and revel, and leads you through a passageway behind the imposing thrones.

He will have no more nights as prince. He will have no more nights as a beast, either.

You’ll break his curse tonight.

Through the narrow, stone passageway, he leads you by the hand.

He leads you to your death. <- Prev |

thanks for reading :)

[surfinminho]

6:00 PM

wc: 1.3K

Warnings: age gap, reader is older, fem bodied, humiliation, panty stealing, perversion, masterbation (m), spit, sub!felix, overstimulation, unprotected sex, keep in mind reader is like 15 years older with a kid though it isn’t rlly mentioned

He could get you fired, you’re his professor and he’s just one of your many students.

You were the talk around campus for a while. He can see why though. I mean, you were pretty, has a nice figure, smart, Felix could go on for hours about you.

You on the other hand, seemed to pay him no mind. He kinda got upset about it multiple times. Not noticing his wandering eyes on you or staying after class just to spend a few more seconds with you, pathetic attempts he knows.

As time went by, finals week came closer. And Felix isn’t going to lie but, he was going to fail. Environmental science wasn’t his strongest subject. But you’re here! And you could help him.

He contemplated for a while if he should just get a tutor and suck it up, but apparently you had some concerns too. “Felix, can you come here please?” The bell had just rung, leaving a few laggers, and you sitting at your desk.

He packed his stuff up quickly before heading to your desk. “Hi miss” he gave you a small smile, sitting down on the nearest chair.

“Felix, your grades are much lower than last semester, it went down 12%.” You frowned, taking out a piece of paper and a pen, “See Felix, if you get less than a 90 on your final you’re going to fail the semester.”

He didn’t want to disappoint you with his terrible grades, he wanted to seem better than that.

“I can get a tutor?” you cut him off, writing something’s down on the piece of paper.

“I’m afraid with what little time we have left, getting a tutor isn’t enough. So, I’ll do it for you, personally.” you hand him the piece of paper nicely folded.

“Thank you, miss” as he gets ready to leave, you stop him once more.

“Since it’s also at my house, I’m not really allowed to do that so don’t tell anyone”

Felix nods his head and leaves, smiling to himself, thinking about all the possibilities of what could happen.

-

You let him in with a smile, telling him to go to your room and wait for you. As he was waiting, he looked around the room. It was white and chic with a hint of brown. Though, on your dresser, there was a picture of you and a younger girl, the girl was fairly young, probably 9 years old, give or take.

His train of thought is interrupted as you walk through the door,

“Let’s get started Felix.”

The next few hours were hell, it’s like the practice problems you handed him were impossible to do. It’s like any prior knowledge he had flew out the window. He could your sighs get louder every time he gets another question wrong, rubbing your temples.

“Felix, these are simple questions, you know what, I’ll be right back” you got up, leaving the door slightly ajar.

He looked around the room again, taking in everything once more. This time, a piece of fabric that he definitely didn’t notice caught his eye. It was sitting on the floor, by the bed frame. You could come back anytime, but what’s the harm in looking?

He got up, picking up the fabric, or lack there of. His face flushed, pink lace panties. He should put them down, it’s an invasion of your privacy, but he wasn’t thinking rationally. He pockets your underwear and sits back down, picking up his pencil and going back to work.

“How about we call it a night”

-

He doesn’t know what came over him, guilt was taking over his body as he looked at your underwear. He doesn’t know why he took it, he can barely look you in your face anymore. He wasn’t going to give it back though, it’s covered in his cum and spit. Your smell as worn off, surely he can sneak another pair?

As the days go by, he goes to your house at 6 pm, sharp. He’s never early or late. It’s routine at this point. He goes over to your place, does some practice questions, then he goes home and jerks off using your panties.

But today, when you answered the door, your were very giddy, smile reaching both ends of your face. The questions you given him were fairly easy, the answers were basically common sense.

“Miss, I finished this packet.” Felix said, slowly sliding the paper towards you.

You carefully look it over with a pen, tracing each answer with it, you slide it back to him with a smile. “Good, only 1 wrong!” You paused, getting up and walking to your dresser, “I think you deserve a reward, I mean those questions must’ve been so hard.

You sit down on your bed, calling him over.

“Miss, what’s this abo-“ he choked on his words as he watched you throw a pair of lace panties at him, almost identical to the ones he stole a week before.

“I know you took my underwear Felix, you’re not very slick” you frowned, pulling him closer by his thighs.

he stayed quiet, playing with his fingers in his lap.

“Felix, that was very disgusting of you, I offer you extra help and you take from me. Is that how you were going to make your move on me?” your tone was condescending, it made him want to die from embarrassment.

'No --- No, no, no, no, no --- I’m sorry, I don’t know wh-“ you pressed a finger to his lips, shoving two fingers into his mouth.

“Aw but baby, you do know. Tell me why you did it, I don’t like liars” you slowly removed your fingers from his mouth, wiping his spit on his cheek.

“I wanted to taste you..”

“Wanted to taste me?”

He hums, looking up at you, trying not to touch you.

“You’re a pathetic thing, could’ve just asked.” you mumbled, taking your index and middle finger, hooking it on the waistband of his pants, pulling it down along with his underwear.

“Show me what you do to them at home”

He didn’t reply, saving himself from any more embarrassment. He took his hand and spit in it before wrapping his hand around his cock. His body jolts at the feeling, back arching into the pleasure. He wraps your panties over his tip, rutting into his fist. The spit made the glide easier, making it so he could go faster. He closed his eyes, staccato moans leaving his plump lips, little ‘pleases’ coming out ever so often.

“Stop.”

His eyes shot open, stopping his movements while keeping his hand on his cock. He whined, blinking away tears, to look at you. When do you take off your pants?

“Ah, you’re so cute and well behaved, makes me wanna kiss you.”

“Can I? Uhm can I get a kiss?” He pouts

You shuffle over to him, knees on either side of his lap, slotting your lips against his. You titled your head to the side, grabbing his chin, trying to get more of him until you felt something wet seep in between your thighs so you look down and-

Oh.

“I’m sorry” he sputtered, still rutting against your thigh.

“Cumming just from me kissing you? Pathetic baby” you leaned down to press a kiss to his lips, shutting him up before lining his cock up and sinking down.

“I can’t- miss- mommy please, f-fuck!” Letting out a choked out sob, he could feel his cock drag against your soft, warm walls.

“Yes you can” You huffed, fucking yourself down onto his cock, his cum making the slide easy.

“Let- let me pull out, g’nna cum shit” he threw his head back, his moans reaching a crescendo as his thrusts became erratic, losing its rhythm.

“Just like that, good boy” you pulled him into another kiss, gripping his shirt to keep leverage. “Wanna breed me? Make me a mommy?” You said in between moans, meeting him halfway.

“Cumming!” You felt his release paint your walls, sure it’s not a lot but it triggered your own orgasm.

You climbed off him, using the discarded panties to clean him up.

“You better be prepared for the final.”

[yourpsychosomatic]

I'm from the Stayblr community and saw the Kinktober ask game... is it on currently? If it is, can has reader giving Felix oral? Just a question... >w<

whispers. yes, yes you can. ✨

edit: I accidentally posted this instead of saving as a heckin DRAFT I am so sorry. 😭 but I’ll be writing this soon!! (and probably posting in an edit to this ask, so keep watch) ❤️

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Fixations

Kinktober Prompt #15 — oral sex Felix (receiving) x reader MDNI

Warnings: oral m!receiving, pet names, a few cuss words

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

Today was lovely — the cool breeze flowing through multicolored leaves on the trees, ducks and geese alike honking as they swim around the river nearby. And it wasn’t as if today was special or drastically different than any other, just an ordinary autumn day.

Except for the fact that you and Felix were outside at a park, having an early dinner picnic and you were quite parched… but not thirsty for water.

He wasn’t entirely mindless of your fidgeting, but being that it was only about ten minutes into your day out, lounging on the soft blanket, he wasn’t so curious as to ask questions just yet.

It really wasn’t your fault….. not your fault that you kept thinking about his black skinny jeans, not your fault that the denim fabric bunched up just so around his crotch, not your fault that your eyes would dart over every time he shifted. God, it looked so smothered, like it was in the midst of asphyxiation… no, definitely not your fault.

He was simply eating the last of his sandwich when he noticed, again, your fidgeting. How you had only been taking small bites of your food and he had nearly finished before you — a feat in and of itself because he knew you loved to eat whatever he made for you. You were always the first one to finish, but not this time.

The only ‘bad’ part about it was that he caught on quickly to your moods — after all, that’s what sensitive boyfriends do, right?

“Alright, so are you gonna tell me what’s wrong, or are you gonna continue nibbling on your grapes like a baby bunny? What’s wrong, love?” He was frowning, pulling your chin up — and sadly — away from sight of his bulge so he could look you in the eye.

“What’s got you wound up, precious..”

Immediately you’re blushing, pet names have always been your kryptonite, chewing on your bottom lip and attempting to avoid eye contact as best as you can, one hand fiddling with the hem of your sweater.

“It’s nothing ‘lix, I’m just a little distracted is all-“

“Aaahhhh, nah nah, I’m not buying that.”

He scoots closer and you can see his pants shift, fold, bend. His crotch is literally r i g h t t h e r e. Your mouth waters and you attempt to swallow back the excessive spit, clearing your throat as you glance back up at him.

“I- ah- I’m….. distracted by your pants.”

Felix raises a brow and nearly smiles, giggling awkwardly as he tilts his head. “My pants?? What’s wrong with my pants? Are they too skinny?”

“Or… I guess… I mean…”

You weren’t very good with your words and Felix knew that, especially when it came to things like this - sexual things - so instead of answering again, you press your lips together, reaching forward to run your hand slowly up his thigh as his reaction changes. And now he was the one clearing his throat, glancing down at your hand as it smooths over the soft tent of his skinny jeans before both of you look back up at each other.

His eyes had darkened slightly, squinting at you as a slow smirk formed over those pretty pouted lips.

“Oh?? You wanted something different for dinner? Why didn’t you say so?—“

He was now grinning stupidly wide, reveling in how your cheeks had reddened even darker as he takes your hand and pulls you both up, giggling like a school girl as he practically drags you over to the car. Both of you stumble a bit over the scattered gravel parking lot, letting out slightly breathless laughs that finally breaks the ice. You bite the corner of your lip as he presses you against the door, leaning in to give your cheek a gentle play bite as you play with his fingers intertwined with yours.

“You want my dick so bad, don’t you, precious? ‘S’at why you’ve been staring at it the whole time we’ve been here??”

His voice had gone so low that it tickled your eardrum, causing you to shiver and squeeze your thighs together as he unlocked the car.

“Yes, babe, I wanna taste it. Want it more than our dinner.”

“Then let me be your main dish~”

He’d pulled the back passenger door open as you were talking, stepping backwards into the car and scooting across the seat as he tugs you with him. You were happy to follow, pulling the door shut and pushing him down on the seat, trapping him underneath you. A chuckle escapes his lips as you lean down to kiss along his neck, pepper them lightly across his jaw and finally press your mouths flush as your hands work, fumbling quickly to open his jeans.

He already looked so sinful with his hair fanning out messily on the seat, cheeks flushed showing off his freckles even more. Felix looked like the sweetest little cherub and it made you want to defile him all the more.

He cards his fingers through your hair at the nape of your neck, kisses growing ever so slowly more sloppy as you tug his pants down, shoving your hand into his underwear. Felix gasps and immediately a heavy groan is ripped out of his chest as your fingers grip tightly with the first tug on his length, already half hard from the thought of you sucking him off alone.

“Want your tongue, wanna feel your mouth, honey..” He was mumbling against your lips, not knowing where to put his hands as they grab at your clothes, your hair, even brushing over your chest. You hadn’t even started yet and already he was close to being such a mess for you, pliant in your hold. You pull back a little from your heated make out, licking your lips as you watch his eyes glaze over, lids fluttering, chest slightly erratic as he pants. Soft, short moans fall every time he breathes out and you bite down on your bottom lip a little harder, tilting your head as you work your hand up… and down… and up… and… down… slowly, ever so slowly.

“___, baby, please.” He croons your name and you can’t help but giggle at him, leaning down again to press a chaste kiss to his raw cherry lips before getting to work.

Felix was so gorgeous, and he was all yours.

You squirm back on the seat, pulling away to peel off your sweater and shirt with a short whine from him from the loss of friction. He was already reaching for it to quell his frustration.

“Oh, quit that, I’m right here you big baby~”

You snicker and swat his anxious hand away from his dick, leaning down again and stretching your tongue out to lick a fat stripe slowly up the bottom of it. That causes him to yelp and he reaches behind his head to grip the side of the door, the other hand twining back into your hair as you fist his cock again. You squeeze the base and keep the pressure on it for a little bit, staring down at it as the tip slowly grows an angry reddish purple. God, it looked so cute… you wondered if you had the money to buy a cock ring and decided to file that away for later, you’ll probably buy one when you both get home. It surely would come in handy and be a lovely addition to fun times like this.

Humming softly, you purse your lips and blow cool air over his tip, watching his hips shudder as he whines from the neglect, pulling at your hair gently, gingerly attempting to guide your head down.

“Mouth… your mouth.. please…”

You answer with a soft ‘hmph~’ in amusement, smirking up at him one last time as he’s looking down at you, lids half hooded and heavy with lust, lush lips parted with a soft ‘o’.

So you open your mouth and close just your lips around the tip, using the tip of your tongue to lap over his head with soft kitten licks. It was maddening for Felix, a weak yelp bursting out as he tugs on your hair, squeezing his eyes shut from all the teasing and tossing his head back on the seat.

“God damn it, ___.”

But with the last of your name on his tongue you push down and swallow his dick whole, pressing your own eyes shut as it knocks the back of your throat, gently stretching it. Felix gasps and groans your name loudly in surprise, both hands now fisting your hair as he quivers under your touch. His leg falls off of the seat and you settle between them, hollowing your cheeks out as best as you can before starting to nod your head.

And lord, did he taste so good.

You were so enamored by his length, his girth, the weight of it in your hand, on your tongue. You couldnt stand to not touch it, wanting it all the time like a bitch in heat — and who was Felix to deny you such a gift.

You moan around it and in turn Felix keens softly from the vibrations, no longer trying to prevent himself from bucking up into your face. He at least was holding back from being too forceful, but your inner self just giggles at his intense responses as you use your palms to press his hips down on the back seat.

Wanting to feel a little more of his skin, you pull Felix’s pants and boxers down just a bit more, sliding your hands over his bare hips, smoothing your thumbs through the dips on either side of his cock as you continue to suck all the precum and spit down your throat. You experiment a little and dig your nails into his hips, eliciting a squeak and jerk of his hips into your face so hard you almost cough, nose wrinkling as you bear with it and force a moan to get through the awkward feeling — you do NOT want to stop sucking. But you’ll definitely keep on using your nails to give him that extra tingle.

Felix starts to pant heavier than usual, moans turning into groans into grunts and you gradually let him guide your head down, controlling the speed of his hips with your hands and in turn giving him that delicious scrape of your nails as they meander back towards his ass. Each time, his voice rises a little higher in pitch, his ruts stuttering, his dick leaking into your mouth.

His hands grip your hair tighter by the second as your tongue works around his shaft in short curves, suckling eagerly on his tip every time he pulls back just enough to catch it.

“Ah, fuck.. that’s it baby… just like that…”

Felix was nearly mumbling nonsense at this point, and sometimes his tongue would loll out of his mouth as his panting turned uneven, although you couldn’t really see it too well. Glancing up at him through your lashes wasn’t something you liked to do too often since it felt uncomfortable, so you just resigned to listening to his pretty little noises as you worked his dick with fervor.

As your jaw and lips were beginning to get sore, you opened your mouth a little bit more and let the lewder sounds spill out, slurping and humming as you used your tongue to your advantage. Drool dripped from the corners of your mouth as Felix whimpered from the pulse of your tongue against the bottom of his length — he could feel his boxers getting damp against his thighs which made him even more horny, fucking up into your throat faster as soon as the heat in his stomach started to rise. His bare ass was probably scratched up like a cat’s clawing post at this point, but he was loving every second of your nails burrowing into his skin.

Although you may have been feeling some discomfort from being in that position so long and the rut of his hips was definitely making his dick rub your throat raw, you’d be damned if you didn’t see this through, would definitely hate yourself for ruining his orgasm. And in fact, you desperately wanted to taste it.

“I-I-…. fuck, I’m-…. I need t-… baby~ b-baby—”

Felix stopped gripping your hair so tightly and seemed as if he wanted you off him, but you would not let that happen — you wanted to taste his come so much that you tightened your jaw again, pressing your lips as tight as you could around his girth and kept on going at the pace his hips went before he started quaking in your hold. You dig your nails into his ass and Felix keens, arms whipping back for his hands to scramble for purchase as the first wave of his orgasm hits him.

Your boyfriend squirms in your grip as you hold him down, sucking along his length gently as his come spurts down your throat. You attempt to swallow it all every time his hips buck, wave after wave enveloping his lungs and releasing onto your tongue, and so you relax your mouth around him in exchange for lapping at the remnants dripping down his length. Slowing down with each nod of your head and gently pressing your lips against his pelvis at the base as you stop, nuzzling your nose into his pubic bone. You liked it here, loved being nestled so close to him, as his dick slowly softened. Even down here he smelled nice, all those pheromones and musky scents mingling together in the back of your sinuses. Mmmm…

You might want to pull away before you wind up giving him another blowjob. After all, you were still at the park.

He’s still panting, but a lot less harsh now, one hand coming down to card haphazardly through your hair, the sifting somehow gentle even though you could tell he was shaking.

“Fuck. ___, why’d you do that, you didn’t have to swallow, y’know..”

Finally, you gingerly pull your mouth off him, licking your lips to catch any stray and put some moisture back into them before dabbing at your face with your long-sleeve, chuckling weakly. He sits up and leans on his hands, quirking a brow in your direction.

“It’s okay to tell me, sweetheart.”

“Well, I-…. I’ve never tasted all of you before, so I just… I wanted to try it.”

Felix furrows his brow and bursts out laughing before he pulls his boxers up, tucking his dick away and reaching over to pull you against his chest. You can’t help but grin wide, giggling softly and hugging his waist as he presses soft, weak kisses over your cheeks, sighing and pressing his forehead against yours as his eyes close.

You feel so warm in his embrace, soft smile still plastered to your face as you fiddle with the neck of his shirt. You could stay like this forever and you’d be totally fine with that. …. Although, sucking him off was great, you’d miss it— on second thought—

Felix hums and pulls back to look at you, reaching up to fix your hair and tucking a few strands behind your ear, mumbling as he leans in for another kiss.

“We need to clean up the picnic…. but as soon as we get back home, it’s my turn on you, got it?”

A surprised giggle slips out and you nod eagerly, scooting away to pull your shirt back on.

“Got it. But now I’m actually hungry.”

Cue his deep cackle.

[festivalsofmargot]

You Are a Memory {Sebastian Sallow x GN!Reader}

Introduction: END GAME SPOILERS!!! AGE 18+ SCENARIOS

Starts after Sebastian’s questline and goes until the two of you are in your 7th year, aged up to 18+. Sebastian has just killed his uncle, and it finally dawns on the two of you how far down the dark path you’ve gone. You aren’t good for one another, and it’s time you let each other go. 

Could be a standalone, but if you’d like some extra background on yours and Sebastian’s relationship, feel free to read these first: Pining in Potions Class, Pretty Thoughts, and Selfless. (I like to write a non house specific reader, but Gall of a Gryffindor can work too if any of you Gryffindors out there want that little extra).

Word Count: ~ 5,400 😬 whoopsies

Warnings: Kissing, Angst, Sex (first time making love, gender neutral so not crazy explicit smut level, characters are aged 18+)

Author’s Note:  Listen listen listen listen… it’s not that I don’t like you guys. I just wanna make you pretty cry a bit, okay? You and Seb have been too happy together in my short stories and I’m ready to be the drama and add a little spice. This is my first attempt at a sex scene and a gender neutral one at that. I’m happy with how it turned out, but I’ll keep pushing myself to write better. Enjoy everybody, hope you’re having a good day 😊

Songs (if interested, bonus songs because it’s a long one today, pop them on and join my sad vibes):

You Are a Memory - Message to Bears

In This Shirt - The Irrepressibles

Exit Music (For A Film) - Radiohead

September 15, 2017: Cassini - The Grand Finale - Sleeping At Last

Light - Sleeping At Last

Falling Colour - Vanbur

You finally left the room of requirement after having spent a good amount of your Saturday there. The magical beasts you saved were always excellent company, even in a time as dark as this. When Deek had excused himself for the night, it was then you realized you should probably get to bed yourself.

You silently cursed when you saw how dark and empty the halls were. It was difficult to keep track of time with the vivariums and Deek’s room ambience enchantments. No question you were well passed curfew. Though, a detention was the least of your worries at the moment.

You heard your name called from somewhere in the darkness. You gasped and turned quickly to see Sebastian pushing himself off the wall he was leaning against.

“Sebastian? What are you doing here?” The two of you hadn’t spoken since he ran from the cave. You hadn’t sought him out when you returned to the castle. You let him have his space, and heaven knows you needed it too.

“I needed to see you.” He said, not meeting your eyes.

“How long have you been waiting? I’m so sorry, if I had known -”

“It’s alright. I... needed the time to think about what I was going to say to you.”

Noticing the room of requirement’s door was still there, you pulled him back in with you. “Let’s talk in here.”

Sebastian’s eyes roamed the room. He would have been in awe at the beauty of it all. But the image of his dead uncle and the heartbroken look on Anne’s face took away any levity the room could have given him.

With Sebastian’s hand still in yours, you guided him to a nearby couch which had been your favorite spot aside from the beast vivariums, though you had a feeling it wouldn’t be any longer after your conversation that night. You sat and gently tugged at his hand for him to sit down with you.

Releasing your hand, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He looked down at the floor, and you waited for him to speak first. You didn’t want to rush him.

“How did things go so wrong?” He buried his face in his hands, his voice faltering. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to -” 

Hearing his distress, you placed your hand on his back, rubbing up and down.

He took a shaky breath to right himself. He then grabbed your hand that was rubbing his back and held it in his lap. He rubbed a thumb across your skin and stared at the lines that graced your palm. “We need to end this.”

Your breath hitched in your throat and tears stung at your eyes. You also knew the two of you were heading this direction, but to hear one of you actually say it out loud still broke something in you. “I know.” You whispered.

Sebastian shot a hand up to cover his eyes, desperately trying to stop tears of his own from falling. His shoulders began to shake with silent sobs.

You leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his waist, resting your cheek against his back. “I know.” You said again, still with no conviction. “I’m just as tempted by the dark arts as you are, Sebastian. If we stay together, I'm afraid we’ll cause even more damage.”

“I don’t want this.” He choked through his tears.

You held him tighter, the tears finally falling down your cheeks. You breathed in his scent once more, taking in everything you could of him before he would leave that night. “Neither do I.”

He gently tugged at your arms to get you to release him. He stood to his feet and made his way to leave. You knew you should let him go, but you jumped up from the couch and called for him just as he was going to open the door. “Sebastian!”

His fingers hovered over the handle, he turned slightly to look at you. He waited for you to continue, but you could only stare at him, eyes sparkling with tears. 

Digging his heels into the ground, he closed the distance between the two of you in only a few steps. He took your face in his hands and crashed his lips onto yours. You met him with just as much need and grabbed at the fabric covering his chest to keep him close. The both of you whimpered at the despair in your kiss, cheeks wet with tears. This was the end of it and there was no running from the pain.

Before you knew it, Sebastian left your embrace, speeding out of the room. Once the door shut behind him, you collapsed to the floor and allowed your sobs to consume you.

-

The remaining days of your fifth year went by the slowest. Each day you weren’t working with Professor Fig on your ancient magic and going through the keepers’ trials, you struggled to fill your time. Poppy was finally taking it easy after you had helped her with the centaurs. And Natty was still recovering from your fight with Harlow. Her mother had a closer eye on her than ever before, so spending time with her away from the castle wasn’t happening.

Every time you saw Sebastian, you did everything you could to keep your distance and avoid looking his way. At first you tried to sneak glances, but you found it hurt too much, and it only tempted you to run back into his arms. 

“Maybe we were too rash. Maybe we can be better together.” You envisioned yourself saying to him, but you knew it wouldn’t be true. It was made clear every time you left the castle and ran into poachers. They made it difficult to stray from your dark path. Seeing what they had done to so many animals, you were nowhere near done with the cruciatus curse. You weren’t good for Sebastian, you needed to accept that and let him heal. He could be better, and he would be.

-

You don’t know how you made it out alive against Rookwood and Ranrok, yet there you were. You shifted uncomfortably in your bed in the hospital wing of Hogwarts. Aside from some deep gashes that needed stitching, a ton of bruising, and a sprained ankle, you had managed to make it out all right. But Professor Fig hadn’t, and it weighed on you heavily.

Word spread fast about how you fought alongside the professors to defend the school.  All your friends had come to see you - well - almost all of them. Even some people you didn’t know very well came to check in. 

When Ominis came in to the hospital wing, you felt yourself go stiff. Along with leaving Sebastian behind, you left Ominis as well. You panicked at the thought of facing him. If you had never entered their lives, Sebastian might not have been able to dive so deep into the dark arts. He might have listened to his closest friend and the whole mess wouldn’t have happened.

“How are you?” Ominis asked as he pulled up a chair by your bedside.

“A little roughed up, I suppose. And you?” You were afraid to ask, because the conversation could so easily move towards Sebastian.

“I’m well thank you. And a little roughed up? From what I hear you sound like you belong in this hospital bed for the remainder of the year.”

You began to laugh but then hissed in pain, grabbing at your side. “Well, I can’t really disagree with you there, can I?”

He gave a soft chuckle, and then he fell quiet. The look on his face made it seem like he was debating his next words. “Look, I heard what happened between you and Sebastian.”

“Ominis, please -”

“Let me finish. I heard what happened between the two of you but I’m still here for you. That day you took on the cruciatus curse for him, I knew you’d proven yourself to be a true friend. I understand why the two of you are no longer speaking, and as much as I’m sure it hurts, I agree it’s what’s best for the both of you. Please know, you don’t have to be a stranger when it comes to me.”

It hit you how much you had missed Ominis as well. “Thank you.”

“I'm afraid I have to get going now, I snuck away from Sebastian to check in on you. I feel I’ve constantly had to talk him out of coming to visit the second he heard what happened.”

You nodded your head, “It’s best he doesn’t come. I think I’d fall out of this bed and crawl right into his arms if he had.”

“I thought the same.” He stood up from his chair. “Now get some rest. I can grab something for you from Honeydukes later.”

“Chocolate Frogs, I’m begging you.” Just as you were starting to cheer up, the thought of Hogsmeade reminded you of Rookwood, and what he had told you before he tried to kill you. “Ominis, wait. There’s something you and Sebastian need to know about Anne.”

-

Sebastian couldn’t stand it. Though he knew full well Ominis was right about how he shouldn’t go to visit you, it had gotten to a point where he wasn’t able to sleep without having seen how you were doing with his own eyes. 

Sneaking out of his dorm, he made his way to the hospital wing. He crept in, cloaked with the disillusionment spell and stood at the entrance. Eyes searching, it didn’t take long to spot you. You seemed to be the only student admitted.

He tiptoed over as not to wake you. When he reached you, his heart crumpled at the sight. A majority of your body was covered by the blanket, but from the skin he could see on your neck and face, you were riddled with bruising and stitches. Without thinking, he brushed his fingers along your cheek. 

You let out a soft moan and Sebastian yanked back his hand, panicked he had woken you. But you went quiet again, the only sound escaping you was your breathing. He should have listened to Ominis, seeing you again like that had pulled him right back in. He needed to get out of there.

Just as he as he turned to leave, you mumbled, “Sebastian?”

He looked back fearfully, thinking he was caught. But you were still sound asleep as you murmured his name. He ached to kneel before your bedside and grab your hand. He wanted to kiss it over and over, reassuring you saying, “I’m here. I’m here. Everything’s alright now.” But he couldn’t, and before he could fight himself on it any longer, he forced his feet to move one in front of the other until he was back in his dorm.

-

It was the beginning of your seventh year at Hogwarts when the Triwizard Tournament was announced to take place. It sounded like just the thing you needed to get through your last year.

You don’t know how you made it through your sixth year, it wasn’t nearly as eventful as your fifth had been. Though you were thankful everything seemed to be going a lot smoother in the world and your friends were safe, you were still uneasy with all the free time you had. You busied yourself up in the room of requirement if you weren’t with Poppy or Natty, and would stay just late enough to make it back right before curfew.

Though it was impossible to not see Sebastian, you did everything you could to minimize the chances. By the end of the year, you had found a good routine to get you through the rest of your time at Hogwarts. And adding this tournament on top of it could really help you thrive.

You fiddled with the folded up parchment that had your name written on it as you stood in the crowd around the Goblet of Fire. You were standing side by side with Natty who was also going to put her name in, the two of you waited for your turn to walk up. It was interesting watching all the Beauxbaton Academy and Durmstrang Institute students put their name in. They all looked so confident, and with such athletic builds, you couldn’t believe some of them were only 18 years old like you were.

After Natty placed her name in, you clapped along with everyone else and threw in a special holler just for her. Then it was your turn. As you were about to let the parchment fall in and be swallowed up by the flames, you looked out to the cheering crowd and locked eyes with Sebastian. Out of everyone around you, how did you manage to spot him? Dropping your name in, the crowd erupted in applause. You bowed your head and smiled as you left the circle.

When you returned to your position amongst the crowd, you tried to shake the image of his face from your mind. The way he was looking at you when you entered your name into the fire, it was almost as if he was crushed to see you do so. But you immediately dismissed the thought. It was dark in there and the only light source came from the Goblet, you couldn’t have possibly gotten a good read on his reaction. You two were no longer in each other’s lives and it’s been that way for a while. Get over yourself. He wouldn’t care what you did any more.

-

“You? But... why?” Was all Sebastian could ask his best friend. Ominis had just informed him he was the one taking you to The Yule Ball. Sebastian had known you were going with someone after overhearing you turn down a Durmstrang student, apologizing and explaining you already had a date. He had been in a dreadful mood ever since. But his sour mood turned perplexed at Ominis’ announcement.

“Honestly? Because I’m afraid of what you’d do to anyone else who did. Also, it looks good for a Gaunt to be going to the ball with the Hogwarts champion, if I’m not going to be the champion myself. Got my family off my back somewhat.”

Sebastian sighed. “Ominis, you didn’t need to trouble yourself. I’m fine now. We’re fine. We haven’t spoken in who knows how long. The two of you should go with people you -” have an interest in. He finished in his head, unable to say the words aloud without feeling sick.

Though he’d hate to admit it, Sebastian was filled with immense relief Ominis was the one taking you to the ball. He had seen the rather large amount of people who had approached you, and he wanted to shoo off each one of them. But he had no right, he needed to let you live your life. After all, it would have been highly hypocritical of him considering he had said yes to going with Amelie Dupont, the champion for Beauxbatons Academy.

-

Sebastian and Ominis waited side by side at the bottom of the stairs for their dates. He was hoping with every fiber in his body that you would walk down those stairs before Amelie did, because he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist watching you come down with undivided attention. And that would be horribly rude of him with his date at his arm already.

But of course, Amelie arrived first. He shouldn’t have expected any different knowing how you were. Always off doing something until the last minute.

With Amelie’s arm linked in his, all champions and their dates stood, lined in formation to enter the ballroom, except one.

“Ah Mr. Gaunt, here is your date now.”

Sebastian shot his gaze to the stairs at Professor Weasley’s words and went stiff. In that moment, he could have sworn his heart stopped. You were breathtaking. He had never seen you in such formal attire. For some reason, feeling foolish about it then, he had expected you to be dressed in some variation of the Hogwarts uniform. It had been all he’d seen you in for the passed year and a half.

“So sorry I’m late.” You called down as you descended the steps, watching your step as you did so as not to trip in your new fancy shoes. You were still breaking them in and weren’t the most confident. When you looked up your eyes met Sebastian’s, and the way he was looking at you had your insides twisting.

Sebastian swallowed thickly when you looked his way, and for a brief moment he let himself live in the fantasy that you were walking down the stairs to meet him. Time slowed down and memories began popping up all at once in his brain: the first time you met, the both of you trying to hide your laughter at Garreth’s nonsense in potions class, your first kiss in the library, all your sneaky pecks to his cheek, and even the times he’d rest his head on your lap as the two of you laid in the grass under the sun.

“Alright you two, join the line here.” His thoughts were interrupted at Professor’s Weasley’s voice. You took Ominis’ arm and got in the back of the line. Sebastian made himself face forward, awaiting further instruction.

“You look very handsome, Ominis.” He heard you whisper to his best friend.

“Thank you, I’m sure you look wonderful yourself.” You and Ominis cackled.

Walking out in front of everyone and doing the traditional first dance was all a blur. Sebastian hadn’t been able to compose himself after he saw you coming down the stairs.

Once the dance was over, he excused himself from Amelie and went to the washroom. He leaned against the sink, trying to steady his breathing. How could he have ever thought he was over you? You still meant as much to him then as you had when you parted ways in the room of requirement. He was extra thankful Ominis had been your date, if anyone else had been and he had to watch you link arms with them he didn’t think his heart could take it.

Once he returned to the ball, his eyes landed on you and Ominis on the dance floor. You were talking and laughing with him easily, seeming to not have a care in the world.

Do I have even the slightest effect on you anymore? Sebastian wondered as he watched from afar. He thought back to when you put your name in the Goblet of Fire. Your eyes had met his and he silently pleaded with you not to go through with it, people died in this tournament. Though he knew you were capable, having to watch you be put in harm’s way and he wouldn’t be able to help had him petrified. But you dropped it in and turned away, proud to have your name in the running. When your name was chosen from the Goblet, because of course it was, the terror and misery that went through him was paralyzing. Ominis had to help keep him steady the rest of that day.

He had a sick hope he made you hurt at least a little having come with Amelie. But you were the one on the dance floor, happy as can be, not the one trying to keep it together in the washroom like he had just been.

Sebastian went and found Amelie. He apologized and asked her for another dance.

The night went by decently enough for Sebastian. Amelie was beautiful and talkative, so when the two of them weren’t dancing, they were surrounded by a group of people asking her an abundance of questions. He was thankful she took the reins in conversation because he wasn’t in a socializing mood. Every now and then he took glances your way, not once did he catch your eye.

It was nearing the end of the night and Amelie had asked if he wanted to go back to the dance floor. He looked out and saw you and Ominis were back out there already.

“I - I apologize, I promised a friend a dance and it’s slipped my mind ‘til now.”

Amelie nodded with a smile and went back to speaking with a few Durmstrang students who were eager for her attention.

Before he knew it, he was making his way over to you and Ominis. When he reached the two of you on the dance floor, he held out a hand towards you.

Your laughing and dancing ceased.

“May I cut in?” Sebastian asked, gaze on you unflinching.

Your insides began buzzing with nerves. The thought of your first time interacting with Sebastian again through a dance was nearly too much to handle.

“Go ahead.” Ominis said with a smile as he released you, his approval taking you by surprise. “I need a rest anyhow.” Before you could protest, he was gone, leaving you and Sebastian alone.

You tentatively grabbed his hand and he pulled you into a dance. This being your first time speaking and touching after nearly two years, you didn’t think you would be able to look him in the eyes. But that was the only place you could look.

The two of you didn’t speak, it seemed you didn’t need to. Over the course of your dance, the two of you moved in closer, dismissing the official waltz stance you were supposed to be in. Your arms found their way around his shoulders and his around your waist. He leaned his head against yours as you slowly swayed from side to side.

You had fought so hard to distance yourself from him, and all it took was one dance to pull you back in. You never wanted to let go. Because as soon as you let go, he would be gone from your life again. The way he was holding onto you made you believe he had the same worry. You breathed in his scent like you used to do when you were this close. You hummed and pulled him closer, he still used the same cologne you loved.

Sebastian closed his eyes, imagining it was just the two of you in your own little world. He relished every second of this dance with you. Having you back in his arms felt right, like this was where you were always supposed to be.

“Excusez-moi? Sebastian, I’m getting tired. Would you like to walk me back to the dorms?” Amelie hiccupped, seeming to have had some drinks other students snuck in.

His eyes shot open and you tried to pull away quickly, but he grabbed your hand with a strong hold so you wouldn’t get too far. As the two of you looked at Amelie, you shook your hand from his grasp and cleared your throat. “Of course he would! Appreciate you letting me steal him away for a quick dance. Always great to catch up with an old friend. Goodnight, you two.”

Sebastian watched as you escaped to Ominis’ side, your vanishing warmth making him feel empty. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t leave things there and not speak to you for another year and a half. Dancing with you and holding you close would never have been enough to hold him over.

“You’ll have to guide me.” Amelie giggled, linking her arm in his. “This castle is a maze.”

“It can be. Would you excuse me one moment?” He slipped from Amelie’s grasp and ran to your side. He touched your elbow and your attention was back on him.

Your eyes widened at the gall Sebastian had to leave Amelie’s side. You already felt terrible she had to witness the two of you dancing the way you were, but truth be told she was probably too sozzled to notice. “Sebastian, you can’t just -”

“Meet me in the undercroft, I’ll be there shortly.”

“I can’t, I -” You gestured weakly to Ominis who was aware of everything that was happening.

“Please.” The rigor in his voice made it clear he wasn’t asking, then he returned to Amelie’s side.

You looked to Ominis, dumbstruck at Sebastian’s actions. “Ominis, you need to speak with him. Get him back to his senses.”

But Ominis only shook his head, “Meet with him.”

-

After all this time, you found yourself in the undercroft again. While you waited for Sebastian, you looked around, nostalgia washing over you. You found your way next to a wooden table covered in markings you hadn’t remembered seeing. Sebastian’s, Ominis’, and Anne’s names were all over, along with some carvings of stick figures. One of the carvings was a heart with yours and Sebastian’s initials. You rubbed your hand over your chest in hopes to slow down your rapid pulse. Then you ran your fingers over it.

His heart ached as he watched you. “I did that when you were recovering in the hospital wing. I was a mess.”

You startled slightly at his voice.

“A few weeks after we... well...” He looked down, kicking the dirt at his feet, wanting to change the subject. “We haven’t bumped into each other down here since fifth year, have we? How often do you come these days?” He asked, looking back up to you.

“Oh, I... I haven’t been in here since fifth year.”

“You haven’t?” A large part of him hurt at the thought of you leaving the undercroft behind.

You shook your head, eyes continuing to roam around the room. “No. This place was always yours, Ominis’, and Anne’s. Never mine.”

“I tried to make it yours too.”

You met his dispirited gaze, and you didn’t know how to respond. You turned away and began meandering around. “What is this about, Sebastian?” You hoped he would get on with it, this whole night had been torture. Watching him dance with Amelie and barely leave her side, you were thankful you had Ominis to lean on.

He took a step towards you. “I want to be in your life again.” He blurted.

Your heart picked up its pace again and you froze. It was exactly what you wanted to hear, but as much as you wanted to run and jump into his arms, you kept yourself in place. It wasn’t what was best for him.

“I want us again.” He said, taking another step towards you.

“Sebastian.” You sighed.

“Believe me when I say I’ve changed.” He began desperately. “I have no more temptations with the dark arts. Just ask Ominis! He’ll tell you how far I’ve come. I’m better now.”

You swallowed thickly in your throat. “But I’m not.” You confessed, barely above a whisper. You released a shaky breath and met his stare. “I am so proud to hear you’ve come far. Truly, I am. But I am still no good for you.” You glanced away from him then, unable to say it to his face. “I still use the unforgiveable curses... all the time.” You went tense at the admission, “These poachers Poppy and I come across, they conjure up something so monstrous in me, I -” You stopped yourself, not eager to explain further.

“I can help you.” He was by your side then. “I brought you into the dark arts. I can help get you out. My hatred for Ranrok’s loyalists? I was able to overcome that too.” He took your hand and pressed it to his chest. “You don’t know how far I’d go for this. I’m so in love with you it hurts. I can’t stand to see you and act like I don’t know you anymore.”

You shook your head at the overwhelming nature of it all, an unsteady exhale left your lips. The look on your face told him you were considering his words, and he couldn’t help but hold his breath. “Sebastian, if I pull you back to the dark arts, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“You won’t.” He brought the back of your hand to his lips. “I mean it when I say I’ve changed. Have a little confidence in me, will you?”

You bit your lip, and thought through everything that could go wrong if you went back to him. But him telling you he was in love with you had taken away all your resolve. All the warnings you usually chided yourself with were falling flat, not being at all effective like they used to be even just a moment ago. You nodded your head. “Okay.”

“Okay?” His eyes went wide, unable to believe it.

“Okay. And I love you too. So much, Sebastian.”

Sebastian picked you up and swung you in his arms, causing a boisterous laugh to spring out from inside you. He set you down and brought one hand up to cup your cheek, smashing his lips against yours. Being able to be with you like this again had him bursting at the seams with joy.

You kissed him back with just as much fervor. Your hands shot up to his hair and you gripped his locks between your fingers. He backed you up until you hit the wooden table you were looking at earlier. Without taking his lips off of yours he hoisted you up and positioned himself between your legs. He licked at your bottom lip and you opened your mouth partly for him to taste more of you. You let out a whimper, then you felt him press his front against yours. You gasped at the sudden feel of it and he made himself stop kissing you.

“I’m sorry.” He said breathlessly, forehead pressed to yours. “We don’t have to. I just couldn’t help myself. You just -” He buried his face into your neck and sighed, “Every time I see you, I go mad. I’ve missed you all this time and to finally have you here in my arms -”

You began to unbutton his shirt with delicate fingers. He pulled back and looked you into your eyes. 

“A - Are you sure?”

You smiled at him and nodded your head, continuing to undo his buttons. He helped you shakily yet eagerly. Then he began to help you undress, covering you in comforting kisses as he did so. It was nerve-racking, undressing in front of each other for the first time. But you weren’t with just anyone in that moment, you were with Sebastian, and he was with you. The two of you were hopeful for the future, but in that moment neither of you cared what happened from then on. The two of you were ready, and you wanted be each other’s first. 

You moved to the floor together, laying on your clothes, he covered your body with his. He leaned down to kiss you, his chest pressing against yours, and the feel of his skin was electrifying. You could feel his hardness pressed against you as you continued to hold each other, taking your time exploring one another in a way no one else had.

He shivered as you touched him, sighing your name against your lips. He dragged his fingers from your neck, lightly touching down your body, passed your waist, until he placed his hand between your thighs.

And right then, with the urgent need about to burst from both your cores, you knew there was no other place in the world you'd rather be. This ache you felt for each other left no room for doubt, this couldn’t have happened with anyone else, you were made for one another. You both were on the brink with each other’s touches, clueless how it could possibly feel better than it already had. 

“I’m ready.” You whimpered.

Sebastian, eyes clouded with desire, nodded his head. You both adjusted until you fit each other perfectly, starting slow to get the hang of it, and eventually losing yourselves in one another in a tangle of limbs. You covered each other with kisses, licks, and even some bites as the need to melt into each other grew more and more. In those moments together, as your breaths and moans echoed throughout the undercroft, the only temptation presenting itself was each other, and it was pure bliss.

[everydayyoulovemeless]

sequel to that no nut november post where instead it's destroy dick december?😭

FNV Companions (+Yes Man, Victor, and Benny) Responses to Destroy Dick December

➼ Word Count » 0.7k ➼ Warnings » MDNI ➼ Genre » NSFW, Romantic ➼ A/N » what a title

Boone outright refuses. He knows he's not gonna be successful and decides he's not even going to try. He's not even supportive about it. Anytime he sees you walk toward the bathroom he'll look at you with disgust and tell you to be smart about what you're gonna do because you both have to hit the road again soon, whether you're tired or not. 0/10, he's an awful partner to do this challenge with, don't even bother asking.

"Does it feel good anymore?"

Arcade will run stressed hands down his face. He made it all the way through November only for you to bring up something he finds to be way harder than the last. He'll try, but he's not making it anywhere past the tenth day. He likes being overstimulated, but damn. 3/10, he tries but doesn't quite have the stamina to pull it off.

"uh uh, I'm done, I have things I need to do around Freeside."

Raul hits you with that 1000-mile stare. Have you seen how decrepit he is? He has a difficult trying to get his thing up as it is, and you want to see him cum 31 times in one day? No, thank you. 2/10, he does actually try because he's curious about how far he can take himself, but it's nothing to write home about. He'll make it to day 3 if he's lucky.

"I'm over 200, boss... I don't think I can."

Cass is a champion at this. She can cum 31 times a day any day of the week. The biggest problem with her is that she makes sure to include you. You're knees are going to be weak and wobbly by the end of the month, it's her only goal since she passes the challenge with ease every year. 11/10, it's her favorite month by far.

"C'mon~ You can last longer than that!"

Veronica's quite determined to pass, even if she knows she's going to struggle once she hits the double digits. She'll try to mix all sorts of new things into your sex life to try and keep the challenge fresh and interesting. She'll find all sorts of sex toys and new positions to try in an attempt to keep you both at it for longer. 7/10, she makes it to day 15, but at least she's creative.

"Hear me out... I got us working vibrators!"

Yes Man makes it his life's mission to ensure you make it through the month. He'll lock you away in the Lucky 38 and personally make sure you get to the correct number every day. The day you told him you were interested in doing it was the day he pledged to himself that he'd actually get you through this challenge. He didn't do as well last month, but he'll make sure this time is different. He'll even tie you to the bed if he has to. 10/10, not only are you passing, but he will too!

"Aww, quite squirming! We've almost hit the number for today!"

Victor just shrugs and tells you that he thinks it'd be fun. He's not the horniest person alive, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't have stamina. He's fairly competitive and would like to win the challenge with you, but it relies heavily on how far you're willing to take it. 5/10, he could go for however long, but he'll stop going at it when you do.

"How're you holdin' up? Wanna go another round?"

Benny was really on board with it until the sixth day when he realized how exhausting this actually is. He's an old man, he's not built for this. But he wants to keep that pimp-like persona going for as long as he can. He'll be whimpering most nights from the overstimulation but he doesn't give up unless you specifically ask him about it. 8/10, he plays a very convincing performance, but how long can he push it?

"Sure, baby! We can go... again..."

[3terna15unshin3]

Touch

Who will be the first to break?

2704 words

warnings: !! 18+ !! smut, mutual masturbation, unprotected sex, very minimal editing (sorry)

—

a/n: Not requested but last time i posted smut y’all really liked it lmfao😭😭 I also felt sufficiently inspired to write a mutual masturbation tbsg blurb bc of tdab pt 2 by the iconic @lottiecrabie and also this fic that i love by @wrongendofurcigarette <33333 thank u for the inspo besties ok anyway hope u enjoy love u bye xo

(I wrote an entire 15 chapter fic of this universe! Read it here)

—

Matty was supposed to touch down on the tarmac around half nine. But as a symbol of his amazing luck, weather delays held him back and Este sat at home, impatiently waiting and jittering with anticipation. It was almost eleven in the evening and he still hadn’t arrived.

The months he’d been gone inched slowly by, and she only felt herself missing him more the closer his return date approached. Este started to feel like the floors of their home were colder in his absence. Like the lights were either too dim that she had to squint or too bright that it made her head throb. But sulking about it didn’t help—so she busied herself to make time go by faster.

She went on runs with Keiko. Wrote her weekly pieces twice as fast. Read double the amount of novels. Dipped her right hand into her knickers and thought about Matty. Sometimes alone, and sometimes with his virtual company; always hearing him whine about how much better Este felt around him in comparison to his fist. 

There was usually food ready to satisfy his hungry post-flight state, but because of the late hour, he insisted that Este shouldn’t bother. He didn’t want to waste time eating. If I get hungry then I’ll just eat her, thought Matty during his Uber home.

She was on the brink of falling asleep when Matty sent her a message to let her know that he would pull up at any second. Her body sprung up and ran to wait in the doorway before she could even process the words. There were butterflies pounding at her chest purely at the way the approaching headlights hit the pavement. She leaned on the doorframe and attempted to appear cool and collected. Then, an idea came to mind.

He pretty much tackled Este into an embrace when he finally walked up. They waddled into the house and breathed in each other’s scents. “Hi baby,” Matty whispered, pulling his face away to bring her lips to his. 

But, only millimetres before they could graze, Este inched away. She had on a mischievous smirk instead, letting Matty feel her hot breath on his skin as she exhaled.

Worry grew in his mind. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing at all, love,” Este shook her head, backing away even more to grab the bags his hands gripped to bring them to their bedroom. A smirk still sat on her lips as he cluelessly followed behind her confident steps. “I was just thinking about how long it’s been since you’ve touched me.”

His throat immediately dried up as he caught on to what she was doing. Este knew they were both desperate for one thing—but wanted him to prove how bad he wanted it.

“Yeah, fuck. It’s been ages. So let me,” Matty begged, reaching to caress her jaw. She was quick to dodge.

“But don’t you ever wonder how long we can make it? Before we break?” 

Este’s hips swayed back and forth purposefully as she took the claw clip that sat on her bedside table. In a few swift manoeuvres, she threw her dark hair up and secured it there. He watched her hands work meticulously and adored the way the shorter wavy pieces fell out of the clip and dangled next to her face. What he didn’t adore was that he could now see so much of her neck, and that she surely wouldn’t let him kiss it. 

“What are you doing?” He asked gingerly.

It was a rhetorical question. You know exactly what I’m doing, thought Este.

“Posing a question, ‘s all.” She answered, walking back around the bed to exit their room and head to the kitchen. Matty followed, of course.

Their feet padded down the stairs. “Don’t do this to me, E. Please,” he finally vocalised. 

It took everything in her to leave him hanging for the couple of seconds it took to fetch the bottle of red she’d been saving. She uncorked it and took a swig, repressing the want (more like need) to pounce onto him like a cat. 

“First one to touch loses.”

"Fine. Game on."

—

They brought the bottle of wine over to the sofa and took turns sipping it. To not be as tempted, they even sat on opposite ends. Out of reach. 

It wasn’t until then that Matty realised she was wearing a pair of his boxers as shorts. She had to roll over the waistband a couple of times to stop them from falling off her hips, but they still fit loosely. The way Este was scrunched up—clearly trying to make herself comfortable within the couch cushions—made the boxers tug lower. Matty peered at the skin low on her hips and made the assumption that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. God. If he yanked them down her thighs there would be nothing between him and her cunt.

He adjusted his pants, growing hard at the thought. Not a great way to play if he wanted to win.

Este was just as hot and bothered as him, but was just a bit better at hiding it. She stared at his hand that gripped the remote, flicking through the options on Netflix mindlessly (though he couldn’t care less about what was on the telly). The veins on the back of his hand flexed, and Este’s eyes watched. She then trailed them upwards on his arm and took note of how sculpted they were. Had they always been that big? she thought. Bloody hell. 

As if on perfect cue, Matty scooched himself lower, now almost fully on his back to relax. He threw an arm up and behind his head, hand cradling the back of his neck. The action flicked the bottom hem of his t-shirt upwards, forcing the ink on his skin to be exposed to the air. His hips rose and wiggled back and forth before he sealed the comfy action with a quick yawn. Of course he chose to do it while he saw Este’s head turned to him instead of the television, feeling the burn of her gaze. Any other day, she’d be on his lap in seconds.

Her breathing quickened. It was a bit embarrassing that something so simple could drive her insane—so she briefly used her hands to cover her reddening face. Holding out as a strategy clearly wasn’t going well. So, Este thought of what might speed things up.

“Gonna go for a wee. You know what wine does to me,” she suddenly announced, getting up and running to the toilet. Sure, she really did have to go. But once she finished, she decided to leave the boxers on the bathroom floor instead of pulling them back on.

Walking back into Matty’s line of sight, now only clothed with a black baby tee that hugged her torso and nothing on her bottom half, Este stopped in front of him to bend down and grab the bottle of wine that sat on the coffee table. She turned around to face him and locked her eyes with his as she took a swig. 

His mouth fell open for the few seconds he maintained the eye contact, but soon let his focus fall down her body, ultimately stopping at her bare pussy. He watched the space below her belly button expand and contract as she slowly breathed in and out. He even saw her thighs clench together. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, he thought. This is torture. 

“My eyes are up here,” commented Este playfully, breaking the trance he was clearly stuck in, and then returning to her corner of the sofa. 

“Fuck off,” Matty confidently responded with a scoff, though she could tell from the small smile of defeat on his face that she’d caught him off guard. “Didn’t have the balls to leave the shirt behind too, huh? Only my boxers?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Oh, do you want it gone? In that case—”

Matty then watched the small black article of clothing hit the floor, leaving Este completely nude & no more than a metre out of his reach. The same Este he hadn’t touched in nine weeks.

A smug look stared back at him as he thought of ways to one-up her. He couldn’t just copy and strip, like her. It had to be something more. So, he reached into his pants—still looking at her in the eye—pulling his cock out. Why beat around the bush? It was already red and hard, begging to be touched. And since he couldn’t touch her, he touched himself instead.

Este refused to look away. She couldn’t. Her brown eyes were locked onto his fist that tugged slowly up and down his length. Subconsciously, she swiped her bottom lip with her tongue. 

“Look at you, licking your lips. Wishing it was your mouth,” taunted Matty, “You don’t even want me to touch you. You want to touch me, baby. You love it when I fuck your face.”

He watched her writhe and sigh in dissatisfaction, seeing that Este knew he was right. Her hand inched down to her throbbing and exposed clit, finally daring to apply some pressure and whining in relief. 

“You’ve got quite the ego on yourself, Healy,” she squeaked, trying not to moan at her fingers circling her clit with haste. “You’ll be begging to cum in my mouth. Touch me first and maybe I’ll let you.”

Matty’s hips bucked upwards as he matched the speed of his pumps to that of Este’s hand against herself. “Fuck, you’re killing me,” he moaned, closing his eyes in pleasure and fantasy. 

Waiting until she saw his stare reconnect with hers, Este teased her fingertips south to her entrance. It was slick with wetness and desperate to be filled. Siding two fingers in, her jaw dropped open, and her hips rocked upwards to feel them deeper. A gasp escaped her lips. She let out a shaky groan when they bottomed out and yearned for them to be Matty’s instead.

“Mine don’t fill me up the way yours do.”

The sounds of both her fingers moving in and out of her cunt and him fucking his fist radiated throughout the room, overtaking whatever Netflix show Matty settled on. Both moving in sync.

“Come over here and sit on me, then. I can fuck you better than that,” he coerced.

Watching through his half-shut eyelids, he thought, I bet her wrist is tired. She’ll give in soon. But by then it was less of a thought and more of a prayer. 

“But that would mean you’d win,” Este pointed out the obvious. “And I can’t let that happen.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Turn to me, E. I need to see more of you,” commanded Matty. 

She listened and pivoted, spreading her thighs even further. She arched her back off of the sofa when her fingers grazed a certain spot, making her hold back what she knew would have been Matty’s name slipping past her lips. Her thumb rubbed furiously at her clit simultaneously. Surely he’ll touch me if I come, considered Este, chasing her high.

His lip was pinned between his teeth as he continued watching her. Her sopping pussy was in full view, making Matty think of what it felt like around him. The way she’d clench her walls just before he was about to cum and how it would always get him there faster. How easily he could make that familiar sensation a reality if he’d just give in.

Studying Este’s chest, where her other hand sat and fiddled with her hard nipples, Matty saw how quickly it heaved up and down. Her breaths were laboured. A layer of sweat glistened on her forehead and her gaze struggled to pin onto him. She’s close, he discovered.

“You’re almost there, darling. I know that arm of yours is tired. I’d have you cumming in seconds if you just come over and let me win,” he whispered desperately.

Este moaned at his words, speeding up her fingers. “So are you,” she pointed out, “and if you cum in your—fuck, Matty—if you cum in your hand, you won’t get to cum inside me.”

She made a good point. He sped up to match her, thrusting his hips up to meet his hand faster.

“Then come here and sit on me,” whined Matty, still not giving in, frustrating Este. Resentment for her silly game grew. If he wouldn’t let her win now, she had to do more. The visual wasn’t enough. She had to beg for it. Literally.

“Please, baby! I feel so fucking empty. I need you to fuck me now. Riding you won’t be enough. I need you to come over here and hold me down and fuck me—shit! Rail me so hard that we forget our own names. Need to feel you deeper than I ever have. Do whatever you want to me, please, Matty. I’ll do anything—”

Her voice pushed him over the edge. He didn't care about the stupid game anymore.

He wasn’t sure if he’d ever moved so fast in his life; climbing over to Este’s side of the sofa. She gasped when she felt Matty’s hands grip her hips to pull her closer, not giving her any time to adjust before sinking himself into her cunt.

They groaned in unison, the feeling they were chasing hit them even harder after the painstaking period of forbidden touch. She felt every inch of him against her walls, pressing a hand into her lower stomach to feel him there too.

“Is this what you wanted?” he intensely spat at her, beginning to pound into her with no avail.

Matty’s hips slammed together with hers over and over, lighting the fire in Este’s core. Her mind went hazy with pleasure and she struggled to even answer him. Her jaw was stuck agape and the only things he could hear out of her were frenzied and pornographic moans.

“Yes, fuck, yes. Don’t stop, I’m gonna cum,” she cried.

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut as he felt his climax approach too. But he couldn’t keep them shut for long, as he craved the sight of her beneath him, still tirelessly swiping at her clit. Her breasts bounced up and down at the force of Matty’s hips, which now buckled with a messy rhythm. The hair that stuck to her wet forehead was swiped away by a finger of his, getting it out of the way, needing the full view of Este’s face. 

“Cum for me, E. I thought about this every night when I was gone. Couldn’t hold back any longer—fuck—you win. This pussy is mine. So perfect for me,” Matty egged. 

Este let go and the notorious clench of her walls pushed him to do the same. The warmth deep inside her signalled that Matty had shot his hot seed into her, groaning and worshipping her name as he did. She reached up to yank on his curls and saw stars for a moment, the pure euphoria carrying her high in pleasure like she’d never seen before. He gave her exactly what she’d been needing, those nights alone. Nobody could fuck her like him.

Her stomach immediately felt like jello in the aftershock of her orgasm. They both panted into each other's mouths, slick with sweat, giddy smiles on their faces. Matty’s arms gave out, laying on top of her gently, still twitching inside of her. He didn’t have an ounce of extra energy to pull out. Not that he really wanted to, anyway.

“What’s my prize?” Este asked, throat rough from the screaming she’d just done. 

Matty glanced at the TV, where the time was displayed. 00:28. They hadn’t even lasted half an hour at her ‘game’.

“I reckon I can make you cum three more times before we fall asleep?” he suggested.

“Deal,” she agreed, “Or you can fuck my face like you mentioned. Up to you,” finished Este with a giggle.

His eyes widened in shock, hiding his face in her neck as they both laughed.

“Might need a bit of time to, you know, recharge before we get to that. But I am not passing up on that offer.”

[smilingformoney]

Rickmas 2023: Day 15. Cards and Coals | PL/Reader

AN: This one dedicated to @serenanight87 who keeps begging for more smut and is definitely getting coal in her stocking this year 😏

Content warning: set in a rehab clinic, mentions of suicide

Read now on Ao3 or below the cut:

You had been in the rehab clinic for a little over three months now, and it was starting to look like you were going to be there over Christmas too. You could always discharge yourself, of course, as you were there voluntarily, but really you knew it was the right thing to stick around.

You were alone in the rec room, writing out a Christmas card to your family with a cigarette between your lips, when you heard the voice of one of the orderlies showing a new patient around.

“Oh, and there’s [Y/n]! Her room is right across from yours. [Y/n], you’ve got a new neighbour! This is Paul.”

You looked up to see that your new neighbour was a man in his late forties and strikingly handsome with a mop of blonde hair.

“Everyone calls me PL,” the handsome man said. He seemed stable enough, but then again so did a lot of people in this place until something went wrong.

“Well, how about I leave you two to get to know each other?” the orderly said before scurrying off, leaving you alone with PL.

You leaned back and looked him up and down as he sat down across the table from you with a sigh.

“Let’s see…” you said thoughtfully. “Suicide attempt?”

PL raised an eyebrow at you. “What makes you think that?”

“I have a radar for these sorts of things,” you grinned. “What’d you do?”

“Would you believe me if I said I was innocent?”

You laughed.

“Go on, you can tell me, it gets out eventually. I’ll show you mine, look.”

You pushed back your hair slightly to show him an angry red mark on the side of your head.

“My mam always did say I had a thick skull. Can’t even shoot myself right.”

PL stared at you, flabbergasted. “You shot yourself and survived?”

“Bullet couldn’t get past my skull. Rubbish bullet, if you ask me. Go on, then. I showed you mine, you show me yours.”

“I really didn’t try to kill myself,” PL insisted. “I slipped and fell into the bay. Doctors wouldn’t listen when I said it was an accident.”

“Ah… so you’re here involuntarily. Good luck with that! You’ll never get out.” You took a last puff from your cigarette and stumped it out. You glanced down at his hands, which were fidgeting slightly on the table. “Got a wife outside?” you asked.

“No. Got a husband?”

You scoffed. “Nope. Wanna fuck?”

“Do you proposition every newcomer here?”

“Nah. Just the hot ones. How about it? It has been a very long three months.”

PL looked you up and down, then shrugged. “Alright.”

***

A few minutes later, having dodged being spotted going back to the same room by an orderly, the door to your room closed behind you as PL pushed you up against it and locked his lips against yours. You opened your lips to let his tongue slip past, and already his hands were on your body, grabbing hungrily at you. You were horny and lonely, and he was hot, so you grabbed at him too, your lips separating briefly as you both pulled your tops off.

PL hesitated, staring at your body, one hand on your hip while the other caressed your breast through your bra.

“How old are you?” he asked quietly.

“Twenty-five. You?”

“Forty-nine. That alright?”

“Fine.”

“Good.”

He bent down on one knee and began nuzzling at your breasts, his nose caressing your skin as his tongue teased along the edge of your bra. He unzipped your trousers and pulled them down to your knees, causing you to gasp as the cold air hit your skin. His fingers danced along the edge of your knickers, then slid past to caress your lower lips.

Not having had sex in three months, you hadn’t groomed in all that time, but that didn’t seem to bother him. PL pulled down the cup of your bra and attached his lips to your nipple, at the same time pushing a finger up into you, easily aided by the liquid that had been pooling down there since you’d first laid eyes on him.

“Oh, fuck - PL…” you gasped, surprised that he was taking his time to explore you before even unzipping his trousers. You’d expected him to just ram it in as soon as he could, like every guy you’d ever been with before, but he seemed to be actually enjoying exploring your body.

Another finger joined the first, and you let out an embarrassing little whine when he scissored open his fingers, stretching your walls out. He let out a satisfied hum when he heard how much you were enjoying it, then with his spare hand he reached around your chest to unclasp your bra, which you promptly tossed aside.

PL released your breast from his mouth with a pop, leaving a shiny red mark behind around your nipple. He looked up at you, his amber eyes alight with mischief, and began thrusting his fingers up into you rapidly.

You cried out, and he had the nerve to shush you.

“Don’t want anyone to hear us, do we?” he said quietly, nodding at the door you were currently pressed up against.

“Bed,” you managed to say.

“If you insist.”

He withdrew his fingers from inside you, helped you step out of your trousers, and chuckled when you eagerly scurried over to your bed, which was hopefully far enough away that any orderlies walking by wouldn’t hear you. They never heard you touching yourself, or if they did they ignored it, but by the size of the bulge in PL’s trousers, you suspected you were going to be feeling a lot more pleasure today.

You sat on the side of the bed, and as soon as he got close enough, you hooked your finger under his waistband and pulled him closer.

“Someone’s eager,” he chuckled.

“Someone hasn’t been fucked in three months,” you replied with a grumble.

“Is that what you want?”

PL grabbed your wrists in his hands, stilling your fumbling attempts to get his trousers off.

“Do you want me to fuck you, [Y/n]?”

You looked up at him, and your cross expression only made him laugh.

“Yes. I think I made that pretty clear. Fucking ruin me, PL.”

“And you’re just across the hall from me…” PL said thoughtfully. He released your wrists from his grip, only to squeeze your cheeks to open your mouth, and he slid his fingers past your lips, and you tasted yourself on him.

“Suck me clean,” he growled. “Go on, I want to see how skilled you are with those lips of yours.”

You obeyed, wrapping your lips around his fingers entirely, your tongue running up and down his digits to lick your juices from his fingers. He watched you with a burning desire in his eyes while you took the opportunity while he was distracted to pull his trousers down, and you couldn’t help gasping around his fingers when his cock bounced out of his boxers. You could tell from his bulge that he was big, but you hadn’t realised he was that big.

PL chuckled and withdrew his fingers from your mouth. You reached for his cock, your mouth already open to take him, but he pulled your head back.

“Ah-ah,” he said, shaking his head. “If you do that, I might well finish before we get started. You said you wanted to fuck, and fuck we shall. Get on your back.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you said obediently, pushing yourself up the bed to lay your head on the pillows.

A strange look crossed PL’s face. “Don’t call me that.”

“Oh, sorry. Just slipped out.”

“It’s alright.” He pulled the rest of his clothes off until he was as naked as you, then climbed on top of you, crushing you beneath him with his weight, and you felt the tickle of his cockhead brushing against your thigh. His lips grazed against your neck, and he held your body flush against his, as if he knew how much the pressure of lying underneath him turned you on.

“Twenty-five, you say?” he mumbled as he raised his head to look at you.

“Yes,” you replied breathily, wondering why he was age checking you again.

“And you… know your parents?”

“God, I talk about them enough during therapy every week, I don’t want to talk about them now,” you complained, your hips wriggling underneath him as your cunt tried desperately to seek him out.

“But you do know them?”

You frowned at him. He was being completely bloody serious.

Well, maybe he was nuts enough to be here after all.

“Yeah, yeah, I know them. They’re paying for me to be here.”

“Alright.”

He slowly thrust his hips forward, his cock sliding against you, just missing where you wanted him, and you whined in frustration.

“PL, please, please, oh my god, I fucking need you to fuck me. Please, please…” You begged, almost crying with need, and PL sighed.

“Alright, alright! Jesus.”

He reached down between you and took his cock in his hand to guide it to your entrance.

“Yes, yes, PL, please, fuck - fuck!” You gasped as he finally, finally entered you, his girth stretching you out so sweetly as he sheathed himself inside you.

PL let out a long moan of satisfaction when he bottomed out inside you.

“Oh, that feels so good,” you sighed with relief, feeling that sweet burn you’d missed so much. And was it just because you’d gone so long without sex, or was the stretch even better than you remembered? Then again, PL was definitely the biggest cock you’d ever taken, and it felt fucking fantastic.

He began thrusting inside you, slowly, and he pushed himself up so that he was looking down at you, and all you could see above you was him, his gorgeous hairless chest and his pleasure-addled expression.

“Faster,” you begged, your hips trying fruitlessly to thrust up against him from below, but he had you too trapped to give you any space to move. “Please, faster, faster…”

“Hungry little thing, aren’t you?” PL smirked.

“Yes! Yes, I’m fucking desperate, PL, please. You can fuck me slowly some other time, we’ve got months, but I really need to be railed, please.”

“Alright, then.”

You groaned in relief as his hips snapped faster against yours, finally bringing you the pleasure you’d been craving so desperately. He felt so damn good inside you, just big enough to stretch you out without hurting, and when he sat up on his knees a little more, his angle changed and his cockhead found your G-spot, causing you to cry out in pleasure.

“Thought we didn’t want to get caught?” PL smirked.

“Don’t - care - fuck, that’s so good - god, you’re gonna make me cum so hard, PL…”

“Is that a promise?”

“Yes!”

PL grinned and threw his head back, his eyes closed, and you both lost yourselves in the ecstasy of your violent pleasure. There was nothing else in the world, nothing at all, just you and him and the smacking of his skin against yours, your groans and breathy mutterings of yes and please and so good.

Your groans peaked into a cry of pleasure when you felt PL’s thumb pressing at your clit, rubbing around the juices that were leaking from where the two of you joined. You grabbed at his thighs, desperate for more of him, and your nails dug into his skin as you felt an explosion of pleasure within you, causing your entire body to violently shake as you came harder than you had in what felt like an age.

With a gorgeous girl underneath him, screaming his name as she writhed in pleasure, what else could PL do but cum? Your channel clenched around him as he shot his seed inside you and you milked him dry for all he had. His groan was deep, guttural, animalistic and absolutely fucking beautiful.

He dropped your legs, his energy spent, and had to stop himself from collapsing on top of you, as much as you wanted his body weight on you.

“Fucking hell, [Y/n],” he panted. “I’d have gone to rehab a lot earlier if I’d known this was what it was like.”

You laughed. “A bunch of sad, isolated fucked up people confined to one building - what did you think was gonna happen?”

PL pulled out of you and rolled over to prop himself up on his elbow next to you. “And you say you’ve not fucked since you got here?”

You shrugged. “Doesn’t feel right… like I’m taking advantage of their vulnerability, y’know? But you’re hot, and you’re not supposed to be here either, so I figured it’s alright. Hang on, I gotta go to the bathroom.”

When you returned, PL was unfortunately now wearing his boxer shorts again, but he was still on your bed, so you took that as a win.

“What do you mean, I’m not supposed to be here either?” he asked curiously.

You froze in the middle of climbing underneath the blanket. Oh, damn. You hadn’t meant to say that.

Your hand flew to your scar instinctively, and you sighed.

“I didn’t shoot myself,” you admitted. “I said I did it myself to cover for the person who did.” You looked up at him urgently. “Don’t tell anyone, please. I don’t want him to go to prison.”

“Him?”

“Not the kind of him you’re thinking. We’re related, let’s leave it at that.”

PL glanced away, his eyes looking distant for a brief moment, then he shook his head as if to shake off whatever thought had crossed his mind.

“I should be ready to go again in about ten minutes if you like,” he suggested. “Since you’re so determined to set the speed, maybe you can take charge this time.”

“Are you asking me to ride you, PL?” you asked flirtatiously. “You are a naughty one, aren’t you?”

“Santa’s definitely bringing me coal for my stocking this year.”

You laughed. “Alright. You know, I think we’re going to have a lot of fun here.”

[lestappenforever]

Mona, dear writer, what an eventful race! How I wished Piastri got a podium but it’s okay tho, his time will come. I’m sorry to bother you but I just love your writing so much and my other prompt cheered me up a lot so I came to ask for more. My chosen ones are 15 and 24, I also think these are the perfect match. See you soon 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

Evie, my darling, I'm not even kidding, I was crossing my fingers for Oscar to get a podium finish throughout most of the race and I was so disappointed when he didn't. But you are absolutely right, his time will come and I will be so very excited when it does!

You are the absolute sweetest, honestly. I'm so honored that you enjoy my writing to such an extent. And you shall of course have more because you are wonderful and I love you. 🫶🏻

---

15. "Just say yes." and 24. "Can I touch you?"

"Can I touch you?"

That's the sentence that started this whole thing. That's the sentence that sent Charles Leclerc plummeting headfirst into a situation that will inevitably become his downfall. He's sure of it.

It was a cruel twist of fate that had led to Max walking in on Charles in his driver's room, half-naked and with a very obvious erection within the confines of his boxers. The erection had been Max's fault, too, because he'd decided to strip out of his shirt after qualifying in Austria, in the middle of the fucking paddock, mere minutes earlier.

And Charles was but a man. A man who had been trying to control his overwhelming attraction to Max for an embarrassing amount of time already.

He was weak, okay? Max Verstappen made him weak.

Sue him.

So yes, Max had walked in on Charles as he'd been in the middle of changing. He'd seen Charles' erection as the Monégasque had frozen in place and stared at Max. Like a deer caught in headlights.

Honestly, Charles hadn't been sure what kind of reaction he'd been expecting. But Max's tongue darting out to wet his lips as his eyes stayed locked on the bulge in Charles' boxers certainly hadn't been it.

Max breathing "Can I touch you?" hadn't been it, either.

But, that's exactly what he got. And what was Charles supposed to do? Say no?

He said yes, because Charles wasn't a fucking idiot.

---

It started out as just sex. It was supposed to be just sex. Because sex was simple and casual, driven by nothing but their primal needs for each other and release.

But then Charles had to go and fall in love. Because apparently, he was a fucking idiot.

And if Charles hadn't been a fucking idiot, he wouldn't have been sitting on his couch, in the middle of a fucking breakdown following yet another failure in the Monaco Grand Prix. And Max wouldn't have been sitting right next to him, having showed up at his door just as Charles had lost the last of his self-control and broken out into a sob.

Because if he hadn't been a fucking idiot, Charles wouldn't have answered the door. Wouldn't have let Max in. Wouldn't have let Max see him like this.

And yet, here he was. Because Charles is a fucking idiot.

It's embarrassing and humiliating, but Charles can't stop the tears that are streaming down his cheeks. Can't stop the way his breath keeps catching in his throat. Can't stop the way his hands are trembling as he presses the palms of his hands against his eyes in a futile attempt to make it stop.

Max has been quiet for a long time, and Charles knows that this is probably going to ruin their little arrangement because nothing about this is attractive. But he's too fucking devastated to do anything about it.

"Can I touch you?"

The question is quiet. Tentative.

It catches Charles off-guard, because although the question is familiar — very familiar — the situation is so very different.

He doesn't think he can make his voice work, so he just nods into his hands.

The first touch is hesitating: a gentle hand on Charles' shoulder, fingers squeezing lightly. It sets something loose within Charles and his body begins to shake ever so slightly.

And then Max's hand is gone from his shoulder, only to be replaced by strong arms wrapping around him and pulling him tight against a firm chest.

Charles' sobs become louder, more violent — as if having Max hold him is undoing the very last of his resolve, allowing him to release every heartbroken emotion he's been trying so hard, for so long, to hold back.

Max holds him through it, his arms never loosening their tight hold on him. Never saying a word, just letting Charles fall apart in his arms.

Charles has no idea how much time has passed when the sobs and the tears finally stop coming, but it feels like hours. And judging by how dark it is outside when he finally eases himself out of Max's arms, it must have been, too.

"I'm sorry," Charles mumbles, wiping at his puffy face and looking anywhere but at Max.

"Don't apologize," Max tells him firmly, one hand coming out to settle on Charles' thigh. "I mean it."

The Monégasque nods, but still refuses to meet Max's eyes.

Max's hand on his thigh tightens.

"I know this isn't really what we do, but will you just let me hold you tonight?"

Charles does look at him then, eyes wide with surprise, and he doesn't see the disgust or the discomfort he'd been expecting.

No, the only thing he sees in Max's eyes is something dangerously close to adoration. To concern. To love.

He doesn't know how to respond to that. Doesn't know what to say.

Which he apparently says out loud, and Max smiles that beautiful, breathtaking smile at him.

"Just say yes."

He does.

And maybe Charles isn't a fucking idiot after all.

[bettyfrommars]

Chapter 15 of I'm on Fire will be posted tomorrow 9/6), and OOF---this one really got away from me.

I'm sharing this as a heads up for those wondering, but also as a plea to make sure you heed the tags and warnings. I'm going to do my best to label this fic without spoiling anything, and if you have any questions, I am always here. This part will be twice as intense as the last one, but after that, everything will mellow out for the most part as the series winds down. (middle photo is not meant to be reader)

Here are some of the warnings to expect: violence, fear of the unknown, reader being held against their will, a gun, gunshots, knife wielding, suspense, hand to hand combat, fast pace, blood, murder, being on the run, hurt/comfort, reader fighting back, protective Eddie, protective Steve, gigolo Steve, cliffhanger, sex with someone other than reader (not Eddie), reader is hurt (not by Eddie).

This series was one of the first things I attempted to write after a very long time of not writing, and it's wild to see how much my voice and style have evolved. This will be the last series of this length that I will ever post to tumblr; I plan to stick to blurbs and short fics from now on, but I'm very glad I did it, and I'm so grateful for the friends I've made along the way.

Love you, looking forward to what you think xoxox

[theplanetofthesnapes]

Happy Accidents

Sorry it’s been such a long time since I posted anything. Life happened and then I struggled to find the motivation but I hope you like this one.

Summary: You find out you’re pregnant after a one night stand with Snape.

Warnings: talk about pregnancy, menstruation that kinda stuff, also references to sex and minor bad language.

I woke up and it felt like a normal day. I get in the shower and get dressed for another day of work as assistant in the greenhouses at Hogwarts. Today I have a great day ahead of me…not, repotting the mandrakes is my least favourite job and I always end up with a massive headache no matter how tightly I put on my earmuffs.

I go to the breakfast hall and sit at my normal seat at the end of the staff table and look out at all the students and smile because those Weasley twins seem to have put something in Lee Jordan’s pocket and I can guarantee it’s something that Lee Jordan probably wouldn’t want in his pocket. Soon enough I can hear a small chirping sound and Lee Jordan looking rather annoyed as he pulls a handful of crickets out of his pocket and attempts to dump them on the twin’s heads.

It’s all going great until he walks in, he walks passed where I’m sitting. “Morning Severus”. I say cheerily.

“Morning” he retorts not even glancing in my direction. My heart sinks, I mean it’s not like I expected him to be in love with me or suddenly be my best friend after what happened the other week after Slughorn’s party but did he really need to act like he didn’t even know me? Maybe I’m thinking too much into it, I mean so what we had sex and now I like him but he clearly doesn’t feel the same way. It’s not like I won’t get over it right? But he could at least smile when I say hi and not just treat me like anyone else, the same way he treats his students.

I shake my head determined not to let his not so warm greeting get to me and ruin my day and start chatting with Poppy who is sat next to me.

After breakfast I go down to the greenhouse where Pomona was taking her 3rd year Herbology class, I sit at the back and start preparing the pots for the mandrakes that I am going to repot after the students leave. “Okay now I need to pop to the greenhouse next door I will be back in 15 minutes until then carry on with your venomous tentacula dethorning and any problems talk to Miss Y/L/N at the back” Pamona said as she nods at me and walks out of the classroom.

Ten minutes later a nervous looking Ravenclaw approaches me. “Miss Y/L/N?” she says timidly.

“How can I help?” I reply smiling warmly to try and ease her anxiety of whatever she’s about to say.

“I kinda need to go to the toilet, it’s um girl problems” she replies not looking at me.

Now this I can sympathise with, I write her up a pass and allow her to leave without question and as soon as the professor gets back I let her know she’s out of class and carry on my business. The interaction though got me thinking, it’s been a while since I last had my period, I count back in my head and shit I’m about a week and a half late. Shit shit shit, okay don’t panic, I mean I’ve been stressed recently and I’ve literally only had sex once with one person in the last month and I was careful. Except I’ve never been this late in my life. Oh man “don’t freak out, don’t freak out” I tell myself.

Once the break after first lesson arrives I tell Pomona that I have to slip out for a minute and briskly walk down to the hospital wing. Poppy is talking to a student so I wait a second. “Hey Y/N can I help you with something?” Poppy says after the student leaves with what looks like the cure for the Weasley’s puking pastilles, poor kid.

“Um yeah I was wondering if you maybe had anything, I don’t know how it works in the wizarding world being muggle born but um something to test for pregnancy.” I say trying to sound calm, I don’t want any rumours to be spread and Poppy is known to be a bit of a gossip so if I act panicked she’ll expect it to be some big scandal. Which if I am pregnant it probably will be, oh god no I can’t think like that.

She doesn’t even look phased “Oh yes, well I do have the wizard methods but I’ve found the muggle pregnancy tests to actually be much more effective, here you go all you have to do is…”

“Thanks Poppy, yes I know what to do and um could we maybe keep this between us, I’m barely even late yet I don’t want it to get out, it might not even be…” You trail off.

“Oh of course my darling, I take an oath as a healer I would never tell anybody. But sweetie if it’s positive please let me know if I can help you out in any way.” She replies with a warm smile.

I run to my room where thankfully I have my own private bathroom and do the test. The next three minutes are torture as I pace back and forth not daring to glance at the stick that will soon predict my future better than Professor Trelawney ever could. Finally my timer goes off and I go quickly to pick up the stick not being able to bare waiting anymore and glance down.

My heart feels like it stops. Two lines. I’m pregnant… and Severus Snape is the father.

The next two days are fuelled with anxiety and indecision. I did three more tests to make sure and they were pretty conclusive. So I made up my mind I do need to tell Severus as soon as possible so then I know what page he’s on and I can then decide what to do but every time I build up the courage to walk to his office I chicken out. Finally I see him walk down the steps to the dungeon after classes have finished for the day so I follow him. I see him in his office through the frosty glass window and I’m about to knock the door when I chicken out again. I’m about to walk away when I hear “Is someone out there?” Shit Severus noticed I was there well I guess there’s no turning back now.

“Um yeah hi, it’s me I err I was hoping maybe we could talk.” I say and my heart is racing so much it can’t be good for the baby.

“Very well come in then.” He said sounding bored with the conversation before it’s even started.

“Hi” I say as I walk in slowly.

“Hello” he replies warily.

“God okay so umm you know that thing that happened the other week after Slughorn’s party that we haven’t really spoken about or even acknowledged or anything.” I say rambling because I really don’t know how I’m going to start what I’m going to say.

“Yes I’m aware of when we had intercourse after one too many firewhiskeys” he smirks.

“Ah yes well about that” I say still stalling.

“Look I’ll save you the trouble of you telling me how much you regret it, I understand that in a sober state no woman would want to be with me and that you must be repulsed by yourself right now and I was trying to save myself by avoiding you the last month in order to maintain at least some of my dignity.” He says seemingly getting annoyed now.

I’m shocked “What? Severus, oh my god no I don’t think that, I don’t regret it at all. In fact I was honestly kind of upset you were ignoring me, it felt like you had just used me and then treated me like everyone else like what we did that night meant nothing, less than nothing in fact.” I can feel my eyes start to well up as I speak. “Don’t cry, don’t cry” I tell myself internally cause that really won’t help the situation.

“Wait, are you telling me you really don’t regret that night?” He responds hopefully.

“No I don’t Severus and even if you never want to see me again I’m happy we did it, I feel like I saw a whole new side of you that night. One that was kind and caring compared to this hard shell I’ve seen since then.” I reply softly.

“You’d want to see me again?” He looks a lot less solemn now as he replies, maybe even happy I can’t tell.

“I mean yeah but I ugh that’s before I”

He cuts me off “Oh I see you found someone else” his face falls again.

“No damnit Severus please just let me talk, I’m trying to tell you I’m pregnant.” I say almost shouting it at him. He looks shocked, the tears that were threatening to leak out before now do and roll down my cheeks. “And it’s yours just in case there is any doubt” I say in almost a whisper at this point.

Severus stands up and walks over to me, he pulls me into his arms and lets me cry. After a minute he says softly “How long have you known?” There was no hint of anger in his voice anymore “I did notice the last few days something has been off”.

I pull back to look up at him “You noticed that? I found out two days ago, I’ve been building up the courage to tell you since then” I say weakly.

He chuckles. “Yes I did notice you skulking around the dungeons a lot, and I thought it must be because you wished to talk to me but I didn’t say anything since given how I thought this conversation was going to go. I wanted to avoid it at all costs. Have you thought at all about what you want to do? It’s okay if you haven’t there’s time and it must be a shock to you. If I’m honest I don’t know how to process it myself just yet but my priority is making sure you are okay.” He says surprisingly calmly.

“I don’t think I could live with myself if I.. well if I at least didn’t try. But I don’t expect you to be part of anything you don’t want to be, I’m strong I can do this by myself if I need to.” I say determined this time as I wipe my tears. It’s the first time I’ve let myself consider this but I know in my heart raising this baby is my only option, the amount of love I feel for it already is crazy . But I don’t say this part to Severus, I don’t know where he stands on this or even if he can think about that right now after the shock of hearing this.

“I have no doubt you can raise a child by yourself, you will be an excellent mother. I see you with the students, how kind and compassionate you are. Any child you would be mother to would be lucky to have you. However if you will let me, I would love to be part of the child’s life. I never believed for a second I may have children of my own and I have to admit that it’s not something I ever envisioned for my future but the idea of raising a child and even more so raising it with you, the women that I’m in love with fills me with a hope I don’t think I’ve ever had before in my thirty eight years of life.” He says with a kind tone that I’ve only ever heard him use once before, when he was asking me permission to kiss me before we did the thing that got us into this mess.

“Wait? What? You love me? I… Severus” I stutter really not knowing what to say except actually I do know what to say. “I think I love you too, What do we do now?”

“We figure it out together, but first are you free this evening? I think we might have skipped a few steps and it might be about time we have our first date” He smiles.

I smile back and pull him into another hug, he kisses my head and I smile into his shoulder. Maybe everything is going to be okay after all.

[prettygoododds]

20 Questions for fic writers

Thanks @wellbelesbian for tagging me. Such fun questions! Tags below the cut.

How many works do you have on AO3

68! Wow, I did not realize this.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

134,335

3. What fandoms do you write for?

The Carry On Series aka Simon Snow fandom aka Snobaz

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

When the Ink Dries

Can I Change My Mind (this one blows my mind, how it continues to stay at the top)

Namaste Away

Every Lover Has A Little Dagger In Their Hand

We're So Starving

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or Why not?

I try to, but I'm very bad at it. It's something I need to work on.

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

We Were Pity Sex, Nothing More and Nothing Less It doesn't even pretend to be kind.

Also, I'm Right Where You Left Me It's short, but cuts right to the bone.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of mine do have a happy ending (when I go sad, I go hard). If I had to choose a few, I suppose:

Where Did the Party Go?

Believe

Namaste Away

8. Do you get hate on fics?

No. Had a few recommendations on how to tag a few works, or to make it more user friendly but everyone has always been very kind with those suggestions. The Carry On fandom is a really good fandom.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I'm slowly dipping my toes in that water. I've posted a few works that have smut, but I'm still very tentative about it. I don't know what kind really. Regular?

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I do not

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not to my knowledge

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have not, but I'm not opposed to it.

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

Snobaz, hands down. It's the one I come back to every time. My comfort ship.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have 2 WIP currently and both of those will be finished. My other WIP not on AO3 are just sitting in my google docs, where no one can see them shivering in the corner, neglected.

16 What are your writing strengths?

Oof. I'd like to think I'm good at dialogue.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Descriptions and setting a scene. I'm working on it though, and that's the important bit I suppose *shrugs shoulders in Simon*

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Not something I've attempted. I won't say I never will, but I will probably not unless I absolutely have to

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Somewhere, in the depths of fanfic.net are my abandoned Twilight fics. And that is where they will stay until the death of the planet.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

I have a few and when I'm questioning why I think I should be doing this at all, I read them to remember I started because I wanted to write the stories I wanted to read.

When The Ink Dries - I started this fic waaaaay before I ever posted it and it was the reason I decided to participate in my first Carry On Big Bang. It's my fic first born.

I'm Not A Pitch - This fic popped my AO3 cherry. I posted it before I could second guess myself. It's full of errors, but I wouldn't change anything about it.

Vibe Check - I wrote this in a few hours when I was feeling silly and it is still one of my favorites

Who Wants Ramen? - My friend and I giggled endlessly when I plotted this one out.

You Can Call Me Babe for the Weekend - I spend a lot of time listening to music and plotting out the story that a 3-4 minutes song can tell. 'Tis the Damn Season was an immediate movie in my head and as soon as I could plot it out and put it on paper (so to speak) I did.

And last but not least Sugar, We're Going Down Swingin - This is pure self indulgence. I got into hockey, I wanted the boys to be hockey players...bam, here's a fic with almost no hockey in it, but sometimes they talk about it.

I'm don't know who's already been tagged, so sorry if I double up:

@facewithoutheart @imagineacoolusername @artsyunderstudy @shemakesmeforget @ivelovedhimthroughworse @ionlydrinkhotwater @rimeswithpurple @aristocratic-otter @cutestkilla @blackberrysummerblog @nausikaaa @supercutedinosaurs @nightimedreamersworld @valeffelees @iamamythologicalcreature @shrekgogurt @ileadacharmedlife @martsonmars @you-remind-me-of-the-babe