#<- these tags make me over the moon I hope you know that

[c00kietin]

ADFADSFASGHGHAJJAAA SJDJDKKSL YIPPEE YIPPEE YIPPEE LEAPING OFF THE WALLS AAAAAAAAAAAA

you know when you want to draw someone's oc but then you forget how to draw their clothes- ha ha can't relate-/j

ANYWHOS this beauty of a cookie belongs to @cornkernelcorp!! <33

[longagoitwastuesday]

So so indebted to u for posting those lovely illustrations from Cyrano <333 & even more so for yr tags!! I'm completely in love w yr analysis, please feel free to ramble as long as u wish! Browsing through yr Cyrano de Bergerac tag has given me glimpses of so many adaptations & translations I'd never heard of before! I'll be watching the Solès version next, which I have only discovered today through u ^_^ As for translations, have u read many/all of them? I've only encountered the Renauld & Burgess translations in the wild, & I was curious to hear yr translation thoughts that they might guide my decision on which one I buy first (not necessarily Renauld or Burgess ofc). Have a splendid day & sorry for the likespam! 💙

Sorry for the delay. Don't mind the likespam, I'm glad you enjoyed my tags about Cyrano, and that they could contribute a bit to a further appreciation of the play. I loved it a lot, I got obsessed with it for months. It's always nice to know other people deeply love too that which is loved haha I hope you enjoy the Solès version, it may well be my favourite one!

About translations, I'm touched you're asking me, but I don't really know whether mine is the best opinion to ask. I have read... four or five English translations iirc, the ones I could find online, and I do (and especially did, back when I was reading them) have a lot of opinions about them. However, nor English nor French are my first languages (they are third and fourth respectively, so not even close). I just read and compare translations because that's one of my favourite things to do.

The fact is that no translation is perfect, of course. I barely remember Renauld's, but I think it was quite literal; that's good for understanding the basics of the text, concepts and characters, but form is subject, and there's always something that escapes too literal translations. Thomas and Guillemard's if I recall correctly is similar to Hooker's in cadence. It had some beautiful fragments, some I preferred over Hooker's, but overall I think to recall I liked Hooker's more. If memory serves, Hooker's was the most traditionally poetic and beautiful in my opinion. Burgess' is a whole different thing, with its perks and drawbacks.

Something noticeable in the other translations is that they are too... "epic". They do well the poetic, sorrowful, grief stricken, crushed by regrets aspects of Cyrano and the play in general, but they fall quite short in the funny and even pathetic aspects, and that too is key in Cyrano, both character and play. Given the characteristics of both languages, following the cadence of the French too literally, with those long verses, makes an English version sound far too solemn at times when the French text isn't. Thus Burgess changes the very cadence of the text, adapting it more to the English language. This translation is the one that best sets the different moods in the play, and as I said before form is subject, and that too is key: after all, the poetic aspect of Cyrano is as much true as his angry facet and his goofy one. If Cyrano isn't funny he isn't Cyrano, just as he wouldn't be Cyrano without his devotion to Roxane or his insecurities; Cyrano is who he is precisely because he has all these facets, because one side covers the other, because one trait is born from another, because one facet is used as weapon to protect the others, like a game of mirrors and smoke. We see them at different points through the play, often converging. Burgess' enhances that. He plays with the language itself in form and musicality, with words and absences, with truths masking other truths, with things stated but untold, much like Cyrano does. And the stage directions, poetic and with literary value in their own right in a way that reminded me of Valle Inclán and Oscar Wilde, interact with the text at times in an almost metatextual dimension that enhances that bond Cyrano has with words, giving them a sort of liminal air and strengthening that constant in the play: that words both conceal and unveil Cyrano, that in words he hides and words give him away.

But not all is good, at all. Unlike Hooker, Burgess reads to me as not entirely understanding every facet of the characters, and as if he didn't even like the play all that much, as if he had a bit of a disdainful attitude towards it, and found it too mushy. Which I can understand, but then why do you translate it? In my opinion the Burgess' translation does well bending English to transmit the different moods the French text does, and does pretty well understanding the more solemn, cool, funny, angry, poetic aspects of Cyrano, but less so his devotion, vulnerability, insecurities and his pathetism. It doesn't seem to get Roxane at all, how similar she is to Cyrano, nor why she has so many admirers. It does a very poor job at understanding Christian and his value, and writes him off as stupid imo. While I enjoyed the language aspect of the Burgess translation, I remember being quite angry at certain points reading it because of what it did to the characters and some changes he introduces. I think he did something very questionable with Le Bret and Castel-Jaloux, and I remember being incensed because of Roxane at times (for instance, she doesn't go to Arras in his version, which is a key scene to show just how much fire Roxane has, and that establishes several parallels with Cyrano, in attitude and words, but even in act since she does a bit what Cyrano later does with the nuns in the last act), and being very angry at several choices about Christian too. While not explicitly stated, I think the McAvoy production and the musical both follow this translation, because they too introduce these changes, and they make Christian as a character, and to an extent the entire play, not make sense.

For instance, once such change is that Christian is afraid that Roxane will be cultured (McAvoy's version has that infamous "shit"/"fuck" that I detest), when in the original French it's literally the opposite. He is not afraid she will be cultured, he is afraid she won't, because he does love and appreciate and admires those aspects of her, as he appreciates and admires them in Cyrano. That's key! Just as Cyrano longs to have what Christian has, Christian wants the same! That words escape him doesn't mean he doesn't understand or appreciate them. The dynamics make no sense without this aspect, and Burgess (and the productions that directly or indirectly follow him) constantly erases this core trait of Christian.

Another key moment of Christian Burgess butchers is the scene in Arras in which Christian discovers the truth. Burgess writes their discussion masterfully in form, it's both funny and poignant, but it falls short in concept: when Cyrano tells him the whole discussion about who does Roxane love and what will happen, what they'll do, is academic because they're both going to die, Christian states that dying is his role now. This destroys entirely the thing with Christian wanting Roxane to have the right to know, and the freedom to choose, or to refuse them both. As much as Cyrano proclaims his love for truth and not mincing words even in the face of authority, Cyrano is constantly drunk on lies and mirages, masks and metaphors. It's Christian who wants it all to end, the one who wants real things, the one who wants to risk his own happiness for the chance of his friend's, as well as for the woman he loves to stop living in a lie. That is a very interesting aspect of Christian, and another aspect in which he is written as both paralleling and contrasting Cyrano. It's interesting from a moral perspective and how that works with the characters, but it's also interesting from a conceptual point of view, both in text and metatextually: what they hold most dear, what they most want, what most fulfills them, what they most fear, their different approaches to life, but also metatextually another instance of that tears/blood motif and its ramifications constant through the whole text. Erasing that climatic decision and making him just simply suicidal erases those aspects of Christian and his place in the Christian/Cyrano/Roxane dynamic, all for plain superficial angst, that perhaps hits more in the moment, but holds less meaning.

Being more literal, and more solemn, Hooker's translation (or any of the others, but Hooker's seems to love the characters and understand them) doesn't make these conceptual mistakes. Now, would I not recommend reading Burgess' translation? I can't also say that. I had a lot of fun reading it, despite the occasional anger and indignation haha Would I recommend buying it? I recommend you give an eye to it first, if you're tempted and can initially only buy one.

You can read Burgess' translation entirely in archive.com. You can also find online the complete translations of Renauld, Hooker and Thomas and Guillemard. I also found a fifth one, iirc, but I can't recall it right now (I could give a look). You could read them before choosing, or read your favourite scenes and fragments in the different translations, and choose the one in which you like them better. That's often what I do.

Edit: I've checked to make sure and Roxane does appear in Arras in the translation. It's in the introduction in which it is stated that she doesn't appear in the production for which the translation was made. The conceptualisation of Roxane I criticise and that in my opinion is constant through the text does stay, though.

[deus-ex-mona]

tmw you give someone concise instructions but they ✨just do not get it✨

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

ANIMAL INSTINCT

PAIRING: logan howlett x vampire mutant!female reader

RATING: explicit | WORD COUNT: 2.3k

SUMMARY:

after helping you out by letting you feed from him, logan asks you to return the favor.

part two of bloodthirsty

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

thank you for all the love on bloodthirsty! here’s a nice and smutty second part. big thank you to @guiltyasdave for reading this over for me 💕

TAGS/WARNINGS:

explicit sexual content (18+ mdni), x-men (2000) logan howlett, able bodied reader, vampire mutant!reader, no use of y/n, single POV - reader, primal play (chase/capture), gratuitous use of growling/roaring, light fighting, mentions of blood, biting, rough sex, semi-public sex (in the woods), oral - f receiving, unprotected p in v, multiple orgasms, creampie, dirty talk, blade play (the claws come out).

Logan finds you in an empty hallway one afternoon, about two weeks after your encounter in the kitchen. You made the mistake of making eye contact, leaving you unable to turn and pretend you didn't see him like you've been doing since that night. 

"You avoiding me or something?" he says, hint of a smile on his lips. 

"No," you reply quickly. "What makes you think that?"

"Haven't seen you around much lately."

"Just busy."

"Right." He looks away for a moment, hands on his hips. "Look, I got a proposition for you."

"I don't--"

"I got this issue--," he continues, ignoring your response "--where it gets to be too much, you know? And I helped you out so--"

"What are you talking about?" you interrupt.

His voice drops a bit lower. "We're predators, right? And I don't know about you but sometimes my prey drive can be...too much, if you catch my drift."

"Okay..."

"And I got two words for you - quid pro quo."

You blink at him. "Logan, that's three words."

"I thought pro quo was one word."

"Why would you think that?"

"We're getting off topic," he says, waving his hands. “Think you can help a guy out?"

"Help you...how, exactly?"

You agree to meet Logan at the edge of the dense forest that surrounds the X Mansion at nightfall and as you walk through the grounds blanketed in darkness, your senses begin to feel more alive. Anticipation courses through you and the further you venture from the mansion, the darker the night becomes.

Logan is already there when you arrive, tension rolling off of him in waves. He gives you a tight smile.

"Took you long enough," he says. You roll your eyes.

"I'm still here, aren't I?" You gesture to the forest. "So, what now?"

"You run," Logan replies. "I hunt."

The deep timbre of his voice sends a shiver down your spine. What he's asking for goes against your nature but some deep part of you is eager to please. 

You take off through the trees, running as fast as your legs will carry you across the soft forest floor. With your enhanced speed, it's not long before you're miles from the manicured mansion grounds, surrounded by gnarled roots and a thick canopy of leaves that blocks nearly all light from the moon.

You slow to a stop, catching your breath. The snap of a branch is the only warning you get before Logan's heavy weight barrels into you, sending you both tumbling to the ground with him coming out on top, smiling down at you, a wild glint to his eyes.

"Gotta do better than that, bub," he says. He stands up, holding a hand out to help you to your feet. "I'll give you a head start this time."

"I don't need a head start," you grumble. "I'm faster than you."

He laughs. "We'll see about that."

You start running, his laughter ringing in your ears. Your path is less direct this time, weaving through the trees and doubling back to leave your scent in more places and crossing a small creek with the hopes that the running water helps to cover your tracks. You grow comfortable enough in your lead that you begin to slow down, keeping yourself attuned to the sounds of the forest and any changes that might indicate Logan has found you.

The trees break into a vast clearing, tall grass swaying in the breeze. Moonlight trickles past the branches, stripes of faint light illuminating the floor. You take a moment to appreciate the tranquility of it, but the calm is short lived when you catch movement at the corner of your eye.

Logan steps through the trees. He's removed his shirt, thick muscle glimmering with sweat, his chest heaving with labored breath. Your mouth goes dry at the sight and for a moment you really do understand what it's like to be prey, faced with something so deadly it's almost hypnotizing, impossible to look away even when you’re in danger. He stalks closer and you feel frozen in place, unable to move a muscle.

"Found you," he growls. 

Your survival instinct kicks into gear and you attempt to run away, sprinting across the glade with renewed vigor. If you can make it back into the forest you know you could shake him loose again, but staying in the clearing makes you a clear target. 

Logan roars, the sound loud enough to shake the branches of nearby trees. You risk a glance over your shoulder and are met with the sight of the man on all fours, running towards you with single minded determination. He rapidly closes the distance with impressive speed, wrapping his arms around you and taking you down to the ground for the second time that night.

You grapple with him, landing a kick to his chest that gives you the chance to crawl out from beneath him. He reaches a hand out for your ankle and drags you back toward him, using his weight to hold you in place. You wiggle an arm free and strike at his face, though he dodges and your fingernails scrape against his neck, leaving red gashes in their wake that heal in the blink of an eye. He pins your arm to the ground above your head.

"No more runnin’,” he says, a command that shoots straight to your core. You know he’s not talking about just tonight, but rather how you’ve been avoiding him. 

But how were you supposed to face him when the only thoughts you had of him since then were about how sweet he tasted, how good he felt, how much you wanted more, more, more that you couldn’t possibly ask him to give?

Your inner turmoil is lost when his lips slam against yours in a kiss that’s hot and hungry, stealing your breath with its ferociousness. His teeth sink into your bottom lip and you gasp at the sharp sting of pain that lights up your nerves. There’s nothing gentle about it, but you’re not gentle creatures and the beasts that pace and snarl beneath your ribcage have finally broken free.

Logan breaks the kiss to stare down at you with wild eyes. Blood, your blood, stains his lips and his tongue darts out to lick it away with a satisfied hum. He leans in close, burying his face in your neck, inhaling deeply, mouth open against your skin with the threat of sharp teeth over your racing pulse.

“Can’t hide it,” he says. “Not when I can smell it on you, sweetheart.”

“Smell what?” 

“How much you want it.” He nips at the juncture between your neck and shoulder, making you hiss. “How much you want me.”

Heavy hands find the hem of your shirt, shoving it up your chest until it’s bunched beneath your armpits. He pulls down your bra to expose your breasts and your nipples tighten at the sudden burst of cold air against your skin but his mouth is on you in an instant, warm tongue tracing the taut buds. Your back arches at the sensation and you dig your fingers into his thick hair, pulling at the strands. He hums with pleasure as he switches to your other breast, giving it the same maddening attention.

His palm slides down your belly, fingers dipping beneath the elastic of your leggings and finding your needy center, swirling through the mess you’ve already made in your underwear. You can feel the smug grin on Logan’s face before he even lifts his head to look at you.

“That’s what I thought.” He withdraws his hand, holding it up to his face. In the moonlight you catch a glimpse of the strands of slick stretching between his index and middle finger before he sticks them in his mouth with a groan, licking them clean. “Fuck, you taste better than I imagined.”

The metallic sound of his claws unsheathing reaches your ears and your pulse jumps as he drags the blunt side of a single blade up the inside of your thigh. The tip catches on the fabric covering your pussy and with one quick move of his wrist he slices through your pants. His claw disappears and he reaches down with both hands to tear the fabric further.

Logan settles on his belly with his head between your thighs, your legs propped up on his broad shoulders. He kisses your pussy over the soaked fabric of your underwear but

spares you any further teasing, grabbing your panties in a tight fist and pulling roughly until the elastic snaps against your skin and he holds the torn fabric in his fist. He tosses them aside and buries his face in your cunt, devouring you like a man on a mission. His tongue alternates circling your sensitive clit and dipping into your dripping entrance, expertly tracing every inch of you. You’re so lost to the pleasure that you don’t notice him getting to his knees until he’s lifting your hips, hands gripping your ass tightly to keep your lower body suspended in the air and his mouth sealed to your cunt.

“Fuck!” you cry out, muscles growing tense as your orgasm builds. It hits you like a tidal wave, coursing through your veins as you shout his name like a prayer. His hold remains tight as he works you through it until you grow boneless in the aftermath.

He lowers you slowly back to the ground and you fight to catch your breath while he quickly removes his belt and shoves his jeans down enough to free his cock. You watch him take himself in hand, a brief slide of his fist over his impressive length before he runs the glistening head through your sensitive folds, bumping your clit and making you shiver.

Logan’s gaze remains fixed to yours as he presses forward, breaching your tight entrance. Your body accepts him greedily, the slight sting and stretch barely a thought when all you can focus on is how full he makes you feel.

His lips find yours for a messy kiss while he begins to thrust, a slow drag of his cock from your body followed by a sharp snap of his hips that punches the air from your lungs. You cling to his shoulders, clawing at his skin. The scent of his blood invades your senses and your teeth begin to ache at the memory of his taste. 

Your teeth catch on his lip and he hisses but doesn’t pull away. Copper blooms across your taste buds and you can’t help the desperate moan that escapes into the kiss.

“Come on, baby,” Logan says. “Take a bite.”

You rest a palm on the back of his head, urging him closer, lifting your head and kissing his neck, licking the salty taste of him from over his fluttering pulse. You open your mouth, sinking your teeth into skin and muscle and vein until warm blood spills into your mouth. The combination of his blood on your tongue and his cock spreading you open sends you over the edge.

Above you, Logan growls, a deep rumble you can feel down to your marrow, some ancient part of you preening with excitement. He holds himself still as you clench around him. Your orgasm slowly subsides and you find the strength to unclench your tense jaw from his neck, gently licking at the blood that spills from the deep impressions of your teeth.

Logan sits up, cock slipping from your body and leaving you achingly empty. His hands grip your hips, forcefully turning your lax body over and hiking your ass into the air. He spreads your cheeks and the vulnerable position has your whole body growing hot.

“Hope you didn’t think we were done,” he tells you as he positions himself behind you, thrusting his length back into your body and setting a brutal pace that has you crying out into the night. 

One hand holds your hip with bruising force while the other settles on your shoulder, pulling you into every delicious snap of his hips. Your mind goes blissfully blank with the overwhelming pleasure building up inside of you for the third time.

He folds forward, his chest pressed to your back and his pace growing sloppy as he nears his own release. A hand curls around yours, a moment of intimacy that leaves you reeling.

Logan roars, hips slamming into a final time, dragging your last orgasm from you as his cock pulses with his release inside of you. A sharp pain on your hip makes you gasp and you notice his claws have extended from the hand wrapped around yours, sinking into the dirt.

“Shit,” he pants, sitting up after a moment. The loss of his heat makes you shiver. “I nicked you.”

You slowly move yourself into a seated position, muscles feeling like jelly, and inspect the area that the pain came from. Your leggings have a new slice in the fabric and the material is sticky with blood but to your surprise, there’s no wound to be found.

“You heal that quick?” Logan asks. You shake your head.

“Not usually.” You run your fingers over smooth skin. “Must have been your blood.”

“You think so?”

You shrug. “Just a guess. Never fed from someone with advanced healing factor.”

“You sayin’ I’m your first?” he asks with a smirk. You can’t help the laugh that escapes and his smirk stretches into a grin. Logan stands, fixing his pants and holding a hand out to help you up. 

“How am I supposed to get back into the mansion like this?” you ask, gesturing to your destroyed leggings. 

“Guess I didn’t think that through,” he admits. “Give me a few minutes and I can be back with some new clothes.”

“How are you going to get into my room?”

He turns to look at you, continuing to walk backwards.

“I’m a man of many talents.”

With a wink, he disappears through the trees. You sigh.

What have you gotten yourself into?

Thank you for reading!

LINKS

all masterlists | logan howlett masterlist | support for palestine

[piper-2244]

goodnight moon

how spencer turns college!reader's bad sleeping habits into very good sleeping habits.

MDNI | smut! word count: 1931 warnings & tags & stuff: fem reader, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), slightest teensiest bit of overstim, fluff to the moon, spence and reader just being sweet, spence just being obsessed and concerned with every little thing about reader authors note: hiiii. soooo this is TERRIFYING. why is smut soooooo scary and vulgar. but i've been working on this one for a long while and i think i'm happyish with it??? idk. its not really adding anything new or revolutionary to the world but i think its cute!! lemme know your thoughts. i think smut is something i'll get better at writing with time but yk. okay whatever have a lovely day and i hope you enjoy!!

There’s a noticeable tension in your shoulders as you lay down on top of the covers of your bed. Your face crushes into the soft down of many pillows, nose buried into the crevices. You trace out the clean smell of Spencer's shampoo that manages to linger on your sheets even after a week of him being away on a case, the fragrance making your head become even heavier with each deep inhale you take.

You can physically feel the exhaustion clawing at your soul. Eyes shut, blocking out the harsh shine of the overhead light you definitely forgot to turn off, you reach your arm up to work on the knot in your shoulder. You roll it back, feeling an unsettling click that probably shouldn’t be there. 

Spencer would be able to work the knot out like it was nothing, if he were here.

You shift your leg up, thinking. When did he say he’d be home earlier today? You had called him before your final exam this afternoon, for some encouragement and reminders on the principles of astronomy.

The all-consuming fog in your brain prevents you from remembering any of the important details of the conversation, such as when he’d be home, so you choose instead to just replay the soft I love yous he had said into your ear. 

By this point you’re sprawled across a good portion of your bed, back to the ceiling with one leg bent, head turned to the side. Your spine sinks down into the mattress, relieving the aches just a bit, and the sweet, sweet release of sleep ensues minutes later.

Until it gets quite rudely interrupted.

You don’t hear him enter the room. You haven’t even opened your eyes to see him. The only thing you notice when you wake is the feeling that you’re being picked up from your hips and rotated, a complete 180.

“Hello?” you ask loudly even before your eyes open.

When they do open, they see your lovely boyfriend standing above you, grimacing like he’s been caught. Spencer’s hands are holding you mid air, and you look at him, wildly confused, as you blink away the sleep in your eyes.

He’s still wearing his work clothes, the thick sweater vest that you got him last year for his birthday layered over his button-up. He must have just gotten inside, his bag was still crossed over his body. 

“Hi honey. What are you, um, doing?” you ask quietly. His nose scrunches in a cute attempt to push his glasses up his nose without using his already occupied hands.

“Hi. Sorry for waking you up.” He ducks down to kiss your forehead. “You just really shouldn’t be sleeping on your stomach. Bad sleeping posture can actually worsen chronic pain more than any other factor in your daily life,” he explains, setting you down but keeping a firm grasp on your waist. Your mouth forms an awkward little smile, matching his. “I had to intervene.”

“I know. It’s just so uncomfy. But why’d you pick me up? You could’ve just nudged me, or, you know, asked…” you grumble. You make room for him, however, as you speak. He sets his bag down and clambers into bed next to you, body seemingly rivaling yours in exhaustion. He leans against the headboard, turning his head to look at you.

“I wouldn’t normally do that, but I knew you were exhausted, so I figured you’d be less likely to wake up if your body was physically touching fewer things,” he justifies, logic drawing a soft giggle from you. You settle into a comfortable silence, the room still bathed in artificial light and Spencer still in his work clothes.

He eventually breaks the stillness after a minute, turning towards you. “How did your astronomy final go today?”

“I think I did alright. Our study sessions paid off, I think. But it was never my strong suit,” you reply, tracing your fingers over his leg. “I’m so achy now though. It’s strange what four hours of math can do to your body.” 

His hand slides up your arm in response, lightly pressing on the tense spots. 

“It’s strange what four hours of math and sleeping like a contortionist does to your body,” he corrects with his little know-it-all look, fingers circling a bit more firmly into your shoulder.

“I also really, really missed you,” you add, smiling back at him. “So be nice to me.”

“I missed you,” Spencer responds, even sweeter. “And I am being nice.”

You roll your eyes and he reaches over to kiss you gently. “Would you like me to be nicer?” he whispers softly. Your brain is all but short circuiting as you look at him, his eyes flitting between yours like he was searching the stars.

Your head is nodding even before you can actually realize what he means.

Then, his body is gone from yours. You stay silent, trying to regulate your breath, eyes following him as he stands and walks over to turn off the big light. Your eyes flicker to adjust, but with the moon’s gentle shine pouring into your window, it’s absolutely perfect. 

A blush, that you're hoping the new darkness will conceal, creeps up your cheeks when you see the soft outline of Spencer’s back as he takes off his sweater vest and pulls at his tie. He turns back and looks at you, eyes all soft and full of adoration. “Yeah? Not too tired?”

“Nope,” you murmur, convincing yourself as much as him. He finishes getting into his PJ’s and walks back to you. You straighten your back, trying to appear as awake as possible. “I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” he says back at you, voice gentle. “You can barely keep your eyes open.” A kiss, this one to your cheek, softens the blow of his words. You shake your head, but he continues. “You were sound asleep not even ten minutes ago, and you’ve yawned six times in the last five minutes.” His hand strokes the side of your waist.

“Spencer. I'm fine,” you huff. He smiles a little and sits next to you on the bed. His mouth is on yours, kissing you firmly, sweetly. 

A hand, always in motion, always calculated, slides up to your nape and presses you closer. The other slides down and thumbs under the hem of your top, grazing lightly over your skin, making it erupt in goosebumps.

His brow scrunches softly. “You’re so worked up.”

You stay silent, begging him with your eyes. He dips down and kisses right where he touched, and your hips lift a bit in response. 

“Honey. Lie back,” he says, and you do so. He readjusts his body so he’s on top of you, one leg slotted between yours. He kisses your forehead, cheeks, nose, and then moves down to your neck. He kisses that one spot beneath your ear that makes you gasp quietly. He then does it again, and again, and again, in that focused way of his. 

Wordlessly, he slides down further. His nose bumps underneath your belly button, in the thin stripe of skin showing where your top meets your panties. “Okay?” he asks.

“Yes. Please. Please, Spence,” you whimper softly, head feeling like a cloud of gas from the endorphins. He peppers even more kisses there and ghosts his fingers over your hip bone. He slides your panties down an inch and immediately kisses the skin that’s revealed.

“I thought about doing this to you all the time while I was away,” he murmurs. He presses another kiss more firmly on your hips, even closer to your soaked core, sucking gently and leaving a mark. “These should be off by now,” he muses, gently pulling your underwear down. 

His hand is immediately where you want it, two fingers pushing up against your folds, and to your clit. He touches in little circles, sending jolts of pleasure up your stomach, eyes looking up to yours to gauge your feelings. 

You almost hate Spencer for how fucking good it feels. You let out a soft moan, heart pounding. And when his middle finger sinks into your entrance with no word of warning, you toss your head back and close your legs around his hand. Spencer’s mouth twists into that little smile of his, pushing ever so deep into you, and says, “It feels better when you keep your legs open, sweet girl. If you need more, tell me.” You nod immediately, desperately. 

“Yeah. I need more,” you whisper, and he bends down and gives your clit a kitten lick. Your hand goes to his hair, softly pushing him closer. He gets the message and presses his tongue flat against it, eliciting a moan from you.

“You’re so pretty like this, under me. I missed you.”

You really do almost forget just how nice it was to have him on top of you after a week, telling you nice things and making you feel so good. He pushes his ring finger in to match his middle, stretching you slightly and adding pressure to where he knows it feels good. Your eyes screw shut and you furrow your brow in overwhelming pleasure, a soft exhale coming from deep within you.

“This good?” he asks, other hand coming to take care of your clit in his mouth’s absence. You nod frantically, looking down at Spencer. He watches where his hand comes in contact with you, pushing in and out at a steady pace. “You’re not normally this quiet. Is it a lot?”

“Yeah,” you whimper. “Feel so sensitive.” He presses a soft kiss onto your clit, and you jolt.

“Sweet girl. It’s been a little while, huh? Even right before I left, I didn’t use my mouth." You shake your head in agreement. “You’re doing so well for me though.” 

He resumes with his tongue, working you into oblivion. His free hand holds your hips steady, hindering you from writhing away from the mind-numbing pleasure.

His mouth is occupied and your brain is utterly ruined, so the only noises coming from the two of you are your soft exhales and whimpers, and the obscene sound of his hand pushing incessantly into you.

And eventually it does, in fact, become too much. He sends you into orbit. You lift your hips, practically pushing yourself into his face, pleasure coursing through you.

“Spence, I’m. I-” your voice gets caught in your throat. 

“I know,” he says, calm and collected. A stark contrast to whatever the fuck you’re feeling right now. 

He keeps going in the same way, steadily driving you through your orgasm. You let out one last moan and your body relaxes and limps around him, chest moving up and down rapidly. 

You come back to earth and grab his arm to tug him away. But he stays, pressing kisses all over you, watching you with his imploring eyes.

“You can take it. Missed you so much. Just one more,” he says in broken little sentences, parting with your core for just a second before resuming, hand picking up speed again. But this time, you don’t feel as awake. As alert. Your chest feels heavy, and your eyelids even heavier.

The post-orgasmic haze has settled even more into your bones, pressing you down deeper and deeper into the dark chasm of sleep once again.

The last thing you see before you succumb is the moon casting a perfect glow onto Spencer, still diligently pressing soft kisses onto you, holding your hips still so you won’t roll over in your sleep like before.

[fairyhaos]

how seventeen react to their s/o suddenly getting shy

requested by anon! u gotta read the full req for this to make sense really but oh god. it is So cute.

masterlist

seungcheol, dokyeom, seungkwan

unbelievably and adorably flustered when you admit u think he just looks really pretty rn and it's making you shy. makes those adorable whiny sounds going all “뭐야~” cuz he's so flustered by the fact that you like him so much. ridiculously pleased, and will tease you about it but he needs about 5 minutes to compose himself beforehand, which in turn gives you something to tease Him about :] it's literally not fair tho like how can you just say those things to his face likeee ?? wdym you get hit with the fact you're in love with him at random while he has to deal with this soul-crushing adoration every minute of the day???? 

jeonghan, joshua, hoshi

he's never letting you live it down. tilts his head when you look over at him and suddenly hide your face in your hands, wagging his eyebrows suggestively when you mumble that he just looked really pretty. then he laughs, utterly endeared, and just is constantly going “aww did you get flustered? you thought i looked handsome? look at you, you're so cute, getting all shy over me being your boyfriend 🥰” for a full ten minutes straight just to see you blush even more. will bring up this situation in conversations for the next seven years, a) because it's funny and b) because he really is quite touched that u think he's that cute

junhui, mingyu, chan

“aww babe that's so cute but guess what?? i have a crush on you tooooo!!!!” literally unfazed. giggles and flirts with you in an instant, like that's the most natural response to your comment. he is literally suchhhhh a loser when it comes to u bc he just loves you sososo much and like. what else is he supposed to do when u suddenly tell him that you have a crush on him? spends the rest of the day alternating between flirting heavily and reminding you again and again that he Also has a crush on you and that he likes you. a lot. like ridiculous amounts, you know? his crush on you is bigger than the universe, and he makes sure you Know It

wonwoo, woozi, minghao, vernon

you shyly admit that you're getting all embarrassed cuz you just realised that. you literally have a crush on ur boyfriend. and he smiles a bit, dryly raising an eyebrow. “i sure hope that you have a crush on me, because i don't wanna be the only one in this relationship with a crush.” he says it so matter-of-factly, the i have a crush on you too devastatingly clear in his voice and you can't help but get even more flustered, giddy by the fact that the person you like also likes you back. which should have been obvious, but it's always nice to get confirmation, you know? 

request guidelines

reactions tags: @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @newgirlygirl @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @wonranghaeee @yonabutnotyuna @crackedpumpkin @wqnwoos @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @icyminghao @valenhui @sweet-like-caramel @odxrilove @kyeomyun @chansburgah @pepperonijem @jeonride @kellesvt @kikohao @astrozuya @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @all-american-fangirl @f1uffyjun @sea-moon-star @nonononranghaee @isabellah29 @mcu-incorrect @hrts4hanniehae @suraandsugar @pan-de-seungcheol @dokyeomkyeom @melodicrabbit @bunnliix @bananabubble

[fartcloudfartcloud]

Logan Howlett x Squirter!Reader

oneshot (4.5k words) - You know how to make yourself squirt, but its no easy process. You just accepted your reality of it only happening once in a blue moon and only when you were alone. Maybe Logan can prove you wrong. pairing - logan howlett (xmen) x f!reader tags -first time sex, oral/fingering f recieving, lots of princess, baby, sweetheart, lots of logans filthy (and whiny) mouth, one swift bite, reader has boobs and a vagina and pullable hair, nondescript body other then a few thigh/hip descriptions, squirting obvi, lots of wet everywhere, lots of praise and begging from both parties, logan will not shut up

SEND ME REQUESTS AND SHIT!!!! I WANNA KEEP WRITING!!! GIVE ME IDEAS IM THIRSTY IM HUNGRY RAAAHHHG

this is self indulgent as shit and I havent written a fic and actually posted it since i was like 15 but that fic by @silverskyeline had me inspired because I may or may not be a squirter and i needed to write it for myself. i feel like this is kinda ass butt but i tried my best and i hope its bearable :)

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・..

The first time it happened, it caught you off guard. 

 Finding yourself alone in your home with some down time, you'd sat in your office chair, legs propped up on either side of the wood and headphones slipped over your ears as you scrolled through your options, clicking the first link that piqued your interest. It was how you preferred to masturbate these days, a deep voiced man slowly working you through it, your hands a mirror image of how the man describes his methods of pleasure through your headphones.  

It doesn’t take long before you’re lost in it, 13 minutes into the 24-minute audio and you've got one hand plowing your favorite dildo in and out in long, deep thrusts, angled exactly how you need it. the tip catches against your cervix and thumps up against your g spot in one fluid movement, your head thrown back in breathless euphoria. The voice switches between each ear, alternating as it groans praise and direction between its moans of pleasure. You’re choking on the feeling of it all, moans coming out in hiccups and cries as you desperately try to maintain some dignity. The voice slips into a gravely come on baby, rub that clit while I fuck you, cum on this cock sweetheart and suddenly your other hand joins the mix, sloppily rubbing circles into your drenched bud. The combo of the two motions, drilling yourself in mind numbing strokes with your one hand while your other sneaks down and rubs your clit, isn’t one you explore often.  

But God is it fucking good. 

In a flash your vision is white, it all hits you just as the voice in your ear instructs you. It’s all too much and good lord he starts counting down from 3, and somehow just as he’s growling one, baby cum for me, cum on this fucking dick, your back is arching, and your legs are shaking. Even with your head back and eyes rolled you could feel how sloppy you had gotten, drenched all the way up to you palm and wrist now. The sound was *filthy*, the audible noise of the floor beneath you getting drenched, your desperate gasps and attempts to stay quiet through the torment, and the sloppy plap… plap… of the toy inside you slowly coming to a halt.

That day your eyes were opened to a whole new world. It wasn’t easy, though, and it didn’t happen like it did in porn. Instead of a stream shooting out of you like a hose, it was more of a spray that splashed out with each thrust, and it only happened when you were splayed on your back like that pleasuring yourself exactly in that matter. You never considered yourself a squirter, per say. But it was a fun thing to brag about every now and then.  

it stayed something that happened between you and your toy, though. the one or two flings you'd had since the discovery never getting anywhere near the space or level of relaxation, you’d need to be in to make it happen, and you just accepted it to be something only you could only do on rare occasions alone in your bedroom. 

That was until Logan came along.  

The last thing you'd choose to describe Logan as a man was patient. He was short tempered and snippy, his first day in the mansion it seemed like his mission to piss everyone he saw off. But when he met you, he suddenly softened. When he told you were lucky you were pretty the first time you spoke, he meant it, not only suddenly capable of holding his tongue but speaking with a slowed assurance as he watched you. It wasn't a surprise to anyone when he quickly weaseled his way into your bed.  

Although maybe you'd bragged to a friend or two once it happened, you never thought to alert Logan of your talent. As stated, patience wasn’t exactly any term to describe Logan with, and you knew it wasn’t easy in the first place, so the thought never even crossed your mind. 

That was until he hovered over you, hands expertly holding your face and neck as he passionately locked his lips with yours.  

The way Logan kissed was suffocating, his big hands holding you in place as he mapped every inch of your mouth, huffing to himself every time a string of saliva or a well-timed lick would make you whimper. He hadn't done anything but sit down and kiss you and you were already overwhelmed by him.

He pulled away to stare at you intensely, memorizing every bit of the filthy frame in front of him. He had you laid out underneath him, your pretty eyes blown out and wide, looking up at him as if he was your world, your hands needily grabbing at his tank top.  

"Please Logan," you whimper, leaky eyes never leaving his for even a moment.  

"I haven't even done anything yet, and you're already begging," he teased as he lifted your chin up to start gently laying kisses down it. You keep a hold of his forearms as he leaves wet pink spots all the way down to where your top lies, grounding yourself in his warmth as he sends shivers down your spine. He stops, grumbling at the article of clothing stopping him from devouring you. 

"Use your big boy words," you tease with a smirk, pushing your chest towards him and sensually touching his chest and collarbone. Instead of using said big boy words, he growled a deep "Off." as he flicked at the silky bow nestled against your breasts.

You sigh, your efforts for null.

"I'd ask you to just rip it off, but this is vintage," you pout as you make a show of lifting off the fabric. He raised an eyebrow, half his mind shocked at the way you tease him so effortlessly, the other half wrecked by your suggestion, an image of him pouncing on you and ripping the beautiful lac top off with his claws like an animal.

It started a fire in his stomach, one that was quickly ignited by the view of your breast's falling from the tops confines as you pulled it over your head. In his eyes, they fall in slow motion, each ripple sending shockwaves down his back as he watching them sway with your movement. 

Maybe the idea of ripping that pretty top off with his claws hit a little too close to home, because in a flash he's on you. He's pushing you back with a firm hand to the sternum, using it to hold you in place against the mattress as he desperately kisses down the side of your neck and to your sternum.

"Smell so fucking good," he huffs out as he kisses down your clavicle before latching his lips around your slowly hardening nipple. The feeling makes your back arch and your breath hitch, a combo that had Logan popping a sly grin between his kitten licks to your now stiff bud.  

"You say that all the time," you moan out breathlessly as he flicks his tongue. He pulls away with a pop, inching up to your ear and whispering into it.

"Sorry, let me correct myself," he leans down, sultry gaze inches from your face as he growls,

"She smells so fucking good," into your ear as he cups your mound through your shorts. You should've known in that moment you were cooked, stomach aching with how badly you needed him and hips instantly trying to buck into his wrist. He laughs at your attempt and pulls away his palm, much to your dismay. 

"Don't talk about what my vagina smells like," you giggle, hiding your red face from him,

"Why not? s' like peaches, sweetheart. wanna just split you open and-" he finishes his statement but tugging your head back and exposing the column of your throat, licking a long stripe from between your breast's all the way up and under your ear, his warm hand back cupping your mound and massaging the fat through your shorts.

Your breath is robbed as his mouth leaves a wet trail that cools in the air and send a shiver down your spine. Logans mouth latches back onto your erect nipples, this time your skin tingling and buzzing with sensitivity,

"shit- I need more baby, please," you plead helplessly as your hands roam over Logans shoulders and forearms, his mouth slowly working down your body with kisses and licks. 

"Need what, darling," he replies, his eyes flitting up to yours deviously. You don't respond, instead opting to roll your hips up against his, hoping he'd show mercy upon seeing your desperation. You should've known better. He pins your hips down, gripping the fat of your waist with a rough palm and letting out a displeased grunt as he teases you. 

 "Use your big girl words," he says with a smile, using your own words against you.

You desperately try to retaliate, your palms playfully smacking against his chest and legs kicking while you giggle and yelp,

"You can't- you fucker!" You pleade, before your limbs are quickly pinned down at your sides, your legs now pinned under his as his mouth is back at your ear, stopping you dead in your tracks as he growls. I takes a shaky deep breath, regaining his composure and savoring your smell before he speaks.   

"Just tell me what I want to hear so I can taste this fucking pussy, eh sweetheart? you're killing me here," his voice becoming almost whiny at the end as he grips at your hips and grinds his visibly strained bulge against your thigh. His words shoot a shiver to your core, his brazenness too much for your foggy mind,

"Please just fucking- eat me out Logan!" you whine, hips chasing his in a desperate chase for contact. He grips your face, palm rough and big holding you in place and making you gooey and submissive as he talks, 

"See? Was that so hard, bub?" he quirked with teasing grin before kissing your cheek and diving down to your hips. His arms wormed their way under your thighs, head popping up to admire the way your athletic shorts squeeze the fat of your thighs around his head. The tight shorts accentuated your curves, settling into the creases in your thighs and hips and sending a shiver down his spine as he traces his finger along the seam. 

Suddenly, Logan is biting you. If you asked him why, he's not sure he could tell you, but the spot just under your stomach where your thigh meets your hip looked too appetizing not to sink his teeth into. It's gentle and playful, he growls and shakes his head like a dog with a bone and it makes you squeal and swat at his back again. You tie your hands into his hair and pull him up, a big goofy grin on his face as he peers up at you through his thick lashes, clearly having no remorse for his actions as he licks his lips and teeth.

Jesus Christ hes so hot.

He swats your hands out of his hair, desperate and feral for the taste of you in his mouth. The man wastes no time sinking his face back down and into your thigh, hands gripping you firmer now, pinning you down as he growled and nestled your inner thigh with his stubble. He looks like a little kitty cat, headbutting you to coat you in his scent, fingers kneading and savoring the thick of your hips. 

"Just let me play with you how I want to baby," he whines, the lilt to his voice a little surprising. It feels like the longer you tease him, the whinier he gets. Interesting. 

You pat his hair in apology and scratch his scalp, his head now laying on your thigh as he strokes your stomach. “You can't bite me, Lo!” You giggle as you scold him. He props his chin up on your stomach and pays no mind to your scolding. "Shhh baby, just take these off," the man lazily orders from his spot on your tummy, just barely lifting his head enough to give you space to pull your shorts off. You wiggle out of them with no help from Logan. He’s much too busy taking in every inch of the scene in front of him, eyes glued to your hands as they reveal your lacy pink underwear barely an inch from his face. 

 He could drool with how bad he needs to taste you.  

You don't even get your shorts all the way off your ankle before he's pinning your hips down and raking your pretty pink panties to the side, latching his mouth over your mound and licking a thick firm stripe from the bottom of your slit all the way through to the tip of your clit. You gasp and grab at his shoulders, a slow “fuuuuck,” falling from your lips as he slowly tastes you. 

He’s completely enamored by you, your smell, your taste, the way your look, the way each muscle in your thighs flexes with just the one lick. You look so fucking good like this it makes him angry. 

"So fucking pretty," he spits, overwhelmed by his own rush of feelings settling in his stomach. He opts to ignore it by digging his face into you pussy, using his tongue to tease your clit slowly in circles before sliding over your glistening hole, savoring the way your slick tastes on his lips and tongue as he teases your entrance.  

"Shit-" it comes out desperate and whiny from your lips as you roll your hips into his face, his nose clipping your clit as he explores your slit. The sensation makes your heels dig into the bed and your eyes flutter back with a gasp, your hands pulling on strands of the man's hair. He teases you like this, switching between circling your clit and pushing softly through your slit till you've thoroughly soaked his face with a mixture of his spit and your slick.

He raises his head with a feral growl, looking as if he's pulling away from his feast as he spits on your clit and spreads it around with his fingers. He chuckles while you squirm, kissing your thigh where his pink bite mark stains it.  

"You ready, princess?" He asks, the nickname makes you shiver. You ignore his question and the implications of it, more focused on desperately trying to roll your pinned hips into his mouth, huffing with defeat as neither his hands nor your hips budge. He chuckles at your little tantrum, sitting up and peeling your damp panties away from your core. A soft kiss is delivered to your ankle before settling back into position between your legs. 

A chuckle and a shake of his head is all the warning you get before hes sealing his mouth around your clit and sucking, swirling and swiping his tongue around the bud while pinning you in place. It's different.

This time he's got the whole bud suctioned into his mouth, lips and tongue and pressured sucks all swirling it in an abusing pattern. The only sound heard in the room is his wet mouth on you, any attempts at making sound robbed from you as he lathes his filthy attack on you.

You gasp and squirm to no avail, his name dying on your tongue when you manage to catch a gulp of air, your head thrown back in a silent plea. His pace doesn't falter, he doesn't unstick himself from your clit for even a moment, doesn't switch between his tongue or fingers or where he uses them, just one consistent attack as he focuses every ounce of his attention on pleasuring you. it's precise, masterful, dare you say practiced even, in the way has drawing you up. You'd have half the mind to call him a name, call him some sort of whore for knowing the ins and outs of a woman's body so meticulously. Unfortunately for you, your mind is blank as he pulls away to swap his hold on you, instead using one arm to hold you across the stomach while his other ventures down to your opening. 

"Logan!" You gasp as he pulls off of you for the first time in what feels like ages, giving you a second to breathe and relax. Well, not relax per say, as Logan is underneath you giggling and gently caressing you from bottom to top.

"Gotta make sure it's all wet baby," he slurs, already pussydrunk as he spits onto your slit and rubs it all over. At this point you were dripping, probably all the way down your seam and onto to the bed if you had to guess, especially you combined with Logans sloppy mouth. The action was redundant, yet filthy none the less, and disgustingly sexy. You fall onto your back and cover your face, groaning and rolling your hips again as you catch your breath,  

"You're driving me fucking crazy, Logan," you whimper into the pillow. He’s laughing at you again, kissing just above your clit as he peeps out a tender, "I know baby." He uses his firm hands to massage your thighs, your hips, even using his knuckles down your arms until you've relaxed deep into the bed.

One last kiss is placed onto your thigh before he latches his mouth back over your slit, groaning and relaxing into you like he just took a big draw from a fresh cigar.

He had played you like a damn fiddle, his little break had your muscles relaxing and allowed some air back into your lungs, and now suddenly every movement feels 10x better.

You're hyper aware of every touch, the way his tongue circles your nub before roughly grinding down out it, milking moans from your lips with expertise. He hadn't even brought his fingers back down to your opening yet, still bare and leaking from moments ago when he left you high and dry, yet you were already past the point of no return. Your stomach was tightening, your hands desperately grabbing whatever they could find before deciding on hiding your face in the pillow, successfully concealing your moans and savoring your dignity.

Logan pulled away from your core with a pop, looking to see what had caused the noises he was savoring so sincerely to suddenly stop. He was not happy to see your face covered, not only blocking those pretty sounds but covering your orgasmic expressions too. 

“Uh-uh princess. Need to hear it all, and I wanna see those pretty eyes too,” He pleads, big hands coming up to pull your hands to the side and away from the pillows. He places both your wrists on your stomach, his one hand big enough to pin them both with little issue. 

He grumbles something about interruptin’ me as he dives back into your core. You can practically see his ears perk back up as he hears your beautiful noises again, his tongue going straight back to its mind-numbing circles. He finally gives you mercy and brings his free hand down, two thick fingers running up and down your slit, making sure they're thoroughly soaked in slick before he's pressing them in. The ridges of his thick fingers massage your walls as they're gently worked in and out in slow strokes, the sound and feeling of Logans mouth and hands combined serving to be absolutely pornographic, and your desperate moans doing little to help.

“Logan~” you gasp in delight as the pairing of the two sensations start to settle back into your core, every sensation elevated 20-fold. He’s so unrelenting with the motions of it all, hooking his fingers and pushing them up until it feels like he's stimulating your clit from both sides. You could practically see stars, languid moans turning into breathless gasps again, your hands flexing and twitching against their spot against your stomach, desperate to grab onto him or his hair or the sheets or anything.  

A filthy, “mph- hah! Just a- little more Logan!” eeks past your tense throat, your whole body overwhelmed with the feeling of him taking over every one of your senses.

“Come on princess, wanna see you cum for me,” He growls. it's so deep and attractive, and when he halts the stimulation to your clit to speak, he makes up for it by absolutely slamming his fingers into the soft spot on the roof of your pussy. You were lost, mind completely succumb to him, completely lost in the pleasure his giving you.

“Getting so tight around my fingers, baby. Just let it wash over you, don't think ‘bout nothing but how good im makin' you feel.” He moans breathlessly, having no clue what his words are doing to you. It's all too much, and before you realize it there's a familiar burn in your core, the sounds of his fingers getting louder and sloppier as more of your slick coats his fingers in an all too familiar feeling. You try to alert the man between your legs, try to tell him if he keeps fucking doing that with his fingers you're going to fucking ruin his sheets, but your pleas only serve to fuel him. 

 Your gasps and calls of his name do nothing to slow his motions, his biceps rippling as he doubles his efforts,

“Lo- fuck- im-!” your pleas come out in unintelligible gasps, not enough air in your lungs to beg anymore, the sounds of your arousal getting filthier and filthier. The crest up to your peak has you crying and squeezing Logans sideburns into the inner skin of your thighs, your whole body shaking as he works you to your breaking point, hands pulling and scratching just a little too hard as it all comes crumbling down. All you can hear is sloshing and wet sounds as your vision goes white.  

Your orgasm bulldozes you, your throat parched from how hard you're gasping for air, your limbs sore and twitching as his fingers and tongue work you through the aftershocks. It's all gentle touches and deep gasps of air as you slowly let the stars behind your eyes fade. 

You let out a long groan as you steadily come to, body paralyzed flat against the mattress, mustering up enough energy to lift your head and look down at the man of the hour. He’s removed himself from you and is sat up on his knees, the sight paired with the biggest shit eating grin you've ever seen spread across his face. His hair is tousled and falling over his forehead, his chin still dripping with evidence of your climax. His chin and his hands. And down his neck. And all over his T-shirt, the white neckline of his tank now completely transparent. 

“Shit-” is all you can say as you see what's happened, hand coming up to cover your face, apologizing to Logan as you scramble up.

“Fuck, let me get a towel logan I'm sor-” “woah woah woah where do you think you're going?” he interrogates as he lays a hand against your chest, stopping you in your tracks and looking at you softly, 

 “Your soaked Logan, I- I didn't- should've told you, I need to get a towel,” you scramble from underneath him, legs shaking and sensitive as they carry you to the bathroom. He shakes his head as he follows behind, unable to stop you as you scatter away from him and into the next room, a woman on a mission to scrub the world of the evidence of your debauchery. He watches from the doorway, his arm over his head as he leans against the door frame with a cocky smirk as you frantically grab a towel and dampen a washcloth. You turn to leave, looking up at him with a scowl as he blocks your path. 

“Ya know I'm supposed to be the one doing all this, princess?” He teases, face still coated in you and glistening in the light. You bring the damp wash cloth up to his jaw and start whipping him down, at least tackling one part of the cleaning process if he wasn't going to let you pass into the bedroom.

“I’m the one who made the mess, Logan,” you remind him, patting the wetness from his stubble. He chuckles, grabbing the towel from your other hand and halting the hand scrubbing his face with a firm hand around your wrist.

"Yeah, but I made it happen. Wheres my credit, bub?" You watch shamefully as he turns and places the towel over the wet spot on the bed, hanging the damp cloth over the bed frame and looking back at you expectantly. You hang your shoulders lower,  

“Logan that's not- we need to change the sheets, and you need new clothes and-” “shhh, just come here and lay down with me princess,” he coos, his naivety and dismissal of your feelings starting to frustrate you.

He approaches you with outstretched arms, coming over to loop them around your shoulders and walk you towards the mattress. You stop short of the bed, turning towards him to continue your arguing before he grabs your face with his palm, gently squeezing your cheeks into a pout and effectively stopping any defiance you had. His other hand wraps around your waist as he leans into your ears and speaks lowly,  

“I don't know what kind of nonsense you've got in this pretty head of yours,”

he taps your forehead with his forefinger before placing it in your hair, soaking in your gasp as he gently yanks your head back,

“but you're not leaving until I see that,” he refers to the wet spot causing you grief, “at least one more time.”

He possessively grabs your ass, pulling you firmly against him, your breath taken as he speaks into your ear. His teasing eases your worries, and his hands on you definitely help as well.

“So, I think we forget about the sheets,” you both chuckle, your cheeks flushed as he grabs you and growls.

“And you let me play with this pretty pussy till I figure out exactly how she ticks . Sound good to you, baby?” he asks, pulling back with his eyebrows quirked and lips pulled up into a dangerous leer.

You look small in his arms, the roller coaster of emotions leaving you feeling vulnerable and submissive as you softly shake your head up and down, core heating all the way back up for him.

He smiles and brings you into a tender kiss, hands roaming your body and down your arms, grabbing your wrists and placing your palms on his chest. He praises you with gentle whispers of so beautiful, my girl, need you, as he walks you backwards to sit on the edge of the bed.

The kiss turns more heated with every passing moment, his tongue working any shame out of your mind and replacing it with that beautiful heat of pleasure only he can have given you. He pulls away from you, a string of saliva connecting your lips as he pulls that same lopsided grin you've been slowly falling in love with.  

“Think I could make you squirt like that on my dick, princess?” He asks bodely, making you snort as your face gets hot, “um, I don't know usually... it's pretty hard.” He chuckles and runs his hands over your thighs.

“Didn't seem too hard to me,” he teases slyly, making you hide your face in his chest with a giggle. He kisses the crown of your head, muttering a soft, “I'll go get some more towels,” before wandering back into the bathroom, your eyes glued on his somehow still fully clothed from. You flush red again as he walks out with 2 more towels, laying them across the mattress and crawling towards you with a hungry glare. You were in for a long night. 

[eloriis]

OPPOSITE - charles leclerc

in which. . y/n l/n was everything charles leclerc wanted, until he didn’t — cl16 x singer! reader

notes : first post in sososososo long!! hope u guys like it and it does well 🤞🏼

and NO HATE towards alex! i ADORE her smm but i needed someone to match the description that sabrina gave in her song

type : smau ⋆ face claim : sabrina carpenter

december 16, 2019

liked by charles_leclerc, francisca.cgomez and 15,547,396 others

y/nuser it’s so romantic in paris 🤍🖤

tagged: charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc all because of you mon amour 🌙

y/nuser je t'aime ☀️

user6 THE MOON AND SUN??

francisca.cgomez BABE?? THE HAIR?? THE DRESS?? OMG IM DYING

y/nuser KIKAAAAA ILYSMMM MWAH MWAH

user1 A MAN?? OMG?? A VROOM VROOM GUY?? WOAHHHH

user2 they just became public and they’re already making me feel single 😔

user3 OH GOD WHAT?? OH GOD

user4 they’re lowkey cute 🤭🤭

user5 THE SOFT LAUNCH OF FUCKING 10 MONTHS HAS FINALLY ENDED I THANK EVERY DEITY I HAVE PRAYED TO FOR THESE PAST MONTHS 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

february 26, 2023

liked by charles_leclerc, gracieabrams and 10,375,984 others

y/nuser when in doubt, turn the piano on <3

tagged: charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc je t'aime, ma lune 🌙 ( i love u, my moon )

y/nuser je t'aime plus, mon soleil ☀️ ( i love u more, my sun )

user1 the moon and sun duo is back ☹️

user2 SHE LOOKS SO PRETTY UGH

user3 the note :(

user4 did charles write that for her?

user5 i don’t think so, i’m pretty sure that’s her handwriting

user6 the second pic made me feel so single

gracieabrams ARE WE GETTING A NEW SONG??

y/nuser IDK ARE YOU??

user7 WHAT WHAT WHAT

user8 Y/N PLS WE ALL BEG, WE’VE BEEN STARVED FOR TOO LONG

user9 if they break up, i’m going to stop believing in love.

march 14, 2023

liked by user1, user2 and 585,697 others

f1updates ferrari driver, charles leclerc caught with mystery woman who is not popstar y/n l/n!

charles and y/n have been in a relationship for almost 5 years. they made their relationship public on december 16 in 2019 after 10 months of dating. they seemed to be deeply in love with each other so what might have been the reason for charles to be caught with a different woman?

let us know your thoughts and feelings on this in the comment section below.

tagged: y/nuser, charles_leclerc

user1 what the fuck? charles what the actual fuck is wrong with you?

user2 i can’t believe the nerve of this man?? FIVE FUCKING YEARS?? down the drain just because he couldn’t keep it in his pants

user3 both charles and the girl are in the wrong because while y/n and this creature kept majority of their lives together private, they still posted about each other regularly so it’s not possible that the girl didn’t know that charles was taken

user4 the audacity of this man? his girlfriend is at the studio most likely writing a song for him and this man is out in the broad daylight cheating on her??

user5 studio?

user4 yeah, she was caught walking into a studio a while before this was posted

user5 fuck bro, that’s so sad

user6 everyday i wake up and wonder where the fuck do men get the audacity to do this shit and stay sane

user7 i’m actually speechless right now. all i can say is poor y/n, she looks so in love with him whenever they’re together and then this man pulls this shit

user8 we were about to get another song about y/ncharles :(

user9 i haven’t just lost faith in men, i’ve lost faith in love as well

march 14, 2023

ynssecretlife has removed sharleclair as a follower

ynssecretlife has unfollowed sharleclair

ynssecretlife has just posted a story! tap to view.

seen by lanthedodo, liliesareme, georgewashingmachine and 98 others

view story replies:

lanthedodo y/n/n, i’m so so so sorry. i promise u NONE of us knew about this

lanthedodo we are all always here for you ❤️

liliesareme y/n bby:( i’m coming over rn

alexisalbono i’m so sorry, lily and are the otw

view more story replies.

y/nuser has deleted 30 posts from their account.

may 25, 2023

liked by charles_leclerc, user39 and 674,694 others

alexandrasaintmleux in paris with amour ⭐️

tagged: charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc the star to my sun

liked by author

user1 this is very similar to the post made by y/n

user2 the nicknames. that hurts me :(

user2 the audacity of these two. ch*rles got bored of the moon so he moved onto another star. honestly fuck off dude.

user3 beautiful couple 😍 ( i giggled at this )

user4 girlie is trying wayyyy too hard to be like y/n…🤓

june 6, 2023

liked by taylorswift, lilymhe and 21,854,297 others

y/nuser i’ve kept all of you guys starved for too long now </3

from my heart to yours, ‘opposite’ is now out 💌

taylorswift i’m so proud of you bby 💗

y/nuser tyy 🤍

lilymhe sobbing, breaking down, screaming, crying, on the floor, breaking dishes

y/nuser LILY BBY 😭😭

alex_albon she’s not even joking. there’s actually broken dishes on the floor and she’s about to flood the living room with her tears

lilymhe shut up. no one asked you 🥰❤️

maxverstappen1 you did so well with this song! proud of you y/n/n 💙

y/nuser tyy so much maxie 🫶🏼🫶🏼

user1 MOTHER IS SO BACK

user2 MIGHT AS WELL SNATCH MY HEART OUT AND STAMP ON IT ATP

liked by landonorris and francisca.cgomez

user3 you did so well y/n, we are all so proud of you for being strong and loving 🤍

liked by lilymhe, francisca.cgomez, iamrebbecad, kellypiquet and 157,286 others

y/nuser thank you so so much, i love all of you so much 🫶🏼

[hintsofhoney]

Mine

Paring(s): Alpha!Dean Winchester x F!Omega!Reader

Summary: When Dean is forced to mark Y/N in order to not blow their cover on a case, it leads him to reveal a secret that he's been keeping since they met.

Square(s) Filled: biting for @anyfandomkinkbingo

Tags: 18+, true mates, smut, p in v, marking, a/b/o if that wasn't already obvious lmao, knotting

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: Helloooo, it's been a minute. If I'm being honest, I have about 10-15 finished works just sitting in my "ready to post" folder, but posting is always such an ordeal, so they just stay there until I feel like dealing with Tumblr. But, this one I did write over the last two days after I finished reading Bride by Ali Hazelwood, which I loved so much that it made me want to dip my toes into the Omegaverse! That being said, I don't know how much in here is actually in line with A/B/O "rules", but I know I needed to twist some things to fit the story (e.g. in this specific A/B/O fic/universe, claiming marks will fade if they're not true mates). Huge thank you to my A/B/O girlies, @makeadealwithdean and @emoryhemsworth, for reading it over, I love you both to the moon and back! I hope you all enjoy!

You can also read me on Ao3!

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST |  SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST |  MAIN MASTERLIST

“We get in, find the knife, get out, got it?” Dean asks, looking between Sam in the front seat and Y/N in the back, making sure everyone is on the same page. They both nod once in understanding, before the three of them make their way out of the car, their doors slamming shut simultaneously. 

Y/N stares up at the mansion before them, the music loud, the party raging. It’s some charity event thrown by the wealthiest Alpha in the state, and he just happens to have the weapon they need to finish out this hunt. Y/N stumbles a bit, tripping over the cobblestone driveway in her heels, and she catches the sleeve of Dean’s suit to steady herself. He shoots her a glare that tells her to pull it together. They need to blend in.

“Sorry,” she whispers.

“Here,” Dean replies, grabbing her wrist and pulling it through the crook formed by his bent elbow, forcing them to walk arm-in-arm.

“I don’t need –”

“You are an Omega, Y/N. And there are upwards of a hundred Alphas here who can all smell it. So what you need to do is start acting like one. Just because I’m not some asshole Alpha who demands your respect doesn’t mean they aren’t, and we can’t risk drawing attention to ourselves.”

Y/N takes a deep breath and plasters on a fake smile as they move slowly up the driveway. “Anyone who demands my respect just because of some bullshit biological hierarchy doesn’t deserve it,” she grits out.

Dean stops, turning to face her, one of his hands on either side of her biceps. “Do you want to be on this case or not?” 

His voice is lower than usual, demanding and gruff. A voice he only uses when he wants to remind her that he is an Alpha, and bullshit biological hierarchy aside, her body is wired to listen to him. 

She gulps, and he tries not to focus on the bob in her throat, the pulse in her neck near her gland, the scent of her. The moment he met her he knew who she was, what they were. Are. He’s been taking scent blockers since before he met her, finding it far easier to interact with other Alphas when investigating cases if they couldn’t scent him out, but the moment he met her, he knew he had to start taking rut blockers too. Though, it feels like the longer he’s around her, the more immune he becomes to the pills. Like she’s going to send him into a rut any fucking second, and she has no idea. He’s thought about telling her so many times, but mates come with strings. Strings that aren’t conducive to the life of a hunter.

“Yes,” she answers his question meekly, almost submissively, and he nods to cover the hormones he forces himself to swallow down. Rejecting your biology is not easy, no matter how many pills you take.

“Then I’m going to need you to take my arm, put on a smile, and act like being an Omega is the greatest joy of your life. That means –”

“I know how to be a good little Omega, Dean,” she interrupts, dragging the words ‘good little Omega’ through a sarcastic tone.

He tenses slightly at her words, sarcastic or not. Good little Omega.

“I’m only bad for you,” she continues with a cheeky wink, and fuck, he might explode. Hell, he might take her into the bushes right now and mark her, claim her, before parading her around in front of this entire fucking party with his teeth marks on her neck. He’s rigid, trying to keep himself under control, and she gives him a playful pat on his shoulder. “Lighten up, Alpha,” she teases. “I’ll be a good girl.”

Jesus fucking Christ. He gives her biceps a squeeze that he hopes comes off as reassuring as he’s trying to make it seem, before linking his arm with hers once more and catching up to Sam at the front of the driveway.

The trio is greeted by the owner of the mansion himself, one Jim Myers, who welcomes them in with a smile on his face and a cigar in his hand. 

“How Gatsby-esque,” Y/N mutters under her breath, watching as Myers shakes Sam’s hand.

Dean nods in agreement. “You definitely wore the right outfit.”

Y/N blushes as she looks down at her dress; a black, semi body-hugging cocktail dress bedazzled with gold sequins in some sort of art deco pattern. All she’s missing is a cigarette holder and a feather in her hair. 

“Only because I read the invitation. Unlike some of us,” she mumbles in reply.

“Watch it, Omega,” Dean grits out, plastering on a smile as soon as Myers comes over to greet him.

“Jim Myers, pleasure,” he says, shaking Dean’s hand.

“Dean. And this is Y/N.”

She keeps the cordial smile on her face as Jim takes her hand and brings it to his lips, kissing it gently before inhaling her scent. 

“Pleasure, Miss Y/N,” he says with a feral grin, his eyes darkening with unmistakable lust as he lets her hand fall back to her side. 

Dean takes a step forward, unable to stop himself. “Mine,” he practically growls, and Jim takes a step back, throwing his hands up in surrender. 

“My apologies. I didn’t see a mark, so I just assumed.”

Dean falters, clearing his throat, suddenly reminded of the reason they’re all here in the first place. “No, that’s alright. It’s my fault for not putting it in a visible place.” His eyes dart over to Y/N’s. “I think I’m gonna fix that.”

She ducks her head but can’t hide the red flush that creeps up into her cheeks, reminding herself that it’s just her biology, and that this is all for show anyway. They’re here to do a job, and sometimes those jobs involve… well, whatever the hell just happened. And clearly, Dean is a better actor than she gives him credit for.

Jim chuckles, clasping his hands together. “Well, you three have fun, the drinks are free, the food is good, and if you,” he points at Sam, “good sir, are in search of an Omega, there are plenty to choose from.”

Sam blushes. “Right.” He nods. “Thanks.”

And with that, Jim disappears into the crowd.

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Sam says. “You two go. Upstairs, down the hall, third door on the right. If I got the right blueprints.”

“If you got the right blueprints?” Dean asks.

“Just go.” He taps his ear to indicate that he’ll drop in on Dean’s earpiece if anything goes wrong. 

Dean sighs, taking Y/N by the hand and leading her up the stairs. He weaves in and out of the crowd, the scents of everyone mixing together, making it impossible to decipher who is what. Y/N’s never been more glad to be on heat suppressors; knowing full well the scents of this many Alphas invading her nostrils would send her body into a major one.

Dean quickly finds the door, and they slip into the room unnoticed, closing the barrier and switching on the light. It’s a bedroom — the master, from the looks of it — and the knife is right in front of them in the middle of the room, across from the foot of the bed. It’s in a glass case, on display, and likely armed with a million alarms, but right in front of them nonetheless. 

“Son of a bitch,” Dean mutters, running a hand through his hair as he thinks about what the next move should be.

“We could find something that weighs the same? Lift the glass and replace it super fast?” Y/N offers.

“Unfortunately, I think it’s the glass that’s probably set to trip an alarm. But the fact that you’re applying Indiana Jones to real life scenarios is making me want to —” 

He stops himself, realizing what he was about to say. He needs to get himself under control but Y/N in that dress with her smart fucking mouth, with other Alphas eyeing her, he really shouldn’t be here, with her, alone, and —

“Making you want to what?” she asks.

Shit. “Making me want to… make you watch more of them,” he replies, opting to circle the display case, searching it for a way in to distract himself from her. 

“Oh, goody. Can’t wait.” She’s as monotone and sarcastic as ever, and every time something smart comes out of her mouth he has to resist the urge to bend her over and fuck her right then.

“Get out of there now,” Sam’s voice comes in on Dean’s earpiece. “Lost track of him for a few seconds, just found him again. He’s making his way upstairs.”

“Shit,” Dean says. “Shit, shit, shit.” He looks around the room frantically. If they go out the door, Myers will without a doubt see them leaving his room. “Myers is coming,” he explains to a confused-looking Y/N.

“Fucking — God dammit.” She looks around too, for a hiding spot, for a weapon, and then she spots herself in the mirror hanging on the wall and an idea comes to her. “Mark me,” she orders.

“What?” Dean snaps, his attention fully on her.

“Get over here and mark me. You told him you were going to make it visible.” She continues before Dean can protest. “Who knows if it’ll even stay, it’s not like we’re mates, right? And if it does, I don’t mind being bound to you for the rest of ever. It’s not like I’m having much luck in the relationship department anyway. But we need that knife, and we’re not going to get it if we don’t –”

“Fuck,” he says under his breath with a quick shake of his head, before he strides across the room and pushes her up against the wall just in time to hear the door click. He inhales her scent, his mouth trailing from the base of her jaw all the way down to her mating gland where it hovers as the door opens all the way. Then he bites down.

Y/N throws her head back, her fingers digging into Dean’s shoulders as his teeth sink into her, and none of it is for show. The pain is euphoric, and her senses heighten, and she suddenly wishes she hadn’t been so stringent on taking her fucking pills, because whatever this feeling is, coursing through her veins, settling in her core, she needs to feel it more. She can’t stand how dulled it is, how it just stays there, simmering underneath the surface. She wants to erupt. 

“Mm, fuck, Alpha!” she cries out, no trace of sarcasm in her voice, and Dean’s hands grip her hips tight enough to bruise them. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Jim exclaims. “Got an alert that someone was in here, there’s some very valuable things in here, you see, and I just wanted to make sure —”

Dean pulls away from her neck long enough to shoot him a glare that translates to “get out or I’m going to kill you”, and Jim gets the message, backing out the door and shutting it behind him. 

“Fuck,” Dean breathes, letting his forehead fall to Y/N’s shoulder. He shouldn’t be so close to her. He should back away, give himself some space to breathe. But her scent keeps him rooted in place. It’s her usual scent; something like freshly baked sugar cookies and vanilla, sweet and enticing, but there’s something else, something —

“Are you guys okay?” Sam’s voice in his damn ear again.

Dean lifts his head and presses the button on his earpiece to reply. “Fine, Sam. Give us a second.” Then he takes the earpiece out and tosses it over his shoulder, more agitated than he should be at his brother just trying to check in.

“Dean,” she breathes, and she sounds absolutely wrecked. She brings her hands to his cheeks, forcing him to look at her. “Are you okay?” 

He nods. Her touch is like fire on his skin. He needs her. 

Y/N squeezes her thighs together. She’s never been able to scent Dean before, but he’s never been this close for this long. He’s never marked her, either. Right now his scent is breaking through the suppressants, little by little. It’s bits of cedar and leather and whiskey, and she’s never smelt anything like it, yet it is so familiar somehow. It invades her senses, and if this is what he smells like with suppressants, she’s terrified of what would happen without them.

“Dean… your scent.” She closes her eyes and inhales deeply.

“Fuck, my pills must’ve worn off, I —”

She shakes her head. “It’s dulled but… but it’s there.” Her thighs clench together again, and she needs him back on her skin. “It’s there and it’s so fucking good.”

Dean’s eyes fall to the gland on her neck, and the severity of what he’s done comes crashing into him like a wrecking ball. It’s enough to force him to take a step away from her, panic rising in his chest. “I – fuck. I marked you. I fucking marked you.”

Y/N’s fingers come up to graze the indent on her neck, and she shudders at the touch. “I told you to.”

“No, you don’t understand, Y/N –”

“I know what happens when mates get marked, Dean,” she interrupts matter-of-factly. “I’m sure this’ll fade.”

“It won’t. I – I shouldn’t have done that. Fuck. Fuck!” He turns to the wall next to him, hitting it with the side of his closed fist. 

“Dean.” Her touch on his arm is gentle and comforting, but he doesn’t turn to face her. “You need to calm down. It’s really not a big deal, I –”

Dean takes a deep breath, both hands on the wall now as he collects himself. He can’t even bring himself to look at her when he says, “You’re my mate, Y/N.”

She takes a step back, and her fading scent is what makes him finally face her. She’s halfway across the room by the time he does. 

“W-what do you mean?”

“You’re my mate, Y/N,” he repeats.

She shakes her head, her hand coming to her neck again, the teeth marks seared into her skin. “N-no. H-how? When? How – how long have you known?”

Dean takes another long, deep breath. He could lose her tonight. She could run and never come back and he wouldn’t blame her. “Since we met.”

“THREE YEARS!?” she roars. “YOU’VE KNOWN FOR THREE FUCKING YEARS!?”

“Y/N, I –”

She stalks toward him, one finger outstretched, one fist clenched by her side. She points at him as she backs him into a wall, and he’s incredibly turned on and incredibly scared at the same time. 

“You’ve known that we’re fucking mates for three years, and you didn’t feel as though that was pertinent fucking information to tell me!?”

Dean swallows. “I – it’s – there are… strings with mates. You know that. I didn’t want to ball and chain you. I didn’t want to keep you anywhere you didn’t want to be. And if – fuck – we’re hunters, Y/N. If something had happened to me, and you knew… I didn’t want you to have to live with that. With the pain that comes with losing a true mate.”

Y/N stops half a foot away and drops her accusatory finger. “What did you say?” she whispers.

“True… mates,” Dean breathes.

“We’re…? But… We never – I don’t –”

“With me on my pills, and you on your pills, I think it was enough to… so we just never…”

“But you knew,” she says, closing the gap between them, her hand coming up to caress his cheek. “You knew for so long and you watched me go on dates, had to listen about the… things I did with other Alphas… if I had mated with one of them, you –”

“You deserved to have a choice. Regardless of what I wanted, you deserved to have a choice.” 

“My choice could’ve left you depressed and alone and celibate forever, you fucking dumbass.” 

He shrugs, and her hand falls to rest over his heart. She stares at it as she continues.

“When you… marked me… I felt… I don’t know what I felt. Nothing’s ever been so intense.”

She looks up at him through her eyelashes, and he smiles softly.

“That’s the bond,” he explains, his large palm coming to rest over the hand on his chest. 

“And if we weren’t on… our blockers?”

“If we weren’t on our blockers, there’s no fucking telling how many pups we’d have running around by now.”

Y/N shivers as the thought of being bred settles in her core, and for once she’s not cursing her biology. Dean chuckles faintly at her reaction, dropping his forehead to hers. 

“We can practice in the meantime. Until you decide you want off of them.”

She inhales deeply, taking in as much of his scent as she can. “Oh, I –” another deep breath, “I’m getting off of them for sure.”

Dean lets out a borderline animalistic growl, thinking about how many times he’ll get to fuck her through that first heat. “I’m gonna stop taking my pills, too,” he says breathily.

“Yeah?”

“I had to get on rut blockers when you moved into the Bunker because I knew I wouldn’t be able to control myself. But now,” he says, spinning them both around and pinning Y/N against the wall, “now I don’t fuckin’ have to.”

“Dean,” she half gasps, half moans. He kisses the mark on her neck before licking all the way up to her jaw line and pulling back. 

“You drive me fuckin’ crazy, Omega.”

She meets his feral gaze with one of her own, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “Prove it.” 

And it might be an incredibly stupid thing to say to a horny Alpha, but it’s also Dean. And he’d never hurt her.

“Mm, fuck.” His voice is raspy and wrecked and they haven’t even done anything yet. Before Y/N can process what’s happening, he’s picking her up and throwing her onto the bed. He climbs over her, hovering for a moment, taking in her flushed cheeks, the warmth radiating off of her, her scent. “You’re beautiful,” he states plainly, like it’s the one fact in the world that he knows without a doubt to be true. 

Y/N blushes. “Thank you, Alpha.” She says it because she knows what it does to him. 

“You’re beautiful, and I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin you.” 

A gasp leaves her lips as he pushes her dress up her hips and moves down her body to the foot of the mattress, his fingertips dancing along the hem of her panties before his eyes meet with hers. She gives him a nod, and it’s all the confirmation he needs before pulling them down her legs and tossing them aside. 

He watches hungrily as she spreads her thighs, her core damn near dripping with her wetness, and if this is what it’s like when she’s on heat blockers, he can’t even begin to imagine what it’ll look like covered in her slick. His cock grows hard in his slacks at the thought, and he has to step off the bed to take off his pants and boxers before the containment grows painful. He shrugs off his suit jacket and white dress shirt too, and when he’s standing in front of the bed, fully naked, Y/N is propping herself up on her elbows to take him in.

“Holy – fuck,” is all she can get out. 

Dean chuckles deeply, one knee coming up onto the mattress as he fists his cock. “Fuck, sweetheart.” He looks her over again, pussy glistening, nipples peaked through her dress. “Fuck, I want you to – would you present for me?”

A smirk spreads across her lips, but she doesn’t say anything before flipping over and assuming the position. Ass up, legs shoulder width apart, chest resting on the mattress. 

Dean lets out a low and guttural, “Fuuuuck,” and it’s enough to make her pussy clench around nothing. She feels the mattress dip behind her, and when his cock starts to move through her folds, she almost cums right then and there. 

“I know you you wish you weren’t an Omega,” he starts, “but you’re a fuckin’ perfect one, baby.” 

She shakes her head, soft whimpers escaping her as he continues to tease her with his dick. “I’m glad I’m an Omega, because I’m yours.” 

With that, Dean loses what little self control he has left. He lines himself up with her entrance and sinks into her heat, and she feels so fucking perfect, the way she molds around his cock. The noises leaving her throat spur him on as he thrusts into her, setting a bruising pace. He wraps his hand around her shoulder for leverage, his other gripping her ass.

“Oh my fuck!” she practically screams, and he can feel how close she is, can smell it. 

“You’re gonna be a good little Omega and cum for me, aren’t you baby?” he pants, and he couldn’t be thrusting deeper if he tried.

She nods frantically. “Yesyesyes, please, Alpha, I wanna to cum. I wanna — mm, fuck — on your —”

She’s too fucked out to even finish her sentence, and Dean can feel himself about to fall over the edge. “What’s that, sweetheart? Speak up.”

“I wanna cum — oh, God! — on your knot. Fucking fill me up, Dean, please.”

He barely manages another thrust before he buries himself to the hilt, the base of his cock swelling inside her as he pumps her full of his seed.

The feeling of him filling her sends her over the edge, her pussy clenching around his cock, his knot, and she feels so full and fucked and sated.

“Oh my fucking fuuuuck,” he groans, feeling her pulse around him. “Fuck, everyone and this fuckin’ party is gonna be able to smell me inside of you.”

She moans at his words.

“Gonna have me dripping down your thighs ‘til we get back home.” His hand squeezes the globe of her ass before he leans over, getting as close to her ear as he can. “And then I’m gonna fuck you again. And again. And again. Because we got three years to make up for.” He nips at her ear playfully. “And now you’re finally mine.”

[novaursa]

A little bit of angst here, could I get one with cregan and rhaenyras daughter where, after their first child, reader and cregan are having difficulty making a second child. Eventually reader gets pregnant a joyous day for winterfell. As the weeks pass, cregan and reader are frequently spotted by the folk of winterfell sharing tender moments between one another, maybe a kiss to readers belly, maybe cregan almost always has a hand to her stomach etc. one day (maybe cregan is at the wall or on a hunt) reader receives a raven from dragonstone saying Jacaerys is dead. Readers grief overcomes her and she loses the baby. After news reaches cregan about Jace, he rushes home to comfort his wife, knowing she’d be overcome with grief, and he is met with the aftermath. Cregan is filled with grief and anger and a lust for revenge for the person at the hands of the death of his friend, the grief of his wife and the loss of his child.

The Gullet's Price

Requests are closed!

- Summary: The day you received the news about the death of your brother, another life was lost.

- Paring: velaryon!reader/Cregan Stark

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (just to be safe)

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @daeryna @melsunshine @21-princess

The snow fell gently outside the thick stone walls of Winterfell, casting a blanket of white over the sprawling castle. Inside, however, warmth radiated from every hearth. You sat by the window, watching the snowflakes drift lazily in the twilight, your hand absentmindedly resting on your belly. The room was quiet, save for the occasional crackle of the fire and the distant sound of footsteps from the courtyard below.

It had been months—many long, aching months—since you and Cregan had first tried for a second child. After the birth of your son, the heir to Winterfell, you had both longed for another, but it seemed the gods had been slow to answer your prayers. There had been whispers among the maesters, suggestions of herbs and tonics, but nothing had come of it. Each passing moon only deepened the ache in your heart, and though Cregan never showed it, you could see the worry in his eyes, the way his hand lingered on your shoulder a moment too long, the way he would pull you into his arms as if holding you close could somehow solve what was out of your control.

The door creaked open, and there he stood—Cregan, your husband, lord of Winterfell, with his ever-brooding presence softened by the sight of you. His dark hair fell loosely over his shoulders, and his grey eyes—so often stern in the face of duty—softened as they found yours. Without a word, he crossed the room, his boots barely making a sound against the stone floor, and knelt beside you, placing a warm hand on top of yours.

"Still watching the snow, love?" he asked, his voice low and filled with a tenderness reserved only for you.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "It reminds me of the first night I spent here. You used to say the snow welcomed me to the North."

Cregan smiled at the memory, his fingers gently entwining with yours. "Aye, and it seems the North has claimed you as one of its own ever since."

For a moment, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the snow drifting outside, and the fire crackling softly beside you. Then, without warning, Cregan shifted slightly, his free hand coming to rest on your belly—just as it had so many times before, a hopeful gesture, though for so long it had brought neither joy nor comfort.

You looked down at his hand, feeling the familiar warmth of his touch. "Perhaps it's not meant to be," you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Perhaps one child is all we were granted."

Cregan's grip tightened ever so slightly, his thumb brushing gently over the fabric of your dress. "You’ve always been stronger than fate, Y/N. If we are meant to have more children, we will. And if not..." He paused, looking up at you with such intensity that it made your heart skip a beat. "Then we will cherish the family we have."

The sincerity in his words brought tears to your eyes, but you blinked them away, leaning down to press a kiss to his brow. "I love you, Cregan Stark."

"And I love you," he whispered, his lips brushing against the skin of your belly as he spoke. It was such a simple act, but the tenderness of it, the love that radiated from him, made your chest swell with emotion.

The days passed slowly after that, each one blending into the next. Winter held the North in its grip, and though life within Winterfell continued as always, there was a quiet hope that lingered between you and Cregan, an unspoken understanding that perhaps, just perhaps, the gods had not forgotten you after all.

Then one morning, as the sun barely crested the horizon, you woke with a strange feeling in your stomach—not pain, but something else. Something new. You lay still for a moment, waiting, your heart pounding in your chest as realization dawned upon you.

"Cregan," you whispered, nudging him awake beside you.

He stirred, groggy from sleep, but the moment his eyes met yours, he was alert. "What is it?"

"I... I think I'm with child," you said, the words feeling foreign and yet so familiar on your tongue.

For a heartbeat, there was silence. Then, Cregan sat up, his hand already moving to your belly as if to confirm what you had just said. His grey eyes were wide with disbelief, and for the first time in what felt like years, there was unrestrained joy in his expression.

"Are you certain?" he asked, though the hope in his voice was undeniable.

You nodded, tears already welling in your eyes. "I'm certain."

The joy that erupted in the days following was like nothing you had ever experienced before. Winterfell, normally so cold and solemn, felt alive with the news of your pregnancy. The people celebrated quietly at first, but soon the halls were filled with laughter and congratulations. The maesters confirmed your suspicions, and Cregan all but swept you into his arms, grinning like a man who had won the greatest battle of his life.

From that day on, it was rare to see you without Cregan by your side. He was never far from you, his hand constantly finding its way to your stomach as if to remind himself—and everyone else—that life was growing within you. The people of Winterfell spoke of it often, how their lord was more tender with you than they had ever seen before. Some swore they saw him press soft kisses to your belly when he thought no one was watching.

You, too, felt the change in him. His protectiveness over you grew tenfold, but so did his tenderness. He would sit with you by the hearth in the evenings, his hand resting on your belly as the fire crackled beside you. "I can't wait to meet our child," he'd say softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I wonder if they'll have your eyes."

"And your stubbornness," you teased, smiling as he chuckled.

Every tender moment between you was a reminder of the love you shared. The people of Winterfell watched with quiet admiration, and as the weeks passed, it became clear that this child—your child—would be born into a house filled with love, protected by both the Starks and Targeryens.

One evening, as the snow began to fall once more, Cregan knelt before you, resting his head against your belly. "Our child will be here soon," he whispered, his voice full of wonder. "And I will love them just as much as I love you."

You smiled down at him, your hand stroking through his dark hair. "I know you will, my love. I know."

The sky was a cold, slate gray, reflecting the heaviness that weighed on your heart. You had been restless all day, your hand unconsciously drifting to your swollen belly as you paced the stone floors of Winterfell. Cregan had gone to the Wall, seeing to matters with the Night's Watch, and while he often left for such duties, his absence felt more pronounced today, leaving you feeling uneasy.

You paused at the window, watching the snow swirl in the bitter northern wind. There had been no ravens for days, no word from Dragonstone, and though you had tried to push away your fears, the growing knot in your stomach told you something was amiss.

And then, it came. The raven. Black wings against the pale sky.

When the maester handed you the scroll, your fingers trembled, sensing the weight of it before your eyes even scanned the words. It was from Dragonstone—your mother’s seal—but it was not her handwriting. The letters blurred as you read them, and the world around you seemed to vanish, leaving only the devastating truth in front of you.

Jacaerys is dead.

He had been slain at the Gullet, struck down during a battle with the greens. The words felt unreal, distant, as if they were written for someone else. But no, they were meant for you. Your Jace, your closest friend, your blood, was gone.

A choked sob escaped your lips, your body trembling as the grief hit you all at once. The scroll slipped from your hands and fell to the floor, unnoticed. All you could feel was the crushing weight of loss—the loss of your brother, of someone who had been part of your life for as long as you could remember. The one you had grown up with, laughed with, fought beside. The one who had been by your side during the most difficult moments of your life.

Jace.

You pressed your hand to your belly, your breaths coming in short, panicked gasps as the sorrow became overwhelming, twisting inside you like a blade. The baby... your baby. You could feel it—something was wrong. The sharp pain in your abdomen stole your breath, and suddenly the warmth you had cherished, the life growing within you, felt cold. Empty.

"No..." you whispered, stumbling backward as another wave of pain coursed through you. You clutched your stomach, but it was no use. The grief, the heartache—it was too much. You collapsed to the floor, clutching at your belly, the realization sinking in that the life you carried had slipped away, just as Jace had. Gone.

Servants found you there, unconscious and bleeding, their screams echoing through the halls of Winterfell as they rushed to fetch the maesters. But no maester, no amount of care, could undo what had already been done. By the time you awoke, it was too late. You had lost the baby.

When Cregan finally returned, having received word of Jacaerys's death at the Wall, his heart was already heavy with the knowledge of how devastated you would be. He had pushed his horse hard, riding through the night to return to you, knowing you would need him now more than ever.

But nothing could have prepared him for what awaited him.

The moment he stepped through the gates of Winterfell, he knew something was wrong. The air was thick with tension, the usual quiet bustle of the castle replaced with a heavy, oppressive silence. The servants barely met his eyes as they bowed, their faces pale. His chest tightened, fear creeping into his heart as he made his way through the familiar halls.

"Cregan," a voice called softly, and he turned to see the Maester Kennet approaching him with a grave expression. The look on his face confirmed Cregan's worst fears.

"She..." the maester began, his voice shaking slightly. "She lost the child, my lord. It happened shortly after the raven arrived from Dragonstone. The grief—"

Cregan didn’t wait for him to finish. He rushed past the maester, his heart pounding in his chest as he made his way to your chambers. He flung the door open, and there you were, lying in bed, pale and weak, your eyes red from crying. The sight of you like this, broken and devastated, was like a dagger to his heart.

You looked up when you heard the door, and when your eyes met Cregan’s, the dam broke again. Fresh tears spilled down your cheeks as you whispered, "He’s gone, Cregan... Jace is gone... and... our baby..."

Cregan crossed the room in an instant, gathering you into his arms, holding you as you wept into his chest. His own heart shattered as he held you, feeling the weight of your loss, your grief. He didn’t speak; words wouldn’t help, not now. All he could do was hold you, his strong arms wrapped around you as if he could somehow protect you from the pain you were feeling. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t shield you from this.

Inside, Cregan’s own grief began to twist into something darker—rage. Jacaerys had been his friend, one of the few he could trust in the turbulent world of war and politics. The news of his death was a blow to his own heart, but seeing you like this—broken and empty, having lost not only your brother but your child—it was unbearable.

He clenched his jaw, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly. Whoever was responsible for Jacaerys’s death would pay. He would see to it. The rage that simmered in his veins burned hotter with every passing moment.

"I swear to you," he murmured, his voice low and filled with a quiet fury, "whoever is responsible for Jace’s death will pay. I will see to it myself."

You lifted your tear-streaked face to look at him, and for a moment, you could see the storm brewing in his eyes. Cregan was always strong, always steady, but now—now there was something else in him. Something dangerous.

"Cregan," you whispered, your voice hoarse from crying. "Don’t... please, don’t go."

His gaze softened as he looked at you, his thumb gently brushing away the tears from your cheek. "I won’t leave you, not now. But justice will be done, Y/N. For Jace, for our child. I promise you."

You closed your eyes, leaning into him, feeling the warmth of his embrace even as the world around you felt cold and desolate. Cregan held you tightly, his mind racing with thoughts of revenge, of the blood that would be spilled in the name of those you had lost.

He would not rest until the one responsible for this pain had paid with their life.

[nereidprinc3ss]

haunted

in which spencer reid takes you to a haunted house and you're being very brave about it... sort of.

fluff! warnings/tags: reader wears a skirt, reader is a scaredy cat!!, established relationship, kithing, my favs derek and penelope featured, haunted house stuff, talk about the physical composition of human eyeballs and mentions of harvesting them/eating them but it's not serious, FAKE very fake Halloween gore, I know those tags just escalated so quickly my bad, mention of a spooky clown, just haunted house stuff ok!! but its really not a scary fic I promise!!!! a/n: this is for my bff @gublersg1rl !!!! I hope u all like!!!!! Also yes the title was extremely creative I was feeling divinely inspired and revolutionary let’s not talk abt it

“Okay, no, no—maybe we don’t have to go in. I don’t think it’s gonna be that good.”

As you say it you’re wearily eyeing the crowd of screaming teenagers who are sprinting from the haunted house attraction’s exit, leaving a trail a swirling leaves and candy wrappers in their wake. Spencer laughs, gently hugging you back to him as you subconsciously begin to drift away from the line. 

“I knew this would happen.”

“Nothing’s happening.”

“You’re scared. You want to chicken out.”

“I don’t,” you snap, stepping back and adjusting your sweater. “I’m just… I’m cold. I wanna go back to the car.” Spencer does some adjustments of his own, coming close and reaching around you as if going in for a hug but instead tugging your skirt down slightly in the back. You let him finish and then bat his hand away. “Would you stop that?”

“You said you were cold! I’m trying to help you.”

“By making my skirt one inch longer? That’s not going to help.”

He holds his hands up defensively. “Okay. Sorry. I won’t touch.”

Immediately your serrated edge is dulled and you lean against him, barely steering clear of a pout. “No, please. You’re warm. And you’ll protect me.”

He smiles down at you, cheeks and nose nipped sweet pink by the chilly breeze. His hair looks very nice today, his eyes are extra sparkly in the dark, and he’s framed by mostly bare tree branches scattered around the fairground—nothing more than dark palms clawing at the sky, a full white moon cradled in between black branches. The autumnal night is perhaps too cold for the tartan mini skirt you’d chosen, but Spencer told you it looked nice. Of course he doesn’t put up a fight when you slip your arms around his waist under his coat—only wraps his arms around you in return.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to protect you. But between us Derek and Penelope will bear the brunt of the jump scares.”

“Who said my name?”

You look over your shoulder to where Penelope is shivering despite wearing her own and Derek’s coat, and Derek is eyeing the two of you, enjoying a bag of caramel corn like he doesn’t have a care in the world. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Spencer says, and you laugh to yourself, pulling him even closer like you’re trying to leech the warmth from his body. “Okay, you do have to face forward though. I don’t want you to trip.”

“No, Spencer!” You argue, but he’s already unlatching your arms from his middle and turning you in place. 

“You’re fine,” he chuckles, holding onto your hips. “I’m right here. Be brave.”

The line has begun to move forward again, and this time, it’s not stopping. Your heart pounds as at the behest of a teenaged bloody scarecrow you follow Derek and Penelope into the dark mouth of the red clapboard facade—a sort of farmhouse design that had seemed charming from afar and deeply sinister up close. Speakers play a loud creaking sound over spooky music and your eyes slowly adjust to reveal a foggy corridor lined with doors and creepy paintings.

As soon as the first evil little girl pops out of a doorway, you scream right along with Penelope. 

“Oh, my god,” Spencer laughs under his breath as you stop dead in your tracks, holding the group behind you up. When Penelope and Derek move on, you stay stuck, knowing that the threat has disappeared for the moment but still looms. Spencer gently ushers you forward. “Stay close behind Penelope, and it won’t be as scary. Come on, we have to keep going.”

“I hate this so much.”

But he ignores your comment, guiding you forward down the shadowy hallway and whispering the beginnings of a tangent over your shoulder. 

“You know, the first haunted house attraction was in London in 1915 at a fairground just like this. They picked up in America during the Great Depression as an attempt to distract young hooligans from resorting to property damage for fun.”

“Hooligans?” You mutter, teasing him even while terrified, carefully eyes the suspicious staircase leading up to a fenced in landing, shrouded in darkness. “We’re not going up there, are we?”

Just then a man with a sack over his head and bloody axe emerges from the black, launching himself down the stairs. Again, you scream, this time sprinting out of Spencer’s hold and through a cobweb veil into the next room. 

“Jesus fuck!” You gasp, clutching your chest as someone made up to be a sweet old grandma gone mad and soaked in blood and viscera turns around to greet you with a manic grin. 

“Oh, a pretty girl! Is that you, dear? My long lost granddaughter? Or did I put her in a pie?”

The acting is subpar at best, the script even worse, but what really discomforts you are the bloodied rubber limbs swinging from the ceiling and the fog machine in the corner that keeps burping out thick white clouds with a little hiss. You turn around, running directly into Spencer’s chest. He catches you by the waist and you cling to him, digging your feet in to try and stop either of you from proceeding any closer to your new friend. 

“And your lover—so handsome! Mm, what a delicious pairing you two’ll make! Maybe in my specialty cream of eyeball soup?”

She cackles. Spencer pushes you carefully forward as you peer over his lapel, and he actually stops to look into the woman’s pot as she stirs it. 

“Spencer—”

“You know—the human eyeball is by all accounts difficult to harvest without essentially popping the outer wall of muscle and connective tissue and then you’re losing the structure of the sphere—and stop me if you know this—but water constitutes about 98 percent of vitreous and aqueous humor which in turn make up eighty percent of the total volume of the eye so to say your soup would be cream of eyeball is—”

“Buddy, you’re holding up the line!” Someone shouts from behind, and Spencer offers an awkward apology to the grandma who was beginning to look more and more uncomfortable, hurrying you along through the kitchen from hell. 

“I cannot believe you just did that,” you hiss, still clinging to him. “That poor woman probably thinks you’re a serial killer now.”

“I was trying to humanize her for your benefit—”

Another scream from someone else, another cheap jump scare, cuts him off, and by this point you have your eyes squeezed shut, squeaking at every noise, and Spencer is damn near carrying you through the haunted house, walking you awkwardly backward through the various rooms. 

He cradles the back of your head and presses his lips to your ear as a chainsaw revs somewhere nearby and you hear Derek and Penelope yelping just ahead. “You’re being so brave,” Spencer murmurs, though you don’t miss the smile in his voice. "If I was a malevolent spectre I would definitely steer clear of you. I'd be too intimidated."

“Shut up. Ah!”

“Baby, that was a plant. You know the actors can’t touch you, right? You’re not in any danger.”

“I don’t like being scared, Spencer.”

“Then why did you suggest the haunted house? I said we should do the maze.”

“I don’t know! I—” another man popping out of the wall, another roar that you only hear, sequestered safely against your boyfriend’s coat. “Oh my god, are we almost done? I can’t do this anymore.”

“Yeah, the entrance is right ahead. No more actors, okay? I can see the whole room, it’s totally empty.”

“I bet that's what they want you to think, they lull you into a false sense of security and then—”

Cold air kisses the back of your legs as Spencer walks you toward the door, and the stifled soundscape widens again as you exit the house breathing air that doesn’t smell like sawdust and fog machine juice and fake blood. 

“Nope. We're really all done, see?”

“You survived! Oh my god, I survived!” Penelope calls, and you lift your head from Spencer’s chest, looking up at him. He’s grinning, brushing his thumbs over your cheeks. 

“You honestly handled that better than I thought you would. I actually think I saw the guy dressed as a clown jump when you screamed.”

“If I ever say I wanna do something scary again please don’t listen to me. I hated that so much.”

He examines your face for a moment before determining that despite your rattled nerves, you’ll be okay, and comforts you with a quick peck. “Do you wanna go get caramel apples now?”

“Yes, please. And then can we do the maze, and just like—I don’t know, sit there and… meditate for a little while?”

He chuckles. “Yeah. Just… don’t think about what could be lurking in the corn.”

You give him a little shove. “You know, I only did that haunted house thing because I know how much you love Halloween. I’m being a good girlfriend and what do I get?”

He pulls you close again and kisses your hand. 

“You get a caramel apple,” he says, like it’s obvious, and more than that—worth every trouble in the world. “Come on.”

You give him a begrudging smile and allow him to lead you, hand in hand. Maybe it is. 

[moonriseoverkyoto]

Wearing your brother’s dog tags brings a lot of questions, which meant problems. Especially from men, especially at a bar where said men try to pick you up. Or strike a conversation about the mysterious dog tags. Lucky for you a certain Scot lovingly doesn’t think to ask too many questions. Not until Johnny “Soap” Mactavish’s tongue is down your throat in the back of his car on holiday do the gears begin to turn. But only, yes only after, a few odd weekends of small dates and letters when he can write, he finally decides to ask who your tags belong to between deep kisses and pants. You frown as you pull away to respond, the mood dampened.

“Oh I really shouldn’t say..” you sigh not wanting to explain the long story typically because it ruins the mood “my brother gave me these so I wouldn’t worry about him when he leaves on missions. His call sign is Ghost and…” Shit. Johnny’s whole body seizes up as his heart makes a pitfall down his body. His hearing stops as his brain repeats your joined last name over and over and over; Riley, Riley Riley Riley. Fuck why didn’t he connect the dots. Ghost always was secretive and protective about his younger sister, everyone knew he always declined to bring you as his plus one or even show photos to the rest of the 141. Damnit he knows somewhere down the line if Gaz or even worse Price hears about this that he’ll never live it down. If Ghost hears about this - shit he’ll never live. He finally zones back in to hear you say

“…but that doesn’t matter because you guys don’t run in the same circles, right?” Soap’s nervous smile gives you all the time for your heart to join his in dropping down below. But as your phone rings both of you are sure your hearts have dropped down to hell as the caller id reads: Simon Riley.

Drabble Drabble, I’m tired and I wanted to put this on paper before it slipped my mind. I’ll expand upon this later but this is mostly an idea for @glossysoap to enjoy because Glossy loves Soap as much as I do. So I hope you enjoy btw not proofread so toodles xoxo - Moon

©️moonriseoverkyoto 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, or translate any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.

Reposts are 100000% appreciated. Also my inbox is open for requests!

[thecordelialetters]

She's my Angel I Five Hargreeves x Reader

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Post Apocalypse Au! Pt2 Pt3

WC: ~3,258 Warnings/Tags: Sexual Tension, Mentions of Abuse, Agedup!Five, Mentions of previous trauma, 18+

Summary: The Umbrella Academy saved the world, the Commission is no longer after them, the moon is in one piece and everyone’s lives start to fall back into place. Five attempts to start his life over again when Klaus brings home a girl with unusual shadow powers. ⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡

˚

The Apocalypse was over and Five Hargreaves did what he did best, drink and cope. The first few weeks of freedom he tried things he had missed early on in his childhood. It started when Viktor took him shopping for a new, more appropriate wardrobe, that someone who looked his age would wear. Then he would often visit the park just to admire the beauty of places that were once a baron landscape. And sometimes he just spent his time reading catching up on what he missed in the last few years.

But old habits die hard when you spend 54 years alone and the next 2 weeks desperate to save yourself and save your family. Maybe Klaus was right when he called the apocalypse his drug because, for a while, it was all he’d ever know.

Five hadn’t slept well in a long time and despite his newfound freedom without the looming feeling of impending doom. He would find himself waking up at 4 am to check his window and just to see if everything was real.

The Academy had been empty for a bit, the first week his family had stayed back to collect themselves, celebrate, and appreciate one another but slowly their lives fell back into place. Allison went back to Claire wanting to get back her career and her daughter back. Luther wanted to find his independence and took a small helping from his inheritance to live on his own. Diego and Lila had also moved out in hopes of continuing to grow their relationship and perhaps find happiness in normalcy. Viktor, now confident in himself wanting to explore the world more began traveling and meeting new people. To Five it felt like everyone had moved on, except him. He had been the one to jump through time, and now he felt like he was stuck in it.

However this morning, his silent coffee and breakfast time was interrupted but a surprisingly sober Klaus barging through the door with a girl no taller than 5’3 who looked as if she had been dragged through the mud and a forest in his arms.

“I didn’t know where to bring her she ran into me frantic and couldn’t speak much,”

“There wasn’t anyone chasing her so I have no idea where she came from and she’s in pretty bad shape.”

Klaus looked panicked, he felt bad for the beat-up girl in his arms but what could he do besides bring her to the place he knew could help her best.

Grace and Pogo immediately took action, bringing the girl into the spare room to care for her wounds.

“What makes you think you can just bring random people in here? She could be dangerous?”

Five arched his eyebrow at Klaus’s behavior. He wasn’t a trusting man but he trusted his brother’s intuition and the girl genuinely looked like she needed help.

“I couldn’t just leave her on the road. I’m not a bad person Five. There’s something different about her I swear.”

Five looked distrustful at what his brother was saying.

“Well, we’ll just have to see when she wakes up.”

The two went back to doing their own things in the Academy waiting for you to wake up.

————————-3 days later————————

The sun shone brightly in the room you stayed at. Your eyes slowly opened, blinking harshly to adjust to the shining light. You had no idea where you were, this new place was uncomfortable and unfamiliar. Warm wood furniture decorated the walls, and the mattress you slept on seemed more comfy, soft, and warmer than your old hay-filled cot. Unsurprisingly your wounds ached but were clean nevertheless. You jumped when the door swung open to reveal a monkey? no an ape? in a suit. "Ah you're finally awake, Ill let the others know"

"I am Pogo by the way, please rest, we don't want your stitches reopening." Maybe it was the exhaustion catching up to you, but you listened to his words and laid back, staring at the large high ceilings waiting to see if whoever brought you here would be like your old doctors. Back downstairs Pogo noticed Five pacing around in the living room. "Any troubles worrying you?" "Yes that girl, I can't find any information about her, she had no ID, no name card, I even looked around the area trying to track back where she came from, and nothing." Five glanced around, more cautious of his surroundings

"What if the commission sent her?" "This is not good, not good at all"

And with a quick turn, he teleported to the room of which his unwelcome guest occupied. A flash of blue interrupted your daydreams when a boy about your age in a green flannel, cargo pants, with slightly long side parted hair entered your space. Besides appearing out of nowhere he looked almost normal, but that didn't stop you from being scared. Shivering you pushed yourself back on the bed as far as you could to try to get away from him. Sensing your fear Five held out his hands as a way to show you some form of peace. Lowering one hand he slowly approached you. But the closer he came the farther back you shuffled. Something wasn't right Five thought. You were terrified of him, what had happened to you to cause you to be in such a state.

Hey Im not going to hurt you, I don't know who you are but Im not going to hurt you." Five could see that you weren't budging so he reached into his pocket and pulled out a hazelnut toffee-flavored candy. He wasn't a big fan of sweets but had kept some from his last visit to a local coffee shop. "Here you must be a little hungry, it's good to see." He popped it in his mouth to show her that it was safe, not a trick. Slowly you reached out and touched his hand, grabbing the little treat, unwrapping it before letting the gooey sweet melt on your tongue. Five smiled at your reaction. "See? It was good." He thought you looked adorable with big doe eyes waiting to see if he had any more. He reached into his right pocket and pulled out another handle full of candies. "Ill give you one each time you answer a question. Can you do that for me?" You nodded slowly. "Okay, can you tell me your name?" "Angel" you pointed to yourself "Five" you pointed to him. You had heard Klaus shouting his name when you entered the house. "Angel? Do you have a last time?" "Five. Five Hargreeves" He pointed to himself. "Angel" You repeated. Okay maybe you didn't have a last name that was fine, at least he had gotten a name. He gave you another candy and watched you excitedly open it. "Okay Angel, another question where did you come from? Who or what were you running from?" "Doctor" you responded looking down. "What Doctor? What did he do to you." You felt like you should have known better than to trust the boy in front of you, but he looked so earnest so sweet, that you decided to show him your secret. Opening your fist a ball of shadows appeared in your hand before you tossed it into the air letting whatever light was in the room dissipate. Five knew what this had suggested. Whoever took you, held you captive, and experimented on you. Perhaps they were trying to make you into one of the unlucky 43. Another candy was handed to you.

“Show me more” Five demanded. You blinked at him slowly before he put another candy in your hand. “Show me.”

You looked at him and brought both your hands up into the air. He watched shadows run from the ground into the room and swirl around you. It appeared you could summon shadows at your will and control them.

“Good girl” and another candy as placed in your hand. "Tell me, Angel, do you know where or who it was? Do you know the name of the commission?" You stared at him blankly not understanding what he said. Before Five could ask any more questions Klaus had burst through the door. "My Angel! You are okay !" As he rushed towards you to grab your face. Stunned you jolted back from his presence. "Angel, that's why she called herself that, it's not her name, it’s what you called her!" Five went to smack Klaus in the back of the head when his hand was stopped by a shadow. "No hurt, Klaus friend" With heart eyes, Klaus dove into Angel's arms "LOOK AT MY ANGEL PROTECTING ME!!" With the gentleness of a newborn deer, Angel reached out to Klaus with a small sweet in her hand. "Candy?" "For me? Of course, Angel thank you!" Rolling his eyes at the scene Five teleported to his room to think. Where had this girl come from she had no name could barely speak and had a dark power with unknown consequences. Angel clad in Umbrella Academy uniform, and Klaus were in the living room when a flash appeared in the doorway. "Cinco! Where are you off to?" "Library I need to do some research." But just before he would reach for the doorknob a body was flung into his back. "Here take Angel with you, she needs a new set of clothes, can't have her wearing this uniform, you know all about that wouldn't you?" Klaus said as he shoved Angel forward. "I don't have time, I'm not a babysitter." Five expressed as he grabbed your arms and pushed you back. "Five...mad?" You looked up at Five with tears in your eyes. Reaching out to his face with his hand you softly pet his cheek. "Five...happy. Happy"

The time travelers face softened at the kindness you showed while trying to console him.

“I’m sorry Angel, yes Five is happy. Come on let’s go.”

He grabbed your hand ignoring the feeling of his heart when your soft skin wrapped around his.

————————-In the Car—————————

“Alright Angel, as cute as you look in the uniform we have to get you some normal clothes.”

Five looked over at you, but you were looking out the window. His green eyes passed over the cuts on your legs and the faint but visible bruises on your neck. It wondered him how someone could do this to you, turn a girl who seemed like an Angel into a shadow user. He parked the car at Gimble's before flashing to your side of the door to open it, Five was still a gentleman after all. "Okay now Angel, we're here to buy you some new clothes." You nodded your head to show you understood him and hopped out of the car excited to see the world around you. Being locked up for so long you had forgotten what the outside world looked like. Today the sky was blue with warm gusts of winds filling the air. People and families were seen chattering about. You reached out to grab Five's arm and pulled him closer to the store. Five chucked at your childlike antics, letting himself be whisked away by you. You dragged him to the dress section; some of the kinder doctors had given you books to look at to pass the time, many of them being princess books. There were cute frilly dresses that caught your eye immediately. Rushing forward you grabbed 3 dresses that might have suited you. With a sigh Five grabbed your shoulders wanting to tell you to go find some more practical everyday clothes. But after seeing the glimmer in your eye as if you found the most priceless thing...he couldn't bear take that away from you. "Come on Princess, let's go try them on." He ushered you to the changing room and waited outside. As he turned his back you grabbed his hand, but Five had yanked it back at the unexpected contact. He wasn't completely used to physical touch yet.

Ignoring this you grabbed his hand once more and tried to take him into the dressing room with you. "No Angel I can't go with you, just put on the dresses inside and Ill wait out here."

You had refused to let go of his hand. With another sign he allowed himself to be pulled into the confined space of the changing room. You quickly shimmied out of the uniform skirt and tie throwing it into a random corner. Five's face turned a deep scarlet red, although he was an older man the sight of your small and barely clothes body was enough to make him shift in his pants. Before he could embarrass himself any further he blinked out into the waiting room fanning his face as if he ran a marathon. There were small warning signs in his brain, don't get too attached, she doesn't know better, please don't get a boner right now. Trying to collect himself he put his hands in his face wanting to be anywhere but here right now. You interrupted his train of thought when you came out bouncing with a big smile on your face. The dress you picked out was a cute white summer dress that was white had thick straps tied on your shoulders. The skirt part stopped right above your knees and flared out with a twirl. You looked absolutely adorable, an Angel who wielded the power of a devil. "You look...beautiful" Five muffled through his hand. "Beautiful?" You questioned. "Yes you, Angel, you are beautiful." And as if your smile couldn't get any bigger, you ran and jumped into Five, his arms slowly wrapping around your frame to prevent you from falling.

"Five! Beautiful!" You smiled and pointed at him. Your fingers had graced his cheeks into a smile. Pointing at his dimple "Five! Beautiful" you repeated. "Oh, you think I'm beautiful Angel?" Five couldn't help but also feel happy and continue smiling, something about you felt like a breath of fresh air. His last few weeks had been nonstop paranoia and feeling the effects of an identity crisis, but hearing your laughter and seeing you call him beautiful, it felt as if he was actually living again. However, that didn't stop the nagging fear in the back of his mind of where you came from and what had happened to you. Perhaps it was the assassin in him that just couldn't let him...enjoy a moment. "Come on Angel, let’s get the rest of the dresses and pay. We need to head to the library before it closes." You nodded your head and skipped off to grab the rest of your dresses and clothes. You and Five stood at the cashier waiting to pay. "That will be 45.78." Five pulled out a 50 and felt your head lean on his shoulder. "Five, thank you." You looked up at him with a mischievous gleam in your eye. As he was retrieving his change you leaned up and placed your soft lips on the corner of his mouth. "Five happy?" He looked down at you and blushed "Yes Five is very happy." ————————The Library—————————- You were sat in Five's lap flipping through a picture book while he was doing research. Unfortunately, there was almost no information about any kind of suspicious activities in the area where they had found you or even how you even got to the city. Five had to expand his research on places that might have to do with experimental tests but with so little access he was found himself at a dead end. "Nothing! Absolutely Nothing!" Five yelled before slamming his notebook on the table. You jumped in his lap and covered your ears, eyes filling with heavy teardrops waiting to fall. "Shit Angel Im sorry come here." He cooed wrapping his arms around you for the fourth time today. Five pressed a kiss to the top of your hair and inhaled slowly. You smelt like a blooming meadow and a hint of cinnamon. Closing his eyes he rested his head on yours. It wasn't been often when he felt a peace like this, heck he didn’t even remember the last time he felt calm, other than when he was drinking or passed out after a mission. Your eyelashes fluttered on his neck as you began to press small kisses on his jawline. "Come on Angel what are you doing?" "Make Five happy. Kiss you" You mumbled and continued leaving marks on his neck and jaw. Five clenched his fists around you "Angel if you keep this us I'm not going to be able to hold back." Five groaned as he pulled you closer into his lap. And with his last bit of resolve, he blinked you guys back into the car. "Come on Angel let's go home." He kissed your cheek slightly to assure you he wasn't mad and drove the two of you back. ————————the academy———————--- "Mi hermano and Angel ! You guys are back" Klaus shouted from the couch he was currently lying on. You ran into the living room jumping in front of Klaus to show off your dress.

"My cutie Angel! You look so pretty!"

Klaus then swept you off your feet and into a fit of giggles. Five, who had been observing the scene from the bar was actively trying to fight off the green monster that was creeping up his heart. "Leave her alone Klaus we had a long day. Come on Angel let's have your shower and get ready for bed." It was obvious you needed to be cared for and Five had already begun to assume the role. Pulling out some extra pajamas Five had in his wardrobe he handed them to you before showing you the bathroom. "Shower here and come back to my room when you are done okay?" You nodded back and went into the bathroom. With a sign Five flopped on his back in bed wondering more about you. How could someone he just met cause him to feel such a way? Maybe it was his messed up time-traveling brain that was causing these emotions but deep down he knew he had a hidden attraction to you. He began to think more about your powers. You couldn't be part of the 43 because you were too young but you also showed an understanding of your abilities and more control than Viktor did when he first found out about his. Five would have to talk to you after you shower about your abilities. Small footsteps padded outside his room before stopping. The door swung open and there you stood wrapped in only a small towel Grace had given you. Five green eyes turned wide as you skipped into his room.. You had turned to grab the pajamas he had left you on the bed and dropped your towel. Five sat up instantly, his eyes wandered over the curve of your breasts and the plumpness of your backside. Being in the apocalypse and focused on getting back home to his family never allowed him much time for romance or women, besides Delores. You stood up as bare as the day you were born, nipples perked up at the cold air and you put the silk top and bottom on. Now properly clothed you turned to Five who was staring at you with eyes that rivaled a burning sun. In a blink, he was in front of you grabbing your waist with such a force it felt like you would disappear if he let go. Bringing his lips to your neck he kissed gently and dragged his face to meet your eyes. Soft despreate lips met plump shy ones as you and Five melted into each other. The kiss grew hungry, more desperate, both parties missing the feel of one another. The two of you fell back onto the bed with Five on top of you. Two souls both isolated from the world finally finding solstice in one another. All the questions Five had for you were gone from his mind, the only thing replacing it was the thought of how your body felt against his. A small hand reached into the front of Five's pants. "I want to help Five" You had whispered into his ear. It was going to be a long night.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ Authors note : I kinda of wrote this on a whim in the middle of the night. I’d want to make this into a full series although and go really in depth about Angel who she is and how she got her powers and I defiantly want to bring back the rest of the Hargreaves but I'm not sure when Ill have another creative burst.

[frost-queen]

Colours we aspire to be (Maid!reader x Benedict Bridgerton)

Requested by anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @alex--awesome--22, @ellie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve , @queen-of-books , @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown , @wildieflower , @meyocoko , @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @swampything07, @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 , @markive-m, @erikasurfer

Summary: You are Gregory's maid and in no position of getting close to one of the lords at the house. Yet an artistic demand allows colours to explode with love. Growing closer to each other, you fall more in love. Knowing it is wrong. When Violet finds one of his paintings of you, she is over the moon. Her husband not so much, certainly not when his son threatens to run away with you. (apologies I changed it to Gregory instead of baby Eloise since I thought Ben would be too young then.)

“I’m going to get you.” – you called out playfully. Bended a bit through your knees, hands out as you chased after a young Gregory. Little Gregory of two of age, laughed loud, moving as fast as he could, hands bouncing up and down. You walked behind him making sure you weren’t catching him quickly. – “Gregory…” – you said sweetly, calling him over. – “I’m coming to tickle you.” – you teased making Gregory laugh even louder. His laughter filled the hallways. There was an open door as Gregory ran into it. You went after him, grabbing him from behind. – ��Got you.” – you said laughing as you pulled him onto your lap. Smothering him with kisses.

“Ben.” – Gregory let out with grabby hands. It made you look up, gasping loud as you were unaware lord Bridgerton was in the room with you. Benedict looked away from his painting to the two of you. Barely fazed by the barge in, turning his gaze to his painting once more. You got up, curtsying deep for him. – “Apologies my lord.” – you said, keeping your gaze to the ground. Straightening your posture once more, you took Gregory’s hand. – “I shan’t disturb you any further.” – you addressed about to take your leave. – “It is quite alright.” – he responded, furrowing his brows at his painting. – “It seems I have lost inspiration anyways.”

Benedict took a step back to admire his painting. Sighing loud as he didn’t like one bit of it. – “I hope inspiration will come to you soon, my lord.” – you bowed to him, ready to take Gregory with you if Benedict hadn’t stopped you. – “Y/n, right?” – he asked not sure if he remembered Gregory’s handmaidens name correctly. – “That I am, my lord.” – you responded. – “Can you come and see what I am doing wrong.” – he asked, leaving room for you to join. His sudden request made you blink surprised.

“My lord I do not believe I will be of much help.” – you told him. – “Come, come.” – Benedict moved a bit closer, reaching his hand out to grab your wrist. You nearly tripped over your own feet when he pulled you closer to the canvas. Gregory having sat himself down to lay on the floor. – “Tell me.” – Benedict gestured at the painting wanting your opinion. You didn’t dare to look at his painting, feeling as if you were overstepping. Benedict took you gently by the chin, moving your face forwards to look. – “I want your honest truth Y/n.” – he took a step back to allow you to see.

You gazed upon the painting, clearly seeing he was indeed missing inspiration. – “What do you think I should do?” – he asked. – “I…I don’t know… my lord.” – you told him, taking a step back. Benedict moved closer to the painting to be able to look at you properly. – “You surely must have some insight? Inspiration or dreams to fill this canvas?” – he wanted to know. – “Girls like myself do not dream.” – you told him honestly. It made Benedict blink in shock. – “You… you surely must.” – he insisted upon. You shook your head to tell him otherwise. – “Everyone has dreams.” – he let out with a laugh.

“I cannot afford dreams, my lord.” – you answered returning to Gregory. You picked him up from the ground, holding him in your arms. Benedict kept staring, watching you leave with Gregory. You returned to the nursery with Gregory. Benedict left his painting for what it was, going downstairs. Edmund was on his way to the drawing room when he saw his son. Quirking his eyebrow up at his son’s expression. – “Is something the matter son?” – he asked. Benedict shook his head thoughtfully. They entered the drawing room together. Anthony sitting with Violet in the sofa’s. A young Eloise playing cards with Colin.

There was a knock on the door as you entered with Gregory. Violet got up, coming over. – “He has been washed and properly bathed, Lady Bridgerton.” – you told her, allowing her to take Gregory from you. Violet nodded, returning with Gregory to Edmund. You wanted to lower your gaze as your eyes locked on Benedict. He clearly was staring at you, a puzzling expression on his face. Quickly lowering your gaze, you left the drawing room. Waiting outside in the hallway till you were called back in again to come and fetch Gregory.

You were putting Gregory to bed, tugging him in when you heard the door creaking open. You just thought it would be Violet or Edmund to give their son a goodnight kiss. – “I’m just putting him to bed, my lady.” – you said out loud, rubbing Gregory over his stomach. You didn’t hear an answer, making you wonder if you misheard the door opening. You turned around, startled by Benedict standing in the nursery with you. The fright made your back hit Gregory’s bed hard. – “My… my apologies Y/n, I didn’t mean to startle you.” – he spoke with a sheepish smile.

“It is quite alright my lord.” – you responded, keeping a hand on your beating heart. Trying to steady it down as there was no danger. You stepped aside for him to say goodnight to Gregory. – “I’ll let you say your goodnights.” – you told him. – “I…I actually came here for you, Y/n.” – Benedict replied making you widen your eyes. – “For… for me?” – Confused you didn’t understood what overcame the lord.

Benedict nodded as you walked away from Gregory. Leaving the room, closing it behind you. Standing in the nursery, you started to collect toys from the ground to clean up. – “I…I came here to talk to you about your…dreams.” – Benedict spoke.

Stopping mid-way, you were stunned. – “My dreams?” – you answered confused. – “I already told you I cannot afford dreams.” – you reminded him, continue to clean up the room. Benedict came nearer, wanting to look at your face. – “But you must have.” – he called out as you turned your posture away from him. – “I do not!” – you made clear, not wanting to engage with it further. Of course you had dreams. You were just taught to never express them. It wasn’t proper for a girl of your station to have dreams. To see the world in a different way for it would only cause heartbreak. Benedict went around you to look at you once more. – “Y/n you can tell me.” – he said as it infuriated you.

“Why are you so interested in whether I have dreams or not?” – you told him, looking him dead in the eye. Benedict swallowed hard, staring into your eyes. – “I am insignificant…” – you added in a softer tone, holding a few of Gregory’s toys. – “Because I can see it in your eyes.” – Benedict spoke, taking a few toys from you. Tossing them into the play chest. His answer made you enlarge your gaze in wonder. – “There is a whole world hiding inside of you.”  – he said. – “There is not.” – you sighed out, tossing the last of the toys in the chest.

Benedict grabbed for your hands as your first reaction was to pull away. Remembering your place all too well. Benedict grabbed them again, lifting them a bit up as you didn’t pull away this time. – “I cannot have dreams.” – you warned him. – “Open yourself up to it Y/n.” – he whispered out, pulling you gently closer to him. Pressing your lips together, shaking your head, you couldn’t give in to it. – “Close your eyes… it will help.” – he told you.

You sighed loud, finding it extremely silly. – “If… and I mean if I let it out, will you stop bothering me?” – you wanted to know as you couldn’t handle his pestering you over silly dreams. – “I can’t promise you that.” – he answered making you want to punch him in the shoulder. – “Who’s to say what your dreams will be?” – he added pulling his shoulders up cheekily. Exhaling loud, you hated yourself for giving into it. You closed your eyes, pulling your hands out of his. Fidgeting a bit with your skirt nervously. – “When I… I close my eyes…” – you started hesitant.

“I see…” – you added, opening your eyes with a deep sigh. – “I cannot do this.” – moving your hands up, you gave up. – “No, no, no Y/n you were doing wonderful.” – Benedict called out, wanting you to continue. – “This is insane.” – you told him. He simply gestured at you to begin anew, moving aside somewhere behind you. Taking in a deep breath, you closed your eyes again. – “Every night…” – you began, biting your lip nervous. – “The brightest colours fill my head.” – you added with a bit more confidence as you could see explosions of colours in your mind. 

“I think of what the world could be, a vision of the one I see. All those dreams for the world I want to make.” – you expressed with passion. Benedict stared at you, envisioning your dreams along. A smile curled up as he felt himself fall in love. Slowly you opened your eyes once more, feeling a bit embarrassed. You were afraid to look at him, wondering what he would think of you. Benedict walked up to you, leaving a quick kiss on your cheek.

“You’ve inspired me.” – was the only thing he said before running out of the nursery. Shocked, you gently touched your cheek where his lips had touched. Benedict ran up to his room, taking out a blank canvas. The entire night he worked. First with pencil, drawing your face from memory. Then the colours came. Staining his fingers as he blessed the canvas with wonders of colours behind you. As if the colours were bursting out of you. For the world you were going to make.

The next morning, you were startled when Benedict burst into the nursery. Panting loud. The first thing you noticed was the paint smudges on his fingers and face. – “You must come with me.” – he said, rushing up to you. He grabbed your wrist, pulling you up from the ground. Already tugging at you to come along. You protested a bit as Gregory still sat on the ground. – “Gregory, my lord!” – you said firm, pulling yourself free. You couldn’t leave him alone. Picking Gregory up, Benedict took you by the elbow, taking you along.

“My lord you promised to leave me alone.” – you told him as it wasn’t your place to be this close to him. – “I promised no such thing.” – he reminded you with a charming smile. You panicked a bit, hoping no one would see you. Benedict wanted to push you into his room as you gasped loud. Holding one hand firm onto the door opening, not wanting to enter any further. – “I cannot!” – you made clear, holding Gregory on your arm. – “You must.” – Benedict called out, pushing on your back to get you into his room.

“My lord I cannot.” – you tried to make him see, holding your position with every might. Benedict sighed deep, tickling you under your arm. It made you laugh, removing your arm from the frame as he could push you inside. You stumbled into his room, holding Gregory tight in your embrace. Benedict shut his door, approaching you. You blinked surprised when he took Gregory from you. Giving him a soft kiss against his cheek before setting him down. – “Go play Gregory.” – he said giving him a little pat on the back.

“Drawing?” – Gregory called out. Benedict collected some paper and pencils, laying it onto the floor for him to use. You hoped he had forgotten about you, yet he hadn’t. Benedict held his hand on your lower back, moving his hand before your eyes. – “My lord!” – you yelped out as you felt him push you forwards. Hands waving around as you hated stumbling in the dark. He positioned you in front of the painting. Removing his hand. It took you a moment to adjust your sight. Eyes widening with a gasp at the painting.

In shock, you turned round to him as he stood very close behind you. Blinking bashful, you stared into his eyes from how up close he was. – “You are my muse Y/n.” – he said moving his hand up against your cheek. Shocked by the touch, you stumbled back against the painting. Panicking as it started to wobble, but you quickly steadied it. You were afraid to turn back around, knowing you would get lost in his gaze. Something you weren’t allowed to do. – “My lord I must go.” – you said firm, stepping away from the painting. You felt a grip on your shoulder, making you spin around to him. Putting your spinning to a stop with both his hands around your arms.

You wanted to look away, but those eyes were enough to make you fall in love. Fall in love with someone you weren’t supposed to. Feeling yourself drawn to him as he made you dream. Dream of this beyond your control. Aware of what you were doing, you shook your head. Backing away. – “No… I can’t do this.” – you said returning to Gregory. – “For you.” – Gregory said, holding up his drawing as you picked him up. – “Y/n.” – Benedict called out as you took a run for it.

He reached his hand out to you, moving it up resting it closed against his forehead with a deep sigh. You hurried back to the nursery with Gregory hoping no one had seen you come out of the lord’s bedroom. Panting loud, you reached the nursery, closing the door behind you. Gregory held his drawing in front of your face, waving it to get your attention. – “What is this Gregory?” – you asked with a smile.

“For you.” – Gregory said as you accepted it. – “My lords, Gregory this is beautiful.” – you told him with a gasp. – “And it is all for me?” – you walked around the nursery with him. – “Like Ben?” – he asked you. It caught you off guard for a moment. – “As beautiful as your brother’s paintings.” – you told him, giving him a kiss against his forehead.

Benedict slowly opened the door, peaking his head inside the nursery. Looking around for any sign of life. Specially yours. – “Are you in here?” – Benedict whispered ready to enter more if it wasn’t for his brother’s voice startling him. – “What are you doing?” – Anthony asked with crossed arms. Benedict jumped out of his skin, turning quickly around, closing the door in the process. – “Lo…looking for Gregory?” – Benedict replied with a sheepish laugh.

Anthony quirked his eyebrow up. – “Gregory is in the garden with Daphne and Eloise.” – Anthony answered him. – “And… and his maiden too?” – Benedict asked, knowing it might be a dangerous question. It sure made his brother look questionable at him. – “Why is it of any significance if his maiden is around?” – Anthony wanted to know, moving his hands to his hip. – “Nothing for.” – Benedict replied, clearing his throat afterwards. – “I’ll… I’ll just go paint.” – he spoke making his way past Anthony. Anthony watching his brother leave with a quizzable brow. Unable to grasp whatever his brother possessed.

Benedict decided to take the long route to his quarters, hoping to encounter you. He passed his sisters room as the door was open. He paused, staring inside. Eyes locking on yours while you were making up the bed with another girl. You noticed him as well, staring back at him. He curled up a smile at you. You granted him a soft smile back before returning your gaze to your duties.

Benedict knew he should move, but he couldn’t help but keep staring. Watching you make up the bed. Whenever he looked at you, he felt inspired. Wanting to combine his dreams with yours. The girl and you finished up, leaving the room. Benedict moved aside to let you leave. The girl curtsied before him before taking off. You did the same wanting to follow her when you felt a grip on your wrist.

Taking a step back, you looked down at his hand around your wrist. Eyes meeting up with his, you knew it was wrong. Pulling your hand away, you broke free. – “My lord, you mustn’t let yourself get carried away. It is wrong.” – you told him. What would his family think. What would his reputation be after this.

“Y/n… please…” – he said reaching for you once more. – “I… I have to get back to work.” – you finalised taking your leave. Pressing your lips together, you stopped yourself from crying. Knowing you were letting yourself get carried away by these feelings. So caught up in the colours. You dove back in your work, trying to push Benedict out of your head. Preparing Gregory’s bath up in the nursery.

Hearing the door creak open, you had little time to react as you got spun around. Seeing in the flash of a second that it was Benedict as he pressed his lips on yours. Holding you firm by your waist. Using your elbows, you pushed him off. Touching your lips in shock. – “My lord!” – you shouted. – “You mustn’t. Think of your reputation. People like me don’t belong with people like you.” – you remined him. It was just unseen.

“I do not care.” – he breathed out with a shake of his head. – “Every piece of you fits perfectly. Why can’t you hold me? Why can’t I kiss you? I wish it could be like that.” – he said beggingly. – “I don’t want to hide it away. I wish we can be just us. Why can’t I say that I am in love? Every time I see you and cannot be with you, I die a little.” – he finished confessing. - “We know this, my lord.” – you responded with a saddened expression. –“It cannot be like this.” – turning your head away, you didn’t want to give in to it. Benedict turned your gaze back to him. – “I decide what I want and it is you, Y/n.” – he whispered out before kissing you once more.

Violet was humming a song whilst passing the rooms. Benedict’s room open as het gaze fell on something colourful. Her curiosity took the better of her, making her enter the room. Eager to see what her artistic son has been painting. Violet gasped at the glorious painting. It took her a moment to recognize the face. Looking down, her gaze fell on another drawing. Bending down, she took it, seeing it was another drawing of you. Then she found two, three more. A smile curling up on her face.

“Violet darling?” – Edmund called out from the hallway. Searching for his wife. Edmund noticed his wife in his sons room, entering as well. – “What are you doing in here?” – he asked smiling. Edmund came to her side, looking over her shoulder to Benedict’s drawings. His eyes widened, snatching the drawing out of his wife’s hand. – “What is this?” – he called out. 

“It’s Y/n, Gregory’s maiden.” – Violet answered with a smile. – “This is…” – Edmund began. – “wonderful.” – Violet filled in for him. – “Horrendous!” – Edmund corrected her, crumbling the drawing in his hand. – “Benedict!” – he shouted loud, stomping out of his room. – “Edmund!” – Violet came running after her husband with worry. – “Benedict!” – he repeated loud.

The door to the nursery opened as the door slammed into the wall. Startled, moved Benedict away from you. Edmund furious as he grabbed you by the wrist, pulling hard on you. You screamed, falling to your knees by him. – “Let her go!” – Benedict called out. Edmund presented Benedict with the crumbled drawing in his hand. – “Are you in love with a maid?” – he wanted to know. – “What is the matter?” – Anthony came joining the scene, having heard the commotion.

“Edmund let her go!” – Violet insisted upon. Edmund inhaled sharp through his nose, letting go of you. Violet ushered you over as you ran over to her. Falling onto your knees as you collapsed into her embrace. – “No son of mine is loving a maid!” – Edmund made clear. – “Benedict!” – Anthony called out, agreeing with his father onto this.

“Edmund that is enough! Our son can love who he wants.” – Violet responded to make her statement clear. – “I’ll have her dismissed!” – he threatened. – “It doesn’t matter what you’ll do, father.” – Benedict responded with a glare. – “I’ll run away with her and marry her. I’ll make sure you won’t find us and you’ll never see us again!”

“Edmund!” – Violet shouted to make things clear to her husband. – “Look at the drawing.” – she ordered him as Edmund refused. – “Look at the drawing!” – she repeated while comforting you. Edmund flattened the drawing, looking at it with an annoyed expression. – “Tell me that is not pure love you see. Don’t we aspire for our children to love for love. No matter where she comes from or her status. Our son loves her, isn’t that the greatest gift anyone can give their parents?” – Violet said, defending you at every might.

“Father.” – Anthony said not wanting his father to change his mind. Edmund sighed loud, dropping the drawing. – “Love her with every might.” – he told him before taking his leave. A sign of him accepting the relationship. – “Father?” – Anthony called after his father, leaving the room. Benedict looked over to his mother, thanking her. She let go of you, giving you a little nudge into his direction. Smiling hard, you ran up to Benedict, throwing your arms around him. He spun you around, overjoyed that he could finally love you like he wanted to.

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

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[leonsgfpost]

note: Hi! this is my third official post, crazy stuff. Thanks so much for all the support, I didn't think my trash was any good 😭 Btw, I hope you enjoy this too. English isn't my first language, so sorry if there's a mistake. 💕

tags: smut, comfort, insecurities, Leon is so cute, Leon x fem! reader, doggy style, orgasms and more!

Leon loves you madly. He really does. So every time you ask that question, "Do you love me?" he answers honestly, just because he can't tear his heart out and give it to you.

This man is capable of lowering the moon if you ask him to, he would do anything for you. He is honest, he doesn't lie. He wakes you up with soft kisses, on his days off he hugs you as if you were the only thing that keeps him grounded. You are everything to him.

And it's not that you doubt him, but different situations in your past led you to be insecure, to a sour whirlpool forming inside you about it. About him. Even now, when he's balls-deep inside you.

"Leon, Leon-" You murmured between ragged gasps, feeling his chest pressing hard against your back holding you in place. Taking every thrust he gave you. "Do you love me-?" And that feeling inside you came again. You felt like crying. Maybe from the pleasure, or maybe from the overwhelming sensations.

For a moment you think he doesn't hear you because of his current state. Heavy breathing, eyes tightly closed, body sweaty and his mind blank every time he sinks down to touch that spongy spot inside you.

But he wouldn't miss a hair of yours.

"I love you, I do, dear.... More than anything." He affirmed again, because he would repeat it to you every time you want. And the question sounds unreal in his fucked up head, of course he loves you. You're the only person he can open up to, show that young man who died inside him in 1998. He even took the audacity to have hopes, dreams again. Because next to you nothing seemed impossible.

"I love you, I love you." He murmured in your ear along with the low moans he couldn't contain, not when your walls were sucking him in so good. And I'd be lying if I said not now he's the one who wants to cry. He'd kiss every part of your body, kiss you all over until he could make you forget everything. Just like he does when he's with you.

His hips try to keep his deep rhythm, while his arms search for a way to embrace you to keep him grounded. Your ass is smacked by his pelvis every time he plunges in, over and over again with ambition. The wet sound of your wet pussy is the complete opposite of the cute words coming from Leon's lips.

"You're the only one for me, you're everything to me...Oh, G-God-" Now he started to ramble, trying to get his whole cock inside you until he can fuck your brains out and make you forget.

"Fuck, I love you, baby-!" His voice was already shaking, but I didn't know if it was from the effort of pushing you or the effort not to cry over you like a fucking baby.

"C-Come on, say you love me too." His voice tried to sound demanding, but it sounded like a plea. A desperate plea to know that you loved him too, because he wanted to be loved. He needed it.

"I love you, Leon. I-I love you, I love you so much." You said obediently, your voice coming out choked from having your face buried in the sheets. Your hair was disheveled, little beads of sweat trickling down your back and trembling thighs trying to support your weight. And little tears began to fill the corners of your eyes.

Maybe he had already fucked your brains out.

And Leon's chest tightened, pushing his lips carelessly into your hot cheeks. He was always so sweet even when he was fucking you like you were a slut. His cock bullying your bruised pussy again and again, because he couldn't catch a break. You were the air he needed to feel alive.

You made him feel alive.

As alive as he was now, as his hips began to quiver and his thrusts became sloppy, feeling his cock contracting tightly inside your walls. He could lose his mind right now for you.

His fingers moved down to play with your painfully throbbing clit, you let out a high pitched moan and your walls tightened feeling the familiar euphoria explode inside you, your orgasm coming in a sloppy way. Your body immediately relaxed into the sheets, trying to recover, but Leon wouldn't slow down, not when he was so close too.

He released your clit to run a sticky hand up to one of your tits, kneading it as if it were his own anti-stress toy. He carelessly kissed your wet cheeks and his hips pushed all the way in, releasing all his seed inside you. His cock contracted and discounted with spasms, giving you all of him.

"I love you." He whispered weakly, hugging you and trying not to fall on top of you. His heart beating fast in his chest, beating for you.

Because Leon Scott Kennedy loves you more than anyone. And he would devote every day of the rest of his life to prove it to you, if you let him.

were there too many "I love you"s? haha, sorry! But I can't help but think that Leon really needs a lot of love.

Let me know if u liked this, thanks!! 🎀💗

bye, bye (💌)

[springtyme]

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐀𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐬 ♡

based on a request from @what-the-jams asking for shy reader who starts crying when Eddie keeps complimenting her. it ended up a little different than first entended, but i hope you still like it <3

Eddie Munson x shy!reader || Masterlist || Eddie playlist

summary: Sometimes you have a hard time believing you deserve good things. Eddie thinks you deserve everything. He would gift you the moon and all the stars if you asked.

word count: 2.8k

warnings/tags: Shy and slightly insecure reader. Eddie being a total sweetheart. Fluff & comfort.

You sit cross-legged on the mattress of Eddie’s bed, your back supported by a fluffy pillow propped against the wall, the faint hum of the electric heater filling the room with a gentle warmth. Outside, the wind howls softly, rain rattling against the window panes, but inside, the atmosphere is warm and cozy.

The flickering light from the bedside lamp casts soft shadows, illuminating the little odds and ends that make the place feel so homely—band posters on the walls, scattered D&D manuals and notes for upcoming campaigns, and an old guitar propped in the corner. It’s cozy and intimate, and so, so Eddie.

Eddie is sprawled on the carpet, back flat against the floor as his tousled curls catches the dim, golden light from the nearby lamp as he strums absentmindedly on his guitar. He looks so carefree, lost in his world of notes and chords, a soft smile playing on his lips.

There’s a charming kind of chaos about him as he lays there—with his worn-out band t-shirt and mismatched socks peeking out from beneath his gray sweatpants. You sit quietly, taking in the sight of him completely absorbed in his music, and it warms your heart. 

You love being here, love being with him, sharing little moments like this with him, yet each time he looks your way, something inside you tightens. It’s been a little over a month since the two of you officially started dating, and even though you feel silly over it you’re still a little nervous around him. Not nervous in a bad way, though. It’s a kind of nervous excitement, a flutter in your chest that sets your stomach to churning. 

Eddie looks up, suddenly meeting your gaze, and the soft smile on his face widens as he sits up, guitar resting in his lap. “Hey,” he says, his voice light and playful.

“Hey,” you reply, a shy smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. 

 “What’s on your mind?” 

You clear your throat, searching for words. “Just… you know, this is nice,” you reply softly. The weight of your shyness makes your voice drop an octave, but Eddie seems to get it. 

“Yeah, it is,” he replies, leaning back on his hands, his gaze steady and encouraging as he studies you. “I got the coolest, prettiest girl in all of Hawkins sitting right here with me, couldn’t be much nicer than that.”

His compliment catches you off guard, a lump forming in your throat. You’re not used to guys being this nice to you. You’re used to guys either being way too pushy, just wanting something from you. Or the hasty conversations that usually fizzle out and just leave you feeling more alone than before. But Eddie—he’s different. His words wrap around you like a warm blanket, ideally suited for the weather outside, and the sincerity in all he says never fails to make your heart race and make shy butterflies flutter in your stomach. 

Words escape you, and all you can manage is a small smile of acknowledgement, before averting your gaze, looking down at your hands who are mindlessly fiddling with the hem of your sweater. Eddie’s brow furrows slightly as he takes in your reaction. 

“You alright, doll?” Eddie asks, removing the guitar from his lap and setting it aside before shifting closer to the bed.

You nod, but you don’t say anything.

He sits up on his shins, placing his forearms on the mattress and tilting his head to get a better look at you.  “You know, you don’t have to be so quiet around me.”  

A wave of warmth washes over you as you look up to meet his gaze again, his brown eyes filled with a mixture of concern and encouragement. There’s an openness about him, a willingness to understand without judgment, and it makes your heart swell.

“I’m just…” you fumble for words, “I’m not used to being around people like this.” 

Eddie leans forward, his eyes filled with a kind of warmth that makes your heart skip a beat. “People like what?” 

“People like you,” you murmur, your voice barely a whisper. 

“Like me..?” he repeats, and you can see the genuine curiosity in his gaze, mixed with something you are having a harder time identifying.   

You can’t articulate it. You can’t explain that he makes you feel seen, like you’re something worth looking at. You can’t put into words the way his eyes make you feel like you could melt, like you could fall into them and disappear.   

He’s probably thinking you’re being silly, you think. You can’t help but feel like a little bit of a mess around him, like your whole life has been a series of fumbled attempts to make sense of everything. 

“You just make me feel…” you start, but the words get caught in your throat.  You can’t even explain it to yourself, let alone to him.   

“I make you feel… what?” he prompts, and he’s sitting so close now that you can see the tiny freckles on his nose.   

He takes your hand in his, his fingers warm and rough against your skin. You try to pull back, but he holds on, not tightly, but encouraging, his gaze unwavering as he gives your hand a gentle squeeze. 

“Just tell me,” he says softly, his voice a low murmur, almost close to a plea. 

“You make me feel seen, and…” you begin before pausing for a moment, wanting to find the right words. “You just… you make it feel easy. Like I can just be myself without worrying about what you think.”

“That’s the point,” Eddie replies softly, his expression turning earnest. “I want you to be yourself. I happen to really, really, really like you, so you being yourself is kind of my favorite thing ever, actually.” 

“Oh…” The word slips from your lips, barely a sound. His words hang in the air between you. You can feel the weight of his sincerity. You try to speak, to say something more, but the words get caught in your throat. You’re not sure how to explain the jumble of feelings that erupts inside you, how he makes you feel so loved it almost scares you. 

 Instead, you sit there, heart racing, a swirling blend of admiration and gratitude crashing over you like waves. 

Eddie’s gaze doesn’t waver, staying locked onto yours with an intensity that makes your cheeks warm. “Baby, you okay?” he asks softly, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand, a gentle tether grounding you in the moment. 

The word ‘baby’ makes your stomach flip. It’s a term of endearment that’s only escaped his lips a handful of times, and each time it sends a shiver down your spine.

“I just…” you start, but the words get lost in a wave of emotion that crests in your chest. 

The intensity of his gaze, the way he looks at you like you’re something special, it overwhelms you, finally breaking the dam. Tears prick at your eyes, and you can feel the familiar tightness in your throat.   

“I…” you try again, but all that comes out is a choked sob. The sound, unexpected and embarrassing, makes you flinch. 

Eddie, who was leaning forward with a gentle smile, sits back abruptly, his eyes widening in alarm. “Hey, hey, hey,” he says, clearly trying to keep a gentle, soothing tone, but he can’t hide the panicked concern in his voice as he scrambles to his feet. “What’s wrong? Did I say something? Did I do something?” 

You can’t stop the tears that are now streaming down your face. You feel ridiculous, a grown woman crying over nothing. But you can’t help it. He’s just looking at you, and you feel like you’re going to burst. 

His face etched with worry as he sits down next to you on the bed, the playful Eddie you love replaced by a panicking version of himself. “Hey, talk to me, doll. What’s going on?” 

You try to speak, but all that comes out is a muffled sob. You find yourself unable to look at him, the weight of your emotions feels too raw, too exposed and you’re scared that you’ll break down completely. 

His hands find yours, his warm touch calming the storm brewing inside you. “Baby,” he whispers, “what’s wrong? Please look at me.”

You inhale deeply, trying to regain control of your emotions. You’re not sure why you’re crying.  It’s not like anything bad has happened.  It’s just… you’ve never had anyone make you feel this way before. You’ve never had someone hold space for your feelings, acceptance radiating from their very presence. The way he’s right there, ready to listen without judgment, feels overwhelming and comforting all at once.

You let out a shaky breath, finally meeting his concerned stare. The warmth of his hands wraps around yours, grounding you amidst the emotional storm. “I’m sorry,” you manage to say, your voice still thick with emotion. “I just… I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I’m crying. It’s just… I’ve never had someone care like this before.”

“Please don’t apologize,” he says gently, his thumb tenderly stroking the back of your hand. “I just got scared that I was an idiot and said something wrong, but please don’t ever apologize for crying.” 

His voice is soothing, wrapping around you like a warm hug as you fight to regain your composure. “When have you ever been an idiot?” you sniffle, but the ghost of a chuckle sneaks out as well. “You just… you don’t know how hard it is for me to believe that I deserve this,” you whisper, squeezing his hands for reassurance in the chaos.

“Hey, listen to me.” He slides a little closer, eyes never leaving yours. “You totally deserve this. You deserve everything. I mean you probably deserve way better than me, but you’ll just have to settle, cause I’m not letting you go that easily. You’re amazing, and trust me, I’m the lucky one for having you in my life.” His gaze is fierce, determined. 

His words hit you like a tidal wave, each syllable resonating deep within your chest. The raw sincerity in his voice pulls at your heartstrings, threatening to break the last piece of the dam of emotions you’ve been trying desperately to hold back.

“You really mean that?” you murmur, your voice almost inaudible but trembling with hope. You’re searching his eyes for any flicker of doubt, any hint that this is too good to be true.

“Absolutely,” he replies, emphatically squeezing your hands between his, as if willing you to believe him. “You’re not just ‘good enough’; you’re remarkable, and it’s about time you recognize that in yourself.”

His reassurance washes over you like a wave, and you take a deep breath, grounding yourself in this moment—the two of you, messy and real.

“Okay,” you whisper, and you feel a hint of a smile creeping onto your lips despite the tears. “I’ll try.”

“Good,” Eddie replies, relief flooding his expression. “Now, let’s do something about these tears.”

In one fluid motion, he reaches for his t-shirt, lifting it and swiping at your cheeks with the soft fabric. The gesture is so absurdly sweet, it catches you off guard, a laugh escaping your lips even as the tears continue to fall.

“See? Much better,” he grins playfully, and with that genuine smile, you feel the tension start to dissolve, laughter bubbling up as he wipes your wet cheeks with his shirt.

“You’re ridiculous,” you manage to say, but the warmth in your chest grows, your heart feeling a little less contracted. 

“And you’re gorgeous,” he shoots back, his look turning serious again, but the warmth flickering in his eyes gives him away. “Like how are you so gorgeous right now? I thought we as a species had agreed that we’re ugly when we cry.”

“Shut up, there is no way I’m not looking like a mess right now,” you protest. 

“Seriously, you’re gorgeous, even when you cry,” he insists, his eyes sparkling with warmth and sincerity as he leans closer again. “I love it. Well, not so much the crying part. But I digress. You’re still the most beautiful person I know, inside and out.”

“Shut up, I just stopped crying, you gonna make me start again,” you retort, but the corners of your mouth can’t help but lift into a smile despite your embarrassment.

Eddie chuckles, that beautiful, infectious sound that fills the room with light despite the rain pattering outside. “I can’t help it, I just call it how I see it,” he says, glancing at you with a playful challenge in his eyes. “Gorgeous and a little foolish—my two favorite qualities in a person.”

“Stooop…”  Your protests are half-hearted at best as you raise your hand to place it over his mouth, but he catches it before you can, kissing your palm before gently pulling it away. His lips linger on your skin for just a moment, sending a delightful shiver up your spine.

This moment feels surreal—warm, inviting, yet fragile, like a delightful whisper on the wind. Eddie brushes a stray tear away he missed before with the back of his hand, and you watch, entranced by the kindness etched in his expression. It reinforces the truth you had all but hidden from yourself; that you are deserving of love like this—real, constant, enduring.

The warmth of the moment settles comfortably around you both, like a familiar melody you want to keep playing on repeat. Eddie’s gaze lingers on yours, searching for any flicker of uncertainty that might still be lingering in your eyes. You can feel the weight of his attention, but instead of feeling exposed, it feels like a gentle embrace.

He is still holding your hand, gently stroking your knuckles with his thumb as if savoring every minute of this connection. The silence hangs between you, the world outside fading away, only the soft sounds of the rain and the warmth of Eddie’s presence anchoring you in this moment.

You take a breath, feeling the lingering remnants of tears giving way to a fragile, hopeful smile. “I really appreciate you, you know?” you say finally, your voice steadying. “For… everything. For being so patient with me.”

“You’re the one who always listens to me yapping about all my nonsense,” Eddie replies with a playful grin, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “So I think the appreciation goes both ways.”  

“Why don’t you show your appreciation with a kiss?” you ask, your heart racing at the sudden boldness of your request. It’s a teasing challenge wrapped in the sweetness of the moment, and you can’t help but smile mischievously at him, your vision still a little blurry from your tears, but he looks just as handsome as ever.

Eddie raises his eyebrows, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “A kiss, huh? That seems like a pretty good deal,” he muses, leaning in just a touch closer, maintaining that captivating eye contact. The sparkling twinkle in his eyes makes you feel like the world is narrowing down to just the two of you, and suddenly your heart feels impossibly full.

“Yeah,” you reply, emboldened by his teasing demeanor. “But I want it to be a good one. If you’re going to show your appreciation, you’ve got to make it count.”

“Oh, I’ve always got good kisses on hand,” he teases back, his tone light but laced with sincerity. His gaze flickers to your lips, and for a beat, the air thickens with something electric, igniting all those butterfly feelings within you.

He leans in slowly, giving you a moment to back away if you wanted to, but your heart races in anticipation. You can see the gleam of mischief in his eyes, but there’s also an undeniable sincerity, a deep affection that sends warmth radiating through you.

When his lips finally brush against yours, it’s soft and tentative, as if he’s savoring the moment, wanting to make it last forever. You respond instinctively, leaning into him, and the kiss deepens, solidifying the fluttering connection that was growing between you.

It’s a kiss that feels like an embrace, a connection that transcends everything else swirling around you—the rain outside, the doubts that live within your own mind, the uncertainty that once loomed heavy in your heart. It’s a kiss that communicates everything you had just struggled to articulate, a promise of understanding, tenderness, and a future filled with endless possibilities. 

When he finally pulls away, both of you are breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as the warmth of the kiss still reverberates between you.

“Wow,” he breathes, eyes wide and sparkling with a mix of surprise and delight. “See? That was definitely worth it.”

“Yeah,” you reply softly, a smile tugging at your lips.