#...i think i accidentally used more than two prompts in this one

[oftenlyshitposting]

wolfwren week day I | sparring + "are you following me?"

sabine hasn't been going out of her apartment much, as of late. she knows she really should, but she doesn't want to. the past couple of weeks have been rough; college and family wise. ahsoka and hera stops by every now and then, checking up on her.

well, more on ahsoka barging in with her spare keys, while hera actually knocks on her front door.

ahsoka and hera lives just across of her apartment, right on the same floor, just on the other wing. sabine, despite having dealt with ahsoka's multiple tresspassing offense the past weeks, is grateful for their close proximity to each other.

sabine doesn't think she can be truly alone now.

sabine rolls in her bed, huffing an exhausted sigh. she'd been awake since her alarm rung at nine, counting only about four or five hours of sleep. the little analog clock on her bedside drawer displays it's a little over twelve now, and she really should get up to eat something. preferably something solid.

her doorknob clacks, and sabine sighs a weak chuckle as ahsoka's voice echoes in, "oye, mija!!"

"aquí, 'soka," sabine drawls, half shouting as she stays slumped face down. she hears ahsoka locking the door and tossing the keys to her key bowls, and the unmistakeable sound of plastic brushing against fabric as ahsoka walks over to her room.

"dios, sabine," ahsoka sighed, sabine guessed from watching the current state she is in right now. or, her room, could be either or both. sabine felt the edge of her bed dipped, then ahsoka's hand on her back.

sabine hums against her pillow. "don't look at me with that look on your face, ahsoka."

"what look, 'bine?"

sabine shifts to lift her face slightly, side eyeing the older woman. "that look. like i need to be coddled."

ahsoka laughs, shaking her head. "i never thought you should. i know you don't." she pats sabine's back, gentle but firm enough as she says, "but, i am worried about you, mija. so is hera."

"don't worry, 'm fine." sabine drops her face back into her pillow. she knows that ahsoka knows she's lying straight through her teeth. ahsoka can't really be lied to, anyways. sabine is stalling.

ahsoka doesn't say anything, sighing. sabine guesses she has the usual sad-ish smile on her face. the bed creaks, and suddenly she felt ahsoka plopping on her back, making her groan at the sudden additional weight. sabine tries to get up, but ahsoka doesn't budge, only laughing at her attempt.

"ahsoka! what the hell are you doing?" sabine yells, falling back with a heavy 'oof'. "get off me!"

"i'm giving you a hug."

sabine grunts. "no, the fuck you're not! you're squashing me!"

ahsoka shifts, and for a second of false hope, sabine thought she was getting up from her. instead, ahsoka puts her entire bodyweight sabine, making the purple haired girl sink lower to the bed under her. "this is how i hug if you won't stop moping."

"gah! how the hell does hera deal with this?"

ahsoka hums, crossing her arm comfortably. "well, she doesn't mope, so she wouldn't know."

sabine grunts, struggling to rolling over so she wouldn't be on her stomach. she manages to partially shift her position to her side, glaring down at ahsoka. the older woman smirks back at sabine, whose face is flushed and hair wild from the struggle.

sabine shoves ahsoka away frustratedly. "you're pressing on my organs, you shit! ow!" she yelled, feeling mild pain when ahsoka's head is pressing below her ribs. "i think that's my fucking pancreas!"

ahsoka glares unimpressedly at sabine's dramatics. "like you know where your pancreas is, mija."

"it's–" sabine heaves through pushing ahsoka away, only to fall off from the bed ungracefully upside down, "wherever the fuck you just decided to squash." when ahsoka snickers from above the bed, sabine glares at her. "i'm gonna tell hera you bullied me today."

"snitch." ahsoka huffs, as she smacks sabine's legs on her bed as she gets up, walking out. "c'mon, let's eat. i brought your favourite."

sabine's head perks up. "spicy wonton soup?"

ahsoka shot her a look. "no. shrimp jibaritos."

sabine groans, and ahsoka merely shakes her head with a laugh as she exits sabine's room. sabine gets up from her awkward position, head spinning slightly. she sighs, stretching her aching limbs and back as she taps on a button. her curtains drew open, allowing sunlight to enter through her giant windows into her room.

she walks to her bathroom to freshen herself up, trying to ignore the tired eyes reflected on the mirror. when she gets out of her room, ahsoka is already sat on her couch, the tv set on a random channel, while murley sits on the armrest as the orange tabby cat gets lazy pats and scratches from her. the food is already sprawled on her coffee table, and sabine smiles a little.

sabine sat next to ahsoka, reaching over to grab the takeout drink, sipping it slowly. she mutters a small 'thanks', which ahsoka returns with a small hum. she eats in a comfortable silence, munching as she absentmindedly watches the tv. she can feel ahsoka eyeing her from the side, probably wondering the right time to ask her what's going on.

"tristan called me a few days ago," sabine starts, still half munching on the crispy jibarito. ahsoka tilts her head slightly towards her, silently indicating she's all ears. sabine sighs, before continuing, "the kid is trying his best, but my parents–well, my mom, really–doesn't even see it. mom said he doesn't want it enough, and still insists i should be the one to take over the company. i don't even fucking want it; i never did."

ahsoka's face remains neutral, but her eyes exhibits something akin to a mix of pity and sadness. she doesn't say much other than, "i'm still here," to encourage sabine to continue on with whatever she needs to tell ahsoka.

"tristan is literally doing exactly what i did, going to business school while taking so much responsibility in the company. he does it willingly." sabine exhales with her eyes shut, calming down her brewing emotional turmoils. "he's doing so much, but my parents stays blind to what he wants and ignoring what i don't want."

sabine threw her head back against the backrest of her couch, her half-eaten jibarito still sat in her hands. talking about her family always makes her lose her apetite and will to do anything. on worse days, sabine teeters on the edge of returning home and does whatever her mother tells her to do, just to stop all the problems and be done with it. but, sabine knows that's exactly what her mother wants.

for sabine to give up running and living her life.

"sorry about the sudden rant," sabine sniffs humourlessly, attempting to lighten up the mood.

ahsoka shook, merely placing a gentle hand on sabine's shoulder in a way sabine known as comforting. "you're alright, mija. you know what you're doing. i'm here to listen to you, and be there for you when you need me."

sabine's lips tugs to a small smile, nodding. ahsoka is right, as always. it gets overwhelming for her to deal with this on her own, having ahsoka and hera as her closest supports makes her more confident in tackling her problems. to have them to listen to her, is something sabine will always be grateful of.

"thanks, 'soka." sabine leans her head against ahsoka's broad shoulder, resuming her eating.

ahsoka only hums in return.

even when sabine doesn't have much of anyone, she still has ahsoka. the puerto rican woman has always been on sabine's side since she was a teenager; maybe even younger. sabine always looked up to ahsoka, someone like the older sister she never had.

ahsoka left sabine's apartment a few hours after they finished eating and did a bit of cleaning duty. she promised to pick hera up from her workplace, and sabine made a teasing remark that they are going on date night, which ahsoka merely responded with a shake of her head.

sabine had taken a well deserved shower and picked up on some of her college works, keeping her busy past dinnertime. she initially decided against cooking, feeling far too unmotivated for the task. but, she'd taken a look inside her fridge, and, well, some of her groceries are starting to get closer to their perishable dates. sabine ended up whipping a decent stir-fry, fridge cleanout style, and had it while finishing one of her essays.

still feeling remnants of stress lingering in her systems, sabine decided to head to the gym down the block to flush it out of her body for good. considering the last time she worked out was two weeks ago, her body has started to get achey and stiff with lack of active use.

the gym was empty by the time sabine got there, safe for a number of people who are either still working out, or are about to finish. it made sense, given it's already closer towards midnight. sabine drops her items off back at the lockers, and head straight to start her workout regimes.

sabine drowned in the routine, missing the gym slowly emptying, safe for her and another woman. she didn't pay much attention to her, too lost in the rhythm of her exercise and music, assuming it's just the night shift staff. she couldn't help feeling her fleeting gazes reflected on the mirrors, though.

sabine was just finishing up her routine, passing the boxing corner as she walks towards the lockers, when she saw her again. unmistakable bone-white blonde hair that's cropped just above her sturdy shoulders, now tied to a tight little ponytail. her eyes meet with stellar greenish-blue, forming faint crescents as a small smile crept up her lips.

"shin, hey!" sabine calls, widely smiling as she approaches the familiar blonde.

shin gestures a smile wave back at sabine from beside the punching sack, levelling her breaths. "hey, sabine," she returned when sabine is in front of her, "haven't seen you lately."

"yeah," sabine chuckles, "been insanely busy. swamped the whole week in my apartment."

"ah," shin nods understandingly, a wolfish smile on her lips, "that's a shame. the other day, somebody had knocked down the punching bag. i thought it was you again, but unfortunately, it was not."

sabine laughs, head thrown back. "oh, come on. still wouldn't let me live that one down?"

"well, it was an interesting event, no?"

"for you!"

shin's smile broke to a grin, echoed by a deep laugh. "okay, okay. i'll let it slide. for a price."

"oh?" sabine quirked a playful brow, shifting her weight to one hip. "what may that be?"

the blonde trainer presents a pair of boxing gloves at sabine, "spar with me?" with another of her wolfish, lopsided smile.

sabine crowed as she grabs the blue pair of gloves. "alright, you wanna add a little bet?"

"a bet?"

"yeah, y'know," sabine shrugs her shoulders, "just to make it a lil' more fun."

shin places a hand on her hip, interested. "okay, what do you have?"

sabine hummed. she wasn't thinking thoroughly and didn't plan this far out. she should settle for something small and simple. shin was patiently waiting for her, so she replies, "if i win, get the best shawarma down the third block with me."

"shawarma?" shin repeated with a humoured laugh, "this late? really?"

sabine raises her arms, chortling. "hey, it's just the idea on the top of my head!"

"okay, okay. agreed." shin nodded, then quirking a brow at sabine, accent slipping as she ask, "and if i win? what do i get?"

"you tell me! what do you want, gata?"

shin's eyes shift up as she appeared to be thinking, and sabine couldn't really help but find this blonde trainer slash gym staff... strangely endearing.

as shin tilted her head up slightly, sabine can note the myriads of moles scattered on her face like stars. sabine also noticed the sharp slope of shin's jawline, and her high cheekbones that highlights her stellar blue eyes. she likens shin to a pretty porcelain matryoshka in her mind.

shin then decides, "i think if i win, i get to have your number?"

well. that was certainly unexpected for sabine.

"m-my number? you want my number?" sabine flushes, repeating it with barely any eloquency.

"oh, um," shin flusters, appearing awkward, "uh, i'm sorry, i think i was a bit too forward. i thought you... aren't straight. i assumed you liked girls."

sabine's bursted out, "oh! fuck, i do! i love women!" she cringed when she registered what she had just blurted out loud, her brain clicking much too fast. "wait, that's not what i meant. i mean yes, i do like girls because i'm not straight. i was just... not expecting you to ask about my number...?"

shin's ears are dusted in pink, and it really doesn't help sabine to calm herself down. with a shy smile, the blonde replies, "i just figured it'll be easier to find me if you ever need to hit the gym during my shift?"

"i agree," sabine laughs, entertained. "alright then. best of three wins?"

shin had already hopped onto the ring, smiling confidently down at sabine. "sounds good to me."

when they sparred, it's a lot more playful and less intense as their first time. sabine had picked up more of shin's stances and fighting cues, reading her better than the first time. shin is still as acrobatic as always, but sabine managed to keep up with her this time. at some point, just before sabine's muscles gave out, she cornered shin and pinned the blonde by locking her arms and legs with her own.

"wanna yield?"

sabine's lips were right next to shin's exposed ears, her arms locking the blonde's shoulders. they were both breathing heavily, skin to skin close on the boxing ring's mat. sabine noticed shin's face and ears flushed red, but didn't think much of it, assuming it was caused by the heavy breathing from getting locked on top of sabine.

shin, surprisingly, managed to handle herself out of sabine's lock. with a swift motion faster than sabine could've anticipated, shin had reversed their positions, this time pinning sabine down on her stomach with an arm on her back and another above sabine's head. with bated breaths and a triumphant smirk, shin replies, "do you wanna yield?"

sabine's brain is all scrambled; the way shin had pinned her down and the distance from the blonde trainer's lips from her ear aren't helping her form any thoughts or whatsoever. she could only tap her pinned hand on the ring's floor, signalling defeat. only when shin lets her grip go, sabine admits, "i didn't think you'd flip the switch on me. how'd you do it?"

"you had your tricks, i have my own," shin cheekily replies, skipping backwards to grab a water bottle. "you put a good fight, but that's one to one already."

"damn," sabine jumped back to her footings, head tilted in disbelief, "really? that fifth kickflip didn't count as my second point?"

shin laughs, carefully tossing the water at sabine. "unfortunately, no. i didn't yield, did i?"

sabine drinks the water, briefly remembering shin had drank from the same bottle as well, causing her brain to short-circuit momentarily. through her brain-fart she manages, "are you always this stingy?"

"only when i'm sparring with pretty woman." shin shrugs nonchalantly, lifting the bottom edge of her tank to wipe sweat off her face. the motion revealed her toned stomach, which sabine had to fight tooth and nail to not stare for too long.

"um…" sabine began lamely, her mouth definitely haven't caught up with whatever thoughts formed in her lagging brain. she tries again, "so… i guess another stalemate, then?"

"looks like it." shin sighs, a small smile on her lips. "sparring you got me beat, actually. i would love for another round to see which of us could win, but i've got to clock out."

sabine, finally catching her charisma again, cheekily returns, "aw, shame. i'd love to pull your own little trick on you."

"you'll get your chance."

sabine stayed until shin finishes cleaning up and clocking out, walking out the gym with the blonde trainer towards her go-to shawarma place down the block. they exchanged stories, learning more about each other and their day to day's over two chicken shawarmas.

at the end of the night, after parting with shin at a crosswalk, sabine has a new contact in her phone.

and after that, sabine began finding shin in a lot of other places she goes to in the city. all by chance.

tuesday morning, at an indie coffeeshop downtown. sabine was there to grab a cup of coffee and the best (in her opinion) lox bagel within three mile radius. shin was at the counter picking up her order; a cup of honey cinammon tea latte.

(sabine told her the brown-butter croissant would go heavenly well with shin's drink.)

the thrift store two blocks down from sabine's. it was a friday afternoon and sabine was out looking for another heavy flannels because ahsoka doesn't seem like she'd return her (favourite) grey heavy flannels. just as she was heading to the jackets' aisle, she bumps into shin, who was trying out a patchwork denim jacket.

(shin laughs when sabine said that the patchwork denim jacket isn't gay enough for either of them.)

on a wednesday evening, sabine was just riding her bike towards a park, mildly stressed out and in need of a cigarette break. at the smoking area, shin was there, sitting with a lit stick twiddled in her fingers. when the blonde trainer met sabine's gaze, she laughs with a shook of her head.

"didn't think i'd find you in this janky park, too," sabine quipped teasingly, lighting up a stick.

"be honest with me now," shin replies with an equally teasing note, earning a humoured eyebrow raise from sabine, "have you been following me, sabine?"

sabine laughs out loud, head thrown back. "does it really look like i do?"

shin nods her head, taking a drag of her cigarette. "it does. so, are you?"

"i don't even know you smoked too!" sabine refuted, pointing at their lit sticks, smoke rising slowly. she tries her hardest to not stare at the way the damn cigarette sits so prettily in shin's slender finger. she then adds, "i swear, it's like i'm just gonna run into you anywhere."

"okay, fair enough," shin agrees, raising her hands, before cheekily saying, "but to be fair, i am eastern european. we and the balkans chainsmoke like steam trains, you know."

sabine chokes midway dragging her smoke, combusting a choppy laugh-cough. "shin!" when shin only mirrors her laugh, she nudges the blonde's shoulder. "you're ridiculous."

"sorry?" shin offered jokingly. she took the last drag before tossing the stubbed filter to the tray next to her, leaning down to meet sabine's face. "seriously, though. i don't think of you as someone who smoke as well. you okay?"

"yeah..." sabine exhales a huff of smoke, offering a tight-lipped smile back at her, before shrugging unsurely. "i dunno, 'm just been hella stressed. i usually hit this park after riding around at night."

shin shifts closer to sabine. "you ride?"

sabine nods. "custom made triumph."

"wow, you're even more ukrainian than i am."

sabine laughs. "seriously?"

"oh, yeah. definitely." shin flashes a wolfish smirk (and by god, it made sabine's chest race because it's so unreasonably attractive).

"i think it's 'cause i'm gay, shin," sabine joked, which the blonde returned with a humoured chuckle.

"that much, i can see."

"so," sabine began, stubbing her dead stick, lighting another one she fished from the pack beside her, "why am i finding you in this janky ass park? you got something goin' on, hermosa?"

shin shrugs, contemplating. she then sighed, curt and tired. when she spoke, her accent was heavy, "college assignment deadlines catching up on my ass. i've got this... what do you call it? survey-based research paper thing... it's kind of hard to gather the right pool of people to ask. it's just that, really."

"ah," sabine understood, knowing exactly where shin was coming from, "yeah, i feel ya. i had that too for my statistics lecture back in my fourth sem. kicked my ass so bad for a week, 'soka had to search and rescue me from my own apartment."

the frown on shin's face dissipates into a laugh; carefree and sweet kind of chuckle, which doesn't really help much in easing up sabine's stomach butterflies. sabine's cigarette long forgotten, ashes falling softly from where it was lodged between her fingers, opting to study shin's face instead.

shin's greenish-blue eyes meets sabine's.

"qué lindas…" sabine murmured under her breath, not really conscious or mindful about her volume.

shin smiles. "mmm… gracias."

sabine blinks. "you speak spanish?"

"not really, but i have a pair of eyes and a brain."

"i– okay, fair enough."

shin tucks a stray hair behind sabine's ear, sending static down her spine. the blonde's accented voice was barely above a whisper as she says, "як мило."

sabine doesn't understand, but damn.

that did things.

well, shit, sabine thinks.

[mythicalmaven]

19 Lando fluff and smut please

Secret Desires - Lando Norris

Loved writing this! <3 If you guys want a part 2 where the whole ordeal continues (including Lando’s awkward encouter with Max) let me know!😂❤️

Masterlist ↳pairing: Lando Norris x female!verstappen!reader ↳word count: 4,6K ↳Summary: In which the reader is Max Verstappen's twin is Lando's friend & he accidentally confesses some things to her while he's drunk. The day after when he apologizes, it leads to something more. ↳content warnings: friends to lovers, reader is Max Verstappen's twin, lando is drunk and accidentally confesses something to the reader, suggestive content, flirting, dirty talk, sexting, sending nudes, phone sex, masturbation (both f! & m!), praise kink, fluff, smut, 18+ (MDNI!), confessing feelings ↳prompts used: 19 - "Do you have any idea how many times I thought about you.. with my hand down my pants"

You sighed deeply, sinking back into the comfort of the guest bed in your older sister's house, the covers wrapping around you like a warm embrace. The room felt different compared to your Monaco apartment, but it was cozy, filled with the nostalgia of growing up with your family as you saw the pictures hanging on the wall. Pictures of your parents, of you and your twin brother Max, of you and Victoria & so on.

You traded your own bed for the guest bedroom at Victoria's house back home in the Netherlands for the week, to spend some time with your sister again to catch up. After a long night of chatting with Vic, you finally decided to call it a day, though sleep was far from your mind.

Just as you were about to close your eyes to at least give sleeping a try, your phone lit up on the nightstand, a soft buzz drawing your attention. You reached over lazily, expecting a random notification, but your heart skipped a beat when you saw the name flashing on the screen: Lando

Your best friend, your partner in crime, and the guy you’d been secretly in love with for longer than you’d care to admit. The guy who made your heart race with a single smile and had you questioning your sanity every time you felt his touch linger just a little too long. Even though you refused to admit it to anyone with a passion. Stating that the way you felt about Lando was nothing more than two flirtatious friends. You knew you were lying to yourself and your facade was starting to crumble. And now he was texting you, at this hour?

Unlocking your phone, you were met with not one, but several messages from him. You squinted at the screen, reading the texts slowly as they loaded, your eyes widening more with each one.

Lando: Y/n… Lando: Fuhk.. why are you sooooo hotttt? 🥵 Lando: Do yhu have any idea howw many tiems I thout about you… with my hnd down my pantss Lando: *1 image attached* You felt your face heat up instantly, a wave of flustered shock washing over you. He send a photo that you had posted on your story on Instagram today, a photo of you in a cute bikini set at the pool at Vic's house.

What the hell? Lando was… Was he really saying what you thought he was saying? Your mind spun, trying to process the drunk, typo-riddled texts. You knew he must have had a few too many drinks tonight; he mentioned going out to a party with the grid earlier. But this?

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, your heart racing as you tried to think of a response. A thousand emotions crashed through you at once—embarrassment, confusion, a thrill of excitement. You could barely breathe.

You: Lan, you're drunk as fuck. Go to sleep 😂

you typed back quickly, hitting send before you could second-guess yourself. You barely had time to process your own message before another one from Lando popped up.

Lando: Drunk on love 🤭

Your heart did a somersault in your chest, and you felt your cheeks burning even hotter. What was he doing? Your pulse thudded loudly in your ears as you stared at the screen, fingers frozen above the keyboard, unsure of what to say. Before you could collect your thoughts, your phone buzzed again, but this time, it was a call.

Max’s name flashed on the screen.

You answered, bringing the phone to your ear. “Max, what the hell—”

“Sorry dat ik zo laat bel,” (sorry for calling at this time) Max's voice was low and slightly slurred with a laugh. “Maar ik zag dat je online was, dus dacht, jij bent nog wakker. Wilde je alleen even een seintje geven dat de kans vrij aannemelijk is dat je vannacht nog dronken appjes krijgt van Lando.” (But I saw that you were online, so I figured you were still awake. Just wanted to give you a heads up that it's very likely that you'll receive some drunk texts from Lando tonight)

You rolled your eyes, stifling a laugh of your own. Of course, your twin brother knew exactly what was happening. “De kerel is echt gewoon laveloos en hield zijn mond maar niet dicht over je. De hele rit terug naar zijn apartment bleef hij maar zeuren over hoe hij je moest appen over iets geheimzinnigs. Dacht ik waarschuw je even.” (The guy is absolutely hammered and he wouldn't shut up about you. Kept yapping about how he had to text you about something secretive. Thought it would be nice to warn you)

“Te laat, is al gebeurd” (too late, he already did) you replied with a chuckle, glancing back at Lando's messages. “Had al zo’n vermoeden dat hij dronken was haha.” (I already figured he was drunk)

“Dacht ik al,” (I thought so) Max chuckled. “Hou het een beetje netjes, ja? Ik wil hier niet meer van weten dan ik al doe.” (Please keep it decent, yeah? I don't want to know any more about this than I already do)

You could almost hear the grin in his voice. “Maar ik moest hem echt thuisbrengen, de jongen was niet meer te houden.” (But I just had to bring him home, couldn't keep him at bay anymore)

“Dank je, Max,” (Thanks, Max) you said softly, biting your lip. “Je bent een goede broer.” (You're a good brother)

“Altijd,” (Always) Max replied. “Ik moet wel weer ophangen nu, voordat ik Kelly en P wakker maak. Succes met je dronken vriendje.” (Gotta hang now tho, before I wake up Kelly and P. Good luck with your boyfriend)

“Max, hoe vaak moet ik nog zeggen dat Lando en ik gewoon vrienden zijn” (Max, how often do I have to tell you that Lando and I are just friends) you said, rolling your eyes.

"Als jij jezelf niet zo voor de gek hield, waren jullie al lang samen" (If you didn't keep lying to yourself, you two would have dated a long time already) and with a last chuckle, he hung up.

You flopped back onto your bed, your mind racing, Lando’s texts still staring at you from the screen. Your fingers shook as you picked up your phone again, reading his words over and over, your stomach flipping with nerves and something else, something hotter, more dangerous.

With a deep breath, you tried to shake it off. Lando was just drunk, you told yourself. He didn’t mean it. It didn’t mean anything… Right? But the way your heart fluttered at the thought of him thinking about you like that, the way your skin prickled with excitement at the idea that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way…

You forced yourself to put the phone down, closing your eyes and trying to ignore the wild thoughts racing through your mind. It was late, and you needed to sleep. But as you drifted off, your dreams were anything but peaceful. Lando's words echoed in your mind, and you found yourself imagining all the things he might have done while thinking about you, the way he might have said your name, the way his hands might have—

You woke up, flustered and breathless, your body tingling in a way that was all too familiar. The morning sun was peeking through the curtains, but all you could think about was Lando, and the way his words made you feel things you’d tried so hard to ignore.

Around the same time, somewhere in Monaco, Lando jolts awake.

"Fuck" the single word comes out as a hiss, his head pounding from the hangover. His phone screen glares back at him, a series of messages and a notification from Max catching his blurry gaze. He squints, his heart starting to race as fragmented memories of the night before come flooding back.

He fumbles to unlock his phone, praying he didn’t do what he thinks he did. But the evidence is right there, the bold lettering of your name above the most mortifying message he could ever have sent, full of typos, but easily desiphered as 'Do you have any idea how many times I thought about you… with my hand down my pants?'

“Shit, shit, shit,” he mutters, running a hand through his messy curls, anxiety flooding his system. What the fuck had he done? His fingers move of their own accord, tapping out a frantic apology.

Lando: Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry.

You: Good morning to you too. How is your headache? 😉

He cringes at the situation, a mix of playful and mocking. His mind races, grasping at straws to somehow make this situation less embarrassing.

Lando: I don’t even remember sending that. I’m so fucking sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, pretty sure I wasn't thinking at all. I didn’t mean it.

A lie. He did mean it. But he’s not ready to admit that just yet.

You: Oh, you definitely weren’t thinking, lol. But hey, maybe you should apologize to Max too, since you apparently spilled some beans about me to him. 😆

Lando’s eyes widen, horror painting his features. “Oh, fuck,” he groans, rubbing his forehead. He types back, heart racing.

Lando: What did I say? Please tell me I didn’t—

You: Relax, nothing too scandalous. Just enough for Max to find it disgusting.

Despite himself, a small laugh escapes his lips. He can picture Max’s reaction, the exaggerated gagging, the inevitable jokes he’ll have to endure.

Lando: I’m so sorry. Are you mad at me? I don’t want you to think I’m some idiot who can’t control himself.

You: Nah, I’m not mad. You were drunk, it’s not like you meant it anyway, right?

He swallows hard, your words hitting too close to home. A dry response forms on his screen.

Lando: Yeah, sure.

But deep down, he knows it’s not true. He’d thought about you like that more times than he cared to admit, a dangerous longing simmering beneath the surface of your friendship.

You: Hey, at least now I know I looked hot in yesterday’s bikini post.

Heat floods his cheeks. You’re playing it off, but there’s a hint of something in your words, a subtle curiosity. He swallows, fingers hovering over the keyboard before he types back, heart pounding.

Lando: Stating the obvious.

He can’t help the grin tugging at his lips as he imagines your reaction. It’s risky, but you don’t seem upset, and he’s willing to test the waters.

You: Oh? So you think I’m hot?

Lando: Didn’t know that was up for debate.

He’s toeing the line, the thrill of it sending a spark through him.

Lando: U really not mad? I’d hate to make you uncomfortable.

You: Mad? Nah. Flattered, maybe.

He blinks at your response, surprise mingling with a rush of arousal. Flattered? His mind reels, thoughts scrambling as he tries to figure out what to say next.

You: I have to admit tho, when I first got that message, I thought you’d sent something different than my own instagram post…🤭

His breath catches, heart skipping a beat. The implication is clear, and he feels himself growing hard at the mere thought of you expecting a more explicit photo from him. He shifts uncomfortably, typing out a teasing response.

Lando: So, you’re saying you opened it anyway, even though you thought I sent you a spicy picture? 😉

You: Shut up.

He laughs, imagining the flustered look on your face. It’s too easy to picture, and he leans back against his pillows, biting his lip.

Lando: Where are you?

You: In bed. Why?

Lando's breath got caught in his throat. A dangerous idea takes root in his mind, one that’s equally thrilling and terrifying. He knows he should stop, should draw the line before it goes too far. But something in your responses, the playful edge, the hint of curiosity, makes him want to push further.

Lando: Just curious. 😉

His mind races, and before he can second-guess himself, he snaps a quick photo. It’s not much,—just him lying back on his bed, shirt unbuttoned halfway, his abs on display and his hair a mess. He was still wearing the same outfit as yesterday, apparently not changed out of it. But there’s something undeniably suggestive in the way he looks at the camera, the flush on his cheeks, a knowing smile on his lips as he sends it with a caption.

Lando: I can send you one for real if you want to see one.

His heart hammers in his chest as he waits for your response, the seconds dragging by agonizingly slowly. Then your reply comes in, teasing and playful.

You: Kinda daring coming from the guy who was apologizing 10 minutes ago for accidentally sending his best friend a text about thinking about her with his hand down his pants😉

Your words send a thrill through him, the boldness of it, the way you’re not backing down. He can’t resist pushing a little further, fingers trembling with anticipation.

Lando: You didn’t seem too disgusted by it.

The moment stretches out, his breath catching as he waits for your reply. The tightness in his dress pants becoming significantly worde.

When it comes, it’s more than he expected. 

You: I wasn’t. Actually, it was kinda hot.🫣

His eyes widen, arousal spiking as he reads your words again and again, disbelieving. Is this really happening? 

Lando: Yeah?

You: Yeah.

He swallows hard, a wicked idea forming in his mind. He glances down at the growing bulge in his pants, his arousal straining against the fabric. His hand moves almost on its own, snapping a quick picture of his hand palming himself through his dress pants, the outline of his erection unmistakable.

Lando: What about this? Still hot?

Your response is almost immediate.

You: Fuck, yes.

The words send a shiver down his spine, desire flaring as he imagines your reaction, the way you must be looking at your phone. He wants more, needs more.

Lando: Your turn.

There’s a pause, then a photo comes through. His breath hitches at the sight of you, flushed and flustered, the soft curve of your cleavage visible just above the red lace of your bra. It wasn't too naughty, but enough to send Lando reeling. 

He groans, his hand moving down to rub himself through his pants, a low moan escaping him as he imagines what’s beneath that thin fabric.

Lando: Fuck, babe, you’re killing me.

You: Good.

The playfulness in your response only fuels his desire, and he knows he should stop, should take a breath before this spirals out of control. But he doesn’t want to. Instead, he hits record on his camera, aiming it down at his crotch as he begins to palm himself through the fabric.

The video is short, just a few seconds of him rubbing himself, a low groan slipping from his lips. He ends it with a whispered “fuck,” his hand slipping beneath the waistband of his pants to give himself a teasing stroke before the video cuts off.

He sends it without thinking, heart racing as he imagines you watching it, the way your breath might hitch, the way you might bite your lip.

You: You’re really enjoying that, huh?

His breath hitched at your words, every sensation heightened as he slowly works himself up and down inside his dress pants, unable to contain the soft groans leaving his lips.

Lando: I do. Feels amazing... I wish you were here with me.

His hand is shaking now as he types out his next message, his arousal growing with every word.

Lando: Show me more.

There’s a beat of silence, and then another picture comes through. This one is more daring, more revealing. You’re under the blankets, one leg exposed, the other hidden beneath the covers. The waistband of your red panties is just visible above the edge of your blanket, your hand resting suggestively on your lower stomach, fingers reaching just into your panties.

Lando: Fuck, babe, that's so hot

Lando's breath catches as he stares at the photo you sent, his mind racing with all the things he wants to say, all the things he wants to do. He decided to take the leap and press the button to send you a facetime request. You accept it almost immediately, his heart pounding as your face fills the screen. You look flustered, lips slightly parted, and he swallows hard.

“Hi,” you say, your voice breathless, almost shy.

“You’re really fucking beautiful, you know that?” Lando murmurs, his voice thick with desire as he admired your flushed face.

You blush, your eyes darting away from the screen for a moment before you look back at him. “I think you’re the one who’s supposed to be embarrassed right now, not me.”

He grins, the playful tone of your voice sending another jolt of arousal through him. “Oh, trust me, I’m plenty embarrassed. But I’m also…” He hesitates, his gaze dropping down for a moment before he meets your eyes again, his voice dropping to a lower, huskier tone. “... really turned on.”

Your breath catches, and he watches as you shift on the bed, the movement causing the camera to reveal a little bit more of your cleavage and the red lace bra you were wearing. His eyes are drawn to the exposed skin, mesmerized by your body.

“What are you wearing?” The question slips out before he can stop it, his eyes dark with desire.

You glance down at yourself, then back at him, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. “Not much.”

He groans, his hand tightening around his phone. As he speaks, his other hand drifts back down, brushing over the ever-growing bulge in his pants again. “Can I see?” The words are thick with anticipation, his voice trembling slightly as he palms himself, the sensation sending a wave of pleasure through him. He bites his lip, letting out a quiet moan that he can’t quite suppress.

You hesitate, your teeth worrying your bottom lip as you consider his request. Then, slowly, you change your camera angle and pull the blanket down just a little, revealing the soft skin of your stomach, the red lace of your panties, the soft curve of your thigh. Lando feels a jolt of arousal shooting through him, and he has to bite back a groan. It’s just enough to tease, to make him want more. 

“Fuck, Y/N…” His voice is rough, strained, as he shifts on the bed, the fabric of his pants suddenly feeling too tight, too restrictive. His hand presses harder against his length, his breath hitching as the friction sends sparks of pleasure shooting through him.

You giggle, your eyes sparkling with a mix of nervousness and excitement. “You like what you see?”

“Like?” He shakes his head, his eyes glued to the screen. “I fucking love it.”

Your cheeks flush a deeper red, and you lean back a little, giving him an even better view of your body. His mouth goes dry as he takes in the sight of you, the way the red lace clings to your skin, the hint of cleavage peeking out from beneath your bra. He can see the way your chest rises and falls with each breath, the anticipation, the arousal clear in your eyes.

“Your turn,” you murmur, your voice barely more than a whisper, but it’s enough to send his heart racing.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. With one hand still holding his phone, he shifts back on the bed, his other hand moving to the waistband of his pants. His fingers fumble with the button, his hands shaking slightly as he pops it open, his eyes never leaving your face.

Your breath hitches as he unzips his pants, his erection straining against the fabric of his boxers. He pauses for a moment, his eyes flicking up to yours, seeking permission. When you nod, he slides his hand into his boxers, his breath coming out in a shaky exhale as he wraps his fingers around his length.

“Fuck…” The word slips out as he strokes himself slowly, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he forces them open again, needing to see your reaction. His voice trembles, laced with a mix of desire and restraint, each moan escaping his lips growing louder as he quickens his pace.

Your eyes are wide, your lips slightly parted as you watch him, your hand moving down towards your panties on their own accord, fingers brushing lightly over the fabric “Fuck, that's hot, Lando…”

He groans at the sound of his name on your lips, his boxers now pushed low enough to reveal his cock, hand moving faster, the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting through him. “Touch yourself for me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “Please.”

You bite your lip, waiting just a moment before you slip your hand beneath the waistband of your panties, a soft gasp escaping you as your fingers make contact. The sight of you, the way your body arches slightly, the soft, breathless sounds you make, is almost too much for him.

“Fuck, babe, you’re so fucking hot…” His voice is barely more than a growl as he watches you, his own hand moving faster, the pleasure building inside him, threatening to spill over.

“What would you do to me if I was right there?” you ask, your voice a breathless whisper.

His eyes darken, his grip tightening around himself. “I’d start by kissing you, slowly… working my way down your body.” His voice is rough, each word laced with longing. “I’d touch you everywhere, make you feel so good. Then I’d…” his words getting cut off by his own moan.

“Tell me,” you encourage, your own voice trembling with need.

“I’d bury my face between your legs, make you scream my name,” he groans, his strokes becoming more erratic as he imagines it, his mind filled with nothing but thoughts of you. “F-Fuck, I want you so bad.”

You moan at his words, your fingers moving faster as you picture it, your body aching for his touch. “Lando, I…”

“Keep going,” he whispers, his voice thick with desire. “Tell me what you’d do to me.”

“I’d touch you,” you breathe, your voice trembling as your fingers move in sync with his. “I’d wrap my fingers around you, just like you’re doing now… make you feel so good, Lan”

He whimpers at your words, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he imagines it, the sensation of your touch almost too real. “Fuck, Y/N, I need you…”

“Imagine it’s my hand, Lan” you whisper, your voice laced with seduction. “Imagine I’m right there with you…”

His moans grow louder, his hips bucking into his hand as he follows your words, his mind filled with nothing but thoughts of you. “I’m so close…”

“Me too,” you whisper, your breath hitching as you feel the pleasure building, your body trembling with anticipation.

“God, you’re amazing,” he pants, his voice filled with praise as he watches you, every movement driving him closer to the edge. “You’re so perfect… I want you so bad…”

Your voice is a breathless moan as you reach the brink, your body arching off the bed as the pleasure consumes you "F-Fuck, Lan, I'm coming"

“Fuck, baby, I’m right there with you…” His voice is ragged, his body tensing as he teeters on the edge, every muscle tightening in anticipation. You watch, breathless, as his hand moves faster, more desperately, his grip tightening around his length.

Then, with a strangled moan, he tips over the edge. His hips jerk, and his head falls back against the pillows as he cums, thick ropes of it spilling out and covering his abdomen. You can see the way his abs contract with each pulse, his hand still working himself through every last wave of pleasure, milking himself until he’s spent. His eyes remain locked on yours, his breathing heavy, a mixture of satisfaction and lingering desire in his gaze as you both ride the waves of your shared climax.

For a few moments, the only sound is your ragged breathing, both of you staring at each other through the screen, the intensity of what just happened hanging heavy in the air.

“Fuck…” He laughs breathlessly, his head falling back against the pillows as he runs a hand through his hair. “That was…”

“Amazing,” you finish for him, your own laughter bubbling up, your cheeks still flushed, your body still trembling slightly from the aftershocks. “Holy shit, Lando…”

“Yeah.” He grins, his heart still racing as he looks at you, the reality of what you just did slowly sinking in. “Are you… okay?”

You nod, your smile softening as you look at him. “Yeah, I’m okay. More than okay.”

His heart swells at your words, relief flooding through him. He’s about to say something else when you shift on the bed, the blanket slipping down a little further, giving him a glimpse of your bare shoulder.

“Lando,” you murmur, your eyes meeting his through the screen, a mischievous glint in your gaze. “If that was just a taste, I can’t wait to see what happens when we’re see each other again.”

The promise in your words sends a shiver down his spine, his mind racing at the thought of having you, really having you, right in front of him. 

“Fuck, Y/N, you have no idea what you’re doing to me…” His voice is a low whisper, his eyes still dark with desire.

“Maybe I have an idea,” you tease, your smile widening as you settle back against the pillows, your gaze never leaving his. “When I fly back to Monaco in a few days, maybe you should pick me up from the airport... and then we can do this again, but then in real life”

His heart skips a beat at your words, excitement and anticipation flooding through him. “You mean that?”

You nod, your smile softening, your eyes filled with a tenderness that makes his chest ache. “Yeah, I mean that. I want you, Lando. All of you.”

His breath catches, the sincerity in your voice, the way you’re looking at him, making his heart race. He knows, in that moment, that this isn’t just about sex, about fulfilling a desire that’s been simmering beneath the surface for years. It’s about more, so much more.

“Y/N… there’s something else I need to tell you,” he says, his voice steady but laced with emotion.

Your gaze softens, sensing the seriousness in his tone. “What is it, Lando?”

He hesitates for just a moment, gathering his thoughts before he continues. “I’ve been in love with you for so long. It’s not just about my text last night or about what we just did. I've been feeling like this for a while. It’s everything. Every time we’ve laughed together, every time you’ve supported me, every time I’ve seen you smile... I’ve been falling for you more and more.”

You feel your heart swell at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest. Finally ready to admit it out loud. “Lando... I’ve felt the same way. I’ve just been too scared to admit it.”

He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, relief washing over him. “You have no idea how happy that makes me. I’ve wanted to say something for so long, but I was afraid I’d ruin what we have.”

“You haven’t ruined anything,” you say softly. “If anything, you’ve made it better.”

A wide smile spreads across his face, his eyes shining with emotion. “I’ve never been so thankful for getting drunk.”

You laugh, the sound light and filled with joy. “Me neither, Lando. Me neither.”

There’s a moment of comfortable silence, both of you just taking in the reality of what’s been confessed.

“So… when I fly back to Monaco in a few days, maybe we could start something real?” you suggest, your voice hopeful.

“I’d like that,” he replies, his heart swelling with happiness. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Then it’s a plan,” you say, a smile tugging at your lips.

"God, I wish I could kiss you now" he whispered, a small hint of disappointment in his voice.

And with that, you both know that this is just the beginning of something truly special, something that’s been waiting to happen for far too long.

Sequel

Masterlist

[fidogo]

john price x reader, but accidentally running into the 141 after only going on a few dates with Price wc: 0.9K warnings: mentions of sex, age gap, daddy kink, dacryphilia, use of sweetheart + angel a/n: I make such a stupid joke in this about Ghost and Soap LMAO forgive me part 2

The pub was warm, a sweet haven from the chill outside. It was already decked out with cheap garlands and holiday lights, all hung with care. Your friends tear off to the bar to order a few drinks, leaving you to find a booth. 

You slink through the chairs and the tables, making a beeline to the one available booth. You’re about to get nice and cozy when you stop in your tracks. 

He’s here.

You didn’t know John terribly well. The two of you had only gone on a few very successful dates, but you were not close enough to know who he was sitting with.

What you did know was this:

1. John was older than you.

2. He was an absolute gentleman whenever he took you out.

3. He really liked when you called him daddy and liked fucking you until you were in tears (and after...especially after). 

Back to the three men at the table with him. Given their demeanor, it was safe to assume they were also military. One of them was maybe Gaz/Kyle...bu that was it.

Your feet move automatically. (Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you wonder if you should stop walking and go back to the booth you found. Maybe it’s too early to meet his friends.)

The men’s boisterous voices quiet as you approach, and the one with a mohawk elbows one who's masked. You ignore them, focusing on John, whose face softens a smidge (and his eyes light up).

“Hi, John.” You’re a little more nervous than you thought you would be. (He had you creaming on his cock and whining like you were in heat the other night. This should be nothing!)

“Hi, Sweetheart,” he answers, standing to kiss your cheek. “What’re you doing here?” His eyes are warm and earnest, immediately putting your anxieties to rest.

“Just getting a drink with my friends before the new year. Things are about to pick up, so we’re trying to just get a drink one last time.” John looks at you so fondly, it warms your heart. Fuck the alcohol, fuck the fire or radiator or whatever’s in here, all you need is John Price to look at you like this to make you warm and toasty. 

“Would you all want to sit with us?” He asks, knocking on the table. You glance at the table full table, trying not to laugh at his friend's expressions (shock and disbelief coupled with some respect for Price). 

Remembering his manners, John introduces you to his men and places one large, strong, hand on the small of your back.  You lean into him slightly, trying to not seem too pleased to be here with him. 

“This is Gaz, Soap, and Ghost,” John introduces. You freeze, confused for a second. You thought..... Oh. Oh.

“Oh.” You say aloud. Stupidly. John quirks a brow at you, prompting you to ramble on.

“I’m sorry. To be candid, I thought Soap and Ghost were your dogs..." you say trailing off at the end.

To be fair, he had only ever been to your place. You stare at Soap and Ghost. Based on the small amount of information you knew, you had just assumed...

John lets out a deep laugh and pulls you closer into his side. 

“What?” Soap yells. He’s no longer checking you out appreciatively and just looks at you in disbelief. “How could you think that, lassie?” 

“Well, John seems like a man who lives alone with two big dogs that have manly names.” You explain, sinking more into John’s side, trying to embed yourself into this warmth.

His thumb lightly strokes your back, sending shivers up your spine. He's so big and strong and... Your brain turns to mush for a second.

“Well, what about Gaz?” Soap gestures to said man, trying desperately to make any ground in this. Your push away your vaguely horny thoughts. You have to lock back in for Kyle's sake. You smile at Gaz and politely extend your hand. 

“No, I knew Kyle was a man. A pleasure to meet you.” Gaz shakes your hand and beams while Soap slumps over, and Ghost looks like he’s rethinking how he got here.

“Need to work on your manners. That way when Captain talks about you, people don’t think you're dogs,” Gaz says drawing out and emphasizing dogs with a cheeky smile. Soap just grumbles. 

“Anyway,” you start to say, turning your attention back to John. “My friends and I are about to take that booth back there, but thank you for the offer. But call me. Or text.” He nods and leans in to press a quick, chaste to your lips. 

“Have a good night, Sweetheart.” You nod before going to finally claim your booth. 

You hear Soap ask why John ‘calls Kyle by his name but not me or Simon’, making you smile. They seem nice.

And then you hear what you assume to be Ghost, say, “Not bad, Captain. Not bad at all.”

You preen at that, chipper mood carrying you through the night, even as your friends bombard you with questions once they’re all seated.

You wave shyly at John and his friends when they eventually file out into the cold. John sends you a wink that has you sinking into the booth. You’re so fucked. 

About 15 minutes later, your phone buzzes.

Can’t stop thinking about you, angel

Apparently, he’s fucked too.

part 2

[lanadelnegan]

My Girl

S7!Negan x Reader

Requested from anon: hey! loving the blog and every story you post! i was wondering if you’d do a story of a reader’s first time being with S7 Negan who is an asshole at first but then goes soft because he accidentally made her cry??

OOOH I'm gonna have some FUN with this one. And thank you so much <3.

Summary: Rick's oldest daughter, y/n, loses her virginity to Negan.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, virgin first time, vaginal sex, daddy-kink, age-gap (reader is 18, negan is 40), Rick walks in on Negan eating you out.. (twice), degrading language, mushy romantic Negan, Negan fucks you in nothing but his leather jacket

A/N: This is my favorite fic I have written by far and I hope you love it as much as I do cuz I am obsessed.

"Carl, take your sisters upstairs and don't come down until I say it's safe." I lift Judith out of her high chair and follow Carl up the stairs.

Our dad has always treated us like Carl's the older one, even though he's two years younger than me, but I don't mind. If anything, it takes some of the pressure off of being big sis all the time.

I hear Negan's voice booming in the distance as my dad opens the door to head back outside. This has become part of our weekly routine at this point. Negan and his men went from monthly visits to weekly visits over the past couple months, but I don't mind that either.

The more I get to see him, the merrier.

I move the bedroom curtains slightly, peeking through my window until my eyes find Negan standing in the street in front of our house. I'm able to make out what they're saying if I listen closely enough.

"Rickyyy, I missed ya. Where's that sweet daughter of yours hiding? .....The older one of course." I can't stop the grin that appears on my face when he asks about me.

"This isn't about her. Get what you need, and leave." My dad stands firmly planted with his hands on his hips and my eyes roll at his attitude. Maybe if my dad would just be civil with Negan all of this could stop. I revert my gaze back to Negan.

"Now, Prick, you know I can't leave without seeing my girl."

His girl... The butterflies in my stomach flutter at the sound of that.

"Why are you so obsessed with him?" Carl asks rudely from across the room while holding Judith and bouncing her so she doesn't cry.

I quickly glare at Carl before turning my gaze back towards the window. When I look back down, Negan is looking up at me, a knowing smirk playing at his lips. I can't look away, and he lets his gaze linger a little too long as well, prompting my dad to look at my window. I quickly drop the curtain and back away.

"Take Judith to her room and put her down for her nap." I instruct Carl. He stares at me suspiciously. "Go! What did I just say?" I snap impatiently. He shakes his head but ultimately leaves.

"You're always so weird when he comes around." He says under his breath. I close my door behind them and go back to the window, peeking again, but this time everyone's gone. I rush to go see what's going on, but as soon as I swing my door open and run out, I crash into a tall, solid figure. My eyes widen as I look up at the man in the leather jacket.

"Hey, doll. Miss me?"

"Uh - I - where's my dad?" I stutter nervously, peaking around him.

"Busy getting supplies for me. He'll be busy for the next hour, so I thought I'd come keep you company."

Negan's been visiting Alexandria for months now, and each time he comes, our talks get longer and flirtier. Well, he flirts with me and I pretend to be annoyed, mostly so others don't think I like him. If they only knew how much I think about his beard between my legs.

There's something about him that intrigues me.. fascinates me even. I'm ashamed to admit I've even touched myself a couple times - okay, a lot of times - to the thought of him.

When I don't respond, he backs us into my bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

He slides his shoes and jacket off, sitting on my bed and leaning back with his feet propped up. I blush at the sight of him in my bed and restrain myself from ripping my clothes off here and now. A chill runs through my body, making me noticeably shake but I try to play it off. He probably things I'm scared, when in reality I just want him.

"Relax, I'd never hurt you darlin'. Unless you want me to." He winks as he leans back against the headboard getting more comfortable.

"I know." And I do... for some reason, I know he wouldn't hurt me.

He bites his bottom lip playfully and raises his eyebrows while patting the bed next to him.

I nervously walk over and sit down before leaning back, mimicking his position. My bed is a twin, so it doesn't allow much room to ourselves. My shoulder is pressed against his and the simple act has my body on fire already. I glance over and let my eyes roam up his white t-shirt to his handsome face. He watches me with amusement while his leg presses against mine teasingly.

"Sweetheart, I've been around the block long enough to know when a girl wants my dick. And I can practically hear that pussy fucking purring every time I come near you." He grins at me like he knows all my secrets.

My face burns with embarrassment at his words.

"I bet I could make you blush even harder than that, doll." His grin stretches wider but I stay silent, letting him do the talking.

"Of course.. I wouldn't do anything you're not comfortable wi-"

Before he can finish, I press my lips to his hard and climb on top of him. His mouth parts, letting my tongue in and his subtle moan makes my pussy flutter. He tastes like whiskey and smells like leather and I feel high off the taste of him as we kiss passionately. I grind my hips desperately into him and feel his bulge grow underneath me.

"Negan... I need you."

"I know baby." He breathes out.

My hands fumble with his belt and pants until I get them undone. He watches me as I pull out his cock and my pussy is already sore from just looking at it. No way it's gonna fit.

"How do you want it, baby? You gonna be a big girl and ride daddy?" His hands squeeze my ass underneath my dress and he practically growls when he realizes I'm not wearing panties.

"It's like you knew I was coming. Such a bad little girl." His fingers tease my opening and I'm embarrassed that I'm already pathetically soaked for him.

"All for me?" He slides a finger through my slit and brings it up to his mouth for a taste. "So fucking sweet."

I slide myself against his cock that's now slippery with my wetness and wonder how I'm gonna fit that thing inside me.

The big dick energy definitely checks out.

I hover above him naively, thinking I can actually take him. The tip just barely pushes through my opening and I moan at the sudden pressure. His hands grip my ass, guiding me down over him.

"Come on baby, that's it." He praises me as I keep sliding down. I stop when I can't take anymore, realizing I have at least four more inches to go.

"Oh, I know my little slut can take more than that."

I shake my head. "Negan, I don't think I -"

"You can, and you will, doll. I didn't come all the way here for you to only take half of my dick."

Tears fill my eyes as I try to sit all the way on him, wanting to make him proud. I make it another inch before the pain is too much. Not only with how deep he is, but he's so wide I think he may actually be ripping me apart.

"Deeper, y/n." He demands.

When I try again and fail, I quickly climb off of him frustrated. "I can't Negan, I'm trying!" He sits up in the bed, his feet on the floor now.

"Bend over."

"W-what?"

"Do not make me ask again." His jaw clenches as he stares at me seriously.

I lay myself over him, my ass facing upwards on his lap.

"You're going to take all of me, baby. If my wives at home can take me, I expect nothing less from you."

He doesn't even give me a warning before bringing his hand down painfully on my ass making me yelp. He chuckles darkly before smacking me again. He rubs the sensitive spot before teasing both of my holes.. One with his thumb and the other with his middle finger.

"What would daddy say if he could see you right now? Bent over my fucking lap and dripping for me like a little whore..." He pushes his thumb and finger deep inside each of my openings and I bite my lip hard at the pain.

I know he's trying to be all dominant right now.. I'm not oblivious to how rough sex works, but my eyes still sting with tears at his crude words. I shouldn't have built my hopes up that Negan could actually care and be gentle with me.

I sniffle as the tears fall, trying to wipe the snot dripping from my nose.

He quickly pulls me up and his eyes are filled with concern.

"Baby? Hey, look at me." He cups my face gently as I sit on the bed next to him.

"I - I liked you." I choke out. "I was the only one here who actually cared about you and saw you as a person.. and you.. you just see me as a stupid object you can shove your dick in.... You just ruined my first experience with a man. I hope you're happy." I sob while looks like someone just punched him in the gut.

"Fuck, sweetheart." He presses his forehead to mine, looking down with regret. "I didn't know you were all mushy about me and shit.. Truth is?" He tilts my chin to look at him. "I was being so harsh with you cause I didn't want to admit my own feelings. I didn't think you'd ever want an asshole like me, so I didn't want to go catching feelings for someone who didn't want me back. But baby? I can't get you outta my fucking head... Why do you think I started visiting every week?"

My teary eyes look up at him and he looks genuine. I want to trust him so badly, but my heart and head are saying two different things.

"Fuck, y/n. I know you don't believe me. Let me prove it to you. What can I do? Just say the fucking word."

"Stop taking our stuff... Leave our people alone..."

He chuckles lightly, shaking his head like he can't believe what he's about to agree to. "Does that include you?"

I try to hide my grin as I wipe my tears with the back of my hand. "....No."

"Then it's a deal, baby."

"That's it? Just like that?" I look at him confused.

He shrugs. "Guess you've got me wrapped around your finger already, darlin...And now that I know you've never been with a man, I'm taking my fucking time with you." He lays me down on the bed while kissing and climbing over me.

"What about my dad? He'll be back soon."

"Simon's keeping watch, doll."

His lips travel to my neck. "....What about your other wives? You're just gonna fuck me and go back to them?"

He laughs against my neck. "Sweetheart.. I kicked every one of them to the curb the day I layed eyes on you."

My mouth drops open but he cuts me off by pulling my dress down over my chest and taking a nipple into his mouth. I moan and arch myself into him. After a few moments of sucking each one, he slides down further, lifting my dress to my waist and settling his head between my legs. I watch him in awe as he takes his time, kissing my inner thighs.

"Has anyone ever eaten you, baby?"

I shake my head no as I lean up on my elbows to watch him.

"Good." He spreads my pussy lips apart with his fingers and I blush at him staring at it. "Such a pretty pussy. Fuck." He says before locking eyes with me and pressing a kiss to my clit gently. I moan from the contact and arch myself into him, silently begging for more.

He dips his tongue in me and curls it up, gathering my juices. His eyes roll to the back of his head and he groans and licks all the way up to my clit before sucking on it softly. My mouth drops open and my hips try to jerk away, being overwhelmed by sensitivity.

He smiles against me. "Not going anywhere until you cum all over my face, doll." He wraps his arms up around my thighs, pressing my stomach down with his hands.

My breathing matches the speed of his licking and sucking and I feel the pressure building up inside me.

"Fuck, Negan!" My eyes are clenched shut but snap open when my door suddenly flies open.

"Shit! Dad!" I reach to throw my blanket over me, but defeatedly realize it's on the floor. My eyes widen in horror at my father standing in the doorway, looking like he just saw a ghost. A ghost that's eating his daughter's pussy. I'm unable to close my legs because Negan is still holding me down with his hands.

"God fucking dammit, Rick. We were just ge-"

"Negan!" I cut him off, my cheeks turning bright red with embarrassment.

He kisses my pussy one more time and my eyes widen, not believing he just did that in front of my father. He finally leans up, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb and smirking at my dad like he's proud of himself.

I quickly get up and fix my dress.

"Dad, look, I -" I look up, stopping at the sight of Carl pointing a gun directly at Negan's head.

Negan tucks himself back into his jeans, buckling his belt and ignoring Carl.

"Carl.." I slowly step in front of Negan. "Put the gun down."

"You - you wanted this? Him?" My dad asks horrified. "He's done horrible things, y/n."

"And you haven't?!" I yell at my dad. "I watched you rip a man's neck open with your goddamn teeth. If he's a monster.. then so are you."

Negan steps beside me and laces his fingers through mine before kissing the side of my head.

"I love him, dad." I look up at Negan and elbow him roughly when I see a teasing smirk on his face.

"And you think he loves you? You can't be that stupid." My dad says, putting emphasis on the last word.

Negan chuckles and finally cuts in. "First of all, Dick, do not call my woman stupid. Secondly.." His faces grows serious. "We won't be taking anymore of your things. No more visits. Other than me paying this one a visit of course." Negan winks and puts his his arm around me protectively. "That is.. until she moves in with me." Our eyes all widen at the same time.

"You want me to live with you?" I turn to Negan.

"I mean, you did just confess your love for me, doll. Soo, yeah, that's the plan." He kisses my forehead.

"Y/n, we'll talk about this later. Negan, you need to leave. Now." My dad demands, his jaw ticking with anger.

Negan glares at my dad for a moment before turning to me, lifting my chin to kiss him slowly and passionately. Before he lets go, he whispers in my ear. "Meet me right outside the walls when it gets dark. I am nowhere near done with you, baby."

My heart flutters at the thought of us sneaking out together.

Negan walks towards the door before leaning close to my dad's ear. "I get to be her first, Rick. How fucking sweet is that." I struggle to make out his words but don't miss the chuckle at the end. He pats Carl's shoulder on his way out. "See ya 'round, bro."

"Love you, sweetheart!" He calls out to me as my dad and brother follow behind him, making sure he leaves.

I shut my door and smile giddily, running to the window and peeking out. Negan is already looking up at the window when I look at him. He smirks and winks at me before heading off to the gates.

A few hours later:

The sun just went down and my palms are starting to sweat as I pace back and forth on the outskirts of the gates. A million thoughts race through my head.

What if he doesn't come..

What if it's a trap..

What if he lied about everything he said..

Oh my god.. He's gonna kidnap and torture me..

Shut up. He wouldn't do that.

This is a bad idea. What am I doing.

Just as I turn to run back inside the walls, I see him appear from the shadows, wearing his signature leather jacket with a black t-shirt underneath.

"Were you about to ditch me, y/n?" He asks playfully as he pulls my wrist towards him and crashes his lips into mine. When the kiss deepens, he bends a little, pulling me up by the back of my thighs and wrapping my legs around his waist. We make out like horny teenagers while my fingers run through his slick black hair.

"You ready to officially be mine, doll?"

I nod without hesitation. "Yes. I'm already yours, Negan. I don't care what anyone thinks about us."

He kisses me again, setting me back down on the ground. "Lead the way, baby." He nods towards the side gates.

"You want to go back to my house? What if someone sees you?!"

"Kinda hope they do.. I like the thought of everyone knowing who you belong to." He smirks and it makes me knees weak.

"Okay.. come on." I pull his hand as I guide him back to my house. We sneak through the back sliding doors as carefully as possible before tiptoeing up the stairs.

He lightly smacks my ass as we're going up and I turn to shush him, tripping over my own feet in the process. He catches me before I make a loud thud on the stairs and his body is leaned over mine as we try not to laugh.

My body shakes as I laugh silently and bring my hand over my mouth quickly to stop any sound that comes out. His eyebrows raise at me with warning as if I better not make a noise.

"Okay, okay. Shushhh." I whisper before beginning our climb up the stairs again. My dad's room is at the end of the hall and mine is adjacent next to his. We try not to let the floors creak as we get closer to my room. We slip inside and I ease the door shut gently. When it finally clicks shut. I let go of a deep breath and look up at Negan. As soon as our eyes lock, we laugh like idiots, but quiet idiots.

He walks towards me. "Goddamn it, I fucking love you." He says as he lifts me back into his arms kissing me.

"You know.. earlier outside.." I breathe out between our kisses. "I thought.. that maybe you were gonna kidnap and torture me."

He smiles against my mouth as our lips lazily fight each other. "...What if I am?"

I stop kissing him to look at him. When I do, his look turns serious and it scares me for a moment. "I fully plan on making you mine and torturing you with this dick forever, doll."

I grin and roll my eyes as he continues holding me in his arms. "I guess there are worse ways to get tortured."

"Wait until I'm all the way inside you." His eyebrows raise teasingly.

I press my forehead to his and bring my hands to cup his face, kissing him again. I can't take my lips off of him. "Well what are you waiting for?"

That's all he needs to hear before he's walking me towards the bed and laying me down gently. He stands back up, removing his jacket and shirt.

I watch him closely, admiring the flex of his biceps when he moves. "Put the jacket back on. No shirt."

He laughs until he sees that I'm serious.

"Yes ma'am." He says with his little country accent. It's not always noticeable, but when it is.. it's so fucking adorable.

Once he's back in the jacket and bare chested, he stops for a moment before removing his pants. "Can I take these off, at least?"

"No, I want to."

He grin stretches as he walks towards the bed, keeping his hands by his sides. "All yours, baby."

I sit up in the bed in front of him and undo his button and zipper. I shuffle his pants down just a little before pulling his hardening cock out of his boxers. It turns to a steel rod in my hand and I don't care that I'm full on staring at it, assessing each vein and how it turns an ombre shade of pink towards the tip.

"I hope you like what you see, baby. Cause it's the only dick you're gonna be seeing for the rest of your life."

"I'm perfectly happy with that." I look up at him before kissing the tip of him, just like he did to my clit earlier. He watches me proudly, letting his fingers run through my hair lovingly.

I lick my lips before struggling to fit my mouth around him. He chuckles down at me.

“If you can’t fit me in that cunt, what makes you think you can take it down your throat, baby?”

I grin around him and I slide my mouth deeper and deeper. Surprisingly I don’t gag and I think it surprises him too.

Guess I don’t have a gag reflex. That’s good to know.

“Holyyy shit, doll. Look. At. You.” His voice is so deep it vibrates to my pussy. The tip hits the very back on my throat and even further until my eyes water.

I try to jerk my head back, but Negan pushes my head down on him again, my nose pressed into his pubic hair. He waits a few seconds until I feel like I’m going to pass out from lack of oxygen before pulling my head back. I gasp for air and he pulls me all the way off of him while kicking his pants and boxers off.

"Trying to make me blow my load before we even get to the good part, darlin'? He climbs over me in the bed, kissing me softly.

My hands slip underneath his jacket and rub his back, scratching at it gently.

"I am gonna make you feel So fucking good." He says before kissing my neck. "You want me to be gentle with you baby?" His voice right in my ear makes me shiver.

I nod and he hovers his face above mine so we’re staring into each other eyes.

“You ready, baby?” He whispers and I nod again.

He leans up on his knees between me and lines himself up with my entrance before pushing the tip through. “Tell me if you need me to stop.”

He slowly slides in me further and further as he holds my legs open.

“Goddamn this pussy is so fucking Tight.” He pulls back a little before pushing in deeper and my mouth gapes open slightly.

He chuckles and stares down at me through heavy eyelids. "I'm not even halfway yet, sweetheart. You want more?"

I nod desperately as my eyes fill with tears at the overwhelming sensation of him so deep inside me.

"Take it then, doll. Grind on me and make yourself feel good." He stops moving completely while still on his knees between my legs.

My cheeks blush at his request and he smirks down at me, sliding his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, refusing to move or touch me.

I lean up on my elbows while he's still inside me and push my body further into him, taking every inch I possibly can. I grind myself against him until I find just the right spot for the tip of his cock to press into and drop my head back at how good it feels, not caring about the desperate sounds I let out.

"Oh my god, Negan.. fuck." My face reddens at the intense pleasure as I continue using his cock to pleasure myself.

"Fuck, baby. Now THIS? Is a Fucking sight.. Watching you get off on my cock like a desperate little whore."

"Touch me, Negan. Please."

"Please what?"

"Please Negan."

He removes his hands from his jacket to lean over me, holding himself above me with one hand on the bed while bringing the other to lightly grip my throat.

His dark hazel eyes dart back and forth between mine as he squeezes his fingers gently around my neck. My face reddens even more at the sudden loss of air.

"Try again, doll."

"Please... daddy." I choke out and he quickly releases my throat.

"Good girl." He kisses my lips softly before thrusting his hips hard, completely filling me until his balls are flush against me.

I scream out and his hand immediately covers my mouth while his head dips to the side of mine and his deep voice fills my ear once again.

"Sshhh, baby. I know. I know." He pulls out almost completely before sliding in again, this time softer but just as deep.

My eyes fill with tears at the pain but I don't want him to stop. My fingers grip the bottom of his jacket as he continues fucking me hard and at a steady pace. The headboard begins to lightly bump the wall above me and my eyes widen with panic.

"Negan, the bed. My dad's room is right on the other side."

He chuckles lightly in my ear but doesn't speak. Instead, he pounds into me even harder and faster with his head is buried into my neck.

"Negan!" I whisper yell at him but it feels too good to make him stop. The closer my orgasm gets, the less I care about my dad hearing us.

After a few more thrusts, he slows down and suddenly flips us over with his dick still inside me until I'm laying over him.

"Negan, my dad's gonna come in here! We have to be quie-"

Before I finish, he lifts his knees up and rams his cock into me hard. It feels even deeper from this angle and hits a spot that makes me see stars.

"Come here, baby." He maneuvers me until my arms are wrapped around him and my head is nestled into his neck. He smells like musky cologne and sweat and I can't help but lick him. Our mouths are next to each others ears, breathing and moaning heavily as he begins to thrust up into me faster than ever. The headboard slams into the wall with force but I don't even care.

This feeling is unlike anything I've ever felt or knew was possible, so the last thing I'm gonna do is tell him to stop.

"Negan.." I cry out. "Faster."

He obeys and wraps his arms around me tighter, fucking me at an animalistic pace. I cum so hard and fast I don't even have time to announce it. My pussy clenches and I feel myself suddenly leak around him, soaking his dick and probably even the bed below us.

"Goddamn. That's my good fucking girl... You gonna let daddy cum in this pussy, baby?"

"Yes! Please." I whine.

He growls in my ear and holds himself deep and still inside me as his dick pulses over and over.

I try to slide off of him when he's finished, but he holds me tight, not letting me leave.

"Negan, you need to leave before my dad-"

"He's not here, sweetheart."

"What?!" I snap my eyes to his.

"Relax, baby. He's fine. But I did warn him that if he didn't want to hear his baby girl screaming "daddy" all night.. then he should take your siblings and go stay the night with Daryl." He grins up at me and my brows come together with confusion.

"Wait you.. you told him about our plan?"

"Of course baby. Had to be respectful and ask for your old man's blessing."

"And.. and he gave it to you?!"

Negan laughs and reaches up to tuck my hair behind my ear. "Absolutely not. But respectfully, I told him he didn't have a choice."

The next morning:

My vagina is screaming at me for allowing it to be destroyed last night. I can't count on one hand how many times Negan made me cum. I open my eyes to the sun shining through my window and immediately notice Negan is gone. I shoot up and look around, seeing that his clothes are also gone.

What if he just.. got what he wanted and left..

I throw the covers off of me and get up, grabbing my sundress of the floor and throwing it on before making my way through the house.

"Carl?!.... Dad?!" I yell as I descend quickly down the stairs. I stop at the bottom to find Negan stirring a pot of something on the stove.

"There she is! Mornin' sunshine." I walk over to Negan to see what he's cooking and he holds a spoon up to my mouth, letting me taste the deliciousness. This man can fuck and cook... what a god.

"Was wonderin when you were gonna wake the hell up. It's already lunch time, baby." He presses his lips to mine and I notice his freshly shaven face. I've never seen him like his and he looks so incredibly handsome.

He lifts me up and sets me on the kitchen counter while standing between my legs.

"Mmm, promise me you'll wear little sundresses with no panties underneath for the rest of our lives, doll." He says as he kisses me sweetly. I giggle and wrap my arms around him, kissing his neck.

"You hungry baby?" He asks and I nod sleepily.

"Me too." He slowly gets down on his knees in front of me, draping my legs over his shoulders.

He softly licks me with his tongue, moaning from the taste before burying his face further into me until I feel his tongue push past my hole. His shaven face feels soft and much more gentle than his beard.

My fingers run through his black hair, tugging on it gently as my head falls back.

"Mmm, daddy." I moan and my eyes snap open, hearing movement at the front door. I quickly jerk Negan up while pulling my dress down and sliding off the counter, seeing my dad, Carl, and Daryl standing in the doorway. Carl quickly covers Judith's eyes while he holds her and Negan sighs annoyedly at the sight of them.

"God..DAMN it, Rick. Again? You gotta learn to fucking knock."

"It's my house." My dad's expression is unreadable as he stands there, eyeing Negan. "You said one night. You can be on your way now."

"Well now don't be fucking rude, Prick. Have a seat." He grins widely at my dad before gesturing to the table. "I made spaghetti."

The End.

[keeryhours]

baby, it’s cold outside - steve harrington

Steve Harrington x Best friend! female reader

Masterlist

Steve Harrington Masterlist

2024 Promptmas Masterlist

Summary:

A planned movie night with your best friend turns into more when you get trapped in a snow storm.

Warnings:

Smut (18+), unprotected p in v, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, accidental creampie

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N:

This is my first fic for the Twelve Days of Promptmas event by @littlexdeaths ! Prompt: “snowed in”

—

The Hawkins forecast was calling for snow. A lot of it, in fact. You weren’t worried about it. In fact, you had planned a fun night in with your best friend in the world.

You had everything all ready. The house to yourselves while your parents were visiting family for the weekend, plenty of hot chocolate, and the fireplace roaring comfortingly. It was perfect.

You were dressed in your coziest PJs - you and Steve had picked out matching pairs. What can you say, you loved making an event out of things.

The snow was falling heavily outside and you were just pulling the cookies you had baked out of the oven when the front door opened and you heard footsteps heading into the kitchen.

“Hey hey,” Steve greeted, still dressed in his uniform from Family Video and holding a bag in his hand. “Smells good.”

“Hey Stevie,” you greeted with a smile. You sat the hot tray on top of the stove and turned the oven off. “Whatcha got for us?”

Steve pulled three VHS tapes from the plastic bag. “I got A Christmas Story, Gremlins, and Die Hard.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Die Hard?”

“What? It’s a Christmas movie!”

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “Wanna go get changed?”

“God yes, I’m so ready to get out of these clothes.” Steve sat the movies down on the counter and headed down the familiar path to your bedroom.

You examined the movie choices as you waited. When Steve returned, he was dressed in pajamas that mirrored yours, cozy red flannel bottoms and a black sweater-like top with a reindeer on it.

“It’s really coming down out there,” he pointed out as he glanced out the window. “I had to drive like 20 under the speed limit to get here.”

“I don’t think it’s supposed to be too crazy,” you said, grabbing A Christmas Story. “It should calm down by the time we’re done with our movie night. I wouldn’t stress about it. Wanna watch this one first?”

“Sure.” Steve grabbed it from your hand along with the other two movies as you plated the cookies and poured two mugs of hot chocolate. When you entered the living room, Steve was putting the movie in the VCR, then falling back on the couch.

You sat the treats on the table and gathered the bundle of cozy blankets before sitting next to your best friend. The blankets spread over both of your laps, you dug into the treats as the familiar movie played on the TV screen.

Despite the house’s heating, the warm drinks, and the blankets shared between you, it was cold. You found yourself shivering, pulling the blanket tighter around you.

“Are you cold?” Steve asked quietly, noticing your shaking against his arm.

“Freezing,” you admitted. Your hands were ice cold, as if the snow from outside was invading the warm safety of the house.

“C’mere.” Steve wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you tightly against his side. You froze for a moment - this was more intimate than you and Steve usually got. Sure he was your best friend, and he was also gorgeous, but there was nothing more between you. But god, he was so warm and cozy, like a heater. He warmed your body immediately.

As the movies played, you found yourself cuddling closer and relaxing into Steve’s side. At some point he began rubbing gentle circles on your shoulder with his thumb. The electricity his touch was sending through your skin was unfamiliar - you’d touched Steve plenty of times, but it never felt like this. You’d never thought about what it might feel like to hold his hand, or what his lips might feel like on yours. But now you were. Now it’s all you could think about, to the point that you weren’t even paying attention to the movies anymore.

When your last movie of the night, Gremlins, ended, Steve removed his arm from around you, much to your dismay. He stretched, letting out a wide yawn.

“I guess I’d better get going home before it gets too bad out there,” he said, although neither of you really wanted him to.

“Yeah, I guess so. I had fun,” you smiled, even though you wanted nothing more than to ask him to stay, to hold you longer.

What was up with you?

Steve gathered his stuff, his clothes from work in the bag he had brought with him. You followed him to the front door.

He pulled it open, and you were both greeted with a rush of freezing cold air and snow. The forecast had not been lying - the storm was intense. It covered the yard, the unplowed road, even Steve’s car was buried in the glittering white snow.

You and Steve both gaped at the spectacle. Steve shut the door and turned to you.

“Uh…I’m not sure I can leave.”

“You can stay,” you said, maybe a little too quickly. “Just spend the night. It’s fine.”

“Thanks,” Steve breathed out in relief. “Damn. I really wasn’t expecting it to actually get that bad.”

You followed Steve back into the living room, where he sat his bag down again. “You can pull out the couch,” you told him. “It’s pretty comfy. I have an extra new toothbrush you can use.”

“Sounds good.” He smiled at you gently. Tenderly.

As the two of you got ready for bed, your mind was racing. Why couldn’t you stop thinking about how it felt to lay against Steve? How good he had smelled, like honey and his fancy cologne. How warm his body was against yours. How it had felt like you fit right in beneath his arm. How kissable his plush lips looked, how expressive his brown eyes were when he looked at you.

You were panicking.

Steve didn’t feel that way about you, you were sure of it. And you didn’t want to change your friendship by catching feelings. This was dangerous territory. You could only hope the thoughts would fade by morning.

You walked back to the living room to find Steve attempting to figure out the sofa.

“Here, let me help,” you said, moving over and grabbing the other side. Together you pulled the bed out. It was pretty comfy, as far as pull out couches go. You had spent many a night camped out on it during sleepovers with Carol Perkins growing up, before she grew up and decided to turn into a bitch. Now it was mostly unused.

You gathered some blankets and sheets from the hall closet, taking some pillows from your own bed for him. You helped Steve make the bed up, and when you were done, it looked perfectly comfortable. The fireplace still burned in the room, filling it with a comfortable warmth, although you still felt the chill.

“Thanks for helping me get all this set up,” Steve said, gesturing to his home for the night. “I had a great time with you tonight.”

You felt yourself blush, and looked down to hide it from him. “Of course. You’re always welcome here.”

Steve smiled again - how did you never notice how charming his smile was? “Well, goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” you smiled back, and then turned to walk into your own bedroom for the night.

A firm hand on your arm stopped you, pulling you to spin around and crash into something hard. Before you could process it, soft lips were pressing onto yours.

You wrapped your arms around Steve’s neck, kissing him back just as passionately as he kissed you. Your lips worked together in perfect harmony, they were just as soft as they looked. His tongue slipped into your mouth and you let him in freely, your own pressing against his as he explored your mouth with an urgency, like he’d been waiting to do this for years.

You melted into his kiss, Steve’s hands caressing over your hips and sides. They trailed up beneath your pajama top, feeling the smooth skin beneath. He led you backwards towards the pull out bed, and you fell back onto it with Steve crawling on top of you.

“Is this okay?” he asked breathlessly when he finally broke the kiss.

“More than okay,” you answered, equally breathless and just wanting him to kiss you over and over again for the rest of the night. He smiled before he leaned in, trailing kisses along your jaw. You giggled as he moved to your neck, placing gentle kisses all over the skin.

“Good,” he said between kisses, “because I’ve wanted to do this for so long, you have no idea.”

His words made your breath hitch in your throat - or maybe it’s the way he started sucking on the spot between your neck and shoulder. “Steve…”

“Yeah?” He started pushing the sweater top up your body. He moved down to kiss over the exposed skin of your stomach, which made you gasp, his lips sending chills across your skin.

“I love you.”

Steve looked up at you from where he had been exploring your body, smiling that same familiar smile. “I love you, too.”

He pushed your top up the rest of the way, and you leaned up to help him remove it. You shivered as your body was exposed to the air, no bra so your nipples peaked in the chill. Steve drank in your bare chest before him, before moving back up to your eyes.

“Are you still cold?” he asked, concern in his eyes.

“Yeah,” you admitted, but you didn’t want this to stop, either.

“I can warm you up…” he offered, “…from the inside.” He waggled his eyebrows at you.

You laughed, your head thrown back. “Oh my god. You’re so lame.”

He was smiling as he stood up next to the bed, pulling his own pajama top over his head. His bare chest was exposed to you and you sat up and reached forward, rubbing your hands over the taut skin of his stomach, up and over the thick hair on his firm chest. He hummed as you did, his eyes falling closed.

He was gorgeous. You always knew he was, but seeing him like this for the first time, it was something else entirely. He was ethereal.

Your eyes drifted down to the large bulge pushing against the front of his flannel pants, straining against the material. You rubbed over it, feeling how hard he was already, and causing Steve to hiss as it twitched beneath your hand.

“Can I…?” You asked hesitantly, fingers grasping the waistband of his pants.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” he said, a breathless laugh coming from his lips. “You can do whatever you want to me.”

Pleased with his confirmation, you pulled his pants and boxers down in one go, his length surprising you as it sprung up, already incredibly hard. You gasped, which made Steve chuckle.

“I did not expect you to be hiding all that,” you commented, eyes wide as you took in the sight of him.

“Yeah? You like it?”

You looked up at his eyes. “You really don’t need your ego stroked.”

“I’ve got something you can stroke-“

“Oh my god, shut up.”

Steve looked like he was about to say something else but you shut him up yourself by wrapping your hand around the base of his cock, licking a long stripe along the underside to the tip. Steve let out a strangled groan, hand grasping at the back of your hair.

“Shit, babe-“

You wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, your tongue running over his slit and circling around his tip. You began to take more of him, relaxing your throat as you took his girth. He was bigger than any guy you’d been with before, and you were a little intimidated, but you were going to try your best. You gagged as you neared the entirety of him, and Steve’s hand tightened in your hair, although he didn’t force you.

“Feels so good baby, please don’t stop,” he rasped, encouraging you to take more. Your eyes were watering, your jaw aching as you took more and more of him.

He hit the back of your throat and your nose pressed against the soft curls at his base. His eyes widened as he looked down at you, his hand shaking. “Shit, no one’s ever taken it all before,” he remarked, as if he were in awe. “You’re incredible.”

You began to bob your head along his length, taking him as deep as possible every time. Steve groaned loudly above you, his eyes never leaving the way your lips fit around his cock.

When you felt his thighs start to tremble you lifted off of him, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his dick. He muttered a low “Fuuuuck.”

Steve gently pushed you back to lay on the bed, then crawled back over you again, placing a kiss above the waistband of your pajama pants before he was pulling them and your panties down your legs.

When you were bare before him, he spread your legs, taking in the sight of you. Before you knew what he was thinking, he ducked down between your legs, licking along your glistening folds. You gasped, hands tangling in his long locks.

“Oh, Steve-“ you gasped out, and you could feel him smile against your core.

“Taste so good,” he said, licking over your sensitive clit. You resisted the urge to close your legs around his head, the pleasure overwhelming as he focused on pleasing you with his mouth. He slipped a long finger inside of you, causing you to pull on his hair, which made him groan against you.

He pumped his finger in and out of you slowly a few times before adding another, stretching you in preparation to take his cock - although his fingers were nothing in comparison.

As Steve continued to work his tongue and lips expertly against your core, you felt your high building rapidly. It’s like he knew exactly what to do to drive you crazy, to bring you straight to your peak.

“Steve…’m gonna cum…” you whined, body writhing beneath his mouth, thighs trembling around his head. Every thrust of his fingers was so deep, the curl of them hitting that perfect spot inside.

“Cum on my tongue, angel,” he murmured between sucking on your clit, running his tongue around it. “Wanna taste it, wanna make you feel so good.” He added a third finger, pumping into you slow yet deep.

“You are,” you said breathlessly, “God, Stevie, feels so good.”

Your high hit you intensely, your back arching up off the bed and grinding against his mouth for more. You could feel his smirk against you as he lapped up every bit of your slick, as if he couldn’t get enough.

Your chest was heaving with heavy breaths as he pulled away, trailing kisses up your body until he reached your lips. He kissed you far too sweetly for what he had just done to you, but you found yourself melting into it once again as you tangled your hands in the soft hair at the base of his neck. You could taste yourself on his tongue as he kissed you deeply.

“Do you have a condom?” you asked as he pulled away to look down at you, something like love and adoration in his eyes.

“Uh…shit, no,” he admitted, looking sheepish. “I didn’t really expect anything like this to happen.”

You giggled. “Me, either.”

“Do you want to stop?” he asked you seriously. “We can stop. We don’t have to do this.”

You shook your head immediately. “No…I want to keep going.”

He raised his eyebrows at you. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Stevie,” you assured him, pulling him closer once again. “Now fuck me, please?”

He groaned at your words. “Of course, baby.” He kissed along your cheek, down your jaw, to your neck. “Let me take care of you. Let me show you how much you mean to me.”

He reached between your bodies, rubbing the head of his cock through your soaked folds, gathering it on his length. He lined himself up at your entrance, and looked you in the eyes as he pushed inside.

Your mouth fell open at the intrusion - way bigger than his fingers - it was a delicious mix of pain and pleasure as he filled you. He groaned loudly as he filled you completely, your hands trembling on his strong shoulders.

“You’re my favorite person,” he said, looking you in the eyes like he’d never meant anything more in his life.

“And you’re mine,” you promised him back, which made him smile and place a gentle kiss on your lips.

He slowly pulled out before pushing back into you, the hottest moan you’d ever heard spilling from his lips. “God, you feel amazing. So tight and perfect. Better than I imagined.”

Even through the intense pleasure of Steve fucking you, his words broke through the haze in your brain. “You’ve imagined?”

“Well yeah, of course,” he laughed. He buried his face in your neck, biting and sucking the spot that drove you crazy earlier. “So many times.”

“Me too,” you admitted, feeling the blush on your skin.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Steve said, as he leaned up to look down at you again. “You blush with your whole body, you know that?”

That only made your skin heat further.

Steve sped up his pace, thrusting into your tight heat faster as he chased his own pleasure. “Do you like it like this? Or should I go slower?”

“That’s perfect,” you moaned, wrapping your legs around his waist and gripping onto his back for support. “Oh fuck, Stevie, feels so so good.”

He dropped his face back into the crook of your neck, moaning unashamedly as the sounds of your skin meeting filled the quiet living room. The only other sound was the crackling of the fireplace, and you could see the snow still falling hard outside the sliding back door. But just as he promised, Steve was keeping you nice and warm.

In a moment of unexpected boldness, you had an idea.

Grabbing onto Steve’s shoulders, you pushed him over so you were on top. His eyes went wide. “Woah.”

You giggled as you started grinding on him, the angle rubbing against your clit as you did, building your second orgasm of the night. “God, Stevie, you’re so big.”

“Yeah?” he gasped out, hands gripping tightly to your hips as you began to bounce on him. “Oh fuck honey, you feel incredible. So perfect for me.”

You threw your head back as you rode him with everything you had, his eyes glued on your bouncing tits as he felt his own release approaching. “So fucking sexy,” he muttered to himself, hands sliding up your sides to grab your breasts, kneading them in his hands before moving back to hold your hips with a bruising grip.

“Baby, I’m getting close,” he warned, his fingers digging tightly into your skin.

“Me too,” you moaned, and you reached down to rub circles on your clit, watching the way his eyes widened again as he watched you pleasure yourself.

“God- cum on my cock, baby, wanna feel your pussy clench around me.”

His words pushed you over the edge. Your cunt spasmed around his cock as you came even harder than before, crying out and calling his name over and over. “Steve, Steve, Steve…!”

“Oh, shit-“ The muscles in his neck went taut as his orgasm hit him unexpectedly, groaning and shooting his load deep inside you as he bucked his hips up wildly beneath you, pulling you down against him.

Once you had both come down to earth, the reality of what had just happened hit you both. “Oh, fuck, angel, I’m sorry-“

“It’s okay, Stevie,” you assured him, leaning forward to place a kiss on his lips. “I’m on the pill.”

He let out a relieved breath. “Thank god.”

You laughed as you lifted off of him and laid down on the mattress next to him. Steve wrapped an arm around you, pulling you to cuddle against his chest. “That was incredible,” you finally said.

“Hell yeah it was,” Steve agreed wholeheartedly. “Why didn’t we do this forever ago?”

“Because we’re idiots?” you giggled. “I love you.”

“I love you too, angel,” Steve said, his hand caressing your cheek before he placed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Sleep in my bed with me?” you asked sheepishly, feeling nervous of his rejection despite what you’d just done together. “To keep me warm, of course.”

“Of course, baby. Where else would I be?”

[not-neverland06]

Hii ! I was hoping you could do Logan x Reader where all the teachers go to a club, and the Reader starts dancing with Storm and Jean while Logan is sitting on a couch, looking at her. They both have a crush on each other, but they don't know it, so when the Reader notices Logan staring at her, she gets shy and decides to go get a drink. When she got her drink, a guy starts flirting with her, and Logan obviously sees it. he gets jealous and walks up to the guy telling him to leave her alone. After they talk for a bit, the Reader accidentally confesses and Logan kisses her. this ends up in a private room with Logan fucking her as he always wanted. I know this is a long request and I'm sorry for that, bue I'm a writer myself, so I already had develop this bit of the story in my head. I completely understand if you don't want to do it. Hope you have an awesome day !!🤗❤️ Love your writing btw

a/n: I loved this prompt so much, did switch it up a bit bc I faced a bit of writer's block trying to flesh this out!! (and if I said I was listening to Thong Song while writing this, what then?)

18+ MDNI (fucking in a club bathroom, if that's not your thing, move on out)

Logan rummages around somewhere behind you, digging through the cabinets and moving everything around. The longer he searches, the more confused you grow. Your brows furrow as he cusses to himself.

There’s a low grunt of frustration as Logan rounds the kitchen island to glare at you. His face is screwed up in anger that seems to be misdirected towards you. You give him an awkward look, “Uh, hi?”

“He stole my booze,” he responds shortly and without explanation. You shake your head in confusion as the dots slowly connect. A small smile curls up on your lips but the glare he gives you makes it quickly drop. 

“Well, you know Charles' rules about it,” you tell him flippantly. Logan huffs and shoves away from the counter. He turns back to the fridge, destroying the organizational system as he continues his search. You roll your eyes, eating your food and watching him with a bored expression. 

Jean walks just as he really begins to work himself up. Her face pinches in distaste, catching on to the root of his anger quicker than you had. She looks at you with a small smirk. “Charles?”

“Yep," You answer, eyes still trained on him. He finally gives up the futile search, moving to stand beside you. Your eyes widen and you try not to physically react to his proximity. It’s an everyday struggle to remain calm around him. You’re desperately trying to keep a cool girl persona but you don’t think it's working. 

You’re pretty sure he sees right through your pathetic attempts at nonchalance every time you two are paired on a mission. Jean notices the look on your face and smiles slightly. “The rest of us are thinking of going out tonight.”

It's not an offer with her, more of a demand for the two least sociable members of the team. She gives you both expectant looks, ignoring the way you minutely shake your head in disapproval at the idea of going out.

“Pass,” Logan grunts. He steps away from you, making for the kitchen door. Jean quickly steps in front of him, firmly placing her hand on his chest and giving him a stern look.

You feel like you're missing something as they silently converse with tense looks and aggressive eye motions towards you. You might be worried they're flirting if it weren't for how fed up they both look right now with one another.

Your brows furrow in confusion and it only worsens when Logan lets out an aggrieved huff. “Fine. I’ll come.” He gives Jean a thin smile, “Happy?” 

She releases him and moves out of the way with a smug look. “Very. You’ll thank me, by the way.” She says to his retreating back, ignoring whatever he mutters back to her.

You’re completely lost about what that was but don't have much time to process it before Jean turns her attention to you. You already know what she wants and you immediately shake your head. “No, nope, you know I don’t like going out.” Jean smiles at you, but you know she’s just pretending to agree with you. 

“Jean,” your voice is sharp as you glare at her. “Not happening.”

You really regret ever befriending her. She’s either ridiculously persuasive or she's used her mind-warping abilities on you.

You're squished between Ororo and Logan on a sticky club booth. The smell of booze and cheap perfume soaks through your senses. You feel the beginnings of a headache forming as the music pounds.

While you love the feeling of Logan's biceps pushed up against you, you hate the club more. Storm catches the tense look on your face and sighs in disappointment.

"We need to get some more alcohol in you," she tells you with a faux sense of authority. "Come on," she nods her head and for a moment you think she's talking to you. But, with a move that seems practiced, Scott and Jean both follow her out of the booth and head toward the bar.

You watch them go with a suspicious glint in your eye, not trusting how smoothly they all just conveniently slipped away. That leaves just you and Logan behind at the table and you doubt that's coincidental.

They've been a little pushy about this crush of yours ever since they found out. They insist that he feels the same way about you as you do him. But you sincerely doubt he's fantasizing about going on romantic picnics with you and thinking of mushy dates.

He seems like the kind of guy to value silence over a girlfriend and you doubt you're his type. You don't tend to stray from the rules, ever. You don't think there's much you two have in common, as much as the others insist the opposite.

You give him a subtle look over. He hasn't moved away from you, which seems like a good sign. There's plenty of space for him to go now, but he keeps himself pressed up against you.

But, he's also not looking at you. His thumb is idly tracing the rim of his glass and he's refusing to take his eyes off the stained wood of the table. You know he can feel the way you're staring at him, but he's stubbornly refusing to acknowledge your presence. It almost feels petty and that makes you scoff and roll your eyes at the thought. You doubt Logan cares enough to be petty.

Practically in love with me, you think sarcastically. 

You know your friends are taking longer than necessary at the bar, trying to give the two of you some privacy. You feel like a high school girl, trying to get the cool guy to like her when he literally couldn’t give two shits. 

Your friends being pushy about the two of you really isn't helping anything. It only gives you false hope, and when he's inevitably a jerk again, it just makes all your little fantasies come crashing down.

You pick up your glass, tipping your head back and letting the alcohol warm you from the inside out. You've done your hair, spent forever doing your makeup, and you put on your favorite slutty dress. You don't feel like sitting here all night sulking alongside your unrequited crush.

More often than not, Logan is nothing more than a wet blanket. You've put in the effort and dragged yourself outside for once, you'd like to enjoy the experience. He could come find you when he felt like pulling the stick out of his ass. You slide out of the booth with a huff, uncaring as the hem of your dress rolls up your thighs. 

“Where’re you going?” Logan demands, voice gruff. Now he wants to pay attention, figures. 

You turn around and glare down at him. His eyes rove slowly over you, the way they should have been all night. His gaze is a physical caress and his stare lingers along your body. You can practically feel his touch on the curves of your hips. Slowly, he looks back up to meet your eye, something like a challenge on his face. 

You assess him, raising a brow and shrugging. “I’m gonna dance.” Something has possessed you or there’s a very talented telepath manipulating you right now. In a rare display of confidence you lean over the table, breasts pushed out towards him. “Wanna join me?” You ask, breath barely above a whisper. 

He scoffs and goes back to glaring at the table. Whatever confidence you had settles coldly in the bottom of your gut. “Not my thing, kid,” he gripes, every bit the crotchety old man. 

You roll your eyes, playing off the sting of rejection as an annoyance. “Of course, you’re not. You’re not having fun unless everyone else is miserable,” you snap. His eyes shoot up to meet yours, something like shock playing on his face. 

You don’t let him respond, already turning on your heel and walking off. As much as you like Logan, sometimes this attitude of his becomes tiring. What’s wrong with wanting to have fun for a night?

You’re not usually a huge fan of clubs. But when you’re out with your friends, you’re not going to actively ruin their night. As rude as that was, it’s right. He’s the “cool” kid in high school who thought everything was lame and never wanted to enjoy anything. 

So, what? You like to get a little drunk and sloppy sometimes, maybe if he ever tried it he might be less miserable. You head towards the bar, spotting Ororo’s hair easily through the crowd. You slide behind her, slipping your arm over her shoulder, “Hey pretty,” you whisper in her ear, laughing as she jumps. 

She turns and glares at you, swatting at your shoulder. “You’re lucky I didn’t hurt you.”

“Ooh, save it for later.” She rolls her eyes and passes you a shot. You take it with a smile, wincing at the burn of the tequila. “You wanna dance?” You have to shout to be heard over the music but you know she hears you when her eyes widen in surprise. 

She glances behind you and you don’t have to look to know Logan is glaring daggers at your back. You can feel him and it's pissing you off. “What happened?” You know she can tell something is up, you’re never this outgoing when you go out. But you don’t want to talk about finally coming to terms with the fact that you and Logan aren’t going to work out. 

Instead, you hold your hand out and wink. “Wanna dance or not?” She laughs a little, slipping her palm into yours and letting you drag her out onto the dance floor. It’s been a while since you’ve actually been sober dancing. You usually like to be near blackout drunk, but you just don’t have the energy for that tonight. 

Ororo is a little tipsier than you, clearly having been drinking while she was waiting at the bar. Her inhibitions are looser and she’s giggling as you move your hips against hers. Neither of you is dancing to impress, you’re messily moving around each other to the beat of the music. You don’t pay attention to the people around you, just having fun by yourselves. 

Ororo takes your hand, spinning you a little and pulling you back into her arms. You laugh, swaying your hips to the same rhythm she is, chests pressed tightly together while you smile at each other. 

She only lasts a few songs before she pulls back. “I need a drink,” she yells before stumbling back towards the bar. You feel yourself deflate, not sure what to do with yourself now that your favorite dancing partner has ditched you. 

You look through the mass of grinding bodies and try and spot your table. You can’t see much through the brightly colored lights spinning all around you. Everything’s a little disorienting and the shots you’ve had aren’t helping. 

Someone’s hand slips around your waist, “Your friend left you all alone?” Normally, you’d push whoever it was off and tell them to back off. But he’s got an attractive voice and you can feel how fit he is against your back. 

“You gonna keep me company?” You tease, voice a low purr as you push back against him. Your hands drift down to his arms, pulling them a little tighter around your waist. He chuckles, the noise reverberating through your back. 

You barely even get a chance to dance before your back is cold and you can feel his arms forcibly ripped off you. It doesn’t take much digging to find the culprit. Logan is behind you, hand fisted in the guy’s collar, “Why don’t you back off, bub?” He shoves him back and you roll your eyes as the guy scrambles off. 

“What the hell was that?” You demand arms crossed as you glare at Logan. 

He turns around and you’re surprised at the intensity of his glare. Something about it has you heated for an entirely different reason. He’s staring down at you like he’s gonna pounce on you. Your heart races, thighs clenching the longer he’s glowering at you. 

He shouldn’t be allowed to be so attractive when he’s pissed off. He reaches forward, grabbing your bicep and jerking you into his chest. He leans down until his lips are brushing against your ear. “You wanna dance, let’s dance, kid.”

“What-”

He cuts you off, flipping you around and pulling your back flush against him. You can feel just how much your little show with Storm got him going. You truly weren’t doing anything too alluring, but it seems to be enough for him. 

When you don’t move his hands drop to your hips and he grinds them down against him. “Logan,” you gasp his name out, caught off guard by how brazen he’s being in the middle of the club. There are people around you doing much worse but you’ve never known him to be this bold before. 

“You trying to make me jealous?” It’s hard to pay attention to what he’s saying, to focus on anything at all when his hand is drifting steadily down your body. The tips of his fingers just barely brush the skin of your thigh while his thumb lets the hem of your dress curl up. 

He flips you around, taking his hands off of you and instead tilting your chin up to face him. “I said,” he repeats in a condescending tone, “were you trying to make me jealous?” He doesn’t sound like he’s taking you seriously. Even if that was your intention, he thinks it’s just your petty way of lashing out at him for not dancing. 

You narrow your eyes at him and swat his hands off of you. “No. I wasn’t trying to make you jealous. I was trying to have some fun since you’re clearly not interested at all.”

That insufferable smirk of his doesn’t go away for a minute. If anything, he’s more incensed by your anger. “Who said I wasn’t interested?” Your lips part, another dumb little noise about to slip out when he dips down and stops you. 

He’s not trying to be subtle at all, gripping your dress and tugging you up against him while your lips lock. His tongue dips briefly into your mouth, savoring the taste of tequila on your gums before he pulls back. 

“I’m interested in you, kid, just not this shitty little club.” Your mouth is gaping and you feel like a fool, standing there and just staring at him. Your brain is completely scrambled, bits and pieces forming together to scream that he kissed you. Too many things are happening at once. The music is making the floor beneath you vibrate, liquor is warming you from the inside out and tilting you closer to him. And he kissed you. Your lips are still tingling from it. 

He chuckles a little under his breath, keeping you moving steadily against him. You’re simply something to be puppeteered by your desire for him. No thoughts linger inside your brain except his name. “You’re interested in me?” You repeat dumbly.

He leans down, tilting his lips closer towards your ear. “You can’t feel how much I want you?” One of your thighs is practically draped over his leg and he’s grinding his hips against you. The only thing you can feel is him. The smell of his cologne overpowers all the bodies surrounding you both, his voice drones out the loud music around you. You’re completely consumed by him. 

“Logan,” your tone is scandalized, you can’t believe he’s bold enough to have you nearly half-naked on his lap right now. Your butt is one wrong move away from being the club’s newest attraction. Yet, despite every protest lingering on your tongue, you can’t do anything except kiss him again. 

You don’t know if the moment is all one vivid wet dream your brain has conjured up at three am and you don’t feel like finding out. You want to enjoy being risky for once. You always play everything so safely. You don’t confess your feelings to Logan so you aren’t rejected. You never break the rules, you never act out. Just once, you want to do something bad and enjoy it. 

Your arms twine around his neck and you tilt your head to deepen the kiss further. You feel his reaction more than you hear it. A low grumble in his chest that has you practically vibrating with want. He pulls away from you first and it takes a moment for your eyes to flutter back open. 

When you finally do meet his gaze again, he’s got nothing but a smoldering desire in his eyes that makes you want to melt. He’s staring you down like you’re prey to be chased and consumed. “Can’t do this here,” he mutters. 

You’re almost shocked that he’s the first one to cut this off. You knew it was going to happen, you can’t exactly fuck in the middle of the dance floor. As much as you might want to. But you thought you would be the one to chicken out. 

He grabs your hand and shoves through the throng of grinding bodies. You grab the back of his shirt, stumbling after him and trying to stay close. “As much as I’d like to make that poor son of a bitch watch me fuck you, we need a little more privacy.”

It takes you a moment to realize he’s talking about the man you’d danced with earlier. If you could even qualify that as dancing. He’d barely put his hand on your waist before Logan had appeared out of nowhere.

Your eyes narrow in suspicion and you glare at his back. How had he even gotten to you so quickly? He must have been watching you like a creep the whole time. You almost want to laugh at the thought. But you’re distracted by him nudging you through a door and locking it behind you. 

You glance around, spotting three sinks and some cracked mirrors. Toilet stalls linger to your right and your nose wrinkles in disgust. You turn around to complain but he’s already stalking toward you. Whatever sanitary complaints were lingering in the back of your throat are thrown out the sealed bathroom window. 

He buries his hands in your hair, ruining the meticulously placed style. You arch into his hold, opening your mouth for him to explore and gasping as his hand drops to your hips. He tugs you closer, ripping your dress up and yanking your underwear down in one smooth move. 

You barely have a second to process half of what’s happening before he’s got you bent over the sink. It’s all happening so fast, so many different desires of yours surging to the surface in one dingy club bathroom. 

You’re slick with months of fantasies and sleepless nights where not even your vibrator could curb your desire for him. You hear his belt clink behind you and your back arches like a cat in heat. You practically present yourself to him, so desperate to feel him that you don’t care how much of a slut you’re being. 

You know, if this was anyone else, you’d slap them for even suggesting the bathroom as the first place you have sex. But you’d have let Logan take you in the alley behind the club. You don’t care where you are, just so long as it's with him. And you know that desire runs a bit deeper than just a surface-level crush. 

He doesn’t give you much warning as he thrusts into you. The breath is practically punched out of you as he fills you. Everything about it feels right. You’re so full of him you feel like you could explode. You know it’s going to take a pathetically short time for you to come. It’s just too much, too fast, you’re so overwhelmed by him. 

“Oh god, Logan,” the porcelain creaks under your palms before you feel it splintering off into your skin. You can’t pay attention to it, though, jaw agape, capable of nothing more than slutty moans of his name. 

He’s relentless behind you, thrusting so hard inside you that it feels like a punishment. He fists his hand in your hair and forces you to look in the mirror. “Come on, want you to see how wrecked you are. What a fucking slut you’re being for me, letting me fuck you like this in this bar.”

Your mascara is completely ruined, streaked down your face with your lipstick smeared across your chin. You look like a fucking mess and you couldn’t care less. You feel yourself fluttering around him the tighter his grip on you is. His hand slips from your hair, latching around your neck and tugging you into his chest. 

He grips your chin and keeps your eyes on where the two of you are joined in the mirror. It only makes you clench tighter around him, watching as he moves in and out of you. You can see just how much of an effect you're having on him and it’s the biggest ego boost you’ve ever had in your life. 

You’ve reduced him to a mess in a dirty club bathroom, so desperate for you he couldn’t even wait to take you home. He tilts his hips, hitting the spot inside you that has your eyes nearly rolling in the back of your head.

You whisper his name in warning, letting go of the sink to clutch tightly at his wrist. He wraps his arm around your waist, keeping you secured against him. His hips start to stutter, losing some of their rhythm the tighter you are around him. The feeling builds in your fingers, tingles down to the tips of your toes, and explodes in a nearly blinding pleasure. His hips are still against you, warmth filling you a moment later. 

You would slump forward into the sink if it weren’t for his protective hold around your stomach. He keeps you tight against his chest for a minute, waiting for you to catch your bearings again. It takes an embarrassingly long time for the feeling in your legs to come back. You’ve never had such an intense experience like that. 

You don’t know if it's from the thrill of possibly getting caught or just because you were with him. You’ve longed and lusted after Logan for so long, and finally having the real thing is a bit of shock. Especially when he exceeded your fantasies, you didn’t even know that was possible.

He props you against the sink, tugging your dress down and pulling your underwear back up. You watch him with dulled interest, still reeling from what you’ve just done. You’ve never been so bold before, it almost feels liberating to just say ‘fuck it’ and do what you want. 

He pulls his own pants back up, fixing his belt and grabbing a wet paper towel for you. He’s silent as he wipes the mascara of your cheeks and you give him a questioning look. “You want the others to know what happened?”

You scoff and glance away from him, looking towards the door of the bathroom. “I’m sure they already know. Weren’t exactly subtle,” you tell him with a small smile. 

He smirks, tossing the towel away and walking back towards you. He keeps his arms on either side of you, bracketing you against the sink and grinning down at you. “No, we weren’t, were we?”

You shake your head silently, lips curled up in amusement. Your eyes briefly dart to his lips before meeting his eyes once more. He catches the look with a sly smile, dipping his head down and giving you a brief kiss. 

It’s short and sweet, more loving than the passionate, rip-my-clothes-off kisses from before. It feels like the type of kiss a married couple would share in the early morning when they only want to remind the other they love each other. Your proximity and the look he’s giving you feel more intimate than anything that just happened. 

“You really meant it?” You muse, voice barely above a whisper as you smile at him. 

“Meant what?” He mutters. 

“You like me,” you tease, entangling your hand with his and tugging him even closer to you. 

He gives you a confused look, glancing at the sink behind you and then back at your disheveled form. “Did I not make that clear enough, kid?”

You shake your head, “No, I think I might need another reminder,” you tell him. It takes a moment for your words to click for him. You can see when it does, he gives you a small smile and shakes his head with an aggrieved sigh like you’re bugging him. 

“Really making me work for it, huh?” You nod your head playfully, dragging him down towards you and bringing him into another kiss. You can deal with the line forming outside in a minute. You can push off your nosy friends’ questions for another day. Right now, it’s just you and him, finally doing what you’ve wanted since the moment you saw him. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp ♡ 

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte 

@mrs-ephemeral @wolviesgirl @allllium @insomniachox @izbelross  ♡

[obsesssedblerd]

18 with Gojo and my life is YOURS 🤭

#18: “Were you watching me just now?” 

[18+ content below, MDNI]

pairing: satoru gojo x f! reader

contains: smut, reader catching gojo masturbating, cowgirl, office sex, unprotected p-in-v (wrap it before you tap it), creampie, gojo being cocky, a bit of crack bc reader is slightly unserious lol, use of pet names (pretty girl)

likes, reblogs and comments appreciated <3 

a/n: prompt edited slightly bc gojo is gojo lol. also, y’all know that one meme that goes something like “i be like “fuck him” and then end up actually fucking him”? lmao yeah.

— — — — 

You hated working long hours, but the amount of curses that have been spotted in Tokyo during the last few weeks have given you, your colleagues and the students plenty to do.

With Suguru Geto keeping a close eye on the first-years as they complete their mission, and Kento Nanami doing the same for the second-years, that leaves you alone at the school late at night, silently completing some paperwork. 

Well, you thought you were alone. 

You walk through the empty halls of Jujutsu Tech, thumbing through some files that Yaga accidentally left you. They actually belong to the colleague that you thought about way more than you should; Satoru Gojo. As you approach his office, your steps slow as you raise an eyebrow in confusion. 

The sliding door is slightly cracked, and the light is on. You know that he works the most out of everyone here, however, it’s your first time seeing him at the school so late. It’s nearly midnight. You’re about to call out his name, but stop when you hear it—the soft exhale, almost like a blissful sigh. Curious, you peek through the crack in the door, and your eyes widen at the sight in front you. 

Satoru Gojo is fully leaned back in his chair with an arm tucked behind his head, his shirt raised just enough to expose his chiseled abs, and his pants are unbuttoned. Your eyes drift lower, and heat rises to your face when you see him stroking his cock. You know it’s wrong, and you know that you should look away, however, you can’t. 

The matching jacket to his uniform isn’t anywhere to be found, and he’s wearing a dark shirt, which is just a little bit tight since his muscles bulge with every movement. You’ve worked alongside him for two years, but this is your first time seeing just how defined and strong his body is. His cock is long and thick, and a small part of you feels jealous of his hand, wishing that you were the one touching and stroking. 

Your stomach flips. Fuck, what are you thinking?

Satoru’s head tilts back a bit to settle against his arm, and he lets out a deep, barely-audible groan as he continues to relieve himself. The sound of it makes your body grow warm. Though his blindfold is on, you can tell that his eyes are shut. You notice an earbud in one of his ears, however, his phone is face down on the desk next to him. Not watching something, but listening to something. You never thought that he’d be the type to prefer audio over visual porn. 

His chest rises and falls with each quiet breath, and you wonder if he does this whenever the school is empty and he just has a few minutes to himself. Since he’s the main one constantly handling difficult missions, meetings with the higher-ups and training the students, you assumed that he barely had time for anything else. Being the strongest sorcerer seems far too intense. The work, teaching the next generation, dealing with the Limitless technique and the Six Eyes, being the one who—

Your heart drops when you suddenly remember. Six Eyes. Six Eyes. There’s absolutely no way he doesn’t know that you’re there right now. 

You quietly turn around and walk down the hall as quietly as you can back to your office, absolutely hating yourself for staying as long as you did.  

Not even two minutes go by until you’re thinking about Satoru in his office again. You exhale and continue writing reports, desperately trying to ignore the slight ache between your thighs. On your desk, your phone begins to vibrate. You think it’s Suguru Geto with an update, but it’s not. 

It’s him. 

You take a few seconds to contemplate your next move, then end up picking up the phone, keeping your voice as level as possible. “Hello? It’s late.” 

“Like what you saw?” Satoru asks smugly. You can tell he’s grinning slyly. He knows.

You attempt to save yourself anyway. “Huh?” 

“Don’t “huh” me, you were watching me just now,” he replies in a low voice. “Didn’t know our pretty, quiet sorcerer was such a pervert. So, I’ll ask again: Like what you saw?” 

“...I didn’t mean to stare,” you say after a few beats of silence. “What kind of person does that with the door open anyway??” 

“I pissed Nanami off last month and he slammed my door pretty hard. It hasn’t been able to close all the way ever since.” When you go quiet again, Satoru chuckles teasingly. “You still haven’t answered my question.” 

You scoff. “What if I told you that I wasn’t going to answer that?” 

“Oh, I know the answer, pretty girl,” he purrs, and the nickname makes your stomach flutter. “I was just giving you the opportunity to use your words and admit that you want me. You’re kinda bad at hiding your little crush, y’know.” 

You flusteredly fumble over your words, and Satoru continues talking before you can form a complete sentence. “These last few weeks have been rough on you too, and I’m certain that you can also use a bit of relief. It’s just us here. No one will know.” 

“And if I told you no?” You ask with a small, questioning hum. “Would you go back to listening to your porn?” 

“Too bad we won’t find out, because you and I both know that you’re coming back here.” 

The smugness in his voice makes you grit your teeth. “Cocky asshole.”

“Mhm. See you in a bit.”

 He hangs up the phone, and you scoff, practically tossing the device back onto your desk. You readjust yourself in your seat, try to think past the surge of lust and remember where you were in your reports before he called. He’s so unbelievably frustrating, so arrogant, so not someone you should want. 

“Fuck him,” you grumble to yourself as you continue writing. 

—

“Ohhh god. Shit,” Satoru hisses through his teeth as his hands grip your waist. “You’re so fucking tight.”

You truly don’t know how you ended up here. One moment, you’re writing reports, and the next, you’re back in Satoru’s office, kissing him as hard as you could so you wouldn’t hear any sarcastic and smug comments from him before shoving him back into his chair and riding him. His cock feels bigger than it looks, and it reaches so deep that every movement strikes your weak spot. The floor of Satoru’s office is littered with your clothing, and you’re beyond thankful that no one else is in the building, because you’re certain that your sultry moans can be heard from anywhere. 

Satoru trails open-mouth kisses along your chest, then sucks yet another mark onto one of your tits. You run your hands through his hair, then hold his shoulders to steady yourself as you continue bouncing on his cock, relishing the feeling of his skin without his infinity. You’re finally touching him, and it feels incredible. 

He notices the way your hands can’t get enough of him, and he smirks up at you, his cerulean eyes light with amusement. “So much better than staring, hm? You’re— Mmm…” He groans pleasurably when you cut off his words by kissing him again.

“Shut up,” you sharply tell him in between kisses. “You talk too fucking much.” 

“And you love it. You’re fucking soaked,” he retorts, and when he notices your movements begin to slow, he readjusts his grip on your waists and assists you, moving you up and down on his cock. Your mouth falls open when he changes the pace, fucking you a bit faster. “And close, too,” he notes, smiling when your pussy begins to twitch around his cock. “You’re squeezing me so tight. Gonna cum for me?” 

You nod rapidly, and he brings one hand to where your bodies are joined together and begins rubbing your clit to get you to finish faster. You cry out as you climax, and your orgasm immediately triggers his. Satoru curses, and you feel his cock spasm as his cum spills deep within you. Heat floods your face at the feeling. It’s the first time anyone’s ever cum inside of you before, and you like it. A lot. You relax against him, and he wraps his arms around you, his cock still inside of you. Both of you stay like that as you and him catch your breath. 

Once you’re ready, you finally lift yourself off of his cock, both of you lightly gasping and hissing at the sensitivity. You feel his warm cum begin to drip out. There’s so much of it. 

“You should work late more often,” Satoru jokes lightly to break the silence, and you look at the sorcerer. He’s staring up at you, smirking, his white hair messy and his eyes soft. “I like how loud you are.” 

You scoff and roll your eyes, but your heart pounds at his shameless confession. You swipe his phone up from your desk and wave it in front of him. “And you should stop watching porn at work.” 

“I don’t watch. I like to imagine. I pick a video where the pornstar’s moans are similar to what I imagined what you’d sound like, then go from there,” he says simply.

Your eyes widen in shock. “Wait—you’ve been imagining me?” 

“For a while, yeah,” he replies, tapping your thighs once to gesture that he’s moving, and you stand up next to his desk so he can do so. He also stands up, and that’s when you notice that he’s still hard. “You sound way sexier than I imagined,” he tells you. “Everything about you is way better than I imagined.” 

He stands behind you, slightly leaning forward and placing one of his hands on the desk in front of you. His other hand gently lands on your waist. “Like I said earlier, it’s just us here, and I’m nowhere near done making you scream,” he whispers in your ear. “Bend over.”

----

prompt list <3

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FOR FAKE DATING & GOING UNDERCOVER *  assorted dialogue for muses going undercover as a couple and having to maintain the illusion that they're dating, and all the chaos, feelings, and whatnot that come with it, suggested by dollhidden, adjust as necessary, send "reverse" for the reversal of action prompts

DIALOGUE PROMPTS

come on. at least pretend that you like me.

if we hold hands, that'll sell the illusion even more.

what petnames do you think we'd use if we were actually dating?

please don't make this too difficult on me.

stop letting go of my hand.

you're going to pay for this later.

that was way too close of a call.

[petname]? that's what we're going with?

could you at least look like you like me for an hour? is that so hard?

admit it. i'm not half bad.

didn't think i would enjoy this as much as i am.

did you take acting classes growing up?

excuse me! i'm just trying to sell the illusion!

do you think they bought it?

you don't look like you love me. you look like you're constipated.

way to lay it on thick. i think you might have done too good of a job.

pretend to laugh at one of my jokes.

i guess i didn't expect you to dress up for this. i'm impressed.

you know, if you treated me like that on the regular, i might actually start falling in love with you.

they have to believe we're together. how hard can it be?

quick, pretend like you're about to kiss me.

you clearly care more about the tiny appetizers than you do me.

i'm just here for the free champagne.

you clean up nice.

that honestly wasn't as bad as i thought it would be.

they're looking over here. quick, say something funny.

that... was surprisingly smooth of you.

you don't date much, do you?

we should pretend to date more often.

hey! my eyes are up here!

shit, they're coming. kiss me.

ACTION PROMPTS all of these are written as if both parties are fake dating and going undercover at some specified event, but feel free to add your own scenarios if you'd like!

[ hand ] sender quickly takes receiver's hand in public to avoid getting caught

[ waist ] sender quickly slides an arm around receiver's waist in public to avoid getting caught

[ propose ] sender stages a dramatic fake proposal to further sell their relationship to the crowd, catching receiver completely off guard

[ fake fight ] sender and receiver stage a coordinated fake fight/messy breakup in front of the crowd

[ kiss ] realizing they need to sell their relationship to an important person/people, sender and receiver kiss for the first time

[ coat ] noticing receiver is cold, sender gives them their coat

[ entrance ] sender and receiver approach the entrance of the secret event and discuss their plans for selling their fake relationship to the crowd

[ slip away ] sender slips away from receiver in order to take a break from pretending, and receiver goes to find them

[ off limits ] sender and receiver are exploring an off limit portion of the event space, get caught, and are forced to try to explain how they got lost

[ the big kiss ] to conceal the fact that they're exploring an off limit portion of the event space, sender kisses receiver dramatically once they're caught

[ introduce ] sender introduces receiver as their lover/date/partner to a very important (and potentially dangerous) person at this event

[ family ] sender introduces receiver as their lover/date/partner to their family, who just so happens to also be at the event

[ lost ] sender loses receiver in the crowd and rushes to relocate them before their cover is blown

[ flirt ] when someone else shows interest in receiver, sender steps in and makes it clear they're "taken"

[ exit ] sender and receiver have successfully accomplished their goal, and now must sneak out of the event as covertly as possible

[ spill ] sender accidentally spills their drink on receiver and rushes them to the restroom to clean them up

[ private ] in a brief moment of privacy between the two fake daters, sender admits to receiver that they don't think receiver is as bad as they thought

[yandere-sins]

Monstober - Day 5: Naga/Lamia [Elemental Sacrifices Part 1/4]

I am fashionably late and since this story was supposed to come out on my birthday I switched the prompts since we all know Nagas are my roman empire, hehe >:3

Also this is part 1 of 4 of a little mini-series happening in this Monstober Challenge, and I will lovingly call it the Elemental Sacrifices. I know we already had a sacrifice before, but what if—hear me out—we have 4 more? Yes, I thought that was a good idea too, glad we agree :D

(They are not much related aside from the concept, but they are in the same universe, so maybe there's some potential for future ideas! :D)

Prompt: Day 6: Naga/Lamia | Scales // Wrapping around // Poisonous Warnings: Yandere, AFAB!Reader, Sexual Actions (Dub-Con, Use of Aphrodisiac, Drinking said Aphrodisiac and getting it stabbed into your arm, Deep Kissing, Accidentally cutting your own tongue, Fingering), Violence (Biting with fangs, Description of (meager) fighting, Cutting the enemy, Blood mention), Monsters + Descriptions of Monsters, Light self-degradation, Long Post

The tradition had always existed.

From the moment you were born, you were told about the sacrifices made to the four gods, which took place twice a century. The four tribes would unite in peace and unity for this month of reverence, choosing their sacrifices carefully and laying down their weapons to organize and strategize the ceremonies so that no god would feel aggrieved. It was a wonder that people that worshipped different things, lived by different means, and usually clashed like hot and cold, light and shadow, could work together meaningfully to pay their respects, assure that everyone would continue to be in the favor of the different gods that roamed the lands you lived on.

And yet, somehow, it had always worked out.

"There, almost done," your mother mumbled, curling your still-damp hair around her finger so it would frame your face. You clenched your fists in your lap as you sat in front of the mirror, unable to even look at yourself without retching. 20 years ago, when you were told the stories for the first time, no one had assumed you'd be the one to be sacrificed in the next ceremony. No one informed you that your days were numbered, your purpose to be nothing but monster fodder.

Because that's what they were, monsters, nothing more, nothing less.

A two-headed snake, an ancient tree, a tentacled beast, and a fire-spewing reptile with wings—those were the four monsters you and the other tribes worshipped with offerings and sacrifices. All your life, you practiced the mindful handling of the teachings, learning how to hunt, fight, and serve your god. But even so, just because you were born the child of the leader, you were going to be discarded by your own people, and your hatred was as fiery as the vulcanos that surrounded your homeland.

"I heard the water tribe sends their most wonderful singer this year, too."

It was a frail attempt at small talk, and you couldn't care less about how pleased your mother sounded as she told you about the other sacrifices. The other poor souls that probably wanted nothing more than to run away about now. You had hidden your tears very well with your head hung low, but you couldn't imagine the other sacrifices felt any less miserable as you did.

You had plans for the future, plans that involved leading this tribe and creating a family sometime. Maybe participate in a war with the other tribes and show off the prowess of the fire tribe leader's oldest child. It was in the nature of your people to be strong and powerful, as was the exceptional artistry of the water people.

"And the earthclan sends another one of their scholars. I don't understand why they think the nature gods would like all these people hiding with their noses in their books, but I'm sure they have their reason for choosing them. Oh, but the wind people are also sending their ruler's child, just like you!"

A tone of pride swung in her voice as she continued arranging vividly red flowers like a crown in your head, pulling at strands of your hair to wrap them into the stems so they'd hold. "And yet, you'll make the prettiest sacrifice of them all. You'll make us all so proud!"

Inside of you, a war broke loose. A war you knew you couldn't win as you knelt on the floor of your childhood home, the place you always thought safest in all of the lands, yet it was no longer the place you'd return to after this expedition. All your good deeds and all your achievements were for naught because when the announcement was sent out that the sacrifice was going to be held that year, it ended your life instantly.

A part of you knew it could happen. Although you never wished this fate on anyone, you had always hoped for a sibling, born or adopted into your family, that could take this responsibility from you ever since you learned of it. Other tribes voted. They chose by luck or by skill at the time of sacrifice. But not yours. Yours had traditions, which meant the leader's strongest family member would go to the gods and ask for their blessings. Get eaten in exchange for a promise of safety and prosperity that the monsters could easily break on a whim. Returning would mean the blessing failed, so that wasn't an option. If you couldn't appease them alive, you would do it with your death. The ultimate sacrifice.

"Now, you're perfect. Look at you, my pretty child."

Pushing her fingertips into the underside of your jaw, your mother forced you to look up into the mirrors. Tears tumbled from your eyes as your head snapped upwards to avoid the discomfort of her nagging touch, and you watched her expression fall in her reflection. Not from sorrow, mind you, but anger.

"This is your duty," she reminded you. "Now that you have grown up and proved your worth, you should feel honored to be chosen."

You bit your tongue, swallowing the disrespect you wanted to voice. You couldn't care less about the sacrifice, about gaining the ire of some monster that some old people had decided to worship. About your mother's opinion or that of anyone else!

Deep inside you, you were afraid. Fear, first and foremost, had always been your teacher. It showed you the boundaries of your abilities and pushed you to perform deeds beyond your capabilities in times of need. It wasn't something to be ashamed of or scolded for; it was natural and normal.

But right behind it was anger. Anger at this tradition, anger at your family, and anger at the monsters for demanding lives in exchange for peace. Gods they called themselves, but there was nothing godly about how they conducted their demands. They were cowards with a taste for human blood, and instead of fighting and being slain by those humans, they demanded sacrifices to satisfy their hunger.

And there was nothing you could do to save yourself.

If you rebelled, you'd be dragged out by your limbs and hair, even if that destroyed the work they put into prettying you up. Who needed to be pretty when they'd be eaten alive? Still, as a warrior at heart, you couldn't imagine a greater shame than to force your friends to bring you to that dreadful sacrificial space, even if they might think it was for the greater good. If you had to go out, you wanted to do so with your head held high, no matter how foolish that pride of yours was. It was better than to put your unfair death entirely into the hands of others.

If you were going to be a martyr, then you'd at least die fighting until your last breath.

---

"That's far enough," you announced, coming to a halt at the edge of the lush green forest you used to hunt in. Before you, vulcanic stone spread in dark hues as far as you could see. Ash filled the air, mixed with the taste of metal and fire. Nothing grew on the stone ground, it was as welcoming as a death threat. Veins of red broke through the stone, leading to pools of lava that was cooking beneath the stone surface, the air simmering from the heat that immediately greeted you, coating your skin in a sheen of sweat. Once you had found the duality of this place beautiful. Now you dreaded it, hands curled into fists as you took slow, steady breaths to calm yourself.

"I wish to face the gods myself."

"Go forth then. Make us proud," your father expressed, resting his hand on your shoulder. A simple squeeze was all you got, and much like your mother who hugged you before your departure, their gestures were too brief to be any comfort. You wondered how they could have possibly come to terms so quickly with losing their own child when you, the one to be sacrificed, were struggling with your fear and pride.

Every step on the hot floor was like a stab of a knife in your back. The hunting party that had accompanied you watched as you continued your journey towards the sacrificial space the ancestors had created, their gazes like whips that spurred you on. But they didn't linger. Since they didn't have to tie you down on the altar, they had no reason to watch the gruesome death of their own kind, knowing that either way, you weren't going to return. You knew the way back to your village like the inside of your pocket, years of roaming the jungles teaching you how to go home. But they'd kill you before you cursed the village with your failure to be sacrificed. Merciless, cold. You were no longer a part of them. You were a meager part of the tradition now.

However, the way to the altar was actually more of a challenge than going home. You had only been there once as a child, laying flowers down for your uncle, who had been the last sacrifice years before your birth. Your father may have called him your uncle, but it turned out he was an adopted orphan who ended up paying for his dedication to your family much later. Your father seemed unsympathetic towards him, but it dawned on you that he must have never been close to this brother of his, probably knowing the fate that awaited him.

You never knew your uncle, but back then, you had been proud of him, too.

That day was also the first time your father explained the traditions and the importance of keeping them up. How much honor it brought to your family and how many lives it saved to lose one person. You wondered why, after he taught you so many skills, worked so hard to make you a respected member of your tribe, and loved you like a father would, he could so easily send you to your death. But it slowly dawned on you what kind of person your father was. One that didn't truly cared for his "family", only for his own pride and gains. And you had been so easily fooled as to believe him all this time.

It took you much longer than you remembered, but eventually, you reached the grounds your ancestors had created for this spectacle. It was close to the foot of the volcano, an altar erected from the stone sprouting from the ground with nothing else present in this wasteland. The heat had increased substantially over time, every breath burning in your lungs, your eyes dry, and your feet chafed from walking over the smoldering stone for so long. Dread was no longer a constant companion as acceptance slowly crept into your mind. You had seen the bones of many humans on the way to this place. Apparently, not everyone had been so lucky to have made it this far, either the environment or the monster killing them before they reached the altar. Or maybe themselves, now that you thought about it.

The sight of the raised altar forced a shuddering breath out of your lungs, the stinging sensation barely enough to distract you from the blaring truth. You were going to die. One way or another, you would. Touching the side of your leg, you felt the leather holster beneath your dress. The dagger you sneaked would probably not be enough to kill the monster, if there ever was one. Still, if you could inflict some damage to it, perhaps your tribe would one day snap out of the trance that it was this immortal threat that your ancestors appeased by offering their own children to it. Maybe they'd see the wounds and realize they didn't have to cower in fear of it, and thus, maybe your sacrifice would not be in vain.

Brushing your hand over the warm stone, you felt an untypical cold shudder run down your spine, knowing it was meant to be your deathbed. You wondered how many before you had laid here, waiting for the monster to come. How many had prayed, hoped, and begged to be saved, and how many had fought and struggled like you were going to. Following in their footsteps now, you knew they did what they thought was their best. That was the greatest honor you could bestow on them.

You hoisted yourself up, struggling to climb on top of the massive stone slab, before you sat close to the edge and stretched out your legs, feeling the burned and chafed soles of your feet crack as they finally got some rest. Hissing, you were confronted with the pain, yet you only sighed, swiping your hands over your face to free you of the sweat that was desperately trying to cool you down. Even if you were used to the warmer temperature of your home, it was nothing against the volcanic heat, and you almost admired it for burning for so long, never bothered by anyone. The air was as heavy as your soul felt, trapped in your body and scared to the heavens.

Imagining the snake did very little to soothe your mind, but you still tried to prepare for the shock its sight undoubtedly would be. You imagined a snake as tall as a building, with two heads splitting apart at one end. Heads with sharp fangs and venom dripping out of their mouths, eyes that ate you up before their maw even got close to you. It would slither over the ground, nimble, avoiding the lava pools, but too large to hide behind the wasteland it reigned over. Bloodlust urging it on as it smelled the sweet fragrance of the flowers on your head, which were delighted to bloom in the warm temperatures. A green tail? Brown? Perhaps a little of both? Maybe its scales were dark red like all the blood it drank from the sacrifices.

"Look at that, they do sacrifice their own kind."

Deep in thought, the heat probably having gone to your head, you hadn't noticed the chafing sound that slithered closer from behind. Only when someone suddenly spoke did your mind alert you of the danger, and you jumped down from the altar, swiftly spinning around and bracing yourself. One hand hovered over your dagger beneath your dress, and the other arm stayed defensively in front of you. With the distance you managed to jump and the massive altar separating you from the monster, you were at a surprising advantage, and it felt good to have the upper hand.

Your eyes widened at the sight of two men standing behind the altar, one of them leaning down on the stone surface right next to where you had sat. In contrast, the other stood straight with his arms behind his back, but both watched you with burning intensity. Immediately, you noticed their similar appearances, the light grey hair falling from their heads, bound by braids, and still with countless strands falling over their exposed chests. Their eyes were like marbles, reflecting the different colors of the area in them, elongated pupils slightly vibrating as they fixated over and over on you. But what really put you off was their size. Their legs must have been easily as tall as the altar, and that was no size a normal human should have had.

"Mother never told us sacrifices were this cute."

The man leaning on the table rolled over on his side, his hair splaying all over the altar in waves. And yet, even while moving, his gaze never trailed off—but yours did. You let out a horrified gasp as the scaled tail of a snake buckled and arched to accommodate the man's movements, and with a surprised jolt, he reared upwards, exposing even more of the tail that started at his hips.

A moment of silence washed over you three, and you felt incredibly exposed and stared down by two pairs of eyes as if they were pinning you into place. Willing you to not move a muscle, to be eaten without putting up a fight. No one said anything before the startled man laughed out loudly, shaking his head and holding his belly before slapping his free hand attention-seekingly against his companion's arm.

"That scared me," he chuckled. "I've never heard that kind of sound before."

The other man let out a hum of agreement, nodding his head before looking back at you. You were at a clear disadvantage, unsure where to look first and who to focus on, as you were outnumbered by the two. The one that kept talking was smaller than the other, although this could have been the heat playing tricks on you. Both were muscular, but he was less refined than his almost-twin. You wagered you could take him on if there wasn't a scaley tail winding from his hips. That would be additional weight you couldn't topple, no matter how much you playfighted the other hunters and warriors of your tribe, which sometimes outdid you in terms of weight and size.

The quieter one, on the other hand, had the typical looks of a working man in the village: big arms coming from a strong back and toned muscles that the woman would drool over, while the other seemed fit and nimble. But your eyes unwillingly focused on the tail as the two scaled the altar, moving forward oddly in sync until it became clear why.

Their two strands of tails flowed together between them into one massive one.

It was mesmerizing, you had to admit, the scales an iridescent white. But whenever the tail moved, it took on the hues of the land, grey and red, only to return to their original color as it wound itself. You were awestruck and panicked at the same time, as the tail seemed to be neverending, wrapping around the altar, finding hold on the stony ground that even your feet struggled with. Fear filled you as you watched their slithering movements, the mistake in your thinking now glaringly clear: The monster existed, and it had come for you.

"Y-You're the monster!" you screamed, and the smaller one of the two scrunched up his nose, taking offense. The white scales swept over the altar, landing in the space between you and the stone with a heavy thud. His body was barely shaken by the impact, so perfectly in balance with itself despite their unnatural split into two different entities, and the seriousness of the situation rained down on you like their sharp gazes as you realized there would be no chance of you overpowering either of them.

Even with their connection, they spread out too far to reach both simultaneously. They could still move independently, even if their range was limited to what their body could give. But even without them rearing up on the tail, they were almost two heads taller than you were. They knew their body better than anyone, and you didn't doubt they had some tricks up their non-existing sleeves to best you.

Biting your lip, you finally slipped your hand beneath your dress, never letting the monster—monsters—out of your sight. To your surprise, you watched their gazes slip to where you raised the fabric, observing you with curious intention, their split tongues slipping out from their lips, tasting the air as they ogled at your exposed thigh.

Your hand curled around the grip of your dagger, and the moment you pulled it from its holster, the snakes lept forward. There was no time to be proud of yourself, but your reaction was immaculate. You jumped back just in time to avert the nimble one's grabby hands, even drawing blood as your blade slit open the skin between his thumb and pointer finger.

However, as fast as you dealt with one of the snakes, you couldn't recover quickly enough to avoid the second pair of hands. Much like you anticipated, their range was too extensive to fight both of them at once, and although you ducked beneath one hand of the stronger monster, his second hand latched on, right in your hair. You watched as the red petals of the flower crown loosened and swayed in the air like a sad veil of defeat.

Your head was yanked back, and you acted quickly, directing the knife towards the unprotected free shoulder, somewhere that would hurt. Somewhere that would leave a visible scar and show everyone that these monsters could be injured. But a bloody grip around your wrist prevented you from pushing the dagger into the creature's partially scaled bodies, your hopes crumbling into ash.

"You good?" the more muscular man asked, and the other clicked his tongue in annoyance while you flailed and struggled in their grip. Your free hand was useless as you couldn't even reach forward enough, and so were your legs as you stood on your tiptoes while they yanked you around.

The latter lifted the hand that was holding your wrist to his mouth, licking up the blood that spilled from the cut on his as he maintained eye contact. You bared your teeth in both pain and defiance, not showing any of the miserable fear and panic you felt inside. You didn't manage to do what you came here for, and you felt the power surging through their bodies just from their hands on you. The failure gnawed at your determination, the fight as good as lost.

"We're not monsters," he hissed, glowering at you, although it looked more like a pout. "But you sure are quick on your feet."

Their comments should not have caused your heart to swell with pride, but hearing it from the monster you swore to hurt in exchange for your life did feel good.

"Surely you wish you'd have gotten an easier meal, monster! But I won't go down until I have shown everyone that you can be wounded and defeated! That you will bleed if the people unite! There will be no more sacrifices once they've seen what I did to you!"

"We're not monsters!" they repeated in unison before exchanging a brief glance with each other.

"Well, I won't call you god and beg for your mercy!" you spat, and the lips of the snake with your hand in his grip curled into a grin.

"Are you sure about that?"

With his blood coating your hand, he raised it way over your head, causing you to gasp as your whole body strained to accommodate the movement. His hand slipped upwards, a few fingers holding you in place, while some snaked between your palm and the knife in your grasp, prying your hold from it inch by inch. You let out a soft whine as the leather grip was torn from you and watched the metal clatter to the ground.

But you didn't have the time to mourn the loss of your only weapon, not when your arm was bent backward. Immediately, your free hand shot up, trying to dig your nails into the fingers wrapped around your wrist still.

That was your greatest mistake. With his free hand, the quiet monster immediately reached for both of yours, wrapping them in his palm as quickly as their tail could around your body.

You were kept on your tiptoes as you felt the scales of said tail slither over your skin. Creeping beneath your soles and running up your ankles, squeezing the flesh of your shins firmly together before wrapping around each thigh individually. You kicked and squirmed, but their tail was almost as unrelenting as their hands, and you involuntarily winced as your wrists were squeezed together as if tied by a rope.

"It's true we are not the monster you're trying to defeat," the leaner one claimed again, licking his wound like an injured animal.

"That's our mother," his brother explained curtly, and your head whirled around to him, the questions etched into your face.

"Look at us; we're only half the snake she is."

With an exasperated huff, you looked back and forth between the two, reeling at the revelation. "That's not possible! You... you are a snake with two heads. It's exactly as it's told in our stories!"

"They're not wrong..."

"I mean, she is a literal snake with two heads. And she's gigantic. You should be glad she didn't find you first, or you'd be even less than a small snack for her."

"And our dad is human. Like you."

You must have looked rightfully befuddled as the two went back and forth on their explanation, but once they were done, you could only gulp, unsure what to make of the situation. "So... you're not the monster that demands sacrifices?"

"No."

"Not really."

"Then..." It was hard to form the words that zapped through your mind, your mouth suddenly feeling dry again as the adrenaline sifted from your blood flow. Nothing could rationalize this situation, and you were still strung up by their hands and tail. This almost felt too good to be true, so you had to take your chance as long as you could. "You'll let me go?"

A moment of silence hung over all three of your heads before the brothers slowly ripped their gazes off you to exchange sly smirks. You wobbled as their body—and by extension, yours—set into motion, slithering back to the altar until you were sat down, your back forced to rest on the stone like a lamb to slaughter, hands hanging over the edge above your head and legs still wrapped by their tail.

"Oh, you can't just leave," the lean one purred, coming up from below you and planting his clawed hands firmly on either side of your arms. "The nights get so cold, and the days are so lonely with our mom busy occupying our dad. She never lets us play with him or come back to our home. Won't you keep us company for a while longer? I'm sure you can teach us some things, and we can teach you."

The other settled on the opposite side, still holding your hands in place as he grunted in agreement. You felt the bile rise in your throat as one touch slipped below your line of sight, claw-like nails raking up your thigh and moving beneath your dress. Their intentions got more apparent as the fabric was gripped from above, too, slowly, sensually raising over your skin until the hip strap of your underwear was revealed.

In a last-ditch effort, you tried to struggle once more, legs tugging upwards and kicking at the ever-winding tail while your hands twisted in their hold, causing it to crush down onto your bones even more. That wasn't how you wanted to go down; it wasn't the fight to death you thought you'd have!

"End me, then. Get it over with," you yelled out, laying your head to the side and closing your eyes, the reality too hard to face. Sooner or later, you'd die anyway, and if this were the things you'd have to endure, you'd rather be dead. It wasn't the kind of sacrifice you wanted to be, one defiled and molested before you'd be killed, so you'd rather be dead than witness it.

"Hush now," someone murmured, and you felt a hand sweep underneath your chin, turning your head forward again before tugging it up and over the altar's edge. Your eyes snapped open as your instincts kicked in, but as you opened your mouth to scream, it was quickly covered by another.

A tongue slipped between your opened lips before you could close them, slashing around inside harshly and clogging your throat. There was too much to take, and you gulped down the wetness it brought, sloshing it everywhere to the point it dripped from your lips, running down your face that immediately heated up beneath the fluid. It tasted sweet and even when you wanted to stop, you couldn't, gulping down all that was given to you.

Your body began to relax while you felt a hand drive down the front of your torso, brushing an entire palm over your breast and getting stuck on your nipple. You jolted, a pang of electricity flying to your head and down your spine, your back arching as you couldn't understand what was going on anymore. You had never felt this sensitive before, and as the hand continued to roam from one side to the other, finding the budding nip beneath your dress and twisting it, you let out an unholy moan into the mouth of the monster, your own tongue lashing upwards until it got caught on a sharp fang. Despite not feeling it, you were pretty sure your tongue was ripped open, but even more of the sweet-tasting, addictive stuff dripped from the fang, gushing into your mouth. You gobbled it up, considering you had nothing to drink throughout your journey, and your mind was not getting enough of the taste.

"Considering how quickly you got hooked on our mating fluids, I'd not be surprised if you do end up calling us gods when we're done with you."

You barely heard the voice of the curious onlooker beyond your line of sight, your mind wholly crazed by the liquid that coated all of your mouth and senses. It took almost more work to extract the monster's tongue from your throat than it had putting it inside. Your head followed it upwards, unwilling to part while the drool kept dripping down onto your face.

As you were freed of the kiss, a shameful, miserable sigh of disappointment escaped you, and you barely regained the ability to reply, "Never," in response to what the snake had said. That caused both of them to chuckle, and the sound sent a core-clenching, spine-tingling warmth throughout your body. Your lips quivering as your mind begged for more of that deep rumble cursing through their bodies.

"We'll see about that," the monster from below mumbled as he raked his claws over your thigh. Immediately, you were jolting upwards in their hold, caught between pain and pleasure as he lightly scabbed your skin. It was a small revenge for his own wound, and the scratches burned deliciously as they welcomed the hot air all around you two. "You're already so wet for us."

"It's called sweat," you mewled defiantly, the sound of your voice not befitting your sarcasm. You clenched your legs together, but it was a vain effort with the tail still stuck above your knees, easily prying them open by driving upwards. The scales rubbing over your skin didn't help your misery at all, and you wanted to throw your head against a solid wall with how dizzy and needy you felt. It wasn't you on that altar, but a very distorted version of you, one that wanted to be fucked silly even though what you really wanted was a good fight.

The two laughed at your comment, and you moaned in annoyance at the electricity that sapped through you at the sound of their voices. Your head fell back over the edge, and you came face to face with the more muscular one of the brothers as he lowered himself to your eye level. His eyes raked over your face, then up to your exposed neck just waiting to be bit.

"You're so cute," he mumbled, split tongue darting out again, tasting the air. Your pussy clenched as you wished for that tongue back in your throat or, even better, caressing your quivering folds below that were begging for something to fill their loneliness. The experience was new to you, as you had never wanted intimacy like this with anyone before. You had been so focused on your goals and diligently upholding your parents' rules and traditions that you never craved anyone, but especially not these two beasts.

"I'm not cute," you mewled, closing your eyes and biting your lips as you felt the sharp claws hover above your abdomen, gently stroking the skin below your navel from side to side, your core clenching even harder with pure, undiluted desire. But when the fingers slipped beneath the rim of your underwear, you moaned as you expected them to dip into the wet mess that lay just beneath, the expectation almost enough to send you over the edge.

"Oh, yeah?" the snake-man grinned, and you felt one finger press into your slit, your folds welcoming it warmly and with a shudder going through your body. You quaked in pleasure, eyes blown wide open, and the two fangs of the monster were all more prevalent as his lips split into a toothy smile. "So cute," he doubled down, pulling your arms taut until your body stretched to the last of its capabilities.

With his lips gently brushing against your forearm, you were wholly unprepared for the sharp pain as he dug his fangs deep into your skin. But the shriek quickly turned into a moan, your hips grinding against the finger probing at your entrance as more of the aphrodisiac went straight into your bloodstream. You watched the dark fluid drip off your arm, causing even more heat to spread where it flowed, and you were mercilessly whining as you couldn't move your hips nearly enough to satisfy your needs.

"Please," you snapped upwards, staring at the creature settled on top of the altar next to you, leisurely rubbing his hand along your pussy.

"There goes the begging," he reminded you, and you bit your lip to the point of hurting yourself.

Fuck, that wasn't what you wanted to say. It wasn't how you wanted to die, you never intended to let it get this far. Pathetic, pathetic, absolutely pathetic. You were a fucking warrior, you fought threats and hunted prey, you were not going to surrender to them—

"Fuck!" you gasped out loud this time as one digit slipped inside you. You felt it hook inside your pussy, slowly dragging out despite being clung to firmly by your insides. All the faster did he push it inside again, every joint that buried inside you made you arch your back and rejoice. You nearly avoided being scratched open inside, purely by how slick your pussy and his hand were by now, more fluids gushing out as he pulled his finger from you again and again.

Simultaneously, another digit curled down, fondling the heated folds until it pressed down on your clit, forcing a mewl from you. Fangs tore out of your skin, but you barely noticed as the two fingers united, taking up more space inside of you and scissoring your walls apart until you felt your pussy gaping and drooling obscenely.

"I'll not... submit," you stammered between bated breaths. "I'll not... be your plaything."

"And we wouldn't want it any other way," they chimed in unison, exchanging a satisfied glance before grinning.

"Mom always said to look out for the feisty ones."

"We just didn't think you'd come to meet us so soon."

"Or that you'd be this fun to play with."

Your whole body shuddered as both fingers were pulled out of your terribly needy hole. Your breath was almost non-existent, the lack of air only stimulating you more as you heard the sloppy sounds of your wet pussy letting go of the monster's fingers. A hand slipped beneath your head, helping you to hold it up as you watched the leaner brother lifting his pointer and middle finger to his face, split tongue lapping out to taste your slick pulling strings in the gaps while maintaining eye contact with you all throughout it.

"They're perfect," he purred as he looked up, stretching his arm towards his brother, who leaned forward to have his taste of you from his brother's fingers.

"Damn, that's sweet," he commented too on your fluids, licking them from his lips as he looked down at you in a mix of surprise and awe.

"And so pretty, too."

You felt their eyes in the same way their claws had raked over your body. Hungrily, with the intention to harm you. And yet, your hole kept gaping, needing more stimulation, wanting more. You were the pitiful prey you kept denying you were, but it seemed that in their eyes, you were so much more than that.

"Our little fighter," the one at your side murmured, stretching upwards to hover beside your face.

"Are you not even finishing what you started?" you spit, your venom not nearly as effective when your voice sounded as if you were drugged and disgruntled.

"Oh, I will, little fighter. We're going to make sure you can take us before spreading you on our cocks and make you cry out in pleasure until you call us "god". But before that, you have to be good and let us take you to our nest. Bonding will take so much time, and you are much too vulnerable out here."

"Fuck you," you grunted, trying to elbow him, but your arm barely moved.

"Keep it up," he grinned. "Wouldn't want you to give up too easily. Breaking you in is part of the fun."

"You're a fucking monster after all."

The snakes hummed thoughtfully as you were finally pulled off the table. Instead of being dragged by your arms or wrapped in their tail, however, you were slung over the bigger brother's shoulder, feeling his hand immediately settle beneath your asscheek, not so subtly poking at your pussy with his claw.

"Let me go!" you demanded weakly, your sore hands pounding pitifully into his shoulder.

"And miss out on all this fun? I don't think so," the leaner brother answered.

"Mother told us you can't go back anyway," the one carrying you added, throwing salt into the wound. They were right, but that didn't mean you'd go down so easily, even if your legs were still quivering and your head throbbing with need. "They'll kill you on sight, won't they? And then they'll return you to the altar so we can eat you."

A hand clasped around your jaw, claws digging into your cheeks as your head was lifted to face the leaner brother. "You know we prefer a different taste," he grinned, and you felt your anger rise again together with the shame of his implication. Collecting your saliva and some of the residues of the aphrodisiac, you spit them into his face, not caring whatsoever what that meant for you.

The snake-man scrunched up his face, quickly wiping it away. "Save your drool," he snarled, and you grinned victoriously despite the clasp he held your face in.

But as if on cue, a large palm flattened against your ass, and you jolted forward on the shoulder, eyes blown wide open as you gasped. You couldn't believe it as the wave of pleasure finally crashed into your rockfest resolution, your toes curling upwards and your eyes rolled back, your orgasm hitting you harder than even the slap had.

"Oh, god," you whispered breathlessly while riding the high of pleasure and shame as you felt your juices leaking even through your panties, dripping and running down the body of the other stronger brother.

"Seems like you finally get it, sacrifice," the guy in front of you noted, brushing his thumb over your lips, which opened automatically to his beckoning.

"Let's go, brother," he urged. "Seems our little fighter needs just a bit more convincing as to why they'll love being ours. I can't wait to make their belly swell with our clutch, just like Mother has always told us."

"We're lucky we found a mate so quickly," the other agreed, and you let out a defeated huff, no more words to counter them with coming to your dazed thoughts.

Their tail set into motion, scales slithering over stone, while your mind drifted off, the aphrodisiac having too much of a hold on your conscience for you to be rid of it quickly. You were going to be taken by the monsters, and if you thought you were helpless before, your body now barely felt like it belonged to you. It was as if you weren't its master anymore, but that drug and those snakes were. You could only shiver, even though the air was getting hotter the closer you three got to the volcano, wondering if you at least fulfilled your duty as a sacrifice.

And when that duty would finally end.

[w2sology]

DOING THE PRANK WHERE U PRETEND TO GET SOMETHING FROM THE BACK OF THE CAR BUT INTENTIONALLY SMACK YOUR S/O WITH HARRY PLEASE!!!!! would love if u included the comments at the end

cut it out, harry lewis.

summary: harry's been a bit sick of you hopping on tiktok trends, but this one leaves him a little more than baffled.

warnings: none

notes: this trend had me giggling so bad omg 😭😭😭 guys it's been ages (like a month but still) since i last wrote something writer's block was KILLING ME 😀 feel free to send in some prompts or reqs <3

harry had told you to get ready in the next half an hour, that you'd be going on a little date in central london. well, he didn't tell you, rather he sprung the idea up on you after you complained about being bored for the last two days.

it took a lot more than he thought it would've to convince you to leave the house, with harry going as far as telling you that he'd drive. that's how you knew he was being serious.

so as he was getting ready after you, you scrolled through the obsession of your life that was tiktok, laughing every so often and sending some to your friends who had yet to respond to the others that you sent.

stopping on one video that you couldn't stop giggling at, a thought formed in your mind. the tiktok was of a girl who wouldn't stop "accidentally" hotting her boyfriend whilst trying to get things out of the backseat of the car.

it had been ages since you last pulled a joke on harry, yet only the other day he pulled one on you with the help of the boys.

"are you ready yet or are you still laughing at your phone?" harry came back into the bedroom, pulling his navy blue nike hoodie over his shirt.

"i am ready, in fact," you got up, tiptoeing to gently grab a hold of his face, pressing your lips to his. "and the things on my phone will always be funnier than you."

"good joke," he smiled a false smile at you, squeezing your waist before grabbing the keys off of the dresser.

"i still can't believe you're driving. wait, pose with the keys, let me get a photo for your mum."

"don't get too used to this..."

harry walked out before you to put his shoes on, but seeing as you already had yours on, you asked him to unlock the car for you. to him, it seemed you were just eager to leave but really, you had to make sure that there were items in the backseat.

placing one of your tote bags in there, you evenly spread out one of the jellycats that you left in your car and another bag full of spare things. putting the camera at an angle that was able to capture both you and harry, you smiled giddily. soon enough, harry joined you in the driver's side, about to start the car.

"wait!" you called out. "i think i forgot something in the back."

"can't you get it whilst i drive? it's not me you forgot, right?"

"ha ha ha," you rolled your eyes. "no, i might rip it apart by accident."

harry shook his head, nonetheless not starting the car before he looked dead into your camera. he did wonder why you were recording, yet he never actually brought it up.

messing about in the back, deciding which item to use first, you decided on the jellycat.

it was an octopus, one that faith had got you from a trip in florida that she and ethan went to.

"here she is!" you smiled, pulling the jellycat back and purposely hitting it into harry. you did it gently, but not too gentle to the point where he didn't get irritated.

jumping as it made contact with his arm, harry frowned. "ow?" he said, looking at you, but you were too busy dusting off the jellycat.

"hm, actually no." you turned back around to put the stuffed animal back, this time reaching for the tote bag.

luckily, it didn't have anything too sharp in it, so you wouldn't actually hurt harry.

again, you pulled it back with enough force this time slightly jolt harry out of his relaxed position. "are you alright?" he asked, blinking at you.

"huh? what d'you mean?"

"you've just... full on wacked that into me?" he said, more so asked, in shock.

"did i?

"yes?!" you could've sworn you saw his eye twitch, having to restrain your laugh.

"oh," was all you mustered out, looking into the bag as if you actually needed something from it.

harry shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he waited for you to finish. "can we go now?"

"un, not yet actually," and you turned again to the backseat, this time grabbing the last bag.

pulling it back again, it hit harry in his arm, but this time he grabbed the bag from you, tossing it back in the backseat.

"harry! i needed that," you gasped, again to hide your laugh.

"no you didn't, y/n, unless you were using it to target me again" he mimicked your whiny voice.

you didn't know what had you more speechless, the mimicking or his reaction to your silly little prank.

"i wasn't targeting you..."

harry turned to you, giving you the most dead straight look ever. "cut it out, you hit me in the arm three times."

"maybe you were just too close to me."

"i— what?!"

you both stared at each other; harry with a look of shock and slight irritation and you with a serious look that you couldn't quite hold, bursting out in laughter soon after.

"oh my god!" you managed to say in between laughs. "you should see your face!"

"right, let it out. it's not that funny," harry shook his head at your state.

you leaned forward to grab your phone from where you left it, rewinding the last part where harry three the bag in the back. "oh, this is gold."

"you're a right wind up, you know that?" harry said, refusing to give you the satisfaction of know your trick worked on him.

"oh, i know," you smiled at him. "but you live me regardless."

"unfortunately."

"hey," you pushed a hand in his face, instantly groaning when you felt his tongue poke the same hand. "god, just drive."

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Sweet like chocolate

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 23

Prompt: Hot Chocolate

Rated: T

Tags: Post-Vecna; Vampire Eddie; Bloodbank Steve; Sexual Tension; Blood Drinking; Pining; Eddie has a crush on Steve

When Eddie walks into the living room, Steve is on the sofa with two mugs sitting on the table.

“Finally,” he says. “I thought they'd get cold before you moved your broody ass down here.”

Eddie grinds to a stop.

“What the fuck?” he finally mutters, inching closer like a wild animal smelling a trap. The scent that hits him makes his stomach give a violent, empty lurch. Sweet and creamy and heavy. “What's this?” 

“Hot chocolate,” Steve replies, picking up one mug to take a generous sip. The other one, he nudges towards Eddie. “You said you used to like it.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says slowly. “Used to. That's the problem, Steve.” 

He did. He used to love hot chocolate. The sweet, rich taste of it, the whipped cream and marshmallows on top. It used to be one of his favorite things in the world. 

And then he died. 

Which blows on so many levels, really. He can't go out in the sunlight, he's always freezing, and he must’ve given himself approximately two dozen accidental lip and tongue piercings before he figured out how to draw in the fucking fangs.

But the absolute worst part are his newly acquired dietary needs. 

So yeah. Maybe he's been a bit grouchy about it. Which probably isn't entirely fair to Steve.

After all, the guy has not only opened his home to him, offering him a place to lie low while the rest of the Party figure out this unfortunate situation. He's also been offering so much more.

“I thought we might try something,” Steve's voice tears him from his thoughts. When he pats the free spot next to him, the collar of his sweater slips, revealing the never-quite-fading bruise on his neck. “Sit?” 

Eddie does. He doesn't think Steve realizes how much he'd do, simply because he asked. Steve takes another long sip from his mug, then gestures for Eddie to take the other one. There's a thin film of whipped cream on his upper lip, and Eddie finds he needs to look away. 

“What are you trying to do?” he mutters at the little marshmallows in his cup. It's warm as he takes it and cradles it between his cold hands. His fingers never seem to get warm anymore. “Tease me? You know I can't drink this.” 

“I know,” Steve confirms. “But you can pretend.” 

Eddie wrinkles his brow at him. 

“You know how you told me that you can sort of … tell when I've had lots of sweet or spicy stuff to eat?” Steve asks. The bruise on his neck darkens as he blushes, just a little. “How the taste is different? I thought we could- … I know it’ll probably not be the same, but…” 

He trails off and averts his eyes, suddenly bashful, and that’s the exact moment it clicks into place for Eddie. 

“You want me to feed while you drink this? Like what, second-hand hot chocolate?” 

Steve snorts, blush darkening. “Yeah, nevermind, it was a stupid idea.”

He makes to get off the sofa, but Eddie holds him back with a hand around his wrist. He’s absurdly strong, these days, but he’s learning how to control it. 

“It’s not stupid,” he blurts before Steve can say anything else. “I… It might work, but …Are you sure?” 

Steve smiles. “Sure, why not? You feed from me all the time.” 

But not like this, Eddie wants to say. Not all soft and cozied up on the sofa, with the lights low and hazy, Steve's warmth bleeding into his own, cold skin. Not like it is anything other than a strict necessity. Not like it means anything. 

“Yeah,” he hears himself mutter. His body develops a mind of its own, inching towards that warmth, that thrum, as if pulled on an invisible string. “Yeah, you're right.” 

“Right,” Steve says. He, too, sounds just a little breathless. He takes another long gulp of his drink, throat bobbing, and Eddie feels his fangs slide out and saliva gather on his tongue, hunger coiling low in his stomach like a living thing. And then, Steve puts down his mug and leans back, baring that perfect long neck, and the hunger explodes into pure, primal want.

He's in Steve’s lap before he even knows he moved, fangs piercing the familiar spot. Steve's taste floods his senses, sweet and rich and heavy, and so, so addictive. He moans, and Steve’s pulse kicks against his lips. Steve has gone perfectly still - bar for the light hitch of his breath, the barely there stutter of his heart, the minute twitch of his fingers in Eddie’s hair, almost like he's trying to draw him closer. Almost like he's enjoying this. 

It's torment, forcing himself to pull back, but Eddie does it. For a few seconds, they sit and stare at each other, jagged breaths mingling in the space between them. 

“Good?” Steve asks. His pupils are large and fuzzy, his lips pick and lightly parted, still with traces of whipped cream clinging to them. Eddie wonders if his body would reject it if he licked it off. 

“Yeah,” Eddie whispers. “Yeah, great.” 

The mug is still in his hands, warmth seeping into his fingers, his arms, his blood. He leans in. 

And the walkie on the table crackles alive. 

“Steve? Eddie?” says Dustin’s voice. “Do you copy? We've got something you should see.” 

Eddie groans as Steve slips out from under him and stands. 

“Hey, don't pout,” Steve says, taking the walkie. “Maybe it's a lead on how to turn you back. Let's go check it out. I can make more hot chocolate once we get back.” 

Then, he's gone, talking to Dustin on the walkie while he runs off to get his car keys. Eddie stays on the sofa until he comes back and throws his jacket in his face.

For the first time in weeks, he isn't cold anymore. 

More holiday drabbles

[blushk1tten]

Ok, imagine you're a guest on Chuckle Sandwich, and the topic of Ted going to every MargaritaVille and the Rainforest Cafe comes up. Then, it turns to how you and Schlatt should go to every (whatever restaurant) in the country as a challenge. At first it was a joke, but then it slowly became something you and Schlatt started planning on. And during the trip, you guys starting getting closer and closer, knowing each other more and more. Where at the point you guys are flirting, touching, kissing, and even to the point you guys have sex.

I can even imagine that during one of the hotel rooms you guys were staying at, you accidentally see Schlatt full body naked. And seeing Schlatt absolutely embarrassed about it, you show Schlatt your naked body to make things even between you two.

i’m sorry this took so long but this prompt had me frothing at the mouth. i hope you enjoy <3

"no, because i loved when you went to every margaritaville and rainforest cafe," you explained to ted as you sat sandwiched between him and schlatt on their podcast. "i've had a similar idea for a while. i want to go to at least one cat cafe in every continental state, and along the way promote some shelters for people to adopt at."

ted raised his eyebrows curiously. "really? that sounds pretty cool. maybe you should take schlatt with you, since he's a lonely cat man and all."

"ignoring the fact that having two cats does not make me a lonely cat man," schlatt shot back at ted. "that sounds like a cool idea. i know there's plenty of cats like jambo and the other guy who need adopted."

you couldn't help but laugh a bit. "maybe ted's right. you sound pretty passionate about it for a totally not lonely cat man. you could come with me, and not be so lonely."

"fine!"

with that final word from schlatt, you had accidentally and officially locked yourself into the trip with him. he began to help you research cat cafes and shelters in every state, and helped you to plan the road trip map as well. that was only the start of the two of you getting closer. on the trip, it was a whole different thing.

"let's play twenty-one questions!" you suggested after leaving the cat cafe in austin, heading for your hotel and the next one in louisiana. after all, you had a roughly eight hour drive ahead of you.

schlatt scoffed, looking over at you. "isn't that a game for teenagers tryin' t' date someone?"

"no," you protested back. "it's for people to get to know each other better! i'll go first if you're going to be a dick. what's your favorite animal other than cats?"

he paused for a minute, then admitted his answer in a gruff voice. "bearded dragons. i used t’ have one when i was younger. he was a chill dude."

"see, that's nice, and i learned something new about you," you gave him a small smile. "now you ask me a question."

"are you a virgin?"

"schlatt! i'm not answering that."

the game continued to go similarly, with you asking genuine questions to get to know schlatt, while he asked raunchier questions to poke fun at you and get under your skin. about halfway through your journey though, you gave in, and began to answer him.

"what's your biggest turn on?"

"any kind of intimate touch."

he raised his eyebrows, surprised that he finally got an answer. "intimate touch? what does that mean?"

you could feel your face grow hot as you tried to explain. "any touch from a partner of mine, even if it's casual."

"even if they, like, shake your hand?"

that eased the tension, and you burst out into laughter as you shook your head. "okay, maybe not any touch."

with each leg of the trip, the two of you learned more about each other and grew closer. about halfway through the trip though, was when things began to heat up between the two of you. it wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to flirt or use pet names with the other.

“hey, toots,” he called to you, keeping his voice quiet so he didn’t startle the cats. “look at this one. i think it likes me.”

you couldn’t but giggle from your spot on the floor, where a gaggle of cats and kittens had been swarming you for affection. throughout your trip, you had come to find that most of the cats preferred you to schlatt. some found his large stature imposing, while others just didn’t like men, so it was a special moment whenever any cats would come up to him. this time, it was an old, graying tabby, purring loudly from its spot on schlatt’s lap.

“the first time you’ve ever gotten pussy in your life, big guy?” you teased, standing up and moving to sit beside him.

“oh, fuck you,” he scoffed softly, though he looked at you with a smile. “he just knows i’m the better person out of us. look, he’s not interested in you at all.”

it was true. the cat was completely content with schlatt and paying no attention to you. meanwhile, you couldn’t help but pay attention to schlatt. with a soft smile on his face as he scratched the cat’s chin and back, he looked endearing. dare you say it, he looked handsome. you couldn’t help it when you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

schlatt stopped petting the cat instantly, looking at you with surprise in his brown eyes. then, after a moment, he spoke up. “you missed.”

this time, you could feel the surprise on your face as he leaned in again and kissed you on your lips, soft and tender. it wasn’t until the cat on schlatt’s lap meowed in displeasure at the lack of pets that you broke apart.

“i’ll— i’ll edit that out.” you stammered, glancing at the various cameras you had set up while schlatt resumed petting the cat.

“yeah,” he nodded, a light blush on his cheeks. “that sounds good.”

from that point on, flirting and pet names came with the addition of kisses. sometimes they happened on camera in the cat cafes, while other times one of you would invite the other over to their hotel room for a heated makeout session. soon enough though, the trip was coming to an end. you only had a few more cat cafes left before the road trip was over. that would mean an end to the flirting, the pet names, and the kisses that managed to steal your breath each time.

you were thinking about it forlornly as you headed to schlatt’s hotel room, hoping for a nice makeout session to cheer you up. he had actually given you the extra key, so you didn’t think twice as you swiped the card and opened his door. however, you didn’t even make it a step in before you noticed schlatt, completely nude with his bath towel in hand.

“oh my god!” you exclaimed, catching his attention as well.

the last thing you saw before turning on your heel and slamming the door was a glimpse of something massive between his thighs, heat filling your face as you ran back to your own room. you had no idea how you would address that incident, nor did you know if you wanted to. the flirting, pet names, and kissing was one thing, but seeing him naked and anything beyond that was something else.

eventually, you heard the buzz of a keycard opening up your room, though you kept your gaze firmly on the floor as you sat at the end of your bed.

“doll,” schlatt spoke up after a moment. “i’m not mad at you or anything. i gave you a keycard t’ my room so you could come whenever you wanted. i should’ve changed in the bathroom or said somethin’ when i heard the door.”

you shook your head, hoping that any embarrassment on your face was gone as you looked up. “no, jay, it’s my fault. i should’ve knocked before coming in.”

he sat down next to you on the bed. “we both could’ve done stuff differently, but hey, shit happens.”

you nodded, the wheels in your brain turning. you wanted to make it up to him somehow. then, it hit you. the best— or possibly the worst— idea that you had ever had. “i could get naked and let you see to make up for it.”

schlatt went silent for a moment, staring at you as if you had just spoken another language. “what?”

“i’m serious,” you told him. “i got to see you, so you should get to see me. then, we’ll be even.”

his throat bobbed as he swallowed. then, he nodded. “well, toots, better get to it.”

with that, you stood up and began to strip, first pulling off your top, then tugging your shorts down. the whole time, you could feel your heart pounding. you’d gotten naked in the past for others, but something about doing it for schlatt, the same schlatt you’d been growing feelings for, felt different. still, you continued, taking off your bra and underwear as well until you were finally naked in front of him. schlatt’s first words were the same as yours.

“oh my god, doll,” he took a sharp breath as he looked you over, his eyes beginning to smolder with lust. “you look perfect. like everything i’ve imagined and more.”

you couldn’t help but blush, though you were a bit surprised as well. “what do you mean everything you’ve imagined?”

schlatt blinked, his lust fading in confusion. “doll, you have t’ know how much i want ya by now, i just— i didn’t want t’ make you uncomfortable, so i took what i could get.”

“what do you mean when you say you want me?”

“platonically, sexually, romantically. whatever i can get.”

it felt like a weight came off your shoulders when schlatt said that, and you couldn’t help but smile as you walked forward to sit on his lap. “what about all of the above?”

he nodded, then like so many other times, he leaned in to kiss you. this time though, it was different, full of a special kind of passion that came with knowing your feelings were reciprocated. of course, there was also the fact that you were completely naked in schlatt’s lap, his hands running over every inch of skin he could reach.

“jay,” you whined between kisses. “wanna fuck you.”

“fuck, hold on, doll. lemme get my clothes off and get you prepped.”

he didn't take long in stripping, allowing you to finally get a good look at his body. that included his long, thick cock, hanging heavy between his thighs and curving slightly to the left.

"how is that supposed to fit?" you mumbled quietly to yourself, though schlatt chuckled as he heard.

"don't worry, doll," he promised, moving down and pressing a kiss to your clit. "i'll make sure you're nice and wet f' me."

you couldn't help but gasp as he dived in, your fingers tangling in his hair as he ate your pussy like it was his last meal. his own fingers were busy playing with your clit, as he drank up the slick coming from your cunt. "jay!"

schlatt moved and pressed a kiss to your clit before pulling back with a grin, switching to sliding two fingers in your pussy. "c'mon, doll. we're just getting started,"

a high-pitched whine left your mouth, and your back arched as he began to search for the spot that would make you fall apart. it didn't take long either, his grin growing as you called out for him again. "there it is. that's my pretty girl, soakin' my fuckin' fingers. are you gonna cum, baby?"

you nodded, crying out as he began to suck your clit as well. it was your undoing, and you quickly reached your orgasm as he continued to pump his fingers. "i'm cumming, jay! i'm cumming!"

he pulled off and gently pulled his fingers out, face shining slightly with your slick. "good girl. did that feel okay?"

once again, you nodded, panting for breath. "felt amazing."

schlatt leaned in to kiss you, a string of slick connecting your lips as he pulled back. you both laughed, and he pulled back further to break it. "so, are you ready for the rest?"

"yes please," you murmured, him carefully getting into position over you. "just be gentle."

"i promise." he replied, leaning in again to give you a quick kiss before he pushed in.

despite how wet and open you felt, schlatt was big enough that it was a stretch. your nails dug into his back, and you couldn't stop the whimper that escaped you. "oh my god, oh my god—"

he stopped for a minute, looking down at you in concern. still, you could see how hard he was working to keep still. "you okay, doll?"

"just give me a minute. your dick is fucking massive."

the two of you stayed in silence, each trying not to move until you finally gave the go ahead. this time, as schlatt finished pushing in and began to move, you could feel pleasure starting to run up your spine.

"feeling better?" he grinned, his smug attitude beginning to return as the pleasure was clear on your face.

"mhm," you agreed, beginning to roll your hips in time with his thrusts. "feeling a lot better— fuck!"

he adjusted your position into a mating press, making it so you could hear the wet sounds of your pussy as he thrust in, and let out a groan. "fuck, doll. your pussy's so wet f' me. gonna pump you full of cum, get ya even more slick,"

you couldn't help but whimper, clenching around his cock at that statement and making him chuckle a bit. "you like that idea? me fillin' you up with all my cum, gettin' your tummy all round?"

"please," you begged with a sob, making him pick up his pace with another groan. "please breed me, jay!"

"shit, doll, is that it? you want me to make you a mama?"

you nodded, drunk with pleasure. "mhm, please, jay. need your cum so bad."

"you'll get it doll," he grunted, moving his hand down to your clit as well. "just give me a minute. want you to cum too."

sure enough, it didn't take much longer for schlatt's thrusts to grow sloppy and his breathing to grow ragged. "you ready, baby?"

"yes, jay," you moaned, back arching once again as you felt your orgasm building. "gonna cum!"

"then cum, doll. need you to cum so i can give you a baby." he grunted, fingers continuing to dexterously play with your clit.

that was all it took for you to peak, tumbling over the edge with a cry. you could feel yourself milking schlatt as you came, causing him to cum shortly after. you couldn't help but feel tears prick at your eyes from the full feeling. it was everything you could have dreamt of with schlatt and more.

he helped you clean up afterwards, gentle and caring, before snuggling with you in bed.

"so," he eventually murmured, playing with your hair. "we're going to keep this up for the rest of the trip, and even after, right?"

you smiled softly, cuddling closer to him and giving him a kiss. "i think we'll be doing this for a long time to come."

[ylangelegy]

unadulterated loathing! 🪄 mingyu x reader.

madame moribble's sorcery seminar has space for only two students this semester. you're forced to make a case for yourself with the one person you despise the most: kim mingyu.

★ shiz university students!mingyu x reader. ★ smau with some fic work. word count for the fic: 2,800~ ★ genre/warnings: alternate universe: modern shiz university, inspired by wicked, academic rivals, forced proximity, use of pet names, feelings realization/denial. cussing/name-calling in the spirit of bickering. this only draws from the setting of the wicked, so the given plot (i.e. wicked witch) doesn't exist here; prior knowledge of wicked is not necessary to understand the story. title is from what is this feeling. ★ footnotes: wrote this in one deranged sitting, but this is an early christmas gift for my favorite gyuldaengie, @maplegyu! 🎁 not quite the fiyero!mingyu agenda we have, but still in the same verse. ilysb. ♡

Mingyu has spent the better half of his years in Shiz going toe to toe with you.

It's to be expected, really. The two of you are the brightest of your age, tearing through your academics with ruthless precision. He always raises his hand in class. You can recite book passages word for word.

Both of you are hard to ignore, and neither of you are about to back down.

This application for the coveted Sorcery Seminar is yet another curveball that you two must navigate. You would think that after the disastrous Life Science group work in freshman year— or the Runes incident in sophomore year— that the higher-ups would know better than to force you and Mingyu into any sort of proximity.

But Madame Morrible seems intent on getting the last laugh, and Mingyu will go down swinging, if he must.

That doesn't mean he can't have a little fun, though. He shows up at the Quad at exactly five in the afternoon, making his leisurely way towards you. Everything about him is seemingly perfect. His pressed, navy blazer. His coifed dark hair.

Even the way he carries himself— practically swaggering to where you're waiting, less-than-amused— has people making way for him.

"Why the long face?" Mingyu asks sweetly in lieu of a greeting.

Your answer is curt, bordering cold. "Nothing."

Youch. "Ice queen," Mingyu mumbles under his breath as he settles onto the bench next to you.

You shoot him a glare. He flashes you a winning smile.

This was the nature of your 'relationship', or admitted lack thereof. It was a push-and-pull of Mingyu getting on your nerves every so often, of him testing how far he can draw it out before you crack.

You had your moments, though, where you could also drive him up the metaphorical wall. Like this afternoon, for instance.

You talk over him more than once. You shoot down every single idea he proposes. And you keep shifting restlessly— prompting your knee to bump into his, your elbow to hit his ribs.

When you accidentally step on the tips of his shoes in your animated, passionate denial of his nth concept, Mingyu has had just about enough.

His hand darts out until his fingers are wrapped around your wrist. Not to bruise or control, just to draw your attention to all your exaggerated movements.

"Could you stop that?" he hisses, his eyes flashing with annoyance. "I swear to the Wizard, I'm going to come out of this meeting battered and bruised."

You coo at him in retaliation, your voice sickly sweet. "Aw, what is it? Gyu-Gyu of Gillkins can't handle a little roughhousing?"

Oh, it's like that? Mingyu lets out a derisive huff before dropping your hand. You give him the small concession of scooting a bit further down the bench, putting some much-needed distance between the two of you.

Mingyu's not about to let your little jab slide, though. "You talk big game for someone who goes running in the other direction whenever there's a spider around," he says wryly.

Your response is defensive, sending the two of you shuttling down your typical back-and-forth. "That was one time! Might I remind you that you once thought river fairies were mayflies?"

"Bringing up stuff from freshman year, huh? I vaguely recall you mixing up Bunbury and Bunnybury for years—"

"You still can't cast a half-decent Alarte Ascendare charm—"

"And your voice cracks whenever you try to hit the high note in Dear Old Shiz—"

"Okay, enough!"

Mingyu presses his lips tight in a poor attempt to hide his smirk. Your expression is positively murderous, contorted in one of sheer annoyance.

No, annoyance is too light of a word, too generous of a feeling. Your flushed face and Mingyu's jackhammer pulse are not mere products of some petty vexation, some harmless flirtation.

It's unadulterated loathing. True, deep loathing; total detestation.

You loathe Mingyu, and Mingyu loathes you.

As you pull the plug on your short-lived brainstorming session, marching off towards your dormitory with a dramatic flourish, Mingyu can't help but revel in the feeling. He feels like he just ran a damn marathon, all from spending twenty minutes of bickering with you.

Odd as it may seem, Mingyu has never felt so alive.

Even though you don't say it, Mingyu knows you think his idea is good.

He can see it in your acquiescence, in the way you let him run his mouth just a little more. He wants to preen over getting this little upper-hand, no matter how insignificant it may be. The two of you are working on something he suggested.

You can call him all the nasty names in the book, but your begrudging acceptance is like a trophy to him.

It's why he's so cheery as the two of you reconvene to flesh out the project. You're benevolent enough to let Mingyu wax poetics about cursed objects being integral to Oz's landscape, though you keep him from rambling when he tries to position himself as the more brilliant one between the two of you.

"Don't get cocky," you warn as you lay out the material you'll be working on for the day.

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much," Mingyu shoots back, though he does give in and shut up for once. He's not about to push his luck. It's only half-time, after all, and he has a whole lot more of winning to do.

The two of you had agreed on flowers. For a moment, neither of you do anything about the assortment of blooms laid out on the desk in front of you. It takes Mingyu a beat too long to realize that you're looking up at him.

"What?" His free hand— the one not holding his practice wand— reaches up to his cheek. "Is there something on my face?"

The unamused glare you give him almost makes him chuckle.

"It was your idea," you point out. "So you start us off."

Ah. Mingyu knows you'll tear him a new one if he tells you the truth, which is that he didn't really think he'd get this far.

He was fully prepared for the two of you to disagree until the deadline, or to perhaps start groveling at Madame Morrible's feet for a new partner.

With this half-baked idea, though, the two of you are more likely to have to see this affair to completion.

"Right." Mingyu squares his shoulders, eyeing the flowers atop the table. "I suppose we could, er, start with some basic curses."

There's a Cheshire cat-like grin on your face that Mingyu doesn't like one bit. He steels himself for the blow, which inevitably lands in you saying, "You have no idea what we're supposed to do."

He scrunches up his nose in an expression of mock displeasure. "We're going to show off practical knowledge of enchantments," he rattles off. "Provide insight into the ethical implications of magical creations. Equip sorcerers with problem-solving skills necessitated by—"

You cut into Mingyu's tirade with a dismissive wave of your own wand.

"Blah, blah, blah," you drawl. "Ethics, insight, got it. But application? What about that, Kim?"

Mingyu has to bite back a curse from slipping past his lips. You're so infuriating. He wants to wipe that smug look off of your face, though he isn't exactly sure how he might go about that just yet.

"Maybe you want to contribute something," he grumbles, his lower lip jutting out in an almost-pout. "I already came up with the idea of the project, sweets."

Anyone else who might've been on the receiving end of Mingyu's pet names might have swooned. You always bristled, acting like he had uttered something vile.

Today, you remain perfectly unperturbed, content to have Mingyu squirm as you roll up the sleeves of your school blouse.

"Watch and weep," you say, your wand poised over the flowers.

There's nothing Mingyu hates more, really, than the reminder of just how good you are. The two of you were academic monsters to begin with, though you had your respective strengths and weaknesses. Mingyu excelled in theories; you dominated practice.

In some alternate universe, the two of you might have been an unstoppable duo. As it is, though, Mingyu can only hope that your fragile truce will hold long enough to secure you both that class slot.

He tries his darndest to keep his awe at bay as you mumble incantations. The curses you leave on the flowers seem to be mostly minor.

The daisy's leaves begin to flutter like propellers. The carnation starts to rapidly change colors. The rose goes through a constant process of wilting and rebirth, the dried petals pooling on the table with each cycle.

When Mingyu steals a glance at you, he notices the sweat beading your temples. Magic took a lot out of a person, and to cast three spells in a row was no joke.

"First, we should do a magical construction analysis." Your voice is a little tighter, a little more strained. Probably from the exhaustion. "And then a de-cursing process. Strategies and techniques for reversing or neutralizing the curse."

You go on to talk about how your demonstration for Madame Morrible should go— something about a live reversal or containment of a curse, and a detailed explanation of their findings— but Mingyu is only half-listening.

His eyes keep flitting to your quivering fingertips. His own hands twitch in his lap.

It's a sudden feeling. It's a new feeling.

Mingyu never thought he'd care for you, and yet here he is with his aborted attempt to reach out, to soothe, to comfort.

In between piles of schoolwork and preparations for the demonstration, Mingyu hardly has any time to notice the shifts in your relationship. You don't seem any the wiser, either, which is saying something. You tended to have a better emotional quotient than his overdramatic self, anyhow.

But there are shifts. Small changes in the day to day that are imperceptible to the less-discerning eye.

The two of you remain cutthroat in the classroom, drawing your peers' ire with your relentless rivalry. Behind closed doors, though, there's something more akin to… civility?

Mingyu wouldn't dare call it friendship. He's not that naive. He just knows there's an ounce of kindness, now. Some self-imposed restraint, some begrudging respect.

As the two of you move on to executing more complicated curses, the changing dynamic bears down in the most glaring ways.

"Enough."

The word comes out as a wheeze, but Mingyu injects it with just enough authority to have you pause. You don't look any better than he does. You're folded in half, your hands resting on your knees as you try to catch your breath.

The spell that neither of you could conjure just yet involved a hand mirror and an ancient curse. So far, all the two of you have managed is to make the mirror sing.

"Let's— take a break," Mingyu offers.

Your response is to be expected. "I don't need a break. I need to get this stupid curse right."

A muscle in Mingyu's jaw jumps. He stares down at you with a look of sheer incredulity, and you only return his glare with a defiant one of your own. Someplace else— with someone else— the electricity crackling between the two of you might have been sexual tension.

Alas, Mingyu knows it's nothing more than your shared animosity.

… Right?

He breaks the silence with a mumble of, "I need a break. Give me five minutes."

Honestly, Mingyu could keep going. He thinks he has it in him to try and cast the spell a couple more times, but he's willing to look weak if it means getting you to pause.

You don't even have a snappy retort or a smartass insult to his declaration. All you give is a jerky nod of your head before you lumber off towards the nearest chair in the otherwise-empty classroom. A peculiar expression flashes across Mingyu's face as he watches you walk, almost like every step that you take is an effort. You miss the look in favor of practically collapsing on to one of the desks.

"Wizard Almighty," Mingyu cusses lowly. He reaches your side in a couple of strides, though he pauses with his hand hovering over your shoulder.

At the last moment, he clenches his hand into a fist and draws back.

"Is this seminar class really worth dying for?" he muses, shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

"I'm not— dying," you choke out. "I just need— a—"

There's an edge of exasperation in Mingyu's tone. "You need a break. It's just me. You can admit that."

Before you can shoot back, Mingyu wanders off to his backpack. He digs through it for a moment before he can procure his water bottle, which he wordlessly places onto the desk you're on.

You give a quiet sound of appreciation before uncorking the bottle and taking a long swig. The rehydration seems to invigorate you in the slightest, enough for you to straighten to your full height. Mingyu holds back on teasing you over the way you've emptied his drink.

The first words you say after you've caught your breath are "It's because it's you."

Mingyu's eyebrows knit together in confusion. He tilts his head to one side, looking every bit like the confused puppy he's often likened to. "Pardon?"

"You said— I can admit that I need a break, because it's just you." You place Mingyu's water bottle down, your hands bracing the edge of the desk as you speak. You're looking up at Mingyu, but you're not quite looking at him. It's like your gaze is fixed on something just beyond his line of sight, and it hits him that you're avoiding his gaze.

You clarify, "I didn't want to admit that I needed a break to you."

His immediate reaction is to protest. To laugh and call you stupid, to question your faulty logic. But when Mingyu's lips part, the insult at the very tip of his tongue—

He finds that his words are just out of reach.

Because, for better or for worse, he understands where you're coming from. The two of you have exploited each other's weaknesses, have poked and prodded holes into each other's defenses. Why should this be any different?

There's an inexplicable twinge in Mingyu's chest. A tangible, physical tightening, over the spot where his heart is.

He had wanted it to be different. He doesn't know why, but he thought that this might make things different.

Instead, he manages to push out a heatless, "Right. That adds up."

Neither of you say anything for a while. The five-minute break stretches into seven, then ten. Right before the fifteen-minute mark, you say, "I think we should call it a day."

Mingyu— who has spent the past quarter of an hour trying to untangle his thoughts— jumps at the suggestion.

"Definitely," he says a little too enthusiastically. "Yeah, yeah. Let's… tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow. Same time?"

"Got it."

You gather your things and begin to make your way out of the classroom. Mingyu moves a little slower, not wanting to have to prolong any conversation if the two of you were to leave together.

He thinks he'll never have an answer to the question clanging in his mind until you pause halfway out of the door.

"Kim Mingyu."

He freezes in the middle of adjusting his bag strap over his shoulder. "Hm?" he hums, trying his best to act noncommittal even though his entire posture is already defensive in nature.

The sight of it seems to amuse you, because the ghost of a smile tugs at your lips. It's not a smile that you've ever given him. He's seen it in the corner of his eye, witnessed you dole it out to underclassmen and friends. And maybe he's always been a bit envious, a bit desperate to be on the receiving end of it.

Now that he is, he feels like he just got punched in the gut.

"Thank you," you say.

Plain, simple, unadorned. No explanation. It could be grace for the water. Grace for the break. Grace for the partnership. Mingyu doesn't know, doesn't care. He'll take what you have to give.

His mind tries to conjure the perfect response, one that might have you feeling the same way that he is. No problem or you're welcome or it's just me, sunshine.

What he eventually settles on is an exhale of "Always."

He wants to kick himself for it. Who the hell says 'always' to 'thank you'? a chiding voice screams in the back of his head. What does that even mean?!

He winces outwardly. Your smile widens slightly, just enough to throw him off balance once again.

And then you're gone, your footsteps echoing down Shiz' hall, leaving Mingyu with the answer.

Mingyu loathed you in theory, but in practice? Well.

He's so caught up in trying to unpack his realization that he nearly misses the quiet ping of his phone in his pocket.

[lets-try-some-writing]

I hope you don't mind, this isn't about Unicron and Earth but while you have inspiration I would like to take you up on that TFA prompts thing.

The Warframes prompt was most interesting to me. I like to believe that each of the younger members of Team Prime have some kind of Warframe coding;

Optimus is taller than the average Autobot Civilframe and stronger than he looks, he pulls his punches but still manages to be the best fighter the Academy has seen in eons. He has retractable claws, blunt and a little rusty from neglect. He also has quite the set of wild chompers, long, broad, semi-retractable fangs that can flex in his mouth like mandibles (think Chinese water deer), a set of broad tusks that poke out from his bottom lip, and the rest are all slightly sharper than average. He keeps his jaw transfigured to hide them away, making them appear more like just slightly more pronounced canines. This tends to cause aches and pains in his hands and jaw like arthritis and teething problems.

Prowl knows full well he's a Warframe. Those blue-tinted shades? If you look close enough, you might find purple eyes behind them, which of course are actually red. It's why he dodged the draft. Sure, he didn't wanna get caught up in the war, but he Definitely didn't wanna be found out as a Warframe and get decommissioned. It's part of why he's so reserved, Master Yoketron risked and lost his chassis protecting his secret.

Bulkhead is a Civilframe, but his spark says otherwise. He's massive compared to other Autobots, even taller ones like Optimus. His bulky frame, tendency to break things - even accidentally - and his occasionally short temper are compensation for his spark trying to manifest a proper frame transfiguration, but the protoform mold he was made from won't allow it. He sometimes has spark pains and aches from the strain.

And poor little Bumblebee. Also a "civilframe", but he didn't always look like that. He originally had door wings and antennae, but such features can be seen as "other" and "Warframe-like" to Autobots - after all, there are no Autobots who have wings, let alone fly. That's a Decepticon Trait - and he was often picked on for it. He eventually went and got a reformatting, but even then, it didn't stop the back-strut phantom pains from the lack of his door wings or the occasional migraines from the severed nubs of his old antennae beneath his horns.

And Ratchet? He's a Civilframe, through and through, emerged as one from the Well and would return to the Well in the same condition. But even then, while he doesn't have the weapons, coding, or spark of a Warframe, he sure as pit feels like one after the war. The longer he stayed with the Autobots, the more jaded and numb he became towards them. He watched as the once great faction he believed in fell to the same trappings as the Golden Age of Cybertron. This day and age? He could confidently say he's met Decepticons with more honor than most of the Autobots he knows. The Autobots were now more of a slightly more conniving and subtle lesser of two violent evils.

I want to see Ratchet coaxing the Warframe traits out of his - sparklings, younglings - team. He assures Prowl he won't tell a spark about his Warframe heritage, doctor-patient confidentiality, but he does insist that Prowl tells the others. He helps Bulkhead with his spark problems for the short term but knows he's going to have to get reformatted eventually into a proper frame for his spark or he might end up back in the Well of Allsparks earlier than he should. Bumblebee gets incredibly damaged during a fight that prompts Sari to use her key to save his life, which ultimately brings back his wings and antennae. He braces for jeering remarks and disgusted looks but instead finds comfort and care from his teammates in his recovery and learning to be himself again. (Bumblebee usually hangs out around Optimus more since, with his finials and Bee's antennae, they communicate much more easily this way.)

And when Ratchet finds out about Optimus' neglect of his claws and the strain he's putting on his jaw from keeping his fangs and tusks hidden away? Hoo boy. He practically forces Optimus to sit down with him and clean his claws of the rust and debris and sharpen them a bit for maintenance, he coaxes him into releasing his transformed jaw, letting it rest (unclench your jaw), and sets a strict maintenance regimen so it doesn't happen again. With the release of his fangs and claws and finally starting to relax, Optimus starts acting a little more... feral. Figuring something was wrong they looked into his coding to find active base coding. The others are concerned that his repression of his fangs and claws reactivated it or he had a bad sparkling-hood, but Ratchet reassures them that while those were valid concerns, bots with Warframe coding can sometimes have active base coding since their primary function was for war and needed the extra edge in battle, merely a holdover from his Warframe heritage. (Though he does start scouring the Autobot's files on Optimus just to be sure everything is ok back home.)

This brings the team closer together with these common traits. Optimus can relax more around his team-pack-family, and often engages in "sparring" (which is more often than not like play-fighting) expressing more of his feral traits - which Bumblebee has come to mimic. Prowl tells the others about his heritage as a Warframe and acts as the silent protector for the others (especially Bumblebee, though he would never admit it). They all have weekly "spa-sessions" for Bulkhead so he can relax and calm his spark, Prowl offers messages. And Bumblebee feels more at ease with the crew, outwardly expressing his emotions through his EM field and his wings and antennae, Optimus in particular responds to him more with his finials. He even let's out little mechanical buzzing-chittering noises that Sari points out are a lot like an organic bumblebee. All in all, they're all so much more happy and healthy, and Ratchet can't help but pat himself of the back.

Autobot High Command be damned, if they question why Ratchet allowed the other's undesirable coding to fester instead of eliminating it, he'll say he was doing his job as a Medic and looking out for the health of his team. And if Ultra Magnus himself has a problem with it, he can shove his Magnus Hammer right up his--!

(Anyway, if TFP Ultra Magnus and TFA Ultra Magnus met, it'd be On Sight. For TFA Magnus. TFP Magnus will not tolerate any slander of his Leader no matter what form he takes or universe he's from. I have a feeling that TFA OP would be adopted by the entirety of TFP Team Prime, and they would probably have to be held back from hunting down Ultra Magnus and Sentinel. TFA OP would probably put his foot down for Sentinel (old habits die hard, and despite being a dick, Optimus doesn't want Sentinel dead) but Ultra Magnus is free game. He did say he didn't have the programming to be a hero after all, why should he play hero and save his sorry aft now?)

Dude this is all brilliant. I don't think I can use ALL of it at once but I am going to roll with this prompt now thank you. Consider this a chapter 1 of sorts I suppose. Warframes au is in action!

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Two hundred... two hundred and eighty five... three hundred. All accounted for. Starscream had to do a few double takes with the frameless newsparks to ensure that their containers didn't hold more than one, a startlingly common occurrence with a few due to some less than optimally educated creators packing their bitlets up for transport incorrectly. Thankfully, all the frameless newsparks seemed to be in order. Their containers lined the walls and were perfectly locked in, with no room for possible breakage or loss of life. Some flared in greeting as he extended his field to encompass their containers. A particularly bright set of sparks flashed as Starscream neared, both already being familiar with his presence due to him having tended to them most often during the evacuation phase.

The leftmost was abnormally large for being but a spark, a fact Strika and her consort continually reveled in without end. The rightmost, by comparison, was small but powerful. As was to be expected by all that remained of Tarantulas. Both were so bright, not yet dulled by war. All Starscream could do was pause and touch the glass of their containers. Tarantulas had been so proud of his creation before he fell at Hydrax... At least the newspark would be taken care of far away from the war. Maybe when they were grown, they could connect to their creator through history.

Soon enough, Starscream sighed and turned away. His gaze shifted to the older ones, the newsparks who had long since graduated and advanced to the status of newbuilds, and in some cases, younglings. Most of them were strapped into their pods, ready to be put into stasis lock throughout the journey. The younger ones clutched trinkets from their creators, toys, charms, sometimes even a weapon or two. Only the oldest remained out of pods, standing firmly with pistols on their hips. They were the hopefully unneeded last line of defense, each youngling barely trained enough to qualify as guards and still far too small to be reasonably expected to perform.

The younglings tried to look stoic, going from newbuild to newbuild in order to calm their nervous sparks. But in their optics, Starscream saw fear. Terror for what was to come, of the separation that loomed ahead of them. He couldn't show it, but he dreaded it as well.

"Sir, when will we see our creators again?" One of the younglings, a gold and black model with bright red optics, stared up at him cautiously. The youngling clutched his pistol tightly, his terror poorly concealed. As much as Starscream wanted to reassure the youngling that all would be well, he couldn't make such promises, not with war raging around them and growing closer and closer to their borders. Instead, he dropped to a knee and tried to smile.

"Once Lord Megatron drives back the nasty Autobots, you and the rest will be brought back to New Kaon with all the speed the Decepticon Armada can muster." The youngling managed a weak half smile in return, holding his pistol a little looser. Starscream patted him on the helm, hoping that the action would comfort them both.

"Why don't you tell me your designation? That way, if I see your creators, I can give them a message for you." That seemed to cause the little one to perk up. The youngling smiled brightly, releasing his pistol entirely to grin.

"My creator is Barricade! He named me Prowl! If you see him, please tell him I'm going to become a spy just like him! And when I do, I'll come find him!" Starscream fought the urge to wince as he nodded and sent the youngling off. Prowl didn't need to know that the likelihood of reuniting with his creator was next to none if his line of work was as Megatron's optics and audials.

It was better this way. Better than the young live and old die in their defense.

Standing and turning his attention to the rest of the newsparks, he noted the youngest ones were safely held in their incubators along the walls, their small protoforms barely more than simple living metal. Making his way to their section of the transport, he took his time walking along to view each incubator. The newsparks within were of various sizes, a nod to their creators unique CNA. Few had color, still mostly protoform white. However, there were a handful that were already showing signs of their heritage, a fact Starscream smiled at. Thankfully, the newsparks weren't distressed. Most were deep in recharge, already preparing for stasis lock due to their young age.

It was a small mercy.

"There you are, Orion." A hint of mixed relief and grief settled in Starscream's spark as he pressed up close to the glass of one particular incubator. The newspark within squirmed upon seeing him, optics bright and flashing in his creation's version of a smile. Already Orion looked so much like Skyfire that it hurt. Red, blue, and white plating. Optics blazing a stunning crystalline hue like a cloudless sky. If one didn't know any better, it would be hard to call Orion a relative, much less his direct heir. But, the signs were still there. Small clawed digits, wing nubs that looked more suitable for speed than the heavy transport abilities of his other creator. Despite that, he was likely to look most like Skyfire, a fact Starscream cherished.

"You be good for your fosters. Don't bite them and don't give them too much snark, alright, starlight?" Orion cooed in response, his little vocalizer hardly formed enough to produce even basic sounds. Starscream knew it would be breaking code, but he was unable to fight the desire to hold his creation one last time before their separation. Hoping and praying no one was looking, he scooped Orion into his arms, letting the newspark rest firmly against his chassis to hear his spark once more. Instantly, Orion cuddled up against him, his small face pinched in the same way Skyfire always did when they cuddled.

"You are so soft sparked, Orion. But I see a warrior in you..." He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to the newspark's helm, enjoying the babble he got in return despite how much it ached. He'd already lost Skyfire. And now he was going to lose Orion as well... if only for a time.

"No matter what happens, remember that you are a seeker of Vos. Keep your honor. Fight for our people. And when this is all over, when we've won this war... you will inherit our ancestral home." He rocked Orion in his arms, fighting back the urge to run with Orion and never come back as grief assaulted him once more. It was too soon. Far too soon since Skyfire... but he couldn't risk it. None of them could.

The little ones had to be sent away.

"Once the Decepticons have retaken Cybertron, seekers will again rule the skies. And you, my hunter, will lead them." Orion chirped, curling up tightly against Starscream's chassis. A few alarms rang out around him, alerting Starscream to the fact that their time was almost up. He didn't want to leave, to let go of this and all he had. But what choice did he have? He couldn't risk Orion.

"Starscream, are the newsparks secure?" A harsh comm from Megatron finally snapped Starscream from his stupor. He laid Orion back in his incubator, steeling his spark as much as he could as the newspark stretched and curled up to recharge. Looking around once more, he gathered the strength to reply.

"Yes, my Lord. They are ready for launch." An affirmation greeted his response, to which Starscream swiftly took the chance to leave the shuttle before the urge to snatch Orion up became too strong. This was for the best.

This was for the best.

Right?

He tried his best to convince himself that his little mantra was right as he went about his work. But as deca-cycles ticked by, Starscream felt unease and even fear from his creation. It was to be expected considering their parting, but this was... strange. Orion was terrified far too often for his liking. His very spark told him something was wrong.

Unfortunately for him, his instincts were correct.

"My Lords... the Vengeful Spark has been captured by Autobot forces. By the time reinforcements arrived... all the newsparks were confirmed to be gone."

No. This couldn't be happening.

"What happened to them?" Megatron's booming voice rang out with a wrathful undertone that left even the bravest shaking. Starscream, however, barely heard him. White hot fury raged in every part of him as he listened, his grip on the war room table increasing to the point of damaging the surface.

"The Well of Allsparks stopped producing vorns ago. We believe that in light of this, they targeted the evacuation ship specifically to claim our newsparks as their own." Those fragging GLITCHES.

"THIS IS ABOMINABLE!"

"We must bring Cybertron DOWN."

"This cannot stand."

The cries of his fellow Decepticons echoed around him. But all Starscream could feel was the terror of his creation, the rage of having lost him and his conjunx, and the sheer wrath that boiled so hotly in his spark it threatened to explode.

They would pay. They would ALL pay.

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Being stranded on a foreign world with limited resources was never fun. Having an entire team of what amounted to three younglings and one semi-adult? That was even worse. The only saving grace was that each seemed to have enough common sense to not be wrapped up in all the propaganda nonsense. Ratchet's initial assessment of his newfound team was fairly simple.

Young, stupid, but not unsalvagable.

That assessment changed the instant he started getting them in for checkups.

"Optimus, who were your creators?" The Prime sat on the edge of the medical berth, shrugging as if he weren't a walking medical disaster. He smiled sheepishly, showing off the tips of fangs he had evidently tried hard to hide. His digits tapped the berth, small claws having been long since filed down but quickly growing back. A quick glance at his frame showed that he was far too lean for a ground unit. It wasn't something he noticed initially, but the Prime was abnormally top heavy, a trait usually found in flight or warframes. On top of that, his optics were unusually focused. Most civilian framed bots had full optical lenses that hid their inner workings. But warframes? Their optical glass was more transparent, allowing for them to focus on targets easier.

Optimus, on the surface, looked the part of the simple grounder. But any medic worth their shanix could take one scan and see he absolutely was NOT what he seemed. The constant twitching only added to Ratchet's suspicions.

"I don't know who my creators are. I was a refugee found orphaned after an attack down in Polyhex." What a bunch of slag. Any vet could tell that the Polyhex 'attack' was a coverup. Thinking back on it, there had been a sudden surge in newsparks following that event...

"Bumblebee, what about you? Who were your creators?" The yellow grounder flinched at being called out, a fact Ratchet noted with growing suspicion. Bumblebee was far more in line with traditional civilian blueprints when compared to Optimus, but getting a closer look at him revealed scars. Dozens of surgical scars of all things. He'd had parts removed, parts that Ratchet could swiftly assume were likely more warframe than civilian.

"Don't know! I'm with the Bossbot. I was one of the last wave that came from the Well." Bumblebee's plating shifted, and instinctual thing that would have once allowed a mech with wings to raise them. Ratchet sighed as he saw the motion. His statement was also a bunch of scrap. Ratchet had been one of the attending medics at the last wave and it had been long before Bumblebee or the rest were framed.

"Bulkhead. Same question." The largest of their group fiddled with his digits, unsure of how to answer. Scanning him like a hawk, Ratchet found no physical issues to add to his increasingly likely theory. But the gentle white glow of the bulky mech's optics told a story that fell in line with his teammates. Running a scan showed his spark signature was off the charts. His spark was far too powerful for the frame it was in. He had to be in pain. There was no way all that excess energy wasn't hurting him, especially since he wasn't bolting around twenty four seven.

He was in the wrong frame. That much was clear.

"Sorry Doc. I was also part of the last wave." Ratchet sighed, rubbing his face as he looked over the three near younglings in his care. Was he going senile? He highly doubted it. This... whatever this was... it was not beyond the Council. Especially if it was for the sake of their precious war.

"Give me a moment." Stepping out of the medical bay, Ratchet moved directly to Prowl's room. The ninja was the only one he hadn't had much of a chance to scan, and now he needed to be sure.

"Prowl!" He didn't even bother to knock before kicking open the door. The ninja didn't even twitch from where he was meditating. He simply hummed, getting up after a moment to address Ratchet as he caught his breath.

"I need to confirm something. Take off the visor." Prowl hesitated. Ratchet stared.

Prowl was, reportedly, also an orphan of Polyhex. If what Ratchet suspected was true, then he-

"I take it you've begun to put the pieces together." The visor came off without a fight, revealing blazing red optics that momentarily left Ratchet stunned in their brilliance. He stepped back, staring in sheer shock as it all came together in one disgusting picture.

Prowl was small, yes. But there was no denying the red, or the unnatural competence in battle. If he was like this... then the rest of the team-

"They don't know, but we are of the three hundred."

Oh.

Oh.

"I was one of the few old enough to remember. But I had to keep my mouth shut." Prowl stepped closer, meeting Ratchet's gaze calmly. It was impossible to move under the red of those optics.

"We are warframes, doctor. And for your information, I am just as surprised to find others like me as you are." Prowl maintained optic contact for a long moment. Ratchet had to run through the data a few more times before he simply groaned and tried hard to not try and bang his helm on the nearest wall.

He had Decepticon younglings to get properly framed and trained.

[pipedreame]

Ride AND Die AU

(Danny Phantom DanDash Prompt #1)

AU in which Dash has been part of the squad since third grade and goes into the portal with Danny (as a show of solidarity against Tucker and Sam’s annoying nagging) and they both come out half-dead. There are now TWO ghost boys running around Amity Park.

With a heaping load of angst: Danny for letting Dash go with him into one of his parents’ malfunctioning contraptions and Dash for accidentally tripping Danny and making the damned thing turn on in the first place and of course Sam and Tuck for egging them on and resulting in their two best friends dying and not to even mention the fact that Danny’s parents now want to hunt them both for sport and disect them in the name of science

But also a healthy load of fun and fluff: the boys learning how to use their powers together, increasingly absurd excuses to get out of classes/events to go fight ghosts, and a super fun and convenient mind and/or physical link caused by the two being in such close proximity during the accident (they were totally hugging, but who can blame them, really)

Sam: Guys I think the term is ‘Ride OR Die’ not ‘Ride AND Die’

Dash: Well maybe we’re just more serious about this friendship than you are, Manson

Danny: Yeah, Sam, we’re deadly serious. Get on our level

Tucker: I feel like two dead friends is enough actually

Dash: You’re right, two’s a party but three’s a crowd

Sam: What’s four, then?

Danny: A funeral procession

[actuallysaiyan]

For the prompt list can I get #30 with Tomura pls 🤭

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, Tomura is still a villain in this, hints at a sad ending| dividers: @adornedwithlight

Dating Tomura was…interesting to say the least. You knew he wasn’t a good guy, but he made you feel so many good emotions. The two of you bonded over the fact that you’re both orphans, and he even told you the story of how that happened. Despite him fearing you leaving him, it only made you feel worse for him.

As time went on, you noticed a change in the man you love. He was becoming more focused on his goal. He spent less time with you, which did make you worry that maybe he wasn’t in love with you anymore.

Then one night, he surprises you. It’s late and you’re in bed just scrolling on your phone to fill the void. He comes into your bedroom and flops on the bed, whining softly.

“Can I stay the night?” He asks, his voice tinged with sadness.

“Sure, baby. Stay with me.”

He snuggles with you, making you feel warm inside once more. Here you were thinking that this man had fallen out of love with you, but still he wanted to be so close to you.

His hands are so warm on your body. You know he does everything he can to make sure he doesn’t accidentally dust you, and you really appreciate it. You know that truly comes from a place of true love.

“Wanna fuck…” he whines again as he begins to grind against your ass.

It’s been a long time since you were intimate in that way. You dig in the bedside table for a condom, but you come up empty handed. Tomura continues to hump you, and you know you can’t even deny him. You need this as badly as he needs it.

He spreads your thighs, using just the tips of his fingers to tease your clit and hole. You whine as he lets two of his fingers push into you, opening you up just for him. He loves the way you look up at him like he strung the stars in the sky just for you.

“Look at you, so wet…”

He’s trying to stall because he knows he’ll cum quick when he finally gets to fuck you. And that comes with overstimulation on your part because he fingers you to completion at least two times before he finally undresses himself.

He grunts when he slides into you, your warmth and wetness enveloping him perfectly. Tomura leans in close, kissing you tenderly. He needs a moment to adjust and think clearly before he continues or else he’s going to cum. Then you begin to buck your hips and he’s whining.

“Stay still, don’t move your hips.” He begs you.

You reach up to gently caress his chest. “It’s okay if you cum quickly. I know there’s more than just one round in you.”

He collapses on top of you, kissing you as he begins to buck his hips fervently. Tomura feels like a wild animal in heat as he begins to fuck you, not caring if he reaches his high before he wants to. Because he has all night with you and he intends to make the best of it…

…since he doesn’t know when the next time he’ll see you is.