#I’m so tired. I’m so sad. do I really have to stay away from all serious discussions in the trans community

[silverb0wties]

Lemonade - Part 5

leah williamson x alessia russo x child!reader

Summary: When something bad happens to your Mummy and Daddy, you end up living with your Aunty Lessi and Aunty Leah.  But is there room for you considering they have a new baby on the way?

Chapter Summary: the aftermath of your concussion

Warnings: pregnancy, self-harm, disordered eating, bullying

a/n: sorry if this chapter is a little bit dark in parts. if you're still reading the series, thanks so much for sticking with me. I appreciate it more than you know.

|| Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 ||

PART 5

You woke up on a plastic bed in a room that smelled like the awful cream your Mummy would rub on her legs after Netball, surrounded by a million different kinds and colours of sellotape.

You could hear voices, and you looked over to the corner of the room to find your Aunty Leah consoling your Aunty Lessi as she cried.  She looked distraught, her eyes red and puffy with tears.

“I should have known it would overwhelm her.  I was just so excited to share this with her…”

“Babe, she’s going to be okay.  We’re still learning all this, yeah?”

“But we’re meant to protect her, and… and I- I…” Aunty Lessi choked on her words before Aunty Leah cut her off.

“And I should have had a tighter grip on her when I saw she was panicking.  Like I said, we’re both still learning how to do this.  The medics said she’s got a bit of a concussion, but she’ll be alright.  We know how concussions work, so we’ve just got to keep our eyes on her and make sure she gets lots and lots of rest.”

There was a quiet knock at the door, before an important looking lady with a clipboard came in.

“Less, sorry but we need to know if you’re going to play the second half or not?” she asked.

As your Aunties turned toward the door, they realised that you were awake.

“Oh Bunny, sweetie, you’re awake.  How are you feeling?” your Aunty Lessi rushed over to you, her hands coming down to gently cradle the sides of your head.

You looked up at her a bit stunned, rather confused about why you were where you were and why everyone seemed so upset.

“Does your head hurt?  Do you feel sick or dizzy at all?” she asked, her hand softly brushing through your hair.

You tried to think about if you felt sick or dizzy, but all you could really feel was a powerful throbbing rattling through your head.  You also felt really, really tired.  But you had just woken up, so that could perhaps explain that.  You don’t remember going to sleep though, which was starting to concern you.

“I feel okay,” you replied, trying to brush away your Aunty’s concern.

“Alessia, sorry, we need t-” the lady at the door began to ask again.

“I won’t be playing, sorry.  My family is more important right now,” Aunty Lessi told her.

“Less, you should go play.  I’ll stay with Bunny and make sure she’s-”

Your Aunty Lessi whipped around to face Aunty Leah. “No, Leah.  I’m not leaving her.  She’s hurt.   We’ll get a car to take us back to the training centre so we can go home early,” she insisted firmly.

Aunty Leah replied with a sad smile and a nod.  “I’ll go get our stuff packed up then, yeah?”

“I’m okay Aunty Lessi, you should play!” you tried to insist.

“No Bunny, there would be no point in me playing anyways.  I would be so distracted out there and worrying about you I would probably kick the ball into the wrong goal by mistake.”

By the time you finally got back home that night, your head was still pounding and you were struggling to stay awake.  You were trying your hardest to be big and brave and pretend like you were okay, but as soon as you stepped into bath, your whole façade fell apart.  As the warm water lapped at your tense muscles, which you now realised you’d been clenching in an effort to distract from the pain in your head, your resolve melted and you began to weep.

You brought your knees up to your chest and dropped your head forward, your hands entwining at the back of your head as your little body shook with each sob.  The tears and jagged breaths only intensified the pain in your head though, which in turn caused more tears and jagged breaths.  You tried your hardest to stay as quiet as possible, but you were aware that your cries were becoming increasingly vocal.

There was soon a soft knock at the door, followed by your Aunty Lessi’s voice.  Whilst making sure you still got clean and dressed, your Aunties had always tried to give you your privacy while bathing and dressing, which you appreciated.  They were your Aunties, but it still felt weird being undressed around people who weren’t your parents.

“Bunny?  Are you okay?” she called through the closed door.

“It hurts” you cried in response.

“What hurts honey?”

“Everything.  My head hurts most.”

“How about we give you some medicine to make it hurt less, yeah?”

“Okay.”

“And then we can get you to bed, and you can try and get some rest, alright?”

“Okay.”

There was a short pause.  You’d assumed your Aunty had gone away to get the medicine, but then you heard her voice again.

“Bun, you don’t always have to try and be big and brave y’know?  If you’re hurting, you can tell us.  Always.  I promise you won’t be in trouble or we won’t make fun of you or anything.  We just want you to feel okay.”

“Okay.”

You didn’t fully believe her.  You wanted to, but a part of you still believed that there was only so much love and affection to go around and you needed to space that out at least until Lemonade arrived.  You didn’t want to use it all up on this incident.

So you tried your hardest to push the pain down and away as you quickly washed yourself.  You managed to get yourself up and out of the bath and wrapped in a towel before there was a knock at the door again.

“You can come in,” you mumbled, making sure the towel was secured tightly under your arms.

Your Aunty Lessi entered with a little cup filled with pink medicine and a cup of water.  She kneeled down to your height as she offered it to you.

“Now it says strawberry flavoured on the bottle, so hopefully it won’t taste too bad.”

You gingerly took the cup and gulped the medicine down, wincing at the distinctly fake strawberry taste.  You quickly grabbed the cup of water from your Aunty’s other hand and skulled that down to wash away the lingering flavour.

“Good job, Bun.  Now let’s get you into your PJ’s and into bed, yeah?”

By the time you were under the covers, arms tightly wrapped around your beloved Arthur, the pain in your head had dulled to only a mild ache.

“Goodnight sweet girl” your Aunty Lessi whispered, kissing the top of your head.

“Night Aunty Lessi” you mumbled back.

It was the first time you slept through the night without waking up to a nightmare since the fire.

--

You woke up to the smell of Aunty Lessi’s lasagne wafting through the house.  However, as you opened your eyes and came to your senses, you immediately panicked. 

You were not in your own bed. 

You were in your Aunties bed.

You had no idea how you’d come to be in their bed.  The last thing you remembered you were lying on the floor in the loungeroom studying one of the books the Arsenal girls had given you about football.  You were trying to understand where all the different positions were on the pitch and what responsibilities each position had.  You had been figuring out the difference between a centre-back and a full-back when you had… fallen asleep.

Bad. Bad. Bad.

Whilst it had been a few days now since your accident and you’d had a couple of days off school and your head no longer hurt, you were still feeling extra extra tired from your concussion.  You’d spent most of that day at school trying to hide your yawns from your teacher and classmates.  When you’d been given some free time after finishing one of your activities ahead of the rest of the class, the same group of students that always seemed to catch you at your weakest had caught you dozing off in the corner of the room where you’d been reading.  They’d tied your shoelaces together and were starting to draw on your arm when you woke up.  You hadn’t realised they’d also put rolled up pieces of paper in your hair braid until your Aunty Leah pointed them out when she picked you up.

You’d tried to brush it off and said it was just a game all the kids were playing with each other, but the concerned frown your Aunty gave you implied she didn’t quite believe your lie.

“You know you can tell us if there’s anything going wrong at school, yeah?  If anyone’s picking on you or calling you names or anything?”

You just nodded.  There was no way you would ever tell your Aunties what was really happening at school.  You would just deal with it like a big girl.  Push through.  Be brave.  They had bigger things to worry about than some kids putting paper in your hair and saying mean things.  Your Aunty Leah was growing a human AND mending her busted knee for heaven’s sake!  You could deal with some silly paper in your hair.

When you’d got back to the house, you went straight to your room to undo your braid and pluck all the little pieces of paper from your hair.  You’d counted them (23 in total) before scrunching them up and throwing them in the little wastepaper basket beside your desk. 

As the paper hit the basket, a tiny ball of raging heat began bubbling in your chest.  You didn’t know what to do with it or how to describe it, but it made you want to stomp your feet and hit a wall and scratch at your skin.  You’d never been the best at describing emotions, but you were pretty certain this wasn’t sadness.  Perhaps, this was anger? Frustration? Disappointment? 

The tiny ball continued to bubble and grow as you lunged for your bed where Arthur lay.  You attempted desperately to use your tried and tested method of rubbing his ear against your cheek to calm the feeling, and whilst it felt nice, it did nothing to soothe your need to stomp or hit or scratch.

You searched your room urgently for something else to ease the searing heat in your chest, even gulping down the remnants of a cup of water on your bedside table.  But nothing worked.  You needed to stomp or hit or scratch.  You knew couldn’t stomp your feet or hit a wall, because that would be loud, and your Aunty would hear and come ask what was wrong.  So, you decided to scratch. 

You had to pick somewhere not too visible so that if you left a mark, nobody would see and ask what happened.  So, you tugged up the hem of your school dress and pushed down your tights and began scratching at the skin at the top of your right thigh.

The relief was instant. 

The second your nails dug into your flesh, the little ball of heat in your chest began to cool.  You scratched and scratched, and scratched some more until it finally, finally disappeared.  By the time you eventually stopped, your skin was stinging, and your fingers were cramping.  But the little ball of heat was gone, and that was all that mattered.

There was a gentle knock on the door as you speedily pulled your tights back up, wincing as they brushed against your newly tender skin.

Your Aunty Leah popped her head in through the door, “Bun, do you want a snack? I got some blueberry muffins from the bakery…”

“Oh… um, yeah, I’ll be right down, just getting that paper out of my hair,” you mumbled, quickly running your fingers through the ends of your messy blonde mane.

“Alright, I’ll pop them in the microwave to warm them up,” she replied before heading back downstairs to do so.

As you heard her footsteps fade away, you turned around and pulled your tights down again, trying with all your might not to release a pained noise as the fabric ripped away from your newly raw skin.  The area you’d scratched was an angry red colour and the skin seemed wet, but there was no blood, which whilst a relief, made no sense to you.

Not wanting to keep your Aunty waiting, you hastily pulled your tights the rest of the way off and threw them in your laundry hamper.  The house was warm enough, but you decided to grab your soft little blanket that had purple and grey clouds, as well as the book on football you had been reading and the little notebook you’d been making notes in (and Arthur of course), and head downstairs.

“Perfect timing Bun, just took them out of the microwave.  Do you want a drink?”

“I’m okay.  Thank you, Aunty Leah, this looks lovely” you replied, climbing up onto a stool in front of the kitchen bench where a little plate with a yummy looking blueberry muffin sat.

“Well, we all know the kitchen is Aunty Lessi’s domain.  That woman can cook like a dream!  But I’m not too shabby at picking out a good pastry.  I guess you could say bread and bread-adjacent foods are my domain,” she teased.

You giggled as you tucked into your muffin, appreciating your Aunty Leah’s silly jokes about how bad at cooking she was and how limited the range of foods she ate was.  Your extended family often seemed to tease her a bit about being a picky eater and she would usually laugh it off or join in on the joke.  But you knew it was something she was actually a bit self-conscious about. 

A few days into your stay here you’d gone to the fridge to grab some milk for your cereal and had accidentally knocked a container off a shelf.  As you bent down to pick it up, you noticed a little letter stuck to the lid that read “Leah, my love, it’s okay if you can’t eat this.  I know you tried and I’m proud of you.  Please just make sure you eat something or at least have a protein smoothie.  For you and for ‘L’.  Love you – xx Less.”  You’d immediately felt guilty for reading it as you rushed to put it back on the shelf, knowing you’d intruded on a bit of your Auntie’s privacy.  You’d seen a few similar little notes stuck to containers since then.  At the time you’d been very confused about what “for you and for ‘L’” meant, but you had since figured out it meant ‘for you and for Lemonade’. 

When you finished your muffin, you wriggled off the stool and headed over to place your plate in the dishwasher.

“Are you done with your plate too, Aunty Leah?” you offered.

“Oh, thanks sweetie, you didn’t have to do that,” she replied as she passed you her plate with a smile.  “Feel free to watch something on the telly if you want.  I’ve got a bit of boring adult housework stuff to catch up on before Aunty Lessi gets home.”

“Is there anything you need help with?” you asked.

“No, no.  I’ve just got to do a couple of loads of laundry and there’s no way I would make you deal with Aunty Lessi’s gross smelly training socks!  It’s bad enough poor little Lemonade is stuck with me and can’t escape from it,” she laughed, jokingly shielding her belly from the smell.

“Is it okay if I just read in the loungeroom?” you asked.

“Of course it is!  Just remember if your head starts to hurt or you’re feeling too tired or anything, to have a rest, yeah?” she smiled at you, stroking her fingers affectionately through your hair.

“I will, thank you.”

So, you made yourself comfortable in a little spot on the loungeroom floor, surrounded by a couple of cushions, the blanket you’d brought down from your room and, of course, Arthur.  Soon you were laying on your belly, nose deep in the book and jotting down notes in your notebook all about what a penalty shootout was and what circumstances led to one.  You drew a little picture of the goal and the line markings and where the goalie had to stand and where the other players had to stand, before turning back to the book to read about in-game penalties when slowly but suddenly you… were… asleep.

The next thing you knew you were waking up in your Auntie’s bed to the smell of your Aunty Lessi’s lasagna.

The realisation hit you like a hundred bolts of lightning.

You’d slept in someone else bed.

Bad. Bad. Bad.

Bad things happen when you sleep in someone else’s bed.

The last time you’d slept in someone else’s bed, your house burned down, and your Mummy and Daddy had died.

You jumped out of the bed as though it was burning you, panic rattling all through your little body.

“Bad. Bad. Bad.”

Your right hand began hitting at the side of your head before you even knew it was happening.

“Bad. Bad. Bad.”

Your other hand clawed at the skin of your neck, scratching determinedly at the tender skin there.

“Bad! Bad! Bad!”

You tried so hard to stop them, but your feet began to stomp loudly, your whole body seemingly moving with a mind of its own.  Everything around you seemed like it was spinning.  You thought you could smell smoke and when your eyes began to water you weren’t sure if it was because you were crying or if it was because there was actually smoke. 

You vaguely heard a commotion and saw the door swing open, but everything around you continued to spin making you feel like throwing up.  You couldn’t throw up in your Auntie’s bedroom!

“Bad! Bad! Bad!”

“Bunny?  Sweetie, what’s going on?”

You could hear your Aunty Lessi’s voice and feel her presence, but the only word you could think was ‘BAD’.

“Bad! Bad! Bad!”

The word kept falling from your lips and you continued to stomp and hit and scratch.

“Okay, Bun.  I’m going pick you up so you stop hurting yourself sweetie.  I need to make you nice and safe, alright?”

Again, you heard your Aunty but all you could think was ‘BAD’.

“Bad! Bad! Bad!”

Carefully you felt your Aunty wrap her arms around you, trapping your arms and lifting you off the ground.  You struggled as your body fought to keep hitting and scratching and stomping, but she gently tugged your hands away from your neck and head, tucking them tightly against her chest.

“You’re okay, lovely.  You’re safe, I promise.  It’s just you, me and Aunty Leah here okay.  Nothing bad is going to happen alright?  We’re safe.  You’re safe.  Everything’s okay…”

“Bad. Bad. Bad.”

“What do you mean by bad, Bun?” Aunty Lessi asked.

You shook your head, unable to explain yourself.  All you could say was “bad.”

“Oh sweetie, you haven’t done anything bad.  You’re not in any kind of trouble.  I promise.  And nothing bad is going to happen either, okay?” she whispered.

You began to slowly unclench in her arms, comforted by the soothing way she was swaying gently.  Eventually you opened your eyes to see your Aunty Leah standing in the doorway watching on, her face red and blotchy as though she’d been crying.

You immediately came back into your body, realising whatever you’d just done had upset your Aunty Leah.  You tried to wriggle slightly to free yourself from your Aunty Lessi’s grip, but she tightened her hold.

“Not yet sweetie.  I need to what’s going on?  What happened?” she asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed with you in her lap.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.  I didn’t mean to be bad and upset Aunty Leah.  I’m so sorry.  I promise I’ll be good.  I promise.”

“Darling, you didn’t upset me” your Aunty Leah assured you as she came over to sit next to Aunty Lessi on the bed.

“But your face is blotchy like you’ve been crying” you replied, your Aunty Lessi finally loosening her grip on her as your reached toward Aunty Leah.

“Well, it’s because I have been, but it’s not because you upset me.  I’m just worried about you is all.  Why were you hurting yourself?” she asked, taking your hand in hers.

“I just had to.  I don’t know.  I just did.  I was bad.”  You jumped off Aunty Lessi’s lap and started pacing on the floor in front of her and Aunty Leah.   “I woke up in this bed and I had no idea why I was in your bed and all I could think was ‘bad’ and I just did it without realising.”

“I washed your sheets and they’re in the dryer.  So, when you fell asleep on the loungeroom floor, I just put you in here for your nap.  I didn’t mean for it to upset you so much, sweetie,” Aunty Leah explained, tears still rolling down her cheeks.

“You didn’t upset me, I just I don’t want you and Aunty Lessi and Lemonade to die too!”

You heard your Aunties gasp at your explanation, but you just kept pacing, trying to figure out a way to stop the inevitable from happening.

“Bunny, oh my goodness, why would Aunty Leah and Lemonade and I die because you had a nap in our bed?”

“Because that’s what happened when I slept in Mummy and Daddy’s bed!”

You watched as your Aunties exchanged a series of looks.  The seemed confused and shocked, which was confusing and shocking to you, because it all seemed so obvious.

“Darling, your Mummy and Daddy didn’t die because you slept in their bed,” Aunty Leah tried to tell you.

“Yes, they did!  They did.  They DID!  I know they did!  It’s the only thing different I did that night from all the other nights.  I had done so so good all summer getting into my big girl routine and kept it up really well for the first couple of weeks of school.  But then… then I slipped up, and I was bad and I asked to sleep in bed with Mummy and Daddy that night.  And and th- the fire happened.  And if I had of been in my own room, I could have got myself out.  Because we’d practiced.  Daddy made sure we practiced.  And and and then… then Da-Daddy wouldn’t have needed to get me out and he could have helped Mummy because of her leg.  And they could have got out too.  But I was bad.  I slept in a bed that wasn’t mine.  When I should have just slept in my own bed, like a good girl.  Like a big girl.  And now they’re dead.  They’re both dead.  And it’s my fault.  And now what if you die too!?”

[trans-androgyne]

I know I always ask this. But do you know anyone who posts about transfemininity/transmisogyny but doesn’t shit on the word transandrophobia and trans men/mascs? I’ll even take a tme/tma user at this point. Just, please.

[cloneboywonder]

I’m so sleepy but I love talking I’m sorry here’s my car ghast btw

[gurugirl]

The Babysitter | dad!harry x babysitter!reader

Based on this request (changed some things - hope you still like it anon!)

Summary: The cute babysitter Harry's wife hired has always tempted him, but now that his wife is away for the evening Harry might just give in.

Word Count: 2,011

Warning: smut, cheating, implied age gap (your call on how large), inappropriate relationship (both consenting adults)

|main masterlist|

. . .

Harry was so fucked.

He knew better. A married man on the brink of ruining it all just for a taste of his kid’s babysitter. Truly, outrageously fucked.

He arrived home that day, knowing he’d have the house to himself all night with his wife gone out of town for a work trip. Knowing the cute babysitter would still be there, all doe-eyed and shy smiles. She definitely had a crush on him and he couldn’t stop thinking about that.

All day at work he went back and forth with the idea of it. The whole ‘fuck around and find out’ thing was more compelling when he might be able to get away with it. But it wouldn’t be worth it, he told himself even though he continued imagining what she’d feel like underneath him.

His actions completely contradicted that sound internal advice.

Because when he saw Y/n all cuddled up on his couch, a sweater draped over her shoulders and her bare legs stretched out long he allowed himself to stare for a moment. He shouldn’t have been thinking what he was but he couldn’t stop the blood rushing to his cock. He was going straight to hell for the kind of thoughts that were running through his head right then.

She slowly blinked her eyes opened and sat up with a sweet smile, “Hi. How was work?”

God, the cute, bubbly personality on her, even after just waking up from a nap… She hadn’t been tainted by years of grueling workplace drama and a sad and lonely marriage like he had and he found it refreshing.

“Was good. Uh,” he scratched the back of his neck, keeping his eyes on hers, “Everything go all right today here?”

She nodded and moved her legs off the couch, feet hitting the floor as she nodded, “He’s the sweetest. It was a good day. He kept asking for mom so I think he’s upset that she wasn’t here this morning but I told him she’d be back tomorrow night. Fast asleep now.”

But there was something in the way she was looking at him. Like she was just waiting for him to pounce. Rounded eyes, with that shy smile as she bit the edge of her bottom lip. Like she knew what he was thinking, her own mind filled with the same filthy scenarios.

It was late. Harry always got home late on Thursdays. After dark. After his son was already asleep, and usually it was his wife greeting him.

She parted her lips as she let her gaze lower to just below the buckle on his pants and then back up to his eyes.

“Yeah. We’ll be okay without her for a night,” Harry swallowed thickly as he sat his briefcase down and moved deeper into the living room next to the couch where Y/n was still seated. “What about you?”

“What about me?” She raised her brows as she craned her head to look up at him.

“I mean… you alright too? Still seated like you’re tired. You can stay if you want.”

She blinked her eyes and then did it again, letting her pupils connect with the space at his crotch before quickly bringing them back upward to his face, “Oh… I can go. I’m sorry…”

Y/n stood up quickly but Harry caught her by her arm, “It’s okay. You don’t have to go. I just wanted to make sure you’re alright. Was really helpful having you stay late tonight.”

If she kept looking at him like that, those fuck-me eyes and plush parted lips, he wasn’t going to be able to stop himself.

“Oh. I’m glad. Was happy to help you out, Harry. I’d do it as often as you needed me to.”

He grinned and watched her moisten her soft lips when she poked her tongue out and looked up at him through her lashes. If she wasn’t begging for it he didn’t know what this was.

“You gonna stay?”

She nodded, still looking up at him as she tucked her bottom lip into her mouth.

In a moment of weakness, of sheer insanity, he raised his hand up to her face and thumbed at her bottom lip, “What’s going on, Y/n? You got something to tell me?”

She fluttered her lashes and leaned into his touch as she kept her pupils aimed right at him. But then her lips parted again and Harry found himself sliding the tip of his thumb between her lips before she wrapped her mouth around it and he felt her tongue gently lave against his pad.

Now he was the one with parted lips as he watched his kid’s babysitter suck his thumb into her mouth, eyes pinned to his still.

And before he knew it, he found himself fucked in the figurative and literal sense as he had her face down on his mattress with his cock nudged into her so deep she was keening and hissing at the bite of pain his fat length was causing.

“Shhh… be a good girl and keep quiet, yeah?”

“Mmmm!”

It was so good. It was so fucking good. He hadn’t been laid in a couple of months and the babysitter’s pussy was better than he imagined it would be. She was wet for him right away. When he got her very short shorts off her legs and buried his face between her soft thighs she was already so sensitive and dripping, wiggling and moaning like she was just as pent up as he’d been. Like she wanted it just as bad. She’d made a big mess of him and the sheets but he’d deal with clean up later.

Because when he finally pushed his throbbing dick inside of her welcoming pussy it was game over. He had her hips in both hands, tightly gripping the meat at her sides as he buried in over and over again, letting her juice coat every inch and wet his pubes with her fragrance. He watched as he stuffed her with his cock, her cute ass perked upward and she pushed back on every one of his thrusts. So pretty.

Everything was slick and gushy as he plowed into her guts, slapping his hips into her ass. He kept looking at the bedroom door (which was closed and locked) out of habit just in case, but now he was out of his mind as she trembled and drooled against the pillow his wife used.

He slowed his plunges and watched his shaft as he pulled out, “Fuck… got me all creamy, baby. Why don’t you flip over so I can see your pretty face?”

She was shaky as she dropped down to the bed, scooting herself to adjust and then spreading her thighs as he tucked right back inside of her, pelvis dipping against her own.

“Harry…” Y/n quietly breathed as she watched him. He was so thick and long, just like she knew he’d be. She never thought he’d ever step out on his wife but here he was, with his big cock driving into her, making her squelch and stretch wide for him. She almost couldn’t believe it was happening.

Harry groped at her tit, still on his knees as he steadied himself, his thighs working in, “Oh sweet girl…” he panted, quads and glutes flexing with every motion. He picked up her hand and brought her fingertips to his mouth, kissing as he pumped himself through her walls and then dragging his lips down to her palm and then wrist.

“Oh my god…” she whined before draping her arm over her mouth to keep her volume down.

“Who knew you were so filthy? Look at you letting a married man fuck your brains out.”

A muffled moan sounded from her throat as she felt him jerk into her harder, the coarse hair at the base of his dick scratched at her clit before he began to grind his hips against her, adding friction like he knew that was what she was searching for with her hips rising to meet him with every thrust.

“But look at how lucky I am. So pretty… Hot little pussy, fuckin’ drenched, baby. How long were thinking about this, hmm?”

Harry did feel lucky too. Y/n was a hot little thing that he’d had some pretty dirty thoughts about since they first hired her. It was his wife’s choice. Y/n was in her senior year of university with long smooth legs and an adorable shy smile that caught him off guard the first time he saw her. So he always looked forward to seeing her every morning before leaving for work, or in the early evenings when he’d come home to relieve her.

Harry grabbed her other hand, moving her arm from her mouth as he brought those fingers up to his lips to kiss every one of them as he threaded their fingers together on her other hand, never stopping the movement of his hips.

With the back of her hand pressed into the blanket next to her shoulder, she inhaled sharply, trying to catch her breath. “Since I first met you…” she admitted.

Harry grunted, running his tongue along her wrist before folding his fingers into hers like her other hand and then pressing it down to the bed as he leaned over her, pelvis grinding against hers, his balls squeezing against her bum. And that was fucking deep.

“Oh yeah? Fuck, coulda been fucking this pretty pussy for the last few months. Making you come for being such a good girl and just for looking so fucking cute all the time.”

She moaned softly, “It feels so good…”

Harry grinned down at her, feeling her start to squeeze and pulse, “It does doesn’t it? Such a bad thing to feel this good. Might be trouble for us.”

“Mmmm…” she panted and then gasped as she was thrown over the edge, walls gripping and milking his cock.

Harry watched Y/n as she fell apart, “There you go, such a good girl, so pretty, baby…”

Harry gritted his teeth as he fucked her through her orgasm.

He was already leaking precome and practically shaking by the time he pulled himself out and pumped his fat cock right over her tummy. He’d have loved to have just come inside Y/n’s pussy but what he was doing was already dumb as it was.

He grunted and sucked in through his teeth, “Oh fuck…”

He’d gotten a little come on his knuckles as he ran his fist down his shaft, letting the last bits drip out onto the girl below him. A pretty sight. She was all fucked out and dazed, tits rising and falling with every breath, his come marking her tummy and her pussy freshly fucked, still soaked.

He was a gentleman, helped her clean up, and kissed her a little bit more before sending her on her way with a playful swat to her ass. He’d have loved to ask her to stay all night but he worried that that would just confuse things further. She promised she wouldn’t tell anyone and Harry said it wouldn’t affect her job and that it would be their secret. Though he did hope he’d have another chance to feel her again one day, he didn’t count on it. His wife was returning the following day and Y/n was soon to finish off her last year of college and she wouldn’t be needing a babysitting gig anymore.

Did he regret cheating on his wife? In that moment, he couldn’t say he did. He had fun and it felt so good to have sex with someone who wanted his cock as bad as Y/n did. He only hoped he didn’t get found out and as long as Y/n kept up her end of the bargain (he was sure she would) he figured the whole thing was a win.

He’d just need to keep himself in check around her when his wife was present. But when his wife wasn’t around he couldn’t promise anything.

. . .

PART 2

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[loganbcrnes]

Mine

Logan Howlett/Wolverine x female!reader

Tags/Warnings: Smut, Fluff and Smut, Rough Sex, Dom/sub, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alpha Logan (X-Men), Feral Behavior, Rut Sex, mention of frank castle, Explicit Sexual Content, Breeding, Impregnation, Marking, Blow Jobs, Logan has a big cock, and hes very hairy yes, Reader-Insert Authors note: originally posted this on my ao3, but decided to just upload the full one-shot here as well. link. Not beta'ed and no description of reader Summary: Logan unexpectedly goes into rut and you're there to help him through it.

You had no idea what you were anticipating when Logan came home from work. Before he left in the morning, he was acting stranger than normal. His temper was short, his motions were labored, and he wasn’t himself. His scent was also stronger than normal. It didn’t take you long to realize something was wrong, the bond felt stronger between you two like it was during the war and before you even began to make lunch, you received a text from your Logan.

Logan: I don’t want you to be alarmed, but I think I’m in rut.

This caught you by surprise. Most alphas these days didn’t get ruts and omegas didn’t get heats either. Just like they’re becoming rarer as time goes by. it’s sad really, back before the war, before Hydra - you were able to go into heat. You always spent it alone back in the 30s, you even got time off from your part-time job as a nurse when you were temporarily staying in Ireland. Logan could go into ruts too before Project X. during the war you both would help each other out, which led to you both bonding until the train mission fucked all of that up.

But now it’s 2021, over 70 years have gone by and 3 years since The Snap. You are forever thankful that both you and Logan survived it. You don’t know what you would have done if your beloved alpha was taken away from you once again. Since then you both decided to get a nice cabin in the mountains to get away from everything. You both were done fighting, tired of constantly losing people you loved. 

Logan got a job in construction in town about an hour away. So he didn’t usually come home until around 6 pm. You were thankful when you got the news that Frank Castle and his pack of alphas were moving a few miles away from your cabin a few months ago. You know it can get isolated in this area, so to have friends that you consider family to come and visit was nice.

There was no time to think about the next course of action though, it was clear what you had to do and something you thought you wouldn’t ever do again. Logan would be back in about half an hour, which gave you time to set up the room and go for a nice shower. 

You immediately went into one of the cupboards in your walk-in wardrobe for blankets. Logan didn’t necessarily like making nests, he always said and his quote: “ya’ don’t need to make those things no more lady, you use your alpha.” in his deep gruff tone. So you resorted to cuddling at least 2 times a day instead and he would fuck you into the mattress just how like it every time. 

Once you got a mattress onto the floor with a ton of blankets and pillows littered onto it, you went into the bathroom and stripped down. You cleaned up and once you were done, you slipped on a white silky nightie that reached down to your thighs. After that you got some nice cold water bottles to put beside the nest. As you were done you heard the door click open.

Logan could smell you before he even got out of his truck. His heightened senses were even more sensitive and he could smell just how wet you already were. All he could think about was knot, breed, mate- over and over as he got closer to the door.

It was rather embarrassing when he started to sweat and get a hard-on on his lunch break. He didn’t understand at first, but then recognized the symptoms to be a rut. Thankfully Frank was there to get him to leave, but damn did that hurt his ego a little.

Once he entered he was hit again with your strong scent. It was so sweet, sweeter than usual that he was beginning to think that maybe his rut could trigger your heat. He sure hoped so. Your scent was a mixture of roses and strawberries, he used to hate strawberries before he met you, but now it’s one of his favourite fruits.

You looked up from your iPad as Logan walked in and put down his backpack. “Hey,” you said as you got up, but were cut off by a squeak when he immediately jumped you. He picked you up by your thighs, making his way to your bedroom, his lips never leaving your neck. He nipped and sucked little bruises into your soft flesh. He put you down gently onto the mattress and started groping your breasts. 

“Fuck, I’ve been thinkin’ about this all day, Darlin’”. Logan growls as he starts kissing down the valley between your breasts. He pulled back and slipped off your nightie, revealing your breasts and wet cunt. You blushed and looked away, but your alpha immediately notices. “Hey, no looking away from your alpha now,” Logan says as he grips your jaw to look back at him. 

“Sorry, Alpha” you shyly say. Logan only grunts back in reply as he stares down at you. You grip at his clothes, “off, please” you whine at him. Logan immediately starts to strip down, you stare at his glorious beefy body as he takes off his pleated shirt and jeans. Your eyes traveled the trail of hair down to his already hard cock. You lick your lips wanting to taste so badly. 

Logan notices as smirks, he leans back down to press his lips against yours, just as a whimper escapes through your lips, giving you a smoldering kiss which leaves you breathless within seconds, distracting you as he continues to run his hand up and down the curves of your body, getting closer to your sensitive parts.

You are gasping for breath when he pulls away, and in your complete haze, you watch him as he slowly climbs down your body, his lips never leaving your skin as he trails his hot kisses on you all the way down. He parts your legs further so he could get more comfortable between them, then when he presses a kiss at your nether lips, his fingers parting your folds so he could find your slick entrance and give a long, hungry lick right at where your desire is centered until you cry out. “Taste so fucking sweet ‘mega”. Logan growls as he licks your clit. You hear him moan and you open your eyes to look down at him, to see that his eyes are closed, totally blissed out as he sucks on your cunt, licking your entrance. You feel the hard tips of Logan’s fingers right at your opening, you moan when you feel two fingers parting your hot pussy, your walls instantly begin spasming around them, sucking them inside your depth.

“So hot, baby,” Logan growls, his warm breath falling on your sensitive folds as he whispers between the kisses he is giving you right at your heated core. “I’ve wanted to taste you since I could smell your sweet scent before I even got outta my car.”

You can’t think straight, you’re totally blissed out and your mind is filled with alphalphabreedmatealphabreed constantly, you reckon he has triggered your heat, but you don’t even realize and neither does he. His cock is stiff and swollen, you notice the center of his length has a bulge, showing that his knot is starting to form.  Your cheeks begin to heat up realizing that you’re doing this to your alpha. 

You go deeper and deeper into submission, surrendering yourself to your alpha, letting him know he can use you however he wants. Logan feels everything you feel, your bond is so strong that it’s overwhelming for the both of you. 

He continues to tease you with his fingers for a few more seconds and then the warm rasp of his tongue sends a series of shivers trembling through your body. He licks across your sensitive bud leisurely, biding his time with his eyes on you to take in every single reaction you are giving him through every lick, every swirl of his tongue. He has never seen anything so beautiful. He flicks his tongue from around your clit, down to your slit, moving back and forth as he continues to plunge his fingers into you. You begin to shake as you are nearing the edge.

He must have felt it, because he continues to lick at your cunt, slick pouring out as he slurps it all up, growls deeply against your pussy. “Come for me, little mate.”

You let out a whimper at his command but feel helpless to resist him. You can’t hold it in anymore as you come to your release. “Alpha!”. You moan out as you arch your back, Logan continues to milk through your orgasm and makes sure to gather every drop of cum.

Once you come down from your high, Logan pulls back and climbs up the bed kneeling right beside your head. Keeping one hand at your chin, he raises your head up as he uses the other hand to pump his cock, aiming the crown tip on your swollen lips. “Go and put your pretty mouth to use, Darlin’,” Logan says. A drop of pre-cum leaks from the slit, making you drool at the taste, while the heady scent of his cock fills your senses as you breathe him in.

You eagerly nod, barely catching a breath from your strong orgasm, he slips his cock through your open mouth, wanting to satisfy your alpha.

Groaning, Logan reaches down and squeezes your nipple as he thrust in and out of your mouth with almost the same force he would use if he is deep inside your pussy. 

“Love these tits of yours baby, love to see them jiggle when I fuck your tight cunt” Logan continues to grope your tits as he dirty talks. He thrusts into your mouth hard and you moan at his words, cheeks reddened at how dirty he’s making you feel.

You suck the entire length of him each time, loving the feel of the head of his cock at the back of your throat. Using his other hand, Logan grabs onto your hair, keeping you steady as he plunges deeper inside your mouth, pummelling deep into your throat each time he reaches to the brim.

His heavy balls filled with seed, slaps against your chin, loving the sensation and feeling dirty all at the same time. You dig your nails into his thigh with one hand and into the sheets with the other, holding on tightly as your lover uses your mouth for his pleasure. “So fucking good, baby. Always taking my fat cock so well. Look at you choking on it” Logan rambles as he thrusts into your mouth. He groans as you suck hard. You continue to choke as his knot is forming. 

Logan’s cock falls out of your mouth with a pop. The spasms of your climax remain. You close your eyes trying to catch your breath. You feel movement and blankets being moved on the mattress. After a few minutes, you feel a hand caress your cheek, tucking your hair behind your ears. You open your eyes to see Logan, his pupils are dilated to the point you only almost only see black. “You okay, Honey?” Logan asked. He leans down to press soft kisses to your cheeks and down to your neck. You hum as you lean into his touch, “Want you now Lo”. you said, “please knot me, need it so bad”. 

You’re a whimpering mess now, grinding your clit against Logan’s muscular thigh. Logan growls as he pulls back, he grabs a hold of your hips, flipping you over so that you're laying with your chest pushed flush against the mattress, legs bent, and the knees with your ass and pussy on full display. Your smell consumes him; all that he can think about is the taste of your arousal on his lips and how badly he needs to be inside you now.

His long fingers trace your slit as arousal floods from your entrance, coating your slick on his fingertips. Anticipation pangs at your chest as you wait for his next move. Everything in him wants to drive his hardened cock into you and knot you full of his seed.

Logan’s eyes screwed shut as he brings a finger up to his mouth, basking in the taste of you. A wanton moan erupts from his lips at the taste – so perfectly sweet he would never be able to get enough.

Dire thoughts rush through your mind as you rest on your elbows, face turned to the side to try and see Logan out of your peripheral vision. His pupils are completely blown, eyes focused only on your center as his chest heaves in anticipation. “Please Alpha, breed me, I’m ready,” you say to him. 

Logan is always less talkative during sex and now that he’s in his rut and possibly gone feral, his mind is screaming to him to knot and breed your tight cunt, to the point he can’t form words.

His hand is quick to line himself up with your entrance, grasping onto your hips with such pressure that it is sure to leave bruises tomorrow, even with your fast healing. Sharp fingernails dig into your skin as his tip meets your entrance. It’s fiery and red, inflamed and veins popping out alongside his length from how hard he is. The precum that leaks from his tip coat your slit, combining with the wetness dripping down your thighs to create a delicious mixture.

One last reassuring squeeze of your side is all he gives before pushing into you ruggedly. A sharp gasp leaves your lips as he makes his way into your core, feeling the familiar sensation you felt back during the war. His size is bigger, so much thicker and longer than his normal length when he is not in rut. It’s a lot to take in at once, and he’s trying his best to let you relax as your body adjusts to his size. 

“You can move,” you say, lip caught between your teeth as your walls stretch further around him.

With your fists grasping for the sheets, Logan begins thrusting his hips slowly into you– holding out a second each time he bottoms out to let you breathe. His nails only dig into your sides further, barely giving him a grip onto reality to hold back his animalistic instincts.

Deep grunts leave his mouth as he tries to hold himself back, but he can feel his humanity slipping further and further away with each clench of your pussy. His heavy balls slap against your clit.

“Can’t hold back much longer,” he bares his teeth, “need to breed you now.”

You moan out loud “please, please alpha, need you to fill me up with your pups” you continue to beg him. 

Quickly, his hips snap into yours, his thick muscles flexing as he holds your body steady, fucking into you deeply. Breath is sucked out of you as his pace increases; stars forming at the back of your eyelids as you squeeze them shut, mouth salivating at the increasing pleasure bestowing upon you. His length is a lot to get used to again, even though Logan tried to avoid knotting you back then because you both didn’t have enough time, there were times when he would sneak into your sleeping quarters to knot you in the middle of the night, his hand pressed against your mouth to reduce your loud moans as he thrusts his large cock into you; but the everlasting pressure against your g-spot was making the pain melt away.

Logan thrusts in and out of your pussy effortlessly, your slick coating his cock and making it easy for him to slide in and out of your velvety walls. With each thrust, he bottoms out, and it becomes difficult for you to remain upright. Limbs shaking from pleasure, your elbows begin to give way, landing you flat against the mattress.

Your mouth opens, but the only thing able to escape is a silent scream, too immersed in the feeling of him battering your walls and hitting your cervix to make a sound. A loud moan leaves your lips as he pulls you back up, his arms wrapping around your waist to use all his strength to hold you in position. His sweaty hairy chest is pressed flush against your back, the heat radiating off his body soothing you as his mouth meets your ear. A quick nip is placed on your earlobe as he catches it between his teeth.

“Taking me so well.”

He says in his deep voice. The praise quickly soothes your nerves, helping you relax into him as he holds your body close, closer than you had ever felt to him before. His tip is repeatedly hitting against the sensitive spot deep inside of you, you know he’s not ready to let up just yet, but you’re too on edge to hold on.

“Logan I-I’m gonna–”

“I can smell it,” he groans, mouth meeting your bond mark as he sucks harshly on it. 

A string of cuss words falls from your lips as your eyes clamp shut, relishing in your release as your pussy spasms around his cock. His movements don’t slow either – his pace is still erratic, plummeting into you at an ungodly rate.

Feeling your release over him only makes him thrust harder, deeper. It sends him into a full-blown frenzy, unable to keep himself from chasing his high. “Smells so sweet, gonna breed you, Baby, have you pumped up with my pups. Gonna look so sexy with your tits filled with milk and your pregnant belly.” he rambles, the more he talks dirty the closer you get to the edge. 

And you knew what this meant. You both finally have a chance to have children. Something you have always wanted when you first got together with Logan. Before meeting him, you never had high hopes to find a man and have a child or two. You were insecure and no one wanted a 26-year-old virgin omega. Especially since omegas were looked down upon back then.

But that time is over now, you're with the love of your life 70+ years into the future and everything you have ever wanted is here right now.

“God, do it, Logan, please knot me,” the words slip between cries, still shaking in the aftermath of your orgasm, “Breed me.”

So he does.

His eyes slam shut as his mouth finds the crook of your neck, breaking the flesh as his sharp teeth sink into your skin, reclaiming you once again. Screams blow past your lips as blood begins to trickle from the wound on your shoulder. Your chest tightens in pain, loving and hating the sensation all at once. Relief takes over once his tongue meets the small incisions made on your skin, his saliva filling the holes and alleviating the wounds as he licks up the blood.

“That’s it ‘mega. Doing so good for me. So perfect.”

Your heart flutters at his claim, have never felt as close to him as you do right now. Firecrackers lit through your veins, the connection between you and Logan binding stronger than ever and you couldn’t be happier. It felt like you were floating in thin air. Your body is unable to focus on any pain right now, you’re too blissed out from the shock of him reclaiming you to notice how his cock is beginning to swell inside of you.

Cum shoots out of his member, filling you up to the brim until your abdomen begins to feel heavy and swell. That floating feeling quickly begins to fade as his orgasm keeps coming and coming, no inch of your insides gone untouched by his seed. It seems like it's never going to end, and you can feel the pressure from his release building and building inside of you. Your sensitive walls stretch as his cock expands, your body doing the job it’s supposed to; knotting to plug you up and make sure none of his cum drips out.

“Logan,” you whine, tears spilling from your eyes as his cock continues to inflate inside of you, “Logan it kinda hurts.”

“Shhh It’s almost over, baby,” he comforts you, stroking your hair before guiding you onto your side, laying behind you. After such a rough round, his familiar touch eases your pain. The light kisses he places along your spine let you sink back into him, focusing on the feeling of his soft lips instead of the balloon-sized cock stretching your vagina. Gentle hands trace circles up and down your arms as you listen to the sound of his calming breath. His chest heaves as he tries to come down from the adrenaline rush.

Soft kisses soon turn into small licks running over the length of your back as you lay there, still speared on his cock. Now that his animalistic needs were met, it was all about you.

“What are you doing?” you frown slightly.

“Cleaning you up,” he answers calmly, his even more heightened senses finding nothing strange with this new method of aftercare. You’re too immersed in your thoughts to question him any further; if this is what his alpha side was telling him to do then so be it.

As Logan’s knot begins to subdue he doesn’t let go. His tongue soothes over the spot of his mark, all red, but could see the bond mark more visible than it was before. 

“Do you really think this will work?” you ask Logan. You don’t know what you will do with yourself if you aren’t able to get pregnant by this. “It will trust me, Darlin’. And if it doesn’t, we’ll try again and again until it does,” he says as he kisses your shoulder.

“You’re so beautiful, I’m so happy you’re mine after all these years.”

Butterflies flutter in your tummy as a smile stretches across your face. All you want to do right now is to turn around and kiss him, so you do. His face is just as bright as yours when you meet his eyes. His hair is messy and his skin is shining with perspiration, but he looks handsome as ever. He welcomes your kiss like he’s been waiting for it all day. Mouth chasing after your lips, capturing them in a quick kiss before pulling away.

It's the first time he’s seen your eyes since you’ve gotten home, and even then he couldn’t appreciate them as he could now. There's a different glow that he didn’t notice before. Maybe it's because he’s reclaimed you and knotted you after all these years, but he is willing to do anything and everything for you.

“I love you,” you sigh, pressing your palm to his cheek. He looks so innocent now, the blackness in his eyes now faded back to the hazel color you love so much. All the years and pain he’s been through, disappeared. 

“And I love that you’re mine.”

[feyascorner]

Please please please I am in desperate need of Astarion comforting Tav.

Like Tav is always comforting everyone else, but there is never anybody to hold their hand when they are scared or hug them when they are sad. Please let them be scared. Let them be sad, let them be vulnerable and let them feel their own emotions.

Tav needs a hug :,)

a/n. no you're so right because I AM ALWAYS OPEN TO TAV LOVE!!!!! This ended up a lot more fluffy and lighthearted than I expected but I hope that’s okay! :) also this is not proofread pls excuse me for the grammar errors that are definitely in here.

You don’t mind helping others, really. You don’t mind guiding Shadowheart to escaping her evil goddess, you don’t mind finding a way to aid Gale’s ticking time bomb, and you don’t mind spending hours in battle to find a piece of infernal iron for Karlach. It’s natural after all, because they’re your precious companions.

But it’s also made the thought of being something else—the one being comforted—more shameful than anything.

It was just a bad day, honestly. Bits of your life being pricked at with needles. The whole week had been hellish, but today seemed to be bent on finally wiping you clean. A battle going wrong, the lake freezing over and preventing you from taking a bath, the pot of soup you were in charge of burning to cinders—they’re all small, but they add up. And when you find that your favorite pair of gloves are splitting at the seams, it’s your final straw.

You stumble into your tent, barely holding back tears as you close the flap shut behind you, signaling that you wanted to be alone. You collapse into your bedroll, face first as even the blanket beneath you isn’t enough to cushion you against the hard floor.

Gods.

You squeeze your eyes shut, begging your tears to leave. The others have a lot more problems at the moment—ones that wager between life and death—but you can’t help the overwhelming burst of emotions you’ve kept bottled in for weeks now. So many bad things are happening, but there’s no time for you to mourn, because the least you can do is stand beside your companions in their own grief. It forces you to constantly stay alert, keeping your heart open for them but shut closed for yourself.

It’s so, so overwhelming. It almost feels like it’ll swallow you whole.

“Are you alright, darling?”

You hadn’t even heard him entering the tent, and immediately your shoulders tense as you shoot up into a sitting position, wiping desperately at your eyes. You know they’re red, but you hope he ignores it. “No, I’m just tired. I’m turning in early for tonight, sorry.”

He stares at you, making his suspicion blatantly obvious to urge you to continue but you don’t, forcing your eyes to the ground. “No need to be sorry, my love. I was just making sure.”

You want to throw yourself into him. To let him hold you as you complain about the more mundane parts of life as well as the feelings wracking the sobs of your chest. To let him soothe you as all you can do is cry.

But you don’t. It’s just not what you do.

“Pity, these pretty things of yours,” he lifts your gloves that had been discarded on the ground with a cock of a brow. “I quite liked them. But…they don’t seem to be at a complete loss yet.”

You finally look at him.

“Why it just needs a bit of stitching and some polish. It’ll look even better than it did before with my handiwork,” he inspects the fabric closely. “Hm, I was finished with fixing Karlach’s shirt anyway, I suppose I could spare some time for your gloves.”

Despite his words, his eyes are gentle as they shift over to you, and it makes your lip quiver.

“I’ll ask again,” he says softly, and you know it’s an effort in vain to resist. “Are you alright?”

Like a river breaking through a dam, you fling yourself into him, tears already slipping down your cheeks as they smear against his shirt. You worry about the snot for a split second, yanking away, but he just pushes your head back to him, sighing with you practically wrapped on top of him.

“You should have told me before things had gotten this bad, my love,” he says, no true judgment laced in his words. If anything, he sounds amused. It makes you cry even harder as you wail loudly into his chest, with his hand rubbing soothing circles into your back.

It’s like a breath of fresh air.

“Would you like to talk about it?” He asks eventually after what seems like eternity, and your sobs have calmed to sniffles.

“…not now.”

“Very well,” he laces his fingers with yours, and you tilt your head up just enough to see the fond smile stretching on his lips. “I shall remain here until you’re ready. Until then, I have no quarrels with our current arrangement.”

You mumble against him as he lifts your knuckles to his lips. “…thank you for this.”

“You needed this,” he replies, as if it’s obvious. “I’m not you, of course, which is why comfort is not my strong suit, as charming as I am. I much prefer blowing off steam in a bloody battle, but this—“ he runs a hand through your hair, gentle enough not to pull at any strands. You resist the need to sigh into the feeling. “—this, I can do as many times as you need.”

[sainns]

LIKE OR LIKE LIKE.

𝓢. ㅤㅤthis is the the first time you've ever gotten drunk and of course you go and confess to your best friend.

SJYㅤ✶ ㅤ (⠀femreader⠀) . . . best friends to lovers (kind of, they don't explicitly start dating), fluff, alcohol consumption, reader gets drunk, not proofread.ㅤ1428 words

“i’ve never seen her drunk before,” sunghoon points to where you’re leaning against the wall.

jake turns to look at you, watching as you talk to chaewon. you’re continously taking sips of your drink, a sleepy smile on your face as you listen to your friend’s (most likely) drunk ramblings. he can tell you’re tipsy, at the very least; your body is swaying, it seems like you’re having a hard time staying upright.

“yeah.. i’m gonna go lay her down before it gets worse. i don’t want her to wake up sick,”

sunghoon gives jake a knowing look, shrugging as he takes a sip of his own drink, “predictable,”

“what?”

“nothing,”

sunghoon grins, patting jake on the head before walking away to—jake assumes—bother his girlfriend. the older boy shakes his head, running a hand through his already messy hair, turning around once more to watch you.

this is the first time you’ve ever gotten drunk, he thinks. you’ve mentioned before that it’s because you’re scared of how you’ll act, not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of them. he’s glad that you’re more comfortable now, and at least you’re only here with them, your friends, and not at some party full of strangers and weirdos.

he watches as chaewon pats your back, albeit a little forcefully, before she leaves to find someone new to bother. he also watches you attempt to follow her but give up halfway through your first step. he smiles to himself, heading over to where you’re standing—or leaning.

“oookay, no more for you. you can’t even stand straight, dude,” jake takes the red solo cup away and out of your reach, giving you an amused smile. you pout but you don’t put up a fight—you can’t, not fully anyways. if you could, though, you would tell him that he’s being dramatic; six shots and half a cup of jungle juice is hardly anything.

“c’mon, you can go lay down in my room, you look tired,”

“okay,”

you make a move to walk by yourself but jake steps behind you, placing his hands on your waist so that he can guide you away from your friends. it feels like your senses are heightened to a dangerous level because why do you get goosebumps the moment he touches you? you squeeze your eyes shut, forcing your heart to calm down.

somehow you make it to his bedroom without stumbling a whole lot (this is 100% thanks to jake; you were sure that you wouldn’t have been able to do it yourself), and he taps your side, signaling for you to sit down on his bed, which you do.

he kneels down and pulls your shoes off, setting them on the floor. he pats your thigh, leaving yet another wake of goosebumps on your skin, “stay here, ‘kay? i’m gonna go get you some water,”

“i don’t want any,” you whine, “i’m tired, not thirsty,”

“yeah, well, you’ll be thirsty in a little bit,”

“no, i won’t,”

“yes, you will. you’re drunk,”

you huff, throwing yourself back on the bed, “am not. also you’re so annoying. i don’t want water, i always drink water,”

jake snorts at your antics, tucking his head away as he tries to keep from laughing too loudly. after a few seconds, he calms down and looks back at your figure, smiling fondly. you can’t see him, your eyes closed as you hum some random song that he hasn’t heard since he was ten years old.

you look so serene, he doesn’t want to disturb you. he figures he can just tell sunghoon or someone to come bring some water or he can wait for you to fall asleep.

“i’m sad,” you huff, sitting up slowly.

“why are you sad, hm?” he rests his head against your knee.

you frown at him. his words felt slightly condescending. not that you really cared, in fact it kind of made you feel dizzy. wow, he’s just terrible. looking at you all worried, taking care of you while you’re (not) drunk.

“because of you,”

he sits up at that. he looks like a dog who heard the word ‘snack’ or something. of course, he wasn’t happy. he looked more worried than before, in fact.

“me? what’d i do?”

“you’re just annoying,” you whine, “you know, i like you and it’s kinda funny ‘cause i’m, like, so obvious about it,”

“you like me? like like me?”

“well, actually, i love you,” you pause, “you’re not very smart, now that i think about it. how’d you even graduate? did you cheat? i think everyone knows but you. this is so awful, i can’t believe i had to go and like someone so oblivious. you’re lucky everything else cancels that out,”

“wait, wait, wait. you love me? that’s..” jake asks, his face flushed, completely disregarding everything you said after your confession, “yn, you’re.. you know, you’re drunk,”

“oh, okay,” you push his head away, “look, i’ll tell you tomorrow, ‘cos i really mean it and you’re so annoying and it’s, like, oh my god,” you say something else after that but he can’t tell what. not with you speaking as fast as humanly possible paired with drunken slurring.

he nods slowly, processing your words, “yeah.. okay. you can’t forget, alright?”

you grin, poking his cheek, “duh, i have an amazing memory,”

your amazing memory may be your downfall. surely, you had drank enough to wake up the next morning with zero memory. isn’t that what usually happens when someone gets so drunk they tell their best friend that they like them? not even like, you said you loved him.

and now you’re laying in his bed, face pressed into his pillow, absolutely mortified at your past self’s actions.

you’re never going to speak to him again. you’re going to get up, put your shoes on, and sneak out. yeah, it’ll seem like you’re doing the walk of shame, god forbid anyone catches you, but that’d be less embarrassing than having to talk to jake.

you don’t get the chance to attempt to escape, though, because jake walks in right as you’re weighing your options.

“hey, are you awake? it’s two in the afternoon,” you hear him place a glass on the nightstand as he sits next to you.

you could pretend that you forgot.

you feel his hand rubbing your back, “i heard you groaning, get up,”

“i don’t want to,” you mumble into the pillow, pressing your face into it harder.

“i can’t hear you, you know,”

you groan loudly, picking your head up, “i don’t want to get up,”

“why? are you embarrassed?”

“i didn’t do anything embarrassing,” yes you did.

he nods, “nah, you didn’t. i was just checking, you get embarrassed easily,”

you’re quiet for a moment after that. his hand is still rubbing your back and you can feel your heat beating against your chest. you want to pretend that you forgot about last night but for some reason you can’t. you want to bring it up despite feeling nauseous at the thought of being rejected.

“i like you,”

he smiles, “yesterday you said you love me,”

you gape at him and he laughs loudly. you want to kill both him and yourself.

“i’m sorry—i’m kidding.. i like you too,” he hums, tilting his head, “no, actually, i love you,”

you frown, “you’re embarrassing me,”

he laughs again which makes you want to both laugh and hide away from him, “god, you’re so cute. i kinda wanna kiss you, is that okay?”

you almost say yes before you remember that you just woke up not even twenty minutes ago and you are not going to kiss him with bad breath. especially not when you were drinking the night before.

“i just woke up,”

he leans forward, close enough that you can just barely lift your head and you’ll be able to kiss him, “so?”

“no,” it pains you to do so but you turn your head away from him. you know he won’t kiss you if you don’t want him to but you’d probably fold and kiss him if he kept staring at you like that, “you can.. uh, later. after i brush my teeth,”

he turns you over onto your back, smiling above you brightly. you gasp at the sudden movement, your heart racing yet again (you should go to the hospital), “promise? i really wanna kiss you right now,”

you laugh, reaching your hand up to move his hair out of his face, “yeah, i promise. i really wanna kiss you too.”

[leona-hawthorne]

KINKTOBER #6– MY PRETTY LITTLE WIFE / mattheo riddle

october 21st somnophilia , body worship , overstim

mattheo riddle x fem reader

summary: one year anniversary with your husband

warnings: unprotected piv, somnophilia, overstim, oral (f receiving), fingering, praise, body worship, arranged marriage

words: 4.9k

a/n: the struggle that i had writing this was insane… i just never felt like i could get it quite right, but i’m gonna stop overthinking it. don’t really love it but that’s alright!

navigation kinktober masterlist

Mattheo lay beside you, staring at the ceiling, eyes tracing the same cracks in the plaster as they have for months. The morning light slipped through the curtains in thin slivers, cutting through the quiet of the room like the unspoken words that have hung in the air since the day you both said, “I do.”

It had been a year. A year of stolen glances and lingering touches that never went too far. A year of pretending the hunger in his chest wasn't real, that the way you looked at him sometimes didn't make his heart race in ways it shouldn't. He couldn't deny it anymore, not to himself. He wanted you—had wanted you for longer than he was willing to admit. But want was dangerous, and with it came the risk of exposing everything he'd been trying to keep buried.

So he stayed still, as he had for the past year, his heart pounding a rhythm that only he could hear. The tension remained, hanging over him, heavy and unrelenting, a constant reminder that something had to give. He just didn't know when—or how—it would finally break.

You were still asleep, your body turned away from him, and for a moment, Mattheo wondered if it was better this way—silent. No more venom-laced words. No more walls built so high neither of you could see over them.

His eyes raked over your figure, the rise and fall of your breathing hypnotic, and his fingers itched with the urge to reach out. He wouldn’t, though. Not after the way you’ve pushed him away all this time. And yet, here you were, in the same bed, your presence so close it suffocated him with all that’s left unsaid.

A year. A fucking year, and it felt like neither of you had taken a single step toward each other. But in this quiet morning, something was different. He could feel it, hanging heavy in the air. An anniversary isn’t just a date, it’s a reckoning—a moment to confront what’s been festering between you two for so long.

You stirred, rolling onto your back, eyes still closed, lips parted in a soft sigh. Mattheo’s heart stuttered. That sigh—it wasn’t laced with frustration. It was almost peaceful. For a split second, he wondered if you might wake up and look at him without that familiar disdain.

But then you turned again, away from him, and the moment slipped like sand through his fingers.

Mattheo clenched his jaw. He was tired of this—this endless dance of anger and yearning, frustration and desire. He hated you for how you’d made him feel—helpless, raw, desperate in a way that terrified him. And yet, he wanted you more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life.

Today was supposed to mean something. The thought burrowed into his mind, gnawing at him. It’s your anniversary. One year of this madness. One year of pretending like it doesn’t hurt to be this close and yet so far.

He shifted, sitting up, his gaze never leaving you. The silence was heavier than it’s ever been. It was thick with the weight of everything unsaid, every insult, every half-glance, every touch that never happened.

“Happy anniversary, princess,” he muttered under his breath, the words dripping with sarcasm—but also something else, something bitter and almost…sad.

You didn’t stir. You didn’t hear him.

Of course you didn’t.

Maybe that was for the best.

Mattheo’s heart twisted in ways he didn’t want to admit as he watched you sleep. In sleep, you were untouchable, your face a canvas of peace he's never had the privilege of seeing when your eyes are open. No biting words, no tension pulling at the corners of your mouth. You were beautiful in a way that cut him to the core—a beauty that made him ache, made him question if he's ever hated you at all.

Gods, you were unreal.

He hated how easily that thought slipped in, how it consumed him as his eyes drank in the soft curve of your lips, the way your lashes fluttered ever so slightly against your cheek, even in sleep. There was no defense here, no barbed words to keep him at bay. Just you, unaware of the havoc you wreaked inside him.

Mattheo swallowed hard, his hand twitching at his side. He shouldn’t. He knew he shouldn’t. But the need was there, creeping up his spine like a poison he couldn’t shake. Just one touch—just to feel you without the wall of tension between you.

His fingers moved before he could stop himself, ghosting over the back of your hand where it lay beside you. The touch was light, barely there, but it sent a shiver through him all the same. He watched your face for any sign of waking, but you remained still, lost in whatever dream kept you so blissfully unaware of the storm raging inside him.

His heart pounded in his chest as his hand trailed upward, brushing against the soft skin of your forearm. He couldn’t help it. The urge to feel more of you was overwhelming, drowning out every rational thought that told him to stop. His touch was feather-light, almost reverent, as if he were afraid to wake you, to break whatever fragile peace had settled over this moment.

You shifted slightly, and Mattheo froze, his breath catching in his throat. But you didn’t wake. Instead, you murmured something incoherent, a soft sound that tugged at something deep in his chest. His fingers itched to go further, to trace the curve of your jaw, to let his thumb brush over your lips—lips he’d thought about far too many times in the dark when sleep refused to come.

He moved closer, his body inching toward yours, until he could feel the warmth of your skin radiating toward him. His fingers hovered just above your cheek now, hesitating. If you woke up now, what would you do? What would you say if you saw him like this, caught between resentment and something far more dangerous?

But you didn’t wake. You stayed still, serene, and Mattheo’s fingers finally grazed your cheek, the softness of your skin like fire under his touch. His thumb brushed just below your bottom lip, and his heart stuttered in his chest. He was too far gone now. The beauty of your silence, your stillness, had him unraveling.

For a moment, he let himself imagine a world where this wasn’t an accident, where you wanted his touch. A world where you turned toward him, those lips parting beneath his thumb, inviting him closer instead of pushing him away.

But that world wasn’t real. And he knew the second you woke, that wall would slam back up between you, higher than ever before.

Still, in this stolen moment, with you so close and unaware, Mattheo let himself fall—just a little further.

"Just a dream, princess..." he whispered, voice low and sultry, as if the very words could tether you to this moment forever. It was a lie, but one he relished—the illusion that this was safe, that you wouldn't wake up and shatter it all with your reality.

He leaned closer, just inches from your face, his breath mingling with the morning air. Your lips were soft, slightly parted, and he felt an overwhelming urge to taste them. Instead, he pressed a gentle kiss against the corner of your mouth, his heart racing at the intimacy of it, but the touch was still too innocent, too soft for what he craved.

"Mattheo..." you murmured, stirring slightly but not waking, and the sound sent a thrill racing down his spine. That voice—so full of vulnerability, so beautifully unguarded—made him ache in ways he didn't know he could.

"You don't even know," he breathed, his fingers trailing down to your neck, the warmth of your pulse thrumming against his skin like a live wire. He wanted to mark you, to claim you in a way that was irrevocable, but he held back, letting the reverence of the moment wash over him instead.

But the longing grew insatiable. With a slight hesitation, he slid his hand lower, fingertips brushing against your collarbone, down the slope of your shoulder, and over the soft swell of your breast, barely there but electric all the same. The connection sent shockwaves through him, a heady mix of need and desire surging like wildfire beneath his skin.

You shifted again, breath hitching in your throat, and Mattheo's heart raced. He leaned closer, lips hovering just above your ear, whispering like he was sharing a secret that belonged only to the two of you. "Just let me touch you... just like this."

His fingers curled gently around the curve of your breast, a cautious exploration, but the warmth spreading through him ignited a deeper hunger. He longed to feel every part of you, to drown in the intimacy that had always felt just out of reach. The feel of the soft fabric of your nightgown beneath his palm only fueled the fire inside him.

You stirred once more, a soft sigh escaping your lips. The sound cracked through whatever restraint he had left. With a sudden rush of desire, he pressed his palm firmly against you, feeling your heartbeat.

"Stay still," he murmured again, his voice thick with something almost raw. "Let me have this."

He wanted to hear you say his name, to see the look in your eyes when you realized this wasn't a dream. He wanted you to respond to him, to melt under his touch, and it drove him wild, the thought of making you unravel.

Mattheo’s other hand came up to cup your cheek tenderly, angling your face toward him as he deepened the pressure of his palm against your breast. He was drunk on the sensation of you against him—the warmth, the softness, the quickening rhythm of your heart beneath his fingers.

A part of him feared waking you now, fearful of losing this ethereal contact before it faded away. Somnolently, he tilted your chin upward, his thumb brushing lightly across your lower lip, tracing the delicate curves. His own breathing grew ragged, punctuated by low, steadying exhales.

The darkness of dawn clung to the edges of the room, yet in that moment, illuminated solely by the glow of the sun seeping through the curtains, they might have been lost in some alternate realm where such actions were permissible.

Slowly, deliberately, Mattheo leaned in, his breath ghosting over your lips, teasing them apart just enough for his tongue to graze your inner flesh. The gesture, though chaste, buzzed with unspoken promises.

His gaze flickered down to your nightgown, the lace edges calling to him in a way he couldn’t resist. Before long, your eyes fluttered open to the feel of his fingers skimming your damp folds, prodding and poking at your entrance, his touch feather-light and hesitant. His eyes darkened as they met yours, a soft hum escaping his lips as he noticed the drowsy lust in your dazed eyes.

With agonizing slowness, his fingers traced your slit, gathering the dewy evidence of your arousal. “Shh, sleep a little longer,” he coaxed, voice dripping with desire, circling your entrance with his thumb. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. Just sleep. You’re dreaming, princess.”

Then, without warning, he sank a finger deep inside you, reveling in the tight heat that welcomed him. He moved languidly, savoring the slick glide as he pumped in and out in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. Your body reacted instinctively to the invasion, tiny gasps spilling from your lips, though your mind lingered in the haze of half-sleep.

Confusion swam in your half-lidded gaze as you stared up at him, your brow furrowing slightly as you struggled to make sense of the sensations assaulting your senses. A soft whimper escaped your throat, part protest, part plea, as your hips canted upwards almost imperceptibly into his touch. “What are you… Stop…”

But even as you whispered the denial, your body betrayed you, a fresh surge of wetness coating his invading digit. Mattheo swallowed hard, his free hand coming up to cradle your cheek, thumb brushing over your parted lips in a gesture meant to soothe even as his touch between your thighs grew bolder, a second finger joining the first in their relentless quest to unravel you completely.

His fingers stilled momentarily, the contrast between his touch on your cheek and the intensity between your thighs palpable. “Don’t fight with me, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice low and raw. “For once, please don’t fucking right with me.”

Desperation lingered in his plea, a vulnerability he rarely showed. “Let me take care of you… just this once. Let me show you how good it could be between us.”

Your chest rose and fell with each shaky breath, your eyes drifting shut as you surrendered to the unfamiliar sensations, the resistance in your muscles melting away.

With a tender kiss to your forehead, he resumed his gentle assault, pumping his fingers in and out of your slick heat with increasing depth and purpose. The wet sounds of your heat filled the room, punctuated by your own ragged pants and the occasional whimper that escaped your throat.

"You're so beautiful like this, sleepyhead," he murmured, his voice a husky whisper against your skin. "So perfect..."

As he continued to stroke you with deliberate slowness, he could feel your walls beginning to flutter around his fingers, a sign that you were nearing the precipice of release.

"Come on, baby," he coaxed, his tone a seductive purr. "Let go for me. I want to see you fall apart. For once, let’s use this bed for what it was made for.”

Your climax crashed over you in waves, nails digging into the sheets beneath you, fisting the fabric as you rode out the aftershocks, shuddering with the force of your orgasm.

Mattheo watched you intently as he withdrew his fingers from your spasming channel, bringing them to his mouth to taste your essence. A low groan rumbled in his chest as he savored the flavor of you, his eyes darkening with renewed hunger.

"Do you have any fucking idea what you do you me?” His voice was raw, a broken show of the desperate man he’d become. “Prancing around the house in those tiny little silk shorts, cursing up a storm at me anytime you got the chance," he muttered, his voice roughened by need. "So fucking hot. Wanted to touch you, taste you, take you in every position possible."

His lips trailed a searing path up your inner thigh, pausing to nip at the tender flesh before continuing his ascent. "Can’t count the amount of times I’ve imagined bending you over the kitchen counter and fucking you raw every time you’ve screamed at me for leaving my dirty clothes on the floor.”

Mattheo's words painted a vivid picture, each filthy promise igniting a firestorm of desire within you. Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined your cold, distant husband harboring such primal urges towards you.

He paused as his lips reached your cunt, breath fanning over your wetness. "Tell me to stop, Y/N,” he growled, his voice a low challenge. "Order me to leave you alone, and I will. But if you don't..." His tongue darted out, licking a broad stripe up your center, tasting the lingering proof of your recent climax. "If you don't say 'stop', I'm going to devour you whole."

Mattheo's threat hung in the air, a tantalizing promise that sent shivers down your spine. Every fiber of your being screamed at you to push him away, to reclaim the distance that had grown between you over the past year.

Instead, you felt your hips twitch upward, seeking more of that intoxicating contact. A soft moan escaped your lips, the sound barely audible over the pounding of your heartbeat. "Please," you breathed, the single word a plea and a surrender all at once. "I...I don't want you to stop."

A triumphant growl rumbled in Mattheo's chest as he claimed your submission, his mouth descending upon your dripping core with unbridled hunger. His tongue delved deep, lapping at your folds with reckless abandon, savoring the unique taste of your arousal.

“Mmphh—” You tried forming coherent words but they wouldn’t come out. Your hands flew to his head, tangling in his hair as you held him close, encouraging his relentless assault.

Mattheo sucked gently on your clit, flicking the sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue before moving lower to lap at your entrance, his hot breath fanning over your sensitive flesh. "Fuck, you taste incredible," he rasped, his voice muffled against you. "Can't get enough."

As your moans grew louder, more frantic, he slipped two fingers back inside you, curling them just right to hit that spot that made stars explode behind your eyelids. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, a desperate plea for more, for everything he could give you.

He obliged, doubling his efforts, determined to wring every last drop of pleasure from your quivering body. "That's it, baby," he urged, his words vibrating against your core. "Let go. Come for me again."

Your second climax slammed into you with the force of a tidal wave, stealing the breath from your lungs and rendering you boneless beneath Mattheo's ravishing mouth.

But Mattheo didn't relent, not even when you went limp, your body thrashing in the throes of ecstasy. If anything, he redoubled his efforts, suckling harder on your oversensitive clit, dragging out another orgasm from you.

His actions bordered on cruelty, yet you couldn't bring yourself to protest, too lost in the overwhelming sensations he evoked.

Despite the blissful haze clouding your mind, a faint thread of panic began to unfurl, urging you to put a halt to this merciless onslaught before you shattered completely.

With a shaky hand, you managed to grasp Mattheo's hair, attempting to gently push his face away from your throbbing sex. "S-stop," you whimpered, the words tumbling out in a desperate plea. "Too much, can't take it..."

Mattheo ignored your feeble attempts to push him away, his mouth continuing its ruthless assault on your oversensitive sex. He pulled his fingers out of you and hooked your legs over his shoulders, only burying his face deeper in your cunt. "Not gonna stop," he groaned against you, his words a heated whisper against your slick folds. "Making up for all the times I didn't touch you. That's my job as your husband, right? To make you feel good. Let me make up for all the times I denied you that."

"Oh god, oh fuck, please..." you gasped, your hips bucking erratically as Mattheo drove you to new heights of ecstasy.

Tears streamed down your face, the overwhelming sensations threatening to tear you apart at the seams. Yet, even as your body trembled with exhaustion, you craved more, desperate for the release only Mattheo could provide.

"P-please," you sobbed, your voice raw and broken. "I n-need...I need..." Words failed you, your mind too fractured to articulate the depths of your desires.

Mattheo seemed to understand, his gaze locking onto yours with fierce intensity. "Shh, I know,"

He murmured soothingly, his warm breath caressing your fevered skin. "Just let go, baby. Give it to me. I've got you."

With those reassuring words, he sealed his lips around your throbbing clit once more, sucking hard. The sensations proved too much to bear, and with a keening wail, you surrendered to the torrent of pleasure crashing over you.

“Fuck! Oh, fuck.” Your orgasm ripped through you like a wildfire, consuming everything in its path. You convulsed wildly, your vision blurring as waves of ecstasy washed over you in relentless succession.

Slowly, he lifted his head, his lips glistening with your essence. "Beautiful," he breathed, his eyes burning with a possessive heat. "So fucking beautiful when you come undone for me."

With gentle hands, Mattheo reached for the hem of your nightgown, slowly peeling the fabric upwards to reveal inch after inch of smooth, unblemished skin. His gaze followed the movement, drinking in the sight of your bare flesh as if it were the most exquisite treasure he'd ever laid eyes on.

"God, look at you," he whispered, his voice thick with awe and hunger. "Perfect. Absolutely perfect."

He cupped your breasts, thumbs grazing over sensitive nipples, coaxing them to peak under his gentle touch. "And these...fuck, these are gorgeous. So responsive, so eager for my attention." He leaned in, capturing a nipple between his lips, suckling softly as he rolled the other between his fingers.

Every part of you was adored, worshiped, cherished—from your soft throat to the dip of your waist, from your round ass to the delicate skin of your inner thighs.

"You're stunning," he murmured, his hands gliding over your body with a reverence that took your breath away. "Every curve, every shadow...all mine. You’re fucking incredible."

His touch was tender, almost shy, as if he feared you might vanish if he wasn't careful. But there was a hardness to his gaze, a wildness that promised untold pleasures.

Mattheo trailed his lips across the landscape of your body, his mouth worshiping every swell and hollow with heartfelt devotion. From the elegant column of your throat to the tantalizing curves of your tits, he savored each inch with tender care.

Kisses peppered the valley between your breasts, his hot breath fanning across your skin. Downward he moved, tracing the gentle arc of your ribs, the dip of your navel, mapping the secrets of your body with lips and tongue.

Your skin tingled under his ardent attentions, each brush of his lips stoking the embers smoldering low in your belly.

He continued down your quivering body, trailing open-mouthed caresses along your thighs as his strong hands gripped your calves, kneading the supple flesh with appreciative murmurs.

"You temptress," he chided gently, pressing fervent kisses to the arches of your ankles. "For months now, you've been driving me mad without even realizing it. Sleeping in your tiny shorts, bending over just so, glaring at me with those eyes..."

"You're not serious," you mumbled, your voice laced with disbelief even as your heart raced at the thought. Could it really be true that he'd been craving you for so long? That you had unwittingly tormented him with your mere presence? You couldn’t bring yourself to believe it.

Yet, as you looked into Mattheo's intense gaze, saw the hunger and admiration etched on his features, a small spark of hope flickered to life within your chest.

"You have no idea what you do to me. One glance from those gorgeous eyes, and I'm putty in your hands. I’m fucking defenseless against you."

He brushed a lock of hair behind your ear, his fingertips grazing your skin with a feather-light touch. "Look at you, spread out like a feast before me. My God, you're breathtaking. Every curve, every freckle, every goddamn thing about you is perfection incarnate."

Mattheo's eyes burned into yours, his gaze heavy with lust and need. His hand slid up your thigh, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he urged you closer.

"Tell me, Y/N," he purred, his voice low and seductive. "Are you going to let me fuck you? Are you going to let me be your husband properly?”

He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he spoke. "I want to do this shit right. Just give me a do-over. Let me fuck you. Please let me fuck you. Let me love you like you deserve to be loved.”

After a moment of hesitation, you felt your resolve crumble under the intensity of Mattheo's gaze. A shaky exhale left your lips as you nodded, a tentative smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"Show me," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the pounding of your own heartbeat. "Show me what it means to be your wife."

Your words seemed to ignite a fire within Mattheo. In an instant, he was hovering over you, his body a delicious weight pinning you to the mattress. His lips crashed against yours in a searing kiss, desperate and hungry, as if he were trying to devour you whole.

Breaking the kiss, he trailed his lips along your jawline, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin until you were writhing beneath him. "Fuck, baby," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this."

He rocked his hips against yours, the hard length of him grinding against your core through the thin fabric of his boxers. The friction sent jolts of pleasure coursing through your veins, stoking the flames of your own arousal.

With a rapid urgency, Mattheo yanked his boxers down, freeing himself from their confines. His erection sprang forth, thick and hard, the tip glistening with precum. He positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his cock teasing your slick folds.

"Are you ready for me, princess?" he rasped, his voice strained with barely contained restraint. "I promise I'll make it good for you. So fucking good."

Without waiting for a response, he thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt inside your tight heat. A guttural moan tore from his throat at the exquisite sensation, his eyes fluttering closed as he savored the feeling of finally being one with you.

Mattheo's hips snapped forward, driving deep into your welcoming warmth with each powerful stroke. He set a relentless pace, his thick cock stretching and filling you completely with every thrust.

"Oh, fuck, Y/N," he groaned, his forehead pressed against yours as he battled to maintain control. "Tight little thing, aren’t you? Just relax, breathe."

His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into your flesh as he pulled you onto him, meeting each of his deep, punishing drives. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room, punctuated by your moans.

Mattheo's movements became more erratic, his rhythm faltering as he neared the edge. Sweat beaded on his brow, dripped down the sides of his face, mingling with the strands of hair that clung to his forehead.

"You feel...fuck, you feel incredible," he panted, his breaths coming in short gasps. "Like heaven wrapped around my cock."

With a final, brutal plunge, Mattheo buried himself to the hilt and held there, his pulsing cock throbbing inside you as he rode out his orgasm. A hoarse moan ripped from his throat, his body shuddering with the force of his release as he emptied himself deep within your welcoming depths, but your own peak still remained frustratingly out of reach.

"Don't stop," you pleaded, your voice a breathy whisper against his sweat-slicked skin. "Please, Mattheo... I need..."

You trailed off, unable to find the words to express the aching emptiness that still gnawed at your core.

A wicked grin spread across Mattheo’s face, his spent cock still buried inside your fluttering sheath.

"Mmm, greedy girl," he purred, his voice a low rumble in his chest. "So eager for more."

He rolled his hips, grinding against your sensitive clit as he began to move again, his strokes languid and deliberate.

"That's it, baby," he coaxed, his breath hot against your ear. "Give it to me. I wanna feel you fall apart on my cock."

Mattheo's words, his fingered squeezing your hips hard enough to bruise, the way he moved inside you—it all combined to push you closer and closer to the brink.

"Yes, oh god, yes!" you cried out, your voice high and urgent. "A-ah, don't stop, please don't stop!"

Your nails dug into Mattheo's back, scoring his skin as you arched up to meet his thrusts. The coil of tension inside you wound tighter and tighter, until finally, with a sharp cry, you shattered. Waves of ecstasy washed over you, your pussy clenching around Mattheo's still-moving cock as you came hard. His gaze softened as he stared down at you.

"Precious girl," he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly over your quivering lip. Slowly, he withdrew from your slick heat, allowing your tender folds to flutter closed around the departing intrusion.

Rolling onto your side, you tucked a pillow under your head and turned to face Mattheo, who was now propped up on one elbow, watching you with an unreadable expression.

"What does this mean, Mattheo?" you asked quietly, reaching out to trace a finger along the ridges of his abdomen. "For us, I mean. What happens now?"

Mattheo's gaze drifted from your face to the path of your wandering fingertip, a small, enigmatic smile playing on his lips. He reached out, capturing your hand in his and bringing it to rest over his heart, which thumped steadily beneath your palm.

"We’ll figure it out.”

kinktober taglist: @mattheoriddles-slutt @theeslutintheroom @esmerai-artemis @gigival @cloudyyydayzzz @sn000py @abeoavita @yesiamthatwierd @shaquilles-0atmeal @roseofsharron438 @iouinotes @romantasyreader28 @c3liaaaaa @sleepiibunniiii @chemtrailsoverhogwarts @daenerystorgaryen @catching-fire-in-the-wind @emma-grace0 @tori-303 @ilovehpb0ys

[tommydarlings]

take what’s yours and leave | t.w

pairing: toto wolff x reader

warnings: none

w/c: 0.8k

summary: after having another one of your infamous arguments with toto, you can’t take it anymore and tell him to take what’s his and leave, but you didn’t think that he would take your order that serious.

check this out: my masterlist <3 // my ko-fi to support me! <3 // my PayPal to support me! <3 // my Patreon to become a member! (get access to +65 works) // Save a Life carrd made by me! <3

You were fighting with toto… again.

The two of you were fighting regularly, always raising voices and walking away from each other and then back into each others arms again, this time it was different though.

He rolled the sleeves of his white dress shirt up and scoffed after you finished scolding him like a child, rolling his eyes at your behaviour, “Y/n, my love-”

“Don’t 'my love' me now, toto! I told you so many times already that you should give me a call or send me a quick message if you have to stay longer at the office at Mercedes! But every single damn time you just 'forget it' and let me sit here at home all alone and annoyed!” You spat up at the tall austrian.

Toto sighed and put his hands on his hips as he looked down at your angry figure, “I know, I know and I’m s-”

“Yeah, yeah you’re sorry, I know… I’ve heard this words a lot from you lately, toto,” you shook your head with a scoff, taking a few steps back from him, “I’m fucking tired of it, toto, I really am… you’re a grown man and you can’t manage to save some hours of your day for me…that’s sad if you ask me,” you shrugged.

Your older boyfriend ran his hands over his face, brushing his shirt hair back in the process, “baby, I know how fed up you are, but-”

“Then why do you keep-”

“Let me finish my sentence for once, okay?” He raised his voice a bit, making you gulp and look at the floor before he continued,

“But work is also very important to me, which doesn’t mean that you’re not important to me! Or that you’re less important! But I have responsibilities, my love, lots of tiring responsibilities that I need to take care of,” he told you in a calmer tone.

You cleared your throat and looked back up at him, “Then don’t be in a relationship if you’re work is exhausting,” you said angrily, still not being able to calm down.

Toto rolled his eyes and briefly let his head hung low at your comment, “You’re lack of understanding my work life is really unbelievable, isn’t it?” He looked at you from across the kitchen.

You chuckled and bit your lip, “my lack of understanding your work life?” You shook your head, “oh you got some balls, baby! I think your lack of acknowledging our relationship and the fact that you have something — or actually, someone, besides your stupid work life is unbelievably! No, it’s embarrassing!” You raised your voice as well and kept eye contact with your tall boyfriend.

Toto bit his inner cheek and shook his head, looking at the wall with crossed arms before he took a deep breath, “Now you’re speechless, huh? Because you know I’m right,” you added quickly.

The former racing driver raised his head and looked at you, “You know what?” You swiftly walked over to the modern door of your million dollar mansion and opened it, “take what’s yours and leave!”

You were furious, your blood was more than just boiling, you were really sick of him.

Toto scoffed again and bit his lip before a smirk made its way onto his face, making you furrow your browns in confusion.

Before you could even say anything, toto took long and quick steps towards you and swiftly picked you up, throwing you carelessly over his broad shoulder in a swift motion, giving you no time to protest.

You gasped and placed your palms onto his muscular back, “Toto, no! Let me down, what are you doing?” You asked him as his big, veiny hands squeezed your thighs,

“I'm doing what you told me to do, I'm taking what’s mine,” he told you calmly with — most probably — a cheeky smirk on his lips, making you almost — but only almost — laugh.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes before you let your head hung low, “Toto… you know that’s not what I meant, now let me down!” You continued protesting.

Your boyfriend only turned around and walked back to the kitchen, his big hand tightly holding the back of your thighs so you don’t fall.

He chuckled deeply, “what did you say, beautiful? I can’t hear you from back there,” the Austria joked wickedly, forcing you to roll your eyes once again.

“I said-”

But before you could repeat your sentence, toto swiftly threw your off of his broad shoulder and put you right in front of the countertop, making your back lean against it as he slowly placed bit of his palms on the countertop next to your hips, intimidatingly leaning in,

“What did you say? I’m sorry that I interrupted you, sweetheart… now you can go on,” he mumbled quietly, waiting for you to speak up.

But you only gulped as you looked io at him with big eyes, gently shaking your head, “N-No, everything’s fine,” you said softly.

“Are you sure, baby? Nothing you wanna say to me?” Toto continued whispering to you, leaning in a bit closer so that your nose was almost brushing his.

“N-Nope,” you replied almost nervously since he was so close.

He smirked before he took a step away from you again, “alright, if you say so, mein liebes,” my love.

[bruisedboys]

This celebration is ADORABLE! Finnick Odair with ❛ you’re welcome to stay, if you want. ❜

hi honey, thank you so much! join the celebration

finnick odair x fem!reader (r is implied to be a past victor)

You feel a bit silly standing at Finnick’s door in your pyjamas, your face damp with tears, bare feet sinking into the carpeted floor. The train hums beneath you, almost hypnotising. You’re a bad sleeper in general, but being on this train has resurfaced so many things you wish you could forget. You don’t know why you expected any better, but tonight’s been dreadful.

You’re not sure if Finnick will even answer the door. You want to try anyway because your heart won’t stop racing and he’s the only person you’d ever want to see at a time like this.

“Finnick?” You swallow around the thick lump in your throat and knock softly on his door. “It’s me.”

He’s at the door faster than you expected. Perhaps he was having as bad a night as you.

“Y/N?” Finnick blinks at you. His hair’s a mess, his shirt crumpled. “Hey. Sweetheart, what are you doing up?”

You blink away fresh tears that threaten to spill. “I’m— I can’t sleep,” you confess. Red hot embarrassment creeps up your neck like flames. “I’m really sorry I woke you.”

Finnick shakes his head. “No, no, don’t be,” he murmurs, a pinch between his brows. “It’s okay, honey, I get it. Did you want to come in?”

You nod silently. He encourages you in to sit on the end of his bed, letting the door shut behind you. You and Finnick, you have a strange relationship. You’re very close, he knows you inside out, has learnt all your secrets but one. You think you’re in love with him, and you really hope he feels the same, but you’re worried that sparkly hope is blinding you. Either way, he’ll do anything for you, which is why you’re here.

You sit on his bed, silent. Your chest feels tight, like someone’s gone and tied a knot with all your organs. Tears well in your eyes and you blink them away desperately.

Finnick moves to stand over you, tall and firm but buzzing with worry. He takes your face in his hands, achingly gentle.

“You wanna tell me what’s the matter?” He asks softly. He swipes at your lower lash line where fresh tears are starting to gather. “What’s made a pretty girl like you cry so much, hm?”

You’re so upset you miss his blatant flirting. You’ll remember it in the morning, though, and you won’t be able to look him in the eye for the rest of the day.

“I keep having these awful dreams,” you say, your voice a strained, weak thing. You take a deep breath, determined to get through telling Finnick what’s bothering you without crying. “I thought they’d gone away, but I guess being on this train, it’s all come flooding back. It’s horrible, Finnick. I don’t …”

Your voice breaks. Your face crumples. So much for not crying. The first of a fresh round of tears spill over Finnick’s hands. He makes a sad, pitying noise and wraps you up in a strong hug.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He encourages your head to his abdomen, seemingly not caring that your tears are quickly dampening his shirt. He rubs your back with a big, warm hand. “It’s okay.”

He lets you cry into his shirt for as long as you need. You know he knows there’s nothing much he can say. Not that he’s said already, anyway. You’re always gonna be haunted, always followed by the sharp bite of grief and guilt. Still, it’s nice to be understood. To be touched like he’s trying to hold all of the pieces of you together lest you crumble.

Finnick rubs your back diligently until the tears ebb and you’re breathing normally again. He pulls back and you miss his warmth. You wish he’d hold you forever. His hands feel grounding as he tilts your face up to look at him.

“You’re safe with me,” he tells you softly. “Yeah?”

You nod. Your head hurts. Your chest burns from crying so much and you’re bone-deep tired. Finnick must notice, because he strokes your cheek fondly.

“You’re tired, lovely girl?” It’s less of a question and more of a statement. His warm hand where it loves on your cheek is enough to send you to sleep. You feel very safe with him indeed. “You need sleep. You’re welcome to stay here, if you want. Would you like to?”

“If that’s okay,” you whisper hoarsely.

Finnick smiles, a soft pretty thing, enough to make your heavy heart soar. He chucks you under the chin fondly. “Of course it’s okay, sweetheart. I think we’ll both get a better sleep if you’re here with me.”

You’re too tired to ask what he means, but you can guess.

[unsolvedjarin]

I was going through a Charles video that mentioned him blacking out in the car at some point. Since I’m a sucker for angst, I was wondering what it would be like for mentor!Seb if it were the reader in that situation instead. Perhaps the season before the one he retires? And maybe we could see more of the reader’s friendship with Charles? Only if you feel inspired by it, of course.

Either way, thank you for sharing your fics with us. They are my favorites and I’m really grateful for having found your blog.

gif by luchitohamilton

EVERY UNIVERSE.

pairing: (mentor! sebastian vettel x ferrari driver! reader) (charles leclerc x teammate! reader)

summary: qatar is a difficult, hot, and taxing track. that along with you having food poisoning, well…that might not end too well for you. thankfully you can always rely on sebastian and charles to be there for you.

word count: 4k

note: can you guys tell i took inspo from mark webber throwing up in his car and the qatar race this year? it was so sad to watch everyone seem so tired especially lance and logan. anyways, the plot kinda got away from me at the end, i do apologize but the seb feels were too intense 😵‍💫

content warning: car crash, mentions of throwing up, inaccurate depictions of food poisoning

part of this series but can be read without!

“Ready?”

A familiar voice makes you turn around from your pre-race preparations. “Depends on what your definition of ready is.”

Charles smiles, “I know it’s our first race in Qatar but c’mon, it isn’t that bad.”

“Isn’t that bad? I might melt in the car! Doesn’t help that I almost missed this one because of food poisoning.”

“Ah yes, how could I forget that,” he teases. He couldn’t forget it, because you’d been complaining about it endlessly for the past three days. You had food poisoning because Mark Webber invited you to lunch on Thursday, and accidentally gave you something dodgy. You’ve yet to forgive the man. “Well at least you’re starting from P4. Lets you fight for P1, no?”

“Against Lewis and Charles? Please. In my dreams, maybe. Plus, you’re starting P3, asshole.” You retort, turning back around to put your balaclava on. The second it’s on your head, though, it gets pulled off, and you look behind you for the perpetrator. “Charles give it b– SEBASTIAN!”

The Aston Martin driver gives you a grin before hugging you tightly, lifting you off the ground a bit. You didn’t expect to see him before the race, but the surprise was definitely welcome.

“Oh but if it was me I would have gotten scolded,” Charles mutters, but his complaints were left unheard.

“Just came to wish you luck before the race starts. P4! You’re going to get a podium, I’m sure of it,” Sebastian beams, letting you go from the hug.

“That’s what Charles said too. He was more delusionally optimistic, though. Said I was gonna win.”

“Because I believe in you! Is that so bad?” Charles complains from the side, his comment ignored once again.

“Well maybe Charles is right— you could win. Meanwhile I’m starting in the midfield, again.” Sebastian complains, groaning a little bit.

“Oh cheer up Seb, you survived Ferrari for 6 years, you’ll live.”

He lights up a bit at your joke, moving to say something before an Aston Martin mechanic shows up outside the Ferrari garage. He wasn’t allowed inside, but it was obvious he was looking for Sebastian– who also wasn’t allowed inside, yet mysteriously got in. Nothing to do with him being friends with your mechanics of course, yeah, totally not.

“Ah shoot, well it looks like they’re looking for me,” Sebastian sighs. He starts to walk away before he pauses and moves back towards you, “Hey, stay safe, okay? New track, it’s dangerous. I know we’ve done practice and quali but you can never be too careful. Plus, it’s sweltering hot. Hydrate.”

You roll your eyes fondly, “Yes, dad.”

His face scrunches up a little, “Don’t ever call me that again, I’m not that old.”

“You could barely work my Instagram the other day! All I asked was for you to open Lewis’ stories!”

“Psh, whatever. I have to go, see you after the race, yeah?” He asks, giving your arm a quick squeeze. You nod, murmuring a goodbye to him. He wishes Charles good luck too, before saving his engineer from the Ferrari mechanics blocking him.

“So he can pull your balaclava off– which you hate, by the way, let me remind you– but if I even try adjusting your helmet straps so it’s safer you slap me off?” Charles speaks up, making you break eye contact from the Ferrari garage doors.

You roll your eyes at him with a smile, “You have got to forget that. It was one time. And it was a soft slap to the shoulder!”

“The point still stands,” he retorts, making you give up on the conversation.

“Whatever, Charlie. Just get ready for the race. Stay safe, okay?” you say, putting your balaclava on again. He gives you a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving, a sign of good luck between the two of you. It makes you smile a little before you hop into your car.

Okay. Qatar. New track, new conditions, but still the same old you. You could do this.

The lights go off one by one, and you grip the steering wheel with anticipation like you always did. Race starts still made you nervous no matter how long you’d been racing. One light goes off…then the next…then the third…the fourth one follows…and then…

“AND IT’S LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO!”

The first few laps were a breeze, maintaining your position in fourth despite Fernando being on your tail the whole time. You noticed the car was slightly hotter than usual, but decided to ignore it and chalk it up to new changes in the engine.

Around lap 25 you started to feel a bit dizzy and sick during the sharp corners, cursing yourself internally for having such bad timing with the food poisoning. “Charles is 0.200 seconds ahead, feel free to overtake,” your engineer buzzes through the radio.

“Copy,” you reply, not really paying attention, still feeling sick. You overtake Charles with ease around the outside, him not putting up much of a fight because it would have taken both of you out. Now you just had to maintain this position for…dear god, 32 laps.

“Lewis 5 seconds ahead, focus on tire degradation instead.” Your engineer’s warning goes unheard, though, as you noticed the cockpit was getting way too fucking hot.

“The car’s burning up,” you say into your radio, getting only a simple “Copy, we are checking,” back.

“Okay, Y/N there are no problems with your engines, I repeat; no problem.”

What? That’s impossible. You felt like you were melting in there. “Are you sure? Can you ask Charles if his car feels like the sun too?”

“Negative, focus on the race.”

Oh you were going to kill them one day– if they don’t kill you first. A few more laps passed in those horrible conditions before turn 5 rolled around and as you swerved your car, you started to see black spots around your vision.

That can’t be good, you think, having to close your eyes for a second before shaking your head and snapping yourself back into the race. Thankfully Charles had pitted earlier and had a 3 second gap to you. “I don’t feel too well.”

“Copy. Is it the car?”

“Well it’s definitely part of the problem.”

The next few turns were torture, your head bobbing around as you faded in and out of consciousness through the fast corners. Charles was catching up now, and you knew if you didn’t do something soon, he would pass you.

You wanted this podium. You needed it. If you got P3 you would grab P4 on driver standings.

There was a slow corner coming up that was a good overtaking spot, and so you had to defend.

As the turn came around– faster than you expected– the extreme heat of the car, your headache, sweat, food poisoning, and dizziness came together and you suddenly felt light, as if you were flying, before a jolt knocked you out of your consciousness completely.

You were out for less than a minute, but that minute counted for everything. You completely turned into Charles, him having to swerve onto the gravel just so you wouldn’t crash into each other. Your car, however, still had more speed in it, and you were headed towards the wall on the very far side of the gravel.

Thankfully, the rough rocks had shook you awake enough that you were able to swerve away from the wall extremely last minute and only take the tail and back wheel of your car out.

The next few seconds were a blur.

You still felt faint, but could hear a muffled voice headed towards you. You knew the back of your car was completely ruined and you were out of the race, and you put your helmet in your hands in disappointment. You were having such a good run before this happened. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The muffled voice running towards you was closer now, and you registered it to be Charles. He was saying something but you could barely hear him with how your ears were ringing and how the seat of the car was still hot.

The man quickly realized you weren’t hearing him, and opted to come closer and lift your visor up. “Smoke. Car. Get out!”

He didn’t need to tell you twice. You pushed yourself up but barely, Charles having to lift you up by your shoulders. Once out of the car you completely collapsed on the floor, only having your teammate catch you.

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” you say drowsily, still fighting the urge to pass out.

“Safety car is coming, stay with me now,” he replies, tapping your helmet so you stay awake. You were grateful your friend was there with you.

On track, however, Sebastian had just been informed of what went down. “What the fuck? What happened?”

“L/N completely turned into Leclerc. Driver error, push on for P9.”

Sebastian hated how his engineer sounded like a robot reporting a technical statistic. He saw the aftermath of the accident for a split second, and it didn’t look like your car was in good shape. He worries about what shape you were in. “Are they okay?”

“Safety car is coming out for L/N and to crane the car, but other than that they seem fine.”

“Injuries?”

“Please focus on the race, Sebastian.”

“INJURIES!” he shouts into his radio, annoyed. He wouldn’t be able to focus on the race until he knew you were alright.

“Uh…L/N seems to be out of it and on the floor, but they’re okay. They’ll be fine, Seb.” His engineer adds the last statement to reassure the man. He knew you meant a lot to him. Seb nods to himself in the car, carrying on with the race. The faster this finished the faster he could get to you.

The safety car came out and they all slowed down, Sebastian finally being able to take a second long look at the accident. Your car was still there, the smoke coming out of it being extinguished by a personnel. Sebastian thinks he ought to have a word with the Ferrari mechanics after the race. He then notices you, on your knees in the gravel, only being kept up by a driver he can only assume to be Charles. Sebastian thinks that should be him there supporting you, but at the same time he’s glad he wasn’t the one who you nearly crashed into. He couldn’t have it on his consciousness that he could have hit you.

“‘m sorry for ruining your race,” you mumble, still being held up by Charles. The man shakes his head, “It was ruined before that, don’t worry. My engine was acting up.”

You knew he was lying to make you feel better, his engine was completely fine. He was headed for the podium earlier, his first in a while. And you completely botched his chance to get it. The thought makes you sob a little, along with the fact that you ruined your own race.

Crying wasn’t the greatest thing to do, though, as it only made you more lightheaded. Charles notices this and takes your helmet off for you, despite your protests pre-race. You were grateful that he did, though, as the second he took your helmet and balaclava off you felt like you had a breath of fresh air for the first time.

“Better?”

You nod, unable to speak. You still felt dizzy and sick. Charles felt annoyed that the safety personnel were taking so long to get to you, waving them over to walk quicker. Squinting your eyes a little, you find them with some health personnels, and you sink a little lower into the gravel.

“God not again,” you groan, remembering the events that unfolded back in Spa. You did not need to go to the medical tent. As you attempt to get up, however, you fall back down as your vision blurred. Looks like medical tent it is again.

The rest of the race went particularly well. Lewis won the race and Fernando got his first podium since 2014– which you reminded yourself to congratulate him for once you were out of the medical tent– and Seb ended up P9, a position higher than where he started. That would usually be a mediocre result but with his shitty car, you were pretty impressed.

“Water?” A familiar voice makes you look away from the TV screen in the room. Charles sat beside your bed, holding a plastic bottle of water. You nod and take it from him, chugging the cool liquid down.

“Sorry again for ruining your race,” you say as you finish drinking. Charles shakes his head, “Stop apologizing. You passed out, that was no fault of yours.”

“You passed out!?” A loud concerned voice makes both of you snap your head towards the door of the room. Sebastian stood there, still in his race suit like the both of you, a shocked look on his face.

“Is that what happened? You passed out mid race?” He asks again, but this time softer. He walks towards your medical bed– which you insisted you didn’t need– before putting his hand on your forehead to check if you had a fever. The action makes you giggle, but Sebastian had a serious look that shut you up quickly.

He shakes his head with a sigh, “You have a bit of a fever.”

“Any other fun observations?”

Sebastian didn’t seem to be in the mood for your wit, though. “You could have been injured. Just a few meters and you could have fully hit the wall. If you were just a few seconds late waking up you would have–”

He shuts his eyes and stops himself. He didn’t want to think about what could have happened anymore. His voice got wobbly during the end of his statement, making you realize that he was stopping himself from crying. You absentmindedly sit up and reach for his hand, squeezing it gently.

“I’m here, Seb. And I’m fine. Look at me.”

The older driver does, slowly opening his eyes. You squeeze his hand a second time, a soft smile on your lips. “I’m here. And look, I’m completely fine. You’re not getting rid of me that quickly old man.”

Seb lets out a chuckle at that, moving to hug you tightly.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he mumbles into your hair. “Why did you even pass out?”

“I was already a little dizzy before getting in the car because of the heat but I tried ignoring it. The car was overheating too and it made me dehydrated, I think. My drink pouch wasn’t a lot of help either when the water was steaming hot. Plus…” you trail off, not really wanting to talk ill of Webber.

“Mark gave her food poisoning when he took her to lunch,” Charles butted in, making you give him a look. You forgot he was in the room.

“Mark? As in Webber?” Sebastian asks, Charles nodding in response. “The bastard.”

“Oh c’mon Seb, he just wanted to treat me to lunch. It’s not like he poisoned my food on purpose.”

Seb sighs deeply before agreeing, “You’re right. Sorry. I’m just– I don’t know.”

“I get it. I mean, this is my second time at the medical tent in three months. Makes you think how accident prone I am,” you joke. Sebastian laughs, and you’re glad you got the worried look in his face away.

“The one in Spa was completely your fault, but we may have to pin this one on Mark,” Seb teases. You shoot him a grin, “Yeah, we can say that.”

Before you could talk more, though, a PR person from both Ferrari and Aston Martin came in to fetch Charles and Sebastian.

“What about me?” you ask, getting up from your bed. It wasn’t like you were injured or anything, you were just a little sick and had a bit of a stomach ache. You’d already thrown up earlier, so you felt pretty normal now.

“Sorry, we have orders to keep you here.”

You scoff, “Please. What can they do if I walk out?”

Before the Ferrari PR agent could reply, though, you were already out the room. She stands there helpless, making Sebastian and Charles chuckle to each other before following you. You were always stubborn when you wanted to be.

The second you’re out of the medical tent, camera flashes overwhelm your eyes. You walk past them as you always do, but the contrast of the light to the night sky makes you a bit lightheaded again, having to hold Sebastian’s arm for support. He moves your hand from his arm to his own hand, interlocking it with yours and pull you through the crowd. There were no words needed to be said, he always knew what you needed. You’re starting to think he can read minds.

Once past the annoying lot of cameras, you make it to the media pen where at least they pestered you in a more civil way. The interviewers were all over you and Charles, looking for some inside scoop on ‘Ferrari drama.’ Turns out, the media thought you tried to purposely take Charles out a la brocedes style. Because of this you had to clarify to every person you talked to that, “No, I did not try to take Charles out on purpose. I passed out. We’re good. Yes, we’re still friends.”

Once that was all over, you headed over to the Channel 4 area to give a certain someone a piece of your mind. “Mark Webber.”

The man turns around to the mention of his full name, smiling when he notices who it is. “Y/N! Glad you’ve come and joined us! We’re on in about five minutes, we can do a segment about the crash but if you wanna talk about something else on screen that’s fine too, we can–”

“You gave me food poisoning!” you butt in. “I cannot believe you.” His coworkers give him a look, as if they were holding in a laugh at him being scolded.

Mark stands there with his mouth agape, unsure what to say. “Wasn’t that three days ago? Are you sure it’s me?”

Rolling your eyes, you reply, “Yes, I’m sure it’s you. It started three days ago, and guess who I was with when I ate something unusual three days ago? Oh right, it’s you!”

He pauses for a moment before bursting into laughter, trying to cover his mouth to no avail. “Sorry, it’s not funny that you almost crashed, I’m glad you’re safe, but– ha!– I cannot believe it was because of the dodgy Indian food!”

You gave him a shove, trying to act mad, but the smile on your face betrayed you. His laughter was contagious. “You are such an asshole.”

“Awh cheer up,” he gives you a side hug, ruffling your hair a little. “Sorry for giving you food poisoning, mate. I’ll make it up to you, whaddya think about lunch on me tomorrow?”

You escape his side hug when you hear him say that, “Absolutely not! I’m never trusting you again with food recommendations.”

The statement makes him laugh again, and you chuckle along with him. Hard to be mad at someone who didn’t do it on purpose. Sebastian walked over to the two of you, having watched the interaction from afar.

“Look who’s coming over,” Mark mumbled, making you notice Seb trying to pretend to just ‘bump’ into the two of you. “Still competitive ‘till now, eh? Don’t worry, I’m not trying to out-mentor you,” Mark says out loud, grabbing the attention of the German.

Seb tilts his head with a faux oblivious look, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He grabs you by the arm and ‘discreetly’ pulls you over to his side. ‘No idea’ my ass.

The Australian scoffs with a grin, “Whatever you say mate. Listen, I gotta get back because our feed is going live in a few minutes, but you two take care, alright? Nice to see you again Seb.”

“You too, Mark.” Sebastian replies, this time genuinely. While the media knew the two drivers were now on good terms, they didn’t know just how close they had gotten. The two went bowling at least once every two months just to catch up with each other, you being there for half their competitions– yes, they still competed. Apparently that sense of wanting to beat your former teammate does not go away. So far this year, Mark’s been winning.

Before Mark completely walked away, he looked back at you for a second, “Oh, and, I am happy you got out injury free from that nasty crash. Genuinely glad you’re okay. Sorry that my dodgy food contributed to your sickness.”

You wave him off, “It’s fine, Mark. It’s not like you could’ve known I would get food poisoning. Although, next time maybe check online reviews.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he smiled, waving you a goodbye as he ran to his coworkers who were already getting impatient.

You shake your head with a grin, “Well at least that’s over with.”

Sebastian slings his arm around your shoulder, “True. So want to get dinner?”

“Absolutely not. I think I’m done with food for a good while.”

“Well you have to eat something,” he insists, as you both walk through the paddock. “How about we get room service?”

“Eh, it’s late, I don’t really want a repeat of Monaco 2019.”

Monaco 2019 was when you and Seb got room service at 10pm because you didn’t check the time. Safe to say the staff weren’t very happy with that. You both felt so bad while eating that food.

“We can just get McDonalds then,” you suggest.

“McDonalds?” Charles asks, popping out from god knows where.

“Jesus, where the hell were you hiding? The atoms?” You ask.

“I was here the whole time.”

“You were not,” Sebastian comments. Charles simply shrugs, tagging along with the two of you, not caring that he was obviously third wheeling a moment. “So McDonalds?”

You roll your eyes, “Yes, McDonalds. But you’re paying because you’re tagging along.”

“No fair! Sebastian is richer than me!”

You both give Charles a look at the same time. Charles thinks it’s eerie how alike the two of you were.

“Charles,” Sebastian starts, patting the Monegasque’s back with one arm with his other still slung around your shoulders. Your accident made him very clingy, but you weren’t about to tell him that. “Let me phrase this as nicely as I can; you are from Monaco. You are rich.”

Charles lets out a sigh, “Fine. I’ll buy the food.”

You clap, “Fuck yeah! Food on the rich man!”

“We have the same salary in our contracts?”

“Shh, that’s not important,” you say, shushing Charles. “Food on the rich man! Although, we may have to go to the hotel right after and just get take out. I can feel Mark’s Indian food from three days ago still fighting with me.”

Charles is the one to roll his eyes this time, “I’ll get the car so we can get there faster, your highness.”

“Thank you, Lord Perceval.”

“Don’t call me that!” he shouts, already walking away to the parking lot.

That left you and Sebastian alone again, just enjoying the company of one another, walking slowly down the paddocks. There were few people now, most having gone back to their hotels to call it a night.

“You know, I’m glad I found you.”

The words make you look up at the older driver, who you find smiling at you. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean obviously we would find each other, there’s only so many drivers in Formula One. But I mean I’m glad I found you in this life.”

“Do you think we don’t find each other in other lives?”

Sebastian pauses and thinks for a second. He’s thought about the other career paths he could have taken throughout his life– other lives he could have lived. He knows there’s no logical way, but he thinks he still would have found you in those lives. The thought makes him smile to himself.

“No, I think we do.”

“Well then good. Because me too,” you reply, giving him a smile of your own. “Why did you suddenly think about it though?”

Sebastian shrugs, “I don’t know. I just felt suddenly sentimental. Feels like a chapter of my life closed but I’m not sure what or why.”

Little did he know that he would start contemplating retirement a few weeks after that.

“Oh well, it doesn’t matter. Whether we find each other in other lifetimes, I mean.”

Seb raises his eyebrow, him now being the one confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean we’re both here now. Enjoying each other’s company. Why bother thinking about versions of ourselves in other universes when we’ve got each other in this one?”

Sebastian gives you the most genuine, softest smile at that. “I love you, I don’t tell you that enough.”

You scrunch your face, “Ew. Sounds like a love confession. Sorry but you’re too old for me.”

“You know what I mean. I love you but not in that way. That’s just gross,” Sebastian says, hitting your shoulder.

“Relax old man, I’m just teasing,” you giggle, trying to avoid his hit. “Love you too. Ew. Sorry, not great with verbal affection. Pretty sure that just made me throw up a bit, and that’s not even with the help of the food poisoning.”

Sebastian just shakes his head, “Okay c’mon now, Charles will be annoyed with how slow we’re walking.”

Later that night, the three of you watched a cheesy romcom while sharing a shit load of fries and chicken nuggets. As you carried on through the night you thought to yourself that despite the hardships of F1, the crashing, the disappointments, the injuries– it brought you a second family you never thought you’d have. And you wouldn’t trade it for any other universe.

Although, maybe a universe where you didn’t get food poisoning.

[moonstruckme]

Hi luv, can I request something?

I was thinking about a poly!wolfstar x fem!reader where reader is feeling down because of her period but don’t wanna tell the boys bc she’s embarrassed. But she ends up acting all sad and the boys are really worried, thinking they did something wrong, and when they finally find out the truth they try to comfort her? A little angst with fluff ending, lots of cuddles. Only if you feel comfortable writing it, of course!

I love your writing, btw

Thanks for requesting lovely!

cw: period sadness

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 971 words

“She’s moping,” Sirius whispers, arms crossed and dark brows bunched. He’s leaning back against the counter, having followed Remus into the kitchen to ‘help make the popcorn’. Two fingers tap restlessly on his bicep. 

Remus watches the movement, pensive. “She might’ve just had a rough day,” he says back. The sound of popcorn in the microwave works to cover his voice. “I think she’d tell us if we’d done something to upset her.”

He gets where Sirius is coming from. You’ve seemed a tad dimmer than usual, mumbly and perhaps a bit tired. But Sirius is quick to worry, and he has a nose for tension that occasionally sniffs it out when it’s not really there. 

“She might not.” Sirius is doing that thing where he looks and sounds angry when really he’s worried. Remus leans over to kiss his hair. 

“She’s better than us,” he reassures him, taking the popcorn from the microwave and leading the way back into the living room. 

You’re huddled up in one corner of the couch, blanket pulled tight around you and eyes looking to nowhere. You perk up a little when Remus shakes some of the popcorn into a bowl and sets it in your lap. 

“Thanks,” you say. 

“Course. Did you pick a film?” 

“I started to, but…” You shrug, passing the remote to Sirius as he sits down next to you. “You guys can pick, I don’t really care what we watch.” 

Sirius sends Remus a look. See? Remus frowns. He’s still not convinced you’re upset with them, specifically, but your upset in general is hard to deny. 

It’s unsettling to have you glum like this. He and Sirius have always been prone to their moods, but you’re…not, so much. It’s not that you never have a bad day, of course, they try to give you the environment to feel whatever you like. They’ve just not seen you like this before, obviously upset but seemingly with no cause. 

Sirius picks one of your favorite films anyway. The intro credits start, and ordinarily, this would be the part where you lean onto your other side and cozy up to him, but you don’t. You stay curled up in your corner, eyes at half-mast and pretty face impassive. 

The sweet bit of skin between Sirius’ brows is marred by a dent. 

Remus is sitting in the armchair adjacent to your side of the couch. He reaches across the space for your hand. With so overt a request, you give it to him, looking a touch bemused. He holds your gaze, sweeping his thumb over your knuckles. 

“Are you alright?” 

You blink. “Me?” When Remus doesn’t look away, you shrink slightly, shoulders pulling up towards your ears. “I’m fine, yeah. Are you?” 

“Oh, how crafty,” Sirius drawls. “Redirect the question, we’ll never see through that.” 

You smile cautiously. “Way to make me asking my boyfriend how he is seem nefarious.” 

Sirius’ answering grin is sharp, but Remus can see the anxiety beneath it. “You’re not as subtle as you think, babe. Why don’t you tell us what’s got you so twisted up, huh?” 

Just like that, you shut down again. You pull your hand from Remus’, fixing your eyes on the TV. “I’m not twisted up,” you say. 

“Dovey,” Remus says softly. When you look at him, your expression is controlled but your gaze is tentative. “Have we done something to upset you?” 

“What?” A line forms between your brows, a companion for Sirius’. “No, you’ve—you’re perfect.” 

“Well, I like to think so,” Sirius agrees breezily, “but you’re obviously not happy with us. It’d help if you’d just say what it is, so apologies and amends can commence. Unless it’s that I left the toilet paper roll empty again, in which case I can only say that you knew what you were getting into when you moved in.” 

His feeble attempt at levity doesn’t make much of a dent in your creased expression, though you do tilt up one side of your mouth as though to commend him for his effort. 

“I’m not upset with either of you,” you say slowly. Your tone carries a hue of resignation. “I promise, if I was mad I would say.” 

Now it’s Remus’ turn to look at Sirius. See? But Sirius looks even more troubled, as though he can’t fathom what could be wrong in your life if it’s not him. 

“You are upset, though,” Remus says softly. “What’s wrong?” 

You sigh, the sound heavy with that unidentified melancholy, and Sirius seems to feel secure enough now to drop a kiss on your shoulder. “Nothing’s wrong,” you reply, defeated. “I’m just in a mood because of my period, sorry. I don’t mean to be a bother.” 

Remus coos, reaching across the gap again to pet your baby hairs. 

Sirius leans into your side. “You?” he asks, kissing your shoulder again. “Never. Why didn’t you say, lovebug?” 

You shrug. You seem to be slumping deeper into the couch with every affectionate touch, your body relaxing. “It’s a bit embarrassing. I don’t want to be acting all sad just because my hormones are going funny.” 

“You’re not just acting sad if you are actually sad,” Remus points out. “Is your stomach hurting you?” 

“Not really.” You shift your weight so you’re leaning into Sirius, too. He looks about as happy as he can be when someone he loves is hurting, bottom lip pushed out as he rubs your shoulder and smooshes his cheek into the top of your head. “Just sad.” 

“D’you wanna watch something happy, sweetheart?” Sirius asks, voice dripping with a syrupy sweetness. “Or something sad, to cry it out?” 

You shrug again. “Maybe just a little sad? Like The Perks of Being a Wallflower.” 

“That’s only a little sad to you? Shit, baby, you’re tough as nails.”

[gggukniverse]

self fulfillment needs | myg

title: self fulfillment needs

pairing: yoongi x reader (+ implied jungkook x reader)

series: basic needs !!!

genre: m, smut, roommates au

summary: two weeks after the kitchen incident where you had sex with your roommate while your other roommate watched you, things seem the same as always but also not the same at all. you try to approach the subject to only cause a fight and another sexual encounter.

warnings: dom!yoongi, sub!reader, yoongi is bi, jungkook is confused my baby :(, sexual tension, dirty talk, she actually tries to dom yoongi at first but... haha, fingering, unprotected sex (pls be safe), a lil edging, hair pulling, teasing, yoongi himself is a warning, choking, face slapping, praising, degradation, he calls reader a slut, begging, spanking, p*ssy slapping, yoongi has a... piercing 🥴, they talk abt jk during sex, mentions of yoongi x jungkook, yoongi is so sweet after sex i'm sad :(

wordcount: 8.8k

note: hi !!! i'm back !! first of all, this is the second part to basic needs so please read that first because you're probably not gonna understand half of this chapter. omg guys this chapter is insane i cant even look at myself in the mirror after writing all of that. i'm still not convinced if it turned out okay, it could've been a lot better, but i hope you enjoy it !!!

-

-

-

it’s been two weeks since the kitchen incident. and things have been weird.

it’s kind of a tricky situation because yoongi and jungkook act just the same as always towards you, like that night never happened in the first place. you find it troubling at first but you soon realize you wouldn’t even know how to approach them about what you did in that kitchen so you just let things flow. the problem is how they act around each other.

you wouldn’t consider yourself being extremely close to them, but with over two years of living together you’ve obviously come to know their dynamic. and you know they’re friends, you’re pretty sure they have different friend groups but you know they are friends and they get along way better than you do with any of them. that’s why you quickly catch on the weird vibe there seems to be between them now.

you’re used to waking up in the morning and finding them having breakfast in the kitchen together while talking about things you don’t really understand, but these days you walk into the kitchen first thing in the morning and don’t find any of them there. and it’s not just about breakfast, it’s about the weird tension between them when you see them bumping in the corridor, the excuses they make up not to be in the living room with you at the same time and the moments you see yoongi trying to make up conversation and jungkook just hums or gives a cold answer before leaving the room.

the worst thing is that your brain tells you it must be your fault. because it must be, right? before the kitchen incident everything was just fine but now that can barely stay in the same room for more than 2 minutes together.

and you don’t mean to snap at them but you can’t stop yourself from doing it one specific morning.

“what the hell is wrong with you two?”

the initial response you get is jungkook choking on his cereal and yoongi turning away from the coffee machine to look at you with such a surprised expression you guess he didn’t expect you to say that.

“what?” jungkook is the first one to talk as he wipes at his chin with a napkin.

“no, don’t try to act dumb now,” you tell him and hear yoongi snort. “you’ve been acting weird as fuck for the past two weeks and i’m so tired of it.”

“i’m not acting weird.” yoongi mumbles as he goes back to the coffee machine.

“i’m not acting weird either-”

“yes you are.” yoongi cuts jungkook off right away.

“hyung, c’mon...”

“you can’t even look at me since that night.” yoongi says but doesn’t raise his voice, he’s not trying to fight.

“i can look at you just fine.” jungkook replies and yoongi just scoffs.

“okay, jungkook.” yoongi hums completely unbothered.

“you’re communicating like 12 year olds,” you say when you’ve had enough and they both look at you again. “if something happened that night to cause all of this you should at least talk about it instead of avoiding each other.”

“nothing happened that night.” jungkook mutters as he finishes his breakfast.

“it sure looks like something happened.” you cross your arms and lean against the door frame.

“jungkookie is too ashamed of what he did that night.” yoongi says and pours the finished coffee in his mug.

you feel a pang in your chest so you look at jungkook with a cocked eyebrow for an explanation.

he is ashamed of that night?

“no!” jungkook looks panicked. “i don’t- i... it’s not like that.” he keeps stuttering and you don’t know what to say. maybe you should’ve considered the chance of them regretting it.

“she doesn’t need any type of reassurance, jungkook,” yoongi speaks again. “we both know she’s not the one you’re having trouble with.”

“hyung.” jungkook says like he’s warning him about something you don’t really understand.

“jungkook.” yoongi replies with the same tone but he currently looks much more calm than jungkook.

“can any of you explain what is happening?” you say in confusion and jungkook just looks down at his almost empty bowl while yoongi turns around to face you with a hand gripping the counter behind him and grabbing his coffee mug with the other.

“jungkook’s never messed around with another boy and now he’s acting like he’s committed a crime.” yoongi explains and you turn to jungkook when you hear him sigh.

“i’m not gay.” he mutters, still not looking up from his cereal.

“i’m not gay either,” yoongi replies like jungkook has said the most stupid thing he’s ever heard. “do you know what being bi means?”

“i’m not bi either.” jungkook replies.

yoongi snorts. “okay.”

“hyung.”

“i just swallowed your cum, you’re acting like i fucked you in the ass.” yoongi snaps and you have to slap your hand over your mouth to hide the gasp that threatens to slip out.

“you touched me too.” jungkook mumbles.

“and now you’re gonna say that you hated it, right?” yoongi scoffs and jungkook gets quiet. “jungkook, you almost came in my hand.”

“shut the fuck up!” jungkook snaps, finally looking up at yoongi with what you think is supposed to be an angry expression but in your opinion he just looks cute. and you guess yoongi might think the same.

“or what?” yoongi replies with a cocked eyebrow. jungkook doesn’t respond, just grabs his now empty bowl and walks to the sink, leaving it there before walking out of the kitchen.

and thank god because you were gonna drown in the fucking sexual tension if they stayed together in the same room for 5 more seconds.

“sheesh...” you whisper and walk to the counter to grab an apple.

“i don’t even know why you tried to do anything.” yoongi mumbles against his coffee mug before giving it a sip.

“you know it’s not his fault to be a little confused, right?” you tell him and sit on the chair jungkook was just sitting at. “you were kind of an asshole right now.” you admit and he sighs, putting his blue mug down on the counter.

“i’m not mad because he’s confused, he has all of the right to go through that, all of us do.” yoongi clarifies and you hum before giving your apple a bite. “what bothers me is that he can’t even look at me since that night.” he says, his voice quieter this time.

“yeah... i know.” you nod because you’ve obviously noticed.

yoongi sighs. “did i ruin everything with him?” you hate how worried he looks. of course yoongi cares about him. after all, jungkook is his friend and you can’t imagine how tough it must be for him to feel like he’s losing his friend.

“you didn’t, yoongi.” you answer his question because you really mean it. “i just think he needs some time to think.”

“thinking is what made him start acting like this, he looked perfectly fine that night.” yoongi tells you. “what he has to do is talk about it, but he won’t because he’s stubborn as shit.”

“yoongi.”

“he’s my friend, i can insult him.” he says and you can’t help but chuckle. “but seriously, he should talk about all of what he’s been bottling up. he’s probably been thinking about that night for all of these past days.”

“he’s not the only one,” you blurt out without even thinking and you can feel your cheeks heat up as soon as you look at yoongi and see a smirk growing on his face. “leave me alone.” you tell him before he can tease you about it.

“i didn’t say anything,” you can hear the smirk in his voice. “but i’ve been thinking about it too so don’t look so embarrassed.” he mumbles like it’s nothing as he puts his mug in the sink.

“you have?” you ask quietly. you don’t really know why but you thought he would’ve already moved on from it, that’s why this is surprising.

“y/n, c’mon.” he chuckles like your question is the stupidest thing he’s ever heard, like the answer is obvious.

you’re about to reply, not really know what exactly, but jungkook is on the door again. he’s changed from his pajamas into some black sweatpants and a big hoodie, the hood over his head to probably cover his messy hair.

“where are you going?” you ask him. a stupid question really. at this point of quarantine people can only really leave for specific jobs or to do the groceries, and since the three of you work from home you can only suppose he’s going to do the groceries.

you turn out to be right when he walks into the kitchen and picks the little piece of paper with the list of groceries before putting it in the pocket of his hoodie. “the groceries,” he replies either way and looks at you. “do you need anything else?” he asks and you notice the way he completely ignores if yoongi wants anything too but decide not to say anything.

“not really,” you shake your had and he hums. “thanks, kook.”

jungkook nods in response and leaves the kitchen without saying another word, not even sparing yoongi a glance. just a couple of seconds later you can hear the front door opening and closing.

“he’s so...” yoongi sighs as you give your apple the last bite.

“so what?” you stand up to walk to the trash can and throw the apple. he doesn’t answer. “you wanna fuck him so bad.” you tease him.

“maybe.” he hums and you look at him, he’s just mindlessly scrolling down his phone.

you sigh and hop on the counter, swinging your legs as you think of ways to comfront him about that night. but your mouth ends up being faster than your brain.

“what did you mean?” you ask and see him putting his phone down to pay attention to you.

“what?” it just hits you now how intimidating his gaze is so you look down at your lap before speaking again.

“have you really been thinking about that night?” your voice is a little more quiet now.

“of course.” he replies like it’s the easiest question he’s ever gotten.

“okay, but like... in a good or bad way?”

when you don’t get an answer you look up at yoongi and find him pursing his lips in deep thought, like he’s calculating the words to say.

“so we’re finally talking about this.” he says.

“you don’t want to?”

“i thought you didn’t,” yoongi replies. “you didn’t address it the next morning and both you and jungkook kind of looked mortified so i didn’t pressure you into talking, i thought you wanted to forget about it.”

“i mean,” you start, trying to find the words to explain. “i kinda wanted to forget,” yoongi hums for you to keep talking. “because i felt so... weird? no, not weird. i felt-”

“uncomfortable?”

“no.”

“regretful?”

“no,” you shake your head again. “ugh, i don’t know how to explain it. i just couldn’t believe i did that, i felt a little... dirty.” you admit and god, it is so embarrassing.

“you are,” yoongi replies with a little smirk that makes you want to jump on him. jesus christ, you’re so fucked. “no, but seriously- i understand,” he says, smirk completely gone. “you could’ve talked to me though.”

“i didn’t know if you wanted to talk about it,” you explain with the annoying feeling that your cheeks are heating up again. “and since you didn’t talk about it either i thought you regretted it or something...” you mumble and yoongi’s jaw almost drops to the floor.

“what are you talking about?” he frowns, seemingly offended by what you said.

“you don’t regret it?” you ask shyly.

“the only thing i regret is not fucking you too.”

holy shit.

you could have a gun pressed to the back of your head right now and still wouldn’t admit the way your whole body feels like it’s been set on fire just from one stupid sentence.

“you- you can’t say stuff like that.” you mutter and have the decency to look at him even if you’re red as a tomato because you know he’s gonna know either way. because yoongi is a menace.

“why not?” he cocks an eyebrow. and fuck, he’s so hot you don’t understand how the hell you didn’t realize until now.

“because.” you reply because you don’t know what to say.

“no way you’re getting shy now...” yoongi chuckles as he walks to you.

“leave me alone.” you whine in protest and reach to him with your hand to softly slap his face. you do it in a playful way, your hand barely brushing against his cheek, but yoongi’s smirk completely disappears and something in your stomach twists in fear.

“do that again.” his voice is so fucking low all of the sudden, like he’s challenging you, and you don’t know if you’re scared or turned on.

“i- i’m sorry, did i hurt you?” of course the most stupid question you could’ve asked in a moment like this is the first thing that comes out of your mouth.

yoongi only shakes his head. “i said do that again,” he repeats and takes the final step towards you to stand right in front of you. “harder.”

you gulp. your whole body feels too hot, your clothes are starting to feel uncomfortable. yoongi is too close and you’re sure he’s devouring you with his eyes.

“yoongi.” you try to say something but you don’t know what you can really say.

you’ve never hit anyone. well, maybe one time a couple of years ago when a guy didn’t stop bothering you at a club when you just wanted to dance with your friends. you’ve never hit anyone this way.

does yoongi like this? is he really one of those people?

“i don’t wanna hurt you.” you mumble and feel stupid right after.

“i like it when it hurts,” yoongi replies and you have to bite your lip not to moan. “i’m asking you to do it, so just-”

the sound of the slap echoes in the quiet kitchen and you stare at yoongi with panic growing in your chest and a weird itch on the palm of your hand, the one you haven’t even put down yet from how shocked you are that you just slapped yoongi. his head is turned to the side from the slap and you can see the little reddened skin on his cheek before he turns back to you.

“i’m so sorr-”

you never get to properly apologize because the words die down your throat the second yoongi’s lips collide against yours. you immediately kiss him back and hum against his mouth when he wraps his arms around your body, moving closer to stand between your legs and pulling you as close as he can to his body. your arms are soon wrapping around his neck too and you completely lose yourself in the kiss.

he kisses you like he’s missed you. like he’s been wanting, needing to kiss you again for these past two weeks. and you’re no better, you kiss him back with the same hunger and desperation because you now realize just how bad you needed him.

“fuck,” he mumbles between kisses and you hum in response, not daring to pull away when it feels so good. “can’t stop thinking about you.”

“yoongi...” you whine while one of yoongi’s hands goes up and down your thigh softly, too softly compared to the way he’s kissing you.

“wanted you so fucking bad.” yoongi sighs and starts kissing down your jaw towards your neck.

“fuck,” a little breathy chuckle slips out of your mouth when you realize something. “this fucking counter again.”

yoongi chuckles against your neck and brings his other hand to your other thigh, making you wrap your legs around you before picking you up from the counter.

“what-” you mumble but yoongi gives you just a short kiss to shut you up for a moment as he starts walking out of the kitchen.

“do you wanna get caught again?” he teases and your cheeks burn. you hide your face on the crook of his neck in embarrassment. “i want you to myself today, if that’s okay.” yoongi says and fuck, why does everything he say makes you feel like you’re melting? you’re sure he wasn’t like this before the kitchen incident.

“yeah, that’s okay.” you leave a kiss on his neck that has him letting out a shaky breath as he keeps walking down the corridor.

“good.” he hums and you keep kissing his neck, sucking a little mark on a spot that’s clearly sensitive because as soon as you start sucking on it yoongi’s grip on your thighs tightens significantly.

you’re brought back to reality and forced to stop kissing on his neck when yoongi is suddenly placing you down on a bed, his bed. the covers are extremely soft, that’s the first thing you notice, and the mattress seems super comfortable. in that moment you can understand why yoongi stays in bed until late somedays, his bed is so fucking nice.

“there you go,” yoongi says as he hovers over you and positions himself on his knees between your legs, one of his elbows on the mattress right next to your head to support his body. “pretty.” he smiles before kissing you again.

“you should’ve...” you start between kisses, your hands going up to his long hair while his free hand goes down to your waist. “should’ve talked to me before.”

“could tell you the same.” he replies and stops kissing your lips to go a little lower, kissing your neck again.

“wait.” you squirm under him and try to push him away.

yoongi quickly pulls away, looking down at you with worried eyes. “everything okay?” he asks.

“yeah,” you nod. “just wanna be on top.” you try to push him again and he chuckles.

“okay,” yoongi hums and he suddenly grabs you by your thighs and turns the both of you around so that you’re on top. “good?” he asks, staying sat up with you on his lap.

“yeah.” you smile as you place your hands on his shoulders.

“are you trying to get all dominant on me now?” he teases while his hands find their way under your shirt.

you don’t know what gives you the courage for it but you smirk back. “and what if i was?”

yoongi snorts.

“what?” you frown, clearly offended by his response.

“nothing...” he says but you can see how he’s trying to hold back a smile.

“just so you know, i’m a good dom.”

and it’s not a lie. you’ve been dominant in bed quite many times before, it’s not like it’s your preference but you definitely have. you’re confident even if something inside of you tells you there’s no way you’re gonna be able to dom him, your pride is bigger than that right now because his stupid smirk is making you want to shut him up.

“mh... i’m sure you are.” yoongi speaks with that stupid smirk.

“yoongi.” you whine in protest and feel stupid right after because his smirk only grows bigger.

“you’re such a cute little dom.” he brings his hand to your face and drags his thumb across your lower lip, making you realize you’re pouting.

“you’re pissing me off,” you shake him up a little with your hands on his shoulders. “i can dom you.”

“i had you blabbering like a little bitch the other day and i hadn’t even touched you yet.” yoongi says and gives your waist a light squeeze that makes you flinch.

“it was jungkook,” you say, just because he’s actually getting to you and you need a distraction. “he was the one fucking me.” you clarify and he cocks an eyebrow.

“you think jungkook was the dominant one that night?” he asks. “he completely shut down when i got there.”

you gulp when you remember how jungkook’s dominant demeanor completely disappeared as soon as yoongi walked in the kitchen that night, how he clearly obeyed to everything yoongi told him. and it is so fucking hot. by this point your panties must be ruined, you can’t help but squirm uncomfortably on top of him.

yoongi seems to notice your problem because he looks down at where your bodies are together and moves his hands down to your hips, pulling you closer to him so that you’re sat exactly on top of his crotch. a sigh escapes your mouth before you can stop it when you feel how hard he is under you.

“i bet i can make you cry before you can even begin to try dominating me.” he hums and nuzzles into your neck, making you squirm just with the feeling of his nose on your skin.

“you just caught me in a bad time that night,” you mumble. and you’re kinda right, you were so desperate that night, you’re sure you could’ve done a lot better if your desperation hadn’t been clouding your mind. “don’t be so confident.”

“i went so fucking easy on you both that night,” yoongi says against your skin like it’s a warning. “actually, i didn’t do anything and you two were doing everything i said like you were under a spell.”

“i...” your mind goes blank when he runs his tongue down your neck.

“you should’ve seen your face,” yoongi continues, leaving little kisses down the wet stripe on your neck. “you were fucked out, you looked dumb.” he chuckles a little and you should feel offended but you only moan in response when he bites on your neck, not enough to hurt but enough to get a reaction from you.

“yoongi-”

“it’s okay baby,” he hums, his breath hitting the sensitive skin of your neck and making goosebumps erupt all over your body. “i would love nothing more than to fuck you dumb.”

“that’s-” you surpress the moan that’s threatening to come out of your mouth when yoongi places his hands on your hips and pulls you closer to him just to grind against his clothed crotch. “that’s not the way you talk about a lady.” you manage to say even though your voice breaks halfway through. yoongi has obviously noticed because a dark chuckle hits your neck again.

“oh, i know,” he says. you can definitely feel how your panties are sticking to your pussy now. “but you’re not a lady, you’re just a slut.”

a loud moan slips out of your mouth when he makes you grind your hips again and the friction between you feels just right. “yoongi...” you hold on tight to his shoulders as his lips make their way up to whisper in your ear.

“right?”

“yoongi, i-” by this time your hips are moving on their own, chasing that delicious friction agaist his crotch.

“aren’t you my pretty slut?” the gentle bite to your earlobe does it for you.

you don’t remember the last time you needed someone this bad. well, maybe jungkook a couple of weeks ago, but somehow this feels different. your body is screaming for him, something inside you has been begging you to let go of that pride and just give into him since you kissed.

“please.” you say and feel stupid right after because you’ve already given up and because you don’t know what you’re asking for.

“oh, how i love to hear you say that word.” yoongi smiles wide at you and you can’t help but continue grinding your hips against him.

“fuck, yoongi i-”

“mh, i know.” he gives you a sympathetic nod and looks down at how you’re working your hips. “look at you,” he says and gently slaps your hip. “already begging for it like the slut you are.”

you try to speak but the only sound coming out of your mouth is another pathetic whimper as you keep chasing that friction.

“should i just let you do this until you cum?” yoongi asks, you instantly shake your head.

“no,” you slide your hands down his arms until you’re wrapping them around his wrists. “touch me.”

“i’m touching you.” he fakes a confused expression as he squeezes your hips just a little. you just know he’s having so much fun with this.

“yoongi, you know what i mean,” you grind against him one last time before he lets out a chuckle. “what?” and you almost can’t even recognize your voice anymore from how desperate and whiny you sound, but you know he likes it.

“i find it funny how you were trying to go all dominant and shit just a minute ago and now you’re begging like a slut.”

you don’t say anything in response, you only bite your lip to hold back a sound because you’ve never really enjoyed being talked to like this in bed but now you might be discovering something new about yourself because yoongi makes it so hot.

he smirks at your lack of response and turns the both of you again, making you lay down on your back with him between your legs. and you enjoyed being on top of him for a moment but you can’t lie and say you don’t like this position as well.

“i would love to take my time with you, but i wanna see that pretty pussy again,” yoongi says, completely unaware of how you blush at his words because he’s focused on pulling your sweatpants down your thighs. “maybe i’ll make it longer next time, but i’ve been waiting for two weeks.”

next time. the knowledge that he’s already thinking about a next time makes you a little giddy but you don’t make a comment about it.

you kick your sweatpants off when yoongi pulls them past your ankles and let then fall on the floor.

yoongi makes a disapproving soud when you bend your legs and close them, hiding from him. “c’mon, be good and open those pretty legs for me.” he puts a hand on one of your ankles, trying to make you stretch your legs.

you give in so easily, spreading your legs enough for him to get between them again. his hands go to your thighs, rubbing up and down slowly and leaving goosebumps behind.

but he’s not looking at you yet. well, he is looking at you, he’s looking at you with a pretty smirk but he’s not looking where you want him to look. that alone makes you buck your hips up in an attempt to make him look down. the gesture makes yoongi break in a chuckle but he still doesn’t give you what you want, leaning down and supporting his weight on his elbow next to your head. then he gives you a kiss that leaves you speechless instead.

“what?” you mumble in confusion.

“you’re so cute when you’re horny.” yoongi gives you a smile that successfully distracts you from his hand going up your thigh.

you open your mouth to reply but the only thing that comes out is a loud moan when you suddenly feel yoongi’s hand cupping your pussy over your panties.

“have you been this wet all this time?” yoongi says and your brain can’t even come up with an answer because his fingers start running up and down your clothed folds.

you’re so wet that the feeling of the soaked fabric of your panties against your pussy makes you blush in embarrassment, but it feels so good to finally be touched that you can’t help the sounds coming out of your mouth.

“what a dirty girl,” yoongi hums as your hips buck a little to meet the movements of his hand. “so wet just because of some kissing and some grinding?” he teases you with a chuckle.

“please, take my panties off.” you beg. you need his fingers on you.

“only because you said please.”

he partially listens to you because he doesn’t really take them off but instead pushes them to the side, which you find ten times hotter.

a loud moan slips out of your mouth when his fingers finally touch you with nothing in between. your hand twitches with the urge to cover your mouth but you know yoongi won’t like that so you settle with gripping at the sheets of his bed instead.

“haven’t stopped thinking about this pussy,” yoongi mumbles and gives it a little slap that makes you squeak in surprise. “cute.” he grins and kisses you once again.

you kiss him back, wrapping your arms around him to make sure he doesn’t pull away. he swallows all of your moans when he easily slips one of his fingers inside you and starts fucking you with it before quickly adding another one, you’re so wet that his fingers slide in so well.

“mhh… that’s a good pussy.” yoongi hums between kisses and you clench around his fingers.

his fingers feel so good, you can’t wait for his cock.

you moan his name, making him smile against your mouth. “does that feel good?”

“yeah.” you whine and he curls his fingers inside you, easily finding that spot. “fuck, right there…”

it feels so good that you almost forgot you don’t live alone. almost. you remember because you’re suddenly being surprised by the sound of the apartment door opening and closing.

jungkook is back home.

“yoongi,” you mumble against his lips like a warning but he only hums and starts fingering you faster. “fuck... yoon- yoongi, stop.”

“do you really want me to stop?” yoongi breaks away from the kiss with the hottest smirk on his face.

you don’t know what to answer. well, you know you don’t want him to stop, but jungkook is home now and you are loud enough for him to hear.

“yoon...” you try but nothing else comes out when he slips a third finger.

“that’s right,” he smiles and leaves a sweet kiss on your jaw as he keeps finger fucking you at a pace that’s driving you crazy. “say my name.”

you do. you say his name and he slips his fingers out just to give your pussy another spank that makes your whole body twitch under him.

“louder.” yoongi says as he rubs his fingers over your folds to ease the pain from the spank.

you say his name louder, but just a little because you know jungkook must be placing the groceries in the kitchen right now, he could hear you if you said it louder.

but jungkook hearing you must be exactly what yoongi wants because he gives you another spank that has you moaning his name way too loud. yoongi smiles at the sound.

“that’s a good slut.” he praises, his breath hitting your ear, and starts rubbing your pussy with his fingers from side to side so fast that you don’t know what to do with your body, your hips twitching and your cheeks reddening at the wet sound of his hand against your pussy.

god, you’re so wet.

“please…” you beg through a sound that’s close to a sob and it makes yoongi stop the movements of his hand and straighten up a little to look down at you, sitting back on his feet under him.

 “please what?” he finally gives your pussy a break but you miss his hand, the one he’s bringing to his mouth right now. “messy fucking girl, i always have to clean you up, right?”

you hold your breath and your pussy throbs when he slips two of his wet fingers in his mouth and hums like it is the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted.

“yoongi please.” you repeat even if you don’t know what you’re asking.

“is that the only word you know how to say now?” yoongi asks, not really paying attention to you but rather to cleaning your juices off his fingers. “i won’t know what you want if you don’t tell me.”

your desperation gives you the courage to sit up, your legs a little bent up on each side of yoongi, and grab at the hem of his shirt, tugging it up until it’s coming off. you throw it on the floor and take the chance to run your hands down his chest, feeling the hot skin under your fingers and getting so lost in it that the words come out of your mouth easily.

“i want your cock.” you blurt out, looking up at him with your best puppy eyes.

“you want it?” yoongi says with that condescending tone again, like he’s talking to a dumb person.

fuck, you want him so bad.

you just nod in reply. he hums and then gets up on his knees, getting so close to you with how you’re sitting. “then pull it out.”

you hold your breath for a second. “can i?”

“of course you can.”

you don’t think about it twice. you hook your fingers under the waistband of his sweatpants again and tug them down, biting your lip at the sight of the outline of his hard cock under the fabric of his boxers.

he’s so big. and you want him so bad.

“c’mon,” yoongi urges you to do something and you finally tug down at his boxers. “there you go.”

you notice two things when you’ve pulled his boxers down to his thighs.

first one, he’s definitely big.

second one, yoongi has a piercing on his dick. right on the underside, under his tip, a barbell on his frenulum.

you have to bite back a moan at how hot you find it and yoongi seems to notice your reaction because he chuckles. “you’ve never seen one?” he says with a teasing tone and you look up at his face.

“can i…” you shift uncomfortably under him because you need your panties off.

“can you what?” you hold your breath when he brings a hand down to his cock, stroking it slowly. he is so close to you in the position you are right now.

“can i suck you off?” you blurt out before you can even worry about looking desperate.

you don’t miss the way he squeezes on the base of his cock as soon as you let the words out, but he shakes his head.

you’re about to complain when yoongi speaks up again. “i would love to fuck that pretty mouth, but i need to fuck that pussy first.” he nods down at your body.

you lean back, supporting yourself against your elbows, and look at him with puppy eyes now that you know they seem to work on him. “then come fuck it.” you know you’re pouting but you couldn’t care less right now. you need him so bad.

“it will be my pleasure,” he grins but then looks down at your chest. “but take that shirt of first.”

you obey instantly and take it off in a second, throwing it somewhere on the bedroom floor and finally laying down on your back. you don’t miss yoongi’s gaze on your bare chest.

“stop doing that.” you throw one arm over your eyes not to see the way he’s devouring you with his eyes.

“i’m not doing anything.”

“you’re looking.”

“am i supposed to look somewhere else?” he responds and you chuckle a little.

“no, but- ah!” a moan escapes your mouth when you feel yoongi’s mouth on one of your nipples. you unconsciously slap your hand over your mouth to muffle any other noise slipping out of it, but yoongi is quickly grabbing your wrist and pushing your arm away.

“none of that shit,” he says before starting to litter kisses all over your chest. your back arches a little when he flicks his tongue on your other nipple and he chuckles in response. “so cute.”

“just fuck me already.” you beg, feeling yourself getting even more wet each second.

“someone’s eager to get fucked, huh?” yoongi straightens up again and wraps his hand around his cock again, stroking it lazily like before. you can’t look away.

then all of the brattiness you have in you slips out your mouth. “no, i just think you’re making me wait longer because you don’t know what to do with that.” you nod towards his cock.

yoongi’s smile is gone when you look back at his face and you know you’re in trouble.

“i wanted to look at your face while i fucked you,” he starts and you can already sense a but coming. “but i want you on all fours now.” you open your mouth to say something but he shakes his head and speaks again. “turn around before you piss me off again.” he talks with such a low voice that you can’t deny him anything.

you turn around and get up on your hands and knees, though your breath hitches when he places a hand on your back and pushes down for you to get down on your elbows, you squish your cheek on his pillow.

yoongi curses behind you and you can sense he’s looking down at your exposed pussy. the reaction gives you the courage to arch your back, pressing your chest to the mattress and spreading your legs a little, just enough for him to see you better.

“if you tell me i can’t fuck you raw i’m gonna be mad.” he curses and you giggle.

“you can do it.”

“really?” yoongi asks. you appreciate that he’s making sure.

“yes, i let jungkook fuck me raw, you should do it too.” you respond and move your ass a little. “c’mon, i’m waiting.”

and you really thought he was gonna make you wait a little more, that’s why you gasp in surprise when yoongi rubs the tip of his cock through your folds.

“oh my god…” you mumble. “please, don’t tease.” you beg when he keeps rubbing it up and down. you can actually feel the piercing and you might go crazy.

“i don’t know, since you said i don’t know what to do with my cock maybe i shouldn’t give it to you.” yoongi says with a low chuckle as he places one of his hands on your hip.

“no, please.” you whine into the pillow, feeling like you could actually cry if he doesn’t slip it in right now.

“look at you, you haven’t stopped saying please since i first touched you.” he presses his tip to your clit and rubs it just right before pulling away and making you whine again.

“i swear to god if you don’t-” a loud moan escapes your mouth when you feel him slip in slowly. “oh fuck…” you mumble and bury your face on the pillow. but yoongi doesn’t seem to like that.

he’s suddenly threading his fingers through your hair so gently but then he tugs hard to lift your head from the pillow as he bottoms out. “wanna hear you.” he says.

“so good.” you manage to say as you support your upper body on your elbows so that the hair pulling doesn’t hurt a lot, just the necessary.

“yeah?” yoongi hums as he starts to pull out just as slowly as he slipped in.

“big…” you sigh and hear a hint of another chuckle before he slips in again.

“you’re so fucking tight, holy shit,” he groans and you can feel his hand on your hair faltering for a second so you clench around him to get a reaction. “oh fuck.” he moans and he sounds so hot that you push your ass back against him to make him bottom out again.

“you feel so good.” you whine and he finally lets go of your hair but you rest your head on your side for him to hear you.

“can i move?” yoongi asks, both hands on your hips now.

“yes please.” you beg.

and he’s not gentle, he fucks you hard right from the start. you can actually feel the cold piercing inside of you and you think you might go crazy. the sound of skin against skin the only thing echoing inside the room because it feels so good that no sound comes out of your mouth.

yoongi doesn’t like that. he gives your ass a hard spank as he bottoms out again and stays there.

“if i don’t hear you i’ll stop,” he warns you and you try to move your hips for him to start moving again, but his hard grip on them doesn’t let you. “did you understand?”

“yes.” you whine and another moan slips out of your mouth when he spanks you again.

“good slut.”

you think you’re gonna cry when he starts fucking you again. this time you allow yourself to let all the sounds out, not caring about how loud you are.

“yoongi...” your voice breaks when he starts hitting that sweet spot that makes your legs shake. your knees hurt but it feels so good you don’t want to change positions.

you’re so fucked out already, you wouldn’t be so gone at this point with anyone else, but somehow it feels different with yoongi.

“that feels good?” yoongi hums and you feel a little bit of pride at how broken his voice sounds too.

“yes!” you moan. “please, don’t stop… please.”

“fuck,” he truly seems to like to hear you beg. “it’s like this pussy was made for me.” and he won’t stop hitting that spot, you’re so fucking close.

“yours.” you mumble, completely fucked out, and clench when you hear him chuckle at the word.

“mine?” he teases, slowing down his thrusts.

you nod uncomfortably against the pillow and cry out when yoongi suddenly pulls out. “no, please…” you beg, desperately pushing your ass back for him to keep fucking you.

“no, turn around.” yoongi says and you have half a mind to obey, turning around on the bed and finally laying on your back with a relief sigh.

you’re quick to wrap your legs around him to push him closer. “please, yoongi, fuck me.” all shame is gone, you need him so bad.

“slut wants my cock?”

you nod.

“then say it.”

“i want your cock.” you bite your lip when he starts rubbing his tip through your folds again.

“who wants my cock?” yoongi asks, acting dumb. you want to cry.

“me.” you sigh, bucking your hips up to grind against his cock.

“who?” yoongi asks again and you get it now.

“your slut.” you answer. yoongi smirks proudly.

“who’s cock do you want?”

god. you will go insane at this point.

“yours.”

“mh, but that’s not enough for you, right?” he hums, looking down at where his cock is rubbing against you. your breath hitches when your dizzy mind is able to get what he means.

“i-”

“one cock is not enough for your, right?”

“yoongi…”

“you got fucked by one of your roommates two weeks ago and now you’re letting your other roommate fuck you too?” yoongi circles the tip of his cock on your clit, the piercing making it feel so good youe eyes roll back. “do you spread your legs for anyone who has a cock?”

“n- no…” you blush, the humilliating words making you feel so good somehow.

“no? just for us?” yoongi asks and leans down a little, the hand he was using to hold the base of his cock wrapping around your neck now.

“yes,” you sigh. everything feels so hot. “just for you.”

“yeah?” he hums. fuck, he’s so hot.

you try to nod but his hand around your neck squeezes a little. “fuck…” you moan, your pussy throbbing now.

“i knew you would like this, dirty girl,” yoongi chuckles and gives your neck another light squeeze as he starts slipping his cock into you again. “that’s a good slut.” he groans as you clench around him again.

yoongi keeps his hand around your neck as he starts fucking you, squeezing just lightly. and he knows what he’s doing, because the second he lets go you let out the loudest moan you’ve ever made. your hand flies to your mouth in embarrassment but yoongi grabs your wrist and pulls it over your head, pinning it right there.

“i wanna fucking hear you.” he says, hips hitting against the back of your thighs so hard as he fucks you at a brutal pace.

“jung- jungkook is home…” you mutter as a warning but he only laughs.

“is that an inconvenient now?” he gives you a deep thrust that makes your eyes roll back. “let him hear. should i ask him to come here too?”

“fuck.” you’re so close, if he keeps talking like that you’re gonna cum.

“i’m sure he’s listening from his room right now,” yoongi says, his thrusts hitting just right, you’re sure you’re creaming his cock by this point. “do you think he’s touching himself as he listens to you?”

“oh my god…” your hand twitches with the urge to cover your mouth again but he keeps it pinned to the mattress over your head, your other hand grips at the sheets tightly.

“i’m sure he wishes he was in my place right now.” he looks down at how your boobs bounce from the thrusts and you’re sure your cheeks are tomato red.

“so close...” you moan, your legs trembling around him.

“i start talking about jungkook and now you’re gonna cum?” yoongi teases, earning another whine from you. “wow, one cock is really not enough for you, isn’t it…”

“yoongi!” you squeak when you feel his free hand on your pussy, he starts rubbing circles on your clit.

“gonna cum around my cock?”

“yes! yes, please!” you’re so fucking loud now but you couldn’t care less.

“you want him to hear you, huh?” yoongi chuckles.

“i’m g- gonna cum…” you mumble, the words almost not coming out.

“say his name,” yoongi says and you open your eyes in shock, pussy clenching around him. “say his name or you’re not coming.” he warns as he slows down his thrusts.

“yoongi, no…” you cry out.

“that’s not his name.” yoongi gives your clit a little lap that makes your body twitch.

“ju… jungkook.” you try and blush right after. it feels so wrong to moan someone else’s name in bed, you know yoongi wants it but it makes you feel so dirty. he wants you to feel like that.

“louder, baby.” he says and the contrast between that petname and the names he was calling you before makes you feel like you’re gonna pass out.

“jungkook!” you finally say, making yoongi grin down at you.

“that’s it, say it again.” he says and resumes the pace he was fucking you with before.

“jungkook!” you moan louder and yoongi’s fingers on your clit is faster. “fuck! oh my- ah! gonna cum!”

“good slut,” yoongi hums. “c’mon, cum for us.”

us.

the stupid word and its implications make you clench impossibly tight around him as the craziest shock waves run through your whole body. your vision goes blurry so you close your eyes while your body goes limp, completely exhausted as you feel yoongi slipping out.

you’re about to complain when you open your eyes and see him stroking his cock and moaning as white stripes of cum land on your sweaty chest.

“oh my god…” you sigh and throw one of your arms over your eyes.

you hum when you feel yoongi’s hand on your cheek. “are you okay?” he speaks so softly you could’ve sworn he’s not the guy who just fucked you.

“yeah.” you reply and something makes you start giggling lazily.

“what are you laughing about now?” yoongi says but yo can hear a smile in his voice.

“i can’t believe that happened.” you mumble and put your arm down to look at him.

“well, it happened.” he leans down and gives your lips a sweet kiss, then he gets down from the bed.

you watch him put his sweatpants and grab a towel from one of the drawers on his closet as your chest keeps going up and down, trying to get your breathing back to normal.

“seriously, are you okay?” he asks when he comes back to bed and sits down next to you, cleaning his cum from your stomach.

“yeah, just… a little sore,” you chuckle, your cheeks burning from how gentle he’s suddenly being with you. “i don’t know if i’m gonna be able to get up.”

“you can stay here for as long as you want.” he says softly and folds the towel, throwing it on a basket where you suppose he puts his dirty clothes.

“i would stay here all day,” you admit. “but i have work and i have to eat first.”

“i can prepare a bath for you,” yoongi says and your heart does something weird in your chest. “for your sore muscles.” he rubs a hand up and down your bare thigh.

“can you do that?” you look at him with big eyes.

“of course i can.”

“how can you be so sweet after everything you just did to me?” you ask and he chuckles, leaning down to kiss you again.

“aftercare is important, i take that really seriously.”

“okay,” you smile sweetly at him. “then go prepare that bath.”

he snorts. “brat.” but he stands up again and walks out of the room, closing the door after.

you stay there for a minute, staring at the ceiling and thinking about everything you just did in this bed. and you feel kinda good and giddy about it until you remember about jungkook.

you moaned his name. you yelled his name. and he for sure heard you. you shake the thoughts away from your head and decide to get up from bed. you need that bath.

your body begs you to lay down when you manage to stand up, your legs are sore and your whole body is so weak that you almost fall down when you grab yoongi’s shirt from the floor. you hum pleasantly when you put the shirt on and notice it covers you perfectly, yoongi always wears big clothes.

your trembling legs guide you out of the room and the smell of food cooking in the kitchen hits your nose and almost makes you moan at how hungry you are, jungkook must be cooking lunch right now. since he must be in the kitchen you take the chance to run to the bathroom, where yoongi is preparing your bath. but you’re proved wrong when you collapse against a hard chest in the middle of the corridor.

jungkook is looking down at you with something you can’t really read in his eyes. he just walked out of his room, he had probably left the food cooking in the kitchen.

“hi!” you say like nothing ever happened because you’re still so embarrassed, your cheeks burning again.

“hey.” jungkook mumbles and separates from you, motioning to walk past you and back to the kitchen.

you are walking past him and to the bathroom when he says your name, making you turn to him. “yes?”

“next time just come to my room instead of thinking about me when you’re with him.”

you freeze. you literally don’t know what to say.

you open your mouth to try and say something, probably something stupid, when yoongi appears right behind you.

“i think you should just join us next time.” he says and the smug expression on jungkook’s face completely disappears. he turns around and walks inside the kitchen again.

your shoulders drop in disappointment because the reaction kind of felt like a rejection but yoongi places his hand on your shoulder.

“he will come around,” he tells you. “he’s just stubborn.”

“yeah…” you mumble and turn around to follow him into the bathroom.

“you really want him, huh?” yoongi teases you but you completely ignore him, standing in front of the mirror and cringing at how messy you look. “my shirt looks good on you.” he adds, standing behind you.

a little smirk grows on your face as you look at him in the mirror. “you fuck me once and you’re already in love with me?” you tease.

“wow, look at how bratty that mouth is,” yoongi mumbles, crossing his arms against his chest. “but then you barely speak a word when you’re getting fucked.” that shuts your mouth completely and he looks proud of it.

“shut up…” you mumble and turn around to push him out of the bathroom. “get out, i wanna enjoy my bath.”

yoongi just chuckles to himself before turning around and leaving. you only notice the dumb smile on your face when you look at yourself in the mirror again.

yoongi has you smiling like that. and you also remember jungkook, how he basically told you to have sex with him again and the invitation actually sparked something inside of you.

you were just roommates a month ago but now you’re starting a dangerous game with the both of them. the thing is that it feels good, you can only hope it turns out alright.

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A/N: askssjdnandkdjas i hope you liked this chapter, please let me know your thoughts !!! it helps a lot to have feedback <3 i'm obviously makind this a series so pls look forward for the next chapter :) 💖 thank you all for reading ! have a nice day babes

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TAGLIST: @m4gg13-g @kooksbunnnn @baechugff @danielle143 @signingsongbird @dontcallmeelle @fancy-cloud @melakrish

[radio-fmm]

Bathing suit

Sanji x reader

Warnings: afab reader, comfort fluff but a little suggestive, CW reader is not comfortable with her body so she talks terrible about it (don’t worry this has a happy ending)

Word count: 1.6k

Summary: In which you hate how you look in your bathing suit and Sanji comforts you

Masterlist

It was a hot sunny day, the waves of the ocean made their way to the shore in a calm rhythm, so steady that the Strawhats found themselves having to dock on the beach for the day, awaiting for the ocean’s ferocity to comeback so they could sail away to continue their adventure

A day in the beach, everyone was more than happy for the idea. Having to spend your days at sea with the same faces looking back at you every waking moment could be a little nagging, having this time to unravel and enjoy the beauty of the island was something everyone looked forward to. Franky and Ussop had even set up an improvised tiki bar, just an excuse for Sanji to make everyone drinks really

And there he was, mixing up a fruit drink that he handed Nami which she took gratefully, before making her way back to her assigned place under an umbrella besides Robin. A smile was quick to make its way to the cooks face, everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, wether it be savoring his drinks, fooling around in the ocean or constructing an impressive sand castle near the shore

But his smile was quick to fade when he noticed you were nowhere to be found, how strange. Earlier that day, when Luffy happily shared the news of how the crew was going to spend the day, he clearly recalled your enthusiastic response, happy to finally have some sand under your feet and enjoy a relaxing day under the beaming sun; so… where were you?

Worry seemed to be building up on Sanji’s core when he asked about your whereabouts and no one really knew where or what were you doing

“Last time I saw her she was getting ready, said she’d catch up to us” Robin commented, which did nothing to ease his worries since that had happened when you had just docked

“I’m just going to make sure she’s ok” Sanji said after taking a drag of his cigarette that burned hastily under his fingertips. Robin smiled and nodded, knowing that whatever it was, Sanji would take good care of it

So he looked for you, all over and under The Sunny, but it seemed like you had dissipated into thin air, that was until he heard a sob reverb from behind the girls quarters door. Thinking something absolutely terrible and unthinkable had happened to the sweet sweet you, Sanji kicked open the door, making you jump out of your skin as his eyes examined the room

When he saw you, eyes puffy, nose red, wrapped under a blanket looking like a sad wet dog Sanji found himself stunned, glad you were in one piece, but his heart breaking at your sight

“My dear… what happened?” You stayed in place, only answering with a sad sob and a shiver, the blonde eased his position, softening as he approached gently “dear?”

“Nothing… I’m just, not feeling well” Sanji had never seen you like this, in his eyes you were a strong and brave woman that carried herself proudly, to see you so vulnerable made his heart clench. Hesitantly, he sat at your side of your bed, his eyes never leaving your form, taking note of your fingertips dragging your tears away in a hurry. A salience fell, deafening as you fought back the pain blossoming form your being, hiding into yourself

“Are you sure?” A sigh left your lips, your eyes watering meeting his blue worried ones, you shook your head slowly

“Do you want to talk about it?” His voice was barely a whisper, as if afraid you’ll get scared and run away again. You stayed still for a moment, hesitant but too hurt to even deny, you nodded shutting your eyes as new tears peeked at the sides

Sanji scooted closer, his hand reaching for your back rubbing confronting circles “I feel disgusting”- your voice came out broken and tired.- “I look so bad in my bathing suit, nothing like Nami and Robin… why am I like this?”

Every single word that came out of your mouth was like a dagger hitting Sanji’s stomach repeatedly, hurting him like nothing had ever before and leaving him confused

Every since Sanji had landed his eyes on you, he was absolutely star struck. He swears he had never crossed paths with someone like you, your beauty beyond compare. Sure he was known for his admiration for women and tossing around the word perfect almost to every single one he met, but you? Perfect was not enough of a word; it was not only your dazzling beauty with your star lit eyes and your addictive smile framed by those soft lips of yours, your sun kissed skin and your free hair waved by the ocean’s breeze the only thing leaving him breathless, it was your heart, your bravery and kindness that you always extended towards the people around you, your soul was even far more precious than anything Sanji had ever encountered in the vastness of the sea

It was really confusing to know that you couldn’t see what he did

An incredulous “What?”- was the only thing that slipped from his mouth at the idea of it, your eyes turning confused just as he was

“But, you’re gorgeous” Sanji expressed without hesitation, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, as if stating a clear fact

“You’re just saying that to be nice” he immediately shook his head repeatedly, his hands reaching to hold yours in hopes you’ll understand

“I mean it!”

“You don’t have to pretend, I know loving every woman on earth is part of who you are but be honest with me Sanji. I am not as skinny or gracious as all the girls you fawn over, I am not the kind of girl someone double takes at-“ you paused your rambling when you were met with something you had never seen before, Sanji was upset… upset with you; angry eyes piercing you in place, holding his breath hoping that the words you used to talk about yourself would stop flowing out of your mouth, he was fuming

“Sanji?” His strong grip shifted from your hands to your shoulders, blue eyes full of determination burning right into yours but not a word was spoken. The cook knew if he was to spill every thought that swam around his mind right now it would only bring to the surface his clear love for you, a feeling he had tried to bury deep down on his being and failing every time you’ll cross his line of vision; regardless, he weighs his options, you deserved better than him he said to himself but… maybe he wanted to be selfish

“Darling, it’s true… you’re not like Nami or Robin, but that’s exactly why you’re so…”- his heart jumped to his throat as he tried to get his words out, desires being held back by a thin rope about to snap.- “so perfect” Sanji’s words echoed trough the room, blush settling on top of your tear stained cheeks, but still you doubted him

“I am no-“

“Y/N!” he shook your shoulders in hopes you’ll come back to yourself

“You think I’m lying? Look!” You stood up getting away from his grip and tossing the blanket that shielded your body aside, opening your arms as you showed your bathing suit “My belly looks so bad, my thighs are huge and I have marks all over and…” your voice faded as Sanji admired you from his seat, ogling you form head to toe, his heart went from his throat to the floor reddening his face and hitching his breath

Fuck it

The cook stood up just to fall on his knees immediately after; there he was in front of you, his hands on your plum thighs as pure adoration looked back at you -“If you only knew what you do to me” your pink tinted cheeks turned red at his words and your heartbeat went wild, threatening to make your heart jump out of your ribcage. His slender hands touched your cold skin with pure devotion burning themselves into you, his eyes made another roll of your figure taking in every detail he was able to as he remained close. Sanji’s grip faltered only to move his hands around your legs, savoring the way your skin felt under his fingertips; his hands reached near your bottom making you jump immediately pulling his hands back to your thighs

“SORRY!” He exclaimed as his mind catches up with the actions of his body, hand pulling away from you leaving you cold.- “You’re just so… unreal”

There it was again, that twinkle in his eyes that made its appearance whenever he glanced at you, beaming over your insecurities and making them disappear on its wake, but why? why you? In your eyes you were just pathetic but for him… you were everything

“Sanji” you called and he answered without a doubt, raising to his feet as he awaited for your words.- “Do you mean it”

Finally, a shadow of a smile casted on your lips, melting the cook in a puddle at your feet, but he managed to not crumble because he needed to answer

“Sweetheart, theres so much more I want to say to you and nothing would be enough to show you how crazy you make me” hearing the thrumming in his chest sparked the idea to maybe just show you. Again, his hand took one of yours in his and placed in on his chest, there it was clear as day, his heart jumping around because of you… for you

You flushed at the feeling, another smile gracing Sanjis view as you thanked him in a whisper, both of your gazes staring back at each other lost on the feeling of one another, awaiting for time to take you

“I feel so much better now” taking advantage of your position, you jumped on the cooks arms, wrapping yourself on his tall frame smiling like an idiot which Sanji welcomed happier than ever, you body melting into his in a sweet hug that he would forever remember

“Glad to be of service”

—————————

This was supposed to be a prompt with several characters but I got carried away… anyways Laws version is in the making

[princessbrunette]

kinktober : oct 24th

leon kennedy x consensual somnophilia

it was never something leon would have ever considered.

sex was always something leon would do with you, not to you — and he wanted it that way. he loved making you beg for it, loved watching your reactions, loved watching you start off shy and end up a mouthy mess, barely making any sense. it was part of the fun.

he’d been coming home late as of recently, either called out onto some kind of ridiculous mission, or stacked high with paperwork that kept him back after hours working overtime. he was making great money, you couldn’t complain — leon using his overtime earnings to spoil you like you deserved, but it was stealing the most valuable thing of all from you, and that was him.

you were needy, needed his physical affection, his cock bruising your insides and strong arms wrapped around you grounding you — reminding you that he was here, and yours, and safe. it just wasn’t possible lately, only seeing him in the mornings before he’d leave. you tried really hard to stay awake when he’d get home, yawning and rubbing your eyes as you’d text him and tell him— but you’d usually get hit with the ‘You need your rest, baby. Go to sleep.’ text response and who are you to argue? you couldn’t if you tried, often falling asleep with the lamp on, sprawled atop the sheets. his tired frame would find you like that when he returns home, shaking his head with a tired chuckle and tucking you in. leon looks after you like that.

you’d awoken with a plan, waking up earlier than leon’s alarm and padding into the kitchen to make him breakfast before he leaves— making his morning easier by laying out his clothes, his badge, his wallet — really playing at housewife, which you both enjoyed.

he was smiling sleepily when he found you in the kitchen, serving up his food to go so that he wasn’t late.

“whats all this, hm?” he smirks as he approaches you, pulling you toward him by the hips and pressing a grateful kiss to the centre of your forehead.

“just wanna treat you right, i know you’re working hard and you’re tired… i miss you though.” you exhale slowly, still sleepy yourself as you burrow your cheek to his chest. his heart pangs a little at your sad tone, stroking down the back of your dishevelled head.

“i know, sweetheart. i’m sorry i’ve been so busy, works been hectic lately but things should be clearing up soon. then i can take some time off, spend time with my number one.” his sympathetic tone fades to a grin, running a thumb over your cheek when you smile with him.

“‘kay.” you seem satisfied, walking him to the door, watching him pull his fur lined jacket on to protect him from the chilly winter weather outside. the jacket makes him seem even bigger than he is, which makes you bite back a needy giggle as you hand him his brown paper bag with his breakfast inside.

“alright, baby. thanks for the food. i’ll be back later.” he pinches your chin affectionately. “wheres my kiss?” he tilts his head a little with a playful smirk, and you don’t wait another second before standing on your tiptoes and planting a kiss to his lips, savouring the feeling knowing you’ll miss him all day. it was then time to propose your plan.

you pull back, and he goes to step away but you speak, as casually as possible.

“oh, and leon. if you come home and you need me, you can use me whilst i sleep if you’d like. i don’t wear panties to bed.” you smile innocently, before pulling back fully. “see you later!” you usher him out as he stares back in shock, not giving him time to respond. you all but kick him out as you giggle, going about your day.

he’d thought about it a lot that day.

he couldn’t do that to you, right? use you whilst you slept. it was… degrading. inherently wrong. his sweet girl, unaware of his touch. and yet, you were so willing, the look in your eyes when you’d permit him access to you whilst you slept haunted him all day. you’d tried to play it cool, but leon knew you too well — knew that needy, neglected look in your eyes. you were practically begging to be touched. had it really been that long?

he’d arrived home late as usual, and by the time he did, with all the work that had been lumped onto him he’d pretty much forgotten momentarily about that morning, that was until he entered the bedroom.

it’s like you’d set the scene perfectly for him.

he puffs out his cheeks a little as he exhales, running hands over his cheeks like he was trying to wipe off water. you were there, fast asleep on the bed wearing just his t-shirt. the blankets had been kicked down to just cover one foot, bunching up on your other side — and your leg was cocked up as you lay on your stomach. he creeps further into the room, sighing at how beautiful you looked illuminated only by the bright moonlight. his tshirt had ridden up, revealing your plump ass and glistening wet cunt in the low light. poor thing, he thinks — you’d gone to bed all needy.

he’s surprised the sound of his belt clinking as he undoes it doesn’t wake you, usually having a rather pavlovian effect on you to make you salivate whenever you hear it. he still feels slightly guilty despite the clear permission you’d given ringing bright and new in his memory. there was nothing wrong with just getting comfy and laying beside his girl, right?

he wedges himself gently behind you, still wearing his clothes, and in your sleep you habitually shuffle up closer to him, pressing your bare ass against his cock. he winces, hand coming up to caress the skin there. “fuck.” he murmurs, cock hard in his jeans.

maybe he could just jerk himself off, right here beside you. that wasn’t so bad, right? he pulls his pants and boxers down to his knees and quickly gets to work, the other hand carefully pinching the material of his tshirt and lifting it slowly to reveal more skin to him. he inhales, jaw slacking a little at the sight of your curves as he touches himself— and he feels himself getting more desperate. what’s the harm in playing with you just a little?

he slows his movements on his own cock, bringing his hand slowly to your ass again, rubbing soothing circles on the skin. his hand creeps from there to between your legs, his fingers experimentally swiping through your soaked folds. you must’ve prepared yourself before you slept. a wave of heat rushed through him as he wondered if you went to bed this wet every night since he’d been working so much and not pleasing you. without thought his fingers slide up to your clit, giving it a few affectionate rubs like he usually would. you whine sleepily and he shushes you.

“it’s okay baby, it’s me.”

you don’t seem to stir, and his blood is fucking pumping. he leans over you, using his strong arm to hold himself up and swipes his tip through your folds, coating himself in your slick. “so god damn wet.” he hisses, brows knitting. he gets himself into a comfortable position before pushing himself a little just past the tip.

you cry out a little into the pillow, and he hears himself shushing you again. “i know sweet girl, just me.” he sighs, pressing his forehead against your back.

he keeps you like that for a while, arm trembling a little whilst he holds himself up. you just feel so good, swallowing half of him — and he realises just how pent up he’s been since he’d been working overtime. he slowly bottoms out, letting out the most pornographic yet quiet moan, perfectly forming an ‘ugh’ sound in the air as you squeeze around him. he starts to grind in and out of you, and only then you stir — always the heavy sleeper.

you let out a disorientated yet pleased whine, clenching down hard as your consciousness comes to the surface. leon, mounting you still, wraps one thick arm beneath your stomach, effortlessly holding you to him as if you were a pillow or a stuffed animal — the other thick forearm wedged itself beneath you to work at your clit, light but slightly frenzied circles pressed against it. you let out a sleepy sob, drool painting your chin as your noises come out muffled to the pillow.

“you’re okay, pretty girl. s’just me remember. fuck. you still sure you want me up in here?” you feel his clothed stomach against your back.

“mhm!” you rasp, barely awake just drifting in and out of what felt like a perfect wet dream.

soon you’re clenching down hard again, almost trapping his movement. he lets you hump your clit on the heel of his hand as he tried his hardest to look round at you from his position. “you wanna cum on it, baby? yeah?” he cooes, slightly whiny and high pitched signalling he wasn’t far behind you. “such a good girl giving yourself to me like this. gonna treat you all fuckin’ night, make up for lost time.” he really is whining now, the soft sounds of his pelvis clapping against your ass filling the room.

you snuggle against him as best as you can, eyes squeezing shut as you feel yourself waking up properly to a hearty orgasm on your boyfriends thick cock.

but leon wasn’t done yet. needless to say, he was tired at work the next day.

[doumadono]

Warnings: pure angst, graphic descriptions of injuries, pregnancy mention, Dabi spiraling into madness while consumed entirely by his thirst for vengeance, a lot of sadness

Synopsis: after the Final War leaves Dabi on the brink of death, you remain by his side, pouring out your love and revealing the secret you never had the chance to share with him before

A/N: this fic was written as my contribution to the weekly challenge in @candycandy00 community ♥

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

The air around him was heavy with the scent of ash and smoke.

You stood there, watching as he flicked his fingers, a tiny blue flame flickering to life and dancing across his scarred skin. It illuminated the deep lines and cracks that marred his face, each one a story, each one a wound that had never healed. 

His hair was white now - ghostly, almost - and it only made the darkness in his eyes stand out more. He didn’t look at you. Instead, he stared at the flame as if it held all the answers, as if he could burn away everything that had brought him to this moment.

"Why does it always have to be this way?" your voice was trembling, and you were barely holding back the tears that threatened to spill. “Why does it have to be you?”

Dabi didn’t answer immediately. He tilted his head slightly, and the light from the flame cast eerie shadows across his face. Finally, he let out a low chuckle, one that held no joy, only bitterness. "You know why," he muttered, his tone void of any hope. "This was always how it was going to end."

You took a step closer, reaching out with trembling hands, desperate to touch him, to feel the warmth that had always been just out of reach. "You don’t have to do this," you whispered, almost pleading. "You don’t have to go. Please. I care about you. You can’t leave me behind like that.”

He finally turned around, his eyes meeting yours. The flame on his fingertip flared, and the moment was gone, replaced by the icy detachment he wore like a second skin. "And then what?" he asked, tilting his head, his voice barely more than a whisper. "What happens then? I walk away? Pretend these scars aren’t there? Pretend I can forgive? They took everything from me, and they’re going to pay for that."

“Touya…” You dared to use his real name, hoping, praying it would be enough to reach him, to make him stop this madness.

"Don’t," he snapped back. "Don’t call me that. He’s dead. He’s been dead for a long time." He took a step closer, and the heat emanating from his body was already suffocating, but you refused to move, refused to let him push you away. “I’m Dabi now. That’s all there is.”

“No,” you choked out, shaking your head furiously, tears finally spilling over, tracing paths down your flushed cheeks. “You’re more than that. You’ve always been more than that. I’ve seen it. I’ve seen you…”

“You’ve seen what I wanted you to see,” he interrupted. 

The dim light of the cave cast shadows that made him look monstrous, and yet, all you could see was the boy he used to be, the boy who had wanted to be a hero. “You can’t save me. No one can,” Dabi added, his voice a tone softer, and it broke your heart because it was the truth he had resigned himself to.

You reached for him, grabbing his wrist, ignoring the searing heat that pulsed beneath your fingers. “I don’t want to save you,” you whispered. “I just want you to stay. Just… stay.”

Dabi’s eyes softened, just for a moment, and you thought, maybe, maybe there was a chance. But then he smiled - a smile so broken, tired, and filled with a sorrow so deep it threatened to swallow you whole. “You deserve better than a monster covered in scars,” he murmured, and your heart shattered.

"I don’t want better," you said, voice shaking. "I want you, Dabi."

He leaned in, and for a heartbeat, you thought he might kiss you, but instead, he rested his forehead against yours. “I wish I could be that for you,” he breathed, his voice barely more than a ghost of a sound. “I really do.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, as if that would keep him here, as if that would stop him from slipping away. “Then stay.” You shot your hands to wrap them around his waist, and you stood there, holding him tightly.

But when you opened your eyes again, he had pulled away. He took a step back, then another, until there was nothing but shadows separating you. “Goodbye,” he uttered, and it wasn’t just a word - it was a death sentence, for both of you.

And as he walked away, the sound of his footsteps fading into the darkness, all you could do was stand there, surrounded by the cold emptiness he left behind, the echo of his final words burning hotter than any flame.

You stood frozen in front of the flickering television screen in your apartment, the world around you fading into nothingness as the battle raged on, as the flames you had once held so tenderly now roared and consumed everything in their wake. It was pure chaos - heroes and villains clashing in a storm of power and destruction, but all you could see was him.

Dabi stood at the center of it all, white hair whipping around his face like the ashes of a funeral pyre. His flames blazed with an intensity that seemed to consume the very air around him, radiating a brightness so fierce that, for a fleeting moment, he appeared almost ethereal - like a dying star caught in its last throes, desperate to leave a mark before being extinguished forever. But then you saw the pain etched into his features, the way his body trembled, the way his flames wavered, and it hit you all over again - how much he was hurting himself, how much this was costing him.

“Touya, please,” you whispered, voice cracking, as if he could hear you through the screen, as if your words could somehow reach him across the distance. “Please, stop.”

But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t, and you knew it well. You watched, heart splintering with every second that passed, as he unleashed everything he had against his family - the people who had made him, who had scarred him, who had broken him beyond repair. You watched as his flames collided with the ice of his mother and brothers, with the desperate defenses of his father, and all you could do was stand there, powerless to stop the destruction that unfolded.

Tears blurred your vision, and you sank to your knees, clutching at your chest as if you could somehow hold yourself together, as if you could somehow stop the pieces of your heart from crumbling to dust. “Please,” you sobbed, your voice a strangled whisper, “Please, don’t leave me…”

The news anchors were talking - describing the devastation, the violence, the destruction - but you couldn’t hear them. All you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat, pounding in your ears like a death knell, as you watched him burn to his demise, as you watched him fight and bleed and scream, and you felt it - the scars he left on your heart tearing wider, deeper, with every moment that passed.

And then, you saw it.

“No…” The word tore itself from your throat, and you didn’t even realize you were screaming, didn’t realize you were clawing at the screen as if you could somehow reach through it, as if you could somehow pull him back, keep him from slipping away. “No, no, no!”

His body lay still, the blue flames around him flickering weakly, as if they, too, were struggling to hold on. The camera zoomed in, capturing every agonizing detail, and you felt your heart constrict, a scream dying in your throat as you took in the full extent of his wounds.

His skin - what little remained - was cracked and charred, blackened to the bone in places where the flames had devoured him. The once-pale flesh hung in shreds, peeled back to reveal raw, bloodied muscle, and patches of bone that jutted out grotesquely. His right arm was gone, and he was reduced to little more than a skeleton covered with scraps of burnt tissue. Where the flesh had burned away entirely, you could see the tendons and ligaments clinging to his bones, frayed and broken, hanging on by threads.

His ribs, twisted and scorched, pressed against the paper-thin skin of his chest, the bones visible through what remained of the flesh that had once protected him. Each ragged breath he took caused them to rise and fall in sharp, jerky movements, and you could see how parts of the bone were cracked, splintered, as if they might snap with the slightest bit of pressure. His spine, scorched black, protruded from his back, the vertebrae exposed, skeletal.

His face was nearly unrecognizable, a twisted mask of agony and destruction. The skin around his mouth and eyes was entirely gone, leaving only the exposed muscles and tendons. His lips were cracked, blackened, and torn, revealing teeth that were stained red with blood. The left side of his face had burned down to the bone, the flames having stripped away everything, leaving behind nothing but a charred, skeletal visage that made him look more like a corpse than a man.

Blood seeped from countless wounds, dripping from him in a slow, steady stream, pooling beneath his ruined body. It mingled with the ash, the remnants of his own flesh, turning the ground around him into a grotesque, crimson mud. 

Yet still, somehow, his chest moved - barely, but it did - his lungs rattling with each shallow, ragged breath, fighting for every ounce of air as if he could refuse the darkness that threatened to swallow him whole.

The sight of him - broken, burned, reduced to this fragile state - was more than you could bear.

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but stare, paralyzed by the sight of him lying there, so small, so broken, and all you could think was, “I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there to stop him.”

You didn’t remember moving. One moment, you were on the floor, and the next, you were running, stumbling out of your apartment and into the chaos of the city, the smoke and screams and sirens drowning out the world around you. You didn’t care. You didn’t care about the danger, didn’t care about the warnings blaring from every television and radio and phone. All you knew was that he was out there, dying, and you had to reach him. You had to be there, if only to tell him that he wasn’t alone.

You reached the barricades, the line of heroes holding back the civilians, and you fought against them, desperate, frantic, screaming his name over and over until your voice gave out, until your throat was raw and bleeding, and still, you pushed forward. “Please,” you begged, clawing at them with all the strength you had left. “Please, I need to get there!”

“We can’t let you there, ma’am, the battle is still on and it’s dangerous…”

But you refused to listen, refused to believe it. You clawed your way past them, pushing a few people violently aside, slipping through the gaps, ignoring the shouts and hands that tried to hold you back, ignoring the pain that throbbed with every step, ignoring the scorching pain within your calves that seemed to slow you down to the point you were barely moving forward. All you knew was that you had to reach him. You had to see him, even if one last time.

And then you were there, standing over him, staring down at the body of the man you loved, and for a moment, the world fell silent. You collapsed to your knees beside him, your hands hovering over his broken form, afraid to touch him, afraid that he would crumble into ashes beneath your fingers. 

His family lay nearby, battered and broken, their bodies bearing the scars of the battle that had nearly consumed them all, just as it had consumed him.

“Touya,” you whispered, and his name felt like a blade slicing through you, sharp and unyielding. You reached out, brushing trembling fingers against the cracked, burned skin of his cheek, and it was so cold, so impossibly cold. 

There was no answer. There would probably never be an answer. As you cradled his head in your lap, the reality of his condition struck you like a blow. What you held wasn't the man you loved anymore - it was a skull, stripped of nearly all the flesh that had once made him human. The skin around his cheeks and jaw had burned away, leaving only the bare bone, cracked and blackened, exposed to the world. His eye sockets, once bright and full of life, now seemed hollow and lifeless, the remaining fragments of skin stretched tightly over his brow. Every part of him felt fragile, delicate, as if the slightest touch might cause him to crumble into dust in your hands. And still, you leaned down, pressing your forehead against his exposed skull, sobs wracking your body, as you whispered words of love and apology, hoping somehow, some part of him could still feel you. You whined silently when you felt the ragged, faint breath that still fought to escape his lungs, and you knew - these were the scars that would never heal, the wounds that would lead him straight to his demise.

And all you could do was hold him, whispering the words you had never been able to say before, hoping, praying that somehow, some way, he could still hear you. “I’m here,” you whispered, your voice breaking, “I’m here, Touya. I’m here, and you’re not alone.”

The hospital room was cold, sterile, and far too quiet. 

You stood there, barely able to breathe, as you took in the sight of him - the man you loved, the man who had burned so brightly, now trapped within the confines of a life support system. His body was completely bound, encased in a mass of wires, tubes, and bandages that covered every inch of him. He was barely recognizable, and the sight made your heart shatter all over again.

All that remained visible were his eyes and his jaw - the only parts of him restored after the destruction he had inflicted on himself, and everything and everyone around him. His eyes stared blankly ahead.

You took a tentative step forward, your hands trembling as you reached out to touch the glass that separated you from him. “Touya…” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. It was surreal, seeing him like this, as if the world had paused and left you in this agonizing limbo. “I’m here.”

The faint, rhythmic beeping of the machines was the only response you got, and it cut through you like a knife. You swallowed back the tears, your fingers pressing harder against the glass, as if you could somehow reach through it, as if you could somehow pull him back to you.

“They said you wouldn’t make it,” you joked nervously, your eyes never leaving his. “They said you were too far gone. But you fought, didn’t you? You fought, and you’re still here.”

His eyes shifted, focusing on you with a clarity that made your heart skip a beat. Slowly, painfully, you saw his jaw twitch, and then, in a voice so faint, so weak, you almost thought you were imagining it, he spoke. “Why are you still here?” His voice was barely a whisper, raspy and broken, but it was his. 

“I couldn’t leave you,” the words trembled out of your lips, thick with unshed tears. “I couldn’t let this be the end. Not like this.”

He tried to laugh, but it came out as a painful wheeze, his jaw tightening as he winced. “You shouldn’t have… I’m not… worth it.”

“How dare you?” you snapped, the words tearing from you with the force of a scream. “How dare you say that after everything? After everything we went through? How can you say you’re not worth it?!”

His eyes closed briefly, and when they opened again, they were filled with something you hadn’t seen in so long - something that looked like fear. “I ruined… everything.”

The words slipped out, fragile and trembling, as tears spilled over, leaving hot trails down your flushed cheeks. “You didn’t ruin what we had. You just… you got lost. But you’re still here. You’re still mine.”

He shook his head slightly, his breath coming in ragged gasps, and you could see the agony etched into every piece of his uncovered face. “I can’t be saved.”

“I’m not here to save you,” you remarked fiercely, pressing harder against the glass, as if you could somehow reach him. “I’m here because I love you. I’m here because I couldn’t walk away. And because…” You hesitated, your heart pounding, the weight of your secret threatening to crush you. “Because there’s something you need to know.”

His gaze sharpened, confusion flickering in those eyes you had loved so much, the eyes that had once been so full of life. “What is it?”

Swallowing hard, a trembling hand drifted to the curve of your abdomen as you forced the words out, each one a dagger plunging deeper into your heart. “I’m pregnant,” you confessed, voice quivering. “I found out right before you left. I tried to tell you, but you didn’t want to listen to me.”

The silence that followed was deafening, and for a moment, you thought he hadn’t heard, that your words hadn’t reached him. But then the steady beep of his heart rate monitor began to spike, echoing frantically in the small room as his pulse rose. And then you saw it - a tear slipping down his bandaged cheek, his mouth opening and closing, as if he were trying to speak but couldn’t find the words. “No…” he rasped, his voice shaking. “Why didn’t you tell me…?”

“Because you didn’t listen!” you cried, your voice breaking. “You wouldn’t stop! I tried to make you stay, but you were so consumed with your pain, fury and vengeance, and I couldn’t save you from that.”

“I failed you,” Touya whispered, his voice cracking, and it was the most vulnerable you had ever seen him, the man who had once stood unflinching before the world, now reduced to this broken, shattered soul. “I failed our family.”

“No,” you stated, shaking your head furiously, the glass cool against your forehead as you pressed closer, desperate to be near him, to make him understand. “You didn’t fail. You can still come back. You can still fight. For me. For us.”

“I’m too tired,” he burbled, and his eyes drifted closed, his chest rising and falling with the effort of breathing, each inhale a struggle, each exhale a battle. “I don’t want to hurt… anymore.”

You let out a broken sob, your shoulders shaking, your fingers splayed against the glass as if you could somehow hold him together, keep him from slipping away. “Then don’t,” you begged. “Don’t leave me, don’t leave us. Stay, Touya. Please, stay. I need you. Our baby needs you.”

His eyes flickered open one last time. “I love you,” Touya breathed, the words barely more than a breath, but they were there, they were real, and they seared themselves into your soul.

And then, just like that, his eyes closed, and his breathing evened out, and you were left standing there, holding onto the glass, holding onto him, as the machines continued their relentless, mechanical rhythm. He drifted off yet again. His body was so exhausted he could only speak for a couple minutes per day before reaching his limit.

And all you could do was choke out, “I love you too, Touya. We love you so much,”" although you recognized that he had succumbed to unconsciousness and was beyond the reach of your voice.