#I’m too rational for this because if I want to off myself I want to guaranteee the offery not have any chance of coming out disabled and

[kavehater]

Hmm maybe if I like kaveh enough he will come home ? I’ve tried reverse psychology and it doesn’t work so maybe this is the best bet

[dreamwritesimagines]

Sunshine [7] - Heat Wave

AN: My loves, thank you so so much for your wonderful support and lovely comments and HCs! ❤️ You’re amazing! ❤️

I hope you like this as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! 🥰

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: There are many ways how a first date can end.

Word Count: 4400

CW: Explicit language, mentions of sex, drinking, adult themes MDNI

Series Masterlist

A rational and emotionally mature person would know that drunk calls were normal, and the aftermath was inevitable. Drinking too much sometimes led to that, everyone knew, and a rational and emotionally mature person was supposed to just handle it with dignity.

Too bad you weren’t that person.

“So you’re avoiding the hot lumberjack?”

“Can we stop calling him that?”

You repressed a laugh and filled Nik’s cup with coffee.

“Well, I wouldn’t say I’m avoiding him,” you said. “It’s just…you know, I’m sure Logan is a very busy individual so if anything, I’m doing him a favor by not distracting him. For all we know, he could be on a mission right now. Do you really want him to die because he’s answering my call? I couldn’t live with that on my conscience.”

“Sunshine—”

“He could be saving the world,” you pointed out. “Do you want the world to end because he is answering my call? Do you want me to be the person who causes the extinction of the whole humankind? I mean honestly what am I, a tech CEO?”

“You’re so avoiding him.”

You heaved a sigh, then leaned against the counter.

“I texted him the next morning.”

“But you didn’t call him?”

“I can’t call him,” you whined. “I’ve made a fool of myself.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Nik said and you tilted your head at Jamie who was eating his breakfast.

“How are you being so quiet about this? I thought you’d be thrilled that I’m avoiding him.”

“I am but I can’t comment on this whole thing, I have a conflict of interest.”

“Conflict of interest?”

“Yeah I hate the guy’s guts,” he stated before nodding at you. “Keep avoiding him, you’re better off without him.”

Nik gasped. “Jamie!”

“Babe, that guy is a walking red flag.”

“Even if it were true, he also looks like he belongs on the cover page of those vintage romance books my grandma has in her library.”

“Fabio?!”

“I don’t know his name Jamie, but in Logan’s case I’ll allow a little red.” Nik stated. “It’s been years since she got laid.”

Your jaw dropped. “No it hasn’t!”

“I’m half scared she’ll join a convent,” Nik said, motioning in your direction and making you roll your eyes.

“Guys.”

“She’s not just going to get laid, she’s already talking about moving to the mountains with that asshole.”

“It’s not a mountain, it’s a cabin in the woods!” you argued and Jamie shrugged his shoulders.

“Whatever it is.”

“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want to hear from me after that night,” you said. “I mean I totally made a move on him and…”

“And he turned you down because you were drunk!” Nik said with a smile and Jamie made a face.

“That’s like the bare minimum, don’t get impressed by that.”

“And when he maimed three guys for her?”

“The least he could do, considering what they threatened her with. Should’ve killed them if you ask me.”

A shiver ran down your spine but you made yourself busy with the tablecloth, wiping at the counter while Nik raised his brows.

“Driving her home so that she wouldn’t walk in the rain? Fixing her car? Going all the way from school to her neighborhood because he was worried about her being drunk and outside?”

“What are we, keeping a list now?”

“Darling I know you’re very adamant about hating this guy but you do have to admit the things he’s been doing for her are the opposite of a red flag,” Nik said, patting his hand as if trying to console him and Jamie heaved a sigh.

“I hate this.”

“So you think I should call him?” you asked Nik and he nodded.

“You should.”

“I disagree.”

“Well aware of that Jamie.”

“I hate him.”

“Figured that one as well, strange as it sounds,” Nik said before turning to you. “Call him.”

You nibbled on your lip, then motioned at Stacey and held up your phone, making her nod before you made your way out of the diner. Taking a deep breath, you found his name on the screen and touched it before taking the phone to your ear.

It rang only once.

“Hey princess.”

“Logan, hi!” you said, your heart pacing in your chest. “Um, are you busy?”

“Not at all,” he said. “Took you a while to sober up huh?”

You could feel your lips curling into a smile at his teasing remark.

“I may or may not have been avoiding you,” you admitted, biting at your nails. “I’m sorry.”

“Not a problem,” he said with a small chuckle. “Why were you avoiding me?”

You shrugged your shoulders as if he could see you.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled. “Reasons.”

He hummed and you shifted your weight before you leaned back to the wall of the diner.

“Thank you by the way,” you said. “For…that whole night. And I’m sorry for—for making a move on you, that’s very unlike me and I—”

“Are you free tonight?”

Your head shot up, your eyes widening at his question and you felt your breath catching in your throat before you swallowed.

“Me?” you felt the need to ask and he paused for a moment as if he didn’t know how to answer that.

“…Yes?”

“As in tonight tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“Uh—sure!” you said, your voice going high pitched for a moment. “I’d love that!”

“Great, I can pick you up from the diner—”

“No!” you cut him off as you looked down at your uniform, frowning slightly. “I need to drop by my place first.”

“That’s fine,” he said. “I can pick you up from there then. Does 8 work for you?”

“Yeah!” you said breathlessly as you nodded your head so fast that you got dizzy for a second, blinking fast. “It totally works for me.”

“Great,” he said. “See you tonight then.”

“See you,” you said and hung up, then let out a squeal and pressed the phone to your chest, jumping up and down in your spot. You took a deep breath, then fixed your hair and made your way back into the diner to rush to the counter again.

“He asked me out!” you whispered to Nik, grabbing his arm. “Just now, he asked me out!”

Jamie let out a whine and buried his face into his palms while Nik grinned at you, patting Jamie on the back in a reassuring manner.

“See? Told you.”

“We’re meeting tonight! At 8!” you said and paused for a moment. “Oh my God what do I wear?”

“A Regency gown.”

“Jamie I love you but not now,” Nik told him before he turned to you. “We’ll videocall okay? You, me and Julie.”

“Okay.”

“And after you and Logan become a couple, we can have a double date.”

That was enough to make Jamie lift his head from his hands. “Absolutely fucking not.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll convince him,” Nik told you and you let out a giggle, your insides all warm with excitement.

“Nik,” you said. “I really really like him.”

Nik let out an “aw!” and reached out to squeeze your hand.

“That’s good!” he said. “I mean granted we will grill him about his intentions with you but it’s a great start.”

Jamie opened his mouth to disagree but Nik elbowed him, shooting him a glare. You suppressed your laugh as Jamie heaved a sigh, then turned to you.

“Just…” he said. “Be careful. Please?”

“Always am,” you promised him with a grin. “The pie is on me by the way. For emotional support.”

                                            *

It wasn’t that you hadn’t been on dates.

Nik was quite the matchmaker, so was Julie. In fact, for the last year, they had been acting like their sole purpose in life was to find you a boyfriend so if anything, you had been on too many dates.

Not that—

Not that you assumed this was a date.

Even if you were wearing matching lingerie underneath your dress.

You were basically buzzing with anticipation as you stared at your reflection in the mirror, fixing your hair before smoothing down your dress. Your wardrobe looked like it had exploded and for a moment the possibility of bringing Logan back to your apartment crossed your mind, making your heart skip a happy beat. You gathered up all your clothes into your arms to push them into the wardrobe, then put your hands on your hips, tilting your head to the side.

“Good enough,” you mumbled and walked to your vanity to check on your makeup, then went to the living room to approach the small fish tank. You grabbed the fish food next to it, then sprinkled it into the tank carefully before dragging your finger over the glass, following their movements.

Theo was going to be so happy when he saw them.

Your head whipped around when you heard the doorbell ring, your heart beating in your ears and to make it worse you knew very well that he could hear it but you refused to dwell on it, so you made your way to the door to open it.

Fuck, you were beginning to think you were never going to get used to just how hot he was.

“Hi!”

“Hi princess,” he said, his deep voice making your stomach do a happy flip as he looked you up and down. “You look beautiful.”

Oh dear God, you were not going to survive tonight.

“Thanks, so do you,” you said with a smile before you turned around to get your jacket and purse. “So um, where are we going?”

Where you were going turned out to be a cozy bar with soft music playing in the background. It was somehow so Logan, there was no chaos, no deafening noise or blinding lights.

Just pure comfort; the kind that made you almost lightheaded, warming your insides.

“So why exactly were you avoiding me?” Logan asked as the waiter put his whiskey and your cocktail on the table and you took a shaky breath, forcing yourself to focus on the question rather than how handsome he looked under the dim light of the bar as you crossed your arms on the table.

“I mean…” you trailed off, scrunching up your face for a moment. “I was embarrassed.”

“Why?”

“Uh I don’t know if you remember that night,” you tried to joke your way through discomfort. “But it wasn’t what one would call dignified.”

He shot you a lighthearted glare and you shrugged your shoulders.

“I turn into a very impulsive person when I’m drunk,” you admitted and his lips quirked into a smile.

“Yeah I don’t know that many people who buy fish when they’re drunk.”

“Oh you don’t know the half of it,” you said with a laugh. “I have a worse drunk story actually.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah, on my senior year in high school, me and my friends got drunk and in our town there was this guy who was a dog breeder,” you said. “And we knew he was terrible to them, we wrote petitions and everything for the town council to do something but there was no use. So one night, we knew he was out of town so we broke into his house and stole all the dogs.”

He raised his brows, smiling slightly. “Seriously?”

“Yeah! And we kept all of them at my friend’s house and one by one we got them adopted. The guy knew we did it, but there was no chip or anything so he couldn’t do anything.”

“Wow,” he said, a chuckle vibrating in his chest. “So you turn into a vigilante when you’re drunk, got it.”

“I do,” you said, raising your cocktail in a mock of toast before taking a sip while he leaned back. “I love animals. I was actually studying to be a—” you paused for a moment. “Well, studying is a big word for it considering I dropped out without even completing my freshman year, but I was studying to be a vet before Theo.”

He tilted his head. “Really?”

“Mm hm.”

“Classmate?” he asked and you licked your lips, an icy spark replacing the happy warmth inside of you.

“Uh,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant. “T.A actually.”

Logan pulled his brows together and you took a sip of your cocktail.

“Trust me, I know how fucked up it sounds now,” you said with a small laugh. “But back then I didn’t and it worked out very well for him.”

“That guy really sounds like he needs to get his ass beat.”

“Oh Jamie actually beat him up once,” you pointed out. “In what became known as The Legendary Bar Fight. We celebrate it once a year with drinks.”

“You could give me his address.”

“Absolutely not, and I don’t even know where he is to be honest,” you said. “Anyway, why are we talking about him? Also why am I the one doing all the talking yet again?”

“I like listening to you talk.”

You could feel your cheeks growing warmer and a smile curled your lips.

“Until I give you a headache.”

“Never gonna happen.”

 Your smile widened as you looked down at your cocktail, shifting your weight.

“Well, either way,” you mumbled. “It’s your turn now.”

“Oh, my turn?”

“I barely know anything about you,” you admitted. “Other than the fact that you have been saving me a lot since we met.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “What do you want to know?”

“Whatever you’re willing to tell me,” you said. “What did you want to be when you grew up?”

“Alive.”

Your brows pinched together as you took a deep breath.

“Limited options, got it,” you said. “Were your family also mutants?”

“My brother,” he said. “Victor. We don’t…talk anymore.”

Something in his tone was distant, so you decided not to push it.

“Do you like working for Professor X?” you asked, steering the conversation to safer waters and that seemed to pull him out of his thoughts as he nodded his head.

“Yeah,” he said. “Charles is the best man I’ve ever met. Don’t tell him I said that though.”

“Cross my heart,” you said with a giggle, proud of yourself for finding a better subject. “How did you meet him?”

“He found me back when I was a cage fighter.”

You blinked a couple of times. “Sorry, a cage fighter?”

“Yeah I was uh…” he paused for a moment. “Wandering.”

“How does one become a cage fighter?”

“Wrong crowd,” he joked, making you let out a laugh.

“I’d bet. And now you are part time teacher, part time…going on missions.”

“Mm hm.”

“And you have a costume,” you mused as he shook his head slightly. “Any chance I’ll get to see you in it?”

“If you ask nicely.”

A fire spread over your cheeks at the teasing tone in his voice and you scrunched up your nose at him.

“I’m always nice,” you pointed out nonchalantly. “Or has it escaped your attention?”

“Trust me, it hasn’t.”

His lips twitched when a smile warmed your face and that soft light started gleaming in his eyes.

“Okay,” you said, sitting up straight. “Another question.”

“Shoot.”

“You really didn’t get a handkerchief?”

He scoffed a laugh. “You remember that?”

“Unfortunately.”

“As I said, I had other priorities in mind.”

You narrowed your eyes a little. “I could see you in period clothing, now that I imagine it...”

“Please stop imagining me like that.”

“Like those long jackets, long boots—oh my God,” you gasped, making him raise his brows. “Logan!”

“I’m not gonna like what you’re about to say, am I?”

“A top hat!”

Logan nodded to himself. “Yep, called it.”

“No seriously,” you insisted. “On Halloween—”

“Absolutely not.”

You let out a small laugh.

“Nik throws these amazing Halloween parties and the theme was ‘write your own story’ a couple years back,” you said. “So I got this huge dress, like…17th century huge, with a corset and everything, and no one really thinks about it but it is quite hard to unlace a corset—" you tilted your head when you saw his smirk. ”Hey!”

Logan held up his hands, gesturing surrender.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Let me guess, you’re painfully familiar with how to unlace a corset?”

“Still not saying anything.”

You hummed, trying to adapt a serious expression.

“Anyway, Casanova,” you said. “So my story was, there’s this girl, who was betrothed to the love of his life, and then he gets lost at the sea and everyone is convinced that his ship sank, but the plot twist, he wasn’t dead so he comes back but he’s a vampire, and he turns her into a vampire as well –obviously with consent— and they live happily ever after.”

“Quite the love story.”

“Thank you,” you said happily. “So no handkerchief?”

“No handkerchief.”

You hummed, then heaved a sigh.

“Very well then,” you said and grabbed your purse to take out a pen, then pulled the napkin on the table to yourself to write your initials on it. You pulled back to look at it better, then held it out for him.

“There you go, Mr. I had other priorities.” you said with a grin. “A make do handkerchief.”  

The fond look on his face was enough to make your heart skip a happy beat as he stared at you, then took it from you and folded it before he pulled out his wallet, making your eyes widen.

“Oh I was just—you don’t have to actually keep it, it’s a silly joke,” you stammered and he shot you a glance of disbelief as if he was surprised that you thought he wouldn’t.

“I’ll keep it,” he said while placing it into his wallet in such a careful manner that one simple observer would think it was something incredibly precious for him rather than just a bar napkin. You blinked a couple of times, gawking at him.

“Really?”

“Really.”

You were painfully aware of the heart eyes you were giving him so you forced yourself to drag your gaze from him to your cocktail and took a huge sip, your heart still beating in your ears.

“Okay then,” you said, taking a deep breath. “I hope you’re ready for more questions, because I have like a million of them.”

                                            *

You had insisted walking after leaving the bar. It wasn’t that far away from your apartment, the weather was so nice, and you had hoped it would make him see you were completely sober, just in case it had escaped his attention how you had only drunk one cocktail in like two hours.

You had plans for tonight and it included him and your bed, God damn it.

“So you actually were a lumberjack?”

“I was cutting down trees and turning them into logs.”

“That’s what a lumberjack does,” you insisted as you walked beside him. “Julie has superpowers, I swear…”

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly. “And you had a real cabin in the woods?”

“Something like that.”

“Are they still hiring?” you asked him, making him let out a laugh. “Seriously, I want a cabin in the woods.”

“For your Hi-Horse?”

Your heart skipped a beat as you stared up at him. “You remember that?”

“Of course,” he said as if he wasn’t melting your heart with that simple fact and you licked your lips.

“Did you have a horse?”

“Nope.”

“You had a cabin in the woods and you didn’t have a horse and two dogs and a cat?” you asked, pretending to be scandalized. “That’s just being short sighted, Logan.”

“Not all of us want to have a zoo, sweetheart.”

“It’s not a zoo!” you said with a gasp, making him grin.

“A farm then.”

“It’s not a farm,” you argued. “Farms have sheep.”

“Oh you don’t want sheep?”

“Of course I do but that’s beside the point,” you said. “It’s not a farm—”

“What are the sheep’s names?”

“Shearlock and Wooly Wonka,” you muttered, coaxing a chuckle out of him.

“Very creative.”

“Thank you,” you said. “I think it’s against the law to not have animals if you have a cabin in the woods.”

“It’s not.”

“Well it should be,” you said without hesitation and he bit back a smile as you stopped in front of your house.

Anticipation was swirling in your stomach, filling you with excitement and making your heartbeat faster. You knew he could hear it but for the first time, you didn’t mind it.

Desire was too strong to let you feel anything else.

“Um, so before I say what I’m about to say,” you said after a beat, turning to look at him better as you leaned back on the wall of the building. “I would like to point out that I’m completely one hundred percent sober.”

He tilted his head to the left, a mischievous light playing in his hazel eyes.

“Like, in case it has escaped your notice I only had one drink and it was a cocktail and it was a pretty light cocktail so like, half juice really,” you said. “And I’m not even buzzed, and even if I were buzzed, we walked here so fresh air would’ve helped. Which, it has no reason to help because to repeat I’m not even buzzed. I will blow on anything—that sounded wrong,” you corrected yourself, pulling your brows together. “Um, a breathalyzer I mean, if I blew into a breathalyzer it would come out a zero because I’m so sober, and—and—I don’t know if you paid attention to it, but I walked all the way here in a straight line, which should be the proof and if you didn’t, I can walk in a straight line right now to—”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence when he pulled you into a kiss.

You could swear the rest of the world stopped existing the moment his lips touched yours. His arm sneaked around your waist while he cradled the back of your head with his other hand, making your breath catch in your throat. Desire turned into fire in your veins, reaching your chest before it sent the warmth all over your body, making you dizzy. You gripped his shirt tighter in your fists, standing on your tiptoes, a soft whine escaping from your lips as soon as he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours.

“Fuck…” he whispered and you blinked up at him, nearly drunk in the haze.

“No I—I wanted you to do it,” you tried to find the right words through the fog of desire and he licked his lips, looking down at you before he shook his head slightly.

“You shouldn’t,” he rasped out and you pulled your brows together.

“I shouldn’t want you to do it?” you asked him, still trying to catch your breath and he nodded.

“I’m not…” he trailed off against your lips. “I’m no good for you.”

Your frown deepened before you let out a breath, and slowly reached out to cup his cheek. His eyes closed for a moment as if your mere touch was anchoring him to the moment, pulling him out of his own mind before he opened his eyes again to look at you. A tentative smile curled your lips and you thought for a moment before clearing your throat.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” you said, your voice soft. “I’ll be the one to decide whether you’re good for me or not. Alright?”

His eyes searched yours before he let out a breath, then nodded his head.

“Alright,” he said, his voice a murmur before he dipped his head down to kiss you again. A squeal escaped from you as he picked you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist and walked into the building. You had no idea how he didn’t lose his balance or hit anywhere on his way but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when he was kissing you like this, and you only noticed you had in fact reached your door when he pressed you against it.

“Inside, inside!” you giggled as you fished your keys out of your purse, and he held you with one arm, making your eyes widen while he took the keys from you and opened the door, then walked in and kicked the door shut behind him.

Oh God.

Oh God this was happening.

Now you understood what all those romance novels were talking about. You couldn’t pull yourself away from his kiss even if you wanted to, the fire had taken over your whole body until every single thought disappeared; the only thing that existed was him, and how good his lips made you feel. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you both fell on your bed, his weight taking your breath away for a moment before you unbuttoned his flannel and pushed it down his arms. He tossed it somewhere in the room and got rid of his white shirt underneath, making you let out a breath at his muscular body.

Jesus Christ.

Your fingertips grazed over his broad shoulders before slipping down to his hard chest and he helped you up to unzip your dress, his lips finding yours as if he couldn’t stand not kissing you even for a moment. He pulled back only to pull the dress off of you, but he froze as soon as his eyes fell on you.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” the whisper left his lips like a prayer and you felt your heart skip a beat despite the ever-consuming fire.

“Not really,” you teased him. “I just planned it.”

He raised a brow, a mischievous glint appearing in his eyes and he slid down to the foot of the bed, then grabbed your ankle to pull you down, making you let out a small scream before you giggled, propping yourself up on your elbows to see him better.

“What are you doing?”

He gave you a wolfish grin, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine as he knelt down at the foot of the bed, his fingers drawing lazy circles on your inner thighs.

“Well, princess,” he muttered, your heart leaping up to your throat when you realized what he was about to do. “You’re not the only one who planned things.”

8 - Scorching

[starmocha]

want me, need me, love me [Sylus/Reader ★ 1510 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] When you had made that plan to sell Sylus, you didn’t realize it would come back to (literally) bite you. A/N: This…was originally just a scenario, but I guess it turned into a ficlet in spite of my self-ban that I wasn’t going to write Sylus fics right now until I finish Bride of the Dragon King. In my defense, it’s only appropriate to post this during the cat banner and I always lie to myself <333 Snuck in some light breeding kink because @yourlocalcatscammer got into my brain and I fear I have already exposed myself enough with my last few fics so why bother hiding this anymore 🥹

It was pretend. Just a little ploy.

You knew it.

Sylus did too.

So how did it end up with you trapped underneath him on a couch, his face buried in the crook of your neck, his voice so hoarse and needy? He wouldn’t stop rubbing his cheek against you, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply.

“Sy-Sylus, what’s gotten into you?” You tried to push him off, but he was too heavy, too unwilling, too…gone. Was it because of the special gene product? It couldn’t have possibly rewired his whole demeanor, could it? You vaguely recalled him attempting to snatch a parrot earlier when, for a brief moment, the feline instinct in him was triggered. You continued to struggle. “Snap out of it!”

“Miss…you really are heartless,” he rasped, nibbling on your earlobe, “Letting another woman have me so casually?”

You flustered, confused. “What are you talking about?” You looked up at him wide-eyed, startled by the darkened gaze that peered down at you. You swallowed slowly, your words careful and measured, as if you were soothing an agitated wild animal, “Sylus…it wasn’t personal…”

He narrowed his eyes. “I know,” he said, his tone terse. His kissed along your shoulder, leaving little love bites along the way. You squirmed, feeling your body heating up under his feverish ministrations. He sighed and grunted softly, his touches growing bolder.

“Say I’m yours,” he mumbled into your neck, desperation laced his deep voice. He nuzzled his cheek against you over and over again, behaving just like a frustrated cat. The warmth of his breath ghosted over your skin, making you shivered as he husked, “Let me be yours.”

Want me.

“Sy-Sylus, snap out of it! What are you—ah…” Your words died at your lips, a gasp escaped. He had pushed your shirt up, your bra unhooked and tossed to the side without a care. Without hesitation, the Onychinus leader took your sweet little nipple into his warm mouth, his tongue swirling leisurely around the sensitive nub, making you arched up, gasping and crying from the sudden electrifying stimulation.

He grinded languidly against you, and as he suckled greedily, he murmured, “…touch me…my…my ears…”

Your mind was hazy, teetering between rationality and the growing lust that was clouding your judgement. You looked down at the head of silvery-white hair against you and the pair of cat ears twitching restlessly atop Sylus’ head. Nimbly, your fingers stroked the sensitive feline ear, feeling the soft tufts of fur between your fingers. He hummed happily, and he sucked harder.

“Ah—!”

His hands reached down to grab your hips, keeping you grounded against the couch. He brushed against you, and you trembled, feeling his bulge over your skirt.

“Sy-Sylus…”

He looked up, the normally haughty expression that graced the feared and notorious Onychinus leader’s face was gone. Right now, he wore a different expression, one that only you were allowed to see. He looked at you lust-filled and wanting, his lips slightly parted, soft sighs escaping. His eyes softened a little, enough for you to notice.

Need me.

You felt a burning ache inside you, one that he had started, and one that you knew only he could quell. Those soft crimson eyes of his beckoned you closer, silently urging you to let go, to submit to the growing heat between the two of you.

Hesitantly, you leaned up, taking his lips for yourself, long and slow. Sylus stilled, surprised, seemingly taking his time to register the moment. When he realized you were answering his silent pleas, he smiled against your lips. His ears flattened back as he kissed you deeper, his hands fumbled with both your clothes.

Your panties slipped off, his pants unzipped, and his hardened member freed from its confines. He nudged his hip forward, the head of his cock pressed against your slick folds. You gasped and gripped his jacket.

“…Take me…” he mumbled lazily, his mouth finding your nipple again. Your other breast was massaged, caressed and shamelessly groped, your sweet, irresistible moans lured out, answered by his own deep, sultry groans as he suckled hungrily.

You whimpered helplessly, giving up on your attempt to resist him. You were aching so much right now, wanting and needing him in a way you had never felt before. Your fingers found their way into his hair, getting lost in the silky strands. “…Y-yes…”

He moved forward and you arched up, crying out. More and more of him eased in, his deep groans were intoxicating, your own desires igniting as he filled you, your walls stretching wonderfully around the massive intrusion. You buried your face into his neck when he bottomed out, gasping into his shoulder as his arm wrapped around you securely. He guided you away from his shoulder and you lay beneath him nearly sobbing in frustration. He looked down at you, flushed cheeks and vulnerable. Again, his warm breath fanned against your mouth as he asked softly, “…Can I…”

“Yes!” You interrupted, your moans tumbling out as he started to move, slowly at first before he built a faster rhythm. Again, you vaguely wondered if he was still lost, still submissive to his feline instincts, because the way he was moving was much more animalistic than you would have expected. It was hurried, graceless, feral, but it was filling you just the way you wanted, the way you needed right now.

Every delicious stroke of his length had you mumbling deliriously, lost in this moment of heavenly pleasure. “Mm…ah…ah…Sy…Sylus…”

His lips found yours again, taking your moans selfishly. He groaned as you clenched around him. “…fuck…Miss…”

You cried out as he spread you more, pushing your legs back, taking you even deeper. “Oh god, oh god…!”

“Mm…breed you…need to breed you…make you mine…m…yours…yours…” He was moving more erratic, his words so frenzied and incoherent, you weren’t sure if he was even registering what he was saying. He was driven purely by a natural need, an instinct so feral, he seemed more animal than man in this moment.

You felt infected by him, by his words, your own traitorous body craving what he was saying. “Ah…yes…yes…ah…breed me…breed me, Sylus…” You weren’t thinking clearly anymore. There wasn’t a single rational thought left in your little head. The only thing you could focus on was his powerful thrusts, reaching you deep where you needed.

“O-oh, Sylus…”

So close. So close, you could feel yourself peaking. Just a little more, almost, almost—

“Mm…Miss…inside…?”

“Yes!” You cried out, your pitch higher than normal, so desperate and needy. He thrusted forward, pushing in even deeper with a heavy groan. His eyes met yours for a moment before you closed yours, screaming out your climax as he coated your walls with his seeds, filling you fuller than you thought was possible.

Distantly, you could hear Sylus mumbling in between his moans.

Love me.

“…mine…yours…yours…”

You panted softly, hearing his own breathing matching your own. You moaned, whimpering as he pulled out, feeling his seed dripping out of your cunt. Slowly, you opened your eyes, seeing Sylus’ flushed face close to yours. He still appeared to be under his feline influence, looking dazed and lost.

Your eyes traveled all over, taking in his satiated expression, seeing the sweats on his glistened skin.

“Ah…oh, I have my lipstick on you.” You touched his lips, seeing red lipstick smeared across. You rubbed your thumb against his mouth, trying to wipe it clean. He stopped you.

He smiled, almost delirious with joy. “Good,” Sylus husked, “You should cover me all over. Mark me as yours.”

Before you could respond, his face was buried in your chest again, his arms tightening around your waist. He nuzzled against you, behaving much more docile now. You rubbed the back of his head for a bit, the soothing act calming him even more. It didn’t take long before you realized he had fallen asleep on top of you. His breathing had slowed, the rhythm steady. He seemed much more relaxed than he was earlier.

You scratched the feline ear atop his head, smiling softly when it twitched in response to your light touch. Sylus instinctively hummed softly in his sleep, pleased.

When he would wake up later, you wondered would he even have remembered what had happened? Would he remember how he had behaved, the words he had spoken? Would he deny it? Make excuses?

You smiled.

You didn’t particularly care. You saw the real him. He would always lower his guard around you, always be transparent about how he felt about you, and now tonight, you realized it wasn’t just that he desired you, but he wanted you to reciprocate as well. Wanted you to be possessive of him, to want and need him in the same way that he felt for you.

To be equally possessive of one another, a mutual obsession with one another.

You almost laughed aloud. Why, what an exquisite idea, you thought to yourself.

You kissed your fingers before pressing them along Sylus’ cheek. He purred softly.

How cute.

[monzabee]

pon de replay - cl16 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where Charles decide to prove to everyone that it is him that you belong to, and only him.

Pairing: charles leclerc x reader 

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: smuttt, nothing but pure filth, one might even say it is pwp, unprotected sex (cover your willy don’t be silly), oral (f receiving), kinda exhibitionism?, public sex, jealous charles, possessive charles, carlos being a little shit because he’s bored, poor lando, not even sure if i fulfilled the request or not, minors dni!! 

Request: “HELLOOOO! i have an idea and you don’t have to write it but it’s been rattling around in my brain and im never gonna write it (i constantly have way too many ideas to write them fr) myself so i figured i’d send it to you cause you’ve kinda restored my F1 phase with your work. basically, reader being very goofy, funny, and maybe a little bit too loud at times. just like a very silly and bubbly personality and she hangs out with some of the f1 boys (maybe because she’s famous in her own right like a dancer or something) so naturally EVERYONE ships her with lando. like hardcore, almost as bad as one direction fans ships (iykyk), and it sorta makes sense cause when they’re together it’s pure and utter chaos and they both express themselves with physical touch B U T ! she’s actually with charles. to her it makes total sense to be with charles instead of lando cause while lando is definitely attractive he’s too much like her and it’d be like dating herself whereas charles brings out a new calm side to her and she can bring out a goofier side to him. opposites attract type shit😭. maybe a little angst cause charles hates seeing all the edits and also feels a little insecure cause lando and reader DO make sense together in his mind so why’d you pick him instead? then like soft fluff/smut reassurance that charles is literally the man of her dreams, a literal fucking prince, and the best person she’s ever been with. ANYWAYS, im rambling! again, you don’t have to write this if you don’t connect with it or don’t have time i just needed an outlet SOMEWHERE for all the F1 brain rot.”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i first of all want to start by saying that i’m very sorry that this isn’t exactly like the request, like at all, but it took me a criminal amount of time to actually get this finished so we’re not going to focus on that. okay? okay, great!! in all and all it was actually quite fun to work on this at the beginning, it was just kinda hard for some reason to work on the actual smut part, but i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Charles wouldn’t call himself a possessive person, not a chance. He might be ambitious, and competitive, but possessive? That, he is not. He’s never been the type of get jealous of his partner’s friends, whether male or female, because he likes to think that he is mature enough to understand that people have friends. It’s that simple. And he is most definitely not the type of person to comment on what you wear when you’re going out, he is just not that guy. He’s fairly certain that his mother would materialise out of thin air and give him a good beating if he were to do that. So when you asked him about the dress you have on earlier before you left his apartment, the one that clings to your body so tightly that he can practically make out the outline of your tits from across the room? He just smiled and told you to have fun tonight – because he’s there to make sure you’re not put off by anyone staring at you in it.

So yeah. He’s not usually the type to let the jealousy take over his ability to think things out rationally, but when his girlfriend is dancing her heart away in the middle of the dance floor while every red-blooded men watch her with the same look in their eyes? Yeah, it’s not easy to keep his emotions in check at the moment given the circumstances. And it’s not that he even intends to pout like a petulant child at the bar, making sure to keep an eye on you, it’s just that he is an expressive person and his face reflects what he’s feeling that well. Totally because of that. It’s scary how utterly focused he is on you, watching your every move to make sure no one is bothering you, though you don’t seem to be in need of his help as he watches you dance with one of the girls you met when you first arrived to the club – and with Lando, though he tries not to focus on that part too much.

It's fine, though, he tries to make himself believe, it’s fine as long as you’re having fun. Though that doesn’t necessarily stop him from throwing daggers into Lando’s direction as covertly as he can. The way he has a friendly arm around you is driving him crazy, and he is not above stomping over there to pull you under his arm, drag you to the nearest bathroom and– Well, maybe he shouldn’t get too far ahead of himself just yet.

“They look good together, no?” He hears someone ask him from the side. He realises it is his teammate when he turns to give the person a glare.

“Who?” He asks, deciding to play dumb, but he can’t help himself as he makes a face while focusing his gaze back on you.

“You know who I’m talking about, cabrón!” Carlos exclaims, laughing as he pats him on the back and points to the two of you with a tilt of his head, “I’m glad he’s finally doing something about it rather than sulking around like a geriatric toddler.”

If he would have turned around any faster, Charles is sure his neck would actually, possibly, break. “What?” he spits out as he turns around, “Do you mean her and Lando?”

Carlos gives his teammate a confused look, “Yes,” he drawls out, “you didn’t know he had a crush on her? I thought the entire paddock knew!” Charles feels a surge of disbelief and a tinge of anger bubbling within him.

He wouldn't call it possessiveness, more like a primal instinct to protect what's his. But this revelation catches him off guard, shattering his carefully constructed facade of nonchalance. With doing his best to keep calm under the situation, he asks, “Are you sure you’re not making things up? I feel like you’re misreading the situation here.”

That receives another confused look from his teammate, and though Charles is quite the perceptive person, he misses Carlos starting to put the pieces together – thanks to his overreaction. “I guess so,” Carlos mumbles, loud enough for Charles to hear him in the loud club, “he’s always talking about her, though. The way she smiles, her hair, her dresses; did you know he even went to see one of her performances in Vegas?” Carlos feels bad, really, but there is also something so fulfilling in confirming his theories as he watches his teammate’s eyes bulge out at the mention of one of your dance shows in Vegas. Because Charles knows what those entail.

“I-in Vegas?” He stutters out, eyes moving to focus on your dancing figure again. And at that moment, he absolutely hates Lando. He hates him for having his arms around you, he hates him for dancing with you to the beat in a rhythm he never seems to be able to keep up with, he hates him for the way everybody seems to think the two of you seem to make a handsome couple, and he absolutely hates him for the way he makes you smile.

Charles Leclerc is not a possessive guy – until it comes to you, that is.

“Charles?” He hears Carlos call out his name, but he’s out of his seat long before he can hear the end of his sentence. He doesn’t mean to stomp across the dance floor to get to you. He really doesn’t. He also doesn’t mean to grab you by your arm and put a pause on your fun. And the smile you give him and the way you wrap your arms around his neck while you call him ‘Charlie’? Makes his heart stutter in a way that makes him forget why he ever came over in this first place. Because this should be normal – you, having male friends and spending time with them should not make him insecure. He should be fine with you and Lando spending time together because you both love the hustle and bustle of a club. But at that moment, he doesn’t care about what should be normal, no. He cares about the fact that someone other than him has managed to make you smile, and that he needs to remind you that he’s the only one who should be on the receiving end of all your smiles.

So when he drags you away from the dancefloor (and Lando, for that matter), he doesn’t listen to your objections. He doesn’t care about the way Carlos is watching from his place from the bar, putting all the pieces together as he shares a look with Lando. And he most definitely doesn’t care about the fact that he’s about to fuck you in the club’s bathroom. Well, maybe he does care about that last part. “Charlie,” you whine, your voice clearly scratched from shouting along the lyrics of the songs playing throughout the night, and he doesn’t miss the way you slur his name ever so slightly – which tells him that you had at least two drinks. Cosmopolitans, if he had to guess. “Pleaaase,” you drag out the word, pulling on his shirt to get his attention, “they are playing my song!”

His first mistake is to look at you, because the way your lips form a pout and the way you’re giving him puppy dog eyes is usually strong enough for him to give in. Though this is no usual situation. So instead of moving the two of you back to the dancefloor, he grabs you by your cheeks and presses his lips against you. In the middle of the club, where everybody can see him doing it. The way his lips move against yours is aggressive, and you’re definitely out of breath when he does move away. Cosmopolitans, he realises after tasting you. You've had cosmopolitans. Then, he just gives you a look, threads his fingers through yours and raises an eyebrow. Then he asks, “Are you going to be a good girl and come with me now, or should I do this the hard way and just carry you on my shoulder?”

If this was any other situation, you would totally say something bratty back. Hell, you might have actually said something rude if it meant him being rough with you, maybe spanking you a few times just enough times for you to learn your lesson. But you understand that this is no ordinary situation from his voice and the expression on his face. Charles is like that, you suppose. He’s an open book – meaning that it is very easy to understand what kind of a mood he’s in just by looking at his face, or listening to the undertone of his voice. And right now? Right now you know he’s pissed. You don’t necessarily know what you did, nor do you care. Mainly because all you want to do is make him feel better simply because of the reason that he is one of those people who’s just meant to smile at all times, not frown.

And so you nod gingerly, squeaking out a thimble, “Yes.” You finally meet his eyes as you wrap yourself around his arm, pushing yourself closer to him in the crowded club. “I’ll be good.”

This thumb does that thing where he caresses your knuckle, and he starts moving you through the crowd again. This time, however, you try to stick to him by matching the speed of his steps rather than trying to stay back. You told him you’d be good, you intend to keep your promise. He’s quiet all the way to the bathroom, and he’s quiet when he motions you to get inside, and he’s quiet when he closes to door and promptly locks it behind your back. You think for a moment you’re just there for a chat, maybe about that something you might’ve done, but Charles takes you by surprise as he grabs your waist and pushes you against the door, causing your eyes to widen with realisation of what you’re about to do in that bathroom.

“Charles, what’s wrong?” You try to ask, but he shuts you up with another kiss. And if you thought the previous kiss was aggressive, this one absolutely consumes you. He doesn’t even give you a fighting chance as his tongue quickly dominates yours, and he is relentless as he nips at your lower lip. You can’t help the mortifying moan that leaves your lips, and you push him away to inhale deeply. “What has gotten into you?” You ask, eyes wide due to the adrenaline coursing through your veins, “What happened?”

“You, happened.” He growls. And by that, you mean that he actually growls. His voice is a few octaves deeper than his usual voice, and you can see that he’s snappy. There is this dark look in his eyes that would otherwise scare you if you didn’t know him, but you do. Because he’s your Charles.

And you know this because the quickly leans into your touch when you bring one of your hands up to cup his cheek, giving him a confused look. “Did I do something?” You ask, voice soft amidst the humid bathroom. “Oh my god, is it my dress? Is it too short?” Your eyebrows draw closer as you start properly spiralling. “I knew I should’ve worn the shorts, why didn’t you say something?”

Your mini monologue about your party attire must have struck a chord because Charles suddenly exhales heavily, his forehead resting against yours as he closes his eyes. “No, non, it's not about the fucking dress,” he lashes out, his voice strained, and lace with something else that you can’t quite catch. “I don’t care what you wear, though I do appreciate the easy access.”

“Easy access?” You repeat, testing out the words as you come to a realisation. “What?” You exclaim, quickly taking your hand away from his face to lightly slap at his chest. “No! We are definitely not doing that here, are you out of your mind? You pulled me away because you can’t keep it in your pants until we’re home?”

“And why not?” He asks, and this time, you can see the unbridled rage behind his look. “Would you rather go back to Lando out there? You looked quite happy in his arms after all.”

And the realisation dawns on you right then and there. That this isn’t about your choice of dress for the evening, no. It is about Lando. Though you don’t get that part, since he’s both of your friend, so why is Charles being like this? And you would ask him, of course. But the look he gives you indicates that he doesn’t want to be tested in that exact moment.

So instead, you attempt to calm him down, by dragging your hand gently down his chest and wrapping your arms around his middle. He is like that, your Charles, sometimes he just wants to be held to see reason. “Charlie,” you call out, voice soft as you give him a pleading look, “why don’t you tell me what this is about, hm?”

You think he’s going to finally give in for a moment, but then he just gives you a blank stare. “I don’t want to talk,” he grunts, pulling you flush against him by the hands he has on your waist. His lips are on your neck faster than you can say anything, working his way towards your collarbones. The faint whimpers that come out of your lips bring a small smile to his lips knowing that he’s the one causing them, not Lando or any other guy.

“Charles,” you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair as his lips trail along your skin. Despite the confusion and frustration swirling within you, you can't deny the way his touch ignites a fire deep within you, consuming your thoughts and leaving you breathless with desire. But as much as you crave his touch, you know that there are unresolved issues between you, issues that need to be addressed before you can fully give yourself to him in this moment. “Charlie,” you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper as you gently push against his chest, urging him to stop. “Stop, we need to talk about this.”

“Talk about what?” He asks, all breathy and with a wild look in his eyes. You can see that he’s trying to hold himself back, but at the same time his hands keep moving on your body in a way that makes you want to let him lose control and perhaps even join him. He successfully ignores your attempts at pushing him away, sliding his hands down on your body to grab the hem of your dress, clenching the material in his hand while dragging it upwards on your thighs until he reaches the soft skin of your stomach. “I have a thing in mind which might help me feel better.” Unable to take your eyes off of him, you take a stuttered breath as you watch him slowly get down on his knees, his lips pressing kisses starting form your sternum continuing down your body over your dress until you feel his lips on the exposed skin of your stomach. His kisses stop once he’s met with the top lining of your underwear, looking at you with a mischevious glint in his eyes as he nips at the nimble lace adorning the top. You call out his name in a weak whimper – though it is not clear to you, nor him, whether you’re asking him to stop or go on. Charles decides to go with the latter. “You know what to say if you want me to stop.”

You don’t really need his reminder, you realise, but it is a welcome one. Your cheeks blush even further when you feel his gaze on you as he lowers his face towards your core, leaving a sweet kiss onto your clit through the fabric of your thong. Suddenly, you want nothing more than to just rip to whole thing apart so there is nothing separating you from him, but you know the game, and you especially know that the ending is sweeter than what you could ever imagine at that moment. And so you wait – you wait until he eventually makes his move and gives your slit a generous lick through the fabric. Watching you is equal parts thrilling and painful, mainly because he wants to drag out his teasing as long as possible just to see you falling apart for him. It’s second nature to you, the way your hand threads through his hair to move him the way you want to, but it is of course not an option because it’s Charles who is in charge.

He makes this known by the way he pulls away, ignoring the way your hands scramble to guide him back to where you want him to be. He nips at the skin of your thigh in a warning manner, pulling a whine from your lips as he fixes you with a look, “You’re not in control tonight, mon bijou, I’ll stop if you try to take over. You got that?” It’s sobering to see him take control in such a way, you sweet little Charles. Usually, he has no problem just laying back and letting you take all the control, or even just making you believe you do. But now? With the way he’s looking at you with such hunger? You know you’d be soaking through your underwear if you weren’t so wet for him already. All you can do is offer him a meek nod, with your lips hanging open in shock, but he is not satisfied with your answer. No, he needs to hear you say the words. So, being the initiative person that he his, he tips at your skin again, this time earning himself a whimper along a grumble about how he’s being unreasonable. He isn’t, but that’s a topic to discuss another time, he decides. “I said, you got that?”

“Yes! Fine, yes!” You whine, grabbing your dress even tighter with your fist that isn’t buried in his hair, “Please just make me come.”

“See?” He asks, flashing you a sweet smile as he lowers his face back onto where you need him the most, “It wasn’t that hard now, is it?” The grumble about how he’s about to be the hard one, makes him chuckle to himself, the rumbling from it making you moan his name as he finally gives you what you want. His tongue works fast as he laps on the wetness through your underwear, soaking the material even more without a care in the world. If you weren’t wet before, you’re sure you’re definitely wet as he drags his tongue through your slit and back onto your clit to suck it through the fabric, causing you to let out a string of moans, each getting considerably louder as he works on your cunt.

The breath is knocked out of your lungs as the moments pass, as you become closer and closer to your impending release. You don’t even notice the fact that you’ve started to move your hips to match the rythym of his tongue, seeking something more to make you tip over the edge. You’re also very aware of the fact that Charles is letting you what you want to do, and though you’re scared out of you midn that he’ll stop like he threatened to do before, the little nod he gives you when you give him a pleading look assures you that he also wants you to come undone on his face.

Or so you’ve thought.

Because he knows your body so well that jus as you’re about to come he pulls back, leaving you high and dry, and even has the nerve to chuckle when he hears his name coming out of your mouth in a high pitched whine. You’re so lost in the moment that you almost miss the way he gently grabs your hands and removes them from his hair, pinning them above you and pushing you against the wall. “Why?” You whine, lips pushed out in a pout as your voice gets gradually whinier, “I was so close, Charles.”

“Oh, baby,” he cooes, “I know you were, I could feel it too.” He starts peppering your feverish skin with kisses, as if to say sorry for leaving you on the brink of an orgasm, and you find yourself arching your neck to expose more of your skin to his skillfull lips. You should stop him, some part of you screams to you in your head, because with the way he’s disguising the fact that he’s marking you with hickeys, but you don’t care at that moment. Your every breath and moan seem to motivate him to work faster, and harder, and when he eventually pulls back to leave a bruising kiss on your lips. A smirk finds its way onto his lips as he gives you an eyeing down, taking in how breathless you look. “Don’t worry, mon bijou, I’ll fuck you now, okay?”

You don’t even realise the nod you give him, too lost in his eyes to put words together to form a proper sentence. He’s gentle with you as he lets go of your hands and positions you the way he wants. With one of your legs wrapped around his hip he has better access to your soaked underwear, his fingers working quickly to pulling it aside. You don’t know when he managed to get himself free from his pants and underwear, but that doesn’t stop you from letting out a loud moan when you feel the tip of his cock circling your clit. “Please, please, please,” your voice cracks as you frantically beg him to do something more. You’d love nothing more than to scold him for the way he shushes you condescendingly, but any complaint you had evaporates when you feel him nudge your entrance. “Please,” you breathe out again, giving him pleading looks as you try to pull him closer somehow, “You promised me you’d fuck me.”

That manages to pull out a beathy chuckle for him, and as if he’s trying to console you, you feel his fingers gently caressing the skin of your hip. “Why don’t you do it yourself, hm?” A grin widens on his lips when you give him a look of confusion, and he leads one of your hands between your bodies for you to wrap it around his cock. “You want me inside you, right?” He rewards your tentative nod with a series of kisses down the column of your throat, “Come on then,” he mumbles into your skin, “put it in, pretty girl.” Exhaling a shaky breath, you keep your eyes on him as you guide him through your entrance. A gasp is torn from your lips when you feel his tip entering you, the initial stretch being more overwhelming because of the fact that you’re standing up. But Charles is quick to soothe you with his kisses down your neck, letting you control the rhythym and how further he can move inside you at first. With your hand making its way down to his hip, pressing him close to you, he quickly gets the message that you’re ready for him. “You’re ready?” He double-checks, raising his head to fix his eyes to yours.

“I swear to god if you don’t fuck me right now–” Your words are interrupted when you feel him move his hips back, just enough to have his tip inside you, and then he snaps his hips forward to thrust back in, making your breath hitch at the back of your throat. It doesn’t take very long for you to become a moaning mess, in fact, you’re more than ready to fall apart for him then and there, but you know he won’t let you until he gets his point across.   

“Look at you, mon bijou,” Charles darkly chuckles, hips matching the rhythym of the song playing outside at the dance floor, “what would people think if they saw you being such a mess for me in a club’s bathroom?” And the whine you let out in response to his question nothing if pathethic, but you can’t find it in you to care because of how good he’s making you feel. “Yes?” He prompts you, mocking the whiny ‘Yes’, that leaves your mouth before you start begging him to let you come. But he doesn’t, because he knows you can hold it until he’s ready for you too, and he tells you just that.

“So good, Charlie, so good,” you can’t help the broken moans you let out as he fucks you to the brink of an orgasm. But that is not enough for him, no. He needs everyone to know the two of you are together now, needs to get out all of his pent up frustrations out.

So when the opportunity presents itself with Lando knocking on the door asking if you are okay? A knowing smirk find its way onto his lips, and you try to silently plead with him with your eyes. “You want to cum?” He whispers in your ear, his thrusts becoming faster. “Say my name if you want to come, baby.”

“Please–” You gasp, hands grabbing the shirt he’s wearing. It’s no avail even if you try to keep your voice down. Because when Charles finds a way to slither his hand down between your legs and starts rubbing your clit in firm circles? You know there is no way you can stay quiet through your orgasm. “Why?” You manage to get out, “God, Charles please.”

“Tell me who’s making you feel so good, pretty girl.” He encourages you, his rhythym now almost brutal as he tries his best to make you come for him. “Come on, tell me who you belong to.” He chuckles darkly when he sees you shaking your head. “It’s not Lando, it’s me. You hear that?” Uh-huh, is the only answer he receives in return, but he is of course not satisfied with it. So, he gently pinches the inside of your thigh. “Tell me who’s going to make you come, or I’ll stop.”

“N-no!” You exclaim, too overwhelmed to see that his threat is an empty one, because he would never actually do something like that to you. “Please, please don’t stop.”

“Come on,” he cooes, the sweet words he whispers into your skin making you more and more malleable to his request. “Say my name baby, let me hear you.”

“Charles,” your loud moan cuts the heavy air in the bathroom. Cheeks flushed, breath unorganised and with that wild look in your eyes? There’s nothing Charles wouldn’t do for you. With every move of his hips, you moan his name louder, eventually tipping over the edge as he feels you squeezing his cock so tight that he almost loses himself then and there.

That’s not to say he doesn’t, of course. Because just as you’re about done with your orgasm, you feel him come inside you, chanting your name alongside mine, mine mine. It takes a long time for the both of you to get back to your senses, but he’s extremely gentle with you as he helps you down and fixes your underwear. You find yourself snuggling up to him when he eventually takes you into his arms after fixing his own clothing, nuzzling your nose to his neck. “You know, I think I like the jealous side of you.” You mumble, leaving a few kisses across his jaw.

“Yeah?” He asks, a breathy chuckle leaving him as he cradles your face with both of his hands, his thumbs caressing the apples of your cheeks.

“Yeah.” You nod, giving him a small smile, “But I need you to take me home, please, I can feel your cum dripping down my leg.”

“Oh baby,” he coos, tutting as he slides his hands down your body to grab you by the waist, “we’re not going home, it would be rude to leave our friends by themselves. Don’t you think so?” The flabbergasted look that you give him makes another chuckle come from his lips as he slowly turns you towards the door. His lips find the junction between your neck and shoulder again as he announces, “We’re going to go back out there, and we’re going to dance. We wouldn’t want you to miss your song now, would we?”

And when he opens the bathroom door and you hear the first words to a Rihanna song you love? You know it’s going to be a long night ahead of you.

[bee-wg]

Year 3:

Now that I think about it, football has been a constant in my life for five years now. I’m not sure if I enjoy football anymore; it used to be about the fun we have passing the ball, now it’s all about the stats or the perfect form. 

I stood up from the bleachers to hand Brad his towel.

“I’m going to leave the team, Brad,” I said.

“What? Where did this come from?” He said frantically.

“Everyone knows I’m still on the team because you’re the team’s captain now,” I said.

“I don’t want to cause tension between you and Coach. There’s nothing I could do wobbling around the field anyway,” I added.

“Dude, you know I started playing football because of you, right?” Brad said.

“Bradley, relax. I’m not dead. You can come over to my house whenever you want.” I said.

“Theo can make you some lemon pudding cakes if you want to come,” hopefully this will calm him.

“Fine. Just so you know, I’m not happy about this,” he said, sounding like a brat.

“Okay, got it. Have fun at the party,” I chuckled.

“I won’t. I’m going to make the DJ play Lana Del Rey,” he said before entering the locker room.

There might be an oversight of me quitting football.

It’s literally the reason why I quit. I don’t know why it never crossed my mind.

How the fuck am I going to lose weight now?

“Maybe I would’ve thought it if the word, “exercise” was anywhere on my to-do list this past year,” the voice from the back of my head said.

Shut up, rational thought. I was just a little too cocky, that’s all.

My mind spins around the paths I could take to shed the fat.

Back to the gym for the bodybuilders to laugh at me jiggling like a puddle of slime on the treadmill.

No. Hard no.

Stop eating whatever Theo puts in front of my face.

Productive, but I’d rather die than miss out on the joy of the world.

Post my weight loss journey edits on social media, reminiscing on my rock-hard abs like a depressed, fat person.

No? No, actually it might just work.

My thumbs got to work. It took me an hour to choose a profile picture that represents me. I could go for a vacation photo by the beach, or the classic black and white moody gym pic. Except, I don’t have a picture of myself on my phone, so I chose the picture of an orange cat eating a banana.

With my camera set up, in my favourite green tank top. I pressed record.

It was an embarrassing experience editing myself, watching my belly sway every time I made a movement. In the end, I closed my eyes and uploaded the video.

“Oh! First comment already.” I said.

“Look at those milkers spilling out the tanks!”

3. Post my weight loss journey edits on social media, reminiscing on my rock-hard abs like a depressed, fat person.

The following weeks consisted of me eating my feelings. At least half of my classes are online this semester. I can be embarrassed in peace.

The pounds kept creeping up with each spoon of ice cream down my throat. In the blink of an eye, I am dangerously close to 300 pounds.

I finally worked up the courage to ask during a normal family dinner.

“Honey, what happened? You’re not eating as fast as usual. Is Theo not cooking enough?” Mom asked.

“No, Mom, I just…I just hope you guys can ease up with your little cooking competitions.”

“Oh honey, you know Theo and I will stop with the food whenever you ask.” Mom tries to reassure me.

“No! Obviously don’t stop the food. It’s just that I’ve been blowing up like a pig and I don’t know what to do about it.” I said.

“I didn’t know you were sad about it. I just want my family to be happy, you look the happiest when you eat,” Mom said

“It wouldn’t have helped when you guys lost for the past two years,” Mom added.

“Well, Dad likes to eat better, and no one eats like him,” I replied. 

“I’m sure my cooking was the reason we won. David is a gym teacher, he walks off the food easily,” Mom said.

“Theo is a professional though, no offence but no one on the planet cooks like him. I’m sure football was the reason we lost,” I said, trying to talk some sense into her.

Theo stares at us with wide eyes.

“Jacob, I’m sure you didn’t mean it,” Mom said with a blank face.

“You know what? Keep doing your competition, this time again next year we’ll see who’s the winner,” I said.

I am clearly a failure at losing weight. The only thing I’m good at is eating. If I’m going to gain weight anyway, I’m going to go all out and win this shit once and for all. Once this is settled, I can get back to normal. Not wanting to disappoint Theo when we lose again was probably the thing holding me back. I can’t wait to eat all the delicious things Theo is- I can’t wait for this to be over.

“Alright, Jay,” she turned to Theo and said.

“Theo, my boy. I’m looking forward to seeing the results next year,” Mom said with a determined smile.

Everyone knows not to mess with Mom when she has that look. Even then, I feel like we could still win. Theo’s food is hypnotic already when I am restrained; imagine what it will do to me when I’m going all out.

“What’s going on again?” Dad asked with cheeks full of pasta.

“Don’t worry baby, you just need to eat a little more next year,” Mom answered.

“Okay, as long as I get my lasagnas,” Dad said.

Later at night, struggling to sleep, I contemplated on the bad decisions I’ve made. This one might take the crown to be the stupidest thing I’ve done. Yet, I don’t regret it.

“You didn’t have to stand up for me,” Theo said.

“It’s the least I can do when you wake up early to prep for my food, or go off on the weekends for groceries when you could’ve been doing anything else,” I explained.

“Thank you so much, Jay. You don’t know how much this means to me. My family wanted me to do anything other than cooking, but you guys have been nothing but supportive,” he said.

I smiled at the ceiling. The gremlin is nicer than I remember.

“Now, I won’t allow you to slack anymore with the amount you’re eating. Not until the competition ends.”

Huh?

Theo had stuck to his word and increased the amount he was cooking. I am now eating the amount of three people in each spread-out meal, still lacking behind Dad’s impressive five person’s amount per meal. So I have been playing catch up with him this entire month.

I realized quickly that I had underestimated the gap between Dad and my appetite. In the last few years, for the most part, I have been eating whatever I want, leaving the rest to Dad. With the exception of eating for the team once a week, I have been slacking. That was quite a hard pill to swallow. I’m 300 pounds, yet not doing a good job as a fatass. How is that possible?

So far I have gained about 23 pounds in the past two months. Normally, I would freak out and have a breakdown in bed because I’ve gained more than my freshman year in two months. Right now with my messed up head, all I can think about is how far I am behind. If we lose this again, it would be once and for all, and I would never let myself live this down. Theo deserves better with how good he’s been treating me.

With my new bulk, the stairs have been an increasing challenge. So, a few weeks ago I moved downstairs to a tiny guest room that was converted to a storage room.

The moment I moved down, I could hear Theo’s voice yelling, “Yes, Finally! Goodbye insomnia,” In my old bedroom. Before, I would’ve yelled for the brat to shut up. Now, with my stomach full. I just wanted a nap in peace.

It took me no time to adjust to the new arrangement. With more time home from all the online classes, I get to be as lazy as I want. Dad has a similar arrangement at home. He retired from being a high school gym teacher and football coach, now he tutors history at home. He also abandoned his hobby of brewing in order to laze on the sofa all day.

On weekdays, Theo would leave an abundance of food for me to consume with a list of how I should eat them to expand my capacity. The weekends are like heaven. From the moment I woke up, Theo would prepare delicious appetizers and pancakes for me. From then on, I would have a constant stream of food flowing into my mouth every thirty minutes. Sometimes, I would move my hands and my mouth would start to chew unconsciously. Alarming, but helpful. 

My belly started to expand outwards on my lap each day as I sat in front of the computer. The arm rest would feel more snug when I move around.

I have now discovered the perks of being a fatass. I can explore things I never had time to do, like the anime Brad has been begging me to watch, games I always wanted to play. Best of all is to experience all of these without moving an inch. These are the things I would definitely look back on with fondness when the competition ends.

***

Today is my rare outing of the month; the bus is late again but I don’t blame them this time. The downpour of rain is gathering at the clogged sewer, creating a puddle. People are supposed to grow out of stepping in puddles when they’re kids. These undeveloped assholes apparently didn’t. Several cars saw the puddle and decided to splash it straight to my face.

It’s fine. It’s all fine. I will feel better later.

I walked a small trail after getting off the bus.

Great. The angels decide to stop peeing from the heavens when I’m about to get inside.

Dad is buying a new SUV, maybe I can drive it next time. It’s too big to sneak off though.

I thought as I skipped through the stone pathway. The usual grass is covered by the water, creating a small pond.

“Annyeonghaseyo,” I said to the door cam.

After pressing the doorbell several times, it replied.

"안녕, fuck boy. Back so soon?" Number Seven said.

“Yeah, yeah. Just open the damn door,” I said, trying to hurry the fucker.

Number Seven’s face appears in front of me.

“You’re soaked! Come on in,” he said.

His house appears to be orderly. Clean. He must’ve had another fatass here not long ago.

“Woah, you look—Wait, let me guess. Another fifteen pounds since last time?” He asked.

“Come on, let’s cut to the chase. I really need it right now,” I urged.

“Hahaha, not even a shower. Desperate much?” He said.

I walked inside his bedroom, dimmed the lights and took off my shirt.

He walked towards me. Grabbing me by the belly hang in one hand, he pulls down my underwear, causing my ass to vibrate.

“Fuuuuck, can you take it out first?” I asked, trying not to moan.

“Sure, you think you’re ready for me today?” He asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” I answered. 

He slid his hand behind, right down my ass crack and slowly pulled the vibrator off. I applied it before leaving home, without accounting for the possibility of the bus delay.

“Mmmmph, fuck,” I groaned.

I’ve been training towards today for a while. In the beginning, I would come to his house and he would suck me off. If I’m feeling experimental, I would suck him off. It stayed like that for about a year and he never complained. Then I asked him for more. He would start fucking me between my moobs or between my ass but never enter. One day, I told him I was ready for him to start fucking me.

Big mistake.

He’s a manwhore for a reason. I didn’t think an 8-inch would be so hard to take. How the girls and twinks take them in porn is beyond me. It was painful when he entered, even when he said he had “loosened my hole” with his fingers. I shouldn’t have believed him, the fucking thing was massive.

After the incident, he gave me small dildos and vibrators to get used to it. We eventually worked our way up the scale until the one he’s holding now. Why did I do all this work to have a men’s dick in my ass? Who knows. I have already accepted that I’ve lost it.

He sucked on my nipple suddenly. The sensation took me by surprise.

“Dude, some warnings please,” I asked.

“Yeah, sorry. Those tits are just so plumped. Your nipples have grown larger than my thumbs now,” he said, about to continue.

“OKAY, I get it. Can you get to work now?” I asked.

My boobs are what everyone thinks about when they see me these days. I’m sick of it.

“Hahahaha, can’t wait to be fucked, my pig?” He said before pushing me down the mattress.

I held my belly to stop it from jiggling. 

He raised one of my legs and opened the bottle of lube with his teeth.

“There’s something by the pillow. Put it in your mouth. It will distract you and dull the initial pain,” Number Seven instructed.

I reached out to grab a—frosted pound cake?

I’ve never seen people doing this in porn, but I’m smart enough to know not everything in porn is real. 

With my mouth full of cake, I spread out my legs, trying to relax so I don’t end up like last time.

He pushed two fingers in, slowly massaging me, then three fingers to stretch my hole. When the frosting melted in my mouth and I finished the chunk of the cake, he signalled me that he was done.

Another piece of the pound cake fills my mouth when he aligns his cock to my hole. He was right, I was fully consumed by the sweetness to notice any discomfort. I quickly swallowed the cake so he could proceed. 

It was unbearably slow as he entered. I don’t understand what all the fuss is about with people bottoming.

He kept asking for reassurance. At this point I just want him to st—

“A-ahhhh oh shiiit!” I moaned.

“Fuuuuuck, what the hell was that?” I screamed.

I must have been too loud and spooked him.

“Are you alright? Sh-should I call an ambulance?” He asked.

“No! Don’t stop, please,” I begged

“Okay, just so you know, I’m not all the way in,” He said.

How? This is already longer than any toys I’ve put in there.

“Gnghhhhh~” I moaned as he thrusts all the way to the bottom.

He kept a steady pace all the way in then almost all the way out, leaving me feeling empty.

“Hurry! Faster,” I asked, almost in tears.

He looked at me with a devious smile and thrust right into the spot.

“Mphn- Yes! Keep going,” I urged.

Every small movement rubbing my G-spot feels like masturbating for hours without release.

He thrusts quicker with more force, causing my belly and moobs to shake violently. 

I try to stabilize my belly with my hand before trying to reach my throbbing cock.

“Help, I-aghh fuck, I need to touch my dick,” I asked.

“Let go of your belly, fat boy. Or I’ll stop,” He said.

Immediately, my belly returned to wobble violently.

“I can’t believe you turned into such a pathetic horny mess in such a short time,” He said.

”Come on, Seven. I just need you to hit that spot. Please, I’ll do anything!” I begged.

He keeps deliberately missing it. I need to be fucked there!

“Keep your hands on your nipples,” he ordered.

The over-sensitive nipples drive my weeping cock into a frenzy.

Fuck, I need to touch my cock right now. If only my fucking belly is not on the way.

“You know, when I first saw you, I thought you were the kind of jock to gain a beer belly in college, and not get fat until you turn thirty,” he said, before ramming straight into my prostate.

“Fuuuuck yeahhh,” I said unintelligently. 

“You are much more of a pig than I realized,” he said, thrusting straight into it again.

“Helll yeahhh,” I said, trying to rob my ass to his dick.

“How do you feel seeing your bubble butt balloons four times the original size?” He asked, followed by another thrust. 

“I fucking love it! I love how it wobbles around whenever I walk!” I said, moving my jiggling ass back to his dick again.

“How do you feel seeing your abs growing before your eyes, knowing you could stop it if you just stop eating?”Another thrust.

“I can’t help it! I love eating too much!” Maybe I am meant to be a fat ass.

“Right answer. Now you’ll get your reward,” he said and sped up, hitting the spot perfectly every time.

I imagine his face to be someone else, someone far from my league.

My cock rubbed against my sensitive underbelly, and I shot out jets of cum for what felt like forever.

As white clouded my vision, a euphoric relief spread over my body, melting me into the mattress.

“You passing out again, fuck boy?” Seven asked.

“No, just enjoying the bliss. I can’t believe so many men in the world are missing out on this,” My hole already feels empty. How am I going to go back from this?

“Aww man, I’m all sticky and shit,” I examined my body, cum shots and rain definitely don’t mix well together. Some of them even got between the fat folds. I swipe my finger in between the fat. “Oof, I stink too.”

Seven looked at me and signed. “You’re somehow still a stupid jock inside.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked.

“I got you the fast food you asked for,” he said.

“Yes!” I rushed to the kitchen.

Ignoring his stupid laugh, I microwaved the burger and fries.

The breeze of the air conditioning reminds me of something.

“Shit, I ran out here naked.”

When I ran back, he had already put my clothes in the dryer, and I got into the shower.

When I got out, Seven brought me an old shirt I left here. It fits me like a glove with half my belly exposed. He stopped laughing when I was about to throw myself on him, then brought out a shirt with the Flash’s symbol on. Probably from another fat ass he fucks. The shirt still looks painted on, revealing the shape of my nipple and the dent of my belly button. At least he’s driving me home.

***

Staying at home has been a life-altering experience. 

The only time I ever move is going out of the bed to the desk, or to the bathroom. All I have to do is sit back, relax, and eat some fried food. 

With more time with myself. I’ve realized how much I dislike all the people in school that only approached me because I was one of the football jocks. I could’ve been anyone. Now, I am me. Not a worry about whether or not I’m muscular enough like other jocks, just a bigger Jay.

Sitting beside me, Dad scratched his belly and released a belch without a care in the world. He has adapted to fat guy mannerisms quickly. I’m catching up too. Today is movie night, usually we have pizzas and beers. We started this when the football season came, he asked to skip it. It was the first time we’ve skipped watching a Super Bowl season. I guess I’m not the only one losing interest in the sport. We decided to watch the Lin-Manuel Miranda Monkey movie instead.

Being on the couch with Dad made me realize I was getting closer to my goal. I can’t wait to see the results.

***

“Hell yeah, my man, you can do it!” Brad said, slapping my shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” I asked

“You said I can come in whenever I like,” he replied.

He’s been breaking into my house for no reason, just to stay on the second floor the entire time doing god knows what.

“I’ve brought some beef jerky here to celebrate,” Brad said.  

The scale has been set up, we’re only waiting on Mom. They’re doing some last minute catch up; mom is using a funnel to pour some milkshake in him. I am not concerned though, sticking to Theo’s strict diet every day has not been easy. I have to eat until my stomach is fully bloated. Every morning, I watch my belly deflate a little less, every evening, it bloats even further. 

“Don’t worry, Jay. We’ve got this,” Theo assured me.

“By the way, what are we doing again?” Brad asked.

Dad came out, looking absolutely massive. With Mom on his side, he stepped on the scale.

The numbers keep going up and don't seem to be stopping.

300-350-392-400-443

Holy shit, Dad gained a hundred and forty pounds this year. 

With more uncertainty, I took my step on the scale.

“Woo-Hoo, Jay man, you got this!” Brad shouted quietly.

I try to look under to see the number, but my belly is too big for me to see the scale.

Theo stepped closer and read. 

“Four Hundred and fifty yes!” Theo cheered.

“I won? Yes, finally!” I said and did a little jump.

The scale made a “Pop” noise.

“Oh! Sorry, Mom. I know this is really expensive.”

“Don’t worry, sweetie. We need to upgrade anyway,” Mom said, then she walked towards Theo.

“Congratulations Theo, you made me pull out every trick in my book. It’s so nice seeing you improve so much in front of my eyes, in terms, you pushed me to improve too,” Mom said, then hugged Theo.

“I can’t believe my boy is bigger than me now. Excellent work, Jay!” Dad said and hugged me, too.

Last time I was bigger than Dad I had sculpted abs, the body I dreamed of. This time, I’m almost three times the size as I was, fully covered with fat. Yet, I feel less empty inside.

“Thank you Dad,” I said, hugging him back. 

After all this time, I finally have a body I like being in. The belly doesn't look so wrong on me anymore.

Chapter 4 ->

[mommybard]

You know how in some lewd stories they have those pills that can change or corrupt people? I need those to become real because I’m stuck with a thought that I just can’t get out of my head.

Getting just the cutest little thing as a roommate. Befriending them. Gaining their trust. Hanging out with them. And then…well, slipping some of those into their food and drink. Not enough to give them an overnight change, where’s the fun in that? No, just enough for small changes here and there that their mind will rationalize away until it's too late~

Increased libido? That’s not too hard to explain away, some people's sex drives tend to ramp up or slow down for various reasons. So it’s not too hard for them to accept when they find themselves masturbating as the first thing when they wake up and the last thing before going to bed. Granted, they’re suddenly wanting more but…well, that could just be anything. Definitely not caused by the cookies I made them~

The changes to their body? Well that's easy enough at first. Sometimes people gain a bit of weight, or clothes shrink in the wash. That has to be the reason those jeans seem to be clinging a bit more, hugging their hips, barely able to get up over their ass. And they have been going to the gym…maybe its just finally seeing the results of the work out? As for their chest…well its just more sensitive it all. Could really be anything. Probably not that fresh horchata I made them~

The changes keep coming. Any rational person would've probably scheduled a check up to find the cause. And they meant to do that, honestly! Its just…their focus has been preoccupied recently. It started off with just finding themselves occasionally day dreaming about lewd things. Being forced to their knees and made to worship a domme. What it would be like if their friends lost all respect for them as a person and started to use them like a free use toy. How good it would feel to not have to think but instead just be the bestest little pet, spending their day under the desk of someone who does the thinking and worrying for them as they fill their day with loyal service to that person. 

But its been taking up more of their brainpower. The last few times when they meant to make the call they got distracted when they opened their phone and saw the smutty story they had been touching themselves to earlier…and, well…spend the next few hours playing with themselves. Similar thing happened when they tried to do it on the computer. They meant to type in the website! But as they started it auto suggested a porn site and…gods way they would give to get fucked like that. 

Poor thing being forced to wear less and less as they run out of clothes that genuinely fit anymore. Thinking they're being subtle about how drooly they'll get mid conversation. That the walls are thick enough that I can't hear them desperately fucking their holes raw on toys they rushed to order. 

Until I give them the final pill. One that pushes them into a deep heat. Full strength, not the careful doses I used with the other drugs. Watching them drink it down without even realizing, laughing to myself when they rush to their bedroom to “study”. Letting them go for a few hours, long enough for them to realize that need deep inside them isn't getting satisfied with their fingers or toys. They need something more. Something real. 

And of course, like the good friend I am, I offer to help them out. Wouldn't want them to try to rush out in their state. There are so many evil people out there who might take advantage of them and their trust! I wouldn't want that now, would I~?

[wolverigrl]

Request for Hugh story.

The reader gets a little jealous when Hugh has to spend some time with his ex wife and kids, so to show his girlfriend just how much he loves her. Hugh makes her romantic dinner just for them.

Jelousy

Hugh Jackman x reader

!A/N! I hope you like this requested story! <3

Warnings: jealousy, cheesy, nothing more!

Enjoy!

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

It had been a year and a half since Hugh and I had started dating. The first year had been incredible - dream-like, really. But things had changed. It started slowly, creeping in like an unwanted shadow. His work, the endless promotion for his new movie, had taken over our lives. We barely saw each other anymore. And when he wasn’t jetting across the globe for press junkets, he was here in New York - spending time with his ex-wife and their kids.

I knew it was important for him to be there for them, to maintain that family bond. And I understood that. I tried to understand it. But lately, it felt like I was always waiting. Waiting for him to come home. Waiting for some kind of sign that I still mattered.

And today? Today was the final straw.

I had seen the photos online—Hugh and Deborra-Lee with their kids, laughing, looking so perfect together. Like nothing had ever changed between them. It wasn’t rational, I knew that. He had been married to her for years, and they shared a lot of history. But no matter how hard I tried to suppress it, the jealousy kept bubbling up inside me, threatening to spill over.

So when Hugh finally walked through the door that evening, his face lit up with a tired but warm smile, I couldn’t hold back anymore.

"Had a good day?" I asked, my tone far too sharp for what was supposed to be a casual question.

He dropped his keys on the counter and looked at me, confused by the edge in my voice. "Yeah... spent the day with the kids. It was nice. What about you?"

"Great." I replied, unable to mask the bitterness. "Saw the pictures. You all looked... happy."

Hugh's brows furrowed. "What do you mean? Of course, we were happy. I was spending time with the kids- "

"And your ex-wife." I cut him off, my arms crossing defensively. "You’ve been spending a lot of time with her, haven’t you?"

He stared at me, his confusion deepening. "Y/n, she's the mother of my kids. We’re not together, you know that. You have nothing to worry about."

"I don’t?" I scoffed, shaking my head. "Because it feels like I’m the last thing on your mind these days. I’m starting to forget what it’s like to even have you around."

Hugh stepped toward me, his voice soft but firm. "That’s not fair, y/n. You know how crazy things have been with the movie, and I’m trying to be there for the kids. It’s complicated."

"Yeah, it is complicated!" I snapped, my frustration boiling over. I could feel the words tumbling out of me, unstoppable now. "I would never ask you to choose between me and them, Hugh, but I’m not asking for much. I just want to feel like I matter too."

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly exasperated but trying to stay calm. "You do matter. You know you do."

"Do I?" I shot back, my voice cracking despite my best efforts to stay composed. "Because lately, it feels like I’m just here. Waiting for you to remember I exist!"

Hugh’s expression softened, his frustration giving way to something more vulnerable. "Love, come on... it’s not like that."

But I couldn’t listen anymore. The flood of emotions was too much, and I needed space. "I need to get out of here." I muttered, grabbing my coat and heading for the door.

"Y/n, wait!" Hugh called after me, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I just needed air, space - anything to clear my head. The door clicked shut behind me, and I found myself walking aimlessly through the streets of New York, my emotions swirling in my chest like a storm.

The crisp night air hit my face as I wandered through the city. My mind raced as I replayed the argument over and over. Why had I let it get this far? Why hadn’t I talked to him sooner, before it all exploded like this? I knew he wasn’t intentionally pushing me away, but lately, it felt like I was invisible.

After an hour of walking and stewing in my own thoughts, I realized I needed to head back. I couldn’t avoid this forever. We needed to talk - really talk. And maybe I needed to apologize for being... well, dramatic. I sighed, turning back toward the apartment, my steps slower, more thoughtful.

When I finally reached the door, I took a deep breath, expecting tension. But as I stepped inside, I was met with something completely unexpected.

The lights were dim, and there was soft music playing in the background. I slipped off my shoes and walked towards the kitchen. The smell of something delicious - my favorite dish - wafted through the air. Candles flickered gently on the dining table, which had been set for two. The entire room felt warm and inviting, a strong contrast to the storm that had been brewing between us earlier.

I stood frozen in the corridor, blinking in disbelief. Hugh emerged from the kitchen, his eyes soft and apologetic as he wiped his hands on a towel.

"Hey." he said gently, his voice carrying a tenderness that tugged at my heart. "I, uh... I made dinner. I figured we could use some time, just the two of us."

I stared at him, the earlier frustration slowly melting away. "Hugh... you didn’t have to do all this."

"Yes, I did." he said, stepping closer. His eyes searched mine, and the sincerity in them made my chest tighten. "I’ve been so caught up in everything - work, the kids - that I forgot to make time for us. And that’s not okay. You’re right."

I bit my lip, guilt washing over me. "I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I just... I was feeling- "

"I know." he interrupted softly, his hands reaching out to gently hold mine. "And I get it. I should’ve been more present with you. I never meant to make you feel like you didn’t matter because you do, more than anything."

I swallowed hard, my heart swelling as I looked up at him. The anger, the jealousy - it all felt so small now. He had always been the man who showed up, who cared, even when life got overwhelming. And right now, he was standing here, showing me exactly how much I meant to him.

"I’m sorry." I whispered, my voice trembling as I squeezed his hands.

Hugh shook his head, his thumbs brushing over my knuckles gently. "I’m sorry too. I love you, y/n. I never want you to feel like you’re anything less than my priority."

The weight of his words settled over me, soothing the ache I’d been carrying for days. I let out a shaky breath, feeling the tension between us dissolve. "I love you too." I said softly, my heart swelling with the truth of it.

He smiled, that familiar, warm smile that made me feel like everything was going to be okay. "So... how about we start over? No more fighting. Just... dinner."

I nodded, smiling despite myself. "Yeah. I’d like that."

We sat down at the table, and the moment was so simple, so intimate. Hugh had made my favorite dish - pasta with that special sauce he always made when we had date nights at home. The food was incredible, but what made it even better was the way we kept stealing glances at each other, the quiet joy in the air as we ate.

By the time we were done, my heart felt lighter. We moved to the couch, and I leaned into him as his arms wrapped around me, pulling me close. I could feel the warmth of his chest, his heartbeat steady and reassuring.

"I missed this." I whispered, resting my head against him.

Hugh pressed a kiss to the top of my head, his lips lingering there for a moment. "I missed you. I hate that I made you feel like I wasn’t here. I’ll do better, I promise."

I tilted my head up to look at him, my eyes meeting his. The tenderness in his gaze made my heart skip a beat. "You always show up when it matters, Hugh. I just... I need to know you’ll keep doing that."

"I will," he murmured, his voice low and earnest. "You’re not an afterthought, Y/N. You’re my home."

Those words wrapped around me, filling the cracks that had formed over the past few weeks. I reached up, cupping his face as I kissed him softly, pouring every bit of love and gratitude I felt into that kiss.

When we pulled away, I couldn’t help but smile. "You really went all out, huh? Cooking, candles... the whole deal."

Hugh grinned, his eyes twinkling. "Well, I figured you deserved a little romance after putting up with me."

I laughed softly, leaning in closer. "I think we both deserved it."

He tilted his head down, kissing the top of mine softly. "I don’t ever want you to doubt how much I love you. I know I’ve been distracted, but I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere."

My heart swelled at his words, the sincerity in his voice wrapping around me like a promise. I looked up at him, meeting his gaze. "I know." I whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek. "And I love you. I just... needed to hear it."

He smiled, a lazy, boyish grin that made my stomach flutter. "Then I’ll make sure you hear it more often."

He leaned down, brushing his lips against mine, slow and sweet, like he had all the time in the world just to kiss me. It wasn’t rushed or desperate. It was full of everything - love, reassurance, and that deep, quiet connection we shared. When we finally pulled away, our foreheads rested against each other, and I could feel his breath against my lips.

We stayed wrapped up together on the couch, the warmth of his body melting away any lingering tension. His arm was draped protectively around my shoulders, pulling me close, while I rested my head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It was comforting, grounding. Every time I shifted, he pulled me in just a little tighter, like he couldn’t stand the thought of even an inch between us.

"You know." he murmured, his fingers lazily tracing circles on my arm, "I’ve missed this. Just being here with you. No noise, no schedules. Just... us."

I smiled into his chest, feeling the softness of his words settle over me like a warm blanket. "I’ve missed it too. More than I realized."

We sat there for a while longer, the quiet of the apartment settling around us. Hugh shifted slightly, pulling a blanket over us and tucking it in around my shoulders. He kissed my forehead again, lingering as though he couldn’t help himself.

"And you know." he whispered softly, his voice like velvet against the night air, "you’re my favorite part of everything. Of coming home, of my whole day. You’re it."

My heart melted. I snuggled deeper into his embrace, closing my eyes as I felt the warmth of his love surround me. "You’re my favorite too." I whispered back, feeling safe, cherished, and so completely loved.

We stayed that way, wrapped up in each other, letting the world fade away. No more jealousy, no more distance. Just us, together. And in that moment, everything felt perfect - like this was exactly where we were supposed to be.

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

I'd appreciate feedback! <3

xoxo

[starringthesturniolos]

bite me (part 2)- matt sturniolo

part one, part 2

summary- matt has always hated your guts, but everything changes when he wakes up and finds out your his mate.

contains- vampire!matt x reader, enemies to lovers, smut (not in this part), themes of death, dark themes, high school au! (18 yrs old)

——————————————————————————

your pov:

i woke up with a massive headache, my chest heaving. the first thing i think of is matt.

what the fuck, why is he on my mind on a saturday morning.

i shudder at my own actions and throw my covers over my head as a phantom chill runs down my spine.“cant stay in bed forever” i sigh to myself, while throwing the covers off my body almost immediately after putting them back on. I march to my closet and change into my favorite running shorts. as soon as i step foot out of my house, i start to jog, the melodic tempo lulling me out of my morning funk. my peace is disrupted tho because out the corner of my eye, i see my neighbor walk out his house into his driveway. his eyes bore into mine before they rake up and down my body. my heart beat picks up slightly, and it’s not from the exercise.

my neighbor, kit, has been weirdly obsessed with me ever since he and his girlfriend broke up. about a week ago, i caught him snooping around our house at night, trying to get a peek into my room. after that i’ve been trying to avoid crossing paths, and i wasn’t planning on crossing them today. its fine, hes probably taking out the trash, i think, desperately trying to reassure myself. i speed up from a light jog to a full on sprint because i know that once hes out my sight, i will feel more comfortable. i sigh in relief when i round the corner to the next street in my subdivision, happy that i got away from him.

slap slap slap

his feet pound against the ground as he sprints to catch up with me. i whirl around once i hear the footsteps, and lock eyes with him. the accidental eye contact was enough to spur him to go even faster than his long legs were taking him before. my heart to drops and i turn back around, running on pure adrenaline and fear.

“Y/n, stop running and come talk to me!” kit yells angrily but i’m running far too hard to form a proper sentence. even if i wanted to respond to him i wouldn’t have the breath to do so.

“STOP PLAYING HARD TO GET. YOU KNOW YOU WANT ME Y/N. COME HERE AND ADMIT IT” he screams even louder. my head starts to pound and my mind reels trying to come up with a plan. i can’t run forever. i gather the little breath i have in me to muster up a scream in hopes someone will come help me, only for the air to be knocked out of me. i ran straight into something, no,

someone.

“get. the fuck. away from her.” the mystery man growls.

kit takes one look at him and slowly backs away in fear. “who the hell are you?” out of curiosity, i look up to see who i’ve run into and freeze.

matt?

no it can’t be. it looks just like him but his eyes are dark red, and dark black veins swirl under his pale skin like they have a mind of their own. “who are you?” i cringe as i repeat the same question kit did moments before, both our tones lacking a single ounce of courage. fear was all consuming as we stared at the monster in front us.

“you know who i am, y/n. get behind me. now. im gonna deal with him” he says gruffly while looking behind me at kit. kit whimpers at the sight of matts deadly stare.

i ignore what matt says, opting to look him up and down instead in a manner that screams “what the fuck is wrong with you”. but then, i try to think rationally for a moment, this is still matt after all. he may not like me but hes not gonna hurt me. right?

“what happened to you, matt?”i question breathlessly.

“you.” matt deadpans in a voice much deeper than his normal one, taking a step closer to me. he reaches his hand out to grab me. to take me.

“y/n get away from him!!” kit interjects and pulls me too him in hopes of trying to help me get away from matt. and for once, i’m actually glad kits here.

wrong move.

matt is in front of me in a flash. he snarles as he pushes kit with bone crushing force. his body goes flying, hitting a pole a couple of yards away with a loud thud, knocked out on impact. i shriek, terror filling my veins. as if sensing my strong distress, matt turns to me slowly. his arms out in front of him, in what is supposed to be a peaceful gesture.

hard to be comforting when your veins are as dark as your tattoos.

“y/n, we need to talk” the stranger, deeper version of matts voice says.

why can’t i move. im frozen in time as he takes slow steps towards me.

“you need to come with me, y/n.” he breathes out, his dark red eyes wide and crazed. he takes another step closer. my legs feel like jelly but i finally manage to take one step back. whatever matt is, it can’t be human. humans can’t throw each other several yards. their veins aren’t as black as midnight, and their eyes sure as hell don’t change to a deep red on command. so what does he, no, it, want from me.

“w- why do i need to come with you? ”

“because you’re mine” he growls, finally deciding to close the gap between us, faster than my eyes can process. he bends down and run his nose along the hot spot on my neck. he inhales deeply and moans in relief his black veins disappearing. i scream and try to push him off but its useless. he grabs my arm in a vice grip and pure horror spreads through my body for what feels like the 100th time today. i try to let out another scream but no sound comes out. my vision clouds and my head is spinning. then everything is black.

@bbernard-03

@sturnthepot

@hoeformatt

@sturtriple16

@faygo-frog

@sturniol0s

@fratbrochrisgf

@mattslolita

[sluttywonwoo]

instead of you [part twenty-six] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either. 

warnings: swearing, angst, smut (mdni)

word count: 5.1k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

series masterlist | early access to the next chapter on ko-fi

additional smut warnings: oral (f receiving), protected sex, multiple orgasms

The silence that followed your admission was excruciating. You wished you knew what Minho was thinking. He was impossible to read, aside from the evident anger written all over his face. His body language didn’t give much away either. He was closed off, arms folded across his chest, chin raised just slightly. 

“So who are you then?” he demanded, tone even despite being the exact opposite mere moments ago. 

“What?”

“Who are you? Are you just some girl that Jisung is using?”

“What the fuck, no!”

“Why are you acting like that’s some outrageous possibility? I just found out you’ve been lying to everyone all summer!”

“I’ve been Jisung’s best friend for like four years now, I’m all over his Instagram! Felix came to visit us and we all hung out, there are pictures of that too. I can’t believe you’d think I’m some random person!”

“You’ll have to forgive me for not thinking completely rationally right now!” he spat. “Why the hell would Jisung lie about- why would he say he had a girlfriend if he didn’t?”

“It’s a long story,” you mumbled with a sigh. “But we really don’t have time to get into that right now. I came up here because I was supposed to bring you back to the room.”

Minho made a face. “What, why?”

“Your cousins called.”

The shift in his demeanor was immediate. He visibly perked up, but only briefly, before seeming to remember the conversation he was having. “Jeongin and Yoon?”

“Yeah. Everyone else is on FaceTime with them right now. I told everyone I’d come to get you so that none of them would have to miss out on talking to him,” you explained. “So we should probably get going because I don’t know how long he has to chat.”

“Fine,” Minho surrendered easily, “but we’re not done talking about this.”

“Yeah, yeah I know,” you sighed again, still feeling nauseous. With everything that had already happened, you knew there was no way that this could end well. But now, now that one person knew it was all a lie, you were fucked. “Just… don’t tell anyone, please?”

He pursed his lips but nodded. “You sure have a lot of secrets to keep track of, don’t you?”

It was meant to sting, and it did, but you didn’t let him see the crack in the glass. 

“I could say the same for you.”

-

You slipped into your room as soon as you got back to the penthouse, not wanting to face any of the other Hans, especially not your best friend. You collapsed onto the bed with a muffled scream into your pillow. 

You expected yourself to start crying, but the tears didn’t come. They wouldn’t come. The initial panic had been replaced with numbness. Apathy personified, you could feel it spreading from your heart out through your veins, creating a tingling sensation that reached the very tips of your fingers. 

You had to tell Jisung, right? He’d understand… probably. You hadn’t told Minho. He figured it out on his own. Yeah, you should tell Jisung and then you could also come clean about… everything else. Maybe. But maybe you could also take it to your grave since it seemed like any possibility of you and Minho becoming an item, whatever that implied, was out of the question now. You knew he didn’t want anything to do with you anymore. Not after tonight. You couldn’t erase his look of betrayal from your mind no matter how hard you tried. 

Just how many people were you hurting by merely being on this trip? There was no way to know for sure, not that knowing would make you feel any less guilty. 

Maybe it was better not to tell Jisung. Maybe you could pretend like everything was fine, and then it would be. But that was what had gotten you in trouble in the first place. 

You hadn’t realized you had fallen asleep until you woke up with a jolt some hours later. The room was dark. The lamp had been switched off and the blinds were shut. Jisung was snoring softly beside you. He was tucked under the covers while you were still laying on top of them. 

You rolled over and felt for your phone, finding it underneath your pillow. You were surprised to see that you had missed a text from Minho. It was from an hour and a half ago and just said can you meet me in room 422? 

You weren’t sure if he would still be waiting there since it had been so long since he sent the message, but you responded with a tentative sure and quietly snuck out of your bedroom. You hoped Jisung wouldn’t wake up before you returned. Having to explain where you were or why you were there would only complicate things. You still hadn’t decided whether or not to tell him… anything. You needed more time to think things through. At least, that’s the excuse you told yourself. 

The fourth floor was eerily quiet, reminding you of how late it was. Stepping off the elevator into the hallway felt like a mistake, like you were trespassing on private property. Minho hadn’t replied to your text so you didn’t know if he was still awake, but you knocked at the door anyway. He answered after the second knock. 

“There you are,” he said and stepped aside to let you in. He seemed to have cooled down, which was a good sign, but there was still tension lingering between you. 

You slid by him, stopping in the entryway just past the door. The room he had summoned you to was just a plain hotel room. There was a queen-size bed in the middle of the room and a desk in the corner, but not much else. 

“You can sit wherever.”

You nodded in acknowledgment and perched yourself on the edge of the bed. Minho followed you but refrained from sitting, choosing to lean back against the dresser so that he could face you. 

“Why’d you want to meet me here?” you asked.

“I, uh, thought that talking in my room back at the apartment would look kind of weird if anyone saw us,” he explained awkwardly, “and the walls are thin too.”

“Alright, you have a point,” you admitted with a shaky exhale. “Whose room is this?”

“It’s mine. I went down to the lobby and booked it for the night.”

Oh to have a K-pop-sized disposable income.

“Oh, right. Should have thought of that.” You swallowed thickly, trying still to appear calm, cool, and collected. “Well, what did you want to talk about?”

You realized that Minho hadn’t mentioned wanting to talk in his text. You were just assuming. But given the events of the night, you felt that it was a pretty safe assumption to make. 

“I wanted to know why you and Jisung lied to everyone,” he took a brief pause before continuing, “and why I now have to lie to everyone too.”

You bit your tongue, stopping yourself before you could point out that he was already lying to everyone, and just nodded. 

“So the thing is, when he told your parents he had a girlfriend, he did have a girlfriend. They broke up, like, less than a week after he told them that and I guess he was too embarrassed to break the news because they were so excited for him and had already invited her on the trip. Jisung figured that maybe he’d have another girlfriend by the time he actually had to go on the trip, but when the end of the semester rolled around and he didn’t, I kind of filled the vacancy because he asked me to.”

“But why?” Minho pressed. “Why was it so important for him to be dating someone?”

“I don’t know, actually. He told me that it was to make your parents happy because they were always bugging him about his dating life, but I thought there might have been another reason that he just wasn’t telling me.”

Minho hummed thoughtfully. “Mom and dad are pretty nosy about our lives, but I don’t know why he would feel pressured to be in a relationship.”

“I think he felt like he had something to prove,” you said, choosing your words carefully. You knew how rocky Jisung’s relationship with his older brother was, at least from what he told you. You didn’t want to give Minho anything he could hold against him. “You’re not going to say anything to your parents or Felix, are you?”

“No,” he answered immediately and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “That’s his prerogative, I suppose. I don’t want to start anything between us- it’s not my place to say anything, really.”

“Thank you.”

He let his arms drop to his sides but didn’t move from where he was standing. “So, there’s really nothing going on between you and Jisung?”

“No, I swear.”

“Even after spending all this time together on the trip?”

“Nope, we spend all of our time together anyway.”

“So are you… friends with benefits?” he asked. 

“No. We’ve made out a few times, but it really just happens when we’re drunk. We never slept together.”

“But what about…” he trailed off, but you understood what he was talking about instantly.

“Oh, no! That was all fake. We just did that to sell it more, and sometimes to mess with you guys.”

“I knew there was no way he could be that good,” Minho whispered.  

You chuckled but came to your friend’s defense. “He seems to do pretty well for himself. Girls usually call him back after staying over so he must be doing something right.”

“I can’t believe it was fake,” Minho mumbled, mostly to himself. “Sorry, I’m still processing this.”

“Take your time.”

You leaned back on the palms of your hands, feeling a little more relaxed now that you knew he didn’t hate you. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” he asked finally, letting the mask fall the tiniest bit. “After I kissed you the first time? Or when you kissed me back? This whole time I’ve felt like such an asshole for- for everything that happened.”

“I thought about it,” you admitted, “but Jisung and I agreed that it would stay between us. I’m sorry.”

“I get why you didn’t. I just wish it could have been different.” 

“Me too,” you agreed.

Minho crossed over to the bed and sat down next to you. 

“I’m sorry I went through your stuff.”

You threw your head back laughing. You hadn’t expected him to say that. “It’s fine. Honestly, it’s a relief not to have to keep up the act around you anymore.”

“Oh yeah? And why’s that?” Minho raised an eyebrow and grinned, making you shy away from his gaze. 

You looked down at your lap. 

“Because it was exhausting! I don’t know how to act.” It was a half-truth, and you suspected that he knew it. 

“You had me fooled.”

You managed to look back up at him only to find him staring at your lips. This was not how you imagined this conversation going at all. 

“Maybe I should change career paths then,” you choked out. 

“Yeah, maybe.”

A few more beats of silence lapsed between you before Minho spoke again. 

“All of this time we could have been doing this,” he murmured gently. 

You scrunched your face up in confusion. “What’s ‘doing this’?”

 He leaned forward and bridged the gap between you by pressing his lips to yours to answer your question. His hand came up to your hair instinctively, muscle memory, and brushed it out of your face before cupping your jaw. You melted into him like you had done too many times before, letting him trace the curves of your face with his thumb like he was trying to memorize it. 

His palm was warm and you could feel the calluses on his hand against your cheek. You were the first to moan, any embarrassment long forgotten as you climbed onto his lap. 

Minho accommodated your weight easily, hands immediately coming down to grab your ass. He allowed you to push him down so that he was lying flat on the bed with you straddling his waist. 

Minho slipped his tongue into your mouth as the kiss intensified, teasing you with it. You whimpered when he pulled away, bottom lip jutting out into a pout. Minho just smirked and used the opportunity to flip you over so that he was on top. 

Then his lips were back on you, brushing against your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. As soon as you felt his teeth graze your skin you pushed his head back and gave him a look. It was his turn to pout. 

“You can’t leave marks, idiot.”

“Oh yeah, sorry,” he said apologetically, though the shit-eating grin on his face let you know that he didn’t mean it whatsoever. “Well, you can mark me up as much as you want.”

You rolled your eyes. “Lucky me.”

Minho ignored your comment and raised himself onto his hands, still hovering over you. He looked pretty, even in the dim, yellowy hotel room light. His lips were already a bit puffy, but he hadn’t even been kissing you for that long. You briefly wondered how they’d look after making out with your cunt, all swollen and glossy. You tried to squeeze your thighs together at the thought, legs closing around Minho’s hips instead. He seemed pleased at your eagerness and rewarded you with another kiss. 

“Can I take your shirt off?” he asked when he came up for air. You nodded. “Here, lift up a little.”

You did as he asked so that he could work the t-shirt over your head, laughing when he tossed it on the floor. 

“You weren’t wearing a bra?”

“I was about to go to sleep!”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Likely story.”

“No, you’re right. I came here in my pajamas fully intending to seduce you.”

“Well, it worked.”

“Of course it did. Men are so easy.”

He shook his head, tongue poking his cheek. “You’re going to regret saying that.”

You cocked your head to the side, fully aware that Minho had the physical upper hand. “We’ll see.”

As soon as the words left your mouth Minho’s hands were on your boobs, effectively shutting you up. He circled a thumb around each of your nipples, smirking when you gasped and arched your back. 

“Barely even touching you and look how eager you are for me,” he mused. 

“T-take your shirt off too.” It was meant to be a command, but it sounded more like a plea. 

“What’s the magic word?”

“Fuck you.”

“Fine, since you asked so nicely.”

Minho reached behind his neck and yanked his t-shirt off, throwing it in the same general direction as he had thrown yours. You had seen Minho shirtless plenty of times before and you still couldn’t help but stare. His body looked like one of those statues you had seen in the Louvre, carved out of marble by one of the artists they named the Ninja Turtles after. 

You reached out to touch his chest, running your fingertips along his pale skin. 

“Can I take these off too?” Minho asked, playing with the hem of your sweats. He snapped the elastic band against your hip, making you flinch. 

“Yes, please get them off of me, it’s hot,” you whined.

You were left in just your underwear beneath him. You were usually pretty confident with sexual partners, but with Minho you felt exposed, vulnerable. You felt the urge to cover yourself, even though he was looking at you like you were a star amongst the cosmos. 

He repositioned himself lower in between your legs and before you could ask what he was doing, he pressed his tongue against your clothed cunt, licking a fat stripe between your folds.

You cried out in surprise, hips bucking into his face as a string of curses left your mouth. 

Minho raised his head, smiling sheepishly. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. I’ve been imagining what you taste like for weeks. I just had to know.”

“It felt good,” you assured him, silently begging him to continue. “Was it what you hoped it would be?”

“Better. Can I please keep going?”

“God, yes.”

He placed a hand on either one of your thighs to hold you down as he buried his head in between your legs again. He teased you with his tongue over your panties, finding your clit in an impressively short amount of time. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pushing his head against you. He groaned, his grip on your thighs tightening as you pulled his hair.

“Please, need more,” you whined. 

And Minho was all too willing to give you exactly that. Instead of taking the time to take your panties off, he just pulled them to the side so that he could have complete access to your pussy. He went back to work and you both moaned. His tongue was wet and warm and felt perfect on your clit. You frowned when he started moving lower, confused as to what he was doing until you felt his tongue working you open. No one had ever tongue-fucked you before and you thought you might cum from that alone. 

Minho paused again to catch his breath. “Fuck, I knew you were wet, but I didn’t expect you to be this wet,” he rasped out. 

“Sorry,” you hissed, cheeks warm with embarrassment.

“Who the fuck ever told you to apologize for being turned on?”

“N-no one.”

“Good, because it’s hot.”

You scoffed. 

“Lay back down,” Minho said, nodding at you to punctuate his point. 

You rolled your eyes at him but did as he said anyway. “You’re so bossy.”

“Do you want me to keep going or not?”

“Fine, fine. Sorry.”

“I fucking knew you were a brat,” he sneered. 

“What gave it away?” you asked sweetly. 

“Take a wild guess.”

You propped yourself up on your elbows again despite just being told to lie down. “And what are you going to do about it?”

Instead of answering, Minho hooked his arms under your thighs and pulled you to the edge of the bed, making you lose your balance and yelp in surprise. You watched his shoulder muscles flex as he used his strength to push your hips down, preventing you from squirming. The sight was enough to make you want to squeeze your thighs together, but of course, Minho was stopping you from doing just that. 

He pulled your panties off completely this time, apparently frustrated with the obstacle in his way. They joined the heap of clothes on the ground. You didn’t even need to look at them to know that they were ruined. 

His mouth was back on you before you could get another word in, causing any snarky remark you’d been about to make dissolve into a moan. It was a little sloppy at first. He had yet to fully regain his bearings, but dove in headfirst anyway. Kisses against the crux of your thigh, nips at your hip bones. Teasing and experimental. 

His touch didn’t have the practiced familiarity of a lover. Each movement was eager, exploratory. He was learning your body like he had all the time in the world, but you were growing impatient. 

Your hands flew to his hair again as he finally laved his tongue over your clit. You suppressed your moans this time, remembering what he had said about the neighbors. 

“Fuck, keep going,” you hissed, encouraging him to continue. “Please keep going.”

You could feel Minho smirking against your pussy, but you didn’t care. He could be as cocky as he wanted if he was going to make you feel this good. 

It didn’t take much to get you to the edge. It had been a while since you’d gotten laid, and you had been wanting Minho for God knows how long… you would usually be embarrassed, not want to give a man a bigger ego than he already had, but you had a feeling Minho was trying to get you to cum before fucking you and you wanted him inside of you as quickly as possible. If anything, you were doing him a favor. 

“C-close, Min. ‘M really close!”

You could barely make out the muffled “already?” that came from him between your legs, but you still rolled your eyes anyway, half-tempted to push his head away. 

He guided two of his fingers inside of you, giving you something to clench around as you came. The intention behind the action is what did it. He clearly cared about your pleasure which was rare to find in a partner, especially when said partner was a man. 

You came almost instantly, catching Minho off-guard as if “I’m close” hadn’t been warning enough. He must have taken it as an advanced notice rather than an immediate head’s up. He grunted in surprise as you bucked your hips up into his face, but recovered quickly, helping you ride out the orgasm until you relaxed back on the bed. 

He lifted his head finally, grinning like he’d just won the lottery, and sucked your arousal off of his fingers, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand shortly afterward.

“Good?” he asked. 

“Really good,” you managed to choke out. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah, take your pants off.”

Minho chuckled. “Should’ve known you’d only want me for my body.”

You pursed your lips but didn’t bother responding. You both knew that wasn’t true. Otherwise, why would you be risking everything just to fuck him? 

Minho pushed himself off of the bed and shimmied out of his pants. As good as he looked in the gray sweats, you knew he would look even better with them off. And you were right. Even though he was still wearing his briefs, you could see the outline of his dick much more prominently. It made your mouth water and you sat up and shifted onto your knees to return the favor he had just given you. 

Minho saw you reaching out for him but shook his head. 

“I need to feel you,” he said, voice strained. “If that’s okay. I already almost came in my pants just from eating you out, I won’t last.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Not many men would admit to that.”

“Not many men would admit to getting off on making their partner feel good? You’re right.” 

You watched as he picked his pants up off the floor and pulled a condom out of one of the pockets. 

“Oh now you have a condom?” you teased.

“Look, I usually have them on me, I just didn’t that night,” he exclaimed in defense, the thin foil packet between his teeth. He ripped it open and pulled the rubber out, only pausing when you spoke again. 

“You don’t keep them in your wallet, do you?”

“I do, but I change them out pretty often. Is that okay?” 

“That’s fine.”

With that settled, he slipped out of his underwear and rolled the condom on with ease. He joined you on the bed a moment later. You laid back and waited for Minho to position himself. 

“Wait-” you whispered suddenly, having been so in the moment that you had almost forgotten. “Are you clean?”

Minho let out a sigh of relief, probably having thought something was wrong. “Yeah, I got tested like two months ago.” 

“But the other night with that girl-”

“I didn’t sleep with her.”

“Oh. Why?”

“I mean, I fully intended to, if I’m being honest. But I just… couldn’t.”

“Couldn’t get it up?” 

“Something like that,” he sighed. “I probably should’ve asked this before going down on you, but you’re clean too, right?”

You nodded. “I get tested all the time and I haven’t had sex in a while.”

“That makes two of us.” 

You looked at him expectantly. “You may… continue.”

“I’m surprised that didn’t immediately make my dick soft.”

“Oh, give me a break. My brain is still fuzzy from cumming.”

He snorted. “You’re welcome.”

“I can’t believe that didn’t immediately make me dry up.”

“I’m allowed to be cocky!” he protested. “I made you cum in, what, a minute flat?”

“It took longer than a minute!”

“I don’t know about that. I think we should check the replay.”

“You’re such a dork.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “And that must really turn you on. ‘Cause last time I checked you were dripping onto the sheets.”

“I-” you had nothing. You squeezed your thighs around Minho’s waist, trying to coax him inside of you. “Just stick it in already!”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he repeated.

You held onto his arms as he pushed himself in, sighing in relief at the fullness. He wasn’t the biggest you’d ever had, but he was still sizable. You had to take a second to adjust to the stretch before he could start to move. He fit perfectly, at least that’s what it felt like. You were positive he could tell how much you liked his cock from the way you unconsciously clenched around him, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to care. If his ego inflated to the size of the moon after this, fuck it.

“Fuck, st-stop doing that,” Minho stuttered, pressing one of his hands against your hip to try and keep you still. 

“I’m not doing anything!”

“You’re, God, you’re squeezing me so tight,” he hissed. “If you keep clenching like that I’m gonna cum.”

“Oh sorry, I didn’t even realize.”

You took a deep breath and willed your body to relax. It had been so long since you’d been properly fucked and you didn’t want it to be over before it even started. 

“Are you good to keep going?” Minho asked once he’d regained some semblance of composure. 

“Yeah,” you breathed out. “Yeah, fuck please move.”

He leaned down to kiss you as he began to rock his hips into yours and you met him halfway. You could still taste yourself on his tongue, on his lips. He groaned into your mouth and nipped at your bottom lip when you pulled away. 

“You feel so fucking good, baby,” he confessed, voice raspy. 

Baby was new. And it made you whimper in response. 

“So goddamn tight. It’s like your pussy was made for me.”

Did he say this to every girl he fucked? Because it sounded like a line, but it was working like a charm on you. 

As if he realized he was rambling, he busied his mouth in other ways. He kissed your neck, careful not to leave marks, before moving down to the valley of your breasts where he continued his work. The way he lowered himself onto you pushed his cock in even deeper, something you didn’t think was possible. 

His lips were warm. They were so warm. Each kiss felt like you were touching the sun. You could feel the heat against your skin even as he moved away, pressing kisses elsewhere. 

“What’s got you smiling like that?” Minho asked. 

You hadn’t even realized that you had been smiling, or that he had stopped kissing you. He was going faster now too. You hadn’t noticed that either. You were far too gone, clearly.

“Feels good,” was as much as you could manage, but that seemed to satisfy Minho. 

“Yeah? Have I fucked you dumb already?” he cooed condescendingly. 

You nodded. “Feels sooo good. Feel so full.”

You’d be embarrassed by your barely-comprehensible sentences, but you didn’t have the capacity to feel anything other than pleasure in that moment. You doubted you’d even remember what you said in the morning. 

“You close again, baby?”

“Uh huh.”

“Fuck, me too. I’ll get you there, though. I’ll make you feel even better.”

He brought one of his hands down to your clit and used his thumb to rub somewhat uncoordinated circles on it. He was gentler than he had been before, like he knew you were still sensitive from cumming the first time. The added stimulation brought you back to the edge in record time and all you could do to alert Minho of what was happening was frantically grab his bicep and squeeze it repeatedly.

“Gonna cum? Go ahead, baby.”

Your entire body tensed as your second orgasm of the night washed over you. Minho fucked you through it again, announcing that he was cumming right as you started to come down. Watching his face scrunch up in pleasure as he came was almost enough to send you into a third orgasm. His eyes shut and his mouth fell open into an O shape as his hips faltered. He didn’t stop thrusting until he was certain he’d given you every last drop of his cum, choking out a string of curses followed by your name through gritted teeth. 

He collapsed on top of you seconds later, completely spent and still inside of you. 

“Fuck, that was good,” he panted. You nodded in agreement, wincing when you felt him pull out. “You okay?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think I can walk. My legs feel like jelly.”

“Would another orgasm help?”

“No,” you groaned. “I can’t take another one.”

“I was kidding. C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up and back to your room.”

“Nooo, I’m tired,” you whined. 

“I know, I know,” he said softly, “but you can’t sleep here. Unless you want Jisung to find out?”

“Fine,” you mumbled. Your eyes were closed, but you could hear him moving around the hotel room. “Just give me like five minutes to nap.”

“You know I can’t do that.” When you opened your eyes he was wearing pants again and standing beside the bed waiting for you. “You need to shower. And pee. A UTI in the middle of vacation would really suck.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“You’re impossible.”

“You knew that before sleeping with me.”

“Yeah, and I still did it anyway. Now, get up.”

“You’re so bossy,” you muttered under your breath, repeating the sentiment you had already voiced. Minho just chuckled and helped you to your feet.

“You seemed to like that earlier.”

“Yeah, when you were making me cum.”

“Well, I won’t be able to make you cum anymore if you contract an infection. So I have to be bossy or else you won’t listen.” 

“Or else you won’t listen,” you mocked. 

Minho grinned despite himself and shook his head at you. “We should’ve started doing this way sooner.”

hope y'all liked this one :) lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

iou tags: @gimmeurtmi @phobia0325 @fwess @hipsdofangirl @galaxleeknow @urmomma0324 @bangmechanpls @102598s @farfromsugafanfic @ritzy-roo @dimpledsatan @bvselines @wonderfulshinee @imwithurmother @smollquokka @rosexjimin @skizzel @endzii23 @lady-lena @kwanisms @ch4nniebang @lilramennoodle @babyphotos0325 @dearalice @sojohns @mistlitmoonlight @yoontaethings @babebatter @mal-lunar-28 @shy-kisu @zerefdragn33l @downbadreading @sana-within-you @saquso @bunnispaces @reianagarcia @hyunehans @imtooyoungforthisshit @i8rsie @honeslykindahorny @214racha @hgema @chillllllli @vixensss @smhlino @feiyaa @borahae-reads @bigbearenergy @hoodiesandicedcoffee @darkacademic2512 @y00nzin0 @i8yul @shinypieceofgarbage @woozarts @just-a-little-delulu @djeniryuu @hbzzzbork000 @mimzibee @sofiaslayed @kangyounghyunhands @lexxxxs-things @baejinswrld @gaysontheprince @emogril @ngengngeng

add yourself to my taglist here!

[justastraymoa]

Unwilling Alpha

Chapter 6

Masterlist

Taglist

Y/n back in their hard worked for life.

Warnings ⚠️ swears, abo dynamics, mentions of slave trade, mentions of rape, mentions of abuse, mentions of death, fear, manipulation.

Nothing within reflects anyone or anything irl. Pics off pinterest.

-

My apartment, when I got in late, was the same as when I left it. Everything is so familiar. So very quiet. Too quiet. I had grown used to the Omegas and their chaos.

Groaning and hurting I collapsed onto my familiar mattress and fell asleep instantly. Physically and emotionally drained.

Early the next morning I dragged myself out of bed and got ready to get back to normal. Getting dressed on autopilot I didn’t notice that I was wearing a Stray Kids hoodie until I caught sight of myself in the mirror as I grabbed my bag.

The sight made me freeze. Pain shot through my chest, and my eyes burned with tears that I couldn't afford to let fall right now. I can’t lose it. I don’t have enough time. Right now, I need to change and get to work. There was a pile of things that needed caught up on, and the pile wasn’t getting any smaller by standing here.

Unfreezing myself I ripped the hoodie off and tossed it in the corner behind the door. I will deal with it later. I left the house in just my thin t-shirt and jeans, too lazy to go and get another hoodie.

I regretted that decision almost immediately after arriving at work. There was a location shoot scheduled and it was outdoors. I would be freezing within minutes of getting there.

Luckily Angela was there. She was the front desk receptionist at our store front studio. She did a wonderful job entertaining customers when shoots ran over or we were running late for one reason or another. She reminded me of Felix. Made friends so easily and was always smiling, always friendly and sunshiny.

Today, looking at her hurt because she reminded me so much of the blonde ray of sunshine incarnate, but that wasn’t her fault and I tried to remind myself of that as I approached her desk, fake smile plastered on my face like the lie it was.

"Hey Ang! Long time no see!” I greeted resting an elbow on the high counter.

“y/n! How was your vacation? I didn’t even know you were going on one until you didn’t show up! Where did you go?” She fired off questions quickly in her excitement.

“It was fun.” I answered generically. “Do you have a jacket I can borrow for the graduation shoot? I forgot mine.”

“Absolutely! You must have been somewhere warm to get out of the habit of grabbing a jacket this time of year. I’m so jealous!” She handed me a bright pink fuzzy monstrosity that I would normally never be caught dead in. It looked like someone murdered the pink panther and made a jacket out of him.

However, it was this jacket or freeze to death. So, I took the jacket with a grateful nod and slipped it on. It smelled like lavender, Angelas preferred perfume. I flashed back to the painting of dried lavender I had back home, propped up in the closet because I didn’t want to be reminded of Hyunjin every time I caught a glimpse of it.

The shoot was at an overgrown train tracks. It was hidden in the woods, almost unseen if you weren’t looking for the rusted metal tracks. It was drizzling just enough to make everything glisten. Perfect for the shoot, cold for those of us who had to be in it. I was glad I opted to take the jacket Ang offered. I would need to have it dry cleaned and returned to her soon so I could thank her properly. Maybe bring her her favorite bougie coffee from the little shop down the road from the studio.

The customer for the graduation shoot was a female Omega, and for a short moment, my blood ran cold because I thought she would somehow know I was an Alpha. The more rational part of myself knew that I had taken my supplements, and it had been plenty long enough that they were in full effect. There was no way she would be able to smell Alpha on me. But I wasn’t feeling very rational at the moment.

I took a few extra minutes setting up my camera so I could get my panic under control. The Omega and her Beta mother were giving me odd looks, most likely smelling my panic in the air even over the metal smell from the tracks and the pine smell of the trees around us. The mossy wet earth not covering the acrid scent of panic emanating from me.

My hand felt warm, and I remembered when Chan took it on the plane when I was starting to panic that the other passengers could smell me. I’m not even sure he registered what he was doing. He was just aiming to make me feel better. To make me feel safe.

Despite the pang of hurt thinking of Chan created, I brought that feeling of safety back to the forefront of my mind. Remembered what it felt like to feel secure, even as exposed and vulnerable as I was. I closed my eyes and remembered.

It worked. With a deep breath, I turned and started the shoot, setting up the female Omega in poses that showed off both the beautiful location and her.

Normally, after a location shoot, I would take the rest of the day to edit the photos or even go home and edit the photos there. But I didn’t want to go home. That was where I remembered soft socked Chan sitting on my couch with JYP not that long ago. That was where I smelled the clothes I took with me that still have their scents clinging to them. That was where I had Stray Kids memorabilia on every surface with their faces staring out at me. That was where I hurt the most.

So instead, I immediately got started on an in studio family shoot that was waiting when I got back to the studio. It was a large family of 21 consisting of mother, father, their 5 grown kids, 8 grandchildren, and 6 great grandchildren. The youngest being just a couple of weeks old. It was chaotic and loud. The children were running around playing and fighting with each other. The parents were trying to corral them and yelling at each other when the children wouldn’t listen.

Normally, I would be annoyed as hell. This was taking way longer than their allotted and paid for hour of time, and it didn’t look like it would resolve itself any time soon. But despite that, I found myself smiling fondly as I watched and patiently waited for everyone to settle down. It made me feel warm. This is what it was like with Stray Kids, and I missed it now that I didn’t have it.

Eventually, everyone settled, and I was able to get a few decent shots where everyone was looking at the camera and not crying. As I walked them out, I promised them I would have the photos ready in 2 days, despite our standard time frame of 1 week. Ang gave me an odd look when she heard it, but didn’t say anything about it.

I stayed well after everyone else went home to edit the photos of both shoots and try and catch up on some of the edits we were behind on because of me. It was after midnight before I deemed myself exhausted enough to go home.

I avoided going online or listening to my music. Both were saturated with Stray Kids, and I couldn’t bring myself to listen to them or read up on any news about them. The countdown clock lived in the back of my mind unwanted, but I couldn’t seem to help that. Soon, it would hit 0, and this would all be over.

I spent time cleaning up the house. Packing up the acrylic standees of the boys and the skzoo plushies I had displayed on a bookshelf. Boxing the albums carefully in plastic so they would be safe from possible flooding or water damage. I took down the posters and photocards on the walls in each room, putting them safely in folders or binders and packing them away as well. The shirts and hoodies, blankets and pillowcases, all went into weatherproof boxes and placed in my storage closet, carefully labelled.

Without all my stuff hanging up, the walls were very plain and bare. It felt like I had just moved in. Like the guest room I stayed in with the boys. All neutral and white. Made for guests and not to be lived in and personalized by any one person.

I convinced myself that it was for the best. That this was all a part of healing from the upheaval and heartbreak.

And it worked. I locked any pain that came away inside my chest. That’s where my heartbreak lived, and I was keeping it there until it faded away with time. I just had to stay strong until it did.

I firmly thought of something else anytime something reminded me of one of the boys. Ignored the weather when it was sunny or stormy. Even started favoring pastel colors in my outfits and photoshoots alike. If anyone noticed, no one said anything. And I ignored any strange looks sent my way.

My life was getting back to exactly what I worked for it to be. This was my choice.

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

Unwilling Alpha Taglist: @xxeiraxx @hanniemylovelyquokka @breadedloafs @songleepark @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @hyunjinhoexxx @kayleefriedchicken @vietjeb @hityoulikebahng @juju-227592 @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @royal-shinigami @bangchansfavoritenoona @straykidslvr @bookswillfindyouaway @h0rnyp0t @Svmmerstime @jennibahng @kpopandmusicpassion

[byersbootyshorts]

hi! can you please write a fic about clingy bf spencer reid? i would love it! thank you!!

Just a Phone Call Away (S.R.)

Spencer's knee injury means he's stuck at Quantico while the rest of the team go off to hunt an unsub. And he does not cope well with being away from you for long.

Word Count: 1,986

Warnings: clingy!s5!Spencer, gn!reader, fluff, the tiniest bit of angst, gun shot

this was such a good request omg

“Reid, I’m sorry but you’re staying here,” Hotch ordered. Spencer’s face contorted into an annoyed expression.

“Hotch, come on. I’m fine,” he argued. “The doctor said if my knee didn’t hurt I could still fly.”

“I don’t care what your doctor said,” Hotch said sternly. “You are not getting on our jet with your knee in a brace. You’ll stay here and help Garcia. That’s an order.”

Spencer slumped in his chair, defeated.

“Spencer, I’ll be fine,” you urged him. You were about to get on the jet and leave Spencer in Virginia. Since the two of you had started dating you’d never been apart for long. Being on the same team made that possible. But now that Spencer was being forced to stay behind while you left to hunt an unsub, he realised just how much he dreaded being away from you.

“Yeah, but what if you get hurt?” he asked.

“We’ve been in the field together more times than I can count. Why the sudden concern for my safety?” you replied.

“Because I won’t be there this time. If you get hurt there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Spence, I’m not a child. I can handle myself,” you smiled and pulled him into your embrace.

“I’ll miss you,” Spencer mumbled into your shoulder.

“You’re so soppy,” you teased him. “But I’ll miss you too. And remember, I’ll just be a phone call away.”

Spencer watched miserably as the jet took off and flew you far away from him. He didn’t realise how much of a co-dependent person he was until he met you. The thought of you potentially being in a life threatening situation while he sat uselessly with his knee in a brace made him feel physically sick.

The wheels of the jet had barely left the runway when your phone chimed. You picked it up and chuckled when you saw the message.

I love you. Please be safe. ❤️

You quickly typed a reply.

Only if you promise to rest your knee. I love you too &lt;3

Emily noticed you smiling down at your phone and asked, “Is that Spencer?”

“Yeah,” you responded. “We’ve only been apart for 30 minutes and he’s already worried about me.”

“He’s clingy, huh?” Emily said.

“Incredibly.”

The flight wasn’t long and soon you, JJ and Rossi were settled in a cramped conference room in the local police department. As usual, Hotch had called Garcia on the plane to give the briefing. This time Spencer sat beside her on the small laptop screen. Hotch had told you all what to do when you landed and instructed Spencer to work on victimology back at Quantico.

When you saw his name pop up on your phone you assumed he’d found some connections between the victims. You put your phone on speaker so your teammates could hear before answering.

“Hey, you got something?”

There was a pause before Spencer spoke.

“Uh, no, not yet. I was just calling to make sure you landed safely.”

“It was a very smooth landing, Reid. No complaints,” Rossi said and JJ laughed. Your face blushed red and you grabbed your phone to turn it off speaker.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise I was on speaker,” Spencer’s voice crackled over the line.

“It’s ok. It’s just me now,” you said, walking out of the conference room. “Did you really just call to see if I got here ok.”

“Of course I did,” Spencer said as if it was obvious. “What if the jet crashed? I just wanted to make sure you were safe.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. Spencer was one of the most rational people you knew. But when it came to you he was so illogical it was laughable.

“Well, Spence, I’m fine,” you told him. “Listen, I have to go. Call me if you find anything.”

Spencer said goodbye and you hung up.

Hotch had sent you and Rossi to interview one of the victims families later that day. You were in the middle of listening to the mother of the victim talk about her son when your phone started ringing. When you saw that it was Spencer you excused yourself and stepped out into the kitchen.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, not wanting to miss much of the interview.

“Hey, can you talk?” Spencer asked plainly.

“Uh, not really,” you said confused. He knew you were working. Why would he think you could talk? “Why? Do you need something?”

“No, I just wanted to hear your voice,” he said softly. “But it’s ok if you’re doing something.”

“Sorry, Spence, we’re interviewing a victim’s family,” you apologised. “But I’ll call you later. I promise.”

“Ok, I love you.”

“I love you too. Bye,” you said before hanging up and going back to the interview.

You got to the hotel the team were staying at pretty late that night. You had just showered and were about to call Spencer as you promised when your phone rang. Of course it was Spencer.

“Hey, I was just about to call you,” you said when you answered.

“Oh, good, you’re ok. It was getting late and I was starting to get worried,” Spencer quickly rambled.

“Oh my God, please stop worrying about me,” you said a little sharply. “I just lost track of time at the police department. You don’t have to call me every two seconds.”

“I’m sorry,” Spencer said with a small voice. “I can’t help it.”

You sighed to calm yourself down. It was cute that he cared so much about you. But the constant calls were starting to wear you down a little.

“I know. And I’m sorry too. I should be more appreciative that you worry about me.”

You were both silent for a moment. You regretted snapping at Spencer. You knew how clingy he was after all. A few seconds passed before Spencer broke the silence.

“Can we switch to facetime?” he asked. You raised an eyebrow.

“Sure, but why?”

“I want to see you,” he explained.

You hastily switched the call to facetime and his face appeared on your screen. It was dark aside from the dim glow of the lamp beside his bed. His hair was pulled back and still slightly damp.

“You happy now?” you said, smiling at him.

“Very,” he replied.

Your mouth opened into a wide yawn and Spencer’s face dropped.

“You’re tired,” he observed. “Do you want me to go?”

“No, it’s ok. It’s just been a long day,” you replied. But as you spoke you yawned again. “Ok, maybe I am tired,” you admitted.

“Can we stay on facetime when we fall asleep?” Spencer asked shyly. You let out a short giggle at his suggestion.

“You really can’t live without me, can you?” you asked with a smirk.

“Nope,” Spencer said. “And I’m not ashamed of it.”

You set your phone on the pillow beside you and drifted off to sleep. Spencer stared at you long after you’d lost consciousness, just listening to your breathing and imagining you were really there beside him.

The next day Spencer didn’t stop incessantly calling you. He called you in the morning. He called you when you were delivering the profile. He called you when you were driving to a suspect’s house. You tried your best to see the good in it but if he unnecessarily called you one more time you were afraid you were going to lose it.

You and Emily had just arrived at a suspect’s house. This man had been spotted near two of the crime scenes just minutes before the murders. You were betting he was your unsub. You knocked on his door but no one answered. That’s when Emily noticed a shed around the back of the house. You followed her towards it but stopped abruptly when your phone started vibrating in your pocket. You swore under your breath when you saw Spencer’s name on the screen. You told Emily you’d only be a minute and answered your phone.

“Spencer, I love you but please for the love of God do not call me for the next few hours,” you snapped.

“Actually, I was calling to tell you you’re definitely at the unsub’s house. His prints match the ones found at the crime scene,” Spencer said bluntly. You could hear the offence in his voice.

“Oh,” you said, cursing yourself for letting your anger get the better of you. “Well, thanks. Sor-,”

You were interrupted by a gun shot that made you jump out of your skin. You quickly blurted out, “Spence, I have to go,” before hanging up.

It turned out the gun shot came from Emily’s gun. The unsub had snuck up on you while you were on the phone and was about to shoot you before Emily pulled her gun on him. Now, you were on your way back home. The case was closed. You’d tried calling Spencer multiple times before getting on the plane but he wasn’t picking up. You figured he was angry at you for losing your temper.

When you finally touched down at Quantico the first thing you did was go looking for Spencer. You didn’t find him at his desk so you headed towards Garcia’s office.

“Hey, have you seen Spencer?” you asked when you entered. “I’ve been calling him but he hasn’t been picking up.”

“Oh, you didn’t hear?” she said, surprised.

“Hear, what?”

“Well, when Spencer heard that gun shot over the phone he didn’t know if you were ok,” Garcia began. “He started panicking and the idiot got up without his crutches and fell over.”

Your jaw dropped. “Is he ok?” you questioned.

“I took him to the hospital and the doctor said he should be on bed rest for the next few weeks, but he’s fine,” Garcia explained. “He probably hasn’t called you because he’s sleeping.”

“Ok, thanks Penelope,” you said, relieved to know Spencer was ok.

You got to Spencer’s apartment as fast as you could and used the key he gave you to let yourself in. You headed straight towards his bedroom and opened the door just a crack. When you peeked inside you saw Spencer lying sprawled out on top of the covers, his knee covered in a new bandage and brace. The steady rise and fall of his chest told you that he was in fact sleeping as Garcia had said.

You quietly made your way to the bed and sat down beside him. Leaning down, you placed a gentle kiss on his forehead and whispered his name.

He sniffed and stirred from his slumber. When he registered who was sitting next to him his eyes immediately lit up.

“You’re back,” he croaked, sleep still evident in his voice. “Are you ok? I heard a gun shot.”

“I’m fine,” you told him. “Never better.”

Spencer grabbed your hand so tightly he cut off your blood flow.

“I was right when I said you can’t live without me,” you laughed.

“Being away from you almost killed me,” he replied.

“Well, you got that right. You got put on bed rest.”

Spencer suddenly buried his head in your chest. “I missed you so much,” he murmured into your shirt.

“I missed you too, baby,” you said, kissing his forehead once more.

Spencer’s arms wrapped so tightly around you, you could barely move. He practically glued himself to you. You had planned on taking a shower and changing out of your work clothes but he had you in such a chokehold that all you could do was lie down beside him as he wrapped himself around you even more. He breathed in your scent and immediately started to melt into you, as though all the tension in his body vanished in your presence.

“Please, don’t ever leave me again,” he said.

“I won’t. I promise,” you whispered, stroking his hair as he fell asleep, happy to be in your arms again.

[eowynstwin]

Hi everyone. It's been a while—exactly a month since I last posted to this blog. How have you been?

A month isn't really all that long, but it's enough time to be able to look at everything that happened and understand it better. In the end, the whole situation (I've been calling it The Fuckening in my head) really didn't have anything to do with me. I was unlucky enough to run across someone willing to hurt anyone they could for attention, but also lucky enough that everyone who mattered to me in this fandom went to bat for me.

So I’ve decided to come back to this blog. I'll be posting about call of duty again as well as posting my writing. I also plan to blog about other fandoms (I’d already been doing it anyway); I've been getting back into rdr2, for example, and there's some writing I'd like to do for that.

There’s more context which I’ll put below the cut, but that’s the most important part of what I have to say; I often regret how long winded I can be, so the rest is just self indulgence if you can forgive it. I’ve thought a lot about this choice and I’m satisfied with my decision. I hope none of you will mind.

So, lol, things were not great outside of fandom stuff when it all kicked off, though I didn’t mention it publicly because we all know by now that asking for any sympathy when you’re the target of a mob is more likely to just get you raked over the coals harder. I’m still not entirely sure about talking about all of this, but I have a bad tendency to clam up when I really should be asking for support. So:

I mentioned briefly before the accusations started flying that I was dealing with bedbugs—turns out it was actually something else, but leading up to a doctor’s visit I was convinced I had an infestation, and I was stripping my bed every day to look for them. I had alarms set to wake me up twice a night to see if I could catch them, so I was not sleeping all that well. I couldn’t find anything, but I had no other explanation, and it was driving me fucking crazy. Post doctor visit it turns out I had a viral infection. No idea where I caught it, and nothing to do but wait it out. I had a massive, gnarly looking rash all over my body, and to add insult to injury I developed a fever that took me out for a whole weekend. (I’m recovered now but I have a nifty new scar on my hip from getting a biopsy.)

Next to that, I was having some PTSD flareups of my own. This was (mostly) unrelated to The Fuckening. Now, I understand that that might be hard to believe, given “Myka’s” claims, and I can’t make you believe me. Nor will I provide details to convince you, other than to say there were some things going on in my neighborhood that recalled a period of time in my life that was extremely unstable, and I found myself irrationally terrified to go home every day. For those of you who don’t experience the symptoms of PTSD, I think it’s appropriate to note that it isn’t just emotional turmoil; I, personally, experience physical pain in my entire body that lingers for hours, days, or even weeks after being triggered. (Everything regarding this, too, is fine now. I have a great therapist and a supportive family.)

All of this to say, I wasn’t exactly thinking rationally when I decided to leave this blog and fandom. And I regretted the decision almost instantly.

However, I didn’t want to let grief make any decisions for me, and also I was still VERY scared Myka was going to hunt down my personal information and either dox or harass me elsewhere. I think this fear was justified; it has happened to other writers in this fandom before.* So I decided to take some time to cool off and watch the situation develop without me.

I don’t think I need to get into the details—although if you’re interested in them, @fulltacs has been keeping track of the drama. Given the most recent development with the four obviously sock puppet blogs that popped up and immediately began stirring shit up again, I realized Myka probably would have done what she did with or without me. I just so happened to give her the ammunition she needed to do something REALLY big. It was pure bad luck.

(Also—and I’m sorry if this is just stirring the pot, but after everything they did to me I feel I deserve to make the accusation—I’ve suspected for a while that the two loudest blogs leading the witch hunt against me were far more involved in this farce than anyone has assumed. I have no proof and I do not want anyone to do anything about it on my behalf, leave them the fuck alone. But I will not forget the distress they caused me for a long fucking time, and the only way for me to let this go is to say my piece. So there. Done. Let that be the end of it.)

Having this hindsight, I feel comfortable coming back. I’m still very touched by everyone’s support, which in the end was louder than the harassment. I also think it’s important for people who care about fighting racism in any community not to run at the first sign of trouble, which I did, and I feel pretty sorry for.

That’s the gist of things. If you’ve read all of this, thank you for doing so!

*I was going to add a paragraph about halfmoth-halfman’s situation but decided against it. For one thing, she wants to be left alone, and for another, talking about the experiences of fans of color, particularly black fans, deserves its own post separate from my white experience, if I should even post about it at all.

[hotdaemondtargaryen]

TOM GLYNN-CARNEY INTERVIEWED FOR NERDIST MAGAZINE.

I'M TOLD YOU'RE ON HOLIDAY IN A REMOTE AREA, SO I HAVE TO ASK THE OBVIOUS QUESTION: ARE YOU CURRENTLY VACATIONING IN BRAVOS?

"[Laughs] No."

"No, I’m not."

INTERVIEWER: I’m in [actual location] — which Nerdist can confirm is beautiful — withheld so Aemond Targaryen doesn’t find out.

DO YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHERE LARYS IS TAKING AEGON? IS IT REALLY BRAAVOS?

"Can’t disclose that information at this point, I don’t think."

"But wherever it is, it’s somewhere."

"Sorry, I just made that up. I don’t know."

DOES AEGON HAVE ANY DOUBTS ABOUT LARYS OR DOES HE FULLY TRUST HIM AT THIS POINT?

"He’s the best of a bad bunch in the Red Keep."

"I think there is a certain amount of trust that he has towards Larys just because there’s common ground."

"They’re both physically impaired now, and Larys has lived his entire life in that state."

"So there’s some sort of connectivity going on there, but also it seems like he does have Aegon’s best interests at heart at this point."

"I don’t think Aegon wants to look too much into that at the moment."

"He will find cracks in the woodwork."

"So yeah, he’s a lifeline at the moment."

"And he shall be used accordingly."

AT THIS POINT HOW DOES AEGON FEEL ABOUT HIS MOTHER ALICENT?

"That’s a good question."

"I think he feels there’s this undying love that he has for Alicent."

"Aegon, he’s her first born son, and yet there’s never been this kind of understanding or eye-to-eye that they’ve had."

"He knows she’s flawed, and she knows he’s flawed, and I think they expect a lot from each other that neither of them are able to give."

"But at this point, he’s not thinking that rationally."

"He likes to point the finger and he needs to find somebody to blame."

"He blames Aemond, of course."

"But also for it to get to this point, Alicent has sort of steered the ship in a certain way."

"So yeah, there’s a lot going on there."

"It’s quite a complex relationship."

I KNOW AS AN ACTOR YOU HAVE TO FIND AEGON'S HUMANITY, BUT DOES THE KING HIMSELF RECOGNIZE, IN ANY WAY, HE'S A MONSTER?

"I think he’s dancing with the idea of being loved and feared at the same time."

"I know I’ve said that in interviews before, but I think it’s a good way of putting it."

"Those two things don’t really go together."

"He’s trying to work out a way for his approach to being the king and to ruling."

"He’s trying to strike a balance where he remains effective, but also people listen to him."

"At the moment he hasn’t been listened to, which is kind of why he’s had to force himself into this position of being proactive in a way that he was not ready to do."

"So, no, I don’t think he thinks he’s a monster because I don’t think he is a monster."

"I think he’s somebody who’s very tortured and traumatized by his own making really."

"But I also think it makes somebody more dangerous when they don’t realize potential."

"I don’t think he does quite just yet."

CONSIDERING I KNOW HOW IMPORTANT AEGON IS TO THE STORY, I WAS VERY FRUSTRATED BY HOW LITTLE THE SHOW FEATURED YOU IN SEASON ONE. DID YOU KNOW BACK THEN JUST HOW BIG YOUR ROLE WOULD BE IN SEASON TWO?

"I was warned it was an introduction."

"Just in terms of the time jump."

"We couldn’t really have the older versions of our characters, myself and Helaena and Aemond and the likes, because of the time jump we were making."

"I understood season one was always more of an introduction to our versions of these characters, and season two would really lift off."

"And season three and onwards would just get tastier and tastier as time went on."

"So no, I didn’t feel shortchanged or let down or anything."

"I was always updated with the plan."

THE SHOW IS CHARTING IT'S OWN COURSE AND MAKING SOME BIG CHANGES TO THE DANCE OF THE DRAGONS. HAVE (SHOWRUNNER) RYAN CONDAL AND THE WRITERS GIVEN YOU A HEADS UP ON WHAT AWAITS AEGON IN SEASONS THREE AND FOUR?

"Yeah, I’ve spoken to Ryan and writers Sara Hess and David Hancock a lot about their ideas, about the trajectory that they want Aegon to go on."

"They have been quite… there’s been details, but not too detailed because of giving things away and not locking things in the writing room."

"It’s exciting to listen to and it’s exciting to understand where their thoughts are and include me in that as well, which is great."

"It feels very collaborative that they want to know my thoughts and the rest of the actors on their own characters journeys really."

"It’s great."

I THINK THIS IS REALLY SAYING SOMETHING ON A SHOW THIS WELL ACTED: YOUR PERFORMANCE THIS YEAR WAS A REVELATION FOR MANY AND HAS RIGHTFULLY EARNED VERY HIGH PRAISE. WHAT'S IT BEEN LIKE PERSONALLY HEARING THAT KIND OF RESPONSE TO YOUR WORK?

"It’s very kind."

"Thank you."

"To be honest, I try and stay away from all of the conversations about it."

"It feels like my work, for now anyway, has been done."

"And I want to sort of put it to bed and move on and not really dwell on it."

"I think if I get too engaged with what people are saying, and the noises people are making, I’ll get too in my head."

"That’s not really the way I like to work."

"But I’m really glad to hear that people are responding well and they’re seeing lots of different colors to Aegon that they didn’t anticipate."

"That was my job from the first day on set, to bring this character to life in a multidimensional, varied, color palette kind of way."

"And he’s an absolute gift to play."

"I think you’d do well to do a bad job of a character like Aegon."

"He’s a gift that keeps on giving."

YOU HAD TO DO A LOT THIS YEAR AS AEGON. WHAT IS MORE CHALLENGING AS A PERFORMER: THE BIG PHYSICAL, LOUD, EMOTIONAL SCENES FROM EARLIER IN THE SEASON OR THE QUIETER ONES AFTER AEGON'S INJURIES?

"Both for different reasons."

"I dunno, that’s like comparing badminton with tennis, two very different sports."

"In terms of stamina, probably the louder, more kind of theatrical scenes."

"They require a lot of focus and a lot of energy and usually emotional depth and agility."

"But saying that, when I’m in the bed, covered in all the prosthetics and stuff, that’s tiring in its own way and difficult to remain focused on the task at hand."

"So yeah, both have their own challenges, but I revel in both arenas."

MY LAST QUESTION, AND I WOULD NOT FORGIVE MYSELF IF I DIDN'T ASK THIS, WHAT HAPPENED TO AEGON'S TERRIBLE LITTLE MUSTACHE FROM FIRE & BLOOD?

"[Laughs] Good question."

"You know what? I had this conversation with Amanda Knight, the wonderful hair and makeup designer on the show."

"We spoke about this at the start, about whether we could bring that to life, because I remember seeing pictures of him."

And she was like, 'You know what? You might not want to sustain that for the amount of time that we do this show. So maybe let’s go clean shaven and see where we get from there.'

"But that’s not to say that it might not come at some point, even though he has had his face burned, it might be half a mustache, but we’ll see."

[angelfoxx]

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° “COULD I…HELP YOU?”

… in which the genshin hybrids maybe, possibly let you help with their heats/ruts

FEATURING: gorou, tighnari, & yae miko.

WARNINGS: afab reader; do you consider eating yae out at the shrine sacrilege because if so then uh. um. scratches my neck awkwardly

NOTE/S: hey! i’m new and i eat requests UP. if u enjoy my work, pls leave a request and i’ll see if i can do it!

— GOROU

✧ He tries not to mention it to you. Key word; tries. More often than not he’s dealt with his…biological problems…during combat, and when you are leading an entire rebellion, getting off probably isn’t your top concern. Is it annoying? Yes. Does it make him irritable and short-tempered and want to commit violent crimes against the nation? Also yes. He goes absolutely apeshit insane during the worst of his cycle and chances are if you happen to be on the front lines with him you’ll see him lose his goddamn mind because while he may be a very high-ranking general he is also a bitch to the biological system and, archons, the frustration he has to otherwise ignore gets fueled into his job. he commits war crimes against the state

✧ That is, of course, until you. You are now a new factor in his life and considering that you’re not only fighting beside him but also more often than not sleeping over in his tent, bringing him food after he returns to camp, or doing who-knows-what-else, you’re bound to find out one way or another. His leading fear is that you’ll have a rather rude awakening to his issue after arriving at his tent a little too late and finding him trying to sleep, trying, because he doesn’t get much of that anymore between war and also hormones, but he’s afraid you’ll be a little too late and instead of him sleeping you’ll find him halfway curled over himself with his tortured dick slick in his hands and fierce red bleeding over his face as he tries to sate the carnal urge seething in his loins.

✧ He eventually tells you, sort of; he brings you in well before his cycle starts and tells you, as calmly as he can manage, that you should stay away from his tent because the coming week is going to be hard for him. You misunderstand, initially, and immediately start reassuring him that if the resistance is running low on supplies or rations or defenses you’ll go out no problem to provide assistance. This then leads to him having to explain that no, this isn’t anything to do with the resistance, it’s a…it’s a biological problem, and it makes me…frustrated, it frustrates me, and I don’t think I could live with myself if you got caught in the crossfire. He’s really trying not to stumble over his words — this is incredibly embarrassing, incredibly, like, tail-trying-to-tuck embarrassing — but he’s doing his best, and what more could you ask?

✧ You’re not stupid. Biological problems making him frustrated to the point of not being able to see you? He’s dancing around the whole core of the thing and so you half-laugh and look at him and his slumping ears and semi-tucked tail and rose-tinted cheeks and ask him, point blank, if he’s trying to explain rut. He seems almost scandalized by you putting it so simply, but with a whiny groan and guiltily-closing eyes he nods and affirms your suspicions. Now he’s trying to excuse himself; it’s not a big deal, I’ll be fine, I just…it would be best for you to stay away, stay away while I’m dealing with it, but you’re not having it. Obviously, he’s used to dealing with his primal side on his own, but now he has you; perhaps your clear-thinking, never-having-dealt-with-a-rut conscience is what makes you wait for him to finish rushing through his panicked monologue before you step forward, take his hand in yours, and ask if it would be a better idea for him to just…get it out of his system. You know, for the efforts of the resistance and all. It can’t be good to have General Top Dog Gorou not completely focused on the fight, right? So maybe he should just…you know, let you spend the night this coming week and just let his biological problem run its course. You know, for the resistance.

At this point, you aren’t sure whether the damp spot under your cheek is from spit or tears. You can’t exactly check either; it’s like your muscles aren’t listening to you anymore. They’re so rigid it hurts, so stiff you can’t move unless you want to lose what little composure you have left. You’re hot, so hot; despite being clothed in what are now torn-up, ragged shreds of fabric, you feel stifled, overheated; it’s not coming from your surroundings, but rather, your gut, from somewhere deep in your gut, the same place that’s making every muscle go stiff and your legs practically vibrate and your eyes roll back and oh, please, the same place that Gorou keeps hitting, blunt tip spearing up against and hammering into overdrive.

The thought swirls hazily in your head for half a second before you feel hard, slick length pull out of you, bump heavily against the back of your thigh before you hear a shuffle and then a hot tongue is prodding at your sobbing hole, carving searing lines through the thick glaze of spit, pre, and arousal coating the hot space between your legs and flooding over to the insides of your thighs. It’s been like this for so long, so long — you’ve lost track of time. You force a rolled-back eye to come forward; you gaze blearily at the ceiling of the tent, try to find the glow of the moon but it’s no use, not when everything is blurred together with tears and the world feels like it’s spinning and—

Gorou whines between your legs, laps up the arousal your cunt is all but drooling out by this point. His face is glued to you; a broken, absent consideration for whatever little things he’s got in here crosses through your mind as you hear the telltale whisk of fur on tent.

You’re leaning your hips back, ready this time when he mounts back up behind you. Both hands grope around your hips, claw at the seams of your thighs and finally find purchase quite literally on the hill of your pelvis. His chest lays up on your back; he’s burning up, skin on fire as his canines latch onto your ear and his breath threatens to burn your cheek. He doesn’t speak; he can’t, you don’t think, vocabulary reduced to a handful of pants, moans, and breathy half-words, slurred “m’gon, m’gonna, hol’n” as his stiff cockhead prods through your slit and nudges back into the sopping warmth of your cunt. Something clatters to the floor; if the rhythmic, quickening thump of his tail furiously hitting the floor in tandem with his pistoning hips, he’s close, again. How many times had he already? Four? Five, maybe? He’s still going at it as hard as he had in the start; the only indicator that his stamina is lessening is how sloppy he’s getting with his motions. He’s constantly groping around for a hold on your slick skin despite having found one immediately when this all first started; his breathing has steadily grown more labored, and you can feel saliva soaking down your neck as his teeth find purchase beside your nape and he bites down, some last effort to anchor himself as his hips twitch and a fresh rope of heat spills out against that spot deep in your gut.

— TIGHNARI

✧ Much unlike the aforementioned general, his methods of dealing with his rut are…indulgent. He knows better than anyone what the rut is and why it does what it does and how to best work with it. The other researches know this; they know that sometimes, for no apparent reason at all, he writes up a whole patrol schedule for the next several days and sends himself out on the further ones; he’ll disappear for days at a time, often excusing himself with reasoning along the lines of studying the forest over a period of days to ensure that the Withering isn’t rearing its head, or that he wants to record the state of certain formerly-affected plants over a longer section of time. Both are rather normal reasons to be excused for so long; plus, Collei’s got home base under control, and his absences aren’t necessarily unusual. So, it works.

✧ If you pry enough — but wait, Tighnari, we might need you, we’ve got this thing we’re doing…how long will you be gone for? — he’ll explain it to you, and he’ll do so rather eloquently which is wild considering that he’s really just talking about how he gets ridiculously, unbearably horny for a week or so at a time and fucks his hands several dozen times over. He explains it scientifically, simply, and comfortably; he’s casual about what he’s talking about and maybe that’s why you have to do a double take and, as he’s walking out to check on Collei and make sure she’s got things covered, you sort of sputter and turn around and ask if he’s going into rut. He just pauses, looks over his shoulder, and blinks — you feel kind of stupid when he just looks at you and dubiously goes “yes?” Somehow, despite him being the one who’s literally distancing himself so he can masturbate in peace, you feel awkward and exposed. In any case, he just walks away, very casually, to check in on Collei, leaving you to realize that oh, oh, that’s…oh.

✧ When you stop him the night before he leaves — he’s packing a satchel of whatever he needs, you’d guess — you’re the one who’s shifting on your feet and hot in the face as you ask if he needs any help. He just blinks at you, asks what you mean, and flicks an ear when you open your mouth to answer and stammer out something about helping to carry something to his temporary campsite. He says he appreciates the offer but he’s got it managed just fine; plus, he adds, you don’t want to be around someone under (what he calls) animalistic instinct. You don’t quite know how to say that uh, well, haha, funny you say that, because I kind of do, and so you just say you’re worried about him going off on his own. He laughs — he finds that quite endearing — and tells you he’ll be fine. He tells you to go get some sleep; if it’ll make you feel better, he’ll bring you some spoils from the jungle when he gets back, so you can look forward to his return for reasons other than the obvious.

✧ Which, of course, doesn’t work. He disappears the next morning, as expected, but thanks to literally scouting the whole fucking jungle a good bit of adventurer’s expertise you stumble across his camp. Camp, consisting of a hollowed-out tree stump and the starts of a nest constructed from underbrush and reeds. It doesn’t take long to find the fox himself; upon seeing you he’s quick to jump into scolding, to which you literally have to cut him off and say that no, no, you know why he’s here and you’ll leave but also you meant it if he wanted help, like you really meant it, and…

Hands balled into fists, crushing willowy reed-stems in your grasp; to say you’re being drilled into is an understatement. The world had smelled initially like the jungle — damp soil, wild flowers, sweet wood — but now it smells hot, rough, almost wild.

And it’s all because of him.

Breath coming in short, thick half-pant, half-grunts, Tighnari’s chasing refuge from the need exploding through his system; it’s evident in the tendons defined down his neck, the blueish veins starting to stick up under his skin, the sheen of sweat painting his skin a glossy golden-cream. His face tips back; quivering under him, you watch as he groans into the hot, enclosed air of his carved-out camp, watch as he swallows, hard, as if to calm himself down.

Fat chance of that, you manage to think, lifting your head just a little to try a glance at your hips. Your prostrate hips, flat against the jungle floor, legs split apart to leave room for the sharp-eyed hybrid overhead to thrust up into you.

“Is this what you wanted?” His voice is surprisingly steady, considering how hard his hips are rutting and how aggressive the slap of skin on skin has gotten. His voice is aimed down at you; he’s looking down, now, watching your expression change with sardonic eyes. Both tall ears sit almost-flat against his head; he finds you funny, right now, funny even though you’re the one he’s been so desperately fucking into. “Helping me move my stuff, huh?”

You open your mouth to answer and can’t. He knows damn well what you’d meant; he knew it then, too, when he said he’d be just fine on his own. A test to see how far you’d go, perhaps, and one that you’d succeeded. Going on a wild hunt through a jungle to go find him is certainly something, he thinks — and what kind of thanks would it be if he didn’t let you give this whole bitch thing a whirl?

Your breathing breaks as his pace grows quicker; he never falters, not even when you grab on around the small of his back snd dig your nails into the smooth planes of his back. “Gonna,” you gasp, almost voiceless; “gonna, gonna, ‘Nari, gonna…”

Black fur curls against your ankle and trails up your thigh. He finds it funny, how quick you are to break under him; but oh, silly you. Silly, silly you. One round…that won’t do. But you know that, don’t you? That’s why you came out here; to ruin yourself, or to let him ruin you. Isn’t it?

— YAE MIKO

WOMEN. WOMEN RRRRRRAUGH THIS IS MOMMY

✧ If you think anyone is gonna know shit when this woman deals with a heat cycle then you’re wrong. Wrong. Yes, it is very frustrating and yes, she’s well aware of that feeling being there and yes, archons, she’s very poignantly aware that you, her little admirer — she’s poignantly aware that whenever you’re around she finds that feeling getting a little stronger and a little harder to ignore because maybe, maybe she’s a little…a little interested in you, and maybe those comments that sound flirty but you’ve always just chalked up to her being her mean a little more than she lets on, but…no, no. She won’t tell you that. It would be embarrassing and also weird; even Ei doesn’t know about it, and Ei knows most things. She knows her rosy-haired, sly-eyed familiar has taken a liking to you, and she’s mentioned it in brief teasing every now and again — in Ei’s mind, she should really just tell you because human life is short and eternity is damn long — but what she doesn’t know is that hr same rosy-haired, sly-eyed familiar finds somewhere, anywhere — hell, half the time it’s at the shrine where she won’t be bothered — and fucks herself with her hand and pretends it’s you, pretends, and she feels more than slightly foul afterward because she’s doing it at a sacred shrine but archons, screw it, she needs to take care of this or she’ll provoke Ei into another bad decision with her attitude.

✧ Speaking of which; it’s after another casual wander through Inazuma with Ei that you head up to visit her foxy familiar. Much unlike the many times you’ve seen her here before, she’s not in front of that sacred tree; no, she’s staring off into the fenced-off pond, and she looks very far away, like her head’s not all here. Upon calling for her, she seems to come back; she finds your eyes, offers you a charming little smile, and shuffles over as if to make room for you despite her current spot already being separated from the main crowd. Internally, she’s cursing herself for how her heart beats a little harder against her ribs and how the warmth between her legs starts to spread up into her gut, twists around her rationale and puts her world in a haze. Being in the depths of a heat cycle, specifically around you, has her almost scattered; she hears all of your questions well after you ask them and she answers even more delayed than that and so maybe that’s why you’re suddenly so close, trying to get closer to her face with your expression wrought and eyes worried as you ask if she’s feeling alright.

✧ She should push you away. She should, really, because you’re so warm, and you smell so nice and sweet and you look so pretty and untouched and — no, no, she should push you away, but she can’t. She’ll hide it under some smooth, late remark — I’m feeling fine; is this just an excuse to get closer to me? — but the little voice in her head is screaming at her to grab you by the nape and drag you off to a quiet, hidden corner and wreck you because you’re hers, hers, her sweet thing, hers…

✧ You don’t look alright. Have you been sleeping enough? Oh, ever-so-innocent, ever-so-sweet you, concerned suddenly that maybe the thin mountain air has gotten her sick as you press your palm to her forehead to see and — you’re burning up, you’re actually burning up, we need…do you have medicine? I’m not sure if familiars carry medicine, but we can head down to the village…no, no, I’ll head down, you stay here and I’ll bring something back for you, or…

✧ She finally manages a no. No, she doesn’t need medicine; trying to manage to keep her voice from dropping, she gives you the simple explanation of this happens sometimes and medicine won’t do anything about it, and you’re kind of confused because does she mean her period? do fox familiars get periods? when fox familiars get periods do they suddenly burn up like they’ve got a bad fever? but then you realize fox and oh, oh, you think you get it now. It must be evident on your face; oh, you say, face going hot, oh, sorry, I…do you need anything? I can leave you alone — sorry, I didn’t know, this is probably a bad time… but she’s just looking at you, now, and you don’t quite know what to do before you feel hot fingers wrap around your wrist and nails poke your skin. She’s trying to keep up the act; are you asking to help? she manages, suave tone just slightly shaky, and you’re sort of left sitting there dealing with the moral question of whether or not fucking the Electro Archon’s familiar is something you’ll get tit-sword’d for but ultimately, looking at slightly-heaving Miko with her eyes almost glowing and her skin starting to burn yours and oh, is that a blush you’re seeing? you decide that maybe getting tit-sword’d is worth it.

For being such a smooth talker, Yae Miko is awfully messy when it comes to sex. At least, this kind of sex. The sex where she’s dragged you rather hurriedly and rather unceremoniously behind one of the buildings atop the shrine, practically shoved you up against the wooden wall and swallowed any complaints or remarks you may have had about the manner between her lips. Dominant, yes — but messy. Messy, in the way her mouth can’t seem to stay on yours and instead slips off, wets the corners of your mouth and down under your jaw when you try and fail to gasp for breath. Messy, in the way that her hands are immediately moving; one raking down your spine, the other digging into your nape, and then both to your sides, and then one up under your blouse to tear apart the buttons and get a handful of your chest. Messy, in the way that despite her heat being at its worst, especially being neglected for so long, she insists on marking you; you don’t know if the Shogun’s eyes see the shrine but oh, oh, you hope they don’t, because you’re pinned to a wall with her familiar licking and biting and sucking on the soft spots under your jaw so hard that you’re heaving and debating on whether or not it’s okay to wrap your arms behind her head and draw her deeper into you because it feels like fire, it feels like fire on your throat…

“On your knees,” she purrs shakily, breath hot on your neck. “On your knees, get on your knees…you said you’d help me, didn’t you? Be good…listen to me, listen…”

And so, you do. And, really, you shouldn’t be surprised but oh, the way she watches you drop weakly to your knees, land softly in the grass with the wooden wall burning up your back — it’s too much, it’s too much, and your eyes have gone drunken before she can even start to move her clothes, move the pretty white silk out of the way and she’s lowering herself, too, but she really doesn’t have to. She doesn’t have to, because you’re drunk on desire and maybe that’s what gives you the confidence to touch her, wrap a shaky hand around her thigh and stretch up, duck under her dress guys im so sorry it might be a kimono but i actually do not know and i dont want to use the wrong terminology and sound dumb please help and…oh, she smells so sweet, so warm and sweet and—

She swears she sees stars. The long, pitched-tailed moan she lets out is evidence of it; nails scrape along your nape as you tongue at the heat burning fiercely between her thighs, taste thick, sugared arousal on your tongue and groan as you lap for more. She gives you no instructions, no limits, and so you just go all in; you wrap an arm around her waist to steady yourself as you let go of her thigh, reach up with your now-free hand and spread slick, soaked folds apart to get on the source. Her breathing is labored; you can feel her pulse stuttering when the tip of your tongue finds her pulsing cunt, pushes in only to get tightened on. Something warm and soft brushes the hand behind her back; you’ve seen the ghost of her tail a few times but it sure as fuck feels real now, beating against her thigh as you latch onto the sweet well between her thighs and practically drink the effect of her heat as it dribbles down your chin. Heaven, you’re in heaven, and oh, archons, so is she; the wooden wall behind you groans as she shifts, assumably to rest her weight against it as her thighs steady against your head and close you off to the outside world.

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title: love letters

pairing: grayson x (first person) reader

synopsis: you and grayson used to but ended on really bad terms. you never thought you’d meet his eyes again, let alone have a conversation… and that conversation changes everything

warning:

a/n: it’s a bit rubbish… sorry… but thanks for reading :)

tag list: @tornqdowarnings @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @stqrsbythepocketful @lxvebelle @mrs-venus-beaufort @emelia07 @f4iry-bell

I slowly make my way up the grand staircase to the main hall. Fancy dinner parties had never been my scene but as required by my employer I begrudgingly accepted. In a dress I didn’t own, or even intend to own I walk to meet my host.

“So glad you could make it,” she smiles a bit too warmly for my liking.

“Thanks for inviting me,” I reply, with the sort of smile you use when you have to be polite, “where am I?”

“Just between those two ladies there,” she explains, gesturing over the the seat between one young black-haired woman dressed in silks and another older woman in a deep blue.

“Thanks,” I nod at her, giving on last polite smile before my jaw got too tired to do so.

I walk over to my seat and go to sit down when something catches my eye or rather someone. I freezes mid movement, my eyes not being able to detach from the sight in front of me. I’ve never felt such a mix of shock and horror and awe in the entirety of my short life. It can’t be… oh but it is. I’d recognise that blonde hair and tailored suit anywhere.

Grayson Hawthorne.

Never again did I think I’d lock eyes with that piercing grey and never did I think it would feel so cold. I sit down and promise myself this will be the last dinner party I ever attend. I never should have step foot out of the house. I never should have agreed to this. Too little, too late now. There’s an odd sort of comfort when he too looks just as stunned, his eyebrows raised and lips slightly parted. The lips I used to kiss.

He opens his mouth to talk but I immediately look downs, avoiding any more eye contact. Conversation between us tonight would not happen. I wouldn’t let it. Nobody has to know I know him, he doesn’t have to talk to me, we can just pretend we’re strangers.

Strangers… the word repeats in my brain around and around. isn’t that what we are now? People who don’t talk or interact or really know anything about each other. Not anymore.

***

I force my eyes not to look at him throughout the whole dinner. I don’t want to look at him, I don’t want to be lured in again because I know my rational brain will go out of the window when my heart takes over. That stupid organ has too much control.

I seek to leave as soon as I can. Immediately after the three courses are done and there’s a window of opportunity to get away I do. I didn’t want to risk bumping into a certain Hawthorne on the way out. I rush out of the doors and towards my ride home. I’m half way down the staircase when…

“Y/N.”

His voice sent a tingle town my spine still. I stop and stand. Just when I thought I could escape him. I let out a breath and turn him around, letting myself take him in properly this time. He was different than I’d remembered him… something felt off. I tilt my head to the side and take in the man before me, the man who left me, the man who broke me.

“Grayson,” I say. My voice is strong and harsh and hard. He will never know how he hurt me.

He stares. I stare. It’s like a stupid competition and yet neither of us seem to give in. I can’t read what he’s thinking or feeling in this moment, but then again I don’t want to know. I’m done with the pain and I can’t put myself through it again.

“What’s the matter with you?” Grayson asks, his tone somewhere between concern and curiosity and judgment.

“What’s the matter with me?” I scoff, my eyebrows flying to my forehead.

How dare he? How much pride do you have to have to ask a question like that? It’s a joke, some kind of stupid joke the world is playing on me. What did I do to deserve this? Why now, why tonight? Just when my life is running smoothly, things like this seem to come along.

“Why are you being so cold,” he says, his brows furrowed, as if I should be dancing around and shitting rainbows around him.

“I’m not,” I snap quickly.

“You’ve barely looked me in the eye,” he expresses, his voice too full of emotion, too unlike his usual tone.

And suddenly I’m furious, I’m blinded by a sudden surge of anger. He wants me to look him in the eye after all he’s put me through? What so he can shoot me a smile and rub salt deeper into the wound he made?

“And you expect me to?” I yell, letting my rage take hold, “After everything we went through?”

“Well I wasn’t afraid of looking into yours,” Grayson snaps back.

“Oh so now you’ve finally overcome your cowardice,” I say with a smile laced with passive aggression, shaking my head, “too little, too late.”

“I don’t understand why you’re so infuriated by my presence, if anything I should be,” he replies.

“You should be?” I scoff, “well of course you would think that, you were always so self-centred.”

“I gave up everything for you,” he yells, his eyes filled with fire.

Grayson Hawthorne has never yelled at me. Grayson Hawthorne doesn’t yell. But I don’t flinch or back down. I ignore this new version of Grayson and bury it under the version I’d forgotten.

“No you didn’t,” I scream, “you say you did but you didn’t. You loved me and loved me and then-“

I trail off, I forget what I’m going to say and fumble to find the next set of right words.

“And then what?” he asks.

“And then you left,” I laugh bitterly, “and oh you left and never said anything again. So what gives you any right to show up here now.”

I don’t know what I’m saying, I’m angry and anger is all I can see.

“I didn’t just leave,” he spits, a venomous anger on this tongue, “I sent you letter every single day for a year and you didn’t answer a single one.”

“Letters?”

My heart nearly stops. I think it actually skips a beat. My brain stops functioning for a moment and everything is blank. If he sent me letters that means everything changes, that means everything is wrong. What I think of him, how I feel towards him, my whole perception of that relationship and what happened and what didn’t.

But he couldn’t have… he wouldn’t, he didn’t want to, he shouldn’t have wanted to. I refuse to believe it. Because then that means all of those sleepless nights of sobbing, all of those times I thought I meant nothing to him, every single day I looked in the mirror and hated everything about me was for nothing.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know,” he shakes his head, running a hand through his hair, “don’t do that, it’s too cruel.”

“No Grayson,” I say, trying to not let my voice waver, staring at him intently, “what letters are you talking about?”

He’s too in shock to reply. My eyes try to find his, darting around like a mad woman’s. I find myself gripping onto his arms and clinging to them. He finally meets my eyes. The grey that was once my world of precious rare metals, then dead like the wilted flowers I wept over and now… now they’re grey like the every changing storm cloud that can’t decide whether it should rain or not.

“What letters!?” I cry, my tone still thick with desperation.

a/n: tell me why this took me like three days to write?? my motivation was nowhere… but oh well. It’s a bit short and sweet, but I hope you guys enjoyed anyway :) requests are always welcome and let me know if you want to be on the tag list 🤍🤍

credit to @cafekitsune for the divided

TIG masterlist

[forever-rogue]

As it Goes

AN | No one, absolutely no one, asked for this but my mind said yes. So here we are here - a collection of moments, or rather, how you met and fell in love with Spider-Man 🥰❤️

Pairing | tasm!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 4.2k

Masterlist | Main | Peter

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was a quiet winter evening in New York City. As quiet as it came among the traffic, sirens, and people anyway. You should have been inside, but you couldn’t find yourself able to stay in your apartment, opting instead to get some fresh air on the rooftop. You’d brought along a book, blanket, and some snacks before making your way up to the little hideaway you and a few neighbors had created. 

After you’d turned on the fairy lights and settled down, you opened your book and made it through approximately one chapter before you were interrupted; interrupted being put lightly. Out of nowhere, you heard a loud scream, followed by some sort of crash, accompanied by a few loud groans and moans. Your book had flown out of your hand at the sudden intrusion, but it quickly became the last thing on your mind as you jumped up and went to see what had happened.

The last thing you’d ever expected to see was suddenly laid out in front of you. There he was, your friendly neighborhood spiderman, lying on the rooftop of your building, clutching his side as he tried to catch his breath.

“S-spider-man?” the big white eyes of his mask met yours, and the two of you stared at each for a few long, tense moments. You weren’t quite sure what to say - did you offer him help, pretend you never saw him, or…? Instead, all rational thoughts left your mind and you laughed nervously (a wicked habit of yours), “y-you look taller on TV.”

“I…what?” the big white eyes narrowed in confusion as you mentally facepalmed yourself. 

“You just look b-bigger on TV,” you stammered, “I just…I dunno. I guess the camera really does add ten pounds?”

You were absolutely going to superglue your mouth shut…this word vomit was going to be the death of you. What you didn’t see was the giant, soft smile on the face under the mask, “I’m just a person. Is that not enough?”

“No! No, no, absolutely…I just meant…,” you waved your hands around, attempting not to insult New York’s favorite superhero, “I just…superheroes and all that…you know what? I’m just going to shut up and maybe throw myself off the building.”

“No use,” he said nonchalantly, a teasing lilt to his voice, “I’d catch you way before you could squish on the ground.”

“What if I asked you not to?”

“No can do,” he laughed before groaning again as he clutched at his side, “I can’t let just a valued citizen plunge to their death just because they’re nervous.”

“I’m not…nervous,” you squeaked softly, embarrassed by how easily he managed to call you out, “umm…are you alright? You’re hurt.”

You were at his side and on your knees without a second thought. He watched you intently, but he didn’t stop you. He picked up on how rapidly your heart was beating, and he could practically feel the adrenaline rolling off of you. You reached a shaky hand out towards him, moving his arm out of the way to assess the damage. There was a gash in the suit at his side, pale skin exposed along with a gnarly looking wound. A small sound of distress escaped your lips but he quickly sat up and shook his head in an attempt to soothe your worries, “it’s okay - you should see the other guy.”

“I’m not too concerned about the other guy right now,” you insisted, “was this from a knife?”

“It wasn’t a big knife,” he shrugged softly, amused by the intense look on your face, “it’ll be okay - I have fast regenerative skills. It’ll be healed by the morning.”

“But does it hurt now?” you sat back and plopped down on the cold ground next to him. He encountered so many strangers almost every day, but none had been like you. He could tell that your kindness and concern was genuine…something that had become a bit of rarity. Most people just wanted to spend a moment to say they met Spider-Man. You grabbed his jaw, your touch firm but gentle as you attempted to look him over as if you could see through the mask, “I could go and get some painkillers? I’ve got some strong stuff left from when I had my wisdom teeth out! Or does that…not work for you?”

“It works,” he promised quickly, trying to keep himself calm at the way your touch seemed to send electric shivers throughout his body, despite the fact that you weren’t even touching his skin, “but I’ll be okay. Promise.”

“Pinky?” you held up your pinky finger to him and he couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up. He obliged your little request as he held up his own pinky and wrapped it around yours.

“Pinky promise,” he insisted.

“Good,” you insisted, “that means you can’t ever lie to me, you know. You can’t break a pinky promise or there will be consequences - even for Spider-Man.”

“I wouldn’t want that to happen,” oh. He liked you. A lot. Probably too much for a virtual stranger he’d just met. He sat up fully, taking a moment to steady himself before rising to his feet. Okay, maybe he did look taller standing up… “you should get inside…it’s late and cold out here. Might end up meeting some weird, random, bleeding men.”

Your eyes widened for a moment before you reached over and touched his arm gently, “will I see you again?”

Your question was so shy and tentative that it almost had him whipping off the mask to kiss you right then and there. But he refrained and controlled himself. Instead, he reached over and settled his hand on your face, brushing his thumb over your cheek, “yes. Pinky promise.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Several long and painstaking weeks passed before you saw him again. Twenty-five days if you were being exact. Not that you were counting or anything. 

It happened late one night as you were leaving the bodega with a huge bagful of groceries after a long day of work at the coffee shop you managed. The big bag was stuffed to the brim and you clutched it to your chest, almost obscuring your vision as you walked to your apartment building.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary or different until you heard a soft thwip somewhere behind you….and then a soft landing of feet on concrete. And yet, still, you didn’t think anything of it. Not until - 

“Hello there!” 

“Fuck!” you almost dropped the bag in surprise at the sudden appearance of him. You stopped, set down your bag at your feet, before clutching at your chest. 

“I believe the proper response is General Kenobi,” you could practically hear the amusement in his voice as you waved him off, “but I’ll let it slide ‘cause I scared you so much.”

“Spider-Man’s a nerd,” you huffed, slowly catching your breath, “I’ll keep that in mind for the next time you appear out of nowhere and give me a heart attack.” 

“I’ll make myself louder next time,” he bent over and grabbed the bag effortlessly as you raised an eyebrow, “let me walk you home?”

“Is that part of your good Samaritan duties?” but you didn’t stop him, instead running a few steps to catch up with his long strides. You weren’t going to question how easily he remembered the building you lived in. Maybe that was all part of his Spidey powers too, “surely Spider-Man’s too busy for a peasant like myself.”

“I prefer to think of them as friendly neighborhood deeds,” he slowed his stride so you could catch up with him, “and no. There’s no other pressing matters to attend to.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence as you walked next to each other. Every once in a while, his hand would brush against yours, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he would do if you took it and held it. 

“I, umm…I missed you,” your confession, soft and ardent, was almost inaudible. But not to him; he heard it loud and clear. 

“I missed you too,” he  turned to look at you, and you had to look away, biting your lip softly, “twenty-five days was too long.”

He’d been counting too.

When you reached your building, he walked with you up the steps to the front door, and the two of you stared at each other for a few moments, you bouncing nervously on the balls of your feet, “do you wanna come inside? I…you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought that maybe…it’s silly, probably. I don’t think Spider-Man does house calls or whatever. I was just thinking that maybe we could watch a movie or something? I-I have all the streaming stuff a-and all the Star Wars movies. I’m making a fool of myself again, please just put me out of my misery and toss me down the stairs.”

“Nope,” he pronounced happily as you groaned, “I think it’s cute-”

“End me now-”

“And I’d love to watch a movie,” he insisted, “whatever suits your fancy.” 

“Really?” you’d hidden your face in your hands but tentatively allowed yourself a peek at him

“Really.”

“You’re carrying the groceries upstairs.”

“I’m sure there’s an elevator.”

“It’s out of service at the moment.”

He groaned dramatically, as you beamed at him; both of you were aware of the fact that it would be an easy endeavor for him. You opened the door and led the way, Spider-Man following closely behind.

What a strange day it had suddenly turned into. Not that you were complaining, of course.

And neither was he.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

He ended up occupying way more of your thoughts than should have been legal. It was a good thing that people couldn’t read minds, or surely you’d be thrown straight into the loony bin for the constant string of thoughts. 

Spider-Man, whose real name you still did not know, had become somewhat of a chaotic constant in your life. He made an appearance as often as he could; sometimes tapping away at your window late at night, finding you as you left work, popping up as you went about the city. You wondered if this was the sort of….bond was something he had with a lot of people. You felt a pang of jealousy in your stomach as you realized just how strong your feelings were growing. 

You were getting to know him, as much as he would divulge anyway; he always made sure to keep just a little bit of distance between the two of you. Safer, he insisted, if you didn’t fully know who he was. You still couldn’t help but want the rest of it, the rest of him. You just weren’t able to tell him that. 

“That sauce smells delicious,” he’d slid in through your open window and made himself at home as you worked in the kitchen. He padded towards you and leaned against the counter, “let me guess, an old world family recipe that’s been secretly handed down for generations?”

“You have such faith in me, Spidey,” you were grinning; it was easy to do that around him, “but, alas, this is a recipe I found on Pinterest. Hopefully it’ll still be decent.”

“It will,” you liked the warmth he brought in your apartment, “my spidey senses can feel it.”

“I know you can’t eat with me…” you gestured to the mask, “but I could pack you some to take with you? Or…we could sit back to back or in the dark? I-I promise I won’t look. I just think it’d be nice, ya know?”

He hesitated for a moment as you tried to hide the way your face fell. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to - fuck, he wanted to. And he trusted you, almost more than anything or anyone else. The main thing was that he wanted to keep you safe…and he was convinced that one would lead to another and you’d be in danger. He wouldn't - couldn’t - do that. 

“I’d like that,” he agreed and that breathtaking smile was back on your face, “back to back, maybe. I trust you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he promised softly. You turned back to finishing the sauce and adding pasta to the boiling water. He watched you for a moment, his limbs and every part of his body filled with affection. It was then that he knew what he wanted, nay needed to do, “my name is Peter.”

Your eyes flicked to his immediately, and you liked to think that he was looking back at you just the same way. A smile tugged up the corners of your mouth, “Peter.”

“Peter Parker,” he didn’t hesitate and that made both of you realize that something had shifted. 

“Peter Parker,” you repeated softly, and he decided that there was no sweeter sound, “it’s nice to meet you.” 

“The pleasure is all mine, honey.”

You'd fallen in love with him. You didn't even know what he looked like. And yet he was the man that easy and effortlessly made his place in your heart.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Things changed after that night; slowly the little bit of remaining layers of mystery between the two of you dissolved. At first Peter had been nervous, wondering at every step of the way if he should be doing this. But he knew he wanted this - wanted you - and although there was always a bit of worry and fear in his heart, he knew he couldn’t let it control the rest of his life. He was allowed to be happy, to want good things for himself, to want to love you and let himself be loved by you.

Slowly he stopped being Spider-Man and started becoming Peter to you. 

It happened one night as you fell asleep on the couch next to him, your head resting on his chest. His arm was around your shoulder and he started paying more attention to you than the movie that was playing in the background. He’d picked the movie, but couldn’t care less about that now. 

“I can feel you staring,” you whispered softly which brought an instant smile to his face, “Pete.”

“You’re really pretty,” he whispered, anything remaining caution thrown out the window, “really, really pretty.”

“I bet you are too,” you mumbled, already sinking back into sleep, “maybe one day I can see.”

Yeah. He hoped so too.

“Can I kiss you?” he couldn’t help himself; he had to know how soft your plush lips were, how they felt against his. He could see you squeezing your eyes shut tighter, and he appreciated the effort, “please?”

“Mhmm,” you nodded lightly. You were always precious to him, cute and funny beyond what he believed should be legally allowed, but there was something about your sleepy form cuddled into him that made him feel some type of way, “eyes are tightly shut, Pete.”

He hesitated for a moment before he pulled up the mask, revealing the lower half of his face. He shuffled you around slightly so he could tilt his face down and capture yours in a soft kiss. At first you were sure you were dreaming, but when you felt him stop, sigh softly, before he kissed you again. There was a soft smile on your face as you felt him brush his thumb along your lower lip. With a bit of reluctance, he pulled the mask back down. 

You yawned softly before deciding to just listen to your heart for once instead of the chaos of your brain, and crawled into his lap, resting against his chest and burying your face into his neck. You could feel him stiffen for a moment before he laid his hand on top of yours, his arms tightened their hold you.

“I hope you kiss me again, Pete,” you whispered sleepily, causing his heart to beat so fast that he was surprised it didn’t burst through his ribcage, “‘s nice.”

“I will,” he promised, already addicted to how you felt and tasted, “pinky promise.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was late night at night and you were fast asleep, tucked under the covers and snoring softly. Peter almost felt bad about waking you up, but he was hurting…badly. He knew realistically that he didn’t need your assistance, that his wounds would ache but heal on their own. But he also knew that he needed you. As soon as he’d been injured all he could think about was crawling home to you. 

He tapped the window gently, almost as if he didn’t really want you to wake up. He could just stay on your fire escape and wait it all out, but then he ran the risk of someone seeing him and tying the two of you together. But you deserved to rest and -

“Pete?” your eyes were bleary as you blinked at him. He tilted his head to the side and you knew that under the mask there was an apologetic smile on his face. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, and looked at him again; that’s when you noticed the rips in his suit across his abdomen and chest, “Peter.”

You threw open the window, suddenly wide awake as you took his hand and pulled him inside as delicately as you could. He grimaced slightly as his feet hit the ground, “I didn’t want to wake you up, I’m sorry.”

“You’re hurt,” it came out like a pathetic whimper as you dragged him to the bathroom. You kept a well stocked first aid in there these days; luckily this was the first time you’d had to use it. You pointed to the edge, motioning for him to sit. He knew better than to argue with you and complied, sighing lightly, “you poor thing. I…let me take care of you.”

“You don’t have to,” he insisted meekly, but you weren’t about to listen to him, having instead grabbed a clean rag and antiseptic to clean the gashes that looked red and angry, “I jus’ wanted to see you.”

“Pete,” your voice cracked as you refused to look at his face. You didn’t want him to see that you were actually tearing up. The idea that something could have happened to him made your insides churn. You couldn’t imagine a life without Peter, and while you knew that being Spider-Man was dangerous at times, you detested the idea that something worse could happen to him. But in the moment you didn’t want him to see you have a breakdown so you did what you always did when you grew nervous - you rambled, “y-you inspired me, you know.”

“I did?” there was nothing but affection and fondness in his tone, “how so?”

“By being Spider-Man,” you slowly started to wrap one of the gashes, “y-you always help others, so I wanted to do the same. And I can’t be a superhero so I did what I could think of - I signed up to volunteer at the FEAST center. I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”

“Yes,” he was already in love with you, he knew that much, but he was pretty sure he’d just fallen harder. Of course he knew FEAST; his aunt May was one of the main people behind the center. Peter often volunteered there too when time allowed, “that’s…wonderful and kind of you. They could always use more help.”

“Mhmm,” you dabbed some ointment onto one of the other gashes, “I talked to this super nice woman, May, there and she got me all set. They all seemed super nice there; said her nephew and his friends volunteered there too.”

“I think that’s wonderful of you,” he could hear you sniffle, and caught your hand and stopped what you were doing. You made a small sound of surprise as he turned your face up to his; you knew that he would see the tears that had rolled down your cheeks, “what’s wrong, honey?”

“I just…I just don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you, Peter,” you almost felt pathetic, but it was the truth. You both knew that much, “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Nothing will happen,” he promised softly, wiping away the tears that had rolled down your cheeks, “I swear it. I’ll always drag myself back to you.”

“Promise?” you asked and he nodded, already ahead of you as he held up his hand, pinky outstretched.

“Pinky,” he whispered, “and you can’t break a pinky promise.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It had been almost four days since you’d seen Peter. If you were being totally honest, it fucking sucked. He’d become such a constant presence in your day-to-day life that it was painstakingly obvious when he wasn’t there. And it wasn’t like you could just call or text him; there was still that little bit of barrier left and sometimes you wondered where your relationship with him was headed. But you loved him, and he loved you, the rest would work itself out. 

And to his credit, Peter did say that he had to go out of town for a bit. You just weren’t sure how long that bit was. But…Peter hadn’t been totally honest. He’d actually been there, home in Queens, trying to figure out how he was going to introduce himself to you. As Peter, not Spider-Man or anything else. Maybe it was risky, involving you in every aspect of his life, but he didn’t care. He needed you like he needed air; he knew that fear couldn’t control him forever. Needless to say, he’d been having a mental breakdown figuring this all out. 

But that didn’t take away the fact that you missed him terribly. On top of that the coffee shop was incredibly slow today and that allowed your mind to wander. All back to him of course. You tried to busy yourself with scrubbing every bit of the counter in order to provide some relief from your incessant thoughts. You were almost annoyed when you heard someone approach the counter and clear their throat.

“Hi,” the pretty boy, the handsome man, across the counter looked at you with a smile that made your knees weak. You hadn’t seen him before - not like this - but you knew who he was immediately. Part of you wanted to jump over the counter to tackle him and shower him with affection, but the other part of you was nervous. This would change everything, a little fact that you were both well aware of.

“Peter,” you breathed out his name and he was sure that he’d never heard anything sweeter. He could only hope that the rest of his days were filled with getting to hear his name drip like golden honey from your lips, “it’s you.”

“It’s me,” he confirmed, an anxious little smile tugging up the corners of his mouth. It seemed like things suddenly slowed down and it was only the two of you. It felt like it was one of those cheesy rom-coms that you secretly loved so much. You stopped what you were doing, tossed the rag behind you before running around the counter and jumping into his arms. Peter was so in tune with you, that he knew what was happening before it manifested, and he easily caught you in his arms as he spun you around. 

“Peter,” you looked at him for a moment before you kissed him. It wasn’t so much a proper kiss as it was you crashing your lips onto his, messy but saccharine, both of you needing to finally feel each other like this. When you pulled back, you were both grinning at each other like lovesick fools. He set you down, beaming at you before taking your face in his large hands and kissing you softly. You could get lost in him so easily, and you were definitely ready for a lifetime of his kisses. 

Reality - the fact that you were in the middle of the coffee shop, during the tailed of your shift - set in when the few customers inside started to clap and cheer for the two of you. Your face warmed up and Peter’s cheeks turned a pretty shade of pastel pink as you looked at each other shyly.

“Can I take you out?” he asked breathlessly as you nodded before he even finished the question, “tonight?”

“Yes,” you whispered softly, “please. I’ve got about fifteen minutes left, so I’ll just clean up real quick and then we can go.”

“Sounds perfect,” he nodded and you turned to go behind the counter, but he quickly stopped you, long, slender fingers wrapping around your wrist. He pulled you back to him and kissed you again, practically stealing the breath from your lungs and every coherent thought that remained. He gave you a shy smile, “sorry, honey, I had to.”

“Don’t ever stop, Peter.”

“I don’t plan on it.”