#I'm so fucking scared of reaching out i NEED someone to come to me WANTING to help BUT HOW DO I FIND THAT

[nexus-nebulae]

man what the hell are you supposed to do when you've been traumatized by rejection enough that you assume you're going to be rejected in every scenario possible so you just don't bother doing anything because it always goes wrong

[triptuckers]

dawn - percy jackson

Request: nope Pairing:  percy jackson x child of apollo!reader Summary:  percy wakes early because of a nightmare and you're not next to him Warnings:  swearing, mentions of nightmares, percy being scared :( Word count:  900 A/N: SHIFTING INTO PERCY JACKSON MODE AGAIN !!! I cannot wait for the show !!! also this is based on a head canon I saw once and now it's my favorite, enjoy!

percy hears you scream again. he needs to find you now.

he's been running for too long now, you've been screaming for too long. he could tell from your screams you had gone from scared to absolutely terrified.

and he knows you've been through as much as he has. it took a lot to make you scared. and something has made you terrified.

percy runs around the corner, gripping his sword tight. up ahead he can see a shadow. that must be you.

he takes off running again but as he gets closer to the shadow, it's not you. it's someone - or something - that is holding two very long, very sharp swords.

percy turns around and bolts through a door. you scream again. and again. he can't get to you. gods, he's going to lose you.

with a start, percy's eyes fly open.

he's breathing heavily and his hands are gripping the bedsheets. percy's chest rises and falls rapidly as he tries to calm himself. he reaches out to you, but you're not next to him.

what if it wasn't a nightmare? fuck.

he pushes himself up with one elbow and notices the door to his cabin is slightly open. he can see you sitting just outside.

percy closes his eyes and lets himself fall back onto his pillow. he frowns when they're damp. great, he was sweating. that means it was a really bad one.

'shit.' he sighs, dragging a hand over his face. there's no way he's getting any sleep now. at least not with the adrenaline still coursing through his veins.

he can tell it's very early in the morning. the sun is starting to rise, but it's still pretty dark outside. percy looks over to you again and notices a mug in your hands, steam rising from it.

after the nightmare he had, he just needs you close. so he gets up and puts on a sweater and boots before joining you outside.

you look up when you hear footsteps on the wooden floor.

'hi. did I wake you?' you say, reaching for percy and pulling him down to squeeze into the chair next to you, careful not to spill your drink.

'no.' his answer is short.

'nightmare?' you ask, noticing the collar of his shirt that sticks to his sweaty neck.

'yeah.' he moves to get closer to you, needing to be near you.

'want to talk about it?' you say, lazily running your fingers through his hair near the back of his neck.

percy sighs softly. 'lately it's the same one.' he says. 'you're somewhere, I don't know where, I can't see you. but I can hear you. you're screaming for help, for me to come get you out of wherever you are. but there's this big guy chasing me and I can never get to you in time.'

he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to drown the image out.

'it's okay.' you say. 'I'm here now.'

'I know you are. you think I can ask any of the gods if they can stop the nightmares?'

you chuckle softly. 'it's worth a shot.'

'hey, wait. why weren't you next to me when I woke up?' he says, remembering the moment the nightmare shook him awake.

he turns slightly so he can look you in the eye, brows slightly furrowed. 'do you still have nightmares?'

'sometimes.'

'but they didn't wake you tonight?'

'no.'

'wait, so you willingly got up at the ass crack of dawn?'

you smile. 'also no.'

'you're usually up early, though. even on quests when you're exhausted but we need to go on, you're always the first one awake. perks of being apollo's kid?'

this time you laugh softly. 'no, more like downside of being his kid.'

percy frowns again. 'what are you talking about?"

'well, everyone wakes at dawn. look, will's awake as well.' you say, pointing to your cabin in the distance. 'michael is just coming back from getting his coffee. I saw lee as well.'

percy still looks confused. you're tempted to give him some weird reason and have him figure out I fit's real or not. but he might not even believe the truth.

'you know how apollo uses his chariot to ride across the sky to give us the sunrise, right?' you say.

'yeah, you told me about that.' says percy.

'well, when he does that he blasts heavy metal at a frequency only apollo kids can hear. so we can see him in the sky in all his glory.'

'seriously?'

'his words, not mine.'

percy laughs. 'that does sound like apollo, yes.'

'it's nice, tough. waking up before everyone else does. especially the younger kids.'

'hey, next time, wake me up okay?'

'I prefer to let you sleep. that's why I always get up quietly.'

'I know, and I appreciate it. but this is nice, just us.'

'us and all of my cabin.'

'well, yeah, but you're the only apollo kid sleeping in my cabin.' says percy, nudging your shoulder an smiling.

'and it better stay that way.' you say, smiling as well. 'I call dips on the shower.'

you lean in to kiss his cheek and get up, letting percy enjoy the rest of the sunrise on his own.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

[sceletaflores]

it’s the easiest thing (just love me and eat me)

pair: logan howlett x mutant!fem!reader

wc: 6.1k

anon says: nat pls speak on sub!logan...people are hating on the sub!logan agenda and someone needs to show them that they're wrong and it can be done cuz if anyone can convince them it's you mommy!

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, crimson! again! she's back!, slight angst, swearing, violence, light gore, somewhat dark content, religious symbolism? (idk this one got weird babes), established relationship, lowkey a toxic relationship but you didn't hear that from me, sub!logan-ish, handjob, p in v, slow sex turned rough, unprotected sex, riding, creampie, pain kink, scent kink, blood play, blood...eating (drinking? idk), porn with a tiny bit of plot, no use of y/n.

author’s note: anon i'm so sorry this took me so long...i hope it was worth the wait! it started as a short smutty drabble that somehow turned into…this? idk it got out of hand so fast. i am a proud member of the sub!logan nation but that's mostly because i think that ALL men have the potential for sub vibes like doesn't matter who he is if i want to fuck him he's probably a little subby. special shout out to my baby boo and fellow sub!logan truther @avocado-writing <3 tysm for sharing anon! xoxo mwah.

dividers by icon @saradika-graphics!

psst! want more logan and crimson? here's the to the bone au masterlist!

it’s not often that logan needs this, but you’re always more than happy to give it to him when he does…

The team had a big scare earlier in the day.

It was supposed to be an easy mission, bust a mutant trafficking ring in Albany. You do assignments like these every week, and as sick as it sounds, it’s almost routine.

But this one was different. It was an ambush, and you were compromised.

Only humans, but they were smart. Waited until the team split up to attack. They had tech, things you'd never seen before.

Big guns loaded with tiny darts full of an ominous red liquid.

It was your fault really. You didn't clear your surroundings, so focused on getting to the kids that you let yourself get sloppy.

The tiny sting in your back barely registered, you don't think you would have even noticed if it didn't kick in so fast.

You'd never felt anything like it before in your life.

It didn't hurt. The rush of pain you braced yourself for never coming.

The sensation was strange—like your body was shutting down, piece by piece. You fell to your knees, shaky legs folding under you in less than a second.

You felt empty, wrong. An eerie silence trickling in to fill your insides.

Panic bubbled beneath your skin, but you were too numb to feel it. Trapped in the mounting weight of your limbs, the slow blink of your eyes, the shortness of breath despite hardly moving.

Your hand slipped across the gritty cement, reaching for support that wasn't there.

That was when you saw it, the shock of it was enough for your heart to drop. Your skin, blanched and sallow, the veins in your arms black and spreading like spilled ink.

You tried to fight it, tried to will your body to move, to react, to do something. You had to get up. You had to. The kids.

As hard as you willed yourself, there was nothing. It was like your body wasn't your own, like it had become something completely foreign.

You could barely make out the tiny voices calling for you. Pleading, frantic yelps of your name fading into a dull hum as everything went hazy. The edges of your vision blurring into a narrow tunnel.

He stepped in front of you, the same one who shot you. A cynical grin on his face and collar in his hand. You'd seen collars like it before, used on mutants to muzzle their abilities, to weaken them.

You tried, fingers barely twitching by your. Nothing. Just another shock of that cold, unfamiliar feeling shooting through your body.

“Got a big one, boss.” The man boasted into a comm strapped to his wrist, his voice sharp and grating. He took a single step towards you, smug grin still stretched across his face. “Yeah, real nice lookin' one too. She'll sell for—“

A muddy roar pulsed through the molasses filled haze of your ears, six claws flying through the air to embed themselves on either side of the man's skull with a wet, stomach-churning sound.

The collar dropped from his slackened grip with a dull bang, shattering into different pieces that slid across the floor haphazardly. A mess of wires and metal.

There were rushed footsteps before he dropped to his knees in front of you, his torso bathed in a dull glow from the overhead lights yellow shine.

There was blood splattered across the side of his face, slicking the front of his suit enough to reflect light off the leather.

Logan, perched in front of you like an angel.

Not one with a golden halo and a harp, but a indescribable mess of eyes and wings looming over you calling 'be not afraid'.

You'd never seen him so shaken before. All wide-eyed and pale as he checked you over for any major injuries. His breath coming in short bursts, hands frantic and shaky as they skated along your body for the viscosity of blood or uneven shift of a break.

He refused to let you even try and walk on your own, swept you off the floor and cradled your trembling body to his chest as he called for help. The beat of his heart was fast beneath your cheek, strong enough that you could feel it even through the thick leather of his suit.

You buried your face deeper in the crook of his neck, the pit in your stomach barely warmed by the feel of him. His scent is strongest there, so much so that in a room full of spilled blood, you could only smell him.

He was careless stepping over clawed up bodies littering the floor like a messy maze of twitching limbs and entrails. You didn't even know there was more than one guard in the room.

The evidence of his love for you, of his devotion, oozing red on the concrete.

Logan didn't even give the carnage a sideways glance as he raced you outside, back to the jet.

Trusting Scott and Jean to take over getting the kids out. The unsteady murmurs he pressed to the top of your head the last thing you heard before there was nothing.

You woke up six hours later.

The sterile hum of medical equipment was the first thing you heard. The sharp scent of antiseptic filled your nostrils, and the faint pressure of a needle in your arm confirmed that you were hooked up to an IV. 

Your muscles felt heavy, like someone had filled them with lead. But you were alive.

You could feel your body working overtime, fixing itself. The sickening shift of your insides falling back into place. 

It took a few more moments for you to realize you weren’t alone.

A low, familiar rumble caught your attention. You turned your head to see Logan slumped in a chair by the bedside, his face buried in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. His hair was mussed, his usually sharp features softened by exhaustion. 

He looked different, smaller, as though the weight of what happened was pressing down on him, making him fold in on himself.

You’d seen him bloody, beaten, on the verge of death, but you’d never seen him like this–completely and utterly human.

Your throat was too dry to speak, but a small sound escaped you, and Logan's head snapped up. His eyes met yours, and in a heartbeat, he was at your side, his large hands hovering over you, unsure where to touch, like he was afraid you’d shatter under his fingers.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, more to himself than to you. His voice was hoarse, cracked with a mixture of relief and something else, something deeper. His eyes darted over your face, your arms, as if memorizing every detail just to make sure you were real.

“I'm sorry,” you managed, your voice barely more than a rasp.

Logan's eyebrows furrowed, the lines in his forehead deepening. "What the hell are you apologizing for?" His voice was gruff, but there was a tenderness beneath it. A gentleness he only reserved for you.

Your lips cracked into a weak smile. "It was my fault. I messed up."

A growl rumbled low in his chest, and you could feel the anger simmering just beneath his skin, not at you but at the situation, at whoever had dared to hurt you.

“Don’t,” he said, voice like gravel. “Don't start, none of this is on you.” His voice softened slightly as he leaned closer, the warmth of his presence enveloping you. “What matters is you’re here.”

The reassurance wrapped around you like a warm blanket, grounding you.

Logan’s thumb traced the line of your jaw, his touch sending a spark of warmth through your veins. “When I saw you on the floor like that…I thought—” He shook his head, jaw clenched as he forced himself to meet your gaze again. “I thought I lost you.”

Your fingers twitched slightly, managing to catch his wrist, squeezing it with what little strength you had. “I’m right here,” you said softly, voice clearer than before. “I’m okay.”

Logan’s gaze softened again as he looked down at your hand, his rough exterior cracking just a little more. He gently pried your fingers from his wrist and pressed your hand to his chest, right over his heart. “You scared the hell outta me, you know that?”

You tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a breathless huff. “Didn’t mean to.”

He shook his head, but there was a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You never do.”

You were fine an hour later. 

The color of your skin had returned, glossy and like new. The hollow emptiness inside of you long gone. Your abilities passed every test Charles threw your way with flying colors.

Fully recovered and finally excused from the med-bay after Hank and Jean checked you over one last time, you were given your strict marching orders in the form of extra fluids and bed rest, no matter how much you argued that you were fine.

Your health was the last thing on your mind, just a distant phantom ache each time your eyes would find Logan.

He was still shaken up, even after all the reassurance from Charles and Hank. He kept close the rest of the day, hovering, his presence more protective than usual, but he didn’t talk much.

You could see it in the way he moved, slower, less sure, like he was carrying around something too heavy to shake off. It lingered in the tight set of his jaw, the way his hands flexed as though still looking for something to fight, to protect you from.

It wasn’t hard to guess what it was. 

You hated seeing him like this, burdened by a guilt he didn’t deserve. 

It gnawed at you, that heaviness. The way he started to shut down, to close himself off in the face of fear. It was the only way he knew how to cope.

After seeing him like that, bed rest was the last thing on your mind.

You knew Logan. Knew what he needed when his thoughts got tangled up like this, dragging him under. He wasn't the type to sit and talk through it, not easily anyway. 

And even though you know he’d never ask for it himself, you knew what he needed—to be reminded, physically, that you were still here, still his.

Later that night, when the mansion had quieted and the others were tucked away in their rooms, you found him exactly where you thought you’d find him—in the room you shared, sitting on the edge of the bed. The yellow light from the bedside lamp cast soft shadows across his face, the tension in his jaw still there.

A frown tugged the corners of your mouth as you moved towards him, catching his attention with the rustle of the sheets as you sat next to him.

“Logan,” you say softly, breaking the stillness. He doesn't respond, only the slightest twitch in his shoulders indicating he even heard you. “Hey,” you try again, your voice a little firmer this time.

He turns his head just enough for you to catch the edge of his profile, the crease between his brows, weariness etched into his features.

But he still doesn't speak.

You shift, moving closer until your fingers brush his arm, the heat of his skin radiating through the fabric of his shirt. “Look at me,” you whisper, and finally, his gaze lifts to meet yours, guarded and pained. “I’m fine. I’m right here.”

Logan shakes his head, bringing a hand up to run it through his already messy hair. “You could’ve died,” he bites out, tone rough and low. “We should've never fuckin' split up. I should’ve been there faster, sooner. I should’ve��”

“Logan.” Your voice cut through his, sharper than you meant it to. You catch his hand in yours, thumb brushing against the pulse point of his wrist. “You saved me, I’m not going anywhere. I need you to hear that.”

He meets your gaze then, eyes dark with something vulnerable, something raw. He nods weakly, like he only half-believes it. You can still see the hesitation swirling through his eyes, the reluctance in the stiffness of his muscles against yours.

He needs something more than words, something to bring him back to you.

With that, you move to straddle his lap, your knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his thighs. His body stiffens under yours, his breath hitching slightly as his hands fall to your waist almost instinctively.

“Hold on,” Logan starts, tone hesitant and hands light as they hover over your hips like he’s still scared to touch you. “You heard what Hank said–”

“I’m fine,” you repeat, finality lacing your tone and leaving no room for argument. You reach down, taking his hand in yours and bringing it up to press flat directly over your heart. The very same way he did your first night together. "Can you feel me?”

The question hangs between you, soft but weighted with purpose.

Logan’s breath catches in his throat, fingers splaying wider across your chest. The heat of his palm sinks through to your skin, lighting a fire in you. 

The steady beat of your heart under his touch is an undeniable reminder–alive, strong, with him. You can feel him relax, just a touch.

The tension in his muscles breaking down beneath you piece by piece as the rhythm grounds him, helps to pull him out of his spiral.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, barely audible. His eyes drop to where his hand rests, his thumb absently grazing the space just above your sternum. “I feel you.”

“Then trust it,” you murmur. “Trust me.”

A deep, slow breath escapes him, and something in his eyes softens just enough. You lean closer, your fingers trailing up his arms, over his shoulders, until they thread into the hair at the nape of his neck. 

You smile softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. He sighs deeply, leaning into your touch like a dog starved of attention from its master. His grip on your waist finally tightens, fingers pressing into your skin just enough to feel that edge of need—the need to let go.

“You’ve been taking care of me all day,” you murmur, scratching your nails along his scalp softly. “Now let me take care of you.”

You feel him shudder, a weak groan escaping from his slack lips. His hazy eyes search your face, pupils blown out and seeping into the warm hazel color like an oil spill over a lake.

You tilt your head, lips grazing the stubble on his jawline, moving slowly, deliberately, until you can capture his mouth in a kiss.

It’s soft at first, gentle, but you feel him melt into it, the sharp edge of his restraint crumbling as he kisses you back with a kind of hunger that fuels you.

Logan’s hands slide up your back, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt as you take control, deepening the kiss, coaxing him further into the moment.

His mouth is warm and wet and urgent against yours, the scrape of his teeth along your bottom lip sends a thrill down your spine. 

His lips move over yours with a reverence that makes your chest tighten, as if each slick glide of your lips together is an apology, a promise, and a plea all rolled into one.

But you don’t want his apologies. You want his surrender.

His breath stutters in his chest when your fingers twist in his hair, tugging just enough to remind him who’s in charge tonight.

When your hand finds his chest, pushing him down gently, he goes without protest. His eyes never leave yours as he settles against the pillows, following your every movement as you crawl closer.

Climbing over him to perch on top of his thighs, you waste no time in reaching for the hem of his shirt, gently tugging on it in a silent question. Logan’s breath comes in shallow puffs as he nods, fingers twitching on your hips. 

You can feel the way his chest rises and falls under the tips of your fingers, the sharp intake of air when your hands ghost across the skin of his lower stomach as you lift his shirt up and over his head.

You toss it over your shoulder carelessly, it lands with a muted thump somewhere behind you, leaving his chest bare. His muscles taut and rippling as he forces himself to stay still, the dim light plays across his skin, highlighting the contours along his torso.

You take a moment to just admire him, trailing your fingers along the familiar planes of his skin. Your touch is feather light, tracing over the spots that should be littered in scars. 

The place in his shoulder where he got shot two weeks back, or where the loose shrapnel that embedded itself in his side on the last mission should be, or the skin where his shoulder meets his neck after you dug your teeth into it hard enough to bleed a few nights ago.

The way his body responds to you makes your pulse quicken—the way he finally relaxes completely under your touch, melting into the mattress. 

You continue your path down, fingers slipping through the ridges of his abs, scratching your nails through the dark hair that disappears into the waistband of his bottoms teasingly. The muscles of his stomach jump under your touch, the power of his need thrumming beneath your touch.

You drag your hand over the hard length of him, his cock thick and hot as it twitches beneath your fingers. There’s a sharp hiss bleeding through grit teeth as his hips twitch up off the mattress ever so slightly.

You lean forward, hiding a small smirk in the crook of his neck. “Logan,” you whisper, voice dripping with intent, “I want you to beg for it.”

A deep, guttural growl rumbles through his chest. It shakes your body like thunder, finding a home between your thighs. Logan’s head falls back against the pillows, exposing the tan column of his throat to your hungry gaze.

It’s almost immediate, your reaction, your bodies reaction. The pulse of your blood starts to simmer with that telltale heat, slowly bubbling beneath your skin in anticipation.

Your gaze traces along where the vein of his jugular presses against his skin enticingly, barely suppressing a full body shiver at the sight.

You slip your index and middle finger beneath his waistband, brushing against his hard cock with barely any pressure. His hips buck up again, seeking more friction, but you pull back slightly, making him chase it.

“I said beg, Logan,” you murmur, your voice low, teasing, a sharp edge to it now. Your free hand comes up, gripping his jaw tightly, forcing him to look at you.

His eyes, dark and blown wide with lust, meet yours, and you can see the war raging inside him—the urge to dominate, to take control—but then he’s giving in to you, surrendering so beautifully.

“Goddamn,” he rasps quietly, his voice rough, broken. It’s barely a word, more of a growl torn from his throat. He bites it out, quiet and foreign sounding coming from his tongue. “Please, I need—”

“Good boy,” you purr, and finally, drag the soaked fabric of his bottoms down. His cock springs free, slapping against his stomach lewdly.

You moan softly, deftly wrapping your fist around him loosely. Logan groans, you swear you can hear his teeth grind together at the first feeling of your touch where he wants it most.

He’s scalding to the touch, velvety skin throbbing in time with his heartbeat. Rock-hard and flushed an angry red, darkening even more the closer you get to the tip.

You keep the pace of your strokes tortuously slow, letting him feel every movement, teasing him. It’s addictive, watching the way he starts to unravel beneath you at the slightest touch.

His legs kick out against the mattress minutely, hands falling from your hips to grip the sheets as hard as he can in a failing attempt to calm himself.

You lean down, slick lips brushing against his as you speak, your voice soft but commanding. “You’re going to let me do whatever I want to you tonight, aren't you?”

Logan nods, his breath coming in quick pants, his sweaty chest rising and falling rapidly. “Yes,” he chokes out, eyes brimming with need. “Fuck, do whatever you want, baby. I’m yours.”

The usual dominance he carries like a second skin has been peeled away, leaving him vulnerable, laid out beneath you, at your mercy.

Your hand speeds up, grip tightening as you twist your wrist over his leaking tip. Your knuckles shine with pre-come, slick from the gratuitous amount of wetness steadily drooling out.

“You’re being so good for me, Logan,” you whisper, your voice soft and laced with praise. “So good, letting me take care of you like this.”

His response is a loud moan, his hips arching up off the bed, but you’re quick to press them down with your free arm, your thighs tightening around him.

“Not yet,” you warn, strength on display as you stop his movements. “You’ll come when I say.”

A strangled sound escapes him, somewhere between a growl and a whimper, and it sends a thrill through you. He’s right there, teetering on the edge, but he’s holding on—for you.

“Poor thing,” you mumble, idly pressing your thumb into his slit, gathering the precome there to spread it along the flushed crown. “So hard, so needy for me.”

“Jesus, fuck,” Logan whines, his head tipping back against the pillows a second times, eyes squeezing shut tighten enough to wrinkle the skin around them.

You smile, your nails digging into his chest as you shift, positioning yourself above him. The heat between your legs is unbearable now, slick all along your inner thighs as it pools from your aching cunt, drenching the soft cotton of your panties.

So desperate to be stretched around Logan’s cock, to be filled the only way he can. You roll your hips forward, the hard jut of his cock sliding through the sticky mess of your panties.

“Shit, baby,” he groans, loud and hoarse. “Fuck, give it to me, I’m ready–”

You press your finger to his lips, silencing him as you hover over him. “Not yet,” you whisper, a wicked grin on your face as you slide your panties to the side and take him in your hand, letting the tip brush against your soaked entrance, still not giving him what he craves.

Your own patience is starting to run thin, but the sound of his begging is too good.

“Tell me how bad you want it,” you say, your voice sharp and commanding as you rub the tip of him along your cunt, teasing. “Tell me what you need.”

He’s trembling beneath you, a soft whimper leaving his lips as you sink down slightly, barely letting him inside. "Please, darlin'," he groans, voice rough with need. "I need to feel you—need you so fuckin’ bad."

You finally give in, sinking down onto him in one slow, deliberate motion.

His body jerks beneath you, a choked growl spilling from his lips as you take him in, inch by inch. You don’t stop until he’s buried deep inside you, your walls clenching around him as you settle into his lap.

The feeling is overwhelming, the stretch, the heat, the way he fills you completely.

You both groan at the same time, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you roll your hips, savoring the way he pulses inside you, how his entire body reacts to every little movement.

“God, you’re so big,” you whisper, your voice heavy with lust as you look down at where your bodies meet. “You gonna be a good boy and let me ride you?”

“Fuck,” he grits, voice like gravel crunching underfoot.

His hands slide up your back, desperate and needy as they cradle the back of your head softly. “I’d kill them all,” he pants, lips messily searching for your own, desperate for more frantic kisses. “Fuckin’ all of them, all for you.”

You moan loud and unabashed, eyes screwing shut as your nails rake down his chest hard enough to break the skin. The smell of his blood breaks through the air, heady and sharp. He throws his head back, a broken gasp dragged out of him as his hips speed up.

You think back to the room in the warehouse, the floor slick with stray remains and viscera. Think back to him lifting you to his chest, of the blood spattered across his suit and face slipping against your own clammy skin.

Flashes of Logan running to you like a loyal livestock dog, covered in the blood of any wolf that dares attack his precious sheep. Staining the white of your wool red with the righteous wrath of his sacrifice. 

You roll your hips faster, bouncing with enough force to have you crying out. The tight suction of your walls pulling him as deep as he can get at this angle.

The coarse hair along his stomach drags against your throbbing clit, making white hot sparks of pleasure zing up your spine to light up each vertebrae. 

Logan presses his forehead to your chest, hot breath puffing out over your sweaty neck. You tilt your head to the side almost subconsciously, bearing more of yourself to him.

“Can’t hold back much longer,” he admits weakly, blunt nails digging into your skin sharp enough to sting. “Feels so good, so fuckin' good."

He trails off, face pinched with ecstasy as he gazes up at you. You smile, rolling your hips slowly, tiny figure eights that let you feel every inch of him pressing against your walls.

“You're not supposed to hold back," you whisper, your voice thick with need as you lean down, kissing along his jawline. "I want you to let go, Logan."

His eyes snap open, the hazel gone wild and desperate, and it’s like you can see the exact moment he breaks. The tiniest shred of self control finally crumbling under the weight of his instincts. With a low, feral growl, he surges up.

You’re on your back quicker than you can blink, stomach surging with it. You hardly have any time to react, Logan punching all the air out of your lungs as he sets a brutal pace.

The sudden intensity has you gasping, your body jolting as he takes over, fucking you like his life depends on it. 

Each thrust is hard and deep, hitting the spot inside of you, over and over again until you’re a trembling mess above him, moaning his name, your nails digging into his chest.

Logan’s grip on you is ironclad, pulling you back onto him harder, faster, his breaths coming out in ragged pants as he loses himself completely in the heat of your body.

"That's it," you pant, feeling the way your body tightens around him, the tension building deep inside you. "Fuck, Logan, just like that—"

He growls again, the sound vibrating through his chest as he slams into you harder, his pace relentless. You can feel the sweat slick between your bodies, hear the wet, filthy sounds of your bodies coming together as his control snaps completely.

“Mine,” he growls between thrusts, voice low and rough as he pounds into you, his eyes locked on yours, full of possessive need. "All fuckin’ mine."

Your body responds to his words, tightening around him as your orgasm builds, every nerve in your body on fire. "Yes," you gasp, your voice barely more than a broken moan as he hits that perfect spot again and again. "Yours—only yours."

Slowly, deliberately, you bring your hand to your mouth, biting down on the pad of your thumb hard enough to draw a thin line of blood.

The scent of iron fills the space between you, mixing with the musk of sex and sweat. Logan’s nostrils flare as he takes in the scent, his pupils dilating further, and you feel his cock twitch inside of you.

You raise your thumb to his mouth, sliding it along his bottom lip to leave behind a thin trail of red. “Suck,” you whisper softly, pressing your thumb into his mouth ever so slightly. 

And he does, without hesitation. 

Logan’s lips part, and he pulls your thumb into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the taste of your blood. The look in his eyes as he does sends a wave of heat crashing through you.

The pure devotion of the act thickening the air around you to coil the spring of pleasure winding in your lower stomach tighter.

You groan, your own restraint folding like a house of cards as you drag your nose down the column of his throat, stopping right at the base. You press a quick kiss over the rapid fluttering of his pulse before you bite down, hard.

Logan keens around your thumb, teeth digging into your skin roughly as his blood floods your mouth. 

You get lost in it, the familiar taste of him seeping onto your tongue as his cock jerks and pulses in your clenching cunt. Getting lost in the way you can feel the rhythm of his heart against your lips, each strong beat sending more blood pumping out to leak along your taste buds.

You press your chest to his, not leaving an inch of space between you. It’s still not enough, it will never be enough.

You need more, so much more.

You want to encompass him completely, to be encompassed by him.

You want to dig your hands into his skin–to peel back each layer of flesh and fat and muscle, snap each of his ribs back so you can bury yourself in the cavity of his chest before you bend them back into place. Burrowing yourself deep enough inside him to watch him heal all around you, to watch his skin stitch itself back together.

It’s a sick feeling, the need to take and take until he has no more left to give. Sick and all consuming, lighting you up like the raging flames of a forest fire that destroys everything in its path. 

When you finally pull your hand away from his mouth, he lets out a breathless moan, and you lean down to press your lips against his in a bruising kiss.

The coppery tang of your blood lingers between you, mixing with Logan’s as your teeth clash together violently, as you devour him, pouring every ounce of your control into the kiss.

You press your palm to his chest, powers surging to life over his heart. You don't need to open your eyes to see what you leave behind, the red and blue pulse of his blood lighting up beneath his skin like the neon sign hanging outside his favorite bar.

Logan moans into your mouth, tongue dragging along the point of your canines. "Don't stop," he pleads, “Please, baby, don’t fuckin’ stop.”

You can feel the energy coursing between you, a tangible thing that's threading itself between your fingers. It’s intoxicating, a connection deeper than flesh, a binding of souls fueled by blood and lust. You lean into the heat radiating from him, urging your energy to flow freely, wrapping it around his heart like a warm embrace.

“Logan,” you whisper breathily, breaking the kiss just enough to look into his wild, pleading eyes. “You feel that? You and me, we’re connected.”

“I feel it, honey,” he groans, bucking his hips, forcing you to take him deeper. “You’re everywhere. It’s all I can think about all the goddamn time, drives me fuckin’ crazy.” His words tumble from his lips, raw and unfiltered, sending another thrill of desire through you.

You whine, head tipping back to the ceiling. Drunk of the feeling of him, of his cock, of his blood on your teeth.

You've come to think that being in bed with Logan is like being in church.

There's a holiness to the way he holds you—like you’re the only thing worth believing in.

The familiar weight of his body pressing you into the mattress is the alter. The heat of him like laying in the burning flame of a candle. The strong planes of his muscles each a different scripture that you take in by touch alone, skating your hands over his skin with something close to worship.

Each bead of sweat on his skin feels sacred, a testament to the intensity between you, as though every part of him has been crafted for this moment of devotion.

The hard length of his cock carves a place for itself inside you, each heavy smack of his hips punching another desperate sound out of your slack lips. 

His breath, deep and ragged, is a chant that pulls you into reverence. It puffs against the wild beat of your pulse, his lips brushing over the fever hot plane of your skin. 

The sound of your name falling from his mouth sounds like a prayer answered.

You can’t help but close your eyes, not in exhaustion, but in a kind of spiritual surrender, like by shutting out the world, you can truly grasp the divinity of it. His blood, mixing with yours on your tongue feels like a sacrament—an unholy communion.

The air between you crackles with heat, your bodies moving together in perfect sync, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. Logan’s head tilts back, his mouth open in a silent scream as he claws at your hips, pulling you down harder, deeper.

“I’m close,” he groans, his voice strained, desperate. “Please—fuck—I need to—”

You reach up quickly, grabbing his jaw and forcing him to look at you. “Look at me when you fuck me,” you demand, your voice sharp, dripping with authority. “I want you to watch me when you come.”

That’s all it takes.

 Logan’s entire body goes taut, a strangled roar tearing from his throat as he buries himself inside you one last time, the force of his release crashing through him. The hot spray of his come floods your insides, drenching your walls in thick spurts of white. 

His hands grip you so tightly you’re sure there’ll be bruises blooming later, but you don’t care. You wish they wouldn’t fade. You want them. You want to wear his mark, to feel the evidence of this moment lingering on your skin long after it’s over.

His hips don’t stop even as he comes, a sharp cry ripping its way from his throat as he keeps fucking you, pumping you full of him like he can’t stop. 

When you feel him start to lose control like that, feel the frantic twitch of his cock inside you, you finally let go, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. The force of it rips a scream from your throat as you clench around him, your body spasming with the intensity of it.

Your abused cunt gushes around his cock to seep into the mattress, soaking both the sheets and his lower body all at once as you let out a weak mutter of his name.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is the ragged, uneven breathing between you as you both come down from the high. Logan collapses on the bed, arms circling your waist to drag you along with him. His cock stays inside of you, plugging you full of his come.

Your body trembles with the aftershocks of your orgasm, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. 

Logan is warm and grounding under you, soft and lax. You can feel his heartbeat, strong and steady beneath your cheek, and you press a soft kiss to the skin there, a silent reminder.

His hand comes up to thread through your hair, his touch gentle now, his body relaxed in a way that it wasn’t before.

“I love you,” he whispers against the crown of your head, his voice soft, vulnerable in a way that makes your heartache.

You smile, soft and secretive in the valley of his pecs, “I love you too.”

It’s a quiet admission, the first time you’ve ever said that to each other with words. The first time you both felt the need to, because it’s nothing you didn’t already know.

Your blood dripping from his teeth lays the same claim over you as his come dripping down your thighs.

It means you're his, and he’s yours.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[pirateprincessblog]

accidentally sending a nude to ateez (hyung line) - fake texts

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: you are a rookie idol in kq, and accidentally send a nude picture to ateez 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: psh x y/n, khj x y/n, jyh x y/n, kys x y/n 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: a little angst?, sexting, insecurities, fingering, squirting, oral (f! Receiving) 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: reader is of age!

𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐰𝐚

*offense not offence omg

the practice couldn't end fast enough. when it did, you shook as you exited the practice room. and you shook even more when you found park seonghwa's figure leaning against the wall with his back, one foot resting on the wall behind him and one on the ground, with a hand in his pocket and the other one scrolling on his phone. when he noticed you, he gave you a sweet smile and offered to take your backpack.

in no time, you find yourself back inside the now locked room, sitting in front of the mirror with your legs spread out and slender fingers slowly pumping in and out of you.

"look how pretty you are." "you moan so sweetly." "look at you glowing." he chants against your ear, hot breath caressing your face and lips grazing your neck and jaw.

𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠

your third award show already as a rookie, and you are still nervous. you excuse yourself, and the members offer to go with you.

"i'm fine, just need fresh air."

you exit the venue, breathing heavily. once you step over the threshold, you lean against the wall. the air is cool and biting against your bare arms, but the adrenaline rush inside you is keeping you warm. you miss the way the door opens again, a figure with his hands in his pockets slowly approaching you with a smirk.

"hey."

"fuck- where did you come from?"

"do i need to teach you manners, little rookie?" the playful glint in his eyes isn't gone, even though his face is dead serious when he grabs your jaw to look at him.

you are at a loss for words. a person standing aside might think that you were scared or in danger, but the arousal between your legs proves different.

"nervous?" he asks, seeing your distressed face. you nod, not able to break eye contact with him. it is so addicting. "let me help."

legs over his shoulders, and back uncomfortably pressed against the cold wall, you moan against hongjoong's hand. he has his head buried in the layers of your dress, tongue relentlessly lapping at your aching core and ridding your body of any remaining worries and troubles.

if someone once told you that kim hongjoong would be accepting his award and giving a speech with your arousal coating his lips, you'd call them a madman. but you sit and watch it happen, lips shinier than any lip gloss in the world.

𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨

opening the door and finding jeong yunho standing there just as you were mid blocking his contact was a punch to the chest.

"hello." he smiles. "is alex here?"

"i'm here, you don't need her now." you step aside to let him in.

you guide him to the living room and continue into your room, hoping he'd stay there. but he doesn't, instead following to the room which you've managed to clean this morning. as you search for where you left the disc while you were stressing over the accidental nude, yunho busies himself with touching your things.

"ah, the fateful joystick."

"stop, give me that." you reach for it, but yunho uses his tall card, simply holding the gadget high in the air. "not fair."

standing on your tiptoes as your fingers desperately try to grab it, you lose balance and fall on the man. he catches you with one hand around your waist, pressing you further against him. "careful."

"take it, i don't care. it's a stupid game that i keep losing in, anyway."

"want me to teach you? this would be my second playthrough. i lost the disc and when you said you had it, i had to."

when you agreed, you didn't think he'd teach you while he also makes you moan. every time you don't listen to his instructions and fail, his hips stop and he denies you an orgasm, leaving you whining and groaning in frustration. his hand rests on your arched back, while his other one pulls your hair so your eyes stay on the screen. his hips work slowly, giving you enough sensation to keep you focused too. once you finally get through the toughest level, he pushes your head into the mattress, slamming his hips against your ass and finally giving you a reward for your hard work.

𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠

conveniently, you sat in the front, next to yeosang who was driving. your cheeks redder than ever, your heart beating loudly, and your thighs pressed together. you felt wrong, but couldn't stop the gawking. his hands looked pretty when playing the violin, the guitar, and driving. it drove you insane.

"oppa, can you stop at a gas station so i can get some water?" one of your group members asks from behind, and the man doesn't take long before finding one and stopping.

all of them step out to refresh, leaving you and yeosang alone.

"i'm sorry." you don't hesitate to apologize as soon as they're gone.

yeosang is sitting on the edge of an open trunk, scrolling on his phone and avoiding you. or so you thought. he looks at you confused. "why?"

"for the picture. i'm sorry. i didn't mean to."

"i know you didn't, it's okay." he smiles assuringly.

"but- you didn't respond to my messages. i thought you were angry."

"i was..." he lowers his gaze, his cheeks a light pink colour. "i was in a dilemma. no man would stay careless after seeing a picture like that. especially me, since it's you."

"what?"

"you think i didn't notice all those clicks of the camera and you zooming in on my hands?"

and those very same hands have you bent over the open trunk, fingers drilling into you from behind as you moan into his other hand. you fear that the members might be back already, but yeosang assures you that he has it under control, urging you to relax and enjoy.

light squelching fills the trunk, along with his palm colliding with your bare ass with your skirt flipped over. in no time, the orgasm hits you like never before, and you hear yeosang gasp behind you.

"a squirter, huh."

well, now you were.

[mistymisfit]

How he shows he loves you

Summary: 3 short blurbs on how Jason shows reader he loves them.

warnings: mentions of reader being kidnapped, but descriptions are very vague lol.

wc: 2k

a/n: This isn't edited at all, but it has been sitting on y drafts for wayyyy too long

Jokes

Disappointment is not the initial reaction he hoped for when he came in through your front door. Shock would've been a more appropriate response, since your music was too loud and you didn't hear him come in. He decided to pull a prank and scare you, silently making his way to the kitchen where you were having a karaoke session. Which given how quiet he could be when he wanted to, it was not that hard at all. Now Jason tries to hold back his laugh, a boyish grin plastered across his features that he wouldn't be able to suppress even if he tried.

"What are you making?" He whispers next to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. If he was being honest, he'd say he is concerned about how long it takes you to notice there's someone else in your apartment. But right now, he's too caught up in the bliss of being in your presence that he can't bring himself to care.

"Oh, you're early." You say after the scream you let out when he comes up behind you, seemingly out of nowhere to whisper in your ear.

"Why? You're mad?" He replies, hiding his insecurity behind sass. What if you didn't want him there? What if he's overstayed his welcome? But before he can come up with some convoluted reason for why you don't want him anymore, you're stopping him.

"I just wanted to have this done by the time you got here" You signal back at the food with your head. And he looks over, finally realizing you were cooking his favorite meal.

"What's the special occasion?"

"Nothing," You blush "Can't a girl just cook for her boyfriend?"

"Not unless she wants me to make her my wife," He teases, you roll your eyes, growing accustomed to these types of jokes. Once he reached a certain level of domesticity and was comfortable enough in the relationship, he started to talk about how he was gonna marry you. Jason would even jokingly refer to you as his wife. At first, he made you blush, now it was just the usual routine.

You would lie if you said it didn't excite you and make your feelings all mushy when he did that, your heart felt warmer when he showed how committed he was to you. You felt giddy whenever he said "When we get married", he never said if we get married, he was very certain about wanting to spend the rest of his life with you. Your heart skipped a beat whenever he'd drop a detail of his dream wedding, "We're having a chocolate cake, like the one in Matilda" or "I'm kissing the fuck out of you on that altar". One time he said: "If you liked that, imagine what our honeymoon would be", that one got him a soft slap on his chest as you chuckled.

"How did you get here anyways?" You change the subject, going back to your cooking.

"Used the front door" He answers with a smirk, arms wrapping around your waist as he steps closer to you.

"Really? How?"

"Cause I'm your boyfriend," He replies like it's the most obvious thing in the world. It is, but he didn't need to say it like that. "I have been for a while, and you gave me your keys"

"Damn, my doorman just lets anyone in these days" You joke and you can hear the little "tsk" that comes from his mouth as he lets go of you.

"I can leave and come back from your window" He's kidding, but you know him well enough to know he's willing to follow through just for the sake of doing a bit. Instead, you hold his arm, pulling him back to you in between giggles.

"Please, I finally have boot imprint-free windowsills"

He laughs, it's real laughter, not his usual chuckle. It makes your heart work overtime as you watch his smile reach his eyes so much that he ends up closing them. He pulls you in for a kiss before he lets you go to finish the dinner you worked so hard on. The food that when he takes a bite from has him asking:"You want a summer or spring wedding?"

Touch

Even if he's less inclined to admit this, Jason knew that before you met he was touch starved. And now he can't get enough of it, he's constantly on your side or with his hands on you in any way, shape or form. It came as a shock--to him-- how badly he needed you sometimes, he never felt this about anyone before. He swears he's not usually this clingy.

You are walking down the street and suddenly you're not holding his hand or bicep and he's grabbing your hand and putting it back. He could never be one of those boyfriends who don't notice when their partner stops holding their hand, if you ever so that he's immediately holding your hand again and asking what's wrong.

Sometimes his touch is protective. You are going through a crowded space and he has his hand placed on the small of your back, guiding you and making sure nothing ever happens to you. It turns a little too protective when another guy tries talking to you and he wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in for a kiss.

But most of the time, he's all alone with you, lying down on bed or a couch, and he's tracing shapes on your uncovered skin. He leans his head closer when you play with his hair or God forbid you touch his face, it has his knees giving out. He loves feeling your weight on top of him, loves feeling you're real and that you're with him and not going anywhere. Maybe he sneaks a hand under your clothes if he feels daring, and your attention doesn't shift. It amazes him how he's allowed this, how much access you give him. And over everything else, it doesn't have to be sexual. Casual skin to skin contact did not have to mean anything else; it was just that.

With you he's experienced that not every touch has violence behind it, not every contact has an ulterior motive. So he's so gentle with you, maybe he is not good with words, so he makes up for it. You know he shows his affection in action rather than words, he's not that far from worshiping the ground you walk on. He's specially kind when you know you're vulnerable; he presses kisses to your face as much as he can and to your shoulder blades when he can't. You know he's a big softy since you've pretended to be asleep multiple times as he played with your hair. An more than once you've heard him whisper hushed love confessions he never thought you'd hear. His hands are rough with criminals but you'd never be able to tell by how kind he's around you.

Priority

Jason wants you to know you can count on him for anything, he makes a point of it by telling you multiple times. You ran out of milk? He's buying it on his way to your place Your apartment needs fixing and your landlord won't help? Problem's solved within the hour. Maybe you got terrible cramps, he's there to help you however you want him to. So it's no surprise to you or anyone that the second you're in danger he drops everything else. You're his number one priority.

"Where is she?" He pushes Bruce for information, which he was adamant in not telling him. Knowing Jason, he'd end up acting before he thinks it through, he'd show up unprepared and end up causing a disaster. Or at least that is what Bruce thinks about the son who plotted his revenge against him for years to the last minute detail.

"Jason" He mutters under his breath.

"I swear to God if I find out someone touched a hair in her head because you wasted time-"

"You go with me or you don't" He threatens "at all."

And Jason loves you so much, he's willing to agree to work with him in a heartbeat. He puts all his resentment aside when he thinks it will help you, if it meant working with the bat and abiding by his rules, then so be it. He'll track down the poor fucker who took you and kill him later. He didn't like being around him, it made him feel tense due to the incredibly strained relationship between the two of them. Bruce loved Jason, but sadly his way of showing it translated quite the opposite way in the younger one's eyes.

Bruce was being too quiet about what happened to you. All he knew was that he couldn't reach you, you were not at any of the usual places, and your friends had no idea where you were either. He checked your apartment and things were perfectly placed, no one had broken in--other than him. Then when he tracked your phone, which he only promised to do in extreme situations like today, he found it inside your purse thrown in some dirty alleyway. That's when his panic hit its peak and turned back to get his red hood gear and ask the bats if they knew anything about you.

He got to a warehouse, standing next to Bruce he decides to push him a bit more to get anything out of him. His mind was killing him with questions, were you okay? what happened? how did he know? and couldn't bear another second next to the stoic figure not willing to tell him anything.

"It's Mad Hatter, he's been taking people off the streets for-"

"Is she okay?" He cuts off, he has no space in his mind for whatever crazy thing he had planned against Batman or the city. Not when he's not sure you're safe, when Bruce won't even tell him if you're alive.

"She should be" He gives in "I'll take care of him, you handle hostages"

That's all he needs, he braces himself before following after Bruce, watching every step he made as it could make the difference between losing you or saving you. Jason's a bit pissed he's relegated to hostages much like he was during his time as Robin but decides against questioning for now. He steps and breathes as quietly as he can while he makes his way past the sign that reads "Wonderland". He silently signals to Bruce that they should split and cover more ground, to which he agreed with a curt nod. His masks allows him to have a better vision in the dark, so he can see how filthy the place was and how worn down the wonderland decorations were. He doesn't know if the man was there, but knowing Bruce he sent him on a path he wasn't likely to find him alone.

He finally finds some of his hostages, two twins laying unconscious on the floor. He tried waking them up to no success; he saw their chests move up and down as they breathed, so he knew he could worry about that later. Moving further, he sees a couple more people, all dressed up as characters like the twins were, in the same state. He then moves to the tea party, where another two kids dressed as the animals in the book sat with their heads on the table. He picks one of them up and rests them in a more comfortable position on the floor using what he could to make a cushion for their head, then does the same with the other kid. He thinks it's the least he could do if he couldn't wake them up. After a nerve-wracking walk through Lewis Caroll's nightmare he finds you, he feels his soul getting back to his body when his eyes finally land on you.

You lay on a floor that resembles a chessboard wearing a white dress and a crown, a little blonde girl with a light blue dress is cuddled up on your arms. He kneels down next to you, whispering your name and grabbing your shoulder to shake you in an almost desperate attempt to wake you.

"Please, please" He's sure if someone could hear how pathetic he sounded, his reputation would be ruined forever.

"Jay?" You manage to mutter under your breath, still not opening your eyes.

"Yes, I'll get you out of here"

"Hm, hats" you hummed, he doubted you were even aware of anything.

"I know, baby"

"off" Your voice was low and it seemed to him that you were fighting to stay awake and losing.

He took off the crown from your head and the headband from "Alice's". Listening to your advice, even if you were barely conscious. Once he confirmed you were okay, he carried you out. Then he came back for the little girl next to you, and so on until everyone was out and hat free. By that time police had arrived, and Batman was handing Jervis' ass to the cops to begin the cycle once more. He holds back, watching from afar to avoid getting caught. He watched as Batman shared a few words with Gordon, then Barbara tuned in to let him know which hospital they were taking you to.

When you wake up he is next to you, holding your hand and with the biggest eye-bags you've ever seen him with. He almost starts crying when you call his name in a hoarse whisper.

"I'm okay,"You whisper, wrapping your arms tightly around him. The scene is too touching as you see someone put a hand on his shoulder and tell him something.

"I'll go tell the doctors you woke up" He excused himself, reluctant even to let go of your hand, much less entertained by the idea of being separated from you too long.

You didn't see him as Jason's frame covered the man behind him but now you notice the one and only Bruce Wayne standing in your hospital room. It was too much to take in.

"Oh, Jason must really love me if he was willing to work with you"

[bratzkoo]

barely yours | mingyu pt. 2

Author: bratzkoo | navi Pairing: rockstar! mingyu x reader Word Count: 5.4k Genre: fluff, angst, smut-ish Rating: NC-17 (PG-13 for this chapter only) Possible Warnings: mingyu is an idiot, AGAIN. written in third person.

Summary: you flirt, you fuck, but when you hint that you want to be more he dismissed it as if you’re joking… and when you decide to ignore him he comes back with flowers at your doorstep.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): ​ @ca-clover, @junniesoleilkth , @gaslysainz , @darkerrdaze , @mansaaay , @childish-fear , @whoa-jo , @movingalongfrs

find other parts here! pt. 1 | pt.2 | pt. 3 | pt. 4

requests are open, but you can just say hi! | masterlist

Y/N felt her carefully constructed facade begin to crumble as she looked into Seungcheol's eyes. The lead vocalist and leader of HHT stood before her, his usually melodic voice now tight with concern and something that sounded like barely contained frustration.

"Y/N," he said, his voice low and urgent. "We need to talk about Mingyu."

She glanced around the hallway, acutely aware of the curious glances from passing employees. This was not a conversation she wanted to have in the middle of her father's company.

"Not here," she hissed, grabbing Seungcheol's arm and pulling him towards an empty conference room. Once inside, she closed the door and leaned against it, as if she could physically block out the complications that were piling up around her.

"What's going on?" Seungcheol demanded as soon as they were alone. "Mingyu showed up at our dorm this morning looking like he'd been hit by a truck. He's refusing to talk to anyone, and we have that radio interview in a few hours."

Y/N closed her eyes, guilt washing over her. She'd been so focused on protecting herself that she hadn't considered how her decision might affect the band. "I... we ended things," she admitted quietly.

Seungcheol's eyebrows shot up. "Ended things? I didn't realize there were 'things' to end. I thought you two were just..."

"Fooling around?" Y/N supplied bitterly. "Yeah, well, it turns out feelings don't always follow the rules we set for them."

Understanding dawned on Seungcheol's face, followed quickly by sympathy. "You fell for him."

It wasn't a question, but Y/N nodded anyway. "I did. And when I tried to talk to him about it, he made it clear that he didn't want anything more. So I ended it."

Seungcheol ran a hand through his hair, a habit he shared with Mingyu when he was stressed. "Shit, Y/N. This is... complicated."

"You think I don't know that?" Y/N snapped, then immediately regretted her tone. "I'm sorry. I just... I don't know what to do. And now my father wants me to take a more active role in managing you guys, and I-"

"Wait, what?" Seungcheol interrupted. "You're going to be our manager?"

Y/N shook her head. "Not exactly. He wants me to be more involved in the management side of things. Apparently, I 'understand your demographic' better than the older executives."

Seungcheol let out a low whistle. "Talk about adding fuel to the fire. How are you going to manage that with... everything else going on?"

"I have no idea," Y/N admitted, slumping into one of the conference room chairs. "I never wanted this, Cheol. Any of it. I was happy being the party girl, the CEO's wild child. It was easier."

Seungcheol took the seat next to her, his expression softening. "Maybe it was easier, but was it really what you wanted? Because the Y/N I know is smart, talented, and more than capable of handling whatever comes her way."

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat at his words. It had been a long time since someone had seen her as more than just a pretty face or a potential scandal. "I'm scared," she whispered.

Seungcheol reached out, taking her hand in his. "It's okay to be scared. But you're not alone in this, Y/N. The band... we care about you. Both you and Mingyu."

At the mention of Mingyu's name, Y/N felt her heart clench. "How is he, really?"

Seungcheol sighed. "He's hurting. I've never seen him like this before. Whatever was between you two... I don't think it was as casual for him as he let on."

Y/N's head snapped up, hope and confusion warring in her chest. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Seungcheol said carefully, "that maybe you two need to have an actual conversation. One where you both be honest about your feelings."

"I tried that," Y/N protested. "He laughed it off."

"And you immediately ended things instead of pushing the issue," Seungcheol pointed out gently. "Look, I'm not taking sides here. You're both my friends. But I think there's more to this story than either of you are seeing right now."

Y/N wanted to argue, to defend her decision. But a small part of her wondered if Seungcheol might be right. Had she been too hasty? Too afraid of rejection to really hear what Mingyu was saying – or not saying?

Before she could respond, Seungcheol's phone buzzed. He glanced at it and grimaced. "That's our manager. I need to go wrangle the guys for this interview." He stood, then hesitated. "Y/N, promise me you'll think about what I said. And maybe... maybe come to our studio session tomorrow? We could use your input on some of the new tracks."

Y/N nodded, not trusting herself to speak. As Seungcheol reached the door, she found her voice. "Cheol? Thank you. For everything."

He flashed her a warm smile. "That's what friends are for. Just... don't let fear make your decisions for you, okay?"

As the door closed behind him, Y/N leaned back in her chair, her mind whirling. She'd thought ending things with Mingyu would simplify her life, but it seemed to have done the exact opposite. Now she had a broken heart, a new job she wasn't sure she wanted, and the possibility that she'd misunderstood everything about her relationship with Mingyu.

Her phone buzzed, and she looked down to see a message from her father:

"Meeting with HHT's team tomorrow at 10 AM. Be there."

Y/N closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Tomorrow, she would have to face Mingyu, the band, and her new responsibilities all at once. She wasn't sure if she was ready, but she knew she didn't have a choice.

As she left the conference room and made her way out of the building, Y/N made a decision. She would go to the studio session tomorrow, as Seungcheol had suggested. She would face her fears head-on.

And maybe, just maybe, she would find the courage to have that honest conversation with Mingyu. Because if there was even a chance that he felt the same way...

Well, that was a risk she might just be willing to take.

-

Y/N stood outside the studio door, her hand hovering over the handle. She could hear muffled voices and the faint strains of music from inside. Taking a deep breath, she smoothed down her blazer and steeled herself. Today, she wasn't Hwang Y/N, the party girl with a broken heart. She was Hwang Y/N, the professional, here to do a job.

With that thought firmly in mind, she pushed open the door.

The chatter inside the studio immediately died down as she entered. Five pairs of eyes turned to her, but she only allowed herself to focus on one – Seungcheol's. He gave her a small, encouraging nod.

"Good morning, everyone," Y/N said, proud of how steady her voice sounded. "I hope you don't mind, but I'll be sitting in on your session today. My father thinks it would be beneficial for me to have a more hands-on role in the creative process."

She deliberately avoided looking at Mingyu, who she could sense was staring at her intently from his position by the guitar rack.

Vernon was the first to break the awkward silence. "Cool, always good to have a fresh pair of ears. We're working on the bridge for the title track. Want to hear what we've got so far?"

Y/N nodded gratefully, taking a seat next to the sound engineer. As the music started playing, she allowed herself to get lost in the melody, analyzing the composition and arrangement. This, at least, was familiar territory. She'd always had a good ear for music, even if she'd never pursued it professionally.

As the song progressed, she found herself nodding along, impressed by the intricate harmonies and the way Seungcheol's powerful vocals blended with the instrumental. But something was off in the bridge – the guitar riff didn't quite mesh with the rest of the arrangement.

When the song ended, Y/N cleared her throat. "That was great, guys. Really solid work. But I think the bridge needs some tweaking. The guitar part feels a bit... disjointed."

She saw Mingyu stiffen out of the corner of her eye, but she kept her gaze fixed on Seungcheol.

"What do you suggest?" Wonwoo asked, leaning forward with interest.

Y/N bit her lip, considering. "Maybe if we simplified the riff a bit? Something that complements Seungcheol's vocals rather than competing with them."

There was a moment of silence, and then Mingyu spoke for the first time. "And what would you know about composing guitar parts?"

His tone was cold, almost challenging. Y/N finally allowed herself to look at him, keeping her expression neutral despite the way her heart raced at the sight of him. He looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes, but still unfairly handsome.

"I may not be a guitarist," Y/N replied evenly, "but I know what sounds good. And right now, that bridge doesn't flow with the rest of the song."

Mingyu opened his mouth to argue, but Seungcheol cut him off. "She's right, Gyu. I was thinking the same thing, but I couldn't put my finger on why it wasn't working. Let's try simplifying it."

For a moment, it looked like Mingyu might argue further. But then he shrugged, turning back to his guitar. "Fine. Let's hear your ideas then, Y/N."

The way he said her name, like it left a bitter taste in his mouth, made Y/N wince internally. But she pushed through, working with the band to refine the bridge. To her surprise, once they got past the initial awkwardness, the creative process flowed smoothly. Even Mingyu, despite his obvious reluctance, contributed valuable ideas.

As the hours passed, Y/N found herself relaxing into her role. She offered suggestions on vocal arrangements, helped fine-tune lyrics, and even hummed out a melody idea that Vernon quickly turned into a catchy hook for their b-side track.

It wasn't until their manager called for a lunch break that the comfortable bubble of creativity burst. As the others filed out of the studio, chatting about where to grab food, Y/N hung back, gathering her notes. She was so focused on avoiding being alone with Mingyu that she didn't notice Seungcheol had stayed behind until he spoke.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Y/N looked up, offering him a small smile. "No, it wasn't. You guys are incredibly talented. It's... it's an honor to work with you like this."

Seungcheol's expression softened. "You're good at this, Y/N. Really good. Have you ever thought about pursuing music production?"

She shook her head. "Not really. It was always just a hobby. Besides, my father has other plans for me."

"Maybe it's time to make your own plans," Seungcheol suggested gently. Then, after a pause, "Mingyu was watching you, you know. When you weren't looking."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat, but she forced herself to shrug nonchalantly. "We have to work together now. It's bound to be awkward for a while."

Seungcheol looked like he wanted to say more, but just then, the studio door opened and Mingyu walked in, stopping short when he saw them.

"Sorry," he muttered. "Forgot my phone."

The tension in the room was palpable as Mingyu retrieved his phone from beside his guitar. Y/N kept her eyes fixed on her notes, hyper-aware of his every movement.

As he turned to leave, Mingyu paused. "The bridge sounds better now," he said stiffly, not quite looking at Y/N. "Good call."

Before she could respond, he was gone, the door closing firmly behind him.

Y/N let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "This is going to be harder than I thought," she admitted quietly.

Seungcheol squeezed her shoulder supportively. "Give it time. And maybe... maybe try talking to him? Outside of work?"

Y/N shook her head firmly. "No. It's better this way. Clean break, professional distance. It's the only way this can work."

As they left the studio to join the others for lunch, Y/N repeated those words in her head like a mantra. Professional distance. It was the right thing to do.

So why did it feel so wrong? -

The atmosphere in the practice room was thick with tension, the usual easy banter replaced by an uncomfortable silence broken only by the sound of instruments being tuned. Seungcheol watched as Mingyu stole yet another glance at Y/N, who was studiously avoiding eye contact as she reviewed some paperwork in the corner. The leader of HHT sighed inwardly, knowing that something had to give.

For weeks now, Seungcheol had noticed the change in dynamics between Mingyu and Y/N. The playful flirtation that had once been a constant source of amusement (and occasional exasperation) for the band had vanished, replaced by awkward silences and stilted interactions. It was more than just personal drama – it was affecting the band's chemistry, and as the leader, Seungcheol knew he had to do something.

"Alright, let's take it from the top," Seungcheol called out, hoping that focusing on the music might alleviate some of the tension.

As they launched into their latest single, Seungcheol couldn't help but notice how Mingyu's usually flawless guitar work seemed off. The tall guitarist kept missing cues, his rhythm slightly out of sync with the rest of the band. Every time this happened, Mingyu's eyes would dart to Y/N, as if seeking her reaction, only to quickly look away when he realized she wasn't even watching.

Y/N, for her part, seemed determined to focus solely on her work. She sat in the corner, ostensibly reviewing marketing reports, but Seungcheol noticed how her pen hadn't moved on the page for the past ten minutes. Every now and then, when she thought no one was looking, her gaze would flicker to Mingyu, a mixture of longing and hurt in her eyes.

After an hour of subpar practice, Seungcheol called for a break. As the other members dispersed, grabbing water bottles and checking their phones, he pulled Vernon and Wonwoo aside.

"We need to talk about the Mingyu-Y/N situation," he said in a low voice, guiding them to a quiet corner of the room.

Vernon nodded, relief evident on his face. "Thank god someone said it. The tension is killing me. I feel like I'm walking on eggshells every time they're in the same room."

Wonwoo frowned, his usually calm demeanor showing signs of strain. "It's affecting our performance too. Did you hear Mingyu during that bridge? I've never heard him miss those notes before."

Seungcheol ran a hand through his hair, a habit he'd picked up when stressed. "I know. That's why we need to do something. I have an idea, but I'm going to need your help."

As Seungcheol outlined his plan, Vernon's eyes widened in disbelief while Wonwoo's narrowed in thought.

"Fake dating?" Vernon whispered, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Mingyu wasn't within earshot. "Isn't that a bit… I don't know, dramatic?"

Seungcheol shrugged. "Maybe. But subtle hasn't been working. Those two are too stubborn for their own good. Sometimes you need to fight fire with fire."

Wonwoo nodded slowly. "It could work. But are you sure Y/N will agree to it?"

"Leave Y/N to me," Seungcheol said, a determined glint in his eye. "For now, I need you two to help set the stage. Can I count on you?"

Both Vernon and Wonwoo nodded, though Vernon still looked a bit uncertain. As they broke apart, returning to their instruments, none of them noticed Mingyu watching them with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

Later that week, Y/N was working late in her office, the soft glow of her desk lamp the only light in the room. She rubbed her eyes, tired from staring at spreadsheets all day. As she reached for her coffee mug, a soft knock on the door made her jump.

"Come in," she called, straightening up in her chair.

Seungcheol poked his head in, an unusually serious expression on his face. "Got a minute?"

Y/N nodded, gesturing for him to sit. "What's up, Cheol? Is everything okay with the band?"

Seungcheol settled into the chair across from her, his usually relaxed posture tense. "Yes and no. The band is fine, but… well, that's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about."

Y/N felt a knot form in her stomach. She had a feeling she knew where this was going. "If this is about Mingyu-"

"It is," Seungcheol cut in gently. "But not in the way you might think. I have a… proposition for you."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite herself. "I'm listening."

Seungcheol took a deep breath. "Look, we've all noticed the tension between you two. It's affecting the band, and frankly, I hate seeing you both so miserable."

"I'm not-" Y/N started to protest, but Seungcheol held up a hand.

"Y/N, come on. We've known each other too long for that. You're not happy, and neither is Mingyu. But you're both too stubborn to do anything about it."

Y/N slumped back in her chair, the fight going out of her. "What am I supposed to do, Cheol? He made it clear he doesn't want anything serious. I can't keep putting myself out there just to get hurt again."

Seungcheol leaned forward, his eyes intense. "What if we gave Mingyu a taste of his own medicine? What if… we pretended to date?"

Y/N's eyes widened in shock. "What? Cheol, that's crazy. Why would we-"

"To make Mingyu jealous," Seungcheol interrupted. "Look, I've known Mingyu for years. He's stubborn and proud, but he cares about you. A lot. I think seeing you with someone else might be the push he needs to confront his feelings."

Y/N bit her lip, considering. The idea was tempting, but… "But what about the band? And my position? Wouldn't it complicate things even more?"

Seungcheol shrugged. "Maybe. But it could also solve our Mingyu problem. Plus, it might help deflect some of the pressure from your dad about taking things seriously. Dating the lead singer of HHT? That's a power move in the industry."

Y/N couldn't help but laugh at that. "You've really thought this through, haven't you?"

"I care about both of you," Seungcheol said sincerely. "And I hate seeing you two dance around each other like this. So, what do you say? Want to be my fake girlfriend?"

After a moment of hesitation, Y/N nodded. "Okay. Let's do it. But we need to set some ground rules…"

Over the next few days, Seungcheol and Y/N put their plan into action. They started small - sitting closer during meetings, sharing inside jokes, leaving together after practice. The other band members, clued in by Seungcheol, played along perfectly.

Vernon, ever the actor, would waggle his eyebrows suggestively whenever he saw them together. Wonwoo, more subtle in his approach, would casually mention how much time Seungcheol and Y/N had been spending together lately.

Mingyu, however, was oblivious to the plan. At first, he barely seemed to notice the change in dynamics. He was too caught up in his own thoughts, alternating between trying to figure out what had gone wrong with Y/N and convincing himself he didn't care.

But as the days passed, little things started to catch his attention. The way Seungcheol's hand would linger on Y/N's back as they walked into a room. The inside jokes they seemed to share, leaving the rest of the group puzzled. The fact that Y/N was suddenly at every practice session, even when she didn't need to be.

During one particularly grueling practice, Mingyu fumbled a guitar riff he'd played perfectly a hundred times before. His eyes were fixed on Y/N, who was laughing at something Seungcheol had whispered in her ear. The sound of her laughter, once a source of joy for Mingyu, now felt like a knife twisting in his gut.

"Dude, you okay?" Vernon asked, concern evident in his voice.

Mingyu shook his head, trying to clear it. "Yeah, just… distracted."

Vernon followed Mingyu's gaze to where Seungcheol and Y/N were huddled together, looking at something on Y/N's phone. "They've been spending a lot of time together lately, huh?" he said, his tone carefully neutral.

Mingyu grunted noncommittally, but his grip on his guitar tightened. "I guess. Not that it's any of my business."

Vernon raised an eyebrow at that but didn't push further. As they resumed practice, he exchanged a meaningful look with Wonwoo. Their plan was working, perhaps a little too well.

As the days turned into weeks, Mingyu's mood grew increasingly sour. He snapped at staff members over minor mistakes, isolated himself during breaks, and threw himself into his music with an almost manic intensity. His songwriting, always emotionally charged, took on a darker, more melancholic tone.

One evening, after a particularly tense practice session, Wonwoo found Mingyu alone in the studio, furiously scribbling in his notebook.

"New song?" Wonwoo asked, settling into a chair nearby.

Mingyu nodded without looking up. "Yeah. It's… it's about letting go of something you never really had."

Wonwoo's eyebrows shot up at that. "Sounds heavy. Want to talk about it?"

For a moment, it looked like Mingyu might open up. But then he shook his head, slamming the notebook shut. "It's nothing. Just… exploring some new themes."

As Mingyu stood to leave, Wonwoo called out, "You know, if something's bothering you, you can talk to us. We're not just your bandmates, we're your friends."

Mingyu paused at the door, his back to Wonwoo. "I know," he said softly. "But some things… some things you have to figure out on your own."

With that, he was gone, leaving Wonwoo to wonder if perhaps their plan was causing more harm than good.

The situation finally came to a head at a company party celebrating HHT's latest album going platinum. The event was in full swing, the cream of the K-pop industry mingling in a high-end Seoul nightclub.

Mingyu arrived late, his hair disheveled and dark circles under his eyes. He'd spent hours agonizing over whether to attend, knowing Y/N would be there. In the end, his pride (and a strongly worded text from their manager) had won out.

He froze in the doorway as he spotted Y/N and Seungcheol on the dance floor. Y/N was wearing a stunning red dress that hugged her curves, her hair swept up to reveal the graceful line of her neck. Seungcheol, looking handsome in a well-fitted suit, had his hand on her waist as they moved in perfect sync to the music.

Something snapped inside Mingyu. He stormed over to the bar, downing a shot of soju before grabbing another. As he watched Y/N throw her head back in laughter at something Seungcheol said, a series of memories flashed through Mingyu's mind:

Y/N's shy smile the first time they met at a company event. The electricity he felt the first time they kissed, hidden away in a dark corner of a after-party. Late nights spent talking about their dreams and fears, sharing parts of themselves they'd never shown anyone else. The way Y/N's eyes lit up when she listened to his new songs, always the first to offer genuine feedback and encouragement.

And then, more recent memories: The hurt in Y/N's eyes when he'd laughed off her suggestion of something more serious. The growing distance between them, a chasm he hadn't known how to bridge. The ache he felt every time he saw her now, an ache he'd tried to ignore, to rationalize away as mere physical attraction.

But seeing her now, radiant and happy in another man's arms, Mingyu could no longer deny the truth. He was in love with Y/N. Truly, madly, deeply, irrevocably in love. And he might have just lost her to his best friend.

The realization hit him like a physical blow. The glass in Mingyu's hand shattered, startling nearby partygoers. Blood dripped from his palm, but he barely noticed. All he could see was Y/N, beautiful and radiant, looking at Seungcheol with an affection that used to be reserved for him.

As staff rushed to tend to his injured hand, Mingyu's eyes met Y/N's across the room. The concern in her gaze was almost more than he could bear. In that moment, Mingyu knew he had to fight for her, to tell her how he really felt, before it was too late.

But first, he had some serious groveling to do. And maybe, just maybe, a chance to turn his pain into the most heartfelt song he'd ever written.

As he allowed himself to be led away for medical attention, Mingyu's mind was already racing with lyrics, a melody forming that he hoped would convey everything he'd been too afraid to say. He'd messed up, pushed away the best thing in his life out of fear and stubbornness. But if there was even a chance that Y/N still cared for him, he'd move heaven and earth to win her back.

Little did Mingyu know, across the room, Y/N was fighting every instinct to run to him, her heart breaking at the pain evident in his eyes. As Seungcheol squeezed her hand reassuringly, Y/N wondered if their plan had worked a little too well. -

Y/N went home to her apartment. She sat curled up on her couch, a glass of wine in hand, trying to process the events of the evening. The company party had not gone as planned – the image of Mingyu's pain-filled eyes as he clutched his bleeding hand was seared into her memory.

Y/N's phone buzzed for the umpteenth time. Another message from Seungcheol:

"Are you sure you're okay? I can come over if you need to talk."

She sighed, typing out a quick reply:

"I'm fine. Just need some time to think. Talk tomorrow?"

As she hit send, a loud, insistent knocking startled her. Y/N glanced at the clock – 1:37 AM. Who could it be at this hour?

The knocking continued, more urgently now. "Y/N! Y/N, I know you're in there! Please… please open up."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. She'd recognize that voice anywhere, even slurred as it was now. Mingyu.

Hesitantly, she made her way to the door. Taking a deep breath, she opened it to find Mingyu leaning heavily against the doorframe, his usually impeccable appearance in disarray. His shirt was partially unbuttoned, hair a mess, and the unmistakable smell of soju wafted from him.

"Mingyu?" Y/N said, shock evident in her voice. "What are you doing here?"

Mingyu's eyes, glassy from alcohol, focused on her face. A lopsided smile spread across his features. "Y/N… beautiful Y/N. I had to see you. Had to tell you…"

He stumbled forward, nearly falling. Y/N instinctively reached out to steady him, the familiar warmth of his body sending a jolt through her.

"Woah, easy there," she said, guiding him inside and closing the door. "Mingyu, you're drunk. You shouldn't be here."

Mingyu allowed himself to be led to the couch, collapsing onto it with a heavy sigh. "I know, I know. 'm not supposed to be here. But I couldn't… couldn't stop thinking about you. About us."

Y/N perched on the edge of the coffee table, facing him. Despite her better judgment, concern overtook her resolve to keep her distance. "Mingyu, what's going on? Are you okay? Your hand–"

Mingyu waved dismissively, wincing slightly at the movement. His palm was wrapped in a white bandage, a few spots of red seeping through. "It's nothing. Doesn't hurt. Not like…" he trailed off, his eyes growing sad.

"Not like what?" Y/N prompted gently.

"Not like seeing you with him," Mingyu finished, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N felt her heart clench. This was exactly the reaction their fake dating scheme was meant to provoke, but seeing Mingyu in actual pain made her question the wisdom of their plan.

"Mingyu, I–"

"No, let me… let me say this," Mingyu interrupted, sitting up straighter and fixing Y/N with an intense gaze. "I messed up, Y/N. I messed up so bad. I thought… I thought I could handle seeing you with someone else. Thought it didn't matter. But it does. It matters so much."

He reached out, taking Y/N's hands in his. She knew she should pull away, but found herself frozen, captivated by the raw emotion in Mingyu's eyes.

"I miss you," Mingyu continued, his thumbs tracing circles on her palms. "I miss your laugh, your smile. The way you scrunch up your nose when you're concentrating. I miss the way you make me feel – like I'm more than just a idol, more than just a pretty face or a good voice. With you, I'm just… me."

Y/N felt tears pricking at her eyes. This was everything she had wanted to hear for so long, but the circumstances were all wrong. "Mingyu, you're drunk. You don't know what you're saying."

Mingyu shook his head vehemently, then immediately looked like he regretted the motion. "No, no. I'm drunk, yes. But I know… I know what I feel. What I've always felt, even if I was too scared to admit it."

He slid off the couch, landing on his knees in front of Y/N. In any other situation, it might have been comical, but the desperation in his eyes killed any urge to laugh.

"Please, Y/N," Mingyu pleaded, still clutching her hands. "Please give me another chance. Break up with Seungcheol. He's… he's my friend, but he's not right for you. Not like I am. We're… we're meant to be together. I see that now."

Y/N felt panic rising in her chest. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Mingyu wasn't supposed to show up at her door, drunk and emotional, laying his heart bare. She wasn't prepared for this.

"Mingyu, listen to me," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "You're not thinking clearly. We can't… I can't…"

But Mingyu wasn't listening. His eyes had taken on a glassy, unfocused look. "I'll do better this time, I promise. I'll… I'll write you songs. Take you on real dates. Show the whole world how much you mean to me. Just please… please don't leave me."

His impassioned speech was interrupted by a wide yawn. The adrenaline and alcohol seemed to be wearing off, leaving exhaustion in their wake.

"I love you, Y/N," Mingyu mumbled, his head drooping. "I love you so much. Please… please just…"

And with that, Mingyu slumped forward, his head coming to rest in Y/N's lap. Within seconds, soft snores filled the air.

Y/N sat frozen, her mind reeling. Mingyu's words echoed in her head, everything she had longed to hear for months. But was it real? Or just the ramblings of a drunk, jealous man?

Gently, she extricated herself from under Mingyu, laying him out on the couch and covering him with a throw blanket. She allowed herself a moment to study his face, peaceful in sleep, before retreating to her bedroom.

As she lay in bed, sleep eluding her, Y/N's thoughts were a jumbled mess. The fake dating plan had worked – perhaps too well. Mingyu had confessed his feelings, but at what cost? And what would happen in the morning, when he woke up in her apartment with a killer hangover and the memory of his whiskey-soaked confessions?

One thing was clear: the game they'd been playing had just gotten a lot more complicated. And Y/N had a sinking feeling that someone's heart was bound to get broken in the process – quite possibly her own.

[jockwrites]

Can you write something aggressive please 😩

RIGHT HERE - p.b

warnings: smut, (r receiving,) use of drug substances, cursing

a/n: this is pretty short, not that aggressive tbh..but i’m trying a new writing style! also please please please send requests <3

for @billiesmainchick @doyouknowhowtob3nd

paige is manspread on the couch, the aroma of weed sorrounding her.

at the moment, she’s mad because you’d rather spend time with your friends than her. but this isn’t a one time thing—you always do this.

she thinks maybe she’s just overthinking, maybe she’s just in her mind too much. but regardless, if you called she’d answer. if you came in, angry, upset, she’d comfort.

no matter how mad she is, she’s always there for you.

but you aren’t answering her calls, and she’s starting to get heated minute by minute. that’s when she decides to call you one more time, just for closure so she can go to sleep. she’s already high as it is.

you giggle & laugh with your friends, noticing an incoming call from paige before accepting it.

“hello?” you speak into the phone, your smile blatantly obvious through your voice.

her voice is shaky, and there's a hint of anger in it "hey, where are you right now? who are you with?" she asks, trying to keep her tone even. but it's clear she's on edge.

you roll your eyes, knowing she’s just in one of those moods, “im with my friends, paige,” you huffed.

“why can’t you spend time with me? and why the fuck won’t you answer my calls?” she questions, her voice wavering. she’s getting upset, her voice shaking a little. she’s a bit too high.

you shake your head “paige, they’re my friends. and i didn’t answer because we’re having fun, i’ll be back soon.”

she scoffs, getting more heated “so i'm not important enough to answer? i'm sitting here alone, waiting for you. and you're out having fun with your friends. do i not matter to you?”

you get agitated, rolling your eyes as your hand comes up to rub your temple in distress and annoyance, “paige, i’ll be home soon. stop overreacting. yes, you do matter, but they just wanted to spend time with me.”

she laughs bitterly, “stop overreacting? really? you're telling me to stop overreacting when you're the one who keeps blowing me off?” her voice raises. she's definitely high and definitely pissed, “i've been waiting for you all day.”

you scoff, “paige, God. chill the fuck out i said i’ll be there soon.”

she pauses, her breathing heavy. silence. then she speaks, her voice low, “you know what? forget it. i don't give a fuck about your friends.” and with that, she hangs up the phone. you stare at your phone, confused. that was harsh.

you look around, then eagerly tell your friends you need to go, “hey guys, im gonna head out. paige needs me”

you get a simple, in sync, “bye bye,” from everyone before you get up to leave.

you don’t know what’s gotten into paige.

by the time you arrive to the apartment, she’s high as can be, her eyes bloodshot red. she’s in some joggers and a white tee on the couch, her legs manspread. her eyes are low, the expression on her face enough to scare a child. the stench of weed is thick in the air.

you walk in, noticing the unusual disposition she has, “hey baby, are you okay?”

she looks up at you, her gaze hazy as she speaks with sarcasm dripping in her voice. “yeah, im fine. just chillin.” she reaches for her phone, texting someone quickly before putting it down. “so, what made you come back after you fucking left me for those bullshit excuses of ‘friends’?” she asks, her voice husky and low.

you roll your eyes in annoyance, putting one hand on your hip, “paige,” you speak calmly, “i just wanted to have fun. am i not allowed?”

“take a fucking look around hazel,” she says, her voice a low mumble. her eyes are heavy, the high she’s on making her lazy, “they’re not your fucking friends. i’ve already explained this to you. i can’t let this shit keep happening, it happens again and again and i’m sick of it. fuck them.”

you furrow your eyebrows, “but they’re my friends paige. i can’t just not hangout with them.”

she sits up, her eyes finally focusing on you. her gaze is intense, serious. ��bro, hazel, i don’t give a fuck about your friends. i’m right here, why can’t you see that? i’m the only one who’s been there for you. they just want you to come out with them so yall can drink and get fucking laid.”

you look at paige in annoyance, wondering why she’s so bitter all of a sudden, “paige, i do see you. but you need to stop, they are my real friends. you’re just jealous.”

she stands up, her face slightly red with anger. “real friends? really? are you fucking kidding me? they don’t give a shit about you, hazel. they only care about themselves. but you, you care about me. you always have. and i care about you more than they ever could.”

you’re getting agitated, the frustration clear in your voice.“paige, yes they do,” you protest.

she gets in your face, her breath reeking of weed. “no, they fucking don't. you're just too stupid to see it,” she grabs your dress, pulling you closer. “i've been waiting all night for you. you wouldn’t answer my calls.. you wouldn’t text me back.. i’ve been rolling crazy all damn night.”

you look paige in the eyes, going from a bright blue to dark grey. you lean in to whisper, “paige.. im sorry. i didn’t mean to keep you waiting on me.”

“you don’t act like you’re fucking sorry,” she hisses, her voice low and seductive, “you gotta understand baby, i don’t give a fuck about them.”

paige backs you into the wall, the dark scenery of the living room making it hard for you to see, “paige, please.”

she presses her body against yours, pinning you to the wall. her hand comes up to grip your throat, not squeezing, just resting there. “please what, hazel? please stop? please let you go back to your so-called friends?”

you look up at her, this interaction slightly turning you on, “no, paige. i meant could you forgive me,” you whisper, breaking eye contact in guilt.

her grip tightens around your throat slightly as she leans in close, her lips brushing against your ear, “forgive you for what, hazel?” her hand moves down your chest. her touch is so scary, yet so gentle. “for making me worry? for blowing me off?”

your breathing is speeding up, you gulping as her hand comes back up to your neck, “yeah, kind of.”

she leans in closer, her lips barely touching yours. her voice drops to a whisper. “you gotta let me prove i love you more than they do.” her hand moves from your neck, slowly sliding down to grip your waist as the other hand mimics.

you can feel paige starting to kiss your neck, biting your soft spot which makes you bite back a moan, “you can prove it baby.”

her hands move, groping your boobs softly as she kneads them. her kisses trail to your jawline, “it’s not gonna happen again, is it?” she whispers into your ear, her right hand going to grip your ass.

you moan, your arms wrapping around her neck as you speak, slightly breathless, “mhm, no baby, it won’t happen again i promise.”

she growls softly, nuzzling into your neck, her touch getting firmer. she picks you up by the back of your thighs, wrapping your legs around her waist. she carries you to the couch, lowering you down gently. she climbs on top of you, pinning your arms above your head.

you look up at paige, biting your bottom lip in pleasure, “what, you gonna punish me or something?” you provoked, pushing your chest up slightly.

she grins mischievously, leaning down to bite your bottom lip, tugging it gently. she kisses your neck, your collarbone, your chest, slowly pulling the shoulder straps of your dress down. she looks up at you, her eyes cold. “you wanna be punished?”

you smirk, “maybe.”

she growls softly, her hands trailing down your arms, your sides, to your thighs. she grips them tightly, parting them. she leans down, her breath hot against your core. she looks up at you from beneath your dress, her face neutral. "maybe?"

you nag, body desperate for friction, “yeah, maybe.”

without warning, she tugs your panties aside and dives in, licking a slow stripe up your slit. she moans at your taste, the vibrations sending shockwaves through you. her tongue circles your clit teasingly before sucking it between her lips.

you immediately moan, the sudden traction of her tongue onto your clit making you go senseless.

she continues to eat you out, her hands spreading your legs wider as she laps at your pussy. she sticks a finger inside you, curling it to hit that spot that makes you see stars. “you gonna stop acting like a bitch?”

you bite your bottom lip, hands going to grip her hair aggressively as you buck your hips against her face. practically grinding, “mm paige fuck! yes baby!”

she moans into your pussy, the vibrations intensifying your pleasure. she adds another finger, pumping them in and out rapidly as her tongue flicks over your clit. her free hand comes up to pinch and roll your nipple through your dress. “that’s my good girl, always listening to me.”

you let out a wave of curses and moans, the whimpers eliciting a sudden burst of energy in paige,“oh! paige just like that oh my-”

she growls into your core, her fingers pumping faster and harder as you buck your hips against her face. she can feel you getting closer, your legs shaking against her shoulders. she wraps her arms around your thighs to hold you in place as she doubles her efforts, “come for me baby, let me know you know i love you.”

you moan, grinding against her face as you grope her hair tighter. you use your free hand, going to pull your dress down further to knead your tits, “fuck paige you’re gonna make me cum-”

she sucks hard on your clit, her fingers curling inside you as she presses her palm against your ass. she holds you in place, not letting you move as she devours your pussy. she feels you tighten around her fingers and knows you're about to cum.

you start to approach your climax, your legs quivering, “paige please don’t stop ohmygosh!” you whine out.

she can feel you tensing up, your breathing hitching as you get closer and closer to the edge. she growls encouragingly, her fingers beckoning inside you as her mouth sucks hard on your bundle of nerves. “that's it baby. keep being a good girl for me.”

you reach your climax, riding out your high. she keeps going, drawing out your pleasure until you're boneless and gasping. she slowly eases back, wiping her face with the back of her hand as she grins up at you. “you did so good,” she climbs back up your body, kissing you deeply so you can taste yourself on her.

you kiss her passionately, wrapping your legs around her waist as you cup her face, “i’m sorry baby, i promise i won’t leave you alone like that again,” you promise, still out of breath from the static orgasm.

she deepens the kiss, her hands roaming your body possessively. she breaks the kiss to bury her face in your neck, breathing heavily. “you’re mine, you hear me? no one else gets to touch you like this.”

“i know, i love you.”

“i love you more baby.”

a/n: ok this took forever and it’s still bad but i wanted it to be perfect bc i didn’t like my other fics also new writing style who cheered! nobody. anyway thanks for reading pls pls pls send requests/asks other than just “smut” because that’s literally all i have .. also i used this website to help with words to use for my writing and it works like magic bro😭😭 ok bye yap yap

[mins-fins]

119

&&. unfortunately you aren't as slick as you thought you were.

pairing: lee jeno x gn!reader

genre: fluffity fluff fluff fluff

warnings: sexual jokes, thats it 😚

word count: 1.2k

notes: jj spread the jeno bias disease i literally cant believe this 😭😭 hes so……….im abt to draft another long jeno fic + an smau + another stupid drabble and all of that fun stuff!! dont get it twisted jisung is still my ult though 😒 no ones ever replacing him, anyway this came from a prompt someone sent me, smth about "kissing someone on a ferris wheel" which i just LOVEEEED hello??? okay ik none of you care abt my words, love jeno, love nct dream, pray i get park jisung pcs 😇 good night now <33

you are going to murder na jaemin.

the moment you get off this ferris wheel your throwing up your guts all over his shirt, or punching him in his face, or strangling him to death, whatever. the moment you step off this ride you're making sure he doesn't open his eyes to see the rest of his fellow human beings ever again.

maybe if you were less awkward you'd actually be thanking him, but you take one side glance at the boy beside you and want to smash your head against the glass.

jeno doesn't notice your side glance (and thank goodness he doesn't because you probably would've died if he took so much as a glance at you), he's much too busy glancing at the view from the height your at. you assume that jeno likes ferris wheels, he probably likes them more than you do.

"are you alright?"

you mentally prepare yourself for the voice crack you know might escape your lips. just talk to him like a normal human being, y/n, yeah you're into him and shit but that doesn't mean you can be a weirdo.

"yeah" you finally respond, thank goodness the voice cracks don't come out. "just feeling a little nauseous".

jeno raises an eyebrow. "scared of heights?"

you only manage a curt nod, a nod that makes jeno scoot closer to you, his lips stretching into a smile. "it's alright, i'll protect you".

fuck you lee jeno, fuck you, fuck you, fuck yo—

your somehow able to chuckle, amused by his words. "it's not like i'm dying or anything".

jeno frowns. "so you don't want my protection?"

you pretend to think about it, pressing your lips together as your eyebrows furrow, avoiding eye contact with jeno at all costs. if you look at him, your going to fall and never get up. "i wouldn't be entirely against it".

jeno's shoulder nudges yours, nothing but a small touch that drives you crazy. you wonder if the mini breakdown your having is noticeable, if maybe, he's doing it on purpose, making your heart race to get a kick out of it.

but when you think about it further, it makes you giggle, because this is lee jeno, you could get down on one knee and propose to him yet he'd still be confused by how you feel for him.

if lee jeno knew how you felt for him really, you probably wouldn't have resisted the urge to make out with him on this fucking ride or already.

that was a strange thought, a stupid one even, but it's one manifested from your deepest desires.

when you think about it, though, you wouldn't exactly mind it.

"that's good" jeno snickers at you, eyes examining your face as if it's an interesting exhibit at an art museum. "you need me".

you feign a sigh of irritation. "of course, what would i do without you?"

"you'd die, clearly" jeno replies, tilting his head and reaching over to lace your fingers with his. the cold rings on his fingers feel like glass shards against your fingers, but his soft hands contrast his stabbing rings. "isn't this sort of romantic?"

you choke on your spit.

"romantic? roma— hah! what are you talking about? what is romantic about this?"

soooo natural, y/n.

jeno simply shrugs, suddenly very interested in the view of the carnival from the ferris wheel. "were on a ferris wheel together, stars before us, just the two of us, this would be like.. the perfect date".

you blink, the words making you pause and your head spin. is he serious? is he really serious?

"is this your way of asking me out?"

you manage to ask that without sounding like a pathetic idiot who wanted to hear those exact words, and your response gets the same reaction out of jeno, flushed cheeks with an awkward chuckle accompanying the sight. you would've thought you were a genius if you weren't as flustered as he was.

jeno is speechless, and he fumbles through his speech like someone's holding him at gunpoint or something. "i— no! no! ..maybe? kinda?"

you pause, all your former confidence suddenly withering away, the blood rushing to your cheeks in full force. you laugh, taking his words as a joke, but jeno keeps silent, and so do you.

"are you serious?"

jeno can't speak, so he just nods wordlessly.

you blink, glancing from side to side, this ferris wheel won't be on the ground soon, but at least this makes it a little more bearable. "did you just confess your feelings for me like that?"

"well to be fair—"

"i was supposed to do it first!" you yell in another fit of feigned irritation, your cheeks a color reminiscent of jeno's cherry red shirt. "that's not fair! you beat me to it!"

"well how was i supposed to know you liked me back?"

you scoff, and jeno goes silent again, embarrassed by the question he just asked.

"you're such an idiot lee jeno.."

"can i kiss you?"

the question is a blurt of pure desperation, pure honesty from the deepest corners of jeno's mind, an inquiry he's been dying to ask you ever since he found himself interested in staring at your lips.

you hope you don't faint from the scorching heat radiating off your face.

"it's romantic" he laughs, his best excuse for that random inquiry. "i've always wanted to kiss someone in a ferris wheel, unless you don't want to then—"

you (in the most cliche turn of events) cut jeno off with a kiss. though you'd love to keep your fingers intertwined, you let go of his hand to find purchase on his shoulder, then tug him closer to you with a light jerk. a small squeak emits from him, but he quickly relaxes into the kiss, giggling at your enthusiasm.

though he giggles, he isn't much better off. it's nothing but a small press of the lips, it's not intense or anything, but jeno feels his heart soar. hie face heats to overwhelming heights, and he loops his arm around your waist, pressing you against him, as if the idea of not feeling every part of you would be maddening.

you both are just as desperate as each other, there's no push, just pull. it's a playful competition, your waiting for the other to pull away, stop the kiss because they need breath, it's stubborn in an idiotic way.

but jeno loses your little battle, because he pulls away for air, as red as the sunset in the early morning.

and though you laugh at the sight, you aren't much better off yourself (if the heat continuing to permeate from your face is enough).

"was that romantic enough for you?"

even with how breathless he is, jeno still manages a stupid question.

he squeals when you land a slap on his shoulder.

and while you thought you two were slick about it, considering you were like five feet in the air with nobody to see you, your equally red faces and intertwined hands were enough to get feigned vomits from your friends.

jaemin snickers as he looks between you two, and you glare as you see him open his mouth.

"so what happened up there?"

"clearly they got it on".

upon hearing the words, you let go of jeno's hand to yell and chase after lee donghyuck, who squeals and sprints away, shouting for renjun to help him.

jaemin just sends jeno a knowing look, a look that the older pretends he isn't bothered by.

for once, one of his ploys finally worked.

[sxorpiomooon]

What does your younger self think about you? A pac reading

This reading scared the fucking shit out of me guys had to gather alot of courage to do it. Good luck

Paid readings

Tip me

Pile 1-

I think pile 1's younger self thinks that they have been indulging themselves in something too much for no reason? Like pile 1 has been too impatient. They might think that you might have started to focus too much on the appearance of things I especially see this for yourself too. This pile might be too focused on how they look overall and I see it causing them harm. "Only understanding the cost of things and not their value" is what I heard. This is so cute but I think pile 1's younger self likes how feminine they've become now? For some reason I had a vision of cinderalla. I think this pile's younger self is super excited about them being able to dress up nicely. I think the younger self also thinks that you guys have more resources than you did back then whether it's in the material sense or people but they're very happy with that. For some of you, if you are trying to get pregnant or alr have kids i see your pile being very very excited and happy about that too. The younger self also thinks that you guys tend to walk away from things too early? Oml pile 1 i hope y'all not gambling n shit😭 anyways they think that just when you are about to win, you decide to leave that thing behind. The main message I get is being patient with yourself also heard "my patience leads to perseverance"

Pile 2-

Your younger self is satisfied with how far you've come. Especially in the emotional sense they think that you have reached emotional stability and know your worth and it makes them happy. Also if you are someone who wins a lot of awards and has a pile of awards stacked up perhaps someone who's also athletic, your younger self is very proud. pile 2 has found themselves. I see that you might have had a lot of experiences helping you in gaining wisdom and whatever you needed to be at this level. Your younger self also loves how sensitive you are and how much in touch with your emotions you are. For some of you, i see that you've not turned out how you would've expected yourself to be(in a good way) so even your younger self is surprised. They love how much of a dreamer you are. However I think this pile has a lot of struggles or tests that life or fate puts them through. You might struggle a bit with authority and communication this I see happening bc of not proper communication I think your younger self wants you to have more clarity regarding that.

Pile 3-

Your younger self thinks that you've lost your way and your sight.

"If you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you."

Is something that I heard immediately. Your younger self might think that you are very trapped and alone misguided in this world right now I keep hearing unreal monsters lure for some reason? Your younger self might also think that you have been lied to or taken advantage of by people? However, your younger self also thinks that alot of things are going wrong simply because you are trying to find your way and as long as you make sure to balance everything especially your priority and as I heard "the life that you want" it will all be ok

Pile 4-

Your younger self wants you to live your life and indulge into things and whatever that you like but they also want you to take a few minutes to see the bigger picture of it every time before you make a decision or do something. "Does it really serve me?" Is something that I keep hearing. Having pleasure and fun is nice but it also must be done to a limit. Me and the devil keep playing in my head and I keep hearing ego. Some of you have to keep your ego in check. Brat keeps playing in my head and I'm seeing a dj party for some reason. Your younger self also thinks that either you alr have or you are going to start a new beginning very soon and they seem excited for that bc that might be the path you are meant to follow. They want you to take the leap of faith and have courage in yourself. They also want you to always keep learning and defend yourself when needed

[blueicequeen19]

Stolen & Stuffed

Warnings: public humiliation with a toy, unprotected sex, anal, oral, JJ being a creep 👀🖤

I watch as she stops with a jolt again, squeezing her thighs together as she crosses one ankle over the other. Her hand braces herself on the tree as she grits her teeth with her eyes closed tight until suddenly she straightens again, shooting a dirty look to someone across the party.

Y/N has a toy in and someone is controlling it. I'd bet money on it. And the thought has me harder than I've been in a long time. Especially since I have the sudden urge to claim her while she's horny and desperate before the one with the remote does.

"Need a drink?" I approach her, holding out the cup of beer I just poured from the keg.

"Thanks." She sighs, taking it and downing it as quickly as she can.

"Rough night?" I smirk, taking the cup back when she finishes. Before she can answer, the toy comes alive again because her eyes widen and she grits her teeth as she almost looks at me for help.

"Are you okay?" I half laugh, watching as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other while practically holding her breath.

"I'm--." Her voice has reached a higher pitch until she grits her teeth again, her legs starting to shake. Whoever is doing this is ruthless. She's about to cum in front of me. When she sucks in a sharp breath, the buzzing must stop because she whimpers, letting her shoulders sag as she shoots a glare over my shoulder.

"Do you need anything?" I ask, watching the way her cheeks flush and her tits raise with every rapid breath.

"No." She brushes past me and I smile, smelling her arousal in the air. The rest of the night seems to pass by in a blur as I watch her be tormented over and over again. Never to find her release. My balls have never been more blue and I have a permanent wet spot in my boxers. Why was this so goddamn hot and fascinating?

I don't even realize she's leaving for the night until my legs take me towards her. I lose sight of her until I hear a curse and I glance between two big trucks, seeing her hand under her dress as she tries to yank the toy out. I charge her, removing her hand as I pin her front against a truck door. She's panting, her body trembling with need. I don't even think she's scared.

"Please. I can't take it anymore. Just take it out. Please." She sobs, fisting her dress to reveal her bare ass. Fuck. She's not wearing panties and she's got a great ass.

I keep my forearm against her back as I pull back to examine her, nearly nutting at the sight of the plug in her ass. I wasn't expecting that. Her pussy, yes. But not her ass. This girl just kept surprising me.

"If I take it out, I'm going to fuck it." I growl, pressing my thumb against the jewel. It's not vibrating anymore but the owner hasn't come to collect it yet.

"I don't care. Just do it. Please." A tear trails down her cheek, making me snap. I free my cock in record time before slowly pulling the toy free. I toss it on the ground and quickly reach between her thighs, finding her absolutely dripping. It was running down her thighs and her clit was swollen. Another whine leaves her as I use her arousal to wet my hand then rub it down the length of my cock. I don't waste another minute before pressing inside her pussy, groaning in her ear from the tight fit as she whimpers and curses. She's shaking like a leaf but it doesn't stop her from pushing back against me.

"I'm so close already." She whispers, grabbing the truck mirror for support.

"Good because I'm not going to last very long." I mutter darkly, thrusting into her twice more before pulling out and guiding my slick cock to her waiting asshole.

"Oh--god--." She pants, lifting up on her toes as I push past her tight ring of muscle. The plug readied her but not nearly enough. She was going to hurt tomorrow.

"You want me to fuck your ass?" I growl in her ear, tightening my hold on her waist as I draw her hips back. She hums her anwer, her lips quivering as she pushes back against me, her hair tickling my face as I start to give short, shallow thrusts. I was barely halfway in and about to blow and she wasn't waiting. She was as desperate as I was.

I watch in fasination as she fucks her ass on my cock, faster and faster. I have to clamp a hand down over her mouth as she starts to moan loudly. When I snap my hips forward I feel the moment her body detonates like a bomb. I wrap my arm around her waist as I mold my body to her back, pinning her between me and the truck as I fuck her hard enough to make the truck rock until my knees damn near give out as I cum right along with her.

I don’t stop. I slide my hand down and bury two fingers in her quaking pussy until she’s coming again, her tears wetting my hand. Only when her legs give out do I slow to an agonizing stop, resting my forehead on her shoulder as I stare down to where we are connected.

This was.. other worldly. A whole new high. A greater prize to be stolen. Even if she let me in.

Minutes seem to pass as we try to collect ourselves, my cock still hard inside her while we both pant like we've run a marathon. I slide my fingers over her clit and she jerks, no doubt overstimulated and sensitive. I bring my fingers to my mouth and suck them clean of her cum as she shudders against me.

When I finally do pull out and see the cum dripping from her ass, I realize I'm not done with this girl. Not by a long shot.

I spin her around and drop to my knees, throwing one of her legs over my shoulder as she stares at me with dazed, hooded eyes. I was going to own this girl by the time this was over.

[moonstruckme]

hi okay hi you’ve probably seen me in your notifications for the last twenty minutes because i am absolutely obsessed with the way you write poly!marauders.

i was wondering if you could write something about the (fem)reader who slowly starts dissociating when things get tough and she’s not really present and while they’re concerned, they just show their love for her through caring until she comes back to herself. it’s completely okay if you can’t!!!

Thanks honey, I'm so glad you enjoy my blog! Love the pfp btw, I personally think that was Spence’s best hair. I know everyone experiences dissociation differently so I did some research and I hope this is alright! Many apologies if it’s not accurate

cw: dissociation, brief mention of sexual assault

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 910 words

You’re grateful to Sirius for defending you. You are, but the man’s hand on your ass had caused some deer-in-the-headlights glitch in your brain, and the yelling that ensued only made you retreat further into yourself. You know, distantly, that it’s Sirius’ voice, and that he’s yelling for you, not at you. But it’s all noise to you, a ruckus that means danger, and then there’s movement, and more hands, and everything that would be too much if you weren’t so far away. 

You feel like you’re sitting at the bottom of a swimming pool, everything above the surface of the water muffled and distorted. What happens up there doesn’t concern you. It’s peaceful down here, even if there is a certain wrongness to it. You know you don’t belong here, not really, but you can hold your breath and try to make it last. 

“Baby?” a voice says. “Hey, you okay?”

“Don’t shake her, that’s not going to help.” You can’t tell if it’s another voice or the same. The comfort it brings you doesn't change, and you can’t force yourself to care either way. You can’t care at all, really, about anything. You wonder if you should be worried about that, but feelings are something out of your reach, and maybe it’s better that way. 

“Something’s wrong with her.” 

“I can see that, love. We’re almost home.” 

“You don’t think she’s hurt, do you?”

More hands. You want to flinch away, but it’s like you’re moving through a thick sludge. “You’re alright, dove, I’m just checking that you’re okay. Do you hurt anywhere?”

“Why isn’t she talking?”

“I don’t know. I think…maybe she’s just overwhelmed. I don’t think she’s bleeding anywhere.”

“Fuck. Shit, is this a panic attack? Do you think she needs a doctor or something?”

“Let’s just give her a few minutes.” 

There’s more talking, but you give up on trying to decipher it. After a while, something cushy comes up underneath you, or maybe you go down onto it. Your hand is warm, and then it’s pressed to soft fabric. “Feel my heart going in there, baby? Can you focus on that for me?”

You’ve made such a cozy home for yourself in your head that it takes you some time to realize everything around you has gone quiet. There’s a persistent bumping at your palm. 

“Don’t tight hugs help with panic attacks?”

“We don’t know if that’s what this is. What if it scares her?”

“Hey, angel, can you hear me? Come back to us.” 

The wrongness of where you are is starting to set in, the voices at the surface louder and more insistent. You think that maybe your chest is starting to ache.

Something moves your feet, and then you're touching something interesting. Soft and a bit rough, familiar. Carpet. 

“Breathe, honey. Good. Again. We’ve got you, take your time.” 

You’re conscious of your breaths first, the effort it takes to fill and empty your lungs. Then the plush material under your thighs; you’re sitting on something. Awhile longer, and you realize you’re blinking, your eyes intermittently dry and then not. Eventually you register your hand, pressed to a beating heart. Sirius’ heart. 

You don't try to speak yet as you take in your surroundings. You’re home, on the couch, and someone’s taken off your socks and shoes, your feet bare on the carpet. You don’t know how any of that happened, which is unsettling, but the realization that you can feel unsettled comes with a sharp relief. 

Sirius’ finger swipes over your wrist where he’s gripping your hand to his chest, and your next exhale is shaky. 

“Dove?” Remus’ tone is cautious.

“Sorry,” you say croakily. “I don’t know what that was.” 

Sirius sighs, letting your hand drop from his chest, and Remus grips your ankle from where he sits by your feet, stroking his thumb over your achilles’ tendon in a way that you suspect is as much for him as it is for you.

“Fucking scary, is what it was,” James says, voice thick with tears. “Can I hug you?”

You nod, and his arms come around you with his usual eagerness, though you notice his hands trembling just a little. You squeeze his shoulders tightly. 

“I’m really sorry.”

“Hey, no sorries, okay?” Sirius says, though even he sounds exhausted from what you’ve just put them through. “You obviously couldn’t help it. Do you feel alright now?”

“Yeah,” you say, though you’re unsure. You feel relatively normal at the moment, but the knowledge that you can slip into numbness that easily doesn’t allow for much comfort. “I’m just…really tired, for some reason.” 

Remus hums. “I think your brain was doing a lot of work just now. Makes sense you’d need a rest.” 

James releases you from the hug but only sits back far enough to see your face, his hands lingering at your waist like he’s worried you’ll slip away if he lets go. “Want to cancel dinner and have a night in, sweetheart?”

You nod, your throat closing as warmth rushes to your face. “Yes, please.” 

“Hey,” Sirius says at your tears, voice lightly chiding but full of concern, “what’s wrong? You sure you’re feeling okay?”

“I’m okay,” you promise, swiping under your eyes. “Just, thank you guys for helping me. That was really scary.” 

“I know,” Remus says, palm sliding up your leg as he rises to give you a hug of his own. “I know it was, honey, but you don’t have to worry. We’ve always got you.” 

[msgexymunson]

Forbidden Fruit Part 2

Description: Saying it's been awkward after your experience with Eddie Munson is an understatement. How will you survive a trip together? 

A/N: WELL, you liked the first part so much I had to write part 2! Potential for a part 3 and 4 if you guys want it. If you do y'all better reblog ;) 

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI or I'll tell a teacher on you, a LOT of angst, hella smut, fluff if you squint, voyeurism, spit play, hair pulling, fem oral receiving, p in v unprotected sex (don't be a dumb dumb) rough sex

4k words 

Masterlist  Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

It has been two weeks. Two weeks since your sordid encounter with your Dad's best friend. You thought about it every day, every hour. It has embedded itself into your mind like steel wool, an unscratchable itch that you're almost certain will never go away. 

You'd only seen Eddie twice in that whole time. That was odd in itself, he only lived across the road. He was usually around every couple of days, even if it was to just have a coffee and a chat with your father. It felt very much like he was trying to make himself scarce. 

The first time was barely even a glimpse; he'd been leaving his house as you'd been heading to college, driving there since it was close enough for you to still stay at home. You'd sent him a shy wave which was not returned. He just got in his car and reversed like a demon, tires screeching as he drove down the road. 

The second time you were in the kitchen on your tippy toes, trying to reach the cereal that someone had placed on the top shelf as if to spite you. Feeling eyes on you, you looked around and saw him standing in the doorway. 

"Eddie." 

He ignored it, strode in and grabbed the cereal box with ease, slamming it on the counter in front of you with too much force making you flinch. 

You tried again, fingers lightly resting on his arm. 

"Eddie, I-" 

"Don't." Was all he said, pulling his arm away as if you'd burned him. Tears had stung the corners of your eyes as he left without a look back. You'd abandoned your snack and ran upstairs to your room, to cry in peace. 

So it was no surprise at all when you overheard your Dad saying Eddie was coming over to watch the game and it felt like your stomach dropped out from under you. You hid in your room, not wanting to face another gruff encounter whilst your stomach rumbled its dissent. 

This is fucking stupid. He'd said that was it, you need to get over it. You shouldn't be scared to go into your own damn kitchen. 

Steeling your nerves you go downstairs and start to make yourself a sandwich. You could hear Eddie's laugh echo from the TV room and it twisted a knife in your gut. 

Your dad's voice rang out over the noise of the TV. 

"You free next weekend Eddie?" 

Oh fucking shit. You knew what he was talking about. You pray that Eddie says he's busy. 

"Free as a bird, why what's happening?" 

"Mandy's invited us to her lake house for the long weekend. You fancy a trip?" 

Even from here you can sense Eddie's hesitation. 

"Oh, I'm not sure that's a good idea?" 

"Why? It'll be fun! I'm sure Mandy's got a thing for you, you know." 

"Yeah, sure, I suppose I could come." 

Fuck. 

********************

Cue the most uncomfortable car ride in your life, squashed in the back seat with Eddie and thankfully a duffel bag in between providing a slight buffer. He was hunched in his seat, barely making eye contact with you. 

Your mom turned in the passenger seat to face you. 

"You alright Hon? You've hardly said a word." 

"I'm fine, mom." 

"You know, Jake will probably be there, Mandy's boy?" She waggled her eyebrows at you. 

Rolling your eyes, you reply, "he's a little, young for me." 

"He's a year older than you! I thought you liked him?" 

"He's fine, it's just… he's a boy." And I need a man. One particular man. 

You couldn't fail to hear Eddie's snorting laugh that he tried to disguise as a cough. 

As you arrive at the lake house, you rush out of the car to breathe air that wasn't laced with the scent of Eddie. Your thighs hurt from squeezing them together for the past two hours. 

"Hey! Welcome!" Mandy's waving at you all as you get your bag from the car. 

Your mom runs over and gives her a hug. 

"Hey! So good to see you! Where's Jake?" 

"Oh, he's come down with something, poor boy, he couldn't make it." 

Well, there goes the plan you had wistfully thought of to make Eddie jealous. 

Mandy shows everyone to their rooms. The lake house is gorgeous. Mandy must have gotten some huge settlement from her divorce. Your room is small but comfortable, a double bed, wardrobe and side tables all in a deep wood. The walls are wood panelled too, carvings of little animals and leaves all over. It puts you in mind of being in an enormous cuckoo clock. 

Changing into your swimsuit, you grab a towel and head towards the lake for a swim. 

This felt better. At least you could cool off, trying to escape the heat from the sun as well as the heat between your legs. The water is crisp and cold as you swim until you're shivering. 

As you exit the water, arms tired, you look up to see Eddie on the deck, watching you. 

You need to speak with him, try and clear the air. Moving towards him he stubs the cigarette he'd been smoking out and turns on his heel back to the house. 

Anger started to bubble up, acidic in your throat. How dare he give you the most amazing sex of your life and just throw you away like some slut. You'd eaten in your room that night, feigning exhaustion. 

Tip toeing out to grab a drink from downstairs thinking everyone had gone to bed, you hear the tinkle of laughter. 

There he was, sitting on the couch with Mandy. She was fawning over him pathetically, her hand stroking his arm that rested on the back of the seat. 

Great. Just great. Now he'll fuck Mandy and get married and live right opposite you with her. Fantastic. 

Grabbing a water you flounced off to bed in a huff. 

********************

Sitting up at the breakfast bar, you'd plastered your bravest face on and ate some pancakes, cutting them into little pieces and nibbling like a rabbit. 

Eddie sauntered in, saying good morning to everyone, then he was taking a seat on the bar stool opposite you. 

"Morning sweetheart." 

You flashed angry eyes at him, and looked away, delivering a clipped "morning." 

It was enough to shut him up. He filled a plate with pancakes and bacon, picking up a rasher and tearing into it with his teeth. Then he did the same with a pancake, ripping it into four and shoving a piece in his mouth.  

He looked like a caveman. It was half amusing, and half a turn on. Watching him eat like an animal was doing something for you. 

Mandy looked less amused. 

"Um, there is cutlery, right there." She snipped. 

"I know." He ignored the knives and forks, picking up the next piece of bacon and plunging it into his mouth. Your mom and dad shared an amused look. 

He licked bacon grease off his fingers while looking straight at you, making your cheeks rapidly grow in heat. All you could think was that you wanted to wrestle that piece of bacon out of his mouth with your tongue, to smear your greasy lips together and have him throw you down on the counter top and fuck you until you see stars. 

"Just going to get ready." You mumble, excusing yourself. 

God damn why am I so wet? A shower, that'll help. 

You stand under the stream of slightly too cold water and try to wrench the images away, but they are coming thick and fast. 

Greasy fingers running over your skin. That tongue turning you into a whimpering mess. Plates smashing on the floor, food flying everywhere as he lifts you on the counter top and fucks you like an animal. The shower head was looking extremely tempting right now. 

Right, get it out of your system, then face the day. 

You unclip the shower head and turn the heat up slightly, moving the warm stream of water to your expectant lips. The water makes you gasp as you move the shower head around, finding your clit with a whimper. 

And then the door flies open. Eddie stands there, frozen, face blushed the deepest pink. 

You shout, "don't you know how to knock??" At the same time Eddie's rather hoarse voice yells "are you trying to kill me??" 

Quickly exiting, he slams the door shut. 

You hear your father call up to ask what's wrong. Eddie's muffled voice responds. 

"Nothing, I just made your daughter jump." 

The clipped emphasis on the word daughter rings in your head. You're unsure for whose benefit that was. 

Am I trying to kill him? He's the one that barged in on me!! Why the fuck is he upset? 

For the rest of the day you ignore him, opting to spend some quality time with your mom, attempting to push the weird encounter out of your head. 

In the evening your parents announce they are going into town to a bar with Mandy. 

"Eddie, you coming?" Your dad asks. 

"No, I'm good, got a headache. Think I'll have an early night." 

When everyone leaves you retire to your room, putting on some music and reading a book. You start to drift away, losing yourself in the words, feeling comfortable and less on edge. 

There's a soft knock at the door. Ignoring it, you flick to the next page. Another, more insistent knock. Huffing and pulling your silk dressing gown around you, making sure everything important is covered, you shout out.

 "Yeah?" 

The door opens, and Eddie's standing there, looking very sorry for himself. He's only wearing a pair of sweatpants slung low on his hips, muscular frame and tattoos fully displayed. 

"Can I come in?" 

"So you can knock. What do you want?" 

"Look, I want to apologise to you, I've been acting like an asshole."

You nod in agreement, eyes going back to your book, words a blur.

"You really have a headache?" 

"No." 

"Shame."  

"Mandy kissed me last night, invited me back to her room." 

Why the fuck is he telling you this? 

"Oh yeah? how was she?" You spit back, venom lacing each word. 

"I wouldn't know, I didn't go." 

Speechless, you return his gaze. He comes into your room, shutting the door behind him, but doesn't move any further. 

"Sweetheart, I can't stop thinking about you, about what we did. I've been fucking my fist like a teenager thinking about you. That's why I've been avoiding you. I smelled your perfume the other day and I got fuckin' hard. You weren't even there. It's pathetic." 

A small smile creeps onto your face, smug to have had such an effect on him. You sit on the edge of the bed, leaning back on your hands as he explains further. 

"I really want you, but we can't do this. It's so wrong. If your dad finds out I'm a dead man." 

"Hey, he'll kill me too!" You respond. 

"No sweetheart. He'd be disappointed in you. I'd be blamed for it. For- for defiling his daughter!" 

You laugh out loud at that and his lips quirk into a nearly smile. 

"You make it sound like you forced yourself on me. I kissed you first." 

"True, but I asked. If I hadn't-" 

"Eddie, trust me, sooner or later, I would have jumped your bones." 

"Really?" He asks, surprised. 

"Really. You're super hot." You admit.

His hand rubs the back of his neck compulsively. You see the nerves then, etched into his features, deepening the fine lines on his face. 

Just his sheer presence is making your pussy pulse. 

He walks over to you, standing over your form. Staring up at him, he looks like he wants to devour you whole. 

"We can't do this, you know." He says again, but his hand is reaching to the tie of your dressing gown, pulling it undone. The flimsy fabric parts down your middle, showing a sliver of skin from your chest to your navel. 

You nod back, breath hitching in your throat. "Yeah, we really shouldn't." 

You let the dressing gown slip over your shoulder, exposing your left side, pert breast on display. Eddie groans. 

"This is wrong." But his hand has other plans, sliding the other side off of your shoulder, so you're sitting there completely naked for him, gown pooling around your back. 

"Yep. Super wrong. Naughty." You say, legs parting slightly. Eddie's smirk is debaucherous as he sinks to his knees in front of you, pulling your legs even wider. 

Preamble forgotten, he forces his head between your legs and licks a fat stripe up your cunt. Throwing your head back at the onslaught of his tongue, you dig your heels into his back, forcing him closer if it were even possible. 

"How the fuck," he says between dirty kisses to your clit, "do you taste so fucking good?" 

He doesn't seem to want an answer, and you're entirely not in the position to provide one. You just mewl and buck into his face pathetically, lacing your fingers into his hair and gripping on. 

His tongue is everywhere, devouring you. It's messy, messier than you ever thought getting head could be. You could feel his spit and your own juices dripping down the crevice of your ass. 

Legs quivering, you moan wantonly, gripping onto him with everything you have. He's moaning into you, almost as loud as you were. 

Then he's pressing the flat of his tongue against your clit, his firm hands gripping your ass, grinding your body against his face. The pure, unbridled need pouring from him had you toppling over that edge.

"Holy fucking shit, Eddie!" 

The intensity and power of your orgasm shocks you to your core, spilling out in a slew of profanities, limbs twitching uncontrollably. 

Eddie doesn't stop licking into you until you drag him away by his hair.

Eddie's face is a picture, dripping with slick; his smile is broad, lighting up his face as if he'd just been to heaven and tasted the finest ambrosia. 

He leans over you, hooking one finger into your mouth, pulling at your jaw. 

"Open." 

Your jaw flops open at his command. He spits then, directly into your mouth. Eyes widening in surprise, you taste the savoury edge of his spit intermingled with the sweet tang of your cunt as it slides down your tongue. 

"Swallow." He orders, eyes dark. 

You close your lips around his finger, swallowing hard and sucking the tip of his finger. 

"Fuck you are perfect, my dirty fucking girl." He says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

You moan at his words, breath speeding up, feeling dizzy and hot all over. 

"You like that don't you? Being a dirty girl?" He smirks. 

"I like being yours." You admit, feeling slightly bashful.

He cups your face gently with his hand, a queer look in his eye, before leaning towards your ear and whispering, "mine." 

Writhing under him, pinned by his body, you can only whimper as he sinks teeth into your neck. 

Pushing a needy tongue in your mouth, he gives you an earth shattering kiss, of salt and cigarettes and sweetness. You reciprocate, hands running over naked flesh as you push your chest against him.

 "I need you. Now." He says as he climbs off, frantically pulling his sweatpants off and flinging them to the side, his impressive member standing almost painfully to attention. 

You give a startled yelp as he grabs you by the ankles and flips you over. 

"Hands and knees for me, my good girl." 

You scramble on all fours, waiting for the breach of his tip, when you feel his thumb press on your asshole. 

"Fuck, Eddie!" You shout. It had made you jump, but you couldn't deny that you liked it. 

"Bet you'd let me fuck you in the ass if I asked sweetheart." Entirely unprepared for that, you whip your head around. He just laughs. 

"Don't worry, not tonight baby." He says as he rubs his tip over your folds, spreading your wetness even further. 

Then he's pushing and pushing into you, balls deep. You both let out a groan of satisfaction as he starts ploughing into you hard and rough.  

"This pussy is fuckin unreal," you hear him mutter behind you, gripping on your hips so tight its bordering on painful. You allow yourself to be used, pushing back into him as much as you can, but it's impossible keeping up with his brutal pace. 

Feeling your hands stiff against the bed,  your elbows are shaking, on the edge of giving up. You feel Eddie's hand gather your hair in a makeshift ponytail and twist it in his hand, pulling you upright. A lightning bolt shoots down your spine at the animalistic gesture. 

He's now hitting that sweet spot inside you on each thrust, the slapping of skin and slick echoing through the room with your pornographic moans. 

"Oh God, Eddie, I'm gonna come-" 

"No, no please," he slows, letting go of your hair, making you fall to the bed. 

"I need to see it, I need to see you. Turn around." 

You turn, feeling him slip out of you, and shove him to the side, hard. It takes him entirely by surprise and he falls onto his back, hands up as if he's afraid he did something wrong. 

Taking his shock as an opportunity you clamber on his lap, gripping his swollen cock hard at the base, lining him up with your entrance. Eddie's look of surprise turns into a lecherous grin, hands resting on your waist. 

Sitting on him, sheathing him once again within your silky walls, you look him in the eye.

"How dare you mess with my orgasm again." Your words are hard, but you're smiling. 

He laughs, rubbing at your hips. 

"Oh I'm sorry, my poor sweetheart," words positively dripping sarcasm, complete with pouting lower lip. Clenching around his cock, you struggle to even register that him mocking you is such a turn on.

You push at his chest with one hand, and start grinding into him, firm and slow. Eddie looks like he's about to bust already at your movements, eyes darting from your own, to your tits, to your cunt. 

"What- what were you thinking of? In the shower?" His words have a quiver to them, a flash of pride bursts across your chest at the fact you're doing this to him, getting him in such a state.

"I was thinking," you say breathlessly, "about tongue wrestling that bit of bacon out of your mouth and you fucking me on the kitchen counter." 

"Fuuuck" He replies, eyes rolling back, "you are something else." 

All of a sudden it's hitting just right. You don't feel like you'd moved but it's definitely different. Your whole body is buzzing with sensation as you roll your hips against him. Needing to grip onto something, anything, you don't risk changing the angle and instead twine your fingers into your own hair. 

"Oh my God, oh fuckfuckfuck!" 

Eddie's mouth hangs open as he watches you unravel. You feel your entire body pulse out what may be the best orgasm of your life. It rolls in waves around you, over you, through you. Grinding down hard, you keep it going. And going. Until it stops, or nearly stops. It's as if you are looking down at that edge yet again, on the brink of falling off. 

"Fuck Eddie don't you dare move," you struggle out, rubbing over him, juices squelching obscenely with each thrust of your hips. He's beyond words, just biting his lip and nodding. 

"Oh fuck I'm gonna come again, oh!" 

Screaming into the night, it forces out of you again, almost as powerful as the last one. Your whole body is shaking like a leaf, completely stunned. Realising you're still gripping into your hair, you let go, feeling a sting on your scalp. 

"Holy shit." You laugh out, limbs convulsing of their own accord. 

"That was, fuck sweetheart, that's the hottest thing I've ever seen in my life." 

You smile, fingers stroking up and down his chest. 

"Think you can give me one more?" He asks, eyebrows raising. 

"Eddie, I don't-" 

"Shh, sweetheart, just one more, I'm gonna come, come with me." 

You begin to grind, moving against his length once more, clit dragging across slickened hair making you whimper. Your legs are protesting but you want to give it to him. 

He helps you, hands on your hips dragging you back and forth, praising every thrust. 

"That's it baby." 

"Just a little more." 

"You can take it." 

"My good sweet girl." 

Until you release again, together, wetness squirting out of you, voice hoarse with a stuttered moan that seemed to bubble up from deep inside your chest cavity. Eddie groans out, hissing at the feeling as he releases his cum deep into your cunt. 

Melting, a puddle of a woman, your body pours over his, bones a distant memory. 

"I think my soul left my body for a minute there," you murmur into his sweaty neck. His laugh rumbles from his chest and vibrates into yours, hand resting sweetly on the back of your head. 

Both laying there for a minute, you know what needs to happen, but you're loath to admit it. Reality is looming and neither of you want to look it in the eye. 

Eddie breaks the spell. 

"I need to go sweetheart," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"I know." You whisper back. Neither of you move. 

"Did you mean it?" You ask, voice as small as you can muster. 

"What?"

"That I'm yours?" 

You feel Eddie's breath, the silence stretching just a little too much. You stop breathing in anticipation. Finally, he responds. 

"Yes. Yes I meant it." 

Masterlist

Tag List (If you want to stay on the list, please reblog!)

@hereforshmut @g4ys0n @winchester-angel @eddiemunson95 @corrodedcoffincumslut @shazzie33 @severusswife @daluamaia1 @callsignraver @lightvixxen @newlips @eddiethefreakkmunson @hollster88 @ali-r3n @bebe07011 @roanniom @eddiesprincess86 @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

[avocado-writing]

AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH

*eats your words*

no but seriously, your writing has me kicking my feet when I’m supposed to be typing an essay 😞‼️ I was wondering if you could do some headcanons for the companions x monk! Tav who, when being confessed to, Tav responds with “it’ll pass”?

basically fleabag inspired 😍‼️ please and thank you! stay safe n warm 🔫

OH GOD HEARTBREAKING i tried to make it have a happy ending tho!!! enjoy! and I'm so glad that you enjoy my writing! (mild nsfw mentions)

writing as if you're saying this because you think you wouldn't be the best option for their future, one way or another, and want to try and soften the blow for them by replying like this. you only want them to be happy and you're scared it can't be with you.

Astarion

you cup his face, and the look in your eyes is so, so sad.

you think perhaps your simple nomadic lifestyle will not be enough for him. you love him, you do, but he needs someone more modern. more cosmopolitan.

when you tell him it will pass you see a myriad of expressions cross his face: sadness, confusion, anger... but finally, resolve.

he takes your hand in his, firmly.

"my heart. I know when things will pass, and when they won't. my love for you is not some trifle, a fashion to be abandoned like it would go out of style. I mean it. I can make my own decisions, and I have decided where I want to be. It's with you."

he reaches out to embrace you. you're surprised, but let him do it anyway, and you bury your face into his neck to hide your emotions.

maybe, just maybe, you were wrong.

you hold him tighter than ever that night.

Gale

you're worried he is too smart for you. that he will get bored of you, and the idea breaks your heart.

you tell him "it'll pass" when he confesses because you're scared.

seems actually offended that you'd tell him his love for you might be fleeting.

"there are things which will span the ages. stories, gods, heroes. my love for you is one of them. I do not confess that lightly. you are a beacon of hope in my life, love... and that will never fade."

goes on for some time afterwards about how committed he is and how much he loves you, until eventually you accept that he's not going anywhere.

bloody wizards, so good with their words...

fall asleep that night after having the most intimate lovemaking session, all about feeling each other's breath and heartbeats.

he is here to stay, forever.

Wyll

wyll deserves someone amazing. someone who could handle his life if he became duke, and you're scared you'll let him down.

when you tell him 'it'll pass' he is hurt, and leaves the conversation for a moment. you think perhaps it is for the best. you don't need this to cause any more pain.

but later he comes to find you and asks if he can have a private moment. you find out he wasn't hiding from you but preparing: he has a little intimate picnic set up where you can sit and be alone.

when you're comfortable he tells you about how deep his love is, how fate has thrown you together.

"there is nothing about how i feel about you that could pass. nothing."

to prove his point, he slips to his knee, and that is when he proposes.

you're overcome with emotion. you have to accept how committed to you he is, and work out if you deserve something as fierce as his love.

there are tears in your eyes when you accept. you never think his love will pass again.

Karlach

probably the hardest one to say this too. together, your future is so uncertain. it will be easier to break it off here rather than maim both of you.

gets angry. in fact, goes into a rage. tears up the surroundings, and for a moment you're taken aback--

but then she turns and she's sobbing, stuck at the midpoint between being apoplectic and brokenhearted.

"you don't get to decide that for me! you don't! you're the first person i've loved... I've touched... I've felt anything for, for a fucking decade! when i feel this, it doesn't fade! how dare you think about yourself like that? as if you're some sort of phase?"

eventually she calms down enough but bursts into tears instead. you go to hold her and she embraces you so tightly that the wind is knocked from your body.

"i love you. i won't leave you. don't leave me." her voice is tiny.

how could you ever say no? how could you ever doubt her?

when the two of you are in Avernus, you're reminded of this moment, and so glad she fought against it. you'd trade this away for nothing.

Lae'zel

would she want someone like you? long term? she's so brave, so fierce. what if you're not good enough? what if your relationship develops only for you to let her down?

she gets angry too, but quieter.

is furious that you would question her affection.

"githyanki do not give their devotion lightly. the fact that you think my love for you could pass makes me wonder how well you know me."

it turns into an argument where you try and explain your side, and she's angry at you for thinking this way.

eventually it descends into angrily making out. some fierce lovemaking. her saying how much she loves you, possesses you, between every bite and kiss.

you lie in the afterglow. she says she will not leave, and pretty much tells you that you won't either. you agree, and tangle your hand with hers.

Shadowheart

tries to hide how hurt she is.

yes, Shar is the lady of loss, but the idea of losing you... of not having you in her life? unthinkable.

you only tried to tell her it will pass so that, if she wishes to become a dark justiciar, she will have no lingering attachment to you after.

and yet...

it is blasphemy for her, but she refuses to let you go.

"no. i won't allow it. i can't believe this will fade between us. you are the most precious thing to me. stay."

you're weak for her, end up tumbling into bed, reconfirming your love for each other.

you never quite believe that this is forever until she changes her hair, embraces selune. then your heart is full of joy. and it is full of Shadowheart.

[luvz-me]

being at the last year of your sports medicine university course abroad in america was like a dream come true. but in all honesty you just wanted it to be over and quick. the prospect of having to intern at a random clinic for three months wasn't appealing at all. you made sure to send your cv to different physiotherapy clinics, gyms, sports clubs but still no answer.

watching all your colleagues start earlier than you was discouraging until one afternoon, after watching 2 boring movies a guy at a club told you to watch last night you got a call.

someone with a very poised voice starts talking almost immediately, "good afternoon, i'm speaking on behalf of the sports clinic and i was wondering if you'd be available for an interview tomorrow morning regarding your internship application?"

you almost envied the way there wasn't any hint of nervousness in their voice. it was almost immediate the way you accepted the offer, in all honesty you just wanted to get it over with.

you started your internship there after almost a week until one day, by the evening you witnessed something you never thought you would. tashi fucking duncan walking in the clinic right as you were about to leave. you felt your stomach turn, not in the bad way, but in the - what the fuck, did i hit my head somewhere and wake up in an alternate universe? - way. your anxiety making you want to throw up seeing one of the people you wrote countless essays about stand before you.

"i'm looking to book a sports physician. medium term for art donaldson, need them to be able to come in-house monday through friday." you heard her say to the receptionist, blunt yet always polite. one of your idols standing just a few meters away from you made you weak at the knees. you were aware the clinic was well frequented but you never thought she'd be in your sight ever.

you looked at your nails, pondering if you should start biting them, regaining a bad habit just because you found yourself in a situation you couldn't control sounds very much like you but tashi probably would think that's gross so you stop.

a client you had been assigned to arrives and you curse yourself out for not being able to keep listening to the conversation anymore. the day never ended. each glance you took at the clock just seemed like you were stopped in time. sighing while helping the elder woman stretch her upper body and muttering some words of praise, explaining to her that she'd have to keep coming for at least one more week so the pain could dissipate. you flashed her a smile as she got up and said goodbye, thanking you endlessly for helping her ease the pain.

your supervisor had been watching you. giving some criticism on this session with the client. as you were about to leave she pulled you aside and informed you that starting tomorrow you'd be going to tashi duncans house.

everything inside was pristine, you were even scared to even lean against the furniture in fear you'd somehow break it. tashi had given you a quick house tour, her heels clacking on the hardwood floors as she warmed you up to her, occasionally telling jokes about herself and saying you reminded her of herself. when she was in college. you didn't really know what that meant but you decided to take it as a compliment, nervously fidgeting your fingers. art was nowhere to be seen up until you reached the gym area.

standing there, broad shoulders scrolling through his phone, distracted and flashing a smile towards his wife once she clears her throat and wraps an arm around his shoulder. introducing you to each other and leaving promptly, saying she had a meeting with her pr team and that she'd be back at 8 pm.

you swallow dry. standing there awkwardly with your backpack on your shoulders.

"so.. umm were gonna start with wall angels maybe. tashi told me thats your problem area right now" you blurted out, trying to sound as professional as possible "just. place your arms against the wall in a 90 degree angle and slowly straighten them"

art follows suit, standing against the wall awkwardly moving his arms up and down before asking "how old are you?" breaking the silence

"i'm 21" you mutter in surprise analysing his form and his toned shoulders, and arms.. and muscles. eyes narrowing trying to remind yourself that this is not one of your hookups, this is art fucking donaldson and you're here for an internship. at his house. in his fancy home gym. hes not yours to admire. "why?"

"ah.. just wanted to know" art shrugs, looking at you intently. he gets up suddenly, yet his movements are deliberate. you feel the knot tighten in your stomach, your pulse quicken as i looked at the man before me. "can you show me how to do it properly?" his voice drops to a lower tone and all you can do for a few seconds is flutter your lashes at him

"but this is pretty easy already, i don't know how to ex-"

"i said, i want you to show me" art cuts you off, his gaze literally burning through your skull

art mirrors your movements, his eyes never leaving yours. you hope he doesn't notice the slight tremble in your hands.

"like this?" he asks, his voice even softer now, almost a whisper.

you nod, your breath hitching. "yes, just like that. make sure to keep your back flat against the wall."

he follows your instructions, his body inching closer. you can feel the heat emanating from him, a stark contrast to the cool, clinical setting of the gym. there's a tension in the air, a charged silence that makes your heart race.

"you're good at this," he murmurs, his eyes darkening with an emotion you can't quite place

your cheeks flush, the compliment catching you off guard. "i appreciate that, mr. donaldson."

he moves closer, his body now just inches from yours. you can feel the magnetism between you, a pull that's impossible to ignore. his hand reaches out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. the gesture is tender, almost too intimate for your professional setting. "it's art, yeah? call me art, i don't want to feel like an old fart" he grins

"i should… i should check your shoulder alignment," you stammer, trying to regain some semblance of professionalism. "you're a bit tight here," you say, your voice trembling slightly. "let me help you."

you guide him through a series of stretches, your hands lingering a bit longer than necessary on his shoulders, his back. the room feels smaller, the air thicker with each passing moment.

the session was over. finally. you gathered your things and slid your backpack over your shoulders. art's gaze is still on you and it's impossible not to feel it "are you in a hurry to leave?"

"umm, no i just. no im not in a hurry" you smile "just don't want to bother you anymore" your breath catches in your throat

"i was hoping we could talk a bit more. get to know each other better." he smirks. what the fuck "tashi told me some things about you but i think one on one conversation is far better" grabbing your hand and guiding you to a small resting area at the gym engaging in some superficial conversation about you while tracing circles in the back of your hand. you can't help but sigh. his hands becoming more and more pervasive, touching your thighs, reaching up up up until he's close to your crotch. a slight whine escapes your mouth. you're not focusing on the conversation at all.

"art, this is not-"

"tashi doesn't have to know" he replies knowing tashi knows damn well. hell, she even planned this for him. it wasn't her intention to scout a pretty little physiotherapist like you at first. but you were at the right place, at the right time. the moment she took a glance at you she knew she had to have you. it was a plus art needed help with his shoulders. his hands roaming on the waistband of your tight leggings, your mouth parting with a sigh. sigh that he takes as opportunity to crash his lips against yours. your eyes narrow at first and for a second you try to pull back but you don't really want to.

his fingers edging closer to your panties, the tightness of the leggings increasing the skin on skin contact. "aw you look so pretty with your lips parted. you wanna take my fingers in you don't you huh?" now hovering over you, caressing you over your top "fucking corrupt that little head of yours"

you can't help but let out a moan that sends him over the edge. sliding your leggings down caressing you over your panties. before pushing two fingers inside your mouth for you to suck. "you want this don't you baby?"

"mhm" you nod trying your hardest not to bite him when he uses his opposite hand to caress your sensitive nub. furrowing your eyebrows trying your hardest not to grab his arm. his calloused fingers leaving your plump mouth suddenly and making a 'pop' sound "but tashi might" cut off by the pads of his fingers circling your clit

"tashi doesn't mind" his voice hungry "im just helping you out yeah? we're just getting acquainted" one of his fingers teases your entrance slowly entering earning a sharp wince from you. the unfamiliar feeling slowly turning into pleasure as he slid it in and out "open your eyes f'me, let me see those pretty eyes"

you bite your lip staring at his face as he does such a lewd thing to you, and you let him. knowing he has a wife. somehow this made it even more arousing. whats wrong with you? "gonna add one more finger, fuck you're so tight around me, so good. i bet that clit would feel so good around my tongue" small tears cornering around your eyes. the soft noises leaving your lips only encouraging him to keep going.

"feels good huh baby?" he coos, his face edging closer and closer to your clit as your hips rise, only to stop once you're about to cum. abruptly sliding your panties back up along with your leggings.

this earns him a well deserved mewl. edging you like this. stopping when you were just so so close was just so mean of him. looking up at him just to see him lick your juices off his fingers, feeding them to you. "suck" he commands "don't be mad, i just need to make sure you come back for more sessions" fixing your hair and picking up your backpack from where you left it on the gym floor

[whore-ibly-hot]

Yan!Bully x Reader x Yan!Freak Pt 2

"Boys Night Plus One."

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Bullying, name calling, degradation, violence, non-consensual photos, nonconsensual touching, male pronouns for the yans, mentions of school, general perversion, toxic behaviors, creep behavior, cum, masturbation, male and female genitalia.

Part 1 here

(AN: This one is for you, anon who sent me a bullet-point list of some ideas for Ahmed and Patrick which were better than anything I could have come up with. I love you.)

You groan, struggling to yank off the cotton top you had taken to wearing for PE class. You had been sick for a week or so, and in order to stay up on your grades you had been doing classwork after school. Today, you are making up some time for gym class using the school's exercise facilities. Once you finally get it off, you unlock your locker and put your gym clothes inside, reapplying your deodorant and putting on your school shirt. Just as you shut your locker, you hear the door of the girl's locker room flap shut, and you perk up at the sound. That's odd, after a few days of working out after school, you've never run into anyone else using the facilities.

"Hello?" You call out, peering around the row of lockers. Suddenly, a fist slams into the locker behind you, making you shriek. You whip around, to see Patrick, the schools most notorious bully laughing his ass off at how spooked you got. "Patrick!" You yell, smacking him lightly. "Ooh, feelin' fiery, huh?" He takes a breath, calming himself after laughing so hard. "What's got you so pissed off?" You roll your eyes.

"You scared me, and you're in the girls locker room!" He fakes shock, and looks around. "Really, the girls locker room? Huh, wonder how I wound up here..." He muses, playfully leaning up against the lockers. "If it was the boys locker room, why would I be here?" You ask. He shrugs. "I don't know, maybe you were tryna' sneak a peek at some dudes after football practice." He grins, leaning over you a little more. "Or maybe you wanted one of them to sneak a peek at you." You blush, and push him away. "Go away, Patrick, there's no reason for you to be here right now." You try to quickly gather your things, and make your way to the door.

"Woah, woah, hey, where ya' going? I'm just checking on you. You haven't been to class lately, I was getting worried." He uses your moment of surprise to grip your wrist and gently pull you back over. "I was sick, just needed some time away from class. Why does that matter to you?" You ask, confused. He's always enjoyed tormenting you, and you would think you were special if he didn't also torment everyone else. Of course, Patrick knows where you've been, because he's had Ahmed posted outside your bedroom for the duration of your absence, both to get photos and make sure you aren't hanging out with anybody else. He shrugs again. "I missed seeing you in these." He reaches into your gym bag, gripping one of the pairs of gym shorts and pulling them out. "Y'know, I don't think these follow the dress code..." Admittedly, you needed to get some new shorts. These ones were small, but you just hadn't gotten around to buying new ones. "Gym class is already fuckin' boring, especially when I can't see your sweet little ass bent over, trying to do toe-touches or yoga or whatever the fuck we're supposed to in that sweaty shit-hole."

You only blush and grab the shorts from him, stuffing them back into your bag. "Well, I'm sure you managed fine without me. There's plenty of girls to perv on that aren't me." You whimper. Patrick chuckles, and shakes is head. "Yeah, but I don't want any of them." He pauses, then clicks his tongue. "That reminds me though, I did make a friend while you were gone. I had a lot of free time since you weren't around to play with." You glance up at him. "Another member of your gang?" You ask. The last thing this school needs is even more assholes hanging out with Patrick. "Nope. It's someone I knew before you left, but I've made amends with them. Patched things up, self-improved." He brags. He looks down at you smugly. "You should be proud of me, I'm a changed man."

"What do you mean?" You aren't sure what previous acquaintance he's referring to. Due to Patrick's widespread terror, it could be pretty much anyone. "You know that new kid, Ahmed?" Your mouth opens in shock. You had heard things about the new boy, with dark hair and wide eyes. You had noticed him a few times in English class. He was always quiet, only occasionally speaking when he was being picked on by the other kids, quietly protesting the abuse. You had traded poetry a few times for an assignment. He seemed very creative. You weren't really sure why the other kids picked on him so much, but you suspected it was because Ahmed was Patrick's new favorite. You had heard of the things he'd done to Ahmed, robbing him, beating him, stealing his classwork. You didn't do anything, how could you? Patrick hated when people stood up to him, and you didn't want his attention on you anymore than it was.

"You're... friends with him now." Patrick nods. "That's cruel, Patrick. You can't do all that stuff to somebody, then force them to play friends with you. It's not right!" You exclaim, boldly defying him for a moment. He only exhales lightly, and puts his hands up in surrender. "You got it all wrong, baby. We are friends, me and him. We've made amends. I told you, I'm changing. I'm a reformed juvenile." He looks up to see if you're buying it. He pouts when he notices you still seem skeptical. "Alright, I guess I'm not 'reformed', exactly, but me and him really are friends now." You only nod, hoping he will drop it and go away. This reaction makes him scoff. "You still don't believe me? Fine, I'll tell you what. I'm going over to see Ahmed at his house tonight, to hang out. Why don't you come with me?" He offers.

You shake your head no quickly. "I'm not going anywhere with you, Patrick." You exclaim. "Well, if you do go, and see me and him are friends, you'll know I'm not such a bad guy, and you might like my new friend. If you don't go though..." He chuckles lowly. "Me and this guy may not be friends... and by not going, your risking this kid getting beat up in his own home. Do you want that on your conscience?" You bite your lip, but shake your head. "No, you don't. I could handle that, but you couldn't, pretty thing. So come on, grab your shit and head over there with me, alright?" You make no movements, and Patrick groans, grabbing your gym-bag. "Fine, since I told you I'm changing, and I'm a gentleman, I'll carry your stuff." His free hand grabs your wrist. You both walk out of the school doors towards the bus stop. As you stand waiting for the bus, he leans in, his lips almost brushing your ear. "We're taking the city bus, and it's late enough that it's gonna be crowded." You nod, not sure where he's going with this. "Lots of hard working people want a seat, and we should give it to them. Being good members of the community and all that shit." He sighs. "So whether or not there's a free seat for you, I expect that ass on my lap for the whole ride, you feel me?" You blush, and look at him with wide eyes. He chuckles, leaning back from your ear. "Gotta save some room for everyone else. Besides, I'm plenty comfortable."

Ahmed is sitting on his bed, foot bouncing at a pace so rapidly it practically shakes his whole scrawny form. He stares at the clock, counting the seconds until Patrick shows up. He promised, promised he'd have a way of getting you here. After weeks and weeks of photographing you from a distance, Patrick promised he would finally get to be near you, talk with you. Ahmed wasn't exactly sure how Patrick was going to accomplish this, but he knew given his reputation it would be easier for Patrick to get a hold of you than him. He just hoped whatever Patrick did, it wouldn't be as severe as what he endured before Patrick and him entered a truce. He didn't want you in his house for the first time, scared and unsure why you were brought there. No! He wanted his new house guest to be comfortable. His room was dark, with books, figures, and posters strewn about. He did his best to make it homey though. He opened the curtains, cleaned out any trash, (hid his camera and photo collection). He was sure Patrick was going to laugh at him for all this, seeing as Patrick had seen the state his room was in before. Ahmed shakes his head. He wasn't worried about Patrick right now. No, he was ready to see you, talk with you. Maybe... maybe even get to touch you.

The door creaks, and Ahmed hears footsteps approaching. Heavy boots, followed by the light patter of smaller feet. He bites his lip to the point it almost breaks skin. Patrick had done it. You were waiting just outside his room.

He hops back onto his bed, trying to look as casual as possible as the blonde menace he now called a friend traipsed in, with you behind him. "Ahmed... looks like you cleaned up a little in here. Huh." Patrick looks around, hands in his pockets as he leans against Ahmed's bed frame. "Ahmed, I believe you know my new friend." Patrick motions at you. Ahmed nods quickly. "Uh, yeah. We have an English class together." He says. "It's nice to actually meet you Ahmed, you and Patrick are-" You sigh. "Friends?" Ahmed nods. "Yeah, we actually have a lot in common..." He chuckles, shrugging. "Crazy, huh?" He coughs awkwardly. You nod, still not fully convinced.

"See, baby? I told ya' there's nothing shifty going on here! Me and Ahmed are just best buds." Patrick flops onto Ahmed's bed, bouncing the boy up a little as he wraps an arm around him, his grip rough on Ahmed's shoulder. 'Best buds' wasn't really a term Ahmed would use, especially considering two days ago Patrick was pounding Ahmed into this very bed, making the scrawny outcast cry and beg for his cock to go just a little deeper, just a little faster to give him that relief. Of course, Patrick was a jerk, and didn't let him reach that peak for at least three hours into the session, when Ahmed's parents came home. Patrick enjoyed making the boy finally cum on his cock, while trying to muffle his cries knowing his parents were just downstairs.

"So, w-would you like to watch a movie, or play a game? I've got Mario Kart, and Mortal Kombat-" Ahmed lists off a few more games, hoping something would catch your attention and endear him to you. You smile awkwardly, but shake your head. You hadn't really planned on staying, considering you were so sure that Patrick was just tormenting this poor boy. "I actually should get going, it's a Friday night, I don't want to intrude on your boys time." You move to grab your gym stuff, and Ahmed's face falls. He looks at Patrick, glancing at you and silently begging Patrick to do something. Anything, just to keep you here longer. "Calm down, I'll fuckin' handle it." Patrick whispers, before running a hand through his hair and turning back to you. "C'mon, baby! We don't mind you hanging out. Besides, Ahmed's had kind of a rough time in our school. I'm the only friend he's got." Ahmed blushes, not realizing the strategy was to make him look like a pathetic loser. "Patrick-" Patrick shoves his shoulder and continues. "Don't you wanna help him make at least one more friend?" You hesitate at the door, before sighing. It certainly isn't healthy for someones only friend to be Patrick, so you nod. "Fine, I'll stay..."

Several hours go by, and after two movies, four rounds of Mario Kart, and one two-liter of Sprite later, you are on the verge of passing out. You aren't really sure what happens in the next few minutes, but all you know is you are now laying in Ahmed's bed, with Patrick to your right and Ahmed squished on your other side, between you and the wall. Patrick fell asleep first, oddly enough. For a guy with so much energy, he gets sleepy quick. Now it's just you and Ahmed.

"Sorry about this, I didn't realize it was so late..." Ahmed apologizes. He isn't sorry. He imagined hundreds of ways this evening could go, but none of them ended with you pressed up against him, in his bed. God, you were getting your scent all over his sheets and his t-shirt. "M' never gonna wash these sheets again." He mumbles to himself. "Mm- what?" You ask groggily, making him jolt and blush. "Nothing, sorry." You go back to trying to sleep, and eventually pass out.

Ahmed tries to sleep as well, but just as he closes his eyes, he feels a weight on top of him. He gasps, and opens his eyes to see Patrick on top of him. "Come on, freak. We've got work to do." He sits back on the boys lap, allowing him to sit up. "Wha- I thought you were asleep." Patrick scoffs, and shakes his head. "Nah, just knew she wouldn't want to fall asleep around big bad me if she thought I was awake. But, I am. Now go find your camera." Ahmed looks confused, making Patrick roll his eyes. "Come on, you didn't think we were just gonna have a sleepover, did you? Tell secrets and make friendship bracelets like a fuckin' girl scout troop? We have a chance to get some close-up shots we could never get otherwise right now. Maybe even get a feel of her, now hurry up." The plan now confirmed, Ahmed scrambles as quietly as he can off the bed, practically throwing himself onto the floor as he blindly feels around under his bed for the camera. He knocks some stuff around, making Patrick his. "Shut the fuck up!" He whispers harshly. "M' sorry! It's dark." Ahmed whines. Finally, his fingers close around cold metal the camera, and he climbs back onto the bed beside Patrick.

"I'm ready. Just tell me when to snap a picture, and I'll do it." Patrick nods. "Heh, I've always wanted to see what's under this shirt." Patrick carefully slides the thin cotton up, not removing it from you but placing it just under your chin, exposing your breasts to the two boys. "Why doesn't she have a bra?" Ahmed asks. "She was coming back from the gym, already took off her sports bra, I guess. It's in her back over there, if you wanna smell it or some shit." Ahmed blushes. "S-smell it?" He stammers. "I don't know, you're the freak here. I'm just guessing that's something you're into." He isn't wrong.

"God, she's got a nice little pair, huh?" Patrick motions for Ahmed to snap a few photos. "Get one of my hands on em' too." Patrick's large hands cup your breasts, his thumb barely brushing past the nipple. Once Ahmed get's the photos, Patrick begins to gently rub his thumb and fore-finger over the nipples, watching as the delicate buds harden. "Fuck, I always like them better when there hard n' shit. Seeing them poke through t-shirts. I caught her out in the cold once, took everything in me to not make her pop em' out right there in the alley behind the school." Patrick smiles and the memory. Ahmed squirms, causing his friend to take notice.

"Gimme your camera." Patrick orders. "Wha- no! This, this camera is everything to me!" Patrick just groans at the boys pleading. "I'm not gonna' break it, freak. Just giving you a chance to free up your hands so you can play with her tits too." Ahmed looks between Patrick and your breasts, which are now peaking in arousal at Patrick's teasing. He sighs. "Okay, fine." Patrick takes the camera, and Ahmed places two hands on your breasts, squeezing ever so gently. "Wow, they're really soft, except for her nipples, I guess..." Patrick restrains himself from laughing so loud he'll wake you up. "God, you are such a fuckin' virgin. Do something photo-worthy, for fucks sake." Patrick eggs Ahmed on, and in a moment of boldness, the boy places a kiss on your collarbone, before slowly trailing his way down to your left breast. After a bit of careful kissing and teasing, his chapped lips find your nipple, latching gently.

"Shit... there you go." Ahmed is so lost in the taste of your soft skin that he doesn't register the camera flashing a few times as Patrick snaps some pictures. What he does hear however, is the soft, wanton moan that escapes your lips. He pulls back, eyes wide as he looks at Patrick. Patrick seems just as shocked, but this is quickly replaced with a toothy grin. "C'mon, clearly your making her feel good. Grab at her shorts, I wanna see if she's wet from us just playing with her girls." Patrick insists, and Ahmed obliges. Trembling fingers pull at your shorts, slowly inching them down your relaxed thighs. "Hurry up-' "I'm trying! It's hard when she's asleep, not exactly cooperating." Ahmed eventually gets the thin shorts down your legs, just above your knees in case they need to move them back up in a hurry. To his delight, he managed to hook your underwear down with them, leaving your soft mound exposed to the two boys.

Ahmed's nimble fingers move to spread your lips, the strings of slick breaking apart as he parts them, coating his fingers. He almost finishes right there, seeing the light of the camera as Patrick snaps a picture reflect off of your slick, letting them know just how soaked you are. "Fuckin' soaked... just from a bit of teasing." Patrick groans, making sure to get a picture of both your holes and Ahmed's fingers parting the folds around them. "Is that not normal?" Patrick shrugs. "I don't know, some people are more sensitive than others, I guess. Especially when they haven't been touched." Ahmed's eyes light up at that, and he whips his head towards Patrick.

"You- you think there's a chance she hasn't... y'know..." Ahmed trails off. "We're literally taking nudes of her cunt right now, just say 'had sex', 'fucked', anything. Jesus." The weaker boy shrinks into himself at the blonde's words. "I mean, it's possible. I've never heard of any guy doin' her, and I've never seen her with another guy around school." Patrick continues. "Isn't that your fault?" Ahmed asks, making his new friend chuckle. "Maybe. You're the one who's been outside her window for the past month, ever seen a guy over?" Ahmed shakes his head no. "Then maybe she's just been waiting for the right guy to come and show her a good time." Patrick moves a little closer to Ahmed, pressing himself against the boy's back. For the first time, Ahmed isn't bothered by Patrick towering over his smaller frame. "Well, right guys, y'know." Ahmed doesn't respond, his mind filling with ideas of what might happen, that night when him and Patrick finally get to be your firsts.

Would you be scared? He'd comfort you as best he could, but Patrick wouldn't be much help with that, (though he knows Patrick can be gentle when he really wants something.) Ever the anxious mess, he can't even focus on his fantasies without worrying. He needed to get condoms, and were you on birth control? Patrick should definitely get tested first, who knows what he's got going on. If Patrick takes you first, what should he do? He's content to sit in the corner and play with himself, but he know's Patrick would only make fun of him for 'not getting any'. A final thought strikes him. Would he be jealous? Would you like Patrick better? You've known him longer, and he's definitely more popular. He's pretty, whereas Ahmed is skinny and feral-looking. He's drawn out of his panic by the sound of a zipper.

"Whatcha thinkin' bout, 'Mhed?" Patrick asks. He can tell when his little freak-friend is spiraling. "You wanna touch her, huh?" Ahmed nods. He can feel the rough, calloused hands of Patrick palming his cock through his boxers. He shudders. "So much. I want... god, can I take her first?" Ahmed begs, gasping as Patrick pulls down his waistband, letting his cock stick out. Patrick gently rubs his thumb on Ahmed's tip, collecting a bead of pre-cum. "Maybe. You still' passing science?" Ahmed furrows his brow at the odd question. Why was Patrick asking about classes while he jerks him off over your sleeping form. "Yeah, I'm doing p-pretty well in all my classes..." He replies. He tosses his head back into Patrick's shoulder as the strong delinquent begins to stroke his length with quick, tight strokes. Patrick's free arm wraps around Ahmed's stomach, pinning the boy's back to his broad chest. "Gimme your notes for all your classes then. If you're good for me, n' keep proving you're worth something-" Another harsh stroke. Ahmed is on the verge. "Then maybe I'll let you be the one to break in her sweet little hole." Ropes of white, hot cum spill from Ahmed's cock as he cries out, before quickly biting his lip to try and silence himself. If you woke up now, there would be no way him and Patrick could make an excuse to get out of this. Just the thought of being your first leaves Ahmed so emotional that as his cock twitches in pleasure, he can feel himself tearing up.

"Are you fucking crying?" Patrick presses his lips to Ahmed's cheek, getting a taste. "You get jerked off one time thinking about our pretty girl and you fuckin' cry. Maybe you aren't ready to be her first." Ahmed gags, and turns around. He moves his arms, frantically whispering, begging. "No, no! I won't cry then, I'll be good. I'll make her feel good, please. I- I've gotta be her first, you don't-" Patrick shushes him. "You've got a long way to go. I think you and I will have to practice some more, making sure you last longer than you did just now." Patrick leans to the side, taking in the sight of your nude torso now decorated with Ahmed's cum. He grins. "Alright, here's the deal. You take some photos real quick, make sure we can see the pretty paint-job you gave her." Ahmed blushes as Patrick stands. "Where are you going?"

"Gotta go get some wipes, and I gotta be quick about it."

[httpsghostie]

Under one Roof pt 1

pt 2

OK finally IT'S HERE

smh I'm down bad for roommate ghost I am sobbing

my hand is literally burning I wrote this aT COLLEGE

and YES my love language is food pls dont come for me

Summary: you never knew you needed a military roommate until you've got one.

Word Count: 1k (sorry it's short

Warnings: roommate!ghost x female!reader, slightly suggestive (if you squint), mentions of trauma, fluff/comfort, no use of y/n

masterlist

Ghost was an old friend of a friend of yours, and he happened to be needing a place to stay for a while, that ended up being a few more months, and now it's currently been a year since he moved in. He doesn't plan on leaving, you know it, you know that despite the independent man that he is, he likes having someone to come home to.

He was cold at first, so cold. And for many nights you cursed yourself for letting that rock of a heart get into your sweet home. He wouldn't talk much when he was there, you'd almost forget he was around if it wasn't for random coughs or sneezes.

That man smoked like a chimney in the first days he's spent around, he was anxious and that wasn't very cute, he was always smelling like cigarettes, but thankfully he didn't smoke inside.

He appreciated your effort on cooking for the two of you, but you couldn't help it. How could he survive when he wasn't eating properly? Yes, frozen pizza is cool… until it's the third day in a row that you're eating frozen and instant food and you can barely stand.

He also had a fucked up sleeping schedule that you just went along with it, you once got scared when you walked in the kitchen and found him just laying on the wall, eyes closed and snoring slightly. That day you scolded him to go back to his room and made him lay down on the bed.

"You're gonna lay down on this bed and you're gonna have some nice hours of sleep, alright? I'm gonna leave the door open, if I see you awake I'm punching you." You sounded like a mother, almost, and he was so tired he couldn't fight back.

And the days went by, he'd go away, he'd come back as tired as he left. But at least he was slowly opening up to be a really cool guy. You two started to bond, and the more he talked, the more you wanted to spend time with him.

Oh and don't even get started on dad jokes, he's cracking them up whenever he's helping with house chores, or when you two are eating peacefully.

He became a friend, a very good friend, one that wouldn't mind you venting out to, plus he was a good listener. He'd just sit there listening to whatever haze your brain was going through, and slowly he learned that he shouldn't be giving you reasonable ways to solve your problems, he should just tell you it would be ok.

And you found yourself slowly falling for him. Of course destiny had to put you together. Only if it wasn't for the way he handled things around the house.

"Oh, the living room lamp broke? Let me fix it."

"Those boxes are heavy, hand them to me."

"Go find a movie for us to watch, I'll do the dishes. Find a good one, though."

"Goddamnit, I told you not to be climbing on that fucking balcony, you're not a cat, you're gonna hurt yourself one day." Said as he picked you up when you were trying to reach the top of the cabinet. "Just ask me, I can reach it without putting myself in danger."

Or maybe if it wasn't for the fact that he'd purposefully get out of the shower with that pretty little towel wrapped around his body, that made you clench your fists. The way he was still a bit wet, a few drops running down his abs. He was surprisingly cool with his scars around you, maybe because you didn't make a big deal out of it.

That's because it wasn't. You expected that when Gaz, your friend, told you that the friend he was sending to you was his 'work buddy'. And he phrased it exactly like that. 

"Don't mind him, he's big and scary, but he'll be a good roommate, I promise, he's my work buddy." You chuckled when you read the text.

And yet Ghost didn't mind the stare of admiration coming from your burning gaze across the living room, when you thought the most ungodly things a brain has seen.

He started to become more and more warm, he found safe with you, like you could actually be his home. One night, he found a deep conection with you when you were casually drinking together, sat by the coffee table, playing video games. 

She should know the truth about me.

He thought. And that was the night he dropped his heavy armor. He told you the bare surface of his past, even though most of it had been blocked from his memory, like a dark spot he couldn't remember, and would die without trying to take a peak at it.

You cried, and he couldn't understand why you were crying until you said it wasn't his fault.

"It's not your fault, you didn't deserve any of this." You sobbed, hugging him close.

He broke down. Like he needed someone to reassure him that he wasn't the villain from his past. He realized what you meant to him, and he swore to God he would try his best to come home to you when he had to work.

Some days were strange after that, like he regretted telling you about his story. He had that feeling in his gut that you weren't looking at him the same way, like you were pity. He didn't want your pity, he hated that look on your face.

But that changed.

He had come home one day, texting you while he was at the airport waiting for a ride. You ran to get groceries and make him a good meal, but the only thing that came to your mind was the old recipe of lasagna you kept from your grannie.

That old lady, always saving your life.