#always telling him how beautiful and perfect he is

[urdreamgirls-dreamgirl]

“vickie!” eddie practically screams from his kitchen, rage coursing through him as he stares down at the tabloids spread out in front of him on the counter. “get in here! now!”

eddie’s had an issue with his rage lately. well. he’s had an issue with a lot of things, since he got famous, really. but that’s not his problem right now.

his problem is he’s looking down at image after image of himself on the covers of people and us weekly and entertainment tonight being dragged out of last night’s night club by his own security team with blood pouring from his nose. he looks angry. he looks crazed.

just then, a stranger walks into his kitchen.

“who the fuck are you?” he blurts out at the man, who’s wearing a dark green sweater vest over a white t-shirt and tortoise-shell glasses.

“i’m steve,” the weirdo stalker says, smiling brightly. he has surprisingly swoopy hair for an insane fan. “i’m your new assistant.”

“where’s vickie?” eddie asks, rubbing at the sore spot on his nose. thank god it’s not broken.

“you fired her,” steve tells him. “two days ago.”

“i fire her all the time.”

“ok, well… i guess this time it stuck,” steve shrugs. “chrissy hired me.”

“fucking chrissy,” eddie says under his breath, rolling his eyes. he pulls out his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants and speed dials chrissy. “chris, what the fuck?” he doesn’t even give her the chance to say hello.

“good morning, eddie. i’m doing really well, how are you?”

“not fucking well, that’s how i am!” eddie practically yells into the receiver. “what the fuck? did you see the pictures? and who the fuck is this guy in my house?”

“yes, eddie, i saw the pictures.” eddie can hear the eye roll in her voice. “we’re handling it. nancy’s already on it with the team. what was the other thing?”

eddie knows she’s fucking with him and that pisses him off even more. “who is this freak in my house wearing a goddamn sweater vest?!” he feels like a blood vessel in his eye is about to pop.

“hey,” steve protests softly from across the kitchen where he’s started to pull shit out of eddie’s fridge. he didn’t even know there was anything in that fridge.

“that’s not a very nice way to talk about your new assistant,” chrissy’s voice comes loud and clear through the phone.

“christina fucking cunningham, you know i have final say on all hiring decisions when it comes to my assistants.” he rubs at his sore nose again.

“you had final say on all hiring decisions until you fired vickie for the thirteenth time and she refused to come back, even with a three hundred percent raise. we’re going in a different direction now.” chrissy sounds entirely too pleased with herself.

“well, i fucking hate him,” eddie grumbles and watches steve to make sure he’s heard him. steve doesn’t even react, just continues doing whatever the fuck he’s doing with the frying pan he’d found in the cabinet.

“you don’t even know him, eddie. give him a chance. anyway, i have to go, i have brunch plans with my very beautiful, very intelligent, perfect fiancée,” chrissy tells him, gloating, before hanging up on him.

eddie wants desperately to throw his phone across the kitchen, but if he breaks this one that would be his fourth phone in three weeks and he couldn’t bear to have to ask this steve person to go buy him a new one. he settles for squeezing it in his hand until it creaks while taking several deep breaths through his nose.

“what are you doing?” he grits out.

“are you always this rude?” steve asks, ignoring his question.

“to weirdo freak strangers showing up in my house unannounced? yes.”

“it’s not unannounced, chrissy wrote it on your calendar.” steve gestures toward the paper calendar hanging on the side of the fridge where chrissy writes his major life events and which eddie mostly just ignores before sliding a plate full of food toward eddie.

“what is this?” eddie sneers.

“it’s an omelette with cheese and mushrooms,” steve replies, smiling. he’s always fucking smiling.

“i’m allergic to… omelettes,” eddie says, just to be a dick.

“no you’re not. you’re allergic to blueberries and dust.” steve doesn’t stop smiling pleasantly.

“did you get access to my medical records? that’s a violation of my… whatever rights.” eddie waves a hand through the air.

“no, i didn’t go look at your medical records, jesus. i’m not a stalker. chrissy told me when she hired me.”

“whatever. i still fucking hate you.”

“okay,” steve shrugs again. “eat your breakfast.”

eddie has every intention of leaving the kitchen, full plate of food and all, but. he is hungry.

so he eats.

and he’s pissed that it’s actually good.

~*~

eddie spends the rest of the day being a general nuisance to steve any time he tries to do his job. when steve answers the phone before handing it to eddie, eddie “accidentally” hangs up on whoever it is on the hand off & makes sure to blame his new assistant when the person finally calls back. when steve has to drive him to his meeting with nancy and the pr team, eddie tries to give him the wrong directions, but steve’s too smart for that. when steve has to do the grocery shopping, he makes steve go to the erewhon all the way across town during rush hour because the one down the street “just doesn’t have the same vibe, steve.”

and all the while, steve just does his job, still smiling, not getting angry at all even though it’s beyond obvious eddie’s being a little shit to him.

which honestly just pisses eddie off more than anything else today.

“here’s some aspirin,” steve says, placing two white pills on the coffee table in front of eddie, along with a mason jar of water. eddie, lounging on his big squishy couch, pulls the ice pack away from his nose, which has started throbbing again. “you didn’t have any glasses.” steve shrugs when he sees eddie’s arched eyebrow looking skeptically at the jar of water. “if you don’t need anything else, i’ll take off for the day.”

it’s past 8pm already, long after steve should have left for the day except that eddie had made him stay to organize his extensive tshirt collection by color, shade, and design before he could even think about going home. it was an emergency, after all.

“i’ll have to check the t-shirt closet first,” eddie replies, before swallowing the aspirin dry. steve shrugs again and rolls his eyes. eddie would say something about his blatant rudeness, but he’s too exhausted.

eddie pulls himself off the couch and makes his way down the hallway to his “t-shirt room.” it’s so stupid, but he has all this space and he’d started collecting the tshirts so long ago. they’re not worth anything, they’re just his wardrobe but… they remind him of wayne and the thrifting they used to do every saturday morning.

the organization eddie had been having steve do was entirely arbitrary. it’s not like eddie plans his outfits. he mostly just pulls whatever out of wherever, unless it’s an event and then he pays someone to do the deciding and dressing for him anyway.

but. steve’s organized the t-shirts by genre and subgenre and then by band alphabetically and finally color. more than eddie had even asked him to do.

eddie had come in here fully prepared to rip steve a new one, but even he can be shocked into appreciation.

steve notices eddie’s silence and grins.

“can i tell you something?” steve says pleasantly and then continues without even letting eddie respond to the question. “i know i look like a nice polite guy next door that moms totally love—it’s the sweater vests, i think.” steve plucks at his top. “and that’s true. i am a nice polite guy and moms do love me. i’m awesome.” his grin widens. “but i got kicked out of my parents house when i was 18 and i lived in my car for a while. i’ve been on my own for seven years. i made a life in LA out of nothing. so you can throw your little temper tantrums and tell me how much you hate me. you can make me go to the erewhon all the way across town and you can make me look incompetent to my colleagues. but i need this job. i’ve worked hard for this job. this job pays more than any other job i’ve ever had combined. and you’re hardly the biggest asshole i’ve ever met. so you can continue trying to make my life miserable—hell, i’ll even give you my dad’s number, you guys can swap ideas!” steve laughs at his own joke before turning serious for the first time all day. “but i’m not vickie. you won’t make me cry. you can’t fire me. i’m not going anywhere.” he claps his hands together. “anyway, i’m gonna take off, since i have plans with my actual friends. but hey, i’ll see you tomorrow, huh?” and he smiles again, giving eddie a small waggle of his fingers, before heading out through the door.

eddie’s still just standing there in the middle of his tshirt room when he hears the front door slam shut.

part two

[bunny-jpeg]

the bow pose

carlos sainz jr

request: vday prompts - 63 and carlos please <3 63. “wow, i didn’t realize you were that...flexible.”

tags: smut/pwp, yoga positions, flexibility, floor/living room sex, modified doggy style

eros (the valentine's day collection)

carlos knew you were a woman of many talents. from your ability to measure the liquor in a cocktail perfectly on the first try, or how you could tell what hour it was from the position of the sun. it was small things that made carlos very impressed with you.

while you'd fluff it off, and tell him it was little things you picked up, carlos was always eager to give you praise. the small things, the large things, everything! but what made his jaw drop was one sunny winter afternoon when he came back from williams testing. and found you in a proper yoga pose.

but not just any pose, the bow pose.

carlos' eyes went wide at the sight of you. you were in a sports bra and atheltic leggings and the way your body bent made him almost drop his williams' branded water bottle.

you noticed him and then slowly dropped the pose. your muscles relaxed and that only enticed him more. especially when you let out a small moan in relaxation. you extended your arms out and propped your top half up as you looked at him with a smile, "hey, honey! how was testing?"

he nodded and put his belongings on the couch, "always perfect. they're great." he tried to brush off how you looked, the cobra position didn't help either. it would still give him easy access to your sweet body. he gave you the once over before he said, “wow, i didn’t realize you were that...flexible."

you chuckled, "i'm a bit rusty. i did it all the time as a teen to keep my body moving. all those joint problems i had in my teens." you exhaled as you stretched your back a little more, "got lazy with it post graduation, but now that you're getting back to proper shape for the season. i should to the same thing."

carlos approached, socked feet padded on the hardwood floor of the rental home you were sharing for the next little while. when he got close enough,he crouched down and spread his hand across your exposed back. he licked his lips, "you look good. hot in all these positions."

you giggled and dropped your top half onto the floor and bent your knees to raise them a little to stretch out your lower back. carlos' gaze grew hungrier. your eyes closed for a moment, but quickly re-opened when you felt him behind you and his hands on your hips.

he raised your hips a little and pressed your soft behind against his clothed cock. he made a face like he was gauging his ability to fuck you in this position, "next time." he said, "i'm really going to see how flexible you are." then pressed into you which caused your back to arch.

you let out a small moan and carlos eyed your behind for a moment before he squeezed the flesh with his hand. the action made your stomach clench and you felt an uptick of excitement in you.

"do you want me?"

"yes."

"good." he said lowly before he took your leggings off of you, he pulled them all the way off before he tossed them towards the couch. he then rubbed up against you. the rough denim of his jeans up against your ass made you moan. he added, "you sound beautiful, i bet you were loud when you got into those positions. i bet you thought about me." his tone was heated and it left you with a lingering want between your legs.

"carlos, fuck." you arched your back a little and felt the flutter of want in your core. thankfully the yoga mat was under your body or else you'd be a lot more achy come morning. you looked over your shoulder at him and saw how hungry he had become for you.

you never knew that carlos liked this. you helped him get your panties off and with your lower half exposed, he pressed your top half further into the mat.

he said, "if it starts to hurt, tell me." and you nodded. he then gripped the back of your neck a little tighter and said, "use your words."

you exhaled and swore, it was arousing. you then said, "yes, of course, carlos." and he let go of you to get himself out of his jeans. he teased your slit soon after, he rubbed the achy tip against your sweet entrance.

"feels amazing as always." he said, "there is something about you i cannot deny. from the moment i met you, i knew i had to have you. all over you. and to see you bend the way you do only turns me on more." his breathing grew heavier as he sank his cock into you. you easily split open for him, letting himself get snug between your thighs.

pussy that felt like heaven, he could taste the pleasure in his throat now with both hands on your hips. he loomed over you as he started to move his hips, slow yet forceful thrusts against you.

"perfect." he purred.

you could feel the climb of pleasure in your core as he felt like he shook your foundation. there was nothing quite like him. never have been anyone like him. and there never will be anyone like him. the feeling was euphoric in a certain way that had you moaning loudly.

sex with carlos was almost an exciting affair, the type that pulled you in each time you did it. you clung onto the edge of the yoga mat and let carlos arch your back a little more to give you both the pleasure you desired. it was hot, it was an achy heat that left your mouth spilling words of heated lust.

"please, carlos. fuck, i didn't know it would make you feel this good. i should've done yoga sooner." you chuckled as your grip on the mat tightened the more than carlos moved himself against you. your breaths were heavy pants and you loved the feeling of him on top of you.

you hated to admit it, even though you couldn't look at him in the position. you loved doggy style quite a bit, it just hit all the right places and made your head spin. carlos was good at that, making your soul thrum with sexual desire and wanted.

they didn't associate him with a hot pepper for nothing. often left your cheeks hotter than the chili itself. you dropped your head to the met and let its softness keep your cheek comfortable while carlos continued to thrust into you, marginally picking up speed.

"always sound so sweet for me."

you couldn't help it. you felt like you were adding to the arousal. but in reality it felt like your brain didn't know what to do with all the added pleasure other than to let carlos know how good he made you feel. his special talent, making his girlfriend squirm and moan.

but you knew if it all became too much, to let him know. there was no issue if he just flooded your head a little too much with the rush of pleasure. he kissed your back, the spots were the bra straps didn't cover. he could almost feel your heartbeat in your back. he held on a little tighter and you moaned louder.

"and you feel amazing too, my love." his voice hot in your ear, "how you move, how you bend. all positions for me to fuck you in." he chuckled lowly, "you'd let me stretch, bend and fuck you to my liking. isn't that right?"

you swore under your breath. pleasure felt heavy in your gut as he continued to fuck you, his pace much faster and left your head feeling in a stir as his cock bullied himself up inside of your beautiful pussy. who the hell allowed him to fuck you so good, to know exactly how to make you feel good.

the pleasure only grew in your as you pressed your cheek further against the mat and let him have full control of your slick pussy. the sounds of fucking filled the living room. you two were going at it, the pace quickened as you both felt closer to your climaxes. it was intense, the fire swarmed through your belly as it throbbed in your head.

"please carlos." you panted as you felt the tension in you grow. the sexual desire for him mounted and it wasn't much longer before you felt it all splash you. and you came around his cock.

"that's it, that's it." he cooed as he continued to fuck you. his pace left you breathless as the shudder of pleasure coursed through you. it felt amazing, you felt amazing. a piece of heaven all blissed out under him.

he kissed your back once more and felt the rapid thumping in his chest as he got close. he gave you a searing kiss at the back of your neck as he slammed his entire length into you and finished inside of you.

"fuck."

"i love you." he said hotly as he stopped his movements and let himself hold you by the waist for a few more moments. he pressed more kissed against your back and whispered sweet praises of his love to you. it sounded beautiful until he managed to pull his head away and loudly exhale.

it took a lot out of him, especially after the day of racing. he pulled away and rested himself on his heels while your hips dropped to the mat. you got onto your back and looked around to find your bottoms. but you had a feeling they wouldn't be found until morning.

carlos said as he pushed his sweaty hair out of his face and chuckled, "next time, i'm really going to see how flexible you are." he admired you before you pulled him in by the shirt. your lips crashed into one another and he groaned into the kiss

when you pulled away, you asked him, "why don't we find out right now?" <3

[wholoveseggs]

Huhu, it's me again :) Happy New Year to you and Eggs. I have another idea once you are through with what must be a very long list <3 - So, Reader and Elijah had a romantic whirlwind encounter while she was extensively traveling Europe, living her best life. They agreed to keep it on a first name basis and on keeping things casual. One morning, she just disappears on him. Back in the US, she is taking up a new job/ studies where she meets Klaus, and they start dating (semi casual). Once he introduces her to his family for Thanksgiving, she sees Elijah again, and whatever happens after is completely up to you :) Thanks in advance.

Serendipitous

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!Reader && Klaus Mikaelson x f!Reader } When your new life in New Orleans collides with the past you tried to outrun, you come face to face with the man you never stopped thinking about. And worse? You are sleeping with his brother.

♡♡ Once again you give me the most brilliant ideas @originals23~ thank you and I hope you enjoy! ♡♡

8.4k words {whoops} - Warnings: so much smut (there are THREE scenes in this one ~lol I may have gone overboard), unprotected sex (I know, I know, vampires can't reproduce... but reader doesn't know they are vampires...) fingering, oral (f!recieving), casual sex with Klaus, little but of angst, lot's of unresolved sexual & emotional tension, reunion sex, semi-public sex, Elijah being intense and possessive in the hottest way, Klaus being a messy but well-meaning && inappropriate use of a side table...

Your arrangement with Elijah was simple. Or at least, it was supposed to be.

You met by chance on a sunny afternoon in Florence, your tables at a café so close your elbows nearly touched. A passing comment about the wine turned into a two-hour conversation about art, history, and the fleeting beauty of life. His voice was velvet, his presence magnetic, and by the time the waiter brought the check, you were hopelessly charmed.

Keeping things uncomplicated was your idea. First names only. No talk of the future. Just two people indulging in the moment. But there was something about Elijah. His poised elegance, the way he made you feel seen. Made sticking to those rules harder every time you saw him.

Tonight was no different. Except for one thing. This was your last night in Europe, and he didn’t know. You hadn’t told him you were leaving and that the version of yourself he had come to know. The carefree traveler. The woman with no roots… she would disappear as soon as the sun rose. A part of you wanted to tell him, but the words caught in your throat every time you thought to speak. You couldn’t bring yourself to ruin the fragile perfection of what you had, even if it was destined to end.

Now, standing outside the door to his suite, you felt that familiar pull, equal parts excitement and dread. The lock clicked, and the door swung open before you could knock. Elijah stood there, immaculately dressed as always, his dark eyes glinting with amusement.

“Second thoughts?” he asked, a teasing smile on his lips.

“Never,” you lied, stepping inside.

The suite was extravagant, warm and rich, but it was his presence that filled the room. He gestured for you to sit, though you barely made it to the sofa before he pulled you into his lap, the contact sending sparks dancing under your skin.

“I was going to ask how your day was,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear, “but I know you don’t tolerate small talk.”

“Not when there are better things we could be doing,” you breathed, pulling him in for a kiss.

A soft sigh escaped you as your lips met, his strong hands holding you steady, your heart beating in time with his. You were in freefall, tumbling down the rabbit hole of his affection, and as he deepened the kiss, the last shreds of your resolve fell away.

He was so, damn, crushingly good in bed. He knew how to take his time, to read the smallest shifts in your body and adjust his rhythm. When he touched you, the whole world faded away, until all that was left was the two of you, wrapped up in each other.

You tugged his shirt out of his pants, pulling on the buttons of his vest in an effort to undress him faster. He chuckled, sitting back, watching you fumble.

"I can do it," you muttered, blushing as you undid his buttons, his skin hot under your fingers.

He shrugged off his jacket, and you ran your hands up his arms, across his chest, his muscles firm and taut under his crisp shirt. He was always so impeccably dressed, his clothing clearly expensive and well-made. You’d noticed it from the start, how he carried himself like a man born to luxury, but never flaunting it—just letting it linger in the details. It made you wonder what he did for a living, how did he earn his money? You knew so little about him, yet you were about to have his cock inside you.

You quickly peeled off your dress, watching his reaction as you tossed it aside. You loved how he looked at you. As if you were the only woman in the world, his gaze filled with admiration.

"I like it when you watch me," you admitted softly.

"I'd rather have my hands on you." He replied, running his palm along your thighs, his fingers trailing dangerously high, stopping just short of where you needed him.

You let out a quiet moan, and he chuckled at your response, moving his hands under your hips and picking you up, placing you underneath him on the bed. You watched as he slid his belt from its loops, tossing it onto the floor.

"Can you keep the rest on for now?" you asked, your voice quieter than intended. "You look so good in a suit.”

"As you wish." He grinned as he unbuttoned his pants, freeing his erection, and your heart fluttered. He reached over to the bedside table, retrieving a condom.

"No," you protested, your brain-to-mouth filter long gone. "I want to feel you."

The moment the words left your lips, you knew you had gone too far. The two of you never talked about this. Hell, you didn't even know if he wanted kids. Or had kids. Or birth control. Or anything personal at all. Yet, there was a part of you that didn't care. A reckless, desperate part that wanted to feel him come inside you, to take whatever piece of him he was willing to give.

He studied your face, and you were certain he would tell you no. Any reasonable man would. But then, he dropped the condom and kissed you, a slow, lingering kiss that made you squirm.

"If that's what you want." He murmured, pulling you even closer.

You nodded, clinging to him. Your hips rose to meet him, and his hands gripped your thighs, spreading you wider, as he slowly entered you.

This was such a bad idea. Having raw sex with a stranger. It was the kind of decision that would've gotten you a stern talking-to from your mother. And yet, you'd never been so turned on in your life.

He moved inside you, a languid roll of his hips, and a whimper escaped you. You wrapped your legs around him, urging him closer. You felt drunk, delirious, overwhelmed by the feeling of his skin against yours, his hard length filling you, stretching you, pushing deeper with each thrust.

It was different this way, more intense, the intimacy heightened. You suddenly regretted asking him to leave his suit on. You wanted more, the need for closeness clawing at your chest. You tugged on his shirt, until he took the hint, leaning back to shed it, his hips still moving, keeping a perfect, maddening, rhythm.

"You don't know what you want today, do you?" he said, his tone playful.

You always enjoyed a bit of dirty talk, but the sound of his voice now. Soothing and authoritative, the slightest edge of teasing… had your head spinning.

"Hush," you chided, trying to regain your composure.

He chuckled, his hands sliding up your sides, his fingers intertwining with yours. "I'm sorry," he said, though he didn't sound sorry at all. "Tell me what you want."

You moaned, the warmth in your belly coiling tighter. The way he held your hands, steady and sure, felt too intimate, too personal. But you didn’t pull away. You couldn’t.

"Do you want me to go harder?" He leaned forward, his lips brushing against yours, curling into a teasing smile. "Deeper?"

You nodded, closing your eyes as he adjusted his angle, his cock hitting the spot that made your toes curl. You were close, and he seemed to sense it, his hips rocking into you harder, the bed creaking under his weight.

"Do you want me to come inside you?" he whispered, his voice rough, his words sending a fresh wave of desire through you.

It was a foolish, insane, stupid idea, but lord, did you want it. You wanted to feel his release, the heat of him filling you.

Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his, the intensity of his gaze overwhelming.

"Yes," you breathed, "please."

The look in his eyes changed, as if a switch had flipped, the gentle teasing replaced by something deeper. It was the thing you were both trying to avoid, the emotion lurking just beneath the surface.

He let go of your hands, bracing himself on the mattress, his thrusts slowed, his pace deeper, drawing out the pleasure, the air between you charged, thick with anticipation.

"Say it again," he commanded.

"Please," you moaned. "I need-"

He silenced you with a kiss, your hands moving to his hips, clutching his ass, urging him deeper, faster.

He buried his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin, his thrusts growing uneven.

"Please," you whispered, your fingers tangling in his hair, "come inside me."

A groan escaped him, and his body stilled, the feeling of him pulsing inside you making your whole body tense, a white-hot pleasure surging through you as you both came undone, clinging to each other as if the world would fall away without the other to anchor you.

He collapsed next to you, and you curled against him, resting your head on his chest, his heart beating fast and strong under your cheek.

You weren’t sure what this was, the two of you tangled together, basking in the afterglow. He wasn’t usually a cuddler. In fact, he’d never asked you to stay the night. Yet, here he was, running his fingers through your hair, his arms around you, holding you close.

You could hear the traffic outside, the bustle of the city. It felt surreal, as if you were watching yourself from above. The woman who’d begged him to come inside her, who craved his touch, wasn’t you. She was a stranger. A shadow of the person you pretended to be.

The thought sent a jolt through your chest, and you pulled away, sitting up and reaching for your clothes.

“It’s getting late,” you said. “I should-”

“Stay,” he said softly, his hand trailing slowly down your back. His voice was quieter than you had ever heard it, almost hesitant, and the word stuck in your chest like a splinter.

Your eyes darted toward the door, the urge to flee overwhelming. What the hell were you thinking? Reckless. Stupid. You’d never planned for this to go so far, to feel so real. Yet, when his hand slid down your back, the warmth of his touch anchored you, quieting the chaos in your mind.

You found yourself nodding, cuddling back against his chest, as if the heat of his embrace could fix everything.

“Just for a little while,” you said, trying to quiet the voice in your head.

“Mmm,” he murmured, and you could feel him smiling against your hair.

The sun had set, the sky turning a dusky purple, the streetlights casting a warm glow on the buildings below. And the two of you had fallen asleep in each other’s arms, feeling safe, content, and hopelessly in love.

The first rays of dawn spilled through the windows, painting the room in soft hues of gold and pink. Elijah lay beside you, his features softened in sleep, one arm draped possessively across your waist.

You had been watching him for a while, a bit of a creepy thing to do, but he was just so handsome, even with his hair disheveled. You let your mind wander, imagining him being yours, waking up next to him every day, sharing meals and adventures. You wondered what his favorite color was, if he liked cats, his thoughts on politics. All those small details that would help bring him to life.

You also wondered what his life was like, who his family was. Maybe he was married? Cheating on his wife with you? The thought was a cold splash of reality. Of course, he was probably married. A man like him would never be single.

You sighed, running your fingers through his hair. This was such a mistake. You didn't know a damn thing about him, yet, here you were, fantasizing about a future together.

Carefully, you slipped out from under his arm, your heart aching with every movement. You dressed in silence, the weight of what you were about to do pressing down on you. Standing at the door, you glanced back at him, your chest tightening at the sight of him sleeping so peacefully.

You wanted to stay. You wanted to whisper the truth, that he was like something out of a dream. But you couldn’t. Because dreams didn't last. They didn't have roots. And you had a life to get back to.

So, instead, you turned and walked out the door, not letting yourself look back.

The New Orleans heat was relentless, thick with humidity, wrapping around you like a second skin. The streets buzzed with music and conversation, and even after months of living here, the city's energy still caught you off guard. It was a stark contrast to Europe, where everything felt steeped in quiet history. Here, everything moved fast. Loud, unpredictable, alive.

You had built a life here, found a job you actually enjoyed, and for the first time in a long time, things felt normal. A fresh start. And yet, no matter how far you ran, how many new routines you built, the ghost of the mysterious Elijah  still lurked in the quiet moments. Not often. Not intentionally. But in the space between thoughts, his presence would slip in. His hands, his voice, the way he had looked at you…

You didn’t dwell on it…

Or at least, you told yourself you didn’t…

Instead, you threw yourself into your new life. And a big part of that life was Klaus.

Not in a romantic, sweep-you-off-your-feet way. That would be a disaster, and you knew better. Klaus wasn’t a boyfriend, he was more of… a friendly force in your life. Someone you got drinks with, argued with, occasionally rolled around in bed with. He was charming in a way that made people want to orbit around him, and somehow, you had ended up in that orbit.

You met him at an art gallery downtown, where he had been swirling a glass of red wine and smirking at a particularly ugly modern piece like it had personally offended him. You had made some offhanded joke about abstract art being a scam, and he had laughed, a sharp, knowing laugh, like he was having the exact same thought.

After that, he had a way of showing up. Inviting you out, dragging you into conversations about history and art over whiskey, introducing you to the chaotic energy of the city’s nightlife. You got along. He was fun. He had a mean streak, but you knew how to handle men like that. It was easy.

And maybe, if things were different, you would’ve let something more happen between you. But you both understood what this was…Just company, just passing time. Just a friendly hookup until real love came along… If it ever did.

The soft breeze drifting through the open window did little to cool the heavy heat of the room. The sheets were a tangled mess, kicked aside during the night’s events, and beside you, Klaus lay sprawled out, one arm thrown over his face, his body lazy and sated.

You stretched, the slow ache between your thighs a familiar, satisfying reminder of last night. It hadn’t been anything deep or meaningful, just fun. Easy. No expectations, no promises.

Klaus was good company, someone who understood the unspoken rules of this arrangement: pleasure, no strings. He was charming, sure. Attractive, obviously. But you both knew what this was.

As if sensing your eyes on him, he stirred, his hand sliding absently across your stomach. “Mmm, already awake?” His voice was thick with sleep.

“Fortunately, for you,” You smirked, shifting to straddle his hips, your palms pressing against his chest.

He grinned, eyes still heavy-lidded. “Eager thing, aren’t you?”

“Only because you’re so damn easy.” You dragged your nails lightly down his torso, reveling in the way he tensed beneath you.

Klaus chuckled, but it turned into a low groan as you rocked against him, teasing. His hands settled on your hips, fingers digging in just enough to let you know he enjoyed it.

“If you’re going to keep teasing, love,” he murmured, voice rough, “you better be prepared to finish what you started.”

“I always finish what I start.” You reached for the bedside drawer, rolling on a condom before sinking down onto him, the feeling of your bodies connecting making you both exhale.

The rhythm was familiar, something you both knew well by now. You took what you needed, moved together in a way that was more about chasing pleasure than anything sentimental. Klaus let you take control, his hands gripping your thighs, guiding your movements but never demanding.

It was good. The kind of effortless chemistry that kept you coming back to him.

But then. It happened.

One second, it was Klaus beneath you, his sharp smirk, his blue eyes watching you with hunger.

And then. The stranger that you couldn't get out of your mind. Elijah.

His face flickered into focus like a mirage, his dark eyes holding you in that way that had once made your breath catch.

You froze, a jolt of panic hitting your system like ice water.

No. No.

Your pulse thundered in your ears as you blinked hard, trying to shake it. When you opened your eyes again. Klaus. Just Klaus. Watching you with mild confusion.

"Are you okay? Do you want to stop?"

"N-no."

"Are you sure? We don't have to keep going if-"

"No. Just give me a minute," you said, swallowing the knot in your throat, your mind scrambling.

This had never happened before. Never. But there it was. An image of him burned into your memory, overlaying Klaus, taking the place of your reality.

Klaus halted your hips and sat up, his brows knitting with concern. "You're trembling."

"Sorry." You shook your head, forcing yourself to meet his gaze, though it felt like your whole world was shattering. "Just... got distracted."

"By?" He was giving you a look, somewhere between concerned and amused, his curiosity obvious.

You sighed. He was going to push this.

"Promise you won't get weird about it?"

"Of course not, love."

You swallowed, trying to ignore the sick feeling in the pit of your stomach.

"Someone else."

Klaus chuckled, a warm, rumbling sound. "Don't tell me, the thought of me alone isn't enough to satisfy? That will hurt my ego."

"Don't be ridiculous." You rolled your eyes, fighting the urge to squirm. "It's not about you. It's... an old fling."

"Oh?" His expression shifted, his tone more serious.

"Yeah, someone from when I was traveling. Just... popped into my head, that's all." You shrugged, a feeble attempt to make it seem unimportant.

"I see," He studied your face, his gaze unnervingly steady.

You braced for him to ask more questions, maybe to get jealous or offended, but instead, he flipped you onto your back, a wicked grin on his face.

"I guess I must not be doing my job correctly," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the spot on your neck that always made your toes curl. "I think we can remedy that."

He was a bit rougher with you this time, a bit less playful, his movements filled with a purpose. Like a challenge. He wanted to keep your mind from wandering. And, hell, it worked for a while. The way he was kissing you, moving inside you, touching you, it was so intense. So present.

You moaned, tangling your fingers in his hair, and he pulled away, his gaze searching.

"Is that good?" he asked, his voice softer than usual, the hint of a smile on his lips.

"Yeah," you breathed. "Very."

His hips picked up their pace, his lips hot on your skin, the tension building inside you with each thrust.

You came undone, Klaus following not long after, collapsing onto the mattress beside you, his breathing ragged.

"Still thinking about that old fling?"

You chuckled, swatting his shoulder. "Shut up. Don't be jealous,"

"Me? Never."

You sighed, glancing at the clock. "I need to get ready for work,"

Klaus shrugged, rolling out of bed, stretching, and pulling on his clothes. You watched him, the way he moved, the confidence he exuded.

He was handsome, of course. He was the kind of guy you'd notice immediately, his features chiseled and striking, the perfect amount of scruff. But it wasn't just that. There was something else. A certain... charisma. A presence that made you feel as if he could command a room, the whole city, without even trying.

"Are you coming out tonight?"

"Hmm?" You blinked, his question catching you off guard.

"Tonight, to the dinner party." He cocked his head, looking at you expectantly. "Unless, of course, you've decided to spend your evening pining after someone who isn't here."

"Oh. Yeah, sure."

"Well, don't sound too enthusiastic, love."

You laughed, swatting his arm. "Stop, you know I'm going. I'm actually looking forward to meeting your siblings, mostly to get dirt on you."

"That's a dangerous game, darling." He smirked, leaning over to kiss your forehead. "But, if it makes you happy, I'll see you tonight."

"See you."

He gave you one last grin, the door clicking softly as he left.

You flopped back against the pillows, letting out a shaky breath. Trying to erase a specific pair of haunting brown eyes from your memory. You weren't the type to be hung up on anyone, especially a stranger you hooked up with months ago. Yet, here you were, feeling like an absolute idiot.

You shook your head, getting out of bed, ignoring the way your legs trembled.

This was stupid. A minor setback.

You would move on.

You had to move on.

Right?

You knew Klaus was rich. But you were aware just how insanely wealthy he truly was. It was something that should've been obvious, considering the way Klaus threw around his money, but seeing his ridiculously lavish compound in person was a completely different experience.

The place was huge, sprawling, elegant in a way that only an ancient estate could be. The architecture was stunning, and you were fairly certain the entry hall alone was the size of your apartment.

"You live here?" You glanced over at Klaus, taking in his nonchalant expression.

He nodded, "It's not too shabby, is it?"

You laughed, "Not too shabby? This is insane."

You took in the artwork hanging on the walls, the ornate furniture, and the grand staircase that seemed to stretch on forever. It was the kind of place people only saw on tv. You felt underdressed, almost as if you had stepped into some kind of dream.

"Come, the food is almost ready, and I want to introduce you to my family."

Klaus led you through the winding halls and corridors, until you finally reached a large dining room. There was a massive table, laden with food, and sitting around it were a dozen or so people, chatting and laughing.

Klaus cleared his throat, catching the attention of the room. "Everyone, this is Y/N, my... friend."

A chorus of greetings echoed through the room, and Klaus gestured to a particularly attractive group sitting at the far end of the table.

"These are my siblings, Rebekah, Kol, and Elijah."

You froze, the blood draining from your face as they turned to face you.

It was him.

The man you had been trying so hard to forget, the one whose presence had taken over your life. The same dark eyes, the same gentle smile, the same strong, capable hands. Those hands.

The memories hit you in a dizzying wave. The feeling of his skin, the taste of his lips, the way he held you, the way he looked at you, memorizing every detail.

Elijah was a ghost. A shadow. Someone you would never see again.

Until now.

His face paled, his expression mirroring your own shock. The two of you stood there, staring at each other, the rest of the room falling away.

Your heart hammered in your chest, your mind reeling. How? How the fuck was he here? Was this a dream? Some cruel joke the universe was playing?

You opened your mouth, then closed it again, unable to find the words.

The silence stretched on, growing heavier and heavier, until Klaus finally cleared his throat, breaking the spell.

"Sit, please. I have more guests coming soon."

You sank into a chair next to you Elijah, your hands visibly trembling. This was a nightmare. An absolute nightmare.

Klaus walked away to greet some more guests, leaving you with his siblings. You snuck a glance at Elijah, taking in his stiff posture, his jaw clenched, his eyes fixed on the wall in front of him.

The tension was palpable, the air thick with unspoken words. You couldn't bear it, the weight of the silence, the way his presence was overwhelming, intoxicating.

"Y/n, that's a lovely name. How did you meet our brother?" Rebekah asked, her voice slicing through the silence like a knife.

You blinked, struggling to compose yourself. "We met at a gallery. I was, um, critiquing some of the art, and he agreed."

Rebekah chuckled, "Sounds like Klaus."

Elijah remained silent, his expression unreadable. Rebekah gave him a strange look, then turned her attention back to you.

"How long have the two of you been together?" she asked.

"Oh, we're not. Together. We're just friends." You managed a small laugh, trying to hide the panic in your voice.

"Klaus? Friends? Impossible," Kol interjected, his tone teasing.

"Well, we're friendly," you said, avoiding the subject entirely.

A waiter came by and filled your wine glass, and you thanked him, downing half the glass in one go. The alcohol was a welcome distraction, burning a warm path down your throat.

"How are you liking New Orleans?" Rebekah asked, her tone a little more casual.

"It's amazing, honestly. The energy here is unlike anything I've ever experienced. The people, the music, the history." You paused, the corner of your mouth lifting into a small smile. "I can see why people fall in love with this city."

Rebekah smiled, "It does have its charms."

Klaus returned, settling into his seat beside you, his hand resting on the back of your chair.

"So, what have you been discussing?"

"Oh, just the usual. How we're all shocked you've found a friend," Kol said.

Klaus snorted, "Hardly. I have plenty of friends."

"Yes, but they're not usually women," Kol retorted.

"That's not true Kol, he also has Cami," Rebekah chimed in.

Klaus removed his hand from the back of your chair, his cheeks growing slightly pink. He looked down, busying himself with filling his plate, his posture defensive.

Kol let out a laugh and pointed down to the other end of the table. "What's wrong Nik, don't want her to hear?"

You followed his gaze, landing on a pretty blonde who was chatting animatedly with some of the other guests.

"You didn't tell us Camille was coming," Rebekah said.

"It didn't seem important," Klaus muttered, not meeting anyone's eyes.

You had no idea who this girl was, but clearly, Klaus had a thing for her. You could practically feel the awkward tension radiating off him.

He was sweet, but a little rough around the edges. It made sense that he'd be a bit of a mess when it came to his love life.

You couldn't help but smile at that.

"She's beautiful," you said sincerely, nudging him playfully.

Klaus sighed, finally meeting your gaze. "You think?"

"Definitely." You paused, watching his face soften a little. "Why don't you go talk to her?"

Klaus shook his head, a wry smile playing on his lips. "You're not supposed to encourage me, love."

"Why not? Isn't that what friends do?" You grinned.

His eyes narrowed, his expression playful as he leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear. "If I'm with her I'm not with you. Where would that leave us, hmm?"

Before you could respond, Elijah abruptly stood, his chair scraping against the floor. "Excuse me."

All of you watched him walk out of the room, his sudden departure startling everyone.

"Is he alright?" Rebekah asked, her tone worried.

Kol shrugged. "He's been in a mood lately."

"You know how fussy he can get about dinner parties," Klaus said, his tone dismissive.

The rest of the dinner was a blur. You tried your best to engage in conversation, but the weight of Elijah's presence was suffocating, drowning out the noise. He had returned halfway through the meal, his expression stony, his movements stiff and calculated. He didn't look at you, not once, but you could feel his gaze on you, heavy and intense, every time he thought no one was paying attention.

Klaus had taken your advice and made a point to speak with Cami, his body language betraying how flustered he was. He was trying so hard, and it was equal parts amusing and heartwarming.

It was almost enough to distract you from the fact that Elijah was in the same room.

Almost.

As the meal came to an end, the crowd started to thin, people milling about the room, talking and laughing.

Klaus was engrossed in conversation with Cami, his eyes never leaving her face. You smiled to yourself, happy to see him making progress.

You scanned the room, noticing that Elijah was nowhere in sight. Without thinking, you excused yourself, walking through the grand hallways, searching.

You didn't know what you were looking for, or why. But the thought of him being so close, yet out of reach, was too much to bear.

The house was enormous, and as you wandered the hallways, you realized just how impossible it would be to find him. You went up a few floors, finding rooms filled with more art, more artifacts, more history. It was mesmerizing, a window into a world you had never experienced.

Finally, you reached a hallway lined with bedrooms, each one as opulent as the last. You were about to turn around and head back downstairs when a door opened, and Elijah stepped out, freezing as soon as he saw you.

A long silence stretched between the two of you, the air thick with tension.

He was even more handsome than you remembered, his dark hair slightly disheveled, his face flushed. He looked upset, his jaw clenched, his posture stiff.

You swallowed hard, fighting the urge to run. To flee and never look back. But you couldn't. Something in his expression kept you rooted in place.

"Hi," you said softly, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Hello," he replied, his voice smooth, but laced with an emotion you couldn't quite identify.

"I'm, um, sorry to bother you. I was just... looking for the bathroom." You winced, realizing how flimsy the excuse was.

"Right." His eyes searched your face, his brow furrowing.

"Sorry," you repeated, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze.

"There's no need to apologize," he said, his expression softening a little. "I'm sure this is all... unexpected."

"Yeah, it is," you breathed.

Another tense silence passed between the two of you. Elijah looked conflicted, his eyes filled with an emotion you couldn't decipher.

"You didn't tell me you had a brother," you said, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop them.

Elijah's eyes narrowed, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. "We didn't exactly do a lot of talking about our personal lives,"

Your face burned. "Right, yeah. Sorry, I wasn't... trying to accuse you of anything," you stammered.

Elijah sighed, running a hand through his hair. "No, I'm sorry… That was a poor choice of words."

You nodded, chewing on your lip. The two of you were both obviously uncomfortable.

"Look, I... I don't know what to say, really. This is... weird. Like, insanely weird," you said.

Elijah laughed, a sound that was a mix of relief and nervousness. "Agreed."

You took a deep breath, steeling your nerves. "I... honestly didn't think I would ever see you again."

"I didn't either."

"And now..."

"And now."

You hesitated, your heart thumping in your chest as you took a tentative step forward. "What are the odds, huh?"

"Quite low, I imagine."

You laughed, a soft, breathless sound. "I guess the universe had other plans."

Elijah's expression shifted, a hint of vulnerability breaking through his mask. He looked conflicted, as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't bring himself to.

Instead he took a deep breath, his voice softer, gentler, "I'm glad you're doing well,"

"You too," you managed, fighting the urge to reach out and touch him, to close the distance between the two of you.

"I should probably get back," you said, not really wanting to.

"Of course," he murmured, not moving away from you, his gaze intense.

You lingered for a moment, neither of you willing to break eye contact. It was strange, surreal. A feeling you couldn't put into words. It pulled you in, and before you knew it, you were moving towards him, drawn by some invisible force.

His hand came up, wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer. His lips met yours, soft, but urgent, and you melted into him, the familiarity of his touch making your heart ache.

You weren't sure how long you stood there, kissing him, holding him, your hands tangled in his hair, his body pressed against yours. It was like no time had passed, the two of you falling back into the same pattern, the same rhythm.

He guided you backwards until you hit a side table, your back pressing against the polished wood. He lifted you, his lips never leaving yours as he sat you on the edge, his body caging you in.

His hands slid up your thighs, pushing your dress up, his eyes darkening as his fingers brushed the lace of your underwear.

You pulled back, just enough to look into his eyes, your hands grasping the front of his shirt, needing to feel the warmth of his skin, the beating of his heart.

"I haven't been able to get you out of my mind," he murmured, kissing down your neck.

"Me neither," you admitted, a small moan escaping your lips as his teeth grazed your collarbone.

He lifted your thighs, planting your feet on the edge of the table, spreading your legs wide, his hips pressed flush against yours.

You could feel the hardness of him, the proof of his desire for you, and it sent a wave of heat straight through your core.

You wanted him. Badly. More than you could ever remember wanting anything.

"We shouldn't do this here," you breathed, his lips tracing the shell of your ear.

"I don't care," he whispered, his fingers tugging at the hem of your dress, sliding the fabric up to your hips.

"Someone might see."

"Good," he said softly, his lips curling into a smirk, just inches from yours. "Let them see."

You gasped, arching your back as his fingers found the wetness between your legs, his movements slow and deliberate, teasing you. He slowly circled your clit, drawing lazy patterns, his gaze fixed on your face, taking in every detail, every reaction.

You tugged on his shirt, trying to anchor yourself, to keep from getting swept away. Your heart was hammering, the heat building in your core, the anticipation making you dizzy.

He pushed a finger inside you, then another, his movements firm and steady, his thumb circling your clit. He was taking his time, drawing it out, his eyes never leaving yours, his gaze filled with something raw and intense.

It was that same feeling as before, the one that made you do things you wouldn't normally do. The one that made you feel alive.

Your legs trembled, your body trembling as he brought you to the edge, only to pull back. His fingers teased your entrance, before sinking deep inside you, curling and hitting that spot that made your vision blur.

"Fuck," you gasped, gripping his shoulders, trying desperately to hold on.

He grinned and moved to his knees, his eyes locking on yours, and it was almost too much. The sight of him, kneeling before you, his dark gaze burning into yours, his fingers still buried inside you.

He pulled his fingers from your core, the emptiness almost unbearable, and his tongue flicked over your clit. You cried out, a strangled, broken sound, and he chuckled, the vibrations making your toes curl.

He licked and sucked and teased, his movements perfectly measured, knowing exactly what to do, where to touch. He devoured you, his lips and tongue working in tandem, his fingers sinking back into you, stretching you open, filling you.

You felt yourself hurtling towards the edge, the pressure building, your legs shaking, your fingers tangled in his hair. He looked up at you, his eyes blazing with a mixture of desire and hunger, and it was all too much.

You came, your vision whiting out, his name a strangled cry on your lips. He kept going, working you through the aftershocks, his touch gentle, coaxing, until finally, he stopped, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh.

"Beautiful," he murmured, his voice hoarse.

He stood, and you caught a glimpse of the bulge straining against his trousers, before he leaned down, his lips meeting yours, the taste of yourself lingering on his tongue.

He kissed you, deep and slow, and you felt the loss of his touch acutely, the emptiness inside you almost unbearable. You reached for him, fumbling with his belt, desperate to feel him, to have him inside you.

"I can't believe we are doing this," you muttered, laughing nervously as his zipper came down. "Again," you added, the word barely a whisper.

"Neither can I," he admitted, a small, wry smile on his lips.

"This is insane."

"I'm well aware."

You slipped your hand inside his trousers, the feel of his bare skin against yours sending a jolt of pleasure straight through your core. He let out a soft groan, his hips pressing against yours, his body urging you on.

"Don't get me pregnant," you half joked, your voice a strained whisper.

He laughed, the sound rich and deep, the warmth of his breath fanning across your cheek.

"I won't."

You tugged at his trousers, pulling them down just enough to free him. His cock sprang free, hard and throbbing, and you wrapped your fingers around his shaft, stroking him slowly, the velvety skin sliding under your palm.

He pressed the head of his cock against your entrance, teasing you, his lips brushing yours.

"Do it," you breathed, the need coursing through your veins.

He thrust forward, filling you completely, his fingers digging into your thighs. You moaned, the feeling of him inside you, stretching you, consuming you.

He set a slow, deliberate pace, trying not to cause the table to creak and rock. It was sensual and maddening, the feeling of his cock easing in and out of you, his breathing ragged, his hands holding onto you for dear life.

The pleasure was overwhelming, your body tightening around him, drawing him in, trying to keep him there. He pressed his forehead to yours, his lips grazing your jaw, his hips snapping into yours, harder and faster, the filthy sounds of your bodies colliding echoing through the empty hall.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and labored, his hands moving down your back and under your ass, pulling you flush against him.

Your fingers twisted in the fabric of his shirt, your eyes squeezed shut, your entire world focused on the feel of him inside you.

It was like nothing else mattered, nothing existed except the two of you, joined together in the most intimate way.

He held you, his movements growing more frantic, his thrusts uneven and jerky, and you could feel him coming apart. He bit down on your shoulder, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass, his cock pulsing inside you as he spilled his release.

The two of you stayed like that, awkwardly settled on the table, trying to catch your breath, to come down from the high.

After a moment, he straightened, tucking himself back into his trousers and running a hand through his hair, his cheeks flushed.

"That was..." he trailed off, searching for the right word.

"Intense," you offered, as he helped you stand.

"Indeed," he murmured, a small, satisfied smile on his lips.

He pulled you in for another kiss, his fingers tangling in your hair, his lips soft and warm. You melted into him, losing yourself in the feeling of his body against yours.

After a long moment, he pulled back, his eyes filled with an emotion you couldn't decipher. He cleared his throat, the moment breaking, the reality of the situation crashing down around you.

"Well, I should... um, get back," you said, the words hanging in the air, awkward and stilted. "Before anyone notices we're gone,"

"No need, we all heard you two," Klaus' voice echoed through the hall, startling you both.

You turned to see him leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest, a smug grin on his face.

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, and you hastily fixed your dress, Elijah stepped in front of you, blocking the sight from his brother.

Klaus let out a laugh, "oh no need for all that Elijah, it's nothing I haven't seen before," he drawled.

"What are you doing here?" Elijah demanded, his tone laced with annoyance.

"Well, I was looking for my Y/n. You wandered off and then I heard these distressing sounds coming from the hallway. So naturally, I came to investigate," he paused, his eyes roaming over your body, his gaze filled with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. "And here you are,"

"I, uh, got lost," you offered weakly, still a little stunned.

"In his pants?" Klaus smirked, his gaze traveling between the two of you.

You were speechless, not quite sure what to say. It was humiliating, being caught like this, exposed and vulnerable. There were clearly a lot of complicated feelings between the two of them, things that had nothing to do with you.

Elijah wrapped his arm around your waist, it surprised you, the way he pulled you against him, as if he was claiming you. You glanced up at him, the look on his face unreadable. He seemed unfazed by Klaus' accusation, his expression carefully neutral.

"If you must know, we ran into each other," Elijah said evenly, his hand stroking the small of your back. "We know each other from... Another city."

"Oh, really? How serendipitous," Klaus replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Yes, it is," Elijah said simply, his posture relaxed.

Klaus shook his head, his eyes darting between the two of you, the realization slowly dawning on him. "Wait... That hook-up you were telling me about? The old fling you couldn't get out of your head? That's... Elijah?"

You nodded, your cheeks burning so hot they could melt ice.

Klaus began to laugh, a deep, genuine belly laugh. He wiped at his eyes, his whole body shaking with amusement. "This is too much. This is... I don't even know what to say."

Elijah sighed, his jaw clenched, but his eyes amused. "I would prefer it if you didn't say anything."

"Oh, come on, this is funny," Klaus said, taking a step closer. "You're the reason she was all hung up and miserable,"

"Miserable?" Elijah frowned, glancing down at you.

"Klaus, stop," you pleaded, the humiliation making your chest ache.

"What?" He shrugged. "I'm just stating facts. You were a mess because of him."

Elijah's eyes searched yours, his expression conflicted. His hand was still on the small of your back, and he rubbed it in small, soothing circles.

"Niklaus, if you don't mind, I wish to have a private conversation with her," Elijah said, his tone firm.

"Alright, fine, but do try to keep it down, hmm? We have guests," Klaus winked at the two of you, turning on his heel and heading down the hallway.

You watched him walk away, then you leaned up and kissed Elijah on the cheek. "I'll be right back, okay?"

He nodded, his gaze following you as you walked down the hallway after Klaus.

"Nik!" You called, catching up to him.

"Yes, love?"

"Look, I'm sorry," you said, trying to gauge his reaction.

"For what?" He looked genuinely confused.

"For... sleeping with Elijah," you said, a little unsure.

Klaus laughed, his expression light and teasing. "We were never going to work out, love. Our hearts belong to others,"

"I know," you shrugged. “But still... He's your brother,"

"And you love him," Klaus said simply, a small, knowing smile on his lips.

"What? No, I... I don't even know him, not really," you protested.

"You will, and he'll love you, too," Klaus said, his voice surprisingly gentle.

"It doesn't matter. It was just... sex," you tried to explain.

"Was it, though?"

"Yes," you insisted, trying to ignore the nagging voice in the back of your head, the one that knew he was right.

Klaus shook his head, his gaze softening a little. He pulled you in for a hug, his arms wrapping around you, holding you close.

"Listen, it's none of my business. But if there's something between the two of you, some spark or whatever... Don't let it go. Life's too short for regrets,"

You pulled back, looking up at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. "Thank you, Nik,"

"Of course," he replied, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "And do try to be a bit more discreet, hmm? You two aren't exactly quiet."

You groaned, burying your face in your hands, trying to hide the blush creeping across your cheeks. "I'll try."

He laughed, and then headed back downstairs to rejoin the party. Off to find Cami, no doubt.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, and made your way back to Elijah, his eyes fixed on you, an intensity in his gaze that made your heart race.

You reached out, taking his hand, his fingers lacing with yours, and he led you to his room, the door closing softly behind the two of you.

You stood in the middle of his bedroom, the air thick with tension, everything was happening so fast.

"So," he began, his voice low and soft.

"So," you echoed, a nervous smile tugging at your lips.

Elijah exhaled, slow and measured, but there was no hiding the tension in his posture. “Are you going to run again?”

The question hung between you, weighted with more than just tonight.

You swallowed hard, your fingers twitching at your sides. You owed him the truth.

“Elijah…” You took a step closer, your voice unsteady. “I ran because I was scared.”

His jaw clenched slightly, but he stayed silent, letting you speak.

“I told myself that what we had was casual. That it didn’t mean anything. But then you started looking at me like I was something more.” Your throat tightened. “Like I mattered. And that scared the hell out of me.”

His expression softened, just a fraction, but his silence pressed against you like a weight.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to keep going. “I didn’t know how to handle the way you made me feel.” Your voice was quieter now, raw. “I thought if I ran, I could outrun it. But I didn’t. I never did. Because no matter where I went, no matter what I did, you were always there.”

A beat passed. Then two. And then his hand was cupping your cheek, his eyes searching yours.

“And now?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“And now…” You took a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’m standing here. With you. And I don’t want to run anymore.”

His thumb brushed against your cheek, his touch gentle but firm. “Good,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Because I’m not letting you go this time.”

You leaned into his touch, your eyes closing as his lips met yours in a kiss that was both tender and desperate. It was a promise, a commitment, a declaration of everything you’d both been too afraid to say.

When you finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “Stay,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “Not just tonight. Always.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you nodded, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Always,” you echoed, your voice steady despite the emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

You kissed him again, slow and sweet, the familiar taste of him flooding your senses. He was everything you'd been missing, everything you'd needed. There was so much more left to say, but it would have to wait. In this moment, there was only the two of you, tangled together, a promise of something more. This was where you were meant to be, you were sure of it.

~Epilogue

The first thing you registered was warmth. The kind that seeped into your bones, wrapped around you like a quiet reassurance. You stirred, blinking against the soft glow of morning light filtering through the curtains. The sheets were tangled around your legs, the scent of him lingering in the fabric.

Elijah's arm was draped over your waist, his breathing deep and steady against the back of your neck. The weight of him, the solid presence at your side, was grounding in a way you hadn’t expected. You hadn’t realized how much you missed waking up with someone... not just anyone, but him.

For a moment, you didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

Because this felt… real. Permanent.

And for the first time in a long time, the thought didn’t terrify you.

You shifted slightly, your fingers ghosting over his forearm where it rested against your stomach. He stirred behind you, his grip instinctively tightening, pulling you closer.

“Second thoughts?” His voice was husky with sleep, laced with quiet amusement.

You smiled, a warm flush spreading through you.

"Not a single one," you murmured, turning in his arms, your gaze meeting his.

"Good," he murmured, his hand sliding up your back, pulling you flush against him.

It felt... Right. Like you'd always belonged here, in his bed, his arms. Like he'd always been the one, waiting for you.

There was no more running.

No more fear.

Just this.

Just him.

[eddiesghxst]

hellow, i’m officially done with school for the next year or so which means (if u haven’t already noticed) i’ve started to write 50 wips <3

so anyway, here’s a snippet of something im writing about dom!eddie who’s also a tattoo artist who just so happens to own a tattoo parlor that’s right next to a ballet studio which just so happens to be owned by ballet instructor!reader

18+ — MINORS DNI

It was a series of unfortunate events.

You had spent the last five years of your life building your ballet school from the ground up, but when your old studio was sold out from under you, you were forced to find a new home for your students.

It wasn’t easy. There weren’t many options for you to choose from and most buildings either needed an immense amount of work that your pockets couldn’t afford or were too far away and would inevitably cause you to lose students.

But then you stumbled on a dream. The new studio was perfect— freshly installed tiling, beautiful acoustics, and the fee to install the mirrors wasn’t all that bad— except for one small detail: the tattoo parlor next door.

For the months that you spent preparing the studio for your students, you were tormented with the constant buzz of needles and the faint scent of ink lingers in the air all day, mixing with the sharp fragrance of floor polish and irritation that comes with summer heat. It nearly drove you insane.

But what started as a nuisance soon flourished into something else entirely. The tattoo shop’s owner, a tall, inked-up man named Eddie, was there every morning, the storefront always open to the bustling world outside. Your first conversation had been brief— you introduced yourself, explained how you ended up here and he wished you a good start to your new building.

It wasn’t until a few months down the line that you finally caved and complained about the noise, telling him it was difficult to focus with the loud sounds from his shop and Eddie— surprisingly, since you had somewhat painted him a villain in your mind— apologized and said he’d try to keep the noise down— “I can’t promise the same on the days I don’t work, though. My team tends to never listen to me.”

And so then you and Eddie formed a very nice, casual, and polite relationship. Something like a work relationship. A nice smile and wave in the morning, small and quick conversations about the week— and sometimes, he would get you a coffee and slide it on your desk while you’re busy with your morning class.

But as weeks passed, your casual exchanges became… something more— quick morning greetings turned into full blown conversations and free coffees turned into free lunches— “The deli down the street always gives me an extra sandwich.” And you almost think he’s lying about that, but he never really leaves you room to further pry about it. Lingering looks, shared laughs, and an unspoken connection grew deeper with each passing day.

But it started and ended at work— there on Blackburn Avenue where your ballet studio and his tattoo parlor share a sidewalk— and it never left. And you never expected it to be more— Eddie is more of a work crush anyway. You talk and flirt for the few hours that you share a wall, and when you go home you watch your reality TV shows, eat dinner, and think nothing of it.

But what the hell do you do when you walk into a BDSM club and see your work crush on a stage, knuckle’s deep in a pretty girl, with a bunch of strangers watching— including yourself?

What do you do when the pretty boy that owns the shop next to your studio is on a stage, whispering dirty praises in a girls ear and finger fucking her until her thighs shake? What do you do when you realize— oh fuck, I should probably leave since I actually know this guy and we’re kind of coworkers, but you stay like the idiot you are?

And what do you do when his pretty brown eyes (which look even dreamier when they’re blown out and dark with lust) glance up from the woman below him and just happen to immediately land on you?

What the fuck do you do?

[puckbunnyera]

Silver Spoons | Q. Hughes

• ──────────────♡────────────── •

pairing: quinn hughes x reader genre: angst, fluff word count: 2.1k warnings: none summary: insecurities rise to the surface when meeting quinn's family for the first time author's note: writing is a little (very) rusty after being away for so long but i came up with this idea while listening to a song i found through tiktok. the song is silver spoons (demo) by erin lecount. definitely suggest listening to the song before or while reading to really set the tone. it can be found on soundcloud and youtube. tried to link it but it wasn't working :(.

• ──────────────♡────────────── •

I stare at the house you were brought up in All the photographs and door frames are wooden I wish I'd known you when you were younger Before lovers

To say you were nervous would be the understatement of the century. Anxiety holds you tightly in her grasp and floods your mind with the dreadful thoughts that you had been trying so hard to keep away. What if they didn't like you? What if they didn't think you were good enough? What if they noticed how different you were from them? What if they thought you didn't fit into the perfect life they had created for themselves? Your thoughts were running wild and dragging your bruised heart around with them.

"You okay?" Quinn's voice soft and gentle as he slips his hand into yours.

"Yeah, of course." You give him a tight-lipped smile, hoping he won't be able to sense the internal chaos you are experiencing. He does, though. Even if he doesn't say it, you know he does because Quinn notices everything with you.

"Let's head in." He speaks, pressing a light kiss to your temple. "Can put our stuff away in the room then head out into the backyard. Everyone is already here."

"Okay." You nod, voice barely above a whisper.

As he leads you through the beautiful home he was raised in, you look around in awe at the memories held in pretty wooden picture frames hanging on the walls and sitting on tables. You can tell it was a house full of love and happiness. While it's always warmed your heart to know that the amazing man you had the luck of calling yours was the result of such a wonderful upbringing, you can't ignore the painful twinge you feel deep down.

Stepping into Quinn's childhood room, your eyes are immediately drawn to a picture, sitting on his dresser next to the door, of younger Quinn with his family sitting happily on the couch together next to a Christmas tree. The trio stand in the driveway, wearing rollerblades and holding hockey sticks, big smiles plastered on their faces. It brings a smile to your own face.

"How old were you here?" You ask Quinn as you feel him move to stand behind you after putting your bags down.

"Fourteen, maybe." He replies, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder as you both examine the photo.

"You were so cute." You speak softly, a longing feeling pulling at your heartstrings. You wished you could've known younger Quinn. When things were simple and life wasn't so complicated.

"I was? Am I not cute now?" He asks in mock offense.

"You know what I mean." You roll your eyes playfully and nudge him softly with your elbow, drawing a laugh from him.

"Come on. Let's go meet everyone." He pulls away. You instantly mourn the loss of his warmth but settle with the feeling of his fingers intertwining with yours as he pulls you out of the room.

And I bet you grew up eating at the table Fed love from silver spoons, reasons to be grateful

You feel overwhelmed the moment you step out into the backyard. Quinn's parents and brothers are already seated at the dinner table that was set up, talking and laughing. You do your best to swallow down the panic that's trying to force its way up your throat as Quinn pulls you in their direction. You're only given about thirty seconds to calm yourself before you're standing in front of them.

"Quinn!" Ellen exclaims, standing up pulling her oldest son into a warm embrace. "I'm so glad you both made it safely."

"Hey," He returns her hug before stepping back and placing a comforting hand on the small of your back. "This is Y/N. Y/N, this is my mom, Ellen, my dad, Jim, and my brothers, Luke and Jack."

"Hi, it's nice to meet you." You wave shyly, giving them the best smile you could muster amidst your inner turmoil.

"It's so nice to finally met you, too." Ellen steps closer before pulling you into a hug. You hesitate briefly before returning the unexpected affection. When she steps back and returns to her seat, Quinn leads you to the two chairs left empty for you both to sit.

"Quinn has told us so much about you. All good things, of course. It's nice to finally put a name to the face." Jim speaks once you're settled at the table.

"You as well." You blush. "I won't lie and say that haven't been nervous about this trip, but I've been wanting to meet the people who raised him to be the amazing person that he is."

"Oh, please." Ellen laughs, shaking her head. "You're making me blush. And there is absolutely nothing to be nervous about. We are so happy that you are here."

"How did Quinn manage to bag you?" Jack scoffs, a playful spark in his eyes. "I mean, just look at him. You could've done so much better."

"Like who?" Quinn glares at his brother. "You?"

"You said it, not me." Jack raises his hands in mock defense.

"Excuse my meathead of a brother. We're not all like that." Luke jokes. "It's nice to meet you, Y/N."

"You, too."

Shortly after initial greeting, food starts being passed around as everyone starts asking you questions about yourself. What do you do for a living? How did you meet Quinn? How is life in Vancouver? Where did you grow up? The questions seem endless, but you answer them with kindness and grace, mentally patting yourself on the back for managing to keep composure under the pressure you were feeling. As the dinner goes on, the tension in you eases, and you're able to genuinely laugh and smile. It's clear in how comfortable everyone is that this is just another evening dinner for them. Something that they've obviously spent years doing.

I spilt the good wine, I panicked A disaster, a knee-jerk reaction Then everyone around us starts laughing Is that how it's supposed to happen?

"Hey, Y/N?" Luke calls from across the table. "Could you pass me the bread basket?"

"Of course." You smile, picking it up to simply hand it to him. If only life was that easy for you. You watch in horror as the wine bottle in the middle of the table topples over, spilling the dark red liquid onto the white tablecloth. "Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry!" You jump up from your seat, grabbing napkins and throwing them over the mess. Tears threaten to spill as embarrassment floods through you.

"Baby, it's okay." Quinn stands to help you.

"Let me go grab some more napkins." Ellen rises from her hand and heads into the house. Once the mess is cleaned everyone settles back in at the table.

"I'm really sorry." You apologize again.

"It's no big deal." Jim shrugs it off with a chuckle.

"Are you sure? I can pay you back. That looked really expensive."

"It's okay, Y/N. Really." Ellen shakes her head.

A warm hand slide across your thigh, squeezing gently and settling your bouncing leg that you hadn't even realized was moving in the throes of your anxiety. He leans over and presses a comforting peck against to the side of your head.

"Definitely not the worst thing to happen at the dinner table." Luke laughs. "One time, Jack and Quinn got into and spilt a whole pot of soup. It got everywhere."

"I completely forgot about that." Jack gasps, laughing at the memory that has resurfaced. And like that, the wine incident is forgotten and everyone moves on.

We're the product of love that we do not receive I'll corrupt every branch of this family tree --- Silver spoons and butter knives Living hand to mouth, I'm getting by Just feed me love and give it time Oh, maybe in another life

After dinner, you and Quinn make your way up to his room to turn in for the night. As you move through the motions of getting dressed into your sleepwear, a pair of sleep shorts and one of Quinn's shirts, your mind has taken you elsewhere. Everything has been going well, but you can't help but feel a sense of sadness. And a little bit of guilt. Sadness at the fact that you are clearly an outsider in the perfect family that Quinn belongs to. Happiness and love seem to come so easy for them, but your life has been so different, and it shows.

You grew up in a home where love was conditional. It wasn't given unless you gave something in return that benefited the other person. Your parents weren't the type to ask you how your day was. They didn't show up to support you at school events or hold you when you were feeling down. When you made little mistakes here and there, you were treated as if you committed the crime of the century. Yelling and cursing were a common occurrence. Show of emotions and shed tears were met with eye rolls and ridicule. You spent your life walking on eggshells around the people who were supposed to love you. You learned to only depend on yourself, trust no one, and expect absolutely nothing from everyone. Until Quinn, and that's where the guilt comes in. Guilt for wishing you'd had better parents than the ones you had. Guilt for wishing your life had been different. Guilt for being ungrateful when your life could have been worse. Guilt for being imperfect in the presence of those who seemed to have it all. It was eating away at you and you didn't know how to make it stop.

"Babe?" Quinn calls, voice quiet and cautious as he approaches you.

"Hmmm?"

"Where did you go?" He strokes your cheek softly and carefully with the back of his fingers.

"Sorry. It's nothing." You shake your head, crawling into your side of the bed and laying down.

"Talk to me." He lays down beside you, turning to face you. "Somethings wrong. You forget how good I've gotten at reading you."

"Nothing's wrong, but that's the problem." You sigh, caving in. Knowing that you can't hide anything from him.

"I'm confused."

"Tonight's been absolutely amazing. Your family is amazing and perfect. You are amazing and perfect."

"But?"

"But I feel like I don't belong here. I feel like we come from too different worlds. This life you live, and the relationship you have with your family is completely for to me." You release a shaky breath as the tears you held in all night slowly start to cascade down your cheeks. "And I'm scared that I'll just end up corrupting it somehow. You are the most amazing thing to ever happen to me, and I don't want to fuck this up, but it feels like it's inevitable. Bound to happen eventually."

"You could never fuck this up." He lifts a hand to softly brush away your tears. "You've told me that your home life was never the greatest, but don't do this. Don't compare yours to mine and make yourself feel like you've done something wrong. You haven't done anything wrong. What happened has clearly hurt you in ways that I could never understand, but don't let it define you. You might not see it, but to me, you are perfect just the way you are."

"I just want to be good enough for you."

"You are good enough for me. More than enough. I wish you could see that." He sighs, leaning forward and kissing you softly. "I making a promise to you that I will spend every day showing you that and proving it to you until you start to see it for yourself. I know it will take time, but that's fine with me. Because this. Us. Is end game. You are end game for me."

"You are too patient with me."

"And you aren't patient enough with yourself. It's okay though because I have enough patience for the both of us."

"I don't deserve you."

"It's the other way around, sweet girl." He pecks your nose. "I love you."

"I love you, too." You curl into him, pressing as close to him as you can.

"Now sleep." He wraps his arms tightly around you. "I'm pretty sure my mom has put together a whole itinerary of things for us to do tomorrow so you'll need the rest." He chuckles.

"Goodnight, Quinny." You murmur, sleep ready to whisk you away.

"Goodnight, my love."

[respectthepetty]

I don't mind cheating (plots), so I'm thrilled to see what sex is going to be like for Hagiwara Kazuaki and Nakarai Sei next episode since I think it's going to be life-changing!

Especially because this was Sei's fantasy with Fujisawa, who shares the same name with Hagiwara, yet the real sex with Hagiwara seems to have more emotion involved due to the warm coloring of the scene above.

When Fujisawa says he doesn't like being impulsive, Sei says that being a man of action is a good thing, and Sei is also the one who presents Hagiwara with the counterargument that there are two types of men: those who seize the opportunity to have sex, and those who don't.

So Hagiwara being the one to initiate the sexual part of their relationship by politely letting Sei know he wants to have sex with him will be perfect since that is the type of man Sei wants, and Hagiwara only believed he was being polite to his girlfriend so he could have sex, yet he has been polite to Sei the entire time without intentionally wanting to have sex with him.

So the sex will finally show both men what they have been missing.

Hagiwara told Sei that his eyelashes were beautiful at the company dinner.

And he also wanted Sei to get his foot checked so he didn't hurt his waist.

Basically, he has been eyeing Sei's body since the beginning.

And it's always been sexual.

But he dismisses it because he just thinks it's because he is horny.

Yet he is only looking at Sei. He doesn't look at his friends or other people like he looks at Sei. He doesn't even really seem to care that other people are around since he is always thinking about Sei.

Hagiwara wants to see Sei, and more importantly, he wants Sei.

He sent a follow-up email after his first incorrectly sent email. He asked Sei for his email after Sei said he didn't have a LINE account. He asked Sei to dinner after work on Wednesday. He has been the one to close the distance between them.

Because he hates the distance that has grown in his relationship.

And Sei's in love with a man whose entire career is built on creating distance.

But these two no longer want the coldness that comes with that distance. They want the warmth of intimacy, and they don't need sex for that because they were intimate with each other before they even knew who the other person actually was.

Does Fujisawa know that Sei not only has met Hagiwara several times outside of work, but that they work together too?

Does Kaori know what they write about in the follow-up emails?

And that's why I don't mind cheating (plots) because it's not always black and white. This show revolves around how important sex is in a relationship, but it's really about what makes a relationship when sex is removed. So if both men can be in a sexless relationship, then both could also be having a sexless affair.

The relationship they have with their partners is superficial. They cannot be honest with the people they live with because anytime they try to be, their partners quickly end the conversation. They don't actually share their lives with those people because when they do, their partners run away. Instead they've been telling every little intimate detail to each other, so the affair started without sex.

They've been warming up to each other through all of their conversations.

Which is why the sex is about to be 🔥🔥🔥

It has to be, so they can finally set their cold existences aflame and burn their lives down.

[overtaken-stream]

Sweet Mornings

Kang Dae-ho x Gn!Reader

I did try to keep the reader gender neutral, but if you spot anything that's not GN please tell me so that I can fix it!

Summary: Dea-ho never fails to notice the beauty in something he has seen hundreds of times.

Warnings: No squid game, no debt, just bliss and mostly fluff, but watch out for a tiny explicit portion at the end.

Dae-ho is the kind of partner who calls you beautiful no matter how you look. To him, your appearance doesn’t matter—what truly matters is that he sees your beauty in every shape, outfit, style, and moment. Due to his inability to see you as anything but perfect, Dae-ho is considered unreliable to ask if something you're wearing looks good on you.

Every time he wakes up in your apartment, he can get drunk off the sheets that carry your perfume. The lingering body heat under the soft covers, even if one of you started the day early, lulls him back to sleep. Despite regaining consciousness just moments ago, his eyelids always feel heavier when left alone in bed. The sleeping spell can only be broken if his quiet mornings are interrupted—say, by you trying to put your clothes on in the dark, waking him up for a hot breakfast, or reminding him to lock the door when you leave for work.

His favorite, however, has to be when the blinds aren’t pulled all the way, leaving a long vertical gap for sunlight to peek through. On those mornings, he’s wide awake, feeling like a child too excited to sleep before a long-awaited school trip. And can he really be blamed? Can he be judged for staying awake to witness the domesticity of waking up by your side and watching you slowly come to your senses with the help of an alarm?

He can’t help but feel desperate when you sit upright in bed, yawning and stretching before getting up, half-naked, to put on your clothes. Your fingers firmly grasp the waistband of your trousers as you slide your legs in—completely oblivious to the view you've given him. Or perhaps you do it on purpose, just to tease him afterward (He patiently awaits the day you're bold enough to do it).

In any case, he thinks of himself as better than your average man who might gawk at a strangers bum, since it is your body and movements that always leave Dae-ho mesmerized, you, his one and only.

Sometimes, he can't help but smirk and bite down on his bottom lip, all to just to stop himself from jumping on you and taking you to a certain town, which both of you visit often.

He loves every part of you. The long and soft, the battered and sensitive ones.

It was on one of those golden mornings when Dae-ho's mind came to a conclusion.

No matter how often he gets to see you, it will never be enough. His eyes trace every movement, memorizing the curve of your body, the way the morning light kisses your skin, giving it a shine like no other, the sleepy sway of your hips as you stretch. It’s almost unfair—how effortlessly you captivate him, how easily you turn an ordinary morning into something intoxicating.

And if the way his dick pulses every morning at the sight of your ass isn’t proof enough, then maybe it’s the way his breath catches when you bend over to grab your shirt. Or the way his fingers twitch with the urge to pull you back into bed, to make you forget whatever plans you had for the day and softly caress you to your most vulnerable of places.

Because no matter how many times he gets to have you, watch you, wake up next to you—it will never, ever be enough.

He’ll wake up even when he’s old and wrinkled, watching you sleep beside him, and he’ll always be grateful for the chance to witness the same beauty he’s admired his entire life. Hundreds, if not thousands, of times, he’s seen you like this—peaceful, serene, effortlessly captivating. And yet, not once has he failed to notice. Not once has he taken it for granted.

[venomhoundfanworks]

Hazbin Hotel - Breakfast

I heard someone use a pickup line along the lines of; "How about I have you for breakfast?" I thought it was both hilarious and got... strangely inspired from it? So here I am writing a Lucifer/Reader story using it as the prompt. (๑˃́ꇴ˂̀๑)

Summery: You wake up to wonderfully melodic Lucifer cooking you a breakfast fit for a king. However, food is the last thing on your mind with how the beautiful angel before you keeps sensually moving his perfect body without realizing it...

Contents/WARNINGS: Gender neutral reader; reader's genitals are not mentioned; no use of y/n; oral sex, male receiving; crying during sex; Lucifer protests a bit at the start but don't worry he is super into it and its all consensual (18+), MDNI, NSFW below the cut ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

It was one of those mornings. Sleep attempting to drown you. Your mind cloudy as if you hadn't rested at all. It took awhile for you to fully wake up. But even before you did, the back of your mind knew something was wrong. Something was off. You instinctively reached for your partner, before you realized the problem.

He wasn't there.

Even in your foggy state, you started to grow concerned. Lucifer was not one to leave the bed without morning cuddles and several kisses (at the very least). If he left at all, that is. It was more accurate to call him a ‘bedbody' instead of a homebody. It wasn't until you started to get out of the bed that you smelt the wonderful aromas now filling the house. Ah, thats where he was.

You smiled to yourself as you quietly approached the kitchen. You could hear Lucifer’s singing even from down the hallway. Days like this were rare; when he woke up in such a jovial mood. But when it did happen, it made all the bad days worth it.

And today was certainly going to be worth it. You could tell by the way you were greeted by the adorable sight of Lucifer, who was still in his duck pajamas, wearing a very classic red and white heart apron. Your amused smile turned into a loving grin as you leaned on the archway, fully taking in the sight before you.

Lucifer was completely in his own head at the moment. Buzzing to and fro the entire kitchen, making three separate things at once. You highly doubted he would have noticed you come in, even discounting his morning singing and little dances around the room. You had to admit, the view from where you stood was nice. Lucifer mostly had his back turned to you, and the apron he wore accentuated his waist nicely. His ass always looked nice; but the red of the apron drew the eye and seemed to frame it perfectly.

Part of you felt bad. Here Lucifer was, making a three course breakfast for you. A experience fit for actual royalty. Yet you were too busy leering at him to care or even pay attention to what he was making. But the other part of you had to admit the truth; even if you were paying attention, you would have no idea what he was making. You were neither a chef nor royalty. Anything past eggs or pancakes was beyond you.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when you noticed Lucifer clearing down. It amazed you how efficient the angel could be when he wanted to. His decades, maybe centuries, of practice showing in how fast and precisely he put things back in their rightful place. Yet, his usual air-headedness also showed in how he simply dumped everything that was even kind of dirty into the sink to be dealt with later. You held back a chuckle, watching Lucifer grumble as he attempted to wash his hands in the now over-flowing sink. Guess it was now or never...

“Good morning, Luci.” You felt your face start to burn and you tried to subtly clear your throat. That came out much more… husky then you intended.

Lucifer must have really been in his own world. He visibly jumped and squeaked when you spoke. But as soon as his eyes landed on you, his entire being relaxed and softened. A loving, dopey grin taking over his face. “Good morning, Duckie! I made breakfast~”

His love for you was infectious. You felt yourself returning the look as you made your way across the room. Lucifer sidestepped, quickly drying his hands on a nearby towel. You wrapped your arms around the cheerful angel, hugging him from behind and resting your head in the crook of his neck. Lucifer hummed and swayed gently; nuzzling up into you and placing his hands upon yours.

The moment was serene. The moment was perfect. You would have loved for it to last forever.

But as it stood, you had a very happy; very beautiful; very handsome man in your arms. One who was sensually rubbing his ass against you without realizing it. After a few moments, you began to feel a familiar heat rising in your chest. Once again, Lucifer was completely lost in the moment; snuggling up against you. Unaware of how your eyes started to drink in his form; his still sleep tussled hair; his exposed neck…

That was what did you in.

“I missed you in the bed this morning…” You practically purred. You kissed and licked at Lucifer’s jawline. Judging by the way the angel went from practically limp in your arms one moment, to completely rigid the next; he had finally caught on. You chuckled against his skin as Lucifer let out a surprised whimper, unintentionally lolling his head back and exposing even more skin. You took the opportunity to latch onto his neck, drawing out a rather hapless, breathless cry.

Your grip on his waist tightened. Now locking his body to yours. One of Lucifer’s hands went to brace himself against the counter, while the other went up to your head as if to push you away. But when you bit down on his neck, Lucifer seemed to change his mind. His claws gripping at your hair instead.

“Oohhh-Duckie…” Now that wouldn’t do. ‘Duckie’ was your ‘cutesy’ name. The petname Lucifer used when one of you was being adorable or he was overcome with love. He never used it in the throes of passion. Clearly, you needed to try harder. You continued nipping at Lucifer’s neck, while one of your hands began to snake its way under his apron. “Duckie-Darling…” There it is.

Lucifer’s mind had started to grow cloudy once he felt your fingers on his thigh. Once you began to palm his half-hard cock, he was gone.

“Ah! Ahh-oohhh… Please-” Both of Lucifer’s clawed hands now gripped at the counter for dear life. The sudden jolts of pleasure from your hand were like raw electricity right to his brain. “Darling…” Lucifer pleaded. You were sure it was intended to be a protest, but it sounded more desperate then anything. “Its early…”

Lucifer squirmed pathetically in your hold. He made no attempts to escape but was trying his absolute hardest to not thrust his hips into your touch. Which resulted in him grinding backwards against you instead. You didn't even think Lucifer was aware of what he was doing to you. So focused on his own dick…

“Oh…oohh…” Lucifer looked down at your hand disappointedly when you stopped rubbing him through his pants. But you felt his whole body tense in excitement as he realized your hand was instead now clumsily working to free his cock. Ever the impatient man, Lucifer quickly brought his own hands down to assist you in undoing the buttons of his sleep pants.

Lucifer threw his head back against you and cried out when you finally touched him; immediately setting a slow, steady pace meant to drive the angel mad. His claws were right back against the counter; bracing himself against it like you were actually fucking him. Like he could collapse at any moment. “W-wha-what’s gotten into you..?”

Despite his attempts at verbal protest, Lucifer’s traitorous body melted into you and his breathing quickly grew ragged. You worked his shaft with steady, practiced precision; and Lucifer was a weak man ready to break.

He turned towards you and attempted to gasp out another excuse, “We-we haven’t even had breakfast yet-ahHHH-!” Lucifer interrupted his own words with an arch and a cry; ripped from him as you suddenly swiped your palm over his leaking head.

You hummed in fake thought as his hands now desperately reached back and grabbed at you. One of them latched onto the bicep of the arm that was currently pumping him. You loved the way you could feel his claws tremble. “What if I wanted you for breakfast?” You gave a toothy grin as you heard Lucifer gasp. If it was even possible, the glow of his yellow blush grew even deeper and was now spreading down his chest. He must have really liked that idea, going solely off the way you felt his cock jump in anticipation.

Lucifer whined and pleaded, arching up to chase your touch as you pulled your hands away. Desperate cries of please, please, please poured from his mouth unrestrained. But they were cut off with a yelp as you hoisted the small angel into your arms.

Lucifer immediately wrapped his lithe arms around you, his mouth moving to kiss and lick at your neck. You wondered for a moment if it was vengeance for earlier. But quickly disregarded the thought. You doubted Lucifer could think that far at the moment.

Luckily, you didn’t need to carry him all the way to the bedroom. You had the perfect spot for this, since Lucifer had yet to set the kitchen table...

You gently detached Lucifer from your neck and laid him down on the beautiful, ebony table. Lucifer did little to resist you. His eyes clouded with raw lust, and his claws moving on their own to brace themselves against the wooden surface above his head. His half-lidded eyes followed you as you circled the table like a predator. Stopping once you were able to lecherously look down upon him from in between his legs.

Your face was starting to hurt from how wide you were smiling. But you couldn't possibly help it. Not with Lucifer, the King of Hell, the Sin of Pride; sprawled out and limp on the table below you like an actual meal. Like he was the lamb being offered to a hungry god on the face of an alter.

Lucifer's face was blush stained and his eyes were pleading. Part of you wanted to tease him and make him beg, but the other part of you wanted to overwhelm him until he broke. Lucifer knew he was completely at your mercy too, with the way he trembled under your hot gaze as your eyes dragged over the sinful display he was making. You swore you could hear the faint sound of scratching against wood as your eyes roamed. Lucifer looked away in embarrassment when your eyes finally settled on his cock.

A lustful growl erupted from your throat. The apron did little to hide Lucifer’s cock; standing nearly perfectly upright, at proud attention. You could feel Lucifer’s anticipation in the air as you lifted the apron up to bunch against his waist. Quickly, you finished what the two of you had started earlier; removing his pants and tossing them carelessly to the side.

His cock was gorgeous. Subtle curve, with a wonderfully flared head. Precum dripping steadily from the tip. In that moment, you made your decision.

You were going to overwhelm him.

Lucifer let out a absolutely obscene sound as you took as much of him into your mouth as you could in one go. You heard the -CRACK- of Lucifer’s restraint snapping; the sound of his claws breaking into the surface of your once flawless table. Instinctively, Lucifer’s trembling legs spread impossibly wide for you. Your grip on his thighs tightened as you locked Lucifer in the new, wonderful position he had put himself in.

“Ah-AH-ahhh…” Lucifer’s moans had become more of a chant as you mercilessly sucked him down. There was no easing into it. It was just suddenly all tongue and throat and oh god, how did he get this lucky?

It was too much. It was not enough. Lucifer’s claws dug deeper into the wooden table, undoubtedly leaving discernible grooves of his fingers now. Lucifer felt like he was hanging on for dear life as he screwed his eyes shut, a few overwhelmed tears escaping. His entire torso twisted and writhed underneath you while his legs shook uncontrollably. He was desperate for more. He was desperate to get away. Yet, all his squirming did nothing with the iron grip you had on his pelvis.

But just as quickly as you had descended on him; you were gone. The only sound Lucifer was able to make was a protesting, wanton whine. It was as if you had sucked the very air from his lungs, leaving him panting and out of breath. Lucifer’s lust fogged eyes fluttered open to look into yours. To see why you had stopped.

“Lucifer?” You said his name so sweetly. So… unfitting of the lewd position you two were currently in. Him, spread eagle on the table in front of you; an apron the only thing hiding the shameful sight of Lucifer’s weeping, twitching cock from his own eyes. You, absentmindedly rubbing Lucifer’s inner thighs with your thumbs as you kept him spread nice and wide; the innocent look on your face betrayed by a smear of precum on the side of your mouth.

Lucifer swore you had to be an angel in that moment. Someone destined for heaven but sent here for him. Just for him. “Y-yes, Dove?”

You placed a gentle kiss to the side of his knee before smiling at him tenderly. “I love you.”

It was as if those words, those three simple words, set every nerve ending inside Lucifer alight. He simultaneously felt too aware of his own body, and as if you had suddenly knocked him out. Lucifer felt his heart stutter and skip when the words were uttered. Then each rapid pound against his ribcage that followed. But his mind was being drowned by the echoing of rushing blood. Not to mention the heat that Lucifer felt suddenly burning him from within.

“Ooohh…” It was as if the words themselves had granted Lucifer physical pleasure as he arched off the table and groaned. “I love you too…”

You gave a pleased smile before promptly returning to your previous position, taking the entirety of him into your mouth once again.

Lucifer thrashed as he brokenly cried. Maybe your words really did set his nervous system on fire. Everything felt so much more intense now. Lucifer’s eyes were wide, yet unseeing. His vision cast in a blurry haze due to the overwhelmed tears that were now streaming down his face. “Oh god, I love you.”

He didn’t last long. You knew he wouldn't either with his convulsing body and delirious declarations of love. Lucifer arched off the table, screwing his eyes shut, nearly screaming as he came. His legs shook violently and he tried in vain to spread even wider as you drank him down.

Lucifer finally went limp. Gasping for air like it had been knocked out of him. He whimpered and convulsed from oversensitivity when you pulled your mouth off him. Lucifer had cum so hard that you couldn't possibly swallow it all; leaving a coating along the side of his dick and a rather scandalous trail on the side of your face. But you paid it no mind as you went to dampen a nearby washcloth so you could clean up your lovely angel.

It took a few moments for Lucifer to gather the energy to sit up. Still leaning on his arms heavily as you returned to the table. Lucifer stared at you with complete adoration as you wiped him down. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the involuntary twitches and gasps Lucifer let loose as you cleaned him. Lucifer softly kissed your forehead, then gently brought his hands up to cradle your face as you finished.

His eyes gazed into yours lovingly. His thumb stroked your cheek, swiping away some of the cum that was left there. “So beautiful…” He murmured; making your heart skip. Even with your debauched face, Lucifer still saw you as perfect.

You had to kiss him. You couldn't resist. Lucifer met you in the middle, for a passionate, yet surprisingly chaste kiss. But you were reminded for a moment of what a devil the man in front of you actually was. When you parted, his serpentine tongue flicked out across your cheek; cleaning your face of his own spend. Lucifer laughed and licked his lips. Enjoying his own taste.

You were frozen. Ironic; considering the burning blush that had now taken over your face. Lucifer lent forward, resting his forehead against yours as he affectionately grinned.

“How about we have a real breakfast now?”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

AN: Some details that either didn't make it in or I took out because they ruined the flow:

Lucifer is singing in a “language you can’t understand”

Lucifer’s pajamas are those like button-up type pajamas. They are slightly too big so they bunch up around his ankles, he can hide his hands in the sleeves, and he can do that flappy thing with them (YOU KNOW WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT EVERYONE HAS DONE IT). But yeah just overall comfy vibes with it

The apron is like one of those stereotypical 50s housewife heart aprons lol

I might draw a picture of the pajamas and apron at some point? Who knows

LINKS AND FURTHER READING ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡

Check out my other writing on my masterlist >>HERE<<

AO3 Archive Link: >>HERE<<

If you want a combo of sweet and spicy Lucifer content, you should check out the Lucifer dating headcanons by @/twinkling-moonlillie that can be found >>HERE<<

Or if your now feral and just want more sub!Lucifer; there is a wonderfully delicious post by @/redr0sewrites over >>HERE<< that I totally haven't read multiple times (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)

[the-froschamethyst4]

She is My One and All

𖤐Pairing: Husband! Price x Wife! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: fluff, language, kissing, praising, children, married couple, use of John, overprotective, smoking,

𖤐Summary: I mean can you blame him? You carried his children for 9 months and you are so perfect, of course the man is going to be whipped for his wife

————

————

7:00PM

Getting ready for the Military Ball, Y/n was just putting in her earrings and was doing the last bit of her makeup, John was downstairs talking with his mother on not to give Beau and Iris candy after a certain time, almost like the gremlins.

"My love, are you almost done?" John came into the master bedroom and coming around the corner to the big bathroom, he shared with her.

"Almost," she says, John stops in the doorway and looks at his wife, mesmerized by how she looks in her silk white dress. She then peaks at him through the mirror. "What is it?" She asked.

"Nothing...you just look beautiful," he says.

"Thank you," she puts her brush down and walks to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his lips. "You look very handsome," she says, messing with the collar of his shirt and rolling the tie in her right hand.

"I try," he smirks.

"Mum, do you have to go?" Beau came into the bedroom.

"Yes, baby, I do, you'll have fun with grandma, you always do, what's wrong this time?" She asked.

"I just don't want you to go."

"What about me?" John looks at his son kind of offended.

"You'll be fine, you have friends there."

John just shakes his head at his son and rolls his eyes. "Whatever," John said, he placed his hand on Y/n's hip and looks at her. "You ready now?"

"Yes, come on," she grabs her purse and John grabs his keys. They told their kids goodbye, to behave, and go to bed on time, and they'll be home later tonight.

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

7:30PM

John opened the car door and helped Y/n out, she linked her hand through John's arm as they walked up to huge mansion. Y/n looks at the white marble, it was gorgeous but it wasn't drawing John's attention, his eyes were only on Y/n.

"Price!" Both John and Y/n looked to see where the voice came from and it was Kyle, he waved to both of them.

"You go on ahead, I'm gonna go find a drink," Y/n tells him.

"You are?"

"Yep," she kisses his cheek. "Go talk with them, you haven't seen them in a year, go on."

Y/n walked to the bar and had asked for a mai tai, she takes a few sips as then someone had approached her, she ignored them at first cause she knew it wasn't her husband.

"Hey," the guy said, she moves her eyes to look out of her peripheral.

"Hi," she gives him a short response.

"I see you're alone? You here with a friend, or where you part of-"

"I wasn't part of the military and I'm here with my husband," Y/n cuts the guy off. "And who are you?"

"I'm Jake Herron-well...Sargent Jake Herron," he sounds cocky, full of himself, an asshole. "I'm here alone." He adds in like that was suppose to mean anything to Y/n.

"Again, my husband," she repeats, she picks up her drink and starts moving to where the last time she saw John.

"Hey wait!" Jake grabs Y/n's wrist.

"Let go," Y/n says, trying to yank her wrist away, but Jake held a good grip on her.

"No, wait, just talk to me, give me a chance-"

"I'm sorry did you not hear me, the first time? I have a husband, I am very much NOT INTERESTED IN YOU!" She yanks her wrist, getting it freed and she slightly falls back but was caught.

"The fuck is going on?" John says, his voice deep and serious as his focus was on Jake because he knows he's the one who started it.

"Captain...I...I umm~"

"I'm pretty sure, my wife told you she is married, so get your ass moving," some of the people that were around all glared at Jake and started moving towards Jake, not touching him but instead puffing out their chests in a way and pushing him out that way.

"What was that about?" John asked, holding Y/n close to him.

"I don't know, I've never experienced that before," she says.

"And you won't again, not while I'm here," he says.

"Y/N!!" Kyle yells hugging her.

"See you're turning heads, Y/n," Simon says.

"I don't want to be," she said.

"You want a cigar?" Johnny asked Y/n, offering her one of his big cigars.

"Oh, no thank you, Johnny," Y/n politely declines as John takes one and lights it. Both Johnny, Simon and John were smoking each a cigar, while Kyle and Y/n just stood to the side listening to the guys speak.

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

8:30PM

Kyle and Y/n had walked to these couches sitting in the middle of the room while John was still with Johnny and Simon outside smoking, but John wasn't focused on the conversation anymore but was focused on his wife.

Y/n's head was resting on her hand that made a fist, she reached out and placed her hand on Kyle's hand to agree with him, her smile was bright, brighter then this Heavens Gate white lighting in this mansion.

John trusted his friends, so he isn't going to storm to Kyle and yank him off that couch and possibly chuck him out of the mansion.

"Price, you listening?" Simon says.

"Hello?" Johnny then says.

"Sorry, no, I wasn't, what were we talking about?" John said to them both.

"Never mind, you were looking at her the whole time," Simon said.

"Sorry," John says, turning and looking at her again.

"You are so fucking whipped for her," Johnny laughs and Simon chuckles.

"Of course I am...she carried my children for 9 months, and she is the woman I've been asking for my whole life...I'm fucking lucky to even have her in my life."

"Whipped," Simon says.

"You both have wives, you're not like this?" John asked.

"Oh no we are," Johnny says.

"Mine drives me absolutely mad," Simon says, putting his head back but held a smirk on his face, if you catch his drift.

"You could say that again."

"Whipped," John then says.

"John." Y/n walks up to her husband. "I think I'm ready to go." And with that sentence, John and Y/n both said their goodbyes to John's friends and headed back home for the night.

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

9:10PM

Y/n had opened the front door, John comes in behind her and before Y/n could bend down to take off her heels, John had beat her to it, lifting her foot out of the heel and placing her foot on the ground and doing the same with the other foot.

"Mum?" John calls out. He removes his jacket and Y/n walked further into the living room.

"John," she whispers. Looking over the couch there was John's mom on the couch with Beau snuggled to her left, Iris on her right and a children's book that fell on their grandma's chest. All three passed out.

"So cute," Y/n says. She picks up Iris and John picked up Beau.

John watches Y/n tuck Iris into bed and hearing a yawn they turned and saw John's mom.

"Well, good morning sleeping beauty." John jokes with her and earned a smack on his shoulder.

"You two are back early."

"Someone wanted to leave," John says.

"I just wanted to get back home," Y/n says, walking to the door and shutting it behind her. "Thank you for watching them."

"Of course, and I'll keep doing it too, they are such sweethearts."

"Well, they have a good mother." John says.

"And they have a good father," Y/n smiles up at him.

"You both are perfect."

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

John had escorted his mom to her car and waved her goodbye as Y/n was inside getting her pajamas on ready for bed.

"Mum says bye, by the way."

"I wish I was done there, but I'm so tired."

"She understands, you're a mother, and you just got back from a party basically," he says, as he starts getting his pajamas on.

John sits on the bed and gets under the covers, and cuddles close to Y/n.

"Did you have fun?"

"I did."

"What did you and Kyle talk about?"

"The good old days with you two being in the military, funny moments, stuff like that," she shrugs her shoulders.

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

Waking up the next morning, John was getting ready for his morning routine run, he was downstairs when he sees Iris come down.

"Hi, baby."

"Daddy, where's mama?"

"Still in bed."

"Where are you going?" She asked.

"Out for a run like usual."

"Can I come?"

"Not today, baby."

"Morning," Y/n says, yawning and coming down the stairs, Iris runs towards Y/n and she picks her up.

John looks at Y/n who was in one of his shirts and some shorts. Y/n then walks to him and stood on her tippy toes and kissed his lips.

"Be safe."

"I will."

"Daddy are you going to bring me back a pretty rock?"

"You know I will." John always did a few laps around a nearby park and always collected the prettiest rocks for Iris, he usually brought back 2 or 3...maybe 4 if he's lucky.

"Bye, I'll be back, soon," he smiles.

"Bye, say bye, Iris."

"Bye, daddy."

[liquorflower]

𝐥’𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞 𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐫𝐞 — 𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢

summary: the job needs to be done, the important thing right now is finishing him, but, what can you do when he’s the one who’s going to make you finish, but in the other way?

wc: 2.2k

cw: mentions of acts of terr0r1sm, edging, manhandling, creampie, reference to le charme discret de la bourgeoisie and gunplay (not in the sex) if u squint, age gap kento’s in his late 30’s and reader in early 20’s)

a/n: well, i hope you enjoy. likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated thank you

it was you, again. kento wonders if you’re not tired of making this thing over and over, because your actions just demonstrate you’re not capable of killing even a miserable cockroach. all those failed attempts at homemade bombs and now, having the audacity to enter his consulate were the straw that broke the camel’s back. first, strange events that made it impossible to have dinner with their peers and now this.

he had to teach you a lesson didn’t he?

and gazing how your hands tremble, he knew by other hand about how other revolutionaries didn’t hesitate to shoot at their oppressors. but your heart is racing, increasing euphoria you can’t even explain yourself and you don’t seem capable of pulling the trigger.

but he can play that same game.

there’s gun under the pillow of his refined bed, in his opulent room, scenario that holds the future crime scene of his murder if he doesn't play his cards right. strangely enough, he’s not scared at all, could be your ragged clothes (that’s the respective way to call that hippie fashion) or the beauty you possess that makes him have some sort of compassion for you.

“does this have any use, dear?” he wanders through the room, trying to negotiate, persuade. as he does this, he diligently gets near the bed, having a seat. “how many times are we going to get through this, hmm?” his hand slides prudent and deliberately, as his gaze remains pierced in your eyes. they seem determined, but he can tell it’s just a stupid facade.

the revolver points at the direction he’s moving. you don’t say a word and only stare at him. you are pondering on why he can be so calm in this situation, you point a goddamn weapon and you can pull the trigger at any moment, and the only thing that will remain of him will be his brain scattered all over the place. but if you were concentrated, instead of paying attention to the turmoil of your thoughts, if you had payed attention you would’ve anticipated that he was going to pull out another pistol and also point at you.

shit, it was that obvious.

“i told you, sweetie. think about it. you’re still young,” he looks you over from head to toe, plotting a machiavellian plan, “beautiful…

you gulp.“don’t bullshit me.”

“hey, let’s take it easy. i’ll give you a chance. you can give me the gun, i’ll let you go and we’ll pretend none of this happened and we can go on with our lives as always… have you ever thought to go to college? bet you do. just leave this silly idealization of this perfect world. i get it, i once was young, but you can make the difference in other ways.” he persuades. both remaining stiff. the tension is close to the surface.

something convincing in his words resonates within your brain. for example, when was the last time you’ve eaten a decent meal or have slept in a comfy bed? all you can think about are the walls of the family stained in filth and shit. and everyone on top of each other for warmth — it wasn’t a place you could call home.

you don’t know what happened, but the next thing you know, is that you hand is giving him the gun, trembling and looking at the hollow and manly cheeks of kento. he’s wearing a robe. a slight blush heats your cheeks when you realize that.

“good choice.” he slightly bows his head, a cocky smile forms in his lips. “now, be a good girl and wait for me. i’ll…” he examines the weapon,“keep this thing downstairs. we don’t want some… collateral damages, do we?” and just like that, he leaves the room, not even bothering to see if you’d be capable of doing something else.

how did you falter like this? shit, shit, what you’re supposed to do now? now that you were so closer…

completely shocked, you take a seat on the bed. pleasant to lay your ass in, you think. as you grasp the velvety sheets, your palm notices a a cold surface.

he left the other gun neatly placed in the bed. a colt junior, smoothly laying there. not a big one, it is barely 5 inches long but perfect for self defense. is he stupid? why did he leave it there? your heart races, what it seemed to be like a lost opportunity, suddenly turns out again into a new hope.

so, you grab the gun and put it in your purse, thinking it is the perfect chance to shoot him dead.

sadly, destiny decided that it wasn't bound to be that way.

tiptoeing, trying to not make any noise, you manage to reach the door frame, your hand holds the weapon steady. even in this instant, you steered to be trapped again in your own net.

an enormous hand covers your mouth and the gasp gets encapsulated inside your throat.

was adrenaline, euphoria, rush, but you straightaway pulled out the gun out of your bag and pulled the trigger.

but nothing happened.

“bet you thought i left that thing there by mere coincidence, didn’t you?” he chuckled as he took you back to his room. you try to fight, make some loud noises behind that palm.

you are becoming quite annoying, and the next thing you know is that he put the barrel in your face and now that death seems closer than ever, you sob and warm tears run down your face.

the stupid bag.

“shit, how could i…” he mutters, managing to take your bag and continue pointing the revolver at you.

he empties it and only old papers and coins are inside — nothing that might seem like a threat . he just worried for nothing.

for you, now everything is lost. you’re going to end up dead and possible that not even the leader could notice that.

but he just doesn’t stop there.

“you must be hiding something.” he tightens the pressure of the barrel on your face and throws away the bag.

his other hand wanders down your waistline, palpating every part. unconsciously, you squeeze your thighs and a shiver runs down your spine, more when his hand is touching up each part of you until he reaches one of your breasts. he clasps it between his fingers.

you’re not wearing a single thing. despite an overwhelming urge to do something else, he keeps his examination, fingers going down, probing, checking every inch of skin to find any sort of irregularity — some other surface different from human soft skin.

however, he is doing something wrong and doesn’t trust the fabric of your clothes. sometimes other sorts of artefacts can be hidden from god knows where and can go unnoticed, and these matters, those little slips can affect and build tension with other countries, hence, need to be taken seriously.

with that in mind, his hand explored the flesh of your thighs, going under your clothes. you remain paralyzed. you’re not sure whether it’s because you are either in a panic or you know that trying to make something, even shouting, will cost you a bullet in the head. both are valid reasons to avoid causing more problems and gulping, you just let them explore all of your body.

the hem of your panties is the only thing that he can detect and decides to go even further. he examines, the palms of his hand are tender, soft — of course, he has never gotten to experience any kind of struggle or what hard work meant. despite acknowledging this, you shudder at the touch of his grip, almost wanting him to do something else.

and surely he does.

having notice that you are numb, blunted, he puts the weapon in one of the pockets of his robe and now the other hand joins to this inspection. a heat boils between your legs when his arms pull up your dress now exposing all of your body. hardened nipples and goosebumps are the new texture his palms grasp.

“ngh…” you sob

“calm down, sweetheart. I just need to know if you’re not hiding something else.” his digits go down, painfully slow, and with his tips, pulls down your panties. cheeks are flushed and you can’t help but feel the need of him wanting more of you.

“check all you want.” you’re voice whispered vaguely. now your will is completely broken. you can’t believe you’re betraying all you thought was for a greater good just to see how far he can go.

he throws you into bed. panties are stretched between your legs and he grabs you by the hips, just to have a clear view of your pussy. you bite your lip. scanning him, you can pay close attention to his imposing figure, thinking if this was worth it.

he grabs your wrists, making sure you’re not trying something, even though you have a main idea of what that might result. with that in mind, you bury your face in the soft mattress, not sure if he saw you biting your lip.

he rises up your trembling legs and grabs the cheek of your ass to open up and have a clear view of your cunt. you gulp, your pussy clenches and your clit pulsates. you let out a whimper, and just hearing that sound of yours, makes his cock twitch.

it is erotic see how it was only necessary to untie the knot of the robe to see that all this time he was naked, and now, pondering if all the time his cock was erected while he wandered every part of your body, makes the situation even more sultry.

“just see how slutty you are, huh? taking my cock that you’re not able to shoot that damn gun?” damn. when he slides in, you notice how wet you were and open your eyes big, not expecting to be that fast.

and you need to have in mind he just buried half of his shaft inside you. and he just leaves it there, because he takes his time to look at your body all placed in his bed, with your fingers latching onto the sheets.

“it hurts…” you whimper.

“you can can handle it, whore.” a shiver runs down your spine. you could’ve imagined at one point you would end up insulting at each other, but not like this, with your legs sprawled out and having a part of his cock fluttering and trapped tight within your walls.

“please… how can this not hurt anymore?” you beg, your drenched juices make him easier to slide even deeper, but now, hearing you whimper makes him wonder how sensitive you really are, that you are already falling apart with just a part of his length.

“well,��� he moves slightly, and your eyes open wide again.

“fu-u-ck…” you pant and gulp.

“tsch, language.” the more words he says, the more he dives, open wide, tearing you. fucking feels good but pleasure has his price and though it brings a delightful pain, you can’t stand it, he needs to move or something… or else, you’ll fall apart.

“mmm, god it hurts, please,” you mewl, and best thing that comes to your mind, is to stroll your hips, to see if it can hit your sweet spot. “i want you to fuck me so badly, please… please…”

he lets out a malicious huff, and, without warning, he clasps errands of your hair and tightens his grip. it goes deeper and you whine. his hips start to collide with your ass. soft movements, the ones that are anticipating that he’s going to fasten his pace.

you breath heavily, your sloppy cunt opens up with every single thrust. “fuck, you’re taking it soo well.” he groans through his teeth,“bet you never thought we’re going to end up like this? you want me so bad, don’t you?” with every dirty assumption, you can’t help but moan.

he violently presses your head against the mattress and his cock delves in places you never thought it felt so good. the sticky sounds he makes each time he stretches your pussy is the only symphony that could be heard in the room.

“it feels good, isn’t it?” he teases between chattered teeth. his hips make obscene clap sounds.

“yes, yes…” your voice reverberates.

he pulls you up with the grip of your hair and with his hand, he grabs your neck and keeps now your neck is his grip to shoving his cock, almost disappearimg inside your clammy and loosen walls. his tip it’s circling around your depths jabbing with no mercy. he bites your cheek and every friction makes you loose your mind. “mhhh, i can’t take it anymore.” your back arches because you have already cum and your body twitches against his body.

“shhh, we’re not done yet.” it is painfully delicious how he feels your insides twitching around him and he fastens his movements.

“it feels so good…” the other orgasm made your sweet spot to become more sensitive and your pretty eyes flutter with every jab. your legs are shaking, you would like to close them right now, but most probably is that he won’t let you do it.

“shit…” he throws you back at the bed again, and still thrusting you faster, his body falls trembles but he manages to keep a normal pace. thick and warm ropes of his cum make your pussy palpitate and shake, cummining for the second time.

all of that experience makes you think seriously to phone your mom and tell her college was a good idea after all.

[goshikisbaee]

Spending Valentine’s Day With Haikyuu Characters (part 1)

content: Fluff

[ Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Kuroo, Bokuto, Akaashi ]

———-

TŌRU OIKAWA

Valentine’s Day with Oikawa is nothing short of extra. From the moment you wake up, there’s a bouquet of your favorite flowers waiting for you with a note in his neat handwriting: “For the most beautiful person in my life.” He insists on making the day perfect— though his definition of “perfect” may include a little too much of his dramatic flair.

He shows up to pick you up in his favorite casual but classy outfit, grinning like he’s just won a championship match. “You didn’t think I’d forget, did you, my love?” he teases, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

He takes you to a cute café where he spends half the time holding your hand across the table and the other half bragging about how he managed to snag the “best date” in the world. The barista can’t help but roll their eyes at his antics, but you can’t stop laughing.

In true Oikawa fashion, the evening involves stargazing—because of course he has to incorporate something romantic and dreamy. Lying beside you, he points out random constellations, only half accurate because he’s too busy sneaking glances at you.

“I dont need the stars when I’ve got you,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from your face. Cheesy? Absolutely. But with him, it’s always endearing.

The night ends with him pulling you close, a soft, genuine smile replacing his usual cocky grin. “Thank you for being my Valentine,” he whispers, his voice quieter than usual. “I promise, you’ll always be my number one.”

HAJIME IWAIZUMI

Valentine’s day with Iwaizumi is simple but meaningful. He’s not one for grand romantic gestures, but he makes sure you feel loved in the ways that matter. When you wake up, there’s a nearly wrapped box on your nightstand—inside is a practical yet thoughtful gift, like a hoodie that smells like him or your favorite snacks. “Didn’t wanna get you something useless,” the note reads.

When he picks you up, he’s dressed casually, but you cant tell he put in a little extra effort—his hair is styled just right, and he’s actually wearing that nice cologne you love. He greets you with a gruff, “you look nice,” before quickly looking away, ears slightly red.

Dinner is at his favorite spot—nothing fancy, just good food and a comfortable atmosphere. He doesnt gush over you like someone like Oikawa would, but his small actions say everything: making sure you get the last bite, keeping his hand on your knee absentmindedly, sending a death glare at anything who looks at you for too long.

After dinner, he surprises you with a late night drive, ending at a quiet scenic spot. Sitting beside you, he lets out a deep sigh, looking up at the sky. “I know I dont say it a lot, but… I’m really lucky to have you.” His fingers find yours, squeezing them gently.

Before you part ways, he pulls you into a warm, lingering hug, resting his chin on your head. “Happy Valentine’s Day idiot,” he mutters, voice softer than usual. You smile, knowing that even without the over the top romance, every moment with him is real.

TETSURŌ KUROO

Valentine’s Day with Kuroo is fun—because, of course, he turns everything into an opportunity to tease you. You wake up to a text that reads; “Happy Valentine’s Day to my favorite nerd. Yes, you’re my favorite. No you can’t tell anyone.” A few minutes later, another message: “wear something cute. Not that you need help looking good, but, you know… for my sake.”

When he picks you up, he greets you with his signature smirk and a ridiculous gift—maybe a cat plushie because “it reminded me of myself. Handsome, charming, and definitely your favorite.” But before you can roll your eyes, he hands you something real—your favorite snack or a small thoughtful present that proves he actually pays attention.

Dinner is at a casual yet surprisingly nice restaurant, where he spends half the time making flirty comments and the other half pretending to listen while secretly just admiring you. “You know, I’d let you ramble about anything if it means I get to keep looking at you.”

After dinner, he takes you somewhere unexpected—maybe a late night arcade or a rooftop with a city view. Sitting next to you, he finally drops the teasing for a second, nudging your shoulder before saying, “you know, I joke around a lot, but I mean it when I say you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Before the night ends, he pulls you into by the waist, looking down at you with that lazy grin. “Happy Valentine’s Day, babe. Hope you’re ready for many more.” And with that, he finally gives you the kiss he’s been holding off all night.

KŌTARŌ BOKUTO

Valentine’s Day with Bokuto is non stop excitement from the moment it begins. You wake up to a spam of texts:

“HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!!!”

“WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP”

“DO YOU KNOW WHAT DAY IT IS???”

“IT’S THE DAY I GET TO SPOIL YOU, DUH.”

When he finally picks you up, he’s practically bouncing with energy, holding a massive bouquet—probably way bigger than necessary. “I didn’t know which flowers to get, so I got all of them!” He grins, handing them over like he just won an award.

Your date is a mix of everything fun—he takes you to an arcade, a cute café, and maybe even a spontaneous adventure like ice skating (which he’s surprisingly good at). Every few minutes, he reminds you, “BEST. DAY. EVER.” And insists on taking a million selfies.

At dinner, he’s a mix of loud excitement and soft admiration, stuffing his face one second and staring at you like you hung the moon the next. “I’m so lucky,” he sighs dramatically between bites, before pointing his fork at you. “Hey. You know that, right? That I love you?”

The night ends with him wrapping you in the biggest hug ever, lifting you off the ground effortlessly. “Best Valentine’s Day ever,” he declares, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. Then, with a cheeky grin, he adds, “same time next year? Actually, scratch that. Every day should be like this.”

KEIJI AKAASHI

Valentine’s Day with Akaashi is quietly romantic, filled with soft gestures that show just how much he cares. You wake up to a neatly written note left at your bedside—“happy Valentine’s Day. I hope today is as wonderful as you are.” A little later, he texts: “Are you free? I have something planned.”

When he picks you up, he hands you a small but meaningful gift—maybe a book you mentioned wanting, or a handwritten letter sealed in an envelope. “I wasn’t sure what to get you,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, “so I just got something that reminded me of you.”

Your date is simple but perfect—maybe a quiet bookstore café, a scenic walk, or a cozy home-cooked dinner. He pays attention to everything you say, responding with soft hums and amused smiles. “I love listening to you talk,” he admits, twirling a piece of his food with his fork.

At the end of the night, he lingers at your doorstep, eyes gentle but hesitant. “I, um…” He exhales, gathering his thoughts before finally meeting your gaze. “I just want you to know that I’m really, really happy with you.”

Before you can respond, he leans in and presses a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he murmurs, lips curling into the faintest smile. “I hope I get to spend all of them with you.”

———

[avaredava]

⯌ Sweet spot ⯌

୨୧・・・・୨୧

MDNI

Master list

⯌ Sum

Toge Inumaki uses his cursed speech during doing the nasty (✿^‿^)

⯌ Wc

1.5k

⯌Warnings

NSFW, explicit sexual content, strong language, dominance/submission, praise & degradation kink, possessiveness, mild voyeurism, power imbalance, explicit commands, rough sex, edging/teasing, orgasm control.

୨୧・・・・୨୧

You and Toge have been dating since you were first years and now both of you are 3rd years. Many get confused why the hell both of you were dating. The social butterfly and the boy that can barely talk. It really didn''t make any fucking sense.

But somehow, it worked.

You, the loud and energetic one, always buzzing with excitement, and Toge, the quiet yet deadly sorcerer who spoke in cryptic onigiri ingredients. People looked at the two of you like you were a mismatched puzzle—one piece bright and chaotic, the other cool and subdued.

"It doesn’t make any fucking sense," was a phrase you heard more times than you could count.

But to you? It made perfect sense.

Because Toge didn’t need to say much.

His actions spoke louder than words ever could.

The way he always made sure you ate first before touching his own food, even if you weren’t hungry. The way his hand would instinctively reach for yours when you walked side by side, fingers tracing idle patterns against your palm. The way he’d pull you into his arms after missions, inhaling your scent like it was the only thing grounding him to reality.

And when he did use his voice?

"Careful." His way of telling you to watch your back.

"Rest." When he knew you were pushing yourself too hard.

"Mine." Low and husky against your ear, when he felt possessive, when he needed you to know exactly who you belonged to.

It worked because when the world was too loud, Toge found comfort in your presence. And when you needed peace, he was your silent sanctuary.

So, let them be confused. Let them wonder why the hell you were together.

Because neither of you ever had to question it.

_

No one ever understood how you and Toge worked.

You, the vibrant, expressive one—always filling the room with light and laughter. Him, the quiet, reserved sorcerer whose very presence demanded attention even without saying a word. People never understood how you could be together.

But if they saw you now—if they saw the way he controlled the room with just his eyes, the way you responded with nothing more than his whispers, the way you broke for him in the most intimate, all-consuming way—

They’d get it.

Because Toge didn’t need to speak much.

Just one word from him, and you’d be undone.

"Kneel."

You didn’t hesitate, didn’t question him. You moved swiftly, crawling onto the bed, feeling the sheets shift beneath you as you positioned yourself—just like he wanted. The anticipation was suffocating, thick, and palpable, the air thick with tension as you waited for him, hands resting on your thighs, back straight, eyes lowered.

Toge stood in front of you, watching you, not moving, just taking you in. His presence was overwhelming, his silence both commanding and intimate. The way he observed you, like he was memorizing every inch, every subtle shift of your body, was enough to have your pulse racing.

Finally, he stepped forward, his hands trailing over your shoulders, down your arms, tracing the delicate curves of your body with deliberate slowness. His fingertips brushed the side of your neck, sending a shiver through you as he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

"You look so beautiful."

The praise hit you harder than you expected. It sent a wave of heat straight to your core, leaving you breathless as he guided you back to the center of the bed, gently pushing you to lie down. He followed, his body moving with a predator’s grace, settling between your legs with a predatory calm.

"Open for me."

You didn’t hesitate, legs parting as your breath caught in your throat. The moment you were exposed, vulnerable, he hovered—not touching, not yet—just watching you, his hands resting by your sides, keeping you in place. Your body trembled beneath him, the anticipation of what was to come almost too much to bear.

Then, slowly, he moved.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your throat, slow and lingering, like he was savoring the moment. His lips traveled down your chest, brushing over your collarbone, each touch agonizingly slow, intentional, teasing. His tongue traced your skin, exploring every inch with the precision of someone who knew exactly how to drive you to the edge.

You gasped as his lips hovered over your breasts, teasing, just barely skimming against the fabric of your bra. He didn’t touch you fully yet—just the softest brushes, leaving you begging for more. Your hands gripped the sheets, nails digging into the fabric as your body arched, pushing toward him.

"Patience."

His voice was low, gravelly—firm. The command sent another pulse of heat through you, the need to feel his touch so intense it made your head spin. But he held you there, suspended, testing your restraint, your obedience.

His lips moved lower, kissing your stomach, his breath warm and slow against your skin. Every inch of you felt heightened under his touch, every brush of his lips making your whole body tremble with anticipation. When he finally reached the waistband of your pants, you whined, desperate for him, your hips involuntarily shifting.

"Hold still."

You froze, biting your lip to keep from moaning. His hands, now shaking with the same restraint, slowly undid the button of your jeans, the sound of it snapping open filling the room with an unbearable tension.

But he didn’t rush.

His hands worked carefully, deliberately, pulling your pants off with excruciating slowness. He placed each piece of clothing aside like it was the most precious thing, each motion calculated to prolong the inevitable.

When you were fully exposed before him, he didn’t touch you immediately.

He just watched.

His gaze was heavy, intense, almost possessive, as though he were memorizing the way your body reacted to his every move. His eyes trailed over your body, pausing at every little tremor, every breathless sound that left your lips.

"You’re perfect."

The words fell from his lips like a promise, soft, yet heavy with meaning.

Then, finally—finally—his hands reached for you, tracing the line of your inner thighs, teasing, never quite giving you what you wanted. His fingers brushed against the softest part of you, and you gasped, flinching at the light touch, the delicate build-up.

His fingers grazed over your folds, slow, deliberate, intense, as though he were savoring every second. The pleasure was deliciously slow, each touch pulling you deeper into a pool of heat, a delirious need that you couldn’t escape.

"So wet for me. Slut."

The praise went straight to your head, clouding your thoughts, making your breath ragged as his fingers slipped deeper, pressing, curling in a way that had you gasping, your hips moving of their own accord. His thumb found your clit, circling, teasing, pulling moans from your lips as his rhythm matched the desperate need inside you.

"Beg for me."

The command was soft, but there was an undeniable power behind it—demanding. Your whole body shivered in response, and before you could stop yourself, the words spilled from your lips.

“Please, Toge, I need you.”

His eyes met yours, dark and satisfied, as he slowed, his fingers pulling away, leaving you panting, desperate.

"Tell me how bad you want it."

Your chest heaved with each breath, your hands gripping the sheets as you tried to catch your breath. You nodded, barely able to speak through the rush of heat coursing through your veins.

“I need you so bad. Please, Toge, I can’t… I can’t wait any longer.”

His lips curled into a slow, satisfied smirk.

"Good girl."

And with that, he finally pushed into you.

The stretch was exquisite, every inch of him filling you, pressing you to the brink of pleasure and pain. You cried out, your nails digging into his back, but he didn’t stop. He kept you still, immobile beneath him as he drove into you slowly at first, each thrust deliberate, controlled, pulling you apart with each movement.

"You feel so good."

His voice was a low growl as his rhythm increased, his hips moving harder, deeper, as your body melted under him, surrendering completely. The heat built, coiling tighter and tighter with each stroke, the pressure growing unbearable. You could barely breathe, could barely think with the way he moved inside you, pulling every gasp, every sound, from your throat.

And when you were finally teetering on the edge, when you were lost, unable to hold on any longer, he drove into you harder, faster—relentless—as he spoke, his voice firm, leaving no room for doubt.

"Come for me."

The moment the words left his lips, your body exploded, pleasure shattering through you, leaving you gasping, whimpering, your body writhing beneath him. He followed right behind you, his own release wracking through him as he buried his face in your neck, his voice low, like a secret only the two of you shared.

For a long time, neither of you moved. The air was thick with the aftermath, your breathing heavy, your limbs tangled as he gently held you against him, his fingers tracing soft circles over your skin.

"I love you."

The words came without hesitation, without any power behind them. Just a truth, a simple, undeniable truth that hung between you.

And in that moment, you knew. Nothing else mattered.

୨୧・・・・୨୧

This sucks 😭

[oharaslove]

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑜𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝓅𝓉.𝟤

Summary: The story of Miguel's first and only love, you. A passage through the most significant moments of your relationship.

Tags/Warnings: pre!Spiderman Miguel x Civilian!Reader + Spider!Miguel x Civilian!Reader, fem!reader, fluff, smut (Minors don't interact, please)

Word count: 8k

Note: This is part 2 of a request!! I think you can read this as a one shot, but it would be better if you read the previous part (linked below). I also recommend listening to "Sugar"-Sleep Token, It is so good (mainly in the 'you know' scene).

<<Part1 || masterlist ||

𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓯𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷

After realising how he felt about you, Miguel tried to take a little distance. He was scared. Terrified even. He had never felt this. Never felt the need to, the urge, to make someone his.

 And that was what scared him. He was a total loser, how could someone like you want something with him?. You were perfect in his eyes, and he was far from it. You were probably experienced too, which he wasn’t. Miguel’s insecurities were at all time high. 

Besides, he couldn’t get the comments you had made the first time you met out of his head. You hated or at least disliked Valentine's day. So did he, not long ago. Damn, how things changed. 

Six months ago he dreaded the question: ‘There is someone special in your life?’, but now… 

You appeared in every thought. Your face materialised in the most random moments. If someone were to ask him that question today, his immediate answer would be yes, grinning from ear to ear. He would jump at any opportunity to talk about you.

Not every thought was happy, though. Miguel imagined countless scenarios where he came forward, pouring his heart out to you, and you didn’t feel the same way. Negative assumptions clouded his head day and night, leaving an empty feeling in his chest. He didn’t want to think about them, but there was always a voice on the back of his head tearing him down to pieces. Telling him he didn’t deserve you. He wasn’t enough. He would never be. 

His feelings were growing bigger and bigger, despite his attempts to keep them down. His chest would explode at any minute if he didn’t let them go. The words at the edge of his tongue, begging to come out. Every time he was close to you, so close he could smell your scent, which drove him crazy, he felt like throwing up. The air would be pushed out of his lungs every time you smiled at him. You stared at him with those beautiful eyes, fueling the idea that maybe, just maybe, you felt the same. 

That there was a possibility. 

It didn’t help that, due to the advances on both of your researches, you had to stay more time in the lab. Meaning, it was just the two of you, for hours on end. Many would say it was the perfect opportunity, but what if you said no? What if you secretly hated him? What if–

“Miguel?” you asked gently, moving closer to where he was standing. He had been staring off at the wall for at least five minutes, unmoving. He was barely blinking, and his hands were sweaty. “Are you okay?” you continued, moving even closer. 

Miguel instinctively took a step back, creating distance between the two of you. You were intoxicating. He shut his eyes hard, trying to clear his thoughts. While doing so, he missed the hurt look over your face. 

“Yeah, I… I am fine, don’t worry” he whispered. He clutched the edge of the table. Come on Miguel, take a grip on yourself. 

“Are you…, are you sure? You don’t look okay” You fidgeted with the hem of your sweater.

“Yes” he huffed. His breathing became more erratic. Miguel dropped his head, eyes remaining shut, hoping to block you off. 

But he couldn’t. 

He couldn’t tell you how much you affected him, even though he wished to. All he wanted was to hug you, make you feel how you made him feel. But no. He couldn’t. Shouldn’t. 

“Did I…” you began, your voice trembling. “Did I do something wrong?”. You sniffed, making Miguel open his eyes immediately and look at you. 

You were looking down. Tears streaming down your cheeks, despite your efforts to keep them at bay. Your hands, barely visible, pull at the end of your sweater, making yourself smaller. Trying to hide. 

Shit. “No no no” Miguel whispered, hurriedly walking towards you. He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to hug you, but would that be alright? Or, should he just go for a supportive hand to the shoulder? So, that’s what he did. “You.. you did nothing wrong. Hey, please. Look at me” he mumbled, barely audible. Thankfully, he was closer than he realised. His mouth only inches away from the crown of your head. He was basically towering over you. 

You looked up. Teary eyes locking into his. Trembling lips mumbling incoherent things, a lot of ‘sorrys’ and ‘please’. Miguel’s heart broke. He had done this. Him. No one else. He was so focused on his own feelings, on not getting hurt, that he didn’t realise how his actions were affecting you.

“Shhh, it’s okay.” Miguel cooed, drawing figures with his thumb on your shoulder. Hand, that he noted, you hadn’t pushed away nor seemed uncomfortable about.  

You leaned into his touch. Your cheek grazing his hand, never breaking eye contact. Miguel’s eyes traveled from focusing on one eye to the other, to your nose, your mouth, everything. He wanted to memorize your face in case this was the end. While doing so, ever so lightly, his hand drifted upwards, caressing your cheek, without realising. 

You closed your eyes and hummed, enjoying the feeling. His hands were sweaty, but he was warm, and he smelled nice. Your breath slowed down, calming yourself. You nuzzled your cheek further. She’s adorable, Miguel thought, lost in how ethereal you were. His body moving on its own.  

Miguel's eyes went wide. A moment of clarity letting him be aware of his actions. He wanted to retreat his hand, stop touching you, but at the feeling of the slight pull movement from his hand, yours instinctively wrapped around his wrist gently, keeping him there. 

You opened your eyes slowly. Small droplets of water hanging from your lashes. Your eyes searched his, a message clear on them. Stay. “Please” you begged. Your words vibrated against his skin. Your cheek squeezed against his hand. Your eyes big, like a puppy begging for treats. 

Miguel left out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. His shoulders instantly relaxed. The worried lines on his face dissipated, and a small smile pulled at the edge of his lips. He didn’t want to leave, he would stay how and where you wanted for eternity. All you had to do was ask. 

He had a feeling this was the night, and the conversation wasn’t going to be short. So, better get comfortable. 

 “Come, sit” he said, retreating his hand slowly, trying not to startle you, before slightly bending down to grab the nearest stool behind you. He gently placed his hands against your shoulders guiding you down. 

You sat down, putting your feet on the bar and tugging them closer to your chest. Placing your chin on top of your knees. Miguel sat down in front of you, leaving a decent space between the two. 

Your eyes were still glassy from crying. Miguel felt like someone had just punched him in the gut. That someone being himself. He clenched his fists over his legs, grabbing the material of his trousers. How could he be so stupid?. 

¿Qué mierda me está pasando? Miguel muttered looking down. He was losing his head. (What the hell is happening to me)

“Are you sure you are okay?”

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, even though it was barely audible. Did he just say that aloud? His eyes shot to yours. You were curious, he could tell, and also scared. Of him, for him? He couldn’t tell, which made him anxious.

“I am sorry if I ever crossed the line” you continued, seeing that he wasn’t responding. “I-” You dropped your arms and placed your feet on the floor, getting more comfortable in the stool, breaking eye contact while doing so. 

“It was never my intention to make you uncomfortable.” You rubbed your face, cleaning the tears and pushing back the hair stuck on your cheeks. You looked down, placing your hands together over your legs. “I just thought that,” you shrugged your shoulders. “you liked me”. You looked up slowly, biting your lip. Your face  was a little turned away, looking at him softly, eager, but also scared by the response. 

Miguel’s eyes opened like plates. Like you? Like, like like you? He was stunned. Miguel couldn’t believe his ears. You liked him! This was the greatest moment of his–

“Or maybe it was all in my head, I don’t know” you continued, turning around on the stool, giving your back to him while you hugged yourself. Asshole. How long were you silent for?

“NO!” he shouted. His first instinct was to stand up and get closer to you. “No,” he said more calmly, collecting himself. 

You turned around slowly. Fresh new tears adorning your face. Slowly, but surely, Miguel reached for your cheek. His fingers made contact with your skin, immediately feeling your warmth. As soon as he felt you lean into it, he applied pressure caressing you, wiping the tears away. 

“I’m sorry.” He began. “I… I am a loser” Miguel scanned your face. He couldn’t back out now. 

“You don’t–” you wiped the side of your face with the back of your sleeve, still leaning onto his hand. ”Don’t seem like one to me” You placed your hand on top of his, melting into his touch.

“Maybe, but I am” He sighed, looking at your face. You were so beautiful. He needed to sit down. He could feel his whole body trembling. Miguel was nervous. Even more nervous than when he interviewed for Alchemax. He looked back, spotting the forgotten stool. He wasn’t leaving your touch again, so he reached with his foot and pulled it towards him. 

He sat down, much closer now, your legs brushing against each other. The proximity was exhilarating. He could smell your perfume. Feel your warmth under the palm of his hand. He could see the way your chest went up and down from your breathing. How your lashes gently touched the top of your cheeks every time you blinked. 

Miguel was charmed by you. If you told him you were a witch who had cast a spell on him, he would believe it. No doubt in his mind. 

Focus Miguel, he thought. This was a golden opportunity, and he couldn’t let it slip away. His eyes landed on his hand, gently stroking the skin of your cheek. You were so soft and warm. Miguel could feel your eyes staring at him, but he couldn’t look at them. Not now. He needed time to be bolder, to build the guts to pour his heart out to you. 

“Miguel” you whispered. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. I understand.”

Miguel moved his hand, breaking away from your grasp. He moved down the curvature of your face. The back of his fingers leaving goosebumps in their way. He grabbed your chin gently, his thumb centimeters away from your lips. Hovering. Oh, how he wished he had the experience. The bravery. The audacity to just dive in and capture your lips with his. Say everything with his mouth that words couldn’t express. Tangle his tongue with yours instead of it tangling with the thoughts running through his head.

“I am a loser” he repeated, more serious this time. His focus remained on your lips. “I don’t know how to do this.” he confessed, his thumb finally making contact with the pout that had formed in your face. They were soft. They looked so kissable. He traced the shape of your mouth lightly, before using his fingers under your chin to angle your face towards his. 

His eyes finally gazed into yours. Your cheeks were redder now, skin warmer. “I’ve never done this” He whispered, inching closer. “All I know–” he gulped, looking down again, to your lips. “is that you drive me crazy. I like you, I really do”. Your noses were now brushing together. His breath fanning over your cheeks, gently moving your lashes.

His lips hovering over yours, too scared to make the final move. 

“Miguel” you pleaded, looking at him from your hooded eyes. Your mouth slightly agape. He looked up to your eyes again. There was a pause. Neither of you dared move. 

The tension was palpable in the air. Both your breaths united. Words weren’t needed in this moment, only actions. His eyes sent you a silent plea. A question. Permission to do what he wanted the most. You nodded softly, and that is all it took for him to take the leap. 

Miguel’s lips crush into yours softly. You closed your eyes, melting into his touch, and so did he. Your lips were softer than he had felt with his hands. He had done it! He was kissing you. But now, in the act, he didn’t know how far he could go. Miguel’s hand on your cheek froze, he was cupping your face lightly, but his grip faltered. 

You pulled back softly, creating distance. Miguel chased you with his lips, not wanting to let go yet. You giggled, as you moved back, staring at his cute face. It was all red and warm. His lips slightly parted, letting out puffs of air out. 

Miguel opened his eyes slowly, blinking, as in a trance. Miguel was met with your smile, that pretty smile he learnt to cherish and to look forward to. 

“It’s okay” you whispered, taking both of his hands and placing them in your waist. You shifted closer, the stool screeched against the floor. Your legs parted a little, leaving enough space for one of his own to settle there. 

You placed the palms of your hand over his chest. Your eyes trailed from his chest, to his neck, until your gazes met again. “I trust you.” you smiled. You dove back again, this time showing more confidence. 

As soon as your lips brushed against his, Miguel’s heart skipped a beat. Your hands travelled from his chest to his neck, while his were still locked around your waist. Every thought that miraculously was still in Miguel’s head, flew out of the window. All he could register was you.

 All of you. 

The way your lips brushed and pushed against his. How they slightly parted, little amounts of air leaving them, making contact against his skin. The way your hands were now playing with the curls on the back of his neck, twirling them around your fingers. Miguel groaned. The taste of you becoming unbearable. He needed more. 

Hopefully, you understood. Miguel felt your tongue against his lips, before granting you access. As the kiss deepened, the tension on his body dissipated. He could feel your hands playing with his hair, loosening his muscles. 

As every second passed, Miguel grew more confident. 

First, he squeezed your waist, testing. He didn’t want to overstep, but at the same time, he needed more. He wanted to feel your skin on his. Pull noises out of you, created by his touch. 

His hands moved up, stopping below your breasts. His thumbs slightly grazed under them. You inhaled sharply, surprised, but glad he was loosening. You too wanted him to explore more, to take you. To make you his. 

While one of his hands stayed there, squeezing and drawing figures over your sweater, the other detached from your body, before making contact with your arm. He squeezed your forearm, before tracing your arm and reaching your neck. 

Miguel grabbed your neck, taking control of the kiss. He angled you just the way he wanted, giving him more access to explore your mouth. You groaned, the vibrations traveling through Miguel’s fingers.  He pressed his thumb against your throat, the kiss becoming more passionate. 

You pulled at his hair, his sweater, everything your hands could grasp to keep him close, to pull him even closer. Miguel was feeling lightheaded, his breathing becoming more ragged, but he didn’t want to stop. He had had a taste of you, and he didn’t know if he was ready to stop. 

Every sound he coaxed out of you made him more confident. He was obsessed, as if he wasn’t already. Every caress, each touch without an exception your hands made on his body drove him nuts. His lungs were beginning to scream at him for air, so were yours, but neither made an attempt to pull back. You were in a fever dream, and you didn’t want it to stop. 

Miguel’s body was on fire. The kiss became sloppy, teeth clicking against one another. The lab wasn’t silent anymore, your breaths were heavy, both of you panting, an occasional moan erupted from you, making Miguel groan as a response every time. 

He knew if he continued, he would do things he would regret. Not entirely because of the action, but because of the timing. You were his first, he didn’t want to fuck up. He needed to go slow. 

Miguel reluctantly pulled back from the kiss. He rested his forehead on yours, his hand still around your neck, his thumb caressing your warm, and slightly sweaty skin. Both of your chests going up and down, catching your breaths. He could feel the warm air exiting your mouth hit his face, making him smile. It wasn’t a dream, you were right there, in front of him, touching him, melting under his touch. 

Miguel opened his eyes slowly, squinting, not comfortable with the now really bright light of the lab. You had been kissing for what felt like hours, his eyes had been shut all the time, basking in the feeling. 

He found you staring back at him through your lashes. A grin formed on your face once you two made eye contact. Miguel’s expression mirrored yours, he was ecstatic. His hands moved up your neck, towards your cheek, drawing figures there as well. 

“So..” you began, leaning into his touch. Your voice was a little hoarse. Gosh, you sounded so sexy. You bit your lip, looking down a little, towards Miguel’s lips. “Does this mean you like me too?” 

Miguel laughed, his whole body shaking. You giggled as well, breaking the tension on your body and in the room. Miguel cupped both sides of your face, before bringing you in for a quick peck, and a kiss to your forehead and nose. 

He pulled back, admiring you. Your smiley face squished against his hands. “Yes” he breathed out, his shoulders relaxing visible, just melting into you, feeling drawn to you. Nothing else mattered. 

The lab fell silent, you both just staring at each other. It was comforting, the feelings being out in the air. Reciprocated feelings. You liked him, and he liked you. Nothing could go wrong from now on. 

That moment of clarity made an idea pop on Miguel’s head. “So… are you free tomorrow?”

𝓗𝓲𝓼 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰

Your first date was ethereal. Miguel had decided he didn’t want to go to a restaurant, or be near people in general, knowing that both you and him preferred to be private. Instead, he arranged a nice picnic with a beautiful view. 

You had the time of your lives. Miguel had never felt so care free and light. His heart was content and he felt on cloud nine every time you laughed, you smiled at him, or kissed him. Mostly when you giggled into your kisses, he thought you were adorable, and he didn’t know how he could say goodbye to you everyday. He needed to be with you 24/7, although he knew it was best for you both to have some alone time. Don’t move too fast now Miguel, Jesus.

Three months had passed since you two confessed your feelings in the lab. Three whole months of stealing kisses from each other, dates every week, seeing each other at the lab every day, being so close that Miguel couldn’t remember his life before you. How had he lived so long without you by his side?

Miguel couldn’t believe that at first he worked by himself in the lab. You two were like one, working around each other like it was second nature. Stolen touches here and there. You wrapping your hands around his waist from the back, leaving kisses, melting his heart and still, making him blush, despite all the months of dating. 

Unfortunately, today you had a meeting elsewhere. Meaning, Miguel was alone. He was feeling a little under the weather, he didn’t like being away from you. The routine you both had broken for a day. Thanks to his mind not being present one hundred percent, he had missed how one of his co-workers messed with his machine, causing the accident. 

Miguel had been experimenting with DNA fusions, something you knew about. This particular moment, he was curious if he could split his own (you clearly weren’t there to tell him it was a stupid idea). He had no clue what he had gotten himself into, nor what his coworker had done. All he knew is that, after surviving the experiment, he felt different. Changed. 

Miguel had always been a tall, muscular guy. But, he felt stronger, more powerful. He squinted his eyes, the artificial light in the lab hurting his eyes. Weird. He was fine just some minutes ago. He went to shut the lights. When his fingers made contact with the switch, he broke it, an abnormal strength surging from his body. 

He felt wrong, he wanted to throw up. At that moment, all he could think about was you. Miguel rushed towards his things, throwing everything aside looking for his phone. Once he had it in his hands, the eyes staring back at him in the reflection of the black screen weren’t familiar. They weren’t his usual brown ones, they were red. He dropped the phone in shock, the screen shattering in pieces. 

Miguel was pissed, causing a set of talons to emerge from his fingertips, scaring him off. What am I? What should I do? What would you think? He crumpled to the ground, shaking. What was he supposed to do? You couldn’t see him like this, he couldn’t lose you. He picked up the remains of his phone, before quickly gathering all his belongings and rushing to his flat. He needed time to think, he needed to be away from people. He needed to be away from you. He couldn’t let you witness the monster he had become.

A few days went by, Miguel had had no contact with you. He didn’t go to work, he didn’t answer his phone. Nothing. Clearly, you grew worried. He had never pulled a stunt like this before. Reason why, you were now standing outside his flat door. 

“Miguel?” you called, after knocking the door a few times. No answer. “Miguel please, I know you are in there” you pleaded, worry evident in your voice. 

Miguel was pacing left to right in his living room, in front of the door. He didn’t want you to see him, but he could tell you were worried. He hated making you something else that wasn’t happy. The dilemma was making his head hurt, the light coming through the windows wasn’t helping. During the days he had been hiding, he noticed his senses had been amplified. His eyes were ten times more sensitive to the lights.

You continued banging on the door. Tears were now running down your face.

“Miguel please,” you hiccuped, each breath was harder to take in. “Please, I don’t know what I did wrong. But please, let me in. We can talk about–”

At that moment, Miguel opened the door. He couldn’t stand hearing you cry any longer. You sobbed, launching yourself to him. Your arms landing around his waist, your face burying in his broad chest. 

Miguel’s arms stayed in the air, not wanting to touch you. What if his talons came out and he hurt you? He wouldn’t bear it. Seeing your wet and flushed face from the crying was torture enough. 

You cried a little more into his chest, creating a small patch of water in his shirt. You pulled yourself together, detaching yourself from him, allowing Miguel to close the door.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from sobbing. 

You had tear stains all over your cheeks. Miguel made an attempt to caress your face, wiping them away, but he froze in the middle. He pulled his hand back. He inhaled loudly,  shutting his eyes and making fists with his hands, before turning around and going to sit on the couch. 

You stood there, a frown in your face. What had you done for him to be so mad about you?. 

“Mig?” you mumbled, too scared to make sudden moves. 

Miguel groaned, rubbing his face between his face. You approached him slowly, barely making a sound. You watched him quietly, deciding what to do. As there was no reaction, you sat down, leaving some space between you two. You reached towards him, placing a hand over his arms. 

Miguel flinched away, making you retract your arm and look down to the floor. 

“I’m sorry” you began, trying to not break down. You sniffled, you could feel the tears already forming in your eyes. “I don’t know what I did, but I am sorry”. 

Miguel ran his hands through his hair, pulling a little. He didn’t want you to blame yourself. You had done nothing wrong! But he also didn’t know how to tell you what he was. 

“You,” he began, not looking at you. “You did nothing wrong”

“Then why?” You shifted your body, facing towards him. “Why have you been avoiding me? I thought we… I thought we were doing great.” The last words were barely audible. 

“We were… we are!” he corrected himself, now facing you, but not quite catching your eye. 

You played with your fingers in your lap, resisting the urge to reach for him. “Then… why?” You looked at him expectantly, searching for his gaze. 

Miguel hesitated. He played with the material of his sweatpants. He bit his lip, his knee going up and down. He needed to tell you. Either way, this relationship was over. If he didn’t tell you, you would break up with him because who would date someone who hides everyday in their flat? And if he told you… Well, you would probably freak out, call him a monster and walk away. Both outcomes pointed to heart break. 

“I– I can’t do this” he placed his head between his hands and started to cry.

Your heart broke. You didn’t understand what was wrong, but you hated to see Miguel so sad, angry and frustrated, all at the same time. 

“Shhh it’s okay” you scooched closer, hesitating to place a comforting hand on his back, but deciding to do so anyway. 

Miguel flinched at the contact at first, but later melted into you. He leaned into you, before collapsing in your lap. He curled himself into you, his big body retracting to feet on the couch and into you. 

You wanted to cry just from the sight. You rubbed his arms lovingly, trying to calm him down. Miguel was shaking, sob after sob cursing through his body. He mumbled incoherent stuff. Strings of ‘I’m sorrys’ and something along the lines of monster. You didn’t know, nor care. All you wanted was for him to calm down, you wanted your baby to be okay. 

After a few minutes, Miguel regained composure. He could breathe normally. Your warmth was soothing. The way you run your hands through his hair, caress his cheeks, tracing his sharp cheekbones. Lifting his shirt up a little so you could run your nails down his back.

For a moment, he forgot why he was so worried. You had done this countless times, you were his safe space. He could trust you. He needed to believe you wouldn’t leave him.

Miguel placed his feet on the floor, lifting himself off you. He wiped the tears with the back of his hands, before making eye contact with you, for the first time in days. He saw all the worry lines in your face, making his heart clench. Miguel could see your sad expression, a pout in your lips. Your gazes locked, and your eyes widened. 

“Miguel! Your eyes” You reached forward, placing your hands at each side of his head, examining further. 

“I know, that’s part of the problem”

“What happened?!”

Miguel explained to you in detail what happened the day you weren’t in the lab. And, after that, he gave you a demonstration of what he had learned. He stood up and showed you his talons, as well as his fangs. Both retractable. 

You sat there, shocked, while Miguel stood in place, watching you carefully, fully expecting you to shout “Freak!” and storm out. 

You gathered your thoughts, and stood up slowly. Miguel took a sharp breath in. He was terrified. 

“Miguel” you began, looking him straight in the eye. You still had that loving stare in your eyes, that is a good sign he thought. 

You walked closer, and when you were at arms reach of him, you slapped his arms, with all your force. 

“OUCH!”

“How dare you!?” you shouted. “Do you know how scared I was?. I thought you were dead. Dead!” You grabbed the roots of your hair and pulled, now pacing from left to right in front of Miguel, while he rubbed the spot where you had hit him. 

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I could have helped you figure this out!” You threw your hands in the air, mumbling some more things, a few curse words and some other things Miguel didn’t know if they were for his ears or for yours. 

“I thought… well, maybe you would call me a monster and leave” He mumbled the last part, feeling ashamed. 

That made you stop in your tracks, snapping your head towards him. 

“Leave?” you whispered in disbelief. “Leave?” You repeated slightly louder. “In what world would I live? Oh you are so fucking oblivious. I would rather die than leave you, you asshole. I love you, and I–”

“You love me?” Miguel cut you off. His eyes opened like plates, an alarm going off in his head. 

You froze in place too, realising what you had just said. 

“I–” you gulped. “I do. I love you”

Miguel smiled. A toothy grin from ear to ear. He rushed towards you, lifting you in the air and spinning you around, not a care in the world if you bumped something. He hugged you tightly, burying his head in your neck. Once he placed you back on the ground, he grabbed your face and kissed you deeply. 

“I love you too.” he sighed. “Te amo” He pressed his forehead against yours. 

You smiled, and hit his chest playfully. “Don’t you ever pull a stunt like this ever again. You hear me?” 

“Si mi vida. Perdón” He kissed the top of your head before enveloping you in his arms. 

“I love you” you mumbled against his chest. You truly did.

Miguel was going crazy. You had been teasing him all day long. Slight touches here, caresses there. Pressing your whole body flushed against his. You were driving him insane, more than he already was. He couldn’t wait to get to his flat and let you have him, because he had to be honest with himself. He didn’t have a clue of what was going to go down. 

Yes, he had done research. But that doesn’t mean anything. Besides, he knows that things like porn aren’t realistic, so he had a rough idea, but not quite. 

The end of the work day couldn’t come fast enough. Once it was over, you guys went to a nice dinner place, had fun, enjoyed some nice food, before deciding to go back to his place.

Miguel’s leg was bouncing up and down in the car. He was nervous, and you could tell. You placed your hand on his thigh, dangerously close to where he needed you the most. 

“It’s okay Mig. We don’t have to–”

“No!” he cut you off, way too eager. “I want to.”

“Okay” you rubbed his thigh affectionately, leaving your hand there for the rest of the ride home. 

As soon as you stepped into his flat, Miguel’s lips were on your own. Sloppy, needy, warm. His hands roamed your body, tearing away the outer layers, dropping them to the floor. You doing the same with his. 

He walked you backwards into his room, never detaching his lips from yours. You bumped a couple things on the way, but neither of you cared. Once you reached the bedroom, you turned you both around, pushing Miguel towards the bed. 

His legs hit the edge of the bed, landing on it on his back. You crawled on top of him, sitting on his lap. You ran your hands over his body, from the hem of his trousers to his neck, while Miguel’s hands landed on your waist. You bent over, your chests touching, your faces centimeters away from each other. 

“Are you sure?” you asked. 

“Yes” Miguel breathed out, before grabbing the back of your head and slamming your lips together. 

The kiss got heated. Tongues exploring each others mouth, while hands explored bodies. Your whole wait was on top of Miguel, but he didn’t care. You began moving your hips, creating friction. Your center was on top of Miguel’s hard on, the only thing separating your core from him being your panties. 

Your dress had rode up over your thighs, exposing more skin for Miguel to squeeze and touch. He groaned into the kiss, the movement of your hips driving him crazy, but he needed more. His hands planted themselves in your waist, guiding your movement. Once in a while, one would sneak down to grab a handful of your ass, giving it a pinch, resulting in a moan from you. 

Your kisses moved down, kissing along his jaw, down to his neck. You sucked the skin into your mouth. Miguel inhaled shakily.

“Amoor” he grunted. 

 You smiled into his neck, biting and nipping a little more before moving down his chest. You undid the buttons of his shirt, revealing the majestic skin underneath. He had some scars thanks to being Spiderman, but he was beautiful. You could see how his muscles moved with every breath he took. 

You kissed down the middle of his chest, over his sternum. Miguel arched his back towards your mouth, enjoying the feeling. You bite down, and nipped, tracing the scars with your tongue. You moved down, parting his legs, before sinking down to your knees, your eyes in level with the tent on his trousers.

You could already tell, he was big. You could see the outline over the material. Miguel used his elbows to lift himself off the bed, getting a better view of you. You pecked his dick over his pants, gazing up at him. Miguel swallowed hard.

You massaged him on top of his pants, getting Miguel used to the feeling. He groaned, closing his eyes momentarily, but opened them when he felt you undoing his belt. He snapped his eyes open, staring at you.

“Is this okay?”

“Ye– yes” he stuttered. 

You smiled at him, before continuing your actions. After a few seconds, you freed his cock out of its confinements, pulling his pants and underwear down. It hit the bottom of Miguel’s stomach, standing proud in front of you. 

You licked your lips, staring at him, already salivating by just the sight. 

“Is it okay?” Miguel asked, breaking you from your thoughts.

“It’s perfect” you answered, and as to show him, you wrapped your hand around his tip, spreading the precum already there. 

Miguel threw his head back, your hands felt way better than his own. 

You continued to stroke him slowly, up and down. Your thumb massaging his tip, pressing at the head over his slit. Miguel was breathing heavily now, uneven. His thighs began to shake. 

You wetted your lips, and continuing your hand movements, kissed his tip, tasting the salty precum. You spit on him, before wrapping your mouth over his head, beginning to match your hand movements with your head. 

Miguel tried to keep looking at you, but the warmth of your mouth and the way your tongue ran over his slit drove him mad. His elbows gave away, his back hitting the mattress again. He fisted his sheets on his hands, curse words leaving his lips. 

“Yess, Jesus, fuck” he moaned, spurring you on. 

With your free hand, you massaged his balls. Rolling the skin over between your fingers and squeezing them. You hollow your cheeks, sucking at his shaft. You took him as far as you could, his tip hitting the back of your throat, tears forming in your eyes. 

“Oh, God, yes” Miguel breathed out. He was feeling light headed, his skin sweaty, sticking to the sheets. He could feel a knot in his lower belly, almost at the point of bursting. 

You pulled back, taking a moment to breathe, but never stopping your hands. His tip was red, precum leaking from it. Tons of it. He was close, you could tell. He was lasting more than you would have thought, to be honest. 

“I’m closee” Miguel choked out. “Please” he begged, opening his eyes slightly to stare down at you.

You continued jerking him off. Your mouth going to his balls, sucking at them, before licking a stripe down the side, following the most prominent vein, reaching his tip. You gave a few kitten lips before putting it in your mouth again. Miguel’s head flew back, eyes shutting hard. 

He moaned your name over and over. Strings of “Yes, right there” “Fuck” and your name falling from his lips. All of a sudden, his vision went black. Cum spurted in your mouth, while you tried to swallow most of it. 

Miguel’s chest was heaving up and down, trying to catch his breath. He opened his eyes slowly, looking down at you, at the same moment you took his now softening cock out of your mouth, a string of saliva and cum still connecting the two. 

“Fuck” he mumbled. You looked so pretty. 

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, smiling at him and winking. You stood up slowly, letting your dress fall off your shoulders leaving you only with your panties on. You pulled them down your legs, kicking them behind once they reached your feet. 

Miguel was star struck. He couldn’t believe you could be more perfect than you already were. But you could. Before him, he was seeing a goddess. He was about to be fucked by a goddess. 

You straddled his lap once more, now without any item of clothing between your skin. You could already feel his dick hardening again against you. Miguel’s hand flew to your neck, bringing you in for a heated kiss. You moaned into his mouth, moving your hips to create the much needed friction you craved. His cock rubbed against your clit with each movement. 

His hands explored the new skin available, being cautious at first, but growing bolder. He squished your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingers, even pinching them, making you groan into his mouth. He swallowed every sound you made, and so did you. 

You broke this kiss, running your nails down his chest, looking between your bodies. You needed him inside of you, and he wanted you to be around him. He wanted to feel all of you. 

“Condom?” You breathed out, pulling back the hairs stuck to the sweat of your forehead. 

“In the drawer,” Miguel answered.

You climbed down his body, for a split second Miguel missed your warmth, but before he could complain about it, you were already back, motioning him to get more comfortable in the bed, before seating back in his legs. You opened the squared package, pulling the condom out. 

You looked at it, and back at Miguel. “Are you really sure?”

Miguel nodded, the anticipation making his brain fuzzy. He didn’t think he could speak right now. 

You nodded, positioning yourself better. You stroke him a few times, before rolling the condom on. You lifted yourself up, using Miguel’s chest as support, while his arms flew to your waist to help you. You aligned his dick with your entrance. You were already wet from the anticipation and just making him come. He sounded so pretty, breaking under your touch. Cumming just for you, and only you. 

You rubbed his tip along your slit, tapping your clit a few times, before aligned it with your hole. You breathed in, before sinking slowly. He stretched you out so perfectly, it stinged a little, but it felt so good. 

Your mouth and Miguel’s fell open. It was so intense, finally being connected. You reached down, your hips flushed with his. Miguel’s nails were digging into your waist, while your hands squeezed his shoulders. 

You got used to his size before starting to move slowly, rocking your hips back and forth. Miguel let out a shaky breath, watching your movements. 

“Touch me” you purred, leaning over and taking his ear lob between your teeth, your breath tickling the side of his face. 

One of his hands stayed glued to your waist, while the other played with your breasts, alternating between the two. You nipped at his neck, leaving hickies and bite marks where no one could see them, only you. 

Miguel whined, he was enjoying the feeling, but he needed more. 

“Please, more” He begged, his hand squeezing harshly on one of your tits. 

You sat up straight, placing your hands flat on his chest for support. You lifted yourself up, leaving only half of his cock inside of you, before sinking back down. You both moaned at the same time, he felt so good inside of you. 

You kept doing that a couple more times, while Miguel forced himself to keep his eyes open, watching how his dick disappeared inside of you. Once you got used to it, you set up a rhythm, using Miguel’s chest and shoulders as support. Miguel’s hands went back to your waist, while his head flew back. His mouth was slightly open, groans and moans feeling up the room, combined with the sound of skin slapping against skin. 

Miguel’s sounds were turning you on so badly, you could barely concentrate. He grunted your name, moaned it so loudly you were sure even the neighbours could hear. You weren’t any better. His dick was hitting just the right places, stretching you out just the way you liked it. 

“Fu-Fuck” you stuttered, shutting your eyes. You were getting close, and so was Miguel, by the way his cock twitched inside of you. 

“Mig– I’m close” You cried out, the pace you had been setting faltering. 

“Me too” he said, through gritted teeth.

His hips had begun to lift from the mattress, meeting yours halfway, helping you reach both your orgasms. 

“Migg” you whimpered, slumping forward.

Miguel opened his eyes slowly, as much as he could. Your nails were digging on his shoulders, while he had a death grip on your waist. One of his hands caressed your stomach, disappearing between your bodies, his thumb making contact with your clit. You jolted forward, the stimulation overwhelming you. 

Miguel began drawing tight circles on the num, matching his and yours broken rhythm. He could feel you were closed, your pussy was squeezing his cock so good, getting him over the edge. 

“Beba” he mumbled, before throwing his head back and cumming inside of the condom, making you fall over the edge and come around him.

You collapsed on his chest, his thumb rubbing small figures still in your clit while you rock your hips in circles, coming down from your high. 

You stilled your hips, while Miguel his hand from between you, placing it in your back and rubbing it up and down, with the little power he had left. You stayed silent for a couple minutes, recovering. Both of your bodies covered in sweat, and the both of you with smiles over your face. 

You lifted your head slightly, placing your chin on his chest, looking at him. He looked so peaceful, breathing slowly from his nose, eyes closed. You pulled back a strand of hair stuck to his forehead, caressing his face with the back of your fingers. Miguel opened his eyes, his gaze falling on yours. 

“Hi!” You whispered, stroking his cheek. 

“Hi” he smiled, eyes tired, blinking slowly, like a child almost falling asleep.

“I love you Mig”

“Te amo, mi vida, y siempre lo haré” (I love you, my life, and I’ll always do)

<<Part1 || masterlist ||

Authors notes: AHHHH I hope you guys enjoy this one as much as the first one!!! Thanks for all the love 🥹☺️

I'm a little anxious or nervous about this one because of all the lovey dovey stuff (mainly the smut) but anyway, I really like how it turned out and I hope you do too!!! I had so much fun with this one.

It turned out to be sooo long!! Funny that I cut the first one because I thought that 2k was A LOT, and this is 8k. Oh well.

I may edit this a little later, cause I don't really know how to feel about the smut. I honestly wanted it to be longer. But maybe I'll do another part, or a side story featuring what I wanted (Basically, Miguel eating you out). Anyway, let me know what you guys think!! Be truthful, don't hold back!! You can tell me: "Never write Smut again" And I'll allow it.

Practice makes perfect I suppose, so the more I write about sex the more I should improve, right? But, well. I think it is good to be the second time.

Tags: @guilty-pleasures21 @boogiemansbitch @amberbalcom14

[wisteria-lodge]

What do you think of Bellatrix? Would you have liked to explore more dynamics about her?

I *love* unpacking sibling dynamics and toxic relationships, so of course I find Bellatrix fascinating. (Also "Bellatrix Lestrange" might be my favorite name in a series full of very good names. 10/10.)

To me, what's key about Bellatrix is that she's the oldest of the three Black sisters. She could have been written as the indulged, attention-seeking bratty baby... but that would be a less interesting character.

Growing up, I think Narcissa was probably the quiet, passive child. That's her strategy when Voldemort shows up and she's once again living with a powerful, unstable authority figure. (I mean we have no info about what Cygnus Black was like, but he's Walburga Black's younger brother, and I imagine they probably enforced each other's extremism and intensity after their brother got blasted off the tapestry.) Narcissa's strategy is fade to the background, don't react, don't let them see what you're thinking, let them ignore you.

(I also think it's very believable that she went subtly went low contact with the Blacks after she married Lucius. The Malfoys have *always* been much more squeamish about violence, and much more politically moderate. I think Narcissa likes that.)

Andromeda you can take in a couple of different directions, but she was probably the problem child/scapegoat. And if she wasn't before she married Ted, she DEFINITELY was after. She also looks so much like Bellatrix that Harry does a double take, which I think... would have really bugged Bellatrix growing up, and informed their dynamic. Bellatrix sees herself as SO exceptional that she wouldn't want to be compared to anyone... but if she were, then it would be important that any casual comparisons come out in HER favor. (Which can't have been fun for Andromeda.) It's interesting that Voldemort underlines the connection between the two sisters as a way to get under Bellatrix's skin, and it works *really* well. She's got a competitive streak.

Because Bellatrix would have 100% grown up the *Golden Child.* Powerful, driven, beautiful in a striking way. The Daddy's Girl energy is off the charts (and she was probably Aunt Walburga's favorite too.) Bellatrix is described as acting like a queen, which is exactly how she sees herself. She grew up in an echo chamber not only telling her that people like her were special and better... but that she was the most Special one within the Special group.

So she meets Lord Voldemort. He's beautiful, driven, brilliant, power levels off the charts. He's Grindelwald born again (but straight) (probably.) He's not just the Dark Lord, he's a King. He wants to rule the world as an immortal god-king. He tells Bellatrix that this is going to happen, and she believes him.

And like - of course she's into that. But also, seeing yourself as a temporarily embarrassed Immortal Goddess Empress requires such a specific self-concept. You are going to need a delusionally high opinion of yourself... but also enough talent/power/beauty/external validation to carry that idea into adulthood.

(also Rodolphus... he doesn't count. Good Marriage was just another box to check as a young woman so Bellatrix could remain Perfect. The rules are different if you're a Immortal Goddess Empress anyway. Any consort she had would be so far below her own power level, or the power level of her King, that he literally would not matter. But she's not going to have a *kid* with Rodolphus. She's Voldemort's favorite, Rodolphus is not good enough. You sire PRINCES with the KING.)

Voldemort of course would know all this. And we see him have so much fun finding ways to creatively torture Lucius. He's a sadist in general sure, but there's something specifically about bringing pureblood royalty low that he gets REALLY into. He *likes* bringing up the werewolf nephew-in-law and and watching Bellatrix scramble desperately for ground, crying, while the rest of the Death Eaters point and laugh. Until he tells them to cut it out, because he's the only one with enough power to do that.

And then Bellatrix goes back to her room and probably constructs a whole narrative about how that was actually Voldemort protecting her, because she's the most Special, and it's all in good fun really. Because the alternative is having to admit that she's not extraordinary, she's just a punching bag (like Lucius Malfoy.) This is where a lot of her anger and instability come from. Every time she's in a situation where someone else is doing something *more* or *better* ... she lashes out.

In the main timeline of the books this mainly shows up in her dynamic with Narcissa. Bellatrix tries to give orders in Malfoy Manor (I am sure it really annoys her that Voldemort is using her sisters house as his HQ. That isn't how it's supposed to go.) Narcissa is sacrificing Draco for the Dark Lord? Well, Bellatrix would have five sons (hypothetically) and sacrifice them all (happily.) She tries to shift the blame for Department of Mysteries thing 100% onto Lucius, and gets really defensive when Snape implies that he has more emotional intimacy with Voldemort than she does.

But she's still really, really useful, and Voldemort knows this. She is talented, and powerful, and his best enforcer. So he would have so much fun dangling that carrot just out of reach, forever. The prophecy makes such a big deal about Voldemort marking Harry "as his equal," because that's just not a thing he does. BELLATRIX certainly isn't his equal.

(dumbledore though... we can maybe revisit.)

[akashirl]

this is the part where i use tumblr as a diary. consider this whatever you'd like but i need to get this off of my chest.

i love sei so much. so, so much. it's immeasurable. no matter how happy or sad i am, no matter how strong or apathetic my feelings are, there is always warmth in my heart caused by him. it's a comforting feeling, knowing that he's here for me. even in his own, different way, we managed to be together in this universe, even if distant.

he just makes my heart flutter like i'm a little kid receiving a letter on valentine's day...everytime i look at him, i feel nervous due to unexplainable reasons. trust me, i don't know what it is either. is it because of my feelings for him or am i just getting lost in his eyes, once again?

love is a beautiful feeling. he reminds me of such everyday. he is everywhere, he is everything i see. all of my daily experiences, completely dominated by my occurring thoughts of him. sei is always present, one way or another.

you may find this a little bit unhealthy but it really isn't. when i was at my worst, he motivated me to become who i am today. i am still recovering, that is true, and i won't say that he saved me -- because as much as it looks like, he didn't. i was the one who saved myself, with him by my side, supporting me unconditionally. that is what true love feels like. i will never get to thank him enough for his presence in my life. it won't ever be enough.

and it's not like there isn't a pattern. in every room i'm in, in every media i consume, in every place my mind takes me, in every corner of my head -- he is there. i find him, over and over again. he truly is my soulmate. that much i know it's true.

he just makes me so happy and contributes to my mood more than anyone else in the world.

watching him grow as a person and become who he is today made me realize just how much i love him. even if he feels undeserving of love after his defeat -- even if he blames himself for not trying his best, even if he is still dwelling on his lost childhood and teenage years. i will be there. i will always be there.

i've said this before but it all comes down to how warm he makes my chest feel. it's the best feeling in the world - love. and being with someone who you care for and understand more than anyone else...it's priceless.

i was going to say that i am glad i found him but the truth is that we found eachother. the red string of fate put the both of us on a heart shaped lock, unable to escape -- not that i'd ever want to.

i just want to hold him in my arms and tell him that everything is going to be okay. that there's more to life than loss and unfortunate events. that he's more than a body, that he's so much more than the storm inside of his head, that he's so much more than a young boy inside a big house. i want to see him happy, i want to see him enjoying life to the fullest, something he hasn't been able to do. i want to see him smile. i want to let him know that perfection is so, so subjective -- and that in my eyes, all of him is perfect. cracked, broken, shattered, screwn over again and again -- dealt with as if he was nothing but a tool to success...i want him to know that he's more, so much more than that.

i want to see it in his eyes that he's content. sei deserves all the love this world has to offer, and i have the entire love of the world stored inside my heart.

loving him feels like having a taste of the sweetest cloud as well as feeling a spear cross your heart. it's an uncertainty how every day passes by -- ruled by thoughts of him. i miss his presence, his eyes, his touch, him. more than anything in this world...

i mean, how could you not adore such a kind soul? there is so much of him to love. sei is so deserving of it. love is not earned; but if it was, you can bet he'd be the absolute winner.

i don't say the word "love" a lot due to past traumas but there is no other word capable of explaining the fluttering feeling in my chest. and still, the word does not feel strong enough. i hope i make sense.

i just love him so, so much. it's a delight having him in my life, even if we have to be apart.

sei really is my safe place. my one and only. my love is immeasurable and my heart is sinking. in another life, you and i will be reunited. i just know it. you were made for me -- just like i was born to meet you.

♡

i doubt anyone has read this but if you did, i apologize. i just needed to talk about this somewhere and tumblr seemed like the perfect place. i just couldn't keep it in.

[thatiranianphantom]

it used to be mine (but now it's yours)

“You ruined me.” 

He is supposed to be at the Ozdust with Glinda. That’s what he’d said, taciturn and without looking at her, during their sole interaction that day. 

He’s been like that with her, recently. Not that she’s ever thought of them as particularly close. Not friends, per se, just…two people united by their shared loved one. Two people, if she were being a bit more honest, with what seemed to be a constant, crackling energy between them she’d never been able to explain. 

Not since the lion cub…and that day at the swimming hole near the poppy farm. Sitting on the edge, watching the muscles ripple in his shoulders, filled her with this strange heat she’d never felt before. And then that night, around the fire, where his eyes kept catching hers, the light reflecting this strange gaze in them, something that looked like…longing. 

But it couldn’t have been, could it? Not for her. Entirely wishful thinking, something she had tried very hard to push down. Made easier by the fact that he seemed to be resolutely ignoring her lately. 

Not now, though. After he’d pounded on her door, he’s standing in the doorframe, eyes ablaze, chest heaving as if he’d run here straight from the docks. 

“You ruined me,” he tells her, and Elphaba is smart, one of the smartest in her class, thank you very much, but she cannot for the life of her figure out what he means. 

He blazes into the room, stepping immediately into her side of the huge suite. 

“Fiyero, shouldn’t you be at the Ozdust? With Glinda?” It hurts, it physically hurts to say, but it shouldn’t. He’s not hers. He will never be hers, and the moment with the lion cub…it was just that. A moment. 

Handsome princes don’t take up with antisocial green girls. He’ll marry, if not Glinda, someone equally beautiful and perfect, and she is not that girl. 

He gives a hard nod of his head. “That’s the point. I was supposed to be there. With Glinda. I was supposed to be there, Elphaba, not here!” 

Elphaba cocks her head, eyes narrowing. “Then…why are you here? An hour after you left, looking like you just ran all the way?”

He looks at her incredulously, as if she’s ridiculous for not knowing. “I told you, Elpaba! Because of you!” 

“Because of…me?”

He nods again, as if she’s finally getting it. “You! I was…” he breaks off, running a shaking hand through his hair. “I was fine! I found pretty girls, pretty guys, anyone I wanted! And it was always fine!”

“I don’t want to hear this.” She doesn’t, she really doesn’t. She has no urge to hear about all the people before, all the people there will be after, how easily it all comes to him.

“No!” he seizes her by her shoulders, and suddenly she’s gazing into blue eyes and her heart is pounding. 

“It was fine, Elphaba. I danced through life, and I never thought about it. I never thought…until I met you.”

If possible, her heart picks up more. Until I met you. 

“I met you, and I…now everything is different!” He drops her arms and she feels the lack of warmth suddenly, feels just the tiniest bit emptier. 

“I met you twice, two goddamn times, Elphaba, and you ruined me!” 

Fiyero paces, makes his way between Glinda’s section of the room and hers, and if it were any other time, perhaps she’d see the irony in it. As it is, his words turn over and over in her head. 

Until I met you. 

You ruined me. 

She doesn’t know why she does it, but she reaches out and grabs his hand. Like that day. Like the day things changed. 

It calms him a bit, and that releases something in her. He stares at their joined hands and is silent for long moments, so long that she thinks perhaps he’s done, perhaps he’d just leave and they’d never speak about this again. But then he gives her hand a little tug, and she tumbles the short distance towards him. His other hand lifts, tracing over her hairline, down her cheek, and she’s sure he can hear her heart by this point, how loud it’s pounding. 

“I don’t think about it anymore, Fae,” he whispers. “Any of it. Glinda, the Ozdust, that dance through life…I don’t see it anymore. I don’t see it, because all I see is you.”