#and possibly things that only I will notice

[buck-star]

Housewife | L.H

>> The age gap between you and Logan was never a problem but what if he comes up with an idea — in which you would become his pretty, little housewife? <<

Pairing: Older!Boyfriend!Logan Howlett x Younger!Girlfriend!Reader

Wordcount: 5.880 Words

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, established relationship, age gap, angst, mention of housewife, misunderstanding, fluff, nicknames [bub, babygirl], smut [daddy kink, slight dom/sub, nipple play, breeding kink, kinda dirty talk, marking/lots of hickeys, begging, teasing, edging, oral (fem!rec), fingering, multiple orgasm, squirting, praises, unprotected p in v, kinda cockwarming, bit of aftercare]

Authors Note: @wtfhasmy-lifecometo Here we are! Logan and his pretty housewife — his pretty, modern housewife! Thank you for helping me to come up with that idea and helping me when I was stuck. Dividers made by me.

It was cold outside — almost cold enough for people to see their warm breath. The sun was only slightly brightening up the days; the autumn weather slowly turned into winter weather, and it was already visible. The leaves fell off the trees; the wind was blowing more and even older than before. People were wearing their winter coats already; the windows were foggy, and it almost froze in the mornings.

It was the perfect weather to stay home — to wear one of Logan’s big hoodies with a pair of panties and the fluffiest pair of socks you found. Luckily, you could use that day to just relax at home — your week off only started, and you made plans to use every possible opportunity to relax and do what you loved. Which started with cleaning, decorating, and baking or cooking before you would share sweet and passionate moments with your boyfriend in the evenings — cuddled up, watching movies. Maybe you would even bake or cook with him together.

The sound of the dishwasher interrupted your thoughts, making you turn around. A soft smile spread across your lips — you could finally bake some cookies. Since you and Logan used most of the bowls for snacks last night, you had to wash them first.

You stepped closer to the dishwasher, opening it to put everything that you didn’t need away, while you placed the necessary bowls and tools on the counter opposite the dishwasher.

You didn’t notice when Logan fumbled with his keys on the door, nor when he opened and closed it. Your boyfriend was standing in the doorframe, which led from the hallway into the kitchen, his shoes and coat still on. He couldn’t bring himself to look away from you, the way you were bending over the dishwasher. Your — his — hoodie was sliding down your bent-down upper body, revealing your ass, which was only covered by the pair of panties you were wearing.

A groan crept up his throat, threatening to slip past his lips. But Logan didn’t want to let you know that he was there already, not when his eyes could linger a moment on your ass. Not when he could admire your perfection while you didn’t even know that he was already home.

Logan wasn’t sure where those thoughts he got came from, but seeing you like that — sweet and bent over the dishwasher. It awakened things in him — things that made his heart beat faster, and his cock was then even harder in his pants.

You continued to clean, but when you felt a pair of eyes on you, you slowly got up and turned around to stare back into the green orbs of your boyfriend. Logan smirked. He took off his shoes and jacket — he wouldn’t dare to walk into the house further than there with his shoes on.

He didn’t once — Logan didn’t know that you just cleaned the floor, but he knew the moment you stomped after him, your hands were on your hips as you furrowed your brows. You looked him up and down, cleaning his throat when you reached his shoes. The threat that left your lips — Logan never thought that he would be that afraid of a toothbrush until the word left your lips. If Logan dares to walk over the freshly cleaned floor with his dirty shoes again, he will clean the whole floor in the whole house with a toothbrush.

“Hi, bub,” Logan grinned, walking through the kitchen closer to you. His lips curled up into a soft and beautiful smile — one he only reserved for you. You chuckle, waiting for the older man to make his way through the kitchen.

“Good afternoon, Lo,” you tease, using the phrase he used to say when you started dating. He rolled his eyes playfully; his calloused hands were reaching out to grab your waist and pull you closer against his muscular body. Logan couldn’t deny that he loves your teasing, but right now he’s hard enough to go at least five rounds without getting tired, and your teasing didn’t make it any better.

“Such a tease, my pretty girl. Know that I get fuckin’ hard when ya bend over and do these fucking chores?” He asked, his face hiding in your neck while he pressed his lips against your soft skin. Logan’s salt and pepper beard was tickling your sensitive neck, and you giggled, pushing him softly away. “Wouldn’t ya like to stay home to be my pretty lil housewife, bub?”

Your eyes widened, and you pushed away softly, bringing some distance between the two of you. Logan didn’t think bad of it in that situation, since it was the best way to face him properly. “Your what — your housewife?”

Logan nodded with a grin; his eyes lit up even more. You couldn’t believe what he said. Your boyfriend, who was all sweet and caring, who helped you with the household, who was proud of you for reaching a goal at work — he now wanted you to be nothing but a pretty little housewife for him?

“Ya don’t have to work. Just be pretty n’ happy,” he continued. The way your expression changed gave him the feeling that you liked it and that you were happy about it. But little did he know that your change of expression — your widened eyes and your slightly parted lips — were everything but a kind of happy expression.

“Logan…” you mumbled, shaking your head. He tilted his head, wondering what you would think about the idea. Logan loved the idea; you could be happy and he would do the work. “I don't think we should do that.”

“Why not, bub?” Logan almost pouted, not because you said no, but more because he didn't quite understand why you wouldn't like such an idea. It wasn’t that much of a big deal; he would make the money and care for the two of yo, while you can stay home, do what you're doing anyway, and use the rest of the time for other things to finish what you wanted to finish a while ago already, or just do what you love. “You wouldn't miss anything.”

“I would. My freedom, my independence." You said, narrowing your eyes as you looked at Logan with a slightly angry expression. How can he say that you wouldn't miss anything when he would kind of imprison you and make you dependent on him? You adored that he was — especially for his age — pretty familiar with modern relationships and modern things in general. But in that very moment you wondered if that was just a facade to get you to the point where he could turn you into a little housewife for him. “We aren't in the 1900’s anymore, Logan. I'm not gonna be a stupid housewife to be treated like a cleaning machine with fuck function.”

“A what—?” Logan asked, and his eyes widened when he noticed how you understood it. Of course, he knew you weren't in the 1900’s anymore, and he didn't want to treat you like that, but that's what you think. That was how he sounded for you — that you're not good for anything but cleaning and fucking. “Bub, that's not—”

“That's not what you meant? Then what else is the definition of ‘housewife’?” You interrupted him, glaring at him with a hurt but cold expression. Your boyfriend swallowed thickly, shaking his head slowly as he took a few steps closer. You immediately lifted your arms to keep the distance; your hands would press against his chest, and he would make another step closer, but Logan understood and stayed still again. “Don't you dare to come closer and try to convince me to become a stupid, fucked-out housewife. I'm an independent woman; I earn my own money; I can take care of myself.”

Without another word, you turn away from your boyfriend and walk out of the kitchen. Logan wanted to follow you, wanted to talk to you, but he knew that he needed to give you a moment to calm down. And maybe he could use that moment to think about a better way to formulate what he meant. A way that wouldn’t sound like it did, a way that wouldn't hurt you like it did before.

Logan leaned against the kitchen counter, his eyes drifting to the dishwasher, which was still half full with the clean dishes. He couldn't shake those pretty pictures out of his head, but also not the way your eyes showed so much hurt and coldness in them as he asked you to become his sweet housewife. To distract himself, he leaned down, taking a few plates before putting them into the kitchen counter, continuing the chores you started before he interrupted you earlier.

While he made the dishes, you walked into your shared bedroom, letting yourself fall down on the bed. You couldn't understand him; he never mentioned anything like that. Of course, sometimes he acted a bit like someone his age, but most of the time he didn't. But now, was it his facade that broke down and revealed his real him, or was it just who he always was and you ignored it?

Your eyes were focused on the ground in front of you, one of your legs bouncing. Tears blurred your view slowly. Was that really what he wanted? Did Logan see you as nothing but a housewife who will do all the chores and is only good to keep his bed warm?

Your thoughts were running wild. Logan used to help you with the chores; he always took good care of you. He was happy with you when you reached a goal — no matter if it was personal life or work life. Your boyfriend was the sweetest and most appreciative man you ever met. Your age gap was never something you thought much about — he had more experience, but that wasn't bad at all.

After a while, you heard a soft knock at the door. You looked up, your eyes immediately finding the green orbs of your boyfriend, who was standing in the doorframe. His eyes were filled with love and affection, and you felt the warmth spreading in your stomach. Logan smiled softly; he rested his head against the doorframe; he didn't move before you allowed him to come closer. He didn't want to make you mad again.

“Can we talk?” His voice was soft as he was waiting for you to either nod or shake your head. He knew you well enough to know that you would give him the opportunity to talk before you said anything. You always did it when he asked you to talk about something you discussed — and he appreciated it because it gave him the opportunity to tell you what he meant without you both being mad again.

You nodded, watching him push himself off the door frame and walk over to the bed. Instead of sitting down next to you like he usually does, he kneels down between your legs. His knees were cracking, and your lips curled up, forming a soft smile. Logan grumpled, his arms resting on your thighs, and he tilted his head back slightly to look into your eyes.

“That’s what ya like? Ya old man's knees cracking?” Logan chuckled, leaning down to kiss your bare thighs before he looked back up. His calloused hands were stroking the insides of your thighs softly, causing a shiver running down your spine. “I'm sorry, bub. I didn't mean to let it sound like it sounded.”

You listened carefully to him, trying to understand what he meant with the way he said it earlier. With one of your hands, you reach out to brush your fingers over his bearded cheek. The pepper and salt hair were soft against your fingers, and you sighed softly. Logan smiled at you, squeezing your thighs gently to get your attention back. You didn't even notice that your eyes drifted down to his cheek where your hand was, but you then looked back up into his eyes.

“I don’t want ya to be a housewife to do chores and be a fucktoy for me. But I've seen the way ya eyes light up and your smile is even brighter when ya have days off and can just do what ya want. I love takin’ care of ya, of us. And I get enough money to care for both of us. I love ya, bub, I want ya to be happy,” he continued. And you finally understood what he meant. He didn't want to turn you into someone you aren't; he didn't want you to be dependent on him. Logan only wanted you to be happy. “And seeing you here, jus’ in my shirt and ya panties. It made me hard, yeah, but it's not about sex. It's about your happiness. Ya won't have to stress ya'self out with ya coworkers or ya boss.”

You nodded, a soft smile still across your lips, while you felt a few tears welling up in your eyes. “I'm sorry… I-I think I was afraid that you don't see me as the independent woman I am,” you admitted, earning a soft chuckle from Logan.

“Ya know, your independence makes ya damn hot. I wouldn't mind taking care of my girl more often, but I would never want to change ya,” Logan mumbled. His expression was lovely and soft, while his thick fingers were still stroking your legs softly. “I jus’ know that ya don't like a job that much.”

“I would love to work in the library for a few hours in the week,” you said, your eyes moving over his face. You caught every little detail of his handsome face and the way his skin wrinkled around his eyes and lips. “There are so many recipes and ideas of decoration I wanted to try out for a while now. And I find more ideas every day.”

Logan chuckled, getting up slowly. His knees cracked once again, and you giggled. Your boyfriend groaned, shaking his head when he towered above you. He leaned forward, pushing you with his weight back into the soft mattress of your bed. His hands were on both sides of your shoulders, while he held himself slightly above you to not smash you underneath him. Just when he was about to bring his lips closer to yours, you pushed at his shoulder, earning a questioning expression on his face.

“What about the other woman in town, the gossip girls?” you asked. There was a group of middle-aged to elderly people who liked to gossip about everything and everyone. They were always wondering how someone like Logan could be interested in you and the other way around. But would they find out that you would be his sweet little housewife? They would talk about it without even knowing much about you or your relationship with Logan. “They will laugh about it; they won't understand it. That I'm more than just a housewife for you.

“If they don't understand, then they haven't yet either. They don't know how a real man treats his girl. They are just envious because they don't have a man who carries them in their hands like I carry my princess,” Logan mumbled, leaning closer again. A mischievous glint was visible in his eyes. Logan's voice was suddenly way lower, and the grin on his lips widened. “How about we remind them of what you have and what they will never get?”

A soft whine leaves your lips when Logan presses his lips softly against yours. His big hands slid up and down your sides, pushing the shirt up to reveal more of your skin. You brought your hands to his neck, wrapping them tightly around it to pull Logan even closer. After a moment, he pulls away, your shirt above your breasts already. Both of you were panting slightly, trying to catch your breath.

“Ya haven't answered yet, bub,” Logan reminded you, chuckling when he looked into your face. Your lips were red and slightly swollen, your eyes on him but with a lustful glint in them. Logan leaned down again, pecking your lips before he moved his lips along your jawline to your ear. “Ya look pretty like that, all fucked out, and I haven't even given ya anything but a kiss yet.”

“Lo, please,” you whined, bucking your hips against his. Logan pinned your hips back into the mattress immediately. His fingers were digging into your waist; his smirk widened when you whined more and squirmed in his tight grip. “Please, please, Lo!”

“No, try again. I know you can do better, bub,” he growled, his fingers still digging into your hips. He didn't move, just staring down at you with an amused expression. You knew what he wanted to hear, and you really wanted to say it, but his warm hands, his tight grip, his eyes on you, and just the way he kissed you — it made it so hard to swallow the lumb and beg for more than just a ‘please, Lo.’ “Come on, babygirl.”

“Daddy, please?” You whined, wiggling in his grip, and he finally released you and let you thrust your hips upwards against his. Logan chuckled low in his throat, his lips crashing on yours once again. Only the familiar sound of his claws coming out of his hands made you pull away and stare at the shattered shirt you were slightly covered with. “Lo—“

“Ah, try again, babygirl. Don’t want ya to complain; ya can have a new shirt; my wardrobe is full, so let Daddy enjoy the view of his girl,” he grumbled, sliding down your body until he was able to hide his face between your breasts. Logan kissed the soft skin there, sucking and biting softly before he slowly moved his face to one of your nipples. He left a trail of wet kisses and even some hickeys.

“Daddy,” you whimpered, arching your back to push your tits into him. Logan grunted against you, his tongue twirling around your nipple. It was like shocks were sent to your body, his tongue working around it. Logan changed between licking over your nipple and nippling at the skin around it, and it was driving you crazy. “More, please, Daddy, more.”

Your boyfriend pushed your hips back into the mattress. He didn’t move away from your chest, though, just taking one of your nipples between his lips before sucking on it softly. He then moved toward the other, continuing the kisses and bites before he gave your nipple the full attention again. “Imagine how full they will be once I pumped ya full with my babies.”

Logan was thrusting his hips forward, his hard, big bulge pressing between your legs against your panties. You could practically feel every inch of him already; you were sure you would be able to see the outline through his pants if you looked at his crotch.

A low groan left his lips, his teeth scratching over the swell of your breasts before he kissed his way down your belly. Logan couldn’t help but have to leave as many hickeys and marks of him on your skin as possible. He wanted everyone to know that you belonged to him; his marks should be able to be seen on your whole body.

“Such a good girl, being so good for me, aren’t ya, bub?” He groaned against your skin. Logan looked up to look into your face as he was biting into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down slowly before he thought it would be easier to cut your panties with his claws as well — so he did. He still held the fabric between his teeth, throwing it to the side before he showed you his claws with a grin. “They are nice to undress ya before ya can even complain.”

“I’m not complaining unless you ruin the clothes,” you mumbled, looking down at your boyfriend, who was kneeling in front of the bed with his face close to your dripping pussy. You shivered as his warm breath was coming down against your cunt.

“Ya know, it’s not me who ruined them first,” Logan growled with a grin. His claws were back in his hands as he grasped your legs, placed your feet on the edge of the bed, and pulled you closer by your hips. His eyes were locked with yours for a moment longer before he looked down between your legs. He knew you were dripping; he smelled the sweetness of your arousal. Your boyfriend leaned closer, kissing you just above your pussy with a soft chuckle. “Think ya ruined ya panties all by ya’self before I did, babygirl. Ya’re soaking.”

Without another word, he leaned down, his lips pressing soft but tender kisses on your pussy. Logan used both of his hands to hold your thighs spread open for him while he licked a thick strip from your dripping entrance to your clit. A low groan left his lips as he finally had your taste back on his tongue, his lips coming to a halt at your clit. The moment he started to suck softly, you knew you wouldn't last long before the first orgasm was about to crash down on you.

Your moans and whines got louder, and Logan knew that he only needed to continue his action before you would fall apart for him. But he didn’t want to give you it just yet, at least not without having you beg him. So, he let go of your clit with a soft pop. Logan smirked; he waited a moment, letting your builded orgasm slowly fade away.

“Logan, please. No teasing,” you whined, arching your back, but he just chuckled. When your orgasm completely faded, he lowered his head again and kept sucking your clit. But this time he used one of his hands, bringing his fingers to your entrance. Logan grinned against you, his thick digits smearing your wetness all over your pussy.

“If ya want to come, then do it when I push in; if ya don't, you won’t get my cock,” Logan said in a low and slightly darker tone. Your boyfriend pushed two of his fingers into you, circling your clit with his tongue while his eyes were fixated on your face. He needed to see your expression when you would come all over his fingers.

A low groan that left his lips sent vibration through your body; moans fell off your lips, and you couldn’t help but squeeze his fingers as tight as possible. Your mouth fell open, the sounds he loved so much coming out like racked breaths. With another hard and deep thrust of his fingers into you, you came all over his fingers.

“Good girl, such a good girl from me. Babydoll, come, give me another one. Need to have ya all nice and wet before I can give ya my cock,” he mumbled. Logan never stopped pumping his fingers lazily in and out of your tightness.

You were panting, trying to catch your breath. Logan wasn’t really helpful; his talented fingers were still rubbing against the spongy spot inside of you. His tongue flicked around your clit and in now time you were moaning and whining once again. Your fingers were digging into Logan’s hair, pulling him closer even though you could feel your clit burning slightly from the overstimulation.

“Fuck, squeeze my fingers already so much, bub,” Logan grumbled against your clit. He was thrusting his fingers in a steady rhythm deep into you; he was always reaching parts you never could. And your boyfriend knew exactly when and how to curl his fingers to make you scream, to make your toes curl, your legs shaking, and your breath hitching. “Fuckin’ love when ya look all fucked out for me. Bein’ all sweet around everyone, but only I know that my girl can be such a filthy little slut for her old man, huh?”

“Daddy, please!” There wasn’t anything else left in your mind than his name, Daddy, and please. And fuck, he loved it; he hadn’t even fucked you yet, at least most properly with his cock. “Please, need you, Logan!”

“What do ya need, babygirl? Need to come? Need Daddy’s dick? Need me to stop?” He asked, smirking when you nodded before you started to shake your head about the last question. Logan enjoyed it way too much; wouldn’t his dick be so painfully hard and your pout so adorable, he would have edged and teased you a while longer?

Your legs were shaking when he curled his fingers deep inside of you once again. With another flick of his tongue around your clit you came once again. Logan smirked as he noticed your squirting, soaking his hand and beard. Your boyfriend licked over your cunt, trying to get every little drop of your arousal before he leaned back. He fucked you slowly through your orgasm until you were squirming under him once again. Only then he pulled his fingers out of you, earning a whine from you.

“Taste so fuckin’ good,” he mumbled, sticking his fingers into his mouth to suck them clean as well. “Think ya can take another one or need a break?”

Your legs were still shaking, your heart racing, but your pussy screamed for more, for his cock. Logan slowly undresses himself, giving you a bit of a show as he revealed the thick muscles he was hiding underneath his shirt. His pants followed, and you licked your lips as you saw the thick bulge in his boxer briefs.

“Ya like what ya see, babygirl?” Logan asked. He waited for your nodding before he pushed the thin fabric down as well, leaving him naked. His cock sprung free, slapping against his abdomen. The tip of his thick length was red, leaking pre-cum. Your eyes wandered down his thick shaft, along the vein, and you whined instinctively when you imagined the feeling of it in your sore cunt.

“Love what I see, but need to feel you, Daddy." Need to feel your cock, please.” You wiggled your ass, your legs spread wide open. Logan had the perfect view onto your throbbing pussy. His tongue darted out, and he licked across his plump lips before he took a step closer to you again. Logan grasped your hips, lifting you up before throwing you in the middle of the bed. He slowly crawled into it, pushing your legs apart to lay down in between them. Logan's thick cock was pressing against your wet cunt. “Please, need you already.”

“So impatient, bub,” he smirked down at you, pressing his lips along your jaw. The movements of your hips in his direction caused slight friction, and he groaned against your skin. Your impatience made him want to tease you further, but your pussy rubbing against his dick caused the animal in him to take over. Logan brought one of his hands between your bodies, stroking his cock before he lined it up with your entrance. “Say ‘please, daddy’.”

“Pl—” You get interrupted when his thick cock pushed into your tight cunt with one thrust of his hips against yours. Logan grunted, a smirk forming on his face when he bottomed out immediately. Your walls were squeezing him tightly, sucking him in deeper. Your lips were parted, and your eyes widened while you looked up at him, bringing your hands to his back to pull him closer. “Please, daddy.”

“Good girl, so good,” he chuckled, leaning down to press his lips against yours. Logan slowly pulled his cock out, only a few inches before he thrusted back into your tightness. His balls were flush against your ass; your dripping arousal coated them already, and he hasn’t even started. “Fuck, ya so wet for me, bub.”

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, leaving red marks. Logan wouldn’t admit it to anyone but you, but he enjoyed the slight pain that came when your nails scratched over his skin. And even though the marks healed pretty quick, he did enjoy them anyway.

Your boyfriend didn’t move his lips away from yours, at least not really. He gave the two of you a moment to catch your breath before he kissed you again. Logan’s hips were moving slowly, letting you feel every vein and inch of his cock deep in your tight pussy.

“Ya feelin’ so good, so tight. Squeezing my cock so hard, feel like I cum like a teenager,” Logan growled against your lips, smirking at you. You chuckled in response, squeezing him even more to get another groan, followed by a low moan out of your boyfriend's throat. “Fuck, ya really want that? Want to have me cumin’ before ya?”

You nodded, pulling him into another kiss. Logan pushed his hips flush against yours, the tip of his cock hitting your cervix. You moaned, nails digging further into his shoulders — the feeling turned him on even more, and he couldn’t help but have to pull almost completely out before thrusting with one hard and fast movement back into you.

Logan’s thrusts become harder, but he keeps a slow pace, letting you feel him stretching your tight cunt around his thick length. Your heart was beating fast; you were panting because of the pleasure that was cursing through your body.

“Doing so well for me, bub. Can feel ya clenching around me, sucking me even deeper. Such a greedy little girl for me,” Logan groaned, his lips pressing once again against yours. His tongue slid across your lips, asking for access, which you gladly gave him. Your tongue dancing with his, causing the feelings — the pleasure and love — to intensify.

"Your...” you mumbled, panting when his cock hit your cervix once again. Logan chuckled, knowing exactly what you meant — and if he was possessive and in love with you before, then he was now even more. He loved you, every inch, every part. Logan loved you.

“Yeah, my greedy little girl, all mine.” A whine left your lips, the words making you clench harder around him. It took everything in him to not spill his seed into you, but you pushed him further to the edge with every little squeeze of your walls around him. “Come, babygirl, come for me. Come for daddy.”

Logan snaked one of his calloused hands between your bodies, finding your clit immediately. He added some pressure on your bundle of nerves, making you gasp, and the grasp around his shoulders got almost painful. Logan felt his cock twitching inside of you, but not only he was close; he knew exactly how to play with you to make you whine and wiggle underneath him — and especially how to make you come before he’s going to come.

You thrust your hips against his, his balls slapping against your ass with every of his or your movements. Your boyfriend starts rubbing circles on your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Fuck... fuck.. please, bub, come for me. Need ya to come, please." Logan panted, his hips thrusting less rhythmically into you, his forehead falling against yours, and he has to take his hand away from your pussy. With both of his hands on either side of your shoulders, his claws come out, ripping the sheets and the mattress. “Please, fuckin’ shit. Come, babygirl, come all over Daddy’s dick.”

You’re unsure if you want to chuckle or moan, but Logan was just too cute once he gets desperate. He needed you to come; he had a lot of stamina, but right now he just wanted to come with you before he would take care of you. He needed it. He needed to feel your pulsating walls literally squeezing the cum out of him.

With his cock, he was reaching all the right spots, and you felt yourself getting closer to the edge; a particular hard thrust pushed you over it. You were squirming underneath him while he held you down on the mattress with his weight. You moaned loudly, almost screaming his name when he kept fucking into you; his thrusts got sloppier and faster.

“Please, bub. Fuck, ya feel so fuckin’ good,” he groaned, his breath heavy, his eyes staring down into yours while he felt his cock twitching once again. With a low growl, he pushes himself completely into you, his breath fanning over your face as he finally comes inside of you — pumping all of his cum deep into your clenching cunt. A low moan left his lips; you were so beautiful and all his. “Fuck… fucking fill ya up. Babygirl, you’re doing so good. Feelin’ perfect around my cock.”

You were both panting. Logan let himself fall down on top of you, his face hiding in the crock of your neck. Logan slowly removed his claws from the mattress and the sheets, groaning when he noticed the mess he caused with that.

“Guess we need new sheets and maybe a new mattress. The third this year…” You mumbled and chuckled softly. You slowly brought your hands to his hair, twirling his soft strands around your fingers. It always steadied you and also him — the way you held him so close to you, your soft touches after he practically fucked you dumb.

“Mhm… but we can do that later. Right now, jus’ wanna be close to ya, wanna take care of ya,” he grumbled into your neck. He was still breathless; soft groans and even moans left your lips when your walls clenched around his softening cock. “How about a warm bath?”

“With lots of bubbles?” You asked, feeling the nodding of Logan’s head. Of course, since you first introduced him to bubble baths, he was turning into a child when it came to it. He adored it, especially when he could blow them at you. Most of the time, half of the bathroom was wet and slippery, but none of you could care about it.

“All the bubbles we want.” He smirked, lifting his head softly. Logan pressed his lips softly against yours; his hands were moving up and down your sides, caressing your skin softly. “I love you, bub. Now, let’s get us both into the tub.”

“I love you, too, Lo.” You mumbled against his lips, pecking them. Logan lifted himself softly, his cock still inside of you, and he took care that it wasn’t going to slip out of you just yet. He placed his hands underneath your thighs, lifting you up. “Gonna keep you warm now or ready for another round in the tub?”

“Maybe both… but need to keep ya stuffed full. Gonna get that pretty belly of yours filled with my babies,” Logan groaned, his cock twitching about the thought. But he wasn’t the only one who was excited about the idea; your pussy was gripping his thick length tightly, walls pulsating and sucking him deeper into you. “Like that, huh. Gonna keep you stuffed with my cum, bub. But first I will give ya a good message in the tub before I’m gonna give ya more of my cum. My sweet, precious girl, my pretty, modern housewife.”

COMMENT and REBLOG to support your content creators.

I do not allow my work to be copied, translated or somewhere else published.

We have a community for all the Bucky, Steve, Logan, other marvel and SPN characters, if you want to join: https://www.tumblr.com/join/RAnM-gz3

Taglist: @pono-pura-vida @sergeantbarnessdoll @rogersbarber @kimmie113080 @sebastianstanisahotmf @fandomxo00

[prael]

Head-To-Head

Itzy Yuna & Artms/Loona Heejin x male reader smut [Commissioned fic]

Masterlist word count: 13,663 Kofi(donations/commissions)

There must be a reason. There's always a reason.

Yuna has this look in her eye when she's up to something, and she's always up to something.

She's the one who always has a plan to execute, a scheme to concoct, an idea to hatch. Everything usually aligns with a single, specific purpose: to be the best. To beat everyone at everything. It's why she's captain of the debate team and the track team. It's why she's the president of the student council. She's the type of person to do every possible extracurricular there is, and to dominate them all, no matter how small, no matter how seemingly irrelevant.

Though her every achievement is matched by another, and it eats at her like nothing else.

She's got this sweet smile, a gentle lilt to her voice, and the most charming laugh, but you've known her long enough to understand that none of it means she's on your side. Not always, anyway. Not until she's figured out what she wants. (You're not saying it's all fake. She is a sweet person, really. But there's something else behind her eyes that never disappears completely, no matter how hard she tries to cover it up.)

"Have you eaten today? You look a little pale," Yuna says, her brow furrowing with worry.

"I'm fine," you reply. "I had lunch. Just... a little tired."

"Are you sure? I don't want you to go hungry or overwork yourself. I'm sure it's tough being the principal's son. Are you eating your meals on time?"

Even for Yuna, this is a bit too much. A full-court press of concern, all focused on you. It feels like a trap. "Seriously, I'm okay. I'm just trying to work on a little project."

"Can I help?" She asks as she's already pulling her chair closer to you, so she's practically peering over your shoulder. "What are you working on?"

"It's not difficult. I'm fine. Thank you."

"Two minds are better than one," she playfully says as she leans in a little closer, her hair falling on your shoulder and touching your cheek. Then there's the smell, an expensive, intoxicating fragrance that sends a shiver down your spine and a warmth deep inside your gut.

"Yuna," you say, and even you're not quite sure if you're protesting or pleading. "I'm fine. You don't need to."

You feel her hand on your back. It's warm. Her thumb strokes back and forth. The pressure is gentle but persistent. "It's what friends are for, they help each other out," she says softly.

The touch is comforting, almost enough to make you melt right there on the spot. "I have to be able to do this alone. Thank you, really, thank you, but I'll be okay."

Her hand moves up, and now it's resting on the back of your neck. You can't help but tense up a little bit, and she must notice because her hand goes away.

"If you say so," Yuna says. "Then how about you let me buy you dinner later? It'll be my treat."

"No, no," you quickly reply. "You don't have to."

"Please, I insist. It'll make me feel better."

She's so convincing. That's the thing about Yuna. She has the kind of voice and manner that makes you believe whatever it is she's saying. You feel a strange sense of urgency, the way she says this, the way she's looking at you. You can't say no. "Okay. Thank you."

"See you after school." She stands up and walks out of the classroom.

That was weird. There's an explanation for it, but there's no way she could know, is there? She's always two steps ahead of everyone. How could she have found out about it when your father only told you the day before?

Your stomach growls.

Maybe you should have actually eaten lunch.

-

There are no classes at the moment, not with graduation right around the corner and the last of the finals coming to an end. You're sitting in the afternoon sun, enjoying the quiet before the evening rush. The breeze is cool and pleasant, and the grass is soft and plush. It's a good day to sit and relax.

There are not many people out in the courtyard, but you recognise the one that's been sitting out here almost as long as you have.

Heejin's sitting against a tree. Her hair is a little messy, as usual, but the soft breeze keeps it from being too unruly. Her clothes are a little loose as if she doesn't care about how she looks. She looks so peaceful, so tranquil, as she reads the book in her lap. She has her headphones on, listening to music and blocking out the rest of the world.

She's cute, you think.

You should probably stop staring.

(You're trying not to, you swear, but there's just something so... easy on the eyes, about Heejin.)

There's a sudden swirl of wind, a little stronger than before, that blows the trees. Leaves are swirling and fluttering, and the swaying of the branches breaks the shade that Heejin's tree provides. A ray of sunlight shines down on her, bright and beautiful. The glow makes her seem to shine, but she doesn't appreciate it, it blinds her for a moment, and you see the way her eyes narrow, and the annoyed look on her face.

It's enough to pull her out of her trance. Her gaze moves, and her eyes lock with yours. Her expression is flat and unamused. You can almost feel her judgement from here.

Oh. Yeah. Right. That's what you get for staring. You look away.

"Hey."

Oh no.

"Can we talk?"

You look up, and Heejin's standing over you. She's not smiling, but she's not frowning, either. Her face is neutral and expressionless, but you know it's because she doesn't have anything nice to say.

"Hi, uh," you nervously stammer. "What's up?"

She gestures at the space on the bench next to you. "Can I sit?"

"Go ahead." You slide a little bit to the side.

Heejin takes a seat. "I heard something from a friend, and I was wondering if it was true," she says. "I wanted to hear it from you directly, so I'm going to ask you."

"Yeah?"

Heejin looks at you straight on. She's not one to hold back. "Is your dad asking you to decide between me and Yuna for valedictorian?"

There it is. Confirmation of your suspicions. It makes little to no sense how it got out so quickly, or how it got out at all. The whole thing was meant to be a secret, after all. You hesitate to say anything.

She doesn't seem offended that you haven't answered. Instead, she says, "You don't have to tell me. I already know it's true."

You don't have an answer to that. Heejin is like this; one-sided conversations, like she has her own way of thinking about things. She's a bit blunt and brusque, and it's a bit jarring. It's the kind of honesty and openness that's a bit too raw to be considered polite.

"You don't seem very surprised," you finally reply.

Heejin gives you a shrug. "It's not surprising. The school's a bit of a mess. I'm not sure the principal has his shit together." She looks at you with a slight smirk. "No offence."

You let out a little chuckle. "Yeah. It's okay."

"Your dad's a little..." Heejin makes a vague gesture with her hand. "He's trying. He's trying to be a good principal, I can tell, but he's just a little, y'know, not great."

"I get it."

She lets out a soft laugh and shakes her head. "Well, he's your dad, I shouldn't shit talk him too much. But I mean, it's a pretty big deal that he's making his son pick between the top students. I think that's messed up, honestly."

"To be fair, there's no way to split the two of you," you try to explain. "You're putting up the exact same scores, all across the board. You're tied."

"Yeah. I know. I know." She leans back a bit on the bench and lets out a long sigh. "Yuna's tough to compete against. She always has her head in the game. She's got that look in her eye when she's on to you." Heejin looks at you. "You know what I mean, right?"

You nod your head in agreement. "I know."

"I've come to a conclusion: there's only one way to beat her. You know what I have to do, right?"

"...What?"

Heejin gives you a smirk and leans in. She rests her hand on your thigh. Your eyes go wide in shock, and she lets out a little giggle. "I have to convince you to let me be valedictorian." Her fingers squeeze the inside of your leg. "I can persuade you, right?"

Your hand snaps down to her wrist and holds her. "Heejin," you say, and your voice is a little shaky. "What are you—"

"Don't play dumb, I've seen the way you look at me," Heejin interrupts. "I see it, the way you're checking me out. I'm hot, right? You can say it, I don't mind."

She's such a straight shooter, there's no other way to describe her. There's no double entendre or sneaky little insinuation or subtle implication. It's just plain and simple. Heejin says exactly what she wants, no more, no less. There's something attractive about that. Something... exciting.

But this is a lot to process, especially when her hand's on your leg.

"I... um, I," you stutter. "I..."

"What the hell is this!?"

Oh no.

The voice makes the two of you jump a little. Yuna's marching up to the both of you, and she doesn't look happy. You let go of Heejin's hand, but it doesn't make much difference. Her hand's still on you, after all.

"Are you really stooping so low?" Yuna demands, pointing at Heejin.

"Talking to my friend? That's stooping low, now?" Heejin asks, raising an eyebrow. Her voice is casual and indifferent, almost as if she's goading her. "I can't talk to my friend anymore?"

"Get your hands off him, Heejin. It's not a good look." Yuna crosses her arms. "Don't you have any self-respect?"

Heejin lets go of your leg, but she's as unflustered as ever. "I was just talking to my friend. I can talk to him, can't I?"

"He has a lot on his mind. He doesn't need you distracting him."

Heejin rolls her eyes and starts on the defensive. "I wasn't doing anything like that." She stands up. "He has enough brains to think for himself." She looks at you, and there's a little smirk on her lips. "Right?"

You're about to reply, but Yuna steps between you and Heejin, the skirt resting on her wide hips in front of your face and blocking your view of Heejin. She's staring at Heejin. Her eyes are narrowed. "I don't know what you were doing, Heejin. But it wasn't just talking."

"I was giving him my suggestion," Heejin answers.

Yuna shakes her head. "He doesn't want your 'suggestions', whatever that is."

"He can speak for himself, y'know? He's a smart kid," Heejin says, a little more sharply. "If I wanted his attention, he'd give it to me. He knows what he wants. Don't you?" She asks, looking over at you with a little twinkle in her eye.

"I..." You swallow. It's a bit difficult to think when there's so much going on. "I..."

Heejin laughs a little at how you're a little lost for words. Yuna, though, is not nearly as amused. She steps closer to Heejin and leans in to say something. You don't hear what she's saying. It's too quiet for you to make it out. Heejin listens, and her smirk fades.

"Fine. Whatever," Heejin says. She walks away without a single glance at you.

"Wait," you say to her, standing up. You're about to follow her, but Yuna steps in the way again, and her expression makes you stop.

"What's wrong?" Yuna asks, blinking her wide, innocent eyes. "Is something the matter?"

"I was just gonna say goodbye," you reply. It seems silly to try to explain this, and Yuna is looking a bit impatient. You decide not to say more. "Never mind."

She smiles and links arms with you. She's a lot more close than she's usually been. She's pressed up to your side, her arm entwined with yours, her chest pressed up against your shoulder, soft and warm. You try to ignore it. You're trying not to read too much into things. But it's a little tough when Yuna's the one being affectionate like that. "I was thinking," she says, "we can grab some pizza for dinner if you don't mind."

You take a final glance at Heejin as she walks away. Her backpack is slung over one shoulder. Her headphones are back on. Her head is held high as she walks with a strut. Those long bare legs protrude from under her skirt.

Yuna pulls at you. "Come on."

-

Dinner is, well, dinner. You and Yuna talk, about the usual things. You both chat about what's next after graduation and then she tells you about her family and how her sister has been annoying her lately. You listen. You nod. You talk. You eat. You talk again. It's a little weird, but it's nice, and the pizza's great. You're grateful.

But you know it's all a game.

If Heejin knows the power you've been handed, then Yuna does, too. And if both of them know, then the only way to get ahead of each other is by being more persuasive. Heejin had a... direct method. Yuna, though, she's more subtle, but you're sure her intentions aren't any less self-centred.

She turns the conversation to questions, focusing on you, rather than her. She's batting her eyelashes as she asks you questions about the school, about your family, about your friends. It's all innocent enough, but you're not stupid. You've known Yuna long enough to understand how she's playing you. And she's good at it. It's almost too easy to fall under her spell, to fall for her charms. The way she leans closer to you. How her fingers run across your palm, tracing little circles. The way she laughs at all your jokes, even the ones you know are dumb. How her smile is always on her lips. How her eyes sparkle whenever she's listening. The way she tilts her head and pouts when she doesn't quite get something.

"You're so lucky to be the principal's son," she says as if it isn't an excuse to bring up the whole reason she's even sitting with you. "Must be fun having all the connections."

"It's not a big deal." You shrug. "He just treats me like a normal student." Mostly. "I don't get anything out of it. He's a little strict on me, honestly."

"I don't know, there must be some perks to it," Yuna insists. "I'd kill to be able to have that kind of privilege."

"Yeah? Like what?" you ask. You take another sip of your drink.

"I don't know." She runs a hand through her hair, brushing the strands out of her face, and lets out a little laugh. "You get to be first for everything, don't you?"

You shrug. "Not really."

"And you can probably flunk a class and just make your dad pass you anyway." She winks. "No?"

"Not how that works," you reply. You're getting the sense she's trying to work up to a point.

"Okay, maybe not, but there's got to be something good." She smiles. "You've got any secrets?"

You raise an eyebrow. "What kind of secrets?"

"Oh, come on," she playfully insists. "I bet your dad's told you all the juicy gossip about the teachers and staff, right? Or maybe even about students?"

You don't answer. She takes that as an affirmative.

"Oooh, you're holding out on me. I wanna know!" Yuna grabs your hands and leans closer to you. Her shirt hangs low on her neck, exposing a little more cleavage than you're comfortable seeing. "Tell me a secret. Something interesting."

"Like what?" you ask. You know you probably should lean away, but it feels a bit too rude to do that.

"Anything. Something fun." She squeezes your hand. "I promise I won't tell. Come on. Just between the two of us."

You feel like she's closing in on you. You can smell the faint scent of her perfume, just like earlier in the afternoon, and her eyes are twinkling, her lips pouting ever so slightly. The warmth of her skin against yours, the way her thumb is rubbing your palm. "Okay, fine." You look around, making sure no one else can hear. "The art teachers, she, uh..."

"Yeah?"

"She's getting a divorce, turns out she's into women."

"Oh my god." She blinks and covers her mouth in surprise. "No way."

"It's true," you say. "There's been a whole thing, her husband found out about an affair, it's all messy. Don't tell anyone, okay? I wasn't meant to tell."

"I won't," she says, a coy smile on her face. "Don't worry. I can keep secrets. Your secret's safe with me." She leans back, but her hand doesn't let go of yours. "But it's not just gossip, right? Does your dad ever, you know..." Her other hand joins her first, her palms rubbing your knuckles, her skin warm and soft against yours, her fingers stroking and massaging you. "Ask you for advice? Maybe you have some sway on how things get run at school, huh? I'm just curious, I swear."

It's an obvious question, and it's the kind that you expected she might try to ask, eventually. "Sometimes, yeah."

She nods. Her hands don't stop. They continue to caress and stroke, her touch gentle and comforting, but also firm, persistent, almost suggestive. The sensation makes you tingle a little, a little buzz running through your body. "That must be fun," she murmurs. "So has he asked for any advice lately?"

You know exactly what she wants, but she hasn't quite asked for it directly. You decide to tease her. "Yeah. I guess he's asked a bit recently."

"Oh, really?" She leans forward again, her lips just inches away from yours. "Like what?"

"About, uh, some stuff," you answer vaguely. You can't tell her exactly, you want to hear her ask it.

"Maybe I could help. Maybe we can talk about it and figure it out together." Her hand's moving up from yours and now she's stroking up your forearm, slowly rubbing it. Her touch feels so good, and her eyes are locked on yours, unblinking, her gaze focused solely on you. She bites her lip a little. "If he asked about something like... I don't know..."

You smile. She knows. And she's playing coy, pretending that she doesn't know what she wants. You can't let that stand. You can't let her get away with it. "Spit it out."

"Maybe..." Her eyes glance to the side. "...who to choose for valedictorian?"

It's about time she asks. "And what do you think?" you ask, a sly grin creeping up on you. "You got a suggestion?"

Yuna blushes a little and lets out a giggle. "Me."

"You?"

"Yeah. I think I'd be the best fit. Don't you?" She bats her eyelashes. "My scores are the best—

"—Joint best."

"And my extra-curricular; I have the most—"

"—Joint most."

"And I'm the president, captain, leader of—"

"—Joint leader, captain and president."

"Are you just gonna keep doing that?" Yuna pouts.

"Doing what?"

"Joint," she says, imitating you, her voice lowering. "Joint. Joint. Joint. I mean, yeah, I get it. But you can't say that Heejin is really better than me, is she?"

You shrug.

"Is she? I don't think she is. I know her grades are as good as mine, but she doesn't put in as much work as me. I've been putting my blood, sweat and tears into all these clubs, all the things I'm in. She's just... doing things because she has nothing better to do. I'm actually trying, I'm working so hard, and I know that's worth something." She gives you a look that's somehow innocent and imploring, while simultaneously persuasive. "I deserve to be valedictorian."

You're not going to argue with her, she does deserve it. They both do.

Yuna keeps going, "You can help me, you know. We're friends. I've always been nice to you, haven't I? Do this for me and I'll owe you. Big time. I mean it. I will be very, very, grateful."

She trying so desperately to entice you, and she's doing her very best. The way her eyes twinkle and flutter as she speaks to you. The way her voice goes a little high-pitched and squeaky, the way she pouts her lips and widens her eyes. She leans so far over the table that she hits her drink and sends it tumbling. The glass shatters as it hits the floor and the two of you flinch from the sound.

"Oh my god!" Yuna gasps. "I'm so sorry, oh my god!" She jumps off her chair. The staff are quickly making their way over, and Yuna immediately apologises to them, a look of utter embarrassment on her face. "I'm sorry, it was an accident!"

The staff wave it off and start to clean up. You offer to help, but they refuse, so instead, you think it best to pay and call an end to dinner.

"That's so embarrassing, oh my god," Yuna groans. She covers her face with her hands and shakes her head. "I'm such an idiot, I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it, it was an accident." You smile. The sun has almost set and the sky has turned a dusky orange and purple. The cool breeze in the evening air is pleasant and relaxing. You let out a sigh. You feel refreshed, and there's something to appreciate about the quiet. But the night's coming in, and you know you have to go back. "I'll walk you home," you offer.

Yuna smiles at you gratefully, and the two of you make the trip together.

-

The lady's dorms aren't far from your own. You're about to leave and head home when Yuna suddenly grabs you by the wrist. "Wait, don't go yet."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just want to give you something before you go."

"Like what?" you ask. "I already owe you dinner, so..."

"No, no, don't worry about that. This is something different." Yuna steps close to you and wraps her arms around you. You tense up, unsure, but you let her embrace you, her arms around your waist and her hands against your back. "A hug."

"A hug?"

"Yup. A big hug." Yuna rests her chin against your chest, looking up at you. Her eyes are twinkling and her smile is sweet. She squeezes you tighter and leans into you. "For being a good friend. For listening to me talk about all the stupid things in my life. For coming out to dinner with me." Her hand rubs against your back. "And for being so nice."

"Um..." You're a little taken aback by this sudden act of kindness. You wrap your arms around her, too, hugging her back. You're not quite sure if this is a bit much. Yuna can be friendly, but this feels a little excessive, even for her. She's holding onto you, her body pressed up against yours, and it's making you a little uncomfortable. "Thanks. That's, uh, really nice. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Yuna murmurs and her voice is low and soft, her eyes staring right at yours, unblinking. Her body is so soft against yours, her skin feels smooth and warm, and her embrace feels like it's melting into your own. You can't help but notice her body, her curves, the way her hips and chest seem to press into you. It feels like she's trying to make you notice. "So... do you think you'll help me?"

"Help you?" you ask.

"About... y'know..." Yuna tilts her head a little and leans back to look up at you, but her hands stay firmly planted on your back. She smiles playfully. "The valedictorian thing?"

"I, um, I haven't really—"

"—thought about it? Yeah. Okay." She pouts. "Do you need more time?"

"Maybe," you admit. "I haven't really been—"

"—been thinking about it. I know." Yuna steps back and lets you go. She smiles at you again, but this time, it seems a bit more... sultry? Seductive? "Okay, fine. But you'll have my eternal gratitude if you help me, I swear."

She turns and skips into her building, and you stand there for a second, watching as the doors close behind her. Then, you turn and start walking back to your dorm. It's dark out and you have a long walk, so you decide to take the scenic route. You pass by the school fields, past the baseball and soccer grounds, and then you pass the gym and pool buildings. Finally, you cross the courtyard, heading for your dorm.

You're about halfway across when you notice a figure on the benches. The same figure as earlier.

"Aren't you cold?" you call out, walking up to Heejin. She's still in her uniform, but she doesn't seem to be wearing anything to protect her from the night chill. She's still sitting there, legs crossed and head resting on one hand.

She looks up at you as you approach. "A little, yeah."

"Why are you out here?"

"Why not?" She shrugs. "It's nice. Peaceful."

You can't argue with that. You look up at the night sky and take a deep breath, letting the cool air fill your lungs. The silence is nice. It feels like the world has stopped, the universe has paused to give you a moment of quiet. "You can still enjoy it while wearing a jacket, maybe a hoodie. Switch out that skirt for some sweats."

Heejin smiles. "You sound like my dad."

"I didn't know your dad was such a smart guy."

"He isn't," she jokes. She lets out a soft laugh, and then she looks back up at you. "So why are you out here?"

"Walking home. Passing by."

"Did she take you somewhere nice?" Heejin suddenly asks with a knowing smirk. There's no malice in her voice. If anything, she sounds amused.

"Dinner. Pizza."

"Sounds romantic," she remarks, with the tone of someone who means the exact opposite. "Did it work? Are you persuaded?" She leans back on the bench, stretching her arms out and spreading them wide across the back. Her position exposes more of her, the skirt rising higher. You can see the smooth curves of her legs, the muscles that have developed from years of track and dance. They look inviting.

"It was just dinner. We talked. That's all," you explain.

"Just talked," Heejin repeats. She's clearly sceptical. "Just talked," she repeats again, emphasising it.

"Just talked," you reaffirm.

"Sure. Fine," Heejin says with a playful roll of her eyes. She leans forward now, clasping her hands together and settling them between her bare knees. She leering at you, now. Her smirk is suggestive, even seductive. It feels like she's toying with you, almost mocking you. "What did she offer you?"

"Uh, nothing. Just that she would owe me one."

"Yeah, she would owe you one," Heejin drawls, nodding her head patronisingly. "Bet she said it with real suggestive eyes, too, and she touched you, maybe held your arm or something, right? Like, really obviously trying to imply she'll fuck you if you made her valedictorian?"

Your throat runs dry and Heejin just laughs to herself.

"At least I know what I'm up against," Heejin remarks. She stands up, slings her bag over her shoulder, and steps closer to you. She's looking straight at you. Her expression is stern, determined, and serious. Her eyes are narrowed and intense, staring into yours, penetrating through you. "Here's my counter-offer: I'll suck you off, right now. We'll go to your room, you sit down on the bed, take off your pants, I'll drop to my knees and blow you."

Holy shit, Heejin's really serious. She doesn't blink, her gaze remains focused on you.

"Then you pick me. You make me valedictorian."

You're silent. Speechless. There's no subtlety, no suggestion, no implication, no hinting. There's a credit to be given for honesty. You can respect the fact that she's not hiding what she wants, or trying to play games or manipulate you. It's refreshingly direct and simple. And yet, it's Heejin. The girl who quietly sits in class and aces every test. Who beats everyone's times in track. Who performs in competitions as a hobby. Everyone admires her. Everyone wants to be her friend. To have her say that, to offer that...

"You're blushing," Heejin says, smirking. She steps even closer, standing on her tip-toes, bringing her mouth closer to your ear, her hot breath hitting you and making you shiver. "Take me to your dorm," she whispers. "I'll make you cum until you can't even think anymore."

There's not an ounce of shame in her. Not the slightest hint of guilt. She's absolutely certain that she's in control and that you're weak and malleable, willing to succumb to her. She's got no doubt in her mind that she's completely dominating you, that she's utterly in charge.

-

Yuna throws herself onto her bed, feeling incredibly pleased with herself. Step one is complete. She picked out a cute outfit that looked innocent, but still enticing. She chose a restaurant that had a casual atmosphere, but still allowed them to sit and talk comfortably. She held his hand, she stared deeply into his eyes, she smiled at him and laughed at all his stupid jokes. And yes, it was embarrassing when she accidentally spilt her drink, but it worked out! He walked her home and gave her a hug, which was perfect. A perfect opportunity to tempt him with her body, and show off her curves. A preview of what he can have if he obeys. If he bends to her will.

Ryujin is listening to all the details of how Yuna thinks she has you wrapped around her little finger. Ryujin can't help but shake her head at her friend's naivety. Sure, maybe she got a few moments where she could entice you, but Ryujin knows you can't be won over by cheap tricks and flirtatious looks. What you need is someone more bold. Someone bolder, someone who will make the first move, and then take charge.

"...and then we hugged, and he was totally into me, I felt his heart beat faster, he was sooo excited," Yuna enthusiastically tells Ryujin. "And then he was just staring at me as I walked up the steps. He was, like, ogling my legs."

"Wow," Ryujin answers, with little enthusiasm. "Did he agree to make you valedictorian?"

"Kinda," Yuna answers. "Well, no. But he will. Trust me."

"You think that's enough? Empty promises and some light flirting?" Ryujin shakes her head and lets out a dismissive laugh. "Bare minimum."

"What? Do you want me to just ask him outright if he wants to bang? That's not how people work, they aren't direct like that," Yuna protests.

"You think Heejin is just gonna do the same? You think Heejin's gonna hold his hand and giggle at his shitty puns?"

"Yes," Yuna insists.

"Nope," Ryujin immediately corrects. "If she finds out that you took him out to dinner and tried to flirt with him, she's going to do something about it."

"Like what?"

"She's going to beat you. She's going to be bold, brash, and blunt, and she's going to seduce him so hard he doesn't have a choice," Ryujin confidently replies.

Yuna scoffs. "Yeah, right. Heejin's gonna seduce him? Please." She rolls her eyes and waves a dismissive hand. "She's pretty but there's no way she's going to throw herself at him."

Even as Yuna says it, the doubt creeps into her mind. Heejin did have her hand on your lap. And her legs... she wasn't exactly covering much. What if she takes it a step further? That uncertainty turns into something else, and Yuna starts to feel a little paranoid. "Oh my god," she says, a frown on her face, sitting up as if she's suddenly had a revelation. "So, hypothetically, maybe, just maybe, she somehow finds out that I went to dinner with him. Maybe, hypothetically, she decides to act, like, bold and seduce him."

Ryujin gives a long sigh and shakes her head. "That's exactly what she's gonna do. There's only one person on earth who cares about accolades as much as you, and that's Heejin. She's going to get what she wants, and that's graduation as valedictorian, even if she has to give up her dignity to do it." Ryujin tilts her head and adds, as if it were obvious, "You should be in his room right now."

"Fuck."

-

Yuna left the dorm immediately, and she is walking that same route you did just ten minutes earlier, her entire body charged with a sense of urgency, her heart pumping with nerves. She's trying to stay calm, but there's no way to not admit that this is, potentially, bad. Very bad.

The anxiety gnaws at her, and as she rushes through the darkness, she starts to wonder what Heejin might be doing right now, what she might say to him, and the kind of persuasion she might use. She doesn't trust Ryujin's words, no, but they keep echoing in her head.

'She's going to be bold, and brash, and blunt, and she's going to seduce him so hard he won't have a choice.'

The thought strikes her, the terrible feeling of just not knowing what's going on in your room. Yuna wants to bash down your door, throw herself in, and see for herself. It's driving her a little crazy.

Yuna takes a moment to process what this could mean for her, what could possibly be going on behind the walls, in the building ahead of her. She can't just walk in alone, no, it's the men's dorm. But... she overheard it once. A few guys were jealous that you had the solo dorm, the big room on the bottom floor at the end of the building. So she could probably work out which window is yours. Then, well, one look inside to see you relaxing, hopefully, alone...

Yuna steps off the path and begins to round the building. It's dark and quiet out, but that just makes her feel like it's even more indecent and dirty that she's finding excuses to spy on you. There are no lights on in the rooms above, it looks like everyone else in the building is either asleep or has gone out for the night. Your window, though, your room... there's definitely a light on.

She draws close, and when she rounds the corner, she peeks up. There's you, just standing in the room. Just the sight of you alone gives her relief.

Until the peeks a little further. Her eyes go wide and her breath catches in her throat.

It's Heejin.

She's on her knees, still wearing her uniform, but with the top few buttons popped, and her hair tied up in a ponytail. You're looking down at her, eyes fixed on hers. One hand's in her hair, your fingers running through it, stroking her hair. You look so pleased, so satisfied. So relaxed and comfortable.

Heejin's hands are on your hips, and Yuna notices her long, elegant fingers pressing into you. She looks so confident, so smug. So in control. So in charge. Yuna can feel the rage inside.

How could this be possible? This can't be happening. There's no way. There's no way.

Heejin grabs your hip and drags you closer, her other hand sliding up under your shirt. Her nails lightly scrape against your skin. She smiles when you flinch, and the expression on your face shows you're enjoying yourself.

Under her breath, Yuna mutters, "No fucking way. She's..."

She's sucking your cock.

Yuna stares. She stares and she can't stop. She can't tear her eyes away from the sight of Heejin, her lips around your length, taking you deep into her mouth. You're looking down at her, playing with her hair. The look of bliss on your face is impossible to ignore.

Heejin's skilled, Yuna realises with a growing sense of horror. She knows her way around it, with her lips circling the tip, tongue swirling and coating you in saliva, and her lips then easing your length further inside her. It's so fluid and smooth, and she's only using her mouth. How good must it feel?

She can imagine it. The hot, moist mouth on you, the soft, wet insides, the pressure of a mouth wrapping around you. The hum of approval as she continues to tease and play. The slurping and slobbering sounds. How it would look like her taking you deeper and deeper, her forehead touching the base, and how her throat would tighten around you.

Yuna feels her body ache. She's watching her position as valedictorian be sucked away down Heejin's throat. The girl whose a joint first, the same as her, is all but sealing her own victory with your climax. Her eyes are wide, staring at the scene in front of her, her fingers dug into the palm of her hand. This is absurd, impossible, unbelievable.

Heejin can't win like this. There's no way Heejin's better than her. Is she?

There's only one way she can stop it.

-

Heejin's sucking your brains out through your dick, making your spine tingle and your breath come in jagged and short gasps. It's nothing but pleasure for you. There are no thoughts, no conscious mind, just the sensation in your core.

Her mouth slides up and down, dragging up your shaft, her tongue sliding along it, licking and tasting the salty mixture of precum and spit. She draws her lips up your head, right to the tip, where she teases you with her tongue before plunging you back into the depths of her throat.

God, it feels amazing, every second of it. You can hear her gagging, choking, the sounds are so vivid and raw that you can't help but groan, tightening your grasp of her ponytail, just like she asked you to. She likes it. You can tell she likes it by the way she inhales every time you pull her close and shove yourself into her. Her nails dig into your ass, dragging you closer to her as you press up against the back of her throat, and she's showing no sign of relenting.

This can't last, though. This kind of sensation, the ecstasy and passion and tension, has a breaking point, and you know your orgasm is coming. Heejin does too, because her pace starts picking up, and her head bobs faster up and down your shaft, her throat choking on your head, her mouth so tight and warm around you.

You fight it, the urge, the need to finish. You want this to last forever, you want it to keep going, the feeling of her lips, her throat, the sloppy noises of her sucking you dry. But the orgasm is inevitable. Your hands instinctively drag her to you, and you can feel the tremble in your hips, the buildup in your balls and the tightness in your pelvis.

But it's all fucking ruined. A bang on the door.

"What the fuck is that?" Heejin asks, pulling you from her mouth with a sloppy 'pop'.

The bang on the door happens again, more frantic this time.

"The fuck do they think they're—" Heejin groans in frustration. She wipes the cum and spit from her lips and chin with the back of her arm. "You have to tell whoever that is to fuck off."

"I, uh, yeah." You pull up your boxers, leaving your trousers open, you prepare to peek your head around the door and let the asshole who's ruining the moment know to get lost. You pull it open to just a crack, enough to bark out a bunch of curses, but you're taken aback by what you see:

Yuna.

"Yuna?" You blink a few times, trying to make sure it's not some delusion. "Wh-what are you doing here?"

"I— uh," Yuna stutters, looking a bit uncomfortable. She takes a deep breath, composes herself, and looks you directly in the eye. "Can I come in? I need to talk to you."

"Um, now's not a really good time." You glance over your shoulder, and you see Heejin perched on the edge of your bed. Her legs are crossed and her skirt is so far up her leg it's revealing the entirety of one thigh and just a little of her ass. She has her school shirt pulled a bit too low, giving an even better glimpse of her cleavage.

"It won't take a minute," Yuna quickly says. She tries to give you an imploring, and a pleading, look. "Please? I have an offer for you."

"Okay, um." You glance over your shoulder again. Heejin raises her eyebrows, looking amused. You bite your lip.

Yuna is staring at you with as much focus and persistence as she can muster. "I promise my offer is better than hers."

How the fuck do these girls seem to know everything? "Yuna—"

"I know she's in there, don't play dumb."

There's no denying it now, she knows.

"What the fuck are you doing in his room?" Yuna calls out to Heejin.

"Thought that was obvious," Heejin replies from behind you.

"You're—"

"Doing exactly what you wanted to do!" Heejin calls out to interrupt her.

Yuna goes quiet for a second, and then she holds out her hands. "Let me in."

"Yuna, listen, we're kinda in the middle of something," you protest.

"You were. You aren't anymore. I came along and now you have an offer to listen to, right? So let me in." Yuna is insistent. "Now."

You sigh and take a step back to let her pass.

She wastes no time. She walks right past you and into your room, heads straight for Heejin, and glares down at her. "So, is this how you planned to win? Sucking him off? A blowjob? Really?"

Heejin smirks and doesn't seem ashamed. If anything, it almost seems like a challenge.

"Okay. Whatever," Yuna goes on. "We're here now. We're all three together. And—" She turns her head and looks right at you. "—you're choosing one of us. Right here, right now." Yuna drops to her knees, her dark eyes locked onto yours as she pleads through them. She unbuttons her shirt completely and lets it fall off her arms. Underneath is a lingerie bra that holds her full breasts, its fabric thin and mostly see-through. "I'm better than her," she pleads.

There's no shame, no embarrassment. She's offering up her body in the name of competition. Her confidence has outpaced her modesty, and she doesn't care. Her body is on display, and she's daring you to look.

"Not really convincing enough," Heejin says dryly, leaning back, with one eyebrow raised.

You're still reeling—utterly astonished by this whole situation—by how absurd it's become. Everything is escalating so quickly, and your mind can barely keep up. These two beauties are squaring off against each other, a contest of sex to see who gets the status they crave. They both want the valedictorian position. Both students with the best grades and perfect attendance managed to find time to lead school societies and run after-school clubs.

Now, they've come to you for the deciding vote. They are both offering up their bodies, their most valuable assets, to earn it. A bit silly. A strange plan.

There's this mixture of amusement and disgust on Heejin's face as she looks over Yuna. This sort of derisive curl of her lip, combined with a half-hearted roll of her eyes. "Wasn't sure you had it in you, to be honest." She lays back against the bed, adjusting her skirt, letting the hem rise even higher on her legs. "Don't get me wrong, I always had you pegged as a bit of a slut."

Yuna just about manages not to show her outrage. "Yeah? You're the whore spreading her legs."

Heejin gives a small laugh, and again she shrugs and doesn't seem fazed. It's like she's unbothered by the insult like it's little more than a light breeze against her skin. "Just playing the game. Just like you, right?"

"This is crazy," you announce. "If the principal found out you're both in my room—"

"—this stays between the three of us," Heejin says, standing up.

"Yeah," Yuna echoes. She's still on her knees, the straps of her lingerie hanging from her shoulders, the shirt thrown on the floor, her plump breasts bare and exposed. "We don't tell anyone what happens here."

"Fuck," you breathe out. "You're serious."

Both girls nod.

They both want it, and they're prepared to do anything to get it. This rivalry is such a natural part of who they are, and who they've always been. How neither was able to stop the other or to find a better way to resolve things, is all connected back to what they must think is inevitable about themselves. They aren't friends, the two of them. Heejin and Yuna, they also aren't simply just competitors—rivals—those words don't go far enough, to explain their relationship. It's one of such dedication and passion, such pride and achievement, that to have someone matching every accomplishment, every grade, every victory, must drive them mad.

You remember watching a nature program once, something about wildlife, some documentary explaining how two aspiring leaders of a pride ended up locked in a rivalry. Though you can't quite remember all the details, something about a rift forming and how things had spiralled out of control between them. If only there was a way for them to live in harmony, some animal expert would have said at the end of the show, sadly shaking his head.

You look at the two of them. Harmony is a million miles away.

Yuna takes you by the hand, pulling your fingers and inviting you to touch her. Her hands guide yours, moving them over the curve of her breasts, and her soft, warm, skin. Her chest rises and falls steadily under your palm, and you caress her, touch her, cup her. You move one hand up, running over the length of her neck, up her jaw, to her cheeks and her ears. You brush her hair out of the way with your thumb, and she shifts forward. Her dark eyes are staring up at you, and you feel a shock run through your body.

"I swear I'm so much better than her," Yuna promises, in the quietest voice you've ever heard. It's soft, but there's also an intensity to it, a persistence like a raindrop hitting stone. "Trust me."

Pursed lips near the tip of your cock. Yuna's warm breath kisses the tip. She moves her tongue up, licking across your head. She's different to Heejin, more tentative, slower, and focused entirely on the feeling. Her touch is more gentle, less ferocious and domineering. When she takes you into her mouth, you can feel the sensation of her carefully tracing your length with the tip of her tongue, coiling you up inside, making you tingle, sparks coursing through your spine.

Yuna is watching you closely, her gaze not straying from your face for one second, as if she's so eager to see your reactions to her touch. Her gaze is focused, and intense, and she appears satisfied with how you're enjoying yourself. It feels incredible. Something about the eye contact, her attentive and focused style, and the way her lips glide up and down with pure reverence, is driving you crazy.

Heejin is behind you, trying to draw your attention. One of her arms wraps around your torso, her hand stroking across your front, exploring and exploring, her fingernails dragging over you in teasing lines. The heat of her breath hits your ear, hot enough to make you shiver, and you suddenly feel her bite your lobe. She knows where to attack, and she starts raining kisses along the side of your neck. Small nips and nibbles. Up to your jaw, tracing lines of heat along your skin. On your ear, her soft, red lips, suckling, her teeth leave little marks. When she sees your eyes are still on Yuna, a throaty, husky, disapproving purr in your ear. "Oh no you don't. Pay attention to me."

Her slender fingers tug at your jaw, turning you towards her. Kisses rain down on your mouth, not satisfied until her lips are plastered across yours. She strokes the tip of her tongue across your own, inviting you to taste, to explore. Her kiss makes you quiver inside, almost melting you, making every part of you tremble and weaken.

But it's when Yuna caresses you further, her hands finding your ass and grabbing tight, dragging your cock deep into her throat. The sound that erupts from you only spurs her on further.

You hear Heejin murmur quietly into your ear while running her hand through your hair, "Enjoying this?"

You swallow, taking a moment to compose yourself. You open your mouth to speak, only for your tongue to trip over an answer.

"I'm sure she's great and all," Heejin continues, "but you want the best, right?" She plants another kiss on your mouth, giving you a tempting taste, and keeping you close. "You must miss how much better I am."

Yuna's efforts begin to escalate, hearing the conversation continue. Determination has been written over her face. Now, however, her eyes dart up to glare at her competitor. It's cute, seeing how hard she's trying.

Heejin slips one of her hands under Yuna's cheek, her nails scratching lightly, scraping down her chin. She hooks them underneath and guides the girl's head, forcing Yuna's movement to stop. You can feel the subtle vibrations of Yuna letting out an annoyed groan.

"I bet you're not even close, are you? You can't cum from this, right?" Heejin's voice is soft and saccharine, dripping with mock sincerity.

"You're trying to piss her off," you point out.

"Good," Heejin drawls. "Does it piss her off, knowing that it's me who can finish the job?"

A frustrated Yuna ducks her head free from Heejin and takes you back into her mouth, starting anew, trying to prove something to someone. She's different now, you notice. Feistier, and more insistent. No more gentle, careful movements. She's moved on from worship, now charging through to ravish. She takes you hard, quickly, and thoroughly. There is an unrelenting pace to her. No patience, no playing, just the relentless need to do. She pulls and pushes, pressing and sucking, burying her nose at the base.

You wince at the heat, the slickness, how her tongue now massages you as her lips firmly embrace you. She's gripping hard at your ass, driving you onto her tongue. The warmth of her breath against your flesh is impossible to ignore. Hot breaths, soft and humid, leave goosebumps on your skin.

This new attitude has gotten the better of you. You can't help but give in. Threads of pleasure entwine up the length of your spine, each sharp twist of Yuna's mouth drawing the sweetest song out of you. Heejin has stolen your voice as a chorus is crawling up your throat, and you can barely hope to keep it down.

There's no stopping you, the finish is inevitable. You move to pull out, to stop yourself, yet Yuna swallows around you in response, taking you deeper into her waiting throat. Not a hint of an intention to let go. No, Yuna refuses to stop until you've emptied every single drop inside.

Heejin still won't relent, either. She kisses a constellation on your shoulder, up the side of your neck, her sweet caresses are lingering, teasing your flesh, dancing fingertips that burn in the best way. It doesn't do anything to soothe the tension inside.

You fill her mouth, flooding her with thick ropes. You can't imagine what it might feel like, all that hot fluid sliding down into her stomach. Once, then twice, then a third time, you spill inside, shuddering and groaning in release.

Yuna drags a heavy breath. It's not even over, as she's already trying to take you deeper. "Mm," Yuna moans, her voice trembling. She nuzzles forward, eagerly coaxing what's left, accepting the remaining throbs against her tongue, swallowing when she has to. You shiver at how she seems so hungry for every drop, her strength only seems to grow the more she drinks. She finally lets you out of her mouth with a pop and flashes a grin.

"So nice of her to finish what I started," Heejin quips and Yuna glares at her. "After I did all the work."

"Maybe you should've finished the job instead of talking shit," Yuna throws back.

Heejin tilts her head a little. "I have much better ideas. Want to see?" She smirks.

Heejin sits on the edge of your desk, reaching out to take your hand. She presses your palm to her chest, just above her breast, her uniform top exposing a tantalizing window of skin.

You look at her. Her eyes. The shape of her face, the sharp lines of her jaw, the elegant arch of her brows, the curve of her nose. The pretty rosy tint in her cheeks. Then her mouth. Her bitten lips, the long neck, the exposed part of her chest. Heejin knows how to pull you in.

Your mind is blank, just fixated on her, how gorgeous she looks. She's pulling open her shirt, unbuttoning it, unhooking her bra. She's undressing, putting herself on display, only for you. It's entrancing.

Her body is perfect, lean and toned, the sculpted muscle and firm curves making her look like a piece of art. Beautiful. Then her legs, perfect thighs, the muscles not too built, but trim and taut, soft to the touch.

She bunches her skirt at her waist, exposing her panties, those small scraps of silken fabric, almost see-through, the threads clinging to the contours of her hips and the mound between her legs. Heejin draws her hand there, exploring the smooth cloth, the delicate lingerie highlighting the body underneath.

She slips her thumb below the edge of the fabric, her fingers following, before she peels them down her legs, shuffling them past her thighs and her knees and kicking them off her feet. Her bare skin is tantalizing, her body like a vision of unknown riches. "Do you like what you see?" she asks, her voice pure silk.

"What the fuck?" It's Yuna's exclamation, and the shock inside it, which makes you tear your gaze away. She is sitting on the floor, in her dishevelled uniform, pieces of clothing half-unbuttoned and hanging off her. "Is there a limit? How far are you going to go?"

"I told you, I have ideas," Heejin emphasises the plurality. She's completely unabashed, and without hesitation, she pulls you by the scruff of your shirt, towards her. A handful of you, drawing you between her legs, and then laying her lips on your skin. Traces of kisses on your chest, the brush of her tongue, her lips, her teeth. Words spoken against your body with hot breath, "Don't mind her. Enjoy me, instead."

It's like being drawn into the ocean. Heejin is pulling you in. Her serenity becomes calming and comforting, and there's no way to escape the feeling. She locks her legs around your hips, her hands grasping and caressing you. Nails digging into your skin and trailing along it. Each pull and tug on you is possessive. You run your hands over her skin. Soft thigh, plump breast, toned waist. Each part is addictive, and you can't decide which to take. You caress her face, running your hand over her cheek, letting her dark eyes shine with affection as she smiles, lifting her head to steal a kiss.

Yuna, the frustrated voyeur, can only watch as you grind yourself against Heejin, rubbing yourself along the sodden line between her legs. With each pass, her fluids cover the tip, smearing them and soaking the end. Each roll gets harder to fight, your instincts telling you to rush the heat into something more.

"There we go," Heejin murmurs. "No need to rush. Take your time. Enjoy me," she insists, encouraging you, "and I can show you just how much I can please you."

Tender. Gentle. This isn't some quick fuck, this is Heejin spoiling you. Worship, desire, lust. Each glance into her eyes sends a bolt of thrill into your gut, and your length continues to swell. Your mind becomes more and more intoxicated with each fresh coat, your cock aching, slowly and frustratingly sinking into her. You hold her thighs, lift them, and drag her closer. She squeaks with your grip, her body shuddering with one steady breath. "Mm, yes," she groans.

"Take me," she begs, and it's a plea that you simply cannot resist. A shuddering sigh of her pleasure at last releases, her head tilting back in an agonising cry. You slide as deep as you can go. No. Deeper. Your pace is agonising. Too slow. Far, far too slow. You grind into her, taking every chance to relish how her body clenches around you.

You know why she's doing this. Why she wants you to focus on her and forget about the other girl in the room. Why she wants to convince you, with every stroke of your cock inside, that she's the one who deserves it most. Yuna might have made you climax, but Heejin? Heejin has you mesmerised. Every twitch of her inner walls against you feels exquisite. Addictive. You want nothing more than to plunge into her again and again, desperate to take it all, all the wet, wonderful friction. Your grip on her hips tightens, holding her close as your bodies collide.

Yuna lets out a sound of frustration and disappointment. Her lips hang parted, unable to believe what she's seeing, gazing on as you are slowly overtaken. The two of you panting. Squeaking gasps from Heejin. Your own groans and grunts. Yuna mutters something, glaring daggers into the pair of you, though her words don't fully register in your mind.

"Mmm..." Heejin breathes, and with another squeeze, she guides your hands up to her chest. You massage her breasts, tracing shapes around her nipples. Your fingers trail and play and press, cupping and squeezing and massaging. Heejin melts into you, gasping for air, her body tingling. She moans a long, languid sigh of bliss, then bites down on her bottom lip.

The motions are so languid, every instant stretching out forever. Heejin's petite body feels so tender beneath you, so pliable. Like it was designed to be adored. Your every thrust is answered by hers, your bodies coming together as one.

When Heejin's fingernails dig into your shoulder blades, urging you closer, you grab her face. You tilt it upward, toward you. Her dark brown eyes meet yours.

Then her body shivers, quakes, stiffens, and spasms. The tight, squeezing depths within her constrict, compressing you. She holds onto you even harder than before. Her teeth bite down on her lip. A yelp turns into a whimper, which turns into a silent cry until all the sensations inside seem to boil over. She writhes in orgasm, her body racked by waves of euphoria, unable to control her reaction. She clings tightly, and the waves of ecstasy ripple outwards, travelling throughout her entire frame. Even her voice is distorted. Her breath catches and she quivers, gasping loudly. She struggles, her grip on you tightening, her body twisting and contorting as she shakes violently.

And you would be excused for thinking that would be it. That her delicate little body could take no more.

But you would be wrong.

She's snaking her fingers into your hair, drawing you to her as she falls flat against the desk. You're over her now. You're fucking her, down against the wood of the desk, nails digging into her thighs. She writhes and whines beneath you, her pants unashamed and delightfully arousing, her red face begging for more.

She's beautiful. All long limbs, dark eyes, soft skin, the supple flesh yielding under your rough treatment.

"Give me everything you've got," she taunts, and she's about to say more, it's on the tip of her tongue, but when you hook her leg and pull it over your shoulder, it cuts off her next retort, and suddenly the only sounds in the room are those of pleasure.

Faster, harder. Heejin has shown off enough, flaunting the kind of sexual prowess you never expected from the quiet girl who always sat at the front of the class.

Then again, it's always the quiet ones...

Yuna's still here. Watching. Enthralled, but also furious. Her hands clutch her skirt, balling the fabric in her fists. She wants to march over to the two of you and kick Heejin aside. She wants to scream her frustrations and push the interloper out of the way. And she wants you to fuck her the same way you did Heejin, so you can compare and find her superior.

Her fists clench to leave bloody crescents in her palm, teeth grit hard and grind. It's not jealousy, Yuna would deny it. She's never been jealous of anything Heejin does or has, because Yuna's always had what she needs and then some. Except tonight.

"Fuck you both!" She declares, indignant, but the pair of you pay her no heed.

And that only infuriates Yuna more.

"I'll report the two of you. This is fucked up!"

Even as you pound her, Heejin has just enough presence to dismiss her with a laugh inter-laden into her moans. "Report yourself for sucking him off, too."

There's nothing else she can say, no barbed insults or derisive statements she can fling at either of you. So she grabs her shirt off the floor and leaves in a huff. The sound of the slamming door rings through the room, like the period to a sentence.

It just allows you and Heejin to go even harder.

Soon the world closes in around you. Only the thumping desk remains, only the frantic rhythm of your bodies pounding against each other, only her tiny moans, muffled into the crease of her elbow, only her clenching pussy as she convulses, trembling. Her tight, warm walls flutter as they enclose your cock, milking every inch, rippling in rhythmic spasms.

You need a moment. To take a breath, gather your thoughts. You're nearly spent, so you change your tact.

You pull her from the desk and turn her to its edge. "I like the way you think," she coos, then sprawls herself against it. Her chest pressed against the wood. Her cute little ass presented in all its glory, begging for attention. It fits into your palms like perfection. Each soft cheek moulds itself to you, filling up your grip perfectly. She squirms a bit, enticingly, pushing her hips backwards against you as if she's afraid you might lose interest.

You enter her once more.

A squeak leaves her lips. It's so adorable. Cute. But also hot as fuck.

Tight body, tight cunt. A tiny little thing, yet somehow able to withstand your assault. Her slender frame jolts with the impact of each thrust.

You slap against her flesh, sending ripples through her skin. Her cute butt. The arch of her back. You grab her there, at the waist—that slutty little waist—and hold onto her tightly while you sink inside. Over and over. Relentless.

She twists, her nails dragging across the desk's surface, scrambling for purchase. Her eyes roll back and her legs buckle, a hoarse wail breaking from her throat. She looks like she's possessed, her features drawn into an ecstatic rictus. She cries out as the sensations overwhelm her. You can feel it happening. Since her unravelling.

"Yes, fuck," Heejin sputters. "Give me what I want."

And you don't know exactly what she means by that. Is it your cock or is it the title, but who are you to complain?

Then it comes, rushing at you like a tidal wave. You fall down on top of her, her delicate body straining underneath you. "Cum," she whimpers.

So you pin her there, under you, and empty yourself inside her. Your whole body sings, shaking uncontrollably as you unload.

"How was it?" Heejin giggles. "To fuck the future valedictorian?" Asked with the confidence that it was a foregone conclusion.

-

Decision day comes. It's been two days since you finished inside Heejin as a form of agreement, and two days since you last spoke to Yuna. It's all hostile stares and annoyed mutterings.

You feel bad. The fact that this whole thing devolved into some sordid exchange of sexual favours really gnaws at you. It doesn't sit well. You knew Yuna liked you, she never kept it a secret. In fact, it's cute that she was trying so hard to impress you. It all felt a little earnest, compared to Heejin's ruthless manner.

You've woken this morning with a conclusion that is quite frankly the easy way out. Yuna hasn't tried to argue it, she just keeps her scowl and glares from afar, like you're the antichrist. Meanwhile, Heejin gives a satisfied smile whenever you look her way.

At least this madness will end. You'll see your father today, give him the decision, and forget all of this, or try your hardest to.

First, you need to get out of bed, though, throw off these duvet covers and stand. Stretching gives some relief to the back, and it perks you up. A shower, breakfast, and some coffee—the standard routine. After that, it's clean clothes and a walk to the office.

That's how it should be, anyway.

You're still in only your underwear when there's a knock on your door.

"Give me a minute! Hang on," you call.

The doorknob rattles but doesn't open. Then there's the hammering of a palm against the wood. Impatient. Persistent. Another rattle of the doorknob.

You concede. Wearing nothing more than your underwear, you poke your head around the door and peek out of the opening.

There, arms folded, impatient foot tapping the floor, is Yuna. "I need to talk to you," she says, brow furrowed and serious.

"What's—"

Yuna tries to push the door but your body is blocking it.

"Yuna, I need a minute to—"

"—we need to talk." Her tone is urgent and agitated. She's not angry, exactly.

You relent. This sounds important. Maybe you've misjudged things. "Okay, okay, come in."

"Finally," she sighs, stepping past you and heading straight for the chair by the desk.

As you shut the door, she turns her gaze onto you. The intensity of her eyes, the depth, like swirling galaxies within a cloudless night sky.

"Yuna... I didn't think you wanted to see me, not after everything that happened."

"Yeah, I've thought a lot about that actually," she tells you. Her eyes don't leave you, roaming across your body. "We both wanted the same thing, but Heejin got there first. Today's the day, isn't it? Decision day. Your dad's going to want an answer." She's wearing her uniform again, freshly pressed, the white blouse starched and stiff, the skirt just skimming her knees.

"I was going to head over soon, actually."

"So it's not too late?"

"Too late for?"

"One final twist." Yuna reaches up to loosen the tie of her blouse. One by one, she starts working her way through the buttons, popping each one through the buttonholes. "How about we revisit the competition?"

"You can't be serious?" You ask, but you watch as she slips the shirt off her arms. Then she's reaching to undo the catch of her bra—soft blue lace cupping her full breasts. She peels the cups down and flicks the bra aside, revealing her perfect chest.

"I'm deadly serious." Yuna stands.

The arousal rises in you quickly, and you can feel yourself getting hard. There's no hiding it, and Yuna notices immediately, a smirk breaking across her pretty face. Yuna takes the opportunity, steps closer, and plants a palm against your abdomen. She trails her fingers down to trace the outline of your cock against your boxers, the thin material not hiding anything. A small laugh.

"There we go, now you're paying attention." She wraps her fingers around you through the material. It's electrifying, having her touch you like this. Her hands are small and delicate, but her grip is firm. She moves her palm up and down, stroking you gently and enticing you.

Your breath catches in your throat, the tension growing as she plays with your dick. "Yuna..." you manage, your heart pounding, your palms clammy.

"Do you like that?" she teases, her thumb brushing across the tip of your head through the cloth.

All you can do is nod, your mind hazy with lust, your legs weak. She grins, a predatory twinkle in her eye. She moves forward, pushing you backwards onto the bed, your legs buckling under the surprise assault. You land flat on your back, and Yuna looks down at you.

"Can I be honest with you?" she asks as she pushes her fingers into the waistband of her skirt. She slips it down, revealing her matching blue panties.

"Yeah?" you reply, unable to keep your gaze off her body.

"I've always kinda had a thing for you," she admits, "and it's kind of annoying that it takes some stupid shit like this for me to say something. But I've also kinda hated that Heejin got a hold of you, like, in a weird way, she won because she was braver than me."

"Braver? What does that have to do with—"

"—she wasn't scared to let you fuck her," Yuna interrupts. She steps forward until she's standing above you. "Guess what?" Her question is rhetorical. She hooks her fingers into her underwear and slips them down her smooth thighs. "It's my turn."

She's beautiful. Flawless skin, toned muscles, and perfect curves. Every detail of her is meticulously crafted, like a sculpture by an old master. It's hard not to stare. Your eyes are fixed on hers as she crawls onto the bed. The mattress dips, and you shuffle up the sheets, unsure where to put yourself as she straddles you.

"Look all you want." Yuna lowers herself down. She places her palms against your chest, pinning you, and lowers down further. You feel a warm heat press itself against your groin. The wetness soaking into the fabric. She begins to slowly grind herself against you, rubbing herself against your erection. "Have I ever told you about my dance classes?" she asks with a smirk, her hips swaying back and forth. She grinds herself against you in a rhythmic, slow, pattern, and the sensation is so intense and pleasurable that you groan. "I'm really good with my hips. Really good."

Yuna keeps going, her body swaying and grinding, and your underwear grows wetter. It's torturously good, the friction from her pussy, the wet heat against your length. It's impressive to watch the way her body rolls, the precision, the control.

Eventually, she slows, smiling slyly. Her fingers trace their way down your abdomen, down your stomach, and hook into the waistband of your boxers. With a slight tug, she pulls them down, freeing your hardness from its confines. She leans forward again, positioning herself above you, ready to descend.

This feels a little unreal. You never expected it to happen, nor did you ever expect her to be this assertive. "Yuna..."

"Relax," she says, lowering herself. She holds you in place. "Honestly, even if you still choose Heejin later, I won't care. I just needed to do this."

Then she lets gravity drop her and there's a sudden pressure around your length, her warmth encasing you, her muscles wrapping around you. Her head tips back slightly and her expression softens as she exhales. The feeling is incredible, and your groans echo hers. The tightness around your cock, the warmth and moistness, and the sight of her perfect naked form on top of you.

Yuna wastes no time, she lifts herself, rolling her hips up, and then slides back down. Her breathing becomes louder, more ragged. You reach out to grab her, your hands instinctively moving to her sides to pull her down into you. She welcomes the grip, biting her lower lip as you pull her into you, her breath coming in quick bursts.

"Does that feel good?" she asks, her voice husky, her body rocking against you.

"It feels amazing," you reply, your hands roaming up to squeeze her breasts.

A soft laugh escapes her as she shifts her weight back and forth, riding you, controlling the rhythm and pace. She's practised and precise like every movement is part of a well-rehearsed routine. "Better than Heejin?" she asks.

"You're incredible," you gasp, grabbing her tighter. The words seem to spur her on further, and she picks up speed. Each movement sends a ripple of pleasure through your body. She's in complete control, dictating the pace, deciding how deep, how hard, and how fast. You've given yourself completely over to her, allowing her to use you as she wants, to ride you however she pleases.

"That's good," she hums, picking up her pace. "I'll do my best for you."

She shifts again, leaning back slightly, changing the angle. She bounces, her breasts swaying with every rise and fall. She has found the perfect spot. "Oh fuck yes!" you hiss, your hands grasping at her thighs and body arching upwards.

"Mmmm," she moans, picking up the tempo. She's riding you now, fast and hard, sweat forming on her brow. "Fuck!" Her curse is rare, strange coming from her mouth, but it's welcome, especially as it's followed by her panting harder.

The room is filled with the sounds of slapping skin and heavy breaths. The air is thick with the scent of sex. You're both sweating, grunting, panting.

As great of a spectacle, as breathtaking a sight, she is, it's a constant struggle. You get so close to bursting into her, only for her to feel it coming, take a moment of pause, slow to a grind and adjust her position again, denying you of an ending. She's teasing you, playing you, keeping you on edge.

You want nothing more than to throw her down, kneel behind her and rail her until you cum deep into her, to hold her tight while you fill her up. Yet, despite how easily you could, how simple it would be to move her and shove her to the bed and do whatever you wanted, you can't do it. Something about watching her is mesmerising, and you can't take your eyes away. You watch her move, how her muscles flex with each rock and roll, how her breasts jiggle and shake with each bounce, how her head tilts back, her eyelids flutter and how her teeth bite on her bottom lip. The sight is far too powerful, far too thrilling, to break away from.

It must be plastered all over your face, the need, because she says, "You can't cum inside, it's not safe, but," and she gives that wicked smile once again, "I have an idea." She drags herself off of you, and then she turns around and bends over, facing away from you, exposing herself, her pussy soaked and glistening. You get the picture.

Then she hits her own ass. An open-palmed slap right across it, making the supple flesh ripple, a red mark stinging bright on her otherwise pale complexion. "Like what you see?" Yuna coos.

"Absolutely," you reply.

She sways her hips side-to-side, a small enticement. "Good." She lowers her hips, settling her cheeks on either side of your cock. Her hand pulls you between them, and as she shakes her ass side to side, Yuna lets out a satisfied chuckle. Then she begins to move, back and forth, sliding you between her cheeks. She grips and squeezes you tightly, using her own ass as a toy.

There's something raw and dirty about it. The way she rubs you with her cheeks, squeezing and pressing you into the cleft between them. Her skin is smooth and silky, her ass perfectly round and perky. It's intoxicating—addictive. Every time she squeezes, you feel that build-up inside you grow hotter. A boiling sensation, searing through your veins. It feels so good, but it's still not enough. You want more.

Yuna knows this isn't enough, and there's only one thing you would wish for her to do next. She pushes her hand between her legs, taking hold of your shaft firmly. Then, slowly, deliberately, she spreads her buttocks with one hand while guiding you between them with the other. The anticipation builds until she finally presses your cockhead against her asshole.

It's tight. Very, very tight. There's some initial resistance as she tries to force herself down onto you, but she's patient. Slow. Inch by inch, she sinks downwards. Soon, the tip of your cock slips into her, causing her to groan in discomfort, biting down on her lip to keep quiet, but she refuses to stop.

You can only watch as she draws your cock into her ass, stretching and adjusting to fit. She gasps, her eyes wide, her expression contorted. She takes a moment to collect herself, before sinking even further, taking more of you into her ass. You marvel at how her tight hole stretches to accommodate you. You've never felt anything like this before; the tightness is unlike any other sensation.

As Yuna continues to sink down, she begins to shudder with pain and discomfort. She's struggling. You place your hand on her ass, rubbing and caressing it, encouraging her. Yuna lets out a long breath, her head hanging down, sweat dripping from her brow. You're barely halfway in but she's rocking her hips and groaning.

"I want you to cum inside," she whispers, her voice hoarse, almost desperate, looking over her shoulder. Her back is arched where her waist narrows, the definition in her muscles more pronounced from the effort.

"You sure?" you ask, gripping her hips tightly.

She nods frantically, her hair falling into her face. Her hands grip the bedsheets tightly. She pushes herself down, finding a rhythm, pushing and pulling. You help, using your grip to guide her, but you're careful not to hurt her. She starts to pick up speed, working herself up and down, taking more and more of you into her with each pass.

It's intense, watching her work, seeing her concentrate so hard. Eventually she relaxes, her body less tense. She's adjusted to the sensation now, getting used to having you buried in her, and she seems to enjoy it. You find yourself lost in the beauty of her body, her slim figure, her narrow waist, her taut ass and toned thighs, the way she moves with such purpose and grace. Even under stress, her poise shines through.

She begins to move faster, rocking her hips, pulling you deeper into her ass. Her movements become smoother and more fluid. Each time she sinks down onto you, she groans loudly. She's loving it, her eyes closed, her mouth open in strained pleasure. You hear her muttering things under her breath, like "Yes" and "fuck." Each time she says it, you can't help but smile. She's really enjoying herself. You love the sound of it.

Her walls cling to you tightly, her tight hole squeezing you firmly. Every time she rocks her hips, it sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, building, pulsing, and growing, until finally, your muscles clench. She grunts in exertion, her arms straining, her body trembling, and you grip her ass hard enough to mark her fair skin with fingerprints.

You hold her in place and you cum. Your dick spasms within her, filling her with hot liquid. You groan loudly as your hips buck wildly beneath her, spilling deep inside. The pleasure surges through every fibre of your being. When you're finally spent, you collapse back onto the bed. You're completely drained. Exhausted. You lie there, staring at the ceiling, your chest heaving, trying desperately to catch your breath.

Yuna is quick to join you, "That was so hot," she pants.

She doesn't say much else, catching her breath. While you're lost in the stars you're seeing, she rolls onto her side and brushes a stray hair from your face. It's affectionate and cute. Soft. Her dark eyes search yours and a playful smile appears on her lips. She reaches out to touch your cheek, tracing its curves before moving to stroke your chin.

"I meant it. I don't care if you still choose Heejin," she murmurs, the satisfaction evident in her voice. Her touch is light, tickling and tingling on your skin, like she's admiring a fine piece of art.

-

The question inevitably comes, with casual ease, the coffee mug halfway to your lips(where it pauses while you ponder). You take a sip, then place the cup down. A look into his eyes, and you give a simple answer.

"Good choice," he nods, offering no sincerity. Just a solemn acknowledgement. "Will be a nice ceremony. You should wear something smart." There's that nod again, dismissive. He puts his reading glasses on and peers back at his documents. More scribbles. As if the whole thing was nothing.

[watchmegetobsessed]

UNMATCHED

A/N: it's been like 6 months since i last posted something and honestly, i haven't even written anything, things are very shitty these days but i felt the motivation to write this quickly after watching 'tell me lies' and 'rivals' these past weeks so here we go! if student-prof type of fics are not your thing then don't read it

WORD COUNT: 2.6k

WARNING: age gap, student-professor relationship

SUMMARY: Harry is very strict about staying away from students as a young and handsome professor, but there is one person he can't get out of his head and a Christmas party brings an unexpected turn.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

Harry hates these type of parties, mostly because he can’t imagine inviting dozens of students into his home, his private space, have the roam around and spend an entire evening with them, talking and pretending like they aren’t just trying to get a better grade at the end of the semester with their too friendly behavior. Or, in his case, some girls try to push the boundaries and flirt with him, hoping to hook up with him. 

He is not stupid. He has heard students whisper about him several times, he notices the heart eyes when he is talking in class and he has gotten several phone numbers on papers since he started his PHD studies and started teaching last year. His friends teased him about being the heartthrob of the faculty, but he didn’t think it would actually happen and to this extent. To avoid any possible scandals, not that he planned to make any, he has put on quite a rigid mask towards the students to scare them off from even trying, though that hasn’t stopped some of them from wanting to shoot their shot. 

He wouldn’t have come to this party, he would rather be home and continue his research that’s still not even close to being done, but Professor Bradford, or Stella as she requests Harry to call her, is the only person he gets along with in the faculty. She is 18 years older than Harry, but still younger than the rest of the old men who have been teaching here since probably before the declaration of independence was signed. Those men are the reason younger people don’t like classic literature anymore, with their outdated ways of teaching and unwillingness to bring something modern into their lectures they are scaring the new generations away. But not Stella. She is one of the reasons Harry went into his PHD and now he gets to work with her. He couldn’t just reject her invitation for her annual Christmas Party she holds for her students and some colleagues. 

Now he is standing by the wall, drinking mulled wine and just gritting his teeth, trying to calculate how early is too early to leave. A couple of girls have already tried to chat him up, they like to circle him, leave him almost no room to escape and then make him talk about school stuff, but then they slyly bring up personal things, hoping to break his usual character, but he sees through them always. 

Harry’s best friend, Niall always teases him that he should just give in and have fun with one of them. His morals are a lot looser than Harry’s, that’s for sure. 

Just as he is about to look for the bathroom, not to use it but to hide for a bit, another group of girls spots him and he can already feel his skin crawling as they approach him from down the hallway. He is quick to assess the situation, but he realizes he has no chance of fleeing before they reach him. 

“Profesor! So good to see you here!” 

And here we go. 

It goes the same, they are extremely nice and inquiring about his plans for the next semester and then suddenly they are talking about summer and Harry knows they are moments away from asking what he’ll be doing once the school year is over. One of the girls is talking about going to Italy on a yacht and the others chime in with their own ridiculously over the top plans while Harry is avoiding to even look at them, his eyes roam around the other guests. 

That’s when he sees her. 

Just down the hall he can peek into the kitchen and there she is, with a boy Harry assumes to be her boyfriend. He’s seen them around campus the past few weeks, he even waited for her after Harry’s class and saw them walk away together as he fought the way his stomach churned every time. 

Since the moment she walked into his class at the beginning of the semester Harry has been feeling like he is losing his mind. Whether it be the way she laughs with her friends before class or focuses with undivided attention as Harry explains something by the board, or says hello every time she passes him in the cafeteria, Harry can’t stop thinking about her for days after even though he knows such feelings should be banned from his mind when it comes to a student. Every time he catches himself thinking about her he wants to throw himself out the window, but he still can’t fight it. There’s something in her that draws him in and swallows him whole and it’s not just the looks. Unlike a lot of students who take his classes for easy credits or to drool after him, she is there to learn as much as she can and she’s had the most brilliant thoughts on certain subjects Harry has ever encountered, making him almost jealous he wasn’t the one to think about them. 

She is… unmatched. And forbidden, but impossible to ignore. She’s been his vice for months.

From where he stands it appears she is having a fight with said boyfriend, her always cheerful expression is now rather upset and confused while the boy seems to be over the conversation, almost irritated by her, dismissed. Harry tries to appear not too obvious about watching them, but he is also way too fixated on her to ignore what’s happening just down the hallway. 

He glances away just for a few seconds, but the next time he looks back he sees the boy stomping away, irritated, while she is left there, pulling on her coat before disappearing through the backdoor, swallowed by the darkness of the unlit back terrace. 

And before Harry could stop himself, he is already moving.

“Excuse me girl,” he mumbles disorientedly as he slips out of the small circle. 

He places his glass to a nearby table and then grabs his own coat from the wardrobe in the hallway before making his way outside. After her. 

The moment he steps out into the cold a short sense of realization washes over him that he definitely shouldn’t be here, that he is crossing a line, but then another voice in his head tunes it out, convincing him that he is just making sure she is okay and there’s nothing wrong with that. 

Stopping by the door his gaze rakes through the terrace, but he doesn’t see her, until she spots her slouched form sitting on the bottom of the stairs leading out to the lawn. He hears her sniffling, but she hasn’t acknowledged his presence yet, if she noticed it at all. There’s a couple of moments of hesitation on his end, he can hear the rational side of him screaming somewhere in the back of his mind, telling him to turn around and just walk back inside, yet he still finds himself moving towards him and then that voice is silenced. 

“Everything alright?” Harry asks from the top of the stairs, but he startles her so much that she jumps to her feet and backs away a few feet. That’s when he sees her tearful eyes and red nose. 

“S-Sorry, I don’t–”

“Hey, it’s all good. You didn’t do anything wrong. Just checking in.”

She squints her eyes at him and that’s when he realizes she must not even see his face since the light is coming right behind him. So he walks down the stairs and then finally his face is lit and realization settles in her eyes. 

“Oh, Professor Styles. Hi.”

“Hello Y/N. Are you okay?” he asks again, to which she just chuckles bitterly. 

He can’t miss that even with tears running down her cheeks and her eyelashes stuck together, she looks so fucking beautiful it baffles him. He has to fight the urge to reach out and touch her tear-soaked cheeks. 

“Um, yeah, everything is… perfect,” she scoffs, reaching into her pockets, probably looking for tissues, but finding none so Harry grabs one from his inner pocket, handing it over to her, her fingers brushing against his for the shortest second as she takes it and then it’s over, but his skin keeps tingling. 

“Thanks,” she mumbles before drying her face as much as she can. “I’m good. Just…” She looks at him and changes her mind. “Ah, wouldn’t want to bore you with my nonsense personal drama.”

“Drama is never boring, have you learned nothing in my class?” he jokes and it actually makes her laugh. 

“This drama is not worthy of being taught in class though.”

“I bet some of the big names thought the same thing upon writing what we read in class these days.”

“So you’re saying I should write about how my boyfriend is fed up with me because I told him something he did hurt me?”

“That sounds like something I bet a lot of people would want to read about,” he smiles and when she mirrors it, he can feel his chest expanding. Somewhere way too deep in his mind an alarm goes off, but it quickly becomes one with the void and all he can think about is her. “Actually I can think of a few great pieces that are about similar topics.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, believe it or not, you’re not the first one to experience this.”

The way she looks at him is setting him on fire. The mixture of sadness, tiredness and gratitude towards his attempt to cheer her up is still making her glow in a way Harry has never seen before on any woman. 

“Do you mind analyzing one for me right now?”

“I’d be happy to.”

The party is completely tuned out for the two of them. First they actually talk about a novel, but soon it turns into sharing their favorite books and authors, their guilty pleasure reads,  recommendations for each other and even more personal bits Harry would never share with a student, but Y/N is the exception. 

They have no idea how much time passes as they stand outside and Harry ignores how the cold starts to sting his fingertips even in his pockets, because he knows that if they go inside this bubble will pop and he is too selfish to let that happen just yet. 

When there’s a short silence Harry notices that she is probably slipping back into what happened earlier and when she looks at him again he already knows she is about to share.

“I gave him a chance and explicitly told him not to fuck me over, because I can’t deal with that again. But all he has been doing is manipulating to believe that I’m always in the wrong.”

“It’s impossible for you to always be in the wrong.”

“I know. Well, part of me knows, but then I always go back to thinking that he is right, I must have messed up something.”

“That just proves that you have self-criticism, that you don’t just think everything you do is perfect.”

She sighs and looks away, her gaze distant as she battles herself inside her head, a feeling Harry knows very well, unfortunately. It doesn’t sit right with him that she is visibly struggling because of an immature guy’s untreated problems. She deserves so much more, but how can he tell that without crossing a line?

“Give it some time and you’ll see it clearer. Use your critical thinking on his actions as well, not just yours and don’t settle for less than your worth.”

“You think I did that?” she asks, eyes jumping back to meet his gaze. “You think I settled for less than my worth?”

There’s more behind her eyes than the words she said out loud and he is torn, because he can feel himself being pulled in more than ever, like she just opened the door the slightest and he has the chance to slip in. It’s the first time he senses something on her part and after all the yearning he is eager to take the chance. 

“I think you deserve a lot more, Y/N. You’re brilliant, bright and give so much to others, you should get the same amount if not more back. If someone can’t see that, then they don’t deserve you.”

For a second he wishes he didn’t say a thing, he regrets crossing the line and he fears her reaction, but then… 

Then he forgets everything. Because she is kissing him. 

It happens fast, one moment she is staring up at him with doe eyes, the next her lips are crashing against his, her hands grabbing onto the lapels of his coat. He barely recovers from the shock when she is already pulling away.

“I-I’m so sorry, I d-didn’t mean to, I just—Oh my Go–”

Her stammering is quickly cut short when he kisses her, his hands holding her jaw to angle her face perfectly and while her kiss was closed, rushed and panicked, this one is different. He is quick to beg for her to open her lips so he can explore as much of her as humanly possible, he is letting all the passions loose that he’s been locking up these past months and when she returns it just as eagerly it just pushes him even further. 

They inch back to the wall of the house and when he pins her against it a moan slips past her swollen lips, completely maddening him. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he breathes against her lips, kissing her jawline, savoring the sweet taste of her skin that’s supposed to be cold, but it’s actually burning. For him. 

He keeps one hand on the side of her neck, the other one digs into her hip through her coat and she keeps pushing against him, while her hands wander under his coat, they are on his waist, back and when they move to his lower stomach, brushing against his belt, something snaps inside him. 

But before he could completely lose his mind the backdoor opens and he quickly sobers up, pulling her farther away from the corner so they can’t be seen. 

“...and that was actually crazy,” a girl speaks up, oblivious to how Harry has Y/N pinned against the wall just a few feet away. They are both breathing heavily, but she has her face buried in his shoulder while he covers his mouth with a hand, adrenaline racing through his veins. 

“Ah shit, I’m out of cigarettes,” another girl says.

“Mm let’s get out of here then. I think Max said they are having a little party as well.”

“Okay.”

Then the door opens again and the voices disappear, but reality hits Harry hard in the head.

He slowly pulls back, enough to look at her face and when he sees her swollen lips and slightly smeared mascara he almost combusts. 

Because he wants nothing more than to take her, right here and then everywhere else in the world, but he also realizes what he just did and this time his rational side wins. 

“Fuck,” he gasps as he jumps back, cupping a hand over his mouth.

“I wanted it–”

“Y/N, stop!” he cuts her off. “Fuck, this was a mistake.”

“But I wanted it! You didn’t–”

“I said stop!” he barks and she shuts her mouth right away. “This shouldn’t have happened.”

And before she could protest again or worse, kiss him again, he is already storming back inside, across the house towards the front door.

“Harry! I haven’t seen you all night!” Stella catches him, but he just wants to get as far away from this house and from Y/N as possible.

“I’m sorry, I need to go. I’ll talk to you later,” is all he manages to say before he is already out the door.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[itaipava]

— f1 boys falling asleep on you.

˒ ⌕ LANDO NORRIS

trying to sleep at an ungodly hour after returning home from a night out; still feeling giddy from the rush and excitement of the night as you both get ready for bed. he hugs you from behind and rests his head on your shoulder as you brush your teeth, almost falling asleep right there. after you’re done, you crawl into bed together, saying “goodnight” for the thousandth time, but neither of you closing your eyes as you gaze happily at each other with soft giggles and bright smiles amidst yawns. sleepy and a little tipsy, but too in love with the moment and each other to want to fall asleep, but inevitably doing so with happy sighs as he pulls you closer to him, with his face in your neck and intertwining your legs.

˒ ⌕ GEORSE RUSSELL

he always says he wants to do a lot of things with you when he gets home to make up for the time he was gone, but as soon as you settle in to watch that new movie you were looking forward to watch, he falls asleep. you look at him and smile, gently placing his head on your lap. you stroke his hair as he sleeps peacefully. but he ends up waking up in the middle of the movie, and starts asking questions like "what happened to him?" while lazily pointing at the character and, as soon as you finish talking, he dozes off again, even though he promised himself that he would stay awake.

˒ ⌕ SEBASTIAN VETTEL

you woke up early, but you didn't want to disturb his sleep, so you tried to get out of bed as quietly as possible. you sat up and stretched, but before you could actually get up, you felt his arm around your waist, pulling you against him. you smiled, and tried to tell him that you needed to get up, but he was too busy using your lap as a pillow to even hear you.

˒ ⌕ CARLOS SAINZ

he had been trying to sleep alone for a long time, but he couldn't even with the gentle sound of the rain outside. you open the bedroom door and he smiles when he sees you; he lifts the blanket next to him, a silent invitation for you to go lie down with him. you smile and lie down, silently he pulls you to him, holding you lovingly. you stroke his hair and he closes his eyes, enjoying your affection and the warmth of your body. and when you least expect it, he is in a deep sleep while holding you.

˒ ⌕ CHARLES LECLERC

you were lying together on the couch in the living room, savoring the warmth and the cool breezes that came in through the sunny window; you admired how the sunlight fell beautifully on each other's features as he held you close to him. there was soft music playing in the background as you hummed along to the melody or said things like "oh, i love this song!" which always made him smile. wordless but meaningful looks of "i love you" to each other. suddenly he stopped running his fingertips over your body and, looking at his face, you saw that he fell asleep holding you, feeling safer than ever.

˒ ⌕ LEWIS HAMILTON

you and him love to talk before bed; it’s an unspoken routine in your relationship. you talk about your days, your thoughts, your worries, about that squirrel you saw on the street, anything and everything; your voices only slightly above whisper, trying not to disturb the quietness of the night but failing to do so when laughter comes over you both. he hugged your waist and put his face in your neck while you spoke, but at a certain point you felt his heavy breathing and, when you looked at him, you saw him sleeping. you smiled affectionately and gave him a kiss on the corner of his mouth, which made him pull you even closer to him.

˒ ⌕ OSCAR PIASTRI

after he takes you to a great restaurant in the city, you arrive home and rest on the couch while talking about anything that comes to mind. he sighs deeply, and puts his head on your shoulder, looking at his face, you notice how sleepy he is when the food coma kicks in. you smile, and pull him closer to you, and that's when he settles down next to you on the couch, holding you tightly against him as he lets sleep take over.

˒ ⌕ FRANCO COLAPINTO

he comes home absolutely exhausted after a long training session. after a hot shower, he lies on top of you, hugs your waist and puts his face in your neck, feeling your warmth and your scent. at that moment, he feels like he is in heaven. you gently stroke his back while asking him how his day was, but he is so tired that he just mumbles something softly and falls asleep on you.

˒ ⌕ MAX VERSTAPPEN

you woke up earlier than usual, and you couldn’t fall asleep again but you didn’t want to leave his side; quiet moments with him are so rare, so you wanted to make the most of them. he also wakes up, but only to pull you towards him even more, using you as a pillow. you smile and stroke his hair, which makes him sigh and fall asleep again, without a care in the world.

[embervoices]

A very useful thread on Bluesky:

(There is a lot more. Rather than give you all the images, I've copied the full text below.)

Meredith Rose‬ ‪@mrose.ink‬ November 8, 2024

This is not going to be a repeat of 2016-2020. It will be better, it will be worse, but most of all it will be different. Here are things I want every single person to keep in mind as we head into round 2 of a Trump admin.

My credentials: I’m a queer female public interest attorney working on tech policy in DC. I’ve been doing this for a decade--longer than some, not as long as others. I had to navigate three different administrations, as well as Congress, regulatory agencies, courts, and the advocacy world.

FIRST: don’t let despair override your media literacy.

The left has grifters, just like every other movement. If you’re able and compelled to donate, give to orgs with established track records. Avoid giving to individuals, especially anyone who emerges overnight with a one-weird-trick “plan.”

The left is not immune to misinformation, and everyone—EVERYONE—falls for it sometimes, present company included. There is no shame in it. When (not if) it happens to you, you should acknowledge it; delete or retract the post to reduce the spread; and move on.

If a source consistently shares half-truths or outright misinformation, it is not trustworthy, no matter how much “their heart is in the right place.” Unfollow and move on.

Prediction, analysis, and reporting are three fundamentally different things. Learn to identify them for what they are. Reject attempts by amateur “analysts” to predict the future. They know as much as you do.

Real subject matter experts know and acknowledge their limits. They’re also (usually) hesitant to try and predict the future. The best frame their predictions in terms of a range of possible outcomes. Subject matter experts may also disagree with one another! It happens!

SECOND: What we know for sure about how the Trump, how he operates, and how that will impact the next four years.

Trump is a narcissist who avoids reading and doesn’t care about details. He cannot be persuaded by argument or logic; he’s moved mostly by flattery, and will agree with the last person who flattered him. He can and will upend his own administration’s work without warning, often by tweet.

As a result, most policy experts—even those "on his side"—dread him taking an interest in their field. Ask any Republican staffer who worked in Congress during the last administration, and most of them will confirm that their greatest fear was Trump tweeting about anything related to their work.

As such, people who are serious about their work will do everything to make it as invisible and boring-seeming as possible. This is the policy equivalent of defensive camouflage. Lots of “normie” work will continue in silence. (The lion’s share of tech policy ends up in this bucket.)

If you have a niche issue that you care about, now is a great time to donate to orgs that work on it. Lots of money will be funneled to big legacy orgs working on headline issues: ACLU, climate change orgs, etc. Consider sending your donations where they matter most: local, niche, established.

Trump runs his cabinet like the Apprentice. He thrives on chaos and making people compete for his approval. Not only does he not reward collaboration between his subordinates, he actively undermines it.

Moreover, everyone who works with him knows that they’re vulnerable to being thrown under the bus at a moment’s notice, for any reason (or for no reason at all). His cabinet is going to be scorpions in a bottle. They will not be able to coordinate, for good or ill.

One scorpion can still do a lot of horrific damage. But large scale inter-agency coordination is unlikely, particularly after the first few months, by which point he will likely (prediction warning!) have gone through a handful of cabinet secretaries already.

FINALLY: The view from inside civil society heading into 2025.

In 2016, Trump was a largely unknown quantity. The left and establishment right alike wasted a lot of time trying to read tea leaves and make sense of this guy, because he was completely outside the realm of what anyone had dealt with. That’s not happening now.

He did us a favor by broadcasting his plans in advance (aka Project 2025). Civil society has spent the last 2.5 years strategizing around it. We’re not starting off flat-footed.

The Biden admin did a good amount to future-proof its own achievements. Folks can speak to their own areas of expertise, but clean energy and CHIPS and Science Act (investing in domestic semiconductor production) have benefitted from huge sunk investments. That money’s not getting clawed back.

OVERALL TAKE-AWAYS:

It's going to suck. But civil society and the political left have some advantages we didn't have last time. We know him, we know his angles, and we know who he's bringing in--none of which we had in 2016.

We'll get through this. It will be grim, but we'll get through it.

John Cutting‬ ‪@johncutting.bsky.social‬

Thanks Meredith. I really valued your analysis over the past few years, and I think this is a reasonable, actionable framework to think about the upcoming storm

Meredith Rose‬ ‪@mrose.ink‬

I really cannot overstate how much time was (necessarily) wasted in 2017 trying to figure out this guy and his influences. The fact that he's not only a known quantity, but ran the most over-studied administration in this nation's recent history, makes this a very different game.

John Cutting‬ ‪@johncutting.bsky.social‬

I bet we can weaponize his narcissism. Let's say some ghoul starts making progress with a mass deportation effort, if we start calling that ghoul that "shadow president" en masse, Trump would fire him in right away and appoint Hulk Hogan or something

‪Meredith Rose‬ ‪@mrose.ink‬

This is exactly why I don't think Musk will last very long. Trump is very clear that he's the only one in the room allowed to have an ego or any kind of brand name.

[moonstruckme]

Thawing Out

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12

cw: modern au, chronic pain, alcohol, smoking

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 3.2k words

Remus is quiet the next day at practice. Or maybe that’s only in your head. After all, it’s not like he can just shout across the ice at you like he used to at home, not with the rink packed with a dozen other figure skaters practicing before their events today and tomorrow. Maybe it’s only easier for you to imagine he feels as confused and conflicted as you do. 

Evidently you’d been wrong about the feelings between Remus and Sirius. Or if you were right, Remus hasn’t taken notice of it himself yet. But perhaps it’s not your place to assume that you know what he wants. As you learned last night, you don’t even know what you want. 

You didn’t realize how badly you’ve been wanting to kiss Remus until he did it for you. Your mind emptied out and your body reacted like it had been waiting for years, desperate to feel him, to learn all of him, with your mouth and your hands and the press of your nose against his cheek. Your skin became more sensitive than it’s ever been under his touch. You’ve never felt more aware of your body than you are on the ice, but Remus ignited something different in you. The softest press of his hand made you want to bend and mold yourself to his liking. 

Ordinarily, you’d be desperate to tell Sirius. He’s your best friend, your partner, he’s known about every crush you’ve had since you were teenagers. But when you woke up this morning, thought about seeing him and divulging every detail from the night before, something odd and unpleasant curdled in your gut. 

You’ve never had the urge to keep secrets from Sirius before. But this, you find, you don’t want him to know. It makes you feel sick even now, going in and out of turns with him while Remus watches you both from outside the boards. Watching your best friend look at you like everything is normal, with all the trust in the world, and knowing that you’re keeping this from him. 

You feel guilty, though you don’t know why. And you don’t know if it’s for kissing Remus or for letting Remus kiss you. All you know is that suddenly whenever Sirius looks at you, you feel like you’re holding his heart in your hands, and you aren’t certain you can be trusted with it. 

“The American is looking at you,” Sirius says as you finish your routine. 

You glance behind you, catching the eyes of another skater before he looks away. Your face heats. 

“He could’ve been looking at you,” you point out. 

“Babe, there are lots of people here looking at me, but just as many with their eyes on you.” Sirius grins, slipping an arm around your waist. “We can feed the rumors that we’re together if you want to keep them from bothering you,” he says in a low voice, eyes drooping in a show of flirtation, “but don’t pretend you’re not the most gorgeous thing here.” 

Remus’ voice echoes in your head. You’re beautiful. Your heartbeat pounds. Sirius is watching you with an easy familiarity, waiting for you to either give him the go ahead or tell him to back off. The feeling of his hand on your back makes something tighten in your core, even as that strange guilt spreads through the same area like a blight. 

You swallow. “Would you be okay to run the death spiral again?” 

Sirius blinks. “Now? It’s a bit crowded for that.” 

“I think we can manage.” You move away from his arm, taking him by the hand instead. Your eyes meet Remus’ as you skate to a clear part of the rink. Maybe it’s still only your imagination, but you think he looks as distraught as you feel. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Remus feels like a piece of shit. 

He’s known about Sirius’ feelings for you since forever, but you’d looked at Remus like he was still worthy of admiration and apparently that was all it took to bring him to his knees. It felt like the worst possible betrayal of Sirius, who was finally maybe becoming his friend, and then when Remus had tried to reverse course he’d hurt you, too. 

The way you’d looked at him—surprised, wounded, uncertain. Remus had been too panicked to give you the explanation you deserved. He’d left you like that. And though you acted normal at practice today, he can tell he’s left you confused. 

Weeks of building trust with the both of you—at first unconsciously, but lately with more intention and hope—and Remus has managed to ruin it in the course of a night. You and Sirius deserve better. 

Remus wanted to be your friend—if his actions last night were any indication, part of him has wanted to be more than that—but he’ll have to make it up to you by being your coach. If he can’t do anything else, he still can get you through this competition. He’ll leave it up to you to decide if you want anything to do with him after that. 

And part of being your coach, he reasons, is making sure you get enough sleep the night before competition. He doubts you’ll want to see him again, but still Remus knocks on your door to ensure you’re getting ready for bed at a reasonable hour. His heart squeezes when you answer with your toothbrush in your mouth, those sweet pajamas of yours creased and crinkled from the night before. You’re an angel for making it easy on him, your usual smiley self as you assure Remus you’re going straight to bed and wish him a good night before shutting the door. 

Sirius’ room is only next to yours. The lights are out, which Remus takes as a good sign, but when he knocks there’s no answer. He knocks again. 

“Sirius,” he says into the doorframe. “Just say something if you’re going to sleep.” 

He waits for a groan or a resentful grumble, but there’s no sound. He knocks for a while longer. When Remus finally gets out his phone to call his charge, he listens for buzzing in the room, but he doesn’t hear it. 

Sirius picks up on the third ring. 

It takes Remus a while to find him. Sirius’ instructions were vague and convoluted, partly because he was lost himself and partly because of the way his words were slurring. Eventually Remus locates the other boy on the rooftop of a bar, Sirius’ legs dangling out over the street and a cigarette dangling from his mouth. 

Remus has to negotiate with the bar manager for a handful of minutes before he’s shown the frightening metal ladder that goes up to the roof. When he sits down beside Sirius, the first thing he does is pluck the cigarette from between his lips. 

“Oi!” Sirius turns to him. Remus sets a hand on his chest, a perhaps overcautious measure to ensure he doesn’t lean himself right off the roof. “I thought you were cool about that.” 

“Not the night before comp.” Remus steals the cig for himself, looking at Sirius over the glow of the cherry. “Did they just let you up here?” 

It takes Sirius a second to catch onto what he’s asking about. “Yeah. Why?” 

Remus shakes his head, fighting a grin. “You always get whatever you want, don’t you?” 

Sirius' laugh is short and bitter. “Not quite.” 

He turns away from Remus, and Remus’ heart sinks. For a brief, harrowing moment, he thinks, He knows. 

Sirius says to the empty night air, “Why don’t we see how we place tomorrow, and you can tell me then if I always get what I want.” 

“Oh, I see.” Remus takes another drag, relieved. “So you’ve come up here to have a pity party about things that haven’t happened yet. Have I got that right?” 

Sirius pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. Remus snatches it before he can react. The other boy turns around, angry now. “Piss off, Remus.” 

“Wish that I could,” Remus says evenly, stowing the pack in his pocket, “but it’s my job to make sure you perform as well as you can tomorrow. That means working lungs and a clear head.”

Sirius sulks but doesn’t try to grab them back. He only looks out into the black night. 

“Sirius,” says Remus, “if you’re worried about whether you’re going to medal, or what medal you’re going to get, that’s pointless. You can’t control how anyone else performs or how you measure up relative to them. All you can do is give your best to your routine.” 

“Right. Is that how you thought about it as well?” 

“No,” he admits. “But you guys didn’t hire a competitive teenage prick, you hired a coach.” 

Sirius’ mouth kicks up at the corner. “I suppose that is better.” 

“I think so,” Remus agrees. He watches the other boy for a handful of moments, sensing an opening. “You know, when it comes down to it, doing your best might involve doing an actual death spiral.”

Sirius’ expression sours again, but Remus presses on. 

“I know you could do it if you wanted to. You don’t seem to want to, though. I don’t get why. At first I thought you might not trust y/n to keep herself level, but obviously you’d trust her with anything. And she trusts you to keep her there, too, so what’s the issue?” 

For a while, it seems as though Sirius might not reply. The silence is thick and heavy. He continues looking out at nothing, at the stars hidden behind thick clouds, but eventually his lips part on a sigh. 

“She trusts too easily. She shouldn’t be so sure of me.” 

Remus’ brows furrow. Something unexpected about getting to know Sirius has been learning how quickly all his brash confidence can crumble away. It’s almost never when someone else is upset with him; rather, when he’s upset with himself. Remus used to get irritated by the other boy’s bravado, but now he’s just beginning to realize how fragile it truly is. That he never needed to bring Sirius down a peg, because Sirius was almost always already doing it himself. He’s still not quite used to it.

“Let’s get back,” Remus says gently. “It’s cold up here.” 

Sirius doesn’t protest as Remus leads him downstairs, watching carefully as he climbs down the creaky ladder. On the street Sirius nearly walks into a brick wall, and Remus takes his elbow in hand to prevent it. 

“You know,” he says, “y/n was actually just telling me last night that she was worried she was going to let you down.” 

Sirius makes an appalled scoffing sound. “Her? What for?” 

“I don’t know,” Remus half fibs. “But it would probably sound equally ridiculous to her that you’re thinking the same thing about her. And from an outside perspective, it’s always seemed to me like you’re perfectly suited to each other.” 

Sirius makes a low, whiny sound. Remus startles when he pulls out of his grasp. 

“Neither of you get it.” He lists sideways. 

Remus grabs for him, getting an arm securely around Sirius’ waist. He can’t help but think that two weeks ago this sort of behavior from Sirius would have irked him, but now he only feels a bemused sort of tenderness. He doesn’t understand what Sirius is so upset about, but he can tell it’s not nothing. “Explain it,” he coaxes. 

Sirius seems almost relieved to have been pulled back. He lets himself lean into Remus’ side. “I don’t deserve her trust,” he says in a quiet, mumbly voice. “I don’t deserve any of her. I don’t know why good people like her and James and you always find me, but I’m no good at keeping you. I’ll get mean, or selfish, and you’ll see. But I can’t—” His voice thins, and Remus’ grip on him tightens unconsciously. “I can’t risk losing her. I’m going to get her hurt, and she’ll stop trusting me, and I’ll have let her down again. I can’t do it.” 

The pair walks for a while in silence. Remus can feel the shadows of deeper fears swimming underneath the ones Sirius has just divulged to him, but he’s not sure how to respond. Even during Remus’ most spectacular failures of his career, he was at least the only one who got hurt. He was never tied to anyone else, never risked anybody but himself. If he messed up, he suffered the consequences, and that was it. 

Remus holds Sirius against him as he uses his card to enter the Village. The halls are quiet, most athletes and staff having turned in for the night. 

“When I first started working with the two of you,” Remus says lowly, “I didn’t always see why y/n trusted you so much, either. You were a brilliant skater, of course, but you just seemed like such a tosser.” 

That works as intended, getting a puff of laughter out of Sirius. 

“But I knew I had to figure out a way to work with you, and she just seemed to have complete faith in you. So after a while, I just started trusting that she knew what she was doing. She knew you better than I did, of course, so I figured the two of you had an understanding I just couldn’t comprehend. And the longer I worked with you, the more I could see how she was right.

“What I’m trying to say is, it took me a while to trust you, but I came around because I trusted her. You trust her, don’t you?” 

Sirius has been quiet, but at this, he looks up as though in surprise. “Of course, yeah.” 

Remus suppresses a smile. They both fall silent as they pass by your room, eyes catching on the door you’re sleeping behind like there’s a siren’s call coming from within. Remus wonders if it’s for the same reasons. 

After Sirius lets them into his room, Remus continues softly, “So maybe you ought to give it a try. If you can’t trust yourself, trust the faith she has in you. When is she ever wrong?” 

He expects Sirius to smile at that, but he doesn’t seem to be in the mood for joking. His eyes are big and sad as he sits down on his bed, a quiet sort of asking in them. 

“I think she could be wrong about this,” he says in a near whisper. 

Remus’ throat aches with sympathy. He crouches by Sirius’ feet, ignoring the protests of his hip to start taking off the other boy’s shoes. 

“She’s not,” he says. “She’s just smarter than the both of us. You’re loyal, and brave, and kind. She’s always known that, but it took me a while to catch on.”

“I’m not.” Sirius sounds almost desperate. 

Remus doesn’t back down. “You are.” Frustration and tenderness war inside him. He sets his hands on Sirius’ knees, looking him in the eyes. “Why would I lie to you?” 

A look comes over Sirius face, peculiar only in the moment before Remus recognizes it. He’s seen Sirius look that way a thousand times. At you. 

Remus’ heart thumps. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Remus’ thumb strokes over his thigh, and Sirius’ heart does something abhorrent behind his ribs

“Sirius.” Amber eyes look into his, warm and earnest and unrelenting. “Why would I lie?” 

Sirius began to sober up as soon as Remus called him earlier tonight. He’d started drinking to try and rid himself of that pesky, familiar feeling of derealization that had taken hold, but he’d stopped then. Paid his tab and gone up to the roof, where in the cool air Sirius had the powerful, frightening urge to wait for Remus and tell him everything about himself. Tell him every last terrible thing and see if he flinched. 

Only he hadn’t flinched. He’d taken Sirius home, whatever drunkenness was left lost on the wind during the walk, and taken his shoes off for him, and told him in various words that he was worth something. 

And now Remus is rubbing the sides of his knees. And his hands are gentle and so are his eyes, and his expression says that he believes it, that Sirius is worth something, and Sirus thinks, Fuck it. 

If it goes poorly, he can say tomorrow that he was drunk and doesn’t remember a thing.

Sirius mashes his lips into Remus’. 

A hoarse sound tears from somewhere inside Remus. He pushes against Sirius’ mouth, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and pressing him backwards onto the bed. The mattress is hard and the frame creaks under their combined weight, Remus’ hand finding Sirius’ throat and wrapping around it like an embrace. 

Sirius flips them over. Remus lets him, reclining back against the pillow propped along the wall and tugging Sirius closer like someone’s going to rip him away. He tastes like chocolate and cigarettes. A low whine rises in Sirius’ throat. 

Remus’ hands loosen their grip. “Wait.” 

“No,” Sirius pleads. 

“Aren’t you….” Remus pants. He pulls their lips apart but doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against Sirius’. “I’m confused. I thought you had feelings for y/n.” 

Sirius sucks in a breath. “You know about that?” 

A quiet, nervous chuckle. “Yeah, love. But you’ve just kissed me, so…I suppose I’m wondering what that means.” 

Sirius’ heart trembles. “I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t know.” 

“It’s alright.” Remus’ voice is a balm. He kisses Sirius once, a soft peck. “What do you feel?” 

Sirius opens his eyes and finds Remus watching him. The other boy’s forehead sits a bit higher than his, so Sirius has to tilt his gaze up, feeling cracked open and wretched. 

“I don’t know,” he says again, softer. “Is it bad to want both?” 

There’s a brief pause. Remus’ brow creases slightly. “I don’t think so,” he replies. “But I have to tell you something.” 

Sirius takes his forehead away from Remus’, putting a couple of inches between them. “Go on, then.” 

“Last night, I kissed y/n.” 

Sirius braces himself to hide a reaction, but there’s nowhere to hide from Remus’ perceptive gaze and after a moment, Sirius finds there’s not much reaction to hide anyway. He doesn’t feel upset. The idea of Remus kissing you is…well, it’s not unlike hearing him call you pet names or watching him touch you. Sirius doesn’t wish that Remus hadn’t done it, only that he’d been there as well. He does sort of wish that he’d gotten to kiss both of you first, though. 

“I stopped it as soon as my head caught up to me,” Remus goes on. He seems to be studying Sirius, though Sirius has no clue what he might find. “I felt really awful for doing it when I knew you had feelings for her, but now that you’ve said that, I think I might have feelings for both of you, too.” 

“Brilliant.” Sirius’ heart is hammering, but he does his best to make his voice sound unaffected. “Then what do we do now?” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You stumble out of bed half-awake. You’re not even entirely sure if someone’s knocked on your door or if you’ve dreamed it, but your feet propel you there with urgency nonetheless. You rub your eyes as you open it, mouth stretching with a yawn. 

Sirius and Remus are standing outside, both rumpled but still in their daytime clothes. Their pupils are blown and lips wet and swollen. 

“We were wondering,” says Remus, slightly breathlessly, “if you might have a moment.”

[bittersw33t-lotus]

Little Life

Ghosting Series pt. 3

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem! Reader

Cw: pregnancy stuff, reader is female, cursing (let me know I I missed anything)

A/N: sorry if this is very short the chapters may be pretty short just so my motivation to keep writing can stay.

Part 2 here

“Alright hon, if you can lay on the bed and lift you shirt over you belly please.” Dr. Raven says, the woman pointing to the dull looking patient bed with thin paper lining fitted over the top.

You follow her words and sit down on the bed, the cushion was surprisingly comfortable to sit on. You bring your shirt up over your stomach stopping at your rib cage and lay back waiting for Raven to prepare for the scanning. You watch as she brings out a plastic bottle you assumed was the gel, as she opened the plastic cap as she looks at you. “Okay, I’m going to put this on your abdomen. Be prepared, this will be cold.” She says as she squeezes the bottle over your stomach, the bright translucent blue gel slithers out the opening and trails down towards your stomach.

The moment it makes contact with your skin, your stomach retracted back at the cold viscous material. You shudder a breath and laugh a bit. “You weren’t lying.” You joked as Raven smiled and chucked at your response.

“Always takes them by surprise.” She says before she finishes squeezing the bottle, pulling it away and closing the cap back on. Placing it down on the table beside her she grabs the transducer clicking a few buttons and the screen turns on. She places the nub against your abdomen and spread the gel around your stomach and looks at the screen seeing the scan coming through as she adjusts it to hover where your uterus is.

You watch the screen feeling a bit anxious as you watch trying to figure out exactly what you were seeing, after a couple seconds you soon immediately spot a little white blob. A baby.

“There it is. Your baby.” She tells you as you stare at the screen in awe. That’s really inside you. Your baby slowly growing by the second, yours and Simon’s baby.

“So tiny.” You say as Dr. Raven nods to your words.

“You’re only eight weeks currently, it looks like you and the baby are doing just fine so far, baby is healthy and growing, overall you’re both doing great. I’ll provide you with some prenatal vitamins for you to take. I did notice in your readings, your blood pressure is a bit high than we’d like it to be so I need you to make sure you’re not overworking yourself, do more things to keep you calm and not focus and do things that cause you such distress if that’s possible. Other than that, you’re all set and good to go. Do you have any questions for me?” Dr. Raven says as she takes a few pictures of the scan to print out for you.

You breathe out in relief, the baby is all good. You figured the high blood pressure was definitely caused by the whole situation with Simon so you don’t know how you can make yourself forget about it, on top of that you’ve also been worried about finding a place to live and trying to figure out your financial situation now with Simon out of the picture. You take a deep breath and nod at Dr. Ravens advice. “I’ll be sure not to.” You tell her with a small smile as she hands you a paper towel to wipe off the gel, which you take.

“Would you be comfortable with telling me about the cause for your mental or physical wellbeing may be? Anything that maybe I could help you with if possible.” She asks you; you can spot the concern in her eyes when she brings it up.

You shake your head and ignore the feeling you felt as she brings it up but regardless you smile and shake your head. “Just trying to deal with not having the father in the picture. He decided he didn't want to be around." You tell her as she nods, understanding your words.

"I'm sorry to hear that." She tells you as you simply shrug your shoulders pulling you shirt back down.

"it's fine, think we'll be better off without him anyways.” You tell her. It's true, to an extent, at least that’s what keep telling yourself. You know you can do this all on your own. It won't be easy, but you hope you can manage. But deep down, you know you'll never be okay not having him by your side. He’ll miss out on so much, like watching your baby grow, learning and growing along with the baby as that baby also learns from you. You both won’t grow old together like you both wanted, with a bunch of animals, but with the baby included, maybe one or two more if things had worked out in the end.

You finish up the remaining paper work you had to sign and received your vitamins. Dr. Raven hands the ultrasound pictures to you in a white envelope and you make your way back to the lobby where Jared waited, still sitting and reading the pamphlets. He looks up as he notices you approaching and smiles as he stands up. “How’d it go?” He asks you.

You hold up the envelope with a smile. “It was great, got to see the baby, doctor said that they’re healthy and everything looks good thankfully. Just have to focus on not stressing myself out so much.” You tell him as you both make your way out of the building and into the parking lot.

“That’s great to hear. I’m sure Stacy already told you but she has a surprise in stock for you but she’s wondering if you have anything nice to wear.” He asks you as you approach the car.

Opening the car door you think for a minute before you nodded. “Yeah, I should.” You tell him. You’re sure you can find something. You took everything with you when you left Simon’s place, all your things are still in boxes save for the necessities that you need, but you’re sure you can find something.

On the drive back you spent the entire car ride back home staring and looking at the ultrasound picture, the little blob that you still couldn’t grasp was your baby, just still needed some more months to grow before you can meet them and that made you anxious. You don’t think you could wait that long.

“What’re you hoping for?” Jared asks you, steering the wheel as he switches to the next lane, glancing at the photos in your hand.

You think about it for a moment, it hasn’t crossed your mind surprisingly. Either one would be great, there was a moment where you dreamt of having a baby girl with Simon. You can’t lie, the sight of Simon being a girl dad made you all giddy and warm. Then thinking about a little boy, one that looked like a copy and paste of Simon would be so cute. You smile as the possibilities ran through your head, of course you’re just being delusional, you wouldn’t be able to see that happen ever. Just a thought in the back of your mind.

“Honestly either would be great. I don’t mind what I have, as long as the baby is healthy that’s enough for me.” You say tucking the photos into your purse, holding it close to you.

Jared smiled and nodded. “Sounds great, you’ll make a great mother. I’m sure of it.” He says to you as you smile, the reassurance from Jared was something you didn’t know you needed but greatly appreciated.

“Thanks.” You say to him, before you know it you’ve finally made it back home.

Once you arrived home you got out the car and walked into the house. Right away Stacy approached you with a smile.

“How’d it go?” She asks you as she gets up from the soft couch and walking over towards you and Jared.

You pull out the envelope and pull out the multiple pictures and hand them out for her. Upon seeing them she awe’s as she examined the little bean like fetus. “Little baby.” She coos before looking at you. “How far along are you?” She asks you.

“Eight weeks. I’ll be able to see the baby’s gender by fourteen weeks.” You tell her as she hands back the photos to you. Placing them in you bag you can see Stacy smile as she walks towards the island counter of in the kitchen. “Oh, what was that surprise you had in store?” You ask her.

She props herself up on the counter with her elbows and looks at the time. “We decided to treat you to dinner tonight. We have a reservation set for six tonight. You feeling up for it?” She asks you.

You take a moment to think and nod your head a bit excited to hear you’ll be eating at a restaurant feeling your hormones go crazed at the thought of food. “Yeah, I’ll get ready now.” You tell her with a wide smile. You haven’t eaten out at a restaurant in a long time. Last time you went was with Simon for the last anniversary together.

Making your way to your ‘room’ you take out a box with your fancier clothes. Opening the box you pull out multiple tops, bottoms, and dresses. Finally choosing one you like you slip the dress on and admire yourself in the mirror. You bump is bulging out a bit, you take the time to admire it.

You took the time to shower, do your make up and get dressed right on time. Stacy looked at your outfit as you did a 360 showing off your outfit. “You’re not even half way into pregnancy and already look like a milf.” Stacy jokes, you laugh as you grab your purse.

“Don’t tell me lies Stace.” You tell her as she shrugs her shoulder.

“I only tell the truth.” She says as you both walk out the door and towards the already running car where Jared sat in waiting for you two.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

A click from the lock sounds from the front door as it swings open. Simon’s bulking frame walks through the door as he scans the house. It’s dark and eerily silent.

When Simon came back, he felt like shit. His heart dreaded coming home to see your answer. He hoped you stayed, at least long enough till he came back, he planned to move out the house and leave it for you if you decided to keep the baby. It would give him a peace of mind to know where you were and know that you and the kid were safe, and you could use the extra room and space for the baby. But, even if you got rid of it, he doesn’t know if your relationship could ever be the same.

However your answer was first made clear when your car not in the drive way. His heart dropped but he took a deep breath, ‘Maybe she’s at the store.’ He thought. He hadn’t texted you either to let him know he was coming home today, he couldn’t bring himself too.

You’re not here. It’s something Simon suspected but he still feels dread overcome him as he steps into the house and notices the little things around the house that belonged to you were gone. Your shoes were gone, your car keys, the blanket you left on the couch is gone. He walks into your shared bedroom, which is now his bedroom, opening the door and he’s stunned with how much of an eye sore it is. His room is so plain now, like how it looked before you moved in with him.

He remembers how much you wanted to decorate the place, especially the bedroom, you hated how lifeless the whole house looked. It didn’t take much to convince him to let you decorate saying , “Go crazy.” And you did. Literally. You decorated adding a touch of you but keeping it to an extent to not overwhelm Simon. You hung up a few decorations and posters in the bed room of bands you and Simon both loved. A few shelves displaying your books and trinkets. Your touch added to his home making it more like home for him. Like you were his home. He liked, loved it if he dare say, he worried you would over do the place but it look perfect. Like you.

But now as he looked around the house, he sees the walls are bare and plain. He feels plain now, empty. Sad. He looks through your closet and drawers only to find them completely bare and empty.

He walks into the living room notices your shoes are gonna as well from the rack, and the little table beside the front door, he noticed the white folded paper on the little ceramic plate that held their keys, walking over he pick up the paper seeing his name written on it in your hand writing, unfolding it reveals page with your writing inked into the material.

‘I know we made a promise but this is something that takes two to do, accidents happen and I know you never wanted children and you knew it was still on the table for me, I’m thankful that you gave me a choice, even if it wasn’t easy. I don’t want to drag you into something you never wanted but it still hurts that I have to chose between you and this baby. I figured it was best for the both of us if I left, you can keep your home and I can keep my baby. I hope you stay safe out there Simon and please take care of yourself. I still and always will love you and I’m sorry.’ Simon checked the back of the paper for anything else but it was empty. You didn’t say where or what you were going to do and it scared Simon. Were you safe, do you have a place to stay, do you have people to help?

He knew you weren’t really in any contact with your family, your only friends were Johnny, Gaz, and Price. His ‘friends’ were yours. For the most part Simon knew you didn’t have anyone to help you or look after you and the baby. “Fuck!”

Taglist <3

@wise-owl @sandyseagullsip @mileyraes @nicolebarnes @nikkyevansdochen22 @mattmurdock-wife24 @demonking-69 @mooievis @lunamoonbby @cherrycosmos392 @eevee-of-eternity @makimamybelovedwife @venavanup @amberpanda99 @simplyymee98 @callmeluno @stormy-stardust @ssc7514 @badbitchthings @moldypeaching @asteria33 @going-through-shit @blarba-girl @leonsgirlie @andoraamore @nobodycanknoww @thegreyjoyed @natashamea18 @kylies-love-letter @blackhawkfanatic @leehoonii-i @xenop0p @sh1ga-to3s

[lufyuu]

,, Bloodstained Crown ''

Yandere emperor x vengeful ex-crown prince reader

Tw/s: obsessive love, kidnapping, heavy yandere themes, rough + shameless + clingy yandere, dubcon, voyeurism, cockwarming, sex in public, power imbalance, one sided enemies to lovers, mentions of killing/death, slight gore.

They never seem to stop, those clouds. Crying all day as if mourning something important. Their tears seem to wash away the thick red liquid on the dirty floor. It wouldn't have been possible if not for the roof of the manor being in shambles. "T-t-those damned Luminayres—", he coughs, and coughs, and coughs, almost reaching his limit and taking his last breath. The heavy rain drowns out the sobs of a young teen, clinging onto what little hope he had left. He was in utter shock, not even able to say a single thing. Nothing came out his mouth. Not even a single whimper looking at the dead bodies. Dead bodies of his parents, servants, everyone who had ever lived in that palace. Dead. In a pool of their own blood. No amount of apologies will stop this former royal from avenging them all.

Even after so many years. Perhaps even a century has passed. You're determined to finish what they started. They made a huge mistake. They didn't check if you were already dead or not. The bullet that had been lodged into your arm is not replaced with a scar which is a reminder that no matter how much they tried to cover it up, you'll always be out for their throats. When the sun sets and the streets are empty, you look around for ways to get into the protected palace. Revenge really isnt an easy feat.

"[Fake Name]! Did I hire you to doze off or work?", a deep voice yells out from the otherside of the sunlit room. You wipe a bit of sweat off your forehead, "coming boss", you jog over with a semi clean cloth to where your higher up is. "This is very dirty, how do you expect our customers to like it?", he points at one of the many displayed weapons. You notice a few specks of noticeable dust, "my apologies boss, I'll clean it all up right away", you slowly and carefully brush off the dust off of everything to make sure they look good enough for customers to stop by and look at, perhaps even buy. Your salary here isn't worth the work you're doing but as long as you can keep a roof over your head and food on the table, you'll be fine. It's way better than being on the streets afterall. This is almost your way of moving on. Even if it's not affective in the slightest.

After dusting off most of the armour, the doorbell chimes. A man walks in wearing armour. Someone who works for the royal family that's for sure. The boss is almost taken aback but keeps his composure, "W-welcome honorable soldier!", he instantly lightens up, a huge smile on his face while you freeze in place, not daring to face the man who has just entered the shop. The soldier doesn't say anything, only looking around, searching for something. "Do you have a blade with a handle made out of gems? Specifically diamonds", the boss is even more taken aback, as if the shop has anything that valuable. "My deepest apologies honorable soldier, I fear we do not have anything that fits that description", he frowns, "do you take custom orders?", "y-yes but I'm afraid we don't have the gem—", the man is quickly sileneced by the soldier putting a huge sack on the ground, from a small opening, the diamond shines just enough for everyone to see, including you. "His Royal Highness, the prince will be needing this next week for his engagement, he will be personally coming to pick it up", with that, the soldier turns his heels and walks out the door, the bell chiming once more as he does.

Something about this ignited the flame in you once more. This may be your last time.

"This means more work for us", well, more of work for you. With your mind elsewhere, you almost dont hear his voice. When you realize he did say something, you give a quick nod and head towards the jewelry shop to look at some gems. Your boss didn't need to ask you too anymore, you already knew. You already know this street like the back of your hand. It was an easy task reaching to your destination.

"Mr Albert, can you help make a handle out of diamonds?", you ask as you step into the shop. Even if you didn't intend it, the two of you had became pretty close but you know that won't last long. "Of course [Fake Name]! What kind are they?", you hand him the heavy bag of diamonds, shocking him as the diamond shines brightly. "Whose are these?", "the prince's, it's regarding his engagement to the princess Elena", Albert is even more taken aback as he grabs one of the glistening diamonds with one hand while the other holds a magnifying glass to it. "This is really high quality..!", you nod, "so, how long will it take?", "perhaps 5 days if I rush it."

5 days.

5 days is all you have to prepare. This might be your only chance. Even if it's half a percent, you're willing to take that risk. This is an opportunity you've been waiting for. You don't even know if the prince will be there or not, it's just something you'll have to count on.

The rest of your work day passes by as usual, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing unique, nothing to really make you feel content with life. Though, how could you? Even after all these years, you haven't given up on what you've been seeking ever since you were just a young teen. Whatever it is, it's still near impossible to achieve in these circumstances.

You take a seat looking out to the ocean, the sun setting as you do. The view reminds you a lot of the past. The very distant and unforgivable past. The little boy who had accompanied you all those years ago. The perpetrator.

Enough of the past. You're here to enjoy the sunset and ocean breeze. You sit in silence, relaxing your body and closing your eyes for a bit. Unfortunately though, even when the atmosphere is relaxing, something about it does annoy you a bit, the sound of people murmuring as they walk behind you, on the road. You can smell something sweet and know it's from the bakery not too far from your seat. This area used to be quiet, nice, full of trees and grass up until people decided they needed more land to use for shops. Everything changes overtime, nothing you can do about it.

After just a few minutes, the sun has dissapeared from sight, the moon taking its place. It's an everyday thing, nobody finds it unusual. Once the sun is gone, the moon takes over.

You look around, some shops are closing down while others stay open for the night. That's when you decide it's time for you to get some rest. No use staying here and dwelling on the past. It can't be changed anyways. As you're getting up, a carriage drives right by you, you catch a small glimpse of who the carriage is carrying. A mere glance from their midnight almost black eyes makes you shiver. It reminds you of the ocean at night and something more. Though, you can't quite place your finger on what it reminds you of.

Those 5 days pass by painstakingly slow. Too slow for you who wanted to have the prince's severed head on your shelf right this moment. When the day finally came, you waited in the shop. Acting as if it was any other day. Well, it sort of was. The only difference being the soon to be murder weapon concealed under your clothes. Your foot tapped impatiently, wanting to hear the sound of the townspeople murmuring or giggling, causing a ruckus. It would more than likely indicate the prince's arrival. "[Fake Name] why are you tapping your foot?", your boss asks with an annoyed expression. He hates the tapping sound, it drives him crazy. Though, when you turn around, wanting to answer or apologize for the action, the door opens. "Pardon me, I'm here to pick up a custom order?", a sweet and grace-laced voice calls out from just a mere meters from you. "O-oh yes of course your highness!", the old boss scrambles to the back, searching for where he had placed such an important order. Meanwhile, you stared bullets into the royal. This was it. Your chance. Maybe even your last.

As the prince takes a couple steps to admire the shop owner's handiwork, you took this as an opportunity to get closer. "Hm? I'm alright you don't need to show me around", you glance at the entrance, a few guards stationed to keep the prince safe but you wonder, why aren't any of them by his side? That's a stupid thing to do. Leaving their one and only heir all vulnerable to any and all attacks. With a swift move, you grab your weapon and direct it to the prince's throat, pinning him to the shelf. "Oh?", is all he lets out. An interested and excited 'oh' . The blade stops just a fraction from his skin, leaving him unharmed. Even as you try to press the blade closer, aiming to slice his soft skin, your strength is no match for his.

"Your highness! Here is your—", the old man nearly has a heart attack on the spot, nobody would blame him if he did. "[FAKE NAME]!? WHAT IN HEAVEN'S SAKE ARE YOU DOING!?", his screams are loud enough to reach the ears of the guards outside, prompting them to turn around and look at whatever was the matter. With no hesitation, they burst into the shop, almost breaking the glass door. "Drop your weapon immediately!", one of them says while the others surround you. "Step away and nobody gets hurt", their tone intimidating, unfortunately or fortunately, not quite intimidating enough for you. "Agh, fuckers", you turn to the guards, letting the prince out of your sights for just a splint second. A terrible mistake.

With a swift move, your blade is removed from your hands. "No need to worry, I'm afraid our attacker here is quite inexperienced", you look back at the prince who now has an even wider smirk. Little do you know, he's also scanning your features, taking it all in. "Huh, your face is familiar, that attitude, not so much", you glare at the man nad try to punch him using your non-dominant hand which is also stopped by him. "Y-y-your highness! I am incredibly sorry for the trouble he has caused!", the old man is clearly referring to you, "rest assured he's never allowed to work or come near here ever again!", he's almost crying, trembling with fear as to what the royal family might do to him. The prince seems to be thinking as he pauses for a few seconds before his eyes lit up. With a firm grip, the royal heir clasps both your hands in one of his, making sure you can't make any sudden attacks on him. With the now free hand, he stretches it to the boss, "where's my dagger?", and just like that, the boss is scrambling to hand it over. Once the prince had it in his hands, he looked over at your puzzled and angry face. "Is it pretty?", he holds up the dagger to your face. You think he's about to stab you with it so you remain silent. "I'm Prince Vaelius if you haven't already known", he scans you, "and you are..[Fake Name]?", he seems unsure of it himself, wanting confirmation from you but you don't give it. "Fuck you and fuck your royal family bullshit", you spat out with venom. Most would be incredibly angry by now but not him. He finds it amusing how you have a vendetta against him and he doesn't even know you!

Vaelius takes a step, then another, and another towards the exit. The guards open the door for him, wondering what his next move would be. As the carriage door opens, you're thrown into it, followed by the prince who climbs in immediately after you. You try to kick the man but all that does is amuse the royal sicko. "Let me..off this dammed carriage!", you scream and try to kick once more, only for your ankle to be grabbed by Vaelius who pulls you closer. Your leg now sitting on his shoulder as the carriage moves slowly. "Your life's in my hands now, [Name]."

"[Name], meet Prince Vaelius", your mother, the Queen of Aldoria introduces you to the little boy infront of you. He looks about 10. Now why would you befriend such a young boy when you can play with others your age? "Go on, talk to his highness", she gives you a gentle push which makes you a bit annoyed. The little boy looks up at you, his midnight eyes almost glowing as he looks into yours. It's as if he's mesmerized by you. "H-hi!", his voice is still high pitched unlike yours. You're in your early teens so it's been a while since you've heard an annoying high pitched voice. Nonetheless, you have to be nice. "Hello, I'm [Name] [Last Name]", you reach out to shake his hand but you mom quickly puts your hand down, "it's impolite, give a little bow", she whispers in your ear to which you oblige. You give the smaller boy a bow, to which he smiles sweetly at. "Mn! I'm Vaelius!", he excitedly replies.

Arriving at the place you never thought you'd ever step foot in ever again, you feel a sense of dread wash over. However, this feeling was soon followed by anger and frustration.

The prince steps out first and holds out his hand, anticipating yours to grab his. Instead, you ignore the outstretched hand and get out yourself. Dusting your clothes as your feet touch the ground. "Are you repulsed by me?—", as he asks that, your hand grabs his collar, glaring at him, "I won't cause a ruckus as long as you keep your hands off of me", "but you're the one touching me, are you not?", he looks down at the hand on his collar which you quickly pull back, turning your attention back to the magnificent castle infront of you.

With guards surrounding the both of you, you are brought into the castle, the prince never leaving your side. As the palace doors open, there are already maids taking the prince's coat off, making him feel at home while you look at him in dissapointment. Does he not even know how to take off his coat? Anywho, you look around, taking it all in. It's been years since you've last been here. "Do you like your new home?", "home?", you instantly turn around and ask, the maids retreating to their positions. Vaelius waltz towards you, a cunning look on his face that makes you want to punch it off him, "yes, you're marrying into this family, [Name]", he takes your hand, "didn't I say not to touch me!—", Vaelius places a peck on the back of your hand, "you wouldn't want to dissapoint the entire empire, now would you?", his eyes show a glint of obsession, though it passes faster than it appeared. For some reason, you can't pry your eyes from the lovestruck prince. "What are you saying...", you're suspicious of Vaelius, just what in heaven's sake is he talking about.

Vaelius gestures for one of his servants to come over. She's holding a blade with both hands which Vaelius grabs, handing it to you, "this is for you, my dear fiancé", his voice alluring and almost commanding you to take the blade in his hands. Despite his warm smile, the air felt heavy with an unspoken tension. Neither one of you wanted to lose this unspoken battle. "Or shall I remind you of how you tried to hurt the one and only heir?", his eyes open to look at you with a fierce look in them, you feel sick to your stomach. You hate him, you hate his family but this might be your only chance in surviving and carrying out your revenge. Lose the battle but win the war as they say.

You grab the blade part, bleeding a bit as it slices into your hand, "then, I'll gladly accept, my prince", you look at him with glaring eyes as he stares back with a smile, "aren't you sweet? Come up with more nicknames before our wedding, won't you?", he gestures again to the maids and in a few seconds, those same maids are guiding you to your new room. Temporary of course. You'd be sharing the same bed as the prince soon, patience.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

"At least the room's nice", you mumble to yourself after seeing where you'll be sleeping for the next few days or weeks. The maids all exit the room, with one letting you know that if you ever need something, to just ring the bell near your bed. You try to take it all in. What you did, what you will do and what he will do. The prince is unpredictable, making you all the more uneasy and wary of him, but for now, you should just enjoy a lavish lifestyle. Just like all those years ago.

"The prince is a beauty isn't he?", your mother catches you off guard. The two of you are sitting on a bench in the garden while ththe prince is with the emperor, discussing a few things with your father. "What do you mean, mother?", you ask in return and she giggles, "don't think I haven't noticed your eyes constantly following his figure now", your eyes widen, face visibly flushed. You can't say anything or rebuttal her words as you know it's true. She notices this and turns to you, a sweet smile on her face, "you might as well ask him out now before he gets snatched up by a girl or perhaps another guy", she jokes but sees that your expression is uneasy, "sweetie, I don't care who you like, you're allowed to love whoever, I mean, you're a teen now! I'm practically a soon to be grandma", she laughs and you do too. The small blonde prince turns to look at you with a huge innocent grin on his face. Little did you know, the emperor had noticed this and glared bullets into you.

"[Name]~?", Vaelius calls out, leaning a bit too close to you for comfort. You throw him off of you immediately, knocking him onto the carpeted ground, "ouch!", he rubs the back of his head which had collided with the ground, something in you compells you to lend him a hand. So, you extend one for him to take and he does so. "Why did you sneak up to me like that!?", you ask, furious. He stands up, almost towering over you, you don't remember him being this tall.."I wasn't, you were just spacing out", he sighs, looking like a hurt puppy who got scolded at by its owner, "don't pull that face and why are you here anyways?", he perks up at the question, "well, you are my soon to be husband, it's only natural I'd introduce you to my father", "I've already met hi-", "no time to lose!", he drags you out the room and into the hallways.

"Father! Meet my fiancé!", Vaelius pushes open the giant door to the emperor's office where Emperor Adrien sat. "What do you mean, son?—", his words are almost cut off as you enter the room, looking like you've been forced to be here, "who is that.", the emperor rises from his seat, looking down at you but not his son, "my fiancé", Vaelius happily says, holding your hand up. "Vaelius Luminayre. What in the world are you thinking", his tone is calm but you can tell he's beyond furious with his one and only son. "I'm perfectly capable of choosing my spouse, am I not, father?", Vaelius is passive aggressive with his words, daring the emperor to oppose his marriage with [Name]. "And what about Princess Elena", he is glaring at you, as if decades of hatred is surfacing once more. You can only look on in silence as the argument between father-son is going on. "Oh, her? You can tell her family we won't be needing them anymore", Vaelius says as if it's the most obvious and easiest thing in the world, ignoring the fact that they had been engaged for half a year. The families had hoped for Vaelius to take her as his empress but now..things have taken a turn for the worse.

"Vaelius. You two will not have my blessing", the emperor thought his son would listen after his little threat but that was far from true. "I didn't come to ask for your blessing, father", Vaelius slyly says, you can almost see an irk mark forming on his cheek. Emperor Adrien is shocked by this response, "Do you understand that you WILL NEVER become emperor if you marry that wretched man!? Has he corrupted your mind!?", the emperor yells and throws a vase your way, only for it to be blocked by Vaelius, what have you even gotten yourself into!? "Keep telling yourself that, old man", the prince turns around, taking you with him and exiting the room as yet another vase flies across the room, hitting the closed door.

This was only the start of your new life.

After that incident, your life became...easier? Well, it was all thanks to Vaelius anyways. Somehow, a few days after Vaelius met with his father to discuss about the marriage further, the emperor suddenly approved of your marriage. With the condition that the marriage would have to be postponed until 3 months later. This was also an opportunity for you to get rid of the royal family and not be tied to them in any way. You just had to figure out when was the perfect time for your plan to be executed.

And that moment came sooner than you expected. It was midnight, you knew everyone in the palace, other than the royal guards, were fast asleep by this point. The palace eerily quiet, the atmosphere almost horror-like as you roam the hallways to look for the emperor's chambers. To your utter shock and surprise, two guards lay dead on the ground of their own blood infront of the cracked open door. "Holy shit..", you cover your mouth. Even though you had seen this countless times...this time was different, it reminded you so much of that night

You also wondered, who could have beaten you to it? With your curiosity growing with each passing moment, you decide to take a peek. Avoiding the blood and corpse, you look through the small crack of the door. Your stomach drops at the sight. The moonlight shines on the perpetrator's blonde hair, in his left hand, the head of the now dead emperor, a blade on his right. The floor and walls covered in blood, the perpetrator himself is also covered in thick red liquid. Your eyes widen as the man notices someone staring at him. He turns to smirk at you, revealing himself as Vaelius Luminayre.

"Come in, why don't you?", he beckons you in, your legs move towards him, obeying his command. Once you reached him, your legs give out, falling into his arms as the bloodied head drops onto the ground with a loud thud. "Well aren't you so sweet? Falling for me like this", your head rests on Vaelius' shoulder as he holds you by your waist. You're almost frozen in place seeing what the prince, no, your fiancé, has done to the emperor. "V-Vae...", "sshh", he hushes you, "I did this for us, [Name], you've wanted this from the beginning, haven't you?", he chuckles in a low voice, a terrifying laugh. "Now we can get married the second the sun rises, isn't that amazing?", he holds your hand and makes you face him, lifting your chin to stare into his eyes as his bore into yours. "I'll be yours and you'll be mine, how's that?", with nothing left to say, you nod in agreement, did you want this from the start..?

"[Name] I'm gonna marry you one day!", the young boy says while pouting. Another lady had been flirting with you prior before this and unfortunately the young prince had witnessed it all. He was not happy. "W-what!?", you're taken aback by his suddenness, "you can't marry me..!", you yell to which he pouts even more, "why? Is it because I'm not a pretty lady!?", Vaelius seems like he's on the verge of crying so you give in, "o-okay then, I'll marry you", his mood takes a turn for the better and he smiles, "no take backs!"

The Prince always gets what he wants. Whether that's the title of Emperor or your hand in marriage. Today marks the day he gains it all. Not only is he the emperor by law, you are also now the Imperial Husband. A title that will be bestowed to you in a couple hours time.

The wedding ceremony was nothing short of grand. Everyone was invited to witness their new emperor's marriage to the former Prince of the [Last Name] house. Most cheered for the couple while some were dissapointed. Oh the look in Princess Elena and her family's eyes, priceless in the eyes of the now Emperor Vaelius. The wedding itself was held in the Royal Palace. Usually it'd be held at a church but Vaelius wanted it to be even more grand so he chose his palace. You even had a custom made outfit fit for the occasion, a pristine white dominated suit with the colors of your house. This was Vaelius' way in honoring the late King and Queen of your kingdom. You hated him and still do probably but you can't deny that what the both of you had in the past, still remains in the present.

Even though you didnt know whether he had been involved or not, something in you wanted him to be involved in your family's massacre, at least then..you can avenge them still, with the former emperor dead and all. You can't fail them but, is it worth murdering an innocent man for? The man whom you had fallen for all those years ago no less. In this marriage, you can't tell if it's either unrequited or requited love.

"Your Imperial Highness..!", a commoner girl says as you and your now husband pass by the crowds of civilians. They're all begging to get your attention, screaming, calling out and even crying, all so that you'd notice them. Maybe theyre trying to gain your favor or maybe they simply find you captivating, Vaelius sure understands where they're coming from. He finds you absolutely irresistible and it would be natural for the public to be captivated by your beauty too. So long as they know their place in his empire. You turn to face the girl who called out for you, her face full of joy despite her shabby clothing and dirty appearance. Why was she so happy just to get a glimpse of you? You'll have to get used to this life now.

What you probably can't get used to is your new life with the Emperor Vaelius. The moment the two of you stepped into your new shared chambers, Vaelius wasted no time in pushing you onto the bed, "Vaelius! What are you doing!?", "we're married now, aren't we? Let's spend the first night like husband and wife", he licks his lips at the sight of you sprawled on the bed. He's been waiting all this time for your return and his want for you can no longer be suppressed.

Without a second thought, Vaelius attacks your neck, littering it with kisses and hickeys. The pain was bearable, but the way he licked you really did send shivers down your spine, this sensation is very new to you. Instead of pushing him off, your hands pull him closer, something compells you to. It's as if the you from all those years ago came back, wanting to hold the now Emperor Vaelius. You close your eyes in pleasure, containing the moans threatening to escape your mouth. "You like this, huh", he speaks against your sensitive skin, making you all the more turned on. "M..mhm", you manage to get out. Vaelius then pulls back, looking at your mesmeric expression. "My...beloved [Name]...", your name rolls off his tongue over and over again as if he's afraid of the possibility of not being able to utter that name anymore. "Never leave me again", it sounds more like a demand rather than a plea. Before you could respond, he took both your hands with his left, his lips pressed against yours while his right hand is wandering down to your pants. Stopping to unzip them. If this was any other piece of clothing, he would have ripped it open. But since it's your wedding outfit, he'd like to keep it intact.

With his hand rubbing your cock, you reach out for said hand, wanting it to stop as you already feel to much pleasure. Never in your life would you have even thought that your first love would be touching you like this, as your husband no less. "Hm? Do you not like it?", Vaelius knows you like it, he just wants to hear those words come out your mouth. "Or would you like it more back there?", his hand wanders towards your hole, a finger pressing on the entrance as you moan just by his touch. His finger stays firmly pressed against your needy hole for a few seconds, enough for you to whine, "Vaelius..just put it in already!", a command he obeys as he immediately inserts a finger into your hole, you close your eyes due to the unfamiliar feeling, it feels weirdly pleasureful. Something in you wants more, something bigger, but you dont voice that out. Though, you neednt say anything for him to know what you want. He pushes in a second finger in, making you cling onto him.

"..ah...NGH...!?", you almost let out a loud moan as you feel your protaste being stimulated, closing your eyes in the process. Vaelius smirks, enjoying the way you're turning into putty under him. He didn't say anything as you moan out. Though, it was clear just by looking at his face, that he was thoroughly enjoying the lewd noises coming from you. Without wasting anymore time, he removed his fingers from your hole.

You felt empty, until something else pressed against your wet hole. Fuck! He's huge..! was your first thought as you took a good look at his lubed cock. You didn't even dare to estimate the size of it, "it won't fit..", a reaction which makes the emperor chuckle, "your body was made for me, of course it will fit", before you could respond or let out a snarky comment, Vaelius thrusts himself into you, gripping your waist as he does. You arch your back, eyes widen at the sudden intrusion, "f-fUcK!", you yell out, "you're so tight..", Vaelius was clearly enjoying the way your hole clenched around him. You, on the other hand, wasn't used to this. Tears form in your eyes but they dont fall. When you look back at the blonde, his face is red, seemingly lost in thought himself as he stares at his cock halfway in your hole. You felt his grip tighten and without warning, he slams his cock as deep as possible inside your ass. You let out a loud scream-like moan. The pleasure and pain hitting you all at once, "my dick feels...so good", he leans down to kiss you. You moan into the kiss, him exploring your mouth with his tongue, making you a mess as drool trickles down your chin.

You were getting used to his size due to him staying still but then Vaelius suddenly pulls out, leaving only the tip inside before thrusting it all in. "Ack..! Ah!", you moan as he thrusts in and out, leaving almost no room for you to breathe as he part his lips from yours, focusing on pounding your ass and filling it up with cum. You on the other hand, felt your eyes rolling back, your whole face flushed as you had a firm grip on the bed sheets. Your moans became louder than before, turning your now husband even more. His pupils were practically heart shaped as he looked at your messy form being fucked so hard and rough you look as if you're losing yourself.

You could see and feel the way Vaelius thrusted his cock in and out of you, your lower belly bulging whenever he went all the way inside. This sight made Vaelius all the more horny. Soon enough, he felt as if he was at his limit, "I'm gonna cum...!", as he said that, you grew more aware of your own orgasm. The more he pounded your hole, the more you felt close to your climax. "Cum with me, darling..!", he said inbetween grunts and gasps. Your body convulsed as you let out your first load in a while. Not only that, but the feeling of Vaelius' thick and warm seed filling up your hole made it all the more pleasureful for you. Unplugging his cock from your hole, his cum drips down onto the bed but the both of you couldn't care less in this moment. Lost in each other.

After a moment of silence and rest, Vaelius was the first to speak, "how was it?", "...well it was my first time so—"You're a virgin??", "...", you gave no further comment, regretting ever letting those words out your mouth. This makes Vaelius laugh and blush, knowing he was your first love and the one who took your virginity, "then...I'll make sure your body gets so used to my cock that nobody else's can satisfy your needs, I've got to make a good first impression for you", he thows himself onto you, wrapping his arms from behind you as you face the other way, "just a warning though, I have many needs and wont stop once I start"

And oh boy was that true.

Not even a month later, and he's already bending you over the table. The official meeting table. With nobles around the both of you as he took the farthest and tallest seat. Well, at this very moment, he' standing as he as his cock all the way inside of you. Your face buried in your arms, not wanting to face the tense nobles. Some are even turned on by the sight of you getting dominated infront of them. But, if any of them stared at you for too long, two glades would come flying towards their eyeballs. Afterall, the only one who should stare at you is Vaelius. "Regarding these problems, whose idea was it?", despite his cock being warmed by you, his personality was far from it. He was cold by nature, only warm towards you. You breathe heavily, embarrassed to be seen like this. The once crown prince, heir to the Aldoria Kingdom is now being bent over by the Emperor Vaelius, full of cock as the man towering over you holds important papers, dicussing as if he's not all the way inside you right now. "I-it was mine, your majesty", Vaelius lets out a dissapointed sigh, even you knew what this meant.

In an instant, he sits down on his seat, bringing you with him. This makes his dick sink even deeper into your hole, grazing your prostate ever so slightly that it makes your hole clench, making him grunt. He was clearly unhappy with the decisions the nobles made under his father's reign. With a hand on your hips, he moves you nack and forth, grinding on his cock. Vaelius somehow doesn't let out a sound that would make him seem weak infront of these powerful men but you do. You moan and writhe in his touch, his cock so deep inside and hitting your prostate so good. "What made you come up with such a stupid and revolting idea", even if you aren't able to see it, just by his voice, you could tell he had a sinister look on his face, looking down on the noblemen. "I-I apologize your majesty", you watch as thr powerful men infront of you scared out of their wits when face to face with Vaelius. Though, you didn't pay their reactions any attention as you were too busy focusing on Vaelius' big cock inside.

With his strong hand, he lifts you up until they can see his cock halfway in before pushing you back down on it, he repeats this over and over again. Some of the noblemen got hard but dared not to touch themselves, but especially to you. Less they had a torture wish. "...and you call yourselves powerful? Smart? Hah!", Vaelius lets out a sarcastic laugh, it was loud enough to make them all tremble. "Your majesty..we—", "Silence.", a single word and they all felt their bodies shivering. "Get out of my face. I'll give you all a week.", they knew what he meant by this, he was goving them mercy. All of them got up, synchronized, bowing and thanking the emperor for his mercy before scurrying out the door.

This leaves you alone with the angry emperor. You wondered what would happen to you. Of course, you should have expected to be fucked dumb. Vaelius knew how to hit your prostate just right to get you screaming and slobbering over his cock. He drops the papers on the ground as of they're useless to him and holds your hips instead. You're turned around to face him and your arms wrap around his neck, "your expression...so cute", you weren't given a chance to respond, as if you could in your condition. He lifted you up and down on his cock extra rough. Those noblemen pissed him off and you're the only person who can calm him down. Using your hole. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the entire room. Even as it's air conditioned, the two of you sweat due to the intensity of it. Your prostate was basically being abused at this point, you couldn't think of anything but his cock, your brain all mushy now because of it.

Even as you came, he still continued his rough thrusts. Making you feel even more stimulated due to how sensitive you are after coming. "Take all of my cum inside, [Name], take it all..!", he says before coming inside you. Your head resting on his chest as he hold your waist. After a few minutes, he pulls out and helps you stand before bending you over the desk once more. "I love you [Name], please take all of me", in his eyes, the look of love and lust combined. The young boy, of whom you had once found annoying, has now become the man you despise. The one you wanted to rid the world of. Yet as fate foresaw it, he now stands as the dangerous emperor who has forcibly stolen your heart. But will you let him have it?

Took two months but here it is yall (Im so sorry😞)

[magpies-gold]

I have both eyes and they're both technically functional but I still relate to a lot of this because I also have monocular vision. In my case, the problem is with my brain, actually. It can only process images from one eye at a time because of a defect when I was born that required surgical intervention. Even after the fix, my brain just never learned that I still had two eyes, so it has no capacity to combine the image data like normal people do. As a result, I have no depth perception and I have a dominant eye that I use 90% of the time.

I also have visual snow that's especially noticeable when I close my eyes and at night in the dark, but as there isn't a lot of research on visual snow, I'm not sure if that's related or coincidental. In case people want to know a bit more about life as a person with monocular vision in a two-eyeballs kind of situation: I have a weird trick that I can do that seems to astound folks with binocular vision: I can consciously switch eyes. It's like flexing a muscle and I can decide to use the left one or the right in the same way that I can choose to wave my left or right hand. Trying to use both at the same time just doesn't work, though. If I really try, there's just this pressure feeling in my head, like I'm trying to imagine a colour that doesn't exist, but I can't make the two work together at all. This is likely just a me thing but my non-dominant eye is much worse than my dominant eye, and its been getting worse over the course of my life. It's still useful, but extremely near-sighted, so much so that it alone is legally blind and makes my optometrist and all their staff wince. But I can read very, very tiny close-up writing with it, so it comes in handy when I'm doing things like reading. My dominant eye is a little near sighted but not much. It's pretty stable. Also probably just a me thing: I have one lazy eye, but it relates to the monocular vision. It's my dominant one. If I use the non-dominant eye, you can actually tell when I've switched to it because my dominant eye "switches off" and rolls a little bit up and out. It was worse when I was a kid (my mom saying "Meghan, are you looking at me?" was a common thing) but it still happens nowadays. My non-dominant eye isn't lazy, so when I'm looking around normally with my dominant eye you can't tell that there's anything different about me than your average Joe. It's a mostly invisible disability for me (and I still feel strange calling it a disability because it's just how I've always seen, and yet here I am making a list of complexities regarding my vision, so....) A final possibly-just-me thing is that I hold my pencil like a space alien and always have. The reasoning I've given since I was a kid was because of which eye I use, I wouldn't be able to see what the end of my pencil was doing if I were holding it "correctly", so I draw and write like this:

(Video here, if you want to see the rest of that: https://www.tumblr.com/magpies-gold/699322866172346368?source=share) Can confirm from the above that head-tilt is a thing when one has monocular vision, even with two eyes. Because of the head tilt, I also get people startling me on my non-dominant side a lot, possibly because with my "blind" side tilted back and away from what I'm looking at, they think I'll see them sooner since that eye is closer to looking behind me. Therefore they don't think they're sneaking up on me. That is, right up until they appear, as if by magic, in my field of vision and I go AAAA!

Depth perception problems that I personally encounter: I don't drive so I don't have a lot to add there except that trying to learn scared me too much to proceed. I was not comfortable with how much slower my reaction time was on my left side or how I couldn't accurately judge where exactly objects in front of me were, so I gave it up in my teenage years in favour of a good pair of sneakers and a transit pass. But I will loudly say that going down stairs sucks. I am very opinionated on how much I love and appreciate when stairs have the bright yellow stripe at the edge, or some other marker to aim for. If stairs are all one uniform colour I am hesitant as hell putting my feet down because I can't tell how far a drop it is. I'm slow on descents on unfamiliar stairs and I desperately need the railing to hold on to. Going up stairs isn't bad because I have other visual cues to help me, and I'm much faster there. I also don't do well on really uneven terrain, like the rocky shores we have on beaches here. Watching my fiancé go hopping and skipping over rocks like a mountain goat gives me light wistful despair because I know if I tried that I would miscalculate almost immediately and break all my bones. My tactic is to get low and go slow if I have to cross anything where distances get tricky to guesstimate. I become a crab. I also have friends who know to slow down and will also let me hold their hand (bless). I do have peripheral vision ghosts on the non-dominant side even with two eyes. The most common thing I see is ghost cats. I'll see my cat jump up on a counter in my peripheral vision only to turn and find nothing there. Sometimes my brain will also suggest there might be a person walking in my peripheral vision. It's just overcompensating for what it has to fill in the blanks on. I can't catch things that are thrown at me except by sheer luck. Sports like baseball and badminton were brutal in high school and I got into many a verbal confrontation with my teacher while trying to explain that I had a very good reason to be afraid of the projectile coming for my face. I told him more than once to go close one eye and try it for himself and see what it's like. No peeking! I can't peek. Similarly, I can't fly a drone. I learned that very quickly when I accidentally flew Tim's full tilt into a wall. Oops. >> Drone was okay. I, on the other hand, was absolutely boggled by how I just could not tell where it was in space until boom, I'd crashed it. And that's because another thing is that I was personally born the way that I am, so I'm fully acclimated to it. I know nothing else, and I don't notice all the micro calculations that I do to translate my 2D view into 3D space so that I can move around in it. At least, I don't until I have a situation where the object I'm working with suddenly has no context, like a drone in mid-air, and then I suddenly notice my limitations. 3D movies largely don't work for me. They're basically just regular 2D movies involving stupid glasses. -shrug- Finally, video games with a lot of icons around the edges of the screen are a nightmare for me because I can't see all of my monitor at once. Again: slow as balls reaction time because I have to re-calibrate and turn my head a lot. The concept of a wide-screen monitors makes me go "Jesus, why?"

writing advice for characters with a missing eye: dear God does losing an eyes function fuck up your neck. Ever since mine crapped out I've been slowly and unconsciously shifting towards holding my head at an angle to put the good eye closer to the center. and human necks. are not meant to accommodate that sorta thing.

[sturnlsstuff]

MASK OFF | ghostface!matt x fem!reader

— warnings: smut with plot, dom!matt, sub!reader, knife kink, unprotected p in v, rough sex, kinda mean!matt, edging, cursing, crying, dirty talk, pet names, mention of murder, - english isn't my first language!!

part one | part two

~~~~~~

"n-no!" you cry out with a pout, when for the fourth time matt stops the movements of his fingers, pulling them out. your orgasm just out of reach again. he was not giving you the relief you so desperately needed, practically edging you, making you squirm under him, while he was watching you with a smirk. you knew you were screwed for tonight, but you wouldn't think he could be so cruel. "please!" you whine, giving him the best puppy eyes you got, but matt only let's out a sarcastic laugh, "now y're fuckin' beggin', huh? interesting"

"i didn't do anything, i swear!" you mewl, tears running down your cheeks from the frustration. matt kneels on the mattress between your legs, grabbing the knife that was laying beside you and holding your wet folds spread with his two fingers. he puts the handle of the knife inside your dripping hole, starting pulling it in and out with unholy speed, while you were gripping the sheets, moaning loudly, your walls clenching around the thing. "i told you to keep your pretty mouth shut, didn't i?" he watches how your pussy sucks in the handle of the knife, while the sharp part was slightly digging into his hand with each movement, but he didn't care right now. not when he was able to see you like this. "your folks are downstairs, remember?"

he just smirks when you put your hand over your mouth, legs trembling when you're closer to the edge again, but he slows down, making it all go away, "fuck!" you squeeze your eyes causing new tears to fall down. you could feel his painfully hard cock straining against your inner thigh. "i'm telling the truth, i didn't say anything! please just let me—"

you cut yourself off with a muffled scream, when he quickly throws the knife onto the mattress and instead slams into you, making sure you feel his dick deep. matt doesn't give you any time to adjust, pulling almost all the way out, before going back in and starting thrusting into you.

it wasn't a secret that matt was pissed off. really mad. since the meeting in the park, he called you three times already and all three times you picked up and let him inside your room, when your parents were gone. he would do his job and leave as always. you were starting to get sick of it, finding yourself being more amused by him with each day and less scared, what was stupid for matt whenever he thought about this. you also caught yourself often fantasizing about him without the mask, even had a wet dream about it earlier this day. you had no courage to ask him to take it off or even if he'd agree to it. though matt wasn't stupid and he noticed the little details, how you would slightly put your hand on his mask, but you wouldn't dare to take if off without his permission, which made him feel somehow proud that you listen to him.

so you spent the whole day trying to distract yourself from thinking about that dream and him in general. at some point your phone rang, you picked up immediately after seeing who's number it was and that's how it all.. started.

"hello?"

"you think you're so slick?" by his voice you could quickly say he was mad. he was actually completely pissed off, feeling betrayed. matt really liked you, craved you and would never want to hurt you even if sometimes... sometimes he wasn't really capable to control himself. "what?" your eyebrows frowned with confusion, while he continued, "y'wanna make me lose my shit? wanna be next?"

"what are you talkin' about?" you asked confused, hearing his low chuckle that makes goosebumps appear on your skin, "you really gonna act all stupid now?" there was a moment of silence as you thought what possibly you could've done, but your head was empty. meanwhile matt was frustrated, grabbing the bridge of his nose and trying to calm himself down, "-- make sure your window's open, i'll be there in 10."

"but my parents—" you started, but he was quick to cut you off, "i don't give a fuck." the call ended, leaving you feeling uneasy and confused, but either way you left your window open and locked your door, just in case if one of your parents would want to come in.

matt was in fact watching your every move, no matter what time of the day it was, he knew what you were doing. he'd watch you hanging out in the cafe with your friends, seeing you and your mom shopping, eating dinner in some fancy restaurant or studying in the library. so he really did know everything and sometimes he didn't necessarily like the things he saw. like yesterday he saw you talking to a cop. he wouldn't think much of it, even if it gave him anxiety, but then this morning a police car drove through his neighborhood, even though this had never happened before. so his assumption was that you just betrayed him. maybe you wanted to set a trap for him? he thought about it for half a day, trying to calm down, but in vain, the anxiety and a sense of betrayal mixed together, creating an explosive mix of emotions. so he was really fucking pissed off and his goal for tonight was to make sure you know how mad he actually was.

the wet, squelching sound coming from you was filling the room and making you heat with embarrassment, while he continues pounding into you really fast. matt grins feeling you squeezing him so tight, it was almost painful, "why'd you do that, huh? got bored of my dick? wanted to make me fuckin' angry?" he rasps, holding your hips when you can't stay still, desperately shaking your head but not being able to say anything, only moans and soft sobs leaving your lips at how good he was making you feel. "i- oh! i'm..." that's when he pulls out just as you were almost coming, causing more tears stream down your face. he flips you over, your face pressed into the pillow. while still holding your hips, he lifts them up and enters you again, immediately going with the same pace as before.

"you're too loud", he bites on his lip, holding back a groan when he feels you clenching around him. despite his anger, he loves watching you struggle while he continues thrusting into you, his cock hitting your g-spot with every move. matt's pride gets the better of him when he sees you like this, knowing that he's the one making you feel so good. there's no mercy from him tonight when he continues bottoming out inside of you on that fast pace. broken cries leaving you have him weak, getting him closer to the edge, "'m tryin' to understand... but i really can't-- fuckkkk, yeah, keep squeezin' me like that..."

the way he fucks you this time reminds you of the first time. you could literally feel the passion and fascination in every of his thrust, but there was also so much anger which made you shiver. you were trying to hold onto literally anything, gripping your sheets, pillows, even the headboard that was hitting your wall with each movement. you'll definitely have some explanation to do for your parents later.

matt watches how your ass bounce, while his cock continue slamming into you and that sight makes his hips stutter, a low moan leaving him when he fills you up with his cum. he slows down only for a second to ride out his high, making you whine in response, before pulling out and flipping you over again, just to see your hair sticking to your forehead and tears on your flushed cheeks. he looks at your hole leaking cum with fascination, his ego immediately boosted.

towering over you, propping himself on his hands on each side of your head, matt looks at you intensely, which makes you literally feel his gaze on you, so you open your eyes. his mask inches away from your face, making your breath hitch in your throat. you really wanted to see his face, know what he looks like and not only know his body from the waist down. you wanted to see all of him and he was able to notice that in your eyes.

he grabs you by the jaw, squeezing your cheeks, "why'd you talk to that cop, huh?" the tone of his voice was low and rough, but dripping with passion. seeing you like this turned him on even more, while you still felt the desire to be satisfied, his release and your own arousal dripping down your inner thighs. "'n' don't gimme that bullshit again, 'bout not doin' anythin', cause i saw you, sweetheart."

"i swear..." you repeat again, shaking your head while he keeps his grip on your cheeks, making your words a bit muffled. "-- he started asking me questions, 'cause he found out about me and that guy you... you know..."

"killed?" matt tilts his head to the side, narrowing his eyes and trying to process your words. you nod weakly, while new tears runned down your face, he felt it against his skin. "i told him i don't know anything, that i only met with this guy once and nothing happened between us, that i didn't really know him..."

"and he believed you?" his tone was dripping with irony, making your heart skip a beat. "i forced myself to cry and everything, i pretended to be all sad about it and he left me alone, i promise he..."

"pretended to be sad, huh?" matt is quick to cut you off, focusing too much on one thing you said.

it wasn't a secret that you were a little bit insane, matt was aware of it since you'd let him into your room that one night. you also weren't really scared of him. well, maybe a little bit when he was mad, like for example now, but it was making you more horny than afraid, which only confirmed that you were almost as crazy as he was.

you didn't even liked that guy really, he was just a distraction from the fact you liked the hookups with the ghostface a little too much. you weren't able to get to know him, since matt was quick to move him out of the way. though you found yourself being careless to his death, since finding on his phone that he only wanted to use you anyway, just like matt said.

"yeah, i... uh, i mean, if i cared about him and his death, i wouldn't meet with you again—"

"and why was there a police car drivin' around my neighborhood, hm?" matt wanted to believe you, knowing that if you won't convince him of your innocence, then... well, things may go in a direction he doesn't want them to go. "it... it has to be a coincidence..." you swallow nervously, trying not to look away. it was the truth, you really didn't say anything, not really figuring out why. you could set him off fast, matt knew it too, but he just craved you so much, he couldn't bring himself to leave you alone.

"is it now?" he whispers into your ear, moving his tip along your dripping folds, before teasing you with stopping at you entrance, knowing how desperate and unsatisfied you still were. you whine in response, "do you think i'd just let you into my room, if it wasn't a... oh, shit—"

with one sudden movement he entered you again, starting moving with the same hard pace as before, which made you moan out loud. "c'mon, sweetheart, keep... keep talkin'... tell me more, make me believe you, yeah? fuckk, 'cause i wanna... i wanna believe you—" a low groan escapes his lips when you wrap your legs around his hips, making him go even deeper.

"i... didn't care about that guy anyway—" the sounds of you two rasping, the choked moans leaving you and skin slipping against each other filling the room, the wet sound coming from you now louder. "i lied for you, i could tell them everything about us, b-but i... oh!" matt speeds up, making your stomach drop over and over again, but you continue, "-- i... i lied for you even if i don't really know you either, i didn't even see your face..."

a hoarse, low laugh escapes matt, "oh, really now? you tryin' to make me feel bad f'you or somethin'?"

"what?! n-no! i just..."

"i don't think you understand what it means if i take that mask off." his thrusts started being more urgent and hard, immediately making you clench around him and finally getting the release you so desperately needed. matt curses under his breath, feeling how your sticky walls suck him in while you cry out of pleasure, desperately gripping the sheets to hold onto something. "shiiittt... here you go... making this pretty little mess on my cock..."

he doesn't change his pace at all causing you to whine and making it impossible for you to stay still. matt shifts, putting your legs over his shoulders, gripping your thighs tightly, this new angle allowing him to hit your g-spot more intensely. the overstimulation hurts so good, you can't keep your eyes open.

"y'really wanna see my face, huh?" he grunts softly at the feeling of you squeezing him so hard, "but that... changes everything for you... mmhm, oh fuck—"

this whole time matt was sure that he would never show you his identity, knowing that it would complicate things and if something went wrong between you two then... he would have to deal with it in his own crazy way, doing things that he wouldn't want to do to you. but there was something more inside him, a bit of insecurity about what you would say, whether you would actually like him or if you would just immediately kick him out the door and never speak to him again. and this mask hid his shyness, without it he felt so... exposed. yet a part of him wanted to see your reaction, wanted to know what will you do.

"are you sure?" he asks while still pounding into you, but you're so lost in pleasure, you don't even know what he's asking about. "'cause y'know, sweetheart... you won't be able to get rid of me completely, once i do this..."

hearing your quiet, weak "please", matt slows down just slightly and before he could overthink his decision, he grabs the bottom edge of the mask and pulls it off in one swift movement. and that's when you see him.

the moment your eyes meet, he freezes and stops moving inside of you, his fingers pressing into your thigh a little more like he was still trying to maintain control, even if his heart was pounding in his chest. you look at him with wide, aroused eyes, feeling your breath was taken away. he was so... handsome. beautiful. it seemed like you could say he was an angel and it wouldn't be the least bit dramatic.

you didn't know what to focus on, you were so overwhelmed by his beauty. his facial features, that sharp, defined jaw, the prominent cheekbones... but his very blue eyes were doing the main job here, his gaze was so intense, it made you feel small. and those pink lips that just looked so kissable.

now when he was finally without the ghostface mask, you were able to notice more details, like for example the silver chain on his neck, the earrings or how his messy brown hair looked so fluffy, making you want to run your hand through it.

and also the fact that you've already seen him before. now you remembered where you know his voice from. "matt?" you finally speak up quietly, almost hesitatingly, but he hears you and it's enough to make his breath hitch in his throat.

"you..." his voice cracks slightly, a small frown appearing between his eyebrows. clearing his throat, he continues, "you, uh.. remember?"

if you remember? how could you not? that one party a few weeks ago where a guy approached you halfway through. you remember that he was so... almost shy? you were talking like crazy while he was mostly just staring, but he introduced himself. matt. you remembered him because he had such nice tattoos, you couldn't stop staring at his arm.

"yeah, i.... of course i remember."

for him it was like a punch in the gut. he would never think that you remembered him from that party. he was hypnotized by you, just staring at you while you talked, which made him believe he made himself look like a fool in your eyes. this whole interaction was also short, because he quickly realized about his not so little problem he had in his pants, just from staring at you and listening to your voice. so he quickly left you alone, having been obsessed with you ever since.

so matt was just convinced that you thought of him as some weirdo, that you forgot about him as soon as he disappeared from your sight at that party. he was sure that when you'd see his face you would freak out, but you... you looked intrigued. he noticed something in your eyes that he couldn't necessarily name. maybe he just imagined it.

licking his lips, he puts your legs back on the mattress and pulls his black hoodie over his head, allowing you to see his tattoos. it really was him. "i didn't have the chance to tell you this then, but, uh..." you swallow a bit nervously, gently touching his arm, tracing the lines of his tattoos with your finger, unconsciously causing matt to lose his mind. "-- i really think they suit you."

that was it for matt.

letting out a low groan, he starts moving again, but this time slower, though still making sure you feel his dick deep. he now towers over you and after a moment of just eye contact, you feel his lips on yours, which stole a quiet, surprised whimper from you.

and for some reason he stayed over night this time. you were sure you wouldn't be able to walk tomorrow, being too sore, but you didn't care, not being able to get enough of him. you wanted to learn his body by heart. somehow it felt right even if it shouldn't.

a/n: hope you guys like it!! this is kinda basically the "last" part, there won't be any other long part like this but i still wanna continue this au!! so if you have any requests or idk questions about ghostface!matt just write them in my inbox, i'd loooveee to continue with this story if y'all want me to. but i'd mostly make it short, maybe as oneshots or something like that. xoxo.

@certifiedstarrr @chrislovespepsi @le4hsblog @sturnsxbitvh @sweetlikesug4rvenom @xaristhings @mattsfavbitchhh @lvrsturniolo @r0s3luvr @slut4brunettes @madisonsturnioloss @chrispillowprincess @sturnioloslutttt4 @ashlishes @mattsbitchh @hi-people-who-are-alive @stellward123 @inssanely @matts-girlfriend @imnotalive420

[bokutosbabe]

It Always Leads To You

( bllk boys as situationships )

a/n — girl whose never had a situationship writing about them? what could go wrong? (they progressively get longer lol)

content — some nsfw but not explicit, pining, GN! reader, some characters repeated, all characters are 18 or 18+

synopsis — what kind of situationship the bllk boys would be

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' and the heart i'm breaking is my own ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' but you're best friends! '

you'd rather spend money on a hotel than stay at home 24/7 for the next week. how could you walk into your house when you knew he'd be there, chatting with you family as if nothing had changed?

maybe you should've pretended you had to work.

that would have saved you the grief of having to see, who was supposed to be, your best friend. how could you face him when the last thing you two talked about was being a couple and that...not going as planned.

well, maybe that wasn't the last thing you two talked about with each other. however, does defiling your families bathroom really count as 'talking'? ( most awkward easter ever afterwards ) you didn't really think so.

whatever, he was a pro-soccer player now, he may not even be at home this christmas. you'd just have to put up with his family, who you'd always loved, and then you could go home and avoid the situation until the next big holiday.

but of course, when you stepped into your childhood home you realized that you'd never get that lucky. there he was, just as handsome as ever, sitting on your families couch.

in your eyes, he looked like he belonged with your family more than you, but you supposed he earned that. he came home every holiday, unlike you who continuously came up with different reasons to stay as far away as possible.

if you left now, maybe no one would know you'd even shown up-

" woah, y/n! it's you! " or...maybe not. " i haven't seen you in forever, what have you been up to? " the voice that plagued your every waking thought crashed its way into your ears.

your best friend ( could you even call him that anymore? were you still his best friend? ) got up from his spot on the couch to come wrap his arms around you in a hug that felt more like home than home did.

" i've missed you, ya know? " he whispered in your ear, hands caressing your back in what felt like much more than what a 'friends' hug would be.

just a week. you could survive and coexist with him for a week. your resolve to never sleep with him set in stone now.

you just wished your resolve wouldn't have crumbled only two days later while your family was downstairs watching christmas movies.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ REO MIKAGE, isagi yoichi, AIKU OLIVER, rensuke kunigami, TOBITO KARASU

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the ' you cannot date them '

you’re a good person... or at least, you want to believe that. But how can you when your best friend sits in front of you now, talking about their ex?

she’s raving about how much she misses him, how everything fell apart at the worst time, how she’s still holding onto the hope that maybe they can fix things.

you try to smile and nod, pretending that you’re not dying inside. how can you even look her in the eye when he’s blowing up your phone right now? when you know exactly how he feels about you?

“it’s just so messed up, right?” she laughs nervously, like this is all just a bad breakup, nothing that can’t be smoothed over. “i’m not even sure what I’m supposed to do anymore.”

she doesn’t know that you already did something. You already did the one thing that could ruin everything. the one thing that she told you you could never do.

your phone continuously buzzing while she's talking, hoping she wouldn't notice you reach for it to silence it while she takes a sip of her drink.

your phone vibrates again, and you try not to look at it. you’re not sure if you’re worried that she’ll see, or that you’ll see what he’s saying. you’re scared of both.

him <3 ; are we still on for tonight? can’t wait to see you.

that familiar ache forms in your chest, and you can feel the betrayal to your friend, the confusion about your own feelings, but worse—there’s nothing you can do about it. you keep smiling, even though it feels like your heart’s sinking with every word your friend says.

" god, if you don't want to listen to me, just say so. " your friend says coldly. " i would have turned off my phone if it was you crying right now. "

" sorry, it's just my mom...talking about some new present she wants to get my brother. " you apologized. "oh, okay. is your brother a cutie?" you didn't even have a brother, showed how much she knew about you.

“whatever, what should i do?" your friend asks, her eyes bright with hope (or maybe delusion). "do you think I should text him? do you think we could still fix things?”

you want so badly to tell her the truth.

you want to be honest, to say what she needs to hear so that she doesn’t get her hopes up.

you want to tell her that he is already texting you, that maybe you are the reason he won’t talk to her.

but instead, you bite your lip and offer a shrug. "i don't know, honestly. maybe he needs time to figure out what he wants too."

"he doesn't need time. he needs me." she mused, staring at you like your answer was just the stupidest thing she'd heard all day. "no wonder you've never dated anyone, who'd like a ditz like you?"

The whole time, your phone is buzzing, buzzing, buzzing, like a constant reminder of your lie.

you; see you tonight :)

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ OTOYA EITA, ikki niko, RANZE KURONA, reo mikage, RYUSEI SHIDO

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧the... ' you'll never be first '

he's leaving soon, and you feel like you're dying.

you’d known for a long time that ‘casually’ seeing a pro soccer player would only lead to being left alone, especially someone like him—someone whose work always came first, and whose heart was as unreachable as the trophies he collected.

he’d said it more times than you could count: “love doesn’t come before soccer. It never will.” and you’d laughed, maybe even agreed at some point, understanding it was just the way things were.

so why does it feel like you’re drowning now, with him leaving just around the corner.

it doesn’t make sense. you’d known the deal from the start.

still, here you are—sitting in his bed, in the quiet of his room, the familiar hum of the city outside reminding you of how little time you really have left with him.

his suitcase is by the door, already half-packed, his jersey draped over the chair where he’d left it, as if he couldn't get out of here fast enough.

you’re almost sick to your stomach at the thought of him walking out that door in just a few days, never looking back.

you’ve spent enough time with him to know that when he leaves, he doesn’t look back. he doesn't look back at stadiums once he walks out, and he wouldn't look back at you either.

"it’s only a few months," he’d said, trying to make you feel better when the topic of him leaving first got brought up. “i’ll be back before you know it.”

but that’s not the point.

it’s never been the point.

you know he’ll be busy with games, traveling, sponsors,...women, all the things that make him too far to reach.

and yet, here you are, sitting in his bed, heart pounding, overwhelmed with the thought of it all ending. you thought you could handle this.

you thought you could be just another notch in his belt. but the truth is, you’ve been fooling yourself. you care too much. you’ve fallen for him, hard, and the worst part is—he doesn’t even realize it.

or maybe he does. maybe he’s known all along, and you were too scared to admit it.

the sound of his voice pulls you from your thoughts.

"hey, you okay?"

you glance over at him, watching him fiddle with his phone, one hand propped up on the headboard. his eyes meet yours, something in them that almost makes you believe he could stay. maybe, you're enough of a reason for him to stay where he is now.

but he won’t. you know that. his life is bigger than you. bigger than this city, this bed, and every memory you’ve shared together.

you nod, forcing a smile, trying to keep the strange bitterness from slipping into your voice.

"yeah, just thinking."

"don’t think too much." his lips curl up into that calming grin that’s made you feel better on several occasions. how could something that used to calm you make you feel like your heart was in your throat? “you’ll drive yourself crazy.”

it’s easy for him to say that. he’s used to moving on. he’s used to leaving. you? you're used to him being here.

his fingers tap absently against the screen of his phone. you can see the notifications lighting up—his agent, a few teammates, probably his parents, all reminding you of the inevitable: he’s leaving soon.

you want to scream. you want to ask him why he doesn’t care. why it’s so easy for him to slip away from everyone who loves him.

but instead, you pull your knees to your chest and keep your eyes fixed on him, as if the longer you look, you could magically gain telepathy to make him want to stay with you.

"how’s your flight looking?" you ask, hoping his answer would be that he cancelled it.

"all set."

and you can't breathe.

the casualness in his voice is what stings the most. the way he talks about leaving as if it’s just another day at the office, another game to be played.

he doesn’t get how you feel. maybe he can’t. maybe he’s just too busy not feeling anything.

The silence is deafening.

"do you... do you ever wish you could just stay?"

It’s a question you didn’t mean to ask, but it escapes before you can stop it.

You wish you could take it back the second it leaves your lips.

he looks up at you, and for the briefest moment, his eyes soften. for one second, he looks like he is completely and utterly yours.

he sets his phone down, sliding it onto the bedside table, then turns his full attention to you.

"i told you, didn’t i? love doesn’t come before soccer."

The words hit you like a train, but it’s not the truth that hurts—it’s the way he says it, like it’s not up for debate. as if it’s always been this way, and it always will be.

why can't he just try? just try to come home every so often...to you.

you feel like a fool. as if you've put your heart on display for him just to not even glance your way.

you know where you stand, even if it’s tearing you apart.

he doesn’t lie to you, doesn’t promise you things he can’t give, and maybe that's why you fell for him in the first place—he was the first person who didn’t play games with you.

"i’m gonna miss you," you say quietly, knowing that admitting it aloud makes it even worse.

his eyes flicker with something, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. he shifts, pulling his knees up to match yours, as if to say he’s close, but still so far. he rests his head back against the headboard.

and for a moment, you almost forget he’s leaving. you forget about the suitcase by the door. you forget about the plane ticket he has. you forget that in just a few days he wont be yours anymore.

"i’ll miss you too," he says softly.

but that’s it. that’s all he says. it’s not a promise, not a declaration. just another passing remark to fill the silence.

he doesn't mean it. it's more of a kindness thing for him to say it back.

you can feel the weight of everything unsaid.

you realize—he doesn’t know how much you care. He can’t understand you.

he’s never been asked to stay.

you’re not even sure you’d want him to. you can’t ask him to change his life for you. and you couldn't keep up with the lifestyle he lives.

the idea of him walking away—of losing him to something bigger, to something you’ll never be able to keep—feels like it will break you.

so you just lie down on his bed, for the last time, you tell yourself.

'after tonight, he'll be free of me'

after tonight, you'd walk out that door and not look back.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ITOSHI RIN, nagi seishiro, SAE ITOSHI, isagi yoichi, RENSUKE KUNIGAMI

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' to leave the warmest bed i've ever known ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

[ + your faves ! ]

again, i've never experienced this, so i hope the research i've done (looking up different types of situationships) has done it justice!

likes, comments, and reblogs appreciated!

[postracehair]

trust me

max verstappen x reader | 2.3k

after an incredible (and wet) weekend in brazil, you have a confession to make.

cw: a loving relationship! discussion of anxiety/fear/worrying about your race car driver bf, healthy communication, and softness galore.

a/n: being a wag must be so stressful. like, damn! also, rain races stress me out, personally. this fic is about that.

__

The triple header comes to an end in the best way possible.

Max Verstappen wins the São Paulo Grand Prix from a 17th-place start! It's the stuff of dreams. The fist around your heart unclenches just a little bit as you watch him smiling, roaring, hoisting his well-earned trophy aloft. It's your best day in a long time, watching your darling boyfriend like that, and you celebrate with everyone late into the night. The Championship battle looms in the background but tonight is about the hard work from the weekend. The stress, the frustration, the damn rain. All of it worth it for the pride you all feel right now.

But what comes after -- that, you can admit, you enjoy even more. Three weeks until Las Vegas and Max and the team have plenty of work to do before then, but for now? For now, it's this: rest.

Everyone gets to go home, finally. And for you, home is wherever Max is. You've spent the first few days of the break thus far at his place. On the floor with the cats, on the couch watching movies. In his bed, sleeping, sometimes, other times... not so much. Hours and hours just being together. You'll have plenty of time for this once the season ends but you can never get enough of him.

You're on the couch, sprawled across the length of it with a book in hand. It's a good one, so much so that you don't notice Max until he taps your ankle and you jump.

"Jesus," you gasp. His lips are pulled up at one corner in the precursor to a full grin, sweatpants slung low enough that you can see the branded band of his underwear between the drawstrings and the hem of his t-shirt. "Where did you come from?"

"Watching race replays," he says with a shrug. "Scooch." You tug your legs back and sit up a little, bookmarking your page as he rounds the couch and plops down where your feet were.

"Max," you whine. "I like to watch those, too. So you can do that thing where you narrate like, every second." You're teasing, but only a little. For all the jokes about "maxplaining," you really do love how he explains things. He tells you what he was thinking at every turn, what the trick is, how long it took him to get it right. He points out his mistakes and those of the other drivers. All of it thoroughly and with enthusiasm, answering your questions like you're the best student he's ever had.

"Yeah, well," he says, sinking into the couch, arm stretched across the cushions towards you. Your eyes rake over the line of his bicep as he talks. "You don't like rain races very much. Wasn't sure you'd want to see it again."

That gets your attention. "How did you know that?" You've never told him outright that they stress you out. It's really important to you that you keep your cool at the track, that you don't do anything to let on that he should worry about you.

But you should know better, it seems.

"I can tell," Max says, looking right at you. "I pay attention."

You hum, not sure what to say. "You've got me there," you confess. "I'm sorry."

"Hey," he tuts. "Why the apology? You can feel however you want to. This weekend was complicated."

He feels too far away. You set your book on the ground and shove your toes under this thigh. He keeps his eyes on your face but you fuss with the hem of your t-shirt rather than look back.

"They're exciting. Rain races, I mean." You sigh. "But I can't help but worry, Max. From the garage, it's so --"

You lose track of your words because Max grabs hold of your legs and tugs them over his thighs as he moves closer to you, almost crowding you against the arm of the couch. He reaches for your collarbone to pick some lint from your shirt, his other arm slung across your calves.

"Were you scared?" he asks. "This weekend, I mean."

Frankly, you avoid telling him things like this because you don't want to distract him. You don't want to detract from his performance in any way and maybe that's selfish, because you know he's very good at what he does and how you feel isn't going to derail his weekend. But you know he loves you, and you know how deeply he feels things. How much he wants to be a good partner, a good driver, a good man. And you try really hard to let him know that he is all of those things.

The reality of your position in his life is that there will always be people who heavily imply that your presence, your actions, your choices could be at fault. It's ludicrous -- Max has said so many times -- but it makes you hype-aware. You don't want to overstep. It's something you know you should articulate to him properly, but you know he'll be upset that you think you can be anything but a good part of his life. It's an endless cycle.

"Hey," he says, mistaking your silence for emotion. "Liefje, I'm fine." He reaches for you, cupping your cheek with a warm hand. You look up at him and find him frowning.

"I know," you say, leaning into his palm. "I know you are. I just -- I don't want it to sound like I'm a whining baby or something."

"Whining baby?" Max gently rubs the skin under your eye with his thumb. "Psh. We've got some of those on track. You couldn't come close to them if you tried."

That gets a laugh out of you and he cracks a smile at the small victory.

You sigh. "I was scared," you admit, voice soft. Max presses a little closer to you, his hand falling from your face to catch yours, fingers twining together.

"Are you always scared?" he asks. "You're more tense on rain weekends, I can tell that much. But you've never really talked about this. I guess I--" He frowns again. "I've never really asked you."

"That's okay," you say. "It's nothing, really."

Blue eyes bore into yours. "No, I want to know," he presses. "Please, tell me?"

You tip your head back a little, eyes on the ceiling. How to say it?

"I guess I'm always a little scared, yeah," you say. "I don't know how I wouldn't be."

He tugs on your hand so you'll look at him. "What is it, do you think?" The question comes out in his typical way. This must be how he is in driver briefings, you think fleetingly. Max is analytical, methodical, always looking for the root of the problem so he can understand it and adapt.

But how do you explain this?

"Well, it's a dangerous sport," you explain. "As you know. And I -- Max, I love you, and I don't want anything bad to happen to you."

The furrow of his brow lessens a bit and he presses a light kiss to the back of your hand. Your stomach flutters, even after all this time.

But Max has no time for your mooning, apparently. "Were you scared before we knew each other?" he asks.

You think about it. "It's different, I guess. I was worried, generally. For all of you. I'm still worried for all of you, but --"

His eyebrow quirks and he fails to hide a cheeky smile. "Me the most?"

You roll your eyes and squeeze his hand. "You the most. But don't tell Carlos that."

Max tuts. "So, now it's just worse? You feel it more?"

Nodding, you try to explain. "I don't even like watching on TV, now, because I'm so far away. I feel so helpless."

You can't make it to every race but you try your hardest, not only to support Max but for your own sanity. It's easier to calm yourself down when you're around other people who believe in him, when you have access to all the details and when he's only a few steps away when he's out of the car.

"I don't want you to be worried," he says, softly. "You don't let on that you are when we say goodbye before the race, aside from being a little tense."

One of your favorite pieces of race weekends -- those few moments when all of his attention is on you. He makes sure you have everything you need and leaves you with a kiss and a smile and a see you later. His confidence and his competence are like balms.

"When I'm looking at you, I'm not as stressed," you say, a bit shy. "You're very good at your job, you know. And your confidence is convincing."

"I know," he says, seriously. "That's why I know it'll be fine. Do you not know that?"

If he was less determined, you'd ask him to drop it, since you're starting to feel embarrassed. But you know he won't let it lie.

"I know it, too, Max." You reach for his face to push back some fringe from his forehead. "I'll always be worried about you, though. You get in the car and drive away and I just -- sit there. And wait for you to come back."

He frowns, deeper this time. You keep your hand on him, cupping his jaw and running your thumb along his stubble.

"And I love it. You know I was a fan before I met you and it's a dream to be there to watch you race. I love seeing you do crazy things like win from p17. It's so much fun."

He knows this about you. You've got a bit of a reputation for your facial expressions in the Red Bull garage, always the first on your feet when he overtakes, jumping up and down when he extends his lead. It's an infectious kind of joy and energy and you lean into it every time, even if your stomach is churning with anxiety.

Max is quiet for a few moments. He covers your hand with his and leans into it further.

"You trust me, right?"

"Of course," you say right away. "Always."

"I've never really thought about it," he says, slowly. "I mean, in the car. I don't worry about you because I'm not worried, so I just thought you knew not to be, too."

"I'll always worry, Max. Even though I trust you."

"Why didn't you tell me this before?"

Your cheeks heat and you look away from him, pulling your hand free to cradle it in your lap.

"You've got a million other things to worry about besides me," you say. "I don't want to distract you."

Max says your name with a scoff, literally waving his hand as if swatting away your silly notions. "Distract me? Come on," he says. "I wouldn't be a three-time world champion if I could get so easily distracted." He leans into your space, nosing at your jaw. "Even if you are very distracting."

You allow the attention for a few moments before pushing him back with a laugh. His cheeks are flushed, hair a bit of a mess, like after he takes off his helmet. And, god, he looks relaxed. You're so proud of him you can hardly stand it. The season is almost over and you know he's got a lot of work ahead of him, and you've got a lot of worrying. But he's motivated, and you know he can win. You know he'll come back to you.

Max leans his head back on the couch and casts his gaze sideways at you, nose scrunched. "I can't fix this, can I? You're still going to worry."

He sounds so resigned, so disappointed in himself that you tug on his hand so he'll get closer. This time, you frame his face with your hands and kiss him, just a light press of your lips to his. Both of you sigh into it, and you drag your mouth along his cheek until you reach his ear.

"I'm still going to worry," you whisper. "But I love you and I trust you. And I know it'll be okay."

Max sighs and presses his forehead to your shoulder, practically pulling you into his lap so he can wrap his arms around you.

"You better hope it doesn't rain for the rest of the season," he mumbles.

"That damn VSC," you groan, pulling back from him a bit. "I was going to tear my hair out!"

Max laughs. "It kept things interesting," he says lightly. "Rain isn't really a problem for me, schatje, you know this --"

"Because you're Dutch, I know, Max." You roll your eyes. "Even Fernando couldn't keep it together! I mean, the gasps from the garage when --"

The seriousness of your conversation fades as you trade tidbits about the race -- you've done this already, hashed it out in the hotel room and the flight home and in bed since Sunday. Max watches you talk, elbow braced on the couch and his head resting in his hand. His eyes sparkle and you know you're amusing him as he corrects you on the turn names and who went in the wall when. Max loves you: you've never doubted this. He loves you and he cares about how you feel and doesn't want you to be worried.

And while you will be, because you love him, you know that it'll be alright.

"Hey," Max says, interrupting your opinions about start procedures. "I love you, okay? Thank you for worrying about me."

"Graag gedaan," you say. Well, you try to say. Max laughs and corrects your pronunciation. You're welcome, he says, over and over, a kiss to your cheeks, your nose, your forehead each time. Ik houd van je. Your lips, your neck, your jaw.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

[smarteoasis]

❀ 24/7 - nishimura riki.

warnings : short filthy smut, cussing, alcohol

gift for all of you since I've been MIA:3

thinking about younger brothers best friend riki. you're one year older than him, so you've always viewed him as a second brother.

he can't relate to those platonic thoughts though. ever since you were little kids, he's been in love with you. you were aware of his feelings, as he's confessed to you on numerous occasions.

recently, riki's had a major glow up. and your teenage girl hormones are through the roof, + you're ovulating.

he's been going to the gym, resulting in toned abs and subtly biceps.

poor you. you don't know what to do with yourself. ever since your boyfriend broke up with you, the only thing keeping you satisfied was a shitty vibrator and a silicone toy.

on the positive side.. today, you and your brother jungwon are hosting a party at your house. you're praying to the gods above that you'll find a guy to hook up with to get rid of those filthy thoughts about your brothers bestfriend.

you didn't know that riki was gonna come too, but you should've expected it. you saw him in the kitchen, drinking from a bottle of vodka, dressed in his typical baggy pants and a compression shirt.

fuck, you think. your pussy clenches around literal nothing as you drink him in, shooting heart eyes his way.

riki looks up, waving at you shyly as he notices the tiny skirt and croptop you're wearing.

you groan to yourself, walking to the crowd to try and find a possible contestant for your sex dreams.

couple hours later..

four drinks in, and yet no guys to fuck around with. you're losing your shit. the only guy on your mind is riki, whose been staring at you the whole night.

little do you know, he's experiencing the same dilemma.

your plump ass peeking through your skirt everytime you walk past him, paired with your perfect tits bouncing in that tank top.. he's going crazy.

he wants you, and only you. but he's too scared to get rejected, so he just watches you from afar.

that is until..

what the hell? are you talking to the lee heeseung? no way you're hooking up with him.

something inside of him snaps, so he stands up and drags you far away from heeseung, locking you both in your room.

"what the fuck, riki? i was in the middle of-"

"persuading him to fuck you? yeah i know."

your eyes widen in disbelief and embarrassment, crossing your arms and scoffing.

"what's it to you, riki? he's not even a bad guy."

he sighs, walking over to you and pressing you down on your bed, looming over you with his tall figure.

"i know. but.. i can't stand watching you from afar anymore. i want you- hell, i need you."

riki's voice breaks in desperation, caressing your cheek softly.

you stare up at him with wide eyes and a open mouth, contemplating slamming your lips against him and riding him till sunrise.

fuck it.

two hours later, he's blowing your back out for the second time tonight, tip hitting your gspot as his cock bullies deeper into you.

"fuckk.. thaaaats it. you're so tight." he groans, balls slapping against your clit with a wet plap.

"gonna cum again ki- fuuuck!" you moan, choking on air as your tight walls close around him.

he cums with you, painting your cunt white from the inside.

riki slowly pulls out, cock limp, red and wet. he lays down next to you and pulls you into a sloppy kiss, fingers finding your perky nipples as he squeezes and rolls them between his index and middle.

"mm.. be my girlfriend and ill fuck you like this as often as you want." he whispers between kisses.

"sounds good.." you kiss him back lazily, content with the nights events.

the rest of the party continues till early morning, and you wake up when jungwon accidentally barges into your room, only to see a naked riki laying down next to your blanket covered form.

he screams like a child, rushing out of the room and never speaking about it again.

now, your heart and your cunt are full of riki, 24/7.

[milktiicup]

H-h-hey.. senpai… I was wondering if you could make more about Mr Crawling! (I LOVEDDD YOUR PREVIOUS FAN FIC ABT HIM) because he’s such a cutie tbh and I love him sm so I was wondering maybe if you could make something about how he would react to the reader spending more time with someone else (coworker preferably!)

Feel free to ignore if you don’t want to do this..!

(Can I be 🦁 anon?)

the jealous type!

His face scrunches. “Not you… smell bad. Someone else.”

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮ omg my first anon >.< ofc u can be 🦁 anon!!!!

warnings. more fluff/comfort hehe, spoilers for end04

It’s late when you return home. If it was any other day, you’d be scheming around the streets with your crowbar- but life is different now. 

You have a commitment at home. Your new roommate… boyfriend? thing. It’s almost as routine as having a pet; coming home, giving him a pat on the head, giving him his completely normal legally obtained soup and ending the day snuggled up on the sofa with him at your feet. 

Sure, he’s the one who came with you all the way from that other world and didn’t have any friends here, but does that mean you can’t? It’s not like you could bring Mr. Crawling with you to work, or after work drinks with your coworkers. Normal people can still see him, after all. He’s just… a little hard for other people to notice- you picked up on that when your parents dropped by on an impromptu visit one evening.

When you kick your shoes off when you come in through the front door, you feel guilty. You can tell he’s a bit down- of course, Mr. Crawling still tackled greeted you with his overzealous, unnecessarily over the top hug. 

“You return!” he says, every time without fail. 

“I return,” you reply, petting his head, but something feels off. He doesn’t let go immediately, and his usual enthusiasm is muted.

Mr. Crawling pauses, his face stuffed into your neck. You quirk a brow, curiously eyeing him as he takes a big sniff of your skin and clothes. His face scrunches. “Not you… smell bad. Someone else.”

Is he the jealous type? Wow, and since when was his sense of smell so good?

“You can smell my friend?” you blink at him, cringing as you feel a knot in your stomach. You try to explain, “Uhm… someone else… uhhhh… my friend.”

“Other friend?” Mr. Crawling frowns, sitting back on his feet, the space between you growing slightly colder.

You pull yourself up from the floor, careful to meet his uncertain gaze. “Other friend,” you confirm.

“Friend… same me?”

You sigh, wishing this language was more descriptive. It’s hard to explain something so complex when neither of you really understands it fully. You tap your fingers nervously against your leg, thinking. “I don’t understand…” you sigh, the weight of the misunderstanding settling on you. “They’re human.”

Mr. Crawling’s frown only grows deeper. He shakes his head, and scoots himself closer to you. He wraps his arms around your waist, his hair falling over the both of you as if trying to shield you from everything outside of your house. “Friend like this?” 

Resting your head on his shoulder, you let out a content sigh. “Not like this, Crawling.”

“You one. You me two. Not like three.” His grip tightens around you, pulling you as close as he possibly can, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. “Me like you. Worry… not like me. Gone long time… Smell someone else.”

You pull back slightly, feeling the pressure of his arms around you. He’s not just possessive, he’s scared. You stretch your arms out. “Like you. Big like. See? This much!” You hold your hands closer together, parallel to each other. “Friend ok. Little like. Understand?”

You chuckle lightly, but the soft pang in your chest makes you pause. “You get it now, Crawling?” you mumble. You reach up and scratch his head absently, a familiar gesture that seems to soothe both of you. “Uhm… when I leave, I go to work. You know work, right?” He nuzzles into your palm, and you just assume he does, for the time being. “Work friend! Not important. You important. You, uh… you understand me?”

“Me understand,” he murmurs into your palm, his cool lips tickling the skin. “Smell bad… Me only like you. You smell good."

"I know you like me, Crawling. I like you, too."

He lets out a satisfied hum, his body relaxing again, and for a brief moment, you wonder if he’s truly getting it—or if he just likes the idea of being yours as much as you like the idea of him being yours. He pulls your head closer to his chest, and that’s when you decide you don’t really need to build rapport with your coworkers that much, not when you have a cute ghost waiting for you back at home.

[ttenaciouscollectionblurb]

"But... Why am I here?" "You spent your entire life doing the best you could for the people, for all the people." "But- But I-" "You spent great effort, being selfless to a fault. You championed for the weak, you did all you could, in every way you could. You went far beyond what you needed to do, to gain their adoration." "But it was all a lie! I did it all so I could gain their trust, and then I was going to-" "You had several opportunities to abuse your powers, in ways unlikely to ever be noticed. You had many chances to create war, justification for your dictatorship." "Because I did not want to risk it! It was the easiest path! The safe path! I never cared about any of them!" "And still, you put your life on the line for them, with no hesitation." "I had to! I couldn't risk them seeing the truth, wasting all those years!" "Wasted what? If it kept you alive... What waste was there, if you truly did not care? As you know well know, you can't abuse your power when dead." "It was a risk worth taking!" "I thought this was the safe path?" "It- it was..." "Then why not seek a safer one, once it seemed no longer safe?" "I-" "'Inside, I am rotten', is that not what you have been telling yourself?" "...Yes. I may hide the truth from them, but not from me, I always knew, knew what I would do once-" "Do you know what rotten people think of themselves?" "WHat?" "Those rotten inside, do you know what they think, when they see themselves?" "What?" "They see my gift to humanity. They see someone more important, more grand, more perfect than anyone. They may see the flaws, but they do not care. They might not love themselves, many of them do not... But they see... Nothing of what you saw. You saw a seed, a possibility of what you might be, of things you desired, thoughts you had, a path that, in the right circumstance, you might take... And you were scared and disgusted... And you became convinced, that that path, was the only path for you, that that self was the only true self... But look at the path you walked through life. See not with your own eyes, but with the eyes of those around you. What do you see?" "...A hero." "Yes. You lived a hero's life. And you did it with a very human, very normal, good but flawed heart. You saw what the good thing to do was, and you did it, with great effort, and with great sacrifice, you walked the narrow path, while convincing yourself that, once you could, you would stray, that you would become the monster you knew was within you. But you never did." "Only because I was never given the chance!" Laughet filled... everything. "Oh, my child. You were given more chances to stray, in the last year alone, than most face in a lifetime. And you know it, do you not? You saw every opportunity, or most of them anyway, and you... Looked the other way. Asserted to yourself it was not yet time, or made some other excuse, for doing the right thing. Walked the path you always walked, that of goodness and kindness." "So... had I lived... Would I have strayed? Are you saying I would not have?" "...Who knows? Past and future are both known to me, but that which might have been? Not my purview. But if you had strayed, you'd have strayed a human, free of rot, but that rot that sits in every human's heart. Just as you walked the pat. Flawed, but not broken. And had you remained true, it would not have been for an infallible, pure heart. But for your own dedication to do good."

Inside you were rotten. But you've made the masses love you. Pretending to be the noblest of heroes was the easiest way to gain power. Finally, as your rule becomes absolute, you prepare to unleash your true self and begin your reign of terror… and then you die and end up in Heaven.

[mind-intheclouds342]

Do it for them- Co-captain reader x Curly

Previous - Part 15 - Next

The day of the rescue was getting closer and closer, with only a week left. 

And it was that day when you woke up in the middle of the night hearing Anya's whimper. 

Those last few weeks, you had settled in the nursery, just in case something unexpected happened with her pregnancy, so they would have everything on hand for her labor.

Anya: "It hurts!! It hurts a lot-!"

"You're doing well, Anya, hang in there a bit longer."

You said calmly with a smile on your lips, quickly giving her some painkillers, hoping that would relieve her. 

Soon Swansea and Daisuke were there to help her. 

Daisuke brought hot water and some towels.

Swansea brought all the possible pillows to make Anya comfortable, and stayed by her side holding her hand so she could hold onto something during the process. 

Curly could only witness the moment and how everyone was helping; he would have loved to be able to do something in a situation like that, but he was just a burden. 

"I can see the head, Anya, you're doing well, keep it up!"

Anya: "TAKE THAT OUT FOR ME PLEASE!!"

Swansea: "AAHG! HOW DO YOU HAVE SO MUCH STRENGTH!"

Daisuke: "AHH! WHY IS EVERYONE SCREAMING??"

"STOP SCREAMING!"

Everyone fell silent when a loud cry was heard in the room, you breathed a sigh of relief knowing that the worst was over. 

You heard a loud thud, realizing that Daisuke had fainted. 

You couldn't help but stare at him for a few seconds; you were the one covered in blood with a baby in your arms, and he fainted. You still had to cut the cord and make sure the placenta had come out completely. 

Swansea: "If you allow me to ask... What is it??"

With a cloth, you were wiping the baby's blood. 

"She is a girl"

You looked at Anya, waiting for some kind of response from her, watching as she started making sounds, a mix between laughter and crying. 

Anya: "I can't... I can't see her... Please don't bring it closer to me... I don't want to hear it anymore..." 

She covered her eyes with her arms. 

Swansea: "Give it to me"

The man extended his hands towards you and you looked at him curiously, handing over the girl who was still crying loudly, and upon feeling the contact with the man's chest, the warmth of human kindness, she gradually calmed down.

Swansea stood up to leave the room, with the baby in her arms, she wanted Anya to have a moment of peace. 

You helped her clean herself first, find a more comfortable place to rest, change her clothes, and make sure her signs were okay, that she wasn't losing more blood than she should. 

"How did it feel?"

Anya: "...The head was the worst... But... Then I felt an enormous relief..."

"Do you think you'll be able to breastfeed her? We don't have anything to give him milk otherwise."

Anya: "...I would prefer... Not seeing her nor touching her..."

"Then we will find a way" 

You were extremely focused on her well-being, touching her forehead and noticing she had a slight fever, you let her rest on a stretcher with a cold cloth on her forehead. 

You sat on Curly's cot, both of you watching her sleep. 

"...They say the moment a mother gives birth is beautiful, but... It's not true, it's exhausting, it's painful, it leaves you with scars, your body won't be the same. The only thing that makes it beautiful is... That you gave life to a child you actually wanted... That... It would mean that Anya only went through horrible pain... As if it were a surgery, removing a tumor that only harms you."

You murmured and looked at your husband, slowly lying down beside him, surprising him, you planned to sleep there with him, as you used to. 

"You still want children, right?"

He didn't say anything, he just looked at your face. 

"...Me too"

You answered him to turn your back and try to sleep. 

The next day, you and Daisuke couldn't help but burst out laughing when you saw the solution Swansea had given Anya so she wouldn't have to breastfeed the baby.

Swansea: "Laugh as much as you want! But this was the only way I had to feed my eldest son when his mother couldn't!"

Swansea had a latex glove with Anya's milk stuck to his shirt, with a small hole in one of the fingers through which Polly was suckling, nestled against the man's chest.