#and the idea of leaving my bed and being a human feels like the worst thing in the world. id rather lay here and rot away into nothing thx

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Something New

Main Masterlist - Soldier Boy Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Soldier Boy/Female Reader, fluff, love confessions, loss of virginity, smut (fingering, oral f!receiving, p in v sex, praise kink, dirty talk)

Summary/Warnings: Request from @elle14-blog1! After Ben finds out that you're a virgin, he has a far better reaction than you expected.

Author's Note: I miss my husband. We're gonna fuck raw. Enjoy!

Word Count: 6.1k

You’re stuck. 

There’s this corner, that you’ve backed yourself into. It’s not the worst corner to be in, but it’s a corner all the same. And you can’t seem to find a way out of it, but you’re not sure if you want one. Even as the walls press in, and it becomes painfully clear that there isn’t a way out—you’re either going to die here, or come to life—you’re not really struggling to escape at all. 

Because it’s Ben, that’s hovering over you with a smirk and keeping you trapped here. 

So you don’t want to go anywhere at all. 

Even if this destroys you—it might—you’re going to stay right here pray that when you are ruined, maybe you just won’t be left on the floor. 

You don’t think Ben will leave you on the floor. It’ll shatter a critical and delicate part of you, if he does. And you have no real proof that he won’t. Nothing except for his eyes locked onto yours, the way that the heat radiating from his body is making you a little dizzy, and how there’s not a single hateful thing in his voice as he says your name. 

There’s never anything hateful when Ben says your name. There’s always something that’s not quite soft, but gentle. No spat words, or harsh tone. Even when you’re fighting about something—he killed a guy again, he’s not supposed to do that, but the asshole had been threatening you so he’s going to claim it’s justified—Ben never says your name the way he says Butcher or Homelander.

It could mean nothing at all. 

But in your heart, you’ve twisted it to mean something. Just for yourself. Just to keep the fantasy alive. Feeding the idea that, somehow—in a world full of supes that can match Ben punch for punch—you’re the one he wants.

The soft little human that he always has to jump in front of a bullet for, who puts up with his bullshit because she loves him, and never leaves because he has her on a leash without even knowing it. 

He has no way of knowing. You’re a better actor than he is, by a mile. It’s how you got tangled up in the whole Homelander and Vought mess to begin with. A nobody who can be anybody, and doesn’t flinch when there’s a gun aimed right at her skull. Not a hero, but a useful tool. 

Butcher says you keep the Gov under control by his balls, as well. You don’t argue—any argument with Butcher is pointless—but you know he’s just being a dick. Any control you have over Ben lives in your head, right next to the dream you have where he kisses you and walks you backwards to a bed or wall, confessing his love.

It’s a dream that’s eerily similar to what’s happening right now.

You’re already pressed to a wall, Ben’s just not kissing you. And he’s not confessing his love, but he is keeping a hand on your chin, keeping your gaze trapped on his. Maybe this is a dream. 

You have no idea how to find out. 

Or what you’ll do if it isn’t.

“The capecucked pussy is dead.” Ben mutters, and you take a deep breath. 

“Um, yeah.” You give him a soft smile. “Good job on that.” 

He just grunts, and it’s not like him to not accept a compliment. Last time Hughie told him that he’d taken a good shot, there had been a twenty-minute rant about how of course it was a good shot, he wasn’t some fucking dumbass who’d miss.

Something’s wrong.

“Ben?”

He repeats your name back—his voice is low, and it’s always low, but this feels different—and you take another long breath.

“Why are you here?”

“Because I want to ask you out.”

“Oh.” You blink at him, and then the words sink into your skin. Your heartbeat kicks over a pace, heat rises to maybe every nerve point in your body, and you’re dizzy again. “Oh.”

Ben frowns slightly. “Does that mean yes or no.”

“It- It doesn’t mean anything- I just-“ You try to lean back into the wall, like maybe it will swallow you whole, but there’s nowhere to go. “What?”

“The fuck do you mean what-“

“I- I don’t know what’s happening.” You whisper, and his frown deepens.

“I’m trying to date you. Then marry you, but cumguzzler says we have to date first.”

“Cum-“ You shake your head, and dig your nails into the skin of your arms. There’s a sting. It’s not a dream. “You asked Hughie?”

Ben gives a tight nod, his attention not wavering for a single second. “Answer my damn question, sweetheart.” He pauses, then adds, “Please.”

You’re going insane. Or you’d just died in that last fight, and somehow gotten into heaven. This is real, but it can’t be. You’ve heard more than just rumors about Ben’s sexcapades, and his taste in women, and how he is about relationships overall. And you don’t fit into that. Anywhere. You’re just you. Human. Beautiful, but not desirable. Not to date. Maybe to be touched, but you don’t let anyone touch, because you’re a pathetic romantic that can’t find it in her to be touched and nothing more. 

You’ve almost broken that last part for Ben. Several times. When he’d get extra flirty, and you’d know that’s all it was, but if he’d asked you to spread your legs or get on your knees, you’re not sure you would’ve been able to say no. 

Maybe that’s all this is. He’s just asking for sex, and you’re going to have to tell him no—you’ll get addicted from one hit, and he��ll realize that, despite your job and outward persona, you’re nothing at all—and it’s going to haunt you for the rest of your life.

“Do- are you just asking for sex-“

“No.” His brow furrows. “I am going to fuck you, but not now. Unless you beg for it. Can’t tell the most beautiful girl no if she’s damn whining for my cock.”

You’re going to explode. “So you actually- You want to date?”

“That’s what I goddamn said, doll-“

“Why?”

You can’t stop the question from slipping out. But you can’t understand. Ben can be mean, but he wouldn’t be this cruel—not to you, at least—to make this kind of joke. Yet he doesn’t look like it’s a joke at all. He’s glaring at you like the question is insane, and his words are so firm they sound like gospel. Like they’ve been set in stone for a long, long time before you got to read them. Like there’s no possible way they could ever change, even as the stone is eroded by time, and everything else rots away, Ben will still mean every single thing he says. 

He always does. 

It’s one of the countless reasons you love him. 

And one of the reasons he’s going to tear you apart. 

“The fuck do you mean why.” His voice is almost a growl, and he’s continuing before you can even think of a proper answer. “I fucking love you. I want to marry you, give you the goddamn world, and live a normal, perfect life with you now that all this fucking Homelander shit is over. But I have to fucking date you first, and I’m not goddamn pussy who’s going to wait for you to ask first, so I’m telling your right fucking now.” He leans down, tipping your head back a little further and burning you alive under his gaze. “You’re my fucking life. I love you. If you don’t love me, still say yes because there’s not a goddamn thing I won’t do for you. But if you have to say no, and I’ll wait my whole fucking life for you to say yes.”

“I-“ Another deep breath. You can’t really hear your own voice, over the sound of your heartbeat. “What if I never say yes?”

He rolls his eyes. “Then I’ll wait until I’m damn dead, didn’t you fucking hear me.”

“I- I did.” You whisper, and this can’t be real. 

You’d really like it to be.

“You love me?”

“I’ll fucking die for you. Right now.”

“Oh- Okay.” 

Ben pauses. “What does okay mean.”

You give a weak shrug. “Okay. I love you too. I’ll date you.”

“You-“ Something flashes over Ben’s features, and his whole body tenses above you. “You love me.”

You nod, and he lets out a heavy exhale, rubbing his thumb over your chin, brushing your lower lip.

“Good. That’s fucking good. Alright. Let’s watch a movie.”

“Ben, wait-“ You grab his arm before he can move away, and he stills. “Like a date?”

“No. On your couch.” He grabs your hand in his, raising it up to press a kiss to your knuckles. “I’m courting you fucking right. First date will be next week, when I’ve gotten to make a goddamn plan for it. Right now, we’re watching a movie.”

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Courting.”

“What-“ “Old man.” You whisper, your smile growing as Ben rolls his eyes, his mouth twitching slightly.

“Alright, spitfire. Come watch the fucking movie.”

It’s easy to just nod and agree, because you feel like you’re still dreaming. But it’s real.

It’s so fucking real, and you don’t understand how, but it doesn’t matter. Ben tugs you to the couch, and the night passes with you half in his lap and his arms around your body—which doesn’t feel that different from when you’d just have your head on his shoulder, as if nothing’s really changed at all—and this is real.

And time passes. 

And Ben was fucking serious.

Your first date is to a fancy restaurant. He brings you flowers, kisses your cheek and holds your hand, and you spend the whole night in a daze, a little convinced that this is some sort of Cinderella situation, and the spell is going to be broken the moment he drops you back at your apartment. 

But it doesn’t. He doesn’t try to walk you into the bedroom, you don’t have to have the conversation, and Ben leaves you with a kiss on your cheek and nose and everywhere but your mouth—he’s teasing you, the asshole, and you love him but he’s going to get his stupid supe-ass punched—and a promise of a second date, soon.

Soon means the next day. You go to the zoo, because Ben listens more than people give him credit for, and knows you love animals. He buys you a stuffie, and when it starts to rain, he blocks you with his whole massive body, like you’re something so priceless the rain shouldn’t get to even touch you.

You break first.

You kiss him in the car.

You climb onto his lap, grab his face between your hands, and—when his hands tighten on your hips and his gaze becomes hooded and predatory—crash down into him. And this is where you always should have been. Wrapping your arms around Ben’s next and getting lost in the whiskey and smoke taste of him. Moaning when his tongue pushes down your throat, and giggling when you bite his lower lip, and he rolls you over with a groan. Feeling his hands skim up your sides and his boner press on your inner thigh.

You have to break apart there. 

Because the doubt is slowly easing from your mind. He wouldn’t buy you a stuffie if he wasn’t serious. He’d even done it without you asking, just grabbing it off the shelf with a scowl and shoving it into your hands, before kissing the top of your head and grumbling that he loves you again. 

And he does. You really believe that he does. 

But that’s doing to be a problem. The corner only keeps getting tighter. Ben only keeps getting closer. And you don’t know how to tell him the thing. The embarrassing thing. The thing that might make you lose him, whether or not you keep it down or spit it out.  

You’re a virgin.

And you know it shouldn’t be a big deal. It’s just a social construct—a misogynistic one—and you’re more than just that.

But it doesn’t feel like just a social construct. It feels like a curse. Ben’s been with so many people he’s lost count. And he says he loves you, and you believe him, but he’s also Ben. Horny and dramatic and sort of godlike, deserving of someone who can keep up with him and not turn sex into a whole thing. But it has to be a thing, with you. Not just the virgin conversation, but all of it. You want it to mean something, which is childish and pathetic—it’s just sex—but it’s what you want. Have wanted. 

You’ve always wanted it to mean something. For it to be from love, and not just need. 

You’d like it to be with Ben.

But there’s a loud and vicious part of your brain that keeps telling you this is going to be the end of it all. You’ll either tell him, and he’ll decide that’s more trouble than you’re worth—and he’d be right—or you’ll pretend you aren’t and everything will shatter down anyway.

If you just refuse to have sex with him, he’ll give up on you. Get bored of just making out on the couch or in the middle of the street, and move on to someone who can give him what he needs. Or worse, you’ll cave and let him take whatever he wants, but you won’t know how to give anything back, and he’ll leave out of disappointment. 

You don’t want him to leave. Ever. His whole get married, grow old together, be loudly and madly in love until we both fucking die plan sounds perfect. It’s just this one, stupid, embarrassing thing that’s going to make it all fall apart.

It doesn’t help that you know he wants it. That he’s been trying to wait—to make it good, romantic fucking sex—but he keeps getting hard all the time, and you keep feeling an ache grow between your legs whenever he so much as whispers your name in your ears. 

The kissing doesn’t help. 

The kissing is going to kill you. 

He’s so fucking good at it. Time has slipped by so easily—you’re on date number ten—and Ben just keeps getting better at kissing you. He seems to have memorized every single way to draw a needy sound from your lips, and he keeps finding new ways to pull you apart with only his arms caging you to his chest and his mouth never wandering below your collarbone. 

And his mouth. 

His fucking mouth. 

It fits so perfectly against yours. He uses his tongue like a weapon to make you light-headed and soft all over, teasing you by tracing your lips and teeth, the licking over every bruise he sucks on your neck. He bites and kisses and marks you until he’s branded on your skin, and you can taste him every single fucking moment. 

And you do think about it. All the time. Virgin doesn’t mean prude, and too many nights end with your hand between your legs, trying to pretend that it’s Ben’s. Licking your lips, still swollen from his kisses, and imagining the haunting feeling of Ben’s mouth drifting down to your clit. 

It’s barely a crude replica of him even kissing you. It’s all you get. 

Usually.

Usually, Ben stops here. When you’re a panting mess that’s tugging at his hair and trying to grab his mouth back to yours, like maybe it could stick there and you’d never have to chase the phantom of him again. 

But he’s not stopping right now. His fingers on your waist are dipping under your shirt to brush over skin and play with the waistband of your skirt. He’s angled you so your clothed pussy is rubbing right against his thigh, and his kisses are getting dangerously deeper. His hand tangled in your hair is tipped your head back so he can kiss at your throat, and when you moan his name—earning an approving grunt that goes right to your core—Ben shifts you again. 

Right onto his boner, letting your grind against his as his hand wanders up, and brushes on the bottom of your breast.

“Fuck, Ben-“ You gasp, dragging your hands from his hair to plant them on his chest. “Wait.”

He pauses, drawing back with a frown. “You’re not ready.”

It’s not a question. But Ben doesn’t really ask questions. He says that because he knows it’s true, and that rips open your heart a little. He’d been ready. You can feel how ready he is, and you’d like him to show you too, but- 

You can’t.

“Sorry,” you mumble, dropping your brow to his shoulder, and he tenses below you.

“Why the fuck are you sorry.”

You shrug, wrapping your legs fully around his waist. His cock is still pressed against you. Wearing a skirt was a horrible idea. “For making you wait, I think.”

Ben grunts your name, tugging on your hair until you lean back and meet his gaze. 

“Listen.” He mutters, and you couldn’t ignore him if you tried. Not when he’s look at you like this. Like you’re really all he’s ever needed. “I said I’d fucking wait. I goddamn meant it. I’m not some pussy who’s going to fucking run away just because you’re not putting out.”

“But-“ You swallow, scanning over his features. Impossibly handsome. Somehow yours. “You- Do you not care about sex?”

He snorts. “Of course I fucking care about sex, but I care about you more. I’ve banged a million fucking women, none of them ever made my heart feeling like stupid fucking goo. Only you,” he grabs your face between his hands, like he thinks you’re going to try and run. “Can do that. And it would be real damn nice if you’d tell me how to speed it up, or if you’re just not fucking into that or some shit, but I said I love you. That’s fucking that.”

You nod slowly, trying to choose your words right. Trying to make sure you don’t say something stupid, and fuck this up. “You- you wouldn’t care if I wasn’t into it?”

“That’s what I damn said, doll. I’ve got a hand. And a brain. I can take care of myself, if I have to.” He pauses, his brow drawing together and mouth opening, and you shake your head.

“No. You don’t have to.”

He nods, but now he mostly he looks confused. “Then what’s the fucking problem. I can’t fucking do shit it if you don’t tell me-“

“It’s- I’m not-“ You wish he’d let go of your face. He’s holding you so gently, watching you so carefully and reverently, and you’re going to say it. You don’t want to see his expression shift when you say it. 

Ben grunts your name, and it falls out like vomit. 

“I’m a virgin.” You squeak, grabbing his hands over your face. He needs to stay there. You don’t know what you’ll do if he doesn’t. “I- I just never got the chance, not with someone I wanted, and it’s stupid but I don’t want- I mean I want you, but- You’re you, Ben, and I don’t- What if I’m not good.”

Ben’s silent. Too silent. Scanning over you slowly with a tight frown, and this is it, he’s going to leave-

“Nobody’s touched you.” He mutters, his voice suddenly a little hoarse. “Ever.”

“Um,” you take a shaking breath. “This one guy in high school fingered me, but-“

“Did you cum.”

You blink at him. “No?”

“Hm.” His hands tighten slightly. “And you want me.”

“Yes, but, I-“ You try to shift to hide from his attention, and then you feel it.

He’s still hard. Really hard. Pressed right against your core and twitching when you squirm. 

Oh. 

“Ben,” you whisper, and he looks predatory. One of his hands has wandered from your face to your waist. Under your shirt, tracing firm circle on your skin as he holds your gaze. 

“You watched porn, sweetheart?”

Jesus Christ. You give him a small nod, and he hums.

“You know what you like?”

“What I-“

“Hard.” His hand slips out from under your shirt, landing a light hit on your ass that makes you squeak and fall fully over his chest. “Or soft.”

You gape up at him—his muscles flexing as he keeps you pinned against him and his pretty eyes hooded and blown out with lust—and you might be drooling. “Both, I think. But- I don’t want it to hurt-“

“Won’t hurt you.” He grunts. “Never going to hurt you, babydoll, just-“ He grabs your chin again, and your mouth falls open. “Don’t ever think you’re not going to be fucking good. You’re a goddamn angel, and- Fuck-“ He groans, dropping his face to kiss over your neck. “I’m going to fucking ruin you. You’re never going to need anyone else, you’re fucking mine, and-“

He cuts himself off with a groan, crashing his lips back into yours, and if you could feel every bit of this, you’d be sure it was a dream. But he groans down your throat and you feel it throb in your core, and when you bite his upper lip and he ruts against you, it sets of million fireworks everywhere in your body.

Ben pulls back with a wild expression, his voice full of strain. As if he’s physically forcing himself not to move. 

“Ben-“

“Say yes,” he mutters, squeezing your hips. “I’ll make you feel so fucking good, baby, just gotta damn say it-“

“Yes- Ben-“

The word is barely out of your mouth before he’s standing. And this is it. 

You don’t think you’d want it any other way but this. Here. In a shitty apartment with Ben, carrying you to the bed before lowering you down with almost mocking care. 

“Need to prep you,” he mutters, shoving your legs apart as he kneels at the edge of the bed. “Fucking- Christ on a cross, doll.” Two broad fingers drag over your underwear, and a high whine leaves your throat. “So fucking wet for me you’re soaking through your panties, huh. Need it that fucking bad.”

“I- I don’t- Ben-“

He leaves a light slap over your underwear, and you fall flat on your back with a moan. 

“C’mon, pretty girl, just fucking admit how bad you want my cock-“

“So bad,” you moan, and your reward is quick. There’s a ripping sound as Ben tears away your underwear, and you barely get a second to register the cold air before his fingers are rubbing up and down your slit, leaving teasing presses over your clit. 

“Going to slide right in,” he mutters, and you could swear you hear awe in his voice. “Fuck, you’ve just been waiting for me, doll, can’t believe I’m the only motherfucker that’s going to get to feel this pretty pussy squeeze me.”

He shoves a finger into your cunt, pumping slowly, and your back arches off the bed. “Shit- Ben-“

“I know,” he’s teasing you. Leaving soft kisses over your inner thighs that you can’t see, because of the stupid skirt. His voice vibrating against your skin as he gets closer and closer to where you’re aching for him. “You’re going to be a good girl for me, aren’t you. Taking whatever I damn give, letting me show you fucking heaven, letting me fucking wreck you-“

“Yes.” You gasp, fingers curling in the sheets as a second finger joins the first, and one broad, warm hand travels up to palm at your breast. “God, Ben, I- Feels good-“

“Fuck yeah, it does.” His thumb flicks over your clit, and you try to push up on your palms to see him, but he doesn’t give you the chance.

Ben’s lips attach to your clit, right as his fingers crook on a deep, aching and electric spot inside of you, and you fall back down with a gasp. 

He’s too good at this. His tongue is flicking at a rapid pace that’s driving your brain into a needy, dazed frenzy of Ben, pinching your nipple and groaning into your pussy and taking you so high you don’t think you’ll ever come back down, all as his fingers only rub and press on that needy spot. His beard scrapes and tickles on your thighs, and his teeth brush over your clit right as he rolls a nipple between his fingers, and your take a shuddering breath, trying to hold yourself together as the heat builds.

“I- Ben-“ You grab blindly with one hand, and manage to get a fistful of his hair. “Shit, I’m gonna- Ben-“

Your voice is a whine, but he’d pulled away. Sat up with a wide smirk, licking his fingers clean as he holds your gaze.

“Taste like heaven,” he drawls your name, running his thumb up your pussy, pausing to dip inside slightly and smirking as you shiver below him. “That’s right, feels good, doesn’t it.”

You nod a little stupidly, trying to spread your legs wider, and Ben’s grin grows. 

“Want more?”

“Yes,” you whisper, grinding desperately into the air. “More, that’s- Ben-“

His thumb moves to press on your lower lips. “Taste.”

You open for him without thought, sucking every bit of your own arousal as he watches you, and his grin falls into a darkened, starved expression that goes right into your cunt. You don’t ever want him to stop looking at you like that. And you’re not sure what you’re doing—running your tongue on the pad of his thumb as moaning at the sight of him above you—but he likes it, so you double your efforts. It has the intended effect. He groans and pries his thumb away with a popping sound, before ripping off his own shirt and crashing down into you with a bruising force.

This kiss is going to wreck you all on its own. Deep and starved, all the way into the mattress as his hands wander everywhere, helping you shed clothing like even a thin layer of cloth between you is more than he can bear. 

“Want you to cum on my cock, doll,” he grunts, rubbing his hand back over your soaked cunt, and you nod feverishly.

“Oh- Okay- Just-“ You roll your hips against him, scratching at his back as his palm hits your clit. “Need it, Ben, need it now-“

“You really are desperate for it,” he mutters, something like awe creeping into his voice. “Waited too fucking long, didn’t you, baby. Bet you’ve fucked your hand thinking about me-“

“I have,” you whisper, and he groans, planting sloppy kiss down your neck. “Only wanted it to be you, Ben, love you, need you-“

Your words fall into a moan as he gives you another deep kiss, and he speaks against your lips, his thumb on your thumb rubbing shocking soft, small circles.

“I’m clean.” He grunts. “Can’t catch anything. And you’re pure-“

“Don’t say pure, Ben.” You mumble, somehow managing to give him a flat look. “It’s weird- Shit-“

He slaps your pussy again. But it’s with his cock, huge and thick and erect in his hand, and your mouth falls open in a silent moan.

“Keep fucking tell me what to do,” he mutters, staring to rub himself between your pussy lips, and you can only gape at him. “Love how damn bossy you can be, doll, my little fucking spitfire. So smart, such a smart fucking mouth always begging to be stuffed with my cock. Teaching me shit and acting like a pretty fucking angel, when you’ve been thinking about me fucking you stupid. What should I call it,” he lowers his lips to hover over yours, his voice a deep drawl that rolls through your body. “If nobody else has ever touched you but me.”

“Nothing.” Your voice is too soft, but you can’t really think outside of the smell and feel of Ben, everywhere around you. “It- It’s not that big a deal-“

“That why you didn’t tell me?” He counters, brows raised, and you swallow. 

“Yes?”

“For such a good actress, doll, you’re a real bad fucking liar.” He presses a mockingly soft kiss to your lips, chuckling when you try to chase him back up and pinning to you to mattress with a light hand on your throat. “You love me, sweet girl.”

Not a question. “Yes. And you love me.”

“More than fucking anything.” He hisses, pulling your lower lip between your teeth. “And you’re not pure. You’re a smart fucking mouth, and a good fucking cockslut for me, aren’t you. Only me.”

You moan, your back arching off the bed, and he squeezes your throat lightly.

“Answer me, baby-“

“Yes.” You gasp out, grinding into him. “Please, Ben, need you so bad-“

He finally kisses you, slow and deep and long, but his dick remains pressed right outside of your entrance.

“Use your words,” he mutters your name, moving his hand to tangle with yours. “Condom, yes or no.”

“No.” You mumble. “I’m on the pill. For hormone regulation. Want you, Ben, now-“

Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as he starts to push in, and he’s going so slow. Letting you squeeze his hand with a death grip and studying your face for any sign of distresses, going inch by inch until you’re split open on his cock. You’re so full, and he’s bumping at your cervix and pressing on the wired spot, making your gaze cloud with lust and need as he just sits there. Giving you a chance to adjust, kissing over your neck and grunt every time you squeeze around him.

“Need to you relax, babydoll.” He groans when you flutter again, his hips jerking slightly, and you just blink at him. “So fucking tight, feel like goddamn heaven, but- Christ on a fucking cross-“

He bites at your throat as you try to grind against him, silently begging him for more. You can’t really remember any words that aren’t Ben. You don’t need them, because he rises over you with a glower, brushing hair from your face, and you squeeze around him again. On purpose. He needs to move.

“Fuck- You need to stop that-“

You do it again, and his eyes narrow. 

“You want more.”

You nod, grinding down onto his cock, and his eyes flash. 

“Can’t fucking talk?” He drawls, grinning down at you. “Can’t beg for me to fuck you good and damn proper? Already that fucking ruined on my dick when I haven’t fucking moved-“

You whine, squeezing again, and he tenses over you. 

“Blink twice if you’re ready.” He growls, and you obey. Two slow, firm blinks, your fingers curling on his neck, and he pulls almost fully out. 

But he still doesn’t fuck you. 

“Say my name,” he grunts, and it’s a good thing that’s the only thing you can remember how to do. 

“Ben,” You moan, writhing below him. “Ben, Ben-“

One last, impossibly soft and lazy kiss, sucking on your lower lip with a groan, before tracing kisses over your cheeks right to your ear, his breath ghosting over your skin and sending a shive up your spine.

“Good girl,” he mutters, and slams home.

He’s not being harsh. Not even that rough. It’s not slow, but it’s not bed breaking, and it’s fucking perfect. His cock drags and hits every spot deep inside of you, and he keeps muttering low, taunting praise in your ear that you can’t really hear over the sinful sound of your skin slapping together. You can’t think about anything but the feeling of him inside you, his hand in yours and his mouth finding every inch of skin it can reach. Your eyes are already rolling back in your head as his thumb glides back to your clit and you cling to his back, a cockdrunk, fluttering and moaning mess in Ben’s arms. 

“Ben,” you whimper, trying to capture his mouth back onto yours. “Ben-“

“Fucking- Christ and fucking hell, you feel so good,” he ruts deep inside you, and the coil in your gut is building to a snap. “Made to take my cock, be fucked all nice and dumb for me, saying my name-“

You roll your hips to meet his, and he groans. “Ben- I- I’m-“

He leans up, watching you carefully without breaking his pace. “You need more.”

You nod like a bobblehead, somehow dragging the words up from the back of your brain, numb with pleasure. “Need to cum, Ben, please-“

He slams his lips back onto yours, and that’s all you needed to say. Ben’s thumb presses down, his hips shifting slightly to hit just a little deeper, and you almost scream into his mouth. He’s good, so fucking good, his cock is hitting place in you that you didn’t know exist and he’s swallowing your every sound, and his thumb is moving in rapid, harsh circles that drag you right up to the edge as his own pace grows sloppy, and he pinches your clit-

The coil in your but snaps, and pleasure slams into you like a hurricane. Crashing through every single nerve in your body and pulling apart until all you can see it stars behind your eyes and Ben’s handsome, blown out face as he fucks your through your orgasm, kissing you like he wants to drown in your and slamming home with a roar of your name. You can feel him painting your cunt white and hot, and your whole body goes slack as a last, tiny wave of pleasure rushes through your body.

There’s a long moment where you just lie in each other—Ben kissing over your face again and mumbling good girls that make you spasm over his cock again—and you’re not sure you’re going to be able to walk. When Ben pulls out with a groan, you can feel him dripping down your ass and onto the mattress. You’re sore, and feel a little drunk, and you’re not sure what happens now, but that’s why you have Ben.

He kisses slowly down your body, landing back between your thighs, and presses a small, soft kiss over your clit before dragging his finger through the mess of your releases, and grinning up at you and he tastes it, then smears in on your stomach. 

“Fucking gorgeous,” he mutters, his smirk growing as a high sound escapes your chest. “Wait here, doll, need clean that pretty fucking pussy.”

You grumble something that’s likely supposed to be can’t go anywhere, asshat, but Ben just laughs, crawling back over your body to grab your chin and give you another deep kiss. You moan into his mouth, able to taste the cum on his lips, and he pulls back with soft grin. 

“Fucking love you. Don’t you goddamn move, or I’m tying up.”

You flush, a rush darting up your spine at the thought, and Ben’s grin grow. 

“Later, you needy fucking brat. Don’t want to goddamn break you.”

He couldn’t break you. Ever. He’s being so shockingly sweet and gentle, you’re certain everyone would think you were lying if you ever spoke of it. 

But you won’t.

Because this part of Ben is only yours. 

He cleans you up with a wet, warm cloth, presses another kiss to your inner thigh, and carries you to the couch with a blanket while he changes the shits. Then, before you can try and ask to help, you’re being guided to the bathroom with a grumble about needing to fucking piss every time, after. Then it’s back to bed, with Ben’s body curved around yours, his face pressed to the crook of your neck and his arms wrapped around your stomach.

“You feel better, doll.” Ben says into your ear, and against it’s not a question. 

Just the truth. There’s a soft ache between your legs, and you’re going to need to sleep for a thousand years, but it’s done. And Ben stayed. 

“Yeah,” you whisper, rolling over in his arms to bury your face in his chest, and smiling when his hand moves to cradle the back of your head. “I love you,” You mumble into his chest, and he grunts, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Love you too.”

He loves you. 

And you don’t think he’s ever going to give you a reason to doubt that in his life. 

So you’re out of the corner. 

And everything is good. 

End Note: I think I get possessed when I write Ben. This took me three hours. Psychologists fear me.

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[kerosenee-kisses]

Afternoon Delight | Itoshi Rin

summary: rin gets home from practice a little earlier than usual, only to find you in the middle of your afternoon cat nap.

cw: 18+, afab reader, no pronouns, proplayer! rin, established relationship, somno, dubcon, briefest mention of suicide (rin would rather die than break your trust, essentially), spit, choking lite

a/n: i didn’t think i would write anything else about rin but he seems to be my muse!! this was a lot of fun to write and i hope you enjoy!

I have so many ideas i want to bring to life, here’s hoping that I'm able to do just that. banners by @cafekitsune

wc: 1.8k

tags: @rroxii

It wasn’t every day that Rin got to leave practice early. Especially not three days ahead of a major game. But the summer hasn’t been particularly forgiving as far as the weather is concerned. Apparently, conducting practice amid one of the worst heatwaves in recent history is considered, as you so aptly put it this morning, “A human rights violation.” 

“I’ll kill your coach for not cancelling practice,” you’d hissed while you both had an especially early breakfast – his coach wanted to get as much done before the heat became unbearable. 

So, home is exactly where Rin finds himself when he’d normally be in the middle of grudge match scrimmages. It pisses him off that the weather is screwing with his conditioning, but at least he can spend the afternoon with you for once. You’d begged and pleaded with him to stay at home with you from the time you woke up until you begrudgingly kissed him goodbye. At least he knows you’ll be thrilled to see him. A small smile quirks up his lips, but he schools his features at once.  

A blast of glacial air greets Rin when he opens the door to the apartment. It’s a much-needed respite from the scorching afternoon sun. Rin drops his duffel and removes his shoes at the entryway. He tries not to feel too disappointed that you haven’t launched yourself at him in greeting. In fact, you haven’t acknowledged his arrival at all.  

Rin calls out to you as he moves through the empty living area. There’s no sign of you in the kitchen or dining room. You’re not in the home office either, even though you had promised to lock yourself in there and write all day. Thankfully, he finds you sleeping soundly in the bedroom, tucked under your favorite blanket. It’s even colder here than in the rest of the apartment.  

“What the fuck is your problem, you hate the cold,” he mutters as he raises the temperature a few degrees. He’ll never understand why you insist on turning the room into an ice box just so you can sleep with that garish, fuzzy blanket you’ve had for forever. You rarely sleep without it, though there’s nothing special about it other than it being fucking hideous. So much so that Rin had almost thrown it away when he was helping you pack ahead of your moving in. You’d nearly cancelled the move altogether. Nearly cancelled his life, too.  

Even with such a hideous blanket on, Rin regards you fondly. You’re so lovely when you sleep, so serene. He strips down to his underwear so he can join you for your nap. He doesn’t make a habit of sleeping in the middle of day, but he is easily seduced by the idea of holding you close. Considering you normally wrap yourself in this blanket like it’s your sarcophagus, Rin removes it easily enough. But his mouth dries upon his success. You lay in bed fully naked, body soft with sleep and glistening with a sheen of sweat.  

It’s difficult for him to think straight. There’s something darkly erotic about your bare body, presented to him so enticingly. Blood rushes to his cock so suddenly that he’s left lightheaded. You’re too beautiful, you’re too vulnerable. He wants to kiss and bite all over your pliant skin, wake you with his cock, and he’s mortified about it.  

Rin settles into bed beside you despite the warring thoughts battling through his head. He’s 94% certain that you won’t mind him doing this. In fact, he thinks you’ll be entirely too pleased, smug even, to see what you’ve reduced him to. But what if he betrays your trust? What if you hate him for it? He’d have to kill himself. 

Rin grazes your already pebbled nipple with his finger; each swirl around the pert bud draws it even tauter.  

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he whispers against the skin of your breast. “You should take responsibility for that.” 

Rin lowers his mouth to your nipple and sucks. The taste of sweat on your skin, the scent of your perfume, your shaky breathing, overwhelms his senses. You overwhelm his senses. If he didn’t love you so damn much, he would resent you for making him feel so out of control. 

Rin skates his hand along the slick skin of your stomach, supple satin beneath his palm. The feel of it is addictive. He needs to touch even more of you. Eager, Rin eases his middle finger into your cunt and your breath hitches. He looks up at your face and is equal parts relieved and aroused by the relaxed expression decorating it. Why does he find you so irresistible always?   

You squirm when he pushes his ring finger into your wet heat too. He finds a rhythm that pulls a sleepy moan of his name out of you. It goes straight to his foggy head, and he sucks on your tit even more earnestly in the hopes that you’ll say his name again. 

Rin’s not sure what siren song your sleeping body is serenading him with, but he is helpless against it. Each of his movements is dictated by a lust he has never known.  His own breathing speeds up when your arousal gushes out with each pump of his fingers inside you.    

Rin sits up so he can push your legs apart, enough for him to kneel between them. Your pretty cunt is dripping wet for him. While he’s desperate to have a taste, his cock, strained and throbbing in his shorts, is too hard to ignore. He taps the head of it on your clit and you both jolt at the contact. Rin slicks himself with your arousal before he nestles his cock between the glistening lips of your pussy. His entire body runs even hotter now that he’s inside you. Maybe he should’ve left the AC blasting after all.  

He rocks into you so deep that the headboard knocks into the wall. More of your arousal gushes out of you with each determined thrust. Your hips lift to meet his and Rin grits out a swear. He can’t believe the way you’re unconsciously reacting to him. 

He takes hold of your waist and fucks into you hard. Your pussy clenches down on him so tight he feels white hot pleasure sear down his spine. You’re so pretty like this, fucking yourself on him in your dreams. You whimper and moan until a focused thrust into your sweet spot makes your eyelids flutter. Rin grips your waist even tighter, intent on waking you up now. He needs your eyes on him. He slows his pace to deep, languid thrusts of his hips into yours.  

“Rin, what’s going on?” you ask sleepily. 

Rin cradles the back of your head in his hand and lifts it so you can see where you two are joined. Your body tenses, your brow dips as you come hard on his cock. Each scream of his name sends shivers down his back. He slows his movements so he can watch the pleasure surge through you.  

You lift yourself onto your elbows and kiss him like you would much rather devour him instead. He groans when you take his bottom lip between your teeth and tug.  

“Oh, my fucking god,” you moan into his mouth. “Fuck me again. Want you deeper, baby.” 

 Rin pulls away from you abruptly, leaving you gasping as he moves to stand up. You look about 5 seconds away from cursing him when he takes hold of your hips and pulls them to the edge of the bed. He sinks his cock back into you and really fucks you into the mattress. The way you’re looking at him in awe, with unshed tears shining in your eyes, makes him feel like he’s your god. Like he means everything to you.  

He needs to show you that you mean everything to him, too. 

Rin hooks his arms under your knees and pushes them back until they’re nearly flush against the bed. You whimper as he fucks against your sweet spot more sharply than before. He’s focused on making you scream his name again and again and again, until it’s the last word on your lips.  

Rin kneels onto the bed and bends you in half. He grunts at how soft and hot your tight walls feel around his cock. They draw him closer to your core so you can melt into each other. 

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” you whimper tearfully. You grab onto his lower back to pull him deeper still.  

Your lips part on a heated cry of his name, and you stick your tongue out for him. He’s turned on but confused by the sight beneath him until he realizes that drool is dripping from his panting mouth. Rin lets it drip between your parted lips, then he spits onto the center of your tongue. You sound absolutely debauched beneath him as you groan his name and it shuts down his brain completely.  He lowers himself onto his elbows and kisses you again. Rin licks along the length of your tongue and you jerk up into him. 

“Fuck,” he grunts as your pussy pulses around him. Rin reaches between your trembling bodies to play with your clit as his thrusts slow. He kisses and licks your neck, and you tighten around him. The snug fit of you wrapped around him is almost too much. He hisses again and sinks his teeth into your frantic pulse point.  

“Rin!” you shriek as pleasure washes over you. He’s never seen you more satisfied. And it’s all because of him. 

He shivers when you run your fingers through his hair. You drag your nails along his scalp and Rin moans. He feels your touch everywhere, down to the soles of his feet. His rhythm stutters as you pet along either side of his neck, stroking from under his ear to his shoulder. Gentle caresses that burn him up inside. He’s so close, and you being so affectionate with him is fanning the flames. 

You rest your hands on either side of his neck and press your thumbs into it. Rin’s mind goes blank. He drops his full weight on top of you, his heart beating out of his chest, desperate to reach yours. He presses into you sloppily, near delirium as he cums for you. 

He gulps in a lungful of air when you release him, and he kisses you boneless into the bed. You push at his chest so you can both steady your breaths. Wonder sparkles in your gaze.

“Wow...Just when I thought you couldn’t get any sexier,” you sigh into his mouth.  

Rin’s entire body heats up and he buries his face into your neck again. He grows even hotter when your carefree laughter reaches his ears, as embarrassing as it is captivating.  

“Don’t worry, baby,” you say into Rin’s hair. “I’ll be sure to return the favor.” 

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Well since we introduced blue & yellow Ena to sleep, how would DreamBBQ Ena react to other Ena sleeping since most Enas don’t sleep. What if we tried to introduce sleeping to her too (I’m thinking this takes place after that one post about blue & yellow Ena and DreamBBQ Ena meeting up yknow)

Yeah! I'm glad you liked those hcs!

Note: To differentiate between the two, Dream BBQ Ena is "ƎNA" and Webseries Ena is just "Ena"

...............

After the initially awkward meeting of the two ENAs (in which you had to calm down your partner after ƎNA's Meanie side made her cry), things finally start looking up. They're actually getting along better than you thought.

It finally sank in that they could relate to each other's experiences, finding common ground in dealing with entities who find them unlikeable and even "dangerous" to be around.

You become fast friends with ƎNA, who always makes time to visit you and Ena in-between assignments (or when her current task so-happens to be along the route where your residence is located).

It was inevitable that your blue/yellow girlfriend might feel insecure about being the "unemployed" ENA sometimes, wishing she was brash and confident like Meanie, or charismatic and calculated like Salesperson. But you always reassure her she's your first and only love in this world, and no other ENA could win your heart the way she did.

Before being introduced to sleep, she probably would've had a dozen breakdowns over the idea of you liking an ENA who seemed better put-together. But now that she had improved emotional regulation, she trusts your word and doesn't mind you hanging out with her.

Speaking of sleep, you mentioned it to ƎNA off hand one day, and she goes "Well, I never considered selling mattresses as a side-hustle, but-"

When you explain it more in-depth, you come to realize she hasn't experienced that for herself either....

'Damn, does ANY member of her species know what sleep is????'

So now, you'll also have to convince her that she could use it, but both sides find it to be a baffling concept. A disruption to her work routine that she initially rejects--although while Salesperson verbally lists every possible con until they become nonsensical strings of business jargon, Meanie simply says it would be a "waste of time" to sleep the hours away...although that's her only argument, and you could tell she's lying to herself.

You show her evidence and statistics that prove when humans get sufficient sleep, their productivity levels typically go up. And in case she was still skeptical and believed her species didn't benefit from it, you tell her that Ena is living proof that it's actually highly beneficial towards her emotional regulation.

Of course, ƎNA's emotions were more in-sync with each other, capable of getting her point across in a coherent manner. But you knew her job could be taxing especially with her share of rude entities and demeaning labor, so you plead for her to at least consider trying to sleep.

For a while, it seems like you've been talking to a brick wall.

But one night, she finally takes your advice when she suddenly appears at your residence, hungover and stuck as her humanesque self, which startles Ena as she wonders why she looked so much like you (minus the big gaping hole in her torso).

Before you could answer, ƎNA just... faceplants onto your bed without permission, and the orange projection of Meanie fizzles into reality to explain herself. "Sorry to barge in like this. I had the worst trip and my head still hurts. So I'm willing to give this "sleep" a try....how long till my free trial expires?"

"Oh! Uh...there's no time limit." You reassure her. "You can stay for as long as you want."

"I concur." Your girlfriend nods. "You just rest your pretty little head and don't worry about a thing!"

Meanie just nods and disappears, while her human self tries to fall asleep.

When Ena leaves to take a call from Moony, you realize ƎNA is now staring at you with her eyes wide open, even though you can clearly see the exhaustion in them.

It seems like she's not allowing herself to sleep. It's obvious that she wants to...yet feels like she needs to get back to her job and shouldn't be allowed this "luxury"-

"You know, it helps to close your eyes." You chuckle, sitting beside her and rubbing her back soothingly. "You're safe here. Don't worry about anything else right now, okay?"

Somehow, your gesture quiets the noise in her head, and she has this small smile of content on her face as her eyelids grow heavier.

She thanks you, although the words aren't any louder than a hoarse whisper. But you hear them and smile back.

Once you know for sure she's out cold, you put the blanket over her and leave the room, informing Ena that your mission was a success.

"Wonderful! One by one, you're teaching us the perks of sleeping! It's really, truly, undeniably---the nicest thing you've evewr done for us!! Why are you so nice???? How can you tolerwate us???" She hugs you tightly, giving you a kiss.

"I'm just doing what's right." You smile. "It's helped our relationship improve a lot, and I think it'll improve her job performance, too."

"True and true! But in regards to my question from earlier...."

"Oh, that's just....a glitch in her system. Like whenever you get drunk and have sharp teeth and horns growing out of you."

"....ah, that makes sense! Weird how she doesn't do that, though. Hmm..she's a strange one, indeed."

[eepwtf]

MY HEAVENLY ANGEL

summary: stiles stilinski has always been the kind of guy whose curiosity gets the better of him. but when his guardian angel starts appearing to him in all their ethereal glory, curiosity turns into something darker, something dirtier. and despite their pure intentions, even angels aren't immune to the sinful pull of human desire. after all, isn't God always watching? (it’s a little rushed, the idea just came to me when i was writing spn!stiles’ backstory sigh…)

warnings; eating out an angel, stiles being a freak, voyeurism /exhibitionism (because God is always watching) don’t know what else to say, it’s just smut.

it started innocently enough, as most catastrophes do.

stiles was lying in bed, staring at his popcorn ceiling and pondering the sheer mediocrity of his life. his latest brush with the supernatural had left him rattled but alive, and he'd muttered a quick "thanks" to whatever celestial being was responsible for his continued survival. he didn't expect a response.

and yet, there you were.

at first, he thought he'd fallen asleep and was dreaming. you stood at the foot of his bed, a faint glow surrounding you, your eyes wide and otherworldly, your hands clasped in front of you as though you were the one nervous to be seen.

"who—what are you?" he stammered, sitting up and clutching his blanket like a shield.

you tilted your head, the gesture slow and deliberate, almost… birdlike. "’m your guardian angel," you said softly, your voice carrying a melody no human throat could produce. "i’ve been watching over you."

that’s was how it began. you’d appear at the oddest times—when he was studying, brushing his teeth, driving. always with that serene, unreadable expression. stiles couldn’t help but notice the way your gaze lingered on him, curious yet unassuming, as though trying to decipher what made him tick.

but then the watching turned into something else.

stiles wasn’t sure when exactly his thoughts started getting... inappropriate. maybe it was the time you perched on his desk while he worked on a paper, leaning so close that he could feel the warmth radiating from your body—if angels even had bodies, which wasn’t something he should be thinking about, what the hell was wrong with him. or maybe it was the time you appeared in his room soaking wet, your clothes clinging to you as water dripped onto the carpet. you’d claimed you’d been “cleansing yourself” in the rain, but the look on your face made it seem like you knew exactly what you were doing.

and god, the way you said things sometimes—your words always came out too calm, too deliberate, with a slight edge that made his skin prickle. like you were aware of your own power, of what you could do to him if you wanted. stiles couldn’t tell if you were mocking him or just... existing in a way that wrecked his sanity.

still, he tried to brush it off. he tried. you were an angel. angels weren’t supposed to be… hot? no, no, not hot, that was wrong—ethereal. otherworldly. totally not something a human should look at and ache.

but stiles was stiles, and of course his brain couldn’t leave well enough alone.

there was that time you’d bent over to inspect something on his desk, and he’d immediately clamped a hand over his eyes, muttering something about boundaries. you just blinked at him, completely unfazed. “are you unwell?” you asked, your voice soft, like you genuinely cared.

and maybe that was the worst part—the caring. You didn’t just watch him; you noticed things. the twitch in his hands when he was anxious. the way his breathing hitched when he lied. the tightness in his voice when he tried to joke away the heaviness in his chest. you noticed all of it, and instead of judging him, you… stayed.

which made everything worse.

he couldn’t stop thinking about you. couldn’t stop thinking about your hands, delicate yet strong, and the way they’d brushed against his once when you handed him a notebook he’d dropped. couldn’t stop thinking about your voice, low and lilting, curling around his name like a prayer. couldn’t stop thinking about your eyes, how they seemed to see through him, stripping him bare until he didn’t know where stiles ended and you began.

either way, stiles knew he was going straight to hell for the things he thought about when you were around.

"you’re supposed to be... holy," he said one night, trying to keep his eyes anywhere but on the curve of your lips or the soft swell of your chest. "aren’t you?"

you tilted your head, genuinely confused. "of course i am. but i don't understand why that bothers you so much."

"’s not that it bothers me, it’s just—" he gestured vaguely at your form. "do angels normally look like that?”

your brows furrowed. "like what?"

"like they walked off a Calvin Klein runway!" he blurted, immediately regretting it. "i mean, come on, the hair, the glow, the whole—" his hands flailed as he tried to encompass your entire existence in one gesture.

you smiled, a faint flush spreading across your cheeks. "i take on a form you’d find pleasing. does this one... please you?"

stiles choked. "uh, yeah, sure, it’s great—very pleasing."

the knowing look in your eyes made his skin prickle.

it came to a head one night when he woke to find you standing by his window, bathed in moonlight. you weren’t glowing this time, but there was something even more divine about the way the light kissed your skin, illuminating every curve, every line.

"do you ever sleep?" he asked groggily, his voice rough from sleep.

"angels don’t need rest," you replied without turning, your tone calm, matter-of-fact, like you weren’t haunting his room in the middle of the night, looking like that.

"must be nice," he muttered, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. his heart was already racing, though he didn’t want to think about why.

you turned to face him then, and for once, your expression wasn’t unreadable. there was something soft about it, something… human. it threw him off balance. "you were dreaming about me again."

stiles froze, his blood going ice-cold and boiling hot all at once. "uh, what?"

"your dreams," you said, stepping closer. "they're always... vivid."

"okay, first of all, rude," he said, his voice cracking. "second of all, you watch me sleep? isn’t that, like, against angel code or something?"

you frowned, genuinely perplexed, your head tilting like you genuinely didn’t understand the problem. "i’m your guardian. watching over you is my duty."

"yeah, well, maybe watch a little less when i’m unconscious, okay?"

but you didn’t step back. if anything, you moved closer, your gaze dropping to his lips, then lower.

"do you want me to leave?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

he swallowed hard, his pulse pounding in his ears. he should’ve said yes. he should’ve. but instead, the word came out like a confession:

"no."

and that was it.

stiles wasn’t sure who made the first move. one moment you were standing by his bed, and the next you were straddling his lap, your hands tangled in his hair, your lips hot and insistent against his.

it was surreal, the way you melted into him, the way your body—so soft, so warm, so human—pressed against his like you’d been made to fit there. every nerve in his body was on fire, and yet he couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t get enough of you.

“is this… allowed?” he gasped when you pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, his hands trembling against your hips. his voice was rough, desperate.

“don’t know,” you admitted, your breath hitching as his fingers tightened, grounding themselves in your skin. “but it feels… right.”

“God’s probably watching,” he said, a crooked grin tugging at his lips, though there was a flicker of guilt in his eyes.

"let him," you whispered, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "He created me, didn’t He? He made me like this—for you."

the weight of your words sent a shiver down his spine.

"jesus christ," he muttered, his grip tightening on you.

"wrong deity," you teased, your smile wicked.

and then there was no room for talking.

the next kiss was hungrier, more desperate, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as if the space between you was unbearable. stiles’ hands roamed your body with a reverence that made your skin burn under his touch. his fingers trailed the curve of your waist, lingering at the small of your back before gliding down to your thighs, gripping them with a possessiveness that sent shivers up your spine.

"you feel... warm," he murmured against your lips, his voice husky, thick with wonder. his fingers traced the curve of your waist, lingering at the small of your back before sliding lower, squeezing like he needed to anchor himself.

"so do you," you whispered, your breath hitching as his lips trailed along your jaw, then down your neck. your fingers tangled in his shirt, pulling him closer, deeper, until his scent, his heat, his everything surrounded you.

stiles’ hands trembled as he tugged at your clothes—not out of hesitation, but from sheer need. with every layer he peeled away, his breath hitched, his eyes growing darker, hungrier, devouring the sight of you. his lips followed the path of his hands, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, the hollow of your throat, the curve of your shoulder.

"god, you’re beautiful," he breathed, his voice almost reverent, but there was something feral behind his gaze, something that made your chest tighten and your thighs press together instinctively.

"don’t use His name like that," you teased softly, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips even as his words sent a shiver down your spine.

"right, sorry," he said, though the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips was anything but apologetic. his hands slid down your sides, his thumbs grazing the soft dip of your hips before settling on your thighs, his fingers flexing possessively. "but seriously… you're unreal."

the last of your clothes fell away, leaving you bare under the soft glow of moonlight. stiles leaned back for a moment, his eyes roaming your body with an intensity that made you feel both exposed and cherished.

"are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice quieter now, but no less urgent.

"yes," you whispered, your fingers curling against his shoulders, nails pressing into the soft cotton of his shirt as your legs shifted restlessly beneath him. "want this. want you."

that was all he needed to hear.

his lips crashed against yours, hot and desperate, his hands roaming your body with a reverence that made your skin burn under his touch. every kiss, every brush of his fingers felt like he was memorizing you, committing every curve and line of your body to memory. his kisses trailed lower, down the line of your jaw and across your neck, his tongue flicking out to taste the salt of your skin.

“you’re so soft,” he murmured, his voice rough as his lips moved down to your collarbone. his hands slid to your waist, gripping you firmly, grounding himself in the feel of you as if you might slip away at any moment.

your breath hitched as his mouth found the curve of your breast, his tongue tracing the sensitive skin with maddening precision. his hand followed, cupping you gently, his thumb brushing over your hardened nipple in a way that made you arch into him.

when he reached the apex of your thighs, you tensed, your body trembling under the weight of his gaze. he paused, his hands resting on your hips, his thumbs brushing soothing circles into your skin.

"you’re trembling," he murmured, his voice low and thick with need.

"’m nervous," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"don’t be," he said, his lips quirking into a crooked smile as he pressed a kiss to your inner thigh. "i’ll take care of you. promise."

he kissed his way lower, pausing just above the apex of your thighs. his hands slid down to your knees, gently coaxing them further apart, and the cool air against your bare skin made you shiver. his gaze flicked up to yours, and the heat in his eyes made your breath catch.

"you’re so soft," he murmured, his fingers tracing the delicate skin of your inner thighs. "so perfect."

the first brush of his lips against your core made you gasp, your hips jerking instinctively at the sudden jolt of pleasure. stiles groaned at your reaction, the sound low and guttural, sending heat pooling low in your stomach.

"easy, angel," he muttered, his breath hot against your slick folds. "let me take my time with you."

and he did. stiles licked a long, languid stripe up the length of your slick folds, his tongue swirling around your clit before dipping lower to taste you. the noises he made—soft groans of approval as he tasted you, hums of satisfaction as your body writhed beneath him—only heightened the fire coursing through you. his lips closed around your swollen clit, sucking gently, and the sensation was enough to make your vision blur.

“stiles,” you gasped, your hands flying to his hair, threading through the messy strands as you tried to ground yourself against the overwhelming tide of sensation.

"that’s it," he rasped against you, his voice rough and gravelly. "let me hear how good i make you feel, angel."

his tongue delved between your folds, exploring every inch of you with a thoroughness that bordered on worship. he alternated between teasing your clit with quick, flicking strokes and thrusting his tongue inside you, tasting you from the inside out. the wet, obscene sounds of his mouth against you filled the room, and the sheer intimacy of it made your cheeks flush. you gasped, your fingers threading through his hair and tugging, but it only seemed to spur him on.

"you taste so fucking good,” he groaned, his voice muffled against you. he tilted his head, changing the angle, and the sound that escaped you—a sharp, desperate cry—made him growl in response. his fingers digging into your thighs as he pulled you closer to his mouth, as if he could consume you whole.

when he slid a finger inside you, curling it to press against that perfect spot, your back arched off the bed, a sharp cry tearing from your throat. he groaned at the way you clenched around him, his hips grinding into the mattress unconsciously as his own arousal built. he added a second finger, thrusting them in and out in a steady rhythm that left you gasping.

"fuck, you’re so tight," he muttered, his voice thick with need. "so wet for me."

his tongue returned to your clit, circling it with deliberate precision before sucking it into his mouth. the combined sensation of his tongue and fingers was overwhelming, and your body tensed as a wave of pleasure began to build, tightening with every movement.

you could feel his own body trembling against the bed, like he was barely holding himself together. every gasp, every twitch of your thighs, seemed to fuel him, his movements growing more fervent, more desperate. his stubble scraped against your sensitive skin, the sensation a sharp contrast to the heat of his mouth, and it made you gasp, your hips bucking against his face.

“fuck, stiles.” you cried, your fingers tugging hard at his hair, your legs shaking uncontrollably.

“yeah?” he muttered against you, his voice rough and almost teasing. “that good, angel?”

“shut up,” you gasped, but your words held no bite, your voice breaking into a whimper as he thrust his fingers deeper, his tongue swirling over your clit with unrelenting precision.

he chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your core, and it made you tremble even harder. “can’t help it,” he said, his lips brushing against you as he spoke. “you’re just—God, i could do this forever.”

he shifted slightly, pulling your hips closer to his face, his grip bruising as he held you in place. you couldn’t move if you tried—not that you wanted to. all you could do was lie there, your body arching into his touch as he worked you over like he’d been made for this. like he’d been designed to unravel you.

the obscene wet sounds of his mouth on you filled the room, punctuated by your soft gasps and cries. his fingers curled again, dragging over that perfect spot inside you, and your thighs clamped instinctively around his head, trapping him there.

stiles groaned, clearly loving it. he pulled back just enough to grin up at you, his lips and chin glistening, his eyes blazing with lust. “you trying to suffocate me, angel?”

“don’t tempt me,” you shot back breathlessly, your hands still tangled in his hair, trying to pull him back down.

“oh, i’m tempted,” he said, his grin widening before he dove back in with even more fervor, his tongue and fingers moving faster, harder.

you arched off the bed again, your entire body trembling as the pleasure built higher and higher, coiling tight in your stomach. you felt like you were teetering on the edge of something overwhelming, something that threatened to consume you completely.

“shit, i can’t—”

“yes, you can,” he growled against you, his voice rough and commanding. “i’ve got you. let me take care of you.”

his words only pushed you closer to the edge, the heat between your legs becoming almost unbearable. you couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but feel. stiles seemed to sense it, his free hand sliding up your body to grasp your breast, his thumb brushing over your sensitive nipple in time with the flicks of his tongue.

you were trembling all over now, your legs quaking against his shoulders, your nails digging into his scalp. he wasn’t stopping, wasn’t slowing down, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could hold on.

“fuck,” he muttered, pulling back for a brief moment to catch his breath. his lips were swollen and slick, his face flushed, and his hair was a wild mess from where your fingers had tugged at it. he looked wrecked, and it only made you hotter.

“you’re so fucking beautiful like this,” he said, his voice low and rough. “falling apart for me. you have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

you glanced down at him, and your breath hitched when you saw the way his hips pressed against the bed, his obvious arousal straining against the fabric of his boxers. he was rutting against the mattress, unable to stop himself, and the sight of him so desperate, so undone by you, made your head spin.

“stiles…” you whispered, your voice shaky, and he groaned, ducking his head back between your thighs, his lips and tongue resuming their assault.

you weren’t going to last much longer. he wasn’t going to let you.

stiles' fingers worked deeper, curling inside you with a perfect rhythm that made your legs shake uncontrollably. his mouth was relentless, his tongue flicking over your clit in maddening circles, then sucking gently before starting all over again. he was completely lost in you—your taste, your scent, the way your body writhed under his touch.

your hips jerked upward, seeking more of the heat of his mouth, the pressure of his fingers. every nerve in your body was on fire, coiled so tightly you thought you might snap. stiles could feel it too; he groaned into you, his voice vibrating against your sensitive core, and it pushed you that much closer to the edge.

"you're trembling s’much," he murmured, lifting his mouth just enough to let his breath ghost over your soaked skin. his fingers continued their steady thrusts, his palm pressing against your clit in teasing pulses. "you're right there, aren’t you? c’mon, angel... let go. let me feel it."

his words sent a shudder through you, your thighs tightening around his head. stiles buried himself deeper, his tongue returning to your clit with renewed focus, his lips closing around it as his fingers curled again, finding that perfect spot that made your vision blur.

“stiles, oh—fuck,” your hands flew to his hair, holding him there as your body arched sharply off the bed, your head thrown back as the tension finally snapped.

a wave of pleasure crashed over you, raw and all-consuming, leaving you gasping for air as you came undone beneath him. heat spread through your body, every nerve lit up as your release coated his fingers, his mouth, soaking him in your arousal.

"that’s it angel," he said again, his voice dripping with satisfaction. his hips grinding into the mattress as he worked you through it, his tongue lapping at you like a man starved.

he finally pulled back slightly, his lips swollen and shining, his eyes dark as he looked up at you. his chin and cheeks were slick with your arousal, and he wore it like a badge of honor, his grin crooked and breathless.

"that’s my girl," he muttered, his voice thick with pride and awe. "did so good for me." his grin widening as he climbed over you, his body pressing against yours, solid and warm. his lips found yours, and you could taste yourself on him. but even as he kissed you, his hips pressing against yours, you could feel the hard, insistent heat of him through his boxers. “gonna take care of me aren’t you? gonna be a good little angel for me.”

and somewhere, in the back of his mind, he swore he could hear God laughing.

[this-is-tiny-mia]

Reply All (H.S. Fic) | Chapter 7 | +18

General Masterlist

uni!harry x fem!reader PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6

Summary: Y/N and Harry were childhood best friends, inseparable through every laugh, secret, and growing pain. But high school brought unspoken feelings and decisions that tore them apart, leaving both with unanswered questions. Years later, a class project challenges them to face their shared past and uncover the truths they’ve both been running from. And a wrong click unveils the past and what will be the future.

Word count: 5.3k

A/n: Hello my loves! here's the final chapter! i loved writing this, i love doing a bit of a grumpy y/n so if you're here, thanks for sticking! I LOVE YOU.

Warnings: Sickness, A kiss while being sick (if that icks you i'm sorry), smut, oral sex (m to f), fingering, unprotected sex.

You woke up around 5 p.m., drenched in sweat and disoriented, unsure if it was sunrise or sunset. Blinking twice, you tried to piece together where you were. It took a moment, but everything became clear when your eyes landed on Harry.

He was seated at your desk, focused on his computer. The soft glow of the screen lit up his face, and you noticed he was dressed differently than before—now in sweatpants and a cozy-looking shirt. Your gaze shifted to the duffel bag sitting beside him, and it clicked that he must have already gone to his dorm to grab clothes.

You stretched slightly, but something was different now. Your head felt clearer, the fever seemed to have subsided, and even your throat wasn’t as raw. The room was dim, the warm hues of the setting sun filtering through the curtains, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace washing over you.

Harry heard the rustle of the blanket as you moved, he turned his head, his face lighting up immediately. “You’re awake,” he said, a hint of relief in his voice. He set his laptop aside and stood up, walking over to you. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” you admitted, your voice still a little hoarse but much stronger than earlier. “I think I sweated out the worst of it.”

He smiled, a lopsided grin that made your heart flutter despite yourself. “Good. I was starting to worry”

You chuckled softly, sitting up against the pillows. “You’ve already gone above and beyond, Harry. I mean... Tylenol, soup, and now babysitting me?”

“Someone has to make sure you don’t overheat or try to convince yourself you’re fine when you’re clearly not,” he said, smirking. “Besides, Juliet made it clear I was on duty tonight.”

You laughed at that, feeling more like yourself with each passing moment. “Well, she chose wisely.”

Harry glanced at you, his expression softening. “I also brought tea. It’s probably cold now, but I can heat it up if you want?”

“Maybe in a bit, i need a shower” you said, suddenly aware of how comfortable everything felt—the warm blanket, the quiet hum of his presence, and the way his concern seemed so genuine, so effortless. “Thanks for being here. Really.”

He shrugged, sitting on the edge of your bed. “I’d say it’s nothing, but... it’s you. So it’s everything.”

You looked at him, his sincerity disarming you. For once, you didn’t feel the need to deflect or make a joke. Instead, you let yourself take it in, the feeling of being cared for—by him.

After the shower, you felt significantly better. The ache in your muscles had disappeared, and the lingering haze from your fever was all but gone. When you stepped back into the room, Harry glanced up from his laptop and smiled softly.

“Looking much better,” he said, closing the screen and standing.

“Thanks. I feel human again,” you replied, pulling a cozy hoodie over your head.

He leaned against the desk, arms crossed casually. “Well, in that case, what do you say to a movie night? Something chill, nothing too heavy.”

You nodded, grateful for the idea. “Sounds perfect. What are our options?”

Harry reached for his laptop again. “I’ve got a good selection. We could go for something classic—maybe The Princess Bride? Or if you want something newer, there’s La La Land. Or if you’re secretly into action, we could do Inception.”

You laughed, sitting on the edge of the bed. “That’s a solid range. Let’s keep it simple. The Princess Bride sounds nice.”

“A classic it is,” he said with a grin, setting the laptop up on your desk and angling it perfectly toward the bed.

While he worked on setting up the movie, you grabbed your favorite blanket and tossed it over the bed. Harry joined you, sitting close but leaving a polite bit of space. You noticed the way he checked on you every so often, subtly glancing over to make sure you were okay.

As the movie started, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of ease settle over you. The familiar dialogue and whimsical charm of the film pulled you in, and soon enough, you were both laughing at the antics of the characters. At one point, your hand brushed against Harry’s as you reached for the mug of tea on the nightstand. The touch was brief, but it sent a flicker of warmth through you. You glanced at him, catching a quick smile before his attention turned back to the screen.

By the time the movie reached its iconic “As you wish” scene, you were leaning a little closer to him, your head almost resting on his shoulder. You hadn’t even realized how natural it felt until he adjusted slightly, just enough to make you more comfortable. 

When the credits rolled, neither of you moved immediately. The room felt quiet but not awkward, filled with a sense of unspoken contentment. Harry finally broke the silence.

“So, verdict?” he asked.

“Still one of the best movies ever,” you said, smiling.

He nodded, looking at you with a soft expression. “Good choice.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, but the closeness between you felt electric. You were starting to realize it wasn’t just the tea, the shower, or the movie that made you feel better. It was him—his presence, his care, and the way he made everything feel a little easier. And that’s how life felt before the whole mess started. This whole “beginning again” thing was stirring up so many flashbacks from when you were kids…and right now, in this moment, you remembered something.

“Do you remember when we were kids and we used to go to that park your mum loved?” you asked.

“Sure. I remember Janice breaking his nose there trying to ride a bike,” he chuckled.

“Yeah, but…do you remember us building sandcastles in the sandbox?” you said, your tone softer.

“Uh…not particularly. Why?” he asked, tilting his head in curiosity.

“I just…I remember seeing you there and thinking, Why am I nauseous?”

“Nauseous? I made you nauseous?” he asked, looking completely baffled.

“No, no,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “That’s what I thought. Like, every time I looked at you, and you offered me a stick to act as a fence or something, I felt…nauseous?”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not sure I’m following,” he said, chuckling lightly.

“I wasn’t nauseous,” you said, the realization dawning on you as you spoke. “I was…literally experiencing liking someone for the first time, and I didn’t even know it. And probably, I got so used to that feeling with you that I just…mixed it up with how good of friends we were. So, I never craved more.”

The words tumbled out of you as you pieced everything together, the realization settling deeper as you looked at him. He was quiet, processing what you’d just said, but the softness in his expression told you he understood.

“I hate you so much,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence.

“What?” you chuckled, caught off guard. “Why?”

“Because here you are, practically telling me you had a crush on me, and now all I want to do is kiss you—but you’re sick,” he blurted out, his voice laced with frustration and a touch of humor.

You smiled, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. Whether it was from your fever or his words, you couldn’t tell, but your nervous grin gave you away. “That’s…unfortunate timing for you, huh?” you teased lightly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He groaned, leaning back against the couch with a laugh. “You have no idea.”

"I wouldn’t mind," you said, feeling bold, the words tumbling out before you could overthink them. You’d been craving this—since the date, since everything started all over again.

Harry’s head turned toward you, his eyes locking onto yours. For a moment, he looked like he wasn’t sure he’d heard you correctly. Then his lips parted as if to say something, but no words came out.

"You’re not serious," he finally managed, his voice low, as if testing the waters.

You gave a small shrug, though your heart was pounding. “I’m just saying... I wouldn’t mind.”

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his gaze unwavering. “You’re feverish. I’d feel like I’m taking advantage,” he said, his voice soft but firm.

You couldn’t help but laugh lightly, the sound filling the cozy space between you. “I’m feverish but i’m not drunk. You’re not taking advantage. I’ve been waiting for this, Harry. And, fever or not, I know what I want.”

That was all it took. In an instant, his hand reached out, cupping your cheek gently, his thumb brushing against your warm skin as if he were trying to memorize the moment. He paused, just inches away, his breath mingling with yours.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice barely audible.

Instead of answering, you closed the gap, pressing your lips softly to his. His hesitation melted away as he kissed you back, tender and unhurried, like he’d been waiting for this as long as you had.

Time seemed to stop. The world outside disappeared, leaving just the two of you in this small, perfect moment. When you finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Worth the risk,” he murmured, his voice filled with a mix of awe and relief. “And the wait” You laughed, still catching your breath. “Even if I’m a little germy?”

“Even then,” he said, his grin widening. “Totally worth it.”

After that, he took a Tylenol, just to be cautious. But honestly, he didn’t care if he got sick. He was ecstatic. He was complete—or at least, that’s how he felt. It was as if every piece of his world had clicked into place at that moment.

And you? You felt it too. The kiss had shattered the walls you’d so carefully built around yourself, letting in a rush of emotions you hadn’t allowed yourself to fully feel before. For the first time in what felt like forever, you let go of the hesitance, the doubt, and just allowed yourself to exist in the moment.

The evening rolled on, and Harry stayed true to his self-assigned role of caretaker. He made sure you ate more of the dinner he’d brought, despite your protests of being “full enough.” With gentle persistence, he handed you another glass of water, even pressing the back of his hand to your forehead every so often to check if your fever was breaking.

“You’re relentless,” you mumbled

“And you’re stubborn,” he shot back with a smirk, adjusting the blanket over your legs. “Drink. Please.”

You sighed, taking the glass and sipping obediently. 

As the night deepened, he moved Juliet’s pillows and a spare blanket onto her bed, quietly setting up his spot for the night. “You okay for now? Need anything else?”

You shook your head, your eyelids already growing heavy. “I’m fine. Thanks, Harry.”

“Alright,” he said softly, switching off the desk lamp and settling into Juliet’s bed. Within minutes, his breathing had evened out, signaling he’d fallen asleep.

But you weren’t ready to sleep just yet. You turned slightly in your bed, the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains casting faint shadows across the room. Your gaze fell on him, his face peaceful and boyish in rest.

The physical discomfort of your fever lingered, but it felt distant now. Instead, what filled you was a warmth that had nothing to do with the blankets or medicine. It was a kind of well-being that made your chest feel light, like everything might actually be okay.

You let yourself linger in the moment, memorizing the way he looked, how his presence filled the space with a quiet sense of security. Then, with a small, contented sigh, you closed your eyes and let sleep take over.

🌷

A couple of days passed, and the fog of sickness that had hung over you finally lifted. Harry had stayed one more night, ensuring you were on the mend before reluctantly packing up his duffel bag and heading back to his dorm. Juliet returned shortly after, bringing her usual energy and a sarcastic quip about how Harry probably did a better job of taking care of you than she ever could.

Life settled back into a rhythm—or at least it seemed to. But there was something different now, something undeniably electric about the way you and Harry communicated.

Your text conversations, once filled with casual jokes and the occasional study question, had taken on a flirty edge.

Harry: "I think I’ve officially retired as your nurse. It was exhausting. I deserve compensation—like a coffee date?"

You: "Compensation? Excuse me, you got a kiss out of it. But sure, I’ll think about it... if you’re lucky."

Harry: "Oh, I’m definitely lucky."

And then there were the moments in person—those stolen, shy kisses that neither of you acknowledged outright but couldn’t seem to resist. They happened on late nights when he’d walk you back to your dorm after a group study session or a casual hangout.

One night, standing at the steps of your building, he’d leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. “Is it okay if I...?”

You didn’t let him finish, stepping forward to close the gap, your lips brushing his in a kiss so soft it left you both breathless.

“Goodnight, Harry,” you murmured afterward, your cheeks burning as you turned to head inside.

“Goodnight,” he called after you, his voice tinged with disbelief and quiet elation.

Those moments became your new normal—small, precious secrets shared between just the two of you. It was thrilling and terrifying all at once, the kind of connection that felt like stepping into uncharted territory but made you crave more with every step.

And the days following those late-night kisses were a whirlwind of unspoken emotions and undeniable chemistry. You and Harry had fallen into a rhythm that neither of you dared to question, as though you were both afraid that speaking it aloud might break the fragile magic of what was unfolding.

At classes, he’d save you a seat, casually throwing his bag on the desk next to him until you arrived. During group discussions, he’d nudge you with his knee under the table whenever he thought you were zoning out. And when you caught him staring at you—his lips forming a lopsided smile as soon as your eyes met—it sent shivers down your spine every time.

Texting had become a constant, an extension of the conversations you didn’t want to end when you were apart.

You: "I just saw the cutest dog on campus. It reminded me of you."

Harry: "I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult. Am I cute or... furry?"

You: "Cute, obviously. Don’t ruin it."

Harry: "You think I’m cute? Interesting development. Should I tell everyone?"

Late at night, the walks back to your dorm stretched longer, neither of you wanting to say goodbye too quickly. The kisses became less shy and more deliberate—still soft, still careful, but now with the kind of warmth that made you feel like you’d never be cold again.

One evening, as you both lingered near the steps of your building, Harry brushed his fingers against yours, letting them tangle for a moment before pulling back.

“You know,” he started, his voice low and steady, “I never thought you were ever going to forgive me”

Your breath caught, your eyes meeting his in the soft glow of the streetlamp.

“But somehow I just…felt like I needed to try” he continued, his gaze unwavering. “And now I don’t want to mess this up. Whatever this is, whatever we’re becoming—I just want you to know I’m all in.”

For a moment, you couldn’t speak, your chest tightening with the weight of his words. Then, unable to stop yourself, you reached up, cupping his cheek and pulling him into a kiss that said everything you couldn’t.

When you finally pulled back, your forehead rested against his, a smile tugging at your lips. “I’m all in, too.”

Harry laughed softly, his arms wrapping around you as though he couldn’t believe you were real. You smiled, reaching for his hand. “Thanks for not giving up on me.”

His fingers intertwined with yours, his grip warm and steady. “I never could,” he said simply.

And just like that, you felt it again—the quiet, undeniable certainty that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

🌷

The stolen glances turned into open smiles, the hesitant touches into lingering comfy ones, and the once-awkward tension into something warm and unmistakable. Harry, as always, found a way to make even the smallest moments feel monumental.

The pet names started subtly, slipping into conversation without warning.

“Need help carrying that, baby?” he asked one day as you struggled with a box of supplies for a group project.

You froze mid-step, blinking at him. “Did you just call me… baby?”

“Yeah,” he replied casually, taking the box from your hands. “Why? Don’t like it?”

Your cheeks burned, and you looked away. “It’s fine, I guess.”

Fine wasn’t the word. You loved it, though you’d never admit it aloud.

From there, the nicknames only escalated. “Love” came next, thrown into sentences like it had always been there. “Sunshine” followed, then “Dove,” and finally some funny ones.

“Morning, Blobby,” he greeted one day, completely serious.

“What even is a Blobby?” you asked, laughing.

“Doesn’t matter,” he replied with a wink. “It’s you.”

🌷

The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the heater and the occasional creak of the old dorm bed frame as you shifted nervously. Harry cuddled with you in bed, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made your skin tingle.

His fingers brushed yours, testing the waters, and the soft spark that ran up your arm was enough to make you inhale sharply. You looked up at him, catching the way his green eyes flickered with something deeper, something that seemed to echo your own feelings.

“You’re staring,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the stillness.

“Can you blame me?” he replied, his voice low and warm. His hand moved to your cheek, his thumb tracing a feather-light line along your jaw. “You’re gorgeous.”

You felt the heat bloom in your chest, spreading across your skin. “Harry…” you started, unsure of what you wanted to say, but he cut you off with a soft chuckle.

“Is Juliet coming back soon?,” he murmured, leaning in, his breath brushing against your lips. 

“She’s staying with some guy tonight” you said quickly, your words tumbling out before you could stop them.

Your fingers found his shirt, gripping the fabric as you pulled him closer, your lips meeting his in a kiss that started slow but quickly grew more desperate. His hands slid down your sides, leaving trails of warmth in their wake, and when he pulled you closer, your legs tangled together as if they were meant to fit this way.

His lips left yours, trailing soft kisses along your jaw and down your neck, and the quiet whimper that escaped you was met with a low, satisfied hum from him.

Harry’s kisses grew bolder as his hands found your waist, his thumbs brushing just under the hem of your shirt, teasing. 

“You’re so soft,” he murmured against your skin.

Your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging slightly as you tilted your head to give him better access. He let out a quiet groan, his hands tightening on your hips for just a moment before he pulled back to look at you.

“Are you sure?” he asked softly, his forehead pressing against yours. His eyes searched yours, and the tenderness in them melted whatever nerves had lingered in your chest.

“I’m sure,” you whispered, your voice steady as you reached for him again.

With that, Harry leaned in, capturing your lips in another kiss, this one deeper, slower, and filled with a promise you didn’t need words to understand. His hands slipped under your shirt, gliding over your skin as though he were memorizing every curve and line.

You tugged at his shirt, your movements instinctive, and he broke the kiss just long enough to pull it over his head. Your breath caught as you took him in—the way the soft light caught the lines of his shoulders and the faint freckles and hair scattered across his chest. "Let me take care of you like no one ever has," he murmured, his voice low and full of reverence as his fingers found the hem of your shirt. With a tenderness that made your heart ache, he eased it over your head, revealing more of you to his adoring gaze. His touch, warm and featherlight, traced the delicate lace of your bra, a silent question in his eyes.

"Let me see you... let me taste you," Harry whispered, the words almost a prayer. The way he looked at you, like you were a masterpiece, a goddess made flesh, sent shivers down your spine.

Your breath hitched as his lips found the curve of your shoulder, trailing soft, lingering kisses down to your collarbone.

"You’re perfect," he said, his voice breaking slightly as he unhooked the clasp of your bra with practiced ease, letting it fall away. His gaze darkened as he took you in, his lips parting slightly as though he were trying to catch his breath. "So, so perfect."

You blushed under his intense gaze, feeling both exposed and cherished in a way you'd never experienced before. "Harry," you whispered, reaching out to trace your fingers along his jawline, grounding him in the moment.

"I’ve never wanted anything more," he confessed, his lips finding yours again in a kiss that was deeper, hungrier, but still laced with the same care that made your chest tighten.

His hands found your breasts, slowly, painfully slowly playing with your now hard nipples.

"Let me show you how much you mean to me," Harry murmured against your skin. When his mouth found your breasts, he took his time, swirling his tongue around one nipple, then the other. The small whimpers escaping your lips only spurred him on, his free hand sliding down to cup the curve of your ass. You felt his hardness pressing against you through the thin cotton of his sweatpants, unable to resist, you arched your back, grinding your hips against him, a soft gasp escaping when you felt him twitch in response.

He released your nipple with an audible pop "So pretty... my baby... finally mine, only mine," he whispered.

Your hand slid down between your bodies, palming him over his sweatpants, drawing a guttural groan from deep within his chest. The sound sent a surge of heat through you, your body aching for more of him.

"Let me taste you," Harry mumbled against your skin, his voice thick with desire as his lips continued their descent. His hands gently pushed your thighs apart, his gaze flicking up to meet yours for permission.

You nodded, barely able to breathe, your anticipation mounting as his fingers teased the waistband of your shorts, slowly, he peeled them down, his touch both delicate and deliberate, leaving you in just some pink panties

"Perfect, my baby is soaked," he murmured, his voice low as he settled between your legs, pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Each kiss edged closer to where you needed attention , his breath hot and uneven as he took in the sight of you, his hands gripping your thighs gently to hold you in place. With one finger, he pushed the fabric aside, exposing your aching pussy 

When his tongue finally flicked over you, your head fell back against the pillow, a moan spilling from your lips before you could stop it. Harry groaned against you, the vibration sending a shiver through your body. He wasn’t shy, his tongue licking, kissing, and sucking with such hunger. Each flick and swirl around your clit made your hips buck against him, and he held you firmly, keeping you exactly where he wanted.

As his mouth worked, his fingers traced teasing circles at your entrance.

“Muh-more,” you mumbled, your voice shaky.

He looked up briefly, his green eyes dark, before pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh. “Anything for my baby,” he murmured. He slipped one finger inside, curling it perfectly, and added another, working you slowly while his mouth continued.The wet sounds of his movements and your breathy moans filled the room.

Your hips moved on their own, grinding against his face as the tension inside you grew tighter, each flick of his tongue and pump of his fingers pushing you closer. He groaned into you, the vibration sending a shockwave through your body.

“My perfect girl…come for me baby” he said murmuring Your thighs quivered as the pressure hit its peak, and with a sharp cry, you came undone, your body trembling as waves of pleasure crashed through you. Harry didn’t let up, his mouth and fingers working you through every second, drawing out your release until you were panting and pulling at his hair.

When you finally stilled, he kissed his way up your body, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. You could taste yourself on him, and it only made you want him more. He pressed his hips against yours, letting you feel his hardness through his sweatpants, and you reached between you, tugging at the waistband.

“Your turn,” you whispered, your voice still shaky but full of intent.

Harry’s breath hitched as you tugged at the waistband of his sweatpants, your fingers brushing against him through the fabric. He sat back slightly, watching you with hooded eyes, his chest rising and falling heavily.

“You don’t have to—” he began, but you silenced him with a look.

“I want to,” you said softly, your voice steady this time. You pushed at his sweatpants, and he helped you, shimmying out of them along with his boxers until he was bare before you.

Your eyes roamed over him, your cheeks heating as you took him in. Harry’s cheeks flushed, and he reached to brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch soft despite the hunger in his gaze.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss you, his lips tender against yours. But you didn’t let him linger too long. Instead, you pushed him back gently, and he let you guide him until he was lying on his back.

You straddled him, your hands exploring his chest and shoulders, marveling at the way his muscles tensed under your touch. His hands found your hips, gripping them firmly as he looked up.

“God, you’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice raw.

You leaned down to kiss him, slow and deep, savoring the way he sighed into your mouth. Reaching between you, you took him in your hand, stroking him slowly, your thumb brushing over the tip. Harry groaned, his grip on your hips tightening.

“Baby,” he breathed, his voice shaky.

“So big…so hard” you teased, but your own voice was trembling with anticipation. You guided him to your entrance, his pre-cum mixing with your arousal and then you sank down slowly, taking him inch by inch. Both of you gasped, the sensation overwhelming as you adjusted to him.

Harry’s hands roamed your body—your thighs, your hips, your back—his touch grounding you as you moved against him. The rhythm started slow, the two of you finding a natural pace, but it wasn’t long before the intensity between you grew.

“Mmm, my baby,” he groaned, his voice thick as his hands gripped your hips, guiding you as you rode him.

“Mm-muh,” you tried to speak, but the sensation overwhelmed you, leaving you breathless. Instead, you let your body do the talking, moving faster, your hips grinding against him. The pressure of your clit against his pelvis made you gasp, your movements becoming more desperate as you chased your high.

Harry’s eyes stayed locked on you, his gaze searing as he watched your every move. The bounce of your breasts and the way stray strands of hair clung to your damp face seemed to push him further into his frenzy. His hand reached up, brushing the hair away from your cheek before his thumb traced over your bottom lip.

“Open,” he murmured, his voice a low command.

You parted your lips, understanding immediately, and he slid his thumb inside.

“Suck,” he ordered, a flicker of dominance flashing in his tone.

You obeyed, swirling your tongue around his thumb as you sucked, all while continuing to ride him, your pace quickening as his other hand gripped your ass firmly. The mix of sensations—your warm mouth around his thumb, your slick heat tightening around him, and the way you moved—had him teetering on the edge.

“I’m close,” he warned, his voice strained, a plea hidden in his tone in case you wanted to slow down. But instead of easing up, you sped up, your hips grinding harder against him, a wicked glint in your eyes as you swirled your tongue around his thumb with deliberate intent.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head tipping back against the pillow, his hands sliding to your waist as he tried to anchor himself. The way you moaned and clenched around him while coming was his undoing. His release hit him hard, a deep groan leaving his lips as his hot cum painted your insides, his body trembling as waves of ecstasy coursed through him. He whimpered softly, his grip on your waist tightening as he held you still, savoring the last moments of bliss.

Breathless and flushed, you leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his as you both tried to catch your breath.

Harry didn’t let you move too far. The moment you tried to pull away, his arms tightened around you, keeping you close to his chest. His hand ran soothingly along your back as your breaths slowed, the warmth of his skin grounding you.

“You okay, love?” he murmured, his voice soft, barely above a whisper. His hand brushed your hair back from your face as he searched your eyes, his concern evident.

You nodded, a small, content smile tugging at your lips. “More than okay,” you admitted, your voice slightly hoarse.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before shifting you off him carefully, making sure you were comfortable against the pillows. “Stay right here,” he said as he slipped out of bed, pulling on his sweatpants.

You watched him disappear into the bathroom, the sound of water running followed shortly after. When he returned, he held a damp washcloth in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. He perched on the edge of the bed, his touch impossibly gentle as he cleaned you up, his gaze flicking to yours now and then to make sure you were still okay.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your cheeks warming at the intimacy of the gesture.

He smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple. “Get used to this”

Once he was done, he pulled the covers over you both and climbed back into bed, tugging you into his arms. Your head rested against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a peaceful daze.

“Hungry?” he asked after a moment, his voice rumbling beneath your ear. “I can order us something.”

You chuckled, your fingers idly tracing patterns on his chest. “I think I just want to stay here for a bit.”

“Good,” he said with a soft smile, pulling you closer. “Because I wasn’t planning on letting you go anywhere.”

His hand drifted to your hair, his fingers gently combing through the strands as the two of you fell into a comfortable silence. Wrapped in his warmth, you felt safe, cherished, and completely at ease.

Tag list: @hermionelove @mads3502 @cherryloveshs @harrystyleshotwife @familyshow-orisit @fadingcherryblossomblaze @lunaharrygurl @gem1712 @millsadoresyou @prettydelilah @sassamanda77 @maddiesalvatore1839 @wheredidmyeyesgo @vikiii07

[bitterbutblue]

in the morning, you would be gone ☆ tingyun x reader

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

~ announcement of tingyun 5 star form had me so excited seriously i was liek squealing giggling kicking my feet EVERYTHING ohmy god its so insane im goingso insane rn

song: lovesick - laufey ~

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

"Hey, it's Tingyun! If you're listening to this, I'm probably busy right now. Please leave me a voice message, I'll get back to it as soon as I can, promise! See you later!"

Exhaling shakily, you press the replay button and listen to the voice message again.

"Hey, it's Tingyun! If you're listening to this, I'm probably busy right now. Please leave me a voice message, I'll get back to it as soon as I can, promise! See you later!"

Your worst fear was forgetting what she sounds like. The voice that promised you a life forever together on the altar may be a voice you'll never hear again. The voice that soothed you on nights you needed her most is now just a recording on a phone, playing back the same repeated message. But it is still her voice, it's still her.

You couldn't bear to watch the day they performed the foxian funeral rituals, the idea of losing her to the vast space ahead of you was too much for you to even comprehend. How does one cope with loss? How does one move on from loving someone to the point where you don't even know where you start and where she ends? You can only sit in the corner of your bedroom, taking in pieces of her life and knowing she would never step foot in the room again. Head in your hands, gaping hole in what used to be your chest, and tears that leave a path down your cheek. It was like a statue frozen in time, the state of barely being able to function without every fibre in your being screaming in agony, begging for it to stop. You never realised how the human body was capable of making emotional pain so physical until the moment you found yourself on the ground, Yukong banging on the doors and begging you to let her in.

You spend hours curled on the floor because you can't get in the bed without smelling the scent of her shampoo lingering in the bedsheets. You can't even bring yourself to eat in the kitchen without remembering how she should be standing there with you, arms around your waist and chest pressed against your back. Chin resting on your shoulders as she mumbles sleepily, asking for you to make her favourite for breakfast.

The cards that they dealt you were unfair, there was not much you could truly do about it though. You can really only just nod along, aimlessly going on with your day and learning to live by yourself again after almost 100 years with the same person. 100 years with the same person, and now you have to relearn what it means to be yourself. Each time you hear a small sound inside your house you can't help but momentarily think that she's home, that that was her waking up from her nap or her coming home from work- only for it to be a sound from the neighbours or the cars outside.

But the worst of it all was thinking about what she had to go through or what she may be going through. When Yukong told you there was no body actually found, a part of you was hopeful- perhaps she was alive. Perhaps somewhere she was out there and you could find her again. Another part of you felt sick, because what if she was alive, but still being used? To think about what may have happened to her or what might be happening to her scares to you an extent you can't even comprehend yourself. At the end of each day, you can really only make the same prayer to Lan so that you can feel at peace about the whole situation.

If she's gone, please have her be resting in peace.

When the foxian stepped onto the Luofu, Yukong felt her heart come to a stop. Her face paled, whiter than a sheet of paper and she felt faint. The foxian looks around with a dazed look in her eyes, as if she's completely unfocused on her surroundings. When her eyes met Yukong's a brief flicker of consciousness, as if struggling to fight whatever wave had been drowning her, passes through her eyes until it is replaced by the same dazed look as before. She scans the crowd that only watches in horror as the girl who presumed missing then dead now walks towards Yukong. Dressed like a goddess, nine elegant tails flowing behind her as she mumbles in a dazed voice.

"Do I know you?"

Yukong breaks down in her room that evening.

She doesn't know how to tell you.

She didn't have to. The foxian found herself drawn to this house down the road, this door that she feels the urge to open. Instead, she stands outside, a hand placed on the wooden door, tracing each individual groove as if memorising a complex pattern. Something about this door has her frozen, only able to think about what lays behind the door. Without really thinking about her movements, the foxian knocks on the door, her heart racing for reasons she doesn't understand.

"Yukong, if you want to come in, just open the door. There's no need to-"

A hand flies to your mouth when you notice the green eyes, the brown hair, the sharp fox ears. You feel your vision grow blurry as your breathing grows shallow, stepping back and catching yourself by leaning against the wall. There stood in front of you was your wife who was presumed dead. There stood in front of you was a shadow of your wife because those eyes were so empty and hollow it scared you. You had never seen Tingyun with such soulless eyes. She always had a glint, some sort of flicker of mischief or humour. Now her eyes just stare into yours as if she has no actual consciousness, as if she's just going through the motions of the day again.

"Tingyun?"

It scares you, the way she stares. You want to walk up to her, you want to reach out and cup her cheek and ask her if she's okay and maybe share some of the pain that she's been holding in but you can't. You can only watch as she stays outside the house, not moving in. Her eyes dart around the interior of the house and you notice her nose crinkle slightly as her eyes land on a photo on the wall- a move she does when she's confused and you feel sick to your stomach.

"Baby?"

Your voice sounds too hoarse for your own liking as you step forward shakily. Her eyes slowly land back onto you, hollowly taking in your form and her nose crinkles again.

"Who are you?"

It's only three words. Three words really cannot have that big of an impact on someone, or so you think. Words drive so much of the pain that you can feel- 'I love you' and 'I'm sorry' are both such simple phrases that you hear time and time again but when spoken by a certain person at a certain time it can make you feel like warmth that's been spread inside out or it can make you feel colder than a harsh winter night.

Who are you?

It stings more than an open wound and at this point you would rather have preferred it if they had just found her body and confirmed her dead that evening because to see your lover back as nothing but a shell of herself is horrifying. To see your lover stand in front of you with her sense of self replaced with nothing but the ability to breath and speak breaks you from the inside out more than you would ever realise. She's alive, but she's nothing like who she once was. She's back, but at the same time she never truly would be.

"Why... Why did I come here?"

Her voice wavers slightly, and you take a smaller step closer to her. It's freezing outside, she's wearing nothing but a short dress and you want to pull her into the house so that maybe she can feel some of the warmth and remember at least a fraction of you. But you just stand where you were.

"Do you know me?"

It was a struggle to speak, with words clogging up in your throat and choking you from the inside. Your heart races, unable to stop yourself from trembling as you await her response. She looks at you with her eyebrows furrowed, her chest heaving slightly as if she's trying to calm herself down.

"No."

You release a shuddering breath, closing your eyes as the tears fall. You grip onto the door handle to steady yourself, because you are about to pass out any minute now.

"That's okay." You look back at her finally, after a long minute of silence. The look in her eyes has changed, a hint of sorrow hidden behind the mist of confusion and hazy memories.

"Why does it hurt?"

She sounds so confused, and you can hear the slight twinge of pain in her voice and it hurts you more than you could have ever imagined. Losing someone was hard enough, losing someone who was physically still here but would never fully be back was somehow worse.

"Why does it hurt to... see you upset?"

Your hand moves instinctively, moving to cup her cheek as a tear falls from her eyes, a tear that she hadn't even realised had fallen until she feels your thumb gently wipe it away. She leans into your touch, tilting her head slightly and your heart just crumbles into dust.

"Don't worry too much about it now, baby." You whisper softly, and she blinks. She just stares at you with this look of regret that she doesn't understand why she's feeling.

"I'm sorry."

She apologises for a reason she doesn't know yet, but she knows one thing. Seeing you cry hurt her for a reason she can't understand, and she doesn't want to see you upset either. Perhaps you are upset because of her, and perhaps she never should've come over. She just puts her hand over yours, and she can't understand why your touch feels so familiar when you are nothing but a blank face in her mind. You feel the world fading beneath your feet because you feel the cold metal against your skin, the cold metal band that still sits around her ring finger.

"You've done nothing wrong."

The silence that follows is haunting, watching as Tingyun slowly steps back.

"I'm sorry."

You can only watch as she steps back into the darkness, and you can't even call after her until she fades into the unknown behind you. You wonder if that's truly the last time you'll ever see her and a part of you hates the world for that. Your wife's last words were once 'I love you, I'll see you later', filled with love and care. Now they would be 'I'm sorry', filled with a sense of emptiness and regret, coming from someone who didn't even know your name.

The photo that hangs on the wall next to the door is her and you, hand in hand and both in white- the same metal band on her finger on yours.

Tingyun thinks of that photo every night now and she can't understand why it hurts so much.

[bunnii-143]

kinktober day two

Stalker!Vampire!Hyunjin x Oblivious!Fem!Reader!

Warnings? Blood play, stalking/obsession, prep with abnormal object, cream pie, unprotected sex, kinda forced..? Mild body worship? Spit. Both reader and hyunjin are kinda twisted.

Every day…Every hour… Every minute…he was watching. A predator stalking their prey. Every step…Every breath..he was there. From across the cafe, to right outside the bedroom window..You were his. You didn’t know it. But you were his. 

Look at you…blissfully sleeping, unaware of the impending danger literal feet away from you. Brave, hed say. leaving the window open. You’re basically inviting him in! You are. 

He creeps in through the window, and you watch from your peripheral vision. Your stalker. A tall, pale (dare you say pastey) man. You watch him rummage through your drawers, then through boxes, and finally your dirty clothes hamper. That’s when you finally shoot up. he could hear it, but he could feel you staring. He heard your heart racing. His pearly white teeth curl into a twisted smile as he turns to you, and finally a sight to see. His model perfect face. He’s stunning. A smooth pale face, thin pink lips, jet black hair.. but his eyes..deep red. His teeth..long and pointed. 

He’s no human. 

“Ah..caught red handed.” To say his voice is perfect would be an understatement. It’s deep, rich and smooth. Like fine wine. ‘Dear god. Stop simping over a stalker vampire!’ You quickly scurry around in your bed. 

Reaching to dig in your nightstand and pull out a wooden cross. You’re not religious or anything. Your mom deemed it a ‘necessity’. Thank god. You hold it up to him, like you’re casting the devil away. Well..

“Seriously? That’s pathetic.” He chuckles, taking a few steps closer. 

And you do the only sensible thing. Throw it at him, you’re not sure what you were expecting, maybe for it to melt him? Burn him? Certainly not for him to catch it.. his sly smirk disappearing

“Really, princess?” He says Flatly and sits on the edge of your bed “what were you expecting? This isn’t a fairytale-“ reaching over and wrapping his long, boney hands around your ankles and yanks you over to him and his smirk returns. 

“It’s your worst nightmare..”

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel a sickly amount of wetness pool in your underwear. A twisted part of you feels oh so turned on it should be considered concerning. And he can smell it too. He lifts a leg to rest on his shoulder pressing tender kisses upon your leg, from your knee to your inner thigh..softly nipping at the plush flesh there…his fangs causing a delicious sting that you can’t help but to whine

He groans.”shit princess…you have now clue how long I’ve been awaiting this moment. All soaked and pretty for me..making those beautiful sounds” he murmurs against your panties.. licking a fat stipe up then and he can’t fight back a guttural groan at the taste. 

  It’s almost like the final strands of his sanity snaps and he sits back up, hooking a finger inside the piece of fabric and yanking it down as fast and as hard as he could. Throwing it elsewhere…and when he turns to do such..he’s sees it. The wooden cross. And a beautiful twisted idea crosses his mind. He (being the gentlemen he is) spitting on the smooth polished wood of the cross and thrusts it into you. You clench around the foreign object and whine at the coldness. 

He tuts softly “oh baby, does that bug you?” You nod as he pulls it out only to ram it back in “too bad. I didn’t want you to throw it at me either. Take it like a good girl, and maybe I’ll let you cum on my cock, yeah?” He says, punctuating each word with a harsh thrust of the cross.  The stretch burns, but after a while it feels mind blowing. You moans get louder as your approach your orgasm…he can almost predict it..your whines sound heavenly to him, but as you feel the heat in your stomach again, as you feel you on the brink of your orgasm. 

He stops. He pulls the cross out with the biggest shit-eating grin. Ever. “Oh baby..did you want to cum..?” He asks condescendingly..you nod and pout..he laughs again.. throwing the cross elsewhere before undoing his belt and pull his pants and boxers down to free his angry cock from its restraints, it’d lewd ‘thwack’ is heard from it hitting his stomach.    

Holy fuck- He’s massive. Is it  a vampire thing or genetics..? He smiles slowly pushing his angry red tip In,  the pre cum acting as lube..inch by inch, he watches your face contort in pain..the pleasure..then pain again.. but you both moan as he bottoms out..

“My fuck beautiful, can ya feel me in your stomach.” He asks in a low,  hoarse voice and he pushes on your lower stomach and he slowly drags out only to slam back in. Going at an ungodly pace. His hand slides off your stomach and it goes to hold the sheet right above your head the other pins your wrist down, kissing your neck as he pounds into you. Your moans and cry could make him cum alone. 

“Fuck your so tight and warm..made me for me I just know it.” He growls out before biting down on your neck his fangs piercing your skin, your delicious blood filling his senses. You gasp and cry out…both from pleasure and pain.. your Hands reach to grip his biceps as he indulges in your blood. He slows his thrust down to a pace so you can think.

“My darling you’re divine.” .he moans in a breathy tone, his hand that was once on your wrist moves to press on the bleeding wound and you whine again..he drags his fingers down and across your chest, leaving a trail of blood behind it, only removing his fingers to retrieve the last of the blood from the wound only to push those two fingers into your mouth. Demanding you to suck..which you oblige. As his thrusts pick up again and he removed his fingers from your mouth and pins down your wrist again.. pounding into you fast and hard.

Going back to your chest and drags his tongue across the trail of blood he made previously, as he abuses your sore and achy cunt…he give another breathy whine “fu-fuck princess…I’m gonna cum—“ and as if clockwork you clench around him and tense up, your eyes rolling back and your back arches as you squirt around his cock. He follows shortly after, painting your walls with his seed only to fuck it in further…before he collapses onto top of you..you’re both panting and sweaty.

He only lays for a few moments..before kissing your forehead and getting up, getting his clothes, telling you one more thing 

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll be back soon” he smiles, before leaving out the window he entered…

A/N: I’m so sorry if this is shitty. I’m trying to explore new genres, and my moot helped with a list with more out of my range styles! So here’s one! Anywho! Lemme know who you wanna see next!

[igiulss]

Thoughts about: Officer Rosinante (modern AU)

because I can't keep these thoughts in my mind. I already did some sketches, I'll post them eventually, but for now: THOUGHTS.

I am taking as a reference italian police, since I live there and in theory Dressrosa is a mix of Barcellona (with Parc Guell designs for the entire city) and Rome (For the Colosseo). And because the uniform is not so bad either (I saw some agents calming down a group of not-so-quiet football fans in the subway aaaaand well, the agents looked good. And I thought: "Oh well, how about Rosinante Donquixote being an officer? How would he look with the azure buttoned shirt that the police wears? And with the darker uniform with short sleeves, so we can see his big arms? Good idea").

I can imagine him being that officer that does his job and a lot more, without being an oppressive presence, but also assuring himself that corruption isn't inside his team. He's aware that he can't control the entire police department he collaborates with, so he at least tries with his team. I think he would also want to intervene or investigate as a plainclothes agent, wanting to nurture his sense of justice and just make the world a better place, even if he doesn't need to do it alone.

It would be almost fun to meet him. I bet burocracy is annoying in every country, BUT LET ME TELL YOU: here in Italy our politicians made it a sport to just... make you want to scream at the state employees because when you have to do burocracy things, there's just always something that doesn't go well, or it's missing. And not because of you. And one day you just want to put your hands onto the face of this old person, that just wants you to leave, but you have to stay and do your thing, obtain your permit, change your general pratictioner, anything. And behind you there's this shadow, that you can feel, before noticing it, because of your rage. And when officer Donquixote's big hand pats your arm as a warning to lower your voice, you turn around and his assertive tone makes you shut up. He's not rude, just assertive. He needs you to keep your voice at a lower volume, so you can explain to him what's happening and why you looked like wanting to end the life of the annoying old person in front of you.

After telling him what was wrong, he tells you basically the same things the old employee said, but with a calmer tone, laying down the law to you (while you keep looking at his amber/hazel eyes, nodding and think that you would like him to lay you down, somewhere, anywhere, instead of the law) while he studies your features for a moment and thinks about what to do once he'll finish speaking with you. Asking for your name? Number?

And maybe you just thank him, he jokes a little about the old employee who talked to you, saying that they're one of the worst and you'll have to return at the town hall with the new documentation he explained to you, asking for a certain Viola that will certainly be a bit more kind to you.

And who knows, my thoughts get a bit messy and not so pure from now on. I have this picture in mind about Rosinante being so kind, a bit cold in the beginning, but then he melts and lets you do whatever you want with him. Very helpful. Very pliable.

Until you test his patience. I didn't think yet what would make him snap and do the most powerful uno reverse in bed in human history, but it maybe has to be something about your safety, or something about his job that you don't like, or that makes his life difficult and dangerous.

this is a mess, but anywaaaays, now I can go on with my saturday with my head a bit more lighter, have a good one 🫡

[fantasy-relax]

Sweet Alpha Dangerous Omega

Part 16 Parte 17

Cassandra hasn't moved a muscle since the Alpha ran off, if she didn't know she'd swear she was frozen to the ground.

“Go get Mother” Bela orders and Daniela obeys without a word.

This is her fault; she left the cage door open.

She just wanted to cheer Cassandra up.

And now she ruined everything.

She opens the door to her mother's room, who stands up immediately with fury in her eyes that soon fades when she recognizes her.

“Did you have another nightmare, dear?”

She wished it was just a nightmare, but she knew she was awake, it was too warm to be one.

“It's all my fault mom” She says on the verge of tears.

“Honey, what's hap-”

*Daniela bring Mother! I can't stop Cassandra! *

This is no time to cry “Follow me!”

Her mother gets up from the bed quickly, her gaze worried and full of questions.

—----

She approached her sister cautiously, she had no idea how Cassandra would react when she came out of her stupor, but she knew that her emotions would be out of control and to avoid further damage she had to calm her down.

Bela knew that this day would come, the day when the blindfold on your eyes would be removed and you would face the reality you ignored, Cassandra's punishment protected you from being a witness to her violence, but it was only a matter of time before you discovered the darkest side of her family.

However, she planned to soften the blow, give you examples of different human biologies, diets and food restrictions to help you understand, to comprehend the need they had to consume human flesh and blood, then she would give you more information about the most cruel and inhuman acts that occurred in the castle, as well as their reasons for carrying them out. Little by little, precisely to avoid this type of reaction. No matter how much you loved her sister, this kind of information was hard to digest, so she had kept it hidden as best she could. She had talked to Daniela who agreed to follow her example with only a few complaints, and Cassandra, consciously or unconsciously, had also avoided showing that side.

But now you had found out the hard way.

Bela had faith in you but even they didn't take the news about their new physiology well either. They screamed, cried, and cursed at Mother's feet for months. It took them years to finally accept their new life.

They needed time and space.

And that's what you need too.

Afterall, It was impossible that your devotion would completely fade away in just a few seconds.

You loved her sister, and you would never leave her.

Right?

Moving in front of her sister, Bela bit her lips to control herself.

Cassandra's expression broke her heart, her sister who refused to show the slightest weakness had a faraway look, her hands were shaking, but the worst was the aroma that came from her.

Fear, sadness, anguish.

She took a deep breath to calm down, Cassandra needed her help, she couldn't let her emotions affect her sister's delicate state more.

“Cassand-

The younger girl released a wave of her aroma so strong that it made her stagger, shaking her head to concentrate she tried to call her sister once again.

But in the blink of an eye Cassandra had crossed to the other side of the hallway

.----------

No.

No.

No.

No.

No.

“Cassandra!”

No, no.

“Stop!”

No, no, no.

“Cassandra!”

No, no, no, no.

“Leave her alone!”

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

“Cassandra Andreea Dimitrescu, stop this instant!”

The imposing figure of her mother along with a strong wave of her scent force her to stop her pursuit, her body reforms, but there are still flies buzzing and flying frantically around her. Despite not needing to breathe she feels like she is short of air, she is taking gulps of air that serve no purpose, why? Why did you run away? She would never hurt you, despite her behavior she never threw the easels directly at you, despite her threats she never cut or hit you, so why?

“Why?”

“Because she was never a witness to our feeding Cassandra” Bela is in front of her, her hands do not leave her field of vision “I kept that part hidden in class and outside of it, Daniela too and you did it too”

In all your stay have you never come across their mouths full of blood? In the middle of a hunt or a punishment?

…It’s true.

You spend most of your time working in the workshop, your trips are restricted to your room, kitchen, library and Bela’s office, in addition to trips to the forest which are only focused on collecting animal meat; your cell in the dungeon was one of the most isolated, you did not see the other prisoners. Dorothea does not let anyone who is not from her team into the kitchen when food is being prepared for them, despite the friendship she has with you she would never break that rule, the staff has a different meal schedule because of this.

It is your first time seeing a scene like this, a rather grotesque one to be honest.

“It took us some time to assimilate it and it will take her some time too”

Yes, yes, that’s it.

Time, you just need time.

She can give you time.

Bela extends her arms invitingly and Cassandra has no strength to pretend, letting herself fall into the arms of her older sister who holds her easily even if she is the smallest of the three, the blonde caresses her back gently while purring softly, her scent next to her mother's harmonizes around her but the fear in her chest does not disappear, the image of horror on your face still clear in her mind.

------

Daniela watched you from afar with only one fly from her swarm, Bela had given you a week off from classes to give you space and had ordered her to stay away from you unless you were the one who initiated contact.

Four days and you had not said a word.

It was like the first days you had arrived, but you were the one who locked yourself away from the world, your answers were limited to denying and nodding your head, not even Relia or Dorotthea could pull a sound out of you.

While there were no emotions on your face, your scent gave away what you were hiding.

The fear and worry that radiated from you made her feel cold, which contrasted with the warmth of the days. However, she did not lose hope because under those turbulent emotions she could notice the aroma that she recognized as affection.

This was just another obstacle to overcome so that her sister could obtain her happy ending, the part where love and loyalty are put to the test to give the relationship a boost.

It was only a matter of time.

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

“Haven't I already told you that what you mistakenly take for madness is just an excessive sharpness of the senses? At that moment…”

Normally Cassandra would have rolled her eyes with mocking affection when listening to Daniela read with an exaggerated voice and gestures, but her sister remained still in her arms with her eyes looking through the redhead her mind outside the room.

Bela never thought that one day she would rather deal with the mess that Cassandra's anger attacks caused instead of silence, but here she was, wishing that her sister would scream and destroy the entire room instead of staying still submerged in apathy. Cassandra, like the Alpha, had not said a word since that day, the difference is that instead of avoiding contact, the brunette constantly looked for it, in the hallways she was more discreet, but behind closed doors she did not hold back, lying on top of whoever was nearby.

The weight on her legs increased, coming back to herself she saw Daniela lying on top of Cassandra who simply raised her arms giving her space to accommodate herself, without wasting any time she hugged the middle child torso who surrounded her without responding to the purr that the redhead let out.

Bela sighed resting her head on Cassandra's.

The best option was to be patient and let the alpha process everything without interruptions.

The alpha will come to and beg for her sister's forgiveness.

And Bela, being the exemplary older sister that she is, will give her a good punch.

“So-”

The dining room door opened with a bang that immediately caught everyone's attention.

“What makes you interrupt my time with my daughters? Scoundrel.” Mother was furious, her sisters followed her in irritation, but Cassandra simply turned to look without much interest, since the incident her omega spent the whole day crying and at night nightmares haunted her which drained her energy during the day.

The comfort of her pack was something she was grateful for, without their care she would have most likely let herself die of hunger, the terrified face of her alpha haunting her every time she took a bite.

“Alpha, please.”

Time, they need to give her time.

Who would love someone like you?

Shut up.

You know I'm right, you're not worth it.

Shut up, father.

“The alpha is gone!”

I told you.

How dare she?

A freak like you can never be loved.

To give her hope

You are just a parasite that attracts death.

To make her feel wanted.

You will die alone; Sabina just accept your pathetic fate.

Only to abandon her.

“Cassandra!”

“Fuck this”

Hate her, she doesn’t care.

Curse her, she doesn’t care.

“Alpha is ours”

Even if she must chain you, you will stay.

You are hers forever.

[pakunod-a]

Idia Shroud, who..

...can't fathom how you ever got around to talking to him. He was convinced you were too good for him.

...seems to be a bit more gloomy than usual.

—oh, no, it's not you. He just can't process how such a lovely human being could ever be his friend.

...can't believe it's been so long since you've first DM'ed him. He didn't even have to do anything at all.

...has a hard time believing you wouldn't up and find someone else to befriend. You're.. probably his first genuine friend. Why wouldn't you want to stay good friends with him?

...is your closest online friend. You've met a little short over a year ago, and now he's a little too attached.

...is one of your closest confidants. Despite not being friends with you in person, you trust him with major things, like your game accounts, your Magicord account, your IP address <3

...is your duo on most games. You support him, and oftentimes, he lets you carry.

...doesn't trust you when you say that your "friends" are only with you to hang out. They must have ulterior motives, no?

...is very, very fortunate he installed an app that lets him see through your webcam. You were so ethereal, it was unbelievable.

...thinks you look like a masterpiece crafted by the very hands of a god themselves. This is who he's been talking to all this time? He's breath-taken.

...starts slowly getting insecure every time you try and turn down his offers to game together. His mind starts going to the worst possible places imaginable.

...can't have you getting any ideas of leaving him. You're basically his best friend, dare I say his platonic? lover. You put your Minecraft beds together. You went to the Heart Island on Genshin Impact with him. He does all your dailies for you whenever you aren't available, and vice versa. You're practically married at this point.

...is waiting for the right time to strike. Not now, but soon. You shouldn't suspect it. If he fails, he risks losing his beloved friend.

...monitors you closely. It's just a matter of time, you know. After all, you're playing hard to get. And Idia does love a good challenge.

...watches your every move. You like to sing in the shower, don't you? You sound so talented.. undeserving of someone like him. You enjoy the company of cats? How coincidental.. he does too. You have so much in common already.

...has your room set up next to his. You'll live with him, eventually. When he finds the courage to do it.

Idia Shroud, who will forever be your Player 1. Won't you be his Player 2, too?

long note below here, skip if not interested

A/N: hello :)

it's been a while, how have you all been?

i apologize for being on a hiatus of some sort. and for the rushed and short idia post T-T

it's going to be the start of a busy year for me, i am graduating after all.

i have lots of posts i need to publish and rewrite, but unfortunately my schedule is too packed, and the only times i feel free enough to write are after-school hours, which are 8 pm - 12 am for me.

i might just end up reuploading more fics from my old blog, or writing a bit more for other series i'm into. (hxh, obey me, twst, mlbb, genshin, and hsr <3 perhaps trese if anyone's heard about it? 👀)

but if i ever come back to posting, what kind of content would you guys like to see?

my requests and inbox(?) are always open. please do drop by and say hello, or drop a request you would like to see written by me. i find that requests or ideas from others often get my brian going.

if you wish to find me elsewhere, my tiktok and my discord users are both pakunod.a :)

i would like to come back again with posts for you to read, or a few of my practice drawings for you to see.

perhaps in the future. :)

as always, stay safe, keep yourself healthy, stay hydrated, and always love yourself. <3

- 1, Yuan

[tiramisuucakeee]

1. STORMY NIGHT

( sea salt, yang jungwon )

in the heart of the shimmering coral city of aqualis, where the sea sings with ancient magic and the ocean’s rhythm is the pulse of life, the kingdom’s peaceful existence is on the verge of change.

the waters, always whispering secrets, have carried truths far beyond the reach of even the crown. secrets that threaten to shatter the peaceful facade of the royal family.

days after your birthday, you were set to marry. and the thought of that made you seasick, not in a good way.

you. marry. seahorse. how absurd. a cruel joke on the royal treatment of your hand. a kingdom's tradition, your duty, and yet it feels more like a punishment than a celebration.

“i shall not do this,” you muttered to yourself, the words firm and resolute as you studied your reflection in the pearly hand mirror. the soft glow of the ocean filtered through your window, casting faint light on your face, but it hardly mattered - the decision had been made.

your room was in disarray, much like the storm inside you. the chaos felt fitting, though. how could you not feel like this, after overhearing your father, so thrilled over his seashell, gushing about how ecstatic he was that you'd finally take on your royal duty? you could practically still hear him now, his voice full of pride as he spoke of your impending marriage to the princess of the nearby seahorse kingdom.

who was visiting tonight.

luckily for you and your ring finger, you were set off to leave tonight. a spontaneous decision you thought about a few seconds ago. you wouldn’t be caged into a life you didn’t want - not tonight. not ever. your fingers itched to grasp the smooth edges of the mirror, but you set it down, your gaze shifting around the room.

it was a reflection of your life, in more ways than one. decorated with human artifacts you'd collected from the ocean floor, each piece a symbol of the world above. a giant shell in the corner, your favorite reading nook. and how could you forget the starfish, always there, scattered like gems across your room.

starfish is a girl’s best friend. that’s what the merfolk say.

you swam over to your friends, seeing them jump around in glee, much happier than you could be at the moment. “my sincerest apologies, everyone,” you spoke softly, feeling a pang in your heart as you hovered in front of them. “i only have room for two,” you picked the starfish you used as a kid, the most trustworthy.

there is a single more thing you need to do before departing. that is, leaving your whole self behind.

you know not of how humans would react to a mermaid, much less a mermaid princess. so you would have to renounce your title. not just that.

and now, as your hands reached for the crown, you felt the weight of it pressing down on your soul.

“mom, i cannot do something like this…” you whispered, your voice barely audible as the dread settled in your chest like a stone. the words tasted bitter in your mouth, the confession that you couldn’t live the life she’d wanted for you. the life you'd been born into but never chose.

she always had this dream. a beautiful dream where you would become queen after your parents gave up their throne. and in this exact second, you feel as if you’re betraying her.

she was the dearest person you’ve ever met. who was finished by the worst of all destinies possible. now the only place where you could see her was in your sleep.

“i hope you really forgot about me, now that you’re in the afterlife, mother, i cannot bare the idea of you being disappointed at my actions,” you let out a choked sob, and tore the crown off, quickly throwing it on your bed.

the ocean around you felt colder now, the walls of your room suddenly suffocating.

without a second thought, you swam to the open window, the cool rush of water filling your senses as you pushed through, leaving the room and the memories behind. You had to leave. you couldn’t stay, not in this place, not in this life that was no longer yours. the crown, the legacy, your mother’s dreams, they were all behind you now.

as you glided through the currents, your heart pounded in your chest - each stroke of your tail carrying you farther from the life you’d known.

you didn’t look back.

the palace gleamed in the distance, its spires like the sharp edges of a dream that had grown too heavy to hold. below it, the mermaid village - your village - sat nestled in the coral reefs, the vibrant colors of the homes and the swarms of merfolk playing and chatting in the shallows, making your chest ache.

you had spent so many days there, lost in the carefree joy of it all - swimming through the kelp forests, chasing the shimmering fish, laughing with your friends. now, it felt like a distant memory.

suddenly, a crack of thunder echoed through the water, so loud it shook the ocean floor. you froze, the sound sending ripples through your body. your heart skipped, a familiar dread filling the pit of your stomach. you turned slowly, your eyes scanning the surface.

and then you heard it—a voice, desperate and raw, carried by the wind and the water.

“come back!”

your father. the king.

his voice, though muffled by the distance and the waves, was unmistakable. but it was more than just his voice - it was the power behind it, the deep, booming command that shook the very sea around you.

you watched in horror as the water above you began to churn. a storm was forming, fierce and wild, the clouds darkening and swirling, casting shadows over the kingdom. the ocean’s surface cracked with lightning, and the waves rose high, most likely about to destroy beaches. it was like a tempest had come to life, born from his fury.

your heart raced as the storm raged on. the ocean was no longer a friend - it was a battlefield, and your father was waging war to bring you home.

as hard as you could, you tried to escape quicker, getting closer to the surface of the ocean, your stomach turning with emotion.

you just had to make it, if you didn’t, you would be a criminal in your own scales.

and then just as you were about to reach for the clouds and the sky, everything went dark. the familiar shimmer of the sea vanished, replaced by an overwhelming blackness, like the ocean itself had swallowed you whole.

!

“no, no, no, no, hold that!” an old man screamed to the teenager, who rushed to get the rope of the boat before it could escape into the depths of the sea.

jungwon held the rope tightly, running it around a hook on the deck, his grandfather doing the same.

it was really weird, in the middle of summer, a sudden storm.

the sky had gone from a clear, radiant blue to a deep, foreboding gray in just a matter of minutes. the waves were churning, their once peaceful motion now erratic and furious, slamming against the shore like they were angry. jungwon could feel the wind biting at his skin, whipping his hair into his face as he secured the last of the ropes around the boat. his grandfather, an old but weathered man, barked instructions at him, his voice strained against the roar of the approaching storm.

"get the tarp over the pool!" his grandfather shouted over the howl of the wind. "we need to cover the yard too, if it floods, it will tear everything apart!"

jungwon nodded, his heart racing. he knew the place like the back of his hand - this beach house had been in the family for generations, a sanctuary where summers stretched out forever, a retreat from everything else. but this year was different.

"grandpa, the house!" jungwon shouted, looking toward the house. it was built up on the nearby coast, in between sand and the rest of the town.

"check the windows! seal the doors! we need to prepare for a possible flood!" his grandfather yelled back as he worked to secure the last of the ropes. "get the boards from the shed!"

jungwon dashed to the shed, feeling the heavy drops of rain in his face, and pulled out the wooden planks. the sound of the wind was deafening now, rattling the metal frames of the windows. he worked quickly, securing the boards across the house’s lower windows, making sure nothing would let in the rising water.

"this summer, i thought i was just gonna relax here before college," jungwon muttered under his breath, grunting as he tightened the last screw on a window board.

he could hear his grandfather's deep chuckle. "you thought wrong, boy. this summer’s a reminder, never underestimate the ocean, dunno what we did to anger the gods but this is one hell of a storm."

jungwon looked back out toward the sea, where the waves were getting more violent by the second. he could feel the pull of it, he'd spent most of his life here, learning the rhythms of the water, the patterns of the tides, the way the air felt just before a storm. but this storm was different. it was powerful, angry.

what if there were gods of the ocean like his grandfather said. he came back with stories as a kid, after hanging out with sailors too much, and passed them down to jungwon’s father, who told them to him.

but surely there can’t be such being powerful enough to control the ocean.

"everything’s secure?" his grandfather called him out of the daydream, standing by the front door, looking out at the roiling surf.

"yeah, i think so," jungwon replied, breathless. "but we better stay inside soon. the water’s gonna rise fast."

the wind howled, rattling the doors and windows as the storm hit full force. they'd done all they could, but now it was a waiting game. jungwon stood at the edge of the porch, watching the ocean, feeling the storm inside his bones, wondering if the beach house would survive. this summer, before heading off to college, he had come here for one last stretch of peace, one last break from the world. but it seemed the world had other plans.

jungwon soon stepped inside, the wind slamming the door shut behind him. the house groaned under the pressure of the storm, the wooden beams creaking. his grandfather was already heading toward the kitchen, where the light flickered once and then went out, plunging them into darkness.

"power’s gone," his grandfather muttered, feeling around for a flashlight. "we'll have to ride this out."

jungwon nodded, though the sense of urgency in the air made his heart beat faster. he could hear the storm raging outside.

"you should try to get some rest," his grandfather said, pointing toward the staircase. "you've been running around all day with that friend of yours. no sense in staying up."

jungwon didn’t argue. he knew the old man was right. he had been all day at the beach with jay, failing miserably the lifeguard physical test. he was exhausted, his limbs heavy. but his mind was still buzzing, he nodded, tiredly making his way upstairs.

his room was tucked at the back of the house, overlooking the beach. it was a place that always felt like home, more than the one back in the city - coastal, light colors, and a view of the endless ocean that stretched out beyond the porch. the walls were painted in shades of soft sand and pale blue, the bed framed with white curtains that swayed slightly even when there was no breeze.

tonight, the room felt different. the cold from the storm seeped through the walls, and as he pulled the covers up, he shivered. the sea had always brought a sense of calm before, but now, it felt ominous. he could hear the wind howling outside, rattling the windows. even though the room was warm enough, the cold seemed to be deep inside him, gnawing at his bones.

jungwon pulled the blanket tighter, trying to block out the sound of the storm. he closed his eyes, but the ocean’s constant roar in the distance seemed louder than ever, mixing with the sharp gusts of wind that whistled through the cracks in the house. he felt a deep unease settling in his stomach, something more than just fear of the storm. something he couldn't quite place.

the darkness felt colder than it ever had before. he turned over and glanced out the window, watching the turbulent waves crash against the shore, the water swallowing the beach. it was wild.

but all he could think about was, the disaster that he would have to clean up tomorrow.

EXTRA:

masterlist.

next chapter.

all chapters.

[rauferes]

🌻WIP-DAY | PITCH-DAY 🌻

Thanks for the tag @aldisobey! I just finished out a couple oneshot ideas, so right now I'm deciding on which of my growing list of ideas I wanna tackle next.

...they're all smut. You know. As usual.

If anyone thinks this looks like fun, consider yourself tagged! You're it!

my twist on the "Emmrich is mid at sex" corner of the fandom: Emmrich has, up until Rook, had perfectly average experiences. Everyone had a good time, nothing mind blowing. Rook completely wrecks him in the best way--and Emmrich proves to be a quick study with someone giving him good directions :}

Emmrich is being the WORST tease and Rook tells him, FINE. But the next time you come, it'll be with me, got it? ...and Emmrich is SO into it.

Rook is a late bloomer in their mid-to-late 30s and goes to Emmrich to find out what decent sex is actually like, figuring that a) he knows what he's doing b) he's kind and c) he wouldn't laugh at them. Emmrich ends up in "what sort of gentleman would I be if you didn't have the best orgasm of your entire life" and it escalates (and also Emmrich really, really overestimates his ability to resist temptation. Oops.) Friends bein friends, don't worry about it,

Modern AU: first time Emmrich "Extremely Responsible" Volkarin fucks someone without a condom

...ok so the whole "Solas stumbles across Emmrich and Rook fuckin in the fade" oneshot was actually originally an idea about Lucanis being there and it still won't leave me alone. Do you have any idea how thoroughly Rook and Emmrich could wreck him. I kept them open for you, Emmrich murmurs in Lucanis's ear while Lucanis slides into Rook, and Emmrich grinds on his ass. By the power of the Fade many things are possible. Refractory periods who. Poor Lucanis is going to be popping random boners for a FORTNIGHT

Also. My bestie made my Rook from Healer's Touch/Butterflies and Softened Eyes and we played some Veilguard with her and uh. Wow she had a really compatible fighting style with Lucanis, they kept setting each other up for the final strike and moving in tandem (also it was on Easy Mode so Rook was just INSANELY good at combat) and we joked he got the WORST crush on her (she's very very cute) so uh. Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Vaginismus!Rook x Lucanis maybe. I mean. Just look at her. Who can resist her adorable little face. Not me or my friend or Emmrich or Lucanis or Bellara, that's for sure.

I've been continuing to write Isolde's story (~100k Emmrich romance that begins with There Was Only One Bed with a massive helping of Touch Starvation). Every time I try to find a little section to share, I keep going NO I WANT TO SHOW LIKE THREE WHOLE PAGES I LOVE THEM SO MUCH so. Excessively long, NSFW preview under the cut-- from the first time they have sex.

Emmrich doesn’t rush to mount her. He continues stroking her skin—and not just her breasts or her hips, all of her. Tentative, she does the same, petting his chest hair. Isolde feels so naked, next to him. She’s seen human women, and their sensual dark thick thatches of hair, and wonders if she looks too unfinished, too thin, too—

Emmrich presses a kiss to the hollow of Isolde's throat, an arm snaking under her and looping around her waist. His cock twitches against her hip, and her lips part.

Oh.

He holds her close. One hand wanders between her legs. Cyric had done that, too, stroking a bit before plunging his fingers into her, without much by way of rhythm. She hadn’t enjoyed that much.

Her hips jerk away, surprised, as Emmrich touches a place that feels far too intense.

"Oh! Even softer?" Emmrich asks her, as she blinks at him without comprehension. "My delicate Isolde…"

"I’m not delicate—" Isolde begins, and then he touches her again, more gently this time, and her breath leaves her in a rush.

Emmrich works her over slowly, and the feeling only gets better as he goes. Her hips start twitching against his hand. When he slips two fingers inside her, Isolde’s back arches off the bed.

Emmrich lets out a little laugh.

"Oh, so you are enjoying yourself," Emmrich says, teasing. "You’re so quiet, I wasn’t sure…"

A moment of confusion from her: Quiet? What sound could he possibly expect that she--

"There’s never much privacy in the Veil Jumper camps," Isolde says. "And before that—"

She doesn’t want to talk about being homeless, not now—

"…was even worse."

"I see," Emmrich says, as if he’s understood something far deeper than the inane thing she’d said. Isolde doesn’t have the space to process that, because he shifts the angle of his fingers and suddenly the feeling passes from good to incredible. Her breath comes in fits and starts, uneven.

"Breathe, darling," Emmrich tells her, one hand gentle on her belly.

Isolde takes a gulping breath. It’s undone when he moves again, and she’s arching harder against him. One hand is fisted on the sheets, one hand clutching at him.

Her body is tensing. Despite how incredible it feels, she wants more. Her body moves without her say so, rocking against his hand. A jittery feeling buzzes under her skin, and she feels dangerously close to losing control of herself.

Isolde pulls his wrist, urging him to stop. Emmrich does, with a small, puzzled frown.

She seizes his cock and sheaths herself on him. Not too big after all-- the stretch of his thick cock makes her toes curl, and the heat of his human body inside her is shocking.

Emmrich lets out a deep groan, his eyes fluttering shut. He presses further in, gently, and Isolde lets a little huff of air out at how full she feels.

Emmrich surprises her here, too, by departing from the script. He rocks against her leisurely, slowly. With a soft sigh, he drops his forehead against hers.

He doesn’t roll to be on top of her, either, just continues cuddling her close. Their bodies entwined, touching everywhere…

The unhurried pace gives her the time to feel everything. Her legs and arms tighten around him. She realizes she’s lost control of her hands, digging hard into his back; she releases them with difficulty. He’s so warm that he almost feels feverish.

His eyes open slowly. Dark and soft—Isolde loses herself in them.

"Isolde," Emmrich whispers. "Oh, darling…"

Isolde can feel the connection running between them and she—she didn’t know. She didn’t know it could be like this.

[hellosweetart]

Oh! Regarding that one scenario you came up with for the serial killer Francis being Francis' reaction to Nacha's killing, I have an idea on a continuation to that ending:

After hiding the corpse into her car trunk, Nacha, now overwhelmed with guilt and fear, called Francis and confessed everything to him. Francis, even if he just got home from a shift and it was quite late outside, would waste no time coming over with some tools too.

Francis would then do what he does best: manipulate the crime scene so that the murder looked like a doppelganger's work and changed to a clean outfit with no blood. He then proceed to dispose of his bloody uniforms and his weapon, and then took Nacha back into the car, and drove both of them back home.

For anyone else witnessing what Francis had done, they would definitely feel that Francis was a... questionable figure, like why did it feel like disposing body and framing doppelganger for murder were old news to Francis, and why did he look so... unfazed during his work? Normally, Nacha would also have noticed all this and feel alarmed, but with her mental distress, all she could felt and think of were guilt and fear and even gratitude for Francis as he covered for her.

But there was one more person aside from Nacha and Francis who knew about the disastrous night (minus the dead guy): Ana. Ana was staying way pass her bed time reading whatever she liked when she heard the door open. She swiftly turned off the only source of light in the room being the the dim lamp on the bedside table and pretend to be asleep (Since her door was closed, no matter how quick was Francis, he would not have caught the light being switched off). However, upon hearing sobs from her mother, Ana decided to sneak as close as possible to the door.

On Francis and Nacha's side, the milkman decided to sit Nacha down onto the couch to comfort her. Ana, still hiding behind the door, knew all about what happened after her mother's shift. At first, Ana sympathized with her mom and felt the bastard somewhat deserved his fate for his harrasment and gross comment regarding a child. But then, while still sobbing and emotionally uncomposed, Nacha asked:

"W-what if the police saw through the crime scene and knew it all? What if they know I was the murderer?"

To which Francis just replied with a small laugh:

"Don't worry, dear. They'll never know. The corpse was torn to shreds with some parts missing. It looked too much like a doppelganger's work. I think my work is flawless in this one. We even got rid of all the evidence!"

Nacha was still too out of it to realize how wrong some of the thing Francis said, but Ana did. She questioned: why did he sound rather... proud of his work, and not shaken at all? Why did he sound like that was not his first time?

At that time, the authorities just decided to blame the murder onto the doppels to avoid any other unneccessary work for them. However, there was still a popular conspiracy theory going around that there was a human murderer among those kills. While Ana was not one to subscribe to these theory, and sometimes she even saw them as ridiculous statements, after hearing her father words, she feared for the worst.

Ana returned to bed way too late at night when her mother's sobbing ceased, but she was unable to sleep.

On another note, even if Nacha was composed enough to see that Francis looked like a professional in the disposing corpse field and decided to confront him about that, he already knew her to-be biggest secret that she would take to her grave: she killed a man. This means that he can use this information to his advantage and blackmail her as he please and may even have her help him in his future murders as an accomplice. Nacha would have no choice but to agree to his terms, as if she hadn't, high chances thay she would have gone to jail, meaning that Francis would be in charge of Ana, leaving Nacha worried to no end.

(oops this got too long)

This is what I would have imagined

I love it when anon send me this type of asks. I love reading long ones lol

[wigglyobsessedweirdo]

Hey guys! I have a cool idea for my precious girl Willow in the future, where she is in a very bad low and gets possessed by Wiggly! (Dw it's not a malicious thing) And I wrote a LONG oneshot for it so I hope you enjoy :D it's not proof-read so apologies for any errors!

POSSESSION

TW: SH, Thoughts of suicide, neglect, thoughts of overdose.

Dakota belongs to @sorrowmoons Aspen Waylon-Cross belongs to @sundewhasaudhd Elle jagerman belongs to @biscuits-spooky-diner

"I'm so tired."

Willow sat on the ground, on her knees having been sobbing for hours and hours. She just wanted it all to stop, all this pain all the trauma, she could take it for much longer with the way she was going. She looked over at the bloody razor and put it away not even able to look at it without being ashamed and disgusted by herself.

She tried to make her way back to the bed, but her legs gave out halfway through. She felt too dizzy to stand and her body too weak to do....well anything. She hadn't eaten in days though it was a rare occurrence for her parents to give her any actual food, she had been neglecting herself not even accepting the spare food Aspen was offering. She felt hopeless, like there was nothing to live for.

She laid on the ground feeling the worst she's ever felt in her short 16 years of life, she sobbed and she sobbed wallowing in her own self pity. "You can't even stand up, you're pathetic." She thought to herself, she didn't want to be here anymore. She tried thinking of her very few friends and him. She hoped that having them would be enough to stop her from thinking these awful scenarios or worse actually doing them.

She thought about Dakota, her best friend, the one person who could make her stomach ache from laughing and the one who made life just a bit brighter. She mustered a hint of a smile through her tears, though it wasn't enough she started imagining horrible scenarios where she didn't care about her anymore, and wanted to see her drop dead. She sobbed even more those thoughts were too unbearable to even think about and too real for her to think about. She spiralled even more picturing Aspen and Elle doing the exact same, it hurt too much to handle.

She looked over to the bedroom through her open door, the silence in the house was too heavy. Her parents were away, she could do it without distractions... She saw the pill bottle almost staring back at her, beckoning her over to it. She started to slowly crawl over to the bathroom with a clear goal in mind. The last of her energy fled her though and she could barely move. She lost it.

She screamed, sobbed and hit the floor. She couldn't do anything right in her eyes, she couldn't even crawl to her death. She was nothing, especially without him. She thought about Wiggly and it made her break down even more. 'What would he think about this? He could be so disappointed... what would he say? "You disgust me." What would he do? Leave you all alone.' Those horrible thoughts crossed her mind and she was even more determined to reach the bottle, after almost manipulating herself that those horrible thoughts would come true.

In the black, Wiggly could hear her sobs and screams he instantly grew worried and grew a pit in his stomach. He rushed to her room, he appeared in his human form as usual when he would go visit Willow. As soon as he saw his girl on the ground, a sobbing and broken mess he felt his heart shatter into a million pieces. "Oh my star..."

He tried to help her up but was met with no movement from the inconsolable girl. Willows mind was still in a frenzy, her senses were slow and she didn't realize someone was there till she looked up. Her eyes widened as tears flew down from her already puffy eyes, she called out in a hoarse voice from all the screaming.

"Dad?"

He tried to hold back tears, he was usual to human usually breaking down and felt no emotion usually but when it's a girl you've come to view as your own daughter it's hard to not feel something. "Yes I'm here, honey" He bent down to her level, as he held her closer to him and he ran his fingers through her hair. He knew her comforts well enough and he knew that this helped her, but apparently it wasn't enough...

"I can't do this anymore! Please help me" Willow sobbed out, she felt hopeless. Like nothing she did could ever fix what had been left of her, her life was ruined she thought. She continued sobbing for another minute letting herself be held, until an idea came into her hazy head.

She mustered all her strength to raise her head to Wiggly, she grabbed onto his arms trying to ground herself. "Dad i-i know how you can h-help me..." Willow looked up at him with desperate and pleading tear filled eyes. She knew that it was unlikely but everything has become too much for her to handle so maybe she could let someone else take control.

Wiggly looked down at her confused, but willing to hear as he wanted to do everything he could to help his star. "Of course Willow what is it?"

She looked at him dead in the eye as she said bluntly with the most desperate and broken tone that he has ever heard in his ageless existence. "I need you to possess me."

He became more perplexed and concerned, he absolutely did not want to do that to the girl he treasured. "Willow- I don't think you understand."

"What don't I understand?! I am so tired I don't want to be alive anymore!" She paused as more tears fell down her face before continuing again. "I have been through too much, I feel too much I want to be numb! Just please take control just for a while, I need a break." She confesses, she was growing more frantic and more desperate by the minute.

His eyes widened at her confession, has she been suffering like this everyday and he didn't know? The unfamiliar gnawing feeling of guilt built up inside him that he wasn't used to. "My star i can't-" Before he can finish he's met with more sobbing and wailing.

"No!" She wails she can't accept anymore "no's" she needed to be numb to not feel anything, she panicked and sobbed out. "It's either you possess me or I'll die" She sobbed, the tears staining his cardigan. It was a harsh truth that she was only now coming to terms with now and she was ready to accept either fate.

Wiggly's eyes filled with tears as her words sunk in his heart shattered again, her words filling him with a sense of panic as he considered her words. He really didn't want to possess her, but he couldn't bear the thought of losing her she was the only thing he found himself capable of loving, other than his brothers of course. "I-" He struggled to speak for a moment before continuing in a solemn tone. "If that is what you wish my star, I will...."

Her dull, glassy eyes brightened the tiniest bit at his words as she muttered hoarsely. "Thank you dad....i- thank you..."

He helped her up so he could begin "Don't thank me, id rather it than seeing you dead." He said bluntly still not happy he has to do this. He sat her on the bed "Just close your eyes, my comet and count from 5 okay?" He said gently as he held onto both of her arms, trying to keep her upright.

She nodded as she closed her eyes, she soons felt a change. Something was different, she felt different. When she- well Wiggly opened her eyes, she felt like she was watching a movie it was like seeing her life through a screen while not being in control.

Wiggly stood up from the bed, it had been a while since he had to possess someone. He still had to get use to the feeling of being in a different body, especially a girl's body. He walked over to her shattered mirror, trying to catch a glimpse if there was any changes. He noticed that Willows now full green eyes were practically glowing now. He then felt a blast of hunger, nausea, weakness and worse of all a stinging feeling from her arms. "Oh kiddo what did you do to yourself..." He muttered in Willow's voice, oh yeah he has to get used to not having his own voice for a while.

"I'll have to get you fixed up kid." He said mostly to himself, it did pain him immensely to see her body like this and it hurt even more that he could feel what Willow had been feeling for a long time. "How you feeling back there?" He said to Willow in the back of her own mind. She responded simply, her voice a little less hoarse and sounded almost at peace.

"I feel fine."

[dearestdo3]

I saw your pregnant!Voldemort art, and I had this idea: (It may or may not be omegaverse) Voldemort and Harry are together, and he knows that Harry always wanted to have a family. So he does everything he can to get pregnant, but it's hard to conceive and when he does he has many miscarriages. Voldemort insists on keeping trying, but Harry doesn't want to see any more miscarriages. Voldemort thinks that Harry will leave him for not being able to have children. He knows that it's his fault that his body is not fit for pregnancy. He asks for one last try, and Harry accepts. He manages to get pregnant, during the gestation Voldemort makes a deal with Death, he agrees to lose all his magic in exchange for Death not taking his baby. The pregnancy is difficult and complicated, and ends in a long and painful birth. Death didn't say he wouldn't take Voldemort with him. Voldemort survives because he uses (unconsciously) the magic of love (he loves Harry and the baby). A girl is born and has magic. Voldemort loses his magic. The girl is named Eliana (means God has answered). Sorry if this is too much distressing, I just wanted to share this idea. ;w;

anon thank you so much for feeding me you absolutely have no clue how much i love angst in general!! whump and pregnant tom/voldemort is something ive desperately wanted for so long as well so im eating a buffet w ur ask 😭💕

link to post for self promo 😘

more rambles under cut!

ive always loved v's determination, so despite the miscarriages and the emotional + physical toll it takes on him, he def would still trudge forward bc he has a goal and he will tunnelvision until he gets what he wants. I'm thinking this would be omegaverse and v got hit with the worst baby fever he ever experienced in his life. It just so happened that he could feel how harry years for a family he can call his own so he'd start plotting in his head and execute it entirely on his own.

harry as you said of course hated seeing him doing that to himself and felt guilty over his wish that drove v like this, but one last time they tried for a baby (per harry's insistence that it will be the LAST time ever) and it actually worked <3

omega!v would be a force to be reckoned with definitely, w how protective pregnant omegas are in general. he's already a lot normally, but pregnant v? he will do everything to make sure the child survives if it means sacrificing lives

v losing his magic would be a very extreme situation though i feel like, since hes always been very very dependent on his magic and its something absolutely precious to him. but if there's no way else than to lose his magic in exchange for a life that is a part of his own, he'd take a looooong while to think about it first (even if harry promised he will protect v and the child)

and eliana is such a cute name!! 💚

deviating from your ask though, I'm more of a believer that if they were to concieve, harry and v would accidentally create a child and v is too proud to admit it wasn't part of his big master plan to keep harry with him lmao

Harry in my head would've had a horrific time trying to process everything and is so flabbergasted at how casual v is with this sudden revelation. Of course due to age, v's gaunt genetics, non-human body, the pregnancy is really hard on him that he can barely even do the simplest magic the more the baby grows. it kills him inside that he has to rely on harry/DEs for a lot of things, made him feel like he's weak and fragile and his ego can't handle it, so his mood worsened and he's far more intimidating/mean to harry/his followers than usual.

when the baby's born he will also be protective, rarely ever leaving the bed much less the bedroom. nobody but him and harry can meet the child, and this protective mood prevails until she can actually start walking on her own (like baby snakes leaving the nest after they hatch) 😊😊 harry is still finding his footing with this new weird family that v gave him but eventually he will grow into a dadgirl who does everything he can to influence his princess to sort into gryffindor and play quidditch like him lol

[canirove]

Rice, Rice, baby | Chapter 12

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Masterlist

“Oh, Alex, hey” I say after bumping into him. “I wasn't expecting to see you at work today. Don't you have the other shift anymore?”

“I do, yeah. But they asked me if I could cover for you while you were sick, and now the whole schedule is a mess.”

Oh, yes. Because I've been sick with the most horrible cold known to human history mixed with the worst stomach bug ever. My mother constantly told me that I was just overreacting, but I felt so poorly I thought they would have to take me to the hospital and that that would be the end. That I would leave this world without trying the rice. Because that hasn't happened either.

When we moved from St. George's to Tottenham training centre, Declan didn't come with us. The doctors checked his hamstring again and decided it was best if he went back home to rest since he would not be fit enough to play the next game, which meant that we didn't see each other again.

Then while he was out for the next couple of games with Arsenal, and like happened last time he was injured, he basically ignored me. Kennedy told me that it probably was because he loves football so much that when he can't play, he doesn't feel like the best company and just wants to be on his own, that James had done it too. But that annoying voice inside my head kept telling me that I had done something and he was ignoring me on purpose. 

After that I got sick, was in bed for like two weeks, and now here we are. It's been a month since the last time I saw Declan, and the most we've done has been send each other a couple of texts asking how we are and if we've recovered.

“Then are we working together again?” I ask Alex.

“Until they fix things, it looks like it, yes” he sighs. Great. He still hates me.

“Liv, this just arrived for you” one of our coworkers says. 

“Oh, thank you” I say, taking the small bouquet of red roses she was carrying. 

“Sorry for being so mia, I will make it up to you. Are you free Saturday night? DR” Alex says. 

“What…” Oh, shit. He's reading the card that came with the flowers. “That's personal!” I say, snatching it from his hands. 

“It fell from the bouquet and when I picked it up I couldn't help but read it” he shrugs. 

“Yes, of course. You couldn't help it” I reply, rolling my eyes.

“Is DR who I think it is or are you dating Daniel Ricciardo now?” he chuckles.

“What?”

“Liv, are you still seeing Rice despite basically everyone telling you it is a mistake?”

“We are just friends, Alex.”

“Now friends send each other red roses?” he laughs.

“Whatever.”

“He's a football player, Liv. He is bound to break your heart.”

“You don't know him.”

“And you do? C'mon. The moment he meets another girl he finds hot he will move on and forget about you. Or the moment he manages to get between your legs. Has he done it already?” 

“Fuck you, Alex” I say, slapping his face as hard as I can and walking away, taking deep breaths to stop me from crying. Stupid twat.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

Are you free Saturday night? That's what Declan's note said. And what did I think it meant? That we were going out for dinner or something like that, that we were going to have that date. But he had other plans, because he was playing on Saturday night.

“I want you to come to my game against Newcastle” he says over facetime.

“I don't think that's a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“I don't support Arsenal.”

“But you do support me, don't you?”

“Yeah, I guess” I shrug.

“Then come watch me play, Liv. If I score I will dedicate you the goal, I promise.”

“And do what, a L with your fingers or something?” I laugh. 

“For example.”

And now here I am, at the Emirates, a stupid smile on my face while I clap with everyone else as the players thank the fans for their support. Because they've won, and they've done it thanks to Declan's goal.

The game was the worst. Newcastle spent the 90 minutes provoking the Arsenal players, the referee only showing them yellow cards when they were the ones getting fouled. And when it looked like it would be ending with no goals, that Arsenal would be dropping points and leaving Manchester City alone on the top, the ball got to Declan and he shot.

I'm pretty sure the whole stadium held their breaths (me included) as the ball left his foot, all eyes on it as it moved past all the Newcastle players, the goalkeeper not managing to stop it. And when it hit the back of the net, we all screamed at the same time. The fans, the players, Arteta and his team. Everyone. 

He had done it. Declan had scored and won the game. And did he remember about the celebration? He did. He searched for me in the stands and did a L over his chest. Over his heart. Cheesy? Very. But I loved it.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Ok, so you stay here and get changed, and I'll be back once everything is ready.”

“Aren't you going to tell me what have you planned?”

“Nope” Declan smiles, kissing my nose and leaving me alone in his garage.

After a little make out session in his car once the game was over to show him how proud of him I was, we made it to his house, where he had planned something special. Something that he wasn't telling me about, and that for some reason involved me wearing the same clothes I had worn during our last night in Paris, having to get change in his garage because I couldn't see just yet what was inside the house. 

“It'll be worth it, you'll see” he had told me. 

And it better be, because putting on a nice dress between cars that cost three or four times what mine does is, to say the least, an experience.

“Are you ready, Liv?” Declan says, slowly opening the door.

“Yep.”

“Great. Then let's go” he says, offering me his hand. “Paris is waiting for us.”

“Paris?” I ask with a confused look.

“Paris” he smiles as we step into the house. 

“Oh my God, Declan!” I gasp.

“Do you like it?” he says, hugging me from behind and resting his chin on my shoulder.

“I love it.” 

He had recreated Paris inside his house. He had printed photos from all the places we had visited during our trip and put them on the walls of the corridor that lead to the living room, including some of the ones we had taken together or of each other. But it didn't end there. Because inside the living room, he had recreated the restaurant where we had been that last night, candles and everything. He even had something like a live video of Paris at night playing on the tv to look as if those were our views.

“I wanted to make it up to you for that night. Give it a second go and make it as special as it was supposed to be.”

“Declan, this is… I… I don't know what to say.”

“Are you speechless?” he asks while moving to be in front of me, one of his hands caressing my cheek, the other on my waist, pulling me closer to him. 

“Totally” I somehow manage to reply. Because my heart is beating faster than ever, the butterflies on my stomach are throwing a party, and my knees are threatening to give up any moment now. 

“Good” he smiles before kissing me. 

That kiss was the first of many that night. Kisses that after the most perfect dinner, would lead us to his room. To our clothes scattered around the floor, to him making me feel things I didn't know were possible.

“Do you want to keep going?” Declan says, brushing his nose against mine. “This time I'm ready” he says, moving to open a small box sitting on his bedside table. 

“Oh my God, Declan. Who keeps his condoms in a Louis Vuitton box?” I laugh.

“I do” he smiles.

“What if one day someone comes in, opens it thinking it is a jewellery box, and sees that? Like, your mum, for example.”

“She'll probably be glad to know that I am taking precautions” he shrugs.

“You mean that you are taking precautions now.”

“Better late than never, Olivia” he grins.

“I seriously can't believe you chose to put them there” I laugh again. “It is so tacky.” 

“It may be tacky, but here you are, in my bed, completely naked, and waiting for me to make you moan my name. Again” he smirks. “Unless you want to stop, of course.”

“I mean, that box is giving me the ick but… No. I don't want to stop here. I want it all. I want you, Declan” I say, my eyes fixed on his as I say those last words. 

“I want you too, Liv” he says before kissing me.