#anyways time to see what happens with him

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCXDP fanfic idea: You ARE the Father.

Clark Kent gets a call from his old high school situationship. Really, he liked her well enough, but both had agreed they did not want to stay stuck in Smallville forever.

Clark wanted to go to the big city for journalism, and Maddie wanted to go into the sciences - she was unsure if she wanted to do organic chemistry or engineering. His parents supported his dream, Maddie's....not so much.

While she did come from a family of intelligent women, the Paynes believed they should stay on the family farm to support the family. They could not understand why Maddie wanted to be strong and independent woman if all that would bring her was dying alone.

According to them, no man wanted a disobent wife. She argued too much with men and often wouldn't back down from her stance.

Apparently, that made her "unlady" like.

Clark never saw it. Personally, he thought women with backbone, who wouldn't take anyone shit, was insanely attractive. That's why he had approached her at the local science fair where she was steaming by her impressive solar energy powered homemade phone.

Her mother had just finished reminding her that her first place in a small high school fair was nothing to be proud of. It was, after all, only Smallville, and really, there wasn't much competition anyway.

Clark told her that she was likely the smartest person in their entire state and he was in awe by her. Maddie kissed him behind the gym the science fair was being held.

Her family forbade her from dating, which made the kiss somehow more exciting.

They met up regularly to sneak kisses or lend a sympathetic ear. Around their last year of high school, they went a little further then kisses, and really the Kent Barn is not the most comfortable place but it was hidden well enough her family wouldn't know what she was up to and Ma wouldn't question him spending the night there.

All the years of sleeping near the cows to keep them company, since he worried they were lonely, as a child paid off. Despite the numerous times they put Kent barn to work, both knew it was nothing serious.

Maddie needed a break from her family. Clark was more than happy to be her stress relief. He did worry a aweful lot about his powers and the fact he was an alien, so he needed some stress relieving of his own around those years too.

Maddie applied secretly to a big college on the Wayne Scholarship states away, and Clark planned on going to Metropolis as soon as possible for the open intership at the Daily Planet.

They were friends with benefits, but the day graduation came around, they never spoke to each other again. Neither were bitter. They had both known what would be the ending long before it arrived. It would have never worked between them.

Clark wasn't sure what Maddie had wanted after all these years, but being presented a teenage girl- the splitting image of Maddie at that age- who was flouting five feet off the ground was not one of them.

"Jazz, meet Clark Kent, you biological father" Maddie Fenton, for she was married now to the man who had raised Jazz like his own. "Clark, this is Jasmine Fenton...you're daughter"

The man of Steel felt like he's was going to faint.

Or.......

Maddie met Jack in her first semester of college. They get alone really well, and she finds herself with a pregnancy scare before she knows what happened. Sometime between the protrype portal and Jack treating her like an equal, she had found her walls coming down long enough to have a little fun.

The worst part is she is unsure of who the father is, the loveable goof she can see herself spending her life with or the kind gentle famer boy she left behind. It's only two months apart, but it was close enough it could go either way.

She tells Jack the truth, who declares that he doesn't care and gets down on one knee right there and then. Maddie agrees to marry him over the choked tears, blooming happiness and love so strong she feels dizzy from it.

A few months later, she gives birth to her Jazz, and two years later, she has Danny. The Fentons finish school, set up Fenton Works, and raise their family. She never considers telling Clark or getting Jazz tested.

She's Jack Fenton's daughter. That's all there is to it.

Until Jazz one day starts showing signs that Jack is not her father. How does Maddie know? Simple, she recognized the man flying around calling himself Superman, and after hearing of his home planet, and all the little things Clark had been too clumsy to properly cover up back in the day, it clicks.

Her daughter is half Kryptonian and her powers were awakening. Did all Kryptonians unlock thier abilities at the teenage age? Was it a puberty thing for thier kind?

Maddie didn't know, but she couldn't afford to let her daighter go in blind. Metas had tough lives. Who knows what being part alien could do. So she picked up the phone and dialed the man who may have the answers.

Meanwhile, Danny and Jazz are desperately trying to hide the fact that Jazz may have gotten some ghost abilities due to exposure from Phantom's Ghostly Wail and have no idea it's being confused for Kryptonian blood. They were careless in training, and now, similar to that whole fiasco with Spetra and her hospital, Jazz was unable to control her temporary abilities.

Jack is just happy to be there and is unaware of any of his family members' delimas.

[logansbaby]

DIET PEPSI | Logan Howlett

❥ summary: stuck in a place of unspoken desire and longing, the limousine drives only further ignite the spark between logan howlett and you. months of built up lust and emotions bubble over when you take control.

word count: 8.1k (im unable to write short smut scenes)

pairings: old man logan howlett x fem!reader

content warnings: 18+ content (MDNI), masturbation, messy kissing, spitting (im so sorry but it’s my weakness), oral (fem!receiving), begging, humping, pussy pronouns (it’s sooooooo) unprotected sex, gagging? it’s just once, car sex, feelings, logan being self destructive, pet names (baby, honey, princess ITS CANON SOOOO) let me know if i missed anything!

❥ a/n: soooooooo…. this took forever im SO sorry! life is absolutely insane and chronic illnesses are not for the weak. anyways think of this as a gift from me to all you sexy people for 2k!!!!!!! thank you so much, i could kiss you all<3 i hope you enjoy, let me know what you think

—˚｡⋆⟡♡⟡⋆｡˚

‘When we drive in your car, I'm your baby (so sweet)

Losing all my innocence in the back seat

Say you love, say you love, say you love me (love me)

Losing all my innocence in the back seat’

Diet Pepsi - Addison Rae

—˚｡⋆⟡♡⟡⋆｡˚

TENSION simmers in the air of the limousine as the driver and passenger engage in a silent staring contest through the rearview mirror. The cool air blasting from the air vents does little to dismantle the heat bubbling in the small space.

Though nonchalance is painted on your face, a darker, seductive glint glimmers in your eyes, a challenge settling within them. You tilt your head, tongue slipping out to glisten your lips with saliva.

There's no shame evident in your gaze; your body is thrumming with pure, hot need and you could cry out with how bad you need the man in the driver's seat.

Logan isn't faring much better— fists gripping the steering wheel tight enough that his healing knuckles turn white, a frown etching deep in his features. He’s desperate to hold onto the tiny sliver of control he has left, mind working to come up with anything to keep him away from giving into this, into you.

This thing between you both started the minute you settled in the backseat of his limousine all those months ago and the unspoken desire has only grown since then.

It’s like there’s something tethering you to him— it’s why you keep coming back to him, calling for his car services despite the fact that your car has long since been fixed. You find yourself craving him, unable to think about anything but him in the early hours of the morning. No matter how many times you come thinking about him, the ache and desire for the man only grows. Though, you haven’t even had a taste.

Yet.

You won’t give in first, though. As much as you want to climb over the seat and suck his cock right then and there as he drives, you’ve held back, just barely, for months.

Logan is a man of very few words and he prefers actions to speaking his feelings. He’s shown you he’s softened to you in the way he hums to show you he’s listening to your rambles. He’s shown it in the way he shows up when you both know you don’t need his car anymore. He doesn’t say it, but you know he wants you as much as you want him, and you’ve been waiting for him to finally give in, to make you his.

As soon as you sat down tonight, fresh from the club, you knew something was bound to happen, especially with the way Logan’s been eying you the entire drive.

Which, it’s important to note that your destination leads to nowhere, you just craved to see the man that badly.

You lean back against the seat, eyes speaking a thousand words as they meet his once more. God, he’s so handsome. His pretty hazel eyes, the slope of his nose, the salt and pepper stubble stretching across his cheeks. Oh, how you want to feel the burn against your—

“Stop that.” Logan’s grunt snaps you from your thoughts.

“Stop what?” You go for innocence but really, your tone is saturated in lust and it gives you away entirely.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what, Logan?” You’re challenging him, and though you can’t see it from the backseat, his dress pants get considerably tighter at the defiance in your voice. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Bullshit,” He counters, eyes flickering to yours and you choose then to bite down on your glossy lips. His knuckles flex with the urge to release the claws piercing beneath his skin; is he crazy for being jealous that he’s not the one biting into the plush skin? “You’re staring at me like you want me to fuck you.”

Vermillion warmth spreads from your chest to your cheeks at his bluntness. It’s completely true, but the dirty truth makes you flush, and your panties to dampen at the thought.

“It’s not gonna happen, baby.” His tone is confident, sure and it pisses you off. “It’s not, so knock it off.”

You roll your eyes, turning to stare out the window. You’re not sure when it started raining, but the water droplets hit the glass pane harshly with its momentum. The pitter patter of water should distract you from Logan, but it just sends you further spiraling.

How dare he deny your feelings and then call you baby?

Blah, blah, blah! His reasons for keeping you apart are pathetic. You couldn’t careless for the years he has on you, you’re a grown woman, and fully capable of what you want. You don’t care what kind of a man he was before he met you; your feelings for him defeat any sense of logic your mind can muster.

You remember how it felt the first time you saw him. Wild, untamed butterflies erupted in the pit of your stomach the moment Logan’s eyes met yours. You remember how your name sounded on his lips, a rough voice rendering chills across your skin.

That day had been a shitty one, your boss scolding you for tiny mistakes and everything had seemed to go wrong. Even more so when your car broke down and your then boyfriend refused to pick you up, instead sending you a link to a limousine service. You were sure nothing would get better from that point on.

But when you sat down in his car, Logan’s presence made you feel safe, and it wracked your brain as to why a stranger made you feel so comfortable.

Evidently, you kept calling the limo service (if you silently praised your ex for leading you to Logan, no one had to know).

You remember how you began looking forward to seeing him. You remember how talking with him, rambling on about whatever, felt normal. You remember how being in the vicinity of him felt like taking a breath of crisp, cool air after months of no oxygen.

Logan has picked you up from the bar, carried you up to your apartment door when you were too drunk to do it yourself. Logan has veered off course when your stomach audibly rumbled during a drive to work, insisting you needed to eat. He even grabbed you a milkshake when you told him how you dumped your ex.

He’s been there in every way that counts, but not close enough.

Somewhere along the way, you’ve become love sick, reduced to a yearning mess each time you see him, each time only furthering your feelings. All you want is for Logan to accept this spark between you and let you in, let you ease his troubles and care— because you do, so much.

And, you might want Logan’s dick deep inside you, his strong body hovering over yours as he fucks you dirty, hard, and rough.

“Whatever, Logan.” Huffing, your eyes roll to further showcase your opinion. You shift in your seat, crossing your legs and the action causes the tiny, black dress to slip further up your thighs.

And because Logan has a staring problem where you’re concerned, he sees the roll of your eyes, the expanse of thigh that’s showing. Whenever you’re like this, so unashamed of your need for him, it makes him want to let go of any morals. It makes him want to throw your legs over his shoulders and devour you, lick up the slick he knows is there. He’d like to finally shut your mouth up, finally stop those bratty comments as he fills you up.

Instead, he stays quiet and focuses on the empty road ahead. He can do this, resist your hazy eyes and luscious lips long enough until he gets you to your destination. The radio is switched on then, some pop song filtering through the vehicle in an attempt to lessen the thick, sexual strain permeating the air.

Though, that little action seems to unravel any little bit of control either of you have.

His indifference annoys you; here you are, adorned in a black, lacy dress that does nothing to cover your thighs and grips your curves deliciously. And, you even turned down an attractive man at the club in favor of having Logan pick you up; just the thought of him made you immune to another’s charm.

How embarrassing are you? Staying loyal to a man that has decided the course of your relationship without your input. You would’ve walked away if it were any other person, but you’ve seen the way he eyes you each time you get inside his car, seen the way his fingers go white as he grips the steering wheel, seen the way his cock goes hard at the sight of you.

And that’s when you decide you’re sick of this. Sick of Logan denying you both mind altering pleasure, sick of him pushing you away, sick of him deciding what’s best for you when you can make your own decisions.

A noisy clink! resounds as you unbuckle your seatbelt, and move towards the front of the car. You feel a prickling gaze at the side of your face as you fit yourself over the console, hand reaching to turn off the radio knob. You let your fingertips just barely graze Logan’s arm as you do so, and you’d think he’s unfazed had you not been so close to see the shudder rack through him, to hear the gruff inhale that has a shaky lilt.

In the corner of your eye, you see his mouth part, but before he can scold you, you remove yourself and land back against the cushion. If you’re going to do this, you want his entire attention on you, not some shitty song filtering through the radio station.

You adjust yourself, wiggling until you’re comfortable. Parting your thighs, you feel your confidence soar as you note how Logan’s eyes track your movements.

The dress is bunched up around the tops of your thighs and with the way your legs are open, stretched enough that your ankles lean against the opposite sides of the leather, the lacy thong is on display.

One hand trails down to the spot between your legs, where you’re slick and wet with want. You don’t touch yourself right away, instead petting the supple skin of your inner thighs. The other hand moves to caress your breasts as they threaten to spill from the confines of the dress. You sigh, a shiver racketing through you as nimble fingers brush your most sensitive spots with a mere graze.

“What are you—“ Logan starts, but you cut him off because you’re in charge here, not him.

“Shut up, Logan.” You’re trying to sound stern but with the way you’re softly petting your nipples through the fabric, it’s more breathy than authoritative.

“Fuck,” Logan spits out, trying really hard to not crash but it’s proving to be a bit impossible with the way he can see you teasing yourself. What’s worse is the fact that the intoxicating scent of your pussy is assaulting his senses. He feels high on your smell, on the way he watches through the mirror as you pinch your chest. “Fuck.”

“You know…” You start, but it’s interrupted by a sudden inhale as you finally touch your tender clit through the thin material, pads rubbing softly until that familiar, hot feeling fills your stomach. “I wish I stayed at the club a little longer.”

“Is that right?” If your eyes were open, you’d see how unhinged and feral the man looks. The skin of his knuckles split open as his claws peak out.

A whimper rings loud into Logan’s ears and fuck, that angelic noise will haunt him for the rest of his fucking life. His eyes snap back to see you slowly rolling your hips into your hands, fingers playing with your clit lazily.

“Mhmm, I shouldn’t have called you. Not when you constantly ignore me.” You whine, spreading your legs further apart than before, feeling a rush you’ve never felt before blossom across your entire body at the show you’re putting on. “You pretend there’s nothing here, you pretend you don’t want me, and it pisses me off.”

He’s trying so incredibly hard to force the words ‘knock it off and cover yourself up’ out, but he can’t.

He can’t when it’s the furthest thing from what he actually wants. He can faintly see the wet spot on your underwear, and he wants to scream at you to remove the material all together— he’s that desperate to see your puffy, pretty cunt glisten in all its glory.

“I don’t ignore you, baby.” It’s grunted out, the pain of his claws only aiding in his desire as his cock grows uncomfortably stiff in his pants. “But I can’t give you what you want.”

Another roll of your eyes sends a shiver down Logan’s aching back. Oh, if you don’t knock it off, he’s going to make you cry as he fucks you dumb.

Happy thoughts… Logan thinks.

“There was this guy in the club.” By the tiny smirk on your lips, he knows he shouldn’t take the bait. He knows you’re trying to push him, trying to get him to let go and take what you both desire. He knows he shouldn’t fall for it.

Too bad hes never been good at listening.

“What?”

The lethal, cold depth of his voice has your eyes flying open and you have the audacity to fucking moan. You’re usually not this… bold? Perhaps Logan just turns you into a feral, needy thing.

“Yeah, he was cute too!” You hum, bubbles of laughter tumbling from bitten lips at the way Logan stares at you, at how he gives you a warning look. “He offered to by me a drink, said he wanted to dance.”

“He’s a dick.”

“No, he said I’m pretty.”

“You are pretty.” It’s angry, the way he forces it out, not because it’s untrue, but because the idea of another man trying to make a move on you, his girl, sends anger boiling beneath his skin.

“He was nice, I don’t know why I bothered to turn him down.” It’s through a moan, the way the words are murmured because your fingers are now rubbing circles over your sex in a motion that has your hips jolting, legs shaking, and lips shiny with spit as you bite at them.

“He’s an asshole, only wants one thing from you.”

“I don’t care, what if I want only one thing from him too?”

“Careful.” He practically growls, the limousine swerving slightly before he gets control over the wheel again.

He’s not sure when you’ve become so fucking obscene, but he aches to bend you over the hood of the car and teach you a lesson. He’s so overwhelmed with the turn of events, of how so many feelings jump about beneath his ribcage.

He knows he’s been pushing you away, ignoring the connection you have, but fuck? The knowledge you can slip away from him at any moment makes him feel agonized.

“Jealous?” You taunt, the material of your underwear darker with the slick pooling there and you both know Logan can see it.

“No.”

“I gave him my number, you know.” It's spoken so nonchalantly that a snarl threatens to escape deep from Logan’s throat. “He said to call if I need anything…”

“Watch it,” it’s calmly muttered, but Logan’s anything but. He’s torn between actually focusing on the road and watching your fingers roll your clit in the rear view mirror. That, and anger rolls off him in thick, daunting waves because of a man he doesn’t even know.

You’ve got him wrapped around your pretty finger and he’s a fool to think anything else. He’s a fool to think he’s been successful in the suppression of his feelings.

“Maybe I should call him,” You suggest, your hand slipping beneath the sodden mesh and finally touching your clit properly. “He was hot.”

Logan’s so wrapped up in your euphoric face and honeyed voice that he’s struggling to remember why he’s so riled up.

“Stop tryna piss me off. You’re on my last fuckin’ nerve.” He’s stern, but you just smile wide and slip the pads of your fingers down to swipe up the arousal dripping from your hole, your whiny pants making his spine go rigid.

“I’m not doing anything, Logan.”

“Bullshit. Whatever you think you’re doing, it’s not gonna work. This can’t happen.”

He’s trying so hard to convince himself as much as you. His words don’t bother you though, because the smile on your face morphs into a satisfied smirk.

“You don’t want me?” You challenge, and you stare him down as your fingers retreat from your cunt. You lift your hand up to your mouth, never once looking away as you stick them past your lips and suck.

Your body jolts when the car swerves wildly, but instead of fear, blistering lust fills you and burns your cheeks. Logan looks so incredibly distraught with how your lips wrap around your fingers, a soft ‘hmmm’ falling from you at the taste of desire blooming across your tastebuds.

“Shit, honey. Of course I want you. You don’t know how bad I need you.”

“Please.” You cry out, voice high and dripping with want. Your fingers part from your wandering tongue, traveling down the path of your curves to find your pussy again. “Please, please—“

“No.”

“Logan!” You’re so overwhelmed with your blatant need for the man that actual tears pool at your lashes.

“No.”

“And why the fuck not?”

“Don’t give me attitude.” He commands and you must be sick because the stern, finality of his tone has your hole clenching around nothing. “You know why.”

“—oh my god, Logan. Not this again, the ‘I’m not a good guy,’ and ‘I’m too old for you’ is absolute shit! I don’t care, I want you to fuck me.”

You’re so forthright that he can’t be blamed with how his stomach churns with intense hunger.

“You deserve so much more, more than I can give you.”

Logan seems to forget that as much as he’s come to know you, you’ve also picked up on his own habits. So, you know he’s full of shit by the twitch of his hands on the wheel, the tightening of his lips, the way he’s staring at you like a man starved.

“You know what? Fine, that’s fine. I’ll just call Nate and—“

“Who?” The cold note in his words should scare you, but it just sends another wave of slick to seep down your thighs.

“Nate! The guy from the club,” you say, one hand reaching for the phone hidden in your purse, and the other rubbing slow circles on your neglected clit. The mixture of your spit and wetness is noisy as you rub yourself, the sound driving Logan fucking insane.

“I told you, the guy sounds like a dick. The fuck kind of name is that?” Logan’s patience is running out and you both know it, the string tearing with each tug you give. His eyes widen when you wiggle the phone in his eyeline.“Don’t you fuckin’ dare.”

“Why? At least he was willing to fuck me.”

And, oh.

You’re not sure what causes you to say that, but the atmosphere turns tense, filling with anticipation, something dark and dangerous enough that chills run across your exposed skin.

It’s silent. Astonishingly silent as Logan tears his gaze from you, his eyes only forward now. You don’t back down; you know you’re driving the man crazy and it feels fucking good.

Without tearing your eyes from him, you hit the call button.

The sound of the phone dialing has Logan snapping. The car tires screech loudly as Logan slams on the breaks, yanking the wheel to pull of to the side of the road.

Your hands fly out to catch yourself from the swift, jerky motion. A sense of accomplishment bubbles inside your chest when Logan shuts the car off, his body frantic and quick before he’s out the driver's door.

You’re jittery with nerves, despite the fact you were just rubbing your clit like a madwoman in front of him. You were tempting him, sure. But now that he’s finally snapped, you’re nervous.

You gasp as chilly air hits you in the face when the back door opens. In an instant, he’s in the back with you, slamming the door shut. His presence is so intimidating and powerful that you shiver, arousal licking at your back as he crowds into your space.

He glares at you, and just as about you’re about to speak, a rough, large hand grips your chin tightly. He squeezes your cheeks, thumb pulling at your bottom lip. His other hand yanks the phone from your fingers and chucks the device in the front seat.

“So fucking stubborn and bratty, always fucking pushing me. Never stop talking, do you?”

“I’ll have you kno—“

Logan slams his mouth onto yours then, effectively shutting you the fuck up.

It’s like fireworks are set off in your stomach, a trickle of mind numbing pleasure tingling every inch of you. You’ve imagined this moment for months, wondered how it’d feel, but nothing your imagination conjured up could ever compare to the real thing.

Logan’s kisses are passionate, eager. He lifts your entire body into his lap in one, quick motion. The causal display of his sheer strength causes your body to melt into him. Your choked gasp is swallowed by his lips, his tongue licking at yours and oh, the wetness of it sends a wave of flutters straight to your cunt.

His mouth is harsh, the scruff of his beard scratching at your chin with a tasteful burn. His rough hand leaves your thigh to snake into your hair, wrapping the strands around his fingers until a messy ponytail forms. Without warning, he tugs firmly to pull you from his mouth.

He watches as your eyes fly open, as a string of saliva connects from his lips to yours. He feels pride thrum within his chest as you try to lean in immediately, chasing the taste of him, his kiss, his tongue.

Logan doesn’t allow you though, yanking at your hair to keep you in place.

“Not speaking now, are you?” Logan grunts out, tugging your head back so he can lick a hot, wet stripe up the expanse of your neck. He sucks at the skin there, hips threatening to thrust up at the moans spilling from your open mouth. “Finally found a way to keep you fuckin’ quiet.”

“Logan—“ you start, mind cloudy with the overwhelming feeling of his wet mouth on your skin, but he just smashes his lips on yours again.

And holy fuck, the way he’s kissing you, like he’s been starved of a meal and you’re the only thing edible, like he can’t get enough of your taste, has your panties growing even wetter. You snake your arms around Logan’s neck tightly, hips swiveling down in his lap so you can rub yourself over his bulge.

Your moan tangles with the surprised groan from Logan when your center grinds down on his cock, the feeling indescribable, utterly intoxicating and above all— right. It feels so fucking right.

His hand releases your hair in favor of grabbing handfuls of your ass and squeezing, guiding your hips as he licks at the roof of your mouth.

Its almost embarrassing how riled up you are with just kissing and humping, but you can’t be blamed, not really. Not with the way Logan’s dragging your cunt along his hard cock as he sucks your tongue— it’s so fucking good that his pants are wet with your lust, even through your panties and his pants.

When you finally pull back, it’s with his bottom lip tucked between your teeth, enticing a hiss from the man as you bite down. You lose your hands in his messy hair, tugging until his eyes open and fuck— his pupils are huge, dark with need for you.

Cradling his cheeks, you release and lick at his lip, soothing the sting your teeth left. You startle as Logan thrusts up in reaction, the head of him tapping your clit, and despite the barriers between you, it feels fucking amazing.

Logan catches your lips in a messy, slick embrace. There’s no gentleness, only pure sensuality leading his bruising kisses. You get so wrapped up in the pleasure of Logan’s mouth on yours, his cock rutting into your clothed center so delectably, that time is lost.

When you push Logan’s face away, it’s because your lungs burn with the need for oxygen.

Logan’s unfazed, lips moving down your throat and leaving wet kisses across your neck. You’re sucking in oxygen desperately, hands shaky as they stroke up and down Logan’s back. You want to remember every inch of him, that’s how addicting it is to touch his skin.

“Fuck, I can smell you.” He mutters against your collarbone, rough hands roaming all over your body, as if he needs to memorize the feel of you.

“Yeah?”

You’re a fucking mess— hands wrappped tightly around the back of his neck, leaving scratches that stay for longer than they would’ve decades prior, and you’re still rolling your hips in his lap, trying and failing to ease the ache in your cunt. It only further intensifies the achy throbbing with each grind of restless hips.

“Smells so fuckin’ sweet. Gonna let me have a taste, baby?”

“Yes! Please, Logan, please.” You’re far too gone, too drunk on the feel of his lips on your chest to care how pathetic you sound.

You lean back, grabbing Logan’s face to meet yours, sighing softly as your wet lips melt together once more. He groans, one hand coming up to tangle in your hair, tugging hard as he turns your head any way he pleases, using you. It’s then you realize you’d let him do anything to you.

You’re not sure how much time passes as Logan devours your mouth, it could be mere minutes or hours, but you’ve been too tangled up in his to care. What you do know is that you feel as though you’re going to explode if you don’t relieve the pressure in your pussy soon.

You’re whining, pawing at Logan’s chest and rubbing your wetness on the pant of his thigh, trying to get the man to touch you moremoremore.

But Logan’s too occupied with sucking on your tongue and biting your bottom lip meanly. He uses the grip he has on your hair to keep you there, rendered useless as he messily kisses you breatheless.

“Logan, Logan, Logan.” You moan and even though it’s mumbled into his own lips, he hears you all the same. “Need you. Please.”

And then, it’s like Logan’s realizing the current situation— you, a whimpering mess and rubbing your cunt along his lap as your spit soaked lips mesh with his own in a delicious, salacious embrace. You, who he knows he can’t afford to lose, and if he continues touching you, you’ll fade away like everything else good in his life.

He pushes your face back, but makes no move to remove your weight from his body. A frown settles over your blissed out features, dread replacing the butterflies fluttering about inside you.

“Logan?”

“You don’t want this.” He’s refusing to look at you, his hazel eyes blown out with pleasure wondering around the interior of the limousine as if he hasn’t seen it before.

“I do. I want this. I want you.” You cradle his bearded face in your hands, thumbs caressing the prickly grays scattered across his cheeks. “I do.”

“No, baby. You don’t, you deserve so much better—“

His words are lost in the air as you connect your swollen lips with his. You bully your tongue inside, swiping along his, sighing when his hips buck up at your boldness. The action has his cock rutting your covered clit in such an angle that you could probably come just like that.

“Can’t you feel how badly I want you?” You whisper, peppering sweet kisses along his cheeks, nose, eyelids. Staring into his eyes, so muddled with conflict and something sweeter, you kiss him again.

“Shit,” he groans into your mouth, tongues dancing in a pace that has you dizzy, whimpering inside mouth as your lace covered mound ruts at his thigh. “Can’t baby. You deserve someone better, not some old fucking man who’s done more harm than good.”

“I don’t need better, I need you.” You emphasize the point by grabbing his hand and shoving them down your panties.

A symphony of your shared moans ricochets through the small space; you, at the feel of his rough, thick fingers finally touching your slit. Logan, at the feel of your sweet, sweet arousal soaking your cunt slippery.

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to find any excuse as to why he should push you away when kissing you, touching you feels this fucking good. Even as his brain works, his fingers tease your fluttering hole and collect your wetness and dragging it to your clit.

“See? I need you, please. Logan, please.”

You stare up at him, eyes wide with so many feelings that cause his heart to pump faster and his cock to jerk.

He seals his fate then and there— Logan’s sick and tired of all the bad in his life, and he doesn’t know much, but what he does know is that you make him feel like he’s good, like he’s fated for something other than drowning in whiskey. And he’s sick of denying himself of you.

“Fuck it.” He mutters, eyes on your lips before melting into you, lips meshing together wetly.

Your moan is loud and sweet, hands leaving his face in favor of gripping his shoulders, nails digging into the crisp white of the fabric there.

He pulls back, ignoring the need washing over him at the mewl falling from you at the sudden removal of him.

“Shh, baby.” He soothes, a large hand finding purchase on your chin, his fingers teasing your lips and rubbing the saliva there. “Open up.”

The quickness at which you obey him makes him want to impale you with his cock then, but he just barely restrains. Your lips are parted, tongue peaking out and waiting; the picture you paint will be a reoccurring dream for him, forever.

Logan leans over you before spitting onto your tongue, watching as the saliva glistens in your mouth. You gasp, the act so incredibly dirty and carnal that you shiver in his lap.

“Swallow.” He commands, squeezing your cheeks together, nearly getting lost in the dazed, euphoric look in your eyes. And you do, because of course you do. ”Atta girl.”

A sob nearly escapes you at that you’re so turned on beyond belief that you’ll burst into tears if Logan doesn’t fuck you soon.

Almost like he can read your mind, he moves you around until your back hits the cool, chilly leather of the seat. He settles himself on the floor of the limousine before you, ignoring the aches he feels stinging his lower back. The pain lingering in his bones becomes a background noise when he looks at you— as if just one look from you heals wounds deep within him.

Logan runs his hands along your legs slowly, teasingly as he presses a kiss on your upper thigh.

“Been dreaming of this pussy for so long.” He starts, leaning until your covered mound is warm with his breath. You’re trembling, suspense hot in your stomach as you wait for him to do something. “Everytime you get in the car, I can smell you. And everytime, I want to fucking eat you out.”

“Logan, please.” You cry out, his filthy words making you dizzy with desire.

And seeing you, someone who’s so unabashedly themselves and talkative be reduced to a withering mess, has a grin threatening to grace his face.

“I got you, baby. Gonna take care of you.”

And he does.

Logan presses a soft, barely there kiss to your lace covered slit before licking a slow, warm path from your hole to your aching clit.

“Oh my god!” You cry out, thighs trying and failing to clench closed as Logan’s hands keep them spread open. He groans at your taste, the hint of something so entirely you.

He grabs each thigh and wraps them around his neck before pulling the sodden material aside with his thumb to finally expose your pussy to him.

And at the sight of your cunt glistening with slick, with unsuppressed desire, makes him fucking lose it.

“She’s so wet, fucking dripping everywhere,” groans, and it takes your muddled brain a second before realizing he’s talking about your pussy.

A moan falls from you, deep from your chest and full of need and hunger as Logan’s tongue swirls over your slit, dipping into your dripping hole. He’s messy as he eats you out, completely driven by a primal urge to completely devour you in the most intimate sense. His movements are rash, his appetite stronger than anything else.

Logan leans back a bit, eyes flickering to yours to ensure you’re focused on him before he spits directly onto your pussy.

A gasp sounds, your chest heaving at the warmth of his saliva coating your center, and it’s so dirty, so insanely hot that it only causes more slick seeps from you.

Logan leans back, ignoring your whine as he uses his thumbs to spread your pussy wide open, your sex bare to him. Its obscene, the way he stares at the mixture of saliva and slick glistening your slit. It’s a sight, your cunt crying for him and clenching around nothing as your hips try to buck at his mouth.

Logan laps it all up, tongue flat as he greedily licks up and down your sex. And you’re losing it— not only is his tongue fucking you, going as deep as he can, but Logan’s nose is also bumping against your clit with each thrust of his mouth. Warmth swarms in your stomach and your thighs shake with a promise of an orgasm in the distance.

“Feels so good!” You manage, your hips thrusting up into his face.

You were right— the beard feels fucking amazing rubbing mean and unforgiving against the sensitive skin of your thighs, against your slit.

“Tastes so good, the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.” Logan moans, replacing his tongue with two fingers. His cock hardens even more with the way your cunt swallows his fingers right away, your warm, wet walls squeezing around them.

That familiar burn swelters in your pelvis, pure heat sizzling through your veins and for a moment, you forget to breathe. It gets worse when Logan suddenly wraps his swollen lips around your puffy clit and sucks.

The pleasure of it all is so sudden that it smothers you entirely— your back arches off the leather, your pussy convulsing as Logan’s fingers and tongue work you to an orgasm quicker than you ever have before.

“Logan, Logan.” You pant, hands tugging the graying tufts of hair, and you’re unsure if you’re trying to push him impossibly closer and away at the same time.

He only releases his suction on your clit when tears prickle your eyes, when you shake on his fingers from the stimulation of it all. He gently places a kiss to your clit, smiling when you jolt. His lips travel along your sweaty thighs, hands stroking your calves as you struggle to breathe.

“That’s it, honey. I got you.”

“Come here,” is all you have the strength to muster, needing his lips on yours instead of your trembling thighs.

Logan obliges, because if you asked him to get you the moon, he’d do his damn hardest to get it.

“Hi,” you whisper once he’s level with you, body slotted between your limp one. Your arms move without your knowledge, wrapping comfortably around his nape.

“Hi, baby.” His voice is deeper, almost as if he’s completely blissed out on the taste of your pussy and come.

It’s then you see how insane he looks— his chin, lips, and the tip of his nose is wet, completely soaked with you. His eyes are wild, hazy with need and his hair is messy from wandering fingers. He looks so incredibly handsome right now, in your arms, covered in you that you can’t be blamed for the moan that escapes.

You tug him close, lips locking in a newly familiar kiss. The taste of you envelopes over your tongue as you lick along his mouth, a satisfied hum vibrating from your lips to his.

What starts as a sweet, lazy kiss turns heated quickly, and though you’ve just come, your sex aches to be filled. It’s a mess of tongues and saliva, teeth clashing as your lips interlock and wrap around one another.

Your hands begin to unbutton his shirt, marveling at the feel of muscle that’s revealed with each pop of a button. You shrug the fabric off and grab at his shoulders, nails digging into the skin and trailing down to the middle of his back.

“Fuck!” Logan groans, biting your bottom lip as you scratch at him.

Instead of responding, you push at his chest until he falls into the seat across yours before throwing yourself in his lap again. You’re crazed, an unsatisfied hunger clinging to every inch of you and threatening to overtake your senses.

“Always so damn bossy.” He’s taunting you, but with the way his dick jolts as you yank your dress off, you know you’ve got him right where you want him.

You gaze at him, guiding his hands from your hips to your chest, urging him to take off your bra.

Logan’s too impatient to actually remove the fabric though, because he simply pulls at the cups until they give way to the pressure and your breasts pool over the band.

“So fuckin’ pretty.” He groans, leaning down and taking a pebbled nipple between his lips. You whine as he sucks, his fingers rubbing and pulling your other nipple. He switches his attention between both for a while and desire pools in your stomach, heat tingles across your skin, and you can’t wait any longer.

With quick hands, you work to undo his buckle before yanking down his boxers and dress pants in one motion, leaving them in a mess at his ankles. Logan releases your chest in favor of watching you nearly drool at his cock.

He’s huge. The tip is flushed, red and swollen, dripping pearly white bubbles from the slit. His shaft is thick with veins leading down to a patch of short, curled hair at the base. Even in the dim light of the limousine, you note how the vein on his lower stomach connects to the ones decorating his cock. Fuck, you suddenly want to feel the heaviness of him on your tongue and you’d ignore your own needs to choke on the entirety of him. You crave his taste, his come, and—

“Next time, baby.” Logan startles you from your filthy thoughts, and you actually whine at his words. “As much as I’d like to fuck your pretty mouth, I need to be inside you.”

And despite the fact that the man has eaten you out and stolen an orgasm already, you flush with warmth.

Logan finds you amusing, his hand wrapping around the base of his cock and yanking you until your hole is kissing his tip. Your hips move forward, and a whole body shiver wracks through you when your clit brushes his shaft.

“C’mon, princess. Show me how bad you want it.” He emphasizes his taunt with a squeeze of your waist, his lips brushing yours. “Not so cocky now, huh?”

With a glare, you push his hand away and wrap yours around his cock, guiding it to your wet, slick hole. Logan merely raises an eyebrow as your other hand grips his shoulder to lift yourself up enough. Without warning, you sink down onto the the tip of him, nails digging into his shoulder at the overwhelming feel bubbling over you.

“Fuck,” Logan growls, head leaning forward onto your shoulder as you squeeze around him purposefully, cunt sucking him down bit by bit as you lower yourself, only stopping when he fills you to the brim.

“Not so cocky now, huh?” You huff, a grin on your flushed face as you repeat his previous words back at him.

Logan doesn’t respond, to focused on not coming immediately— you’re so fucking tight, so wet and warm that he’s struggling.

The stretch is painful, but not unpleasant as you adjust to his size. When the burn fades away and instead comes a delicious thrum, you unleash.

You lift your hips up, enticing a broken moan from Logan as you move up and slam back down in slow, articulated motions.

“Feel so good, baby. So good.”

“Yeah?” You say, hands creeping into his hair to pull each time his tip brushes that spot inside you.

“Yeah.” The kiss he presses to your cheek makes your heart flutter, an act so pure in the midst it all.

You continue your torturous pace, pride warming your chest when Logan’s hands tighten on your hips, urging you to go faster.

You could go faster, but you like the way Logan looks like he’s struggling to suck in oxygen each time his cock returns to your hole.

You catch his mouth in an open, wet kiss. He grunts, and before you can even think, Logan moves his hips upwards and you cry out.

Oh.

Oh.

Suddenly, Logan’s stripped you of control and thrusts his cock deep inside you in quick, harsh movements. You’re fucking dripping, desire slicking your thighs and Logan’s. He feels so good and he’s so deep and he’s holding you in place so you have no choice but to take it, take the assaulting pace he’s set.

“Shit,” Logan grits out, arms tightly wrapped around your midsection as he fucks you from below. “This is what you wanted?”

You’re so overcome with euphoria, so deeply gone in the waves of pleasure, that you can only nod. Each time he’s fucks up into you, his pubic bone brushes your swollen, pulsing clit in a delicious graze that has tears gathering at your lash line.

“This is what you wanted? For me to fuck you dumb?” He mutters between clenched teeth, his hips moving in a deadly way now. “You just wanted to be fucking full of me, huh?”

“Yes!” You mewl, mouth falling onto his as your tongues messily swirl around, moans and groans mixing with the wet kisses.

The pressure building in your abdomen is almost too much, teasing you each time his cock slams inside. Despite being as close as physically possible, you ache to be closer.

You stop Logan, lifting yourself off him with a hiss. The sudden absence of him leaves you feeling uncomfortably empty and unconsciously, your hole clenches as wetness drips from you and onto the leather seats.

“What’s wro—“ you cut him off by pushing him until he’s laying back on the long seat. Once he’s settled down, as shock paints his expression, you climb shakily back onto his lap.

Sighs of relief echo through the air as your cunt sucks him down and a filthy squelch sounds. With him like this, he’s somehow deeper. You’re so incredibly full, it feels unreal.

The tingling, sweltering sensation in your cunt has you grinding across his lap, the base of his cock rubbing your clit delicately.

“Fuck. Doin so good for me.” Logan bends an arm behind his head so he can watch the way your eyes roll back with each grind, the way your tits jostle with each thrust and hump. “That’s it, baby.”

His praise has you finding a delicious, intoxicating rhythm as you lift up and down, up and down. The ridges and veins of his shaft kiss your walls and your thighs tremble with the feeling. Your hands reach back and grip your asscheeks to pull them apart further, needing his cock to go even deeper.

Logan is enamored by the sight before him— his pretty girl desperately splitting her cunt onto his cock, eyes rolling back with spit-slicked lips resembling an ‘o’.

His hand wraps around your throat tightly, pulling you down until your chest is flush against his. The action has you clumsy, arms swinging out to grip whatever is nearest to steady yourself. He places both hands across your ass and lifts you like you weigh nothing, mimicking your previous thrusts with more force, more speed.

A harmony of ‘uh, uh’s’ filter through his ears as Logan uses you and fucks you down onto his cock. You’re a whining mess, latching onto him tightly as his hips start to thrust upwards, his hands slamming your hips back down.

Suddenly, he wishes that he had his phone close because seeing you like this is a sight he wants to capture forever.

“C’mon, baby. Can feel how close you are.” He grits out between thrusts. One hand leaves your ass to cradle your slackened jaw, gripping tight enough as he forces your eyes on his.

Logan pushes his thumb past your lips and a deep moan falls from him as you suck at his finger. With your gaze never leaving his, you mimic a blowjob as you suck and swirl your tongue along his thumb.

“Mine.” Logan moans, his digit pressing down onto your tongue. He feels a sick sense of pleasure envelope him as you gag at the pressure, eyes glittering with unshed tears. “My fuckin’ girl.”

You nod instantly, a sweet, gooey feeling spreading across your chest at his words, at his voice. You pathetically grind down as Logan fucks upward, spit glistening your lips and his thumb as you messily suck on him.

An overbearing urge to get you to climax surges within him, and he sighs mockingly when you groan as his thumb slips from the confines of your pretty mouth. With a new vigor, Logan fucks you harder, faster, dirtier. He slips a hand between your sweaty bodies and when his fingers swirl over your clit, you explode.

The roughness of his hips, the precision of his fingertips on your clit, and the intensity of the moment catches up with you and you’re coming abruptly. It’s intense, the way a maddening bliss coats your entire body and soul. It leaves you breathless and dizzy as your eyes prickle with spots along your vision.

You’re moaning, words unintelligible against the warmth of Logan’s chest, and your cunt squeezes around him in sharp, sporadic pulses.

Logan’s so close to losing it and you don’t even realize it, too busy trying to inhale oxygen into greedy lungs. Huffs tumble from you, but instead of really trying to breathe, you lift your face to pepper wet, open mouthed kisses across his torso and that does it for him.

“Fuck…” Logan moans, gutteral and rough as he slams your hips down onto his cock, his cock painting your walls with come as euphoria encompasses him entirely. “Fuck, baby.”

Your body feels like it’s on fire— clit throbbing with overstimulation as Logan’s cock continues to fill you to the brim with his orgasm. Tears of pleasure have spilled over the apples of your cheeks, the strands of your hair sticking to your sweaty, flushed face.

You continue to gently kiss up his chest and neck before you move to hold Logan’s face. Eyes fill with astonishment as you take in the way his eyes roll with the aftershocks of his peak. Thumbing at his cheeks, you kiss his lips gently before pressing kisses all along his face. His cheeks, the slope of his nose, his chin, forehead, and even the furrow of his brows.

You don’t even notice Logan staring at you with complete adoration until he removes your hand to kiss your palm.

You smile at him, bashful even with his softening cock is still inside you, stuffing you full of his come.

“C’mere.” He says, pulling you close until your lips melt over one another’s in a sweet, passionate kiss.

With a sudden thought, you pull away and fix him with a stern stare. Unfortunately for you, the furrow of your brows and purse of your lips only causes his heart to beat faster beneath the adamantium ribcage. You just look so pretty right now, sitting atop of him breathless and sweaty, a glaze settled over your irises.

“What's that face for?” His brow is raised and a smile is teasing his swollen lips.

“No more pushing me away, Logan.”

His gaze softens then, reminded of his self sabotage and the way he’s been adamant in keeping you at arms length, despite his yearn for more, his need for you.

“No more pushing you away, baby.” His lips meet yours softly, finality in his tone that eases your worries and wandering thoughts.

You lay your head down in the crook of his neck and hug him, intent to never let him go. Logan’s heart clenches with an emotion he’s not quite yet ready to face, so instead he presses a kiss to your hairline as his fingers stroke your back.

The atmosphere is no longer tense, but rather peaceful as every single desire has finally been satiated to the point of calmness. Eventually, he knows he’ll have to pull away from you and actually drive you home (and he will be coming inside, he can’t wait to properly fuck you in your bed), but he wants to stay in your embrace a little longer. It’s a blissful moment, and the serenity of it is something he hasn’t felt in a long, long time.

“Logan?” You whisper, tired as you rub your nose along his neck.

“Yeah, honey.”

“I didn’t give that guy my number… I actually told him to fuck off.”

And when you say it with a slightly guilty tone, a laugh rumbles deep from his chest. He doesn’t care, because that little white lie caused him to finally say fuck it and allow you both to have each other, after months of built up tension and horribly hidden feelings.

The feeling you erupt in his chest is foreign and it scares him— but with the weight of you in his arms, he knows he’ll do anything to keep you.

˚｡⋆⟡♡⟡⋆｡˚ fin

[auroracalisto]

Hey can you do a fiyero x reader where the reader is afraid of being vulnerable and he helps them?

yes, superfartninja, i think i can.

to be changed.

movie!fiyero x gn!reader, 3.4k words summary: to be vulnerable meant to be defenseless. it was a liability and that's all it ever would be. fiyero couldn't have that, now could he? a/n: please remember that i only have movie knowledge, so this will be based solely on what i saw in the movie. :P also, shout outs to house song by searows (was on repeat for this fic). erm. this kind of got away from me. i started it was 12 AM and now it's nearly 2 AM. hope it's coherent.

It wasn't like you to be vulnerable. It just didn't happen. It was like... asking a fish or an elephant to climb a tree, or some other weird analogy that you heard oh-so-long ago, when vulnerability aged you more than it helped.

To be vulnerable meant to be hurt. To be ridiculed, to be laughed at, to be made a fool in front of anyone who cared to look your way. It was something that you knew was not needed. You would be fine living by yourself. You came into this world alone and screaming, and you would leave this world the same way.

If you cut out the wound before it began to fester, you solved the problem immediately. Or so they say.

So that's what you did, long ago, when you swore to yourself that the pain you felt would be the very last time. It would never happen again. It couldn't happen again.

Oh, Oz, it couldn't. Your heart couldn't take it.

What was left of your heart, anyway. Sometimes you feared you no longer had one, especially when you feared the pain that would haunt you if someone else came along and made you feel that way again.

It's not that you were afraid. No, fear of being vulnerable was foolish. At least... you believed that you weren't afraid of being vulnerable.

Perhaps that was an act of foolishness in itself. Pretending that you weren't afraid. Pretending that having few friends and few moments of happiness didn't pierce your heart with every passing second.

Perhaps you needed to be better. To be vulnerable, to swear off that silly promise you made to yourself so many years ago.

But it was so difficult.

Being vulnerable was to be in pain. To be lost to a world of sorrow. To be... hurt by the very thing you swore you'd never be hurt by again.

It wouldn't happen.

You wouldn't let it.

He existed in the back of your mind. His beautiful blue eyes, the way those pretty locks fell in front of his eyes when he actually studied his books (if he ever did, of course).

When was the last time he actually tried...? No. You couldn't think of him like that. Too much thinking about his pretty face would ruin you.

You had only talked to him a few times here and there, and the first time was to merely ask him to move out of the way. He took up quite a lot of space—or at least, maybe it was his confidence. It oozed from him like an air of upmost superiority.

No...

You were just being cruel. He was just standing in the way, out of breath from singing to Galinda in the library (because of course—who didn't sing to pretty girls in libraries anymore?).

The second time you spoke to him was over the essay you had to write in your literature class. Peer reviews were the bane of your existence, and this essay, because of course it did, had a simple prompt in response to one of your readings: Taking into account the author's sheer disdain for the idea of magic, write what you believe Oz would be like without magic.

Thought-provoking, yes. You wrote a decent two pages, handwritten of course.

He gave you a paragraph.

If the world of Oz existed without magic, perhaps we would all be better off. No more bickering over the usages of it all, no more idiosyncrasies, no more debates on whether you are intelligent or mediocre if you hadn't the ability to wave a wand or utter a simple spell. If we didn't have magic, perhaps life would be far more difficult, but I also feel as if we should see what it would be like. Maybe there would be less heartbreak. More happiness to go around.

Okay. A piss-poor paragraph that made you wonder how he was even passing Madame Lillabet's literature class.

Maybe he wasn't.

You didn't feel pity for the man—nobility had the ability to do so many things that you would only ever dream of. Why should you feel pity—vulnerability—for a man you didn't know, let alone understood?

Oz, even now, his essay haunted you. You did your best with your review, pointing out the obvious things missing—a decent thesis, body paragraphs that proved his thesis, and just in general, an entire essay that was expected of the entire class.

He merely read over your essay and made one simple comment: Excellent.

Oh, yes, excellent. It was excellent to know that he was just trying to help your essay, yes? Leaving that little comment, even though you didn't make full marks—how was it supposed to help you?

Pity be damned. He was a fool, through and through.

Things muddled in your mind like they often did. Thoughts racing, heartbeat close behind the quick pace.

If you had magic, you'd be sure to quell it.

These thoughts were the one thing that you wished you could squash under the heel of your boot. They were the bane of your existence, the utterance of a foolhardy penance to the god of whatever looked down upon you and wished for pain.

Perhaps that was what was meant for you.

A life of pain—of pity from others, of the amenability to be swayed by those around you even when you tried, desperately, to stay away from those who may catch your attention.

Like him.

Oh, Oz, just like him.

Fiyero.

The man who'd lose his head if it wasn't attached to his shoulders. The man who once told you in passing that if he hadn't a brain, perhaps classes would be easier—then he wouldn't truly be all there, and he'd easily get around the... well, specifics of it all. The man whom you felt tugging at your heartstrings, even when you told yourself no.

It would not happen.

It could not happen.

You would not let it.

In typical, terrible luck fashion, you found yourself wandering the halls of Shiz late at night, unable to sleep. The thoughts racing through your head of so many things, not just him (although they kept leading back to the fool), they just weren't stopping.

An exam was to be held tomorrow. Perhaps you could create a distraction—keep the professors from being able to do as they needed. There were a box of fireworks hidden in one of the many corridor closets, kept for special occasion. You could whip a few of them out and create so much chaos that they'd surely have to cancel the exam!

You leaned against the railing, looking down at the stonework of Shiz's courtyard. A chill ran down your spine from the cold breeze, and for once, all was silent if only for a moment.

His voice brought you out from your thoughts.

"Y/n," he said, an obvious smile playing at his lips.

You squeezed your eyes shut and glanced back at him. Without saying a word, you acknowledged him.

"Doesn't look like your dorm," he continued. "What are you doing out here, all alone?"

"Thinking."

His eyebrow quirked. "Thinking? Oh," he softly hummed, coming to stand beside of you. "Well, that's no fun, now is it? What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

He snorted softly. "You're thinking about... nothing?"

"Whatever I'm thinking is none of your business," you retorted.

He stared you down for a moment, tilting his head curiously. He hummed again and looked out at where you had been staring moments prior.

"You are right," he softly said, voice much quieter this time. "Let me lead you back to your room. We have an exam tomorrow, remember? You at least need to pretend to sleep."

You paused. Since when did he care about exams? You glanced at him, fighting the urge to question him. You let out a soft sigh and shrugged, allowing him to lead you to your dorm.

The walk was quiet, and you almost questioned how he knew where your dorm was, but you didn't. He seemed to pay attention better than most (it was part of that aloofness, you've noticed), and it wasn't the first time he had seen you near your dorm.

It was at least the third. The number had to be easy to memorize by now. 133.

As you opened your door, Fiyero spoke. "You know, I've been thinking..."

"Dangerous thing for you, isn't it?" you quipped, not looking at him as you stepped inside.

He let out a soft chuckle. You amused him to no end.

"Yes, perhaps," he softly said. "But besides. I was still thinking. I've been... well, wondering if perhaps you would—"

"—no."

He blinked slowly. "What? No? Y/n, you didn't even hear what I had to say—"

"—the answer is still no," you said. You glanced up at him from the spot you had been staring at, frowning. "I don't know what this is, but we are not friends. Do not ask me for favors."

"Not friends, hm?" he softly hummed, leaning against the doorway as he locked eyes with you. So knowing your dorm number was just a fluke.

"Not friends. Now if you'll excuse me, I should probably go and pretend to sleep."

His upper lip quirked in a faint smirk. Not friends, but you still joked with him as a friend would do. He rolled his eyes and gave you a rather joking half-bow.

"Of course," he said. "Do not let me keep you up. Perhaps I should find my dorm as well."

"You should do that," you simply said, shutting the door right after.

You didn't give him a chance to say anything else, quickly locking the door and heading back to your bed.

Heart pounding, mind still racing, but not with the thoughts of earlier. No, dear reader, your mind raced with thoughts of him.

So impressionable, so—so kind, so—well, was he really kind?

To you.

He was kind to you.

Nearly a week passed you by. The exam went rather well, without any kind of distraction. Passing marks and a somewhat decent night sleep.

You do everything you can to try and avoid Fiyero. Running this way and that, going through all of the longer corridors instead of the shortcuts you knew by heart. You did everything you could to avoid his handsome face.

You did everything you could to avoid the vulnerability that plagued your heart every time you thought of him.

If you simply embraced the wants of Fiyero, perhaps not having a brain would keep you from thinking this way. You'd still have a heart, sure, but it was much better than keeping yourself on your toes wondering if you'd see the damned man at any passing second.

On the hour of the rising moon, almost exactly on the dot, Fiyero spotted you. And this time, you were not evading him.

He practically took off after you, leaving his friends behind. They scoffed and called after him, but he didn't look back. His focus was on you.

He grabbed onto your wrist as you went to leave, not letting you go.

"Y/n! There you are," he softly said. "I have been looking everywhere for you. I wouldn't have thought it would be so difficult to find you, but—"

"—there you go, thinking again," you blurted, unable to stop yourself. Your tongue was wagging faster than your brain was working.

He weakly smiled. "Yes. I know. How ironic, hm?"

You watched as he stared you down.

"Look," he softly began. "I truly—I do not know what I did to deserve you ignoring me at any which way, but I wish you would tell me why. What did I do, Y/n? I thought—well, I assumed that we were friends, but perhaps I was wrong. I find myself wrong quite often nowadays."

"I—well, Fiyero, I—" you paused. You squeezed your eyes shut and inhaled a deep breath. "I don't have friends."

He blinked slowly. "You don't have friends? What of the one girl you were with the other day? Milla?"

"I do not have friends," you repeated. "I have... acquaintances. People I do not get attached to."

"That is sad."

"What?"

He raised an eyebrow. It seemed like a commonality when he spoke with you. The staple eyebrow raise had to happen or else he wasn't really chatting with you.

"It is sad. Why wouldn't you want to get attached to people?"

"I don't want to have meaningless relationships," you said. You avoided saying, I don't want to have relationships at all. "Not everyone can be as friendly as you, Fiyero."

He rolled his eyes. "Friendly. Yes. I talk to people, but I would rather not have all the attention that I do."

"Oh, that's rich," you said, scoffing. "You play the popular little prince and then claim you do not want it? What is that, Fiyero?"

Fiyero pursed his lips. "It is just—this is not a conversation about me. I wanted to have an intervention for you since you seemed as though you were avoiding me every which way. Now. Just—"

"—an intervention? What? Please. You sound ridiculous."

"So do you!" he returned, hands to his hips like an older man scolding a child for something they broke. "You vex me, Y/n! You act as if you are interested in me, then run away hiding like a scared little pup. You act as if you are afraid to get close to anyone."

You stared at him, lips parted ever-so-slightly. But it was enough. You were done for.

He let out a curt laugh. "You are."

"What?"

"You are. Scared. I can see it in you. You listen to what I have to say, even when the others don't. I've made an effort to pay attention to you. To see what you—"

"—Fiyero, stop."

"Do not tell me to stop, Y/n," he said, voice low with conviction. "Not now. Not when I've finally figured you out. You are scared. But of what? Being close to someone? Having a friend?"

You frowned. "I am not scared—"

"—you look at me like if I were to touch you, you'd melt."

"That doesn't mean anything!"

"I can see it in your eyes, Y/n," he said, not looking away. He held eye contact with you and hoped that you would continue to do the same. "You—you're scared. To open your heart to the people around you."

You frowned, again. It was perpetual anymore. "And you're a sad man who dances and pretends everything is fine because Galinda said you looked pretty one day."

He blinked slowly, a smile quirking on his lips. "Maybe. But this—this isn't about me, Y/n. This is about you."

"What even is this? I didn't agree to have you psychoanalyze everything I've ever done."

"Neither did I, yet here we are," he said. "I've had a lot of time to think, to mull it over, and I know it. I know it now. You are scared. I don't know what happened to you. I don't know who hurt you in your past, or if something tragic happened to make you so cold inside, but there is absolutely nothing wrong with being... with being vulnerable, Y/n. There's something... magical, even, about opening up to others."

"Oh, and you would know, wouldn't you?"

He frowned. "Y/n—"

"—no. Absolutely not. You do not get to sit there and ridicule me for not wanting to be close to people and then not take what I give you," you said. "You do not let anyone close to you. Sure, Galinda, but what does she know about you? Does she know how you half-ass everything? How you hardly even talk to your 'friends' and just let them float along with you like everything is fine and dandy? You're as sad as I am, if that's what you're trying to say. Don't try to fool yourself."

"I am not trying to fool myself," he softly said. "I am only trying to make it known that I see you. I see myself in you."

"Oh, that's rich," you said, scoffing. "The rich, popular boy sees himself in little ol' me. That's perfect."

"Y/n—"

"—no. Don't. Stop. Just. I don't want to talk to you anymore. We're not friends. We never were friends. Just leave me alone."

It's simple, but it shuts him down. And with that, you run from his side, rushing to hide away in your dorm.

You couldn't believe what you did. Blowing up at him instead of listening to what he had to say. He read you like the children's book your heart truly was—while everyone else focused on the words, he focused on the pictures. The minute details that seemed to pass by everyone's mind because the story was flowing far too quickly.

He saw the delicate brush strokes, the intricate colors, the pieces of you that the words did not show.

He knew you.

And it scared you.

Only you knew yourself. If anyone else were to know who you were, deep inside, well, that would be disastrous.

It couldn't happen.

You couldn't let it.

Fear.

Perhaps fear was the best way to describe the way you felt.

You sat by the edge of the lake in the forest just beyond Shiz's campus, fingers gently brushing against the water. The surface rippled, sending small waves to the end of the shore.

You were afraid.

Of what?

Of a man knowing you?

Of Fiyero knowing you better than even your family once knew you?

You sat there, thoughts racing through your mind. It was as if you couldn't avoid them anymore.

Days had passed since you blew up at Fiyero and ran. You couldn't avoid him forever, you knew that, but it seemed as if your thoughts believed the same.

Tears pricked at your eyes. The warm, salty tears began to fall before you could even try to stop them, and a soft sob bubbled at the back of your throat.

"Y/n?"

Shit.

You quickly wiped your tears away and looked back at him—at Fiyero. But your tears wouldn't stop. A soft sob rippled through you and you turned your head away.

Fiyero came to your side, kneeling down in the soft earth beside of you. He inwardly grimaced at the dirt, but he said nothing of it. He'd bathe in mud if it meant you would stop your tears.

He reached forward, gently placing a hand to your cheek. He turned your head to face him.

"Y/n," he softly said. "It's alright. You... you're alright."

Another sob.

He pulled you into his arms, and you let him. You didn't pull away, melting into his embrace as he said you would before. He pressed his chin to the top of your head, situating himself so he would be more comfortable near you.

He softly hummed a soft tune—you remembered it. The one thing he hummed quite often when you caught him alone, or trying to focus on his school work.

Dancing through life, skimming the surface... Life's more painless for the brainless.

He was just a sad boy with needs of his own, much like you were scared of being seen. Of being known.

Of being loved.

Oh. Oh, that's what it was.

It terrified you to no end.

Fiyero pressed a soft kiss to the top of your forehead, gently cupping your cheeks in his hands.

"What's got you so upset, love?" he softly asked, wiping your tears away gently with his thumbs.

You shook your head. "I... later," you mumbled. You leaned into his grasp, and you could have sworn you saw his eyes soften.

He released a soft, shaky sigh of his own, before he pulled you back into his arms. He'd hold you until the end of the world if that's what you needed him to do.

Being vulnerable—it was the one thing you had told yourself you would never do. Ever again. And here you were, letting this man hold you and practically lull you into a calmness you'd never felt before.

Is this what it felt like? To be... weak? To be... frail?

No.

Vulnerability... it didn't mean that.

It meant that you were... open. That you had managed to open your heart to a more... malleable form.

To be changed.

To find the one thing in life that you knew would keep you going for as long as it could.

To be vulnerable meant to be loved.

[samgirl98]

Biblically Accurate Boyfriend

Written for @silverblueglitter, I hope this is what you were looking for!

Something was going on with Jason. He was happier.

Now, usually, this would be good news, but the family had no idea what had caused such a drastic change in what seemed overnight. From what they could tell, Jason hadn’t had a pit episode in weeks and was voluntarily around the family without getting angry at them. Jason was cooking and bringing side dishes to family dinners. Just that day, he had let Dick hug him and didn’t try to punch his older brother! He doubted it was the few college courses Jason decided to take. No way school would make anyone that happy. Even a nerd like Jason.

It scared them a little. After all, when would the other shoe drop?

After the third week in a row that Jason had shown up for Sunday family dinner, Dick decided he had to ask, screw the consequences.

“So, Jason, what brought about this change?”

Dick tensed, prepared to have his head ripped off (he hoped metaphorically). The opposite happened. Jason laughed. Laughed!

“I have a boyfriend,” he said cheerfully, taking a bite of the pie he brought, “He’s my Angel. He’s so awesome!”

Before Dick could prompt Jason even more with questions, his younger brother continued to talk excitedly about ‘Angel.’

“I met Angel as Red Hood while a cult had kidnapped him. They were trying to summon some death deity right there in the middle of Crime Alley, the fucking idiots. I stopped them, obviously, but let me tell you, instead of being scared or angry, he was joking around and sassing the cult leader. It was so funny! Anyway, after I rescued him, he looked familiar, and I remembered why. He was in one of my Gen Ed courses.”

Bruce filed away the cult leader tidbit, not wanting to stop his son from giving out more information. He hated magic, and a cult had been trying to summon something. He’d have to investigate. If only his second oldest wrote mission reports but refused to do so, leaving Bruce in the dark about what Jason faced in Crime Alley. Bruce made a mental note and tuned back in to what Jason was saying about his boyfriend.

“The next time I saw him, I wanted to make sure he was fine and that the shock hadn’t worn off. You know, he’s not from Gotham, so I imagined he wasn’t used to rogue attacks.”

Everyone nodded but said nothing. They didn’t want to risk Jason shutting up, especially since he was volunteering information without prompting.

“To my surprise, he was chipper and didn’t seem traumatized about what happened. Hell, when I introduced myself to him as Jason, he joked how he was a native Gothamite now because he had been kidnapped.”

“Anyway, one thing led to another, and then we were friends. A few days later, he asked me for a date at a library. My God, that thing was so well-stocked! It even had books that I had never heard or seen. There were first-edition books and books that famous authors hadn’t published to the public. I didn’t even know such a library could exist. It was awesome,” he finished dreamily. There were stars in his eyes.

Dick smiled softly at his brother’s happiness.

“So, does this Angel have a last name,” Tim asked.

Jason glared at Tim, making everyone at the table tense.

“Don’t you dare! Angel doesn’t need a bunch of paranoid vigilante detectives looking into him. Angel isn’t even his real name, and until I feel I can trust you guys not to chase him away, I’m not giving any personal information or bringing him around.”

“That’s fine, Little Wing, just as long as you feel safe and happy,” Dick quickly intervened when he saw Bruce open his mouth to say something. Dick glared at their father and subtly shook his head at him. He knew how Bruce was, and Dick didn’t want Bruce’s paranoia ruining things with Jason.

Bruce frowned but took Dick’s silent advice. Jason glared at them the whole time.

“I’m glad, Jay lad. When you feel comfortable, bring him around. I, we, would love to meet him.”

“Yes, I would love to see who this Angel is and what is wrong with him. Who would like to date Todd purposely?”

Jason turned his glare at his younger brother, but it lacked malice. “Watch it, Demon Brat.”

“Tt, imbecile.”

And so, life continued.

Jason mellowed out more and more while still visiting and talking to the family without any angry barbs. He worked more with them as Red Hood and was less violent with most criminals. Jason would go to the cave after missions to get checked over and eat some of Alfred’s snacks without complaint. He joked around with them and trained. He even let the family enter his territory in Crime Alley in costume.

Still, everyone in the family was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Jason still hadn’t introduced them to Angel, even though it had been three months since they found out, and it was driving Bruce and Tim insane. They only knew that Angel was obsessed with space and studying to be an astrophysicist. Oh, and apparently, he had access to an incredible library.

Dick didn’t know how much longer he could hold them back from investigating every one of Jason’s classmates.

“Jason can take care of himself, Bruce. Let him come to us, and don’t fuck this up for him.”

“But,” he started.

“No ‘buts’. Trust your son.”

“Fine,” he turned around and returned to typing in the Batcomputer. Bruce was brooding. Hmm, Dick would have to talk to Alfred to get help.

One night, while it was a quiet night at patrol, Jason was telling Dick a story about Angel.

“You should’ve seen how angry he was! All this because he argued with the professor that Pluto should be a planet. He was so passionate that he even called the people who had decided to take Pluto out as ‘an insult to the ones who study the sky.’ Speaking of, did you know that the ones who decided were the International Astronomical Union? And honestly, with how Angel describes them, I’m more inclined to believe they are idiots.”

Dick smiled at his brother’s obvious happiness, “Is that so? I’m so happy for you, Hood. Speaking of, when do we get to meet him? I don’t know how long I can keep Tim and Bruce off your back.”

Jason sighed.

“Yeah, I guess it’s time, isn’t it? I already prepared Angel as much as I could about our crazy family. I just wanted to keep him for myself a while longer, I guess.”

Silence reigned for a while.

“I’ll take him on our next Sunday dinner if he says yes.”

Dick smiled, “I’ll let Bruce and the family know so you don’t have to.”

“Thanks.”

Of course, that’s when the other shoe dropped. The night before they were supposed to meet Angel, a supernatural force had invaded Gotham. It was an all-hands-on-deck situation. Batman had even contacted the Justice League and tried communicating with John Constantine. Nightwing had called in a favor to both Zatanna and Raven. Even Red Hood seemed to be trying to get a hold of someone.

“Sorry, Bats,” Constantine’s voice came through the coms. “Whatever you’re fighting is causing a magical force field around Gotham. Zatanna and I are trying to break through it, but it’s slow going. Raven is keeping the lesser demons it’s summoning off our backs while we try to break through. It might take us at least fifteen.”

“Hn, just get here as soon as you can.”

Batman threw a few batarangs made of nth metal at the giant mass of shadows, and Superman used his laser eyes. Wonder Woman threw her lasso around one of the creature’s arms, and Green Lantern used a net construct. It didn’t even slow it down.

The Martian Manhunter used a psychic attack to finally slow the creature down. Nightwing was finally able to catch his breath. He looked around them and saw the destruction the creature had left in its wake.

Thankfully, Red Robin and Robin were taking care of crowd control, so no civilians were left in harm’s way.

Suddenly, the creature got angry at Batman and swept its arms, sending Batman flying. Thankfully, Superman caught him before he hit the wall, but Nightwing still flinched. That had to have hurt. Out of nowhere, Red Hood came at the creature with flaming swords.

Where had he even gotten them?

Nightwing watched as Jason’s swords cleaved through the creature’s shadowy arm. The limb fell to the floor before disappearing. Just as Nightwing was about to celebrate, the thing grew the arm again.

Fuck.

The fight continued, and they were getting desperate. Jason was the only one who could even slightly damage the creature, and he was tiring. Constantine and Zatanna were still, more or less, ten minutes away. Superman and Wonder Woman were slowing the creature down, but even they were flagging. Martian Manhunter was out for the count after the creature used its psychic attack to bring him down.

They were so fucked.

Suddenly, the air got frigid, and there was a heavy pressure. The hair on Nightwing’s body stood up. Superman looked around while Wonder Woman tensed even more. Even the creature paused.

What showed up next made Dick want to scratch his eyes out. He couldn’t even describe it. All he saw were hundreds of eyes with eight ice-blue wings. The shadow creature yelled out in fear before being evaporated. Fuck, fuck, fuck! How would they defeat the eldritch abomination if it could take out the shadow creature without effort? Hell, Dick could even look straight at it. He was keeping watch with the peripheral of his vision, and he was sure so was everyone else.

“DON’T BE AFRAID! I WAS CALLED TO BE OF HELP.”

Called? For Help? Were Constantine and Zatanna here? Was this creature their doing?

Dick looked around but didn’t see either of them.

“Angel,” a familiar voice yelled out. Jason was climbing over debris while looking right at the creature. Dick felt his heart sink to the pit of his stomach. Around him, he saw his family having the same realization as him. Dick felt like fainting. This was Angel. This biblically accurate creature was Jason’s boyfriend.

“Did—did your heart just skip in fear?” Superman asked Batman, incredulous. He looked at every member of their family and said, “All of your hearts…what is going on here?”

Dick was about to ask Jason the same question when the creature started to shapeshift. It was getting smaller and smaller until, finally, a fae-like creature with blue skin and white hair stood in its place. It had on a cheeky smile.

It flew over to Jason, and then there was a flash of light. In the fae’s creature place was a regular guy with black hair and blue eyes. He was scrawny and had on a red t-shirt with jeans. He was in Jason’s arms.

Jason turned to look at them.

“Guys, this isn’t how I wanted to do it, but this is my boyfriend.”

He turned away from his boyfriend to see that his dad, the Batman, was on the floor. He had fainted. The Justice League was trying to bring Batman to, while Constantine and Zatanna looked at Jason as if he was crazy. Raven was looking at Dick, trying to get directions from him.

“What the hell is that?” Constantine asked, calling magic to his hands. Even Zatanna was on guard. Raven sighed. This isn’t what she was called for.

Batman suddenly came back to and scowled at Jason.

“Hood, you have some explaining to do.”

Jason sighed, seeming put out. Dick started laughing hysterically. His baby brother was put out because they were concerned about the interdimensional eldritch being.

“See, this why I didn’t want you to meet them yet, Angel. They’re annoying for no good reason.

“It’s all cool. Are we still up for dinner tonight?”

“Yep,” the Angel kissed Jason on the cheek and disappeared. Oh, Dick was going to faint, too. How nice, he thought as everything went black.

Dc x Dp prompt #1: Angel

I'd like to preface this by saying I'm incorporating tropes I've seen in other posts.

~~~

Jason has been a lot happier recently. His Pit Rage has been getting less and less frequent, he's cooking and coming over to the manor a lot more, and he even let Dick hug him last week without threatening bodily harm!

The rest of the batfam, while happy for him, are curious about the change. So one night at dinner they ask him what's up with him and why he's so happy recently. Surprisingly, instead of taking it the wrong way and getting mad Jason is eager to share.

Apparently, Jason has a boyfriend now. Yay!

He goes on and on about this civilian he met after stoping a cult who was trying to summon a deity and how he is this nerdy college kid who really likes space and how their civilian identies shared the same Gen Ed course so he made an effort to become friends. Turns out that nerdy space guy had caused the initial improvement in mood and his offer to go on a date to an incredibly diverse and well-stocked library had been the cherry on top.

The only thing is that Jason didn't want them stalking the guy and refered to him around the family exclusively as "Angel". Everyone thinks that's just a cute pet name he gave the guy as a way to both reference and distract the civilian from the cult ritual he was probably rescued from. Little do they know that it's actually because "Angel" was not a victim of the cult ritual but the summonee, that appeared in the form of a biblically accurate angel.

One day some supernatural entity decideds to attack Gotham and everyone is calling whoever they can think of for back-up. Batman calls Constantine, Nightwing calls Zatana, Red Robin and Robin are contacting the Justice League, and even Red Hood seems to call someone.

The situation is getting desperate. The JL is here but at most the can just slow the supernatural being down. Constantine and Zatana are still 20 minutes out and things are looking bad when another Eldritch Being spawns and seems to take down the threat in one move.

Everyone stands stunned as the being turns to them and in a booming voice exclaims "DON'T BE AFRAID. I WAS CALLED TO HELP". They all go through several emotions upon hearing those words. Where did this being come from? Is this a biblically accurate angel? Who called it here to help? Was it Zatana or maybe Constantine? Are they here yet? Upon looking around it is found that Zatana and Constantine are not here yet and the heroes get ready to engage this being carefully when a voice calls out

"Angel!"

Everyone whips their heads around to see Jason climbing over debris towards the Eldritch Being in front of them. The Batfam feels faint with a creeping realization and Superman swears he heard Batman's heart skip a beat for a second. Before anyone can ask Jason what he's doing the being shapeshifts into the much smaller form of a young fae-like creature with pointed ears, fangs, stark white hair, and vibrant green eyes floating in the air. He flys over to Jason before a flash of bright light leaves a young man deep black hair and frosty blue eyes in Jason's arms.

Jason turns to introduce his boyfriend to his family and the League only to find that Batman has fainted, a panicking JL, and a gobsmacked Zatana and Constantine have who've arrived in time to see the transformation. As Zatana and Constantine begin to freak out and prepare defensive magic Batman comes to and levels a scowl at Jason.

"Hood, I think you have some explaining to do."

[naughtyjjk]

jjk men on the last day of no nut november

characters: nanami, geto, gojo, toji | fem x reader warnings: 18+, smut, dry humping, orgasm denial, tease, masturbation, dildo, creampie noo!! i meant to post this yesterday on nov 30 but i was really busy. anyway, here it is now. the scenario is: somehow, you and the jjk men have made it to the end of NNN. here's what happens just minutes before dec 1.

NANAMI...

he wants to complete this challenge fair and square. which means that it's 11:40 pm, twenty minutes before november ends, and he won't even let you touch him. he knows exactly how sensitive he is right now, how being deprived of sex this past month has affected him both mentally and physically. if he gives in even a little bit now, he won't be able to stop himself.

and he's so close to winning. only a few minutes away before it's december.

when you try to reach out to him for the fifth time tonight, nanami growls and grabs you by the wrist, pinning your arms above your head on the bed. he leans in to whisper by your ear, "no cheating."

the words make you shudder, only turning you on more as you feel his hot breath next to you. his voice is low and strained; he's holding himself back, too. somehow, that makes this whole situation even hotter.

you've both stripped down to only your undergarments: bra and panties for you, and boxers for nanami. this is the farthest he would let you go. if you took the next step, if you were completely naked, nanami is sure that he wouldn't be able to control himself.

"come on," you beg him. "it's almost time, anyway. we can—"

"no." nanami stands firm. "you wanted this, so we're going to do it properly."

groaning, you think about how it's so unfair. sure, you did suggest this challenge, but you didn't realize just how difficult it would be to avoid having sex for an entire month, how much hornier it would make you to have this restriction.

and it's not like nanami is unaffected, either. you see the way he's looking at you while his body hovers over yours, eyes wandering to where your bra cups your breasts, the smooth skin of your stomach. he wants it too, as badly as you do.

his boxers are tight, making his erection painfully obvious. it stretches against the fabric, wanting to break free from its confines, but nanami makes no move to pull out his cock.

he needs something, though—some stimulation even if it's not direct contact. through your clothes, nanami begins to grind against you, pushing your knees apart and dry humping you on the bed with quick rolls of his hips.

you moan brokenly when you feel his hard cock between your legs, pressed against your wet panties. even this is too much. he rocks back and forth, almost like he's already lost control of himself, rutting shamelessly into you.

you feel dizzy with arousal. you could come like this, if he keeps it up, especially with the way the tip of his cock is brushing past your clit, fuck, he's really going to make you come.

"ken—kento—o-oh my god—"

nanami's hips stutter as his rhythm falters, the pleasure building up for him, and he's almost there as well. his cock pulses in warning, brushing past your clit, a thin layer of clothing separating the two of you.

then—he stops suddenly, too soon, seconds before you're about to come. seconds before he's about to come, too. it leaves both of you right on the edge, denied of your orgasms, so fucking close to that sweet release, but unable to reach it.

"hah—hah—sh-shit—" nanami groans, voice low and raspy. he's still thrusting his hips a little, unable to resist his body's instinct, but never touching you again.

your pussy throbs. you're so wet and horny, panties all ruined, trying to pull him closer. "p-please, just—fuck me," you beg him. you need it so bad. "fuck me already—"

nanami's arms are tense as he holds himself up above you, pulling his hips away from yours. he's breathing hard, panting. his cock leaks precum, soaking his boxers and making a damp spot where the tip is. you can see him twitching, the fabric shifting with every movement of his cock.

fuck, you know that he's going to absolutely wreck you once midnight comes. you know he's been just dying to get his hard, aching cock inside you; to come as he moans in your ear and release a month's worth of pent-up sperm.

but for now, he only looks at the clock, clenches his jaw, and says, "ten more minutes."

.

GETO...

the two of you are sitting on opposite sides of the room, far enough that you can't act on the temptation of touching each other. but that doesn't stop either of you from touching yourselves.

"this is—fuck, this is a very dangerous game, angel..." suguru's eyes are dark and hungry, he drinks in the sight of you, naked, as your hands roam all over your own body.

you start with your breasts, massaging and squeezing them in your palms, circling around the sensitive nipples but not touching directly yet. getting yourself more and more aroused, body arching forward as you whine for more contact.

across from you, suguru is growing harder and harder by the second. his cock twitches and slowly fills out as he watches you tease yourself until it's standing proud, tall and stiff between his legs.

seeing it now, fully hard, is enough to turn you on, your pussy reacting to his arousal. you pinch your nipples between two fingers, gasping at the tingle of pleasure it sends throughout your body. "mm, suguru... your cock..."

he's touching himself too, holding his cock in a loose grip and stroking, masturbating along with you. he groans when your hands travel down your stomach, along your inner thighs, spreading your legs apart wide to expose your pussy.

"j-just imagine," you say, conjuring up the fantasy in your own mind as well. you use two fingers to circle your clit, unable to resist any longer, and moan at the feeling. "imagine your hard, aching cock sinking into my wet pussy. think about—ngh, fuck—my pussy clenching around you as you fill me up, stuffing me full with your cock. it'd feel so fucking good."

suguru is no doubt fantasizing about it too. his cock twitches, leaking more precum as he continues to pump himself. "fuck, you're such a naughty girl. once i get my hands on you—hah—i'll rub my cock against that pretty pussy of yours, let you feel how hard i am as i tease you until you're begging me to put it in."

whimpering, you feel yourself throb, getting wetter from his dirty words. "please—my pussy is ready for you, suguru." you spread your pussy lips apart, giving him a full view of your dripping cunt. "w-want you inside me already."

suguru groans in frustration, knowing that he can't have you yet. "god, me too. i wanna fuck you so bad."

it's too much; you need to feel something more, anything. reaching for the drawer next to you, you bring out one of your toys—if you can't have suguru yet, this will have to do for now.

"this could be your cock," you say, as you hold out a six-inch dildo and bring it to your lips. it's modelled to look like a real cock with thick veins along the sides. you kiss the tip of it, then trail down the shaft. "mm, you taste so good, suguru."

you lick the toy all over, flicking your tongue just under the crown. suguru inhales sharply, gaze darkening at the sight of you giving the dildo a blowjob. everything you do to it goes straight to his cock, as if he's feeling your mouth on him too.

swirling your tongue around the cockhead, you begin to part your lips, taking the dildo inch by inch into your mouth until the tip of it hits the back of your throat. then, you move—bobbing your head up and down, sucking on the toy while looking straight at suguru.

"f-fuck, yeah, take it." you hear suguru moan brokenly as he jerks himself off faster and faster, hips bucking upward into his fist. he looks so wrecked, chest heaving, his cock painfully hard and flushed a dark red. "take all of it—"

you moan around the toy, wishing that you had his cock in your mouth instead, wishing that you could feel his hardness and taste his precum; feel how he throbs from your actions, head thrown back when you swallow him down all the way.

after a while, you pull the dildo out of your mouth. suguru is squeezing the base of his cock, panting, too close to coming. he twitches once, twice, like he could burst at any minute.

you line up the dildo between your legs and rub it against your pussy, letting the cockhead brush past your entrance again and again. teasing yourself to feel the burning desire inside you grow even stronger. "s-suguru, i need you—need your cock—"

"christ, angel," suguru curses. his hand is moving again, stroking himself, unable to resist. you're both so turned on, so fucking horny that it feels unbearable. "fuck yourself with it. come on, show me what you really want."

at his command, you push the toy inside, crying out as it spreads you open and fills you up. you squirm on the spot as it bottoms out, hips circling around it to adjust to the sensation.

when you start to pull it back out, you moan, feeling it drag and drag and drag along your walls. you imagine that it's suguru there instead of the dildo—his hot, throbbing cock penetrating you repeatedly.

you tilt the toy a bit, aiming upward, and the effect is instantaneous: pleasure bursts all throughout your body as it stimulates your g-spot, thighs trembling from how fucking good it feels. "o-oh my god—suguru—"

and it's addicting; you can't stop aiming there now that you've found the spot. you get closer and closer with every thrust, orgasm building up at an alarming speed.

"t-take it out," suguru rasps. "you're only allowed to come from my cock."

fuck. your pussy throbs in protest as you reluctantly pull the dildo out, instantly feeling how empty it leaves you. suguru is still stroking himself, much more desperate now, his thick cock disappearing and reappearing into his own fist, slick and wet with precum.

you want him so fucking bad.

only five more minutes to go. the longest five minutes of your life.

.

GOJO...

he's not exactly fucking you yet, but what he is doing is sliding his rock hard cock up and down your pussy, rutting against you like he's been deprived of any contact. which is true—he's been deprived for a whole month. a whole month! god, he's so damn horny he can hardly think straight. he has no idea how he managed to hold off for this long.

but that's why, with only a few minutes before no nut november is over, he lets loose a little. the anticipation has been absolutely killing him; he's going to come harder than he ever has before. and he can't deny himself any longer, not when you're right there, lying on the bed and tempting him with your body.

"i can't—i can't stop my hips," satoru grunts, grinding against you faster and faster. he's losing control entirely, almost animalistic in the way he's moving on pure instinct, chasing after nothing but pleasure. "oh—oh fuck, baby, i need—"

every time his hard, throbbing cock brushes past your clit, you cry out, bucking up into him. you're just as far gone; a month without sex has made you so fucking desperate for it. "ah—! s-satoru, please—"

how is it still not midnight yet? how much longer do both of you have to endure this? shit, you don't know how much more you can take. a few minutes ago, you set an alarm to ring as soon as november ends, but it feels like hours and it still hasn't gone off.

and then—satoru's cock catches on your pussy, slides into you a little, no more than an inch. no more than just the tip. but it makes both of you gasp and moan—moan so loud that you're sure the neighbours could hear you. but you don't care.

satoru quickly pulls out before either of you get too close, his cock resting on your pussy now. you can feel him hot and throbbing, about to burst at any moment. your pussy throbs, too, both of you pulsing against each other, begging to feel it again.

but no matter what, you can't come yet. fuck. fuck.

still, you buck up helplessly and say, "a-again. do it again. please."

not even a second later, satoru has his cock lined up by your entrance, panting as he forces himself to go slow. his cockhead sinks into you and you clamp down on him, refusing to let him go. your back arches, moans falling from your lips as his cock stretches you open.

satoru pulls out, then pushes in again. out, in. out, in. over and over—the shallowest, most torturous thrusts you've ever experienced. but it's all you can take now, both of you dangerously close to the edge for anything more. if he thrusts into you all the way, the full length of his hard cock filling you up, you'd come for sure. just the thought of satoru fucking you properly, fucking you deep, gets you so aroused that it makes you dizzy.

"feels—hah—feels too good," satoru grunts, picking up the pace. he's losing himself to the pleasure again, hips moving uncontrollably. "ngh, shit, too fucking good. i can't—i'm not going to last—f-fuck—"

BRIIING! the alarm goes off.

you both pause, looking at each other. it's 12:00 am exactly. december 1st.

satoru snaps. without warning, without any more delays, he plunges his cock into you, bottoming out deep inside you. the two of you moan at the same time, and then he's fucking you, pounding his cock with urgency and desperation and a month's worth of being denied.

there's no time to catch your breath. you can feel satoru's cock hitting you fast and deep, filling you up, throbbing hot against your walls. he's panting into the crook of your neck, sucking on the smooth skin there. both hands flick at your nipples, playing with the hardened nubs, applying just enough pressure to make you arch into his touch. it's all overwhelming; you feel pleasure throughout your whole body, orgasm approaching fast.

when you clench around satoru with his hard cock buried deep inside you, his pace falters. he chokes out a moan and it sounds so wrecked, so arousing. you moan, too. you're both so fucking close.

"coming, coming, c-coming—"

.

TOJI...

throughout the month, as the days went by, toji has become more and more cranky. it's obvious that the challenge is really getting to him, putting him in a bad mood no matter what he's doing, and he's never abstained from sex for this long before. never been sexually frustrated to this degree.

there's so much tension between the two of you, and it's only a matter of time before someone snaps.

about a week in, toji starts to work out a lot more, mostly as a distraction. even at home, he's constantly doing different exercises—push ups, sit ups, planks, bicep curls, squats. not that you're complaining, of course. it gives you the opportunity to see him shirtless, to see his toned body glistening with sweat after every session.

as a distraction, though, it doesn't always work. he comes up to you after, pins you against the wall, and says, "i can't fucking stand this anymore. i need to get laid." his voice is strained. the shorts that he wore for the workout does nothing to hide his raging erection. "i need to fuck you."

it's not easy to resist him in that situation at all. his lips are hovering right next to yours, and you have to hold back from reaching out and touching his abs, pressing your hips together until you're grinding into each other like you so desperately want.

still, despite all that, you reply, "no."

and he stomps away, slamming every door in the hall, cursing. you take a moment to yourself too; it's not like you're immune to this, either. your pussy throbs with need, dripping wetness onto your panties. if you had been any weaker, you would've given in right there without a doubt.

when the last day finally arrives, november 30, toji doesn't give a shit about the technicalities anymore; whether it's 11:00 pm, or 11:30 pm, or 11:59 pm, it's all the same to him. he's done with this stupid challenge, tortured himself enough by holding back all month (for what, he doesn't even know; it doesn't feel like he gained anything from it), so he deserves this now.

toji has you bent over the nearest surface, cock already buried in your pussy, grinding into you filthily like he's trying to make both of you come as fast as possible. the abstinence really got to him, delirious with only a single goal in mind: to get the release he's been denied of for so damn long. a whole fucking month's worth of come just waiting to be released from his balls.

they feel so hot and heavy, weighted down by how much has accumulated since the start of november. and his cock—fuck, he's never been this hard is his life. it has a mind of its own, so horny and desperate, standing rigid between his legs and weeping with endless amounts of precum that spill out from the tip.

"t-toji, wait," you try to tell him. "it's not—ah—it's not time yet."

"what's the problem?" he asks, not stopping at all. "all you have to do is make sure that you don't come until midnight. there's no rule saying that i can't fuck you before then."

and... he's right, technically, but how the hell does he expect you to hold back when he's pounding into you so fast and rough? it's like he's fully given in to his primitive instincts, fucking you like a wild animal, hips snapping into you over and over.

"i can't—" you gasp as toji's hands reach around to grab your breasts, squeezing them, flicking your nipples. "feels—feels too good—"

"yeah?" toji asks, panting. "doesn't sound like a problem to me. means i'm fucking you real good."

you can't argue with that. moaning, you try to fight against the pleasure, but it's a losing battle. "w-wait, toji—ah—i'm close—"

"come," he tells you, voice low and sultry and so fucking hot. "just let go if you want it so bad. c'mon, be a good girl and come for me now."

a shudder runs through your body as a fresh wave of arousal hits you. fuck. you're trying your best to hold back, you really are, but it's impossible when toji is whispering right next to your ear, his warm breath on your skin as he repeats the word over and over again: come, come, come.

the assault is constant: toji's hips slamming against yours, his hard cock going deeper and deeper with every thrust, brushing against your g-spot. it's overwhelming when one hand slides down to find your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub with his skilled fingers. you arch into his touch, moaning brokenly, unable to escape the pleasure. your body betrays you as you feel yourself tipping over the edge,

"fuck," toji groans and it's clear that he's at his limit too, thrusts growing erratic now. "gonna come—"

the feeling of him pulsing and pulsing, spilling everything inside you, is what makes you come in the end. it's so much, weeks of stored up come spurting out from his hard cock, finally getting the release that he so badly needed. you clench around him as he rolls his hips, milking every last drop, the two of you riding out your orgasms together.

toji pulls out and his cock gives one last twitch at the sight of you stuffed full of his come, white and sticky as it drips out of your pussy. you're both still breathing hard, all the tension gone from your body.

god, you've never come so hard in your life. abstaining from sex for a month only made it that much more worth it in the end.

turning your head, you glance at the clock. 12:00 am. it's by pure luck that you came exactly at midnight, somehow managing to complete no nut november despite toji's ruthless teasing.

you vow to never do it again, though. not with toji. there's no way you could survive another year of NNN with him.

.

tag list: @megumisdivinedogs @urlilwhore @l0rdgeosupport3rr @purple-obsidian @l0rdgeosupport3rr @minni-creations @fos-tis-zois @the-reas0n-is-y0u @cantfeelherface @rxmbzzz @lysaray @zelzablues @str4wbrrycandy @that-goth-bisexual @simping4u @iminlovewqr0w @sharks31 @pseudowho @jisoonunn @outkasti @anathemaspeaks @fushigur0slut4 @barryatsumu @d0nk3y-k0ng @shasaaa15 @wil10wthetree @maskedpacific @genshingeeksworld @itsnotmelo

i'm going to cry tumblr is not letting me tag people so i'm sorry if it didn't work for you :( (comment to be added)

[hwajin]

☆°. — so good !! | hhj

genre: smut

pairing: hyunjin x gn!reader

wc: >2k

warnings: unprotected sex, new relationship, horny thoughts due to circumstances (hyunjins teaser), so not proofread and VERY rushed i'm not sorry

It was the temptation of it, the taunting tease. Giving you a taste and yet not giving you everything, not all at once; feeding you half a spoon after half a spoon, and you were left to lap it up. If you'd seen him entirely shirtless, if he'd tossed the nihil shirt over his head entirely, it wouldn't bear the same effect as it did seeing only the skin right above his waistband. Peeking out when he stretched. Greeting you when he fixed his hair. Mocking you when he turned and you flushed red, and when he found your eyes.

"You alright?"

He'd caught you. You knew that he he knew what you were thinking. He had seen your eyes, staring. Intently. Had he done it on purpose? Had he only acted oblivious to the effect he had on you; had he known of your wandering eyes and watering mouth all along? Maybe he'd even picked out the shirt on purpose; you had never seen him in anything so short, and you weren't yet brave enough to address it; what if it hadn't been on purpose, after all? You would have made a fool of yourself asking, initiating.

And you blushed under his gaze; it had been on purpose, after all. Hyunjin's smirk told you everything. He sat on your chair, by your table, brushes scattered on it, half finished sketches grazing his notebook. Most of them you, the other ones flowers. "Basically the same thing.", he had said, when you'd caught a glimpse of them. It had been barely three weeks into your relationship; only a couple of days ago now, and you still thought about that comment. Still grew hot at the thought of it. Still pressed your thighs together when you remembered what had happened afterwards; how he had laid you down in his bed, on his soft mattress, how he had asked for the greenlight every other minute. How he had whispered sweet everything's into your ear before he'd bit it, how he'd sighed out when he had inserted himself for the very first time; how you'd woken up together the next morning, shy and helpless, happy.

Every since then he had gotten more sly, more daring. You liked it; but you grew bashful under his gazes, under his smirks. And you were bashful now. No less because of the belly button which peeked beneath his top, distracted you so very rudely from answering him. And the worst thing; he noticed. And he stood up, top riding up, revealing the daint lines of his muscles, leading to his core, hidden beneath confines you so badly wanted off. Ever since he had walked into your room, ever since he had taken off his jacket; you wanted him like crazy, but you could only sit there and hope he contained the ability to read minds.

"What are you looking at, babe?" A raised eye brow as Hyunjin bent down to give you a peck on your forehead, before he plumped down on the bed next to you, making himself comfortable; laying back on his elbows, legs spread enough to hint suggestiveness. To make you want to touch him; starting at the bare lower stomach, and let your hand wander further down. Down and down until he gasped, or sighed; you loved it all, missed it. A sense of pride coursed through you whenever you heard his huffs of air in your ear, whenever he lost himself.

"Nothing.", you whispered. But you bit your lip, and felt your face get hot; and he knew you lied. Had known anyways, but smirked at you now. Laughed then, when you only reddened deeper, when you furrowed your brows, not in confusion but something like embarrassment. When you hissed in a breath the moment he sat up a bit on his elbows, turned to his side to face you. You sat beside him still, not moving; a statue of desire and the inability to do anything against it.

His hand suddenly found itself on your thigh; one finger, then two riding up, before his whole palm feathered on your skin, up and down, closer and closer to your core with every up. You looked at it, then found his eyes. You could still see the bit of skin beneath his shirt; creasing now in his position, skin creating textures you wanted to study, wanted to paint if you had the ability, wanted to kiss until your lips turned numb. The heat through your body was burning you alive; if Hyunjin didn't do anything shortly, you'd have to take matters into your own hands. You'd have to bent down and kiss him, so deep like never before. Deep enough to take him by surprise; you hadn't ever initiated before.

Maybe it was his goal. Maybe he waited on you to do something. Drove you to the edge on purpose to get a reaction out of you.

"Oh, yeah?" Voice taunting, like the hand on your thigh, the eyes holding yours. He was a different person like this; something devilish where sometimes angels sat, and you couldn't decide which side you preferred.

"You know, if you want something, you just have to ask."

Voice sultry, deep, lazy. Voice so piercing that it went right through you, and you let out a sound that sounded embarrassingly close to a moan; and Hyunjin threw his head back to laugh so very brightly you almost joined in with him.

"You're so cute, you know that?", he teased while leaning back again, laying down on his back now, flat, a palm of his by the small of your back. He caressed you there, softly, lovingly; a contrast to the provoking glint in his eyes. The shirt had ridden up with all his moving, and he didn't have the slightest intentions to fix it. He raised another brow.

"So?"

So he did expect a reaction. He wanted you to say the words, to make the first step. But he smirked when you took a deep breath, giggled when there wasn't a single word which made it past your lips. Only stuttering, only 'uhm's' and 'like's'. Some more embarrassing attempts at- at what exactly? Were you supposed to say, "Fucke me, please."? "You look so hot, let's have sex, please."? Who in the world said that? Did people say that to each other? How in the world did people initiate sex, even? How had Hyunjin done it the past few times? Had he even said anything, at all? He for sure hadn't made a fool of himself; you had the feeling you would, if only a single word made it past your lips.

So you breathed out, harshly, determined now.

"Fuck it."

You leaned over him and clashed your lips against his. Quickly, though it didn't surprise him, per se; you could feel him smile against your mouth. He liked it. He liked when you were needy, when you expressed how much he affected you, how much you wanted him. So you touched him. You let your fingers dance across his body, his face first, holding him so close your faces melted into one, palming, then, the mound of his chest. His own hands held you tight at your hips, or your waist, occasionally dipping to graze your bottom; almost shy at how quick he retrieved his hands again, and you sighed into his mouth at that.

You caressed the bare of his stomach, finally. Riding the shirt up a bit more, tracing the lines of his toned body while he shivered under your touch, tensed where your fingers met his skin. Hitched a breath when your hand hovered above his half erection. Moaned, then, loudly, when you palmed him. Louder when you squeezed. His fingers painted imprints on the skin of your hips when you bit his lip and slid your fingers beneath his waistband to graze his hardening erection skin to skin, and his hips jerked into your touch, craving more. Only then you backed away. He looked at you, eyes blown out and black, lips red so much you feared he bled. But he licked at them, quickly; and spoke your death sentence, then.

"You're so fucking sexy when you're like this."

In a second you straddled him. You stopped him when Hyunjin made hassles to remove his shirt; you wanted it on. You wanted to see only the little bit of skin, wanted the taunting, the teasing. Wanted him inside of you. His erection tickled at your heat, your wetness drowning it when you lined up the tip, when you sank down on him. You moaned in response to his sounds, his gasps of air and groanes of pleasure. You rolled your eyes back when his hips jerked against yours, when you felt his fingers digging into your flesh. You came against him in spasms, when you caught a glimpse of his tensed lower stomach, of the lines of muscles reaching to somewhere below his waistband, of his shut eyes and contorted face. And you shook when you felt him fill you up, when he came with deep whispers of your name, when he pulled you into him, into his arms, against his body. Your legs limp, your heart full. You smiled against the crook of his neck, a scent of honey and vanilla; and you kissed him there, long and deep, your fingers playing with the skin of his arms, his shoulders, his lower stomach; before he caged you in his hold, making you his, making him yours.

@es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @bintificreads-archived @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @junebug032 @noellllslut @wolfennracha @unexceptional-h @like-a-diamondinthesky @katsukis1wife @binniesbang @astraystayyh

[lovscb97]

— OPERATION: SIM'S GIRL (SJY)

◜ᯓᡣ𐭩 ⁎⁺ ⁺⁎ ᯓᡣ𐭩◝

pairing: sim jaeyun x fem!reader

status: ONGOING.

synopsis: jake's friends are constantly teasing him about his, so to speak, 'bitchless' nature, but what happens when he suddenly softlaunches a faceless girl on his social media? and why do you conveniently keep posting about seeing some guy at the same time?

featuring: rest of the members (enhypen), karina & ningning (aespa), hyunjin, jisung, felix & seungmin (stray kids), etc

tags: social media au, kinda strangers to lovers, IDIOTS to lovers, fluff, suggestive/sex jokes & comments, kys/kms jokes, chronically online language (yes that needs a tag), mention of other idols, stupidity for convenience (you'll understand when you read), kissing, etc

add. notes: this one's for u bbg @2jaykez & @heesimp smirk emoji but anywayz. first time posting a y/n smau kinda nervy ehehe... it'll be decently short so plz do not expect much i've only ever done skz memberxmember smaus so this will certainly be . an Experience. anyways i hope u guys enjoy :3

start: tbd. / end: tbd. / updates: tbd.

TAGLIST: OPEN!

. . .

— profiles:

jake's friend group / yn's friend group

— chapters:

#one: n/a.

#two: n/a.

#three: n/a.

#four: n/a.

#five: n/a.

more tba...

— epilogue/bonus:

#one: n/a.

#two: n/a.

. . .

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! <3

[swordandscytheandpen]

'Kay, not sure why you chose to respond to my zero-effort tags this morning rather than @official-kircheis's response two weeks ago, but here we are. I didn't flag that the last tag was jokey and intentionally over-the-top, so that's on me. In my defense though, you did: a) specifically request such behavior in the OP, and b) follow up that warranted mockery with a woefully bad argument, so I don't feel too bad about it.

Anyway. You've done this tidy little motte-and-bailey-esque rhetorical switcheroo where you're answering the claim "most religious people throughout history actually did literally believe in their own stated religion" with the overspecific counterargument "not true; there are certain early Christian theologians who believe that certain parts of the bible were allegorical." Which is incredibly narrow in scope. What about the other parts of the bible; did Origen also think God's very existence was figurative? What about non-theologians; did the average illiterate Roman Christian think of Sodom as a moralistic fable? What about other time periods; did Urban VIII display an allegorical view of Genesis when he condemned Galileo? What about other religions; is the reincarnation cycle typically taken as metaphor by Hindus? Or perhaps all the world's religions, by some strange coincidence, happen to have been struck by this same spate of literalism in modern times?

But we don't even need to go into all that, because even on your chosen grounds of early Christian theology, there's still a huge amount of literal belief to be seen. St. Augustine did not argue that Genesis as a whole was not literal, he made that argument regarding the six-day creation cycle specifically. When it comes to Adam and Eve, Eden, and the Fall of Man, though? Augustine repeatedly affirmed, across multiple writings, that while these stories had figurative implications they were also genuine historical fact. (City of God, Book 13, Chapter 21 is particularly explicit about this but it can be found all over the place.) You are mistaken about his beliefs.

I mention Augustine because you brought him up, but he isn't the only example here. Irenaeus and Tertullian were particularly serious offenders in this regard, but the best evidence can be seen in the kinds of theological debates and divides early Christianity saw. Were they arguments over what kind of lessons to draw from biblical stories? Perhaps esoteric debates on how to better cleave to Jesus's teachings? No. They were all shit like "is it correct to call Mary "God-bearer," or are we only allowed to call her "Christ-bearer" since Jesus's divinity didn't come from her?" Every council, every schism, dealt with what their attendees saw as historical matters of literal truth. Or, at the most, philosophy of the soul.

And they killed people over this! Under your concept of early Christianity, it would be a norm to riot over, exile, and even deploy military action against, what, people who cleave to a different allegorical interpretation? Of course they believed it was real.

The same applies to any other examples you might care to name. Oh, the Greeks thought Zeus was a character written by mortals? Well they spent a whole lot of time and effort raising statues and temples and offering animals to that metaphorical character, in an age where misspent time and resources easily meant death. Must've been super into the stories, I guess.

This isn't "arrogance." I know I'm not special. I know perfectly well that, had I been born in centuries past, I almost certainly would have believed these things as well. The median European peasant wasn't morally lesser for taking the local bishop's teachings as fact; they had little way of knowing better. But, through the immense growth in scientific methodology, education access, and communication, we have created a world far more well-equipped to disclaim religion. Purely allegorical religion was never the norm in past societies; the degree of it we see today is a massive anomaly on the historical scale. So, sure, maybe I'm not smarter than a Greek philosopher - but which one of us sacrifices goats in hopes of rain?

I don't think all the edgy atheists in the world could deliver an insult to religion as devastating as people who honestly hold the idea "of course nobody really believed this shit, look how utterly ridiculous it is!"

We need the obnoxious atheists back. I know they engineered their own destruction by being annoying and pretentious, but it has become apparent how essential to the ecosystem they were. The religious fanatics have become too bold without their natural predators. Jesus wojaks would have been torn to shreds in 2011.

[florestalio]

DAYDREAM — L.HS

GENRE: pwp. i would say more, but i wanna keep the plot (or lack thereof) a secret

SYNOPSIS: where heeseung gets the best head of his life... or does he?

WARNINGS: (1.6k words) 18+, oral (m! rec), hair pulling, throat fucking, throat bulging, cum eating, let me know if I missed any!

NOTE, daydream — "sip, sip, sip, make me empty". yep. that's it.

HEESEUNG LOOKED DOWN AT YOU WITH A SMIRK. God, you looked so fucking pretty right now, on your knees.

All for him.

His eyes raked over your pliant body shamelessly, licking his lips at the sight of one of the spaghetti straps of your cute white tank top having slid down your shoulder. Your tits were practically on display for him, since you chose not to wear a bra, your nipples having hardened, peaking through the thin material of your top. Your top was, to his perverse enjoyment, a low cut one, allowing him to see the top half of your tits.

Fuck, they were perfect. Just like the rest of you.

The way he was leaning back on the couch, his legs spread wide apart, one arm looped over the top of the couch, an extremely sexy smirk on his face — safe to say, he wasn't the only one turned on right now.

While he was sporting a rock hard boner, you yourself were rubbing your thighs together, your panties sticking uncomfortably to your folds. Your hands were clenching the material of his jeans on his thighs, an unintentional pout on your face.

Heeseung noticed, of course, cooing at you mockingly, at the sight of your pout. “Aw, are you feeling impatient? Want my dick down your throat that bad?”

Normally, you would be embarrassed by such vulgar words. But right now? Right now you were too horny to give a fuck about the language.

You nodded your head in a lust-driven frenzy, more slick gushing out of you. You needed him in you, anyway, anywhere — you just needed him.

His smirk widened at your answer. He didn't do anything yet, but you were already so pliant for him? What would happen when he actually did something?

He relaxed further into the couch, raising his eyebrows at you, the ever so cocky smirk not leaving his face. “Well? What are you waiting for then? Get on with it.”

Your eyes lit up at that, your hands flying to his zipper at lightning speed, clumsily trying to get rid of the barriers. You pulled down his waistband, the imprint of his cock very much visible through his boxers, a wet patch of precum accompanying it. As if in a trance, you started tracing its shape over the thin material.

His reaction was almost immediate. He let out a loud groan, throwing his head back on the sofa, his hips bucking into your hand. Encouraged by his reaction, you pressed your hand completely on him, starting to slowly palm him.

Heeseung had to bite down on his lip to muffle his sounds, his eyes hooded, as he watched you further rile him up. It was infuriating and hot at the same time. Unfortunately, he was starting to grow impatient from your teasing, causing him to push away your hand and grab a fistful of your hair instead, pulling your hair back. He sneered at you. “Have you had your fun yet? Get to work darling, or you might get into a lot of trouble. Trust me, I wouldn't be gentle about it.”

You gulped, nodding slowly, the sting from where your hair was being pulled causing your eyes to water. He let go of your hair, leaning back again. You grabbed the waistband of his boxers, slowly pulling them down. His cock sprang out, tall and proud. He let out a hiss as the cold air touched it, his mushroom tip an angry red colour, leaking a generous amount of precum.

You grabbed the base of his cock, using your other hand to grab the tip, spreading his precum around it with your thumb. His eyes rolled back in his head at the feeling, his bottom lip pulled in between his teeth to stop his moans from spilling out.

You had started to almost salivate the moment you saw his dick in all its glory, the urge to wrap your lips around it going through the roof. But you wanted to take your time with him. That's what you were here for, after all — to worship him.

You gave his tip a tentative lick, feeling it twitch in your hands, a muffled groan falling from his lips. Encouraged by his reaction, you started to give his tip kitten licks, leaving kisses along his entire length. You could see his chest rise and fall at a fast pace, his ragged breathing causing your pussy to throb with incessant need.

Unable to hold yourself back anymore, you took one hand off him, collecting a wad of spit in your mouth, before spitting it in your palm. You used your spit to rub his length, the mixture of your spit and his precum making the glide easier. You then finally wrapped your lips around his tip, swirling your tongue around it, the salty taste of his precum invading your senses, leaving you dazed.

Impatient from your teasing, he grabbed your hair into a makeshift ponytail, before pushing your head down on him completely, causing his dick to hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag. Your hands flew to his thighs, gripping them tightly, as you steadied yourself. 

You relaxed your jaw, slowly starting to bob your head up and down on his length, feeling the way he kept twitching in your mouth, despite not yet being close — although, you were more than happy to change that.

You relaxed your jaw and throat as best as possible, before taking him in deeper. His mushroom tip hit the back of your throat, causing him to choke lightly. He groaned at the feeling of your throat muscles contracting around his tip, causing him to buck his hips into your mouth — a huge mistake on his part, his cock having lodged itself further into your throat, the warm feeling causing him to let out a loud guttural moan.

He grabbed the back of your head again, quickly mumbling an apology to you. “‘M so sorry baby — but I need to fuck your mouth — will literally die if I don't–”

Before you could even register what was happening, you felt a sting at the back of your head, as his grip tightened on your hair. Suddenly, the air was completely knocked out of your lungs, as he started to harshly thrust into your mouth, fucking it as if it were your pussy.

Your nails dug into his thighs, drawing blood, although it did nothing to deter him. You could feel your eyes watering, tears falling in a steady stream from both of your eyes, drool falling from the corner of your lips. Heeseung noticed all of it in his lust driven haze, cooing at your pathetic appearance.

There was a bulge in your throat everytime he abused it, something you were glad that he was yet to notice. You could feel the vein on the underside of his cock pulsing, the pace of his thrusts increasing substantially as he chased his pleasure.

He grabbed your jaw in his other hand, squishing your cheeks together to make them hollow out further. His thrusts became erratic, his head falling back with a loud moan. “C-Cumming!–”

Suddenly, he pushed your head all the way down on him, your nose touching his pelvis. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, his jaw going slack. He shot rope after rope of cum straight into your mouth, your mouth helping him ride out his mind-blowing orgasm.

You finally pulled off his softening length, once he started squirming lightly from the overstimulation, swallowing every drop, careful to not spill anything. You opened your mouth wide, sticking out your tongue for him to check, getting a tired nod of approval.

He leaned back on the couch, breathing heavily, his mind reeling from the feeling of your amazing mouth. Without even realising, his eyes started closing, lulling him into a deep, much needed, sleep.

“OH, FOR FUCK’S SAKE, WAKE UP!”

Heeseung woke up with a start, wide eyes staring into your own angry ones in shock. Your hands were on your hips, your jaw clenched, eyes narrowed, as you glared at him. “Do you know how long I have been trying to wake you up for now? An hour! You hear me? An entire fucking hour! The party starts in half an hour, and neither of us have prepared any dresses to wear! What are we going to–”

He tuned you out. He wasn't particularly interested in what you were talking about either, too busy feeling hot all over, at the fact that he just had a dream. A wet dream. A wet dream about his best friend.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, realising they had zoned out. You turned around on your heel. “Why do I even bother…”

You suddenly noticed a plushie having fallen down on the floor, causing you to roll your eyes. He must have thrown it while moving around in his sleep. You bent down to pick it up.

Heeseung noticed it. Or course he did. He always noticed everything, especially if it involved you. How could you be so oblivious to his attraction towards you?

His eyes darkened as he caught a flash of your pink panties from under your skirt, just before you stood up straight again. It made him realise something.

He was going to change your indifferent attitude towards him. He was going to make you notice him — properly. Even if he needed to use some… interesting methods for it.

[mlyscha]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 𝒮leep 𝓸ver 𝗺𝗼vies.

★ ( 언하이픈 OT7 ) ── 𝓡EACTION: when you sleep in the middle of a movie night. genre. fluff, kind of domestic. 𝒻ℯ𝗆𝖺𝗅𝖾 𝗿𝖾𝖺𝒹𝖾𝗋! warnings. not proofread, english is not my 1st language. 𝓌𝒸. 1,OOO ♡ 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌, 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗮𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱! ( 𝐦𝖺𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍. )

𝒜!NOTE. i am back from the deathㅠㅠ i’m so sorry for disappearing you guys… oh boy this was A WEEK i might say. um, first of all! thank you guys for 200+ followers i promise this on comeback i will prepare something special! anyway, enjoy what i have written for you and tell me what you guys think about this new layout i am currently exploring ><

𝒽eeseung ( 희승 )

hearing your giggles or gasps during a movie night is something heeseung got used to, so, whenever he senses something feels a little bit off, he looks to his side checking on you ― knowing you well enough to tell that you were asleep. at first heeseung sighs because he made sure to ask you if you were sleepy before the movie started. however, in a caring way, he will make sure to take that snickers bar away from your grip, put it to the side, place a small kiss on your cheek, look at you for a minute, smile and then turn the movie off. the next day you wake up with your boyfriend with his head snuggled against your neck and the sun against your face, blinding you for a second. you didn't woke you with a sore body or anything, thanks to the comfy sofa!

𝒿ongseong ( 제이 )

you and your boyfriend had this movie night tradition, in which, every weekend there was a movie to watch together while cuddled up in bed. tonight couldn't be more different, and that applies to you being fast asleep against jongseong's chest; with not even half of the movie watched. your boyfriend knew how much you had worked throughout the week, hearing all of your struggles and complains, so, with that being said, he didn't and don't mind when it happens. he simply, carefully covers you better with the blanket, places a kiss on your forehead and caresses your hair until the movie ends and also ends being fast asleep. and the next day when you wake up with the smell of his cooking/baking, you wondered what have you done to be this lucky.

𝒿aeyun ( 제이크 )

while snuggling yourself under the blankets with your boyfriend, you complained that you felt tired and that you would probably get caught sleeping. hearing that, jaeyun simply shrugged, entertained by the movie's intro. meanwhile, after you laid your head against his chest you knew you were done. after a few minutes, jaeyun heard small snores and thought it was layla. however, when he realised layla was asleep on his little bed instead of on his feet, he looked over at you; realising it was actually you. watching you sleep in such a vulnerable state made his heart melt, murmuring in a small voice: "how can she look this cute...?"; then he proceeds to kiss your cheek and watches your nose scrunching with a grin, carefully placing another on your hair hoping you didn't wake up. the next morning when you hear him commenting that he thought layla was the one snoring instead of you, you felt like dying ― but it's part of the couple life!

𝓈unghoon ( 성훈 )

you are usually the one insisting to watch a certain movie, and when sunghoon agrees you sleep; is simple as that. your boyfriend, when realises you are blinking in a slower way and that your shoulders feel relaxed, he pinches your arm, smile when sees you frowning with a hint of annoyance and says: "you're sleeping again, huh? think you can trick me now?" "i am not sleeping!" "whatever you say...". not a long time after, sunghoon heard you breathing deeply ― a sign that you were fast asleep. with that, he chuckles out of amusement and disbelief, rubbing his thumb against your cheek while admiring you. he sighs before turning the tv off and carefully picking you up, carrying you to sleep on the comfy bed recently bought and not forgetting to give you a kiss before laying by your side.

𝓈unoo ( 선우 )

one thing that you love in your relationship is how much your partner understands you and looked after you, and that is related to these movie nights. both of your faces covered with a green face mask, cuddling on bed while a romantic comedy movie plays on tv. it feels so cozy and comfortable that all of the exhaustion during your work lays on you at this exact moment, leading you to a deep sleep. sunoo couldn't ignore the silence of the room when expecting you to laugh on a comic scene. feeling your relaxed body, he immediately knew you were sleeping. without making any sound or abrupt movement, he went to grab a wet towel; coming back just to wipe the face mask off of your face, making sure you slept comfortably without worrying about the green staining anything. your boyfriend wipes his mask off as well, laying on bed by your side and sleeping while hearing the music playing while the movie credits began to show.

𝒿ungwon ( 정원 )

jungwon, even though he is a caring boyfriend, he can be playful too! so, in this case, when watching the movie with you and then realising you were slowly falling into a deep sleep, he whispers into your ear: "are you asleep?" you hum a 'no'. "are you sure?" this time you whine, opening one of your eyes. "what do you want?" "nothing." and then later, when he catches you almost asleep again, he teases: "you are almost asleep!" you wake up this time, whining. "what do you want?!" "nothing." but then, when he turned his head to tease you again, you were prepared, looking at him deep into his eyes. "i am not asleep," "mhm... your eyes says otherwise," "shut up, you are losing the movie's best part." "why are you looking at me then?" "right..." you try to keep watching the movie, but then, finally, jungwon watches you sleep without saying a word, chuckling and giggling in amusement.

𝓇iki ( 니키 )

even though riki is the most playful member, this time he would be considered one of the sweetest. and that is because while spooning (you were the big spoon this time), you began to caresses his hair while watching the first ten minutes of the movie. however, riki caught your caresses lacking, proceeding to slowly look up at you, realising you were asleep. he smiled, letting out a nasal amused chuckle, kissing your chin, then trying his best to carefully switch role with you and be the big spoon. when riki finally did, he took a deep breath, feeling your arms tighten against his waist. he murmurs how cute you looked before placing a last kiss onto the crook of your neck then sleeping while feeling your warmth; hearing the forgotten movie playing on the background.

© 𝓪𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝓮, 𝗺𝗹𝘆𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗮 𝗌𝓽𝓾𝖽𝗂𝗈𝓼. ⋆

[isuggestforcefem]

started dating a cute twink, who ive known for about three years prior to this. he currently uses he him so thats what im going for for now... i'm a trans woman, having had socially transitioned since 2020 and being on estrogen since april. anyway i didnt have feelings for him until this summer, when i started, like, sensing something. i wasn't sure what it was, but now i'm completely certain that it's the feelings he has for me, his totally being an egg that hasn't cracked yet, some latent undiscovered potential of spirit, or a mixture of the three. we've been getting closer and closer to each other over time, moving into a massive grey area that I decided to turn into a completely certain, yes-we-are-a-thing. I'm bisexual leaning heavily toward women, you see, but i thought i'd make an allowance this time. today we went on a fantastic date, and i gave him what i suspect was his first kiss. the energy is still electric now that he's gone.

not what this is about, though. you see, as i've got closer to this person i've gradually understood that there's something extremely transgender going on with him- at least, as far as i can intuit. Over a year ago, I brought up the days when i was just questioning to another transgender friend, and he just sorta piped up, said "i've thought about it," and completely refused to elaborate. i still remembered that and i thought that our first date would be a nice time to discuss it- that flustered him real good, but he did mention that he perchance probably maybe might be transfem, but he's got school, so...

of course, the thing about girls like her is it's *never* the right time.

but whatever. i laid off, but intermittently i did what i do best and joked about him being transgender, and you know what? he never denied it, or confirmed it. he just stayed in that space between acceptance and denial, blushed and laughing. we're a relationship of comfort, you know? it's *comfortable* being around each other. it's *comfortable* not choosing trans or cis, just letting time pass. but god, i don't know, i want more for her! he's a sweet, adorable person now, but i know there's something inside him that's just so much more than this. i want it to get out. i want her to get out.

but the more i think about it the murkier it gets. he's so into me- do i hold the power here? is it better to wait for him to walk into womanhood, or should i be more active in encouraging him? i know i'm right, but what if i'm not, am i going to cause him dysphoria down the line? am i afraid of being a predator here because of internalized transmisogyny? am i overthinking this, should i just let it happen? for the record, he *does* seem to totally enjoy being a femboy- granted, that could go either way.

i've penned you an entire novel here, i recognize that and if you don't want to read this through or advise me that's just fine. if you'd like, you can leave this message out for your follower base or just save it in your inbox forever. but- i would LOVE your advice, ms forcefem. i do believe you're the one person to ask who would understand my position the best. thank you!

You should gently push her, help her down that path, make sure she feels safe to explore it! Girls like that will invent all sort of excuses to stay in denial, and you have to show her what she could have, the joy!

[indelicateink]

THANK YOU prev, i was wondering if anyone else was seeing this. if I zoom in, it’s not the iris that’s moving I think—i think it’s the reflections flickering?

now. either those candles are super bright and going crazy (unlikely?); or being an actual film set and having entire people whose profession this is, i can admit yeah they set up lights that have some flicker to them (could be could be), OR: they could not keep their goddamn fingers off it and this is cgi that is giving us those anime eyes (possible)

and i feel like i’m the only one not loving how they cgi the actors’ eyes in this show lol. the pupils, okay—I totally get that: no problem. that adds value given the prosthetics. allowing the contacts to have an autonomic response brings some realness—and powerful emotion—to the work; it is also awesome for conveying things like You Have Just Pissed Off A Vampire, et al.

but sometimes the pupil dilation takes me out of it. they are adding *emotion* to the actor’s performance and taking away a little…agency? intimate artistic input?…and I feel like I’m standing just on the edge of the uncanny valley. —but this is a horror property. i’m rolling with it.

but where I do feel quite alone with my discomfort lol is with what they’ve done with armand’s eyes? i’m probably incorrect, but i can’t escape the feeling it was something that was fallen into when there was viewer backlash to armand’s eyes being so very orange in the s1 reveal: that they took it, but pivoted, and said Okay So No We Say This Was Intentional—Armand Is Special: for his eyes, they actually glow in times of arousal and are more moderate in times of calm. and if that’s the case—pivoting—hand to god I wish they’d just toned down the color and we would have rolled with it, because it’s tv, and creative changes happen all the time from season to season and the audience honestly doesn’t gaf beyond going “oh hey” and moving tf on

and if that’s the case, it was almost as if they couldn’t leave his eyes alone at only that. and the next thing—i just. at first I thought it was a mistake in the cgi, and then i slowly accepted the intentionality.

they give only armand nystagmus, rapid uncontrollable eye movements. (frank langella and pruitt taylor vince have nystagmus—except in armand it is super exaggerated.) again, like armand’s glowing orange eyes, they only move like this during times of his very heightened emotion. and uh…again: it’s a horror property (okay sure go for it, make him a very special supernatural boy) vs someone else layering emotion on top of an actor’s performance (ehhh do not love). the movement is so very exaggerated that, to me, it’s wildly in danger of parody (like the glowing orange eyes, which themselves had already slipped into affectionate fan parody), but so far the fandom has been very accepting. and to me, because nystagmus is a real thing in people that here is so wildly exaggerated here when he “monsters out,” it’s nails on a chalkboard. but i’m trying to accept it over time.

and then. then they subtly played with lestat’s eye color. did we decide that was to be a gentle indicator of dreamstat, to set him apart even more? i’m not mad at it (and hey, at least it is surely a practical effect), but when i’m already grumpy about them fucking with their eyes, i can’t not not notice that they are, once again, fucking with eyes here lol. but whatever with this one. if they stop fucking around with it now, i’m chill.

the daniel thing was kinda fun. at this point in my grumpiness i’m just like fuck it, nothing matters, give him magic colored eyes like an x-men mutant lol, i will just let it wash over me. maybe they’ll shape-shift next. i will recite The Litany Against Being A Book Purist like i’m paul atreides undergoing torture like the histrionic purist that i am lol

anyway, lestat’s eyes here are very beautiful. if they fucked with them with cgi i’ll be illogically grumpy about it. if it is a practical effect i will, irrationally, be very chill with it. (did you know the replicants’ eyes in blade runner were a practical effect?? fucking awesome.) I don’t know. something something being in the room with the actor during the performance vs enhancing his performance later via software. i’m just so goddamn pleased they’re not glowing.

I don’t know how to caption this but the amount of times I rewinded Lestat’s reaction when Louis steps closer is alarming

[brbsoulnomming]

Heart On Your Sleeve Part 7

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

written for steddiebigbang2024 and belatedly posting here!

-----

Steve's half asleep on the couch when Dustin arrives the next day, and Robin lets him in.

“Hearts out,” Dustin demands immediately.

Steve winces. “Not a good idea, bud. My ribs are-”

“It's not your ribs,” Dustin interrupts. “You think I didn't see some blood when you were waving your heart around? Don't treat me like a baby, Steve, come on.”

Robin looks at him, and Steve shrugs.

“Okay,” he says, and Robin takes his heart out from her chest.

It looks better than it did yesterday, but it's still pretty pulpy, and Dustin goes pale.

“Steve,” he whispers, voice cracking.

“It's getting better,” Steve promises.

Dustin frowns, looking between him and Robin. “Are you having trouble breathing again? Why is Robin holding it?”

“It heals better when someone else has it,” Steve says. “Some kind of science thing.”

Dustin's frown deepens, then smooths out, and he holds his hands out to Robin. “My turn.”

“Dustin, I'm not going to ask you to-” Steve starts.

“You can't ask, I'm telling you I'm going to,” Dustin retorts. “I'm the first person who carried it, remember?”

Steve looks at Robin. She shrugs, and he can feel that she's not opposed to it, so he shrugs back. She hands his heart over to Dustin. There's some fumbling as Steve gives Robin's heart back to her and takes Dustin's instead, and then -

Huh.

Dustin is just as stubborn as he's always seemed, but underneath that is a quiet fear and a sense of love deeper than anything Steve's ever felt - other than from Robin.

“Come here.”

Steve gives him a hug - or as much of a hug as he can manage - then leans back on the couch again. “Breakfast's in the kitchen,” he says, already closing his eyes.

—

The next time he opens them, it's to the sound of half a dozen gremlins talking in what's probably supposed to be hushed tones.

“How did you all even get in here?” he asks.

They jump, then Dustin juts his chin out.

“I called them,” he says.

“We are here to help,” El says solemnly.

“Dustin told us what happened,” Lucas says.

Steve grimaces. “Look, you guys don't have to-”

“Will it work?” El asks.

Steve blinks at her. “Will what work?”

“If I try to heal your heart. Dustin says he looked it up, and it works best if it's someone you care about. Am I?”

Oh, that's just cheating. How is he supposed to protest with those eyes looking at him.

“Yeah, Ellie, of course you are. It'll work.”

She holds out her hands determinedly. "I don't have my powers. I couldn't save my - my dad, but I can do this. I can help you."

And that's that.

The next thing he knows, they've scheduled up a rotation along with Robin, and taken over his house, setting themselves up to watch TV or play games or do whatever else.

He finds himself alone with El, and he looks at her for a moment before asking, “Do you like cookies?”

Of course she likes cookies.

Steve can't actually do much work, but he can sit at the kitchen table and give directions, and she determinedly follows all of them as she puts together cookie dough.

He can feel the rough edges of her grief and her hopelessness, and he tries to give back as much support as he can.

She isn't alone.

“May I ask you something?” she asks, when a batch of cookies are in the oven and they're eating cookie dough.

“Sure,” he says.

“Dustin is not your brother.”

That's not a question, but he answers it anyway. “Not the way Mike is Nancy's brother or Will is Jonathan's, no.”

She frowns. “I don't understand,” she admits. “Mike says you are brave. That he likes you better now that you're not Nancy's boyfriend. I thought - you are like Mike.”

Oh, he is definitely remembering that for later. “Like Mike how?”

“Mike stepped off of a cliff for Dustin.”

Steve's brain screeches to a halt. “Mike what?”

“There were mouth breathers - bullies. They threatened to hurt Dustin if Mike didn't jump. He did. I caught him,” she's quick to reassure him, like that's what he's stuck on. “So - I thought you are like Mike. You protect your friends.”

“Like you, too,” Steve says, deciding to table the whole Mike thing for now. “You protect your friends.”

She smiles at him, a tiny, fleeting thing before her face scrunches in confusion. “But Max and Dustin and Lucas were not always your friends. Max says you jumped in front of a demodog the day you met her. I don't understand.”

Yeah, Steve's not sure he really understands either - a feeling she must pick up, because she looks even more confused.

“I just - wanted to help.” It sounds even lamer than it did when he said that about cleaning up the graffiti at the theater, but it's what he's got. “Maybe - we don't have to be like anyone, you know? We can just be like us. We can just want to help.”

Her expression smooths out, and he can feel - she kind of likes that.

“What I like,” she says, which is clearly a call back to something else with the way she's feeling, though he has no idea what.

It's okay. He doesn't really have to know what, he thinks - they understand each other.

And they have cookies.

—

He calls Mrs. Byers, just to make sure she knows where Will and El are.

She does, of course, but he also wants to check on her.

Her voice is unsteady and thick with grief, but she tells him not to worry about her, asks how the kids are doing, how he is.

He doesn't want to worry her, either, but he tells her what the kids’ plan is, how hard they're trying to help him.

How guilty he feels about it.

She's gentle when she tells him to let them help, that they care about him and they want to be able to do something good. He promises he will, and that he'll look after them.

He wishes he could do more.

—

Mike's up next, like he wants to get it over with.

Steve wants to tease him about the whole thinking he's brave thing, but when he's hit with everything Mike feels - worry and love and pride and protectiveness and how can I keep them all safe what am I supposed to do, he finds he doesn't want to give him a hard time.

Mike's angry at him, but he's angry at him because he's scared. Because he doesn't want to like him, doesn't want to trust him, but he does.

Mike likes him a whole lot, actually.

And Steve guesses that Mike can feel his own slightly amused fondness, because the kid scowls at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” Steve replies.

He thinks for a while, while Mike sullenly sits at the kitchen table with him and pretends like Steve doesn't know that he actually has feelings.

Eventually, even though he knows it's going to get him scoffed at, he says, “Do you know why teams have co-captains?”

Mike rolls his eyes. “Because they're too stupid to figure out how to play themselves?”

He tamps down on his irritation, though he knows not quickly enough, because Mike looks smug.

“So there's more than one person to make the hard choices. So if one person can't be there, the other can. So no one has to be in two places at once. So one person doesn't have to be everything to everyone,” Steve continues.

Mike scoffs, but Steve can still feel that it resonates with him. “Your stupid sports game is way less important than real life danger.”

“Yeah, sure. But so is your dragons game, and you guys use that all the time.”

He can feel that Mike wants to protest, though he also reluctantly thinks that Steve's right.

“So, what, you think we should pick captains for our Party?” Mike asks.

“Nah. You're already the party leader, right?” Steve asks. He knows that's how Mike sees himself, knows that's the pressure he puts on himself.

Now more than ever.

“But last time and this time, we had to split up, right? And you can't be everywhere.”

“You don't get it,” Mike says. “It's my job to protect them. How am I supposed to do it if I can't look out for everyone?”

“You get some help. Look - that's what I'm here for, all right? Let me help watch out for you guys.”

Mike snorts. “You?”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, I think it's worked out so far.”

Mike glances away. Whatever he's thinking of, there's the faint memory of fear and an unbidden, reluctant wash of relief, of safety.

“Fine,” he mutters. “Whatever, you're in the Party.”

Steve doesn't point out that he's already been in it, according to some of them. He has a feeling that's the most he's going to get out of Mike, for now.

It's enough.

—

It's easy, with Max and Lucas.

Probably easier than it should be.

He and Max swap, and he sits with her angry, confused grief. He can feel her daring him to say something, so - he doesn't.

He opens his arms, and he says, “Come here,” and she's exhausted enough that she does.

He hugs her tight while she cries into his chest, angry with herself for crying and angry with Billy for being so terrible and saving her life anyway. Angry with Steve, too, but that one's too complicated for him to figure out with the echoes of the feelings he gets from her.

“I'm here,” he says after a while, even though it makes her cry harder. “I'm right here.”

He sits with Lucas, after, staring at the door where El and Max have retreated to try to get some sleep.

“I don't know how to help her,” Lucas says.

He doesn't sound lost, but his heart beats in Steve's chest, and he can feel it anyway.

“Me either,” Steve admits, because he knows Lucas can feel it from him, too.

“What am I supposed to do?” Lucas asks.

Steve thinks for a moment. “Be there for her. Don't push her, but make sure she knows you're there. That you're not going anywhere.”

Some of the helplessness fades, and Lucas nods.

“Yeah, I can do that.”

They're quiet for a little bit.

“I want to try out for the basketball team,” Lucas says suddenly, then shoots an almost shy little look over at Steve at his pleased surprise.

“That's awesome, man. You want to get some more practice in after a few weeks?” Steve asks.

Lucas nods, then hesitates. “I don't think that Mike and Dustin and Will are going to like it.”

Steve frowns. “They like me okay.”

“Well, yeah, but that's different. We used to think you were a douchebag.”

It startles a laugh out of Steve. “Wow, thanks, Sinclair.”

Lucas shrugs, unapologetic. “We know you aren't now. But they're going to think I'm abandoning them.”

Steve considers. “Are you?”

“No! I'll still play D&D and stuff with them, we'll still be the Party. I want to prove you can do both. I want - I don't want people to mess with them. I want to do what you did.”

Steve swallows, suddenly a little choked up. He wishes he could blame it on his injuries, but he knows damn well Lucas can feel how touched he is.

“You're gonna be great, man,” he says when he has himself more under control. “You're gonna be way better than I ever was.”

—

When Will's up in the little rotation the gremlins have worked out, he lingers a few steps away, hesitant.

"Hey, man, you don't have to," Steve says awkwardly. "I can tell the other gremlins that you're needed at home."

Will looks at him for a moment. "Do I count?"

"What?" Steve asks.

"You didn't hunt a demodog with me, or barricade a bus in a junkyard, or fight off a bully, or go to the Upside Down tunnels, or invade a Russian bunker. You just let me into movies for free and let me hang out at your house with everyone. Is that enough?" Will's tone had been very matter of fact, but it goes a little bit more tenuous there.

"Yeah," Steve says. "Yeah, it is."

Will comes up to the table, holding his hands out expectantly, and Steve drops his heart into them.

It doesn't hurt, but by now, he doesn't expect it to. Steve's not sure he'll ever be able to thank any of the kids for this, but if Joyce is right, if being able to do something helps them after everything they just went through, then he guesses he's glad for that.

The awkwardness lingers a little after they've exchanged hearts. Probably because now they can feel an echo of each other's feelings. It makes Steve scramble for a topic.

"Mike and Lucas apologize to you yet?" Steve asks.

Will looks at him in confusion. "What for?"

"You think I didn't notice they've been kind of shitty? My money's on Mike being more insensitive about it, but Lucas has been right there with him, you know? Ditching Dustin half the time since he's been back, and before that it was always you playing fifth wheel."

Will looks a little surprised. “How'd you even notice that?”

"Because the same thing happened to me," Steve admits.

"I doubt it," Will mutters.

"It did!" Steve insists. "I had two best friends growing up. Then in middle school, they started dating, and suddenly every time we hung out I was the third wheel. It drove me nuts at first."

Will frowns. "Wait, but. You were always dating girls."

"Well, yeah, because I knew I was supposed to. I did a lot of things because it was what I was supposed to do." Steve'd liked all of them well enough, enjoyed dating them - especially once he started having sex and realized how good at it he could be - but he's not going to pretend like there isn't a reason his relationships didn't last very long.

Nancy'd been the only one he could see a forever with.

The kid's brows furrow, like he's not really sure what to do with that information.

"My point is-” Steve points at him with his spoon. “-don't let them rush you, or make you feel like you have to do something you don't want to do just to fit in with them. They're a lot better friends than mine were; they'll understand."

Will considers that. "Jonathan says I should never like something just because people tell me I should. That it's okay that I'm a freak, because he's a freak, too.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks. “What'd you say back?”

Will scrunches his nose. “I asked if that was why he didn't have any friends.”

He shouldn't, but Steve gives a little snort of laughter. Oh, no, Will is funny.

“Your brother has friends,” Steve protests, to counter his laughter. “He's got Nancy and me.”

Will rolls his eyes. “Nancy's his girlfriend.”

“Point in your favor,” Steve admits. “Still leaves me. And Robin will be his friend.”

Will toys with an apple from the fruit basket on the island. “Are you and Jonathan even really friends? It's not like you guys hang out.”

“Ouch, Byers, I thought you were the nice one,” Steve says, giving the kid a fond little smile to show he doesn't mean it. “There's different kinds of friends, I guess. Did, uh. Did Jonathan ever tell you how I got involved with all this?”

“Not really.” Will says with a shrug. “Just that you and him and Nancy fought a demogorgon.”

“That's because your brother's a good guy,” Steve tells him, then nudges the chair across from him.

It only moves a handful of inches, making Steve grimace - he'd wanted to kick it all the way out from under the table, but clearly he's not at full kicking strength. Still, it does the job, and Will takes a seat.

“I saw Nancy and Jonathan together on her bed one night, when she and I had just started dating. She couldn't tell me about the Upside Down stuff yet, but I knew she was lying, and I thought they were seeing each other behind my back.”

Will's looking at him, eyes huge, and it makes guilt twist in his stomach at the thought of what he said to Jonathan that day.

“We got in a fight the next day,” Steve admits. “I was really mean to him. So I went to your house later to apologize, and that's when I stumbled in on him and Nancy setting their trap. I gotta tell you, it was a really rude awakening, getting my apology speech interrupted by a demogorgon.”

“Try getting your bike ride home interrupted by one,” Will says dryly.

For a moment, Steve wonders if he should feel guilty bringing it up and potentially traumatizing the kid, but - Will doesn't look like he wants to be tiptoed around, and he can feel the faint trepidation from the kid's heart beating in his chest. The fear that someone's going to treat you different.

So Steve snorts instead. “Okay, you've got me beat,” he concedes. “You win the gold medal of demogorgon attacks.”

“Thanks.” It's just as dry, but Will's smiling at Steve like he said the right thing, so he'll take it. “Do I get an actual medal?”

Steve gives a surprised little laugh. “You know what? Sure. Come on.”

His pace is slow as he heads upstairs, and out of the corner of his eye, he's pretty sure he sees Will's hands twitch like he's debating trying to help him up. Steve resolutely ignores it until they get to his room, and then he unearths his first place medal from the medley swimming relay in eighth grade.

“Hang on, let me-” Steve digs around for some duct tape and a sharpie, then slaps a strip of tape on the back of the medal, pressing it down to get it to stick well. He writes demogorgan attack on the tape, blows on it to get it to dry, then hands it to Will with all the solemnity as if he was actually presenting him with a first place medal.

“Oh my God,” Will says, looking a little gobsmacked. “You're a nerd. You're one of us!”

“Hey! You spread that around, and I'll take your medal back!” Steve threatens.

“No way,” Will retorts. “Come back when you get dragged into the Upside Down by a demogorgon for dinner.”

“No thanks,” Steve says. “It's all yours.”

Will is beaming at him, and Steve kind of hates to ruin the mood - but he also really has to sit down. The downside to having them all on a rotation of heart exchanges is that he can't hide when it gets really bad.

He sits down on his bed while he can still do it without just dropping down onto the mattress. Will watches him for a moment, then carefully sits on the bed too, a foot or so away from him.

“So - that's why you and Jonathan are friends? You apologized and you fought a monster together?” Will asks.

“Yeah, I guess so. Look, there's different kinds of friends, right? There's the friends you have because you share a class together, or the ones you play the same sport - or, uh, hobby with, or the ones you just hang out with sometimes. And then there's the good ones, the ones who know you. Jonathan and I might not hang out outside of school, but I know he's got my back, and I've got his. Any time he needed me, I'd be right there.”

His feelings about Jonathan are - complicated, but that's the truth. Whatever else, Steve cares about the guy a hell of a lot, trusts him like he trusts very few others.

Steve's not sure what Will can pick up from him, but it must be enough to convince him that Steve's sincere, because he just quietly says, “Oh.”

“That goes for you, too,” Steve tells him. “Okay? You need me, I'm there.”

Will's cheeks go just a little pink, and there's a faint flutter of some kind in his heart, but Steve can't really tell what it is. “Okay.”

They're quiet for a moment, but it's not really awkward anymore - or at least, not beyond Steve trying to figure out how long before he's going to be able to get himself back downstairs without leaning on anyone.

“Did you date Nancy because you were supposed to?” Will asks after a while.

“Nancy's different,” Steve replies automatically, hearing an echo of himself saying the same thing to Dustin the day they were looking for Dart, and knowing it's just as true now as it was then, even if he's over her now - or as over her as he thinks he'll ever be.

Will mulls that over. “So - I might find a girl one day that's different, even if I've never liked girls before?”

There's something about the way that Will says it that sends him back into the Starcourt bathroom with Robin, watching her stare at him as he said but Tammy Thompson's a girl, waiting for it to click into place for him, and -

Oh.

Oh, shit.

Oh, shit, he thinks he's accidentally implied something he didn't really mean to imply here. He thinks about trying to stutter out a clarification, that when Steve said he did it because he was supposed to, he didn't mean that he didn't like girls - he loves girls, girls are fantastic -

But.

But there's Eddie.

Will's voice had been so small, and whatever he can feel from Steve's heart in his chest is making his eyes go wide and scared, and it -

“Maybe,” Steve finds himself saying before he really knows what he's talking about. “But maybe not. And that's - that's okay. Whoever you like, or don't like, whoever you want to date or not date, it's okay.”

Steve pauses, feels like that isn't enough, and scrunches his face up. “Unless they're like, objectively terrible. If you get a crush on some little asshole, I can and will make fun of you.”

There's a ghost of a smile there. “Like Dustin and Suzie?” he asks.

“Way worse than Dustin and Suzie,” Steve says. “I had to be nice about Suzie, because everyone thought Dustin was making her up. I'm talking no holds barred here.”

—

"Do you think that guy's dead?"

Steve doesn't have to ask what guy Dustin means. He grimaces a little, because even if he wanted to, there's no way he can lie with their hearts in each other's chests. "We blew up their lab, man, I think most of them are dead."

Dustin frowns, looking like he's not sure if he thinks that's a good enough answer.

"I guess," he says finally. Then, so quietly Steve can barely hear it, Dustin asks, "Am I a bad person?"

"What?" Steve asks, thrown. "You've saved the world how many times now?"

Dustin gives him a look. "The same amount of times that you have."

Steve bumps Dustin's shoulder with the back of his knuckles. "Saved Nancy and Jonathan, maybe, but not sure how much world saving I did the first time. You got one up on me."

Dustin rolls his eyes. "Basically the same."

"All right, all right," Steve says. "We've saved the world a few times. Bad people don't usually do that."

Dustin fiddles with the hem of his shirt. "Billy did. Kind of. He helped, at the end. Does that make him a good person?"

Shit, Steve is way too concussed for this.

"No," he says after a little while. "I don't think so. Maybe if he had more time, but I don't think one good thing that he did while he was already dying makes up for all the other bad things he did."

Dustin screws up his face in concentration, then nods. "Me too."

Steve'd really like to just end the conversation there, but he's pretty sure Dustin needs him to keep going, and, well.

He's always going to be there when Dustin needs him.

"What makes you think you're a bad person?" he asks.

Dustin stares at his hands for a little while. "I don't feel bad."

Steve tries to make sense of that for a moment, then gives up. "You lost me."

"I killed that guy," Dustin says, looking back up at him almost defiantly. "And I don't feel bad. I'm not sorry he's dead."

Guilt stabs through him so strongly that he knows Dustin must feel some of it, and he grimaces a little when Dustin frowns at him.

"What was that?" Dustin asks.

"I'm sorry that you had to do that," Steve says. "It's not fair."

Dustin scoffs. "None of this is fair."

All right, yeah, Dustin's got a point. Okay, new tactic.

"Look at me, Dust," Steve says softly.

Dustin pulls a face. "I am looking at you."

"Ugh, no, I mean look at me." Steve waves a hand at himself.

"You look like shit," Dustin tells him.

"Exactly," Steve agrees. "You know why I look like shit?"

There's an echo of something remarkably similar to the guilt Steve just felt.

"Because of me," Dustin says, voice small.

Shit.

"What? No! How is this your fault?" Steve asks.

"I pushed the Russian message thing. You only looked into it because I wanted to," Dustin says.

"That's not - I looked into it for the same reason I helped you look for Dart, okay? Because I'm in this, and we're in this together, and if there's something out there, it's going to find us. That's not your fault."

Dustin doesn't look convinced.

"There is nothing that's going to keep me away from being in this with you, okay? Even if you didn't push me. Even if you didn't even tell me. I'd find out, and then I'd be mad." He pauses. "Like, really mad. Like telling your mom you ditched me and got in trouble so she doesn't let you leave the house for a year mad."

"Okay, okay," Dustin says, but he looks happier. "So what was your point, then?"

His point?

Right, his point.

"I look like shit because of the dead guy and his buddies." Part of Steve thinks he should hedge around this, try to sugarcoat it a little, but - treating Dustin like he's a kid who can't handle this isn't going to do anything. "You saw my heart, Dustin. You think the guys who did that were just going to let me walk out of there?"

Dustin looks at him, eyes big. "No," he admits quietly.

"The only reason I'm still standing here is because of you. I mean it, man - I'd be dead without you. And it sucks that you had to do that, and I wish I could have been faster or better, saved you from being the one that had to, but I'm not sorry that he's dead, either. Maybe that makes me a bad person. Maybe I'm a bad person because I would do the same thing, because I'd have killed all of them to protect you and I wouldn't feel bad at all."

Dustin's lip quivers a little. "You're not a bad person, Steve."

"Neither are you," Steve tells him.

The kid's eyes look suspiciously wet. Steve shifts, straightening up a little and lifting his arms.

"Come here."

Dustin drops down onto the couch, squished into his side. Steve drapes his arm over his shoulder, gingerly hugging him, and pretending that he can't hear Dustin's quiet sniffles or feel the shake of his shoulders.

"You're like the best person I know," Steve says softly.

"You too," Dustin replies, voice a little wet. "You're gonna be okay, right?"

"Yeah. I'm gonna be fine."

His heart might not ever be the same, but with all of them trying so hard to keep it together and help it heal - it makes him feel pathetic, but he kind of thinks he might be even better.

It seems a good enough response for Dustin, who stays tucked in against his side, eyes slipping shut like he's going to fall asleep right there.

Steve wants to bitch about it, but he also doesn't want to move, so he just lets it happen.

"I used to be so jealous of Mike and Will," Dustin mutters sleepily after a while.

"Yeah?" Steve asks absently.

"All this sucks, and they had Nancy and Jonathan," Dustin says.

"Mmm," Steve agrees, feeling pretty close to sleep himself.

"I'm not anymore though."

"No?" Steve asks.

"Nah," Dustin mumbles. "You're way better than Nancy and Jonathan."

This is already written, and my plan is to post one part a day until it's all up here!

----

Part 8

Taglist (always happy to add more to this if anyone wants): @fairytalesreality @lostonceandneverfound @wheneverfeasible @awkwardgravity1 @theintrovertedintrovert @thewickedkat @ravenfrog @scarlet-malfoy @missmagillicuddy @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @ollyxar @cringe-culture-is-dead-99 @thedragonsaunt @makewavesandwar @cryptid-system @ajeff855 @mae-liz @the-fantastical-asexual @jettestar @warlordess @persnicketysquares @samsoble @my-love-of-books @mydysfunctionallife @dreamercec @holyangelstudentuniverse @breealtair @shunna @xtraordinarally @thatdamnfan @justalittledrainbamage @strangerfolks @disrespectedgoatman @amber-ambience @anxietyfulloption @thepossummoldypasta

[cherryfyre]

5 Ways Sarah Cameron Used Rafe To Change Your Mind

For the ladies in the back !! @lovinqbella 🥂🥂

1. Convincing You to Attend a Party

You stood in Sarah’s room, arms crossed, shaking your head. “No way. I’m not going to that party. It’s just going to be a mess of drunk people and bad music.”

Sarah groaned, flopping dramatically onto her bed. “You’re impossible. It’s one party, and everyone’s going to be there.”

“Exactly my point,” you replied, raising an eyebrow.

She glanced at her phone and suddenly smirked. “Fine, don’t go. But you know who is going?”

“I don’t care,” you said quickly, but the way she raised her brows in response made your stomach twist.

“Rafe’s going,” she said, casually scrolling. “And honestly, he doesn’t go to these things that often anymore. Kinda weird, actually.”

You hesitated, looking out her window like you could avoid the conversation altogether. “That’s… irrelevant.”

Sarah grinned. “Is it? Because last time I checked, you two had been getting along pretty well. I’m just saying, he asked if you were coming.”

Before you could respond, her bedroom door creaked open. Rafe leaned against the frame, one hand tucked into the pocket of his hoodie. “You coming or not?”

His blue eyes locked on yours, unreadable, though there was a flicker of something—expectation, maybe—that made your heart skip.

“I haven’t decided,” you said, standing straighter.

Rafe smirked, tilting his head slightly. “Sounds like a yes to me. I’ll see you there.” He turned and walked away, leaving you with a stunned expression and Sarah grinning like she’d won.

2. Persuading You to Go on a Group Hike

“Nope. Not happening,” you said, firmly tying your sneaker and standing up.

Sarah frowned. “Why not? It’ll be fun! Fresh air, great views, all that stuff.”

You gave her a pointed look. “It’s a hike. You know I don’t do bugs, dirt, or sweating unless absolutely necessary.”

Sarah sighed, tapping her phone against her palm thoughtfully. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to tell Rafe you bailed.”

You blinked. “Rafe?”

“Yeah, he’s coming. Said he wanted to get out of the house. Weird, right? Anyway, he’s probably going to make fun of you for being scared of a little exercise, but I’ll tell him you had a good excuse.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I’m not scared. I just don’t see the point.”

Sarah smirked. “Sure. Tell that to him when he asks where you are.”

An hour later, you were trailing behind the group, muttering under your breath about Sarah’s manipulation. Rafe slowed his pace until he was walking beside you, his tanned arm brushing yours.

“Not so bad, right?” he asked, glancing at you with a slight grin.

You huffed. “I wouldn’t call this fun.”

“Guess you just need better company,” he replied, his voice low and teasing.

You shot him a look, but the warmth of his smile made the dirt path seem a little less annoying.

3. Convincing You to Go Paddleboarding

“No, Sarah. I’m not getting on a paddleboard,” you said firmly, eyeing the glistening water of the cove.

Sarah grinned mischievously. “You say that like you’ve tried it before.”

“Because I don’t have to try it to know I’ll fall flat on my face,” you replied, crossing your arms.

“Not if someone’s there to help you balance,” she said casually, glancing behind you. Before you could ask what she meant, a low voice interrupted.

“Scared of water or just bad at sports?”

You turned to see Rafe leaning against the dock post, his hair tousled from the wind and a smirk tugging at his lips. He was shirtless, his tan skin catching the sun, and you suddenly found it difficult to form a response.

“I’m not scared,” you muttered, though your pulse betrayed you.

“Good,” Rafe said, stepping closer. “Because I’m not about to let you drown. Come on, I’ll even hold the board steady for you.”

Sarah nudged you with her elbow. “See? Easy solution.”

Fifteen minutes later, you were wobbling on the board, Rafe’s hands steady on your ankles. “Relax,” he said, his voice low and calm. “You’re overthinking it.”

His eyes met yours briefly, and for a moment, you forgot all about the water beneath you.

4. Persuading You to Go for a Late-Night Drive

“I’m not getting in a car with Rafe,” you said, glaring at Sarah.

“Why not? It’s just a drive,” she replied, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

“You mean with your brother who drives like a maniac?”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “He’s not that bad. Plus, he said he’s going to the lookout, and you love it there.”

You hesitated. The lookout was your favorite spot, but…

Before you could argue further, headlights illuminated the driveway, and Rafe’s truck pulled up. He leaned out the window, his arm resting casually on the doorframe. “You coming or what?”

You glanced at Sarah, who gave you a knowing look, and reluctantly got in.

The drive was surprisingly quiet, the hum of the engine filling the space. When you reached the lookout, the stars seemed impossibly bright.

“You always this stubborn?” Rafe asked, leaning back against the hood of the truck.

“Only when I have a reason to be,” you shot back, but your tone lacked its usual bite.

“Noted,” he said, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer than necessary.

5. Persuading You to Help Fix the Dock

“You’re kidding, right?” you said, staring at the pile of wooden planks and tools. “I don’t know the first thing about fixing a dock.”

Sarah shrugged. “Neither do I, but Rafe does. And he said he could use an extra set of hands.”

“Why don’t you help him then?” you shot back.

“I have other plans,” she said, already backing away. “But you? You’d be perfect for the job.”

Before you could argue, Rafe appeared, carrying a toolbox. He glanced between you and Sarah, his expression unreadable. “You staying to help?”

You sighed. “Apparently.”

He smirked. “Didn’t think you’d be the type to get your hands dirty.”

“I’m full of surprises,” you replied, grabbing a hammer.

As the afternoon wore on, you found yourself laughing more than you expected. Rafe’s sleeves were rolled up, sawdust clinging to his skin, and the way he occasionally glanced at you—like he was trying to figure you out—left you feeling strangely flustered.

When the dock was finally finished, he leaned against a post, watching the sunset. “Not bad for a rookie,” he said, his tone teasing but soft.

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in his gaze made it hard to argue.

[despressoslatte]

not the zoey you wanted (four)

pairing: zach maclaren x female reader!

summary: you waited all weekend for your boyfriend, Zach, to call or text, anything, to explain why he had just went and ghosted you when you were supposed to go with him on a family ski trip to meet his parents, his sister Avery, and his cousin, Miles.

content warnings: angst; victims of catfishing; miscommunication trope

a/n: a big big BIG thank you to everyone who has been enjoying this fic! I love seeing everyone’s comments and inbox messages dissecting the story and making predictions! I wrote for OBX back in 2020 when the show first came out under a different blog (in case anyone here remembers a blog called jjmaybankx, HI! Though that’s just a generic username, it might be hard to remember that specific iteration ahaha), but i had just created this blog the same day i put out this fic… and i am in awe of how well received and how much you guys are actually invested in this little world i have conjured up whilst dreaming of bf!drew. I am very honored <3

Masterlist | < part three | add yourself to the taglist

ᯓ⟢

How you were supposed to just get up and go to your afternoon classes after what had just happened was beyond you, but you had an important peer workshop in one of your writing courses and then straight to the tutoring center for you. 

Day one was hard, as you navigated the complexities of whatever the hell had just happened. You were angry: angry at the car for hitting Zach, angry that he had even for a second thought that Zoey Miller had been you, angry that she let him think that knowing it was wrong, angry that she did any of what she did at all. And most of all, angry that you were even angry with Zach for it.

Tuesday rolled around and you had to go to the class you had with Zoey Miller, with anger seething in your veins but the inability to cause a scene. You hadn’t told anyone, not even your roommate Bree, what had happened. You felt like if you made a big deal and spoke about it, then you would likely never get over it. 

You felt her eyes on you as you typed your notes during the lecture, having sat a few rows and seats to the left in front of you. Could she like… not? Face forward and pay attention to the class, stop staring at the girl whose boyfriend you tried to steal after trying to steal his cousin, thanks. 

Your next shift at the tutoring center was on Wednesday. Instead of having assigned tutees for the day, you had a five hour shift in the tutoring center where you mainly did your own homework, helped student athletes figure out why the printers wanted to act up and not print their assignments, and help the few random people who would come up to the reception desk to ask you for help on a writing assignment or to proofread their essays.

You paused as you set your coffee up and laptop down on the desk, looking across the tutoring center to see Zach hunched over his own computer in one of the middle tables, typing away. He was one of the few athletes who wasn’t assigned to mandatory study hall hours after he had gotten his grade up, thanks to your one-on-one tutoring sessions and then, once his girlfriend, study dates together in his dorm or yours. He normally wouldn’t be caught dead in the tutoring center if he wasn’t required to be there, preferring to do his homework on his own anyways.

But there he was, regardless. 

A week passed and Zach didn’t try to talk to you at all, just like you had asked. You also never saw him walking around with Zoey Miller, a recurring minor nightmare you kept on having. Thank God, you thought every time you’d see one of them around campus without the other. Zoey Miller came to class looking miserable every time, and each time you worked a shift at the tutoring center, whether it be study hall monitoring or a few hours of one-on-one tutoring, Zach was there, during his homework by himself at one of the tables. 

“Hey.”

You looked up from the book you were engrossed in, taking off one airpods to see Zach in front of you, his laptop in his arms.

“Zach…” you sighed softly.

“I’m not here to bother you, I swear,” he reassured you, sliding his laptop to face you. “I just… actually need your help with this one, promise.”

You looked down at his screen to see an essay typed out. You glance up at him again.

“It’s a big part of my grade, so I was wondering if you could proofread it,” he said sheepishly, putting his hands in his pockets.

You exhale and nod, motioning with your head to the seat next to yours. A smile beamed across his face, and he rounded the desk to sit down next to you, both of you half facing each other as he watched you go over his essay in suggesting mode, making comments and edit recommendations. 

“I like the color you painted your nails,” he said softly.

“Zach,” you warned.

He shut up.

You got to page five of the essay, having only had to make a few small grammatical suggestions, a small smile building on your face for how well written the essay had been. When he wanted to apply himself, and knew how to, Zach would always be extremely smart. Sometimes, when it came to subjects he didn’t quite care for, he just didn’t care to put in the effort. But he was very smart, he had to be a student athlete. 

Plus, you knew he had little moments of crises when he thought about his future. He didn’t think he’d make it pro, but he also wasn’t passionate for other things the way he was for soccer. He felt aimless sometimes. The ironic part of it all was that he chose English Literature as his major, the classes he struggled with the most and hence how you two met.

You had given him the idea before that if he really didn’t think he could go pro, he could keep playing soccer or being involved with it through coaching at high schools or even middle schools. But you also always told him that you thought he had it in him to go pro. He was the school’s soccer star, you weren’t sure why he always sold himself short.

“You okay?” his voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

You had been stuck on page five for longer than it would have taken to read the page over twice, Zach just sitting there in anticipation of what you thought he needed to fix before he looked over at your face and noticed you were zoned out.

“Yeah, yeah,” you shook yourself out of it, continuing to scroll down through his essay.

Another excruciating fifteen minutes until you were finished reading over every line intricately and leaving any commentary needed, you slid the laptop back closer to Zach.

“Just those edits, and it’s all good,” you told him, trying to avoid looking at him.

He tapped the desk, nodding. “Thanks,” he said, and you pursed your lips and nodded.

You bit your lip to try and prevent yourself from asking the question that has been hot on your mind, but the words vomit out before you can stop it, “How come you’ve been doing your homework here?”

You finally look into his striking blue eyes, seeing them widen before his cheeks turned a light shade of pink.

“It’s the student athlete tutoring center,” he pointed out, then pointed at himself. “Student athlete.”

You titled your head to the side, giving him “the look” as you said, “Zach…”

“Fine, fine,” he sighed with a small laugh, closing his laptop closed. “It’s the only time I ever get to see you, okay?”

You had an inkling feeling that was it, and you just nod in response.

“I can stop if seeing me bothers you,” he whispered.

“Seeing you would never bother me,” you said back.

The hopeful smile that erupted on his face made your heart sting.

The moment you two were having was interrupted when another student athlete walked up, asking for help since the printers weren’t working. You offered Zach a small smile, and he gave you a wave, before you got up to go to the opposite side of the tutoring center to figure out the printer.

ᯓ⟢

On your way to class the next day, you paused in front of the class you had with Zoey to see she was standing a little bit to the side of the pathway talking to Zach. You slowed your steps down a bit as you stared at them. You couldn’t see his face, but you could tell from the back of his head, jacket, and backpack that it was him.

That same guilty look was on Zoey’s face, and she was shaking her head. 

You could tell from Zach’s body language that he was upset, the way his shoulders lifted and his arms moved about as he talked, the way he did when he was trying to drive a point. 

You didn’t feel like watching them talk, putting your head down and heading into the building to go to class.

ᯓ⟢

“So, she broke up with you?” Zoey asked as she stood there staring up at Zach. She had asked him if they could talk when she saw him walking by on her way to class, and with an irritated huff, he agreed.

“She did not break up with me,” Zach said back sternly, shoving his hands into his pocket, kicking a rock on the floor. “She is just taking time to… process… what happened between you and I on the ski trip…”

“I didn’t mean for any of that stuff to happen… I—”

“I don’t really care what you meant to have happened,” Zach said back with a shrug. “You knew you weren’t my girlfriend, pretended to be anyways, and now she won’t talk to me.”

“Well, I don’t get why she’s upset with you when I’m to blame,” Zoey quipped back, earning a look from Zach.

“Don’t,” he shook his head at her. “Don’t try to make her out to be the bad guy here.”

“I’m not,” Zoey shook her head. “I’m just saying—”

“I don’t care what you’re saying, Zoey…” he sighed. He wiped his face with the palm of his hands and huffed frustratedly. “Look. It’s just a lot for her. First, she thought I ghosted her all weekend. Then, it looks to her like I had cheated on her, and then when she found out the truth, she hears that I was starting to feel things for you, and—”

“You were starting to feel things for me?”

He gave her an irritated glare when that was all she had heard from that.

“I love Y/N, okay?” he said to her sternly, using his hands to point to himself and then off to the side for emphasis. “Not you, not anyone else, just Y/N. Whatever fake relationship you and I had when I didn’t have my memories, that’s all it was, fake. You are not the Zoey I wanted.”

Zach looked away from her, and that was when he saw the back of your head, face pointed to the floor, as you sped-walked away into the building. He couldn’t tell if you had seen him and Zoey talking, but from the way you were walking so damn fast, maybe. Damn it. 

He turned back to Zoey, who had tears in her eyes. And he felt bad, because he didn’t enjoy making girls cry.

“Just…” for the umpteenth time, he sighed. “Just stay away from me and my girlfriend, I’m begging you.”

ᯓ⟢

taglist: @faephoria @maybankslover @ursogorgeous13 @khiatonsx @enchantedstarfish @starsmoonn @zulema222 @10ava01 @ietss @rafegf-real @leather-n-velvet t @avengersgirllorianna @chalahyung01 @thaissette @emberaurora @isabellaxlilah @matchieee @purplerose291 @wtfdudesblog @mattyskies @onlyrealjoy @sabrina6272827 @probablyreadingsmutlol @loupiotesworld @tqd4455 @persefone200 @dreamygirli3 @tobucina @h1ghw4y-blog @k-k0129 @harrys-housewife @pillowprincess4him

hoping all of these tags worked, some of them weren't popping up when i typed them! i've retyped them all by hand like 3 times, but each time i save it, it comes up as half of the list not actually tagged, so pls let me know if it tagged you!

[sweetieviktor]

viktor x librarian! reader (headcanons + tiny scenarios) part 2

summary: even before your relationship, heimerdinger already knew you and viktor liked each other. now, he wants to help to bring you two together.

content warning: fluff!! and a bit of language towards the end :D (it was written with s1 viktor in mind!)

author notes: im here again with the viktor and librarian! reader hcs, but it was so cute and i couldn't turn down the anon who sended me the request!! i really liked to write this (i mean.... you can see how much i liked, its pretty big lol) and i hope you like it too! (i recommend you read the part 1 before this, bcs you wont might understand some stuff since its on the first. well, here's the link for part 1!)

» being a librarian near piltover’s academy means that every time a student needed some book or document you might have, they would come to you. even professors.

you’ve seen the doors opening, but you didn’t see anyone standing there. you thought that maybe it was the wind, but soon you heard a voice coming from behind the reception desk. “hey, down there!” looking down, you recognized the owner of the voice, professor cecil b. heimerdinger.

“oh, i’m sorry, didn’t see you in there!’’, you rubbed the back of your neck, nervous, afraid considering that you had one of the most important people of piltover inside the library you work in. “well, how could i help you?”, you offered him a polite smile and he offered one of his, fur twitching up around the corners of his mouth.

“oh, you see, maybe you do have some old stuff, like-”

» after this, whenever he needed something, he would find himself already walking to your library. he often recommended the establishment for his students and pupils, making it a spot for study dates and scientific discussions. now, it was even harder to take breaks, the place was more crowded than it ever was. oh, you just wanted to hear what heimerdinger was wanting to say, about what had been happening at the academy or, even better, at the council, but, obviously, only the non-confidential stuff.

when your lunch break hit, you were finally able to come meet the professor, a normal occurrence every week. you could see his small figure waving and smiling, seated and already waiting for you at the cafeteria he likes. “hi, friend! i’ve ordered the usual for us,” he said while adjusting himself on his seat, “my assistant and one of my students are working together on... something. it's revolutionary, i could say, but very dangerous. i’ve already advertised them about it but they insist on doing it anyway,” he sighed, tidying the ends of his furry moustache, “and my assistant, specifically, wants to know if you have some old materials that could possibly help them.”

“oh, of course! it’s always a pleasure to help piltover’s geniuses.”

» next week, he showed up with the said assistant, viktor, and it was love at first sight. he was gorgeous and intelligent too. oh, dear janna, he was the perfect kind of guy. you eyes didn't catch how he was less confident than how normally he is, or the way he smiled at you, of course you didn’t, it was the first time you’ve met each other, but professor knew you both well enough to know something was going on. and he was correct when he said viktor would come in there often, because, indeed, he did. way too often for someone who was meant to be just a customer.

» sometimes, heimerdinger would stay in the library, pretending to read some book, only to observe how you and viktor interacted around one another. it was crystal clear how you liked each other, but were rather afraid to confess your feelings, so the yordle made it his personal mission to help you two to get together.

» and when you first sorted and stored some books for viktor based on what he was reading these past days, it was when it hit him that he might be liking you. and later, once he reached the academy again, jayce and heimerdinger already were waiting for him in the lab, both of them noticing how tense he was as soon as he opened the door.

“viktor, my boy, what happened?” the yordle said, making up space on the couch so his assistant could sit by his side. which he did, leaving the books on the table and his cane near himself, often rotating it around its own axis, just so he could occupy his mind with something that wasn't you.

“it's nothing, professor,” but he knew viktor was lying. the way he played with his cane, or how he wasn't looking at their eyes, it all made him seem more and more suspicious.

jayce came closer, sitting at the edge of his rotating chair, touching viktor's shoulder lightly, “hey, if something is happening, you can count on us,” his eyes full of empathy, looking at his friend, “whatever it may be.”

soon, it clicked for heimerdinger. his assistant just came back from the library, he had books on his hands and was visibly shaken. of course! how could he forget about the librarian? “i might have a theory why he is like this, jayce,” he chuckled, leaving viktor flustered and jayce confused. he met jayce's curious gaze, his own smile bringing a smirk to his pupil's face.

“and what would be that theory?”, jayce asked, thinking about all the possibilities of what had happened to get viktor like that.

“he is in love, boy.”

jayce smirk grew to a smile, then this smile turned itself into a full laugh, shaking his whole body, rubbing his hand over his face, trying to recompose himself. “i can't believe it!”, he was trying to hold his laugh, while viktor looked at him, completely serious.

“then don't,” viktor said, giving his friend a death stare.

jayce took a deep breath, never wanting to see this look again on viktor's face, adjusting his posture and continuing, “tell me, who is the lucky one?”

“i don't want to say it.”

“please?”

“fine! ehhh... do you remember the libra-”

“HA! I KNEW IT WAS THEM!”, jayce shouted, throwing his hands in the air, celebrating.

» from this day on, jayce and heimerdinger often gave viktor advices on how to win over your heart (because they had a lot of love experiences before, obviously). one day, heimerdinger suggested for him to bring over some coffee and pastries for you while you were working, he even recommended the ones he knew you liked, the usual you ordered in the cafeteria on your lunch breaks with him.

» so your not-a-date happened. people were talking loudly on the streets, but not a single client in. the natural light coming from across the windows giving the whole place even more of a cozy feeling, the light breeze was getting colder but the coffee he brought for you was keeping you warm. there was soft music playing in the background – most clients liked it since it helped them to focus, or so they said –, but you couldn't concentrate since he was looking at you, stealing glances from in-between pages, admiring you while you pretended to read, just like him. little did he know your heart was already on his hands.

» after a particular day, where you finally confessed to one another, exchanging your firsts “i love you's”, you both started to be spotted together a lot, usually at library or, like now, at piltover’s academy, bringing your boyfriend resources useful for him and for jayce too.

you knocked on the lab's door, receiving an answer from the other side, a muffled “come in” from someone you assumed was jayce. you then opened the said door, greeting jayce quickly while you walked towards a desk, leaving everything upon it.

heimerdinger was near viktor's workbench, helping him solve an equation, both totally focused on their tasks. when the tiny creature noticed you, he immediately came to you, “oh, friend, you're here! what brought you in there?”

“i've invited them,” viktor said, putting his goggles over his forehead, reaching for his cane and standing up, leaning on it. “i wished my, ehhh, partner knew my work place. besides, they also got me the books we needed, right?”, you nodded your head, gesturing to the desk where the books were placed on.

heimerdinger looked at them, then to viktor, to you and back at him, “oh... so, now you're partners?”, heimerdinger raised his brows, tilting his head to the side, “well, i knew it would happen sometime. i mean, ever since i’ve seen you both together, i knew you would be together,” he smiled, his fur turning up, “oh, friend, one day, me and jayce realized why he was acting so weird around us, just after one of his visits to the library, it was because-”, heimerdinger was talking excitedly, gesturing with big motions until viktor cut him.

“oh, please, professor. stop it,” viktor said, walking up to you and standing by your side. redness was spreading over his cheeks and ears, “there's no need to share any of this.”

“but you were-”

“professor,” you called, looking at him with apologetic eyes, “sorry to interrupt you but my break is going to an end in-”, you looked at the lab's clock, “fifteen minutes, i must go now.” you've met heimerdinger and jayce with a goodbye, then, getting closer to viktor, tidying his hair and adjusting his goggles over it so it won't fall over his golden eyes again, “see you later, vik. i would like to hear about any stories you might want to tell me,” you kissed his cheek, happy on how he blushed even more after the little display of affection, walking away and leaving the lab.

“you are in love!”, jayce said in between a laugh, pointing towards viktor.

“fuck you.”

“language, boy!”