#but i always feel like i have to Apologize

[euthymiya]

i adore you (can’t you see you’re meant for me?) — ft. sylus

sylus likes to sleep late in the mornings, and you like to admire him. the two are just a series of steps that bring you to where you are now: on top of him

— word count: 4.7k words — it’s literally all pure filth with no plot idk what to say atp

— before you read: female reader ; established relationship ; sleepy sylus ; banter and teasing ; reader rides his abs (do not look at me) ; praise kink (it goes both ways tbh) ; blow jobs ; cum eating ; reader has an obsession with his veins (it is her not me okay?) ; sylus wraps his hand around her throat (but no choking) ; body worship + one clit kiss ; nipple play ; morning sex ; unprotected vaginal sex ; creampie ; do not be fooled it is all pretty soft i promise

— comments: i am new to this game and i haven’t gotten too far go easy on me for this one :( i dedicate this to all my sylus loving nonnies in my inbox thanks for helping me figure out this game LOL. and kass. ily kass

Sylus sleeps more when the sun is out than when it’s not. You don’t mind it so much—not when the view is what it is.

(He’s pretty, and so is the sun. The two combined make for an even prettier picture. You think, if you weigh your options, there are certainly worse things out there than sitting beside your sleeping boyfriend and waiting for him to wake up.)

It’s hard to keep your hands to yourself, though. His hair is too tempting not to brush away from his face. And while your hand is right there, it’s a little impossible not to cup his cheek for a moment. And, well, if you’re already touching him, you might as well let your hand slide down to his chest and rub circles against the skin. He leans into your touch subconsciously anyway—it’s not hurting him. It’s helping.

(You like telling yourself plenty of things to justify your hand and his skin having an early morning rendezvous.)

“Bored, sweetie?” His voice is always deeper when laced with sleep than it usually tends to be. You stiffen, moving to pull your hand away, an apology already prepared on your lips for waking him when he catches your wrist, eyes still closed. “I didn’t say to stop, did I?”

“You’re ridiculous,” you huff, letting him guide your hand back to his bare chest. It rises and falls slowly, so warm and firm under your palm that it’s a little dizzying.

“Am I?” He cracks an eye open, “I was just enjoying a little tenderness. I wonder why I can’t ever seem to receive something so sweet when I’m awake.”

“Precisely this reason,” you say flatly. He raises a smug brow. Just to humor him, you add, “Your ego can’t handle it when you’re awake.”

“What, that you find me too irresistible not to touch?”

“Sylus, go back to sleep,” you grumble, shuffling away from him with a face that feels unbearably hot under his half-lidded gaze. “You’re easier to get along with that way.”

“I don’t know,” he all but purrs. In a swift motion—swift enough that you let out a shrill squeal—his hand tugs at your arm and pulls you close enough that he can hoist your body to sit on his lower belly. “We get along pretty well when we’re wide awake, don’t you think?”

His hand hikes up your (well, technically his) shirt and rests on your hip, nothing but the thin fabric of your panties separating you from him as you’re seated on top of him. You shiver lightly when his thumb caresses your hip bone, a satisfied hum pulling from his throat at the feeling of goosebumps rising against your skin. 

“Sylus,” you breathe, squirming over him—but you can’t say much else because you cut yourself off with a soft gasp when you hear the distinct sound of something tearing. 

Fabric. 

More specifically, your fabric. Your underwear—which was a rather nice pair too, you think woefully—is torn into two pieces, one held in Sylus’s hand like some form of victory, while the other falls against his belly with nothing holding it together around your hips. 

You blink. He gives you a large Cheshire grin.

“Sorry, sweetie,” he says, not so apologetically, “They were just in the way.”

“I liked those!” You hiss, glaring at him, “They were nice!”

“What, you don’t think I can buy you more? I could buy them faster than I could rip them, I’m sure.”

You have your doubts about that last part—but it’s still persuasive enough that you’re no longer as mad as you were just a moment ago. But you’re still petulant, pouting as you huff, “You ruin everything.”

“Mmh,” he hums, closing his eyes, voice still a low drawl from sleep as he says, “Are you sure? Because I can feel you dripping already, sweetheart.”

Shame floods your system quickly, but lust is faster. Stronger, too, perhaps—because you don’t have it in you to be ashamed for too long before you grow impatient. With a deeper pout, you press your hands against his chest, leaning lower until your mouth hovers over his. 

“Can you blame me?” You breathe against his lips. “Just look at you.”

He stiffens. Just barely, of course. Just enough that you can hardly even detect it, but you do. You do because you know him. And you know that when Sylus teases, it’s really just to deflect from his need to shift the attention to yours—like he doesn’t want you just as bad. Like he’s not just as hard as you are wet in his boxers. Like he doesn’t need to feel you just as badly as you need to feel him. 

But he likes to keep the upper hand. It starts with two hands on your hips, firmly squeezing them before slowly rocking them against his abs. Your bare cunt (courtesy of him destroying a perfectly good pair of panties) glides along the ridges and indents of his muscle. Very well-defined ridges and indents of muscle, too. You tense, letting out a shaky gasp as your clit rubs against his hard-planed physique. 

“If you like it so much, why stop at just a look?” He chuckles, “You’re more than welcome to feel, too, sweetheart.”

He’s so sickeningly proud of himself, you can’t help but think bitterly as soon as your hips start grinding against him of their own accord. He’s so pleased and amused and deeply content with the sight of you falling apart over him. His eyes are hungry, and they don’t stray away from you for a single second. They don’t miss a single twist in your expression, nor do they have the decency not to stare shamelessly at the image of where your pussy meets his midsection, where your slick pools and coats his skin and makes it glisten as you make a mess on him. 

He hums, large hands leaving your waist buried in their frames as they guide you at a slow, steady pace. “Bet that feels good, doesn’t it?” He grins—and oh, he’s aggravatingly happy as he laughs breathlessly, “You look like you’re about to fall apart. Don’t worry, I’m right here. You can’t fall far.”

You would say something smart if you could. Maybe even reach back and palm over his crotch that’s rudely tight against his boxers. But you can’t. Not when your clit rubs against his warm, heated skin and leaves jolts along your spine. All you can manage is a pathetic, “S-Sylus, please—”

“Oh? Please what? Please more?” He coos.

Something of a dull ache builds into this deep, throbbing need to feel your walls hug around something. To constrict around and latch onto something warm and big and full—something like him. Something like the way he fucks you into the mattress and makes you feel like he’s so deep in you, you can feel him in your throat. 

That’s what you want—but of course, you’re naive if you think that’s what he’ll give. For now, at least. For now, he’ll tease, and tease, and tease until he can watch you crumble just the way he wants to witness. And you’re close to that, too—you know it, and so does he. He can tell by the way your wetness drips onto him in a messy pool, making your cunt drag against him easier, smoother. He can tell because he can all but feel the quiver of your walls clenching around nothing, empty and desperate for some sort of building friction. And he can especially tell because of your face—that devastating look on your face when you’re so close to the edge you can just practically cling to it with the tips of your fingers as it dangles teasingly in front of you. 

“More,” you plead, “Want you. Want to feel you.”

“Oh, but you’re almost there,” he says in faux sympathy, soothing you with a sleepy, smug little grin. “Surely, you can take it just like this, can’t you? You’re better than that—I know you are.”

His words take you to the edge. You plummet off of it, in fact, practically collapsing against his chest as he holds you upright with a firm, strong grip and guides you through your orgasm. You gush around nothing, making a wet, sticky mess on his skin as you cum against him, grinding your clit as much as you can along every indent along his hard, built muscle. 

“Sylus,” you whimper, “oh—f-fuck.” Your body quivers for a few more moments before you slump against him, burying your nose into his neck. “You’re despicable,” you bite the skin lightly.

He laughs. It’s low from the sleep that’s still clinging to his voice but boyish enough that your heart skips a beat. “Am I? You seemed to enjoy it.”

You shuffle to curl into him more, but your leg brushes against the bulge in his underwear—a small, barely-there sound pulls from his throat. Something caught between a gasp and a moan that makes you pause before you grin against the crook of his neck.

“Guess I should pay you back, hm?” 

He watches, pupils dilated and eyes half-lidded as you pull away and kiss from his collarbone to his pecs. A rise of goosebumps litters his skin, too—just like they did on your skin earlier. You silently revel in that victory, making your way lower, lower, lower. But it’s painfully, obnoxiously, ridiculously slow. 

“Don’t be a tease, sweetie,” he hisses, grunting as you kiss down his torso, the well-defined muscle of his abs flexing under every touch of your lips. 

“Who, me?” You blink, batting your lashes sweetly, “Oh, I’d never, baby.”

Your lips graze over the skin that’s still marked with your essence as you kiss and suck along his torso, a trail of marks left in your wake and declaring him yours. You can taste yourself from just a few moments ago—the moments when you rocked your hips into him and fell apart, when he held you through it with a sleepy smirk. The image of his smug face makes you glance up at him with a flustered look, and almost as if he already knows, his gaze is on you. Waiting. Smug here in person just as much as he was in your memories.

“What a naughty thing,” he drawls, teasing glint in his eyes. “Did you get a taste of yourself? I’m sure now you have an idea of why I find it so…addictive, don’t you?”

He’s filthy. Cocky, too. And more often than not, he’s absurdly prepared with smart comments. Just to even the playing field a little, you decide he could use a little relentless teasing of his own. 

“Oh, I can think of a thing or two just as addictive,” you smile innocently—and just like that, you lean in to kiss against a pale, blue line across his porcelain skin, pulling away to admire the veins that mark his body. Something in you aches for him all over again—something that you don’t like to admit happens from just the sight of something like his veins. But you pay careful attention to them anyway, leaning down and pressing soft, feather-like kisses against his lower belly, feeling him stiffen tightly underneath you as his breath gets labored and slightly erratic.

He’s impatient. You glance down at him, cock hard and strained against his boxers, the beginnings of a wet patch dampening the skin from pre cum dribbling from his tip. You almost feel bad. 

Almost. 

“Don’t you ever get tired of your games?” He grits, involuntarily twitching his hips to chase some friction. 

“I could ask you the same question,” you snort. 

“Yet, it seems I’m always the one spoiling you,” he retorts. 

There’s some bit of merit to that, you suppose. So you give in, humming as you kiss along his v-line, one finger looping under his waistband while giving a small tug downwards. He lifts his hips instantly, letting you pull off the offensive piece of clothing that separates him from your touch. 

It’s flushed, his cock. Swollen, flushed with a pretty rosy shade at the tip, and glistening with leaking pre cum. You lean and give the thick vein along the underside a series of kisses tracing upwards before pressing a delicate one to his tip. He groans, and his cock twitches at the contact, his eyes fluttering closed as he bites his lip. 

“Pretty,” you observe, smiling softly at the sight of him. 

He scoffs, lips almost a pout as they curl into a frown. “Then do something about it,” he insists. 

You think you’ve sufficiently teased him enough, so you do—you take him into your mouth slowly, inch by inch, as your tongue and the wet heat of your mouth envelop him and make him tense for a moment before his body goes slack. A deep, throaty groan rings through the room, the sound making something do a flip in your lower belly. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, breathing heavily. “You…you’re so good at this.”

The praise does something to you that you’re not proud of. Some flash of an ache deep in your core that you don’t want to focus on, so you pay closer attention to him instead. Your tongue swirls over his tip as your head bobs up, tracing down that pretty vein of his as you take him down your throat once more. What you can’t fit in your mouth—because there is enough of him that you can’t fit in your mouth—you pump with your fist, wrapped around the base of his shaft. 

Sylus has a lot of veins. You admire them long enough to know them all by heart. The ones along his hands that you love to trace when you hold them in yours. The ones along his arm that you love to eye when he’s working out. The ones along his abdomen that you trace every once in a while with the tip of your finger when you have him to yourself in private. And the long, pretty one along this inner thigh—the one you see only when you’re like this: between his spread-out legs with your mouth around his cock. 

Your free hand moves to lay over this thigh, gently rubbing into the skin as if to anchor him as he throws his head back and groans. Your eyes are trained on him, staring up at the twists of pleasure in his expression and the crinkles in his eyes as he closes them tightly and moans. But you don’t have to look at your hand to know your thumb is tracing along that vein. You know it better than you know yourself, you think—his body is so easy to memorize. So easy to get to know and keep ingrained in your brain forever. 

His thigh flexes under your touch, and you hum around him, the vibrations around his length making his breath hitch as he curses under his breath. 

You pull away with nothing but a string of saliva connecting you to him, his eyes glancing down at you sharply for the interruption. But you smile, equal parts soft and equal parts smug. Gently, you press a wet kiss to his thigh, right over the same pale blue line you traced just moments ago, as you murmur, “You’re so pretty. You know that?”

“I’m flattered,” he says tightly, warily staring down at you with hungry, desperate eyes. “I’m sure you can save the flattery for later, though, can’t you?”

“But what if you think I’m just using you for your body?” You gasp dramatically, “Can’t have that, you know. I have to appreciate you more.”

“Teasing can easily be reciprocated, you know, sweetheart,” he grits, “Or have you forgotten that so quickly?”

“Oh, I’m aware. I’ll take my chances.” Your lips trail up his thigh until it reaches the base of his cock. You press another kiss against it, murmuring a quiet, “I love you.”

His cock twitches—it’s like it responds to every soft word of affection and every littlest bit of praise. For all the denying and for all the impatience, too, Sylus loves the attention. Thrives under it, even—it does something to his ego that you know you probably shouldn’t help stroke, but you can’t help it. 

You press one more kiss to his swollen tip before murmuring, “Mine,” and then you take him down your throat once more—faster this time. Your head bobs up and down his length, lips wrapped around him as you swallow every now and then. 

His hand flies to his hair, tugging at the soft, silvery strands as he groans deeply, hips pushing up to meet your pace and thrust deeper into your mouth. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” he hisses, “Just like that, sweetheart—shit.”

He spills down your throat not too long after. Warm, sticky ropes of cum that paint your mouth with every twitch of his cock, filling you enough that some spills from the corner of your mouth, dripping along your face and collecting at your chin. You swallow what you can, working him through his orgasm, listening to the sweet, lust-hazed sounds he makes as pleasure burns through every nerve of his body. 

He slumps back when he’s finished, panting with an arm over his eyes while you wipe your chin and swallow before climbing up his body and slumping on top of him. He wraps an arm around your waist instantly, humming lowly as his large, warm hand rubs into your lower back. 

“Had your fun?” He raises a brow. 

You grin cheekily, kissing his jaw as you murmur, “I think you had more fun than me, but what do I know?”

He chuckles. It’s low, and the sound vibrates through his chest so that you can feel it under you. There’s a small bead of sweat along his temple, and his face is flushed a soft shade of scarlet that you admire—it brings out the deep crimson of his eyes even more from here. 

“You’re so pretty,” you whisper. 

“How many times will you remind me of that?” He asks, bringing a hand to your chin, tilting your face up, and inspecting you carefully. “You’re making me feel bad. I haven’t reminded you how stunning you are nearly enough times.”

“You could always start now,” you wink, “It’s never too late.” He laughs again. Deep, genuine, soft. Sylus is a lot of things. You think your favorite is in love. 

“Do I really have to remind you?” He whispers, voice husky as he slowly shifts your body to lay under his, flipping you over as he hovers over you. “You don’t already know how beautiful you are—how you drive me insane?”

“A reminder wouldn’t hurt,” you blink innocently. “What if you’re secretly getting tired of me?”

His eyes flash with something dangerous at that. You only meant it as a joke, of course—he loves deeply. So deeply, you don’t think you’d escape him even if you wanted to. (Not that you do, of course. You’re quite happy knowing your place is beside him.) You know he’s never tired of you—quite the opposite, in fact. 

But you like teasing him. Getting under his skin enough that his hand moves to your throat and wraps around it firmly—not quite tight enough to block your air flow, but enough to serve as a light warning. 

“You think I would get tired of you?” He challenges. Offended. In disbelief. “Tired of this?”

Just like that, the familiar sound of fabric tearing rings through your ears again. It’s a sound you seem to be getting more and more used to the longer you date Sylus. And yet, every time, it pulls the same sound of disbelief from your throat as you gasp at his audacity. But before you can speak, before you can scold him for ripping your (his) favorite shirt straight off of your body, his hands curve around your tits, molding against them perfectly as if they were made to cup them. His thumbs roll over your nipples, humming in approval as you whine softly at the feeling. 

“Sylus,” you pant. (Regretfully, you think that’s the only collection of syllables you can manage anymore on this fine morning.) “W-wait—”

“Wait?” He pretends to gasp in shock, “But we’re just getting started. I was just about to show you all my favorite parts of you—they never get old. Would you like to see?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he leans down, latching his lips around one pebbled nipple, sucking and nipping lightly at it as his thumb rolls over and pinches the other one. Your back arches into his touch, a soft moan spilling from your lips as he grins against your chest. 

“Here’s a favorite, for starters,” he murmurs. “And here—” he kisses along your belly and makes his way to your hip bone, biting lightly at the flesh and making your breath hitch, “—this is certainly a memorable place too, isn’t it? Can’t keep my hands off of it.”

Finally, his hands slowly pull your legs apart, exposing the wet, dripping mess that is your cunt, folds puffy and waiting for him. He presses a soft, lingering kiss to your clit, smiling at the small whimper you let out from the sensitive touch before he says through a low, breathy whisper, “This, however…this has to be my favorite part of all.”

“Okay,” you whine, pulling at his arms with a plea, “I get it, okay? I need it, please.”

“Well then,” he huffs out a soft laugh, “Who am I to deny?”

He’s level with you before you can blink—mouth on yours with a heavy, heated kiss that sends your brain into a fogged state as you kiss back. All you can register is soft flesh, pressure against your mouth, the taste of his tongue on yours, and hot and heavy breath seeping into your lungs while he inhales yours. It’s slow, the way he kisses you—but still undeniably needy. He chases after your mouth as soon as you pull away to breathe, a soft gasp pushing past his throat at the loss of contact. As if it might kill him. As if he might die without your breath down his throat, keeping him alive. 

“Do you want it, sweetheart?” He breathes erratically, “Because I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

“I want it,” you practically beg, “I want you.”

He’s hard again—stiff between his legs and throbbing at your words enough that his cock does a little jerk on its own, like it’s responding to you itself. He drags it along your entrance, rolling slow circles against your folds and coating his tip in your slick, earning a sharp inhale from you as he groans at the teasing friction against the head of his cock.

“I always want you,” he breathes. 

He pushes past your folds as he speaks the words against your mouth, letting you swallow up the low moan he lets out as your walls wrap around him little by little. It’s painstakingly slow. Inch after inch after inch until the blunt head of his length presses deep into you, nudging against a soft, sensitive spot in your walls that makes your whole body react with a quiver. He curves into you perfectly, thick and deep and so, so full. 

“Ready?” He smiles tenderly, gripping the fat of your thighs and hooking them around his waist, leaning to kiss one of your knees as you melt into the mattress and nod. 

“Please,” you whine, “Need it—need you.”

There’s a sharp thrust of his hips at that—he pulls out until he’s almost completely left your warm cunt before slamming back in past your folds, pressing mercilessly against your sensitive spot. It’s partly because he has your body memorized but mainly because his body is practically made to mold into you. It’s like he fits you perfectly, curves into the shape of your body like the shape of his was hand-made to pair with yours. 

When Sylus fucks you is when you see past his exterior the most. When his eyes hold the most emotion, staring at you like he can’t believe you’re his. When his hands shake for once because he doesn’t know if he deserves the weight of you in his hold. When his breath is the most labored and uncontrolled because you steal every breath from his lungs, and selflessly, he gives up air for you. When sweat coats his skin and makes his hair cling to his forehead because when he loves you is when his body is most responsive, most affected. 

When Sylus fucks you is when you love yourself most. Because how could you not when he pays such close attention to you? Thumb finding your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles just the way he knows drives you crazy, watching your face closely for every reaction? How could you not when close is not nearly close enough, when he presses his chest against yours and buries his face into your neck to all but melt under your skin? It makes you feel desirable. Beautiful. Lovable. 

So easy to want.

So easy to lose control to.

So easy to need. 

“You feel that, don’t you?” He mumbles, panting harshly as he grunts when you squeeze around him at the sound of his labored voice. “Feel me? How badly I need you? How crazy you drive me? Feel how hard I am for you? Don’t tell me you think I’d ever get tired of that.”

“I know,” you whine, “I know, I know, baby—I promise.”

You let out a small squeal when he angles your leg higher, thrusting deeper into your cunt, pressing harshly where you need him most with his tip in a dizzyingly punishing pace and a harshly rough deepness that makes your vision blur. Almost go blank, even.

“Tell me you love me,” he demands.

“I love you!”

“Tell me you need me,” he adds, so selfish and needy for your approval. To know you’re nothing without him like he’s nothing without you. 

“N-need…fuck, I need you,” you stumble over your words as your orgasm comes closer and closer, creeping up on you enough that you can’t catch your breath fast enough to keep up with him.

“Tell me you’re mine.” This time, it comes out as almost a plea.

“Yours,” you sob, body on the precipice of breaking all over again, “Yours, yours, yours.”

You cum as soon as you say it. Harder than maybe ever—it’s like being reminded that you’re his makes your body react tenfold. You fall apart with a shrill cry of his name, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a bruising kiss as your nails press indents into his skin. 

He groans in pleasure at the slight pain, melting against your lips, an open-mouthed, wet kiss working him up to his own orgasm. His first one was a slow build-up—but this one happens quickly, coming out of nowhere and hitting him full force, his hips stuttering for a moment and losing rhythm as he sloppily thrusts into you. 

Yours. Yours. Yours. 

Your voice rings in his ears, aiding him through his pleasure as he fucks his thick, sticky release deep into your folds, sharp thrusts that match the harsh twitching of his cock. 

“Ngh,” he grunts, “Sh-shit, sweetheart.”

Finally, when you’re both done, breaths frenzied and harsh as you try to make up for the lost air in your lungs, he slumps over your body and hides his face into the crook of your neck, practically purring as your shaky hand buries into his sweaty locks and strokes the soft, silvery strands. 

It’s quiet, just the sound of your breathing eventually shifting from heavy to slowed as you finally catch it, the quivering of your body dissipating, too. Your fingers journey their way from his scalp to the back of his neck, lightly making a feather-soft trail along his bare back as he shivers from the touch.

“Don’t fall asleep after I showed you a good time,” you pout, “It’s rude.”

“You were the one that woke me for a good time,” he mumbles, amused. “That’s equally as rude.”

“I did not,” you huff, “You were the one who escalated it. I just wanted a peaceful morning.”

“I don’t know,” he grins against your skin, pressing a chaste, warm peck where it's closest to his lips, “I’m feeling pretty at peace, wouldn’t you agree?”

so uh..........basically i got the card where u measured him for clothes and i saw a vein in his abs and lost my mind. so. here is the product of that. i REFUSE to be told this is not a completely totally normal reaction. thank you!

[my-castles-crumbling]

first love - @wolfstarmicrofic - word count: 395

The air is quiet as Sirius passes Harry another tissue, squeezing his Godson's shoulders while he blows his nose and wipes at his eyes.

"First loves are difficult, Haz," Remus murmurs sagely from Harry's other side, squeezing his knee and giving him a reassuring smile. "I know it feels awful, now, but Sirius and I are here for you, and it'll get better. Promise."

"How long did it take you both to get over your first loves, then?" Harry asks a bit desperately. He's been crying for a good twenty minutes, now, and it seems he's welcoming the distraction.

Sirius frowns at the question, but Remus seems to be ready with an answer. "It was a summer thing for me," the tallest man says, shrugging. "I think I always knew it would end, so I was prepared for it. It hurt, but I was okay with it."

Harry nods in understanding. "Yeah, Ginny and I...I new we would end, but it still..." his lip quivers as he holds back tears. All Sirius can do is squeeze his shoulder harder. "And you, Sirius? How long did it take you, then?"

But Sirius still has no answer. Because, honestly, he never had to get over his first love. "I...I'm afraid you're not going to like my answer, Harry," he says sheepishly, pulling back a bit. "That is, I don't really have one to give."

"Oh, come on," Remus cuts in, looking a bit annoyed. "Don't pretend like you're made of steel. You took a bit to get over McKinnon! And MacDonald!"

But Sirius just laughs at that. "They weren't my first loves. Neither of them. It sucked a bit when we broke it off, yeah, but...It's always been you, Moons. What I felt for them...it wasn't a tenth of what I always have felt for you. You were my first love. And, hopefully, my last."

The look Remus gives him them holds so many emotions. Sirius wants to dive into the depths of his husband's adoring stare.

"That doesn't help me feel better at all, you know," Harry pipes up, rolling his eyes.

"Aww, sorry, Prongslet!" Sirius apologizes, pulling Harry into another hug. "Though with the way you look at Lucius Malfoy's son, I wouldn't be surprised of you look back and find you feel the exact same way about him that I do about Moony."

"Oi!"

[little-jana]

"Innocent Accident"

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x f!reader

Genre: heated, smutty, 18+, no explicit s*x

Warnings: kissing, touching

Words: 2.2k

Summary: After accidently sending an after fitness selfie to Hotch, month worth of tension breaks.

It all started with one stupid mistake. One accidental slip that I would never live down.

I’d been lounging on my couch after work, still in my yoga leggings and sports bra, scrolling through my phone while waiting for dinner to heat up. My best friend and I had been texting back and forth, and she’d demanded proof that I hadn’t completely abandoned my fitness goals over the holidays.

Reluctantly, I snapped a quick mirror selfie. It was harmless enough—just me standing in the warm light of my apartment, flushed from the workout but still looking decent. I attached it to the text, added a sarcastic caption, and hit send.

Except… I didn’t send it to my best friend.

I sent it to Aaron Hotchner.

My stomach dropped as soon as I realized what I’d done. My finger hovered over the screen as if I could magically pull the message back through sheer force of will. But it was too late.

Aaron Hotchner, my boss, the stoic leader of the BAU, the man who had perfected the art of the unreadable expression, now had a picture of me in workout gear on his phone.

My phone buzzed almost immediately, and my stomach twisted into knots as I opened the message.

Hotch: “I think this may have been sent in error.”

I wanted to scream. Or cry. Or throw my phone into a fire. Instead, I typed back quickly, my fingers trembling: “Oh my god. Hotch, I’m so sorry. That wasn’t meant for you.”

Three dots appeared as he typed, and I held my breath.

Hotch: “No need to apologize. Accidents happen.”

That was it. Short, professional, and completely devoid of emotion. Exactly what I should have expected from him. And yet, something about the message left me uneasy.

The next day at work was unbearable.

Hotch was calm and composed as always, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that his eyes lingered on me a little longer than usual. Every time he walked into the room, my pulse quickened, and I felt like I was walking on a tightrope.

I avoided him as much as possible, diving into my work with single-minded focus. But by midday, I knew I couldn’t keep it up.

“Y/N,” his deep voice called from across the bullpen. “Can I see you in my office for a moment?”

My heart leapt into my throat as I nodded, forcing myself to look calm even though my nerves were screaming.

When I stepped into his office, he closed the door behind me, and I suddenly felt very aware of how small the space was.

“Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the chair across from his desk.

I sat down, folding my hands in my lap to keep them from shaking.

“I just wanted to check in,” he began, his tone gentle. “You’ve seemed… distracted today.”

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “I’m fine. Really.”

He studied me for a moment, his dark eyes piercing. “Are you sure?”

The weight of his attention was almost too much to bear. My cheeks flushed, and I looked away, fumbling for a response. “I guess I’ve just been… embarrassed about the text,” I admitted finally.

“Y/N,” he said softly, leaning forward slightly. “You don’t need to feel embarrassed. It was an innocent mistake.”

His voice was calm, reassuring, but there was something else in his expression—something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

“I appreciate that,” I said quietly, still avoiding his eyes. “But it’s hard not to feel… self-conscious.”

There was a pause, and then he spoke, his voice lower now, almost a murmur. “For what it’s worth, you looked… strong. Confident.”

I blinked, my heart skipping a beat. Of all the things he could have said, I hadn’t expected that.

His gaze didn’t waver, and I felt a flush creep up my neck as the silence stretched between us.

“Thank you,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” he said, his tone softening further. “You’re intelligent, capable, and… you’re harder on yourself than you deserve.”

The air between us seemed to shift, growing heavier with each passing moment. I couldn’t look away from him now, my pulse racing as his words sank in.

“Aaron…” I said softly, not even realizing I’d used his first name until it was out of my mouth.

Something flickered in his expression—surprise, maybe, or something deeper. He leaned back slightly, as if trying to put distance between us, but his eyes never left mine.

“You should get back to work,” he said finally, his voice quiet but firm.

I nodded, standing on shaky legs. “Right. Of course.”

As I turned to leave, his voice stopped me.

“Y/N.”

I turned back, my hand still on the door handle.

“For what it’s worth,” he said, his expression unreadable now, “you have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Over the next few days, the tension between us became impossible to ignore.

Hotch kept his professional demeanor, but I couldn’t miss the way his eyes lingered on me when he thought I wasn’t looking, or how his voice softened just a fraction when he spoke to me. It was subtle, but it was there.

For my part, I was a mess. My thoughts were a jumble every time he entered the room, my pulse racing as I replayed his words over and over in my mind.

By the third day, the tension had reached its breaking point.

It was late. Most of the team had already left, and the bullpen was eerily quiet. I’d stayed behind to finish up some lingering paperwork, hoping the monotony would distract me from the mess of emotions swirling inside me.

But then, as if the universe had decided to toy with me, Hotch appeared. His presence was unmistakable—the sound of his polished shoes on the tile floor, the way the air seemed to shift when he was near.

“Still here?” he asked, his tone deceptively casual, though his eyes told a different story.

I nodded, looking up at him. “I could ask you the same thing.”

He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze lingering on me. Finally, he gestured toward his office. “Can I see you for a moment?”

My heart thudded in my chest as I followed him, my nerves thrumming with an anticipation I couldn’t quite name. He closed the door behind us, the quiet click of the lock making the room feel even smaller.

He turned to me, his expression unreadable. But his voice—it wasn’t his usual, measured tone. It was deeper, rougher, laced with something I couldn’t ignore.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he said suddenly, his words cutting through the silence.

I blinked, startled. “Doing what?”

“This,” he said, gesturing vaguely between us. “Pretending there’s nothing here. Pretending I don’t feel this… pull every time I’m near you.”

My breath caught in my throat, his words leaving me speechless.

“I’ve tried to ignore it,” he continued, his voice softening but no less intense. “For weeks. Months. But it’s only gotten worse.”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my ears. “Aaron…”

The sound of his name on my lips seemed to break something in him. In two strides, he closed the distance between us, his hands cupping my face as his lips crashed against mine.

It wasn’t tentative or hesitant—it was hungry, desperate, like he’d been holding back for far too long. My hands found their way to his chest, clutching at his shirt as he pressed me back against the door, his body warm and solid against mine.

The kiss deepened, and I could feel the tension that had been building between us for days—weeks—finally snapping. His hands moved down, gripping my waist as he pulled me closer, his touch firm and possessive.

When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing heavily, our foreheads resting against each other as we tried to catch our breath.

“This is reckless,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “But I can’t seem to care.”

I smiled, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “Then don’t.”

His lips found mine again, slower this time but no less intense. His hands slid up to tangle in my hair, tilting my head back as he deepened the kiss, his control slipping further with every passing second.

“Aaron,” I whispered, the sound of his name sending a shiver through him.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his dark eyes searching mine. “Tell me to stop,” he said softly, his voice almost pleading. “If this isn’t what you want—”

“It is,” I interrupted, my voice firm despite the breathlessness. “It is.”

That was all the confirmation he needed. He kissed me again, and this time there was no hesitation, no restraint. His hands moved to my hips, lifting me effortlessly onto his desk as he stepped between my legs, his body pressing against mine in a way that left no room for doubt.

The next few minutes were a blur of heat and urgency, of whispered names and stolen breaths. I’d never seen him like this—so undone, so raw—and it only made me want him more.

When we finally pulled apart, our lips swollen and our breathing ragged, he rested his forehead against mine, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“This changes everything,” he murmured, echoing his earlier words.

“Good,” I whispered back, my fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest. “Because I don’t want to go back to pretending.”

He kissed me again, softer this time but no less fervent, his hands cradling my face like I was something precious. And in that moment, I knew—this wasn’t just a breaking point. It was a beginning.

[midnight-fox-boy]

It's so so important to think about this, too. Sometimes the closure you want isn't possible, and sometimes the closure you want isn't what you need or puts your safety at risk.

Of course it's normal to want to know "why?". But you'll find that a lot of the time, the answer isn't rational or may not even have a tangible reason.

Something that helps me is by thinking about the situation from the angle of "what do I think could have contributed to this person acting this way?" Nothing is an excuse, but by understanding their motivation and history, it can make it easier to move on.

Like for example if someone hurts me really badly and they have a known history of trauma related to how they hurt me, naturally I'll assume they're projecting their own pain and need help so they don't hurt anyone else. This way I can make an educated guess without feeling that strong need to seek closure.

You'll probably never get an apology or acknowledgement of the pain they caused, and it sucks and hurts, but moving forward is the best service you can do for yourself and the best thing you can do to say "lol F you" to the people who hurt you. Moving on and being happy despite what they've done to you is the biggest form of revenge. Because chances are, they're miserable inside and probably always will be unless they actually get the help they need.

It took a lot for me to mature enough to accept a lot of the time you just don’t get closure like ill never understand why certain things happened or ever receive an apology or talk to certain people again or know the answers to questions I can’t ask and people die or leave or drift away sometimes and there’s no answer. and this is actually starting to sound like some doomer shit but im not joking when i say it actually became way easier to move on with my life when I accepted sometimes things will just be left wrong and can’t be made right and there’s no point in wasting any more of my time on it

[hyunsuloves]

can we get more myung gi/ player 333 oneshots/hcs plsss (if u can)💕💕

boyfriend myung-gi in the games.

warnings … there may be some typos, i apologize

lovely notes … ask & you shall receive ml 🙂‍↕️

꩜ [ 600 words ]

boyfriend myung-gi who cherishes the small moments with you. the moments after games, moments right before lights out, and even the minuscule moments like when he makes direct eye contact with you from across the room.

boyfriend myung-gi who lets you get in line before him because you’re his top priority, always.

boyfriend myung-gi who always gives you a share of his food. he doesn’t care about you saying you “don’t want it”, he insists that you stay more fed than him. he’ll put your well-being before his every time.

boyfriend myung-gi who is wary of all the other contestants, even more with you in the games with him. he doesn’t trust them, nor does he want you to blindly trust them.

boyfriend myung-gi who makes a silent vow to himself to protect you at the start of every game. he puts your welfare before his every time, so he will defend you with his entire life.

boyfriend myung-gi who always has a vice grip on your hand. whether you’re in a game, waiting to vote, or doing something so mundane such as sitting next to one another. he likes to feel you at all times, it anchors him in a way

boyfriend myung-gi who squeezes your hand just a bit tighter when thanos or nam-gyu walks by. they’re the last people he wants to get near either of you, so of course he feels a need to protect you.

boyfriend myung-gi who always moves your head to rest on his shoulder when sitting next to one another. or he places his head to rest on your lap. he just wants to be near you, is all.

boyfriend myung-gi who always wakes up before you. you sleep in his bed, and he can’t help himself but wake up a few hours before you. he enjoys the mere moments when he can have you in his arms without any concerns.

boyfriend myung-gi who’s the first to acknowledge you when you walk into a room. his eyes immediately shift to you when he’s in the same vicinity as you. it was like a magnetic force pulled his eyes to you every time.

boyfriend myung-gi who covers your eyes when other participants die. if possible, he’s going to shield you from the horror that is the reality of the death game you’re in. the last thing he wants you to see is lifeless bodies dropping left and right.

boyfriend myung-gi who randomly says “i love you”. he wants to remind you of his unwavering love all the time, of course.

boyfriend myung-gi who’s only level-minded around you. you’re the only one who can ground him because god knows how unbalanced he’d get without you.

boyfriend myung-gi who’s constantly near you during every game. red light, green light? you’re behind him. six-legged pentathlon? you’re obviously on the same team as him. mingle? you’re in every single group with him. other participants may see it as clinginess, but both of you see it as myung-gi protecting you with his everything.

boyfriend myung-gi who would quite literally fall to his knees if you got injured. he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if you got wounded under his observation.

boyfriend myung-gi who has the most extravagant plans for when the both of you get out of the games. he has dozens of date plans just for when you make it out.

boyfriend myung-gi who sometimes feels like he doesn’t deserve you. you’re the only constant in the cruelty that you both found yourselves in. and he feels so undeserving of you and your tenderness so often.

[beloveds-embrace]

https://www.tumblr.com/beloveds-embrace/769747896273862656/im-sorry-did-you-say-neglected-omega?source=share

You can't just drop that bomb on us. I feels like I should sue u for emotional damage

I very kindly request some fluff with this 🙏🙏

Can i be 🦋 anon? Pretty pretty please

if i got sued for emotional damage each time I fear i’d have to declare bankruptcy 😭 but ne ways, here you go 🦋 anon! <3

The room still smells faintly of a sour, lonely heat, even weeks later. No matter how many times Gaz scrubs the floors or Price washes the sheets (when you are not there yourself, with your own permission because for all that you wanted to just… keep them away, you had no strength or will to clean the room. That was the only inch you were willing to give), the scent lingers- a sharp reminder of everything they let happen.

Everything they let you go through alone.

They’re careful around you now. Slow. Quiet. Desperate not to spook you, not to push you any further away than they already have. But the distance is unbearable. It feels like walking on glass, and no matter how hard they try to reach you, you stay just out of reach.

So they simply try harder.

Price leaves things outside your door- practical, thoughtful things. Your favorite snacks, warm socks, a thermos of tea that stays hot for hours. Quiet gestures that let you know he’s paying attention. Sometimes he sits outside your room, low voice rumbling through the wood as he tells you about his day. Nothing important, just pieces of himself- things he’s never given anyone else.

Soap is softer, but more desperate.

He leaves drawings, slips them under your door like little apologies. Sketches of you smiling, of the pack piled together, happy and whole. There’s always a note attached.

I’m sorry, bonnie.

Please let me fix this.

And then one day, he spots one of them taped to your wall.

It’s small, but it’s something. It’s enough to lighten his heart just a little, giving him a sliver of hope.

Gaz doesn’t say much, but he does.

He cooks for you, warm homemade meals left outside your door. He waits, heart twisting every time the plate is left untouched. But then one morning, the food is gone, and he has to duck into an empty room so no one sees his reaction. He’d been so stressed seeing you thinner than he remembered, not eating as much as you should’ve, but he feels so, so much better when the plates he leaves you are cleared- eaten, and not just picked at.

Ghost doesn’t know how to fix this with words, so he doesn’t try. .

Instead, he sharpens your knives. Fixes the drafty window. Reinforces your bedframe even if all he wants is for you to return to them, to their nest. Leaves a scarf that smells like him. Little things, pieces of himself, pieces of his devotion.

Because even if you never let him close again, he needs you to know

He’s not leaving. He almost doubts himself, lets his fears cloud his judgement, until he sees the scarf around your neck one day.

It’s slow. God, it’s so slow, but they persist and don’t give up. Never even consider it for one precious second, not when it’s you they could lose.

But one night, Price finds you in the kitchen wearing his jacket.

You freeze when you see him, and for a second, he thinks you’ll run.

You stay.

“…It’s late.” You whisper, shuffling your feet. He smells your hesitance, your worries and fears, and hopes the distance he keeps soothes you. The thought of you feeling like that because of him… it leaves the taste of ash coating his throat.

“So it is.”

And yet, you don’t leave. You don’t push him away, or pull back when he slowly walks closer towards you. You just look at him, eyes tired and sad and-

It’s not forgiveness, when you let him gently caress the back of his hand against your cheeks.

But it’s a start.

[babejinxy]

In love with you - part 3

Pairing: Powder x fem!reader

Warnings: friends to lovers, SMUT, kissing, fluff

Synopsis: Powder had been your best friend for years, the two of you met when she was running from the cops when she and her brothers broke into and blew up an apartment in Piltover and you helped them escape. What you never imagined, is that the love of your life was always right there in front of you…

A/N: This is a fic about Powder from the alternate universe, it has nothing to do with Jinx.

🌟 English is not my first language, so I apologize if there are any mistakes.

Part 1 Part 2

💙 @brocoliisscared @bbybubbles @cattjull

You went after Powder who was leaving the last drop, “hey Powder, wait a minute”, you called her and she stopped looking at you with a frown and crossed her arms. “Look, I'm sorry okay? I should have told you, I know you're mad but…”, you didn't have time to finish because she interrupted you, “I'm not just mad, I'm upset too… why...Why her Y/n?”. She actually wanted to ask, “Why anyone else and not me?”, but she held herself back, she wasn’t ready for that, maybe she was too scared for that.

What would you tell her? That you still loved Cait? Maybe you did, or did you think so? Would you say that you were confused and didn't really know how you felt, or would you just say that you couldn't be alone for too long? Yes, your best friend knew all of this, she knew about your potential to easily give yourself to anyone because... because you had this fear of ending up alone, this fear of not being good for anyone, the fucking fear that no one would ever be able to love you.

“I went out with her last week, we went out to dinner and then we went to her house, it’s just… a casual encounter is no big deal.” If you knew how you were breaking Powder’s heart into a million little pieces at that moment, you would definitely condemn yourself.

“It’s not a big deal?”, she said perplexedly opening her arms, “Y/n we’re talking about the girl who cheated on you, she hurt your feelings, if you don’t remember how you felt at the time I do, I comforted you… your whole life I was the one who was by your side and not her, I’m the person who would never leave you alone, never”.

You approached her and held her hands, “I know and that’s why I’m so grateful to have you in my life, you’re my best friend Pow Pow, I love you and I don’t know what I would do without you.” She squeezed your hands in hers, knowing that you loved her in some way meant a lot to her. “I just want to see you happy, I don't like Caitlyn sorry honey, but I don't like her especially after what she did to you.” You started to wonder, “why is it so hard to find someone like Powder?”, someone like her would never hurt you, she was wonderful, but she was your best friend.

“You know Y/n, you deserve someone who likes you just the way you are, someone who knows how to value you, someone who knows how lucky they are to have you, you know someone who… who wakes up every fucking day and says “holy shit, I’m dating Y/n and no one else in the world is that lucky only me”, do you understand that?”.

You felt like crying. Powder always made you feel special. She was the only person who made you see your own worth. You held back your tears and pulled her into a tight hug. You felt her wrap her arms around your waist and hold you close. She was so close to your face, she just needed to move a little more and her lips would be on yours.

You pulled away from her, “Thank you for that, sometimes I need someone to remind me of that.”

“Yes, I know… and I’ll always be here to make sure you don’t forget.” She smiled and caressed your cheek with her thumb. fuck she wanted so badly to drag you to the dark corner and kiss you right now, maybe you would kiss her back, maybe you two would reveal your feelings, then she would take you to her house and taste you, maybe she would…

“Oh there you are,” Ekko’s voice took her out of her reverie and you looked at him - who you soon noticed was sad - Powder rolled her eyes and put her hands on her waist, he always appeared to interrupt the moment and that was already making her irritated.

Ekko approached you and held out his hand handing you a piece of paper folded in half. “Someone wants me to give this to you,” he said, his voice still dejected, he didn’t look at Powder once. You took the paper and frowned, “what is this?” you asked. “I have no idea, a guy asked me to give this to you, and before you ask, I don’t know who the guy is either, I’ve never seen him around here before.”

You were a little confused, curious and at the same time worried that this could be something serious, but Powder knew exactly what it was, some guy at the bar flirting with you and wanting to buy you a drink, how she wished she could tell all of them that you were not available because you were hers. “Well, good night girls,” Ekko walked away from you two and continued on his way with his head down.

You ignored the note for a second and looked at your friend, “You dumped him, right?” You were referring to Ekko. She shrugged, “Sort of… but he wasn’t like this when we got here.” You curled your lips, “So what happened?” She had a hunch that maybe he noticed her advances on you, but she couldn’t tell you that.

“You really don’t like him, do you?” you asked curiously. “He’s just my friend, the fact that I went out with him once doesn’t change anything… wouldn’t you go out with any of your friends?” You didn’t quite understand the question, you didn’t know if she wanted you to answer or if it was just a rhetorical question. In fact this was just a way to know what you would say even though she was afraid of the answer.

You thought for a second, you never went out with any of your friends, maybe because you liked them just as friends, maybe you just needed to think a little more or just look at Powder right in front of you before saying what you said. “I wouldn’t go on a date with any of my friends, those things rub the friendship”.

Powder felt a tightness in her heart, maybe after that the best thing to do was for her to try to get over you and have you just as her best friend, but how would that be possible when you were her dream? And every day that passed, this passion for you only grew and took over her every second she spent by your side. “Well, I guess it depends on how both feel about each other,” she said finally.

“Yeah, maybe… I mean… no,” you closed your eyes, getting confused about your words, “I don’t think it’s that simple… anyway, let’s see what’s here?” you said, opening the piece of paper in your hands as quickly as possible, ignoring your heart beating erratically once again. Of course you blamed it on your anxiety to read what was written on the note Ekko handed you.

You unfolded the paper and Powder approached you to read what was written, you read it out loud, “Hey pretty girl, I've been eyeing you all night, can I buy you a drink?”, you were holding back from laughing, Powder on the other hand, wasn't very comfortable with it, “if you accept, I'm the guy sitting alone at the table on the right corner, I'll wait for you”.

You looked at your friend and laughed, “These guys don’t know when to stop,” she said crossing her arms. “Oh come on, you’re just jealous because I got the note and you didn’t,” you laughed, mocking her. “Pssh, as if,” she said, pushing your arm away slowly. “He might be cute,” you said, looking at the note. Powder felt her body boil with jealousy, but she held herself back. “Do you want to go back there and see if he’s still there? If he is, I won’t judge him.” As she said this, her eyes widened and she looked at you from the corner of her eyes, a chill ran down her spine, how could she have let that out loud?

You looked at her with furrowed eyebrows, “Of course not,” you said, crumpling the note and throwing it behind you somewhere. “Tonight I want to have fun with my best friend, without any disloyal ex-girlfriends or barflirts, just you and me… our sleepover, remember?” You held out your hand to her. Surely if she could, she would grab you and kiss you right now. But instead, she took your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours.

“Part three of the night: braids in your hair,” you said laughing. “Okay, you’re silly,” she said pulling you closer to her, wrapping her arms around your waist…

˖ ݁���� ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁

It's been three days since the day you went to the movies with Powder and Ekko. You've had time to think about what Powder had said about Cait and you've been ignoring her calls ever since. Today was Saturday, the day of the party in Zaun at The Last Drop. You got ahead on your academy work and told your parents that you couldn't attend their party because you had work to finish.

It was night and you were finishing getting ready for the party when your hexphone vibrated and it was a message from Cait, you read it in the notification bar,

“Hey princess, sorry to be insistent, but I'm not going to give up on you... I'm sorry for what I did to you, I can fix things, give me a chance to change everything. Please give us a second chance. Are you going to your parents' party? I hope so! I need to see you! I still love you baby, don't forget that.”

You couldn’t say it didn’t affect you. Powder was right in what she said before, but what if Cait had changed? What if she really still loved you? People make mistakes and fuck things up, but they’re also capable of change, aren’t they?

For a minute you thought you could go to your parents’ party to talk to Cait. But then you looked at the picture frame on your dresser that held a picture of you and Powder and you knew in that exact moment that she was the one you were supposed to be with tonight. You didn’t know why you felt this way, or why your heart was beating so fast inside your chest. You and Powder had been friends for years and you had been with her countless times, but tonight felt different. You didn’t know why, but you felt like you had to be with her.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁

You went to Powder's workshop - where you knew she would be - and found her in front of the mirror grumbling about not being able to get her eyeliner right, she didn't even notice you had come in.

“Do you need help with that?” She immediately looked in your direction and glanced at your short white layered mini skirt and your low-cut silver top that really showed off your beautiful round breasts. “Damn,” she thought.

You approached her and took the eyeliner pen from her hand, “ok, head up, eyes closed,” you said standing between her legs - she was sitting on a stool in front of the mirror - she did as you said and you held her face while you applied the eyeliner to her right eye.

She was clasping her hands together, she wanted to hold your waist, in fact she wanted you to sit on her lap while you fixed her makeup, she had dreamed about this so many times. Your soft tickle on her skin, your scent taking over the entire space, fuck she just couldn't take it anymore. Then she raised her hands and held your waist and you didn't care at all.

“Ok, I think this is good, you like it?”, you got out from between her legs and she took her hands off your waist, turning on the stool to look at herself in the mirror. “I couldn’t have done it better,” she said, admiring her eyeliner—now perfect—thanks to you.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁

Arriving at the party, you two joined Claggor and Mylo. ​​“Hey, Y/n, I’m glad you came,” Mylo said, laughing awkwardly as he scratched the back of his neck. “So… do you want to dance? Or have a drink?” Before you could answer, Claggor elbowed him and then looked at Powder furtively. Mylo had irritated her, in every way, since they were kids. Of course she loved him, but to her he was a jerk and she knew he had no chance with you, so she wasn't bothered by his advances towards you. “Maybe later,” you finally replied.

You looked around and saw Gert passing by carrying a tray with drinks, your gaze met hers and she gave you a mischievous smile, you smiled back and looked down, you thought she was a very pretty girl.

After a while, Powder went to talk to Vender and you were alone for only half a minute until you heard a female voice behind you, “I thought it was impossible for a girl like you to not be accompanied, but since you're not, lucky for me then”, you turned around and came face to face with Gert. “Be careful, I might be alone for a reason,” you said smiling. “What reason?” she asked, tilting her head and looking from your lips to your eyes. “I might be a heartless lunatic who hurts everyone I come into contact with,” you joked. She curled her lips, “You’re worth the risk, doll,” she said, grabbing a strand of your hair.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁

While you flirted with Gert, Powder leaned against the counter and watched you smiling and letting Gert touch your arms, hair, hands... every party ended like this, you met someone, started dating that person and it wouldn't last more than three months and you would suffer from the lack of someone you didn't even like that much just to make up for the lack of self-love that you should have and didn't have or for the fear of ending up alone.

She wished didn't love you so much, she wanted to see you as just her best friend, but you were so much more than that and it hurt her every day. If you only knew that these people would never love you like she does...

Powder was so distracted looking at you that she didn't notice when Vender leaned next to her on the counter, but he was inside. "Why don't you ask her to dance?" he asked, making the blue-haired girl jump in fright. “What? No! Why would I do that?”, she said, frowning in an attempt to hide it. Vender smiled, “I know that look, you like her.” Powder’s heart could jump out of her mouth at any moment. “She’s my best friend, of course I like her,” she laughed nervously. “Powder…”, she took a deep breath, she knew there was no point in denying it, Vender knew.

“Is it that obvious?”, she asked, still looking at you. “Why don’t you tell her?”, she took her eyes off you and looked at Vender with a frown, “Are you crazy?” Vender she is my best friend, if I tell her she’ll get weird and we won’t be friends anymore, I can’t lose her.” Vender sighed, looked at you and then said, “Look Powder, if she really is your friend nothing will change that. Nothing is more important than a friendship and you not wanting to tell her that you love her for fear of losing the friendship between you proves that. But I still think she should know, you should know… she might feel the same way about you, isn’t she worth it? Isn’t she worth the risk?” Powder didn’t answer, she just remained thoughtful and looked back at you.

She thought that maybe Vender was right, it was time to tell you. And seeing Gert getting closer and closer to you encouraged her even more. “Vender, give me a drink,” she said without taking her eyes off you. Vender smiled and handed her a glass of alcohol. She drank it all in one gulp and then looked at Vender smiling, he patted her arm encouragingly, “now go talk to her…”

Leave comments, my loves!

Happy New Year, everyone 🌟🥂

[gifsbysimplysonia]

Authors who apologize for a high word count make me want to hug them so hard. THANK YOU for high word counts cuz to me, that means that your muse was on absolute fire and the fact that you did the work to follow that muse every step of the way AND share it with us? What a gift and an honor so again...thank you.

For anyone looking for a "quick summary" of my feedback?

Never has a GIF been more accurate cuz this story is DEFINITELY A PEARL CLUTCHER!

Ahead there be

THE SHEETS are chilled, crisp to the touch, cold enough that shivers tickle their way across exposed skin. A sigh is heard, loud enough for wandering ears as a figure moves about in the unmade, blanket muddled bed. The window had been left open, and as a result, cold air had poured into the room.

I live on a 2nd floor in a little hot box of a room, so this description is so detailed that I could feel it all and I'm jealous :)

Logan was not your boyfriend; he wasn’t even a friend. While he was cordial with the others in the mansion, he remained cold and indifferent toward you.

Ohhhh, one of these, eh? When the MMC acts like this, more often than not, it's cuz he thinks it's better to act this way then pursue OTHER feelings so I wonder if that's what we have here....

Though, you were only human and Logan fucking Howlett was a man worth embarrassing yourself over, especially when he looked like he did. He wasn’t, your mind huffed. He was, your heart retorted.

OMG I so relate to what she's going through and it's so precious to see her head and heart at war, over a dude who "doesn't like her."

Scarlett hues dust your cheekbones, lips bitten until they’re swollen and shiny with spit. Your breasts ache from inside the confines of the pink, lacy shirt, made worse with each labored breath you inhale as perky nipples brush the material. Your hole feels incredibly empty, the need to be filled overpowering. Your clit, puffy and neglected, throbs with pure, searing need. Another wave of aching pleasure from your wetness breaks your resolve— a shaky hand slipping from its place on your stomach down, down, down until cold fingers meet the mess between your thighs.

Again, the description is so meticulous that I can feel every bit of what's being described and WHAT TORTURE!

You were split between wanting to sink down onto his cock and rut your swollen nub against the curls that nestled the base of him and stuffing his dick down your throat, gagging around him until he came and coated your throat with his spend.

Cuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuz, me too??? LORDT.

The 8.5 K words is - NO JOKE - quite smut centric. I'm not sure I've read that many words that were actually smut centric? But there are involved and erotic descriptions of her masturbating to thoughts of Logan and they are DELICIOUS and I won't quote anymore cuz YOU NEED TO GO READ FOR YOURSELF! But imagine the horror when someone comes KNOCKING AT HER DOOR right when she finishes?! I think we know where this is going, don't we?

Logan could fucking smell you. It’s a heady aroma thats so completely you, that his body feels deranged, just about ready to march up those steps and break down your door. He shakes himself loose from the metaphorical shackles of you and begins the journey to his room, trying to block out how delicious and syrupy you smell.

You know what's funny? Having read my fair share of super soldier smut as well, the MMC being able to smell the woman's arousal comes up A LOT. And it's such a weird mixture of feeling absolutely mortified but also really turned on (because the MMC is always aroused by the smell, fantasy come true).

From here on out, the storytelling focuses completely on the carnal which is ABSOLUTELY WIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILD. I'm not sure I've ever read smut this long in my entire life.

AND? It's good quality smut allllllllllllllll the way through. You gotta like it filthy, dirty talk (speaking of what they want to do to each other in explicity terms), and extremely detailed. I felt hypnotized all the way through it.

Logan is an excellent mix of gruff, rough, dominant and completely enamored of his partner. And his partner is a good foil for him because she wants him JUST AS MUCH, is vocal about it, and is as eager to please. These 2 have strong feelings for each other that are outlined in the story preceding the smut, and then reinforced once they are together. Logan in particular is in what I refer to as "worship" mode. He can't stop declaring "mine" and even in his own thoughts, thinking about the way she looks and how he wants to keep her to himself. When the emotions / connection between 2 characters is so well laid out for me as a reader, it intensifies ALL the physical stuff going on, and since this story is MAJORITY SEX? You can imagine how intense of a read it is!

It's an excellent pairing, and again, I've not read this much smut that is both out of this world with how detailed and involved it is, but also grounded in really good characterizations that kept me absolutely hypnotized to the end of this story. PLEASE GO READ IT, GUYS, BECAUSE WOW DOESN'T EVEN BEGIN TO COVER IT!!!

I legit am sweating lol

@logansbaby thank you so much for creating and sharing. What an absolute masterpiece!

GUILTY AS SIN - Logan Howlett

❥ summary: the entire time you’ve known logan howlett, you’ve tried to keep your longings locked. then, one night, all that effort goes to waste when you’re confronted about your feelings.

word count: 8.5k (IM SORRY!!!!)

pairings: logan howlett x fem! mutant reader

content warnings: 18+ CONTENT MDNI, masturbation, dirty thoughts, light choking, multiple orgasms, oral (reader and logan receiving), spitting, sixty-nining, scent kink, like one spank, underwear stays ON, slight hint of arousal from crying?, creampie, p in v (practice safe sex ty!)

❥ a/n: guys…… am i…. a whore? (yes) do i need to be locked up? (also yes). i started this when i was on my period so maybe that’s the reason this is so filthy? anyway i don’t know how it got to 8k of smut but it DID and i have nothing to say about that… also reader has a mutation it’s not super in depth but her hair changes to red in certain situations and she has red light/energy she manifest in her hands, kind of confusing but it’s okay. anyway please please enjoy and let me know your thoughts <3

— ˚｡⋆⟡♡⟡⋆｡˚

‘I keep recalling things we never did

Messy top lip kiss

How I long for our trysts

Without ever touching his skin

How can I be guilty as sin?’

Guilty as Sin? - Taylor Swift

— ˚｡⋆⟡♡⟡⋆｡˚

THE SHEETS are chilled, crisp to the touch, cold enough that shivers tickle their way across exposed skin. A sigh is heard, loud enough for wandering ears as a figure moves about in the unmade, blanket muddled bed. The window had been left open, and as a result, cold air had poured into the room.

Despite the fact that goosebumps adorn your body, it felt as though you were on fire. Huffs escaped parted lips, a charged hum zipping through your veins that only intensified each time you moved. You’d been trying to sleep for the past couple hours, trying to ignore the need thrumming through you, but had only managed to fail.

You turn on your side for possibly the twentieth time, but the position only worsens your state as the flesh of your thighs squeeze unintentionally, a wave of brief relief sent to your throbbing core. Tears brim your lashes, damp with frustration because fuck, your body was humming with lust and everything was so, so sensitive.

This was all Logan’s fault.

The man has been gone less than a week and yet, your body was practically vibrating with need, trembling with desire.

The feelings you harbor make you feel shameful and guilty for a handful of reasons.

Logan was not your boyfriend; he wasn’t even a friend. While he was cordial with the others in the mansion, he remained cold and indifferent toward you.

You pretended it never bothered you when he pointedly ignored your greetings in passing or refused to partner up with you. You didn’t understand what you’d done to upset him, to warrant his treatment of you as if you were the most annoying person on the planet. More often than not, you are the subject of the man’s pointed glare.

So, logically, your heart shouldn’t race at the mere thought of him. Nor should desire pool between your thighs whenever images of his sweaty form cloud your mind.

By definition, you were immensely smart; a genius with how you could understand what others could not.

Though, you were only human and Logan fucking Howlett was a man worth embarrassing yourself over, especially when he looked like he did.

He wasn’t, your mind huffed.

He was, your heart retorted.

A memory comes forward, one that has your cheeks blushing, your chest rising a little faster than before.

A couple weeks ago, you’d been up late, struggling to sleep and with the way it evaded you, wandering the halls had been your solution, in hopes of tiring yourself out.

But when you had walked down your hallway, you froze at the sight of a shirtless Logan in his room, the door left ajar.

A towel covered his head as he scrubbed away the wetness in his hair, and you desperately hoped he hadn’t noticed your presence. Water dribbled down his muscular body, and your eyes greedily watched each droplet descend down, glistening against the tan stomach you wanted to bite. What really had you drooling, however, was the thick, prominent vein that crept down into the waistband of his gray sweatpants. Said pants had your eyes wide with the prominent bulge tented in the material.

When you just barely caught yourself from moaning, you had dashed back to your room right away. You were wide awake still, but for a completely different reason. All you could think about was tracing your tongue along that vein.

If you’d fucked yourself that night to the thought of him and his glistening torso, no one had to know.

So theoretically, if you gave in to your cravings, it wouldn’t be the first time, but it certainly wouldn’t make you feel any less guilty.

Scarlett hues dust your cheekbones, lips bitten until they’re swollen and shiny with spit. Your breasts ache from inside the confines of the pink, lacy shirt, made worse with each labored breath you inhale as perky nipples brush the material. Your hole feels incredibly empty, the need to be filled overpowering. Your clit, puffy and neglected, throbs with pure, searing need.

Another wave of aching pleasure from your wetness breaks your resolve— a shaky hand slipping from its place on your stomach down, down, down until cold fingers meet the mess between your thighs.

A gasp sounds, melodic as it swirls with heavy breathes, fluttering around the room as you brush over your clit. Even through the material of your underwear, the slight pressure of your fingers made you mewl.

Flashes of Logan dance behind closed lids, your imagination running wild while you messily swirl over your bundle of nerves.

You wanted him so, so bad, in every way possible, it actually hurt, both your heart and core.

Your mind submerges your consciousness with thoughts of him; his pretty hazel eyes, the slope of his nose, the tufts of his brown hair. The muscles that were constantly on display, his thick thighs that you wanted to ride until you came all over him, and the huge bulge that was ever present in those flattering jeans of his (and if it was a reoccurring fantasy of yours to ride that delicious bulge over his jeans until you both came from just dry humping, again— no one had to know).

Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t stop thinking about Logan.

Him hovering over you, dog tags swinging in your face as he fucked you hard. Him picking you up and taking you against the nearest surface, lips trapped in an erotic kiss. Him prying your thighs open as he licked up your pussy, tongue dipping into your hole to lap up all the desire pooling, his lips wrapping around the swollen bud and sucking violently. Him holding your face lovingly as his hips thrusted his cock deeper into your throat, groans spilling at the gag you’d let out.

You were split between wanting to sink down onto his cock and rut your swollen nub against the curls that nestled the base of him and stuffing his dick down your throat, gagging around him until he came and coated your throat with his spend.

You didn’t even bother to remove the damp underwear, instead circling the engorged bud over the material— and oh, fuck. The roughness of the lace mixed with the delicious rubbing of your fingers send little moans tumbling from parted lips.

Your unoccupied hand slips under the shirt covering your chest and only settle once your nipple is pinched between determined fingers, rolling the pert bud in tandem with the amorous touch of your hand on your sex.

Pleasure nips at your pelvis, and if you were a little more aware, you’d be embarrassed at how fast you to reaching your peak. But, as it is, your brain is completely hazy with wanton thinking and the only thing on your mind was lessening the ache that pulsates deep within you.

And fuck, you’re so fucking needy for logan that you try to pretend it’s his fingers abusing your clit, his fingers tugging at the sensitive buds of your chest. You want his tongue between your thighs, licking up your desire and sucking your puffy bud into his pretty mouth.

Chest rising rapidly, you feel overwhelmed at the fantasies swirling before your eyes. Its far too much— the mix of your filthy desires and your fingers rubbing your nub have your legs quivering as wetness coats your hand.

“Logan, Logan, Logan—“ The chant of his name mindlessly falls from you, the feeling of your orgasm washing over you, threatening to pull you under those soaring, unforgiving waves of pleasure.

Eyes snap shut, ears ring with white noise, and your hips hump your hand pitifully— you were an absolute, writhing mess against the sheets.

The hair messily strewn around your pillow shifts then from its natural state to a dark red. Even with your eyes shut, you could feel the vermillion light whirling at your fingertips, begging to be released.

Your mutation was not one of subtlety.

Searing bliss coils in your lower tummy, your button tingling with the after effects of the orgasm that crashed into you. You sigh, because even though you just came, you felt far from satisfied. Your body buzzes with sweltering hunger, all the way from the top of your head down to the tips of your toes. Even if you fuck yourself dizzy with another orgasm, you knew it won’t satiate your body. Not completely, anyway.

Before you could slip your fingers inside your weeping hole, a loud knock echos through your room.

You still; desperate and hoping that if you ignored the noise, whoever was knocking would simply go away. But when another rhythmic thump comes a few seconds later, you huff.

It’s well past midnight at this point, so who in their right mind would be going about and slamming their fists on your door?

Apparently, you arent moving fast enough when the person has the nerve to knock for a third time, hand a little heavier than before. A growl, tinged with annoyance, slips out as you fling yourself up and off the bed.

You stomp to the door, ready to tell the person on the other side to fuck off.

But when you actually swing open the mahogany door, all the anger simmering beneath your heated skin disappears, along with your breath, as your eyes take in the sight before you.

Logan Howlett stands before you, seemingly angry as a frown etches deep on his face. He glares at you, hazel eyes swarming with exasperation and something unknown.

And little did you know, all of your craziest, fatal fantasies were about to come true.

❥

The moment Logan steps into the mansion, finally back from the complete shit show of a mission Charles had sent him on, he tenses instantly.

His fingers clench into fists, tight enough that the skin turns white. The adamantium claws threaten to poke through his knuckles as he inhales deeply.

Big mistake.

That sweet, sweet scent swarms his heightened senses, the intoxicating smell nearly making him dizzy. His heart speeds up, his stomach flutters, and his cock twitches in the confines of his jeans.

Logan could fucking smell you.

It’s a heady aroma thats so completely you, that his body feels deranged, just about ready to march up those steps and break down your door.

He shakes himself loose from the metaphorical shackles of you and begins the journey to his room, trying to block out how delicious and syrupy you smell.

He decides then, as his body finally moves up the steps, that ignoring you is the best option.

But as he gets closer to the hallway he shares with you (just his luck, by the way!), he realizes that plan is a joke.

He feels his control slipping, especially as the heady scent grows stronger, tinged with something else— something erotic and salacious.

Logan curses, his entire being rigid.

You’re aroused, the smell seeping under the crack of the door giving you away instantly.

The idea of you whining as your pussy drips slick between your thighs has him grinding his teeth, fingers flexing and unflexing in an attempt to harness the control back to his body.

Though, it goes out the window entirely as his body is apruptly outside your door, unconsciously drawn to the very essence of you.

There’s a reason Logan has kept carefully crafted distance between the two of you.

The minute he was introduced to you, a new member of the x-men and teacher for the school, he knew he was fucked.

From the first look shared between you, he knew.

A pretty smile had graced your lips, eyes filled with joy as you greeted him, a hand outstretched in his direction as your hair swayed with your movements. In your cute, little outfit (a pretty, white lace dress that kissed the tops of your thighs, matched with baby pink pumps that accentuated your legs), he thought you looked like a princess.

He had stayed frozen, however, because he was assaulted with the fucking smell of you. It was nothing like he’d encountered before, and he’d been around for over a century.

Your scent was so fucking sweet, vanilla and honey permeated his nostrils and right in that moment, he wondered if you tasted as sweet as you smelt.

He knew that he had to keep his distance, otherwise he’d become addicted to you in every sense. If he let himself, he’d worship the very ground you walked on. He couldn’t risk having the walls he’d spent so long building to crumble.

And in an instant, he was angry that his body had reacted this way to someone he’d never even met. He was angry he wanted to press sweet kisses on your face while simultaneously wanting to fuck you on his cock until you screamed his name.

So, with that, he’d made up his mind.

He had simply glared at you, refused to acknowledge your existence and stormed out of Charles’ office. And since that day, he’s tried his hardest to pretend you didn’t exist— if only to ease the way you constantly haunted his every thought.

He pretended it didn’t kill him to see how your face would crumble at his rude behavior, at how he avoided you at all costs. He couldn’t help it, though, because if he treated you how he wanted, like the princess you were, he’d never let you go.

A sudden noise shakes him from the depths of his mind, that carnal, sensual essence growing stronger by the second.

“Logan, Logan, Logan,” your honeyed voice whines, all airy and light.

And it’s almost comical how the telltale snikt! sounds immediately after because what?

What the fuck? He thinks, mind utterly destroyed at the revelation that not only were you seemingly fucking yourself, but you were moaning his name.

Logan growls, low and dangerous as his claws reveal themselves, cutting through the skin of his knuckles. His body feels unnaturally hot, practically set on fire. His cock now uncomfortably hard in his jeans, lustful essence bubbling at his tip and no doubt staining his boxers.

With the wafts of your pretty aroma and sounds of your lewd whimpers, he knows he can’t resist you any longer.

His hand lifts, claws retracting as his heavy fist slams on your door.

And the sight of you, face shiny with a sheen of sweat has him choking on his own saliva.

Tonight was the night his control finally snaps, despite months of work put into avoiding you.

Logan knows his animalistic side is about to be released; he’s going to fucking ruin you.

❥

You gulp, a hand resting on the door frame as you stand frozen because honestly, what the fuck?

You deduce that the universe hates you because why? Why would the man you’d been thinking of while masturbating be right in front of you?

It only dawns on you when Logan’s gaze swipes over your figure that you’re basically naked. Clad only in your blushed, frilly top and the matching underwear, the latter soaked with both your arousal and release.

You shrink beneath his eyes, warmth simmering hot on the apples of your cheeks, and your mouth opens and closes, yet no words follow.

“Uh— Logan, hey!” Your voice is shaky, and whether it’s from the power of your release or the nerves that bumble beneath your skin at the man before you, you couldn’t tell. All you know is that you want the ground to swallow you up whole.

Logan doesn’t respond, just continues to stare at you in a way that you don’t understand. You assume he’s just gotten home from the very long mission, and confusion settles over you as to why he was at your door, especially considering how he badly despises you.

You’re about to voice that exact thought when Logan beats you to speaking.

“I heard you.” His gruff tone is coated in something darker than you’d ever heard before.

For a moment, you’re perplexed, brows furrowing and raising before your eyes go comically wide.

And— oh, oh.

“Can smell you, too.”

Heat licks at your whole body, embarrassment threatening to envelope you entirely. Tears of horror tickle your lash line, because this was probably the most painful moment of your life. Not only does the man hate you, but now he’s heard you moan his name as you came all over your fingers? How pathetic are you?

You open your mouth, an apology heavy on your tongue. You need to say something to quell the panic flooding your body— you’re never going to get over this

Though, before you can even speak, Logan slams his mouth onto yours.

He holds your head softly, a deep contrast to the way his lips melt over yours. A moan slips from your open mouth, the feel of his lips sucking at your bottom lip feels immensely intense and so, so good.

Your arms wrap around his neck, fingertips tangling themselves in the hair at his nape like you’ve wanted to do since the very day you met him.

“Logan—“ you whimper against his mouth, trying and failing to understand what the fuck was happening as he slips his tongue inside your wet, warm mouth. “Logan.”

He ignores you, grunting against your spit, slick lips as his hands travel down your curves, until they find purchase on your ass, gripping hard. A choked gasp spills from you as he suddenly paws at you, picking you up effortlessly in his strong arms.

The idea of him holding you up with no hesitation has your hips shuddering forward without your permission. Vaguely, you feel him move past the threshold of your door, slamming it shut before pressing your body up against the wood.

Logan switches between licking your tongue and sucking meanly at your lips, until they feel full and swollen with his attention. You’re pliant— almost willing to let him do anything he’d like to you.

Almost.

As good as his tongue feels dancing with yours, confusion still settles over your mind. Perhaps this was a dream and if that’s the case, you never want to wake up.

“Wait—wait.” You pull back, the questions swirling inside probing you until it’s impossible to ignore.

“Huh, baby?” Logan groans, teeth pulling at your bottom lip before sucking at the swollen skin.

Babybabybabybabybaby— the pet name clouds your senses for a second, a rush of arousal pooling at your hole. You want to cry at how that simple, simple word makes you feel.

“Stop that.” You mumble, pulling your head back and lips out of his reach.

Logan stares at you, silent but waiting as he waits for you say whatever is on your mind. Frankly, he wants his tongue to be buried deep in your cunt right about now, but, details.

“What is going on?” Breathless, the question settles between you, causing Logan’s brow to raise.

“Well, my tongue was just in your mouth—“ you slap his chest, face turning warm at his bluntness.

“Not that. I’m— why are you here? Why are you kissing me when you can’t stand me?” Your voice is quiet, insecurity present in your tone. Nimble fingers grasp the dog tags that rest on his chest, and you’ve never been grateful for it.

At that, Logan’s face scrunches up, confusion floating around his irises, lips curving downward.

“What are you talking about?” If it wasn’t for the genuineness in his voice, you would’ve smacked his chest again at how clueless he was.

“What do you mean? You’ve made it very clear how you feel about me; you’ve despised my entire existence the moment we met— wait, I can’t even say that because you didn’t even have the decency to greet me!”

Frustration hovers over you heavily, enough to snap you out of the lustful spell Logan often inflicts upon you. You slide down his body, ignoring the quiver of your cunt when you make contact with his jean clad bulge. You push at his chest, needing distance to ensure you actually get your words out and don’t end up back with his tongue down your throat.

“I don’t hate you.” Logan grunts out, staring at you as you pace the wooden floors of the room. Vaguely, he’s paying attention, but he can’t be blamed for the way his eyes focus on the way your ass shifts with each step, the plush skin so inviting as the lace cup each cheek. “What’re you on about?”

Frankly, Logan’s pissing you off. The vague answers are getting on your nerves, enough that you feel yourself snap.

Your hair swiftly turns bright red, a scarlet blossoming over the strands until they coat them completely. Your emotions could never quite be concealed, not with the way your hair would turn different variations of red when you were angry, furious, sad, happy, aroused.

“You’ve been a dick to me, treating me like shit for no reason and now you think you can just waltz in here and kiss me like that? You think you can pretend to want me when we both know that’s not true?”

Balls of fiery, red energy bloom at your fingertips, and though you stand in your pretty pink assortment, you look the part of threatening.

It’s too bad the abrupt display of your mutation, mixed with fiery words, has Logan’s cock jerking with want.

“Sometimes, I question whether or not you’re actually a genius.”

And just like that, you feel the words like a punch to the gut. You’re so mad, so blind by the intense emotions you feel for Logan, that you feel those pesky flames of energy moving up your wrist and forearm, a telltale sign of your anger.

“Fuck you, Logan.” You hiss, your fingers hot with the heat coursing through them.

What pisses you off more, to which your hair and eyes darken to a dangerous maroon, is the fact that Logan wears a faint smirk, watching you with humor as if you aren’t showcasing how pissed you are.

“Are you done yet?” Logan takes a step closer, uncaring of the way your mutation flares furiously at his presence.

“Logan, leave me alone. I don’t need you to sit here and pretend to want me. I don’t need you to make fun of me, either.” Huffing, you glare up at the man before you, who stares back just as pointedly.

You turn around, back facing him as you go to enter the attached bathroom when all at once, you’re spun back around by a hand on your nape, your neck in a delicious tight grip as Logan pulls you into his body, smashing his mouth on yours for the second time tonight.

Your body betrays you, a desperate whimper ebbs out at how fucking good Logan’s lips feel on yours.

His teeth bite down on your top lip, before suckling sweetly to combat the pain flourishing there. You moan, mouth falling open as he messily kisses you. The intoxicating taste of him swarms your tastebuds, his tongue swirling with yours in a way that leaves you dizzy with need.

A string of spit connects between your mouths as Logan pulls away, chuckling meanly when you promptly follow the warm wetness of his lips. A rough hand grips your throat again, tight enough to leave you feeling breathless but delicious enough to make your cunt squeeze around nothing.

“So that’s what you think, princess? That I don’t want you?” Logan’s fingers flex around your throat, gripping at your jaw to capture all of your attention. As if you were anything but than enamored with him. “You think that’s what I’ve been doing, huh?”

You can only stare up at him as your heartbeat rings loudly through your eardrums. A hand goes to tug at his shirt, an attempt to steady yourself, but Logan’s faster as he grabs your wrist.

“Answer me.” He whispers hotly as the hand holding yours captive moves to intertwine your fingers.

The touch of him, the hold on your throat and roughness of his fingers in yours, renders you speechless. You’re so overcome with your emotions that you can only manage to nod. The weight of you goes limp in his hold, silently begging him to do something to satiate the hunger burning every inch of you.

“Words, baby. Got nothing to say now, huh?” He taunts, his grip leaving your neck in favor of thumbing at your lips.

“Yes— I, it’s what it’s seemed like, what you’ve made me feel. Thought you hated me.”

Logan’s nose twitches, no doubt smelling your arousal as it leaks into the material covering you, ruining the lace.

“Couldn’t be more wrong,” He groans, pushing his thumb past the soft of your lips. His knees nearly buckle at the feel of your mouth closing and sucking his thumb, tongue rolling up against the skin as though it was his cock instead. “Shit, baby.”

You whine around his finger, eyes fluttering up at him in a way that has his dick aching for you.

“Fuck, been dreaming about you since the day we met. Been dreaming of you in every way possible.” He admits, a smile tugging at his lips at the way you freeze, lips leaving his thumb with a ‘pop’.

“What?” It’s a whisper, barely audible but he heard it all the same. The butterflies in your stomach are now having a complete rager, bolts of anxiousness kissing your skin.

“Of course.” Logan leanes down, pressing a kiss to your wet lips. “Knew the second I saw you you’d ruin me, so I just… stayed away. I never meant to make you think the worst. M’sorry, honey.”

This was not the way you’d expected tonight to go.

It’s as though all the confusion, anger, and sadness drain from you and, in its place,its full of the tremulous feeling of the admission.

And despite the fact that you’d fucked yourself thinking about him, and he’d heard, you feel incredibly shy. You drop your head to his hard chest, your hands squeezing his own where he holds them.

“I don’t know what to say.” You utter, brain all muddled and no other thoughts come forth as Logan haunts every inch of your mind. You feel like an idiot, even though Logan had acted like a dick for the better part you’d known him.

Logan simply lifts your head, invading your senses as his nose bumps yours.

“You were a dick.” It’s spoken factually, making him huff against your face.

“I know.”

“You could’ve kissed me months ago.”

“Can I kiss you now?”

His quick reply leaves you flushing, but when you nod, his lips are back on yours instantly, in their rightful place.

The kiss is messy; hot, wet, and dirty. Logan groans when you jump up, strong arms catching your thighs in a tight grip. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you lose yourself in the thrilling taste of his mouth. You unconsciously start humping him, dragging your drenched panties across his hard dick.

You suck on his tongue before capturing his lip between your teeth, nails dragging down his shoulder blades. A loud, feral growl escapes Logan, and without another thought, he throws your pliant body on the bed.

And at the sight of you, Logan feels like he’s about to come right then and there. In your skimpy outfit, so much plush, soft skin is on display. The hair tumbling from your shoulders has turned a dark cherry color during your kiss, and your hands are tickled with red energy that’s twirling up your arms, not unlike the way vines thread onto an old home.

This time, though, he knows you’re not upset, but instead, aroused.

He can smell the way your slick seeps from your fluttering hole, how it sticks to the skin of your thighs.

And fuck, he wants to sink his face right in front of your pussy and inhale until he’s woozy with the complete perfume of you.

So, that’s exactly what he does.

Your eyes widen as Logan drops onto the floor in front of the bed, yanking your body to the edge. Your lower half is completely in his grip, and he stares at you for a moment, eyes hazy with lust. Then, he’s pulling your pussy all the way up to his nose. The feel of him so close to your puffy lips has you clenching, even more so when he lowers his head and fucking sniffs you.

“Fuck, baby. Been dreaming of this since the minute I saw you. Smells so fuckin’ sweet.” Logan inhales deeply again, smattering messy, open mouthed kisses to the skin of your upper thigh. “You don’t know how many times I’ve wanted to throw you over my shoulder, get you alone and eat this pussy.”

“Logan!” You whimper out. The sound is completely feeble but you couldn’t care less, not with the way he’s sucking bruises into your skin. “Please, please.”

Spurred on by your whines, he sinks his canines into the skin, where your thigh meets the lips of your core.

Pain simmers into pleasure as the sting is followed by his tongue. Rosy splotches decorate your upper thighs, a preview of the bruises that will glaze the skin tomorrow. Logan does this until he’s satisfied with how his teeth imprint the skin. It’s as if it’s his way of solidifying that you’re his, like he’s staking his claim with his bruises smattering your thighs.

At some point your hand finds purchase in his hair, pawing at the tufts and tugging his face closer to where you need him most. He groans, the pain at his scalp sending jolts of desire throughout his body.

He sneaks a look up at you, and shit, you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. Your head is thrown back, sending those rebellious, red strands fluttering around you. Your hips are canting up to his mouth, and the smell of you, mixed with the previous orgasm you’d worked out before he interrupted, sends his senses in overdrive.

He knows he’d tortured you both enough when you can’t stop shivering with need, when his own hips brush against the edge of the bed. Without hesitation, Logan licks a long, wet stripe up your clothed pussy, suctioning around your enlarged clit.

The taste of you, heady, sweet, and so distinctly you, floods his tongue. He knew you’d taste good, but this? Oh, he wanted to drink you up all hours of the day.

With a growl, Logan tuggs the lace aside and loses it. He sucks, licks, and mouthed at your cunt like a man starved. His tongue dips into your hole before licking up and down your slit.

Moans of his name sound around the walls of your room, along with the filthy noise of his lips sucking your swollen button.

You’ve never felt like this before; the way he’s eating you out has your entire body on fire, and if you could see yourself, you’d see how ruby colored lines swirl all around your hands, how your hair practically glows with the intensity of your feelings.

He’d been attracted to you the minute he saw you— but the way you look when your mutation is at work? The way your hair grows shades of intoxicating reds and the way the fiery energy glows from the tips of your fingers to your elbows? Oh, how it fucking wrecks him. He just wants to keep you captive in this bedroom for all of eternity, if only to see you like this all the time.

“Feels so fucking good, fuck.” You’re a blubbering mess, hands tugging Logan’s hair hard, resulting in a moan that vibrates your pussy.

“Mine.” He grunts, and you gasp at the sensation of saliva as he spits directly onto your clit. “My fuckin’ pussy.”

Then, he latches his soft lips around your puffy bud and sucks hard. His dirty words and lucious mouth have your thighs shivering, hips bucking with insatiable need.

Like you’d done when you were alone and thinking about him, whimpers of ‘Logan’ slip past bitten lips as you rut against his face.

“That’s it, baby, say my name. Taste so fuckin’ good.” He humms against the slick, swell of your pussy.

A stream of ‘fuckfuckfuck’ is audible from open lips, forming an ‘o’ as the rush of delicious, hot pleasure pours over you completely.

As you come down, the pleasure fizzles out and overwhelming bursts of overstimulation bubble over you. Logan continues to lap at your wetness, groaning at your taste.

“S’too much, Logan.” Shaky hands grip his brown locks and you try and fail to bring the man away from your throbbing hole. His tongue laps at the taste of you, dipping in as deep as he could to savor every last drop. “Oh, fuck.”

“Taste too fuckin’ sweet, baby. Can’t help it.”

Logan grips tightly at your thighs, cruelly pinching at the flesh as he devours your pretty clit.

He can’t get enough, and seemingly, neither can you, with the way you buck into his warm, slick mouth despite the crushing pleasure. The material of your underwear snaps against you as Logan’s grip loosens, but he still eats you out as though there was no barrier.

His soft lips and dangerous tongue make it difficult to do anything but take the mind-numbing pleasure.

He’s content to stay here; between your gorgeous thighs and ravage your cunt all night, pull orgasms from you until you forget everything except the syllables that make up his name.

Except, the words that come from you have him still against you, his cock jerking and responding immediately to the addictive tilt of your voice.

“Logan— Logan, wanna suck your cock. Please.”

It was as though you were made for him— every inch of you riles him up like no one else has before and he has to take a deep, deep breath to refrain from coming in his jeans like a damn virgin.

With one last lick up your lace covered cunt, his face is suddenly above yours, the sight is lethal. The entirety of his lower face wears your wetness with pride, glistening and gleaming in the lowlight of the room. His eyes look animalistic, the hazel taken over by the black of dilated pupils.

Logan looks at you like he wants to fucking destroy you. You know without a doubt you’d let him.

A sweet kiss is pressed against your lips, a warm caress of his tongue on yours, the musky taste of your pussy causing you to part your thighs further. You whine once more, because you crave the heady taste of his cock; your mouth salivates at the thought of his tip heavy on your tongue.

“Easy, honey. Can smell how bad you want it.”

If you were less intoxicated by lust, you’d be mortified at the knowledge Logan can smell your arousal right now.

“Logan.” Pathetic whimpers and moans against his mouth have him pulling back, gritting his teeth to force himself to get a grip. It doesn’t work, not with the way you’re spread out below him, face pretty with a tiny that vaguely mimics the hue of your top and panties.”Please.”

How is he meant to last when you sound like that? All fucked out from just his tongue alone?

“C’mere’.” Logan mutters, tugging your body all the way up his chest, maneuvering you until your pussy is hovering above his mouth, facing his cock.

Completely fucked out, saliva pools in your mouth at the sight of his bulge, massive even in the confines of jeans.

You’re confused as to why Logan has put you on his chest, but it makes sense when he pulls your thighs down, mouth finding your wet, sopping sex once more.

You cry out, hips jolting at the way his tongue push the fabric away from your puffiness, immediately wrapping around your clit. At the way you were shaking on his face, unmoving besides the subtle thrusts of hips, he stops.

“Lo—“

“Go on then, baby. Suck my cock, just like you wanted.”

And oh, you both feel the slick that follows after those rasped words fill the air.

Only once you undo that damn belt buckle and pull both his jeans and boxers down, just enough to see the way his cock bounced out, wet at the red, swollen tip, does Logan resume licking up your pussy.

Fueled by the return of those talented lips, you lean forward without another thought.

Licking from base to tip, a moan vibrates against his cock as you hum, a taste so distinctly Logan making you feel light and warm. You lick up and down him sloppy, spitting on the tip of him as you slick his dick up, before finally wrapping your lips around him.

“Fuck.” His growl is borderning on feral; his teeth finding purchase on your asscheek and biting, an attempt to ground himself. It only serves to have his hips jump at the feel of you whining on him, sucking him down so fucking good. “Fuck, knew you’d be good with that pretty fuckin’ mouth.”

He’s so focused on the way you’ve started bobbing up and down the length of him, overcome with euphoria at the warmth and wetness as you suck and swirl your tongue, that he’s stopped his attention to your pussy, something he’s only reminded of as you wiggle impatiently over him.

“Sorry, princess, you’re driving me fuckin’ crazy.” He grits out, fingers gripping the flesh of your thighs at the little ‘hmph!’ you let out, pulling off his cock.

Though he can’t see you, he knows there’s a string of spit that spans from your swollen lips to his pulsating cock. He shutters, overwhelmed by you entirely, before burying his face into your weepy cunt.

”Oh! Logan, feels so good!” With a pathetic little whimper, his cock fills your mouth again as you sink down, satisfied with the way his tongue is licking at you.

A blend of moans sound as he wraps his lips around your puffed clit, as you ease his cock into your throat.

Logan’s eating you out in a frenzy, crazed by the tang of you soaking his mouth, chin, and nose. Despite the warmth bubbling in his stomach, he’s determined to make you come on his tongue again.

When thick fingers nudge into your hole unexpectedly, you mewl at the blissful feeling.

Logan’s fingers work steadily inside you in tandem with the way his mouth suckles divinely at your button. You’re an absolute mess— grinding down on his face, riding his digits, gagging as Logan’s hips match the pace of his fingers, grunts vibrating against you as he fucks your throat.

Logan curls his fingers in a way that has you seeing every fucking color of the rainbow. You come, moaning around the base of his cock and rocking back and forth on his fingers and mouth, muffled sobs spilling from your stuffed mouth.

When he feels you shivering on his tongue, overstimulated and sensitive, he pulls away from your center, the soaked fabric of your panties falling back into place once more.

Your mouth is still full of him, lips lazily sucking him down as your body tries to get ahold of the white hot pleasure still coursing through you.

“C’mere, baby.”

It’s a soft whisper against your thigh, but it settles over you, his soothing voice swirling around your shaky body like a warm blanket. Letting his cock fall from your lips, you scramble as fast as your body allows before you find yourself straddling Logan, staring down at the man with cloudy, wet eyes.

And maybe Logan is sick— because the sight of tears spilling over your cheeks has his cock unbelievably hard, a growl threatening to tumble out at the way your pretty, crimson hair spills over your shoulders.

Still, he wants to make sure you’re okay.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Logan watches at the way a small smile graces your features, even as tears continue to glisten your lash line. “You okay?”

“Nothing's wrong, just feel so good.” Your voice is a little hoarse, no doubt from the way his dick was fucking your whiny mouth. Your voice is still the sweetest thing he’s ever heard, those few words going straight to his dick.

Logan feels his own lips tug upwards as you speak. Even though he’s fucked you silly and stolen two orgasms, he tenses with desire as he notes the want dancing in your irises.

“Good.”

“Mhmm.”

There’s a beat of silence, a moment where hungry eyes lock in on one another, sensual energy threatening to burst.

Then, in a flash, lips are locked and tongues whirl together familiarly. It’s a hot, lewd kiss filled to the brim with desire— the passion almost too much with how it lights up every inch of your bodies, a fire threatening to spread.

Neither of you are sure who moved first— but it doesn’t matter because the way Logan’s hand wraps around your hair, creating a makeshift ponytail in a tight grip, steals your attention.

If someone were to see the two of you, they would see how desperate and needy you both were.

You’re kissing Logan’s top lip, biting before soothing the sting with a sweet, soft suck. Your thighs are spread over his own entirely and your position has your cunt settling over his cock nicely. Logan’s free hand grips the skin of your ass tight, guiding as you grind against him, the soaked panties catching on the tip of him with each thrust. The fingers tangled in your hair are unforgiving, tugging harshly as Logan grunts into your open mouth.

You’re both a mess of passion and lust— and your body thrums with the idea of his cock inside you.

“Such a good girl, that’s it. Fuck—“ Logan nearly whines, the feel of your wetness on his bulge has him trapping your lips in another all consuming kiss.

Your hands, lit up with energy, find purchase in his pretty hair, yanking as he kisses you vulgar, because everything is somehow too much and not enough.

“Logan— need you. Need you so bad, baby.”

Logan wants to eat you up entirely— somehow you’re still not satiated, rubbing your slick all over his lap and begging him for more. If he was a better man, he would’ve fucked you already. As it is, he likes it a little too much hearing you beg for him.

“Shhh, you got me, honey. I’m right here.”

“Fuck me, please. Need you inside, Logan.”

There’s tears in your eyes again, ready to spill over if the ache between your thighs isn’t soothed in the next five minutes. You’re clinging to him, hips stuttering because it’s just not enough and you both know it.

“My poor baby.” He sighs, the words somehow a mix of condescending and genuine and it makes you cry out. “So needy, huh?”

“Just for you.” The way you say it, it’s a message you both understand— you need him in every way possible, not just sexually.

He wonders if you know just how badly he needs you, especially now that he’s got a taste of you.

“I’m yours—“ you start, but it’s cut off by the squeak you emit when you’re suddenly flipped over, Logan’s muscular form hovering over you, his dog tags swinging between you.

“You’re mine.” It’s not a question, but a statement and it sends a thrill over you.

“Yours.” You’re nodding, eyes wide and so fucking pretty that it makes Logan squeeze his hands, the metal of his claws threatening to break through the skin.

He pulls his shirt off then, pride filling his chest at the way your eyes glaze over, a lip taken between your teeth as you stare at the vein that leads to his cock, which is pulsing with the promise of release.

He doesn’t comment on your lustful eyes, instead tracing his fingers down your body, until he reaches the hem of your baby pink lace. It doesn’t leave much to the imagination but Logan might break something if he doesn’t see your tits in all their glory.

You get the message, leaning up and slowly pulling the fabric from your chest, your breasts and midsection on full display. If he hadn’t already eaten you out twice, you would’ve moved to cover your taut nipples. Instead, you grip the chain of his necklace and pull him back down with you, sighing when you’re chest to chest.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” He says, pecking your lips once, licking a stripe down your throat. Wetness coats both nipples as his tongue swirls over them. “Do you know how badly I’ve wanted to have you under me?”

You moan, nails digging into his shoulder blades at the fluttery feeling his lips bring, deep enough to elicit blood from his skin. Logan groans, head tipping back as his hips thrust down suddenly, the tip of his cock ramming into your clit.

“Fuck, Logan.” Your hands span the expanse of his back, scratching each time he bumps your button just right. His jeans are still on, resting just below his thighs and something about the way he couldn’t even get up to properly take them off makes you shudder.

He’s rutting against you now, dick rubbing filthy over your panties and it dawns on you then that he hasn’t come yet, too preoccupied with taking care of you.

Determined, you slide one hand onto his asscheek, pushing him further into you, while your other grips his chin, pulling his mouth to yours in a slick, open-mouth kiss.

“C’mon Logan, fuck me, please.”

Logan turns into something animalistic then— flipping you over without warning, caging you between his arms. Your gasp is audible as he yanks your wet lace to the side, before thrusting forward, and fucks his cock into you with one thrust.

“Oh my god, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me—“ the feel of Logan finally inside you had you absolutely fucking drunk on the feel of him.

“Tryin’ to, baby.” He grits, arms flexing beside your head, fingers intertwining with yours as he sinks into you, inch by inch, until you were filled to the brim.

Logan’s body covers yours, lips pressing all over your shoulder blades to soothe the little whines you let out at how fucking full you felt. It’s everything you want and more— you want to memorize the feel of him, every ridge and vein as he bottoms out.

“Baby,” he grunts, fingers flexing with yours as he stays still, for your sake. “So fuckin’ tight, so fuckin’ wet.”

And it was true— despite the fact that he’s huge, he slipped in easily because of the mess you created, a slick mix of your come and desire that seeps from you.

“Logan, fuck me, please.” You ask so sweetly, as if you weren’t impaled by his cock right now.

With that, he slips out of you slowly, before fucking into you hard, deep. Then, he fucking ravishes you— creating a steady, fast paced rhythm and fucking you dumb with his cock.

You’re a whiny mess. Your hair grows darker, hands glittering between his grip each time he slams into you, each time your cunt squeezes around him.

Completely cock drunk, your back arches, ass up and hips slamming back against his with your cheek pressing into the mattress as you sob.

You’re so fucking needy that his own thighs are wet with your desire— he growls at the sight, fucking you even faster.

“You’re mine. Have been since you came here.” Logan growled, releasing your fingers in favor of gripping your hair and pulling you up until you were pressed into his chest. “My fuckin’ girl.”

“Yours!” You cry, tears rolling down your face. Your entire body jolts with pleasure, and you feel like you couldn’t breathe, not with how euphoria threatens to smother you. “M’so close!”

“I know, honey, I know. Can feel you fuckin’ squeezin’ around me.“ Logan moans out, pushing you back down into the mattress and finding purchase on your hips, pulling you back hard. “Gonna come all over me?”

You don’t answer, instead crying out as you feel a sharp flash of pain on your asscheek, Logan’s hand swift and quick. The pain mixes into pleasure when he rubs at the red skin, pressing sweet kisses on your back.

He wishes you could see yourself right now; maybe then you would understand why he was so intoxicated by you.

Your pretty body is bent over, ass up and face in the sheets as whimpers seep out. The lace that drove him crazy is yanked to the side, grazing his cock each time he drove deeper inside you. You’re so beautiful like this, he wants to keep you forever.

Sweet, little ‘uh,uh’s’ fill Logan’s ears as he speeds up, pulling you back up once more against his chest. He wants to be as close as fucking possible, the feel of your skin on his almost searing.

You turn your head back, lips seeking out his own. He kisses you, sucking at your lips as he continues to fuck you vigorously.

The fluttery feeling of your cunt squeezing around him suddenly sends him over the edge— low groans falling in your open mouth as hot, searing spurts of come coat your walls.

Knowing that Logan had lost it, finally giving into the temptation like you’d been doing all night, has you whining as your own orgasm surrounds your entire being.

“Baby—“ Logan thrusts shallowly, riding your orgasms out as long as he could; if he could, he’d never leave this feeling behind. Seemingly, you agreed as your nails dig into his forearms that hold you up, eyes squeezing shut at the overpowering bliss tingling everywhere. “I got you, it’s okay.”

“Logan, fuck!” It comes out as a huff, head against his sweaty neck, body completely limp in his hold.

You’d never been so incredibly sex-dazed in your life. From this moment onward, Logan has ruined you for anyone else.

Though, you hope there isn’t anyone else.

Logan kisses your head before untangling from you; a smirk dancing across his usually gruff features at the little whine let out as he pulls out. He gently rolls you onto your back, laying your head tenderly on the pillows. It was such a stark difference to the rough way he’d fucked you minutes prior, but butterflies flutter around your stomach all the same.

You watch his eyes trail lower, landing on the mess between your thighs.

Logan is mesmerized by the sight; your pussy is destroyed , so wet with his come seeping out of your hole. Mindlessly, he lowers himself until heieye level with your sex. Sans any warning, his fingers are thrusted back inside.

He ignores your hiss in favor of trying to push his come back inside, to keep you full of him. His eyes meet yours, watching as your chest rises as you observe him. There’s a glint in your eye that has his heart stuttering.

“I want to kiss you.” You whisper, soft and a little bashful, as if he didn’t have his fingers inside you. You look too fucking perfect, hair returning to its original color, eyes cloudy with unspoken words, a smile gracing your face.

How could he deny you when you looked like that?

Logan kisses your clit once, enjoying the way you jump before removing his fingers.

With those same digits, he sticks them in his mouth, sucking the flavor of you both and humming. He could hear the way your heart picked up at his actions. He releases them with a loud ‘pop’, before finally coming back to you.

He hovers over you, and like you’d done earlier, soft hands pull at the chain until his lips melt with yours in a soft kiss. Logan pulls back, resting his head on yours, eyes connecting with yours.

“Hi.” You giggle then, nose bumping his in the proximity.

“Hi, baby.” Logan kisses your lips once more, before rolling beside you. You would’ve whined at him if it weren’t for the way he immediately pulls you onto his chest.

With your limbs tangled, a kiss pressed to your forehead, you think this could be heaven and if so, you never wanted to leave.

It was quiet for a moment— the two of you content to listen to one another’s heartbeat, the breaths that fall from lips. Then, you break the silence, because of course you do.

“Logan?”

“Hmm?”

“Just so you know, I’m expecting you to take me out before you get me like this again.” You mutter against his slick chest, where your head rests as you wrap yourself around the man like a koala.

A deep laugh fills the room, chest rumbling because what the fuck?

He’s fucked you, with his mouth and cock, and now you’re laying on him as his come seeps out of you and you’re demanding him to take you out?

He was going to in the first place, but he thinks it’s cute you decided for him.

Logan may be a man that’s been alive for almost two centuries, practically immortal, but it’s completely possible you’ll be the death of him.

˚｡⋆⟡♡⟡⋆｡˚ fin

tags: @strangererotica @cevansbaby-dove @morganyourone @asiancupid

[lemonlover1110]

𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Sukuna

[Chapter 8] Bargain

← Previous Chapter - Story Masterlist

Pairing: Trueform!Sukuna x f!Reader

*happy new year🫶

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi - Bluesky

There’s been a mood shift in the room. You weren’t cheery before per say, but you definitely weren’t like this. It feels as if the place has shifted from a warm orange hue to cold blue. 

Perhaps it was always like this and he didn’t notice. He’s come to see you in a different light after you announced that you didn’t care for the babies. He shouldn’t care if you want the babies or not, as long as you nurture them when they’re born– Yet, he can’t help but dwell on the thought.

“Are they kicking?” Sukuna asks, watching as you slowly eat the food that’s in front of you. Maybe things look more drastically different since his perspective of you has changed, but some things are absolutely different. You’re barely talking.

Sukuna is trying to make conversation with a woman for fuck’s sake. A woman is only good for having sex in his eyes, he shouldn’t be trying to make conversation.

“No.” You answer as you continue to quietly eat your dinner. 

“You’re going to give birth soon, no?” He questions and you shrug. You’ve lost track of time. Winter has just begun… Or is it ending soon? Days all seem the same that you’ve lost track of time. You’re due sometime in the spring, that much you know. “Will you use your words?”

“How do you want me to respond? I don’t know, my dear king?” You respond and he furrows his brows. He doesn’t like the hint of attitude that comes with your words. But there’s something Sukuna knows: beggars can’t be choosers, therefore he won’t reprimand you for speaking to him like that.

“The servants are working on clothes for them.” Sukuna announces, and you don’t react in any way. It’s fine, he didn’t expect you to. Though he won’t lie and say that he isn’t looking at your face to see some sort of excitement at the mention of the babies. He doesn’t know why, but he wants you to get excited about them.

“I’m finished. May I go to sleep?” You question, as you try to get up from your seat– A true struggle lately considering your belly is huge.

“Since when do you care to ask for permission?” He replies, and he’s met with a cold glare.

“I’m your prisoner, am I not?” You respond, and Sukuna realizes that your recent behavior is all tied back to that.

You’ve been having nightmares lately, and it becomes hard for Sukuna to ignore. It’s every night, and he isn’t sure what to do. At first he would simply watch you as you helplessly tossed and turned, but lately they’ve gotten more intense. Sukuna can’t stand and watch.

He’s growing soft, he knows he is. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be holding you to his chest, hand caressing your back. He needs you to rest enough, and that’s not possible if your nightmares get the best of you. If you’re tossing and turning, calling out for help then you’re not resting. 

He wants to know the root of the bad dreams, but he doesn’t care enough to look into the issue. He doesn’t mind this position though, holding you is like holding a little warm ball. He’d never say it outloud, but he’s cold; he won’t shiver or tremble, but he’s still cold.

“Sukuna.” He’s falling asleep, but your soft voice wakes him up. “What are you doing?”

“You have nightmares.” He informs you, as if you were unaware of your own dreams. Is this why you haven’t been waking lately? Has he been comforting you?

“I’m sorry.” You feel the odd need to apologize, something that irritates Sukuna’s ears. It ends up with him scolding you,

“You don’t ever apologize.” Which is quickly followed by another apology from you. He can’t win with you, and it’s fine. He won’t scold you again. Sukuna can’t help but ask, “What have you been dreaming about anyway?”

“Nothing.” You answer, which makes Sukuna put you back down on the futon. Of course you won’t open up so easily, but it frustrates him. His behavior is what dug him into this hole, he shouldn’t care. 

“Do the babies cause you discomfort?” Sukuna questions, and you chuckle.

“When do they not?” You respond. “Falling asleep is a struggle, it’s no surprise I’m having nightmares.”

“Are you having nightmares related to them?” Sukuna questions, and you remain silent. While Sukuna would take that answer as a yes, he isn’t sure this time around. He isn’t great at picking up social cues, but he’s pretty damn sure that he’s on the receiving end of the silent treatment. 

Sukuna takes a long time to think about this weird situation. He asked Uraume about this, but they didn’t have a good answer– Then he asked Hina, an answer that he quickly dismissed. He tries to recall what that answer was.

Then it dawns on him, “A woman dropped off a baby.”

“Your next meal, huh? Enjoy.” You respond, and Sukuna rolls his eyes. You’ve gotten bold, he’ll give you that.

“I don’t eat babies.” He answers. “Babies that are dropped off are raised as servants.”

No answer.

“You can ask Uraume if you want to visit him tomorrow.” Sukuna adds, and your interest is piqued.

“Him? It’s a boy?” You question, and Sukuna hums in response. You furrow your eyebrows, realizing that Sukuna is doing this for a reason. He wants you to look at a baby and think of the children that you grow inside of you. It’s not going to work though, there’s no way in hell that you’ll end up caring for his kids.

“Do you want to meet him or not?” Sukuna presses for an answer, wondering if Hina’s advice is any good. He might just kill her tomorrow if you refuse. Though, you adore Hina and he has to get on your good side so he might just spare her.

“Sure.”

“Uraume, why are you here?” You question when Sukuna's dear servant comes into your room. You rarely see them unless Sukuna is around. Sukuna is tending other business which means that you’re alone– Alone in the sense that he isn’t breathing down your neck, you’re still being watched by everyone else.

“King Sukuna told me you were meeting the baby. He wants me to take you there.” Uraume answers, and you sigh. He’s set on you meeting that baby, he so desperately wants you to change your mind. You can’t help but find it odd, he wants you to love the babies that you grow inside of you.

“Let’s go.” You respond. Uraume gives you a subtle nod before they turn around and leave the room. You follow behind, mentally preparing yourself to not fall for Sukuna’s dumb trick. Perhaps you should’ve turned him down last night, you're not the strongest when it comes to children.

You get to see a side of the palace that you’ve never come across. As you walk past everyone, you’re reminded that you hold some sort of power; a power that you forgot you held since Sukuna is constantly next to you. They bow down to you as you simply walk past them, as if you would actually do something to them.

Uraume leads you to the kitchen, where two women try to calm down the crying baby. Uraume is about to speak, but you shush them before they can say anything. You can read their next move, you don’t want the woman to stop simply to bow down to you.

“Let me hold him.” You tell the women, who have yet to realize who you are. They hand him over to you, desperate for a solution. The sound of a crying baby is absolutely not pleasant.

“Oh, look at you.” You gush at the boy who wails. He’s hungry with no way of feeding. “He’s too young for anything solid, huh?”

“Yes–” One of them speaks, until she realizes who you are. She bows down, and her colleague quickly follows suit. You nearly roll your eyes at the action, as if this wasn’t what you wanted when you asked Sukuna to marry you.

“Stand up.” You order, and they’re hesitant, but they do as you tell them. “What were you saying?”

The women look at each other, afraid of how to proceed. Regardless, they have to answer. “Yes, he’s too young for solids. We’ve never had a baby this young in our quarters, and we’re not sure how to proceed. We need a wet nurse but none of our servants are currently–”

“I’ll do it.” You cut her off as you stare down at the hungry baby. Oh, he looks so much like your Haru, you’d never forgive yourself if the baby died of hunger.

“My queen, that’s not appropriate. King Sukuna would be livid.” Uraume chimes in, though their words fall on deaf ears. 

“Uraume, I’m going back to my room. I’ll tell Hina to give the baby back.” You tell them, bouncing the baby, hoping that the cries die down; you know it’s helpless, the baby won’t stop until he’s fed. 

“My queen–” Uraume begins, but you begin to walk away. You’re smiling at the baby as he cries. Even when he’s crying, he looks so darn cute.

“Oh, how could someone abandon you? You’re so cute.” You tell him, as if you didn’t feel the same way about your babies– And you try not to think about it, but maybe Sukuna’s plan is working. There’s a twinge of guilt as you think about your refusal of loving your babies. 

Maybe the stupid monster has a brain after all.

You lied, you were planning to hand back the baby boy as soon as you fed him, but he’s still in your arms. He looks at you with his beautiful brown wide eyes, and a smile on his face. You can’t let him go. You don’t doubt that he’ll be treated well, but he can have anything he needs right beside your side. Additionally, he makes great company. 

“Oh, that stupid monster’s plan is working.” You mention as the baby yawns in your arms. You can’t fathom the thought of someone leaving this precious baby behind. Except, Sukuna’s sons will be nothing like this calm baby.

“Hina!” You call out, and the woman is in your room within seconds. She bows down her head, and waits for your order. You smile down at the baby in your arms as you tell her, “Get him a warm blanket.”

“King Sukuna–” She begins, but you cut her off before she can finish her sentence. 

“Did I ask about Sukuna?” You question, and she shakes her head. “Then you’ll do as I say. Get him a blanket.”

“Of course.” She responds, nodding her head before walking away. It’s a risk she’s willing to take, even though there’s the possibility that Sukuna won’t be too happy. You were supposed to simply meet the baby, not get attached. There’s nothing she can do now, the matter is out of her hands.

“I hope his babies are as cute as you are.” You murmur as you bounce the baby in your arms. His little eyes are shutting on their own, and you stick out your bottom lip as your little pal begins to drift to sleep.

Hina comes back with a blanket, and you almost snatch it from her hands to cover him. 

“When is the monster coming back?” You ask, knowing that Sukuna is going to force you to give him back. Sure, he suggested the idea but he won’t want you to keep the baby by your side. “Who’s going to feed him if Sukuna takes him from me?”

“I’ve ordered some servants to find a wet nurse, he’ll be fine.” Hina answers but you don’t like that answer. You’re not sure why though, it’s for his own good.

“Can I keep him with me forever?” You’re perhaps a little drastic. You’ve grown attached rather fast– Well, it’s not necessarily hard to grow attached when you’re lonely. 

“My queen, you know that King Sukuna would never allow it.” Hina reminds you, and you can’t help but sigh. She’s not wrong. “Plus, you’re expecting two wonderful babies.”

“They’re not going to be like this…” You comment, and Hina can’t help but chuckle. Babies are babies, whether they’re Sukuna’s kids or not.

“My queen, you do realize that they’re going to be babies.” She responds as your eyes linger on the sleeping baby.

“They’ll pop out with four arms and a tummy mouth—“ You begin, wondering how his babies will end up looking. How much different will they look compared to the rest?

“My queen, you do realize that they’re half of you as well?” She reminds you, and you furrow your eyebrows. They’re also your babies… They will carry your blood whether you accept it or not. “They’re not just King Sukuna’s babies, but yours as well.”

“Of course.” You nod, staring down at the baby. She’s right, even if they come out with four arms and a tummy mouth, they’re still your own blood. Whether you love them or not, won’t change anything.

“He’s here.” Hina informs you as she hears the loud footsteps from far away. For some odd reason, you feel your breath get caught up in your chest, knowing that he’s approaching. 

Hina bows down the moment the door to your room opens, only to not be acknowledged in any way by him. Sukuna’s eyes directly land on you, quickly going to the boy that you hold in your arms. He’s wrapped in a blanket that was made for your sons.

“Get out.” Sukuna says, and Hina stands up to do as he says. Though it’s not quick enough for him, because he proceeds to yell, “Get out!”

“Oh, you’ve woken him up.” You’re annoyed as you hear the crying baby. Just when he’s finally resting, he’s woken up by a screaming monster.

“Why were you feeding that baby?” Sukuna tries not to yell, knowing that he’ll just make matters worse by raising his voice. You’re shushing and bouncing the baby, trying to calm him down. Sukuna won’t be so accepting unless you tell him what he wants to hear.

You’ll tell him whatever he wants to hear.

“Your plan worked.” You tell him, standing up from your seat. The anger from Sukuna fades away, as curiosity overtakes him. “I’ll love your babies.”

His eyes widen, and he feels… Joyous? He’s happy. He likes the fact that his plan worked. Though he doubts that it’s going to be easy. You’re holding a baby in your arms, you must want something more.

“As long as you treat him like your own, I’ll love them.” You respond as you hand the baby to Sukuna. He glares down at the screaming child, wondering how the hell you’ve become so attached to this little human in a matter of hours.

“What?” Sukuna questions, refusing to hold the baby in his arms. You have to repeat yourself,

“Treat him as your own son, and I’ll be the mother you want me to be.”

[gloomwitchwrites]

141 with a fem!reader who instead of not wanting kids can’t have kids?

This is a popular request, anon. I've had several submissions from various users. Since the theme/idea is similar, I thought I would combine them into one.

Heavy angst ahead, folks. I decided not to sugarcoat with this one. It's heartbreaking. It's sad. And yes, there is comfort and love mixed in.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, angst, infertility, pregnancy, miscarriage, mention of surgical procedure, emotional hurt/comfort, implied abortion/d&c, minor blood

Word Count: 900

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

This time, it sticks.

Somehow.

Miraculously.

After years of struggling, of being told it would never happen, of false results and shattered hopes—it’s happening.

You’d be in denial if it wasn’t for the test results in your hand. It is solid, a print out of what your doctor told you over the phone.

John stands next to you, reading the piece of paper over your shoulder. His shoulders are riddled with tension, lips a thin line. It’s clear that he wants to join in on your joy, but something holds him back.

“Are you happy?” you ask, suddenly nervous.

“I am—I.” John clears his throat. “But last time?”

Last time looked just like this. Last time everything was fine—until it wasn’t. Until the blood and the pain and the hospital visit.

“It might not be like last time.”

John gently grasps the sides of your face, thumbs brushing over your cheeks. “You don’t have to. Not for me. Not for anyone.”

“It’s okay, John.”

“Are you sure?”

You nod, and John places his lips to your forehead. “I worry.”

“I know,” you murmur, turning your face into his touch. “But you’re here. And that’s all that matters.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

It all has to go. All of it. There is too much damage.

No uterus. No fallopian tubes. No ovaries.

Gone. All of it. Gone.

Johnny sits next to you on the sofa, his head in his hands. His sigh is heavy as he rubs at his face. When he comes up for air, you know his world is shattered, just likes yours.

“The surgeon said they might be able to save some eggs.” Even you don’t believe the words leaving your mouth. It’s a farce.

“Might?” asks Johnny.

“They won’t know until they’re actually inside.”

Johnny is oddly silent. It’s not like him to be quiet.

“Are you upset?” you ask, tentatively.

“No,” he says sharply. “Not with you. Never with you.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, because an apology feels right but you’re not sure why you’re doing it at all.

Johnny places his hand on your knee, squeezing gently. “For what?”

Tears pool, threatening to spill over. “For not being enough.”

He leans in, face serious. “The fact that you think that at all means I’ve failed you. That I haven’t loved you enough.”

“Johnny.”

He draws you in. “This doesn’t make you less worthy of my love.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

A heartrate monitor beeps nearby. They’ll release you soon now that you’re awake and aware.

It’s all coming back in pieces.

You remember the cramping, the spotting, and then the bleeding that wouldn’t stop. You remember the cold linoleum floor against your cheek, of losing consciousness, of gaining it again only for the room to spin. You remember how cold you were, and Simon’s hands—of how his voice cracked when he said your name.

You don’t recall the trip to the hospital. You only remember how Simon demanded help while the staff told him he needed to calm down.

But he’s here now—and no one is yelling. He sits in a chair next to your hospital bed, face grim and skin pale like he hasn’t slept in days.

There have almost always been complications—always been issues while trying to conceive, but of those that have ended, it’s never been like this.

You turn your head, and as if sensing you, Simon glances up from his silent musings. You offer your hand. Simon takes it, and though he doesn’t squeeze hard, you feel the desperation in the way he clings to you.

“I’m not risking you. Never again.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Your friend opens the gift, presenting it to the gathered crowd. Everyone fawns over the set of baby blankets. There are several in total, all pale pastels.

You smile and agree that it’s a wonderful gift. Outwardly, everything is fine. Internally, your mind is still at home, lingering on the four pregnancy tests hidden in the bathroom bin beneath a pile of toilet paper.

Each one negative. Each one a glaring stain on the long list of failures.

Kyle emerges from the kitchen with the father-to-be, a massive grin on his face. This baby shower is a reminder to you of all your shortcomings. For Kyle, this is hope—a vision of the future.

And you haven’t told him. Haven’t said a word about those four negative tests.

How many years of trying now?

But you’re still young.

Don’t stress about it.

It’s so easy for others to stick their nose in, which is why you don’t share anymore.

Kyle plops down next to you. The happiness there is palpable, so thick it’s almost like butter on the tongue. You’re going to shatter it—hurt him yet again.

He presents his hand, palm upward.

You snatch it like a lifeline, and squeeze—hard. Kyle frowns at your entwined fingers. His gaze sweeps upward.

In your friend’s hands is a onesie for a newborn. Everyone coos, and something in you breaks. You’re smiling, but you sense the threatening tears.

Kyle’s frown shifts to a sad smile.

He knows. You don’t have to say anything.

Lifting your joined hands, Kyle brings the back of your palm to his lips. Placing a quick kiss there, he then kisses your forehead. He adds another kiss to spot just behind your ear.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s okay.”

No one is watching.

“I love you.”

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

barista (t.d.)

Pairing: Tim Drake x Reader

Word Count: 6.2k

Summary: You have a big, fat crush on your regular—Gotham’s very own friendly neighborhood coffee addict, Tim Drake.

A/N: Please compliment me about the banner I worked very hard on it <3 Also Happy New Year!!!

Getting a job in food service was honestly the last thing you wanted to do. You had heard enough horror stories from your friends who had taken many summer jobs unlike you. They often complained of insufferable superiors, bad working hours, and even worse pay and even though their stories of annoying Karens were extremely entertaining, you didn't think you'd be any good at handling them yourself. Unless your boss was okay with you cussing them out.

So, when your parents brought up you getting a job, you had vehemently refused. It's not like you particularly needed the money, however, they made a good point about needing to gain experience and how you were practically a rotting pile of flesh since you had begun summer break.

You couldn't argue with their points, even you knew that you needed to get back into a routine and get some fresh air. However, a job as a barista was the last thing you wanted to do.

But when your parents mentioned that you'd be working at your aunt's cafe, you were quick to change your tune. You always had a blast with her, and she'd definitely pay you well, lest she face the rath of her older sister, your mother. Plus, she often claimed that you were her favourite niece, despite not having any other but you supposed it was the thought that counted. Plus, you'd make extra money that you could use for pretty much anything.

So, now adorned in an apron, you stood behind the counter and took orders. Your aunt oversaw the pastry making and baking while you were in charge of the register and making drinks.

The thing you liked the most about your aunt's cafe was that it was a rare find for many customers. The cafe was the perfect space for people to sit in the quiet and get some work done. There was rarely ever any rush unless a big party came, however even then you were never really spread thin. You suppose you should feel bad that your aunt wasn't getting much business but she more than made up for the lack of customers with her overpriced coffee and cakes. But you would never tell her that. Besides, she made most of her profits from custom cake orders.

That's not to say that you didn't get any customers, you had very many loyal regulars that were always polite and would always strike up a conversation with you. Most of them were residents from the high-rise building above the shop so they were usually pretty wealthy and thus knew how to tip well.

And of course, the most loyal customer of them all, Gotham’s very own coffee addict; Tim Drake.

You take back your previous statement; he was definitely the thing you liked the most about the cafe.

You would have been down bad if he had just been just good looking; with blue eyes that were unusually bright and clear, like as though God cut the fabric of the afternoon sky and the clear blue ocean and made his irises with them. His pale skin and dark hair definitely made them seem even brighter.

He was so good looking that your customer-service-smile had frozen onto your face when he first entered the cafe, barely hearing his order over the thumping of your heartbeat and your brains incessant chatter trying to tell you to pay attention to what he was saying. Eventually, you had to apologize and ask him to repeat his order in your stupor, giving the excuse that you were new even though you had been there for more than 2 weeks.

He just smiled politely and told you not to worry before fishing his wallet and paying for his drink, tipping 50%. He wasn't just gorgeous but also well-mannered and sweet. You were down so catastrophically, cataclysmically bad.

The next time he came in, you learnt his name by pretending you needed to write it down on the cup and he casually commented how you didn't really do that last time. You said it was because he had been the only one in the store last time even though there was only one additional customer there. And you all were aware that you didn't bother to ask for the other customer’s name.

Tim continued to come almost every morning for the next couple of weeks and once you learnt how to actually comprehend the words coming out of his mouth instead of just listening to angelic singing every time he looked at you, you realized he was actually very interesting.

He'd always strike up a conversation with you and sometimes you'd take your lunch break and sit with him at the table while you talked. He was hilarious and intelligent and creative and the more you talked with him the more your plain attraction turned into affection before you knew it.

"I see you like Red Robin." Tim commented casually, noticing the insignia pin that you had on your apron. You glanced at the enamel pin that you had bought from a bodega on an impulse out of instinct before nodding, "Yeah, he's my favourite amongst the bats."

"Oh really? How come? Most people really prefer Nightwing, like me."

You shrugged, "I dunno, I just feel like he doesn't get enough appreciation as compared to the others. Plus, he makes the papers the least often."

"So, what? You felt bad that no one pays attention to him?"

You shook your head, clutching the screen as you typed in his order that you had already memorized. A brown sugar shaken espresso that you had convinced him to try just once, and he had immediately been hooked onto. You obviously added a couple extra shots of espresso for his caffeine addicted self.

"On the contrary, the fact that he's not seen in the paper probably means that he's getting the job done quietly and efficiently. Or maybe not. But that's just my guess. He's not bad looking either."

Tim chuckled, passing you his card, "Don't let him hear you say that; he might just swoon at the compliment."

"Well, I haven't actually seen his face, so I can't say with full certainty."

Tim lingered by the counter while you made his coffee, speaking loudly due to the absence of customers at this time. You had once mentioned that this was your least busy time; you wondered if he visited during that time, so he'd get to talk to you for longer.

You shook your head, reminding yourself not to get a big head as you pulled a double shot of espresso, quickly adding it to the shaking glass with brown sugar.

"I bet I’m better looking."

You really hadn't meant to laugh as hard as you had; you just pictured Tim Drake, with his posh posture and Gotham elite personality, sniffing at Red Robin as he tried to critique and compare looks. You were fairly sure that Red Robin was a head taller than him as well. The more you thought about it, the harder you laughed.

When you finally managed to wipe the tears from your eyes, Tim was still standing at the counter with a star-struck expression, pink beginning to paint his porcelain skin in beautiful blooms. You bit your lip, smiling in apology. He must have been quite embarrassed at your boisterous laughter.

"S-Sorry, you caught me off-guard." You explained, still giving him a sheepish smile as you grabbed a napkin and straw for him. The red had made its way up to his ears and down his neck before disappearing underneath the hoodie he was wearing.

Great, you had a crush on the guy and just laughed at the thought of him being better looking compared to a guy you had never even seen before.

"It's fine, it was meant to be a joke, so I suppose I’m flattered."

"No, I was being mean, you're definitely better looking." You teased, "If I ever meet Red Robin, I’ll definitely let him know that."

"I’ll hold it to you." He joked, grabbing his drink.

Having a crush was way more physically taxing than you had remembered it being. Every time Tim was around you, your heart slammed so sharply against your ribcage you would get breathless, and your stomach would twist into so many knots you'd find your abdomen getting sore.

You'd grow visibly excited when it was around the time for him to enter the store, making sure everyone else's orders were fulfilled so that you could give him as much of your undivided attention.

After being hopelessly infatuated and pining for him for a while, you had thought that you had gotten used to the incessant butterflies flapping their fingers against the walls of your stomach. However, Tim continued to prove you wrong.

You had just finished wiping down the steam wand of the espresso machine, when the bell above the store door had jingled, telling you that you had a customer.

When your eyes landed on the man standing behind the register, you couldn't help but freeze, stomach squeezing so tightly you could feel your heart crawl up to your throat, stopping you from welcoming him inside.

Tim Drake was wearing a suit.

His hair was styled for the first time you had ever seen him; dark tresses neatly gelled away from his face aside for a couple strands that tickled his nose.

You clenched the cloth in your hands so tightly you could feel the rough fabric beginning to slightly burn your skin. A part of you wanted to collapse into a puddle on the floor, already knowing how weak your knees had gotten at the site of him adjusting his watch. Oh, you wanted to dissolve into a pile of warm syrup, and you bit your lips to hide a dopey, lovesick grin.

Another, more repressed part, wanted to grab his tie in a single fist and yank the handsome man toward you, climbing over the counter and kissing him all over until his white shirt was stained with your lip gloss, his immaculate hair was messed up by your fingers and his cologne had rubbed off on your skin instead. You forced that part of yourself into the corner because she seriously needed a time-out.

"Um, hey?"

This was the first time he had spoken, clearly noticing how you just stood awkward frozen in time. Oh god, his voice was so much more attractive than you remembered. This wasn't fair.

"H-Hi, where are you going off to so prim and proper?" You asked, pulling yourself together by pinching your thigh so painfully that you could feel a bruise beginning to form.

"Oh, I just have a meeting at work. I do most of the work from home, but I’m needed in the office today." He explained, handing you his card like clockwork and you nodded, stepping away so you could start making his drink.

"Wow, how adult." You mused, shaking the tumbler quickly before pouring it into his cup and handing it to him.

"You look good, by the way," His warm fingertips grazed against your own when you handed him the tissue and straw. You watched as a bashful smile grew on his face at your compliment, making your heart flutter like a feather floating through the wind, "Much better than Red Robin."

He rolled his eyes, small smile turning into a full-blown grin.

***

This was the first time since you had met Tim that he hadn't come to the bakery alone and thus it would be the first time in a very long time that you actually had to take the order instead of automatically input his drink order.

Unfortunately, it would also be the last time you would be taking his order. You were supposed to work at the coffee shop for the rest of the month, however you had gotten an opportunity from your professor to be a part of his research team for the next semester and he required you to begin early. Which meant that you would no longer have the time to work for your aunt.

You had yet to tell Tim, upset at the thought of not being able to see him every morning from now onwards.

You had thought long and hard about it last night after you had confirmed your participation on the research team; you didn't want it to be the last time that you spoke to Tim tomorrow, you wanted him in your life.

So, you came to the conclusion that you would finally confess to him. You didn't want to continue the pining and end up in the purgatory that is the friendzone so you figured it would be the least risky to admit your feelings to him on your last day there. If he said no, you'd no longer have to run into him again every morning. If anything, he might be relieved that his regular coffee runs wouldn't be awkward from now on.

However, there was one new detail that was going to make your plan more embarrassing—

"This is my older brother, Dick." Tim introduced and you nodded, recalling when he talked about his extremely big family. Also, there was no one in city who wasn't aware of the Gotham prince, Dick Grayson, the oldest son of billionaire Bruce Wayne. Your eyes flittered between the both of them; despite being adopted, they shared a striking resemblance to each other.

You gave him a kind smile, "It's nice to finally meet you, Tim talks about you a lot."

"Good things, I hope." He responded, ever the ray of sunshine and you found yourself turning toward him like a lone sunflower. You realized he had that effect on people, the other customers also were privy to his presence. It was almost like he had a halo shining on the top of his head. The term 'Prince of Gotham' was certainly well-earned.

"Those are state secrets." You joked, playfully winking at him and he gave you a good-natured grin.

"So, what will you be having today?"

Tim ordered his regular and Dick got a matcha along with a vegan cheese tart for 'Dami' who you assumed was Tim's youngest brother Damian.

Tim held his card out for you to pay for their drinks and you inhaled sharply, digging your heel into your other foot to strengthen your resolve.

It was now or never, (Y/N).

You shook your head, trying your best to remain nonchalant even though your stomach was taking a rollercoaster ride, and you pins began to prick at your toes from how hard you were stepping on it with your other foot.

"it's on the house."

Tim tried to protest but you shut him down, not even making any moves to try and take his card from him, only handing him his receipt with the order number on it.

"Don't let your boss find out you're handing out freebies to everyone." He teased, sliding his card back into his wallet and you dug your nails into your palm, trying not to chicken out in the last second.

"Actually, the freebies are only for the cute customers that the barista has a crush on." You replied smoothly, grabbing the filter for the espresso machine and not looking back at Tim, afraid of his reaction.

Oh god, was your voice shaking? You tried your best to remain collected on the outside even though on the inside your heart was erupting like a volcano, magma flowing through your veins and setting your entire body ablaze.

You spared a small glance at his older brother, embarrassed that he was here to witness this. A sizzling heat began to run up your neck and to your cheeks, fingers stiff as you tamped the coffee.

A chuckle brought you out of your stupor and your stomach sank. It wasn't the usual laugh that Tim had, instead a mirthless sound that made you look back up at him, only to find him staring at the receipt you had given him, now crumpled him in a tight fist.

"Glad I’m the exception then," He said through gritted teeth, "I’m gonna go."

He left without making so much as another glance at you and your cheeks coloured in humiliation when you had realized his brother had seen that whole interaction with an equal expression of shock and pity that made you quickly bite down on an ice cube to prevent any tears from lining your lashes.

You quickly made the drinks, reminding yourself that it was okay since you were never gonna see him again, keeping your customer service smile on until his brother had left the store and then some before you finally let it fall.

***

"Dude, what the hell is wrong with you?" Dick asked, placing Tim's coffee order on the console of the bat computer, already finished his matcha. The coffee had long been watered down; the ice had melted in the Gotham heat on his walk back home since Tim had just left him there at the coffee shop.

The younger brother ignored him, staring at the screen with a glare that began to get increasingly annoyed. When it became clear to him that Dick wasn't going to move from his side until he got an answer, Tim finally sighed "I’m sorry for ditching you at the coffee shop."

"Apology accepted but that's not what I meant. Why were you so mean to that poor girl? I mean if you didn't like her, you could've at least turned her down gently."

Tim scoffed, incredibly peeved, "Are you stupid? She was clearly asking you out! I've been going there for like 2 months now and she's never been so blushy and nervous before you walked in there with your stupid tall height and stupid big grin and stupid good looks!"

Dick's jaw dropped open; blue eyes wide with shock. Wasn't Timothy meant to be like the smartest and most logical one amongst them? As far as he knew he was also acknowledged by R’as Al Ghul himself as a remarkable detective. Hell, he had discovered the dark knight's secret identity when he was nine.

And yet—

"Are you fucking stupid? She wasn't asking me out! That cute little flirty compliment was clearly directed at you!"

Tim still looked upset, though Dick could clearly see that he was beginning to doubt his conclusions. Thank goodness, he didn't inherit Bruce’s or his brother's stubbornness.

"So, you like her but thought she was hitting on me, so you got all emo?" Dick deftly deduced, watching as an embarrassed rash spread across his pale skin, "Dude, you really hurt her feelings. I think she was about to cry when you walked out like that."

You had really tried to look like Tim's exit hadn't affected you and to an untrained eye it probably would've looked like that, but Dick noticed how you were chewing down on your bottom lip til it bled just to prevent from crying.

Tim's eyes now raised to him, now completely uncertain with a touch of guilt and Dick sighed.

He wasn't the son of the greatest detective for nothing, but it wouldn't take years of training to know what a lovesick boy looked like. He had found out that Tim had been visiting this particular coffee shop every day at the same time when he flat out refused to have Alfred’s French press in favour of driving across town to the penthouse, he'd sometimes sleep in just to get coffee.

Tim would never refuse Alfred’s French press unless he was unconscious. Or dead.

Which lead Dick to do some sleuthing.

Didn't take any effort to check his credit card statement and find out that he had been visiting this particular store every single day. Which is really the reason that Dick tagged along that day, to meet the girl who had so clearly captured his little brother's attention.

He was honestly giddy when he realized that you were shooting your shot right in front of him. Oh, he could see the wedding happening before his eyes already, where he would very obviously make his groomsman speech, telling the crowd how he had been there the day you finally became a couple.

But Tim merely crushed up the paper receipt in his hand before storming out and he was left alone in the coffee shop, having to watch as Tim's future wife kept her gaze anchored to the floor while she tried to make the coffee that she had just given them for free. He left a fifty in the tip jar right then.

This would not be the last time that his brother would do something stupid throughout the duration of your relationship. He supposed you might have dodged a bullet due to the misunderstanding but Dick was biased toward his brother and so he felt obligated to try and get you both together.

"Are you sure?"

Dick pinched the bridge of his nose, "Tim, she didn't even speak to me after you left because she was so upset that the guy she had a crush on brutally turned her down."

His eyes narrowed still, "Are you sure?"

This time Dick had had it. He grabbed Tim's ear, unaffected by his shouts of pain and curses at him as he dragged him toward the elevator, "Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, you go back to that coffee shop, apologize for being a jackass and ask her out. And you better take her to a fancy ass restaurant on your first date to make up for this mess."

"Okay! Okay!" Tim conceded, finally ripping his brother's hand from his ear and he crossed his arms, "You know, this wouldn't have even happened if you hadn't been a nosy ass and followed me to the coffee shop."

"This wouldn't have happened if you weren't an idiot either."

***

Tim had been silent during the patrol and while he wasn't the most talkative, it was unlike him to be this quiet. They were already an hour into the patrol and batman had yet to hear this voice of his son over the comms, but he didn't ask about it. He'd inquire about his son's personal life after patrol when he was back to being his parent and not his partner.

Something was definitely off however, since even Nightwing was more on the quiet side of the spectrum that night, which was extremely out of the ordinary.

It all had to do with what happened right before patrol--

Tim really hoped that Jason wouldn't kill him for stealing one of his motorcycles that he left at the manor but honestly it was the fastest way for him to get to the coffee shop without getting stuck in Gotham traffic. And really if Jason didn't want anyone to be using his motorcycle, he really shouldn't have left it in the garage with the keys there for anybody to take. Hadn't he learnt his lesson after Damian had tried to take one of Bruce’s cars?

Even though there were still a couple of hours for closing time, when Tim entered the store, you were nowhere to be found. Hearing the bell, your aunt had answered from the kitchen instead, telling him that she'd be right there in a moment.

When she finally emerged, wiping her hands on her apron, she stopped, recognizing Tim as a regular but he could tell that she didn't really know anything about him or even his name, "What can I get you?"

He angled his neck, trying to see if someone was in the kitchen but when he couldn't spot anything he turned back to your aunt who waited patiently, "Um, is (Y/N) not here?"

"Ah," She shook her head, "Since it was her last day working here, I let her go early."

Oh, Tim really should've had his coffee today because the caffeine withdrawal was starting to make him hear things. He could've sworn he just heard your aunt say that it was your last day working at the coffee shop.

"Last day? What do you mean?"

Tim returned to the Batcave just in time for patrol, shoulders hunched over and a pitiful frown on his face that had answered Nightwing’s question before he could even ask how it went. He didn't say anything else, just walking over to the change rooms without so much as a glance to his father or younger brother.

Understandably, your aunt refused to give your phone number to Tim considering she had no idea of your relationship with him. If there was any relationship anymore. You clearly had every intention to not be in his life anymore if he had turned you down, explaining why you decided to confess on your last day.

He had asked your aunt to pass his number to you but there was no telling whether she actually would or if you would call him even if she did.

And in retrospect it would be fairly easy for him to find your number or address or which university you went to, but how was he meant to explain how he coincidentally managed to run into you before explaining the misunderstanding and confessing his feelings?

His mind was wracked with questions, and he continued to beat himself up for thinking that you had been flirting with Dick in the first place. If he hadn't been such an idiot, he could've avoided this whole mess and could've avoided upsetting you.

Now even if he managed to find you, there was always a possibility that his reaction managed to turn you off and change your mind.

"Woah Timmy isn't that the girl you like?"

Dick's voice cut across the unusual silence for that night, ringing in his ears so suddenly that for a second, he didn't even register what he had said.

However, when he did, it was almost comical the way his head lurched up like a meercat, spotting Nightwing’s figure a couple of buildings away and immediately grappling toward him, nearly throwing himself off the side of the terrace trying to spot you.

You stepped out of Gotham university, hands clutching a binder to your chest. Tim wasn't sure what had his heart beating faster—the sight of your frost-bitten nose, tinged red from the cold—or that you weren't alone.

You were laughing with a man who, much to Tim’s dismay, was undeniably good-looking and wearing a lab coat, which meant he was clearly smart and shared your interests and oh you both were going to get married, and he was going to be alone and coffeeless for the rest of his life.

"What are they saying?!" Tim leant over the edge of the roof like a right fool.

"This is beginning to get creepy, baby bird." Dick commented from behind him, but all Tim could tell him was to shut up because he couldn't hear just what had you giggling so animatedly.

"it's great that undergrads get a chance to be on a research team; I know it might not seem like much but it's gonna look great on your resume, (Y/N)."

You narrowed your eyes teasingly, "You're just saying that because you're relieved someone is gonna be doing the literature review and wash your empty beakers."

The junior assistant, a postgrad student was in charge of showing you around the lab and giving you a list of your responsibilities. Since it was short notice, you were going to have to learn the ropes quite quickly so as to look competent to the other professors.

He laughed, patting your shoulder and you could've sworn you heard a sound similar to a bird shrieking from above you, "You caught me there. But you'll get your name on your first research paper so that's there."

"I am but a modern-day Cinderella." You grinned, walking with him til he reached his car. He sat in the driver's seat, not yet closing the door when he called out for you just as you were beginning to walk away, "Are you sure you don't want a ride home?"

You smiled but shook your head, "No, thank you, maybe next time."

You watched him pull out of the parking space before driving away, wondering whether you should wait for the bus or just take a cab back home. The next bus wasn't for another 25 minutes, and you didn't want to wait around in the dark, however, a cab would be four times the amount you'd spend using the bus.

You suppose you could've called your father and asked him to pick you up from the university, but he had just gotten home from work, and you would hate to ask him to have to come and get you.

You sighed and muttered underneath your breath, "I should've just asked him to take me home." before beginning your trudge home. A part of you was scolding yourself for taking possibly the most dangerous route home but the other part reminded yourself that it was unlikely for anything to happen.

Besides, you had seen Nightwing patrol the area earlier that night and it was way too early for the bats to turn in for the night. With any luck, he was still roaming around here.

***

Looking back, taking a shortcut through an alleyway wasn't the smartest plan you had ever made. However, you were lucky enough because it seemed like the bats had been watching over you for the night; you didn't even have the chance to get mugged before Red Robin has scared off your potential attackers. You hadn't even noticed them creeping up behind you.

You simply stared at him, starstruck. It was the first time you had ever come into contact with the Gotham cryptids and you had least expected an encounter with the most elusive of them, Red Robin.

You had known he had black hair but through a screen it had really looked more like oily snakes that had further cemented your belief that they were demons.

But up close, his hair was soft and silky, he smelt of sweat and grime but with a slight tinge of cologne hidden underneath. You continued to stare at him, feeling like you could tattoo the sight of him onto your retinas.

"Um," You began, not sure how to even begin the conversation. Should you thank him for saving your life? Or apologize for being an inconvenience. Instead, you found yourself following his gaze to the lapel of your lab coat, only to find him staring at the Red Robin insignia pinned there. It was then you had been reminded of the same interaction with Tim Drake.

"Just so you know, you're way better looking than Tim Drake."

You were in slight awe of Red Robin and also still heartbroken over Tim Drake's scorn earlier that day, so you felt the need to settle the score with him even though it would clearly never make its way back to him.

Afterall what were the chances that the vigilante Red Robin knew the trust fund baby Tim Drake? They didn't exactly run in the same circles.

The masked man just stared at you in surprise, quite frozen after your declaration and honestly you couldn't blame him. He had just saved your life and instead of thanking him you began complimenting his good looks while at the same time insulting a completely random man, when really you had no business doing because you didn't really know what he looked like.

Though the more you stared at his face, finding your eyes drawing lines down the same jawline, cupid's bow, and nose bridge, you couldn't help but find similarities between the man you had just compared him to—

You physically shook the thought out of your head.

"Okay, then," You finished, finally turning around to walk away from him, having had enough of standing awkwardly in the middle of the alley, "Thank you agai—!"

"(Y/N), wait!" His gloved fingers clasped around your wrist, and you cut yourself off abruptly, staring up at him in surprise. It seemed his response had surprised him as well, considering the way he continued to stare at you. You couldn't really see his wide-eyed gaze due to the domino, but you could tell from the slight gap of his mouth and the raised brow.

Your lashes fluttered as you lowered your eyes to the hand still around your own, his voice echoing through your head. He had a modulator but this close to him it felt like you could hear the voice underneath it. His voice was crisper, cleaner and lighter underneath the automated depth, you could hear it just slightly through the syllables of your name.

You looked back at the whites of his mask, "How did you know my name?"

You weren't accusing him of anything, at least he didn't think so, not from your voice. You sounded genuinely curious and your eyes ping-ponged over his features, trying to find something. Then he noticed the ways they slightly narrowed before you whispered, "Tim?"

His jaw went slack, eyes going so comically wide now that you had just known you knocked the hammer right on the head. He took a step back, finally releasing your hand and you cupped your gaping mouth, in shock yourself.

"Wait seriously?! I was just guessing! Why on earth would you make it so obvious!" You chastised.

"I’m sorry, ok?! I didn't have any coffee today and so my brain isn't braining today!"

You crossed your arms over your chest, "And who's fault is that? You're the one who stormed out of the cafe after rejecting me—after I literally gave your drinks for free!"

Red Robin—Tim winced, rubbing the back of his neck as his gaze fluttered guiltily away from yours, "That was...not my best moment."

"Not your best moment? You acted like I spat on your whole family and condemned you to death!" Okay perhaps you were being a tad bit dramatic, but it had been an extremely long day, and you kept being presented with new information which was a lot to take.

You were just a girl, for god's sake!

"Ok, in my defense, I thought you were confessing to my brother—not me! So, if anything, I was upset that you might like my family a little too much!" He retaliated and you gaped at him, incredulous.

"You are just—wow, unbelievable." You finally breathed. Truthfully, you didn't know what to even do now, something told you that you weren't going to be able to walk home completely unharmed. Since you knew his identity, the worst that could happen was that one of his bat friends was hanging over you to put you out of your misery. Best case scenario, you'd sign an NDA and be on your merry way home.

"I’m sorry, (Y/N). This is all my fault, I was being an idiot earlier and I got insecure cuz I thought you were asking out my brother which stung cuz I’ve been crushing on you for like months now." He finally admitted, holding his gaze low.

If you hadn’t been deafened by the sound of your heart pounding wildly in your chest at his confession, you would’ve given him a hard time about how nervous he seemed—just as you had been before he so brutally turned you down.

"You like me?" Your question, simple as it was, still managed to make Tim's heartrate escalate.

"Yes—I mean, of course—How could I not?"

You blushed, a gleeful response already on the tip of your tongue. Well, you would have, if you hadn’t suddenly been shrouded in a bat-shaped shadow that had you instinctively pressing yourself closer to Tim.

"Oh, I’m so dead." Tim muttered under his breath the second he had caught the figure of his father standing atop a building, having heard everything over the comms.

Your eyes widened and you stepped closer to him, a hand tightening around the utility belt strapped to his chest. You had remembered the rumours of what had happened to the second robin.

Tim's attention was snapped back to you the second he heard your sharp intake of breath, "N-Not literally, really (Y/N). I’m probably just gonna get grounded."

That got you to loosen your grip with a relieved sigh, relaxing and letting go.

"Grounded? As in Red Robin is grounded. Or Tim Drake?"

"Probably Tim Drake, Red Robin is still needed in the field. Maybe both." He admitted with a wince, and you have him a gentle pat on the chest that was meant to be a kind of 'there, there'. He gave you a small smile, gloved fingers holding the hand to his chest.

"I suppose our first date will have to wait, huh?"

Tim would be lying if a part of him hadn't kind of expected you to rethink everything. I mean, he had been so mean to you when turning you down after jumping to wild conclusions at no fault of your own. Then there was also his secret that he had been stupid enough to reveal to you.

You didn't deserve this; you deserved much better.

Still these thoughts were extremely fleeting, easily overthrown by his feeling of giddiness and outright joy, a blinding grin taking over his face.

"I guess so. I'll make it up to you, though—Dinner's on me."

You scoffed, "It better be, I’m standing in an alley 15 minutes past curfew with the identity of one of the illusive bats all because you thought I had a thing for your brother."

If his cheeks weren't already bitten from the cold, you would have watched as they went aflame, "I was young and stupid."

"It was this morning!"

"I was eight hours younger."

***

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

@notslaybabes

@superheroesaremyjam113263

@writers-whirlwind

DC Taglist:

@tchatso

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

@sometimeseverythingsucks

@sokkas-honour

@unstable1902

@lostgirlheart

@missdisapear

@tadpole-san

@isawachickeninatree

@uxavity

@battlenix

@capricorn-stark

@evermoore580

@dumbbitchgalore

@fuckingjinkies

@some-lovely-day

@that-one-fangirl69

@eloriis

[starsintheendlessnight]

The beauty

And pain

Of remember

A person always has one or several memories that they keep with them no matter how time passes. It’s a universal experience that we have all experienced at some point in our lives, it doesn't matter if the memory fades as the days go by bc they are not perfect, in the end they are narratives in construction that in some way marked us as people.

Remember something can be both a beautiful experience and a painful feeling.

Remember helps us to better appreciate things and to understand both our values ​​and past experiences, whether those are moments with family or friends or simply having a good time. They are moments that we adore and keep in our minds with affection but these can also be transformed into a feeling of sadness, a part of us that was taken away from us, a piece of our identity away from us for who knows how long or even forever.

Many times “remember” makes us feel empty bc of what we no longer have and it is because emotional pain doesn't follow a specific script and cannot even be explain only in physiological terms, it’s something more complex and irrational and looking for a specific reason would be like looking for water in the middle of the desert. It hurts us emotionally to have to remember those people who are no longer with us or those happy moments that will never be repeated. Although within that same pain you can find beauty, it is still something irrational and meaningless bc yes, you remember with love and affection but you still feel pain bc of what those people or those moments represented for you and they are simply no longer there.

A memory can appear in many ways, whether it be from a song, a simple word or… Flowers.

Sunflowers are beautiful and radiant flowers that always seem to catch the eye, they are a small reminder that Eurylochus keeps of his home while he resided in Olympus, bright and so cheerful they were the only respite that Eury kept from his already distant home, he took care of them and adore them for the love and nostalgia that they transmitte to him at those moments from which he was separate. Little by little his appreciation turned into pain, a sweet memory of his home transformed into sadness and guilt.

He refused to go back to his flowers, remember his home only made him feel worse about himself. How could he long for something that he did not deserve? The pain stopped being just that and turned into guilt. He did not deserve those flowers, he did not deserve those seconds of escapism and as he did with anything that caused him pain he just turn away and ignored it thinking that everything would be fine if he did not think about it.

As the weeks went by, Eurylochus needed a moment to himself again and he remember his flowers. He wasn't in his best moment and he needed to try to feel again that peace that he felt the first time he saw his sunflowers, but it was too late... His flowers were already dead, he felt distressed bc the only memory of his home was withered before his eyes. He felt pain, but not only because his flowers died. That pain is not going to heal by simply planting others and then as if he hadn't let them die. That pain is about what those flowers represented for him and how he let them go in the face of that pain that made him feel inferior.

Pain is irrational. They may seem like just some flowers, but for Eurylochus they represented much more than that, and it’s in the memory of what he lost that he appreciate and love what gave him calm at the time. His flowers are dead, he let them die but he loves them for the peace of mind they gave him, even though the pain and nostalgia of his far away home is still with him at least he can appreciate it a little more even though he feels sad for remember those good times.

.

.

.

I feel like I'm VERY annoying with the ClosureAU (mostly on Twitter) and I apologize for that again, a new year started and I felt like I needed to do something decent, something meaningful not just a doodle or a funny video. No idea came to mind until I watched some videos of my fav youtubers again and this idea came up. I'm sorry if I'm being so annoying with all the angst I'll try to make not so sad content of the AU I promise. Happy new year to everyone I wish you all the best and thank you for supporting me at all times, I love you all so much 💚

[harrywavycurly]

Worth The Fight: Good Hands

Masterlist: Here

CW: language, pregnancy things, jealousy, angsty bits and some light arguing.

A/N: This one is heavy-ish but has some light hearted moments so be prepared for some angsty bits but I’d say this is a very big step in a direction for them, is it the right direction? Only time will tell👀✨

Tag List: @kookjipao @msolbesg @lomlolivia @namoreno @outofthisworl-d @mema10 @watarmelon212 @natykn @sassamanda77 @st-ev-ie @ghayda0 @hannah9921 @indierockgirrl @chaoticthoughts2022 @lizsogolden @gmikaelson @styleswithaseaview @sofaritsalrightt @babegoals @fangirl509east @one-sweet-gubler @stylesftcher @umadirectioner @last-saturday-night @montgomery-929496 @laughterismytherapy @hisparentsgallerryy @jerseygirlinca

Summary: You decide to do some shopping for the twins while Harry decides he needs to apologize to you even if you’re not ready to hear it✨

You smile at the woman working by the door as you enter the small boutique that’s just down the street from the library you work at, you look around and suddenly feel extremely overwhelmed by the amount of baby things surrounding you. Being nearly thirteen weeks you finally decide that it’s okay to just take a look at things, seeing as you still don’t know if you’re carrying two boys, two girls or one of each you find yourself not exactly sure where to start. You look over and smile when you see a small section of onesies with animals all over them, you adjust your bag on your shoulder as you head over towards the table they are folded and laid out on.

“Oh the peaches will love those.” Ethan’s voice comes from behind you making you laugh as you feel a hand on your shoulder. “How’s my favorite produce dealer doing today? Have you eaten all the cookies my mom sent yet because I need the tin back.” You roll your eyes at the playful nickname he came up with for you ever since you started sharing the size of the twins with him as they grow each week, getting a kick out of the way all your apps are always referring to their sizes as vegetables or fruits.

“They aren’t quite peaches yet they have about four days till then so they are still lemons.” You explain as you rest a hand on your bump while looking at the little outfits on the table in front of you. “But I’m good just feeling tired today and uh no not yet there’s like fifty cookies in that tin Ethan and I may be pregnant but sweets don’t sit well with me right now.” You answer as the hand on your shoulder grabs the strap to your bag and without hesitation you let him take your purse and sling it over his shoulder making you let out a small sigh of relief once the weight of your bag is gone.

“She said they were what she liked when she was pregnant with me but that was also during Christmas time so that’s why they are pretty much all holiday themed.”

“That explains all the gingerbread men.”

“Exactly. So the peaches-”

“Lemons.”

“I mean come on they are pretty much a crossover between lemons and peaches right now so like leaches? Or is that-”

“Do not call my babies leaches Ethan.”

“Right sorry that was rude let’s just go back to looking at the cute and soft onesies okay?” He says in a slight panic not wanting to make you upset in the middle of a baby boutique having already made you accidentally cry in line at the bakery down the street from your apartment when he mentioned how good the blueberry muffins looked, forgetting all about your current aversion to the fruit ever since you tried a blueberry jam that didn’t sit well with you.

“You think the animals are cute? Or they have these.” You lift up a set of onesies that are white with gray and yellow polka dots on them so he can take a look from his spot behind you. “Is the gray and yellow too overdone?” You question as Ethan places a hand on each of your shoulders and gives them a nice rub making you relax as you look at the onesies in your hand.

“Yellow and gray is a classic color combination you can’t go wrong with it.” You let out a hum of agreement as he releases his grip on one of your shoulders so he can reach around you ever so slightly and grab the set with the animals on it. “But these are cute as shit.” He says with a smile as he looks down and sees you still holding the polka doted set.

“I could get both? Right?” Ethan just nods as you look at him with a quirked brow almost as if you’re seeking his approval.

“Excellent idea.” Is all he says before he takes the polka dotted set from your hands and holds it in the same one of his that has the animal set it. You smile as you feel him lean down and place a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m going to go look at all the weird baby gadgets.” He gives your shoulder one last squeeze before he turns and heads off towards the back of the store with the two sets of onesies in his hand and your purse slung over his shoulder.

Harry is chewing on his bottom lip as he walks down the street towards the library you work at, wondering if he’s doing the right thing coming to see you at work again when you haven’t reached out to him since the lunch at his mother’s house. He doesn’t want to make it a habit to just show up at your work when you refuse to speak to him or he can’t get ahold of you but right now he feels like this is the only way he can guarantee he will be able to talk to you. It’s been over two weeks and he just wants to get some things off his chest and maybe see if the two of you can start over and try to get to know each other a bit so the arguing can come to a stop or at the very least can be toned down. It’s not like he’s expecting the two of you to be bestfriends or anything, he just wants to be able to have normal conversations with you that don’t end with you in tears or annoyed with him.

He runs a hand through his hair and he feels as if the wind gets knocked out of him when he turns to his left and looks in the window of a store, he has to push his sunglasses into his hair so he can make sure he’s seeing things clearly and that the dark lenses weren’t causing him to mistake the person for someone else but the moment his eyes see the smile on the woman’s face he knows exactly who it is. You’re standing in front of a table of baby clothes but before he can even register that you’re looking at clothes for the twins, he quickly notices you’re not alone and all Harry can do is stand there and watch the scene unfold in front of him. He watches your neighbor stand behind you and place both of his hands on your shoulders and Harry feels his brows furrow as his eyes narrow into a glare at the way you seem to relax at his touch.

It’s then that Harry takes in the bag that’s slung over the man’s shoulder, it’s the godawful thing you call a purse and he doesn’t understand why he’s the one with it over his shoulder instead of you. Of all the times he’s been around you that bag is always over your shoulder and you’re either fighting with it to find something or trying to keep it in place making him assume you have a thing about keeping your bag with you. He feels his mouth drop into a frown as it dawns on him that maybe it’s not so much you like to keep it on you at all times, it’s just that Harry hasn’t ever tried or offered to take it from you minus when he snatched it from you in your hallway when you told him you didn’t want him to come inside.

Harry feels the all too familiar simmering of jealousy begin to bubble deep inside him as he realizes that to anyone passing by the two of you would seem like a normal couple shopping for baby things in this cute little boutique that just so happens to be a few minutes away from your work. They would have no clue that the babies the two of you are looking at onesies for are actually his, that the man currently making you smile is nothing more than just your neighbor you’re friends with or at least that’s all Harry thinks he is to you, a friend. That changes the moment he watches the man place a kiss to the top of your head, a very soft display of affection that has Harry’s hands clenching into fists at his sides because why is another man that he doesn’t even know the name of not only baby clothes shopping with you but also touching and now kissing on you in public while he can’t even manage to get you to want talk to him.

Harry decides he’s seen enough as he turns and heads back in the direction of his car that’s parked in some over priced daily parking garage because he was in too much of a rush to call for his driver and also because a part of him wanted to prove to you that he can in fact drive himself places when he needs or wants to. He slides his sunglasses back down so they cover his eyes, allowing his emotions to be somewhat hidden from the strangers passing him on the sidewalk while he reaches into his back pocket for his phone. His first instinct is to call his mom and talk through this with her, why seeing you out with someone else buying things for the twins is making him feel this way but he shakes his head as he scrolls past her contact because he has a feeling he knows what she’s going to say and he doesn’t exactly want to have that conversation right now. So he scrolls down to the name that he knows won’t ask questions and hopefully in a few hours Harry will forget all about what he saw in the window of that little shop and he’ll be able to try again tomorrow on telling you sorry.

“Hey H you finally have time for a round?” Harry laughs at how excited Niall sounds on the other end of the phone as he enters the main level of the parking garage his car is in.

“I do but uh not the kinda round you’re thinking of.” Harry says with a sigh and in true Niall fashion he just laughs and tells Harry to pick the pub and he’ll see him soon before hanging up.

“Oh fuck this hallway is so long-wait what floor is this?” Harry squints as he exits the elevator and when he sees the number five on the plaque on the wall he lets out a sigh of relief.

“Thank god.” He mumbles as he turns and heads down the hallway, half tempted to put his sunglasses back on due to the obnoxiously bright lights coming from the ceiling that while doing a good job at helping him see where he’s going and which apartment he’s walking by, are also intensifying the throbbing in the back of his head.

When he reaches the doors he’s looking for he closes his eyes just for a brief moment because keeping them closed for too long makes him a little dizzy. As soon as he opens them he raises a hand to knock, not caring about the fact it’s near three in the morning because to Harry it’s a new day and he has things he needs to tell you. He stands there and rests a hand on your doorframe as he waits for you to answer, when he doesn’t even hear the sound of you moving around on the other side of the door he knocks two more times because unlike the last time he was here knocking on your door he knows you’re home having seen your sad little car in the parking lot when his driver pulled into the complex.

“I know you’re home you’ve-you’ve got to be home.” He mumbles with a sigh as he turns so his back is resting against your door, before he can even stop himself he feels his body sliding down it until his bottom is hitting the floor and his legs are stretched out in front of him.

“I’m-I’m sorry I’m so sorry.” His voice is strained as he tries to get comfortable resting against your door, finally deciding to put his sunglasses back on in an effort to help slow down the throbbing that’s making its way from the back of his head towards his temples. He rests his head against your door with a groan as he tries to gather his thoughts so he can try to explain to you why he’s been acting the way he has ever since you told him you were pregnant.

You have to close your eyes and take a few deep breaths to get your emotions under control as you stand on the other side of the door that you now know is being used at a backrest for a slightly drunk Harry. You didn’t need to look through the peephole to know it was him, you knew by the first set of knocks and the mumbled voice that you could hear from your bedroom that it was Harry because he’s the only person that would ever bother you at this hour unless it was an emergency but even then normally people just call or text you, not show up at your door. You place a hand on your bump that’s covered by your nightshirt and give it a soothing rub as you stand there, deciding that even though you’re not ready to see him you’ll let him sit there and get whatever it is he needs to say off his chest so he can go home.

“I shouldn’t have left you that day-uhm during the exam.” He says as he looks up towards the ceiling. You swallow the lump that’s already forming in your throat, as being woken up abruptly and now hearing him apologize start to make a mess of your emotions that have already been kind of all over the place recently.

“I’m sorry I keep saying the wrong things and-and hurting you s’not what I want ya know? To hurt you.” Harry sniffles and lets out a sarcastic sounding scoff at his own words as you look down at your ankles and smile at Paris who has taken an almost protective stance, standing between you and the door. “S’hard to believe I know but fuck-you’re just so relaxed all the time n’it freaked or-really it freaks me out a bit.” He admits making you roll your eyes while he runs both hands through his hair.

“But my uhm therapist says s’a control thing an that’s why I lash out at you.” You quirk an eyebrow at the mention of his therapist, feeling a bit shocked he’s spoken to anyone besides Anne about the two of you.

“Because you-you have all the control here and have since day one like you-even when you told me you were pregnant you just I don’t know? You had it all figured out already? You were having a baby with or without me while I was fumbling around and panicking and deep down I uh know that you-you don’t need me and that’s sort of uhm my thing? I need to be needed I’m a bit of a narcissist and-and you just don’t need me like- at all and I mean that’s-that’s fine or I’m learning to uhm be fine with it.” You feel your heart drop at how sincere he sounds as he speaks between little sniffles, you know his emotions are getting the best of him when it’s quiet for a moment minus a watery sigh and then you have to close your eyes and fight back the tears that want to spill over as you hear his voice sound so desperate as it comes through your door.

“But I need you Cranky I need-I need you because I need them so just-just tell me what to do and I’ll do it okay?” Harry lets a few tears roll down his face as he practically begs you to just tell him what to do to make this situation right.

“Please.” He whispers in a last ditch effort to get you to talk to him. You let out a deep breath before you reach out and unlock your door and turn the knob so you can open it. Harry feels his heart begin to beat quicker and before he can even register that you’re really opening the door and willing to see him and possibly talk to him he finds himself laying flat on his back looking up at you from the floor, the shots he took with Niall a few hours ago making his reflexes slower than normal not giving him time to move from his sitting position with his back resting on your door before you swung it open.

“Hi Harry.” You say with a small smile as you look down at him, Harry just smiles as he reaches for the sunglasses still covering his eyes quickly pulling them off so he can get a better look at you.

“Cranky you’ve-wow.” You raise an eyebrow at him suddenly feeling a little self concious as his eyes go a bit wide as he takes in how much bigger your bump looks, especially from the angle he’s currently getting from his spot on the floor. “Lemons still right? Peaches in four-no wait now three days?” He asks and you just nod as you place both hands on your bump while he takes his time getting up, feeling a bit dizzy due to looking up from his back for too long.

“Do you mind uhm staying in-”

“Yeah yeah that’s fine I uh-I’m sorry for waking you up.” He says when you motion towards the hallway once he’s up and standing, already knowing what you’re asking of him, and he will happily stand in the hallway while the two of you talk because he’s just happy you actually opened the door. You open your mouth to say something but then you hear the jingling of a bell and both you and Harry look down and find Paris rubbing his head on Harry’s shin and you have to hold back a laugh as Harry’s eyes widen in fear.

“Oh god Paris please don’t-oh fuck god damnit that hurts.” Paris just purrs and rubs the same ankle he just took a bite of before he turns and heads back into your apartment, strutting off towards the kitchen as if he’s proud of himself for what he’s just done. “I deserved that.” Harry mumbles making you just shrug as he runs a hand over his face.

“So Mr. Popular is a narcissist huh? I never would’ve guessed.” Harry feels his cheeks get hot at your teasing words. He sniffles a bit and rubs the tip of his nose with the knuckle of his index finger while giving you a small shrug because he’s not sure what to say. “I appreciate you coming here to apologize Harry but uhm I also know you’re a little-”

“I’m not that drunk-m’tipsy at best and I swear I’d say the same things sober.”

“I believe you but it’s just everything can sort of seem a bit more emotional and heavy when said at three in the morning outside an apartment door after too many whiskey sours.”

“Who talks like that? Honestly you-you spend too much time surrounded by books.”

“Harry-”

“I’m sorry that was rude.” He lets out a sigh as he looks down at his feet. “I don’t know why I do this? Why I can’t help myself sometimes I just-you’re so easy to argue with?” You rub your lips together to hold off the smile that wants to form because he looks so distraught standing there with a hand in his hair and another on his hip as he tries to make sense of his need to just bicker with you as if it’s all his fault and you don’t also enjoy how easy it is to rile him up.

“You’re fairly easy to set off and I seem to know exactly how to do it.” Harry lifts his head to look at you as you start to speak. “We both enjoy a bit of back and forth but sometimes Harry you just say things that are very hurtful and very hard to take back.” You explain as you look down at your hands that are on your bump, trying not to think about some of the things he’s said to you in the past that have made you upset.

“I know and I’m-I’m working on that.”

“With your therapist?” You ask as you look up at him and he just nods making you feel that there might actually be a some hope that the two of you will be able to figure this whole communication thing out. “So are you really ready to be apart of this then?” Harry takes a very small step towards you just so he can reach a hand out, you look at it questioningly for a moment before you give in and place one of your hands in his.

“I don’t want to be outside the window.” He says as he gives your hand a squeeze, you look at him with a slightly confused expression because you’re not entirely sure what he means by that but you don’t want to ruin the moment so you just let him continue. “I want to be the one inside with you looking at baby stuff and holding your god awful fucking bag and-”

“Well well well if it isn’t Mr. Asshole himself.” Ethan’s voice coming from down the hall makes Harry’s eyes go wide as he drops your hand while you turn and look at your neighbor who you know is just getting home from work. “I see you’re really living up to that nickname since you have her up out of bed at this ungodly hour.” You roll your eyes at him as Harry turns so he’s facing Ethan who is now only a few steps away from the two of you.

“It’s Mr. Popular not-”

“Aren’t assholes usually popular? So it’s basically the same thing.”

“It’s nowhere near the same and-who even are you? Besides the guy who feeds her cat on Fridays?”

“I’m Ethan her neighbor but also the friend who picked her up from your mom’s house crying a week and a half ago.” Harry’s face goes pale as he realizes your neighbor is the one who came and got you from lunch, you watch Ethan take a step so he’s standing in front of his door facing Harry as he swings his key ring around his index finger a few times.

“Oh and I’m the guy who she calls when she needs something because unlike you Mr. Gucci sunglasses even though it’s dark outside-” Ethan takes his time eyeballing Harry’s attire before he continues. “I’m a source of comfort for her and those little peaches. I’m also right across the hall so I’m always available.” You feel the tension in the air as Ethan glares at Harry who is glaring right back but with a clenched jaw and a hand balled into a fist at his side.

“Those little peaches? You mean lemons?”

“Really? That’s-that’s what you got out of that?”

“I mean I think it shows that you might be the comforting neighbor.” You begin to chew on your bottom lip as Ethan crosses his arms over his chest and raises an eyebrow at the slightly tipsy man in front of him. “But clearly I’m their dad because I actually know how big they are.” You can’t help but chuckle at how proud Harry looks when he says the word dad while Ethan just rolls his eyes making you move to the side a bit from your spot behind Harry so Ethan can see you allowing you to give him a warning type glare.

“Oh so now you’re ready to be a dad huh? Well good. I’m glad because honestly picking out baby shit isn’t really a good look for me.”

“Either is holding her purse-that thing looks hideous on you.”

“I mean it’s a hideous bag-wait what? When have you ever seen me with her purse?”

“Today or uh technically yesterday? In that shop near her uhm work.” Harry admits shyly and that’s when it all clicks, his mentioning of the window and looking at baby things, it’s because he saw you and Ethan at the boutique. You close your eyes and run a hand over your face as a long sigh escapes you making both men turn their heads to look at you.

“Is that why you got drunk and came knocking at my door?” Harry swallows hard as he all of a sudden feels a wave of nervousness wash over him because he doesn’t want his answer to ruin the slight progress that’s been made while standing outside your door this morning.

“Uh well-yes that’s sort of the reason why I met Niall-”

“Niall? Niall Horan? Is he here?” Harry turns to look at Ethan with a quirked brow as your neighbor looks up and down the hallway for any signs of the Irish popstar.

“Uh no he’s at home.” He answers making Ethan let out a huff while Harry turns his attention back to you. “But the whole reason I even saw you two was because uhm well because I was on my way to the library to see you. I just needed to talk to you and tell you how sorry-”

“You can’t just show up at my work whenever you want because you need to talk to me Harry especially when you know how it went the last time we even saw each other that’s just-that’s not okay.” Harry just nods because he already knew that, before he even got in his car to drive to your work to see you he knew it probably wasn’t a good idea but he had to do something and that was the only thing that he could think of.

“I know I won’t do it again.”

“Wait you saw us at that boutique and that’s why you went and got drunk on a Wednesday?” Ethan’s voice takes Harry’s attention away from you and you watch Ethan place his keys in his back pocket before putting his hands on his hips.

“I don’t like what you’re implying.”

“What I’m implying? Dude I’m not implying shit. Just admit it you got jealous-”

“Jealous? Jealous of what? Of you? Yeah right State Farm.” You take a step around Harry so you can be ready to stop the two of them from getting any closer to each other when you see Harry take a step towards Ethan.

“State Farm? That’s cute and honestly it’s true because I am a good neighbor but do you see these?” Harry’s brows furrow as Ethan wiggles his fingers a few inches away from Harry’s face. “I am clearly Allstate because she is very much in good hands.” You roll your eyes at the two of them as you cross your arms over your chest not believing the conversation they are having in front of you.

“What does he mean by that? You’re in good hands? Have you-you been in his hands?” Ethan has to bring a hand up to cover his mouth to hide his laugh as Harry quickly turns to look at you with frantic eyes while he runs a hand through his hair. You let out a sigh and glare at Ethan who is quick to turn around and face his door so he can unlock it.

“What? No we aren’t-”

“I’m sorry it’s not uhm it’s not uh-not my business I’m sorry.” Harry fumbles over his words as he begins to turn taking a few steps backwards towards the elevators as his mouth drops to a frown and you feel the corners of your own mouth fall a bit at how hurt he looks. “It’s fine really I uhm I gotta go.” You want to tell him to stop and just let you explain your friendship with Ethan but Harry doesn’t give you a chance because before you can even open your mouth he’s turning around so his back is facing you and he’s three steps away from you. But you know you can’t let him leave like this so you let out a huff and take a step towards him and call his name.

He pauses and looks over his shoulder as his name falls from your mouth. “Tell Nick I said hello?” He gives you a small smile and nods as you mention his driver who is waiting for him in the parking lot down stairs.

“Yeah I’ll uh I’ll do that.” You smile and before he turns to head towards the elevators you see a very familiar glint appear in his eyes as the corners of his mouth curl up in a smirk. “Goodnight Cranky.”

“You mean good morning Mr. Popular.” You correct making him laugh and shake his head as he turns and continues down the hallway because of course you just have to correct him because of course you just have to be right.

“Oh he totally thinks we are fucking.” Ethan says with a laugh as he stretches his neck a bit just in time to see Harry step into the elevator. As soon as he’s out of sight you turn and give Ethan a smack to the chest making him let out a pitiful sounding groan. “So violent in front of the children.”

“Don’t be so crude. He at least thinks something is happening here and we both know it’s not.”

“What he doesn’t know won’t kill him.”

“Uh yeah Ethan it actually might? He came here after getting drunk all because he saw us shopping together.”

“Yeah well I say let him suffer a bit and think we are doing something scandalous and then when he’s maybe stopped being an absolute douchebag for more than a day you can tell him the truth.”

“God you just love drama don’t you?”

“I’m a young bisexual man my whole life is drama.” He teases as you stand in your doorway with a hand on your bump and the other resting on your doorframe. “But honesty him showing up here is like-”

“A big deal. I know.” You finish for him, the two of you stare at each other for a moment before Ethan takes the few steps between his door and yours and places a quick kiss to the top of your head.

“Everything is gonna be fine.” He reassures you before he opens his apartment door. You give him a smile when he looks at you over his shoulder. “Sweet dreams Cranky.” He jokes making you roll your eyes as he closes his door.

You can’t help but make a sour face at the sound of your nickname coming from someone else’s mouth besides Harry’s. Not liking how it sounds without his accent and deep tone of voice and how slowly it slips out of his mouth making it sound all the more condescending which is oddly something you enjoy about the way he says it. You turn and walk through your open door and let out a long sigh after you close it, you head back towards your bedroom and smile when you see Paris curled into a ball at the foot of the bed.

“Oh Paris.” You mumble as you climb back into bed making the cat instantly lift his head up and stretch his front paws out at the disturbance. “What just happened?” You ask as you stare at the ceiling trying to make sense of the events that just took place in your hallway, but as the minutes tick by and you find yourself falling asleep you decide you can try to decipher and dig deeper into all of that later because right now all you want to do is go back to sleep and momentarily forget that the man you’re having kids with knocked on your door a three in the morning just to leave in a frantic hurry forty five minutes later.

Harry feels as if he’s a mixed bag of emotions as he steps into the elevator, the first one being confusion because he’s not even sure why he cares if you and your overly friendly neighbor are more than friends because it’s not as if Harry has any sort of claim on you minus the fact he’s the father of the two lemon sized babies you’re carrying. He’s even gone as far as telling you he doesn’t like you enough to care about anyone you find remotely attractive but that brings him to the next emotion, jealousy. Harry has always been the jealous type, that’s just part of his personality but this is something different because he feels as if he could punch a wall at just the memory of seeing Ethan kiss the top of your head and holding your shoulders in such a way that would have people assume he’s your partner of some sort. The most powerful emotion swirling around in Harry’s body though is regret, he regrets walking away and not letting you explain things but he just couldn’t risk having to listen to you tell him you’re in love with Ethan or that you two have only gotten so close because Harry has made you turn to him for comfort and reassurance due to how horrible he’s treated you. He doesn’t think he would be able to stand knowing that it’s his own fault that you ended up in the arms of someone else, not that he wants you in his own arms either because he doesn’t, or at least that’s what he’s telling himself.

“I could go back? Let her tell me-no no that would be dumb.” He argues with himself as he presses the button for the lobby. “Why do I even care? Do I even care? No. No I don’t.” He lets out a frustrated groan as he paces the length of the small elevator while debating with himself. “Exactly. I don’t care. She can be with whoever she wants. That’s fine.”

“I don’t care.” He mumbles as the door opens to the lobby of your apartment complex. He runs a hand over his face as he steps out and heads for the parking lot. He looks around and sees Nick is parked towards the back of the lot, he mentally pats himself on the back for picking a time of day that not a lot of people are out and about so Harry doesn’t have to worry too much about being seen as he walks towards the black suv.

“How’d it go?” Nick asks once Harry is in the backseat of the car. He raises an eyebrow as he looks over his shoulder when hears Harry lets out a long sad sigh.

“Next time I ask you to drive me here past midnight tell me no.” Harry instructs as he slides his sunglasses on and turns to look out the window. Nick just nods before he turns and faces the front so he can start the car and take Harry home.

[ch-4-eri]

Abby sitting on your face because it’s 5am and I’m horny, what’s new?

Abby was trying to convince you that you couldn’t take her weight, that she’d be too heavy for your pretty little head to handle her sitting on your face with her beefy thighs.

But you didn’t care.

You begged her relentlessly to sit on your face, you desperately needed her to crush you, send you into a frenzy, squeeze your brains out till she cums.

Abby ended up agreeing, she didn’t know how you persuaded her, maybe it was those desperate eyes and the needy way you rubbed your thighs together at the thought of something that wasn’t happening yet, but she was so concerned, worried she’d hurt you, that she’d get lost in the euphoria of having her pussy eaten by you she’d forget and put all her weight on you.

But as worried as she was, Abby was excited to try something new with you, you always sat on her face and she had the strength to take you, ravishing you until you’re a twitching mess from pleasure. no matter your size Abby worried for your safety during sex and wouldn’t dream of causing you pain if she could avoid it.

But as she stripped off her clothes, she was immediately wet, just the thought that you were desperate to have her on your face could make her cum this instant.

She crawled up to you, and without hesitation your hands reached for her big thighs and squeezed them, pulling her closer and closer for her to finally settle on your face, her weight was definitely making you unable to breathe but god you were too obsessed with the way she tasted you’d take this over breathing any day.

Your moans were muffled by her thighs as you fingers kneaded them, Abby’s moans were making you ache, desperate for more, the suffocating so worth it as your tongue slides up to her clit and she shudders, holding your hair as she was riding your face; Abby felt so guilty for being so impatient knowing she could hurt you.

“Fuck baby I’m so sorry..” she pants while letting out a guttural moan, you didn’t want her apologies, you wanted her to cum in your mouth.

the pressure on your head was only making this all the more better, your hands grabbed at her ass from behind, her hips, her waist, even her bouncing tits and her gorgeous toned abs, she was fucking gorgeous and she was moaning your name while she fucked your face, this is as close to heaven as you’d get.

Fucking your tongue into her hole wasn’t enough, you wanted to merge into her, to be impossibly close, to hear her moan your name like that all the fucking time.

As your hands were gripping the fat of her hips, one roll of your tongue against her clit and she fell apart, feeling the hot sweet liquid pour out of her pretty pussy down your throat, opening your mouth like you’re thirsty, drinking her up. Sucking and licking her clean as she came down from her high.

Abby slowly got off your head and watched how dazed you were, your cheeks so red from the heat being jammed in one place between her thighs, “you alright, baby…? Did I hurt you? Need some water? ” Abby says in concern, her cheeks and body tingling with the afterglow.

“No, everything I need is between those thighs.” You finally managed to talk. “You’re fucking perfect, I don’t need water, I need you, you’re amazing…” you said, like you were a mindless person, so obsessed with her, with her smell, her gorgeous body, how good she sounded when she was being so vulnerable and open to a new idea and a step further into your relationship.

As you said all that, Abby’s cheeks went red, shying away, you adored this girl more than air itself.

[wlfchnlv3r]

Sugar

Sugar Daddy! Bangchan x Sugar Baby! Fem reader

Synopsis: You find out what happens when you keep your sugar daddy, Bangchan, waiting.

Word count: 800

Warnings: smut, foreplay, blowjob, “punishment”, not the usual relationship, 🔞🔞!

Note: HAPPY NEW YEAR! Let me know if you want more sugar daddy! Stray kids!

The small bar was full of people, laughter and screams filled the room with a lightness you aren’t used to.

You are on a date with one of your male friends, Lee know, the one’s you usually see one time a year (maybe), as the conversation between you two goes on you hear your phone vibrate with a ton of message on the table.

You glance quickly at the screen seeing the name of Bangchan on the screen.

Bangchan is actually your sugar daddy, he helps you to pay for your school tution and yes, you guys often have sex and a few dates at week; not to mention the crush you have on him.

Bangchan

Where are you?

You should be studying at your house, why aren’t you there?

Who are you with?

Are you fucking ignoring me?

You gasp a little seeing his massages, and he’s still typing.

As soon as you read the message he just Sent your eyes widen.

Bangchan

You are playing a dangerous game, y/n, i want you in my office on your knees within the next 15 minutes or you won’t like what is going to happens.

Your try to keep a normal expression and just turn off the phone but for the rest of the date your mind is elsewhere.

As soon as you leave the bar you reach for a cab that will take you to Bangchan’s office.

The ride is not long and in ten minutes you are entering the the building where Chan’s company is located.

You smile politely at his secretary, a blonde girl with high heels, before entering Bangchan’s office.

He leans back in his chair, his eyes fix on the door. His icy gaze scrutinises you as you enter the room, a mix of annoyance and tension on his face. He gestures for you to close the door behind you, his voice cool and composed as he speaks, "Lock the door.".

Your eyes immediately goes to his figure, “chan-“.

His eyes narrows his expression stern as he repeats his directive, "I said, lock the door. Don’t make me say it again.", his voice is cold and authoritative, leaving no room for argument; He leans back in his chair, watching you intently, as if daring you to refuse.

You don’t say anything, and just lock the door behind you.

Once the lock clicks into place, Bangchan rose from his chair, his movement smooth and calculated; He walks towards you, his gaze never leaving your face, his expression now tinges with a hint of anger and possessiveness.

He stops mere inches away from you, his body close but not touching yours, looking down at you, his voice a low, commanding tone, "You kept me waiting.".

You never saw him this angry so you decide to stay silent.

His jaw clenches, the muscles in his face taut with annoyance. He takes a step closer, closing the gap between you, boxing you in with his body against the wall.

Chan presses his hands against the wall on either side of you, trapping you in his proximity, before leaning in, his voice a low, growl, his eyes scanning your face intently, "You're mine, do you hear me?".

You nod, “yes…I’m sorry” that was the only words that escapes your mouth.

His expression softens slightly, his touch gentles as he cups your face in his hand, his thumb tracing over your cheek, "I don't want apologies; I want you to understand that I won't tolerate you seeing other men… now, I want you on your knees” he commands.

Bangchan stands and pulls his pants down without hesitation. His cock is swollen and already throbbing as he stares down at you. "Suck my cock”, he simply says.

After a few moments you fall on your knees, you let your hands move to his bare V line, like you always do, before your lips wraps around his tip, letting your tongue feel his pre-cums.

Bangchan groans and lets his head fall back. He immediately tangles his fingers in your hairs, gripping on them.

"Fuck," he hisses between his teeth as you take him deeper, while his other hand grips your jaw like he's trying to keep you from moving too much, "You're all mine, sweetheart. Every part of you. I'm the only one who gets to experience this feeling”, his voice is a low, hoarse whisper, filled with a mixture of possessiveness.

Your eyes are filled with tears from the effort of taking his dick deep in your throat.

You can tell he's close by the way he fuck your mouth slower and deeper.

He comes after a few thrust, forcing you to swallow every single drop of his salty release.

Bangchan loosens his grip on your hair and jaw, taking a steps back and tucks his dick back in his pants.

You wip your lips with your wrist and stands up looking at him in the eyes,

He leans in, his lips brushing over your ear, his voice a possessive whisper, “Remember sweetheart, you're mine. You belong to me, and I'm going to remind you of that, every chance I get."

Taglist: @felixleftchickennugget @kiwininja35 @sweetpickledjins @slmnheart @elqivxstxr @catffeinexo-xx @multistancheck @justwonder113 @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @hello-stranger24 @raptorbait529 @cocofia143 @minniesverse @eastjonowhere @justwonder113

(Comment to be added to the taglist🎐)

[karaeilishh]

𝜗𝜚 don’t smile b. eilish . . .

a/n — oh i love desperate billie 🙁

smut

you swallow hard before taking a deep breath and opening the door, taking a few steps forward. the faint scent of expensive alcohol fills your lungs before you can even spot a single familiar face in the crowd of strangers laughing and having fun under the dimly lit fluorescent lights. 

you smooth the fabric of your cream-colored dress a few times, checking that none of the bows have come undone while you were on your way here. 

a few curious glances turn to you before you hear whispers. a sickening feeling makes your stomach drop, putting an uncomfortable pressure on your entire body. it takes some effort to move forward through the crowd. although, it would be better if you stayed there. 

your heart clenches painfully when your gaze falls on one of the couches against the wall, where an achingly familiar figure is sitting. long black hair, baggy jeans decorated with incomprehensible patterns. a cap, as always, with the peak backwards. she even dared to wear the shirt you gave her. and now that shirt was being clung to by another girl, sitting in her arms.

you probably would have even been able to walk past her calmly, if a lump of nausea hadn’t risen in your throat when a pair of sky-blue eyes pierced your heart with sharp daggers. your fingertips began to shake.

billie’s face contorted in weak surprise as guilt filled her heart. she shifted slightly, no longer keeping her hands on the blonde and nervously tugging at the hem of her short. as if it would change what you saw a few seconds ago.

“hey, beautiful.” an unfamiliar female voice pulled you out of your painful thoughts, making you turn your head towards a tall, slender brunette holding a glass of expensive champagne in her hand. her fingers fluttered over the bare skin of your shoulder before she leaned in too close.

you couldn't see billie's eyes, but you could definitely feel the capillaries in her eyes about to burst from anger.

"can i buy you a drink?" her voice was soft, drenched in fake tenderness that immediately pushed you away. unlike billie, you weren't going to make her jealous or anything like that.

you gently placed your hands on the stranger's chest, gently pushing her away from you. your eyes followed her face before you apologized and told her that you weren't interested in meeting new people. thankfully, she wasn't pushy.

your head turned towards the large christmas tree decorating the spacious room, so you didn't see how quickly and desperately billie jumped up from the couch, almost running towards you to grab your hand and lead you into the nearest empty room. she gently pushed you against the wall before checking that all the other doors were closed.

"billie.." you take an awkward step forward, trying to calm your wildly beating heart, threatening to fly out of your chest. she looks at you with desperate eyes, taking a few more steps until you are centimeters from your body. lips almost touch, breathtaking.

"please, don't say anything" her nose flutters over your neck, only a few seconds before her lips touch your soft skin. she whimpered from the taste, lowering her hands to your waist, then pulling you to her, feeling you even through the layers of clothes.

"i live by thinking about us" her lips trace your collarbone, leaving a small bite, not causing any discomfort, but making you sigh, feeling how painful it becomes to breathe. “it’s the only thing that can make me smile” your hands fall to her shoulders, sliding higher up her neck, making you desperate to feel her beneath your fingertips as you pull her closer to you. 

“don’t smile because it happened” you whisper softly, desperately, but every inflection of your voice vibrates in her ears, making her mouth go dry. billie straightens up now, looking into your eyes with a forbidden desire that eats her up from the inside. tears threaten to roll down her cheeks. “cry because it’s over”

she purses her lips, leaning forward to press her forehead to yours. hands meet between your bodies, fingers intertwining, clinging desperately to each other. you wanted, craved, starved. it was higher and more complex than normal human feelings.

lips breaking in a passionate, fiery kiss, filling your hearts with love and pain at the same time. memories of how she held this girl, how she let her cling to her, like she really belonged to her. it wasn't true. you both knew it.

"you supposed to think about me every time you hold her" your voice turns cold, putting like a hundred pounds on her heart. she kneels down, not caring at all about the bruises that will remain after.

she doesn't even have to touch your body for your hand to fall down, tugging the cap off her head and tangling your fingers in her long hair. she gives in to the grip, slightly lifting the hem of your dress to cover your thighs with wet kisses, running her tongue over the milky skin.

"your name on my tongue, even when i call her" the confession makes your insides give in to anticipation, throwing your head back against the wall. your breath catches as she slowly, almost physically torturously, pulls your underwear down your legs, holding your hand as you step out of it.

like this is all happening for the first time again. like she's touching your body like this for the first time.

"billie..." a heavy sigh as she gently places your leg on her shoulder, her cheek pressing against your bare thigh, making you shudder in anticipation. your head was spinning, a knot already forming in your stomach, just from the sight of her beautiful face between your legs. she was your girl.

fingers dig deeper into her hair as she slowly runs her tongue along your slit, collecting the wetness that formed just from missing her. she moans at the taste, desperately clutching your waist to bury her face between your thighs.

her tongue works fast, hitting all the sensitive spots and making you moan into your palm. she knew your body better than you did. only she could make your chest feel this way. only she.

"please, look at me.." her voice is muffled by your flesh as you look down, moving your hand to wipe a few tears from her eyes. billie sighs in relief, not taking her mouth away from your sweetness for a second more.

your heel scrapes her clothed back, only igniting a new flame between two needy bodies. billie loved your scratches on her strong back, your little hickeys on the underside of her neck. anything to make everyone know that she belongs to you. her heart, mind, soul, and body. all yours.

her lips wrap around your clit, which is the final point, causing you to arch your back, pressing your pussy even harder against her face. your eyes roll back into the back of your head. your fingers hold her hair tightly. your juices drip down her chin, onto her t-shirt.

“damn..” your body goes limp, but billie rises in time, hugging you tightly. her arms hold you securely upright before she sits you down on the nearest surface, handing you your panties with a playful smile. “can you handle this yourself, princess?”

butterflies flutter in your stomach at the nickname, but you simply giggle and return the item of underwear back to your body. “thank you,” the voice is quiet, intimate. billie kneels, resting her chin on your thigh. her gaze is piercing again, loving. she is so in love with you.

"don't wanna be without you" she whispers, making that sad face that made you melt every time. your fingers reach for her hand, gently wrapping around it. billie helps you up, an arm around your waist, before your body is in her arms.

"your girlfriend will see us"

"you're my girlfriend"

tags — @chrissv4mp, @hkkuugu, @sweet3nerrr, @krosep, @stonerfromlesbos, @loveyoumatthewbernard, @47lake @ohdoyoustillcry, @bilsdillldough, @n0vabug, @bxllxebxtch, @hopingforgoodblogs, @meliciousmel13, @mybluebossanova @sturnsmia, @maafe19 @amara-eilish @tativi @ifwdominicfike @drunkinyourbenz @sturnl0ve