#but its hard to fall in love with it when it keeps interrupting all the stuff i like to sexualize mathilda its DISGUSTING.

[yourauthorjen]

| ALL EYES ON YOU | — joaquin torres

(requests open)

masterlist

| synopsis: | a challenge was all it took for you to make your sharp eyed bodyguard fall for you.

| includes: | model!femreader x bodyguard!joaquintorres, angst, mutual pining, flirting, little bit steamy, mention of assassination, blood, and guns, little bit fast paced

| word count: | 3.5k

| a/n: | this was from this lovely request, thank you for the suggestion! i hope this is what you asked for it was a fun challenge to write but its the best i could get out. i also based this work off of the song "all eyes on you" by nicky youre, feel free to stream it while reading.

PROTECTION WAS THE wrong word to use when you were locked in your penthouse with absolutely nothing but your TV and a small pile of books you had already read five hundred times.

House arrest seemed like a better word to use, and your bodyguard Clint seemed to agree, rustling his suit jacket for the umpteenth time in the last five minutes.

You were sprawled across the velvet couch, feet kicked up as a reality showed played over the screen, too shallow and too fast to even bother paying attention to.

"Y'know, if you keep doing that to your jacket it's gonna ruin the seams."

Clint's mouth tugged upward into an amused smile— but it didn't reach his eyes. He glanced down at his watch, then at the door, like he was expecting it to burst open at any moment.

You rolled your eyes playing with the hem of your shirt. "Relax. I'm not going anywhere." And that was the problem, wasn’t it? You were stuck here — protected from the so-called threats swirling outside, from crazed fans to nameless blackmail to, most recently, a terrifying, too-close brush with a lot of drug addicts, the memory still clung to you like a shadow. It was a flash of silver glinting under the fluorescent lights, the sudden hard grip of a cold hand, cool metal buried into your forehead before you could even scream—

Blood.

Lot's and lot's of blood.

It still stained your hands, the metallic scent trailing after you even after you had washed your hands so many times that they turned raw. The dark red, almost brown, running down your fingers, even if it wasn't yours. The sight still haunted your brain, lingering in the corners when darkness fell and the monsters rushed back daring you to fall into a peaceful sleep, as if to say that the burden and guilt was something you had brought upon yourself.

You hadn't even read a quarter of your script yet, and the misery had already fallen onto you like rain, soaking through your body.

Now, you were under strict orders to stay in. Out of sight, out of danger.

And you despised every second of it.

You had whined, negotiated, bribed, and cried for your PR team to just let you out of the house once. But the only thing they had offered in return was a look of pity and a rough 'I'm sorry, we need to keep you safe."

A sharp knock snapped you out of your daze, and you scrambled upwards as Clint tensed. However, much to your disappointment, it was just another broad shouldered man wearing the same black uniform that Clint did, and an earpiece glinting under the dim lights.

He bent low, murmuring something into Clint’s ear— too low for you to catch, though you strained instinctively. Whatever it was, Clint stiffened immediately, eyes widening and his hand immediately going to his jacket pocket, patting like he was checking for something.

You sat up straighter. "Everything okay?"

Clint's jaw tightened as he glanced at the man beside him then back at you. "My wife's in labour."

You shot up from the couch already shooing him out the door. "Then why are you standing here like a tree trunk? Go! I'll be fine."

Clint grimaced, clearly torn. "I can’t just leave you—"

"Yes, you can," you interrupted sharply. "He can stand guard," you said pointing to the broad shouldered man hovering awkwardly near the door.

"With all due respect ma'am—"

"Oh be quiet, you," you rolled your eyes, "I'll be fine. As your boss I order you to go."

"But—"

"Go." you said firmly dragging out the word. "Before I get Grumpy over there to drag you out the door."

Clint looked helplessly at the man but he just shrugged and mumbled something into his ear. Still torn, he nodded and without another word he rushed out the door and into the hallway as the door slammed shut behind him, the noise echoing around the too big penthouse.

You knew you should've gotten the smaller apartment.

The other guard— Grumpy, as you'd already nicknamed him— cleared his throat meaningfully.

You turned your gaze lazily toward him, one brow arching. "Problem?"

"No, ma'am," he said stiffly, then glanced at his watch. "Your replacement protection should be here shortly."

"Replacement?" you gawked, "I thought you were already my replacement."

Grumpy cleared his throat again, "Ma'am I was just told to notify your bodyguard about his situation."

You let out a long, bored sigh. "Is he as good as Clint?"

He didn’t answer — didn’t even crack a smile — just shifted like he couldn’t wait to be anywhere else. But you supposed it would be fine. You could wait several minutes before your new replacement came, and you'd get a few months the least, to torment him as much as you want.

The next several minutes ticked by with the pace of the snail. Your phone had been abducted by your PR team and you couldn't Uber Eats anything. It was like your entire existence was now condensed to a few square feet of boredom and velvet cushions.

You swung your legs over the side of the couch, fiddling with the hem of your shirt again as Grumpy stood by the door like an awkward, overgrown statue.

Another glance at the clock.

Another glance at the door.

Another loud, martyred sigh from you — purely for his benefit.

He didn’t even twitch.

Rude.

You opened your mouth, wanting to ask if you could borrow his phone. Maybe buy some new books to read, or download Netflix so you wouldn't be bored out of your mind waiting for Grumpy 2.0 to come.

But before you had the chance to ask the elevator outside your apartment dinged, and the door flew open as a man stepped inside.

You had expected him to be a copy and paste version of Clint or maybe Grumpy, but instead you were greeted with a fresh eyed young man with dark curly hair and surprisingly not dressed in the generic uniform everyone else wore.

He was younger than Clint by a lot— probably close to your age, maybe a few years older at most— dressed in a black shirt that fitted just enough to show the lean, strong build underneath, a tactical vest and a pair of dark cargo pants, his legs sturdy and muscular.

He had a duffel bag slung over his arms and his eyes were a beautiful shade of coffee brown. Not the sludgy muddy kind, but the rich hazelnut kind that you found at your local coffee shop just a few blocks away.

You couldn't help the twitch on your lips as they curved into a smirk when his eyes flickered over the room landing on you for a fraction of a second before jerking away with a visible twitch of nerves.

How cute.

"This is Lieutenant Joaquin Torres," Grumpy said, glancing at his watch. "He's been assigned to you until further notice."

"Lieutenant, huh?" you blinked, their eyes both snapped towards you as you stood up from the couch "That's interesting."

The lieutenant— Joaquin, nodded. "Yes ma'am."

You scowled, crossing your arms. "Please don't call me that, it makes me sound like a grandma. How old are you anyways?"

Joaquin hesitated for the briefest moment, his bag still slung over one shoulder, before answering, “Twenty-seven.”

"Not that much older than me," you said, eyes sparkling.

Grumpy cleared his throat before turning to Joaquin. "Your orders are to keep the girl safe, and to not interfere with any harm that comes within her. You are to strictly keep her out of danger and to always keep her in your sight. Sam will be coming in every week to check in on you and if there are any... complications bring it up to him."

"Yes sir."

"Don't worry Lieutenant," you smiled sweetly, "We probably won't have any complications."

Grumpy's eyes lingered on you suspiciously as you waved your fingers at him before he nodded and stalked out the door. As the door closed behind him, you stood up, stretching before marching over to where Joaquin was standing.

"So," you said, dragging the word out lazily, "you're my new babysitter?"

Joaquin stiffened, his jaw ticking just a smidge. "Bodyguard," he corrected, voice earnest. "I'm your— I'm assigned to your protection detail."

You blinked slowly at him, lashes fluttering. "Same thing."

You studied him with open curiosity, head tilting to one side as you took in his appearance.

Up close, he was even more handsome with messy dark hair, lashes too long for someone who was supposed to look intimidating, and a faint scar running along his jawline.

"So," you said, "Do you go by Lieutenant or something? Or should I call you Torres."

"Whatever you like, but Torres is just fine."

You smiled slowly, ""Joaquin, then."

He flushed, much to your surprise. An actual flush, creeping up from under his collar to the tips of his ears.

God, he was precious.

You took another lazy step toward him, deliberately slipping into his personal space, tapping your finger against your thigh. He stood his ground, standing stiffly, but you didn’t miss the tiny shift, the way he tensed as he stood there, stock still.

Interesting.

"You nervous?" you asked lightly, cocking your head.

"No," he said too fast, too sharp.

Liar.

There was a long, heavy pause where you just stared at each other. You could see him fighting the instinct to look away, but he didn’t move. Didn't blink or breathe either.

So, you just spun on your heel, wandering back toward the couch, collapsing into the cushions with a dramatic sigh.

"This is bullshit," you said, talking mostly to yourself. "Do you have a phone? I'm hungry."

Joaquin shifted his weight awkwardly, clearly trying not to fidget under your stare. "I—" he started, rubbing the back of his neck. "I’m not supposed to give you my phone, ma’am."

You pouted, leaning your chin into your hand. "You can call me by my name, y'know. You do know it, right? Or did they just throw you in here blindfolded and wished you good luck?"

His mouth twitched in an almost a smile, but then he snapped it back into a straight line. "I know it," he said evenly. "I'm just trying to be professional."

"Professional," you echoed, letting your legs dangle off the side of the couch. "God, you’re like a walking HR manual. Lighten up, soldier boy."

"I’m not a soldier anymore," he said quietly, gaze flickering somewhere above your head.

"Fine, I'm sorry," you said, twisting the rings around your finger. "Are you allowed to order me pizza? Or can you at least call my manager and tell her to go fuck herself into a hole because this isn't fair."

His lips twitched again, and you grinned, proud of yourself for the little progress you were making.

"I'll let your manager know you're hungry."

"That'd be amazing," you said, "I would kiss you right now but I don't think that'd be very professional in your line of work."

His ears turned faintly pink again, and that's when you decided right there and then, that messing with him was going to be your new favourite pastime.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The next weeks slipped into the same sluggish, mind-numbing routine lounging around your penthouse which, for every passing day, seemed to get smaller and smaller while doing everything in your power to break through the heavy, silent barrier that Joaquin Torres had built around himself.

He was so polite and professional, alway standing when you were in the room, yet always looking anywhere but at you.

It was like a little game the two of you played, though Joaquin didn't seem as interested as you were. Even though you baited him, complimented him, joked with him he just calmly sidestepped and gave you a small smile.

You spent your days lounging on the couch, spewing nothing but nonsense. At first, it was just for fun, something to do and a distraction, but soon it became part of your daily routine.

You talked to him even if he didn't reply all the time. And it wasn't just because he was hot—though it was definitely a bonus— but it was the way he listened. Occasionally he'd nod along to whatever you were talking about, sometime he'd watch you an amused expression his face, other times if you were lucky enough he would offer a couple of words in response.

You hadn’t really dated anyone seriously. Not in this world. Not when every glance turned into speculation, and every touch became some crazy news headline. Your PR team would have a meltdown if they even suspected you were eyeing your own damn bodyguard.

But none of that stopped you from the way your eyes ogled at his chest when you accidentally walked in on him shirtless the other day. You swore on your life it was an accident as you were just turning the corner, fresh laundry in your arms, when you froze.

He had just opened the bathroom door, hair damp and sweatpants hanging low on his hips a towel in his hand as he rubbed it through his hair.

The laundry in your hand slipped out of your arms and fell into a heap onto the floor, as you watched the water drip down his chest into those perfectly carved chiseled abs.

His eyes immediately widened as he took a few steps backwards. “I— I thought you were—”

“Clearly not,” you said, biting your tongue to keep your lips from curling into a smile.

He yanked on his T-shirt, much to your disappointment and muttered a flustered apology before vanishing into his room, slamming his door shut.

You were tempted to knock on his door, but in the end, you decided to leave him alone. He'd probably just turn you away in the end.

It was maybe three or four days after the incident, and you were feeling particularly stir-crazy. The boredom had festered overnight and curdled into mischief. It didn’t help that Joaquin, with all his stupid politeness and that unfairly pretty face, was walking around like the poster boy for self-restraint, and every time you attempted to tease him about what had happened the night before, he just shut you down.

So you were very much in the mood to ruin that.

You strolled into the kitchen, barefoot, humming under your breath. You were dressed for breakfast, a thin, oversized shirt that barely skimmed the tops of your thighs and dipped low in the back. One of your straps was sliding off, and your shorts were riding up your thighs as you stretched.

Joaquin was already there, leaning against the counter as you strode into the kitchen, a spoonful of omelette halfway to his mouth as he looked up and choked.

You blinked at him innocently, lips twitching as he coughed into his elbow, the tips of his ears singing red.

"Uh oh," you said, propping your elbows onto the counter and leaning forward. "Are you okay? You want some water?"

He cleared his throat hard, setting the fork down with a sharp clatter as his eyes darted around the room. “Yeah—yeah, fine,” he said quickly, “Just—uh. Swallowed wrong.”

"Hmm," was all you could say as you grabbed an apple, taking a bite.

You opened your mouth after swallowing, ready to bug him more, but he was already pushing his chair back, face flushed and gaze fixed on a spot somewhere above your head. “I should, um—I’ll be in the other room if you need anything,” he mumbled, and all but bolted out of the kitchen.

Satisfaction pooled into your stomach as you chewed thoughtfully. God this was too easy.

By the time you wandered into the living room again, Joaquin was planted firmly on the couch, rigid as always, gaze fixated on the front door instead of the TV that was playing a rerun of Jeopardy. Clint was still MIA, and probably wouldn't return for another few more weeks, and Joaquin had been extra stiff lipped since this morning.

You flopped down onto the other side of the couch, lifting your head slightly before pushing back the curtain of hair that fell into your face. "So, are you allowed to tackle me if I ran out the apartment screaming?"

Joaquin didn’t even look at you. “Yes.”

"Okay."

Your fingers itched as you scooted over to where Joaquin was sitting. He was still staring dead ahead, but you caught the small twitch of his arm as you propped your legs onto his lap.

"Hypothetically though, if I managed to get out of this building somehow would you drag me back or would you help me escape?"

"I would drag you back."

"Ooh, kinky. You’d probably be gentle about it though. I bet you'd wrap me up real slow, would ya?"

He didn't answer, but his jaw clenched as he shifted beside you.

You rested your chin onto your hand, grinning. “Or maybe not. You are kind of strong, aren't you?” You reached out poking his bicep with your finger.

However, this time he jerked away, your legs slipping off his lap and your eyes widened as he stood up, a wild look in his eyes as he ran a hand through his hair.

You opened your mouth but he already beat you to it.

"You have to stop that," he said, swallowing thickly as he paced around the room. "You can't— you're making my job harder than it should be."

"I—"

"No!" he snapped, stopping in front of you. "I’m not just some guy, okay? I’m your goddamn bodyguard. I’m supposed to keep you safe. Not—” He ran both hands over his face, his voice fading.

Your breath caught in your throat and your eyebrows furrowed. "Do I make you nervous?" you asked softly, cautiously taking a step closer.

“You drive me insane,” he muttered, pacing again. “Every day I walk this line, trying to be professional, trying not to screw up. And then you go and look at me like that, say things like that, and I can’t—” He shook his head. “I can’t think straight. And I can’t do this.”

Your heart ached, and guilt bled through your chest. He looked absolutely wrecked, torn, and confused, and you couldn't help but shrink back.

"Joaquin... I'm— I'm sorry."

He blinked slowly, taking a deep breath as he closed his eyes briefly. "No, it's fine, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have overreacted."

He turned towards you as you stood frozen in place, every breath caught somewhere between your lungs and your lips. His eyes were soft but raw with confliction and yearning. You watched his chest rise and fall, watched the way his jaw tensed like he was holding back a storm behind his teeth.

And then he stepped closer.

One step. Two.

Your heart was hammering, not from fear, but from the way he looked at you like you were both the problem and the answer. His fingers twitched at his sides before he slowly, hesitantly reached up, brushing a knuckle along your jaw.

"I shouldn't..." he whispered, his thumb ghosting over your cheek now.

"Then don't," you whispered back, "I don't... I don't wanna hurt you."

But his mouth crashed onto yours anyways, his hands cupped your face, firm and warm, and his lips were soft and sweet, kissing you frantically as if he was drowning and you were air.

He kissed you like he was learning every shape of your lips, like he wanted to remember this in a thousand ways. Your hands moved on their own, sliding up to curl around the back of his neck, pulling him impossibly closer as his hands dropped to your waist, fingers splaying against your lower back.

He said your name, but you just slipped your hand underneath his shirt, tracing your fingertips over taught muscle and smooth pane of flesh. You gasped softly when his lips trailed from your mouth down to your jaw, your pulse, his breath hot against your skin. And still, he held you tightly, not daring to let go like you were the most precious thing in the world.

"Tell me to stop," he whispered against your neck, his voice low and strained.

You tilted your head back, eyes fluttering shut. "Don’t you dare."

A soft, breathy laugh left him, half-relieved, half-wrecked, and he lifted you, hands firm under your thighs as you wrapped your legs around his waist. He pressed you back into the nearest wall, his lips crashing into yours again, fingers tightening on your hips like he couldn’t bear a single inch between you.

Maybe your manager would murder you later, if you bothered telling her about Joaquin, but she could yell the damn out of you and it still wouldn't change the content sigh that came out of your lips and the stomach clenching feeling of his mouth on yours.

You could feel his eyes on you as he dragged a finger over the waistband of your shorts, and when his fingers dipped lower and lower, you kissed him once more, savouring the moment because it was the best thing that you could ever ask for.

[papervenom]

✩ chapter eighteen: winter break 94' ✩

summary: your fourth year starts with the return of the triwizard tournament— and a relationship with cedric diggory that should feel steady, but doesn’t. when harry’s name gets pulled from the goblet, everything shifts. the trio starts to crack, and being with cedric only adds to the tension. you’re sure about how you feel , you love him. but someone else is pulling for your attention, and it’s getting harder to ignore. a slow-burn, character-driven take on goblet of fire, told through your perspective

chapter warnings: smut (mature sexual content— reader and cedric are deeply in love and very physically intimate, with detailed description), alcohol use and a christmas drinking game, brief mentions of pot.

authors note: surprise! christmas in spring. I know the timing’s a little backwards, but I couldn’t not write this moment. I really wanted to give reader and cedric this soft, almost tranquil little pocket of time together before everything kicks off again. there’s just something about winter and falling in love: the comfort, the way the world quiets down, that just felt so right for them <333 this chapter has been living in my head for awhile now <3 thank u sm for reading

word count: 10.5k

INSATIABLE MASTERLIST⋆˙⟡

December 24, 1994

"Ced, when's the timer going off?"

"Any second now, angel," he says, half-distracted, crouched down in front of the pantry with one hand braced on the door and the other rummaging around for the powdered sugar. Flour is dusted across his jumper, and there's a smear of dough on his jaw that he hasn't noticed yet. I've been meaning to wipe it off but I keep getting distracted.

Behind us, the Burrow is a blur of Christmas chaos. In the next room, Molly hums to herself, floating ribbons around a wobbling stack of presents. Arthur keeps wandering in and out, a tragically tangled garland of red and gold tinsel slung over his shoulder like some glittering, defeated python. His eyes flick nervously between Cedric, me, and the ancient Muggle mixer rattling away on the counter, blinking hard every time it lets out a strained whine or jolts violently when it hits a clump of brown sugar.

He hasn't asked about it yet, about how it works, but I can see it, the way curiosity keeps slipping past the caution in his eyes.

Cedric and I had found the mixer that morning at a secondhand Muggle stall in the village. It was scratched up, missing half its paint, but it was charming in a way I couldn't resist.

Cedric carried it all the way back, smirking at how absurdly proud I looked, kissing my forehead as I gushed about the cookies I was going to spoil everyone with.

The oven dings behind me, pulling me out of the moment. I gasp, twisting around to grab a dish towel and yank the oven door open.

A blast of heat rushes up my arms as I reach in too fast. The tray hisses when I grab it, too hot, and I curse under my breath, dropping it onto the stovetop with a clatter.

"Shit, ow!" I hiss, shaking my fingers out.

"Let me see," Cedric says, already at my side. He takes my wrist in gentle fingers, lifting it closer to his face to inspect. 

The burn isn't awful, just an angry red welt blooming across my knuckle, but he still treats it like it's life or death.

He brings my hand to his mouth, kissing it once, then again. His lips are warm and soft, his tongue flicking out slightly to soothe the sting.

I try not to giggle but fail, my stomach flipping.

"You're ridiculous," I whisper.

"Mm," His lips part, and without breaking eye contact, he sucks the tip of my finger into his mouth. "Tastes like cinnamon."

"Because we're baking, you lunatic."

He grins, wide and boyish, then conjures a cube of ice into his palm and runs it across the burn. The cold shocks my skin, making me shiver.

And that's when the twins barrel into the kitchen.

"Oh, my stars," Fred gasps, clutching his chest. "Are we interrupting?"

"Looks like we walked in on something steamy," George adds obnoxiously, biting his lip and humping the air because of course he does.

"We made cookies!" I blurt out, way too defensively, waving at the tray like it's proof of our innocence.

"Brilliant," Fred says, moving to grab one. 

I smack his hand instantly. "Don't you dare. They're cooling."

"Bloody hell," he grumbles. "You two are insufferable."

"I don't see you helping out," I replied coolly, grabbing the wooden spoon and licking a smear of dough off the side. It's warm, a little too heavy on the nutmeg, but still pretty good considering we eyeballed most of the ingredients.

When I glance up, Cedric's staring.

Not just looking, but focused. Mouth slightly parted, a slow flush creeping up his neck.

I drag the spoon back through the bowl, slow and deliberate, and lick it again.

When I look back, his breath hitches.

I smirk. "Eyes up, Diggory."

He steps in close behind me, one arm sliding around my waist, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. "You're a menace."

"You like it."

"I love it."

"For Merlin's sake," George mutters. "Get a room."

Things had shifted between Cedric and I after the Yule Ball.

Something unlatched inside me that night, something I didn't even realize had been locked up. Suddenly, it felt safe to want. To ache. To take up space— in the way I kissed him back, the way I moved against him, the way I pulled him closer without waiting to ask.

It wasn't just Cedric I felt closer to. It was myself.

I knew what I liked. What he liked. And neither of us was afraid to chase it.

We had a few precious days before the Hogwarts Express brought us back to Devon, and we spent nearly every hour of it locked in his room. Barely clothed. Mouths on each other. Hands everywhere. Making up for months of drawn-out tension with a hunger that felt like it had been simmering since September.

But it was more than sex. More than the heat, the gasps, the high. 

He took his time. He listened.

He memorized me like he was afraid to forget. And I let him.

I wanted him too much to pretend I didn't.

He ruined me in the best way. Over and over again.

Cedric taught me that intimacy wasn't meant to be terrifying. With him, it felt natural— like something my body had always known how to do, just waiting for the right person to remember it with. He was soft when I needed softness, rough when I craved more, and quietly attuned to every place I didn't know how to ask for yet.

I learned how to make him lose his composure; he learned how to hold me there, right on the edge, until I broke apart with his name on my lips. And when he was inside me— deep, slow, like he had all the time in the world, he looked at me like I was holy. 

Like I was everything.

We'd grown a little obsessed with taking care of each other during those few days. 

Especially over lunch hours.

I was pretty sure I was the only thing in the world that could make Cedric Diggory skip a meal, or at least eat half of one just so he wouldn't be too full to fuck me senseless between classes. 

Thursdays were our favorite. We had a two-hour block where we could eat, digest, and then disappear. 

His dorm. A broom closet. A bathroom. An empty classroom.

Against the stone wall of a corridor where the torches burned low and the castle kept our secrets.

Cedric Diggory was a drug.

It's only been two days since we left school, since we said goodbye, but it felt like weeks. 

I was going through withdrawal.

I couldn't stop thinking about him. His touch, his taste, his weight pressing me into something solid. His voice, hoarse and desperate, saying my name like a prayer.  The way his hair felt between my fingers, the way his lips dragged slow and heavy over my throat when he couldn't get close enough. 

He told me, more than once, whilst he was inside me— how my whimpers drove him crazy. How the way my voice caught when he hit the right spot made him lose his goddamn mind. 

How he'd never wanted anyone like this before. Never had anyone like this before.

And I believed him.

The desperation didn't burn out after the Yule Ball. It clung to us. Followed us home. Made us reckless.

We barely made it onto the Hogwarts Express before we were all over each other again. Somewhere between dodging the trolley cart and finding an empty Prefect carriage, Cedric had me pinned against the door, my leg hitched around his waist, our kisses too messy and frantic like we didn't have time to be careful.

It was thrilling— the blurred frost on the windows, the secret touches, the muffled gasps. 

We didn't even make it to the cushioned seats. 

He took me standing, my palms pressed flat against the door, his voice low and sweet in my ear, whispering praises that made me come undone around him.

We dressed in a rush afterward, limbs still trembling and faces flushed. 

We didn't even realize we'd mixed up our ties until we stepped out of the compartment when we arrived at Kings Cross. 

My red Gryffindor one ended up draped around his neck, the knot sloppy and twisted. His bright yellow Hufflepuff tie hung loosely around mine, both of us looking exactly like what we'd just done.

By the time we made it ten steps off the platform, it might as well have been posted on the notice board at school.

My friends were waiting for me. Fred and George were already doubled over in laughter, practically elbowing each other with glee.

"Looks like we've got a confirmed shag!" Fred called, loud enough to turn heads across the platform, his voice cracking with laughter.

I rolled my eyes, cheeks burning, and turned to Cedric.

He didn't flinch, just smirked like he was proud of it. His fingers brushed mine, casual and warm, like he'd do it all over again in a heartbeat.

He glanced over my shoulder, spotting someone in the crowd, probably his parents, then leaned in slightly. "I'll write to you," he said, low and certain.

"Okay," I murmured, then gave him a quick, soft goodbye before turning toward my friends, trying not to look like I'd just been shagged on a moving train.

Harry looked like he wanted to be anywhere else, throwing an apprehensive glance to Ron who, for his part, stood stiffly, like he'd just taken a bludger to the gut.

Ginny's eyes found mine instantly, her smirk slow and smug.

"About bloody time," she muttered under her breath.

Hermione wasn't as subtle. The second I stepped into our circle, she grabbed my wrist and pulled me a few paces away from the others.

"Are you being safe?" she whispered urgently. "I brewed this on the train. Take it as soon as possible."

It was a contraceptive potion, discreet by design, but in that moment it may as well have been glowing. I felt like the entire train had been gossiping, and now I was holding proof. 

Mortifying, sure— but it was going to happen sooner or later.

I nodded quickly, cheeks burning, and tucked it into my pocket like it was a lifeline.

I knew I was being reckless. I knew it but I didn't care.

Because when it came to Cedric, getting swept away was starting to feel like the only way I wanted to go.

But then... I didn't see him for a few days.

My heart was full— really, it was. The Weasleys had this magic about them, something that made a home out of even the most chaotic mess. I was warm and fed and constantly being dragged into games and loud, happy conversations.

But I missed him.

Ached for him.

So when an owl started pecking frantically at Ginny's window one morning, I sprinted across the room to untie the note— recognized his handwriting instantly.

I miss you so much, I could kill the next person I hear from that isn't you.

Cedric asked if I could sneak away for a while. Said he wanted to show me the village nearby— his version of giving me a tour, which was really just an excuse to have me to himself. After a few letters back and forth, and one very excitable conversation with Mrs. Weasley, the plans started falling into place.

She had beamed when I asked, clapping her hands together like I'd just suggested something wonderful. "Oh, you must invite him! And his parents too— for Christmas Eve dinner!" she said, already half-planning the menu out loud.

And just like that, I was scribbling a letter back, fingers shaking, trying not to explode with nerves and excitement.

The idea of baking had started back at the castle— one of those late-night hobbies born out of smoking the stash of pot I'd smuggled in from the States. We'd get the munchies and end up sneaking down to the kitchens, where Cedric would lift me onto a counter and make something to satiate me whilst I giggled at him, stoned out of my mind. 

The house-elves would watch in horror, absolutely mortified that a wizard was doing anything as laborious as kneading dough or whisking batter by hand.

It became our thing, me kicking my feet from the counter, Cedric moving around the kitchen like it was just another Quidditch pitch he had to conquer, grinning at me the whole time.

I was smiling at the memory when I felt him crowd in closer, his body slotting between my legs, cornering me against the kitchen counter with his hands braced on either side of me.

"When am I going to see you next?" he murmured, dragging me out of my thoughts.

I blinked up at him, the weight of him, the warmth of him, making my chest feel stupidly full. "Mrs. Weasley asked me to invite you and your parents for Christmas Eve dinner tonight," I said, voice hopeful.

"Oh yeah?" he said casually, brushing my hair back behind my ears. "I'll let them know."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Why does that sound not likely?"

He hesitated, his mouth pulling into a grimace. "It's just... my dad's having some friends over from the Ministry. He wanted me there to talk about the Tournament... but I'll try to get away."

My face must have fallen because he immediately leaned in to kiss me, quick and sweet and soft.

"I miss you," I mumbled against his mouth, pouting as he smoothed his hands up my sides. "I feel like we haven't spent any real time together."

"I know." He kissed me again, lingering this time. "It's just hard, with family. But we'll find time. Why don't you come over to mine for dinner? My parents have been asking about you."

I hesitated, nibbling my bottom lip. "I feel bad leaving Mrs. Weasley after she's been making such a fuss getting everything ready... but I'll see what I can do. Maybe I can sneak out after dinner. Although that might be too late, Ced, seriously, listen to me—"

I broke off into giggles as he started kissing down my neck, ignoring every word, his lips brushing over the spot that made my knees want to buckle.

"You're the worst," I giggled, trying to squirm away half-heartedly.

From the next room, I could hear Fred and George whispering to each other in fast, hushed voices— the kind of mischief-heavy tone that meant they were back to testing their joke treats. The idea made me smile. Of course they couldn't leave things alone, not even for Christmas.

I was half-listening to Cedric's response when I heard one of them break away, footsteps padding toward the kitchen.

George strolled in, clearly mid-snack mission, and made a beeline for the now-cooled tray of cookies. But the second he spotted us, me by the counter, Cedric pressed in close, lips trailing lazily along my neck— he froze, then barked out a laugh.

"Damn," he said, shaking his head. "That little bird's got you by the balls, mate."

Cedric didn't miss a beat. He just grinned, still nosing against my neck, and said, "Wouldn't have it any other way."

Cedric broke off just in time when Fred wandered back in, whispering something fast under his breath to George. They were definitely back to scheming— voices low and sharp, the telltale sound of joke-treat plotting. I barely had a second to clock it before Mrs. Weasley and Arthur followed close behind, Mrs. Weasley brandishing a small hand towel like a weapon.

"Oi! Hands off those cookies, you'll spoil your dinner!" she chirped, swatting Fred and George both in the stomach as they cackled and darted away.

Cedric excused himself, laughing, brushing flour and streaks of dough off his jumper. "Mind if I use the restroom to clean up?" he asked.

"Right through there, dear," Molly said, beaming and pointing down the hallway.

As soon as he was out of sight, Mrs. Weasley turned toward me, wiping her hands on the towel. Her whole face lit up.

"Oh, darling," she cooed, practically vibrating with excitement. "He's beautiful! You two make such a gorgeous couple. Are the Diggorys coming over for dinner?"

I smiled awkwardly. "I asked... but he claims he's busy. I don't think he wants to impose."

"That's nonsense!" she declared, tossing the towel onto the counter with a flourish. "I've seen that boy grow up, he used to run around here with Fred and George, as perfect a little gentleman as you could find. It would make me so happy to have them. The more, the merrier!"

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," I said, warmed by how genuinely she meant it. "I'll try again."

Cedric reappeared a moment later, hands freshly washed, his hair a little damp where he'd splashed water on his face. Molly beamed at him, reaching up to pat his cheek fondly.

"Such a handsome boy," she said warmly.

Cedric gave her one of those soft, easy smiles that made my brain static. I grabbed his hand, tugging him gently toward the living room just as more of the Weasley brothers descended into the kitchen, lured by the smell of cooling cookies.

He dropped onto the couch and pulled me down with him without hesitation, his arms curling easily around my waist.

Across the room, Charlie and Bill were now getting scolded by Molly for trying to sneak cookies too. I laughed under my breath, settling back against Cedric's chest.

"Molly's asked me to get you to come by tonight again," I said, nudging him playfully.

"(Y/N), I want to," he murmured, brushing his nose against my temple.

"Then come," I insisted.

"You know I can't do that," he said, voice low, regretful.

"Then I won't see you until we're back at the castle," I said, pouting.

He frowned. "Thought you said you'd sneak out?"

"Yeah? After dinner, when everyone's asleep? What will we even do then?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at him, smirking.

Cedric's mouth twitched. He leaned in, pressing a kiss just below my ear. "I can think of a few things," he whispered.

I giggled, swatting at him just as heavy footsteps thundered down the stairs.

Ron burst into the room, face flushed, but the second he saw us— legs tangled, Cedric's arm resting lazily along the back of the couch, his whole expression soured.

Cedric straightened up fast, clearing his throat and sliding a few inches away from me, though his hand stayed linked with mine.

Ron stomped over to the cookie tray, snatching one without a word, too busy glaring at us to notice how good it was— which said a lot, considering how much Ron Weasley loved food. 

The hatred practically radiated off him.

Cedric followed Ron's retreat with his eyes and sighed.

"I should go," Cedric said under his breath.

"Why?" I asked, concerned.

His grey eyes flicked back to mine, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I mean, he doesn't really like me, does he? Never did."

I exhaled, dragging my fingers through my hair. "He thinks he has a crush on me and he's being dramatic about it."

Cedric's smile widened. "He has a massive crush on you."

I rolled my eyes. "No, he doesn't. I mean... he does. But it's the veela effect."

Cedric groaned loudly, throwing his head back against the couch in mock agony.

"What?" I said, laughing because he looked so devastatingly beautiful sprawled out like that— his chiseled jawline, his chest rumbling with laughter. I wished we were alone so I could throw him down on this couch and climb on top of him.

"You need to stop excusing everyone's infatuation toward you as the veela effect, (Y/N)," he said, punctuating each word with a kiss, one to my cheek, one to my jaw, one just below my ear.

"You are fucking gorgeous," kiss, "and perfect," kiss, "in every single way—"

"I don't excuse everyone," I protested, breathless and grinning.

"You thought I was under your spell," Cedric teased, his eyes twinkling.

"Well, yeah... but Ron really is," I insisted. "He gets all hazy when he looks at me, same way he does with Fleur. I mean, did you hear how he asked her to the Yule Ball? He was mortified. He had no control over himself."

Cedric shook his head, still smiling. "He might get like that around Fleur. But when you're both in the room, he still looks at you. And it's not the same hypnotized, veela-dazed look everyone else has. It's different. He's in love with you."

"Ced..." I said, soft, unsure.

He squeezed my hand. "It doesn't bother me. If anything, it just makes me grateful. Grateful that I get to have you in my arms. But... I can tell the difference between someone enchanted by you and someone who's just plain lovesick."

Before I could respond, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny were the last to wander into the kitchen.

"Cookies?" Harry asked hopefully, peering around.

"Oh, hi, Cedric!" Hermione greeted brightly.

"Hello," Cedric said warmly, standing up and smoothing his jumper. "Help yourselves, we made plenty."

He shook Harry's hand, exchanged a few polite words, and then turned to me. I quickly wrapped a few cookies in a napkin for him, pressing them into his hands.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to my lips, fast but full of feeling, and then nodded toward Ron, who still hadn't looked at us once.

"Tell your mum I said thanks for letting me visit, Ron," Cedric said, his voice polite.

Ron grunted something under his breath, too busy staring at the floor.

I shot him a glare as Cedric headed for the door, heart already aching.

"These are so good," Hermione said around a mouthful of cookie.

"Muggle made," I said proudly, heading back into the kitchen to find a towel, Ginny and Hermione trailing after me. "Cedric and I went down to the village to buy a mixer and some supplies."

Ginny giggled at the way I beamed, and I couldn't help it — I did a little happy dance right there on the kitchen tiles, my giddiness so contagious it made Hermione and Ginny squeal with laughter too.

By the time the last cookie was snatched, the Weasleys had dispersed again — some off to clean up for dinner, others back to wrapping presents or sneaking in naps before the evening chaos really kicked off. The kitchen looked spotless, like Cedric and I had never even been there. Counters wiped, floors swept, dishes stacked neatly to dry.

I slumped into one of the chairs, elbows propped on the table, launching straight into a hushed, giddy retelling of everything to Ginny and Hermione.

It had become our thing, almost without trying — sneaking off to gossip in corners, slipping into conversations the boys had absolutely no patience for. Which honestly suited me fine. The girls gave me exactly the reaction I wanted: wide eyes, gasps, hand-over-mouth giggles. They ooh'd and ahh'd like they were watching a soap opera unfold live.

"Shit, I need to call my mum and wish her Merry Christmas," I said suddenly, grabbing the nearest towel to wipe my hands. "It's easier here, actually. Dumbledore lets me make weekly calls during the year, but he always sits in the room and it's... weird. Hard to update her when I have to censor everything."

Ginny wrinkled her nose. "That's awful."

"Yeah," I said, nodding — then grinned sheepishly. "I told her about Cedric."

"Ooh," Hermione leaned forward, eyes wide. "What'd you say?"

"Just... 'remember that boy I told you I liked?'" I shrugged. "And she immediately went full mom-mode. Asked if we were being safe. I said yes and hung up immediately," I told them, mortified,  and we all burst into laughter.

Still giggling, we made our way back toward the living room where Ron and Harry were now parked, both looking at us with varying degrees of caution, like they weren't sure if it was safe to be around us yet.

I was nice enough to wait until the giggling died down before regrouping.

"Did I hear something about your mum?" Harry asked, looking relieved for a topic he could safely latch onto. "How's she doing?"

"She's fine," I said, dropping down onto the couch. Hermione plopped down beside me, and I immediately flopped my head into her lap, kicking my feet up across Harry's. "I talked to her yesterday. She already misses us. Asked if we'll be coming home for the summer."

"Wicked," Harry said, brightening.

I grinned. "What do you say, Hermione? Summer in the States? It's not as pretty as Europe, but it could be fun."

"Oh... I assume my parents already have next summer's trip all planned out," Hermione said, stroking absent-mindedly through my hair. "But I'll ask!"

Across the room, Ron still pretended I didn't exist. He sat stiffly in an armchair, arms stretched across the back, glaring at the fireplace like it had personally offended him.

Hermione gave me a pointed look,  that wide-eyed, do something expression that felt way too familiar.

I sighed. Preparing myself to be the bigger person, again.

"You, Ron?" I said lightly, still stretched across my friends like a cat. "You still up for our plan of amusement parks and greasy American fast food?"

Ron didn't miss a beat. "Sure, as long as your bellend boyfriend doesn't come."

"RONALD!" Hermione exploded.

I just laughed, half-expecting that exact answer.

"I don't like him," Ron snapped. "He's so full of himself. Walks around like he's already Merlin's almighty Triwizard Champion when Harry has a better chance than he does."

"Oh, don't try to twist this into being about the tournament," I said, sitting up now. "Cedric is not full of himself, and Harry doesn't give a shit about him in terms of competition. You're mad because he's with me."

"Whatever," Ron muttered. "I still don't like him. And I don't appreciate you bringing him into my home."

I blinked. Then blinked again.

"Neither your mom, your dad, your brothers, or  Ginny have a problem with it. So why should you?" I said, voice rising. "He's my fucking boyfriend, Ron. Maybe if you stopped being so miserable all the time, you'd actually enjoy being around him. And I'd enjoy being around you again. Jesus fuck."

Silence.

Hermione's mouth dropped open. Ginny looked up sharply. Harry froze.

"Wait," Ron said, voice like a shot. "He's your boyfriend?"

I stammered. "I mean... I think he is. I mean, we—"

The silence dragged.

I was fuming. 

So was Ron. 

The tension was so thick it felt like one wrong word could snap it in half.

"Okaaay," Harry said quickly, clapping his hands. "Let's... let's do something. Before we murder each other."

The tension didn't vanish, it just cracked enough for us to breathe again.

There were only so many things to do around the Burrow, and most of them involved lounging around, playing half-hearted games, and trying not to trip over enchanted Christmas decorations.

So we spent the few hours before dinner doing exactly that.

There was a mountain of homework looming over us, but none of us even thought about touching it. That was out of the question.

Except Hermione, of course— already buried in a book the size of a paving stone, while the rest of us sprawled across the living room in various states of post-cookie laziness.

Ginny and I had my Discman between us, one earbud each, quietly sharing music and mouthing the lyrics. 

Harry and Ron were hunched over the chessboard, locked in another ruthless round.

"You really ought to have a look at that egg, you know," Hermione said suddenly, breaking the peaceful silence. "Start working out what it means..."

"Hermione, he's got ages," Ron snapped.

Hermione gave Harry a look. He sighed.

"Come on, how am I supposed to concentrate right now?" he muttered. "Can't it wait 'til after the holiday?"

"I suppose it can," she said with a dramatic sigh, setting her book down with an exaggerated thump.

Ron's chess pieces were as violent as ever. The match proceeding with a reckless pawn sacrifice and an unnecessarily brutal bishop decapitation. Harry picked up a piece, turning it over in his fingers.

"Sirius is supposed to write me back tonight," he said casually. "I asked him more about Karkaroff."

"Oh! I forgot to tell you," I said, sitting up straighter. "At the Yule Ball, Karkaroff was being really weird. I overheard him talking to Malfoy— told him to say hello to his parents, and Malfoy just got... really tense. Afterwards Karkaroff started asking me strange questions, too. About my dad."

I wrinkled my nose in distaste.

Harry's eyes narrowed. "I overheard him arguing with Snape in the dungeons after the Ball."

Ron, finally sounding like himself again, added, "Snape looked ready to hex him into next week."

Hermione frowned. "That's not surprising... But definitely something to keep an eye on."

We all agreed. 

The signs were there. 

Sirius might be right about him.

The evening quickly arrived, and before we knew it we were seated around the long kitchen table, digging into Christmas dinner. Prime rib, parsnip and carrot purée, praline chestnuts, sprouts, pigs in blankets, golden roast potatoes, Christmas pudding, and Harry's favorite— treacle tart.

We ate until we couldn't move. 

Mrs. Weasley had truly outdone herself.

And then, once the plates were cleared and the sky outside turned inky blue, Fred and George returned with shot glasses and dangerous smiles.

Fred dropped the first bottle on the table with a loud thunk. 

"Alright, you lot. Christmas Eve drinking game."

"You're joking," Hermione said, already backing away.

"Not even a little," George grinned.

Before Fred could explain the rules, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley stood up from the table, stretching and rubbing their eyes, clearly ready to call it a night after a long day of gift-wrapping, wand-waving, and pulling together Christmas dinner.

"Not too much now," Mrs. Weasley warned, gathering a few stray plates. "And absolutely no encouraging Ginny to overdo it," she added, shooting a look at Fred and George like she already knew exactly who the culprits would be.

"We'd never dream of it, Mum," Fred snickered, Ginny whinging under her breath because her parents were babying her. 

"Model citizens, the both of us." George added. 

Arthur chuckled under his breath, patting Mrs. Weasley's shoulder. "Let them have their fun. Just don't burn the house down."

With that, they disappeared upstairs, footsteps creaking on the old staircase.

Percy left not long after, haughtily sweeping from the room as if a drinking game was far beneath him, muttering something about "more important things to tend to."

His departure was met with immediate relief.

Which left Bill, Charlie, Ron, the twins, Hermione, Ginny, Harry, and me gathered around the kitchen table, all exchanging looks— half excited, half bracing for impact, as Fred and George began preparing whatever chaos they had in mind.

Fred spun the bottle lazily between his fingers, grinning like he'd just invented mischief.

"Alright," he said. "Who's ready to regret their life choices?"

George snatched the bottle from him and raised it like a toast. 

"Simple rules," he announced. "Spin, point, drink, dare. Refuse the dare—two shots. Do it— just the one. Winner gets bragging rights. Loser gets their eyebrows singed off."

"That's not a real rule," Hermione said flatly.

"It is now," George replied with a wicked grin.

Bill leaned back in his chair, sipping his butterbeer. "God help us."

The bottle spun and clattered across the tabletop, landing on Ron.

"Dare," he said immediately, trying hard to sound cool and not at all nervous.

George's eyes lit up. "Sing Celestina Warbeck's 'A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love.' Serenade style."

Ron looked like he'd rather eat a Blast-Ended Skrewt, but he stood up anyway, wobbling slightly, and belted the first verse so dramatically that Ginny broke into a fit of laughter and nearly fell off her chair.

The second spin landed on Hermione, who was clearly praying for divine intervention. 

Her dare? Chug half a glass of eggnog without gagging. She failed spectacularly, sputtering halfway through, and Fred cackled as he handed her two shots.

Charlie, amused and surprisingly competitive, picked dare and had to switch clothes with George for the next round. 

Watching a grown dragon handler squeeze into a twin's jumper was enough to make half the room cry laughing.

Harry got dared to kiss Ginny on the cheek, which turned him so red he looked like he'd caught fire, and then he took a second shot anyway to save himself from further humiliation.

When the bottle finally spun to me, I didn't hesitate. "Give me your worst."

Fred and George exchanged a long, exaggerated glance before Fred leaned in with a grin.

"Alright, darling. Give us your worst pickup line. And you have to sell it."

The room stirred with anticipation.

"Oh, you want bad?" I said, rising to my feet like I was taking center stage. I rolled my shoulders, tossed my hair, and leaned in with mock intensity.

"Are you a Dementor?" I purred, voice flat and low. "Because every time you come near... I lose my will to live."

George let out a strangled cough. Bill cracked up, laughing into his drink.

I held up a finger. "Wait for it."

I took a slow breath, locked eyes with Fred, and added casually, "Also, I'm not wearing any knickers."

That did it.

Charlie burst out in laughter. Hermione slapped both hands over her mouth. Ron made a noise like he'd swallowed a Quaffle sideways.

Fred just blinked at me. Once. Then again. Hands raised, he leaned back like he'd been hit.

"I said worst pickup line, (Y/N)," he said, almost stunned. "Not most effective. Bloody hell."

And okay, yeah, it was the alcohol that made me so bold. But even through the laughter, I caught the look Ron and the twins were giving me— half impressed, half scandalized, and just barely this side of turned on.

Not the result I'd planned for.

But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't proud of it.

When the time came that the bottle got back to Hermione, she was flushed and giggling, not even pretending to argue as she tipped back another shot.

The room grew louder. The dares got sloppier. Ron ended up wearing Bill's old boots. Harry had to serenade a mince pie. Fred attempted to duel the Christmas tree and lost spectacularly. George drank straight from the bottle when nobody could agree on a dare good enough to top the last.

Everyone was getting drunker by the minute— flushed cheeks, glassy eyes, voices rising with every passing hour.

I wasn't immune to it,  there was a warm buzz under my skin, but I stayed careful. 

Sipping water between rounds. 

I wanted to remember tonight. 

Wanted to stay clear-headed enough to enjoy it without losing myself.

One by one, people started peeling off. 

Charlie left first, muttering something about needing to be up early. Bill followed not long after, clapping Fred and George on the backs and calling them "bad influences." 

Ron and Harry fell asleep half-upright on the couch, snoring lightly.

Soon it was just Ginny, Hermione, the twins, and me still awake— and even Ginny was slumping sideways in her chair, eyelids drooping.

I was just thinking about helping clean up when there was a sudden, frantic tap against the kitchen window.

An owl.

I blinked, sobering a little as I crossed the kitchen. Everyone else was still too drunk to notice.

The poor thing looked slightly windblown, its feathers puffed and ruffled, eyes wide like it was carrying urgent news. I cracked the window open, careful not to let in too much cold, and untied the small parchment tied to its leg.

The handwriting was unmistakable — slanted, neat, a little rushed.

I miss you terrible. Can you sneak out?Please? I want to see you.

— C

My stomach flipped.

He missed me. He wanted me. And the moment I imagined his voice behind those words— low, teasing, warm— I was already looking for my coat.

"Be right back," I murmured to no one in particular, tucking the note into my pocket.

Ginny was curled into an armchair, mumbling about something incoherent as she kicked off her shoes and pulled her sleeves over her hands. Fred and George were still buzzing with drunken laughter. 

No one paid me any mind as I slipped into the hallway and grabbed my shoes.

I moved quietly, slipping past creaky floorboards as if I'd done it a hundred times. 

Coat, scarf, wand. Door eased open. Cold air hit my cheeks like a secret.

And just like that, I was gone—  stepping into the night, already flushed, already buzzing with the thought of him.

Of Cedric.

Of where this was going.

And what I'd let him do to me when I got there.

By the time I reached the edge of the Diggory's property, I was about to head up to the front door when I heard him.

"Over here," Cedric whispered loudly from his window, barely visible through the frosty glass. I turned and found him leaning out, grinning like a boy sneaking sweets before dinner.

He disappeared for a second, then the window creaked open wider, and I saw him reach out a hand.

"Come on, before someone sees you."

His grip was steady, warm despite the cold. He pulled me up with practiced ease, helping me over the sill and into the room with a muffled laugh. My boots thudded softly against the wooden floor as I landed inside, snowflakes melting off my coat.

He looked gorgeous, clearly dressed for Christmas dinner in smart trousers and an adorable cashmere sweater that made him look equal parts cozy and kissable.

"Sorry," he said, brushing a hand through his hair. "There are a few of my dad's coworkers here tonight. All Ministry. Very boring. Thought I'd spare you."

The room was warm and dimly lit, smelling faintly of cedar and something sweet and spiced,  maybe mulled wine. A record was already turning in the corner, the soft scratch of vinyl filling the quiet space between us with soft music.

"It's okay," I giggled, starting to peel off my layers— coat, scarf, gloves, my fingers clumsy from the cold.

Then I felt him.

His body pressed close behind mine. His breath warm against my neck. One arm snaking around my waist, the other holding something above our heads.

Mistletoe.

He grinned, cocky and gorgeous and utterly unbothered, like he'd been waiting all night for this exact moment.

And I giggled before I could help it because of course he had mistletoe.

I didn't expect any less from this beautiful, maddening, perfect boy.

"House rules," Cedric said, voice low and pleased, lips already brushing my cheek.

I turned into the kiss without thinking, our mouths finding each other easily, like it was a ritual. Like we'd done it in every life before this one.

My back hit the wall with a dull thud as he moved into me fully, the mistletoe falling to the floor, forgotten. He smiled into the kiss, all warm breath and flushed skin.

"Missed you," he murmured against my lips, his hands cupping my face, thumbs grazing over my cheeks. "So much."

"Show me," I whispered.

His fingers slid under my jumper, warm palms tracing up my sides until he found bare skin. He sighed into the kiss when he felt it, like he'd needed to touch me just to breathe again. I reached for the hem of his sweater, yanking it off with one pull and he stood there in the low light, shirtless and golden and glowing. 

I don't think I'll ever get over how beautiful he looks. Not when he's like this. Not when he's mine.

He dipped his head, lips dragging over my throat. Open-mouthed kisses trailed along my collarbone, wet and slow. I could feel him, hard through his trousers, thick and hot against my thigh, and I gasped when I rocked into him.

"Fuck," he breathed. "You're already soaked, aren't you?"

I nodded, incapable of forming words. His hand moved between us, sliding into my waistband, fingers seeking and finding the heat between my thighs.

"Mmm," Cedric hummed, his forefinger and thumb tilting my chin toward him. His nose brushed mine, breath catching. "You're throbbing for me, baby. So fucking wet."

When he pressed his finger against my clit, circling slow and devastating, I let out a breathless sound, more whimper than word. His other fingers teased at my entrance, just the barest hint of fullness. It was enough to make my legs tremble, not nearly enough to satisfy.

The only fullness I wanted was Cedric's cock. That thick, heavy weight pressed against my hip. No finger could match the stretch of him, the ache I was begging to feel.

"I need you," I whispered, and he moved me toward the bed, step by step, kissing my jaw, the corner of my mouth, the shell of my ear. Every touch burned.

When I peeled off the rest of my clothes, he dropped to his knees. Hands curling around the backs of my thighs, he tugged me forward until I was perched right at the edge of the bed, bare and trembling. He looked up at me like I was the feast and he was starving.

Outside, there was laughter— faint and distant. I was grateful Cedric's parents and their guests were distracted. No one would hear the filthy noises I was about to make.

Then his mouth was on me. He licked a slow stripe through my folds, the tip of his tongue flicking over my clit with maddening precision. My back arched. A moan tore from my throat. He groaned into me, like he'd been craving this.

"Taste better than I remembered," he murmured, mouth wet against my thigh.

He didn't stop until my thighs were trembling, my hands fisted in the sheets, hips bucking for more. Then he stood, undid his trousers, and shoved them down with one hand, his cock springing free— thick, flushed, and already glistening at the tip.

He crawled over me, dragging the head of his cock through my folds, teasing me until I whined, begging without shame.

Then he pushed in.

One long, slow thrust that filled me completely, made my spine curve and my lips part in a moan.

"Merlin," he choked, arms braced on either side of me. "You feel so good."

I couldn't speak. Just wrapped my arms around his shoulders and clung to him, my legs locking around his waist.

He started to move— slow, deep thrusts that hit every nerve ending. His hips rolled in a rhythm that felt like worship. And ruin. My fingers dug into his back. I could hear myself mumbling, gasping, nonsense.

 Cedric just chuckled, kissing my cheek.

"You're so gorgeous when you fall apart for me," he said, dragging his lips down my jaw. "I love you, princess."

"I—" I tried to say it back, but his next thrust knocked the air from my lungs. I dragged my nails down his back, moaning. He hissed in pleasure, bucking into me harder.

Each thrust was measured, perfect. He was making love to me, but with a purpose, building up his release slowly, like he wanted to feel every second. Our eyes stayed locked, our breathing synchronized. I hooked my fingers around the back of his neck, his nose brushing mine, his moans getting rougher, raspier, more desperate.

"You're so perfect," he gasped. "So fucking perfect, Gods."

I kissed him, hungry, messy. He groaned into my mouth, and I could feel him start to throb inside me.

I was right there with him. My body wound tight, hips rolling to meet every thrust, every press of his pelvis against my clit. I was burning up, every inch of me trembling.

"Ced, I'm—I'm gonna—fuck—!"

"Go on," he growled into my ear, hand clutching my hip as he quickened the pace, voice breaking. "Come for me, sweetheart."

My orgasm tore through me like lightning, my body arching into his as I cried out his name. He kept thrusting, fucking me through it, relentless even as I clenched around him.

"Ah, fuck—" Cedric groaned, hips stuttering. "You gonna let me fill you up baby? Pump you full of my cum?"

"Yes, yes— please," I whimpered.

That did it.

He moaned my name, hips slamming into me one final time as he came hard, hot pulses spilling inside me. His body collapsed over mine, still twitching from the aftershocks, lips pressed to my cheek.

He stayed inside me for a long moment, breathing hard, our bodies still tangled, still slick with sweat. His forehead rested against mine, noses brushing, eyes locked. He kissed me— soft now, unhurried.

When he finally pulled out, slow and careful, I whimpered, more from the absence than anything else. He kissed down my bare stomach, slow, warm presses of his lips as he worked his way lower, humming softly between each kiss. I squealed when he kissed the curve of my bare ass, and he only grinned, crawling back up to hover over me again.

"Can we stay like this forever?" he whispered, brushing his mouth across mine.

I laughed, breathless. My fingers tangled in his damp hair as I pulled him in for another kiss. "I'd love nothing more."

So we stayed like that for a while— our bodies pressed together under the weight of the moment. Everything was soft now. Mellow. It was one of my favorite things about us, how naturally we shifted from heat to hush. No awkwardness. No tension. Just a shared, breathless calm.

I loved how comfortable we'd grown with each other. How easily we fell into conversation after sex, limbs tangled, hands tracing patterns along bare skin, hearts still beating like war drums in our chests.

We were lying on our backs, staring up at the ceiling, fingers laced between us, when I broke the silence, "During the summer, Harry and I caught this weird documentary on Muggle TV. It was about this filmmaker who tried to build an opera house in the middle of the Amazon for a movie called 'Fitzcarraldo'. Total chaos. Everything that could go wrong did— bad weather, budget disasters, cast changes. The original lead actor actually got sick, and they had to recast and reshoot most of it. But the director, Werner Herzog, kept going. He literally dragged a full steamship over a mountain. And somehow, he made the film anyway."

Cedric turned his head toward me, interested, silent.

"And there's this band I love, Cigarettes After Sex, they wrote a song inspired by the film. You can hear the opera piece from the movie in the intro. I was so excited when I made the connection. I put the song in your—" I stopped, my mouth clamping shut mid-sentence. My heart lurched.

"In my what?" he asked, already smiling like he knew.

My cheeks burned. "Never mind."

"No, you cheeky girl. Come on, tell me. You can't just start something and leave me hanging," he said, tugging gently at my joined hand.

I sighed, face hot. "Fine, before I forget..."

I slipped out from under the covers, reaching across the floor for my bag— the one I dropped while climbing in through his window. 

 I dug until I felt the plastic case— the one I'd tucked away before sneaking out of the Burrow. I handed it to him wordlessly, hoping he wouldn't notice the blush creeping up my face.

It was labeled in sharpie, 'Cedric's CD'. 

Inside was a folded sheet of parchment, handwritten with all the songs I'd picked, a little note beside each one explaining why it made me think of him.

He sat up, instantly alert. "You made me a mixtape?"

"I burned it back home. I know it's dumb. And small. I just— I didn't have anything else to give you."

"You give me everything just by breathing," he said, like it was the easiest truth in the world.

I wanted to roll my eyes but it landed too hard in my chest, like my heart didn't know how to take a compliment that honest.

He opened the case slowly, like it was something sacred. His eyes scanned the tracklist, lighting up as he read the names.

"I can't wait to put this on," he murmured.

He stood up— completely naked, unbothered— and it just made me smile. There was something easy about us now. I watched him cross the room, soft light catching on his skin, and all I felt was warmth. Not nerves. Not insecurity. Just comfort. Just him. And that familiar, swelling feeling in my chest that made it impossible not to smile.

He held the CD in his hand like it was something personal— like he was holding a piece of me and it mattered more than I realized.

At the record player in the corner, he stopped the vinyl, then flipped open the CD tray beneath it. A low hum filled the room. The first track came to life: Opera House by Cigarettes After Sex, the haunting intro echoing in the quiet like a memory neither of us had lived yet.

My chest ached at the sound.

He came back to bed, that perfect face lit in warm lamplight, and slipped under the covers, pulling me into him again like it was instinct. Like he couldn't stop touching me even if he tried.

His arms were heavy around my waist. The song played. I pressed my cheek to his chest and let my fingers trace the shape of his ribs through soft skin.

"I love you so much, Cedric," I whispered, the words barely audible over the music. But I knew he heard them. Felt them. "I've been so happy since we've been together. Happier than I thought I could be."

It came out softer than I meant. A little breathless. A little too raw.

I said it like a test.

Because part of me still needed to hear it back.

Not just for the sake of it. But because earlier, when Ron had said what he said, when the doubt had slithered in, I started questioning things I didn't want to. 

So I waited.

And when he didn't answer right away, when the silence stretched longer than it should've, my stomach dropped.

It was only a second.

But it was enough.

I pulled back, stiff, like I'd been stung. "What?"

Cedric's face changed instantly— his whole body jolting upright like I'd shocked him back into the moment. "No, wait— no, no, no."

"Then why did you hesitate?" My voice wavering. I was already sitting up, wrapping the sheet around me like armor. "Do you not want to be with me? Are you still—" I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Are you not over Cho?"

He stared at me, stunned. "What? No. Gods, no. Baby..." He moved fast, reaching for my hands, tugging me back toward him. "How could you even think that? You're all I think about. You've been it for me since day one."

"But you hesitated."

"Because I'm scared." His voice broke on the last word. "Not of you. Of me. Of this. Of getting it wrong. I don't want to mess this up. I want you to be mine, more than anything— but I'm in the middle of this goddamn tournament, and I'm drowning in it. I can't be the boyfriend you deserve right now. I'm exhausted. I'm scattered. I'm scared I'll end up hurting you."

I looked at him, heart thundering, unsure if I wanted to scream or cry.

"You won't," I said quietly. "You already mean more to me than anyone ever has."

He exhaled, shakily. "After the tournament. When I can give you all of me... can I ask you again then? Properly? Can I make you mine?"

I didn't answer right away. The song shifted to the next track, slow and low and hazy.

Eventually, I gave a small nod. "Okay."

He let out the smallest breath of relief. Like he'd been holding it for days.

"I'm so in love with you," he murmured, reaching up to cup my cheek again.

"I love you, too," I whispered. "Even when you're a div."

That made him smile. He kissed me, and I melted into it— gentle and slow and aching.

"I'm not seeing anyone else," he said again, like it was important that I heard it. "I don't want anyone else. It's just you. It's always been you."

I blinked hard. My throat burned.

Then, from the drawer beside his bed, he pulled out a tiny velvet box. Held it for a beat, like he was waiting to see if I'd let him.

"I was going to wait until morning," he said. "But I want you to have this now."

He handed it to me. Inside sat a delicate gold necklace, thin as thread, with a single charm: the letter C.

"Cedric..." I cooed. "It's beautiful. You didn't have to—"

"It's not a big deal."

"It is," I said, staring at it. "Especially when all I got you was a burned CD."

"Your CD is everything," he said. "It's your music. Your taste. Your heart. You made it with your hands. That's what matters."

I went quiet for a second, the weight of it settling in my chest. Not guilt, exactly. Just this stupid ache, the way I always felt when someone saw more value in me than I knew what to do with.

He reached out, thumb brushing the corner of my mouth.

"You whingy little thing," he said, teasing, warm. He pulled me into him until I was curled against his chest. "It's lucky I like when you get pouty. Means I get to kiss it better."

And he did.

Then he whispered it all, how I was the most beautiful person he'd ever seen. But not just in the surface way. It was my laugh. My voice. My stubbornness. My way of seeing the world. He said he couldn't put it into words, but that being near me felt like being pulled toward a light he didn't know he needed.

I didn't say anything.

I just kissed him again, fingers combing through his hair.

And sometime after that, with the CD still playing and our bodies tangled, we fell asleep. His fingers were tracing shapes into my skin— soft, lazy, aimless. Like he didn't even know he was doing it. Like he just wanted to feel me under his hands.

I fell asleep thinking about how lucky I was.

I was in love with this boy whose eyes lit up when he talked about Quidditch. Who scrunched his nose when he laughed, like he was trying to hold it in but never could. Who made me feel like the most important person in any room, just by looking at me like I mattered. Who'd break into a fit of boyish giggles that made my stomach braid.

I fell asleep thinking about how, when he held me, there wasn't a single place I'd rather be.

And I knew, without a flicker of doubt, I was in love with Cedric Diggory.

And I'd wait a lifetime for this, if I had to.

༻✦༺

The morning came gently.

I woke slowly, somewhere between a dream and the warmth of his body tangled with mine.

For a second, I couldn't remember where I was— just that it smelled like him and I was warm.

Safe. 

My legs were draped over his, our bodies fitted together like we'd always belonged like this.

The room had gone quiet, save for the soft ticking of a clock on the wall and the hush of wind brushing against the windows.

His arm was heavy across my waist, his face buried against the crook of my neck. I could feel each slow breath he took, soft and steady.

I didn't move. I just stared at the ceiling, trying to memorize it all. The early light seeping in through the curtains. The faint trace of his cologne still clinging to my skin. The way one of his curls had fallen into his eyes.

I could still feel where he'd kissed me. The necklace he gave me sat cool against my chest, catching little glints of silver light. I traced it lightly, fingers brushing over the tiny C on the charm, and felt something bloom in my chest all over again.

This was real.

Him. Us. All of it.

I didn't want to wake him. I wanted to freeze this moment, tuck it away where nothing could ruin it.

But outside, the world was waiting. 

And Christmas morning at the Burrow wasn't going to wait for me.

I turned to him gently, brushing my nose against his cheek.

"Ced," I whispered, shaking his shoulder. "Ced."

He groaned, shifting beneath the covers. "Sweetheart, what—?"

"I have to head back before everyone wakes up. It's Christmas."

He grumbled sleepily. "Merry Christmas, gorgeous." His voice was scratchy and low as he nuzzled into my neck. I felt him inhale, long and slow.

"Are you... are you smelling my hair?"

"Mhm." His arms tightened around my waist like a sleepy bear refusing to let go.

I giggled, squirming out of his hold. "I have to go!"

"Tell them I kidnapped you," he mumbled into the pillow, voice muffled.

"I'm stealing your sweater," I said, already tugging it on— the same one I'd tossed to the floor the night before while undressing him. It smelled like him— warm skin, cedarwood, that boyish cologne I couldn't name but knew by heart.

I pulled open the curtains. Morning light spilled in, soft and silver, casting long shadows across the floor. The snow outside glittered like powdered diamonds.

Cedric groaned, burying his face in the pillow. "Too bright."

"I'll sneak out the window," I murmured, brushing hair from my face, ignoring his muffled protest. "Quieter that way."

But he shook his head, eyes still hazy with sleep as he pushed himself upright. "Come on. We'll go through the front. Everyone's still asleep."

We dressed quietly, pulling on scarves and mittens, boots thudding softly on the wooden floor. He wrapped his scarf around me, twice, like he was shielding me from the world. Then he tugged my hat too far down on my head, making me giggle and swat at him.

I wanted to kiss him again right there. Instead, I smiled like an idiot.

The village was quiet, blanketed in snow, the world still tucked into sleep. We walked hand-in-hand past hedgerows heavy with frost and windows glowing with warm light, our breath curling in the cold air between us.

His cheeks were pink from the cold, his fingers laced tightly with mine.

And still, I could feel him under my skin—buzzing, electric. Part of me wanted to drag him into the nearest snowbank and climb on top of him. 

But then, right before the Burrow came into view, he stopped walking. Turned to me. Wrapped his arms around me tight, burying his nose in my hair— holding me like he couldn't stand the idea of letting go.

"I don't want to leave you," he murmured.

"You'll see me tonight," I whispered back.

I kissed him. Just once, soft and sure, not dragging it out. We didn't need to.  We knew we'd do this all over again later— after dinner, after the house had gone quiet, after the lights dimmed and footsteps faded upstairs.

That was enough.

I gave his hand one last squeeze, then turned toward the path, boots crunching through fresh snow. The cold bit at my cheeks, but I barely felt it. The warmth of him still lingered in my fingertips.

And just like that, I was gone— moving through the still-sleeping village, the sky just beginning to lighten behind the trees. I snuck back into the Burrow just before the first creaks of footsteps sounded overhead. Upstairs, I changed swiftly into my pajamas and slipped under the covers, heart still racing with an hour to spare before the whole house erupted into Christmas.

Soon, the house began to wake. Groggy footsteps echoed in the hallway, doors creaked open, and muffled yawns filled the air. Everyone emerged with sleep-heavy eyes, most of them were still hungover from the night before— faces puffy, voices hoarse, movements a little too careful. But despite the dull throb behind their eyes, they were still eager, still smiling, already drifting toward the living room in search of warmth and presents.

No one suspected a thing.

We gathered in the living room, the scent of cinnamon and pine filling the air. The fire crackled warmly, casting a golden glow over the room as we settled in to exchange gifts.

Harry unwrapped a single unmatched sock from the Dursleys— creased, questionably clean, and still the reigning champion of worst holiday gift in recorded history. I handed him a book on British and Irish Quidditch teams, watching his face light up.

Ron unwrapped a bulging bag of Dungbombs from Hermione, which made him beam despite pretending he was too old for them. But it was the small leather-bound journal I gave him, with a golden Chudley Cannons crest embossed on the front and his initials etched in the corner, that he turned over in his hands like there wasn't a gift more perfect. 

Mrs. Weasley's jumpers were as dependable as ever. Mine was the softest shade of blue. Harry's was green with a dragon stitched across the front, no doubt Charlie's doing.

Fred and George, still high on the chaos of their latest success, gifted each of us our own individually wrapped Canary Creams— complete with a glittery tag that read "Eat Me (Coward)." 

I set mine aside carefully and made a private vow to never eat so much as a crisp from either of them again.

Ginny gifted me the lipstick I'd been eyeing for weeks in Hogsmeade— rose petal pink, moody, perfect. I gave her a cropped jumper she'd tried on once at Gladrags and hadn't stopped talking about since. We both squealed when we unwrapped each other's gifts.

Hermione handed me a neatly wrapped stack of notebooks, my name engraved in gold on the covers. "For your writing," she said, a little shyly. On the first page of one, in her tiny, perfect handwriting, she'd already jotted down the full ingredient list and method for the contraceptive potion she brewed me. "In case of an emergency," she mouthed across the room.

I was honestly just relieved my mom managed to send something on time. Her package was a full box— overflowing with wrapped CDs, a couple pieces of new clothes, a tiny jar of my favorite lip balm, and a letter that made my throat tighten as I read it. She told me she loved me. That she was proud of me. That she hoped I was smiling more than I was stressing.

And buried underneath all of it, tucked neatly in the corner like a final wink, was a year's worth of birth control.

God, I loved her.

After the gifts were opened and the room began to settle, I curled up cross-legged in front of the fire, cocoa warming my hands, snow still falling in soft sheets outside the window. The living room glowed— golden with firelight, buzzing with sleepy laughter and rustling wrapping paper.

Ginny twirled once in front of the window, running her hands over the crimson top I'd gotten her from Hogsmeade, grinning like she couldn't believe how good it looked.

George crouched by the fire, trying to sneak another Canary Cream into Harry's hands like it was a dare. Harry swatted him away with a muttered, "Absolutely not," eyes still glued to his new book, clearly not in the mood to cough up feathers again.

Hermione was already curled up in the armchair, half-wrapped in a throw blanket, fully engrossed in the book I'd given her for Christmas— 'Witches Who Changed the World', a rare out-of-print biography collection I found in an antique shop near Diagon Alley. She was already a few chapters in, lips pursed, brow furrowed in that way she got when she was absorbing every word.

And through it all, I felt him.

The weight of his touch still pressed into my skin. His scent clinging to the collar of the sweater I'd stolen without shame. His name echoing soft and steady in my head, like a quiet song I didn't want to stop humming.

I felt whole in a way I hadn't dared to hope for. 

"Merry Christmas, guys," I said softly, looking around at the chaos. At my people— my sharp, messy, brilliant little family.

"Merry Christmas," they murmured back through mouthfuls of cocoa and marshmallow, half-asleep, half-glowing.

We played cards. Unwrapped joke sweets. Someone spilled cocoa on the rug and no one cared. We laughed until our ribs ached, so loud and genuine it made the walls feel warm.  It was joy. Simple, messy, fleeting joy. The kind you didn't even know you were missing until you had it.

It had been the best Christmas I'd ever had.

And maybe that was the magic. Not spells. Not charms.

But being far from home and not feeling it.

Being with people who made you feel like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

And hoping there'd be a hundred more days just like this one.

♱ 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ♱

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[marklikely]

i feel like its a rite of passage to see léon being hyped up as this amazing movie so you watch it and then go hmm. not sure about the portrayal of preteen girls in this one. and then you look into it and find out all the awful shit that got cut AND what luc besson's inspiration for making it was and you want to chew glass

[depressed-freak13]

autistic eddie who has only dated steve.

theyve been dating for a few weeks before eddies mind starts to wander and think of what dating someone else would be like. but purely in a logical-scientific-i-must-test-this-hypothesis sense.

so he talks to steve and steve is so supportive. he says eddie should find someone safe to take on a date to test his theory.

the day comes where eddie takes daniel—danny—on a date. steve has a shift with robin at family video.

robin has been anxiously flitting about the store since their shifts began. shes been rambling non-stop about anything and everything—utter nonsense. robin just wants to keep steves mind off eddie being on a date with someone else.

she knows steve. she knows how quickly he falls in love and how close to the cusp of it he is with eddie.

if hes not already there yet.

eventually though, eventually, robins rambling works against her. she cant remember how she got here—talking about her hopeless love life and how shes destined to be alone forever.

but it pops out.

“—just want something like you and eddie.”

silence.

robin stops breathing.

she did that. she totally did that. she cant believe she did that.

steve doesnt say anything. robins back is to him so she cant see his face. she cant see how massively she fucked up.

robin is determined to live her life standing in this family video with her back to steve so she can never see his reaction and never know how she just broke his heart—oh my god shes a terrible best friend—

a noise interrupts her panic. a noise from steve. a noise that robin is familiar with.

robin whips around, nearly spinning in a complete circle with her speed.

—hes—hes—hes—guffawing?

robin doesnt know how else to describe it. steve is behind the family video counter, one hand splayed across the counter. the other hand is holding his stomach as he snort-laugh-coughs?-wheezes so hard robin swears she can feel the vibrations in the soles of her feet.

robin is over here—planning the end of her life because she thought she broke her soulmates heart.

and steve is—steve is—

steve has spent the last 8 months spending time with eddie. he sat by his hospital bed, keeping eddie company with his horrid jokes and stumbling through his first reading of the hobbit because

“stevie its my favorite”

steve drove eddie to his physical therapy appointments and cheered eddie on when the metalhead had good days. steve also embraced the silence and made sure to stop for a treat on the way home when eddie had a bad day.

when eddie was finished with physical therapy, steve learned all of the stretches and exercises that would help eddie maintain his strength and mobility. every day, without fail, steve would remind eddie to do the stretches and exercises the two of them learned. and on days when eddie adamantly refused—steve would use his harrington charm to either guilt or beg eddie into completing them.

even when steve wasnt spending time with eddie at the hospital or for doctors appointments—the two were always together. whether they were showing each other their favorite movies or eddie was forcing steve to expand his music knowledge or the two were sitting out at the quarry, smoking a joint from eddies personal stash—“its the good stuff steve. if we’re gonna be besties you gotta smoke the good stuff”—and gazing at the stars. they were always together.

the point is—the point is—steve has spent a lot of time with eddie. a lot of time where steve has come to see eddie for his likes and dislikes—and read how to see that on eddies face.

steve knows he doesnt have much going for him. hes not book smart, he doesnt have much of a career, hes not overly ambitious (and of course none of that makes him less—thanks eddie) but steve has always been people smart.

hes always had a knack for reading people. he can tell when someone is genuinely enjoying something versus when theyre faking it—even if theyre a really good actor.

and steve has spent a lot of time with eddie—as previously stated—which means steve can read eddie like he hand-wrote that book.

so steve can see that eddie has never been drawn to someone like hes been drawn to steve. even in the beginning, when they were just strangers who had saved the world together, steve saw how eddie reacted to him differently than anyone else. looking back on those moments now, steve recognizes the attraction—the fire—the love—that was lit in his chocolate eyes. steve has never seen eddie look at anyone else that way.

steve also saw how eddie nearly physically recoiled when danny picked him up.

—not that he meant to be there. he totally didnt mean to be there. happy accident. pure coincidence—

max had been asking steve to take her out to the diner—absolutely not begging, no matter what anyone said. it was just coincidence that he happened to do it on the same day and around the same time as eddies date with danny.

—okay so steve and max totally planned it and they were definitely peeking out the curtains of maxs trailer for a full hour before danny finally showed up—

but thats beside the point.

steve had seen danny get out of his car and knock on the trailer door. the door opened and eddie appeared and steve could not contain his snort.

steve didnt know what it was about danny.

his clothes

his smile

his smell

his face

but something about danny repelled eddie. steve saw eddies brow and eye twitch. a sure sign he was holding back from flinching away.

eddie was definitely not interested in danny.

for a second, steve thought about walking over and claiming eddie had outstanding plans with him and max. an easy escape for eddie.

but then steve thought for another second, and couldnt wait to hear about how bad of a time eddie had.

—of course, steve would absolutely step in if eddie was feelng uncomfortable or unsafe. but steve knew that eddie was able to handle himself, and might get frustrated if steve tried to step in. steve also knew that eddie desperately wanted to test his date theory, even at the expanse of himself.

so steve let eddie go on his date, and then steve went to the diner with max and came to work his shift with robin.

which is where he was now, struggling to breathe as he laughs at robins unnecessary panic and counting down the minutes until his shift ends and he can show up at the trailer, hear about eddies date theory, and snuggle up with his boyfriend.

[aewon]

the shift

jungwon x fem reader genre: smut MDNI!!!! wc: 3593 warnings: e2l kinda, ice hockey player jungwon (just mentioned), manager reader, mentioned other members, mentioned chaewon( she’s my go to clearly lol), jungwon’s just annoying to reader, virgin reader, dick sucking, pussy eating, multiple orgasms (2 each), fingering, flirty jungwon, cursing obv, if there’s anything else lmk

note: this is a rewrite of a fic that i had on @/wonkizz, it’s not great but it’s better than what i had og so :p the smut isn’t great but oh well also not proofread so

The university’s ice hockey team was golden, and it was all thanks to Yang Jungwon.

The team’s captain had spent long hours training to make sure the team was efficient in every category.

And now, their hard work paid off as they had landed a spot in nationals against one of the hardest teams to beat.

They’re not worried, they know the team is good, but they’re better.

Normally, you’d praise a team for being confident in their skills, but you think they’re just damn cocky.

It’s even worse considering the fact that Jungwon has taken an unknown liking to you, the team's manager.

Why are you their manager? Because you needed the credit for a class and it was the only thing available.

Back to Jungwon.

The guy is infuriating. He flirts with you constantly, teasing you and messing with you. It’s annoying and no matter how much you tell him to stop, he never does.

With the amount the two of you bicker back and forth, you’re surprised you haven’t been fired yet.

Now, in terms of nationals, it’s an away game, which means a trip to another state. As their manager, that means you have to go too.

You curse every being out there at the fact that you have to go, but what can you do?

It’s 6:00 am when you arrive at the meet up spot on campus. Coach Shin, the head (and only) coach, is already there with the small bus set up for you and the team to take.

The boys aren’t here yet, no surprise there. They always like to be late, for whatever god given reason they have.

“Those boys, I swear they give me a headache every single fucking day,” Coach Shin complains. You can only nod along with his sentiment, scrolling your phone with no real purpose.

6:15 rolls around and oh thank heavens! Here they come in Jay’s beat up car that he loves to call his baby regardless of its status.

Jungwon doesn’t waste a moment, coming to your side and wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Did you sleep well, pretty?”

You push his side, trying and failing to get him off you.

“No, unfortunately I didn’t. But I’ll be taking the chance to catch up on my sleep on the bus.”

“Oh?” He inquires, “And what exactly made it not so good? Did something keep you up? Or…someone?”

You push him harder, scowling as he laughs at your face.

Although you finally managed to free yourself from him, the thought of being stuck on a bus with him for 6 hours does not please you.

Coach Shin gathers everyone on the bus, choosing to sit near the front while the boys sit in the back.

You put in your headphones, playing your music on low while the bus departs.

As you leave campus, and eventually your town, your eyes begin to flutter.

They eventually shut and you fall asleep.

When you awaken, your head isn’t resting on the window like it was when you left. Instead, it’s resting against something softer, something moving.

You open your eyes, looking up to see Jungwon’s face centimeters from yours.

You shoot up, realizing your head was resting on his shoulder.

“Sleep well?” He asks, scrolling through his phone like nothing.

“Why are you here?” You ask, trying to create space between your bodies but failing miserably.

“You looked lonely, so I decided to keep you company.”

“Well I wasn’t, if anything you interrupted me.”

Jungwon pouts mockingly, “That’s not very nice. I tried to be kind and this is how I’m repaid?”

“And how exactly do you want to be repaid?”

He takes the opportunity to slide his arm around your waist, squeezing your side, “I could think of one way.”

You grab his arm, gripping his wrist tightly and taking it off you, “As if!”

The whole team begins to laugh at your expense.

You sit there, planning on how to kill Jungwon in your head while he goes back to his original seat, smirking.

You look down at your phone, realizing 4 hours have passed. You sigh in relief, only 2 more hours to go.

Those 2 hours pass somewhat quickly, and you’re parking at your hotel before you know it.

As you get off the bus and gather your things, the sun shines down on you.

It’s blue skies and sunshine in this state, and you wish for nothing more than time to relax.

Coach Shin gathers you all in the hotel lobby, checking in and handing you room keys.

“Naturally you’re all paired with someone, except Y/N.”

“Don’t tell me she gets a room to herself,” Heeseung complains, making the others start to complain as well.

Coach Shin raises his hand, “Don’t start! Of course she has a room to herself, idiots!”

The boys grumble on their way up to the hotel floor.

You check into your room, throwing your bag on the small couch and sitting on the bed eagerly.

You pull out your phone, texting your friend Chaewon.

You: we just checked in :p

Chae 🐯: has jungwon annoyed you much?

You: of course he has but it’s whatever ig 🤥

Chae 🐯: yall gotta like…fuck it out or smth atp

You: EW no why would i do that

Chae 🐯: because the tension is crazy!!!

You: the tension is made up in your head 🙂‍↕️

Chae 🐯: WHATEVER what are you gonna do now

You: i think we’re getting lunch or smth and then idk

Chae 🐯: well keep me updated

You: yeah yeah 😑

You turn off your phone just as there’s a knock on your door.

Coach Shin stands there, “We’re headed to lunch, are you ready?”

You grab your purse with your hotel key, wallet and phone.

“Yes, let’s go!”

The boys are already waiting by the elevator for you, and you all cram inside and head downstairs to the dining hall.

Once seated, you order fettuccine with shrimp scampi while everyone else gets some sort of beef or chicken. They’re all protein freaks, always talking about getting in more of it everyday.

Lunch goes by with little to no conversation between you and any of the boys, no surprise there.

Although you do make conversation with Coach Shin about nationals and how the boys need to play if they want to win.

Not that it really interests you.

You couldn’t care less if they win or lose.

Everyone is given time off to do whatever they want once lunch is over.

You choose to head to the hotel pool to finally relax, and maybe even tan a little.

You put on your bathing suit, and head to the pool with the same purse you brought to lunch.

Surprisingly, there’s no one around.

You sit back on your towel and relax, letting yourself soak up the sun that beats down on you.

But of course, you can never have anything to yourself.

Within 15 minutes of your relaxation, you hear an agitating noise come from the entrance by the pool.

You look up and see the boys, all in their swimsuits, heading your way.

You groan, “Oh Jesus Christ! Can’t a woman get one fucking minute of peace!”

They all look at you, grinning mischievously. They know! They know damn well!

“You don’t own the pool,” Sunghoon says knowingly.

“No shit I don’t own the pool, but you knew I’d be down here to relax and now I can’t!”

“We’ll be quiet, swear,” Jake says, crossing his fingers over his heart.

You sigh, laying your head back down, trying to get back into your relaxation mode.

That was a damn lie.

Within 5, no! 4 minutes, they’re making noise. So much noise it could wake up the dead. Splashing, yelling, cursing, you name it they’re doing it!

Nobody else seems to be bothered because no one comes out to tell them to shut up, so it’s just you and them. Them, overjoyed and you, annoyed.

You want to bang your head against the nearest wall when you hear Jungwon’s voice call out to you, “How’d you know blue’s my favorite color?” He asks, referring to your bathing suit.

“I didn’t,” you respond. “I didn’t wear this for you!”

He puts his hands up in mock surrender, “If you say so. You should come in, the water feels great.”

You look down at the blue water, and back up at him repeatedly. “I’d rather not, it looks cold.”

“Oh come on,” he whines, “it’s not! See for yourself.” With that, he sends a big splash your way, dousing the bottom of your legs with water.

You curse at the cold temperature, Jungwon now laughing hysterically along with the other guys.

You get up before you know it, and send a big splash that douses the entirety of them in one sitting.

They all look at you in shock, Jungwon especially as if he isn’t the one who started it.

“No fair! I didn’t wanna get my hair wet,” Sunghoon complains.

“Well that’s too bad now isn’t it,” you retort, hands on your hips.

Before you can say anything further, Jungwon is out of the pool, lifting you up in his arms.

You didn’t realize how strong or broad he is.

As your hands find his shoulders to hold onto, you begin to panic, “What are you doing? Put me down!”

“Nope, now you’ve done it,” Jungwon says smiling, and then without another word he throws you into the pool.

You hit the water with a big splash, the boys all cheering as you’re now just as soaked as them.

You come up, looking at Jungwon in pure shock and somewhat horror.

“You…you’re so dead!”

Jungwon shrugs, “Guess I’m dead then.”

You spend the next half hour playing with the boys in the pool.

By the time you get back to your room, you’ve tired yourself out.

After showering and changing, you take a long nap.

Once you awaken, the clock next to you reads 7:00 pm.

You order dinner for yourself and eat while watching the latest show on Netflix.

By 7:30 you’ve finished your meal and are relaxing when there’s a knock at your door.

Jungwon stands there, freshly showered too.

“Hi,” he says, albeit somewhat awkwardly.

“Hey, do you need something?”

“I wanted to talk, if that’s alright?”

You step aside, letting him in, “Sure, what about?”

“Us,” he says.

You stand there confused as he sits on the edge of your bed.

“What about us?” You ask.

“I felt like there was a shift today, when we were having fun earlier. It felt…different. Having fun with you instead of arguing with you. It was nice.”

“I agree, it was nice Jungwon. I liked seeing that side of you that doesn’t constantly annoy me.”

You didn’t mean for it to come out so harsh, but it does.

But instead of looking hurt or offended, Jungwon just smirks, “But do you realize why I annoy you?”

You shake your head.

“It’s because I like you, stupid.”

You take a second to take in those words. I…like…you? He likes you?

“You mean like, romantically?”

“Yes Y/N, romantically.” He chuckles, sweeping his hair out of his eyes.

You stand there, not knowing what to do.

“Why…why do you like me?”

Jungwon seems caught off guard by that question.

He thinks for a minute before answering,

“I like how passionate you are with everything you do. Even with hockey, we know you don’t really like it but you still do your best as our manager regardless. I like your laugh and your smile, even when they’re not directed at me. I like how clumsy you are sometimes. I like how your tongue sticks out when you’re concentrating on something. I like everything about you, Y/N.”

You feel your heart beat faster as Jungwon speaks, taking in his words and his feelings with care and kindness rather than disgust or disdain.

“Jungwon, I didn’t know you really felt that way.”

“I don’t expect you to feel the same. I just wanted you to know. And I thought maybe, maybe we could try something. I could take you out? See how you feel about that?”

You don’t know what switch inside you went off, but the thought of a date with Jungwon, after today’s events, doesn’t seem so bad.

“I’d actually like that. I’d like that a lot.”

He perks up and it’s oh so cute.

You finally find the courage to sit next to him on the bed, brushing your hand against his.

He looks into your eyes, for any signs of discomfort.

When he doesn’t find any, he leans in, pressing a delicate kiss against your lips.

It only lasts a few seconds, but it’s breathtaking nonetheless.

“Jungwon?”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me again.”

He does as he’s told, pressing his lips against yours harder this time.

You reciprocate the kiss, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, your hands finding the base of his neck and playing with the hair at the nape of it.

Your lips move in sync, creating more passion as it goes.

Jungwon moves, his hand that was resting on the bed comes forward to rest on your waist.

His tongue presses against your lips and you open your mouth, giving him access.

Your tongues move together, the kiss becoming more and more heated as time goes on.

Jungwon’s hand comes to rest on your arm, lightly pushing you down so you're resting on the bed, his frame coming to hover over you.

You separate, lightly gasping for air as you look into each other’s eyes.

“Tell me you want this as much as I do,” Jungwon says, practically pleading.

“I want this, Jungwon. I want you.”

Jungwon dives back in, trailing kisses down the front of your neck, to the exposed part of your chest.

His fingers find the hem of your shirt, “Can I take this off?”

“Please.”

He pulls it up, over your head.

His large hands find your breasts immediately.

His fingers tug and twist your nipples, making your back arch up off the bed.

He leans down, taking your left nipple into his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue around it as you moan in pleasure.

“Fuck Jungwon, that feels…” you trail off, not able to finish your sentence as he switches to the other nipple.

He trails kisses down your stomach, until he reaches the waistband of your shorts.

“Wait,” you say, and Jungwon stops immediately.

“What is it? Are you uncomfortable?”

“No, no. I just… I wanna take care of you first.”

“Y/N you don’t have to—”

“But I want to. Although, I’ve never done this before, so you’ll have to guide me.”

“You’re a virgin?”

You nod, taking your lip between your teeth.

“That’s okay, pretty, I’ll guide you.”

Jungwon gets up and takes his own shirt off, revealing what you saw earlier but weren’t paying attention to.

His broad shoulders, toned chest and lean torso.

You could drool, he’s so your type.

Your attention is taken by him shrugging his pants and boxers down.

You get down on the carpet in front of him, anticipating.

His cock is already hard. It stands at attention, long and girthy but not too much.

You have to admit, you’ve done some research online in anticipation of this moment. You just hope you don’t fuck it up.

You spit into your hand, lathering it on his cock, listening to him hiss as your cold hand meets the warmth of his skin.

The tip is blaring red, evident of how much he wants this.

You stroke him a few times, just to start.

Then, you slowly take him into your mouth, starting just with the head.

You suck on it, tasting the precum he’s been leaking.

Then you take more of him into your mouth, avoiding your teeth as much as you can.

“God, it seems like you already know what you’re doing, where’d that come from huh?” You know he’s teasing but you feel a responsibility to answer genuinely.

You pull off of him slowly, “I may have done some research about this kind of thing before.”

You smile up at him, watching as his mouth opens in slight shock.

“Ah, so my pretty girl isn’t as innocent as she looks?”

His hand comes up to grab the back of your head, not forcing you but simply as a guide.

You take him back into your mouth, holding what won’t fit in your mouth.

You begin to bob your head, stroking what doesn’t fit.

You think you’re doing a good job, if Jungwon’s moans mean anything.

“Just like that, pretty girl,” he says.

You use the hand that’s stroking him and twist it slightly as you go, creating a solid rhythm.

The sounds of you sucking his cock turn him on so much, he thinks he could cum from that alone, but that plus the pleasure he’s feeling being Jungwon closer to orgasm than he’d like to admit.

Within just a few minutes, he’s close.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, pretty. Where do you want it?”

You pull off slightly but keep the tip in your mouth, sucking on it, indicating you want him to cum in your mouth.

Jungwon thinks he’s a goner, as he cums in your mouth, painting your throat white while he moans loudly.

As he comes down from his high, panting softly, he helps you up from the floor, before turning you around and pushing you back against the bed.

“It’s my turn to please you.”

As you sit up against the pillows, his fingers find the waistband of your shorts, “Can I take these off?”

You nod, watching as his eyes come in contact with your bare pussy.

“No underwear? Naughty girl.”

You’re already soaking wet, your arousal painting your folds and making them glisten in the dim lighting of the room.

“Fuck, you look so pretty. Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen, baby,” Jungwon says, taking a gentle finger and rubbing it against your folds.

You jerk at the contact, whining as his fingers slide through them.

“Are you gonna make me feel good, Wonnie?”

He groans at the cute nickname, “I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby.”

With that, he leans down, taking your clit directly into his mouth.

You gasp, arching off the bed as Jungwon sucks on it.

His fingers play with your folds as his tongue swirls around your clit, playing with it.

“Oh my god, Jungwon!”

Fingers soaked in your arousal, he slowly eases one finger inside you, being as gentle as he can.

You whimper at the intrusion. It doesn’t hurt but it’s uncomfortable.

“I know pretty, I know,” he comforts you, thumb rubbing your clit making you feel just as much pleasure.

He goes back to sucking on it, tongue gathering all your slick and swallowing it eagerly.

“You taste so good, I’ll get addicted.”

He slowly thrusts and curls that finger inside you, the uncomfortable feeling being replaced by pleasure.

Your moans fill the room, your hands coming up to grip Jungwon’s hair.

“That’s right baby, hold onto me,” he says, encouraging you.

As he sucks on your clit, he inserts another finger, curling them repeatedly, stretching you open.

Minutes pass and you can feel the band in your stomach tighten, “I’m gonna cum, Jungwon, fuck!”

“Cum for me, pretty,” he says, as you cum all over his tongue and fingers.

He takes it all in, swallowing your release and watching in amazement as it coats his fingers, more and more spilling out.

He leans forward, lips meeting yours as you taste yourself on him.

“You ready for my cock?” He asks and you nod, spreading your legs further.

He runs his cock up and down your pussy, coating it in your release, before slowly pushing inside you.

Your breathing gets slightly heavier at the feeling of fullness, but it’s a good feeling.

He pauses, giving you all the time you need to adjust.

After a minute, you tell him to move and he wastes no time in thrusting into you at a rhythmic pace.

Your mouth is permanently forced open at the feeling of his thrusts.

The power and precision is just right, making you feel like you’re floating.

“Fuck Jungwon, it feels so good,” you whine, hands gripping his biceps.

“That’s all I could ask for, pretty girl.”

You feel him so deep inside you, it’s mad. It feels so good, something you’ve never felt, nor do you want to feel this with anyone else.

“Fucking me so good, god I love it.”

“Yeah, you love this cock?”

“Fuck yes, I love it!”

His thumb comes to rest on your clit, rubbing deep circles on it, causing you to moan even louder, until you’re practically screaming his name.

“I’m gonna cum, fuck I’m gonna cum Jungwon please don’t stop!”

“Me too, fuck where do you want me to cum?”

“Inside please, I want it so badly.”

He groans into the side of your neck, leaving featherlight kisses against it.

His thrusts become erratic, hitting places so deep, you didn’t know they existed.

“Fuck, I’m cumming,” you whine, releasing all over Jungwon’s cock as he does the same inside you.

Both of you ride out your highs on his slowing thrusts, until he eventually comes to a stop.

As you look into each other's eyes, Jungwon can’t help but smile, “So, about that date.”

AEWON 2025

[lov3notts]

tease

Mattheo Riddle x you

summary: mattheo asks you to be his valentines

a/n: i have other stories on how the boys ask you to be their valentines....should i release them? also thank you for 600 followers!! its still crazy to me

Navigation; masterlist; request rules

mattheo’s version; draco’s version; theo’s version

The week leading up to Valentine’s Day had been a nightmare. Boys throwing grand romantic gestures your way, desperate attempts to win your favor—it was exhausting. And to make things worse, Mattheo had been watching it all unfold with nothing but amusement.

Every time someone asked you, he was there—leaning lazily against a wall, smirking, making some snide comment under his breath.

“Not this guy,” he muttered one morning at breakfast as a Hufflepuff nervously approached you. “Can’t even hold his wand properly, what’s he gonna do with you?”

“Mattheo,” you warned, shooting him a look.

“What? Just saying, sweetheart.” He grinned, tossing a grape into his mouth like this was all a game.

It was driving you insane.

So when Valentine’s Day finally arrived, you expected him to keep up his usual antics—watching, teasing, maybe throwing in a sarcastic Where’s my Valentine’s gift, love? just to rile you up.

But that wasn’t what happened.

Instead, as you left the library that evening, you found yourself cornered.

Literally.

One second, you were walking down the empty corridor, and the next, you were being tugged into an alcove, your back pressed against the cold stone wall. Your breath hitched, and before you could react, he was there.

Mattheo.

Towering over you, hands braced against the wall on either side of your head, his dark curls falling slightly into his face as he looked down at you with that infuriating smirk.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice low. “Not gonna hex you.”

Your heart pounded. “Mattheo, what the hell—”

“You’ve been turning down every single guy this week,” he interrupted, tilting his head. “Kinda started to think you were waiting for someone.”

Your lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

His smirk widened. “So tell me, was I right?”

You swallowed hard, pulse racing. “And if you were?”

For once, he didn’t have a cocky comeback. Instead, his expression shifted—just slightly. Less teasing, more real.

Then, from behind his back, he pulled out a single dark red rose, twirling it lazily between his fingers. “Then maybe I wasn’t wasting my time getting this for you.”

You stared at it, then back at him, completely thrown off.

Mattheo Riddle—chaotic, reckless, maddeningly smug Mattheo Riddle—was nervous.

A slow smile crept onto your lips. “Are you asking me to be your Valentine, Riddle?”

He scoffed, but there was no real edge to it. “Don’t make me say it, love.”

You laughed softly, reaching up to take the rose from his fingers, twirling it between your own.

“Alright then,” you murmured, leaning in slightly. “I’ll say it for you.”

His breath hitched as your lips brushed against his cheek—just the faintest touch before you pulled away, amusement dancing in your eyes.

“Yes, Mattheo,” you whispered. “I’ll be your Valentine.”

For the first time all week, Mattheo was speechless. And you had never seen anything more satisfying.

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©lov3notts ,do not copy, translate or claim any of my writing or works as your own.

[sugarypinecones]

a panic challenge is busted and having to avoid the cops with dodge… sneaking you into his bedroom while his mom and sister sleep… giving you a rodeo t-shirt to sleep in… maybe making the first move straight away… or maybe going to bed and then waking up a few hours later tangled together in his bed…

we were jet-set, bonnie and clyde — dodge mason x reader

warnings: SMUT(?) he never actually gets close enough but he gets.. pretty close, like cum in your pants close oops but i can do a pt2 i just kinda got confused and unsure how to really.. like do things idk and i kinda hate it but it took so much time and writing i feel bad if i scrapt it, mentions of reader living in texas obviously, reader has no real desire to win panic, whiny desperate dodge, idrk how to tag its late im tired, dayna interrupts without knowing

a/n: oh i love this actually. like actually love this. like im foaming at the mouth thinking about this actually. title from getaway car by taylor swift also, love u all and ty for the request!! 💐💐 also sucks esp the ending but like idk im down to rewrite the ending if not continue the tangled thing! just lmk if you actually wanted it and dont be afraid to leave other requests.

Living in Carp, Texas meant that there weren’t many fun things to do. You can only drive around an empty parking lot for so long before getting bored. So when the opportunity of playing Panic rises, you rise with it.

And surprisingly, you didn’t immediately get eliminated. In fact — you’ve somehow made it this far, round two, which.. you’re sure you’re going to fall to your death or just entirely not do it. And you were fine with that, truly. You had your fun.

Now it was time to focus on something a little bit more real – your chances of winning the pot were low, especially because of all that stuff last year, and because of Dodge Mason.

If you didn’t know what determination was before that boy, you definitely did now. It was hard not to see him and not see determination, especially after the first challenge. He didn’t have fear in his eyes when he did it, unlike any of the other contestants. He had something else.

You shift on the hood of the beat-up car, sighing as you look over your shoulder for any sign of your friends. It was hard to tell through the sea of people — some juniors who were eager to see the game, some graduates who refused to play, such and such.

Dodge’s eyes roamed over to you, taking in the way you fiddled with the bracelets on your wrists and the tight, nervous expression on your face. He knew what you were thinking — he could see it in your eyes. I don’t belong here.

He watched you look around for your friends and found himself wondering why you were alone. Why weren’t you with them?

He seems to recognize you from the first challenge, and when you meet his gaze, he raises a hand. A small smile follows, and you can’t stop yourself from smiling in return.

Something sparked in Dodge’s chest as your lips curled into a small smile — he hadn’t expected a smile in return. Nor had he expected your eyes to soften at the sight of him, or your cheeks to flush a pretty shade of pink.

Maybe he had more of a chance with you than he thought.

The sight of you smiling in return gives him just enough confidence to walk over, stopping in-front of you. It was slightly unnerving, but it felt nice. Exhilarating, even.

He smirked to himself, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out to you — and just like that, his bravado returned.

“So,” he started, turning his head to the side to look down at you as he leaned against the car. “Here to root for me?”

Your gaze tilts to him, and you almost laughed. “No, I’m here to win.”

Dodge raised an eyebrow at your response, a scoff and chuckle of disbelief slipping between his lips. He turned around, leaning his hip against the hood of the car, the smirk never wavering from his face.

“Oh, really?” He said, cocking his head to the side. “You honestly think you stand a chance against me?”

He wasn’t sure where all this confidence was coming from - because if it were anyone else, he would’ve just been nodding along with simple responses by now.

You grin. “I know so.”

He let out a hearty laugh and shook his head.

“I’m serious!” You exclaim, although, you really aren’t. You planned to chicken out the second you got called on that death-trap of a beam, no way in hell are you risking your life just to possibly lose in the end.

“Yeah,” he begun, but you shook your head; letting laughs fall from your lips. “No, not really.” You grin up at him, and he acts surprised; but he kind of had a feeling from the start you wouldn’t actually go through with any of this.

“No? What do you mean, ‘no’?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re backing out just like that?”

Your eyes catch on the flex of his muscles as his arms fold over his chest, before flickering back up to his face with a shrug. “I guess—“

You’re cut off by the sound of sirens approaching, closing your eyes as you let out a frustrated exhale. Playing panic was dangerous — watching it, even.

Dodge’s expression quickly turned serious as the sound of sirens filled the air. He immediately turned his head towards the noise, his muscles tense and eyes narrowing.

He quickly looked back over at you, silently cursing how distracted he had become from your presence. He should have been on guard — his focus needed to be on the task at hand, not on some cute girl.

“Cops,” he said lowly, looking back at the police cars approaching.

“Obviously,” you retort, sliding of the hood as you glance over your shoulder. There wasn’t really much places to scatter to, but –

Your train of thought is cut off by his hand on your wrist, pulling you along towards a patch of woods.

Dodge moved fast, tugging on your wrist and pulling you away from the car. He quickly led you towards a patch of woods nearby, trying to put as much distance between you and the cops before they got out of their cars.

He kept his grip on your hand as you ran, his fingers wrapped firmly around your wrist. They were rough — calloused from working on the farm and years of horseback riding.

As they made it into the safety of the trees, Dodge pulled you behind a large oak, pinning you against the trunk.

He quickly retracted, internally cursing himself for doing such. “Sorry, instinct,” he grumbles, although not angry towards you, god, not you.

“You lead a lot of girls away from cops?” You quip, fighting the urge to laugh to yourself.

Dodge let out a huff of a laugh, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his hair. Adrenaline was still coursing through his veins, his heart thudding loudly in his chest.

He’d somehow managed to pull you almost 500 yards within that span of three minutes.

“Yeah, all the time,” he replied sarcastically, his smirk returning as he leaned his shoulder against the tree next to you. “You’re the twenty-third one I’ve led this month alone.”

You roll your eyes, “How charming.”

Dodge chuckled at your eye roll, leaning closer to you and looking down at you. His smirk widened as he pushed himself off of the tree, turning to face you fully.

“Yeah, I’m a real charmer,” he joked, crossing his arms over his chest once more. He paused then, noticing how close he was to you.

He cleared his throat before speaking again, pulling away, partially in fear of scaring you, partially in fear he couldn’t stop himself from asking to kiss you. “So, uh… you got a ride home or something?”

Fuck. No you did not. You hadn’t actually accounted that part down — you came with your friend, who is currently nowhere to be found, if not currently in the back of a cop car.

“No.” You huffed, narrowing your gaze as you looked at him, “I was gonna crash at Natalie’s,” You said, trying to explain your situation, which wasn’t hard to understand to begin with. Came with a friend, planned to leave with a friend, currently 500 yards away from said friend’s car, can’t exactly account to go home, as you told her you were going to bed three hours ago.

Dodge’s eyebrows furrowed at your answer — not out of annoyance, but concern. He knew the cops would be searching everywhere, and you didn’t have a ride home.

He thought for a moment, weighing his options. He couldn’t leave you out here alone until the police left. It was too dangerous.

He let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair again before speaking. “Alright,” he said, looking down at you. “You’re comin’ home with me, then.”

Your eyes widen, and you seem to swallow as you tilt your head forwards, perplexed. “What?”

Dodge raised an eyebrow at your reaction, his expression shifting to confusion. He was surprised that you seemed so shocked by his offer.

Although, he got it. You didn’t know him well — not outside of school at least. You had seem him a few times, sat by him in a few classes. Thought he was cute, too, but never would’ve admitted that.

“You need a place to stay for the night,” he explained, his eyes locked on yours. “And you sure as hell can’t stay here.”

He paused, eyeing you up and down before continuing. “So you’ll stay at my house. It’s not a big deal.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but quickly snapped it shut, knowing he was right. Spending the night in the woods with the cops searching was a recipe for disaster.

Going home would be even worse.

And yet… spending the night at his house still stirred something within you — anxiety, excitement, curiosity — you couldn’t tell.

“Okay,” You nod, eyes darting around. “Yeah.” You exhale, it was for the better. You weren’t gonna sleep on the side of the road, and you knew Dodge.. to an extent, enough to know he’s not gonna pull an axe on you in your sleep.

Dodge’s face morphed into a sly grin as you agreed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He knew he was probably going to regret this later — he’d never brought a girl to his house before, let alone a girl his mother didn’t approve of.

“Atta girl,” he said, lightly patting your shoulder before shoving his hands into his pockets. “Let’s go.”

Dodge stepped away from the protective cover of the trees, gesturing for you to follow him. The coast was clear for now, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

As you fell in step with him, he leaned down to your ear. “Just so you know,” he began in a low voice. “My mom doesn’t know you’re coming over. So.. don’t talk too loud when we get to the house, alright?”

You cock your head to the side, a slight laugh escaping under your breath. “Doesn’t know or isn’t okay?”

Dodge chuckled, shaking his head as he continued walking. “Both,” he answered, his hands still shoved in his pockets.

“She wouldn’t exactly be thrilled to have some girl she’s never met before spend the night out of nowhere.”

You nod, wondering why he’d offer in the first place then. He could’ve left you to get in trouble with your mom, left you to get eliminated, anything else.

“Is that your car?” You tilt your head forwards, breaking the silence that fell over the two teens, eyeing a white car.

Dodge followed your gaze, looking at the car you were eyeing. He nodded, a proud smile forming on his lips. “Yeah,” he said, a hint of boasting in his voice. “That’s her.”

You find it slightly funny that he’s gendered his car.

He quickly started towards the car, reaching it within a few long strides. He pulled the passenger side door open, motioning for you to get in. “C’mon.”

You almost hesitate — but, it’s not like you have another choice — or enough self control.

You hesitated for a moment, looking at the open door before climbing inside. You settled into the leather seat, shutting the door behind you, your stomach twisting with nervousness.

Dodge walked around to the driver’s side and got in, settling into the seat and buckling his seatbelt. He twisted the key in the ignition, the engine of the car coming to life with a low, rumbling purr.

He pulled out of the field and onto the road, navigating the deserted streets skillfully. You sat in silence for a few moments, the only sound being the low hum of the engine and the occasional crunch of gravel beneath the tires.

Dodge glanced over at you out of the corner of his eye, noticing how tense and quiet you seemed. He cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “You alright?”

You nod. “Yeah, I guess it’s just..” You trailed off, unsure of how to actually describe the feeling.

It wasn’t scary, but it was. You were almost excited, but you didn’t know him well. Any knowledgeable person would be wary, but god, was Dodge Mason cute.

“I don’t know.”

Dodge chuckled, a sympathetic scoff falling from his lips at your failed attempt at putting your feelings into words.

He could tell you were conflicted about all of this — going home with a guy you barely knew, spending the night in a home you’ve never been to before… he didn’t blame you.

He sighed, his hands gripping the steering wheel tighter. “Yeah, I’m sure this isn’t how you planned to spend your night, huh?”

You scoff. “Who doesn’t plan to go home with a boy they barely know after cops raid them?”

He shook his head with a grin and looked over at you again, his eyes scanning over your features. Despite the absurdity of the situation, he couldn’t help the fluttery feeling in his chest as he looked at you.

You stayed silent for a moment, your eyes fixed on the passing scenery outside the car window. The night was still and quiet, only the hum of the engine breaking the silence.

“Dodge?” You spoke up suddenly, your voice soft.

Dodge’s attention immediately went to you, his eyes flickering over to glance at you. “Yeah?” He responded, his tone just as quiet as yours.

You shifted in your seat, turning to face him. “Can I ask you something?” you inquired, your expression slightly serious.

Dodge raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued by the sudden shift in your demeanor. “Shoot,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the road.

You paused for a moment, collecting your thoughts before speaking. “Why did you offer to let me stay the night?”

The question had been weighing on your mind since the moment he suggested it. You knew he wasn’t exactly the most responsible or trustworthy person, yet he’d gone out of his way to offer you refuge at his home.

Dodge’s grip tightened around the steering wheel as you asked the question. He expected it, knowing it was bound to come up eventually, but he wasn’t exactly prepared to answer it fully.

The truth was simple — he found you attractive, intriguing, and he was drawn to you in a way he couldn’t explain. But he wasn’t going to say that out loud, not yet.

Instead, he shrugged nonchalantally. “Seemed like you needed a place to stay,” he responded, keeping his tone casual.

Your eyebrows furrowed, sensing the hint of evasion in his answer. You knew there was more to it than that, but you also knew it wasn’t your place to push him for the truth — especially given your options in the current moment.

You let out a sigh, leaning back in your seat and looking out the window again. The rest of the ride passed in silence, only broken by the sound of the engine and the occasional rumble of the road beneath the tires.

After a few minutes, Dodge finally pulled into a long gravel driveway, leading up to a house. The house was modest, but well-kept. Even in the dim light, you could make out the meticulously maintained garden and the freshly painted exterior.

He shifted the car into park and killed the engine, turning to look at you. “We’re here.”

You unbuckled your seatbelt and looked out the windshield, taking in the sight of the house. It was cozy, but not overly extravagant. It looked lived in — a home owned by a family who actually spent time here.

You let out a shaky breath, nerves starting to bubble up inside you once more. This was really happening. You were really going in there.

It wasn’t like regular nerves you’d had before. Not like panic, more like when you’re hanging out with a friend you’ve met for the first time — although, you technically know Dodge.

Dodge could sense the anxiety radiating from you, your nervousness evident in the way you fidgeted in your seat. He let out a low sigh, his eyes flickering over your features for a moment before speaking.

“You’re gonna be fine,” he reassured you, his voice soft. “My mom and sister are probably already asleep, so just stay quiet.”

You nodded, smiling. “Well, let’s go then. I’m tired.”

Dodge returned your smile with a nod of his own, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he turned his attention to unbuckling his seatbelt.

He pushed the driver’s side door open, the soft creak of the metal mixing with the sound of the crickets chirping in the night air. He got out of the car and shut the door, rounding the hood and opening your door for you.

You stepped out of the car, your shoes crunching on the gravel beneath them. You followed Dodge as he led the way to the front door, your eyes darting around nervously, taking in the surroundings.

He paused in front of the door and fumbled through his pockets, searching for his keys. After a moment, he fished them out and unlocked the door, pushing it open quietly.

He wasn’t exactly worried about making noise - his mom usually didn’t pay mind to him coming late. She figured he’d be home way later in any other circumstances, anyways.

As Dodge opened the door, a warm, inviting light spilled out from inside the house. You followed him inside, stepping into the entranceway and closing the door softly behind you.

The interior of the house was cozy and homey, with warm wood accents and comfortable furnishings. There was a sense of order and cleanliness, but it didn’t feel overly stiff or overly lived-in.

Dodge gestured for you to keep your shoes on, before nodding towards a hallway. “My room’s down there,” he whispered, indicating the direction of a long hallway to the left of the entryway.

You followed his gaze, looking down the hallway. You could see several doors lining the sides of the hallway, presumably leading to different rooms — bathrooms, bedrooms, and the like.

You looked back at Dodge, your heart rate increasing as you realized the implication of his words. His room. Where he sleeps. Where you’ll be sleeping, in close proximity to him.

Dodge noticed the look on your face, noticing the way your eyes widened slightly, betraying your thoughts. He chuckled softly, trying to ease the tension.

“Relax,” he whispered, his tone playful. “You’ll be fine. My room’s big enough for the both of us.”

You roll your eyes, “OK, cowboy.” You step into the open door, taking in the dimly-lit room. It wasn’t much. Just trophies, a wardrobe and a bed and small clutter around the room.

You liked it. You could get used to it.

Dodge chuckled at your nickname, following you into the room and shutting the door behind him. The atmosphere grew more intimate as you both entered the enclosed space, the faint smell of his cologne mingling with the scent of his laundry detergent.

He leaned against the wall, watching you look around with a slight smirk on his lips. “Make yourself comfortable,” he said, gesturing to the bed.

You don’t take any convincing, and immediately flop down onto the bed, exhaling at the feel of the differing comfort in comparison to his car and old truck.

Dodge let out another chuckle as you flopped onto the bed, his eyes watching you sprawled out on his sheets. the sight amused him - you looked like a starfish on the soft material of the mattress.

He pushed away from the wall and walked across the room, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to you. “Comfy?” He teased, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Yeah,” you hummed, a soft grin adorning your face. “although,” you sit up, glancing to him, “wish I would’ve known i’d be having a sleepover. All my stuff is in Nat’s car.”

Dodge chuckled, his eyes scanning over you as you sat up next to him. “Well, I didn’t exactly plan for this either,” he retorted, a smirk still playing on his lips.

He thought for a moment, his gaze flicking towards the door and then back to you. “You can borrow something to sleep in, if you want.”

You nod vicariously, laughing. “I am not sleeping in this.”

Dodge chuckled, leaning back on his arms as he looked you up and down. He took in your outfit, noting how out of place it seemed in this setting.

“Yeah, it’s not exactly sleepwear,” he agreed, amusement in his voice. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering over your body before he spoke again. “I got some old T-shirts you can borrow.”

He stood up, walking over to the closet, before tossing a shirt your way. It was larger, but you could tell that it was his. It smelt faintly like him, and you can make the outlines out of a cracked pattern from an old rodeo.

You smiled up at him, appreciatively. “Thanks,” you said, placing the clothes down beside you. “Do you mind if I change here?”

Being caught by his sister or mom wasn’t exactly a want for you right now.

“Nope, go ahead,” he replied, leaning against the wall lazily. “I won’t look.”

You nodded, watching as his gaze shifts towards the closet, adjusting clothes.

You waste no time peeling the clothes off of you, pulling the T-shirt over your body as you exhale, and then pulling the old sweatpants over your body, tying them as tight as you could around your waist.

“Okay.” You said.

He quickly shook the thoughts away, clearing his throat. “You decent?” He asked, looking over at you.

“Yep.” You nod, shifting back on the bed some, “Oh,” you glance away, “you can change too, sorry.”

Dodge chuckled at your realization, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He pushed himself off the wall and walked over to the bed, sitting down next to you again.

“Don’t worry about it,” he reassured you, reaching down and grabbing the hem of his shirt. “I wasn’t planning on sleeping in this, anyways.”

He pulled the fabric over his head and tossed it onto the floor, revealing his bare chest.

He knows how badly this could’ve ended - but, he was already here, and honestly the lack of sleep was beginning to make him more bold than he’d like to admit.

Your eyebrows raise, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you met his gaze.

Dodge noticed your reaction, his smirk widening as he caught your laugh. He chuckled in response, his eyes locked on yours.

“What?” He asked, his voice playful. “Never seen a guy shirtless before?”

You shake your head, blinking back shock. “I have,” you note, trying to pretend as if your eyes weren’t raking over his body.

“Just.. wasn’t expecting this.”

Her close proximity was intoxicating, the scent of her perfume filling his senses and clouding his thoughts.

He leaned in slightly, his face inches away from yours. His gaze flicked from your eyes to lips, the desire to kiss you overwhelming any logical thoughts in his mind.

"Tell me," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "Tell me you want this. Tell me to, and I will. But I need to hear you say it."

He leaned in further, his lips hovering just above yours, the gap between them practically non-existent.

"I want this," you admitted, barely audible.

Without another word, he closed the minimal gap between them, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss.

His hands moved from your cheek to grip your hips, pulling you flush against him.

But it wasn't just about physical need, you could sense. There was a sense of desperation in the way he held you, as if this moment was more than just a passing lust.

As the kiss deepened, Dodge backed you up against the bed, gently maneuvering you until you were trapped between him and the mattress.

His hands moved under your shirt, tracing a path up your bare skin, causing you to shiver against him.

Dodge trailed hot kisses down your neck and collarbone, leaving a trail of burning desire in their wake. His hands roamed over your body, worshiping every inch of your bare skin.

His mouth returned to yours, claiming your lips in a passionate embrace. He rolled his hips against you, eliciting a gasp from your lips as the friction between your bodies intensified.

With a smooth movement, he pulled away from your lips and moved to your jawline, nipping and nibbling at the sensitive skin there.

“You have no idea,” he rasped, his voice low and ragged with desire, “how long I've wanted to do this.”

His hands moved from your hips to your thighs, gripping the flesh hard as he shifted between your legs.

Dodge took a few moments to admire the sight of you beneath him, your face flushed and lips swollen from his kisses. He couldn't get enough of you, the way you tasted, the way you felt beneath him.

He leaned down to capture your lips again, his hands roaming further up your thighs. His fingers toyed with the waistband of the sweatpants, the thought of going further crossing his mind.

Dodge broke the kiss, panting slightly as he looked down at you again.

“God,” he rasped, his gaze roaming over your flushed face and disheveled hair. “You’re so damn beautiful like this.”

He leaned back down, his breath hot against your ear. “I want you,” he whispered, his voice low and rough. “All of you. Right here. Right now.”

His lips moved to your neck, trailing hot kisses down your collarbone as his hands continued to wander over your body. His fingers dipped beneath the waistband of the sweatpants, tracing patterns against your skin.

“Okay,” You nod, “okay,” you repeat softer.

Dodge's breath hitches at your agreement, his fingers stilling. He pulls away just enough to look at you, his expression a mixture of surprise and relief.

"Yeah?" He asks, his voice slightly shaky. "You're sure?"

You nod, “I’m sure.”

Dodge's response is immediate, his mouth crashing back down onto yours in a passionate kiss. His hands move faster now, pushing down the sweatpants and discarding them onto the floor.

He positions himself back between your legs, his body pressing against yours as he kisses you hungrily. One of his thighs slides against you, causing you to gasp into the kiss.

Dodge takes advantage of your moment of surprise, his tongue slipping past your lips to explore your mouth. His hands roam over your bare thighs and hips, gripping the flesh tightly as he continues to move against you.

You can feel his hardness pressing against you, the evidence of his desire evident and urgent. He pulls away from the kiss, panting slightly, and looks down at you.

“God,” he mutters, his voice ragged and hoarse. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

He shifts his hips, pressing against you more purposefully. The friction between your bodies causes him to let out a guttural groan, his head dropping down to bury in your neck.

He peppers your neck with kisses, his lips and teeth leaving behind a trail of marks and bites. He continues to rock his hips against you, the friction growing more and more intense as the seconds pass.

His hands roam over your body, mapping out every dip and curve with fervor. He's almost feverish in his touch, his need for you overwhelming his rational thoughts.

"I need," he gasps, his breath warm against your skin, "I need..."

He doesn't finish his sentence, instead moving to capture your lips in another bruising kiss. His hands move to your hips, gripping them tightly as he increases the pace of his movements. The friction between your bodies is enough to send waves of pleasure through you, the feeling consuming your senses.

Dodge breaks the kiss, pulling back just enough to see your face. He takes in the sight of you, hair mussed, eyes glazed over with desire, cheeks flushed with color.

He looks wrecked himself, his breathing labored and his body taut with tension. Every muscle in his body is pulled taught, as if he's holding back from completely letting go.

His grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your skin. He's on the edge, you can tell. But he's still holding back, still trying to control himself.

"I want... I need..." he pants, his words coming out in shuddering gasps. "I need to hear you say it. Tell me I can... tell me you want..."

He trails off, unable to finish his sentence. He's desperate, his need for you almost palpable in the air.

He know’s he’s gotten your permission beforehand, but he needs to be sure.

“Please.” You whine.

Dodge exhales a ragged breath at your response, the sound almost a moan. He leans down, pressing his forehead against yours, his body trembling with need.

"Thank god," he gasps, his voice cracking slightly. "Thank god."

He captures your lips in a desperate kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth hungrily. His hands move from your hips to your thighs, spreading your legs further apart as he positions himself against you.

The friction between your bodies is maddening now, the pleasure building with every movement. Dodge bucks his hips against you, causing you both to moan into the kiss.

He breaks the kiss again, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "You feel so good," he whispers against your skin, his words sending shivers through your body. "So perfect, so goddamn perfect."

His hands roam over your body, touching and caressing every inch of exposed flesh. He's everywhere at once, his touch igniting sparks of pleasure that spread through your body like wildfire.

You almost whine out at the lack of contact to your body as his hands travel to his belt.

Dodge's hands fumble with his jeans, the frantic motion a clear indicator of how desperately he needs you. He pushes the material down, kicking them off the edge of the bed with a hasty movement.

He's bare now, his body exposed and vulnerable in a way he rarely lets himself be. He positions himself back between your legs, bracing himself above you.

He pauses for a moment, taking in the sight of you beneath him. You're flushed and trembling, your eyes glassy with desire. You can see his gaze flickering over your body, taking in every detail, every curve.

He leans down, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. His hands grip your hips again, holding you in place as he rolls his own into you.

The friction between your bodies is enough to drive you both insane. Dodge lets out a guttural moan into the kiss, his grip on your hips tight enough to bruise.

He swears he could come at the sight of this alone, and he honestly might.

A rapid knock to his door stirs him out of his frenzy.

Dodge grunts in surprise, pulled out of his passionate haze by the interruption. He looks up at you, his eyes still dark with desire but confused by the sudden intrusion.

"What?" he asks, his voice slightly hoarse as he called out to his sister in the hallway. "What's wrong?"

“I can’t reach the cereal above the fridge.”

He rolled his eyes, huffing as he pulled your — his, sweatpants over his body.

He raises a finger, as if telling you to wait, and you nod, but you were asleep by the time he finished helping Dana.

[glasvera]

smut & fluff with rivals!star lord x fem reader please,,,

Prepare to have your teeth rot <3

Hearts and Ribbons

Star-Lord x Fem!Reader

Description: Your boyfriend interrupts your beauty sleep to present you with a Valentine's gift... of himself!

Warnings/Disclaimers: SMUT (18+ only, Minors DNI!!!!), cursing, vaginal sex, cowgirl position, Star-Lord being canonically insufferable with his sense of humor, lots of fluff and comfort

A/N: I really let my cringe fly with this one. Star-Lord was actually stupid fun to write because of the joke potential. Also, I let the feels propel me forward, so this is barely proofread and I apologize.

Word Count: 2.9k

“Rise and shine, sweetheart!”

You groan sleepily, rubbing your eyes as the light to your sleeping quarters interrupts your slumber with its artificial yellow glare. With your brow furrowed, you narrowly blink one eye open to see who the perpetrator of this punishable offense was, and groan again when you see your boyfriend grinning ear to ear in your doorway.

“Peter,” you grumble, “what the hell? Why did you wake me up?” He winces at the irritation ringing clear as day in your voice. You wipe the sleep from your eyes as your vision begins to clear. “...and why are you in a bathrobe?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot!?” he exclaims as he stands at the side of your bed. You sit up to get a better look at him, your hair falling messily around your face. When you blink at him tiredly, giving him an unamused look, he sighs in defeat. “It’s Valentine’s Day! Well, back on Earth it is. I’ve been keeping track. Call me your calendar-ling.”

He’s too proud of that.

“Mmff… well we’re not on Earth, so…” you mutter in annoyance as you lie back down and tug the covers over your head. “...we can do Valentine’s in about 3 hours or so. Need my beauty sleep”

“Aww,” he whines, and it should be annoying, but there’s something adorable whenever he pouts like a little kid. “And to think, I got your present ready and everything!”

Your ears perk up at that. Material girl living in a material… universe, or something like that. He sees he’s piqued your interest and grins cheekily. His hand gives your comforter an experimental tug, just to see if you’ll let him, and you finally relent, rolling back over to face him.

“Okay, okay,” you sigh, giving him a slight smile as you start to sit yourself upright again. “What’d you get me?”

Tongue-in-cheek, his hand finds its way to the tie of his robe. The fuzzy fleece-like fabric zips with a whisper when he pulls it loose. It slips off of his shoulders and crumples to the ground in a puddle of cloth around his feet, leaving him entirely naked as he proudly places his hands on his hips and puffs out his chest. A red ribbon criss-crosses his body, wrapping around his waist, his pecs, outlining his thighs, until finally it all comes together in a perfectly tied ribbon around his half hard penis.

“Me!”

Of course seeing him wrapped up like a pretty present is enough to get you a little hot and bothered. But he had interrupted your sleep presumably for Valentine’s sex, so in turn you had to tease him. With your best poker face, you cross your arms and look unimpressed.

“Oh. I was hoping you made breakfast or something,” you tut.

He deflates immediately, his arms flopping down at his sides, and you almost feel bad. “Well, I… I mean I could go grab--!”

You interrupt him with an airy giggle and take his hand in yours, pulling him onto the bed with you. It’s not the most graceful thing, and he lands with a soft “oof” on top of you while half crushing your rib cage, but you quickly pull him into your embrace. Your arms wrap around his neck while his find their place at your waist, though he does still look a bit befuddled by your sudden change in attitude.

“I’m kidding. Well, mostly,” you snicker before kissing the tip of his nose, loving the way it crinkles. “I am a bit hungry…” you add teasingly. The pad of your index finger trails along his jawline, tilting his chin up to press your lips softly against his. “...and you seem to have wrapped up a perfect snack just for me.”

His eyes darken slightly at the seductive purr of your voice, and he props himself up on his elbows to hover over you. “Oh, I’m a whole Happy Meal, babe.”

“You are the worst,” you respond with a giggly snort, but you contain any further laughter as you press that same finger to his chest, trailing along the line of the ribbon he’s wound himself in. Your touches travel lower, fingertips grazing along the soft silk almost ticklishly. While your eyes follow your hand, his are locked onto your face, watching your expression with rapt attention and studying the details of your face. He could probably draw it by memory if he were any good at that sort of thing, but he could never grow tired of looking at you. Feeling his gaze burn into your very soul, your eyes flicker back up to his.

“I’ll be anything as long as I still get to look at this gorgeous face,” he breathes. It’s so genuine that your face heats up immediately and your expression softens as your heart clenches in your chest. He could say a thousand pick-up lines, a million terrible jokes, make you groan and roll your eyes a billion times, but he could never stop you from loving him. Hell, you loved him because of that, and so much more, not in spite of it. Your palm rests against his cheek, and he leans into it happily. 

“I’m sure you say that to all the girls,” you tease, the mirthful lilt in your voice ensuring he knows you’re kidding.

“Said,” he corrects you with a cheeky smile as his fingers card soothingly through your hair. “Now those words are all yours.”

“Sweettalker,” you hum as you toy with the neatly tied bow between his legs.

He gives you a throaty chuckle. “You know you love it.”

You hum your agreement before your hand wraps around his cock, the heat of your palm drawing a hiss from his lips as you begin stroking him languidly. He kisses you hungrily then, nipping and tugging at your bottom lip before his tongue is dancing with yours. Bracing himself on one elbow, his other hand grips your hip before sliding up beneath your nightshirt, groaning into your mouth when he cups your breast.

With every flick of your thumb over the tip he’s bucking into your hand, precum dribbling forth as you collect it on your fingertips and smear it over his length. He’s so hard, so ready and needy for you, and it makes your mouth water in anticipation. His lips leave yours, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, and you tilt your head to the side to give him better access as he leaves heated kisses along the column of your throat.

“Peter,” you breathe reverently, exhaling a blissful sigh when his fingertips roll your nipple between them.

You can feel him smiling against your neck. “‘Could listen to that all day,” he muses aloud before he continues sucking a dark spot into your skin.

“Mm… maybe I could record my own mixtape for you then,” you chortle as your hand quickens. “Let you listen to my moans, the sounds of you fucking me…”

A broken moan staggers from his throat as he bites down onto your neck and you gasp softly. Well, now you have his birthday gift planned, at least.

The wet heat of his tongue laves up your neck, soothing the reddening mark and indent of his teeth. “I think I prefer the live show more.”

“Then why don’t you give me a show, lover boy?” you taunt as you guide the tip of his cock to drag up and down the dampening fabric of your underwear. You bite your lip and suppress the soft moan in the back of your throat when he brushes against your clothed clit.

He shakes his head, his blonde hair tickling your face as he suddenly sits back. Now it’s your turn to let out a dissatisfied whine, and he takes way too much pride in the way you pout up at him. You’re a complete mess, with bruised lips, hickeys lining one side of your neck, and your shirt pushed all the way up your chest to expose your breasts. No, he has something else in mind entirely.

“You’re the star, babe. And Star-Lord deserves VIP treatment, don’t you think?” He takes himself in hand then, swatting yours away as he taps his cock against your inner thigh. “I wanna watch you ride me,” he says huskily as his eyes meet yours. There’s so much want, so much raw desire in his gaze, that it makes your heart pound in your chest. You need him so badly that denying such a request or even making fun of such a cheesy use of his hero name never crosses your mind.

You scoot over wordlessly, and he grins wickedly before flopping onto his back. It was an undeniably tantalizing view, seeing him wrapped head to toe in that shiny red ribbon. You shimmy out of your panties before throwing your leg over his hip to straddle him. His hands find your waist again before sliding up, cupping your breasts as you make a show of removing your shirt and your hips rock against his. He could feel just how wet you were when his dick slides along your slickened slit, and it drives him crazy. When your hands rest atop his, guiding him as his fingers squeeze into the plush of your tits, he lets out a shuddery groan.

“Like this, Star-Lord?” you ask with mock, saccharine sweetness. He bucks up into your heat. Oh, how he loved when you used his moniker in the bedroom.

“Fuck, yes, baby. You’re so sexy,” he rambles, moaning when your grinding makes the tip of his cock nearly slip into your sex. You line him up properly then, easing down onto his length almost too easily, and he grips your thigh possessively as his head falls back against the pillow. You take him to the hilt and he snaps back up, watching where the two of you meet as you immediately begin bouncing up and down with breathy moans. “That’s it. Give me a show.”

Your eyes squeeze shut and your brows knit together while your lips part with your soft “oh”s and “ah”s. His hand falls from your breast so he can admire the way your tits bounce with your movements. The sensation of a loose silk knot nudging your clit every time you come down is strange but not unpleasant. Peter sees you looking down at it and chuckles.

“Look at you. So needy that you can’t even properly unwrap your toys before you play with them,” he teases before pressing his palm flat against your stomach and finding your bud with the pad of his thumb. The added sensation leaves your thighs quivering around him, and you bite down softly on your finger to muffle the keening sound in your throat. You want to tease him back, to point out how he’s calling himself your toy, but he doesn’t give you the chance. Instead he lifts his hips up just a bit, nearly setting you off balance as you gasp and lean back to brace your hands on his knees, and he thrusts up into you at an angle that has you seeing stars.

“Oh, fuck!” you curse, barely remembering to bounce back against him as he pounds up into you. He knew your body too well, knew every spot, every way to touch you to turn you to putty in his hands. Your eyes are too busy rolling back into your head to see the way he smiles devilishly up at you. Watching you come undone because of him was intoxicating, and he was absolutely drunk on you.

“That’s it, Y/N, keep singing for me like that,” he praises you, swiping feverish circles into your clit in time with his thrusts. “Let the whole ship know who’s girl you are.”

That idea shouldn’t turn you on, and in your right mind that would be the last thing you would want to think about, but the thought of it now has your walls clenching around him and milking him for all he’s worth. Pressure coils low in your stomach, winding tighter and tighter with every nudge of his cock head against your g-spot and every flick of his thumb on your pearl. Your moans turn into begging and praising.

“Yes, yes, Star-Lord, yes!” you babble between pleasured sighs. If you keep that up, there’s no way he’ll be able to last much longer. He pulls you down, earning a surprised yelp that he muffles with a searing kiss. He doesn’t relent, pistoning in and out of you as your moans grow higher and higher in pitch. With a tilt of his head the kiss deepens, and your mind goes hazy with desire while your tongues engage in another messy battle that leaves your head spinning. It’s all too much and finally the coil snaps, and you orgasm deliciously while your cries are swallowed by his kisses. He can’t hold back anymore, wrapping his arm around your waist and holding you down before going into an absolute frenzy. His cock hammers into your sensitive walls and he buries his face in your chest, moaning and groaning as you cry out from the overwhelming sensations. 

Your name leaves his lips over and over, uttering it like a prayer before he lets out a guttural cry, stilling and spilling himself into you.

The two of you slump against each other on the bed, panting as the afterglow washes over you. Resting your head on his chest, you roll your neck so that your cheek is smushed against his shoulder. In your post orgasmic bliss, your eyes gaze up at him lovingly, and a dopey smile spreads across your face. Peter looks down at you and smirks, bringing a hand up to brush through your now even messier hair.

“You know I love you, right? For… for you, I mean,” you murmur as you stare into each other’s eyes.

He gives you a quizzical look. “I… what do you mean?”

Your hand rests on his chest, and you draw lazy circles into his skin with your fingertip. “That I don’t need you to be Star-Lord. That I fell in love with Peter Quill, the man, and not Star-Lord, Guardian of the Galaxy.”

His eyes widen for just a moment before they narrow and soften. Arms wrap around you tightly then, squeezing you into a hug that nearly relieves your lungs of all their air.

“I… I know,” he responds, nuzzling his nose into your hair and breathing in the scent of your shampoo. “Even if it’s still hard to believe sometimes.”

It’s rare that he lets himself be insecure around anyone. You do your best to return his hug, draping your arms around his shoulders and pressing soft kisses to whatever skin you could reach. Taking the moment to savor each other, intimately enjoying one another’s embrace, you allow your eyes to wander about your room and… wait, hold on… when did…?

Strings of paper hearts, seemingly cut out by hand, zigzag and drape from the ceiling all around. A box of chocolates rests on your nightstand next to a vase of gorgeous flowers.

“Did you…?” you start, lifting your head to get a better look around you.

Peter’s laugh rumbles in his chest. “Finally noticed?”

“I-I…” you stutter, embarrassed at the realization that you had been entirely oblivious to the rest of his preparations until now.

“Figured you’d just wanna skip to the main course, so I didn’t say anything,” he teases with a wink. He reaches over, divesting the box of its lid before procuring a chocolate and offering it to your lips. You playfully roll your eyes at him before opening your mouth, taking the morsel gently between your teeth. It’s good. You haven’t had chocolate like this in a while. Your eyes close and you hum in satisfaction, and your reaction brings an ecstatic grin to his face.

“I’m glad you kept track,” you admit, “of Valentine’s, I mean, but… why?”

He takes a deep breath before answering. “We… we’re in space all the time. Dealing with, you know, other planets and types of people. Different rotations, different calendars, different days. It gets hard to keep track of time passing or even when it’s supposed to be day or night. But since you and I are both from Earth, it… I guess it feels important. To remember, I mean. It grounds me, even all the way out here in space.”

You smile fondly at him and lean up to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “That’s surprisingly poetic of you, Peter.”

He snorts, giving you a playful flick on the head. “I’ll have you know that many people have told me I have an excellent way with words.”

“Imaginary friends don’t count, you know.”

“Hey!” he exclaims as you fall into a fit of giggles. It’s impossible for him to stay mad when you look so perfect, so sweet, so comfortable and at home in his arms. The back of his fingers brush along your cheekbone, and your giggles gently fade into bare titters as you continue to flash him a toothy grin.

“I love you,” he breathes out.

Your heart flutters no matter how many times he says that, and you lean into his touch. “I love you too, Peter. Happy Valentine’s day.”

[taevescence]

yoongi fucking his girlfriend raw for the first time and her telling him to cum inside because she wants his babies

First time

a/n: as the request did not have many specifications I went straight to the point, hope you don't mind 😣. warnings: Breeding kink, a little bit soft, in fact there are not many warnings, it is quite soft. wc: 1.1k taglist: @thunderg @minjianhyung @queenv1997 @yoongtism @lizzymizzy-blogg @zent9 @superbbananananana

"Shit" you moaned, squirming on your sheets as you felt Yoongi's fingers touch the exact spot that made the knot in your belly get tighter and tighter, although, come to think of it, it could also be due to Yoongi's tongue teasing your clit.

"I haven't done this in a long time" he whispered, straightening up as he pulled his fingers from inside you and licked them. During all that time he didn't take his eyes off you and your body. "Do you think you're lubed up enough to get my cock in?".

"Yes" you sighed, resting a hand on your chest in an attempt to calm your heartbeat. It wasn't very helpful, but at least you tried. You turned your head toward your nightstand, reaching your shaking arm toward the drawer to pull out a condom. You frowned as you felt Yoongi's hand stop you quickly, "What's wrong?" you turned to look at him, returning your arm to its place.

"It's just..." he scratched the back of his neck, grimacing with his mouth. His cheeks were barely tinged with a pastel pink color you'd seen once or twice when he felt too embarrassed, "could we, you know, do it without a condom? Only if you want to" he hastened to clarify, avoiding looking you in the eye.

"It's okay" you cupped his cheeks, caressing them gently, "we've been together for years, and I doubt that with one time anything will happen" you smiled at him as reassuringly as you could, hoping you could convey that feeling to him.

"God, I love you so much," he settled between your legs, moving down until he was face to face with you, "I don't think you can imagine how much I do," he kissed your jaw, leaving a trail of kisses running all the way from where he started to your bra.

"Then show me how much you love me" you whispered in his ear, hugging his neck and pulling him even closer to you. You shivered slightly as you felt his breath collide against your chest.

"Oh believe me, I will" he laughed softly, gently pushing the tip of his cock inside you. You both moaned before the skin to skin contact. It was your first time doing this, and although it felt strange, it was a sensation you definitely wouldn't regret feeling. "How is it possible that after all these years you're still so tight?" he growled over your collarbones, leaving a mark right in the center.

"Don't ask, just enjoy it" You tried to laugh, but were quickly interrupted by a lunge from Yoongi.

If there was one thing that characterized Yoongi in sex, it was that he would never start soft and gentle. He liked to go straight to his climax point, feel as much as possible in the shortest time and repeat it over and over again until he was satisfied. That was your Yoongi.

"Feels good" he murmured against your skin, pounding your pussy hard. A shit-eating grin appeared on his face as he heard you moan loudly the moment the tip of his cock hit your G-spot. He loved how you reacted every time he found that sensitive spot.

"Fuck" you brought your hands to his hair, pulling on it to keep yourself grounded. You let your head fall back, giving Yoongi the opportunity to lick, bite and mark your neck as he pleased. 

Yoongi moaned as he felt your walls clench around him tightly, clinging to your hips as if his life depended on it. It would probably leave marks, but he didn't care right now, neither you nor him.

"I love the feel of you squeezing my cock," he said as he closed his eyes and concentrated on increasing the speed of your onslaught. His hand gently caressed the marks he had left on your neck, causing a soft sigh to escape your lips.

"More" you moaned, moving your hands down from his hair to his shoulders, burying your deep red nails into his skin. 

"More?" he teased back, taking one of your legs and pulling it up his shoulder. You moaned loudly as you felt his cock go even deeper than it was before. "Shit, Y/N, you're so sensitive" he laughed, moving his hand down to your womanhood to take your clit between his fingers and play with it as he pleased.

You hunched your back to him, closing your eyes tightly. The knot in your stomach was becoming more and more unbearable and you weren't sure how much longer you could continue. "Yoonie" you whimpered between moans, looking up at him with misty eyes and dilated pupils.

"It's okay, it's okay, I've got you" he bent down a little, just enough to kiss your cheek, "do it as soon as you're ready."

You nodded awkwardly, starting to move your hips against his so you could get your long desired release. The moment you came your whole body trembled from the spasms, and you almost melted as you felt Yoongi embrace you as carefully as possible with the intention of regulating your body's movement. 

"That's it, fuck, you're squeezing me so good" Yoongi closed his eyes, concentrating on how good your tight, wet pussy felt. He was so immersed in the sensation that he almost forgot he wasn't wearing a condom. "Shit" he whispered, trying to get out of your pussy as quickly as possible. He moaned in surprise as he felt you imprison his hips with your legs. You still looked a little tired from your recent orgasm, but apparently you were determined not to let it out. "Honey, I'm going to come soon, I need-".

"Cum inside" you whispered, moving your hips against his, "I want you to come inside, I want to have your baby."

And that broke Yoongi for a few seconds. Only for a few seconds, because almost instantly he reacted and brought his mouth to yours in search of a desperate kiss. You gasped as you felt Yoongi's thrusts get deeper and stronger, and only moments later, you felt his cum spill inside you as you swallowed your boyfriend's moans with the kiss.

You both fell silent after finishing. You kept your eyes closed and your hand in his hair, he, for his part, had his head resting on your chest, caressing your waist with his fingertips. "Y/N?"

"Yes?" you whispered, giving a yawn. Fucking Yoongi always wore you out, even though he was the one doing most of it.

"We're going to need a lot more cum if you want a baby, you know that?" he chuckled above your ear, moving his hand down to your center, caressing your sensitive area.

You whimpered as you felt his intentions bump against your inner thigh, "We just finished."

"The night is still long" he nodded, kissing you passionately as he straightened back up on top of you.

He definitely wasn't going to let you sleep tonight.

Materlist.

[thef1diary]

Dirtbag!Daniel overstimulating you just because he heard you say he can’t make a woman cum

— hurting a man’s ego? Eh. Hurting dirtbag!danny’s ego? yeah… you’re in for a wild ride. 18+ content below

You didn’t even see it coming. One offhand comment, said half-jokingly to a friend while Daniel was within earshot, and now here you were—spread out on his bed, thighs trembling, body utterly wrecked as he hovered over you with a smug, infuriating grin.

“You said what now?” he taunted, dragging two fingers lazily through your soaked folds before pressing them back inside you, curling just right to make you gasp. “Can’t make a woman cum? Baby, you’ve lost count.”

“Danny—oh, God—” Your protest turned into a breathless moan as his thumb found your clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles. He kept his eyes locked on yours, the heat in his gaze making your stomach twist deliciously.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” he asked mockingly, leaning in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “Can’t even keep still, can you? And you had the nerve to run your mouth. That’s, what… four now? Five?”

You whimpered, your head falling back against the pillows, fingers clutching at the sheets. Your body was hypersensitive, every touch unbearable yet addicting. He didn’t stop—not when your thighs tried to close around his hand, not when tears spilled down your cheeks.

He worked you over with ruthless efficiency, each stroke of his fingers pushing you closer to the edge. The sound of your wetness filled the room, obscene and utterly mortifying, but the way he looked at you—so smug, so sure of himself—only made it worse.

“Come on, baby,” he murmured, his breath ghosted over your neck. “Let me hear it. Let me hear you beg.”

You whimpered, your body trembling as his movements sped up. “Danny, please—”

“You want to cum?” he taunted, biting down on your shoulder just hard enough to leave a mark. “Say it. Say you need me to make you cum.”

“I need you,” you gasped, your head falling back as your walls clenched around his fingers. “Danny, I need you to make me cum.”

“There we go, that’s my good girl,” he murmured, voice dripping with mock praise as he kissed along your jawline. “So pretty when you’re a mess. Bet your friend would love to see you like this,” he added, his voice dripping with arrogance. “Soaked and shaking, crying my name. Think she’d still believe you after this?”

You could barely form words, your nails digging into his shoulders as your sixth orgasm barreled through you.

“Fuck, pleasepleaseplease—”

“Please what? Don’t stop?”

Before you could catch your breath, he was sliding his cock inside you, thrusting deep, his pace instantly becoming relentless. Your back arched as the overstimulation hit its peak, your nails dragging down his back. “I don’t plan on stopping, sweetheart.”

“Daniel, I can’t—”

“Oh, you can,” he interrupted, his teeth grazing your jaw as he pounded into you. “And you will. You’re gonna cum for me again, and you’re gonna thank me for proving you wrong.”

Your body immediately gave in to his relentless pace, your vision going white as your orgasm ripped through you. He stilled for a moment, his cock buried deep inside you, before pulling out at the last second. He wrapped his hand around himself, stroking lazily as his cum splattered across your skin. “Look at you, all wrecked and trembling. Next time you want to talk shit, remember this.”

You could barely move, your body boneless and spent, but his smugness didn’t waver. He reached for his pants, pulling out his phone and snapping a quick picture of your ruined, flushed form.

“Proof,” he said with a wink, before tucking it away.

want more dirtbag!danny? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

[regardtheinnocent]

Ororon x male reader who is delighted with his little ears and wings?? This emo boy is too cute, and what if reader abuses his cute features during sex.I am sure that he will blush a lot from such attention! I love him too much. 😔

Contains: Dom!GN!Reader, Sub!Ororon, Lots of position changing 😅, Teasing (character receiving), Penetration (character receiving), reader has a cock/strap on, Ororon being a cutie pie, safeword exists but isn't referenced *note: I love him too, I fear that I'm a sucker for emo & bat characters haha.

Your hands drift to fondle Ororon's soft ears as they often do. You gently press your thumb, pointer and middle fingers together and begin rubbing them, finding it amusing that the poor farmer instantly quieted down.

"These ears of your's are sooo soft, love. I could pet them all day." You hum to him, choosing to ignore the current predicament that you were both in.

What was said predicament?

Well, you were buried deep in the poor thing, much too deep— he might add. You had him all sprawled out on your bed, his marked up and shaking thighs thrown over your shoulders.

Ororon swore his eyes rolled back slightly when you leaned forward to get a better angle to touch his ears. The sudden shift in movement made you press so much deeper, your tip felt like it was bullying his prostate at this point.

A weak squeal left the man's lips he tried his very best to shy away from your touch.

Not that you let him, of course.

No, you just had to move one of your hands down to his waist and hold him still. Fuck, Ororon was seeing stars.

"Mm.. God, pl—please [Name], you don't need to touch— Ah! them.." The farmer slurred back as he tried to keep his eyes open as best he could.

"Too deep— hngh ugh.." Ororon whined as you moved yet again. It was cute that the little bat was acting so shy all of a sudden.

Though, Ororon's wings flapped uselessly at his sides, prompting you to move your hand from his waist to hold onto one of them.

Gently, naturally. You didn't want to hurt him, after all.

"Its so hard not to though, sweetheart. And these wings that are fluttering around are just too tempting.." You reply as a slight smirk adorns your lips.

Ororon just shakes his head as he attempts at keeping his embarrassingly needy moans at bay. Which he fails at.

Then, you begin to move your hips again. You pull out halfway before pushing back in, watching as your baby goes cross eyed in an instant.

"You've been too chatty, angel. I must not be doing my job good enough, hmm?" You tease as Ororon manages to weakly kick at your back with his heels.

It was involuntary, really. He was just too stimulated and didn't know what to do.

When you left his ears alone for a moment, the farmer breathed a sigh of relief— only for said breath to turn into a squeal when you take his legs in your hands and fold him in half.

Though, once you've got him bent nicely, you only bother to use a single hand to hold both of his calves together.

You were doing an amazing job at bullying the poor thing with your body, watching him fall apart as you grabbed one of his wings.

"Nooo— Hnghh- ah! S'too muchh..." Ororon slurs out in a whiny voice as his mind melted more and more.

You gave his bat wing a gentle tug in response. You, of course, make sure not to be too rough when doing so.

Though, it was rough enough for the farmer to arch his back as cum shot out of his cock without warning. He let out his loudest squeal yet, which was really quite embarrassing in pitch.

Oh... his face is so pretty when he comes. It always is.

You paused for a moment, before a nice smile spread across your face. You weren't done with Ororon yet, not when you'd just made him finish from a wing tug. Oh no no no.

Instead, you flip him on his tummy for easier access to his pretty wings.

"Whu— [Name]-! I just caAAH—" You interrupt your darling mid sentence by promptly gripping both of his wings by the base and using them for leverage to fuck back into his hole.

All poor Ororon can do is claw and grab at the pillows and sheets in a desperate but vain attempt to ground himself.

You snap your hips forward over and over again as you feel your lover tighten around you. Its like he wants to keep you inside, how adorable.

Ororon can feel the burn of overstimulation settling in quite quickly, after all you're fucking him like an animal.

Though, he can only sob into the pillows as he feels the coil in his tummy tighten again, getting ready to snap again.

"Ple— Please!" Ororon all but begs as his cock rubs against the sheets, giving him more feelings that he can't handle.

"You can cum again, can't you, baby? Yeah.. you can do it." You coo back in a jarringly soothing voice, one that made the poor thing want to relax despite everything.

So he simply nods into the pillows as you continue plowing him from behind, and eventually, he shoots another load right against the previously soiled sheets.

"Goodd boy..." You groan as you tug on his wings, getting him to let out a few more spirts of cum before finally letting him rest.

You pull out slowly and your hands switch to tenderly rubbing over the bases of the farmer's wings, easing the soreness that would likely form in the coming hours.

"You did so good for me." You murmur and Ororon responds with a weak purr.

[remotewatch]

handprints, footprints all on my glass

Jack Schlossberg x reader | 1.6k wc

minors dni please and thanks, this is hag business

summary: it’s a short ride from the afterparty to the airport, theoretically

cw: shameless smut, she comes first 💪, dry humping, dom reader sorta, pathetic simp Jack enjoyers make some noise!!!, oral (f receiving), fingering, we’re degrading him a bit whoops, accidental vabbing (?????) girl idk, reader wears the pants not the panties, they’re in one of those Mercedes vans, wear your seatbelts everywhere but here

The jet lag was undoubtedly winning. As luck would have it, the busiest weeks of the year for you and Jack overlapped nearly entirely. It had been nonstop flights, engagements, meetings, press releases, dinner parties, galas, openings of buildings for charities for either dogs or orphans, orphaned dogs maybe, for so long you’d entirely lost track and were ever thankful that most of your speaking assignments were behind you. This last afterparty had fried you both; you didn’t have a single networking conversation left in you. Collapsed opposite you in the jump seat, Jack looked just as spent as you felt.

Of course, he still looked too good. It was fucking sweltering in that venue, and he had loosened his evergreen evening tie and slightly unbuttoned his dress shirt the very second you were shielded by the limo tint. Faint wisps of chest hair peered out from the opening, a fresh tan making his teeth look even whiter. Gun to your head, he’d had his pants taken in too much at the hips, but you’d never say anything that would threaten such a view.

There wasn’t time for that; you were in the home stretch of this hell month and had a packed 16 hour day tomorrow. One last email once over, and you could abandon your work iPad and pass out for the flight back to New York.

“Have you been like that all night?” he asks tentatively.

“Like what?” There’s no immediate response, so you look up from checking tomorrow’s agenda to see Jack shamelessly staring up your cocktail dress at your lack of underwear. The spell breaks when you recross your legs and playfully kick his shin.

“Eyes up here. So what if I was?”

Jack blinks dumbly at you and clears his throat. His eyebrows draw together out of confusion.

“But I saw you get dressed this morning. Where’s that pair I just bought you?”

“They’re wrapped in your pocket square. Did you forget to switch it out for a dry one before lunch?” you ask, holding back a shit-eating grin.

It’s hard to deny the rush you get watching Jack go pale and fish the handkerchief out of the breast pocket of his discarded suit jacket, still sticky from cleaning you up a few hours ago. Sure enough, there’s a crumpled La Perla thong cradled in the middle. You interrupt his stuttering protests when you kick your pumps off and slide a foot up his leg.

“Oh please, like you don’t love walking around smelling like me.”

“I do,” his ears are turning red. “but I hugged like twenty people today!”

“Page six has been trying to pin down that musky “cologne” you use for ages. I think you’re safe.” You briefly wonder if you’re leaking onto the leather seats, but that train of thought is halted by Jack’s hand reaching to remove his tie.

“Keep it on.”

He snaps to attention at the direct order.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I like my handle.”

“Do you come with an off switch?”

Break lights flash on in the surrounding lanes. Just your luck; it’s complete gridlock in the few miles between here and the airpark. Maybe there was a little time.

Your foot slides higher, and Jack hisses through his teeth at the contact.

“Why don’t you try and find it?”

There’s barely a millisecond of hesitation before he falls onto you, licking stripes of sweat off your skin from your cleavage to your cheekbones. As always, he’s loud in the way that only a guy who never gets told to shut the fuck up can be: every breath shudders its way out, and he’s basically whimpering into your mouth by the time he gets there, louder when his right hand finds you, in fact, dripping all over the seat. You doubt you’ll ever get used to how thick his fingers are, or the vulgar noises they make when he’s showing off his grip strength knocking on your g spot.

He’d rolled his shirt sleeves up for the afterparty, but his watch was still squarely in the splash zone, and for the briefest of moments you wonder if it’s as waterproof as the cheaper ones he wears surfing. The thought is quickly pushed aside as Jack works you until you’re jolting off the seat trying to get his fingers deeper.

One good yank on his hair gets him off your neck, and he’s so dazed and fucked out already that you almost cum right there.

“Someone looks hungry,” you tease.

“Fuck, please let me-“ He’s cut off by the van suddenly lurching forward and throwing you both off balance, leaving only your vice grip on his tie keeping him in place. There’s a filthy squelch when he pulls his fingers out to suck them clean as he sinks down to his knees. It’s so warm that your dress is sticking to your thighs, and he rapidly loses patience trying to slide it up to your waist.

“This is a rental!” you squeal when the fabric rips, spraying sequins all over the floor. Jack doesn’t even flinch and wraps his lips snugly around your clit.

“Whatever, I’ll buy it,” he mumbles without breaking contact. You find yourself sliding down the sweat slick leather to grind against his face, and he has the nerve to lean back to watch your hips buck desperately.

“I love when you chase it,” he grins. Without missing a beat, you lock your legs around his head and shut him up against you.

“Don’t fucking tease me. I’m not the one humping the floor like a dog.” The mumbly, docile “sorry” that vibrates through you is the hottest thing he’s said all day. And he really is, if his overly enthusiastic slurping indicates anything. Those rapid, precise little strokes of his tongue always froth you up like he’s got a mouthful of soap. By the time you get tired of spelling your name on his nose and shove him to the floor to straddle his face, he’s completely lathered in you.

He lets out a little bleat of surprise when you roughly grab his hair and start manhandling him as if he’s a wet wipe, though he really should expect it by now. Normally, you’d be distractingly aware of the very real possibility the driver can hear the way you’re snarling his name, but time is not on your side right now. The last break lights recede, leaving the compartment only lit by dim blue under-seat bulbs. Your movements grow more frenzied; you’re totally disregarding Jack’s lung capacity and not even aiming for his mouth anymore, just using his whole face like it’s all he’s made for. Right as you begin to worry you have nothing left in the tank due to the lunch commute, a muffled, drawn-out “please” from beneath you sends you tumbling right over the edge. Your orgasm hits you more like a tranquilizer than anything else as the last dregs of your energy drench his face.

As soon as he feels your contractions lessen, he’s tossing you off to sit on his thighs and fumbling with his belt buckle. The van makes a hard right turn onto the final road to the airpark, and Jack lets out a frustrated groan knowing the clock is ticking. Still, he knows not to get in your way when you shove his hands away and slide right back on top of his dick, so hard you can feel the heat radiating through the fabric. You know you’re fucking up his dress pants grinding on him like this, but if nothing else, the linen will dry fast.

“I’m sleeping on the plane whether you finish or not, so make it work.” He doesn’t have enough time to be pissed at you, and he knows it. The sight of him so desperately rutting up against you is nearly enough to get you there all over again. All the tendons in his neck stand out as he presses his lips together trying to focus. His legs splay frantically in an attempt to ground himself, one jet black Oxford wedging under the jump seat and the other pressed flat against the far window. Jack’s head tips back and his eyes screw up in concentration, but you can’t have that, no matter how tasty his Adam’s apple looks. You loop his tie around your hand one more time and yank him back to earth,

“Uh-uh. Look at me when I’m making you cum.” That’ll do it. His expression softens then freezes as his eyes unfocus and his mouth falls open. He sounds downright melodic when he cums, just one long note that gets bounced up and down the scale before trailing off to a whine, and you relish every little twitch of him spilling into his pants, so far from you but certainly close enough.

The van rolls to a stop, and suddenly it’s a fumbling nightmare of you both trying to fish your shoes out from under the seats and smooth each others hair. You snatch Jack’s blazer to cover the rip in your dress, shove the iPad and pocket square-thong mess into your work bag, and throw the door open with what you hope is a believable amount of nobody-get-between-me-and-my-lie-flat-seat urgency.

Wobbly legs insist you grab his hand to step out of the van, and, of course, there’s a fucking pap pressed to the tarmac fence. Jack’s reflexes don’t stand a chance at turning him away in time after what you’ve put him through. When the flash catches his face, you can only look horrified as it perfectly captures the shine you’ve left on him.

Gossipy headlines and vague, tasteful PR statement drafts are already zipping through your head. Add it to the agenda: 16.5 hour day incoming.

[taiyouhimerich]

Odysseus first encounter with his future wife🩷

cr by: taiyouhime

tw: just pretty fluff, and only my hcs of this young sweet tooth nightmare (bcz hes so sweet i cant)

YoungKing!Odysseus who has really hard time after he inherited his throne while being very young and obviously so inexperienced in terms of ruling Ithaca even though his father prepared him for this and Athena was still helping him a lot with some of her advice.

YoungKing!Odysseus who keeps being told by all of the councillor that he has to find a proper girl to marry and the future queen of his to rule, and he’s really nervous about it because he’s told every young king in Greece are wooing Helen of Sparta so he’s now full spread ahead to Tyndareus’ kingdom.

YoungKing!Odysseus who has spent several hours at the most boooooring dinner surrounded by all the kings from all over Greece, and he turns out to be the youngest of them all! Like he’s only seventeen and everyone else are at their early twenties at least! And even though he proves himself as mature enough to participate, as great hunter and as cunning dealer, they still call him small and keep dangling his age in front of him!

YoungKing!Odysseus who stomps over the paths through the garden of Tyndareus’ palace into its depths, fuming about another discussion where his, his great and clever words are followed by complementing his intelligence and then goes some “not so bad for youngster” kind of stuff. King of Sparta is not even looking at him while the discussion is about what should be the way of choosing who gets Helen’s hand in marriage, isn’t he worth enough of at least being spoken to only because of his age? He’s the king, he’s a good athlete, he’s intelligent, he’s mature, he’s not worse than any of the other kings, he’s—!

The soft laughter in a distance interrupts his thoughts.

YoungKing!Odysseus who follows the source of this sound just from… curiosity maybe or wanting to leave this nasty feeling behind. He gets to the edge of the garden, reaching a beautiful olive grove. And he sees her, a girl, a very beautiful girl, with her hair done prettily that have wind playing with her locks, surrounded by a group of maids, considering their simple dresses. And then she looks around and meets his eyes and—

Okay. Maybe he’s not mature. Like not at all, because he can tell his face is blushing and his knees are trembling and he feels so little right now because she waves at him with this pretty smile and his heart is beating harder then after training Athena gives him and, and—

He can’t remember what was in between this and him standing in his room at palace of Sparta. YoungKing!Odysseus feels so stupid and weak while he keeps banging his head against his door because heaven strike him he just ran away! He just saw the prettiest girl in his life smiling at him and it was enough to make him flee like a coward!

He used to make fun of Eurylochus’ feelings for his sister, finding it absolutely silly how a strong, hard, bulky warrior can fall in love with a princess at one sight, but now, now YoungKing!Odysseus is sorry for all those words and wants to take all of them back because otherwise he is now blushing like a maiden caught bathing just over some kind of pretty girl who just hardly looked at him once as well….

YoungKing!Odysseus, who gets to embarrass himself even more when she and her father Icarius are attending the next dinner with other kings almost accidentally, and she recognises him and she waves at him again and he can swear she’s giggling and he just wants to run away again and—

But then she leans to Tyndareus to kiss his cheek and says goodbye to her dear uncle, and this is how it hits YoungKing!Odysseus. That she’s a princess and she’s suitable for the councillors of Ithaca to accept her as their future queen and most of all.

He now knows he wants to marry only her.

i gonna make several parts of this im still giggling hehehhee

[screechingdefendorpuppy-blog]

My Dearest Sevika..

some more of my Hcs for Marine!Sevika and wife reader. added these as reblogs but wanted to post as their own so more people could find it and enjoy.

Bonus cuz I keeping day dreaming

• she send you a polaroid where she is wearing her new scarf along with her uniform.

• once you witness a police raid at your neighbors house and you wrote her about it. She devours that entry to the journal imagining how you would tell her. Giving it more of a dramatic flare spilling some of your chai.

• you send her a recent photo of you and buck (your dog). She keeps it on her at all times right along with the very first photo you sent her when yall started dating. Its a lil faded but she cant get herself to part with it.

• her squad always tease her when she gets her care package. All in good fun! However they will give her space so she can enjoy reading the journal.

•she always shares the baked goods with them. And some gossip that you tell her about.

•your journal entries have made the distance between you bearable. Unbeknownst to you, your entries not only keeps her moral high but the whole squads as well.

And the angst starts now!

• you are currently writing an entry in your journal to sevika telling her about daily life, Your class shenanigans and your new next door neighbors and their mute daughter.

•how you babysit her while they have their weekly date night and she is teaching you sign to be able to communicate better

•You are so into writing you dont notice the car that park in the curb. Or the two soldiers that step out of it.

• suddenly the sunlight is interrupted by a shadow making you look up and come face to face with…Ran

• you first notice the sling on her arm and the scratches on her face. Shes in uniform and…. You breath stops, your pulse takes over your senses

•Rans lips move but its doesnt make any sense.. convoy…extraction….ambush… Sevika.

•Its a good thing you were already sitting cuz you are sure that your legs would’ve given out.

• Captain Sevika has been declared KIA.

(Small Time skip)

• you feel empty, just like the casket that was buried two months ago.

• the journal has since stayed untouched.

•two months of tears, of pain from an invisible wound. Two months of trying to sleep in a bed that feels way to big and cold. A house to big and cold.

•your neighbors jinx and ekko keep an eye on you daily. Coming over with isha for family dinner every night since the funeral.

•its been hard but you are trying to move forward. To be the resilient woman Sevika had fallen in love with.

•but it was hard, not been able to talk to her, to see her, to hear her. Was taking a toll on you

• till one Friday you hear a knock at the door at mid day.

•you open it to reveal isha brandishing her medal and trophy for her school science project.

• she runs inside signing away excited to tell you all about it.

•you smile as you follow along to her story about the fair and how her experiment went off without a hitch.

• finally isha finishes her rambling looking at you with pride. Then you watch as her expression falls into a shy look but s small smile still present.

• “can we…” she stops mid sign second guessing herself

• "can we what hun?" You ask her encouraging her to tell you.

•she takes a deep breath before she signs… “can we tell sevika about it?”

• your heart stops “ t-tell sev…(you clear your throat) tell sevi about your science fair?”

• isha nods her head and looks at you waiting.

• tear prickle your eyes but you smile. They fall down your cheeks as you look at the lil girl and say “I think thats a great Idea.”

• after retrieving the journal you both walk over to the dining table and sit side by side.

• you open the journal to an empty page and poise yourself ready to write for the first time in two months. In that moment you start what you call your road to healing as you start your entry with three simple words.

“My Dearest Sevika….”

[quokkaholic]

Keep Singing k.s

Warnings/tags: MDNI, straight up smut no plot, mean sub!seungmin, hj/bj, orgasm denial, name calling(bitch 1x). Lightly edited

Synopsis: While engaging is some late night activities, you have a special request of your talented boyfriend.

•.¸¸♪•*¨*•.¸¸♪•*¨*•.¸¸♪•*¨*•.¸¸♪•*¨*•.¸¸♪•*¨*•.¸¸♪•*¨*•.¸¸♪

After a long day of work and errands, you collapse down next to him in your shared bed once completing your night time routines. Seungmin is quick to envelop you in his arms eagerly pressing his soft, full lips to yours as if he’d been waiting for this moment all day. His desperation is made even more apparent as he is quick to grasp at your chest forgoing his usual slow tension building approach, which was fine by you. You soon feel him hardening against your leg, and when your hand drags down his body to roam over his pajama pants, he bucks into your touch slightly, letting out a quiet moan.

The idea came to you earlier as you stood in the doorway of the master bathroom debating on joining in his shower, but once you heard him start to practice his vocals, you decided to forego the pleasure and just listen to his sweet voice. He has been working so unbelievably hard, probably too hard, on training. You worried that he’d push himself too far and hurt himself or lose passion. This would help, you thought if not only to relieve some tension. While recounting your intentions and the events leading up to their conception, you can’t help the cheeky smile that forces its way to your lips that are still smashed to Min’s.

After palming his length through the flannel material, you get him just pliable enough for you to push him onto his back, head falling into the plush pillows piled on the bed. You slowly raise onto an elbow, then up to rest on your palm while still remaining joined in a lustful kiss. Seungmin is starting to get squirmy under your touch, eager to get what he needs from only you. He’s so sweet for you, it almost feels criminal to pull away and whisper your command,

“Sing for me,” you say staring into his warm, dark eyes.

“What? No!” He protests before lifting his head trying to reconnect his hungry mouth to yours. Your hand slows as you raise up higher to plead with him,

“Please sing Min. Your voice is so beautiful; you know I love it,” his face heats at your compliment, and he turns his head away from you before taking a deep inhale and letting his angelic musings free to fill your cozy room. His voice is slightly shaky at first, maybe from his nerves and maybe from the renewed vigor in your stokes after freeing his from the restraint of his bottoms. You place loving, open mouth kisses to his neck and chest feeling the vibrations of his song on your lips, spending extra time dragging a gentle tongue over his tight bud causing him to lose focus on his tune as he homes in on the pleasure, hush noises of appreciation escaping his parted lips. You allow it for a moment before pulling away due to the lack of music, causing him to loose a frustrated groan before begrudgingly continuing.

You shuffle down and hover your mouth over his flushed cock to spit on it, allowing it to slowly drip down, cooling the scorching skin, before pulling him into your mouth. With few sloppy bobs of your head to slick him up, you draw a string of moans resonating from deep in Seungmin’s chest. You move just the way he likes, savoring his taste and weight on your tongue, again causing the melody to peter out. Halting the salacious swirling, you remove your mouth to scold him,

“Minnie, didn’t I ask you..?”, but he interrupts with a cold and resentful,

“Fuck you”, scowling at the smirk playing on your lips shimmering with drool mixed with his precum, but he begins again, singing beautifully with a bit of irritation in his tone as you grip him with both hands. They work in tandem to the rhythm of his song, stroking and twisting to the beat. The tune loses its edge and is left with whiny desperation in its stead. He has even gone as far as to speed up the tempo from the original recording in an effort to get you to move faster, but his own sultry sounds are breaking up the chorus slowing the progression.

You can tell he’s getting close by the unconscious, jerky movements of his hips and the way he’s gripping, boarder line painfully, tight to your thigh. His eyes screw shut and head cranes back. Lips smash shut trying to silence his needy cries as he’s about to burst. You asked him for one thing; if he’s going to cum, the least he can do is follow through on his end of the deal, so you completely pull your hands away allowing his cock to snap back against his stomach. Seungmin bellows out the most frustrated growl before glowering at you with what, if you didn’t know better, you’d believe to be pure hatred in his eyes. You just raise your eyebrows to him with an expectant expression before ordering slowly in a firm yet sexy tone,

“Keep singing.” He’s panting, still trying to recover from his ruined orgasm but manages to get out a breathy curse,

“You bitch,” before he returns to his vocalizing, be it shaky and flustered. Looking down at his stupidly desperate, worn ragged expression and flushed face and chest, you think he’s suffered enough. Tightly gripping his shaft you spit into your palm before rubbing its in hard and fast circles over the tip causing him to thrash and cry out for you as he cums hard, shaking, painting your hands and his abdomen in his seed.

He lays there, almost lifeless besides his heaving chest and soft whimpers that turn to cries of sensitivity as you lean down to kiss his slightly abused member and get your fill while cleaning up the mess you made of him. Kissing your way back up his body, you stop to burry your face in his neck and cuddle into his side. Softly rubbing his chest and shoulder, gently encouraging him to return to reality as his mind had been clouded with ecstasy. When his breathing steadies and he had taken some time to relax in your snuggles, he swiftly rolls your connected bodies over so that he’s above you pining you to the cushiony mattress. Planting a passionate kiss to your lips before threatening,

“You’re going to regret that,” with a grin so mischievous, it rivals your own.

•.¸¸♪•*¨*•.¸¸♪•*¨*•.¸¸♪•*¨*•.¸¸♪•*¨*•.¸¸♪•*¨*•.¸¸♪•*¨*•.¸¸♪

A.n- Thanks for reading <3 I wrote this on my phone while out of town lol. I think Seungmin is officially my bias wrecker but Lee know puts up a good fight.

- mo 🎶

Pic creds: x seungmin’s insta x

Masterlist

[gemini-atz]

Seonghwa as your Boyfriend₊˚⊹♡

('Realistic Imagines' + Astrology Based)

Background/Disclaimer: !!This is all my own interpretation based on my personal astrology knowledge and research. I consider myself an amateur!!

✩Gemini Notes✩ IDK what happened but I ended up getting really into writing the NSFW part of this and it got long so I'm making a part 2 for it which I'll post tomorrow night! I'll create a link at the end of this post and in my Astrology Series Pinned post. If you'd like a tag please comment!

SEONGHWA SUN Aries MOON Cancer MERCURY Aries VENUS Aquarius MARS Aries

Dating Seonghwa is pretty much like being with your best friend. He's such a caretaker and protector in your life almost from the moment he enters it. You guys probably had a base of friendship for a bit before you started dating, and it would have probably (definitely) been you crushing on Seonghwa hard first before he even notices his own feelings for you.

Aquarius Venus and really anyone with their Venus in an Air sign tend to seek intellectual or stimulating connections with people before falling romantically. For Seonghwa his partner should be someone he also considers a close friend. He'd be like the guy you'd meet in your second year of college in class because you were put in a group for an assignment and of COURSE you two turned out to be the only two that even gave a shit and tried. Showing a sincere interest in his hobbies or likes would really endear him to you, and he would try to return the favor by getting into yours. For Seonghwa, a comfortable kind of friends to lovers thing is ideal. He loves spending quality time with you but his idea of quality time is very much giving parallel play, where you both do your own thing in the same room, maybe listening to a playlist you made together. With his three Aries placements, he has the potential to have a really explosive temper. It's a little diminished by his Moon in Cancer but he's probably the type of guy who holds in all his annoyances until he can just get them out at the end of the day either through his hobbies or physical activity. Basically, he likes to keep his mind focused and his hands busy. Air Venus signs can come off as aloof occasionally to other passionate signs who literally want to be with you all the time. He's the kind of boyfriend that will give you some space if you need it, because he'll need it too. You'll be soooo tempted to go an interrupt him when he's focused on his Legos because he's just so beautiful and cute when he's focusing but the thing he loves about you is how much understanding you always give him; its all you can do to just kiss his forehead and go to read a book while laying on the couch. Eventually he'd come over to you, bouncy and energized and flop onto the couch, wiggling up to rest his face into your chest and wrapping warm, solid arms around you. "Can I show you the set I just built?" He'd ask, and of course you say yes! His eyes get so sparkly while he shows it off to you, smiling so proudly at your reactions. If you're a person who loves being spontaneous or adventurous with your plans, having Seonghwa as your boyfriend means you two will genuinely have a lot of fun together. He's the boyfriend that wants genuinely does want to go to art museums and fashion archive exhibits with you, and you guys can chat excitably about your opinions of different works, be it games, anime, fashion or music. As a couple, you are always ready to try something new and probably always have weekend plans.

As a Cancer Moon Seonghwa might gravitate toward the caretaker role in your relationship and tends to anticipate your own needs before you do, just doing little actions to look after you, like preparing your coffee or tea in the morning while you rush around getting ready for work. He isn't super big on PDA, maybe holding hands in public is as much as he's comfortable with but once you're alone....he's your personal giant teddy bear. So many hugs, so many cuddle sessions where you both play on your Switches and pause occasionally to show each other something cool or cute in your game.

You'll end up thinking its funny that some people have the impression your boyfriend is quiet or shy; If he's not saying anything, he just might not be interested in the conversation. Once you get him talking about his interests he's a certified YAPPER. And, surprisingly one of the most stubborn people you have ever met. Like, good luck feeling like you can ever "win" an argument. With both a Sun and Mars in Aries, Seonghwa feels like he can give you energy just from being near him. Aries men tend to have a lot of physical stamina and can push themselves pretty far in that aspect.

Which brings me to my next point......

NSFW

I see Seonghwa as someone who eventually gets into orgasm denial on his partner because of just how long he can go for. That Aries stamina feels like he's the type who can cum and be ready to go again faster than you were expecting.

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